If the makers of Tous les matins du monde—the 1991 film that won Best Film at the César Awards and catapulted violist Jordi Savall to stardom—wanted to make a more dramatic and historically accurate film that featured the viola da gamba, they probably should have consulted the historical writings on a Mr. de Machy instead of Marin Marais, who was the subject of the film.

Unlike Marais, the son of a Parisian shoemaker, De Machy, whose first name is unknown, arrived from the relative backwater of Moulins (nearly 300km south of Paris) sometime during the late seventeenth century. Then, in 1685, he published his Pièces de Violle, the first and only one of its kind for the instrument in France. This is where a story would usually end, with a publication of groundbreaking music, inspiring players of the time and the many generations that come after it. What later ensued would go down in historical musicology as one of the most dramatic accounts of Parisian music-making amongst the pioneers of the French viol.

Two years after De Machy’s Pièces de Violle, the violist Jean Rousseau decides to attack De Machy’s ideas in his newly published Traité de la viole. According to Rousseau, De Machy’s view on the carriage of the left hand with the two types of port de main was incorrect, and Rousseau’s teacher, Sainte Colombe (who happened to also be Marais’s teacher), never spoke or practised two hand position. It seemed that according to Rousseau, at least, Sainte Colombe was the authority on such matters, despite the claim by De Machy that ‘the most illustrious players have always so strongly recommended them’. Rousseau also then brings up another issue about De Machy’s preference for chordal writing for the viol, saying that “all the masters [of the viol] beginning with Monsieur Hotman acquired much more admiration with the most simple and touching airs with all the delicacy of the art than with the most correct and complicated harmonic pieces.” At this point, any cautious reader might be questioning the reliability of Rousseau with all his name-dropping. Does he really have the authority to speak on behalf of other French violists, including Hotman, De Machy’s very own teacher?

Further attacks seem to simply be misunderstandings: Rousseau says De Machy, ‘cries strongly against those who limit themselves to pleasing. People have always, he says, “preferred the bad to the good.” It seems to me, however, that this moral observation is inappropriately applied and that truly one must have no other goal than to please.’ But De Machy’s concern was really toward those composers who do not write idiomatically for the viol, as he explains: ‘I speak to those who do not care to put on paper everything that comes into their heads, without asking whether what they do is appropriate for the hand, the bow & the rest; and who believe they are protecting themselves from all the reproaches that one might make, by saying only, that provided people like what they write, that is enough for them. This is a response without any foundation since one can say that people have always preferred the bad to the good.’ Is Rousseau intentionally taking the issue out of context so as to depict De Machy in a bad light?

Rousseau also brings De Machy to account for his explanation of the tenuë, the technique of keeping one’s fingers down on the viol to increase the instrument’s resonance. Rousseau misrepresents De Machy by making him appear inflexible about the use of tenuës. It is true that De Machy strongly advocated their use, and commented about those who were ignorant of them, but he makes no mention of situations where they are not practical or required. Again, Rousseau misinterprets De Machy to portray him in a bad light.

Now with Pandora’s box well and truly open, De Machy had no choice but to reply. Unfortunately, this reply is lost (or perhaps future generations have yet to discover it?). We only know that De Machy’s reply exists because Rousseau refers to this document in his later reply to De Machy. It is this document, Réponce de Monsieur Rousseau, where all the drama is documented: the purported accusations of wrongdoing, the disputes of reliability and character, and the criticisms of skills and knowledge. But is any of this information accurate? Are any of these responses justified?

We know Rousseau has a tendency to misrepresent (or misunderstand) information, as seen in the Traité, while he often contradicts himself in Réponce. In one instance, Rousseau reports De Machy’s disapproval of Sainte Colombe's viol playing, and, in another, he reports De Machy wanting to dedicate his reply to Sainte Colombe. However, it is the reports of events that are particularly interesting: according to Rousseau, De Machy actually spoke with Sainte Colombe about the necessity to physically execute the two ports de main, (were they friends or rivals?), but Rousseau refutes that Sainte Colombe ever considered them two separate techniques. Again, does Rousseau really have the authority to speak on Sainte Colombe’s behalf?

De Machy apparently once brought his son to Sainte Colombe to listen to him play. According to Rousseau, Sainte Colombe thought that De Machy’s son was ‘good looking boy and that he had some talent, and that it was a pity he was not in his [Sainte Colombe’s] hands and that he believed he would do something good of him.’ If this was indeed an accurate depiction of events, Rousseau was not just a student of Sainte Colombe, but serves as the mouthpiece for Sainte Colombe and those who were associated with him like Marais.

There is even an event at a concert, at a certain Mr. Montalan’s home, where Rousseau claims a clique made up of the followers of De Machy attempted to humiliate him by asking him to play the viol after De Visée had finished performing. Why would this have been embarrassing? Are we to believe that De Machy possessed the influence to control events at a concert where Rousseau performed regularly? Or are we seeing a pattern of (intentional?) misrepresentation from Rousseau?

Whatever the situation may have been, we modern spectators can benefit from attaining a glimpse into the psychology of a late 17th-century French musician and the circle that he claims to represent. De Machy’s contribution may have been a modest start, a book of suites of dances, but the victors of the dramatic exchange that ensued would go on to shape later music practices. The burgeoning artistic pursuits of the early violists—De Machy, Rousseau, Danoville, Loulié, Dubuisson, Hotman—influenced the musical tastes of Parisians for generations after. The musical dynasties formed by the families of Marais and Forqueray, undoubtedly paved the way for the development of French music in the later 18th century. For more details on De Machy, see Ng, S. (2008). Le Sieur de Machy and the French solo viol tradition.

Shaun Ng