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THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
The Art of Music 
 
 A Comprehensive Library of Information 
 for Music Lovers and Musicians 
 
 Editor-in-Chief 
 DANIEL GREGORY M^SON 
 
 Columbia University ^ 
 
 Associate Editors 
 
 EDWARD B. HILL LELAND HALL 
 
 Harvard University Past Professor, Univ. of Wisconsin 
 
 Managing Editor 
 CESAR SAERCHINGER 
 
 Modern Music Society of New York 
 
 In Fourteen Volumes 
 
 Profusely Illustrated 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC 
 
 1916 
 
 5 
 
 v<e. 
 
SaSiiB«it*J**- 
 
King Rene and his Musical Court 
 
 From the Breviary of King Reni, a 15th century manuscript in the Biblio- 
 thique de V Arsenal 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC: VOLUME ONE 
 
 A Narrative History of Music 
 
 Department Editors: 
 
 LELAND HALL 
 
 AND 
 
 CESAR SAERCHINGER 
 
 Introduction by 
 
 C. HUBERT H. PARRY, Mus. Doc. 
 
 Director Royal College of Music, Loodon. 
 Formerly Professor of Music, .University of Oxford, etc. 
 
 BOOK I 
 THE PRE-CLASSIC PERIODS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC 
 
Copyrigbt, iSlS, b; 
 
 THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC, Inc. 
 
 [All Righti Eeserred) 
 
CONTENTS OF THE SERIES 
 
 Volume I. 
 
 Volume II. 
 
 Volume III. 
 
 Volume FV. 
 
 Volume V. 
 Volume VI. 
 Volume VII. 
 Volume VIII. 
 Volume IX. 
 
 Narrative History of Music — ^Book I: The 
 
 Pre-Classic Periods. 
 Introduction by Sir C. Hubert H. Parry, Mus. 
 
 Doc, Director of the Royal College of Music, 
 
 London. 
 
 Narrative History of Music — ^Book II: Clas- 
 sicism AND Romanticism. 
 Introduction by Leland Hall, Past Professor of 
 Musical History, University of Wisconsin. 
 
 Narrative History of Music — Book III: Mod- 
 ern Music. 
 
 Introduction by Edward Burlingame Hill, In- 
 structor in the History of Music, Harvard 
 University. 
 
 Music IN America. 
 
 Introduction by Arthur Farwell, Associate Edi- 
 tor, 'Musical America.' 
 
 The Voice and Vocal Music. 
 Introduction by David Bispham, LL.D. 
 
 Choral and Church Music. 
 Introduction by Sir Edvpard Elgar, O.M. 
 
 Pianoforte and Chamber Music. 
 Introduction by Claude Debussy. 
 
 The Orchestra and Orchestral Music. 
 Introduction by Dr. Richard Strauss. 
 
 The Opera. 
 
 Introduction by Alfred Hertz, Conductor, Met- 
 ropolitan Opera House, New York. 
 
 vii 
 
CONTENTS OF THE SERIES 
 
 Volume X. The Dance. 
 
 Introduction by Anna Pavlowa, of the Imperial 
 Russian Ballet. 
 
 Volume XI. Dictionary of Musicians and General Index. 
 
 Volume XII, Dictionary of Music and General Index. 
 
 Volume XIII. Musical Examples. 
 
 Volume XIV. Modern Musical Examples. 
 
 vui 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 So many and varied are the paths of musical enjoy- 
 ment and profit opened out in the following pages, so 
 different and sometimes so conflicting are the types of 
 art represented there, that the timid or inexperienced 
 reader may well pause at the threshold, afraid of 
 wholly losing his way in such a labyrinth. He may 
 hesitate to trust himself in so unfamiliar a landscape 
 without first seeing some sort of small-scale plan of the 
 ground, which, omitting the confusing details, shows in 
 bold relief only the larger and essential divisions — the 
 'lay of the land.' Such a plan it is the object of this 
 introduction to furnish. 
 
 Of the two most general types of reader, the profes- 
 sional musician and the amateur or lover of music, the 
 first is least in need of such assistance. His keen inter- 
 est in his specialty will naturally determine the order of 
 his reading; he will look first for all he can find about 
 that, and later work out from that centre in various di- 
 rections, and meanwhile the plan peculiar to this work 
 of assembling all information on a given subject con- 
 tained in any of the volumes under a name or subject 
 word in the index volume will make this process as 
 systematic and economical of time as it is fascinating 
 to intellectual curiosity. Thus the index volume will 
 serve as a sort of central rotunda, so to speak, making 
 each room in this house of information accessible from 
 
 ix 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 every other, and it will matter little at what point we 
 enter. The singer may go in by Volume V, the pianist 
 by Volume VII, the organist by Volume VI: all will 
 eventually penetrate the entire edifice. 
 
 It is, then, the music lover unfamiliar with all musi- 
 cal technique, and quite unspecialized in his interest, 
 who most needs the help that these preliminary sug- 
 gestions may offer. The kind of help he will want will 
 depend, of course, on what it is he chiefly wishes to 
 gain by his reading. Now we shall probably not go 
 far wrong in saying that such a reader will desire, first, 
 that general knowledge of the most important schools 
 and the greatest individuals of music history which is 
 not only a powerful aid to the enjoyment of music, but 
 is nowadays coming to be considered an essential part 
 of a liberal education. Secondly, he will wish to gain 
 sufficient familiarity with music itself, and sufficient 
 understanding of the instruments by which it is pro- 
 duced and the ways in which they influence its struc- 
 ture and style, to afford him the basis for sound dis- 
 crimination between good, bad, and indifferent music, 
 to develop, in short, his taste. In the third place, he 
 will justly consider that, however abstruse and involved 
 the theory of music may be, its fundamental principles 
 are nevertheless accessible to the layman, and that fa- 
 miliarity with such principles, especially those of musi- 
 cal structure, affording as it will an insight into the 
 way music is put together, is an invaluable aid to that 
 sympathetic understanding of it which comes only to 
 the alert and attentive listener. In a word, the music 
 lover will demand of his reading that it instruct him 
 historically, that it refine his taste by developing his 
 sense of style, and that it intensify his enjoyment by 
 showing him how to listen. 
 
 Glancing now at the table of contents, we shall see 
 that 'The Art of Music' naturally divides itself into 
 three portions, each especially suited to subserve one of 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 these three needs of the reader. The first four vol- 
 umes, historical in character, are primarily instructive. 
 Volumes V to IX, inclusive, deal with the practical 
 side of the art — ^what is sometimes caUed 'applied 
 music' — and in describing the chief media by which 
 it is produced, such as the voice, the organ, the piano, 
 the string quartet, the orchestra, provide general no- 
 tions of what is appropriate to each. The short essays 
 on harmony and on form in Volmne XII, and many 
 passages of explanation of similar matters scattered 
 through all the volumes, will acqpiaint the student with 
 the fundamental principles of musical theory and the 
 standard types of musical structure, thus affording him 
 valuable aid to appreciative listening. The three por- 
 tions of the work, historical, practical, and theoreti- 
 cal, are finally correlated and unified by Volumes XI 
 and XII, the Dictionary and Index, and illustrated by 
 the musical examples in Volumes XIII and XIV. 
 
 Let us examine a little more closely the ground cov- 
 ered by each of these three general sections, one after 
 another, not yet in detail — ^that will come only with the 
 actual reading — ^but with the idea rather of getting a 
 bird's-eye view of the whole field in its salient masses 
 and divisions. 
 
 The history of music is like that of other arts in being 
 divided into schools or epochs. These are of course 
 to a certain extent arbitrary and artificial — ^marked off 
 by critics for convenience of classification — and a com- 
 poser may belong to two or more schools, as Beethoven, 
 for example, is both 'classical' and 'romantic,' without 
 being any more aware of it than we are when our train 
 crosses the line, say, from New York State into Massa- 
 chusetts. But they are also in part natural and real, 
 because any fruitful idea in art— such as the 'impres- 
 sionistic' idea of light in painting, for instance— is so 
 much greater than any one man's capacity to grasp it 
 that a whole generation or more of artists is needed to 
 
 xi 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 develop its possibilities. Such a group of artists forms 
 what we call a 'school' or 'period,' beginning usually 
 with pioneers whose work is crude but novel, continu- 
 ing with countless workers, most of whom are after a 
 short time completely forgotten, and culminating with 
 one or two greatly endowed masters who gather up all 
 the best achievements of the school in their own work 
 and stands for posterity as its figure-heads, or in some 
 cases engulf it entirely in their colossal shadows. 
 Pioneers, journeymen, geniuses — that is the list of char- 
 acters in the drama we call an artistic school. 
 
 If we try to outline in the roughest way the half 
 dozen or so most important schools we can find in the 
 entire history of music we shall get something like the 
 following. After the long groping among the rudi- 
 ments that went on through Greek and early Christian 
 times there emerged during the middle ages a type of 
 ecclesiastical music which, after a development of sev- 
 eral centuries, culminated in the work of Orlando de 
 Lasso (1520-1594), Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina 
 (1524-1594), and others. This music is as primitive, 
 archaic, and severe to our ears as the early Flemish re- 
 ligious pictures are to our eyes. It can be described 
 chiefly in negatives. It did not employ instruments, 
 but only voices in the chorus. It had no regular time- 
 measure, but wandered on with as little definiteness of 
 rhythm as the Latin prose to which it was set. It em- 
 ployed no grating harsh combinations of tones ('dis- 
 sonances') such as make our music so stirring to the 
 emotions, partly because they are difficult for voices, 
 partly because the science of harmony was in its in- 
 fancy, partly because the kind of expression it aimed at 
 was that of religious peace. Each group of voices had 
 its own melody to carry, and as there were sometimes 
 as many as sixteen groups an extraordinarily complex 
 web of voices or 'parts' was developed, to which is due 
 the name of polyphonic- (many-voiced) applied to this 
 
 xii 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 school. Unsuited as it is to the restless temper of the 
 modern man, it often attained within its own limits an 
 exquisite beauty. 
 
 With the application of this general type of art, the 
 polyphonic, to instruments, especially the organ, new 
 developments supervened. Dissonances were perfectly 
 easy, and most effective, on the organ, that would have 
 been impossible for voices. Definite metre and rhythm 
 were gradually introduced. Above all, the many mel- 
 odies of the older style to some extent gave way to the 
 massive detached chords more suitable to the organ 
 (because the player could grasp them by handfuls in- 
 stead of having to make his fingers play hide and seek 
 among the keys), and thus was born another great 
 type of style, the 'homophonic' (one main melody, ac- 
 companied by chords rather than by other melodies). 
 At the same time the intellectual interest was vastly 
 increased by the use of more and more definite and 
 recognizable bits of melody, happily called the 'sub- 
 jects' or 'themes' of the composition, which could be 
 developed and marshalled just as a writer develops and 
 marshals his thoughts. The fugue is the arch type of 
 this kind of composition, with its style partly polypho- 
 nic and partly homophonic, its deep thoughtfulness, its 
 ingenuity, and its surprising variety and depth of emo- 
 tional expression. Its supreme master was Johann Se- 
 bastian Bach (1685-1750). 
 
 Despite the mixture of styles in the fugue, however, 
 the preponderant element was still the basket-like 
 texture of winding melodies suitable especially to 
 voices — Whence it was only in the suite, a type which 
 developed at the same time and of which also Bach was 
 one of the supreme masters, that the homophonic style 
 suitable to instruments was freely worked out. Instru- 
 ments mark the rhythm much more strongly than 
 voices, so that all sorts of dance movements are par- 
 ticularly appropriate for them. When the rhythm is 
 
 xiii 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 so marked, comparatively short phrases of tune stand 
 out sharply and balance each other like the verses in 
 a couplet of poetry. Composers soon found out how 
 further to group these phrases in definite parts or sec- 
 tions, so contrasted that the whole of the short piece or 
 'movement' presented a perfectly clear, sharp impres- 
 sion, had a definite beginning, middle, and end — a clear 
 scheme of form. This clearness of impression was 
 enhanced by making only one line of melody — the 
 'tune' or 'air,' as we say — prominent, either subordinat- 
 ing all the others or doing away with them entirely in 
 favor of an accompaniment of detached chords such 
 as we find in a modern waltz or march. The suite, 
 then, as it is found in its golden age, the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, is a series of short dance tunes of strongly marked 
 rhythm, precise in phraseology and concise in form, 
 in the homophonic style. Among its masters may be 
 mentioned, besides the German Bach, Couperin and 
 Rameau in France, Corelli (violin) and Scarlatti 
 (harpsichord) in Italy, and Handel in England. 
 
 Closely allied with the suite, indeed an offshoot from 
 it, is the sonata, originally any piece for instruments 
 (from sonare, to sound or play) as distinguished from 
 a cantata for voices (from cantare, to sing). The old 
 sonatas are essentially suites. But the generation after 
 Bach's, of which one of his own sons, Carl Philipp 
 Emanuel Bach, was a guiding spirit, hit upon one of 
 those apparently simple but immensely fruitful ideas 
 out of which whole schools are made. It was this : In- 
 stead of coming to a stop as soon as you have outlined 
 a single musical idea or 'theme,' and then merely re- 
 peating or slightly elaborating it, as was done in all the 
 movements of the typical suite, why not embrace in the 
 span of your thought two contrasting ideas,* so charac- 
 
 * To be exact Emanuel Bach was not responsible for the idea of con- 
 trast, wHch was a principle developed by the so-called Mannheim school, 
 whose leader was Johann Stamitz. But with IBach the two separate sec- 
 tions of the 'Exposition' first become distinct. 
 
 xiv 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 terized and arranged that each should serve as the ef- 
 fective foil of the other? Once this notion of making a 
 piece of music out of two contrasting themes was tried 
 out in practice it proved to have endless potentialities. 
 In the two hundred years that hav6 elapsed since C. P.E. 
 Bach's birth in 1714 its possibilities have not been ex- 
 hausted; it has shown an elasticity which has enabled 
 it to serve equally for the embodiment of such different 
 ideas as those of Mozart, Beethoven, Schubert, Schu- 
 mann, Tschaikowsky, Brahms; it has been applied to 
 all branches of instrumental music, extending its sway 
 quickly from the 'sonata,' specifically so called, for one, 
 two or three instruments, to the quartet, quintet, etc., 
 for a group, to the concerto for a soloist with orchestral 
 accompaniment, and to the overture and the symphony 
 for full orchestra. 
 
 The purest examples of the application of this scheme 
 lo orchestral music are to be found in the first move- 
 ments of the symphonies of Joseph Haydn (1732-1809), 
 of W. A. Mozart (1756-1791), and above all of Ludwig 
 van Beethoven (1770- 182^ . the genius in whom the 
 classical symphony culminated. The method adopted 
 in such movements, of which the opening allegro of 
 Beethoven's Eroica Symphony may stand as an unsur- 
 passable model, was, first, to present two strongly in- 
 dividual and contrasting musical ideas ('themes'), the 
 first usually more vigorous in character, the second 
 more tender and appealing; second, to let these 
 thoughts germinate or develop in such a way as to 
 bring clearly forth what was at first latent in them; 
 and, finally, to draw together the threads and complete 
 the musical action by a restatement of the root ideas in 
 something like their original form. The variety, the 
 power, the subtlety, the unfailing instinct for beauty, 
 -with which Beethoven worked out the almost limitless 
 possibilities of such a scheme can hardly be realized 
 even dimly save by a loving study of his masterpieces, 
 
 XV 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 phrase by phrase, ahnost note by note. His symphonies 
 are like Greek statues of the great period in their in- 
 finite variety, their perfect unity. It may seriously be 
 doubted whether music can ever a second time attain, 
 the harmony of all its elements that it found in this 
 supreme master — that which one of his critics has hap-, 
 pily termed 'the perfect balance of expression and 
 design.' 
 
 Certain it is that immediately after him, in large 
 measure as a result of his own example, it took a pro- 
 nounced turn toward picturesqueness, toward highly 
 personal expression, toward all that is conveniently 
 summed up in the vague word Romanticism. Just what 
 romanticism means it is easier to suggest by examples 
 than to define in general terms. Franz Schubert 
 (1797-1828), emphasizing the lyric element in orches- 
 tral music, so that his symphonies have almost the 
 personal expressiveness of songs, is romantic. Robert 
 Schmnann (1810-1856), with his vivid short piano 
 pieces bearing such suggestive titles as 'Soaring,' 
 'Whims,' 'In the Night,' 'Why,' and with his musical 
 portraits of friends, his quotations from his own works, 
 and other ingenious devices for stimulating our imag- 
 inations, literary and pictorial as well as musical, is 
 romantic. Felix Mendelssohn (1809-1847) is romantic 
 with his orchestral canvases of the Hebrides islands 
 bathed in sunshine and clamored over by sea-birds, and 
 of the delicate dances of Shakespeare's fairies in the 
 'Mid-summer Night's Dream'; and romantic is Frederic 
 Chopin (1809-1849), with his nocturnes and preludes. 
 The composers of the romantic period, in fact, embod- 
 ied in the types of design they inherited from Beethoven 
 (but practised, as a rule, with far less mastery than 
 he) a sort of poetic suggestion of all kinds of things 
 outside of music. Their art is essentially an art of sug- 
 gestion; and, while its purely musical beauty is often 
 great, they wish us not to rest content with the music 
 
 xvi 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 for itself, but to regard it as a symbol of something 
 beyond. 
 
 Once composers had begun to label, so to speak, the 
 musical expressiveness which the classicists preferred 
 to leave free to act upon each hearer according to his 
 temperament and associations, certain especially lit- 
 erary minds among them, notably Hector Beriioz (1803- 
 1869) and Franz Liszt (1811-1886), naturally felt im- 
 pelled to carry the process a step further, to amplify 
 and edit the label into complete 'directions for using.' 
 Such 'directions for using' are called 'programs,' and 
 the school which affects them is named 'programmis- 
 tic,' or, by analogy with a similar school in literature, 
 'realistic' Your typical programmist, such as Berlioz, 
 is not satisfied with the romanticist's mere suggestion 
 of a subject; he demands in advance a complete bill of 
 fare of his musical feast. When Beethoven, a classicist, 
 deals with a human emotion — ^love, for instance, as in 
 the Fifth Symphony — he aims merely to stimulate in us 
 the most general feeling and let each of us interpret for 
 himself; when a romanticist like Tschaikowsky writes 
 almost equally beautiful love music he gives a fillip to 
 our imagination by naming it an overture to 'Romeo 
 and Juliet'; but when Berlioz conceives his Symphonie 
 Fantastique he must have his lover killed on the guillo- 
 tine — ^he must even hear the knife fall. Such a theory 
 of musical aesthetics is evidently highly dangerous, 
 since it tends to bind shackles on the free movement of 
 the music, and also to distract the hearer's attention 
 from the music to something far less vital. Neverthe- 
 less in the hands of Richard Strauss in our own day 
 (born 1864), who seems to be the genius in which this 
 school is to culminate, it has led to remarkable results. 
 
 We have now reviewed in highly summary fashion 
 some of the chief schools, with their most representa- 
 tive masters, that may be noted in a bird's-eye view of 
 the history of instrumental music. As for the other 
 
 xvii 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 great branch of the art, music associated with litera- 
 ture, and especially its most important manifestation, 
 the opera, classification according to artistic principles 
 is both more ditficult and less necessary, since the opera 
 can very well be studied by countries rather than by 
 schools. The reader will at any rate find in his study 
 of opera that one or two clear conceptions of the na- 
 tional or racial character of the three peoples who have 
 done the most important work in the operatic field, the 
 Italians, the French, and the Germans, will help him 
 more than aesthetic standards difficult to apply to an 
 aesthetic hybrid which is neither drama nor music. 
 Thus the Italian sensuousness has been both the bless- 
 ing and the curse of opera in Italy: the blessing by 
 keeping it simple and tuneful, as in so much of Rossini 
 (1792-1868), Bellini (1802-1835), Donizetti (1798-1848), 
 the early Verdi (1813-1901), and even such modems as 
 Mascagni and Leoncavallo; the curse of opening the 
 door to all sorts of absurdities on the dramatic side, 
 and to the abuse of the power of the singers in mean- 
 ingless virtuosity. Again, the keen dramatic sense of 
 the French has helped to minimize such absurdities in 
 works produced by their composers or at their national 
 opera house under their national influence, as for in- 
 stance those of Gluck (1714-1787), Cherubini (1760- 
 1842), Meyerbeer (1791-1864), and others. Finally the 
 warmth of sentiment of the Germans, their unrivalled 
 faculty for getting at the emotional essence of a situa- 
 tion and expressing it in music, must be accorded a 
 large part in the power of the romantic operas of the 
 German Carl Maria von Weber (1786-1826) and the 
 music dramas of Richard Wagner (1813-1883). In re- 
 venge the Teutonic deficiency of dramatic sense and 
 tolerance of tedium are to some extent accountable for 
 those long stagnations of the action in the Wagnerian 
 dramas which the most ardent admirers of Wagner the 
 musician no longer deny. 
 
 xviii 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 In all this historical study of the earlier volumes of 
 'The Art of Music' the reader will be primarily in quest 
 of information, his interest will be that of the scientist 
 in facts. Even here, however, he will soon find himself 
 discriminating the good from the bad, or from the less 
 good, setting iip standards of comparison, in a word, 
 mingling with his purely scientific interest in facts an 
 artistic interest in values. In all periods he will find 
 the great man distinguished from the Uttle by nobility, 
 depth, and variety of thought, and by purity of style. 
 In all ages he will discover hosts of mediocrities for one 
 genius. He will realize that there were as many routi- 
 nists in the polyphonic school, as many dry-as-dusts in 
 the classic, as many sentimentalists in the romantic, as 
 there are uninspired scene-painters among the pro- 
 granunists. He will remark what may be called the 
 double paradox of art : first, that cheap decorativeness, 
 empty display of merely technical skill, 'splurge' of all 
 sorts, while often making music popular in its own day, 
 has always killed it early for posterity, as for example 
 in the case of the over-ornamented arias of Italian 
 opera or the equally over-ornamented piano pieces of 
 Thalberg and other early nineteenth century pianists; 
 second, that simplicity, directness, sincerity are always 
 at first ignored or misunderstood, and only gradually 
 take the supreme place which belongs to them, as 
 we see in studying such otherwise dissimilar artists 
 as Gluck, Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, Wagner, 
 Brahms, Franck. Such observations open up the path 
 to a true, independent, and unconventional estimate of 
 artistic values, to the development of real taste. 
 
 It is especially in amplifying, clarifying, and solidi- 
 fying this taste that the second group of volumes, deal- 
 ing with the media of musical production, will be use- 
 ful to the unprofessional reader. A knowledge of the 
 construction of instruments and of the style appropriate 
 to each, as determined by its peculiarities and exempli- 
 
 xix 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 fied in its literature, is a great aid both to the apprecia- 
 tion of excellence and to the detection of shoddiness. 
 A simple example will make this clear. Every one who 
 has watched a pianist play a waltz knows how appro- 
 priate and convenient for the piano is that kind of ac- 
 companiment which has been called the 'dum-dum- 
 dum' — ^where the left hand first sounds the bass and 
 then strikes twice a chord completing the harmony and 
 at the same time marking the rhythm. This is an ex- 
 cellent piano device, because it does these three needful 
 things in the simplest possible way. What shall we say, 
 however, when laziness or incompetence, writing a 
 waltz for orchestra, borrows this piano device without 
 change, as it does constantly in the popular music of 
 the day? Evidently enough, what was well fitted to the 
 piano is ridiculous for an orchestra: for here it gives 
 the bass instruments a series of detached notes without 
 coherence or interest, and condemns the unfortunate 
 players who provide the middle parts to repeat an end- 
 less 'dum-dima, dum-dum' which outrages all musical 
 instinct. 
 
 Or, again, we sometimes hear piano pieces in which 
 the harmonies are arranged in solid chords, as in the 
 hymn-tune familiar in the protestant church. Why the 
 effect should be so singularly vapid we do not know 
 until we think of the peculiarities of the instruments 
 involved. Voices, especially in large groups, as in con- 
 gregational singing, move slowly, sustain well, and 
 show their quality best when disposed in broad masses. 
 Hence the appropriateness to them of these deliberate 
 chords. But the piano, on the contrary, sustains very 
 poorly, achieves fullness of volume only by means of 
 rapid utterance, and is in short at its very worst in the 
 hymn-tune style. Piano tone requires to be split up 
 into many facets, to be carved, so to speak; but vocal 
 tone is like those substances, such as colored marble, 
 which show their texture best in the block. Recently 
 
 XX 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 there has been much controversy as to the appropriate- 
 ness of organ transcriptions of orchestral works. No 
 doubt the organ can render the notes of a symphony 
 quite as well as the poor overworked piano, but a rudi- 
 mentary knowledge of the mechanism of the organ will 
 show us where lies its special capacity — ^in the sustain- 
 ing and rolling up of great masses of tone, and not at 
 all in that more intimate expressiveness through swell- 
 ing and fading and through accent in which the violin 
 is peerless. The organ is magnificent in a Bach fugue, 
 unsatisfactory in a Beethoven symphony, ridiculous in 
 a popular dance. Thus on all sides we see that style 
 depends on the medium, and that a sensitive taste will 
 no more detach a musical figure from its appropriate 
 setting than it will transfer the costume of the logging- 
 camp to the drawing-room, or vice versa. 
 
 What makes all study of this kind particularly neces- 
 sary to the would-be intelligent music-lover of to-day is 
 that our generation seems to be going through a period 
 of unusual confusion in all matters of taste. Whether 
 it be that our resources have accumulated faster than 
 our powers of assimilation could develop, or that popu- 
 lar education, while increasing the amount of musical 
 enjoyment, has lowered its quality, or that the ever- 
 present commercialism has betrayed us — whatever be 
 the causes, it is certain that almost all our standards 
 have suffered from a false liberaUsm, that we have lost 
 old lines and boundaries without getting anything to 
 put in their place, and that much as we may boast of 
 no longer starving our artistic instincts as did our pur- 
 itan forefathers, we do not yet discriminatingly nour- 
 ish them, but rather overeat ourselves sick. There is 
 hardly any branch of music where this tendency to ex- 
 cess may not be discovered. The modern conception of 
 the piano, for instance, as a rival of the orchestra in 
 richness, variety, and power of sound has adulterated 
 piano style in many respects. It has led directly to 'un- 
 
 xxi 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 grateful' writing for the piano by composers, to pound- 
 ing and other exaggerations by players. There are few 
 musicians nowadays who show the fine self-control 
 that made Schumann and Chopin models of how the 
 piano should be treated. The rare intuition of Debussy 
 in this respect is one of the true justifications of a 
 vogue not perhaps altogether free from faddism. 
 
 In chamber music, notably the string quartet, where 
 delicateness of sonority is even more vital to the style, 
 since it is the condition of the clearness of the indi- 
 vidual voices, and cannot be departed from without an 
 immediate coarsening of the texture, there is the same 
 tendency to imitate the orchestra. One hears many 
 modern quartets in which all four instruments keep 
 restlessly sawing away, often on two strings at once, 
 as if they were taking part in a hurdle race or a debat- 
 ing society, rather than in a work of art. Special effects 
 like harmonics and the use of the mute, appropriate 
 enough in solos and at long intervals, are grossly 
 abused. In striving to be something beyond its frame 
 this most exquisite combination of four musical per- 
 sonalities loses all its intimateness, all its charm. Even 
 orchestral music itself does not escape these perver- 
 sions. There is a distinct cult at the present day, espe- 
 cially in France, for playing at concerts music originally 
 written to accompany pantomimes or ballets, and even 
 for composing pieces intended for concert according to 
 the processes suitable for such illustrative music — ^with 
 highly spiced sonorous effects, schemes of structure 
 based on dramatic action, and little or no purely musi- 
 cal interest. Indeed, all thoughtful observers must 
 sometimes ask themselves if this universal tendency to 
 force things out of their natural fields, to make them 
 do not what they can do best, but what they are least 
 expected to do, is not a symptom of a grave disorder of 
 our aesthetic sense, a preference of novelty to beauty, a 
 debased fondness for the queer, an invasion of art by 
 
 xxii 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 that low curiosity which draws a street crowd around 
 any one who will stand on his head, or wear his clothes 
 wrong side before. The reader genuinely fond of 
 music wiU be glad to combat this tendency to the best 
 of his power, and to that end will inform himseK of 
 those peculiarities of instruments by which appropri- 
 ateness of style is so largely determined. 
 
 What the average reader can get from his study of 
 the theoretical portions of 'The Art of Music' will de- 
 pend largely on his instinctive sense of the larger bear- 
 ing of technical facts. Studied with pedantic insistence 
 of detail harmony is a dry subject; studied with an 
 imagination eager for the light it throws on general 
 aesthetic questions it proves unexpectedly illuminating. 
 Harmony describes the material available to the mu- 
 sician; it is, we might say, the dictionary from which 
 each composer chooses the words he needs to express 
 his thought; and to study it is therefore for the lover of 
 music much what it is for the lover of literature to 
 study the vocabularies of his favorite authors — the der- 
 ivations of the words, their ancient associations, the 
 flavors which cling about them. Just as Sir Thomas 
 Browne has his special words, noble-sounding, many- 
 syllabled, and his special forms of sentence that roll 
 grandly off the tongue, and as Keats finds in the same 
 English a completely different instrument, capable of 
 romantic utterance and full of elusive suggestion: so 
 the harmony of Bach is not the harmony of Schumann, 
 although it is made out of the same notes and even 
 many of the same chords. Indeed, the very same chord 
 is not the same in effect, in style, when used in the con- 
 text of two composers, or even of one composer in two 
 different moods; a chord is a chameleon that takes the 
 color of its surroundings. How full of sadness, of infi- 
 nite resignation, is the first B flat chord in the Adagio 
 of the Ninth Symphony! How the very same B flat 
 chord pulsates with energy in the Allegro of the 
 
 xxiii 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 Fourth! The study of the action and reaction of har- 
 mony and style is a fascinating one, in spite of its dif- 
 ficulty— one on which books might be written, as many 
 have been on the choice of words in literature. 
 
 Easier, however, and much more directly helpful to 
 appreciation, is the study of the chief principles of 
 musical form or structure, as they affect, not the com- 
 poser, but the listener. As one going into a foreign 
 country provides himself with some guidance as to the 
 main things he is going to see there, so the music lover 
 to whom symphonic music remains to some degree a 
 foreign region likes to find out before he hears it what 
 he is to listen for. That knowledge in detail will be 
 found in the essay on musical form in Volume XII. 
 Here it is our business, as before, avoiding detail, to 
 get such a bird's-eye view as may be possible of the 
 most general facts of musical form. Especially agree- 
 able and useful would it be if we could show that, in 
 music as elsewhere, form and formalism are two es- 
 sentially different things, and that while formalism is 
 the conventionalizing and stiffening that indicate low- 
 ered vitality or incipient death in a work of art, form 
 is the necessary shape it takes because it is alive. The 
 formless is not yet alive; the formal is dying or dead; 
 only the formed truly lives. Therefore musical form is 
 quite simple and natural, like the branching of trees or 
 tiie crystallizing of salts, and the study of it is based 
 on observation and common sense, and strives to de- 
 termine how sounds have to be ordered to become in- 
 telligible. 
 
 Essentially there are but three processes concerned 
 in musical construction — the announcement or exposi- 
 tion of the themes, their elaboration or development, 
 and their recapitulation. These processes are the nat- 
 ural outcome of quite simple psychological facts, and 
 are duplicated in literature and other arts. The an- 
 noxmcement of a theme is the preliminary statement, 
 
 xxiv 
 
GENERAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 made as simple and as brief as possible, of the thought 
 with which the composer proposes to occupy himself. 
 For the listener, it is the presentation of a bit of melody 
 of a particular rhythmic profile which he remembers 
 by this profile, this characteristic combination of long 
 and short, accented and unaccented notes, just as he 
 remembers a person by the shape of his face. Careful 
 attention to the main themes of a composition is of 
 vital importance to appreciation, since the themes are 
 the actors of the musical drama, and all the action is 
 reaUy only the working out of their latent character- 
 istics. 
 
 This is what we mean by development. In no music 
 worthy of the name is development an artificial, intel- 
 lectual process; it is simply the germination of the 
 theme-seeds. As it results, however, in constantly in- 
 creasing complexity, it would quickly confuse the lis- 
 tener were it not judiciously combined with simple 
 repetitions of the original ideas, serving both to mark 
 the completion of one cycle of development and some- 
 times to initiate a new one. The recapitulations insure 
 the unity of the impression as a whole made by the 
 work of art; the developments give it the richness and 
 variety inseparable from all life. 
 
 The many special musical forms of which the student 
 will read are merely so many clearly defined combina- 
 tions of these three processes. Thus in the minuet, for 
 example, a comparatively primitive form, there is one 
 theme, expounded, developed, and recapitulated, and 
 in the second part called trio, a second theme treated 
 exactly the same way. In the 'Song form' so called, 
 used for slow movements of sonatas and symphonies, 
 there is usually an exposition of a theme, a slight de- 
 velopment, and an ornamented or otherwise varied 
 repetition; then, without any complete stop, a contrast- 
 ing theme, treated much the same way; finally, a return 
 of the main theme, either treated as at first or some- 
 
 xxv 
 
THE ART OF MUSIC 
 
 what more briefly. Sometimes there is a short coda 
 (concluding section) with further slight development 
 of one or both themes. 
 
 The sonata form, as we have already seen, is distin- 
 guished from both these more rudimentary types by 
 having two themes of almost equal importance — some- 
 times three. These contrast with each other in expres- 
 sion, rhythm, and what is called 'key.' Their develop- 
 ment is extended and occupies the entire middle part 
 of the piece. They are regularly recapitulated much 
 as at first, but now both in the same 'key,' and may be 
 followed by a coda, which with Beethoven assumes 
 sometimes almost the importance of a second develop- 
 ment. In the rondo there is a constant alternation be- 
 tween a main theme and other secondary themes or 
 sections of development. 
 
 Thus in all the special forms we find but different 
 applications of the three fundamental processes of ex- 
 position, development, and recapitulation, much as all 
 plants go through the necessary cycle of seeding, 
 growth, and blossoming. The more the music of the 
 great symphonic masters is studied the more marvel- 
 lous will the reader find the mingling of ingenuity and 
 simplicity with which they know how to marshal their 
 thoughts. Such study makes listening no longer a pas- 
 sive or even wearisome process, but the most fascinat- 
 ing reliving of a spiritual life as many-sided, as 
 infinitely various, as filled with beauty, as that of Na- 
 ture herself. 
 
 Daniel Gregory Mason. 
 June, 1914. 
 
 xxvi 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 BOOK I 
 
 xxvii 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF 
 MUSIC 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Musical art is the idealized art of the inner man as 
 distinguished from the arts of painting and sculpture 
 and their like which are the idealized expression of 
 what is outside him. It is the result of the urgent 
 impulses of certain peculiarly constituted human be- 
 ings to express things which move them in ways which 
 are favorable to permanence; which permanence 
 proves attainable only through the controlling influ- 
 ence of the instinct for order. 
 
 The instinct for order and the impulse to gratify 
 it in all directions seem to be present in all unper- 
 verted human beings; which is obviously the conse- 
 quence of the fact that it has always ministered to the 
 preservation of those who possessed it. The primitive 
 savage who kept his weapons in some kind of orderly 
 fashion, and knew where to lay his hands on them 
 when wanted, easily survived the disorderly savage 
 who could not find them soon enough to prevent being 
 exterminated. The primitive savage who could dispose 
 his means of existence in an orderly fashion was more 
 likely to survive the savage who had no proper place 
 for anything; and there were thousands of other ways 
 in which this instinct favored its possessor; and 
 favored him more and more as social and anti-social 
 conditions progressed in complexity. Looked at from 
 another point of view, that of experience, the lack of 
 the sense of order betokens low mental power; and 
 
 xxix 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the possession of it in higher and higher degrees is 
 a token of higher and higher capacities of mind. 
 
 The sense of order is the basis of organization; and 
 out of organization comes permanence. The more per- 
 fect the organization the more lasting is the thing or- 
 ganized. What is well built is well organized for its 
 purpose, and stands fast. What is ill built is badly 
 organized for its purpose, and tumbles down. And so 
 it is with a work of literature. It cannot be said that 
 a noble thought ill-presented will soon be forgotten; 
 but its being ill-presented makes it obscure. And it 
 must be admitted that fascination is added to the ut- 
 terance of a great thought by the perfect clearness and 
 nicety with which it is expressed. The presentation is 
 in that sense admirably organized and the mind wel- 
 comes it, and returns to it frequently with delight; 
 whereas if it is clumsily expressed it gives the mind 
 unnecessary trouble to understand what it means, and 
 then there is a feeling of distaste and annoyance which 
 prejudices the welcome that the great thought merits. 
 
 So it is with a work of art. Clumsiness and inco- 
 herence of structure beget discomfort, however great 
 the intentions. Imperfections which may not be no- 
 ticed at first grow more and more oppressive, till they 
 become unbearable, and at last mankind is impelled 
 to regard the good intentions as little better than oppor- 
 tunities wasted. 
 
 It may be justly argued that such imperfections are 
 inevitable not only because art represents human ef- 
 forts but because organization takes centuries to effect. 
 It is also true that certain types of imperfection are 
 pathetically attractive and afford a kind of interest 
 in themselves where they suggest the kind of human 
 condition and effort which is characteristic of the time 
 and circumstances in which any individual work of 
 art was produced. But in such case it is necessary 
 that the motive shall be honorable. After ages will 
 
 XXX 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 never be able to regard the deficiencies in modem 
 church and chapel architecture, stained glass windows, 
 modern tombstones and suburban villa residences with 
 anything but disgust. Putting such aberrations aside 
 for the present, it is pleasant to realize that one of the 
 privileges of an instinct for style is to be able to recog- 
 nize the stage of organization which has been reached, 
 both in diction and structure, by the qualities of any 
 work of art, and to locate the type of organization and 
 balance its proportionate relation to what is expressed, 
 and, more subtly still, to discern even the intention. 
 Men who have any artistic instinct estimate the quality 
 of a work of art by such an adjustment. They feel its 
 nobility if it has any, even though the standard of 
 organization is low, by estimating the quality of the 
 thought in connection with the inevitable limitations 
 of the means of expression. A work of art may 
 inspire constant delight even though its form be ob- 
 vious and its details crude, if the methods employed 
 are sincere efforts to express with the best means 
 available an inspiring idea. Limitations do not neces- 
 sarily imply false construction. There is this to be 
 remembered: that the progress of thought and the 
 progress of organization proceed together and that a 
 thought which clearly belongs to several generations 
 ago will not be as complex or have to cover so much 
 ground as the thought of later times of equal status; 
 and that the limitation of the means of organization 
 of the time to which the thought belongs will there- 
 fore be adequate and congenial to that thought, where- 
 as, if a composer or artist use only the resources of dic- 
 tion and design of two hundred years ago to express a 
 modern thought, the deficiency of the organization be- 
 comes at once apparent. 
 
 It is worth while to observe parenthetically that in 
 primitive stages of art men did not attempt organiza- 
 tion in order to give permanence to their artistic prod- 
 
 xxxi 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 ucts. Their attitude was that of the unconscious child, 
 and they merely sought to gratify their instinct for 
 order, and arrived at the principle of organization in 
 the process. So the beginnings of art were the direct 
 result of the inevitable processes of the universe. Men 
 found out the relation of organization to permanence 
 long afterward, when they developed the capacity to 
 analyze and consider what they were doing. 
 
 Mankind, like the individual, passes through three 
 stages in his manner of producing and doing things. 
 The first is unconscious and spontaneous, the second 
 is self -critical, analytical, and self-conscious; and the 
 third is the synthesis which comes of the recovery of 
 spontaneity with all the advantages of the absorption 
 of right principles of action. In the products of the 
 first stage people delight in spite of crudity and clumsi- 
 ness because they are fervent, genuine, essentially hu- 
 man. The products of the second are often ineffectual, 
 occasionally suggestive, and for the most part more 
 historically than humanly interesting. It is in the last 
 phase that the greatest works of musical art are pro- 
 duced; and it is in such works of art that the approxi- 
 mation to perfection may be found, in which there is 
 no part which has not some relation to every other 
 part; nothing which does not minister to the fullness 
 with which the inner idea of the artist is expressed; in 
 which every curve of melody, every progression of 
 harmony, every modulation, every rhythmic group, 
 every climax and relaxation of stress, every shade of 
 color, and every part of the inner texture at once 
 ministers to coherent and cogent expression and at 
 the same time fulfills its function in the general scheme 
 of design or organization. From mere elementary 
 orderliness art has progressed in such things to the 
 very highest manifestations of the subtlest and most 
 perfect organization which the human mind is capable 
 of achieving. But it must be admitted that such an 
 
 xxxii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ideal is only reached in very rare cases, by masters 
 whose complete absorption in the work of artistic 
 creation is undisturbed by distracting influences; who 
 can maintain their concentration through a prolonged 
 and coherent effort; and who have the gift to apply 
 their faculties and successfully call upon their minds 
 to provide exactly the right methods and procedures 
 whenever required, and at the same time to hold 
 everything balanced by the requirements of propor- 
 tionate relation which is indispensable to true artistic 
 organization. 
 
