Until the discovery of the Lilly autograph, knowledge about Charpentier’s theoretical activities was limited to a few comments in early eighteenth-century sources, and to three manuscripts from the early 1690s in the hand of Étienne Loulié, Charpentier’s longtime colleague. Our whole way of thinking about Charpentier as a theorist must be revised, because it is now possible to study the evolution of Charpentier’s thought.
The Charpentier autograph manuscripts at the Bibliothèque nationale de France (known as the Mélanges, they are available as facsimiles published by Minkoff, Geneva) reveal that for over thirty years he filed his autograph scores away into two series of notebooks, cahiers, made of large-format paper. He gave Arabic numbers to the notebooks containing his "ordinary" creations and Roman numerals to the ones with his "extraordinary" commissions. As he added each new notebook to the appropriate series, he numbered it consecutively, in the upper left-hand corner.(10) The Lilly autograph reveals that Charpentier observed the same logic for his theoretical writings, as he did for his scores: he wrote "XLI" in the upper left-hand corner of folio 1 recto. (Courtesy Lilly Library, Indiana University, Bloomington, Indiana)
It is tempting to call the little manuscript "Point d'harmonie sans tierce,"(11) which is the heading that runs across the top of the first page. However, since many pieces in the Charpentier Mélanges are title-less, it seems likely that he did not give the little manuscript a name. For this reason, I am calling it by its number: manuscript "XLI." (We will see, below, that the author of the Traité called it “Principes”; but there is no evidence that this title originated with Charpentier himself.)
Thanks to this Roman numeral, we learn that in addition to composing, Charpentier had been compiling a rather sizeable series of theoretical writings, most or all of them presumably written by him. Keeping in mind the content of Étienne Loulié’s pile of handwritten rough drafts, methods, extracts from published sources, definitions, and so forth (more than 800 pages in all),(12) should I be cautious and propose that some of the numbered manuscripts were written by Charpentier while others were copies of the works of others, and/or notes jotted down about someone else’s writings? I do not think that such caution is merited. The works in the Mélanges appear to have been Charpentier’s own compositions; in the absence of compelling evidence to the contrary, it seems unlikely that he would have included the works of outsiders among his numbered treatises. Whether all the manuscripts were polished, final versions, or whether many of them, like Loulié’s, remained in draft form, can only be surmised. It is, however, very clear that the Lilly autograph is not a preliminary draft; it is a fair copy, and perhaps even a final copy.
If the Lilly autograph is in fact Charpentier’s forty-first theoretical work, then most of his theoretical manuscripts have either been lost or have yet to be identified. (In the next section of this part, we shall see that a few of Charpentier’s theoretical writings survive in the form of copies made by Etienne Loulié, a musician and theorist who worked closely with him from the 1670s to the mid- or late-1690s.)
Forty-one theoretical manuscripts? At first glance, the number seems implausible, if not impossible — especially in view of the total number of compositions, part-books, and scores that Charpentier produced and copied out in the space of thirty-odd years. But on second thought, is that number really implausible? In less than a decade, Loulié conducted time-consuming acoustical experiments under the aegis of the Academy of Sciences, did extensive research into the music of the Ancients, wrote three books, and drafted twenty-nine theoretical manuscripts, most of them considerably longer than the Lilly autograph.(13)
For a while, I balanced between belief and incredulity, at the thought of so many manuscript treatises. Belief won out, and I am climbing out on a limb here and arguing that Marc-Antoine Charpentier did indeed write at least forty-one theoretical manuscripts.
It is significant that no little bundle of theoretical works is mentioned in the "Mémoire" of Charpentier's manuscripts drawn up in 1726. His heirs apparently did not preserve these treatises. Did they perhaps distribute them to his friends and associates? That same Mémoire does, however, mention a manuscript mass by Beretta. That particular manuscript includes a brief analysis by Charpentier of Beretta’s harmony. Thus we know that Charpentier was working on musical theory by 1682, at the latest.14 This analysis of Beretta's music could, however, scarcely have been included among the forty-one theoretical manuscripts, because it is an integral part of the Beretta manuscript.
