Francois Couperin 1c Grand
Wilfrid Meilers
Tancois Couperin
and the French Classical Tradition
London
DENNIS   DOBSON LTD
H-Heu. 1-4
FILGS. ■ - .' J i» ii ir'A iv.U LT 1' t.NlVKii.-iü j. E. PüKKTOfi BENi
First published in Great Britain in MCML by Dennis dobson ltd, at 12 Park Place, St James's, London SWl. All rights reserved. Printed in Great Britain by western printing services ltd, Bristol
105/R
Contents
part i
LIFE AND TIMES
chapter pags
I The Life 17
II Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle 28
III Taste during the Grand Siecle 49
IV Music, the Court, and the Theatre 59
part 11 THE WORK
V The Organ Masses 83
VI The Two-violin Sonatas 97
VII The Secular Vocal Works 128 VIII  The Church Music 146
IX The Clavecin Works 188
X The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols 234 XI  Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions 272
part in
THEORY AND PRACTICE
XII  Couperin's Theoretical Work, with Comments on
Rhythm, Ornamentation, and Phrasing 291
XIII  Couperin's Resources and his use of them, with
Comments on the Modern Performance of his Work   3 22
Contents
Editions of Works by Couperin 337 Appendix A: The Authorship of the Organ Masses 341
Appendix C: Lord Fitzwilliam and the French Clavecin Composers 345
Appendix D: On the Tempo of the Eighteenth-century Dance Movements 347
Appendix E: Georg Muffat on Bowing, Phrasing and Ornamentation 350
Appendix F: Notes on the titles of Couperin's clavecin pieces 356
Appendix G: Biographical Notes on the principal persons mentioned in the text 363
Catalogue Raisonne 374
Gramophone Records of Works by Couperin 390
Bibliography 395
Index 401
Appendix B: The Organists of St Gervais
344
ÜSTÖEDT>i KNIHOVNA FILOSOiM^S i'AKULTY UNIVERSITY J. E. HJRKYNfi
Illustrations
I Portrait of Francois Couperin le Grand (by
André Bouys, engraved by Flibert 1735) Frontispiece
II The Church of St Gervais (Topographia facing page
Galliae Vol. I, 1655) 24
III Veue de la Grande et Petite Escurie et des
deux Cours (La Description de Versailles) 48
IV Gardens of the Due d'Orleans (Topographia
Galliae, 1655) 74
V 'Dans le Gout Pastoral': Cours de la Reine
Mere (Topographia Galliae, 1655) 145
VI 'Dans le Gout burlesque': Watteau, Portrait
of Gilles (Louvre) 227
VII Watteau, Les Charmes de la Vie (Wallace
Collection) 271
VIII The Organ of St Gervais 330 IX  The Organ of the Chapelle Royale 330
The design on the title page is Couperin's coat-of-arms
To Vera and to the illustrious memory of Franqois Couperin le Grand
Preface
So far as I am aware, this is the first book on Couperin le Grand in English; indeed it is possibly the first comprehensive study of his work in any language, for of the three French books on him known to me, that of Bouvet is purely biographical while those of Tessier and Tiersot do not claim to be more than introductory monographs. (As such, they are both admirable.)
I have divided this study of Couperin into three sections. The first gives the facts of his life and some account of the nature, values, and standards of his community. Of the facts of his life, little is known, and I have not indulged in speculation. For most of the information contained in my introductory chapter I am indebted to the biographical sections of the previous books on Couperin referred to above, with the addition of some documentary evidence more recently published by M. Paul Brunold.
The chapters on the values and standards of the grand Steele do not pretend to offer a revolutionary approach. My general attitude to the period is influenced by the miscellaneous writings of Mr Martin Turnell, published in Horizon, Scrutiny, and elsewhere1—especially those on Racine, Moliere, Corneille, and La Princesse de Cleves, and by a most interesting essay by Mr R. C. Knight also published in Scrutiny, which was in part a criticism of Turnell's account of Racine. I have also found many hints worth following up, and much useful information, in Mr Arthur Tilley's two books, From Montaigne to Moliere and The Decline of the Age of Louis XIV. Most of the information in my chapter on the court theatre music is derived from the writings of the recognized authority on the period, M. Henri Prunieres. These books are listed in the bibliography. In this chapter, as in the others, I am of course responsible for the critical
1 Much of Mr Turnell's work on the period is available in book form. (The Classical Moment, 1948.)
Preface
comments on the music and for the various analogies between Lully and other artists.
In general I have tried where possible to base my remarks on contemporary documents, creative or critical, and perhaps I may claim as original my attempt to state and interpret the relationships between the various facets of grand siecle culture in manners, philosophy, literature, painting, architecture, and music. I am aware that comparisons between the arts are sometimes considered dangerous, but I cannot see that, providing some technical basis is given to them, they can be other than wuminating. One would certainly expect artists working in different media but in similar conditions, with a similar philosophical background, to have much in common. In any case my whole approach presupposes an interrelation between the arts, as manifestations of the human spirit, and life; and I have taken pains to establish by frequent cross reference the close dependence of the second part of the book on the first.
This second part includes some comment on everything Couperin wrote. Even at the risk of monotony, I wished the book to serve as a work of reference as well as a critical study. This section thus stands in lieu of a thematic index. But of course the primary intention of this part is not merely informative but also critical. It aims to assess Couperin's achievement in relation to his social and musical background.
In such an attempt it is always difficult to decide how a book may be most profitably arranged. Even if the dates of composition of Couperin's works were all definitely established, a chronological method would hardly be feasible if adequate consideration is to be given to the various styles and conventions which Couperin employs. I have thus dealt in separate chapters with Couperin's contribution to each of the genres current in his time, preserving some hint of chronological sequence in so far as I deal with each genre at the time in the composer's career when he showed most interest in it. Thus I discuss the violin trio sonatas after the organ masses because it was at that stage in his work that Couperin was most preoccupied with the problems of the sonata convention. But he wrote other violin sonatas late in his life, and these I have discussed in the same chapter, since only as a whole can one assess Couperin's contribution to this convention. 12
Preface
From some points of view it would have been more convenient to the reader if I had discussed Couperin's predecessors—not merely the theatre music but all that he owed to the past—in a prehrninary chapter, instead of scattering the information throughout the chapters on each genre of his work. For instance, the reader who knows something about the lutenists is in a better position than the reader who knows nothing to approach any aspect of Couperin's music. Yet an account of them undoubtedly fits most cogendy into the chapter on the keyboard music which thus views the evolution of the clavecin school as a continuous process from the early years of the grand sieck to Couperin le Grand. Moreover, by inserting a . proportion of general information and theory into the chapters on particular branches of Couperin's work, I hope I have to some extent palliated the monotony of many continuous pages of technical comment and analysis. If in this arrangement some duplication and cross reference between the chapters is unavoidable, I do not think this is necessarily a liability.
For Part II my main sources are of course Couperin's music, in the Oiseau Lyre text (whose spelling and accentuation of titles is adopted in this book), and the music of other relevant composers in editions specified in the Bibliography. But I should mention that for much of the information contained in the chapter on the secular vocal works I have drawn on Theodore Gerold's study of Le Chant au XVIIieme Steele; and that I have found Paul-Marie Masson's comprehensive work on the operas of Rameau especially helpful with reference to the dances and the social background of the Regency.
On the third section of the book no comment is necessary except to remark that even in dealing with matters of theory and practice I have tried not to forget their relation to aesthetic and social values. One need hardly add that anyone who writes on eighteenth-century musical theory owes much to the work of Arnold Dolmetsch and to Dannreuther's book on Ornamentation.
Many people have helped me with comment and discussion. In particular I must mention Mr R. J. White of Downing College, Cambridge, and Mr Alan Robson of Oxford University, who have made many useful suggestions about the first part of the book. Mr Felix Aprahamian has lent me music from his library and has discussed seventeenth-century French organ music with me; Mr Eric Mackerness has made various incidental criticisms.
1.3
Preface
But most of all I must pay a tribute to Mr C. L. Cudworth, of the Pendlebury Library, Cambridge, and to Mr R. C. Knight, of the French Department of Birmingham University. Mr Cudworth has put his extensive knowledge of early eighteenth-century music at my disposal and has unerringly directed my attention to music in the Pendlebury, Rowe, and University Libraries which seemed, however remotely, relevant to my subject. He has also read the whole of the manuscript, making many pertinent criticisms; and has compiled the catalogue raisonne of Couperin's music. I cannot too strongly express my gratitude both for his erudition and for his enthusiasm.
Mr Knight has undertaken the arduous task of reading and checking the proofs, especially the French quotations. He has corrected me on several points of fact, and has discussed with me many of my opinions. Both his knowledge and his sympathy have proved invaluable.
Finally I must convey my thanks to my publisher for his unfailing courtesy and generosity in dealing with more than two hundred music type quotations and many not easily accessible illustrations, at a time when even the simplest kind of book production is beset with difficulties.
W. H. M.
cambridge, AugUSt 1949
14
Parti
Life and Times
Rien n'est beau que le vrai.
boileau
We Polish one another, and rub off our Corners and Rough Sides, by a sort of Amicable Collision.
shaftesbury
I think, moderately speaking, that the Vulgar are generally in the wrong.
shenstone
GENEALOGICAL TABLE OF THE COUPERIN FAMILY CHARLES COUPERIN
Mathurin, Chaumes, 1623-?
Denis, Chaumes, 1625-?
Lows, Chaumes, 1626—Paris, 29 Aug., 1661
Francois, Chaumes, 1631—Paris, 1701
Marie, Chaumes, 1634-?
Elisabeth, Chaumes, 1623-?
Charles, Chaumes,
April, 1638—Paris, 1679
Marguerite-Louise, Paris, 1676, or 1679— Versailles, 30 May, 1728
Marie-Anne, Paris,
11 Nov., 1677-?
Antoinette-Angelique, Paris, 9 Apr., 1754— Paris, 23 Mar., 1758
I
Frangois-Hierosme, Paris,
24 Oct., 1678-?
Nicolas. Paris,
26 Dec., 1680— Paris,
25 July, 1748
Armand-Louis, Paris, 25 Feb., 1727—Paris, 2 Feb., 1789
Marie-Madeleine (Cecile), Paris, 11 Mar., 1690— Abbaye de Maubuisson, 16 April, 1742
I
Pierre-Louis, Paris, 14 Mar., 17JS-Paris, 10 Oct., 1789
Gervais-Erancois, Paris, 22 May, 1759— Paris, July, 1826
Francois le Grand Paris, 10 Nov., 1668 Paris, 12 Sept., 1733
Marguerite-Antoinette, Paris,
Sept. 19,1705-1778
Nicolas, Paris,
2july, 1707-?
Nicolas-Louis, Paris, 1760—(after) 1817
Celeste,
Paris, 1793 or 94—1860
Chapter One
The Life
After the bach family the Couperins are probably the most distinguished of all musical dynasties. Little is known about their origin though it is rumoured that there was foreign blood in their veins some time in the sixteenth century. At the beginning of the seventeenth a Mathurin Couperin was village lawyer at Beauvoir, in Brie. His son Denis succeeded him and eventually advanced to become a royal notary. Another son, Charles, set up as a tradesman in the neighbouring town of Chaumes. He was an amateur musician of some ability, playing the organ at the parish church and also at the Benedictine abbey in the town. He was the grandfather of Couperin le Grand. Three of his eight children became professional musicians, laying the foundations of the Couperin 'dynasty'. These three were Louis, born in 1626, Francois I, born some time between 1627 and 1633, and Charles, born in 1633.
The story of how the Couperins entered the fashionable musical life of Paris is well known, picturesque, and authentic—since it comes from the reliable contemporary chronicler Titon du Tillet. We may leave him to tell the tale in his own words:
Les trois freres Couperin etoient de Chaume, petite ville de Brie assez proche de la terre de Chambonniere. lis jouoient du violon, et les deux ainez reussissoient tres bien sur l'orgue. Ces trois freres, avec de leurs amis, aussi joueurs du violon, firent partie, un jour de la fete de M. de Chambonniere, d'aller a son chateau lui donner une aubade; ils arriverent et se placerent a la porte de la salle oh Chambonniere etoit a la table avec plusieurs convives, gens d'esprit et ayant du gout pour la musique. Le maitre de la musique fut surpris agreablement de meme que tout la compagnie, par la bonne symphonic qui se fit entendre. Chambonniere pria les personnes qui l'executoient d'entrer dans la salle et leur demanda d'abord de qui etoit la composition des airs qu'ils avoient jouez; un d'entre eux lui dit qu'elle etoit de Louis Couperin, qu'il lui presenta. Chambonniere fit aussitot son compliment a Louis Couperin, et l'engagea avec tous ses camarades de se mettre a table; il b 17
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
lui temoigna beaucoup d'amitie, et lui dit qu'un homme tel que lui n'etoit pas fait pour rester dans un province, et qu'il falloit absolument qu'il vint avec lui a Paris; ce que Louis Couperin accepta avec plaisir. Chambonniere le produisit a Paris et a la Cour, oh il fut goutd. II eut bient6t apr£s l'orgue de St. Gervais a Paris, et une des places d'organiste de la Chapefie du Roi.
The year of this musical tribute is not specified, but it was probably about 1650, or earlier.
The post of organist at St Gervais was one with which the Couperin family became intimately associated. Louis also played the viol and violin in the ballet music of the court. When the great Chambonnieres incurred the King's displeasure, for some reason which we know nothing about, Louis was offered the much coveted post of Joueur de 1'Epinette de la Chambre du Roi. He declined it out of a sense of delicacy, but that the offer was made testifies to the esteem in which he was held. It may have been as an alternative to this position that he was offered a post as one of the King's official organists; in any case he seems to have been affluent and highly successful. He was studying the work of Chambonnieres and Gaultier, and composing energetically himself when, on the crest of his fortunes, he died This was in 1661, in his thirty-fifth year.
The second son, the elder Francois, came to Paris a few years after Louis. He too became a pupil of Chambonnieres, and an organist and music teacher, but he does not seem to have shared either the talent or the fame of his brothers. He lived in the parish of StLouis en l'lle and there is no evidence that he was ever organist of St Gervais, though he may have helped out occasionally during the interim period after Charles's death, when the busily fashionable La Lande was locum tenens. It is certain that he never occupied the St Gervais organist's house.2
Charles, the third son, followed Louis to Paris after an interval of a few years. He too became a pupil of Chambonnieres, and one of the King's violinists associated with the ballet. When Louis Couperin died he succeeded to the organ of St Gervais, married, and installed himself in the ancient organist's house overlooking the graveyard. Here, after seven years, a son, Francois, was born on the tenth of November 1668. Eleven years later Charles, like Louis, died at an early age. The little Francois, although only a child, inherited the
a The question of the attribution of the great Francois's organ masses to the elder Francois is discussed in Appendix A. 18
The Lipb
organist's post from his father, and continued to live with his mother in the old house in the rue de Monceau. The church authorities arranged that until Francois grew up the brilliant La Lande should deputize for him on the organ, simultaneously fulfilling the duties of his two other Parisian churches. Meanwhile Francois had received a thorough musical training from his father, with some help perhaps from his uncle at St Louis en l'lle and from the renowned organist, Jacques Thomelin. After Charles's death, Thomelin became, according to Titon du Tillet, a second father to Francois. He could not have been in better hands. It was undoubtedly from Thomelin that Francois learned the firm contrapuntal science, the mastery of the old technique which is conspicuous in his first work, the organ masses.
The contract made with La Lande had specified that he should carry out the organist's duties until Couperin was eighteen. Owing to the pressure of his commitments at court, La Lande was only too pleased to leave St Gervais somewhat before the stated date; he can have been in no doubt about the young Francois's proficiency either as an executant or theoretical musician. Couperin took over the St Gervais organ in his eighteenth year, in 1685 or early in 1686. Four years later he married Marie Anne Ansault, of whom little is known. In 1690 were born both his first child and the first fruits of his musical creativity. He obtained a privilege du Roi to enable him to publish, with La Lande's recommendation, his organ masses, but funds ran out and the plan had to be abandoned. Instead, he had several manuscript copies made, and bound them with an engraved title page saying that they were composed by 'Francois Couperin de Crouilly, organiste de St. Gervais'.
Two years later, in 1692, Francois thought he would show his metde as a fashionable composer by writing some sonatas in the Italian manner. Many years afterwards, when he published the works with some new sonatas, Couperin revealed an innocent deception he had practised. The passage from the preface to the sonatas is worth quoting, if only because the prose has so Couperin-like a flavour:
La premiere Sonade de ce Receuil fut aussy la premiere que je composay et qui ait 6t6 compose' en France. L'histoire meme en est singuliere. Charme' de celles de signor Corelli, dont j'aimeray les oeuvres tant que je vivray, ainsi
19
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
que les ouvrages franchises de M. de Lully, j'hasarday d'en composer une, que je fis executer dans le concert ou j'avais entendu celles de Corelji. Et me defiant de moi-meme, je me rendis, par un petit mensonge officieux, un tres bon service. Je feignis qu'un parent que j'ay, effectivement, aupres du Roi de Sardaigne, m'avoit envoys une Sonade d'un nouvel Auteur italien: je rangeay les lettres de mon nom, de facon que cela forma un nom italien que je mis a la place. La Sonade fut devoree avec empressement; et j'en tairay l'apologie. Cela cependant m'encouragea, j'en fis d'autres. Et mon nom italianise s'attira, sous le masque, de grands applaudissements. Mes Sonades, heureusement, prirent assez de faveur pour que l'equivoque ne m'ait point fait rougir.
It is clear however that by this time Francois was becoming famous in his own right, without recourse to anagrams; for in the next year, 1693, he entered the King's service as one of the organists of the Chapelle du Roi, having been chosen by Louis himself as 'le plus experimente en cet exercice'. Four organists shared the royal chapel between them, officiating for periods of three months yearly. Couperin succeeded his old master Thomelin; his colleagues were Le Begue, Buterne, and Nivers. Once he had established this link with the court, Francois progressed rapidly. In 1694 he was appointed Maitre de Clavecin des Enfants de France, teaching the Duke of Burgundy and almost all the royal children, at the same time as Fenelon. He must by now have been in very comfortable material circumstances; he was also gaining confidence in his creative work which, although conceived in the Italian fashion, had already revealed a decisive personality.
About this time, probably in 1696, Louis paid a tribute to Couperin's distinction and celebrity by ennobling him. It was an honour that was well deserved, for no man has had a more innate aristocracy of spirit than Francois le Grand. Characteristically he showed a touchingly innocent delight in the compliment, and was still more overjoyed when, a few years later, he was made a Chevalier of the Lateran order. He devised a coat of arms for himself, incorporating a golden lyre as a symbol of his muse, and signed himself, with a flourish at once baroque and precise, Le Chevalier Couperin, at the baptism of his daughter Marguerite-Antoinette in 1705.
During the first decade of the eighteenth century he was engaged on the production of music which would soothe the King's increas-20
The Life
ing melancholy. A considerable part of his output was church music written for Versailles. In much of it, very high and delicate soprano parts were written for his cousin Marguerite-Louise, a daughter of Francois the elder, who must have been a singer of remarkable accomplishment, if we are to judge from the words of Titon du Tillet:
Une quantite de Motets dont douze a grand choeur ont ete chantes a la Chapelle du Roi, devant Louis XIV, qui en fut fort satisfait de meme que toute sa cour. La Demoiselle Louise Couperin, sa cousine, musicienne pen-sionnaire du Roi, y chantait plusieurs versets avec une grande legerete' de voix et un gout merveilleux.
The motet Qui dat Nivem was the first of Couperin's works to be published except for a few slight airs de cour and clavecin pieces in miscellaneous collections. It appears that at this period he also wrote some secular cantatas, including one on the theme of Ariane abandonee, but these are lost.
In addition to the church music Couperin also regularly produced chamber music for the concerts du dimanche. Couperin's position as a court musician is not very clear, for the Ordinaire de la Musique at the beginning of the century was officially d'Anglebert the younger, and Francois did not succeed him until 1717. It is certain however that Couperin was virtually in charge long before that date, and probable that he presided at the clavecin from 1701 onwards. D'Anglebert's ill-health and defective eyesight are possible reasons for his failure to fulfil an office he ostensibly held; thcgalant sense of delicacy and moral scrupulousness are possible reasons for his being allowed to keep a title which he did nothing to justify. In any case Couperin had some of the most celebrated musicians of the day in his charge. Forqueray the violist and Rebel the violinist were among those who played with him at the concerts, and it may have been at these entertainments that Marguerite-Louise sang the lost cantatas. We know too that at this period of his life Couperin became the intimate friend of the organist Gabriel Gamier, to whom one of the loveliest of his early clavecin pieces is dedicated.
By 1710 Couperin was already known to his contemporaries as Le Grand. Monteclair, Siret, Dornel and many other disciples dedicated works to him, expressing their recognition of his pre-eminence. Francois himself seems to have been serenely conscious of his powers, though this does not mean that his urbane irony, as revealed in his
21
Francois Coupbrin: Life and Times
prefaces, did not extend to himself. He had the true humility of genius, and was always willing to pay deference to others when he recognized genius in them. He had a profound respect for La Lande, and in the case of the great Marin Marais went so far as to hold up the production of one of his works because, 'ayant tous deux le meme graveur', the publication of his work would have interfered with the publication of Marais's. The only two musicians of consequence who seem to have distrusted Francois were Lecerf de la Vieville and Louis Marchand. Lecerf de la Vieville, author of a famous book on the conflict between the French and Italian styles, suspected Couperin of a dangerous partiality for Italianism—a rather unreasonable charge when one recalls Couperin's often reiterated desire to mate the two styles, and his many tributes to his 'ancetres' and to the incomparable Lully, 'le plus grand homme en musique que le dernier siecle ait produit'. Marchand seems to have been a difficult person on any count. He was hostile to Couperin not because he regarded him as a fanatical adherent of any musical cause but through jealousy, partly professional, partly personal. The legend that there was a woman in the case, recounted by the unreliable son of d' Aquin de Chateau-Lyon, is not otherwise authenticated. Significantly, if the stories about him are true, Marchand seems to have felt about Bach very much as he felt about Couperin. A man of remarkable talent8 and originality, he wrote music which is in some ways frustrated and unresolved; it may well have been the lucidity, the objectified quality, of Bach's and Couperin's music that so exasperated him. Most probably his exasperation has been grossly exaggerated with the passing of the years.
During the period of his court activities Couperin returned to Paris periodically to teach and to direct the services at St Gervais. He had moved from the old organist's house as early as 1697 and lived in a succession of Parisian houses up to 1724, each dwelling growing more majestic as his reputation advanced. On the fourteenth of May 1713, he took out a privilege du Roi to publish his
3 Cf. Dr Burney: 'Marchand was one of the greatest organ players in Europe during the early part of the present century. Rameau, his friend and most formidable rival, frequently declared that the greatest pleasure of his life was hearing Marchand perform; that no one could compare with him in the management of a fugue; and that he believed no musician ever equalled him in extempore playing.' (A General History of Music.)
22
Thb Life
work, and this time was able to carry it through. He first printed his first book of clavecin pieces, which had been written intermittently over the last ten or fifteen years; in the next year he began to publish his Lecons des Tenebres, but this project was unfortunately never completed, so that only three out of nine survive. In 1716 appeared his theoretical work, L'Art de toucher le Clavecin; and the second book of clavecin pieces in 1717, in which year, on the fifth of March, he at last officially inherited the post of Ordinaire de la Musique. He was still writing concert music for the king's evening entertainment during these years, and after Louis's death continued to act as Maitre de Clavecin aux Enfants de France. (He taught the little princess, the wife-to-be of Louis XV, from 1722 to 1725.) Couperin was forty-seven when Louis XIV died. During the Regency he published his third book of clavecin pieces, and some of the Concerts, under the tide ofLes Go&ts Reunis. The success of these encouraged him to publish some of his early Italian violin sonatas, adding a 'French' suite to each of them to redress the balance and incorporating one completely new work. The whole collection, called Les Nations, appeared in 1726.
For two years the Couperins had now been setded in a beautiful new house in the rue Neuve des Bons Enfants. "We know almost nothing about the last ten years of his life. In 1728 he published the suites for viols and also a Benedixisti which seems to have been a revival of a work dating from 1697. The fourth book of clavecin pieces, put together with the help of his family, was published in 1730. Never very strong, he was intermittendy ailing from his early forties; the preface to the fourth book is valedictory in tone:
II y a environ trois ans que ces pieces sont achevees, mais conune ma same" diminue de jour en jour, mes amis me conseillent de cesser de travailler et jc n'ay pas fait de grands ouvrages depuis. Je remercie le Public de 1'aplaudisse-ment qu'il a bien voulu leur dormer jusqu'icy; et je crois en mdriter une partie par le zele que j'ai eu a lui plaire. Comme personne n'a gueres plus compose que moy, dans plusieurs genres, j'espere que ma Famille trouvera dans mes portfeuilles de quoy me faire regretter, si les regrets nous servent a quelque chose apres la vie, mais il faut du moins avoir cette idee pour tacher de meViter une immortality chimerique oh presque tous les Hommes aspirent.
The tinge of irony in this gravely measured prose only makes its cadence the more poignant; in much of the music which follows
23
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
this preface we may find a comparable union of melancholy with an objectified precision, a detachment from the merely personal. The last two clavecin ordres, perhaps the most civilized music that even Couperin ever wrote, are his farewell to civilization and the world. In 1723 he had handed over the St Gervais organ to Nicolas, a son of Francois l'aine; in 1730 he relinquished his remaining posts, his daughter Marguerite-Antoinette becoming Ordinaire de la Musique for the interim period until d'Anglebert died.
Couperin died on the twelfth of September 1733, in the big, elegant house in the rue Neuve des Bons Enfants. Another daughter, who was also a musician, became a nun. A son, Nicolas-Louis, born in 1707, presumably died in infancy, for nothing is known of him. Six months before his death Couperin had taken out a second privilege du Roi, on the expiration of the period of twenty years covered by the privilege of 1713. His intention, referred to in the preface to his fourth book, that his wife and relations should undertake the production of his unpublished works, was not fulfilled. His wife, a shadowy figure throughout, possibly bad little business sense or initiative; his nephew Nicolas, to whom the task was entrusted, seems to have been irresponsible. Whatever the reason, nearly all Couperin's music apart from that which he himself published is lost. The missing manuscripts include a considerable amount of church music and 'occasional' concert music, but probably not any important clavecin works.
After Francois's death the musical direction of St Gervais remained in the hands of the Couperin family for several more generations. Nicolas's son Armand-Louis, and then his grandsons Pierre-Louis and Gervais-Francois, followed in the succession. They were all reputable musicians, both as executants and composers, but their distinction declines progressively with the civilization that produced them. The Revolution meant the end of the world that had made the glory of the Couperins possible; perhaps they were ill-adapted to survival in the strange new world which was inevitably emerging. Gervais-Frangois died in 1826 in circumstances that were a bathetic reversal of the great days of the first Louis or of Francois the great. His daughter Celeste was given the thorough musical education habitually accorded to members of the family and seems to have been a competent organist. But her father was the last of the 24
The Church of St Gervais
The Life
Couperins to officiate at St Gervais; Celeste declined to the status of a second-rate piano teacher. In 1848, in indigence, she was obliged to sell the family portraits to the state; the Couperins had become a museum piece. She never married; and that was the end of the Couperin dynasty. At least it would have been the end had not the Couperins of the grand siecle and of the age of the Rot Soleil left an imperishable monument to their name in their music.
We have litde direct evidence as to the kind of man the great Francois was. No correspondence survives—a regrettable fact since we know that Couperin had a long correspondence about musical matters with Bach; the letters not unnaturally disappeared after being used as lids for jam-pots.4 We know that Bach copied out several of Couperin's scores for himself and Anna Magdalena, and admired him above all French composers for Télégance et la mélan-colie voluptueuse de certains motifs, la precision et la noblesse dans le rythme, enfin une sobriété qui n'est pas toujours forcée, mais témoigne parfois d'une louable discretion' (Pirro). From his prefaces and other writings one gathers that Couperin was, as one might expect, habitually courteous and urbane though capable of an acidulated irony. Clearly he suffered fools, but did not suffer them gladly. The beautiful portrait by André Bouys gives to Couperin a characteristically compact and neat appearance; it does not surprise us that this man wrote the music he did, or that he should have taken such scrupulous pains over the engraving of his works and have left such detailed instructions for their correct performance. In particular Couperin's hands seem appropriate to the delicately lucid appearance of his printed scores. But of course there is more to the portrait than this; the essence lies not in the precision which belies any hint of ostentation in the Louis XIV perruque, but in the large, rather melancholy eyes, at once intelligent and sensitive. It is here that we see the real Couperin, who is not so much a representative of his age as its moral and spiritual epitome.
We know very little about the facts of Couperin's life. There are speculations in plenty which can all be read in the largely hypothetical biography of Bouvet. But the essential facts I have given, and they are not many. When one has said that, one has only to look at
4 This story was related to Charles Bouvet by Mme Arlette Taskin, who claimed that it washanded down in her family from an ancestor who was a relative of Couperin.
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Couperin's portrait to realize that the chain of facts, the sequence of events, is not very important. We may have little evidence as to what, on any specific occasion, was going on in Couperin's mind, what he said or thought on this occasion or the other, what other people said to him. But if we have little particular information, we have a great deal of general evidence. As M. Tiersot has pointed out, in the concerts and clavecin ordres we have Couperin's memoirs, a microcosm of the world in which he lived. There are movements, such as L'Auguste or La Majestueuse, which reflect the gallant bearing of the King himself, and an easy familiarity with the great ones of Society. There is the gracious gallery of portraits of noble ladies, proud, tender, languid or coquettish. There are pieces, such as Les Plaisirs de St. Germain en Laye, which tell of the exquisite pleasures of the fete champetre. Other movements reflect the sights of the Parisian streets which Couperin observed from his window in the rue Neuve des Bons Enfants—the martial glitter of soldiers (La Marche des Gris-Vetus), the comic antics of acrobats and strolling players (Les Fastes de la Grande et Ancienne Menestrandise). Other movements again tell of his love, as urbanely civilized as that of La Fontaine, for the country, with memories of days spent in his youth in the pastoral gentleness of Crouilly (the piece with that name, Les Moissonneurs, La Musete de Choisy). And yet all these reflections of a world which to Couperin was immediate and actual, are universalized in the pure musicality of his technique. A world of life has become a world of art.
For it is not the surface of the pictures that matters; it is the moral and spiritual values which the pictures represent. Though we know little about the facts of Couperin's life, we know much about the ways people living in his society felt and thought; similarly we know a good deal about the ways he felt and thought if we can listen intelligendy to his music. Knowledge of the values and standards of his time will help us to listen intelligently; conversely, listening to his music is one of the ways, together with reading Corneille, Racine and Moliere and looking at the pictures of Poussin and Claude, whereby we learn what the values of his time were. In any case we do not listen to Couperin's music merely to re-create the past; we re-create this aspect of the past because we believe that it is of significance for us. Apart from Racine and Moliere, no artist presents the 26
The Life
values of his time, purified of all merely topical pomposity, with as much precision as Couperin. If we can listen to his music adequately we shall experience one of the most profound conceptions of civilization which music has to offer. It can hardly be disputed that, the conditions of the contemporary world being what they are, anything which helps us to understand what the term Civilization might mean is worth investigation.
It may be that Couperin's civilization seems hopelessly remote from the problems with which we are preoccupied. If so, that is not anything for us to be proud about. He still stands as a criterion; he serves as a reminder of things we are rapidly forgetting. That we shall be any the wiser for the loss of them, few would have the temerity to claim. For myself, I do not even believe that we shall be any the 'freer' or the happier.
Couperin's culture was a minority culture, and it was doomed from the start; many things about it were foolish, and some were wicked. This does not alter the fact that it entailed values and standards which no serious conception of civilization can afford to ignore. In the first part of this book we shall discuss in general terms what these values and standards were. In the second part we shall discuss their manifestation in the technique of Couperin's music.
27
Chapter Two
Values and Standards in the Grand Siécle
Chaque heure en soi, comme ä notre égard, est unique: est-elle écoulée une fois elle a péri entiérement, les millions de siécles ne la rameneront pas: les jours, les mois, les années, s'enfoncent et se perdent sans retour dans ľabíme des temps; le temps mSme sera détruit; ce n'est qu'un point dans les espaces immenses de ľéternité, et il sera efface. II y a de légéres et frivoles circonstances du temps, qui ne sont point stables, qui passent et qui j'appelle des modes: la grandeur, la faveur, les richesses, la puissance, ľautorité, ľindépendence, le plaisir, les joies, la superfluité. Que deviendront ces modes, quand le temps merne aura disparu? La vertu seule, si peu ä la mode, va au delá des temps.
Les extremités sont vicieuses, et partent de l'homme; toute compensation est juste, et vient de Dieu.
la bruyére
There would nowadays, one imagines, be few dissentient voices to the suggestion that the France of Louis XIV is one of the supreme glories of European civilization. Yet if this opinion is now a commonplace, it was not such at the end of the last century. To artists and critics of the nineteenth century, Versailles was anathema. The romantics loved solitude, bosky nooks, and nature picturesque because confused: the people of Versailles liked company, were apt to be afraid of solitude, and regarded the confusion of nature as an unmitigated evil. They would do what they could to mitigate it; they would chop down trees, open up vistas, clip lawns, marshal avenues, arrange their gardens and houses with geometrical precision. Since the King was the Sun, they must see that their world rotated around him. In a very literal manner, they planned the axis of the park and gardens of Versailles so that it should run from the Avenue de Paris a8
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
in the east, through the centre of the Palace, through the middle of the King's bedchamber, out at the Parterre d'Eau to Latona, and from there through the Tapis Vert to the Fountain of Apollo. They knew that nature had dark corners, and they knew that there were dark corners in the mind. But they believed, with all the conviction of which they were capable (and they were nothing if not self-assured), that the dark corners, where possible, should be illuminated; and where that was not possible, should be left alone.
The romantics loved shadowy corners and regarded order as suspect. It is therefore not surprising that they saw, in the attempt of the grand siecle to order and illuminate, nothing but the superficies. The elaborate code of values which Versailles evolved to regulate human behaviour was to them always silly and inhumanly obstructive; to them the whole of life at Versailles seemed to perir en sytnetrie, to use the phrase which Mme de Maintenon permitted herself, thinking petulantly of the draughts which whisded through the carefully balanced windows. The finical code of manners which involved such unjustifiable emotion, such petty jealousy and such obsequious flattery (for instance the business of the King's lever) was to to them merely absurd. The geometrical plan of the gardens was to them not the consummation, but the denial, of art. The ceremonial stylization of the literature, painting, sculpture, architecture and music was to them a confession of bankruptcy, as frigid and 'artificial' as the menageries, the grottoes, the fountains, the temples a 1'antique, the hydraulic organs that imitated the carollings of birds.
It is only with the passing of the ' romantic' attitude to life that we have been able once again to see what is there, in the art of the grand siecle. And the renewed response to the art has brought with it a revaluation of the society that produced it; for we are not naive enough to suppose that this remarkable crop of artists in almost every medium—Corneille, Racine, Moliere, La Fontaine, Le Notre, Poussin, Claude, Watteau, Lully, La Lande, Marais, de Grigny, Couperin, to mention merely the more obvious names—occurred together by accident. If we admit the greatness of the art, we must look with a modified eye on things that in social intercourse might otherwise appear pernickety, affected, foolish. We come to see that when the men of the grand siecle referred to an entertainment as 'galant et magnifique' they meant something that had a whole
29
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philosophy—a view of the nature and destiny of man—behind it. We see that the unity with which artists in different media worked together is a factor of profound social significance; we see, from many a passage of Saint-Simon for instance, that even the insistence on deportment may not be a trivial thing:
Jamais homme si naturellement poli, (he is speaking of Louis) ni d'un politesse si fort mesure'e, si fort par degree, ni qui distinguat mieux l'Sge, le me'rite, le rang, et dans ses reponses, quand elles passoient le je verrai, et dans ses manieres. Ces stages clivers se marquoient exactement dans sa maniere de saluer et de recevoir les reverences, lorsqu'on partoit ou qu'on arrivoit. II etait admirable a recevoir differemment les saluts a la tete des lignes a i'arm£e ou aux revues. Mais surtout pour les femmes rien n'dtoit pareil. Jamais il n'a pass6 devant la moindre coifFe sans soulever son chapeau, je dis aux femmes de chambre, et qu'il conoissoit pour telles, comme cela arrivoit souvent a Marly. Aux dames, il otoit son chapeau tout a fait, mais de plus ou moins loin; aux gens titres, a demi, et le tenait en Fair ou a son oreille quelques instants plus ou moins marques. Aux seigneurs, mais qui l'etoient, il se contentoit de mettre la main au chapeau .. .
One can well believe, with Mile de Scudery, that Louis played billiards with the air of a master of the world.
In English Augustan civilization too we can observe how standards of correctness may be inseparable from standards of value. Though the romantics did not like Pope any more than they liked Corneille and Racine, it is clear that when Pope and his contemporaries talked about Reason, Truth and Nature they were speaking of socially tested values which their readers would immediately recognize as such. And it is an inestimable advantage for an artist if he can accept the sanctioned values of his time without being ashamed of them; for although, if he is a good artist, he will lend an additional depth and subtlety to the conventional valuations, he can always be sure that what he says will be the richer for having the endorsement, not merely of his own convictions, but of a civilization. Moreover, he will have the advantage that the terms he uses will mosdy be comprehensible to bis audience.
If the Augustan civilization of Pope and Johnson was a fine one it had, however, obvious limitations; significandy it produced no vital tragic poetry and no great music. Though Reason, Truth, and Nature were values that meant much to Augustan society, to the society of Versailles, or at least to die more sensitive spirits in it, raison, honneur, 3o
Vaxues and Standards in the Grand Siecle
honnetete, legalant, lagloire meant rather more. They were perhaps a series of counters; but the counters mattered because they were imbued with moral significance. Naturally, the balance was precarious; the code was always in danger of becoming divorced from its moral implications. But this society was great because at its best the code was an incarnation of life, not a substitute for it; because it was related to the complex of human passions, desires and fears; because it referred not only to the formal integration of society but also to the integration of the individual as a part of that society. The simultaneous preoccupation of the grand siecle both with Caracteres (human nature) and with Maximes (behaviour and morality) is not an accident.
It is hardly too much to say that seldom if ever in a civilized, as opposed to a primitive, society has 'living' been so highly developed an art, and art and life more closely connected. And almost all the significant art of the period, in social intercourse as well as in poetry, theatre, music and painting, depended on the moral tension involved in, on the one hand, feeling deeply, and on the other hand preserving that self-control which, through reference to an accepted standard, makes civilization possible. Nothing could be more beside the mark than to accuse the people of the grand siecle of a deficiency of passion; the evidence of passion is there not only in Racine and Couperin but everywhere throughout the copious memoirs of the period. When they proclaimed as their ideal the honnete homme they did not mean that they advocated that last refuge of the spiritually craven, indifference; they did mean that the individual ought to realize that his own passions are not the be-all and end-all of existence. Probably, in the long run, it was best for his own spiritual health, as well as society's, if he admitted that he had obligations to the people among whom he lived. So the creed of bienseance, in the heyday of the Hotel de Rambouillet, maintained that the honnete homme should have mm coeur juste and mm esprit bienfait. He should be considerate of other people's amour-propre, solicitous for their pleasure, alert to spare them pain or distress, prompt with his sympathy if pain cannot be avoided; and he should never impose his personality on others. To these people, Raison was both a personal and a social virtue; both an intellectual ideal and an emotional attitude of poise and moderation. They were far too intelligent to imagine that la raison could necessarily be equated with la verite; they
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knew that falsehood and wickedness and egoism would exist as long as man remained fallible and a sinner. But they believed that these evils were more manageable if one acted reasonably; and that one's chance of acting reasonably was better if one acted in accordance with the tested wisdom of civilization than if one trusted implicitly to one's own whims and fancies. This is why le tnoi est haissible.
This moral tension between passionate feeling and personal self-control, with its attendant social implications, functions at widely different levels. At a fairly frivolous level we may cite Mme de Sevigne's description of how one behaves at the end of a love affair. The Chevalier de Lorraine visits a one-time mistress of his, La Fiennes, who promptly plays the forsaken nymph for him. Is there anything extraordinary in what has happened? he asks. Please let us behave like ordinary people, in a grown-up fashion. And as a final comment he adds, That's a pretty little dog you've got there. Where did you get it? Mme de Sevigne adds that that was the end of that grand amour. The story of course is funny; but there is no need to depreciate the girl's feehng, or the sincerity of the Chevalier's desire to put her at her ease. And the remark about the little dog is an achievement of civilization.
Similarly Bussy-Rabutin's comments to Mme de Sevigne on the war of the Fronde are not only brilliantly witty; they place the war in the perspective of civilization. It is odd to think, he says, that we were on different sides in this war last year, and are so still, even though we have both changed over. But your side seems to be the better one, because you manage to stay in Paris. I've come from St Denis to Montrond, and it looks as though I'll end by going from Montrond to the devil. Keep gay and lively, he says, and never take things too solemnly; then you will live at least another thirty years (they were both quite advanced in years when he wrote this), and I can talk to you and write to you and love you. After that, I shall be happy to wait for you in Paradise. He says he is never serious; yet beneath the poised urbanity with which he says it, we feel the affection which, despite many violent upheavals, must have existed between these two. The passion is there, though it is not expatiated on. It is interesting to note that the only passion which Mme de Sevigne seems to have been unable to cope with was her love, almost pathological in its intensity, for her daughter. 3^
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
A more subtle case is the celebrated affair of Vatel, on the occasion of the King's visit to the Duke of Conde at Chantilly in 1671. This is worth quoting in full:
Le roi arriva hier au soir a Chantilly; il courut un cerf au clair de la lune; les lantemes firent dcs merveilles, le feu d'artifice fut un peu efface par la clarte de notre amie; mais enfin, le soir, le souper, le jeu, tout alia a merveille. Le temps qu'il a fait aujourd'hui nous faisait esperer une suite dignc d'un si agreable commencement. Mais voicy ce que j'apprends en entrant ici, dont je ne puis me remettre, et qui fait que je ne suis plus ce que je vous mande; c'est qu'enfin Vatel, maitre d'hotel de M. Fouquet, qui l'etait presentement de M. le Prince, cet homme d'une capacite distinguee de toutes les autres, dont la bonne tete e^tait capable de contenir tout le soin d'un Etat; cet homme done que je connaissais, voyant que ce matin a huit heures la maree n'etait pas arrive, n'a pu soutenir 1'afFront dont il a cru qu'il allait etre accabll, et en un mot, il s'est poignarde-. Vous pouvez penser l'horrible desordre qu'un si terrible accident a cause dans cette fete. Songez que la maree est peut-etre arrivee comme il expirait. Je n'en sais pas davantage
f)resentement; je pense que vous trouvez que c'est assez. Je ne doute pas que a confusion n'ait 6t6 grande; c'est une chose fdcheuse a une fete de cinquante mille ecus . . .
M. le Prince le dit au roi fort tristement: on dit que e'etait a force d'avoir de l'honneur a sa maniere; on le loua fort, on loua et Ton blama son courage. Le roi dit qu'il y avait cinq ans qu'il retardait de venir a Chantilly, parce qu'il comprenait l'exces de cet embarras. II dit a M. le Prince qu'il ne devait avoir que deux tables, et ne point se charger de tout; il jura qu'il ne souffri-rait plus que M. le Prince en usat ainsi; mais e'etait trop tard pour le pauvre Vatel. Cependant Gourville tacha de reparer la perte de Vatel; elle fut reparee; on dina tres bien, on fit collation, on soupa, on se promena, on joua, on fut a la chasse; tout etait parfume de jonquilles, tout etait enchants.
This is no doubt a most amusing story; but one may observe that it involves a very complex tissue of emotions. There is of course the contrast between the tragedy of Vatel's suicide and the bathetic circumstances that occasioned it. But the real reasons for his suicide were not trivial at all; they indicate in a remarkable manner how the moral values of the society of Versailles permeated all its manifestations, from highest to lowest. On top of this there is Mme de Sevigne's attitude to be taken account of. Her appreciation of the element of the ridiculous in the situation (it was a shocking thing to happen at a fete that cost 50,000 crowns), even a suggestion of callousness in the way she seems to regard such tragedies as inevitable if unfortunate incidents in the running of an ordered society; these should not lead us to underestimate her sensibility to the issues
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
involved. In this case, after all, the tragedy was only the result of a misunderstanding; for the fish may have arrived, just too late. It was the consequence, society decided, of too nice a sense of honour, which is a good thing. Vatel's action, some thought, showed courage; which is also a virtue. Others thought his response a little in excess of the object; and excess is bad. Even a person as exalted as the King showed delicacy in realizing that his visit was bound to cause trouble one way or another; and the pressure of feeling which poor Vatel must have laboured under can only be imagined. There is plenty of emotion all round; but the admirable maitre d'hotel is dead, and tears will not bring him back to life. Meanwhile civilization must go on; so the scent of the jonquils is everywhere, and in short all is delightful.
Some considerable space has been devoted to this apparently unimportant incident because it has so representative a value. Something comparable with its peculiar balance of feelings is observable in the most profound manifestation of the culture of the time. The writings of Sain -Simon are a case in point. He was a man whose creed was guided by la raison and la lot. However aware he may have become of the imperfections of the ancien regime, of its failure to live up to its standards, he none the less believed in those standards profoundly. His preoccupation with details of court etiquette may even prove exasperating to modern reaacrs \iot instance his tedious account of/'affaire de la quite); and yet his concern for the letter of the law and the urbanity of his mode of expression do not disguise, but serve rather to reinforce, the intensity of his loves and hates. His prose has a colloquial flexibility and sinuosity within its sophistication. The orderly precision of the words, the psychological acumen, acquire an almost reptilian venom; for all the galanterie and the politesse the words came out like pistol shots:
De ce long et curieux detail il resulte que Monseigneur était sans vice ni vertu, sans lumiěres ni connoissances quelconques, radicalement incapable ďen acquerir, trěs paresseux, sans imagination ni production, sans gout, sans choix, sans discernement, né pour l'ennui, qu'il communiquoit aux autres, et pour étre une boule roulant au hasard par l'impulsion ďautrui, opiniátre et petit en tout á 1'excěs ... livré aux plus pernicieuses mains, incapable d'en sortir ni de s'en apercevoir, absorbé dans sa graisse et dans ses ténebres, ... sans avoir aucune volonté de mal faire, il eůt été un roi pernicieux.
No one can say that this lacks feeling, or that the feeling is not intensified by the razor-sharp edge of Saint-Simon's mind; just as his 34
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
criticism is the more valid because we know that when he speaks of vertu, go&t, choix, discernement and so on, he is not merely using words.
The incident of Vatel is a part of contemporary life; the memoirs of Saint-Simon are perhaps half-way between life and art. With the poets we are a stage further towards the objectifying of the values of life in art, and all the significant poets show the same union of deep and delicate emotion with formal discipline. La Fontaine, for instance, has many qualities in common with Saint-Simon—the sharp intelligence, the slighdy acidulated wit, the diction that is close to polite conversation, but still more tautly disciplined; and he has many qualities in common with Mme de Sevigne—the urbanity and poise, together with great nervous sensitivity. He has a sensibility to nature and a sympathy with animals such as are usually supposed to be foreign to his age but these qualities are always subservient to his prime interest in human behaviour. The more one reads La Fontaine, the more he reveals himself as a great traditional moral poet. He is witty and charming, of course; but in all his most representative work (we may mention Le Chene et le Roseau) his sensitivity combines with the lucidity of his mind to create a noble emotional power and grandeur. In La Mort et le Mourant the passion rises to the heights of tragic art.
But it is in the dramatic poets that the relation between poetic technique and moral values is most clearly indicated. In all of them the formal alexandrine, like Pope's heroic couplet, is an achieved order in poetic technique which corresponds to an achieved order in civilization. The stylized vocabulary is also, as we have seen, indicative of moral values, sanctioned by society; and in each case, to varying degrees, the poet is concerned with the tension between this criterion and personal sensibility—with some kind of conflict between passion and social obligations.
The 'tension' is least marked in the earliest of the writers, Corneille; or at least in his work there is the minimum of ambiguity as to what ought to be the issue of the conflict. His early plays were written in the reign of Louis XIII, and represent a consolidation of values, an attempt to arrive at, to win to, a conception of order and stability:
Je suis maitre de moi, comme de Yunivers. Je le suis,je veux I'etre.
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Francois Couperin: Life and Times
The famous lines splendidly express the connection between personal and social integration, the proud assurance with which it is held, and also the effort of will-power involved (je veux l'etre') in achieving it. But if Corneille was aware of the effort, he had no doubt as to what ought to be its outcome:
Sur mes passions ma raison souveraine E&t blame mes soupirs et dissipe ma haine.
He never for a moment doubted that reason ought to dominate passion, and could do so. In a dedicatory epistle to La Place Royale he says:
C'est de vous que j'ai appris que l'amour d'un honnete homme doit etre toujours volontaire; que Ton ne doit jamais aimer en un tel point qu'en ne puisse jamais n'aimer pas; que si on en vient jusque-la, c'est une tyrannie dont il faut secouer le joug.
He is quite unequivocal; and his superb conviction echoes through the clang of his alexandrines, through the lucidity with which each word 'stays put', without emotional overtones. He did not advocate a passive acceptance of the code; but he was convinced that the code represented the wisdom of civilization, and that it must withstand all threats from within and without. It was greater than the individual; but it was for individual men to keep it alive as the safeguard of their sanity and happiness, and not to seek to destroy it. Though this was an attitude which could easily droop into complacency, within its limits its nobility, its heroic quality, was authentic.
The above is the conventional account of Corneille; it has not gone unchallenged. One interesting account of his work has suggested that his world, far from being unambiguous, is assailed by fundamental uncertainties and doubts; that his characters, particularly in the later plays, are wilfully living on error. The human will is prized for its power to impose order on chaos, independently of ethical considerations; there might almost seem to be, in Corneille's obsession with the power and the glory of absolutism, an element of psychological compensation for the timidity of his nature and the relative lowliness of his origin. If this account is accepted it gives a slightly different stress to, but does not radically alter, our case. For it would then appear that Corneille regarded order as so important that he was prepared to uphold it even if it entailed in some respects the substitution of error for truth. Such a view of the world, 36
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
must no doubt be considered a confession of failure, in so far as it sacrificed the grand Steele's ideal of a harmonious balance between collective and individual morality. It is, however, a failure that has an element of proud and impressive greatness.
Both Moliěre and Racine come at the zenith of the reign of the Roi Soleil. They accept the values that Corneille lived by and helped to create, and also die alexandrine and the stylized vocabulary that help to express them; but the tension between these values and the demands of personal sensibility is now more complex. This is demonstrated in the use which they make of the alexandrine. Their language has not the ceremonial precision of Corneille's, the rhythms are more flexible, the imagery 'suggests' more; just as, in the paintings of Poussin and Claude, the precise architecture of the proportions, the grouping of tones, the sculpturesque treatment of the figures with their stylized heroic gestures, are enriched by the sensuously evocative quality of the colour. In Moliere's case this increased flexibility goes alongside the fact that he wrote comedy rather than heroic tragedy; the language, though still urbane, is less consciously stylized, more close to galant conversation. We may observe in this connection that the conversation of so ordered a society slides into art almost without one noticing at what point the metamorphosis happens.
This great plasticity of rhythm and metaphor parallels a deeper psychological interest in the workings of the mind—of the personal consciousness. In Corneille the insistence is primarily on the moral order; in Moliěre the stress is on the complexity of the relations between the moral order and the personal sensibility. This tendency reaches its climax in Moliere's greatest play, Le Misanthrope, in which the balance between the two groups of interests is maintained with consummate subdety. To a degree, we are clearly meant to sympathize with Alceste in his attack on the idiocy and potential wickedness of empty social conventions; in so far as Céliměme represents them they are obviously unsatisfactory. But on the other hand we are clearly meant to feel that the intensity with which Alceste denounces is not altogether admirable; that it springs from a lack of'integration' in his own personality, and is in a sense adolescent. The poise is held by Philinte, the honnéte homme, who continually brings Alceste's transports to the bar of raison:
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connection we may note this significant comment of Mme de Sevigne: 'Le marechal de Gramont etait l'autre jour si transporte de la beaute d'un sermon de Bourdaloue, qu'il s'ecria tout haut, en un endroit qui le toucha, Mordi, il a raison!'
The religion of the age, that is, did not normally signify much in purely spiritual terms. It is certainly legitimate to suggest that Racine's Athalie entailed a conception of spiritual, even of mystical values which, although not unique, was exceptional. It is probable that Racine saw some analogy between the persecution of the Israelites and that of the Jansenists in his own day. And although there is no necessary connection between the spirituality of Athalie and Racine's conversion to Jansenism, none the less Athalie does help us to appreciate the significance of the Jansenist movement in the world of the Roi Soleil. Corneille's heroic plays suggest that through reason and the human will order may be attained and preserved; Racine's tragic plays suggest that reason and the human will are helpless without the intervention of God's grace. Whereas the Cornelian hero believes that he is 'maitre de moi comme de l'univers', Racine's heroine says 'je crains de me connoitre en l'etat ou je suis'. Impli-cidy, Racine makes the same point about the corruption of the world in which he lived as Mme de Maintenon makes when she says:
Otez ces fillcs qui ne respirent que le monde. . . . Otez ces beaux esprits qui dedaignent tout ce qui est simple, qui s'ennuient de cette vie uniforme, de ces plaisirs doux et innocents et qui dearent de faire leur volenti". (My italics.)
Implicitly, Racine offers a criticism of the Cartesian view of the destiny of man to which Corneille in the main adheres.
Descartes's mechanical view of nature, his belief in the sovereignty of reason as the only means of obtaining knowledge of material things, presented the grand siede with a philosophical formulation of the values it lived by. 'The whole is greater than the parts' is a creed reflected no less in social behaviour than in the administration of Colbert, the gardens of Le Notre, the theatre music of Lully, the buildings of Mansart, the decorations of Lebrun; and the aesthetic theories of Boileau are an exact counterpart of Cartesian philosophy, for both attempt to interpret nature through reason, deprecate enthusiasm, start empirically from the present moment, and are com-40
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
pletely non-historical. (To Moliere, Gothic cathedrals were odious monstrosities of the ignorant centuries.) Moreover, like most of the people of his time, Descartes reconciled his instinct for rationality and order with a profound interest in the workings of the human mind, expressed in the Traité des Passions de Varne. Here he demonstrates that the passions are good in themselves; that evil consists in the wrong or immoderate use of them; and that only through reason can one decide which use is justified, which is not. Descartes, like Lully and Corneille, remained formally a Catholic, and his theories of the absolute and infinite Thought which our individual thoughts presuppose were much exploited by Catholic theologians as a 'rational' proof of God's existence. Even the Jansenists found in the pre-determinist aspects of his thought something which seemed superficially to support their beliefs. But in the most important respects Descartes's thought was fundamentally non-religious. Bossuet, the exponent of Catholic orthodoxy, perceived that the insistence on the pre-eminence of reason inevitably led to free thought; Pascal, more profoundly, realized that Descartes's teaching was inimical to the concept of Grace.
In some respects a man of the new world, a brilliant mathematician imbued with the spirit of scientific curiosity, and at first himself a Cartesian, Pascal was at the same time of a fervently religious temperament rather alien to the outlook of his age. It was his intellectual equipment that disposed of the Cartesian proof of God's existence; it was his religious temperament that, when once he had exposed the fallacies which in his opinion made Cartesiánism not a bulwark of Christianity but its potential destroyer, led him to develop his notion of the dual reasons of heart and mind. The heart has its reasons, of which raison knows nothing. Descartes, he said, would much have preferred to have dispensed with God in the whole of his intellectual system, but had to bring Him in to set his mechanistic universe in motion; that done, Descartes had no further use for Him. But to Pascal, whose natural proclivities were encouraged by the Jansenist preoccupation with St Augustine and by his long brooding over the stoicism of Montaigne, the opposition between good and evil cannot be explained in purely rational terms; and the proof of the existence of God lies in the misery of man without Him.
Such an attitude goes to enforce a peculiar gloom. The proofs of
4i
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
Original Sin and of the Fall are all around one in cynicism, scepticism and folly; only through the crucified Christ can sin be redeemed. Crucifixion, in one form or another, is the only hope of life to come, and by inference the only tolerable form of life here and now. Beneath die suave lucidity which characterizes not only the prose of the Lettres Provinciates but even die casual epigrammatic jottings of the Pensees, the mystic's ecstasy of self-immolation burns with unquenchable passion. We can see something similar in the tautness of line which gives such tension to the apparendy tranquil paintings of Pascal's and Arnauld's friend, Philippe de Champagne.
Naturally, the group of Solitaries who met and meditated at the Cistercian nunnery of Port Royal did not normally carry their religious fervour as far as Pascal's Augustinian abnegation; but their oudook did have a two-fold relation to the life of the time. In a positive sense it was a recognition that there were aspects of experience which the values of the contemporary world were apt to neglect. From this point of view it is not, of course, to be considered in narrowly sectarian terms. Jansenism did not necessarily involve religious partisanship. The Jesuit Bourdaloue and people such as Mme de Maintenon and Mme de Sevigne who were the intimates of Jesuit circles were impregnated with Jansenism; just as the cleric Fenelon, who took the side of the Jesuits in the controversy over efficacious grace, could support the case of the later quietist sect in the affair of Mme Guyon.
And then in a negative sense, it was a reaction from the world of Versailles, with its absolute identification of Church and State; it was not so much a search for new values as an admission that the vitality of society depended on a balance between organization and human impulses which seemed in danger of growing lop-sided. So elaborately organized a world, calling for so much unity and conformity, could exist only under a despotism. Racine had dreamed that that despotism might be the rule of the Holy Spirit; Saint-Simon, looking back, saw clearly that it had become the despotism not of God, but of an arrogant man, self-deified, so afraid of la verite that he had to surround himself with an army of sycophants who would tell him what he wanted to believe, and nothing else. In Racine's attitude there was still something of mediaevalism; the course of history represented the triumph and the tragedy of the Cornelian ideal of 42
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
'maitre de moi'. The identification of King and God is revealed in a famous passage from La Bruyere:
Qui considerera que le visage du prince fait toute la felicite' du courtisan, qu'il s'occupe et se remplit pendant toute sa vie de le voir et d'en etre vu, comprendra un peu comment voir Dieu peut faire toute la gloire et tout le bonheur des Saints;
while in a sermon on the occasion of the Dauphin's birth, Senault compared Louis with God the Father and the Dauphin with Christ. Louis himself said, 'Celui qui a donne des rois aux hommes a voulu qu'on les respectat comme ses lieutenants'. We must remember however that the King's absolutism obtained an enormous popular support; and this was partly due to the fact that the peasants and bourgeoisie felt that the only alternative was the anarchy of the nobility and the horrors of the Fronde.
It is easy to exaggerate the degree to which the court culture was removed from everyday life; we shall later note plenty of evidence that it preserved some contact with popular elements. Most of the great artists of the time were not professional courtiers, and many of them never even visiied Versailles. Yet there is some truth in the conventional account that the artificial removal of the court from the centre of French life in Paris has a quasi-symbolical significance. In a sense, it was only because the court was self-enclosed and homogeneous that it could evolve such lucid moral values, and achieve such subdety and depth within them. But it is interesting that a person of such exquisite nervous adjustment as Mme de Sevigne can write with callous indifference of the sufferings of people outside her circle; that she can cheerfully describe the breaking on the wheel of an itinerant musician involved in a provincial rebellion, casually remark that the hanging of sixty scapegoats is to begin tomorrow, and conclude with the pious reflection that this will no doubt serve as a lesson to any others who might be thinking of throwing stones into their betters' gardens. Significantly, it is only after the midsummer of the culture that a humane sympathy with other spheres of life begins—in the painting of Chardin for instance—to manifest itself. As we shall see, there is perhaps an anticipation of this in some of Couperin's later clavecin pieces.
Towards the latter end of the reign the appreciation of the dangers latent in its autocracy assumed, in many of the most acute minds of
43
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
the time, the proportions of a social conscience. Saint-Simon criticized the absolutism of the King, the cult of la gloire and war, the misery it brought in its wake, and the ultimate stupidity of it:
C'est done avec grande raison qu'on doit deplorer avec larmes l'horreur d'une education uniquement dressee pour etouffer l'esprit et le cceur de ce prince, le poison abominable de la flatterie la plus insigne, qui le deifia dans la sein meme du christianisme, et la cruelle politique de ces ministres, qui l'enferma, et qui pour leur grandeur, leur puissance et leur fortune l'enivre-rent de son autorite, de sa grandeur, de sa gloire jusqu'a le corrompre, et a etouffer en lui, sinon toute la bont£, l'equite, le desir de connoitre la verite, que Dieu lui avoit donne\ au moins l'emousserent presque entierement, et empecherent au moins sans cesse qu'il fit aucun usage de ces vertus, dont son royaume et lui-meme furent les victimes.
Fenelon is no less severe:
Quelle detestable maxime que de ne croire trouver sa surety que dans l'oppression de ses peuples. . . . Est-ce le vrai chemin qui mene a la gloire? Souvenez-vous que les pays ou la domination du souverain est plus absolue sont eux ou les souverains sont moins puissants. lis prennent, ils ruinent tout, ils possedent seuls tout l'Etat; mais tout l'Etat languit. Les campagnes sont en friche et presque desertes; les villes diminuent chaque jour, le commerce tarit. Le roi, qui ne peut etre roi tout seul, et qui n'est grand que par ses peuples, s'aneantit lui-meme peu a peu par l'aneantissement de ses peuples dont il tire ses richesses et sa puissance. . . . Le mepris, la haine, le ressenti-ment, la defiance, en un mot toutes les passions se reunissent contre une autorite si odieuse.
This sombre vision is reinforced by La Fontaine's moving fable of La Mort et Le Bucheron, and by La Bruyere's terrible picture of life in the country districts:
L'on voit certains animaux farouches... repandues par la campagne, noirs, livides, et tout brules de soleil, attaches a la terre, qu'ils fouillent et qu'ils remuent avec une opiniatret£ invincible. . . . Quand ils se levent sur leurs pieds, ils montrent une face humaine; et en effet ils sont des hommes. Ils se retirent la nuit dans des tanieres ou ils vivent de pain noir, d'eau, et de racines;
though we must remember that conditions in the countryside varied enormously, and that in many parts a rural folk culture was still very vigorous. We must remember too that the mere fact that Saint-Simon, Fenelon, La Bruyere and many others can write such astringent criticism is itself testimony to the intellectual honesty which their society permitted them. Their account must be qualified by the manifest achievements of Versailles, which they not only appreciate, but represent. None the less, the weakness is there; and how in-44
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
separably it is linked with the virtues is demonstrated most subtly in Mme de La Fayette's great novel, La Princesse de Cleves.
The world here described by Mme de La Fayette is one in which the existence of absolute values is accepted as unquestionably as are standards of manners; the characters speak of la verite, I'honneur and so on without any conscious ambiguity. The theme of the book is the analysis, within this scheme of values, of the passions of personal relationships, particularly sexual passion. With great subtlety we are shown how, in such a closely ordered society, personal life is inevitably mixed with public; how amour merges into intrigue, and that into affaires. Between private and public life a balance ought to be maintained. But what in fact seems to happen is that amour reveals a fatal disparity between public affairs and the ideal absolute values that are supposed to give them meaning. Order is meaningless apart from what, in human terms, is ordered; yet in practice society does not regulate amour, but amour proves that the pretensions of society are not what they seem. It destroys tranquillity of mind, and ultimately, therefore, civilization:
L'ambition et la galanterie etoient l'ame de cette Cour (the book is ostensibly set in the court of Henri II, but this is no more than a tactful disguise for the contemporary court) et occupoient tous les hommes et les femmes. Il y avoit tant d'interets et tant de cabales differentes, et les dames y avaient tant de part, que l'amour etoit toujours mele aux affaires, et les affaires a l'amour, Personne n'etoit tranquille ni indifferent; on songeoit a s'elever, a plaire, a servir, ou a nuire; on ne connoissoit ni l'ennui ni l'oisivete' et on etoit toujours occupe des plaisirs ou des intrigues.
This attitude is similar to that expressed in more dolorous terms by La Bruyere:
Il ya un pays ou les joies sont visibles, mais fausses, et les chagrins caches, mais reels. Qui croirait que l'empressement pour les spectacles, que les eclats et les applaudissements aux theatres de Moliere et d'Arlequin, les repas, la chasse, les ballets, les carrousels couvrissent tant d'inquietudes, de soins et de divers interets, tant de craintes et d'esperances, des passions si vives et des affaires si serieuses?
and broadly parallel to that expressed by Moliere in Le Misanthrope; and while possibly Moliere and certainly Racine would have said that the remedy was not to have less love but to have more wisdom in dealing with it, there is here a paradox by which many sensitive and intelligent people of the time must have been bewildered. There
45
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
is no easy solution to it. The end of the book, the woman's entry into the convent, is as much an evasion of the issues as Alceste's threat to run off into the desert, since there is no evidence that the Princess has experienced any spiritual conversion. Such a religious solution almost certainly calls for some special aptitude, and a type of mind similar to that of Racine, Pascal or Couperin. The Jansen-ists, one imagines, must have been composed partly of people like Pascal, partly of people whose motives resembled those of the Princesse de Cleves; and there can be no doubt that in the society as a whole the Princesses de Cleves must gready have outnumbered the Racines and the Pascals.
In some ways comparable with the entry of Mme de La Fayette's heroine into the convent is Louis's own belated religiosity—as opposed to the religious emotion of the Jansenists, whom the God-King persecuted as being rebellious to the State Church and to his absolute authority. The great age of the Roi Soleilwas over, internal corruption was increasing, la gloire was not what it had been. The succession of military triumphs began to be succeeded by an equally monotonous series of defeats. Despondency echoed hollowly through the corridors of Versailles, and the King pathetically pretended, perhaps even believed—for he was not consciously insincere—that la gloire was not what he had lived for; that his nature, at least under the influence of Mme de Maintenon, was essentially religious; that he liked nothing so much as to be alone with God. So this King of the Sun, who abhorred limited horizons, retired to a damp, forest-enclosed house in a mean valley at Marly ('un m&hant village, sans cloture, sans vue, ni moyens d'en avoir, un repaire de serpents et de charognes, de crapauds et de grenouilles', Saint-Simon called it); rather like—to descend from the sublime to the tawdry—another addict of power, Henry Ford, who in his old age became a passionate antiquarian, buying up quaint old pubs, rebuilding the old farm home stead just as it was when he was a lad, trying to put everything back, as Dos Passos put it, 'as it was in the days of horses and buggies'. It almost seems that Louis himself came to accept the irony of La Bruyere; 'Un esprit sain puise a la cour le gout de la solitude et de la retraite*. The deeper irony of the position is that Louis could not escape his self-imposed destiny. He ended by transforming his successive retreats from pomp and circumstance into the very thing he 46
Values and Standards in the Grand Siecle
had been seeking to avoid. Marly grew into a miniature Versailles; just as Ford's rural homesteads glittered with Every Modern Convenience.
It was in the more melancholy latter end of Louis's reign that Couperin's genius matured. Of course the gradual changes cannot have been very perceptible to someone working within that self-enclosed circle; and it would be utterly erroneous to find anything valedictory in Couperin's classical, positive, and on the whole serene art. But we might be justified in saying that the conditions under which he worked influenced his outlook in two unobtrusive, connected ways. They imbued some of his music with a sensuous tenderness and wistfulness beneath its elegant bearing which, like the comparable quality in the painting of his great contemporary Watteau, springs from an apprehension of transience; from a recognition that all this graciousness and beauty must pass away, perhaps quite soon. And they encouraged him to develop the religious aspect of his genius which produced his greatest work and is as much more 'spiritual' in conception than Lully's ceremonial art, as Racine's late work is more spiritual than that of Corneille. (I shall hope in the course of this book to demonstrate, in terms of the technique of music, what I mean by these generalizations.)
Couperin's music thus gives an oddly subtle impression of being simultaneously of his world, and not of it; just as the world of Watteau's pictures is simultaneously the real world, and a golden, idealized, never-never land of the spirit. In one sense, Couperin may still be the galant homme, the symbol of civilization painted compe-tendy if not very profoundly by men such as Mignard and Hyacinthe Rigaud. In another sense, he is the black-robed figure who, in some paintings of Watteau, beside the merry throng discoursing and flirting with such gracious urbanity, stands quietly in his corner, seeming to suggest not that the junketings are meaningless, the gestures empty, the urbanity a sham, but that, though the company may be deUghtful, one may be lonely, still. This is something much more complex and valuable than the emotion of nostalgia; it is an achieved equilibrium which, for being sensitive, is no less strong. It was because Paris, 'le theatre des scenes tendres et galantes', seemed to be becoming a place where 'chacun y est occupy de ses chagrins et de sa misere', that many sensitive spirits sought in a mythical He de Cythere a civilization that was not subject to calumniating Time,
47
Francois Coupehin: Life and Times
where age and bitterness and the complexity of human emotions did not destroy the qualities that make civilization possible:
Venez dans File de Cythere
En pelerinage avec nous,
Jeunejille nen revient guere
Ou sans amant ou sans epoux,
Et Yon y fait sa grande affaire
Des amusements les plus doux. This was not merely an escape. It was an attempt to achieve in art something which the real world could not give. The world which Watteau and Couperin present to us is one in which the codes and the values of the time are not frustrated—as they so painfully were in real life—by people's wickedness or stupidity; in which there is no disparity between intention and realization. In this connection it seems to me no accident that in the last years of the seventeenth century appeared the work of the King and Queen of fairy-tale writers, Charles Perrault and Mme d'Aulnoy. It is important to remember that, at their very much slighter level, these tales are not unallied to the religious aspects of the art of Couperin and Racine.
The society of Louis XIV was not unique in producing some of its most consummate artistic manifestations when its end was near; one could say almost as much of Shakespeare's society. But in approaching Couperin it is not the decline we should think of; we should remember the beauty and magnificence of the achievements of this society rather than the gossip and intrigue, and the more idiotic affectations of court etiquette.6 It was in the walks of the Tuileries that Racine absentmindedly declaimed his tragedies to a group of labourers on the waterworks; it was in the theatres and salons of this community that Lully and Moliere talked over their latest enterprise, that La Fontaine told his immortal fables, and Perrault his no less immortal tales. Make all the qualifications you like, but how many times has there been a better environment for an artist ro be born into? Perrault was justified when he said of Versailles: Ce nest pas un Palais, cest une ville entiere, Superbe en sa grandeur, superbe en sa matiere, Non, cestplutot un Monde, ou dugrand Univers Se trouvent rassemblez les miracles divers. 6 It was a popular saying that courtiers had three things to remember: speak well of everyone, ask for everything that is going, and sit down when you get the chance.
48
Vcue de la Grande et Petite Escurie et des Deux Cours
Chapter Three
Taste during the Grand Siecle
La belle Antiquity fut toujours venerable,
Mais je ne crus jamais qu'elle fust adorable.
Je voy les Anciens, sans plier les genoux,
lis sont grands, il est vray, mais hommes comme nous:
Et Ton peut comparer sans craindre d'etre injuste,
Le Siecle de Louis au beau siecle d'Auguste.
perrault: Le Sikle de Louis le Grand.
Parallele des Anciens et des Modernes
In the last chapter we have tried to give some idea of the values and moral concepts of the world which Couperin inherited. In a general sense these values conditioned the ways in which he felt and thought, and therefore the nature of his music; but we can adequately assess their influence on his art only if we supplement our general remarks on the values of the time with some more particular comments on the evolution of taste and on the relation between the artist and the grand siecle audience. For it is not too much to say that the taste of Couperin's day was the consequence of a long maturing which had gone on more or less continuously since the beginning of the seventeenth century. Only against this background are some aspects of Couperin's art intelligible.
The classical conception of a lofty, noble, and heroic art, apposite to a heroic mode of life, was originally associated with the Renaissance attempt to establish a finer discrimination in social tone. The civilizing influence of women in the early years of the century did more than create a taste for the exquisite. The tremendous vogue for Honors d'Urfe's interminable pastoral romance L'Astree was attributable not so much to its literary merits—though it was not devoid of graciousness—as to the fact that it offered a primer of good manners; a chivalric code going back not only to French, Spanish d 49
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
and Italian pastoral romances of the sixteenth century, but still more to the troubadours. Women, the ornaments of the world, were to be served and worshipped; and in the pages of L'Astree men could learn how to serve them, the phrases to use, the gestures to indulge in, the refinements of approach and response. If at one level this seemed frivolous enough, it offered opportunities for civilized intercourse which the more intelligent and sensitive were quick to seize upon. Soon Mme de Rambouillet's Blue Room was providing an environment in which men and women could meet together to discuss seriously, within a scheme of conventional courtesies, not only the etiquette of love, but all aspects of human behaviour and psychology, the values and standards of art, even grammar. The Hotel de Ram-bouillet offered a series of rules for living, and a rallying point where artists could meet to discuss their work, as members of society honoured by virtue of their calling. Moreover, it provided for those artists an audience which, though not large, had high discrimination and an adult morality. Mme de Scudery's fictional description of such a society was not so far from the reality in its heyday:
On y voit sans doute, comme ailleurs, des gens qui ont une fausse galan-terie insupportable; mais, a parler generalement, il y a je ne sais quel esprit de politesse, qui regne dans cette cour, qui la rend fort agreable et qui fait qu'on y trouve effectivement un nombre incroyable d'hommes fort accom-plis. Et ce qui les rend tels est que les gens de quality de Phenicie ne font pas profession d'etre dans une ignorance grossi£re de toutes sortes de sciences, comme on en voit en quelques autres cours ou on s'imagine qu'un homme qui sait se servir d'une epee doit ignorer toutes les autres choses; au con-traire il n'y a presque pas un homme de condition a notre cour qui ne sache juger assez delicatement des beaux ouvrages, et qui ne cherche du moins a se faire honneur en honorant ceux qui savent plus que lui.
This was not a society of specialists, but of people whose' education' covered every aspect of their lives.
From the early years of the century, the civilizing tendency in social behaviour is accompanied by a civilizing classicism in literature. Both the salon of Mme de Rambouillet and the aesthetic of Malherbe banned 'low' words and provincialisms; and Malherbe's insistence on lucidity and purity of style in poetry was influenced by the growing tendency for men of fashion, the representatives of the salons, to intermingle with the professional men of letters. The nobility increasingly dabbled in literary and musical composition, 50
Taste during thb Grand Siecle
and the professional writers and musicians were increasingly accepted in aristocratic society; most of the leading artists in the great classical period were to come from bourgeois stock, later to be ennobled by Louis. In general, Malherbe's critical aesthetic is a remarkable anticipation of full-flown classicism, as is Richelieu's transformation of a polite literary circle into the Academie francaise. Balzac's pohshing of the cadences of his prose, and Vaugelas's work on the dictionary and his Remarques sur la langue francaise, aimed to regulate language not in accordance with an abstract system of rules, but with the usage of 'la plus saine partie de la cour et des ecrivains du temps'. "We may note as an example of the centralizing tendencies of the time, that whereas Malherbe had said that the language of poetry ought to contain no phrase that an educated Parisian could not understand, in Vaugelas's prescription the model is narrowed to that of the court.
None of these men was himself remarkable for creative genius; their formalizing influence was, however, of as great an importance as was that of Mme de Rambouillet in the field of social conduct. In the works of the minor but truly creative poets who, though they jeered at Malherbe, would not have written as they did but for his work, we can find a combination of exquisite sensibility with nobility of bearing which is the product of a high degree of civilization. And this is something which survives in La Fontaine and, despite many cultural upheavals, well into Couperin's day. We can trace some relation between the simultaneous exquisiteness and gravity of one of Couperin's pastoral pieces and, say, a lyric of Tristan l'Hermite, for 'exquisiteness' is not a characteristic of the classical age itself. Perhaps, too, the measured nobility of the great chaconnes of the clavecinists has something of the lofty purity of the odes and elegies of the early years of the century.
The society of the Blue Room had created a public with standards both of technique and morality. It was perhaps inevitable that as it grew in size it should decline in quality. The great days of the salon were over by 1650; its material growth outpaced its moral growth, and its standards were overlaid by a veneer of immature sophistication. Something of this is expressed in a passage from La Bruyere:
Voiture et Scarron dtaient nes pour leur siecle, et ils ont paru dans un temps oil il semble qu'ils etaient attendus; s'ils s'etaient moins presses de
51
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
venir, ils arrivcraient txop tard, et j'ose douter qu'ils fussent tels aujourd'hui qu'ils ont 6t6 alors: les conversations legeres, les cercles, la fine plaisanterie, les enjouees et familieres, les petites parties ou Ton etait admis seulement avec de l'esprit, tout a disparu. Et qu'on ne dise point qu'ils le feraient revivre; ce que je puis faire en faveur de leur esprit est de convenir que peut-etre ils excelleraient dans un autre genre; mais les femmes sont de nos jours ou devotes, ou coquettes, ou joueuses, ou ambitieuses, quelques-unes mSrne tout cela ä la fois; le goüt de la faveur, le jeu, les galants, les directeurs, ont pris la place, et la dependent contre les gens d'esprit.
Of course the excesses of the precieuses—the ultimate inability to call a spade a spade—were the development of elements which were present in the society of Mme de Rambouillet. In the salons of Mile de Scudery and of the other successors of the original Hotel de Rambouillet, however, the conventional stylizations of language and behaviour gradually came to have a less intimate relation to life. Mile de Scudery's super-subtle attempts to define la galanterie are an indication of the atmosphere of the precious mid-century:
Cependant cet air galant dont j'entends parier ne consiste point precis6-ment a avoir beaucoup d'esprit, beaucoup de jugement, et beaucoup de savoir, et c'est quelque chose de si particulier et de si difficile 4 acquerir quand on ne l'a point, qu'on ne sait ou le prendre ni ou le chercher. Car enfin je connois un homme que toute la compagnie connoit aussi, qui est bien' fait, qui a de l'esprit, qui est magnifique en train, en meubles et en habillements, qui est propre, qui parle judicieusement et juste, qui de plus fait ce qu'il peut pour avoir l'air galant, et qui cependant est le moins galant de tous les hommes. . . . Je suis persuade qu'il faut que la nature mette du moins dans l'esprit et dans la personne de ceux qui doivent avoir l'air galant une certaine disposition de le recevoir; il faut de plus que le grand commerce du monde et de la cour aide encore ä le dormer; et il faut aussi que la conversation des femmes le donne aux hommes ... je dirai encore qu'il faut meme qu'un homme ait eu, du moins une fois de sa vie, quelque leg&re inclination amoureuse pour acquerir parfaitement Fair galant.
The epics and romances of such writers as Chapelain and Madeleine de Scudery, with their jargon ofgalanterie, their ludicrously flattering portraits of commonplace people, were an inflation beyond the bounds of sense of qualities which had once been admirable. They were the result of the too rapid growth of a reading public, for they appealed to a public which was educated enough to toy with the externals of the galant conventions, without being sufficiently educated to understand what, for the original circle, those conven-52
Taste during the Grand Siecle
tions had stood for. La Bruyere gives a trenchant account of this bogus education:
Avec cinq ou six termes de l'art, et rien de plus, Ton se donne pour connoisseur en musique, en tableaux, en batiments, et en bonne chere; Ton croit avoir plus de plaisir qu'un autre a entendre, a voir, et a manger; Ton impose k ses semblables et Ton se trompe soi-meme. La cour n'est jamais denude d'un certain nombre de gens en qui l'usage du monde, la politesse ou la fortune tiennent lieu d'esprit et suppleent au merite; ils savent entrer et sortir, ils se tirent de la conversation en ne s'y melant point, ils plaisent k force de se taire, et se rendent importants par un silence longtemps soutenu, ou tout au plus par quelques monosyllables; ils payent de mines, d'un geste, et d'un sourire. Ils n'ont pas, si je l'ose dire, deux pouces de profondeur: si vous les enfoncez, vous rencontrez le tuf.
The members of Mme de Rambouillet's society wanted to purify language as well as behaviour, but they did not deliberately put the stress on the difference of their language from that of ordinary people, as did the precieuses of the mid-century, according to Somaize's Grand Dictionnaire des Pretieuses, published in 1661. Moreover, the very last tiling that members of the Blue Room would have said was that, even in matters of pleasure and entertainment, they valued imagination more than truth.
At the same time we cannot regard the precieux phase of the middle years of the century merely as the decline of a highly developed civilization. The cheaper sophistication prevalent during the early years of the Fronde, after the retirement of Mme de Rambouillet and of Julie d'Angennes, was an inevitable consequence of the expansion of a homogeneous group, and the part it played in moulding the taste of the time was far from ephemeral. At its best the precieux vocabulary was as much a part of Corneille's moral code as was the neo-Platonic conception of love he inherited from L'Astree. Even Moliere, who delivered a frontal assault on the affectations of the Precieuses Ridicules, assimilated much of the love-etiquette of preciosite and employed its stylized vocabulary not only in verse but in prose as well. In a musical form it appears, we shall see, in the technique of the lutenists, and Chambonnieres' ornamentation may be considered a manifestation of it. Even as late as Couperin's day its influence is still discernible.
One literary form which the cult of preciosite assumed was a consciously naive, archaizing, pseudo-popular style of occasional poetry,
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invented by the celebrated wit of Mme de Rambouillet's salon, Vincent Voiture. About the middle of the century, this type of 'marotic' verse—so called because of its deliberate introduction of archaisms mostly taken from the work of Clement Marot—became highly fashionable, and it was perfected by La Fontaine in the early part of his career. The work of the Jesuit Du Cerceau, one of the most admired humorous poets of the day, proves that in Couperin's time the marotic line was still vigorous; Du Cerceau wrote a preface to the first re-edition of Villon in 1723, in which he treats Villon as a forerunner of the marotic vein. Certainly there is an aspect of Couperin's work—a consciously popular manner, a sophisticatedly naive interest in 'old' French things which are regarded as at once naturels and ingénieux—which relates back to this tradition: and we may mention too the elegantly rustic galanteries which Bodin de Boismortier composed for flutes, bagpipes, and hurdy-gurdy.
Closely associated with this type of occasional verse was the burlesque tradition, an outpouring of sophisticated high-spirits which were irresponsible because uncritical. Practised mainly by Scarron and d'Assoucy, burlesque was a travesty of classical literature in an affectedly 'low' language, a smart game intentionally inverting the precepts both of Malherbe and of Mme de Rambouillet.6 Spanish and Italian drama and literature, particularly Marini, were absorbed into a local convention, devised to meet a popular demand. The nobler spirits protested against it; Poussin for instance dismissed Scarron's Typhon as 'dégoůtanť. None the less, the burlesque manner influenced the outlook of the century. Couperin's pieces 'dans le goůt burlesque' are not unrelated to it; certainly they have an oblique connection with it through the commedia dell'arte.
The Italian players, with their stylized and yet improvisatory art, had been cultivated in France all through the sixteenth and early seventeenth century. There is a reference to a 'Maistre André italien' and his company as early as 1530, the celebrated Gelosi troup were in France in 1571, and Isabella Andreini, as cultured and distinguished as she was beautiful, died in France in 1604, her memory being feted all over Europe. During the first half of the seventeenth century, the
6 The burlesque tradition is later found in theatre music, as well as in literature and the drama. A parody of the Lully-Quinault opera Phaeton was extremely popular in Paris, towards the end of the century. It may have had some bearing on the growth of the English ballad opera.
54
Taste during the Grand Siecle
companies of the Accesi and the Fedeli were in repeated demand in France. But it was not until the mid-century that the vogue reached its height, and until 1660 that the Italian players, at the instigation of Mazarin, founded a permanent Parisian group. The great Scara-mouche Fiorilli at one time lodged and worked in collaboration with Moliěre himself, at the Petit Bourbon; the story of the friendship between them, and of the way Moliěre incorporated many aspects of the Italian theatre into the French comedy, is well known. Other celebrated Italian players, including BiancolelH as Harlequin, were intermittently in the French company, and the conventional commedia characters soon became a part, not only of the French theatre, but of French popular culture. As Louis, swayed by Mme de Maintenon, grew more sober-minded with advancing years, the vogue of the Italian players declined, until in 1697 they were expelled for having made some tacdess witticism at the expense of la fausse prude. But their reign had lasted long enough to make a profound impression on the sensibilities of the young Couperin and Watteau. There is a moving picture of their farewell by Watteau; and in all his work, and in Couperin's pantomime, harlequin and other pieces dans legoút burlesque, the old stylizations are rarefied and immortalized. Here we can gain some notion of the beauty, pathos and wit that the improvization of such highly cultured and imaginative artists as Isabella Andreini, Fiorilli, and Biancolelli must have given to the conventional framework, in the heyday of the commedia. Like Shakespearean tragedy, the commedia appealed at a number of different levels. It was of course a popular entertainment; but for those who had eyes to see and ears to hear, that was not the whole story.
Here however we are not concerned with what the commedia meant to a Couperin or a Watteau; we are concerned with it as an aspect of taste during the middle years of the century; and in this respect one might legitimately correlate the hardening of the official attitude to its frivolity with Boileau's attack on the various facets of preciositě. There are certainly many signs, round about the sixteen-sixties, that a fresh start was considered necessary; we may perhaps best appreciate the significance of, for instance, La Rochefoucauld's rather sentimental (tnélancolique) cynicism if we see in it a recognition that the conventional counters of etiquette were becoming
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divorced from their moral implications, so that la verite began to look suspiciously like self-interest. Within the narrow range of experience which he allowed himself, La Rochefoucauld had an acute insight, typical of his time; none the less he is, despite the metallic precision of his comments, the product of a phase of relative decadence. The Great Age might have countered his arguments with the words of Vauvenargues: 'Le corps a ses graces, l'esprit a ses talents; le coeur n'aurait-il que des vices, et rhomme capable de raison, serait-il incapable de vertu?'
Boileau has been much castigated for his inadequate appreciation of the great poets of his time, yet his pedestrian approach has value in so far as it sums up ideals and opinions from which even the greatest, consciously or unconsciously, profited. His critical aesthetic had two main, interlinked purposes. One was to establish a criterion of naturalness and lucidity, in opposition to the unreality of precio-site; in this he was the climax of the tradition which had been established by Malherbe. The other was to insist on the relationship between aesthetic and moral standards. He wanted to give the growing and comparatively irresponsible reading public a standard of reference by reminding it of classical achievements. Roughly speaking, this phase lasted from about 1660 to the publication of the Art Poetique in 1674, when it attained a resounding European success.
We have seen in the last chapter that Boileau's aesthetic was in some ways a reduction into literary terms of the Cartesian philosophical outlook, and thus a seminal creation of the time; and we have seen that most of the great writers show some kind of conflict between Boileau's ideal of Nature ordered by Reason, and the complexity of human passions. What ultimately matters is how the great artists use the conventional framework; but in this chapter, concerned as we are with the fluctuations of taste, it is the nature of the framework itself that interests us. Boileau did not object to the precieux style per se; he accepted it, with reservations, in Corneille for instance. He objected to it only in so far as it had become, in such works as Mile de Scudery's novels and Scarron's plays and burlesques, frivolous and irresponsible. This is why he insisted on themes of a high moral elevation and of general, as opposed to topical and local, interest; and the best way to achieve such a generalized significance seemed to him to be through the imitation of 56
Taste during the Grand Sibcle
classical antiquity. He did not advocate pastiche; he recommended the use of a convention which liberated the author from the ephemeral. The artist should aim to interpret man in his general and eternal, rather than in particular, aspects. He should exercise his powers of selection in determining what is important, what is not, remembering always that 'tout ce qu'on dit de trop est fade et rebutanť. Above all he should avoid triviality, even in comedy.
While Boileau's attitude is in some respects so closely rooted in the Cartesian outlook, in others it is clearly irreconcilable with Cartesianism. For if one fully accepts the supremacy of reason and the irrelevance of history, art, like human nature, ought to be growing progressively less imperfect, so that to study the ancients, even in order to reinterpret them, would be absurd. This latent paradox became more evident in 1688, in the famous quarrel of the Ancients and Moderns, in which Fontenelle, Perrault (the author, strangely enough, of the fairy tales), and Malebranche took the progressively 'modern' scientific view, whereas the leading artists on the whole defended the Ancients. Boileau himself was reduced to a feeble compromise, maintaining that perhaps the Ancients were better at some things, the Moderns at others. But even this confusion is a part of Boileau's representative significance, for a mingling of reverence for antiquity with a progressive modernism is found repeatedly in the oudook and culture of the time. The classical ideal came to have a very direct bearing on contemporary life, as we may see from, among many possible examples, this passage in which Fénelon recommends
aux jeunes filles la noble simplicitě qui parait dans les statues . . . qui nous restent des femmes grecques et romaines; elles y verraient combien des cheveux noués négligemment par derriěre, et des draperies pleines et flottantes á longs plis sont agréables et majestueuses. Il serait bon méme qu'elles entendissent parler les peintres et les autres gens qui ont ce gout exquis de l'antiquite. . . . Je sais bien qu'il ne faut pas souhaiter qu'elles prennent l'exterieur antique; il y aurait de l'extravagance a le vouloir; mais elles pourraient, sans aucune singularitě, prendre le goůt de cette simplicitě d'habits si noble, si gracieuse, et d'ailleurs si convenable aux mceurs chrétiennes.
Here we see Boileau's literary precepts translated into terms of social etiquette. Their rational belief in their own standards gives to these people their self-confidence; their habitual reference to a criterion
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outside themselves—in this case antiquity—preserves their humility, their sense of the mean. It is this union of self-confidence with humility which is so impressively demonstrated in La Bruyere's essay Des Jugements. It still survives in Couperin's attitude to his art, and the part played by the classical ideal in achieving it should not be lightly estimated.
Classicism begins and ends with the distinction of genres which is an expression in art of a refinement of social approach. Everything is well in its proper place; 'tout poéme est briliant de sa propre beauté'. The generation that lived on after Boileau's death into the Regency marked in some ways a return once more to the precious, a softening of the outlines, a loosening of the tension between etiquette and morality. And yet all this veering and tacking between the noble and heroic, the naive and ingenious, the archaic and popular, the pompous and intimate is a part of the gradual maturing of public taste. If the values and standards are becoming less clearly defined, they are also becoming operative for a wider public. The autocracy of Versailles is decaying and the life of Paris is beginning to take its place. A tendency towards decentralization is manifested in every branch of social entertainment. Art, expressing the ideal of douceur de vivre, becomes easier and more familiar. Architecture changes from the 'official' grandeur of Mansart to the style of a Robert de Cotte, which preserves something of the external magnificence, but inside is gracious, elegantly ornamented, comfortable, suited to the intercourse of a more amiably intimate society.' In painting the propagandist Lebrun is succeeded by the more personally emotional Watteau; in music Couperin follows Lully. The history of the opera and ballet during the last years of Louis's reign and the early years of the Regency reveals the changing outlook most clearly. But this is a subject of such crucial importance for the understanding of the musical culture that Couperin inherited that it must be dealt with in a separate chapter.
7 For a minor but very revealing illuitration of the changing cultural atmosphere
compare the grandly proportioned case of the buffet of the St Gervais organ, which dates from the great age of Louis XIV, with the more graciously elegant case of the Versailles organ, which is the work of Robert de Cotte. See Plates VIII and IX.
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Chapter Four
Music, the Court, and the Theatre
On trouve dans ses récits, dans ses airs, dans ses Choeurs, et dans toutes ses Simphonies, un caractěre juste et vrai, une varieté merveilleuse, une melodie et une harmonie qui enchantent, et il mérite avec raison le titre de Prince des Musiciens Francois, étant regardé comme l'inventeur de cette belle et grande Musique Francoise.
titon du tillet (of Lully)
So far we have tried to give some account of the values and the taste of the society into which Couperin was born, mainly through reference to the memoirs, literature, and painting of the period. The musical counterparts of these fluctuations in taste will be discussed in detail when, in Part II of this book, we examine the various branches of Couperin's musical activity. There is, however, one aspect of court music—the ballet and opera—which Couperin did not touch upon, but which none the less influenced profoundly both his sensibility and his technique. In this chapter we shall therefore give some general account of the rise of a courdy musical-theatrical art in France during the grand Steele, and suggest some reasons why Couperin did not make any specific contributions to the theatrical genre, even though the whole temper and character of his work is impregnated with the Lullian spirit.
In order to understand French theatrical music in the seventeenth century it is necessary to consider briefly the relations between French and Italian culture during the period and, to a lesser degree, during the preceding century. There is nothing surprising in the fact that Italy should have evolved a sophisticated secular art, founded on aristocratic patronage, earlier than any other European culture. The breakdown of the social and economic framework of the Middle Ages occurred in Italy sooner than elsewhere; indeed the fifteenth
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and even the fourteenth century are often referred to as the 'Italian renaissance', rather than as the end of the Middle Ages. And although Burckhardt's tendency to attribute everything vital in the Middle Ages to a premature renaissance is to be deprecated, it is true that the brilliant fifteenth-century Florentine culture in some ways anticipates developments normally associated with the next century. It demonstrates that, while the church had always provided opportunities for spectacle of a ritualistic order, a relatively unstable economy is apt to encourage a heightened humanism, to give a vigorous impetus to the instinct for rhetoric and dramatization. In the Florentine cities, as later in Elizabethan England, feudalism was dying and a national, commercial outlook was becoming more obtrusive. Both because man's economic position was more precarious, and because his relation to a universal Order was less clearly defined, the claims of the individual seemed more important, and the relation between the individual and the community more complex. This heightened personal and social consciousness found expression in a great outburst of pageantry and spectacle; we may note that it was the guild movements that brought pageantry out of the aegis of the church. This pageantry in turn gave a fillip to the theatrical aspects of the arts attendant on it. It is no accident that it was in Italy, which already had so long a tradition of spectacle and theatre, that the tremendous humanistic passion of the chromatic madrigal and of early baroque opera was first manifested.
When the musical-spectacular dramatic art of the Italian renaissance spread to France in the sixteenth century, it was rapidly modified by the native French tradition. Considerably before the full flowering of Italian baroque opera, the sophisticated court society of Henry II saw in the Italian masquerades, intermedii, and balletti a type of entertainment which could be adapted to local court functions. Mascarades a grand spectacle, held in the open air on a lavish scale, and mascarades de palais, held less magnificently in a room or small garden, became the customary accompaniment to the complimentary speeches to the King and nobility which graced all court festivities.
French composers had no difficulty in providing a stream of dance movements for these entertainments. The French tradition had always been rich in dance music. The folk music is itself remarkable 60
Music, the Court, and the Theatre
for its sense of physical movement; and although men such as Josquin and Lassus exhibit in their religious polyphony a rhythmic variety no less subtle than that of Byrd or Victoria, there flourished too, all through the sixteenth century, an elegant homophonicchoral tradition which is linked to folk dance. The symmetry and precision of this secular line, from Adam de la Halle to Jannequin, to Guillaume de Costeley, gives to French folk dance a super-civilized reincarnation. The combination of melodic and rhythmic simplicity with a delicate economy of craftsmanship gives the music a quality, at once naive and sophisticated, which is not paralleled by the English madrigalists, who are either more complex and profound, or else less sophisticated, more directly in touch with a folk culture. Even some sixteenth-century French religious choral music, for instance the Psalms of Mauduit, uses a technique of homophonically built-up choral masses which almost anticipates the majesty of Lully.
Now the instrumental dance music is complementary to this elegant choral homophony. Many of the dances were published in the famous collection of Attaignant in 1557. Some were modelled on imported Italian dances, for instance the corantos, though the French soon developed their own version of the dance also. Others, such as the various types of branles, were a direct transference of folk dances, indicating that the sophisticated court culture had not yet lost contact with 'the people'. Others again, such as the pavanes and galliards, were a compromise between sophisticated and popular elements. The music, scored for strings, oboes, bassoons, and cornets a bouquins, had similar qualities to the vocal chansons; the implicit connection with a vocal tradition lent the rhythm plasticity, without any sacrifice of verve. The clarity of texture, the sharp definition of line and rhythm and orchestration, make the music still entrancing to listen to; it is entertainment music which is admirably designed for its function, and is also an enhvening of the spirit. The string parts probably included violins rather than viols, for a version of the violin more resembling the Italian lyra da hraccia than the modern violin was introduced in France as early as 1530, well before the appearance of violins in Italy. The characteristic tone colour of the instrument must have enhanced the music's vivacity and allure. The following quotation from Philibert Jambe-de-Fer, dated 1556, would seem to indicate that in the mid-sixteenth century
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the attitude of cultivated musicians to the violin was still somewhat patronizing:
Le violon est fort contraire a la viole. ... II est en forme de corps plus petit, plus plat, et beaucoup plus rude en son. . . . Nous appellons violes celles desquelles les gentilz hommes, marchantz, et autres gens de vertu passent leur temps. L'autre sorte s'appelle violon, et c'est celui duquel en use en dancerie communement et a bonne cause: car il est plus facile d'accorder pour ce que la quinte est plus douce a ouyr que n'est la quarte. Il est aussi plus facile a porter, qui est chose fort necessaire, mesme en conduisant quelques noces, ou mommerie. . . .
But by the early years of the seventeenth century violins had become the rule in court festival music, having lost much of the social stigma attached to them. That their theatrical glamour was clearly recognized is attested by the appearance in the score of Monteverdi's Orjeo (1607) of violini piccoli alia francese; and by this passage from Mersenne's Harmonie Universelle of 1636:
Et ceux qui ont entendu les 24 Violons du Roy, aduouent qu'ils n'ont jamais rien ouy de plus rauissant ou de plus puissant; de la vient que cet instrument est la plus propre de tous pour faire danser, comme Ton experi-mente dans les balets, & partout ailleurs. Or les beautez et les gentdllesses que Ton pratique dessus sont en si grand nombre que Ton le peut preTerer a tous les autres instrumens, car les coups de son archet sont par fois si rauissants, que Ton n'a point de plus grand mescontentement que d'entendre la fin, particulierement lors qu'ils sont melez des tremblemens & des flatte-mens de la main gauche. . . .
The brilliant French dance orchestras soon became famous all over Europe; some of them travelled to Germany, England, and even as far as Poland and Sweden.
The greater importance of the dance in art music was, however, only one aspect of the influence in France of the Italian renaissance. In both countries—and many Italian musicians were, in the second half of the sixteenth century, resident in France—it was felt that the figured dances of the court entertainments contained latent aesthetic possibilities which had not been adequately explored. Just as Peri and Bardi tried to combine the arts of music, dancing, painting, and poetry into an organized whole, in a manner which they imagined to be a marriage of modern civilization with the principles of classical antiquity, so, in France, Ronsard and the poets of the Pleiade group collaborated with the musicians to work out similar theories. From the start, the Italians had the drama in mind; the French, to 62
Music, the Court, and the Theatre
begin with, were content to insist on the interdependence of music and poetry. Music was to be 'lasceur puisnee de la poesie'. Without it, poetry is 'presque sans grace, comme la musique sans la melodie des vers, inanimee et sans vie'. (Ronsard.)
The first product of this, experiment was the airs de com for solo voice and lute. A more detailed account of these will be given in the chapter on Couperin's secular vocal music. Here it is only necessary to say that, unlike the finest songs of the English Dowland, these airs have lute parts which were increasingly divested of polyphonic elaboration and reduced to a series of continuo-like chords. Le Roy interestingly contrasted the airs de cour with the chansons of Roland de Lassus, 'lesquelles sont difficiles et ardues'. In England, this desire for the simple and tuneful develops very much later.
It is hardly just, however, to suggest that the early airs de cour were lacking in subtlety. If they had a less delicate balance between melodic and harmonic elements than the English ayres, they were no less subde in the way in which the extraordinarily free rhythm of the solo line reflected the slightest nuance of the text. Jodelle said ' Meme l'air des beaux chants inspires dans les vers / Est, comme en un beau corps, une belle ame infuse'. In the hands of a great man such as Claude Le Jeune, who is also a superb contrapuntist in his church music, these songs may achieve a limpid beauty which is a fitting complement to the poetry of Ronsard that Le Jeune so fre-quendy set. Occasionally, through the introduction of the intense chromaticisms of the Italian arioso technique, the songs may rise to a considerable passion. Normally, however, such humanistic drama was left to the Italians; the effect of the airs de cour as a whole—we may take Du Caurroy rather than Le Jeune as typical—is of a witty entertainment of the spirit, or of a gendy nostalgic melancholy that is somewhat emasculating. Mersenne, writing during the height of the fashion, summed up adequately both the airs' virtues and their limitations:
II faut avouer que les accents de la passion manquent le plus souvent aux airs francais parce que nos chants se contentent de chatouifier l'oreille et de plaire par les mignardises sans se soucier d'exciter les passions de leurs auditeurs.
Nothing could be further removed, both in intention and effect, from the Italian arioso at its best.
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The French tradition of courtly theatre music developed through the mingling of these airs de cour with the instrumental dances discussed previously. In 1571 the poet Antoine de Baif and the musician Thibault de Courville founded under royal patronage the Académie Baif de Musique et de Poésie, to practise and propagate the new theories about music and prosody, to combine music and poetry with the dance by creating ballets based on Greek metres, and to circulate ideas among performers and audience. (There was often no sharp distinction between the two.) L'entreprise
D'un ballet que dressions, dont la demarche est mise Selon que va marchant pas a pas la chanson Et le parler suivi d'une proprefacon was, with its insistence on Greek metres, perhaps a rather coldly academic prescription, but it was not rigidly adhered to. By the time the work of the Académie was interrupted by the Wars of Religion, it had impregnated French culture so deeply that its influence was felt for the next hundred and fifty years.
In 1581 Charles IX commissioned Ronsard, Baif, and Le Jeune to produce mascarades to celebrate the marriage of the Due de Joyeuse and Mile de Vaudemont. Stung to emulation, Catharine de Medici ordered Balthazar de Beaujoyeulx to arrange an even grander affair, and although the King had already obtained the most distinguished artists, Beaujoyeulx compensated for the lack of glamorous 'names' in his production, by an element of novelty. He created Circé, ballet comique de la reine, which although not in any way profound, for the first time made a conscious attempt to link dance, music, and spectacle into a coherent whole through the introduction of a slender story. 'Je puis dire avoir contenté en un corps bien propor-tionné ľceil, ľoreille, et ľentendemenť. Circé immediately created a furore. The ballet comique superseded the casual mascarade as the recognized entertainment for all big court festivities; even the smaller mascarades de palais were influenced by it, introducing more developed literary and musical elements.
The history of the French ballet through the seventeenth century is described in detail in Pruniéres's fascinating book on the subject, to which the reader is referred. Briefly, the ballet fluctuated between a literary and musical approach, the element of the dance remaining 64
Music, the Court, and thb Theatre
constant throughout. During the early years of the century, the presence of Rinuccini and Caccini at the French court encouraged a development of the musical elements; with the production of the Ballet d'Alcine in 1610 the dramatically inclined ballet comique reasserted itself. A new form, embracing dance, song, spectacle, pantomime and gesture, was created, and flourished from 1610 to 1621, when the Constable de Luynes, who had been in charge of it, died. Pruniéres refers to this type as the ballet mélodramatique. De Luynes's successor as master of the revels, the Due de Nemours, had a partiality for the grotesque ballet mascarade; and the classical form of the ballet de cour was the offspring of a liaison between the ballet mélodramatique and the ballet mascarade.
The classical ballet was usually in five sections, each divided into several subsections. It opened with the dedicatory chorus to the King and court ladies, which was followed by a number of entries with characteristic dances, often of a grotesque nature. Then came the entry of quaintly masked musicians with lutes and viols to play instrumental interludes and to accompany the recitative and airs. Next came the climax with the entry of the King and nobles, masked; and the ballet concluded with a general dance and chorus. The songs included airs de cour, and vaudevilles or adaptations, some satirical, some amorous and pastoral, of popular songs and carols; another indication of the popular affiliations of this esoteric art. The one new element was the recitative, and this was a natural evolution from the freer type of air de cour, from which it differed only in being more consistently narrative and declamatory. One cannot say that this recitative is in the least dramatic; rather flat and characterless, it hardly attempts to solve the difficult problem of the relation between speech and lyrical song. But at least it was a step towards the opera; it was something that Lully could start from.
Musically, the most interesting section of the ballets would seem to be the entrees de luth which preserved some connection with the old polyphonic technique. They are not brisk like the conventional fanfares, but emotional and melancholy, dreamy and relaxed, obviously related to the elegiac tone of the lutenist music of the salons and ruelles. The other instrumental sections were not much more distinguished than the vocal parts—the recitative, solo airs, and choruses. Before Lully, the overtures do not extend beyond a few e 65
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
conventionally imposing gestures; and the dances appear to have been less rhythmically alert than those of the sixteenth century. Prunieres warns us, however, that we have imperfect evidence as to the nature of the original ballet scores. Comparison of Philidor's early eighteenth-century transcriptions with the few examples which have survived in contemporary transcriptions for the lute, indicates that Philidor has emasculated the dances. In any case they must have been, in their original orchestration, a bright and colourful addition to the spectacle.
The dances made animated play with decorative and descriptive details; soldiers, battles, cock-crows and other bird-calls, 'national' dances, the more oudandish the better, were especially favoured. Ornamentation and the French dotted rhythm (which was not an invention of Lully), were employed to give vigour and point to physical gestures. Moreover, a case can be made out that the French were justified in putting the stress on the dance rather than the drama in creating a musical-theatrical art, because music and dancing are natural allies which move at the same speed. Music, on the other hand, is bound to take longer than poetry to make its emotional effect, and thereby produces a tricky technical problem which few opera composers have adequately solved. However this may be, the architectural quality of the French ballet de cour made an immense impression on foreign artists. It greatly influenced the later masques of Ben Jonson. Rinuccini studied it in detail, and determined to introduce it into his own country on his return; Monteverdi's magnificent Ballo delle Ingrate is one of the fruits of the French influence. If the French theatre music had originally sprung from Italian sources, it had certainly developed a character of its own which the Italians, among other European musicians, were eager to emulate.
During the early years of the seventeenth century the ballet had one composer of genius, Pierre Guedron. His dances have unusual virility, and his airs de cour a genuine pathos and dramatic power. One cannot say, however, that Guedron is the representative composer of the ballet of the grand siecle. It is his successor Antoine Boesset who, as the most fashionable ballet composer, was universally honoured and feted; whose work was studied by Heinrich Albert, one of the leading German composers for the solo voice, and, according to St Evremond, by no less a person that Luigi Rossi, the 66
Music, the Court, and the Thbatre
Italian opera composer esteemed in France above all others. Boesset is a real composer, with a personal melodic gift, but he lacks—and would not, one imagines, have desired—Guedron's tautness and sinew. He is a 'genie de la musique douce', writing music that is sweetly mellifluous and often subtle. But the soft fluidity of his rhythms and the elaborations of his ornamentation get increasingly out of touch with the prosody they had originally been designed to illustrate. They are indulged in for their own sake, and become in the long run wearisome and enervating. By the time of the Roi Soleil the ballet appeared to be in decline. What was needed to weld its constituents into a musico-dramatic convention of classical maturity was an artist of commanding authority. He came in the person of Jean-Baptiste Lully.
Lully was, interestingly enough, himself an Italian, and the son of a miller. Born in Florence in 1632, he was brought up in the humanistic traditions of Italian music. At the age of fourteen he came to France as garcon de chambre and unofficial instructor in Italian to Mile d'Orleans; by the time he was twenty his precocious musical gifts and headstrong temperament had carried him into the court ballet, where he excelled both as dancer and musician. He acquired a thorough grounding in the French traditions of composition from two men of the old school, Roberday and Gigault, and was himself soon composing, with equal fluency, ballet music in the French style, and Italian airs in the manner of Rossi and Carissimi. A brilliant fiddler, Lully had little use for the famous Vingt-quatre Violons du Roi; indeed of them he 'faisait si peu de cas qu'il les traitait de maitres aliborons et de maitres ignorants', in particular protesting against their habit of introducing unauthorized ornamentation into their parts. Lully's appeal for naturalness and simplicity applied of course to his vocal writing as well as to his instrumental. Lecerf de la Vieville reports him as saying: 'Point de broderie; mon recitatif n'est fait que pour parler, je veux qu'il soit tout uni.' It is worth noting that Lully's first appeals for dignity and lucidity in performance and composition correspond in date with Boileau's attack upon the excesses of preciosite.
That Lully's personality had remarkable power is indicated by the fact that the King listened to his complaints even though, at the time, Lully was not a person of much consequence. Louis put him 'a
«S7
Francois Couperin: Life and Times
la tSte d'une bande de violons qu'il peut conduire a sa fantaisie'. Lully soon proved that the King's confidence in him was not misplaced; according to Lecerf de la Vieville, the new band, called Les Petits Violons, 'en peu de temps surpassa la fameuse bande des Vingt-Quatre'. Lully introduced many improvements into string technique, mostly for the purpose of achieving greater brilliance and more incisive rhythm. There can be no doubt that his experience of playing string music as an accompaniment to paysical movement was of great value to him in his subsequent career as a theatre composer.
When Lully, with his Italian background, first came to France, Italian music, and in particular the opera, was in vogue among the French intelligentsia, largely because of Mazarin's insatiable passion for it. Mazarin's vindication was that he 'ne faisoit pas ces choses tant pour le public que pour le divertissement de leurs Majestes et pour le sien, et qu'ils aymoient mieux les vers et la musique italienne que la francaise'. (Perrin). It was at his invitation that Luigi Rossi and Carlo Caproli spent long periods in France, and through his efforts that in the sixteen forties Rossi's opera Orfeo was given a sumptuous Parisian production. It enjoyed a considerable succes d'estime, or possibly succes de scandale, among the dilettanti; and undoubtedly the aristocratic refinement and hyper-subdety of both Rossi's and Caproli's music must have appealed to an audience which admired the sophistications of the lute music and the airs de cour. But it cannot be said that the perfervid Italians made any lasting impression on the French temperament. If the French liked the Italians' emotional subtleties, they distrusted their violence; the dolorous intensity of Rossi's music, its vehement chromaticisms, were admired less than its languishing elegance. On the whole the Italian musicians were regarded with suspicion. After Mazarin's death it was inevitable that the Italian influence should decline.
The much heralded visit of the great Cavalli in the sixteen sixties was thus somewhat of an anti-climax. His opera Serse passed, musically speaking, almost unnoticed, and when, a little later, his L'Ercole Atnante was produced, it was the additional ballets written by Lully that aroused all the enthusiasm. Not unnaturally Cavalli was piqued that a composer of international celebrity such as himself should be ousted by a composer of pleasant dances—which were almost all 68
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Lully had to his credit at that date. He returned to Italy, leaving Lully in full musical possession of the country of his adoption. But although opposition to things Italian was temporarily so strong that Cavalli's music was not generally appreciated, Lully himself was not slow to recognize its virtues. He was aware that, though the French might not know it, there were things in Cavalli's theatre music that the French tradition could use to its own advantage.
For while Cavalli could employ a passionate Italian chromaticism when he wanted, as in the famous lament from Egisto, the general tendency of his work was towards balanced periods founded on the integration of melody and bass, and simple diatonic harmony of the type that reaches its culmination in Handel. Rossi and Caproli were transitional composers in the sense that their dramatic harmonic audacities and sensuous glamour still have contact with the polyphonic methods of the past. Cavalli differentiates much more sharply between his supple but highly stylized declamation, and his formal arias. He has not Rossi's baroque imaginativeness, but he has dramatic power combined with a sense of architectural order and of the alternation of mood. Cavalli deliberately avoids the subtle harmonic effects of false relation and appoggiatura that Rossi delighted in; avoids, too, Rossi's contrapuntal complexities in choral and instrumental part-writing. He aims at a broad effect; and this was just what Lully wanted if he was to establish a criterion of order in music, as Boileau established it in poetic technique; if he was to discipline the floridity o£precieux line and harmony, as Mansart regulated and stabilized the proportions of baroque architecture. After the production ofL'Ercole Amante all Lully's ballets show an expansion of the traditional French technique (which he had helped to formulate with his Ballet de la Nuit of 1653) by means of the sense of harmonic proportion he had learned from the Italians, and from Cavalli in particular. This debt remains, even though Lully, having thrown in his lot with the French cause, came bitterly to resent any Italian interference.
To the traditional French methods Lully added, at the start, little that was new. But he gave the ceremonial dances and corteges on the classical model a more organic unity with one another, and a more intrinsic elegance and zest. Early on he showed a clear understanding of the tonal principles on which a convincing homophonic
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architecture was to depend; and he developed the ground-bass technique of the chaconne, that most primitive expansion of a symmetrical figure through the simple process of repetition, into a medium capable of an intense emotional expressiveness, exploiting the possibility of tension between the regularly repeated bass and the varied groupings of the melodies above it. This development of the chaconne is an example of how the seventeenth-century composer turned to his advantage a practical necessity—namely, the repetition of the symmetrical ballet tune as long as the dancers wished to go on dancing. The somewhat later development of the rondeau with couplets is a further example, as we shall see, of a technique of expediency turned to an expressive purpose. Both techniques are a compromise between a dance music for practical use and the melodically generative technique of the sixteenth century. Though the rhythmic conception is now more accentual, there is still a link between the chaconne and rondeau technique of Lully and Couperin respectively, and, for instance, the variation technique of the Tudor virginalists.
Important as was Lully's work in developing the dance element in the ballet, still more significant is his transformation into the theatrical overture of the formal introductory fanfares heralding the arrival of the maskers. This reconciles all the transitional elements of the technique of composition which were then current. The slow majestic opening harks back to the polyphony and false relations of the instrumental fantasia, the bouncing dotted rhythms and the ornamentation deriving from Lully's knowledge of the physical movements of the ballet, acquired when directing Les Petits Violons; while the quick fugal section is a compromise between polyphonic procedure and the regular rhythms and simple harmonies of the dance. If the Lullian overture is a transitional technique, it is none the less mature. It is not surprising that its influence spread far beyond the confines of the French court.
In addition to his expansion of the symphonic aspects of the ballet, Lully developed the vocal elements. His interest in vocal music was considerably encouraged when, in 1664, he entered into collaboration with Moliere and produced a long series of comedies-ballets, Le Manage Force, La Princesse d'Elide, L'Amour Medecin, Le Sicilien, Le Ballet des Muses, Le Grotte de Versailles, George Dandin, Les Amans Magnifiques, Monsieur de Pourceaugnac, Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, 70
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and, to complete the cycle, Psyche, in collaboration with Pierre Corneille. In all these, care is taken to relate the musical interludes to the action. Some of them, La Princesse d'Elide, Les Amans Magnifiques, Psychi, were heroic works in the grand style, with considerable choral passages, treated vertically in massive homophony, and with elaborate stage machinery; they were almost grand operas, but for the absence of dramatic recitative. The lighter works, on the other hand, Le Manage Force, L'Amour Medecin, Le Bourgeois Gentil-homme and Pourceaugnac, led on to the French comic opera. Here, in the dance movements we find a crispness and bubbling zest which is enhanced by the scrupulously clean orchestration, a vein of exquisite pastoral elegance (Le Sicilien is the loveliest example) and a lyrical idiom sensitively moulded to the inflections of the French language. The line is unbroken from Pourceaugnac to Chabrier's Le Roi MalgreLui. Moreover, in Le Grotte de Versailles, George Dandin, and Les Amans Magnifiques, Lully has gone far towards creating a recitative as well as a lyrical style which is a musical incarnation of the French language. All these bergeries and comedies-ballets are full of intimations of the later operas. The gay satirical scenes of Pourceaugnac and Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme, with their extravagant local colour, their serenades, drinking-songs and descriptive details, are already the creation of a mature comic genius which M. Prunieres relates to Rossini. In Les Amans Magnifiques, the sommeil of Caliste and the scene of the Jeux Pithiens, with its ceremonial dialogues between choir and resplendent orchestra of trumpets, flutes, oboes, strings, and percussion, give a foretaste of some of the most impressive moments of Cadmus and Thesee.
The creation of ballets comiques continued from 1664 to 1671, the date of Psyche. In the following year, after complicated and unscrupulous legal negotiations, Lully obtained an exclusive privilege of founding an Academie Royale de Musique. As a result of this, he established a school of opera centred at the Palais Royal, and between 1673 and 1686 produced his famous series of operas, twelve of them in collaboration with Quinault, three with Campistron and Thomas Corneille, the brother of Pierre. If Lully had been fortunate in having the wit and urbanity of Moliere at his disposal for his ballets comiques, he was hardly less fortunate in having for his tragic operas the services of a poet who, though not a genius, had habitual
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Francois Couperin: Life and Times
distinction and good taste. We have already referred to the rewarding collaboration between artists in different media, as being indicative of the cultural unity and vitality of Versailles; in this case the collaboration appears to have been especially intimate, for Quinault was much influenced by Lully's ideas and allowed the composer a considerable share in the shaping of the librettos.8 The plan of the operas was highly stylized. After the overture, a more spacious version of the ballet overture already described, came the prologue with complimentary speeches to the King and allusions to the latest victories, followed by choruses and dances of patriotic intent. All this was a direct survival from the masque. Then followed the tragedy, usually concerned with sexual passion, and involving supernatural agencies which provided opportunities for complicated stage mechanism.
The centre of interest, the unfolding of the story, lies in the recitative; this is the principal difference from the ballets. This recitative is far from the perfunctory declamation of the old ceremonial addresses. Lully modelled it with the greatest care, studying the inflections of the great Racinian tragedians such as La Champmesle, trying to create a line which should be scrupulously attentive to the effect of the spoken word, while at the same time having sufficient musical interest to stand on its own feet. There is a good deal of evidence, as Romain Rolland has shown, that Racine's own notion of declamation was close to song: leaps in pitch as great as an octave were encouraged in the more passionate passages. It is probable, therefore, that Lully's recitative reflects fairly accurately the contour of Racine's declamation. The latter was closer to song than are our notions of declamation, whereas Lully's recitative was closer to speech than our, or at least nineteenth-century, recitative. If today Lully's recitative sounds dull, it is usually because it is sung too stolidly and formally. It should have the flexibility of animated, if always elegant, conversation; contemporary opinion insists repeatedly not only on its majesty, but on its liveliness and naturalness. If Lully studied the tragedians as a model for his recitative, it is equally true that they in their turn studied his recitative as a model for their declamation. It may have been the decay of this relation
8 A most interesting account of Lully's method of work and of his association with Quinault is given in Bonnet's Histoire de la Musique, vol. iii, p. 95 etseq. (1725 edition.)
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between the dramatic and operatic traditions that led to the widespread misunderstanding of Lully's idiom.
Though never, like that of the Italians, dramatically violent, Lully's line attains a convincing Cavalli-like balance between melodic interest and harmonic elements, exemplified for instance in the line's use of diminished fifths and sevenths. Since the French language perhaps does not naturally lend itself to musical expression, Lully's achievement was, even on purely technical grounds, of no mean order; but what is most remarkable is the range of emotional expression he compasses within his restrained utterance. The use of melodic intervals is carefully graded according to the intensity of the emotion to be expressed; but the fact that the idiom is stylized, as are the values of Lully's civilization, does not mean that it is insincere. As he matures, Lully tends to make his recitative more lyrical without sacrificing its fluidity, while he tends to submerge his arias in the recitative. In the last operas he almost discards the late baroque differentiation between aria, arioso, and recitative in favour of the early baroque's continuous arioso which absorbs into itself both recitative and lyrical song. The arias now give the impression of being merely the overflow of the recitative's more passionate moments. They are infrequent—not more than two or three marking the high points of the opera; when they do occur, they are sometimes derived from the air de com (and therefore still fairly close to speech), sometimes brief strophic melodies with refrain. In no case are they allowed to assume a self-subsistent importance or to interrupt the flow of the voice's intimate relation to the poetry and the orchestra.
The orchestra on the other hand is given a more independent function. The stylized action offers plenty of opportunities for the introduction oibergeries, dances, and interludes, treated in an expansive style by both chorus and orchestra. The vocal and symphonic elements are clearly differentiated in the early operas; through the succession of Alceste (1674), Thesee (1675), Atys (1676), and Isis (1677) we can observe that the recitative acquires a more lyrical swell and continuity, while the symphonic elements are more closely linked to the recitative.
With the great operas of the last years of the Lully-Quinault collaboration, Proserpine, Persee, Phaeton, Amadis, Roland, and Armide,
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the French classical tradition comes musically to fruition. The heroic parts of the central characters are not only more lyrically rich, but roles of some psychological power. Moreover, while formal ballets, bergeries and marches in the line of the ballet de cour are still introduced these symphonic elements begin, too, to acquire psychological significance—to have bearing on the dramatic situations, on the desires and fears, joys and despairs, of the characters. Lully now frequently employs recitative accompanied by the orchestra, making the instruments underline the emotional implications of the scene; the battle pieces, thunder-storms and the like become less decora-tively descriptive, more descriptive of 'states of mind'. In particular, the sommeil scenes in Artnide, Roland, and Amadis, with their vague, vaporous murmur of muted violins, are almost impressionistic in effect, though the texture and structure remain meticulously clear and the effect does not depend on the confusion of line and timbre, as does late nineteenth-century impressionism.
The combination, in passages such as these, of grand symmetrical architecture in the symphonies, with intimacy in the inflections of the vocal line and the harmony of the inner parts, suggests some analogy with the gardens of Le Notre. For the broad, clear horizons of Le Notre's gardens are planned with geometrical precision, while within that lucid framework the detail is of extraordinary complexity; the total impression owes something to both the lucidity and the elaboration. A similar but still more significant analogy may be established between Lully's music and the painting of Poussin and Claude. Poussin, of course, died in 1665, before the great days of Louis XIV, and both he and Claude spent most of their careers in Rome—another instance of the relations between French and Italian culture in the seventeenth century. But we can regard them as more imbued with the Racinian spirit than the conventional court painters like Lebrun, who see only the surface grandeur; and Poussin at least was much admired at Versailles—Le Notre had a fine collection. Just as Lully groups his periods with ceremonial equilibrium, so the architectural proportions, the relations of part to part, in Poussin's classical mythology and Claude's landscapes, are calculated with mathematical exactitude. On the other hand, the quality of the colour has sensuousness and translucency, just as has Lully's harmony in such things as the scenes de sommeil. But these colours are placed in 74
Gardens of the Due d'Orleans
Music, the Court, and thb Theatre
balanced groups, put on smoothly, with no gradations, no impressionist flowing of one shade into another; the colours, even the sharply defined shadows, are part of the architecture. We remember Louis Testelin's remark which became one of the key-phrases of the period—'Le dessin est intellectuel, tandis que la couleur nest que sensible'; and Poussin's statement of principle, which stands as an epitome of the ideals of the grand Steele: 'Mon naturel me contraint de chercher les choses bien ordonnees, fuyant la confusion qui m'est aussi contraire et ennemie comme est la lumiere des obscures tenebres.'
Exactly comparable with Poussin's architectural use of colour is Lully's use of the sensuous colour of his harmonies and orchestration. These elements he employs not in the intentionally blurred manner of the nineteenth-century orchestra, but in clearly defined groups, as part of his tonal architecture. The effervescent and resilient orchestration of Lully or La Lande—consider for instance the latter's Symphonies des Noels or the magnificent Musique pour les Soupers du Roi of which M. Roger Desormiere has made a recording—is the polar opposite of Wagner's 'harmonizing with the orchestra'. Together with the sonorous brilliance which should characterize the chamber-music combinations of the time, it has been buried as deeply beneath the incrustations of nineteenth-century academic convention as the luminosity of Poussin and Claude was buried beneath the incrustations of begrimed varnish. The re-created classical mythology, the heroic gestures in the painting, seem to have as great a weight of traditional experience behind them as does the stylized vocabulary of the dramatic poets. If Lully's last operas were produced with a sensitive appreciation of his idiom and with adequate resources, it is possible that we should find a comparable sublimity in his heroic gestures and noble perorations. The argument which maintains that Lully's operas are impractical for modern performance because they depend on out-moded fashions, does not seem to me impressive; so do the plays of Corneille, and even Racine. A producer and audience that cannot appreciate a sense of stylization are not worth their salt. The plots of the operas, qua plots, are, like the plots of Shakespeare's drama, of little consequence; what matters is what the music, or the poetry, does to them. It is interesting that the most remarkable instrumental and colouristic development in Lully's work coincides
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with the flowering of his lyrical speech. Compared with the Italians, the lines in the last operas are still quiet and close to speech; but we can hardly deny to the composer of the famous Bois epais the command, when he wanted it, of a melodic line of distinction.
Despite its restraint the work of Lully was considered, by the contemporary opinion of Bonnet's Histoire de la Musique of 1715, to be moving enough to melt hearts and to make the very rocks groan with him; while speaking of Alceste Mme de Sevigne remarked ' On joue jeudi l'opera qui est un prodige de beaute, il y a des endroits de la musique qui ont merite des larmes. Je ne suis pas seule a ne les pouvoir soutenir, l'ame de Mme de la Fayette en est alarmee.' It is also worth noting that when the last great operas were presented in Paris at the public theatre they enjoyed a spectacular popular success; Phaeton was even called 'l'opera du peuple'.9 This certainly suggests that the court culture was not as out of touch with French life as is sometimes suggested; if it had been, it could hardly have given so triumphant a manifestation of vitality. It is precisely this zest combined with elegance that Lully expresses in his last work, Ads et Galathee, a return, after the cycle of tragic operas, to the pastoral convention. This beautiful work, the most obvious candidate for revival, unites the rhythmic exuberance and melodic allure of the early ballets with the linear subdety and architectural gravity of the late operas. It is the ripe fruit of a great civilization; and it suggests the direction in which the opera is to tend after Lully's death. In its more amiable and intimate atmosphere it is also of all Lully's works the closest to Couperin.
From the start the opera had not been without opponents. To the logical French mind, absurdities which might be tolerated in a superficial entertainment were inappropriate in a music drama which purported to be a representation of life. La Bruyere, Boileau, and St Evremond, among other celebrated people, deplored the frivolity of the spectacles, the incredibility of the recitatives. Yet in many ways, as we have seen, Lully's aesthetic was complementary to Boileau's; and in general the classical stylization vindicated itself. Marmontel's defence that 'la musique y fait le charme du merveil-
• 'Et je vous apprends, mon petit cousin, qu' Armide est l'opera des femmes; Atys l'opera du Roi; Phaeton l'opera du peuple; his l'opera des musiciens. Mais enfin revenons au recitatif. C'est prmcipalement par la que Lully est au dessus de nos autres musiciens. ..'
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leux; le merveilleux y fait la vraisemblance de la musique', seemed convincing so long as the opera dealt with themes parallel to those of the classical drama. Lully's triumph was complete; even the acid St Evremond made an exception in his favour:
Would you know what an opera is? I'll tell you, it is an odd medley of Poetry and Musick, wherein the Poet and Musician, equally confined one by the other, take a World of Pains to compose a wretched Performance. ... It remains that I give my advice in general for all Comedies where any singing is used; and that is to leave to the Poet's discretion the management of the Piece. The Musician is to follow the Poet's direction, only in my opinion, Lully is to be exempted, who knows the Passions and enters further into the Heart of man than the Authors themselves.
When the opera finally fell out of favour it was not because it was stylized but because the stylization ceased to have a purpose. In the last years of Louis's reign, lagloire was in decline, festivities were no longer officially in fashion. In the circumstances the patriotic celebrations with which the opera had always been associated were hardly in the best of taste. Mme de Maintenon encouraged Louis to regard the opera as frivolous; it became so when it no longer had the backing of the quasi-religious cult of the state.
As soon as the King had definitely thrown over the opera, the rationalist Boileau and the devout Arnauld and Bossuet came out into the open with their moral denunciations of it. Despite its generic and structural relation to the noble classical tragedy, the opera was regarded with disapproval by these men because it tended to idealize love at the expense of duty. The main theme was considered to be lubricious; while the incidental divertissements were condemned because they were frivolous and trivial. Ironically enough, when the opera decayed with the grand gofit of the Roi Soleil, it was precisely the divertissement that once more took its place. As culture became more decentralized, the divertissement became more a private party than a state function; entertainments were less sumptuous, but more exquisite. The revival of the opera-ballet, instead of the tragic opera, 'sympathise', as a contemporary writer put it, 'avec l'impatience francaise';10 the 'moral' implica-
10 Roy: Lettre sur I'opira, in La Nouvelle Bigarrure, quoted by Masson in L'Opira de Rameau.
With reference to the changing cultural atmosphere, the title of one of the entries in Campra's delightful FStes Venitiennes of 1710 seems especially significant; it is called
Le Triotnphe de la Folie sur la Raison.
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combined, in an entity which could stand by itself as 'absolute' music without reference to a theatrical framework.
Here we see the significance of the vogue for the Italian violin sonata, which was at its height when Lully's death in 1687 removed the main impediment to a renewed enthusiasm for things Italian. For the Italian sonata might be said to summarize in instrumental microcosm the technique of baroque opera. It is fitting, therefore, that our survey of the position as Couperin found it should close with this brief reference to a convention to which composers all over Europe felt obliged to pay homage. For the moment the reference must suffice. We shall have occasion to discuss the technique in detail when we come to Couperin's own experiments in the idiom. His first work, on the other hand, does not greatly depend on this 'modern' Italian technique. It is rather a tribute to his forebears, a recognition of the nature of his inheritance.
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Part Two
THE WORK
Mon naturel me contraint de chercher les choses bien ordonnes, fuyant la confusion qui m'est aussi contraire et ennemie comme est la lumiere des obscures tenebres.
poussin
La clarte' orne les pensees profondes.
vauvenargues
Polissez-le sans cesse et le repolissez: soyez-vous a vous-meme un severe critique.
boileau
f
Chapter Five
The Organ Masses
Starting just after the heyday of French classical civilization, and in his youth at least unaware of the impending collapse, Couperin can never have been in any doubt as to the kind of music he wanted to write. His first work, however, pardy owing to the circumstances in which it was written, pays a tribute to the long tradition which lay behind him by being deliberately an exercise in the manner of the past. The two organ masses were composed when Couperin was twenty-one, four years after he had become organist of St Gervais. The first of them, A 1'usage ordinaire des paroisses pour les fetes solemnelles, was presumably employed by Couperin at St Gervais; the other, Propre pour les Convents (sic) de Religieux et Religieuses, was probably written for some specific community. These works do not betray much conscious modernism; but like Purcell's string fantasias, composed at the same age, they reveal more about their creator and the society he lived in than he may have realized. Though their modernism is implicit rather than explicit, it is none the less real.
Like most of the work of the seventeenth-century organ schools, the masses were intended as music for religious ritual. Yet as far back as the early years of the century we are aware of a gradual change in instrumental church music. The supreme figures of the baroque organ school, Titelouze, Sweelinck, Frescobaldi, Bull, and Gibbons, all follow Cabezon in starting from the vocal conventions of sixteenth-century polyphony. But their use of a keyboard, and of a technique derived from the fingers, suggests harmonic and figurative developments which, despite the experiments of a Gesualdo, were beyond the scope of the human voice. Bull, Frescobaldi, and Sweelinck exhibit this passionate intensity in harmony and figuration more consistently than Gibbons or Titelouze; they are closer in spirit to the violent humanistic genius of Monteverdi. But all the
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early baroque organ composers used this technique because the impulses behind them were changing. The crowning glory of European organ music—the line stretching unbroken from the early baroque composers to Buxtehude and Bach—appeared when vocal music was forced to learn a new technique. Though they did not know it, the early organists were on the way from a religious outlook to the ethical humanism of the eighteenth century; from polyphony, to diatonic harmonic structures founded on the dance, not the voice. And beyond those harmonic structures lies the instru-, mental 'drama' of opposing key centres, and the great world of classical symphonic music.
If one compares Gibbons's string fantasias with those of Purcell which are modelled on them, one may observe a clear example of this tendency. Gibbons's harmonies are often audacious enough; but he remains sixteenth-century in approach in that he is primarily interested in the flow of his lines and regards the harmonies as a consequence, albeit not a fortuitous one, of that flow. Purcell tends to use shorter, more easily memorable, phrases so that the grouping of his themes in sequence produces a more rhetorical effect. The fourth four-part fantasia creates, through its chromaticisms, dissonant suspensions and overlapping false relations, a more directly 'personal' and dramatic effect than anything in Gibbons. It might be a lament from one of Purcell's operas; it has even been called Wagnerian! The balance between melodic and harmonic organization, characteristic of sixteenth-century polyphony, is being superseded by a preoccupation with the poignant phrase and expressive harmony per se. These harmonic elements could be given coherence only through some new type of organization, such as we discussed in general terms in the last chapter, involving the dance and the stage.
Purcell did not succeed, for reasons for which he was not personally responsible, in establishing such a system. When Couperin started work in Paris the form had already been developed in the opera of Lully. Purcell's fantasias represent the more or less unconscious emergence of impulses which the composer, during the remainder of his short life, must attempt to subdue and organize. Couperin's organ masses may start from a similar point, but they contain other elements that help us to understand why, in France, a great classical and operatic tradition survived; whereas, after Purcell, the English tradition withered. 84
The Organ Masses
Besides containing much lovely music, the two organ masses are thus a case-book demonstrating the growth of the French classical tradition. They amalgamate, without any immature experimental-ism, the many different tendencies observable in seventeenth-century French organ music. Basically, there is the austere, religious polyphonic technique of the plainsong fantasia, inherited from the great Titelouze; it was from the German Protestant complement to this tradition that J. S. Bach started. Then there are passages which use chromaticism and dissonant suspensions to convey a peculiar impression of the dissolution of the senses. This technique is more extremely employed by Gigault and Marchand, and we have already referred to its appearance in Purcell. It is significantly used by the subjective and emotional Frescobaldi to accompany the most mystical moment of the Catholic ritual, the Elevation of the Host. The greatest and most celebrated of all examples of the technique is, of course, the Crucifixus of Bach's B minor Mass.
At a further extreme from these chromatic passages there are movements showing a lively sense of physical movement, which Couperin learned from the ballet. This links up with the more naive popular type of air de cour such as the vaudevilles; as one may see more obviously in the relatively unsubtle work of Nicolas Le Begue. From the more sophisticated aspects of the air de cour, and from the clavecinists and lutenists, Couperin and the other organ composers derived a symmetrical graciousness in their melodies and some conventions of ornamentation. And over all there is a concern for the proportions of the whole which he learned from the theatre music of Lully. Most of these contributory features will be discussed in more appropriate contexts in later chapters of this book. In this estimate of Couperin's start, it is the synthesizing process that we are most interested in.
The form of the masses is simple. Since they were intended for liturgical use, any elaborate musical development would have been unsuitable. The Catholic Church in France did not allow the organ the importance it came to have in Protestant Germany; unpretentiously, it had to fill in any gaps in the service with brief comments or variations on the liturgically important plainsong motives.11
11 This convention still survived in 1770, as we may see from Dr Burney's patronizing description of a service at Notre Dame: 'Though this was so great a festival, the organ accompanied but little. The chief use of it was to play over the chant before it
85
Francois Couperin: The Work
Couperin's couplets on the Kyrie, Gloria, Offertory, Benedictus (Elevation), Sanctus, and Agnus Dei have, like those of his contemporaries, mostly lost their connection with the plainsong base; they are short pieces, headed by a phrase of the Latin text, some in the old fugal idiom, others more operatic in technique. Most of the couplets in the minor end on the dominant, suggesting their functional position as a preparation for some part of the service. We may note that Couperin and his contemporaries usually employ the term couplet for the episodes of the rondeau. The use of the term in the organ masses would seem to imply that the pieces are episodes in the liturgy. The (normally unstated) theme is the plainsong melody.
In discussing the music we shall in the main follow the catalogue of its constituent elements, given earlier in the chapter. All the real plainsong fantasias, those directly rooted in the old technique, occur in the bigger work, the Messe Solemnelle. Of course, Couperin's plainsong pieces are not monumental music like the tremendous hymns of Titelouze. Those are the culmination of a great religious age; their polyphonic embroideries around the plainsong stem attain great intensity, but even at their most baroque they remain cathedral music as much as the masses and motets of Lassus, with never a hint of theatricality. Some of the finest movements in Titelouze's ceuvre (and he seems to me one of the most profound and noble of all keyboard composers) have a pure, other-worldly suavity in the vocal contours of their lines which is almost medieval in feeling, closer to Josquin than to anything in the later sixteenth century.12 We may mention as one instance a truly celestial fantasy on
was sung, all through the Psalms. Upon enquiring of a young abbe, whom I took with me as a nomenclator, what this was called, "Cest proser" ('Tis prosing), he said. And it should seem as if our word prosing came from this dull and heavy manner of recital.' (The Present State of Music in France.)
12 From this point of view, it is interesting that Titelouze deprecated modal alteration and encouraged rhythmic freedom as a means of achieving variety. 'Quant au changement du mode, je croy qu'il faudroit plustot changer de mouvement, haster aux paroles violentes et furieuses et tarder aux tristes et pesantes, car pour le changement de mode il est défendu par les lois musicales en méme ouvrage, et le changement de mouvement est permis et a un grand effet par la varieté qu'il y apporte.' (Correspondence with Mersenne, 1622.)
Titelouze must have acquired a thorough grounding in the old style vocal polyphony of the Franco-Flemish school at the Walloon Jesuit College of St Omer, where he received his elaborate education. On the other hand he would also have become familiar with more advanced instrumental techniques. The college was much frequented by English Catholics escaping persecution, and it seems reasonably certain that Titelouze must have met Bull and Peter Phillips. 86
The Organ Masses
Ave Maris Stella, which employs a more or less continuous pedal point:
3
Trr°QtcCr
T
			