 It is to such perfection that all true artists aspire, 
 and it is only those who are absolutely true to them- 
 selves who can even approximate to it. In days when 
 commercialism is rampant and the favor of such as 
 are totally ignorant of the most elementary artistic 
 principles is held to be the criterion of artistic worth, it 
 practically becomes impossible. 
 
 There are two phases of organization. The first is 
 the organization of terms, signs, methods, materials, 
 some of which must be found before art begins, but 
 most of which are found as it evolves. The second 
 phase is the organization of the individual works of 
 art. The parallel that springs to mind at the moment 
 is the organization of units and supplies of an army, on 
 the one hand, and, on the other, the organization of 
 the campaign and the engagements for which the 
 forces and their needs were organized. Upon the 
 former kind of organization it is not necessary to dwell. 
 It is an obvious necessity of art. But, though part of it, 
 it does not illustrate or affect the quality of the art 
 products except in a purely elementary and mechanical 
 sense. Of the latter kind, which manifests itself inevi- 
 tably in varying degrees in every musical work from 
 the cheapest popular song to the highest instrumental 
 symphony, it must be admitted that it is worth while 
 to have some little understanding; especially of the 
 
 xxxiii 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 relations to one another of the various branches and 
 factors in the artistic scheme which the study of such 
 things in detail is apt to miss. 
 
 At the outset the curious anomaly may be admitted 
 that expression and organization appear to be an- 
 tagonistic. This is only one way of recognizing that 
 art, like everything else, is achieved by the accommoda- 
 tion of opposites. The very idea of human feeling 
 being expressed in preconceived set terms sounds so 
 preposterous as to be almost repugnant. Yet if it is 
 not expressed in set terms how should it maintain its 
 hold upon the mind? We know by experience that 
 human feeling upsets organization (as, for instance, 
 in the confusion of rhythm into which highly emotional 
 performers and singers are driven), and that organiza- 
 tion stifles human feeling (as, for instance, in the empty, 
 inadequate words that are stuffed into poetry to make 
 rhymes, and the ridiculous shams that are stuffed in 
 architecture as in music to make a pattern complete). 
 But, as a matter of fact, though language also might be 
 described as antagonistic to feeling, yet feeling cannot 
 definitely be conveyed to other beings without being 
 formalized into words, and the words arranged ac- 
 cording to the recognized rules of prosody. And, as a 
 matter of experience, when language has become, as it 
 does, a spontaneous means of expressing feeling, it 
 very often intensifies the feelings that it is used to ex- 
 press. Many men are more excited by their own vio- 
 lent language than by the motives which caused them 
 to give vent to it. So in art some men only begin to 
 find out how strong their feelings are when they try 
 to put them into shape. The mere fact of organizing 
 effective climaxes according to settled principles causes 
 them to believe in deep-set passion which they would 
 not otherwise have suspected in themselves. Oratory 
 is never in itself a proof of greatness or even sincerity 
 of soul. 
 
 xxxiv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 So it cannot be maintained that the appearance of 
 antagonism is fully borne out by experience. But 
 what is evident is that the human element represents 
 instability and the constructive element stability; and 
 the adjustment of the two keeps art alive. All art that 
 has life in it must be in unstable equilibrium, for, in- 
 deed, all thought whatever induces instability. Stable 
 equilibrium, if such a thing could be conceivable, is 
 merely abeyance of activity. As a matter of fact there 
 is no part of the universe which is in stable equilibrium, 
 art as little as the rest of it. Art is, in the widest sense, 
 man's highest expression of the Spirit of the Universe; 
 that is of the effects which are produced in his inner 
 man by his personal experiences in it and his cogita- 
 tions about it, and art's life is governed by the same 
 laws. In the universe all things seem to tend toward 
 stable equilibrium, and yet of necessity when it seems 
 to be approached some new direction of force disturbs 
 it and sets up new systems of motions which may last 
 for ages. So in art there has been a tendency to deal 
 with the claims of feeling and the claims of form at 
 different times. At certain periods in art's history the 
 human element predominated and the claims of or- 
 ganization were either ignored or overlooked. The 
 result was incoherence, and the need of more circum- 
 spect procedure gave organization an excessive spell of 
 attention. Convention then took the place of realities 
 and art became the playground of ingenious dry-as- 
 dusts, till the human element again asserted its claims 
 and progress swayed in the direction of instability 
 again; and so the great rhythm was maintained. 
 
 But it would be absurd to pretend that the alterna- 
 tion proceeded regularly without yielding to external 
 influences. The direction which art took was often in- 
 fluenced by social conditions external to itself. A 
 chance whiff of fashion or a wave of impulse in favor 
 of intellectual subtleties would naturally cause a phase 
 
 XXXV 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of art in which human feeling would be crowded out 
 by superfluity of organizing ingenuity. A state of so- 
 ciety in which a few people enjoyed the results of their 
 ancestors having annexed all the material advantages 
 of the world and regarded the rest of humanity as 
 merely provided by Providence to minister to their 
 vanities, would be peculiarly favorable to the exuber- 
 ance of conventional pattern-making and elegant futili- 
 ties; while the successful overthrow of such a poison- 
 ous tradition and the general acceptance of the widest 
 claims of humanity to common justice naturally 
 brought an overwhelming impulse of human feeling 
 into play. But the apparent derangement of the ebb 
 and flow was not actually destructive of the principle, 
 but only affected the length of the periods and the ex- 
 tent of the one influence on the other. 
 
 As a rule the instinctive discernment of humanity 
 was so far just that it is far more easy to point to pe- 
 riods when human feeling predominated than to those 
 when the organizing instinct predominated. This was 
 natural because all artistic beings are, as far as the 
 impulse is concerned, at the outset bent upon express- 
 ing feelings of some sort. Even those who have more 
 aptitude for technical efficiency than mind are not 
 actually aiming at producing supernaturally correct 
 grammatical exercises. They are always much of- 
 fended if such a thing is suggested. The unsophisti- 
 cated lovers of music who have no technical knowledge 
 to speak of are always concerned with the human side 
 of it, they are moved by the sound, the color, the 
 rhythm, the character of the melody, and, as far as 
 they can get at it, by the idea the composer wants to 
 express. It lies with the unsophisticated to maintain 
 the claims of that side of art, as Wagner suggested 
 when he said that he made his works for the not- 
 musicians. 
 
 The fully instructed are inevitably inclined to over- 
 
 xxxvi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 estimate mere workmanship. The wonder that is in- 
 spired by supremely masterly organization impels ex- 
 perts to be carried away by their admiration of it; and» 
 moreover, it is practicable to discuss that aspect of art 
 fully and clearly, whereas language is not apt to discuss 
 the meaning and spirit of musical art, for the obvious 
 reason that it is the business of music to express things 
 that are beyond the reach of words. And it is pathetic 
 to think how many thousands of people who have 
 musical insight, and are really moved and inspired by 
 it, are, through their very conscientious desire to under- 
 stand it, misled into supposing that organization and 
 dexterous use of the methods of art are the things 
 that are of highest importance. This has been the bane 
 of the greater part of theoretic writing about art and is 
 the thing which arouses rebellion in ardent and aspir- 
 ing minds against the stress that is laid on principles of 
 form and grammatical orthodoxies. To such disposi- 
 tions it seems preposterous to devote so much atten- 
 tion to the organization and to take so little count of 
 the thing organized; and their antagonism is indeed 
 very serviceable. For, however ridiculous the results 
 their ardor often produces, they do help to keep art 
 alive and to prevent its being stifled by conventions. 
 And they do maintain the necessary protest against 
 the paralyzing theory that has at times been pro- 
 pounded, that art is merely a special manifestation of 
 clever mechanical ingenuity. Coherent organization is 
 indeed a necessary condition of art, but the thing or- 
 ganized is of the foremost importance. The idea comes 
 first and the organization is secondary. Yet the one is 
 futile without the other; the idea cannot be conveyed 
 without the organization, but organization without 
 something to organize is mere superfluity. The idea 
 without organization is mere incoherence; mere organi- 
 zation without meaning is empty puzzle making. Neither 
 by itself has any claim to be distinguished as art. 
 
 xxxvii 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 The ways in which a work of art can be organized 
 are practically innumerable; but in musical art they 
 all have the simple structural basis of a departure from 
 a given point to a point or many points of contrast and 
 back home again. The infinite number of varieties 
 depends on the manner in which the central point is 
 established, and how the departure from it is made; 
 how the contrasting middle portion is organized, and 
 how the return home is established. The evolution of 
 principles of form consists in the elaboration of the 
 main divisions into subordinate contrasts, contrasts to 
 contrasts, inner organic procedures, devices of struc- 
 ture which are linked and superimposed on one an- 
 other, in which the steps that lead away from the main 
 centre are successively distributed in subtle gradations, 
 all of which are available to make the adaptation to 
 the idea more perfect. The story of the evolution is 
 perspicuously clear, as the vast amount of devoted and, 
 latterly, intelligent labor which has been expended 
 upon collecting folk-songs and specimens of quasi- 
 musical phrases of savages has completed the story 
 from the first appearance of the desire for some kind 
 of orderliness up to the portentous elaborations of 
 European music of the present day. 
 
 The way complication has been built upon compli- 
 cation may be easily grasped by observing the succes- 
 sive stages of art for which organization had to be 
 provided. At first it had only to serve for a single 
 melodic line; then, in the period of ecclesiastical choral 
 music, for two or more combined melodic lines; then 
 composers combined more and more melodic lines as 
 they found out how it could be done, and this caused 
 their minds to be almost monopolized by what may 
 be called linear organization, which is a systematized 
 relation of melodic parts which are quasi independent, 
 but knit into unity by their subjection to the rules of 
 melodic scales, which were called modes. The highest 
 
 xxxviii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 outcome of long and concentrated thought in this di- 
 rection was the type of organization known as the 
 fugue, which is a linear principle of organization vital- 
 ized by the systematic distribution of recognizable 
 melodic phrases. Fugue was the first form in which 
 the musical idea was the most prominent factor in 
 organization, and in the hands of genuine composers 
 was developed to a high degree of perfection. But it 
 left almost unrealized the problem of organization 
 which dawned upon men's minds as necessary when 
 they began to feel the harmonies which were the re- 
 sult of combined melodious parts as entities in them- 
 selves. This problem was dealt with in the period 
 when men devoted themselves to the classification of 
 harmonies in key systems, which gave every harmony 
 a definite function in artistic organization; and the ca- 
 pacity of the human mind was developed till it could 
 recognize one succession of harmonies as representing 
 one key centre and another succession of harmonies as 
 representing another key centre, and this made an or- 
 derly succession of key centres the new basis of organi- 
 zation. Then the human mind grew to be able to dis- 
 cern these principles of order when composers dis- 
 pensed with the sounding of the concrete harmonies 
 and only represented them by ornamental procedures; 
 through which the trained mind can perceive and infer 
 the groups of harmonic successions which are implied 
 and recognize the respective keys to which they be- 
 long. Complication yet further expanded the basis of 
 organization as composers approached what may be 
 called the extreme of sophistication, which became at- 
 tainable by a reversion to the linear system, in which 
 harmony was again suffused by polyphonic methods, 
 and the individual notes of the ornamental formulas 
 themselves are made to represent centres of activity 
 and have their own harmonization; which harmoniza- 
 tion subsists in spite of its apparent clashing with the 
 
 xxxix 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 hannoiiization of other ornamental notes, which the 
 mind is able to endure because it intellectually segre- 
 gates the notes which represent different systems and 
 allots them to their respective centres and so keeps 
 them apart from one another. The superimposition of 
 device upon device is like a perpetual budding from 
 a germ cell, with the additional analogy to things phys- 
 ical, that each generation is always consistent in its 
 characteristics and identifiable. The quickness of the 
 human mind at grasping the especial type of organiza- 
 tion which it has to accept, in order to follow the idea 
 of the composer, is one of its most extraordinary ca- 
 pacities; as is the development of the art which enables 
 the adequately equipped composer to be sure that his 
 most subtle sophistications are sure to meet with under- 
 standing from the auditors who are equally well 
 equipped. When an ignoramus looks at a full score of 
 any big modem work and sees there the hundreds of 
 notes that are to be sounded in a few seconds, and 
 sounded also for the fraction of a second and no more, 
 most of which are not harmony notes but only suggest 
 them by the way they are grouped, and yet convey to 
 the qualified auditor a perfect sense of orderhness and 
 coherence, it will either give him the sense of the 
 amazing development of art and of human capacity to 
 follow what is offered to it as art, or incredulity, in ac- 
 cordance with his temperamental bias. 
 
 But it has to be remembered that, in order to find 
 any method of organization serviceable, the auditor 
 must have gone through some of the steps which en- 
 able him to follow the procedure. It is here that cer- 
 tain perplexing incapacities will find their explanation. 
 It frequently happens that a person of considerable 
 musical culture is amazed to find that some passage 
 which he regards as one of the noblest and most mov- 
 ing in the whole range of art leaves the majority of av- 
 erage audiences entirely blank and unmoved — and this 
 
 xl 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 may happen with people who are constantly hearing 
 music. It happens most frequently when a person who 
 cultivates late phases of instrumental music is brought 
 into contact with the finest choral music of the six- 
 teenth century. The meaning and purpose of the sev- 
 eral motions have not come under his attention and he 
 has no clue whatever to the scheme of organization. 
 The contempt with which the complacent classicist of 
 the sonata period looked down upon the form of the 
 fugue was owing to musicians having broken alto- 
 gether for the time with organization of the fugal type 
 and having become incapable of listening to and un- 
 derstanding the motions of two or three independent 
 parts at once. For here it will be as well to observe 
 that every step in the building up of art by the addition 
 of notes to a scale, of new chords which were devised, 
 and of methods and devices of all sorts had special 
 functions when they were invented, just as much as 
 every conceivable feature in architecture had a func- 
 tion. But mankind always forgot the original meaning 
 very soon and applied the various features to other 
 purposes, most of which were quite without meaning 
 and merely served for barren show. And it is this 
 forgetfulness which makes so many people totally in- 
 different to the finest artistic achievements. They are 
 expressed in a language they do not understand. 
 
 It must be obvious that there is a very close connec- 
 tion between the type and complexity of organization 
 and the standard of mental development of those for 
 whom it is devised. The study of folk-music and the 
 music of primitive savages is very enUghtening in this 
 respect; especially in respect of the organization, which 
 is based in great part on musical phrases. As might 
 be naturally supposed the earliest sign of awakening 
 intelligence is found in mere reiteration of some melo- 
 dic or rhythmic formula. This is essentially the primi- 
 tive savage type and is met with in extraordinary per- 
 
 xU 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 sistency under varied conditions. It is a most remark- 
 able fact that such undisguised reiteration is a con- 
 spicuous feature of the music of relatively undeveloped 
 races in the present day, who have adopted the ad- 
 vanced methods of modem music with remarkable 
 success. It is the more curious as the composers of 
 the more developed races do not resort to such naive 
 reiteration except as a basis for presenting a phrase or 
 passage in different lights by variation. And with the 
 undeveloped races their reversion to a primitive prac- 
 tice, especially at points of great excitement, is an un- 
 conscious admission of the nearness of their tempera- 
 mental average to that of their primitive ancestry. As 
 a principle mere reiteration is hardly worthy of the 
 name of organization, it might rather be called a pre- 
 liminary procedure, or a means of keeping things go- 
 ing. It does not imply any mental development, it only 
 implies some kind of definition and capacity of recog- 
 nition. The first step toward real organization comes 
 when a phrase or short passage of melody is alternated 
 with another which serves as a contrast with it, and 
 returns again to the first phrase to give the sense of 
 completeness. Yet even such a simple principle of 
 orderliness needed considerable progress in mental 
 grasp before it could be attained. It might perhaps 
 be regarded as the significant feature which disting- 
 guishes folk-music from savage music. Folk-music 
 is indeed a very considerable advance on the music 
 of primitive savages, and it shows the growth of power 
 to attain to real orderliness, as the basis of art, by the 
 employment of simple and clear forms of organization, 
 which are evolved quite irrespective of any collusion 
 or imitation between the races that resorted to it. As 
 folk-music is always melodic it did not admit of great 
 variety of elaboration in the organization of the tunes, 
 yet there was sufiicient to illustrate the average dispo- 
 sition toward intellectuality of the races which the 
 
 xlii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 songs represent. Races which are notable for the 
 quickness of their intelligence and their delight in the 
 exercise of it show it in the closeness and interest of 
 the structure of their folk-music, as is the case with 
 Scotch tunes, and those whom imagination, feeling, or 
 sentiment are specially liable to dominate are repre- 
 sented by forms which are vaguer and less elaborately 
 organized. On the side of character, also, it is paren- 
 thetically observable that folk tunes reflect the temper- 
 amental qualities of the races and localities to which 
 they belong most truthfully — such as the vivacity and 
 love of orderly design of the French, the pathos and 
 pugnacity of the Irish, the sober simplicity and de- 
 liberation of the English, the sentimental reflective- 
 ness of Germans, the spasmodic vehemence of Hun- 
 garians, and the love of elaborate ornamentation of 
 Orientals, Slavonic folk-music is also most character- 
 istic, but it is most difficult to define. It has in most 
 cases a flavor of the playful unconsciousness of youth, 
 simplicity of structure and a kind of pathetic gaiety. 
 This close connection between a race or a geographical 
 attitude of mind and its folk-music is really a fore- 
 taste of the connection which persisted throughout 
 the whole story of art's evolution. A people's music 
 so accurately represents its temperamental qualities 
 that, if there was any doubt about a race's character, 
 the music they favor would solve it. In folk-music 
 the element of rhythm figures very considerably; and, 
 as it is a subject about which a great deal of confusion 
 of mind seems to exist, it is advisable to give a little 
 attention to it. It is a defining and vitalizing influence 
 of the highest importance; for it is only through 
 rhythm that the individual factors of organization be- 
 come identifiable. It is through the grouping of beats 
 into two, three, four, five, six, and so on that the nuclei 
 which are the basis of organization are grouped into 
 coherent and distinguishable factors. Inasmuch as a 
 
 xliii 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 note is nothing by itself, and only becomes something 
 when it has relation to another note, and, as these notes 
 must succeed one another in time, it is necessary to 
 have some means of defining the respective lengths of 
 time which are to be relatively allotted to the respec- 
 tive notes; and rhythm is the process by which the 
 progress of sounds in time is marked off and organized. 
 Without it there would be mere vagueness and con- 
 fusion. 
 
 This is the aspect of rhythm froni the point of view 
 of organization. That was not its object in the begin- 
 ning, but to minister to expression of feeling. All peo- 
 ple who have not attained to an advanced stage of 
 culture and intelligence delight in rhythm; and the 
 sphere it occupies in folk-music is enlightening; for its 
 preponderance varies considerably. In some folk- 
 music it is always conspicuous, as in Hungarian and 
 French folk-music; in some it is only moderately ap- 
 parent and rarely aggressive, except when the words 
 associated with it imply vigorous action, as in English 
 and German folk-music. There are obvious implica- 
 tions which are suggested by the fact. The aggres- 
 sively rhythnaic music shows a predisposition for in- 
 strumental music, and the less rhythmic for vocal 
 music. The former represents the music of action 
 and the latter the music of inner feeling. The former 
 secular feeling and the latter serious feeling associated 
 with religion of some sort. 
 
 Rhythm suggests bodily activity. Its essential func- 
 tion is to represent the expression of feelings by mo- 
 tions of the body, arms, legs, or any part that can 
 move freely. This is verified by the fact that rhythmic 
 music impels people to join in with hands and feet, and 
 this is also the underlying basis of dance music; for 
 the object of dance music is to inspire people to rhyth- 
 mic activity, and its connection with expression is veri- 
 fied by the fact that so much dance music, even in the 
 
 xliv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 earliest times, has been mimetic. The position of 
 rhythm in artistic music is strange, for it is undeniable 
 that the preponderant impulse of serious composers 
 is to hide it away in sophistications. Indeed, for many 
 centuries it was, possibly unconsciously, kept at bay. 
 Pure unsophisticated rhythm belongs to the primitives. 
 It is not the form of expression congenial to self- 
 respecting and developed races when they are taking 
 anything serious in hand. This is partly because it 
 does, as above remarked, represent physical expres- 
 sion, which is not the type to which intellectual people 
 are prone. Developed minds want to convince by argu- 
 ment; primitive people by force. Moreover, rhythm 
 is not progressive. In its direct forms it is probably 
 much as it was with the cave dwellers. Its limitations 
 are obvious; and its simple forms are indicative of a 
 primitive state in those that use it. 
 
 As a matter of fact, it seems to be the ingrained im- 
 pulse of composers whose feeling for their art is highly 
 developed to disguise it, as though the frank use of it 
 was commonplace and cheap. What appears to be 
 progress in rhythm is indeed not in rhythm itself, but 
 in that very sophistication. It is like the sophistication 
 of metre dn the blank verse of Shakespeare or Milton, 
 or even in the lyric poetry of Shelley and Keats and 
 later poets, which makes English lyrics so difficult for 
 inefficient and unliterary composers to set. The par- 
 allel in poetry and verse is complete. For the jog-trot 
 of those indifferent poets who make an appeal to the 
 undeveloped minds of the herd is poetry of a low order, 
 just as is the rhythmic commonplace of cheap-minded 
 composers. 
 
 The higher type of composer deals with rhythm as 
 with everything else. He uses the simple basis of a 
 definite rhythm to build upon it something interesting. 
 What would be commonplace and familiar is made 
 worthy of the name of art by its pi'esentation in rela- 
 
 xlv 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 tion to other rhythms, or in combination with an inde- 
 pendent grouping of strong and weak beats which gives 
 it new significance. Such sophistication of rhythm was 
 very difficult in the times when music was confined to 
 one melodic part. But it became easy when choral 
 music developed into contrapuntal treatment of melo- 
 dic voice parts, and it attained in later days to the 
 highest pitch of interest when the harmonic style was 
 reinfused with polyphonic methods, and full oppor- 
 tunities were afforded for combining different rhythms 
 at once, and ordinary rhythms in one part could be 
 made quite interesting or amusing through their asso- 
 ciation with other parts which are purposely at vari- 
 ance with the essential rhythm. By such procedure 
 composers succeeded in avoiding the use of common 
 property and could enjoy the inestimable services of 
 rhythm as a vitalizer and a definer without condescend- 
 ing from their high estate. The reticence of the higher 
 type of composer in the matter of rhythm, and his 
 tendency to refrain from such undisguised relaxation, 
 is curiously confirmed by the history of sacred music. 
 It is a very singular fact that, in the long period of over 
 five centuries, during which church music was devel- 
 oped from the most primitive conditions till it mani- 
 fested such wonderful perfection of spirit and work- 
 manship at the end of the sixteenth century, compos- 
 ers, guided by instinct rather than conscious reason- 
 ing, always endeavored to suppress or hide the sense of 
 rhythm. As music began to grow from the doubling of 
 plain-song at the intervals of fifths and fourths and 
 octaves (which was so convenient to the different cali- 
 bres of the voices which had to sing it), by filling in 
 the steps between one principal note and another with 
 shorter notes, and so developed primitive counterpoint, 
 composers soon began to aim at giving the effect of 
 independence to human voices by making them move 
 at different times and in different directions; by mak- 
 
 xlvi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ing use of syncopations, suspensions, dotted notes that 
 overlapped one another, and all such procedures as 
 obscured the rhythmic element. And even when, ow- 
 ing to special circumstances, they were driven to make 
 parts move simultaneously, as in later harmonic pro- 
 cedure, they made the chords halt and move again, and 
 even occasionally drop the principal accent, to obviate 
 the sense of rhythmic lilt — as may be observed in some 
 of the hymn tunes of Orlando Gibbons, which have had 
 to be altered and made quite commonplace in modern 
 times to suit the mechanical habits of modern congre- 
 gations. 
 
 This curious persistence may be explained by the fact 
 that devotional feeling is not demonstrative. West- 
 ern people in really devotional frame of mind do not 
 gesticulate or fling their arms and legs about to express 
 their feelings, but are bowed down in spiritual ecstasy. 
 The music was the true expression of the spirit; and, 
 till secular music began to react upon religious music 
 after the beginning of the seventeenth century, the 
 music of the services of the church might fairly be 
 described as anti-rhythmic. And it still remains a fact 
 that whenever rhythm makes its appearance promi- 
 nently in music which purports to be devotional it is 
 a proof of its insincerity. But there are always many 
 things which concur in achieving a big result, and it 
 must be admitted that conjoined with the instinct 
 which avoided rhythm in religious music was the fact 
 that all the early religious music was essentially vocal; 
 and vocal music in its purest simplicity is compara- 
 tively unrhythmic. It learnt definite and consistent 
 rhythm from instrumental music when that came to be 
 cultivated with vigor from the beginning of the seven- 
 teenth century onward. It is true that dance music 
 was sung, and that the Balletti of such a delightful 
 composer as Morley have wonderful rhythmic verve; 
 but such compositions represent the time when musical 
 
 xlvii 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 expansion was moving strongly in a secular direction 
 and instruments were beginning to exert their influ- 
 ence. The greater madrigals of the late sixteenth and 
 early seventeenth centuries still illustrate the inherent 
 peculiarity of pure choral music and give ample proofs 
 of the composers' endeavors to disguise the rhythmic 
 element and represent the underlying principle of the 
 grouping of strong and weak beats without adopting 
 obvious rhythmic organization. Instrumental music, 
 on the other hand, inevitably implies rhythm. In its 
 most primitive phases it was probably nothing but 
 rhythm, and that rhythm of a perfectly frank and un- 
 disguised description. In its early artistic, phases it 
 was generally full of rhythmic life without obtruding 
 the rhythm as a special means of appeal to the audi- 
 ence, as is the case in modern popular music. The 
 deeply ingrained" habits of counterpoint which still 
 persisted in the eighteenth century made even suites 
 of dance tunes so full of texture in detail that the 
 rhythm was rather the basis of the definition of pulses 
 than a factor in the effect. If the story of modem 
 music were followed up with special reference to 
 rhythm it would be found that the aim of all com- 
 posers who took their art seriously has been to avoid 
 the commonplaces and to sophisticate rhythm in such 
 a way as to make it serve as an additional source of 
 expression, instead of a mere mechanical incitement to 
 movement. The increase of orchestral instruments of- 
 fered ample opportunities to sophisticate rhythms in 
 a manner analogous to the charming effects of early 
 choral music, in which syncopation and cross-rhythms 
 add a genuine interest to the fundamental rhythm and 
 seem to play with the hearers by making them feel that 
 one rhythm is superimposed on another. Even in ac- 
 tual modem dance tunes of the best kind the impulse 
 to add something independent to the fundamental 
 rhythm is found in such devices as tying over the 
 
 xlviii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 last note of a group of three in a valse to the strong 
 beat of the succeeding rhythmic group, while the es- 
 sential rhythm is maintained by the bass or other in- 
 struments of the accompaniment, and composers have 
 even successfully devised such attractive ingenuities as 
 the effect of three long beats being superimposed on 
 two groups of the three lesser beats of the established 
 rhythm. The well-known combination in Mozart's 
 Don Giovanni of a minuet and a valse each in triple 
 time and a country dance in |. time is one of the most 
 ingenious illustrations of such combined rhythms. The 
 essential basis of all such devices is the sophistication 
 of the obvious, which is the natural impulse of every 
 true composer. 
 
 Such sophistication is, however, ultimately depend- 
 ent on the development of harmony into its latest 
 polyphonic phases, which represent the furthest prog- 
 ress of intellectual perception in the races which make 
 use of it. The use of harmonies systematized on the 
 basis of tonalities is the highest development in respect 
 of expression that has been attained in art and it has 
 become a means of widening the possibilities of organi- 
 zation which seems to be unlimited. It is said of a 
 famous English philosopher, whose range of intellec- 
 tual power was abnormal, that he wept because he 
 thought that the range of melodic variety was ex- 
 haustible. He was possibly one of the many whose 
 musical sense is not sufficiently developed to under- 
 stand progressions of harmony. For, if he had known 
 that every note of every melody is capable of being 
 accompanied by an immense number of different har- 
 monies, probably several dozens apiece, and that each 
 different harmony is capable of altering altogether the 
 expressive character of the melodic note in relation 
 to other notes of the melody, and that the changes 
 in expression not only apply to notes which are con- 
 tiguous but to notes that are several steps removed, 
 
 xlix 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 he need not have been distressed at the limitations of 
 the musical scale as developed by European peoples. 
 But this does not by any means exhaust the possibili- 
 ties of expressive effect, because the same harmony 
 will have a different effect if it is in close order or in 
 open order; if it is in close order in a high part of the 
 scale or a low part of the scale; and the melodic sig- 
 nificance is also variable with the rhythmic treatment 
 to which it is subjected. The full force of harmonies 
 to minister to expression was dependent on the sys- 
 tematization of chords on a tonal basis. This had been 
 in the air for a long time before composers definitely 
 grappled with the problem, as may be observed in the 
 splendid use J. S. Bach made of the expressive re- 
 sources of harmony. But it was the classical masters of 
 the sonata period who dealt with the matter effectually. 
 They based their scheme of organization on the recog- 
 nition of a complete classification of the harmonic con- 
 tents of any key; which implied a recognition of the 
 actual degrees of importance and of the functions of 
 each individual chord. This scheme also required as 
 its most essential guaranty a very strict recognition 
 and observance of each key that became a factor in the 
 form; and also the apprehension of chords as chords. 
 But when the true polyphonic spirit invaded the 
 sacred precincts of the sonata type, and means were 
 supplied to slip from diatonic chord to chromatic chord, 
 and even for a composer to lead the pleasingly bewil- 
 dered hearer into some unimaginable remote key and 
 back, it began to dawn on people that the achievement 
 of even such an admirable principle of organization as 
 the sonata form had not landed musicians in their final 
 haven, but that in reality the sonata period was merely 
 one of transition — a kind of interim, like that of the 
 aria form in opera, when men forebore for a time to 
 address themselves to expression, and projected their 
 minds to the solution of the essential problems of or- 
 
 1 
 
IN'mODUCTION 
 
 ganization. The wonderful success which the sonata 
 composers achieved in their devoted self-denial led to 
 the unfortunate misconception that musical art was a 
 thing which stood by itself and was self-sufficient and 
 had no reference in its highest manifestations to any- 
 thing outside itself. Two things corrected this strange 
 aberration. One was that a race of composers sprang 
 up who filled up the easily managed forms of the 
 sonata type with correct and orthodox passages and 
 deluged the world with utterly barren, empty, arti- 
 ficial and intolerably conventional rigmarole. This, 
 indeed, the world could not put up with, and it turned 
 with not unnatural eagerness to welcome the party who 
 advocated program music. These aspiring people 
 were quite on the right tack, but the resources of art 
 were not as yet built up sufficiently for their purposes, 
 and therefore a great part of their trivial and conven- 
 tional imitations of scenes and impressions merely 
 made them ridiculous. The necessary revolution came 
 out of the heart of the old regime. The greatest mas- 
 ters of the sonata types of art had always been im- 
 pelled to infuse their works of the sonata order with 
 human meaning and to suggest a condition of feeling — 
 mournful, cheerful, merry, mischievous, and the like; 
 and Beethoven, the greatest of them all by far, after 
 showing frequent signs of breaking away even as early 
 as the slow movement of his Sonata in D, opus 10, No. 
 3, finally in his latest sonatas, quartets and symphonies 
 produced some of the most wonderful human docu- 
 ments ever achieved by man, in which he expressed 
 the workings of his own innermost feelings, the por- 
 trayal of his aspirations, his perplexities in face of 
 the problems of life, his deep cogitations and moods, 
 and his hopes for the destiny of humanity. Here, in- 
 deed, he had found the true sphere of musical ex- 
 pression. It was the expression of his innermost be- 
 ing; and his music rose to such unparalleled heights 
 
 U 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 because he dealt with his own self, which he was 
 bound to know better than most people know them- 
 selves because he was so shut off from the world by his 
 deafness; and it may be added that the music is so pro- 
 foundly interesting also because he was personally such 
 an extraordinary and intensely interesting character. 
 
 Beethoven occupied the unique position of consum- 
 mating the sonata type and giving the impulse to the 
 artistic development which reestablished the full vigor 
 of human expression and feeling. He reestablished 
 the right of ideas to be expressed by music and indi- 
 cated the manner in which it was to be done. His 
 ardent nature rebelled against conventions. He sought 
 to eUminate all dead and inert matter, to get rid of 
 the formal types of accompaniment which were every- 
 body's property, and to make everything subserve to 
 the expression of the idea. It was probably this which 
 impelled him in his later works to revert to the fugue 
 — that is, to the real fugue of the type of John Sebas- 
 tian Bach, and not to the bastard form in which at- 
 tempts were made to amalgamate it with the harmonic 
 scheme of sonata form, which caused the introduction 
 of the conventional passages of that form which were 
 totally alien to the real fugue form. In the genuine 
 fugue form, as illustrated by him and Bach, all the 
 texture of the work is alive and there are no conven- 
 tional formulas of accompaniment, and Beethoven's 
 point of view enabled him to go right back, as it were, 
 beyond the historical episode of the sonata and bring 
 the true fugue again to life and use it as a most con- 
 centrated means of expression. There is a further and 
 very striking aspect of the question which is that 
 Beethoven, in bringing the fugue form into the field 
 again, anticipated and gave impulse to the revival of 
 the polyphonic methods which is such a conspicuous 
 feature of the most recent development in art: and 
 yet further, his use of the fugue form illustrated that 
 
 lii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 gravitation of artistic development which was to find 
 such splendid accomplishment in the later music 
 dramas of Wagner, in which the polyphonic treatment 
 and the use of the leit-motif form a gigantic expan- 
 sion of the essential principles of the supremely elastic 
 form of the fugue. 
 
 But «ven these significant facts do not exhaust the 
 aspects in which Beethoven anticipated later artistic 
 developments. It is a very strange fact that after his 
 deafness was quite established his sense of tone color 
 continued to expand. Even in comparatively early 
 works he had shown gravitation toward romantically 
 characteristic effects of instrumentation, as, for in- 
 stance, in the familiar and supremely wonderful color 
 scheme of the scherzo of the C minor symphony. But 
 after he had quite lost his hearing his color sense grew 
 in richness and depth and variety to a bewildering 
 extent. His mind seemed to be specially occupied 
 with finding tone colors which intensified the expres- 
 sion in quite a new way, as, for instance, in the huge 
 slow movement of the sonata in B flat, opus 106, in the 
 last movement of the sonata in C minor, opus 111, and 
 in the slow movement of the Choral Symphony. Prior 
 to his time there had been a great deal of inert matter 
 in orchestral scoring. The functions of wind instru- 
 ments were indeed defined, in so far as they were used 
 either as actual solo instruments or more often to sup- 
 ply a pleasant continuity of tone in agreeable colors* 
 while the strings did most of the actual talking. But 
 the standard of execution of the players, as well as the 
 technique of orchestration, was not advanced enough 
 to bring the wind instruments fairly into the operation 
 on an equality with the strings, and they were made to 
 play what was definitely serviceable to the scheme, but 
 had in itself no musical definition and purpose. The 
 greater part of the advance that has since taken place 
 in orchestration consists in making every member of 
 
 liii 
 
A NAimATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the orchestra contribute to the complex of polyphony 
 by playing actual and apt musical passages. It implied 
 the growth of texture toward vitality in every part of 
 the artistic scheme, and a development of organiza- 
 tion of the very subtlest description. For it must be 
 kept in mind that the employment of instruments of 
 diverse tone color in the modern manner does not im- 
 ply their constant employment, but their apt employ- 
 ment only; which is so contrived by the genius of 
 composers who can really think in orchestras that the 
 tone qualities affect the sensibilities of the hearers to 
 the utmost by their relations to one another. Even the 
 feeblest intelligence would be capable of discerning 
 the fact that great effects of color are made through 
 juxtaposition. A very vivid piece of coloring is not 
 vivid because the individual colors are vivid, but be- 
 cause various colors are disposed so as to give particu- 
 lar colors their utmost effect upon the sensibilities. 
 A glowing red does not glow of itself but because the 
 sensibilities have been so affected by other colors that 
 they have become highly susceptible to red. Groups 
 of nerves are affected in various ways by tone colors, 
 and the secret of art is so to use the various tone colors 
 that each shall minister in full measure to the effect of 
 others. And the secret of expression in art in this 
 particular department is that the composer who has 
 that very highly organized faculty of perception of 
 relations of colors uses just those relations in their 
 various . degrees which intensify the susceptibility of 
 the human auditor to the quality of the ideas he wants 
 to express. 
 
 In this field there is a very wide and interesting op- 
 portunity for special study, as the average of color 
 tendencies is a very striking means of gauging the dis- 
 position and personality of composers. Thus the stern, 
 almost ascetic, colors of Brahms, varied by touching 
 gleams of tenderness and beauty, express his person- 
 
 liv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 ality most exactly, Beethoven undoubtedly changed 
 his average of color as he developed his personality- 
 In his earlier works he was genial and bright, after the 
 naanner of the sonata composers, and made use of the 
 cheerful coloring that suited a cultured and prosperous 
 aristocracy. In his middle period he became warmer 
 and more serious; in his latest period he was some- 
 times grim and fierce, sometimes deep and solemn, but 
 often tender with the depth of longing and the earnest- 
 ness of his aspiration. But who cannot read the char- 
 acter of a composer through his average color scheme? 
 The flighty, empty-headed trickster with his sparkling 
 piccolo and his gas-jet noises on violins, and the bom- 
 bastic vulgarian posing as a man of great feeling with 
 his roars of blatant brass; the ovefsensitized hedonist 
 with his delicate subtleties, mainly in transparent 
 pearl-grays; and so on. "We are almost inclined to for- 
 get that it is all, or nearly all, a matter of relations; 
 it is only not a matter of relations when the music is 
 false. When the composer does try to make his effects 
 by violence and what he supposes to be the intrinsic 
 power of tone-quality nobody is permanently taken in. 
 That the basis of color effect is relation is a thing man 
 is learning every day in the infinite variety of a gor- 
 geous sunset and in the luxuriant blaze of his own 
 flowerbeds. Indeed, the principle of relativity in art 
 is nowhere likely to be more readily felt than in the 
 matter of color. 
 
 It is more difficult to apprehend in matters of form 
 and organization. Yet it ought to be easy to perceive 
 that the whole object of organization is to put things 
 in their right places. It is just as in the color scheme : 
 the effect of a work of art, as has been said before, 
 does not depend upon intrinsic interest of individual 
 moments, but on the relation of every moment to every 
 other moment. If the relations are false the impression 
 is marred and the idea fails to carry conviction. 
 
 Iv 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 But it follows from this that there had to be a sweep- 
 ing change in the generally accepted views of the 
 universal applicability of the sonata forms. They were 
 no doubt admirable as types of abstract design; they 
 were examples of approximate perfection in musical 
 organization; but, when the time came again after the 
 sonata period to make music express ideas, it became 
 evident, with the assistance of Beethoven's insight, that 
 special ideas required types of organization which were 
 specially adapted to the ideas. Men humbly ventured 
 on compositions which did not represent the august 
 dignity of the sonata order. They tried in small ways 
 to represent their feelings and ideas. They found the 
 sonata forms much too big; the prescriptive rights of 
 so aristocratic an organization entailing such a lot 
 of formalities; and they had of sheer necessity to find 
 some forms more apt and compact. The unique genius 
 of Chopin led the way. Surrounded by an atmosphere 
 of romanticism, and entirely free, as far as we can 
 see, from the influence of the sonata spirit, his strange 
 and subtle mind sought types of form which were quite 
 independent of tradition. Very often the form seems 
 to grow out of the musical ideas; at any rate it is easy 
 to feel that form and utterance progressed simultane- 
 ously in his processes of inspiration. This attitude 
 toward original methods of organization is perceptible 
 in a very large range of his compositions — the ballads, 
 the impromptus, the mazurkas, but in the finest and 
 subtlest shape in the best of the preludes. There, 
 indeed, can always be felt the underlying impulse to 
 express some feeling or idea which is not purely and 
 only musical, and also the exact aptness of the form 
 in which it is expressed. Hardly any modem com- 
 posers have excelled Chopin in this respect; it is his 
 greatest contribution to the evolution of musical art. 
 But even classical composers, composers essentially 
 built up on the great traditions, tacitly admitted the 
 
 Ivi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 gravitation of art back to its rightful position; Men- 
 delssohn in his songs without words and symphonies, 
 Schumann in vast numbers of movements of all cali- 
 bres for pianoforte and even in movements of sym- 
 phonies, such as the slow movement of the Rhenish 
 and the whole of the D major; Brahms in his compact 
 and well-considered piano pieces, and movements in 
 his chamber music; and later on the host of experi- 
 mentalizing composers in every branch of art, all bent 
 on expressing something that stirs them, and all bent 
 on finding special ways of organizing what they have 
 to say. The most conclusive illustrations are naturally 
 in the branch of song as cultivated by modern com- 
 posers. Here the theories of the few faithful defend- 
 ers of the old strongholds are obviously void; for it 
 is impossible to imagine anyone being so preposter- 
 ously idiotic as to try and write a song in sonata form. 
 The scheme of organization must inevitably, in such 
 a form of art, follow absolutely the meaning of the 
 words and the course of the dramatic development. As 
 a matter of fact, the same connection with words rules 
 the situation as far as regards the artistic organization 
 in all directions from anthems and church music up 
 to the colossal scores of music dramas. The composer 
 has now not only to provide diction, method, artistic 
 texture, color, but also new types of form. It may, in- 
 deed, be said that the highest aim of the composer, 
 after the discovery of something worth expressing, is 
 to find some new scheme — some new distribution of 
 the architectural elements of his musical work — which 
 will present his ideas in forms which will attract the 
 attention and keep the interest of the highest class of 
 minds. 
 
