Les Deux Baptistes

Today, Jean-Baptiste Lully collaborates with a second Jean-Baptiste: Poquelin, a.k.a. Molière.

Jean-Baptiste Lully is one of those figures who loom large in histories of music; much less so in concert and on disc. In fact he's probably best known as the victim of the worst conducting accident in history, whacking himself on the toe with the weighty staff he used, in those pre-baton days, to beat time. Tragically, time was up for Lully, and he died of a gangrenous infection, at the peak of his powers, a little over two months later. All this week, Donald Macleod explores the life and work of this ambitious, arrogant, difficult, ruthless but remarkable man who came from the backstreets of Florence to be the preeminent composer of the French court in the late 17th century, the founding father of French opera and one of the leading figures in the music of his era.

In today's programme, a royal dictat throws Lully together with the greatest comic actor and playwright of his age: Molière. For seven years they enjoyed a close collaboration, producing a series of brilliant comédies-ballets culminating in Le bourgeois gentilhomme, which almost 250 years later inspired Richard Strauss to create his own music for Molière's play. Perhaps a creative relationship of such intensity was too hot not to cool down; for whatever reason - it was probably over money - the two men eventually had an acrimonious bust-up. There's an architectural side-plot; as Lully's success and wealth increased, so did the grandeur of his residential designs. That other McCloud - Kevin - would have loved him.