In short, Charpentier was far more of a theorist than was hitherto imagined, constructing a vision of him based on the Beretta analysis and the three copies of manuscripts preserved by his colleague Loulié. His contemporaries doubtlessly were thinking of these theoretical activities when they described him as "savant," as a "théoricien."15 With the discovery of manuscript "XLI," Charpentier emerges as one of the leading French theorists of the late seventeenth century. In fact, he now stands beside his onetime colleague, Étienne Loulié, as one of the pivotal figures in French seventeenth-century musical theory. Catherine Cessac has written about the Règles de Composition par Mr Charpentier, one of Charpentier's surviving treatises: "... le traité de Charpentier, tout comme son oeuvre, se situe dans cette période transitoire et capitale de l'évolution du langage musical, où la modalité des anciens et la tonalité naissante coexistent et s'enrichissent mutuellement."(16) If it can be proved that the Lilly autograph was not only copied out by Marc-Antoine Charpentier, but was also written by him, her words will apply to that treatise as well.
The forty lost theoretical works almost certainly included three texts that Charpentier drew up in the early 1690s. Two of these texts are closely related to the education of Louis XIV’s nephew, Philippe II d’Orléans, Duke of Chartres, in which both Étienne Loulié and Marc-Antoine Charpentier participated for several years.
From 1691 through the late 1690s, Loulié and Charpentier exchanged ideas, theoretical insights, and methodology in what amounted to an intellectual osmosis. As a result it is sometimes difficult to discern where the activities of one man end and those of the other begin. Difficult, but not impossible — as Part III of this Musing will demonstrate.
The Chartres project was being elaborated in 1688, and by July of that year the fourteen-year-old prince’s preceptor was able to present a written-out program of the course of study on which the youth would soon embark. The goal was to produce an enlightened prince. Chartres, a talented but impatient and imperious boy, would be shown the “principles of things,” les principes des choses, the “elements,” les éléments. He would learn by “examples” that would “make him want to pay attention to what he is supposed to do.” Each lesson would begin with a definition and would continue with a very brief discussion of the principle being studied. After that the teacher would show the prince some concrete examples that demonstrated that principle.(17)
Loulié was the prince’s first music teacher. He began by teaching him the rudiments (or "elements") of musical notation, and then they moved on clefs, scales, transposition, meter, and beating time. Chartres presumably began these lessons circa 1688; he probably began playing instruments — perhaps the recorder and the viol, for which Loulié prepared a set of methods. Chartres is known to have continued his instrumental studies into his adult years.
In August 1689, the prince was introduced to the more theoretical side of music: music as a branch of mathematics. This course was taught jointly by Loulié and a brilliant, hearing-impaired mathematician named Joseph Sauveur. During the course, the prince learned la raison des accords, le rapport des consonances, and he examined echos and some basic instruments such as the monocord and trompette marine. The different stages of the prince’s studies were presented in a book that Loulié published in 1696 and dedicated to Chartres: Les Éléments ou principes de musique.(17A)
The prince’s teachers were expected to make his schooling pleasant, to keep him in good humor, and to “banter (badiner) while studying, but with circumspection.” They talked with him at meals about the subject being studied, and they made sure that he was “not led by force” but by curiosity.(18) These constraints shaped his teachers’ approach: they focused on producing the briefest possible statements of the principles being taught, and they used examples to demonstrate each point. A description of the prince at the time of these lessons not only sheds light on the young man with whom first Loulié, and then Charpentier, would work, it also reveals the diligence shown by the prince’s teachers:
"[Chartres] est un prince fort accompli pour son âge, bien fait et agréable de sa personne, d’un air noble et plein d’attraits ... d’ailleurs d’un esprit vif, insinuant qui témoigne déjà beaucoup de pénétration, de justesse et de discernement. ... Comme on a eu soin de bonne heure à mettre auprès de lui des personnes propres à lui former les moeurs et l’esprit, à l’instruire dans toutes les connoissances dignes de l’application d’un prince de cette naissance, et qui y apporterent un attachement particulier, ainsi ont-ils le bonheur de voir que le beau et heureux génie de leur élève y a répondu hautement, et a surpassé même leur attente et celle du public."(19)
That same year, 1690, the preceptor’s plans were unexpectedly turned on end: Chartres would be going off the northern frontier with the royal army in the spring of 1691. For all intents and purposes, his formal education ended that spring; but he found time to study composition with Marc-Antoine Charpentier. The course probably took place between November 1692 and May 1693 (20); its fruit was an opera, Philomèle, performed several times in 1694.