 The situation may be said to round off the story of 
 music's development so far. For the colossal accumu- 
 lation of resources and means of beautifying and vital- 
 izing ideas serves not only for utterance but also to 
 
 Ivii 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 widen the scope and variety of schemes of artistic 
 organization — and the individual composer becomes 
 personally responsible in that respect as well as for the 
 feeling and the artistic details. 
 
 But the indebtedness of latter-day composers to the 
 devotion of those who went before is not exhausted 
 by these accomplishments. For there are many fea- 
 tures of att to which successive generations of com- 
 posers have contributed in the fashioning, and which 
 ought not to be overlooked, though they cannot be 
 dealt with in detail in a summary. One of the subtlest 
 and most interesting is the differentiation of various 
 styles. The instinct which impelled composers in this 
 connection was always to find the most perfect adjust- 
 ment of resources to environment. In other words, 
 to express what they had to say in the ways which 
 were most convenient and effective for the instruments 
 which had to play it, and most suitable to the audience 
 to which it was to be addressed in the place where it 
 had to be performed. 
 
 At first composers' ingenuity was exercised in one 
 style only, that of choral music, limited also mainly to 
 sacred music. When that was more or less perfected in 
 the space of some five centuries, instrumental secular 
 style began to emerge; at first leaning on the methods 
 and devices which composers had found out in choral 
 music, and then by degrees, as instrumental music 
 learned to stand alone, making it more completely apt 
 for performance by instruments; which process has 
 gone on till the present day and is still going on. Then, 
 soon after instrumental style began to branch off from 
 the parent stem of choral music, operatic style began to 
 be laboriously devised, and is by degrees still being 
 perfected in the sphere of music drama; then followed 
 the distinct style for various solo instruments, as the 
 style of organ music, the style for various kinds of 
 orchestral music, for chamber music, for domestic 
 
 Iviii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 music, songs, concert-platform music, various types of 
 modem church music — an ever-increasing variety, each 
 style being the most perfect adaptation to the condi- 
 tions of presentment and the qualities of instruments 
 as time goes on. 
 
 Another development of great interest is that of 
 thematic material. Such things as subjects were hardly 
 thought of at first in artistic conditions, as choral mu- 
 sic was not adapted to clear definition. That quality 
 began to manifest itself when rhythm began to play 
 its part in instrumental music. Then melodious pas- 
 sages, which were clearly recognizable in themselves, 
 began to make their appearance in operatic arias, but 
 they were for a long time defined more by the con- 
 ventional periods indicated by cadences of various de- 
 grees of finality than by their individual character. 
 This peculiarity of defining subjects persisted almost 
 till the end of the sonata period in the latter part of 
 Beethoven's life, when he began to divine the possi- 
 bility of subjects being identifiable for themselves with- 
 out artificial conventions for marking their boundaries, 
 and gave the impulse to that practice of concentrating 
 interest in short phrases and figures which have in- 
 trinsic definition by reason of their characteristic in- 
 tervals and rhythms, which has become the most uni- 
 versal trait of all later music, gathering force in the 
 romantic period and being developed further by the 
 latest representative composers, who use color, chord 
 positions, even modulation, as well as melodic features, 
 as factors in making their thematic nuclei stand out 
 from their context, and serve the purpose of texts to 
 their discourses — the said texts serving also to suggest 
 as clearly as possible what the composer has in his 
 mind, which he desires to convey to his audience in the ^ 
 most vivid and permanent forms. 
 
 It is inevitable that all this huge development of 
 artistic resources, which has taken so many centuries 
 
 lix 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of patient and devoted concentration of faculties, 
 should bewilder the ardent and eager latter-day com- 
 poser who is longing to express himself at once. 
 
 In many cases his invention and spontaneity seem 
 to be paralyzed by the amount there is to learn. On 
 the one hand, it causes academicism in the more con- 
 scientious, and, on the other, it causes rebellion. All 
 the 'isms' of contemporary art of all kinds are the 
 result of a kind of indigestion which is the outcome of 
 the superabundance of resources of all kinds. The 
 highest manifestations of art can only be produced by 
 those who have survived the long process of learning to 
 understand the meaning and purpose of artistic pro- 
 cedures and still have some vitality left. But the pub- 
 lic is by this time quite incapable of distinguishing be- 
 tween what is built upon genuine foundations and 
 what is pure recklessness. They like recklessness, and 
 the power to recognize the mind which builds so diffi- 
 cult an edifice of individuality on loyalty to his art 
 requires too much education. So many contrive the 
 appearance of originality by the easy process of merely 
 doing what they have been advised not to do. They 
 cry out against the soul-subduing labor of having to 
 learn how to do the things that are worth doing in the 
 best way. So artistic progress becomes mainly the 
 process of learning from making mistakes, which 
 brings it into line with all the ordinary forms of social 
 progress. It becomes a wild hurly-burly of impetuous 
 adventurousness, in which the ardent explorers do not 
 even allow themselves time to find out whether the 
 new country they propose to explore is worth explor- 
 ing. But without doubt there is a residue of the real 
 quality when the disposition of the composer is also 
 of fine quality. The 'new paths' now entail the motive 
 of the composer being more identifiable than ever. 
 They betray themselves in spite of themselves. The 
 pedant cannot escape from his pedantry, the conven- 
 
 Ix 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 tional-minded from his conventions, the sentimentalist 
 from his sentimentalities, the vain man from his vani- 
 ties, the sensualist from his cravings, the insolent from 
 his insolence, or the commercial from his advertise- 
 ments. The general repudiation of standards leaves 
 them all without disguise, and the man who under- 
 stands music can identify the individual and his type 
 of society and what it is worth through the music he 
 puts forward as representing him. 
 
 It entails a change in the position of musical art 
 which took place in the painting art centuries earlier, 
 and shows what a modern thing music is. Men no 
 longer expect music to be the expression of noble and 
 exalted thoughts only, but accept it as the expression 
 of all kinds of moods, emotions, feelings and aspira- 
 tions, whether they be little and intimate, satyric and 
 strange, wildly extravagant, genially humorous, pug- 
 nacious, pacific, pastoral, even uproariously domestic. 
 It is a new kind of differentiation in which there is 
 inevitably a new kind of waste. But the ideal public, 
 which is infinitely longer than it is broad, will ulti- 
 mately apply the judgment based on the experience of 
 generations, and will sift out the products of the gen- 
 uinely artistic beings from the follies of the heedless 
 ones. The purists are in despair, but those whose 
 optimism is invulnerable can look forward in the un- 
 shaken belief that art will go on expanding healthily, 
 in spite of the confusion of tongues, through the inex- 
 tinguishable passion of true composers to find the most 
 perfect and complete expression of their own person- 
 alities. 
 
 C. Hubert H. Parry. 
 
 October, 1914. 
 
 Ixi 
 
CONTRIBUTORS AND COLLABORATORS 
 FOR VOLUMES I, II AND III 
 
 Franz Bellinger, Ph.D F. B. 
 
 M.-D. Calvocoressi M.-D. C. 
 
 W. Dermot Darhy W. D. D. 
 
 Cecil Forsyth C. F. 
 
 Henry F. Gilhert H. F. G. 
 
 Leland Hall L. H. 
 
 G. W. Harris G. W. H. 
 
 Edward Burlingame Hill E. B. H. 
 
 A. Walter Kramer A. W. K. 
 
 Edward Kilenyi E. K. 
 
 Benjamin Lamrord B. L. 
 
 Frederick H. Martens » . F. H. M. 
 
 Eduardo Marzo E. M. 
 
 Daniel Gregory Mason D. G. M. 
 
 Hiram Kelly Moderwell H. K. M. 
 
 Ivan Narodny I. N. 
 
 Ernest Newman E. N. 
 
 Sir C. Hubert H. Parry . C. H. H. P. 
 
 Francis Rolt-Wheeler F. R.-W. 
 
 Cesar Saerchinger C. S. 
 
 Amelia von Ende A. v. E. 
 
 William Wallace W. W. 
 
 Leslie Whittlesey L. W. 
 
 Ixiii 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME ONE 
 
 General Introduction v 
 
 Introduction to the Narrative History of Music 
 
 BY C. Hubert H. Parry xxv 
 
 Part I. Preliminaries 
 
 I. Primitive Music 
 
 Music in nature — Theories of the origin of music — Inter- 
 vals and scales; contrast — The aborigines of Carrlbea, 
 Polynesia, Samoa, Africa — ^The rhythmic element: music 
 and the dance ; instruments of percussion— Harmonic traces 
 — ^Wind Instruments and their scales; the xylophone — In- 
 strumentu of semi-civilized peoples — ^The North American 
 Indian — Influence of modem culture on savage music. 
 
 II. Exotic Music 42 
 
 Significance of exotic music — Classification; Aztecs and 
 Peruvians — ^The Orient: China and Hindustan, the Moham- 
 medans — ^Exotic instruments — Music as religious rite; music 
 and dancing — Music and customs; Orient and Occident. 
 
 III. The Most Ancient Civilized Nations .... 64 
 
 Conjecture and authority — ^The Assyrians and Baby- 
 lonians; instruments; scales — The Hebrews — The Egyptians; 
 social aspects; Plato's testimony; instruments— Egyptian 
 influence on Greek culture and its musical significance. 
 
 IV. The Music of the Ancient Greeks .... 88 
 
 Significance of Greek music — Greek conception of music; 
 mythical records — ^Musie in social life; folk-song; general 
 characteristics of Greek music — Systems and scales — ^Pytha- 
 goras' theories; later theorists: Aristoxenus to Ptolemy — 
 Periods of Greek composition; the nomoi; lyricism; choral 
 dancing and choral lyricism; the drama — Greek instru- 
 ments; notation. 
 
 Ixv 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME ONE 
 
 Part II. Beginnings 
 
 CHAPTER FAGIS 
 
 V. The Age of Plain-Song 128 
 
 Music in the Roman empire — Sources of early Christian 
 music; the hymns of St. Ambrose^Hebrew traditions — 
 Psalmody, responses, antiphons; the liturgy; the Gregorian 
 tradition; the antiphonary and the gradual; sequences and 
 tropes — Ecclesiastical modes; early notation. 
 
 VI. The Beginnings of Polyphony 160 
 
 The third dimension in music — 'Antiphony' and Polyph- 
 ony; magadizing; organum and diaphony, parallel and ob- 
 lique — Guide d'Arezzo and his reputed inventions; solmisa- 
 tlon; progress of notation — Johannes Cotto and the Ad or- 
 ganum faciendum; contrary motion and the beginning of 
 true polyphony — Measured music; mensural notation — 
 Faux-bourdon, ggmel; forms of mensural composition. 
 
 VII. Secular Music in the Middle Ages .... 186 
 
 Popular music; fusion of secular and ecclesiastical 
 spirit; Paganism and Christianity; the epic — FoU^song; 
 early types in France, complaints, narrative song, dance 
 song; Germany and the North; occupational songs — ^Vagrant 
 musicians; jongleurs, minstrels; the love song — ^Trouba- 
 dours and Trouvferes; Adam de la Halle — ^The Minnesinger; 
 the Meistersinger ; influence on Reformation and Renais- 
 sance. 
 
 Part III. The Polyphonic Period 
 VIII. The Rise of the Netherland Schools . . . 226 
 
 The Netherland style; the Ars Nova; Maschault and the 
 Paris school; the papal ban on figured music — The Gallo- 
 Belgian school; early English polyphony; John Dunstable; 
 Dufay and Binchois; other Gallo-Belgians — Okeghem and 
 his school — Josquin des Pris; merits of the Netherland 
 Schools. 
 
 IX. The Italian Renaissance 258 
 
 Spirit of the Renaissance — Trovatori and contort u liuto; 
 The Florentine Ars Nova; Landino; caccia, ballata, madrigal 
 — The fifteenth century; the Medici; Netherland influence; 
 popular song forms — Adrian Willaert and the new madri- 
 gal — Orazlo Vecchl and the dramatic madrigal. 
 
 Ixvi 
 
CONTENTS OF VOLUME ONE 
 
 CHAPTBB 
 
 PADS 
 
 X. The Golden Age of Polyphony 284 
 
 Invention of music printing — The Reformation — ^The 
 immediate successors of Josquin; Adrian Willaert and tlie 
 Venetian sctiool; Germany and England — Orlando di Lasso 
 — Falestrlna; his life — ^The Falestrina style; the culmination 
 of vocal polyphony — Conclusion. 
 
 Part IV. The Development of Harmony 
 XI. The Beginnings of Opera and Oratorio . . . 324 
 
 The forervmners of opera — ^The Florentine reform of 
 IGOO; the 'expressive' style; P*l and Caccini; the first 
 opera; Cavalleri and the origin of the oratorio — Claudio 
 Monteverdi: his life and his works. 
 
 XII. New Forms: Vocal and Instrumental . . . 348 
 
 Resum£ of the sixteenth century — Rhythm and form; 
 the development of harmony; figured hass — ^The organ 
 style; eanzona da sonar; ricercar; toccata; sonata da chiesa; 
 great organists — ^The genesis of violin music; eanzona and 
 sonata — ^The sonata da camera; the suite — ^Music for the 
 harpsichord — ^The opera in the seventeenth century; Hein- 
 rlch Schiitz. 
 
 XIII. The Seventeenth Century 388 
 
 The musicians of the century — Henry Purccll and music 
 in England — ^Italy: Alessandro Scarlatti; Arcangelo Corelli; 
 Domenico Scarlatti — The beginnings of French opera: the 
 Ballet-comique de la reine; Cambert and Perrin — Jean Bap- 
 tiste de LuUy — Couperin and Rameau — Music in Germany: 
 Keiser, Mattheson, and the Hamburg opera; precursors of 
 Bach. 
 
 XIV. Handel and the Oratorio 418 
 
 The consequences of the seventeenth century: Bach and 
 Handel — ^Handel's early life; the opera at Hamburg; the 
 German oratorio — The Italian period, Rodrigo, Agrippina, 
 and Resurrezione — Music in England; Handel as opera com- 
 poser and impresario — Origins of the Handellan oratorio; 
 from 'Esther' to 'The Messiah* — Handel's instrumental mu- 
 sic; conclusion. 
 
 XV. Johann Sebastian Bach 448 
 
 Introduction — ^The life of Bach — Bach's polyphonic skill 
 and the qualities of his genius — Bach's contribution to the 
 art of music and the forms he employed — The revision of 
 keyboard technique and equal temperament — Bach's relation 
 to the history of music. 
 
 Index. See Volume III. 
 Bibliography, See Volume III. 
 
 Ixvii 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS IN VOLUME ONE 
 
 King Ren6 and his Musical Court (in colors) . Frontispiece 
 
 PACING 
 PAGE 
 
 Orchestra of Pan's Pipes (Aboriginal) 22 
 
 Old Japanese Print: 'Girl of the Old Kingdom playing the 
 
 Harp' 58 
 
 Ancient Egyptian Fresco showing Instruments in Use . 82 
 
 Greek Flute and Kithara Players (in colors) .... 96 
 
 The Contest between Apollo and Marysas .... 122 
 
 The Organ in the Middle Ages 156 
 
 Mediaeval French Sculpture showing Trouv6res and Jong- 
 leurs with Instruments 202 
 
 The Tournament of Song in the Wartburg 218 
 
 Josquin des Pr6s (photogravure) 252 
 
 Altar of the Virgin by Bellini (photogravure) .... 268 
 
 Orlando di Lasso (photogravure) 308 
 
 Perluigi da Palestrina (photogravure) 316 
 
 'The Concert'; Painting by Giorgione (in colors) . . 328 
 
 Claudio Monteverdi (photogravure) 338 
 
 Henry Purcell (photogravure) 388 
 
 Arcangelo Corelli (photogravure) 396 
 
 Jean-Baptiste de Lully (photogravure) 408 
 
 Jean-Philippe Rameau (photogravure) 414 
 
 Georg Friedrich Handel (photogravure) 438 
 
 Johann Sebastian Bach (photogravure) 468 
 
 Ixix 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 PRIMITIVE MUSIC 
 
 Music in nature— Theories of the origin of music — Intervals and scales; 
 Contrast — ^The ahoriglnes of Carrihea, Polynesia, Samoa, Africa — ^The rhyth- 
 mic element: music and the dance; instruments of percussion — Harmonic 
 traces — ^Wind instruments and their scales; the xylophone — Instruments of 
 semi-civilized peoples — The North American Indian — Influence of modern 
 culture on savage music. 
 
 Music is coeval with the human race. In all proba- 
 bility it precedes spoken language. For music is pri- 
 marily the expression of emotion; articulate language 
 is the expression of definite thought. And in the proc- 
 ess of evolution emotion precedes thought. The begin- 
 nings of music are to be found in Nature herself. The 
 howling of the winds, the humming of insects, the cries 
 of animals, the songs of birds must all be considered as 
 elemental music, inasmuch as they contain the two 
 fundamental elements thereof: 'rhythm' and 'tone.' 
 
 Rhythm is the more or less regular division of time 
 by beats or strokes. The heart beat.s in a regular 
 rhythm; there is the rhythm of the raindrops; man 
 walks with a rhythmic stride; the waves beat upon the 
 shore in a solemn and impressive rhythm; the drum- 
 ming of the partridge; the chirping of the crickets; the 
 tapping of the woodpecker; the muttering of distant 
 thunder, etc. — all these are rhythms, more or less regu- 
 lar divisions of time, marked off by beats or accents. 
 
 Now 'tone' is merely a noise which persists at a cer- 
 tain pitch. When we cry out in fear we usually pro- 
 duce a noise, but should we be careful to maintain a 
 steady and equal emission of breath we should produce 
 a tone. In other words, a 'noise' is produced by a rapid 
 and irregular change in the rate of vibration of the 
 
 1 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 sounding body, whereas a 'tone' is produced by the 
 steady maintenance of a certain rate of vibration for a 
 long enough time for the ear to appreciate its deflnite- 
 ness. That this time need not be very long is proved by 
 the ease with which we grasp as tones certain very short 
 notes used in music; grace notes, for instance. Many 
 noises, in fact, upon analysis appear to be collections 
 of heterogeneous tonal fragments which succeed each 
 other with such rapidity and eccentricity as to pre- 
 clude the recognition of their tonal elements, as such. 
 
 Such animal cries as the roaring of lions, the baying 
 of wolves, the screeching of parrots, or the barking of 
 dogs must be classed as mere noises. While they are 
 frequently of rhythmic interest, they contain too little 
 of the tonal element to be regarded musically. On the 
 other hand, the humming of certain insects, which pro- 
 duces a definite tone, the whistling and singing of many 
 birds, the musical cries of certain monkeys as related in 
 Darwin, and even on occasion the crjdng of the wind, 
 must all be regarded as 'natural music' 
 
 The wind with its fitful and irregular howling usually 
 produces mere noise, but there are times when it blows 
 with such a steady intensity through the forest that a 
 definite tone is produced. One reads with interest and 
 sympathy in the memoirs of a certain naturalist how 
 he, while listening to the ethereal singing noises pro- 
 duced by myriads of small insects, imagined that he 
 caught but the lower notes of some elfin symphony, too 
 refined for mortal ears to hear. The songs of the sing- 
 ing birds are very notable examples of 'natural music,' 
 for here the tones are in many instances quite perfect, 
 while the rhythms of many bird-songs are sharply de- 
 fined and easily noted. 
 
 But it is savage or primitive man who claims our 
 greatest interest. Untouched by learning, simple of 
 mind and direct and naive in his conduct, he is at the 
 same time a part of nature and the ancestor of civilized 
 
 2 
 
THEORIES OF THE ORIGIN OF MUSIC 
 
 man — a being not only endowed with strong rhythmic 
 sense, but with vocal powers far superior in possible 
 variety of inflection to those of any of the animals. 
 His love cries, war songs, and savage laments are as 
 much natural music as are the songs of birds or the 
 cries of animals, and contain, even though crudely, the 
 elements from which civilized music has subsequently 
 been developed. It is with him that our story really 
 begins. 
 
 Thus we see that the fundamental elements of music 
 are to be found in nature herself. Man, in his upward 
 and wonderful course from barbarism to civilization, 
 has but cunningly combined these elements, with ever- 
 increasing intellectuality, until there has come to de- 
 velopment the glorious art of music as we know it 
 to-day; an art which 'hath the power of making Heaven 
 descend upon earth,' as it is written in the Chinese 
 annals. 
 
 When we contemplate the life of the savage we are 
 to all intents and purposes observing the lives of our 
 own primitive ancestors. As we see them to-day they 
 without doubt portray for us a phase through which we 
 ourselves passed on our way upward to civilization. 
 No tribe of savages has yet been discovered who have 
 not possessed some elemental fragments of music. No 
 matter how barbaric the people, how rude their man- 
 ners, or how savage their dispositions, music of some 
 sort plays a vital and significant part in their lives. 
 Most savage tribes have their war cries, songs, and 
 dances; their playful or ceremonious dances; their love 
 or marriage songs, their funeral songs; and lastly, 
 their mysterious and pantheistically religious incanta- 
 tions: prayer songs, appeals to unseen powers, either 
 diabolical or beneficent; to effect the deliverance of 
 
 3 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 some person from a dread disease, or to bring rain, or 
 abundance of game, etc. All these are to be regarded 
 as primitive music — music which has hardly as yet at- 
 tained the dignity of an Art. 
 
 The collection and study of these fragments has been 
 of great interest to ethnologists and philosophers and 
 has given rise to numerous theories regarding the 
 origin of music. Herbert Spencer gives a physiological 
 explanation of its origin, claiming that intense emotion 
 acts in a particular manner on the vocal and respira- 
 tory organs, thereby causing the person thus affected 
 to emit sounds; either high or low, loud or soft, ac- 
 cording to the kind of emotion with which he is filled. 
 Beginning with the proposition that 'AH music is origi- 
 nally vocal,' he goes on to say: 'AH vocal sounds are 
 reproduced by the agency of certain muscles. These 
 muscles, in common with those of the body at large, are 
 excited to contraction by pleasurable and painful feel- 
 ings.' And again: 'We have here, then, a principle 
 underlying all vocal phenomena, including those of 
 vocal music, and by consequence those of music in gen- 
 eral. The muscles that move the chest, larynx, and 
 vocal cords, contracting like other muscles in propor- 
 tion to the intensity of the feelings; every different con- 
 traction of these muscles involving, as it does, a differ- 
 ent adjustment of the vocal organs; every different 
 adjustment of the vocal organs causing a change in the 
 sound emitted; it follows that variations of voice are 
 the physiological results of variations of feeling.' 
 
 Charles Darwin attempts to explain the existence of 
 primitive music by considering it as a secondary sexual 
 manifestation. He asserts that primitive song was used 
 as a method of charming the opposite sex; that the 
 first songs were love songs, and that from these all 
 others were developed. In the 'Descent of Man' he 
 says: 'The male alone of the tortoise utters a noise, and 
 this only during the season of love. Male alligators 
 
 4 
 
THEORIES OF THE ORIGIN OP MUSIC 
 
 roar or bellow during the same season. Every one 
 knows how much birds use their vocal organs as a 
 means of courtship; and some species likewise perform 
 what may be called instrumental music' And later: 
 'Women are thought to possess sweeter voices than 
 men, and so far as this serves as any guide, we may 
 infer that they first acquired musical powers in order 
 to attract the other sex.' 
 
 Spencer's explanation is pure theory, based as it is 
 not upon observation of particular facts, but upon a 
 knowledge of certain physiological laws. Darwin's ex- 
 planation, on the contrary, is evidently based on very 
 careful observations of particular instances of the man- 
 ifestation of the primitive musical faculty. Neverthe- 
 less, however interestingly Darwin writes concerning 
 the origin of music, Spencer's explanation must seem 
 to us the broader, more inclusive and satisfying of the 
 two, inasmuch as it bases the origin of music in a 
 variety of emotional experiences rather than in only 
 one (the love emotion). Darwin, however, says that 
 the emotion of love may give rise to many other emo- 
 tions of a quite different character, such as rage, jeal- 
 ousy, and triumph; and proceeds to indicate the pos- 
 sible development of various kinds of primitive songs 
 from primitive love songs. It is, however, difficult for 
 us to conceive of the development of war songs, incan- 
 tations, or howls of grief for the dead as having been 
 developed from primitive love songs. 
 
 According to Grosse, music arose from the play in- 
 stinct. It is one of the forms in which superabundant 
 energy is spent. Most animals, including man, are en- 
 dowed with more than enough energy than is absolutely 
 necessary to supply their physical needs. This super- 
 abundant energy is expressed in different kinds of play. 
 The leaping and diving of the porpoise, the gambolling 
 of dogs, the running of races, and the playing of games 
 among primitive men are examples of the working of 
 
 5 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the play instinct. Our modern sports, tennis, foot- 
 ball, etc., are also examples of it. According to this 
 theory, singing and dancing first arose as means of 
 diversion from the monotony of existence, as a means 
 of whiling away the time and making life pleasant. 
 This is a most important theory, and while it probably 
 is not wholly true, it contains a large percentage of 
 truth. It is upheld by a great number of writers besides 
 Grosse, and has great significance concerning the origin 
 of aU the Arts, including music. 
 
 Another theory of the origin of music is that it arose 
 through the imitation by primitive man of bird-songs 
 and other sounds in Nature. It is true that in a collec- 
 tion of the music of many savage tribes there are nu- 
 merous songs which are certainly imitations of certain 
 bird calls and other animal cries. Particularly are 
 these to be noted in the music of the North American 
 Indians. They have 'PeUcan,' 'Crane,' 'Elk,' and 'Buf- 
 falo' songs, and even songs imitating the wind in the 
 pines. Their animal songs are to a large extent but 
 slight developments of the cry of the animal himself. 
 This cry was probably first used by the primitive hunter 
 as a decoy, and eventually through frequent use became 
 a recognized song. Although many primitive songs 
 have undoubtedly arisen in this way, the theory of 
 imitation considered as an explanation of the origin of 
 music is somewhat in discredit with ethnologists and 
 philosophers. It is much too partial and there are too 
 many cases to which it certainly cannot apply. 
 
 In his study Arbeit und Rhythmus Karl Biicher ad- 
 vances the idea that through regular 'work' of any kind 
 'song' as an accompaniment is naturally induced. The 
 regularity of the 'work,' be it walking, driving a stake, 
 or grinding corn in a hoUowed-out stone, supplies one 
 element of music; i. e., rhythm. One element of a tune 
 being present, what more natural than an attempt on 
 the part of the worker to supply the other element and 
 
 6 
 
INTERVALS AND SCALES 
 
 thus lighten the labor? Especially is this likely to hap- 
 pen if the task require several workers who are obliged 
 to work together, somewhat in unison. Biicher says 
 'Song is the ofifspring of labor. It is a means employed 
 to discipline individual activities to the accomplishment 
 of a common task.' 
 
 Leaving out of consideration, however, all external 
 stimuli which may or may not have had a determina- 
 tive influence in the development of primitive music, 
 we cannot but think of the remark of Karl Bockel, 
 which strikes the note of truth : 'Song has its origin in 
 the cry of joy or sorrow; in the need of expression in- 
 born in all peoples in a state of nature.' 
 
 II 
 
 From the foregoing it is easily to be seen that the 
 first music was vocal. Vocal music has its origin and 
 cause in the elemental urge of Nature, whereas musical 
 instruments, even of the most primitive description, 
 are a subsequent development and spring from the in- 
 ventive faculty of man. The most elemental cries of 
 primitive peoples consist of a succession of sounds be- 
 ginning on a high tone and descending by means of a 
 gliding or slurring effect, to a low tone. Such are the 
 cries of the Caribs, and of the aboriginal inhabitants 
 of Australia. Sometimes the gliding of the voice takes 
 an upward turn, as it is said to do among the Polyne- 
 sian cannibals when gloating over a victim about to be 
 sacrificed. Definite musical tones cannot be recog- 
 nized in these primitive cries, hence they cannot be 
 accurately written down in the musical notation of civi- 
 lization. In such simple and elemental cries as these, 
 although no definite musical intervals are to be recog- 
 nized, it is not long before they appear. In fact, it is 
 easily to be seen in the most primitive music that the 
 production of definite tones, and more or less of a 
 
 7 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 definite melodic design, is the object toward which the 
 savage mind unconsciously gropes. It must not be sup- 
 posed that the intervals in use in civilized music are 
 wholly the invention of man. Many of the intervals, 
 such as thirds, fifths, and octaves, are found to be quite 
 perfect in certain animal cries and particularly in bird- 
 song. Consider the two following bird-songs collected 
 by the writer in Massachusetts: 
 
 Civilized man has arranged these tones and intervals 
 in diatonic sequences called scales. The scales are his 
 invention, but the majority of the intervals composing 
 them were undoubtedly in frequent use by primitive 
 man from prehistoric times. As Gilman truly ob- 
 serves, 'Definite successions of tones were in use long 
 before they became regular systematic scales.' * The 
 following cry of grief from the southeastern coast of 
 Africa illustrates both the falling inflection of the voice 
 already alluded to as a primitive characteristic and 
 also the use of definite musical intervals. It was noted 
 by Henri A. Junod: 
 
 ma mo re Tn m'as qfiiUt^o, ou es - ta al 
 
 Here is another 'lament'; this one being from New Zea- 
 land. The tonal range is somewhat more extensive 
 but the falling inflexion of the voice is well illustrated. 
 The usual savage downward howl occurs at the end: 
 
 In the 'Narrative of the United States Exploring Ex- 
 pedition' by Captain Wilkes the following song is 
 
 * Benj. Ives Gilman: Hop! Songs, 1908. 
 
 8 
 
INTERVALS AND SCALES 
 
 noted. It comes from the island of Arnheim in Poly- 
 nesia : 
 
 eliding) 
 
 The most primitive musical utterances are usually 
 confined to a narrow range. Seconds and thirds are 
 the intervals most frequently used. The songs of the 
 Terra del Fuegians, for instance, do not usually exceed 
 the limits of a third. The song just quoted from Arn- 
 heim is, it will be noted, with the exception of the 
 ornamental quirks, confined to the range of a second. 
 The most limited songs in regard to range of intervals, 
 however, appear to be the songs of the Andamanese 
 Islanders. M. V. Portman in a paper on Andamanese 
 music published in the Journal of the Royal Asiatic 
 Society, says: 'The only notes in use in their songs 
 are the following, and in this order: The leading note 
 % sharp, the tonic, the tonic l^ sharp. The whole 
 range of notes is therefore not equal to a superfluous 
 second.' * 
 
 The savage mind, being incapable, for the most part, 
 of the development of a musical idea, is satisfied by an 
 incessant repetition of the same phrase. Here is a 
 song of the Caribs as noted by Theodore de Bry. 
 While it is comprised within the interval of a small 
 second, it was repeated sometimes for an hoxir at a 
 time, with what monotonous effect we can well im- 
 agine : 
 
 Another Carib song, comprised within the interval of 
 a fourth, is here given. A similar song from Polynesia 
 is also given for purposes of comparison. The two 
 songs are remarkably similar; in fact, almost identical. 
 
 * A specimen of Andamanese music Is to be found on page 41. 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 The geographical separation of the Caribs and the 
 Polynesians is so great as to have made intercommuni- 
 cation almost beyond the bounds of possibility. How, 
 then, can the similarity be accounted for? Apparently 
 only by assuming that peoples who live in similar 
 conditions, and whose minds are in a similar state of 
 development, may express themselves in a similar 
 manner: 
 
 Germs of the principle of contrast may be found in 
 both the above songs. A second phrase or musical 
 motive has been invented which is sung alternately 
 with the first, thereby relieving the sense of monotony. 
 This was certainly a great step in the development 
 of primitive music. The invention of a second musical 
 phrase, and the contrasting of it with the first, was 
 the unconscious beginning of musical form. For con- 
 trast is the basic principle of form in music. The fol- 
 lowing song from Samoa shows this principle of the 
 contrasting of musical motives very clearly. The two 
 motives are sung by different groups of persons : 
 
 The above is a tune in which the contrasting phrases 
 are of equal length, and recur with great regularity, 
 but many tunes are found in which the contrasting 
 motives, or melodic particles, follow each other with 
 
 10 
 
MUSIC AND DANCE 
 
 whimsical irregularity, their relative position and re- 
 currence following no law but the feeling of the singer 
 at the moment. Such is this tune of the Macusi In- 
 dians of South America: 
 
 But in this Eskimo tune, noted by Dr. Kane, one of 
 the earliest Arctic explorers, while the motives follow 
 each other with regularity and are of equal length, 
 each motive is given twice before the contrasting mo- 
 tive occurs: 
 
 Two little tunes from Africa may serve as final illus- 
 trations of this contrasting phrase principle. These 
 tunes are also interesting inasmuch as both contain a 
 germ of 'ragtime.' The sources of ragtime are to be 
 found in the songs of the American negro slaves, and 
 it is significant to find these hints also present in the 
 songs of the parent African race. 
 
 DANCE SONQ 
 
 rr 
 
 -irg 
 
 anHTINO SONG 
 
 Both the above are taken from 'Up the Niger' by 
 Captain A. F. Mockler-Ferryman. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Music and the dance developed side by side. Music is 
 rhythm plus tone; the dance, rhythm plus gesture. 
 In savage life they are well-nigh inseparable. The 
 
 11 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 dance among civilized peoples is merely a diversion; 
 a form of amusement. Among savages it is much 
 more rarely so. Nearly all ceremonies, whether of a 
 joyful, sorrowful, or religious character, were accom- 
 panied by appropriate dances. Many of these dances 
 were of a very elementary character, consisting merely 
 of certain postures, swaying of the body, or leaping 
 into the air. Some dances were imitated from the 
 motions of certain animals, even as some of the primi- 
 tive songs were imitative of animal cries. Of such 
 nature is the Kangaroo dance of the aborigines of Aus- 
 tralia. The men who indulge in the dance imitate 
 the postures and leaps of the kangaroo, and also imi- 
 tate with their voices the sounds made by that animal. 
 Meanwhile the women sing the following simple tune 
 over and over again, and furnish a rhythmical ac- 
 companiment by knocking two pieces of wood to- 
 gether: 
 
 Similarly, the North American Indians have eagle 
 dances, dog dances, etc., while the natives of Kamt- 
 schatka have a bear dance in which, says Engel,* 'they 
 cleverly imitate not only the attitude and tricks 
 of the bear, but also its voice.' There were also war 
 dances, love dances, funeral dances, and various cere- 
 monial dances. In a sense, all primitive music may 
 be considered as dance music. All primitive songs 
 were accompanied by gestures or dances and, natur- 
 ally, there was no dance without its acompanying 
 music. The head^hunting Dyaks of Borneo have a 
 dance in which the gestures indicate the cutting off of 
 heads. The North American Indians have a scalp 
 dance, celebrating the victorious exploits of a war 
 
 •Carl Engel: Introduction to the Study of National Music, Vol. I. 
 
 12 
 
MUSIC AND THE DANCE 
 
 party. The Maoris of New Zealand have a war dance 
 in which all thrust out their tongues at once, a gesture 
 which may indicate contempt of the enemy. 
 
 One of the most curious of primitive dances is the 
 Corroberie Dance of the natives of Australia. It is 
 thus described by Carl Engel: 'Twenty or more men 
 paint their naked dark bodies to represent skeletons, 
 which they accomplish by drawing white lines across 
 the body with pipe-clay to correspond with the ribs, 
 and broader ones on the arms, legs, and the head. 
 Thus prepared they perform the Corroberie at night 
 before a fire. The spectators, placed at some distance 
 from them, see only the white skeletons, which vanish 
 and reappear whenever the dancers turn around. The 
 wild and ghastly action of the skeletons is accompanied 
 by vocal effusions and some rhythmical noise which a 
 number of hidden bystanders produce by beating their 
 shields in regular time.' Here is the melody of one of 
 these Corroberie dances. This melody is from New 
 South Wales and has been noted with slight variations 
 by Wilkes, Field, and Freycinet. The version of Field 
 is given: 
 
 | ^'' i i i=p- 1 p- p r i np- p p- ^4^ ^ p- p f p' m 
 
 gam-be.ry jaiil 'jm gum re -lab' g^um-be-ry jahJ jixi gam ro • lab' « 
 ^ bang, a - bang, a - bang, a -bang, a - bang, a -bang, a - bang» a - bang. 
 
 But it is, perhaps, among the American Indians, of 
 all savage peoples, that the dance assumes its greatest 
 importance. The very term 'dance' often means a 
 ceremony covering several days; the whole consisting 
 of many individual dances, recitations, and songs, and 
 forming a ritual of a quasi-religious or pantheistic 
 character. Their ceremonies are usually appeals to 
 
 13 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the gods for rain, abundant crops, luck in hunting, or 
 good fortune in war. Thus there is the Great Rain 
 Dance of the Junis; the Sun Dance of the Cheyennes; 
 and the Snake Dance of the Hopis. The Snake Dance 
 is an elaborate ceremony of several days' duration, 
 diu-ing which live rattlesnakes are on occasion carried 
 in the hands and even held between the teeth while a 
 dignified and 'stamping' sort of dance goes forward. 
 It is primarily an invocation to the gods for rain. 
 
 Two melodies used in the Snake Dance are here 
 given, as noted by Benjamin Ives Gilman : 
 
 NSI. 
 
 ^* 
 
 I-.T 
 
 
 *ft 
 
 
 
 --.N 1 1 1 - - 
 
 [FfFfFS 
 
 . N . .-M 
 
 iF* 
 
 1= 
 
 -qt J 1 1 1 1 - . Iir-. ■ . -->.N r. - - ■-^.^ 1 1 1 1 1 1 II 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 1 ^ 
 
 _ — 
 
 
 1 v**v\-- 
 
 1 . .""T". 
 
 _ 
 
 
 
 zdi 
 
 Ng 2. 
 
 'i II 
 
 s — Ht — #■ 
 
 ^ 
 
 =j| 
 
 
 
 ■ I V 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 T pip 
 
 T~h — r — inn — r~ 
 
 — R- 
 
 P H* *■ 
 
 1 ^ K R 1 
 
 r I 
 
 
 ^fe 
 
 
 4#= 
 
 ^ 
 
 4= 
 
 ^ 
 
 =#- 
 
 1^' J' J' 1 J 
 
 ^^ 
 
 1 J' J1 J j=^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 3 
 
 All primitive dances are accompanied by hand clap- 
 ping, stamping of the feet, the beating of stones, the 
 knocking of two sticks of wood together, or something 
 of this nature to keep the time regular and to accentuate 
 the rhythm. Among the Andamanese Islanders thigh- 
 slapping alternates with hand-clapping, and among 
 some tribes the snapping of the. fingers is used. From 
 snapping the fingers to rattling a handful of pebbles 
 was an easy and natural step. This rattling of peb- 
 bles in the hand constituted a kind of rude 'castanets.' 
 These pebbles were soon put into a sea shell or a 
 gourd and thus the first rattles came into existence. 
 Rattles were made by putting pebbles into gourds or 
 other dried, hollow fruits, into tortoise shells, or sea- 
 shells, and even into human skulls, as is the case in 
 New Guinea. In the Snake Dance mentioned above 
 
 14 
 
INSTRUMENTS OF PERCUSSION 
 
 gourd rattles are used, imitating the sound of the rat- 
 tlesnake when angry. The rattle is supposed to be the 
 remote ancestor of the bell. In the place of two sticks, 
 two bones were frequently beaten one upon the other, 
 or struck together while being held between the fingers 
 of one hand. Long mussel shells were also used as 
 clappers. The beating of slabs or plates of stone con- 
 stituted a rude gong. Finally it was discovered that 
 by stretching the skin of an animal tightly over the 
 end of a hollow log and striking it energetically a 
 sharper and more resonant and penetrating noise could 
 be produced than in any other way. Thus the first 
 drums were made. 
 
 The rudest form of drmn on record is evidently that 
 in use among the Andamanese Islanders. It is called 
 the Pukuta Yemnga and consists of a 'shield-shaped 
 piece of wood which is placed with the narrow end in 
 the ground and struck with the foot. The convex side 
 of it follows the shape of the tree from which it has 
 been cut. When in use the convex side of the Pukuta 
 is uppermost' (Portman). It is evidently a kind of 
 sounding board, or foot-drum. 
 
 The drum, roughly speaking, is the oldest musical 
 instrument. It is of great interest to us inasmuch as it 
 still holds a place of honor in the modern orchestra. 
 It is the king of the group of percussion instruments 
 whose object it is, not to produce a tone, but an accent. 
 
 No tribe of savages has been discovered but what is 
 possessed of a drum of some sort. The most usual form 
 of construction of the primitive drum has been that of 
 a section of tree trunk, hollowed out, and covered with 
 skin at each end. Certain trees, such as the bread-fruit 
 tree or the bamboo, render this peculiarly feasible. But 
 drums have been found made from gourds, cocoanuts, 
 calabashes, and many melon-like fruits. Primitive 
 drums range in size from very small hand drums, 
 which can be held in one hand and struck with the 
 
 15 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 other, up to those whose heads are several feet in 
 diameter and require the use of a good stout club as a 
 drumstick. 
 