	r	rrriJ J. J	—
		b^—-J	Ml
Nowhere does he indulge in the chromaticisms and recitative-like rhapsodic passages that we find in, say, Frescobaldi's toccata elevations. It is noteworthy, however, that although Titelouze adheres always to the medieval plainsong-variation convention, and theoretically at least to the scholastic basis of the church modes, his concern for an effective keyboard technique constantly leads him into devices (chains of suspended sevenths, for instance), which give a curiously rich and 'modern' tonal impression:
j ^ j j-hi
etc
k
mm
5^
US r sUTttr
etc
1
«7
Francois Couperin: The Work
Now it is this polyphonic-harmonic aspect of Titelouze's technique which Couperin develops in a more extreme form in his plainsong pieces and fugues. The rich sequential sevenths in the last few bars of the tiny Deo Gratias that forms the epilogue to the Messe Solemnelle are a beautiful example of this; and the yearning upward lift of the diminished fourth in the little fugato motive illustrates the more 'harmonic' nature of Couperin's linear writing:
i
wm
7^
rr
E
pap
*fff sJJJ.
88
The Organ Masses
A comparable and highly impressive example of this harmonic-contrapuntal technique is contained in the four organ fugues on one subject, by d'Anglebert, with their powerful false relations, parallel sevenths, and appoggiaturas:
ft       —      J-1-r						
	p 0		—f>—	jn—°-		' e/c.
Another composer who was partial to the sequential technique was the organist of Chartres, Giles Jullien, who employed it sometimes with nobility, as in the Prelude du Premier Ton, sometimes with a rather cloying pathos:
§
Couperin, however, never loses his balance. Later, a merging of this harmonic-contrapuntal idiom with the overlapping suspensions which he learned from the Italian violin sonatas is to produce beautiful results not only in chamber music but also in church motets and elevations.
These passages represent the basis of Couperin's technique in organ music; and they are, as we have seen, half-way between polyphony and harmonic thought. We next come to the passages and movements which are ostensibly harmonic in effect, depending mainly on chromaticisms and dissonant suspensions. They are perhaps best regarded as an intensification of the basic contrapuntal-harmonic technique, since although they are not usually fugal, they are always the product of fluent part-writing. The point of departure is the same; only the harmonic impact of the passage takes the centre of the stage, ousting the linear element.
The couplet Et in Terra Pax is a fine example from the Messe
89
Francois Couperin: The Work
Solemnelle, almost identical with a passage in one of Purcell's fantasias; one chromatic chord resolves on to another until they sink to rest on a serene major third:
						
		—e- u j	r r-	rr-r		u o
		L-e-1	f r			L©—11
Still more remarkable is the whole of the Benedictus elevation from the same mass. There is nothing here which is astounding in the manner of the contemporary organist Louis Marchand, whose suspended dissonances are so elliptical as to produce an almost Tristan-esque dissolution of tonality, paradoxically violent in its emotional effect, considering that the piece is so consistendy quiet:
di-			11 j i				
	«r rr		-4—=-		r r^r		r r
\-r  v r							
V  £ J^ >»| j. j ;	«-si- ct	¥ fL					4=*=
\-r   ii" !■						r -r	r
The Oegan Masses
But Couperin's idiom is as a whole more coherent and mature. Though Couperin's dissonances are intense, there is nothing emotionally virulent in his style, as there is in the work of Marchand and Gigault, or in the earlier generation, Bull, Sweelinck, or Frescobaldi. The acridity of Couperin's dissonances is rounded off in the flow and the warm spacing of the parts. Those of Gigault are uncompromising, and at times even ferocious, as witness this coruscation of sevenths, ninths, and seconds:
Even quite unimportant composers such as Boyvin, or elegiac ones such as Dumont, occasionally have a similar muscular quality:
§ r err \	\ T r r f*' c	^-
!•> r r r 1		-o-
91
Francois Couperin: The Work
What counterbalances the emotional harmonies in Couperin's organ music is the lucid diatonicism of his melodies, which have a simplicity and freshness perhaps derived, deep down, from French folk song and its relation to the French language. The elegance of the clavecinists here meets the austere passion of the organ composers, so that the 'linked sweetness' of the double suspensions is reconcilable with the sonorous simplicity of a wonderful httle piece like the Qui tollis peccata mundi of the Messe des Convents. The poise of this—the pure yet flexible line, the clear yet fluid part-writing— gives the music a luminosity which is, if possible, a refinement on the most fragrant triple-rhythmed melodies of the lutenists and Chambonnieres. The tender strophic tune and the diatonic harmonic period appear to be related to the Italian operatic aria; yet how completely different is its mood from that of the slow airs of Handel:
				i j j r |	
			-±=		etc.
lf=d		f	-S— -Tr r		f
This music has a spring-like innocence, a premier matin du monde atmosphere which is also supremely civilized; we may compare it, perhaps, with Racine's Esther. The couplet is interesting, too, in that it shows how Couperin's voluptuous delicacy, which like Lully's is capable of a theatrical interpretation, is not irreconcilable with the religious roots of his art in sixteenth-century polyphony. Both spiritually and technically he stands between the melodically (and religiously) founded Titelouze and the harmonically (and socially) 92
The Organ Masses
centred Rameau. We shall note a more significant instance of this compromise when we examine Couperin's vocal church music.
The chromatic harmonic technique of emotional drama, in the organ pieces of Marchand no less than in the madrigals of Gesualdo, had been disruptive of the old conception of tonality rather than re-creative. It was assimilated into a coherent form of theatre music only through a preoccupation with harmonic clauses based on the symmetry of the dance such as we find principally in the works of Rameau and Handel. Couperin is neither Handelian, nor disrup-tively baroque. His methods of achieving a balance between melodic flexibility and harmonic symmetry are more mature than those of Purcell, and in some ways comparable with those of Bach.
Some couplets, particularly the trumpet pieces such as the delightful fourth couplet of the Gloria of the Messe Solemnelle, are simply symmetrical in their dance rhythm, although their lucid harmonic periods are enlivened by contrapuntal treatment. But more subde pieces, for instance the beautiful eighth couplet of the same Gloria, achieve an equilibrium between the calm fluidity of the part writing, the melancholy of the chromaticisms which the flexible parts create, and the regularity of the underlying metrical pulse. As in so much of Bach, the level flow of the rhythm and the tranquil arching of the lines 'distances' the melancholy of the chromaticisms, divests them of any subjective emotionalism which would be inapposite to a music conceived for religious ritual:
Andante
					
			-s-p-	r srr- ?	
93
Francois Couperin: The Work
In other pieces the symmetry of the pulse is counteracted by the unmetrical flow of a baroquely ornamented solo line, the ornaments playing an integral part in the line's expressiveness. (See the Bene-dictus elevation of the Messe des Convents.) In the complementary movement from the other mass, both elements, fluid chromaticisms and ornamented solo part, are combined together with a regular rhythmic pulse:
lb' 1 ,<	-=ts=t= —st*-	o =^=			8    ■ ■	
		|t=j				
1  j -			—			"&7^-"
	r					£S—-
a* -						—e-»
This method is more maturely developed in many of the greatest of Bach's choral preludes and in the finest of Couperin's later church music. Significantly the technique is less used during Couperin's most Italianate period.
The way in which these elements can be brought together to make a musical-theatrical form on a fairly extensive scale is revealed in the two Offertoires, the biggest pieces in the collections. That from the Messe Solemnelle is especially remarkable. It is modelled on the operatic overture, with a massive introduction embodying chains of harsh suspensions, rooted in vocal technique but much more aggres-94
The Organ Masses
sivc in their instrumental form; a plaintive fugal section, with piquantly dissonant entries; and a virile, contrapuntally treated gigue to conclude. This last movement uses clear dominant-tonic key relations, but its contrapuntal treatment of them is less harmonically formalized than the dance movement structure of the eighteenth-century suite. In this respect the piece as a whole is closer to the keyboard suites of say, Kuhnau, which resemble Lully's overture in that they occupy with dignity and beauty a position somewhere between fugal polyphony, operatic lyricism, and the dance. It lives without confusion in both a religious and an operatic world.
Nicolas de Grigny, the greatest of Couperin's contemporaries in the French organ school after Titelouze, shows the same compromise between religious polyphony, fluid baroque ornamentation, and clear architectural period; so does the powerful if less profound Du Mage, and the subtly refined Roberday. It is interesting that the organ composers who come out 'progressively' on the side of the new, secular, dance-like elements are musically the least satisfying. They have relinquished the old tradition without having learned how to deal adequately, in a purely instrumental form, with the new. Even a composer with a boldly experimental talent such as Marchand displays in the slow chromatic piece previously referred to, or in the richly dissonant Plein Jeu with the double-pedal part, fails on the whole to achieve a coherent idiom; while Gigault, who has a really impressive technique and a vigorous personality, makes no attempt to reach the paradoxical mingling of voluptuousness and spirituality which is the subtlest feature of the work of Couperin and de Grigny. The lesser men, such as Le Begue, can substitute for the old polyphonic craftsmanship nothing but sequences of (often very diarming) dance tunes. The final secularization of the tradition occurs in the Noels and other pieces of Claude Balbastre, which although often in two parts are unequivocally dances built on symmetrical harmonic periods, with figuration and ornamentation as appropriate to the harpsichord as it is inapposite to the organ. The lutenist school declined when the clavecin composers took over many of the essentials of lute style. The clavecinists absorbed some features of organ polyphony also, but in this case there was little direct continuity because the technique of the organ, unlike that of the lute, is fundamentally opposed to that of the clavecin. Thus
95
Francois Couperin: The Work
Couperin is the last of the French organ school and even he wrote all his work for the instrument in his early twenties.
But Couperin was a man of the future as well as of the past. It was for him to show what the dance tune could be made to yield, for him to develop his work towards a classical stability. It was with this in mind that he turned, after the composition of the organ masses, to a deliberate study of the technique of the Italian trio sonata for violins and continue
96
Chapter Six
The Two-Violin Sonatas
II faut ecouter souvent de la musique de tous les gouts. . .. Embrasser un gout national plutot qu'un autre, c'est prouver qu'on est encore bien novice dans l'art.
rameau
At the end of the seventeenth century the Italian trio sonata was accepted everywhere as the supremely fashionable musical convention. If it was 'modern', however, it was not revolutionary. There was no element in it that was altogether new; its importance lay in the fact that it provided a synthesis of tendencies which had been developing all through the century. These trends towards technical lucidity accompany, of course, the trend towards an autocratic, highly stylized order in society.
There were two types of instrumental sonata, the sonata da chiesa, and the sonata da camera. As its name suggests, the former had the closer links with the past. It was normally written for violins, lute, and organ, and comprised a slow prelude, a fugal allegro, a lyrical grave, and a more dance-like presto. All the movements inclined to imitative treatment; and the very fact that the composers favoured the two-violin medium rather than the solo violin suggests a reluctance wholly to relinquish polyphonic methods in favour of the homophonic continuo.
There are still frequent passages, in the classical Corelli as well as the more intrepid Purcell, in which the lines produce the most dramatic intensity through chromaticisms, false relations, and overlapping figurations, similar to those in the toccata technique of the brilliant Frescobaldi or Gabrieli. In general, however, the tendency which we have already noticed in the organ masses, for the polyphony to be ordered by harmonic considerations rather than itself g 97
Francois Couperin: The Work
producing the harmony, is here more explicit. The polyphonic element is represented by the solo instruments, the homophonic element by the continuo which articulates the harmonic periods not, as in the opera, in accordance with a series of events on a stage, but with a musical logic of its own. This logic graded all diatonic chords in accordance with their distance from a tonic centre, distance being measured by reference to the cycle of fifths. Certain harmonic procedures^—such as the use of chains of suspended sevenths and to a lesser degree 6 : 3 chords, or the use of the dissonant diminished seventh chord to gather tension before the resolving dominant-tonic cadence —gradually became accepted methods of defining tonality. To this definition the soloists' polyphony had to be adjusted.
Gabrieli had used a melodically generative technique whereby the initial subject grows into other themes, so that the movement often ends with five or six related motives. The sonata composers employ a basically similar technique, but seek for greater unity and cogency, usually restricting themselves to a mono- or bi-thematic treatment. It is true that they sometimes, when they use two themes, suggest a contrast of mood between them, thus remotely anticipating the development of'shape' music in the second half of the eighteenth century. They never attempt, however, to investigate the possibilities of contrasted tonalities. Even to music of the late baroque period the dramatic tonal contrasts associated with the Viennese sonata are entirely foreign. The late baroque sonata still functions by way of a continual melodic generation and expansion; it differs from the early baroque principle of division and variation mainly because the continuous expansion of the initial motive or motives is now ordered by the scheme of tonal relations based on the cycle of fifths. The growth of the figuration moves through a series of fresh starts in different keys, usually the dominant, sub-mediant, sub-dominant, super-tonic, and relative minor or major, the dominant having an importance equal with but not greater than the other keys. The structure is essentially architectural rather than dramatic.
The other type of sonata, the sonata da camera for one or two violins usually with harpsichord continuo and string bass, was not radically different from the current dance suite. This will be discussed in detail in a later chapter; here we must note that the dance movements in the sonatas showed an increasingly mature under-98
The Two-violin Sonatas
standing of the principles of tonal relationship and, as a corollary, an increasing independence of the dance itself. In achieving this independence the sonata da camera borrowed many characteristics from the sonata da chiesa, into which convention it in turn introduced a more dance-like secularity. The two types soon became but vaguely differentiated. The sonata da chiesa acquired airy dance elements and lyrical passion from the theatrical inclinations of the sonata da camera, and the latter stiffened its backbone with some of the contrapuntal vitality of the sonata da chiesa; just as baroque opera incorporated many elements of religious polyphony and was then reabsorbed into the church. By Corelli's time the two sonata conventions though still flexible had more or less setded down as follows: Sonata da chiesa; slow overture (majestic and inclined to the polyphonic), free fugal movement (canzona), slow air (usually in 3 :2 with some imitation and smooth chordal progressions), and finally a fugued dance. Sonata da camera; slow overture, canzona or allemande or coranto (the dance, particularly if an allemande, mclining to contrapuntal treatment), slow air or sarabande, quick dance (often a gigue, and often quasi-fugal). In his works for solo violin Bach applies the term sonata only to the sonata da chiesa; the da camera sonatas he describes as partitas. His solo violin works thus offer a neat illustration of the difference between the two types.
As the two kinds of sonata merge into one another, one sees that the sonata owes its historical importance to the fact that it mates the technique of voice and dance. The violin can do things which the voice cannot, yet it is not anti-vocal in conception. The violin line modifies the traditional vocal phrases by the introduction of intervals, such as the diminished seventh or augmented fourth, which have a high degree of tension and passion; but it does not deny vocal principles. All the contemporary commentators refer to the cantabile character of Corelh's playing; Martinelli points out in his Lettre familiari e critiche of 1758 that Corelli's unenterprising partiality for the middle register of his instrument was due to his desire to preserve a singing sweetness and naturalness of tone. He wanted his violin to sound like someone singing with ease and purity; the very high and very low registers of the instrument were used only rarely and for some special effect, as an opera composer might, in exceptional circumstances, demand from his singers a shriek or a growl.
99
Francois Couperin: The Work
One might almost say that during the later baroque period the violin became the moulding influence on operatic vocal line itself. In the operatic arias and the bel-canto-like slow movements of the violin sonatas, the ornaments with which violinist and virtuoso singer embellish their lines both counteract the rigidity of the harmonic periods and help to build up the climax in the line itself; there is a beautiful example in the largo of Handel's D major sonata.
Only gradually did the violin composers overcome a deep-rooted distrust of the simple symmetrical 'tune', which had for so long been regarded as unworthy of inclusion in a serious composition. But even in fugal movements a more dance-like symmetry becomes noticeable. Fugal entries increasingly concentrate on a simple metrical motive with clear harmonic implications, and there is a leaning towards the' thematic development' of a pithy phrase in place of the technique of lyrical growth. This procedure may have been suggested by the operatic splitting up of words for dramatic effect. On the other hand, the violin composers of Corelli's school do not approach the harmonically systematized fugue of the middle eighteenth century. Their fugal subjects are 'harmonic' in character, but their method of treating the subjects preserves much of the seventeenth-century freedom. Perhaps one might say that there is about an equal proportion of old-fashioned, quasi-vocal fugues 'instrumentalized', and of bright symmetrical dances 'fugued'.
Formally, as we have seen, the sonatas usually start from the old method of melodic generation and expansion. The influence of the dance, however, leads to frequent phrase-groupings in sequence, to repetitions of phrases in related keys, and, still more important, to a repetition of material at the ends of the sections. From this point of view there is an interesting development in the dance forms. The majority are in binary structure, state their melodic material and develop it with contrapuntal passage-work to a close in or 'on' the dominant, thus concluding the first section. The second section repeats the material in the same order, only starting from the dominant and working back to the tonic. On the other hand, a later type of dance movement, much favoured by Domenico Scarlatti, has a similar first section, then a section of development or mild contrast in related keys, then a restatement of the original material in the original key at the end. This is a remote anticipation ioo
The Two-violin Sonatas
of the 'inveterately dramatic' sonata form of Haydn and Mozart. In both Bach and Couperin the more archaic convention still holds its own with the new. This latter type of ternary structure should not be confused with ternary da capo form, which has a first section ending in the tonic, middle section of development in related keys, and restatement of the original material in the original key. The conclusion of the first section in the tonic deprives the da capo form of any sense of progression, and makes it more suitable for reflective and meditative, than for dramatic, expression; many of Bach's arias in the cantatas are a case in point. The sonatas have a few movements constructed on this relatively static principle, but they are not frequent.
The technique of the violin sonata is usually associated with the name of Corelli, though he did not 'invent' it—it was rather an autonomous growth. Fine sonatas of the da chiesa type by Marini and Mezzaferratta, and by composers of other nationalities such as Biber and Rosenmiiller, had appeared some years before Corelli's famous volumes. It is perhaps pertinent to mention the extremely beautiful French H.M.V. record of Rosenmuller's E minor sonata, both because the performance, with its solo violins and organ, harpsichord and string continuo, gives a convincing notion of the baroque richness of sonority which should characterize these works, and which is so pitifully misrepresented by the usual performance with piano; and because the work itself is of such superb quality. It illustrates all the features of the early baroque sonata, having a massive slow introduction, a lovely second movement which is half-way between vocal polyphony and the operatic aria, a strange, rhapsodic transitional movement derived from operatic recitative, and a fugued dance to conclude. It demonstrates clearly—with its long, finely balanced lines which at the same time do not make much use of crude repetition—the compromise which we have remarked on between the soaring polyphony of the solo lines and the homo-phony of the continuo.
If Corelli did not invent the sonata, however, there is some excuse for associating it with his name in that he did, in his scrupulously pure and polished examples, give it its classical form. His work has both lyrical ardour and incisive precision; and this union of qualities prepares the way for the great classical baroque composers whose
IOI
Francois Couperin: The Work
work for his instrument and in an idiom in part derived from him, may be said to surpass his work in sublimity and power. These composers are Vivaldi, J. S. Bach, Leclair, and the Couperin of L'Imperiale.
There were three main reasons why Corelli's sonata attained so remarkable a popularity in France. One reason, as we have seen, was that its technique could not be ignored by any European composer who wished to create a vitally 'contemporary' music. Another reason was intellectual snobbery, for even people who could not understand the implications of the sonata realized that so advanced and sophisticated a society as the French could not afford to be musically behind the times. And the third reason was that there was much in Corelli's sonatas that the French could recognize as a native product. It is hardly surprising, considering the high point to which Lully had developed the forms of theatre music, that Corelli should have made use of many facets of Lully's work in his classical sonata. Many of Corelli's gavottes and minuets have a flavour of the French theatre, and, particularly in the concerti grossi, there are movements —for instance the largo and allegro of the third concerto—which derive directly from the Lullian overture. Corelli acquired a thorough knowledge of Lully's work from the francophile Muffat, and cannot himself have approved of the animosity which was later shown by the partisans of both the French and Italian cause.13
We have seen that during the grand Steele, in France as in England, the violin had been regarded as a somewhat ribald instrument; as Peter Warlock pointed out, the attitude of cultivated musicians to the violin was similar to the attitude of such people to the saxophone today. The viol, lute, and clavecin were the instruments of polite society; the violin could be used for dance music, on festive occasions, and in operatic tutti when a considerable noise was required. But even as late as 1682 Father Menestrier referred to the violin as 'quelque peu tapageur', while six years earlier, in England, Mace had written: 'You may add to your Press a Pair of Violins to be in Readiness for any Extraordinary, Jolly and jocund Consort Occasion: But never use them, but with this Proviso'. We should remember,
13 It can, however, have been only in his late work that Corelli was conscious of the influence of Lully. We remember the well-known story of Handel's exasperation with Corelli, when the Italian performed with inadequate passion one of Handel's works; Handel is said to have snatched the fiddle out of Corelli's hands; whereupon Corelli. retorted,' Ma, caro Sassone, questa niusica b nel stilo francese, di ch'io non m'intendo.' 102
The Two-violin Sonatas
of course, that Mace was a valetudinarian in his attitude to contemporary music.
It was by way of the church that the violin became respectable in France; for an instrument that could be used to accompany the cantatas of a Carissimi was clearly worthy of serious attention. The cantata was related to the sonata da chiesa, which could also be performed in church; when once the French public had observed the dignity which Corelli could give to the instrument there was no more ground for suspicion. Then, in 1705, even Lecerf de la Vieville, the bitterest opponent of Italianism, could admit that although the violin 'n'est pas noble en France, mais enfin un homme de condition qui s'avise d'en jouer ne deroge pas'. The vogue spread with phenomenal vigour. 'Quelle joie, quelle bonne opinion de soi-meme n'a pas un homme qui connoit quelque chose au cinquieme Opera de CoreUi', complained Lecerf de le Vieville, in despair. Couperin's innocent deception in producing his early sonatas under an Italian name, as described previously, had shown which way the wind was blowing. Soon, 'cette fureur de composer des sonates a la maniere italienne' obsessed almost all French composers, and from 1700 a continuous stream of sonatas appeared, cmminating in the four volumes of the great Leclair's sonatas from 1723 to 1738, the last two violin works of Couperin in 1724 and 1725, and the noble sonatas of Mondonville in 1733.
In 1692, two years after the composition of the organ masses, Couperin wrote four sonatas in the Italian da chiesa manner. In 1695 he added two more. Nearly thirty years later, in 1724, he added to three of the original four sonatas, sets of dances or partitas in the French manner, thus producing a series of diptychs analogous to the Bach violin sonatas and partitas. He then rechristened them; (La Pucelle became La Francoise, La Visionnaire became L'Espagnole, and L'Astree became La Pietnontoise); added another double sonata called L'Imperiale, the da chiesa part of which may have been written about 1715; and published them all together under the title of Lei Nations. In these double works we can thus see the French and Italian manners placed side by side. Finally, in the two Apotheose sonatas which he composed in 1722 and 1725, we can see the two manners mated. We shall examine these works more or less in chronological order, first dealing with the Italian sonatas of 1692 and 1695, then with the partitas added to them, then with the two parts of L'Imperiale, which
103
Francois Couperin: The Work
are both manifestations of Couperin's maturity, and lastly with the two Apotheoses.
As though to emphasize its experimental nature at this stage of his career, La Steinquerque, one of the earliest of the 1692 group of sonatas, is the work that most reminds us, not only of Corelli, but also of Handel. In these sonatas Couperin is investigating some of the possibilities of the harmonic 'shape', as opposed to the melodic texture; so, whereas the organ masses had been to a considerable degree polyphonic in impetus, he here produces a work which relies mainly on the balance of spacious harmonic clauses, in which even the fugal subjects are, like so many of Handel's, built largely out of the notes of the common triad. The result is an Italianized version of Lully's battle musics, a work in the grand manner, befitting a ceremonial occasion—the piece is in honour of the victory at Steinkerque. But compared with the mature reconciliation of polyphonic and harmonic principles which we find in Couperin's later work, or in Bach, or even in the earlier organ masses, its spaciousness is achieved at the expense of subtlety. Being in some ways a ceremonial piece, and in others a technical experiment, the music lacks personality; it has few of the unmistakable Couperin touches.
Its form is a free descriptive version of the sonata da chiesa, with a strong dance influence. It opens with a vigorous overture constructed out of the martial fanfares of the introductory flourishes to the ballet; the interest centres almost entirely in the massive march of the harmonies. This is followed by a simple symmetrical air, on the model of the airs of Lully, though perhaps with a slightly Handelian solidity. A powerfully harmonized grave—musically the most interesting section of the sonata—makes extended uses of overlapping suspensions and leads to a jaunty, but not very sustained, fugue. An interlude of fanfares, impossible to perform convincingly on the piano, introduces a swinging theme in 3 : 2, fugally treated, but very harmonic in character. There is a further grave passage, and then the movement bounds in triple rhythm to a joyous close, the violins playing in consistent homophony in thirds and sixths.
The E minor sonata, finally called La Francoise, is of deeper musical interest than La Steinquerque, but it is still hardly representative of Couperin's intrinsic quality. This time it is closer to Corelli than Handel, though the opening grave displays an almost lush 'Italian' indulgence in chromaticisms, such as the classical Corelli himself did 104
The Two-violin Sonatas
not often sanction. Though short, the movement rises to a most impressive climax:
(Reduction) <
1
8^
c/c.
The atmosphere is refined, elegant, and melancolique; it has possibly something of the elegiac self-indulgence of La Rochefoucauld. The briskly contrapuntal second movement is quite elaborately developed, and makes jocular use of a little descending scale passage. Here too the atmosphere is highly charged and emotional; the brisk rhythm is counteracted by some extraordinary passages in dissolving sequential sevenths:
Violins
Continuo & Bass
m		j-,—	^7	J ! J T.j !
¥=±		— fl*		
v if "f		Hp 'if	•——	
105
Francois Couperin: The Work
If "r    r f		m*- etc. f
§ dJJ -, j j =		
ý a i i { r	1	e/c. ——
h^-^-*«p-[ Ti -1		cJ ^
The other movements are not at the same level as these two. A simple, quasi-operatic air half-way between Lully and Corelli, two measured grave interludes, and a couple of very Corellian gigues (the second of which has an agile cello part), are all beautifully made but compared with Couperin's finest work are lacking in character.
L'Espagnole sonata, in C minor, opens with a very £me grave which produces a dark sonority through frequent use of augmented intervals, and dissonant appoggiaturas and suspensions:
Violins
Continuo &
Bass
1 **■	j		
T * r r >\ X		r~j j ! ij i	
		r. r r 1	4--—-
e/c.
io6
The Two-violin Sonatas
The quick section into which the grave leads also has tension and excitement, and mounts to its B flat climax in the first-violin part, with inevitable momentum. The air in siciliano rhythm makes fascinating use of the opposition of solo voices and a quasi-tutti effect. It often uses a falling scale passage, diatonic or chromatic, in the bass, grouping above it melodic patterns, decorative figurations, and seductive harmonies of sevenths and ninths:
				