Loulié’s numerous rough drafts of counterpoint methods
suggest that it was originally he, not Charpentier, who was supposed to
teach composition to Chartres — and had perhaps already begun teaching
him the rudiments of that art — and that he was thinking of publishing a
composition method dedicated to the prince.(21) But by 1693 Loulié had
been assigned a different task: he was acting as Sauveur’s “ears” in the
acoustical research being conducted under the aegis of the Academy of
Sciences. For most of the time until his death in 1702, Loulié worked
Loulié’s writings about composing according to the rules of counterpoint and Charpentier’s rules on composition are of course separate endeavors. Still, the former is closely linked to the latter; and both ventures doubtlessly overlap here and there. For example, on a page titled “Suitte des Règles de Contrepoint simple” — a page laid out very much like Charpentier’s Règles (see Part III of this Musing) — Loulié referred to Charpentier: ... "c’est ce que Mr Charpentier appelle Demi ton favory,...," it’s what Monsieur Charpentier calls the demi-ton favori.(23)
The above brief sketch of the education of the Duke of Chartres suggests why Loulié was so interested in Charpentier’s writings on composition and music theory, and especially any texts that had to do with the Duke. Indeed, that doubtlessly is why Loulié sat down and, under three separate titles, copied out some of his colleague’s writings.
The first of the three manuscripts is what Loulié called the Règles de Composition par Mr Charpentier. (Charpentier himself probably had nothing to do with the title.(24)) As best I can deduce, these “Rules,” were drawn up circa 1691, or even a bit earlier. Charpentier could, of course, have drafted the text at any point after the summer of 1688, when the educational program for the Duke of Chartres was being created and candidates for positions were being asked to demonstrate their mastery of their subject. After all, it was one thing to practice an art, as Charpentier had been doing for some twenty years for some of the most esteemed patrons in Paris; but it was another to be able to “reason” about every aspect of that art and to present that reasoning as concise “principles” or “elements” to be learned by a restless but gifted prince. In short, “circa 1691" is a plausible date for the drafting of these composition rules. (Using the paper as a guide to dating, I have proposed that Loulié made his copy of the Règles before 169425; be that as it may, the date of this copying reveals more about Loulié’s activities and interests, circa 1693, than it does about Charpentier’s, circa 1693.)
Loulié valued his copy of Charpentier’s text so highly that he eventually protected it with a blank outer cover (the paper is different from the rest of the cahier) and wrote: Regles de Composition par Monsieur Charpentier, “Composition rules by Monsieur Charpentier” (my emphasis).
Sébastien de Brossard, to whom Loulié willed his copies of Charpentier’s treatises, states that the manuscript was used in the musical education of the Duke of Chartres. He later described it as a “most excellent treatise,” traité tout excellent, that merited publication. In other words, Brossard recognized the manuscript for what it was — and for what Loulié doubtlessly had told him it was. It was a careful copy of a highly significant manuscript that had served as the point of departure for a prince’s composition lessons. Would it therefore not be prudent to trust Brossard’s statement about the Règles?
Recently, however, a quite different view of the Règles has been proposed. This view argues that the Règles is chiefly notes that Loulié took while reading Charpentier; that it therefore gives us an incomplete idea of what the original Charpentier manuscript contained; and indeed, that Loulié’s version tells us more about Loulié’s thought than it does about Charpentier’s.(26) In light of the discovery of the Lilly autograph, this hypothesis will be addressed at various points in this Musing.
The second Charpentier manuscript (the original is likewise lost) was an expanded ("augmented") and improved version of the Règles. This revision probably was done circa 1693 — that is, shortly after the composition lessons that Charpentier gave to the Duke of Chartres. Why do I propose that this expanded version dates from after the lessons, and not before? I am mainly guided by clues in the Règles and the Augmentations. These clues suggest that Charpentier intended the Règles as a teacher’s manual, but that questions raised by the prince during his lessons caused the teacher to stray from the path he had set for himself. That is, Charpentier became aware of certain shortcomings in his text, and this prompted him to add new sections to the Règles, to invent a few new examples, and to rework his wording so that it would be more concise, less ambiguous.
In short, while he was busy teaching the prince, Charpentier doubtlessly was revising in his mind the original manual. The result was an improved manual that reflected the actual course of study. As was the custom in every mirror-of-princes project, he presumably gave Chartres an autograph presentation copy of the new manual. And he probably kept a personal copy for his files, just as he kept, in the Mélanges, his personal copies of commissioned works presented to one or another patron.