 The ancient Mexicans possessed a drum which gave 
 forth two distinct tones of definite pitch. It is thus 
 described by Carl Engel in his work on Musical Instru- 
 ments: 'They [the Mexicans] generally made it of a 
 single block of very hard wood, somewhat oblong 
 square in shape, which they hollowed, leaving at each 
 end a solid piece about three or four inches in thick- 
 ness, and at its upper side a kind of sound-board about 
 a quarter of an inch in thickness. In this sound-board, 
 if it may be called so, they made three incisions, 
 namely, two running parallel some distance length- 
 wise of the drum, and a third running across from one 
 of these to the other just in the centre. By this means 
 they obtained two vibrating tongues of wood which, 
 when beaten with a stick, produced sounds as clearly 
 defined as those of our kettledrums.' In some of these 
 wooden drums the two tongues on being struck at the 
 same time produced a third; in others a fifth; in others 
 a sixth, and in some even an octave. The difference in 
 pitch was obtained by making the two tongues of a 
 different thickness, and naturally the greater the dif- 
 ference in thickness the larger was the interval pro- 
 duced. 
 
 A curious instance of drums which give forth a sound 
 of a definite pitch is the bamboo drums, still to be 
 found in some of the islands of the Pacific. These 
 drums were first described in the account of Captain 
 James Cook's third voyage to the Pacific ocean. The 
 whole passage is of exceeding interest, giving as it does 
 a picture of purely primitive musical development un- 
 touched and uninfluenced by any civilized suggestion. 
 The date, as far as I have been able to ascertain, was 
 May 18, 1777, and the place Hapace (Hapai) in the 
 Tonga Island group. The account is as follows: 
 
 16 
 
INSTRUMENTS OF PERCUSSION 
 
 *A chorus of eighteen men seated themselves before 
 us in the centre of the circle composed of numerous 
 spectators, the area of which was to be the scene of the 
 exhibitions. Four or five of this band had large pieces 
 of bamboo, from three to five or six feet long, each 
 managed by one man, who held it nearly in a vertical 
 position, the upper end open, but the other end closed 
 by one of the joints. With this closed end the perform- 
 ers kept constantly striking the ground, though slowly, 
 thus producing different notes according to the differ- 
 ent lengths of the instrimients, but all of them of the 
 hollow or bass sort; to counteract which a person kept 
 striking quickly, and with two sticks, a piece of the 
 same substance, split and laid along the ground, and 
 by that means furnishing a tone as acute as those pro- 
 duced by the others were grave. The rest of the band, 
 as well as those who performed upon the bamboos, 
 sang a slow and soft air, which so much tempered the 
 harsher notes of the above instruments that no by- 
 stander, however accustomed to hear the most perfect 
 and varied modulations of sweet sounds, could avoid 
 confessing the vast power and pleasing effect of this 
 harmony.' 
 
 Captain James King, who was with Captain Cook 
 during his last voyage, also writes concerning these 
 bamboo drums as follows: 'In their regular concerts 
 each man had a bamboo which was of a different 
 length and gave a different tone. These they beat 
 against the ground, and each performer, assisted by 
 the note given by this instrument, repeated the same 
 note, accompanying it with words, by which means it 
 was rendered sometimes short and sometimes long. In 
 this manner they sang in chorus, and not only produced 
 octaves to each other, according to their species of 
 voice, but fell on concords such as were not disagree- 
 able to the ear.' 
 
 17 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 IV 
 
 The latter part of this quotation from Captain King 
 raises the interesting question of the existence of har- 
 mony in primitive music. This question has been much- 
 discussed. Travellers have certainly brought back 
 wdnderful tales of part singing among primitive peo- 
 ples. Unfortunately most of these travellers have not 
 possessed any very accurate musical knowledge, hence 
 their statements cannot for the most part be regarded 
 as of scientific value. Especially does this apply to 
 statements concerning harmony or the harmonic inter- 
 vals. The appreciation of a melody or 'tune' is about 
 as much as tiie man of average intelligence is capable 
 of. But the determination of the relation of the notes 
 of this tune to other sounds produced at the same time 
 requires a more special or technical knowledge. 
 
 At a first consideration of the subject one is led, some- 
 what hastily, to conclude that when definite harmonic 
 intervals occur in savage music they are entirely the 
 result of accident, and not of design. In his description 
 of a dance, native to the bushmen of Australia, Elson 
 says: 'The music to this odd performance is not in 
 unison; the dancer sings one air, the spectators another, 
 and the driun gives a species of "ground bass" to the 
 whole.' To have arranged these two 'airs' so that they, 
 on being sung simultaneously, would have produced a 
 concordant and musical result would have required a 
 degree of mental development of which the bushman is 
 not to be suspected. In this, and many similar in- 
 stances, we may safely assume that such harmonic in- 
 tervals as may have been produced were purely the 
 result of accident. There are, however, so many in- 
 stances on record, and of undoubted authenticity, in 
 which it is seen that certain savages have consciously 
 striven to produce concords, both in their singing and 
 
 18 
 
HARMONIC TRACES 
 
 in their rude instruments, that these cannot be disre- 
 garded in an impartial consideration of the question. 
 Of great interest in this connection is the following 
 song, which was obtained by G. Forster at the Tonga 
 Islands about the year 1775: 
 
 It will be seen that this song ends with a chord of 
 three tones; a triad, in other words. It will also be 
 seen that each of the tones in the triad (with the ex- 
 ception of e) has been sounded more than once in the 
 preceding melody. In fact, with the exception of d, 
 all the tones of the melody are constituent tones of the 
 triad. After singing these tones in melodic sequence, 
 or one after the other, it was surely a most natural 
 procedure to sing them at the same time, so that they 
 should sound together. Thus the triad was quite nat- 
 urally produced. Drayton, who visited the Tonga 
 Islands some seventy years after Forster, also mentions 
 the fact of their ending some of their songs with a 
 well-defined triad. But whereas the triad in the song 
 noted by Forster is minor, that spoken of by Drayton 
 is a major triad. In either case the fact is sufficiently 
 remarkable. 
 
 In the narrative of the Wilkes exploring expedition 
 we find a song noted in which use is made of the har- 
 monic intervals in the accompaniment of a melody. 
 The song was obtained at the Tonga Islands about 
 1840. In its use of harmony it is one degree in advance 
 of the song collected by Forster, although not so in- 
 teresting melodically: 
 
 fH | :Tl |r l i i i r i JJinLi i r i > lUL ii rr JJl r^F ii rr 
 
 i Accomp. 
 
 J J J^ 
 
 19 
 
 ^^ 
 
 ^W 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 At first the bass note makes a fifth with the principal 
 melodic note. Later the third is added, making the 
 complete major triad. It is also worth noting that 
 these harmonic bass tones are in a slightly different 
 rhythm from the melody and preserve an independent 
 character as an accompaniment to the melody. Per- 
 haps the most striking instance, however, of the con- 
 scious use by savages of concordant musical intervals 
 is afforded by the following little song noted by the 
 traveller Forster as having been sung by the original 
 inhabitants of New Zealand: 
 
 To have sung this melody in thirds, to have ended 
 it in unison, and then to have gone back to the thirds 
 again was certainly a most remarkable feat for the 
 savage mind to accomplish, and decidedly points to 
 conscious intention rather than mere accident. 
 
 While the knowledge and the development of the 
 science of harmony is one of the fruits of European 
 civilization, and as a science is well-nigh confined to 
 Europe exclusively, we still must admit that where- 
 as primitive man had no knowledge of harmony 
 he had a feeling for it, and that this feeling led him, 
 though somewhat blindly, to the attainment of certain 
 fundamental harmonic intervals. These intervals he 
 evidently valued and used consciously. It is certainly 
 of interest to note that a germ or suggestion of harmony 
 existed in the primitive mind; that this element, as well 
 as the other elements of music, has a natural basis. 
 
 We have seen how naturally the percussion instru- 
 ments were developed; how they sprang into being, as 
 it were, in response to an innate necessity for rhythmic 
 
 20 
 
PRIMITIVE WIND INSTRUMENTS 
 
 expression, an inevitable accompaniment of the dance 
 and the dance-song. Almost at the same time wind 
 instrmnents of a simple and rude kind were fash- 
 ioned. Whistles were made from the bones of animals 
 with the marrow removed. Pipes were made from 
 hollow reeds, while conch shells and the horns of deer- 
 like animals furnished the first trumpets. These primi- 
 tive whistles, pipes, and deer-horn trumpets * when 
 blown were capable of giving forth but one tone. How- 
 ever, it is highly probable that, as their makers grew 
 more familiar with the effect of the varying pressure 
 of the lips, certain partials of the fundamental tone 
 were produced, such as the octave, the fifth, and even 
 the third. Eventually a series of holes were pierced in 
 them, thus making it possible by means of stopping 
 and unstopping these holes with tiie fingers to produce 
 a rude scale of tones. But the first whistles were evi- 
 dently of the one tone variety. An interesting relic of 
 this description has recently been exhumed by N. Lartet 
 in the department of Dordogne, France. It consists of 
 a small bone, probably of the reindeer, about two inches 
 in length. Through this bone near one end a small hole 
 has been bored, probably by a sharp piece of hard 
 stone, like flint. By applying the lips to this hole and 
 blowing strongly a shrill whistUng sound is produced. 
 This was no doubt used in hunting, or as a call. In a 
 cave at Lombrive in the department of Ariege several 
 dog-teeth with similar holes for whisthng have likewise 
 been discovered. 
 
 To construct an instrument of the whistle variety 
 which should produce more than one tone was the 
 next step. On whistles or pipes of different lengths 
 tones of different pitches can be produced, low tones 
 from long pipes, higher tones from shorter pipes. So 
 different lengths of whistles were rudely bound to- 
 gether, the longest at one end, the shortest at the other 
 
 * Horns made from elephant tusks have been found in central Africa. 
 
 21 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 end, and the intermediate ones arranged in a sequence 
 according to their relative lengths. Thus an instrument 
 was made from which it was possible to obtain a suc- 
 cession of rising tones, a primitive scale. As with the 
 drum among percussion instruments, so this instrument 
 among wind instruments occupies a place of honor. 
 The invention of the drum sums up for us all previously 
 existing rhythmic musical impulses, and this collection 
 of whistles gives us an instrument on which the pro- 
 duction of a sequence of different tones or musical 
 scale is possible. It has been given the poetical 
 name of 'Pan's Pipes.' These 'Pan's Pipes,' of more or 
 less primitive construction, are found quite generally 
 among the savage tribes of the world. Specimens have 
 been found in South America consisting of but two 
 flutes or pipes, a kind of double flute, as it were; while 
 specimens with a variable number of pipes, from six 
 or seven up to fifteen, have been found among the in- 
 habitants of the various islands of Polynesia. Stumpf, 
 in Die Anfdnge der Musik, reproduces a photograph 
 taken in southwest Africa, showing an orchestra of 
 Pan's Pipes. There are eleven performers, each hold- 
 ing a set of pipes. The instruments are of several 
 sizes; the smallest being about six inches and the larg- 
 est five or six feet in length. Archaeological discoveries 
 in the ancient tombs or burial places of barbarous or 
 semi-civilized peoples bring many curious specimens 
 to light. In the British museum there is a Pan's pipe 
 consisting of a double row of reeds bound together 
 exactly opposite each other; a sort of double Pan's 
 Pipes. Each series consists of seven reed pipes, and 
 while one series of pipes remains open, allowing the 
 free passage of air through them, all the pipes of the 
 second series have been closed at the lower end. Now, 
 to stop a pipe at the bottom has the effect of raising its 
 pitch an octave. It was evidently the intention that 
 two of these pipes shoiild be blown at once and when 
 
 22 
 
'Orchestra' of Pan's Pipes 
 
 From a photograph reproduced in Stumpff's 'Anfange der Masik' 
 
PRIMITIVE WIND INSTRUMENTS 
 
 this is done through the whole series the following suc- 
 cession of tones is produced: 
 
 This is a five-toned or pentatonic scale, the last two 
 tones being merely duplicates in octave of the first 
 two. The scale of five tones, arranged in varying se- 
 quence, is a primitive form of scale. "While not so 
 primitive as some (scales of three or four tones, for 
 instance), it is still much more so than the scales on 
 which our modern art of music is based. 
 
 Another specimen of ancient Peruvian 'Pan's Pipes,' 
 at present in the New York Museiun of Natural His- 
 tory, gives the following scale: 
 
 This is a scale of eight tones and bears some slight 
 relation to the minor scale in use at the present day. 
 
 Among the Tahitians Captain Cook observed that 
 the raising or lowering of the pitch of a single flute or 
 pipe was accomplished by rolling up a leaf in tubular 
 form, inserting this improvised tube into the bottom 
 of the flute and pushing it in or drawing it out until 
 the required pitch was obtained. Some such device as 
 this quite probably suggested the obtaining of different 
 tones from the same pipe. The roUed-up leaf itself was 
 used as a pipe capable of giving forth a true musical 
 tone. 
 
 One of the natives of the Sandwich Islands, on being 
 questioned in regard to their primitive musical instru- 
 ments, stripped a leaf from the ti plant and, rolling it 
 up somewhat in the shape of an old-fashioned lamp- 
 lighter, blew through it, producing a tone of pure reed- 
 like quality. Emerson says: 'This little rustic pipe, 
 
 23 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 quickly improvised from the leaf that every Hawaiian 
 garden supplies, would at once convert any skeptic to 
 a belief in the pipes of the god Pan.* 
 
 Among the inhabitants of New Guinea a flute or pipe 
 is in use in which the tones are varied by means of a 
 slide which is pushed into the tube or withdrawn in 
 much the same manner as the roUed-up leaf mentioned 
 by Captain Cook, but evidently on a much more ex- 
 tensive scale. This is in effect a primitive trombone. 
 
 Finally, flutes or pipes which are pierced with holes 
 are found among many savage tribes, who have dis- 
 covered that the effect of lengthening or shortening the 
 tube could be obtained by boring holes in it and stop- 
 ping them or unstopping them with the fingers. Simple 
 as this may appear to us, it was a great discovery for 
 the savage mind to make, and must have been the cul- 
 mination of many groping attempts to attain this end 
 extending through long ages. 
 
 On the most primitive instruments of this nature 
 the finger holes were but two or three in number, but 
 flutes or pipes are now found among nearly all savages 
 capable of giving scales of from five to eight tones. 
 Fetis figures and describes an instrument made from 
 the horn of a stag, which was found in an ancient sepul- 
 chre, near Poitiers, France. This instrument, which is 
 a sort of trumpet or flute-a-bec.-f is pierced with three 
 holes and gives a series of four diatonic tones. The 
 lowest with aU the holes stopped; the next higher with 
 one finger raised, and so on. It is described as being 
 made with great care and precision, the holes having 
 been placed with an exactitude which would seem to 
 indicate a considerable knowledge and appreciation of 
 certain facts of acoustics. 
 
 In the sepulchre where this instrument was found 
 
 *Nath. B. Emerson: The tJn-written Literature of Hawaii, 1909. 
 t Flute-d-bec = beak flute ; one wliich is played by blowing through 
 the end. 
 
 24 
 
PRIMITIVE WIND INSTRUMENTS 
 
 there were arms and other implements made of stone. 
 This musical instrument, therefore, almost surely dates 
 from the later period of the stone age, which age pre- 
 ceded in point of time the age in which man discovered 
 and made use of the metals. It is therefore prehistoric 
 and undoubtedly of very great antiquity. In the New 
 York Museum of Natural History there is a collection 
 of ancient bone flutes from Peru. These flutes are 
 pierced with finger holes and give various scales of 
 four, five, and six tones. The four-toned scale 
 
 Si^r^t^ 1^', sounds entirely rational and is in accord- 
 ance with our modem ideas of diatonic succession; 
 also this five-toned scale A jJJfr^ and thit six-toned 
 
 scale ^ pp^ri^ . But certain other scales given by 
 
 these flutes appear to be more or less freakish in char- 
 acter and consist of a somewhat hit-or-miss collection 
 of tones, indicating either a very crude musical sense 
 among the ancient Peruvians, or very little skill on the 
 part of the makers of the flutes : 
 
 ^ rTriTi i l jjiiJJ jgpi 
 
 A 'cane' flute in the collection gives this scale: 
 
 Nose flutes are found at the present day among many 
 tribes. These are made from a section of bamboo 
 or other cane-like wood from which the pith has been 
 removed. The top end is left closed by the joint and a 
 hole pierced on the side very near the top. Finger 
 holes from two to four in number are bored in the tube 
 of the flute. In playing the flute is pressed firmly 
 against the lips, taking care that the little hole near 
 the top end is covered by one nostril. Music of an ex- 
 
 25 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 tempore kind is now produced by breathing into the 
 instrument and covering and uncovering the finger 
 holes in the usual manner; the length of the piece of 
 music being determined by the breath of the per- 
 former. The following specimen of nose-flute music 
 was collected by Miss Jennie Eisner in Hawaii: 
 
 The development of these primitive wind instru- 
 ments is usually ascribed to a slightly later period than 
 that of the development of the first percussion instru- 
 ments. The construction of wind instruments is con- 
 sidered to represent a slightly higher degree of mental 
 development in man, and hence they are not regarded 
 by ethnologists as being so primitive as the percus- 
 sion instruments. Nevertheless Wallaschek insists that 
 the first instruments to be developed were wind instru- 
 ments, alleging in proof the discovery of some Egyptian 
 flutes which he asserts antedate any other musical in- 
 struments of which we have any record. It is cer- 
 tainly true that the physical organism of man contains- 
 in itself the prototype of all wind instruments, i. e., the 
 voice. But it is equally true that hand clapping and 
 the stamping of the feet are also native to him, and 
 these are undoubtedly the prototypes of all percussion 
 instruments. The isolated fact of the discovery of these 
 flutes is not of sufficient weight, to our mind, to justify 
 the belief that wind instruments were developed an- 
 terior to percussion instruments. 
 
 As the appreciation of the fact of definite musical 
 tones being obtainable on instruments took' root and 
 grew in the human mind, and especially as these tones 
 
 26 
 
PRIMITIVE WIND INSTRUMENTS 
 
 began to be arranged in definite series or scales, an- 
 other instrument of a remarkable nature was devel- 
 oped. It was a percussion instrument, but one on 
 which could be produced not only a tone having a 
 definite pitch, but a whole series or scale of tones. 
 Hence it was as capable of reproducing a melody as 
 some of the primitive pipes or flutes. This was the 
 xylophone. This instrument, having its far distant 
 origin in the two sticks of wood which were struck to- 
 gether to produce a rhythmical noise by the most 
 primitive savages, has been brought to its greatest per- 
 fection by the Africans and the Guatemalans. Its 
 principle of construction is similar to that of the Pan's 
 Pipes; a series of sticks or bars of wood arranged ac- 
 cording to their relative lengths; the longer giving forth 
 the lower tones, and the tones growing higher in pitch 
 as the sticks grow shorter. The series of sounding 
 sticks of wood are in Africa usually fixed over a gourd, 
 a series of gourds, or a drum-like instrument which acts 
 as a sounding-board, thus giving the pieces of wood 
 greater sonority. This instrument, as it is found among 
 many of the African tribes, has a compass of from one 
 to two octaves and gives approximately the tones of 
 our usual diatonic scale. It aroused the admiration 
 of Junod to such an extent that he refers to it as the 
 'African piano,' not an inapt name, by the way. The 
 marimba of the Guatemalans, while not exactly a 
 xylophone, is a percussion instrmnent which is capable 
 of giving a scale of definite tones. According to Wal- 
 laschek 'it consists of a number of gourds (as many as 
 sixteen) covered with a flat piece of wood, beaten with 
 a stick, and produces different tones acording to the 
 size of the gourd.' The tone is said to resemble very 
 much that of our modern piano. 
 
 The development of drums, such elementary wind 
 instruments as have been noted, the xylophone, a sug- 
 gestion of harmony and the rude idea of a scale, make 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 up the sum of the musical accomplishment of prim- 
 itive man. It is true that the precursor of the stringed 
 instrimients is to be found in the hunting bow, and a 
 few cases are found where this is used as a sort of one- 
 stringed harp, the string being either struck with a 
 stick or plucked with the fingers. Mention must also 
 be made of the African goura, a sort of a primitive 
 iEolian harp. It has but one string, and is similar in 
 shape to the child's small bow for shooting arrows. It 
 has a quill affixed to one end in such a way that the 
 string may be vibrated by blowing through the quill. 
 The fingers are then lightly touched to the string, and 
 a few faint harmonic-like sounds are produced. But, 
 generally speaking, the development of stringed instru- 
 ments is not to be looked for among savage peoples, 
 it coincides with the rise of man from barbarism to 
 some degree of civilization. 
 
 VI 
 
 It is impossible to trace the progress of music in un- 
 broken sequence from its primitive beginnings to its 
 development as an art by civilized nations. The rec- 
 ord is far too fragmentary. There are too many miss- 
 ing links, too many isolated and well-nigh inexpli- 
 cable facts. Thus, among semi-civilized peoples like 
 the Malays, the Bedouins, and the people of Africa, 
 we find music of a comparatively high order and soph- 
 isticated nature. It is inconceivable that these people 
 should have developed this music by their own in- 
 itiative. The only reasonable explanation is that it 
 has been acquired to a certain extent from educated 
 travellers and explorers. In this process it has been 
 unconsciously modified so that it usually reflects both 
 elements — the barbaric and the civilized. The follow- 
 ing melody, which is a song in use by the 'medicine 
 men' of southeastern Africa for the exercising or ex- 
 
 28 
 
 o 
 
SEMI-CIVILIZED PEOPLES 
 
 pelling of an evil spirit from a person supposed to be 
 possessed by it, is a case in point: 
 
 While this melody has an undoubted barbaric char- 
 acter as a whole, it shows traces of civilized influence. 
 It is quite definitely in the key of G, even though it 
 contains no F-sharp, and the passages for chorus sound 
 anything but barbaric. From the same district comes 
 the following war song. "While structurally, especially 
 in regard to the use of the musical intervals, it exhibits 
 considerable musical sophistication, the general effect 
 is wild and primitive. This war song was in actual 
 use in 1895. 
 
 Among many of the semi-civilized tribes of Africa 
 harps are found to be in use, some having as many as 
 sixteen strings. The oboe, an instrument of a much 
 higher type than the primitive pipe, is also found. 
 It is conjectured that the Africans derived the harp 
 from ancient Egypt, as many of those in use at the 
 present day much resemble in form certain harps 
 which we find represented in ancient Egyptian sculp- 
 tures and has reliefs. As for the oboe, it was almost 
 certainly introduced by Arabian traders. 
 
 Among several tribes, but particularly the Ashan- 
 tees, is to be found a rude sort of stringed instrument 
 which in construction is somewhat midway between 
 a harp and a banjo, and has some of the characteristics 
 of each. It is called a sanko. It has eight strings, the 
 
 29 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 lowest of which is tuned to middle 'C and the highest 
 an octave above. The intermediary strings fairly rep- 
 resent the tones of the usual diatonic scale. The 
 origin of the sanko is known to be Arabian, but its 
 construction has undoubtedly undergone some modifi- 
 cation in the hands of the Africans. It is capable of 
 giving forth incipient harmony, and its negro players 
 make frequent use of thirds, sixths and even chords 
 of three tones (triads). Here are two specimens of 
 music played upon the sanko, both collected and tran- 
 scribed by T. E. Bowdich in Ashantee: 
 
 NS ' AUegro 
 
 inj-jj-jN J irJJJflN J \ [pr^\l^n]ii 
 
 N92 
 
 The first of these tunes is claimed by the natives of 
 Ashantee to be their oldest traditional tune. It cer- 
 tainly seems to possess all the crudity of true primitive 
 music. The second tune is far more highly and ration- 
 ally organized and shows more decidedly the effect of 
 external influence. Quite free from the possible modi- 
 fication of European imitation, however, are the fol- 
 lowing fragments, recently taken down on the phono- 
 graph by Sir Harry Johnston in Uganda. It is to be 
 regretted that the notation is not more exact.* 
 
 * We have ventured to change certain notes, such as substituting D-flat 
 for C-sharp, for instance. While this in no way alters the tune, the musi- 
 cal intervals are more readily grasped by the reader, 
 
 30 
 
SEMI-CIVILIZED PEOPLES 
 
 (Bagasda trfbe) 
 
 Bsi j rrrJLT^r i ^p |ir ^u \ ii rrrrr^r ^r r p' ^i 
 
 sung with (lute aooompanlment 
 
 N?2 
 
 N93 
 
 Algernon Rose has described a peculiar kind of xylo- 
 phone which he saw in South Africa. It consists of a 
 series of ten or more pieces of bamboo of different 
 lengths. All are fastened tightly at one end to a board, 
 leaving the other end free. This other end is plucked 
 with the thvunb or fingers, after the manner of a harp 
 string. The pieces of bamboo being plucked in this 
 manner, each gives forth a sound, and as they are of 
 diJBFerent lengths it is possible to produce a series of 
 different sounds; a rudimentary musical scale. Rose 
 refers to the instrument as a 'clicker' and finds it to be 
 in use among the Kaffirs. T. E. Bowdich also mentions 
 an instrument which seems to be, from his description, 
 almost identical with the instrument described above. 
 This he found to be in use in Ashantee before 1819. 
 He gives the following air as having . been played 
 upon it: 
 
 This certainly sounds quite natural to civilized ears. 
 Bowdich also mentions a one-stringed instrument 
 called the bentwa, which seems to have been played 
 much in the manner of a jew's-harp. He says : 
 
 'The Bentwa is a stick bent in the form of a bow, 
 and across it is fastened a very thin piece of split cane 
 which is held between the lips at one end and struck 
 
 31 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 with a small stick, while at the other it is occasionally 
 stopped, or rather buffed by a thick one; on this they 
 play only lively airs, and it owes its various sounds to 
 the lips.' He also gives this tune as having been played 
 upon this instrument. Its resemblance to certain Irish 
 jigs in 6/8 time is worthy of remark. 
 
 j ii , i.n]j iii j.ji]jjjij.ji]jpij7^j.j7]ijjjjj ]j_ i 
 
 There also exists among one of the lesser known 
 tribes (the Empoongua) an instrument having five 
 strings, said to be made of the filaments of the palm 
 tree. Bowdich describes this instrument as being 
 made of pieces of bamboo, which being bound to- 
 gether form a species of sounding board over which 
 the strings are stretched lengthwise and held up by 
 means of bridges at the ends. He gives the following 
 tune as having been played on this instrument: 
 
 Allegro 
 
 While the study of some of the musical instruments 
 of semi-civilized peoples is of ethnological interest the 
 music itself is questionably so, inasmuch as it is more 
 or less of a jumble of two elements — the barbaric and 
 the civilized. Hence it is not of real significance in 
 tracing the natural rise and evolution of the art. Much 
 of the music of semi-barbarous peoples does not consist 
 of what they have themselves developed during their 
 rise from savagery, but consists more frequently of 
 diluted, distorted and malappropriated bits of melody 
 which have by devious routes reached them from civ- 
 ilization. 
 
 32 
 
THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN 
 
 VII 
 
 Of especial interest to Americans is the music of the 
 North American Indians. It is difficult to characterize 
 this music by a few general remarks, as there are, or 
 rather were, over fifty different tribes, each of which 
 had its own peculiar music. The whole mass of tunes 
 presented many interesting varieties, both in structure 
 and rhythm. 
 
 Music among the Indians did not occupy the place of 
 an art. Song was not indulged in for the sake of giving 
 pleasure, and music can hardly be said to have been 
 developed among them in response to a love of melody 
 for its own sake. There can be no doubt that among 
 the Africans and other semi-barbarous peoples mu- 
 sic, however rude, gives a genuine aesthetic pleasure, 
 even though of a primitive sort. But among the Indians 
 music was too closely bound up with ritual to have 
 much of an independent existence as music. Song was 
 the inevitable accompaniment of every important act 
 or ceremony in tribal or individual life. Each prayer, 
 incantation, tribal or individual ceremony had its own 
 appropriate song, and it was considered unlawful to 
 sing this particular song except in accompaniment of 
 this particular prayer or ceremony. Certain songs hav- 
 ing to do with ceremonies which occurred at certain 
 seasons of the year could only be heard at these sea- 
 sons. The song, as a song, had no existence apart from 
 the ceremony. It is true that gambling songs, and 
 songs of labor, such as corn-grinding songs, are to be 
 found among many of the tribes, but these are appar- 
 ently variations of the general rule, and that they were 
 indulged in for the sake of aesthetic pleasure is very 
 doubtful. Between certain tribes on the Pacific coast 
 there were indeed singing contests, but it is learned on 
 investigation that these contests were largely trials of 
 
 33 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 memory, their object being to ascertain who could re- 
 member accurately the greatest number of songs. 
 
 In general it may be said that the melodies of the 
 northern tribes, such as the 'Iroquois,' 'Algonquin,' or 
 'Kwakiutl,' are much ruder and present more rugged 
 characteristics than those of the southern tribes, such 
 as the 'Zunis' or 'Navahoes.' These southern Indian 
 melodies are much more graceful. This difference is 
 well shown by the two following melodies. The first 
 is from Dakota; the second from New Mexico: 
 
 (Dacotah) 
 
 (Hopl) 
 
 
 ,j i'' jj jjiJir^rr ifiiJ inn i .r^pinrip'^ icargi 
 
 A peculiarity of the Dakota melody is the downward 
 leap of a fourth to be seen in the second measure. The 
 use of the interval of the fourth as a prominent melo- 
 dic interval is quite a general characteristic of Indian 
 music, and is noticeable in the music of many different 
 tribes. The following Scalp Dance from Minnesota 
 illustrates this: 
 
 ^y-'\X rr i i vr r-rir i r rTiC irrVir iT rri ^ 
 ^r rTir i rrrriitrrr nar r-rir ir r-n ^ 
 
 Again, it may be said that the larger number of 
 Indian tunes have a falling melodic inflection. True 
 to the most primitive characteristic of savage music, 
 that of beginning on a high tone and descending gradu- 
 
 34 
 
THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN 
 
 ally to the bottom of the voice, the melodic course of 
 the great majority of Indian tunes is ever downward. 
 It is not an unusual thing for an Indian tune to end on 
 a tone an octave and a half lower than that on which 
 it began. The following dance song, also from Minne- 
 sota, illustrates this: 
 
 M^.Jziao 
 
 Among the Indians the drum is naturally the instru- 
 ment most frequently in use. There are but few songs 
 or ceremonies in which it does not play a vital part. 
 It is almost always used to accompany a singer, ap- 
 parently to mark the time; but curiously enough the 
 rhythm of the drum is sometimes at variance with 
 the rhythm of the song. The rhythmic values of the 
 vocal melody, on the one hand, and the different 
 rhythm of its drum accompaniment, on the other, are 
 so persistently independent that the effect is very evi- 
 dently intentional. Rattles are sometimes used instead 
 of the drum, as is the case in the Snake Dances of the 
 Hopis already referred to. 
 
 The only other musical instrument deserving the 
 name which is in widespread use is the so-called flute. 
 This flute, pierced with six holes and blown through 
 the end (not across the side) is used as a courting or 
 love-making instrument on which to serenade the loved 
 one. The fragments of melody which are played upon 
 
 35 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 it are largely extempore and are understood by the 
 Indian maiden as a declaration of love. The follow- 
 ing is a sample of one of these flute love-calls: 
 
 With the exception of the flute and its love-calls, in- 
 strumental music can be said not to exist among the 
 Indians. With them music is almost entirely song. 
 And, as the most important element of their songs is 
 not primarily their strictly musical value, this paucity 
 of their instrumental music is only what might be ex- 
 pected. It is interesting to note, however, that practi- 
 cally in the only case in which music occurs divorced 
 from ritual in Indian life, it appears as an expression of 
 the love emotion. This is significant when considered 
 in connection with Darwin's theory of the origin of 
 music cited above. 
 
 Even though the music of the Indians is almost en- 
 tirely a by-product of ritual it would be wrong to con- 
 clude that as music it is lacking in character. While 
 many of their ritualistic songs are merely a sort of 
 recitative in which the melody is much distorted and 
 drawn out to accommodate the words, others are quite 
 perfect in their form and general melodic organization, 
 and of a truly distinctive and forceful character; as, 
 for instance, the following 'Song of the Wolf,' which 
 was collected by Dr. Boas among the Kwakiutl tribe 
 in the northwest: 
 
 eona of the wolf 
 
THE NORTH AMERICAN INDIAN 
 
 Nothing like a scientific study of Indian music was 
 attempted until 1880. In that year Theodore Baker 
 lived a while on the Seneca reservation, in the state 
 of New York, and collected and studied such Indian 
 melodies as he could there obtain. The results of his 
 studies were embodied in a pamphlet and published 
 under the title, Ober die Musik der nordamerikan- 
 ischen Wilden. This litjle book first drew the atten- 
 tion of ethnologists and others to the hitherto unsus- 
 pected existence of a large and important native musi- 
 cal culture among the Indians. Before 1880 investi- 
 gators of the Indian and his native culture had entirely 
 ignored his music, considering it to be mere barbaric 
 noise not worthy of attention. Even Schoolcraft, in his 
 great work published in 1854, said: 'Indian music is 
 very simple. It consists of about four notes.' Since the 
 publication of Baker's essay, however, the subject has 
 not lacked investigators. The application by Prof. 
 Fewkes, of Harvard University, of the phonograph to 
 the accurate recording of Indian melody has been used 
 with brilliant success by investigators. Through the 
 efforts of such workers as Alice C. Fletcher, Frederick 
 R. Burton, Franz Boaz, James Mooney, Natalie Curtis, 
 Frances Densmore, and others, thousands of Indian 
 songs of many different kinds have been collected, writ- 
 ten down, and published, forming a library of Ameri- 
 can primitive music of great completeness and inesti- 
 mable value to students of the subject. 
 
 VIII 
 
 In collecting and studying the music of primitive 
 peoples great diflficulty is experienced in obtaining 
 trustworthy data. Almost all the savage and semi-bar- 
 barous peoples of the world at the present day have 
 been in contact more or less with civilized man for so 
 long that they have acquired by imitation many of his 
 
 37 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 manners, customs, and ideas. Thus the savage's origi- 
 nal development has been overlaid as it were with a 
 varnish of culture, which is foreign, not native, to him. 
 The first civilized men to come in contact with a savage 
 tribe have not as a rule been intent upon observing 
 their manners and customs nor upon recording their 
 primitive music or folk-lore. These first men have 
 usually come as discoverers and as conquerors. They 
 have been followed by missionaries, who in their zeal 
 to perpetuate the doctrines of Christianity have been 
 ever anxious to divert the minds of the people from 
 their ancient traditions, by sustituting for them stories 
 from Bible history. Their ancient songs and barba- 
 rous-sounding incantations, however interesting to the 
 ethnologist, have been in most cases tabooed by the mis- 
 sionaries as impious, who substituted for them the 
 hymns of the church. This thing has happened in 
 Australia, New Zealand, Polynesia, Africa, and par- 
 ticularly in America, the Indian tribes having been so 
 inoculated with musical ideas, hymns, and scraps of 
 folk song, that it is frequently only with great difficulty 
 that the character of their own primitive music can be 
 determined. 
 
 A collection of the music of the Hopi tribe, who dwell 
 in seven naturally fortified hill towns in the desert of 
 Arizona, reveals to a large extent Spanish influence. 
 Many of their melodies have the grace and movement 
 of Spanish dances. This is quite explicable, however, 
 when it is remembered that the Spanish held dominion 
 over these towns from 1580 to 1680. Spanish influence 
 is also apparent in the music of the aboriginal inhabi- 
 tants of the Philippine Islands, and in the traditional 
 music of the Mexicans and Peruvians. Brasseur de 
 Bourbourg has translated into French from the 
 Quinche, the former Mayan tongue, an ancient manu- 
 script called 'Rabinal-Achi.' It is an immense dramatic 
 ballet accompanied by music and danced and acted by 
 
 38 
 
INFLUENCE OF MODERN CULTURE 
 
 hundreds of performers. But when we come to exam- 
 ine this music it is only to find that it has an unmistak- 
 ably Spanish character. 
 
 From the fascinating histories of Francis Parkman 
 it is plainly seen with what zeal the early Jesuit mis- 
 sionaries strove to Christianize the Canadian tribes of 
 Indians. At the present day it is not an unusual thing 
 to find turns of melody and even whole tunes which 
 resemble to a large extent certain hymns of the Catholic 
 Church. Frederick R. Burton, who has investigated the 
 Ojibways' music, says that, while on one of his trips in 
 the vicinity of Lake Huron, he fell in with a particu- 
 larly isolated tribe of these Indians. He asked them to 
 sing one of their old choruses. The Indians complied 
 and — sang a garbled version of 'Old Hundred.' 
 
 The innate love of music among the African blacks 
 has been remarked. Their imitative powers are like- 
 wise well known. We are told by Theophilus Hahn of 
 an instance in which not only the music but the words 
 of certain Dutch hymns, the latter being entirely unin- 
 telligible to the negroes, were remembered and re- 
 peated almost exactly, after being heard but once by 
 them. Noirot,* after calling attention to the great re- 
 semblance existing between certain African airs and 
 English jig tunes, or French vaudeville songs, says : 'It 
 is necessary, however, to make an exception of those 
 slow and monotonous phrases which are sung by the 
 young women to accompany dancing, and of the airs 
 played on the Bambara flute. In these we again per- 
 ceive the savage aspect of this music; the chant inspired 
 by the patriarchal life of the blacks.' A specimen of 
 one of these airs is here given : 
 
 Chorus of Women accompanied by Flnte 
 
 *A travers le Fouta-Diallon et le Bamboue. 
 
 39 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 The first collectors of the music of the various sav- 
 age tribes naturally were obliged to write it down in 
 ordinary musical notation. Rut savages in their primi- 
 tive melodies, like certain animals in their quasi-musi- 
 cal cries, continually use intervals of less than a semi- 
 tone. In writing down these primitive melodies in our 
 notation it has been necessary to disregard these small 
 intervals and to treat them as accidental happenings, a 
 mere out-of-tuneness, as it were. The note written 
 down has always been assumed to represent the tone 
 which the primitive singer was trying unsuccessfully 
 to produce. Rut instances of these variations from the 
 tones of the orthodox chromatic scale finally became so 
 numerous as to give rise to the belief that savages con- 
 sciously made use of quarter tones in their songs. 
 This belief has had many learned and eloquent de- 
 fenders, among whom may be mentioned James A. 
 Davies * and Renjamin Ives Gilman.f The truth of this 
 theory is, however, very doubtful. The conscious use 
 of the quarter tones or intervals smaller than those 
 in use in European music would indicate a much more 
 refined perception of tones and their relations, a much 
 more delicate musical ear, than is possessed by civi- 
 lized Europeans. And this is hardly to be reasonably 
 expected of savages. Moreover, during recent years 
 the writer has examined some hundreds of Indian 
 songs as recorded by the phonograph. Many repeti- 
 tions of single songs have been examined by him. As 
 a general rule the repetitions fail to agree in length, 
 rhythm, or accuracy of intonation. Frequently they 
 agree only in general contour. Any single tone is 
 liable to vary up or down at least a quarter of a tone, 
 and in some cases the variation is as much as a full 
 tone. Now if the Indians consciously use quarter tones 
 in their songs, one would expect to find a regular recur- 
 
 * See Sir George Gray: Polynesian Mythology. 
 t See 'Hopi Songs.' 
 
 40 
 
INFLUENCE OF MODERN CULTURE 
 
 rence of these small intervals at the same place in each 
 subsequent repetition of the song. Rut as such is very 
 far from being the case, one is led to conclude that 
 while these fractional intervals do really occur, their 
 occurrence is much more the result of accident than of 
 conscious intention. These conclusions in regard to 
 North American Indian music apply, we believe, to the 
 music of all savages. 
 
 The characteristics of that which is primitive are 
 undoubted strength, directness of expression, and con- 
 sequent effectiveness, but this elemental strength is 
 coupled with crudity, inaccuracy, and an apparent law- 
 lessness or impatience of restraint. No matter how 
 charming, how effective, or how interesting many of 
 these strains of primitive music may seem to us from an 
 ethnological point of view, it is apparent that the mind 
 of man has not yet grasped and moulded this tonal ma- 
 terial. Primitive music does not show the effect of 
 thought. It is merely the wild and wayward expression 
 of emotion. 
 
 It was when the rudimentary successions of tones 
 known to primitive man were gathered up and scien- 
 tifically arranged in definite and unalterable scales that 
 our modern art of music began. And at this point our 
 survey of primitive music properly ends. HFC 
 
 SPECnSNOFANDAMANESE MUSIC 
 M.M J : vn 
 
 Noted by H. V Ftortnuw 
 
 DoD^IakateggllelxluaJad&Ull^aJurabD^ D*(5tdgarlerajotocliallb«o Dthogarteraloto chill beo 
 DaneeStcp 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 EXOTIC MUSIC * 
 
 Significance of exotic music — Classification; Aztecs and Peruvians — The 
 Orient: China and Hindustan, the Mohammedans — Exotic instruments — 
 Music as religious rite; music and dancing — ^Music and customs; Orient and 
 Occident. 
 
