When Jean-Henri D'Anglebert (1635-1691) published his Pièces de Clavecin in 1689, he found he had a few pages to spare. He filled some of them up, according to his preface, with some arrangements of popular tunes, but he also dusted off some organ pieces in order to give some idea of "what he used to do at the organ". He had been a church organist during the 1660's, but it seems just as likely that he composed or arranged these pieces specifically for this collection. Absent this serendipity, we would have no organ music at all by D'Anglebert; no other organ pieces seem to have survived.
There are five fugues on a single subject, as well as a unique "Quatuor" requiring the performer to play on three manuals plus pedals simultaneously, using the technique now known as "thumbing". The fugues are a remarkable tour de force in terms of their composition, but even more for their ornamentation. D'Anglebert cultivated a distinctive vocabulary of ornaments that are reasonably familiar in the harpsichord repertoire, but decidedly unusual when applied to the organ music. These are probably the most heavily ornamented fugues ever penned. While it is certainly possible that D'Anglebert added ornaments when he prepared these pieces for publication, the musical context dictates that we have to regard them as authentic regardless of their difficulty.
The listener may find these pieces difficult, too. We are not accustomed to such elaborate detail in three or four voices at once. But the study of these fugues—starting with the first one and following the development of the subject all the way to the end of the fifth—is immensely rewarding. Also, in the event any of our listeners may have made the mistake of regarding D'Anglebert as just another composer of frivolous, tinkly harpsichord pieces, the five fugues should be a revelation.
The registration of the fugues is not specified, nor is the tempo. But D'Anglebert himself stated they were to have different "movements" (meaning, presumably, that they should differ in tempo, pulse, or feeling), and the writing of each one suggests particular registrations.
The first fugue is typical of the French Classical organ school, a true "fugue grave", and right at home in a Jeu de Tierce or Trompette registration. I chose the Jeu de Tierce in order to establish the serious but elevated tone of the subject, and I found this registration is effective in starting off the action in a serene but melancholy mood. It should be immediately obvious to any listener that this is not the sort of fugue that Bach would have written. It is at once freer in form and less piquant in content.
The middle fugues explore different possibilities of the subject, which remains serious, but becomes increasingly troubled and anxious. The different movements, form, and tessitura lead easily to registrations that are typical of the period and musically effective, though not always typical of ordinary fugues. The fourth fugue has several passages that could be interpreted as pedal parts, but I adopted the expedient of playing most of this fugue down an octave on the Clairon of the Positif, and taking the parts requiring emphasis on the Trompette of the Grand Orgue, coupled to the Positif. In each fugue, new relationships appear. The musical effect builds from one fugue to the next, proving that these pieces should be performed together.
There can be no doubt that the final fugue is intended for the Grand Jeu. Marching relentlessly (the technique of marching in triple meter seems to have died out in later centuries), it grows and develops into a massive apotheosis, with new harmonies. There are fewer voices in this fugue, and they are disposed in a way that is characteristic of Grand Jeu writing. D'Anglebert uses rather similar compositional techniques in his harpsichord chaconnes, though with a completely different tessitura. Toward the end, the initial mordent of the subject appears written out in crochets for greater emphasis, and we find an obvious pedal part descending to Contra-A, calling for the biggest and deepest reeds we can find, in a heroic cadence.
This music is dramatic and emotive, though serious throughout. It is in much the same vein as the lofty dramas of Corneille or Racine, wherein we share the hero's suffering and are thus enobled in his triumph. (Whether the hero wins or loses, lives or dies, he has triumphed over his own failings, not to mention the audience, by the time the curtain falls.) We are not used to thinking of organ music of the French Baroque in such terms, but the same sense of drama pervades all of the longer forms of music, regardless of instrumentation. Even harpsichordists are not immune to this influence, try as they may. In the age of Lully, all serious music was dramatic.
For a good selection of D'Anglebert's music for harpsichord, see our page of realizations for the Hpschd SoundFont.