¥=^	-			
*>bL   r =			r3 ■	
			J j ..i. ■	
T =3Bft				1
TT\—1	jS^i---		sLi-L	1*-
The feeling, at once noble and pathetic, suggests the lamento of seventeenth-century baroque opera; one is reminded of Purcell, or even of the airs on a chromatic bass in Monteverdi. A merry canzona is notable for the whirling descending scale passages in the bass part, combined with chains of suspensions in the violins and continuo. A brisk, rather 'harmonic' and Handelian gigue is followed by a chromatically accompanied air, and the work concludes with a powerful double fugue on a stable, diatonic theme, with a chattering countersubject.
The opening grave of La Piemontoise sonata, in G minor, is perhaps the most Purcellian movement in Couperin's work. In this passage
107
Francois Couperin: The Work
it is not merely the chromatically moving bass, but the long arch of the lines, the habitual syncopations, the augmented fourths and diminished fifths, which remind us of Dido's lament:
Something of this operatic passion is preserved in the elaborately syncopated quick fugal movement, where the part-writing has an agility and rhythmic independence which is common in Bach, but rare in Handel or Corelli; in this respect it presages Couperin's most mature work. The next grave is in the mood of the opening, and has some acute dissonant suspensions. Here, too, the level flowing movement, the dissonances, and the sudden change to the major anticipate some of Couperin's most characteristic effects in later work. The delicate canzona is based on two instrumental figurations derived from the common triad and the major scale. Two quasi-operatic airs, one in the major, the other in the minor, are gently symmetrical and have a more personal voice than the similar movements in the other 1692 sonatas; the suspensions and ornamental resolutions in the inner parts suggest the influence of the clavecinists, and may be compared with the similar devices in the sarabande of Chambonnieres, quoted on page 198. A return to Purcellian intensity occurs in the brief grave, with its chromatic progressions and energetic marque dotted rhythm, in ascending and descending scales. 108
The Two-violin Sonatas
It leads without break into a simple Corelhan gigue, charming, but not especially significant.
The two 1695 sonatas, La Sultane and La Superbe, use the same idiom as the 1692 group, but within their deliberate Italianism they allow for a much freer expression of Couperin's sensibility. Here Couperin absorbs the Italian convention into the French tradition as consummately as Purcell adapted it to the linear and harmonic vigour of the English. La Sultane, in particular, is conceived on a grand scale, and is remarkable not only for its extensive development but also for the fact that it includes two more or less independent cello parts. It thus has four free string parts in all; the second cello sometimes, but by no means habitually, doubles the bass of the continuo.
The first grave is on a much bigger scale than any of the overtures to the earlier sonatas. It is more than twice as long, and, over a level flowing crochet pulse, imitatively develops proud, spacious themes in overlapping suspensions which reinforce the majestic progression of the harmonies. In passages such as this:
Violins
Cellos &
ContinuoJ
+
t—r
r
etc.
etc.
109
Francois Couperin: The Work
persistent suspended seconds have a sinewy power, balancing the richness of the harmonies, which we meet with for the first time in Couperin's work—for the comparable passages in the organ masses have not this linear vigour. It is the first intimation of that union of solidity with subtlety which relates Couperin's finest work more closely to Bach than to any other composer. This controlled but highly emotional prelude also includes a remarkable, dark-coloured passage for the two cellos, over long-sustained dominant and tonic pedals.
The second, quick contrapuntal, movement is thematically related to the grave and is also designed on a broad scale. It is notable for its close, Bach-like rather than Handelian, texture, both in its harmonic progressions:
Reduction
		n—h~
	r r r nj  J   | H	r elc.
" 1   1 1	—11—Hh-^	—0-
and in its linear organization:
Violin I.
Cello I. & II.
e/c.
The air tendre is a dialogue between the two cellos, dark-hued in the minor, and the two violins, softly glowing in the major. It leads no
The Two-violin Sonatas
into a grave, built on drooping appoggiaturas, wherein Couperin, for the first time in his Italianized music, recovers the quintessential Couperin of the finest movements of the organ masses. Predominantly harmonic in effect, the chains of appoggiaturas are suavely sensuous, and yet paradoxically create an unearthly feeling that the ego (le mot) and the will (la volonte) are dissolving away. Note the insistent dotted rhythm; the caressing ninth; and the augmented fifth chord which almost suggests that the tenderness of the emotion is about to break into tears:
The words of Fenelon—'C'est dans l'oubli du Moi qu'habite a paix'—are relevant to this aspect of Couperin's music. We shall discuss it in detail in the chapter on the church music, and shall then have occasion to note many examples of the technical features referred to above. The two remaining fast sections of this sonata are less personal, though the gigue has some typical harmonic acridities and rhythmic surprises. It provides, in any case, an appropriately festive note to conclude this most beautiful work.
The A major sonata, La Superbe, though this time for the normal resources, also has a certain ampleur of conception. It opens with a grave and canzona which have a maturely experienced majesty com-
iii
Francois Couperin: The Work
parable with Handel's finest work, and far removed from the more naively noble gestures of La Steinquerque. None the less, these movements are not among Couperin's most representative work. The next section, tres lentement, is, however, one of his finest inspirations, combining the superbe Handelian manner of this sonata with a subde use of false relation reminiscent of the organ masses. Through the dotted rhythm and the hushed progression of the harmonies it evokes a tremulous quietude similar to that of the grave interlude of La Sultane. The harmonies are often of a most unconventional nature—for instance, this 'sobbing' use of the diminished fifth in an interrupted cadence, followed by the melting sequence of seventh chords; the last of them produces one of those 'catches in the breath' that we have had occasion to refer to once or twice before:
The canzona and final gigue are sprighdy and well developed, but have not the closely wrought texture of Couperin's best work in this manner. The air tendre is one of the simplest and most beautiful of Couperin's pieces in the triple-timed brunete convention.
The dance suites which Couperin added to three of the 1692 sonatas in 1724 are identical in technique with his concerts royaux, published about the same time. In some ways it would thus be logical to discuss them together with the concerts, as the most central expression of the French instrumental tradition. By con-112
The Two-violin Sonatas
sidering them beside the sonatas to which they were attached, however, one can understand more clearly how the classically developed form of the French suite approximated to the binary convention of the Italian partita or sonata da camera. We shall therefore leave detailed consideration of the suite until the chapter on the concerts; and in this context we shall say on the subject only so much as is necessary to indicate the relationship between the French and Italian genres. The two-violin suites all date from the last years of Couperin's life, and may stand with Bach's cello, violin and keyboard partitas as examples of an apparently limited convention used with the maximum of imaginative significance.
As with Bach—and in conformity with tradition—the alle-mandes are, apart from the chaconnes, the most musically extended movements, and often have considerable polyphonic complexity. Couperin's more discreet sensibility does not often call for the whirling linear arabesques typical of Bach's most baroque work, as exemplified in the great allemande from the D major cello suite, or those from the D major and E minor harpsichord partitas; but there is something of Bach's disciplined melodic profusion in the treatment of the aspiring scale passage in the allemande of the first (E minor) suite. The C minor allemande is less free melodically, but more involved harmonically; it is at once richly chromatic and gravely elegiac. This quality is found, too, in the allemande of the G minor suite, perhaps the finest of the three, very subtle in its phrase groupings.
Each suite has two courantes, the first of which (the French type) carries the traditional rhythmic ambiguity of the dance to an extreme point. Couperin rivals Bach in the complexity of the alternations and combinations of 3 :2 and 6 :4 which he extracts from his material. These movements are usually highly ornamented, the ornamentation being an integral part of the line and harmony:
j-'j>J 1.1 j-
1 w h;. r
113
Francois Couperin: The Work
These rhythmic and harmonic elaborations of a simple dance structure testify to the high degree of sophistication in Couperin's community. The second courante is usually more airy and flowing, more dance-like; though Couperin does not confine himself to the 6 : 4 Italian form, and never gives the courante the straightforward harmonic treatment of Handel.
Couperin writes two types of sarabande. One (like that of the G minor suite; it is actually in the major) is tendre and cantabile in character, of exquisite refinement and fragilely ornamented, in the manner of the theme of Bach's Goldberg Variations. This type of sarabande, as we shall see in a later chapter, is a part of Couperin's legacy from Chambonnieres, who in his turn inherited it from the lutenists. The other type is grave and powerful, congested in harmony, like that of Bach's E minor partita; it often uses dissonant appoggiaturas and acciaccaturas, and employs a slow but strenuous dotted rhythm, conventionally performed with the dots doubled.
Couperin's gigues are sometimes of the amiable Italian type in a lilting 6 : 8 (that for instance from the G minor suite); sometimes of a French type in 6 : 4, more complicated rhythmically than those of Corelli or Handel. This type of gigue Couperin derives from Chambonnieres and the lutenists; he treats the dance with a tautness which is again suggestive of Bach, though his gigues are usually slight and rather frothy. They are scherzo movements, and he has no crabbed, almost ferocious gigues such as Bach writes, in a contrapuntal style, in the E minor partita. The little gavottes, bounces and minuets are not much more than occasional music, and do not call for comment in this chapter.
The crowning glories of the suites are the rondeaux and the chaconnes—both being a further development of Lully's treatment, which we have already discussed, of the ballet dances. The rondeau of the C minor suite is suavely melancholy but not especially re-114
The Two-vioiin Sonatas
markable; the rondeau in G, from the fourth suite, is on the other hand a delightful example of Couperin's sophisticated-rustic manner, producing a silvery flute-like sound through canonic overlapping and dulcet thirds:
This mode is even more beautifully expressed in the rondeau of V Imperiále, which we shall describe shordy.
In the chaconnes, the regular flow of the repeated bass (with the accent on the second beat of the traditional 3 : 4) provides a foundation over which the lines and figurations grow cumulatively more impassioned until they break into quicker movement. The opening suspensions across the bar, in the E minor chaconne, have a tone of noble melancholy; the level crochet pulse splits into quaver movement, then into a vigorous dotted rhythm with great animation in the bass part, and finally into resplendent staccato descending scale passages combined with extended trills. The chaconne of the C minor suite is an even grander work. The opening statement (noble-ment) is itself massively harmonized, with appoggiaturas suggesting an anguish almost comparable with that of the great B minor clavecin passacaille. There is an exquisite couplet for the two violins unaccompanied, in canon, and then the movement begins to build up a remorseless crescendo of excitement. A vivement couplet is founded on trumpet fanfares; the bass acquires greater animation, while the violins chant long chains of suspensions. Tentatively, the bass introduces chromatic elements, and the climax is reached in the mingling of the chromatic version of the bass with triple suspensions in the continuo and a powerful duo in double-dotted rhythm for the two violins:
"5
Francois Couperin: The Work
Violins
Bass &
Continuo
At> i  .1 -' =	r •   • • -.i i
V i j' > r	
É
F=F
v—\
The Bachian quality which we have noticed in our account of the suites finds its most consistent manifestation in the two parts of L'Imperiale, a work in which both the da chiesa and da camera sections have an equal maturity. The classical ripeness is demonstrated most clearly in the power and length of the melodic structure. The opening grave has a melodic span that one finds but seldom outside Bach's work; its amplitude of structure is combined with subdety in its linear and harmonic details:
mm		
		
7
Ii6
The Two-violin Sonatas
|;1 ' LLT				l**-J—			
|«> r v /"I 7     6     .7 ■*	' J		1   »J -: 6	*			., . j...
The contrapuntal movement that follows is fiery, with acute dissonant suspensions. The second three-time grave is agalant et magni-fique piece over a pulse in dotted rhythm. Its subsidiary chromaticisms have a dignified restraint, compared with the more fervid chromaticisms in the first two movements of the early La Francoise. This piece is in the relative major, as is the next, a gracious minuet in rondeau. A return to the triple rhythm provides a lyrical transition back to D minor, and the sonata ends with a vigorously developed fugue on this muscular subject, with its prominent tritonal sequences:
Vivement
This is music of tremendous power, even ferocity, with a Bachian closeness of texture. This one movement is sufficient to dispose of the legend of Couperin the 'exquisite'.
The sonata da camera has a deliriously tenuous gigue and a massive sarabande, but is notable chiefly for its two big movements, the rondeau and chaconne. The rondeau has a theme of a tender diatonic simplicity which, in conjunction with the level rhythm, like a quietly breathing pulse, suggests a sense of light, space, and tranquillity comparable with the emotional effect of the ordered landscapes of Claude:
117
Francois Couperin: The Work
Like so much of Couperin's finest work, this music sounds as though it was written to please, to entertain, and yet is at the same time, in its purity, a spiritual rejuvenescence. The mood of the chaconne is similar, though the piece is on a grander scale. The broken rhythm and violently contrasted sonorities of the couplet in the minor key have an unexpected dramatic force, and, as in the graver C minor chaconne, the gradual introduction of chromatic elements gives the piece a cumulative momentum:
It ends, however, in happy tranquillity.
Couperin's last word in the sonata convention is contained in the two Apotheoses, dedicated to Corelli and Lully respectively; and there is no more effective demonstration of the distance Couperin has travelled than to compare the prelude of the Corelli Apotheose of 1722 with that of La Steinquerque of 1692. In the late work there is no sacrifice of majesty in the proportions. The balance of the movements as wholes is preserved, as is the lucid sequence of tonalities which do not adventure far beyond the dominant, sub-dominant, sub-mediant, and relative major and minor. But the incidental vitality and subtlety of melodic life have increased enormously. The lines are more nervously sensitive, so the polyphony is more flexible; and, as a consequence of this flexibility, the harmony has an added 118
The Two-violin Sonatas
richness. Such a passage as this, with its eloquent augmented and diminished intervals, indicates admirably this interior vitality, which is on the one hand so much more supple than the rather beefy homo-phonic texture of La Steinquerque and is on the other hand so much more mature than the chromaticisms of La Frangoise (see next page). Something of this quality is found, too, in the fugal movement that expresses Corelli's joy at his reception on Parnassus; the tight harmonic texture is enhanced by fascinating syncopations. In such passages—we shall meet them throughout Couperin's work—the music, like the painting of Watteau, achieves a moving union of strength with sensitivity. The sensuous quality of the harmony parallels Watteau's glowing use of colour, which he in part derived from Rubens, and to a lesser degree from Titian and Veronese; the supple precision of the three string lines parallels Watteau's nervous draughtsmanship, the most distinctive quality of his genius, which he in part inherited from the Flemish and Dutch genre painters; while the stable sense of tonality in the movements as wholes corresponds to Watteau's instinct for proportion and 'composition', which was in part encouraged by his study of the noble serenity of Giorgione and the Venetians.1*
The tranquil movement describing Corelli drinking at the spring of Hypocrene is one of those quintessential Couperin pieces which, however often one hears them, strike one anew with their freshness. The material—a level quaver movement proceeding mainly by step, accompanying serene minims which form quietly dissonant suspensions^—is simple; yet the result has a spirituality which is perhaps Couperin's unique distinction. The piece is a still more rarefied distillation of the serenely 'dissolving' movements in the early La Sultane and La Superbe sonatas. It produces the same feeling of the dissolution of the ego and the will, and thus may, not altogether extravagantly, be termed 'paradisal'. In particular we should mention the modulation to A minor which comes at the end of the movement after two pages of unsullied D major. In the fluidity of the har-
11 This account of Watteau's work indicates how he reconciles the two opposing parties of the Poussinists and the Rubenists. The conflict between the two schools, led by Felibien and De Piles respectively, was not dissimilar to the quarrel between the Ancients and the Moderns. For the contending factions, Poussin stood for draughtsmanship and the classical ideal, Rubens for colour and a 'modern' sensuous-ness. Both Watteau and Couperin—and for that matter Poussin himself—showed that the two conceptions need not be opposed, but could mutuallyjenrich one another.
119
Francois Couperin: The Work
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Bass &
Continue
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120
The Two-violin Sonatas
monic transitions here, we have a reminiscence of the technique of the organ masses—the paradox of a voluptuous purity. Note for instance the heart-rending false relation in the penultimate bar, before the tender resolution on to the major third:
			.7 jip?.'---1
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r p lyy	i- r		5f trr."c5r
-rv -=r	71-~	
j —	ffg	
				
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121
Franijois Couperin: The Work
The reminiscence of the earlier technique in no way compromises the music's integrity. Couperin no longer feels it necessary, as he did in La Steinquerque, to insist on his command of the modern homophony.
Another movement in this radiant manner is the sommeil music, one of the few intrusions into this Italianate work of an element intimately associated with Lully, even though originally derived from the Italian opera. It is remarkable for its delicately intertwined figuration. The progression of the lines by conjunct motion, in even quavers with a crochet pulse, was the accepted musical stylization of the idea of repose. The two sections flanking it, describing Corelli's enthusiasm and his awakening by the Muses, have a gaily glittering texture. In the first, Corelli's happiness bubbles and swirls in rapid scale passages and florid arabesques for the violins unaccompanied; in the second, the French dotted rhythm bounces through some closely wrought modulations from D to A, to F sharp and C sharp minor. The work concludes with an elaborately developed fugue on this excitingly syncopated subject:
B Gayement_ _
This also breaks into florid passages for the violins towards the end. We are a long way from the rather perfunctory, chordally dictated fugato passages of La Steinquerque.
Despite the interpolation of descriptive movements suggested by the ballet, the structure of the Corelli Apotheose is basically that of the sonata da chiesa; or it is the Italian sonata modified by Couperin's long experience of the French tradition. In the Lully Apotheose Couperin first gives, as it were, a summing up of the tradition on which he had been nurtured; and then demonstrates how he has, through his career, managed to incorporate the Italian sonata into it The Apotheose begins with a suite of pieces which are a microcosm in instrumental form of the Lullian opera; only when Corelli appears on the scene in the second part does the sonata technique become obtrusive. Then it is not merely in such superficialities as the quaint device of making Lully and Corelli fiddle in the 'French' and 'Italian' clefs respectively that we see how dieir two idioms have merged into one another. 122
The Two-violin Sonatas
Couperin's preface explains that the work is not conceived for violins exclusively; it may be performed on two clavecins, or on various appropriate combinations of instruments. This is true to some extent of all the sonatas; but it is interesting that it should be this explicitly theatrical work which prompts Couperin to say so. The Overture (Lully in the Elysian fields) moves with grave simplicity in a regular crochet pulse, achieving a noble pathos through groupings of a falling scale passage. It is a theatre piece which is more consistendy homophonic than the Corellian da chiesa prelude usually is, but the relationship between the two types is clear enough. The airs of the ombres liriques, the Vol de Mercure, the Descente d'Apollon (contrapuntal but dance-like), and the Rumeur souteraine of Lully's contemporaries and rivals, are all chamber music versions of operatic devices. The Tendres Plaintes of Lully's contemporaries, which Couperin specifies should be performed by flutes or by violons tres adoucis, is a beautiful instance of Couperin's rarefied sensuousness, built on a faux-bourdon-like procession of 6 : 3 chords. Again it differs from the 'rarefied' movements in earlier sonatas in being entirely homophonic. The enlevement de Lully to Parnassus for the first time introduces the contrapuntal method of the Italian canzona, and makes fascinating play with a syncopated rhythm.
When Lully reaches Parnassus he is met by Corelli and the Italian muses who greet him with a largo strictly in the da chiesa manner, majestically proportioned, with acrid augmented fifths:
Violins
Continuo &
Bass
	trr     'r 1
	J          1 "1 H I
	i\ f ^J "B»^-W—(*-1-
123
Francois Couperin: The Work
mm	rri2-1		Fff=
	,--_--		
l?t>	——*^—		etc.
The Remerciement de Lulli a Apollon is a symmetrical operatic aria which illustrates the absorption of the Lullian air into the tonally more developed Italian arias of Handel; note the solid sequences and the figuration. The ornamentation remains, however, more French than Handelian:
Violini'
Coniinuo & Bass
¥
J. J
etc.
124
The Two-vioiin Sonatas
Next Apollo persuades Lully and Corelli that the union of Les Gouts francois et italiens would create musical perfection; so the two muses sing together an Essai, en forme d'ouverture, elegamment et sans lenteur. This opens with a brilliant fanfare in dotted rhythm, which is followed by a 3 :4 tune in flowing quavers, making considerable use of arpeggio figures. Then come two little airs legers for the violins without continuo; in one of them Lully plays the tune and Corelli the accompaniment, in the other the roles are reversed. And the whole work is rounded off with a full-scale sonata da chiesa, in which Lully and Corelli play together, the Italian technique being finally, as it were, translated into French.15
Musically, this sonata is the finest part of the Lully Apotheose. The grave is in the main Italian, with astringent augmented intervals and a Bachian closeness of texture. But the canzona, Saillie, is French in spirit and worthy to be put beside Couperin's best pieces in the burlesque vein. (We shall discuss this in detail in the chapter on the clavecin pieces.) The 3 :2 grave, rondement, recalls the fragrance of the Messe des Convents, though it has now a more Italian amplitude. The last movement combines a Corellian contrapuntal technique with the dotted rhythm of the French theatre, and includes some interesting modulations, such as this from G to the minor of the dominant (see next page).
Although the Lully Apotheose is one of the most important of
Couperin's works from a documentary point of view, it seems to
me musically inferior to the Corelli 4p<>(/ieW. The latter work, with
the Imperiale sonata, perhaps represents the highest level of Couperin's
achievement in this convention; and both impress by their Bachian
maturity. From this point of view, Couperin offers an interesting
comparison, and contrast, with Purcell. Both experimented in the
Italian sonata technique in the early sixteen-nineties, and for the same
reason—they knew that if their country's music was to have a future,
they had to take account of the new directions which the Italian
sonata stood for. When they started to compose their sonatas, Purcell
11 For an interesting anticipation of this mating of a 'French' and 'Italian' melody, see J. J. Fux's Concentus Musico-instrumentalis, published at Nuremburg in 1701. The seventh Partita of this work includes a movement in which an aria italiana in 6 : 8 is played simultaneously with an air francois in common time. Most of the pieces have French titles (La joye des fiddles sujets, Les ennemis confus, etc.);the Sinfonia combines a French triple rhythmed middle section with an Italianate contrapuntal opening. See Chapter xi for a general account of the French influence in Germany.
125
Francois Couperin: The Work
Violins
Continuo &
Bass
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had behind him the Tudor tradition and the seventeenth-century baroque polyphonists such as Lawes and Jenkins; Couperin had behind him the organists, the lutenists, the ballet, and the theatre music of Lully. Purcell's more direct relation to the 'inflectional' methods of the sixteenth century was in some ways an advantage, for through it he was able to create those bold modulatory and harmonic effects which are the glory of his finest sonatas, such as the F minor or A 126
The Two-vioiin Sonatas
minor. But if Couperin's early sonatas have not Purcell's fiery originality, their relatively polite urbanity brings its own reward. Purcell, without a developed theatre music behind him, was unable to establish an English classical tradition; Couperin, with Lully behind him, had merely to modify in a contemporary manner a tradition that was already there.
This is why Couperin was able in later years to create sonatas, such as L'Imperiale and the Corelli Apotheose, which in their classical poise are beyond anything which Purcell attempted in this style; this is why Couperin was able to produce music that can seriously be related to the work of Bach. It is not so much a question of the comparative degree of genius with which nature endows a particular composer; this is always difficult to estimate, since so many contributory factors have to be taken into account. It is a question of the value of a tradition; and while Couperin, like Bach, could have made nothing of the tradition without his genius, it is possible that, without the tradition, his genius might have been frustrated.
127
Chapter Seven
The Secular Vocal Works
In discussing coupbrin's concern with 'les Gouts reunis', wc have broadly equated the French 'gout' with the style of Lully. This style, however, incorporated a number of elements from French traditions of domestic music for the solo voice; and to these traditions Couperin himself made a modest contribution. Intrinsically his secular vocal music is of no importance; but the conventions which he employed in it have a direct bearing on his church music, and an implicit bearing on almost everything he wrote. In this chapter we must therefore offer some account of French conventions of solo vocal music in the seventeenth century, in order that we may understand how, in his church music, Couperin was able to translate Italian techniques into French terms; in order that we may have a more adequate appreciation of the native traditions to which he belonged.
During the grand siecle there were in French song two main lines of evolution, which are not always sharply differentiated. The first of these is the sophisticated air de cour, on which a few prehminary remarks have been made in Part I; the second is the more popular chansons a boire, vaudevilles, and brunetes. In the early years of the century there was not much difference between the two lines. Both were variations of the simpler homophonic madrigal in which the melodic interest was centred in the top line, so that the under parts could be with equal effectiveness either sung or played upon instruments; and both were associated with the dance, whether folk dance or the sophisticated ballet. The collection of airs de cour made by Adrien le Roy in 1597 makes no attempt to delineate the characteristics of the genre, beyond indicating that simplicity and a gentle graciousness were prerequisites of it.
Under the influence of precieux society, the air de cour became 128
The Secular Vocal Works
explicitly monodic and more sophisticated. It was not an attempt to embrace the Italian humanistic passion, but the deliberate creation of a refined, virtuoso stylization. It is true that the greatest of the early air de cour composers, Pierre Guedron, showed, under the influence of the ballet melodramatique, some influence of the methods of Caccini, and in some of his airs attained to an almost operatic intensity:
										
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but such passages are exceptional. In general the air de cour composers remained recalcitrant to the Italian style not because they were ignorant of it—they themselves composed 'Italian' settings of Italian words—but because they sought a different effect. Like every artist of the salons, they wanted a certain proportion and refinement combined with a highly charged emotionalism of a sweetly 'tnelan-colique' order. The atmosphere is indicated by this quotation from Sorel's novel Francion:
i
129
Francois Couperin: The Work
Alors il vint des musiciens qui chanterent beaucoup d'airs nouveaux> joignant le son de leurs luths et de leurs violes a celui de lews voix. Ah, dit Francion, ayant la tete penchee dessus le sein de Laurette, apres la vue d'une beauts il n'y a point de plaisir qui m'enchante comme fait celui de la musique. Mon cceur bondit a chaque instant; je nc suis plus a moi; les tremblements de voix font trembler mignardement mon ame.
The date of this passage, 1663, places it in the second florescence of the air de cour; it is quoted here because it demonstrates so clearly the impulse from which the air de cour grew. The concentration on an esoteric emotionalism, the deliberate cultivation of sensuous subtleties, is found also in the contemporary lutenists; it produced a kind of escape art which links up with the pastoral convention of the highly fashionable Astree. This pastoralism had itself been borrowed from Italian sources—from Guarini, Tasso, and Sannazar; it was not surprising that it prospered in die hyper-sophisticated French community. The pastoral life became an ideal because it was supposedly free of complications, free of intrigue; because it seemed to offer, regressively, a simpler mode of existence. From this point of view we can see the significance of Mersenne's remark:
Il faut premierement supposer que la musique et par consequent les airs sont faicts particulierement et principalement pour charmer 1'esprit et l'oreille, et pour nous faire passer la vie avec un peu de douceur parmi les amertumes qui s'y rencontxent.
This is an ambiguous attitude which we have met before—in La Rochefoucauld, for instance. The self-protective irony should not lead us to underestimate the degree to which the authors meant what they said.
In terms of musical technique, the sense of proportion was realized in the very simple formal structure which the composers adopted —the strophic tune in two parts, both with repeats (AA, modulation to dominant; BB return to tonic). The emotionalism and sensuousness within this formal framework were achieved partly by the incidental rhythmic subdeties, suggested by the text and by the composers' experiments in Greek prosody:
pl fr r rrnr r irfrr rrrf'rr i
CesNymphes hos-tes-ses des bois,     Bravantles a ■ mou-reu   - ses loix
130
The Secular Vocal Works
and pardy by the ornamentation which, with increasing complexity, embellished the vocal line. The elegant emotionalism was thus almost entirely a rhythmic and linear matter; the composers were not gready interested in the Italian harmonic audacities, and were content if their lute parts 'accompanied' with flatly homophonic chords.
Even in the early days of the air de cour, the ornamentation was thus an integral part o£ the preciosite, of the tnignardise which all the artists of the salons cultivated. It gave the line its suppleness of nuance; it made hearts tremble. Some of the ornaments were suggested by sixteenth-century conventions, particularly those of a descriptive nature. Thus references in the text to upward or downward movement, to flight, to flames literal or metaphorical, to pain or distress, are accompanied by appropriate melodic stylizations:
and there is some approach to a scheme of musical symbols, analogous to the conventional vocabulary of the poems of a Tristan l'Hermite. There was, however, a growing tendency to indulge in ornamentation for its own sake—as a virtuoso exhibition ofmignar-dise. Formulae such as the following were sometimes appropriate to the words:
Que n'es - tes  vous las  - U    - es,
at other times purely conventional:
D'un_si doux trait.
In either case they rubbed any sharp corners off the lines and provided some compensation for the melodies' unenterprising range, which seldom exceeded an octave, was often restricted to a fifth,
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Francois Couperin: The Work
and, except in the case of Guedron, avoided leaps with any degree of harmonic tension. The ornaments helped to create a stylization suitable for the expression of douceur and mollesse.
Between 1630 and 1640 the airs de cour seemed to be in decline. A new impulse came from Pierre de Nyert, a wealthy dilettante, born in 1597 and educated in musically "progressive' circles. He lived in Rome for a while, and made a study of the Italian theatre and Italian song: Maugars tells us that de Nyert himself announced that he wished to 'ajuster la methode italienne avec la francaise'. He must have been a singer of virtuoso accomplishment; Bacilly remarks that the great Luigi Rossi 'pleuroit de joie de luy entendre executer ses airs'. He must also have been a man of some force of character, for all the composers followed his lead in attempting to reconcile the French and Italian techniques. La Fontaine's famous epitaph:
Nyert, qui pour charmer le plus juste des Rois, Inventa le bel art de conduire la voix, Et dont le go&t sublime a la grande justesse, Ajouta I'Agrement et la Delicatesse,
does not seem hyperbolical when compared with the mass of contemporary tributes to de Nyert's 'genie prodigieux, discernement merveilleux', and so on. His schools for singers, teaching voice production, pronunciation, style and gesture, soon became nationally celebrated: and it was partly through de Nyert's work, which encouraged a more declamatory technique and a more systematized harmonic sense, that the air de cour became one of the constituents of the classical opera.
Perhaps the most impressive evidence of de Nyert's influence is the re-emergence of Antoine Boesset, after a silence of some years, during which he was presumably studying the new techniques. The work of Boesset's old age has a lyrical vitality which cannot be found in the cloyingly 'sensitive' music he wrote in the first part of the century; we may note, for instance, his use of melodic progressions which have a clear harmonic basis:
Me veux   tu voir mou - rir
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The Secular Vocal Works
It is also worth noting that the final volumes of Boesset's work are still published with lute tablature. Henceforth, the songs are published occasionally with lute tablature, more often with an instrumental bass, sometimes with a bass intended to be sung. The more modern methods increase at the expense of the old.
The leaders of the new movement were men of a later generation than either de Nyert himself or Boesset. Le Camus, de la Barre, and Michel Lambert (whom Lecerf de la Vieville called 'le meilleur maitre qui ait 6t6 depuis des siecles') wrote their airs consistendy with figured bass, and are more interested in problems of form and proportion than were the composers of the first half of the century, though they preserve much of the traditional rhythmic freedom. Their air serieux is the old air de cour, modified by Italian harmony and virtuosity. None of them has a talent of the order of Guedron, but they can create melodies which have a genuine dignity and pathos, as we may see from Lambert's setting of Jacqueline Pascal's poem, Sombre desert, retraite de la nuit. Although Mazarin imported Italian singers, and encouraged Italianism in every way, the native tradition was not swamped. Italianate violence was never allowed to imperil propriety, good taste, and mignardise. The distinction made by J. J. Bouchard, in a letter to Mersenne, was still upheld:
Que si vous voulez sgavoir mon jugement, je vous dirai que, pour l'artifice, la science, et la fermeti de chanter, pour la quantity de musiciens, principale-ment de chanteurs, Rome surpasse Paris autant que Paris fait Vaugirard. Mais pour la delicatesse et une certa leggiadira e dilettevole naturalezza des airs, les Francois surpassent les Italiens de beaucoup.
Mersenne himself makes the same point:
Les Italiens ... represent tant qu'ils peuvent les passions et les affections de 1'ame et de l'esprit, par exemple la colere, la fureur, le depit, la rage, les defaillances du cceur et plusieurs autres passions, avec une violence si extraordinaire que Ton jugeroit quasi qu'ils sont touchez des memes affections qu'ils representent en chantant, au lieu que nos Frangais se contentent de flatter l'oreille et qu'ils usent d'une douceur perpetuelle dans leurs chants, ce qui en empesche l'energie.
Even the Italians themselves seem to have been susceptible to the virtues of the French idiom, while recognizing its limitations, if we may judge from J. B. Doni's Traite de la Musique of 1640:
Ou est-ce que Ton chante avec tant de mignardise et delicatesse et oii entend-on tous les jours tant de nouvelles et agreables chansons, meme en la
133
Francois Couperin: The Work
bouche de ceux qui sans aucun artifice et itude font paroistre ensemble la beaute de leurs voix et la gentillesse de leurs esprits; jusqu'a tel point qu'il semble qu'en autres pays les musiciens se font seulement par art et exercice, mais qu'en France ils deviennent tels de nature.
It may seem a little odd that Bouchard should break into Italian in attempting to describe the characteristics of the French style, and that Doni should find this most highly stylized technique remarkable for its naturalness. But all the authorities are agreed as to the general character and value of the French convention; and it is interesting that Cambert, who of all French composers approached most nearly to the Italian cantata technique, was considered crude compared with the most civilized French standards. 'Les sentiments tendres et delicates lui echappaient', said St Evremond; and a disciple of preciosite could hardly make a more damning comment than that.
The second generation of air de cour composers not only systematized the formal and harmonic structure of the genre, they also organized the haphazard decorative techniques of the early part of the century into a fine art. The elaborate system of ornamentation which they evolved was partly an extension of traditional practice— the port de voix, the coule, the flexion, the descriptive vocalise and the tremblement had all appeared in the airs of Guedron and Boesset. But now the various resources are systematized, and the system is more or less synonymous with the invention of the double or diminution. This ornamentation was the basis of the ornamentation of Couperin and the clavecinists, and it is therefore important that we should have some notion of what it was like, and of what the composers thought they were doing when they used it. A detailed account of Couperin's own ornamentation will be reserved until our consideration of his theoretical work, in the third part of this book.
The origins of the double are obscure. It is said that Bacilly may have invented it, through singing embroidered versions of airs by earlier masters such as Guedron and Boesset, though in so doing he may merely have been imitating an Italian fashion. Titon du Tillet seems to suggest that Lambert—celebrated equally as composer and singing teacher—was responsible for the development of the technique: 134
The Secular Vocal "Works
On peut dire qu'il est le premier en France qui ait fait connoitre la beauts de la Musique et du Chant, et la justesse, et les graces de l'expression; il imagina aussi de doubler la plus grande partie de ses airs pour faire valoir la legereti de la voix et l'agrement du gozier par plusieurs passages et roulades brillantes et gracieuses, oil il a excellemment rdussi.
In any case, it soon became the custom to compose and to sing one's airs more or less 'straight' in die first stanza, adding increasingly complex passage work in subsequent verses. Bacilly himself offers a somewhat unconvincing analogy with painting as an explanation of the method:
Tout le Monde convient que le moins qu'on peut faire de passage dans un premier Couplet c'est le mieux, parce qu'assurement ils empeschent que Ton entende l'Air dans sa puretd, de meme qu'avant d'appliquer les couleurs qui sont en quelque fagon dans la Peinture, ce qu'est dans le Chant la Diminution, il faut que le Peintre ait premierement desine" son ouvrage, qui a quelque rapport avec le premier Couplet d'un air.
The strophic build of the air is, as it were, the draughtsmanship; the ornamented couplets are the sensuous elements of colour applied to the linear structure.
The port de voix was the simplest and most common of the ornaments. It was an upwards appoggiatura, a slide up a major or minor second, or sometimes a third, fourth, or even a fifth; it was widely employed for 'les finales, mediantes, et autres principles cadences'. An extremely complicated set of rules conditioned its employment: its purpose was to enhance the plasticity and delicacy of the line, and its correct application called not only for a sound technique but also for good taste. As Bacilly said:
Que le port de voix soit le grand chemin qui les gens qui chantent doivent suivre, comme estant fort utile, mesme pour la justesse de la voix . . . mais . . . il y a des coups de maistre qui passent par dessus le regie, je veux dire que les scavans par une licence qui est en eux une elegance du chant, obmet-tent quclquefois de jetter le note basse sur la haute par un doublement de notte imperceptible.
A hardly less important grace was the tremhlement, by which the composers meant a rapid alternation of two notes, corresponding to the Italian tremolo. (The Florentines' trillo consisted of rapid repetitions of the same note.) More complicated was the cadence ,'un des plus considerable ornamens, ct sans lequel le chant est fort imparfait'.
Francois Couperin: The Work
This took the form of a variously elaborated preparation, followed by a tremblement, followed by a resolution:
que jat-tends
Another ornament was the tremblement étouffé, in which 'le gosier se présente a trembler et pourtant n'en fait que le semblant, comme s'il ne vouloit que doubler la notte sur laquelle se devoit faire la cadence'. This appears to correspond with the Germans' Pralltriller. La flexion de voix was a quick mordent.
All these ornaments and many subsidiary divisions of them were executed on the long syllables. Another group of ornaments, called accents and plaintes, was used on the short syllables. Bacilly defines them as follows:
Ilya dans le Chant un certain ton particulier qui ne se marque que fort légěrement dans le gosier que je nomme accent ou aspiration, á qui d'autres donnent assez mal a propos le nom de plainte, comme s'il ne se pratiquoit que dans les endroits ou Ton se plaint.
Mersenne also speaks of the 'accent plaintif' performed 'sur la notte accentuée, en haussant un peu la notte á la fin de sa pronunciation et en lui donnant une petite pointe, qui passe si viste, qu'il est assez difficile de l'apercevoir'. All the ornaments were sung with considerable rhythmic freedom; groups of decorative notes were conventionally sung in a pointe dotted rhythm, not liltingly in the manner of the gigue, but 'si finement que cela ne paroisse pas, si ce n'est en des endroits particuliers qui demandent expressément cette sortě ďexécution'.
The performer was thus called upon for a considerable degree of creative artistry, if he was to interpret sensitively the ornaments which the composer had marked in the score, and at the same time to know where to add ornaments which the composer had not troubled to indicate because he regarded them as conventionally understood. For both performers and audience, the ornaments are introduced partly to enhance the music's expressive preciositě, partly to show off the skill which made these people a musical, as well as a social, elect. The ornaments make the music more subtle and tendre, 136
The Secular Vocal Works
and less approachable by the common rank and file. While some of the ornaments are suggested by the words in the manner of the sixteenth century:
			If-fp-tFl					1		
	e P	eu				re	et	ti -	mis nui	t   et jour
it is significant that this realism is less in evidence than in the early part of the century. Bacilly insists on the importance of stylization for its own sake and pokes fun at the exponents of descriptive realism, which he considers childish and unsophisticated:
De dire que par exemple sur le mot onde ou celui de balancer il faille expressement marquer sur le papier une douzaine de nottes hautes et basses pour signifier aux yeux ce qui ne doit s'adresser qu'a l'oreille, c'est une chose tout a fait badine et puerile.
Lully himself disapproved of the hyper-subtle ornamentation of the doubles as being of Italian extraction and inimical to the French tradition of naturalness and grace. He underestimated the degree to which the ornamentation had become a local product; in any case he is to Lambert and Le Camus a direct successor. They had written much music, both vocal and instrumental, for the ballet, and it is their sense of proportion and of harmonic progression that Lully, in his theatre music, more impressively developed. In his work, the esoteric air de cour meets the popular elements in French song which complemented it.
Before we turn to examine this more popular tradition, however, we should note that French religious song, during the grand siecle, became virtually indistinguishable from secular song; a fact which is sociologically as well as musically interesting. The chants religieux of a man such as Denis Caigret, who started from the lute song convention of Le Jeune and Mauduit, are relatively simple and homophonic in technique, since they were intended for amateur performance; but in essentials they are the same as the secular pieces. Of the religious songs of the mid-century Bacilly roundly declares that 'Il faut que ces sortes d'airs soient si approches des airs du monde pour 6tre bien recus, qu'a peine on en puisse connaitre la difference': and Gobert's preface to his settings of versified psalms takes care to warn
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Francois Coupbrin: The Work
the performer not to 'obmettre á bien faire les ports de voix, qui sont les transitions agréablcs et les anticipations sur les notes suivantes. On doit observer á propos les tremblements, les flexions de voix... etc' De Gucy, in his settings of psalm-paraphrases published in 1650, wrote fully developed doubles to the psalms, and blandly admitted that one had to 'faire des chants sur le modele des airs de cour pour estre introduits partout avec facilité'.
Both in the music and in their words the airs de cour were a sophisticated art form. Bacilly, in his Remarques, describes songs of the air de cour type as airs passionés (he means that they are full of feeling, not passionate in the modern sense). His other main division of airs de mouuetnent includes all the more 'popular' types of seventeenth-century French song. During the second half of the century, the sophisticated and popular elements tended to become more sharply difFeren-tiated; Perrin, after defining the air de cour as a song which 'marche a mesure et a mouvement libres et graves', adds that 'la chanson differe de l'air en ce qu'elle suit un mouvement regie de danse ou autre'. All the lighter songs—chansons, vaudevilles, airs h boire, brunetes, and airs champétres—had some affiliation with the dance and were, as Lecerf de la Viéville says, 'articles considerables et singuliěres pour nous'. Most of them fall into one of two groupings; songs in which both words and music have a popular character, and those in which sophisticated words are adapted to popular or quasi-popular tunes.
The songs which are popular in both words and music are comparatively few, and are almost all chansons a danser, survivals from the sixteenth-century technique of homophonic sung dances. Their technique and purpose had not greatly altered since Mangeant's description of them in 1616:
Il n'est point d'exercice plus agréable pour la jeunesse, ny qui soit plus ušité en bonnes compagnies que la danse; voire en tel sorte que le plus souvent au défaut des instruments Ton danse aux chansons.
Another charming contemporary account suggests that they were sometimes preferred to instrumental dance music:
II y avait des violons, mais ordinnairement on les faisait taire pour danser aux chansons. C'est si joli de danser aux chansons.
The chansons were symmetrical in construction, 'simples et
naturelles'.
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Thb Secular Vocal Works
Much more frequent, in Ballard's collections of the airs, are the songs in which sophisticated words are written to popular tunes. Some of these are in dance rhythms. It became a fashionable pastime to write verses in sarabandc, gavotte, and bourree form, and so on. Normally, however, the songs are not meant to be danced to, and the more serious ones such as the sarabandes are often indistinguishable from the simpler airs de cour. More characteristic of the sophisticated adaptations of popular tunes are the vaudevilles (or voix de villes); it is interesting that in defending them against the charge of vulgarity, Bacilly points out that popular tunes are in essence naturels, 'qui est unc quality fort considerable dans le chant*. 'Les Francois sont a peu pres les seuls qui aient entendu cette brievete raisonnable qui est la perfection des vaudevilles et cette naivete qui en est le sel.' De Rosiers, in the preface to his collection Un Livre de Liberies, explains why he thinks vaudevilles are an important part of musique de societe:
Un homme toujours serieux serait insupportable et sa conversation ne serait bonne que quand Ton est endormi; le lire dissipe l'humeur melan-colique, e'est pourquoi la pratique en est necessaire;
and he goes on to say that though his music may appear somewhat frivolous, none the less to compose it calls for considerable cunning:
Ceux qui font profession de mettre au jour quelque musique scavent bien que la naivete' des chansons a danser ne demande point l'artifice et 1'etude des airs de cour; neanmoins s'ils consideiront bien mes chants ils verront que ma plume les fait voler assez haut pour en acqudrir le titre.
We may note that, just after the middle of the century, when the air serieux was reaching its highest point of esoteric elaboration, there was a complementary increase in the numbers of trivial and facetious chansons and. vaudevilles. At the same time, sophisticated ornamentation was tentatively introduced into the more popular songs, 'qui veulent estre ex6cutees avec plus de tendresse', as Bacilly characteristically put it. This desire to' get it both ways'—to enjoy the advantages of a civilized society while avoiding social responsibility through a consciously naive retreat to a simpler mode of existence— also connects up with the pastoralism of L'Astree.
A more extreme instance of this is provided by the chansons A boire, which also flourished most vigorously during the period of the air de cour's greatest refinement. (We may compare the development of
139
Francois Couperin: The Work
the English tavern catch, during the reign of Charles I, beside the highly sophisticated music of Jenkins and William Lawes.) The phenomenon of the chanson a boire parallels the growth of burlesque literature. At the beginning of the century, the chansons h boire are not distinct from other chansons of a light character; they fall into a period of triteness and vulgarity, and then, in the second half of the century, gain a more self-conscious elaboration, ultimately becoming songs which demand considerable virtuosity from the performer:
ou     soir    et ma   -  tin     l'onde     -    -   char   - ge     du vin
The chansons a boire were more often for two voices, in canon, accompanied by two violins as well as continuo; though examples for a single voice and for various other combinations with continuo are plentiful. Lully composed some sprightly examples in the classic form with violins, and approved of them strongly because they 'sont des pieces propres a la France que les Italiens ne connoissoient pas—l'art de faire des jolis airs, des airs ďune gaíté et facilité qui cadre aux paroles est un point que l'ltahe ne nous contestera pas'. (Lecerf de la Viéville.) Despite its bacchic and dionysiac associations, the chanson a boire was not remote from the other popular manifestations of the air. The air tendre et a boire was a frequent compromise, the implication being that the wine would titillate the amorous palate, leading it not to intenser passion, but to greater subtlety and preciositě.
The brunete did not materially differ from the vaudeville, except that it tended to use less spicy texts, and a more elegandy Platonic version of the love theme. The proportion of pseudo to real folk songs was also rather larger. Some of the more melancholy brunetes thus merge into the airs serieux, and Ballard reprints the simplest airs de cour in his brunete collections. Brunetes were for one, two, or three voices, accompanied by theorbo lute, or sometimes sung unaccompanied. The singers took great pride in singing the songs unaccompanied, a la cavaliere, with the appropriate ornamentation and nuance; the habit also had practical advantages:
On sjait que l'accompagnement aide et adoucit la voix: cependant une 140
The Secular Vocal Works
belle voix, qui n'est point accompagnée, ne devient pas insupportable . . . il y a des moments oil l'accompagnement est presque incommode. La conversation languit; on prie quelqu'un de chanter un Air, on l'ecoute et on recommence á causer. S'il avait propose d'envoyer chercher une basse de viole, on se seroit séparé. A la fin du repas, dans rémotion ou le vin et la joie ont mis les conviez, on demande un air á boire a celui qui a de la voix; 1'accompagnement aurait la quelque chose de génant, qui serait hors de saison... Nos Francois les plus amoureux de Jeurs voix ne font pas non plus difficulté de chanter sans théorbe et sans clavescin et... c'est faire le précieux ou la précieuse de se piquer de ne point chanter sans Théorbe. (Lecerf de la Viéville.)
These little pastoral songs—called brunetes after the pseudo-shepherdesses who sang them or about whom they were sung— enjoyed a phenomenal popularity throughout the seventeenth century, and it was a song of Lully in this manner {Sommes-nous pas trop heureux), which inverted the normal relation between folk music and art music, and entered French folk song as a carol.
Lolly also carried the brunete into the opera where, under the title of air tendre, it preserved its national identity, 'ce caractěre tendre, aisé et naturel, qui flatte toujours sans lasser jamais, et qui va beaucoup plus au cceur qua l'esprit'. Not too much to the heart, however, for it is only 'un peu d'amour' that is 'nécessaire' and 'un charmant amusement'. Here, as always, one must preserve a balance between emotion and a sense of propriety, if only because it is more comfortable to avoid emotional complications. By the early eighteenth century the term brunete was being used rather mdiscrirnin-ately to cover most varieties of the pastoral. But it was still a living reality, and perhaps more than anything, preserved the French tradition from the encroachments of Italianism. In Couperin's work it was a counterpoise to the Corcllian sonata; he must have felt about it much as did Lecerf de la Viéville when he wrote:
Et toutes ces Brunettes, toutes ces jolies airs champetres, qu'on appelle les Brunettes, combien ils sont naturels. On doit compter pour de vraies beautés la douceur et la naivete de ces petits airs—les Brunettes sont doublement á estimer dans notre musique, parce que cela n'est ni de la connoisance, ni du génie des Italiens, et que les tons aimables et gracieux, si finement propor-tionnés aux paroles, en sont d'un extreme prix.
It is rather surprising that Couperin's specific contributions to the brunette collections are so few. If we discount the numerous arrange-
141
1
Francois Couperin: The Work
mcnt of his harpsichord pieces in vocal form, we have left only three airs serieux, and half a dozen or so songs in the semi-popular, semi-sophisticated vein. The earliest of the airs serieux, Quon ne me dise plus, is dated 1697. It is a gravely melancholy piece in E minor, with first section ending in the relative major. The groupings of the melodic clauses are varied, and the line mounts to a quite impressive climax:
The second air serieux, Doux liens, was published in 1701, and the words are a French translation of an Italian poem already set by Alessandro Scarlatti. The music, however, is French in its rhythmic fluidity, and is perhaps closer to the air de cour of the first half of the grand siecle than is the more architecturally balanced Quon ne me dise plus. The third air serieux, explicitly called Brunete, is dated 1711. The most developed piece in Couperin's secular vocal music, it is an air de cour with five doubles or couplets. The air itself is in the usual two sections, with repeats, the first section modulating from G to the dominant with some piquant intimations of D minor. Exquisitely stylized, the melodic arabesques of the doubles have no obvious descriptive intent, although the pliancy and douceur which they give to the line are a part of its expressiveness. As in the earlier airs de cour the convolutions of the ornamentation counteract the rigidity of the harmonic structure: 142
Thb Secular Vocal Works
	1-====*""t					+
et	vous_qui bai -1   ■          J f*					dots or
F#*=f	■ J J-		+	'I r	t	
Vo -	r yez 1« 1       m-L		Fau - nes dc ccs		*= lieux	Et les.
5 7 6
ll* rtrl			_ +	+
#=™ Nymph tvH m—^~	- , e	_ de.	rr*                        ha . —i-■—-	ca   -       - ges -|S>-1-
"rrrrr dsss33 £ * 6		6 5	li  r ^'	4 (1
The harmonies remain constant while, through the succession of couplets, the complexities of the ornamentation increase. However much the influence of de Nyert may have encouraged the French to experiment with this kind of melodic filigree, the soft fluidity of the line is germane to the French tradition. One can observe reflections of it all through Couperin's work. As a whole, this song is a most beautiful example of musical preciosite.
These three songs are sophisticated pieces in the esoteric manner of the air de cour. Another sophisticated song, of a simpler, more harmonic type is Les Solitaires, a piece of amicably self-indulgent melancholy, written for two voices, moving note for note, and continuo. Then there are a few songs in the semi-popular vein, La Pastourelle, Musete, Vaudeville, and Les Pellerines, all published in
143
Francois Couperin: The Work
171 i or 1712. The vaudeville is for three voices and bass, the other songs for two voices, the parts in every case moving note for note. Les Pellerines also exists in a clavecin version in Couperin's first book of keyboard pieces. Despite their popular flavour, the tunes seem to be original, not adaptations of folk-songs. They are all charming, but indistinguishable from innumerable other songs in the brunete tradition; Couperin here makes no attempt to use the brunete convention, as he does later, for his own ends.
More interesting than these characterless pastorals is Couperin's air a boire, a setting of La Fontaine's Epitaphe d'unParesseux. The two vocal parts follow convention in being freely canonic; there are some contrapuntal jokes on the words Deux parts en Jit, and the canonic parts are throughout neatly dove-tailed. Finally, there are three unaccompanied songs in three parts. Two of them are canons, the second being an entertaining chanson a boire, A moi, tout est perdu, which parodies operatic recitative. The declamatory theme gives prominence to the notes of the major triad. Appoggiaturas in the ornamentation create some effectively odd parallel seconds;
The three-part unaccompanied parody, Trois Vestales et trois policons, is one of the most personal of the secular pieces, and suggests the kind of modification of the pastoral convention which Couperin introduces into his most significant work. There may not be much in a passage such as this: 144
'Dans le Goüt Pastoral': Cours de la Reine Mere
The Secular Vocal Works
	C '          k M		P       J I
g  * ' 1 1 lit  ,  , r ff-			
f - r r r	J. k		etc.
Quel bruit sou -	dain      vient troub	J-       J- » -ler      nos      re -	trai - tes?
to indicate that it is by an important composer but it is iUuminating to consider it in relation to, say, the quick sections of the Lecons des Tenebres.
For clearly, our account of the brunete tradition, comparatively detailed as it is, could not be justified simply as an introduction to Couperin's few trifling exercises in this style. We need to understand the pastoral tradition because it is one of the points from which Couperin starts. His contributions to the idiom are insignificant; what is important is the manner in which he uses elements of the brunete in all his most important work. We shall find subtle transmutations of the brunete repeatedly throughout his clavecin music and concerts; while in the relatively Italianate period of the church music, it is the brunete, even more than the opera of Lully, which stands for Couperin as the central line in the French tradition.
K
»45
Chapter Eight
The Church Music
La Musique d'un Motet, qui en est, pour ainsi dire, le corps, doit etre expressive, simple, agreable. ... La Musique de l'Eglise doit etre expressive. Les regies que nous nous sommes etablies la menent la bien certainement. N'est-il pas evident que plus ce qu'on souhaite est doux, plus ce qu'on craint est terrible; et plus nos sentiments veulent etre exprimez d'une maniere vive et marquee? Or ou est-ce qu'on craint et qu'on souhaite de si grandes choses? Les passions d'un Opera sont froides, au prix de celles qu'on peint dans notre Musique de l'Eglise.
bonnet, Histoire de la Musique, 1725
The secularization of church music during the seventeenth century was not an isolated phenomenon, but a part of the drift of European culture from the church to the stage. Secular music evolved from Orazio Vecchi's latently operatic treatment of the madrigal, to Monteverdi's explicitly narrative and dramatic version with soloists and instrumental ritornelli; and thence to the solo cantata itself. (For instance, such works of Monteverdi as II Combat-timento di Tancredi, and the baroquely emotional cantatas of Rossi.) Similarly, in the field of ecclesiastical music, the monumental polyphony of the Venetian school of Giovanni Gabrieli gave to the religious technique a glamour which almost suggested the humanistic passion of the chromatic madrigal. When once the chromatic idiom entered the church, it was only one step further to introduce the operatic aria and recitative.
The first years of the century show an extraordinarily rich fusion of techniques. The Vespers and Magnificat and other church music which Monteverdi composed for St Mark's, Venice, have a grounding in the old counterpoint, combined with monumental colouristic effects, brilliant instrumentation, baroque figuration, madrigalian 146
The Chuhch Music
chromaticism, and passages of operatic aria and recitative. And there is a mature fusion, not a confusion, of styles. Even when the homo-phonic theatre style had been unequivocally accepted in the church, there are still traces of continuity with the old methods. The opening of this solo cantata of Schiitz, who was at one time among Monteverdi's pupils, recalls the placing together of unrelated triads typical of the chromatic madrigal:
É
P o
and this passage suggests both the chromatic madrigal, and the contrapuntal technique of the baroque organists:
J      J> J)
t
7J| jjj
r
1
147
Francois Couperin: The Work
But the key-figure with reference to the future of church music is not Monteverdi, nor Schütz, but the Italian Carissimi. His life stretches across the century from 1605 to 1674, and his work is mtimately linked with the religious life of Rome. No doubt the enthusiasm of Pope Urbino VIII for the new monodic style encouraged Carissimi to develop Cavalieri's attempt (in his Rappresen-tazione di anima e di corpo) to adapt the operatic technique to a religious use; but in so doing he was following the direction in which his sensibility led him. In 1630 he was appointed musical director of the Jesuit college of St Apollinaire, for German students, and it was in this environment that he composed his long series of sacred histories and oratorios. He accepted in his technique the operatic recitative and aria, madrigalian chromaticism, and the 'monumental' homophonic style of choral writing: his music is by no means devoid of the Bernini-like qualities, the declamatory passion and emotional chromatic progressions which characterize the secular cantatas of Rossi:
		\JJ    1 KM		-} Umf—r
$ f 4> J	f  r f iti. i,—			
	1 * ]Tp. Jin	a >j -|		d—J   ci-1
	I	-O-'	r 1 JL-	
The Church Music
The essence of his achievement, however, lies in the more sober stylization of baroque exuberance which he introduces. Like Cavalli in the opera, he employs an almost consistently homophonic style in his large-scale choruses; in his solo cantatas he is as much interested in the balance of clauses, the alternation of mood, as in lyrical expressiveness. In these smaller works he substituted for the glittering baroque orchestra the more intimate combination of solo voices, with two obbligato violins, and a rich but subdued continuo of organ, harpsichord and theorbo lute. There is thus some analogy between the chamber cantata and the baroque violin sonata.
Some of Carissimi's arias have a lyrical suavity and balanced elegance which reminds one of Lully, or even Handel:
•
etc.
and there is a very moving choral passage at the end of Jephtha which anticipates the technique of tranquilly sensuous suspensions in dotted rhythm which we have already observed in some of the slow movements of Couperin's violin sonatas:
&4
. etc.
r
r—-—■
149
Francois Couperin: The Work
etc.
In any case, it is not difficult to understand why Carissimi's music, with its aristocratic disciplining of baroque passion, made so imme-. diate an appeal to his contemporaries who were in search of an autocratic stylization; the virtues of his work were such as were bound to interest, in particular, the adherents of the Roi Soleil. By the time of Lully, Carissimi's influence on French church music was of an importance which was hardly to be exceeded even by Corelli's influence on the instrumental school. Lecerf de la Vieville, who was the last person to flatter an Italian, said:
Quoique Carissimi soit antericur a cet age de la bonne musique italienne, j'ai toujours 6t6 persuade qu'il est le plus grand musicien que i'Italie ait produit et un musicien illustre a juste titrc, plein de genie sans contredit, mais, de plus, ayant du naturel et du gout; enhn, le moins indigne adversaire que les Italiens ayent a opposer a Lully.
It seems probable that at the height of his popularity this 'homme d'un merite extraordinaire s'etait longtemps forme en faisant chanter ses pieces aux Theatins de Paris.'
In 1649 a French youth of fifteen, Marc-Antoine Charpentier, went to Rome to study painting. He seems to have had precocious musical gifts also, for, hearing some of Carissimi's sacred histories, he decided that his life's work must be to create music such as that. The legend has it that he memorized several of Carissimi's works and carried them back to France in his head. However this may be, there is no doubt that his efforts and those of Michel Farinel did much to encourage the vogue for Carissimi in France. Most of Charpentier's own work is sacred music in Carissimi's convention; though his Medee suggests that he might have been a successful opera composer also, but for Lully's monopoly. His compositions include masses, psalms, and lecons des tenures for the Dauphin's private chapel, sacred histories and motets for the Jesuits of the rue St 150
The Church Music
Antoine, and even a few small works for Port Royal. In Charpen-tier's music, the lyrical suavity and architectural gravity of Carissimi acquire a rather more pathetic and introspective tinge, as they merge into the French line of Lullian recitative. The declamation itself is a compromise between Lully and the Italian baroque flourish:
Per-cu-fi-am pas
to - rem, percu - tt-am pas
to-rem     et dis-per-
- gen      - -
i
r
f—-r
and the tone of his work has an elegiac quality comparable with that of the lutenists. If he has less power and variety than Carissimi, he has possibly greater subdety and depth, and certainly he preserves a. closer contact with the polyphonists; Titon du Tillet called him 'un des plus scavants et des plus laborieux Musiciens de son terns'. In the wonderful closing section of his finest work, Le Reniement de St Pierre, he attains to a sustained purity of line, mated with a dissolving sensuousness of harmony, which rivals the finest work of Couperin himself:
151
Francois Couperin: The Work
jjjj
i
i
Mi
rrr~ j j j
r
"O"
4a=
There is nothing that more recalls Couperin's flavour, unless it be a few passages in the cantatas of Henri Dumont.
Of all the church composers of the grand siecle Henri Dumont has perhaps the closest link with the polyphonic art of the previous century. Indeed he continued to compose contrapuntal music in the old a capella tradition until the end of his life in 1684, and he was the only composer of his time to write masses directly based on plain-song themes, even though these themes were mensurated and tonally modernized. He is however chiefly remembered for his fine motets in the new style for solo voices and continuo, many of which date from the middle of the century. These have a sinewy power which is at once fervent and devotional. They suggest a development which was finally consummated in the work of La Lande, unquestionably one of the greatest religious composers of the seventeenth century, though his work is, in diis country at least, little known. With his 152
The Church Music
habitual good taste Louis personally chose La Lande to be Du Mont's successor18 as Superintendent of the Royal Chapel. He had picked a man who was able to create in church music a worthy counterpart to the grandeur of Lully's achievement in secular music. The general tenor of La Lande's work is noble and Handelian, but the contrapuntal vitality of his lines gives great nervous force to his rich and sonorous harmonies. We cannot deny that a work such as his De Profundis conveys a spiritual mumination which makes it perhaps the most impressive musical instance of the strain of mysticism that we have seen to be latent in this ostensibly hedonistic society.
Now while Couperin in his church music does not attempt to emulate La Lande's massive dignity he rivals, perhaps even excels him in the ability to express an intimate spirituality, a purity of feeling and a sense of wonder which are the prerequisites of a religious view of experience. From this point of view both Couperin and La Lande differ essentially from Lully. Sometimes, it is true, there is an unexpected tenderness, as well as nobility, in the drooping suspensions of Lully's motets:
■6)-&-
11 'Le Roi qui se connoissait parfaitement en Musique gouta fort celle de La Lande, il lui donna successivement les deux charges de Maitre de Musique de la Chambre et les deux de Compositeurs, celle de Surintendant de la Musique, et les quatre Charges de Maitre de la Chapelle.' (Titon du Tillet.)
153
Francois Couperin: The Work
and. the magnificent early Miserere (1664) that so moved Mme de Sevigne achieves its lacerating intensity by a La Lande-like fusion of harmonic and contrapuntal elements. His more typical, later church works, however, such as the Te Deum or even the nobly passionate Dies Irae, are massive, ceremonial, festive, deriving not from the intimate sacred histories of Carissimi but from his homo-phonic choral pieces. There is nothing specifically religious about these bold lines and monumental harmonies, any more than there is about Corneille's ostensibly Christian play Polyeucte. Some analogy may be established between Lully's harmonic and architectural majesty, and the noble resonance of Corneille's heroic couplet. They both have few emotional overtones; they deal in the social values of civilization.
Compared with Lully's ceremonial homophony, the church music of Couperin, like that of La Lande, shows a greater fluidity of line and freedom of harmony; we see in his finest religious music perhaps the most remarkable demonstration of his compromise between polyphonic and homophonic technique. If Lully's homophony may be related to Corneille's alexandrine, perhaps we may see, in the more flexible line and harmony of Couperin, some analogy with the depths of meaning which imagery and rhythm reveal beneath Racine's ostensibly conventional language. Ultimately, this plasticity corresponds to a deeper interest in the workings of the human mind and to a more spiritual conception of values than is common to the gallantry of Lully and Corneille. We can adequately understand Couperin's Moliere-like sanity and humour only if we realize that it is modified by a tragic sense of the implications of Le Misanthrope; we can appreciate his classical poise only if we see it in relation to the ferocity of Phedre; and we can most clearly understand his spiritual radiance if we see it in relation to the extreme douceur of Racine's Athalie.17
For central representative of the grand siecle though he is, Racine has, especially in Athalie, a spiritual purity which seems to refer back to the great days of French medieval civilization. Couperin's church music has a similar quality. He accepts the Italianized, secularized
17 The music for the choruses in Racine's Athalie and Esther was in fact composed by J-B. Moreau who also set three of Racine's Cantiqucs Spirituels. While not in the class of Couperin's finest work, his music has an exquisite grace which is worthy of Esther, if not of Athalie.
154
The Church Music
convention of the motet and cantata in the manner of Carissimi, but he manages to reconcile this with a purity and simplicity of technique and feeling which reminds one of Josquin, or even Dufay. In this he more maturely develops an element which we shall later note in the work of Chambonnieres. Of course, apart from the linear nature of his idiom—closer to Bach than to Lully or Handel—there is in Couperin's work no direct technical heritage from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. But there is a certain temperamental affinity, and it is this which gives him so central a position in the French tradition. While he belongs without ambiguity to the age in which he lived, and cannot be said to live, like Bach, culturally in the past, none the less he has something of Bach's transitional significance. What was clearly true of the organ masses is more subtly true of all his representative work. He looks backwards rather than forwards; he stands between the medieval and the modern world.
The church music of both Couperin and La Lande was composed between 1695 and 1715, during the last melancholy years of Louis's reign, and for that reason it is perhaps understandable that a more intimately spiritual tone should be discernible in it, if it be compared with Lully's worldly splendour. This more spiritual quality is not, however, present in the earliest example of Couperin's work for the Chapelle Royale, the motet Laudatepuert Dominum, dated 1697. This is an exercise in Carissimi's cantata technique, comparable with the experiments in Corellian sonata technique which Couperin had made a few years previously. Although an impressive piece, it is not a work of mature personality.
The 'Symphony' is designed in the Carissimi manner for two violins and continuo, though Couperin is not specific about the instruments to be employed. The melodic parts are freely canonic, with many overlapping suspensions, as in the two-violin sonatas. The solo instruments anticipate the material of the vocal sections, but are used only during the interludes or ritornelli, not in conjunction with the voices. The next movement, Sit nomen Domini bene-dictus, uses voices and violins together in imitation, in a solemn 3 : a pulse. The piece corresponds to the grave sarabande of the da chiesa sonata. The harmony is rich and massive, though not especially personal.
A solis ortu is a brilliant virtuoso section in the Italian fashion, a
155
Francois Couperin: The Work
fugal movement on a 'harmonically' centred subject incorporating a rising arpeggio and falling scale passage:
A so- lis or - tu       us -quead oc -a    -   - sum
Here the two instrumental parts have a continuously animated share in the counterpoint, and include much glittering passage-work in thirds. The Excelsus super omnesgentes section is in a simple symmetrical rhythm resembling the French air tendre. Echo effects are obtained in dialogue between voices and violins, and the gende rhythm and limpid diatonicism provide the first intimation of an effect which Couperin is to develop in later church works:
glo. - ri-a -
Violins _
e - |us
m
1
efc.
Then follows a passage of arioso, making use of sequential figurations:
m
¥
etc.
in   coe-lo et  in ter - ra, in    coe-lo et in ter - ra, in
A charming Lullian dance in a dotted triple rhythm accompanies the words Suscitans a terra inopem, and leads into an Italianate arioso duo on the words Ut collocet eum. The work concludes with a long can-zona on a brisk dance tune: 156
The Church Music
involving the two violins and three voices in continuous contrapuntal dialogue. The voices are called upon for considerable virtuosity; Handelian baroque passages in the bass are frequent:
be-tan.
ton,    Qui ha-bi-ta - re fa-cit
tic.
The movement is brilliant and effective, if not very typical of Couperin.
The Quatre Versets d'un Motet chante a Versailles, 1703, to words from the psalm Mirabilia testimonia tua, marks the emergence of the authentic Couperin manner in Latin church music. It opens with a remarkable arioso passage (Tabescere me fecit) for two unaccompanied sopranos, treated in free imitation. The tenuous purity of the two voices, pitched high in their register, evokes the atmosphere of the whole work, which is of a 'celestial' radiance such as we have met before in parts of the violin sonatas and organ masses. The unaccompanied opening—Couperin's direction that it 'se chante sans Basse Continue ny aucun Instrument' is unequivocal—has flexible lines and subtle effects of ellipsis. The instruments enter with a delicate theme embracing a rising fifth and a little repeated falling scale figure in quavers. The texture resembles that of the gayer, more ballet-like fugal sections of the organ masses, though when the voice appears it exploits a more Italian technique, with long roulades suggested by the words:
157
Francois Couperin: The Work
The quaver scale passage is used here sequentially to the doux accompaniment of drooping octaves on the violins. It appears fairly con-sistendy throughout the movement: towards the end, a more emotional chromaticism is introduced into the bass.
The next verse, Adolescentulus sum, is in the major, scored for soprano, two flutes, and continuo played on violins. This limpid sonority accords with the innocent diatonicism of the lines, with the caressing passing notes, and with the simply symmetrical rhythm. This conscious naivete could not have been created but for Couperin's relation to the brunete tradition. It is, however, much more than that, for it is in such effects as this mtertwining of soprano and flute that we may find a purity, a spiritual innocence, more reminiscent of Josquin and Dufay than of the sensual emotion of Carissimi and the grand Steele. In this instance we may even see some slight technical similarity between the dissolving effect of the passing notes in the Couperin: 158
The Church Music
Flute»
Continue-(ViolinO
m
e/c.
1 BT
and those in some of the simpler, more homophonic work of Josquin.
This movement leads into a lighdy dancing setting of Justitia tua for two sopranos, with a continuo of violins. The leap of a tenth gives the theme a lilting airiness:
ijfr -IT |j- Hit fi					
Ju - sti - ti - a t	u - a    Ju -	sti -	i-a	tu -	a
There are piquant canonic entries producing dissonant suspensions: OLL   j>j>.j---^/3j31.j.
-etc.
The last section, Qui dat nivem, is scored for the same combination as the Adolescentulus sum, and likewise proceeds in a gende crochet
159
Francois Couperin: The Work
pulse. Passing notes and appoggiaturas again create a glowing, radiant quality:
r.'u I.'tv^
At the end the voice and flute dissolve away in triplets and then semiquavers in silvery thirds. Throughout, the texture of the work has a filigree-like delicacy, and no one but Couperin could have written it.
After this ethereal work, the Sept Versets du Psaume Benedixisti Domitte of 1704 strike a different note. This piece has grandeur and intensity. The first section is a bass aria with flute obbligato. Although meditative and withdrawn, with a quiet regular rhythm like some of Bach's Passion arias, it is remarkable for its spacious proportions, linear complexity, and powerful sense of climax. The vocal phrases are of great length, with Italian descriptive flourishes:
sa r lu - ta_
Chromatically rising figures create a sense of urgency and pleading, but the emotion is always controlled by the even pulse, and by the grave proportions of the whole. Note for instance how in this passage the upwards aspiring line is counterbalanced by the falling sequences of the last two bars: 160
The Church Music
Cominuol
t-3
m
The texture has here a Bachian richness. The flute is subtly used both in imitation of the voice and, in a highly effective passage, in unaccompanied duplication at the tenth.
The next section, in the relative major (B flat), is a duo for tenor and bass with independent obbligato parts. The words Numquid in aeternum irasceris nobis suggest a contrapuntal treatment, highly baroque and Italianate, though with a French graciousness. The vocal parts indulge in rapid scale passages and virtuoso roulades. A passage of arioso for the Ostende nobis Domine leads into one of Couperin's hushed, contemplative movements in a swaying triple rhythm, for tenor with instrumental obbligato, probably flute. An atmosphere of naive wonder is obtained through some odd processions of unresolved 6 : 4 chords:
Violins
Cominuol
m
1
66 6 666 666 «4    4     #4       4     4    »4      «4     4 |)4
f rr if 1 mr
6 6 6 «4    4 »4
«3
6 6 4 #4
l6l
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
The tonality changes to a clear G major and a passage of recitative flows into a gende aria on a crochet pulse. Sometimes the part-writing creates tender dissonances similar to those in the sommeil movements of the Apotheose sonatas:
Violins
Voice
Continuo
m
lo-que - tur,
cem     lo-que - tur
3 1-5 2 6     7 7
V «5
6   l>3 6 5 *
#3
more commonly the texture is as transparendy diatonic as that of the organ Messe des Convents:
Violini
Voice
Continuo
	| J- J ,J J 1			+
	T p._ L r ťp		rf+H-	r
	que • tur, lo--1—	que -  tur, lo -J   J J J	que-tur pa -J Jr r	cem
—« i-,—=—J—i	l>5	7 6 4	6   6 1.5	
162
The Church Music
The next verset is a duet for two tenors, again in the minor, and elegiac in tone, with Italian arabesques, mainly in thirds. Veritas de terra is a brief da capo aria in D, with ritornello. The theme starts with the notes of the major triad ascending, and again the solo line has an Italian floridity. The harmonies, however, attain a certain acerbity, during a prolonged modulation to the minor of the dominant. This motet ends quietly with a duet between two pairs of oboe and flute in unison without continuo; after the instrumental prelude, the voices double the first oboe and flute parts. As in the Versets of the previous year, this tenuous finale seems to suggest that the worldly glory of the Roi Soleil is dissolving away into eternity. In this sense, it is not altogether extravagant to say that Couperin's delicate sensuousness has merged into an attitude that can be called transcendental. To this music, as to the hushed, dissolving passages in the violin sonatas, the massive Handelian full close would be utterly inappropriate.
The Qui regis Israel versets of the next year, 1705, show a further development of the graver Bachian manner of the 1704 work. A triple-rhythmed prelude exploits echo effects between the solo instruments and the continuo instruments. The two voices, countertenor and bass, move mainly note for note in a nobly cantabile manner. The Excita potentiam tuam is one of Couperin's jaunty 3 : 8 movements, with the voices this time treated imitatively. The main theme has a sprighdy rising scale figure:
Ex-ci-ta po - tem - ii-am     tu-am et     ve - m et      ve     - ni
The Vineam de Aegypto section is a bass aria in B flat, with a Lullian dance lilt underlying its Italianism. It leads into a lively 3 : 8 air for bass and double chorus, accompanied by groups of oboes and flutes, and violins. All these quick movements are of a somewhat secular frivolity. An altogether deeper note is sounded with the two magnificent arias for counter-tenor with obbligato flutes. These are in F minor—according to Rameau the conventional key for chants lugubres. The Operuit mentes umbra ejus section employs wild, whirling scale passages in the instrumental parts, similar to those adapted
163
Francois Couperin: The Work
from Lully's overture by the violists and lutenists in their Tombeaux movements. The piece as a whole has a most impressive union of the violist's ceremonial grandeur with Monteverdian dramatic fire— note for instance the big leaps, the diminished sevenths and tritones in the proudly declamatory line:
	mm	
---m ■—r~u—*}-m- * —	U-..........f J	Y—f— J. JP'rep
The second air, Extendit palmites suos, is in a steady triple rhythm, warm in its harmonic texture. It includes extended passages for voice with flutes and violins unaccompanied by the continuo. Here again we find the characteristically disembodied, unearthly effect.
The last section returns to C minor for a grave aria for countertenor with flute and viol obbligato. The regular rhythm and independent part-writing once more suggest a more ethereal Bach, especially in certain sequential effects in the obbligato parts:
The Church Music
The harmony, however, often inclines to an un-Bachian, if delicate, voluptuousness.
With the Motet de Ste Suzanne we reach one of the peak points of Couperin's church music. Here the paradox of a sensuousness of harmony that is united with a virginal spirituality of line finds its loveliest expression. The opening is Italianate and Handelian, yet the impression it produces is remote from Handel's solidity. The material is founded almost entirely on this little phrase:
Ve-ni, ve - ni, spon-sa . Chris-ti,        Ve-ni.ve-ni   co-ro
be - ru
The expressive wriggle on coronaberis later attains a lilting exuberance:
			4-		
	Vi* m				
•co - ro   - na_
and is bandied about between the counter-tenor and obbligato violins. Couperin's sensuous sevenths and ninths introduce a more introspective tinge into the minor episodes, but the movement never loses its innocently smiling, almost playful, quality.
This playfulness is a part of the music's innocence and there is nothing superficial or irreverent about it. The seriousness of the work is revealed in the following duo for counter-tenor and soprano, Date serta, date fiores, one of the most fragrant of all Couperin's movements in this manner. We may compare its ninth chords and melting suspensions with those in the sommeil movements of the Apothéose sonatas, or with the less mature examples in the organ Messe des Convents. The counter-tenor is the upper part and sounds an octave lower;
165
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
Voices
me - re • tur   ho • nor • es, haec    mar tyr sane - lis - si-ma haec
rr
r
vir - go cas - ns • sima me - re - tur,   ho - nor
etc
Nowhere does Couperin more cunningly exploit the effect of voices in thirds and sixths, high in their register. This air leads into a chorus, Jubilemus, exultemus, transparent in sonority, though gay. There are some exquisite overlapping scale passages, and naive arpeggio figurations and chordal effects at the words resonet coelum plausibus.
The 3 : 2 aria, O Susanna, quanta est gloria tua, is related to the^rafe sarabande of the Italian violin sonata. It is superbly moulded in the Carissimi or Handelian manner, but voluptuously tender. We may regard it as the consummation of the little Qui tollis peccata mundi couplet of the Messe des Convents referred to in the chapter on the organ works. It has the same spiritual fragrance, but has too a classical amplitude in its proportions, particularly in passages in which the two obbligato violins sing in company with the soprano. This quotation gives an idea of its calm lyrical beauty, its richly tranquil harmony: 166
The Church Music
0      Su - san - na_ Su - san
«h,,j ,J «M,
Is
iu quan - la est
glo  -   ri - i        tu   - a
O      Su - san - na
etc.
J    J M
r
A change to four rhythm introduces the Voluit Dominus sacrificiutn for bass, obbligato instruments and continuo.This is a harmonically treated fugal movement in which voices and instruments use an imitative technique more or less consistently. The theme makes play with an octave leap, and the soloist has some eloquent descriptive flourishes:
ig - nis atque   flam - ma_._
After a repetition of the Jubikmus chorus comes a duet for soprano, bass, and continuo, the two voices being treated canonically. The gendy rising theme, with its elliptical entries, and the suspended sevenths and ninths of the continuo again suggest an emotional warmth, mingled with naive wonder:
167
Francois Couperin: The Work
SopranoI
Bass
Continuo
			[J J-J)l	
*)i »11-0		0   Su . [if r r	san  ■ na, Su-»• mm. m	san-na,
s*\ r p O Su *>jtn	san - na, Su-	san na Quan! -	ta   est glo - ri •	a
l-^t f i		—_i*-		
Here too the feeling resembles that of the organ Messe des Convents. A brief ritornello and a passage of not particularly distinguished recitative is then rounded off by a second repetition of the Jubilemus chorus.
Probably Couperin would have claimed no more for the Ste Suzanne motet than that it was a simple, sensuous act of veneration, dedicated to a saint who was also a pretty girl. Yet in the very simplicity of the sensuousness—the candour of the feeling—a spiritual experience is involved. The douceur and quietude of this music touch on a realm of emotion which we find in all Couperin's most significant work, and which has perhaps been most adequately described in verbal terms by Fénelon:
L'etat passif est celui ou une ime, n'aimant plus Dieu d'un amour melange, fait tous ses actes délibérés ďune volonté pleine et efficace, mais tranqu3le et désintéressée. Tantót elle fait les actes simples et indistinctes qu'on nomme quietude ou contemplation; tantót elle fait les actes distinctes des vertus convenables á son état. Mais elle fait les uns et les autres également d'une maniěre passive, c'est á dire, paisible et désintéressée. . . . Cet état passif ne suppose aucune inspiration extraordinaire; il ne renferme qu'une paix et une souplesse infinie de 1'áme pour se laisser mouvoir a toutes les impressions de la grace. . . . L'eau qui est agitée ne peut étre claire, ni recevoir l'image des objets voisins; mais une eau trmquule devient comme la glace pure d'un miroir.... L'ame pure et paisible est de mcme. Dieu y imprime son image et celle de tous les objets qu'il veut y imprimer; tout s'imprime, tout s'efFace. Cette áme n'a aucune forme propre, et elle a également toutes celles que la grace donne. ... II n'y a que le pur amour qui donne cette paix et cette docilité parfaite.
The phrase 'tranquille et désintéressé' is the key to all Couperin's most characteristic music, and, indeed, to the most significant art of 168
The Church Music
his time. It is not a matter of any 'inspiration extraordinaire'; it is a matter of simplicity and honesty of response, and if one can achieve that, says Fénelon, the grace and the peace of God will be added unto one. It is purity of heart that leads to a docilité parfaite, which is greater than le mot or la volonté. We may recall also a passage from one of Fénelon's letters to the Comtesse de Montbaron:
L'amour-propre malade, et attendri sur lui-méme, ne peut étre touché sans crier les hauts cris. L'unique reméde est done de sortir de soi pour trouver la paix.
There is no more beautiful testimony to this than Couperin's music; and even in the nineteenth century we can, from this point of view, see Gabriel Fauré as Couperin's successor. His music, too, has purity of Ľne, combined with a subtle sensuousness of harmony; and his Requiem, like Couperin's Ste Suzanne motet, is 'so near to God that it is without revolt, cry, or gesture'.
The motets which we have so far considered are all constructed on a plan similar to that of Bach's cantatas, with arias, recitatives of a lyrical arioso character, instrumental ritornelli, and obbligato parts. Unlike Bach and unlike Lully, Couperin makes little use of the chorus. When he does employ it, as in the Ste Suzanne motet, it is with discretion. The series of Elevations that follow the 1706 versets are all essentially music for soloists, with organ continuo. With one exception, they have no solo obbligato parts. Their form, like that of Carissimi's cantatas, is closely related to the sonata da chiesa. They are, as it were, 'chamber' cantatas, and in writing them Couperin was following the lead given by the beautiful Elevations of Lully.
The first elevation, O Misterium ineffabile, is the only example of Couperin's church music which was published in a modern edition before the appearance of the Lyrebird edition. It sets the temper of most of the elevations; a flexible vocal line flows over smooth harmonic progressions, in an even crochet pulse. Some rather surprising modulations give the piece a restrained fervour—for instance this typical modulation to the minor of the dominant:
O cha - n -
ti - tis sa - era
mentum, sa-era -
mentum a - do
1 6 6 4
I69
Francois Couperin: The Work
This quality is particularly noticeable in the 3 : 2 aria, in which long sustained suspensions on the exclamation 'O' combine with chromatic progressions and false relations to convey a quiedy ecstatic yearning:
0 \ik ..1 "^71		°		con-vi.-va . ,1 J.J).j 1
■qt|tH ~	0 &—			r r ¥ con - vi - va -
-J^i-1				if t7t i
- rum fe - li        - ci - tas
		
