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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

Frontispiece: Antoine Watteau, Two Studies of a Violinist Tuning His Instrument (1717/1718), drawing in black and red chalk, 30 cm x 21.3 cm. Image courtesy of National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC.

Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

Mary Cyr University of Guelph, Canada

© Mary Cyr 2012 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher. Mary Cyr has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work. Published by Ashgate Publishing Limited Ashgate Publishing Company Wey Court East Suite 420 Union Road 101 Cherry Street Farnham Burlington VT 05401-4405 Surrey, GU9 7PT England USA www.ashgate.com British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data Cyr, Mary. Style and performance for bowed string instruments in French Baroque music. 1. Bowed stringed instruments–Performance–France–History–17th century. 2. Bowed stringed instruments–Performance–France–History–18th century. 3. Stringed instrument music–Interpretation (Phrasing, dynamics, etc.) 4. Music–France–17th century–History and criticism. 5. Music–France–18th century–History and criticism. I. Title 787.1’43’0944-dc23 Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Cyr, Mary. Style and performance for bowed string instruments in French baroque music / Mary Cyr. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 978-1-4094-0569-6 (hardcover : alk. paper) 1. Performance practice (Music)– France–History–17th century. 2. Performance practice (Music)–France–History–18th century. 3. Bowed stringed instruments–Performance–France–History–17th century. 4. Bowed stringed instruments–Performance–France–History–18th century. I. Title. ML497.2C97 2012 787’.1430944–dc23 2011035399 ISBN 9781409405696 (hbk) ISBN 9781409442349 (ebk) Bach musicological font developed V by © Yo Tomita.

Contents List of Figures  List of Music Examples  Abbreviations   Preface   Acknowledgements  

ix xi xv xix xxiii

Part I: Sources and Style in French Baroque Music 1

Historical Context, Musical Works, and Performance  

3

Introduction3 Playing from Facsimiles 5 The Text and What It Represents 7 Secondary Sources on Baroque Performance Practice 9 The Historical Context for Studying French Baroque Music 9 Performance Practice Issues Specific to French Baroque Music 11 Style in French Baroque Music for Bowed String Instruments  13 2

French and Italian Musical Style: The Great Divide  

15

François Raguenet (1702) on French and Italian Musical Style Charles de Brosses’s Observations on Italian Music (1739–1740) Ancelet’s Observations (1757) on Instrumental Music Concluding Remarks

17 21 23 26

Part II: Bowed String Instruments in French Ensembles 3

4

Strings in French Ensembles  

31

Viols and Violins in Seventeenth-Century France The Inner Parts (parties de remplissage) in French String Ensembles The petit choeur and grand choeur in French Ensembles

33 38 42

Bass Instruments of the Violin and Viol Families in Solo and Ensemble Roles  

45

The basse de violon The Viols

45 47

vi

Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

The contrebasse Concluding Remarks

53 60

Part III: Interpretation and Style in French Music for String Players 5

6

Articulation  

65

Georg Muffat and French Orchestral Practice Bowing for Solo Playing Violoncello Bowing for Solo and Ensemble Playing Chamber Music Bowing in Combinations with Violins and Viols 

67 74 79 80

Tempo, Character, and Inequality  

85

Tempo and Character 85 Inequality93 7

8

Ornamentation and Special Effects  

107

French Ornament Signs and Their Interpretation Special Effects

107 116

Basse Continue, Pitch, and Temperament  

133

Realizing the basse continue When Not to Play: Silencing the basse continue Baroque and French Pitches: Where is the A? Using Historical Temperaments

133 137 139 143

Part IV: Composer Profiles 9

10

Marin Marais: Viol Player, Composer, and Teacher extraordinaire 147 Marais’s Life and Career Sources of Marais’s Music Marais’s Music as Interpreted by an Eighteenth-Century Viol Player Concluding Remarks

148 151 167 169

Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre’s Violin Sonatas: What the Sources Do (and Do Not) Tell Us  

171

Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre: a Brief Biography Jacquet de La Guerre’s Association with Sébastien de Brossard

172 174

Contents

vii

Sources for Jacquet de La Guerre’s Sonatas Performing Jacquet de La Guerre’s Sonatas Concluding Remarks

175 180 185

Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Virtuoso French Cellist and Composer  

187

The Cello and Cellists in Early Eighteenth-Century France Jean-Baptiste Barrière: a Short Biography Barrière’s Cello Music Barrière’s Music for pardessus de viole and Harpsichord Concluding Remarks

188 190 191 197 200

12 Forqueray’s Pieces de viole avec la Basse Continuë: Authorship and Performance Issues  

203

11

Antoine Forqueray le père: a Brief Biography Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, le fils: a Brief Biography Musical Tributes to the Forquerays Forqueray’s Dedicatees Which Forqueray? Performance Issues in the Viol Music Concluding Remarks Bibliography   Index  

205 207 209 211 212 215 225 227 251

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List of Figures Frontispiece: Antoine Watteau, Two Studies of a Violinist Tuning His Instrument (1717/1718), drawing in black and red chalk, 30 cm x 21.3 cm. Image courtesy of National Gallery of Art, Washington, DC.   3.1 3.2 4.1 4.2

ii

Nicolas Arnoult, Joueur de violon chez le Roy, engraving, late seventeenth century, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris   36 Nicolas Arnoult, Fille de qualité aprenant [sic] a danser, engraving, late seventeenth century, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris   37 Nicolas Bonnart (c. 1637–1718), Dame qui jouë de la viole en chantant, engraving, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris   Marin Marais, Alcione, tragédie mise en musique (Paris: author, 1706), Act IV, scene 4, reduced score, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris  

52 56

5.1

Jean-Baptiste Pater, Seated Violinist, drawing in red chalk, 16.5cm × 26cm (1710–1736). © Trustees of the British Museum, London   69

6.1

Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, La Léon from Pieces de viole (Paris, 1747) for viol and basse continue. Reproduced with the permission of the British Library Board. All rights reserved.

7.1 7.2

9.1 9.2

Marin Marais, Sémélé, tragédie mise en musique (Paris, 1709), Act V, scene 3, reduced score, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris Jean-Marie Leclair l’aîné, Allegro (first movement) from Sonata 6, Quatrieme livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. IX (Paris, [1743]). Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Editions, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited   Marin Marais, Sarabande in F major for (unaccompanied?) viol. Source: Mus. MS A. 27, Durham Cathedral. By kind permission of Durham Cathedral   Marin Marais, Chaconne en rondeau from Book 2 (1701), for viol and basse continue. Source: Copy with manuscript annotations, by kind permission of the Sibley Music Library, Eastman School of Music, University of Rochester, New York

91 120

125

166

168

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

11.1 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Allegro (second movement) from Sonata 2 in D major (Book 6), for harpsichord, from Sonates et pieces pour le clavecin … livre IV (Paris: author, n.d.). Source: Performers’ Facsimile 232 (New York: Broude Brothers, 1999). Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Editions, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited   12.1 Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, Pieces de viole avec la Basse Continuë (Paris, [1747], title page. Reproduced with the permission of the British Library Board. All rights reserved   12.2 Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, from the second couplet of La Tronchin, IIIe Suite, (a) version for viol and basse continue, from Pieces de viole, [1747], and (b) harpsichord transcription, from Pieces de viole … Mises en Pieces de clavecin [1747]. Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Facsimiles, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited   12.3 Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, Sarabande: La D’aubonne, IVe Suite (Pieces de viole, [1747]). Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Facsimiles, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited   12.4 Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, La Rameau (Ve Suite), from Pieces de viole, [1747]. Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Facsimiles, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited  

199

204

218

219

220

List of Music Examples 4.1

André Campra, air from Idoménée, tragédie mise en musique (1712) Act II, scene 8, reduced score with added contrebasse part60

5.1

(a) and (b) Georg Muffat, Florilegium Secundum (1698), bowing rules as practiced by Lully 70 Jean-Baptiste Lully, Premier air from Les festes de l’Amour et de Bacchus (1672). Source: Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. F-1703, fols 25’–26 71 Michel Corrette, L’Ecole d’Orphée (1738), bowing in the Italian style on the violin 72 Jean Rousseau, Traité de la viole (1687), rules on bowing for the viol75 Demachy, Menuet in D minor for solo (unaccompanied viol) from Pieces de violles (1685)77 Marin Marais, Prelude in A minor (Pièces de violes, troisième livre, 1711), for viol and basse continue 78 Joseph Bodin de Boismortier, “Coule dans nos veines,” air from the cantata L’Automne (1724) 82

5.2 5.3 5.4 5.5 5.6 5.7 6.1 6.2 6.3 6.4 6.5

7.1 7.2

Joseph Bodin de Boismortier, Gavotte in G major from Trente et un.e œuvre … contenant diverses pieces de viole avec la Baße chifrée (Paris, 1730) 101 Jean-Baptiste Morin, “Que vos yeux sont charmans!” from the cantata La naufrage d’Ulisse (1712)102 Louis de Caix d’Hervelois, Sarabande in G minor from Troisiéme œuvre … contenant quatre suites de pieces pour la viole, avec la baße chifrée (Paris, 1731) 103 Jean-Baptiste Morin, “Ouvrez vos sombres precipices,” air from the cantata Dom Quixotte (1712) 103 (a) Jean-Baptiste Morin, beginning of the final air in the cantata, Dom Quixotte; (b) Middle section of the final air (at the words, “Déja mon Ombre est poursuivie”) 105 Demachy, Prelude in D minor for solo (unaccompanied) viol, Pieces de violle (1685)108 Louis de Caix d’Hervelois, Prélude in D major for solo viol and basse continue, from Troisiéme œuvre … contenant quatre suites de pieces pour la viole avec la baße chifrée (Paris, 1731) 110

xii

7.3 7.4 7.5 7.6 7.7 7.8 7.9

9.1

9.2

9.3

Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

Jean-Marie Leclair, Aria from Sonata 1 in A minor for solo violin and basse continue, from Premier livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue (1723)111 Prelude in G minor for viol and basse continue, from Pièces de violes, troisième livre (Paris, 1711)  114 Marin Marais, Tombeau pour Mons.r de Lully for viol and basse continue, from Pièces de violes, second livre (Paris, 1701) 115 Jean-Féry Rebel, Le père, Les élémens, suite for strings, flutes (recorders), and harpsichord 122 Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville, Sonata 4 (first movement), for violin and basse continue, from Les sons harmoniques, sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. 4.e (Paris and Lille, [1738]) 126 François Martin, first movement (Allegro) from Sonata 4, for cello and basse continue, from Six sonates pour le violonchelle (1746)128 Jean-Marie Leclair, Allegro (second movement) from the Sonata in B minor, for violin and basse continue, from Premier livre de sonatas (1723) 129 Marin Marais, Tombeau de Mr Meliton (Book I, 1686/1689) for two solo viols and basse continue. Source: Marin Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 1, ed. John Hsu (New York: Broude Brothers Limited, 1980). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions 152 Marin Marais, Le tableau de l’operation de la taille (Book 5, 1725) for viol and basse continue. Source: Marin Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 5, ed. John Hsu (New York: The Broude Trust, 2000). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions 156 Marin Marais, transcription of Sarabande in F major. Source: Mus. MS A. 27, Durham Cathedral. By kind permission of Durham Cathedral166

10.1 Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, Sonata IIa in A minor for violin and basse continue. Source: Elisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2: Instrumental Works, ed. Mary Cyr (New York: The Broude Trust, 2008). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions 10.2 Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, Aria for violin and basse continue, (a) early version from Sonata Ia in A minor; (b) revised version from Sonata 5 in A minor (1707). Source: Élisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2 ed. Mary Cyr (New York: The Broude Trust, 2008). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions

176

179

List of Music Examples

10.3 Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, La Flamande, allemande from the suite in D minor from Pièces de clavecin qui peuvent se joüer sur le viollon (1707), with added violin part 11.1 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Adagio (third movement) from Sonata 3 (Book 1, [1733]), for cello and basse continue 11.2 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Adagio (third movement) from Sonata 2 (Book 1, [1733]), for cello and basse continue 11.3 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Allegro (third movement) from Sonata 6 (Book 4, n.d.), for cello and basse continue 11.4 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Allegro (second movement) from Sonata 2 in D major (Book 5, n.d.), for pardessus de viole and basse continue

xiii

184 193 194 196 199

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Abbreviations art. comp. JVdGSA para. PRMA R Rés. SIM SIMG

article compiler Journal of the Viola da Gamba Society of America paragraph Proceedings of the Royal Musical Association reprint Réserve Société internationale de musicologie Sammelbände der Internationalen Musik-Gesellschaft

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Pitch is indicated according to the following conventions:

Using these abbreviations, the normal tuning of the violin (from lowest to highest string) would be written as g–d′–a′–e″, and the tuning of the modern cello would be C–G–d–a. The seven-string basse de viole is tuned A′–D–G–c–e–a–d′.

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Preface The period covered by this book, approximately 1680 to 1760, represents a time during which French artists, writers, and composers created works of great beauty and meaning. French singers, instrumentalists, and instrument builders ranked at the top of their fields and were regarded by many observers as without equal in the world. Within this time frame, the viol, violin, and cello also acquired new responsibilities as solo instruments in France, and music engraving and publishing flourished, making possible the circulation of an unprecedented number of collections of solo and ensemble music for string instruments. Although there were many circumstances that produced outstanding musical achievements in France during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, there were also remarkable musical achievements in other parts of Europe from Henry Purcell, Dieterich Buxtehude, Antonio Vivaldi, George Frideric Handel, Johann Sebastian Bach, and many other outstanding composers. With so many towering figures and such exceptionally fine music available to us, it seems hardly surprising that French composers have received less attention than many of their contemporaries. As historically informed listening and performance have become the objective for more players today than ever before, it appears that the time is right for us to study each repertoire for its unique and distinctive characteristics. French music is certainly one of these repertoires that deserves our attention. French Baroque music is distinctive to early music listeners, who appreciate its special timbres, formal design, ornamentation, and unusual combinations of voices, strings, woodwinds, and keyboard instruments. At the same time, listeners may not necessarily be aware that many of the characteristics that contribute to the uniqueness of French music were not always indicated in the music itself. Rather, many of these features were cultivated and preserved as conventions that were widely known and practiced. Knowing how such conventions developed and were applied in performing situations offers an enriched experience today for modern performers, because it expands the boundaries of our interpretation and communication of musical meaning. The premise of this book is that we can explore the performance of French Baroque music through its written and unwritten conventions from the vantage point of the string players who composed and performed it. During the period 1680 to 1760, string playing was at first largely dominated by viols, but gradually after 1700 the violin family grew in popularity and finally came to dominate the musical scene after the middle of the century. Both viol- and violin-family instruments participated in chamber music and stage works during this period, but emerging solo styles of playing also influenced the way string technique developed. Studying French music for viols, violins, and cellos using historically

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

informed performance as our objective is a way of broadening our interpretive skills and understanding what composers tried to communicate in their music. Ultimately, such study brings us closer to discovering what we enjoy most about French Baroque music. In Part I, a brief introduction establishes the context for studying French music and defines the common characteristics and special features of music written by French composers during the Baroque era. It also sets the focus for the present study on the period 1680 to 1760, the period during which the viol, violin, and cello developed as solo instruments in France and when significant amounts of solo music were published for these instruments. Against the historical background of French and Italian taste in music that was much debated at the time, modern interest in historical performance practice is examined with a view to understanding its goals and achievements thus far. The similarities and differences between the views of French eighteenth-century writers form a context for modern players and scholars to develop a broad view of what is meant by French style (le goût françois) and to articulate some of the features that lie at its core. These observations can contribute in a very positive way to our understanding of performance practice and French music. In Part II, the two important families of bowed string instruments are investigated individually in order to outline the extent of their responsibilities and contribution to musical performances. Included in this discussion are specific conventions that apply to French music, such as the way that several sizes of violas were used for the inner parts of ensembles, how and when the contrebasse functioned as a foundation instrument, and the size and distribution of viol and violin sections within various types of ensembles. Part III is devoted to some of the issues that arise in performing French Baroque music, including both written and unwritten conventions of notation, especially as they apply to string playing. In Part IV, I investigate the contributions of four French Baroque composers to the solo literature for the viol, violin, and cello. These four individuals—Marin Marais, Élisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre, Jean-Baptiste Barrière, and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray—were all active in the period between 1680 and 1760, and their music for violin and viol holds special importance today. Studying a single composer’s works and the interpretive questions they raise yields an understanding of French musical conventions not otherwise apparent when viewing historical practices in the traditional chronological manner. This approach is useful especially when the sources of a given composer’s works prove challenging in one way or another, and also when composers employed musical notation in idiosyncratic ways. Among the four French composers profiled here are two virtuoso performers on the viol who also composed and published solo music for their instrument (Marais and Forqueray), a harpsichordist who was among the first to compose sonatas for the violin (Jacquet de La Guerre), and one of the first virtuoso performers and composers for the cello (Barrière). Each of these individuals contributed significantly to the development of the solo repertoire for bowed string instruments and was an outstanding performer.

Preface

xxi

In pursuing historically informed ways of performing early music, we find ourselves asking not only questions traditionally associated with historical investigation—who, what, when, where, and why—but also another significant question: “How did they do that?” It is a question that has held great interest for me, and I hope that readers of this book will find it equally fascinating. Mary Cyr March, 2012

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Acknowledgements During the preparation of this book, I have been fortunate to receive assistance from many individuals who willingly shared their expertise with me. They not only helped by answering puzzling questions and supplying missing pieces of information, but they also generously offered encouragement and advice. I acknowledge with gratitude the kind assistance of Ellen S. Beebe, Ronald Broude, Tina Chancey, Stuart Cheney, Bruce Gustafson, Sandra Mangsen, Adrian Rose, Graham Sadler, Richard Semmens, and Jeffrey L. Stokes. Special thanks must go to Ronald Broude, who read a draft of the composer profile on Marin Marais and offered many thoughtful comments and suggestions. I also wish to express my gratitude to librarians and staff who were able to facilitate my research. Richard Excell, Rare Music Cataloguer at the University of Melbourne, generously contributed comments about items in the Hanson-Dyer Collection at the University of Melbourne and their relationship to Philidor, Marais, and Forqueray. David Peter Coppen, Special Collections Librarian and Archivist at the Sibley Music Library, Eastman School of Music (University of Rochester), assisted me in several ways and facilitated my consultation of an important Marais item at the Sibley Music Library. I also thank the many individuals who facilitated my research in Paris (Bibliothèque nationale de France, the Bibliothèque de l’Arsénal, and the Bibliothèque de l’Opéra), London (the British Library), and Washington, DC (the Library of Congress). Research librarians also responded in efficient and helpful ways from Yale University, the University of North Carolina (Greensboro), McMaster University, the University of Western Ontario, and the University of Guelph. I am grateful to the libraries and museums who granted permission to reproduce pages from items in their collections and to The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions, whose permission to include passages from scholarly editions as musical examples is much appreciated. My work has also been facilitated by the guidance and helpful suggestions of several individuals at Ashgate Publishing. Heidi Bishop offered wise suggestions and guidance during the early stages of the book’s preparation, and Laura Macy oversaw the later stages of production with great care. Lianne Sherlock also provided valuable editorial support to me, and Sara Peacock completed the task of proofreading with expertise and insight. Wendy Gillespie (Indiana University) and an anonymous reader for Ashgate kindly offered many useful suggestions for the chapter on articulation and the composer profile on the Forquerays. To all of these individuals, I express my sincere gratitude for their contributions. Unless otherwise indicated, all translations of French passages are my own. Old French spelling, capitalization, and accents have been retained.

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Part I Sources and Style in French Baroque Music

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Chapter 1

Historical Context, Musical Works, and Performance Introduction Music of the past occupies a central place in today’s classical concert repertoire. With so many recordings and concert performances of early music on offer today, listeners may find it surprising to learn that the quest to discover how early music was performed at the time it was written is a relatively recent phenomenon. Such investigations form the core of the field of performance practice, whose origins can be traced to the early years of the twentieth century. Early efforts at reviving music of the past concentrated on investigations into the construction and use of early instruments, as well as editing and publishing early music. Significant interest on the part of scholars, performers, and listeners in music of the past has contributed in a very positive way to the expansion of the field of performance practice since the middle of the twentieth century. Today the study of performance practice encompasses a variety of different approaches, all of which are primarily concerned with the application of historically informed ways of performing music of the past.1 Such investigations have as their goal a desire to bring performers and listeners closer to understanding and interpreting music of the past and to applying our instinct and musical judgment in ways that help us to discover how early composers intended their music to sound. Interest in performing on early instruments has fostered closer relationships between scholars and performers, leading to an exchange of research results that benefit both groups. Areas that have seen fruitful collaboration include, for example, iconography (the study of visual depictions of music-making and musical instruments), instrument construction and restoration, and the study of specific techniques associated with playing and singing early music. The objectives for the study of performance practice have changed significantly since the mid-twentieth century. A particularly controversial discussion took place around the notion of authenticity and the extent to which it ought to be seen as a 1   For a representative selection of both general and specific studies on performance practice from the medieval period to the early twentieth century, see the four-volume Library of Essays on Music Performance Practice (Aldershot, 2011) in the Bibliography. The third volume in this series, edited by Peter Walls, offers a broad selection of representative essays covering the Baroque period, and his introduction to the volume explores different approaches to investigating Baroque performance practice.

Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

4

goal for studying performance practice. The 1980s mark a turning point in some ways, a time when objectives and methods were re-examined with a view to reevaluating the importance of authenticity and whether pursuing it as a goal might actually obscure rather than enhance the objectives of studying music of the past.2 Looking back on the authenticity debate, Stanley Sadie argued for a measured approach, one by which performers would seek authenticity not because they wish to be purists, but because they find that historically informed research and methods bring us closer to understanding a work (as a larger entity than the music itself).3 Looked at from the music as a starting point, one might find Richard Taruskin’s observation useful, that performing early music is an attempt to “re-imagine” something old, not necessarily to create it anew.4 One result of the authenticity debate was a recognition that artistic judgment and musicality remain core values in the study of performance practice. Since the early 1990s, the phrase “historically informed performance” (often abbreviated HIP) has gained acceptance as a term that embraces both artistic endeavor and historical research. Seeking a historically informed performance encourages scholarly investigation but recognizes the importance of combining early techniques with artistic judgment. Historically informed performance thus becomes a useful way of describing the objectives of performance practice, which are continually shifting to take into account the ongoing collaborations between scholars and performers and the ways that new research informs musical performance. A parallel shift in objectives has taken place in the editing of musical editions. Related to the performer’s quest for authenticity was the concept of an Urtext edition whose objective was to present a work with its “original” or intended meaning. Some performers looked to an Urtext for a musical score that is free of editorial intervention and therefore (theoretically, at least) as the composer may have wished to present it. This view brought the value of an editor into question, and with the arrival of facsimile editions (photographic reproductions of original sources), the argument became stronger that the editor’s work had become superfluous, since increasingly performers could consult “original” sources themselves.5 Today, scholars and performers usually support a more moderate view that would encourage performers to engage with multiple sources, both original 2

  Several important essays that deal with questions of authenticity appear in Nicholas Kenyon, ed., Authenticity and Early Music: A Symposium (New York and Oxford, 1988). For additional views on the goals and pitfalls of authenticity, see the Bibliography to vol. 3 in the Library of Essays on Music Performance Practice cited in footnote 1. 3   Stanley Sadie, “The Idea of Authenticity,” in Companion to Baroque Music, ed. Julie Anne Sadie (New York, 1990), pp. 444–5. 4   Richard Taruskin, Text and Act: Essays on Music and Performance (New York and Oxford, 1995), Introduction, pp. 8–9. 5   Further on the editor’s role as superfluous (but nevertheless a very useful historical overview of editing techniques in early music), see Philip Brett, “Text, Context, and the Early Music Editor,” in Authenticity and Early Music, ed. Kenyon, pp. 83–114.

Historical Context, Musical Works, and Performance

5

ones and modern scholarly editions, while stipulating that no edition can be (or even should be) entirely devoid of editorial intervention, and even facsimiles have inherent pitfalls that hinder their usefulness. Playing from Facsimiles Playing from facsimiles has certain advantages for early music performers, the most obvious being the opportunity to make one’s own decisions about ornamentation, figured-bass realization, and other musical features not always fully indicated by composers. Facsimiles also usually offer fewer page-turns than modern editions, and they give performers the opportunity to experience the “look and feel” of an original source. However, players need to be cautious in choosing facsimiles, for they do not always represent a faithful copy of an original text. Despite being a photo-mechanical reproduction, facsimiles have often (in fact, usually) been altered by in-house cleaning up, which publishers feel obliged to do given the difficulty of reading music that may have spots, ink smudges, and bleed-through of ink from the reverse side of certain pages. Unfortunately, if the “cleaning up” is not done with extreme care, it may also destroy information that was essential to the music. There are examples of clefs, time signatures, and other information being changed or deleted in-house in the name of producing a cleaner score. That publishers have in many cases not indicated what has been altered in their facsimiles can make the choice a difficult one for players. Facsimiles have allowed players to explore a much broader range of early music than is available in scholarly editions, but they are not necessarily dependable documents for scholarly research, and for performance they may also be misleading in certain ways.6 Nicholas Temperley has argued that facsimiles have limited value for performers, since one of their disadvantages is that to understand fully the meaning of the symbols in their totality requires the intervention of an editor. Writing in 1985, Temperley spoke of a time not yet experienced when performers would have “re-educated themselves in the idiosyncrasies of early music notation (C clefs, continuo realizations, ornament signs and the rest) to be able to use unedited facsimiles with confidence.”7 Temperley’s wish for a time when performers would be able to cope with the conventions of the past has come much closer to being a reality today. Many Baroque violinists take not only C clefs but also French violin clef (treble clef on the first line) in stride, and many keyboard players realize basse 6   For several opinions on the use of facsimiles from different points of view, see Nicholas Temperley, “On Editing Facsimiles for Performance,” Notes 41 (June, 1985): 683–8; Ronald Broude, “Facsimiles and Historical Performance: Promises and Pitfalls,” Historical Performance (The Journal of Early Music America) 3:1 (Spring, 1990): 19–22; and Alexander Silbiger, “In Defense of Facsimiles,” Historical Performance 7 (Fall, 1994): 101–4. 7   Temperley, “On Editing Facsimiles for Performance,” p. 683.

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continue parts fluently, but with this change has come the realization that many notational conventions and practices still need to be explained and assimilated. French scores of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries were produced at a time when several different printing methods were in use, and the musical symbols and conventions that govern them changed, sometimes numerous times. Moreover, some French scores represent only a schematic outline of the full instrumentation that was intended to be used in performance. Often they were published in an abbreviated format called a short score (partition réduite) in which certain parts (usually the inner parts, or parties de remplissage) were omitted.8 Consulting a facsimile edition of such a score may not necessarily bring performers closer to realizing the composer’s intentions, and the need for a scholarly edition is obvious in such a case. Even when a facsimile accurately represents an early printed edition, it is worth remembering that copies of eighteenth-century prints of a given musical work were not necessarily identical. Corrections and other alterations were made during and after production, and such changes are usually not apparent when consulting a single facsimile edition today. Another type of facsimile has emerged within the past few years that presents a more authoritative text for performers while still preserving the look and feel of an eighteenth-century print. The edited facsimile lies somewhere between a scholarly edition and a facsimile in that it presents an ideal copy of the printed source with errors corrected, with the composer’s or printer’s emendations also incorporated, and with a set of critical notes compiled by the modern editor, making it possible to study the derivation of the changes.9 Such edited facsimiles, of which a few are now available for French Baroque music,10 offer many advantages over other facsimile editions. However, they do French publishers began issuing operas in partition réduite, usually on two staves, but sometimes also on three staves as a partition en trio, in the late seventeenth century. For a summary of the practice, see Thomas Christiansen, “Public Music in Private Spaces: Piano-Vocal Scores and the Domestication of Opera,” in Music and the Cultures of Print, ed. Kate van Orden (New York and London, 2000), pp. 71–5. In the case of other genres such as the cantata or works for orchestra, the lack of inner parts may not necessarily be recognized by modern users, who may assume that the scores present all of the parts that were intended to be heard. For examples of such mistaken identities and new research on how parts need to be reconstructed in certain cases, see Peter Holman, “An Orchestral Suite by François Couperin?” Early Music 14 (February, 1986): 71–6, and Graham Sadler, “The Orchestral French Cantata (1706–30): Performance, Edition, and Classification of a Neglected Repertory,” in Aspects of the Secular Cantata in Late Baroque Italy, ed. Michael Talbot (Aldershot, 2009), pp. 227–54. 9 Edited facsimiles, published under the trademark of “critical facsimiles” by The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions (New York), exist for musical works from the sixteenth to the eighteenth centuries. For a fuller explanation of the premise for the series, see Ronald Broude, “Communication,” Notes 61 (March, 2005): 892–7. 10 See, for example, Marin Marais, Pièces en trio pour les flutes, violon, & dessus de viole, ed. John Hsu, Critical Facsimiles 4 (New York, 2001) and Élisabeth-Claude Jacquet 8

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require considerably more effort to produce and, thus far at least, edited facsimiles exist for only a few works. The Text and What It Represents Questions about the nature of a musical work as represented in a given source, and the relationship of a notated work to the way it may have sounded are central to the study of performance practice. Such questions help to broaden our understanding of what is represented in a notated version of a musical composition. Stanley Boorman cautions against trusting a modern edition (or even a single original source), since even a composer’s holograph represents the composition in one version that cannot be considered equivalent to the work itself.11 A similar observation can be made when one attempts to discover a composer’s intentions by comparing different sources of the same work. Such investigations give rise to the question of the “authority” of a source and how each source may convey some portion of the composer’s “intentions.”12 As Walter Emery candidly observed more than a half-century ago, editors and performers must deal with the inevitable circumstance that “the notes a composer wrote are not always those he meant to write.”13 Another way of looking at the same issue is that even when the composer indicated in some detail how he expected his music to be played, that text represented only a single performance. As Ronald Broude argues, a seventeenthor eighteenth-century composer who allowed his music to circulate in print or in manuscript knew that it would be viewed as “communal property” and that it would be elaborated upon by performers in their own individual manners.14 Each time a work is performed, a version is created from the notated symbols, so that the “work” as realized in performance is always changing. A version of the work is created anew, and each performance will therefore represent the work slightly differently.15 Certain decisions and elements of a performance are omitted de La Guerre, Les Piéces de Claveßin de Mad.elle de La Guerre, Premier Livre, ed. Catherine Cessac and Arthur Lawrence, Critical Facsimiles 9 (New York, 2009). 11   Stanley Boorman, “The Musical Text,” in Rethinking Music, ed. Nicholas Cook and Mark Everist (Oxford, 1999), p. 404. 12   Stanley Boorman discusses the concept of “authority” in relation to authenticity and other concepts in ibid., pp. 418–20. For definitions of concepts such as authoritative copy-text and substantive readings vs. accidentals, see W. W. Greg, “The Rationale of Copy-Text,” in Studies in Bibliography, ed. Fredson Bowers (Charlottesville, VA, 1950): 19–36. 13   Walter Emery, Editions and Musicians (London, 1957), p. 7. 14   Ronald Broude, “Whose Composition Is It Anyway?” Early Music America 13 (Winter, 2007): 25–8 and 46. 15   On the question of the work versus the performance as text, see Boorman, “The Musical Text,” pp. 405–14, and David Fuller, “Sous les doits de Chambonniere,” Early

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from a composer’s score by convention or by preference, and it is the player, in undertaking a sort of collaboration with the composer, who realizes the “work,” or at least a version of that work. Faced with the possibility of consulting more than one—and sometimes several—sources of a given work, players will have many choices and decisions to make based on differences between those sources. David Fuller applies the term “heterotextuality” to the multiplicity of available sources and suggests that it is the performer’s responsibility to act as editor, drawing comparisons from the surviving versions, being open to recognizing the composer’s style from them, and accepting any one of them as representing a particular performance, not the piece itself.16 Ronald Broude addresses this issue with regard to the study of French keyboard music, where the number of surviving sources is especially large.17 John Butt makes a similar point when he observes that different versions often exist because the composers were themselves outstanding performers. He sees the opportunity of studying many texts of a given piece as a way for modern players to observe a “performing persona” from the past,18 which helps us to go beyond the direct meaning of the notation to an interpretation and understanding of the elements of style that the symbols convey. Butt also uses this premise as a way to inform our understanding of the composer’s “intentions,” as they may or may not be preserved in any printed or manuscript source. He concludes: In short, the ultimate value of studying intention for the purposes of HIP [historically informed performance] might rest not so much in telling us how a piece should or should not sound but rather in how performance, as the medium of sounding music, conditions our idea of how music relates to the world in which it first sounded and that in which it continues to sound. It can be a counterbalance to the traditional way of viewing music history as merely the history of musical works.19

Music 21 (May, 1993): 191–202. Ronald Broude adds the important observation that certain musical features constitute an “essential piece” that can be considered the composer’s own. This concept bears implications for editing such a piece and its variants. See Ronald Broude, “When Accidentals are Substantive: Applying Methodologies of Textual Criticism to Scholarly Editions of Music,” Text [Transactions of the Society for Textual Scholarship] 5 (1991): 105–121. 16   Fuller, “Sous les doits de Chambonniere,” 191–202. This point is also discussed by John Butt in Playing with History: The Historical Approach to Musical Performance (Cambridge, 2002), pp. 93–4. 17   Ronald Broude, “Composition, Performance, and Text in Solo Music of the French Baroque,” Text: An Interdisciplinary Annual of Textual Studies 15 (2002): 19–49. 18   Butt, Playing with History, p. 94. 19   Ibid., p. 95.

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Secondary Sources on Baroque Performance Practice When identifying the origin of modern studies of performance practice of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, it is customary to look back to the influential work of Arnold Dolmetsch in his book The Interpretation of Music of the XVIIth and XVIIIth Centuries Revealed by Contemporary Evidence (1915). His work, and that of a number of scholars who followed his example, such as Robert Donington, Frederick Neumann, and others, helped to define the common features that Baroque music shares and the ways that Baroque techniques are set apart from current practice. Valuable as this approach is—and it does still form the basis for our understanding of historically informed performance practices—performers and scholars today have also become aware that the Baroque era is too large and too diverse to be considered as one stylistic entity. Styles, notational conventions, and the musical instruments themselves all underwent numerous changes between 1600 and 1750, and even practices that co-existed differed markedly from each other. These differing practices and conventions were frequently defined by their locale, or by the way that certain musical organizations or individual composers interpreted them. Both from a historical perspective and from the point of view of performance practice, we can benefit greatly from taking into account the geographical boundaries within which practices were known.20 The advantages of considering a body of music that originates from composers who worked not only at the same time but also in the same geographical location are many. We are able to consider specific techniques that applied to individual musical instruments, or to groups of instruments (such as strings or woodwinds), and we can also focus on certain conventions of notation (such as notes inégales) that applied only to certain styles of music. In such investigations, we can seek to define specific practices of individual composers and how these composers interpreted the notational conventions that were familiar to them. All of these investigations are greatly assisted by defining a geographical boundary for our study. The Historical Context for Studying French Baroque Music Although the work of Arnold Dolmetsch is widely regarded as the beginning of modern studies in performance practice, it can be shown that the roots of such studies for French Baroque music are much older. In France, a resurgence of 20   Significant studies of French Baroque music from a historical perspective include James R. Anthony, French Baroque Music from Beaujoyeulx to Rameau, revised and expanded edition (Portland, OR, 1997); Julie Anne Sadie, Companion to Baroque Music, especially the section on France (pp. 91–147), which includes a biographical dictionary; and Julie Anne Sadie, “Paris and Versailles,” in The Late Baroque Era from the 1680s to 1740, Music and Society, vol. 2, ed. George J. Buelow (Englewood Cliffs, NJ, 1993): pp. 129–89.

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interest in Baroque music and early instruments can be traced back as far as the 1860s and to performances on the harpsichord by Louis Diémer (1843–1919), a pupil of Antoine-François Marmontel at the Conservatoire de musique in Paris who replaced his teacher at that institution in 1887. Diémer founded the Société des Instruments anciens, and from 1864 on he performed works by Rameau, Couperin, and Daquin first on the piano and, in the 1880s and 1890s, on the harpsichord. Diémer and his friend Jules Delsart also performed works for basse de viole and basse continue by Marais. Diémer fostered a resurgence of interest in a wide variety of French vocal and instrumental music, and he also edited works by Couperin and others.21 Howard Mayer Brown also points to the contribution of twentieth-century performers and scholars who worked in France and who contributed to the goals of performance practice. In the area of performance, he cites Wanda Landowska, who settled in Paris in 1900, as one of the first musicians who greatly influenced the early music movement with her recordings and performances. Brown also observes that French scholars such as Henry Expert, André Pirro, and Michel Brenet (among others) did much to bring French music to the attention of interested scholars, musicians, and concert goers.22 The work of these scholars and others like them was based on a rediscovery of original sources in French libraries. In more recent times, the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles (CMBV)—founded in 1987 to support research, performance, editing, recording, and education devoted to French music of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries—has contributed enormously to the revival of interest in French Baroque music and historically informed performance. Their website, music, recordings, and editions form a rich resource for scholars, players, and students who wish to learn about music of this period. The contribution of early complete editions to the further study and performance of French Baroque music is also significant. Scholarly editions of music by Couperin, Lully, and Rameau were among the earliest to be published in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, and since the 1960s many important new scholarly editions of works by French Baroque composers have been published, several of which are still in progress. Significant volumes have appeared recently from the Oeuvres complètes of Jean-Baptiste Lully (Hildesheim: Georg Olms Verlag) and a volume of Lully’s grands motets in The Collected Works (New York: The Broude Trust); a new scholarly edition of François Couperin’s instrumental and vocal music (ed. Kenneth Gilbert and Davitt Moroney, Monaco: Éditions de l’Oiseau-Lyre); the Opera omnia of Jean-Philippe Rameau under the general directorship of Sylvie Bouissou (Paris: Société Jean-Philippe Rameau, worldwide 21

  The contribution of Louis Diémer to the resurgence of interest in French Baroque music in France is explored by Christiane Becker-Derex, Louis Diémer et le clavecin en France à la fin du XIXe siècle (Paris, 2001). 22   Howard Mayer Brown, “Pedantry or Liberation? A Sketch of the Historical Performance Movement,” in Authenticity and Early Music, ed. Kenyon, p. 37.

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distribution by Bärenreiter Verlag); the Collected Works of Élisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre (New York: The Broude Trust), and The Instrumental Works of Marin Marais, 7 volumes (New York: The Broude Trust, 1980–2002). Many other scholarly editions of music by French Baroque composers have been published in recent times, offering players and scholars a rich source of material for study, performance, and personal enrichment. Performance Practice Issues Specific to French Baroque Music Almost as early as the beginnings of research into performance practice issues, scholars have repeatedly observed that specific repertories within a given historical period require different approaches and techniques. There are also numerous reasons why it makes sense for performers to separate national styles in their study of performance practice. Singers are perhaps more conditioned to this approach than other early music performers, since they must approach style through an understanding of language. For singers, as one well-known early music conductor has observed, the style associated with French Baroque music is the most difficult of national styles to master.23 Not only is French style intimately associated with language (for instrumentalists as well as singers), but ornamentation also bears a close relationship to language, because fluid ornamentation contributes to good diction. There are a few specific circumstances about the sources themselves that also set French music apart from other Baroque repertoires. One circumstance arises from the fact that music printing and engraving flourished in France throughout the Baroque era to a remarkable level. Music still circulated to a large extent in manuscript sources too, at a time when the relatively high cost of printed music meant that owning a library of prints was largely reserved for wealthy musicians and their patrons. As Peter Walls notes, the layout of certain French scores of violin sonatas suggest that at least two musicians performed from a single print, or that at least two bass players performed from one score.24 However, score formats varied considerably even within a single collection, and it is often impossible to know whether a particular format was chosen with professional or amateur musicians in mind. Howard Mayer Brown observes that the French Baroque repertoire is one of several that can only be performed when players incorporate techniques and

  William Christie, “The Elusive World of the French Baroque,” Early Music 21 (May, 1993): 263–6. 24   Peter Walls cites examples from the sonatas for violin and basse continue by Michele Mascitti (1704, 1707), Jean-Féry Rebel (1713), and Louis Francoeur (1715) in his chapter entitled “What’s the Score?”, in History, Imagination, and the Performance of Music (Woodbridge: 2003), pp. 65–6. 23

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instruments that are different from the ones they normally use.25 He also notes that sonority and balance of instruments within an ensemble are two issues that set French music apart from other Baroque repertories, and that both issues are critical to understanding and performing the music with the composer’s intentions and within a historically informed framework.26 Although these two features are not the only ones that set French Baroque music apart from other Baroque repertories, they are perhaps the most identifiable ones for listeners and therefore deserve further comment. In seeking a characteristically French sonority, players soon become keenly aware of the instruments and associated equipment as critical to achieving the desired sound. This is not to underestimate the techniques used to play the instruments, but construction and the physical features of the instruments themselves remain of central importance to determining the sonority that can be achieved. Such differences of construction are widely known in the harpsichord and organ world, but for bowed string instruments they are less noticeable to the casual observer and therefore not as widely understood. The type of bow that players choose and the size, construction, and stringing of the instrument all contribute to the resulting sonority.27 To take one example, a viol modeled on one built in the eighteenth century by one of the great French builders such as Nicholas Bertrand differs substantially in sonority from instruments modeled after German or Italian builders of the same period. In part, the addition of a seventh string on a French instrument adds a darker quality to the sound and also markedly changes its resonance. Although the materials used in the strings themselves also greatly affect the resulting sonority, the specific features of the instruments’ construction make French viols speak somewhat more slowly than English and German viols. All of these features affect sonority greatly when these instruments are combined with others in small or large ensembles. Violins by French builders also have specific sonorities that set them apart, and of course bows and playing techniques contribute significantly to their sound as well. Using period instruments may bring us closer to a sonority and balance that seems appropriate for Baroque music, but choosing instruments that bear specifically French characteristics may draw us even closer to understanding the unique qualities that define the sound of French music.

25

  Mayer Brown, “Pedantry or Liberation?”, p. 28.   Ibid., p. 29. 27   The restoration of original instruments poses issues that are somewhat different from those that players confront when investigating early performing techniques. Historical instruments can tell us much about the music that was played on them, but the instruments are often not in original condition, and restoring them can hide or even destroy historical information they possess. These issues are explored by Ronald Broude in “Playing on Originals: The Material Presence of the Past,” Early Music America 15 (Winter, 2009): 30–35 and 53–5. 26

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Any attempt to discuss how French Baroque sounded, or how composers intended their music to be performed, demands a cautionary prelude. Virtually all of the concepts and sound ideals under discussion represent points of departure, not answers in themselves. There is almost always room for latitude in interpretation, and each performance was, and still should be, an individual artistic expression. During the Baroque era, performers sought individual performances that varied each time they performed a given piece, and performances in different venues and on different instruments (especially when, as is often the case, a composer did not indicate a specific instrumentation) bring great variety and interest to recordings and concert performances today. Style in French Baroque Music for Bowed String Instruments The period covered by this book is defined more by the way that bowed string instruments developed in France than by any strict definition of Baroque music. In a general sense, bowed string instruments developed as individual solo instruments later in France than they did in Italy. The viol was the first of the bowed string instruments to come into its own as a solo instrument in France in the late seventeenth century, followed closely by the violin in the early eighteenth century, and the cello rose to favor as a solo instrument closer to the 1730s. During the period that a great many collections of chamber music were published for the viol, violin, and cello—approximately 1680 to 1760—these instruments also participated in a variety of larger vocal and instrumental combinations. Although an emphasis is placed in this book on solo music, performance practices that apply to chamber music and orchestral playing are also investigated. Indeed, as we shall see, many conventions and notational practices apply equally well to both solo and chamber music performance.

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Chapter 2

French and Italian Musical Style: The Great Divide French musicians of the eighteenth century were confronted by challenges that are similar in many ways to those that musicians face today. From the end of the seventeenth century onward, Parisian musicians experienced an unprecedented level of exposure to foreign musical styles and new interpretive approaches that offered them a rich and varied experience. This expanded opportunity was warmly welcomed by some but roundly rejected by others. French composers and performers also increasingly sought musical training and experience outside of France; indeed, by the mid-eighteenth century, Jean-Jacques Rousseau was not the only writer who expressed the view that travel to Italy was the sole means for young French composers to discover the true meaning of musical “genius.”1 Today musicians are accustomed to hearing and performing music representing a wide variety of eras and styles, and the debate that took place during the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries between supporters of French and Italian musical styles may appear somewhat exaggerated. To violinists today, whose repertoire encompasses three hundred years of solo music and a great many different national styles, the views of eighteenth-century French writers who claimed that it was impossible to perform the music of any other country than one’s own may appear contrived and artificial. Singers and instrumentalists in the twenty-first century routinely perform music representing many different musical styles, some of which require different playing techniques and different instruments. Such varied techniques may require string players to switch between two or more instruments and to employ different pitch standards as well as different bows or other playing equipment. Although the size of the solo repertoire for string instruments is vastly larger today than it was in the eighteenth century, early French players nevertheless faced similar issues to those we face today regarding such matters as pitch, stringing, and choice of bows and instruments. At the same time, the confluence of French and Italian styles fuelled a musical controversy whose roots can be traced back to the seventeenth century and which grew stronger during the eighteenth century, culminating in a heated debate during the 1750s between supporters of French and Italian opera called the Guerre des Bouffons.

1   Jean-Jacques Rousseau, art. génie in Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768), pp. 227–8.

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French writers of the eighteenth century often refer to le goût françois as an over-arching term for the multitude of features that characterized a French musical composition or musical performance. Whereas we may conveniently speak of “French style” when referring to these characteristics, it is worth recalling that le goût françois encompassed many aspects that go beyond stylistic features in French music. For example, the choice of instrument; its stringing, tuning, and pitch standard; the type and design of the bow; the combination of instruments within an ensemble; and even the seating arrangement within an ensemble (especially an orchestra) were all considered to be components of le goût françois; such a broad definition of French taste or style leads us to consider many factors beyond those most directly concerned with interpretation of the musical symbols in the music and directs us toward larger questions of how specific works should be realized in performance. Whereas the popularity of Italian music and performers in Paris early in the eighteenth century had much to do with the spread of the sonata, the continuing battle between French and Italian taste was fought largely between supporters of two opposing styles of singing. The polemical writings offered in support of French or Italian opera dealt with a broad spectrum of issues related to singing style as well as, for example, different conventions in French and Italian librettos, staging, voice types, use of chorus, and machinery. The French side of the conflict was largely concerned with traditions that preserved Lully’s tragédies, many of which continued to be preserved in the tragédies of Rameau. The Italian taste was evident in the newer genres such as the opéra-ballet (which nevertheless did not eschew its French elements, such as an emphasis on divertissements, ballet, and traditional forms such as the rondeau) and especially sung portions of those works that featured vocal display and Italianate ornamentation in the da capo aria. Defining the compositional differences between French and Italian music reflects only one part of understanding how the two styles were perceived by eighteenth-century audiences.2 Equally important are the performance practices that apply to each style and interpreting the notation within the parameters of that style. In our quest to apply a historically informed approach to performing seventeenth- and eighteenth-century French music, we can examine a few representative writings that compare the two styles with a view to discovering how writers heard the differences between them. Each of the three examples discussed below treats matters of opposing styles of performance used in French and Italian music. The essays by Raguenet (1702) and Brosses (1739–1740) were written as first-hand accounts during the writers’ travels in Italy. The brief account by Ancelet, about whom very little is known, offers some specific details about instrumental music and performers that were well known to French audiences in the 1750s. Together, these works help to provide a historical context for our further 2   For an informative view of how the same controversy shaped the development of opera and the beginning of Rameau’s musical career, see Charles Dill, Monstrous Opera, Rameau and the Tragic Tradition (Princeton, NJ, 1998), especially pp. 31–43.

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study of specific issues of interpretation that will be explored in more detail in Parts III and IV of this book. François Raguenet (1702) on French and Italian Musical Style François Raguenet (1660–1722) was a literate, observant writer and a priest who travelled to Italy and published a lengthy comparison of French and Italian music upon his return. His Parallele des Italiens et des François en ce qui regarde la musique et les opéras (Paris, 1702) ignited controversy at a time when Italian sonatas and cantatas were gaining considerable popularity in Paris.3 Raguenet’s preference for Italian music came under attack from other writers, such as Jean Laurent Le Cerf de la Viéville, whose Comparaison de la musique italienne et de la musique françoise (Brussels, 1704) answered Raguenet’s statement and also drew a response from Raguenet entitled Défense du parallele, published a short time after Le Cerf’s Comparison.4 Raguenet intended his report as an objective comparison between French and Italian opera, but he engages in a musical comparison that ranges much more widely covering not only opera libretti, staging, and music, but also other genres such as instrumental music, as well as musical instruments, voice types, musical education, and compositional techniques. Despite Raguenet’s stated objective of presenting a reasoned and objective comparison between French and Italian musics, overall his writings communicate a personal preference for Italian music and performance. The area in which his support for French music is strongest lies (not surprisingly) in French opera, an institution that had attained great splendor and power during the reign of Lully. After Lully’s death in 1687, the composer’s reputation and overwhelming success with the tragédie kept his works alive, but changes in public taste also began to create controversy that would result in the creation of new genres such as the opéra-ballet. Raguenet’s work was one of the influential statements that helped to define public taste at the time, but his opinion also represents a conservative position in which the most admired features of Lully’s operas receive the most praise. In this way, his writings are also typical of other supporters of French style and Lullian tradition. Specific features that he cites as support for the superiority of French opera over Italian are a more tightly constructed libretto, the composition and delivery of recitative, the prominence given to certain voices such as the 3   [François Raguenet], Paralele [sic] des Italiens et des François en ce qui regarde la musique et les opéra (Paris, 1702); the work was published anonymously. An English translation, also anonymous (probably by Johann Ernst Galliard), was published as A Comparison between the French and Italian Musick and Opera’s (London, 1709). 4   François Raguenet, Défense du parallele des italiens et des françois en ce qui regarde la Musique et les Opéra (Paris, 1705); Jean Laurent Le Cerf de La Viéville de Freneuse, Comparaison de la musique italienne et de la musique françoise (Brussels, 1704–06).

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basse-contre (bass voice), and the use of chorus and dance in the divertissements, which adds a certain “air of grandeur and magnificence” (air de grandeur et de magnificence).5 Raguenet’s praise for Lully is unequivocal: for him, Lully was the only French composer who possessed true genius, and Lully’s death therefore left French music in serious decline. He also stresses the oft-repeated observation from French writers that Italian music could only be experienced by witnessing it first-hand in Italy. In his comparison of French and Italian music, Raguenet comments on stylistic features such as differences in harmonic language, an observation often repeated by his contemporaries. He notes that French composers rarely deviate from the rules of harmony and voice-leading; his general observation that the French use harmony in ways that “caress the ear and flatter it” (ils flatent [sic], chatoüillent, respectent l’oreille)6 leaves some room for interpretation on our part, but his meaning becomes slightly clearer when he compares Italian harmonic language, which he claims involves quick changes of key and mode, with trills amplified and continued for seven or eight measures where we [the French] would not have thought it possible to ornament at all; they have holds of such a prodigious length that anyone not accustomed to them hardly knows whether at first to accept such bold treatment but in the end cannot admire it enough. ([the Italians] changent brusquement de ton & de mode, font des cadences doublées & redoublées de sept & de huit mesures sur des tons que nous ne croirions pas capables de porter le moindre tremblement; ils font des Tenuës d’une longueur si prodigieuse, que ceux qui n’y sont pas accoûtumez ne sauroient s’empêcher d’estre d’abord indignez de cette hardiessse que dans la suite on croit ne pouvoir jamais assez admirer.)7

Although it is not entirely clear exactly what type of ornamentation appeared so astonishing to Raguenet, his comments about Italian harmony resonate with those of other writers from the period. Abrupt modulations, use of unprepared dissonances, as well as seventh and ninth chords, and abrupt changes of mode (major/minor shifts) were all features that were repeatedly pointed out as bold gestures that were previously little used by French composers until after Italian sonatas and cantatas had circulated in France. These Italianisms became part of the fabric of works by French composers such as Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, François Couperin, Jean-Féry Rebel, and others who adopted features of the Italian style in their compositions.  Raguenet, Parallèle, p. 16.  Ibid., p. 32. 7   Ibid., pp. 33–4. 5 6

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Some of Raguenet’s comparisons that concern string playing deal with conventions that apply to group performances. For example, there was no time-beater (batteur de mesure) in Italian orchestras, yet he observed that players still maintained excellent ensemble. This reference appears to take into account the custom in Italian ensembles for the first violinist to lead or function as conductor (although Raguenet does not specifically mention this responsibility, most likely because it was not readily apparent to observers). String players, according to Raguenet, also enjoyed a higher status in Italy, where the most famous players were also orchestral musicians. He notes that French practice was contrary to that of Italian centers, with string players generally not being accorded pay or status befitting their ability, resulting in the best players refusing to take part in orchestral performance. With regard to singing, Raguenet praises the Italian language as more suited to musical nuance and expression owing to its preponderance of vowels and the way that singers enunciated clearly when they sang. In comparing French and Italian music, he posits that there is no wonder that it is difficult to understand another country’s music: The French, in the airs that they compose, always seek what is gentle, easy, smooth and flowing; everything is in the same key, or, if it changes sometimes, it is done with preparation and by softening and making the Air as natural and as consistent as if the key had not changed at all; there is nothing that stands out or is brash; everything is equal and unified. (Les Francois, dans les Airs qu’ils font, cherchent par-tout le doux, le facile, ce qui coule, ce qui se lie; tout y est sur le même ton; ou si quelquesfois (sic) on en change, on le fait avec des préparations & des adoucissemens qui rendent l’Air aussi naturel & aussi suivi que si l’on n’en changeoit point du tout, il n’y a rien de fier ny de hazardé; tout y est égal & tout uni.)8

Useful as Raguenet’s parallels between French and Italian opera are, it is his comments about French and Italian ornamentation that speak most directly to instrumentalists. Couched within his comparisons of the two styles of singing are many observations that apply equally well to string players. The Italians, he writes, added all sorts of ornaments to their airs, “a hundred different runs all done lightly in the throat, with echos that add subtle charm” (ils y font cent sorts de passages, & cela tout en badinant; ils font, dans leur gosier, des Echos d’une finesse charmante).9 French singers, he claims, scarcely used rapid runs or echo passages (by which he presumably means forte-piano contrasts or other dynamic shading).10 Another nuance that struck him as effective was used by Italian singers in tender airs, where they would gradually diminish their voices 8



Ibid., pp. 30–31. Ibid., p. 92. 10 Ibid. 9

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with “great delicacy of expression” (de la derniére délicatesse) at the end of an air, a technique that he claimed was not only unknown to French singers, but was also impossible for them, because French voices were much lighter than Italian ones.11 He speaks of finesse with reference to violins and violinists, noting that French violins surpass Italian ones for the delicacy and finesse of their sound quality. He finds Italian violin playing also “harsh” (tres-durs) and more detached than French playing in general, and he is especially critical of the Italian manner of slurring notes together, which he finds “disagreeable” (unfortunately, without further explanation as to why).12 Raguenet’s specific comments also offer some insights about his preferences for sound and sound production on string instruments. He alludes to differences in size, construction, and stringing of bowed and plucked string instruments, with the result that Italian opera orchestras were able to produce greater volume with fewer instruments. His comments about the basse de violon suggest that the instrument he heard in Italian opera houses was the contrebasse, which was at the time scarcely known at the Paris Opéra: Their violins [those of the Italians] are strung with much thicker strings than ours; they have much longer bows, and they know how to draw twice as much sound from their instruments than we do … Their archlutes are twice as large as our theorboes; everything is half again as loud in volume; their basses de violon are twice as large as ours; and all of them joined together in our operas do not make as loud a “buzz” as two of their large basses do in Italian opera. It is certainly an instrument that we lack in France. (Leurs violons sont montez de cordes plus grosses que les nôtres, ils ont des archets beaucoup plus longs, & ils savent tirer de leurs Instrumens une fois plus de son, que nous. … Leurs Archiluts sont une fois plus grands que nos Thüorbes; tout y est plus fort de la moitié, pour le son; leurs Basses de violon sont une fois plus grosses que les nôtres; & toutes celles qu’on joint ensemble, dans nos Opéra, ne font point un bourdonnement aussi fort, que le font deux de ces grosses Basses, aux Opéra d’Italie; c’est assurément un Instrument qui nous manque en France.)13

Taken together, Raguenet’s observations hold value today as first-hand accounts from an astute observer who was steeped in Lullian operatic tradition and who staunchly supported it. At the same time, his account of the new sounds of Italian 11

  Ibid., p. 93.   Ibid., p. 17. “Quant aux instrumens, nos violons sont au-dessus de ceux d’Italie pour la finesse & la délicatesse du jeu. Tous les coups d’archet des Italiens sont tres-durs lors qu’ils sont détachez les uns des autres; & lors qu’ils les veulent lier, ils viellent d’une maniere tres-desagréable.” 13   Ibid., pp. 103–6. 12

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music that attracted his attention when he heard them during his travels tells us much about the way that striking and unusual dissonances, ornamentation, modulations, and sound production contributed to differences in style between French and Italian music. Although such differences may not appear as bold or unusual today, Raguenet’s comments form a backdrop against which we can judge French writers who followed him. If there is an overarching trend in musical criticism of the first half of the eighteenth century in France with regard to the divide between French and Italian music, it appears to be that the differences between these two traditions grew wider as the century continued. Charles de Brosses’s Observations on Italian Music (1739–1740) When Charles de Brosses hailed Naples as the “capital of the world’s music,”14 his implied criticism of French music struck to the core of the battle between French and Italian musical taste. Charles de Brosses (1707–1777), who served as President of the Parliament of Dijon, was a literate and educated observer who appreciated both art and music. Over a period of years, he wrote many letters from Italy, some in the form of a journal, and some of them circulated in French social circles. A self-described sympathizer for Italian music, Brosses wrote a set of Lettres familières during his travels to Italy in 1739 and 1740 that offer important material for the study of performance practice; like Raguenet, he directs many of his comments toward opera and singing, but he also offers some valuable observations about instrumental music and performance. In his well-known letter on “spectacles and music” to Monsieur de Malateste, written in Rome in 1739, Brosses offers a wide-ranging comparison between Italian music and French music, with numerous comparisons between specific performers, venues, and genres of music.15 Avoiding the need to declare one type of music supreme, he argues that each country’s music requires a depth of understanding that can only be acquired through dedicated and thorough study and practice. He repeatedly claims that one can only begin to understand French or Italian music by hearing it in its native surroundings; in his opinion, Italian music performed in Paris did not represent the variety and depth of expression that he observed in Rome and other Italian centers. His argument against uniting French and Italian styles (which was advocated by François Couperin and others) centers on the advantage of being able to enjoy each of them independently: 14   Charles de Brosses, “Naples est la capitale du monde musicien…” From a letter written in Rome, November 24, 1739 to M. de Neuilly, in Lettres du Président de Brosses, ed. Frédéric d’Agay (Paris, 1986), vol. 1, p. 401. 15   Frédéric d’Agay observes that the date on Brosses letter (December 2, 1739) suggests that he wrote the letter before witnessing some of the musical performances in Rome and then later added to the letter and crossed out the date. See Brosses, Lettres du Président de Brosses, vol. 2, p. 534, fn. 256.

