La Pa i x du Pa r nas s e
François Couperin
Lucy Carolan & John Kitchen harpsichords
François Couperin
(1668-1733)
Lucy Carolan & John Kitchen
I | 1 Allemande à deux
clavecins (Ordre no. 9) [4:03] 2 Solo: L'Evaporée (Ordre no. 15) [1:44] 3 Solo: Le Dodo, ou l’amour au Berceau (Ordre no. 15) [4:18] 4 Muséte de Choisi (Ordre no. 15) [3:14] 5 Muséte de Taverni (Ordre no. 15) [2:17]
Recorded 2-4 September 2002 in St Cecilia’s Hall, Cowgate, Edinburgh Recorded with 24-bit stereo technology Producer and Engineer: Paul Baxter Design & Photography: © John Christ Artist Photo: © Delphian Records Ltd
II | La Paix du Parnasse: Sonade en trio
IV| Concert Royal no. 3 in A
VI| La Steinquerque
6 Gravement [1:44] 7 Saillie: Vivement [1:36] 8 Rondement [1:43] 9 Vivement [1:46]
14 Prélude [1:45] 15 Solo: Allemande [2:34] 16 Solo: Courante [2:14] 17 Sarabande grave [3:24] 18 Muzette [2:27]
24 Bruit de Guerre: Gayement [1:27] 25 Air: Lentement [0:55] 26 Gravement [1:02] 27 Legerement [0:56] 28 Mouvement de fanfares [0:27] 29 Lentement [1:19] 30 Gravement [0:26]
III
| 10 Solo: Le Rossignol en amour (Ordre no. 14) [3:01] 11 La Julliet (Ordre no. 14) [1:46] 12 Solo: Le Carillon de Cithére (Ordre no. 14) [4:33] 13 Solo: Le Petit-Rien (Ordre no. 14) [1:43]
2003 Delphian Records Ltd © 2003 Delphian Records Ltd Delphian Records Ltd 290 Colinton Mains Road Edinburgh EH13 9BS www.delphianrecords.co.uk Special thanks to the Tel: 0845 644 9308 Friends of St Cecilia’s Hall
V | 19 Grande Ritournéle (Concert
Royal no. 8) [1:50] 20 Solo: Le Drôle de Corps (Ordre no. 16) [3:23] 21 Solo: La Distraite (Ordre no. 16) [2:34] 22 La Létiville (Ordre no. 16) [1:39] 23 Menuet en Trio (Concert Royal no. 1) [1:18]
31 Gayement [1:12] Total Playing time [64:30]
The repertoire: who plays what? François Couperin (1668-1733), the greatest French composer of his generation, wrote a great deal of harpsichord music. His four published collections comprise no fewer than twenty-seven suites (or ‘ordres’, as he preferred to call them). Almost all the individual suite movements are written for solo harpsichord, but Ordre no. 9 (Book 2, 1716-17) opens with a sumptuous ‘Allemande à deux clavecins’, and Ordres nos. 14, 15 and 16 from Book 3 (1722) also contain a few movements for two harpsichords. While the Allemande has the two harpsichords playing respectively soprano—tenor and alto— bass, producing a wonderfully rich texture, the Book 3 duos are constructed more simply: both players have the same bass line, but a different treble part: one right hand plays the ‘sujet’, the other the ‘contrepartie’. In other words, they transfer the then fashionable medium of the two-violin trio sonata to the keyboard duo. Couperin himself clearly saw the two textures as alternatives: his preface to L’Apothéose de Lully for two violins and continuo (1725) specifies two harpsichords as another possible scoring — hence our inclusion of La Paix du Parnasse, the trio sonata that concludes the Apothéose, and the early trio sonata La Steinquerque (1692) in this recording. Couperin’s Concerts Royaux (nos. 1-4, 1722) and Nouveaux Concerts (nos. 5-14, 1724), dance suites
described by the composer as being suited for harpsichord either alone or with melody instruments, have several movements with a ‘contrepartie’ that lend themselves most successfully to the two-harpsichord texture. Such a fluid approach to scoring may strike us today as odd, but we should bear in mind some salient facts: (1)
Gaspard Le Roux’s book of harpsichord pieces (1705) provides an optional ‘contrepartie’ throughout, allowing solo harpsichord, two-harpsichord and trio sonata realisations (Couperin would have known and admired this collection);
(2)
almost all of J. S. Bach’s concertos for one or more harpsichords of the 1730s existed previously as melody-instrument concertos;
(3)
last but not least, although the chance of two 18th-century French harpsichords sounding together today is slight indeed — the reason for this may be summed up in four digits: 1789 — Couperin almost certainly believed that enough subscribers to his publications owned more than one harpsichord (composers normally suggested alternative scorings not only for aesthetic reasons but also to increase sales of their music).