- rum fe - h  ■ - - ci -		-e-tas
	1 I»'	
The second elevation, O Amor, O Gaudium, is for three male voices, and is in a similar mood. The opening 3 : 2 grave is not remarkable; an affetuoso 3 : 4 is a delightful air with cross-rhythmed exultations in the solo part:
8 6      ft) 6 f 7ft
4
170
The Church Music
The return to 3 : 2 takes us richly through the relative minor, and includes some imitative treatment of a tendre phrase built from descending fourths.
The third Elevation, O Jesu Amantissime, for counter-tenor, is perhaps the finest in this elegantly fervid manner. Its 3 : 2 aria has a spacious gravity, with effective melisma on the word aeternitas. It is chiefly notable, however, for its intense arioso—note this treatment of the word crudelis:
6 7 8   -     t7 *■
* % ~ s-
The triumphant aria in the major provides a florid Italianate conclusion, but is hardly an adequate resolution of the more melancholy parts.
The Venite exultemus Domino elevation is more strenuous, and tauter in harmony. Its rising scale opening phrase expresses a more active yearning, compared with the relaxed emotion of the preceding works:
	IIJ J III-.	Ffli			rf9-
					
Ven - i - le   ex - ul   -   te - mus Do - mi - no
A more vigorous homophonic treatment is also given to the ecstatic exclamations in the phrase O immensus amor:
		i     |     4 1		-J-
O immensus	a      - -	mor 0 J	0 0	oete-
l*-=H—1	-0-> 3 3		J 1	~B-
171
Francois Couperin: The Work
The final 3 : 4 aria has some chains of suspended sevenths. This more powerful manner is developed further in the next elevation, Quid retribuam tibi Domine, which is also in E minor. Here even the bass line has considerable rhythmic animation. The counter-tenor's arioso line is ardendy lyrical, and the words' reference to the perils of material existence suggest some exciting roulades:
Later the words crudelis and salvasti produce a plaintive chromaticism and melisma:
129 J. Jy hJik				J' u	
et   crude  -  It de	mo -F=T=	ni-o	sal P3rf=	va	-      - Stl
6 \>r	4	-J	—— 6	4 2	
With the Audite otnnes, also for counter-tenor, we come to the only elevation which has a 'symphonie' of obbligato parts. The instrumental lines are in the main restricted to echo effects in dialogue with the voices. The final 3 : 2 aria uses sequential sevenths in a way that recalls the Ste Suzanne motet; but as a whole the work is not very interesting. This is the last of the pieces specifically called Elevation. The other motets in the collection are not substantially different in form, though they possibly cover a wider range of feeling. The first of them, Motet pour le Jour de Pdques, at once strikes a new note, being one of the most brilliant works Couperin ever wrote. Its florid theme is developed with Handelian exuberance, with many resonant thirds between the two voices. The Christo resurgente section is ripely harmonized, and has elaborate descriptive arabesques: 172
The Church Music
mm
in qua sur - re.
The change to a four pulse brings some powerful Handelian decorated suspensions to Alleluya. Throughout, the alterations in rhythm for the different sections build up a cumulative sense of climax. The concluding alleluyas in 6 : 4 are a paean of triumph, again with effective syncopated suspensions:
lu - ya Al _
Al - le - lu - ya
Al - le - lu - ya    Al - le -
6 7-6
al - le   -  lu - ya
f f f (T Uf
- lu - ya    al - le - lu
ya,     e/c. ' j -
7 6
83'
The lengthy Magnificat also has some rousing exultations in 6:4, and some typically sensuous seventh chords:
Francois Couperin: The Work
A brief passage marked Lentement, to the words Suspecit Israel puerum suum introduces one of Couperin's sudden shifts from major to minor, followed by dissolving sevenths; and an aria of glorification exploits a sprighdy rising scale figure. As a whole, however, the work lacks direction. Most unexpectedly, for a work of Couperin, it is rambling rather than economical.
The next two motets are also pedestrian. The triumphant flourishes of the St Barthelemy motet have little of Couperin's imprint; though a reference to the Cross leads to some lovely drooping dissonances:
ijp - tJ.			+
et	do	lo     -    rem in	IIj j ■ u - rit
1 A	3	*<-	4 6
and the victorious conclusion mterestingly reiterates its conventional penultimate suspended fourth. In the Motet de SteAnne the regularity of the rhythm is not used to any expressive purpose. The Memento O Christe section has, however, an agile arioso line, and there is some neat contrapuntal writing for the three soloists in the final setting of concedat nobis filius gratiam etgloriam.
After these two relatively dull works, we come to two which are, in different ways, among the finest. The O Domine quia refugium, for three basses and continuo, is a dark-coloured, majestic piece, though without, perhaps, the sinewy vigour of the E minor Quid Retribuam. The opening 3 : 2 grave is in C minor. A noble homophonic movement with modulation to the relative major and simple return to the tonic by way of G minor, it contains no surprises, but impresses as being the opening of a work of some grandeur and solemnity. The change to a four pulse brings a more contrapuntal treatment, and the words Dum turbabitur terra et transferentur montes in cor maris suggest a semiquaver melisma, and then a surging arpeggio figure which is echoed between the three voices, to the accompaniment of a sustained major triad: 174
The Church Music
SX i i ■—i-m—m—ff—f-			|r=]
el   irans - fer - en	air     mon -	tes       iii <	»r
i li—^ ff - ff |!—?-	J) J) y   m.....m.......		J)
SV ? ? Shg=*— ma		—1—	"s efc.
			
The Propterea in Deo laudabo shifts to the major and has an animated bass in quavers, reinforcing the soloists' laudatory flourishes. At first, the treatment is homophonic, interspersing a solo line with passages of three-part note for note writing. Later there is some close canonic imitation, and the parts demand an increasing virtuosity. The growth of contrapuntal elements and of lyrical decoration builds up an imposing climax, until the motet ends in a blaze of diatonic counterpoint to the words psalmos cantabimus.
The Motet de St Augustin is in A, and returns to the radiant manner of the tribute to Ste Suzanne. The opening phrase, with its tenderly resolving 6 : 4 chord, has a soft glow which, if most un-Augustinian, is quintessentially Couperin. The resolving 6 : 4 is later developed into this delicious lilting phrase, with the persistent A as pedal in the bass:
Glo -   ri - am ad
mag - nam De
glo
-a-
ri- am etc.
6 3 4
A fine passage of arioso in the minor has a highly decorated solo line,
175
Francois Couperin: The Work
with a flexibly melodic bass which occasionally introduces chromaticisms. The return to the major again brings one of Couperin's smiling diatonic phrases, imitatively treated:
To - to      re - so
rr
To- »
■ c?
re  -  so r nent in
or - be  To - to
r zi
re - so
9 5 7 6
The words coronattis immortali gloria are set to quiedy rising scale passages in imitation, combined with a sustained pedal E. The conclusion has some of Couperin's warm suspensions in dotted rhythm.
The Dialogus inter Deum et hominem is one of the most successful of the longer motets, and like the Versets of 1705 and 1706 offers some comparison with the technique of Bach. The opening aria is unpretentious, but the Accede jili mi adfontem section, which changes the tonality to the major, is conceived on a grand scale. Much use is made of sequential figures, and the counter-tenor's line has a baroque luxuriance. A passage of arioso is interesting both melodically and harmonically, and the next 3 :4 aria, in the minor, combines the grace of the air de com with a Bach-like closeness of texture. A rising scale figure in the continuo gives the air a sense of urgency which is counterbalanced by the fact that the scale passage is grouped in falling sequences:
ac   - ci-pe
lud
in    ho - lo
1- «1
6   6 '6
1.1 4 4 »3 3
in    ho - lo -	cau	stum
	\   J    J    J j	
»3
i76
The Church Music
The last section, Totum ardeat et consummaturfiamma, is a magnificent piece of baroque contrapuntal writing over a steady crochet beat. The melismata suggested by the word fiamma gather momentum, and linear arabesques combine with sustained minims to create processions of suspended sevenths:
None of Couperin's motets has a more organic sense of growth to an inevitable end.
With the three Lecons des Tenebres for one or two voices with organ and viol continuo we reach the highest point of Couperin's church music, and one of the peaks of his music as a whole. They were written between 1713 and 1715, possibly at the request of a convent. These are the works which justify the tentative comparison, made early in this chapter, between Couperin's achievement in church music and Racine's Athalie. While always preserving a civilized decorum, they attain to an intensity of passion which Couperin attempts but seldom. The Latin words of the prophet Jeremiah are interspersed with ritualistic Hebrew phrases which are used by M 177
Francois Couperin: The Work
Couperin as an excuse for vocalises of remarkable elaboration. Here the Italian aria technique is reinterpreted in terms of the French tradition; the port de voix, tremblement, portamento and other ornamental devices of the air de cour lose their fragility and enervating nostalgia, and are transformed into a line which reconciles subdety widi strength.
The opening of the first Lecon indicates admirably this breadth of line, and also shows how the ornamentation is both an expressive part of the line's contour, and a concomitant of the harmony:
		rr-v~		■f*-ř	
ft " ijity i f r r	In d	■ pit      la - a	ten	ta --1—	ti
		I-* J			
6 6
i
m
6 6
Jere
mi - ae Pro
pne - tae .
6 g 5
m
3_7
In the first arioso passage, the freedom of the lines creates supple key changes, for instance this transition to £ minor:
	+ ■ ■.  0m 00    m I		t ---It	
§ 11 h se- del TBt—t r	so - la   ci ■ vi	t rvfl tas      pie - na f   0 M	po   - pu-	lo?
l 7	J            6 6	«3 6	6 (}3 4	1=
178
The Church Music
The ornamentation of the air de tout is again in evidence, with great lyrical intensity. At the end of this section there is a beautiful instance of Couperin's progression to the flat seventh, followed by the rise to the sharp seventh to form the cadence. We are here in the re-created world of the organ masses.
The second section of vocalise is even more elaborate than the first. Long held suspensions are resolved ornamentally, and there is a subdc use of false relation in the cadence. The minor passage of arioso, Plorans ploravit in node, is one of the most extraordinary and poignant pieces in the whole of Couperin's work. The vocal line is an impassioned lament, in which dissonant ports de voix convey a heart-rending sorrow. Both the contour of the lines, and the harmonies, are of extreme boldness:
179
Francois Coupbrin: The Work
A little chromatically altered phrase for the word lachrymae, accompanied by suspended sevenths, is simpler, but hardly less moving.
The second passage of recitative-arioso, Migravit Jucta, is also powerful. Here the chromatically rising phrase, followed by a falling fifth, is particularly expressive; so is the characteristic cadence to the major.
Double appoggiaturas and diminished intervals are conspicuous in the F minor arioso, and the last passage of recitative introduces some painfully dissonant ports de voix and some chromatically ornamented resolutions in which the emotionalism is balanced by the grave arch of the line:
This 'weeping' chromatic resolution is then taken over by the continuo, becoming the main motive in the concluding aria. The swaying chromaticism imbues the line with a yearning quality, comparable with that of the earlier Elevations. Here, however, the lilting line is never limp, but has great nervous vitality. And this vitality is enhanced by the supple interplay between the voice and the viol of the continuo: 180
The Church Music
#3 i # l>3 1,3
As a whole, the work seems to me one of the most impressive examples of linear organization and harmonic resource in late baroque music.
The second Lecon is also for one high voice, with organ and viol continuo. Again it opens with a rhapsodic vocalise in D major. The first recitative has drooping suspended sevenths; the second vocalise, in triple time, flows mainly in conjunct motion with air de com ornamentation. Acute double suspensions and chromatic progressions in the bass occur in the second arioso, in the relative minor. Again the ornamentation of the vocal line increases the dissonance, while the balance of the phrases guards against any emotional instability—note the mingling of conjunct motion with figures built from the minor triad:
	9    v rj	|-  j J	-&-. fB
§" r r Re - cor -	--H1— da   - u est	Re   cor -	da      -     - la
		«5 6 7	7 & 5 #3 2
181
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
	i—^--P & '—i	i—e-r—i
est           Je - ru - ss	. lern     Re . cor ""ft*--	da      -     ta etc.
	6 -	7 6 * 4 3
The subsiding chromaticisms of the conclusion|have a Purcellian pathos, though the air as a whole is more classically 'objective'.
The next two passages of vocalise are nobly diatonic, with suspensions in the continuo. Some effective portamento falling sevenths arc grouped in sequence, in the Peccatum peccavit arioso. A change to the minor occurs for the Sordes ejus in pedibus ejus, a section having considerable dramatic power, with tritones prominent in the vocal line, and harsh dissonances in the continuo:
	+			__-
de-	po - si - ta i -e-	:st    ve - he	- men - ter non	ha     - bens
				
6 6	b3 4	6                 7 6 # 4	
4 5 a 3 fi_               ,.-t/..-|>^-^--------............		3 i j.'„h j. JHi	
3» r 7 7 r :	r J '< J		
non  ha .	- bens	con - so -   U -J>J-=-d-J	to
«3
7
4 l>6
1.7 1.3
The work concludes with an extremely beautiful aria, also in the minor, Jerusalem convertere ad Dominum. It is built on a simple phrase 182
The Church Music
rising up a fifth, and then serenely falling. Ports de voix are again used to give harmonic intensity and at the same time to smooth off the contour of the line. The final statement of the theme is in an ornamented version, accompanied by canonic entries in the con-tinuo. The subtlety and sensitivity of the ornamentation never destroys the music's architectural quality, while the noble architecture gives power to the sensitivity:
	■ /^T&77pP O-—rf~.—.	•f	
g ™ P ad Dom- i -I ■	num          De   - urn	tu	urn .?5J^-
=#==		'p	
If the third Lecon impresses one as being the greatest, it is largely because, being conceived for two soloists instead of one, it offers opportunities for a combination of the vocalise technique with polyphony. The opening vocalise uses the familiar soaring line in effective dissonant suspension, after the manner of the two-violin sonata. Here the winged, disembodied lines, moving mainly by conjunct motion, are vocal in conception, while the terseness of the dissonances is instrumental; this is the representative compromise between religious and'secular technique:
183
Francois Couperin: The Work
	—-#-p—	[--1
ft " ' L[= Jod- ■ffc-o?-		x ri j—:—
\i"		p * -i *-
■Mn r r r <•	'r r p r	r f iip r =[
	6 5	6 6 * sr
etc.
The vocalise is repeated in artfully varied forms between each arioso section.
The first arioso incorporates Couperin's favourite modulation to the minor of the dominant; the second begins with a strange chromatic deliquescence:
The chromaticism is, however, defeated by the trumpet-like call of the voices in dialogue on the words Vide Dotnine; and the duo flows without break into a supple ornamented version of the vocalise in canon.
The O vos omnes section of recitative also balances a speech-like freedom of line and acute dissonances in die continuo, against trumpet-like phrases in rising fourths and sixths on the word 184
0463
The Church Music
Attettdite. The tonal transitions still have a seventeenth-century plasticity:
		m		g	9'			*—j		
si - cut			do  - lor a			h	si - cut   do - lor			me     - --fí-1-
«3
At - ten
di - te
«3 ' The pace quickens on the words Quoniam vindemiavit me, and the voices proceed note for note until, with the words iraefuroris sui, a climax is reached on a diminished seventh chord18 The section concludes with a beautiful version of the vocalise, even freer in rhythm and longer in melodic span:
to
[ISS Uli
18 Such a use of the dramatic diminished seventh is not common in Couperin's work. The French were inclined to regard the chord with suspicion as being essentially Italian.
I85
Francois Couperin: The Work
The next section of recitative is notable for its dramatic falling sixth and dissonant appoggiaturas on the words posuit me desolatam:
de - so
- la - lam. po - su - it
me     de  - so
-.   U  - lam
m
* 8 »5 7 2
and the following vocalise has one of Couperin's pathetic false relations:
elc.
«6
\>1
An arioso on Vigilavit jugum leads to another homophonic section in quicker movement; this has a delicate grace which reminds one, even in this spiritual work, of Couperin's relation to the brunete tradition:
■ 0«.. J J)^J.				
				
de q	nanon po -ft.		tero 'W	sur   - gere. r I J ,
	—---			~......— —    . i ■-
The work ends with a full-scale statement of the vocalise, developed canonically, but now adapted to the Latin text of the 186
The Church Music
Jerusalem converters Over a level crochet movement, the aria evolves with conventional architectural modulations to the dominant and sub-dominant. The contrapuntal writing is of great purity, and uses a phrase—a rising fourth followed by a descending scale—which had been common property among the sixteenth-century polyphonists. This clear counterpoint, mated with this equally lucid tonal architecture, shows us that in his last and greatest church work Couperin is still, like Bach, poised between two worlds, and making the best of them both.
187
Chapter Nine
The Clavecin Works
In tudor England, the relation between the secular and ecclesiastical keyboard schools was always intimate, and Bull and Gibbons are equally remarkable as composers of polyphonic organ fantasias and as composers of virginal pieces which, however complex they may become, at least start from secular song and dance. This close connection between the religious and the secular was one of the secrets of the extraordinary richness of English music at the turn of the century; and we have already seen that something rather similar was true of contemporary French musical culture. But whereas the French were aware of the implications of the 'modern' elements in musical style, and were prepared to sacrifice the old to the new, the English accepted the old and the new on equal terms. They were hardly aware, perhaps, that they had to make a choice; and their relative lack of self-consciousness is their strength. But it also means that their keyboard music—which is of a variety and subdety not exceeded by any period of European history, and certainly not by the contemporary French schools—is an end as much as a beginning. Byrd, Gibbons, Farnaby, and Bull were not followed by a 'classical' keyboard composer, as Titelouze was followed by Chambonnieres, and Chambonnieres by Couperin. Between sixteenth-century polyphony and the classical age, there was a break in England's cultural continuity; and this break has, of course, social and economic causes which are summed up in the phenomenon of the Civil War. In French culture there is no such break in continuity. For the claveci-nists the connecting link between sixteenth-century polyphony and the classical age is the work of the lutenist composers.
All through the sixteenth century, in France as in England, the lute had been a musical maid-of-all-work analogous to the modern piano. It had been used as a makeshift, for playing polyphonic vocal music in transcriptions that were literal apart from slight modifica-188
The Clavecin Works
tions and decorations suggested by the nature of the instrument; it had been used for playing homophonic dance music—pavanes, galliards, branles and so on—usually as an accompaniment to the dancing. In this way, it was in close touch with both the social and religious aspects of sixteenth-century music, and beyond them with many of the traditions of folk art; so that when the lute composers began to grow into an independent school, they had behind them a consciousness of many centuries of French musical history—religious polyphony, secular harmonized chansons, court dances, and the dances of the people.
It was in the early years of the seventeenth century that a personal, expressive element became noticeable within music that had previously been of an 'occasional' order. In the dances of a man such as Antoine Francisque, a vein of sophisticated sensuousness appeared parallel to the growth ofprécieux elements in the verse of a St Amant or Théophile. The influence of the passionate Spanish vihuela music of Luis Milan may have encouraged this development of an expressive, rather than a purely functional, dance music. Certainly the connections between French and English culture were a contributory factor, for Dowland himself had a brilliant continental reputation, and at one time stayed at the court of Henri IV; while it was common for French musicians to visit England, some of them, such as Jacques Gaultier the elder, for considerable periods. Possibly the dolorous nature of Dowland's temperament encouraged a comparable gloom on the part of the French composers; possibly an elegiac quality native to the Frenchmen was reinforced by the development of the lute with eleven strings instead of the traditional nine, for the additional strings gave increased opportunity for a grave solemnity of harmony and for richness of part-writing. In any case, outside influences and material circumstances did no more than intensify a development which was native to French culture.
The English lutenists were highly developed art composers who were still related to a folk culture; there was with them no sharp division between esoteric and popular elements. The French lutenists, on the other hand, soon began to lose contact with their popular origins, becoming an autonomous school associated with theprécieux movement in society. In the first generation of lute composers—the adventurous Bocquet, the virtuoso Vincent, the fragrant Mézangeau,
189
Francois Coupehin: The Work
Jacques and Ennemond Gaultier, Etienne Richard and Germain Pinel—there was something of the freshness and spontaneity of the English composers, if not their comprehensive power. But the second generation of lutenists—the great Denis Gaultier, Jacques Gallot, and Charles Mouton—were artists of high sophistication, the leading musical representatives of the ruelles and salons. Like the air de cour writers and the other mid-century exponents of preciosita, they strove, in their ornamentation, their stylized refinement, even their methods of fingering their instrument, to become a musical Elect, preserving their music from popular contagion. They even invented a semi-private language for the fanciful and crypto-grammatic titles of their pieces; the tradition survives in Couperin s work. At the same time, the stylization did not imply any emotional frigidity. The pictures in the beautiful contemporary edition of Denis Gaultier's La Rhétoriqtte des Dieux, that describe the relation of the various modes (the sixteenth-century terminology is somewhat incongruously adhered to) to different passions, are a further indication of the interest in subtle states of feeling which this society cultivated. Charmé even added quasi-psychological descriptive comments to some of Gaultier's pieces.
There is nothing in the lute music of this hyper-civilized society as passionately lugubrious as the wonderful chromatic fancies of Dow-land; but the tone of the pieces, though always restrained, is elegiac, tenderly melancholy or dreamily noble, comparable with that of the airs de cour, only less enervating. Passages of ripe chromatic harmony such as this:
190
The Clavecin Works
are fairly frequent in the work of Mouton, while the dissonant suspensions, sequential sevenths, and false relations of this passage are typical of the work of Jacques Gallot:
This composer is also enterprising in the matter of tonality, having some powerfully gloomy pieces in F sharp minor, a key known to the lutenists as 'le ton de la chevre'. The pieces of the greatest of the lutenists, Denis Gaultier, show a similar union of a polyphonic inheritance with an interest in the sensuous implications of harmony; but it is significant that it is he who most puts the stress on the moulding of his line and the balance of his clauses. The lovely Tom-beau or funeral oration for the uncle of the famous Ninon de l'Enclos illustrates this clearly; note how the soprano line leads up—intensified by the chromatic progression of the bass—to the climax of a modulation into E minor, only to resolve into a cadence in C:
191
§|Jfl3|t Francois Couperin: The Work
from which point the lines and harmonies subside to their source. All Gaultier's pieces have this instinct for dignity and proportion. Not only the grand tombeaux and sarabandes, but also the subtle-rhythmed courantes, are pervasively melancholy. Even the canaris, gigues, and galliards are more wistfully fanciful than joyous.
But Gaultier's expression of the aristocratic values of his community is revealed most remarkably in the cantabile character of his line. His rhythms have not the rather insensitive symmetry of some eighteenth-century music; but he does sometimes achieve a measured gravity of line, involving clearly defined modulation, which almost suggests Italian bel canto, or a fresher, more delicate Handel:
mmm			±-	-A—-	r	
^ r ri = Ljp-li ^___________			r		L«—	
		J r		,J HE—=-1		«/c.
That is one aspect of Gaultier, which we shall see echoed in Cham-bonnieres, and later in Couperin himself. A more adequate notion of 192
The Clavecin Works
his genius will be given if we quote, before leaving him, the end of the Tombeau which he wrote for himself:
if r f r
4^4
Here we may call attention to the noble span of the line; the caressing suspensions; the occasional tense diminished interval; the resonant spacing of the parts, derived from lute technique; and the sombre repetition of the Bs, and of the grave minor triad, in the last bar.
The most distinctive feature of lute technique—clearly revealed in most of the foregoing examples—is what one might call simulated polyphony. The broken arpeggio technique is used to create an illusion of part-writing which both preserves the sense of movement in the composition (despite the short sustaining power of the instrument), and at the same time establishes a solid harmony. The skill called for in interpreting the polyphony latent in die lute tablature was what principally gave its highly virtuoso character to lute technique. Only very sensitive and resourcefid players were capable of an adequate 'realization'.
Further evidence of this virtuosity both of technique and feeling is found in the ornamentation which was often not indicated in the N 193
Francois Couperin: The Wore
text. This ornamentation was adapted to the lute from the embellishments of the air de cow, andjehann Basset's L'art de toucher le luth of 1636 indicates that in employing ornaments the lutenists were inspired by similar motives as were the composers of airs de cour; 'de la vient que le jeu de nos devanciers n'avoit point les mignardises et les gentillesses qui embellissent le nostre par tant de diversitez'. The ornaments, which were an integral part of both line and harmony, included all kinds of slide or portamento effects, the sudden damping of strings, the ver casse or vibrato, and various kinds of tremhlement— for instance a rapid tremolo on a single string or an alternation of two notes coupled with a sighing diminuendo. The intimacy and subtlety of these ornaments came from the direct contact between the string and the human agency of the finger; Segovia gives an idea of this, on the more emotional guitar, in his recording of a most beautiful dance suite of the German lutenist and contemporary of Bach, S. L. Weiss. Couperin's attempt to obtain expression in keyboard music was largely a search for a substitute for this intimate relationship between the finger and the sounding medium. The esoteric culture of the court of Charles I perhaps suggests that the English lutenists might have developed in a similar, more stylized and formal manner had not the tradition been interrupted by the Civil War.
Of the forms which the French lutenists adopted, the prelude was closest to the improvisatory style of the lute air. Written in unmeasured notation, to be interpreted by the performer, it was a more organized development of the prehminary flourishes in arpeggios and other obvious instrumental techniques which the player might improvise to a song. In a more measured form, the technique survives in both Louis and Francois Couperin, particularly in the pieces explicitly called Prelude, and in the most famous of all examples, the first prelude of Bach's Forty-Eight. The dances themselves, pavane (and later allemande), courante, sarabande, and gigue, preserve the features of the ballet dances, but, as with the bigger galliards and pavanes of the Tudor virginalists, the original character of the dance may sometimes be submerged in the melodic and figurative developments. This is not often the case, however, with the slighter dances, such as bourrees, canaris, and branles.
All these forms, and many of the techniques implicit in the nature 194
The Clavecin Wokks
of the lute, were taken over by the first composers for clavecin, who often wrote in a more or less identical manner for the lute or keyboard instrument. To them the clavecin was a kind of mechanized lute, and spread chord formations, plucked string effects, and overlapping canonic entries were all elements of lute technique which survived, or were modified, in the technique of the keyboard instrument; indeed simulated polyphony survived even though a naturally polyphonic instrument made deceit unnecessary. Almost from the start, however, the clavecinists strove to develop the formal aspects of the convention—as hinted at by Denis Gaultier—at the expense of the improvisatory elements. They belonged more to the new age of the mid-baroque. Possibly the best way to demonstrate this is by way of a comparison between the work of Chambonneres and that of his pupil, Louis Couperin.
Like Gaultier, Chambonnieres was a product of precieux society, a leading musical representative of the Hotel de Rambouillet, and later court clavecinist to Louis XIV. In most ways it is legitimate to regard his work as an extension of that of the lutenists, who were emulated as much for social as for musical reasons, the lute being the traditional instrument of nobility. His finest pieces derive from the polyphonic elements of the lute idiom. The three big G minor pavanes, with their contrapuntal entries, false relations, and rhythmic flexibility, can even be connected with the more massive polyphony of the religious choral and organ schools:
19 l> j- JJJJ.^	[j. J 1	T-4h—p-t—|-
tt   ,     J  .1 o-	rr rf-f	
'-^ "—fa-	---1	TX
—i i ~	j r r"r t	-TfflFfLJT-	flrr, ^ elc-T--V
			
Francois Couperin: The Work
We can here see Chambonnieres exploiting the traditions of the sixteenth century, together with luxuriant ornamentation, and with a richness of harmony encouraged by the spacing of the lute parts. The warm sound of the tenth and of the dominant seventh is especially attractive to him: he will dwell on the chords, revelling in their sensuous appeal:
r~rrrfr
J     j      j    j j
T
r
44	mm j____j	
		
These pieces, like the lute totnbeaux, often attain a surprising grandeur and power.
Then there is a range of pieces analogous to the delicately proportioned sarabande of Gaultier which we have already quoted. Within their sophisticated symmetry, these pieces have a conscious naivete which seems to entail a civilized reincarnation of the fragrance of French folk song; or we may relate it perhaps to French art song in the Middle Ages, to the troubadours' mating of innocence with sophistication. At the same time, the suave progression of the harmonies, with the sonorous spacing and fragile ornamentation, are the product of a courdy society: 196
The Clavecin Works
1* j. 1		,7.   r j |		
g J		r 1 r -J ^J	» at »■	
r*-—-\i» j. ji? i	1*"-	i ; j. ni	rr^-1	
	f-	==MJ=	= f= e/c.	
We have ahready observed a development of this manner in some of Couperin's work, other than his keyboard music. In the following passage, the effect of the rising sharp seventh, succeeded by the flat seventh in the descent, is particularly reminiscent of the Couperin of the organ Messe des Convents:
			1 j. J)J 1
* i' J f	- It j	* r	r r
1 f 11 v r	'[" j  j, hi	'r   r i ui—h-r-	r" r 1
(i'1 r Y r =		4 41. i	a.. *•
^-^—el i ^	^---		r
An even subtler case is this little sarabande in F, which combines its diatonically innocent air with inner parts in which ornamentally
197
Franqois Couperin: The Work
resolved suspensions create tender augmented and diminished intervals and other dissonances at the points marked; note also, in the first section, the slightly disturbing effect of the modulation to D minor, before the conventional resolution in the dominant:
'ilu J y i	i—p»—i		|    |      J)j |	-W—j-,
	if r7'		J-(?' '	
	f M	•r'		
ft Jr ?r [*> b j j	r .	r r	= 8 [ = =T=^	- P-
	L^s-	—	I.     1J	i LfJ Nil
r rr ^ *>b r r e	?=4	2>	• r	l-Hf ■*v etc.
A further anticipation of Couperin's early work is found in the warm, quietly flowing gigue in G (No. 55 in the Senart edition).
Some of Chambonnieres's quick pieces, such as the delightful Gigue bruscambille—built on an irregular rising scale passage in imitation—are also successful; and a few pieces, such as the B flat galliard with its double in clattering semiquavers, have an unexpectedly manly vigour. In general, however, his best movements are those which are in direct contact with the polyphonists, or with the luten-ists, or with both. They tend, like Gaultier's work, to the elegiac and contemplative, without reaching, perhaps, the sombre refinement of 198
The Clavecin Wokks
Gaultier's best music. When Chambonniéres attempts to build his pieces not on latently polyphonic principles, nor on the simple dominant-tonic basis of the G major sarabande, but on a more developed scheme of tonal relationships, the result is not very convincing. The larger allemandes, though interesting for their flexible part-writing, have not the balance between polyphonic vitality and harmonic architecture which marks the mature allemandes of Couperin and Bach. From this point of view, this normally impeccable artist suggests a development which he did not live to fulfil. The rather gauche allemande, La Loureuse, may be referred to as an illustration.
Comparatively, Chambonniéres's pupil, Louis Couperin, is a much more vigorous personality: the Abbé Le Gaulois said that his playing was 'estimé par les personnes scavantes a cause quelle est pleine d'accords et enrichie de belles dissonances, de dessins ct d'imitations'. His pieces show a sturdy contrapuntal technique and an aggressive use of dissonance alien to the refined discretion of his master— witness this opening of a D minor sarabande:
More interesting, however, is the increasingly mature command of tonal organization which he manifests. He writes grandly expressive sarabandes which, even more than the 'exquisite' sarabandes of Chambonnieres, provide some anticipation of Handel; and his control of incidental modulation, within the tonic-dominant-tonic or minor-relative major-minor framework, gives no impression of the tentative or experimental. The E minor sarabande, No. 65 in the Lyrebird edition, is an imposing example, and we may mention the very Handelian D major (No. 60), and the canonic sarabande in D minor (No. 47). The polyphonic-homophonic compromise suggested by this last-mentioned sarabande is especially impressive, since
199
Francois Couperin: The Work
the canonic entry starts on the last beat of the sarabande rhythm, so that the counterpoint consistendy negates the bar measure. The most significant of the allemandes also preserve the linear independence of Chambonnieres and the lutenists while achieving a satisfying tonal order; in this respect they anticipate the finest allemandes of Bach and Couperin le Grand. We may instance the slow rhapsodic alle-mande in D No. 58, the E minor No. 61, and the gende G major No. 82, which recalls the silvery sound of the baroque organ.
Even the pieces of Louis Couperin which incline to the old polyphonic methods show this more vigorously organized quality. The famous Tombeau de M. de Blancrocher is in the tradition of the res-plendently decorated tombeaux of the lutenists, but it intensifies the conventional improvisatory effects and dissonances to a pitch of dramatic passion that is almost operatic; consider the odd grinding noise of the unresolved sevenths at the end of this passage:
A comparable piece is the big pavane in F sharp minor—a key which crops up intermittendy in the clavecin music, being a survival from the lutenists' ton de la chevre. This pavane is again founded on lute technique; its chromatic alterations give it a remarkable pathos. The classical stability of its proportions, together with the sensuous, melodically derived augmented intervals of the incidental har-200
The Clavecin Works
monies, might even be compared with the elegiac late nocturnes of Faure:
f
i
r r
=4
4
e/c.
Another piece looking back to the false relations and polyphony of the lutenists is the G minor allemande, No. 92:
I]',1	1^ i/JLf^J
4 i)	
J
5t
1
ill
-J j]j ^
e/e.
201
Francois Coupbrin: The Work
Less successful is the curious G minor fantasia which begins contra-puntally in the manner of the organ fancy, and then develops by widely skipping arpeggio figurations, without any attempt to return to the fugal principles of the opening. The new age of the dance and the theatre has here routed the old world of the church. In this case one feels that there is no organic growth from the one to the other.
This is probably an organ piece, related to the work of a man such as Nicolas le Begue. The lively sense of the keyboard which it displays is more convincingly demonstrated in the Duo, perhaps the finest of Louis Couperin's more animated movements, notable for the variety of its linear patterns, and for the surprising richness and piquancy of the harmony produced by the movement of the two parts:
		r—			
K r  "p r	=i			»	---------1
etc
But the most impressive of Louis Couperin's pieces, as well as the most 'modern' in effect, are those using the transitional technique of chaconne or passacaglia, which we have already discussed with reference to Lully. Louis Couperin's chaconnes proceed with relentless power, and are usually dark in colour and dissonant in texture; consider the spiky clash in the first bar of No. 55:
M
A.
A 1
me
J>A
m
T
202
Thb Clavecin Works
Here again Couperin introduces a bold modification in the chaconne-rondeau technique, since he occasionally allows the modulations of the couplets to be continued into the repetitions of the theme, thereby making a compromise between the traditional static technique and the new sense of tonal relationship. The G minor chaconne, No. 122, is also remarkable for its dramatic use of diminished seventh chords.
Among the Passacailles, the G minor No. 95 is characterized by a rhythmic freedom in line and ornamentation which reminds one of operatic recitative. This is a fine piece, but still finer are Louis Couperin's two masterpieces, the C major passacaille No. 27, and the passacaille in G minor and major, No. 99. The C major is a gravely massive piece which uses ornamentation, dotted rhythms, and scale passages to build up a cumulative power almost comparable with the chaconne of Couperin le Grand's C minor violin suite, or with the grand choral chaconnes in Lully's last operas. It ends in evocative solemnity with a repetition of the grand couplet in the minor instead of the major, a reversal of the normal procedure such as one occasionally finds in Purcell. The great G minor passacaille No. 99 is Louis Couperin's biggest piece in every sense. It is built over a falling scale bass, and employs every device afterwards used by Couperin le Grand to build up an overwhelming climax—dissonant suspensions, more animated movement, flowing scale passages in parallel and contrary motion. There is a wonderful modulation into the major, incorporating richly spaced suspensions, and a chromatically modified version of the bass which is balanced by soaring diatonic scale figures:
	EI	rrr	
r	r	r	
r
etc.
203
Francois Couperin: The Work
The final couplet keeps the chromatic bass but returns sombrely to the minor.
Two other pupils of Chambonnieres should be mentioned among Couperin's predecessors—Jean Henri d'Anglebert and Gaspard lc Roux. D'Anglebert represents perhaps the culmination of the mid-baroque period that preceded Couperin le Grand. He transfers to the clavecin idiom much of the contrapuntal power and harmonic luxuriance which we observed in his organ fugues, a quotation from which was given in chapter five. His clavecin work has a remarkable grandeur, whether it be in a brilliantly expansive piece such as the long variations on La Folia, a grave, austerely wrought movement such as the G minor allemande, or a spaciously serene piece such as the D major chaconne, which has a Claude-like quietude fully worthy of comparison with the rondeau from the Imperiale suite of Francois Couperin himself.
Le Roux's Pieces pour Clavecin, although not published till 1705, were written considerably earlier. With d'Anglebert he is the last representative of the grand goAt of the mid-century, and his music has-much of the valedictory nobility of Denis Gaultier. But if he is less of a modernist than Louis Couperin, he is a more mature and developed artist than Chambonnieres; his work is remarkable for the lyrical contour of its melody, and for the richness of its balanced sequential writing, as we may see from this passage from a courante:
5§
r
m
m
204
-1-
TTT
The Clavecin Works
f^U M..|.^ »-1      j, ■—-j.     t i J = r     ' r r r     r f"
We may mention also, from the Amsterdam edition of 1706, the beautiful suite in F sharp minor, which may be compared with Louis Couperin's movements in the same ton de la chevre; the D minor chaconne which deserves to keep company with the grandest pieces in this contemporary form; and the long sarabandc with variations in G minor. This last sarabande is really an elaborate chaconne, and although less remarkable musically than the other pieces mentioned is interesting for its unexpectedly progressive treatment of keyboard technique. Its use of arpeggio and scale figurations almost suggests the Handel of the harpsichord passacag-lias. An appendix to the Amsterdam volume includes a second clavecin part for five of the pieces. Both this fact and the quality of the music argue strongly in favour of a modern edition; the pieces would make a fascinating contribution to two-piano literature.
When Couperin le Grand started to write clavecin music he had the music of Chambonnieres, Louis Couperin, d'Anglebert, and le Roux to work from. Behind them was the school of lutenist composers; and behind them in turn were, as we have seen, generations of French musical tradition, from folk song and troubadours, to the polyphony and harmonized dance music of the sixteenth century. Interacting with these traditional French elements were Italian influences: the implicit presence of the operatic aria and occasionally of the dramatic harmonic formulae with which the continuo accompanies recitative; the influence of Italian dance music and the popular culture of the commedia dell'Arte, linking up with the French popular culture; and the influence of Corelli and his conception of the tonal formalization of dance movements. In the work of all Chambonnieres's successors, one can observe these French and Italian elements slowly merging into one another, whether it be at the level of the finest work of Louis Couperin or of d'Anglebert or
20s
Francois Couperin: The Work
at the level of the unpretentious dances of Nicolas le Begue. The fusion is consummated in the clavecin music, as in the concerted music, of Couperin le Grand. In the first book of his clavecin pieces we are most conscious of the constituent materials, French and Italian, as such; in the fourth they are so completely assimilated into an idiom of classical maturity that we are conscious of the perfect proportions of the whole building, rather than of the richness of detail that goes to make it up.
Some dance movements of the lute suite Couperin takes over as they stand, though he presents them in a more lucidly diatonic form. The gigue and sarabande survive in their Italianized version; the pavane is replaced by the allemande, as it was tending to be in the work of Chambonnieres and Louis Couperin. These dance rhythms are all absorbed into the binary principles of the baroque sonata, with first section ending in the dominant or relative major, the complementary second section returning to the tonic (the dances and their structure will be discussed in detail in the next chapter). All the pieces which are not basically dance movements of this type are rondeaux or chaconne-rondeaux—an extension of the old technique of dance tune with couplets, whereby the symmetrical theme is stated, followed by a short episode of allied but distinct material possibly involving a simple modulation, followed by a restatement of the tune in its original form always without modulation, followed by another episode, and so on, ad libitum. Both techniques were, as we have seen, in the first place functional, arising out of the practical exigencies of the dance; and both, especially the rondeau, may seem to be extremely limited. But Couperin le Grand—like Bach and Scarlatti, <and like Louis Couperin before him—shows how the limitation may be used to convey an intensity of experience such as can be achieved only in the full maturity of a civilization. We may compare Corneille's, Racine's and Pope's use of the alexandrine and heroic couplet.
Although the plan of Couperin's movements is harmonically dictated he still, like Bach and Scarlatti, occupies a transitional position between polyphony and homophony, in so far as his music normally entails a dialogue between melody and bass; the latter nearly always has melodic significance. Implied polyphony exists alongside the ripest development of tonal harmony; the lucid har-206
The Clavecin Works
monk scheme both moulds, and is moulded by, the dialogue of the parts. Like Bach, Couperin borrows vitality and subdcty from the polyphonic tradition, and from the homophonic a classical objectivity. Not only the violin sonata which we have already discussed, but also the gigue of the keyboard suite had long manifested this harmonic-contrapuntal fusion, since its clear harmonic basis was combined with fugal treatment 'inverted' in the second half of the structure, the inversion of the themes corresponding with the inversion of the sequence of keys. But the melodic-harmonic fusion is much subder than this in Bach's and Couperin's conception of keyboard technique, reaching its most profound expression in their more baroque movements (such as the allemandes of Bach's E minor and D major partitas, or a piece of Couperin such as Les Longueurs Tendres). Here the symmetrical harmonic periods are no more than implicit beneath the continuous, unmetrical flow of ornamental lyricism. This is the consummation of a technique which we have already observed in a tentative form in some movements of the organ masses.
Couperin's first book of clavecin pieces was published in 1713, though many of the pieces had been written much earlier. If the 'Bachian fusion* is least evident in this volume, one can perhaps find here the various types of piece which Couperin is subsequendy to develop, in their most accessible form. Firsdy there are, particularly in the second ordre, a number of simple undeveloped dances, more or less the same as those which were actually danced to in the ballets. These are often clurming and are interesting as one of the roots from which Couperin's art grew, but are not otherwise remarkable. Secondly there are, closely related to these dances, slighdy more sophisticated dance pieces in which the influence of Corelli's tonal plan is more perceptible; La Milordine, La Pateline, and La Florentine are obvious examples. These are straightforward movements in Italian binary style, though with a gallic delicacy in the texture. Then, thirdly, there is a class of pastoral pieces which are ostensibly French in manner, related to the brunette tradition and the ballet. Some of these are diarrningly personal in flavour; the idiom of a piece such as La Fleurie ou la Tendre Nanette, though more harmonic, resembles the chansons of a Guillaume de Costeley in its combination of sophisticated ornament with a melodic and harmonic
207
Francois Coupbrin: The Work
naivete which has the spiritual innocence of folk song. Others (La Tendre Fanchon, La Bandoline, La Flore) link this innocence of melody with a technique of figurative sequences built on seventh chords, thereby creating a delicate voluptuousness which we have seen to be one of the most typical features of Couperin's sensibility:
This is the kind of technique, reconciling a mannered 'social' artifi- !
ciality with a latently personal emotion, in which it is possible to 1
trace some analogy with the painting of Watteau. Beneath the |
apparently passive acceptance of the courtly convention there is an I
intense apprehension of the loneliness of the individual consciousness. I
A somewhat different aspect of the Watteau-like manner is shown |
in the fourth group of pieces—those exploiting the arpeggio figura- J
tions of lute technique. Les Idees Heureuses has a tranquil flow of |
arpeggio figuration which, by means of tied notes and suspensions, 1
creates a quasi-polyphonic effect. Both the melodic interest and the j
harmonic subtlety of the piece profit from this treatment. The \
movement also includes a touching passage built over a descending |
chromatic bass in a manner much favoured later by Couperin him- J
self, and by Bach. La Gamier is another beautiful piece in the lute j
tradition, exploiting the resonance of the clavecin's overtones in a '
208 '
The Clavecin Works
way that might almost be called impressionistic. This too is a style that Couperin develops in later work.
The fifth group of pieces comprises those influenced by the more powerful aspects of lute technique—bigger movements in the tradition of the tombeau. The finest examples are the allcmande and sara-bande, L'Auguste and La Majcstueuse in the G minor ordre, and the comparable movements, La Tenebreuse and La Lugubre, from the ordre in C minor. These are magnificent pieces, using massed broken chords, passionate ornamentation, lute-like percussive effects and harmonic acridities, and revealing a closeness of texture which rivals the graver suite movements of Bach. Such a passage as this from La Tenebreuse, almost as much as the larger contrapuntal movements in the late violin sonatas, at once reveals the absurdity of the account of Couperin—at one time current—as a hot-house composer:
	1—^—f ^—f—?—f—1
(r i - 1	■»   i.   i   i L
[tJ; | Mi«j*	r r hf r r r fffffff",
	_4___--_--1............- etc. jti fr* jit j,t it )>t }\
	r r f f r r f
o	209
Francois Couperin: The Work
The courantes, too, have a rhythmic and contrapuntal virility that makes them more comparable with Bach than with any other exponent of the late baroque.
The last group of pieces includes the most mature movements in the first volume—those which already illustrate what we have called the Bachian compromise. The allemande La Logiviere is a splendid example, reconciling its architectural structure and latent dance rhythm with a continuous stream of baroque melody, powerful dissonances in the inner parts, and some characteristically 'impressionistic' drone effects. La Laborieuse is a similar piece, with strange, melodically derived modulations; and another remarkable movement is Les Regrets, in which the pathos is attained by means of suspensions continuously hovering over a bass which proceeds with measured gravity. But the finest piece in the book is the C minor chaconne La Favorite, which defies precedent by being in duple time instead of triple.19 This is a work which, even by Bach's standard, one may call great. There is nothing outside Bach which has such massive dignity of workmanship, and yet it is quite unlike Bach, and could have been written by no one but Couperin. This piece demonstrates superbly how Couperin's technique depends on a dialogue between soprano melody and bass, for the bass line is throughout of a wonderfully cantabile character, always balancing the sombre articulation of the main melody:
m
4
H en r
r cr t r
r r r
etc
r
19 'Autrefois, il y avait des chaconnes a deux terns et a trois; niais on n'en fait plus qu'i trois.' (Rousseau's Dictionnairc.) 210
The Ciavecin Works
With the B minor Passacaille, the piece is also perhaps the most impressive instance of Couperin's ability to extort a monumental power from the very rigidity of the chaconne-rondeau convention. Its disdplining of intense passion is again both a personal achievement and an achievement of civilization.
From the second volume onwards, each ordre begins to acquire a definite character of its own. Since we have now dealt in general terms with the main classes into which Couperin's pieces fall, it will be simplest if henceforward we deal with each ordre as we come to it in sequence. The second volume appeared in 1716-1717, and the first ordre in it (the sixth of the whole series) is tender and delicate in mood. It contains one of Couperin's most beautiful works from the linear point of view—Les Langueurs Tendres, a piece we have already mentioned as an example of the reconciling of a highly ornamented, rhythmically fluid line with a latendy regular pulse and harmonic development. The ornamentation, inherited from the air de cour, smooths all angles off the line, gives it a caressing flexibility which suggests some kinship with the ordered plasticity of Racine's rhythm. Here the ornamentation is not, like much of Handel's ornamentation, something applied to a symmetrical harmonically conceived melody, but a part of the melodic contour, a means of achieving nuance and gradation:
1 i + »mt/H i^g
«1» ***
While the method is the same as that of Bach in, say, the theme and some of the slow movements of the Goldberg variations, Couperin's flavour, his radiance, is unique. It may be pardy attributable to the covert relation of his line to the French language, which certainly influenced the line of the air de cour. Such a relationship need not manifest itself as patendy as in the case of Lully's recitative.
A simpler, more homophonic piece in the same mood is Les Bergeries. This is melodically of great distinction, wistfully sophisticated like Watteau and yet not altogether remote from French folksong. The second couplet of the rondeau makes an impressionistic
211
Francois Coupbrin: The Work use of the bagpipe drone effect, an evocative, summer-like noise on the harpsichord, which cannot be translated into pianistic terms:
Nothing could more effectively illustrate how Couperin's melodic grace and economy of texture can invest the stock ingredients of the brunette tradition with a personal and subtle poetry. This ordre also includes another evocation of the countryside, the gay rondeau Les Moissonneurs; a very famous piece in lute figuration, with chains of resonant suspensions, Les Baricades Misterieuses; and a number of witty pieces written with characteristic precision in two parts, of which both the subdest and the funniest is Le Moucheron, an 'Italian' gigue in which the line exasperatingly dances round itself.
The next ordre, the seventh, is in G, and is also mainly pastoral in mood. It is on the whole less distinguished than the previous (B flat) ordre, but contains some interesting harpsichord writing in syncopation in the first part of Lei Petits Ages. La Menetou is a lovely piece combining baroque line with 'impressionistic' suspensions; Les Delices is especially rich in sonorous sequential writing:
I'M Irrn^ff	jam		m--j	
>ft hi n n *» J	V 7 7		ftt	etc
In contrast, the eighth ordre, in B minor, is almost uniformly serious, even tragic, in style; and while as a whole the second book cannot compare with the fourth in maturity, a good case can be 212
The Clavecin Works
made out for the eighth as the greatest individual ordre. It opens with a magnificent allemande, La Raphaele, which in complexity of rhythm and harmony and in architectural power, can be justly compared to the analogous movements in Bach. A quotation will indicate its intensity, the dissonances over a pedal point, the lute-like suspensions, the disciplined chromaticisms:
Equally majestic is the sarabande, L' Unique, with its dramatically percussive harmonies and violent changes of rhythm. The two courantes are among the most tightly wrought of all Couperin's dance movements, while the allemande, L'Ausoniene, though simpler in texture, has dignified Bachian sequences and suspensions over a regular metrical pulse.
But the climax of the ordre—unquestionably the greatest single piece in Couperin's clavecin music and one of the greatest keyboard pieces ever written—is the terrific Passacaille. The tragic effect of this movement is attributable to the tension between the audacious fluidity of the harmonies, and the rigid repetition not merely of the bass, but of the whole opening period at the remorselessly regular intervals demanded by the chaconne-rondeau convention:
213
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
1=
4=
ll
e/c.
Each couplet adds to the intensity—even the quiet episodes such as the third, with its sparse texture and drooping, weeping suspensions contrasting with the chromatic sonority of the harmonization of the theme—until a shattering climax is reached in the seventh couplet, with its great spread discords, and anguished suspensions percussively exploiting the whole range of the instrument:
é
mm
f
mm
m
m
ilk j-h. 1				
		*	«p.....	etc.
	i    .i. .i			
Although the passion increases cumulatively, the unaltered repetition of the opening clause gives the music a timeless, implacably fateful quality. It is astonishing that the composer of this terrifying music could ever have been regarded as exclusively amiable and elegant; we may compare the nineteenth-century legend of the 'tender' Racine. Certainly there is no music which has a more pro-214
Thb Clavecin Works
foundly Racinian quality than this Passacaille, in which the rigidity of a social and technical convention (having reference to accepted standards in social intercourse), only just succeeds in holding in check a passion so violent that it threatens to engulf both the personality and the civilization of which that personality is a part. Just as we are conscious of Racine's alexandrine holding in control the wayward passion o(Phedre's rhythms and metaphors, so we are aware of the severe chaconne-rondeau form damming the flood of Couperin's chromaticism and dissonance. Rather oddly, after the Passacaille this B minor ordre is rounded off with an amiable Corellian gigue, La Morine'te; as though Couperin wished to reassert the validity of social elegance after his incursion into the merciless psychological and spiritual terrors that surround our waking lives.
The ninth ordre in A is again gentle, Watteau-like in tone. It contains one supremely lovely, and quite well-known piece, the rondeau Le Bavolet Flotant. This is a melody of the simple brunete type; and the two-part texture is airy and luminous. There is also a subtle movement, Les Charmes, using suave, overlapping lute figurations, and introducing a radiant change from minor to major in the second section. La Se'duisante and La Rafraichissante make effective use of sequences and of the sonorous registers of the keyboard, and the ordre opens with a fine polyphonic allemande for two clavecins, which provides evidence of what one might call the interior density of Couperin's style. As with Bach, the expressive quality of the harmonies is here largely the result of the flexibility of the lines within a clearly ordered harmonic framework. The Passacaille represents an extreme manifestation of this.
The next ordre, the tenth, in D, is musically less interesting, though it is interesting historically because it contains some fairly developed examples of descriptive music—an aspect of Couperin's work to which the conventional account devotes a disproportionate attention. The first three pieces are battle pictures, cleverly exploiting the metallic and percussive features of the harpsichord; on the piano they are apt to sound perfunctory. The second of them, Allegresse des Vainqueurs, is also a fine piece of music, expressing an extreme degree of joyful buoyancy by the simplest of means—an engaging 6 : 8 lilt, with melodic sequences phrased across the bar, and making brilliant play with extended trills:
215
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
JJ3
-CUE
elc.
1
La Mezangere, in the minor, is a more concentrated movement, using lute technique with the dotted rhythm of the Lullian overture. Les Bagatelles is an effective piece for two keyboards, depending more on the metallically glinting sonority of the crossed parts, than on melodic appeal. The other pieces are of slighter interest.
The eleventh ordre, in C, is notable mainly for another biggish descriptive work, this time of considerable musical value. Les Fastes de la Grande et Ancienne Mxnxstrxndxsx demonstrates to a remarkable degree the influence on Couperin of popular music; we find here not merely a general relationship to folk-song such as we have often referred to before, but the direct presence of the 'low' music of the towns. Couperin's love for and understanding of popular music— bagpipes, fiddlers, street-songs, rarefied in the economy of his technique—suggests that although he was, like Racine, an artist who worked for an aristocracy, he none the less embraced an unexpectedly comprehensive range of experience. There is about some of these pieces a quality almost comparable with the painting of Chardin— a tender sympathy for the things of everyday life, together with a technical delight in problems of balance and form, whereby these things are objectified, released from the temporal and local. The subde precision of Couperin's and Chardin's technique gives to things that are mundane a quality that seems eternal, and by inference divine.
Thus the popular element in Couperin's work is reconcilable with its more serious aspects, just as Lully's aristocratic tunes were whisded by errand boys, and found their way into folk-song. Couperin's wit belongs without incongruity to the salon, the fair, the street, the village green, and the cathedral. If less obviously than an Englishman of Jonson's time, Couperin still worked before head and heart, laughter and tears, were divorced, and one can listen 216
Thb Ciavecin Works
to a frivolously impudent piece such as Les Jongleurs et les Sauteurs from this ordre immediately after, say, the noble chaconne La Favorite, without experiencing any emotional jolt; there is clearly the same sensibility behind the clarity of the texture. We are not therefore surprised that this work in five actes should include, side by side with comic drum-and-fife pieces like those about drunkards, bears, and monkeys, a grave, stately movement such as Les Invalides; and should also in one movement use a popular technique—a wailing, monotonous air of Les Vieleux et Us Gueux, over a plodding bourdon—to produce an effect not merely lugubrious, but unexpectedly pathetic:
This piece, as well as the brisk musette-like movements in the popular vein, needs the nasal tone of the harpsichord if its poetry is to be realized adequately.
The last ordre in the second book (No. 12 in E), is comparatively slight. It includes a charmingly suave courante, a most polite La Coribante, and a delightful piece, L'Atalante, in rurming semiquavers, over a quaver pulse.
Five years were to elapse before the appearance of Couperin's third book. But in the same year as the second volume he published his theoretical work, L'art de toucher le Clavecin, and incorporated in it, for illustrative purposes, a series of eight preludes and one alle-mande. The allemande is a solidly made two-part invention with a good deal of canonic imitation, but is not especially interesting. The preludes, however, contain pieces which must rank among the finest examples in Couperin's work of the 'Bachian compromise' between harmonic proportion and melodic independence.
Couperin explains that though he has 'measured' them for the convenience of performers, these pieces are preludes and therefore, in
217
Francois Couperin: The Work
accordance with the lutenist tradition, should be played with the utmost freedom:
Quoy que ces Preludes soint Merits mesure's, il y a cependant un gout d'usage qu'il faut suivre. Je m'explique: Prelude est une composition libre, ou l'imagination se livre a tout ce qui se prdsente a elle. Mais conune il est assez rare de trouver des g6nies capables de produire dans 1'instant, il faut que ceux qui auront recours a ces Preludes regies les jouent d'une maniere aisee, sans trop s'attacher a la precision des mouvements, a moins que je ne 1'aye marque expres par le mot Mesuri. Ainsi, on peut hasarder de dire que dans beaucoup de choses la Musique (par comparison a la Poeie) a sa prose, et ses vers.
The connection with the lutenists is explicit in the first prelude in C, since this depends almost entirely on spread chord formations in suspension (cf. Bach's C major prelude). The second prelude, in D minor, uses a similar technique, only with a more independent and rhapsodic line. The conventional dotted rhythm appears more or less consistendy, and some of the sweeping scale passages suggest the influence of Italian recitative effects similar to those found in the tombeaux of the lutenists and violists; dissonant appoggiaturas are frequent:
The third prelude, in G minor, is a courante, lucid in its part-writing. No. 4, in F, returns to the suspensions and decorative 218
Thb Clavecin Works
arabesques of lute technique, and may be compared with Louis Couperin's Tombeau de M. Blancrocher. No. 5, in A, is one of the finest pieces in which a metrical beat is dissolved in a supple, delicately ornamentedline. The B minor, No. 6, is a two-part invention again notable for the way in which the bar-metre disappears in the ellipses of the counterpoint:
m
ess*
		r			
				.....-- ..UU-	. 4>- = =*=
				^ J-	
Like the fifth, the seventh prelude, in B flat, has a highly ornamented baroque melody in which the convolutions of the line create some peculiar harmonic effects:
219
Francois Couperin: The Work
and the last prelude, in E minor, is an elegant piece with a typical undertone of wistfulness, using beautifully wrought figurations in sequence.20
Couperin intended his preludes to be used as 'loosening-up' exercises before any group of his pieces in the appropriate key; they were not conceived with reference to any particular book, or ordre. It was in 172a that the third volume of clavecin pieces appeared, and this time it opens with an ordre which is among the peak points of Coupcrin's keyboard music. It is in B minor again, a key which seems to have had a significance for Couperin analogous to Mozart's G minor; and it starts with a tender movement, Les Lis Naiss&ns, in melodically grouped arpeggios. This is followed by a rondeau, Les Roseaux, which ranks with Les Bergeries and Le Bavolet Flotant as one of the loveliest of his works in a simple melodic, homophoni-cally accompanied style. The balanced rise and fall of the opening clause is subtly underlined by the harmonies; here once more we can see how a poise which in one sense is a virtue of Society, may in another sense become a moral and spiritual quality:
fr , r f-
1
I
10 Here we may mention also the Sicitietme published as an appendix to the Oiseau Lyre edition of the first volume of clavecin pieces. This was first published anonymously by Ballard in his collection of Pieces Choisies .. .ie dijferents Auteurs (1707.) It seems to have been popular, for it appears in several MSS. all anonymous with the exception of one inscribed Sicilienne ie M. Couprin. The question of the authorship is not of much importance. It is an amiable, undistinguished little product of the brunete tradition with Italian influence, such as might have been written by Couperin in his youth or by any minor clavecin composer of the period.
220
The Clavecin Works
But most of the ordre is taken up by the big chacoime Les Folies Francoises ou les Dominos. This is a series of variations on a ground bass, on a principle analogous to that of Bach's Goldberg Variations, without the strict contrapuntal movements. Though the Folies are, of course, on a much smaller scale than Bach's work, their emotional range is wide, extending from the melting harmonies of the variation called La Langueur, to the powerful internal chromaticisms of La Jalousie taciturne; from the simplicity of La FideliU to the vigorous dotted rhythm of L'Ardeur and the ponderous tread of Les Vieux Galans; from the rhythmic whimsicalities of La Coqueterie to the whirling figuration of L'Esperance and La Frenesie. The work is a microcosm of Coupcrin's art, its tragic passion, its witty urbanity, its sensous charm. Whereas the earlier B minor suite had been rounded off with a piece of inconsequential gaiety, Couperin adds as an epilogue to this ordre a short movement, L'Ame en peine, which, apart from La Passacaille, is perhaps his most impassioned utterance. It is composed of almost continuously dissonant, drooping suspensions, including a high proportion of strained augmented intervals:
|tf"  J'J
r
..- - - -w
8|| ,ff
a
etc.
Although short, it produces an impression of grandeur and tragedy; iust as Les Folies Francoises, though its duration in time is not long,
221
Francois Cotjperin: The Work
seems—through the variety of its mood and the architectural precision of its structure—to be a work of imposing dimensions.
The next ordre, No. 14 in D, is mostly of the pastoral type. It opens with one of Couperin's most exquisite pieces of decorated melodic writing, Le Rossignol en amour, in which the line can be related to bis baroque method of treating the human voice in parts of the Lecons des Tenibres, and still more in the Brunete of 1711. Les Fauvetes Plaintives is plaintive indeed, with its tremulous treble registration, its chromaticism, and its tender appoggiaturas in dotted rhythm. Le Carillon de Cithere, again 'scored' in the high registers of the instrument, is among the most beautiful of all bell pieces; and Le Petit Rien is a nimble two-part invention.
From the fifteenth ordre onwards, the level of the movements remains almost uniformly high. This A minor ordre begins with a noble allemande, La Regente, combining irregular baroque lines with great richness of texture and harmony; this use of the chord of the ninth is representative:
4=± _
The lullaby that follows, Le Dodo, is a tender and civilized re-creation of a popular nursery song—a simple melody phrased across the bar, accompanied by a rocking figure. Again a most touching effect is achieved by the simple contrast between major and minor in the complementary sections. The two Musetes are in the popular drum-and-fife style, with short, excitingly irregular periods over the drone, and some clattering trills. La Douce is a sophisticated-naive piece in the folk-song manner, and Les Vergers Fleuris perhaps the most remarkable of all Couperin's impressionistic pieces, creating an effect of heat and summer haze through a line which seems to be gradually dissolving into its suave ornamentation, and through the use of pro-222
The Clavecin Works
tracted suspensions which seem only to resolve on to other suspensions, over a sustained drone:
etc.
Here again'the sensuousness of the harmony and ornamentation is disciplined by the symmetrical form in a way which recalls Watteau's structural disciplining of his idealized version of the hues of nature.
In the sixteenth ordre, the finest piece is La Distraite, which preserves a civilized symmetry beneath its 'distraught' scale passages. L'Himen-Amour uses widely skipping leaps and arpeggio formations; Les Vestales is a charming rondeau with a folk-song-like melody. Both the seventeenth and the eighteenth ordre contain magnificent pieces of a Bach-like polyphonic texture (La Superbe and La Verne-ville), brilliant movements in harpsichord figuration of a quasi-descriptive order (Les Petits Moulins a Vent, Les Timbres, Le Tic-Toc-Choc), and a fine piece (Le Gaillard-Boiteux) 'dans le gout burlesque'. But more outstanding still is the nineteenth ordre in D minor, which begins with one of the very finest pieces in the popular manner, Les Calotins et les Calotines, includes a piece, Les Culbutes Jxcxbxnxs, in which irregularly grouped clauses and abrupt leaps are combined in sequences to produce at times a quasi-polytonal effect:
223
and has penultimately a lilting movement over a gendy chromatic bass (La Muse Plantine) which simultaneously demonstrates Cou-perin's sensuousness and his classical detachment:
	m		*	h	US	■mi hi
						—r—1
Another eight years elapsed before, in 1730, Couperin published his fourth book of clavecin pieces. Though it contains no piece on the scale of La Passacaitle, it must on the whole be regarded as the culmination of his achievement in keyboard music. It is also one of his last works, for he died in 1733, and owing to ill-health composed nothing during the last few years of his life. In his preface, Couperin explains that the pieces in the fourth book had mosdy been finished some three years previously; this would place them more or less contemporary with the great suites for viols.
The volume opens unpretentiously with an ordre which is pervasively witty in tone. La Princesse Marie, Les Chirubins, and Les Tambourins all use very short phrases, in unexpectedly irregular 224
The Clavecin Womcs
groupings, often based on a syncopation of the phrase rhythm against the bar rhythm. The suaver movements, La Crouilli and La Douce Janneton, arc also habitually phrased across the bar, the falling sevenths of the last named being typical of Couperin's late work. The next ordre, the twenty-first, in E minor, is mainly grave and serious. La Reine des Cceurs has a proud nobility, conveyed through balanced sequential sevenths, in sarabande rhythm:
Pi	?r f'r			r	^1 etc.
	r		f.		
La Couperin, a large-scale allemande, is one of the most magnificent of all Couperin's Bach-like pieces, with superbly devised keyboard polyphony in three parts:
-im
Lute figurations and internal chromaticisms give to La Harpee and La Petite Pince-sans-rire a surprising harmonic piquancy. The twenty-second ordre in D is the climax of Couperin's urbane P 225
Francois Couperin: The Work
wit. Almost all the pieces have some elegantly comic feature; L'Anguille in particular is a brilliant two-part invention, in which the abrupt harmonies and reiterative figuration convey as appropriately as musically the eel's writhings.
A galant et magnifique opening to the twenty-third ordre is provided by L'Audacieuse, a piece consistendy in the dotted rhythm of the Lullian overture. Les Tricoteuses is a descriptive piece suggested by the metallic rustle of the harpsichord in quick semiquaver movement; it makes an impressionistic, homophonic use of the chord of the diminished seventh. Still more extraordinary harmonically is the next piece, L'Arlequine, which, in the tradition of the commedia, has some exciting percussive effects, and some stardingly modern progressions of seventh and ninth chords:
		-			m	
4^—-	* m J*—	H J—L	JJ*1 ■	f=--	?tf=-JJJJ1	*=&=
		ij-'j j		
-1   fff f	rr r	; if p	—p—f—	e/c.
	'CJU 1			
The passage is a fine example of Couperin's ability to attain to great sonorous richness with the minimum of means; it is this kind of effect which made so deep an appeal to Debussy, and still more to Ravel, since they found in its emotional quality something that was not irrelevant to their position in the modern world. This quality is extremely subde. A litde swaying figure, oscillating between the fifth and sixth, opens the piece with an air of wide-eyed diatonic ,'nnocence which is belied by the artificial symmetry of the clauses, 226
The Clavecin Works
by the witty major and minor seconds, and by the melancholy of the sequential harmonies. As a whole, the piece is balanced between a bumpkin simplicity and a sophisticated hyper-sensitivity, in a manner that almost justifies a comparison with Watteau's wonderful painting of Gilles. Both Watteau and Couperin seem, in works such as these, to be attempting to transmute a personal loneliness or distress into the world of the commedia, precisely because the theatre can idealize the crudities and indignities of everyday life into 'something rich and strange'. It is the tenderness of the feeling—the sympathy with the outcast—that is so remarkable in Watteau's pictorial, and Couperin's musical, representation of the Fool. We may relevantly recall that at the time they created these works both Watteau and Couperin were sick men.
In Les Satires, another movement dans le gout burlesque in this ordre, we may find similar qualities. The tenderness is here less evident; but the weird dissonances, the percussively treated diminished seventh chords, are never crudely obtrusive. They give a sudden ironic twist to an apparently innocuous phrase:
	|     [_  J   )U 0	Op 1	r r i ' '	
/	S3	3=	r—-	etc.
here again the Harlequin resolves his spiritual gaucherie into a world of exquisite artifice.
The twenty-fourth ordre, in A, is distinguished by one of the longest and noblest of Couperin's clavecin pieces, the passacaille, L'Amphibie. This is not in the chaconne-rondeau convention of the more intense B minor Passacaille, but is a series of variations on a ground bass which is itself treated very freely. It is the only movement in Couperin's keyboard works that can be compared with the big chaconnes from the two-violin suites, and it uses similar technical methods to build up an increasing momentum. Lute-like suspensions, virile dotted rhythms, flowing triplet figures are all employed
227
' I hms k (jmu biirlľsqiiL'' : Watteau, Portrait of Gílles
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
in a technique which covers the whole range of the keyboard. As in the violin suites, the bass itself shares in the growing excitement by acquiring more animation and by introducing chromaticisms. The piece concludes with a massive statement of the theme in its original form. Les Vieux Seigneurs is a sarabande, also in the old grand go^t. It is complemented by a piece called Les Jeunes Seigneurs, cy-devant les Petits Maitres, in a perky 2 :4 with semi-quaver figuration phrased across the beat; again, a witty use is made of diminished seventh effects. Couperin possibly intends some satirical reference to the new, exquisite style of the divertissement in the manner of Mouret—compared with the old-style Lullian majesty of Les Vieux Seigneurs. In Les Guirlandes we come to one of the finest pieces using lute arpeggios in a sonorously impressionistic manner. Played on a big, resonant harpsichord, this piece rivals Les Vergers Fleuris in its richly atmospheric effect.
The twenty-fifth ordre is possibly the most technically experimental of all. The first piece, La Visionnaire, is a Lullian overture in miniature, with a slow, powerful introduction which mingles the intense recitative-like line and surging portamentos of the violists with very dramatic harmonies, in a manner that recalls the sarabande of Bach's £ minor partita:
The quick section, though in two parts throughout, produces an energetic effect through the vigour and complexity of its rhythms. 228
The Clavecin Works
The next piece, La Misterieuse, is centred in C major, in contrast to the overture's E flat; its mysteriousness seems to consist mainly in its abstruse transitions of key. A passage such as this dissolves the sense of tonality almost as remarkably as does Bach's B minor fugue from Book I of the Forty-Eight;
But Couperin never relinquishes his tonal sense as completely as does Bach in the twenty-fifth of the Goldberg Variations; he remains too much a part of a civilized aristocracy. Les Ombres Errantes depends mainly on the insistent syncopation of its phrasing, and on 'weeping' internal suspensions which create a fluid chromaticism in the inner parts. Despite the emotional harmony, the impression is throughout one of dignified refinement. As in so much of Bach, the figuration is consistent from start to finish; the expressive quality arises out of the subdeties of phrasing.
The twenty-sixth ordre, in F sharp minor, is possibly—with the B minor ordre from Book II—the finest. If it has no movement of such overwhelming intensity as the B minor Passacaille, it has perhaps greater variety than the earlier suite, and has such consummate lucidity and economy in its technique that it is a joy to look at, as well as to play and listen to. This is immediately apparent in the
229
Francois Couperin: The Work
opening allemande-like movement, La Convalescente, with its beautiful supensions over a chromatic bass:
jj»-r-
«J        trJ        ^ ^
its rich harmonic sequences:
and its almost Chopin-like sensuous coda which, in its context, attains to a spiritual poise beyond Chopin's febrile imagination. 230
The Clavecin Works
Equally lovely is the rondeau, L'Epineuse, in which tied notes and suspensions combine with melodic figuration to produce an effect as of part-writing. The third couplet uses a simple lulling rhythm across the bar-line, recalling the earlier Dodo; and the fourth couplet introduces one of those radiant transitions to the major which give intimation of how Couperin's civilized deportment is not merely a social virtue, but is, as it were, a spiritual illumination. In this passage, the texture luminously' glows'; and the gentle yearning of the rising melodic figure is counterpoised by the symmetrical grouping of the clauses:
etc.
The last piece in this ordre, La Pantomime, is a superb example of Couperin's commedia dell'Arte style, using percussive guitar-like effects and brusque dissonances of minor and major ninth with an irresistibly witty vivacity:
I'J.......J ^1		
		-tT73J
T
231
Francois Couperin: The Work
The twenty-seventh and last ordre, in B minor again, is in the same mood as the F sharp minor, and is hardly less beautiful. The allemande, L'Exquise, has the same serenity and plasticity of part-writing as La Convalescente—a keyboard technique comparable with that of Bach's most mature works, though more delicate in texture. Les Pavots evokes an impression of heat and languor through broken chords and appoggiaturas in an even crochet rhythm in the high register of the instrument. A very French Les Chinois is remarkable for its rhythmic surprises; and the last piece, Saillie,*1 has a Bachlike technique of neat imitative writing which on the last page dissolves into quintessential Couperin—a simple repeated figure involving a falling fourth. The peculiarly disembodied feeling which this figure, in conjunction with the level flowing movement, gives to the music is enhanced by the fact that the figure does not occur in the first half of the binary architecture (which ends in the dominant and starts off again in the relative major). In its sofdy floating repeti-tiveness the figure has an eternal quality that is at once elegant and wistful; we may note too the touching Neapolitan sixth effect of the flattened C in the last few bars:
j'i ££ft r
p
■J iUJ
m
rttr<*rr
emu-
11 The Saillie or Pas Echappe was a step used in a dance called La Babette, according to P. Rameau's Le Maitre a danser of 1725. The literal meaning of the word is to' start' or to burst out. 232
The Clavecin Works
Despite its ostensible limitations compared, with, say, the Art o, Fugue, the Mass in B minor, the Jupiter Symphony, the Hammer-klavier sonata, or Byrd's five-part Mass, Couperin's fourth book of clavecin pieces seems to me to be among the most remarkable feats of creative craftsmanship in the history of music. If we have understood the significance of its lucidity aright, we shall have no difficulty in appreciating how the exquisite Couperin could on the whole have more than any other composer has in common with Bach. Nor shall we have any difficulty in understanding how the composer of a funny piece about monkeys, or a charming piece like Le Bavolet Flotant, could also create, in La Passacaille and the finest of the church works, music in which a tremendous tragic passion, revealed in a tautness of linear and harmonic structure, should hide beneath the surface elegance; in which Couperin's habitual preoccupation with social values and 'states of mind' receives what it is hardly excessive to call a spiritual re-creation.
Like Bach, Couperin preserves a delicate balance, perhaps peculiar to his epoch, between the claims of the individual personality, of society, and of God. Though the Phedre-like vehemence of La Passacaille may endanger his formal lucidity, though the melancholy that lurks in the eyes of Watteau's harlequins is perceptible beneath even his most witty moods, Couperin never forgets that he is the honnete homme, living by a code of values which, if they are more than personal, are, in the conventionally accepted sense of the term, more than social too. And in his greatest work he seems to indicate—as does Racine in Athalie, and as does Bach, who lived much more directly in contact with a religious community, through the whole of his career—that in the long run such values are meaningless unless one accepts the notion of an absolute, or God.
233
Chapter Ten
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
Le gout Italien et le gout Francois ont partage' depuis long-temps (en France) le Republique de la Musiquc; a mon egard, j'ay toujours estime' les choses qui le meritoient sans acception d'Auteurs, ni de Nation; et les premieres Sonades Italiennes qui parurent a Paris il y a plus de trente annees ne firent aucun tort dans mon esprit, ny aux ouvrages de monsieur de Lulli, ny a ceux de mes Ance'tres.
Francois couperin, Les Gouts RiUnis, 1724
Couperin's 'concerts' were published in two volumes in 1722 and 1725. The first volume of four suites was entided Concerts Royaux; the second collection of ten concerts, with the addition of the two Apotheose sonatas, was given the generic tide of Les Go&ts Reiinis. The suites were written for the court, after the last of the church works, the Lecons des Tenebres; their composition therefore dates from 1714 onwards. Composed to soften and sweeten the King's melancholy, they are conceived in a style more French than Italian. They are not concertos in the Italian sense of the word but simply concerted music in dance form scored for an ensemble group. None the less the music throughout, as well as the tides in the later volume, indicates how deeply Couperin's French idiom is impregnated with Italianism.
No particular medium is specified for the pieces. They were usually printed on two staves, as though for clavecin, and in this medium are mostly effective. But Couperin remarks in his preface that 'ils conviennent non seulement au clavecin, mais aussi au Violon, au hautbois, a la viole, et au basson'; and it seems clear that it was on some such combination of instruments that die works were performed at court. Couperin says that they were originally played 234
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
by Duval, Philidor, Alarms, and Dubois, with himself at the clavecin. Duval was a celebrated violinist, Alarius a violist, and Philidor and Dubois were virtuosos on the oboe and bassoon. The ideal arrangement would thus seem to be for two stringed instruments, two wind instruments, and continuo, the strings and wind playing either together or alternately. The choice of instruments should depend on the expressive qualities of the movement in question. Contemporary opinion associated particular instruments with specific passions, as we may see from this passage in Avison's Essay of Musical Expression (1752):
We should also minutely observe the different qualities of the instruments themselves: for, as vocal Music requires one kind of Expression, and instrumental another, so different instruments have also different expression peculiar to them.
Thus the Hautboy will best express the Cantabile or singing style, and may be used in all movements whatever under this denomination, especially those movements which tend to the Gay and Chearful.
In compositions for the German flute is required the same method of proceeding by conjunct degrees or such other natural intervals, as, with the nature of its tone, will best express the Languishing, or Melancholy style.
In general oboes and bassoons are suitable for merry movements such as rigaudons and bounces, perhaps because of the instruments' rustic associations; flutes are appropriate to tender and melancholy movements such as the sarabandes. Violins, in Couperin's concerts, are essentially lyrical and noble, though less pathetic than the flutes. A more specifically instrumental character is discernible in the later volume, in which Couperin expressly states that some of the pieces are to be played on unaccompanied viols.
Almost all the concerts are in the form of dance suites; and like the suites of the lutenists and clavecinists, they adapt their movements from the dances of the ballet and theatre. The only movement which is an exception to this is the Prelude, which is usually related to the grave opening of the Italian sonata de chiesa. It is always a more formal piece than the improvisatory prelude of the lutenists.
Many of the dance forms have already been briefly described in other contexts in this book; since, however, Couperin's concerts are his apotheosis of the contemporary dance, this seems an appropriate place to attempt some more systematic catalogue. We must remember that, deriving as they do from the theatre, the opera, and
235
Francois Couperin: The Work
the ballet, these dances have all an expressive intention. All the theorists insisted that 'la premiere et la plus essentielle beaute" d'un air de ballet est la convenance, e'est a dire le juste rapport que l'air doit avoir avec la chose represents' (Noverre); that 'chaque carac-tere et chaque passion ont leur mouvement particulier; mais cela depend plus du gout que des regies'. (Rameau.) Moreover, although taste may have been more important than rules, this does not mean that rules were non-existent. The relationships between different passions and different physical movements were as rigidly classified as were the possible relationships between passions and pictorial formulae in the painting of Lebrun. 'La danse est aujourd'hui divisee en plusieurs caracteres . . . les gens de metier en comptent jusqu'a seize, et chacun de ces caracteres a sur le theatre, des pas, des attitudes et des figures qui lui sont propres'. Of course, there was not any 'psychological' intention in the dances; they did not deal in individual passions. But they had a general relation to types of experience and types of people. They were musical and terpsichorean Humours, and as such were carefully graded and differentiated.
The first dance in the suites, the allemande, had gradually displaced the pavane which, some authorities suggest, had been metamorphosed into the slow section of the French overture. Couperin uses two types of allemande. One, which he called allemande legere, is in four time, light and flowing, but unhurried; this is probably a survival of the popular allemande which was a sung dance. The other type of allemande, of a more grave character, is an instrumental sophistication of the original dance, and is of all the dance forms except the chaconne, the most musically developed. Rousseau says that it 'se bat gravement a 4 terns', and Mace describes it as 'heavie . . . fidy representing the nature of the People whose Name it carryeth, so that no Extraordinary Motions are used in dancing it'. The tides of Couperin's most typical pieces in allemande form make clear that he associated the dance with a certain seriousness and dignity, though the pace should never be sluggish. Even his alle-mandes legeres incline, as we have seen, to contrapuntal treatment. Both kinds are regarded as highly wrought instrumental compositions, bearing out Mattheson's comment that between allemandes danced and allemandes played there is as much difference as there is between Earth and Heaven. 236
The Concbrts Royaux and Suites for Viols
The differences between the two types of courante, French and Italian, have been discussed previously. Originally a very quick dance, as its name suggests, it must, by Couperin's day, have become considerably slower. A crochet pulse is essential if the cross rhythms and other metrical complications are to be intelligible. Rousseau describes the dance as being 'en trois terns graves', while D'Alem-bert, in 1766, even goes as far as to call it 'une sarabande fort lente'. Both writers, however, remark that the courante 'n'est plus en usage'. Most contemporary indications of tempo give the courante and the sarabande the same speed (see Appendix D). On the whole, however, the evidence indicates that played, as opposed to danced, sarabandes were slower and more noble than courantes; despite their rhythmic complexity courantes preserved something of the quality referred to by Mace when he described them as being 'commonly of two strains, and full of Sprightfulness, and Vigour, Lively, Brisk, and Chearful'. Quantz says that courantes should be played with vigour and majesty, at a speed of approximately a crochet for one beat of the pulse. Some such combination of stateli-ness with energy seems an appropriate speed for courantes, and Quantz's suggested pace seems reasonable for Couperin's courantes in the French manner, in which the animation depends so much on cross accents between 6 :4 and 3 :2. The smoother 3 :4 Italian courantes may be taken slighdy faster, though even in these movements Couperin is apt to spring disconcerting rhythmic surprises on the performer. According to P. Rameau's Maitre a danser of 1725 even the danced courante was, by that date, a very solemn dance with a nobler style and a grander manner than the others. The subdety of its danced rhythm depended on the fact that only two steps were danced for each three beats of the music, the first of the steps taking up two parts in three of the measure. (Feuillet's L'Art de decrire la dame, 1700.)
The sarabande was one of the oldest of the ballet dances, having been introduced into France from Spain in 1588. Transplanted into England in the seventeenth century, it became a rapid and skittish dance, as we may see from the sarabandes of the Elizabethan virginal-ists. During the seventeenth century it progressively slowed down, emminating in the powerfully pathetic sarabandes of Couperin, Bach, and Handel. The mature form of it is characterized by a slight
237
Francois Couperin: The Work
stress on the second beat of a slow triple rhythm, and Brossard defines it as' n'e"tant a la bien prendre qu'un menuet, dont le mouve-mcnt est grave, lent, sencux etc.' Grassineau adds that it differs from the courante in ending on the up beat instead of the down. Lacombe also described the sarabande as' une espece de menuet lente'. Remond de St Mard remarked in 1741 that the sarabande, 'toujours melan-colique, respire une tendresse serieuse et delicate', and this elegiac languishing mode must for long have been typical of the sarabandes of the ballet. Couperin frequendy composed sarabandes of this type, sometimes specifying them as sarabande tendre. But, as we have observed, he also writes sarabandes in a grave style, which although melancholy, are anything but relaxed in effect. Even more than the lutenists, Couperin reserves the grave sarabande for many of his most passionate utterances.
Rivalling the sarabande in grandeur is the chaconne, which also came from Spain and was widespread throughout the seventeenth century. This dance too was in triple time, with a slight stress on the second beat, though it was less ponderous in movement than the sarabande. Its formal structure over a repeated bass makes it perhaps the most important of all the dances from a musical point of view; for it offers opportunities for musical development on a more extensive scale than the other dances. Originally chaconne basses had taken the form of the descending tetrachord major, minor or chromatic. By Couperin's time the range of possible basses was more extensive; nor was it necessary for the bass to be preserved unaltered through the whole composition. For Couperin, the bass may be a linear ground; or it may be merely an ostinato harmonic progression, as it is in the gigantic chaconne of Bach's Goldberg Variations. D'Alem-bert adequately defines the chaconne as' une longue piece de musique a trois terns, dont le mouvement est modern et la mesure bien marquee. Autrefois la basse de la chaconne £tait une basse contrainte de 4 en 4 mesures, e'est a dire qui revenoit toujours la mSme de 4 en 4 mesures; aujourd'hui on ne s'astreint plus a cet usage. La chaconne commence pour ordinaire non en frappant, mais au second terns'.
The growth of the music over the regular bass called for considerable skill on the composer's part if a satisfactory sense of climax was to be obtained; we have repeatedly noticed that this was a challenge to which Francois Couperin, like Lully and Louis Couperin before 238
Thb Concbrts Royaux and Suites for Viols
him, responded with enthusiasm. Couperin writes two types of chaconne, corresponding with his two types of allemande and sarabande. The chaconne grave is in 3 :2 or 3 :4 and is derived from the ceremonial chaconnes of the operatic finales. The chaconne legere is normally in 3 : 8, more moderate in movement and slighter in texture, though still rather serious in temper. Chaconnes are most commonly in the minor mode, but often have a series of variations or couplets in the major in the middle of the composition. In the biggest pieces this may paradoxically suggest the effect of a ternary structure, despite the essentially monistic nature of chaconne technique.
The passacaille may be taken as identical with the chaconne. Quantz maintains that its tempo is slightly faster than that of the chaconne, Rousseau and D'Alembert say that it is 'plus lente et plus tendre'. Some authorities suggest that the chaconne has the syncopated sarabande rhythm whereas the passacaille has a smooth three beats in a bar. Modern musicologists have attempted to establish a distinction between the passacaglia as a composition on a linear ground and the chaconne as a movement built on a harmonic osti-nato. The exceptions are so numerous and the evidence so conflicting that it would probably be equally easy to make out a case for the opposite view. The above remarks apply to real chaconnes and passa-caglias not to the hybrid chaconne-rondeau, which will be referred to later.
The gavotte is a dance in 2 : 2 time, beginning on the second beat. Its movement was moderate, and its mood usually that of 'une gaieti vive et douce'. It was, however, susceptible of somewhat varied interpretations. Rousseau says that it is 'ordinairement gracieux, souvent gai, quelquefois aussi tendre et lent', and Lacombe defines it as 'quelquefois gai, quelquefois grave'. In general—like Couperin, and his civilization—it avoids extremes. If gay, it is never rumbustious; if sad, it is never oppressively so: or in the words of D'Alembert it is 'tantot lent, tantot gay; mais jamais extremement vif, ni excessivement lent'. Perhaps its dominant characteristic is an amiable wistfulness.
Also in 2 : 2 or 2 : 4, but begiruung on the last quarter of the bar, is the rigaudon, 'compose" de deux reprises, chacune de 4, de 8, de 12 etc. mesures' (D'Alembert). This dance was especially popular
239
Francois Couperin: The Work
during Couperin's time, and was very merry, with a popular flavour. It is robust and simple in rhythm, having an open-air jauntiness. The tambourin (used by Couperin only once under this title), and the bourree are similar to the rigaudon, except that the tambourin, with a drone bass, is still more rustic in flavour, while the bourree often has a syncopation on the first half of the bar. Another dance in 2 : 2 of a popular and rustic type is the contredanse, the name of which is a corruption of the English country-dance; we may see in this further evidence of the self-conscious interest of a sophisticated society in the naive and 'primitive': 'les choses les plus simples sont celles dont on se lasse le moins', as Rousseau said. Contredanses are symmetrical in melody and rhythm and were employed in the joyous finales of operas. Despite their popular virility, they are not in any way wild, as are the tambourins. They begin on the second beat of the 2 : 2 rhythm, and may thus be regarded as a racier, less civilized version of the gavotte.
Three related types of quick, triple-rhythmed dance are the loure, gigue, and canaris. The loure is usually in 6 : 4, sometimes in 6 : 8, and is always lilted, in a dotted rhythm, with a slight 'push' on the short note. Its movement is flowing, but dignified and graceful. The gigue, which came from England, is 'vive et un peu folle', in the words of Remond de St Mard. Some gigues, in 12 : 8 or 9 : 8, are in equally flowing quavers, after the Italian manner; others, in the French style, are in a skittish dotted rhythm; this type of gigue 'n'est proprement qu'une loure tres vive' (D'Alembert). The gigue was extremely fashionable in Couperin's day. The French form of it is indistinguishable from the canaris, a farouche dance performed in the ballets by pseudo-Canary Islanders, and other exotics. The same rhythms are found at a more moderate tempo in the sicilienne and forlane. Not all Couperin's siciliennes are in the conventional dotted rhythm; some are in level quavers, like a slower Italian gigue. Couperin's one lovely example of the forlane is in the dotted rhythm. Rousseau, in his Dictionnaire, says that the forlane 'se bat gaiement, ct la danse est aussi fort gaie. On l'appelle forlane parce quelle a pris naissance dans le Frioul, dont les habitants s'appellent Forlans'. D'Alembert says that it has 'un mouvement mod£r£, moyen entre la loure et la gigue'. The dance flourished especially during the Regency. 240
Thb Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
Like the sarabande, the minuet seems progressively to have slowed down in tempo. In Couperin's time it was written in 3 :4 or 3 : 8, and had 'une elegante et noble simplicite; le mouvemcnt en est plus modere que vite, et Ton peut dire que le moins gai de tous les genres de danse usites dans nos bals est le minuet. C'est autre chose sur le theatre'. (Rousseau.) Couperin's minuets would seem to be closer to those of the theatre than to those of the ballroom. They are graceful, but should flow along quite speedily. The passepied is similar, and still faster.' Une espace de minuet fort vif', it is usually in 3 : 8, beating one a bar. Unlike the minuet, it begins on the third quaver, not the first, and introduces frequent syncopations. Both are sophisticated dances, with regional origins.
The musette is much favoured by Couperin, and has been admirably described by Rousseau: ' Sorte d'air convenable a l'instrument de ce nom, dont la mesure est a deux ou trois temps, le caractfere naif et doux, le mouvement un peu lent, portant une basse pour l'ordi-naire en tenue ou point d'orgue, telle que la peut faire une musette, et qu'on appelle a cause de cela basse de musette. Sur ces airs onformc des danses d'un caracterc convenable, et qui portent aussi le nom de musettes'. Here the dance is derived from the music, instead of—as is more usual—the music from the dance.
In addition to these specific dance forms, Couperin also uses, as do the opera and ballet composers, the term air to describe dance pieces of a variously characteristic nature. The term no doubt comes from the 'air de symphonie par lequel debute un ballet'; Couperin always qualifies it adjectivally—air tendre, air gracieux, air grave, and so on.
All these dances are treated either in some type of binary form, or in rondeau. If in binary form, the second section, after the modulation to the dominant or relative, may start off with the original theme in the new key, reflecting the material of the first section in the same order; or it may start off with subsidiary material, returning to the original ideas towards the end; or it may include no thematic repetition at all, achieving unity rather by the balance of keys and the grouping of figuration. The second sections, incorporating the modulations, tend to be longer than the first. Most of the more serious binary pieces depend on the growth of linear figuration and harmonic pattern, rather than on the easily recognizable tune. When Couperin writes simple dance tunes, he tends to treat them en ron-Q 241
Francois Couberin: The Work
deau; they are then self-enclosed periods in one section, interspersed with contrasting episodes. Gavotte, minuet, forlane, rigaudon, passe-pied—all the lighter, more tuneful dances are thus treated en rondeau; and the connection of the rondeau with the round suggests a popular origin for this sophisticated technique. Significantly, the more complicated dances, allemandes, sarabandes, and courantes, are never ' rondeau-ed'. The one exception to this is the chaconne; but although the chaconne-rondeau has ceased to be a chaconne, it remains distinct, in its majestic power, from all the more customary, frivolous types of rondeau. Something of the remorselessness of the chaconne's repetitions is transferred into the more lyrical repetitions of the rondeau.
Two or more of the smaller dances are sometimes linked together —gavottes and bourrees in major and minor, for instance, or any of the rustic dances in the minor with a musette in the major. In these interlinked pieces the musette with drone is a prototype of the trio section of what later became the sonata scherzo. As in the classical scherzo, the first dance of the pair is often repeated after the second, making a primitive ternary or 'sandwich' form; this, however, did not become obligatory till some time after Couperin's day.
The first four concerts, Couperin says, are arranged par tons, beginning in G, and proceeding up the cycle of fifths to the key of the dominant—to D, A, and E. Like most of the Preludes, that to the G major concert is influenced by Italian models. Though an elegant piece, light in texture, it has a modulation to A minor, incorporating some abstruse dissonances and a cadential false relation, in a style which is familiar to us from the grander preludes to the violin sonatas:
242
The Concbrts Royaux and Suites for Viols
The allemande is of the leger type, in the usual binary structure, with neat imitative writing but without much polyphonic complexity. Towards the end of the second section a gendy rocking figure suggests an undercurrent of wistfulness:
(J |  j    + *lv				
				
