The Port-Royal was
a refounded Cistercian convent (from the thirteenth century)
in Paris. One of Charpentier’s sisters, Marie, was a nun there,
which is the best we can do now to explain the composer’s connection
with it. We can assume, though, that the works to be heard on
this appealing CD were first performed in the splendid little
Baroque church in the convent. They were written in the mid-1680s,
after a number of moves and vicissitudes for the communities
of Port-Royal… by that time there were two sites for the establishment;
senior figures had been seriously ill and relations with ‘competing’
factions of the wider Catholic church establishment were confused,
or worse.
It is possible to
see the sublime, gentle, persuasive and intimate music on this
CD as a balm to respond to these troubles. It is lovely music
and can be appreciated without this background. Yet there is
a restraint and focus both in Charpentier’s writing and in the
concentrated, almost inward-looking, performances of Chapuis,
Moquet and Les Demoiselles de Saint-Cyr (a choir of ten women’s
voices) under Emmanuel Mandrin which make better sense when
one knows that this music was written for specific people in
specific circumstances. And that such a response by Charpentier,
if a little uncharacteristic, couldn’t but have provided solace
to those who first performed and heard it. It is in this spirit
that these unself-conscious and enthusiastic performers have
approached it – with very pleasing results.
The main and longest
work, the Mass, is unusual in that, as written, it consisted
of both the five movements from the ‘Ordinary’ (Kyrie,
Gloria etc.) and interleaved sections for Saints Francis
and Margaret, the first names – respectively – of the then Archbishop
of Paris and abbess at Port-Royal. For this recording, Mandrin
includes the movements in honour of St Francis… an Introit
(which precedes the Kyrie), a Gradual (after the
Gloria), an Offertory (before the Sanctus)
and a Communion just before the Domine Salvium
(H.290, a prayer for Louis XIV). Also added is Charpentier’s
O Salutaris hostia (H.126); although neither this nor
H.290 is listed separately as such in the accompanying booklet
or ‘sleeve’.
The mass is largely
monodic and unusually austere for Charpentier. One senses a
mood of sobriety; there is a lack of flourish and absence of
celebration. This dourness is accentuated by the prominent role
for the organ (on this recording it’s one in Houdan, rebuilt
by the organ maker to the king, from the 1730s). Its entries
and improvised couplets were left to the seventeenth century
organist. What an inspiring, dignified and quietly moving job
Michel Chapuis does on this recording. The Magnificat
also has a wonderful organ solo at the very end, which is worth
waiting the whole nearly seventy minutes of this CD for!
The rest of the
performers, too, show measured ardour, perceptive clarity and
an underplayed expressiveness, which seems as though it’d be
close to what Charpentier would have wished for, had he been
directing.
There’s a simplicity
to their approach, which conceals great control and self-awareness.
It’s evident not only in the mass, but the other pieces: the
Laudate Dominum (H.182) is brief but fittingly fulsome;
the Ave Maris Stella (H.63) alternates organ and voices
to great effect; Veni Creator (H.69) makes a splendid
opening to this CD… the sense of a light shining in a dimmed
church; Flores o Gallia (H.342) in praise of St. Teresa
is strangely Italianate and makes striking use of dissonance.
Lastly, the Magnificat
(H.81) achieves its melodic impact by a ‘reduced’ texture and
by the use of fauxbourdon. In fact, the relationship
between soloists and chorus makes for a spectacular tension
that supports well the liturgical function of this piece. There
is nothing perfunctory or ‘worn’ about the way these players
and singers approach this music. It’s a performance with a freshness
born, perhaps, of a detachment from the music analogous to the
almost impersonal power with which the composer conceived it.
Light there is: but Charpentier is standing behind the torch
rather than in its light.
The recording is
appropriately intimate and unshowy. Only the sole male voice,
‘celebrant’ Jean-Luc Rayon, might have benefited from being
more closely miked. One can do no more than infer from an acknowledgement
in the liner notes of the co-operation from the relevant ‘Département’
that the recording – which appears to be the first of a series
– was made at the 1996 ‘Jeux d’Orgues
en Yvelines’ festival under the auspices of ADIAM 78 (Association
d'Information et d'Action Musicales et chorégraphiques des Yvelines).
The booklet contains
useful descriptions of the works, though one would have welcomed
more on the musicians. The texts are reproduced in French, Latin,
English and Spanish. If you want to extend your collection of
French Baroque choral music, add to what you have of Charpentier’s
in particular and/or just want to enjoy outstanding choral music
performed with conviction, then you can safely buy this CD.
Mark Sealey