“… portraits of a kind …” So much for the mechanics of our repertoire. More interesting, without a doubt, is the inspiration behind it. In the preface to his first book of harpsichord pieces (1713), Couperin refers to the individual movements as ‘des espèces de portraits’ — portraits of a kind — and this description holds good for the three subsequent books, as we shall see.1 The portraits that he coyly alludes to are no ordinary ones, for Couperin moved in the highest circles. His post of court harpsichordist required him to play for Louis XIV, then for the Regent, Philippe d’Orléans, and eventually for Louis XV. In addition, he had connections with the exiled Stuart court at Saint Germain-enLaye, the château of Sceaux (seat of the Duc du Maine), and François Louis de Bourbon, the Prince de Conti. Ordres nos. 15 and 16 present a pair of extended and linked musical ‘portraits’ of this milieu. No. 15 opens with an imposing allemande (not heard on the present recording) named ‘La Régente’,2 and subsequent movements continue to pay homage to Philippe d’Orléans. ‘Le Dodo’ (the 1 In what follows I am much indebted to Jane Clark and Derek Connon’s The Mirror of Human Life (2002), a magnificent piece of detective work that succeeds in explaining all but a few of the titles of Couperin’s harpsichord pieces.
syllables must derive from French dormir, to sleep) is a lullaby sung by Venus to the infant Cupid (‘l’Amour’) to the tune ‘Le Carillon d’Orléans’. ‘L’Evaporée’ (the dissipated one) may well depict the Regent’s undisciplined womanising side: certainly a capricious being comes across in this piece! The musettes that end the suite inhabit the same privileged world. Members of the aristocracy fancied themselves closer to nature when they played the quasi-rural musette, a small elegant bagpipe of velvet and ivory. Choisy was the name of a country house on the banks of the Seine, owned by the Conti family (the Prince de Conti — see below — is the subject of the sixteenth ordre), and no doubt the prince and his guests held outdoor fêtes champêtres of an afternoon to the sound of the musette: the slow hypnotic rhythms of the ‘Musète de Choisy’ conjure up such an indolent scene. The lively ‘Musète de Taverny’ brings us back to Philippe d’Orléans, the main subject of the 15th ordre. The Regent had a country house at Taverny, where he apparently held debauched parties. Might the difference in tempo between the two ‘Musètes’ reflect the transition from the languid post-déjeuner fête champêtre to the eve2 Many individual movements have feminine endings, but refer to male persons: the feminine noun ‘pièce’ is understood but not included in the title.