 No history of music can pretend to completeness that 
 does not give some account of the various musical sys- 
 tems that have developed before or outside of the influ- 
 ence of European civilization, though in truth music, 
 in comparison with the other arts in Europe, has as- 
 similated astonishingly little from the peoples of the 
 Orient or from ancient civilization, for European music 
 is based essentially upon harmony, and harmony, tak- 
 ing the word in its accepted meaning, was unknown to 
 ancient nations, and is unknown to-day in countries of 
 the Orient. We must admit that tricks of rhythm and 
 melody came from the Orient into Spain at the time of 
 the Moorish Conquest, were even brought back to 
 Europe by the Crusaders returning from their distant 
 wanderings. Furthermore the lute and perhaps the 
 violin, both of which have held an important place in 
 the development of European music, came from 
 Arabia. But that the technique or structure of our mu- 
 sic has been considerably influenced by the music of 
 other races is quite out of the question. On the other 
 hand, composers have, from time to time, enlivened 
 their music by touches of Oriental color. They have 
 experimented with Oriental melody and rhythm, they 
 
 * Musical development of civilized races removed from European in- 
 fluence. 
 
 42 
 
AZTECS AND PERUVIANS 
 
 have sometimes used strange instruments foreign to 
 Europe. We may cite, for instance, Goldmark's Sa- 
 kuntala Overture; Bizet's Les Pecheurs de Perles; 
 Felicien David's symphonic ode, Le Desert; Rimsky- 
 Korsakov's glowing Oriental Scheherezade; Bala- 
 kirev's Islamey, etc. These experiments cannot but 
 call our attention to those elaborate exotic systems of 
 music which were flourishing in India, in China, in 
 Japan, in Siam and Java, in Arabia and Persia cen- 
 turies before the age of Bach and Handel. "While 
 Europe was still slowly emerging from the barbarism 
 of the Middle Ages music had reached a high state of 
 development in these countries. Strange instruments 
 of many kinds were in use; there was an art of compo- 
 sition, frequently some form of notation; there was a 
 musical profession and 'much discussion of musical 
 acoustics and aesthetics,' An authority * on musical 
 ethnology says of the Arabs: 'At this day, when the 
 decadence of the Arab civilization has been entirely 
 consummated it still retains enough traces of its former 
 splendor to enable us to claim without fear that at tlje 
 time of its greatest florescence it was certainly as rich, 
 probably even richer, than European art at the same 
 epoch.' 
 
 As a foundation for all understanding and estima- 
 tion of the so-called exotic systems of music we must 
 bear in mind that beneath the diff'erences from our own 
 music in scale structure often as a matter of practice 
 more apparent than real, in lack of harmony and in 
 predominance of rhythm, lies the fundamental differ- 
 ence that music has never been cultivated for itself 
 alone in China, in Hindustan, or among ancient nations 
 
 * Julien Tiersot: Notes d'ethnograpbie musicale (premlire series), 
 Farls, 1905. 
 
 43 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 to anything like the same extent as in the Occident. 
 Though in the Mohammedan Orient, at the height of the 
 Saracen civilization, it was highly esteemed as a social 
 diversion, in general it figures, not as an independent 
 art, but rather as an auxiliary one. This, of course, ap^ 
 plies to art-music, not to popular or folk song, of which, 
 just as in other lands, there is a rich literature in the 
 East. On the rivers of China, in the bazaars of Hindoo 
 cities, under the Bedouin tent-roof, the people sing their 
 songs. But the art of music was developed by these 
 peoples only in connection with dancing, sacred or 
 secular, with ceremonial functions, plays or panto- 
 mimes. If this fact be borne in mind, it is perhaps 
 easier to comprehend an art so strikingly different from 
 our own. 
 
 Exotic music, or, broadly speaking, the music of the 
 semi-civilized races, may be considered under four 
 heads; that of the Aztecs and Peruvians (nations whpse 
 civilizations, though they have been destroyed, are of 
 too recent date to be classed with those of the ancients, 
 yet the scant musical record of which should not be 
 overlooked) ; the music of India; the music of the Chi- 
 nese, Japanese, and Indo-Chinese peoples, including the 
 Siamese, Javese, Cambodians, Annamites; and the 
 music of the Mohammedan Orient. 
 
 There is but little known of the music of the Aztecs 
 or Peruvians. The fact that the Aztec language was 
 sweet and harmonious to the ear and had no sharp or 
 nasal sounds justified the fondness with which both 
 lyric and dramatic poetry were cultivated in ancient 
 Mexico. But the music of the Aztecs seems to have been 
 unworthy of so cultivated a peoplp. It was the only 
 art that remained in its infancy among them. Still, the 
 mention of ballads $ung by the people, court-odes and 
 the chants of temple chqirs, show that they must have 
 cultivated a form of vocal music distinctly above that 
 of drums and liorns,' pipes arid whistles. Moreover, 
 
 :44 
 
THE ORIENT 
 
 music played an important part in connection with re- 
 ligious and secular dancing, as it did also in India. It 
 has been conjectured that the Aztec tonal system re- 
 sembled that of the Arabs. Their songs generally began 
 with deep sounds, rising in pitch and accelerating with 
 the increase of pleasurable emotion on the part of the 
 singer. De Soils speaks of the funeral processions in 
 which the bodies of the dead were brought to the tem- 
 ples to be received by the priests swinging their censers 
 of burning copal 'to the hoarse sound of dissonant 
 flutes and singing various hymns in a melancholy 
 mode.' 
 
 Among the Peruvians the beautiful Quichua dialect, 
 like the melodious language of the Aztecs, encouraged 
 the haravecs or poets to compose the verses which were 
 sung at religious festivals and at the table of the Inca. 
 And, as in Mexico, music was intimately associated with 
 religious dancing and ceremony. It played its part in 
 the elaborate ritual of the Incas' sun worship. How- 
 ever, little information is available concerning the de- 
 velopment of the Inca music or that of the Aztecs before 
 the Conquest. The Quichua and Aimara Indians of 
 the present day are still passionately fond of music, 
 singing and dancing to the accompaniment of the 
 quena (Peruvian flute) and guitar; and phrases of the 
 traditional minstrelsy of the Inca haravecs may 'have 
 been borne down the tide of rustic melody to these 
 later generations.' Their songs are in the ancient five- 
 tone scale known as the pentatonic, which they have 
 probably inherited from their proud ancestors, to- 
 gether with a fondness for triple rhythm, sole traces of 
 the music of that brilliant state which sank before the 
 power of Spain. 
 
 Concerning the music of China, of Hindustan, and of 
 the Mohammedan Orient we have definite information. 
 The people of these countries have not been, like the 
 Aztecs of Mexico or the Incas of Peru, either swept 
 
 45 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 from the face of the earth or thrown back into a 
 drowsy barbarism. Their own civilizations live on be- 
 neath a surface decay. They have ideals of tradition, 
 of permanence, of racial habit, quite different from 
 those accepted by our standards of progress and origi- 
 nal development, which have fenced in their music 
 from all Occidental influences. Only a few hardly 
 noticeable variations in instrumentation and choreog- 
 raphy mark the touch of time. Notation, rhythm, and 
 design have remained for ages inunutably the same. 
 It is supposed in China that Ling-Lenu, minister of 
 the Emperor Honang-Ty, chosen to fix the laws of 
 musical sound, retired to a bamboo-grove, near the 
 source of the Yellow River, and there cut twelve bam- 
 boo tubes whose varying lengths yielded the sounds 
 of our present-day chromatic scale. In reality, however, 
 
 the pentatonic scale j^ jjj ^f^ ^ is used. The 
 
 tones b and e (omitted in this scale as we have written 
 it), the fourth and seventh tones in our scale, which are 
 not found in the normal pentatonic scale, are given a 
 special name, pien; and the union of the five tones and 
 the two pien constitute what the Chinese call the 
 'Seven Principles' in music. But the five-tone scale is 
 the one commonly employed in practice and consti- 
 tutes the basis of all music in the Indo-Chinese coun- 
 tries.* In Java, Siam, Burmah, and Cambodia, both 
 five-tone and seven-tone (hepta tonic) scales are in use; 
 
 * What we may call modem Chinese music probably reached China 
 through Bactria, a Greek kingdom, founded by Dlodotus 256 B. C. Jesuit 
 missionaries jumped to the conclusion that the Greeks borrowed the 
 Pythagorean scale from the Chinese, but the 'Chinese' scale did not exist 
 in China until two centuries after its appearance in Greece. Chinese litera- 
 ture on music goes back no farther than the ninth century of the Chris- 
 tian era, to which date may be assigned the Chieh Ku Lu, a treatise on 
 the deerskin drum, introduced into China from Central Asia, and evi- 
 dently of Scythian origin. There are several important works of the six- 
 teenth and seventeenth centuries in which the history and theory of music 
 are fully discussed. 
 
 46 
 
CHINA AND HINDUSTAN 
 
 but the musical system of Japan, which was originally 
 borrowed from China, is built up wholly on a five-tone 
 scale, with the important difference from the Chinese 
 
 that it has a minor third, and not a major : 
 
 This difference gives Japanese music a certain individ- 
 ual character of its own. 
 
 The Hindoos have a system of seven-toned scales dif- 
 ferentiated from each other by variable quarter-tone 
 steps. But the theory of music is developed in India 
 with an over-elaboration of subtleties, as it is in China, 
 and of almost a thousand varieties of scale theoreti- 
 cally possible in the Hindoo system no more than 
 twenty are in actual use. Many of these resemble our 
 own. 
 
 "What may be called Mohammedan music is a com- 
 plex type. It has resulted from the spread of Mo- 
 hammedanism along the Mediterranean coast and 
 Northern Africa, and in Central Africa and Southern 
 Asia. It includes features from many sources — ^Per- 
 sian, Byzantine Greek, Mediaeval Christian, and purely 
 local — and is historically a puzzle. Like the Hindoo 
 scales, the scales which are used in distinctly Moham- 
 medan countries are heptatonic; but the theoretical 
 division of the octave is into seventeen steps (each 
 equal to about one-third of a whole step) instead of 
 the twenty-two srutis of the Hindoos. There are 
 some eighteen of these seven-tone scales in use, vary- 
 ing from each other in the location of their shorter 
 steps. 
 
 The five and seven-tone scales on which these musi- 
 cal systems are based are analogous to our own. It is 
 the manner in which they are employed and modified 
 by other factors that makes their music strikingly dif- 
 ferent from ours. The Chinese, in the first place, have 
 many melodies similar to old Scotch songs, but they are 
 
 47 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 primarily interested, not in the flow of the melody, but 
 in timbre, in the quality and character of sound. 
 Whereas we, as soon as we have defined a sound, pass 
 to the consideration of intonation, duration, etc., the 
 Chinese theoreticians, with rare keenness of perception, 
 have worked out an elaborate division of the quality 
 of sound, according to the phenomena governing its 
 production, classifying it according to eight sound-pro- 
 ducing materials provided by Nature — skin, tone, metal, 
 baked clay, silk, wood, bamboo, and gourd. Harmony 
 means to the Chinese what it meant to the ancient 
 Greeks, a purely aesthetic combination of sound and 
 dance. Duple rhythm predominates. Roth Chinese 
 melodies and the melodies of the Indo-Chinese are con- 
 tinuous, admitting neither interruption nor repetition. 
 The refrain is very rare, and occurs only in popular 
 songs. Noisy, shrill, and harsh effects abound, disa- 
 greeable to our ears. Rerlioz said: 'The Chinese sing 
 like dogs howling, like a cat screeching when it has 
 swallowed a toad.' Hut Rerlioz could not listen with 
 an understanding ear. No more can we. Such whole- 
 sale condemnation must be tempered with respect be- 
 fore the feeling of the illustrious Chinese musician, 
 Konai, who said, 'When I strike the sonorous stones, 
 either softly or with force, savage beasts leap up with 
 joy and concord reigns between high dignitaries.' 
 
 In ancient China music was a privileged amusement 
 of the higher classes, and it has always been under im- 
 perial supervision. With the passing of the centuries 
 it has been largely turned over to the vulgar, in street 
 and theatre; and the ancient rules governing its pro- 
 duction and performance (there are sixty volumes of 
 classic works alone on the subject) have fallen into 
 disuse. A letter notation is still employed. 
 
 The music of Indo-China hardly differs in essentials 
 from that of China, and presents much the same pe- 
 culiarity in comparison with our own. On the other 
 
 48 
 
THE MOHAMMEDANS 
 
 hand, the music of India is qUite distinct, and presents 
 only a few surface similarities to the Mongolian. Hin- 
 doo music, according to Captain Day,* has lost the prim- 
 itive purity of Aryan times. The theoretical division of 
 the octave into twenty-two quarter-tones, recorded in 
 Sanscrit books, finds no practical application in mod- 
 ern usage. As in Chinese music, harmony is non- 
 existent; for Hindoo music is purely melodic, and the 
 Vina, the seven-stringed lute used as an accompanying 
 instrument, merely doubles the voice part. But Hindoo 
 music is built, as we have said, upon a system of seven- 
 tone or heptatonic scales which offers far greater op- 
 portunity for effect than the pentatonic system of the 
 Chinese. It has, moreover, infinitely more rhythmic 
 variety and its rhythms are triple rather than duple, 
 as is the case with the Chinese. They are capricious 
 and elastic (this due, in part no doubt, to Mohammedan 
 influences), and are usually strongly marked. One of 
 the most characteristic features in Hindoo music, which 
 has no counterpart in Chinese, is the Raga,^ or tradi- 
 tional type-melody to which texts of varying character 
 are sung. Some of the ragas are especially consecrated 
 to gods and heroes. In general Hindoo airs are marked 
 by long melodic passages, often of no definite design. 
 There are three general divisions: gana (vocal music), 
 vadya (instrumental music) , and nytria (dance music) . 
 The Hindoos divide all instruments into four classes: 
 quite unlike the Chinese classification : stringed instru- 
 ments; those with membranes sounded by percussion; 
 those struck in pairs; and those which sound when 
 blown. A Sanscrit notation (characters for notes and 
 signs or words for other details) indicates pitch and 
 duration. 
 
 * C. R. Day : 'The Music and Musical Instruments of Southern India 
 and tiie Deccan,' London, 1891. 
 
 t The music of a raga, which is very popular in Central India, is given 
 in Tiersot, tfotes d'ethnograpMe musicale, Plate 10. 
 
 49 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Music in Mohammedan countries has peculiarities 
 which differentiate it quite distinctly from music in 
 China and in India. In India music has always been 
 largely associated with religion, especially in connec- 
 tion with the dance. Mohammedanism has never en- 
 couraged religious music. It is true that the chanting 
 of the muezzin calls the faithful to prayer from the 
 minarets; but except this the music which accom- 
 panies the dances of the whirling dervishes of Cairo, 
 Bagdad, and Constantinople offers practically the only 
 example of Mohammedan religious music* Neverthe- 
 less in the brilliant days of the Abbaside caliphs and 
 the Moorish kings of Spain music was a passion with 
 the Saracens. Haroun-al-Raschid lavished rewards of 
 gold and lands on his musicians and the 'Thousand 
 and One Nights' proves in what esteem music was held 
 throughout the Mohammedan Orient at the time of the 
 Caliphate. There was a rich and elaborate musical 
 literature, but the decadence of the Arab civilization 
 brought with it entire oblivion of the many treatises 
 and writings of these glorious days. The old science is 
 forgotten, just as in China the musical wisdom of an- 
 cient times has fallen into neglect. Yet throughout the 
 wide territories in which Mohammedanism established 
 itself, that peculiar and distinctive type which more 
 than any other represents Oriental music to us, a type 
 resulting from a mixture of Persian and Arabian styles, 
 complicated with Christian and other influences, has 
 been traditionally handed down to the present day. As 
 in the other systems we have discussed, harmony is 
 practically non-existent. The scales are seven-toned 
 and there are some eighteen theoretical modes. Both 
 duple and triple rhythms are employed with greatest 
 variety. In fact, one of the most striking characteris- 
 
 * This finds a curious parallel in the music of the dance of the sets 
 In the Cathedral of Seville — almost the only example of religious dancing 
 In Christianity. 
 
 50 
 
EXOTIC INSTRUMENTS 
 
 tics of Mohammedan musical art is the variety and 
 complexity of its sharp rhythms. The melodies are 
 excessively adorned with every sort of flourish and 
 ornament, slides, turns, grace-notes, shakes, and ara- 
 besques of every description not pleasing to our ears. 
 Popular songs and professional musicians are to be 
 found throughout all the Mohammedau Orient. The 
 love song in particular is held in high esteem in all 
 Mohammedan countries, and the following example 
 may illustrate its charm: 
 
 Allegro 
 
 Villoteau mentions his regret at not having been able 
 to note down 'the accent of yielding abandonment with 
 which the singers express the voluptuous melancholy 
 which fills the majority of these songs.' Some of the 
 present-day Persian love-songs are said to be sung to 
 poems of Haflz. The occupational popular song is 
 also found everywhere. In general, the standpoint 
 taken by the Arab proverb, 'Who does not hunt, does 
 not love, is not moved by the sound of music nor rap- 
 tured by the fragrance of blossoms is no man,' is that 
 of the Mohanunedan Orient as regards the art of 
 sound. 
 
 Though, strange to say, Arab music at the time of its 
 greatest florescence possessed no system of notation, 
 an elementary alphabetical notation has since been in- 
 vented and is now in use. 
 
 In the main, the differences between Oriental music 
 and our own may be summed up in the words of 
 Saint-Saens: 'Oriental musical art is another art. The 
 musical art of antiquity is founded on the combination 
 of melody and rhythm. To these our art adds a third 
 
 51 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 element— harmony.' - And, however much they differ 
 from our own, it should always be borne in mind that 
 'the subtly ingenious mathematical subdivisions of the 
 Persians and Arabs, the excessive modal elaboration of 
 the Hindoos, the narrow and constrained stiffness of 
 the Chinese, the ambiguous elasticity of the Japanese, 
 and the truly marvellous artificiality of the Javese and 
 Siamese systems are all the products of human artistic 
 ingenuity working instinctively for artistic ends.' 
 
 II 
 
 An account of the uses of such music and the role it 
 plays in customs far different from our own calls for 
 some description of the instruments employed. Every 
 nation had its own peculiar instruments. Those of per- 
 cussion seem to us particularly characteristic. Such 
 Oriental coloration as has been applied to our modern 
 music has been usually in the way of rhythm empha- 
 sized by strange instruments of percussion. Drums, 
 tam-tams, gongs, etc., do not fail to suggest at once the 
 spirit of barbarous or outlandish peoples. The Peru- 
 vians and Aztecs had a variety of drums. The Aztecs 
 used the huehuetl and the teponastle; the one, a drum 
 struck by the fingers, a wooden cylinder three feet 
 high, with a deer-skin head which could be loosened 
 or tightened at will; the other a hollow closed cylinder 
 of wood, having two longitudinal parallel slits close 
 together, the strip of wood between which was struck 
 with two drumsticks whose ends were covered with 
 rubber. This instrument is still used by the Mexican 
 Indians. It sounds a melancholy note, and one audible 
 at a great distance. The Aztecs also used an enormous 
 rattle, the axacaxtli, in place of castanets. It was a 
 gourd pierced with holes and filled with small stones. 
 
 The most characteristic Chinese instrument of per- 
 cussion is the king, a set of graduated plates, stones, 
 
 52 
 
EXOTIC INSTRUMENTS 
 
 or bells, hung in a frame and played with a mallet. 
 The tone produced is smooth and sonorous. In addi- 
 tion, the Chinese, Japanese, and Indo-Chinese have a 
 quantity of metal gongs and cymbals, bells, tambou- 
 rines, castanets, and drums of all kinds. In Siam and 
 Burmah there is the ranat, a set of wooden or metal 
 bars played with a mallet, in reality a xylophone; and 
 in Java the anklong, of the same family, the bars of 
 which are of bamboo. The Hindoos and Mohammedan 
 Orientals also have a great number of drums, tam-tams, 
 gongs, etc., which is not surprising in view of the pre- 
 dominant part rhythm was given in their music. 
 
 The stringed instruments are not less numerous. 
 They appear to have been unknown to the Aztecs, and 
 the Peruvians used only the tinya, a guitar with six 
 strings. But the Chinese had a great number of them, 
 among which the kin, a small lute with seven strings, 
 held a peculiar place. It was long an object of venera- 
 tion. Sages alone might venture to touch its strings; 
 ordinary mortals should be content merely to regard it 
 in silence with the most profound respect. An elab- 
 orate psaltery or zither called che, with twenty-five 
 strings, was much in use, and there were several bowed 
 instruments in the viol family, of uncertain ancient 
 descent. The Cambodians, too, have instruments of 
 the viol family, notably the tro-khmer, a three-stringed 
 viol held like the 'cello when played. The Siamese, 
 Coreans, and Annamites all use instruments of the 
 guitar and mandolin family with a varying number of 
 strings. In Burmah the favorite instrument is a queer 
 harp with thirteen strings called the soung. In Japan 
 there are the koto, which is a pleasing-toned zither with 
 thirteen strings; the samisen, a small guitar associated 
 with the Geisha girls, the huva, a type of lute, and the 
 kokin, a primitive violin. One finds in India the sarin- 
 das or sarungis, viols with sympathetic wire strings; 
 the vina, most generally popular of Hindoo stringed 
 
 53 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 instruments, a sort of lute with two gourd resonators; 
 and the tambura, a long slender guitar with three or 
 more strings. But of all the stringed instruments of 
 the Orient el'ud of Arabia is most famous. It is no 
 other in name or fact than the lute, with broad, pear- 
 shaped body, short neck bent back at the head, and four 
 or more strings. Introduced by the Moors into Spain 
 about 800 A. D., it became the favorite instrument of 
 all Europe, was developed and improved with every 
 care, was beautified with finest art and workmanship. 
 From Arabia, too, may have come to Europe the first 
 primitive violins. The Arabian rebab and the Persian 
 kemangeh are almost identical in principle with our 
 violin. The Arabian santirs and kanoons, zithers with 
 many strings, played with plectra adjusted like thim- 
 bles on the finger-tips, have remained Oriental. 
 
 Wind instruments are conunon to all races. Flutes 
 and fifes were known both to the Aztecs and Peruvians, 
 and flutes, flageolets, oboes, horns, bagpipes, and 
 trumpets are in constant use among the others. With 
 the Aztecs conch-shells took the place of trumpets of 
 metal. Deserving of special mention are the Chinese 
 cheng, a set of small bamboo pipes with free reeds, 
 precursor of the modern organ; the Hindoo tubri, 
 a popular form of bagpipe used by the snake charmers 
 of India; and the Arab zamr, a particularly shrill vari- 
 ety of oboe. 
 
 Thus we find in use among ancient semi-civilized 
 peoples and among the Oriental races of the past and 
 present the three great families of musical instruments; 
 instruments of percussion, string instruments, and wind 
 instruments, from which we have chosen and devel- 
 oped our orchestra. We are recalled to the remark of 
 Saint-Saens, already quoted, that all the musical sys- 
 tems of these peoples were products of human artistic 
 ingenuity, working instinctively for artistic ends. The 
 instinct for expression in music works so far in all 
 
 54 
 
MUSIC AND DANCING 
 
 races alike. But whereas those races whose music we 
 are discussing were content with the harsh or dry 
 sounds of the primitive instrimients we have men- 
 tioned, the races of Europe have been impelled by the 
 desire for ever richer and more flexible tone to develop 
 and improve these instruments. Of the clumsy, hoarse 
 viol they have made the perfect violin; of the hunting 
 horn the mellow French horn of the orchestra; of the 
 tremulous clavichord and spinet the powerful piano- 
 forte. Music has become an art of sound. Those peo- 
 ple whom, for the sake of convenience, we group to- 
 gether in this chapter as exotic never dissociated music 
 from the dance or from elaborate ceremonies of one 
 sort or another. The art of music hardly attained in- 
 dependence. Therefore we are almost at a loss to ap- 
 preciate it outside the highly ceremonious societies in 
 which it played its part and a discussion of some of 
 the uses to which it was put is necessary in our chapter. 
 
 Ill 
 
 With the exception of the Mohammedans, the first 
 and foremost use of music among the exotic races has 
 been in religious rites of one sort or another. And in 
 this connection it is in most cases an accompaniment 
 to religious dancing and pantomime. Music is rarely 
 looked upon in the Orient as a means of social diver- 
 sion or artistic enjoyment in itself alone, such as we 
 consider music of the orchestra or the string quartet. 
 Only in the form of poetic song or of orchestral ac- 
 companiment to the religious or secular ballet is it 
 highly appreciated. 
 
 The hymns chanted in a sing-song manner, the mo- 
 notonous tunes accompanying the temple services and 
 sacred dances of the ancient Mexicans would, no 
 doubt, prove intolerably wearisome to our ears, but 
 the Aztecs took such pleasure in them that they often 
 
 55 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 sang during entire days. And, quite in the eighteenth 
 century manner, the wealthy Aztec nobles maintained 
 choirs of singers and bands of professional musicians. 
 At the great Sun-feast of the ancient Peruvians, 'the 
 long revelry of the day was closed at night by music 
 and dancing.' Some sort of song flourished among 
 this people. There was a class of minstrels. Aside 
 from the traditional melodies which have already been 
 mentioned, the music of some of the distinctively Inca 
 (not Spanish) dances, the huaino, the cachua, the 
 cachaspare, has come down to our own day. 
 
 In China music is for the most part confined to sa- 
 cred ceremonies and dancing. Pere Amoit, a French 
 missionary who spent some time in China in the sec- 
 ond half of the eighteenth century, wrote down the fol- 
 lowing celebrated chorus; a hymn in honor of the 
 ancestors, sung in the emperor's presence to the ac- 
 companiment of sacred dances, and the typical Chinese 
 orchestra : 
 
 Very slowly 
 
 Part One 
 
 See hoang sieu Tsou Yo Ung yu Tieo Yuen yen tsmg beou. Yeou kao tay hiuen 
 ) o p.. 1 1° ..p.. Ho.. II p.. I 
 
 HjuOD SUA cheoo mmg, Tohoiu yuen la sien Ming yu che tsouug, Y.ouansee iuea. 
 Part Two 
 
 Tom yne tch^ tsiog Yen jan jou cheng, Kj k) tchao ming. Kau ko tsai ting; 
 
 Jou k]on ki faing. Jou ouen ki cheug, Ngai eulb king tcbe. Fa hou tchoung tsmg 
 Part Three 
 
 Yuen cheon sang koue. Tu paoki te, HaoTienouangki Yu tarn aanluen,I>uosm yne y. 
 
 At private and ceremonial banquets, also, dancing to 
 orchestral accompaniment is usual. Solo, in the prov- 
 
 56 
 
MUSIC AND DANCING 
 
 ince of Yunnan, the most southwestern division of 
 China, supplies the musicians and dancers for the 
 private orchestras and entertainments of mandarins 
 throughout the Celestial empire. Then, too, the Chi- 
 nese orchestra finds a place in theatrical representa- 
 tions. The songs to be heard in every Chinese city at 
 eventide to the crude accompaniment of mandolins 
 and guitars may attest a popular fondness for music, 
 but the gongs continually sounding in the temples and 
 innumerable tinkling bells upon the towers and pago- 
 das can hardly be said to constitute music. 
 
 In Siam, Burmah, Cambodia, and Java the arts of 
 music and dancing have always been held in high 
 esteem. In Java the native dances are marked by grav- 
 ity and harmony of movement. The average ambulant 
 band in that country consists of six players, while the 
 gamelags of native sovereigns like the sultan of 
 Djokka or the emperor of Solo usually comprise a 
 dozen. The Siamese have ballet performances of pos- 
 turing and slow, deliberate dancing, most of which are 
 pantomime plays with orchestral accompaniment, the 
 story chanted by a kind of Greek chorus behind the 
 scenes. The king of Cambodia maintains a large 
 troupe of dancers, chosen among the most beautiful 
 women in his realm, who preserve the tradition of the 
 ancient dances of the land. The following air is a 
 prelude to one of these Cambodian dances, sung by a 
 female chorus with orchestral accompaniment: 
 
 Cambodian Dance 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 In both these countries, as in Annam and Burmah, it 
 is not the orchestra that leads the dancers, but the 
 dancers who are followed by the orchestra. And in 
 nearly all cases these pantomimes are of an allegorical 
 or mythological character. Similar performances, 
 notably 'devil dances,' are given in lamaseries of Tibet, 
 Mongolia, and Siberia in which the Buddhist monks, 
 in costume and mask, represent gods, devils, mytho- 
 logical kings, and other traditional characters. 
 
 The airs of the sampan-men of the Hue River in 
 Annam are often beautiful. In alternation with their 
 wives they sing simple ballads full of poetry and grace 
 as they float down stream at night. Peculiar are the 
 orchestras of the blind, made up of poor families, some 
 one member of which is sightless, who sing love-songs 
 before the village tea-houses for a pittance. 
 
 In Japan the 'geishas' perform their poetic dances, 
 'The Leaf of Gold,' 'The Butterfly Dance,' to the sound 
 of a vague, discreetly agreeable accompaniment. The 
 
 The Butterfly Dance 
 
 Quite rapidly and lighUv 
 > > >■ :> 
 
 Ai rtfrrr f^tfrrr fr£rf.,a'f.tfrrrrr^. rrrr ^ 
 
 «r CTesGedaccei. ^^J^ 
 
 Tempo prime , 
 
 |^jjjjjj??i,jjj, iMiiiM-|ii|-| lj nri^j iimi^j 
 
 j ' JJ^J^PP;^ i'irrr'i|iii;i[^Jrr i 
 
 58 
 
Old Japanese Print: 'Girl of the Old Kingdom Playing the Harp' 
 
MUSIC AND CUSTOMS 
 
 geishas' music is that of the plucked string, and is gen- 
 erally vague in form. The koto and the samisen are 
 the representative instruments, though sometimes the 
 musicians sing a few measures. Harmony in our sense 
 of the word is entirely lacking. In the Buddhist tem- 
 ples the entire service is intoned on one note, but the 
 priests sing successively at a different pitch, and the 
 chanting is punctuated by the occasional clang of cym- 
 bals and the deep, rich tones of the great gong, a 
 strange and impressive combination. At the time of 
 the various Japanese flower festivals, those of the aza- 
 leas, of the flowering plum and cherry, when the coun- 
 try is glad with pink and white blossoms, roving bands 
 of musicians and dancers in grotesque costume add to 
 the gaiety of the occasion. 
 
 In Hindustan dance music (vocal and instrumental 
 combined) plays an important part in the religious cere- 
 monies of the temples, both in the voluptuous dances 
 of the devadhazis, or bayaderes,* and in the chanting 
 of the montranis, scriptural formulas set to a fixed 
 musical rhythm. The size of a Hindoo orchestra varies, 
 and the dance-music it plays is not always of a sensu- 
 ous, erotic type, but often very animated and vigorous 
 in character, such as accompanies the dancing at the 
 courts of the rajahs. Music frequently accompanies 
 dramatic representations as well, and there is a great 
 deal of popular song. The Hindoos have dhourpad and 
 kourka, warlike hymns, hoti, canticles in honor of 
 Krishna, stouti, official odes, bichnoupoud, evening 
 songs, kheal. love songs, sohla, nuptial songs, thoum- 
 ries, patriotic songs, palma, cradle songs, and darda, 
 love songs. In many cases Hindoo music shows signs 
 of Mohammedan influence, especially in the variety 
 and liveliness of its rhythm. It is curious to note that 
 
 ♦ In the 'dance of Krishna,' a three-day religious saturnalia in honor 
 of the youthful god, and in the obscene rites of Kali, the blade goddess, 
 the devadhazis portray all the phases of physical passion. 
 
 59 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the use of certain types accompanying instruments is 
 restricted to certain social classes, priests, mendicant 
 holy men, dancing girls, and so forth, 
 
 Mohammedan music is associated with a wide variety 
 of voluptuous secular dances, for the Mohammedan 
 Orient possesses an art of dance equal to the most deli- 
 cate inspirations of our poets. There is the dance of 
 the Ouled Nail, the famous dancing girls of Biskra, the 
 Tunisian 'Dance of the Hair,' * the Algerian 'Dance of 
 the Pitchers,' the dances of the Egyptian Ghaouazi or 
 'Almees,' exponents of what is known to us as the 
 danse du ventre, of which one of the dance airs fol- 
 lows: 
 
 Ghaouazi Dance 
 
 In a rather rapid tempo 
 
 if" ' ^' ^li ' ' "' jj h I ^ 1' ^.n i i r rr rr I 
 
 There are the dances of Syrian, Soudanese and other 
 dancing-girls. Then there are the special dances, ac- 
 companied by choral singing and instrumental music, 
 that celebrate the nuptial ceremony throughout the 
 Orient. 
 
 IV 
 
 The variety of customs, of traditional observances 
 and usages interwoven with exotic music is endless. 
 Many religious chants, for instance, are fixed by tra- 
 dition, and are undoubtedly of high antiquity. Such 
 
 * 'A number of young girls slowly and gracefully sway and twist their 
 lithe bodies in rhythm to the music of flageolets playing in minor mode. 
 Most of. the time they dance on their knees, bending and twisting, their 
 hair sometimes standing out almost straight, then falling about their heads.' 
 
 60 
 
ORIENT AND OCCIDENT 
 
 is the chanting of the sacred books in the Temple of 
 the Sacred Tooth in Ceylon, where on each night of 
 the full moon the whole text of the 'Tripitakas,' or 
 'Three Baskets' of wisdom, is recited by relays of yel- 
 low-robed priests, succeeding each other every two 
 hours between the dark and the dawn. They are said 
 to chant in deep resonant voices, as steady and con- 
 tinuous as the roar of the stirf, without break, quaver, 
 or pause. When we consider that Buddhist priests 
 have repeated these sacred texts in this manner on 
 every night of the full moon for twenty-eight centuries, 
 the traditional cantillation of the Koran appears a 
 thing of recent date. The following interesting 'call to 
 prayer' of the muezzin has been traditionally handed 
 down, and its chant is supposed to antedate the era 
 of Mohammed: 
 
 (Doxlan Mode) 
 
 eU AI-Uu 
 
 And the Hindoo ragas and mantranis offer further 
 proof of the conserving examples of tradition. 
 
 A curious custom among the Chinese of immemorial 
 antiquity is that of attaching whistles weighing only 
 a few grams to the tails of pigeons soon after they 
 emerge from the shell, by means of fine copper wire. 
 The whistles are of two kinds; bamboo, with from two 
 to five tubes, or gourds, with sometimes as many as 
 twenty-five apertures. All the whistles in a flock are 
 tuned to a different pitch. As they fly about Pekin and 
 
 61 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 other cities they fill the air with a sort of wind-blown 
 music. It is interesting as a commentary on the Chi- 
 nese national love of sweet sounds. 
 
 A custom of the Mohammedan Orient is the use of 
 the flute in services for the dead. Modern Arab mor- 
 tuary hymns are sung to the accompaniment of the 
 flute, and the employment of the instrument in this 
 connection dates back to ancient times. It is customary 
 in almost every occupation in the Orient to sing tradi- 
 tional songs while work is going on. The Arab camel- 
 drivers have a melody of strange intonations and long- 
 drawn-out sounds which may have come down from 
 the days of Antar; the boatmen on the Nile, the fel- 
 lahin toiling on its banks, the ambulant peddlers of 
 Oriental cities, all have their traditional airs or cries. 
 Some are very poetic; the water carriers of Mecca sing 
 when they dispense their wares: 'Paradise and for- 
 giveness be the lot of him who gave you this water!' 
 When, in June, Arab boys offer bunches of fragrant 
 pink jasmine buds, enclosed in flg-leaves, for sale in 
 the streets of Kairowan, those who buy return to their 
 work chanting in a quaint minor key: 'We render 
 thanks to Allah for sending rain to make the flowers 
 bloom.' The Burmese love to thresh rice to the sound 
 of music, and the Buddhist nuns in Japan solicit contri- 
 butions by striking small metal gongs attached to their 
 belt with little wooden hammers carried in their hands. 
 The Hindoo palanquin-bearers, the Japanese rickshaw- 
 men, the Chinese coolies and sampan-men, all have 
 their characteristic songs, most of them traditional, for 
 the East is slow to change. 
 
 The art of music in the Orient and the art of music 
 in Western Europe have little in common. It may be 
 that Christian music in the first few centuries of its 
 
 62 
 
ORIENT AND OCCIDENT 
 
 existence was vaguely similar to that music we have 
 been discussing, but after harmony found its place in 
 our music a comparison between the two arts is far 
 to seek. In Oriental music the dominant feature is 
 rhythm, insistent and often unvaried. This may be 
 partly because rhythm is the most exciting element in 
 music and the most immediate in its appeal, partly be- 
 cause in the Orient music was and is almost never dis- 
 sociated from the dance or from some sort of regular 
 movement such as rowing or reaping. In our music 
 rhythm is constantly varied and subtly disguised. As 
 for melody, the Orientals are bound to short phrases 
 repeated again and again, lacking contrast and only 
 primitively balanced; and most of their melodies are in 
 scales different from ours. Of harmony they have rela- 
 tively no idea, whereas the music of Western Europe 
 has been subjected to the tremendously powerful in- 
 fluence of harmony in one form or another for nearly a 
 thousand years. Hence, even though the rhythm and 
 melody in both have come from the same instinct in the 
 race of man, the "Western and the Eastern arts of music 
 seem almost radically different. 
 
 In general the difference between the two is only 
 exaggerated by the few cases in modern music when 
 composers have made use of Oriental themes or 
 rhythms or instruments. Such cases by no means show 
 a working together or an approach of the two systems; 
 for the mere fact that a certain twist of melody, a cer- 
 tain insistence of rhythm, a beat of the tam-tam or the 
 gong can give a strong Oriental color to music proves 
 how foreign Oriental music still sounds to our ears. It 
 may be said that European music has been influenced 
 by Asiatic music hardly at all, unless, possibly, the 
 prominent, almost barbaric rhythms of some Russian 
 music have sprung from a mixture of the Oriental with 
 the Slav. F. H. M. 
 
 63 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE MOST ANCIENT CIVILIZED NATIONS 
 
 Conjecture and authority — ^The Assyrians and Babylonians; instruments; 
 scales — ^The Hebrews — The Egyptians; social aspects; Plato's testimony; in- 
 struments — ^Egyptian influence on Greek culture and its musical significance. 
 
 The researches and discoveries of the past fifty years 
 in the valley of the Nile and among the deeply buried 
 ruins of Babylon and Nineveh have thrown light on 
 much that was hitherto obscure in the history of the 
 ancient cultured nations of the East. Yet, even to-day, 
 our knowledge of that history is at best fragmentary 
 and largely conjectural. Out of the mass of fragments 
 and conjectures at our command we can pick very 
 little that will fit into the structure of an authoritative 
 musical history. 
 
 We know definitely that the Assyrians, Babylonians, 
 Egyptians, and Hebrews possessed in their heyday an 
 advanced civilization and a large amount of aesthetic 
 culture. From analogy with other old civilizations of 
 which we have more accurate knowledge, however, we 
 have no reason to suppose that their musical culture 
 kept pace with their advance in other arts. From the 
 plastic to the pictorial and last to the musical seems 
 to have been the historical order of advance in the 
 evolution of artistic expression. Music, to quote John 
 Addington Syrflonds, 'is the essentially modern art.' 
 Nevertheless, even in default of any more specific evi- 
 dence, we could safely assume that musical culture 
 among the ancient civilized nations had advanced con- 
 siderably beyond the stage reached by primitive peo- 
 ples. 
 
 64 
 
ASSYRIANS AND BABYLONIANS 
 
 In support of this assumption we have an amount of 
 definite evidence; which indeed goes very little beyond 
 a corroboration of our beliefs. In the case of the As- 
 syrians and Egyptians this testimony consists of bas- 
 reliefs and mural paintings representing musical in- 
 struments, and a few actual instruments which have 
 been discovered in the ruins of Nineveh and in the 
 tombs of Egyptian kings. These sculptures show a 
 wide variety of instruments, the general construction 
 of which would indicate considerable musical knowl- 
 edge, and they testify clearly that among the Assyrians 
 and Egyptians music was an indispensable adjunct to 
 all affairs of ceremony, and consequently, in all likeli- 
 hood, a subject for serious cultivation. 
 
 The Assyrian bas-reliefs represent chiefly historical 
 events, religious ceremonies, and royal entertainments. 
 We have no means of knowing whether the musical 
 instruments shown thereon were the only ones in use 
 among the Assyrians, or whether there were not other 
 instruments in widely popular use which the priestly 
 conventions excluded from all ceremonial observances. 
 The instruments represented, however, are numerous 
 and interesting. Judged by the frequency of its ap- 
 pearance on the monuments, the favorite instrument of 
 the Assyrians seems to have been the asor, which con- 
 sisted of a square or triangular frame mounted with 
 six to ten strings of silk or catgut and was played with 
 a plectrum. It was carried in front of the performer by 
 means of a strap slung over his shoulder, and both 
 hands were used in playing it — the right with the plec- 
 trum and the left either to twang the strings or to stop 
 any unnecessary vibration. The number of strings on 
 this or on any other Assyrian instrument can only be 
 conjectured. Apparently the artist was never at pains 
 
 65 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 to secure fidelity of detail, for sometimes there are 
 more strings than tuning-pegs and sometimes the re- 
 verse. 
 
