Ghosts of the past
I’ve been thinking about this for a while and wasn’t sure when to post it, when Eyes posted something very similar. So I took that as a cue to go ahead with this post.
… one of my favourite memories is this summer day in the countryside, tall fragrant grass, plums heavy in the trees, pretty houses covered in ivy on the side of a country lane leading to a small, half burnt church with a puny fence, sheep grazing in the yard. The church is musty, with porous walls dark with candle and incense smoke.
The vicar told me a story about a local nobleman who took refuge in there after getting entangled in some political plot. The henchmen came in the middle of the night and he had to take off, riding [dehggi: his black steed] over the fence.
Or so the story goes. The vicar even showed me which part of the fence the prince rode over 😉 I’ve always wondered what became of him, did he make it unscathed? But I also didn’t want to know, so I could keep on making up my own stories.
All that was a roundabout way of introducing Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s Magnificat for three voices. I’m not particularly hot on Dominique Visse’s tone but the harmony is something else: