For many viol players, the consort music of John Jenkins, in four, five and six parts, is the apogee of the consort literature. He is held in such high regard because of the beautiful lyrical fluency of his writing for the viol, the ease and natural way in which his Fantasias ebb and flow, the deftly sonorous spacing of his part-writing, and probably most of all for the genial character he reveals himself to be in these great works.

They built on the music of the generation before him: Coprario, Lupo, Gibbons, Ferrabosco had all written Fantasias for viols in a similar vein, contrapuntal and madrigalian, based on a vocal style, but extended to take advantage of the instrument. Jenkins had probably finished writing this large body of music by the end of the 1630s, and musical developments in Italy, in particular, were beginning to make themselves felt in England, even for a composer who spent most of his time away from the court, moving from large country house to house.

But in fact, the first half of the 17th century was the heyday of the English viol virtuoso, and standards of playing, particularly of the bass viol must have been extremely high. English players were in great demand in the courts of Europe, and we see Charles Butler in Madrid, William Young in Innsbruck, Walter Rowe in Germany, all virtuosos on the bass viol employed for their exceptional talents. At home in England, also, Christopher Simpson was the pre-eminent viol player, and a great friend of Jenkins. Jenkins himself was clearly a fine player, both on the normal bass viol and on the lyra viol, the smaller version, tuned in a bewildering variety of tunings, and notated in tablature. He performed before Charles I ‘as one that performed somewhat extraordinary’.

As the old contrapuntal style of Fantasia went out of fashion, so did the unity of the viol consort, where, in six-parts, for example, equal pairs of treble, tenor and bass viols created a seamless and smooth texture. With the rising prominence of the violin, and examples of the astounding virtuosity achieved by Italian and other performers, a more excited and, as Thomas Mace puts it, ‘Ayery, Jocond, Lively, and Spruce’ kind of music was called for. Jenkins responded with what we have on this album, a highly idiosyncratic mixture of styles, where elements of the old contrapuntal practice is mixed with what Walter Raleigh described as ‘the music of division’.

In England, the way of ornamentation where longer note values are embellished with shorter notes, was called ‘division’: the longer notes are divided into shorter ones, and it was a practice that found its fullest expression with the publication of Christopher Simpson’s ‘The Division Violist’ in 1659, given a dedicatory poem by Jenkins.

Jenkins uses this technique in these Fantasia-Suites, for one or two treble viols (or violins), one or two bass viols and organ. They are slightly varied in form, but all have a substantial Fantasia, which has clearly defined sections. Some have written-out organ parts, and some just a bass line, which the organist is expected to realise as a basso continuo, with occasional figures. They all sometimes contain short organ solos to vary the texture.

The music for one treble and two basses is dated 1654 in a copy in the Bodleian Library in Oxford, and contains this masterpiece in D minor (No 7), which we play here. This Fantasia has probably the densest divisions of all, decorating, or rather glued together by a slow-moving theme, something akin to an In Nomine. Simpson describes just such a thing in his book:

But here you are to take notice, that Divisions of Three Parts, are not usually made upon Grounds; but rather Composed in the manner of Fancies; beginning commonly with some Fuge, and then falling into Points of Division; answering one another; sometimes two against one, and sometimes all engaged at once in a contest of Division: But (after all) ending commonly in grave and harmonious Musick.

Mostly, such a movement is followed by one or two dance-movements: an Almain and Coranto, for example, where the binary movements are furiously divided on repeat.

The Fantasia-Suites for pairs of treble and basses and organ tend to be less densely ornamented than the others, and offer a fuller texture. The pair of trebles often move around in thirds or sixths, one of bass viols plays the bass, and the other plays high on the top string, making a middle voice. The Italian trio sonata, however, is clearly a model, and we are a long way from the consort fantasias.

I mentioned that standards of viol playing in England were high—it seems very probable that Jenkins was writing for his aristocratic masters, though some of this music might have be played during the Commonwealth at the weekly music meeting at the home of William Ellis, with a mix of amateur and professional musicians, such as Anthony Wood, Edward Lowe and John Wilson.

However, not all the music required nimble fingers, and there is a set of pieces for treble and two bass viols, with written-out organ parts that survive in the Bodleian, dated 1654, which have no division writing, and are very much in the old style, perhaps reflecting the conservative musical taste of the town and university. They are nevertheless beautiful and moving works.

By the time of the Restoration in 1660, the viol’s days were numbered. The new king, who had spent much of the Commonwealth at the court of Louis XIV in Versailles, had developed a taste for the dance music of France, and couldn’t abide music to which he couldn’t tap his foot. He set up an English equivalent of the 24 Violons du Roi, and there was no room for the old-fashioned violas da gamba in such a band.

Ironically, however, the fashion for virtuosic viol playing had crossed the channel in the opposite direction, and it was in France that the next chapter of viol playing was to be written.

Richard Boothby © 2025