ning’s increasingly frantic gratification of the senses chez Philippe? We return to the Prince de Conti in the 16th ordre, which begins with another dignified allemande (again not heard on the present recording) entitled ‘La Conti’. ‘La Distraite’ is probably an affectionate portrayal of the prince’s renowned absentmindedness: note how the hesitant rhythm of the opening bars gives way to a flurry of demisemiquavers, and how the ‘home’ key of G minor isn’t firmly established at the start. ‘Le drôle de corps’, the ‘funny body’, apparently alludes to the antics of a member of a Parisian theatrical troupe who pretended to be lame; 3 the prince was known to be very fond of the theatre. ‘La Létiville’ is the one title for which no researchers have been able to provide an explanation; this two-harpsichord piece seems to evoke a pastoral scene, perhaps associated with the Prince de Conti’s country seat. The 14th ordre opens with the magnificent ‘Le Rossignol en amour’ (surely one of the most sensuous keyboard pieces ever written) and 3 ‘Le drôle de corps’ shares an uneven dotted rhythm with another piece from Book 3, ‘Le Gaillard Boiteux’, a depiction of a dancing master with a wooden leg(!) Similar politically incorrect allusions to cripples and crutches can be found elsewhere in Couperin’s harpsichord oeuvre.
proceeds with further depictions of nightingales, linnets and warblers. All these ‘bird pieces’ may have been intended as musical portraits of the Duchesse du Maine and her circle of friends, who were known as ‘Les oiseaux de Sceaux’. Which one sang her heart out as the ‘nightingale in love’, we do not know — but no doubt Couperin did… The muscular duo ‘La Julliet’ could refer to the month of July, although the activities it appears to depict seem unusually energetic for the height of summer. In ‘Le Carillon de Cythère’ we hear bells, sounding from Cytherea, the mythical island of love, and the suite ends with a ‘trifle’: ‘Le Petit Rien’. We don’t know if ‘portraits’ are concealed in the various movements of the Concerts royaux, but they were written for the court and first performed there by Couperin himself along with other court musicians, so a flattering portrait would not have gone amiss. No. 3’s majestic ‘Sarabande grave’, for example, has sufficient dignity to portray the ageing and melancholy King Louis XIV himself, while the lilting ‘Muzette’ evokes another fête champêtre for the privileged classes. From the Nouveaux Concerts, No. 8 has the title ‘Dans le goût théatral’. Here Couperin pays unspoken tribute to his predecessor Jean-Baptiste Lully, whom he revered above all other composers; the stately ‘Grande Ritournéle’ is a perfect imitation of a curtain-raising piece in a Lully opera.
Couperin’s Lully-worship reaches its peak with the massive Apothéose de Lully, for which he provided a detailed narrative. The first few movements take Lully (d. 1687) from the Elysian Fields to the ascent of Mount Parnassus. When he reaches Parnassus, however, he meets Couperin’s other great hero, Corelli, and the two are persuaded to play together in order to reconcile the French and Italian styles — hence the conclusion of the apotheosis by a trio sonata entitled La Paix du Parnasse, in which the two violin lines are labelled respectively ‘Lully’ and ‘Corelli’! The piece falls into four sections, the second of which — a lively fugue — has the heading ‘Saillie’: a leap, or a witticism. Since the subject has both leaps and a syncopation, perhaps Couperin intended both meanings. In the final section he puts Lully and Corelli through their paces with exhilarating dotted rhythms: the Paix may end more triumphantly than peacefully, but it does combine the two national idioms to great effect. La Steinquerque (1692) is named after a French military victory at the battle of Steinkerk, and belongs to a group of early trio sonatas inspired by Couperin’s discovery of Italian music. Although the composer himself specified Corelli as his influence, La Steinquerque does not sound particularly Corelli-like — rather, there are echoes of
earlier Italian composers and of Lully — until the second ‘Lentement’, with its meltingly sweet chains of suspensions in the upper parts. No battle piece would be complete without the imitation of martial music, and in the ‘Bruit de guerre’ and Mouvement de fanfares’ Couperin conjures up the obligatory trumpets and drums. What relation the other sections have to the battle story is not clear, but other battle pieces often include slow ‘laments for the dead’ (the first ‘Gravement’ perhaps?) and end with a ‘celebration of the victory’: an apt description of the final dance-like ‘Gayement’. © 2003 Lucy Carolan