Loulié subsequently went through this new manual and realized that it sometimes diverged from the version he had copied. Rather than copy out the new manual in toto, he took a quill with a very thin nib and, onto a few blank pages at the end of his copy of the Règles, he copied the new materials that were simply too long to be added directly on his copy of the Règles. He called the result Augmentations tirées de l’original de Mr le duc de Chartres, that is, materials that "augmented" the contents of the Règles. A close reading of the definition of "original"(27) suggests that Loulié consulted the presentation copy given to the Duke (the copy “of the Duke...”), rather than Charpentier’s fair copy of the new, expanded manual.
Now and then Loulié used the same thin nib to enter some brief discrepancies directly in the left-hand margin of his own copy of the Règles. By contrast, each “augmentation” that he copied into the Augmentations is several paragraphs long and could not possibly be squeezed into the existing Règles.(28) (Hence the separate manuscript that he called Augmentations.) Among the brief interpolations in the margin are two allusions to Charpentier and one to Chartres: "Dans l’original de M. le Duc de Chartres il [Charpentier] dit que ...”; and "Nota qu’il [Charpentier] ne parle point ...."(29) These two interpolations are indeed personal statements by Loulié rather than quotes from Charpentier’s new manual; but they too are related to differences that Loulié noticed between the two versions. They are Loulié’s way of indicating that “he,” Charpentier, no longer agrees with himself.(30)
In short, irrespective of whether they take the form of expositions so lengthy that they had to be copied out into the Augmentations, or whether they are brief annotations that could be fitted into the margins of the existing Règles, the passages that Loulié copied out with that thin nib help us discern the materials that Charpentier added for the prince, as well as certain evolutions in his way of expressing himself. (Ms Williams has a rare opportunity to work out with precision the overall significance of this evolution. I lack the competence to do it.)
It is not always possible to determine where each long “augmentation” fits into the older Règles; but the contents of the new manual are not difficult to discern. These modifications are quite revealing about the approach that Charpentier used with the prince. Indeed, the content of the Augmentations permits us to deduce why Charpentier added things to the Règles.
As a tentative conclusion to this section, let us return to the composition classes of 1692-93. Charpentier found himself adding materials to the course, because the Règles did not answer all the questions that were raised during the lessons. For example, there apparently were some discussions about musical esthetics. This necessitated adding entire sections — Définition de la Musique, Energie des modes, and Les Beautes de la Musique — so that the finished manuscript would accurately reflect the course of study. This new material meant that Charpentier would have to add a Récapitulation to the two recapitulations already in the Règles. This new recapitulation highlights the esthetic considerations that were presented in these new sections: grande diversité dans la musique, ... expression naïve du sujet, bon choix des mouvements et des modes convenables à la passion qu’on veut représenter; la musique ne peut manquer d’être aussi belle que bonne. In the new section called Cordes essentielles des modes, Charpentier revised folio 12 recto of Les Règles. He also restated his earlier presentation of De la Fausse Relation.(31) A comparison of how these materials are stated in the Règles and how they are stated in the Augmentations, suggests that the original versions were too complex, too obscure for an adolescent. In addition, Charpentier added a discussion of cadences, Des Cadences — a subject he apparently had not thought to include in the Règles.
These new materials, like these re-wordings of earlier passages, were carefully thought out. Indeed, they provide moving evidence about the evolution in Charpentier’s teaching and theoretical skills. And they tell us a great deal about his intellectual development over the space of only a few years. (This question will be treated in more detail in Part III of this Musing.)
To summarize, the Règles almost certainly was drafted prior to the composition lessons for the Duke of Chartres. It was a sort of teacher’s manual for the course. But as Charpentier worked with the prince, he improved and expanded his approach.(31A) Once the course was over, he reworked the Règles to make them reflect the actual course, and he presented the improved and “augmented” version to the prince, to use as a reference book.
It is again thanks to Loulié that we know about Charpentier’s third theoretical work, which Loulié called the Abrégé des règles de l'accompagnement de Mr Charpentier. It takes the form of a brief list. In other words, it may well be Loulié’s own “abridgement” of Charpentier’s far longer presentation of a set of “rules” for accompaniment. The abridgement occupies the rear half of the outside cover sheet that Loulié put around the notebooks containing the Règles and the Augmentations. Neither the lost “rules of accompaniment” nor Loulié’s abridgement of them can be dated. The fact that Loulié copied the Abrégé into a folder of texts associated with the Duke of Chartres raises a question that cannot, in the current state of our knowledge, be answered: did Charpentier also show the prince the elements of keyboard accompaniment?
The Lilly manuscript is indubitably in Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s own hand.
It can be dated very precisely to the autumn of 1698.
