Harmonia Caelestis
Caprice & Conceit from Seicento Italy
 

Charivari Agrèable

Programme

The raison d’être of this CD lies in the overlap of repertory for the cornett and the violin (occasioned by their frequent interchangeability), and in the marriage of both instruments. Of the two, the cornett’s particular appeal, according to Girolamo Dalla Casa (1584), lies in its tonal similarity to the human voice, an attribute poetically likened by Marin Mersenne (1636) to ‘a brilliant ray of sunshine piercing the shadows’. As such it was an instrument particularly suited (often in tandem with sackbuts) to supporting a choir. The cornett doubled, or even substituted for, the voices. In the 17th century it also played instrumental ritornelli in a wind ensemble, often together with, or in place of, the violin. It is common for a title page to specify violin, and the part to mention also the cornett. Cornetts and violins played together in various configurations, but traditionally in pairs. The mixture of the wind and string sound worlds was considered so fetching that Bernardino Borlasca, in the preface to his oratorio Scala Jacob (Venice, 1616), directed that ‘if in the first [choir] are found plucked instruments or strings, in the second should be placed wind instruments, such as cornetts and trombones, and pleasingly tempered by a violin playing the contralto part an octave above. In this same manner [have] a cornett doubling a part in the first choir, if it is a choir of viols’. By following Borlasca’s imaginative performance practice of adding a cornett to a string ensemble and, vice versa, a violin to a wind ensemble, one is ‘assured of obtaining lovely and delightful harmony’.

The juxtaposition of wind and strings is most vividly enhanced by the pairing of a violin with a cornett in small-scale vocal and instrumental works. The most beautiful is arguably the sonata by Cima, one of the earliest trio sonatas. Equally charming is Cavalli’s canzona, which we have interpreted according to the performance instruction of Tomaso Cecchino, who in 1628 wrote that one might perform his sonata ottava ‘with two violins, or indeed with a violin and a cornett’.

The cornett’s paramount importance in civic, ceremonial, and chamber music in the seventeenth century has long been understood, if somewhat understated. The received wisdom is that by the mid seventeenth century the cornett, once the object of the most fulsome praise, had been elbowed into oblivion by the violin, as instrumental writing moved from a vocal style of ornamentation towards figurations which favoured a bowed instrument, and composer-violinists came to dominate instrumental genres. This is not to deny the ability of cornettists to perform musical acrobatics, for they were the true virtuosi of their day, capable of the most demanding musical athleticism. The cornett’s earlier repertory, like that of most melody instruments, was derived from the embellishment (with diminutions) of pre-existing works, such as madrigals and motets. Many examples of this essentially improvisatory art exist, like Terzi’s Contraponto, but rarely one in which two parts are simultaneously subject to diminution, such as Bassano’s elaboration of Palestrina’s Veni, veni. The choice of instrumentation is, and has always been, left to the caprice of the performers. For reasons of sonority, we have opted for cornett, viol, and organ. By coincidence, a similar combination is illustrated in an engraving in the organ part-book of the Opus Aureum Missarum by Samuel Capricornus (Frankfurt, 1670). Here the ensemble, portrayed performing the ‘Kyrie eleison’, is bolstered by a triangle, presumably for allegorical reasons.

The soloistic use of the cornett lasted longer in the German-speaking lands. But there is no denying that its golden age had passed by the end of the century, even if this decline was punctuated by occasional appearances in operas for otherworldly (more often infernal than celestial) effects. Our response to the cornett’s untimely demise is a robust reading of the scintillating suggestion in many instrumental publications: con ogni sorti stromenti. This catchphrase enables us to expand the repertory of the cornett, encouraged as we are by the constant re-defining of that arbitrary cut-off date, as more (and ever-later) works for the cornett surface from libraries. A prime candidate for such an interpretation is the martially triumphant piece by Strozzi, colourfully entitled ‘Masque played and danced by several Neapolitan knights, in the Royal Palace’. This was a keyboard piece musically conceived in three parts, much like the balletti and sinfonie à tre by Farina. The canzona L’Amaltea by Mussi is another contender for alternative scoring. Originally intended for two ‘echoing’ violins or cornetts—in the tradition of echo or pian e forte pieces such as those by G. Gabrieli (1597), G.B. Riccio (1620), and G. Frescobaldi (1628)—we have opted for the treble viol as a more evocative echo to the violin.

Another response is to revel in the creativity of adapting and arranging, in the same spirit of adventure and invention that motivated composers of the Seicento. This is an historical practice which spans a wide spectrum of techniques ranging from adaptation (from one idiom to another) to the contrivance of a pastiche. Piccinini’s Chiaccona Cappona alla vera Spagnola was published as a lute solo, but many passages suggest that it is a rather unsuccessful arrangement of a guitar piece. The title may have come from the 5-course guitar, known in Italy as the ‘chitarra spagnola’, or the piece may have originated with Alessandro’s brother Filippo, lutenist at the royal court in Madrid for many years. The piece is printed in triple time, but the stresses fall in alternate groups of 5 and 7 beats. This may reflect the mysterious ‘Cappona’ of the title, which is possibly a caricature of the lumbering walk of an obese capon or more likely a castrato. In reconstructing our guitar version we have not hesitated to use idiomatic guitar techniques such as block chords, rasgueado, and campanellas where these made sense of the otherwise puzzling texture of the original. A viola da gamba supplies the bass which would have been readily available on Piccinini’s lute. Plucked instruments seem to have inspired more than their fair share of adaptation. Several theorbo sonatas by Giovanni Pittoni were furnished with basso continuo parts, and an anonymous violin part was later added. We have adopted the same practice with Picchi’s ‘Polish’ Ballo by adding bass and treble parts to the flamboyant keyboard solo.

Like the painstaking detective work involved in a reconstruction, careful weaving of disparate strands  of original material is required for a pastiche. The piecing together of the Ciaccona and Bergamasca pastiches has been a cathartic and creative process which benefited from an intimate knowledge of the compositional practice of the period, whilst allowing us to share with our audience the essence of our ensemble philosophy. The Bergamasca explores new sonorities afforded by the notion of con ogni sortI stromenti or
free instrumentation whilst incorporating some of the best Bergamasca settings in an inventive manner. The Ciaccona ground bass is based on one in the Chigi MSS (of the Vatican Library) subsumed into the modulatory framework of another by Antonio Bertali, and takes a cue from Stradella’s Sinfonia, in which the bass diverges to form two separate parts.

It is hoped that our conceit of re-lighting the cornett’s gleam will find favour among those who delight in the capriciousness of the music of the Seicento.

Kah-Ming Ng, May 2004