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I see individuals among us who wish that our modern composers would Italianize our [French] music. I cannot agree with them for a thousand reasons, such as, among others, because I prefer to have two [separate] musics rather than one. (Je vois des gens parmi nous qui voudraient que nos compositeurs modernes italianisassent notre musique. Je ne puis être de leur avis par mille raisons, et entre autres, parce que j’aime mieux qu’il a ait deux musiques que de n’y en avoir q’une.)16

Brosses’s comments about instrumental music recall some of Raguenet’s observations concerning the variety of dynamic shading, which Brosses calls chiaroscuro. In the performance of violin sonatas, Brosses found that French and Italian players had a similar command of the fingerboard, but that Italian players surpassed the French in their use of the bow: it is the bow hand that we lack, whereas they [the Italians] have a thousand delicate phrasings, a thousand quick strokes, in a word, an articulation that we do not know how to acquire. Pascalini of Rome is exquisite in the brilliant part; he played the other day at Saint Cecilia like a god. He is the Guignon of Italy, as Tartini of Padua is its Leclair. (c’est la main de l’archet qui nous manque; ils ont milles tournures délicates, mille saillies, en un mot, une articulation que nous ne savons pas attraper. Pascalini de Rome est exquis dans cette partie brillante; il joua l’autre jour à Sainte-Cécile, comme un dieu. C’est le Guignon de l’Italie, comme Tartini, de Padoue, en est le Leclair.)17

Brosses describes French and Italian voice production in terms that are similar to Raguenet’s, but he draws further distinctions between them. He characterizes Italian voices as “bright, light, full of brilliance, very strong, and of a very wide range” (brillantes, légères, pleines d’éclat, très fortes et très étendues), whereas he describes French voices as “rounder” ([avec plus de] rondeur) and more specifically suited to the character of French music, which requires “swelled, sustained, reinforced sounds, diminishing gradually on a single note” ([sons] filés, soutenus, renflés, et diminués par graduation, sur une même note).18 16

  Ibid., vol. 2, p. 284.   Ibid., vol. 2, p. 312, from his letter on spectacles and music to Monsieur de Malateste. The identity of Pascalini is uncertain. It may be Niccolo Pasquali (d. 1757). Two castrati (Pasqualino Tiepoli and Pasqualino Betti) from Rome, known as the “Pasqualini,” spent several years in the service of the Duc d’Orléans. See Don Fader, “Philippe II d’Orléans’s ‘Chanteurs Italiens,’ the Italian Cantata, and the Goûts Réunis under Louis XIV,” Early Music 35 (2007): 240. 18  Brosses, Lettres du Président de Brosses, pp. 295–6. 17

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For modern readers, Brosses’s words help us to define some of the core differences between French and Italian music that were repeatedly expressed by French writers of the early eighteenth century. As these writers viewed the opposition between the two styles, French music and its style of performance was often described as refined, elegant, without excesses in range or unusual modulations, whereas Italian music and performance were seen as more robust, often requiring great agility and nuance from the bow hand, and from singers Italian music required flexibility and a wide range. By 1750, the battle lines between supporters of the French and Italian styles were clearly drawn. In opera, the controversy had grown to immense proportions, spawning hundreds of pamphlets and other writings that declared French or Italian opera superior. Similar arguments persisted about instrumental music, but from all reports Parisian audiences still delighted in the performances of both French and Italian music and performers. From 1725 on, the Concert Spirituel became known as an important venue for both French and Italian singers and instrumentalists to be heard.19 For example, the virtuoso violinist Gaetano Pugnani performed there on three occasions in 1754, each time as soloist in a violin concerto of his own composition.20 Alongside Pugnani on these programs, the soprano castrato Egidio Albanese performed Italian arias, and Marie Fel, the noted French soprano from the Paris Opéra, performed Italian and French sacred works. During the same period, French music publishers sometimes brought out collections that included one or more works performed at the Concert Spirituel, thereby increasing exposure to these works for the Parisian public. Ancelet’s Observations (1757) on Instrumental Music Against the backdrop of the Guerre des Bouffons, the controversy between French and Italian styles of performance in instrumental music appears less intensely felt than it was in opera, but the instrumental sphere is not without its passionate devotees. In 1740, Hubert Le Blanc gave expression to one aspect of changing taste by defending the viol, an instrument with aristocratic associations and steeped in French tradition, against the “pretensions” of the more powerful violoncello, the Italian import that was gradually replacing the viol owing to its greater volume and capacity to match the violin in larger ensembles.21 Less polemical than Le Blanc’s statement is that of Ancelet, who published a small booklet in 1757 that includes many details about instrumental music and performers, citing what he considered to be outstanding about both French   Constant Pierre, Histoire du Concert spirituel, 1725–1790 (Paris, 1975).   On Gaetano Pugnani and his sojurn in Paris, see Daniel Heartz, “Portrait of a Court Musician: Gaetano Pugnani of Turin,” Imago Musicae I (1984): 103–19, especially pp. 106–7. 21   Hubert Le Blanc, Defense de la basse de viole contre les entréprises du violon et les prétentions du violoncel [sic] (Amsterdam, 1740). 19

20

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and Italian music. Ancelet’s Observations sur la musique, les musiciens, et les instrumens (Amsterdam, 1757) offers modern players an opportunity to explore aspects of the French-Italian debate through the eyes of an observer for whom instrumental music offered listeners and performers an opportunity to unite the two styles. Even though we know little about Ancelet, we can observe that his comments represent a moderate voice by comparison with those of some of his contemporaries: I adopt no preference for one country, since the arts travel [between them], and I intend in this writing only to speak succinctly, using my experience and my own point of view … One must judge the taste of a musician by the choice of piece that he plays. A connoisseur is attracted to the beauty of the piece, to the harmony, and not to the difficulties and excess of notes in it, which most often produce nothing but bizarre sounds without expression. I would prefer also clarity, quality of sound and accuracy of tuning to rapid playing. The ignorant and mediocre students mistake for what is new the flashes of imagination of a composer who lacks genius. [Such players] only look for unusual effects on their instrument, which are unworkable to those who have learned through patient practice; certain performers of Sonatas offer the most apparent justification [for this view]. (Je n’adopte aucun Pays par préférence, puisque les Arts voyagent, & je n’ai dessein dans cet Ecrit que de parler succintement, selon mon expérience & mes foibles lumieres … L’on doit juger du goût d’un Musicien par le choix du morceau qu’il exécute. Un connoisseur s’attache à la beauté du chant, au choix de l’harmonie, & non aux difficultés surchargées de notes, qui le plus souvent ne rendent que des sons bizarres, sans expression. Je préfererois aussi la netteté, la qualité du son & la justesse, à la rapide exécution. Les ignorans & les écoliers médiocre prennent pour du neuf les écarts, d’imagination d’un compositeur sans génie. On n’est occupé sur chaque instrument qu’à chercher des traits extraordinaires, & impracticable à ceux qui n’ont pas eu la patience de les exercer; certains faiseurs de Sonates en sont la preuve la plus complette.)22

In this passage, Ancelet appears to refer to a musical connoisseur as one who appreciates the overall meaning and intent of a composition, not merely the overlay of ornamentation that might be added without expressive meaning. Ancelet’s view gives breadth to the meaning of connoisseur in the eighteenthcentury French context and what it meant to hear Italian music. As William Weber has observed, the word connoisseur during the eighteenth century often indicated

22   Ancelet [first name unknown], Observations sur la musique, les musiciens, et les instrumens (Amsterdam, 1757), pp. 6–7.

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someone who admired the Italian style, which was considered by some writers to be la musique savante.23 Ancelet names many noted violinists of his day and of the previous generation, including Jean-Jacques-Baptiste Anet (known as Baptiste), Jean Baptiste Senaillé, Jean-Marie Leclair, Jean-Pierre Guignon, Jean-Baptiste Cupis, Antoine Dauvergne, Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville, and Pierre Gavignés.24 Of the violinists he names, Gavignés was the youngest (b. 1728), a brilliant violinist who followed Leclair and became leader of the French school of violin playing. In his consideration of the advantages and disadvantages of the cello and viol, Ancelet reveals his own preference for the cello, which he says adapts well to a variety of performance situations, such as accompaniment or as a solo instrument. He reports that, by the 1750s, the viol was largely abandoned and continued to be championed only by the great virtuoso Forcroix (i.e., Jean-Baptiste Forqueray).25 The bass viol, he claims, had by the middle of the century been relegated to closets and only used by supporters of “old [i.e., outdated] music” (l’ancienne Musique) and by young women, who took up the pardessus de viole because of its gentler tone quality than the violin and its more convenient playing position.26 He also reports that the cello was able to surpass the viol in the hands of a master such as Jean Barrière or François Martin, two of several virtuoso cellists he praises, who were able to use the cello’s sonority to its full potential.27 Ancelet adds that the contrebasse by the mid-eighteenth century had also become necessary in French orchestras: It is agreed that the contrebasse is now necessary in large orchestras. Montéclair, Saggione, and Janotti have thoroughly demonstrated how this instrument sustains and nourishes the harmony.

23

  William Weber, “Learned and General Musical Taste in Eighteenth-Century France,” Past and Present 89 (November, 1980): 89. 24  Ancelet, Observations sur la musique, pp. 12–22. 25   Further on Jean-Baptiste Foqueray’s contributions as performer and composer, see the composer profile in Part IV, Chapter 12. 26   Eighteenth-century observers apparently were not in full agreement on what was considered to be an appropriate playing position for women and whether this criterion ought to guide their choice of musical instrument. The abbé Carbasuo (a pseudonym for the lutenist François Campion) indicated in 1739 that “decency, modesty, and hooped skirts” prevented women from choosing the viol and, to his regret, caused the musette and vielle to gain popularity. See his Lettre de Monsieur l’abbé Carbasuo, a Monsieur de *** auteur du temple du goust, sur la mode des Instrumens de Musique (Paris, 1739), pp. 25–6: “D’ailleurs, la décence, la modestie & la mode des Panniers ont entiérement interdit l’usage de la Viole au beau Séxe; & en dépit des envieux, la Vielle & la Musette triomphent.” 27  Ancelet, Observations sur la musique, pp. 23–5. Further on Jean-Baptiste Barrière as composer and cellist, see the composer profile in Part IV, Chapter 11.

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(L’on a éprouvé combien la Contre-Basse est encore nécessaire dans les grands Orchestres. Monteclair, Sagiono & Janotti nous ont suffisamment fait connoître combien cet Instrument soutient & nourrit l’harmonie.)28

Although Ancelet’s remarks about the contrebasse are brief, they nevertheless amplify our knowledge of the use and importance of the instrument in large French ensembles by the middle of the eighteenth century. Concluding Remarks The observations of three influential French writers—Raguenet, Brosses, and Ancelet—offer modern players a window on how French and Italian performance conventions co-existed in Parisian musical circles and identify some of the specific features that were most likely to be adopted by French players. Among the prominent features of the Italian style of performance, writers repeatedly mention dynamic contrasts (including echos) and nuanced phrasing in Italian music, as well as its brilliant, even flamboyant style of ornamentation. Observations from French writers reveal an underlying assumption that French music required quite the opposite interpretation: a more delicate bow stroke responding to the inherent lyrical qualities of the music, a lighter sound production, ornamentation that was more often notated with signs (trills, mordents, and the like), and much more subtle dynamic nuances than the bolder gestures used in Italian music. The three writers cited here avoided polemics to a large extent in their writings, but there were other writers who vehemently supported Italian music and denounced French music. Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s famous Lettre sur la musique française is a well-known example of a polemical tract that lends unqualified support to Italian music and singing.29 A similar sentiment is expressed in the article on style in Rousseau’s Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768), in which the author defines French style in musical compositions as “insipid, flat or hard, poorly cadenced, [and] monotone” (fade, plat ou dur, mal cadencé, monotone), whereas that of Italian compositions he finds to be “florid, piquant, and energetic” (fleuri, piquant, énergetique).30 Modern scholars have identified several other promising areas of research that can add significantly to knowledge of style in French Baroque music. Two areas that are particularly deserving of mention for their relationship to performance practice are the study of rhetoric and its application to musical performance, and  Ancelet, Observations sur la musique, p. 25.   Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Lettre sur la musique française (n.p., [1753]), in The Collected Writings of Rousseau, ed. Roger D. Masters and Christopher Kelly, vol. 7: Essay on the Origin of Languages and Writings Related to Music (Hanover, NH and London, 2006), pp. 141–74. 30  Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique, p. 455. 28 29

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the underlying influence of dance rhythms in French music. A number of scholars have made important contributions in both of these areas to which the interested reader is directed.31

31   On rhetoric and its importance for the interpretation of French Baroque music, see especially Jonathan Gibson, “‘A Kind of Eloquence Even in Music’: Embracing Different Rhetorics in Late Seventeenth-Century France,” The Journal of Musicology 25 (Fall, 2008): 394–433, which includes numerous references to other literature on rhetoric; Patricia M. Ranum, “Audible Rhetoric and Mute Rhetoric: The Seventeenth-Century French Sarabande,” Early Music 24 (February, 1986): 22–39; and Deborah Teplow, “Rhetoric and Eloquence: Dramatic Expression in Marin Marais’ Pièces de viole,” JVdGSA 24 (1987): 22–50. On the history and interpretation of French dance rhythms, see Betty Bang Mather, Dance Rhythms of the French Baroque: A Handbook for Performance (Bloomington and Indianapolis, IN, 1987), and Wendy Hilton, Dance of Court and Theater: The French Noble Style, 1690–1725 (Princeton, NJ, 1981), as well as studies by Rebecca-Harris Warrick and Meredith Little in the bibliography. For a concise summary of the principal dance types found in French music of the first half of the eighteenth century, see Appendix F (“Dance Forms in Couperin’s Music”) in David Tunley, François Couperin and “The Perfection of Music” (Aldershot, 2004), pp. 157–61.

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Part II Bowed String Instruments in French Ensembles

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Chapter 3

Strings in French Ensembles Throughout the seventeenth century in France, the violin occupied a central role as an instrument for court entertainment. Its spritely character was highly desired for accompanying various forms of dance, from staged ballets to the royal bals. Along with viols, the instruments of the violin family served as core members of ensembles that took part in both sacred and secular occasions at court. The most famous ensemble of string instruments associated with the French court— the 24 Violons du Roi—was created in 1626 during the reign of Louis XIII. A formally established orchestra, this group and a smaller ensemble created in 1648 called the Petits Violons du Roi continued to exist during Jean-Baptiste Lully’s appointment as Surintendant et Compositeur de la Chambre du Roi beginning in 1661. Although the Petits Violons du Roi were disbanded around 1715, the 24 Violons du Roi continued to exist as a formally established orchestra in the king’s employ until 1761. The history of the organization of musical establishments at the French court attests to the considerable prestige the 24 Violons du Roi held throughout its existence.1 The length of its existence allows for study of the ensemble’s size and make-up, an area of considerable significance for the study of performance practice. Since few individual instrumental parts from seventeenthcentury performances have survived, archival records often provide the only evidence we have for reconstructing certain details about musical performances during the reign of Louis XIV. The distribution of parts within the 24 Violons du Roi is normally described as a five-part one during the seventeenth century, in which the outer parts—the dessus and the basses (which were also known as the basses de violon)—were equally distributed with six players each, and the three inner parts (called the parties de remplissage) were distributed with four players on each part. The inner parts were played on instruments tuned in the same manner as the modern viola (in fifths, c–g–d′–a′), but they were constructed in three different sizes: a relatively small haute-contre, a slightly larger taille de violon, and the still larger quinte de violon. Although the distribution and make-up of a five-part French ensemble

1   On the structure of music and ensembles at the French court in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, see James Anthony, French Baroque Music from Beaujoyeulx to Rameau, revised and expanded edition (Portland, OR, 1997), pp. 17–38. On the size, makeup, and history of French orchestras, see John Spitzer and Neal Zaslaw, The Birth of the Orchestra: History of an Institution, 1650–1815 (Oxford, 2004), especially Chapter 6, “The Orchestra in France,” pp. 180–212.

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has received considerable attention from modern scholars and performers,2 there remains much to be done with regard to discovering the dimensions and sound properties of the instruments themselves within the French five-part texture. It has proven difficult to reconstruct the instruments that play the three inner parts, since few, if any, instruments survive as models. Recent activity and exchange of information between instrument builders, players, and scholars holds promise for advances in this area, which will undoubtedly add significantly to our concept of the sonority of seventeenth-century French instrumental music.3 There were other French ensembles of strings in addition to the 24 Violons du Roi that constituted what we would call an “orchestra” today.4 Prior to the establishment of orchestras with a steady size and make-up, the employment of ensembles for theatrical productions tended to center around specific venues and their seasons. John Powell has demonstrated that an ensemble as small as three string instruments (possibly two violins and a basse de violon) were paid to perform during the 1659–1660 season at the Petit Bourbon in Paris. In the early 1660s, a group called the Troupe de Monsieur was formed for performances at Molière’s theatre (the Palais Royal), and this ensemble’s size increased gradually so that by 1664, the year that Lully’s music for Le Mariage forcé was performed, it included 12 strings, 2 oboes, and harpsichord.5 With payment records, daily account books, and other primary source material, it is possible to reconstruct many aspects of productions with which Molière was directly connected.6 2   Several ensembles have investigated, and in some cases adopted, the exact scoring of one of Lully’s ensembles. Perhaps the first to do so was La Petite Bande, directed by Sigiswald Kuijken, which was formed in the early 1970s. 3   See, for example, Diane Winkleby, “Violins from Versailles,” Early Music 38 (November, 2010): 634–5, in which the author reports on a conference sponsored by the Royal College of Music, the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, and the Institute of Musical Research on June 21–25, 2010. Violas of three sizes were constructed by luthiers Antoine Laulhère and Giovanna Chitto, and were played in ensembles that replicate the dimensions and instrumentation of the 24 Violons du Roi. 4   Whether a group of instruments, however large or diverse its make-up and proportions, constitutes an orchestra per se depends upon a number of factors, not all of which specifically concern the instruments themselves. Neal Zaslaw defines the parameters by which a large ensemble was recognized as an orchestra during the seventeenth century, including such factors as the group’s continued standing as an institution, central leadership, and presence of a core of string instruments and chordal continuo instruments. See his article, “When is an Orchestra not an Orchestra?” Early Music 16 (November, 1988): 483– 95, and by the same author, “Lully’s Orchestra,” in Jean-Baptiste Lully: Actes du colloque/ Kongreßbericht Saint-Germain-en-Laye—Heidelberg 1987, ed. Jérôme de La Gorce and Herbert Schneider (Laaber, 1990), pp. 539–79. 5   John S. Powell, “Musical Practices in the Theatre of Molière,” Revue de musicologie 82 (1996): 8. 6   Much of the recent research on Molière’s productions in the Théâtre du Palais Royal has been undertaken by John S. Powell and is reported in the article cited in the previous

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Viols and Violins in Seventeenth-Century France The histories of the viol and violin families are inescapably intertwined throughout the seventeenth century in France. The choice of which string instruments to choose for a specific work and how to double them were factors largely dependent upon the size of the venue, the carrying quality of the instruments in question, and the overall size and balance of the full ensemble. Ensembles of viols of various sizes existed alongside ensembles of violin-family instruments, and in many cases instruments of both families were combined within a single ensemble. For example, violins might be used on the upper and middle parts, with bass viols on the lower part. The principal differences between the two families of instruments are summarized in the entries in Antoine Furetière’s Dictionaire universel, published in 1690. Furetière’s descriptions are intended to offer concise general information and therefore omit certain important characteristics such the manner of holding the bow (overhand for the violin family and underhand for the viol family): VIOLIN. A portable musical instrument that has only four gut strings, whose neck is without frets, and which is played with a bow. There are three [body] parts as for other instruments, which are the belly, the neck, and the resonating body. It has two openings on the sides that are called sound holes and sometimes one above carved in the shape of a heart. Its bridge [which] is below the sound holes supports the strings that are attached to the lower end of the instrument with a small piece of wood called the tailpiece that is held by a button called the tirant. Its fingerboard is called the touche. Its high-pitched sounds are more gay and make more effect on the spirit than those of any other instrument, for which reason it has been named the King of instruments by some people. Its tuning is in fifths. The violin ensemble is composed of basse, hautecontre, tailles, and dessus, to which one can add a fifth part [i.e., the quinte]. Each part has [i.e., is tuned in] four fifths, which span two octaves and a major third. The violin is the instrument most proper for dancing and plays the dessus in concerts with other instruments. One also calls those players who play the instrument and who ordinarily are dancing masters “Violins” . The 24 Violins of the King are called the Great Band, or just the 24. VIOL. Musical instrument that is the same shape as the violin [sic] except that it is much larger and is played similarly with a bow, but it has six strings and eight

footnote. Powell also cites the contributing research of other scholars and modern editions such as George Houle, ed., Le Ballet des “Fâcheux”: Beauchamp’s Music for Molière’s Comedy (Bloomington, IN, 1991) and John S. Powell, Marc-Antoine Charpentier: Music for Molière’s Comedies (Madison, WI, 1990). Introduction to these editions also contain much valuable information about the performing forces and performance practices.

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music frets divided into semitones. It has a lower sound that is very quiet and pleasant. A viol ensemble is composed of four viols that play the four parts. (VIOLON. Instrument de Musique portatif, qui n’a que quatre cordes de boyau, dont le manche est sans touches, & dont on jouë avec un archet. Il a trois parties comme les autres instruments, sçavoir la table, le manche, & le corps resonnant. Il a deux ouvertures aux costez qui s’appellent ouyes; & quelquefois une en haut faite en forme de cœur. Son chevalet est au dessous des ouyes, qui porte les cordes qui sont attachées au bas de l’instrument à une petite piece de bois qu’on nomme la queuë, qui tient par un bouton qu’on nomme le tirant. Son manche s’appelle absolument la touche. Ses sons aigus sont plus gays, & font plus d’effet sur l’esprit que ceux de tous les autres instruments, dont il a été nommé le Roy par quelques-uns. Son accord est de quinte en quinte. Le jeu de violons est composé de basse, de hautecontre, de tailles & de dessus, à quoy on peut adjouster une cinquiéme partie. Chaque partie à quatre quintes, qui montent jusqu’à la dix-septiéme majeure. Le violon est l’instrument le plus propre pour faire danser, & tient le dessus dans les concerts où il ys a d’autres instruments. On appelle aussi Violons, ceux qui jouent de cet instrument, & qui d’ordinaire sont Maistres à danser. Les 24. Violons du Roy sont appellez la grande Bande, ou absolument les Vingt-quatre. VIOLE. Instrument de Musique qui est de même figure que le violon, à la reserve de ce qu’elle est beaucoup plus grande, & se touche de même avec un archet: mais elle a six cordes & huit touches divisées par demi-tons. Elle rend un son plus grave qui est fort doux & fort agreable. Un jeu de violes est composé de quatre violes, qui font les quatre parties.)7

Furetière’s general description of the violins and viols offers important distinctions in their sonorities that were expressed by other seventeenth-century French writers. As early as 1636, Marin Mersenne included the tuning, range, and manner of holding bowed string instruments in his Harmonie universelle, contenant la théorie et la pratique de la musique (Paris, 1636). Mersenne describes the sound of the 24 Violons du Roi as “ravishing” (ravissant) and “powerful” (puissant). His description of the violins also includes a valuable account of the three inner parts, confirming them as taille, haute-contre, and quinte, and indicating that each instrument is slightly different in size despite all being tuned the same way.8 Mersenne also notes that the violin is ideally suited for accompanying dancing, but that it is also capable of expressing passions and “the affections of body and

7   Antoine Furetière, Dictionaire [sic] universel, contenant generalement tous les mots françois… (The Hague and Rotterdam, 1690), vol. 3, article “Violon,” n.p., and “Viole,” n.p. 8   Marin Mersenne, Harmonie universelle, contenant la theorie et la pratique de la musique (Paris, 1636), quatriesme livre, p. 180.

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spirit” (les affections du corps & de l’esprit).9 He includes a five-part fantaisie composed by Henry le Jeune that demonstrates a “diminution” or ornamented version of the dessus part.10 Mersenne also includes a brief description of the smaller violin used by dancing masters called the pochette, and indicates that its four strings are tuned the same as those for the violin: g–d′–a′–e″. Echos of Mersenne’s and Furtière’s characterization of the violin as an instrument suited to dance music can be found slightly later in Sébastien de Brossard’s entry for the instrument in his Dictionaire de musique (Paris, 1703). He writes that the violin “has a natural sound [that is] very bright and gay, which makes it very proper for accompanying dance steps” (a le Son naturellement fort éclatant & fort gay, ce qui le rend tres-propre pour animer les pas de la danse).11 By the time his work was published, Italian violinists and their music were gaining acceptance in Parisian musical circles and, as he indicates, this trend supported increasing popularity of the violin and an appreciation for its expressive capabilities. He notes that, in addition to its traditional role in accompanying dance, there are ways of playing it that render the sound serious and sad, soft and tender, etc. It is this manner that is used so much in foreign music, whether for the Church, for the Chamber, or for the Theater, etc. (il y a des manieres de le toucher qui en rendent le Son grave & triste, doux & tendre etc. C’est ce qui fait qu’il est d’un si grand usage sur tout dans les Musiques étrangeres, soit pour l’Eglise, soit pour la Chambre, le Théatre, &c.)12

We can find additional evidence of the popularity of the violin in Paris during the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries in the increased production of engravings featuring the instrument. So-called “fashion” prints were brought out by several print publishers, such as Nicolas Arnoult and Nicolas Bonnart, who became known in particular for their prints of musical performers and of game playing. Two illustrations of Arnoult’s work show a young man as a court violinist (Figure 3.1) and a dancing master teaching a young lady to dance (Figure 3.2). The presence of a female assistant playing castanets appears to imply that the dancing master is teaching the young lady a lively dance. The verse for the latter print alludes to the young lady’s “noble and charming” demeanor, as is also evident from her elegant attire, and the verse also indicates that learning to dance will allow her to seek a young lover at the ball. Both prints are finely executed and demonstrate accurate playing positions for the violin and pochette; as such, 9



Ibid., p. 177. Ibid., pp. 186–9. 11 Brossard, Dictionaire [sic] de musique, article “Violino”, p. 247. 12 Ibid. 10

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

Figure 3.1

Nicolas Arnoult, Joueur de violon chez le Roy, engraving, late seventeenth century, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

Strings in French Ensembles

Figure 3.2

37

Nicolas Arnoult, Fille de qualité aprenant [sic] a danser, engraving, late seventeenth century, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

in addition to their intrinsic value as art works, we can appreciate them as useful documents for the study of performance practice.13 The Inner Parts (parties de remplissage) in French String Ensembles The parties de remplissage (or parties) in French ensembles fulfilled a largely harmonic function rather than a melodic one, but they also added richness and depth to the sonority of the string ensemble. The range of the upper part (hautecontre) was often high enough to fall within the violin’s range, but, as Muffat and other writers observed, it was considered preferable to play the part on an instrument of viola size rather than on the violin; it was also preferable to use a viola that was somewhat smaller than those used for the taille and quinte parts. This texture à la française also formed the core of larger orchestras such as that of the Académie Royale de Musique (known as the Opéra).14 In the eighteenth century, four-part texture became more common, and the quinte part was gradually suppressed. During Rameau’s operatic career (from 1733 to 1764), even though the inner parts normally consisted of the hautecontre and taille only, a five-part texture was still often present, since a division of the dessus parts was frequently used. As Jean Duron has shown, the tuning and distribution of the inner parts is confirmed by eighteenth-century theoretical sources, including Rameau’s Traité de l’harmonie (Paris, 1722).15 Near the middle of the eighteenth century, the term alto came into common usage. The earliest published instructions for playing the viola are found (somewhat paradoxically) in a treatise for the contrebasse by Michel Corrette.16 By the time this treatise was published (about 1781), significant changes had taken place in the use of violas in the orchestra, which are described by Corrette in the preface to his treatise. Corrette refers to the viola as the alto but notes that it formerly had three different names (haute-contre, taille, and quinte), and that (possibly as a holdover from 13   Further on French genre engravings showing musicians, see Catherine Massip, “Les personnanges musiciens dans les gravures de mode parisiennes de la fin du XVIIe siècle: intérêt et limites d’un genre iconographique,” Imago musicae 4 (1987): 137–50, and Albert Pomme de Mirimonde, L’iconographie musicale sous les rois Bourbons: la musique dans les arts plastiques (XVIIe–XVIIIe siècles), 2 vols (Paris, 1975), especially vol. 1, pp. 146–9. For an important recent study that includes French fashion prints, see Sarah R. Cohen, Art, Dance, and the Body in French Culture of the ancien régime (Cambridge, 2000). 14   For an example of five-part musical texture in an excerpt from one of Lully’s stage works, see Chapter 5, Example 5.2 in the section on Articulation (p. 71). 15   Jean Duron, “L’orchestre à cordes français avant 1715, nouveaux problèmes: les quintes de violon,” Revue de musicologie 70 (1984): 260–69. 16   Michel Corrette, Méthodes Pour apprendre à jouër de la Contre-Basse à 3. à 4. et à 5. cordes, de la Quinte ou Alto et de la Viole d’Orphée, nouvel instrument adjusté sur l’ancienne Viole… (Paris, [1781]), “De l’etendue de l’Alto,” pp. 18–19.

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the old terminology) even in his day it was sometimes called the quinte. He also notes that it had become customary to use a single clef (C3) for the alto part. Corrette’s advice on playing the viola refers to its traditional role as harmonic support, as for example in his recommendation that players abstain from adding ornamentation. He advises paying careful attention to learning to read the written part, since one needs “more head than fingers” (plus de teste que de doigts) to play the viola.17 He indicates that ornaments, particularly trills (cadences) were still rare on the viola; one could perform martellemens (mordents), ports-de-voix, and coulés (appoggiaturas and passing tones, the latter two marked with petites notes), but he advises that any such ornaments are best done on the top (a′) string.18 Even when the viola part falls within the compass of the violin, Corrette advises that it is better not to perform the part on the violin, because the larger-size instrument offers better balance with the violins and cellos. As we have seen, this advice had been part of French practice for nearly a century by the time Corrette included it in his treatise. The question of how the violons were distributed within French ensembles can be established within certain time frames, but it is often impossible to determine precisely how many players were used in a given performance. Individual performing parts from the seventeenth century, which may originally have included the names of musicians who played from them, no longer survive in most cases, and other documents usually lack precise details about the number of players in a given performance. For operatic productions, the printed livret often includes the names of musicians who performed in costume on stage, but not the individuals who performed in the orchestra. Likewise, pay records from the seventeenth century normally include only totals paid, not how many players performed each part. A few examples, to be discussed below, serve to illustrate both specific cases and general principles that can offer some assistance in determining the distribution of parts in French ensembles. Lully was appointed Compositeur de la Musique Instrumentale in 1653, and by 1661 at the age of 28, he became Surintendant de la Musique et Compositeur de la Musique de la Chambre. Within his direction fell responsibilities for the smaller ensemble called the petite bande as well as the grande bande (also known as the 24 Violons du Roi), of which he became director officially in 1664. A four-part oboe band (called the Grands Hautbois du Roi) also performed at celebrations both outdoors and indoors, and they read from parts notated in the same clefs as those for the strings (without the quinte part).19 Players from these groups could be combined for larger entertainments, when trumpets and timpani might also 17

  Ibid., p. 19.   Corrette gives further explanation and illustration of the performance of these three ornaments, ibid., p. 46. 19   On the woodwinds and how they functioned, see Rebecca Harris-Warrick, “From Score into Sound: Questions of Scoring in Lully’s Ballets,” Early Music 21 (August, 1993): 357. 18

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

be added. Records preserved in the État de la France demonstrate the guiding principle that is found in most French string ensembles during the Baroque era: the overall balance of parts is heavily distributed toward the outer parts (dessus and basse), and the prominence of these parts was further emphasized when they were doubled by woodwinds (oboes and bassoons). As Jérôme de La Gorce has shown, during the period 1692 to 1712, there was a slight shift in overall balance of parts toward greater emphasis on the outer parts. The shift was more noticeable in the grande bande, where for example the distribution of parts in 1692 to 1694 was 7–4–4–2–8 (for an actual total of 25 rather than 24 parts) as compared with 10–2–3–2–7 for the period 1708 to 1712. We can see that the dessus part had gained several players, whereas the inner parts (hautes-contre, tailles, and quintes) had in some cases decreased by about half.20 The reduction in inner parts by 1718 led to the demise of the quintes, leaving a four-part ensemble. The petits violons du Roi were a slightly smaller group of between 18 and 20 musicians whose five-part distribution was similar to that of the grands violons. (These figures represent only the string core of the orchestra.) At Saint-Germainen-Laye, where productions sometimes were exceptionally lavish, the orchestra Lully conducted consisted of a total of 77 musicians, 56 of whom played strings and the remaining 21, winds.21 In dramatic productions at court, some musicians were also employed to play instruments on stage (in costume), which sometimes gave them roles as participators in the dramatic action. Although the names of orchestral musicians did not normally figure in the printed livrets for Lully’s tragédies, the names of those musicians who participated on stage were normally printed in the livrets.22 With detailed study of many livrets from Lully’s productions at the court theater at Saint-Germain-en-Laye between 1675 and 1682, Jérôme de La Gorce has demonstrated that some of the productions included many costumed musicians. For example, a 1671 production of Lully’s Psyché, a tragédie-ballet that included 20   For a table of distribution of parts in the grands violons and petits violons at various periods between 1636 and 1718, see Jérôme de La Gorce, “Some Notes on Lully’s Orchestra,” in Jean-Baptiste Lully and the Music of the French Baroque: Essays in Honor of James R. Anthony, ed. John Hajdu Heyer (Cambridge, 1989), Table 3, p. 111. For other significant investigations on the size and distribution of Lully’s orchestra, see Zaslaw, “When is an Orchestra not an Orchestra?”, p. 541; C.-L. Cudworth, “Baptist’s Vein: French Orchestral Music and Its Influence from 1650 to 1750,” PRMA 83 (1956–1957): 29–47; and Jürgen Eppelsheim, Das Orchester in den Werken Jean-Baptiste Lullys (Tutzing, 1961). For a convenient table of the relative sizes of the petit choeur and grand choeur at the Opéra between 1704 and 1719, see Caroline Wood, “Orchestra and Spectacle in the tragédie en musique 1673–1715: Oracle, sommeil and tempête,” PRMA 108 (1981–1982): 27. 21   La Gorce, “Some Notes on Lully’s Orchestra,” p. 111. 22   La Gorce indicates that performers’ names were rarely included on printed livrets during Louis XIV’s reign, although there were a few exceptions as late as 1704, when the livret for Lully’s Isis still bore the names of some of the musicians who performed. See ibid., p. 103.

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some spoken dialogue, included more than a hundred musicians taking part on stage. These on-stage roles were assigned to both wind and string players. La Gorce observes that instruments were often chosen for their timbral associations: flutes or musettes with pastoral scenes, oboes or trumpets with military scenes, and (somewhat surprisingly) string instruments with exotic or mythological scenes. Theorbo, bass viol, and basse de violon players occasionally also participated in roles that provided color and special timbres that were related to the action on stage.23 At the Paris Opéra, similar principles of distribution were also in place, with the violins being the most numerous instruments in the orchestra. The number of violins grew slightly at the Opéra during the early eighteenth century, from 12 in 1704 to 14 in 1713, and to 16 in 1719.24 For the entire period of Rameau’s operatic career (1733–1764), the number of dessus remained relatively constant at about 16 players. During the same period, woodwinds (flutes and oboes) also remained constant at five or six,25 to which four (or sometimes five) bassoons were added. By 1733, the favored choice of basse continue instruments was the cello and contrebasse, and they remained so well into the 1760s for Rameau’s entire career. Lists of personnel show that for the three decades from 1730 to 1760 both the size of the Opéra orchestra and the number of string players remained virtually unchanged.26 An archival document from 1751 provides a representative total number of 46 musicians for the Opéra orchestra, including 34 strings, 11 winds, and 1 harpsichord.27 Another typical inventory from 1754 gives a total of 46 members: 16 violins, 6 violas (quintes), 11 basses, 1 harpsichord, 1 contrebasse, 5 oboes and flutes, 4 bassoons, 1 trumpet, and 1 timpani. Of the 11 basses, 3 were 23

  Ibid., pp. 106–7.   These statistics were collected and reported by Jérôme de La Gorce, “L’Orchestre de l’Opéra et son évolution de Campra à Rameau,” Revue de musicologie 76 (1990): 26 and 30. He provides a table on p. 26 that gives precise figures for many dates within this period. 25   It is worth recalling that, during the first half of the eighteenth century, flute and oboe parts were often played by the same players at the Opéra, which explains why these two instruments are almost never found together in the same airs. Statistics that give the total number of instruments in an ensemble can therefore be misleading when one takes into account the doublings by players. Other doublings depended on the abilities of certain players. For example, Placide Caraffe, a violinist, also played the timbales at the Opéra in 1704, a percussion instrument required in military marches or tempests. (La Gorce, “L’Orchestre de l’Opéra et son évolution de Campra à Rameau,” p. 33.) 26   Paul-Marie Masson, L’Opéra de Rameau (Paris, 1930), p. 513 gives the membership of the French orchestra as 46 players in 1713, 49 in 1745, 47 in 1756, and 47 in 1769. 27   Graham Sadler, “Rameau and the Orchestra,” PRMA 108 (1981–1982): 48. The document Sadler quotes is an État Général for the Académie Royale de Musique dated April 1, 1750 (Paris, Archives nationales AJ xiii 1 [iv]). See also, by the same author, “Rameau’s Singers and Players at the Paris Opéra: A Little-Known Inventory of 1738,” Early Music 11 (October, 1983): 453–67 for a comparison of other records of the total number of performers. 24

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members of the petit choeur and 8 belonged to the grand choeur.28 The number of contrebasse players was increased to two from 1738 on. The petit choeur and grand choeur in French Ensembles Thus far, we have considered the total number of players in French ensembles that performed at court and at the Opéra, and the distribution of string players within those ensembles. Within the larger group of strings, a smaller group was assigned to play in certain designated portions of an opera.29 Throughout the period that saw productions of Lully’s works until at least the middle of the eighteenth century, French ensembles assigned the small group of musicians to function as a petit choeur that played certain airs and recitatives not assigned to the full group, which was called the grand choeur. In Lully’s work, the members of the petit choeur were mainly responsible for realizing and executing the basse continue. After Lully’s death, a few treble instrument (a pair of violins and flutes) also joined the petit choeur, accompanying soloists when a lighter accompaniment was required in some airs or accompanied recitative. The convention of dividing an ensemble into a petit choeur and a grand choeur added dynamic contrast that is similar to tutti-solo contrast, and it also allowed the possibility of accompanying soloists in more thinly scored pieces, which possibly needed the close co-ordination of a few players, thus requiring the petit choeur. Recent research has demonstrated that the size of the petit choeur remained relatively constant (or grew only slightly) between 1704 and 1764, although there were a few changes in specific bass instruments within its membership. In 1704, the petit choeur consisted of nine musicians: two violins, one harpsichord, two theorboes, two basses de viole, and two basses de violon (including one contrebasse).30 At this point, woodwinds were not part of the petit 28   Claude Parfaict [Antoine de Léris], Dictionnaire portatif des théâtres (Paris, 1754), pp. xxx–xxxi. 29   For a valuable survey of how the viol and cello were used in French ensembles throughout the Baroque period, see Julie Anne Sadie, “Bowed Continuo Instruments in French Baroque Chamber Music,” PRMA 105 (1978–1979): 37–49. Further on the role of the keyboard instrument and where it very likely remained silent in operatic performances, see Chapter 8 in this book, p. 133. 30   La Gorce, “L’Orchestre de l’Opéra et son évolution de Campra à Rameau,” p. 25; for a table summarizing these figures, see Graham Sadler, “The Orchestral French Cantata (1706–1730): Performance, Edition, and Classification of a Neglected Repertory,” in Aspects of the Secular Cantata in Late Baroque Italy, ed. Michael Talbot (Aldershot, 2009), Table 9.1, p. 241. La Gorce and Sadler show a tenth (contrebasse) player who may have joined the petit choeur at certain times, however it is equally possible that, when that instrument was first introduced, an existing member of the ensemble doubled on it. Since this possibility appears more likely, I have eliminated the tenth player from the figures provided here.

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choeur, but from about 1713 on their presence is indicated in personnel records.31 As Jérôme de La Gorce has shown, the number of players in the petit choeur of the Opéra orchestra remained quite constant in the first quarter of the eighteenth century. For the chordal realization of the basse continue, two theorboes had traditionally belonged to the petit choeur, and their number was reduced to only one about 1725; not long after that date, the theorboes were eliminated altogether. The remainder of the petit choeur consisted of one harpsichord, two basses de viole, and two basses de violon (or violoncelles). After 1725, the number of basses de violon in the petit choeur was increased to three. By the middle of the eighteenth century, the petit choeur consisted solely of basse continue instruments: harpsichord, three basses de violon (or violoncelles) and one contrebasse. The meaning of terms such as basse de violon and violoncelle in French eighteenthcentury scores and writings poses some difficulties in interpretation that will be explored further in the following chapter.

  These figures for the membership of the petit choeur are based on research by Jérôme de La Gorce, as reported in “L’Académie Royale de Musique en 1704, d’après des documents inédits conservés dans les archives notariales,” Revue de musicologie 65 (1979), pp. 182–3, derived from names written on original performing material as well as other primary sources. 31

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Chapter 4

Bass Instruments of the Violin and Viol Families in Solo and Ensemble Roles The basse de violon Prior to the adoption of the violoncelle in French opera, chamber music, and as a solo instrument during the eighteenth century, several bass instruments of different sizes and tunings were used, all of which were called basses de violon. By the middle of the eighteenth century, the older term basse de violon had become synonymous with violoncelle, but basse de violon originally covered several bass instruments of different sizes and tunings belonging to the violin family. The oldest and most common basse de violon was larger than the presentday cello, had four strings, and was tuned in fifths: B′@–F–c–g (a tone lower than normal cello tuning). Both Philibert Jambe de Fer and Marin Mersenne describe an instrument of this size and tuning,1 and, as Eric Halfpenny observes, the Parisian violin maker Jean Hurel cites the same instrument in a table of 1701.2 Although it was certainly obsolete by the middle of the eighteenth century, Diderot still included it in a table of instruments and tunings for the Encyclopédie (Paris, 1751–1772).3 Owing to its large body size, the basse de violon was capable of producing a deep, resonant sound, making it an excellent foundation for Lully’s orchestra, where it often shared the bass line with viols. In Lully’s operas, the bass line frequently descends to B′@ and never goes beyond f′, a comfortable range for this instrument. It is the basse de violon to which Muffat refers in his famous account of the French Opéra orchestra in 1698, although his description of the instrument as a “small French bass” (petite basse à la française) is one example of the terminological problems that arise from the use of several different names for bass instruments around 1700. He notes that the Italians call the small French bass a violoncino (i.e., a small violone), and that “it does not seem possible to dispense

1   P. Jambe de Fer, Epitome musical des tons, sons et accordz (Lyons, 1556), p. 62; Marin Mersenne, Harmonie universelle, contenant la theorie et la pratique de la musique (Paris, 1636), livre quatriesme, p. 184. 2   Eric Halfpenny, “Diderot’s Tunings for the Violin Family,” Galpin Society Journal 27 (1974): 18. 3   Ibid., pp. 15–16. Diderot gives the improbable tuning B′@–F–g for this instrument, which he classes with the contrebasse. Halfpenny suggests that the tuning he intended was probably B′@–F–c–g.

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

with this instrument without thereby distorting the proportions of the harmony.”4 The basse de violon gradually declined with the increasing use of the contrebasse in France and also with the advent of solo literature for the violoncelle, and many players had their instruments converted to the smaller and more fashionable cello. Another type of basse de violon appears to have found favor in the Opéra orchestra in the years preceding the arrival of the violoncelle. This basse de violon was a five-string cello tuned, apart from the addition of a d′ string, like the modern instrument: C–G–d–a–d′. According to the Histoire de la musique of BonnetBourdelot, the well-known Florentine player and composer Théobaldo di Gatti (Jean Théobalde di Gatti) played this instrument in Lully’s orchestra.5 Théobalde arrived in Paris in 1675 or 1676 and, according to Titon du Tillet, “Lully received him with much pleasure. He put him in the opera orchestra, having recognized his ability to play music on the basse de violon” (Lully le reçut avec beaucoup d’amitié; il le plaça dans l’Orchestre de l’Opera, ayant connu sa capacité pour l’execution de la Musique sur la Basse de Violon).6 As a viol player and teacher of that instrument in Paris, Théobalde may have played both instruments at the Opéra. In 1676, he appeared on-stage in a performance of Atys as a viol player, and his name is found in the État de la France as a basse de violon player in 1713 and 1719. He also composed, and his Coronis and Scylla were performed in 1691 and 1701.7 It is not known how extensively the viol was employed, since it is rarely identified as distinct from the basse de violon or violoncelle. As late as 1780, La Borde recalls that, in the early part of the century, a five-string cello with the same tuning was introduced by a certain Père Tardieu de Tarascon, who played it well. Some 15 or 20 years later, he claims, the four-string instrument came into general use.8 Throughout the first quarter of the eighteenth century, several types of bass instruments of different sizes and tunings played together in the Paris Opéra orchestra. Jean Duron cites several passages from the works of Marc-Antoine 4   Georg Muffat, Florilegium secundum (Passau, 1698), translated by David K. Wilson in Georg Muffat on Performance Practice (Bloomington and Indianapolis, IN, 2001), p. 46. 5   Jacques Bonnet and Pierre Bourdelot, Histoire de la musique, et de ses effets, depuis son origine jusqu’à présent, et en quoi consiste sa beauté (Amsterdam, 1725), vol. 2, p. 52. 6   Évrard Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françois (Paris: Jean-Baptiste Coignard Fils, 1732), p. 621. 7   Further on the career and performances of Théobalde, see Jérôme de La Gorce, “L’Académie Royale de Musique en 1704, d’après des documents inédits conservés dans les archives notariales,” Revue de musicologie 65 (1979): 180–81. 8   J. B. de La Borde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne (Paris, 1780), vol. 1, p. 309, “Le P. Tardieu, de Tarascon, frere d’un célebre Maître de Chapelle de Provence, l’imagina, vers le commencement de ce siecle; il le monta de cinq cordes, ainsi accordées [C–G–d–a–d′ tuning]. Il fit une prodigieuse fortune avec cet instrument, dont il jouait bien. Quinze ou vingt ans après, on réduisit le Violoncelle à quartre cordes, en lui ôtant sa chanterelle re.”

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Charpentier, Jean-Baptiste Stück, and Jean-Baptiste Matho in which special effects are accomplished in large works by splitting the bass part into several real parts (as many as four bass parts).9 For example, in Matho’s opera Arion (1714), four different bass instruments are specified in a storm scene in Act III. The bass line is notated on four staves for basses de viole, basses de violon à cinq cordes, basses de violon à quatre cordes, and basses de violon à l’octave. On the lower line, the names of two contrebasse players are also indicated (“Mr de Monteclair” and “Mr Theobald”).10 This particular passage, which may be unique in the literature, appears to be intended to take full advantage of the different sonorities and carrying power of each of the bass instruments, since each one is assigned a separate part. The Viols Whereas the violins formed the core of string ensembles used for courtly entertainment during the seventeenth century, viol consorts were heard primarily in private concerts. Albert Cohen has shown that a large repertoire of polyphonic fantaisie for viols was written by composers such as Jacques Maudit, Eustache Du Caurroy, and Claude Le Jeune. The fantaisies of Louis Couperin found in the Bauyn manuscript may also have been intended for viols with organ (or harpsichord).11 Most of these fantaisies were written for consorts of no more than three viols, a combination that retained favor in private concerts during the late seventeenth century. Titon du Tillet describes concerts of three viols (two basses and one treble) given by Sainte-Colombe with his two daughters.12 Other performers who became well known as treble viol players include Louis Couperin13 and, according to Jean Rousseau, “the late Mr Camus,” whose “beauty and tenderness” of expression was unmatched on the instrument.14 A significant 9 Jean Duron, “L’orchestre à cordes français avant 1715, nouveaux problèmes: les quintes de violon,” Revue de musicologie 70 (1984): 260. 10 An excerpt from the music for this passage is quoted in Mary Cyr, “Basses and basse continue in the orchestra of the Paris Opéra, 1700–1764,” Early Music 10 (1982): 160–61. 11 Albert Cohen, “The Instrumental Ensemble in 17th-Century France—Its Origin and Significance,” Musical Quarterly 48 (April, 1962): 240–41. For the shelf number and location of the Bauyn manuscript, see the present Bibliography (Manuscripts and Archival Sources); Louis Couperin’s fantaisies are entered on fols 24’ and 25’. 12 Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françoise, p. 624. 13 André Pirro, “Louis Couperin,” La Revue musicale 1:4 (1920): 146–7. 14 Jean Rousseau, Traité de la viole (Paris, 1687), p. 72: “feu Monsieur Le Camus, qui excelloit à un point dans le Jeu de Dessus de Viole, que le seul souvenir de la beauté & de la tendresse de son execution efface tout ce que l’on a entendu jusqu’à present sur cét instrument.”

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body of music for voices with obbligato treble viol parts from the latter part of the seventeenth century was composed by Marc-Antoine Charpentier for the musicians in the Guise household.15 Charpentier also employs the bass viol as an obbligato instrument in both secular and sacred pieces, and his sonata for eight instruments (two transverse flutes, two violins, bass viol, five-string cello, harpsichord, and theorbo) is soloistic at times.16 However, there are also examples in Charpentier’s music of four-part texture à l’italienne with French violin clef (G1), and soprano (C1), mezzo-soprano (C2), and bass (F4) clefs. Despite the Italianate character of Charpentier’s music and the range of the parts in G1 and C1 lying within the violin’s range, the use of C clefs for the inner parts appears to indicate in such cases that the inner parts were intended for instruments tuned as violas (haute-contre de violon and taille de violon). The bass viol was much appreciated for its remarkable tone qualities, an evenness of sonority throughout its entire range, and an ability to produce chords. These features made it a natural choice for solo music, and in the hands of a fine player it was capable of producing harmony even when unaccompanied; it was therefore revered in a manner similar to the lute. The treble viol was also valued for its expressive qualities, especially in melodic playing, where its tender and delicate affect was much appreciated. Several collections of solo music for treble viol were published during the first quarter of the seventeenth century, beginning with Louis Heudelinne’s Trois suites de pieces a deux violes qui se peuvent joüer sur le clavessin & sur le violon, in which the composer aims to demonstrate the “tender and brilliant” (tendre et brillant) qualities of the treble viol.17 Certain pieces by Heudelinne rival the rich expressiveness of solo music for the bass viol by Jacques Morel and even Marin Marais. After 1720, the treble viol was gradually replaced by the pardessus de viole and also lost some ground owing to the concurrent rise in popularity of the violin.18 Apart from its important role as a bass instrument in Lully’s ensemble and at the Opéra until about 1730, the bass viol was also the instrument of choice as 15   See Shirley Thompson, “Marc-Antoine Charpentier and the Viol,” Early Music 32 (November, 2004): 505. Charpentier’s patroness, Marie de Lorraine, was known as Mademoiselle de Guise. See Patricia Ranum, “A Sweet Servitude: A Musician’s Life at the Court of Mlle de Guise,” Early Music 15 (August, 1987): 346–60, and Adrian P. Rose, “Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s Première Leçon du Vendredy Saint: An Important Source of Music for the Solo Treble Viol,” Chelys, 13 (1984): 47–60, in which the author discusses sacred works by Charpentier and Nicolas-Antoine Lebègue from the 1670s and 1680s with obbligato treble viol. 16   Julie Anne Sadie, “Charpentier and the Early French Ensemble Sonata,” Early Music 7 (July, 1979): 330–35. 17   Louis Heudelinne, Trois suites de pieces a deux violes qui se peuvent joüer sur le clavessin & sur le violon (Paris, 1701), dedication, n.p. 18   Further on the pardessus de viole and its repertoire, see the studies by Robert A. Green and Richard Sutcliffe in the Bibliography.

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a partner for the harpsichord (or organ or theorbo) in chamber music during the same period. With the addition of a low seventh string in the late seventeenth century, an innovation that Jean Rousseau credited to Sainte-Colombe,19 the bass viol was capable of adding firm harmonic support to the five-part string ensemble. Its expanded range also provided for more chordal and melodic possibilities that contributed to its use as a solo instrument, both unaccompanied and with basse continue. The fifty years between about 1680 and 1730 represent the period during which most of the solo music for the bass viol was published in France.20 Even when the cello began to replace the basse de viole in chamber ensembles, the viol still held a place as a solo instrument. Jean-Baptiste Forqueray published one of the last collections of virtuoso solo music for the instrument as late as 1747.21 Two treatises for the viol by Danoville and Jean Rousseau, both published in 1687, form the basis for our understanding of the technique of the basse de viole. Of these two works, the one by Danoville, entitled L’art de toucher le dessus et basse de violle (Paris, 1687) is much briefer than Rousseau’s. Danoville considers four topics: the way the left hand is held; an explanation of the scale and notes within the viol’s range; an explanation of the notes both in staff notation and in tablature; and an explanation of the ornaments and signs used in viol playing. The title of Danoville’s treatise indicates that it was intended both for the bass and treble viols, although most of his instructions are directed toward the bass. In his preface, he refers to the viol as the primary instrument because of “its divine harmony, its sweetness and continuous sound” (sa divine harmonie, … sa douceur, & son son continu).22 His praise for Monsieur de Sainte-Colombe as an outstanding player and teacher of the viol suggests that Danoville may have studied with him, but virtually all that is known about Danoville is that he lived in Paris and held the title of Escuyer. A significant portion of Danoville’s treatise is devoted to explaining staff notation, tablature, note values, and ways of tuning the viol. In the last portion of his treatise, he explains the manner of performing ornaments and the meaning of other marks such as the balancement de main, the tenuë, couché de doigt, and the names for the two bow directions (poussez and tirez, marked p and t respectively).23 By comparison with Danoville’s treatise, that of Jean Rousseau, entitled Traité de la viole, is far more comprehensive. In its 151 pages, the author covers the history of the viol, the fundamentals of notation, playing and holding the instrument, and,  Rousseau, Traité de la viole, p. 24.   See the list of manuscripts and published music for 1, 2, and 3 viols and basse continue in Hans Bol, La basse de viole du temps de Marin Marais et d’Antoine Forqueray, Utrechtse Bijdragen tot de Muziekwetenschap, 7 (Bilthoven, 1973), pp. 21–4 and 332–3. 21   Further on the contributions of Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, see the composer profile in Chapter 12. 22  Danoville, L’art de toucher le dessus et basse de violle (Paris, 1687), p. 3. 23  Danoville, L’art de toucher, pp. 39–47. Further on each of these marks, see Part III, Chapter 7 on Ornamentation and Special Effects. 19 20

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Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music

perhaps most importantly, the different roles it plays in various types of music. Rousseau also acknowledges his debt to Sainte-Colombe in a lengthy dedication, where he mentions the “fine carriage of the left hand” (beau port de main) that he taught and how significant Sainte-Colombe was in contributing to the high regard in which the instrument was held. In a section entitled Dissertation sur l’origine de la Viole, Rousseau also acknowledges the viol’s indebtedness to English music and players. Among his contemporaries, he mentions [Nicolas] Hotman, SainteColombe, and Marin Marais, and he credits Hotman with establishing the manner of holding the left hand, Sainte-Colombe with adding the seventh string to the bass viol and strings wound in silver, and Marais with a singular execution that exceeded that of all previous players.24 Rousseau covers the history and technique of the viol in four parts. The first one is devoted to holding the bow and the instrument, tuning the viol, and an explanation of fingering, including enharmonically equivalent notes that are played on the same fret (such as A# and B@). Like Danoville, he also includes an explanation of tablature notation, which had probably been carried over to the viol from the lute. At several points in his discussion, Rousseau mentions (but does not name) the author of an avertissement, whose explanations about the technique of the viol were opposed to Rousseau’s own and, he claims, to those of other masters of the viol. The most serious of these differences of opinion concerned the way the left hand should be held (the port du main). As François Lesure has shown, this disagreement arose between the viol player and composer Demachy and Rousseau, and was largely a product of rivalry between these two writers.25 Despite the vehement expression of disagreement, the differences in left-hand position appear to have been relatively slight, and the disagreement had little lasting influence. One of the most important contributions of Rousseau’s treatise is his explanation of the different ways of using the viol (which he calls its jeux), and the character of each. In this section (part 2 of his treatise), he also explains the use of tenuës (holding down of left-hand fingers in order to continue the sound after a note has been played). The four manners of playing the viol he describes are the jeu de melodie, jeu de l’harmonie, jeu de l’accompagnement, and travailler sur un sujet, the latter being an improvisatory way of playing variations on a subject which, he claims, was used infrequently. He also includes a brief discussion of the treble viol and its character. Rousseau’s explanation of the three types of viol playing—melody, harmony, and accompaniment—form the foundation of the instrument’s technique. As one might expect, the jeu de melodie is the most easily learned manner of playing, since it consists of a single-line melody which Rousseau describes as “very 24  Rousseau, Traité de la viole, pp. 24–5. The Dissertation sur l’origine de la viole is found on pp. 1–25. 25   Ibid., pp. 29–32. See also François Lesure, “Une querelle sur le jeu de la viole en 1688: J. Rousseau contre Demachy,” Revue de musicologie 46 (December, 1960): 181–99.

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agreeable and even very expressive” (fort agreable & meme fort touchant) when one plays airs alone on the bass or the treble viol.26 The jeu de l’harmonie demands more practice and a greater knowledge of harmony, and can be read either from tablature or staff notation. In this manner of playing, Rousseau indicates that it is especially important to observe the tenuës, by which one holds onto notes that remain important to the harmony after sounding them, both for good left-hand position and also to produce a sonority that is rich and full. The length to which Rousseau goes in discussing this type of playing suggests that it represents the basis of solo playing on the viol, and that he intended his advice to be pertinent for composers as well as players. On the other hand, the jeu de l’accompagnement, according to Rousseau, is the most necessary of all the styles of playing, and he emphasizes that it takes great skill to accompany well, since this responsibility goes well beyond simply keeping time.27 Less difficult than playing solo pieces, accompanying nevertheless requires entering into the spirit of a composition and using full bow strokes (grands coups d’Archet), playing softer when the other instruments and voices require it, and imitating the upper parts on occasion. In the context of his remarks, imitation in this case apparently refers to using similar ornaments, as befits the character of the piece. For the treble viol, Rousseau recommends holding the instrument between the knees (in contrast to Danoville, who describes it as being held on the legs), and he describes a similar left-hand formation to that of the bass viol, with the exception that the left-hand thumb is held behind the first finger instead of behind the second finger.28 Both ways of holding the treble viol can be found in iconographical sources, although holding it between the knees was probably the more prevalent manner and certainly more secure. Figure 4.1, an engraving by Nicolas Bonnart entitled Dame qui jouë de la viole en chantant is one of several prints of female musicians playing the treble viol, in this case as an accompaniment to her own voice. Rousseau indicates that the jeu de melodie is the treble viol’s principal style, and that one executes all the usual ornaments that voices and treble instruments use, such as the cadence and port de voix. Lastly, he appears to give some evidence of the growing rivalry between the treble viol and the violin when he warns that one should avoid the “running passages from top to bottom and from bottom to top” (passages du haut en bas, & du bas en haut) that are used in violin playing. He indicates that the proper character of the violin is to animate (animer), whereas the character of the treble viol is to flatter (flater).29 The remainder of Rousseau’s treatise is largely devoted to an explanation of ornaments and rules for bowing.

 Rousseau, Traité de la viole, p. 57.   Ibid., pp. 66–7. 28   Ibid., p. 71. 29   Ibid., p. 73. 26 27

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Figure 4.1

Nicolas Bonnart (c. 1637–1718), Dame qui jouë de la viole en chantant, engraving, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

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The contrebasse A string instrument larger than the basse de viole or the basse de violon appears to have been known in France well before it was introduced at the Opéra (around 1700), but its name did not remain constant, and even its tuning remains something of a mystery. On the one hand, isolated examples of instruments with names such as basse-contre de viole or double basse-contre de viole exist as early as the mid-sixteenth century, but terminology is far from precise at this stage, and the instruments in question may not be equivalent to those that were later described as the contrebasse.30 Size is only one factor in determining how the largest of the string instruments functioned; tuning, number of strings, the manner of holding and bowing the instrument, and, perhaps most importantly, whether it functioned at 16-foot pitch (an octave below the written bass line) are all factors that need to be considered. The weight of evidence appears to fall on the side of the contrebasse, a 16-foot instrument, having been introduced first as a special effect at the Paris Opéra. Nevertheless, there are also some anecdotal accounts of large bass instruments existing much earlier in France. One of the earliest theoretical references to a string instrument of contrebasse size is that of Marin Mersenne, who indicates in his Harmonie universelle (Paris, 1636) that a concert for Queen Marguerite featured bass viols large enough to hide young pages in them; “[they] sang the Dessus in several delightful airs, while the player of the bass line sang the taille part in order to produce a three-part air” ([ils ont chanté] le Dessus de plusieurs airs ravissans, tandis que celuy qui touche la Basse chante la Taille, afin de faire un concert à trois parties).31 Mersenne speaks of these instruments as if they were nearly impossible to play owing to their large size, and he adds (fancifully, one may assume) that they “can be made seven or eight feet tall, if one has arms long enough to play them, or if one uses some device to supplement the movement of the fingers of the left hand or the bow hand” (l’on puisse les faire de sept ou huict (sic) pieds, si l’on a les bras assez grands pour en jouer, ou si l’on use de quelque artifice qui puisse suppleer le mouvement des doigts de la main gauche, ou de celle qui tient l’archet).32 Mersenne’s account may be apocryphal, and in any case the tuning of an instrument this large remains a mystery. The lowest tuning he gives for the viol is identical to that of the bass viol (D–G–c–e–a–d′), and he does not indicate whether the larger instrument sounded at 16-foot pitch. In his Traité de la viole (Paris, 1687), Jean Rousseau also mentions the existence of a large five-string viol used for accompanying, but the 30

  On the earliest references to the largest member of the violin and viol families, see Michael D. Greenberg, “Perfecting the Storm: The Rise of the Double Bass in France, 1701–1815,” The Online Journal of Bass Research 1 (July, 2003), www.ojbr.com/vol1no1. html, para. 2.2. Greenberg also cites sixteenth-century engravings that show five-string viols played in a standing position: see para. 2.3. 31  Mersenne, Harmonie universelle, livre quatriesme, p. 192. 32   Ibid., livre quatriesme, pp. 192–3.

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context of his remark suggests that it was no longer in use.33 He does not provide a tuning for such an instrument. In 1697, François Raguenet reports hearing basses de violon twice as large as French ones in concerts he attended in Rome, in which they added significant depth and support to the ensemble, but he claims that they were not used at that time in France.34 Five years later, Brossard confirms that such an instrument was known and that he too admired it as support for large choruses, but that it was still little used. He also provides confirmation that the instrument sounded at 16-foot pitch and was considerably larger than the basse de violon. A few more specific details about the way the contrebasse was used at the Paris Opéra can be surmised from accounts of Michel Pignolet de Montéclair’s presence there as a player. Titon du Tillet reports that Montéclair was the first player of the contrebasse,35 and that the instrument had “a huge effect in choruses, in the airs of magicians and demons, and in tempests” (fait un si grand effet dans les Choeurs & dans les Airs de Magiciens, de Démons & dans ceux des Tempête).36 Montéclair joined the Opéra orchestra in 1699 after having spent a period of time in Italy. Montéclair became a member of the petit choeur at the Opéra and remained on the payment records there as a basse de violon player until his retirement in 1737. From the records of his service, it appears likely that Montéclair was employed principally as a cellist to play in the petit choeur, and that from about 1700 on he also began to play the contrebasse for special effects, such as tempests. Such doubling would have been possible for him, since he is known to have owned an Italian contrebasse made in Naples, two cellos, and a taille de violon.37 Montéclair’s own contrebasse, being of Neapolitan origin, very likely was a violin-family instrument, but other evidence suggests that some contrebasse players continued to perform on viol-shaped instruments. A list of instruments belonging to the Opéra by the French maker Nicolas Bertrand listed 33  Rousseau, Traité de la viole, p. 19: “Les premiers Violes dont on a joüé en France estoient à cinq cordes & fort grandes, leur usage estoit d’accompagner…” 34   François Raguenet, Parallèle des Italiens et des Français en ce qui regarde la musique et les opéras (Paris, 1702), pp. 105–7: “leurs Basses de violon sont une fois plus grosses que les nôtres…”. 35   La Gorce, “L’Académie Royale de Musique,” p. 181. Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françois, pp. 696–7. See Maurice Barthélemy, “Théobalde di Gatti et la Tragédie en Musique Scylla…”, Recherches sur la musique française classique 9 (1969): 57. 36   Évrard Titon du Tillet, Suite du Parnasse François jusqu’en 1743 (Paris, n.d.), pp. 696–7, “Montéclair se fit connoitre à Paris vers l’an 1700. [I]l entra dans l’Orchestre de l’Opera, où il fut le premier qui y joua de la Contrebasse.” 37   Greenberg, “Perfecting the Storm,” para. 3.2, quotes the Annonces, affiches et avis divers for 23 September 1756, p. 595, in which “[une] très-bonne Contre-basse de Naples, fort ancienne laquelle a ci-devant appartenu à M. Monteclair” was advertised for sale after the death of M. Marchand, Ordinaire de l’Académie Royale de Musique. See also Sylvette Milliot, “Testament de Michel Pignolet de Montéclair,” Recherches sur la musique française classique 8 (1968): 133. In his will, Montéclair left all of his musical instruments (which are not further described) to the luthier Claude Boivin.