Loulié’s assertion that Charpentier wrote the Règles de Composition and the Augmentations for the Duke of Chartres would seem to be trustworthy.
10. For Charpentier's manuscripts and his filing system, see Patricia M. Ranum, "Marc-Antoine Charpentier, 'garde-nottes'," in Les Manuscrits autographes, pp. 15-35. Having inherited Loulié's manuscripts, Brossard gave each of them a Roman numeral.
11. We shall see below that Charpentier made the same point early in the Règles: "Il n'y a point d'harmonie sans tierce ...," Cessac, Marc-Antoine Charpentier, (Paris: Fayard, 1988), p. 438; or (Paris: Fayard, 2004), p. 472.
12. For Loulié’s manuscripts, see Ranum, "Loulié" (1988-90), pp. 34-39; and Theodora Psychoyou, "Les Règles de composition par Monsieur Charpentier: statut des sources," in Les Manuscrits autographes, pp. 208-209, 214-20.
13. And there was Vittorio Siri, the Paris-based councilor of state to the Grand Duke of Tuscany. Roughly every month Siri produced a two-foot-high pile of political news, written in a tiny crabbed hand and subdivided into a foot-high busta for the Duke's secretary, a similar busta for the Duke's foreign affairs advisors, plus a multitude of letters scattered throughout other bundles in the Archivio di Stato, Florence.
14. He copied the Beretta mass onto paper F/39 (that is, paper "F" printed by the form that Laurent Guillo calls PAP-39). This same paper is found in cahier 28 (which Charpentier almost certainly copied out in 1679), in cahier XVIII (music for Circé, created in 1675), and in cahier XXXIII (which appears to date from 1682). My familiarity with Charpentier's clef formation is too superficial for me to propose a date for the Beretta mass, which uses only C clefs and therefore lacks the treble clefs that so conveniently and unambiguously permit dating by decade, although not by year. Dating would not be difficult for a scholar with ready access to the Minkoff facsimiles and to a photocopy of the Beretta mass. I am not that fortunate.
15. "Savant" and "savoir" are the terms used by Le Cerf de la Viéville when discussing Charpentier, Comparaison de la musique italienne et de la musique françoise (Brussels: Foppens, 1705), part 1, p. 26. Sébastien de Brossard admits to being tempted to class Charpentier and his compositions among the "théoriciens," rather than among composers. For the Italian meaning of "theorico" see Psychoyou, "Les Règles de composition," p. 201, n. 3.
16. Catherine Cessac, Marc-Antoine Charpentier (Paris: Fayard, 2004), 2nd edition, p. 464. There is something of a disconnect here: this sentence first appeared in the 1988 edition, p. 431; and she retained it in 2004 (pp. 461-62), despite her echoing Psychoyou ("Les Règles de composition par Monsieur Charpentier," pp. 205-207, 211-12), to the effect that the Règles is really Loulié's notes about a Charpentier treatise.
17. Ranum, "Étienne Loulié" (1987), pp. 52-61; and V. de Seilhac, L’Abbé Dubois, premier ministre de Louis XV (Paris: 1862), vol. I, pp. 185ff., and especially pp. 186, 190.
17A. Published in facsimile by Minkoff Reprints (Geneva, 1971), but without Loulié’s dedicatory letter: À Son Altesse Royale Monseigneur le Duc de Chartres.
18. Seilhac, I, pp. 11, 186, 187.
19. Ezéchiel Spanheim, Relation de la Cour de France, 1690, ed. Émile Bourgeois (Paris, 1900), p. 157.
20. Ranum, "Étienne Loulié" (1987), p.71.
21. Having been granted a privilège in 1695 to publish not only the Éléments but also "all other works written by him," Loulié reworked this subject over and over; but if he was thinking of publishing a composition method, the project was stillborn.