 After the asor the harp seems to have come next in 
 popular estimation. The Assyrian harp was an impos- 
 ing instrument, about four feet high, and was carried in 
 ceremonial processions before the breast of the per- 
 former, much as a side-drum is carried in a military 
 band. It was furnished with tuning-pegs and with 
 about twenty strings, probably of silk, but possibly of 
 catgut. The most essential point of differentiation be- 
 tween the Assyrian harp and the modern instrument 
 was the lack of a front pillar. This would argue a 
 rather weak and harsh tone; though if the frame were 
 made of metal or ivory — as in the case of the later 
 Egyptian harps — ^it would allow of sufficient tension 
 to secure a tone not necessarily very inferior to that 
 of our own harp. 
 
 Besides the asor and the harp the representations of 
 Assyrian stringed instruments included the lyre, dulci- 
 mer, and tamboura or lute. The Assyrian lyre strongly 
 resembled the Nubian kissar of to-day. It carried from 
 four to ten strings tied around the upper bar, which 
 was raised or lowered to change the pitch, and it was 
 probably played with a plectrum. The tamboura was 
 an instrument resembling the banjo or guitar and was 
 the prototype of the instrument which may be found all 
 over the East at the present day. The dulcimer con- 
 tained about ten strings and was played with a plec- 
 trum. 
 
 Of wind instruments the Assyrians possessed only 
 pipes and trumpets. Their trumpet was a small instru- 
 ment, either straight or slightly curved, and was prob- 
 ably made of horn. Presumably it suffered from se- 
 vere limitations musically. The nature of their pipes, 
 however, indicates that the Assyrians had done some 
 successful experimenting in musical effects and must 
 
 66 
 
ASSYRIANS AND BABYLONIANS 
 
 have constructed a definite scale system of some sort. 
 In the museum of the Royal Asiatic Society in London 
 there is a small Assyrian pipe of baked clay in a very 
 good state of preservation. It is about three inches long 
 and has two holes equally distant from the end. The 
 fixed notes on this pipe are a tonic, third, and fifth. 
 The closing of the left finger-hole produces a note about 
 a quarter tone lower than the right, and it is possible 
 that this was intended for a minor third. Of a later 
 development than the single pipe was the double pipe, 
 which consisted of two pipes, sometimes of equal, 
 sometimes of unequal length, held one in each hand, 
 with the playing ends of both in the mouth. Probably 
 one of the pipes gave a sort of droning accompaniment 
 to the other and the general effect must have been 
 something like that of the bagpipe. The syrinx, or 
 pipes of Pan, was doubtless known to the Assyrians as 
 well as to the Hebrews, and may be the instrument 
 whose invention is ascribed to Jubal in Genesis. 
 
 The Assyrians seem to have been well provided with 
 instruments of percussion, including tambourines and 
 cymbals. Their drums were usually covered only at 
 one end, but they also had barrel-shaped drums cov- 
 ered at both ends and beaten at both ends like a tom- 
 tom. All their drums, apparently, were beaten with 
 the hands. Bells were presumably in high favor among 
 them, as we learn from the Bible, and there have been 
 discovered a number of Assyrian bells of various sizes, 
 all open at the top, like Chinese bells, and indicating 
 that the first use of chimes antedates by a long time 
 their introduction into India and China. 
 
 The habit peculiar to ancient artists of depicting the 
 part for the whole, or two to mean many, makes it 
 impossible for us to determine from the reliefs whether 
 the Assyrians used regularly any definite number of 
 musical instruments in their performances. We know, 
 however, that they employed various combinations of 
 
 67 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 instruments. On the Assyrian bas-reliefs in the British 
 Museum (some of which are fragments) we find such 
 combinations as harp and drum; lyre, harp and double 
 pipe; two asors and drum; three lyres; two trumpets; 
 seven harps, one dulcimer; two double pipes, a drum 
 and chorus. The predominance of strings over instru- 
 ments of percussion in all representations of Assyrian 
 concerts prompts the supposition that the music was of 
 a soft, suave character. Rhythm seems to have been 
 marked chiefly by the clapping of hands, and musical 
 performances were probably accompanied usually, if 
 not always, by singing and dancing. The evidence of 
 the bas-reliefs on this point is supplemented by the 
 Bible accounts of ceremonial observances among the 
 Hebrews, who must have been profoundly influenced 
 by Babylonian culture. Dancing was undoubtedly an 
 integral part of all ceremonial observances and tri- 
 umphal processions among the ancient nations of the 
 East, and it would seem that as a rule it was accom- 
 panied by vocal as well as instrumental music. The 
 Bible is replete with illuminative references on the 
 subject. 
 
 On the Assyrian bas-relief above mentioned, showing 
 the instrumental band and chorus, the women of the 
 chorus are represented with their hands to their throats 
 and are evidently performing that peculiar shrilling 
 which constitutes the Hebrew Allelujah, and which 
 may still be heard in Syria, Arabia, and Persia. This 
 strange style of singing — ^if it may be so called — was a 
 feature of triumphal processions, and was always per- 
 formed by women. Various references to this custom 
 may be found in the Bible — ^for instance, David's re- 
 ception by the women after his victory over the Phil- 
 istines and Jephthah's reception by his daughter and 
 her companions after the battle against the children of 
 Ammon. "We can only guess as to the nature of the 
 choral singing at Assyrian religious festivals. Prob- 
 
ASSYRIANS AND BABYLONIANS 
 
 ably it was in unison or octaves, and it may have been 
 antiphonal, as it was among the Hebrews.* 
 
 The constant employment of chorus with well- 
 developed musical instruments of different tone quality 
 would seem to have suggested to the Assyrians at least 
 some elementary harmonic effects. But that is entirely 
 a matter of conjecture. As far as we know, they did 
 not possess any system of musical notation, and, lack- 
 ing that, they could not have developed an harmonic 
 system that was anything but very crude or very hap- 
 hazard. It is the opinion of Engel f that they 'produced 
 together different notes which appeared to them agree- 
 able in concord,' but that their instruments were too in- 
 complete for a systematic combination of a fixed num- 
 ber of different parts. A scale system of some sort they 
 must have had, but what it was we are at a loss to de- 
 termine. Engel, pointing out the analogies between 
 the various old musical systems of Oriental countries, 
 concludes that the Assyrians probably used a penta- 
 tonic series consisting of the tonic, second, third, fifth, 
 and sixth. Such a scale is found in China, Japan, India, 
 Burmah, Siam, and Java, and is supposedly of high an- 
 tiquity in those countries. The deduction that it was 
 also used by the Assyrians is based on the assumption, 
 which Engel supports by much plausible evidence, that 
 there was a common fountain-head of all Asiatic musi- 
 cal art. It is also pointed out as a significant fact that 
 the Nubian kissar, which so closely resembles the As- 
 syrian lyre, is tuned in that scale. On the other hand, 
 from the construction of the Assyrian instruments, and 
 from comparison with the music of other peoples, even 
 those in a more primitive state of musical development, 
 it may be inferred that the Assyrians were acquainted 
 with other effects and may have used other scales. 
 
 * ABtiphonal is here used in the sense that one part of the chorus 
 answered the other. 
 
 t Carl Engel : 'Music of the Most Ancient Nations." 
 
 69 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 II 
 
 The decree which forbade the Hebrews the making 
 of graven images, salutary as it may have been as a 
 theological safeguard, must always prove a source of 
 regret to the archaeologist and historian. Because of it 
 we cannot now visually reconstruct the life of the 
 chosen people in Biblical times with the same satisfac- 
 tory vividness as we can that of the Assyrians and 
 Egyptians. We are thus deprived of what has been 
 our chief source of information in considering the 
 state of musical culture among the other civilized na- 
 tions of the ancient East. A few illustrations of what 
 may have been Hebrew musical instruments have, it is 
 true, come down to us; but they are very doubtful and 
 far from enlightening. There is an Egyptian painting 
 of the time of Osirtasen II (about 1800 B. C), discov- 
 ered in a tomb at Beni-Hassan, which shows three men 
 — obviously captives — ^playing on lyres. The hiero- 
 glyphics refer to these men as 'strangers,' and it is the 
 opinion of Sir Gardner Wilkinson that they were Jews, 
 We also possess some coins of the time of Simon Mac- 
 cabaeus (second century B. C), on some of which are 
 pictured lyres of different shapes and sizes, while on 
 others are shown a couple of small figures which may 
 represent trumpets or drums. Possibly the musical 
 instruments carved on the Arch of Titus were exact 
 copies of Hebrew originals, but, for all we know to the 
 contrary, the sculptor of the arch may never even havp 
 seen a Hebrew instrument. Apart from these scanty 
 and problematical remains, pictorial evidence of the 
 musical culture of the ancient Hebrews is, as far as we 
 know, non-existent. 
 
 The documentary evidence in our possession is fuller 
 but not at all definite. It consists chiefly of the Bible 
 and the rabbinical records; and upon the accuracy of 
 
 70 
 
THE HEBREWS 
 
 the information obtainable from these sources we can- 
 not implicitly rely. This statement is made in due 
 reverence and without any suggested denial of the spir- 
 itual truths embodied in writings which millions of 
 men regard as sacred. The peculiar flgurativeness 
 which lends such charm to the language of the Bible 
 makes it impossible for us to be quite sure of its literal 
 meaning, and this obscurity is intensified by the fact 
 that the identification of many names of things in the 
 original text has been the purest guesswork on the 
 part of translators. The identification of the names of 
 musical instruments, especially, has been a stumbling 
 block to scholars. For instance, it has never been de- 
 termined which of the many names of stringed instru- 
 ments occurring in the Bible refers to the harp — an 
 instrument which was undoubtedly known to the an- 
 cient Hebrews. On the other hand, the ugab, men- 
 tioned in Genesis as the invention of Jubal, has invari- 
 ably been translated organ — an instrument which just 
 as certainly was not known to them. Nor are the rab- 
 binical records any more trustworthy. On many points 
 they contradict the Bible — ^which raises an indetermi- 
 nable question of veracity between them — ^while on 
 other points their statements are irresistibly provoca- 
 tive of doubt in the mind of the judicious reader. It 
 must always be remembered that the Bible and the 
 rabbinical records are, in the main, history written by 
 unscientific historians concerning the past of their own 
 race, and the tendency in such cases to drape an at- 
 tractive garb of fiction over the bare bones of fact has 
 in all ages been an ineradicable trait of human psy- 
 chology. The old historians, while in a preferential po- 
 sition compared with us in regard to time, suffered ob- 
 viously either from lack of knowledge or superfluity of 
 imagination. Josephus, the most authoritative of them, 
 tells us seriously that there were prepared for the dedi- 
 cation of the Temple a band and chorus consisting of 
 
 71 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 200,000 trumpets, 40,000 stringed instruments, and 
 200,000 Levite singers — truly a Brobdignagian en- 
 semble ! 
 
 In spite of the paucity of our information, however, 
 we are able to form a general idea of the state of musi- 
 cal culture among the ancient Hebrews. Except for 
 inevitable local differences, Hebrew music must have 
 resembled closely that of the Assyrians and Egyptians 
 — probably more the former than the latter, if indeed 
 there was any radical dissimilarity between them. The 
 Hebrew and Assyro-Babylonian people sprang from 
 the same Semitic stock. Abraham, we learn, 'came out 
 of Ur of the Chaldees,' and up to the time of the exile 
 to Egypt it is probable that Hebrew and Babylonian 
 culture were almost identical. The long sojourn of the 
 Jews in Egypt, however, must have had a profound 
 influence upon them. It is important to remember that 
 they were not really captives in Egypt; they were not 
 restricted in their activities; they were not socially 
 ostracised. The daughter of a Pharaoh married a 
 Hebrew, and it is reasonable to suppose that such inter- 
 marriage was common. At the period of the Exodus, 
 therefore, there must have been little to distinguish the 
 culture of the Hebrews from that of the other people of 
 Egypt. Moses, we know, 'was learned in the wisdom 
 of the Egyptians,' and in that respect he probably 
 differed little from his followers. Later we shall 
 advert to the complementary influence of Hebrew 
 culture on the Egyptians as well as to the probability of 
 Babylonian influence on the latter. Consequently the 
 culture which the Jews brought out of Egypt must still 
 have remained Babylonian in essence. Subsequently 
 we see a renascence of Babylonian influence which 
 becomes particularly noticeable after the captivity in 
 Babylon. All the names of musical instruments given 
 in Daniel are Chaldean. Max Miiller observes that 
 several of the apocryphal books were written originally 
 
 72 
 
THE HEBREWS 
 
 in Chaldee, not in Hebrew, and points out that Ezra 
 contains fragments of Chaldee contemporaneous with 
 the cuneiform inscriptions of Darius and Xerxes. 
 
 The rabbinical records mention thirty-six musical 
 instruments in use among the ancient Hebrews, while 
 the Bible contains references to about half that num- 
 ber. As has been said, the names of these instruments 
 have never been exactly identified and it is possible 
 that several diiferent names may refer to the same in- 
 strument. The Hebrews almost certainly possessed the 
 harp, though we do not know what they called it. The 
 psanterin, mentioned in Daniel, was perhaps a dulci- 
 mer. The Arab dulcimer of the present day is called 
 santir. We may assume from the representation of the 
 lyre on the coins of the high-priest Simon Maccabseus 
 that the Hebrews employed that instrument, and it 
 may have been the kinnor of King David. The minnim, 
 machalath, and nebel were perhaps instruments of the 
 guitar or lute type. The chalil and nekeb were names 
 of pipes or flutes, while the mishrokitha, mentioned in 
 Daniel, is supposed to have been a double pipe. It is 
 likely that the ugab, which is translated as 'organ' in 
 the English authorized version of the Bible, was the 
 syrinx or Pandean pipes. Forkel and other historians 
 are of the opinion that the sumphonia, mentioned in 
 Daniel, was a bagpipe, basing their conclusion appa- 
 rently on the fact that the Italian peasants call the bag- 
 pipe zampogna. The magrepha was probably also a 
 sort of bagpipe. Three kinds of trumpets were used by 
 the ancient Hebrews — the keven, shophar, and chatzo- 
 zerah. The last-named was a straight trumpet, about 
 two feet long, and was sometimes made of silver; the 
 others were curved trumpets probably made of horn. 
 The shophar is still found in Jewish synagogues. Pre- 
 sumably the Hebrews used a number of drums. Of 
 these we know only the toph. which has been trans- 
 lated timbrel or tabret, and was probably a sort of 
 
 73 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 tambourine. There still exists in the East a sm^ll 
 hand-drum, called by the Arabs doff or adufe. Accord- 
 ing to Saalschiitz and other historians, the menaaneim, 
 referred to in Samuel, and translated cymbals, was the 
 sistrum.* The tzeltzelim, metzilloth, and metzilthaim 
 may have been cymbals. The phaamon (Exod. xxxviii 
 and xxxix) were little beUs on the robe of a priest, and 
 we still find them in Jewish synagogues attached to the 
 'rolls of law' containing the Pentateuch. 
 
 There is abundance of evidence that music played a 
 very important part in the lives of the ancient Hebrews 
 and that musical performances were carefully, often 
 elaborately, organized. As with other ancient nations 
 of the East, the most important function of music was 
 to lend solemnity and effect to religious ceremonial. 
 King David, who seems to have filled in the develop- 
 ment of Hebrew liturgical music the same role tradi- 
 tionally ascribed to St. Gregory in the history of the 
 Christian liturgy, employed in the service of the Temple 
 no fewer than 4,000 musicians, of whom two hundred 
 and eighty-eight were virtuosi, and the remainder as- 
 sistants and pupils (1 Chron. xxiii and xxv). In the 
 introduction to the Psautier polyglotte of L'Abbe 
 Vigouroux, the following historical sketch is given of 
 the musical organization of the ancient Jewish cult: f 
 'When David ascended the throne he organized sacred 
 music which comprised instrumentalists and singers; 
 and the institution expressly maintained by Ezekiah 
 and Nehemiah continued until the ruin of the Temple. 
 In a first group there were three choir leaders : Hamon 
 Asaph, and Ethan; in a second, fourteen Levites dis- 
 tributed in three choirs according to the instruments 
 they played — the first comprising three chiefs who had 
 cymbals to direct the singers and instrumentalists, the 
 
 * A sort of rattle. 
 
 t Translated from <t summary by Jules Gombarieu in his Histotre de. 
 la musiqae. Vol. V, Chap. XTV. 
 
 74 
 
THE HEBREWS 
 
 second composed of eight musicians who played the 
 nebel, and the third composed of musicians who played 
 the kinnor. Later Daniel completed this work. Among 
 the descendants of Levi four thousand were chosen "to 
 praise God with instruments of music." The singers, 
 like the priests, were divided into twenty-four classes, 
 the chiefs of which were the sons of Asaph (four), 
 Jeduthun (six), and Hamon (fourteen). These chiefs 
 have under their orders two hundred and eighty-eight 
 masters charged with instructing the others. This 
 musical organization, established by David and con- 
 served by Solomon, was altered more or less under 
 their idolatrous successors; but the reformer kings, 
 Ezekiah and Josiah, took pains to revive it. In the fifth 
 century, under Nehemiah, they sang and played 'in the 
 manner of David.' * 
 
 Apart from its importance in religious service, music 
 had a deep significance in the lives of the ancient He- 
 brews. They attributed to it peculiar curative and 
 inspirational powers. We know how David used it to 
 relieve the illness of Saul, and even Elias employed it 
 to stimulate the spirit of prophecy. It was the accom- 
 paniment of all important occasions, both sad and joy- 
 ful. There is frequent mention in the Bible of tri- 
 umphal songs and of the use of trumpets in war. 
 Bridal processions were accompanied by music (Jer. 
 vii), and it also seems to have been commonly 
 employed at funerals (2 Chron. xxxv et ah). Love 
 songs were not unknown to the Hebrews (Isaiah v; 
 Psahn xiv), nor were they lacking in songs of a con- 
 vivial and lightly popular nature. They welcomed 
 itinerant musicians as warmly as the courts of Eiu-ope 
 in the chivalric period welcomed the Troubadours. 
 Indeed, from what we know of them, they seem to have 
 been an intensely music-loving people, and this fact 
 
 * Concerning the Influence of the temple and synagogue on the litur- 
 gical music of the early Christian church, see Chapter V, p. 157 ff. 
 
 75 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 can but add to our regret that we are unable to deter- 
 mine the exact nature of their music or what the pro- 
 portions were to which they had developed it as an art. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Regarding Egyptian music, the evidence at our dis- 
 posal is fuller and more suggestive, though the deduc- 
 tions to be drawn from it are hardly less conjectural. 
 It consists mainly of monumental sculptures, mural 
 paintings, and fragments and nearly preserved speci- 
 mens of actual instruments. There are also many fugi- 
 tive references to Egjrptian music in the works of 
 Herodotus, Plato, Diodorus, Siculus, Strabo, and other 
 Greek writers. Between the earliest representations of 
 Egyptian musical instruments and the visits to Egypt 
 of Herodotus and Plato stretches a period of nearly 
 two thousand years — time enough for such a complete 
 revolution to have taken place as to render valueless 
 the references of the Greek writers as throwing light 
 on Egyptian musical culture at the noontide of Egypt's 
 greatness. Yet such a revolution almost certainly did 
 not take place. During two thousand years, as we may 
 see from the monuments, Egyptian art stood practically 
 still. 
 
 The system of hereditary castes was an impermeable 
 barrier to the advance of culture. Caste conventions 
 were elevated to the dignity of sacred laws and innova- 
 tions were regarded almost as sacrilege. Herodotus, 
 who lived in Egypt, tells us that the musical profession 
 was strictly hereditary and had been so for uncounted 
 centuries. No one, for instance, who was not of a fam- 
 ily of professional singers, he asserts, could adopt the 
 profession of a singer. Considering the rarity of good 
 voices, even where such restrictions do not exist, one 
 can easily imagine that vocal performances in Egypt 
 were not stimulating. Nor could Egyptian music be 
 
 76 
 
THE EGYPTIANS 
 
 very rich in inspiration, if we are to accept the follow- 
 ing admiring tribute of Plato, who had lived thirteen 
 years in Egypt, and who, like other Greek philosophers, 
 was himself a musical scholar. 
 
 'The plan which we have been laying down for the 
 education of youth,' he says in one of his dialogues,* 
 Vas known long ago to the Egyptians, that nothing but 
 beautiful forms and fine music should be permitted to 
 enter into the assemblies of young people. Having 
 settled what those forms and what that music should 
 be, they exhibited them in their temples; nor was it 
 allowable for painters and other imitative artists to 
 innovate or invent any forms different from what were 
 established. Nor is it now lawful, either in painting, 
 statuary, or any of the branches of music, to make any 
 alteration. Upon examining, therefore, you will find 
 that the pictures and statues made two thousand years 
 ago are in no one particular better than what they make 
 at the present day.' 
 
 As further evidence of the unchanging antiquity of 
 Egyptian music Plato quotes the tradition that 'the 
 music which has been so long preserved was composed 
 by Isis.' The fact that, as Strabo says, music, both vocal 
 and instrumental, was an integral part of the ritual in 
 the worship of all the gods, except Osiris, tended to 
 conserve still more strictly that rigidity of system to 
 which Plato so admiringly refers. The priestly caste 
 in Egypt was the perfect embodiment of petrified con- 
 servatism and its influence was all-pervading and ab- 
 solute. Egyptian music must eventually have come to 
 be a lifeless, colorless, meaningless thing — the dry and 
 chalky skeleton of an art — and we are not surprised to 
 learn from Diodorus (60 B. C.) that the Egjrptians of 
 his time despised it and looked upon its cultivation as 
 an effeminate and undesirable occupation. 
 
 Comparative studies of Egyptian and Assyrian cul- 
 
 •O-aws,' Book U. 
 
 77 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 ture lead George Rawlinson * to the conclusion that the 
 former has been vastly overrated. While Assyrian art 
 flourished apace, he asserts, art in Egypt remained a 
 stunted growth. The inference that musical art among 
 the Egyptians lagged behind that of the Assyrians is not 
 borne out by the evidence of the monuments and mural 
 paintings. From these we may see that Egyptian musi- 
 cal instruments were much superior in design and con- 
 struction to those pictured on the Assyrian bas-reliefs. 
 This, of course, may be explained by the superior me- 
 chanical talent of the Egyptians, which is apparent in 
 their architecture, and cannot be taken as conclusive 
 evidence of a higher aesthetic development. The whole 
 question of the comparative culture of Egypt and As- 
 syria is a very doubtful one. Whether Egypt was in- 
 fluenced by Assyrian culture or the reverse, and to what 
 extent, is a moot point. There are evidences of similar 
 influences in the art of both countries. The fact seems 
 to be that Egypt and Assyria interacted on each other 
 closely and borrowed from each other or from a com- 
 mon soiu'ce. Their musical instruments show striking 
 resemblances and seem to have been used in much the 
 same way and in connection with similar ceremonies. 
 
 There are, however, important points of divergence. 
 The asor, which was apparently the favorite instrument 
 of the Assyrians, is not found represented on any Egyp- 
 tian monuments that have come down to us. In its 
 stead the harp obviously held the place of honor. The 
 Egyptian harp was much superior to the Assyrian in- 
 strument, both in design and construction; indeed, 
 except for the lack of a front pillar, pedals, and double 
 strings, it must have been little inferior to our own 
 harp, even in musical quality, while in beauty of design 
 it could hold its own with the best we are able to show. 
 This is all the more remarkable in view of the fact that 
 it was brought to perfection at least three thousand 
 
 * 'The Five Great Monarchies of the Ancient World.' (1862-67.) 
 
 78 
 
THE EGYPTIANS 
 
 years ago. The two ornate and beautifully modelled 
 harps found by the English traveller Bruce, painted 
 in fresco on the walls of the Tomb of the Kings at 
 Thebes, are attributed to the period of Rameses II 
 (about 1250 B. G.) and, whatever they may have been 
 musically, they are perfect models of grace and finished 
 workmanship. Most of the harps on the Egyptian 
 monuments are highly ornamented and were obviously 
 constructed with an eye to decorative effect. The harp 
 seems to have been the instrument de luxe in Egypt — 
 the necessary finishing touch to the furniture of every 
 well-appointed home — the Egyptian counterpart of our 
 piano. It varied in size to suit the taste, or perhaps the 
 pocket-book, of its owner. The largest harps were al- 
 most as tall as a man and were equipped with twenty 
 or more strings, the smallest ones had four strings and 
 were easily carried about. In regard to the nmnber of 
 strings, however, the fidelity to numerical truth of the 
 ancient artists cannot unquestionably be assumed. It is 
 the opinion of Garl Engel that the Egyptian harp was 
 tuned in the same diatonic series of intervals as the 
 Greeks obtained by two conjunct tetrachords. He bases 
 his opinion on the apparent number of strings. Prob- 
 ably it was tuned in a diatonic series of some sort; but 
 opinions on the subject are the purest guesswork. 
 
 A favorite instrument among the Egyptians was the 
 trigonon or triangular harp — ^referred to as a Phrygian 
 instrument by Sophocles. It was small and easily car- 
 ried, and its tone must have approximated somewhat 
 that of the lyre. The latter instrument is represented 
 frequently on Egyptian monuments and apparently 
 varied very much in size and shape. It seems to have 
 been much more powerful than the Greek lyre, but was 
 not so symmetrical in design. Several well-preserved 
 specimens of Egyptian lyres may be seen in the mu- 
 seums of Berlin and Leyden, One end of the top bar 
 is higher than the other, and the instrument obviously 
 
 79 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 was tuned by sliding the strings up and down the bar. 
 On the whole, the Egyptian lyre must have been a 
 somewhat crude and ungainly instrument. It does not 
 seem to have been nearly so esteemed as the harp, nor 
 did it apparently hold the same place in popular regard 
 as the tamboura or nofre. The latter is found repre- 
 sented in various shapes, and it seems likely that it 
 was, above all others, the instrument of the people. 
 Instruments closely resembling it are popular in many 
 Oriental countries to the present day. These usually 
 contain three strings, which are tuned in the tonic, fifth, 
 and octave. It would be assuming too much to declare 
 that the Egyptian nofre was similarly tuned. There is 
 in the British Museum a small Egyptian terra-cotta vase 
 upon which is depicted a tamboura with frets distinctly 
 marked over the whole neck, and we may reasonably 
 argue from this that the nofre players used habitually 
 a number of strictly defined intervals. Besides the 
 long-necked nofre the Egj^tians possessed a short- 
 necked tamboura strongly resembling the Arabian oud. 
 They had also a peculiar instrument with four or five 
 strings, which was carried on the shoulder; a kind of 
 lyre which was placed on a stand and played by both 
 hands, and a primitive variety of harmonicon. 
 
 By far the most interesting and instructive relics of 
 Egyptian musical instruments that have come down to 
 us are a number of pipes and flutes, many well-pre- 
 served specimens of which may be seen in the British 
 and Leyden museums. They contain from three to five 
 — usually four — Wholes, and in many of them pieces of 
 thick straw or other similar material are found in- 
 serted in the playing ends. There does not appear to 
 have been any restriction as to the number of holes. 
 In the British Museum there is an Egyptian pipe about 
 twelve inches long, with seven holes burned in the 
 sides. Two straws of about the same length as the 
 pipe were found with it. Straw reeds have also been 
 
 80 
 
THE EGYPTIANS 
 
 found with Egyptian flutes. The latter were very long 
 instruments, reaching from the player's mouth to be- 
 yond the length of his arm. The most interesting and 
 perfectly preserved specimens of those that have yet 
 come to light are a pair of reed flutes, eighteen inches 
 long and three-sixteenths of an inch in diameter, which 
 were discovered by the distinguished Egyptologist Flin- 
 ders Petrie in a rock-hewn sepulchre at Kahan — 
 the town inhabited by workers employed in building 
 the pyramid of Userteen II. On these flutes were elici- 
 ted the following notes: 
 
 TliTee holes 
 
 The testing of facsimiles produced between the flutes 
 the following scale: 
 
 By varying the pressure, a fifth and an octave higher 
 were obtained, and by the same means was elicited 
 from the three-holed flute the complete diatonic scale 
 of C. Allowance must, of coiu-se, be made for the pos- 
 sible differences between the facsimiles of these old 
 flutes and the original instruments, as they were in the 
 time of Userteen II. There is also to be considered a 
 probably wide divergence in method between modern 
 European and ancient Egyptian flute players. The 
 experiinents, however, suggest interesting speculations. 
 
 The double-pipes are represented frequently on Egyp- 
 tian monuments; the trumpet less frequently. Trum- 
 pets apparently were not very popular in Egypt. They 
 seem to have been made of wood — though brass may 
 have been used. The scarcity of trumpets is peculiar, 
 because the Egyptians obviously did not affect a soft, 
 suave style of music, as the Assyrians did. Some of 
 
 81 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 their dances look almost riotous, and they must have 
 had a strong sense of rhythm They had a partiality 
 for drums, of which they possessed a variety. Resides 
 drums, their instruments of percussion included sis- 
 tra, crotola, bells, cymbals, and tambourines. The 
 sistrum or seshesh was a peculiar instrument, almost 
 identical with the sarasel used to-day by the priests 
 of a Christian sect in Abyssinia, and seems to have been 
 employed exclusively in religious ceremonies. The 
 crotola were two balls or knobs of wood or metal, with 
 handles, and were used apparently in the same way 
 and with the same effect as castanets. 
 
 The representations of Egyptian musical perform- 
 ances furnish a wide and fascinating field for specula- 
 tion; but beyond the testimony that music played 
 a very important part in the lives of the Egyp- 
 tians they supply us with little definite informa- 
 tion. The contention of Rawlinson that the As- 
 syrians were more advanced aesthetically is sup- 
 ported to some extent by the apparent fondness of 
 the Egyptians for barbaric rhythmical effects. The 
 same line of reasoning, however, would place the music 
 of Wagner and Strauss lower in the scale of evolution 
 than that of Mendelssohn and John Field. Between 
 the Assyrians and the Egyptians a difference in musical 
 taste is obvious; a difference in musical development 
 is decidedly questionable. There are always to be taken 
 into consideration dissimilarities in national character. 
 It is the opinion of some ethnologists that, about 5000 
 B. C, there came into the valley of the Nile a Semitic 
 people from East Africa or South Arabia who mingled 
 with the aboriginal Hamites and produced the historic 
 Egyptians. These immigrants, it is contended, had 
 been under the influence of the culture which had al- 
 ready grown up on the plains of Babylonia, and intro- 
 duced into Egypt elements of art which were unknown 
 to the ruder Hamitic stock. These elements the 
 
 82 
 
Procession of Egy;^ian Musicians 
 
 From a temple and a hypogeum at Gourat^and Karnak (Thebes) 
 
EGYPTIAN INSTRUMENTS 
 
 Egyptians may have developed to greater perfection in 
 certain technical aspects than the Babylonians, owing 
 partly to their superior industry and partly to the fact 
 that, in comparison with the Assyrio-Babylonian peo- 
 ple, their history was peaceful, and favorable to the 
 development of the arts and crafts. 
 
 This theory would explain the appearance of a com- 
 mon source of the art of both nations. It is probable, 
 too, that Babylonian culture exercised a continuous, 
 though perhaps slight, influence throughout the whole 
 course of Egyptian history. That there was close inter- 
 course between the two nations at various times is evi- 
 dent from many known facts in the history of both. 
 Syria, which was saturated with Babylonian culture, 
 was an Egyptian province; nor can the possibility be 
 overlooked that the Hebrews, during their long sojourn 
 in Egypt, brought to Egyptian art some of the influence 
 of a culture that had its genesis in Babylonia. These 
 speculations are given here because there is a general 
 tendency to assume readily that Egypt was predomi- 
 nantly the influential factor in the growth of ancient 
 culture, and because the representations of Egyptian 
 and Assyrian musical performances show similarities 
 which indicate that either may have strongly influenced 
 the other. 
 
 Herodotus tells us of an Egyptian musical perform- 
 ance at which women beat on drums and men played 
 on flutes, while a chorus sang and clapped their hands 
 at the same time. This performance, it seems, was 
 typical. The suggested effect is barbaric; but the mon- 
 uments bear evidence that the Egyptians enjoyed musi- 
 cal performances of a much more refined character. 
 We find represented, for example, such combinations 
 as harp, two tambouras and double-pipe, and lyre, 
 harp, double-pipe and chorus. In an interesting work 
 on Egyptian antiquities edited by Lepsius * there is an 
 
 * Denkmaler aus Xggpten und Ethiopten. 
 
 83 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 illustration of an extraordinary concert of eight flutes. 
 The players are divided into two sets. One man, dif- 
 ferently dressed from the others, stands facing the 
 group, and holds his flute as if he had either just fin- 
 ished playing or was just about to begin. Presumably 
 he was either the conductor or a solo player. The 
 illustration is taken from a tomb in the Pyramid of 
 Gizeh and dates from the Fifth Dynasty, or before 2000 
 B. C. The Egyptians, obviously, adapted their music 
 to the occasion, using different combinations of instru- 
 ments for religious ceremonies, public celebrations, 
 private entertainments, and military parades. There 
 has been preserved on an imperfect fragment a repre- 
 sentation of a military band consisting of a trumpet, a 
 drum, some large instrument which is too much oblit- 
 erated to be distinguished, and two crotola. 
 
 Dancing, an important feature of Egyptian life, 
 formed a part both of ceremonial observances and pri- 
 vate entertainments. The Egyptians seem to have devel- 
 oped dancing into a much more sophisticated art than 
 the Assyrians, and, unlike the latter, they showed a 
 partiality for dances of a lively, spirited nature. These 
 were usually performed by men, who, to judge from the 
 monuments, were equipped with all the semi-acrobatic 
 technique of the modern ballet-dancer — even to the 
 pirouette. The slower dances were rendered by women 
 and were, as a rule, languorous and erotic in character. 
 
 Much has been said of the influence of Egyptian 
 music on the Greeks, and more than due importance, 
 perhaps, has been attached to the supposition , that 
 Pythagoras (571-497 B. C.) learned music in Egypt. A 
 posteriori inferences have been drawn as to the nature 
 of Egyptian music which are hardly warranted by the 
 evidence. Greek literature is not lacking in references 
 to Egyptian influence. 'The Greeks,' says Burney," 
 *who lost no merit by neglecting to claim it, confess 
 
 * Chas, Bumey: 'History of Music' 
 
 84 
 
EGYPTIAN INFLUENCE ON GREECE 
 
 that most of their ancient musical instruments were of 
 Egyptian invention.' Greek notions of the origin of 
 their ancient musical instruments, however, cannot be 
 taken very seriously. The evidence inherent in the 
 instruments themselves is more valuable and tends 
 rather to contradict the supposition that they were of 
 Egyptian origin. The beautifully proportioned and 
 graceful Greek lyre is so markedly different from the 
 clumsy and crude Egyptian instrument as to suggest 
 an absolutely independent development. Significant, 
 too, is the absence of the harp from all except one of 
 the specimens of Greek art that have come down to 
 us; though the beauty and grace of the Egyptian harp 
 must have appealed strongly to Greek artists had they 
 been at all familiar with it. The one exception is the 
 representation of Polyphymnia with a harp, on a Greek 
 vase in the Berlin Museum, and the harp in this case 
 resembles more the Assyrian than the Egyptian instru- 
 ment. It may be pointed out, however, that this vase 
 belongs to the later period of Greek art, after the con- 
 quest of the Persian Empire by Alexander had exposed 
 the classical civilization of Greece to the full force of 
 Oriental influence. But the case for Asiatic influence 
 does not depend upon this vase. There is significance 
 in the fact that most of the famous Greek musicians 
 were from Asia Minor or adjacent islands. Marsyas 
 was a Phrygian; Terpander, Arion, and Sappho hailed 
 from Lesbos; Olympus, the supposed inventor of the 
 old enharmonic scale, was a native of Mysias. Strabo,* 
 too, speaks of the derivation of Greek stringed instru- 
 ments from Asia. On the other hand, we are informed 
 by the ubiquitous and omniscient Herodotus that the 
 Dorians came originally from Egypt. The statements 
 of Herodotus, however, must be taken with a large 
 amount of reservation. 'The net result of Oriental re- 
 search,' Prof. Sayce warns us, 'in its bearing on Her- 
 
 * Book X, Cbap. 3. 
 
 85 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 odotus is to show that the greater part of what he pro- 
 fesses to tell us of the history of Egypt, Babylonia, and 
 Persia is really a collection of Mdrchen, or popular 
 stories, current among the Greek loungers and haK- 
 caste dragomen on the skirts of the Persian empire.' * 
 As a matter of fact, the statements of all Greek his- 
 torians, except as to contemporary events, are totally 
 untrustworthy. Excellent reporters they undoubtedly 
 were; but they lacked the historical sense and were but 
 scantily informed. There seems to have been in Greece 
 a peculiar admiration for things Egyptian and a cor- 
 responding contempt for things Asiatic — the latter bred 
 probably of the constant wars between Hellas and 
 Persia that began with the conquest of the Lydian 
 kingdom by Cyrus the Great. In default, therefore, of 
 any more specific evidence the statements of Greek 
 writers on the origins of Greek music are of little value; 
 nor does the intrinsic evidence lead us to any more 
 definite conclusion than the conjecture that Greek 
 music was influenced somewhat by both Egyptian and 
 Assyrian music, though to what extent and in what 
 proportions it is impossible to determine. 
 
 We are equally ignorant of the nature of the Egyptian 
 musical system. A well-defined system they had, with- 
 out doubt — they systematized everything. The evi- 
 dence seems to point to the fact that they used a dia- 
 tonic scale, and the representations of their musical 
 performances would indicate that they were acquainted 
 with harmonic effects. A concert of eight flutes, for 
 instance, in unison, or even in octaves, without other 
 instruments of any sort to vary the monotony, would 
 hardly have appealed to a taste as cultivated as theirs 
 must have been. Fetis is of the opinion that the Egyp- 
 tians possessed a system of musical notation, and sees 
 in the resemblance to demotic characters of the musical 
 notation used by the modem Greek Church evidence of 
 
 * 'Records of the . Past." 
 
 86 
 
EGYPTIAN INFLUENCE ON GREECE 
 
 the fact that it belonged to ancient Egypt.* The pres- 
 ence of a system of musical notation is no proof of the 
 coincidence of an harmonic system, but it is prima facie 
 evidence of a stage of artistic development which in- 
 cluded a sense of something more than primitive and 
 haphazard concords. Such a stage of development we 
 may probably credit with safety to the ancient Egyp- 
 tians, and, whatever their music may have been, we can 
 surely conclude that it had acquired at least the ele- 
 mentary proportions of an art. 
 
 W. D. D. 
 
 * F. J. F^tis: Biographie univenelle des musiciens et bibliographte 
 ginirale de la musique. 
 
 87 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE MUSIC OF THE ANCIENT GREEKS 
 
 Significance of Greek music — Greek conception of music; mytbical rec- 
 ords — ^Muslc in social life; folk song; general characteristics of Greek 
 music — Systems and scales — ^Pythagoras' theories; later theorists: Aris- 
 toxenus to Ptolemy — Periods of Greek composition; the nomoi; lyricism; 
 choral dancing and choral lyricism; the drama — Greek instruments; notation. 
 
 The importance of the music of the most ancient civ- 
 ilizations and its relevance to the history of music as 
 an art may be questioned with some justification. In- 
 deed, some historians, notably Riemann, in his schol- 
 arly Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, have practically 
 foregone all reference to it. But an account of Greek 
 music has unanimously been held an essential part of 
 the scheme, for it has had an unquestioned influence 
 upon the beginnings of our own art, and though mis- 
 understood for centuries its theoretic system has 
 served as the foundation of mediaeval musical science. 
 
 Moreover, the Greeks, in whose civilization antiquity 
 reached its pinnacle, manifested an attitude toward the 
 art distinctly different from that of the older nations, 
 an aesthetic and humanistic attitude more akin to our 
 own, which enabled them to realize something like the 
 degree of beauty and perfection which they are con- 
 ceded to have attained in the other arts. Therefore, 
 though music is destitute of parallels to our glorious 
 examples of the plastic arts of antiquity, a presentation 
 of the few facts hinting at the true merits of this lost 
 art is distinctly pertinent. 
 
 It is lamentable, indeed, that next to nothing has 
 been preserved to us of Greek music. The few frag- 
 
 88 
 
GREEK CONCEPTION OF MUSIC 
 
 ments which assiduous antiquarians have restored and 
 deciphered are hardly sufficient to suggest its true qual- 
 ity, and even further restorations could do no more 
 than confirm the present evidence, for manuscripts are 
 but the skeleton records — ^the essence has been lost 
 with the lyres and flutes, it has died with the voices of 
 Anacreon and Sappho. 
 
 While we moderns generally deny to music any di- 
 rect correspondence with the realities of life, the Greeks 
 held it to be the most 'imitative' or representative of 
 arts.* Not only states of feeling, but also ethical qual- 
 ities and dispositions of mind were reproduced by 
 musical 'imitation,' and on the close correspondence 
 between the copy and the original depended the impor- 
 tance of music in the formation of character. Aristotle 
 in his 'Politics' says : 'In rhythm and melodies we have 
 the most realistic imitation of anger and mildness, as 
 well as of courage, temperance, and all their opposites.' 
 Here is an important element in the Greek conception 
 of music, radically different from our own. Its im- 
 puted educational value, its influence upon the charac- 
 ter of the youth, and even its therapeutic powers are 
 no less foreign to our modern ideas. 
 