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two six-string contrebasses in 1767,38 a somewhat puzzling indication that may imply that the instruments were contrabass viols rather than contrabass violins. Coincidentally, the very pieces in which the contrebasse is reported to have participated are those in which the harpsichord was normally silent, such as choruses and purely instrumental movements.39 The possibility that the contrebasse was used to reinforce the bass line when the keyboard instrument was absent is an avenue of research that has not yet been adequately investigated. It appears unlikely that the contrebasse would have been considered a member of the petit choeur or that it would have participated in any but the more heavily scored movements, at least until it became a regular member of the basse continue section after about 1738. One of the most influential scenes in establishing the importance of the contrebasse was the storm in Act IV, scene 4 of Marais’s opera, Alcione (1706). The contrebasse is called upon to add rhythmic and metric accentuation with a pulsating eighth-note bass line, while the basses de violon play repeated sixteenth notes. The printed (reduced) score published by Ballard shows the tempest on three staves (see Figure 4.2), labelled from the top “Violons,” “Basse de Violons,” and “Bassons et Basse continue.” The lowest staff also bears the notation “Contre Basse.” The introduction of the contrebasse and divided parts for the grand choeur were features that were widely imitated in subsequent tempests and other scenes that introduced special scenic effects.40 Very few contrebasse parts are found among the large number of orchestral parts that survive from eighteenth-century performances. Those parts that do survive demonstrate that it became standard practice for the contrebasse to play a part that was not identical to that of the basse de violon but instead furnished rhythmic accentuation on downbeats and added harmonic support. Such harmonic support often involved some recomposition of the bass line in order to play metrically stressed notes and even altering certain pitches. Even though few examples of contrebasse parts survive from the early eighteenth century, we can assume that players such as Montéclair and Saggione, who were skilled composers themselves, were particularly adept at adjusting contrebasse parts at sight. The contrebasse parts (or fragments thereof) that do survive demonstrate without question that the instrument was not employed to double the bass line exactly but rather to provide a harmonic foundation, as well as to accentuate stressed beats.41 38   Bibliothèque de l’Opéra INV 2, fol. 96, cited by Jérôme de La Gorce, “L’Orchestre de l’Opéra et son évolution de Campra à Rameau,” Revue de musicologie 76 (1990): 27. 39   Graham Sadler, “The Role of the Keyboard Continuo in French Opera, 1673– 1776,” Early Music 8 (April, 1980): 151–2. 40   Greenberg lists several subsequent storm scenes in French opera, including tempests by Jean-Baptiste Stück, Toussaint Bertin de La Doué, Jean-Baptiste Matho, and others. See “Perfecting the Storm,” para. 4.4. 41   Further on the relationship between the contrebasse part and the written bass line, see Cyr, “Basses and basse continue,” especially pp. 160–67 and plates 6 and 7, which illustrate surviving contrebasse parts that bear the names of players at the Opéra (Montéclair and Degüé).

Figure 4.2

Marin Marais, Alcione, tragédie mise en musique (Paris: author, 1706), Act IV, scene 4, reduced score, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

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As the popularity of the contrebasse increased with its more frequent use at the Opéra, the instrument began to appear in smaller chamber works as well. Examples of its participation in chamber music ensembles can be found in the cantatas of Louis-Nicolas Clérambault (Léandre et Héro, 1713 and La muse de l’Opéra, 1717) and François Bouvard (Léandre et Héro, 1729). Corrette also reports that he heard an instrumental ensemble in which the contrebasse joined the harpsichord and cello in accompanying violin sonatas performed by Giovanni Battista Somis and Jean-Pierre Guignon, producing a “charming effect” (un effect charmant). This event very likely took place in the 1730s when these performers were in Paris.42 Despite its relatively late date of publication, Michel Corrette’s treatise for the contrebasse, Methodes Pour apprendre à jouër de la Contre-Basse à 3. à 4. et à 5.cordes, de la Quinte ou Alto et de la Viole d’Orphée nouvel Instrumt ajusté sur l’ancienne Viole; utile au Concert pour accompagner la Voix et p.r jouër des Sonates (Paris, [1781]), offers much advice that is relevant for playing music from the first half of the eighteenth century. In a preface, Corrette offers a brief historical account of the earliest use of the contrebasse and its first players (Montéclair and Saggione). The illustration that accompanies his account shows a four-string contrebasse that is viol-shaped with C-holes and frets. His description leaves no doubt that the instrument sounds an octave lower than the cello and bass viol, and that its use came from Italian practice: The contrebasse that the Italians call Violone sounds an octave below the violoncelle and is in unison with the 16-foot Bourdon of the organ; the body and the neck are nearly two times larger than those of the violoncelle, and so are the strings. The old six-string basses de viole had nearly the same shape… (La Contre basse que les Italiens noment, Violone est à l’Octave au dessous du Violoncelle et à l’unisson du Bourdon de 16 pieds de l’Orgue, le corps et le manche sont presque deux fois plus grands que le Violoncelle ainsi que les cordes. Les anciennes Basses de Violes à 6 cordes avoient a peu-près la meme figure…)43

His description of the bow hold makes it clear that players held the bow underhand as for the viol, which they found produced a stronger sound: The bow of the contrebasse is held in the manner of the viole and that of the quinton, which is to say it is held in the hand with the fingernails [i.e., tips of the fingers] up, which is contrary to that of the violoncelle; the contrebasse players 42   Michel Corrette, Méthodes Pour apprendre à jouer de la Contre-Basse à 3. à 4. et à 5. cordes, de la Quinte ou Alto et de la Viole d’Orphée, nouvel instrument adjusté sur l’ancienne Viole… (Paris, 1781), p. 31. 43  Ibid., p. 1.

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claim to have more force to use in this manner when drawing sound [from the instrument]. (L’Archet de la contre-basse se tient comme ce lui de la Viole et ce lui du quinton c’est a dire de le tenir dans la main les ongles en haut, ce qui est le contraire du Violoncelle les contre-bassiers pretendent avoir plus de force de cette maniere pour tirer du Son.)44

He designates the four-string tuning in fourths (E–A–d–g) as the most common, although he notes that some players used a three-string or a five-string instrument. In a subsequent chapter (p. 9), he gives the tuning of the three-string instrument in fifths (G–d–a) and the five-string instrument, also in fourths (F#–B–e–a–d). Low notes that lie outside the range of the instrument are normally transposed up an octave on the contrebasse. Corrette’s subsequent chapters deal first with the contrebasse and how a player may alter a cello part in order to make it work well on the contrebasse, a necessary skill for good and correct ensemble playing. He considers it important for players to understand the principles of composition, since they are expected to alter the bass line without having a part written specifically for the contrebasse. The most important advice to contrebasse players on how to frame their parts is found in the following passage, in which he indicates that players need to recognize important notes in the written basse continue part. This is done by using the bass figures on the bass line as a guide: In Concertos, it is the organ [i.e., basse continue] part that is used by the contrebasse, since the principal notes are figured for the harpsichord. It is only those notes [with figures] that the contrebasse should play; however, it is necessary to remember two things: (1) that one must play all the notes in an Adagio, Largo, Andante and other slow movements, (2) that one must play all the tonic and dominant notes even though they are most often without figures. One calls the first note [of a scale] the tonic and the fifth note the dominant. (Dans les Concerto, l’organo est la partie qui convient à la Contre basse, comme les principales notes de l’harmonie sont chiffrées pour le Clavecin. C’est justement ces notes la quelle doit jouer, il faut cependant remarquer deux choses. I.o qu’il faut jouer toutes les notes dans un Adagio, Largo, Andante et autres movemens lents. II.o qu’il faut jouer toutes les note toniques et notes dominantes quoy qu[‘]elle soient les plus souvent sans Chiffres. On nõme note tonique la 1.re du ton … et Dominante la 5.e note du ton.)45

44

 Ibid.   Ibid., p. 14.

45

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In his advice to contrebasse players on how to invent a part from the written bass line, Corrette repeats principles that had been in place for decades by the time that his treatise was published. Earlier, as Corrette notes, players had always invented their own parts, and with only one contrebasse player this caused no difficulty. However, when the number of contrebasse players increased, some confusion resulted from playing different parts, and he therefore recommends providing players with a single part. His general advice for writing a contrebasse part can be summarized as follows: in Adagios, Andantes, and other slow movements, the contrebasse may play all the notes of the basse continue part, but in faster movements he advises that the contrebasse should play either the first of a group of quick notes, or just the lowest note of a run. When the bass part changes from F clef to C clef, the contrebasse should rest. Corrette argues against the longstanding practice of French players who played the harmonic root of a chord (the basse fondamentale). The apparent simplicity of surviving contrebasse parts has frequently led scholars and conductors today to minimize the instrument’s significance and to assume that eighteenth-century players simply lacked the skill to play the written bass line. This notion is diametrically opposed to the eighteenth-century composer’s concept of the instrument as a necessary addition to the basse continue group for sonority, harmonic support and metrical accentuation. The contrebasse served as a unique harmonic foundation to the orchestra, supplying an indispensable structural articulation to the bass line. A hypothetical contrebasse part for the beginning of an air from André Campra’s Idoménée (1712) is shown in Example 4.1 as a player might construct it using Corrette’s advice. With two principal beats in the meter 2, the contrebasse would play mainly at downbeats and at changes of harmony but should not double every short note in the bass line. Corrette’s advice for playing only certain notes from the written bass line in fast movements agrees with surviving contrebasse parts from mid-eighteenthcentury opera,46 and his explanation contains a significant point that even today is rarely fully understood by players. That is, Corrette does not recommend that one merely simplify the bass line, but rather that the contrebasse should have the important responsibility of emphasizing the harmonic motion, as well as providing nuance and stress on notes where the changes of harmony occur. His rule that the tonic and dominant ought always to be played adds assurance that cadences will also be emphasized. In this way, roundly articulated and nuanced notes that emphasize important harmonies and metric accents add considerable life and spirit to the ensemble that can be matched by no other instrument.

46   Further on existing contrebasse parts for Rameau operas, see Cyr, “Basses and basse continue,” and Greenberg, “Perfecting the Storm,” especially para. 4.6.

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Example 4.1 André Campra, air from Idoménée, tragédie mise en musique (1712) Act II, scene 8, reduced score with added contrebasse part

Concluding Remarks The archival and historical evidence that survives from court performances and from the Paris Opéra forms a rich resource for studies of original scoring and the size of original performing forces. In general, the farther back one goes, the fewer individual orchestral parts that survive, but the livrets often contain valuable information too that enables scholars and conductors to reconstruct the disposition of instruments both on-stage and in the orchestra. But, even after discovering a good number of facts about the performing forces that are appropriate for a given work, conductors, players, and singers will still need to make choices that, inevitably, will require some compromises. A particularly thorny issue for string players concerns the instruments assigned to the middle parts (parties) in the fouror five-part French string ensemble. Few, if any, original instruments survive of the sizes appropriate for the three viola parts (haute-contre, taille, and quinte). Recent research and experiments with building such instruments have produced promising results, but the fact remains that relatively few players will have ready access to them. The larger-size violas in particular may present challenges for the player to hold such a large instrument.

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Without access to three different sizes of violas, should we play the inner parts in French music on whatever Baroque violas are at hand? Or, would it be more appropriate to play the haute-contre part on a violin, since it often falls within that instrument’s range? Jean Duron argues that, in Charpentier’s sacred music in four-part texture, the timbre and sonority require that the middle parts be played on violas. In the introduction to his performing edition of Charpentier’s Music for Molière’s Comedies (Madison, 1990), on the contrary, John S. Powell recommends that the timbre of a violin is more suited to the highest middle part.47 The point has been debated in the secondary literature, and in a summary comment Powell adds advice that probably applies equally well to many other situations where four- or five-part textures are used. He writes, “if a modern ensemble owns replicas of the haute-contre de violon, I would urge using them; otherwise, a violin on the hautecontre would be preferable to a modern viola.”48 Recent research by Graham Sadler also demonstrates that the parties may have been omitted from some French printed scores, a circumstance that also poses a significant challenge for conductors and players.49 Sadler argues that, in certain French cantatas and other chamber works, viola parts need to be added in order to arrive at the texture that the composer intended, and that restoring viola parts to such works will contribute to a much different and enriched sonority. Although it has become customary to think of the parties as mere harmonic fillers in a four- or five-part texture, their color and depth of sonority add immeasurably to the overall sonority and also form a bridge between the treble and bass lines. A similar argument can be made for reconstructing a contrebasse part that does not double the bass line, but rather takes its cues from the bass figures in the harpsichord part. In other words, the contrebasse should play when the harmony changes, reducing the rhythmic motion at times, and adding articulation and sonority with its metrical accentuation. It comes as no surprise, perhaps, that the first contrebasse players at the Paris Opéra were themselves also composers, since the revisions that a player made in the contrebasse part (often at sight) required a similar capability to that of the viola players who, according to Corrette, were obliged to use their heads, not merely their fingers.

47   See Jean Duron, “L’orchestre de Marc-Antoine Charpentier,” Revue de musicologie 72 (1986): 31–3. For a summary of the controversy surrounding this point, see John S. Powell, “Musical Practices in the Theater of Molière,” Revue de musicologie 82 (1996): 10–11, fn. 16. 48   Powell, “Musical Practices,” p. 11. 49   Graham Sadler, “The Orchestral French Cantata (1706–30): Performance, Edition, and Classification of a Neglected Repertory,” in Aspects of the Secular Cantata in Late Baroque Italy, ed. Michael Talbot (Aldershot, 2009), pp. 227–54.

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Part III Interpretation and Style in French Music for String Players

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Chapter 5

Articulation Just as consonants and vowels articulate words and help singers to convey the meaning and emotion of the text, the subtle movements and pressure of the right hand on the bow add articulation that gives Baroque music its life and expression. French writers speak in general terms about the role of the right hand and stress the central importance of the bow as an expressive device: If the Viol as played by the left hand with its ornaments is the body, one could say that the Bow is the soul, since it is the bow that animates and expresses all the passions that agree with the Voice and that mark the different tempos of the composition; that is why it is of great consequence to use the bow with certain rules, and what proves this necessity is the exactitude with which the Masters mark the bowings in their Pieces. (Si la Viole touchée de la main gauche avec ses Agrémens est un corps, on peut dire que l’Archet en est l’ame, puisque c’est luy qui l’anime, & qui exprime toutes les passions qui conviennent avec la Voix, & qui marque les differents mouvements du Chant; c’est pourquoy il est d’une grande consequence de s’en servir avec ordre, & ce qui doit encore prouver cette necessité, est l’exactitude avec laquelle les Maistres marquent les coups d’Archet dans leurs Pieces.)1 In order to draw sound from the Violin, one must draw long bow strokes but in a graceful and agreeable way. (Pour tirer du son du Violon, il faut tirer et pousser de grands coups d’Archet, mais d’une maniere gracieuse et agréable.)2

In modern playing, articulation usually refers to the way that a note is accented (or not), typically at the beginning of a bow stroke. The word articulation may also be used to describe how long or short the notes sound when played. Articulation is understood with similar meanings in Baroque string playing, with one exception: because unwound gut strings react somewhat differently than modern metal strings do to pressure from the bow, in Baroque playing it is necessary to begin each stroke without the “accent” or “attack” that characterizes modern articulation, but   Jean Rousseau, Traité de la viole (Paris, 1687), p. 107.   Michel Corrette, L’École d’Orphée, méthode pour apprendre facilement a joüer du violon dans le goût François et Italien … oeuvre XVIIIe (Paris, 1738), p. 7. 1 2

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rather with a slow to moderate motion that brings the string into vibration. Shading and nuance are applied to a bow stroke as the sound begins to develop. In general, an ideal bow stroke in modern playing might be described as one that is drawn in an even manner, at a constant speed and without dynamic change. When shading and nuance is added in modern string playing, one thinks first of the left hand as being responsible for expression, mainly through the use of vibrato. Evidence from the Baroque era about string playing runs counter to the notion that the left hand is responsible for adding expression; rather, the bow was viewed as the main vehicle for expression, and the player’s right hand was therefore deemed to be responsible for both the articulation and nuance that shape a musical phrase. The left hand was seen as responsible for stopping the strings in a clear and accurate manner and for adding appropriate ornamentation that contributes to the expression and character of the piece. French composers tend to mark ornaments—trills, appoggiaturas, and vibrato—with signs that indicate exactly where the ornaments are to be applied. Bowings such as slurs and staccato are often indicated in French music too, especially solo music, but the nuance and subtle shading that contributed to the artistry of playing the violin or viol were generally not indicated specifically in the music. The discussion of articulation in this chapter deals with both the written and unwritten conventions of French practice. Bowed string instruments formed the core of chamber music and larger ensembles, and there is substantial evidence from historical treatises to suggest that players used specific bowings and articulations for ensemble playing that differed from those used in solo playing. The bow for orchestral playing was often shorter and lighter than that used for solo playing, and some players kept different instruments for solo playing and for accompanying or playing in larger ensembles.3 Different attitudes toward articulation based on the size and doubling of instruments in an ensemble resulted in two separate approaches to articulation; we may describe one as “orchestral style” and the other as “solo style.” Notational conventions in orchestral style are generally not indicated in the music itself, but there is substantial historical evidence that allows players to determine how the rules of bowing were applied in most situations. 3

  An instrument for solo playing is one that responds quickly and whose tone quality is especially attractive in the upper register; an instrument for accompaniment would ideally have a resonant bass register and good carrying power in general. That players saw these requirements as distinct can be seen in a letter written by Jean-Baptiste Forqueray to Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia in 1767 or 1768, in which he refers to two viols his father owned, one for solo playing and the other for accompaniment. See John Rutledge, “A Letter of J.-B.-A. Forqueray, Translated and with Commentary,” JVdGSA 13 (1976): 14. There is also evidence that players may have kept different bows for these two functions. A statement of expenses from the violin maker Louis Guersan to “Mesdames de France” (daughters of Louis XV) dated June 14, 1759 indicates that two cello bows were furnished to Mme Adélaïde, “one for accompaniment and one for solo pieces” (deux archets, un pour l’accompagnement, et un pour les piéces). See Sylvette Milliot, Histoire de la lutherie parisienne du XVIIIe siècle à 1960 (Spa, 1997), p. 49.

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As is often the case with historical documents that describe musical practice, those written by foreigners who observed French players provide greater detail and therefore prove especially useful for study. The foundation of French orchestral style during the Baroque era was established by Jean-Baptiste Lully for the musicians of the 24 Violons du Roi under his direction. Georg Muffat spent several years in Paris during the 1660s, when he was able to observe orchestral style as practiced by Lully’s musicians, and he later described the principles of that style as he understood them. His writings remain the principal documents that help us to understand French orchestral style, but French writers of the early eighteenth century also continued to describe a similar style of playing, and their documents also add significantly to our understanding of how players approached large-ensemble playing.4 Georg Muffat and French Orchestral Practice Georg Muffat, born in 1653, studied music in Paris as a young boy and took an interest in the French style of playing that Lully practiced. Muffat lived in Paris from 1663 to 1669, then returned briefly to Alsace, where his family had settled earlier. He travelled and worked in Vienna and Prague and, in 1678, secured employment as cathedral organist and chamber musician for the Archbishop of Salzburg, Maximilian Gandolf von Künenberg, where the violinist Heinrich Biber was also employed. Muffat’s knowledge of Italian style derived from having spent several years in Rome during which time he studied with Corelli; following his return to Salzburg in 1682 he began to compose chamber sonatas in the Italian style. He maintained his interest in French music, and while holding the position of Hofkapellmeister in Passau (from about 1690) he published three collections of instrumental music: Florilegium Primum (Augsburg: Jacob Koppmayr, 1695) and Florilegium Secundum (Passau: Georg Adam Höller, 1698), which contained suites of dances in the French style, and Exquisitioris Harmoniæ Instrumentalis (also known as Auserlesene Instrumentalmusik) (Passau: Maria Margaretha Höllerin, 1701), consisting of Italian concerti grossi. In these works, he indicated in the dedication that he attempted to combine elements of both the Italian and French styles. He died in Passau in 1703. Muffat’s explanation of articulation in Florilegium Secundum applies broadly to music by French composers and by other composers who incorporated French 4   Further on Muffat’s life, a full list of his works, and modern editions of his music, see the biographical sketch in David K. Wilson (editor and translator), Georg Muffat on Performance Practice (Bloomington and Indianapolis, IN, 2001), pp. 3–7 and the section entitled “Source Materials and Editions,” pp. xi–xvi. On the orchestral style of playing, see Herbert W. Meyers, “Orchestral Bowing Technique,” in George Houle, Le Ballet des Fâcheux: Beauchamp’s Music for Molière’s Comedy (Bloomington, IN, 1991), pp. 11–25, which includes many examples from Muffat.

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dance rhythms in their ensemble music. It is important to note that the articulations of which Muffat speaks were not normally marked by French composers; the rules of bowing were applied in greater or lesser proportion to the tempo, character, and size of ensemble. The larger the ensemble and the faster the tempo, the greater the shortness or accent in articulating notes. It is equally important for players today to note that a short bow and a special bow grip were considered to be essential for playing in the Lullian style. In his section on “The Use of the Bow,” Muffat explains that the Lullists hold the bow with the fingers on top of the stick and the thumb against the hair, as shown in Jean-Baptiste Pater’s chalk drawing of a seated violinist (Figure 5.1). A similar bow grip remained in use for a number of years thereafter, for it is still described as the “French” grip by Michel Corrette in 1738.5 Muffat also reports that the Germans generally agree with the French practice, but that the Italians leave the hair untouched. The French had an extraordinary unity of sound owing to the rules of bowing that were practiced by Lully and were intended to stress the meters of the dances strongly, “even if a thousand of them were to play together.”6 As Muffat’s examples in Florilegium Secundum illustrate, bowing in the French style consisted largely of separate bow strokes, with a downbow on the beat and on odd-numbered notes (1, 3, 5, and so forth) within the smaller subdivisions of the beat. The upbow stroke occurs on intervening even-numbered notes and is a lighter, less stressed stroke. When playing slowly or moderately in triple meter, one should bow separate strokes (beginning always downbow on a downbeat) and lift the bow at each measure in order to maintain the downbow rule. When playing in faster tempos, the upbow stroke can be divided with two notes performed lightly in a detached manner, which was called craquer.7 He also demonstrates that notes are paired and stressed rhythmically, “a bit altered, as if all the odd-numbered notes were given a dot; therefore the following notes would be played faster.”8 The pairs of stressed, slightly lengthened notes with a weaker, 5

  Corrette describes the French grip with three fingers on top of the stick (at the frog), the little finger against the side of the bow, and the thumb under the hair. For the Italian grip, which he indicates is “equally good” (également bonne), the player puts four fingers on top of the stick and the thumb opposite them (under the stick). With this grip, the hand is held farther away from the frog. See Corrette, L’École d’Orphée, p. 7. 6  Wilson, Georg Muffat on Performance Practice, p. 33. Muffat was obviously exaggerating at the mention of a thousand players, but large groups did play in some of Lully’s performances. For example, Jérôme de La Gorce reports a performance of Lully’s La Princesse d’Élide in 1664 in which 16 fauns performed on flute and violin together with 30 additional strings and a basse continue section that included 6 players on harpsichord and theorbo. See Jérôme de La Gorce, “Some Notes on Lully’s Orchestra,” in Jean-Baptiste Lully and the Music of the French Baroque: Essays in Honor of James R. Anthony, ed. John Hajdu Heyer (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989), p. 108. 7  Wilson, Georg Muffat on Performance Practice, p. 35. 8  Ibid., p. 44, from Muffat’s section III, “Tempus” (the beat, tempo).

Figure 5.1

Jean-Baptiste Pater, Seated Violinist, drawing in red chalk, 16.5cm × 26cm (1710–1736). © Trustees of the British Museum, London

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unstressed note occur in ¡, ¢, ³½ (Allegro) and ³¼, þ¼, þ¾, and ¹¾ (Adagio), and in rhythmic values as small as sixteenth notes. The rules that Muffat gives for retaking downbow strokes on important (stressed) notes do not in themselves dictate the phrasing of a melody. The shape of a melody—whether it leaps or moves in stepwise fashion, and how it rises and falls—offers the player the best clue about how to shape a phrase using dynamic nuance. The bowing is a means of achieving appropriate articulation between the notes as part of that phrasing and a way of enhancing it. If the retaking of a downbow stroke is done by returning each time to the spot near the frog where the previous stroke began, the articulations will be relatively strong. A retaking of the downbow to a point nearer the middle of the bow will produce a lighter stress on the succeeding downbow stroke. In general, notes of longer rhythmic values are to be played with long strokes, and the lifting of the bow at the end of a stroke produces a brief silence (or a ringing) that adds life to the melody and helps to shape the phrase. Slurs and a detached spiccato-type stroke (petillement), are described by Muffat along with ornaments such as trills, turns, and appoggiaturas. He shows the slur (coulement) as covering two notes (quarter notes or eighth notes in his example), and they are taken on either a downbow or an upbow stroke. Slurs are marked in the music, but the spiccato (petillement) stroke is not; while playing several detached notes bowed the same direction, “the notes are played distinctly … with a hopping bow stroke” (Example 5.1a).9 Other types of scalewise or decorative runs between notes may be taken in a single bow stroke and are considered to be ornaments as well. Lastly, he mentions staccato (détachement, marked with a dot) as a way of playing a note in a single stroke “as if it were followed by a rest” (Example 5.1b).10 Example 5.1 (a) and (b) Georg Muffat, Florilegium Secundum (1698), bowing rules as practiced by Lully (a)

(b)

The premier air from the prologue to Lully’s pastorale, Les festes de l’Amour et de Bacchus (1672, Example 5.2) illustrates many of the typical features of 9



Ibid., p. 51. English translation by David K. Wilson. Ibid., p. 52. English translation by David K. Wilson.

10

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Lully’s writing with a five-part string texture in which the treble part (1er dessus), notated in French violin clef (G1) is prominent and slightly more rhythmically active than the other parts. The three inner parts (haute-contre, taille, and quinte) are notated in different C clefs; each of these parts has a slightly different range, but all are played by viola-size instruments tuned in the same manner. The basse continue is notated in F (bass) clef. Airs such as this one in triple meter are often challenging for modern players, who may not be used to retaking the bow often. Applying Muffat’s rules to this air, one would begin with an upbow stroke in all parts and use a downbow stroke on all downbeats. This principle works well on the inner parts, where there are many half notes that fall on downbeats. For most of the air, simple down and up strokes in alternation work well for the inner parts; a retaking of the bow occurs mainly at downbeats following a measure of three quarter notes. In the 1er dessus part, the bowing is slightly more complicated, since each measure consists of an odd number of notes. In this case, downbows need to be taken at most of the dotted quarter notes in addition to the downbeats. The resulting articulation will be a series of light, short strokes, and the player must Example 5.2 Jean-Baptiste Lully, Premier air from Les festes de l’Amour et de Bacchus (1672). Source: Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. F-1703, fols 25’–26

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also shape the line according to its melodic rise and fall. This melody and bass line present opportunities for shaping the articulation by adding stress to the highest point in the melody (m. 2) and to the long notes (mm. 3, 5, and 7), especially the cadence at measure 7; all of these notes fall on downbeats. The bass also articulates the downbeats clearly with half notes and the occasional accent elsewhere, as in measure 6 on the second beat. The rules that Muffat describes for orchestral playing in the French style as practiced by Lully’s orchestra continued to be used well into the eighteenth century, although they were probably applied somewhat less strictly. Michel Corrette describes rules for bowing “dans le goût François” in his treatise entitled L’Ecole d’Orphée, méthode pour apprendre facilement a joüer du violon dans le goût François et Italien … oeuvre XVIIIe (Paris, 1738). His examples show both duple and triple meters with a downbow stroke (marked t for tirez) on most, but not all, downbeats. The strokes are taken separately throughout each example, Example 5.3 Michel Corrette, L’Ecole d’Orphée (1738), bowing in the Italian style on the violin

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and phrases always begin and end with a downbow on a strong beat. Short notes (eighth notes in the meter 2) are shown as detached strokes and marked p (poussez) for upbow. His examples demonstrate these general rules in préludes and various dances such as the menuet, gigue, rondeau, and forlane. In a subsequent section, he illustrates bowing patterns in the “Italian style” (dans le goût Italien), where some slurs are introduced, especially in shorter note values and in pairs of notes. A comparison of a short prélude in Largo, Andante, and Allegro tempi (see Example 5.3) demonstrates that, when one is playing in the Italian style, slurs may be added in both slow and quick speeds, that variety of separate and slurred notes is desirable, and that strong or stressed notes are still taken on a downbow stroke. Near the end of his section on playing in the Italian style, Corrette also demonstrates longer slurs with three and four notes in a single stroke, and detached strokes (coups d’archet détaché) marked with staccato dots. Although orchestral playing and solo playing represented two quite different options for the string player, there is also a third type of playing that represents a type of middle ground. This type of playing was used in small chamber ensembles. With the growing popularity of Italian music and performers in Paris from about 1700 on, composers began to publish sonatas and cantatas that called specifically for violins and viols, often with a solo voice (or sometimes two voices).11 Chamber music supported the influx of Italian idioms and provided an opportunity for both amateur and professional players to explore technical and expressive demands that were generally not needed for orchestral playing. Chamber music playing thus occupies a position somewhere between that of orchestral playing and solo playing in terms of the types of articulation that a player might employ. In general, when chamber music requires one player per part, it falls into the category of solo playing. A relatively long bow and an instrument that is especially responsive in its melodic register suit the demands of small chamber ensembles. The larger the chamber ensemble, the more its demands move toward those of orchestral playing. If the melodic parts and the basse continue are doubled, articulation needs a sharper focus; such needs may best be met with a shorter bow and an instrument that speaks quickly and delivers a clear, forthright tone. With experience, players will be able to make this choice and adapt the characteristics of orchestral and solo articulation in order to find a middle ground that suits the needs of each chamber music ensemble.

11

  Further on the use of string instruments in early French cantatas, see especially chapters 5 and 6 in David Tunley, The Eighteenth-Century French Cantata, second edition (Oxford, 1997), and Chapter 2 (“Jeu de l’Accompagnement”) in Julie Anne Sadie, The Bass Viol in French Baroque Chamber Music, Studies in Musicology no. 26, ed. George Buelow (Ann Arbor, MI, 1980).

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Bowing for Solo Playing Solo literature for the viol, violin, and cello in France belongs, with only a few exceptions, to the period after 1700. Among these string instruments, only the viol—specifically the basse de viole with a seventh (low A′) string—had a significant solo literature during the seventeenth century consisting at first of unaccompanied suites by Dubuisson and Demachy, followed by the technically challenging suites of Marin Marais for basse de viole with basse continue, the first book of which was published in 1686.12 Nearly simultaneous with Marais’s first book of suites for viol, Jean Rousseau’s Traité de la viole (1687) offers a summary of the rules for bowing that were used in solo playing on the viol that is comprehensive and comparable in detail to that of Muffat for orchestral playing. As is the case in most historical sources that concern solo playing, an emphasis is placed on the expressive role of the bow in giving the music its character and expression. This central point allows players gradually to expand the technical possibilities of bowing to include various types of slurs, staccato, marcato, and dynamic nuances that, in combination with ornamentation added by the left hand, give the performance its individuality and expression. Jean Rousseau devotes a substantial chapter in his Traité de la viole to rules for bowing, which he claims are necessary to understand clearly because the bow is the “soul” (l’âme) that is responsible for expressing the passions and giving the music its life. He explains that bowing for the viol is opposite to that of the violin: when one drawns a downbow (tirez) stroke on the violin, one uses an upbow (poussez) stroke on the viol. Thus, the stronger stroke for the viol is the upbow, where some of the arm’s pressure can be applied, whereas on the violin, the weight of the arm is used on the downbow stroke. Rousseau’s method for determining the direction in which to begin bowing is simple: with an even number of notes to play, one begins with an upbow stroke on the viol, and with an odd number of notes, one begins with a downbow stroke. However, because there are frequently notes of various rhythmic values, and because it is not always easy to determine in advance how many notes will be found in a given phrase, Rousseau recommends instead determining the bowing according to the value of the notes and the meter. He offers an example to illustrate how bowing rules can be applied in various situations, including how to retake the bow in order to arrive at an upbow stroke on the final note of a phrase. His example, a portion of which is shown in Example 5.4, illustrates that in general one uses an upbow stroke on long or stressed notes, which are the first and third beats in duple meter, and the first beat in triple meter. In a passage where the bass line jumps an octave from top to bottom (mm. 2 and 5), one should always use an upbow stroke on the upper note and a downbow 12

  On the music of Dubuisson (whose first name is unknown), see Stuart Cheney, “A Summary of Dubuisson’s Life and Sources,” VdGSA 27 (1990): 7–21. For viol music by Demachy and Marais, see the section on music in the Bibliography for this book and the composer profile of Marais (Chapter 9).

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Example 5.4 Jean Rousseau, Traité de la viole (1687), rules on bowing for the viol

stroke on the lower note. In his example, the notes of an octave are filled in with a stepwise run at the letter K, to which the same rule is applied: the notes from the top of the octave are slurred on an upbow stroke. Rousseau also relates bowing to the overall tempo and meter of a piece and draws a distinction between the slurring of notes and bowing two notes in a detached manner in the same direction: In duple meter or ¡, when there are quarter notes on the first or third beats, one begins with an upbow stroke. A. If the number of quarter notes is uneven, or if they fall on the second or fourth beats, one begins downbow. B. In duple meter, when one finds eighth notes, and the first one is on the first part of the beat, one draws an upbow C, and if they are on the second half of the beat, one draws a downbow. D. In duple meter, when one finds sixteenth notes, and the first sixteenth is the first or third within a beat, one draws an upbow E, and if it is the second or fourth within a beat, one draws a downbow F. When in a movement one finds eighth notes that are upbow, of which the first is on the first half of the beat, one draws the first and second [together] G, and if one finds sixteenth notes upbow where the first is on the first or third part of the beat, similarly one draws the first and second ones on one stroke H. This rule must be observed in all meters. When in a movement one finds a decorated melody, or a final cadence, where the last note is long enough to retake the bow, one must observe the rules as if one were beginning the movement. I. (Au Signe Majeur, ou de quatre Temps, quand on trouve des Noires, dont la premiere est la premiere ou troisiéme partie de la Mesure il faut commencer en

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poussant, quand mesme le nombre des Notes de mesme valeur seroit non pair A, & si elle est la seconde ou quatriéme partie de la Mesure il faut tirer. B. Au mesme Signe, quand on trouve des Croches, & que la premiere est la premiere partie d’un Temps il faut pousser C, & si elle est la second partie d’un Temps, il faur tirer. D. Au mesme Signe, quand on trouve des doubles Croches, & que la premiere est la premiere ou troisiéme partie d’un Temps il faut pousser E, & si elle est la seconde ou quatriéme partie d’un Temps il faut tirer. F. Quand dans la suite d’une Piece de Musique on rencontre des Croches en tirant, dont la premiere est la premiere partie d’un Temps il faut tirer la premiere & la seconde G, & si on rencontre des double Croches en tirant, dont la premiere est la premiere ou troisiéme partie de la Mesure, il faut pareillement tirer la premiere & la seconde H, cette Regle doit estre observée dans tous les Signes. Quand dans la suite d’une Piece il se rencontre quelque Cheute de Chant, ou quelque Cadence finale, dont la derniere Note est assez longue pour reprendre le coup d’Archet, il en faut observer les Regles, comme si on commençoit la Piece. I.)13

Jean Rousseau’s bowing instructions bear many similarities to those described by Muffat for orchestral playing, but there are also important differences. The most significant is that the longer, slightly heavier bow employed for solo playing allows more notes to fall within a single stroke. The possibilities for slurring and detaching notes, adding ornamentation, and realizing ornaments written with signs greatly enhance the expressive possibilities of solo playing. Most of the printed solo viol music from the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries was written by composers who were themselves accomplished performers on the instrument. Rousseau’s bowing rules form the basis for the marks found in their solo music, and their bowing indications are often specific enough that players need to add few, if any, slurs. A menuet in D minor by Demachy for solo (unaccompanied) viol from his Pieces de violle en Musique et en Tablature (Paris, 1685), demonstrates multi-note slurs across strings, slurs over large intervals, and slurs combined with double stops (Example 5.5). All of these features represent unmistakable signs of solo playing which require the use of a bow of appropriate length and weight to accomplish such varied strokes. One begins with an upbow stroke, as marked by Demachy, and no further accommodation is required from the player. Demachy marks slurs of two, three, and four notes that maintain the general rule that the strong first beat in triple meter is taken with an upbow stroke. Although there are no specific instances of detached strokes in this example, Rousseau’s recommendation that one should lift the bow lightly on the downbow strokes is still useful, since a very quick stroke is often required in order to return the full distance travelled during the upbow stroke. A light, quick stroke can be  Rousseau, Traité de la viole, pp. 109–10.

13

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Example 5.5 Demachy, Menuet in D minor for solo (unaccompanied viol) from Pieces de violles (1685)

accomplished by a slight lifting as one draws the bow, resulting in approximately equal lengths of bow hair being used but less pressure on the downbown stroke. The most influential player and composer for the viol in France was Marin Marais, whose five published books of solo suites (with basse continue) preserve detailed indications for bowing, ornaments, fingerings, dynamic nuances, and vibrato. He and the gifted performer Antoine Forqueray, both of whom were often described as incomparable virtuoso players on the viol, brought solo playing to an unprecedented level in the early eighteenth century. With Marais’s Prelude in A minor from from his Pièces de violes, troisième livre (1711), we find clear evidence of a soloistic approach to playing and expression (Example 5.6). Marais’s music seems to have moved in a significantly different direction from that of Demachy; there is more variety in the length and types of slurs (across strings, with mixed note values, and so forth), and ornamentation is an integral part of the phrasing and melodic shape of the line. Slurs occur over several notes, and the tirez (downbow) stroke is sometimes taken twice with a brief rest in between (mm. 8 and 9). Signs indicate two types of vibrato (with vertical and horizontal wavy lines) on stressed notes, mordents (mm. 6 and 12, third beat), and trills (marked with a comma after the note, mm. 3, 4, and 7). Chords also accentuate important arrivals, such as the downbeat of m. 12. Double stops and chords fall on strong (upbow) strokes. The “e” in mm. 3, 6, and 11 represents a nuance called the enflé, which is an increase or swelling of the sound.

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A half-bracket is used to indicate that the left-hand finger should be held down for added resonance while other pitches are played.14 Each ornament or nuance is carefully chosen to add sonority or variety while also lending support to a rich palette of harmonies including seventh and ninth chords. Example 5.6 Marin Marais, Prelude in A minor (Pièces de violes, troisième livre, 1711), for viol and basse continue

14   For further discussion and interpretation of ornament signs and other marks, see Chapter 7 (Ornamentation and Special Effects).

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Violoncello Bowing for Solo and Ensemble Playing The violoncello was employed largely as an instrument of the basse continue in France from the late seventeenth century until at least the second quarter of the eighteenth century. In a sense, the cello had more to contend with in terms of competition with the viol than the violin did. The viol initially commanded a wider range and greater capacity for chordal playing than the cello did, but the cello was able to gain ground eventually because of its greater power and usefulness for accompanying in large ensembles. Because the cello’s role was for so long associated with larger ensembles such as the orchestra of the Académie Royale de Musique (the Opéra), printed instructions for playing the instrument are geared more toward the orchestral style of playing rather than the solo style. By the time that Michel Corrette published his Methode théorique et pratique pour apprendre en peu de tems le violoncelle dans sa perfection … XXIVe ouvrage (Paris: Melle Castagnery, 1741), the cello had attained the status of a solo instrument, but Corrette still praises the cello largely as an instrument suited to large halls and whose open strings and low C string give it a special sonority and carrying power in such circumstances. His indication that the cello is an especially good partner for the violin demonstrates that the two instruments gained popularity together, very likely for many of the same reasons: their quick response, carrying ability, and bright resonance. In his advice on holding the cello bow, Corrette does not draw a distinction between solo and ensemble playing. He does indicate that the thumb may be held either on the stick opposite all four fingers (or opposite only three fingers), or the thumb may be placed on the hair, which corresponds to the bow grip described earlier by Muffat. Italians prefer the thumb on the stick, according to Corrette, but in either case he advises that one ought to choose the bow grip that “carries more force: because to play the Violoncelle one needs force from the arm in order to draw a sound” (a plus de force: car pour joüer du Violoncelle il faut de la force dans le bras droit po[u]r tirer du son).15 He further describes how bowing contributes to the cello’s sound if the player uses the middle part of the bow and strong, firm strokes. His comments, some of which recall the rules for the viol described by Jean Rousseau, seem to refer to situations that players might encounter in basse continue parts rather than in solo playing, since bowing indications tend to be more complicated in the latter style: It is necessary to use the middle of the bow … to draw long, firm upbow and downbow strokes, and to make a good sound … Ordinarily one draws separate up- and downbow strokes alternately when the notes are of the same value. However, there are some occasions in which it is necessary to take two notes in

15   Michel Corrette, Methode théorique et pratique pour apprendre en peu de tems le violoncelle dans sa perfection (Paris, 1741), p. 8.

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the same direction of the bow, either upbow or downbow, but the latter is less frequent. (Il faut joüer du milieu de l’Archet … tirer et pousser de grands coups d’Archet fermes, et que le son soit net … Ordinairement on joüe les notes en tirant et poussant alternativement quand les notes sont de même valeur. Cependant il y a de certaines occasions ou il faut pousser deux notes du même coup d’Archet; et d’autres ou il faut tirer deux fois; mais cette derniere est moins frequente.)16

Corrette’s examples demonstrate that strong beats are normally taken with downbow strokes and that separate strokes are usually used, with an occasional detached upbow stroke in order to arrive on a downbow for a strong beat. At the end of a phrase and before a rest, he recommends using an upbow stroke.17 His explanation of a detached stroke indicates that the notes are played by dividing the bow into two equal sections (as in Muffat’s description of the technique he calls craquer), not retaking the bow. If the bow stroke arrives on an upbow with eighth notes, he recommends moving “more quickly” on the second note; in this case, he appears to refer to the use of inequality (notes inégales).18 Corrette explains that two downbow strokes are not used frequently, but they do occur at the end of a phrase when followed by an even number of notes before the next downbeat. In compound meters (þ¾, ¾ Ý ,¾ ¹ ), notes on the downbeat are taken with a downbow stroke, and single quarter notes followed by rests are taken with successive downbows. Two upbow strokes are used if it is necessary to bring the stroke back to a downbow on a strong beat.19 He concludes with a statement that one need not be a “slave to the bow strokes,” and that there are exceptions to every rule.20 Chamber Music Bowing in Combinations with Violins and Viols The instruments of the violin and viol families coexisted for a considerable period of time in France, during most of the seventeenth century and continuing until nearly the middle of the eighteenth century. Whereas the viol was more highly prized as both a continuo instrument and as a solo instrument during the late seventeenth century, the violin family made great strides in gaining popularity as 16

  Ibid., p. 9.   Ibid., p. 10. 18   Further on inequality, see Chapter 6 (Tempo, Character, and Inequality). 19  Corrette, Methode théorique et pratique, p. 11. The example he gives occurs in a passage in þ¾ with an odd number of notes in one measure, requiring two consecutive upbow strokes in order to come to a downbow on the following downbeat. 20   Ibid., p. 12: “Au reste il ne faut pas dans tel mouvement que ce soit être esclave des coups d’Archet, pourvu que l’on observe bien les longues et les brèves … tout cela fait voir qu’il n’y a point de Règle sans exception.” 17

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the wave of interest in Italian music swept Paris in the early eighteenth century. The violin and viola had long been associated with opera and other stage music, but the violin in particular also quickly gained favor as a member of small chamber ensembles with voice, woodwinds, and other strings. Whereas the basse de viole lost ground in the Opéra orchestra by the early years of the eighteenth century, it retained an important place as an instrument of the basse continue in chamber music such as the petit motet, the cantata, and instrumental sonatas and suites. The first quarter of the eighteenth century also saw the viol continue to retain its popularity as a solo instrument, as many books of suites continued to be published by composers such as Jacques Morel, François Couperin, Louis de Caix d’Hervelois, Marin Marais and his son Roland Marais, and others. Near the end of the viol’s period of popularity, Jean-Baptiste Forqueray published a collection of suites for the viol with basse continue in 1747. By the time this collection was published, the cello had gained considerable ground as both an instrument of the basse continue and a solo instrument. When performing French Baroque chamber music written between approximately 1680 and 1740, players may need to choose an instrument or a combination of instruments for the basse continue.21 Composers of sonatas often specified the instrument or combination of instruments that was intended to play the melody but frequently left the instruments of the basse continue unspecified. In some chamber music combinations, such as cantatas, the violins (or other melody instruments such as flutes or oboes) could be doubled, in which case doubling of the bass line would also be appropriate to achieve a good balance of sound. In general, a chamber ensemble included at a minimum one keyboard or plucked chordal instrument (such as the harpsichord, organ, lute, or theorbo) and one sustaining bass instrument such as the viol, cello, or bassoon. Larger combinations including two or more chordal instruments and a combination of sustaining bass instruments were prevalent too. It is apparent that there were many cases in which instruments of the violin family played alongside those of the viol family in French chamber music, and the differences in articulation for these instruments present some challenges for players.22 Boismortier’s Cantates Françoises a Voix seule, mêlées de simphonies … oeuvre cinquiéme (Paris, 1724) offers examples of typical configurations of solo and basse continue instruments, some of which are specified and others are not. 21

  Julie Anne Sadie discusses the choice of using a viol or a cello in French instrumental ensembles and indicates that “the choice was determined as much by personal taste and circumstances as by considerations of balance and blend” (The Bass Viol, p. 40); she provides many useful examples of specific indications by French Baroque composers in her article “Bowed Continuo Instruments in French Baroque Chamber Music,” PRMA 105 (1978–1979): 37–49. 22   For examples of the cello and viol both being specified within a single piece by French composers, see Sadie, “Bowed Continuo Instruments,” pp. 41–2. As she notes, the viol part is often written in alto clef, whereas the cello part is notated in bass or tenor clef.

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Example 5.7 Joseph Bodin de Boismortier, “Coule dans nos veines,” air from the cantata L’Automne (1724)

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The texts of the four cantatas allude to the pleasures or difficulties that the weather presents in each of the four seasons. The third cantata in the collection, entitled L’Automne, is a work for bass, violin (or flute), and basse continue. The combination of instruments for the basse continue is not specified, but harpsichord and either basse de viole or cello would be an appropriate choice. In the second air “Coule dans nos veines, viens calmer nos peines” (see Example 5.7), Boismortier indicates several different articulations for the treble and bass parts: dots, slurs in paired sixteenth notes, and separate articulations for sixteenth and thirty-second notes. The meter (¢) and character of the air (marked gracieusement) suggest that notes inégales would be applied at the sixteenth-note level, especially when the sixteenth notes are slurred in pairs, and also when they move in stepwise motion and with separate bow strokes. Repeated notes, as in the treble part in measure 3, would normally not be subject to inequality, and Boismortier’s use of dots on these figures can be interpreted as an indication that they should be played equally, as written. The variety of articulations and contrast between separate and slurred notes give each part a distinctive character, which is largely reflective of the text. When the voice enters, the slurred sixteenth notes on the first syllable of the word “cou-le” (flow) are immediately contrasted with a more syllabic rendition of the following words, “[Jus delicieux] … coule dans nos veines” (“[Delicious juice] … flow through our veins”). The expressive nuance in each of the three parts is achieved through contrasts of articulation using relatively simple means—both separate notes and slurs in pairs—to which further interest is added through the application of inequality and a modest amount of ornamentation indicated with signs. The voice and each of the instruments articulate musical figures in similar ways, but the combination of different articulations adds life and interest to the musical expression.

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Chapter 6

Tempo, Character, and Inequality

These are the established rules in Music concerning the tempo of pieces; but of all the rules of this Art, they are the least observed by those who practice it. What is said about Painters and Poets both taking liberties can also be said about Musicians. The latter transgress the rules of Music just as the former do the rules of Painting and Poetry. (Voila quelles sont les regles établies dans la Musique touchant le mouvement des Piéces; mais voila de toutes les regles de cet Art, celles qui sont le moins observées par ceux qui le professent: Ce qu’on dit communément que les Peintres & les Poëtes prennent des licences, peut se dire aussi des Musiciens. Ceux-cy transgressent les regles de la Musique, comme les autres celles de la Peinture & de la Poësie.)1

Tempo and Character Tempo, or the speed at which a piece of music is performed, refers to its measure, beat, or pulse. Tempo is affected by many factors, such as the size and acoustical characteristics of the performance venue, the size of the ensemble, and the particular instruments being used. Certain musical factors also determine the character of the piece, such as its meter, predominant rhythmic motion, and the meaning of the words (if voices are present). The tempo of a piece may even vary slightly depending on one’s state of mind or how one feels at the time. When we speak of the correct tempo for a piece, it is understood that a given speed will allow for minor adjustment according to the circumstances of individual performance. French musicians of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries used the words temps or mouvement when describing the speed at which a piece ought to be taken. The word mouvement in particular included connotations related to character and spirit of a piece, and both words were related to the meter in which a piece was written. Indeed, the meter signature itself often indicated tempo, so much so that many pieces lack any written direction about tempo apart from the meter. The notion that the meter signature provided information about performance beyond basic time-beating is shared by many French theorists of the first half of the eighteenth

 Saint-Lambert, Les principes du clavecin (Paris, 1702), pp. 23–4.

1

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century;2 the composite of information that comprises tempo, meter, and character constitutes what is generally communicated by the word mouvement, which can at times indicate tempo but can also denote a broader interpretation that includes some aspects of the character implied in the notation. In general, French sources use the word mesure for meter. French composers often used the word mesuré to indicate the return or taking up of a steady pulse (after a section of recitative, for example), a designation that was equivalent to the familiar Italian term a tempo.3 French theorists on different ways of measuring tempo French theorists explored several ways of measuring a regular beat or pulse in music. For example, Saint-Lambert related the speed at which a man walks to the tempo of a musical composition.4 There are inherent difficulties in translating such comparisons into a modern metronome mark, but a reasoned approach proposed by Rebecca Harris-Warrick indicates that Saint-Lambert’s stride of a man appears to correspond to the value of 120 to the quarter note in the meter barred C (¢).5 Saint-Lambert and Étienne Loulié also described a device known as the chronometer, a pendulum for keeping time that could be shortened or lengthened according to the speed of a given piece and which produced a metronome-like device.6 According to Loulié, a string on which a lead ball hung was suspended from a wooden ruler and functioned as a pendulum. The length of the pendulum could be changed, and the resulting difference in the length of time required 2   For an informative discussion of Saint-Lambert’s interpretations of tempo and character, see the introduction in Rebecca Harris-Warrick (trans. and ed.), Principles of the Harpsichord by Monsieur de Saint Lambert (Cambridge, 1984), pp. xiv–xix. HarrisWarrick quotes sources from Charles Masson (1699) to Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1768) in which the authors refer to a relationship between tempo and meter in French music. 3   The word mesuré appears frequently in printed music, but Sébastien de Brossard (Dictionaire de musique, third edition [Amsterdam, 1705], art. battuta, p. 13) also applies the term a battuta to a return to a steady beat. He writes, “A battuta veut donc dire pour lors qu’il faut recommencer à marquer ou à battre également & juste tous les temps de la mesure.” 4  Saint-Lambert, Les principes du clavecin, p. 10. 5  Harris-Warrick, Principles of the Harpsichord by Monsieur de Saint Lambert, pp. xv–xvi and p. 43, fn. 20) discusses how this interpretation applies and provides a table of tempos for various meters using this interpretation. Barred C (¢: C barré) is commonly known today as “cut time.” 6  Saint-Lambert, Les principes du clavecin, p. 10; Étienne Loulié, Elements or Principles of Music (1696), trans. and ed. Albert Cohen (New York, 1965), p. 44, fn. 21. Further on these devices, see also Eugène Borrel, “Les indications métronomiques laissées par les auteurs français du 18e siècle,” Revue de musicologie 9 (1928): 149–53; by the same author, Interpretation de la musique française (de Lully à la Révolution) (Paris, 1934); and Rebecca Harris-Warrick, “The Tempo of French Baroque Dances: Evidence from 18thCentury Metronome Devices,” Dance History Scholars Proceedings of the Fifth Annual Conference, Harvard University (February 13–15, 1982) (Cambridge, MA, 1982): 18–27.

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for the lead ball to swing could be used to indicate the tempo of a piece. His chronometer was refined by several eighteenth-century theorists, and, as Rebecca Harris-Warrick observes, their descriptions provide a record of tempos that were considered appropriate for certain French dances.7 Comparing their suggestions with examples of extant choreographies from the period between 1700 and 1725, she concludes that the tempos of a number of French dances remained remarkably stable throughout this period and probably well beyond it. She also raises a cautionary word to say that certain rhythmic features may be common to a specific dance such as the bourrée, but the tempo could still vary for different pieces. It is important to remember too that the advice offered in theoretical writings was directed toward actual dancing of such movements. Pieces that were not intended to accompany dance may not necessarily be taken at the same tempos. With these caveats in mind, we can still learn valuable lessons about the implied speed of certain dance movements. From an examination of tempos of a variety of dance movements and descriptions by theorists, Harris-Warrick concludes that several dances appear to have been performed at tempos that were much quicker than modern performers have assumed.8 One example is the menuet, which is often regarded as a moderate dance but whose tempo is indicated by both Marquet (1747) and Buchoz (1763) at a pulse of 60 for each measure (dotted half note = 60). At such a rapid pace, the menuet appears to have a much different character than is normally assumed, and this speed also suggests that the passepied, which was a similar but even faster dance notated in ³¾, would then have been taken at an extremely fast pace. Using similar evidence, Harris-Warrick observes that the chaconne, which is usually described as somewhat quicker than the passacaille, would have been taken at a considerably faster speed. Results of these and other studies demonstrate that assumptions about tempo require a flexible approach and re-evaluation from time to time. In the case of instrumental music not specifically intended for dancing, the tempo at which a dance is played may also differ somewhat. Meter signatures as an indication of tempo Even when no tempo or character mark is indicated in French music, advice about the tempo for a particular movement may be inferred from the meter signature. However, Saint-Lambert cautions readers at some length that practices varied from composer to composer, and one should not rely too much on the meter as a direct indicator of tempo.9 From a modern vantage point, the observations of French writers nevertheless offer some useful guidance, which can form the 7

  Rebecca Harris-Warrick, “The Tempo of French Baroque Dances,” pp. 14–23.   For a useful table of tempos for specific pieces as discussed by L’Affilard, d’Onzembray, and La Chapelle, see Harris-Warrick, “The Tempo of French Baroque Dances,” pp. 22–3. 9  Saint-Lambert, Les principes du clavecin, pp. 23–4. 8

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starting point for arriving at a tempo for a given movement. The way that a specific composer uses various meters can also serve as further evidence when approaching performance of works by that composer. In general, the number of different meter signatures increases during the eighteenth century: in 1736, Montéclair describes 19 different duple and triple meters.10 Even so, because the relationship between meter and tempo was not always prescriptive, composers increasingly added a further direction at the beginning of a movement or at a change of meter. Four duple meters are commonly found in French scores of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries: ¡ (quatre temps), 2 (deux temps ordinaire), ²¼, and ¢ or barred ¡ (¡ barré). Less often described, but still occasionally found in French music of this period, are þ¾, ¹¾, and þ¼. Both Dupont and Montéclair indicate that the meter ¡ is beaten in four and that it is taken at a moderate speed; its character is normally serious (grave). The meter 2 is beaten in two, with a half note receiving one beat. Both ²¼ and the rarely used ¦¾ indicate a quick tempo and light character beaten in two. The difference between 2 and ¢ is somewhat problematic. Some theorists draw little, if any, distinction between these two meters, whereas others do distinguish between them. Saint-Lambert indicates that ¢ was taken twice as fast as ¡, and that the half note in 2 is twice as fast as the half note in ¢.11 Montéclair’s advice runs counter to Saint-Lambert’s in that he describes both 2 and ¢ as meters that are beaten in half notes, but he also observes that 2 is considered to be a moderate tempo (modéré) and that ¢ can be either slow or fast (lent or leger).12 On the question of whether Saint-Lambert’s statement that the half note in 2 is twice as fast as the half note in ¢ can be taken as valid, Harris-Warrick notes that many French theorists (Loulié, Hotteterre, and Montéclair among them) agree that 2 is faster than ¢, but they do not all agree that there is a 2:1 proportion.13 Some French writers note that there is little difference between the meters 2 and ¢, and actual notational practice varies from composer to composer. Neal Zaslaw has demonstrated, for example, that Jean-Marie Leclair used both ¢ and 2 in his gavottes for violin and that, for this composer, those gavottes notated in ¢ were intended to be played at a slower tempo than those in 2.14 During the first half of the   Michel Pignolet de Montéclair, Principes de musique Divisez en quatre parties (Paris, 1736), see especially the section entitled “Mesure et mouvement,” pp. 116–19. 11  Saint-Lambert, Principes du clavecin, p. 18. 12  Montéclair, Principes de musique, p. 25. David Tunley, The Eighteenth-Century French Cantata, second edition (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997), p. 209, interprets the same passage differently; he indicates that “Montéclair distinguishes between the two signatures by saying that alla breve is slower than 2.” 13   Harris-Warrick, Principles of the Harpsichord by Monsieur de Saint Lambert, p. xvii. 14   Zaslaw, “Materials for the Life and Works of Jean-Marie Leclair l’aîné” (PhD dissertation, Columbia University, 1970), pp. 246–7. See also Example 7.4 in Chapter 7 of this book (p. 114), a prelude by Marin Marais (Book 3, 1711) in which Marais writes the viol part in ¢ and the basse continue part in 2 but obviously intends the meaning to be the same. 10

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eighteenth century, Leclair and other composers increasingly used an additional word or phrase to convey their intentions as to tempo more clearly. In many cases, words such as légèrement, gracieux, rondement, and gai bear implications as to both tempo and character, and composers often employed them in characteristic and individual ways.15 At least five triple meters are commonly used in French music: 3, ³¼, ³½, ³¾, and ݾ. With the exception of ³½, triple meters generally imply a relatively quick (gai) tempo, whereas ³½ is normally described as slow (lent) or serious (grave). According to Montéclair, ³¾ is taken twice as fast as ³¼. White (or void) notation The practice of notating certain movements with all white note heads (instead of black ones) is found occasionally in French music from the late seventeenth century until well into the eighteenth century. Known as white (or void) notation (croches blanches), this practice at times maintained some relationship to the tradition of mensural notation, but, especially in eighteenth-century music, its use was relatively rare. Because few theorists mention white notation, its meaning can be somewhat obscure for modern players. One of the few passages in which white notation is discussed comes from L’art d’apprendre la musique exposé d’une maniere nouvelle et intelligible (Paris, 1733) by a certain “Mr Vague,” who describes an interpretation that applies in many cases. He notes that white notation is found most often in the meter ³½, and that it often implies a slower-than-normal tempo: In ³½, the beats are sometimes replaced by two white eighth notes instead of two black quarter notes, or by four white sixteenth notes instead of four black eighth notes, or finally by a number of such eighth and sixteenth notes equivalent to two white eighth notes. This notation marks a much slower tempo in such movements. (Les Tems du Triple Majeur ³½, sont quelque fois remplis par deux croches [2 void eighth notes], au lieu de 2 noires [2 black quarter notes]; ou par quatre Double croches Blanches [4 void sixteenth notes], à la place de quatre croches noires [4 black eighth notes]; ou enfin par un nombre de ces croches et doubles croches blanches équivalã [sic] a deux [2 void eighth notes]. Ce qui marque une plus grande lenteur dans les mouvements.)16 15   See Lionel Sawkins, “Doucement and légèrement: Tempo in French Baroque Music,” Early Music 21 (August, 1993): 365–74, in which the author discusses both general practice and Lalande’s tempo indications. He points out (pp. 368–9) that both gracieux (or gracieusement) and rondement indicated a moderate tempo, with the latter also implying forward motion. 16   [First name unknown] V[ague], L’art d’apprendre la musique exposé d’une maniere nouvelle et intelligible (Paris, 1733), p. 52. The author is named as “le Sieur Vague” in the

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Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s practice with regard to white notation stands out as unusual, perhaps even unique among seventeenth-century composers. He used white notation extensively, always in triple time and often (but not exclusively) in contexts where a tempo/character mark indicates a slow tempo.17 After studying 250 examples of Charpentier’s use of white notation in his autograph scores, Shirley Thompson concluded that not all of them indicated a slow tempo, although many do. As Thompson acknowledges, scholarly opinion is divided as to whether white notation has implications for choice of tempo or proportional relationship with previous or succeeding tempos.18 That white notation continued to be used even beyond 1750 is demonstrated by its inclusion in Henri Louis Choquel’s La musique rendue sensible par la méchanique in 1762.19 Examples of white notation can be found in solo and chamber music by François Couperin, Thomas-Louis Bourgeois, Louis-Nicolas Clérambault, and other French composers of the early eighteenth century. Jean-Baptiste Forqueray uses it in two pieces (La Léon and La Silva, Ve Suite) from his Pieces de viole avec la Basse Continuë (Paris, 1747), but whether he uses it with a specific meaning is open to question. It may be that he chose white notation as a way of heightening the tender affect of both pieces. La Sylva is written in ¢ with a mark of tres tendrement, and La Léon is designated as a sarabande in ³½, also marked tendrement (see Figure 6.1). Forqueray also published the viol solos as transcriptions for harpsichord (Pieces de viole … mises en Pieces de Clavecin, 1747), and in the latter version of La Léon he includes a direction indicating that the player should arpeggiate chords so that the upper part “is rarely played precisely with the bass” (le dessus ne se trouvant

privilege, which is dated August 30, 1733. 17   Shirley Thompson, “Once More into the Void: Charpentier’s croches blanches Reconsidered,” Early Music 30 (February, 2002): 82–92. For example, Sawkins (“Doucement and légèrement,” p. 365) cites Esprit Blanchard’s use of ³½ white notation in his Jubilate (1743) as a late example of the tradition, and notes that it evokes a “majestic tempo.” Further examples of void notation in music with obbligato viol by French composers may be found in Julie Anne Sadie, The Bass Viol in French Baroque Chamber Music, Studies in Musicology no. 26, ed. George Buelow Ann Arbor, MI, 1980, pp. 77, 89, and 131, in works by Bousset, Clérambault, François Colin de Blamont, and others. 18   Thompson, “Once More into the Void,” p. 83. 19   Henri Louis Choquel, La musique rendue sensible par la méchanique (Paris, 1762), p. 107: “[on ³½ meter] On fait quelque fois des croches blanches dans cette sorte de mesure, pour ne pas employer des noires lorsqu’il s’agit de diviser les blanches part raport au chant, c’est ainsi que l’a pratiqué M. Clerambault, dans sa Cantate d’Alphée & Aréthuse, de sorte qu’on doit s’attendre à trouver de ces sortes de croches ailleurs.” (One sometimes writes white eighth notes in this meter, in order not to use black ones when it is a question of dividing the half notes in relation to the melody; this is what M. Clerambault has done in his cantata, Alphée et Aréthuse, so that one must expect to find these sorts of [white] quarter notes elsewhere.)

