Quousque non reverteris pax by Claudin de Sermisy
I hope you are as well as you can be, and that amidst the noise and turmoil and fears you are somehow carving out space for quiet and reflection and hope. And for music.
Today's motet is part of the so-called Newberry Partbooks, an elegant Florentine manuscript from the late 1520's containing a collection of motets and madrigals. The manuscript has a fascinating history in its own right--it appears to have been a gift to Henry VIII, for one thing--but it also itself is a product of history, specifically of the turmoil produced in Italy by the sack of Rome in 1527 and, following close on its heels, the expulsion of the Medici from Florence and the takeover of the city by fundamentalist republicans.
Many of the motets (and some of the madrigals) in the manuscript address the fears and longings and uncertainties arising from these events, and today's motet is one of these. It's called 'Quousque non reverteris pax', by the French composer Claudin de Sermisy (c. 1490-1562). The motet is non-liturgical--an 'occasional motet'--and would likely have been sung not in church but rather in a social setting among the wealthy, educated class.
It is a hymn to and a prayer for peace, and though we are half a world and half a millennium distant,
it seems to me not inapplicable to our current situation:
When wilt thou return, lost peace, to the French?
Peace, the solace of good people,
always hateful to the powerful.
When wilt thou descend, heavenly grace,
which brings forth the olive branch of peace for this realm, so that concord may flourish?
Return, most holy peace, to our land.
And give us back our lily,
torn up by its roots and surrounded by thorns
Give us, Lord, thy peace, so long desired,
and have mercy on thy groaning people.
Have mercy, we pray, Lord God.
Claudin has provided a passionate madrigalian setting entirely appropriate to the poem, and we are fortunate to have an excellent recording by Magdala (directed by David Skinner), from an anthology which includes fifteen of the thirty motets from the Newberry Partbooks.
If things had gone differently, Circa 1600 would have performed this wonderful motet as part of our April concert set, 'Pierre Attaingnant and the City of Light'; I'm delighted to be able to share it with you now in this very different context.
I hope you are as well as you can be, and that amidst the noise and turmoil and fears you are somehow carving out space for quiet and reflection and hope. And for music.
Today's motet is part of the so-called Newberry Partbooks, an elegant Florentine manuscript from the late 1520's containing a collection of motets and madrigals. The manuscript has a fascinating history in its own right--it appears to have been a gift to Henry VIII, for one thing--but it also itself is a product of history, specifically of the turmoil produced in Italy by the sack of Rome in 1527 and, following close on its heels, the expulsion of the Medici from Florence and the takeover of the city by fundamentalist republicans.
Many of the motets (and some of the madrigals) in the manuscript address the fears and longings and uncertainties arising from these events, and today's motet is one of these. It's called 'Quousque non reverteris pax', by the French composer Claudin de Sermisy (c. 1490-1562). The motet is non-liturgical--an 'occasional motet'--and would likely have been sung not in church but rather in a social setting among the wealthy, educated class.
It is a hymn to and a prayer for peace, and though we are half a world and half a millennium distant,
it seems to me not inapplicable to our current situation:
When wilt thou return, lost peace, to the French?
Peace, the solace of good people,
always hateful to the powerful.
When wilt thou descend, heavenly grace,
which brings forth the olive branch of peace for this realm, so that concord may flourish?
Return, most holy peace, to our land.
And give us back our lily,
torn up by its roots and surrounded by thorns
Give us, Lord, thy peace, so long desired,
and have mercy on thy groaning people.
Have mercy, we pray, Lord God.
Claudin has provided a passionate madrigalian setting entirely appropriate to the poem, and we are fortunate to have an excellent recording by Magdala (directed by David Skinner), from an anthology which includes fifteen of the thirty motets from the Newberry Partbooks.
If things had gone differently, Circa 1600 would have performed this wonderful motet as part of our April concert set, 'Pierre Attaingnant and the City of Light'; I'm delighted to be able to share it with you now in this very different context.