 Plato in his 'Republic' sets down^ the study of music 
 and its regulation as an essential part of the ideal com- 
 monwealth. 'Beginning from early childhood,' he says, 
 'they teach and admonish their sons as long as they 
 live. . . .' 'Again the music masters in the same way 
 pay attention to sobriety of behavior and take care that 
 the boys commit no evil, and when they have learned to 
 play upon the lyre they teach them all the compositions 
 of other good poets, lyric poets, setting them to music, 
 and they compel Modes and Harmony to become fa- 
 miliar to the boys' souls in order that they may become 
 more gentle, and, being themselves more rhythmical 
 and harmonious, they may be serviceable in word and 
 
 * Imitation Imn^ffu) is a term commonly applied to the fine arts. 
 
 89 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 deed; for the whole life of man requires rhythm and 
 harmony.' And elsewhere in the same work: 'But 
 when handsome amusements are appointed them in 
 their infancy, and when by means of music they em- 
 brace that amusement which is according to law (con- 
 trariwise to the others), this music attends them in 
 everything else and grows with them, and raiseth up in 
 the city whatever formerly was fallen down.' 
 
 As illustrative of the moral import of music Plato 
 says: 'Is it indeed then according as I say, that we 
 shall never become musicians, neither we ourselves, nor 
 the guardians we say we are to educate, before we 
 understand the images of temperance, fortitude, lib- 
 erality and magnificence, and the other sister virtues? 
 . . .' Hierocles attests Pythagoras' belief in the thera- 
 peutic powers of music in the following quotation: 
 'He look'd on Musick as a great advantage to Health 
 and made use of it in the diseases of the body as well as 
 of the Soul; for, as Plato said after him. Perfect Musick 
 is a Compound of Voices and of Instrumental Har- 
 mony. The Voice alone is more perfect than instru- 
 ments alone; but it wants one thing to complete its 
 Perfection; and that one thing is Harmony: and Instru- 
 ments alone, without a voice, yield only rambling and 
 extravagant Sounds, which may indeed affect and move 
 the Soul, but cannot instruct nor form the Manners 
 which ought to be the chief end of Musick.' * 
 
 Before considering the probable character and form 
 of ancient Hellenic compositions we must record that 
 music hardly existed among the Greeks as an indepen- 
 dent art. The word /unnruaj held a much broader mean- 
 ing than our own word music; it included poetry, at 
 least in its narrower sense, and in a measure dancing 
 and mimetics. Likewise it was closely allied, through 
 their philosophy, to mathematics and astronomy. But 
 
 * Harmony here does not mean polyphony or heterophony, as will be 
 seen hereafter, 
 
 90 
 
MYTHICAL RECORD 
 
 to say that music was subordinate to poetry is inac- 
 curate, for, while vocal compositions, both solo and 
 choral, made up the bulk of Greek music, instrumental 
 music was practised not only in accompaniment, but 
 independently also, and virtuosity on the kithara and 
 aulos was developed to a considerable degree. The great 
 musicians of Greece, however, were at the same time 
 its great poets. Homer and Hesiod may be thought 
 of as musicians, no less than Pindar, the adored cre- 
 ator of the first dithyramb, and ^Eschylus, the greatest 
 of dramatists. It may be interesting at this point to 
 reproduce the table compiled by Aristides Quintilianus 
 (second century A. D.), one of the most eminent Greek 
 theoreticians of the Roman era, to show the various 
 branches of musical science as then understood. This 
 
 
 A. 
 
 Natural 
 
 "a) Arithmetic (musical 
 mathematics) 
 
 I. Theoretical 
 
 
 Science 
 
 b) Physics (acoustics and 
 physiology of hearing) 
 
 Part 
 
 
 
 "c) Harmonics 
 
 
 B. 
 
 Musical 
 
 d) Rhythmics 
 
 
 
 Technology 
 
 e) Metrical Science (Pros- 
 ody) 
 
 
 r 
 
 
 f) Melodic invention 
 
 II. Practical 
 
 c. 
 
 Composition . 
 
 g) Formation of stanzas 
 h) Poetry 
 
 Part 
 
 
 
 Pj) Instrumental practice 
 
 (Applied Music) 
 
 D. 
 
 Musical 
 Practice 
 
 k) Singing 
 
 
 k. 
 
 
 1) Mimetics 
 
 illustrates clearly the union of poetry and music, the 
 perfect fusion of two arts in which neither predomi- 
 nated, but was only an inherent part of the other, 
 
 91 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 The earliest references to the art, in the works of 
 Homer and Hesiod,* who themselves may be deemed 
 the first poetic singers of record, are clothed in mythi- 
 cal terms, and a brief review of these references may be 
 of interest as reflecting the racial attitude toward music. 
 In Hesiod we read much about the immortal muses, 
 the nine daughters of Zeus (all-father) and Mnemosyne 
 (memory), and of these especially three are of interest 
 to us: Calliope, the muse of epic song; Euterpe, the 
 muse of melody and lyric poetry, and Terpsichore, the 
 muse of choral dance. According to Homer these en- 
 tertained the gods by singing (Iliad, i, 604), while song 
 itself the poet considered a direct gift of the gods. 
 
 The greatest mythical figure of Greek music is Or- 
 pheus, who, like all the early civilizers of Hellas, was 
 a Thracian, a people afterward considered barbarous 
 by the Athenians. Orpheus was said to be the son of 
 the king of Thrace, by the muse Calliope, but another 
 account makes Apollo his father. He was one of the 
 Argonauts, and indeed it was the stirring tones of his 
 lyre as he chanted of adventure on the sea that stirred 
 the good ship Argo to her launching when all the 
 strength of the heroes had failed in the task. On pass- 
 ing the Island of the Sirens the Argonauts owed their 
 safety to Orpheus, for, taking his lyre, he sang so loudly 
 and so sweetly as to overpower the Sirens' melodies, 
 whereby all escaped unscathed save Butes, who plunged 
 overboard only to be snatched up by Aphrodite. Again 
 it was the urging of Orpheus' lyre that gave the strength 
 to the Argonautic rowers to speed between the clashing 
 rocks, the Sympleglades, after the dove had passed 
 through and the rocks had recoiled. The skill with 
 which he plucked the strings moved even the trees and 
 
 * These poet-singers. Indeed, chanted their verses — perhaps not to fixed 
 melodies, but according to a recognized style of cantilatlon which varied 
 according to the different species of poetry, and was emulated by the 
 readers or singers other than the bards themselves. 
 
 92 
 
MYTHICAL RECORD 
 
 rocks, and the wild beasts of the forest surrounded him 
 in delighted transports as he sang. 
 
 The story of Orpheus and his wife, the nymph Euryd- 
 ice, is perhaps the best known of all myths connected 
 with music. Eurydice, it is said, was slain by the bite 
 of a serpent as she was fleeing from the unwelcome love 
 of Aristaeus, son of Apollo. Orpheus determined to 
 descend to the Underworld, and, using the power of 
 melody to soften the hearts of the rulers of that abode' 
 of Darkness and of Death, to regain possession of his 
 beloved. Armed with his lyre, he easily obtained ad- 
 mittance to the realm of Hades, and in course of time 
 made good his entrance to the palace of Pluto. At the 
 music of his lyre the wheel of Ixion stopped, Tantalus 
 forgot the thirst which was his eternal torture, for a 
 moment the vulture ceased his perpetual gnawing at 
 the vitals of Tityus and Pluto, and Proserpina granted 
 the prayer of the impassioned melodist, with one con- 
 dition only: that he should not look back upon his 
 almost-rescued wife before he had reached with her the 
 confines of the land of darkness. Impelled by love and 
 eagerness, Orpheus violated this condition and Euryd- 
 ice vanished evermore from his sight. 
 
 Of the poetical works ascribed to Orpheus, those 
 which remain appear to have been written chiefly by 
 Onamacritus and Cercops, and they illustrate some of 
 the earliest forms of hymns with a musical accompani- 
 ment. Orpheus is also credited with the formulation of 
 an augmentation of the scale, having added two strings 
 to the seven-stringed lyre which Apollo had given him. 
 The legend of Amphion also signifies the peculiar 
 veneration in which music was held by the Greeks. 
 The son of Zeus (or Jupiter) and Antiope, he became 
 king of the Thebans, and Hermes gave him a lyre of 
 gold. By its power alone, the story runs, he built the 
 walls of Thebes, the stones taking their places in obedi- 
 ence to the strains of his instrument. AH of which 
 
 93 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 serves to illustrate the high conception which the 
 Greeks had of the art, how constantly it occupied their 
 thoughts, and what extraordinary powers they ascribed 
 to it. This is further attested by historical evidence 
 showing the place which music occupied in their so- 
 cial system. 
 
 II 
 
 There is little doubt that in the classic period at least 
 music was an essential part of the intellectual equip- 
 ment of every citizen. It assumed a public importance 
 and received an official recognition from the state 
 which no other people has ever accorded to it. Not 
 only did it form an integral part of religious worship, 
 but it occupied an important position in the great na- 
 tional festivals at which the intellectual accomplish- 
 ments no less than the physical prowess of all Greece 
 were matched. 
 
 The Olympic games, beginning with the year 776 
 B. C, and taking place regularly every four years in 
 the plain of Alpheious in EUs (Olympia), are the oldest 
 as well as the most famous of these festivals, and as the 
 most comprehensive national celebrations they as- 
 sumed the greatest importance. All Hellas and the 
 colonies sent spectators and participants in the con- 
 tests. While music no doubt played a great part in 
 the celebration of the victors, in the sacred sacrifice to 
 Zeus, and in the pageants and dances, an actual contest 
 in music or poetry was never incorporated into the 
 Olympic games. But the Pythic games, which took 
 place at Delphi every nine years, and after 586 B. C. in 
 the third year of every Olympiad, were primarily po- 
 etico-musical contests in honor of Apollo. The first 
 day was permanently dedicated to the performance of 
 the famous Nomos Pythicos (of which later) . Both the 
 Isthmian games and the Nemeic games, which took 
 
 94 
 
MUSIC IN SOCIAL LIFE 
 
 place every two years, were likewise closely identified 
 with music. 
 
 But besides these great national festivals, which in 
 all amounted to two or three annually, there were a 
 great number of local celebrations, some of which par- 
 took of an almost national character by virtue of the 
 great influx of foreign visitors. The Eleusinian mys- 
 teries, primarily confined to the initiates, also took on 
 the character of a popular festival by the institution of 
 public contests and pageants, in which, of course, music 
 played a great part. The Athenians' annual Panathe- 
 neas in honor of their patron goddess, their harvest 
 festivals, and their Dionysos festivals; the Spartans' 
 numerous celebrations and a host of others, all of which 
 were dedicated to some phase of culture, will indicate 
 in some measure the tremendous amount of time and 
 attention which the Greeks gave to the cultivation of 
 the representative arts. 
 
 From Polybius, writing in the second century A. D., 
 and taking as his authority Ephorus, writing two hun- 
 dred years earlier, we learn that the Arcadians ordered 
 their State affairs entirely according to music, in such 
 manner that not only boys, but young men up to the 
 age of thirty were obliged to cultivate musical study 
 continually. 'From infancy on their children are ac- 
 customed to sing according to rule the hymns and 
 paeans with which every country district praises its 
 gods and heroes. Later they learn the melodies of 
 Timotheus and Philoxenos, and annually perform their 
 choral dances in the theatre to the accompaniment of 
 Dionysian flutes — the children their children's dances, 
 and youths the dances of men. Throughout their 
 whole life they institute performances in this way, hot 
 engaging foreign musicians, but relying upon their 
 own talents, and relieving each other in turn in the 
 execution of songs. And while it is not considered a 
 disgrace to plead ignorance in other fields of knowl- 
 
 95 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 edge, they consider it reprehensible to decline to sing. 
 They also practise processions to the accompaniment 
 of flutes, and annually perform dances which they 
 study together and produce in the theatres at the com- 
 mon expense.' 
 
 Not only in the public functions, but in their domestic 
 life as well, did music assume great importance. From 
 earliest times we have records of folk songs associated 
 with the various occupations of ordinary life. Of these 
 the songs which have reference to the seasons of the 
 year and their phenomena, and which express the emo- 
 tions called forth by them, are of the greatest antiquity. 
 They were sung by country folk, by the reapers and 
 vintners. There were two distinct classes of folk songs, 
 the songs of sorrow and the songs of joy, both of which 
 existed according to Homer before his time. Karl 
 Biicher in his Arbeit und Rhythmus shows that in the 
 occupational songs, where the dance did not form a 
 part of the music, the rhythm of the occupations them- 
 selves — the handling of tools — determined the rhythm 
 of the songs. Among such are the song of the miller 
 while grinding, the song of the spinners, the binders of 
 sheaves, and many others. There is no doubt that these 
 songs, expressing in simple terms the sorrows and joys 
 of the ordinary man, had a refreshing influence upon 
 the more sophisticated artistic creations of Greek mu- 
 sicians, just as our folk songs have had upon the works 
 of our greatest composers. The private practice of the 
 more artistic forms was also common among the 
 Greeks. We read in their literature how the lyre was 
 passed round at the banquet, and each guest was ex- 
 pected to add to the merriment of the occasion; of the 
 bridal songs, and many other forms of choral music 
 executed upon special occasions. 
 
 The actual character of this music we must gather 
 from the writings about it, rather than the few frag- 
 ments at hand for analysis. Just as music, because of 
 
 96 
 
Greek flutg: and/^Tfflikra players 
 
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 ^^^^H 
 
 ^piiC^ 
 
 
 KWEi 
 
 L 
 
 i^ 
 
 ^mI 
 
 ^/ 
 
 M 
 
 m 
 
 mm 
 
 
 
 m^im 
 
 M^ 
 
 m 
 
 
 11 
 
 
 ^^fll 
 
 [kAm 
 
GREEK FOLK-SONGS 
 
 its moral significance, became the subject of philo- 
 sophic speculation, so did its scientific side appeal to the 
 analytic mind of the Greeks, and their mathematicians 
 and scientists in general expatiated at length upon its 
 theory. From their writings we adduce first of all the 
 fact that Greek music lacked at least one of the im- 
 portant elements of modern music, namely, polyphony 
 — or harmony — the quality which of all, from a modern 
 point of view, appeals most directly to our emotions, 
 to our susceptibility, which is most closely associated 
 with color and 'mood.' Investigators, such as West- 
 phal, Gevaert, etc., have untiringly striven to establish 
 evidence of something more than simple homophony 
 in the music of antiquity, but beyond a slight deviation 
 in the instrumental accompaniments, partaking of the 
 nature of grace notes, they have discovered traces of 
 nothing but melody at the unison — or at the distance of 
 an octave, when men and boys (or women) sang to- 
 gether, or when the voice was accompanied by an in- 
 strument of higher or lower pitch. Such and nothing 
 more is the import of the testimony of Aristotle, when 
 he says: 'Why is symphonous or antiphonal singing 
 more pleasing than harmony? Is it not because it is 
 the consonance of the octave? For antiphony is born 
 of the voices of young boys and men, whose tones are 
 equal in distance from each other as is the highest note 
 of an octave from the lowest' (Problems xix, 29). Cur- 
 ious as it may seem that it should never have occurred 
 to a people intellectually so advanced to venture ex- 
 periments in the field of polyphony; that it should 
 never have entered their minds to strike two strings of 
 the lyre or kithara simultaneously, or that an occa- 
 sional false note struck along with the right one should 
 not have suggested the possibilities of the 'third di- 
 mension' in music, it remains a fact that in all the mass 
 of theoretical and technical writings upon the art suffi- 
 cient to reconstruct the entire 'system' of Greek music, 
 
 97 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 no mention is made of harmony or polyphony.* We 
 can only conclude then that combinations other than 
 the perfect consonance of the octave, all mixtures of 
 sounds or a confusion of lines, were hostile to the 
 Greek ideal of purity, to the underlying principle of 
 classic simplicity. 
 
 Thus the Greeks, reduced to the resources of rhythm 
 and melody as means of musical expression, developed 
 these to a very high degree, in the fineness of its dis- 
 tinctions advanced even beyond the point which we 
 have as yet found it necessary to reach in modern 
 music. Their rhythm, while no doubt it had a distinct 
 and independent existence, was primarily determined 
 by the accent of the spoken word, the metres of poetry. 
 Even if conceived as a musical entity, it must at all 
 times be thought of as pertaining to the text rather than 
 the melody. The earliest rhythm of which we have 
 knowledge is the hexameter of the Homeric epics, and 
 it is doubtful whether any variety in rhythmic structure 
 was introduced until the introduction of the short 
 iambic measures at a later period. Melody, on the 
 other hand, while subjected to certain laws, and at first 
 perhaps nothing more than a monotonous chant or 
 declamation at slightly varying pitch, finally attained 
 a variety of line and freedom of movement which ren- 
 dered it capable of the most subtle shades of expres- 
 sion. This, we are informed, was due to a complex 
 system of modes or scales, of genera and chroai, which, 
 if we understand them correctly, would credit the 
 Greek ear with much finer distinctions of pitch than we 
 are capable of to-day. 
 
 A full discussion of this system is beyond our present 
 purpose, and the numerous controversies concerning it, 
 which in many respects are still unsettled, place the 
 
 * The -word harmony (ip/uirla) 'was used by the Greeks in the sense 
 of melody and was the name given to the so-called octave species or modes 
 of which we shall speak hereafter. (Cf. Aristotle's 'Harmonics.') 
 
 98 
 
GENERAL CHARACTERISTICS 
 
 matter outside the pale of true history; but a brief 
 statement of its development (in historical sequence) 
 is necessary for the comprehension of the terms which 
 must recur in the course of our sketch. 
 
 Ill 
 
 We have seen that the Greeks recognized the con- 
 sonance of the octave. Similarly they recognized at 
 an early period the close relationship of the interval 
 of the perfect fifth, and its inversion, the perfect 
 fourth. The latter became the basis of the Greek sys- 
 tem of scales. They divided the interval into unequal 
 smaller intervals according to three methods, or 
 genera, in each case placing the larger steps at the top 
 and the smaller at the bottom. (An equal division of 
 the interval has, as far as we know, never been at- 
 tempted and is entirely foreign to natural impulses.) 
 The results obtained were as follows: 
 
 ^lie Three Genera 
 . Diatonic tetrachord Ghromatio tetrachord Enharmoiiio tetrachord 
 
 Of these three tetrachords (from rerpa = four and 
 XopSov = string) only the first was generally accepted, 
 the chromatic was rarely used and the enharmonic 
 probably only by virtuosi, for we have the testimony 
 of Aristoxenus that the ear accustomed itself only with 
 difficulty to the distinction of quarter tones. 
 
 By joining two diatonic tetrachords together we ob- 
 tain a series of notes corresponding to the Dorian scale 
 or mode (dp/iovia) — ^more properly 'octave species'-^ 
 which was accounted the oldest of all the modes : 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Associated with this we soon find the Phrygian 
 mode, supposed to be of Asiatic origin and introduced 
 into Greece by Terpander of Lesbos, one of the earli- 
 est known composers of antiquity: 
 
 and also the Lydian, the name of which indicates its 
 origin : 
 
 Around these three may be grouped all the modes 
 in use in classic times. These scales or octave species 
 may be compared rather to our present major and 
 minor modes than to our modern transposition scales, 
 in that their identity is determined not by their abso- 
 lute pitch, but by the intrinsic character of each mode, 
 based upon the distribution of the large and small 
 steps or intervals within the octave. But here the 
 analogy ends, for the Greek modes cannot really be 
 thought of in the same way as either modern scales 
 or modes, which by long association with our har- 
 monic system have become inseparably identified with 
 it, so that every step of the scale has a harmonic sig- 
 nificance as well as a melodic. Hence, there is asso- 
 ciated with our scales the idea of tonality, which in its 
 modern sense is entirely foreign to Greek music. 
 Nevertheless a distinct character or ethos was ascribed 
 to their scales by the Greeks (just as our major and 
 minor have their individual character). The Lydian, 
 for instance, was thought of as plaintive and adaptable 
 to songs of sorrow; the Dorian as manly and strong, 
 hence to be employed in warlike strains; and so on.* 
 
 * The statement of Aristotle, that certain low-pitched modes suited 
 the failing voices of old men, is misleading, as it assumes a fixed pitch for 
 the modes, which at least in classic times they had not, and which was 
 
 100 
 
SYSTEMS AND SCALES 
 
 It will be seen that the above three scales correspond 
 to the three series of notes comprised within the oc- 
 taves from e to e', d to d', and c to c', produced by 
 the white keys of the piano. (While this does not 
 indicate their absolute pitch, it represents the relative 
 pitch at which they appear as part of the entire sys- 
 tem, or 'foundation scale,' of the Greeks, illustrated on 
 page 103. By a transposition of the tetrachord di- 
 visions of each of these scales, the Greeks obtained two 
 additional scales out of each of the above three. These 
 derived scales were denoted by the prefixes hypo and 
 hyper (low and high), respectively: 
 
 Hypophrygu^MLike Hyper- Hyperdorian 
 
 / \ / \ 
 
 A B c d e f g a b c' d' e' f g* a' b' 
 
 \ / 
 
 Dorian 
 
 Hypophrygian (Like Hyper- Hyperphrygian (Like Hypo- 
 lydian) dorian) 
 
 y ^ 
 
 G A B c d e f g a b c' d' e' f ' g' a' 
 
 \ / 
 
 Phrygian 
 
 Hypolydian 
 
 Hyperlydian (Like Hypo- 
 phrygian) 
 ^ ^ ^ 
 
 FGABcdef gabc'd'e'f'g' 
 
 \ / 
 
 Lydian 
 
 (It is evident from this table that the Hypodorian corre- 
 sponds, to the Hyperphrygian, and the Hypophrygian to the 
 Hyperlydian; hence there are only seven different modes.) 
 
 not their essential quality. It may be that in Aristotle's time the ethical 
 conception of modes had been lost and that they had all become practically 
 transposition scales. But the theory advanced by H. S. Macran in 'Grove's 
 Dictionary,' which gives each mode an 'intrinsic' pitch character according 
 to the high or low position of its mese, or tonic, is Interesting. According 
 to the laws of Greek music, this 'tonic' must be the predominating or con- 
 stantly recurring note in every melody. 
 
 101 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 A common relationship was thus clearly recognized 
 between the three scales of each group, which may be 
 thought of as having one common tonic. It may be 
 noted, however, that the Hypodorian probably had an 
 independent existence before being associated with the 
 Dorian, as is indicated by its own ethnological name 
 of '^olian,' and as such was supposed to be of great 
 antiquity. The Hyperdorian enjoyed an independent 
 existence as 'Mixolydian.' Its invention has been vari- 
 ously ascribed to Sappho, Damon and Pythocleides. 
 
 We have seen how, by joining two tetrachords, the 
 Greeks constructed their Dorian scale (octachord) . By 
 joining additional tetrachords to this scale at either 
 end they obtained their double octave scale or 'Perfect 
 Immutable System': 
 
 jTetracliOTil SyiiiBlll- : 
 I menon QHfjtmet) \ 
 
 •'TetracliDrdB7perbol-::T,I}iezeiigineuou := T.Mesoa liT.Hypaton^ ProaLun- 
 
 It should be noted, however, that the new tetra- 
 chords are added conjunctively, i. e., so that one of 
 their notes (e) coincides with the terminal notes of 
 the original octave, while the two tetrachords making 
 up that octave were placed in juxtaposition with a 
 whole tone step between them. This was called the 
 tone of disjunction (diezeuxis) . For purposes of 
 modulation (metabole) they now laid across the mid- 
 dle of this system an additional diatonic tetrachord 
 (from d to a) in such a way that one of its tones (bb) 
 came half way between the two notes of the diezeuxis* 
 The low A was added to round out the octave. (It is 
 a curious fact that what we call low the Greeks called 
 high and vice versa.) The two tetrachords Meson and 
 
 * The bb Is known to have been the first chromatic string added to 
 The kithara, or lyre, thus enabling players to use several modes without 
 tuning the instrument especially for them, 
 
 102 
 
SYSTEMS AND SCALES 
 
 Hypaton, together with the conjunctive {Sgnem- 
 menon), were also considered as an independent sys- 
 tem called the Lesser Perfect System. The relation 
 of these systems as well as the names of the individual 
 notes are set forth on the accompanying table. 
 
 DOUBLE OCTAVE SCALE, or PERFECT IMMUTABLE SYSTEM 
 
 E 
 
 CO 
 
 £ 
 
 o 
 
 a a 
 o o 
 
 I- 
 
 a 0) 
 
 ^ Qt 
 
 Is 
 
 U S 
 
 eg V 
 u N 
 
 « -m 
 
 HO 
 
 Nete hyperbolaion a 
 
 Tone 
 Paranete fiyperbolaion ... g 
 Tone 
 
 Trite hyperbolaion t 
 
 Semitone 
 
 iNete Diezeugmenon ...... e — 
 
 Tone /\DiezeuxiS- — — -__, 
 Paranete Diezeugmenon.. d d Nete Synemmenon* 
 Tone Tone 
 
 Trite Biezeugmenoit c c Paranete Synemme- 
 
 non 
 Semitone Tone 
 
 .Paramese .,.,..- b bb Trite Synemmenon 
 
 """■■ -~____I)iazeuxis\^Semitone 
 
 a Mese ...>...-.'.... 
 
 Tone 
 
 G Lichanos Meson ,,, 
 Tone 
 
 F Parhypate Meson .. 
 Semitone 
 
 E Hypate Meson .... 
 Tone 
 
 D Lichanos Hypaton 
 Tone 
 C Parhypate Hypaton 
 Semitone 
 
 B Hypate Hypaton ... 
 
 A Proslambanomenos . 
 
 Tetrachordon 
 
 Meson' 
 
 Tetrachordon 
 Hypaton 
 
 §§ 
 
 n 
 
 o 
 
 p 
 
 w 
 
 r'sl 
 §1 
 
 a 
 
 By carving out of the Greater Perfect System (which 
 we may call simply the Complete System) overlapping 
 octave sections, each beginning on a different note, the 
 
 103 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Greek theorists found these to correspond in their 
 intervals to each of the seven different modes, as fol- 
 lows: Thus all scales came to be thought of theoret- 
 
 § g 
 
 3 § 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 I 
 
 fit 
 
 I 
 
 s s 
 
 8 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 g 
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 e 3 a 
 
 I" I Mese I 
 
 I ^ 
 
 ically as transpositions of the corresponding octave sec- 
 tions in the Complete System (Foundation Scale). In- 
 deed, the entire system was considered as transposed 
 and the individual tones retained their names regard- 
 less of pitch, i. e., in the Dorian mode the mese would 
 always be the fourth note from the bottom, in the 
 Phrygian the fifth, etc. 
 
 As an example, let us transpose the Foundation Scale 
 one tone above its natural pitch: 
 
 Middle Octave (Phrygian) 
 
 The middle octave will now be seen to be Phrygian 
 (corresponding to No. 3 above) instead of Dorian as 
 before. Now in their system of transposition scales 
 (in reality transposed Complete Systems) the Greeks 
 gave to every scale the name corresponding to the 
 mode of its middle octave. Before the time of Aris- 
 
 104 
 
SYSTEMS AND SCALES 
 
 toxenus only seven of these transposition scales, 
 or keys ( rovSi) were in use. That theoretician eventu- 
 ally rounded out the scheme to eighteen (of which 
 six appear in modern notation as duplicates or octave 
 transpositions). He did this systematically by taking 
 the interval of the perfect fifth as a basis and building 
 on each semitone degree a group of three scales (natu- 
 ral, hypo, and hyper). As there were not enough of 
 the original modes to supply names for all of the 
 new scales, it was, of course, necessary to invent arbi- 
 trary names for the superfluous ones. By this achieve- 
 ment it was possible to transpose a melody into any 
 one of the eighteen (or really twelve) keys without 
 changing its modal character. We may therefore as- 
 sume with some justification that Aristoxenus' sys- 
 tem in a way did for the Greeks what our own equal 
 temperament has done for modern music. 
 
 We end our brief sketch of Greek theory at this 
 point, which may be assumed as the highest develop- 
 ment of the system. Later systems were either based 
 on Aristoxenus or were of reactionary nature. We 
 must, however, for a moment retrace our steps to ex- 
 plain briefly the achievements of an earlier theoreti- 
 cian, the great philosopher Pythagoras, in the field of 
 musical acoustics. 
 
 IV 
 
 Like many of the ancient philosophers, Pythagoras 
 (ca. 600 B. C.) is known only by his disciples and by 
 their quotations from or commentaries on his teach- 
 ing, df these the most important are Archytas (400- 
 365 B. C.) and the great mathematician Euclid (ca. 300 
 B. C), though there is some reason to suppose the part 
 of Euclid's work dealing with music to have been writ- 
 ten by Cleonides (ca. 200 B. C.) and by the later Pytha- 
 gorean Nichomachus (ca. 150 A. D.). 
 
 In Hierocles' Commentaries on the 'Symbols' and 
 
 105 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 'Golden Verses' of Pythagoras, M. Dacier, the transla- 
 tor, amplifies the prefatory Life of Pythagoras found 
 in Hierocles, and he recounts, as Gaudentius, Nicho- 
 machus, Macrobius, Boetius, and others have re- 
 counted, the incident which drew the attention of the 
 ancient founder of the great system of secret numbers 
 to the munerical relations of Sound in Music. The 
 quaint old story is as follows : 'Pythagoras is honored 
 with the Invention of Harmonical Measures; and 'tis 
 related how it happened. They write, that one Day, 
 after he had been meditating a long while on the Means 
 of assisting the Hearing, as he had already found 
 means of assisting the Sight, by the Rule, Compass, 
 Astrolabe and other Instruments, and the Feeling, by 
 the Balance and the Measures, he chanced to go by a 
 Smith's Shop, and heard several Hammers of different 
 Sizes, beating Iron upon the Anvil. He was moved 
 with the Justness of the Harmony, and going into the 
 Shop, he examined the Hammers and their sound in 
 regard to their Sizes; and, being returned home, he 
 made an Instrument on the Wall of his Chamber, with 
 Stakes that served for pegs and with strings of equal 
 length, at the end of which he tied the different 
 Weights, and by striking several of these strings at 
 once he produced different Tones, and thereby learnt 
 the Reasons of this different Harmony, and of the in- 
 tervals that caused it.' 
 
 In general it may be pointed out that the Pythago- 
 rean system of harmonics was only incidental to phi- 
 losophy. Thus Laloy, speaking of the musical system 
 of Pythagoras, says: 'One finds, amid their confused 
 accounts and contradictory assertions, a body of rules 
 and precepts which present a "Pythagoric life," as 
 there was an "Orphic life," in which justice, order, 
 friendship, abstinence, geometry, and music are an in- 
 tegral part . . . even metempsychosis itself being 
 merely the truth inherent in a number.' 
 
 106 
 
PYTHAGORAS' THEORIES 
 
 T he mono chord. a single string stretched over a slid- 
 ing bridge, was the basis of the acoustical experiments 
 of Pythagoras. By shifting the position of the bridge 
 he varied the pitch of this string. His great discovery, 
 that which has rightly caused him to be regarded as 
 the founder of a branch of acoustics, was that between 
 the respective lengths of stretched strings which gave 
 the three consonances of octave, fifth and fourth, there 
 existed certain essentially simple relations, as follows : 
 the octave was in the relation of a string of one half 
 the length or double the length; in other words, the 
 relation of 2/1; the fifth was in the relation of 3/2; and 
 the fourth in the relation of 4/3. These intervals, ap- 
 parently on account of the simplicity of their mathe- 
 matical relationship, were henceforth regarded as con- 
 sonant. All other intervals were dissonant, at any rate 
 ii} theory. The essential difference between the mathe- 
 matical theory of sound ratios as held by the Pythago- 
 reans and that held in modern times lies in the con- 
 ception of the Third. To the Greeks such an interval 
 was entirely dissonant, not necessarily because it was 
 displeasing to the ear, but because they either did not 
 recognize its ratio as 4/5 or did not deem this ratio 
 to fit in with the highly abstruse theology they had 
 built up on other numerical ratios. The step of the 
 Fifth was to the Pythagoreans not merely the funda- 
 mental, but also the only, basis for the determina- 
 tion of tone ratios, whereas to-day the Third and 
 sometimes even the Seventh are taken into account. 
 
 As to the value that Pythagoras attached to these 
 fundamentals, we may quote Hierocles: 'Pythagoras,' 
 he says, 'has a very particular Opinion concerning 
 Musick, which nevertheless the Masters of that Science, 
 after they have duly weigh'd it, will find Just and Rea- 
 sonable. He condemned and rejected all judgment 
 that was made of Musick by the ear: because he found 
 the Sense of Hearing to be already so weaken'd and 
 
 107 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 decay'd, that it was no longer able to judge aright. 
 He would have Men therefore judge of it by the 
 Understanding, and by the analogical and proportion- 
 able Harmony. This in my opinion was to show that 
 the Beauty of Musick is independent of the Tune that 
 strikes the Ear, and consists only in the Reason, in 
 the confirmity and in the Proportion, of which the 
 Understanding is the only Judge.' And he adds this re- 
 mark: 'As to what he said, that the Sense of Hearing 
 was become weak and impotent, it agrees with this 
 other Assertion of his, that the reason why Men did not 
 hear the Musick of the Universe was the weakness and 
 imbecility of their Nature, which they had corrupted 
 and suffered to degenerate.' 
 
 The error of the Pythagoreans, it may be pointed out, 
 did not lie in the misuse of experimental data, but in 
 the philosophical deductions therefrom. To the fol- 
 lowers of Pythagoras a harmonic consonance was not 
 a perception, it was a thing the existence of which 
 could be conceived independently, a thing as real as 
 the string which had given it birth. Sound was to 
 them, therefore, a distinct identity, possessing attri- 
 butes pertaining only to itself, yet susceptible of impres- 
 sion from without; it was a number realized and con- 
 crete, a mmiber simple and all-inclusive, but, above 
 all, a series of numbers possessing a personality, the 
 veiling power of which both illumined and obscured 
 a myriad symbolisms. Strict Harmonic Consonance 
 was the utmost of numerical potency, it was a divine 
 thought, not embodied Being. How deeply this was 
 felt to be a truth by the Pythagoreans is evidenced 
 by the story told of the death of Pythagoras, when the 
 great philosopher, turning to his disciples, gave as his 
 last instruction "Always the monochord!" 
 
 As for the value of the Pythagorean school as 
 a whole, it is manifest that it must be considered as a 
 group of mystical speculators, professing to be students 
 
 108 
 
PYTHAGORAS' THEORIES 
 
 of music and claiming Pythagoras as their master, but, 
 in actual verity, doing little more than reducing sounds 
 to air vibrations and ascertaining the numerical rela- 
 tions of pitch. Lovers of music they were not, they 
 were mathematical precisians, perceiving no beauty 
 and hearing no inspiration in melodic sounds except 
 in such wise as these fitted into an ordered sequence 
 of arithmetical form. 
 
 The development of the Pythagorean school was ren- 
 dered all the more self-centred by the vitality and 
 strength of the Empiricists. This flourishing school of 
 musical art was concerned with arbitrary regulations 
 as to the most acceptable forms of composition. The 
 Empiricists determined what melodies were suitable 
 to certain instruments. They debarred the flute from 
 certain festivals and admitted it to others, they de- 
 cided upon the forms of construction of musical instru- 
 ments, and, above all, they insisted upon the perform- 
 ance of certain compositions in the traditional style. 
 While not avowedly hostile to the Pythagoreans, the 
 Empirical school paid little heed to the mathematical 
 speculations of the learned, and song and dance con- 
 tinued because music was an art. Great as was the 
 symbolic majesty of the Monochord, the surging strain 
 of the lyre meant infinitely more to the life of Ancient 
 Greece. 
 
 The second great development of Greek musical phi- 
 losophy is that of Aristoxenus (b. 354 B. C), whose 
 systemization of the transposition scales has already 
 been mentioned. If Pythagoras established some of 
 the fundamental rules of acoustics, Aristoxenus may 
 be given the credit of establishing Musical Science; the 
 former was a branch of a science, the second was the 
 science of an art. 
 
 To put the essential principles of Aristoxenus in the 
 simplest possible form it may be said that he estab- 
 lished two principal rules: (1) that music accepts 
 
 109 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Sound as sounds heard by the ear, and that the science 
 of music must be built upon the foundation of sounds 
 that are heard; (2) that sound-functions exist, posses- 
 sing properties of sonance not directly reducible to 
 any simple or elemental numerical ratio. The work 
 of Aristoxenus was a revolution in musical philosophy 
 based upon the principle of music as an organic whole 
 of sounds bearing a dynamic relation each to the 
 other. Aristotle had not been able to break away from 
 the old Pythagorean conception, but Aristoxenus 
 brushed away the misty speculations of morality, the 
 mathematical entanglements and the musty formalism 
 that surround the music of his time and set himself to 
 answer the one vital question : Why does Music employ 
 certain sounds and reject certain others? 
 
 The third stage of development of Greek music may 
 be represented by Claudius Ptolemy, who lived in the 
 second century of the Christian era. He may, with 
 considerable authority, be deemed the inventor of the 
 first interpreter of the equal tempered scale. R. C. 
 Phillips has thrown considerable light upon the dis- 
 puted questions involved in this matter, and to his 
 monograph on the 'Harmonic Tetrachords of Claudius 
 Ptolemy' (1904) we may refer the reader desirous of 
 detailed information. Leaving the question of theory, 
 we now proceed to pick up the thread of mythical 
 story and trace what we can of the history of Greek 
 composition. 
 
 All legendary references to the prehistoric era of 
 Greek music point to its importation into Hellas by va- 
 rious artists, partly from the North (Thessaly and 
 Thrace) and partly from the East (Asia Minor). In 
 this we see probably nothing more than a racial recol- 
 lection of the Dorian migration, which, as we know, 
 took place about the year 1104 B. C. Orpheus, of 
 
 110 
 
LATER THEORISTS 
 
 whom we have already spoken, must be counted among 
 the Northerners, the Thracians, for his native place was 
 Pieria at the foot of Mt. Olympus. His pupil, Musaios, 
 was supposed to have lived in Athens, and his son 
 Eumolpos was the progenitor of the famous family 
 of priests and singers which were entrusted perpetu- 
 ally with the rites of the Eleusinian mysteries, sacred 
 to Demeter. Amphion, another of the Northern ar- 
 tists (the miraculous builder of the walls of Thebes), 
 is described by Pausanias (Graeco-Roman historian, 
 2d Cent., A. D.) as a relative of Tantalos of Lydia, and 
 to have brought from there the Lydian mode. He is 
 also credited with having increased the lyre from 
 four to seven strings. Heraclides Ponticus calls him 
 the founder of the kitharoedic school of poetry, which 
 was governed by a method and laws distinct from the 
 auletic school, associated with the aulos, the Grecian 
 flute, from which it took its name. The regulation of 
 the cult of ApoUo at Delphi is ascribed to Philammon, 
 whose son Thamyris, a native of the more uncultured 
 regions of Thrace, was said to have challenged the 
 muses to contest, and to have been punished for this 
 offense with blindness. 
 
 Thus the North was, as we have seen, the home of 
 the kitharoedic muse; Phrygia, on the other hand, must 
 be considered as the cradle of the auletic school, of 
 which the most prominent early names are Hyagnis, 
 Marsyas, and Olympus, the three oldest players upon 
 the flute. The first of these was said to be the inventor 
 of that art. Marsyas was his son and first disciple, 
 while Olympus introduced the art into Greece and 
 became the first Hellenic master of artistic instrumen- 
 tal music* 
 
 * The distinction of an older and younger Olympus ■which was made 
 by Pratinas, the Greek poet and historian, is no longer credited. At any 
 rate, the older (whom Pratinas places before the Trojan War) is the one 
 to whom the chief merits accrue, and therefore the only one to be con- 
 sidered here. 
 
 Ill 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 • The first distinct period of musical composition is 
 that of the nomoi {sing, nomos; Gr. vo/ws = law), a cer- 
 tain type of melodies constructed according to fixed 
 rules, which were sung as solos to verses whose subject 
 was usually the praise of some god. (The singers per- 
 forming them were known as aoeds and later as rhap- 
 sodists.) The earliest nomoi were melodies of very 
 simple structure, but from the first there is a distinc- 
 tion between the kitharcedic and auletic types, the first 
 of which is supposed to have followed the Homeric 
 hexameter (iambic metre), and the latter to have been 
 based on the elegiac measures, offering, however, a 
 considerable variety of rhythm. 
 