Figure 6.1

Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, La Léon from Pieces de viole (Paris, 1747) for viol and basse continue. Reproduced with the permission of the British Library Board. All rights reserved.

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presque jamais d’aplomb avec la Basse).20 The harpsichord version contains some chords that are intentionally misaligned, with the bass normally preceding the right hand. This unusual direction for the harpsichordist may have been Forqueray’s attempt to imitate the way that chords are broken (from the bass upward) on the viol. In any case, whether white notation in these two cases indicates a slowerthan-normal tempo for the two sarabandes is not certain. Comparison with another sarabande in the same collection (Sarabande. La D’aubonne, IVe Suite), which is notated in 3 in normal (black) notation, shows that Forqueray also directs that this movement should be performed with “much taste and sentiment” (beaucoup de goût et de sentiment), although there is no mark of tendrement in this case, and the rhythmic motion proceeds more steadily in quarter-note motion than is the case in La Léon. Taken altogether, the meter, character, rhythmic motion, and white notation all appear to suggest that a particularly expressive interpretation is warranted and that a slower-than-usual tempo may also be appropriate. Italian tempo and character marks in French music During the eighteenth century, composers increasingly chose to add a further direction at the beginning of a movement or at a change of meter; such designations usually tell us more about the tempo than the meter itself does.21 Words or phrases indicating tempo and character are most often expressed in French (the most common ones being vîte for fast, modéré for moderate, and lent for slow), but, with the increasing popularity of Italian music after 1700, composers frequently chose to add such directions in Italian. Because Italian tempo indications are still in common use today, it is important to consider them carefully when encountered in French eighteenth-century works, since they may bear additional meaning as to articulation and character than their literal meaning implies. Brossard’s and Rousseau’s definitions of Italian marks for slow to moderate tempos (Table 6.1) and moderate to fast tempos (Table 6.2) offer a useful comparison of some of the most common tempo and character indications. Even though their statements were published more than 50 years apart, there are undeniable similarities between them. Unusual from a modern point of view is the fact that nearly all of the tempo marks bore implications as to other characteristics   Jean-Baptiste Forqueray , “La Léon, Sarabande,” Pieces de viole avec la Basse Continuë (Paris, 1747), p. 30. The meter of the viol piece, “La Léon,” is shown as 2/3 rather than ³½; this is very likely an engraver’s error that went uncorrected, since the harpsichord version correctly shows ³½. 21   Montéclair, Principes de musique, p. 117: “Pour prouver que tous ces differents signes ne sont pas capables de déterminer absolument le veritable degrè de lenteur ou de vitesse du mouvement desiré, c’est qu’on trouve presque toujours à la teste d’une piece de Musique l[’]un des termes suivants.” (In order to prove that these different time signatures are not intended to determine absolutely the true slowness or quickness of the desired tempo, one finds nearly always at the beginning of a piece of music one of the following terms.) 20

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such as articulation and dynamics. Also perhaps surprising for modern players is the way that several words can be interpreted similarly, with apparently little real difference in speed implied. For example, Largo and Grave are described in fairly similar terms as to speed, but Largo carries more expressive and dynamic implications that link it to the emotion the performer wishes to convey, whereas Grave denotes a serious and majestic manner. Similarly, the difference in speed between Allegro and Vivace does not appear to be significant; they are described in quite similar ways by both writers. Inequality Just as the meter formed a starting point for determining the tempo of a French Baroque composition, the meter signature also provided clues to performers about how to apply a convention of rhythmic notation known as inequality (notes inégales). Typically reserved for French music, or music performed in the French style, inequality was applied to rhythms that were notated equally but were intended to be sung or played unequally. Under certain circumstances, such notes were performed in a long-short pattern or, more rarely, inequality could be applied in a short-long pattern. Inequality usually applies to notes that occur in stepwise (or nearly stepwise) motion when the mood of the piece is gentle, tender, or graceful. In such cases, the first of a pair of notes is stressed or lengthened, but the actual amount of inequality may vary from slight to quite pronounced. Since inequality contributes to the affect being communicated, the small variations in interpretation that a performer uses in applying inequality add individuality to a performance. The nuances of inequality were so subtle that notating them in the music was either too time-consuming or deemed to be impossible. The practice of playing notes unequally was such a well-established practice in France during the late seventeenth century and eighteenth centuries that composers often marked when they intended it not to apply rather than when it did apply. Even though inequality was understood to be an essential element of French musical style, questions of its origin, definition, and application have encouraged lively debate in the twentieth-century musicological literature.22 One of the reasons that the convention of notes inégales has continued to give rise to interpretive argument is not because there is little information available about it, but rather because it was discussed by so many theorists, and because composers expected performers to understand its application as normal and obligatory. Questions of origin and definition of inequality are inextricably connected. The farther back one traces the notion that ornamental (usually rapid) passages may be enhanced or enlivened by performing them in long-short or short-long patterns, 22   For a detailed history and discussion of rhythmic inequality, see Stephen E. Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration in Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Music: Notes inégales and Overdotting (New York, 1993).

Table 6.1 Largo

Grave

Adagio

Slow to moderate Italian tempo marks as described by Brossard and J.-J. Rousseau Brossard: “Very slowly, by expanding the tempo and marking the time with large, often unequal beats. This often happens especially in the recitative of Italians, in which the beats are often not very regular, because it is a type of declamation in which the singer must follow the movement of the emotion which agitates him or which he wishes to express rather than an equal and regular tempo.”

Brossard: Fort lentement, comme en élargissant la mesure & marquant de grands temps souvent inégaux, &c. Ce qui arrive sur tout dans la Recitative des Italiens, dans lequel souvent on ne fait pas les temps bien égaux, parce que c’est une espece de declamation où l’Acteur doit suivre plutôt le mouvement de la passion qui l’agite ou qu’il veut exprimer, que celuy d’une mesure égale & reglée. (p. 51)

Rousseau: “indicates a tempo slower than Adagio…, the slowest of all the slow tempo marks. It indicates that one must swell the long notes, stretch the beats and measures, etc. The diminutive Larghetto indicates a tempo a little faster than Largo…”

Rousseau: …indique un mouvement plus lent que l’Adagio, & le dernier de tous en lenteur. Il marque qu’il faut filer de longs Sons, étendre les temps, & la mesure, &c. Le diminutif Larghetto annonce un mouvement un peu moins lent que Largo… (p. 263)

Brossard: “…one must beat time and sing or play in a grave, serious way, with majesty, and therefore almost always slowly.”

Brossard: il faut battre la mesure & chanter ou jouer gravement, posément, avec majesté, & par consequent presque toûjours lentement. (p. 43)

Rousseau: “serious or seriously … means a slow tempo, and also a certain gravity in the performance.”

Rousseau: Grave ou Gravement … marque lenteur dans le mouvement, & de plus, une certain gravité dans l’exécution. (p. 233)

Brossard: “Comfortable, at ease, without hurrying; therefore almost always slowly and holding the tempo back a little.”

Brossard: Commodement, à son aise, sans se presser, par consequent presque toûjours lentement & traînant un peu la Mesure. (p. 8)

Rousseau: “…in Italian music. Adagio … signifies at ease, seriously…”

Rousseau: …dans la Musique Italienne. Adagio … signifie, à l’aise, posément… (p. 27)

Affettuoso

Andante

Brossard: “With great feeling, tenderly, and therefore nearly always slowly.”

Brossard: très-affectueusement, tendrement &c. & par consequent presque toûjours Lentement. (p. 8)

Rousseau: “…indicates a speed halfway between Andante and Adagio, and in the melody an affectionate and soft character.”

Rousseau: …indique un mouvement moyen entre l’Andante & l’Adagio, & dans la caractère du Chant une expression affectueuse & douce. (p. 27)

Brossard: “To proceed along with equal step, which means for the Basse Continue that all notes must be played equal, with the notes clearly separated.”

Brossard: Aller, cheminer à pas egaux, veut dire pour les Basses Continues qu’il faut faire toutes le Nottes egales, &c en bien séparer les Sons. (p. 9)

Rousseau: “… in Italian music. It signifies a tempo moving ahead without being gay, and which corresponds reasonably with a movement designated in French by the word Gracieusement.”

Rousseau: …dans la Musique Italienne. Il caractérise un mouvement marqué sans être gai, & qui répond à peu-près à celui qu’on désigne en François par le mot Gracieusement. (p. 32)

Sources: Sébastien de Brossard, Dictionaire (sic) de musique, third edition (Amsterdam, 1705); Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768)

Table 6.2 Allegro

Vivace

Presto/ Prestissimo

Medium to fast Italian tempo marks as described by Brossard and J.-J. Rousseau Brossard: “Always signifies lively and well animated; very often quickly and lightly; but also sometimes taken at a moderate speed, although gay and animated.”

Brossard: .signifie toujours gayement, & bien animé; fort souvent vite & legerement; mais aussi quelquefois d’un mouvement moderé, quoyque gay, & animé. (p. 9)

Rousseau: “Allegro means gay, and it is also the indication of a gay tempo, the quickest of all except for presto. But one must not think that because of that it is proper only to gay subjects; it applies often to transports of fury, frenzy and despair, which are scarcely any less gay.”

Rousseau: Allegro, signifie gai; & c’est aussi l’indication d’un mouvement gai, le plus vif du tous après le presto. Mais il ne faut pas croire pour cela que ce mouvement ne soit propre qu’à des sujets gais; il s’applique souvent à des transports de fureur, d’emportement & de désespoir, qui n’ont rien moins que de la gaiété. (p. 31)

Brossard: “…one must sing or play with fire, liveliness, and spirit. It also often means to play or sing quickly or with a bold, lively, animated tempo. It is almost like Allegro.”

Brossard: il faut chanter ou jouër avec feu, avec vivacité, avec esprit, &c. C’est aussi souvent jouër ou chanter vîte, ou d’un mouvement hardi, vif, animé, &c. C’est à peu près comme Allegro. (p. 249)

Rousseau: “Lightly … indicates a tempo quicker than Gay; a tempo halfway between gay and quick. Legerement nearly corresponds to the Italian Vivace.”

Rousseau: [Legerement] … indique un mouvement encore plus vif que le Gai; un mouvement moyen entre le gai & le vîte. Il répond à-peu-près à l’Italien Vivace. (p. 263)

Brossard: “means Quick. That is to say that the tempo must be hurried, or the beats made very short. It usually indicates gaity, rage, fury, or rapidity … Presto or Prestissimo means very quick.”

Brossard: Veut dire, Vite. C’est à dire qu’il faut presser la mesure, ou en rendre le temps fort courts. Ce qui marque ordinairement, de la gayeté, ou de l’emportement, de la fureur, de la rapidité, &c … Presto, ou Prestissimo veut dire tres vite. (p. 97)

Rousseau: “Presto means quick. Sometimes it is marked even more quickly with the superlative prestissimo.”

Rousseau: Presto signifie vîte. Quelquefois on marque un Mouvement encore plus pressé par le superlatif prestissimo. (pp. 384–5)

Sources: Sébastien de Brossard, Dictionaire [sic] de musique, third edition (Amsterdam, 1705) ; Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768)

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the broader the definition of inequality becomes. If one applies a very broad definition, then inequality has been used in performance since at least the Middle Ages. A more narrow definition might seek its origins in the French language and declamatory speech. Another point of origin may have been early keyboard fingering, where the use of two fingers in a repeated pattern may relate to longshort (or short-long) rhythmic patterns in performance. However, both of the latter explanations are probably too narrow to explain a concept that was widespread and used both in singing and on virtually all instruments. In the sixteenth century, the concept of inequality was described by French and Spanish writers as a way of embellishing diminutions (also called divisions), usually on eighth notes, and thereby performing them in either long-short or short-long patterns. However different this style of jagged, usually sharply dotted performance may have sounded from the practice and application of notes inégales in French Baroque music, it is difficult to separate one practice from another based on existing theoretical advice. If the practices of sharply dotting notes and performing them in a gently unequal way are related, then that relationship lends support to the notion that a dotted style of performance applied widely both to French and non-French music during the Baroque era.23 The question of whether inequality (in either of its definitions as sharply dotted or as lilting, gentle inequality) should be applied outside of France has been one of the main points of disagreement in modern times.24 For the present discussion, we are concerned primarily with the roots of inequality as it was practiced in France, its defining characteristics, and what conventions governed its application in various musical situations. In any case, aside from a few documented cases of the application of notes inégales outside of France, foreign music was considered to be exempt from this practice.25 Seeking to identify the origin of inequality as it was practiced in France, Stephen Hefling points to the middle of the sixteenth century and the writing of Loys Bourgeois, who describes the performance of notes written equally as if they were dotted in a long-short manner in order to give them “more grace” (meilleure grace).26 French sources for this practice are scant until the second half of the seventeenth century, when Guillaume Gabriel Nivers, Bénigne de Bacilly, Perrine (whose first name is unknown), and others describe a practice that appears to have 23

  David Fuller and others consider the convention of dotting notes as intertwined with the history of French notes inégales. See his chapter, “The ‘Dotted Style’ in Bach, Handel, and Scarlatti,” in Bach, Handel, and Scarlatti ed. Peter Williams (Cambridge, 1985), pp. 99–118. 24   See for example, David Fuller, “Notes and inégales Unjoined: Defending a Definition,” Journal of Musicology 7 (1989): 21–8, which responds to Frederick Neumann, “The notes inégales Revisited,” Journal of Musicology 6 (1988): 133–49. 25   Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration, documents the meager number examples of inequality in sources outside of France in a table on pp. 10–11. 26   Further on Bourgeois and also on rhythmic alteration as described in Spanish and Italian sources in the early seventeenth century, see Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration, pp. 3–5.

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been well known. The characteristics mentioned by these theorists and composers mirror Loys Bourgeois’s earlier description. They are in agreement on at least two concepts that remain central to its application: that the actual degree of inequality may vary according to the character of a piece and that, somewhat paradoxically, when performing a piece at a very fast tempo, inequality is not used at all. From the late seventeenth century onward, French writers describe how inequality is linked to meter; specifically, meter is used as a means of determining which type of notes ought to be interpreted as unequal in French music. Advice on the application of inequality can be found in numerous treatises from the period 1680 to 1760, including Georg Muffat (1698), Saint-Lambert (1702), Michel L’Affilard (1705), Michel Pignolet de Montéclair (1709 and 1736), and Pierre Dupont (1718). Generally, theorists at this time indicate that duple meters are treated differently: in ¡, sixteenth notes are played unequally, whereas in 2 eighth notes receive unequal interpretation. In triple meters, the eighth notes are played unequally in 3, whereas quarter notes are unequal in ³½. As both Neumann and Hefling have shown, there is a high degree of similarity in the way that French theorists describe inequality in treatises from the 1680s and continuing for nearly a century thereafter.27 Despite some ambiguities that may arise from study and comparison of all of these sources, it appears that there is a remarkable consistency of approach to the subject of inequality, especially in eighteenth-century sources. By considering a number of musical and theoretical sources, it is possible to arrive at a useful set of “rules” for modern players that can form a starting point for gaining an understanding of when, where, and how to apply inequality. String players also need to consider carefully how bow strokes will be managed when adding inequality. In general, it is easier to perform patterns of unequal notes when they are slurred in twos (or fours in a livelier tempo), but they can also be performed separately. The latter case presents something of a challenge, since successive long-short bow strokes can easily result in what is commonly known as running out of bow, which, as every string player knows, leaves one at the tip of the bow with no usable hair for the next bow stroke. The situation can be alleviated by giving some thought to the dynamic nature of inequality. Since many seventeenth- and eighteenth-century writers describe inequality in treatises intended for the harpsichord, the emphasis in such sources tends to be placed on inequality as primarily a rhythmic alteration, but an agogic accent of this nature also adds stress to the first of a pair of notes. Singers, as well as wind and string players, need to be cognizant of how dynamic shading and subtle stress or accent can contribute to inequality. Indeed, string players in particular must manage the bow when performing a repeated pattern of long-short notes so that one employs equal amounts of bow for each stroke. This can be accomplished either by adjusting the speed of the alternating bow strokes—drawing the bow more quickly on the 27   See the tables on pp. 8–11 in Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration, which draws on Neumann, “The French inégales, Quantz and Bach,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 18 (1965), pp. 322–3.

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short bow stroke, for example—or by performing the “long” part of a long-short pattern with a slight weight or stress applied to the stroke. The “short” portion thus receives a lighter, unstressed stroke. Applying alternate stress and release to pairs of notes achieves an effect similar to that of agogic accent on the harpsichord. The equivalency of these approaches has not been widely discussed in the modern literature, but it is an essential part of the subtlety involved in using inequality on bowed string instruments and in managing the bow well. In order to identify a convenient set of “rules” for applying inequality in French music, we can use a two-step approach. First, one ought to consider the principal style characteristics of a single piece or movement. Inequality was understood to apply to music that has a French character which would include, for example, most suite movements and those with dance titles such as gavotte, musette, allemande, and sarabande, as well as a great many other pieces that have similar characteristics but may not bear such titles. The first set of criteria consist of the following characteristics, all of which must be present in order for inequality to apply: • an overall character or affect that is tender, graceful, gentle, or amorous (if the piece is sung, the words will be useful in determining overall affect) • a tempo that falls somewhere between slow and lively, but is not extremely fast • rhythmic motion in largely stepwise patterns, or with occasional leaps of a third or fourth. If any of the above criteria are not met in a given movement, then inequality probably does not apply. Obvious examples of pieces where inequality does not apply include pieces that are martial, march-like, or otherwise heavily accented; pieces that are extremely fast; and pieces that feature melodies with leaping motion or melodic figuration involving leaps. Theorists were consistent in warning that any such characteristics would normally negate the use of inequality. In further determining how to use inequality, players must also decide at which rhythmic level it ought to be applied in a given piece. In general, inequality is applied in the following ways at one rhythmic level within a piece (or within a single movement or large section of a piece):28 Although the meter is not the only indicator, theorists tell us that it offers a useful starting point for determining which notes will be played unequally. The following general rules can be used as a guide: 28   For a complete table of meter-inequality relationships as described by French theorists from 1687 to 1772, see Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration, pp. 8–10 and also the same author’s useful summary of the characteristics of inequality, pp. 142–3. Also highly recommended is the survey of French treatises (with relevant quotations and interpretation) by Jean Saint-Arroman, “Les inégalités,” in L’interpretation de la musique française aux XVIIème et XVIIIème siècles, Paris, 20–26 octobre 1969, ed. Édith Weber (Paris, 1974), pp. 67–86.

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• in the meter ³½, inequality is applied at the quarter-note level • in the meters 2, ³¼, and 3, inequality is applied at the eighth-note level • in ¢ (barred C or “cut time”), if beaten in two beats (i.e., fairly quickly), inequality is applied at the eighth-note level • in ¡, inequality is applied at the sixteenth-note level • in compound meters (³¾, þ¾, and ¹¾), inequality is applied at the sixteenthnote level • in ¢, when the tempo is beaten in four (i.e., fairly slowly, as in an allemande), inequality is applied at the sixteenth-note level. Using the aforementioned characteristics as a guide, performers need additionally to look for musical features that might negate inequality in a given piece, such as a march-like character or a written direction in the music. By the early eighteenth century, the French convention of interpreting notes in a rhythmically unequal pattern had become standard practice, so that composers needed to indicate in their music if they wished it not to apply. There was no standard way of indicating the negation of notes inégales, but probably the most common way was to add a direction such as “notes égales” or “croches égales” (equal notes, or equal eighth notes) to a passage of notes of a single rhythmic value. For example, Montéclair advises that, if a composer wished to indicate that notes inégales were not intended in pieces notated in 3 or ³¼, it was necessary to use a mark such as notes égales.29 Occasionally, composers used dots or strokes above the notes to indicate equality, or another word such as détaché.30 Because of the variety of ways that equal notes might be marked, some difficulty arises for modern players as to whether marks such as “piqué” (or “piquer”) refer to an equal interpretation, or whether such indications may imply another interpretation such as staccato. The practices of individual composers varied somewhat, and it may be necessary in such cases to compare the ways that a composer notates similar passages in several compositions. A few examples from the chamber music and solo literature for strings serve to illustrate a range of possibilities in the application of inequality. The gavotte by Boismortier for viol and basse continue in Example 6.1 demonstrates a relatively simple case in which inequality should certainly apply. In general, the gavotte has a character that, according to Brossard, is “sometimes gay, sometimes serious” (quelquefois gays, quelquefois graves).31 This one is notated in 2 with nearly continuous eighth-note motion in the melody and bass line, some notes  Montéclair, Principes de musique, p. 30: “Quand le compositeur veut que les croches soient egalles dans la mesure à trois tems, marqué par, 3, ou, ³¼, Il ecrit au dessus. Croches Egalles.” 30   Further on the different ways that composers indicated notes égales, see Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration, p. 21 and Chapter 2 passim. See also Example 5.7 in Chapter 5 of this book (p. 82) on the interpretation of dots. 31  Brossard, Dictionaire de musique, p. 41. 29

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slurred in pairs and others without any slurs. The two quarter-note upbeats are also characteristic of this particular dance. In this case, inequality would apply to all of the stepwise eighth notes in both the viol and the basse continue parts (but probably not to the leap of a sixth in measure 1, beat 3). Example 6.1 Joseph Bodin de Boismortier, Gavotte in G major from Trente et un.e œuvre … contenant diverses pieces de viole avec la Baße chifrée (Paris, 1730)

The air “Que vos yeux sont charmans!” from Morin’s cantata La naufrage d’Ulisse (1712), for soprano, treble instrument, and basse continue, is notated in þ¾ with the mark gracieusement. Although the accompanying instruments are unspecified in this air, elsewhere in the cantata there are indications for violins, recorders (flûtes), and viol or cello (basse de viole ou de violon). This air begins with eighth-note motion in the treble part and continues with stepwise sixteenth notes (Example 6.2). Light inequality applies in this case at the sixteenth note level. A sarabande in G minor by Caix d’Hervelois from his Troisiéme œuvre … contenant quatre suites de pieces pour la viole, avec la baße chifrée (Paris, 1731), in Example 6.3, demonstrates a slightly more complex situation with regard to the application of inequality, wherein stepwise eighth-note motion occurs in both the melody and bass line. The basse continue part bears the mark “croches égales” (equal eighth notes), very likely because it bears a mixture of leaping

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and stepwise notes. Jean-Jacques Rousseau describes the sarabande as a “serious dance” (danse grave) that had gone out of fashion by the mid-eighteenth century.32 If the overall tempo is not too slow to warrant subtle inequality on the occasional pairs of stepwise eighth notes in the solo viol part, they may still apply despite the composer’s direction to the contrary for the basse continue. It would also be possible to interpret Caix d’Hervelois’s direction as intended for both parts and to perform the movement in a serious manner without any inequality. Example 6.2 Jean-Baptiste Morin, “Que vos yeux sont charmans!” from the cantata La naufrage d’Ulisse (1712)

  Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768), art. Sarabande: “Air d’une Danse grave … cette danse n’est plus en usage” (p. 423). 32

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Example 6.3 Louis de Caix d’Hervelois, Sarabande in G minor from Troisiéme œuvre … contenant quatre suites de pieces pour la viole, avec la baße chifrée (Paris, 1731)

Example 6.4 Jean-Baptiste Morin, “Ouvrez vos sombres precipices,” air from the cantata Dom Quixotte (1712)

Two additional examples demonstrate some of the ways that composers may choose to add specific directions about inequality. Normally such directions communicate the composer’s intentions in passages that may otherwise be ambiguous, although at times even such indications do not necessarily remove all traces of ambiguity. In Morin’s cantata Dom Quixotte for bass voice, treble instrument (violin), and basse continue (1712), the air “Ouvrez vos sombres precipices” begins with an instrumental prelude marked “Vivement, et marqué”

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in ¡ (Example 6.4) in which sixteenth-note motion predominates. It contains much disjunct motion and some thirty-second-note runs; with a mark of vivement, it appears likely that inequality would not be used. The word “marqué” is slightly problematic in connection with inequality, but, as Hefling has noted, it is not usually associated with inequality.33 In the passage shown in Example 6.4, marqué appears to indicate a detached, accented manner of performing the sixteenth-note figures. The final air in Morin’s cantata depicts the death of Dom Quixotte with a middle section (at the words “Déja mon Ombre est poursuivie”) marked tombeau. This air begins with a long instrumental introduction marked “Pesamment” in ¢, with staccato dots on the quarter notes, indicating short, heavy bow strokes (Example 6.5a). In this case, the decision as to whether inequality would apply depends on the performers’ choice of tempo: if the pulse is beaten in two, some inequality could be applied to the slurred pairs of eighth notes, but if the pulse is beaten more slowly (in 4), inequality would not be applied, since sixteenth notes are not present. At the beginning of the middle section (Example 6.5b) of the same air, at which point the meter changes to ¡, Morin includes an unusually lengthy direction: “Lentement, Marqué, Soûtenu, et un peu piqué” (slowly, accented, sustained, and somewhat unequal). Here he indicates that the sixteenth notes to which he adds dots in the first measure should be interpreted unequally. The sixteenth-note figures in both the treble and basse continue parts should be lightly dotted in this case. Example 6.5 (a) Jean-Baptiste Morin, beginning of the final air in the cantata, Dom Quixotte

  Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration, pp. 21–2, comments: “Brossard associates marqué with performing in strict time, as opposed to the free style of récitatif. As Saint-Arroman has documented, such was fairly common usage, but this has no specific bearing on the performance of notes inégales.” 33

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(b) Middle section of the final air (at the words, “Déja mon Ombre est poursuivie”)

Although Morin’s dotted figures leave little ambiguity in this case that a rhythmic alteration is intended (since, in this case, the word “Soûtenu” [sustained] is also marked), there are other occasions when the word piqué is used as an indication for a staccato interpretation. In fact, Brossard goes as far as to define piqué as a synonym for staccato: STACCATO or stoccato means very nearly the same thing as spiccato. That is to say that, on all bowed instruments, one must draw strokes of the bow dryly, without slurring and well detached or separated one from the other; this is almost what we call in French, piqué or pointé.

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(STACCATO ou Stoccato, veut dire à peu pres la même chose que Spiccato. C’est à dire que, sur tout les Instruments à Archet, doivent faire leur coups d’Archet sans trainer, & bien détachez ou separez les uns des autres. C’est presque ce que nours appellons en François, Picqué ou Pointé.)34

As Hefling observes,35 there are examples of the word piqué used in passages for string instruments by La Ferté, Jean-François Dandrieu, and Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville. Performers need to examine each of these instances on a case-by-case basis, since piqué often implies a crisp articulation and equal note values, but, as the previous example by Morin shows, it can occasionally be used to indicate inequality.

 Brossard, Dictionnaire de musique, p. 135.   Hefling, Rhythmic Alteration, pp. 24–5.

34 35

Chapter 7

Ornamentation and Special Effects French Ornament Signs and Their Interpretation The array of different ornament signs (agréments) that French composers employed in their music can be a potential source of confusion for players today. Not only were there many different signs that represent the same ornament, but there were often several different names for a single ornament. Some composers employed familiar ornament signs without further explanation; only a few composers included explanations of how the signs they used should be interpreted. Fewer still added a table of ornament signs that applied to their music. Another source of confusion for players today arises from what is essentially the same ornament being marked with a different sign for the voice than for harpsichord; ornament signs in solo viol music may also be different from those in violin music. Fortunately, most French ornaments used in Baroque music fall into a few general categories, each of which can be understood to include several variants. Among the most common are trills, mordents, and appoggiaturas. Each of these categories will be discussed below, followed by explanations for a few additional ornaments that appear in French music for strings. During the latter part of the seventeenth century and in the eighteenth century in particular, a number of rarely used devices or techniques begin to appear in French music for strings. Some of them will be familiar (such as the use of mutes), whereas certain other techniques may be new to modern players. In the latter group, for example, one can cite Leclair’s use of the left thumb to stop notes on the fingerboard of the violin, or François Martin’s puzzling use of the player’s chin to stop notes on the cello fingerboard. During the eighteenth century, beginning with Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville, composers began to experiment with the use of harmonics, especially in solo violin music. These techniques will be discussed near the end of this chapter in the section entitled “special effects.” Trills, appoggiaturas, and mordents The most common ornament one encounters in French music of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is the trill, which is performed on the beat and begins on the upper note (a half or whole step above the printed note); the trill is a quickly repeated alternation of these two notes. It normally consists of at least two alternations (or four notes total), but it can be longer. The trill had several different names, the most common of which were tremblement or cadence. The most common symbols for the trill in string music were a cross (+ or ×)

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or horizontal zigzag mark. In viol music in particular, a comma immediately following the note head was also used to indicate a trill. When indicated by one of these signs, the reiterations of a trill were normally performed within a single bow stroke, but, in the seventeenth century in particular, there are examples of trill-like figures written out in separate notes too. The conclusion of Demachy’s Prelude for solo (unaccompanied) viol in D minor shown in Example 7.1 illustrates several trills (marked with a comma after the note) and one trill-like figure that is bowed separately. For this figure, each reiteration of the trill is precisely indicated in rhythmic notation, and the upper note of the trill is marked (rather unnecessarily) with the fingering “4” each time to indicate that it should be played as a stopped note, not as an open string. Also included in this passage are mordents (marked with an x after the note). Like Demachy’s preludes in tablature for solo viol which also appear in his Pieces en Musique et en Tablature… (Paris, 1685), this prelude is essentially unmeasured, although various rhythms of mixed values are used, in a manner similar to that used in unmeasured preludes for harpsichord at the time. In the eighteenth century, the written-out trill with separate bow strokes is rarely used. Example 7.1 Demachy, Prelude in D minor for solo (unaccompanied) viol, Pieces de violle (1685)

Among the early treatises to include instructions on the performance of trills and other ornaments, Bénigne de Bacilly’s Remarques curieuses sur l’art de bien chanter (Paris, 1668) is regarded as the most important, especially for the voice. Bacilly describes nine different ornaments, some of which continued to be described and practiced for at least a half-century thereafter in treatises by Pierre Dupont (Principes de musique par demandes et par réponses, 1719), Alexandre de Villeneuve (Nouvelle méthode très courte et très facile avec un nombre de

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leçons assez suffisant pour apprendre la musique et les agréments du chant, 1733), and Michel Pignolet de Montéclair (Principes de musique, 1736). Among treatises for harpsichord and string instruments, those of Saint-Lambert (1702), Michel de Montéclair (1711), and Jean Rousseau (1687) offer important advice that can be applied to most French string music of the period 1680 to 1760. Additional advice on viol ornamentation can also be found in the prefatory material to the solo viol music of Demachy and Marin Marais. There are many other original sources for the study of French ornamentation, but the aforementioned ones offer a representative selection for guidance in forming an understanding of conventions that apply to both solo and chamber music for strings. Since the upper note of a trill is normally dissonant and occurs on the beat, a trill often functions as an accent, in which case it is performed as a short, rapid ornament. Saint-Lambert describes short trills as ideally performed “as equally and as quickly as possible” (le plus également & le plus promptement que l’on peut).1 When a trill occurs on a long note, it may also be performed in a longer, more expressive fashion. Most writers agree that, in performing this type of trill, the upper (dissonant) note of the trill is first held before the trill begins. Saint-Lambert also indicates that it is “more beautiful to begin it slowly at first, and to increase its speed at the end” (il est plus beau de le battre lentement d’abord, & de ne le presser qu’à la fin),2 which is similar to François Couperin’s advice concerning the speed of trills. However, it is possible that such indications may be specific to the harpsichord, for the few comments about the speed of trills from string treatises suggest that an even beating was more common. Montéclair, for example, indicates that the upper note of a long trill should be held for half the value of the written note; the trill should then be beaten “equally and slowly” using a single bow stroke.3 His examples show that a trill may also be played from the first finger to an open string, a situation that is often encountered in the written fingerings in viol solos by Marais and other composers. Demachy also indicates that in his viol solos he intends a long trill to be beaten equally.4 The short trill, usually consisting of only four notes, was played rapidly and served in many cases when an ornament was needed on a relatively short note. It was called by several different names, including demi-tremblement or the tremblement subit. By the time Michel Corrette published his treatise for violin (L’École d’Orphée, 1738), the cross sign (+) was so versatile and familiar to players that he found it unnecessary to explain it in detail. He adds that a trill is sometimes indicated with a t sign but that the meaning is the same. Trills may finish with a turned ending, which may be written with small notes, but turned endings are not otherwise considered obligatory.  Saint-Lambert, Les principes du clavecin (Paris, 1702), p. 43.   Ibid., p. 43. 3   Michel Pignolet de Montéclair, Méthode facile pour apprendre a jouër du violon (Paris, [1711 or 1712]), p. 9. 4  Demachy, Pieces en musique et en tablature (Paris, 1685), avertissement, p. 8: “Il faut appuyer le tremblement selon la valeur de la notte, & le faire égal.” 1 2

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The appoggiatura (port de voix) is most often indicated with a small note (petite note) that is performed on the beat and slurred to the principal note. It is usually described as taking half the value of the note it accompanies; it was written as a small note in order to identify it clearly as an ornament. The slur is not always present, but it is implied, and the appoggiatura and principal note are performed in a single bow stroke.5 The appoggiatura can be done on either a half step or a whole step, whichever is appropriate to the key of the piece, and at the player’s discretion it may finish with a trill. The mordent (pincé), usually marked with an “×” or a short horizontal zigzag mark, is performed by rapidly alternating the written note with its lower neighbor, either a half step or a whole step below. Most often it is performed as a three-note ornament, but at the player’s discretion it can have more reiterations, especially when it occurs on on a long note. Like the previously described ornaments, the mordent had several different names. Pincé was the most common name, but it was sometimes called a battement, martellement, or, in its longer form, a double martellement. Like the trill, the mordent may begin with an appoggiatura, written as a small note which is slurred to the mordent. Example 7.2 Louis de Caix d’Hervelois, Prélude in D major for solo viol and basse continue, from Troisiéme œuvre … contenant quatre suites de pieces pour la viole avec la baße chifrée (Paris, 1731)

  The principle that petites notes are understood to have slurs is mentioned specifically in an ornament table by a certain Mr Toinon, author of a set of trio sonatas that became part of Sébastien de Brossard’s collection; see David Fuller, “An Unknown French Ornament Table from 1699,” Early Music 9 (January, 1981): 55. 5

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The passage in Example 7.2 shows the opening phrase of a Prelude in D major for solo viol and basse continue by Louis de Caix d’Hervelois from his Troisiéme œuvre … contenant quatre suites de pieces pour la viole avec la baße chifrée (Paris, 1731), which is marked lentement (slowly). Short trills add definition to the third beat of measure 1 and the first beat of measure 2, and they also propel the melody toward its high point on beat three in measure 2. A petite note precedes the mordent on beat two in measure 2. Bowings are carefully indicated as well; the phrase commences with an implied upbow (p) stroke and the two “t”s (tirez) within the first beat of measure 2 indicate a detached downbow stroke. The ornaments add poise and elegance to the phrase and also give nuance to the predominantly stepwise melody. The coulé The interpretation of the ornament called the coulé (or coulé de tierce) may raise some confusion for players, because its appearance can be similar to that of the appoggiatura. Its distinguishing feature is that the coulé occurs between two notes that are a third apart and are descending. The coulé functions as an unaccented passing note. It is usually indicated by means of a petite note between two notes a third apart and is always slurred to the second of the two notes. It was a very common ornament, and as Dupont tells us, whether notated or not, the coulé was frequently added in passages of successive thirds. However, Montéclair warns that Example 7.3 Jean-Marie Leclair, Aria from Sonata 1 in A minor for solo violin and basse continue, from Premier livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue (1723)

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this ornament is not used when the words of a vocal piece express anger; nor is it used in a quick tempo.6 The first phrase of Jean-Marie Leclair’s Aria from his Sonata 1 in A minor (Premier livre de sonates, [1723]) for solo violin and basse continue, shown in Example 7.3, demonstrates several petites notes that serve either as an escape tone (m. 1), an appoggiatura (mm. 3, 4 and 6), or as a coulé (m. 8). The ornamental notes add expressive nuance by virtue of the stress and length that the performer chooses to give them and contribute significantly to the “graceful” character implied by the mark gratioso. Other ornaments and expressive techniques By far the most detailed information about special ornaments and techniques used in eighteenth-century French music is found in solo viol music and treatises for the viol. From about 1680 until at least 1720, viol technique was at its height, and players such as Marin Marais and Antoine Forqueray were regarded as players of incomparable virtuosity on the instrument. As trio sonatas and solo violin music became more prevalent after 1720, accomplished performers such as JeanMarie Leclair and Jean-Pierre Guignon demonstrated outstanding technique on the violin, and similar virtuosity on the cello was not far behind in the hands of cellists such as François Martin and Jean-Baptiste Barrière. When we examine the solo music for these three instruments that was published during the period 1680 to 1760, we find that viol composers in general added copious marks to their compositions—fingerings, bowings, ornaments, and dynamic and expressive nuances—whereas similar indications are used more sparingly in solo music for the violin or cello. In music for the latter two instruments, markings in the score are normally limited to a few dynamics (usually piano or forte only), staccato, and a few slurs. Nevertheless, we can assume that a variety of nuances and expressive devices applied to violin and cello playing too, just as they did to viol playing; violinists and cellists can usefully examine the ornaments and other marks in viol music in order to gain some idea of how performers interpreted these techniques, many of which are also applicable to instruments of the violin family. Dynamic marks such as p or f are relatively rare in French Baroque music for strings, but a nuance called the enflé, which consists of a swelling of the sound on a single note, was marked with some frequency. Marin Marais marked this nuance with the letter e, which is sometimes placed directly over a note; at other times (particularly on longer notes) it appears after the note, apparently indicating that the swell is to be applied somewhat later after the note is begun. Etienne Loulié also describes this nuance as used in viol playing, which he calls the coup d’archet exprimé ou enflé, a stroke drawn in either direction that begins softly and gradually 6   Michel Pignolet de Montéclair, Principes de musique Divisez en quatre parties (Paris, 1736), p. 79: “lorsque les paroles expriment la colere, ou que le chant est d’un mouvement precipité…”

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increases in volume.7 The enflé was described in treatises for voice, woodwinds, and strings, and appears to have been one of the more commonly used expressive nuances. In solo violin music, the swell was less often indicated, although it made an early appearance in the sonatas of Giovanni Antonio Piani (Sonate a violino solo e violoncello col cimbalo, op. 1 [Paris, 1712]).8 Bowings (slurs and staccato marks) appear with some frequency in French solo music for viol, violin, and cello. Again, viol composers tended to explore the possibilities of long slurs as well as detached or staccato bowings well before they begin to appear in violin or cello music. Viol composers also frequently mark the direction in which the bow should be drawn at the beginning of a phrase or when a re-taking of the bow is necessary. Such marks for bow direction are indicated with a p for pousser (up-bow stroke) and t for tirer (down-bow stroke). Similar marks can be found in violin treatises such as Michel Corrette’s L’École d’Orphée (Paris, 1738), and, with the exception of the strong and weak strokes being reversed for instruments of the violin family (owing to their overhand bow grip), the instructions are otherwise similar. Increasingly, in the eighteenth century, bowings such as several detached staccato notes within a single bow stroke were also indicated in both viol and violin music, and a strong staccato accent (marked with a wedge sign) was also used. Having observed that most nuances and expressive devices were equally applicable to both viols and violins, we must also note that there are a few techniques that apply mainly to fretted instruments and therefore appear only in viol music. These include, for example, such ornaments as the coulé du doigt, an upward sliding of a finger from one note to the next (that is, between two adjacent frets). This rarely used ornament, marked with a line or bracket between two notes, was associated with expressive pieces. Viol composers also distinguished two types of vibrato in their music and marked them with different signs. Vibrato with one finger (called plainte), normally done either above the frets, or by placing the fourth finger on a fret and rocking the hand back and forth, was marked with a vertical wavy line. Two-finger vibrato, called flattement (or, for Marais, the pincé ou flatement), was done by holding a second finger close to the one producing a note and gently touching the string repeatedly with the upper finger. It was marked with a horizontal wavy line.   Étienne Loulié, Méthode pour apprendre à jouer la violle (F-Pn, fonds français, n.a. 6355, fols 210–222). On fol. 217v, Loulié describes the Coup d’Archet exprimé ou enflé: “Dans le Coup d’Archet … il faut commencer par la faire sonner le moins qu’il est possible et augmenter la force du son a mesure qu’on continue a pousser ou a tirer l’Archet.” Loulié’s treatise for the viol is reproduced in its entirety in Hans Bol, La basse de viole du temps de Marin Marais et d’Antoine Forqueray (Bilthoven, 1973), Appendix B, pp. 282–91. For a detailed analysis of Loulié’s directions for bowing, see also John Hsu, A Handbook of French Baroque Viol Technique (New York, 1981), especially pp. 2–9. 8   Further on Piani’s nuances and other marks, see Peter Walls, “Violin Fingering in the Eighteenth Century,” Early Music 12 (August, 1984): 307–8. 7

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Vibrato, swells, sliding of a finger to the next fret, and other nuances appear with greater frequency in pieces that are relatively slow, and they are especially associated with tender or sorrowful emotions. Swells in particular were also used in other pieces, including simple dances such as the menuet and gavotte, and one finds vibrato also used in a variety of situations. As such, these ornaments often shape and articulate the melodic line, and Marais also uses them in his pieces for two and three bass viols. For the conclusion of his Prelude in G minor (Example 7.4) for solo viol and basse continue (Book 3, 1711), Marais marks a swell (e) with great care in mm. 18, 22, and 25 to show that it should be added in the middle or towards the end of a bow stroke, as indicated by its placement after the note head. The e can also appear directly over a note or just after the note head; such placements are more often used at faster tempos, where the swell resembles an accent rather than a gradual increase in sound. In this example, the placement of the e on the long held note approaching the final cadence (mm. 24–6) is particularly striking: the tied notes are played with a single upbow (poussez) stroke, with an enflé added after its midpoint. The succeeding downbow stroke (marked t for tirez) shows the approach to a trill on the F# with an ornamental melodic figure Example 7.4 Prelude in G minor for viol and basse continue, from Pièces de violes, troisième livre (Paris, 1711)

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and a bracket indicating a coulé du doigt, or sliding of the second finger from the third to the fourth frets on the top string, concluding with a trill. Such care in communicating each nuance and how it should be applied is characteristic of Marais’s solo music for viol, offering a rare opportunity for viol players to explore his often ingenious use of expressive devices in his music. Marais’s solo viol music can also offer violinists and cellists some clues about the way that vibrato was used in the early eighteenth century. However, one needs to approach the transfer of techniques between fretted and non-fretted instruments with the awareness that not all nuances were necessarily used in the same ways or with the same frequency. The manner of holding the violin (in many cases without using the chin for support) and the placement of the left hand affected the application of vibrato, and, despite the similar sound resulting from rocking the violinist’s left hand to produce a wavering sound, the nuance does not exactly replicate vibrato as it was done on the fretted viol. Nevertheless, even with these differences in mind, we can learn a great deal from the way that Marais indicates vibrato in his solo viol music. A particularly telling passage (Example 7.5) from Marais’s moving Tombeau pour Mons.r de Lully (Book 2, 1701) shows both types of vibrato in a richly expressive context that also appears to be programmatic, signifying Lully’s ascent into heaven. Marais’s use of two-finger vibrato (marked with a horizontal wavy line, mm. 17 and 18) and one-finger vibrato with the fourth finger (marked with a vertical wavy line, m. 18) is marked in five places within a single phrase, each time on a different string of the viol, and extending from B on the lowest string to b′ above the frets on the top string. After the half rest preceding the new phrase that begins in m. 17, Marais marks vibrato at first on each downbeat and third beat, then, as the phrase rises towards its third octave, he adds vibrato on the third and fourth beats of m. 18, but he leaves the top note of the Example 7.5 Marin Marais, Tombeau pour Mons.r de Lully for viol and basse continue, from Pièces de violes, second livre (Paris, 1701)

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phrase (d′, m. 19) without vibrato. This extraordinary passage is one of several that demonstrate the special care Marais used when indicating each expressive mark, which contributes to the great poignancy and deeply felt expression to his music. Most of the aforementioned ornaments and nuances can be combined with one another, and they can prove challenging, especially when they appear in passages where double stops, chords, and wide leaps are also used. That nuances were managed by the bow as well as by the left hand is clear, and there is considerable evidence of virtuosity on the part of composers who were themselves outstanding performers. Perhaps the best advice for players today comes from Saint-Lambert, who concludes his explanation of ornamentation by suggesting that players follow the written ornament signs at first, especially when one is learning, but once the style becomes familiar, a player may add to them or replace them with others, “inventing new ones himself according to his own taste, if he believes that he is capable of inventing new ones that are more beautiful.”9 Specifically, in the performance of expressive nuances and ornaments, he adds important words of general guidance to players: That the agréments must never alter the melody or the rhythm of the piece. That therefore in pieces written in a quick tempo, the coulés and arpeggios must be done more quickly than when the tempo is slow. That one must never hurry in performing an agrément, no matter how fast it must be played; that one must take one’s time, prepare one’s fingers, and execute it boldly and freely. (Que jamais les Agrémens ne doivent alterer le Chant, ny la Mesure de la Piéce. Qu’ainsi dans les Piéces d’un Mouvement gay, les Coulez & les Harpegez doivent passer plus vîte que quand le Mouvement est lent: Qu’il ne faut jamais se presser pour faire un Agrément, quelque vîte qu’il doive passer: Qu’il faut prendre son temps, préparer ses doigts, & l’exécuter avec hardiesse & liberté.)10

Special Effects There are many ways to achieve a special effect in string playing. Some of the techniques that fall into this category were first introduced in French viol and violin music in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries and have had lasting influence on the techniques and literature for these instruments. The use of tremolo, mutes, and harmonics represent the most important of such special effects, all of which added significantly to the palette of expressive nuances for these instruments. 9 Saint-Lambert, Les principes du clavecin, p. 57: “On peut même, si l’on veut negliger tous ceux que j’ay enseignez icy … & en composer soy-même de nouveaux selon son goût, si l’on se croit capable d’en inventer de plus beaux…” 10 Ibid., p. 57.

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A few other unusual techniques for the left hand were introduced by players who apparently experienced success with them in public performances and then decided to include them in at least one of their own published compositions. These special techniques appear not to have been widely adopted by other players and therefore had little, if any, lasting influence on string technique. Examples include the use of the left thumb to stop notes on the lowest string of the violin and—perhaps most unusual of all—the use of the player’s chin to stop notes on the cello. Unconventional as these techniques undeniably were, their importance deserves recognition as more than mere eccentricity; in reality, the composers who introduced them were themselves virtuoso performers who employed them at carefully chosen moments in their music. When well done, these unusual special effects expand the expressive palette of the instrument and add new colors that were otherwise unknown at the time. As such, they deserve to be studied—and perhaps even revived—as part of a historically informed approach to performing early music for violin and cello. Tremolo The term tremolo was used in violin music by Italian composers from the early seventeenth century onwards. As Stewart Carter has demonstrated, the effect was intended to imitate the tremulant on an organ and consisted of several notes (usually of the same pitch) being articulated within a single bow stroke. The tremolo is often indicated with a verbal direction in the score, and a slur (or wavy line) is also added, usually over four notes, presumably indicating that such notes would be played within a single bow stroke.11 The technique spread to Germany and was used in particularly effective ways by Dieterich Buxtehude and others.12 The tremolo often (though not always) had associations with death or sorrow in music by Italian or German composers, and there are many seventeenth-century examples of its use in chamber music for strings, stage works, and vocal chamber music.13 Perhaps the most famous use of all for the tremolo is found in the famous Frost Scene in Henry Purcell’s King Arthur (1691). Scholars have noted that the 11

  Stewart Carter identifies Biagio Marini as the first composer to use the term tremolo in a piece for string instruments (in his sonata La Foscarina from Opus 1, 1617). Carter traces the use of the tremolo in Italian and German music in the seventeenth century, including a few examples by French composers, in his article “The String Tremolo in the Seventeenth Century,” Early Music 19 (February, 1991): 42–59. 12   Ibid., p. 53. Carter notes that the instrumental introduction to part 2 of Buxtehude’s Membra Jesu, which includes a 27-bar “Sonata in tremolo,” may be the longest example of a tremolo passage written in the seventeenth century. 13   See ibid., passim, for a useful summary of how tremolo was used and by whom, as well as evidence from theoretical works that explain how the term was meant to imitate the undulations of the tremulant on the organ.

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inspiration for Purcell’s scene came from Lully’s Isis (1677), in which a frozen landscape in Scythia is depicted with a chorus of trembling people whose shivers are realized with tremolo effects in both the voices and instruments. Lully’s scene in Isis, thereafter widely known as “Les Trembleurs,” became the model for subsequent scenes in French opera, and the technique was adopted by other French composers, at first in stage works and later in vocal and instrumental chamber music. However, not all aspects of the tremolo or its interpretation are as yet well understood, and scholars have not agreed on how the slurs (or sometimes slurs with dots) should be interpreted. With reference to use of the tremolo by French composers, it is possible to add a few observations that may help to bring players and singers closer to realizing the tremolo when it is required. Stewart Carter and Lionel Sawkins have contributed important work in this area, and their contributions (and occasionally their different interpretations) are acknowledged below along with a few additional comments based on my own observations. Further research on the use of the tremolo by French composers is certainly warranted, for many unanswered questions remain. Sébastien de Brossard offers the most detailed description of the tremolo in his Dictionaire de musique (third edition, 1705). Given Brossard’s acquaintance with string instrument technique, his passion for collecting both Italian and French music for his library, and his acquaintance with many leading French composers of his day, his entry on the tremolo stands as an important record of how French composers understood the effect: Tremolo, or Tremulo, is not a good Italian word; Tremolante or Tremante would be better. However, one finds the [former] word often, or as abbreviated Trem. to warn everyone playing string instruments to play several notes of the same pitch with one bow stroke, in imitation of the Tremblant stop on the organ. It is often marked for the voices; we have an excellent example of both [i.e., tremolo in voices and strings] in the Trembleurs from the opera Isis by Monsieur Lully. (Tremolo, ou Tremulo, n’est pas un trop bon mot Italien, & Tremolante, ou Tremante seroient bien meilleurs. Cependant l’usage fait qu’on le trouve tres souvent, ou entier, ou en abregé Trem. pour avertir sur tout ceux qui jouent des Instrumens à Archet de faire sur le même degré plusieurs Notes d’un seul coup d’Archet, comme pour imiter le Tremblant de l’Orgue. Cela se marque aussi fort souvent pour les Voix, nous avons un excellent exemple de l’un & de l’autre dans les Trembleurs de l’Opera d’Isis de Monsieur de Lully.)14

Brossard credits Lully with effective use of the tremolo and appears to have understood its origin as an effect that imitated the organ tremulant stop. As Brossard’s example from Lully’s works indicates, tremolo had associations in 14   Sébastien de Brossard, Dictionaire de musique, third edition (Amsterdam, 1705), p. 191.

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France with depictions of fear and trembling. The passage to which Brossard refers in Lully’s Isis comes at the beginning of Act IV, in which the five-part strings introduce the chorus of Scythians (“L’hiver qui nous tourmente”), playing repeated eighth-note figures of two and four notes in a single bow stroke, an effect intended to depict the shivering people. To what extent Brossard—or Lully—knew examples of the tremolo in the works of earlier Venetian (or other Italian) composers is not clear. Two of Brossard’s statements do, however, bear special importance for our understanding of how French composers understood and used the tremolo. The first is that he indicates its application to string instruments specifically, which would seem to suggest that when woodwind instruments doubled the dessus and basse parts they were not expected to imitate the effect on their instruments. As Carter and Sawkins indicate, the sign for notes to be performed with a tremolo effect is a slur over four (or sometimes only two) notes. Brossard clearly indicates that “several notes of the same pitch [are played] with one bow stroke” when performing the tremolo, an interpretation that Carter accepts. However, Sawkins views this interpretation as “ineffectual” and, with evidence from Montéclair’s description of the vocal ornament called the balancement, proposes that a rapid reiteration of notes (by means of rapid, measured bow strokes) was the intended effect.15 It is difficult to say with certainty which of these interpretations applies more often in French music, but it would appear from an examination of examples from the period after Lully’s death that the tremolo was intended to be performed as several notes within a single bow stroke. When approaching passages that use the tremolo technique (i.e., a series of two, four, or more notes played in a detached manner within a single bow stroke), it is worth noting that not all passages with such markings necessarily have expressive or programmatic meaning. Carter and Sawkins both cite examples from the works of Marais, Lalande, and other French composers, only some of which would appear to have been recognizable to early audiences as the trembling effect they had so appreciated in Lully’s Isis. It is possible that not all tremolo marks were performed in the same way, but we do find passages associated with fear and trembling that follow the Lullian model closely. A similar technique can be found in scenes that portray other catastrophic events, such as the earthquake in Act V, scene 3 of Marais’s Semélé (1709). In storms and tempests, which sometimes employ detached staccato notes on one pitch within a single bow stroke, tremolo effects tend to be limited to the bass instruments only, with the upper strings more often engaged in rapid scalewise runs (Figure 7.1).

  Sawkins, “Trembleurs and Cold People: How Should They Shiver?”, in Performing the Music of Henry Purcell, ed. Michael Burden (Oxford, 1996), pp. 258–64, bases his conclusions on a variety of evidence, including the printed parts and score of Lully’s Isis as well as examples of the stile concitato in Marini and Monteverdi. 15

Figure 7.1

Marin Marais, Sémélé, tragédie mise en musique (Paris, 1709), Act V, scene 3, reduced score, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris

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Following the success of operatic scenes that used the tremolo, similar effects also began to appear in French chamber music. Couperin’s use of the tremolo in a passage from his Concert instrumental sous le titre d’Apotheose Composé à la mémoire immortelle de l’incomparable Monsieur de Lully (Paris, 1725) pays homage to the effect in Lully’s operas by indicating the tremolo with four repeated notes in each bow stroke for an “underground murmuring caused by the composer-contemporaries of Lully” (Rumeur souteraine: causée par les Auteurs—Contemporains de Lully). Indications for tempo are rare in passages where the tremolo is marked, but in this case Couperin marks the passage to be played quickly (viste) in ²¼, which suggests that the reiterations within each bow stroke would be done quite rapidly. The term frémissement was sometimes used to indicate a similar effect, as in Rebel’s instrumental suite Les élémens (Paris, n.d.). In this case, Rebel indicates chromatically descending groups of four repeated eighth notes within single bow strokes (Example 7.6), and the entire passage imitates trembling (frémissement). The tremolo can also be found in chamber works for voice and instruments, such as Boismortier’s cantata L’hiver (Paris, 1724), in the air “Les vents brises leurs chaînes” at the words “Tout tremble, tout frissonne dans ces deserts affreux.” In this case, once again the figure is associated with shivering or trembling, and in this case the tremolo figures appear only in the instrumental parts for violons and basse continue.16 Marin Marais gives the most detailed description of how the tremolo is done (without naming the technique as such) in his Pieces de viole, second livre (Paris, 1701): The dots marked thus above or below the tied notes [example] signify that one must articulate several notes within a single bow stroke as if they were different strokes, by pressing the finger that crosses over the hair of the bow. (Les points marqués ainsy au dessus ou au dessous des nottes avec Liaison [example] Signifient qu’il faut d’un seul coup d’archet articuler plusieurs nottes comme si elles etoient de coups d’archet differens, et cela en appuyant un peu le doigt qui touche en dessus le crin de l’archet.)17

Marais marks similar detached notes (tremolo) in several of his viol solos, where the effect usually consists of four notes within a single bow stroke. A particularly expressive use of the tremolo can be seen in his programmatic piece for solo viol entitled Tableau de l’operation de la taille from his Pièces de viole, cinquième livre (Paris, 1725), where Marais calls for eight sixteenth notes to be detached within a single bow stroke to indicate the “trembling at the sight of the equipment”

16   Joseph Bodin de Boismortier, Les quatre saisons, cantates françoises à voix seule, Mêlées de simphonies … œ cinquiéme (Paris, 1724), p. 72. 17   Marin Marais, Pièces de viole, second livre (Paris, 1701), Avertissement, n.p.

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(frémissement en le voyant).18 In this case, it would appear that Marais intended the reiterations to be done quite rapidly. In his dictionary entry for the tremblement, Jean-Jacques Rousseau adds a further comment about the tremolo that agrees with Brossard’s description of about half a century earlier. He defines the tremblement initially as a trill (sometimes also called cadence), and then adds that tremblement has a second meaning: Formerly, the term tremblement, in Italian tremolo, was used to warn those who played string instruments to strike the note several times within the same bow stroke, in imitation of the tremulant on the organ. Neither the name nor the effect is still in use today.

Example 7.6 Jean-Féry Rebel, Le père, Les élémens, suite for strings, flutes (recorders), and harpsichord

18   Further on this piece and the subtitles Marais indicates, see the composer profile in Chapter 9, p. 147.

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(On employoit aussi jadis le terme de tremblement, en Italien tremolo, pour avertir ceux qui jouoient des instruments à Archet, de battre plusieurs fois la Note du même coup d’Archet, comme pour imiter le tremblant de l’Orgue. Le nom ni la chose ne sont plus en usage aujourd’hui.)19

By indicating that the tremolo effect was no longer in use by the 1760s, Rousseau presumably refers specifically to its programmatic use in association with trembling, quaking, or fear. The technique of detaching several notes in staccato fashion within a single bow stroke continues to be used in French solo music for strings well after 1750.20 The batterie (Leclair’s tremblement) Jean-Marie Leclair uses the word tremblement to indicate a special effect in his Sonata in D major from his Quatrième livre de sonates à violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. IXe (Paris, [1743]). This effect, which was sometimes called a batterie, came into use as a type of figuration associated with Italian music and was considered especially appropriate for bowed string instruments. Rousseau offers a definition that is general enough to cover earlier examples of the technique as well as Leclair’s use of it: Battery … a way of striking and repeating successively on different strings of an instrument the various sounds that make up a chord, and of moving thus from chord to chord by the same motion of notes. The battery is only a continuous arpeggio, but one in which all the notes are detached, instead of being connected as they are in an arpeggio. (BATTERIE … Manière de frapper & répéter successivement sur diverses cordes d’un Instrument les divers Sons qui composent un Accord, & de passer ainsi d’Accord en Accord par un même mouvement de Notes. La Batterie n’est qu’un Arpége continué, mais dont toutes les Notes son détachés, au lieu d’être liées comme dans l’Arpége.)21

This sort of rapid beating of notes within a chord appears to have come into use during the second decade of the eighteenth century. For example, Marais used the technique in the double to his La Fromental from his Pieces de viole … cinquieme livre (Paris, 1725, pp. 45–6), where it consists of a double stop, the lower note of which is beaten repeatedly with its upper neighboring note. Jean Barrière calls for a similar teachnique in the final Allegro of his Sonata 4 in B@ major from his 19   Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768), art. “tremblement,” p. 523. 20   For an example of tremolo used in the basse continue, see Example 7.7, p. 126. 21   Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique, art. “batterie,” p. 51.