				—-
L-JU—J^JlJ		'i-r J>J	r y-	
4
The sarabande, in the minor, is a simple, noble piece with drooping sevenths in sequence. The remaining movements, gavotte, gigue, and minuet, are slight. The gigue has some amusing repeated scale figures, and the minuet uses floating scale passages in contrary motion.
The second concert is in D. The prelude is gracefully pathetic, with soft appoggiaturas and ornamented suspended sevenths over a chromatic bass. The allemande fuguee is again of the leger variety but, as its tide implies, gives a quite elaborate contrapuntal development to this perky theme:
In the second half the theme is very freely inverted. The air tendre is in the minor, in the style of the air de cour, with portamentos and intermittent canonic entries:
			i—\   0 m \	0        J -	
		"Ti—rl-		u	etc.
	m	^=	d		
M3
Francois Coupbrin: The Work
The air contrefuguée is a counterpart of the allemande, with a similar jaunty subject. Its second section has some wittily unexpected harmonies, similar to those in the Harlequin clavecin pieces:
For the last movement of the concert we have an extremely beautiful rondeau in the Echo convention, comparable in mood with the rondeau of the Imperiale sonata in the same key. Symmetrical clauses, a tranquil rhythm, and a 'luminous' diatonicism produce a Claudelike effect of pastoral serenity:
f rrrrrrrr
m
244
The Concbkts Royaux and Suites for Viols
A couplet in the minor develops a richer harmony. The later statements of the theme are ornamented in the brunete fashion.
A more serious style and more extended developments are observable in the third concert, in A. The prelude, with its contre-partie for viol, violin, flute, or oboe, has a Bachian polyphonic texture; the sense of metre disappears in the interlappings of the lines:
			
			re_/
		
		—
Though lighter in character, the allemande uses a similar technique, and has a typical passage of 'aspiring' chromatic sequences. The courante, in the minor, is more complicated, both rhythmically and harmonically. Although ostensibly a quick piece, it uses diminished intervals with a Purcellian pathos.
With the sarabande grave, we come to a movement which looks far beyond the normal confines of entertainment music; which stands with the greatest sarabandes in the clavecin ordres and violin sonatas. Again it has an additional contre-partie, and the intensity of its polyphony is reinforced by elaborate ornamentation, often producing incidental dissonances, and by considerable rhythmic variety. These points are illustrated in the following quotation; note the stress on
245
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
the chord of the augmented fifth, on the accented second beat of the sarabande rhythm:
\l .1-1 j ■ -m		
iij. ±$ ' -±j^l		
y ' ' m   "ff           '         ' — —	—..__	
i; j—ffjj^j—] i		-<-9-p-1
		4—-
		
f
In the second half, the dissonances are even more abstruse, and the piece has a monumental power worthy of comparison with the greatest dance movements of Bach:
m
WW*
1.5 3
Founded on a little figure in rising thirds, the gavotte is unpretentious, but still somewhat melancholy in tone—'quelquefois gai, quelquefois grave'. The musette, in two sections, one in the major and one in the minor, is a 6 : 8 pastoral over a bourdon, elegant, 246
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols but still with a flavour of folk-song. Its coda is especially beautiful, floating in a summer haze between the major and minor third:
r »r '
We may compare such an effect as this with the tremulous haze into which, in the background of many of Watteau's_/?to champetres, two lovers are strolling.
This large-scale suite ends with a chaconne of the leger type. While this is not a piece of the monumental order of Couperin's chaconnes graves, it is of considerable dimensions, and fine polyphonic workmanship. In the chaconne-rondeau convention, it makes repeated use of dynamic contrasts of fort and doux. The mood again is of pastoral wistfulriess. A couplet in the major, with a drone accompaniment, has a 'glow' comparable with the preceding musette; the main theme, in the minor, is given a tersely linear treatment.
The fourth Concert Royal, in E minor, maintains the high level of the third; indeed it is possibly the finest of the group. The prelude is a noble piece of polyphonic writing which invites comparison with the prelude of the Corelli Apotheose. The ornamented lines are superbly moulded, over a bass which is as much melodic as harmonic in significance. Though a slighter movement, the allemande contains some fascinating imitative treatment of the little rising scale figure with which it opens. The courantefrancaise changes the tonality to the major, and rhythmically and harmonically is even more complicated than the A minor courante. Much of the part-writing depends on opposition between 3 : 2 and 6 : 4 rhythms, occurring simultaneously in different lines; passages of elliptical harmony, created by the movement of the parts, are frequent:
247
The courante a i'italienne returns to the minor and is rhythmically more straightforward. On the other hand, it is possibly the biggest of Couperin's courantes, the second section being developed at more than usual length, with relatively complex modulations. Here the part-writing is fluid, and the harmonies rich. At times there are acute dissonances, and ripe sequential writing:
	JJJJ		JJ.	
$  p g7 Um aj r	- -p-——			
y " ffg--	JTrrni	J         J I	ill .7	
'7 t r r	r r f		- J	
——^—kJ-J		t r....	4--f	
248
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
*>* 1 J? ft ■					
SYt-	J.	"J— --tr^=—'	r	—ft— —J **	-f—Etr Lj ,,j j j j^j
	T—	=r*=		r-^-ff*1 —|	ig*1 ^ **, i
					
