Reflections of an American Harpsichordist Unpublished Memoirs, Essays, and Lectures of Ralph Kirkpatrick

memoirs, 1933–77 ❧ 41
of the summer I had been saturated in Austrian and Bavarian Baroque [and] in
French Romanesque from Poitou and Auvergne, from Provence to Burgundy.
In April 1958, I had signed a contract with Deutsche Grammophon to
record the complete clavier works of Bach and, in 1959, my European center
of operations shifted to Paris. The next years were dominated by marathon
recording sessions and by extended European tours. The visual pleasures that
Paris afforded were a welcome and necessary contrast to the incarcerations of
the recording studio. In these years Paris was the scene of many dazzling and
superbly organized exhibitions, among them the Delacroix and Lebrun exhibi-
tions of 1963. But the high point for me was the Poussin exhibition of 1960,
which I must have visited at least a dozen times during that summer. It was
in these years, in addition to long walks through every part of Paris and occa-
sional excursions into the countryside, that I found time to frequent the shops
of print dealers and to acquire for myself many of the prints which I had cov-
eted ever since my studies with Paul Sachs at Harvard.
In November 1960, I was asked by UNESCO to play an invitation concert
in the palace of Versailles. For years I had hoped to play there. But the palace
at Versailles is almost as poorly equipped in electric and sanitary conveniences
as it was in the days of the Sun King—that is to say, in many parts of it not at
all—and for this occasion it was impossible to use the Galerie des Glaces or any
of the other rooms dating from the time of Mansart and Lebrun. A part of the
palace had to be used where electricity existed and where portable sanitary
conveniences could be installed. The concert took place in the Napoleonic
décor of the Salle du Sacre, and the harpsichord found its place immediately
in front of the Emperor’s white riding breeches as painted by that chilliest of
Neo-Classicists, Jacques-Louis David. While waiting to begin the concert, I shiv-
ered not only with the cold of that November evening but with the delight
of holding in my hands perhaps the only telegram that I shall ever receive
addressed to “Ralph Kirkpatrick, Château de Versailles.” Already, when driving
from Paris toward the illuminated chateau, my vanity swelled for the moment,
at least, at the thought that, in a sense, the palace was lit up just for me.
The years 1962 to 1967 were dominated by the Well-Tempered Clavier, which I
had recorded in its harpsichord version in 1962 and 1965 and in its clavichord
version in 1959 and 1967. Elsewhere, I have written of the problems posed by
complete performances of this work, or better stated, assemblage of works. I
cannot qualify as entirely successful any of my attempts at dealing with the Well-
Tempered Clavier in concert. At best, I look back on them as tours de force that
were unduly taxing for both performer and public. I am left with the impres-
sion that the principal value of this undertaking may have consisted merely in
proving to myself that I could do it.
In later years, especially after the Bach had been recorded, I was able to
give much more attention to French music. Sometimes special assignments
KKirkpatrick.indd 41irkpatrick.indd 41 2/8/2017 9:56:47 AM 2 / 8 / 2017 9 : 56 : 47 AM