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Sonates pour le violoncelle et basse continuë … livre troisième (Paris, n.d.), where two notes within a three-note chord are beaten successively and rapidly, slurred in twos. In both cases, as in Leclair’s sonata, the tempo is lively, and the figure adds brilliance to the sonority. Leclair takes the technique a step farther, adding complexity by calling for a battery of separate notes within an extended chordal passage. At the beginning of the Sonata in D, Leclair directs the player to perform the three-note chords forte and to sustain them (see Figure 7.2), while beating the two small notes, which are always a third apart, in the manner of a trill and “as fast as possible”: In order for the figure at the beginning of this Sonata to make its effect, it is necessary to make the upper note of each chord sound first, and to hold all three strings under the bow; the little notes indicate a sort of continual trilling [tremblement] that must come from within the chord and which is beaten as fast and as loud as possible. The little mark ‹ shows the two sounds that must be struck against one another. (Pour que le trait du commencement de cette Sonate face son Effet il faut a chaque accord faire entendre la notte d’En haut la premiere, et tenir les trois cordes sous l’archet; les petites nottes indiquent un Espece de tremblement continuel qui doit sortir de l’accord et se battre le plus viste et le plus fort qui se poura, la petite marque ‹ signifie les deux sons qu’il faut battre l’un contre l’autre.)22

He employs this special effect, which he calls a tremblement rather than a batterie, throughout the initial eight-measure phrase on both three- and four-note chords, all of which are accompanied by ongoing syncopations in the basse continue. A similar effect is called for after the double bar in this binary piece, again for an eight-bar phrase, and finally it is used again in the B section at the return to the tonic key, this time over a tonic pedal in the bass. Perhaps it was this unusual effect that earned him the praise of La Borde, who reports that Leclair became justly famous for his exceptional ability to play double stops on the violin.23 Harmonics, thumb-stop and chin-stop Harmonics were rarely used in French string music during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. One exception to this general statement lies in the technique and music for the marine trumpet (trompette marine), a single-string   Jean-Marie Leclair, Quatrième livre de sonates à violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. IXe (Paris, [1743]), p. 32. 23  “Le Clair s’en acquit une [réputation] immortelle par la maniere dont il joua la double corde … qu’il porta au dernier point.” Jean Benjamin de La Borde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne, 4 vols (Paris, 1780), vol. 3, p. 502. 22

Figure 7.2

Jean-Marie Leclair l’aîné, Allegro (first movement) from Sonata 6, Quatrieme livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. IX (Paris, [1743]). Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Editions, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited

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instrument approximately six feet long that was bowed and played entirely in harmonics. Cecil Adkins and Alis Dickinson indicate that the marine trumpet was used by Lully in a ballet as early as 1660, and the instrument held some importance in French stage music thereafter. It was associated with sailors and sea music and usually doubled the dessus part in the orchestra.24 Jean-Baptiste Prin composed music for the trumpet marine in combination with violin and wrote an instruction book for the instrument entitled Mémoire sur la trompette marine (1742).25 Since harmonics, at least in their association with the marine trumpet, were well known in France, it remains something of a mystery why they were not more widely used on other string instruments. Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville is credited with introducing them in his important collection of violin solos entitled Les son harmoniques, sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. 4.e (Paris and Lille, [1738]). In the introduction to this collection, he refers to playing harmonics as a “new way of playing” (nouvelle facon de jouer), and he makes extensive use of a variety of harmonics in the violin part, as well as indicating them several times in the basse continue part. He includes a table of 13 harmonics that can be produced on any string of the violin, each produced by touching the string lightly at one of its nodal points (such as an octave above the open string, a Example 7.7 Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville, Sonata 4 (first movement), for violin and basse continue, from Les sons harmoniques, sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. 4.e (Paris and Lille, [1738])

  See Cecil Adkins and Alis Dickinson, A Trumpet by Any Other Name: A History of the Trumpet Marine (Buren, The Netherlands, 1991), vol. 1, pp. 92–103 and 117–20. 25   See F. W. Galpin, “Monsieur Prin and his Trumpet Marine,” Music and Letters 14 (1933): 18–29. The manuscript of Prin’s treatise is in the collection of the Bibliothèque municipale de Lyon, shelf number 133670. 24

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fourth above, and so forth).26 In the six sonatas within this collection, harmonics (marked with a horizontal wavy line) are marked mainly on the e″ string of the violin, but they are also employed at times on other strings. They generally are used on single notes within a phrase, often in a sequential passages. In the opening phrase of the first movement of his Sonata 4 in A major (Example 7.7), he uses a harmonic on the second beat of measure 2 (e″′, sounding an octave higher as a harmonic), marked cantabile. Mondonville also marks slurs over pairs of eighth notes in the basse continue and uses the word tremolo, which in this case appears to indicate a gentle articulation that would be consistent with the singing character implied by the word cantabile. Mondonville also introduced harmonics in Isbé, his pastorale-héroïque, in 1742,27 but few other composers showed an interest in using them. Rousseau cites both Mondonville and Martin Berteau as composers who used them to advantage, the latter in works for the cello.28 Berteau called for harmonics (marked with the sign o over the note) in only a few passages in his Sonate da camera a violoncello solo col basso continuo (Paris, [1750]), including two of the seven variations for an Aria in Sonata 2 in D major, in which the entire melody is playing in harmonics, at times even in double stops.29 However, Berteau employs them purely as special effects for color rather than as expressive nuances as Mondonville did. The first printed indications for harmonics for the cello appear in François Martin’s Six sonates pour le violonchelle, y compris un duo pour un violon, et un violonchelle … œ. II.e, (Paris, [1746]). In Sonata 4 in this collection, Martin introduces two novel techniques, one being the use of several harmonics in the upper register of the cello as melodic notes, and he also indicates the use of the player’s chin to stop the lower note of a passage in three-note chords. Both techniques appear to be introduced as special effects, each time with the basse continue resting so that the sonority can be fully heard. Example 7.8 shows Martin’s chin-stop (marked “Menton” in m. 39), a passage with the second cello as a partner with the solo cello (mm. 44–48), and the final ascent in harmonics (mm. 49–50) which ends the movement. Leclair had introduced an unusual special effect similar to Martin’s use of the chin several years prior to the publication of Martin’s cello sonatas. In his Premier livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue (Paris, [1723]), Leclair indicates near the end of the Allegro in his Sonata in B minor that the player’s left

  Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville, Les son harmoniques, sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. 4.e (Paris and Lille, [1738]), p. 4. 27   Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville, Isbé, pastorale-héroïque (Paris, [1742]). See Graham Sadler, “Rameau and the Orchestra,” PRMA 108 (1981–82): 54. 28   Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique, art. “sons harmoniques ou sons flutés,” p. 449. 29   Sonate da camera a violoncello solo col basso continuo … dal Sig.r Martino (Paris, [ca. 1750]). On the identification of “Martino” as Martin Berteau, see Jane Adas, “Le célèbre Berteau,” Early Music 17 (August, 1989): 370–71. 26

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Example 7.8 François Martin, first movement (Allegro) from Sonata 4, for cello and basse continue, from Six sonates pour le violonchelle (1746)

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Example 7.9 Jean-Marie Leclair, Allegro (second movement) from the Sonata in B minor, for violin and basse continue, from Premier livre de sonatas (1723)

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thumb should be used to stop the g# on the violin’s G string in a passage of threenote chords (Example 7.9, marked “Le pouce”).30 In both Leclair’s and Martin’s pieces, these two very special techniques are introduced near the end of the movement just prior to a pedal note that precedes the final cadence. It appears clear that both composers saw unusual sonorities as devices that could be used as part of the formal plan of the movement, and they gave considerable thought to the placement of these devices. Mutes Mutes (sourdines), copper or silver devices that were slid onto the top of the bridge, were occasionally employed in French music during the seventeenth century. Like the tremolo, they had a programmatic association, in this case as a depiction of peaceful slumber in stage works as part of a genre scene known as the sommeil. The genre became widely known following Lully’s use of an extended sommeil in his tragédie Atys (1676) and, with the specific indication of muted strings, in Armide (1686).31 In the latter work, the prelude in Act II, scene 4, in which the demons lull Renaud to sleep and tie him with garlands, calls for mutes in all five string parts. As an operatic excerpt entitled Les sourdines d’Armide, this prelude was widely appreciated in transcriptions for solo harpsichord and other instruments.32 Charpentier also called for the special timbre of muted strings occasionally in his sacred music, where it was often associated with softness, sadness, or darkness.33 As Jean Duron and Shirley Thompson have noted, Charpentier appears not to 30   As Lionel de La Laurencie notes (L’École française de violon de Lully à Viotti [Paris, 1922], vol. 1, p. 200), Leclair was not the first French composer to make use of the left thumb to stop notes on the violin fingerboard. Louis Francoeur had also called for the technique in the first Allegro in his Sonata 8 from his Sonates à violon seul et la basse (Paris, 1715). 31   For a discussion of the sommeil in Lully’s works as well as in Desmarets’ Circé (1694), see Caroline Wood, “Orchestra and Spectacle in the tragédie en musique 1673– 1715: Oracle, sommeil, and tempête,” PRMA 108 (1981–1982): 34–40. 32   Bruce Gustafson and David Fuller list six transcriptions of this piece for harpsichord surviving in manuscript sources. See Gustafson and Fuller, A Catalogue of French Harpsichord Music, 1699–1780 (Oxford, 1990), Appendix C, p. 367. The most well-known version of Les sourdines d’Armide is that of Jean Henry D’Anglebert, published in his Pieces de Clavecin … Livre premier (Paris, [1689]). See Jean Henry D’Anglebert: The Collected Works, ed. C. David Harris, The Art of the Keyboard 7 (New York, 2009), vol. 1, pp. 66–7. 33   Jean Duron, “L’orchestre de Marc-Antoine Charpentier,” Revue de musicologie 72 (1986): 33–4. Shirley Thompson also discusses the sourdines in Charpentier’s chamber opera La descente d’Orphée aux enfers, where once again the effect has an otherworldly association, in this case with the underworld at the beginning of Act II. Thompson indicates that the viols who accompany Orpheus are directed to play “avec sourdines,” a rare use of that direction in music for viols that Thompson believes may have been intended as a

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have left time for players to add or remove their mutes in passages where these devices are indicated,34 a circumstance that may suggest that the direction simply meant “soft” in some cases and may not necessarily have indicated the addition of a mute.35 The mute was little used during the early eighteenth century by French composers, much to the regret of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who observed that the use of mutes “weakened [i.e., softened] the sound, changing the timbre and giving it an extremely tender and sad character,” but that French players did not like adding and removing them and therefore made little use of mutes.36

dynamic mark rather than an indication for the use of mutes. Shirley Thompson, “MarcAntoine Charpentier and the Viol,” Early Music 32 (November, 2004): 502–503. 34   Duron, “L’orchestre de Marc-Antoine Charpentier,” p. 34. 35   See Shirley Thompson, “A Mute Question: Charpentier and the sourdines,” in Marc-Antoine Charpentier, un musicien retrouvé, ed. Catherine Cessac (Sprimont, Belgium, 2005): pp. 187–8. 36   Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique, art. “sourdine,” pp. 452–3. “SOURDINE. Petit instrument de cuivre ou d’argent, qu’on applique au chevalet du Violon ou du Violoncelle, pour rendre les sons plus sourds & plus foibles, en interceptant & gênant les vibrations du corps entier de l’instrument. La sourdine, en affoiblissant les sons, change leur tymbre & leur donne un caractère extrêmement attendrissant & triste. Les Musiciens François, qui pensent qu’un jeu doux produit le même effet que la sourdine, & qui n’aiment pas l’embarras de la placer & déplacer, ne s’en servent point…”

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Chapter 8

Basse Continue, Pitch, and Temperament The significance of the basse continue in French music for the period 1680 to 1760 can scarcely be over-emphasized. Its presence defines the Baroque period in general, and even though the basse continue appeared later in France than elsewhere in Europe,1 by the last quarter of the seventeenth century it came to occupy an important place as the core of both large and small ensembles. The basse continue gives rhythmic and harmonic support to a soloist or an ensemble, and, by virtue of the expertise of its players, the basse continue can also add nuance and expression that contribute to the overall affect that the music communicates. Despite its central role in most ensembles during the period in question, the basse continue part frequently lacks indications as to which instruments were intended to perform it, how many instruments are required, and even which notes (apart from the bass line itself) the players should play. In some ways, these conventions were similar to unwritten conventions that existed outside of France wherever the basso continuo was employed, but, as we have seen with many other unwritten musical notations, certain traditions and conventions governed French practice and need to be investigated separately. In this chapter, I explore some of the written and unwritten conventions for the basse continue in French solo, chamber, and orchestral music for strings. Knowing what choices are available and being able to make informed decisions can lend new variety and interest to performances as well as add individuality that, like the basse continue itself, stands at the core of what French composers were seeking when they published their music. Realizing the basse continue Certain features are common to the basse continue (or basso continuo) in nearly all Baroque music. These include, for example, the way that the bass line is notated as a single line, often with a series of numbers above or below it, that indicate in an abbreviated way which intervals and chords form the harmony above each bass note. The bass line, which in French printed scores normally bears the indication basse continue (or B.C.), may be played by a harpsichord alone, or by the organ or a chordal plucked instrument such as the theorbo, but more often at least one   David Tunley notes that the first use of the basse continue in France was in Henry Du Mont’s Cantica Sacra (Paris, 1652) and that it gained acceptance gradually within the next two decades. See David Tunley, François Couperin and the “Perfection of Music” (Aldershot, 2004), p. 10. 1

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bowed string instrument was also added to the basse continue. During the earlier part of the period between 1680 and 1760, the basse de viole was a frequent choice for the bass instrument, along with the theorbo or harpsichord. If the ensemble was large enough to have two or more violins playing the dessus part (and perhaps further doubling by woodwinds), then the bass instruments were often doubled as well. Woodwinds (such as recorders, flutes, oboes, and bassoons) were added where they are indicated in the score, or for additional volume or variety of timbre and sonority. In the eighteenth century, the cello gradually came to be a popular choice as a basse continue instrument in French music too; it generally produced more volume than the basse de viole and was able to match the quick-speaking violins more easily than the viol did. The keyboard or theorbo player played the written bass line and improvised (or “realized”) a harmonic accompaniment above it, using the bass figures as a guide. Many conventions governed the playing of a good chordal basse continue part, and numerous treatises were published to instruct players on how such parts were to be realized.2 Many French composers— such as François Couperin and Elisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, for example— were themselves skilled basse continue players, and their scores demonstrate the care with which they indicated bass figures in their music. As a general principle, it is worth noting that the bass figures were intended to show the sounding harmony (the notes being played by other members of the ensemble) and do not necessarily direct the basse continue player to play certain pitches above the bass line. In particular, it was common practice to indicate dissonances and resolutions that were being played or sung (for example with the figures 7–6 or 4–3 over the bass note), but these figures are intended merely as a guide to the harmonies that result from hearing all the parts. Keyboard and theorbo players must take care to follow the rules of doubling that were clearly set out in treatises and to vary the texture of their part in order to suit the expression of the text. Playing the basse continue well adds immeasurably to the musicality and individuality of an ensemble, but the basse continue was not meant to dominate, or even necessarily to lead, the ensemble. As in many other areas of French solo and ensemble playing, the performers’ bon goût is an essential component in the search for a historically informed and stylish musical performance. In French scores, or in basse continue part books that were published in the late seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, bass figures were indicated either above or below the bass line. The most frequent practice was to enter them above the bass line, but their placement was guided by where there was sufficient room for them, and they can even appear both above and below the bass line. Both the vertical order of the bass figures and their rhythmic placement may need to be adjusted according to the musical context.3 The bass figures indicate what notes 2   For detailed accounts of the principal treatises on basse continue playing, see Robert Zappulla, Figured Bass Accompaniment in France, Speculum Musicae, vol. 6 (Brepols, 2000). 3   Ibid., p. 157.

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the instruments or voices are playing or singing, and the keyboard or theorbo player need not play all notes indicated by the figures.4 Although the cellist, viol player, and contrebasse player in an ensemble are responsible for playing only the written bass line, it is important nevertheless for them to be aware of certain conventions that govern the realization of the basse continue part by the harpsichordist, organist, or theorbist. One of the earliest seventeenth-century sources to mention the harpsichord specifically as a basse continue instrument is Denis Delair’s Traité de l’accompagnement sur le théorbe et le clavecin (Paris, 1690). He addresses his general comments to both harpsichordists and theorbo players, while emphasizing two principles that form the basis for realized accompaniments from a figured bass. These principles are that (1) chords may be “filled in” with nonharmonic tones for greater sonority, and that (2) the texture of the basse continue realization should vary according to the tempo of individual passages. He describes two ways of accompanying on the harpsichord: chords may be played with the right hand while playing the bass line with the left hand, or chords may be played with both hands. He advises that the first method should be used in pieces where the bass line moves quickly, whereas in slow tempos it is better to use the second, fuller type of accompaniment. Similar advice about using a thicker texture for the basse continue realization when playing in a slow tempo is offered by Jean Henry D’Anglebert in his Principes de l’accompagnement (1689), in which he provides examples with three- and four-note chords with the player’s hands in close proximity on the keyboard. He recommends playing chords in both hands at slow tempos, except on the organ, where a four-part texture should be maintained.5 Saint-Lambert adds additional advice for both harpsichord and organ continuo playing in his Nouveau traité de l’accompagnement du clavecin, de l’orgue, et des autres instruments (Paris, 1707). In his chapter 9 “On style in accompanying” (Du gout de l’accompagnement), he advises that keyboard players should keep their accompaniment in the low range of the harpsichord. He also recommends using the upper manual (petit jeu) if the solo voice or instrument is very soft, or adjusting the texture of the accompaniment by using fewer notes or arpeggiating chords on the harpsichord (but not on the organ). He recommends not doubling dissonances that are heard in the upper parts and using ornaments only occasionally in the bass or the accompaniment.6 Saint-Lambert’s earlier treatise on playing the 4   Further on the “construction and figuring of chords” with reference to treatises of the period, see ibid., pp. 101–238. 5   D’Anglebert’s treatise, entitled Principes de l’Accompagnement, was published in his Pieces de clavecin composées par J. Henry d’Anglebert, Livre premier (Paris, [1689]), pp. 123–8. For an English translation, see Jean Henry D’Anglebert: The Collected Works, ed. C. David Harris, The Art of the Keyboard 7 (New York, 2009), vol. 2, Appendix 1, pp. 203–9. 6   Saint-Lambert, Nouveau traité de l’accompagnement du clavecin, de l’orgue, et des autres instruments (Paris: Christophe Ballard, 1707), pp. 61–4. See also Saint-Lambert,

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harpsichord (Les principes du clavecin, 1702) also offers guidance on realizing a basse continue part. He indicates that players can arpeggiate chords, or restrike them, in order to vary the accompaniment and add extra harmonic support to the ensemble. In choruses (and by extension, we may assume, in other large ensembles), chords can also be repeated for extra rhythmic support and greater volume.7 In recitatives, Saint-Lambert recommends arpeggiating chords in general, sometimes restriking them or simply repeating one or two notes from the chord. His examples, like those of D’Anglebert, demonstrate that variety of texture was the essence of the French style of accompaniment, in which thicker chords were employed to provide support and accent on stressed words or syllables, and only a few notes were used on less important chords that pass quickly. There is evidence from another observer, Gabriel Bonnot de Mably, that the French style of accompaniment gradually became more complicated (tumultueux) than it had been in Lully’s day. Mably describes opera accompaniments of his day as “an awful din … noise, one becomes dizzy.”8 It appears likely that the thicker texture and busy accompaniments he disliked may have arisen in response to the gradual slowing down of the speed of delivery of French recitative from about 1680 to 1740. Another comment from slightly later in the eighteenth century comes from Michel Corrette, who also recommends adjusting the volume of one’s keyboard accompaniment by recommending that, in Italian recitative, the harpsichordist should use the upper manual (le petit clavier), since that type of recitative was normally performed in a declamatory manner. By contrast, he claims that French singers were more likely to sing in full voice (à haute voix),9 a comment that may be indicative that French recitative had by the middle of the century slowed down somewhat in its delivery. The foregoing guidelines from Saint-Lambert and D’Anglebert form the basis for our understanding of the conventions that governed the realization of basse continue parts. They can also be used as advice to viol, cello, and contrebasse players about ways to vary the articulation, dynamics, and sonority of the bass line. Michel Corrette offers a few additional words of advice that address special situations that a string player might encounter when performing a basse continue A New Treatise on Accompaniment with the Harpsichord, the Organ, and with Other Instruments, trans. and ed. John S. Powell (Bloomington, IN, 1991), pp. 108–14. 7   Saint-Lambert, Nouveau traité de l’accompagnement du clavecin, de l’orgue, et des autres instruments, p. 62. 8   Gabriel Bonnot de Mably, Lettres a madame la marquise de P. … sur l’opera (Paris, 1741), pp. 152–3. About accompaniments in operas of his day, Mably writes: “Je les déteste; c’est un vacarme affreux; ce n’est que du bruit, one en est étoudi … ces Accompagnemens tumultueux…” Mably held a conservative view in the controversy over opera and was a supporter of Quinault’s livrets and Lullian tradition. See Charles Dill, Monstrous Opera, Rameau and the Tragic Tradition (Princeton, NJ, 1998), p. 39. 9   Michel Corrette, Le maitre de clavecin pour l’accompagnement, methode theorique et pratique (Paris, 1753), pp. 91–2.

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part. In his Methode théorique et pratique pour apprendre en peu de tems le violoncelle dans sa perfection … XXIVe ouvrage (Paris, 1741), Corrette explains that, for example, when playing a weak beat that is tied to a strong one (which he calls a syncope), the player ought to give more emphasis to the second note of the tie, which is normally the dissonant one.10 His brief discussion of the syncope, taken together with advice from keyboard treatises about varying the texture of the chordal accompaniment, appears to show that string players also responded to the amount of dissonance in the harmony by adjusting their articulation and using dynamics to add stress to certain bass notes. In another comment addressed specifically to contrebasse players, Corrette indicates that players should pay attention to which notes have bass figures indicated, since the figures indicate the changes of harmony and therefore help the contrebasse player to decide which notes to play. Corrette adds that the contrebasse player ought to play all the bass notes in a slow tempo and should always play the tonic and dominant notes, whether there are figures indicated on the bass line or not.11 Taken together, these words of advice from Corrette suggest that string players need to pay close attention to the harmony implied by the figured bass, and that they also need to be prepared to adjust their dynamics and articulation in order to suit both the chordal accompaniment and the needs of the upper parts in the ensemble. When Not to Play: Silencing the basse continue Most of the basse continue players’ responsibilities revolve around making appropriate decisions about a tasteful accompaniment that supports and enhances the efforts of other members of the ensemble. However, there are at least two occasions when the chordal basse continue instrument should remain silent. One of them is not exclusive to French music; in fact, it was a convention borrowed from Italian practice in which, when the words tasto solo appear, the keyboard player plays only the written bass line without adding any chords. In French music, the use of tasto solo passages came into practice at about the same time as the Italian sonata, although the technique was used only sparingly by French composers. Brossard offers the following instruction, which implies that, at the words tasto solo, all the basse continue instruments would play the bass note (only) in unison. Although he notes that the word accordo may be used to indicate a return to a 10   Michel Corrette, Methode théorique et pratique pour apprendre en peu de tems le violoncelle dans sa perfection (Paris, 1741), p. 22. Further on Corrette’s advice for bowing and articulation on the cello, see the section entitled “Violoncello Bowing for Solo and Ensemble Playing” in Chapter 5, p. 37. 11   Michel Corrette, Methodes Pour apprendre à jouër de la Contre-Basse à 3. à 4. et à 5 cordes, de la Quinte ou Alto et de la Viole d’Orphée, nouvel instrument adjusté sur l’ancienne Viole… (Paris, [1781]), p. 14. Further on how to adjust the bass line as a contrebasse part, see the section entitled “The Contrebasse” in Chapter 4, p. 53.

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chordal realization, one finds much more frequently that the clue must come from the reappearance of bass figures on the bass line: TASTO … One finds often in Italian basso continuo parts the words Tasto solo, which means with a single touch, to indicate that the accompanying instruments, such as the organ, theorbo, etc., must play only the [written] notes of the bassecontinue part, simply and without accompaniment, and continue in this manner until one finds bass figures or the word accordo, which means that one should cease to play simply and begin adding chords. (TASTO … On trouve souvent dans les Basses-Continuës des Italiens, les mots Tasto solo, qui signifient avec une touche seule, pour marquer que les Instrumens à accompagnement, comme l’Orgue, le Théorbe, &c doivent joüer les Notes de la Basse-Continue simplement & sans accompagnement, & cela jusqu’à ce que l’on trouve des chiffres ou le mot Accordo, qui marquent qu’il faut cesser de joüer simplement & faire des Accords, &c.)12

Corrette also explains that, in an Adagio, the violinist (as soloist in a sonata or concerto) may elaborate upon the written part while the bass has a pedal note (point d’orgue). In such a case, the words tasto solo may be indicated in order to show that the chordal instrument should play only the bass in order not to interfere with the violinist’s impromptu elaboration. At the end of his section on the point d’orgue, Corrette directs his readers to Corelli’s violin sonatas, op. 5 for examples of passages in which Adagios should be accompanied in this manner: the pedal point always occurs at the end of an Adagio in a sonata or concerto, and the accompanist holds only the dominant in the bass without adding any harmony, which is indicated by the Italians above the bass note with the words tasto solo, which mean that one must play the note without chords in order to let the violinist give free rein to his genius while he is skillfully introducing dissonances. We can see that in that case, if the accompanist enters with chords while the violinist is engaging in his enthusiasm, not only will he [the accompanist] hamper it, but it would only create a noisy confusion. (que le point d’orgue se fait toujours a la fin d’un Adagio de Sonate ou de Concerto, et que l’accompagnateur ne tient que la note Dominante a la Basse sans faire aucun accord, ce dont les Italiens avertissent en écrivant audessus de cette note Dominante, Tasto solo, qui signifie de toucher la Basse sans accords pour laisser au Violon la liberté de donner l’essort à son génie en maniant les Dissonances avec art. On voit par la que si l’accompagnateur s’avisoit de faire

  Sébastien de Brossard, Dictionaire de musique, third edition (Amsterdam, 1705), p. 171.

12

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des accords pendant que le Violon est dans l’enthousiasme non seulement il le generoit mais même cela ne feroit qu’un charivari.)13

A second French convention that has a potential to silence the chordal basse continue instrument concerns the general practice in opera of using the harpsichord to accompany voices rather than for purely instrumental airs. Figuring practices in the printed scores, the use of the rubric basse continue, and indications in orchestral parts all suggest that the harpsichord remained silent in certain pieces (usually the larger vocal sections such as choruses) and, when it did, the basse continue accompaniment was left to the string instruments (and, when required, the bassoon).14 As Graham Sadler and Shirley Thompson have demonstrated, in full scores of seventeenth-century opera, bass figuring consistently occurs in passages labelled basse continue. When the bass line is labelled basse de violon or bears no label at all, there is no figuring. Since the keyboard player at the Paris Opéra played from a part book, not from the score, it is clear that the player could only perform what was included in the part book. The basse continue part book contained only passages that were labelled basse continue in the score (mainly the vocal music), and the basse de violon part book included only the passages omitted from the basse continue part book (normally the instrumental music, labeled either basse de violon or unlabeled). Which pieces the harpsichord was expected to play were not always precisely the same, but certain general principles can be identified from practices that appear to have been in operation in the period from Lully to Rameau. Baroque and French Pitches: Where is the A? Prior to the twentieth century, the pitch at which various types of music was performed varied from place to place by as much as a third or more. Practices differed according to the instruments being used, the type of music being performed, and local customs or circumstances. To modern performers, the lack of an absolute pitch standard during the Baroque era (and beyond) constitutes an ever-present obstacle to certain types of performance, especially if music from two or more traditions is being combined, as often happens in concert programs   Corrette, Le maitre de clavecin, Chapter 11, “Du Point d’Orgue,” p. 41.   Graham Sadler’s studies of basse continue practice have contributed to a new understanding of how the harpsichord functioned in French opera performance at the Paris Opéra during the Lully-Rameau period. His results have been reported in several articles (for details see the bibliography of modern sources), including “The basse continue in Lully’s Operas: Evidence Old and New,” in Quellenstudien zu Jean-Baptiste Lully/L’œuvre de Lully: Études des sources—Hommage à Lionel Sawkins (Hildesheim, 1999), pp. 382–97; and (with Shirley Thompson) “Marc-Antoine Charpentier and the basse continue,” Basler Jahrbuch für Historische Musikpraxis 18 (1994): 9–29. 13 14

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today. The concept of an agreed-upon pitch standard which is known by everyone in advance of the first rehearsal has obvious advantages, and it often comes as a surprise to modern players when they learn that international agreement on a tuning pitch standard for A was only achieved in the twentieth century. A Baroque pitch standard of a′ =415 (one half-step below a′ =440) was set even later. In recent times, a′ =415 remains a pitch standard for many Baroque performances, but increasingly performers are exploring other pitch standards for specific repertoires and venues, and recordings often present performances at lower or higher pitch standards chosen with specific pieces, instruments, and historical circumstances in mind. Several Baroque and later theorists attempted to measure frequencies, but not until J. H. Scheibler’s Tonmesser in 1834 were these attempts accurate enough to be reliable. The first declaration of a pitch standard was made in France in 1859, when a1=435 Hz (vibrations per second) was adopted by ministerial decree. The same pitch standard was adopted in several other countries, but international agreement was not reached until 1939, when a1=440 Hz became the new pitch standard. Documenting the history of pitch was begun in the mid-nineteenth century. The foundation of a comprehensive approach to understanding and comparing pitch standards in different geographical locations is based on the pioneering work of A. J. Ellis, who made a comprehensive attempt to collect and tabulate hundreds of pitch standards in use from Praetorius’s time onward.15 Subsequent analyses of Ellis’s findings, together with new documents and measurements of wind instruments and organs, have added much to our knowledge of early pitches, although interpretation of the evidence is by no means complete. Arthur Mendel also re-evaluated the existing evidence and added significantly to it.16 Nevertheless, there are some ambiguities in the sources that have sparked disagreements among scholars, and further studies will undoubtedly be needed to address these issues. Continuing the research of Ellis and Mendel, Bruce Haynes has opened some new areas for investigation that have led to more knowledge about geographical areas where specific pitch standards were used at given times, and what practices were used for specific instruments.17 This type of information has proven to be of enormous value to performers, since applying a pitch standard to a specific composer or group of compositions is necessary for a better understanding of how pitch affected decisions about the ways that voices and instruments were combined. One of the principal contributions of Haynes’s research has been the recognition that French woodwinds offer direct evidence of Baroque pitch standards and that   A. J. Ellis, “On the History of Musical Pitch,” Journal of the (Royal) Society of Arts 28 (1880): 293–336, 400–403, and 29 (1881): 109–112. 16   Arthur Mendel, “Pitches in Western Music Since 1500: A Re-Examination,” Acta musicologica 50 (January–December, 1978): 1–93 and 328. 17   Bruce Haynes, A History of Performing Pitch: The Story of “A” (Lanham, MD and Oxford, 2002). 15

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the popularity of new French woodwinds in the late seventeenth century helped to spread French pitches outside of France to other European centers. Thus, together with organ pitches, which had represented a stabilizing factor in Mendel’s research in particular, the measurement of French woodwind pitches conducted by Haynes widens our knowledge considerably. The subject is far too complicated to enter into a detailed presentation of all of the evidence that has been assembled, but a few observations may help to illuminate the types of issues that arise when considering the pitch level for performing French music. When Baroque musicians were not tuning to a particular organ, they often made use of a pitch pipe to set the pitch of a harpsichord or other variable instrument. This device was a small recorder that had a moveable piston, thereby making it a whistle capable of playing the notes of an octave. The device was labelled with the names of the pitches it played, and it was often stamped with a maker’s name. These features help us to know when and where the pitch pipe was used. Such devices were in common use in France during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries (and beyond), and a number of them survive today.18 Measuring the pitch of harpsichord and lute strings on surviving instruments is not entirely reliable, but there is some evidence to suggest that the design scale of these instruments allows comparison of absolute pitches according to their string lengths. On the contrary, the variability of pitch as a result of the way a reed is designed in oboes and bassoons makes them more difficult to use as documents of pitch standard than flutes. The material and construction of early strings introduce a wide variety of possible pitches at which Baroque string instruments sounded. Despite the variability of pitch standards from place to place and over time, there are nevertheless some ways that we can explain how pitches were associated with certain types of music. In France, two pitch standards that were widely used towards the end of the seventeenth century were ton d’Opéra and ton de la Chambre du Roy, suited respectively to opera and chamber music performances. Several theorists refer to these as two different pitches, and evidence strongly suggests that ton d’Opéra was lower than ton de la Chambre du Roy and that both pitches were situated well below modern standard a′ =440. Haynes concludes that ton de la Chambre du Roy was very likely about 404–409 Hz,19 and that ton d’Opéra was about 392 Hz. This difference was less than a half step but still significant enough to be considered as separate pitch levels that corresponded to different musical venues and functions. During the first half of the eighteenth century, a pitch of about a′=409 Hz was employed for chamber music performance,20 but viols and harpsichords were capable of deviating upward or downward from it, perhaps by

18

  See ibid., p. 21.   Ibid., pp. 118–19. 20   Further on pitch, see ibid., especially the useful summary of French pitch on pp. 274–6 and graphs of evidence from surviving wind instruments and organ (pp. 395 and 401) that compare pitches in use at various periods up to 1800. 19

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as much as a semitone, and, if restrung, these instruments could be made to play even higher or lower.21 In modern times, research on pitches used in France during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries has broadened our knowledge of how woodwind instruments in particular influenced the tuning of ensembles and the reasons that pitch standards appear to have remained relatively stable at the Paris Opéra between the 1690s and 1750 or thereabouts.22 The support for a modern assumption that the pitch level that came to be called ton d’Opéra by the end of the seventeenth century was approximately 392 Hz is based on a description of recorders at ton d’Opéra by Loulié (1696) and several examples of extant recorders by well-known French makers from the same period. Examples of woodwind instruments by members of the Hotteterre family and other builders also continued to be produced in the eighteenth century at approximately a′ =390. Although there is evidence for proposing that works by Lully, Campra, and other composers from the 1670s until at least the first two decades of the eighteenth century were performed at approximately a whole step below modern a′ =440, it is less well established that this pitch remained stable for several decades after that point. One of the principal considerations is that we know little about which of the instruments that survive were actually used by professional musicians, and in what circumstances. Of the 76 transverse flutes whose pitches Haynes collected, 30 of them play at 395 Hz or lower (the lowest one at 382 Hz). A number of the remaining instruments play at pitches near Hz 409, and a few others are pitched as high as 435 Hz.23 Much depends upon when and how each of these instruments was used and for what purpose, and such specific information is usually lacking. Nevertheless, evidence suggests overwhelmingly that ton d’Opéra was recognized as stable enough to be a reference point for musicians. Other references to a French pitch standard that can be called French chamber pitch are found in writings from the end of the seventeenth century and the first decade of the eighteenth century by Sauveur, Loulié, Brossard, and others. As we have seen, this pitch was called ton de la Chambre du Roy (or ton de la chambre) and was slightly less than a semitone higher than ton de l’Opéra. Wind players who performed at the Opéra and at the French court would have had to use different instruments or adapt their setup accordingly.24 Additionally, Haynes notes that pitches of French organs that have been measured support the notion that a chamber pitch standard of 409 Hz appears to have been adopted by French 21

  See ibid, pp. 274–6, for a useful summary of French pitch, and (pp. 395 and 401) evidence from surviving wind instruments and organs for pitches in use at various periods up to 1800. On evidence for retuning or restringing of keyboard instruments, see R. Dean Anderson, “Michel Corrette and the Stringing, Scaling, and Pitch of French Harpsichords,” in Early Keyboard Journal/Southeastern Historical Keyboard Society 21 (2003): 83. 22   Haynes, A History of Performing Pitch, 100. 23   Ibid., Appendix 4, pp. 432–4. 24   Ibid., p. 123.

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instrument builders, and that the modern reference point of a′ =415 Hz is somewhat high for French chamber music in the first half of the eighteenth century.25 String players may have been able to retune their instruments by a half-step or more, but players may have chosen instead to change strings or use another instrument for rehearsing and performing at different pitches. We still know little about how string players (or even harpsichord players) adapted to the needs of different pitch levels, but maintaining the elasticity of gut strings in particular appears to require that they remain at or near a given pitch, which suggests that players would have used different instruments or changed strings as the need arose. Using Historical Temperaments In addition to choosing a pitch level for performing Baroque music, players need to consider whether a historical temperament may be appropriate. As is the case with the choice of pitch level, there are many considerations that affect the way instruments sound and blend with each other. Equal temperament, with its capacity for incorporating enharmonic tones (such as E# and F) that permit modulations to distant keys, was known and used in the eighteenth century, but the availability of more pure intervals in other temperaments heightened the contrast between dissonances and consonances, which was preferred by many musicians. There is strong evidence that the non-equal temperaments that French harpsichordists preferred in the seventeenth century continued to be employed throughout the eighteenth century.26 There are remarkably few references to specific temperaments in treatises for woodwind or string instruments. We can assume that the reason for this absence of information is that tuning to a keyboard instrument, as well as listening carefully to intonation while playing in an ensemble, simply required practice and experience. It may seem likely to us that string players would prefer temperaments that permitted their open strings to be tuned in perfect (or nearly perfect) fourths and fifths, but specific references to such preferences are lacking. Historical evidence for the use of unequal temperaments on the viol is sparse, although there are a few references that appear to suggest that some players did make use of them. Mark Lindley argues that when Marin Marais used certain unusual keys (such as F# minor and B minor), he chose them because they have more telling dissonances in unequal temperaments.27 It is also difficult to say exactly how viol players may have accommodated their frets to non-equal temperaments, since precise directions for setting frets in various temperaments 25

  Ibid., pp. 117–19.   Further on the use of historical temperaments, see Haynes’s comprehensive bibliography and also Mark Lindley, “Tuning and Intonation,” in Performance Practice: Music after 1600, The Norton/Grove Handbooks in Music, ed. Howard Mayer Brown and Stanley Sadie (New York and London, 1989), pp. 169–85. 27   Mark Lindley, Lutes, Viols, & Temperaments (Cambridge, 1984), pp. 38–42. 26

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have not survived. Players who are interested in investigating the effect of using unequal temperaments on the viol may turn to Elizabeth Liddle’s appendix entitled “Tuning” in Alison Crum’s Play the Viol.28 Liddle discusses various temperaments and how they can be realized on the viol, and she also offers general principles for players who wish to set frets unequally for ensemble or solo playing.

  Alison Crum with Sonia Jackson, Play the Viol (Oxford, 1989), pp. 155–64.

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Part IV Composer Profiles

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Chapter 9

Marin Marais: Viol Player, Composer, and Teacher extraordinaire Marin Marais (1656–1728) is regarded today as a central figure in the French school of viol playing. At over 600 individual pieces, his total oeuvre is remarkable not only in terms of its size but also because of its enduring appeal to viol players and listeners alike. Scholars have placed considerable emphasis upon Marais’s career as both performer and composer, but our estimation of the breadth of his talents still remains somewhat incomplete. Marais operated within multiple spheres: as a court musician performing both solo and chamber music, as a viol teacher, as a highly successful composer, and as a conductor of opera. It is in the area of opera that his contributions remain least well known: his tragédies have begun recently to receive some attention from scholars and performers, but there is as yet no scholarly (or even a facsimile) edition of them.1 However, since the early 1980s, some significant steps have been taken: the publication of facsimile editions of Marais’s solo and chamber music and, significantly, the publication of a sevenvolume collected edition devoted to his instrumental music have added very positively to the formation of a more complete picture of Marais as a performer and composer.2 Concerning Marais’s responsibilities as a viol teacher, we still know very little. Although he is generally acknowledged to have been a central figure in the establishment of the French school of viol playing, his objectives as a teacher of the instrument and the role that teaching played alongside his other major responsibilities have received little attention. One of the reasons for the neglect of Marais’s contributions as viol pedagogue arises from the paucity of historical records that document his teaching. Apart from an occasional mention in historical accounts that he taught his children to play the viol (some of whom later became professional viol players), information about his pupils and circle of musical acquaintances is scarce. Nevertheless, one suspects that teaching occupied an important part of his musical responsibilities, for he was frequently viewed by his contemporaries as equal in stature to François Couperin le grand, who was highly 1

  The most comprehensive scholarly evaluation of Marais as a composer can be found in the monograph by Sylvette Milliot and Jérôme de La Gorce, Marin Marais (Paris, 1991). On the interpretation of Marais’s music, Hans Bol’s La basse de viole du temps de Marin Marais et d’Antoine Forqueray, Utrechtse Bijdragen tot de Muziekwetenschap 7 (Bilthoven, 1973) remains an indispensable guide for viol players. 2   Marin Marais, The Instrumental Works, ed. John Hsu (New York, 1980–2002), 7 volumes.

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respected as both a composer and harpsichord teacher.3 Not only did each of these musicians perform to exceptional critical acclaim on their respective instruments, but they also influenced a succeeding generation of players through their teaching. In this profile, I examine several aspects of Marais’s career as composer, performer, and teacher. Some of the evidence I investigate adds to our image of Marais as a teacher, tells us how eighteenth-century viol players may have applied his teachings to their study, and also shows what we can learn from the acknowledged French master today. Marais’s Life and Career Marin Marais was born in Paris on May 31, 1656 to Vincent Marais, a shoemaker, and his wife, Catherine Bellanger.4 Guided by his uncle, Louis Marais, a priest and doctor of theology, Marin became a choir boy at St. Germain-l’Auxerrois, a parish that enjoyed the protection of the French court and where his uncle served as a vicar. There the young Marin studied with François Chapperon from 1667 until 1672. By the time he left that position at the age of 17, he had very likely learned to play the viol and was eager to seek further study with SainteColombe.5 Titon du Tillet relates that the young Marais, already quite proficient at the instrument, approached the master but that Sainte-Colombe attempted to keep some of his playing techniques secret. By hiding in his room, young Marin heard Sainte-Colombe practice and gained what he needed. Titon also relates that Sainte-Colombe later claimed it was possible for a student to surpass his master, but that Marais would never see anyone surpass him on the instrument.6   Further on Couperin and his important harpsichord treatise, L’art de toucher le clavecin (Paris, 1716), see David Tunley, François Couperin and “The Perfection of Music” (Aldershot, 2004), p. 18. 4   Further on Marais’s early career, see François Lesure, “Marin Marais, sa carrière, sa famille,” Revue belge de musicologie 7 (1953): 129–36 and John Hsu’s “Introduction” to Marin Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 1, pp. xiii–xxiv. Sylvette Milliot and Jérôme de La Gorce (Marin Marais, especially pp. 13–22) cite documentary evidence for the few facts that are known about the composer’s early life. 5   Despite his importance as a teacher and composer for the viol, Sainte-Colombe has remained a somewhat shadowy figure. The signature of a Jean de Sainte-Colombe (or Sainte Coulumbe) appears on certain notary records in the 1650s and may be that of the viol player; his birth and death dates are unknown. He was named as a “maître pour la violle” living in Paris in 1692 (see Abraham du Pradel [Nicolas de Blegny], Le livre commode des adresses de Paris pour 1692, ed. Édouard Fournier, 2 vols [Paris, 1878], vol. 1, p. 209). His date of death is usually assumed to be near 1701, the year that Marais published a published a Tombeau po[ur] Mr de Ste Colombe in his Pièces de viole, 2e livre (Paris, 1701), no. 109, viol part book pp. 111–12. 6   Évrard Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françois (Paris, 1732), p. 625: “[Sainte-Colombe] ayant été interrogé par de personnes de distinction sur ce qu’il pensoit de sa maniere de 3

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Marais subsequently joined the orchestra of the Paris Opéra as a viol player. The precise year of his entry there is not known, but as early as 1676 he took part in a performance of Lully’s Atys.7 At the Opéra, Marais performed as a member of the petit choeur, a small group of musicians who accompanied vocal airs and recitatives. From an early age, Marais took an interest in composition, both for the stage and also for the viol, and Lully thought highly enough of him to invite him to conduct some of the master’s works. Marais continued to perform as a viol player at the Opéra, as we know from his name which appears on a bass part for Michel de La Barre’s opéra-ballet, Le triomphe des arts (1700), alongside those of the basse de violon player Théobalde (Théobaldo di Gatti)], and violinist JeanFéry Rebel.8 In 1679, Marais accepted an appointment as ordinaire de la musique du Roy at the French court. Three years earlier, at the age of 20, he had married Catherine Damicourt. Nineteen children were born to them,9 several of whom became accomplished viol players, the most prominent among them being Roland Marais. Another son, Vincent, eventually replaced Marais as a viol player at the French court in 1708 after Marin had held the position for nearly 30 years.10 The following year, as Titon du Tillet reports, Marais performed at court with three of his sons, while the fourth son turned pages.11 One feature that sets Marais apart from Couperin is that Marais’s career also embraced the field of opera. Marais composed four tragédies that were performed at the Paris Opéra during his lifetime, and some of them were also revived thereafter. These were Alcide, ou le triomphe d’Hercule (with Louis Lully, 1693), Ariadne & Bacchus (1696), Alcione (1706), and Semêlé (1709). All of these works helped to secure his reputation as an opera composer of considerable talent. As composer of four tragédies that were performed at the Paris Opéra and as a conductor there, Marais was able to build a reputation that spread well beyond Paris. Marais’s tragédies were judged to be among the most successful works in the decade or jouer, il leur répondit qu’il y avoit des Eleves qui pouvoient surpasser leur Maître, mais que le jeune Marais n’en trouveroit jamais qui le surpassât. Pour rendre la Viole plus sonore Marais est le premier qui ait imaginé de faire filer en laiton les trois dernieres cordes des Basses.” 7 Milliot and La Gorce, Marin Marais, pp. 25–6. Marais’s name appears in the livret for Atys, which was performed that year at Sainte-Germain-en-Laye. 8 Ibid., p. 44. The manuscript bass part is held at the Bibliothèque de l’Opéra, Paris, MAT. 18/25 (1–42). 9 Some of Marais’s children did not survive childhood. Details of 13 of them have been traced by Milliot and La Gorce; see ibid., p. 47 and the genealogical table, p. 280. 10 Ibid., p. 55. 11 Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françois, p. 627: “En 1709 il presenta quatre [de ses enfants] à Louis le Grand, & donna à Sa Majesté un Concert de ses Pieces de Viole, executé par lui & par trois de ses fils: le quatriéme, qui portoit pour lors le petit-Colet, avoit soin de ranger les Livres sur les pupitres, & d’en tourner les feuillets.”

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so after Lully’s death in 1687, a period when new tragédies en musique met with mixed success, and a number of works failed to last a full season. Some passages, such as the tempest in Alcione (Paris, 1706), were held in high esteem for their unique effect. During the period in which his stage works were premiered, Marais served as conductor (batteur de mesure) at the Paris Opéra, replacing André Campra, from 1704.12 After about 1713, Marais conducted less frequently at the Opéra, and he gradually withdrew from other musical activities, but he continued to publish his own compositions until 1725. He died in Paris in 1728. Few specific facts are known about Marais’s musical training or his viol teachers.13 He composed musical tributes (tombeaux) to three musicians whose teachings were important to him: Pierre Meliton, Sainte-Colombe, and Lully. Marais is also known to have taught several viol players who became important exponents of the instrument (such as Jacques Morel and Ernst Christian Hesse). Other pupils about whom we know little include a viol player by the name of Boutillier who belonged to the musical household of the Duchesse de Guise.14 Notwithstanding an account in the Mercure de France for June, 1738—a decade after Marais’s death—reporting that several other viol players studied with Marais (including Louis de Caix d’Hervelois, Hilaire Verloge, and Forqueray), these statements most likely belong more to legend than fact.15 The traditional modern view has also held that, given Marais’s obligations in supporting a large family, he would have seen viol teaching primarily as a way of supplementing his income.16 However, as we shall see, it would appear that he possessed a much broader interest in pedagogy than has previously been recognized and that he pursued this interest throughout his career.

  Milliot and La Gorce, Marin Marais, pp. 45–6.   Julie Anne Vertrees Sadie summarizes the facts that are known about Marais as a teacher in her article “Marin Marais and His Contemporaries,” The Musical Times 119 (August, 1978): 672. 14   Ibid. 15   Sadie (ibid., p. 673, fn. 10) notes that [Pierre-Louis] Daquin de Châteaulyon (Siecle litteraire de Louis XV, ou lettres sur les hommes celebres [Amsterdam, 1754], vol. 1, p. 143) states that Forqueray did not study with Marais. The context of Daquin’s statement makes it clear that the Forqueray in question was Antoine, not his son Jean-Baptiste Forqueray; both Forquerays were considered rivals of Marais, and they were also among the few considered to be his equal at the viol. 16   Sadie, “Marin Marais and His Contemporaries,” p. 672. 12 13

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Sources of Marais’s Music Printed music for viol(s) Marais’s five books of solo music for the viol represent the largest corpus of music for that instrument written by a French composer. The only solo viol music published in France prior to Marais’s was a collection by Demachy entitled Pieces de violle en musique et en tablature (Paris, 1685) that includes eight unaccompanied suites, four each in tablature and staff notation. Published over a period of 39 years from 1686 to 1725, Marais’s five books for the viol consist largely of solo works for the viol with basse continue. Each of them was published in separate part books for viol and basse continue.17 Marais also published two important collections of chamber music that featured the violin in combination with the viol and basse continue. Marais’s first book, Pieces a une et a deux violes composées par M. Marais ordin[ai]re de la musique de la Chambre du Roy, bears no date on its title page, but the royal privilege is dated August 20, 1686. The viol part book was very likely published in the same year. It bears a dedication to Jean-Baptiste Lully, whom Marais cites as his teacher and benefactor and whose “learned and esteemed works” (compositions sçavantes et admirables) had served as a model to the young composer. The book also contains an avertissement, in which Marais explains the ornament signs, marks associated with fingering (such as the tenüe, coulé de doigt, and doigt couché), and bowing indications (t for tirez, p for poussez).18 Marais included this type of introduction in each of his subsequent viol books too, and together his avertissements constitute an excellent digest of his teaching practices and how he intended the ornament signs and other marks in his music to be interpreted. The music in Book 1 consists of a total of 83 pieces arranged in groups according to key (essentially they are suites, although Marais does not yet use that term). The four solo suites are followed by two more substantial groups of pieces for two viols, the final piece of which is a moving Tombeau de Mr Meliton for two viols in G minor. To viol players in 1686, Marais’s first publication must have appeared novel in several ways. Although Sainte-Colombe had excelled in composing duos

17

  The Amsterdam publisher Estienne Roger issued some of Marais’s viol music and his book of trios, which helped to spread the composer’s reputation outside of France. The Roger editions do not bear individual dates on the title pages. See François Lesure, “La datation des premières éditions d’Estienne Roger (1697–1702),” Bericht über den Internationalen Musikwissenschaftlichen Kongress, Bamberg 1953 (Kassel and Basle, 1954): 273–9; and Hsu, “Introduction,” Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 1, p. xvii. 18   For reproductions and translations of the title page, dedication, and avertissement, see Appendices 1–3 in Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 1, pp. 186–91. The avertissement from the basse continue part book (1689) appears in vol. 1, Appendix 3.

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for two bass viols,19 Marais’s suites for two viols were the first pieces of that type to be published in France. Moreover, as pieces conceived with a basse continue, these pieces exhibit a considerably expanded palette of textures and sonorities that extends well beyond the characteristics of Sainte-Colombe’s two-part writing. The dimensions of most of Marais’s solo suite movements surpass those of Demachy too, and Marais includes many florid doubles that hold great appeal for players as demonstrations of the composer’s gift for florid elaboration and ornamentation. There are also more compact movements such as the gavottes and menuets, which exhibit balanced phrases and largely stepwise melodies similar to the vocal airs and dances in Marais’s stage works. In Marais’s first book, one cannot fail to note the 30-year-old composer’s maturity and mastery of the instrument as well as his exceptional melodic and harmonic gifts. The Tombeau de Mr Meliton for two solo viols and basse continue features a variety of dense textures replete with dissonances and seventh chords punctuated by silences. Much of the interest in Marais’s writing seems to arise from the great variety of sonorities (including passages that descend frequently to Example 9.1 Marin Marais, Tombeau de Mr Meliton (Book I, 1686/1689) for two solo viols and basse continue. Source: Marin Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 1, ed. John Hsu (New York: Broude Brothers Limited, 1980). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions

19   See Paul Hooreman, Concerts a deux violes esgales du Sieur de Sainte-Colombe (Paris, 1973).

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the low A string) he employs in the tombeau. In Example 9.1, as viol 2 responds imitatively in measure 60 to a six-note motive stated in the previous measure (not shown here) by viol 1, viol 1 adds parallel sixths above viol 2, culminating in a long held note (mm. 61–62) on the top string of the instrument while viol 2 descends in stepwise fashion, doubling the basse continue briefly and coming to rest on E@ on the low D string. The succeeding measures introduce even more unusual sonorities: the two upper viol parts cross briefly in measure 63 and again in measures 67 and 69. Such crossing of parts, as realized in performance, draws attention to the unique sonority of each viol, since no two instruments sound exactly alike even when they are playing identical passages. Three years after the viol part book appeared, Marais published the basse continue part book, Pièces à une et à deux violes. It contains, in addition to bass parts for the previously published works, ten new works. The latter items, all presented in score format, are exceptionally diverse: they include several movements in F# minor, a ground bass with variations in G major that can be played by two unaccompanied viols, and a fantaisie in B minor and rondeau in G minor for solo viol and basse continue. In the avertissement to this part book, Marais notes that keyboard players may transpose the bass parts by a half step or more in order to play in a more convenient key, and that the viol can take its pitch from the harpsichord. Marais’s awareness that his music suited various skill levels among viol players can be seen in his indication that the final piece (rondeau), like the other new movements, is intended for “players who have a great ability on the viol” (ceux qui auront une tres grande habitude sur la Viole). Marais also remarks in the avertissement that the significant period of three years between the publication of the viol part book and the basse continue part arose because the engraving process was time-consuming. Nevertheless, he claims that the bass parts are essential and that they are suitable to be played on the harpsichord or the theorbo.20 Marais’s second book of viol music, Pièces de violes (Paris, 1701), was again published in two separate part books. It was dedicated to his patron and friend the Duc d’Orléans, a viol player and passionate devotee of music. At a total of 144 pieces, this book is the most substantial of Marais’s five books: this diverse group of pieces is arranged in eight suites (the word suite is used only in the basse continue part book), each containing between 13 and 20 movements. Whereas certain movements such as the menuets make relatively modest demands on the player, this book also includes a particularly challenging set of 32 variations or Couplets de folies, as well as two more tombeaux, one for Lully and the other for Sainte-Colombe. In his Couplets de folies, Marais presents the chordal progression and dotted rhythm typical of the folia pattern, followed by variations that successively introduce different ornamentation, figuration, bowing patterns, and contrasting meters. The Couplets de folies offer a virtual compendium of 20   See the facsimile reproduction and translation in Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 1, pp. 190–91.

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techniques and sonorities that can be drawn from the viol. Within the remaining pieces in Book 2, most movements are those typically found in a suite, but a few have character titles such as Caprice, Cloches ou Carillon, les Voix humaines, and La Villageoise. In the avertissement to this volume, Marais explains various types of dots (such as articulation dots within slurs, and dots that indicate notes égales) as well as dots used to indicate on which string a note is played. Marais indicates that the pieces in this book are appropriate to play on “all sorts of instruments, such as the organ, harpsichord, theorbo, lute, violin, and flute.”21 In addition to the significantly larger number of individual pieces in this book as compared with Book 1, there is exceptional variety among them: certain preludes and chaconnes are quite challenging technically—as are the sarabandes, which tend to be chordal and laden with passages in parallel thirds. The Tombeau pour Mr de Ste Colombe is a remarkably poignant piece replete with expressive nuances, including two types of vibrato, tirades, and a concluding phrase of 15 successive chords whose upper notes descend stepwise through an octave, finally coming to rest on a double trill just prior to the final chord. Marais’s compositional skill appears to be fully realized in the pieces from Book 2, and they offer players an almost limitless variety of techniques and sonorities. It was not until a decade later in 1711 that Marais published his third book, Pieces de violes, in two part books containing 134 pieces in nine tonalities. Many of the suite movements in this collection bear descriptive titles such as Allemande la Gotique or Gavotte la Sincope, and several movements are written in imitation of other instruments, such as La Trompette and Menuet la Guitarre. The music of Marais’s first three books undoubtedly offers viol players great variety and interest, but it is his fourth book, published in 1717, that has generally been viewed as the most diverse of all.22 In this book, entitled Pieces a une et a trois Violes, perhaps more than in any of Marais’s other publications, the composer appears to display a pedagogical concern for identifying and satisfying the needs of players of different levels. For that reason, he divides the book into three parts, the first of which is directed toward “players who prefer easy, tuneful pieces with few chords” (pour les personnes qui preferent aux Pieces difficiles, celles qui sont aisées, chantantes, et peu chargés d’accords).23 In this section, which contains 55 pieces arranged as six suites, each suite begins with a prelude and includes several of the traditional dance movements as well as a variety of character pieces with titles such as La Provençale, Le Basque, and La Matelotte. Marais no longer 21   Avertissement, n.p.: “J’ay eu attention en les composant a les rendre propres pour être jouéés sur toutes sortes d’instrumens comme l’orgue, clavecin, theorbe, luth, violon, flûtte allemande …” For a facsimile and English translation, see Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 2, pp. 250–53. 22   Clyde H. Thompson, “Marin Marais’s Pièces de Violes,” Musical Quarterly 46 (October, 1960): 492; Milliot and La Gorce, Marin Marais, p. 130. 23   Avertissement, n.p. For a facsimile reproduction and English translation, see Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 4, pp. 196–7.

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includes any courantes, and the number of doubles is also reduced from that in his previous books. The second part of Book 4 is devoted to 34 movements beginning with a suite in E@ major entitled Suitte d’un goût Etranger, followed by additional pieces for “advanced players who prefer difficult pieces” (ceux qui sont avancez sur la Viole … ceux qui n’aiment pas les Pieces faciles).24 The third and final section consists of 21 movements in two suites for two solo viols and basse continue. The combination is identical to the one called for in his Book 1, but here Marais makes it clear that a third bass viol doubles the basse continue, hence his title Pieces a 3 violes. Only the two upper parts are included in the viol part book, and they are presented in separate parts on facing pages so that two players can share one copy. The third viol is expected to play from the bass part book along with a chordal instrument for the basse continue (harpsichord or theorbo). The second suite is by far the more challenging of the two, owing especially to its expansive opening Caprice and a haunting Muzette, which features long slurs, passages in successive thirds, and unusual techniques such as holding a note on one string while playing as many as 28 notes on the string above it.25 Marais’s fifth book of Pièces de violes, published in 1725, shares similar features with Books 2 and 3, in that it presents a significant number of pieces that are of modest difficulty. The total of 118 movements is arranged as seven suites, each of which includes 11 to 24 pieces. Many of the movements in this book bear descriptive titles such as Marche a la Turque and La Babillarde. The final three pieces (La Poitevine, La Paraza, and Le Tact) are separate movements, each in a different key, and not part of a suite. In his avertissement, Marais explains that this book was delayed at the engraving stage for more than a year. In order to please players of different levels, he indicates that he has begun each suite with a few pieces of moderate difficulty. Forty-three of the movements bear a decorative cartouche enclosing each title, indicating that they are of greater technical difficulty. He also draws attention to two bowing indications for chords: sec (dry, or plain) and en plein (with the notes bowed together and struck all at once).26 This collection includes the richly chordal Tombeau pour Marais le Cadet, a touching memorial in G minor for his son Sylvain (b. 1689). The most unusual piece in Book 5—perhaps in Marais’s entire oeuvre—is surely the movement from his suite in E minor entitled “The operation for removal of a stone” (Le tableau de l’operation de la taille).27 This vividly programmatic movement in E minor describes the stages that a patient underwent during a lithotomy (removal of a bladder stone), a surgical procedure that Marais himself is thought to have undergone in about 1720. Each step of the operation is described with a short printed title that describes the stage of the operation and the patient’s 24

  Ibid.  Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 4, pp. 183–5. 26   See the facsimile and English translation of the avertissement in ibid., vol. 5, pp. 198–9. 27   Ibid., vol. 5, pp. 175–6. 25

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emotional state, such as the patient’s “trembling upon seeing the apparatus” (frémissement en le voyant) and “losing one’s voice” after the incision (icy l’on perd quasi la voix). The latter phrase is marked doux on a long-held note (e″′), the highest note in the entire viol solo literature. This note lies well off the end of the fingerboard of the instrument, where “losing one’s voice” seems almost obligatory. Expressive musical gestures and textual indications also describe the incision, bleeding, and wrapping of the wound (see Example 9.2).28 The postoperative recovery is depicted in three subsequent movements, the first of which is marked gai and bears a descriptive title (Les Relevailles). Research on the history of the lithotomy has shown that the steps in Marais’s musical depiction bear remarkable resemblance to the surgical methods in use at the time he composed the piece. Even the brevity of the movement—only 34 measures, or about three minutes of music—accurately represents the procedure: it was reported that a surgeon was able to perform eight of them within a half Example 9.2 Marin Marais, Le tableau de l’operation de la taille (Book 5, 1725) for viol and basse continue. Source: Marin Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 5, ed. John Hsu (New York: The Broude Trust, 2000). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions

28

  Further on the descriptive titles, see John Hsu’s introduction to ibid., vol. 5, pp. xv–xvi. The titles do not appear in the facsimile edition (Courlay, 1994), which purports to represent the print held at the Bibliothèque Ingimbertine de Carpentras under the shelf number 817. No explanation is given for their absence.