"f		•vv			
The trills at the seventeenth, at the end of this passage, are further developed in a longish coda. As a whole, the piece is remarkable for its cantabile lyricism and sonorous harmony.
The sarabande, in the major, has an independent contre-partie, and is in Couperin's trh tendrement, serenely diatonic vein. The second section involves a pathetic modulation to the minor of the dominant, proceeding by way of a flattened seventh in the bass:
S3  J: J>
r r g
X—Z-
The melodies have a Chambonnieres-like fragrance, but are developed with greater architectural control. Also in the major, the rigaudon is a perky dance in binary form with a pseudo-contrapuntal treatment of a little rising fourth motive, which is inverted in the second half. After the entry, there is little pretence of counterpoint. The last movement, Forlane, is in rondeau, and is one of
249
Francois Couperin: The Work
Couperin's most personal conceptions. The tranquilly gay tune again suggests an exquisitely civilized re-creation of a folk-dance:
4
In the couplets the warm harmonies suffuse the music with a mellow Watteau-like sunshine. The last couplet, in the minor, achieves a touching unexpectedness by the simplest of means—a melody biting between the interval of a second and a fourth, with a drone accompaniment rocking on the interval of a sixth:
							—.
4>fl    -   1 m\		--=&■■ if f					
■/    T*        ~-------j— 6 5	6	6 5	-j— 6 6 5		6	6 5	—
The E minor is the last of the Concerts Royaux collection. No. 5, the first suite in the volume which Couperin called Les Gouts Retinis, is in F major, and is slight in texture and character. Its prelude is marked gracieusement, instead of the customary grave; it is a charming piece in 3 : 8, with falling scale figures neady imitated in two parts. The allemande legere is also freely contrapuntal in technique, with a theme leaping up a fifth, and then a sixth, to a tied note. The motive is often imitated in stretto, thereby creating some elliptical phrases across the bar-line:
\R ir it f r=fT=i		-0' '1	0—m—1	* 0
	n	0   m--=—|	m	id— etc.
250
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
Majestically in the minor, the sarabande grave has not the passionate and personal tone of the A minor sarabande; but its phrases have a Handelian grandeur, especially in the final clause, when the line mounts by way of a trill to A flat, and then subsides. Also in the minor, the gavotte is a wistful piece in quaver movement, coulam-tnent. The Muséte dans le Goút de Carillon is a lovely bell piece with the flavour of a vaudeville. It would sound well on a small baroque organ.
The prelude of the sixth concert in B flat is constructed almost entirely out of a tied crochet, followed by a semiquaver figure, usually treated as a resolution of the suspension. The allemande, ä 4 terns légers, is quite a big movement, contrapuntally developed. Delicately dancing, it tosses a little scale figure to and fro between the parts:
Marked noblement, the sarabande mesuree lives up to its pretensions, though it is among the more simply euphonious, and less passionate, of Couperin's sarabandes. Subde effects of cross-rhythm are obtained by the concurrence of an appoggiatura-ornamented main melody, with a triplet figure in the bass:
In the next piece the Devil makes an amiable appearance. This mephisto, though fiery, is as well-mannered as the devils in Lully's
251
Francois Cotjperin: The Work
operas. Electrically shooting scale passages, and the discreet introduction of that diabolus in musica, the tritone, do not substantially modify this Air du Diables urbanity:
	|—3		
	mm	-V-	m f
Its mood and technique may be related to the harlequin and pantomime pieces for clavecin; there is a devil-may-care jauntiness, rather than a daemonic quality, about the persistent leaping sixths. The last movement of this B flat suite is a sicilienne, a smooth 12 : 8 pastoral with a few dissonant canonic entries.
With the seventh concert, we return to a more serious tone. The prelude is both grave and gracieuse. Its lines are beautifully rounded, and repeated entries in stretto give to the level movement a subdued melancholy:
fm	-ft—m-	m u			-0 m — u-	
		tu				
The allemande is gay, its perky theme being treated in unusually sustained canon. Bachian harmonic sequences occur in the piece's extensive development:
m L=±=J	m> r 1	rVfr	-frfr 'r i	e/c. rrritr?
252	^ u d			
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
The sarabande returns to the mood of the prelude; the theme, again imitatively treated, incorporates a rising minor sixth which droops back expressively to the fifth. A relaxed melancholy, derived from the lutenists, is suggested by the chromatic harmony, and by the drooping phrases, sometimes ornamented with appoggiaturas, sometimes built on arpeggio figures:
The Fuguete has this interesting, rather spiky subject:
Despite its tide, it is an extensively developed movement, in a compromise between fugal technique and harmonic binary form; and despite its feathery texture, it shows a Bach-like contrapuntal solidity. After the first section has ended in D, the second half starts off in B flat—the relative major of the original G minor—with a modified version of the theme inverted. The development of the scale passage and the leaping figure create an exciting animation; on the last page a telling climax is reached by stretching the scale passage through an eleventh. The gavotte also uses a rising scale figure,
253
Francois Couperin: The Work
and contains much canonic writing, while the graceful sicilienne has some tritonal progressions in the bass.
This last piece is Italianate in style. The next concert, with the sub-tide Dans le Gout Theatral, is ostensibly French, a miniature Lullian opera in instrumental form, without the recitative. The overture has the familiar ceremonial opening in dotted rhythm, followed by a quick fugal section in triple rhythm. Here the nature of the theme and the texture recalls the French Couperin of the organ masses. The piece rises to a sonorous climax with the appearance of the theme in thirds:
		-*—ff—ff—	1 J JJ J LJl	
*>o rfrr	£=f=s=	r r r		V etc.
In the coda, there is a characteristic false relation. The Grande Ritour-nelle is a stately curtain tune; the opening illustrates the measured dignity, and the powerfully dissonant texture obtained by the use of passing notes and appoggiaturas:
A section in four time leads into a Lullian aria in 3 :2, of a type which had originally been modelled on Carissimi. This piece is imposing, but not among the most interesting of Couperin's movements in this style.
The heroic manner is continued in a French air in a : 2, with chromatic progressions and much gallic ornamentation. The air tendre is a sweetly melancholy brunete; the air leger, in the major, 254
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
another brunete in Couperin's vein of limpid diatonicism. A naive-sophisticated spirit pervades, too, the Loure and the next air tendre, in which an appealing use is made of repeated detached minims. The sarabande grave et tendre is more tendre than grave, halfway between the manner of Chambonnieres and of Handel. The groupings of the phrases, in their level rhythm, are of some subtlety; note how in this passage the rising scale of the third and fourth bars counteracts the falling sequences of the^scale figure of the first two bars:
The poised serenity of the clauses places this among the loveliest of Couperin's spacious, Claude-like movements. Then follow two airs de cour, the second of which has some charming echo effects in false relation. An air de Bacchantes, in the conventional 6 :4 of the operatic bacchanal, brings the work to a rousing conclusion.
In contrast to the Concert dans le Gout Thiatral, the next concert, No. 9 in E, has an Italian title, Ritratto dell' Amore. None the less, though a more Corelhan technique is noticeable in the fugal movements, the work is still French in feeling; indeed, the pieces have French sub-titles, like the clavecin ordres. The French and Italian styles are now equally, and unselfconsciously, a part of Couperin' sensibility. As a whole, this suite is both one of the most representative, and the most beautiful, of the concerts.
The first movement, Le Charme, is more gracieuse than grave, though'it is 'marked botLTts pellucid, polyphony often creates an impressionistic sonority:
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255
Francois Couperin: The Work
L'Enjouement is an allemande legere in fugal binary form, with the theme inverted in the second half. Suspensions, syncopations, and stretti suggest a delicate impudence. Les Graces is a courante francoise, and one of the most complex of this type in rhythm, ornamentation and harmony. It is a revealing instance of the way in which Couperin's harmonic surprises are often the result of linear independence:
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Le Je He ifaw is based on a cheeky triadic figure which is later wittily treated in stretto:
e/c.
In the same mood is La Vivacite, but the canonic passages are here more consistently developed, exciting use being made of scale passages travelling both ways. In the minor key, the sarabande, La 256
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
Noble Fierte, opens with a magnificent phrase, involving a falling tenth, which fully lives up to the piece's title:
Gravement
In the second section a long falling scale passage in rising sequences builds up a climax of a paradoxically passionate sobriety. The minor key is retained for the next piece, La Douceur, one of Couperin's intimate linear movements in a quiet 3 : 8. The ornamented flow of the lines and the use of sequences produce some piquant harmonies and modulations:
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L'Er Ccetera is a rustic 6 : 8 movement, with a rising third and falling scale passage in canon. The second part, in the minor, is atmospheric, a repeated phrase droningly revolving on itself.
Of equally fine quality is the next concert, No. 10 in A minor. The prelude is one of the most concentrated examples of Couperin's r 257
Francois Couperin: The Work
polyphony, in which the lines create the intense harmony—note, for instance, the Neapolitan sixth effect in the penultimate bar:
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The 4 : 8 air tendre is also meditative in tone; and here too the economical part-writing leads to some acute dissonances. Plaintes, the next movement, is for two viols and string bass without continuo. The viols play mainly in dotted rhythm, in thirds and sixths, while the bass reiterates a pedal note; the effect is sensuously rich:
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etc.
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viois
A change to the minor is made for the second part, which is more linear and austere. The last movement, La Tromba, is a jaunty binary piece built on a 6 : 8 trumpet arpeggio; at the end, some imitations in stretto are irresistibly comic:
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A somewhat sombre temper characterizes most of the eleventh concert, in C minor. A longish 3 :2 prelude in consistent dotted rhythm has power and dignity. The allemande, markedyiereme»f, is in fugal binary form, with an angular, instrumental subject such as one frequently meets with in Bach's work:
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The second allemande, plus leger, is smoother, containing a higher proportion of conjunct motion; the theme is freely inverted after the double bar. Both the courantes, one in the major and one in the minor, are of the French type. The first is particularly free in its rhythmic ellipses between soprano and bass, combined with much ornamentation. In the second courante trills are used in animated ascending sequences.
The Sarabande, tres grave et tris marque, is one of the most notable of Couperin's pieces in the tombeau convention. The lines use energetic dotted rhythms and a plethora of tremblements, mordents, and portamentos; these elements, however, serve to reinforce phrases— usually built on spread chord formations—which are at once violent
259
Francois Coupbrin: The Work
and monumental. The tonal sequences and harmonies are exceptionally bold, even including a cadential chord of the thirteenth:
The gigue louree is a fascinating piece of contrapuntal writing, phrased, like so much of Bach, across the bar lines, with frequent dissonant appoggiaturas. Such appoggiaturas play an important part, too, in the line of the concluding rondeau. This is a dialogue between melody and bass, a quiet 3:8 built mainly from semiquavers grouped in pairs. While having no outstanding feature, it is one of those movements, leger etgalant, to which one must be able to respond if one is fully to appreciate Couperin's savour.
The next two concerts are for two viols, mostly unaccompanied. They belong to the great French tradition of viol music, which we shall refer to in greater detail later. Although not musically among the most interesting of the concerts, the economy of their part-writing is a delight throughout. The prelude to the A major suite is in a pointe 3 :2, and, as so often occurs in the prelude of the da chiesa sonata, it repeatedly employs trills, with turns, on the second beat of the sarabande rhythm, sometimes in ascending sequences. Badinage is a quick contrapuntal movement, with a brilliant conclusion in thirds. It is separated from the final air by a short slow recitative section, again on the analogy of the sonata da chiesa. This 260
Thb Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
is marked patetiquement, and is a very emotional piece with whirling portamentos and grinding appoggiaturas:
The air is suave, in regular semiquavers, moving mainly by step.
If the twelfth concert had affinities with the Italian sonata, the thirteenth is again unambiguously in French suite form. The prelude, on a lhtle arpeggio figure, is consistendy canonic. The air, agreable-ment in the minor, uses an imitative technique in 6 : 8, with interestingly irregular phrase grouping—the first section contains eleven bars, and is answered by a section of fifteen. Calm and warm in its diatonicism, the sarabande returns to the major. Finally the chaconne legere is based on a brief rising scale figure and leaping fourth, with a rather odd ambiguity between major and minor third. The figure is later presented in a modified form inverted, and developed in free fugue.
The fourteenth and last concert in D is a fine one. The grave prelude is powerful in its harmonies, both those contained in the continuo, and those produced by the lines' complex ornamentation:
Francois Couperin: The Work
Here the French clotted rhythm is used within an Italianate movement; while the climax has a Bach-like combination of discipline with emotion. The same architectural logic is found in the alle-mande's development of an arpeggio-founded figure; Bachian sequences and syncopated phrase-groupings show a fine mastery of instrumental technique. A nobly drooping figure characterizes the theme of the sarabande; note how the falling interval contracts in the first four repetitions, and expands in the following three:
In the second half, the interval is stretched to a sweeping seventh, conveying a sense of emotional liberation.
The last movement, modesdy called Fuguete, is a fully developed contrapuntal piece. The 6 : 8 theme, again phrased across the bar, is closely wrought, with syncopations and sequential chromaticisms:
262
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
A second subject in semiquavers, founded on arpeggio figuration, is later introduced and cunningly combined with the first theme. As a whole, the piece is a splendid example of classical counterpoint and a fitting conclusion to the whole series.
We have now finished our survey of Couperin's concerted music; but there is one more work—or rather a group of two works— which may conveniently be dealt with at this point, since it is conceived in the same form of the French suite, and since its date is contemporary with the last concerts. The suites for two viols were Couperin's last published work, apart from the fourth book of clavecin pieces. The title-page of this publication, which was rediscovered by Bouvet early in the twentieth century, runs 'Pieces de viole, avec la Basse Chiffree, par M. F. C. Paris, Boyvin, 1728'. The identification of this M. F. C. with Couperin is open to no doubt. It is supported not only by stylistic considerations and by the fact that the suites contain many signs and phrase markings which were used by no other composer, but also by tine privilege du roi which accompanies the publication, and by Couperin's own catalogue of 1730, which mentions some suites for viols appearing, in his ceuvre, between Les Nations and the fourth book of clavecin pieces. The date 1725, given in the catalogue of the Mercure de France in 1729, is supported by no other contemporary document, and is presumably false.
These two suites, coming at the end of Couperin's life, are also the end of a great tradition. The midsummer of the French solo viol music lasted from about 1660 to Couperin's death. If it seems odd that the full flowering of this music should occur at a time when the viol was being superseded by the violin, we must remember that there was still a tendency for the most sophisticated members of this hyper-cultivated society to regard the violin as a rather low and undignified instrument. Hubert le Blanc's Defense de la Basse Viole repeatedly points out that the veiled tone and the nature of the bowing of the viol gave it a superior subtlety in the conveyance of emotional nuance; while Rousseau, speaking of the 'Pieces d'Har-monie reglees sur la viole' says:
La tendresse de son Jeu venoit de ces beaux coups d'archet qu'il animoit, & qu'il adoucissoit avec tant d'adresse et si a propos, qu'il
263
Francois Couperin: The Work.
, charmoit tous ceux qui l'entendoient, & c'est ce qui a commence a dormer la perfection a la Viole & a la faire estimer preferablement i tous les autres instruments.
(Trnité de la Viole, 1687.)"
By Coupcrin's time, as we have seen, the violin had occasioned a fashionable furore, and Couperin made his own impressive contribution to its literature. But it is possible that, even in his day, in the innermost circle of the Elect, the old instrument was still more fashionable than Fashion.
During the grand siecle, as the violin had replaced the viol as the stock instrument for dance and other occasional musics, the older instrument had begun to develop a virtuoso tradition. Like the lute, it had become an instrument of the ruelles and salons. Maugars and the other early violists had been in the main occasional composers, as were the early lutenists; Marin Marais and Forqueray and the other composers of the solo viol's heyday were, like the later lutenists, the product of an intellectual and emotional esotericism. We may compare them with the English violists of the court of Charles I and the Interregnum, such as William Lawes, Jenkins, and Simpson. Though the English composers remained more conscious of their polyphonic ancestry, it may have been merely the Civil War that prevented them from developing the virtuoso solo aspects of their tradition—as represented by Simpson's Divisions—into a classical Augustan homophony.
The nature of this virtuoso music was in part conditioned by the physical nature of the viol, a six-stringed instrument with a flat back and a flat bridge, which made chord playing relatively easy. The tuning, like that of the lute, was in fourths, with a third between the third and fourth strings—D, G, C, E, A, D; Marin Marais used a viol which had a seventh string, the low A in the bass. In the preface to his Pieces de Viole of 1685, de Machy explains that the viol may be used simply as a melody instrument, accompanied by continuo, or
s* Cf. also, Mersenne: 'car le Violon a trop de rudesse, d'autant que Ton est constraint a le montér de trop grosses cordes pour esclater dans les suiets, auxquels il est naturellement propre.' (Harmonie Universale, 1636.)
Pierre Trichet, in his Traité on viol playing, praises the instrument for its 'mignards tremblements' and the 'coups mourants de l'archet'.
264
The Concerts Rotaux and Suites for Viols
it may be used as a bass for one's own singing; but its most characteristic activity is as a solo instrument playing both melody and harmony. It is possible, he points out, to make a pleasing sound by playing a tunc with one hand on the clavecin, but nobody would call that real clavecin playing. Similarly, the viol can play a single melody very agreeably if need be, but the instrument fully reveals itself only when it is played solo, its melodies being harmonized with rich chords and arpeggio devices, often involving big leaps. It is this manner of treating the solo viol which was adapted to the violin by German composers such as Biber, Baltzar, and J. S. Bach. If one objects that in this style it is impossible to play cantabile, and with an expressive use of ornaments, the answer is that everything depends on the skill of the player. It is true, too, that the range of tonalities in which one can play fluently in the harmonized style is limited— D, G, A, and E minor are the keys most convenient to the timing, in which sextuple stopping is easily practicable on the D major triad. Composers trained in the old linear traditions would not, however, find this lack of tonal variety cramping.
The French violists have left fewer works for unaccompanied viols than their English predecessors. But it is clear in most of their works for one or two viols and continuo that they habitually thought of the viol as a solo harmonizing instrument. The richness of the chords and the mellowness of the tone enhance the elegiac quality of their lyricism. Thus the feeling, as well as the technique and timing, is close to the tradition of the lutenists; most strikingly of all, the viol composers resemble the lutenists in the way they reconcile their ripe harmonic technique with an extreme delicacy and sophistication of ornament. The basis of this ornamentation and of certain rhythmic conventions is identical with that of the lute music of the court. Ports de voix, tremblements, pinces, and batteries abound, while the technique of the stringed instrument encourages the use of exaggerated portamento effects. In some of the later viol composers, even so fine a one as de Caix d'Hervelois, the ornamentation is apt to get out of hand; the hyper-sophistication of the music seems somewhat precious, just as the degenerated vocal tradition relapses into an excessive finickiness. In the work of the masters of the medium, however, notably Marais and Forqueray, the subtleties of ornamentation
365
Francois Couperin: The Work
intensify the grand pathos of the lyrical line; and Marin Marais, Lully's pupil and Couperin's almost exact contemporary, must be accounted an artist of Racinian power in his music's fusion of dignity, subdety, and lyrical ardour. His variations on La Folia are, for instance, more nobly distinguished than Corelli's famous set. Forqueray's work is scarcely inferior in grandeur, while being harmonically even more audacious.
Not even Marais or Forqueray, however, achieved a work of such ripe beauty as Couperin's two suites which, like so many aspects of the work of Bach, are the last word, and the most significant, in a particular language. They may not have the nervous virility of the B minor Passacaille, or the subtle energy of the Corelli Apotheose or L'Imperiale sonata, Couperin's finest contributions to the more modern violin medium; but on the whole they are possibly Couperin's greatest instrumental work.
The suites are written for two viols, one of them figured. In the original editions there is some confusion between singular and plural on the title-page, for the works are variously described as 'Pieces de violes' and as 'Suites de viole'. This confusion has led to some speculation about the manner in which Couperin intended them to be performed. The most probable explanation is that Couperin had in mind two alternatives. The pieces could either be played by two viols unaccompanied; or the first viol part, which is of a highly virtuoso character, could be played by a soloist, while the second part was played as a bass in conjunction with a harpsichord continuo. The prevalence of multiple stopping and the extraordinary richness of the texture suggests that Couperin regarded the unaccompanied version as aesthetically the more satisfying. As unaccompanied pieces they would be completely in accordance with the viol tradition.
The E minor suite has a Handelian grandeur together with a personal harmonic complexity. In \hc grave prelude, the solo or virtuoso viol part is characterized by its sweeping phrases, swirling porta-mentos, and passionate ornamentation. The harmony, enriched by the double and triple stopping of the solo-part, has tremendous resonance—for instance this use of the chord of the ninth:
266
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The allemande is as complicated, linearly and rhythmically, as the most abstruse examples of Bach; the leaps and phrase groupings of the solo part produce a quasi-polyphonic effect almost comparable with that of Bach's suites and sonatas for a solo stringed instrument:
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The sonorous chord of the ninth is again in evidence. Similar effects are obtained through big leaps in the energetic courante, which also has powerful chromatic progressions in double stopping:
267
Francois Couperin: The Work
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The sarabande is one of Couperin's noblest movements, again very rich in harmony, making a majestically strenuous use of the French dotted rhythm. The gavotte and gigue are somewhat less remarkable, but have a tautness of line and harmony which is unexpected in these dances. The gavotte flows in a quiet quaver movement, "with melancholy, drooping appoggiaturas.
The final Passacaille is in the major, and for the first time lets the sun into this majestically gloomy work. The diatonic radiance of the lines and harmonies is familiar to us from some movements in the violin sonatas and clavecin pieces; in the viol Passacaille it acquires a dynamic drive which we do not normally associate with Couperin. As the couplets evolve trills and turns, bouncy dotted rhythms and flowing scale passages, the music becomes a joyous carillon. The minor couplets enhance the passion with sonorous double stoppings and sequential sevenths:
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268
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
and the return to the major, Gay, brings the work to a virtuoso conclusion in a blaze of baroque ornamentation, repeated notes and arpeggios.
This glowing resonance is the dominant feature of the whole of the A major suite. The prelude has not the E minor's ordered dolour, but a ceremonial splendour. Long curving lines polyphonically treated, luxuriant ornamentation, ripe sequences, double stoppings, and flexible, strong rhythms combine with a dignified exuberance. The Fuguete is in fact a fully developed polyphonic movement of over six pages, going through a wide range of keys, with exciting syncopations and a lucidly flowing texture.
The Pompe Funebre is the most magnificent of all pieces in the tombeau tradition. It has a Racinian gravity and power; one can appreciate its background more adequately if one relates it to the rhetoric of the funeral orations of Bossuet or to the wonderful Pompe Funebre scene in Lully's Alceste:
Troupe de femmes afHigees, troupes d'hommes desoles, qui portent des fleurs et tous les ornamens qui ont servi a parer Alceste. Un transport de douleur saisit les troupes afHigees; une partie declare ses habits, 1'autre arrache les cheveux, et chacun brise au pied de l'image d'Alceste les ornamens qu'il porte a la main.
Within the majestic lines of the simple binary structure, the details of ornamentation and harmony are exceptionally rich; there is a still greater profusion of double stoppings and chromatic harmonies— notice in this passage the chord of the ninth once more, the abrupt transition to the G major triad, and the repeated trills and turns (see next page).
After this tragic funeral fresco, the work ends with a typical CouperinyeH d'esprit, with the enigmatic tide of La Chemise blanche. This has a virtuoso first viol part in a chattering moto perpetuo. The second section, in the major, though still impudent, recovers enough of the gallantry of the earlier movements to make the piece a convincing epilogue to the whole work.
The suites for viols, and a few movements in the concerts, stand among the very greatest of Couperin's achievements. Normally, however, it is not for profundity or tragic passion that we go to these pieces; we find in them rather the most beautiful and civilized occasional music in European history. To them the definition of
269
Francois Couperin: The Work
Descartes—'la fin de la musique est de nous charmer et d'evoquer en nous de diverses sentiments'—is peculiarly appropriate, and we remember that Couperin himself said, 'J'aime mieux ce qui me touche que ce qui me surprend'. This is music of'les charmes de la vie', as witty and exquisite as the conversation of the young ladies
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270			'..............-a .......—'
The Concerts Royaux and Suites for Viols
and gendemen in the paintings of Watteau.2* But, like the paintings of Watteau, it repeatedly gives one a glimpse of unsuspected horizons, and it is in no way inconsistent with the most profound aspects of Couperin's work. There is no music that demonstrates more clearly how narrow, in a civilized society, is the line between art and entertainment; we may learn from it how the music of the casual glance, the fortuitous conversation, may imperceptibly merge into one of the noblest manifestations of European culture. It is apposite that we should end our survey of Couperin's work with music that has such direct social validity, that so intimately reminds us of those values and standards from an examination of which this book began. No aspect of Couperin's work reveals more lucidly that those values and standards depended, not on the denial of the life of the individual member of society, but on a profound appreciation of the issues involved in his relation to the community. These works are not, with the exceptions already mentioned, the greatest of Couperin's creations; but they are perhaps the most essential for an understanding of his work's nature and significance.
** Cf. M. de Grenailles, L'honncstc Gordon ou I'art de bien ilever la noblesse, 1642: ' Quant a l'adresje aux honnestes exerctces, il faut qu'un jeune homme sache chanter et danser autant qu'il en faut, cela veut dire qu'il prenne ces divertissements pout les ornamens de la vie commune plustdt que pour des occupations continues.'
271
Chapter Eleven
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
In this book we have devoted separate chapters to each genre 01 Couperin's work and have made litde attempt to discuss the evolution of his music chronologically. This method seemed, on the whole, the least unsatisfactory, particularly since Couperin is not the kind of composer whose work undergoes any startling transformations or changes of front. But of course his music does develop. Innately lucid of mind, he writes with a progressively increasing precision; and the greatest precision entails the greatest subdety.
The organ masses (1690) present us with most of the essential materials—the symmetrical diatonic melodies, related both to folksong and to the sophisticated air de cour, the baroque ornamentation of this melody, tending to dissolve the rigidity of the metre; the transparent texture of a polyphonic technique inherited from the seventeenth-century organists; the Purcell-like harmonic flexibility; the formal proportions derived from the theatre music of Lully. The early violin sonatas (1692-95) bring a more lyrical and operatic type of melody; a compromise between the soloists' polyphony and the homophony of the continuo; and a growing sense of harmonic order learned from Corelli in particular. Certain recognizable Couperin traits begin to appear—a fondness for rich spacing and harmonies, especially ninth chords, disciplined by the economy of texture; a peculiar melting effect produced by hushed suspensions in dotted rhythm; a partiality for the 'touching' effect of the sharp seventh in the ascent, followed by the flat seventh descending; many abstruse dissonances created by appoggiaturas and other ornaments derived from the air de cour; and a favourite modulation to the minor of the dominant.
The period of the church music and the early clavecin pieces (1697 to 1715) blends these French and Italian elements in forms adapted 272
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
from the church music of Carissimi, Charpentier, and. Lully. During the period of Les Gouts Reunis (1715 to 1730), the Concerts Royaux, the later clavecin pieces, and the last violin sonatas make use of all these elements, but tend to encourage the French elements at the expense of the Italian. Certain dissonances, spread chord effects, dotted rhythms and portamentos suggested by the lutenists and violists, help Couperin to achieve some of his grandest creations, particularly in sarabande form. And although he is beginning to relinquish his seventeenth-century-like compromise between polyphony and homophony in favour of a balanced harmonic architecture, it is during this period that we become most clearly aware that his technique is founded on a dialogue between soprano and bass. Here, too, we find his most contrapuntally taut and powerful work, that which most invites comparison with the lucid complexity of Bach. We may refer especially to some of the allemandes, and to L'Apotheose de Corelli and L'Imperiale, music in which, as in Bach's work, vertical harmonies are given subtlety and virility through the independence of the parts that make them up, while at the same time the contour of the lines is conditioned by a clearly defined scheme of tonal order. Finally, in the precision of workmanship in his last compositions, such as the fourth book of clavecin pieces and the suites for viols, all suspicion of influences, French or Italian, has vanished. He has created an idiom which we can regard both as a triumph of the declining civilization in which he lived, and as perhaps the most central expression of the French tradition.
In 1733, the year in which Couperin died, Rameau, who had been Couperin's neighbour in the rue des Bons Enfants, produced his first opera. The association of the French musical tradition with the theatre was re-established; it was to continue, more or less unbroken, down to our own day. This renewed association was a further growth of the less autocratic culture we have already noticed in Couperin, and it is ironic that the emergence of a more 'popular' culture should—as the level of taste declined—eventually lead a sensitive spirit, such as Claude Debussy, to the Ivory Tower. Couperin's work, however, attains the perfect equilibrium between an aristocracy of form and an intimate emotion; he could have occurred only at that precise moment in French history. In the work of a Lebrun, the formal gesture defeats the artist's integrity; in the s 273
Francois Couperin: The Work
work of a Boucher, emotional indulgence reduces the art to (very charming) sensory tittilation, without—in the widest sense—any moral implications. But in Watteau we find emotional intimacy together with a formal control which reflects a moral and spiritual order. Couperin's relationship to most of his disciples seems to me exactly to parallel that of Watteau to Boucher.
With the great exceptions of Rameau and Leclair, and to a lesser degree Mondonville and Clerambault, Couperin's disciples are musical Bouchers. They write to please; and please they do, for one could scarcely imagine a more deliciously sensuous entertainment music than the Conversations Galantes et Amüsantes of Dandrieu, Dornel, Du Phly, and Daquin in clavecin music, of Guillemain, Mouret, Blavet, Corrette, and Boismortier in concerted music for strings and wind instruments. Their work implies an instinct for social elegance; their indulgence of their emotions never prevents them from raising their hats and making their bow in the appropriate places. But they have forgotten why they raise their hats. The gesture is automatic; they act from habit, having lost their guiding sense of a moral order.
The best of Couperin's minor disciples, Dandrieu and Dagincour, are thus, despite great sensibility and charm, derivative in a bad sense; and they are essentially miniaturists, which Couperin, essentially, was not. Even Rameau, Couperin's peer in the French classical tradition, does not achieve in his keyboard music the close texture of Couperin's finest work. His is more harmonic, less linear in lay-out, more virtuoso and theatrical in treatment. It is more brilliant, and more immediately emotional than Couperin's work; but it is not therefore more profound. Perhaps Rameau's very finest pieces, such as the superb A minor allemande and in a quieter vein Les Tendres Plaintes, are an exception to this, having much of Couperin's sombre dignity. But they are less characteristic of his work than an audaciously imaginative, 'colouristic' piece like he Rappel des Oiseaux; a grand Handelian piece like the Gavotte with variations or the A major Sarabande; or an expansive virtuoso piece such as Les Tourbil-lons, Les Cyclopes, with its non-melodic Alberti bass, La Dauphine, La Triomphante, or the exciting rondeau Les Niais de Sologne. All these, in the Handehan fashion, are based more on arpeggio formations than on scale-wise motion: 274
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
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Couperin, Eke Bach, on the whole favours conjunct motion rather than arpeggio figures.
Rameau, unlike Couperin, looks forwards rather than backwards. There are passages in his clavecin works—which were all written early in his career, before he began to take himself seriously as an operatic composer—which already give intimation of eighteenth-century sonata style. La Poule is a genuine harpsichord piece in the classical baroque tradition; yet towards the end, just before the coda, there is a passage, harping on the chord of the dominant seventh, which has in miniature the structural and harmonic effect of the cadenza to the Mozartian concerto:
Francois Coupbrin: The Work
There is nothing comparable with this in Couperin. Similarly one of the most remarkable of Rameau's pieces, L'Enharmonique, is deliberately a study in tonal relationships. It has a diminished seventh cadence which is not produced by linear movement, but which is harmonic in its own right, marking a rhetorical or dramatic point in the structure, as do the cadences in the eighteenth-century sonata:
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Rameau's delightful Pieces de clavecin en concert, cast in the three-movement Italian form of allegro-andante-allegro, illustrate this progressive 'modernism' even more clearly. Their keyboard part is not a continuo part like that of Couperin's trio sonatas, nor a piece of polyphonic writing like that of Bach's sonatas. The keyboard is treated as a virtuoso solo instrument, in a way that suggests Haydn and Mozart's treatment of the combination of piano with strings. The relation of the string writing to the new bourgeois rococo style becomes patent in the version for string sextet which some disciple made after Rameau had deserted chamber music for the theatre.
Perhaps the most uluminating instance of the decadence of the French clavecin school is provided by the four volumes of pieces by Du Phly, engraved by Mile Vandome and published by Boyvin in 1755 and subsequently. A few of Du Plily's pieces have still a httle of Couperin's spirit; we may mention a charming rondeau on page 10 of the first book, and the first half of the Gavotte tendrement called La De Villeneuve. But the second half of this piece is explicidy harmonic rather than linear in effect, and in general Du Phly tends to build his 276
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
movements on simple chordal progressions rather than on line. Movements such as La Cozamajor, La Larare, La Victoire, exploit arpeggio and scale figuration in the virtuoso manner of Rameau, though with a vague improvisatory flourish instead of Rameau's intense brilliance. Perhaps the most extreme example of this technique is the very long, and dull, chaconne in F, which has extensive passages of unambiguous Alberti bass—a device which Couperin, as a linear composer, justly regarded with suspicion.
Most of the pieces in the fourth book, which seems to be of somewhat later date than the others, have a 'tune' at the top, with many sequential repetitions, accompanied by Alberti basses; La De Guign and La Du Drummond are typical examples. The third volume includes pieces in concert with violin; even the first volume ends with a piece in C, marked Ugerement, which is built out of more than usually footling scale passages and arpeggios rounded off, after a double bar, with a reiterated Handelian full close—a musical method of saying The End which is almost comic in its naivete.
It is clear that Couperin stood for something which, by Du Phly's time, already belonged to a past world. Apart from Rameau, only the great Leclair came close to Couperin's elegiac aristocracy, and even he developed a more symphonic and harmonic style. Although like Rameau he favoured a monothematic as much as a bithematic technique, in his work too the suite is superseded by the Italian concerto and the classical triptych of allegro-andante-allegro. Couperin stood for somethuig from which the French tradition was turning away. His influence survived in France for barely twenty-five years after his death. By 1771 Grimm was able to say: 'il y a deux choses auxquelles les Francois seront obliges de renoncer t6t ou tard, leur musique et leurs jardins'. The noble architectural symmetry of the classical tradition had perished.24
Couperin had an enthusiastic Belgian disciple in J. H. Fiocco. Some of his pieces make a genuine attempt to reproduce both
u An interesting gloss on the inability of the Handelians to appreciate Couperin's liaear idiom is provided by Dr Buraey's comments on his ornamentation: 'The great Couperin... was not only an admirable organist but, in the style of the times, an excellent composer for keyed instruments. His instructions for fingering, in his L'Art de Toucher le Clavecin, are still good; tho' his pieces are so crowded and deformed by beats, trills and shakes, that no plain note was ever left to enable the hearer of them to judge whether the tone of the instrument on which they were played was good or bad.' (A General History of Music.)
277
Francois Couperin: The Work
Couperin's complexity of line (L'Inconstante or the dotted rhythmed allemande from the D minor suite), and his serene naivete (La Legere, the two gavottes from the D minor suite). Les Promenades de Bierbeeck ou de Buerbeeck is a very close imitation of one of Couperin's gende flowing 3 : 8 movements with consistent semiquaver figuration. The pieces are not however very distinguished, and are all disfigured by clumsy passages of parallel octaves which betray Fiocco's inability to maintain a consistendy linear style. Even in these his most Couperin-like pieces he seems in danger of falling into the easy homophonic style galant of a Du Phly; in pieces such as La Fringante or L'Anglaise he quite explicidy writes straightforward arpeggiated movements in the Italianate Handelian style. Most of the other Belgian clavecinists, such as Boutmy and Gheyn, also use the Italian technique. Such relations as they have with Couperin are only superficial.
In England and Italy the music of Lully had exerted a most powerful influence, but the influence died with the culture that produced it, if we except the reminiscences of Lully in Handel's English work. Only in Germany was the French spirit deeply entrenched.
Because of the time lag occasioned by the Thirty Years' War Germany was culturally somewhat behind the times, so that the French vogue in Germany came to its height after la gloire had decayed. Communications between France, Belgium, and southern Germany were stimulated by the Bavarian alliance, and French culture became the accepted criterion of taste. In the last decade of the seventeenth century German composers were as eager to emulate Lully as were their aristocratic patrons to emulate Lully's master the Roi Soleil. French musicians such as Buffardin frequently visited Germany, castles were built in Germany on the model of Versailles, and a movement that had started in the Catholic south soon spread to Prussia and the north. Frederick the Great was to entertain Voltaire, and to speak French more graciously than German.
Even before Lully's triumph composers such as Rosenmuller and Bleyer had been influenced by the French ballet. By the end of the seventeenth century many German composers had gone to Paris to study the French methods under Lully himself. Possibly J.J. Frober-ger was a professional copyist in French employment; he wrote clavecin works—including a highly impressive piece modelled on 278
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
Louis Couperin's Totnbeau deM Blancrocher—which derive from the lute-like French keyboard style. Erlebach and Mayr were for a time among Lully's pupils, writing quantities of dance suites in the French manner; while in 1682 J. S. Kusser published in Stuttgart his Composition de musique suivant la methode Jrancaise, contenant six Ouvertures de Theatre accompagnees de plusieurs Airs. A little later appeared Johann Casper Fischer's Le Journal de Printemps consistant en Airs et Balets a 5 parties et les Trompettes h plaisir, entrancingly fresh occasional music modelled on the Musique pour le Souper du Roi of La Lande and others. The first volume of Fischer's clavecin music was published in 1696. Most of the little dances are a more muscular version of those of Chambonnieres, though some of the big chaconnes, notably the G major, are worthy of Lully himself.26
The most notable of all Lully's German pupils and disciples was, however, Georg Muffat, whose Florilegia suites were published in 1695. Muffat, who came from Passau, had at one time played in Lully's orchestra. In his preface to the Florilegia, he maintained that of Lully's work he had 'fait autre fois a Paris pendant six ans un assez grand Estude ... a mon retour de France je fus peut-estre le premier qui en apportay quelque idee assez agreable aux musiciens de bon gout, en Alsace'. (My italics.) He can hardly have been justified in claiming to be the first German composer to use the French style, but it is true that he offers an example 'd'une melodie naturelle, d'un chant facile et coulant, fort eloigne d'artifices superflus, des diminutions extravagantes', and that for solidity of part-writing and richness of harmony his example could hardly be improved upon. Each suite has a title referring to some human quality (Grati-tudio, Impatientia, Constanzia, etc.), and the titles of the individual pieces that make up the suites are in French. Some are dances— allemandes, bourrees, sarabandes, canaris, ballets, airs, passepieds, and so on; others are of a descriptive nature—Les Gendarmes, Balet pour les Amazones, even Gavotte de Marly. Each suite is prefaced by a full-scale Lullian overture, complete with double dotted rhythm, the familiar crochet tied to a semiquaver figuration tjjFJ=J3 »
18 The most interesting pieces in the collection are not, however, in the French style, but in the German development of Italian toccata technique which Bach was to use with wonderful effect in such things as the Chromatic Fantasia. Some of Fischer's preludes, for instance the D major, are remarkably bold experiments in harmonic progression.
279
Francois Couperin: The Wore
a triple-rhythmed fugal section often with a rousing conclusion in parallel thirds. These overtures, and the other big movements such as the passacailles, are exceptionally fine, with all Lully's sonorous grandeur and, in addition, a certain Germanic sobriety. One may mention, in particular, the G minor overture, and the Passacaille in A minor. Like Couperin, Muffat was later much influenced by Corelli as well as Lully, and published a series of Italianate concerti grossi.
By the time Couperin had become a musical celebrity, the taste for things French was thus well-established in Germany, and it is not surprising that he too became a dominating force in German music, particularly keyboard music. Fux and Telemann copied not only Couperin's tides, but also his airy texture, and the more percussive features of his style. Telemann was especially francophile; 'les airs francois', he said, 'ont replace chez nous la vogue qu'avaient les cantates italienncs. J'ai connu des Allemands, des Anglais, des Russes, des Polonais, et meme des Juifs, qui savaient par cceur des passages entieres de Bellerophon et A'Atys de Lully'. He was fortunate enough to have his quartets for flute and strings played by such distinguished performers as Blavet,88 Guignon, Forqueray, and Edouard, while in 1728 a Psalm and cantata of his composition were performed with considerable success at a Concert Spiritual. He published a work called Musique de table, partagee en trois Productions, dont chacune con-tient I'Ouverture avec la suite a 7 instruments. The dances include such typically French forms as the forlane, passepied, loure, chaconne, musette, and rondeau, and the tides suggest a complete Watteau decor, with Rejouissance, Allegresse, Badinerie, Flatterie, and even Bergerie, Harlequinade, and La Douceur. Telemann's treatment of the style is, however, more unambiguously homophonic than Couperin's; for his sympathies, as J. S. Bach realized, were associated more with the new kind of symphonic music than with the old linear style of the classical baroque.
96 Blavet admired Telemann's work greatly, and, as Lionel de Laurencie has pointed out, his own music betrays Telemann's influence, both in some of its ornamentation and in certain pedal effects—for instance, the tonie pedal for the flute in the Prelude to Blavet's Neuveaux Quatuonrs of 1738. In general, the German composers had a slight reciprocal influence on their French hosts. It is noticeable as late as 1768, in Corrette's Cinauante Pikes ou Canons lyriques a deux, trois, ou quatre voix, which are modelled on Telemann's canons. In 1746 an article on La Corruption du Godt dans la Musique Francaise, published in the Memoires de TreVoux, mentions Telemann among other baleful foreign corruptions, such as Vivaldi, Locatelli, and Handel. 280
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
A more significant mingling of French and German styles is provided by the most distinguished of Couperin's German disciples, Georg MufFat's son Gottlieb, and Johann Mattheson, who in his Kernmelodische Wissenschaft of 1736 recommended the French style to young composers, because 'Frankreich ist und bleibt die rechte Tanzschule'. This verdict on the 'claire et facile' melody of the French, as opposed to Italian complexity, was endorsed by the theoretician Quantz, after he had spent several months in Paris in the late seventeen twenties. Like that of Telemann the musical thought of Muffat and Mattheson is more consistendy homophonic than Couperin's, and their texture is thicker; but they discover a common denominator between the French and German styles, and one may regard them, perhaps, as a cross between Couperin and Handel. Mattheson's allemandes are often quite involved, in the manner of Couperin and Bach—for instance that from the C minor suite:
His more customary manner is represented by the Air with doubles in arpeggio accompaniment, from the same suite, or by the melancholy sarabande with variations from the F minor suite, Handelian in technique, but more austere in feeling:
281
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
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MufFat, on the other hand, with his south German Catholic background, has all Handel's Italianate flamboyance, and writes movements, such as the big prelude and fugue of the B flat suite, in a rhetorical toccata style which Couperin never attempted:
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Some of his finest pieces are chordally accompanied airs in Handelian style, rather more abstruse harmonically—for instance the B flat 282
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
minor sarabande from the same suite, with its poignant Neapolitan sixths:
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and throughout Muffat thinks more 'chordally' than Couperin. He has, however, some fine linear pieces which resemble Bach if not Couperin (the G major, E minor and D minor sarabandes, and the allemandes in D major and D minor); and something of the authentic Couperin spirit still survives in the sprightly courantes, with their contrapuntal entries; in the cross rhythms of the B flat Hornpipe; in the audacious portamentos of La Hardiesse; in the grandly rigid rhythm of the G major chaconne; and especially in the flowing lilt and dissolving harmonies of the G major gigue. Here too the technique depends on harmonic progression rather than linear movement; Couperin does not use the Neapolitan sixth effect in this explicitly chordal form:
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283
Francois Couperin: The Work
But the grace of the movement, with the undercurrent of wistful-ness, recalls Couperin, Watteau, and the world of the fete champitre, and MufFat must have been one of the last composers to understand, intuitively, what the fete champitre had stood for in spiritual terms. Some of Muffat's suites—for instance, the C major and D minor— have an orthodox Lullian overture instead of the toccata prelude. He is a highly impressive keyboard composer whose work ought to be more widely known.
Some of Handel's dances were published in Paris in 1734 by Antoine Bretonne, and were frequently played during the following decade. Reciprocally, both Handel and Bach studied Couperin's work. Although Couperin's influence on Handel, who is temperamentally closer to Lully, can have been merely superficial, we have repeatedly mentioned that Bach found in Couperin a spirit with whom he could sympathize. His own ventures into the French style, in keyboard and orchestral suites, have hide of Couperin's galant finesse, but bring to his linear draughtsmanship an austerely powerful German contrapuntal science. We have frequendy discussed the general similarities between Bach's technique, and Couperin's.
Even in the work of Bach's sons, the influence of Couperin is still discernible, though the use which they make of him differs from their father's. J. S. Bach found in Couperin a composer whose technique was basically linear, like his own; Carl Philipp Emanuel, in his many pieces with French tides,27 such as La Caroline, adapts the
** Many of C. P. E. Bach's pieces with French titles appeared in Marpurg's RaccoUa ielle piit move composizioni di clavicembalo (Leipzig, 1756-57), and thus belong to the middle years of C. P. £. Bach's career. The titles include such characteristic formulae as L'Auguste, La Bergins, La Lott, La Clein, La Prinzette, La Complaisante, La Capri-cieuse, Ulrtesolue, La Joumaliire, La Xenophon, Les Longueurs Tendres. Some of the pieces are reasonably convincing imitations of Couperin; we may mention L'Msoliu and La Joumaliire, especially the latter, with its habitually syncopated phrasing and its characteristic breaks in rhythm. In all, there are twenty-four of these 'French' pieces. On Marpurg, see below. 284
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
binary structure, the airy texture, the staccato arpeggio figuration and the sequential passage-work typical of Couperin's lighter movements (see opposite).
But the form is now harmonically and metrically dictated, in a way which suggests Haydn and the early symphony; witness the pause followed by a Neapolitan sixth in the coda, a device which, depending on harmonic and dynamic contrast, is essentially dramatic and symphonic, rather than a product of linear movement:
m
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etc.
A passage such as this seems to invite orchestral treatment.
Similarly, some of Wilhelm Friedemann Bach's 'French' sara-bandes revealingly illustrate the transformation of the sarabande into the slow movement of the eighteenth-century symphony; and although G. M. Monn has a movement with the authentic-sounding grand-siecle tide of La Personne Galante, it is hardly possible to see any affinity between his music and Couperin, beyond a few skipping staccato figures based on triads. His work, composed about the middle of the century, depends on the tonal principles of the diatonic sonata, and from it to the Mannheim symphonists is but a step. It is no accident that the elder Stamitz first achieved fame, in the seventeen fifties, before a middle-class audience in France, as chef d'orchestre to the enterprising Le Riche de la Poupliniere; and that the symphonic works of the younger Stamitz and the other Mannheimers were first published in Paris. The age of classical aristocracy, of the
385
Francois Couperin: The Work
late baroque, is outmoded by the age of the rococo. If we take Johann Stamitz and C. P. E. Bach as representative of the two main strands of the new period, we may say that in Stamitz we find the deliberate cultivation of a bold popular style, designed to have a commercial appeal to a relatively wide audience; while in C. P. E. Bach's later work we find a romantic individualism, a preoccupation with sensibilite, expressed not only in the almost lushly harmonic nature of the slow movements, but even in his dedication of his volumes to 'Kenner und Liebhaber'. Since 1750, these two elements, the popular and the personal, have drifted gradually further apart.
Probably the latest examples of Couperin's influence in Germany are to be found in the keyboard work of Graupner, Krebs, Kim-berger, and Marpurg. Graupner has a rather beautiful Sommeil movement; Krebs, a duller composer, has a piece called Harlequinade which is, however, already more Mozartian than Couperinesque in style and feeling. Some pieces of Kirnberger, such as Les Complimen-teurs and Les Carillons, have more of the authentic manner, and his D major chaconne is interesting as a transition between the galanterie of Lully and Couperin, and the new, Mozartian galant convention. But most striking is the Clavierstucke collection of Marpurg, published in Berlin in 1762. Into this volume Marpurg has transcribed Couperin's Le Reveil Matin, and pieces by other clavecinists such as Clerambault, and has added pieces of his own which not only have characteristic titles (La Badine, Les Fifres, etc.), but which are closer to the linear style of Couperin than are most of the Germanic versions of his idiom mentioned in this chapter. The pieces are not, however, much more than pastiche. The Couperin tradition is no longer a living reality; it has been engulfed by the symphony, as was the tradition of Bach.
And so, as the Viennese symphony prospered, Couperin was forgotten, both in Germany and in his own country. The revival of interest in him has more or less coincided with the revival of interest in Bach; and his position in French musical history is comparable with that of Bach in the history ofEuropean music. Just as Bach sums up the evolution of European music down to his time, and suggests potentialities which have only recently been investigated; so Couperin, in his less comprehensive way, has the whole of French 286
Chronology, Influence, and Conclusions
musical history implicit in him, and hints at later developments in Faure, Debussy, and Ravel. The two latter played a considerable part in the re-establishment of Couperin and their attempt, in their later work, to reinstate the French classical tradition in place of their earlier 'nervous' introspection is significant—particularly in view of their preoccupation with the world of Watteau and the Harlequin. But still more important is the comparison with Faure, because Faure's technique, as has been pointed out, has a similar combination of harmonic subdety in the inner parts with solid line drawing between melody and bass. Faure, too, is a guardian of civilization and tradition. His civilization, however, has a less direct relation to a real world than Couperin's; it is an idealization, in an art form, of his response to the French tradition. For this reason, perhaps, his enharmonic fluctuations give to his urbanity a certain precarious-ness. He cannot aspire to that proud serenity and mastery of styliza-tion which was natural to Couperin because he lived in a society which believed in itself, was confident of its values.
Couperin's civilization, as we have previously suggested, was both real and ideal at the same time. It was real in the sense that it existed outside his music in the world in which he lived; it was ideal in the sense that, in his music, he presented the values of his society in a form distilled of all merely topical and local dross. We have no real parallel to this in English music. In some ways the civilized quality of Couperin's music is, in its finest moments, not incomparable with the urbanity of Ben Jonson. That magnificent poem, To the World, A Farewell for a Gentlewoman, Virtuous and Noble, mates courtly elegance with earthy vigour, urbanely balanced movement with tragic passion, in a manner similar to that which we have noticed in Couperin's greatest achievements. The exquisiteness of the courdy lyrical poets, the spirituality of the seventeenth-century devotional poets, and the immediate vitality of the dramatists and the Donne tradition meet in Jonson's work; Couperin, too, shows that urbanity, wit, and courdy grace may exist together with a deeply serious, even religious, attitude to life. And if we feel that in Couperin there is more exquisiteness and less earthy vigour, that should not lead us to underestimate the vigour that is certainly there. Nor is it at all surprising, making allowances for the difference in date and environment, that Couperin should have many temperamental affinities
287
Francois Couperin: Thb Work
withjonson. During the latter part ofJonson's life, English Caroline culture was developing in a manner closely parallel to French culture. Had it not been for the Civil War, it is at least feasible that Dryden or some other successor to Jonson might have been as convincing in his heroic work as he was in his critical and satirical; that we might have produced something closer to Racine than in fact we did. In that case, it is possible that the masque might have developed into the mature opera; and that Purcell, as successor to Jenkins and William Lawes, might have been, not a greater genius, but a composer more aristocratically elegant, more precise, more Couperin-like. By the time England had evolved her Augustan civilization she seemed for the most part to have lost an awareness of tragic issues. Apart from a few passages in Pope, our Augustan age has nothing comparable with the greatest things in Couperin and Racine.
Couperin is not, of course, a composer whose oudook on life is fundamentally religious, even mystical, as is Bach; nor has he Bach's comprehensiveness. In some obvious respects, Alessandro Scarlatti, La Lande, Handel, and Rameau are all classical baroque composers on a grander scale than Couperin. None of them, however, comes as close to Bach as does Couperin in his finest work; none of them has anything as aristocratically noble as La Favorite, as spiritual as the Lecons des Tenebres, as tighdy wrought as L'Apotheose de Corelli or L'lmperiale, as tragic as La Passacaille, as civilized as La Convalescente. No doubt Rameau is the key figure with reference to the future of French musical culture, since his passionately disciplined theatrical art looks forward to the next supremely great figure in the French tradition, Berlioz. Yet Couperin himself is not as remote from Berlioz as one might superficially imagine; and, unlike Rameau, he also looks back, beyond Lully, to the sixteenth century and even the Middle Ages. It is hardly too fanciful to suggest that Couperin is a central link between Lassus, the richest and most multifarious of the sixteenth-century masters, and Berlioz, the man who, despite his much vaunted romanticism, is the greatest aristocratic master of linear draughtsmanship in the nineteenth century.
And then, by way of Faure, Couperin establishes a link with the modern world. Perhaps the nature of this connection is indicated if one remarks, in conclusion, that the relation of the classicist Valery to Racine resembles the relation of Faure's last works to Couperin. 288
Part III
Theory and Practice
De tous les dons naturels le Gout est celui qui se sent le mieux et qui s'explique le moins; il ne seroit pas ce qu'il est, si Ton pouvait le ddfinir; car il juge des objets sur lesquels le jugement n'a plus de prise, et sert, si j'ose parier ainsi, de lunettes ä la raison....
Chaque homme a un Gout particulier----Mais il y a aussi
un Goüt ge"neVal sur lequel tous les gens bien organises s'accordent; et c'est celui-ci seulement auquel on peut donner absolument le nom de Goüt.
hotjsseau's Dictionnaire
Une Musique doit etre naturelle, expressive, harmonieuse.... J'apelle ä la lettre naturel ce qui est compose de tons qui s'offrent naturellement, ce qui n'est point compose dc tons rechercher, extraordinaire!....J apelle Expressif un Air dont les tons conviennent parfaitement aux paroles, et une Sym-
fihonie qui exprime parfaitement ce qu'elle veut exprimer. 'apelle harmonieux, tnilodieux, agriable, ce qui contente, ce qui remplit, ce qui chatouille les oreilles.
bonnet, Histoire de la Musique, 1725
Ce bei Art tout divin par ses douces merveilles, Ne se contente pas de charmer les oreilles, N'y d'aller jusqu'au cceur par ses expressions Emouvoir ä son gre- toutes les passions: II va, passant plus loin, par sa beaute" supreme, Au plus haut de l'esprit charmer la raison meme.
perrauit, Le Siede de Louis le Grand
T
Chapter Twelve
Couperin's Theoretical Work
The theoretical writings of Couperin comprise a small treatise called Regies pour I'Accompagnement; a larger work entitled L'Art de toucher le Clavecin; and miscellaneous passages in the prefaces to his published compositions.
The first of these, the Regies pour 1'Accompagnement, is an early work, probably dating from the last years of the seventeenth century. It is a straightforward account of the methods of treating discord current in Couperin's day, and is interesting mainly because it indicates Couperin's familiarity with the most advanced Italian techniques. We may observe that Couperin here, early in his career, gives theoretical backing to the abstruse dissonances of eleventh and thirteenth, such as we have called attention to in our discussion of his music.
The important treatise on clavecin playing was published in 1717, at the same time as the second book of clavecin pieces, and was reissued shortly afterwards. In the preface to the second book of clavecin works Couperin explains that he had written his didactic book because it was 'absolument indispensible pour executer mcs pieces dans le Gout qui leur convient'. It is not a systematically planned work, but rather a series of random reflections which Couperin puts down as they occur to him. Here it will perhaps be best not to attempt to summarize the contents in the order in which they appear. Instead, we will arrange Couperin's opinions under a series of headings, supplementing what he says in L'Art de toucher le Clavecin with such comments from the Prefaces as seem relevant.
A. Hints on Teaching Methods
Couperin begins by explaining his intention in writing his Methode. Playing the clavecin, he says, is not merely a matter of
291
Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
digital facility; it is a question of learning how to interpret, with sympathy and taste:
La M^thode que je donne icy est unique. . . . J'y traite sur toutes choses (par principes ddmonstrds) du beau Toucher du clavecin. . . . Je ne dois point craindre que les gens eclaires s'y meprennent; je dois seulement exhorter les autres a la docilite. Au moins les dois-je assurer tous, que ces principes sont absolument necessaires pour parvenir a bien cxecuter mes Pieces.
He then goes on to discuss the most suitable age to start learning the instrument:
L'age propre & commencer les Enfans, est de six 1 sept ans; non pas que cela doive exclure les personnes avancte; mais naturellement, pour mower et former des mains a l'exercice du Clavecin, le plus t6t est le mieux.
The player should be seated so that his elbows are approximately level with the keyboard, and his feet resting gendy on the floor. In the case of small children whose legs are too short, it is wise to give their feet some support, so that they may be securely balanced. The body should be seated about nine inches from the keyboard.
Litde movement of the body is called for in playing the clavecin, and the beating of time with the head or feet should be avoided. 'A l'egard des grimaces du visage, on peut s'en corriger soy-mfime en mettant un miroir sur le pupitre de l'epinette.' In general one's posture should be attentive but easy. Couperin remarks that, in the early stages, children should not be allowed to play the clavecin except in the presence of their teacher or some other responsible person, because left to themselves they can 'deranger en un instant ce que j'ai soigneusement pose en trois quarts d'heure'. He also offers the sensible advice that it is profitable for children to leam several pieces by ear and memory before studying notation. Thus they can early acquire some command of musical expression without being troubled by the mechanics of music. A very typical touch occurs in a passage wherein Couperin advocates humility on the part of the teacher:
II serait bon que les parents, ou ceux qui ont l'inspection generate sur les enfans, eussent moins d'impatience, et plus de coniiance en celui qui en-seigne (stirs d'avoir fait un bon choix en sa personne) et que i'habile Maitre, de son cote\ eut moins de condescendance.
He further insists that a spinet or single manual harpsichord is suffi-292
Couperin's Theorbtical Work
cient for children, and that it should always be 'emplume tres faible-ment', so that little muscular force is needed to press down the keys. Only thus can suppleness and independence of the fingers be developed; and these qualities are more important than strength. Douceur de toucher depends on keeping the fingers as close to the keys as possible: 'La souplesse des ncrfs contribue beaucoup plus au bien jouer, que la force'. This point leads to our second heading:
B. Remarks on the Nature and Technique of the Instrument
Les sons du clavecin etant decides, chaeun en particulier, et par consequent ne pouvant Stre curie's ni diminues, il a paru presque insoutenable jusqu'au present qu'on put dormer de Time a cet instrument; cependant, par les recherches dont j'ai appuye; le peu de naturel que le ciel m'a donne, je vais tacher de faire comprendre par quelles raisons j'ai su acquerir le bonheur de toucher les personnes de gout.
D faut surtout se rendre tres delicat au clavier et aroir toujours un instrument bien emplume'. Je comprens cependant qu'il y a des gens a qui cela peut £tre indifF&ent, parce qu'ils jouent egalement mal sur quelque instrument que soit.
These quotations indicate how Couperin regarded the clavecin as an instrument capable of conveying great emotional sensibility; the technique of fingering and ornamentation which he describes later is the means whereby this sensitivity is realized. The French style is essentially a clavecin style, the Italian a violin and sonata style. 'Les personnes m£diocrement habiles' prefer the Italian manner because it is more obvious, less dependent on subdeties of phrasing and ornamentation. But the clavecin 'a ses proprietes, comme le violon a les siennes. Si le clavecin n'enfle point ses sons, si les battements redoubles sur une meme note ne lui conviennent pas estremement, il a d'autres avantages, qui sont la precision, la n&ete, le brillant, et l'etendue'.
With this passage from L'Art de toucher we may correlate two passages from the preface to the first book:
L'usage m'a fait connoitre que les mains vigoureuses et capables d'executer cc qu'il y a de plus rapide et de plus leger ne sont pas toujours celles qui reussissent le mieux dans les pieces tendres et du sentiment; et j'avoueray de bonne foy que j'ayme mieux ce qui me touche que ce qui me surprend;
and
Le clavecin est parfait quant a son erendue et brillant par luy-mcme; mais,
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
comme on ne peut enfler ny duninuer ses sons, je scauray toujours gré i ceux qui, par un art infini soutenu par le gout, pourront arriver a rendre cet instrument susceptible d'expression; c'est á quoy mes ancétres se sont appliquées, indépendamment de la belle composition de leurs pieces; j'ay tiché de perfectionner leurs découvertes; leurs ouvrages sont encore du goüt de ceux qui Font exquis.
Couperin concludes this part of his treatise with some advice which we have seen to be admirably demonstrated in his own practice:
Pour conclure sur le toucher du clavecin en general, mon sentiment est de ne point s'eloigner du caractěre qui y convient. Les passages, les batteries a portée de la main, les choses entées et syncopes, doivent étre préférées ä Celles qui sont pleines de tenues, ou de notes trop graves. II faut conserver une liaison parfaite dans ce qu'on execute; que tous les agrémens soient bien precis; que ceux qui sont composes de batemens soient faits bien également, et par une gradation imperceptible. Prendre bien garde á ne point älterer le mouvement dans les pieces réglées; et á ne point rester sur les notes dont la valeur soit pince. Enfin former son jeu sur le bon goüt d'aujourd'hui qui est sans comparaison plus pur que l'Ancien.
This last sentence is sociologically interesting, with reference to the values of Couperin's society and eighteenth-century notions of Progress and Perfectabüity. The rest of the quotation provides a transition from Couperin's consideration of the nature and technique of his instrument, to the first of the means whereby the instrument is rendered 'susceptible d'expression .
C. Comments on Tempo and Rhythm
Couperin's comments on rhythm and movement are of great importance, being one of the sources for our knowledge of the rhythmic conventions of the early eighteenth century. He explains that the French style has been underestimated in other countries—he is dunking, mainly, of Italy—because our pieces are not played as they are notated, whereas 'les Italiens éerivent leur musique dans les vrayes valeurs qu'ils l'ont pensée'. Since our pieces have a descriptive intent, they are played freely; we use words, such as tendrement or vivement, to indicate the mood of the piece, and it would be helpful if these words could be translated for the benefit of foreigners. Moreover, we differentiate mesure from mouvement, whereas the Italian sonatas 'ne sont guěres susceptible de cette cadence'. 'Mesure definit la qualité et 1'égalité des temps, et Cadence est proprement 294
Couperin's Theoretical Work
l'esprit ct l'Ame qu'il y faut joindre.' 'La cadence et le Gout peuvent s'y conserver independamment du plus ou du moins de lenteur.' Here the term cadence seems to mean lilt and subtlety of movement; we may compare the definition in Rousseau's Dictionnaire:
Cadence est une quality de la bonne Musique, qui donne a ceux qui l'executent ou qui I'&outent, un sentiment vif de la mesure, ensuite qu ils la marquent et la sentent tomber a propos, sans qu'ils y pensent et comme par instinct. . . . 'Cette chaconne manque de Cadence.'
This use of the term should not be confused with its significance in the air de com, where it means a trill preceded by an appoggiatura, usually occurring in a cadential phrase.
But although the French pieces are free in movement, there is nothing haphazard about them. Even the tendre pieces should not be played too slowly, owing to the short sustaining power of the instrument. Mesure (metre) must always be respected; esprit must be obtained through gotit and cadence. The correct interpretation of these irregularities of movement is one of the most difficult of all the problems involved in early eighteenth-century music.
Dolmetsch's discussion of the conventional alterations of rhythm seems to me the least satisfactory part of his invaluable book, because he does not explain the complicated conditions which regulated the employment of these effects. These conditions are, however, described in detail in E. Borrel's article on 'Les notes inegales dans l'ancienne musique francaise', published in the Revue de Musicologie of November 1931. Borrel's case is based entirely on contemporary documents, so by supplementing Couperin's own very ambiguous pronouncements on the subject with the testimony of the other seventeenth- and eighteenth-century authorities quoted by Borrel, we may hope to obtain some coherent notion of the correct interpretation of Couperin's rhythms.
The tradition of notes inegales goes back, in French music, as far as the early years of the sixteenth century, but the first important and detailed statement on the subject is that of Loulie' in 1696. According to him, in any time, but especially in triple rhythms, there are three possible ways of playing notes of half-beat value. Firsdy the notes may be all played equally. This method is called Detacher, and is used in all passages which proceed by degrez interrompus (i.e. by disjunct
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practicb
motion). In passages moving by conjunct motion, when a detacher effect is intended, it is customary to place dots over the notes; these dots do not indicate staccato, but merely the rather more weighty effect which even playing gives to the notes, in contrast with the habitually flexible treatment.
Secondly, the first note of each pair may be played slightly longer than the second. This effect is known as Lower, and is used in passages which proceed by conjunct motion. Thirdly, in passages in which the first note of a pair has a dot affixed to it, the first note should be very much elongated; this effect is called Pointer or Piquer. The terms pointer, piquer, marteler, passer and tourer later became more or less synonymous; where dots are included in the written score a more exaggerated effect is of course intended. The whole of the passage from Loulie described above is so important that it is perhaps worth quoting in his own words:
Dans quelque Mesure que ce soit, particulierement dans la Mesure a trois terns, les demi-tems s'executent de deux manieres differentes, quoy que marquez de la meme maniere.
(1) On les fait quelquefois egaux.
Cette maniere s apelle detacher les Notes, on s'en sert dans les chant) dont les sons se suivent par degrez interrompus, et dans toute sorte de Musiqtte itranglre oil Von ne pointe jamais, quil tie soit marque'. [My italics.]
(2) On fait quelquesfois les premieres demy terns un peu plus longs. Cette maniere s'apelle Lourer. On s'en sert dans les chants dont les sons se suivent par degrez non interrompus.
(3) II y a une troisieme maniere, ou Ton fait le premier demi-tems beau-coup plus long que le deuxieme mais le premier demi-tems doit avoir un point.
On apelle cette 3 maniere Piquer ou Pointer. In 1702, St-Lambert explains that these inequalities of rhythm are introduced 'parce que cette incgalki lcur donne plus de grSce'. All the authorities insist that the purpose of the rhythmic alterations is to add subdety and nuance, and point out that the correct application of them depends ultimately on le bongofit. St-Lambert goes on,' Quand on doit inegaliser les notes, e'est au gout a determiner si elles doivent Stre peu ou beaucoup inegales; il y a des pieces ou il sied bien de les faire fort inegales, et d'autres ou elles veulent 1'etre moins; le gout juge de cela comme du mouvement'. Later, in 1775, Engramelle remarks that it is left to the performer to decide in what proportions 296
Cotjjehin's Theoretical Work
the long and short notes shall be played: 'II est bien des endroits oil les in^galites des notes varient dans le meme air; quelques petits essais feront recontrer le bon et le meilleur ou pour l'egalite ou pour i'inegalite*; Ton verra qu'un peu plus ou un peu moins d'inegalite dans les notes change considerablement le genre d'expression d'un air*. Choquel says that the inequality of rhythm 'Me le chant et le rend plus coulant'. Emy de l'llette suggests that 'inegalites'serve to 'dormer de l'el^gance a l'execution de la musique', adding that they should be used only in the melodic parts ('parties chantantes'), not in Taccompagnement'.
The fundamental rule in the interpretation of unequal notes is stated by Monteclair: 'En quelque mesure que ce soit, les notes dont il faut quatre pour remplir un temps sont toujours inegales, la premiere un peu plus longuc que la seconde'. Duval makes the same point in saying,' On fait inegales toutes les notes de moindre valeur que celles qui sont indiquees par le chiffre inferieur'; except that in 2:4 only semiquavers and demi-semiquavers are played unequally; in 3 :2 only crochets, quavers and subdivisions of quavers; in 3 :4, 6:4, 9:4 and 12:4 only quavers and subdivisions of quavers; in 3:8, 6:8, 9:8 and 12:8 only semiquavers and demi-semiquavers. Some theorists maintain that 'les notes inferieures aux notes inegales sont aussi inegales'; others maintain that when notes of smaller value than the unequal notes, as indicated by the time signature, occur in profusion, they are played unequal, while what would have been the unequal notes become equal. For instance, Corrette says, 'A 3 on fait les croches inegales, mais on les joue quelquefois Igales, quand il y a des doubles croches, ce qu'on peut voir dans la passacaille d'Armide de M. de Lully et dans la chaconne des Indes Galantes de M. Rameau.'
All these devices refer mainly to notes grouped in fours or sixes. When quavers, semiquavers, and sometimes crochets are phrased in twos, with a slur over them and a dot above the second note, a different kind of inequality is implied. In this case, the second note is played slighdy longer than the first; a modern interpretation of this notation would probably be directly contrary to eighteenth-century practice. This effect, which Couperin terms couler, occurs most fre-quendy in passages involving 'drooping' pairs of quavers. A very slight rest is made after the second quaver.
297
Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice We may summarize Bond's conclusions as follows: (i) There are two kinds of notes inegalesmuse in French music of the period. The most common concerns groups of four or six notes, in which the first note of each pair is elongated; the contrary effect is occasionally found in quavers slurred in pairs, (a) The following notes are treated in the unequal manner: In 3 : i time minims. In 3 :2 time 'white' crochets and quavers.
In 2, 3,3:4,6:4,9:4, 12:4 and (p time quavers.
If the sign (p represents two slow beats the quavers are unequal; if it represents four quick beats the quavers are equal and semiquavers unequal.
In 2 : 4, 3 : 8, 4 : 8, 6 : 8, 9 : 8, 12 : 8 and C time semiquavers.
Some authorities say that semiquavers, but not quavers, are played unequally in allemandes; others say that in allemandes all the notes are equal. Couperin seems to favour this second theory, since he often tells the performer to use the pointe effect in an allemande, implying that without this direction it would normally be played equally.
In 3 :16, 4:16, 6:16, 9:16 and 12:16 time demi-semiquavers.
(3) Notes that would normally be played unequally, in accordance with the rules outlined above, are played equally in the following circumstances:
(a) When they are interspersed with notes of shorter value. (As we have seen, however, this exception is not upheld by all theorists, some of whom maintain that in such cases, all the smaller valued notes are unequal.)
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Couperin's Theoretical Work
(b) When the lines move by disjunct motion; (and especially, therefore, in arpeggio figuration).
(c) When the words Notes egales, Detachez, or Martelees are written on the score, or when the tempo is marked Mouve-ment decide' or marque.
(d) When there are dots or short lines above the notes which would otherwise be unequal.
(e) When the notes which would otherwise be unequal are interrupted by numerous rests.
(f) When they involve syncopations.
(g) When they involve repetitions of the same note. (/») When they occur in accompanying parts.
(i) When they occur in the music of other countries. For instance, quavers are played equally in the 3 :4 sarabande of the Italians, whereas they are unequal in the French sarabande.
(J) In very quick tempi, when the even method of playing semiquavers, with a slight stress on the first of each group of four, is the only practicable method.
(k) When there is a slur over a group of four, six, or eight notes.
The last two points are not mentioned by the French writers, but occur in Quantz. It seems clear that the lower effect cannot have been employed in very rapid passages.
(4) In passages in which dotted notes occur, the dot is always elongated, the short note played with a snap. In passages in which a dotted note is followed by a group of very rapid notes, the value of the dot is variable. The quick notes should take exactly as long as is indicated by the number of 'tails' affixed to them, the dot being stretched out, or contracted, in order to regularize the measure. In the following rhythm ? J?3 J* , the demi-semiquavers are played very quickly and brightly, never slurred.
(5) Triplet figures are always played equally.
(6) In recitative in duple or triple time, quavers which would normally be unequal are often sung equally; while in four-time recitative quavers which would normally be equal are often unequal. No rules can be established with reference to recitative, for here the rhythmic inequalities are dependent on '1'expression de la Parole et le gout du Chant'.
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
(7) The proportionate lengths of the long and short notes in unequal groups depend on the character of the music. The correct interpretation can be achieved only through le bon goút, which D'Alembert's Encyclopedic of 1757 defines as 'Le talent de déméler dans les ouvrages de ľart ce qui doit plaire aux ámes scnsibles, et ce qui doit les blesser'.
In view of the complexity of these regulations, it will perhaps be helpful if we analyse one of Couperin's works from the point of view of the notes inegales. Let us take the very representative chaconne Les Folies Francoises. This is in 3 : 4 time, so the norm of 'inégalité' is the quaver. In the first couplet, the quavers in bar fourteen are thus to be played with the first one of each pair slighdy elongated; in bars three and eleven, on the other hand, the quavers are slurred in pairs, so here the second note of the pair is slighdy longer than the first. The irregularities should not be strongly marked, since the character of the movement is quiet and dignified.
In the second couplet, bars seven and eight, the quavers are played equally, because they have a slur over them. In the third couplet, in dotted rhythm, the semiquavers after the dot should be very short and sharp, preceded by a brief rest. The fourth couplet, in 9 : 8, is consistendy in quavers, and thus is played equally throughout. The fifth couplet is in 3 :2, in a pointe rhythm with 'white' quavers. Here again the dots should be very elongated, and the white semiquavers very short; but in this case they should be smooth and suave, not sharp and precise.
In the sixth couplet the quavers in the left hand follow the usual convention, the first of each pair being slighdy longer than the second; but the quaver appóggiaturas in bar fourteen are played with the second note slighdy longer than the first (or possibly equally) while the quavers in the left hand are still played in the irregular fashion. The seventh couplet has the time signature of 1 : 2, divided into four 'white' quavers. Quavers in two time would normally be played unequally; but Couperin counteracts this by writing the word Également on the score. Here, then, there are four regular quavers a bar.
The eighth couplet, called La Coquéterie, has a coquettish medley of time signatures. In the 6 : 8 and 3 : 8 bars, the triplets and the groups of two semiquavers should be equal; in the 2 :4 bars the 300
Couperin's Theoretical Work
scale passages in semiquavers should probably be unequal, unless the movement is taken fast.
The ninth couplet, marked gravement, is in pointe rhythm. The quavers with dots over them, in the left hand, are played evenly, and detached, rather heavily. Again, the dotted quavers are extremely elongated, the semiquavers very short and brisk. The tenth couplet is in 3 : 8, but the semiquavers are played equally because they proceed by disjunct motion, in arpeggio formation. In the eleventh couplet the 'white' quavers (of crochet value) are irregular; in the twelfth and last couplet, in 3 : 4, the semiquavers are equal because the speed is trh uite, the quavers are equal because they have detache dots above them. In L'Ame en peine, the wonderful little piece which follows Les Folies Francoises, the quavers and semiquavers are slightly shortened, except when, as in bar seventeen, they occur in suspensions. A rhythmic interpretation of all Couperin's pieces can be worked out on similar lines. In all difficult cases—and there are many passages in which the interpretation is ambiguous—the performer must rely, as did the eighteenth-century executant, on his own discretion and bongout.
In practice the irregular notes do not occur as frequently as one might expect; for instance in the last ordre of all, the B minor from Book 4, there are almost no notes inegales. In L'Exquise the semiquavers are equal because the piece is an allemande; Les Pavots, in 2 time, has no groups of four quavers, only quavers slurred in pairs; the semiquavers in Les Chinois are marked Viste and therefore move equally, the only unequal notes being a few quavers slurred in pairs and an occasional double-dotted note; while in Saillie the scale-wise semiquavers are probably too rapid to be played unequally.
In this discussion we have mentioned only those conventional alterations of rhythm which involve problems of interpretation. Other alterations of rhythm are purely notational, for instance the combination of triplets with dotted figures, the semiquaver coinciding with the third quaver of the triplet.
C. Comments on Ornamentation
As with rhythm, so with ornamentation; this too, as has already been pointed out with reference to Couperin's music and that of his
3d
Francois Cotjperin: Theory and Practice
predecessors, is an intrinsic part of the subdety of both line and harmony. The most important ornament is undoubtedly the port de voix, or appoggiatura. Couperin's explanations of the port de voix (for he adopts the terminology of the lutenists and the air de cow composers) are very inaccurate:
if a J J J]		(b) 1       |jf  » J	=3=^ /T II =
$ JJ l .i J J j	4=±=\ Pon de voix simple	'r J	1J * i ff r n = Port de voix coulee
li JJ 1			
Effet.
li :> J J J i		
ImjJ	iff                     í i Port de voix double ._„.,„ _   _ „,	
	Effet.	
Here the pure form of the port de voix is the second cited. As Dol-metsch points out, what Couperin calls the port de voix simple is really the port de voix pince (i.e. with a mordent); and in the port de voix double it is not the appoggiatura, but the mordent, which is doubled. Couperin makes the important point that in all the ports de voix the ornamental notes must be struck with the harmony note; and that the length of the ornamental notes must be proportionate to the value of the note to which they are attached. As Dolmetsch remarks, however, he does not tell us what this proportion is. According to C. P. E. Bach, the port de voix takes half the value of the harmony note in duple times, two-thirds in triple times. It is always slurred to, and played slighdy louder than, the note of resolution. The ornamental notes must never anticipate the beat, because then the effect of discord is ruined; on the other hand, harmonic considerations fre-302
Couperin's Theoretical Work
quently lead to modifications in the normal treatment of the appog-giatura. These arc not dealt with by Couperin, but are covered by Dolmetsch, on the evidence of other contemporary authorities. Again, in difficult cases the player must make his own decisions, in accordance with le bongout; he will usually find some special case, cited in Dannrcuther or Dolmetsch, which is relevant to any problem Couperin's work may offer. (See Appendix E, Section II.)
Couperin's treatment of the mordent or pince is more straightforward. These tables from the 1713 book of clavecin pieces, and from the methode of 1717, offer no difficulty, except possibly that the use of a note of full value for the final resolution of the ornament might erroneously suggest that the mordent anticipates the beat:
JD4
P
Pmce'continu
P
Mordents on long notes should be more extended (double) than those on short notes. The pince continu is a shake on the note below the main note. Pinch always end with the note which they decorate.
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
Couperin gives the following table oitremblements, or cadences (not to be confused with the rhythmic device referred to above), in the 1713 preface:
(4)
Tranblemeni appuyf, Tremblement ouvert Tremblement fame a lie1
Trm^mds etre appuye
Tremblement detachc
Effet
i
Tremblement continu
Here again there is some confusion over terminology. The tremblement ouvert and the tremblement fermi seem to differ only in that the former resolves upwards and the latter downwards; and the shake in (</) appears to be as much prepared (appuye) as the shake in example (a). In his Methode, Couperin explains that there are three stages in the shake: the preparation on the note above the given note; the shake itself; and the resolution on to the essential note. Shakes always begin on the tone or semitone above the essential note, and, where they are of any considerable length, should begin slowly and grow gradually quicker. In rapid passages, the shake—or half-shake, as it is sometimes called in such circumstances—has no time to establish its three stages; it differs from the pince double in beginning on the note above the essential note, instead of on the note below it.
Most of the long shakes end with a turn; this Couperin indicates by the following sign: Cfl. He does not devote much attention to the turn itself, giving only these two examples in the Methode: 304
Couperin's Theoretical Work
Double
Double
m
Effet.
Sometimes he places the turn sign after the essential note; in that case, it is played after the principal note has been sounded. Usually it takes half the principal note's value in duple time, a third in triple time.
Couperin gives two examples of the slide:
Tierce coulee, en montant
Tierce coulee, en descendant
Effet
Effet
Here again his notation suggests that the ornament anticipates the beat; but his verbal description is unambiguous. What Couperin calls the Accent is distinct from the accent of Bach, which is an appoggiatura. Couperin's ornament is derived from lute technique, being originally the stopping of an auxiliary note on the lute without actually plucking it. The effect is similar to the use of sympathetic vibrations in modern piano music, and would be more adequately described by Rousseau's term V Aspiration, were it not that Couperin uses the term Aspiration for a completely different ornament. The effect, whatever one calls it, cannot really be translated into terms of the harpsichord; the player approximates to it by playing the auxiliary note, usually a tone above and in dotted rhythm, as faindy and vaguely as possible:
1
Accent
305
Franocis Couperin: Theory and Practice
This is identical with one variety of Bach's Nachschlag.ta
Two examples of batteries, or upward and downward arpeggios, are given in Couperin's 1713 collection:
Arpegement enmomant
Arpegement en descendant
Here too the first note of the arpeggio should come on the beat. These arpeggios are much employed in pieces influenced by lute technique. The dash over a note does not indicate a real staccato, but a more emphatic, detache treatment.
Some very beautiful effects of rubato may be obtained through the use of what Couperin calls the aspiration and the suspension. These terms should not be confused with the aspiration of Rousseau and other authorities previously referred to, nor, of course, with the normal harmonic suspension. Couperin notates them thus:
and describes them in these words: Quant a 1'efFet sensible de Inspiration, il faut detacher la note sur laquelle
28 In many respects Bach's ornamentation seems to derive from that of Couperin. His Trillo is the same as Couperin's tremblement ditachi; his Mordant is Couperin's pinci simple; his Cadence Couperin's double; his Accent steigend Couperin's port de voix; and his Accent und Mordant Couperin's port de voix simple. There is no evidence that Bach was acquainted with Couperin's L'Art de toucher le Clavecin. But of course he knew Couperin's clavecin music, and copied out Les Bergeries in Anna Magdalena's Noten-buch. He acquired a fairly extensive knowledge of French music at Celle, about 1700; it was probably at this time that he copied out Nicolas de Grigny's fine Litre d'Orgue, and two clavecin suites of Dieupart, with their table of ornaments as appendix. He may also have known the keyboard music of Gaspard le Roux, since Pino tells us that pieces by this composer are found in a notebook of Bach's pupil, Krebs. 306
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elk est posee, moins vivement dans les choses tendres et lentes que dans celles qui sont legeres, et rapides.
A 1'egard de le suspension, elle n'est gucres usitee que dans les morceaux tendres et lents. Le silence qui precede la note sur laquelle elle est marquee doit etre regie- par le gout de la personne qui l'execute.
Employed with taste and feeling, by 'personnes susceptibles de sentiment', these ornaments can gready enhance the music's expressiveness. But it is important that the slight catch in the breath of the ornaments should not disrupt the flow of the lines. Once more, their purpose is to impart nuance and sensitivity, widiout harming the architectural proportions. Couperin adds that effects of aspiration and suspension may be effectively combined with the tremblement, though only, one imagines, in rather slow pieces. He also claims to be the first to use these ornaments. He may have been the first to develop them extensively in keyboard music, but similar devices must have been in common use among the lutenists.
As suspensions and aspirations may be combined with tremblements, so most of Couperin's ornaments are compound ones. He seems to have considered it accepted procedure that the port de voix should be rounded off by a mordent; and that the tremblement should be prepared by an appoggiatura. He makes no reference to the acciaccatura, which is less congenial to his idiom than to the more percussive style of Scarlatti. Couperin's most important pronouncement on the general significance of the ornamentation in his music occurs in the preface to his third book of clavecin pieces, when he protests against performers who have not taken the ornaments seriously enough:
Je suis toujours surpris, apres les soins qui je me suis donnes pour marquer les agreements qui conviennent a mes pieces, d'entendre les personnes qui les ont apprises sans s'y assujettir. C'est une negligence qui n'est pas pardon-nable, d autant qu'il n'est point arbitrairc d'y mettre tels agreements qu'on veut. Je declare que mes pieces doivent etre exe'cutees comme je les ai marquees et qu'elles ne feront jamais impression sur les personnes qui ont le gout vrai, tant qu'on n'observera pas a la lettre tout ce que j'ai marqu6, sans augmentation ni diminution.
Here again we have the insistence on the connection between ornamentation and sensibility; and the suggestion that the ultimate judge must always be, in the self-assured phrase of the period, 'le gout vrai'.
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D. Comments on Fingering and Phrasing
In the Methode Couperin gives copious examples of his methods of fingering which, he claims, constitute a new system. They do not, perhaps, seem very new to us, being closer to the methods of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries than to modern technique. But though they concentrate on the second, third, and fourth fingers and share the old music's distrust of the thumb, they anticipate the modern method of playing parallel thirds smoothly and they establish the principle of finger-substitution to secure a legato. Moreover, we must remember, as Dolmetsch has demonstrated, that the fingering and phrasing of the old music were always interdependent. It may be more difficult to play Couperin with his own than with a modern fingering; but the performer who uses Couperin's fingering can be sure that he will be phrasing the music correcdy. Much the same is true of the keyboard work of Bach, whose system of fingering was directly based on Couperin's. For both composers, fingering was not a means of scampering about the keyboard with maximum facility; it was a means of revealing, as fully as possible, the musical sense of a composition. These two, among many possible, examples will make this clear without further comment:
(Ľ Amazone)