The instruments The two instruments used in this recording are both from the Russell Collection of Early Keyboards, University of Edinburgh; details of them are as follows: Double-manual harpsichord Pascal Taskin, Paris 1769 Originally built by one of France’s greatest harpsichord builders, this most famous of all harpsichords survived the turmoils of late 18th-century France and was restored by Tomasini in 1882. Since then it has played an
important role in the revival of interest in making and playing harpsichords, and has been used as a model by countless harpsichord makers over the last 40 years or so. In the 1890s it was played publicly in the Paris concerts given by the pianist Louis Diémer (1843-1919), who later bought the instrument. During the Second World War it was moved to the Kunsthistorisches Museum, Vienna, but was reclaimed and returned to Paris after the war, and sold to Raymond Russell in 1952. Its appearance and decoration are simple and elegant, and the sound is sumptuous and highly refined. Like most French harpsichords of this period, the lower register is particularly rich and opulent. Double-manual harpsichord Jean Goermans/Pascal Taskin, Paris, 1764/83 This harpsichord has a fascinating history. It is not actually signed by Jean Goermans, although it is dated 1764. However, the construction and soundboard painting style are all typical of the instruments made by Goermans.
Taskin signed the instrument twice “Refait par Pascal Taskin a Paris”, once with the date 1783 and again with the date 1784. Taskin also obliterated Goermans’s signature from around the soundboard rosette, and altered the rose initials from “IG” to “IC”. The altered rosette then looked exactly like the usual Ioannes Couchet rosette, and therefore would have made the instrument appear to have come from the famous Couchet workshops of the previous century. To complete the deception Taskin stained the soundboard dark brown to make it look older. The resulting counterfeit Couchet would then have sold for perhaps ten times the price of a contemporary French harpsichord. Taskin added a knee-lever mechanism called a genouillère and a soft-quilled register called a peau de buffle stop, both to increase the tonal contrasts available from the harpsichord at a time when it was in competition with the new-fangled fortepiano. Despite the nefarious history of the instrument, it is one of the finest harpsichords in any collection. In his dictionary Makers of the Harpsichord and Clavichord, 1440-1840 Donald Boalch says of it “This is the finest harpsichord I have ever played!”
Lucy Carolan
John Kitchen
Born and brought up in Edinburgh, Lucy Carolan played the piano from early childhood and gained an ARCM performer’s diploma at the age of sixteen. Shortly afterwards, she encountered the Russell Collection while studying music at Edinburgh University, became interested in the harpsichord and was subsequently awarded a scholarship to study with Gustav Leonhardt in Amsterdam. Since then she has performed throughout Britain and Europe as both soloist and accompanist on virginals, harpsichord, clavichord and fortepiano, in music ranging from the Dublin Virginal Manuscript to Michael Tippett. A frequent solo recitalist, she has been particularly admired for her interpretation of J. S. Bach and includes all the major Bach harpsichord works in her repertoire. Her 1999 recording of the complete Bach partitas (on Signum) was enthusiastically reviewed - winning five stars in BBC Music Magazine. Since 1991 she has taught harpsichord at Birmingham Conservatoire.
John Kitchen is a Senior Lecturer in Music and University Organist in the University of Edinburgh. He directs the Edinburgh University Singers, is organist of Old St Paul’s Episcopal Church, and is Edinburgh City Organist, with duties centred on the concert organ in Edinburgh’s Usher Hall. For many years he performed with the Scottish Early Music Consort as harpsichordist, organist and fortepianist, and he plays regularly with several other ensembles, covering a wide range of musical styles. He gives many solo recitals both in the UK and further afield, and is also much in demand as a continuo player, accompanist, lecturer, writer and reviewer. He has made numerous recordings, which include two volumes of Victorian organ Sonatas and the complete works of Johann Ludwig Krebs for Priory Records, and two other recordings featuring instruments from the Russell Collection with Delphian Records.
DCD34012