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hour.29 Surgical instruments had been developed specifically for this operation, which followed procedures developed in the sixteenth century by Pierre Franco and described in a treatise by François Colot.30 The actual removal of the stone was accomplished by the insertion of a scissor-like device with teeth to grip the stone called a bec de corbin. This is the instrument to which Marais refers when he describes the introduction de la tenette (Example 9.2, m. 20), indicating a dynamic nuance (e for enflé, or a swell) on the rising notes of the phrase. This type of surgery was fairly common during the early eighteenth century and was even performed on children (often as a result of malnutrition). Whereas long-term side effects were common and, at the at the turn of the eighteenth century, fewer than half the patients that underwent the operation survived, by the time Marais underwent the operation, survival rates had greatly improved.31 The historical facts surrounding medical procedures in the early eighteenth century paint a grim picture, one that stands somewhat at odds with Marais’s musical representation of the experience. His piece recapitulates each step as an intensely expressive and detailed image, but the overall impression upon the listener is one of determination and, ultimately, survival. Les Relevailles presents a “recovery” in which the operation’s positive result is confirmed by a change to E major and an almost euphoric state, with the melody turning on itself again and again in two different meters (2 and þ¾). Overall, one senses in the Tableau de l’operation and Les Relevailles Marais providing an opportunity for the viol to exceed its normal boundaries as a string instrument and to become a human voice, replacing the composer’s own voice that was rendered silent (both literally and figuratively). Gradually the player is able to use the viol’s voice to describe and survive adversity and to announce his own recovery. Chamber music for strings In addition to his five books of solo viol music, Marais published two collections of ensemble music for several instruments with basse continue, one relatively early in his career and the other towards the end of his career. The Pièces en trio pour les flutes, violon, & dessus de viole appeared in 1692, six years after his first book of viol pieces. The other, entitled La Gamme et autres morceaux de simphonie, was published in 1723, two years prior to his fifth book. The music in these two volumes responds to the change in musical taste that took place during the early

  Hélène Vigroux, “Marin Marais et le Tableau de l’Opération de la Taille,” Médécine des arts: approche médicales et scientifique des pratiques artistiques 4 (1993): 27. 30   For a brief history of this type of surgery, see ibid., pp. 25–7, and Georges Raymond, “La lithotomie musicale ou le théâtre de l’opération de la taille de Marin Marais,” Histoire des sciences médicales, Société française d’histoire de la médecine 22 (1988): 141–50, especially p. 146. 31   Raymond, “La lithotomie musicale,” p. 147. 29

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eighteenth century with the growing interest in Italian music and the violin. It is also apparent that the two collections were intended for quite different audiences. The first collection (Pièces en trio) was published in a set of three part books (1er dessus, 2e dessus, and basse continue). The title page of the volume indicates that Marais was “Ordinaire de la Musique de la Chambre du Roy” at the time of its publication. It contains a total of 68 pieces in six suites—dance movements, preludes, and a symphonie—for two treble instruments and a bass. Pieces in this collection represent the sort of music that was used at court for informal musicmaking and that would also have appealed to Parisian musical amateurs. In his dedication, Marais speaks in laudatory terms about his dedicatee, Mlle Rolland, as a dancer, singer, and player of many instruments who had heard most of the pieces prior to publication and who provided him with inspiration.32 Marie-Anne Rolland (or Roland)—daughter of Barthélemy Rolland, who held the position of conseiller secrétaire du roi—was a professional dancer at the French court in the mid-1680s33 whom Titon du Tillet praised for her “nobility and grace” (la noblesse & les graces de sa Danse).34 As Milliot and La Gorce noted, Mlle Rolland was very likely a family friend to Marais, since she also stood as godmother to Marais’s son AnneMarc (born in 1679).35 In the trio volume, Marais also includes a poetic madrigal addressed to the Muses, in which “L’adorable Roland” is cited for her “hundred different talents” (cent talens divers).36 Marais’s second book of ensemble music, La Gamme et autres morceaux de simphonie, published in 1723, contrasts in several ways with his earlier collection of trios. The largest point of departure is that, in contrast to all of his previous instrumental music, this collection was published in score format rather than in separate part books. It contains three individual works, each designated for violin, viol, and harpsichord. Another unusual feature is the indication “clavecin” on the basse continue part, which suggests that a second viol was not intended to join the basse continue for these works. The first work, La Gamme en forme de petit opéra, is a very substantial work; at 892 measures, it is the longest single movement in Marais’s instrumental oeuvre. It explores different tonalities successively from C (UT) to C, rising and falling diatonically. Sections proceed continuously with frequent changes of meter, tempo, texture, and character, and each instrument takes the lead for brief episodes, providing the listener with an overall impression of great variety and contrast.

32

  See the facsimile reproduction and English translation of the dedication in Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 6, pp. 150–51. 33   Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françois, p. xlix. See also Milliot and La Gorce, Marin Marais, pp. 133–4. After her marriage, she was known as the Marquise de Saint-Genié. 34   Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françois, p. xlix. 35   Milliot and La Gorce, Marin Marais, pp. 49–50. 36   Facsimile and English translation in Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 7, pp. 152– 3. See also the critical facsimile of the Marais Pièces en trio, ed. John Hsu (New York, 2001).

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The second work in this collection, Sonate à la maresienne in C major, is also unique in that it represents the only example of an Italian sonata in Marais’s music. It contains several short sections, some of which are in binary form and bear dances titles such as sarabande and gigue. One section is marked gravement in duple meter with expressive ninth chords and an extended phrase featuring tirades for the violin and a written indication that the phrase should gradually increase in volume as the violin line rises and the bass descends.37 The piece is apparently meant to be performed continuously without pause between sections. The third work, Sonnerie de Sainte Geneviève du Mont de Paris, deservedly ranks among Marais’s most popular pieces with concert audiences today. Its simple three-note bass pattern (the pitches D, F, E) in triple meter forms the basis for a remarkably rich and varied pattern of textural contrasts featuring virtuosity from the viol in particular and conjuring up the pealing of church bells with its blend of sonorities. Although Marais’s musical career covered an array of responsibilities as performer, conductor, and opera composer, he continued to pursue publishing music for viol throughout his career. His interest in teaching is apparent from the care with which he indicated bowings, fingerings, and dynamic nuances. From the printed explanations of these signs he included in several volumes of his music, and from the way that he indicated what skill levels were required to play his pieces, we can recognize his pedagogical concern from the first book onward. In their formal dimensions, several pieces may seem grand in scale, but they never exhibit the unbridled expansiveness of the music of his teacher, SainteColombe. Whereas Sainte-Colombe’s music can be almost rhapsodic at times, especially in his sweeping preludes, Marais’s music has a clearer phrase structure and demonstrates a firm basis in French dance rhythms, balanced phrases, and symmetry. The melodies in Marais’s music are more transparent to the listener, lyrical, and often memorable in the way that Lully’s vocal airs are too, a feature that Marais may have learned from that master.

37   See Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 7, p. 65, mm. 262–266. Marais adds the direction, “un peu plus fort et toujours en augmentant jusqu’à la fin” in mm. 263–4.

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Marais as editor of his own works Marais’s attention to detail in laying down precise indications for bowings, fingerings, and ornaments in his music is well known. Equally important are the instructions he left as prefatory remarks to each of his viol books; these avertissements contain comments and advice about playing the viol that deal with left-hand position, bowing, and a host of other issues.38 Together, this information helps us to form a broader picture of his pedagogical principles and attitudes toward teaching. A recent investigation by John Hsu has added another dimension to our knowledge of Marais’s concern for communicating his intentions precisely in his prints. Hsu examined the states of the multiple copies of Marais’s prints in order to determine how and when Marais supervised changes to the plates from which the music was printed. By examining multiple copies of the print for each of Marais’s part books, Hsu was able to identify the “terminal state” of the plates; this state represents how the music looked after it had undergone corrections and changes that are believed to have been made under Marais’s supervision. Because of the way that printed sheets were compiled in the printer’s shop at various times, not all copies of a particular book will contain an identical number of “corrected” sheets. Some of the production details differ slightly for each book that Marais published, and some volumes underwent more changes than others. In some cases, the basse continue part book underwent little or no change, but the number of alterations to the solo viol part is often quite significant. Among the five books of solo music by Marais, Book 1 contains the greatest number of alterations to the solo and basse continue parts. Hsu demonstrates that these alterations fall into groups that arise from copies that have an “early” assembly date reflecting the initial state of the plates (1686–1689), and a “final” stage indicating copies that were assembled after March 1, 1689. It appears likely that demand for the solo part book increased when the basse continue part book became available in 1689, as shown by the significant number of copies of the solo part book that were assembled that year.39 This circumstance may account for the large number of alterations that were made to the plates for Book 1. Collation of multiple copies of Marais’s solo part book for Book 1 allowed Hsu to propose a tentative chronology for assemblage of corrected copies of the   Gordon J. Kinney discusses each of Marais’s avertissements in detail and provides English translations for them as well in his article “Marin Marais as Editor of His Own Compositions,” JVdGSA 3 (1966): 5–16. He points out that the dedication to Book 3 also contains useful guidance about performance; see his translation, p. 12. Kinney’s use of the word “editor” with regard to Marais differs slightly from my own. I apply the term to Marais’s own emendations and corrections in his printed music. Facsimiles of Marais’s avertissements and dedications can be found in the relevant volumes of the Marais edition (ed. John Hsu) with English translations. Facsimiles can also be found in Viole de gambe, France 1600–1800 (Courlay, 2005). 39  Marais, Instrumental Works, vol. 1, “The Sources,” pp. 165–9. 38

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print. A list of variants as represented in these copies offers a unique opportunity to gain some insight into the composer’s changes and refinements in individual movements.40 Variants between the earliest version of pieces in Book 1 and readings from the terminal state demonstrate that Marais not only corrected errors in the music, but also that many of the alterations involve small editorial changes, such as added (or revised) slurs, bow directions, ornaments, and fingerings. It seems remarkable to discover that alterations of this type were carried out in nearly every piece in Book 1. Whereas it would be important to look at each of these alterations individually before proposing overarching reasons for Marais’s concern with such details, it seems readily apparent that many of the alterations were made with a view to communicating technical information to players in as precise a manner as possible. Although each of Marais’s subsequent books for viol also bears some changes that correspond to an earlier and a later state of the plates, variants appear generally more numerous in Book 1 than elsewhere. Hsu attributes this situation to the period of time between the publication of the solo viol part book and the basse continue. He suggests that after this three-year period, availability of the bass part book would have increased demand for the solo part book, and Marais may have taken the opportunity to make alterations to the plates. Variants between the early and late state of the engraved plates for Book 1 demonstrate more than anything the composer’s careful approach to sonority on the viol and his concern with prescriptive indications for ornamentation and bowing. Few of them represent actual corrections; rather, marks that Marais added often designate a fingering choice that otherwise would have been ambiguous, or he adds an ornament, slur, or tenue mark. Of the total of 83 solo viol pieces in Book 1, all but seven of them underwent some alteration. There is a great variety in the type and number of changes per movement. One senses the viol teacher Marais offering his students the wisdom of his technical expertise on the instrument. For modern players, the variants that represent the later state of the engraved plates offer not only the composer’s latest thoughts but also the text that is most instructive; for these reasons, Hsu wisely chose that version as the basis for the scholarly edition. Manuscript sources Because of the frequency with which Marais’s pieces for viol were copied into manuscripts during the eighteenth century, it is apparent that his compositions became widely known and were transcribed and arranged for various instruments. Most of the manuscripts that were used by amateur and professional musicians contain only a few works by Marais that were entered alongside those of other viol composers such as Louis de Caix d’Hervelois and Antoine Forqueray. In most cases, pieces attributed to Marais in manuscript sources were copied at sufficiently  Marais, Instrumental Works, vol. 1, “Variants,” pp. 174–84.

40

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late dates to suggest that they derive from his printed works. These manuscript sources help us to understand how players used Marais’s music, but because they usually do not originate from the composer himself, or from individuals who can demonstrably be connected with him, in most cases they are not considered to be authoritative sources. However, there is one major manuscript source that deserves special mention both for its early date and the possibility that it bears a direct connection with Marais. The manuscript of Marais’s works that belongs to the Panmure Collection in the National Library of Scotland is important for several reasons. Not only does it represent the largest single manuscript source of Marais’s viol music, but it also preserves works (or versions of works) by him that are otherwise unknown. The Panmure manuscripts contain 71 pieces and 12 doubles by Marais. Dating of the manuscripts that contain music by Marais bears great importance in relation to our understanding of his career and devotion to the viol. From the evidence that has been adduced thus far, it appears likely that the Panmure manuscripts contain his earliest extant works for the viol. The manuscripts in the Panmure Collection total thirty volumes in all, ten of which comprise French music, including works by Lully, Sainte-Colombe, and Marais.41 The three volumes (MSS 9465–7) within the Panmure Collection that are devoted to Marais’s music were compiled by James Maule (1658–1723) and his brother Harie (1659–1734), sons of Patrick Maule, the second Earl of Panmure and Lady Jean Campbell.42 Patrick Cadell and Stuart Cheney have proposed that the three manuscripts that contain works by Marais bear a direct connection to the composer. The two brothers travelled to France in the late 1670s and early 1680s, attended concerts there, and are presumed to have furthered their studies on the bass viol. Evidence of the music collected in the manuscripts they owned suggests that they came in contact with, and perhaps studied with Sainte-Colombe or Marin Marais, or both of them. One of the Panmure manuscripts contains a significant group of otherwise unknown solo pieces by Sainte-Colombe.43 This hypothesis is 41

 The principal studies of the works by Marais in the Panmure Collection have been carried out by Margaret Urquhart, “Style and Technique in the Pièces de viole of Marin Marais,” unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Edinburgh, 1970; Patrick Cadell, “La musique française classique dans la collection des comtes de Panmure,” Recherches sur la musique française classique 22 (1984): 50–58; John Hsu, ed., Marin Marais: The Instrumental Music, vol. 7 (New York, 2002), “Unpublished Pieces from the Panmure Manuscripts,” pp. xv–xvi; and Stuart Cheney, “Early Autograph Manuscripts of Marin Marais,” Early Music 38 (February, 2010): 59–72. I am grateful to Professor Cheney for providing me with a prepublication copy of his article and for explaining his methodology to me. 42   On the history of the Maule family and a catalogue of music and books in the Panmure Collection (some of which are now lost), see Patrick Cadell, “French Music in the Collection of the Earls of Panmure,” in Defining Strains: The Musical Life of Scots in the Seventeenth Century, ed. James Porter (Oxford, 2007), pp. 127–37. 43   See Jean (?) de Sainte-Colombe, Recueil de Pièces pour basse de viole seule (ca 1680), facsimile edition, introduction by François-Pierre Goy (Geneva, 2003).

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supported by the manuscripts (MSS 9468–9) of that composer’s works that also form part of the Panmure Collection.44 Harie Maule’s signature appears in a bass part book to another manuscript in the same collection (MS 9457) which contains music by Simpson and Jenkins. His brother James was responsible for collecting works by Lully that are now in the Panmure Collection, including violin parts for these works, but, as Stuart Cheney has noted, James (like his brother Harie) also played the viol. It appears likely that both brothers probably played the violin as well as the bass viol and that MS 9465 was copied from MS 9466 so that each of the brothers would have the same set of pieces.45 Although a precise date for the Marais works within the Panmure manuscripts is not known, it appears fairly certain that they contain works (or versions of works) that predate his published music. A compilation date for the three Panmure manuscripts that contain pieces by Marais of between 1677 and 1685 was proposed, and evidence from watermarks further narrowed the period to the years 1678 and 1684 (the year that Harie left France).46 On the basis of comparison with the handwriting in a holograph testament by Marais dated June 8, 1709, Stuart Cheney has proposed that two of the three manuscripts (MS 9466 and 9467) are in Marais’s hand.47 If this is the case, then Marais may have presented them to Harie Maule. Whether or not the authoritative state of these manuscripts is accepted,48 the two manuscripts (MSS 9466 and 9467) remain unique and are extremely important documents that preserve works composed by Marais that predate his first printed book of viol music. Forty-four pieces as well as 12 couplets for the folies are unique to the Panmure manuscripts. In all, the 71 pieces and 12 doubles represented there comprise Marais’s earliest extant works for viol. Of the three manuscripts that contain works by Marais (MSS 9465–7), the first two are nearly identical, but the 59 pieces within them are presented in a slightly different order.49 The third manuscript (MS 9467) is the most important of the three, since it preserves 44 pieces by Marais not otherwise known, as well as the extra 12 couplets for the Folies d’Espagne. Of the total of 82 pieces in the three 44

  Paul Hooreman identified 13 pieces as works by Sainte-Colombe and included them as an appendix. See Sainte-Colombe, Concerts a deux violes esgales du sieur de Sainte-Colombe, ed. Paul Hooreman (Paris, 1983), pp. 224–9. Hooreman refers to the two manuscripts from which these pieces come as Panmure MSS 6 and 17; their present shelf numbers are MSS 9468 and 9469. 45   This suggestion was made by François-Pierre Goy, [Jean ?] de Sainte-Colombe, Receuil de Pièces pour basse de viole, p. 38. See also Cheney, “Early Autograph Manuscripts of Marin Marais,” p. 66. 46   Cheney, “Early Autograph Manuscripts,” pp. 60 and 66. 47   Ibid., especially Table 3, p. 65. 48   Hsu challenges Cheney’s findings on the basis that no sample of Marais’s musical hand survives. See Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 7, p. xv. 49   For a collated list of the contents of both manuscripts, see Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 7, pp. 151–2.

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manuscripts and 29 couplets for the folies, 37 pieces were published in Marais’s first two books of viol music, and one piece was published in his third book. Of the 29 folies variations, 17 were printed in his second book. It appears from evidence preserved in the Panmure manuscripts that Marais frequently returned to works he had composed earlier in order to fill the needs of his subsequent viol prints. The works in the Panmure manuscripts as currently preserved do not include a basse continue part, and it is not known whether they are intended to be unaccompanied works or whether the basse continue part is lost. The title of one piece by Marais, Prélude pour la viole et le théorbe, suggests that it was intended to be accompanied.50 Rests at the beginnings of some movements (e.g. Prelude, MS 9466, fol. 34v–35r)51 also suggest that a second part is lacking, at least for certain pieces, but there are also pieces that have enough double stops and chords supporting the melody that they appear to work as unaccompanied pieces. For example, the three movements in C major (Allemande-Sarabande-Courante) from MS 9466, fols 46’–47’, are harmonically satisfying when played unaccompanied and seem to lack nothing as unaccompanied solos.52 Three Marais chaconnes are unique to the Panmure manuscripts. Of these three, the long and varied Grande Chaconne (MS 9466, fols 29’–34r) in G major is particularly outstanding.53 Its eight-measure pattern consisting of two four-measure phrases and a stepwise melody, lightly supported by implied tonic and dominant harmonies, is repeated and embellished with rapid division-type ornamentation as well as double stops and dissonances, especially the flattened seventh degree. At 272 measures, this movement stands out as an unusual and challenging chaconne whose demands on the player seem almost to present a compendium of challenges. Musically it is also one of the most appealing in Marais’s entire oeuvre. The Grande Prélude in A major (MS 9467, fols 15’–17’) is also an extraordinary work.54 At 129 measures, it extends well beyond the normal length of Marais’s published preludes. The movement is composed in two large sections, with a brief opening section marked lentement, followed by a lengthy triple-meter one in which the eighth- and sixteenth-note motion suggests a moderately quick tempo (an actual tempo mark is not indicated). The piece also calls for some unusual techniques, such as passages in double stops above the frets (mm. 43–47), use of the plainte (fourth finger vibrato) on very low notes and on double stops (mm. 79 and 106), and scalewise passages descending to low A′ (mm. 62–3). In this case, it appears likely that a basse continue part may be lacking, given the occasional passages in quarter notes that pause on a dissonance and seem to imply motion from a bass line not present. The Panmure manuscripts add immeasurably to our 50   MS 9467, retro 2v–3r. Modern edition in Marais, The Instrumental Works, vol. 7, no. 38, p. 131. 51   Modern edition in Marais, The Instrumental Works, no. 14, pp. 98–9. 52   Modern edition in ibid., nos. 22–4, pp. 108–9. 53   Modern edition in ibid., no. 13, pp. 94–8. 54   Modern edition in ibid., no. 33, pp. 126–8.

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knowledge of Marais’s early compositions and his friendship with the Maule brothers, two contemporary viol players who also very likely received lessons from Marais.55 Apart from the unpublished works by Marais that appear in the Panmure Collection, only two other individual movements have thus far been identified as otherwise unpublished works by Marais. Both of these movements are sarabandes that, like the Panmure pieces, appear to be early works, and the circumstances of their preservation add to our knowledge of how Marais’s music circulated and who appears to have taken an interest in it. A sarabande in F attributed to Marais is found in a bound collection of manuscript music in the hand of Philip Falle (1656–1742) that is held at Durham Cathedral Library (MS A. 27).56 Falle was apparently a pupil of Narcissus Marsh, from whom he learned to play the viol as a young boy in Oxford at Exeter College. Falle later became Archbishop of Dublin and maintained an interest in playing the viol and in hosting weekly musical performances. After graduating from Oxford in 1676, he trained for the priesthood in Chichester and also traveled to France prior to settling in Trinity in 1681. He returned to France again in 1698 as part of the embassy to the French royal court that resided there for six months. It was probably during this visit that Falle sought out Marin Marais, who was employed as violist at the French court, and brought back copies of some of Marais’s solo viol and chamber music.57 Falle continued to travel to France and other centers on the Continent until 1707, adding to his collection of English, French, and Dutch vocal and instrumental music. He presented his “music books” to the Cathedral Library at Durham in 1722. The section of MS A. 27 containing viol music includes 39 dance movements by Marais, nearly all of which were copied from Marais’s first and second books. The sarabande in F attributed to Marais on p. 121 of the manuscript (see Figure 9.1 and Example 9.3) is otherwise unknown and does not appear in any of Marais’s printed collections. Other French composers represented in the manuscript include “Mr de Ste Colombe le Fils,” and “Mr. Doubisson.” The manuscript also contains a large number of pieces by Schenck, Hacquart, Snep, and Christopher Simpson. A catalogue of Falle’s music collection in his own hand survives within the collection.58

55

  Cheney, “Early Autograph Manuscripts,” p. 67.   See Margaret Urquhart, “Prebendary Philip Falle (1656–1742) and the Durham Bass Viol Manuscript A. 27,” Chelys 5 (1973–1974): 7–20. Urquhart identifies the Sarabande in F attributed to Marais as an otherwise unknown work by him (p. 18). 57   Further on the life and career of Philip Falle, see Urquhart, “Prebendary Philip Falle,” p. 11. According to Urquhart, Falle brought back copies of Marais’s Pièces de violes, Livre I (1686) and its basse continue part book (1689), as well as Marais’s Pièces en trio (1692). 58   The full list is included in Urquhart, “Prebendary Philip Falle,” pp. 15–21. The catalogue appears in section I, p. 786 of the manuscript (A. 27), Durham Cathedral Library. 56

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Figure 9.1

Marin Marais, Sarabande in F major for (unaccompanied?) viol. Source: Mus. MS A. 27, Durham Cathedral. By kind permission of Durham Cathedral

Example 9.3 Marin Marais, transcription of Sarabande in F major. Source: Mus. MS A. 27, Durham Cathedral. By kind permission of Durham Cathedral

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The other unpublished manuscript piece by Marais is a sarabande in G major that survives in a version for harpsichord transcribed by Jean Henri D’Anglebert. The Marais transcription was entered by D’Anglebert alongside transcriptions of Lully’s works in a manuscript that now resides in the Bibliothèque nationale de France (Paris) with the shelf number Rés. 89ter, on fols 82v–83r.59 Douglas Maple has observed that the Lully works in this manuscript fall within the period between 1660 and 1677; on that basis, and with reference to specific details he deduced about the compilation of the manuscript, Maple assigns the Marais piece to the latter part of this period, between 1675 and 1677. Maple notes that the characteristics of the handwriting and ink further suggest that the petite reprise for this work was a later addition, since it is in black ink, and that certain other details were worked out by D’Anglebert as the piece was entered into the manuscript, whereas the sarabande itself is in brown ink that is similar to that of other works around it.60 The double stops and chords in the right hand of the harpsichord part suit the viol well and are playable very much as they appear, which suggests that the transcription very likely represents the piece in its original key. Marais’s Music as Interpreted by an Eighteenth-Century Viol Player Still another image of how Marais’s teaching influenced other viol players emerges from examination of a source that almost certainly originates outside of his influence. This source provides external evidence of how Marais’s music may have served as a guide or teaching tool for eighteenth-century players or teachers. The document is a printed copy of Marais’s Book 2 that belongs to the Sibley Music Library at the Eastman School of Music (shelf mark vault M286 M299.2). It bears copious manuscript annotations that designate additional bowings, ornamentation, and dynamic nuances in a small, neat hand, most likely that of an eighteenth-century viol player. The fact that the performance annotations are found for the most part on the more technically challenging pieces within the collection suggests that they derive from an (unidentified) advanced player or teacher of the instrument. An owner’s signature is entered sideways on the first page of the avertissement (“Ex libris Armandi # josephi Del[isle?]”), but differences in ink color between this signature and the annotations on the music suggest that this owner probably did not enter the annotations in the music. Manuscript annotations and abbreviations in a single hand have been entered on 22 of the 142 pieces in this volume. As Sarah Cunningham has observed,   See Jean Henry D’Anglebert, The Collected Works, ed. C. David Harris (New York, 2009); the sarabande appears in vol. 1, p. 198, and the critical notes in vol. 2, p. 190. 60   Douglas Maple, “D’Anglebert’s Autograph Manuscript, Paris, B.N. Rés. 89ter, an Examination of Compositional, Editorial, and Notational Processes in 17th-Century French Harpsichord Music,” PhD dissertation, University of Chicago, 1988, pp. 57–60 and, on dating of Marais’s sarabande, pp. 92–4. 59

Figure 9.2

Marin Marais, Chaconne en rondeau from Book 2 (1701), for viol and basse continue. Source: Copy with manuscript annotations, by kind permission of the Sibley Music Library, Eastman School of Music, University of Rochester, New York

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these marks show articulations, bow strokes, ornaments, and other additions that demonstrate how Marais’s marks were interpreted, and they even augment his marks in some cases. Cunningham offers guidance as to how the abbreviations and other manuscript annotations in this copy of the print may be interpreted. From the six movements that Cunningham studied in detail,61 a few general observations can be drawn. The marks were entered primarily on pieces that are technically challenging, and the marks direct the player to add a variety of nuances that go beyond Marais’s printed indications. In all, Cunningham demonstrates 30 different marks and words (or abbreviations) that appear as manuscript additions; she divides them into seven categories. They include, for example, signs that show different kinds of accents, détaché, legato, different manners of playing chords, rhythmic alterations, and a few miscellaneous indications not otherwise classifiable. The marks demonstrate an astonishing variety of nuances. The Chaconne en rondeau no. 82 (Book 2, pp. 89–90; see Figure 9.2) in G major demonstrates several of these nuances and articulation marks, such as the tenue as preparation for chords (mm. 1–2, marked on two notes simultaneously with a straight line with square corners), pointez (indicating inequality in system 4 after the double bar), jet[té] (preparing the bow hand for a wide leap, as in system 3, m. 1), and lour[é] (a sustained sonority, as in system 6, mm. 1 and 3). Marais’s printed music includes occasional tenue marks, but the manuscript annotations in this movement suggest that players used tenues much more often than the printed marks would suggest. The tenue has been added at least six times in manuscript on this page, demonstrating the importance of holding down notes for greater sonority and clarity of voice-leading. Concluding Remarks Scholars such as Lionel de La Laurencie and Michel Brenet have noted Marais’s historical importance and his exceptional achievements as a composer since the early twentieth century. More recently, the 250th anniversary of Marais’s death in 1978 offered scholars an opportunity to evaluate his music and extraordinary gifts as a viol player. By the 1970s, recordings of his viol music had also begun to bring his music to the attention of early music enthusiasts.62 The recent monograph by Milliot and La Gorce added considerably to our knowledge of Marais’s career as an opera conductor and his many important contributions in the fields of opera and instrumental music. Also significant has been a scholarly edition edited by John Hsu that made the music readily available to players and has for the first time offered an opportunity to study the composer’s alterations and changes to his 61   Allemande 24 and Courante 25 in D minor, Les voix humaines 63 in D major, Prelude 65 in G, Allemande 98 in E minor, and Boutade 127 in A major. 62   Further on the modern rediscovery of Marais’s music, see Julie Anne Vertrees Sadie, “Marin Marais and his Contemporaries,” p. 672.

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music made during production of the prints. Marais’s solo and chamber works for the viol—well over 600 pieces surviving in manuscripts and prints—constitute the largest contribution to the repertory by a single French composer, and their variety, diversity, and attractiveness offer players a unique opportunity to study his contributions as a composer, performer, and—by inference at least—teacher. In his pursuit of a high level of skill at viol playing, Marais continued to build upon the tenets of the French school of viol playing established by Le Sieur de Sainte-Colombe ( fl. 1657–1687). Évrard Titon du Tillet cast a commemorative medallion of Marais63—one of only six musicians honored in that way—and he praised Marais’s viol playing as his greatest achievement. Titon writes: One can say that Marais has taken the viol to its highest degree of perfection, and that he is the first who has made its full range and beauty known by the great number of excellent pieces he has composed on the instrument, and by the admirable manner with which he played them. (On peut dire que Marais a porté la Viole à son plus haut degré de perfection, & qu’il est le premier qui en a fait connoître toute l’étendu & toute la beauté par la grande nombre d’excellentes Pieces qu’il a composées sur cet Instrument, & par la maniere admirable dont il les exécutoit.)64

Marais was also duly recognized during his lifetime for the success of his operas, but these works as well as his contributions as a viol teacher have received less attention in modern times. Not only did these teachings continue to promote the viol for the succeeding generation of French viol players, but they are also regarded today as the foundation of modern viol playing for French solo music of the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.

63   The other musicians were Lully, Jacquet de La Guerre, Lalande, Campra, and Destouches. Further on accounts of musicians in Le parnasse françois, see Julie Anne Sadie, “Parnassus Revisited: The Musical Vantage Point of Titon du Tillet,” in John Hajdu Heyer, Jean-Baptiste Lully and the Music of the French Baroque (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 131–57 and Adrian Rose, “Lalande and the médaillons des musiciens of Titon du Tillet’s Parnasse françois,” The Consort 66 (2010): 60–61. 64   Titon du Tillet, Le parnasse françois, p. 624.

Chapter 10

Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre’s Violin Sonatas: What the Sources Do (and Do Not) Tell Us Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre (1665–1729) is remembered today as an outstanding harpsichordist and also as composer of two books of solo harpsichord music that were published during her lifetime. Only since the 1990s have her sacred and secular cantatas also become well known through recordings and performances. The works she composed in other genres remain less well known today.1 These include her tragédie, Cephale et Procris, performed at the the Paris Opéra in 1694, and her instrumental works, only a portion of which were published during her lifetime. Jacquet de La Guerre probably began composing sonatas in the 1690s, at a time when the sonata and Italian violinists were becoming increasingly popular in Paris. Sébastien de Brossard reported on his visit to Paris in 1695 that “all the composers there, especially the organists, had at that time a fury for composing sonatas in the Italian style” (tous les compositeurs de Paris, surtout les organistes, avoient en ce tems la, pour ainsi dire, la fureur de composer des sonates a la maniere italienne).2 Jacquet de La Guerre was one of these early adopters of the new genre, and her sonatas are attractive, forward-looking works that are worthy of more attention.3 1   A new scholarly edition of Jacquet de La Guerre’s music is currently in progress (Élisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre: The Collected Works, New York, 2005–), and four volumes comprising her keyboard works, sonatas, cantatas, and airs have appeared to date. The present chapter draws upon my previous research for that edition, specifically the introduction to volume 2 (the sonatas) and the biographical essay on the composer’s life and music in volume 1. I have added new material here on performance indications. I am grateful for many helpful suggestions offered by Ronald Broude and Ellen S. Beebe (The Broude Trust for for the Publication of Musicological Editions) and for permission to present the results of that research in the present composer profile. 2   Sébastien de Brossard, Catalogue des livres de musique théoretique et pratique … qui sont dans le cabinet du Sr. Sébastien de Brossard … en l’année [1724], MS, p. 544, Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Vm8 21. 3   One of several noteworthy recordings of Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas for one and two violins and basse continue is Elisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, Sonates pour le Viollon 1707, played by Ingrid Matthews (baroque violin), Byron Schenkman (harpsichord), and Margriet Tindemans (viola da gamba), Wildboar 9601 (1996). It features all six sonatas from the 1707 collection as well as a few harpsichord pieces by Jacquet de La Guerre.

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The circumstances surrounding the preservation of Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas probably contribute to their relative obscurity today. Whereas Jacquet de La Guerre’s harpsichord music and cantatas were published in several collections during her lifetime, only six out of a total of twelve sonatas for one and two violins and basse continue attributed to her were published during the eighteenth century. The six printed sonatas, all for solo violin and basse continue, were published together with her second collection of harpsichord music in 1707. The remaining six sonatas—four of which are for two violins with basse continue, and two of which are for solo violin with basse continue—are preserved only in manuscript copies (score and parts) that belonged to Sébastien de Brossard’s library (presently part of the Département de musique, Bibliothèque nationale de France).4 Apart from adding considerably to the number of surviving compositions by Jacquet de La Guerre, the manuscript sources document her early essays in the genre and are also attractive works, but the circumstances of their preservation present some challenges to performing them. In this composer profile, I explore some of these challenges and how they can be addressed. A brief biographical sketch provides a context for closer examination of the sources and performance issues within them. Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre: a Brief Biography Born into a musical family, Élisabeth Jacquet learned to play the harpsichord and organ from her father, who was organist at the church of Saint-Louis on the Isle Notre Dame (now the île Saint-Louis). Her accomplished playing was considered unusual enough to be noticed by Louis XIV after a performance she gave at court, and she also spent a period of several years under the protection of the Marquise de Montespan (Françoise-Athénaïs de Rochechouart, 1640–1707).5 She later acknowledged the king’s support and encouragement by dedicating her first published book of harpsichord pieces to him in 1687. Following her marriage to Marin de La Guerre (1658–1794) on September 23, 1684, Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre settled in Paris, where her husband was organist at Saint-Louis-des-Jesuites. It was there that she probably became acquainted with Italian music and performers. Among the events that likely would have attracted her interest were the weekly concerts of instrumental and sacred vocal music by Italian composers hosted by the abbé Mathieu (d. 1706) in the The solo violin incorporates both extempore Italian ornamentation and stylish French ornaments. 4   For shelf numbers, see the more detailed description below under Manuscript sources. 5   Jacquet’s age at the time of her performance at court and her subsequent period of residence there have been reported differently by eighteenth-century writers. Further on her early musical training and performances, see Mary Cyr, “Elisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre: Myth or Marvel? Seeking the Composer’s Individuality,” The Musical Times 149 (Winter, 2008): 79–87.

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presbytery of his parish at Saint-André-des-Arts.6 According to a later report by Michel Corrette, Corelli’s trios were first performed at the abbé Mathieu’s concerts, and these events were the inspiration for French composers to begin composing in the new genre.7 Few of Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre’s own performances are documented, but we know that she continued to compose works in several genres—harpsichord solos, chamber music, and cantatas—many of which she eventually published. Of her few works that survive in manuscript, the sonatas for one and two violins and basse continue number among the earliest works in that genre in France. Credit for the earliest sonata by a French composer appears to belong to Marc-André Charpentier, whose sonata for eight instruments (two flutes, two violins, bass viol, cello, harpsichord, and theorbo) may have been written as early as 1686.8 Charpentier’s composition may have been known primarily within the household of the Duchesse de Guise, where his music was often performed. Whether Jacquet de La Guerre heard Charpentier’s work is not known, but, because her sister Anne Jacquet was employed as a musician in that household, it is at least possible. Other prominent musicians with whom Jacquet de La Guerre may have been associated include François Couperin, who was a relative of her husband, Marin de La Guerre.9 Couperin was certainly exploring the new genre with enthusiasm in the 1690s. Jacquet de La Guerre’s use of the word tocade (the French form of the Italian toccata) as the title of one of the pieces from her 1687 collection (Les piéces de Claueßin, pp. 59–63) may suggest a link with Couperin, who incorporated several Italian words in French forms (such as sonade, cantade, ballade, sérénade) in his own compositions.10 6

On the concerts hosted by the abbé Mathieu, see Michel Le Moël, “Un foyer d’italianisme à la fin du XVIIe siècle: Nicolas Mathieu, curé de Saint-André-des-Arts,” Recherches sur la musique française classique 3 (1963): 43–8, and Jean Duron, “Aspects de la présence italienne dans la musique française de la fin du XVIIe siècle,” in Le concert des muses, ed. Jean Lionnet (Versailles, 1997), pp. 107–8. Duron also investigates the presence of Italian musicians in Paris and which French musicians studied in Italy. 7 Michel Corrette, Le maitre de clavecin pour l’accompagnement, methode theorique et pratique (Paris, 1753), p. 1. 8 Julie Anne Sadie, “Charpentier and the Early French Ensemble Sonata,” Early Music 7 (July, 1979): 331. The sonata is preserved in Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France (Vm7 4813). 9 François Couperin was related to Marin de La Guerre’s paternal grandfather. Further on the descendants and precise family relationship, see Catherine Cessac, Élisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre: une femme compositeur sous le règne de Louis XIV (Arles, 1995), pp. 31–2. See also Catherine Cessac, “Les La Guerre: une dynastie d’organistes à la SainteChapelle de 1633 à 1739,” in Histoire, humanisme et hymnologie: mélanges offerts au Professeur Édith Weber, ed. Pierre Guillot and Louis Jambou (Paris, 1997), p. 77. 10 As recent research by Edward Corp has shown, Couperin’s sonatas were very likely written and performed for the exiled Stuart court at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. Performances there helped to spread the popularity of Italian music in Paris during the late seventeenth

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Jacquet de La Guerre was one of the first French composers to write sonatas for one and two violins with basse continue, but her collection of sonatas was not the first to be published in France. That credit goes to François Duval (Premier livre, 1704), who was the first composer to obtain a privilege to publish sonatas in France.11 Pierre-Louis Daquin de Châteaulyon credits Duval with being the first French violinist to compose in the Italian style.12 His Premier livre de sonates et autres pièces pour le violon et la basse (Paris, 1704) contains both suites and sonatas. This work was followed closely by Jean-François Dandrieu’s Livre de Sonates en trio, premier œuvre (1705). By 1707, when Jacquet de La Guerre published her collection of violin sonatas, the solo sonata had displaced the popularity of the sonata for two treble instruments. Jacquet de La Guerre’s Association with Sébastien de Brossard It is not known precisely when Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre and Sébastien de Brossard met. Their friendship could have begun soon after Élisabeth and Marin de La Guerre settled in Paris in 1684. Brossard spent several years there from 1678 until 1687, and he could have met Jacquet de La Guerre toward the end of that period.13 If not then, Brossard certainly would have made her acquaintance during his stay in Paris during Lent in 1695,14 after which he returned to Strasbourg in the autumn of the same year. During this latter period, Brossard took a serious interest in Italian music and collected examples of both Italian and French sonatas for his library. Jacquet de La Guerre and Brossard must have shared similar views and admiration for the vivacity and harmonic boldness of the Italian sonata, for he entered a comment in his Catalogue des livres de musique that he felt fortunate to have borrowed four sonatas from Jacquet de La Guerre for two violins and basse century, and the support lent by the Stuart court may have inspired Couperin to begin writing sonatas in the 1690s. See Eveline Cruickshanks and Edward Corp, eds, The Stuart Court in Exile and the Jacobites (London, 1995), p. xv. See also Edward Corp, “François Couperin and the Stuart Court at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, 1691–1712,” Early Music 28 (August, 2000): 445–53. 11   Louis Heudelinne also used the term sonate in print for a single work in D major in his Trois suites de pieces a deux violles qui se peuvent joüer sur le clavessin & sur le violon (Paris, 1701), pp. 28–33. In this work, the treble viol (dessus de viole) performs the solo part. 12   [Pierre-Louis] Daquin de Châteaulyon, Siecle litteraire de Louis XV, ou lettres sur les hommes celebres (Amsterdam, 1754), vol. 1, p. 129. 13   Catherine Cessac, “Les relations musicales d’Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre et de Sébastien de Brossard,” in Sébastien de Brossard, musicien, ed. Jean Duron, Colloque international “Sébastien de Brossard,” organized by the Centre de Musique Baroque de Versailles, June 1995 (Langres, 1998), p. 44, fn. 6. 14   Ibid., p. 44.

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continue in order to have them copied for his collection.15 In addition to Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas, Brossard also added other French and Italian sonatas to his library at that time, including four sonatas by François Couperin and Corelli’s opus 3. He also acquired the aforementioned ensemble sonata by Marc-Antoine Charpentier.16 That Brossard preserved so many examples of sonatas by French composers has contributed greatly to our knowledge of the genre in France during the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries. Sources for Jacquet de La Guerre’s Sonatas Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas for one and two violins are preserved in manuscript and printed sources. The earlier sources are the two manuscripts from Brossard’s library: a score that transmits four sonatas for two treble instruments and basse continue, and a set of four part books that preserves two sonatas for solo violin and basse continue and the four sonatas for two treble instruments (here designated as violins with separate parts for violoncello and organ) that are also found in the manuscript score. Differences in detail as well as ordering of the sonatas for two treble instruments in these two sources suggest that neither is derived from the other.17 Manuscript sources The manuscript score, which is copied in small, neat handwriting (possibly that of a professional copyist), bears the title Sonnatta della signora de la guerre in the same hand as the music. A second hand (probably that of Brossard) added occasional corrections and tempo indications in the music, and a few marks were also entered by a third, unidentified hand. In these annotations, both French and 15   “Partitions de quatre Sonates manuscrites à deux violons, une basse de Violle, ou de Violon ou un Basson quelquefois nécessaire et une Basse Continue de la composition de la célèbre Mademoiselle Jacque [sic] … Elle me fit la grâce de m’en prester les originaux l’an 1695 pour les faire copier; Elles sont délicieuses, et si l’on en veut avoir la preuve, outre les Partitions, on en trouvera les quatre Parties séparées dans le même Carton.” Brossard, Catalogue des livres de musique, p. 544. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Vm7 1110 (score) and Vm7 1111 and Vm7 1111a–b (parts). 16   Sadie, “Charpentier and the Early French Ensemble Sonata,” p. 332. 17   For further description of the sources for Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas, see Elisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2: Instrumental Works, ed. Mary Cyr (New York, 2008), “Critical Apparatus: Sources,” pp. 241–6. For additional discussion of the manuscript sources, see also Carol Henry Bates, “Elizabeth Jacquet de la Guerre’s Trio Sonatas: An Analysis and Appraisal,” in Essays in Honor of Hans Tischler, ed. David Halperin, Orbis Musicae 12 (1996): 26–48, and, by the same author, “The Early French Sonata for Solo Instruments: A Study in Diversity,” Recherches sur la musique française classique 27 (1991–92): 71–98.

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Italian terms are found. The four manuscript parts (Violon I and II, Viola da gamba/ Violoncello, and Organo) are in Brossard’s hand. The violoncello part from this set is incomplete. Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas from manuscript sources are remarkably diverse in formal structure, and one can hear evidence of experimentation in them, as for example in some of the almost excessively long points of imitation in certain fast sections. Marks such as double bars, accidentals, ornamentation, and tempo indications in the manuscript sources may not necessarily originate with the composer herself, but, in the state that they are preserved, these sonatas appear to be sectional works with many of the sections flowing directly from one to another without a double bar. There are also large sections that appear to function as independent movements following a full cadence and double bar. Each sonata begins with a movement or passage marked grave, and each sonata features at least one movement of exceptional length. Shifts between major and minor modes are frequent, and some sections begin and end in different keys. Two of the sonatas end with a fast section; the other four sonatas conclude with either an Adagio or an Aria. The sonatas incorporate some binary movements whose character is French, such as the sarabande and gavotte in Sonata IIa in A minor,18 but in other ways these sonatas seem to explore a variety of Italian idioms that must have sounded new to French audiences at the time they were written. Example 10.1 Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, Sonata IIa in A minor for violin and basse continue. Source: Elisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2: Instrumental Works, ed. Mary Cyr (New York: The Broude Trust, 2008). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions

  Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2, pp. 102–103.

18

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In addition to the extended imitative writing already mentioned, the manuscript sonatas feature rapid repeated-note and broken-chord figuration, syncopations, occasional dynamic marks (forte and piano), and dissonances (seventh and ninth chords especially), often in sequences. There is little evidence of virtuosic display, and they bear only a few indications for articulation or ornaments. A passage in Sonata IIa that contains double stops for the violin (Example 10.1) is unusual in the early French sonata literature and appears to show Jacquet de La Guerre’s interest in exploring string sonority. Printed sources Jacquet de La Guerre’s 1707 collection consists of a compound publication whose two sections are numbered continuously throughout. The first 26 pages consist of two suites for solo harpsichord, and pages 27 through 80 contain six sonatas for violin and basse continue. The volume was printed from plates engraved by Henri de Baussen, an established engraver and publisher who had already engraved the plates for her first book of harpsichord pieces in 1687. Baussen held the position of “musician in ordinary” in the musical household of Mlle de Guise.19 The harpsichord pieces from the 1707 collection continued to be sold well after they were published. They still appeared in the catalogue of the publisher Leclerc in December, 1734.20 The two collections in the 1707 print were sold both as a unit and separately, as the prices on the compound title page indicate, but each of the two collections also has its own title page.21 Press announcements in the Mercure galant and the Journal des sçavans report that these works were greeted with enthusiasm. The Mercure galant notes that both 1707 prints were “much esteemed” (fort estimez), that they had charmed the audience when they were performed for the king, and that and that they received royal favor because of their originality.22 A much briefer report 19

  Patricia Ranum, “A Sweet Servitude: A Musician’s Life at the Court of Mlle de Guise,” Early Music 15 (August, 1987): 351. 20   Anik Devriès, Édition et commerce de la musique gravée à Paris dans la première moitié du XVIIIe siècle, Les Boivin, Les Leclerc (Geneva, 1976), pp. 87–8 and 201. 21   For a detailed description of the 1707 print, see Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 1, “Sources,” pp. 105–107, and vol. 2, “Sources,” pp. 239–42. 22   The entry in the Mercure galant mentions the dedication of these works to Louis XIV and that the two Marchands played them at court. As Marcelle Benoit has noted, the two Marchands who performed La Guerre’s music may have been the brothers Jean-Baptiste (1670–1751)—who was a violinist, lutenist, and organiste du roi—and Jean-Noël (1666– 1710), a violinist and lutenist. See Marcel Benoit, “Une dynastie de musiciens versaillais: les Marchand,” Recherches sur la musique française classique 1 (1960): 114. See also the Mercure galant “dedié a Monseigneur le dauphin,” August, 1707. À Paris, Chez Michel Brunet, Grande Salle du Palais au Mercure galant, p. 195: “Ces deux ouvrages, ainsi que tous les autres que Mlle de la Guerre a mis au jour, sont dediez au Roy. On trouve beaucoup d’esprit & de delicatesse dans l’Epître dedicatoire. Cette Demoiselle, presentée par Mr

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in the Journal des sçavans also reports a positive reception for the “tenderness, fire, beautiful harmony, and naturalness” (la tendresse, beaucoup de feu, une belle harmonie, un très-heureux naturel) of the works.23 With the exception of the Aria in Sonata 5 from the 1707 print, which is a recasting of the Aria affettuoso from her earlier Sonata Ia in A minor,24 the pieces in the later collection are new, and the description of them in the Mercure galant as “original” seems appropriate within the context of Jacquet de La Guerre’s other works and the French sonata in general. The 1707 sonatas are in general more tightly constructed than her earlier sonatas, but they are also more varied in length. They range from only 170 measures (Sonata 5) to an extraordinary 439 measures (Sonata 1). The other sonatas fall between these two extremes. The 1707 sonatas consist of four to eight sections, and only Sonatas 5 and 6 contain dance movements (a courante and an allemande respectively). There are some passages of obbligato writing in the basse continue part, and Sonata 4 specifically mentions violle as the obbligato instrument (m. 147). Tempo marks such as Presto or Adagio are more frequently employed than in her earlier sonatas, although some sections have no tempo designation at all; four of the sonatas begin without tempo designation. Binary form is used with greater frequency in the 1707 sonatas than in her earlier sonatas from manuscript sources. Like other French composers who published violin sonatas during the first decade of the eighteenth century, Jacquet de La Guerre retains the French practice of notating the violin part in treble clef on the first line (French violin clef). As Marc Pincherle has observed, French composers for violin made little use of the violin’s G string, apart from a few exceptional passages in François Duval’s works, and French violin clef was therefore a suitable choice.25 Closer to 1715, this clef was replaced by treble clef in violin sonatas by Huguenet and Francoeur le fils.26 Jacquet de La Guerre’s Sonata 5 from her 1707 book is unusual in that she chooses French violin clef only for the first movement and employs treble clef le Duc de Tresmes, ayant remercié Sa Majesté de la bonté avec laquelle elle avoit reçu à Marly, son livre de Pieces de Clavecin & de Sonnates; elle fit executer deux jours aprés ses Sonnates en presence de Sa Majesté à son petit couvert, & ce Prince les honnora d’une tresgrande attention. Les Sieurs Marchand, les joüerent parfaitement bien. Le dîné estant fini, Sa Majesté parla à Mlle de la Guerre, d’une maniere tres-obligeante, & aprés avoir donné beaucoup de loüanges à ses Sonnates, elle luy dit qu’elles ne ressembloient à rien. On ne pouvoit meiux loüer Mlle de la Guerre, puisque ces paroles sont connoistre que le Roy avoit non seulement trouvé sa Musique tres-belle; mais aussi qu’elle est originale, ce qui se trouve aujourd’huy fort rarement.” 23   Journal des sçavans (August 1, 1707), p. 496. 24   See Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2, earlier version in Sonata Ia in A minor, pp. 92–4 and later version in Sonata 5 in A minor (1707), pp. 58–61. 25   Marc Pincherle, La technique du violon chez les premiers sonatistes français (1695–1723) (Paris, 1911), pp. 13–14. 26  Ibid.

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Example 10.2 Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, Aria for violin and basse continue, (a) early version from Sonata Ia in A minor; (b) revised version from Sonata 5 in A minor (1707). Source: ÉlisabethClaude Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2 ed. Mary Cyr (New York: The Broude Trust, 2008). Reproduced by kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions (a)

(b)

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for the remainder of the sonata. The Adagio (mm. 66–73) even makes brief use of notes on the violin’s G string, which may explain the choice of clef. The Aria from the same sonata was recast from one of Jacquet de La Guerre’s earlier sonatas. It presents a haunting eight-measure tune whose symmetrical phrases each begin with a falling fifth. The melody is introduced as a refrain in rondeau fashion with intervening couplets; the final statement of the Aria appears in Example 10.2a at the midpoint of measure 232. In the 1707 version, most of the reworking takes place in the final couplet, where the figuration seems to flow more naturally into the final statement of the theme. In this version (Example 10.2b), Jacquet de La Guerre incorporates the viol in an obbligato role for the final statement of the refrain (beginning m. 177, beat 3), followed by a pedal on the dominant and a lengthy cadential phrase for the end of the sonata. Performing Jacquet de La Guerre’s Sonatas The physical state of preservation of Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas—in manuscript or printed sources—bears greatly on how confident players will be in making decisions about the composer’s intentions for performance of these works. We know that Jacquet de La Guerre supervised the production of the printed sources for her works, and the prints can therefore be seen as bearing the composer’s authority with regard to tempo marks, ornamentation, and other performance indications. In the 1707 violin sonatas, even the page layout appears to have been carefully considered, and blank pages were inserted in order to avoid page turns at inconvenient points.27 The interpretation of Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas offers performers certain challenges, many of which arise more from the sparseness of performance indications rather than from their meaning. In comparison with an abundance of such indications in her harpsichord music, there are relatively few marks for bowings, ornamentation, or articulation in her instrumental sonatas. When performing the sonatas preserved in manuscript sources, players can usefully incorporate certain practices from Jacquet de La Guerre’s 1707 sonatas. The following discussion presents examples of the type of performance indications found in the manuscript and printed sources, evaluates their relative authority, and offers suggestions for how they can be interpreted. Some guidance is also given for interpretive matters in cases where such marks are absent.

27   On the placement of blank leaves in the single and compound prints from 1707, see Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 2, the section entitled “Sources” in the Critical Apparatus, pp. 239–41.

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Instrumentation In both the printed and manuscript sources for Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas, there are relatively few indications for instrumentation. The most specific indications are found (not surprisingly) in the 1707 print, where the violin and harpsichord are specified on the title page of the second half of the collection. As for the presence of a bowed string instrument in addition to the harpsichord for the basse continue, there are a few passages that incorporate a separate staff for such an instrument, and occasionally such obbligato passages are specifically labeled “violle”, as for example in the Adagio (m. 147) of Sonata 4 in G major. Such passages also incorporate alto clef, which further suggests that they are intended for the viol. There are no indications whatsoever for instrumentation in the sonatas for two violins and basse continue preserved in the manuscript score, but, like the 1707 solo sonatas, the sonatas for two violins include a few obbligato passages in the basse continue that are also notated in alto clef.28 These features suggest that viol would be an appropriate instrument to double the keyboard for these works as well. The indications for instrumentation in the alternate versions of the sonatas for two violins, as preserved in the set of parts copied by Brossard, are more specific. The upper parts are labeled “violon”, and the basse continue bears the notation “Violoncello obligato con organo.” These indications were very likely added by Brossard. They represent a viable option for performance, but they appear to preserve Brossard’s preferences, not necessarily those of the composer. Brossard’s use of the term organo may be understood broadly to include harpsichord or organ, since, as Corette indicates in his treatise on violin playing entitled L’École d’Orphée (Paris, 1738), organo “means organ or figured bass for the harpsichord” (Orgue ou Basse chifrée pour le Clavecin).29 The 1707 harpsichord pieces—with violin accompaniment? The title of the first part of Jacquet de La Guerre’s 1707 print, Pièces de clavecin qui peuvent se joüer sur le viollon, appears to indicate that the harpsichord pieces in these two suites are suitable to be played by violin and harpsichord together. Although the phrase “sur le violon” is found on other title pages of the period,30 it is more frequently found in cases where the composer has supplied figures for 28   Jacquet de La Guerre was the first French composer to use the viol (or the cello) in both a melodic and harmonic role within a single piece. See Julie Anne Sadie, The Bass Viol in French Baroque Chamber Music, Studies in Musicology no. 26, ed. George Buelow (Ann Arbor, MI, 1980), p. 76. 29   Michel Corrette, L’École d’Orphée, Méthode Pour Apprendre facilement a joüer du Violon Dans le goût François et Italien … oeuvre XVIIIe (Paris, 1738), p. 42. 30   For example, this phrase appears in the title of Heudelinne’s Trois suites de pieces a deux violles. In this case, however, mention of the violin suggests that the intended performance is violin with basse continue, since a figured bass is included.

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the bass line. In that case, a performance as a violin solo with basse continue appears to have been intended. For Jacquet de La Guerre’s two suites, the composer supplies no bass figures whatsoever and, moreover, the broken chords and figuration are often shared between the right and left hands, making reduction to a basse continue part unlikely.31 A more likely interpretation would be that Jacquet de La Guerre intended to suggest an optional performance of the two harpsichord suites as accompanied keyboard music with violin. In this manner of performance, the violin would double certain melodic notes discreetly while adding subtle dynamic nuance and articulation. As Edith Borroff observed, some confusion has arisen in the musicological literature concerning the performance of Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas with violin owing to an earlier statement by Marc Pincherle, who assumed that the harpsichordist would give up the righthand part to the violin and provide an accompaniment from the figured bass. As Borroff notes, Jacquet de La Guerre did not include bass figures in her harpsichord pieces, and moreover, her music incorporates the harpsichordists’ two hands in a fashion that would make it impossible to leave out certain notes being played by the violin.32 There remains only one other option: that Jacquet de La Guerre indicated the possibility of performing the pieces with a violin doubling the upper line. If this is indeed the manner of performance suggested by the title, Jacquet de La Guerre’s suites would represent the first printed collection of accompanied keyboard music in France. As David Fuller has demonstrated, the genre of accompanied keyboard music in France developed from an early seventeenth-century Italian practice that was taken up considerably later by French violinists.33 One of the earliest documented performances consisted of lute pieces accompanied by violin performed by a player named Saint-Luc, who was in the service of Louis XIV.34 The early development of the genre in France is difficult to document, but the

31

  Nevertheless, such an interpretation has been proposed for these works, as for example in Cuthbert Girdlestone, Jean-Philippe Rameau: His Life and Work (New York, 1969), p. 38. Girdlestone suggests that these sonatas “are written on two staves and, if a violinist is at hand, may be performed à deux, when the keyboard player surrenders the treble and realizes the figured bass as he would in a violin sonata.” 32   Edith Borroff, “The Instrumental Works of Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville,” unpublished PhD dissertation, University of Michigan, 1958, vol. 1, pp. 291–3. She indicates that the passage from the work of Marc Pincherle appeared in the introduction to his edition of Mondonville’s sonatas op. 3 (p. 18). Carol Henry Bates also briefly mentions the option of doubling the upper line of the harpsichord part with a violin, in her article “Elizabeth Jacquet de La Guerre: A New Source of Seventeenth-Century French Harpsichord Music,” Recherches sur la musique française classique 22 (1984): 14, fn. 19. 33   David Fuller, “Accompanied Keyboard Music,” Musical Quarterly 60 (April, 1974): 222–45. 34   Ibid., pp. 232–3.

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genre emerges as a fully realized concept with Mondonville’s Pièces de clavecin en sonates avec accompagnement de violon … oe. 3e (Lille and Paris, [1734]). There are a few examples of accompanied keyboard pieces that predate Mondonville’s collection. For example, Jean-Philippe Rameau notes in his short treatise De la mechanique des doigts sur le clavessin, which prefaced his Pieces de clavessin (Paris, 1724), that some of the harpsichord pieces in his collection could be transposed, such as the Musette, which could move from E major to C major “especially when one plays it with the viol.”35 Although Rameau’s indication is not specific as to whether the viol is intended to accompany the harpsichord, the piece is suitable for realization in that manner. François Couperin also suggests several different possibilities for performing works he calls pièces-croisées: as harpsichord solos using a double-manual instrument, or in various combinations for two flutes or oboes, or for two violins, two viols, or other like instruments.36 One of the pièces-croisées from this collection entitled Le dodo, ou L’amour au Berçeau lies within a register suited to the bass viol and works very well as an accompanied keyboard piece with viol. When considering the possibility that Jacquet de La Guerre’s harpsichord pieces from 1707 may be performed with violin as accompanied keyboard music, some textural questions arise. Many of the pieces exhibit a relatively simple melody-and-accompaniment texture with the right and left hands clearly assigned to one of these functions. Examples of this sort of texture can be seen, for example, in the two rigaudons from the first suite in D minor and in the Menuet from the second suite in G major.37 In other movements, the texture is often more polyphonic, and both imitative writing and broken chords are used in one or both hands, often in succession, as for example in La Flamande (allemande) from the suite in D minor.38 Nevertheless, it is often possible to configure even pieces that exhibit a more polyphonic texture as works for harpsichord with violin accompaniment, as shown in Example 10.3. Using occasional rests and discreetly accompanying the melodic notes only, the violin adds subtle dynamic nuance and sonority by sustaining certain notes (for example, the tied notes in mm. 7–8). Even within a dense polyphonic texture as seen in this example, the violin’s doubling of melodic notes and addition of rests in a few places works well. This manner of performing Jacquet de La Guerre’s harpsichord music has thus far received little attention but appears to be a worthwhile option for performers to consider.

  Jean-Philippe Rameau, Pieces de clavessin, avec une méthode pour la mechanique des doigts sur le clavessin (Paris, 1724), p. 6: “Il y a quelques piéces dans ce livre, qu’on peut transposer; par exemple, la Musette, peut être mise en C. sol ut, sur tout pour être jouée avec la Violle; & les Rigaudons en D. la ré.” 36   François Couperin, Troisième livre de pièces de Clavecin (Paris, 1722). 37   See Jacquet de La Guerre, The Collected Works, vol. 1, pp. 78–9 and 93. 38   Ibid., vol. 1, pp. 58–9. 35

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Example 10.3 Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, La Flamande, allemande from the suite in D minor from Pièces de clavecin qui peuvent se joüer sur le viollon (1707), with added violin part

Other performance indications in Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas Additional issues for consideration when performing Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas include such matters as ornamentation, repeats and pauses between sections, and the interpretation of the term tasto solo. In contrast to the frequency and variety of ornament signs in Jacquet de La Guerre’s harpsichord music, the string parts in her cantatas and sonatas bear relatively few ornament signs. The most common sign in the 1707 sonatas is a cross (+), which indicates a short trill. This ornament may be combined with a petite note, which represents an appoggiatura and is generally slurred to the principal note. The same trill sign is found in the sonatas copied by Brossard together with a few dynamic marks (piano and forte in Sonata Ia in A minor, for example), but the manuscript score bears almost no indications for ornaments or articulation beyond a few slurs. Presumably Jacquet de La Guerre would have intended a similar

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application of trills, and most likely additional improvised ornaments for all of the violin sonatas, and the lack of indications in the sources should not deter players from adding them as taste and preference dictate. As is the case with ornament signs, the pattern of internal pauses and double bars is set out in a more prescriptive manner in the 1707 print than in the works from manuscript sources, but some ambiguities still remain. For example, when double bars are placed after a section, it is not always clear whether or not a pause is intended, but the spacing and layout in the print offer a few clues. There, a blank staff (or even a blank page) often follows a double bar, both of which strongly suggest that a pause is intended. Sonata 6 in A major (1707) is presented in the print with nine sections, most of which bear tempo indications: Allemande– Presto–Adagio–[no tempo mark]–Aria–Adagio–Presto–Adagio–Aria. Each section concludes with a double bar, and in all but one case the succeeding section begins on a new staff; in several cases, the remaining staves on a page are left blank, and the succeeding section begins on a new page. The only exception is the six-measure Adagio following the second Presto (m. 276), which flows directly without pause from the cadence in the preceding measure. The quarter-note motion of the bass line in mm. 275–6 also suggests that the two sections belong together. The absence of space between the two sections in the print appears to confirm that interpretation. For the other sections in this sonata, the layout in the print appears to suggest that pauses are intended following each double bar. In contrast to the more prescriptive nature of the print, the manuscript sources offer little indication about Jacquet de La Guerre’s intentions. The sonatas in the manuscript score are notated without internal pauses or double bars, and the parts that Brossard copied have only sparse indications for internal double bars in a few places. These works may have been intended to be performed with few, if any, pauses between sections, but the indications in the sources themselves leave this question open. The mark tasto solo can be found in the basse continue part for Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas from manuscript sources, both in the score and parts.39 In the print, the word seul appears in similar situations, as in the Aria of Sonata 3 (m. 118). Both of these marks appear to indicate that the bass line, which bears no figures for sections so marked, is to be played without a chordal realization. Concluding Remarks Owing to Sébastien de Brossard’s interest in preserving manuscript copies of Jacquet de La Guerre’s sonatas, we are fortunate in possessing a total of twelve of her sonatas, including eight works for one violin and basse continue and four works for two violins and basse continue. In these works, we find few performance indications (bowings, ornamentation, articulation marks, and the like), and those 39   For example, see Sonata 1 in G minor, m. 204 (ibid., vol. 2, p. 125) and the same passage (m. 204) as transmitted by Brossard’s parts, p. 189.