The general nature of Couperin's phrasing is indicated in his own copious and accurate marking. Not only slurs, across the beat and with the beat: 308
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With the beat
(b)
Across the beat
but dashes, a more exaggerated effect, both across the beat and with the beat:
(°) (b) accens plaintifs
With ihe beat
Across the beat
and commas:
and a combination of all three:
s
5> ess
etc.
i
are used to make the groupings unmistakable. It is patent from all the examples which Couperin gives that the continuous legato of nineteenth-century music, or even of the Viennese classics, is alien to Couperin's music as it is to Bach's. The life of the phrasing depends on the clear articulation of short clauses phrased, on principles analogous to string bowing, as much across the beat as with it; and
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some of the most subtle effects arise from the combination of contrasting phrasings in different parts. (See Appendix E.)
What one might not gather from the phrase marks, but is clear from the fingering, is that even unimportant passages of figuration should be phrased according to the same general principles. The fingering of Le Moucheron provides an admirable instance:
while the fingering of the thirds in La Passacaille suggests that they should be phrased in pairs, across the beat:
4   5  4    5 *
etc.
2   3   2   3 2
2   3   2   3 2
(La Passacaille)
It is for the light which it throws on such minute points of phrasing that Couperin's fingering should be studied by all conscientious performers of his keyboard music today.
The comma, which Couperin introduces into his later work, can perhaps best be regarded not as an authentic phrase mark, but as a rhythmic device analogous to the aspiration and suspension; Couperin's comment on it is as follows:
On trouvera un signe nouveau dont voicy la figure[,]. C'est pour marquer la terminaison des chants ou de nos Pieces harmoniques, et pour faire com-prendre qu'il faut un peu separer la fin d'un chant avant de passer ä celui qui le suit, cela est presque imperceptible en general, quoy qu'on n'observant pas ce petit silence, les personnes de goüt sentent qu'il manque quelque chose ä {'execution, en un mot, c'est la difFerence de ceux qui lisent de suite, avec ceux qui s'arrStent aux points et aux virgules; ces silences se doivent faire sentir sans alterer la mesure.
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E. Comments on Continuo Playing
Coupcrin advocates that one should not take up continuo playing until one has become reasonably proficient as a solo performer. The reasons he gives are both intellectual and physical. On the one side, the expressive realization and performance of the bass line calls for a high degree of skill and taste; on the other side, the right hand's playing of regular sequences of chords, as opposed to the melodic style of solo clavecin music, might have a stiffening effect on inexperienced fingers, 'lamain droiten'&ant occupee qu'a faire des accords'. This remark would seem to indicate that Couperin, in his realization of the continuo parts, followed a widespread convention, playing the bass line as written, in a very cantabile style, with the left hand, and filling in the chords with the right. Such a treatment would be consistent with the melodic-harmonic compromise we have frequently noted in his music, and with his tendency to base his composition on a dialogue between soprano and bass.
There are a considerable number of contemporary treatises which provide evidence as to the interpretation of the figured bass in French baroque music. The two most important are perhaps the Traite de I'accompagnement of St-Lambert published in 1707 and that of Boyvin published in 1715. The following comments are based largely on these two works.
Originally, when the harmony was comparatively simple, the basses were unfigured and the chords employed did not extend beyond diatonic triads on the bass note and, in certain circumstances, first inversions. Figures became necessary as harmony grew more complicated. In Couperin's day all the diatonic concords, chords of the seventh and ninth, and various dissonant suspensions were indicated by the figures. The sharp sign denoted a major or augmented interval, the flat denoted a minor or diminished interval, and the natural sign was used for a major interval that could otherwise be minor, or to indicate the return of an interval to its initial form. Used without a figure the sharp sign meant the major third or triad, the flat sign the minor.
Normally one chord is played on the continuo for each note of the bass, but where the bass line moves by conjunct degrees, or when the bass is rapid, one chord on the clavecin may serve for two or more
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notes on the bass line as played by the viol. These exceptions to the rule are described in detail by St-Lambert, thus:
(1) Quand les notes de Basse sont par degrez successifs on n'est pas oblige" de les accompagner toutes; on peut n'accompagner que de deux notes Tune alternativement.
(2) Quand les notes marchent par degrez interrompus, il faut aussi les accompagner toutes, excepts lorsqu'un meme accord peut servir h plusieurs notes. (My italics.)
(3) Quand la mesure est a trois temps et que Fair se joue vite, on peut se contenter d'accompagner seulement la premiere note de chaque mesure; pourvu que les notes marchent par degrez successifs.
(4) Quand la mesure est si pressee que 1'Accompagnateur n'a pas la com-modite de jouer toutes les notes, il peut se contenter de jouer et d'accom-pagner seulement la premiere note de chaque mesure, laissant au basses de Viole ou de Violon a jouer toutes les notes.
On the other hand, 'quand les basses sont peu chargees de notes... il peut y ajouter d'autres notes pour figurer d'avantage, pourvu qu'il connoisse que cela ne fera point de tort a l'Air. . . . Car l'Accom-pagnement est fait pour seconder la voix et non pas pour retouffer et la defigurer par un mauvais carillon. . . . Quiconque joue en Concert doit jouer pour l'honneur et la perfection du Concert et non pas pour son honneur particulier'. Long-held pedal notes especially provide opportunities for the player to decorate the bass with chords not indicated in the figures, though of course he must take care not to ruin the harmony.
The usual convention in France was for the left hand to play the bass line alone while the right hand filled out the chords in three or sometimes four parts:
La methode la plus ordinaire et la plus commode est de faire tous les accompagnements de la main droite. Elle fait communement trois parties, quelquefois aussi jusqu'a quatre, parce qu'on double quelque consonance, ou parfois aussi la seconde, suivant que la main se trouve disposee. Ainsi la main gauche ne joue simplement que la Basse, sinon qu'elle fait 1'Octave quand la main droite tient un accord parfait. (Boyvin.)
On joue la Basse de la main gauche, et a chaque note de Basse que Ton touche, on en ajoute trois autres de la main droite, faisant ainsi un accord sur chaque note. (St-Lambert.)
If the voice to be accompanied is very slight, or if the texture of the music is thin, the notes of the right hand chord may be reduced to two. On the other hand, in powerful passages, for instance in choral 312
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or symphonic music, the left hand may double the right with three or four part chords also, subject to certain restrictions:
La main gauche peut aussi doubler les Sixtes et les Tierces mineures qui se trouvent sur les diezes, sur les Mi, les Si en montant, et autres, ce qui fait beaucoup d'effet dans un grand Concert. (Boyvin.)
On peut doubler de la main gauche quelqu'une des Parties que fait la main droite; on peut mcme doubler toutes, si les voix sont tres-fortes. (St-Lambert.)
Dissonances should not be doubled, however, except the second.
Dissonance was encouraged in the continuo part, since 'une musique sans dissonance est une soupe sans sei, un ragout sans epices, une compagnie sans femmes'. The dissonances of the continuo were treated, moreover, with surprising freedom:
Quoyque l'usage ordinäre demande que la Dissonance soit precede d'une Consonance, on ne laisse pas de se dispenser quelquefois de cette Regle, et on en fait qui ne sont pas precedees; cela se connoit par le bon usage et le bon gout. (Boyvin.)
Eugene Borrel has demonstrated that it was customary to introduce dissonances into the continuo part even when they were not indicated by the figures. St-Lambert remarks
on peut en jouer quelquefois une quatrieme [note] dans les accords presents par les Regies ordinaires, soit pour adoucir la durete" d'une dissonance ou au contraire pour la rendre plus piquante.
and according to this principle some remarkable effects were obtained. Not only were sevenths and ninths added where appropriate, but the texture was often surprisingly enriched with added seconds, sixths and sevenths. These were not necessarily resolved in the normal way, though they were dissolved into the flow of the chords by ties and retardations.
As a general principle it was considered advisable to preserve continuity between the chords by tying notes common to two successive harmonies:
Quand on passe d'un accord a un autre, on doit examiner si quelques-unes des notes de l'accord dont on sort ne pourront point servir ä l'accord oü Ton entre; et quand cela se peut il ne faut pas changer ces notes. (St-Lambert.)
La main droite doit toujours prendre ses accords au lieu le plus proche oü ils se trouvent, et ne les aller jamais chercher loin d'elle. (St-Lambert.)
Normally the two hands should not move far apart, and should play in the middle of the keyboard, except for some special effect of
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sonority when they may move together to the top or bottom register:
La Partie supérieure de raccompagnement ne doit jamais montér plus haut que le Mi de la derniěre Octave du Clavier, ou tout au plus jusqu'au Fa, cn passant, excepté que la Basse devient Haut Contre; car alors on monte tout fort haut. (St-Lambert.)
An excellent example of this exception is provided by the Adoles-centulus sum of Couperin's Quatre Versets d'un Motet.
So long as a full and satisfactory harmony was obtained, the theorists did not severely enforce, in continuo playing, the usual rules governing consecutives. As a general principle of course 'les mains doivent toujours faire mouvement contraire'; but
Quoique deux Octaves et deux Quintes de suite par mouvement semblable soient ce qu'il y a de plus rigoureusement deffendu en Musique, on n'en fait pas grands scrupules dans 1 accompagnement,
especially 'quand on accompagne dans un grand chceur de Musique oil le bruit des autres Instruments couvre tellement le Clavecin'. The progression from the diminished to the perfect fifth was even regarded as admirable.
The accepted ornaments, especially trills and the Chute, were frequendy employed in continuo parts, often adding their share to the dissonance:
On peut soit sur l'orgue, soit sur le Clavecin, faire de temps en temps quelques tremblemens, ou quelqu'autre agrément, soit dans la Basse ou dans les Parties, selon qu'on juge que les passages le demandent. On fait toujours un tremblement sur la note qui porte un accord double quand cette note est d'une valeur un peu considerable. On en fait un sur la penultiěme d'une Cadence Parfaite. (St-Lambert.)
In accompanying recitative, and sometimes in instrumental passages in a relatively free movement and at moderate pace, the chords should be split or arpeggiated at varying speeds and with varying degrees of violence, according to the nature of the passions the music is expressing. But
Les harpégemens ne sont convenables que dans le Récitatif, ou il n'y a proprement point de mesure: car dans les Airs de mouvement il faut frapper les accords tout ä la fois avec la Basse: Excepté que quand toutes les notes de la Basse sont Noires, et que la mesure est á 3 tems, on séparé les notes de chaque accord de telle maniére qu'on en reserve toujours une pour la fairc 314
Couperin's Theoretical Work
parler entre 2 terns. Cela forme une espece de battement qui sied tout a fait bien.
And
Sur l'orgue on ne rebat point les accords et Ton n'use guere d'harpege-mens: on lie au contraire beaucoup les sons en coulant les mains adroite-ment. On double rarement les Parties. (St-Lambert.)
The general conclusion one must come to is that the contemporary realization of the continuo was closer than one might have imagined to the interpretation which a sensitive musician of today would be likely to give, if left to his own devices. This is especially the case in the matter of the added seconds, sixths, and so on.
This free homophonic realization of the continuo should be regarded as the norm in Couperin's work. But there is evidence that Bach played continuo parts in a highly polyphonic style, and there is even a tradition that Handel's realizations involved counterpoint. St-Lambert's treatise suggests that the French were not averse to contrapuntal realizations in certain circumstances:
Quand on accompagne une voix seule qui chante quelqu'Air de Mouvement, dans lequel il y a plusieurs imitations de chants, tels que sont les Airs Italiens, on peut imiter sur son clavecin le Sujet et les Fugues de l'air, faisant entrer les Parties Tune apres l'autre. Mais cela demande une science consom-mee et il faut etre du premier ordre pour y reussir.
Since Couperin, though not a polyphonist of Bach's kind, is in some ways the most Bach-like of late baroque composers, some such contrapuntal passages would seem to be appropriate to his continuo parts, on certain occasions, in his more linear compositions; the last page of the ime Lecon des Tenebres is an obvious example. Such passages should be regarded, however, as exceptional, and the texture should never be allowed to grow crowded. Here as elsewhere the final arbiter is le bon gout: 'Le discernement delicat d'un accom-pagnateur habile pourroit peut-etre lui en permettre encore d'autres dont il n'est pas aise de parler, puisqu'elles ne dependraient que de son bon gout; car on sait que le bon gout determine souvent a des choses dont on ne peut donner d'autre raison que le gout meme'.
All the theorists insist that the difficult task in continuo playing is not to realize the bass according to the rules—in the matter of correctness considerable latitude may be allowed; the difficulty is
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rather to interpret the bass in a manner which is exactly suited to the spirit—gay, fierce, doleful or languishing—of the music. If the player introduces ornaments or dissonances on his own initiative they must be appropriate to the feeling. He must alter his clavecin or organ registration according to the sentiments expressed and according to the nature—the power or the frailty—of the resources which he is accompanying. Always he must remember that he does not play for himself alone but for Thonneur et la perfection du Concert'. Geminiani makes the same point in his treatise on thorough-bass:
A good Accompanyer ought to possess the Faculty of playing all sorts of Basses in different manners, so as to be able, on proper Occasions, to enliven the Composition and delight the Singer and Player. But he is to exercise this Faculty with Judgment, Taste, and Discretion, agreeable to the Stile of the Composition, and the Manner and Intention of the Performer. If the Accompanyer thinks of nothing but satisfying his own Whims and Caprice, he may perhaps be said to play well, but will certainly be said to accompany ill.
Couperin himself regarded sensitive continuo playing as of hardly less importance than solo playing; though amour-propre may make solo playing seem more rewarding!
S'il dtait permis d'opter entre l'accompagnement et les pieces pour porter Tun ou l'autre ä l'accompagnement, je sens que l'amour-propre me ferait preferer les pieces a l'accompagnement. Je conviens que rien n'est plus amüsant pour soi-meme et ne nous lie plus avec les autres que d'etre ton accompagnateur. Mais quelle injustice! L'accompagnement du clavecin dans ces occasions n'est considers comme les fondemens d'un edifice, qui cependant soutiennent tout et dont on ne parle jamais.
F. Comments on Aims and Intentions
A famous passage from L'Art de toucher le Clavecin merits some discussion here:
J'ai toujours eu un objet, en composant ces pieces; des occasions dirf6rentes me l'ont fourni: ainsi les titres respondent aux idees que j'ai eues. On me dispensera d'en rendre compte. Cependant, comme, parmi ces titres, il y en a qui semblent me flatter, il est bon d'avertir que les pieces qui les portent sont des espaces de portraits qu'on a trouves quelquefois assez rassemblants sous mes doigts, et que la plupart de ces titres avantageux sont plutot donnes aux aimables originaux que j'ai voulu representer qu'aux copies que j'en ai tirees.
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The pieces with 'titres avantageux' are, of course, those called La Majestueuse, L'Auguste, etc., and possibly those called La Belle this or the other.
It has been found surprising that so classical and' objective' a composer as Couperin should thus confess to an expressive intention; and it has sometimes been remarked that his 'portraits', as such, are not very successful, since they mostly sound alike. This type of remark is not normally meant as a pejorative reflection on Couperin's music; but it does perhaps suggest an inability to comprehend what Couperin, and French classical civilization, have to offer. Couperin's stylization is, as we have seen, the reflection of the world in which he lived and worked; he could not, and would not have wished to, modify it. But, as we have also seen, the essence of that civilization was that it permitted great subtlety and variety of emotional experience within its stylization; and the variety—psychological as well as musical—is there in Couperin's portraits when one has learned to listen to them. The point is not one of much practical importance, since one cannot estimate Couperin's psychological acumen, as revealed in his portraits, without personal acquaintance with the people whom he is portraying. It is probable, however, that the appropriateness of the portrait was clear enough to Couperin's contemporaries. In any case, we must remember the words of Rousseau:
L'art du musicien ne consiste point i peindre imme'diatement les objets, mais a mettre l'Sme dans une disposition semblable a celle ou la mettrait leur presence.
And the idea of the musical portrait links up with the preoccupation of the period with psychology and 'character'.
Far from Couperin's practice being in any way exceptional, all the theorists of the classical age insist on music's expressive purpose. Lecerf de la Vieville even said that 'la science de la musique de I'Eglise, plus que de la profane, n'est autre chose que la facon d'emouvoir vraiment et a propos'; while in the succeeding generation the theory of imitation became one of the basic tenets of the Encyclopaedists:
Toute musique qui ne peint rien n'est que du bruit. (D'Alembert.) La musique qui ne peint rien est insipide. (Marmontel.) Il falloit dormer aux sentiments humaius plus d'expression et plus d'accent par les formes de la musique. (Perrin.)
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L'expression de la pensee, du sentiment, des passions, doit etre le vrai but de la musique. (Rameau.)
So deeply engrained was the pictorial and expressive habit in the minds of musicians that pure instrumental music met with considerable opposition in some quarters, simply on the grounds of its purity.' Toute cette musique purement instrumentale,' says D'Alem-bert, 'sans dessein, sans objet, ne parle ni a l'esprit ni a Tame et m6rite qu'on lui demande avec Fontenelle "Sonate, que me veux-tu?" Il faut avouer qu'en general on ne sent toute l'expression de la musique que lorsqu'elle est liee a des paroles et a des danses.' Though one may think it odd that music such as Couperin's sonatas should ever have been considered sans dessein or sans objet one can see that D'Alembert's objection, however naive, derives from an instinct that was healthy enough—from a belief that music ought to have a direct relation to a social function.
This preference for the opera, for music which was dependent on something outside itself, reached its culmination in the writings of Rousseau. The only eighteenth-century theorists who opposed the imitative view were the Chevalier de Castallux and Gui de Chabanon, who both maintained that music was not imitative but creative; therefore a purely instrumental music might be as significant as operatic music. Though music might not crudely imitate natural phenomena, however, it was in a deeper sense an imitation of human emotion. Both writers stressed the theory of communication.
In England a similar attitude is found in Charles Avison's Essay oj Musical Expression of 1752. He maintained that 'the composer is culpable who, for the sake of a low and trifling imitation, deserts the beauties of Expression':
And, as dissonance and Shocking sounds cannot be called Musical Expression, so neither do I think, can mere imitation of several other things be entitled to this name, which, however, among the generality of mankind, hath often obtained it. Thus the gradual rising or falling of the notes in a long succession, is often used to denote ascent or descent; broken intervals to denote an interrupted motion; a number of quick divisions to describe swiftness or flying; sounds resembling laughter, to describe laughter; with a number of other contrivances of a parallel kind, which it is needless here to mention. Now all these I should chuse rather to style Imitation than Expression; because it seems to me, that their tendency is rather to fix the Hearer's attention on the similitude between the sounds and the things 318
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which they describe, and thereby to excite a reflex act of the understanding, than to affect the Heart and raise the passions of the Soul.
On the other hand Avison follows the Encyclopaedists in believing that 'the finest instrumental music may be considered as an imitation of the vocal'. Only Diderot seems to have had any appreciation of the individual techniques—as opposed to 'affections'—of instruments, and of the importance which was to be attributed to those qualities in the music of the future.
Couperin seems to have been unimpressed by the contemporary insistence on the supremacy of music which is closely related to literature. Even in the field of vocal music his work to Latin words (which as Brijon points out in his Reflexions sur la Musique of 1763 were often unintelligible to the audience) is both more extensive and more interesting than his work to French words; while many of his most psychologically expressive portraits dispense with words altogether. Since Couperin's position as one of the greatest masters of his time seems to have been unquestioned, it would appear that the pronouncements of the theorists on the subject of instrumental music were not taken too seriously.
Not all Couperin's portraits are of persons; some are of scenes and places (Les Moissonneurs, Les Vergers Fleuris). The descriptions are stylized but are, and are meant to be, atmospheric and evocative. While some of the titles are no doubt purely fanciful or wilfully enigmatic, far more have a realistic intent than one might superficially imagine. If they seem artificial it is because the world which Couperin imitates is itself so close to art, for it entailed, to a degree which is seldom found in communities, both emotion and discipline, both complexity and order.
The significance of Expression in baroque music has, I think, sometimes been misunderstood. The nature of Bach's musical symbolism of religious truths as described by Schweitzer and Pirro, and of Couperin's musical symbolism of character and place, is basically similar. In both cases there is no question of our being able to draw, as it were, a graph of the pictorial, descriptive and expressive implications which lurk beneath what may appear to be a piece of absolute instrumental music. The point is simply that certain extra-musical concepts served to release in Bach's and Couperin's mind an appropriate musical response. The analogical habit was hardly a conscious intellectual process for them, however naive the inter-
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pretations of the theorists may have become. Bach embodied the conception of Christ on the Cross in tone as naturally as a painter would express it in visual symbols; similarly with Couperin's musical presentation of the pathos of Harlequin. And there is nothing odd about this; both Bach and Couperin are, in this respect as in many others, the end of a tradition. It is almost possible to say that up to their day the dependence of music on extra-musical elements —and in particular the intimate relation between music and literature—was accepted without question. It is only because we have been brought up in a culture which takes for granted a divorce between music and literature and the other arts that we can find anything at all peculiar in their method. The divorce is a matter of some general aesthetic significance which does not work to our advantage.
All through baroque music the expressive elements really amount to a kind of musical (not literary or pictorial) stylization. Whereas the nineteenth-century composer tended to think of his work as self-expression, the attitude of the baroque composer is not less passionate but more objective. His selfhood is revealed through the expression and description of something outside himself; consider the significance of the Emblematic habit all through the seventeenth century. The Crucifixus of the B minor Mass is one of the most heart-rending pieces of music ever written; but Bach thought of it primarily as Christ's suffering, which happened also to be bis own, and that of the people who listened to it. Similarly, in its smaller way, the pathos of Couperin's Harlequin is primarily Harlequin's suffering, which is also Couperin's, and which corresponds to a deeply rooted melancholy in his society. Both Couperin and Bach invented a musical myth apposite to the myths by the light of which people live. There is no egoism in their music. If Bach composed for 'the glory of God and the instruction of my neighbour' Couperin did much the same, though he would not have put it in quite those terms. He would have said he wrote for the entertainment of les honnetes gens; but this would have implied both that his music was a communal activity, and that it was an act of praise to an Absolute, because he knew what honnetete was.
Descartes, who so neatly summarized the consciousness of the grand siecle, had regarded music primarily as the creation of intellec-320
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tual order. This is why he tended to suggest that simple music was ipso facto 'better' than complicated music; why he preferred homo-phony to polyphony; and why he tried to develop a rationalistic system of harmony which tabulated the emotional effects of chords as rigidly as Lebrun tabulated the pictorial counterparts of different passions. Lully was the realization of Descartes's musical theory, as he was of Boileau's aesthetic, despite the latter's strong disapproval of the opera. But his was a creative, not a text-book, realization; and he showed that the search for order and symmetry entailed a humane attitude to the problems which people have to face in living together. In Couperin's subder style there is the same search for clarity and order, without Lully's (and Descartes's) tendency to simplify the issues. Couperin's clarity is both more hardly won and more richly satisfying. His 'philosophy of music' cannot be separated from the music itself.
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Chapter Thirteen
Couperin's Resources and his use of them
(with Notes on the Modem Performance of his Work)
In this section I propose first to attempt a brief summary of the conditions governing music-making in Couperin's day; and then to offer some more detailed and specific comments on his use of the media which were available to him.
A composer brought up in Couperin's environment would have had no need to complain of a lack of opportunity to express himself. Whatever the direction of his talents, there was plenty of demand for his work. The choices open to him may be grouped as follows:
(1) Opera and ballet.
(2) Musique de Chasse.
(3) Musique des Soupers.
(4) Musique des soirees et des bals.
(5) Chamber music for the concerts du dimanche.
(6) Church music for the Chapelle Royale.
The following orchestras and bands took part in these various activities:
Les Vingt-quatre Violons du Roi.
Les Petits Violons (directed by Lully and used especially for ballet
music and dances). Les Menus Plaisirs du Roi. La Musique de la Reine.
La Musique de la Chambre du Roi (for ballets, balls, fetes and les
Soupers). Les Corps des Violons du Cabinet. La Musique de la Chapelle Royale.
Les Bandes de la Grande et de la Petite Ecurie (for festivities, military reviews, hunting expeditions, open-air fetes, etc.).
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The ballets and even the operas sometimes took place in the open air, in specially constructed settings; the architect Vigarani, for instance, designed a 'pare' for the performance of La Princesse a"Elide in 1664. For these performances many of the different instrumental groups combined together. For the Fetes nautiques which were staged on the Grand Canal as many as a hundred players were often employed; here the violins, viols, lutes, theorbes, guitars and clavecins of the various bands of the Chambre and Chapelle performed with the flutes, fifes, oboes, trumpets, horns and drums of the bands of the Ecuries. La Lande in particular excelled at writing grand music for these festivities.
From 1669, the operas were repeated before the public in Paris, at a theatre established by Perrin with the King's authority. Lully took over the public performance of all opera in 1672, establishing an opera house in the rue de Vaugirard. Later, operas were produced in the Salle des Tuileries.
Most of Couperin's church music was written for performance in the Chapelle Royale. Originally built in 1682, the Chapel was reconstructed in 1710 according to plans of Robert de Cotte and Mansart. In its revised form it was not only an extremely beautiful and harmoniously proportioned religious establishment, but a magnificently equipped concert hall. The four-manual organ was placed above the altar, and was flanked by terraces which accommodated the choristers, orchestra and conductor. The choir normally numbered twenty-four and the orchestra nineteen; but on festive occasions there were sometimes ninety or more performers. In Couperin's time the full complement of singers and players comprised ten sopranos, twenty-four altos, twenty tenors, twenty-three baritones, eleven basses, six violins, three continuo instruments, three bass viols, two flutes, two serpents and three bassoons.
High Mass was celebrated every day. Three motets were included; a lengthy movement lasting from the beginning of the ceremony to the Elevation (about a quarter of an hour); a short piece sung by a few picked voices during the Elevation; and the Domine salvumfac regent for full choir and orchestra as a conclusion. The motets were usually scored for soloists, chorus, strings and organ, with occasionally some obbligato wind instruments. The choral and string writing was commonly in five parts.
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practicb
Two choirs, working in alternation, were maintained; only thus, one presumes, was it possible for the singers to keep pace with the very extensive repertory of new works. It was probably for this reason that four organist-directors of the Chapel were appointed simultaneously, working in rotation for periods of three months each a year. The royal performances of church music were repeated publicly at Notre-Dame de Versailles, St Germain l'Auxerrois, and the big Parisian churches, St Jean en Greve, St Louis des Jesuites, St Paul and St Jacques de la Boucherie.
Public concerts, in the modern sense of the term, were not a conspicuous feature of musical activity in the early part of the seventeenth century. But Louis XIV's Concerts du dimanche were regularly organized professional performances; and they set a fashion which rapidly increased during the latter part of Couperin's life. Mme de Montespan organized music-making at Clagny where, according to Mme de Sevigne, 'il y a concert tous les jours'; Mme de Maintenon put on regular concerts to enliven the King's tristesse.
In 1725 Philidor founded the institution of the Concerts Spirituels at the Salle des Suisses aux Tuileries. These were public concerts of church music, at which Italian as well as French works were frequently played. During the eighteenth century the increasingly powerful rich bourgeoisie emulated the aristocracy by encouraging and financing concerts of chamber and orchestral music. The artistic activities of Crozat (patron of Watteau) and of Le Riche de la Poupliniere, friend and patron of Rameau and later of Stamitz, were no less celebrated than those of the Duchesse du Maine, whose salon preserved the old aristocratic dignity and haughty refinement.
Of Couperin's own works the organ masses were written before he received any official court appointment, as part of his duties at St Gervais. His later motets and elevations were mosdy composed for the Chapelle Royale. His concerted music for instruments, in the form of sonatas, suites, and concerts royaux, was written for the King's concerts du dimanche. The solo harpsichord music was partly intended for these entertainments, pardy for the use of his pupils and, perhaps, for private performance to the King and nobility. It will be observed that Couperin restricted himself to the more intimate forms of music-making current in his day. This, as we have suggested previously, was a matter of temperament, and 324
Couperin's Resources and His Use of Them
does not imply any restriction on the range and nobility of his art.
After this brief survey of the various fields in which Couperin might have worked, we will now examine his treatment of the media in which he chose to express himself.
A. Organ Music
Couperin's organ at St Gervais is one of the most magnificent of all baroque instruments. It was mostly built in the early part of the seventeenth century, probably by Pierre Pescheur and Pierre Thierry; additions and improvements throughout the century were mainly the work of later members of the Thierry family, and important modifications were made in 1768 by the great organ builder F. H. Clicquot. This, however, was after Couperin's day; the instrument he used must have been substantially the same as that played by his uncle Louis.
During the nineteenth century, the dust of the years and various acts of God took their toll, and the organ was repeatedly threatened with complete destruction and 'restoration'. The threats came to nothing, however, and the organ fell into a state of slow decay. It suffered severely from bombardment in the 1914 war, but what appeared to be tragedy turned out to be the organ's salvation. Something, after the bombardment, had to be done; the plight of the organ could no longer be quiedy ignored. Inspection proved that the damage was not as fundamental as had been feared; and a commission, consisting of Charles Widor, Felix Raugel, Maurice Emmanuel, A. de Vallombrose, Joseph Bonnet and Paul Brunold, was appointed to decide how the organ might best be reconstructed. Between 1921 and 1923, the reconstruction was carried out with an integrity and sympathy which would certainly have been lacking, had reconstruction been attempted in the palmy days of the nineteenth century. After the reconstruction the instrument was still, in essentials, Couperin's instrument. Since Couperin left detailed indications of registration and we could still play the music on the organ to which the registration refers, we had here invaluable evidence as to colour and balance in Couperin's work. Unfortunately, during the second World War the organ once more fell into decay.
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The specification of the organ is given in detail in Brunold's book on the subject. Since this book is not generally accessible, we may quote the specification here, because it may be of help to modern organists who wish to play Couperin's masses in particular, and baroque organ music in general. The terms are translated into their English equivalent, where there is no possible ambiguity.
ist Manual: Choir, the pipes enclosed in a' petit buffet', a miniature replica of the great organ, placed behind the organists' back. (See Plate VIII.) 51 notes, from C to A.
Diapason 8. The basses in wood. 15 pipes. 18th c.
Flute 8.16 in wood, 8 in metal. Restored 1612.
Principal 4. 14 pipes, Alexandre Thierry, 1676, and 18th c.
Doublette 2. Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Nazard 2f. Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Tierce if. Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Pleinjeu, 5 ranks. Restored, 1843.
Trumpet 8. F. H. Clicquot, 1768.
Clairon 4. F. H. Clicquot, 1768.
Cromhorne 8. F. H. Clicquot, 1768.
Basson-Clarinette. F. H. Clicquot, 1768; restored, 1812.
2nd Manual: Great Organ, 51 notes. Diapason 16. Pescheur or Thierry, restored by Clicquot and Dallery.
Diapason 8. Pescheur or Thierry.
Bourdon 16. Wood and lead. Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Bourdon 8. Wood and lead. Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Flute 8. Pescheur, 1628.
Principal 4. Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Doublette 2. Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Nazard 2f. Pierre Pescheur, 1628.
Quarte de Nazard. Pierre Pescheur, 1628.
Tierce if. Pierre Pescheur, 1628.
Pleinjeu, 6 ranks. Restored, 1843.
Grand Cornet, 5 ranks. Pierre Thierry, 1649.
ist Trumpet 8. Pierre Thierry, 1649.
326
Couperin's Resources and His Usb of Them 2nd Trumpet 8. Dallery, 1812.
Clairon 4. Pierre Pescheur, 1628; restored, Clicquot, 1768. Voix Humaine. Pierre Pescheur, 1628.
ltd Manual: Bombard, 51 notes. Bombard 16. Clicquot, 1768.
4th Manual: Swell. 32 notes, G to A. Oboe 8. Clicquot, 1768. Cornet, 5 ranks. Alexandre Thierry, 1676.
$th Manual: Echo. 27 notes, C to A. Flute 8. Built from the ancient Cornet d'echo, Pierre Thierry, 1659.
Trumpet 8. Francois Thierry, 1714 (originally placed in the Choir).
Pedal: 28 notes, A to C. Flute 16. Pierre Thierry, 1649; Alexandre Thierry, 1676. Flute 8. The painted pipes from the organ of St Catherine's,
the rest by Pierre Thierry, 1649. Flute 4. Pierre Thierry, 1649. Bombard 16. Clicquot, 1768.
Trumpet 8. Francois Thierry, 1714; rebuilt by Clicquot, 1768. Clairon 4. Francois Thierry, 1714; rebuilt by Clicquot, 1768.
For the benefit of those not versed in organ teclinicalities, we may add that the Cromhorne, like the German Krumhorn, is a rather nasal clarinet, the clairon a trumpet, and the bourdon a stopped diapason. The Plein Jeu is a mixture without thirds or fundamental; the cornet is also a mixture playing a chord without the fundamental. The Nazard, Quinte, and Tierce are mutations, playing the twelfth, fifteenth, and seventeenth respectively. A few stops seem to have disappeared; we know, for instance, that there was a jeu de viole in Louis Couperin's time. The first three manuals can be coupled. The Bombard is always coupled with the Great.
Both in the range of its keyboards and the number of its stops the St Gervais organ is, by contemporary standards, a very large one. It
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
is not, however, for its size that it is remarkable, but for the purity and subdety of its tone.28 As with all baroque organs, the purity depends on the extremely low wind pressure; (if volume is wanted, the purity must be sacrificed); the subtlety depends on the high proportion of mixtures and mutations. The round, sweet tone of the Cromhorne and Basson-Hautbois of the Choir, the lucent glow of the Echo flute and trumpet, have a purity which seems made for Couperin's music, as his music was made for them; but the harmonics of the mixtures and mutations add a cleanly metallic edge to the tone, giving the lines a glinting animation. The doubling of the line by the harmonics two octaves or a twelfth up sometimes creates an extraordinary sound, as of rustling tin-foil. Most remarkable of all is the use of the tierce. Here the major third is added, transposed up two octaves; the effect is especially piquant in minor tonalities owing to the persistent clash of the minor thirds of the notated music, with the major thirds of the distant harmonics. The minor section of the Fourth Couplet of the Gloria of the Messe Solemnelle may be examined from this point of view; in the major section, the added seventeenth and octaves produce a much richer effect than the notation suggests, without in any way harming the clarity of texture. This last point is important, because mixtures and mutations are used, of course, on modern as well as on baroque organs. But whereas on the baroque organ the mixtures and mutations give edge and point to the tone, on the modern organ they merely increase the natural tone's crudity and confusion.
It need hardly be said that the turgidity of the modern organ is quite inappropriate to Couperin's music. The big Offertory of the first Mass can stand a considerable volume, so long as the edges are not blurred. For the Messe des Convents a delicate, fluting sonority is
28 Dr. Burney gives the following description of the St Genrais organ as reconstructed by Clicquot in 1768, after visiting the church in the course of his travels. The M. Couperin referred to here is Armand-Louis, nephew of Francois le Grand:
' The organ of St Gervais, which seems to be a very good one, is almost new; it was made by the same builder, M. Clicquot, as that of St Roche. The pedals have three octaves in compass; the tone of the loud organ is rich, full, and pleasing, when the movement is slow; but in quick passages, such is the reverberation in these large buildings, every thing is indistinct and confused. Great latitude is allowed to the performer in these interludes; nothing is too light or too grave, all styles are admitted and though M. Couperin has the true organ touch, smooth and connected, yet he often tried, and not unsuccessfully, mere harpsichord passages, sharply articulated, and the notes detached and separated.' 328
Couperin's Resources and His Use of Them
indicated, but mixtures should provide a certain acidity, which prevents the sound from degenerating to the vaguely pastoral.
A word should be added on the loft and casing of the St Gervais organ. The buffet was a creation of the great years of the Roi Soleil. The case of the great organ was substantially rebuilt in the reign of Louis XV, but preserves the nobility and dignity of the classical age. One can see in its discreetly ornamented proportions something of the balanced gravity which one finds in such a piece of Couperin as La Favorite. The two sides of the instrument 'answer' one another as serenely as the soprano and bass parts answer one another in Couperin's wonderful chaconne. The proportions of the organ are as harmoniously resolved as the sounds it produces.
Couperin was organist of St Gervais all his working life. From 1693 he was also one of the organists of the Chapelle Royale. When he took over this post, the great organ at Versailles had not been built. It was not started until 1702, and was not finished until 1736, three years after Couperin's death. Thus during the early years of Couperin's duties at Versailles, the services did not include any dialogues between organist and choir, in the conventional manner of the parish service, as indicated in the structure of the organ masses. The service was mainly choral, and the organ, a small positive placed near the singers, was employed merely to accompany the voices. This is suggested by all the church music which Couperin wrote during this period of his career—up to 1715. In the Lecons des Tenebrcs, for instance, the bass line should preferably be played by a stringed instrument, while the organ quietly fills in the harmonies; clearly it must not be allowed to disturb the balance between solo voices and string bass. In Couperin's vocal church music, the organ is essentially an accompanying instrument. Where solo instrumental parts are needed, they are played by violins, viols, flutes, or oboes, in the manner of the Carissimi or Bach cantatas.
Although incomplete, the new organ was inaugurated at Versailles in 1710. Couperin may have played the instrument at the ceremony, and it seems probable that he must have used it frequently during the remaining years of his court appointment. There is no evidence of this in his music, however. None of his motets and elevations calls for a large instrument; on the contrary, as we have seen, they suggest a positive. Couperin did not favour a grandiose style
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
in church music, or in anything else. Lully and La Lande, who cultivated the massive and imposing in church music, had obtained their effects through the use of a large orchestra. So the early organ masses remain Couperin's only developed compositions for the instrument; and in connection with them, it is the organ of St Gervais, rather than that of the Chapelle Royale, that we must think of.
B. Vocal Church Music
In performing Couperin's vocal church music, the main difficulty is to find singers with the requisite flexibility, and the appropriate timbre—anything approaching an Italian luxuriance is unsuitable. The soprano parts written for Marguerite-Louise Couperin are especially high, and need great purity of tone. A further difficulty is provided by the counter-tenor parts, since Couperin writes with considerable virtuosity through the whole range of the countertenor compass. The parts tends to be too agile, as well as too high, for the normal tenor, while the substitution of a woman's voice upsets the balance of the parts. The problem of the counter-tenor is not, however, peculiar to Couperin's music. It crops up repeatedly in baroque vocal music, and can be satisfactorily solved only by the building up of a new tradition of counter-tenor singing. The true counter-tenor is a natural tenor with an exceptionally high tessitura; neither the male alto nor the bass or baritone voice singing in falsetto can provide an adequate substitute for its limpid yet virile tone. Mr John Hough, in a paper on the counter-tenor given to the Musical Association, points out that Purcell used his counter-tenors against the high trumpets in the orchestra, while he usually associated the altos with flutes. Roughly speaking, the counter-tenor's range is a third higher than the ordinary tenor; Couperin writes long passages of fioriture ranging between D and high B. His counter-tenor parts seem mostly to have been intended for an exceptional singer called Du Four.
The chorus in Couperin's church music does not involve any special difficulties. On the rare occasions when it is used it should be small—not more than two or three singers to a part.
Couperin's recitative and arioso, which become important only in the Lecons des Tenebres, should be sung very flexibly, but without 330
The Organ of St Gervais
The Organ of the Chapelle Royale
Couperin's Resources and His Use of Them
losing the sense of the measure. In this respect, the recitative of motets and cantatas differed from that of the opera 'qui tend a se rapprocher de la parole'. None the less, it is essential that 'la mesure qu'on y remarque ne s'observe pas a la rigueur' (Lacassagne, 1766). Since Couperin's arioso is much more lyrical and cantabile in character than the usual operatic recitative, it may introduce a rich ornamentation. This was deprecated in French operatic recitative on the grounds that it destroyed the speech-like naturalness of the musical line.
The peculiar recitative which occurs before the final chorus of the Motet de Ste Suzanne, accompanied by bass line only, without harmony, should probably be sung more freely than Couperin's habitual, fully accompanied arioso. 'Le servant pour les recitatifs, son mouvement est arbitraire et ce sont les paroles qui le determinent.' (Choquel.) The conventional account of operatic recitative is probably applicable to this case: 'Les accompagnateurs scavants ne suivent point de mesure dans le recitatif; il faut que l'oreille s'attache a la voix pour la suivre et fournir i'harmonie au chant qu'elle debite tantot legerement tantot lentement, de sorte que les croches devien-nent quelquefois blanches et quelquefois les blanches deviennent croches par la celerite, selon l'entouziasme et l'expression plus ou moins outree des personnes qui chantent.' Here the rules concerning les notes inegales do not apply, the time values being determined by the words.
The beautiful French H.M.V. records of the third Lecon des Tenebres employ soprano voices for the vocalises, two tenors for the arioso, and trumpet, harpsichord and string continuo in addition to the organ. The result is impressive, and should not be quibbled over, for Couperin, like Bach and all late baroque composers, was not fastidious about the medium in which his works were performed. None the less, the original medium, in which both vocalises and ariosos are ;    sung by two soprano soloists, while the continuo is played on organ '    and string bass, is perhaps more satisfactory, and preserves the purity [    of line and sonority which should characterize all Couperin's work. I    The composer's own words suggest that the string bass is desirable \    but not essential: 'Si Ton peut joindre une basse de Viole ou de I    Violon a l'accompagnement de l'Orgue ou du clavessin, cela fera I    bien.' This passage also reveals that the continuo part, even in
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
church music, may be played on the harpsichord instead of on the organ.
In those of Couperin's motets and elevations which have independent obbligato parts, the instruments used should vary according to the character of the music. Couperin often specifies viols, oboes, or flutes. Where no instrument is mentioned, violins should normally be used, on the analogy of the Carissimi cantata. The conductor, however, should use his own discretion, paying deference to the contemporary association of specific instruments with specific passions. For instance, obbligato flutes would clearly sound well in some movements of the Ste Suzanne motet, and might alternate with the violins, both instruments playing together in the most brilliant movements.
Usually, a soloist is sufficient to play each obbligato part; but they may be doubled where the acoustic conditions of the church or concert hall seem to require it.
C. Violin Sonatas and Suites
These do not offer any serious problems to modern performers in respect of the resources employed. Two violins, harpsichord, and string bass is the ideal combination. La Sultane alone calls for an additional independent cello or gamba. With harpsichord, the three string parts form a perfect balance. If a piano has to be used, the medium is bound to be rather heavily weighted in the bass, but even in these circumstances it is inadvisable to omit the cello. It is important that the listener should be aware of the string bass line as the foundation of the soloists' polyphony; the completely different tone colour of the piano cannot be an adequate substitute. The da chiesa sonatas maybe performed with a discreet organ continuo, instead of harpsichord or piano. Again the string bass should on no account be omitted.
Close attention should be paid to the phrasing of the solo parts, remembering that according to contemporary practice all rhythmically strong notes should be taken on the down bow, whatever their position in the measure. The articulation should allow plenty of 'air' in the phrasing. (See Appendix E.) Players should remember that to Couperin and his contemporaries vibrato was a special effect, a grace comparable with the tremblement or trill. 332
Couperin's Resources and His Use of Them
Couperin explains that other instruments may be substituted for the violins and the works may even be played on two keyboards:
cela engage a avoir deux exemplaires, au lieu d'un; et deux clavecins aussi, mais, je trouve d'ailleurs qu'il est souvent plus aise de rassembler ces deux instruments, que quatre personnes faisant leur profession de la musique. Deux epinettes a 1'unisson (i un plus grand effet pres) peuvent servir de meme____L'cxecution n'en paroistra pas moins agreable.
The works are certainly effective in this form, and as domestic music-making will afford much enjoyment to twentieth-century players, as they did to Couperin and his family and pupils. But they are conceived—with the possible exception of the theatrical Apotheose de Lully—as string music, and it is in this form that they should be presented for concert performance.
D. Clavecin Music
For his clavecin music, Couperin calls for a full-sized two-manual harpsichord with two sets of strings and pedal couplings. Apart from the Bach of the Goldberg variations, no composer has shown so comprehensive a mastery of harpsichord technique; the variety of his methods of treating the instrument has already been commented on in our discussion of the music. Some pieces, such as La Passacaille or La Lugubre, need tremendous sonorous resources, and can be adequately 'realized' only on a very large instrument. Normally, however, Couperin's pieces do not call for great volume; it is precision and delicacy that are necessary, as Couperin remarks in the typically ironic passage from L'Art de toucher le Clavecin which we have already quoted. ('Il faut surtout se rendre tres delicat en claviers....')
But this certainly does not mean that the instrument ought ever to sound tepid. Even the percussive Harlequin pieces and the fragilely ornamented linear movements need an instrument capable of giving them a varied registration similar to that of the baroque organ. The instrument need not be large, but it must have resonance; and it must be capable of distmguishing between effects of line and effects of ornamental filigree. In particular, the pieces with bell and drone devices require an instrument rich in overtones. The relation of Couperin's harpsichord to the grand piano resembles the relation of
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the baroque organ to the modern. An instrument with two sets of strings is essential for the adequate performance of the mains croisees pieces on two keyboards; only on such an instrument can complete equality between the parts be obtained.
Couperin has himself summed up the potentialities of the harpsichord in several passages already quoted in the section on his theoretical work (see page 293). The sumptuous instrument used by Wanda Landowska in her recordings is a hyper-sophistication of the resources available to Couperin. His harpsichord probably had one four-foot and two eight-foot stops, certainly no sixteen-foot; and it is reasonably certain that he would have considered the din of the sixteen-foot stop quite intolerable. None the less I do not sympathize with the purist's disapproval of Mme Landowska's performances, and I would even say that—given the different conditions involved in the fact that she usually plays in a large concert-hall—the effect of her performances is right in principle. Certainly the varied 'orchestral' registration of the fully developed clavecin is essential for all Couperin's representative music. Only the unpretentious little dance pieces—such as occur most prolifically in the first book—are completely successful on the epinette (the French one-manual equivalent of the virginals).
Couperin understood his instrument so well that his pieces do not sound very convincing on the piano, when once one has heard them on a good harpsichord; he 'translates' to the modern instrument even less successfully than Scarlatti. The latter's rhythmic and percussive pieces lose much of their wit and guitar-like piquancy on the piano, but can be made to sound effectively pianistic. Some of Couperin's hazily droning, resonant pieces, such as Les Vergers Fleuris or La Gamier, are next to impossible to bring off on the piano. With the big sonorous movements such as La Passacaille the only course is one which is to be adopted only in extremities— namely, to attempt to make the piano sound as much like a harpsichord as possible. Some instruments lend themselves to this more easily than others. The most successful pieces of Couperin, pianisti-cally speaking, are the various bell movements, which can sound very beautiful. In any case, it is better to play Couperin on the piano than not to play him at all.
Just as some of Couperin's concerted works can alternatively be 334
Couperin's Resources and his Use of Them
played oh the harpsichord, so some of his harpsichord pieces can be played on other instruments. The linear nature of his keyboard writing lends itself well to translation into terms of wind instruments. The crossed hands pieces on two keyboards, and the musettes and other popular dances, sound exquisite on flute, oboe, and bassoon; Couperin adds a note, explaining that 'Elles sont propres a deux flutes, ou Hautbois, ainsy que pour deux Violons, deux Violes, et autres instrumens a l'unisson'. He also suggests that 'Le Rossignol r£ussit sur la flute Traversiere on ne peut pas mieux, quand il est bien joue'. His condition is interesting, for this lovely piece demands the utmost subdety of phrasing and nuance if it is not to sound precieux to an almost finical degree. La Julliet 'se peut jouer sur differens instrumens. Mais encore sur deux clavecins ou Epinettes; scavoir, le sujet avec la basse, sur Tun; et la mcme Basse avec la contre-partie, sur 1'autre. Ainsi des autres pieces qui pouront se trouver en trio'.
E. The Concerts and Suites for Viols
Something has already been said in Part II about the medium of the concerts royaux and the suites for viols. (See page 266.) For modern performance of the concerts, almost any balanced group of instruments can be used. The original compromise between strings and woodwind is still the ideal. But they are effective on strings alone, and may sound very beautiful on groups of woodwind—flutes, oboes, bassoons—thus offering a valuable addition to the scanty repertory for wind instruments. Harpsichord continuo should be included where possible, unless there is any specific indication to the contrary; but it is better to play the suites without continuo if only a piano is available, since the modern instrument dangerously disturbs the balance of tone, and does not dissolve into the strings and woodwind in the self-effacing manner of the plucked-string instrument. The pieces are written so as to make complete harmonic sense, even if only the two outer parts are played.
The modern performance of the suites for viols offers peculiar difBculties. Players of the viol are not plentiful nowadays, and players with sufficient virtuosity to tackle the first viol part of these suites are almost non-existent. There is no objection on aesthetic grounds to playing the works on modern instruments, but unfor-
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Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
tunately there are technical objections, since the music arises so' naturally out of the technique and tuning of the viol that many of' the double and triple stoppings are unplayable on modern instruments. Some of the emotional impact of the work comes from the manner in which the music is written 'through' the technique of the viol. If one modifies the lines slightly to make them performable on modern instruments one sacrifices the feeling of oneness between music and instrument; if one rewrites them 'through' the technique of the modern instruments, one is straying too far from Couperin.
Yet the suites are such magnificent music that one would like to hear them widely performed today. Bouvet's published version for cello and piano is adequate but inevitably out of character. A more satisfactory version might be made for viola and cello unaccompanied. The multiple stopping would have to be modified in some places, and the effect might occasionally be rather gauche. None the less I think such a version would give a more authentic impression of the nature and quality of the music than could any arrangement for cello and piano.
In general Couperin, like Bach, is primarily a linear composer, a draughtsman who is interested in tone-colour only as a means of making his linear structure clear. This does not alter the fact that there is a specific and sensuously beautiful tone colour which is, as it were, implicit in his texture. As with Bach, when the tone-colours appropriate to a particular group of lines have been decided on, they should normally be adhered to throughout the movement. Frequent dynamic gradations are unnecessary; sharp, architectural oppositions o£forte and piano may be used, though not to excess. The words fort and doux are the only dynamic indications which Couperin permits himself, and they occur infrequently. Moreover although Couperin's expressive intentions are suggested by the adjectival and adverbial indications of mood and tempo which he gives, these indications do not imply a romantic theory of interpretation. If the music is sensitively phrased, the lines create their own 'expression'. The general nature of Couperin's phrasing has been discussed in the previous chapter.
336
Chapter Fourteen
Editions of Works by Couperin
a. organ masses
Pieces d'Orgue consistantes en deux messes, 1690. (MS. copies with
engraved tide page.) Fiist published, ascribed to Francois Couperin the elder, in the fifth volume of Guilmant's Archives des Maitres de I'orgue, with pre face by André Pirro.
Republished in Lyrebird edition of the works of Couperin le Grand.
b. violin sonatas and suites
LaPurcelle, La Visionnaire,V Astree, La Steinquerque. No contemporary edition under these tides.
Modern reprints published by Senart, edited by Peyrot and Rebufat. This edition is very inaccurate; for instance, appoggiaturas and other dissonant ornamental notes are frequendy omitted, thus emasculating the harmony.
Les Nations; engraved by Couperin, 1726. Includes L'Imperiak, and all of the above sonatas under different tides, with a suite of dance movements added to each sonata. Modern edition published by Durand, edited by Julien Tiersot. This is a scholarly edition with the ornaments transcribed into modern notation. The transcription is sensitively done, though the use of a dotted crochet followed by a quaver for the coule effect perhaps suggests an inappropriate rigidity. The continuo of the sonatas is simply realized, the right hand playing chords in a manner that is probably in accordance with Couperin's practice. (See page 312.) In the continuo part of the suites Tiersot adopts the unconvincing method of doubling the solo parts more or less consistendy.
La Sultáne, La Superbe. No contemporary edition.
y 337
Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice
L'Apotheose de Corelli. Engraved by Couperin, 1724. L'Apotheose de Lulli. Engraved by Couperin, 1725.
Modern edition of the Apotheoses published by Durand, edited by G. Marty. This edition, unlike Peyrot and Rebufat, respects eighteenth-century convention. The continuo parts are somewhat unimaginative.
All these sonatas and suites republished in the Lyrebird edition, with continuo realized by Jean Gallon. These continuo parts make no attempt to emulate contemporary practice; they are almost certainly of greater polyphonic elaboration than Couperin's were. But they are musicianly and perhaps may be said to conform to the spirit, if not the letter, of Couperin's work.
c. secular vocal music
Air serieux, Qu'on on ne me dise plus, published by Ballard in Collection of Airs, 1697. Pastourelle, 1697.
Air Serieux, Les Solitaires, Musete, Brunete, Vaudeville, Les Pelerines,
published in Receuils d'airs serieux et a boire, 1711-12. Air Gracieux, published in La Collection Ch. Bouvet (Demets).
All these and other secular pieces in MS. republished in Lyrebird edition, with bass realized by Jean Gallon. A simple homophonic treatment of the continuo is the only one possible for these songs. Gallon's version is completely satisfactory.
d. vocal church music
Versets de Motets, published by Ballard, 1703, 1704, 1705.
Lecons des Tenebres, engraved by Couperin, 1714. The other church works in MS., mostly Bib. de Versailles, and MS. du Cons, de Paris. The Elevation, O Misterium Ineffabile, republished by Durand.
All the church works published in Lyrebird edition, with continuo realized by Paul Brunold. This continuo part is simple and convincing. It is mosdy homophonic; canonic entries are effectively and legitimately used in certain places—for instance the end of the Jerusalem convertere aria of the second Lecon des Tenebres. Troisieme Lecon de Tenebres, Desoff Choir Series, cd. by P. Boepple.
Music Press Inc., New York, and Oxford U.P., London. 338
Editions of Works by Couperin
e. clavecin music
Four books of clavecin ordres, engraved by Couperin, 1713,1716, 1722, and 1730. This edition is one of the most beautiful examples of early eighteenth-century engraving, exquisitely proportioned and remarkably free from serious errors.
Selections from Couperin's clavecin pieces have appeared in numerous modern editions, the most important of which are
Tresor des pianistes (Farrenc),
Les Clavecinistes (Am&lee Mereaux),
Les Clavecinistes Francais (Diemer).
Early Keyboard Music, Vol. II (Oesterle). Some of these are inaccurate.
The complete series has been republished by Durand, edited by Louis Diemer (also inaccurate), and by Augener, edited by Brahms and Chrysander (1887). This last named is founded on the original edition, with Couperin's five clefs transposed into the modern treble and bass, but with the ornaments and phrase markings preserved intact. Much of the handsome appearance of the original edition survives, and Brahms-Chrysander is an excellent, practical working edition for students and performers, with relatively few, unimportant errors. The Lyrebird volumes correct some, but not all, of these errors.
f. concerts royaux
Engraved by Couperin, 1722. Transcribed for two violins and continuo by G. Marty, published Durand (a not very satisfactory version). Republished in Lyrebird edition with continuo by Jean Gallon. (Solo parts usually written on two staves, as for clavecin; sometimes on three staves, with contre-partie.) Les Goiits Reunis, ou nouveaux concerts. Engraved by Couperin, 1724. Modern edition, transcribed by Paul Dukas, published by Durand. Republished in Lyrebird edition in same manner as the Concerts Royaux, with continuo realized by Jean Gallon. Pieces de Violes. Engraved by Couperin, 1728, transcribed by Charles Bouvet for cello and piano and published by Durand. Republished in Lyrebird edition with continuo by Jean Gallon.
339
Francois Couperin: Theory and Practice g. theoretical works
Regies pour Í'accompagnement, 1696, MS. Published in Lyrebird edition.
L'Art de toucher le Clavecin. Published by Couperin, 1715. Second edition, 1716. Republished in Lyrebird edition.
As a whole, the Lyrebird edition (1933) is a monumental feat of scholarship. Like the Brahms-Chrysander edition of the clavecin pieces, it endeavours to keep as close to Couperin's original text as is consistent with the production of an edition that shall be fully intelligible to modern readers. Thus Couperin's varied clefs are abandoned, but his ornamentation and phrasing are preserved. Certain peculiarities of rhythmic notation are also adhered to; for instance the use of semiquaver triplets where a modern composer would write quaver triplets, and the elastic treatment of the dot in passages involving very rapid notes, for instance (j; ). This convention, described in the last chapter, is sensible, for it is both simple and easily intelligible.
The Lyrebird edition is the work of Paul Brunold, Amédée Gastoué, and André Schaeffiier under the general direction of Maurice Cauchie. It is essentially a library edition. Some of the more important or charming works that have been recorded are published in sheet music form, but even these are a students' rather than a performers' edition since, except in the case of La Sultáne, no parts are as yet provided. It is to be hoped that a practical performing edition of a representative selection of works will follow without delay, for the magnificent Lyrebird set should not remain a museum piece but should be a signal for the active renaissance of Couperin's music. Since this music is so intimately in tune with the outlook and feeling of many young musicians today, there is no need to fear that a scholarly practical edition would not meet with a satisfactory response.
340
Appendix A
THE AUTHORSHIP OF THE ORGAN MASSES
Theevidbncbjro and contra in the case for Couperin le Grand's authorship of the organ masses is given in detail in an appendix to Julien Tiersot's Les Couperins, and in the preface to the Lyrebird edition of the works. On the contemporary engraved tide-pages to the manuscript copies, the masses are described as being by 'Francois Couperin, Sieur de Crouilly, organiste de St Gervais'. The one-time conventional ascription of the works to the first Francois Couperin depended on two assumptions: one, that he was the Couperin who bore the tide of Sieur de Crouilly; the other, that he was organist of St Gervais in 1690, when the masses were prepared for pubheation.
The researches of Pirro, Bouvet, Tessier, and of M. Tiersot himself have proved that the tide of Sieur de Crouilly was one to which none of the Couperins had any legitimate right. There is no evidence at all that the elder Francois ever used it, and the identification of him with the Couperin of the organ masses dates from no earlier than the nineteenth century. There is no direct evidence that the younger Francois used the tide either, though there is a contemporary document referring to 'Marie Guerin, veuve de Charles Couperin, sieur de Crouilly', and it would have been natural enough if Francois had taken over the tide from his father. If it be asked why Francois never used the tide subsequendy, the obvious answer is that a few yean later, probably in 1696, he acquired a legitimate tide from Louis, and so was able to sign himself 'le comte Couperin'. Significandy, the old tide reappears in the name of one of his last clavecin pieces, La Crouilli ou La Couperinette, possibly a portrait of his daughter, or an evocation of his childhood, or both.
As for the second and more important point, there is again no evidence that the elder Francois was ever organist of St Gervais. A passage from the contemporary chronicler Titon du Tillet suggests that the second Francois, young as he was, had the post reserved for him for a while, until he was old enough to succeed to his father:
Francois CoHperin avait des dispositions si grandes qu'en peu de temps il devint excellent organiste et fut mis en possession de l'orgue qu'avait eu son pere.
341
Francois Couperin
That the post was so reserved for the young Fran?ois is put beyond doubt by a document recendy discovered by Paul Brunold, and published in his book on the organ of St Gervais. This proves irrefutably that La Lande was appointed deputy organist, during the interim period, in addition to his two other Parisian churches. The relevant portion of this document is worth quoting:
Convention Messieurs les Marguilliers St Gervais pour l'orgue... lesquels mettant en consideration les longs services que le feu Charles Couperin et auparavant luy, feu son frere, ont rendus en quality d'organistes de ladite Eglise, et desirant conserver a Francois Couperin son fils cette place jusqu'a ce qu'il ait atteint l'age de dix-huit ans et qu'il soit en estat de rendre luy meme son service en ladite annee et ladite qualite Lesquels Sieurs Marguilliers ont choisy et retenu Michel de La Lande organiste demeurt rue Bailleul, Lequel par ces fins et souz les conditions cy aprez, s'est oblige* et s'oblige par ces presentes envers lesdites SSr Marguilliers de jouer de ladite orgue dans tous les cours desdites anndes et jusqu'au dit terns.. . . Ceque ledit La Lande a accepte.
The document goes on to refer to a pension given to Couperin and his mother during the period of La Lande's tenure, and establishes the fact that occupation of the St Gervais organist's house was a legalized privilege of the Couperins at this time, even though La Lande was organist.
There is reasonably definite evidence that Couperin took over the duties of St Gervais in his eighteenth year. This was in 1685. It is certain that Couperin le Grand was organist in 1690, when he applied for a privilege du Roi to publish his organ masses. This document gives Couperin de Crouilly's address as 'rue de Monceau, proche l'Eglise'; furthermore the recently discovered Carpentras manuscript also gives the rue de Monceau address. We have seen that the younger Francois had been living here with his mother ever since his father's death, and we know that the elder Francois can never have been official organist at St Gervais, nor have lived in the traditional home of the St Gervais organists, since the document concerning La Lande's temporary appointment leaves no period of tenure unaccounted for. A small point of interest is that La Lande, in a written tribute to the excellence of the organ masses and their suitability for publication, omits the title of Sieur de Crouilly altogether. Taking it all round, it seems to me that there is no positive evidence whatever to support the attribution of the masses to the elder Francois. It cannot be more than a hypothesis, and a singularly perverse one, for all the known facts point to Francois the Great.
Presumably the hypothesis was made only because the music of the masses seemed too mature to be the work of a young man. But on artistic grounds, as we have seen, the masses provide just the evidence we need to complete our account of Couperin's evolution. One would not expect music of such
342
Appendix A
fine quality to come from the pen of an obscure musician who seems to have written nothing else, and never to have been referred to by his contemporaries as a creative artist.3'' On the other hand, the masses are just the kind of music one would expect to be written by a young composer of genius, corning at the end of a great and long tradition. It is just possible to believe that someone else might have written the chromatic elevation of the Messe Solemnellc, since this technique occasionally leads other composers to create a rather Couperin-like texture and harmony. But it is not possible to believe that any other composer could have written the Qui tollis from the Messe des Convents; and we have observed how Couperin did not discard, but substantially modified, this idiom as he grew older.
Both on factual and on artistic grounds one can thus have no hesitation in regarding the Masses as the first work of Couperin le Grand; and one by no means unworthy of his later accomplishment.
30 Titon du Tillet says of him: 'Le second des trois fieres Couperin s'appeloit Francois; il n'avoit pas les mesmes talens que ses deux fieres de jouer de l'orgue et du Clavecin, mais il avoit celui de montrer les Pieces de clavecin de ses deux fibres avec une nottete et une facility tres grandc. C'etoit un petit homme qui aimoit fort le bon vin.'
343
Appendix B
THE ORGANISTS OF ST GERVAIS
Antoine de Roy, 1545-1546. Simon Bismant, P-I599. Robert du Buisson, 1599-1629. Du Buisson fils, 1629-1655. Louis Couperin, 165 5-1661. Charles Couperin, 1661-1679. Michel de La Lande, 1679-1685. Francis Couperin, 1685-1733.
Nicolas Couperin (son of Francois Couperin the elder), 1733-1748. Armand-Louis Couperin (son of Nicolas Couperin), 1748-1789. Pierre-Louis Couperin (son of Armand-Louis Couperin), 1789. Gervais-Fran^ois Couperin (younger son of Armand-Louis Couperin), 1789-1826.
344
Appendix C
LORD FITZWILLIAM AND THE FRENCH CLAVECIN COMPOSERS
Inwritingthis book I have consulted the copies of the original editions of Couperin's V Artie Toucher le Clavecin and of the first two books of clavecin pieces which are in the library of the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge. Classical French music is fairly well represented in Lord Fitzwilliam's collection: he bought the magnificent contemporary editions of La Lande's motets and of many operas of Lully and Rameau; while of the French clavecin school he acquired, in addition to the Couperin, volumes of Marchand, Dieupart, Du Phly, and the Amsterdam edition of Gaspard le Roux. His library also includes a volume of clavecin pieces by Froberger published during his sojourn in France; and there are manuscript pieces of Du Phly and Nivers in Fitrwilliam's exercise books. Most of the volumes bear Fitzwilliam's signature on the tide-page, together with the date on which he bought them during his continental travels. They were mosdy acquired between 1766 and 1772.
I have already briefly discussed the musical significance of die four Du Phly volumes, which are bound together, in the chapter on Couperin's influence. They have, however, an additional historical interest in that Du Phly appears, from the evidence of an exercise book in the library, to have been Fitzwilliam's composition and harpsichord teacher. The volumes were presented to Fitzwilliam de la part de Vauteur, and on the fly-leaf of the first book are written some comments on fingering in what appears to be Fitzwilliam's hand, signed by Du Phly. It is interesting to compare these remarks with Couperin's comments on fingering in the Art de Toucher le Clavecin. Both writers stress the importance of an easy and natural finger action, of douceur de toucher, and of a good legato; and both advocate the principle of finger substitution. We may note that even in 1755—or later if the inscription postdates publication—Du Phly still shows the traditional distrust of the thumb and fifth finger. I quote the inscription in full:
Du Doigter
La Perfection du Doigter consiste en general dans un mouvement doux, leger et regulier.
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Francois Couperin
Le mouvemcnt des doigts se pend a lcur ratine: c'est a dire i la jointure qui les attache a la main.
11 faut que les doigts soient courbes naturellement, et que chaque doigt ait un mouvement propre et independant des autres doigts. II taut que les doigts tombent sur les touches et non qu'ils les frappent: et de plus qu'ils coulent de l'une a l'autre en se succedant: c'est a dire, qu'il ne faut quitter une touche qu'apres en avoir pris une autre. Ceci regarde particulierement lejeufran9ois.
Pour continuer un roulement, il faut s'accoutumer a passer le pouce par-dessous tel doigt que ce soit, et a passer tel autre doigt par-dessus le pouce. Cette maniere est excellente surtout quand il se rencontre des dieses et des bemols: alors faites en sorte que le pouce se trouve sur la touche qui precede le diese ou le bemol, ou placez-le imme'diatement apres. Par ce moyen vous vous procurerez autant de doigt de suite que vous aurez de notes a faire.
Eviter, autant qu'il se pourra, de toucher du pouce ou du cinquieme doigt une touche blanche, surtout dans les roulemens de vitesse.
Souvent on execute un meme roulement avec les deux mains dont les doigts se succedent cohsecutivement. Dans ces roulemens les mains passent l'une sur l'autre. Mais il faut observer que le son de la premiere touche sur laquelle passe une des mains soit aussi lie au son precedent que s'ils 6taient touches de la meme main.
Dans le genre de musique harmonieux ct h.6, il est bon de s'accoutumer a substituer un doigt a la place d'un autre sans relever la touche. Cette maniere donne des facilites pour 1'execution et prolonge la duree des sons.
Here the passages about legato in le jeu frartfois and about finger substitution in le genre harmonieux et lie" would seem to be derived direcdy or indirecdy from Couperin.
In view of Fitzwilliam's enthusiasm for French clavecin music it seemed worth while investigating whether the French composers, and Couperin in particular, left any imprint on his own amateur efforts at composition. But the earliest examples of his work I was able to find date from 1781; and while he copies out in the back of the volume a piece of Du Phly (La Victoire) and a dance of Rameau, along with pieces by Purcell, Handel and D. Scarlatti, his own style is by that date unambiguously Handelian. The only French element is an occasional hint of the styles of the Lullian overture and march, both of which he could have found in the music of Handel himself. One imagines that any pieces Fitzwilliam may have written in the seventeen sixties would have been more in the harmonic manner of Du Phly than in the linear style of Couperin. The rapid dominance of the Handelian fashion over Fitzwilliam's work suggests how completely the anglicized Handel routed the French—and for that matter the native English—tradition. As Handelian exercises, Fitzwilliam's pieces are competent and agreeable.
346
Appendix D
ON THE TEMPO OF THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY DANCE MOVEMENTS
The contemporary statement of tempi which is most closely relevant to Couperin's work is that of Michel d'Affilard, who based his primitive metronomic system on the earlier work of Sauvcur. The tables which he published in 1705 may be summed up as follows:
C
Marche
Gavotte Rigaudon Bourrée Air gaye Pavane
72
120
90
3	Sarabande en rondeau	r = 88
	Passacaille	1 = 106
	Chaconne	f = 156
	Menuet	\ = 70
3	2 Sarabande	°= 72
	Air tendre	9= 80
	Air grave	°= 48
	Courante	a= 90
3	: 8 Passepied	f'= 84
	Gigue	f'= 116
	Air léger	r= 116
6	4 Sarabande	f = 133
	Marche	f = 150
	Air grave	f = 120
6	8 Canaris	* = 106
	Menuet	f'= 75
	Gigue	f = 100
M. Eugene Borrel has interestingly compared these metronome marks with
347
Francois Coupbrin
those of later theorists. On the whole their statements show a remarkable uniformity:
	affilard	lachapelle	onzbmbry	choquel
	1705		I732	I762
Bourrée f	120	120	i12-120	
Chaconne f	I56	120	I56	
Gavotte \	120	I52	96	126
Gigue f'	ii6-i30	120	112	120
Menuet f	72-7Ó		78	80
Passepied f"	84		100	92
Rigaudon f*	120	152	HO	126
Sarabande f	66-72-84	63	78	
or r				
All the above figures are correlated with Maelzel's metronome.
Quantz, in his Versuch einer Anweisung die Flöte traviere zu spielen of 1752, estimates tempi by the simple method of pulse-beats. His account of the French dance movements is as follows:
Entrée, Loure and Courante (played pompously, the bow being lifted for
each crochet): one pulsation for each crochet. Sarabande: same tempo as above, but played more smoothly. Chaconne: one pulsation for two crochets, played pompously. Passacaille: slighdy quicker than the chaconne.
Musette: one pulsation for each crochet in 3 :4 time, or each quaver in 3:8.
Furie: one pulsation for two crochets. Bourrée and Rigaudon: one pulsation for a bar. Gavotte: slightly slower than rigaudon. Gigue and canaris: one pulsation for every bar.
Menuet (played with rather heavy, but short bowing): one pulsation for
two crochets. Passepied: slighdy quicker than Menuet. Tambourin: slighdy quicker than the Bourrée. Marche (alia breve): two pulsations to a bar.
According to Schering, one of Quanta's pulse-beats equals about 80 on Maelzel's metronome. This gives the following table, which may be compared with those of the French theorists cited above:
Entrée, Loure, Courante, Sarabande	f= 80
Chaconne	f = 160
Passacaille	f = 180
Musette	f= 80
Furie, Bourrée, Rigaudon	f = 160
348
Appendix D
Gavotte Gigue, Canaris Menuet
Passepied, Tambour in Marche
Georg Muffat, in his Observations sur la manihe de jouer Us airs de balets i la francoise selon la mithode de feu Monsieur de Lully, has some iUuminating comments on the general significance of tempo indications in the classical age. According to him the sign C indicates four slowish beats in a bar—a largo or adagio movement, certainly not faster than andante, since if the speed quickens one would beat two in a bar and use a different time signature.
The sign 2 indicates two slowish beats in a bar, or sometimes four quick ones. It is used for a quiet allegro or flowing andante, but does not suggest a precipitate movement. Sometimes, in overtures, it may have a somewhat maestoso character: but an overture in 2 time is faster than one marked (p.
The sign (p indicates two quickish beats in a bar. Muffat implies that it is quicker than 2 time, though not all the theorists agree with him. No hard and fast rule can be decided on; composers seem to use the two signs moUscxirninately in gavottes, bourrees and rigaudons, for instance, and the precise speed of each piece will depend on its character. Muffat's view of the two time signatures seems, however, to be supported by works in which the two signatures occur within the same movement, as they often do in overtures. Here the change from 2 to (p seems to imply a change to a faster tempo.
The sign 3 : 2 indicates 'un mouvement fort lent'. Its character is largo and maestoso rather than adagio.
The sign 3 : 4 covers considerable variety of tempi. It is always less slow than 3 :2, but still 'un peu grave' in sarabandes and airs; 'plus gaye' in rondeaux; and gayer still in courantes, minuets and the fugue sections of overtures. In gigues and canaris it is very quick indeed. This account applies direcdy to Couperin's earlier work; in his later pieces he often employs the 3 :4 sign in a sarabande grave, where Lully would have used 3 :2.
f = 120
f = 160
f = 160
f or  JT = 180
f = 80
349
Appendix E
GEORG MUFFAT ON BOWING, PHRASING, AND ORNAMENTATION IN FRENCH INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC
Georg Muffat's Premieres Observations sur la manihe de jotter les Airs de Balet h la Francoise selon la Methode de feu M. de Lully gives a detailed and revealing account of Lully's techniques of performance. Couperin's Concerts Royaux are direcdy in the Lully tradition; so Muffat's comments on bowing may be taken as relevant to the performance of Couperin's concerted music also.
I
The rules about bowing may be summarized as follows:
1. The first note of each bar, when it falls on the beat, is taken on the down bow, whatever its length. This is the fundamental rule, on which most of the others depend. It is what principally distinguishes the French technique from the Italian, adding a more accentual emphasis to the dance movement.
2. In Terns Itnparfait (binary time), of all the notes that divide the bar into equal parts the odd numbers are taken on the down bow, the even numbers on the up. The rule applies in triple time to notes of lesser value than the lower note of the time signature (i.e. to crochets, quavers and semiquavers in 3 : 2 time). This rule is not modified by the substitution of rests for notes.
3. In Terns Parfait (triple time), when the tempo is slow, the first beat is taken on the down bow, the second on the up and the third on the down. The first beat of the next bar follows on the down bow again, in accordance with rule 1. But at faster tempi the second and third beats of each bar are elided on the up bow, in order to secure 'plus de facility'.
4. In 6 : 8, 9 : 8 and 12: 8 time (or 6:4, 9:4 and 12:4) the bar is divided into two, three or four groups of three notes, each group being treated in accordance with rule 3. If there is a rest on the first beat, the second note of the group is taken on the down bow, the third on the up.
350
Appendix E
5. Several successive notes, each of which lasts a complete bar, are all taken on the down bow. In 6 : 8 or 12 : 8 successive dotted crochets arc taken on alternate down and up bows. Dotted crochets in 9: 8 follow the first part of rule 3.
6. Equal notes syncopated are taken on alternate down and up bows.
7. When notes of unequal value occur in the same bar, groups of notes of the same value are taken on alternate down and up bows. In fast tempi a crochet followed by two quavers may adopt the principle of the second part of rule 3; the crochet is then taken on the down bow, the two quavers being elided on the up. Rests count as notes of the same value.
8. In groups of three notes in dotted (siciliano) rhythm, the short note is taken on the up beat, the two longer notes on the down.
9. Single notes interspersed with rests are taken on alternate down and up bows.
10. A short note before the strong beat is always taken on the up bow. Any note following a syncopated note is elided on the up bow.
To the above rules, there are the following exceptions:
1. In courantes, owing to the animation of the movement, the first note of the second group of three may, 'par maniere de licence', be taken on the up bow, providing that the first beat of the bar is always on the down.
2. In gigues and canaris the speed is often too quick for rules 4, 8 and 10 to be practicable. In these circumstances each note may be taken on alternate down and up bows. The same licence is allowed in bourrees.
3. Two short notes following a long one (for instance two semiquavers after a dotted crochet) are usually slurred on the up bow.
Muffat finally gives an example of a passage bowed according to the French and Italian conventions. This illustrates clearly the dependence of the French rules on the association of the opening beat of each bar with the down bow; and the more crisply defined rhythm achieved by the French method. The French technique is dominated by physical movement, the Italian by lyrical grace. The Lullian principles of bowing should probably be observed in the performance of Couperin's string parts, though not too rigidly. One should remember that Lully's technique was evolved in music intended for the dance; Couperin's chamber music is in dance forms but is not meant to be danced to. Probably a mixture of French and Italian technique is appropriate to Couperin's more lyrical movements.
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Francois Couperin
II
The following is the list of ornaments which MufFat gives:
1. Pinch, simples et doubles. His explanation of these is the same as Couperin's.
2. Tremblements, simples et doubles. His explanation of these is broadly the same as Couperin's.
3. Ports de voix and Preoccupations (anticipatory notes).
In notating the Port de voix MufFat writes the dissonant note as a semiquaver, the resolution as a dotted quaver. Couperin's notation is, as we have seen, ambiguous; but almost all the authorities, from Chambonnieres and d'Anglebert in the seventeenth century to C. P. E. Bach in the eighteenth, give the dissonance and its resolution an equal value. Boyvin is the only authority who unambiguously supports MufFat; so it may be doubted whether MufFat has accurately transcribed Lully's practice in this matter.
4. Couhments—in various subdivisions:
(a) Coulement simple. This is the same as Couperin's couli. In dance music it links two successive notes in conjunct motion, slurring them on the same bow.
(6) Le Tournoyant. A coulement sliding through a wider interval than the coulement simple, all the linking notes being slurred on the same bow.
(c) L''Exclamation. A coulement introduced in the interval of a rising third. The Exclamation accessiue places the ornamental notes, slurred on one bow, before the beat; the Exclamation superlative places them after the beat.
(</) L'Involution. This is the same as Couperin's double or turn.
(e) Le Pitillement. This is the same as the Tournoyant, only in this case the ornamental notes are played 'distinctement, en les faisait craqueter sous un mcme trait d'archelet'.
(J) La Tirade. A coulement is which the linking notes cover a complete octave, and are all bowed separately. Thus this is 'la plus vive' of all the varieties of coulement.
5. Le De'tachement. This is the same as Couperin's DitachS effect.
6. Les Diminutions. The ornamental splitting up of long notes, in accordance with the seventeenth-century principle of division.
352
Appbndix E
Lully uses only one sign, a cross, to indicate the position of an ornament, without explaining which ornament is appropriate. Muffat's account of the circumstances in which the different ornaments are to be introduced is thus important. We may summarize his remarks as follows:
1. Pinch may be introduced on any note that requires stress, even on two consecutive notes, so long as the speed is moderate.
2. Tremblements should rarely be used on the opening note of a piece or phrase, except on the major third, and on sharpened notes.
3. In rising scale passages a port de voix, either simple or with a mordent, may serve as an approach to the strong beat. When the tempo is slow, the port de voix may be combined with the preoccupation and the tremble-ment. Trills (tremblements) should not be used on the strong beat without preparation except on the third, the leading note, and sharpened notes.
4. In descending scale passages tremblements may be more freely introduced, especially on dotted notes.
5. In upward leaps ports de voix and coulements may be introduced, alone or in combination with tremblements. The Tirade should be introduced rarely, for a special effect of vehemence. The Exclamation can effectively be used in rising thirds, 'pour adoucir le jeu\ Tremblements should seldom be approached by a leap, except on the third and sharpened notes.
6. In downward leaps tremblements should never be used except after a fall of a third or a tritone, or a fall on to a sharpened note. Falling intervals may be decorated with the preoccupation, the coulement, the pitilkment, occasionally with the tirade, and most effectively of all with the coulement rounded off by a tremblement on the last note of the descent.
7. In cadences tremblements should be used on the final note only after a fall from the third or the second to the tonic or, combined with the preoccupation or anticipatory note, on the major third (i.e. the ornamental resolution of the fourth).
Muffat gives a series of examples of cadential formulae and of diminutions or divisions, and concludes this part of the treatise with some remarks on the use of the ditachement to give rhythmic animation.
Couperin uses much more precise signs for his ornaments than does Lully; it would seem that his ornamentation is broadly in accord with Lully's principles as described by Muffat. In his violin sonatas and church music he uses the cross, not in the ^discriminate manner of Lully, but to
z
353
Francois Couperin indicate pinch and trembkments; which of the two is intended depends on the context. He writes out in small notes the appoggiaturas (ports de voix) and the various types of coukment and diminution. Though he does not use Muffat's terminology, most of Muffat's ornaments can be found, written out, in Couperin's work. In his later music—the clavecin pieces, the concerts, and the last sonatas—he writes out the appoggiaturas and coukments and uses for the pinch, trembkments and doubles the specific signs which we have described in our account of his theoretical work.
In order to illustrate the correlation between Muffat's rules and Couperin's practice we may perhaps comment on the ornaments in some of the passages from the Lecons des Tenebres which we have quoted previously. For instance, on page 178 the port de voix on the last syllable of the word 'incipit' probably follows Muffat in being short (about a semiquaver in length), for in that form it is most satisfactory harmonically. But the port de voix on the word 'prophetae' probably takes half the value of the main note. The crosses in this quotation all indicate trembkments, beginning with the 'prepared' note above. The wriggle at the end of 'prophetae' is a written-out coukment of the toumoyant type, followed by (in Muffat's terminology) an Involution or turn, also written out. On page 179 both the ports de voix probably have half the value of the main note. On page 180 the cross represents a mordent, which intensifies the phrase. On page 181 the first cross (on the last syllable of' convertere') indicates a pince; the port de voix on the last syllable of'Dominum' takes half the value of the main note; and the cross on 'tuum' represents a trembkment possibly preceded by a preoccupation. On page 185 the first port de voix on 'dolor' is probably long rather than short; the second is almost certainly a quaver. The wriggles on the word 'sicut' are examples of the Exclamation accessive, written out.
Muffat's account does not gready help us to solve the most difficult problem of Couperin's ornamentation. This is the problem of the precise length of the appoggiaturas which, in his engraved scores, he has marked so carefully. In the many passages similar to that quoted on page 211 from Les Longueurs Tendres the appoggiaturas—ports de voix—obviously have half the value of the main note, or perhaps slighdy less than half, the notes being slurred in pairs. On the other hand the ports de voix followed by pinces in the passage quoted on page 220 would seem, from the rest that appears in the third bar, to have the value of one quaver; whereas according to C. P. E. Bach and most of the authorities except Muffat they should have two-thirds of the value of the main note. Similarly on page 221, in the quotation from L'Ame en peine, the appoggiaturas should have the value of a crochet, if one follows Bach; but their dissonance is much more poignant if they are played as quavers, on a principle analogous to Muffat's. On page
354
Appendix E
228 the ports de voix all seem to require half the value of the main note if the power and intensity of the music is to be adequately expressed.
The lack of unanimity among the theorists would seem to suggest that the precise interpretation was as much a matter of taste as of rule. Where there is doubt one must choose the interpretation that sounds right, as we have tried to do in the above examples.
355
Appendix F
NOTES ON THE TITLES OF COUPERIN'S CLAVECIN PIECES
Almost all the titles of Couperin's clavecin pieces, and of those of other composers of the classical age, are in the feminine. Some writers have therefore assumed that the pieces are all addressed to women. But such a tide as La Harpie (Pike dans legout de la harpe), where the word 'harpee' is clearly an invented adjective agreeing with the omitted noun 'Piece', suggests that a similar construction may be implicit in some of the movements where the tides are obviously based on people's names. It is much more probable that Couperin dedicated a piece to the great viol player and composer Forqueray, or to the renowned organist who was also his friend, Gabriel Gamier, than that he dedicated the pieces to their respective wives, however clurming. The implied tide of the first of these pieces would thus be La piece (or la Muse) Forqueray, ou la pike (or la Muse) superbe.
First Book ordre i
L'Auguste, La Majestueuse. These pieces may be portraits of women, but it is more likely that the construction is La Pike (or La Sarabande) Majestueuse, and that they are tributes to Louis.
La Milordine. This tide makes no sense in the feminine, for the French use the feroinine version, 'Milady'. This therefore is La Pike (or Gigue) Milordine, the word Milordine being an invented adjective. It is a playful picture of the young English lord, probably on his Continental travels. Its treatment of the Corellian gigue form is fairly typical of English classical style.
Les Abeilles. This is one of the pieces that were first printed by Ballard in 1707.
La Pastorelle. There is a vocal version of this piece, dated August 1711.
Gavotte la Bourbonnoise. Probably a portrait of a girl from this province of central France, though possibly a dance with this particular local colour. The word also means a flower rather like a campion.
Les Plaisirs de St Germain en Laye. The palace at St Germain en Laye was celebrated for its gardens and for the fetes champetres held there.
ordre 11
La Laborieuse. The word means industrious, assiduous, rather than laborious. L'Antonine. Almost certainly an invented adjective on the name Anton, so
the character portrayed is masculine. 356
Appendix F
La Charobise. Le Charolais is a district in central Burgundy.
La Diane. As a noun this word means the reveille, and the piece and its
sequel are both based on trumpet fanfares. But it is probably a pun on a
woman's name also. La Florentine. First published by Ballard 1707.
La Gamier. As previously suggested, this is probably a portrait of Gabriel Gamier the organist, a close friend of Couperin. Gamier, Couperin, Nivers and Buteme were joint organists of the Chapelle Royale.
ordre in
Les Pilerines. There is a vocal version of this piece, dated 1712. The pilgrims start on their march very merrily; the middle section in die minor is called La Caristade (alms-giving); the third returns to the major for Le Rimercie-ment.
Les Laurentines. Possibly an order of nuns? 'Laurentine' is a flower (the bugle), and also material embroidered with flowers.
L'Espagnolette. Probably a little Spanish girl; though the word means window-latch.
Les Matelotes Provenfales. Note that they are feminine sailors—a musical-comedy touch suggested by the ballet divertissement.
La Lutine. A female spright or goblin. Or it might possibly mean La Piece (or Muse) Lutine.
ordre iv
La Marche des Gris-Vitus. The Gris Vetus were a famous regiment, with a distinctive grey uniform.
Les Baccanales. A somewhat ironically compressed version of the bacchanalian revels of the classical opera.
La Pateline. Patelin was a figure in a fifteenth-century French farce. He was characterized by an excessively suave, crafty charm. This may be his female counterpart or it may be a 'pike pateline'.
Le Re'veil-Matin. One of Couperin's programmatic pieces. This alarm-clock must be played at a fairly brisk speed if it is to sound convincingly alarming.
ordre v
La Logiviere. A name?
La Badine. First published by Ballard 1707. Probably a girl, coquettish and tricksy.
La Bandoline. Possibly a woman from Bandol, near Toulon. Bandoline was