22. Ranum, "Étienne Loulié" (1988-90), pp. 5ff.
23. BnF, ms. n.a.fr., 6355, fol. 90.
24. It was of course Loulié, not Charpentier, who devised the descriptive titles for his copies of Charpentier. There is nothing in the title of the Règles to suggest that the manuscript contained Loulié’s notes, or was an abridgement of some sort: that is, he did not categorize the manuscript as either an “extrait” or an “abrégé,” as he did for manuscripts that were not complete texts. Loulié was not only careful, he was very consistent in labeling his manuscripts. A manuscript about practical pedagogy was a “méthode.” An excerpt from another theorist was labeled “extrait” on the title page as well as across the top of every successive page. His own treatises or reports were labeled by their principal theme, which he generally put across the head of the first page. Indeed, he gave treatises a name: for example, his own treatises are labeled Élements de composition, Suite des définitions, Règles ou Méthode de transposition, Musique pratique des Anciens, and so forth. In other words, the Règles "by Charpentier" was a treatise, just as Loulié’s own Règles de transposition, Règles de composition simple, and Règles de composition figurée, were treatises by Loulié himself. In like manner, the fact that the Augmentations is not described as an "extrait" is strong evidence that Loulié was careful to ferret out every single "augmentation" in the new manual, and to preserve it on paper. There are two intriguing exceptions to this otherwise very consistent practice: one of Loulié’s manuscripts is titled Musique de Descartes, and another is Règles de composition de Zarlin. These manuscripts do not contain the entire books. Does this aberration suggest that, in each instance, he copied in its entirety someone else’s manuscript translation? Just as he copied Charpentier’s Règles in their entirety? Is this explanation strengthened by the fact that he called another manuscript Extrait de la Musique de Zarlin, and that this "extract" clearly does contain notes that he himself took?
25. Ranum, "Étienne Loulié" (1988-90), pp. 34-36.
26. La Collection Sébastien de Brossard, ed. Yolande de Brossard (Paris: Bibliothèque nationale de France, 1994), p. 386. Cessac, Marc-Antoine Charpentier (2004), pp. 461-62, and Psychoyou, "Les Règles de Composition...," pp. 205-207, view the manuscript differently.
27. According to Furetière’s Dictionnaire, an "Original" is: ce qui est fait le premier dans le dessein, la composition, ou l’invention de quelque chose, ce qui sert aux autres de modele pour l’imiter, pour le copier.
28. Today, his task would be easily accomplished on a computer, by highlighting and deleting the passages to be corrected, and then copying and pasting the modified or added passages into the new version. And voilà, a revised manual with the brief and the lengthy augmentations all pasted in their intended places.
29. Cessac, Marc-Antoine Charpentier, pp. 444, 447 (1988); pp. 478, 481 (2004). In other words, Loulié was observing how Charpentier's thought had evolved during the approximately three years that separate the two versions. In the 2004 edition the type used for these "augmentations" renders them indistinguishable from the surrounding text.
30. A close examination of the other marginalia that Loulié added to the Règles reveals that the interpolations should be seen as direct quotes of what Charpentier wrote in the new manual. Let us move through Cessac’s 1988 edition of Marc-Antoine Charpentier (where the "augmentations" can usually, but not always, be distinguished by their smaller type), starting with p. 442. On pp. 442-43, Charpentier adds explanations about why certain chords are "good": he had neglected to include this information in the Règles, having simply written "good" or "bad" without giving his reasons. On p. 446 he added clarifications and a brief example to explain how to resolve minor sixths. On p. 447 the information about dissonances is made more precise; and on that same page there is one of the imperatives (Remarquez ...) that, as Part III shows, is not uncommon in Charpentier, but is used only rarely by Loulié. (A similar imperative is added on p. 450: Vous remarquerez dans l’exemple ....) At the bottom of p. 447 the passage that begins Tous les temps is a more concise rendering of the preceding three sentences. On p. 448 four words are added to make the rule more clear. On p. 450 Charpentier adds a clarification about the previous example: Vous remarquerez dans l’exemple ci-dessus.... Also on p. 450, the sentence that begins La quarte se considère is the sort of general statement that Charpentier usually placed after a subheading: he had neglected to make that sort of statement in the Règles; the passive voice, se considère, is typical of Charpentier’s written style, not Loulié’s (see below, section III,). On page 452, Différence de la ... is supposed to replace and clarify the underlined statement in the Règles: demeurant à la même place. On p. 454, dans la gamme is added for clarity. In sum, the above interpolations do not reflect Loulié’s thoughts and esthetic judgments: they are phrases, sentences, or brief paragraphs that are couched in Charpentier’s. characteristic written style and that make essential changes to the original Règles.
31. In Cessac, Marc-Antoine Charpentier, compare Du mode and Cordes essentielles des modes (1988), pp. 454-55 vs 457-59; (2004), p. 488 vs pp. 492-93. For fausse relation, see (1988), pp. 439 vs p. 459; and (2004), p. 473 vs p. 493.
31A. For orality that is eventually set down on paper, see Françoise Waquet, Parler comme un livre (Paris: Albin Michel, 2003).