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marks that do survive need to be examined with a view to evaluating the authority of the sources in which they are found. The composer’s intentions as demonstrated by some of the printed sonatas can help us to interpret ambiguous situations in the earlier sonatas preserved in manuscript sources. From the available information in both the printed and manuscript sources of her works, we can surmise that, like most composers of her day, Jacquet de La Guerre assumed a flexible approach to instrumentation in her sonatas. An unusual and previously little-known feature of her two harpsichord suites published in 1707 suggests that they may be played as accompanied keyboard music with violin. Our modern estimation of Jacquet de La Guerre’s accomplishments as a composer has been based almost exclusively on her published music, but the sonatas represent an important contribution both to the emergence of the sonata in France and also to the new genre of accompanied keyboard music. Her sonatas help to bring about a better understanding of the breadth and novelty of Jacquet de La Guerre’s music and offer modern performers a diverse group of works infused with Italian musical idioms that were new in Paris at the time.

Chapter 11

Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Virtuoso French Cellist and Composer Jean-Baptiste Barrière (1707–1747) was an outstanding cellist and one of the first composers in France to publish solo music for that instrument. Despite these significant achievements, his music today remains little known, even among cellists, and is rarely performed.1 Several circumstances may account for his relative obscurity. Barrière lived only to the age of 40, and few facts are known about his career and musical experience. Unlike many of his contemporaries, Barrière apparently did not compose music in any of the vocal genres available to him. Rather, he composed and published exclusively instrumental music: four books of sonatas for cello and basse continue, another book for the pardessus de viole and basse continue, and one collection for solo harpsichord. The latter collection has been recognized for its historical and musical interest,2 but his cello music has received considerably less attention from scholars.3 In this composer profile, I investigate Barrière’s contributions to the early development of solo music for the cello in France. That both Jean-Baptiste Forqueray and Barrière reached the height of their careers in the 1730s and 1740s demonstrates that the viol and the cello co-existed as solo instruments for a considerable period of time and that each instrument had its outstanding exponents. By the late 1740s, Forqueray expressed his regret that the viol had fallen into an “oblivion” (une espece d’oubli),4 but, only a decade earlier, the future of the two instruments was still uncertain, giving rise to Hubert Le Blanc’s spirited defense of 1   A welcome contribution to the revival of Barrière’s music is the compact disc Jean Barrière: Sonates pour le violoncelle avec la basse continüe, performed by Bruno Cocset (cello), Blandine Rannou (harpsichord), and members of Les basses réunies (Alpha 015, recorded in 2000), which includes six sonatas by Barrière from Books 1–4. 2   See Sandra Mangsen, “Geminiani the Arranger: a Re-evaluation,” in Geminiani Studies, ed. Christopher Hogwood (Bologna, 2012). I am grateful to Professor Mangsen for providing me with a pre-publication copy of her essay. For bibliographical information on Barrière’s harpsichord collection, see also Bruce Gustafson and David Fuller, A Catalogue of French Harpsichord Music, 1699–1780 (Oxford, 1990), pp. 41–2. 3   The most thorough study to date of French cello music and cellists of this period is Sylvette Milliot’s Le violoncelle en France au XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1985), which includes a chapter on Barrière, pp. 117–35. 4   Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, Pieces de violes avec la Basse Continuë (Paris, [1747]), dedication, n.p.

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the viol against the “pretensions” of the cello in his well-known polemic entitled Defense de la basse de viole Contre les Entréprises du violon Et les Prétentions du violoncel (Paris, 1740). The music that Barrière and Forqueray published for their respective instruments preserves evidence of their virtuosity and the significant roles they played as innovators on the cello and the viol. The Cello and Cellists in Early Eighteenth-Century France As a solo instrument, the cello appeared on the French scene later than the violin, and, to judge by the amount of printed music specifying its use, the cello also grew in popularity at a slower pace. Whereas a significant number of sonatas for violin had been published in the first decade of the eighteenth century, it was not until the 1730s that a similar development took place in music for the cello, and prior to 1750 only a few publications specified the cello as a solo instrument. However, during that same period, performances by cellists became much more frequent. In the same way that French violinists looked to Italian performers for inspiration, French cellists sought out Italian performers and, in some cases, even travelled to Italy in order to study the cello with Italian masters. In addition to Barrière, only a few other Parisian cellists and composers for the instrument are known. Foremost among them is the Neapolitan Salvatore Lanzetti, the only cellist whom Le Blanc mentions by name, and who in 1736 was the first cellist to perform as a soloist at the Concert Spirituel.5 Corrette credits Lanzetti with fluent use of slurred staccato bowings with as many as eight notes per bow stroke;6 Lanzetti also employed other techniques that were considered innovative at the time, including use of the left thumb. Another Italian, Giuseppe Fedeli Saggione, published music for the cello but was better known as a player of the contrebasse, whom Corrette credited (along with Mondonville) with introducing that instrument at the Paris Opéra. Saggione published a collection entitled Six sonates a deux violoncelles[,] violes, ou bassons (Paris, 1733), one of the first to specify the cello in the title, and he was also one of the first to compose duets that made use of chords and patterns of figuration idiomatically suited to the cello.7 Credit for helping to establish the cello 5

  Lanzetti performed his own compositions for cello at the Concert Spirituel twice in May, 1736. See Constant Pierre, Histoire du Concert spirituel, 1725–1790 (Paris, 1975), p. 244 and Hubert Le Blanc, Defense de la basse de viole contre les entréprises du violon et les prétentions du violoncel [sic] (Amsterdam, 1740), p. 43. 6   Michel Corrette, Methode, théorique et pratique pour apprendre en peu de tems le violoncelle dans sa perfection (Paris, 1741), p. 12. 7   Joseph Bodin de Boismortier is usually credited with publishing the first collection of sonatas for cello in France. On the title page of his Vingtsixié.me œuvre … cinq sonates pour le violoncelle, viole, ou baßon (Paris, 1729), Boismortier indicates that, because he did not play the cello well, he had them approved by “M.r l’Abbé” [Pierre-Philippe SaintSévin], whose talent for the cello was well known.

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as a solo instrument in France must also go to Jean-Joseph Masse, who pursued a career as a professional cellist and who followed Saggione in composing attractive, and sometimes technically challenging, compositions for two cellos. Jean-Joseph Masse published five books of sonatas and a collection of menuets for two cellos in Paris; none of them bears a date on the title page. His birth and death dates remain unknown, and the few facts about him that are known come largely from information on the title pages for his publications. A royal privilege was granted to him in November, 1736, and his first collection Sonates a deux violonchelles (sic), œuvre 1, was probably published near that time. On the title page he is named as a member of the 24 Violons du Roi; the volume is dedicated to members of the Comédie-Française, where he also served as cellist. Two further volumes, also for two cellos, followed in 1739 and 1740.8 The announcement of his second book in the Mercure de France notes that it was “received even more favorably than the first book” (qu’on a reçû encore plus favorablement que le premier).9 His fourth and fifth collections, also for two cellos, were announced in the press in 1741 and 1754. His first two books, unlike Saggione’s, include figures for the bass line, which suggests that they are intended for three players (with a harpsichord as basse continue) rather than two. They are attractive, largely Italianate works revealing his keen sense of melodic invention and a strong rhythmic vitality.10 Like Masse, François Martin attained a considerable reputation as a performer on the cello, but Martin composed large vocal and instrumental works too, many of which were highly successful. His second collection for the cello, Six sonates pour le violonchelle y compris un duo pour un violon, et un violonchelle … œ. 2 (Paris, 1746), is an eclectic collection containing six sonatas in all: two for two cellos, three for cello and basse continue, and a duet for violin and cello. In the works for cello and basse continue, the bass line is frequently divided so that a second cello plays the upper part, joining the solo cello as a partner. The sonatas follow a three-movement pattern, and his writing shows elements of the galant style in its symmetrical phrases and clear harmonies. Sonata 4 in D major features the most virtuosity, including an unusual passage in which the player is directed to use his chin to stop the lower note in a passage of three-note chords.11 His use of harmonics in this sonata was probably the first instance of that technique in published music for the cello in France. His use of harmonics predates that of Berteau, who became famous for their use, by a few years. 8

The dates for Masse’s three books are those established by Milliot, who cites press announcements in the Mercure de France. See Milliot, Le violoncelle en France , p. 355. 9 Mercure de France, November, 1739, p. 2674. 10 Only a few compositions by Masse have been recorded. Two compact discs by Brandywine Baroque are especially noteworthy: Sonatas for Two Cellos, Book 1 and Sonatas for Two Cellos, Book 2, performed by Douglas McNames and Vivian Barton (cellos), with Karen Flint (harpsichord) (Dorian 93222 and 93223). 11 See the section entitled “Special Effects” in Chapter 7, p. 116.

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How early Martin Berteau (1708–1771) rose to fame as a cellist is not certain, but by the middle of the eighteenth century he too was considered to be an exceptional exponent of the instrument.12 Jean-Jacques Rousseau cited him as a cellist worthy of comparison with Mondonville on the violin, especially for the way that both players used harmonics “with beautiful effect” on their respective instruments.13 Berteau published one collection of cello sonatas (op. 1) in Paris in 1748 under the name “Sig.r Martino,” and another collection (op. 2) of sonatas for violin, possibly in the late 1760s.14 It is Berteau’s significance as a teacher of the cello that has given him a solid place in music history. His students included nearly every important French cellist of the succeeding generation, including Jean-Pierre Duport, François Cupis, Joseph Bonaventure Tillière, and others.15 In this way, Berteau has rightly been designated as the founder of the French school of cello playing, and his influence may even have spread more widely outside of France. Nevertheless, it was as a composer and performer on the cello that Jean-Baptiste Barrière came to be known. His music stands apart from other cello music by his contemporaries for its variety, interesting formal design, and technical demands on the player. Jean-Baptiste Barrière: a Short Biography Only a few details are known about Jean-Baptiste Barrière’s life and musical career.16 His baptismal record indicates that his date of birth was May 2, 1707, that he was born in Bordeaux, and that he was the son of a shoemaker (cordonnier).17 12   Certain facts about Berteau have been repeated often in the scholarly literature on early cello masters, without basis in fact in some cases, as for example the legend that he first learned the viol, and then became a cellist but still held his bow in the underhand fashion. Most of the reliable information about his life is summarized in Valerie Walden, One Hundred Years of Violoncello: A History of Technique and Performance Practice, 1740–1840 (Cambridge, 1998), pp. 13–14. 13   Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768), art. “sons harmoniques,” p. 449: “c’est à cause de cette douceur qu’on les appelle son flûtés. Il faut, pour en bien juger, avoir entendu M. Mondoville tirer sur son violon, ou M. Bertaud sur son violoncelle, des suites de ces beaux sons.” 14   Further on Berteau and the identification of Sigr. Martino as Martin Berteau, see Jane Adas, “‘Le celebre Berteau’,” Early Music 17 (August, 1989): 370–75. 15   Further on Berteau’s pupils and influence, see Margaret Campbell, “Masters of the Baroque and Classical Eras,” in The Cambridge Companion to the Cello, ed. Robin Stowell (Cambridge, 1999), p. 55. 16   Milliot, Le violoncelle en France, pp. 117–35. Archival documents cited in the present biographical sketch of Barrière’s life draw on Milliot’s research and are cited here with a page reference to her study as well as the location and shelf number of the original document. 17   Ibid., p. 117. Extrait du registre de baptême de l’église St. André, Arch. Nat. Min. Centr. CV, 1226; depôt de pièces; 9 Décembre 1747.

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No records have survived to indicate how long he remained in Bordeaux or where he received his musical training. Nothing else is known about him until 1731 when a record of personnel (players and singers) at the Paris Opéra names him, at the age of 24, as a “basse d’orchestre.”18 The same document states that he left this post in order to travel to Italy in April 1737 and returned to the same position at the Opéra in 1741. He probably spent only the early portion of that period in Italy, since the Mercure de France reported that he performed a sonata of his own composition at the Château des Thuileries “with great precision” (avec une grande précision) on July 15, 1738.19 The last few facts that are known about him come from an inventory of his belongings taken in the year of his death.20 Barrière died in 1747 at the age of 41, at which time he was living in a rented apartment on the rue des Poulies in the parish of Saint-Germain l’Auxerrois.21 According to the terms of his will, he left copies of his own printed music to the owners of two music shops (Leclerc and Boivin) where these collections had been offered for sale. Several musical instruments are also mentioned in the inventory, including six cellos and six pardessus de violes, described as “excellent” instruments that he intended to be sold.22 From these few facts about Barrière’s life and musical career, we can surmise that he was able to establish himself as a professional cellist and that he appears to have achieved considerable success. In all likelihood, he also played the pardessus de viole and probably taught both instruments. His musical instruments and other items listed in the inventory taken at his death also suggest that he was financially well situated and that, despite an early death, he left few, if any, debts. Barrière’s Cello Music Jean-Baptiste Barrière published altogether six collections of instrumental music, the first four of which each contain six sonatas for solo cello and basse continue. The fifth book presents another six sonatas for the pardessus de viole with basse continue, and the sixth contains a mixed group of compositions: five sonatas for solo harpsichord transcribed from his own works for pardessus de viole in Book 5, and five additional pièces (single-movement works) for solo harpsichord. All of these collections were published in Paris, and no date of publication appears on

18

  Amelot manuscript, Bibliothèque de l’Opéra, Rés. 516, fol. 293.   Mercure de France, August, 1738, p. 1863. 20   Quoted by Milliot, Le violoncelle en France, appendix, pp. 1–5; see also her discussion of the document, pp. 120–25. The Inventaire après le décès de J. Barrière is dated 27 juin, 1747. Arch. Nat., Minutier Central, étude IV, liasse 549. 21   Inventaire après le décès de J. Barrière. 22   Ibid., “six violonchelles excelants [sic], six pardessus de violles egallement exelants dont il y a un que j’ay preté à Lademoiselle de Gresillemon au Couvent de Bellechasse.” 19

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any of the title pages, but a few pieces of additional evidence allow us to assign tentative dates for them between 1733 and 1747. Barrière’s first book, entitled Sonates pour le violoncelle avec la basse continüe … livre Ier was engraved by Mme Leclair and sold in the shops of Boivin and Leclerc. The Mercure de France published a brief announcement of its publication in November, 1733.23 The collection is dedicated to Monsieur le Comte de Guergorlay, seigneur de Trousily. In the dedication, Barrière indicates that the count had shown a keen interest in the cello and that Barrière had performed for him.24 Although the language is conventionally formal and laudatory, the phrasing of Barrière’s dedication suggests that the relationship between Barrière and his dedicatee was a familiar one, possibly that of teacher and pupil. More than any French composer before him, Barrière makes demands on the cello soloist in bold and sometimes even daring ways. The works in his first collection show him, at the age of twenty-six, to be a composer of considerable talent as well as an accomplished cellist. Barrière’s sonatas in Book 1 exhibit a mixture of French and Italian characteristics. Overall, they follow the four-movement formal plan of the Italian sonata, commencing with a slow movement in duple meter. Three of these works (Sonatas 2, 4, and 6) include a movement entitled Allemanda, but dance titles are otherwise absent. The word “adagio” is used in two ways: as an indication of a slowing of the prevailing tempo, usually for the final cadence of a movement, or for a brief transitional section, framed by double bars, that connects two movements. The former type of adagio appears, for example, in the first movement of Sonata 4, and the latter type can be seen in Sonata 6 between the Allemanda and the Aria Gratioso, where the five-measure Adagio consists of a series of seventh chords, ending on E major, and proceeds directly to the Aria in A minor. Italian tempo marks are sometimes combined with a formal pattern that is essentially French, such as the rondeau, with its refrain (repeated) followed by at least two couplets, each of which is also repeated. Other Italianate characteristics that are prominent in Barrière’s music include florid runs (tirades) in slow movements, figuration crossing three strings, quick alternations of staccato notes with slurred passages, and a few dynamic marks such as forte and piano. Notwithstanding the frequency of Italianate markings, Barrière also incorporates some French ornamentation, which he indicates with signs (such as trills, appoggiaturas, and petites notes). In terms of its demands placed on the soloist, Barrière’s music exhibits considerable individuality. His music in minor keys draws unique sonorities from the instrument, possibly owing to the large number of different chord combinations he uses. Some of the techniques he employs include passages in nearly continuous two-part writing, occasional three- and four-part chords, and a few novel sonorities   Mercure de France, November, 1733, p. 2462.   The dedication alludes to the “heureuses dispositions pour l’instrument, a l’usage du quel je l’ay composé” and “l’Eloge que vous en avez fait lors que je l[‘]ay executé devant vous.” Sylvette Milliot also makes this observation, Le violoncelle en France, p. 126. 23

24

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Example 11.1 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Adagio (third movement) from Sonata 3 (Book 1, [1733]), for cello and basse continue

such as a moving part against a simultaneous held note, as in the Adagio (third movement) of Sonata 3 in E minor (Example 11.1). Another attractive feature of Barrière’s writing in Book 1 is the prominence he gives at times to the basse continue part. Using the mark tasto solo in the basse continue, Barrière occasionally calls for the bass line to split into two parts, as in the Adagio from Sonata 2 in G minor shown in Example 11.2. In such passages, the upper part often follows the solo part (and occasionally even rises above it) in parallel motion. On the title page for this collection, Barrière indicates that such passages are to be played without a chordal realization and with the harpsichordist playing both parts.25 This indication suggests that he intended the basse continue to be played by a harpsichord without a second cello doubling the bass line. Barrière’s first book of sonatas for cello apparently met with sufficient success to encourage him to publish another collection not long afterwards. His second book, Sonates pour le violoncelle avec la Basse Continüe … livre IIe, was again engraved by Madame Leclair and sold in the shops of Boivin and Leclerc. It appears likely that this collection fell within the six-year period covered by his first privilege granted in 1733, since it figures in the catalogue of the publisher Leclerc in 1737. This collection is dedicated to Madame Jourdain, whom Barrière praises for her interest in both science and the arts. He also indicates that Mme Jourdain had heard and enjoyed his music, but he offers no further details about their relationship or performances he may have presented to her. In his second book, Barrière once again shows a predilection for minor keys as home keys for four of his six sonatas. 25   Title page: “Les Nottes que ce trouveront au dessous de la Basse Continue seront pour le Clavecin.”

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Example 11.2 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Adagio (third movement) from Sonata 2 (Book 1, [1733]), for cello and basse continue

The six sonatas of Book 2 are similar in terms of overall formal design and dimensions to those in Book 1, but there are some distinctive differences as well. As was the case in his earlier works, each sonata consists of four movements, and all but one sonata begin with a slow movement marked either Adagio or Largo. Sonata 4 in E major is exceptional in this regard in that it begins with a movement in 4 marked gratioso, in binary form, with predominantly eighth-note motion. The character of this thinly scored movement is gentle, and the melody is replete with French ornamentation (short trills marked + and petites notes) and a single florid tirade near the end just prior to a cadence which is marked forte. Barrière uses dance titles with greater frequency in this book than in Book 1, with most sonatas featuring at least one, and sometimes two such movements (including the allemanda, sarabanda, minuetto, and giga). The aria, on the contrary, which appeared in four sonatas in Book 1, is here used only twice (in Sonatas 4 and 5, both in þ¾). The first five sonatas make slightly more modest technical demands on the player than the final sonata does. Sonata 4 includes an Adagio (third movement) written on three staves, the lowest of which bears the mark “Cimbalo.” The middle part (notated in bass and tenor clefs) at times doubles the bass line, but more

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often it acts as harmonic filler or joins the solo cello briefly as a partner, even rising above the solo cello for a brief passage (mm. 11–14) containing successive seventh chords and dissonances. In other passages where the basse continue part divides into two parts, the presence of figures on the bass line rather than tasto solo, as found in Book 1, suggests that in this case Barrière intended the upper part for a second cello.26 Sonata 6 in Book 2 appears to be the most challenging work of the collection, with its extended three-note chordal figuration in the second movement (Allegro), rapid string-crossings, and other virtuosic passages. In the second movement, certain passages also appear to require the use of the player’s left thumb in order to cover the notes conveniently. However, Barrière does not mark any fingerings, and it is not certain whether he employed thumb position, which was still a novelty in France at the time.27 Barrière’s third book, Sonates pour le violoncelle avec la Basse Continüe … livre IIIe, was published without a dedication. It represents the most significant departure from his previous collections in that the six sonatas are more varied in formal design and are more distinctly Italianate in character. According to an announcement in the Mercure de France in November, 1739, Barrière had recently returned from Italy when he published his third book.28 An unusual contribution to this volume is an entire sonata a Tre (Sonata 2 in D minor), printed throughout on three staves with an upper part notated in treble clef. The range (d to d″′) and character of the upper part suggest that it may be suited to the flute, oboe, or violin, and the middle part, notated throughout in tenor clef, appears to be intended for the cello. In terms of overall formal design, a three-movement plan predominates in Book 3, and movements with dance titles appear in three of the six sonatas. All of the sonatas except the first begin with a slow movement (Adagio, Largo, or Andante); Sonata 1 begins with an Allemanda. Occasionally a short transitional passage links two movements, and for the most part binary form predominates. 26   A passage in Sonata 6 appears to be a unique exception. In the opening Adagio, the mark tasto solo appears on the basse continue part five measures before the final cadence, and the bass line is divided much as it is in passages so marked in Book 1. This feature and the overall virtuosity required of the soloist in this sonata may indicate that Barrière intended it to be accompanied by harpsichord alone. 27   Sylvette Milliot (Le violoncelle en France, p. 134) suggests that passages in Barrière’s fourth book unquestionably demand the use of thumb position, but she does not comment on passages of a similar nature in his earlier books. Cecil Adkins and Alis Dickinson state that thumb position on the cello was established in France by the late 1720s and credit its origin to Italian performers rather than, as has sometimes been proposed, being derived from the playing technique of the marine trumpet (trompette marine), a single-string bowed instrument that also made use of harmonics. See Adkins and Dickinson, A Trumpet by Any Other Name: A History of the Trumpet Marine (Buren, 1991), vol. 1, pp. 80–81. 28   Mercure de France, November, 1739, p. 2674: “Le sieur Barrière, de retour d’Italie à Paris, vient de faire graver son troisième Livre de Sonates pour le Violoncelle. Il se vend à Paris ruë S. Honore à la Regle d’Or, et ruë du Roule chez le sieur le Clerc.”

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Sonatas 4 and 6 must have sounded very modern in Barrière’s day. In both of these sonatas, the composer appears to use figuration not merely as an elaboration of what came before but also as a way of propelling the harmonic motion forward. Figuration of various types is used to extend phrases and to interrupt the melody at times (in a Vivaldian manner). The overall sound creates a brilliant effect, even astonishing at times. By the end of 1739, Barrière’s first privilege having reached its six-year limit, on December 26, 1739, he was granted a second privilege, valid this time for 12 years. It appears likely that his last three books fall within the period covered by this second privilege and were therefore issued between 1740 and 1747 (the year of his death). However, his heirs were granted another privilege after his death in 1751 for “sonatas and other instrumental works” by Barrière,29 and it is not known whether these were reissued works or new ones not previously published. Book 4, entitled Sonates pour le violoncelle avec la Basse Continüe … livre IVe, bears no dedication. There is a distinct warmth and brightness to the sonorities within this collection, possibly owing in part to the preponderance of major keys (all but two sonatas being in the major mode). There is also more frequent use of compound meters such as þ¾ and ³¾. In several ways, Book 4 demonstrate some significant changes from Barrière’s earlier works. He also makes frequent use of Presto and Prestissimo tempo marks, which are not found in his earlier works. Sonata 4 in G major is the only work for cello among Barrière’s published music whose bass line is entirely unfigured. This feature, together with passages in double stops, tenor clef, and the presence of bowings and other articulation marks in both parts, suggests that this sonata is intended for two cellos without harpsichord. The Example 11.3 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Allegro (third movement) from Sonata 6 (Book 4, n.d.), for cello and basse continue

29   Michel Brenet, “La librairie musicale en France de 1653 a 1790, d’après les Registres de privileges,” SIMG 8 (1907): 447.

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two parts often move within a similar register as equal partners, and occasionally the two parts even cross. In Sonata 6 in C major, Barrière introduces (transposing) treble clef for the solo cello part, alternating with a few passages in soprano, tenor, and bass clefs. Once again, this sonata appears to call for the use of the player’s thumb, as for example at the change to transposing treble clef in measure 24 of the third movement (Example 11.3), despite no such indication in the music. Barrière’s Music for pardessus de viole and Harpsichord Barrière’s fifth and sixth books appear to respond to the different musical interests of amateur players and women, who were more likely to choose the pardessus de viole or the harpsichord rather than the cello because they offered a more convenient playing position. His fifth book, Sonates pour le pardessus de viole avec la Basse Continüe … livre Ve, was published without dedication. The six sonatas in this collection are notated throughout in treble clef accompanied by basse continue (with figures) for the harpsichord. Three of the six sonatas are in minor keys, and all have four-movement formal plans beginning with a slow movement (Largo, Adagio or Grave, or Andante) in duple meter. Only one movement bears a dance title (sarabanda, the third movement of Sonata 2), and as in the first two books for cello, the Aria is favored as the final movement. More than is the case with his cello music, Barrière’s music for the pardessus de viole appears to be arranged in order of increasing difficulty, which suggests that the pieces may have been intended to serve as pedagogical material. The most unusual feature of his writing for pardessus is the appearance of elaborate written-out ornamentation in the Italian style in certain slow movements, such as the Adagio at the opening of Sonata 4. The sweeping runs covering a wide range contrast with passages in continuous double stops, both of which were techniques usually associated with violin music. Barrière does not indicate which type of pardessus de viole he intended to be used for this collection, but since the five-string pardessus became popular around 1730 as an alternative way to play music written for the violin, it appears likely that this instrument is the one Barrière intended. The five-string tuning of fifths and fourths (g–d′–a′–d″–g″) included the same intervals as the three lower strings of the violin, which allowed the possibility of playing chords and figuration written for that instrument, and the upper register of the violin’s range was facilitated by the addition of a top g″ string above the treble viol’s top string of d″.30

  The five-string instrument called the quinton has sometimes been confused with the five-string pardessus. The two instruments have the same tuning; the quinton was shaped like a violin, and the pardessus was shaped like a viol. Further on the development of the quinton, see Myrna Herzog, “Is the Quinton a Viol? A Puzzle Unraveled,” JVdGSA 40 (2003): 5–35. 30

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The five-string instrument enjoyed popularity from 1730 to 1760,31 during which time dozens of collections and treatises were published for the instrument.32 Women played it in preference to the violin, and it was also popular with cellists and viol players who wanted to perform violin music without learning a new technique. An older, six-string pardessus had also been known from about 1690; its introduction was credited to Marin Marais.33 The most common tuning for the six-string pardessus was g–c′–e′–a′–d″–g″. Thomas Marc describes this tuning in the avertissement to his Suitte de pieces de dessus et de pardessus de viole et trois Sonates, avec les Basses Continüe. Livre Ier (Paris, 1724).34 The pardessus de viole continued to gain popularity during the 1740s, the decade in which Barrière published his sonatas, and its popularity continued to grow steadily during the following decade, after which it began to decline but was still mentioned occasionally until 1780.35 Barrière’s sixth book, entitled Sonates et pieces pour le clavecin … livre VI (Paris, n.d.), his only collection for harpsichord, represents the first published set of sonatas for that instrument by a French composer.36 The first five of the six sonatas in Book 6 are transcriptions of the first five sonatas for pardessus de viole in his Book 5. Sonata 6 in A minor has an unusual formal plan: it has only three movements, the last of which is in A major, an Aria amoroso in þ¾ with a substantial Adagio (also in þ¾) as a middle section, after which the melody that begins the movement returns briefly at the end. In the sonatas that were transcribed from the pardessus sonatas of Book 5, comparison of the two versions reveals that   Richard Sutcliffe (“Re-Examining the pardessus de viole and Its Literature, Part I: Introduction and Methods,” JVdGSA 37 [2000]: 8) narrows the period of change from the six-string to the five-string instrument to the period between 1749 and 1753, based on the mention of both instruments on title pages during that period. 32   See the repertoire list in Richard Sutcliffe, “Re-Examining the pardessus de viole and Its Literature, Part II: Repertoire from 1722 to c. 1790,” JVdGSA 38 (2001): 32–77. 33   Tina Chancey, “Gender, Class, and Eighteenth-Century French Music: Barthélemy de Caix’s Six sonates for two unaccompanied pardessus de viole,” JVdGSA 33 (1996): 50; for background on the pardessus de viole, see p. 48, fn. 3, and Robert A. Green, “Recent Research and Conclusions Concerning the ‘pardessus de viole’ in Eighteenth-Century France,” in A Viola da Gamba Miscellany, Proceedings of the International Viola da Gamba Symposium Utrecht 1991, ed. Johannes Boer and Guido van Oorschot (Utrecht, 1994), pp. 103–14. The latter article contains a list of music for the pardessus and treatises for the instrument. Marin Marais had a pardessus among the instruments in his collection at his death in 1728. See François Lesure, “Marin Marais, sa carrière, sa famille,” Revue belge de musicologie 7 (1953): 135. 34  Marc, avertissement, n.p. 35   Robert A. Green, “The pardessus de viole and Its Literature,” Early Music 10 (July, 1982): 306. See Table 1 in his article, which shows that there were 16 mentions of the pardessus on title pages between 1740 and 1749, whereas between 1750 and 1759 there were 32. 36   Gustafson and Fuller, A Catalogue of French Harpsichord Music, p. 41. 31

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the slow movements in particular have undergone a considerable transformation. Following the six sonatas are five pièces (single-movement works) whose titles recognize other musicians of the day, such as La Casamajor and La Boucon.37 Example 11.4 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Allegro (second movement) from Sonata 2 in D major (Book 5, n.d.), for pardessus de viole and basse continue

Figure 11.1 Jean-Baptiste Barrière, Allegro (second movement) from Sonata 2 in D major (Book 6), for harpsichord, from Sonates et pieces pour le clavecin … livre IV (Paris: author, n.d.). Source: Performers’ Facsimile 232 (New York: Broude Brothers, 1999). Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Editions, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited

37   Jacques Duphly also recognized these two musicians in the titles of two pieces in his Pièces de clavecin dédiées à Monseigneur le duc d’Ayen composées par M. Du Phly (Paris, 1744).

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In this collection, Barrière takes his fondness for Italianate tirades, arpeggios, and florid ornamentation to unprecedented heights. The slow movements bear written-out elaborate ornamentation consisting of thirty-second- and sixtyfourth-note runs, figuration suited to the keyboard, and unmeasured passages with rapid broken chords and acciaccature (dissonances struck with chords and quickly released). Most of the fast movements remain close to the versions for pardessus de viole, but some of them feature additional written-out ornamentation. Certain slow movements depart markedly from the version for pardessus, as for example Sonata 2, which originally began with a lyrical Andante that is replaced in the harpsichord transcription by a flamboyant and virtuosic movement with frequent, sudden changes from Grave or Adagio to Prestissimo, and back again. The movement comes to a dramatic pause near the end, where its chords and octave figuration make use of the extreme low register of the harpsichord. The ensuing Allegro in ²¼ demonstrates a similar character in both the pardessus and the harpsichord versions, but Barrière exploits the idiomatic possibilities of each instrument to best advantage. In the pardessus version (Example 11.4), a twooctave triadic arpeggio achieves brilliance without excessive string-crossings, and the phrase continues in double stops marked with staccato dots under a slur, a bowing borrowed from contemporary violin sonatas. The harpsichord version is similar (Figure 11.1) but full of scalewise runs in both hands and a hand-over-hand passage equivalent to the pardessus’s double stops. Barrière is especially fond of thickly spaced chords in the left hand that lie low in the harpsichord’s range. Concluding Remarks Jean-Baptiste Barrière became an outstanding performer on the cello in the 1730s and 1740s, a time when that instrument had few virtuoso exponents in France. He also published six collections of music during his lifetime: four for solo cello and basse continue, one for pardessus de viole and basse continue, and one for solo harpsichord. Barrière’s music for cello bears scrutiny for its blend of French and Italian characteristics as well as for its unusual right- and left-hand techniques that became associated with virtuoso cello playing. He takes a fresh and imaginative approach by expanding the palette of sonorities that can be drawn from the cello, while also calling for techniques that were new at the time. A special and attractive feature of his music is the way that he uses the basse continue as a partner at times, with obbligato passages for the harpsichord above a bass line marked tasto solo. At least one of his sonatas appears to have been intended for two cellos without basse continue, and another is also scored in trio texture with a treble instrument on the top part. Barrière’s cello music stands apart for its use of string idioms, some of which had been associated primarily with violin music, that were new in France at the time. His sonatas in minor keys are often particularly infused with individuality.

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At the same time, his melodic writing, formal structure, and ornamentation owe much to their relationship with music by his French predecessors and contemporaries, especially François Couperin.

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Chapter 12

Forqueray’s Pieces de viole avec la Basse Continuë: Authorship and Performance Issues Jean-Baptiste Forqueray’s Pieces de viole avec la Basse Continuë (Paris, [1747]; see Figure 12.1) occupies a unique position in the viol repertoire: it comes near the end of a long tradition of French solo viol music and also challenges the player in entirely novel ways.1 Also in 1747, Forqueray published a second collection entitled Pieces de viole … Mises en Pieces de clavecin, consisting of the same five suites of the first collection transcribed for solo harpsichord.2 The music in these two collections is challenging, not only because of its technical demands on the players, but also because the viol print in particular contains a myriad of symbols, musical notation that is cramped and small, and numerous errors. The music itself presents significant interpretive challenges too, and, perhaps most puzzling of all, there are uncertainties regarding the music’s attribution that remain unresolved. In this profile, I investigate the background to Jean-Baptiste Forqueray’s decision to publish the two prints and what if any responsibility his father, Antoine Forqueray, may have had as composer of the music. I also investigate two alternative performance possibilities: as solos for the pardessus de viole and as accompanied keyboard music with the basse de viole. Examination of the meaning behind some of Jean-Baptiste’s idiosyncratic notations and symbols helps us to approach the technical challenges posed by the music. The reputation of the two Forquerays— Antoine and Jean-Baptiste—as viol players was unequalled, but their lives were also characterized by extraordinary circumstances that bear on the music they composed and performed. Some of these circumstances may also bear on our attempt to discover who is responsible for composing the music.

1

  This chapter draws upon my research toward the preparation of a new scholarly edition (Antoine Forqueray, Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, Michel Forqueray, Nicolas-Gilles Forqueray: The Works [New York: The Broude Trust, 2012]). I acknowledge with gratitude the significant contributions of Ronald Broude and Ellen S. Beebe, who gave wise advice and many helpful suggestions. I am also grateful for the kind permission of The Broude Trust for the Publication of Musicological Editions to present some of my research results here in revised form as a composer profile. 2   Forqueray’s harpsichord print, like the viol print, bears no date on the title page. Because the two prints were announced together in the press (Mercure de France, June 1747, pp. 135–6), we can assume that they were published in close proximity.

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Figure 12.1 Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, Pieces de viole avec la Basse Continuë (Paris, [1747], title page. Reproduced with the permission of the British Library Board. All rights reserved

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Antoine Forqueray le père: a Brief Biography Jean-Baptiste Forqueray (1699–1782) and his father, Antoine Forqueray (1671 or 1672–1745), both excelled at playing the viol, and, along with Marin Marais, they acquired reputations as the finest French exponents of that instrument. Details of Antoine Forqueray’s birth and early life are sketchy, and eighteenth-century reports are at times contradictory. Antoine’s birth year was either 1671 (according to La Borde), or more likely September, 1672 (after a Forqueray family document).3 La Borde also indicates that Antoine studied the viol with his father, and that he performed for Louis XIV at an early age. While still only in his teens, Antoine received his first appointment at court as musicien ordinaire de la Chambre (commencing December, 1689),4 and he was granted several other titles as viol player until at least 1736, when he became one of the Veterans de la ChapelleMusique.5 By the time of the last appointment, he had retired and was receiving a pension. Antoine Forqueray also spent a period of several years in the service of the Duc d’Orléans (Philippe II), who was a passionate supporter of Italian music and himself an accomplished viol player, singer, and composer.6 For at least part of his career, Antoine also maintained a domicile in Paris. The Livre commode des adresses de Paris pour 1692 lists “Fourcroy le fils” as “Maître pour la violle” living at that time on the rue Vielle du Temple.7 Since “le fils” in this case must refer to Antoine, we can assume that he was also teaching viol in Paris in 1692. On February 7, 1697, Antoine Forqueray married Angélique Henriette Houssu (whose first name is sometimes written Henriette-Angélique), the 17-year-old daughter of the Parisian organist Antoine Houssu. At the time of his marriage, Antoine was still living in Paris. Three children were born of their marriage: Charlotte Elizabeth in 1697, Jean-Baptiste (or Jean-Baptiste-Antoine) two years later,8 and another daughter, Elizabeth, between 1700 and 1705.9

  Jean Benjamin de La Borde, Essai sur la musique ancienne et moderne (Paris, 1780), vol. 3, p. 509; Lionel de La Laurencie reports on the Forqueray family papers in “Deux violistes célèbres: notes sur les Forqueray,” Bulletin français de la SIM 4 (1908): 1252. 4   La Laurencie, “Deux violistes célèbres,” p. 1253. Antoine Forqueray replaced Gabriel Expirly, who had been appointed basse de viole de la Chambre in 1677. 5   Marcelle Benoit, Musiques de Cour: Chapelle, Chambre, Écurie, 1661–1733 (Paris, 1971), p. 271. 6   The exact dates of Antoine’s service to the Duc are unknown. Don Fader, “Musical Thought and Patronage of the Italian Style at the Court of Philippe II, duc d’Orléans (1674–1723),” PhD dissertation, Stanford University, 2000, p. 158, cites relevant archival documents (Minutier Central X, 307 [May 5, 1713] and X, 321 [January 21, 1716]). 7   Abraham du Pradel [Nicolas de Blegny], Le livre commode des adresses de Paris pour 1692, ed. Édouard Fournier (Paris, 1878), vol. 1, p. 209. 8   La Laurencie, “Deux violistes célèbres,” p. 1258. 9   Louis Forqueray, Les Forqueray et leurs descendants (Paris, 1911), p. 37. 3

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In his laudatory biographical sketch, La Borde praises Antoine’s gentle temperament (la douceur de son caractere) as one of the contributing features to his exceptional musical talent. However, this report proves unreliable in comparison with other eighteenth-century documents, which tell quite a different story. During the years between 1700 and 1709, Angélique Forqueray lodged formal complaints against her husband, accusing him of maltreatment, assault, and adultery with two servants in their employ. Antoine countered with a complaint of adultery against his wife.10 In 1700, she requested formal separation but later withdrew her complaint. In October, 1709, Antoine was invited to join the Elector of Bavaria at Compiègne. When Antoine returned home, another violent episode ensued, and countersuits were filed. Eventually, on March 29, 1710, the accusation of adultery against his wife was discharged, and the couple separated in the same year. Despite the conflicts that permeated his personal life, Antoine’s musical career appears to have flourished. The Marquis de Dangeau (Philippe de Courcillon) recorded a performance by a group of four musicians, including Antoine Forqueray, on October 23, 1704 at Sceaux in Madame de Maintenon’s quarters. The members of the quartet were [René Pignon] Descoteaux, Forqueray, Vizée [Robert de Visée] and [Jean-Baptiste] Buterne.11 A later account entered by the Marquis de Sourches in 1710 reports a performance by the same ensemble. On this occasion at court, the concert was sponsored by the Duchesse de Bourgogne on January 7, 1710 and was described by the Marquis de Sourches as “a fine group of musicians consisting of Des Costeaux [sic], transverse flute; de Vizé, theorbo; de Buterne, harpsichord; and Forcroy, basse de viole” (une très belle symphonie, composée de Des Costeaux [sic] pour la flûte allemande, de Vizé pour le théorbe, de Buterne pour le clavecin, et de Fourcroy pour la basse de viole).12 Antoine retired to Mantes (today a suburb on the western side of Paris known as Mantes-la-Jolie) in 1731 and remained there until his death in 1745. Forqueray’s legacy was his outstanding reputation as a performer, and he was particularly noted for his ability to perform works written for the violin on the basse de viole. Hubert Le Blanc remarks in his Défense de la basse de viole (Paris, 1740) that

10

  For details of the formal complaints lodged by the Forquerays, see J. G. Prod’homme, “Les Forqueray,” Rivista musicale italiana 10 (1903): 678–85. 11   “Au retour de sa promenade [the king’s walk in the gardens at Sceaux] il y eut chez madame de Maintenon un concert de Descoteaux, Forcroy, Vizée et Buterne.” Philippe de Courcillon, Marquis de Dangeau, Journal du marquis de Dangeau, publié pour la première fois par MM. Eud. Soulié et L. Dussieux, de Chennevières, Mantz, de Montaiglon, avec les additions inédites du duc de Saint Simon, publiées par M. Feuillet de Conches (Paris, 1857), vol. 10, p. 161. 12   Norbert Dufourcq, La musique à la cour de Louis XIV et de Louis XV d’après les Mémoires de Sourches et Luynes, 1681–1758 (Paris, 1970), p. 33.

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It is acknowledged that if one of the most beautiful things to hear was an Adagio by Corelli played by Geminiani, giving justice to whatever was needed, one was forced to fall in agreement that never had anyone in the world played with as much taste, as pure, as correct, the sonatas of Mr. Michel [Mascitti] as Forqueray senior and with a natural sound not confined by wood… (On convint donc que si une des plus belles choses à entendre était un Adagio de Corelly, joué à la Geminiani, rendant justice à que elle était due, on était forcé de tomber d’accord que jamais homme au monde n’avoit joué d’un aussi grand goût, aussi pur, aussi correct, les Sonates de M. Michel [Michele Mascitti] que Forcroi le père, et d’une nature de son le plus dégagé de bois…)13

Antoine Forqueray was said to have left a considerable body of music (all of it presumably unpublished)—approximately three hundred compositions—at his death.14 Sadly, a great majority of them are now lost. Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, le fils: a Brief Biography Jean-Baptiste-Antoine Forqueray was born April 3, 1699 and baptised on April 5 at Saint-Eustache.15 La Borde reports that, like his father, Jean-Baptiste performed at court at an early age.16 Exactly how he acquired his musical training is not known, but Jean-Baptiste soon excelled at playing the viol and took a serious interest in composition. His musical interests appear to have contributed to a troubled relationship with his father which lasted for several years. The first documented evidence of their strained relationship appears in an undated letter from Antoine Forqueray to the chief of police in which Antoine’s complaints against his son are enumerated.17 Antoine claims that his son had committed petty thefts and that he led an immoral lifestyle, neither of which had changed even after Antoine had been successful in having his son imprisoned for several months. Antoine further states that no other recourse remained than to order his exile from France, a request   Hubert Le Blanc, Defense de la basse de viole contre les entréprises du violon et les prétentions du violoncel (Amsterdam, 1740), pp. 103–4. 14  Forqueray, Les Forqueray, p. 4, quoting an anonymous obituary for Antoine Forqueray, written in 1745, belonging to the Forqueray family papers. La Laurencie, who quotes the same obituary (“Deux violistes célèbres,” pp. 1252–3) reports that it is an anonymous eighteenth-century manuscript. 15   Extrait du Registre des Baptêmes faits en l’église paroissiale de Saint-Eustache, à Paris, December 7, 1779, Arch. nat. O1 6753, quoted by La Laurencie, “Deux violistes célèbres,” pp. 1258–9. 16   La Borde, Essai sur la musique, vol. 3, pp. 509–10. 17   The letter is preserved in Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Arsénal, Archives de la Bastille, dossier 10620, fols 367–367’. 13

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that was granted onDecember 3, 1725. Also preserved in the same dossier are several testimonials from friends and patrons of Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, which ultimately allowed him to gather enough support for an order to rescind the exile, which was granted as of February 3, 1726.18 No documents have survived that tell us anything more about the period that Jean-Baptiste spent away from France, but it appears that his professional career continued to develop during all of this time despite the troubled relationship with his father. Even reports that date from very close to his months in exile testify to his position as a leading viol player of his day. For example, Joachim Christoph Nemeitz, who was living in Paris in 1725, found Jean-Baptiste to be the equal of Marais.19 Quantz also visited Paris the following year and praised Jean-Baptiste’s playing along with that of Marais’s son, Roland.20 On July 29, 1732, Jean-Baptiste married Jeanne Nolson, whose family included some eminent musicians and members of the aristocracy.21 There were no children from this marriage, and at a date not specifically known but no more than nine years later, Madame Forqueray died.22 The decade or so prior to the publication of Jean-Baptiste’s viol music represents a period during which his performing career was at its peak level, and there are indications that Forqueray’s musical taste leaned very much toward the newest trends in music being heard in Paris. His knowledge and curiosity for modern music extended beyond French borders too. Forqueray was very likely one of several prominent French musicians who invited Telemann to visit Paris, where Telemann stayed for a period of eight months in 1737 and 1738.23 In his autobiography, Telemann states that he obtained a 20-year royal privilege to 18   Archives de la Bastille, Bibliothèque de l’Arsénal dossier 10242. Jean-Baptiste’s letter is on fol. 381; the testimonials are found on fols 371–380. The document rescinding the exile is on fol. 383. 19   [Joachim Christoph] Nemeitz, Séjour de Paris (Leyden, 1727), vol. 1, p. 353. 20   Johann Joachim Quantz, Lebenslauf von ihm selbst entworten [sic], in Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg, Historisch-kritische Beyträge zur Aufnahme der Musik, vol. 1 (Berlin, 1754), p. 238. 21   Estienne Boucon, brother-in-law of Jeanne Nolson, was chevalier des ordres de Saint-Jean de Latran et Comte Palatin of Saint-Lazare. He supported the arts in general and contributed to the welfare of several musicans, including the violinist Jean-Pierre Guignon. Boucon’s daughter, Anne-Jeanne Boucon, later married Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville (August 10, 1747). Anne-Jeanne Boucon was a harpsichordist whom Rameau honored with his “La Boucon” in the second concert of his Pièces de clavecin en concerts (Paris, 1741). See La Laurencie, “Deux violistes célèbres,” pp. 1259–60 and Roberte Machard, Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de Mondonville, virtuose, compositeur, et chef d’orchestre (Beziers, 1980), pp. 55–8. 22  Forqueray, Les Forqueray, p. 59, states that, although no death date can be found, family papers indicate that it likely took place in the summer of 1740. 23   Further on Telemann’s Parisian works and visit to the French capital, see Steven Zohn, Music for a Mixed Taste: Style, Genre, and Meaning in Telemann’s Instrumental

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publish instrumental works, and that one of the results was a set of quartets for which subscriptions had already been secured. Forqueray was listed among these subscribers,24 and, as Telemann indicates, Forqueray was also among the group of noted musicians who performed the quartets: Michel Blavet on flute, JeanPierre Guignon on violin, Jean-Baptiste Forqueray on basse de viole, and Édouard (whose full name is not known) on cello.25 Telemann himself may have performed the harpsichord continuo, or the pieces may have been performed by a quartet alone. Telemann’s Nouveaux quatuors epitomized the galant style that remained current in Paris for years to come, and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray continued to perform them publicly at the Concerts spirituels and other venues. The Mercure de France reports five performances of a Telemann quartet in June, 1745 with Blavet (flute), Marella (violin), and L’abbé l’aîné (Pierre-Philippe Saint-Sévin, cello).26 That at least some of these performances did include harpsichord continuo is apparent from Marpurg’s report that Anne-Jeanne Boucon, Blavet, Forqueray, and Guignon performed them to great critical acclaim.27 On March 13, 1741, Jean-Baptiste married Marie-Rose [or Roze] Dubois,28 who was 24 years old at the time, according to La Borde. She was the daughter of a parliamentary lawyer, Jérôme Dubois (or Du Bois). Mme Forqueray was a talented harpsichordist who earned the praise of several writers, including Daquin de Châteaulyon, who noted that she had an outstanding reputation.29 Jean-Baptiste also served the Prince de Conti for a period of time (exact dates unknown), according to La Borde. He retired from that service after the death of the Prince on August 2, 1776. Jean-Baptiste died in 1782. Musical Tributes to the Forquerays The outstanding reputations of both Antoine and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray formed the basis for numerous musical tributes to them. Because their careers overlapped Works (Oxford, 2008), pp. 452–9. The passage from Telemann’s autobiography is quoted and translated on p. 452. 24   George Philippe Telemann, “Noms des Souscrivants de Paris et de France,” in Nouveaux quatuors en six suites (Paris, n.d.). 25  Zohn, Music for a Mixed Taste, p. 453. 26   The concerts took place on June 6, 8, 13, 17, and 20, 1745. See Constant Pierre, Histoire du Concert spirituel 1725–1790 (Paris, 1975), p. 251. 27   See Zohn, Music for a Mixed Taste, p. 453. The Marpurg reference is from the dedication to the first volume of the composer’s Abhandlung von der Fuge. 28   Marcelle Benoit and Norbert Dufourcq, “À propos des Forqueray,” Recherches 8 (1968): 231. 29   [Pierre-Louis] Daquin de Châteaulyon, Siecle litteraire de Louis XV, ou lettres sur les hommes celebres (Amsterdam, 1754), vol. 1, p. 127: “On connoît tous les talens de Madame Forqueray; sa réputation est éclatante.”

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to an extent and both were such outstanding players, it is often difficult to determine to whom such tributes refer. There are at least five examples of musical tributes as well as a movement in Jean-Baptiste’s own 1747 print entitled La Forqueray (Ier Suite). Louis-Antoine Dornel gave the title La Forcroy to the fourth sonata in his Sonates a violon seul et suites pour la flûte traversiere avec la basse (Paris, 1711). This sonata has an obbligato viol part, which surely is the reason for its title. Because of the early date of Dornel’s sonata, this tribute is almost certainly meant for Antoine Forqueray. François Couperin’s harpsichord piece La Superbe ou la Forqueray appears in his Troisième Livre de pièces de clavecin … Concerts royaux (Paris, 1722) as the first piece in the Dixseptième ordre. The word superbe in the title of this piece appears to indicate that it too was meant as a tribute to the outstanding reputation of Antoine Forqueray. The blend of French and Italian characteristics in this allemande30 may also be a reference to Forqueray’s ability to play Italian sonatas on a French instrument (the basse de viole). Perhaps the most well known of the pieces that bear the Forqueray name is Jean-Philippe Rameau’s Fugue La Forqueray from his Cinquième concert in his Pièces de clavecin en concerts avec un violon ou une flute, et une viole ou un deuxième violon (Paris, 1741). Rameau belonged to Antoine Forqueray’s generation rather than Jean-Baptiste’s, but he could conceivably have known both of them. It is apparent from the title that Jean-Baptiste Forqueray chose for one of the pieces in his 1747 collection (La Rameau, Ve Suite), that he returned the favor, but how they became acquainted is something of a mystery. Rameau was 11 years younger than Antoine Forqueray and may well have come to know the Forqueray family initially either by hearing Antoine perform, or through connections with prominent Parisian organists, some of whom belonged to the Forqueray family.31 Rameau’s accomplished obbligato writing for the basse de viole in his cantata Les amants trahis, which dates from 1721

30   David Ledbetter discusses the combination of French and Italian styles in this allemande in some detail in his article, “On the Manner of Playing the Adagio: Neglected Features of a Genre,” Early Music 29 (February, 2001): 18. 31   Rameau was in Paris between 1705 and 1708, when he published his Premier livre de pièces de clavecin (Paris, 1706) and acquired two posts as organist. He moved to Paris in 1722 and remained there until his death in 1764. Further on the chronology of Rameau’s early life, see Neal Zaslaw, “Rameau’s Operatic Apprenticeship,” in Jean-Philippe Rameau Colloque international organisé par La Société Rameau, Dijon 21–24 septembre 1983, ed. Jérôme de La Gorce (Paris, 1987), pp. 40–43. The only documented occasion upon which Rameau and one of the Forquerays met was reported in Vicomte Victor de Bonald, Samuel Bernard, banquier du Trésor royal et sa descendance (Paris, 1912), p. xiii. On this occasion in 1733, Rameau was reported to have obtained permission from the organist of Saint-Eustache (Nicolas-Gilles Forqueray) to play the organ for a wedding. Graham Sadler has observed that this report is very likely apocryphal. See his article, “Patrons and Pasquinades, Rameau in the 1730s,” in Journal of the Royal Musical Association 113 (1988): 320–22.

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or earlier,32 demonstrates a familiarity with the instrument that may have gone beyond Rameau’s own violinistic skill. It is even conceivable that this challenging obbligato part may have been written for Antoine Forqueray. If that were the case, it would explain the close relationship that appears to have existed between Rameau and the young Jean-Baptiste Forqueray and would also help to explain why Rameau chose to offer a tribute to one or both Forquerays in the title of the movement from his Pièces de clavecin en concerts (Paris, 1741). Rameau’s La Forqueray bears the hallmarks of the Italian style for which both Forquerays were famous. Even so, Jean-Baptiste remains a likely dedicatee for this movement, which may even have been intended as a wedding present for Jean-Baptiste’s marriage to the harpsichordist Marie-Rose Dubois in March of the same year that Rameau’s collection was published.33 Forqueray’s Dedicatees The royal dedicatees for Jean-Baptiste Forqueray’s two 1747 prints were particularly suitable choices. The viol print is dedicated to Madame Henriette, second daughter of Louis XV and Marie Leszczynska. Madame Henriette studied the viol with François-Joseph de Caix le père and was much admired as a musician and woman of letters; sadly, she died of smallpox in 1752 before attaining the age of 25. Like her sisters, Madame Victoire and Madame Adélaïde, she excelled at music and played several instruments. Forqueray’s dedication to her includes the strongest evidence we have of his desire to pay homage to his father, and he indicates that Mme Henriette has helped to bring the viol back from “a sort of oblivion” and “restore to it the recognition that it had for such a long time.”34 The harpsichord print is dedicated to Madame La Dauphine (Marie-Josephe de Saxe, b. 1731), who married the Dauphin Louis on February 9, 1747. The Dauphine herself was an organist and harpsichordist who had a passion for the arts. In his dedication, Forqueray offers thanks to his royal patroness in conventionally florid language, noting that she has been a special protectress of the arts and that he was

32

  Further on the chronology of Rameau’s cantatas, see Mary Cyr, “Towards a Chronology of Rameau’s Cantatas,” The Musical Times 123 (September, 1983): 539–41. 33   Cuthbert Girdlestone was the first to make this observation owing to the musical suggestion of the pealing of bells in “La Forqueray.” See his Jean-Philippe Rameau: His Life and Work (London, 1957), p. 601. In the introduction to the critical edition of Rameau’s Pièces de clavecin en concerts, Opera Omnia Rameau, series I, vol. 2 (Paris, 1996), Davitt Moroney and Denis Herlin further suggest (p. xxxviii) that Rameau may have issued a special printing of the movement for the newlywed couple. 34   “La Viole, malgré ses avantages, est tombée dans une Espéce d’oubli, vôtre goût, Madame, peut lui rendre la célébrité quelle a eue si longtems…”; from the dedication to Forqueray’s Pieces de viole, n.p.

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aware that Antoine’s music would have special meaning for her. He also mentions his gratitude for her invitations to perform his own music at court. The two royal dedications may help to explain why Jean-Baptiste decided to publish pieces whose composition he attributed to his father. The texts of the dedications suggest that choosing Antoine’s music served as a means of keeping his father’s reputation alive, but perhaps equally important to Jean-Baptiste was his desire to contribute to the resuscitation of the declining status of the bass viol. In this sense, preserving his father’s music was a way of preserving the viol’s reputation, which was already beginning to decline. Updating and publishing Antoine’s music with Jean-Baptiste’s own fingerings, bowings, articulations, and chords was a way of demonstrating and preserving what the viol could do, and adding proper-name titles of musicians and acquaintances also demonstrated the support he garnered. At a time when other French composers were publishing solo music that could be played equally well on the viol, cello, or bassoon, Forqueray chose to demonstrate that the viol was capable of feats that no other bass instrument could manage. In that sense, his viol print serves as an archive for the instrument at its highest point. He could scarcely have known that his efforts to combine his own compositional skill with his father’s music would raise questions of authorship that have persisted to this day. Which Forqueray? The question of attribution for the two collections published by Jean-Baptiste Forqueray has drawn the attention of musical scholars for decades. Both title pages indicate that Jean-Baptiste’s father, Antoine Forqueray le père, who had died in 1745, was the composer of the music, and Jean-Baptiste further states in his avertissement that he has added three movements of his own to the third suite.35 However, the music as it appears in both collections bears stylistic features more representative of Jean-Baptiste’s own generation than that of his father, a circumstance that has cast doubt on the attribution to Forqueray père. Other issues also complicate the picture. For example, given the strained relationship between Jean-Baptiste Forqueray and his father, it is difficult to accept at face value the likelihood that Jean-Baptiste was preserving his father’s reputation as a viol player by bringing some of his music up to date and publishing it. To what extent the difficult relationship that existed between father and son affected Jean-Baptiste’s attitude toward his father’s music therefore remains uncertain. Jean-Baptiste’s second marriage to an accomplished harpsichordist, Marie-Rose Dubois, adds another layer of complication that has led scholars to speculate about the attribution

35   The three pieces are identified with an asterisk in the viol print. They are “La Angrave” (p. 18), “La Du Vaucel” (p. 19), and “Chaconne: La Morangis ou La Plissay” (pp. 20–21).

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of the harpsichord transcriptions. In short, the five suites in these two collections may represent the combined work of one, two, or even three Forquerays. A case for Jean-Baptiste’s authorship for all of the viol music in the 1747 print was proposed by Lucy Robinson on a number of stylistic grounds.36 She cites in particular the chromatic and dissonant harmonic language in the viol pieces and concludes that they are in large part, or perhaps even wholly, the work of Jean-Baptiste Forqueray. Among other features that point toward Jean-Baptiste Forqueray’s authorship, she mentions the imaginative use of modulation, unusual sonorities based on combinations of open strings and strings stopped in upper positions, as well as complex ornamentation.37 Notwithstanding Robinson’s conclusions about Jean-Baptiste’s own style being the dominant one in the viol suites, this feature need not necessarily lead us to assume that Antoine had no part in their composition. In his avertissement to the viol suites, Jean-Baptiste states that he has kept the bass line simple, whereas he supplied a more ornate bass in the harpsichord transcriptions. Whether this statement implies that he also composed the bass line for the viol pieces is not clear; he could well have worked from a copy of Antoine’s pieces that lacked a bass line (as many solo pieces for viol from Antoine’s generation did). The ordering of the pieces in suites, as well as formal characteristics (use of the rondeau and traditional dance rhythms), phrase structure, and melodic character are all consistent with viol music of Antoine’s generation. These features can also be found in the surviving viol pieces that can be attributed to Antoine.38 The fact that the pieces in Jean-Baptiste’s print are arranged in suites and exhibit phrase lengths and melodic patterns that are consistent with Antoine’s generation suggests that Jean-Baptiste could well have had access to his father’s music. If that is the case, he would have updated it—even added new material in some cases—and published the result together with three of his own pieces. The authorship of the keyboard transcriptions of the viol suites that JeanBaptiste published has also been questioned. There are no known historical accounts that describe Jean-Baptiste Forqueray as a keyboard player. This circumstance has led some scholars to question whether he could have been responsible for what appear to be highly idiomatic transcriptions for keyboard in the second collection. Because Jean-Baptiste’s second wife, Marie-Rose (Dubois) Forqueray, was regarded as a virtuoso performer on the instrument, it has been suggested that she contributed to the transcriptions in some way, or that she may even deserve credit for them.39 Such a claim to authorship is difficult to confirm or   Lucy Robinson, “Forqueray Pieces de Viole (Paris, 1747): An Enigma of Authorship Between Father and Son,” Early Music 34 (May, 2006): 259–76. 37   Ibid., pp. 268–9. 38   Further on the viol pieces attributed to Antoine Forqueray, see the section on “Sources” in Cyr, ed., The Works. 39   Colin Tilney tentatively proposed that the transcriptions may have been the work of Marie-Rose Forqueray (A[ntoine] Forqueray Pieces de clavecin, Paris, 1970, p. vii), and 36

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refute. Marie-Rose Forqueray was known as a performer on the harpsichord, not as a composer, but the full extent of her talents may not have been represented in chronicles of the day. It is equally possible that Jean-Baptiste possessed enough skill at the harpsichord to write idiomatically for it. After all, he was not the only composer for the viol who published his own transcriptions for the harpsichord.40 The harpsichord transcriptions are full of inventive and imaginative passages that demonstrate a composer’s knowledge of the keyboard and its sonority. Passages in successive thirds, downward octave transposition, changes in harmony, and new figuration are introduced, and the bass line is considerably more decorated than that of the viol print. Certain pieces are reworked almost as if they were conceived anew for the harpsichord. For example, La Mandoline retains the formal shape and melodic outline of the viol piece, but in each couplet the chords are carefully revoiced; syncopations and offbeat figuration are added, along with new triplet figuration; and, perhaps most unusual of all, a new virtuosic and brilliant passage appears in the final couplet that is quite unlike the parallel passage in the viol version. Each of these changes builds gradually into a piece of extraordinary power and virtuosity. Taken together, the transcriptions offer an extraordinary variety of approaches to keyboard transcription, but there is nothing in them that precludes the possibility that Jean-Baptiste Forqueray himself was responsible for them. To what extent his work was supported and facilitated by Madame Forqueray’s talent as a keyboardist, we may never know with certainty. One of the reasons that authorship questions have loomed so large in these two prints is that, of approximately three hundred compositions by Antoine Forqueray that existed at his death,41 all but a few are lost. Of those that do survive, none are among those included in Jean-Baptiste’s published collection. Moreover, many of the pieces that do survive with an attribution to Forqueray are difficult to assign with certainty to either Antoine Forqueray or to Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, since most of the attributions in the manuscript sources bear no more than a surname. In most cases, the sources for these fugitive pieces do not originate from within Antoine Forqueray’s circle, but they are the only evidence we have of Antoine Forqueray’s style independent of the music that Jean-Baptiste published. The most appropriate conclusion appears to be that the Pieces de viole avec la Basse Lucy Robinson argues in favor of the attribution in her notes to Ton Koopman’s recording (Livre de clavecin de Madame Forqueray: Suites I, II, & V, Erato Musifrance 2292-457512, recorded 1990). See the review of this recording by John Kitchen in Early Music 21 (May, 1993): 317–18. 40   The cellist Jean Barrière published Sonates et pieces pour le clavecin … livre VIe (Paris, n.d.) in which the first five sonatas were transcriptions of works in his own Sonates pour le pardessus de viole avec la Basse Continüe … livre Ve (Paris, n.d.). Like Forqueray’s two prints, these two collections were engraved by Mme Leclair. Further on Barrière’s music and his harpsichord transcriptions, see Chapter 11. 41  Forqueray, Les Forqueray, p. 4, quoting an anonymous obituary for Antoine Forqueray, written in 1745, belonging to the Forqueray family papers.