a hair-dressing, but this hardly seems relevant. La Vitters. Christophe-Alexandre Pajot, to whom the book is dedicated, or
his wife, Anne de Mailly. Les Agriments. Graces, ornaments, in both the technical and the social sense.
357
Francois Couperin Second Book ordre vi
Le Gazouilkment. One of the bird pieces. A twittering, warbling. La Bersan. Andr£ Bauyn, seigneur de Bersan, or his daughter. Les Baricades Misterieuses. 'Baricade' had its modern sense, at least after 1648.
This would seem to be a technical joke, the continuous suspensions being
a mysterious barricade to the basic harmony. La Commere. The gossip.
ordre vii
La Meneteu. A little monastery, or possibly church. But Tessier thinks it is somebody's name.
Les Petites Ages. The three sections of this piece are called La Muse Naissante, L'Enfantine, and L'Adolescente. It is clear that in this case the words 'enfantine' and 'adolescente' are adjectives to the implicit word Muse, the sex of the child being indeterminate.
La Chazi. A name?
ordre viii
L'Ausoniene. An archaic, poetical name for an Italian (after Ausonius). La Morinite. Daughter of Jean-Baptiste Morin (1677-1745), a composer.
ordre ix
La Princesse de Sens. There was no Princess of Sens; it merely means she
was a very fine, princess-like creature. Le Bavolet-Flottant. A havolet was a peasant's cap or bonnet. Le Petit-deuil ou les trois Veuves. 'Petit-deuiV is half-mourning; though it is
not clear why there are three widows.
ordre x
La Misangbe. Almost certainly a fabricated adjective from Mezangeau, the lute player and composer. The piece is in lute style. It is just possible that some pun on 'misange' (tomtit) is intended.
La Noite"le.]ean de Turmenies, seigneur de Noitele, or his wife (the daughter of a rich banker).
La Fringante. Frisky, nimble, agile (girl'or piece).
ordre xi
La Castelane. Has this something to do with a casde-keeper's daughter, or an inhabitant of Provence or the Basses-Alpes?
L'Etincelante ou la Bontemps. 'Bon temps' means diversion, pleasure, frolic; here it is used in the feminine with reference to Charlotte de Vasseur, who married Louis-Nicolas Bontemps, first valet de chambre to the king, in 1693. The character of the piece is probably more influenced by the meaning of the word than by the temperament of the woman.
358
Appendix F
Les Fastes de la Grande et Ancienne Menestrandise. The Minestrandise was a musicians' guild or trade union, founded in 1321. The leader was called the rot de minitriers. The menestrandise was formally sanctioned by Louis in 1659, and tried to establish authority over all composers, organists and clavecinists, as well as the lower ranks of professional musicians. Only accredited members of the Minestrandise were supposed to be licensed to perform. In 1693 a group of composers, including Couperin, made a protest to the King. The same trouble broke out again in 1707; and on both occasions the Menestrandise was defeated. Couperin's grouo of satirical pieces is a part of the propaganda war against the' closed shop ; he presents the minitriers as low characters, on a level with acrobats, strolling players, bears and monkeys, cripples and beggars.
ordre xii
La Vauvri. Presumably a name.
La Boulonoise. An inhabitant of the area of the Pas de Calais.
Third Book ordre xiii
Les Folies Francoises. This chaconne is a procession of carnival characters representing different human passions, each sporting a different (and symbolically) coloured 'dornino' or costume. The theme represents Virginity, with a domino 'couleur d'invisible'; the next six couplets personify La Pudeur (couleur de rose), L'Ardeur (incarnat), L'Esperance (vert). La Fidiliti (bleu), La Persivirance (gris de lin), and La Langueur (violet). The eighth couplet represents La Coquiterie, sous diffsrens Dominos; and the ninth, ancient gallants and the wives of superannuated treasurers, 'sous les Dominos pourpres etfeuilles mortes'. The tenth couplet introduces some benevolent cuckoos, having a yellow domino appropriate to the traditional joke about cuckoos. They are followed suitably enough by La Jalousie Taciturne, with a domino gris de maure; and by La Frinisie ou It Disespoir, with a domino black as hell. It is almost certainly intentional that the Folies Francaises are followed by
L'Ame en Peine, the soul in purgatory. AH these verbal jokes do not, of course, affect the power and pathos—as well as the wit—of the music.
ordre xiv
Le Rossignol en amour. La Linote ifarouchie. Les Fauvites Plaintives. Le Rossignol Vainqueur. This group of bird pieces is quite subdy descriptive, with liquid flourishes for the rrightingale and plaintive tweets for the warblers. The linnet does not sound particularly scared, perhaps, though his reiterated rising third suggests a mild agitation.
La Julliet. A girl's name? If so, a somewhat unexpected spelling.
Le Carillon de Cithere. Bells in Cytherea, a Watteauesque paradise.
359
Francois Couperin ordre xv
La Rigente ou la Minerve. Minerva, of course; but there was no Regent when this piece was written. 'Rigente' may be an adjective—i.e. 'La Muse Rigente ou la Minerve'.
Le Dodo ou Vamour au berceau. A traditional French nursery song; and the word Dodo is equivalent to our by-by. The little boy who is being lulled to sleep is presumably Cupid.
L'Evapore'e. Probably a girl. It means something between vapid and giddy, in the colloquial sense.
Musites de Ckoisi et de Taverni. Presumably Choisy-cn-Brie. There is also a Taverny in the Couperin country.
La Princesse de Chabevit ou la Muse de Monaco. This princess was the fifth daughter of the Prince of Monaco, a patron of Couperin. There is extant a letter from the Prince thanking Couperin for the piece.
ordre xvi
La Conti ou les Graces incomparables. Louise-Elisabeth de Bourbon, who
married de Conti in 1713. Le Drole de Corps. A bizarre creature, a grotesque. Perhaps related to the
burlesque. La Litiville. A name?
La Forqueray ou la Superbe. Antoine Forqueray (1671-1745), maitre de musique to the Due d'Orleans, and one of the greatest viol players and composers of his day.
Les Timbres. Probably little bells.
Les petites Chrimibes de Bagnolet. These little milkmaids have quite a rustic flavour, though they are elegantly stylized, a la Boucher. Bagnolet is a few miles from Paris.
ordre xvm
La Vemeville. La Vernevillete. Presumably a woman, and her daughter.
Le Turbulent. Here is one of the rare tides in the masculine. It constitutes a bit of evidence for those who believe that the feminine gender denotes the female sex; but not enough, I think, to discount the contrary shreds of evidence we have referred to.
Le Tic-toc-choc ou les Maillotins. ' Maillotins' may be a diminutive of'mail', and mean little hammers—a rather vague way of referring to the 'works' of the clock and the clattering hammers of the clavecin. But ' maillot' means swaddling-bands. It seems rather far-fetched to think that the implied collocation is that tick-tocks are things that infants enjoy playing with.
Le Gaillard boiteux. This merry fellow limps in a witty dotted triplet rhythm, with the quaint time signature of 2 :6.
360
Appendix F
ordre xix
Les Calotins et les Calotines ou la piice h Tretous. The calotins were members of a secret society (la calotte), composed of bright young things mosdy coming from the military class. They wore as their insignia a 'calotte de plomb et des grelots', and the purpose of their burlesque regiment was to protest against the growing melancholy of the court. They wrote satirical verses and performed burlesque plays. They were founded in 1702. Later, after Couperin's day, they were transformed into a serious military society which established an elaborate and sophistical code of honour and instituted courts to try defections therefrom.
' Tretous' ought to be a superlative oi'tous'. It seems curious to describe a piece about a secret society as a piece for everybody, unless it is an ironic joke, in the same way as we make witticisms about Freemasons. Couperin might well go in for that kind of humour. On the other hand,' tretous' is probably a variant of 'tritaus'. This would make it a piece on tresdes; and the burlesque plays were often acted on some such improvised stage.
Les Culbutes Jacobines. The Jacobins arc the religious order, though we do not know to which particular Parisian community Couperin refers. Nor do we know whether their 'somersaults' are literal or intellectual.
La Muse-Plantine. Perhaps Plantin is a person's name. If not, it would appear to be an adjective fabricated from 'plant'; though why a growing plant should be so melancholy is difficult to imagine. This is one of the most enigmatic of the tides.
Fourth Book ordre xx
La Princesse Marie. Marie Leszczynska, fiancee of Louis XV; hence the
sequel 'dans legout Polonois'. La Bouffone. This may be a female buffoon, or it may be a piece in the
bouffon style.
La Crouilly ou la Couperinette. This is usually said to be a portrait of Couperin's daughter but it seems to me more likely to be Couperin's memories of himself when young; for his connexion with Crouilly must have been closer than his daughter's.
La SiziU. Nicolas Sezile was treasurer of the Offiandes et Aumones du Roi. This may be he or his wife, Angelique Beaudet.
ordre xxi
La Couperin. This has been variously described as a portrait of Couperin's
daughter Marguerite-Antoinette, of his wife, and of Couperin himself.
One can take one's choice; the grave and closely wrought texture of the
piece is certainly worthy of Francois. La Petite Pince-sans-rire. Probably a woman, with a rather malicious turn of
humour.
361
Francois Couperin ordrs xxii
Le Point du jour. Daybreak, or possibly the district with that name paradoxically in the west of Paris. Le Croc-en-jambe. The trip-up.
Les tours de passe-passe. Legerdemain (rabbits out of hats, etc.).
ordre xxiii
Les Gondotes de Dilos. Mythical gondolas in a Wattcauesque fairyland.
ordrb xxiv
Les vieux Seigneurs. Les jeunes Seigneurs ci-devant les petits-mattres. Pieces contrasting the old grandgout of the Lullian opera with the new divertissement.
Les dars-homicides. Fatal darts—presumably Cupid's. Les brimborions. Gewgaws, trifles.
La Belle Javotte, autrefois I'lnfante. We do not know who this belle is, nor
whether it is she who was formerly an Infanta, or the piece which first
appeared under a different tide. L'Amphibie. I can suggest no explanation for this. If the tide is facetious it
seems odd when applied to the longest and one of the most grandly noble
pieces in the ordres.
ordre xxv
La Monflambert. Anne Darboulin, who married Monflambert, the King's wine merchant, in 1726. Almost certainly the wife this time, for this is a very feminine piece.
Les Ombres Errantes. Wandering shades; ghosts, very sad and languishing.
ordre xxvi
L'Epineuse. Probably the spinet-player (ferninine); applied to this suavely gende piece it can hardly refer to anything prickly or thorny.
ordre xxvii
Les Chinois. An example of eighteenth-century ckinoiserie.
Saillie. The word means a leap, a sudden start, a gushing out; or figuratively a witticism. The Saillie was also a step used in a dance called La Babette. A shaft of wit seems the most likely meaning here; the music is not characterized by any strongly marked leaps and bounds.
362
Appendix G
BIOGRAPHICAL NOTES ON THE PRINCIPAL PERSONS MENTIONED IN THE TEXT
Anglebeet, Jean-Henri ď (1630-1601). Composer of clavecin and organ
music. Successor to Chambonniéres as official clavecinist of the
Chambre du Roi. Aulnoy, Mme ď (died 1730). Novelist and writer of fairy tales. Bach, Carl Philipp Emanuel (1714-1788).   ~|    Discussed in relation to Bach, Wilhelm Friedemann (1710-1784).     >      French classical Bach, Johann Sebastian (1685-1750). J tradition.
Baciily, Bénigne de (1625-1690). Priest and teacher of singing. Remarques
curieuses sur ľart de bien chanter, published 1668. Balbastre, Claude (1727-1799). Composer and organist of St-Roch and
Notre Dame. Clavecin teacher of Marie-Antoinette. Ballard. French family of music printers. Founded by Guillaume le Bé in
1540, the firm flourished until the latter years of the eighteenth century. Bsnserade, Isaac de (1612-1691). Friend of Mazarin and Richelieu: devised
ballets.
Berlioz, Louis-Hector (1803-1869). Discussed in relation to the classical tradition.
Boesset, Antoine (1587-1643). Composer of ballets de com and airs de cour. Court musician to Louis XJJI.
Boileau, Nicolas (1636-1711). Representative of the classical ideal. Continued the work of Malherbe. Art Poétique, published 1674.
Boismortier, Joseph Bodin de (1691-1765). Composer of opera-ballets and of concerted music, especially for wind instruments.
Bossuet, Jacques-Bénigne (1627-1704). Bishop of Meaux and member of the Academy. An authoritarian, famous for his sermons, especially funeral orations.
Boucher, Francois (1703-1770). Painter and decorator of the Regency and of the age of Louis XV.
Bourdaloue, Louis (1632-1704). Jesuit father, celebrated as a preacher.
Bull, John (1563-1628). English composer, mainly of keyboard music. Organist of Antwerp Cathedral from 1613 until his death.
Bussy, Roger de Rabutin, comte de (1618-1693). Kinsman and correspondent of Mme de Sévigné.
363
Francois Couperin
Buterne, Jean (1650-1727). Organist and composer. Pupil of Henri Du
Mont. Organist of Chapelle Royale, 1678. Caix D'Hervelois, Louis de (1670-1760). Gamba player and composer.
In the service of the Due d'Orleans. Cambert, Robert (1628-1677). Composer of ballets, motets and airs i
boire. Member of Academie Royale, 1671. Setded in London 1672,
where he remained until his death. Campra, André (1660-1744). Composer of ballets, divertissements and
church music. Organist of Toulon Cathedral and later of St Louis des
Jésuites and Notre Dame de Paris. Caproli, Carlo (1615-1685). Italian opera composer called to Paris by
Mazarin. Maitre de la Musique du Cabinet du Roi, from January to
June, 1654.
Carissimi, Giacomo (1605-1674). Italian composer of church music, adapting operatic techniques to the oratorio. Worked in Rome, but exerted a great influence on French church music.
Caurroy, Francois Eustache de (1549-1609). Composer of motets, instrumental fantasias, and airs de cour.
Cavalli, Pierre-Francesco Caletti-Bruni (1602-1676). Pupil of Monteverdi and choir master of St Mark's, Venice. Composer of operas. Serse and L'Ercole Amante were produced in Paris in 1660 and 1662.
Cesti, Marc' Antonio (1623-1669). Pupil of Carissimi, composer of operas.
Chambonniéres, Jacques Champion de (1602-1672). Composer of clavecin music. Of noble birth, he followed his father and grandfather as official organist and clavecinist of the Chambre du Roi. Taught most of the composers of the French clavecin school.
Champagne, Philippe de (1602-1674). Painter. Friend of Poussin and associate of Port-Royal.
Champmesií, Marie Desmares (1644-1698). Tragic actress, famous for her portrayals of the heroines of Racine.
Chardin, Jean-Baptiste-Siméon (1699-1779). Painter (of bourgeois origin) of scenes from middle-class life; still influenced by the spirit of the classical tradition.
Charpentier, Marc-Antoine (1634-1704). French composer, mainly of
church music, who studied in Italy under Carissimi. Claude Geiée, le Lorrain (1600-1682). Painter; with Poussin the greatest
exponent of the classical tradition. Studied in Rome. Clérambault, Louis-Nicolas (1676-1749). Composer of clavecin music,
organ music, and sacred and secular cantatas. Pupil of J. B. Moreau;
organist of St Sulpice.
364
Biographical Notes
Cliquot, Francois-Henri (1728-1791). Famous organ builder.
Corelli, Arcangelo (1653-1713). Italian violinist and composer whose
work had great influence in France. Corneillb, Pierre (1606-1684). Creator of the classical ideal in tragedy. Corneille, Thomas (1625-1709). Younger brother of Pierre. Collaborated
with Lully.
Costeley, Guillaume de (1531-1606). Composer, especially of chansons for several voices.
Cotte, Robert de (1656-1735). Architect and decorator; designed the organ case and decorations of the Chapelle Royale at Versailles.
Couperin, Louis (1626-1661). Composer for clavecin and organ. Organist of St Gervais and of the Chapelle Royale. Wrote some ballet music.
Couperin, Francis the elder (1631-1701). Brother of Louis. Music teacher and organist.
Couperin, Charles (163 8-1679). Brother of above. Organist and composer.
Succeeded Louis as organist of St Gervais, 1661. Couperin, Francois le Grand (1668-1733). Son of Charles. Couperin, Marguerite-Louise (1676 or 1679-1728). Daughter of Francois
Couperin the elder. Member of the Musique du Roi. Many of the
soprano parts in Fran?ois Couperin le Grand's motets were written for
her. She was also a fine clavecin player. Couperin, Marie-Anne (1677-?). Sister of Marguerite-Louis. Entered a
convent where she played the organ. Couperin, Nicolas (1680-1748). Brother of above. Organist to the Comte
de Toulouse. Succeeded Francois le Grand as organist of St Gervais. Couperin, Marie-Madeleine (1690-1742). Daughter of Francois le Grand.
Became a nun, and was organist of the Abbey of Maubuisson, having
taken the name of Cecile. Couperin, Marguerite-Antoinette (1705-1778?). Daughter of Francois le
Grand. Became celebrated as a clavecinist and succeeded to some of her
father's court appointments. She taught the daughters of Louis XV. Couperin, Armand-Louis (1727-1789). Son of Nicolas. Composer of
organ music, clavecin music, sonatas and motets. Organist of St
Gervais, and successively of six other Parisian churches, culminating in
Notre Dame. Was also an expert on organ building. Couperin, Pierre-Louis (1755-1789). Son of Armand-Louis. Organist of
the Chapelle Royale, St Gervais, Notre Dame, St Jean-en-Greve, and
St Merry. Composer of motets. Couperin, Gervais-Francois (1759-1826). Son of Pierre-Louis. Composer
of symphonies, sonatas and religious music. Couperin, Nicolas-Louis (1760-18?). Son of Gervais-Francois.
3<S5
Francois Couperin
Couperin, Celeste (1793-1860). Daughter of Gervais-Francois. Last member of the Couperin dynasty. Lived at Beauvais with her mother until 1830, when she moved to Belleville near Paris and gained a living by giving piano and singing lessons.
Cousser, Johann-Siegmund (1660-1727). German composer, especially of operas. Studied with Lully, 1674-1682. Director of the Hamburg opera, 1694.
D'Aquin, Louis-Claude (1694-1772). Composer of clavecin and organ music. Organist of the Chapelle Royale in 1739, and of Notre Dame de Paris.
Debussy, Achille-Claude (1862-1918). Discussed in relation to the classical tradition.
Descartes, Rene" (1590-1650). Philosopher and mathematician, educated
at the Jesuit College of La Fleche. His works, especially the Traiti des
Passions de I'ante, profoundly influenced every aspect of the culture of
the grand stick, including musical theory. Destouches, Andrew-Cardinal (1672-1749). Amateur composer of operas
and divertissements. A pupil of Campra, he succeeded La Lande as
Surintendent de la Musique de Chambre in 1718, and was Inspccteur
General of the Opera from 1713-1728. Dornbl, Antoine (1685-1765). Organist and composer of concerted
music and cantatas. Dowland, John (1563-1626). English or Irish lutenist and composer.
Visited France in 1580, and became court musician to Christian IV of
Denmark in 1598. Setded in London finally in 1606. Du Mage, Pierre (?-?). Seventeenth to eighteenth-century organist and
organ composer. Organist of collegiate church of St Quentin, 1703-
I7I3-
Du Mont, Henri de Thier (1610-1684). Organist of St Paul, Paris, 1640, and of the Chapelle Royale, 1663. Important composer of church music, including masses on plainsong themes, a Magnificat, and Cantica sacra for solo voices and continuo. (Published Ballard, 1652 and 1662.)
Du Phly (1718-1788). Clavecin player and composer.
Erlebach, Philipp-Heinrich (1657-1714). German composer who studied in Paris the methods of Lully.
Faure", Gabriel-Urbain (1845-1924). French composer, discussed in relation to the classical tradition.
Fb'nelon, Francois de Salignac de la Mothe- (1651-1715). Priest, Archbishop of Cambrai, tutor to the due de Bourgogne, author of the Traiti de I'iducation des filtes and Traiti de I'existence de Diet*. One of the most profoundly religious minds of his time.
366
Biographical Notes
Fischer, Johann Kaspar Ferdinand (1650-1746). Composer of organ, clavecin and concerted music; studied the work of Lully. Le Journal iu Printemps, 1696.
Fontenelle, Bernard de Bouvier de (1612-1691). Critic and theorist engaged in the war of the Ancients and Moderns. Collaborated with his uncle Thomas Corneille in ballet and opera.
Forqueray, Antoine (1671-1745). Gamba player and composer.
Francisque, Antoine (1570-1605). Lutenist and composer, Le Trhor d'Orfie, published 1596.
Freneuse, Lecerf de la Vi£ville de (1674-1707). Francophile musical theorist. Author of Comparaison de la musique jrancaise et de la musique italienne.
Frescobaldi, Girolamo (1583-1643). Italian organist and composer.
Organist of St Peter's, Rome, from 1608. Gallot, Jacques (Gallot le vieux), (i6?-i68j). Lutenist and composer. Gallot, Jacques (Gallot le jeune), (<:. 1640-1700 or later). Lutenist and
composer, son of above. Gaultier, Ennemond (1575-1651). Lutenist and composer, teacher of
Marie de Medicis and Richelieu. Gaultier, Jacques (?-?). Lutenist and composer, son of above. Fled to
London, 1617, and was attached to the English court until 1647. Gaultier, Denis (d. 1672). Nephew or cousin of Ennemond Gaultier.
The greatest of the lute school. Garnier, Gabriel. Succeeded Le Begue as organist of the Chapelle Royale
in 1702. Friend of Couperin le Grand. Gibbons, Orlando (1583-1625). English composer; discussed as writer of
organ music.
Gigault, Nicolas (1625-1707). Organist and organ composer, one of the
teachers of Lully. Organist of St Martin and St Nicolas des Champs. Grigny, Nicolas de (1671-1703). Pupil of Le Begue, organist of the Abbey
of St Denis, and later of Rheims Cathedral. Composer of organ music,
mosdy of a liturgical nature. Gubdron, Pierre (1565-1625). Composer of ballets and airs de com. Maitre
de la Musique de la Reine and Surintendant de la Musique du Roi,
1609.
Handel, Georg Friedrich (1685-1759). Discussed in relation to French classical tradition.
Jenkins, John (1592-1678). English composer, lutenist, and string player.
Composer of fantasias for strings and some church music and songs. Jonson, Ben (1573-1637). English poet, dramatist, and masque writer.
Discussed in relation to the French classical tradition.
367
Francois Coupbrin
Josquin des Pres (1445-1521). Flemish composer of reUgious and secular music.
Juixien, Gilles. Late seventeenth-century organist and composer. Organist
of Chartres Cathedral; Livre d'orgue, published 1690. La Barre, Pierre Chabanceau de (1592-1656). Composer of ballets and
airs de cour. Organist of the Chapelle Royalc. La Bruybrb, Jean de (1645-1696). Writer of Lei Caracteres. Of bourgeois
origin, he became tutor to the family of the Condes, and a friend of
Bossuet.
La Fayette, Marie de (1634-1693). Novelist, author of La Princesse des
Cleves. Friend of La Rochefoucauld. La Fontaine, Jean de (1621-1695). Author of Contes and Fables. Elected
to Academy, 1683. La Lande, Michel Richard de (1657-1726). Leading composer of church
music in the time of Louis XIV. Also wrote ballets, and divertissements.
Organist of St Gervais, St Louis, St Jean-en-Greve, and of the Petit
Couvent St Antoine. Maitre de la Musique de la Chambre et de la
Chapelle.
Lambert, Michel (1610-1696). Composer of airs de cour and operas. A pupil of de Nyert, he was famous as a teacher of singing. Became Maitre de la Musique de Chambre, 1661.
La Poupliniere, Alexandre-Jean-Joseph le Riehe de (1693-1762). Farmer-general of taxes who acquired an immense fortune and became a patron of music. Supported Rameau, Stamitz and others.
La Rochefoucauld, Francois due de (1613-1680). Grand seigneur and honnete homme. Writer of Maxitnes. Influenced by Port-Royal, though not himself a Jansenist.
Lawes, William (1602-1645). English composer of Charles I's court. Wrote music for viols, masques, church music, etc.
Le Begue, Nicolas (1630-1702). Composer of organ and clavecin music. Pupil of Chambonnieres, organist of St Merry and of the Chapelle Royale, 1678.
Le Blanc, Hubert. Author of treatise defending the viols against the encroachments of the violin family.
Lebrun, Charles (1619-1690). Official court painter. Founded l'Acade'mic Royale de Peinture, 1648, Academie de France ä Rome, 1666.
Le Camus, Sebastien (i6io?-i677). Composer of airs de cour, etc. Maitre de la Musique du Roi, 1640.
Leclair, Jean-Marie (1697-1764). Composer of operas, violin sonatas, and concertos, etc. One of the greatest figures at the end of the classical tradition. Served as instrumentalist in the Musique du Roi
368
Biographical Notes
and at the Court of Don Felipe at Chambery. Visited Holland to meet Locatelli.
Lbjeune, Claude (1523-1600). Franco-Flemish composer of polyphonic
music and oímusique mesurée. Le Nótre, André (1613-1700). Designer of the gardens at Versailles and
elsewhere.
Le Roux, Gaspard (1660-1710). Clavecinist and composer of clavecin
music, motets and airs sérieux. Le Rov, Adrien (?-i58o). Lutenist, theorist, composer and music publisher.
Associated with Ballard. Published books on lute playing. L'Hermite, Tristan (1601-1655). Lyrical poet and writer of tragedies. Louis XIII (1601-1643). Enthusiastic amateur singer and composer. Louis XIV (reigned 1663-1715). Louis XV (reigned 1715-1774).
Lully, Jean-Baptiste de (1632-1687). Leading composer of opera and ballet for Louis XIV. Started his career as dancer and violinist in the ballet. Of Florentine origin, he became a strenuous opponent of Italian influence in French music. -x
Maintenon, Mme de (1635-1719). Married to Scarron and governess of the children of Mme de Montespan; it is probable that she secredy married Louis XIV. Wrote works of instruction for the school of St Cyr which she directed; and much valuable correspondence.
Malbbranche, Nicolas (1638-1715). Disciple of Descartes. A priest, he identified Reason with the Word of God.
Malherbe, Francois de (1555-1628). Poet and theorist; link between Ronsard and the Plélade, and the classicism of Boileau. Secretary to the due d'Angouleme.
Mansart, Jules-Hardouin (1645-1708). Official architect to Louis XIV.
Marais, Marin (1656-1728). The greatest of the classical composers for the viol; also wrote operas of remarkable interest. Pupil of Lully and chef d'orchestre of the opera (1695).
Marchand, Louis (1669-1732). Organist and composer of organ music, gready celebrated as a virtuoso. Organist of many churches and ultimately of the Chapelle Royale, 1706.
Marpurg, Friedrich Wilhelm (1718-1795). German composer and writer of theoretical works.
Mattheson, Johann (1681-1764). German composer and theorist.
Mauduit, Jacques (1557-1627). Lutenist and member of the Academie de Bai'f. Composer of religious music, chansonnettes mesurées and ballets for Louis XIII.
Maugars, André (1580-1645). Violist, politician, and English interpreter
2A 3<59
Francois Couperin
to Lotus XIII. Musician to Cardinal de Richelieu. Author of a Reponse
faite sur le sentiment de la musique d'ltalie, 1639. Mazarin (Guilio Mazarini) (1602-1661). Cardinal, minister of state and
patron of music. Introduced many Italian musicians into France, in his
enthusiasm for the Italian opera. Mezangeau, René (i5?-i639). Lutenist and composer. Mignard, Nicolas (1610-1695). Official court painter, especially of
portraits.
Mersenne, Marin (1588-1648). A Minorite friar, ordained in 1613. Taught philosophy at Nevers, and studied mathematics and music at Paris, with Descartes and the elder Pascal. Wrote important theoretical treatises on music. Corresponded about musical theory with Titelouze and others.
Moliere (pseudonym), Jean-Baptiste Poquelin (1622-1673). The greatest comic dramatist of the classical age. Collaborated with Lully in opera-ballet.
Mondonville, Jean-Joseph-Cassanea de (1711-1772). Composer of operas, opera-ballets, and concerted music especially for violin, on which instrument he was a virtuoso. Wrote works for the Concerts Spiritucls from 1737-1770, Surintendant de la Chapelle Royale, 1744. Represented the French national school in the Guerre des BouiTons.
Monteverdi, Claudio (1567-1643). Discussed in relation to French tradition.
Moreau, Jean-Baptiste (1656-1733). Composer, especially of religious music to plays and poems of Racine. Maitre de Chapelle at Langres and Dijon.
Mouret, Jean-Joseph (1682-1738). Composer mainly of ballets, orchestral
suites, and divertissements for the Italian comedies. Succeeded Philidor
as director of the Concerts Spirituels, 1728. Mouton, Charles (c. 1626-c. 1710). Pupil of Denis-Gaultier, the last of the
great lutenist school. Mozart, Wolfgang Amadeus (1756-1791). Discussed in relation to French
tradition.
Muffat, Georg (1645-1704). Alsatian composer who studied with Lully in Paris, 1665. Organist of Strasbourg Cathedral and later music director at Passau.
Muffat, Gottlieb Theophil (1690-1770). Son of above. Composer mainly
of organ and harpsichord music. Nivers, Guillaume-Gabriel (1617-1714). Organist and composer. Organist
of St Sulpice and of the Chapelle Royale, 1678. Noverre, Jean (1727-1810). Ballet dancer and dance theorist.
370
Biographical Notes
Nyert, Pierre de (1597-?). Rich amateur musician and teacher of singing.
Disciple of the Italians. Pascal, Blaise (1623-1662). Mathematician, scientist, writer, and Christian
apologist. Later associated with Port-Royal. Perrault, Charles (1628-1703). Author of the Paralleles des Anciens et des
Modemes, and of fairy tales. Perrin, Pierre (1620-1675). Poet and founder of the Academie Royale de
Musiquc.
Pescheur, Pierre. One of the builders of the organ of St Gervais. Philidor, André (1647-1730). Composer and windplayer for the Ecuric
Royale and Librarian of the King's Music. Pinel, Germain (r-1664). Lutenist and lute composer. Collaborated in
ballets de cour.
Poussin, Nicolas (1594-1665). Greatest painter of the classical-age. Studied
and worked in Rome. Purcell, Henry (1659-1695). Discussed in relation to the French tradition. Qutnault, Philippe (163 5-1688). Poet and librettist to Lully. Racine, Jean (1639-1699). Greatest of the classical writers of tragedy.
Associated with Port-Royal. Raison, André (?-i7i9). Organist and organ composer. Celebrated as a
virtuoso.
Rambouillet, Catherine, marquise de (1588-1665). Woman of society; established salon in the rue St Thomas du Louvre.
Rameau, Jean-Philippe (1683-1764). The last great musical representative of the classical age. Composer of operas, ballets, harpsichord music, concerted music and theoretical treatise on harmony. His operatic work dates from the latter part of his life.
Rebel, Jean-Féry (1666-1747). Violinist, clavecinist and composer of ballets and concerted music. Pupil of Lully.
Rigaud, Hyacinthe (1659-1743). Court and society painter, especially of portraits.
Roberday, Francois (c. 1620-ť. 1690). Organist and composer of organ music. Teacher of Lully.
Rosbnmullbr, Johann (1619-1684). German composer of motets, cantatas and sonatas. Worked for some time in Venice.
Rossi, Luigi Aloysius Rubens (1598-1653). Italian opera composer, called to France by Mazarin. His Orfco was performed at the court in 1647.
Rousseau, Jean-Jacques (1712-1778). Referred to as author of Dissertation sur la musique moderně and Dictionnaire de la musique, 1767.
Saint-Evremond, Charles de St-Denis, sieur de (1613-1703). Critic, letter-writer and man of society. Setded in London, 1661.
371
Francois Coüpbrin
Saint-Amant, Marc-Antoine de Gerard de (i594-1661). Tavern poet and member of the Academy. Wrote sophisticated lyrics, grotesques, and caprices.
Saint Simon, Louis, due de (1675-1755). Member of a noble family, courtier at Versailles. Wrote his famous memoirs of the age of Louis XIV many years after the events described.
Scarlatti, Alessandro (1660-1725). Italian opera composer.
Scarlatti, Domenico (1685-1757). Son of above. Composer of harpsichord music and operas. Celebrated as harpsichordist.
Scarron, Paul (1610-1660). Writer of nouvelles and burlesques.
Schütz, Heinrich (1585-1672). German composer mainly of church music.
Scudery, Madeleine de (1607-1701). Novelist; her salon was more
bourgeois, and more precious in tone than the Hotel de Rambouillet. SeVignI!, Marquise de (1626-1696). Celebrated as letter writer. Sympathized
with the Jansenists. Simpson, Christopher (?-i669). English gamba player and composer for
his instrument. Wrote theoretical works on the Principles of Practical
Mustek and on gamba playing. Sorel, Charles (1602-1674). Author of Histoire comique de Francion, a
picaresque novel, with real contemporary characters disguised among
the personae.
Stamitz, Johann Wenzel Anton (1717-1757). Composer and director of the famous symphony orchestra for the Elector of Mannheim. Visited Paris at the invitation of Le Riehe de la Poupliniere.
Stamitz, Karl (1746-1801). Bohemian composer. Pupil of his father, (above) trained in the Mannheim orchestra. Visited Paris in 1770.
Sweelinck, Jan Pieterszoon (1562-1621). Dutch composer, organist and harpsichordist.
Thibaut De Courville, Joachim (late sixteenth century). Founded with Antoine de Baif the Academie de poesie et de musique, 1570. Composed airs de cour.
Thierry Family. Seventeenth-century organ builders who worked on the organ at St Gervais.
Thomelin, Jacques (1640-1693). Organist and composer, principal composition teacher to Francis Couperin. Organist of the Chapelle Royale, 1678. Previously had been organist of St German des Pres and St Jacques de la Boucherie.
Tillet, Evrard Titon du (1677-1762). Amateur of the arts. Author of Parnasse Francois, 1732 (containing memoirs of the Couperins).
Titelouze, Jean (1563-1633). Founder and perhaps the greatest representa-
372
Biographical Notes
tive of the classical French organ school. All his music is liturgical. Organist of Rouen Cathedral. Urfb, Honors d' (1567 or 8-1625). Author of the pastoral romance L'Astrie, known as 'le breviaire des courtisans' (cf. St Francois de Sales's Introduction a la vie devote, which was called 'le breviaire des gens de bien').
Vaugelas, Charles Favre, baron de (1585-1650). Authority on the language of polite society. Remarques sur la knguefrancaise, 164.7.
Vauvenargues, Luc de Clapiers, marquis de (1715-1747). Author of Introduction a la connoissance de VEsprit hutnain. 'Un cceur stoique et tendre'—halfway between La Rochefoucauld and Pascal.
Voiture, Vincent (1598-1648). Son of a wine dealer. Wit and writer of society verse for the salons.
Watteau, Antoine (1684-1721). The greatest painter among Couperin's immediate contemporaries. Worked in Paris, painting especially the fete champitre and scenes from the Italian comedy.
373
Catalogue Raisonne
ABBREVIATIONS
The Key is shown thus:
(A) = A major.
(a) = A minor. Volumes of the Oiseau Lyre edition are shown thus
OL i.
b.-c.—basso-continuo. S. —soprano.
A. —alto. T. —tenor.
B. —bass.
In the case of the harpsichord music, the numbers of book and/or ordre are quoted thus: II, 12—Livre II, Ordre 12.
(a) WORKS
Series 1. Theoretical works. OL I.
Regie pour I'accompagnement. MS.., c. 1698. L'Art de toucher le clavecin, 1716 and 1717.
(Contains 1 allemande and 8 preludes for harpsichord.)
Series 2. Harpsichord music. OL II-V.
Premier livre de clavecin, 1713. Ordre No. 1 (g). „ 2 (d). „ 3 (c). .. 4(F). 5 (A).
(L'Art de toucher le clavecin) 1 allemande and 8 preludes, 1716. Second livre de clavecin, 1717. Ordre No. 6 (Bb). „     „ 6(G). „ 8(b). ,. 9(A). ..     .. 10 (D). ..        11 (c). „ 12 (E).
374
Catalogue Raisonne
Troisiéme livre de clavecin, 1722. Ordre No. 13 (b). „     „ 14(D).
15 (a). „     „ 16(G).
» 17(e)-„     „ 18(f). „ 19 (d). Quatriéme livre de clavecin, 1730. Ordre No. 20 (G). „ 21 (e). „     „ 22(D). „ 23 (F). „ 24 (A). „     „ 25 (Eb and C). » 26 (ff). .. 27 (b).
Series 3. Organ music. OL VI.
Pikes ďorgue consistantes en deux messes, 1690. Mass No. i 'Pour les paroisses'. „ No. 2 'Pour les convents', [sic]
Series 4. Instrumental chamber music. OL VII-X.
Pikes de vieles. 2 'viols' and b.-c. OL X. Suite No. i (e).
„ No. 2 (A). Trio-sonatas, etc. La Pucelle. (e) c. 1692. Published as La Francoise in Ordre No. 1
of Lei Nations, 1726. OL LX. La Steinqueraue. (Bb) c. 1692. MS. OL X. La Visionnaire. (c) c. 1693. Published as L'Espagnole in Ordre
No. 2 of Les Nations, 1726. OL. IX. L'Astree. (g) c. 1693. Published as La Piemontoise in Ordre
No. 4 of Lei Nations, 1726. OL LX. La Superbe. (A) c. 1693. MS. OL X.
VImperiale, (d) c. 1710-15. Published in Ordre No. 3 of Les
Nations, 1726. OL IX. Le Parnasse ou l'Apotheose de Corelli. (b) 1725. OL X. Apotheose de Lulli. (g) 1725. OL X.
375
Franqois Couperin
Les Nations: Sonades et Suites de Simphonies en Trio. 1726. OLLX.
Ordre No. 1 (e) La Francoise, and suite of 8 dances. „     „ 2 (c) L'Espagnole, and suite of 10 dances. „     „ 3 (d) Ü Imperiale, and suite of 9 dances. „     „ 4 (g) La Piemontoise, and suite of 6 dances. Concerts.
Concerts Royaux. Composed c. 1714-15, published 1722. Varying instrumentation. OL VII. Concert No. 1 (G).
2 (D). .. 3 (A). .. 4 (e).
Les Goúts-Réunis ou Nouveaux Concerts. Published 1724. OL VHI. Concert No 5 (F).
» 6(Bb). » 7(g)-
„ 8 (G) 'Dans le Gout Théatral'. „       „ 9 (E) 'Ritratto dell' Amore'. „ 10 (a). „ n(c).
„      „ 12 (A) 'A deux violes ou autres instrumens i l'unisson'.
„      „ 13 (G) 'A deux instrumens á 1'unisson'. „ 14 (d).
Sonade en quatuor, La Sultane (d) for 2 violins, 2 'basses de violes' and b.-c. c. 1695. MS. OL X.
Series 5. Secular Vocal Music. OL XI.
(1) Solo songs.
Doux liens de mon cceur. Air serieux. (A) S.    b.-c. c. 1701. Qu'on ne me dise. Air serieux. (e) T. + b.-c. 1697. Zephire, modere en ces lieux. (Brunete.) Air serieux. (G) S. + b.-c. 1711.
(2) Duets.
A l'ombre d'un ormeau. (Musette.) Air serieux. (F) S.A. + b.-c. 1711.
Epitaphe d'un paresseux: Jean s'en alia comme il étoit venu.
(d) S.B. + b.-c. 1706. La Pastorelle: Il faut aimer. Air serieux. (G). T.B. -j- b.-c.
1711.
376
Catalogue Raisonne"
Les Pellerines: Au temple d l'Amour. Air serieux. (C) S.B. + b.-c.
Les Solitaires: Dans l'lsle de Cythere. Air serieux. (g) A.B. + b.-c. 1711. (3) Trios.
A moy! Tout est perdu! Canon for S.S.S. (C.) La femme entre deux draps. Canon for S.S.S. (d.) Trois Vestales champetres et trois Poli^ons: Quel bruit sou-
dain. Trio en dialogue. (G) S.S.A. c. 1710. Vaudeville: Faisons du temps. Air serieux. (G) A.A.B. + b.-c.
1712.
Series 6. Sacred Vocal Music. OL XI-XJI.
(1) 'Dialogue.'
Dialogus inter Deum et hominem: Accedo ad te mi Jesu. (g) A.B. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
(2) 'Elevations.'
Audite omnes et expanescite. (c) A., 'Symphonie' (2 Vns.) +
b. -c. n.d. OL xn.
O amor, O gaudium. (A) A.T.B. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII. O Jesu amantissime. (c) A.T. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII. O misterium ineffabile. (A) S.B. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII. Quid retribuam tibi Domine. (e) A. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII. Venite exultemus Domino, (e) S.S. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
(3) Lecons de Tenebres.
No. 1 Incipit Lamentatio Jeremiae Prophetae. (D) S. + b.-c.
c. 1714-15. OL XII.
No. 2. Et egressus est a filia. (D) S. + b.-c. c. 1714-15. OL XII.
No. 3. Manum suam misit hostis. (D) S.S. + b.-c. c. 1714-15. OLXII.
(4) Magnificat, (d) S.S. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
(5) Motets, etc.
Converte nos, Dcus. Sept versets du Motet de Psaume lxxxv, Benedixisti Domini, (g) S.S.S.A.B.B., Chorus and Orch. + b.-c. 1704. OL XI.
Festiva laetis cantibus. Motet de St. Anne. (Bb) S.T.B. n.d. OLXII.
Jucunda vox Ecclesiae. Motet de St. Augustin. (A) S.S.B. +
b.-c. n.d. OL xn. Laetentur coeli. Motet de St. Barthélemy. (C) S.S. + b.-c.
n.d. OL XII.
377
Franqois Couperin
Laudatc Pueri Dominum. Motet de Psaume cxiii. (a) S.S.,
'Symphonie,' (?2 Vns.)+ b.-c. 1697. OL XI. \ O Domine quia refugium. Motet (on Psalm xc). (c) B.B.B.;
+ b.-c. n.d. OL XII. Qui dat nivcm. Verset du Motet 'de 1'année derniěre'. (e)"
S. 2 Fl Str. + b.-c. 1702. OL XI. Qui Regis Israel. Sept versets du Motet de Psaume lxxx. (c)
S.A.A.B.B. 'Symphonie' (2FI 20b.Str.) + b.-c. 1705.
OL XL
Tabescere me fecit. Quatre versets du Motet de Psaume cxix,
Mirabilia testimonia tua. (e) S.S., Chorus, 'Symphonie'
(2 Vns.) + b.-c. 1703. OL XI. Veni, veni, sponsa Christi. Motet de St. Suzanne. (D) S.A.B.,
Chorus, 'Symphonie' (i 3). c. 1698. OL XI. Victoria Christo resurgenti. Motet pour le jour de Piques.
(A) S.S. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
(b) TITLE INDEX OF HARPSICHORD MUSIC
Les Abeilles, Rondeau (g) I, 1. L'Adolcscente. See Les Petits Ages. Les Agrimens (a and A) I, 5.
L'Aimable Lazure. See Les Cherubins ou l'Aimable Lazure. L'Aimable Therese (g) in, 16.
Air dans le goüt Polonois. See La Princesse Marie, Pt. 3.
Airs pour la Suite de Trophee (D and d) IV, 22.
Allegresse des Vainqueurs. See La Triomphante.
Allemande (A) ä deux clavecins II, 9.
Allemande (d) L'Art de toucher le Clavecin.
Allemande 1'Auguste (g) I, 1.
Allemande l'Ausoniene (b) II, 8.
Allemande l'Exquise (b) IV, 27.
Allemande la Laborieuse (d) I, 2.
Allemande la Logiviere (A) I, 5.
Allemande le Point du jour (D) IV, 22.
Allemande la Tenelsreuse (c) I, 3.
Allemande la Verneuil (f) III, 18.
L'Amazone (D) II, 10.
L'Ame-en-peine (n) III, 13.
L'Amour au Berceau. See Le Dodo, ou 1'Amour au Berceau. 378
Catalogue Raisonne Les Amours badins. See La Divine Babiche, ou les Amours badins. L'Ampbibie, Mouvement de Passacaille (A) TV, 24. Les Amusemens, Rondeaux (G and g) II, 7. L'Angelique (a and A) I, 5. L'Anguille (d) IV, 22. L'Antonine (D), I, 2. L'Ardeur. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 3. L'Arlequine (F) IV, 23. L'Artiste (D) IE, 19. L'Atalante (e) II, 12. L'Atendrissante (f) III, 18. L'Audacieuse (F) IV, 23. L'Auguste, Allemande (g) 1,1. L'Ausoniene, Allemande (b) II, 8. La Babet (d and D) I, 2. Les Baccanales I, 4.
Pt. 1. Enjouemens Bachiques (F).
Pt. 2. Tendresses Bachiques (f).
Pt. 3. Fureurs Bachiques (f and F). La Badine (A) I, 5. Les Bagatelles (D) II, 10. La Bandoline (a) I, 5. Les Baricades Misterieuses (Bl») II, 6. La Basque (g) II, 7. Le Bavolet-flotant (A) II, 9. La Belle Javotte autre fois l'lnfante (a) IV, 24. Les Bergeries (Bl>) II, 6. La Bersan (Bb) II, 6. Les Blondes. See Les Nonetes, Pt. 1. La Bondissante (e) IV, 21. La Bontems. See L'Etincelante ou La Bontems. La Boufonne (G) IV, 20. La Boulonoise (e) II, 12. La Bourbonnoise, Gavotte (G) 1,1. Les Brinborions (A-a-a-A) IV, 24. Bruit de Guerre. See La Triomphante. Les Brunes. See Les Nonetes, Pt. 2. Les Calotines (D and d) III, 19.
Les Calotins, et les Calotines, ou la Pi£ce a tretous (d) HI, 19. Canaries and Double (d) I, 2. Le Carillon de Cithere (D) III, 14.
FRANgOIS COUPERIN
La Caristade. See Les Pelerines, Pt. 2.
La Castelanc (c) EE, 11.
Chaconne La Favorite (c) ä deux terns I, 3.
Les Charmes (a and A) II, 9.
La Charoloise (d) I, 2.
La Chaz£ (g and G) II, 7.
Les Cherubins ou L'Aimable Lazure (g and G) IV, 20. Les Chinois (b) IV, 27. La Commere (B|>) II, 6.
La Conti. See Les Graces incomparables, ou La Conti.
La Convalescente (f$) IV, 26.
La Coque"terie. See Les Folies Franfoises, Pt. 8.
La Coribante (e) II, 12.
Les Coucous Benevoles. See Les FoUes Francoises, Pt. 10. La Couperin (e) IV, 21. Courante l'Intime (e) II, 12. Courantes I and JJ (A and a) I, 5.
I and II (b) H, 8.
I and n (c) I, 3.
I and II (d) I, 2.
(e) HI, 17. „      I and 11(g) I, 1. Le Croc-en-jambe (D) IV, 22. La Croüilli ou la Couperine'te (g and G) IV, 20. Les Culbutesjxcxbxnxs (d) III, 19. La Dangereuse, Sarabande (A) I, 5. Les Dars homicides (A) JV, 24. Les Delices. See Les Petits Ages, Pt. 4 La Diane (D) I, 2. La Diligente (D) I, 2. La Distraite (g) III, 16.
La Divine Babiche ou les Amours badins (a) JV, 24.
Le Dodo ou L'Amour au Berceau (A) III, 15.
Les Dominos. See Les Folies Francoises ou les Dominos.
La Douce, et Piquante (A and a) III, 15.
La Douce Janneton (g) JV, 20.
Le Drole de Corps (G) HI, 16.
L'Enchanteresse (G) I, 1.
L'Enfantine. See Les Petits Ages, Pt. 2.
L'Engageante (b) HI, 13.
L'Enjouee (D and d) III, 19.
380
Catalogue Raisonnb1 Enjouemens Bachiques. See Les Baccanales, Pt. i. L'Epincusc (f$) TV, 26. L'Espagnolete (c) I, 3. L'Esperancc. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 4. L'Etincelante ou La Bontcms (c) II, n. L'Evaporee (A) III, 15. L'Exquise, Allemande (b) IV, 27. Fanfare (D). See La Triomphante, Pt. 3. Fanfare pour la Suitte de la Diane (D) I, 2. .
Les Fastes de la grande et ancienne Mxnxstrxndxsx (Pts. 1-5 in C and c) n, 11.
Les Fauv&es Plaintives (d) III, 14.
La Favorite, Chaconne a deux tems (c) I, 3.
La Fidelity See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 5.
La Fileuse (E) II, 12.
La Fine Madelon (G) IV, 20.
La Flateuse (d) I, 2.
La Fleurie ou la tendre Nanette (G) I, i.
La Flore (a) I, 5.
La Florentine (d) I, 2.
Les Folies Francoises ou les Dorninos (b) LTI, 13.
1. La Virginity. 7. La Langueur.
2. La Pudeur. 8. La Coqueterie.
3. L'Ardeur. 9. Les Vieux Galans et les Tresorieres suranees.
4. L'Espcrance. 10. Les Coucous Benevoles. j. La Fidelite\            11. La Jalousie taciturnc.
6. La Perseverance.     12. La Freneae, ou le D&espoir. La Forqueray. See La Superbe, ou La Forqueray. La Frenesie, ou le Desespoir. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 12. La Fringante (D and d) II, 10. Fureurs Bachiques. See Les Baccanales, Pt. 3. La Gabriele (D) II, 10. Le Gaillard-Boiteux (F) ffl, 18. La Galante (E) II, 12. La Gamier (D) I, 2. Gavotte, la Bourbonnoisc (G) 1,1. Gavotte (b) II, 8.
»    (c) I, 3-„    (f|) IV, 26.
.. (g)U-Le Gazouillement (Bb) II, 6.
38l
Francois Coüperin Gigue k Milordine (g) I, i. Gigue (A) I, 5.
„   (b) II, 8. Les Gondoles de Delos (F) IV, 23. Les Graces incomparables, or La Conti (G) III, 16. Les Graces Natureies (C and c) II, 11. Gris-Vetus. See La Marche des Gris-Vetus. Les Guirlandes (A and a) IV, 24. La Harpee (e) IV, 21. L'Himen-Amour (g and G) III, 16. Les Idees Hcureuses (d) I, 2. L'Jnfante. See La Belle Javotte autre fois l'Infante. L'Ingenue (D and d) III, 19. L'Insinuante (a) II, 9. L'Indme, Courante (e) II, 12.
La Jalousie taciturne. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 11.
Les Jeunes Seigneurs, cy-devant les petits Maitres (a and A) IV, 24.
La Julliet (d) III, 14
Les Jumeles (E and e) II, 12.
La Laborieuse, Allemande (d) I, 2.
La Langueur. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 7.
Les Langueurs-Tendres (Bb) II, 6.
Les Laurentines (C and c) I, 3.
La LeOville (G) III, 16.
La Linote efarouchec (D) HI, 14.
Les Lis naissans (b) III, 13.
La Logiviere (A) I, 5.
La Lugubre, Sarabande (c) I, 3.
La Lutine (c) I, 3.
Les Maillotins. See Le Tic-Toc-Choc, ou les Maillotins.
La Majestueuse, Sarabande (g) 1,1.
La Manon (G) 1,1.
La Marche. See Les Pelerines, Pt. 1.
La Marche des Gris-Vetus (F) I, 4.
Les Matelotes Proveneales (c) I, 3.
La Menetou (G) II, 7.
Menuet (A) II, 9.
.,    (c) I, 3-
„    (d) I, 2.
„    (D and d) IV, 22.
(g)U-
382
Catalogue Raisonní
La Mézangére (d) II, io. La Milordine, Gigue (g) I, i. La Mimi (d) I, 2.
La Minerve. See La Regente ou La Minerve.
Le Mistérieuse (C) IV, 25.
Les Moissonneurs (Bb) II, 6.
La Monflambert (c) IV, 25.
La Morinete (b) II, 8.
Le Moucheron (B!>), II, 6.
La Muse de Monaco. See La Princesse de Chabeuil, ou La Muse de Monaco.
La Muse Naissante. See Les Pentes Ages, Pt. 1.
La Muse-Plantine (d) III, 19.
La Muse Victorieuse (C) IV, 25.
Muséte de Choisi (A and a) III, 15.
Muséte de Taverni (A and a) III, 15.
La Naněte (g) 1,1.
La Nointéle (d and D) II, 10.
Les Nonětes, 1,1.
Pt. i. Les Blondes (g).
Pt. 2. Les Brünes (G).
L'Olimpique (A) II, 9.
Les Ombres Errantes (c) IV, 25.
Les Ondes (A) I, 5.
La Pantomime (fjf) IV, 26.
Les Papillons (d) I, 2.
La Passacaille (b) II, 8.
Passacaille VAmphibie (A) IV, 24.
Passepied (d and D) I, 2.
La Pastorelle (G) I, 1.
La Pateline (F) I, 4.
Les Pavots (b) IV, 27.
Les Pellerines (c) I, 3.
Pt. i. La Marche.
Pt. 2. La Caristade.
Pt. 3. Le Remerciement.
La Perseverance. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 6.
Le Petit-deuil, ou Les trois Veuves (A) II, 9.
Le Petit-Rien (D) III, 14.
La Petite Pince-sans-rire (e) IV, 21.
Les Pentes Chrémiéres de Bagnolet (e) III, 17.
383
Francois Couperin
Les Petits Ages (G and g) II, 7.
Pt. I. Le Muse Naissante.
Pt. 2. L'Enfantine.
Pt. 3. L'Adolescente.
Pt. 4. Les Delices. Les Petits Maitres. See Les Jeunes Seigneurs. Les Petits Moulins a Vent (e) III, 17.
La Piece ä tretous. See Les Calotins et les Calotines, ou la Piece ä tretous. Les Plaisirs de St. Germain-en-Laye (g) I, 1. Le Point du jour, allemande (D) W, 22. Preludes, in L'Art de toucher le clavecin.
No. i. (C).     No. 5. (A).
No. 2. (d).      No. 6. (b).
No. 3. (g).      No. 7. (Bb).
No. 4. (F).      No. 8. (e). La Princesse de Chabeuil, ou la Muse de Monaco (A) III, 15. La Princesse de Sens (a) II, 9. La Princess Marie, IV, 20.
Pt. i. (G).
Pt. 2. (g).
Pt. 3. (g) Air dans le goüt Polonois. La Prude, Sarabande (d) I, 2. La Pudeur. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 2. La Rafraichissante (a and A) II, 9. La Raphaele (b) II, 8. La Regente, ou la Minerve (a) III, 15. Les Regrets (c) I, 3. La Reine des Coeurs (e) IV, 21. Le Remerciement. See Les Pelerines, Pt. 3. Le Reveil-matin (F), I, 4. Rigaudons (d and D) I, 2. Rondeau (b) II, 8. Le Rossignol-en-amour (D) III, 14. Lc Rossignol-vainqueur (D) III, 14. Les Rozeaux (b) HI, 13. Saillie (b) IV, 27. Sarabande la Dangereuse (A) I, 5. Sarabande la Lugubre (c) I, 3. Sarabande la Majestueuse (g) 1,1. Sarabande la Prude (d) I, 2. Sarabande les Sentimens (G) I, 1. 384
Catalogue Raisonnä Sarabande 1'Unique (b) II, 8. Sarabande les Vieux Seigneurs (a) IV, 33. Les Saures Chevre-pieds (F) IV, 23. La Sdduisante (A) II, 9. Les Sentimens, Sarabande (G) 1,1. La Sezile (G) IV, 20. Sicilienne (G) Supplement to Livre 1. Les Silvains, Rondeau (G) 1,1. Sceur Monique (F) III, 18. La Sophie (f*) IV, 26. La Süperbe, ou la Forqueray (e) III, 17. Les Tambourins (G and g) IV, 20. La Tendre Fanchon (a) I, 5.
La tendre Nanette. See La Fleurie, ou la tendre Nanette. La Tcnebreuse, Allemande (c) I, 3. La Terpsicore (D) I, 2.
Le Tic-Toc-Choc, ou les Maillotins (F) m, 18.
Les Timbres (e) III, 17.
Les Tours de Passe-passe (D) IV, 22.
Les Tricoteuses (f) IV, 23.
La Triomphante (D) II, 10.
Pt. i. Bruit de guerre.
Pt. 2. Allegresse des Vainqueurs.
Pt. 3. Fanfare. Les trois Veuves. See Le Petit-deuil ou les trois Veuves. Le Trophäe (D) IV, 22. Le Turbulent (F) Dl, 18. L'Unique, Sarabande (b) II, 8. La Vauv^ (E) II, 12. Les Vendangeuses (a) I, 5. Les Vergers fleuris (a and A) III, 15. La Verneuil, Allemande (f) m, 18. La Vemeviillete (f) 01,18. Les Vestales (G and g) III, 16.
Les Vieux Galans, et les Tresorieres suranees. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 9.
Les Vieux Seigneurs, Sarabande grave (a) IV, 24.
La Villers (a and A) I, 5.
La Visionaire (E*) IV, 25.
La Virginiti. See Les Folies Francoises, Pt. 1.
La Voluptueuse (d) I, 2.
La Zenobie (c) LI, 11.
2B 385
Francois Couperin
(c) ALPHABETICAL INDEX OF SECULAR VOCAL MUSIC
A l'ombre d'un ormeau (Musette) Air serieux. (F) Duet for S.A. + b.-c.' 1711.
A moy! Tout est perdu! Canon for S.S.S. (C.)
Au nom charmant. See Les Pellerines, Pt. 3, La Caristade.
Au temple de l'Amour. Air Serieux. (C) Duet for S.B.+b.-c. See Les
Pellerines, Pt. 2. La Marche. Brunete. See Zephire, modere en ces lieux. La Caristade. See Les Pellerines. Pt. 3.
Dans l'lsle de Cythere. (Les Solitaires.) Air Serieux. (g) Duet for A.B. + b.-c. 1711.
Doux Uens de mon cceur. Air serieux. (A) S. + b.-c. c. 1701. Epitaphe d'un paresseux. See Jean s'en alia comme il etoit venu. Faisons du temps. (Vaudeville.) Air serieux. (G) Trio for A.A.B. -\- b.-c. 1712.
La femme entre deux draps. Canon^for S.S.S.J(d.)
Il faut aimer. (La Pastorelle.) Air serieux. (G) Duet for T.B. c. 1711.
Jean s'en alia comme il etoit venu. (Epitaphe d'un paresseux.) (d) Duet for
S.B. -f b.-c. 1706. La Marche. See Les Pellerines. Pt. 2. Musette. See A l'ombre d'un ormeau. La Pastorelle. See II faut aimer. Les Pellerines. (C.) Duet for S.B. + b.-c. 1712. Pt. i. Les Pellerines.
Pt. 2. La Marche. (Au temple de l'Amour.)
Pt. 3. La Caristade. (Au nom charmant.)
Pt. 4. Le Remerciement. (Que desormais.)
(See also Harpsichord Music, Livre I, Ordre No. 3.) Que desormais. See Les Pellerines. Pt. 4. Le Remerciement. Quel bruit soudain. (Trois Vestales champetres et trois Policons.) Trio en
dialogue. (G) S.S.A. c. 1710. Qu'on ne me disc Air serieux. (e) T. + b.-c. 1697. Le Remerciement. See Les Pellerines. Pt. 4. Les Solitaires. See Dans l'lsle de Cythere.
Trois Vestales champetres et trois Policons. See Quel bruit soudain. Vaudeville. See Faisons du temps.
Zephire, modere en ces lieux. (Brunete.) Air serieux. (G) S. + b.-c. 1711. 386
Catalogue Raisonnb
Elevations. See
(d) INDEX OF SACRED VOCAL MUSIC
Accedo ad te mi Jesu. Dialogus inter Deum et hominem. (g) A.B. + b.*c. n.d. OL XII.
Audite omnes et expavescite. Elevation .(c) A., 'Symphonie' (2 Vns.)-f-
b. -c. n.d. OL XII.
Benedbdsti Domini. Motet on seven verses of Psalm lxxxv. (g) S.S.S. A.B.B., Chorus, 2 Fl., 2 Ob., Str.+b.-c. 1704. OLXI. Converte nos, Deus. See Benedixisti Domini. Dialogus inter Deum et hominem. See Accedo ad te mi Jesu. IO amor, O gaudium. O Jesu amantissime. O misterium ineffabile. , Quid retribuam tibi, Domine. Et egressus est a filia. Lec;on de Teněbre, No. 2. (D) S. -f- b.-c. c. 1714-15. OL XII.
Festiva Laetis cantibus. Motet de St. Anne. (Bl>) S.T.B. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
Incipit Lamentatio Jeremiae Prophetae. Le9on de Teněbre, No. 1. (D)
S. + b.-c. c. 1714-15. OL XII. Jucunda vox Ecclesiae. Motet de St. Augustin. (A) S.S.B. + b.-c. n.d.
OL XII.
Laetentur coeli. Motet de St. Barthélemy. (C) S.S. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII. Laudate Pueri Dominům. Motet on Psalm cxii. S.S., 'Symphonie' (? 2Vns.)
+ b.-c. 1697. OL XI. Lecons de Teněbres du Mercredi Saint. Nos. 1-3. 1714-15. OL XII. Magnificat, (d) S.S. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
Manum suam misit hostíš. Lecon de Teněbre, No. 3. (D) S.S. + b.-c.
c. 1714-15. OLXII.
Mirabilia testimonia tua. Motet on four verses of Psalm cxix. (e) S.S.,
Chorus, 'Symphonie' (2 Vns.)-}- b.-c. 1703. OLXI. Motet de 1'année derniěre. See Qui dat nivem. Motet de St. Anne. See Festiva Laetis cantibus. Motet de St. Augustin. See Jucunda vox Ecclesiae. Motet de St. Barthélemy. See Laetentur cceli. Motet de St. Suzanne. See Veni, veni, sponsa Christi. Motet pour le jour de Páques. See Victoria! Christo resurgenti. O amor, O gaudium. Elevation. (A) A.T.B. -j- b.-c. n.d. OL XII. O Domine quia refugium. Motet, (c) B.B.B. + b.-c. N.d. OL XLT. O Jesu amantissime. Elevation, (c) A.T. + b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
3&7
Francois Couperin
O misterium ineffabile. Elevation. (A) S.B. -f b.-c. n.d. OL XII. Quatre versets de Psaume cxix. See Mirabilia testimonia tua. Qui dat nivem. Verset du Motet de l'annee derniere. (e) S., aFl., Str. + b.-c. 1702. OL XI.
Qui Regis Israel. Motet on seven verses of Psalm lxxx .(c) S.A.A.B.B.,
'Symphonic' (2 Fl., 2 Ob., Str.) + b.-c. OL XI. Quid retribuam tibi, Domine. Elevation, (e) A. 4- b.-c. n.d. OL XII. Sept versets de Psaume lxxx. See Qui Regis Israel. Sept versets de Psaume Ixxxv. 5« Benedixisti Domini. Tabescere me fecit. See Mirabilia testimonia tua.
Veni, veni, sponsa Christi. Motet de St. Suzanne. (D) S.A.B., Chorus,
'Symphonic' (? 2 Vns.) + b.-c. c. 1698. OL XI. Venite exultemus Domino. Elevation, (e) SS.+b-c. n.d. O.L. IJX Verset du Motet de l'annee derniere. See Qui dat nivem. Versets de Psaume lxxx. See Qui Regis Israel. „    „    „    lxxxv. See Benedixisti Domini. „    „    „    cxix. See Mirabilia testimonia tua. Victoria! Christo resurgenti. Motet pour le jour de Piques. (A) SS. -f- b.-c. n.d. OL XII.
(e) INDEX OF DESCRIPTIVE OR PICTORIAL TITLES OTHER THAN HARPSICHORD AND VOCAL MUSIC
Air de Baccantes (G) in Concert No. 8 'Dans le goüt TheatraT. Air de Diable (Bb) in Concert No. 6.
L'Apotheose de Corelli. See Le Pamasse, ou 1'Apotheose de Corelli.
Apotheose de Lulli. Trio-sonata, (g.)
L'Astree—La Piemontoise in Ordre No. 3 of Les Nations.
Badinage (A) in Concert No. 12.
Bruit de Guerre (Bb) in La Steinquerque. (Trio-sonata.)
Le Charme (E) in Concert No. 9.
La Chemise Blanche (a and A) in Pieces de Violes, Suite No. 2.
La Douceur (e) in Concert No. 9.
L'Enjouement (E) in Concert No. 9.
L'Espagnole (c) (Trio-sonata) in Les Nations, Ordre No. 2.
L'Etccetera ou Menuets (e and E) in Concert No. 9.
La Francoise (e) Trio-sonata in Les Nations, Ordre No. 1.
388
Catalogue Raisonní Le Gout Théatral, Concert dans. See Concert No. 8. Les Graces, Co uran te Francoise (£) in Concert No. 9. L'Imperiale (d) Trio-sonata in Les Nations, Ordre No. 3. Le je-ne-scay-quoy (E) in Concert No. 9. La Noble Fierté, Sarabande (e) in Concert No. 9. La Paix du Parnasse. Trio-sonata (g) in L'Apotheose de Lulli. Le Parnasse, ou l'Apotheose de Corelli. Trio-sonata (b). La Piemontoise (g) Trio-sonata, in Les Nations, Ordre No. 4. Pompe řunébre (A) in Pieces de violes, Suite No. 2. La Pucelle— La Francoise in Ordre No. 1 of Les Nations. Ritratto dell'Amore (E). See Concert No. 9. La Steinquerque, Trio-sonata (Bb). La Sultane, Sonata 14 (d). La Tromba (A) in Concert No. 10.
La Visionnaire, Trio-sonata (c) = L'Espagnole in Ordre No. 2 of Les Nations.
La Vivacité (E) in Concert No. 9.
389
Gramophone Records of Works by Couperin
THE OISEAU LYRE SERIES:
OL 10 Air Serieux, 1701. Brunete.
(Lise Daniels, soprano; Irene AitofF, piano.) OL 11 Les Fastes de la Grande et Ancienne Me'nestrandise.
(M. de Lacour, harpsichord.) OL 19 Air Serieux, 1697. Diane et Actaeon. Air Tendre. (Boismortier.)
(Lise Daniels, soprano; Irene AitofF, piano.) OL 43 Seconde Lecon des Tenébres.
OL 47    (Lise Daniels, soprano; Maurice Duruflé, organ; Fernand Lemaire, cello.)
OL 49 Motet: Venite exuhemus Domino.
(Erika Rokyta, soprano; Germaine Cernay, mezzo-soprano; Paul Brunold, organ.) OL 50 Motet: Adolescentulus sum.
(Erika Rokyta, soprano; Paul Brunold, organ; with violins and flutes.)
OL 51 Concert Royal No. 4.
OL 52    (A. Merckel, violin; R. Cortet, flute; F. Oubradous, bassoon;
M. Frecheville, cello; Morel, oboe; R. Gerlin, harpsichord.
Conductor, Roger Desormiěre.) OL 53 La Sultane, sonade en quatuor.
OL 54    (Alice Merckel and Blancpain, violins; Frecheville and Neilz, cellos; Isabel Nef, harpsichord; Desormiěre.) Le Dodo ou VAmour au Berceau.
(Frecheville, cello; Isabelle Nef, harpsichord.) OL 55 Le Rossignol en Amour.
(R. Cortet, flute; Isabelle Nef, harpsichord.) La Létiville. La Juilliet. (A. Merckel, violin; R. Cortet, flute; Isabelle Nef, harpsichord.)
390
Gramophone Records of Works by Couperin
OL 56 Musette de Choisi. Musette de Taverni. La Crouilli ou la Couperinéte.
(Morel and Gromer, oboe; Oubradous, bassoon; Alice Merckel, viola; Isabelle Nef, harpsichord; Désormiěre.) OL 57 Le Pamasse ou 1'Apotheose de Corelli.
OL 58    (H. Merckel, violin; G. Ales, violin; Frécheville, cello; R. Gerlin,
harpsichord; Désormiěre.) OL 59 Treiziéme Concert.
(Frécheville and Ladoux, cellos.) OL 60 Quatre Versets d'un Motet.
OL 92 (Erika Rokyta, soprano; Gisele Peyron, soprano; Maurice Durufle, organ; Yvonne Gouverné Chorus; Chamber Orchestra, conducted by Gustave Cloěz.)
OL 73 Neuviéme Concert: Ritratto dell'Amore.
OL 74    (H. Merckel, violin; A. Navarra, cello; Goetgheluck, oboe;
Oubradous, bassoon; Isabelle Nef, harpsichord.) OL 77 L'Himen Amour
(Isabelle Nef, harpsichord.)
OTHER RECORDINGS H.M.V.
DB 4441/6 Album of clavecin pieces, played by Wanda Landowska. Contains:
La Favorite; Les Moissonneurs; Les Longueurs Tendres; Le Gazouillement; La Commere; Le Moucheron; Les Bergeries; Les Tambourins; Les Jongleurs, Sauteurs, et Saltimbanques; Les Vielleux et les Gueux; Le Dodo ou VAmour; La Musette de Tavemy; La Passacaille; Les Folies Francoises; Les Vergers Fleuris; Les Calotins et les Calotines; La Sceur Monique. DA 1130   Le Rossignol en Amour.
(Wanda Landowska, harpsichord.) DA 4449 Chaconne.
(Eta Harich-Schneider, harpsichord.) DB 5010/1 Troisieme Lecon des Tenebres.
(Derenne, Cuenod, tenors; Archimbaud, Wetchor, sopranos; Yvonne Gouverne' Choir; Bracquemond, organ; Madeleine de Lacour, harpsichord; string orchestra, conducted by J. Evrard.)
391
Francois Coupbrin
DB 5087/8 'Piices en Concert'—Movements from Concertos Nos. 6 and 10.
(Pierre Fournier, cello, and string quartet.) DB 1767/8 Concert dans le Goůt Thiatral No. 8, for flute, oboe, bassoon, strings and harpsichord. (Ecole Normále Chamber Orchestra—Alfred Cortot.) (Also available in a performance by Wiesbaden Collegium Musicum—Weyns—on Telefunken E2354/5.)
Columbia
5215 Le Bapolet flottant.
(H. G. Marchcx, piano.) DF 84      Le Tic-toc-choc, ou les maillotins.
(Simone Plé, harpsichord.) LFX 606 L'Engageante.
(C. Guilbert, piano.)
Decca
Rigaudon en Rondeau. (Alice Ehlers, harpsichord.) F9331       Les Barricades Mystérieuses.
Le Tic-toc-choc (Monique Haas, piano).
Antholocie Sonorb
AS 13       Concert Royal No. 2.
(Viols and harpsichord—Curt Sachs.) AS 75       Offertoire sur les grands jeux. Sanctus.
(Joseph Bonnet, organ.) AS 109      La Convalescente.
Les Jeunes Seigneurs. Les Vieux Seigneurs. La Visiomtaire. (Pauline Aubert, harpsichord.) AS 115/6   Le Pamasse ou L'Apotheose de Corelli.
(Chamber Orch. of Soc. des Concerts de Versailles—Cloez.) AS 116      Concert dans le Goůt Théatral No. 9 (3 movements only).
(G. Crunelle, flute; V. Clerget, viola da gamba; P. Aubert, harpsichord.)
392
Gramophone Records of Works by Coupbrin
Paths
PAT (58     BJeit de Cromome.
(Joseph Bonnet, organ.)
(Also available in a recording by Vignanelli on Société de l'Edition de Musique Sacrée, 114a.)
DlSCOPHILES FRANCAIS
A 3 L'Apotheose de Lulli.
L'lmperiale. (Hewitt Chamber Orchestra.) A 16        Le Dodo; Le Tic-toc-choc; Les Faupettes plaintives; La Muse Plantine; L'Arlequine; Les Ombres errantes; Les Barricades mysterieuses; Les Folies fiancaises; La Passacaille. (A set of four records played by Marcelle Meyer, piano.)
Lumen
32031        Ostende, Domine.
(Yves Tinayre with chamber orchestra.)
Musicraft
MC 9       Fugue on the Kyrie.
(Carl Weinrich, organ.) MC 25      Le Carillon de Cythére. Les Ombres errantes. Les Vergers fleuris. (Ralph Kirkpatrick, harpsichord.) MC 84      Les Fastes de la grande et ancienne Ménestrandise. Le Tic-toc-choc.
(Sylvia Marlowe, harpsichord.)
Vox
VOX 163   Les Barricades Mysterieuses. L» Carillon de Cythére. (Gaby Casadesus, pianoforte.)
393
Francois Couperin
Technicord
T 9 Suite No. 2, A major.
(Alfred Zighera and Putnam Aldrich, viola da gamba and harpsichord.)
Concert Hall
B 14 Suite du Sixieme Ordre.
(Paul Loyonnet, pianoforte.)
The Oiseau Lyre records form a most impressive series, and the performances have the requisite elegance of style. The interpretation of some of the ornaments seems dubious—especially the consistently short appoggiaturas. It is a pity, too, that no attempt is made to introduce the notes inigales except on the few occasions when Couperin explicitly uses the word pointe.
Mme Landowska's interpretation of the ornaments in her harpsichord recordings sounds convincing, and she plays with verve and sensitivity. She too makes no attempt at the notes inegaks.
A number of these recordings are American and it is very doubtful if they would be obtainable in Great Britain. The same may also be said of a number of the French recordings with the exception of the Oiseau Lyre series.
394
Bibliography
GENERAL
Bouvet, Ch. Une dynastie de musiciens frangais; Les Couperins. 1919. Tessier, Andre". Couperin (Les Musiciens Celebres). 1926. Tiersot, Julien. Les Couperins (Les Maitres de la Musique). 1926.
Parti Original Texts
Bonnet, J. Histoire de la Musique. 1725. Burney, Ch. General History of Music. 1789.
Tillet, Titon du. Le Parnasse Francois. 1732. (Supplements 1743 and 1755.)
Aulnoy, Mme d'. Contes de Fees. 1697.
Boileau. Art Poitique. 1674.
Bosstjet. Selected sermons.
Bourdalotje. Selected sermons.
Bussy, Rabutin. Mimoires and correspondence.
Corneille. Theatre.
Descartes. Abrege'de la Musique. 1618.
Discours de la Methode. 1639.
Traiti des Passions de l'Ame. 1649. FÜnelon. De l'Education des Filles. 1687.
Lettres Spirituelles. 1718. La Bruyere. Caracteres. 1688. La Fayette, Mme de. La Princesse de Cleves. 1678. La Fontaine. Fables, 1668-1694, and other works. La Rochefoucauld. Maximes. 1665. Maintenon, Mme de. Lettres sur education des filles.
Correspondence generale. Malherbe. CEuvres diverses. Moliere. Thiatre. Noverre. Lettres sur la danse. 1760.
395
Francois Coupbrin
Pascal. Les Provinciates. 1656. Pensies.
Perrault, Ch. Le Siede de Louis XIV.
Paralleles des Anciens et des Modernes. 1688.
Histoires ou Contes du Temps Passe". 1697. Racine. Theatre.
St-Evremond. Lettre to the Duke of Buckingham. 1711. St Simon. Mimoires sur le Siecle de Louis XIV. Scarron, Jodelet, 1643, and other works. ScuDBRY, Mile de. Le Grand Cyrus. 1653.
CUlie. 1660. Sevign£, Mme de. Selections from Lettres. Sorel. Francion. 1623. Tristan l'Hermite. Poisies. D'Urfe. L'Astrie. 1607.
Vaugelas. Remarques sur la langue francaise. 1647.
Vaovbnargubs. Introduction ä la connoissance de fesprit hurnain, tuivi de
reflexions et de maximes. 1747. La Description de Versailles. Paris, 1694. Voiturh. CEuvres Diverses. 1649. Voltaire. Histoire du Siecle de Louis XIV. 1751.
Paintings of Poussin, Claude, Le Brun, Watteau, Philippe de Champagne, Chardin, Boucher, etc.
Mbrian. Topographica Gallia:. Vol. 1,1655.
Modern Works
Clark, G. N. The Seventeenth Century. 1929. McDougall, Dorothy. Two Royal Domains of France. 1931. Ogg, David. Europe in the Seventeenth Century. 1938. Prunieres, Henri. Lully. 1910.
Le Ballet de Cour en France. 1913.
L'Opira Italien en France avant Lully. 1913. Rolland, Romain. Musiciens (^autrefois. 1908. Tilley, Arthur. From Montaigne to Molibe. 1923.
The Decline of the Age of Louis XIV. 1929. Turnell, Martin. Articles on Molierc, Racine, Corneille, La Princesse de
Clives. The Classical Moment (1948). Welsford, Enid. The Court Masque. 1927.
Bibliography
Parts II and III (a) CRITICAL AND THEORETICAL Original Texts
D'Alembbrt, J. Reflexions sur la Musique. 1773.
Eiemens de la Musique. 1752. Avison, C. An Essay of Musical Expression. 1752. Bonnet, J. Histoire Generale de la Musique. 1715 and 1725. BoYViN, J. TraitS Abrege de raccompagnement. 1715. De Cahusac, L. La Danse Ancienne et Moderne. 1754. Brossard, S. Dictionnaire de Musique. 1703. Couperin, F. CEuvres Didactlques (Oiseau Lyre). De Chabanon, M. Observations sur la musique. 1779. De Chastellux, F.J. Essai sur l'union de lapoesie et de la musique. 1765. Corette, M. Le Maitre de Clavecin. 1753.
Feuillbt, R. A. Choreographie ou l'art de dicrire la danse (English trans.). 1710.
Lacombe. Dictionnaire Portatifdes beaux-arts. 1758. Lb Blanc, H. Defense de la Basse de viole. 1740.
La Vieville, Lecerf de. Comparaison de la musique Italienne et de la musique
Francaise. 1705. Goudar, A. Le Brigandage de la musique italienne. 1777. Grütry, A. Memoires. 1795. LouLii, E. Etemens de la musique. 1696. Mbrsennb, M. Harmonie Universelle. 1636.
Correspondence (Bibliotheque des Archives de Philosophie). Perrault, C. Paralleles des Anciens et des Modernes. 1688. Raguenet, F. Paralleles des Italiens et des Francois. 1705. PvAMBAü, J. P. Tratte de l'harmonie. 1722. Rameau, P. Le Maitre h danser. 1725. Rousseau, J. J. Dictionnaire de la Musique. 1768. Rousseau, J. TraiU de la Viole. 1687. St Lambert, M. de. Nouveau Tratte1 de raccompagnement. 1707. St Maro, R, de. Reflexions sur Vopha. 1741.
Modern Works
Borrel, E. L'Interpretation de la Musique Francaise de Lully d la Revolution. 1934-
Bukofzbr, M. Music of the Baroque Era. 1948.
397
Francois Couperin
Brennet, M. Marc-Antoine Charpentier. 1913. Brunold, P. L'Orgue de St Gervais. 1934.
Champigneuixe, B. L'Age Classique de la Musique Francaise. 1946. Chrysander. Preface to Augener edition of Clavecin Works of Francois
Couperin. 1887. Dannreuther, E. Musical Ornamentation. 1894.
Dolmetsch, A. The Interpretation of the Music of the Seventeenth and
Eighteenth Centuries. 1916. Gerold, T. Le Chant au XVJIiime Sihle. 1921. De Laurencie, L. Les Violinistes Francoises de Lulli ä Viotto. 1922-24. Pincherle, M. Corelli. 1933. PiRRO, A. Les Clavecinistes. 1924.
Prunieres, Henri. Nouvelle Histoire de la Musique. Vol. II, 1936. Raugbl, Felix. Les Organistes. 1933. Schweitzer, A.J. S. Bach. 1911. Westrup, J. A. Purcell. 1937.
The Prefaces to the Lyrebird Edition. 1933.
(b) MUSIC
D'Anglebert, J. Keyboard Works (Soci&e Franchise de Musicologie). Bach, C. P. E. Miscellaneous Keyboard Works. Bach, J. C. Miscellaneous Keyboard Works. Bach, J. S. Miscellaneous Keyboard Works. Ballard. Collections of Brunettes.
Blavet, M. Flute Sonatas and other Concerted Works (Rudall Carte). De Boismortier, J. D. Concerted Works (Edition Nationale). Boutmy, L. Pieces in Les Clavicinistes Flamands (Elewyck). Campra, A. L'Europe Galante.
Les Fetes Venitiennes, and other works. Carissimi, G. Cantatas and Sacred Histories (Schola Cantorum). Db Chambonnibres, J. C Keyboard Works (Senart). Charpentier, A. Cantatas and Sacred Histories (Schola Cantorum). Clerambault, L. N. Concerted Works and Cantatas (Edition Nationale).
Organ Works (Archives Guilmant). Corelli, A. Sonatas and Concerti Grossi (Augener, edited Joachim and
Chrysander).
Corrette, M. Concerted Works (Edition Nationale). Couperin, Louis. Complete Keyboard Works (Oiseau Lyre).
398
Bibliography
Couperin, Francois. Complete Works (Oiseau Lyre). Dagincour, F. Pikes pour orgue (L. Panel, 1934). Dieupart, H. Pieces pour clavecin (Oiseau Lyre).
Dowland, J. Lute Pieces (Curwen, ed. Warlock), and Ayres (Stainer & Bell). Dumont, H. Motets and Masses (Schola Cantorum). Du Phly. Pikes de Clavecin. 4 vols. (Boyvin, 1755).
Expert, H. (ed.). Les Maitres Musiciens de la Renaissance Francaise (Senart). Fiocco, J. H. Pieces in Les Clavecinistes Flamands (Elewyck). Fischer, J. K. F. CEuvres computes pour clavecin et orgue (E. von Werra).
Concerted Works (Denkmäler der Tonkunst). Froberger, J. Keyboard Works (Peters).
Suites de Clavecin (Amsterdam, ?). Frescobaldi, G. Musices Organicce and other Keyboard Works (Breitkopf
and Härtel).
Fux, J. J. Concentus Musico-instrumentalis (Denkmäler der Tonkunst). Gaultier, Denis (and other lutenists). La Rhitorique des Dieux (Societe"
Francaise de Musicologie). Gigault, N. Organ Works (Archives Guilmant). Grigny, N. de. Organ Works (Archives Guilmant). Grovlez, G. (ed.). Collections of Les Clavecinistes (Chester). Handel, G. Violin sonatas, keyboard suites, etc. D'Hervelois, Le Caix. Pikes de Vieles (Paris, 1725). Leclair, J. M. Livres de Sonates (Boyvin et Leclerc, 1723.) La Lande. M. de Musique pour les Soupers du Roi (Oiseau Lyre).
Motets (Paris, 1729). Lully, J. S. Theatre and Church Music (Editions de la Revue Musicale). Le Begue, N. Organ Works (Archives Guilmant). Lb Roux, G. Pieces de Clavecin (Amsterdam, 1706). Mondonville, J. Pikes de Clavecin en Sonates avec Accompagnement de Violon (Socie'te' Francaise de Musicologie).
Sonates pour le Violon avec la Basse Continue (Paris, 1733). Mouret, J. Suites pour des Violons, des hautbois et des cors de Chasse (Renee
Viollier, 1729).
Marais, Marin. Pikes de viole (Paris, 1690-1729, isolated pieces published by Schott).
Marchand, L. Organ Works (Archives Guilmant).
Pieces de Clavecin (Etienne Roger). Marpurg. Suites for clavier, 1762 (no modern edition). Mattheson, J. Suites for clavier, 1714 (no modern edition; some pieces in
Schirmer's Early Keyboard Music).
Les Maitres du Chant, book 4 (Heugel).
399
Francois Coupbrin
Muffat, Georg. Florilegia, and other concerted works (Denkmäler der Tonkunst).
Muffat, Gottheb. Harpsichord Works (Denkmäler der Tonkunst). Purcbix, H. Trio Sonatas, and other works (Oiseau Lyre). Raison, A. Organ Works (Archives Guilmant). Rambau, J. Harpsichord Works (Durand).
Raugel, Felix (ed.) Les Mäitres Francoises de l'Orgue (Schola Cantorum). Rebel, F. Concerted Works (Edition Nationale). Roberday, F. Organ Works (Archives Guilmant). Rossi, L. Six Cantatas (Senart).
Schutz, H. Sacred Histories, and other works (Ed. Spitta, Breitkopf and Härtel).
Telemann, G. P. Musique de table (Denkmäler der Tonkunst). Titelouze, J. Organ Works (Archives Guilmant). Torchi (ed.). L'Arte Musicale in Italia (Ricordi).
Warlock (ed.). Songs from Bataille's Airs de diffirents auteurs, 1008-18 (O.U.P.).
NOTE: This Bibliography aims at including all the more important works, creative and critical, which have been consulted during the writing of this book. It does not claim to be a comprehensive list of all the works which could legitimately be considered relevant to the subject. I have specified the editions of musical works which I have been able to use; it does not necessarily follow that the specified edition is the best one, though I have tried to use the most authoritative edition where possible.
4OO
Index of Persons
Affilard, M. d', 347, 348, 349 Alarms, H., 235 Albert, H., 66
Alembert, J. d\ 237, 238, 239, 240, 300,
3i7q-. 318 Andreini, Isabella, 54-5 Angennes, Julie d', 53 Anglebert, J. H. d' (the elder), 89, 204,
205
Anglebert, J. H. d' (the younger), 21, 34
Ansault, Marie Anne, 19 Aquin de Chateau-Lyon, 22 Arnauld, A., 42, 77 Assoucy, C. d', 54 Augustine, St., 41 Aulnoy, Mme d', 48 Avison, C, 235q., 3i8q., 319
Bacilly, B. de, 132, I35q., 136, 138, 139 Bach, C. P. E., 284-5, 286.302, 354 Bach, J. S., 22, 25, 84, 85,93, 94,99,101, 102, 104, 108, 110, 113, 114, 116, 127, '55. l<5o, 169, 176, 187, 194, 199. 206, 207, 208, 209, 210, 211, 215, 218, 221, 228, 229, 233, 237, 260, 262, 265, 267, »73, 275, 280, 284, 286, 288, 30s, 306n., 308, 309, 315, 319-20, 329, 331, 333. 336 Bach, W. F., 285
Bacilly, B., 133,134.I35q., i3«q-. I37q-.
138, I39q-Baif, A. de, 64 Balbastre, C, 95
Ballard (family), 139,140, 22on.( 338 Baltzar, T., 265 Balzac, J. L. de, 51 Bardi, Count, 62 Basset, J., 194 Beaujoyeulx, B. de, 64 Berlioz, H., 288 «ernini, G., 148 Biancolelli, 55 ""iber, H., 101, 265 ' vet, M., 274, 280
!t, A., 66-7,132-3,134 au, N., ijq., 40, J5-8, 67, 69, 77. 8iq., 321 Joismortier, B. de, 54, 274 Sonnet, J., 72n., 76, I46q., 289q., 325
2C
Borrel, E., 295, 298, 313, 347 Bossuet, J. B., 39, 41-2, 77 Bouchard, J. J., I33q., 134 Boucher, F., 274 Bourdaloue, L., 39, 42 Boutmy, L., 278
Bouvet, C, ii, 25, 263, 33a, 338-9, 341 Bouys, A., 25
Boyvin, J., 91, 263, 276, 311-4
Brijon, E. R., 319
Brossard, S. de, 238
Brunold, P., 11, 325, 326,340,342
Buffardin, P. G., 278
Bull, J., 83, 86n., 91, 188
Burclchardt, J., 60
Burney, C, 22n., 8$n., 278n., 328n. Buterne, J., 20 Buxtehude, D., 84 Byrd, W., 61, 188
Cabezon, A. de, 83 Caccini, G., 65, 129 Caigret, D., 137 Caix d'Hervelois, L. de, 265 Cambert, R., 134 Campistron, J. G. de, 71 Campra, A., 77, 78, 79 Caproli, C, 68-9
Carissimi, G., 67, 103, 148-50,151, 154, 155, 158, 166, 169, 254, 273, 329, 332 Castallux, F.J., Chevalier de, 318 Cauchie, M, 340 Caurroy, E. du, 63 Cavalieri, E. de, 148 Cavalli. P. F., 68, 69, 149 Cesti, M. A., 79 Chabanon, G. de, 318 Chabrier, E., 71
Chambonnieres, J. C. de, 17, 18, 53, 92, 108, 114, 155, 188, 192, 195-9. 200, 204, 205, 206, 25$, 279
Champagne, P. de, 42
Chapelain, J., 52
Chardin.J. B., 43, 216
Charles DC, 64
Charles I, court of, 194. 264
Charme, 190
Charpentier, M. A., 150-2, 273 Chopin, F., 230
Choquel, H. L., 297, 33iq-. 348
4OI
Francois
Claude Gelee le Lorrain, 26, 37, 74, 75,
117, 204, 244 Clerambault, L., 274, 286 Clicquot, F. H., 325-7, 32811. Colbert, J. B., 40
Corelli, A., 97. 99. 101, 102, 103, 104, 106, 108, 205, 207, 266, 272, 280
Corneille, P., 11, 26, 29, 35-8, 41, 47, S3. S<5. 71, 75. 154. 206
Corneille, T., 71
Corrette, M., 274, 297, 28on.
Costeley, G. de, 6i, 207
Cotte, R. de, 58, 323
Couperin, Armani-Louis, 24, 328n.
Couperin, Celeste, 24-5
Couperin, Charles (the elder), 17
Couperin, Charles (the younger, father of Couperin le Grand), 17, 18, 341-3
Couperin, Denis, 17
Couperin, Francois (the elder), 17, 341-3
Couperin, Francois ie Grand
Life and Times: Parentage 17; early training, 18-19; becomes organist of St Gervais, 19; marriage 19; first works for organ and experiments in Italian sonata technique, 19-20; becomes one of the organists of the Chapelle Royale, 20; ennobled by Louis XIV, 20; composition of church music and of chamber music for the concerts du dimanche, 20-1; becomes Ordinaire de la Musique, 21; relations with Lecerf de la Vieville and Louis Marchand, 22; publication of later works, 22-3; ill-health and death, 24
Character and appearance, 25; Couperin as representative of his age, 26-27
Compared with Racine, 38; with Chardin, 43; with Watteau, 47-8
Couperin and prkiositi, 53; relation to the Commedia dell'Arte, 54-5; Couperin and the taste of the Regency, 58; attitude to court theatre music, 79
The Work (Main themes only; specific works are listed alphabetically in the General Index):
Couperin and the French organ school, 83-96; Couperin and the problems of Italian sonata technique, 97-104; discussion of the da chiesa sonatas, 104-12; discussion of the da camera sonatas or partitas, 112-8; compared with Fenelon, 111; compared with Watteau and Venetian painters, 119; discussion of the two Apotheoses, 118-
127; relation to Purcell and Bach, 126-127; Couperin and the brunette tradition; relation of brunette style to Couperin's church music, 141-5
Comparison of Couperin's and La Lande's church music with that of Lully, with references to Corneille and Racine, 153-4; relation of Couperin's church music to Josquin, Dufay and Bach; discussion of the church music, 155-87; compared with Fenelon, 168-9
Relation of Couperin's technique in clavecin music to the lutenists and earlier clavecin composers, 188-205; use of binary principle in dance movements and of rondeau and chaconne form, 206; 'Bachian compromise' between polyphony and homophony, 206-7; survey of the types of piece in the first volume, 207-11; discussion of the second book, 211-7; the preludes and allemande from L'art de toucher le clavecin; the third and fourth books, 220-32; Couperin, Watteau and Harlequin, 226; impressionism in Couperin's music, 209, 232; the position of the fourth book among other great works; relation to Racine and Watteau, 233
Views on the performance of the Concerts Royaux, 234-5; treatment of binary form in the concerts, 241-2; discussion of the concerts, 242-63; authorship of the suites for viols, 263; the suites for viols as the consummation of the French viol tradition; discussion of the suites for viols, 266-9; Couperin's chamber works as entertainment music; les charmes de la vie, 269-71
Survey of Couperin's development, 272-3; his position in French cultural history, 273-4; his successors in France, 274-7; Belgian disciples, 277-8; influence in Germany, 279-86; relation to later French composers, 286-7; relation to English culture in the seventeenth century, 287-8; stature among European composers, 288
Theory and Practice.
Rigles pour I'accompagnement, 291; discussion otVArt de toucher le Clavecin: Hints on teaching method, 291-3; remarks on the nature and technique of the instrument, 293-4; comments on tempo and rhythm, 294 et seq.;
402
index of persons
Couperin—cont. comments on ornamentation, 301-7; comments on fingering and phrasing, 308-10; comments on continuo playing. 311. 315-16; comments on aims and intentions, 316-17; expression in Couperin's music, 319-21
Use of organs at St Gervais and at the Chapelle Royale, 329-30; use of solo voices and chorus and treatment of recitative in church music, 330-1; treatment of instrumental resources in church music, 331-2; performance of violin sonatas and suites, 332-3; performance of clavecin music, 333-s; performance of concerts and suites for viols, 335-6; dynamics in Couperin's music, 336; authorship of organ masses, 341-3
Couperin, Gervais-Francois, 24
Couperin, Louis, 17, 18, 194, 199-204, 205, 206, 278, 327
Couperin, Marguerite-Louise, 21, 330
Couperin, Marguerite-Antoinette, 20,24
Couperin, Mathurin, 17
Couperin, Nicolas, 24
Couperin, Nicolas-Louis, 24
Couperin, Pierre-Louis, 24
Courville, T. de, 64
Dagincour, F., 274 Dandrieu, J. F., 274 Dannreuther, E., 13, 303 Daquin, L. C, 78q., 274 Debussy, C, 226, 273, 287 De Gucy, 138 De Piles, H9n.
De Rosiers, A., I39q •
Descartes, R., 40-1, 27oq., 320-1
Desormiere, R., 75
Destouches, A., 77-8, 79
Diderot, D., 319
Diemer, L., 339
Dieupart, C, 3o6n., 345
Dolmetsch, A., 13, 295, 302, 303, 308
Doni,J. B., I33q., 134
Donne, John, 287
Dornel, L. A., 21, 274
Dos Passos, J., 46
Dowland, John, 63, 189, 190
Dryden.John, 288
Dubois, J. G., 23$
Du Cerceau, J. A., 54
Dufay, G., 155,158
Du Four, 330
Du Mage, P., 95
Dumont, H., 91, 152
Du Phly, 274, 276-8, 245-6
Duval, F., 235, 297
Edouard, 280 Emmanuel, M., 325 Enclos, Ninon de ľ, 191 Engramelle, Pere, 296 Erlebach, P. H., 279
Farinel, M., 150 Farnaby, G., 188 Farrenc, J. H. A., 339 Fauré, G., 169, 201,287, 288 Felibien, J. F., H9n.
Fénelon, F. S., 20, 39, 42, 44q., J7q.,
iiiq., i68q., 169 Feuillet, J., 237 Fiocco, J. J., 277-8 Fiorilh, 55 Fischer, J. C, 279 Fitzwilliam, Lord, 345-7 Fontenelle, B. de, 57, 318 Ford, Henry, 46
Forqueray, A., 21, 264, 265, 266, 280 Francisque, A., 189 Frederick the Great, 278 Frescobaldi, G., 83, 85, 87,91, 97 Froberger, J., 278, 345 Fux, J. J., I25n., 280
Gabrieli, G., 97, 98, 146
Gallon, j., 338, 339
Gallot.J., 190, 191
Garnier, G., 21
Gastoué, A., 340
Gaulois, Abbé le, I99q.
Gaultier, D., 18, 190-3, 195, 196, X98,
199, 204 Gaultier, E., 190 Gaultier, J., 189, 190 Gerold, T., 13 Gesualdo, C, 83, 93 Gheyns, M. van den, 278 Gibbons, O., 83, 84,188 Gigault, N., 67, 85, 91, 95 Giorgione, G. B., 119 Gilles (portrait of), 227 Gobert, T., 137 Grassineau, J., 238 Graupner, C., 286 Grenailles, M. de, 27m. Grévailles, A. de, 270n. Grigny, N. de, 29, 95. 3<X>n. Grimm, F. M., 277q. Guarini, C. G., 130
403
Francois
Guédron, P., 66-7, 129, 132, 133, 134 Guérin, Marie, 341 Guignon, J. P., 280 Guillemain, L., 274 Guyon, Mme, 42
Halle, A. de la, 61
Handel, G. F., 92, 93, 100, I02n., 104, 108, U2, 124, 149, 155, 165, 192, 299, 205, 211, 237, 255, 28on., 281, 282, 284, 288, 315, 346
Haydn, J., 101, 276, 285
Henri IV, 189
Henry II, 60
Hough, J., 330
Ilette, E. ď, 297
Kirnberger, J., 286 Knight, R. C, 11 Krebs, J. T., 286, 3o6n. Kuhnau, J., 95 Kusser.J. J., 279
Jambe-de-Fer, Philibert, 61, 62q.
Jannequin, C, 61
Jenkins, John, 126, 140, 264, 288
Jodelle, E., 63
Johnson, Samuel, 30
Jonson, Ben, 66, 216, 287, 288
Josquin des Pris, 61, 86, 155, 158, 159
Joyeuse, Due de, 64
Jullien, G., 89
La Barre, P. de, 133
La Broyére, J. de, 28q„ 39, 43q.. 44q-.
4<S. Jiq., 53q-. 5«. 76 Lacassagne, Abbé J., 33lq. La Champmeslé, 72 Lachapelle, J. A., 348 Lacombe, J., 238, 239 La Fayette, Mme de, 45, 46 La Fontaine, J., 26, 29, 3s, 44, 48, 51, 54,
I32q., 144
La Lande, M. R. de, 19, 22, 29, 38, 75, 152-3. IJ4. I5S. 379, 288. 323, 330, 343. 345. 346
Lambert, M., 133,134,137
Landowska, W., 334
La Rochefoucauld, F. de, ss-6, 105, 130
Lassus, R. de, 61, 63, 86, 288 Laurencie, L. de, 2800. Lawes, W., 126, 140, 264, 288 Le Bigue, N., 20, 85, 95, 202, 206 Le Blanc, H., 263
Coupbrin:
Lebrun, G, 40, 58, 236, 273, 321 Le Camus, S., 133, 137 Leclair, J. M., 102, 103, 274, 277 Le Jeune, C, 63, 64,137 Le Notre, A., 29, 40,74 Le Riehe de la Poupeliniere, 324 Le Roux, G., 204-5, 306n., 34J Le Roy, A., 63,128 L'Hermite, T., 51,131 Locatelli, P., 28on. Lorraine, Chevalier de, 32 Louis xin, 35
Louis XIV, 20, 30, 46-7. SS. 77. 78.153. 195
Loulií, E., 295 et seq.
Lully, J.-B., 12, 22, 29, 40, 4L 47. 4». 54n., 58, 61, 65-80, 84, 85, 92.95.i°2, 104, 106, 114, 118, 122, 126, 127, 128, 137, 140, 141, 145, 149. 150. 153-5. 164,169, 203, 211,250,266, 269, 272, 273, 278, 279, 280, 284, 286, 288, 297, 321. 323. 330, 345. 349-55
Luynes, Constable de, 65
Mace, T., I02q., 103, 236q.
Machy, E. de, 264
Maine, Duchesse de, 324
Maintenon, Mme de, 29, 40, 42, 46, 55,
77. 324 Malebranche, N., 57 Malherbe, F. de, 50-1, 54, 55 Mansart, J. H., 40, 58, 69, 303, 323 Marais, M., 22, 29, 264, 265-6 Marchand, L., 22, 85, 90, 91, 93, 95,
345
Marini,J.-B., 54, 101 Marmontel, J. F., 76, 3i7q. Marot, C, 54
Marpurg, F. W., 284n., 286 Martineiii, V., 99 Marty, G., 338 Masson, P.-M., 13, 7711. Mattheson, J., 236., 281-2 Mauduit, J., 61, 137 Maugars, A., 132, 264 Mayr, W., 279
Mazarin, Cardinal, 39, 55, 68, 133 Medici, Catharine de, 64 Ménestrier, Pere, 102 Méreaux, A., 339
Mersenne, M., 62-3q., I30q., I33q.. 136.
264n.q. Mésangeau, R., 189 Mezzaferratta, 101 Mignard, N., 47 Milan, L., 189
404
index of persons
Moliere, ii, 26, 29, 37-8, 41, 45, 48, 55,
70-1,154 MondonvilleJ.J. C, 103, 274 Monn, G. M., 285 Montaigne, M. de, 41 Montbaron, Comtesse de, 169 Monteclair, M. de, 21, 297 Montespan, Mme de, 324 Monteverdi, C., 62,66, 83,107,146,147,
148
Moreau, J. B., I54n.
Mouret, J. J., 78, 228, 274
Mouton, C., 190,191
Mozart, W. A., 101, 220, 27$, 276
Muftat, Georg, 102, 279-80, 349, 350-55
Mufiät, Gottlieb, 281, 282-4
Nemours, Due de, 65 Nivers, G., 20 Noinville, A. de, 78q. Noverre, J. G., 236q. Nyert, P. de, 132-3,143
Oesterk, 339 Onzembray, L. L., 348
Pascal, B., 41-2, 46 Pascal, J., 133 Peri, J., 62
Perrault, C, 48q., 49q., 57, 28gq. Perrin, P. P., 68q., I38q., 3l7q-. 323 Pescheur, P., 325-7 Peyrot, 337
Philidor, A., 66, 235, 324 Phillips, P., 86n. Pinel, G., 190
Pirro, A., 25, 3o6n., 319, 337 Pope, A., 30, 35, 206, 288 Pouplmiere, le Fache de la, 285, 324 Poussin, N., 26, 29, 37, 54, 74-5q., 8iq., II9n.
Prunieres, R, ii, 64, 65, 66 Purcell, H., 83, 84, 85, 9°. 93. 97. i°7. 109, 125-7, 203, 272, 288, 330
Quantz.J.J., 237,239, 281, 299, 348-9, Quinault, P., 54n., 71, 72
Rabufat, 337
Racine, J., 11, 26, 29, 30, 31, 37-4°. 43. 46, 47, 72, 75, 92, IS4, 177, 206, 211, 214-15, 216, 233, 266, 269, 288
Rambouillet, Mme de, 50, 51, 52, 54
Rameau, J. P., 13, 78, 79. 93. 97q- 163. 273.374-7.288,297,317.324.345. 346
Rameau, P., 2320., 236q., 237
Raugel, F., 325
Ravel, M., 226, 287
Rebel, F., 21
Retz, Cardinal de, 39
Richard, E., 190
Richelieu, Cardinal, 51
Rigaud, H., 47
Rinuccini, O., 65, 66
Roberday, F., 67, 95
Rolland, R., 72
Ronsard, P. de, 62-3, 64
Rosenmüller, J., 101, 278
Rossi, L., 66, 67,69, 132,146,148
Rousseau, J. (author of Traite" de la
Viele), 263-4 Rousseau, J. J., 2ion.q., 236, 237, 239,
240,241,28oq., 295, 305, 306, 317, 318
St Amant, M. A. de, 189
St Evremond, Sieur de, 66, 76, 77q.
St-Lambert, 296, 311-15
St Mard, R. de, 238, 240
St Simon, Due de, 30q., 34q., 34-5, 42,
44*
Sannazar, J., 130
Sauveur, J., 347
Scarlatti, A., 79,142, 288
Scarlatti, D., 79,100, 206, 307, 334, 346
Scarron, P., 51-2, 54, 56
Schaufner, A., 340
Schering, 348
Schütz, H., 147,148
Schweitzer, A., 319
Scudery, Mile de, 30, 5oq., 52q., 56
Segovia, A., 194
Senault.J. F., 43
Sevigni, Mme de, 32-3, 33q-. 35.40.42,
43. 76q., 154. 334 Shaftesbury, Lord, I5q. Shakespeare, 75 Shenstone, I5q. Simpson, C, 264 Siret, 21
Sorel, C, i29-30q. Stamitz, C, 285, 286 Stamitz, J., 285, 286, 324 Sweelinck, J. P., 83, 91
Taskin, A., 25a. Tasso, 130
Telemann, G., 280, 281 Tessier, A., 11, 341 Testelin, L., 75q. Theophile, V., 189 Thierry, P., 325, 326, 327 Thomelin, J., 19, 20
405
Francois
Tiersot, T., II, 26, 337, 341
Tillet, Titon du, 17, 19, 21, 59q., 134,
151, I53n-q-. 341-3 Tilley, A., II
Titelouze, J., 83, 85, 86n., 87-8, 92, 93.
95. 188 Titian, 119 Trichet, P., 264n. Turneil, M., 11, 38
Urbino Vul, Pope, 148 Urft, H. d\ 49
Valery, P., 288 Vallombros£, A. de, 325 Vandöme, Mile, 276 Vatel, 33
Vaudemont, Mme de, Ö4 Vaugelas, Baron de, 51
Couperin: Vauvenargues, Marquis de, 56, 8iq. Vecchi, O., 146 Veronese, 119 Victoria, T. L. de, 61 Vieville, L. de la, 22, 67-8, I03q., i33(
I38q., I40q., I4iq., i5°q-. 3*7 Vigarani, 323 Vifieveuve, A. de la, 276 Villon, F., 54 Vivaldi, A., 102, 28on Voiture, V., 51-3, 54 Voltaire, F. M., 278
Warlock, P., 102
Watteau, J. A., 29, 47-8, 55, 58, 119.
208, 211, 227, 233, 247, 25°. vp-t 274.
280, 284, 287, 324 Weiss, S. L.,{i94 Widor, C, 325
406
General Index
All titles in italics refer to works by Couperin unless otherwise stated.
Academie Baif de Musique et de Poesie, 64
Academie Royale de Musique, 71
accent (ornament), 136, 305, 3o6n.
acciaccatura, 307
Acis et Galalhée (Lully), 76
air a boire, 138
air champétre, 138
air de cour, 21, 63-5, 73, 85, 128 et seq.,
178-9, 190, 194, 211, 243, 272 air de mouvement, 138 air passioné, 138 air sérieux, 133,139, 140,142 air tendre, no, H2, 140, 241, 243 Alberti bass, 277 Alceste (Lully), 73, 76, 269 allemande, 113, 236 Allégresse des vainqucurs, 215 Amadis (Lully), 73, 74 Les Amans Magnifiques (Lully), 70, 71
V Arne en peine, 221, 301, 354 Amoi, tout est perdu, 144
V Amour Médecin (Lully), 70, 71
V Amphibie, 227-8
Ancients and Moderns, quarrel of, 57,
H9n. L'Anguille, 226
VApotheose de Corelli, 103, 118-22, 127,
162, 234, 247, 26Ö, 273, 288, 338 VApothéose de Lully, 103, 118, 122-5,
162, 234, 333, 338 appoggiatura, 106, in, 160, 180, t86,
222, 243, 261. See also Port de voix Ariane abandonee, 21 L'Arlequine, 226 Armide (Lully), 73, 74 L'Art de décrire la danse (Feuillet), 237 Art of Fugue (Bach), 233 L'Art Poétique (Boileau), 56 L'Art de toucher le Clavecin, 23, 217, 291
etseq., 333, 3+5 L'Art de toucher le luth (Basset), 194 VAstree (d'Urfe), 49-5°. 53. i°3.139 Aspiration (ornament), 305, 306-7, 310 L'Atalante, 217
Athalie (Racine), 39-40, 154. 177. 233 Attaignant collection of 1557, 61 Atys (Lully), 73
V Audacieuse, 226 Audite omnes, 172 VAuguste, 26, 209, 317
Bagpipes, 212
ballad opera, 54n.
Ballet d'Alcine (1610), 65
ballet de cour, 65 et seq.
ballet mélodramatique, 65, 129
Ballet des Muses (Lully), 70
Ballet de la Nuit (Lully), 69
Ballo delle Ingrate (Monteverdi), 66
La Bandoline, 208
Les Barkades Mistérieuses, 212
batteries, 306
Le Bavolet Flotant, 215, 220, 233
Les Bergeries, 211, 220, 3o6n.
Binary principle in dance movements,
206, 241
Le Bourgeois Gentilhomme (Lully), 70, 71 bourrée, 240, 242
Bowing in French classical music, 350-1 Brahms-Chrysander edition (of Coup-
erin's clavecin pieces), 339 brunete, 112, 128, 138, 140-1, 158, 186,
207, 215, 245, 254 Brunete, 142, 222 burlesque (literature), 54-5 burlesque (in music), 125, 223, 226-7
Cadence (rubato), 294-5 cadence (ornament), 136 Cadmus et Hermione (Lully), 71 Les Calotins et les Calotines, 223 canaris, 240
Caracthes (La Bruyére), 31 Le Carillon de Cithére, 222 Cartesianism, 40, 56-7 catch (English), 140 cavaliěre, ä la, 140
chaconne, 70,115, 202 (Louis Couperin),
206, 238-9, 242 chaconne a deux tems, 210 chaconne-rondeau, 206 chanson i boire, 128, 139-40,144 chanson a danser, 138 chant religieux, 137
407
Francois
La Chapelle Royale (music in), 323 Les Charmes, 215
Les Charmes de la Vie (Watteau), 270
Chaume, 17
La Chemise Blanche, 269
Lei Chérubins, 224
Les Chinois, 232, 301
chromaticism, 68, 69, 84-91, 93, 97,104,
118, 147-8, 180-2, 190, 228 chromhorne (organ stop), 327 drei (ballet comique), 64 Civil War (English), 188, 194, 264 Classical antiquity, cult of, 58 clavecin style, 194-5
clavecin, technique of instrument, 293-4 Clavierstäcke (Marpurg), 286 II Combattimcnto di Tancredi (Monteverdi), 146
Commedia dell' Arte, 54-5, 205, 226, 227, 231
Concentusmusico-instmmentalis<JFux),i2sa. concerts du dimanche, 21 Concerts royaux (general), 112,234 tt seq., 335, 339
no. i, 242-3; no. 2, 243-4; no. 3, 245-7; no. 4,247-50; no. 250-1; no. 6, 251-2; no. 7, 252-4; no. 8, dans le goút théatral, 254-5; no. 9, Ritratto dell'Amore, 255-7; no. 10, 257-9; no. 11,259-60; no. 12, 260-1; no. 13, 261; no. 14,261-3 Concerts spirituels, 324 continuo, 3"-l6, 337. 338, 339 contredanse, 240 La Convalescence, 230, 232, 288 Conversations   Galantes   et Amüsantes
(Guillemain), 274 La Coribante, 217
couler, coulement, 297, 337, 353, 354 counter-tenor, 330 La Couperin, 225 couplets (in organ Masses), 86 courante, French and Italian, 113 d seq., 237
La Crouilli, 225, 341 Crouilly, 19, 341
Crucifixus (Bach, B minor Mass), 85,320 Les Culbutes Jacobines, 223 Les Cyclopes (Rameau), 274
Da capo form, 101
dance music, French, 60-1, 66
dance suite, 112 et seq., 235 et seq.
La Dauphine (Du Phly), 274
Defense de h Basse Viole (Le Blanc), 163
Les ľ>&ices, 212
Couperin
detacher detachement, 299, 352-3 Dialogus inter Deum et hominem, 176-7 Dido's lament (Purcell), 107 Dies Irae (Lully), 154 diminutions, 352, 354 diminished seventh, i84n., 203 dissonance, 90-2, 198, 199, 227, 231, 248 La Distraite, 223 divertissement, 77 et seq., 228 Le Dodo, 222, 231
double (variation technique), 134 et seq.
Double (ornament), 304-5
La Douce, 222
La Douce Janneton, 225
Doux liens, 142
La Du Dmmmond (Du Phly), 277 Duo (Louis Couperin), 202 dynamics in Couperin's music, 336
Egisto (Cavalli), 69 elevations, 169-72, 180 emblem and analogy in baroque art, 319-320
Encyclopaedists, 318-319 L'Enharmonique (Rameau), 276 entrees de ruth, 65 L'Epineuse, 231 Epitaphe d'un Paresseux, 144 L'Ercole Amante (Cavalli), 68-9 L'Espagnole, 103,106-7 Essay of Musical Expression (Avison), 235, 3i8
Esther (Raane), 92, I54n. exclamation (ornament), 352-4 expression in baroque music, 316-21 L'Exquise, 232, 301
False relation, 84, 97, 179, 194, 201
fantasia (for strings), 84
Les Pastes de la Grande et Anaenne
Minestrandiu, 26, 216-17 Les Fauvites Plaintives, 222 La Favorite, 210, 217, 288, 329 fetes champetres, 26,247 feres nautiques, 323 Fltes Venitiennes (Campra), 77n fingering (of keyboard music), 308-10, .345-<S
Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, 345 La Fleurie ou la tendre Nanette, 207 flexion de voix, 136 La Flore, 208 La Florentine, 207 Florilegia (Muffat), 279 folk song and popular music, 141, 208, 211, 216-17, 222, 223, 240
408
General Index
La Folia (Marais), 265 La Folies Francoises, 221, 300-1 forlane, 240 Forlane, 249 Francion (Sorel), 129 La Francoise, 103, 104, 117, 119, 120 French influence in Belgium, 277-8 French influence in Germany, I25n., 278-86
French influence in Italy, 278 Fronde, 43, 53 Le Gaillard-Boiteux, 223 La Gamier, 208, 334 gavotte, 239i 240
Gavotte with variations (Rameau) 274 George Dandin (Lully), 70 gigue, 240
Gigue bruscambille (Chambonnieres), 198 Gilles, portrait of (Watteau), 227 Goldberg Variations (Bach), 114, 211,
221, 229, 238
Le Goüt, 295. 296, 300, 301, 303; 307, 313. 315
Le Gout francais, 112 et seq., 128, 234 et seq., 293
Le Goüt itaüen, 97 et seq., 234, 293
Les Goüts Riünis, 23, 234, 250, 273, 339
Grande    Dictionnaire    des Pritieuses
(Somaize), 53 La Grotte de Versailles (Lully), 70,71 Les Guirlandes, 228 La de Guign (Du Phly), 277
Hammerciavier sonata (Beethoven), 233 La Hardiesse (Muffat), 283 Harlequin, 55, 227, 233, 287, 3*0, 333 Harmonie Universelle (Mersenne), 62 La Harpie, 225 harpsichord. See clavecin V Hirnen-Amour, 223
Les Idies Heureuses, 208
L'Impiriale, 102, 103, 115-18, 125, 127,
204, 244, 266, 273, 288, 337 Impressionism in Couperin's music, 208,
222, 228
Les Indes Galantes (Rameau), 297 instrumentation in Couperin's music,
234-5 Les Invalides, 217 involution (ornament), 352-4 Isis (Lully), 73 Italy, renaissance in, 59,60
Jansenism, 40-1 Jephtha (Carissimi), 149
Les Jeunes Seigneurs, 228
Les Jongleurs et les Sauteurs, 217
Le Journal de Printemps (Fischer), 279
Lajulliet, 335
Jupiter symphony (Mozart), 233
Kcmmelodische Wissenschaft (Mattheson), 281
La Laborieuse, 210
Les Longueurs Tendres, 207, 211, 354
Laudite Pueri Dominum, 155-7
Lecons des Tenibres (general), 23, 145.
177, 222, 234, 288, 315, 329, 330-1,
354-5
no. I, 177-81; no. 2, 181-3; no. 3. 183-7
Lettre Familiari e critiche (Martinelli), 99
Lettres Provinciates (Pascal), 42
Les Lis Naissans, 220
Un Livre de Libertis (De Rosters), 139
La Logiviere, 210
loure, 240
lourer, 29a, 299
La Loureuse (Chambonnieres), 199
La Lugubre, 209, 333
lutenists, 13, 65, 92,151,188 et seq., 218,
238, 307 lute technique, 193-4, 305 lyra da braccia, 61
Maelzel's metronome, 348 Magnificat, 173-4 Magnificat (Monteverdi), 146 Le Mattre ä danser (P. Rameau), 232n.. 237
La Majestueuse, 26, 209, 317 Marly, 46
La Marche des Gris-vitus, 26 Le Mariage Ford (Lully), 70,71 marteler, 296
mascarades ä grand spectacle, 60
mascarades de palais, 60,64
Mass in B minor (Bach), 233
Maximes (La Rochefoucauld), 31
La Minetou, 212
Midie (Charpentier), 150
Messes for organ, authorship of, 341-3
Messe pour les convents, 83 et seq., 125,162,
165, 166, 168, 197, 272, 328, 337 Messe a Vusage des paroisses, 83 et seq., 272,
328,337 mesure, 294-5 La Mizangire, 216 rnignardise, 131 La Milordine, 207
409
Francois Couperin
minuet, 241
Le Misanthrope (Moliěre), 37, 45, 154 La Mistérieuse, 229 Les Moissonneurs, 26, 212, 319 Monsieur de Pourceaugnac (Lully), 70, 71 mordent. See pince Motet pour lejour de Päques, 172-3 Motet de St Anne, 174 Motet de St Augustin, 175-6 Motet de St Barthélemy, 174 Motet de Ste Suzanne, 165-9, 172, 331, 332
Le Moucheron, 212, 310 mouvement, 294
mouvement decide et marqué, 299
La Muse Plantine, 224
musette, 241
Muséte (air), 143
Musétes (clavecin pieces), 222
La Muséte de Choisy, 26
musical portraiture in Couperin, 316 et seq.
Musique pour les Soupers du Roi (La
Lande), 75, 279 Musique de table (Telemann), 280
Nachschlag, 306
Les Nations, 23, 103, 263, 337
Nature (in English Augustan society), 30
Nazard (organ stop), 327
Neapolitan sixth, 232, 258, 283, 285
Les Niais de Sologne (Rameau), 274
notes égales, 299
notes inegales, 295-301, 331
Notenbuch (Bach), 306n.
O Amor, O Gaudium, 170
O Domine quia refugium, 174
Oiseau Lyre edition, 337, 338, 339, 340
O Jesu Amantissime, 171
O Misterium Ineffabile, 169-70
Les Ombres Errantes, 229
opera (classical French), 71-9
Orfeo (Monteverdi), 62
Orfeo (Rossi), 68
organ style compared with clavecin
style, 95-96 organ, technique of, 372 et seq. ornamentation, 134 er seq. (air de cour);
194 (lute); 211 (clavecin); 303 et seq.,
314.352-5 overture (Lullian), 70, 228, 279
La Pantomime, 231
Paris, 47, 58
partita, 99 (Bach), 113
Partita in E minor (Bach), 114
passacaille (general), 239
La Passacaille (clavecin), 211,213-15,221] 224, 227, 229, 233, 266, 288, 310, 33JS 334 !
Passacaille (viols), 268 <
Passacailles (Louis Couperin), 203-4 !
passepied, 242 !
passer, 296 i
pastoral convention in Couperin's music, 207-8.   See also brunete.
La Pastourelle, 143
La Pateline, 207
Les Pavots, 232, 301
Les Pellerines, 143,144.
Pensées (Pascal), 42
Persee (Lully), 73
La Personne Galante (Monn), 285
pétillement (ornament), 352-4
Les Petits Ages, 212
Les Petits Moulins d Vent, 223
La Petite Pince-sans-rire, 225
Le Petit Rien, 222
Les Petits Violons du Roi, 68, 70, 322 Phaéton (Lully), 54n., 73 Phédre (Racine), 39, 154, 215 phrasing in Couperin's music, 308-10,1 332, 336
piano, use of, in continuo parts, 332 La Piemontoise, 103, 107-9. pince, 265, 301-2, 353, 354 piquer, 296 plainte, 136 Pléíade, 62 pointer, 296
Polyeucte (Corneille), 154 polyphony and homophony in Coup-j
erin's music, 206-7 Pompe Funébre, 269 popular music, influence of, 216-17, 221; Port Royal, 42, 151
port de voix, 135, 178, 183, 265, 301-2,; 352-5
La Poule (Rameau), 275 Poussinists and Rubenists, H9n. pralltriller, 136
preciosita, 53-4, 55, 67, 128 er seq., 1 Les Précieuses Ridicules (Moliěre), 53 Prefaces to Couperin's works, 291 et seq., prelude (lute), 194 f prelude (clavecin), 218, 235 * Preludes from L'Art de toucher le clavccbi^
217-20 I Premieres Observations (Muffat), 349-55 3 preoccupation, 352, 353, 354 J La Princesse de Cleves (Mme de li
Fayette), 11, 45-6
4IO
General Index
La Princesse d'Elide (Lully), 70, 71, 323 La Princesse Marie, 224 Les Promenades de Bierbieck ou de Buerbück (Fiocco), 278 Proserpine (Lully), 73 Psychi (Lully), 71 La Pucellc, 103
Quatre Versets d'm Motet, IS7-60, 314 quinte (organ stop), 327 Qui regis Israel, 163-5 Qu'on ne me disc plus, 142
La Rafraichissante, 215 la raison, 30
Rambouillet, Hotel de, 31, 50-2, 195 La Raphaele, 213
Le Rappel des Oiseaux (Rameau), 274 Rappresentazione di animo e di corpo
(Cavalieri), 148 Reason in Augustan society, 30 recitative in church music, 331 Rißexions sur la musique (Brijon), 319 Rtgles pour I'accompagnement, 291 La Rtgente, 222 registration (clavecin), 334 registration (organ), 328 La Reine des Coeurs, 225 Remarques sur la langue frattcaise (Vaugelas),
Si
Le Reniement de St Pierre (Charpentier), 1JI
Requiem (Faure), 169 Le Rtveil-Matin, 286 La Rhdtorique  des  Dieux (Gaultier), 190
rhythmic ambiguity in courantes, 113
rhythm, inequalities in, 294 et seq.
rigaudon,239-40
Le Roi Malgri Lui (Chabrier), 71
Roland (Lully), 73, 74
rondeau, 70, 114, 206, 241-2
Les Roseaux, 220
Le Rossignol en Amour, 222, 33s
St Gervais, 18, 22, 25, 83, 325 et seq.
(organ) St Mark's, Venice, 148 St Omer, 86n. Saillie, 125, 232, 301 sarabande grave, 114, 237-8 sarabande tendre, 114, 237-8 Les Satires, 227
scenes de sommeil, 74,122,162, 165 scherzo (symphonic), 242 La\S(duisante, 215
Sept Versets du Psaume Benedixisti Domine,
160-3 Serse (Cavalli), 68 sicilienne, 240 Sicilienne, 22on. Le Sicilien (Lully), 70, 71 Les Solitaires, 143
sonata da camera and sonata da chiesa,
97 et seq., 113, 169, 235, 337 La Steinquerque, 104, 112, 118, 119, 122,
337
Suites for viols, 222,263-9,339 suite. See dance suite and partita La Sultane, 109-11,112,119, 332 La Superbe, 109,111-12,119 La Superbe (clavecin piece), 223 suspension (ornament), 306-7, 310 Symphonies des Noěls (La Lande), 75
Tambourins, 240
Les Tambourins, 224
teaching method, Couperin on, 291-2
TeDeum (Lully), 154
tempo in French classical music, 294,
347-9 La Tendre Franfon, 208 Les Tendres Plaintes (Rameau), 274 La Ténébreuse, 209 Thésée (Lully), 71, 73 Thirty Years' War, 278 Le Tic-Toc-Choc, 223 tierce (organ stop), 328 Tierces coulees, 305 Les Timbres, 223 tirade (ornament), 352 tombeau convention, 164, 191,193, 196,
200, 209, 269 Tombeau de M. de Blancrocher (Louis
Couperin), 200, 219, 279 ton de la chevre, 191, 200,205 To the World, a Farewell (Jonson), 287 tournoyant (ornament), 352, 354 Tratte de I'accompagnement (Boyvin), 311 Traité de I'accompagnement (St Lambert),
Traité de la musique (Doni), 133 Traité des Passions de 1'áme (Descartes), 41
tremblement, 135, 178, 265, 304-5» 307.
332, 352-4 trillo, 3o6n.
trio sonata. See sonata and partita La Triomphante (Rameau), 274 Trois Vestales et trois Policons, 144 troubadours, 196 Typhon (Scarron), 54
4II
Francois
V Unique, 213
vaudeville, 65, 8j, 128,139,140, 251 Vaudeville, 143
Venite exultemus Domino, 171-2
Venetian painters, 119
ver cass£ (vibrato), 194
Lei Vergers Fleuris, 222, 228, 319, 334
La Vemtville, 223
Versailles, 21, 28-9, 33, 43, 46, 48, 58,
322 et seq., 329 Versuch einer Anweisung die Flöte traviete
zu spielen (Qnantz), 348
C0UPERIN
Vespers (Monteverdi), 146
Les Vestales, 223
La Victoire (Du Phly), 277
Les Viéleux et les Gueux, 217
Les Vieux Seigneurs, 228
La de Villeneuve (Du Phly), 277
vihuela, 189
viol, technique of, 264-5, 335 violin, 61-2, 99 (Corelli) Les Vingt-quatre Violons du Roi, 67,322 La Visionnaire (violin sonata), 103 La Visionnaire (clavecin piece), 228
412