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Continuë represent a combined effort wherein Antoine Forqueray’s compositions and style are present, but his music is represented in a form that was also updated by his son. Performance Issues in the Viol Music Among the many additions that Jean-Baptiste very likely made to his father’s music, there are numerous fingerings, bowings, articulations, and other specific signs such as vibrato. Although Jean-Baptiste Forqueray did not publish a table of ornaments and other signs used in his music, he included an avertissement that offers players some guidance about interpreting the pieces. From his brief statement, we learn several facts about the performance of his music. He tells us that the ideal ensemble for performing the viol pieces is a solo viol accompanied by a second viol and a harpsichord, that he regards his fingerings as essential, that he has indicated accidentals above the mordent (pincé) signs, and that when one accompanies the viol on the harpsichord one ought to keep the realized part in a low register so as not to cover the viol. In his avertissement to the viol print, Jean-Baptiste indicates that the signs he employs will be familiar to viol players from the music of Marin Marais. Nevertheless, he uses some of these signs in unusual, even unique ways. Although Jean-Baptiste does not specifically mention the type or size of viol required to perform the suites, the use of the low A string in a large proportion of the pieces both for melodic passages and for chordal writing presupposes that the solo part will be played on a seven-string basse de viole. Implications of the titles for individual pieces Most of the titles for movements in the two Forqueray prints bear proper names, and a few have character titles. In the latter case, a title’s musical meaning may be relatively obvious. For example, in La Mandoline (IIe Suite), the title appears to be a reference to the successive chords and various types of figuration across adjacent strings, both of which recall the sound of this popular plucked instrument. The titles that include proper names appear in most cases to have been intended to recognize a broad group that includes patrons, writers, musicians, and people with whom Jean-Baptiste Forqueray did business. Most do not appear to bear any specific relationship with the musical characteristics of a given piece. Moreover, examination of surviving copies of the viol print reveals that, of the two issues in which it is represented, only the second issue bears proper name titles. The first issue is represented by a single example that may have have been intended as a presentation copy for Adélaïde, daughter of Louis XV and Maria Leszczyńska. The volume, which bears her royal arms on its sumptuous dark red leather binding

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with gold detail, became part of her library.42 In this copy, there are no titles at all for 23 of the 34 pieces, and the remaining pieces bear only short descriptive titles such as Allemande or La Mandoline. It remains unknown why Jean-Baptiste decided to add proper names to the titles prior to the second issue of the viol print. One other noticeable feature of the added titles is that some titles within a given suite appear to be related, at least in a general way. For example, all of the titles in the Ire Suite can be seen to represent individuals of Antoine’s generation. Likewise, the titles in the Ve Suite represent individuals entirely of Jean-Baptiste’s generation. Since these two suites stand at the beginning and end of the collection, they appear to represent both generations of viol players as another way that Jean-Baptiste may have attempted to preserve the instrument and its music for posterity. Repeats Forqueray’s use of the French rondeau principle raises some questions for players. The rondeau normally consisted of a refrain that was repeated, followed by several couplets, each of which was played once, concluding with a repeat of the refrain (either written out or indicated with a segno). Forqueray’s practice differs from this description in two ways: he normally considers the initial refrain to be the first couplet, so that succeeding couplets begin with the mark deuxième couplet, and he indicates a double bar and two dots at the end of couplets after the segno, which implies a repeat of the entire couplet and refrain. If such a repeat were taken, followed by another return to the refrain, as the form normally implies, the result would be a very long (and repetitive) movement in some cases. It appears likely that, at least in some cases, Forqueray employed the double bar with two dots in combination with a segno merely to show that the music returns to the refrain, not necessarily to indicate that an entire couplet and refrain must be repeated. Inequality The application of notes inégales in Forqueray’s music also raises some interpretive questions. On the one hand, he does not use instructions to the contrary, such as notes égales, which are often found in music by other French composers,43 and he uses French words as tempo/character designations rather than Italian ones. Both of these features imply that inequality should be used in his music. On the other hand, he does not use the words piqué or pointé to specify sharp inequality, and many of 42

  For further description and discussion of this copy and other extant copies of the print, see the section on Sources in Cyr, ed., The Works. The “Adélaïde copy” is presently in the Bibliothèque de France, shelf number Rés. F. 264. 43   Forqueray does employ the direction détaché (as in “La Clément,” IVe Suite) which may carry some implication as to equal note values when inequality might otherwise have applied.

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his suite movements have a decidedly Italianate character (as indicated by passages in triplet notation, wide leaps and arpeggio figures, and figuration with frequent string-crossings). Michel Corrette and other theorists indicated that inequality was not appropriate when playing in the Italian style.44 Corrette’s instructions appear to define Italian music as sonatas and concertos, which would imply that Forqueray’s suite movements, many of which exhibit rhythms associated with French dance rhythms still belong to the French style as Corrette defined it. Certain passages by Forqueray whose character is French appear to be consistent with the application of inequality, but they are relatively rare. For example, the stepwise sixteenth notes in Allemande: La Laborde (Ire Suite), when interpreted unequally, are consistent with Forqueray’s mark noblement et avec sentiment. In many other cases where inequality might have applied, Forqueray uses dotted notation, as in La Silva (Ve Suite, marked tres tendrement in ¢, using white notation with dotted eighth and sixteenth note slurred in pairs). Dotted notation in such situations may be an indicator of the practice of adding inequality.45 An even clearer example where inequality appears to be implied appears in La Tronchin (IIIe Suite), which is notated in 3 with the mark mouvement aisé and in which many passages of dotted-eighth and sixteenth-note figures are slurred in 2s or 4s, both in the viol part and in the basse continue. A particularly telling passage (Figures 12.2a and 12.2b) appears near the end of the second couplet in the viol piece, which is written in eighth notes, whereas the corresponding passage in the harpsichord transcription is written in a dotted eighth-and-sixteenth pattern. In this case, both rhythmic notations appear to imply similar interpretations as notes inégales; this interpretation also would be consistent with the character mark mouvement aisé. For some French theorists, the term louré denotes gentle inequality, but this meaning is by no means universal. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, for example, describes lourer as a “soft nourishing of the sounds, marking the first note of each beat slightly more than the second, even though it is of the same value” (C’est nourrir les sons avec douceur, & marquer la premiere Note de chaque tems plus sensiblement que la seconde, quoique de même valeur),46 a description that appears to negate 44   Jean Saint-Arroman (“Les inégalités,” in L’interpretation de la musique française aux XVIIème et XVIIIème siècles, ed. Édith Weber [Paris, 1974], pp. 76–7), quotes Corrette and others who indicate that sonatas and concertos, especially fast movements whose tempo marks are written in Italian, do not use inequality. 45   The interpretation of written dotted notes as notes inégales is controversial, and eighteenth-century practice appears to have varied from composer to composer. Stephen E. Hefling (Rhythmic Alteration in Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Music: Notes Inégales and Overdotting [New York, 1993, pp. 32–3]) cites examples from the works of Montéclair and Rameau that show written dotted passages as evidence of the application of notes inégales. 46   Jean-Jacques Rousseau, art. “lourer,” in Dictionnaire de musique (Paris, 1768), p. 267. For a discussion of French theorists’ use of the term louré, see Hefling, Rhythmic

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inequality. Forqueray marks louré only once at the beginning of La Dubreüil (IIe Suite). In this case, most of the sixteenth notes (in þ¾) are dotted and slurred in 4s (some in 2s), and the melody contains many leaps; these features suggest that the dotted figures are intended to be interpreted as written. Forqueray’s use of the term louré therefore appears to indicate an emphasis on the first note of each slurred group of notes rather than as a direction for the use of inequality. (a)

(b)

Figure 12.2 Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, from the second couplet of La Tronchin, IIIe Suite, (a) version for viol and basse continue, from Pieces de viole, [1747], and (b) harpsichord transcription, from Pieces de viole … Mises en Pieces de clavecin [1747]. Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Facsimiles, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited Ornamentation Many of Forqueray’s ornament signs are similar to those employed by Marais and other French Baroque viol composers. What sets his music apart from that of his contemporaries in terms of ornamentation is the exceptional density of ornamentation and the difficulty of performing some combinations of ornaments, such as pincés in passages of successive thirds. Vibrato using one finger (plainte) or two fingers (flattement) is marked occasionally in Forqueray’s music, but in general he marks these techniques sparsely in comparison with other viol composers. One-finger vibrato is marked for the fourth finger (for example, m. 2 of La Régente, IIIe Suite), often on the highest note of a phrase, especially when it is an accented note. Two-finger vibrato Alteration, pp. 167–8.

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is even more rare in Forqueray’s music, but like one-finger vibrato, it is used in certain expressive contexts and usually in a slow tempo, as in measure 4 of Sarabande: La D’aubonne (IVe Suite), shown in Figure 12.3.47 Forqueray’s double stem in this case may indicate that two pitches sound together, one played with the third finger (using vibrato) on the a string and the other on the open string d′ above it. Forqueray’s unusual use of one-finger vibrato on the lowest (seventh) string is noteworthy as an expressive device in La Léon: Sarabande (Ve Suite).48

Figure 12.3 Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, Sarabande: La D’aubonne, IVe Suite (Pieces de viole, [1747]). Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Facsimiles, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited The trill (tremblement) in Forqueray’s viol music is indicated by a comma placed after a note head. Its most common placement is on the penultimate note or chord at a cadence, where it occasionally appears as a double trill (as for example in Sarabande: La D’aubonne, m. 1, Figure 12.3). Forqueray marks the pincé (mordent) frequently in his viol music in a variety of contexts: on the final note of a cadence, as a form of metric accent on a note or chord, and to emphasize an important melodic note. The lower pitch within a mordent may be either a half step or a whole step below the written pitch, depending on the tonality. Forqueray does not mark the swell (enflé), and it is not known whether he employed it in his viol playing. In possible situations where it could have been used, Forqueray often indicates instead a downbow (tirez), a gesture that gives an accent not unlike a pronounced swell, as in the second measure of La Rameau (Ve Suite) on the second quarter note (Figure 12.4). In this particular situation, a swell could be applied to the second quarter note (g′), which also requires retaking of the bow for a tirez stroke.

  Further on the techniques for performing two-finger vibrato, see John Hsu, A Handbook of French Baroque Viol Technique (New York, 1981), p. 46; Hsu quotes Danoville and Rousseau about “beating” the higher finger. Hans Bol (La basse de viole du temps de Marin Marais et d’Antoine Forqueray, Utrechtse Bijdragen tot de Muziekwetenschap 7 [Bilthoven, 1973], pp. 255–7) also discusses this type of vibrato. 48   See Figure 6.1, p. 91. 47

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Figure 12.4 Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, La Rameau (Ve Suite), from Pieces de viole, [1747]. Reproduced with the kind permission of Performers’ Facsimiles, an imprint of Broude Brothers Limited Fingerings In Forqueray’s music—indeed in French viol music in general—one finds three different fingering patterns for the normal span of a major or minor third: the “normal” fingering 1–2–4 covering a minor third, the “extended” pattern with a whole step between the first and second fingers (also fingered 1–2–4) covering a major third, and the “contracted” placement (also 1–2–4) which draws the fingers close together covering only a whole step.49 The latter fingering pattern is normally called for in passages that cross strings or in the playing of chords. Forqueray also employs a series of small dots in order to clarify on which string the finger is placed. In the present discussion, these dots are called string indicators in order to distinguish them from other types of dots. One of the specific reasons that Forqueray chose to show fingerings and string indicators in certain passages was to direct the player to play above the frets, in an area of the fingerboard called le petit manche.50 Whereas notes and passages above the frets were often called for on the highest string in seventeenth-century viol music, the use of upper positions on the lower strings was a feature that Forqueray explored extensively.51 In some cases, such fingerings indicate a preference for the special timbre and tone quality of the upper register of the viol owing to the shorter sounding string length and string thickness. Such passages can be found occasionally in Marais’s music and that of other viol composers such as Jacques 49

  Further on each of these patterns, with examples from the works of Marais and Forqueray, see Hsu, Handbook, pp. 27–8. 50   The noun manche in French, in its masculine form, refers to the fingerboard of a viol or guitar. 51  Bol, La basse de viole, p. 184, credits Forqueray with developing this technique and using it extensively on the viol.

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Morel,52 but Forqueray makes greater use of the upper register. Barring of the first finger (doigt couché or coucher de doigt) in such passages may facilitate crossing strings. Forqueray rarely marks the latter technique, but he discusses it in one of the letters he wrote to Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia between 1767 and 1769.53 He notes that passages above the frets are generally played on the top three strings and that playing in that register is less tiring for the hand. He also indicates that playing there allows one to imitate what is played on certain treble instruments (such as flute and violin) and on the harpsichord. Bowings and articulations The wedge (trait) appears with some frequency in Forqueray’s music and in several different contexts: on separate bow strokes, occasionally within a slur, and on either single notes or on chords. In most contexts, Forqueray’s wedge appears to be similar to Marais’s use of the word sec in passages that call for a pronounced shortening of a note.54 For example, in La Clement (IVe Suite), Forqueray marks a wedge on strongly accented notes that skip across strings, on the first note of a four-note slur, and on selected low pitches that require emphasis. In other situations in the same piece, he marks staccato dots on eighth notes that are bowed as successive downbow strokes. In this context, the staccato dots indicate slightly less accent than the wedge mark. Forqueray also adds a performance direction at the beginning of the movement (noblement et détaché), which suggests a tempo that is not too fast and a detached manner of bowing throughout, even on eighth notes not specifically marked as such. In addition to the familiar downbow (t, tirez) and upbow (p, poussez) indications for bow direction, Forqueray uses three different terms that further define the type of bow stroke one should use. These are détaché, marqué, and soutenû. Of these, 52   [Jacques] Morel, I.r livre de pieces de violle avec une chaconne en trio pour une flûte traversiere, une violle, et la basse continuë (Paris, c. 1709). 53   Friedrich Wilhelm II (1744–1797), nephew of Frederick the Great, succeeded him as king of Prussia in 1786; both rulers were exceedingly fond of music. Yves Gérard reported the discovery of five letters from Jean-Baptiste Forqueray in Frederick-William’s papers currently held at the Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Berlin, shelf number BPH Rep. 48 J. Nr. 327. See Yves Gérard, “Notes sur la fabrication de la viole de gambe et la manière d’en jouer, d’après une correspondance inédite de Jean-Baptiste Forqueray au prince Frédéric-Guillaume de Prusse,” Recherches sur la musique française classique 2 (1961–1962): 165. The letters are available in a facsimile edition in Philippe Lescat and Jean Saint-Arroman, eds, Viole de gambe, France 1600–1800: méthodes et traités (Courlay, 2005), pp. 207–24; for an English translation, see Appendix 1 in Cyr, ed., The Works. 54   See, for example, Marais’s “Muzette,” p. 106 in his Pieces de viole … [Ve livre], where the note immediately before a downbeat (often with a chord) is shortened by adding the word sec. In the avertissement to his Ve livre (1725), Marais mentions the word sec but does not further define it (avertissement, n.p.: “Je me contenteray seulement d’expliquer certains endroits, comme le mot Sec. Mais il est assez significatif de luy même.”)

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détaché is the most articulated stroke; it represents a strongly detached and short stroke. The détaché stroke appears, for example, in La Bouron (IIe Suite), where it applies principally to the separate sixteenth notes and to groups of four sixteenth notes that begin with a single note marked with a wedge followed by a three-note slur. Comparison of passages that are marked détaché with those that incorporate wedges shows that the latter mark is by far the stronger articulation. Marqué indicates an accented stroke that equates with the use of dots on individual notes. In La Portugaise (Ire Suite), frequent staccato dots are marked, but even without them, quarter-note chords, unisons, and single notes call for a marked or accented bow stroke. The stronger accent indicated by a wedge also appears occasionally in this movement. Soutenû is indicated only once, in La Boisson (Ve Suite), where it corresponds to a sustained or smooth bow stroke. Forqueray’s intent in this case is not entirely clear with regard to his direction at the beginning of the piece: “les pincés bien soutenûs.” This mark may refer to the mordents marked on double stops. Whereas the mordent or pincé is usually performed as a quick, accented ornament, in this case Forqueray may have intended the mordents to be beaten several times and the notes held in order to connect them within the slurs. Lucy Robinson suggests other possible interpretations for this term as well.55 A distinctive bowing mark found in Jean-Baptiste Forqueray’s music is the use of successive strokes in the same direction within a slur. In certain passages, as for example in sarabandes in particular, the length of bow needed for each of two successive notes in the same direction requires a retaking of bow between the two notes. When this occurs between the first and second beats of a sarabande, the second beat is emphasized not only by the poussez stroke but also by a retaking of the bow. In passages where two notes are marked with the same successive bow direction, the notes are detached by giving each one a separate articulation using the wrist. A similar articulation may be required especially when bowing other pieces in triple meter, or in meters that have triple subdivisions, such as þ¾. Forqueray occasionally marks a p or t within a group of slurred notes. His use of this indication is unique among the French viol composers of the eighteenth century. This technique appears to call for an additional articulation with the third finger on the bow hair, giving the note so marked a slight accent without changing the bow’s direction.56 Examples of this mark are found occasionally within slurred groups of notes and may even be intermixed with rests (as in La Boisson, Ve Suite, penultimate measure). 55   Lucy Robinson (“Forqueray Pieces de Viole (Paris, 1747): A Rich Source of MidEighteenth-Century French String Technique,” JVdGSA 43 [2006]: p. 15n) suggests that it may indicate “that the pincés should never be rushed, or it might mean that the pincés should be beaten more than once.” 56   Lucy Robinson discusses Forqueray’s unusual use of such bowing indications within a slur. For additional examples, see her article, “Forqueray Pieces de Viole,” JVdGSA, especially Ex. 7, p. 17 and the accompanying explanation.

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Chords Two features of Forqueray’s use of chords in his viol music deserve special comment: their unusual density as compared with the works of other French composers for the viol, and the unusual variety of register and spacing of chords. Whereas a few pieces by other viol composers such as Marin Marais and Charles Dollé may feature passages of successive chords of three to six notes, Forqueray’s textures are even more dense. At the player’s discretion (since Forqueray does not indicate precisely where he intends the technique to be used), certain passages of successive three-note chords may be performed en plein (that is, with the notes struck all together), as for example in La Jupiter (Ve Suite, system 4, mm. 7–8). In contexts where the wedge is marked on a three-note chord, as in La Boisson (Ve Suite), it appears to indicate that the chords should be also be foreshortened and played as a single unit insofar as possible, not in broken fashion. The second unusual feature of Forqueray’s chords concerns the way that he expands the number of chords available to the viol player by calling for a wide range of left-hand positions. Lucy Robinson has identified 32 different positions of chords for C major and C minor (including three-note to six-note formations) that are found in Forqueray’s music.57 She also notes that Forqueray uses a total of 260 different chord patterns in his viol music,58 an extraordinary tally that surely accounts in large part for the virtuosity that his pieces demand from the player. Other ways of performing the viol pieces In the eighteenth century, it was customary for French composers to include mention on a title page that pieces could be performed on other suitable instruments.59 At a minimum, music for a melody instrument such as flute was considered suitable to be played on other instruments whose register was similar, such as the violin, oboe, or recorder. Forqueray indicates on the title page of the viol print that the pieces are suitable to be played on the pardessus de viole. Whether he sought to broaden the market for his music by designating this instrument, which was enjoying considerable popularity at the time, is not known. No historical account survives that describes Forqueray as a player of the pardessus, although several other professional viol players did perform and teach the instrument.60 57

  Ibid., Ex. 17, p. 27.   Ibid., p. 27. 59   Further on such designations as used by French composers, see Hans-Peter Schmitz, “Les possibilités d’instrumentation ad libitum dans la musique de chambre française dans la première moitié du XVIIIème siècle en tenant particulièrement compte de la flute et de sa littérature,” in L’interprétation de la musique française aux XVIIème et XVIIIème siècles, Paris, 20–26 octobre 1969, ed. Édith Weber (Paris, 1974), p. 28. 60   These include, among others, Marin Marais, Barthélemy de Caix, and Roland Marais, in addition to several female musicians who performed in public, including Mlle 58

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Given the popularity of the unaccompanied duo for violin in the 1730s and after, and the publication of duos for two pardessus by Barthélemy de Caix and others,61 it is possible that, if Forqueray did sanction performance of the pieces in the 1747 print on pardessus, he may have had in mind a performance on two unaccompanied instruments. Indeed, as Tina Chancey observes, the Six Sonates for pardessus of Barthélemy de Caix are among the most difficult pieces in the literature, and they rival those of Forqueray for bass viol in their demands.62 When attempting to play Forqueray’s music on the five- or six-string pardessus, players may need to choose the pieces that work best, while also adjusting the voicing of chords somewhat, and simplifying certain passages. Another possibility would be to consider transposition, as for example by transposing pieces from the Ire Suite in D minor up a fourth.63 The basse continue part may either remain as written when accompanying a pardessus, or one may play the bass on a second pardessus without a chordal instrument.64 Some thinning of the texture (especially in chordal passages) may be necessary, and some pieces work better than others, but in general the extant literature for pardessus de viole demonstrates that passage work, string-crossings, and multiple stops were employed on the instrument, at least by professional players. Forqueray does not specify what alterations would be necessary in order to play the pieces on the pardessus de viole, but players who are interested in adapting the pieces may find Louis de Caix d’Hervelois’s music useful for comparison. His VIe livre de pièces pour un pardessus de viole (Paris, 1751) and V[II]e livre de pièces pour un pardessus de viole (Paris, 1753) include works arranged from earlier pieces for bass viol.65 In addition to an upward Lévi, her sister Mme Haubaut, and others. Richard Sutcliffe provides details on these and other players and composers for the instrument in his article, “Re-examining the pardessus de viole and Its Literature, Part I: Introduction and Methods,” JVdGSA 37 (2000): 29–30. 61   Tina Chancey, “Gender, Class, and Eighteenth-Century French Music: Barthélemy de Caix’s Six sonates for two unaccompanied pardessus de viole, Part I,” JVdGSA 33 (1996): 78. 62   Tina Chancey, “Gender, Class, and Eighteenth-Century French Music: Barthélemy de Caix’s Six sonates for two unaccompanied pardessus de viole, Part II,” JVdGSA 33 (1997): 39. 63   This suggestion was kindly offered by Tina Chancey, to whom I am grateful for advice regarding Forqueray’s possible intentions on the five-string pardessus. Further on compositional features that need to be considered when transposing an entire piece and the use of transposition in eighteenth-century French music, see Julie Ann Sadie, The Bass Viol in French Baroque Chamber Music, Studies in Musicology no. 26, ed. George Buelow (Ann Arbor, MI, 1980), pp. 136–41. 64   Susanne Heinrich performs “La Silva” on the pardessus on the CD entitled Jupiter recorded by Charivari Agréable Sinfonie (Signum SIGCD008, recorded 1998). See the review by Lucy Robinson, “Les voix humaines,” in Early Music 27 (November, 1999): 675. 65   As Robert A. Green has shown, these earlier works were published between 1731 and 1748; see his article, “The pardessus de viole and Its Literature,” Early Music 10 (July, 1982): 303 and examples 2 and 3, p. 302.

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transposition of an octave, Caix d’Hervelois reduces the number of double stops and uses the pardessus primarily as a melodic instrument. Forqueray states in the avertissement to his harpsichord print that he has retained the original key and low register of the viol pieces order to allow them to be played with the viol.66 A possible performance using this advice would have the viol player discreetly accompany the harpsichord solo part and perhaps even play from the harpsichord part, most likely without a second viol for the basse continue, which might thicken the texture too much.67 The resulting texture of harpsichord accompanied by bass viol would resemble the texture of Rameau’s Pièces de clavecin en concerts (Paris, 1741), where the instruments often double parts that are already present in the harpsichord part. Renewed interest in the viol today and a significant number of skilled performers have demonstrated the great depth, expansiveness, and power of his music, but Forqueray’s own suggestion that it can be played as accompanied keyboard music has largely gone unnoticed. In this more approachable format, Forqueray’s music can be enjoyed by a larger number of viol players, and harpsichordists too can gain a greater appreciation of the viol sonorities that inspired the transcriptions. Concluding Remarks Jean-Baptiste Forqueray’s two prints are each described on their respective title pages as Livre premier, and he indicates in the avertissement to both collections that he intended to publish additional volumes if his first attempts met with success. What that degree of success was we cannot be sure, but certain factors indicate that the two volumes did not meet his expectations. By the middle of the eighteenth century, the viol itself was in decline. Although it still retained some use in small chamber ensembles, as a solo instrument it was being overshadowed by the violoncello. Evidence of the change in taste can be gleaned from Corrette’s indication on the title page of his Methode théorique et pratique pour apprendre en peu de tems le violoncelle dans sa perfection (Paris, 1741) that he has included “a short method specifically for those who play the viol and who wish to play the violoncelle” (une petite methode particuliere pour ceux qui joüent de la viole, et qui veullent joüer du violoncelle). Publishing solo music for the basse de viole at such a time was a risky venture at best, and publishing music so difficult that few of the remaining players could play it would surely have limited the print’s circulation. In this context, the indication on the title page that the viol pieces could be played on the pardessus de viole may have been an attempt to address a market   Harpsichord print, avertissement, n.p.   For a modern edition using this manner of performance, see Antoine Forqueray and Jean-Baptiste Forqueray, Three Pieces for Harpsichord with Accompaniment for Bass Viol, realization by Mary Cyr (New York, 2011). The pieces included in this edition are “La du Breüil” (IIe Suite), “La Régente” (IIIe Suite), and “La Sainscy” (IIIe Suite). 66 67

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of amateurs, since the pardessus had a broader base of players. Nevertheless, JeanBaptiste Forqueray was one of a small number of professional players who were able to keep the basse de viole from dying out altogether, allowing the instrument to retain an unbroken tradition in France until the beginning of its modern revival.68

68

  David J. Rhodes, “The Viola da Gamba, Its Repertory and Practitioners in the Late Eighteenth Century,” Chelys 31 (2003): 36. Jean-Baptiste-Aimé-Joseph Janson (1742– 1803) and Jean-Marie Raoul (1766–1837) played both cello and viol; none of their music for viol has survived.

Bibliography Manuscripts and Archival Sources Berlin, Geheimes Staatsarchiv Preussischer Kulturbesitz, Archives Historiques de Merseberg, Germany, five letters from Jean-Baptiste Forqueray to Prince Friedrich Wilhelm of Prussia, shelf number BPH Rep. 48 J. Nr. 327. Lyon, Bibliothèque municipale, Prin, Mémoire sur la trompette marine (1742), manuscript, shelf number 133670. Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Arsénal, Archives de la Bastille, dossier 10242, fols 371– 383. Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Arsénal, Archives de la Bastille, dossier 10620, fols 367– 367’. Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Opéra, Mémoires pour servir à l’Histoire de l’Académie Royale de Musique vulgairement l’Opéra depuis son Etablissement en 1669 jusqu’en l’année 1758, manuscript, Rés. 516. Paris, Bibliothèque de l’Opéra, manuscript orchestral parts for Michel de La Barre’s opéra-ballet, Le triomphe des arts (1700), MAT. 18/25 (1–42). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Vm8 21, Sébastien de Brossard, Catalogue des livres de musique théoretique et pratique … qui sont dans le cabinet du Sr. Sébastien de Brossard … en l’année [1724], MS 1724. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Vm7 674–675(1–2), Bauyn manuscript [Section III, fols 24′ and 25′ are housed in the second volume of this manuscript as it is presently catalogued.] /R Introduction by François Lesure (Geneva: Minkoff, 1977) /R Introduction by Davitt Moroney (Geneva: Minkoff, 1998). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Vm7 4813, Marc-Antoine Charpentier, Sonate à 8, manuscript parts (2 violins, 2 flutes, basse de viole, basse de violon, harpsichord, and theorbo). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Vm7 1110, manuscript score of Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, four sonatas for two treble instruments and basse continue /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 2005). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Vm7 1111(a–b), and Vm7 1111, four manuscript part books of Élisabeth Jacquet de La Guerre, two sonatas for solo violin and basse continue, and four sonatas for two treble instruments and basse continue. Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, fonds français, n.a. 6355, fols 210–222. Étienne Loulié, Méthode pour apprendre à jouer la violle. Transcription in Hans Bol, La basse de viole du temps de Marin Marais et d’Antoine Forqueray (Bilthoven: A. B. Creyghton, 1973), Appendix B, pp. 282–91.

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Recordings Barrière, Jean, Sonates pour le violoncelle avec la basse continüe, Bruno Cocset (cello), Blandine Rannou (harpsichord), and members of Les basses réunies, 2001 (Alpha 015). Forqueray, A. and Charles Dollé, Late French Viol Music, Wieland Kuijken (viola da gamba), Sigiswald Kuijken (viola da gamba), and Robert Kohnen (harpsichord), 1978 / reissued 2010 (Accent ACC 10008). Forqueray, Jean-Baptiste, Livre de clavecin de Madame Forqueray: Suites I, II, & V, Ton Koopman (harpsichord), recorded 1990 (Erato Musifrance 229245751-2). Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth, Sonates pour le Viollon 1707, Ingrid Matthews (baroque violin), Byron Schenkman (harpsichord), and Margriet Tindemans (viola da gamba), 1996 (Wildboar 9601). Marais, Marin, Jean Henri D’Anglebert, and Antoine Forqueray, Musique à Versailles, Wieland Kuijken (viola da gamba), Sigiswald Kuijken (viola da gamba), Gustav Leonhardt (harpsichord), 1970 / reissued 1990 (Harmonia Mundi 77145-2-RG). Masse, Jean-Joseph, Sonatas for Two Cellos, Book 1 and Sonatas for Two Cellos, Book 2, Brandywine Baroque: Douglas McNames and Vivian Barton (cellos), with Karen Flint (harpsichord), 1998 (Dorian 93222 and 93223). Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Books Ancelet, [first name unknown], Observations sur la musique, les musiciens, et les instrumens (Amsterdam: author, 1757) /R (Geneva: Minkoff, 1984). Bacilly, Bénigne de, Remarques curieuses sur l’art de bien chanter, et particulierement pour ce que regarde le chant françois, Paris: author, Ballard, 1668; second edition (Paris: Guillaume de Luyne, 1679) /R (Geneva: Minkoff, 1971). English translation by Austin B. Caswell, Musical Theorists in Translation 7 (Brooklyn, New York: The Institute of Medieval Music, 1968). Bonnet, Jacques and Pierre Bourdelot, Histoire de la musique, et de ses effets, depuis son origine jusqu’à présent, et en quoi consiste sa beauté, 4 vols (Amsterdam: C. Le Cène, 1725). Brossard, Sébastien de, Dictionaire de musique, third edition (Amsterdam: Estienne Roger, 1705). Brosses, Charles de, Lettres du Président de Brosses, ed. Frédéric d’Agay, 2 vols (Paris: Mercure de France, 1986). Excerpt on music from the letter on spectacles in Rome and another letter dated August 29, 1739 from Venice in Readings in the History of Music in Performance, trans. and ed. Carol MacClintock (Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press, 1979), pp. 268–87 and 360–61.

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Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth-Claude, Les pièces de claveßin, Premier livre (Paris: author, 1687). Edited facsimile: ed. Catherine Cessac and Arthur Lawrence, Critical Facsimiles 9 (New York, The Broude Trust, 2009). Modern editions: Pièces de clavecin, ed. Carol Henry Bates, Le Pupitre 66 (Paris: Heugel et Cie., 1986); Élisabeth-Claude Jacquet de La Guerre, The Harpsichord Works, ed. Arthur Lawrence, with a biographical essay by Mary Cyr, The Collected Works vol. 1 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2008). Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth-Claude, Pièces de clavecin qui peuvent se jouër sur le viollon (Paris: author, 1707) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 2000). Modern edition: Harpsichord Works, ed. Arthur Lawrence, with a biographical essay by Mary Cyr, The Collected Works vol. 1 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2008). Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth-Claude, Sonates pour le viollon et pour le clavecin (Paris: author, 1707) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1999). Modern edition: Instrumental Works, ed. Mary Cyr, The Collected Works, vol. 2 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2008). Also published in Performing Extracts 1, 2a, and 2b (New York: The Broude Trust, 2007). Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth-Claude, Cantates françoises, sur des sujets tirez de l’Ecriture, Livre premier (Paris: Christophe Ballard, 1708) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1997). Modern edition: Sacred Vocal Works, ed. Mary Cyr, The Collected Works, vol. 3 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2005). Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth-Claude, Cantates françoises, sur des sujets tirez de l’Ecriture, Livre second (Paris: Christophe Ballard, 1711) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1998). Modern edition: Sacred Vocal Works, ed. Mary Cyr, The Collected Works, vol. 3 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2005). Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth-Claude, Semelé, L’Ile de Delos, Le Sommeil d’Ulisse, Cantates françoises (Paris: author, [1715]) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1999); Performers’ Facsimiles 225 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.). Modern edition: Secular Vocal Works, ed. Mary Cyr, The Collected Works, vol. 4 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2005). Jacquet de La Guerre, Élisabeth-Claude, Les Piéces de Claveßin de Mad.elle de La Guerre, Premier Livre, ed. Catherine Cessac and Arthur Lawrence, Critical Facsimiles 9 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2009). La Ferté, Charles de, Premier livre de sonates pour le violon et la basse (Paris: author, 1707). Leclair, Jean-Marie, Premier livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue [op. 1] (Paris: author, n.d. [1723]) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 285 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.); R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1986). Leclair, Jean-Marie, Second livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue [op. 2] (Paris: author, n.d. [1728]) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 286 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.); R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1989). Leclair, Jean-Marie, Troisieme livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue [op. 3] (Paris: author, n.d. [1730]) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 287 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.); R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1986).

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Leclair, Jean-Marie, Quatrieme livre de sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue [op. 4] (Paris: author, n.d. [1743]) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 288 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.); R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1986). Marais, Marin, Pièces à une et à deux violes (Paris: author, 1686/89) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 2002). Modern edition: Pièces à une et à deux violes 1686–89, ed. John Hsu, The Instrumental Works, vol. 1 (New York: Broude Brothers Limited, 1980). Marais, Marin, Pièces en trio pour les flutes, violon, & dessus de viole (Paris: author, 1692) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1999). Edited facsimile: Pièces en trio pour les flutes, violon, & dessus de viole (1692) ed. John Hsu, Critical Facsimiles 4 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2001). Modern edition: Pièces en trio pour les flutes, violon, & dessus de viole (1692), ed. John Hsu, The Instrumental Works, vol. 6 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2001). Marais, Marin, Pièces de viole, second livre (Paris: author, 1701) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1994). Modern edition: Pièces de viole, Second livre (1701), ed. John Hsu, The Instrumental Works, vol. 2 (New York: The Broude Trust, 1986). Marais, Marin, Alcione, tragédie mise en musique (Paris: author, 1706). Marais, Marin, Pièces de viole, troisième livre (Paris: author, 1711) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1997). Modern edition: Pièces de viole, Troisième livre (1711), ed. John Hsu, The Instrumental Works, vol. 3 (New York: The Broude Trust, 1996). Marais, Marin, Pièces à une et à trois violes, quatrieme livre (Paris: author, 1717) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1998). Modern edition: Pièces à une et à trois violes (1717), ed. John Hsu, The Instrumental Works, vol. 4 (New York: The Broude Trust, 1998). Marais, Marin, La gamme et autres morceaux de simphonie pour le violon, la viole et le claveçin (Paris: author, 1723) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 49 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.); R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 2003). Modern edition: La gamme et autres morceaux de simphonie pour le violon, la viole et le claveçin (1723), Unpublished Pieces from the Panmure Manuscripts, ed. John Hsu, The Instrumental Works, vol. 7 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2002). Marais, Marin, Pièces de viole, cinquième livre (Paris: author, 1725) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1994). Modern edition: Pièces de viole, cinquième livre (1725), ed. John Hsu, The Instrumental Works, vol. 5 (New York: The Broude Trust, 2000). Marais, Marin, Folies précédées d’un prélude pour la viole (Version originale inédite de 1685), ed. Jonathan Dunford (Strasbourg: Les Cahiers de Tourdion, 1992). [Includes the variations on folie and the Prélude pour la violle et le théorbe from the Panmure manuscripts, with reconstruction of the figured bass by Lee Santana.] Marc, Thomas, Suitte de pieces de dessus et de pardessus de viole et trois Sonates, avec les Basses Continüe.Livre Ier (Paris: l’auteur, 1724) /R (Geneva: Minkoff, 1987). Martin, François, Six sonates pour le violonchelle, y compris un duo pour un violon, et un violonchelle, œ. IIe (Paris: author, 1746).

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Mascitti, Michele, Sonate a violino solo col violone ó cimbalo, opera prima (Paris: Foucaut, 1704). Masse, Jean-Joseph, Sonates a deux violonchelles dédiées a messieurs les comediens françois, œ. Ier (Paris: author, n.d.) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 6 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.). Masse, Jean-Joseph, Sonates a deux violonchelles … œ. IIe (Paris: author, n.d.) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 7 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.). Masse, Jean-Joseph, Sonates a deux violonchelles … œ. IIIe (Paris: author, n.d.) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 8 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.). Masse, Jean-Joseph, Sonates a deux violonchelles … œ. IVe (Paris: author, n.d.). Masse, Jean-Joseph, Sonates a deux violonchelles … œuvre Ve (Paris: author, n.d.). Masse, Jean-Joseph, Menuets nouveaux pour deux violonchelles (Paris: author, n.d.). Mondonville, Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de, Les son harmoniques, sonates a violon seul avec la basse continue … œ. 4.e (Paris and Lille: author, [1738]) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1990). Mondonville, Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de, Isbé, pastorale-héroïque (Paris: L. H. Huë, [1742]). Perrine, [first name unknown], Pieces de luth en musique avec des regles pour les toucher parfaitement sur le luth et sur le clavessin (Paris: author, 1680) /R (Bologna: Ut Orpheus Edizioni, 1995). Piani, Giovanni Antonio, Sonate a violino solo e violoncello col cimbalo, op. 1 (Paris: Foucault, 1712). Modern edition: Sonatas for violin solo & violoncello with cembalo, ed. Barbara Garvey Jackson, Recent Researches in the Music of the Baroque Era 20 (Madison, WI: A-R Editions, 1975). Rameau, Jean-Philippe, Pieces de clavessin, avec une méthode pour la mechanique des doigts sur le clavessin (Paris: author, 1724) /R Performers’ Facsimiles 156 (New York: Broude Brothers, n.d.). Rameau, Jean-Philippe, Pièces de clavecin en concerts avec un ivolon ou une flute, et une viole ou un deuxième violon (Paris: author, 1741) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 1989). Modern edition: Pièces de clavecin en concerts, ed. Davitt Moroney and Denis Herlin, Opera Omnia Rameau, series I, vol. 2 (Paris: Gérard Billaudot, 1996). Rebel, Jean-Féry, Les elemens, simphonie nouvelle par M.r Rebel le père (Paris: author, n.d.) /R with Les Caractères de la danse and La Terpsichore (Courlay: Fuzeau, 2007). Modern edition, ed. Catherine Cessac (Paris: Éditions Salabert, 1993). Rebel, Jean-Féry, Boutade, cette piece convient a la viole, et au clavecin (Paris: author, 1712). Rebel, Jean-Féry, Sonates à violon seul mellées de plusieurs récits pour la viole, livre IIe (Paris: author, 1713) /R (Courlay: Fuzeau, 2006). Sainte-Colombe, [Jean? de], Concerts a deux violes esgales du sieur de SainteColombe, ed. Paul Hooreman (Paris: Société française de musicologie/Heugel, 1983).

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Index

acciacatura, see ornaments accompanied keyboard music 182–4, 186, 203, 225 accordo 137–8 adagio 58–9, 70, 94–5, 138–9, 178, 180, 181, 185, 192, 193, 194, 195, 197, 198, 200 Adélaïde de France, Marie 66, 211, 215–16 affettuoso 94, 95, 178 Albanese, Egidio 23 allegro 70, 73, 93, 96, 123, 125, 127, 128, 129, 130, 195, 196, 199, 200 allemande 99, 100, 154, 164, 169, 178, 183–4, 192, 210, 216, 217 Ancelet 16, 22–6 andante 58, 59, 73, 95, 195, 197, 200 Anet, Jean-Jacques-Baptiste 25 Arnoult, Nicolas 35, 36, 37 arpeggio 116, 123, 129, 200, 217 articulation 22, 59, 61, 65–83, 92, 93, 106, 127, 136–7, 154, 169, 177, 182, 184, 185, 196, 212, 215 in chamber music 73, 180 meter as an indicator of 68–70, 75–6 in orchestral music 66 in solo music 66, 74–8, 221–2 authenticity 3, 4, 7 Bacilly, Bénigne de 97, 108–9 balancement de main 49, 119 Barrière, Jean-Baptiste 25, 112, 123–4, 187–201, 214 basse continue 10, 79, 95, 105, 138–9, 164; see also specific instruments, and tasto solo choice of instruments for 41–3, 55, 68, 73, 81, 83, 181–2, 189, 224, 225 figuring practice 58, 59, 133–7 as indicated in Baroque music 11, 49, 71, 110–12

as indicated in works by Barrière 187, 191–200, 124 Boismortier 100, 121 Forqueray 90, 91, 203–4, 217–18 Jacquet de La Guerre 172–9, 185 Leclair 111–12, 123–5, 129 Marais 74, 77–8, 88, 114, 151–3, 155–8, 160, 168 Martin 127–8, 189 Morin 101–102, 104–105 basse de violon 20, 32, 41, 43, 45–7, 53, 54, 55, 139, 149 bassoon 40–41, 81, 134, 139, 141, 188, 212 batterie 123–4 Baussen, Henri de 177 Berteau, Martin 127, 189–90 Bertin de la Doué, Toussaint 55 Bertrand, Nicolas 12, 54 Blavet, Michel 209 Boismortier, Joseph Bodin de 81–3, 100–101, 121, 188 Bonnart, Nicolas 35, 51–2 Bonnet, Jacques 46 Boucon, Anne-Jeanne 199, 208, 209 Bourdelot, Pierre 46 Bourgeois, Loys 97–8 Bourgeois, Thomas-Louis 90 Bouvard, François 57 bow 22, 65–6 design 12, 15–16, 20, 66, 68, 76 grip 33–4, 36, 50, 57–8, 68, 79–80, 113 bowing 49–53. 65, 98–9, 111, 113, 114, 117–23, 155, 219, 221–3 rules for 51, 68–77, 79–80 Brossard, Sébastien de 35, 54, 86, 92–6, 100, 104–106, 110, 118–19, 122, 137–8, 142, 171–2, 174–6, 181, 184–5 Brosses, Charles de 16, 21–3 Buchoz, Pierre Joseph 87 Buterne, Jean-Baptiste 206

252 Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music Buxtehude, Dieterich 117 Caix, Barthélemy de 198, 223–4 Caix d’Hervelois, Louis de 81, 101–3, 110–11, 150, 161, 224–5 Caix le père, François-Joseph de 211 Campra, André 142, 150, 170 Idoménée 59–60 caprice 154–5 Carbasuo, abbé [François Campion] 25 chaconne 87, 154, 164, 168–9, 212, 221 Chambonnières, Jacques Champion de 7–8 Chapperon, François 148 Charpentier, Marc-Antoine 33, 46–7, 48, 61, 89–90, 130–31, 139, 173, 175 chin stop, see special effects Choquel, Henri Louis 90 clavecin, see harpsichord Clérambault, Louis-Nicolas 57, 90 contrebasse 20, 25–6, 38, 41, 42–3, 45–6, 47, 53–61, 136–7, 188 couché de doigt (barred finger, or doigt couché) 49, 151, 221 coulé de tierce 111 coulé du doigt (slide) 113–15 Corelli, Arcangelo 67, 138, 173, 175, 207 Corrette, Michel 142, 217 cello treatise 79–80, 137, 188, 225 contrebasse treatise 38–9, 57–9, 61, 137 L’École d’Orphée 65, 68, 72–3, 109, 113, 181 Le maître du clavecin 136, 138–9, 173 Couperin, François 6, 10, 18, 21, 27, 81, 90, 109, 121, 133, 134, 147–8, 149, 173–5, 183, 201, 210 Couperin, Louis 47 courante 155, 164, 169, 178 craquer 68, 80 croches blanches, see notation Cupis, François (le cadet) 190 Cupis, Jean-Baptiste (le jeune) 25 dance 18, 27, 31, 35–37, 67–8, 73, 114, 154, 158–9, 165, 178, 192, 194–5, 197, 213, 217 meter of 68, 99, 101–102 research on French dance 27, 86–7

in stage works 18, 31, 152 Dandrieu, Jean-François 106, 174 Dangeau, Marquis de (Philippe de Courcillon) 206 D’Anglebert, Jean Henry 130, 135, 167 Danoville 49–51, 219 Daquin, Louis–Claude 10 Daquin de Châteaulyon, Pierre-Louis 150, 174 Dauvergne, Antoine 25 Delair, Denis 135 Delsart, Jules 10 Demachy 50, 74, 76–7, 108, 109, 151, 152 Descoteaux, René Pignon 206 dessus 31, 33–5, 38, 40, 41, 53, 71, 119, 122, 126, 134, 158 Destouches, André Cardinal 170 détaché (or détachement) 20, 70, 73, 100, 106, 123, 169, 216, 221–2 doigt couché (or couché de doigt, barred finger) 49, 151, 221 Dolmetsch, Arnold 9 Dornel, Louis-Antoine 210 Dubuisson 74, 165 Duc d’Orléans, Philippe II 22, 153, 205 Duphly, Jacques 199 Dupont, Pierre 88, 98, 108, 111 Duval, François 174, 178 dynamic marks 112–13, 177, 184, 192 editing 3–5, 6–7, 8, 10 Elector of Bavaria, see Maximilian II enflé (swell) 77–8, 112–13, 157, 219 equal temperament 143–4 Falle, Philip 165 fantaisie 35, 153 Fel, Marie 23 figured bass 5, 134, 135, 137, 181, 182; see also basse continue fingering 50, 77, 97, 108, 109, 112, 113, 151, 159, 160, 161, 195, 212, 215, 220–21; see also thumb-stop flattement, see vibrato flute 6, 41, 42, 48, 68, 81–2, 83, 134, 141, 142, 154, 173, 183, 195, 206, 209, 210, 221, 223

Index Forqueray, Antoine 77, 112, 150, 161, 205–7, 210–11, 212–13, 214–15, 218, 220, 225 Forqueray, Jean-Baptiste 25, 49, 66, 81, 89–92, 150, 187–8, 203–26 Forqueray, Marie-Rose (née Dubois) 209, 211, 212–14 Forqueray, Nicolas-Gilles , 203, 210 Francoeur (le fils), Louis 11, 130, 178 frémissement (tremolo), see special effects Friederich Wilhelm II of Prussia 66, 221 Furetière, Antoine 33–4 Gatti, Theobaldo (or Théobalde) di 46–7, 54, 149 Gavignés, Pierre 25 gavotte 88, 100–101, 154 Geminiani, Francesco 187, 207 giga 194 gigue 73, 159 grand choeur 40, 42–3, 55 gratioso 112, 192, 194 grave 88, 89, 93, 94, 176, 197, 200 Guersan, Louis 66 Guignon, Jean-Pierre 22, 25, 57, 112, 208, 209 Guise, Mlle de (Marie de Lorraine) 48, 150, 173, 176, 177 Hacquart 165 harmonics, see special effects harpsichord 10, 12, 47, 90, 92, 98, 99, 107, 108, 109, 130, 148, 154, 167, 187, 191, 203, 206, 208, 209, 210, 212–14, 221, 225 as basse continue 48, 57, 122, 133–5, 155, 158, 189, 193, 195, 197–200, 215, 217–18 in large ensembles 32, 41–3, 68 choice of instrument 49, 81, 83 in Jacquet de La Guerre’s music 171–86 realization and figuring practice 61, 135–6 when silent 55, 139, 196 tuning and temperament 141, 143, 153 upper manual (petit jeu) 135, 136 Henriette, Madame 211 Hesse, Ernst Christian 150

253

Heudelinne, Louis 48, 174, 181 Hotteterre, Jacques (le Romain) 88, 142 inequality (notes inégales) 9, 80, 83, 93–106, 169, 216–18 Jacquet de La Guerre, Elizabeth 11, 18, 134, 170, 171–86 manuscript sources 172–3, 175–8, 180–81, 184–6 L’Affilard, Michel 87, 98 La Barre, Michel de 149 La Borde, Jean Benjamin de 46, 124, 205, 206, 207, 209 La Ferté, Charles de 106 La Guerre, Marin de 172–4 Lalande, Michel Richard de 89, 119, 170 Lanzetti, Salvatore 188 largo 58, 73, 93, 94, 194, 195, 197 Le Blanc, Hubert 23, 187–8, 206 Le Cerf de la Viéville de Freneuse, Jean Laurent 17 Leclair, Jean-Marie 22, 25, 88–9, 107, 111–12, 123–5, 127–30 Loulié, Étienne 86, 88, 112–13, 142 louré (or lourer) 217–18; see also inequality Lully, Jean-Baptiste 10, 16, 17, 18, 31, 39, 42, 45, 46, 48, 67–8, 86, 115, 121, 126, 136, 139, 142, 151, 153, 159, 162, 163, 167, 170 Atys 46, 130, 149–50 Isis 118–19 Le mariage forcé 32 Les festes de l’Amour 70–72 Psyché 40–41 Mably, Gabriel Bonnot de 136 manuscripts, as documents for performance practice 7–8, 11, 149; see also Jacquet de La Guerre and Marais Marais, Roland 81, 149, 208 Marais, Marin 10, 11, 27, 48, 50, 74, 81, 109, 112, 113–4, 115, 119, 121–2, 143, 147–70, 198, 205, 208, 215, 218, 220, 221, 223 chamber music 157–9

254 Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music operas 55–6, 119–20, 149, 150 solo viol music 109 Book 1 151–3, 160–61 Book 2 115–16, 121, 153–4, 168–9 Book 3 77–8, 114, 154 Book 4 154–5 Book 5 121, 123, 155–7, 221 manuscript sources 161–7 Marc, Thomas 198 Marchand, Jean-Baptiste 177–8 Marchand, Jean-Noël 177–8 marine trumpet (trompette marine) 124–6, 195 Marmontel, Antoine–François 10 marqué 104–5, 221–2 Marquis de Dangeau (Philippe de Courcillon), 206 Martin, François 25, 107, 112, 127–8, 189 Mascitti, Michel 11, 207 Masse, Jean-Joseph 189 Matho, Jean-Baptiste 47, 55 Maximilian II, Elector of Bavaria 206 Meliton, Pierre 150, 151, 152 menuet 73, 76, 77, 87, 114, 152, 153, 154, 183, 189 Mersenne, Marin 34–5, 45, 53 mesuré (or a tempo) 86 meter (mesure) 75–6, 86, 87–8, 90, 94, 96, 100, 116 Mondonville, Jean-Joseph Cassanéa de 25, 106, 107, 126–7, 183, 188, 190, 208 Montéclair, Michel Pignolet de 25, 47, 54, 55, 57, 88–9, 92, 98, 100, 109, 111–12, 119 Morel, Jacques 48, 81, 150, 221 Morin, Jean-Baptiste 101–6 Muffat, Georg 38, 45, 67–72, 74, 76, 79, 80, 98 musette 25, 41, 99, 155, 183 musical instruments, restoration of 3, 12 mute, see special effects notation, musical French violin clef 5 white (or void) notation (croches blanches) 89–92 notes inégales, see inequality

oboe 32, 39, 40, 41, 81, 134, 141, 195, 183, 223 opéra-ballet 16, 17, 149 orchestra 16, 19, 20, 25, 31–2, 39, 40, 45, 60, 126, 139 Académie Royale de Musique (Opéra) 38, 41, 43, 46, 54, 79, 81, 149 orchestral-style playing 66–73, 76, 79 Petits violons du Roi 31, 39, 40 24 Violons du Roi 31, 39, 67 organ 12, 47, 57, 140–2, 154, 172 as basse continue 49, 58, 81, 133, 135, 138, 175–6, 181 realization on organ 135–6 tremulant 117–18, 122 ornaments (agréments) 19, 39, 49, 51, 65, 66, 70, 76, 77–8, 107–16, 135, 151, 160, 161, 169, 177, 184, 215, 218–20 acciacatura 200 appoggiatura (port de voix) 39, 51, 66, 70, 107, 110–12, 184, 192 coulé 39, 111–12, 116 petite note 39, 110, 111–12, 184, 192, 194 mordent (pincé) 26, 39, 77, 107–11, 215, 218, 219, 222 trill (tremblement or cadence) 18, 26, 39, 66, 70, 77, 107–9, 114–15, 122, 124, 154, 184, 185, 192, 194, 219 turn 70 wedge (trait) 113, 221–2, 223 pardessus de viole 25, 48, 187, 191, 197–200, 203, 214, 223–6 parties de remplissage, see violas partition réduite, see score layout Pater, Jean-Baptiste 68–9 performance practice 13, 16, 26, 31, 34 early history 9–10 historically-informed performance (HIP) 4, 9 issues in French Baroque music 11–13 objectives 3–4, 7, 11 primary and secondary sources 4, 7–8, 9, 21, 38 Perrine 97 petillement (spiccato) 70

Index petite choeur 40, 42–3, 54, 55, 149 Piani, Giovanni Antonio 113 piqué (or piquer) 100, 105–6, 216 pitch 15, 16, 53, 54, 139–43, 153 ton de la chambre du Roy 141–2 ton d’Opéra 141–2 plainte, see vibrato pochette 35, 37 poussez (or pousser, upbow) 49, 65, 72–3, 74, 76, 80, 113, 114, 151, 221, 222 prelude 73, 77–8, 88, 104, 108, 110–11, 114, 130, 154, 158, 159, 164–5 prestissimo 96, 196, 200 presto 96, 178, 185, 196 Prin, Jean-Baptiste 126 Pugnani, Gaetano 23 Purcell, Henry 117–18 Quantz, Johann Joachim 208 quinton 57–8, 197 Raguenet, François 16, 17–21, 22, 26, 54 Rameau, Jean-Philippe 10, 16, 38, 41, 139, 183, 208, 210–11, 217, 225 Traité de l’harmonie 38 Rebel, Jean-Féry (le père) 11, 18, 121–2, 149 recitative 17, 42, 86, 94, 136, 149 recorder (flûte) 101, 122, 134, 141, 142, 223 rhetoric 26–7 rigaudon 183 rondeau 16, 73, 153, 168–9, 180, 192, 213, 216 Rousseau, Jean 47, 49–51, 53–4, 65, 74–7, 79, 109, 219 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques 15, 25, 26, 92–6, 102, 122–3, 127, 131, 190, 217–18 Saggione, Giuseppe Fedeli 25, 55, 188, 189 Saint Lambert, Monsieur de 86–8, 98, 109, 116, 135–6 Saint-Sévin, Pierre Philippe (l=abbé) 188, 209 Sainte-Colombe, [Jean de ?] 47, 49, 50, 148, 150, 151–2, 153–4, 159, 162, 163, 170 Sainte-Colombe (le fils), 165

255

sarabande 90, 92, 99, 101–3, 154, 159, 164–7, 176, 222, 219 Saxe, Marie-Josephe de (La Dauphine) 211 score layout 6, 8, 11, 61, 133–5, 153, 158, 172, 175, 181, 184–5 facsimiles 5 figuring practice 134, 139 partition réduite 6, 55, 56, 60, 61, 120 Urtext 4 sec 221 Senaillé, Jean Baptiste 25 Simpson, Christopher 163, 165 singing style 16, 19–20, 21, 26, 97, 135 Somis, Giovanni Battista 57 Sourches (Louis-François Du Bouchet), Marquis de 206 soutenû 22, 105, 221–2 special effects 107, 116–31 batterie (tremblement) 123–4 chin-stop 117, 127–8, 189 harmonics 107, 116, 124–7, 189, 190, 195 mutes 107, 116, 130–31 thumb-stop 107, 117, 124, 130, 188, 195, 197 tremolo (frémissement) 116, 117–23, 127, 130 spiccato, see petillement staccato, see détachement Stück, Jean-Baptiste 47, 55 swell 22, 77, 94, 112, 113, 114, 157, 219; see also enflé tasto solo 137–9, 184–5, 193, 195, 200 Telemann, Georg Philipp 208–9 temperaments, historical 143–4 tempo (mouvement) 65, 68, 75, 85–106, 112, 114, 116, 121, 124, 135, 137, 164, 175–6, 180, 185, 216, 219, 221 and inequality 98–100, 102, 104 Italian marks for 92–6, 178, 192, 196, 217 meter as an indicator of 86–9 white notation as an indicator of 89–92 tendrement 90, 92, 95, 217 tenüe (hold) 18, 49, 50–51, 151, 161, 168–9

256 Style and Performance for Bowed String Instruments in French Baroque Music theorbo 20, 41, 42, 48, 49, 68, 81, 133–5, 138, 153–5, 164, 173, 206 thumb-stop, see special effects Tillière, Joseph Bonaventure 190 tirade (run) 154, 159, 192, 194, 200 tirez (downbow), see bowing Titon du Tillet, Évrard 46, 47, 54, 148, 149, 158, 170 tombeau 104, 115, 148, 150, 151–3, 154, 155 transcriptions 90, 130, 166–7, 198, 200, 213–4, 217–8, 225 tremblement (batterie), see special effects tremolo, see special effects trill (cadence), see ornament trompette marine, see marine trumpet Verloge, Hilaire 150 vibrato 66 on the viol 77, 113–14, 115–16, 154, 164, 215, 218–19 on the violin and cello 115 Villeneuve, Alexandre 108–9 viol, see also pardessus de viole as accompaniment to keyboard 183, 225 basse de viole (bass viol) 10, 48–51, 53, 65, 73, 81, 90, 100–103, 107–11, 136, 173, 178, 180–81, 188, 190, 203–26 chordal playing 92, 123, 223 in ensembles 13, 31, 41, 42–3, 48, 55, 80–81, 130, 134–5, 136 holding of 25, 51 as rival to the cello 23, 25, 79, 187–8, 212, 225 solo technique 49–50, 74–8, 112–16, 121, 147–70 comparison with violin family 33 construction of 12, 57, 66 pitch and temperament 141, 143–4 treble viol 48, 51–2, 174

use in seventeenth-century 33–4, 47 viola (alto) 38–9, 61, 81 middle parts (parties de remplissage) 6, 31–2, 33, 34, 38–42, 60–61, 71 violin (violon) 5, 15, 20, 22, 36, 66, 79, 88, 107, 109, 126, 163, 197, 198, 200, 209; see also pochette bowing 72, 74, 80–81, 83 in chamber music 48, 101, 104, 154, 158–9, 171–86, 189, 195, 221, 224 comparison with viol 33–4 construction and holding of 12, 68–9 in ensembles 19, 35, 39, 41–2, 61, 71, 80–82 as rival to the treble viol 51 as a solo instrument 11, 13, 23, 25, 57, 65, 73, 74, 111–13, 126, 129–30, 138, 149, 172, 188, 190, 200, 206, 223 violoncello (violoncelle) 39, 45, 54, 66, 209, 212; see also basse de violon as basse continue 41–2, 57, 81, 83, 101, 113, 134, 136 in ensembles 79, 173, 175–6, 181 five-string cello 46, 48 as rival to the viol 23, 25, 49, 187–8, 225–6 as a solo instrument 13, 23, 46, 74, 107, 112, 113, 117, 127–8, 187–201 violone, see contrebasse Visée, Robert de 206 vivace 96 voice 16, 17, 19–20, 22, 48, 51, 73, 81, 82–3, 85, 107–8, 113, 118, 121, 135, 136, 139, 140 basse-contre 17–18, 103–105 void notation, see white notation wedge, see ornaments white (or void) notation 89–92, 217