 The pioneer representatives of these two opposing 
 schools were, respectively, Olympus, already familiar 
 to us, and Terpander, both of whom belong to the 
 seventh century B. C. Concerning Olympus' art a 
 startling assertion is found in Plutarch. He was re- 
 garded by Greek musicians as the originator of the 
 enharmonic genus. Upon clearer examination, it has 
 been found that this use of the word 'enharmonic' does 
 not coincide with the sense in which it is used above, 
 where we explained the three genera of tetrachords. 
 The quarter-tone division is, indeed, a much later 
 product and does not seem ever to have attained to 
 great popularity. The enharmonic scale of Olympus 
 simply consisted of the diatonic with a step omitted, 
 so as to avoid all semi-tone intervals in the melodies. 
 This elided tone was probably the Lichanos of the 
 Phrygian scale {dpiwvui), or f, if we take the octave 
 from d to d' on the white keys of the piano. The 
 Phrygian was naturally the scale used by Olympus, 
 whose home was Phrygia, but he is also said to have 
 introduced this 'enharmonic' type of melody into the 
 Dorian mode. When the full octachord came into con- 
 sideration (originally the scale was limited to seven 
 
 112 
 
PERIODS OF GREEK COMPOSITION 
 
 notes) the omission of the upper tone of the higher 
 semi-tone interval (from b to c) followed as a matter 
 of course. Thus Terpander's 'enharmonic' scale is seen 
 to be simply a sort of pentatonic system, the antiquity 
 of which is already evident from our examination of 
 primitive music. 
 
 Little is known of Olympus' life. What part of 
 Greece he inhabited we are not told. It seems certain 
 that he practised his art in the service of Apollo. 
 About one hundred years before the beginning of the 
 Pythic games at Delphi he composed a song describ- 
 ing the fight of Apollo with the dragon, which after- 
 ward became known as the Nomos Pythicos, and which, 
 as we have seen, was regularly performed upon the 
 first day of the Pythic festivals.* 
 
 Of Terpander, however, the first of the kitharcedic 
 nome writers, we have many isolated details, both of 
 legend and fact. There is a story that the lyre of 
 Orpheus was carried on the waves of the sea from the 
 Thracian coast to Antissa on Lesbos, where Terpander 
 was born. Orpheus is, indeed, the singer whom Ter- 
 pander was said to emulate, while Olympus was sup- 
 posed to follow the models of Homer. Terpander was 
 the first victor in the Spartan Carneata (festival in 
 honor of Apollo), which began during the twenty-sixth 
 Olympiad. This indicates his settling in Sparta, which 
 is further confirmed by Plutarch, who in his De musica 
 calls him the chief representative of the first period 
 in which Sparta flourished musically. Plutarch also 
 records the legend that he successfully subdued a re- 
 volt of the Lacedemonians by the power of his music. 
 To us the most important item of Terpander's achieve- 
 
 * During the first auletlc contest in connection with these festivals, 
 which took place in 586 B. C, a certain Sakadas was awarded the victor's 
 wreath for the performance of another Nomos Pythicos, composed by him- 
 self, which, from all accounts, may he looked upon as « sort of program 
 music, describing the event in realistic manner. 
 
 113 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 ments is the addition of the eighth string to the lyre 
 (kithara), thus completing the octave. 
 
 The next musician of extraordinary importance was 
 Archilochos of Paraos, whose period has been fixed 
 as 675-630. His popularity seems to have surpassed 
 that of any other except Homer, with whom he was 
 equal in the estimation of the ancients. His literary- 
 merit consists of the introduction into artistic poetry 
 of the iambic and trochaic trimeter and tetrameter and 
 the origination of the strophic form, by the alternation 
 of shorter verses of different rhythm with longer ones. 
 Similarly, his great musical achievement is the intro- 
 duction of rhythmical change and the use of faster 
 time. In using shorter measures he endowed his com- 
 positions with a certain folk-quality which, combined 
 with the element of satire and fable, quickly brought 
 them into popular favor. Archilochos was a pugna- 
 cious, combative character; he had taken part in the 
 wars on Euboea and found his death in a warlike ex- 
 ploit on Nasos. His invective and satirical poems were 
 a totally new departure in Greek poetry. A peculiar 
 practice, which in a sense survives in the method of 
 our musical comedians, was introduced by Archilo- 
 chos for humoristic effect, i. e., the interrupting of 
 the song proper by the spoken word, followed by a 
 return to the melody after a brief instrumental inter- 
 lude. This was known as paracataloge. Its use was 
 later transferred to the serious ode and even the 
 tragedy. A reference in Plutarch to Archilochos' ac- 
 companiments 'under the vocal part, whereas the old 
 ones sang everything in unison' has aroused consid- 
 erable controversy. We shall dismiss it with the well- 
 supported conclusion of Riemann, that it does not 
 point to any form of heterophony, but to certain meth- 
 ods of interluding, rhythmical ornamentation and 
 playing in the upper octave (flageolet). 
 
 The strophic forms of Archilochos constituted the 
 
 114 
 
PERIODS OF GREEK COMPOSITION 
 
 preliminary steps toward the development of lyric 
 poetry, which, founded in the seventh century, 'raised 
 its graceful structure in the sixth.' Alkman and Stesi- 
 choros furnish the transition to this subjective school, 
 whose disciples are essentially the celebrants of love 
 and wine. According to dialects it falls into three 
 divisions — the Ionian, Dorian, and ^Eolian. The last, 
 rooted in the kitharcedic school of Terpander, finds in 
 its Lesbian home its first exponents — Alkaios and 
 Sappho. 
 
 Alkaios (625-575 B. C), son of a noble family of 
 Mitylene, composed no less than ten books of sacred 
 hymns and drinking, love, and war songs, in which the 
 predominating note is the hate of tyranny and the joys 
 of the banquet. His contemporary, Sappho, whose 
 verses are likewise full of passion and pathos, takes 
 flaming love as her theme, and a number of other 
 Greek women poets of the sixth century follow her 
 example. 'The poems of Alkaios and Sappho are the 
 most melodious of Greek creations. . . . Their fluent 
 strophes, so easily subjected to musical treatment, have 
 not only in antiquity but throughout a series of cen- 
 turies been regarded as a fixed form' (cf. the Odes of 
 Horace). Ibykos and Anakreon, both living in the 
 second half of the sixth century, belong to the same 
 category. Both were wandering singers. The former 
 is known to us through Schiller's poem perpetuating 
 the legend of the cranes; the latter is still a byword 
 for the joy of life and the praise of love, wine, and 
 song. 
 
 A group of auletic musicians living in the seventh 
 century, to which belonged Xenokritos, Polymnestos, 
 and Thaletas, is credited with new developments in the 
 musical practice of Sparta, which were soon trans- 
 ferred to the other Hellenic states as well. This great 
 and far-reaching innovation was the introduction of 
 the choral dances. 
 
 115 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 The cradle of the dance was said to be the island 
 of Crete. Thence came Thaletas, the most important 
 of the group of composers just mentioned. His fame 
 reached the Spartans, who summoned him to organize 
 a Psean in honor of Apollo, in order to allay the pest,* 
 and this inaugurated his extended activity in Sparta, 
 where he introduced also the pyrrhic {■nvppCxn), a rap- 
 idly moving dance, and the gymnopaedia (yviivoTraiSla) 
 festival dances performed annually in honor of those 
 who fell at Thyrea. In the regular order of gymnastic 
 dance education the last named were first, then came 
 the pyrrhics, and finally the 'stage dances,' including 
 the famous hyporchemas — ^pantomimic dances — ^which 
 doubtless were a development in the direction of the 
 drama. 
 
 According to a description of Athenaeus the gymno- 
 paedias resembled the regular wrestling of the palaestra, 
 for all the young boys danced naked and executed 
 rhythmic body motions and responsive movements of 
 the hands. The pyrrhic, which, according to Aristoxe- 
 nus, was not an importation but of native Spartan 
 origin, was a sort of war dance, which later, however, 
 took on a bacchic character, rods and torches displac- 
 ing the spears. It is recorded that marching songs, ac- 
 companied by rhythmic motions, were popular in 
 Sparta from early times, and in the second Messenian 
 war (685 R. C.) inspired the warriors to victory. The 
 word hyporchema, defined as a pantomimic dance, 
 'in its narrowest sense signifies the pantomimic repre- 
 sentation of the action described by the words' (Athe- 
 nseus, i. 15). The same authority says that 'while the 
 chorus danced, it sang' and that 'some of the hymns 
 were danced and some were not, just as the Paeans 
 were sung either with or without dancing.' Among 
 
 * The word Paean (Gr. iraCav ) originally signified physician. It was 
 the name given to a choral address, usually of thanksgiving, to Apollo or 
 Diana. 
 
 116 
 
THE CHORAL DANCES 
 
 the hyporchemas are also included a great number of 
 individual actions which made up the ceremonial of 
 the great religious festivals and games, such as the 
 gathering of the laurels for the victor, the garnering of 
 the grapes, the bringing in of the tripod.' To them 
 belong also the so-called 'Prosodies,' sung to the ac- 
 companiment of the aulos during the processional into 
 the temple or the approach to and withdrawal from 
 the altar. All choral dancing was of course closely 
 associated with music. And, while the monodic forms 
 of composition continued to flourish, choral music 
 came to stand highest in the public favor. The charm 
 of variety afforded by a combination of the two was, 
 moreover, quickly recognized. 
 
 The development of this choral music was the par- 
 ticular mission of a school of lyricists no less cele- 
 brated than the ^Eolian — ^namely, the Dorian. It was 
 considered the highest form of lyricism. Larger peri- 
 ods and great variety, instead of short and regular 
 strophes, distinguish its form, while its spiritual im- 
 port is correspondingly broader. The hymnee (bridal 
 choruses); the scolia (praising a celebrated person- 
 ality), out of which grew the encomium (song of 
 praise), and the epinikion, sung in praise of the vic- 
 tors at the great festival games, are said to have 
 introduced the softer, subjective, essentially lyrical 
 element into the chorus. The dithyramb, originally a 
 Bacchic festival song in honor of the god of wine 
 (Dionysos), represents the highest of lyric choral 
 forms. It originated in Phrygia, was developed artis- 
 tically by Arion, living at the court of Periander in 
 Corinth (628-585 B. C), but was cultivated principally 
 at Athens, first through Lasos of Hermione. Arion was 
 the first to assemble a large chorus — 50 men and boys 
 — ^forming a circle around the altar of Dionysos, with 
 a flute player in the centre. Before him Tyrtaeus (685 
 B. C.) was said to have originated the division of the 
 
 117 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 chorus into three parts — 'children, men, and old men' 
 — ^but earlier than that we learn from Pollux of the 
 partition of the chorus into two semi-choirs, which 
 sang in responsive or antiphonary manner. 
 
 Simonides of Keos and Pindar are the chief figures 
 of choral lyricism. The former, born on the isle of 
 Keos (Ionia), lived first at the court of Hipparch in 
 Athens, after whose assassination he went to Thessaly. 
 After the battle of Marathon (490) he reappeared at 
 Athens with an elegy upon the fallen warriors, which 
 left him victor over ^schylus, the founder of the 
 drama. He also won the dithyrambic contest in 471, 
 and he died at the court of Hierons of Syracuse. The 
 reproach of commercialism, made against Simonides 
 because of his acceptance of favors and pay at the 
 hand of rulers, reminds one of present-day criticism. 
 In contrast to him, Pindar (522-448), the illustrious 
 master, revered not less than Homer himself, was a 
 retiring personality, 'living for himself rather than 
 others.' He was born at Thebes. His life story has 
 been embellished with legend and fiction, indicating 
 the nation's affection for him. He participated fre- 
 quently in the national festivals and, it is related, 
 found his death on the stage of the theatre at Argos. 
 His works combine no less than seventeen books con- 
 taining hymns, paeans, dithyrambs, parthenias, hypor- 
 chemas, encomiums, thernoi epinikia, and other 
 forms, all intended for choral performance. His first 
 Pythic ode is among the six fragments of Greek music 
 preserved to us. 
 
 We must now consider what is perhaps the greatest 
 and the most original creation of the Greek mind — 
 the drama. Its forms we have seen in lyric poetry and 
 in pantomimic dances of the chorus, furnishing the 
 elements of dialogue and representative action. These 
 forms are to be found independently among other na- 
 tions of antiquity, but their combination is peculiar 
 
 118 
 
CHORAL LYRICISM 
 
 to the Greeks, to whom the entire world is indebted 
 for the art of the theatre. Like the dithyrambic chorus, 
 whose close connection with the worship of Dionysos 
 we have observed, the drama was perpetually asso- 
 ciated with these bacchic festivals. The very name 
 tragedy (from Tpayds = goat) indicates its root form — 
 the satyr play, executed by men disguised with fur 
 skin and the cloven hoof to represent the votaries of 
 the God. Here is added another element of the drama 
 — ^impersonation — though earlier cases of it are seen, 
 for instance, in the disguise of the poet Chrysothemis 
 as the god Apollo, when performing his compositions. 
 Allegory and symbolism were things to which the 
 Greek mind naturally inclined. Mythological concep- 
 tions were often visualized, such as the favorite fight 
 of Apollo and the dragon, the myth of Demeter and 
 Persephone represented in the Eleusinian mysteries, 
 etc. The word Spav is the general expression for secret 
 action in the Pagan cult, hence in the antique drama, 
 no less than our own opera, we may recognize a sacred 
 origin (cf. Chap. XI, p. 325). The dithyrambic chorus, 
 whose members themselves are thought to have been 
 disguised as satyrs, furnished the last preparatory step 
 leading to the tragedy, which, it should be noted, gradu- 
 ally developed out of the non-choral sections, the solo 
 speeches of the leaders.* Similarly, the Comedy had 
 its beginning in the rather coarse witticisms of the 
 choral leaders in the Bacchic processions of the Diony- 
 sos festival (cf. Aristotle, 'Poetics,' 4). 
 
 The first real dramatist was Thespis, who, in 536 B. C, 
 was summoned to Athens by the Pisistratides to pro- 
 duce a tragedy in which for the first time there ap- 
 peared an actor outside of the chorus. It developed 
 
 * Dithyrambic composition continued, of course, to flourish beside the 
 drama, as did also the writing of nomes, but both were corrupted by the 
 introduction of solo Interpolations (in the case of the former) and choral 
 numhers (in the latter), so that they finally approached each other in a 
 sort of cantata form. 
 
 119 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 rapidly from then on — ^we need only mention the intro- 
 duction of the comedy by Epicharmos (540-450) and 
 its official sanctioning in Athens in 487. Phrynichos, 
 the greatest dramatist before ^schylus, is remembered 
 by the performance of the 'Fall of Milet' for which, 
 because it reminded the Athenians of their defeat, he 
 was punished, and the political tragedy henceforth 
 forbidden. The names of the three greatest tragic 
 poets, ^schylus (525-456), Sophocles (496-406), and 
 Euripides (450-395), are too well known to require 
 comment. Our present task is simply to point out 
 the important part which music played in their works. 
 The parallel frequently drawn between the modern 
 opera or music drama on the one hand, and the classic 
 tragedy on the other, we may dismiss with the state- 
 ment of Riemann, that 'the classic tragedy was a drama 
 in which music as such cooperated, while in the mod- 
 ern (music drama) music occupies an eminently domi- 
 nating place.' We might add that, whereas we speak, 
 for instance, of Wagner as being his own librettist, we 
 might say of Euripides that he supplied his own music 
 for his drama. 
 
 The three elements of modern opera — soloists, chor- 
 us, and orchestra — ^were, indeed, represented in the 
 classic drama. The soloists were the actors (who sang 
 most of their speeches) and the chorus leader with his 
 assistants, who were sometimes drafted to the stage 
 proper, to take part in the action. The chorus con- 
 sisted of fifteen members in the tragedy, twenty-four 
 in the comedy. It was placed on a lower eminence 
 than the principals (on the 'orchestra') and represented 
 at first (with ^schylus and Sophocles) the 'moral con- 
 sciousness of the people.' Later, with Euripides, its 
 contemplative function was superseded by its actual 
 participation in the action as a mob. It sang together 
 — or tutti, as we would say — the parados and aphodos, 
 the processional and recessional choruses — ^for which 
 
 120 
 
THE GREEK DRAMA 
 
 the chorus was sometimes divided into sections, ap- 
 pearing one after the other, as, for instance, in the 
 'Seven against Thebes,' and the stasima, interspersed 
 through the action. The choral dance of the tragedy, 
 festive and stately, was called emmeleia; that of the 
 satyr play, grotesque and rapid, the sikinnis, and the 
 lampooning, lascivious dance of the comedy, cordax. 
 The 'orchestra' consisted of one simple flute player, 
 who used the double aulos. This was traditionally the 
 characteristic 'orgiastic' instrument. The kithara, de- 
 spite its popularity in other uses, was never admitted 
 to the tragedy. The chief function of the flute may 
 have been to keep the chorus 'in tune,' but it is certain 
 that it played interludes, etc., and at times solo num- 
 bers, for we know that aulos playing had become a 
 highly developed technical practice, and that aulos 
 virtuosi achieved great reputations and were highly 
 esteemed. 
 
 This leads us to the question of instrumental practice 
 in general, the brief consideration of which is our next 
 task. 
 
 VI 
 
 One of the most ancient musical controversies was 
 that regarding the respective merits of wind and string 
 instruments. How it resulted in a most important vic- 
 tory for the latter is revealed in the partly mythical 
 story of Marsyas, a Phrygian satyr. According to this 
 legend Marsyas found upon the banks of a stream a 
 flute, probably the double flute, which Athena had 
 thrown away because she feared that blowing upon 
 it would injure her beauty. Being a satyr, and there- 
 fore not so sensitive upon the point of personal attrac- 
 tions as the goddess, Marsyas set himself to learn the 
 use of the instrument, and, in course of time, grew 
 
 121 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 so proficient that he challenged Apollo to a contest, 
 the god to use the lyre, the satyr the pipe. Apollo 
 played a simple melody, but Marsyas, following, exe- 
 cuted a number of variations upon this tune which 
 compelled the judge to admit that in the first test vic- 
 tory belonged to the satyr. Apollo then played again, 
 accompanying himself with the voice, and this Marsyas 
 could not surpass; he objected, however, on the ground 
 that the voice and the lyre were two instruments, while 
 he was using only one. Apollo retorted that Marsyas 
 used both mouth and fingers for his pipe, hence he 
 had the right to use his mouth as well. The judges 
 agreed with Apollo and the second test was awarded 
 to the god. But when the third test came Apollo 
 scorned to use the voice, and burst out in such a strain 
 of melody as even Mount Olympus had never heard 
 before, the music of the- immortals which no satyr 
 could hope to compass. Marsyas was flayed alive by 
 Apollo as a sufficient declaration of his defeat. 
 
 Thus the myth. It has its reflection in fact. For the 
 ancient national music of the lyre prevailed in Greece 
 over the foreign Phrygian double flute and the latter 
 was regarded as a barbarian instrument, finding its 
 place only in vintage festivals, bacchanalian orgies, 
 and, finally, into the chorus of the tragic drama. 
 
 The lyre and the aulos, then, are the arch-types of 
 the two great classes of instruments — string and wind 
 — which the Greeks used. That there were a great 
 number of varieties we gather from their representa- 
 tion on monuments, vases, etc., and from the writings 
 of classic authors. Taking the string instruments as 
 the oldest — ^for mythical references to these go farthest 
 back into antiquity — we find first the lyre, and then its 
 more graceful sister, the kithara (or phorminx) , which 
 were in common use in the north, on the islands and 
 the coast of Asia Minor. The lyre, originally made of 
 the shell of a tortoise, had an arched soundbox, while 
 
 122 * 
 
Thd Gpntes|,;l}fitween Apollo and Marysas 
 AncrniA Greek' frieze afteti Baumelster 
 
GREEK INSTRUMENTS 
 
 the kithara's was flat; the latter's body was larger and 
 more angular in shape. Both had originally four, sub- 
 sequently seven, strings, which were added to in later 
 periods till eleven was reached. These were fastened 
 in a base at the lower end of the instrument and ran 
 across a 'bridge' to the cross-piece connecting the two 
 arms, which acted also as tuning peg. The sounding 
 board had in the centre a resonance opening. 
 
 The Asiatic form of kithara became popular 
 throughout Greece as a consequence of the work of 
 Terpander's school and attained the leading rank as 
 the Greek concert instrument, employed by profes- 
 sional players exclusively, while the primitive lyre 
 was relegated to the use of amateurs and domestic 
 purposes. With its full complement of strings music 
 in all the modes could be played upon it without espe- 
 cially tuning the individual strings. The relative pitch 
 of the string was based on the Dorian mode in the 
 middle octave (e to e'). but for greater brilliancy of 
 effect virtuosi preferred the higher transpositions, so 
 that finally the instrument was accordingly tuned as 
 follows : 
 
 By special technical practice the higher octave (flag- 
 eolet) could also be produced. The manner of playing 
 was probably as follows : The left arm held the instru- 
 ment close to the body by means of a sUng, while the 
 right, by means of a plectrum with arrow-shaped 
 ends, plucked the strings from the outside. This left 
 the fingers of the left hand free to touch the strings 
 from the body side. It is thought that this was done as 
 accompaniment (in unison) to the voice, while the 
 right played the solo selections, interludes, etc. 
 
 Most prominent among other forms of string instru- 
 
 123 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 ments was the magadis, a larger harp-like instrument 
 with twenty strings, which was played without plec- 
 trum, and, if we read ancient writers correctly, in oc- 
 taves.* Likewise the barbiton (similar to the kithara), 
 the harp-like pectis, simikion, and epigoneion, and the 
 lute-like pandura and nabla (of archaic origin), were 
 played without plectrum, as indeed the lyre and kithara 
 were also played in earliest times. The harp, though 
 known to the Greeks, was not used by them. There 
 only remains to mention the monochord, an instrument 
 of one string stretched over a soundbox, which could 
 be arbitrarily divided by a movable 'bridge.' It was 
 used purely for experimental purposes, as we have al- 
 ready seen. Later it was constructed with several 
 strings in order to demonstrate the consonance of in- 
 tervals; in modern times it became the basis from 
 which the clavichord, and finally the piano, was 
 evolved. 
 
 The chief Greek wind instrument, as already indi- 
 cated, was the aulos, or flute — not, however, a flute in 
 the modern sense, but a reed instrument resembling an 
 oboe, and having a double reed. It was often used in 
 pairs, of equal intonation, but of different size, the 
 larger instrument playing the soli, the smaller the ac- 
 companiment. The aulos had as many as fifteen or six- 
 teen holes, but not sufficient to produce all the chro- 
 matic degrees of the scale, which, as well as the differ- 
 ent genera, were produced by half stops and similar 
 technical manipulations. There were also rings at- 
 tached near the holes, by the turning of which the pitch 
 could be altered. Overblowing was also practised, by 
 means of a small hole (syrinx) near the mouthpiece. 
 There was a whole family of auloi corresponding to the 
 varying ranges of the human voice. The entire com- 
 pass from the lowest note of the bass aulos to the high- 
 est of the soprano was three octaves. It is recorded 
 
 * Hence the expression 'magadizing* for singing in octaves. 
 
 124 
 
GREEK INSTRUMENTS 
 
 that auloi were tuned differently according to the vari- 
 ous modes, and that players were usually equipped 
 with an entire set of seven. 
 
 Other wind instruments uised by the Greeks were 
 the Libyan flute (played sideways), the elymos, and 
 the syrinx — the familiar 'pipes of Pan' — consisting of 
 a number of rush reeds of different lengths fastened to- 
 gether with wax. Trumpets, straight (sapinx) and 
 crooked horn-like ikeras), were also common as in- 
 struments of war and priestly ceremony. The former 
 variety even attained the rank of a contest (agonistic) 
 instrument. A female exponent of Sapinx playing is 
 recorded in the person of Aglais, the daughter of Me- 
 
 galocles. 
 
 ******* 
 
 A few words will suffice to indicate the nature of 
 Greek musical notation. Instrumental notation dif- 
 fered from vocal and was of earlier origin. Charac- 
 ters of archaic form (Phoenician) were used to indicate 
 the notes, though not in a definite alphabetic order. 
 They are also used in inverted or distorted forms to 
 indicate minute variations, i. e., the three notes of a 
 Pyknon (the short step of the tetrachord) were indi- 
 cated by a certain sign in different positions, thus: 
 r", L» s^d "1. I^ vocal notation the regular Greek al- 
 phabet was employed from A to O to represent the 
 notes of the middle octave (including every step neces- 
 sary to the production of the various modes and 
 genera. The higher octave was indicated by an 'oc- 
 tava sign.' 
 
 Rhythm was usually not noted, being determined by 
 the metre of the verse, but a code which determined 
 the proportion of sound duration was sometimes used. 
 The norm or unit in that system was denoted by the 
 absence of any sign, its double by — ^its triple by J, 
 quadruple by y , and quintuple by uj. Rests were 
 indicated thus: A All of these signs were, like our 
 
 125 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 modern notes, set over the text. While the system was 
 thoroughly worked out in its technical details, its cum- 
 bersomeness would suggest that in practice it was of 
 less use than in theoretical exposition. No wonder, 
 then, that few compositions were, as far as we know, 
 actually written down, and of those only six are pre- 
 served to us. These are as follows: 
 
 1. The beginning of the first Pythic ode of Pindar. 
 
 2. Three hymns of Mesomedes ('To the Muse,' 'To Helios,' 
 and 'To Nemesis') discovered by Vincenzo Galilei (see Chap. 
 IX). 
 
 3. Some small instrumental exercises, analyzed by Beller- 
 mann (1841). 
 
 4. The Epitaph of Seikilos (discovered 1883). 
 
 5. Two complete Apollo Hymns of the second century B. C, 
 found chiselled in stone in the Athenian treasury at Delphi. 
 
 6. A Fragment of the first Stasimon from Euripides' 
 •Orestes' (found 1892). 
 
 The Hymn to the Muse by Mesomedes (No. 2) is reproduced 
 at the end of this article. 
 
 This necessarily brief sketch will have acquainted 
 the reader with the most salient facts concerning Greek 
 music — ^lost as an art, but perpetuated as a science. 
 Many volumes have been written upon the subject, but 
 much more than these facts cannot possibly be adduced 
 except by long and arduous study. For our present 
 purpose may it suffice to convey to the reader that here 
 for the first time music has attained the dignity of an 
 art, with all its aesthetic, emotional and moral signifi- 
 cance, with its complicated theory, its sophisticated 
 technique, consciously employed to give pleasure and 
 to uplift the mind of man. Mechanical limitations and 
 peculiar conditions prevented the development of this 
 art in the modem sense, but its theory has without 
 doubt given a definite direction to modern music. Not 
 only the musical teaching of the early church fathers, 
 but the speculations of theorists down to comparatively 
 
 126 
 
NOTATION 
 
 modern times, and the principles of the Renaissance 
 masters were based on those of the Greeks, however 
 much misunderstood. Perhaps it is not out of place to 
 recall, in conclusion, how modern composers have 
 been inspired by the stories of classic antiquity and be- 
 guiled by the music of Greek poetry. Modern music. 
 
 Ifymn to the Muse 
 
 by Mesomedes 
 
 *y-^[k ^1 ^'f — r--f — r--f — ^- 
 
 // 
 
 Onrasins..,. 
 
 fr ir r 
 
 "T^-n 
 
 /l" — 77^77^ -L I l-....r..-i=TT-- 
 
 
 ' . [ 
 
 -■ H 
 
 A - « - Se MoS - <ri iu>i <pl - Xi; ^X - tttis d'4 
 
 I' m"^ m m V^ _ _ W 
 
 /*1JS KOT- 
 
 ap - x'"' "■^ - PV S^ ffdv- dir^ aiK-iri - av ( - /ihs ippi - vas So ■ 
 ~ It 
 
 yd T«. KaX-X(-o - TTci-a <ro - $4 Mow 
 
 Toviyb-ve. Aii-Xt-e, Vial-iv Ei im - vm irhp - t - ari /wi. 
 
 disconnected from aU that may have been the music 
 of the older nations of antiquity, is a lineal descendant 
 of the music of the Greeks. 
 
 C. S. 
 
 127 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE AGE OF PLAIN-SONG 
 
 Music in the Roman empire — Sources of early Christian music; the 
 hymns of St. Ambrose — Hebrew traditions — Psalmody, responses, antiphons; 
 the liturgy; the Gregorian tradition; the antiphonary and the gradual; se- 
 quences and tropes — Ecclesiastical modes; early notation. 
 
 From the point of view of the musical historian the 
 dominant note of civilization at the opening of the 
 Christian era was the all-pervading influence of Hel- 
 lenistic culture. It is well to remember, however, that 
 this influence was more in form than in content. Greek 
 art was no longer the pure, bright flame that lighted 
 the world so gloriously in the age of Pericles. Its blaze 
 had become dull and lifeless; elements foreign to the 
 fuel that had fed it in the classic age had been brought 
 to it by the softly sensuous fingers of the Orient and the 
 rough, unsympathetic hands of Rome, Hellenic art 
 at the opening of the Christian era resembled that of 
 Periclean Athens as little as the pseudo-classic archi- 
 tecture of the Italian Renaissance resembled the crown- 
 ing glories of the Acropolis. The serene, clear, intel- 
 lectual aestheticism of Greece had degenerated into the 
 coarse sensuality of the pagan Latins and the sterile 
 dilettantism of the theistic peoples of the Orient. 
 Neither Latins nor Orientals were at all capable of 
 understanding or assimilating it. Its joyous, essen- 
 tially Aryan paganism was as foreign to the Semitic 
 temperament as its lucid intellectuality was impossible 
 to the turgid Roman mind. 
 
 128 
 
MUSIC IN THE ROMAN EMPIRE 
 
 We have then at the beginning of the Christian era 
 a veneer of Greek culture covering a gross materialism 
 in the "West and a decadent, mystic symbolism in the 
 East. Into this situation was born the new cult with its 
 utter negation of everything the ancient world, pagan 
 or theistic, held precious. Christianity from the be- 
 ginning was at war with its environment — Greek, Ro- 
 man, and Hebraic. Though its roots lay in Jewish 
 philosophy, its pessimistic attitude toward the world, 
 its view of life as an evil, poisoned condition, was di- 
 rectly opposed to the spirit of a people with whom, 
 as Renan says, 'the evils of life were never chronic 
 complaints' ('pour qui les maux de la vie ne devien- 
 nent pas des maladies chroniques') . Its opposition to 
 all the teachings and practices of paganism was, of 
 course, absolute and uncompromising. 
 
 Nevertheless, Christianity absorbed from its environ- 
 ment the material of its ritual as inevitably as the tree 
 draws nurture from the soil and atmosphere that un- 
 derlies and surrounds it. That it absorbed those ele- 
 ments unconsciously, even unwillingly, goes a long way 
 to explain our ignorance of the manner in which the 
 liturgical jtnusic of the Church developed. It seems 
 practically certain that among the most devout early 
 Christians music was looked upon with suspicion, and 
 its use, especially in connection with the worship of 
 God, was probably discouraged as far as possible. Even 
 as late as the fourth century we find a Syrian monk 
 warning one of his brethren that we should approach 
 God with sighs and tears, with reverence and humility, 
 and not with song. When, through the inevitable pres- 
 sure of environment, music had become an integral 
 part of the Christian ritual, the Church fathers, with 
 characteristic naivete, completely ignored the source 
 from which it was drawn, and, in what is obviously 
 simple faith, attributed to it a divine origin. 'Our 
 singing,' says St. John Chrysostom, 'is only an echo, an 
 
 129 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 imitation of that of the angels. Music was invented in 
 heaven. Around and above us sing the angels. If man 
 is musical it is by a revelation of the Holy Ghost; the 
 singer is inspired from on high.' St. Athanasius, St. 
 Ambrose, Justin Martyr, St. Basil, St. Benedict, and 
 other early fathers talk in the same strain. John de 
 Muris, more historical and less mystical, can find no 
 more definite origin for liturgical music than a vague 
 tradition.* 
 
 With those who were practically eye-witnesses to the 
 growth of early Church music so serenely blind to the 
 influences that determined its course, the task of the 
 modern historian in reconstructing those influences 
 becomes practically impossible. If, however, we un- 
 derstand clearly the conditions under which liturgical 
 music took shape we can formulate a theoretical 
 sketch of its history, which is probably not far from 
 the truth. In this connection it will help us consider- 
 ably if we remember that during the early centuries 
 of the Christian era the Roman church was far from 
 being the dominant and unifying factor which it later 
 became, and that the great institution to which we are 
 wont to refer simply as 'the church' resulted from the 
 confluence of many independent streams, and not from 
 the expansion of any single one. These streams were 
 divided, so to speak, between two main watersheds, 
 one of which was Asia Minor and the other Italy. In 
 Asia Minor the church was surrounded by a Semitic 
 civilization shot through with Hellenic elements; in 
 Italy it grew up in an environment of Grseco-Roman 
 culture. 
 
 It might be well to take a glance here at the state of 
 music in Rome at the beginning of the Christian era. 
 Roman music previous to the conquest of Greece 
 
 * 'Auctoritatem ... In Ecclesia cantandi causa devotionis traxit a canta 
 religiosoniin antlquoruiu tarn in novo quam in vetere testamento.' — John 
 de Muris, Sum. Mas. 
 
 130 
 
MUSIC IN THE ROMAN EMPIRE 
 
 (146 B, C.) had borrowed its forms from the Etruscans 
 and the Greeks. Etruscan influences were probably 
 predominant in the early centuries of the Republic* 
 The nature of these influences is not known to us. It 
 would seem that the Etruscans were originally a Greek 
 race, and the fountain-head of their musical art was 
 consequently Hellenic. But they were, as their vases 
 show, a race dowered with artistic ideals and genuine 
 creative impulses, and they must have modelled their 
 musical inheritance into something new, characteristic, 
 and beautiful. But, if we are to believe Dionysius, 
 Strabo, and other Roman writers who have touched 
 on the subject, we must conclude that the Romans 
 merely imitated such music of the Etruscans as was 
 useful for religious and military purposes, choosing, 
 presumably, the cruder forms of the art. We may ac- 
 cept this conclusion all the more readily since we know 
 that the Romans, even down to Imperial times, re- 
 mained obtuse and obtrusive Philistines. 
 
 It does not seem that the Romans borrowed much di- 
 rectly from Greece until after Greece became a Roman 
 province. They were not, in fact, interested at all in 
 art. But, after repeated conquests had made them rich 
 and luxurious, they began to cultivate — or rather pat- 
 ronize — art as a sort of fashionable and expensive lux- 
 ury. The result was a gradual growth, among the leis- 
 ure classes in Rome, of a very real literary and aesthetic 
 taste. By the time of Augustus Rome was able to pro- 
 duce such excellent imitators of Greek models as Vir- 
 gil, Horace, Ovid, and Catullus. In music, however, the 
 imperial people never rose so high. Hellenic music 
 had already degenerated when Rome fell under its 
 influence. 'Besides pantomime with chorus,' says Ge- 
 vaert, 'Greek musicians brought to Rome only the in- 
 strumental solo and the song with kithara or lyre ac- 
 
 * Cf. strabo, De Bella Punieo, Livy, Bk. sxxix. 
 
 131 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 companiment.' * This branch of the art flourished 
 apace in Rome, where, however, like Italian opera in 
 later centuries, it became distorted into a craze for 
 meaningless virtuosity. We know less about the music 
 itself than we know about the famous kithara players 
 who were the favorites of emperors and were accorded 
 the honors and dignity of princes. History speaks to 
 us about Tigellius, the friend of Augustus, and Mesom- 
 edes, of Crete, the intimate of Hadrian. Nero gained 
 a humorous immortality by his pretensions as a singer 
 and kithara player. The story of his journey through 
 Greece, where he won the kithara prize at the Olympic 
 games and defeated in public competition the most 
 famous performers in every city he visited, is surely 
 one of the most ludicrous narratives in all history. 
 
 Until the third century A. D. the kitharoedic chant 
 was purely Hellenic, as we might surmise from the 
 names of its most famous exponents, such as Terpnos, 
 Menecrates, Diodorus, Chrysogones, Pollion, Echion, 
 and Glaphyros. In the second century Ptolemy, writ- 
 ing his 'Harmonics,' founded his system of tones and 
 modes on the practice of the kithara and lyre players.f 
 Practically all of the pieces which have come down to 
 us from the Graeco-Roman period, and which we have 
 noted in the last chapter, belong to the literature of the 
 kithara. The kitharoedic chants were narratives in the 
 style of Timotheus, or Ijrics, chiefly hymns to some 
 divinity. These compositions were not in strophic 
 form. The melody was divided into sections of un- 
 equal length (commata) and varied more or less from 
 one end of the poem to the other. Until the beginning 
 of the fourth century the texts were usually in Greek. 
 The Latin kitharoedic songs, such as those of Horace 
 and Catullus, were scarcely heard except at banquets 
 and private reunions. Greek was, indeed, the prevail- 
 
 * Ft. Aug. Gevaert: La Milopie antique dans le chant de I'iglise latlne. 
 t See Bellermaiin and Vincent : Anonymi scriptio de musica, Berlin, 1841, 
 
 132 
 
SOURCES OF EARLY CHRISTIAN MUSIC 
 
 ing musical language, as we may leam from Vitru- 
 vius, who prefaces to the chapter on music in his work 
 on Architecture a warning that musical theory is prac- 
 tically a sealed book to those who do not know Greek.* 
 ' After the removal of the seat of empire to Byzantium 
 in 330 A. D., the use of Greek disappeared, and with it 
 the use of musical notation by means of Greek letters. 
 The transmission of music then became oral and the 
 art of the kithara song and its accompaniments gradu- 
 ally vanished.f 
 
 II 
 
 Now the founders of Christianity were Jews, and 
 Oriental influences were never absent from the church, 
 even in Rome. Furthermore the apostles of Christian- 
 ity in Rome were humble, untutored men, and the ma- 
 jority of their converts were drawn from the same class 
 — the class which in all ages has naturally taken refuge 
 in any creed which contradicts the views and practices 
 of its masters and oppressors. Christ's message of 
 hope to the humble in spirit came home first to the 
 humble in material possessions. 'Deposuit potentes de 
 sede et exaltavit humiles.' For three centuries the 
 Christians in Italy were subjected to constant oppres- 
 sion and often to fiercely violent persecution. Their 
 rites were performed in dark and secret places and, 
 presumably, without any noise that could be avoided. 
 Under the circumstances one is tempted to conclude 
 that music was severely ignored by the first Christians 
 in Rome. They had every reason to avoid it. It was 
 . likely to attract undesirable attention; it was associated 
 primarily in their minds with the sensual orgies of their 
 
 * Book V, Chap. 4. 
 
 t For a fuller discussion of Grseco-Boman music see Fr. Aug. Gevaert, 
 La milopie antique dans le chant de I'iglise lattne (Ghent, 1895) ; Com- 
 barieu, Histoire de la musique, Vol. I, Chap. XIII (Paris, 1913); Charles 
 Bumey, 'History of Music,' Vol. I. 
 
 133 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 pagan oppressors, and, finally, the first Christians 
 themselves were not of the class likely to possess much 
 musical culture. Nevertheless, it is practically certain 
 that they intoned some of their services in a simple, dis- 
 creet way. They must have chanted their psalms, at 
 least, probably as the Hebrews did. This chant, it 
 would perhaps be safe to assume, was responsorial and 
 consisted of a low, more or less monotonous, recitative. 
 
 By the time the Edict of Milan (313 A, D.) struck off 
 the fetters that bound Christianity the Church had al- 
 ready gathered to her bosom many of the most influen- 
 tial and cultured Roman citizens. Their advent must 
 have changed gradually the whole complexion of the 
 Roman church. With their cultivated taste for art they 
 probably furnished the prime impulse toward the aes- 
 theticism which gradually came to be a distinguishing 
 feature of the church ritual. After the Edict of Milan 
 the church jumped almost at a bound to a position of 
 social and political influence which soon became one of 
 social and political predominance. The most influen- 
 tial of its members no longer came from the lowly and 
 oppressed, but from the rich and powerful. Every rea- 
 son that had operated against the use of music in the 
 primitive church had disappeared, and with it had dis- 
 appeared for a time the Oriental tendencies which the 
 founders of the church had consciously or uncon- 
 sciously incorporated with it. There is little doubt that 
 during the third and fourth centuries Grseco-Roman 
 culture penetrated to the innermost shrine of Western 
 Christianity and remained an active agent in the for- 
 mulation of liturgical music long after the Orient had 
 again become a predominant influence through the re- 
 moval of the seat of empire to Byzantium. 
 
 It is unfortunately not within our power to indicate 
 the point at which the Grseco-Roman kitharcedic chant 
 began to influence Christian religious music, nor do 
 the relative proportions of a general history permit us 
 
 134 
 
THE HYMNS OF ST. AMBROSE 
 
 to study the question here. However, it is sufficient for 
 us to know that the kitharoedic chant was the direct 
 ancestor of the Christian hymnody in the West. 
 'Among various kinds of pieces of which the Roman 
 antiphonary is composed,' says Gevaert, 'none is 
 known by literary documents to be so old as the stro- 
 phic hymnody; from the musical point of view it marks 
 the transition from the vocal melopseia of antiquity to 
 the liturgical chant properly so called.' We find this 
 transition fully accomplished in the hymns of St. Am- 
 brose (d. 397), who is unquestionably the most striking 
 and influential figure in early liturgical music. Ge- 
 vaert aptly calls him the 'Terpander of Western Chris- 
 tianity.' His works are full of reference to music, many 
 of which are naively charming. For example, he 
 writes: 'The angels praise the Lord, the powers of 
 heaven sing psalms unto him, and even before the very 
 beginning of the world the cherubim and seraphim 
 sang with sweet voice Holy, Holy, Holy!' He mentions 
 the music of the spheres and recalls that it has been 
 said the axle of heaven itself turned with a perpetual 
 sweet sound that might be heard in the uttermost parts 
 of the earth where there are certain secrets of Nature; 
 that the wild beasts and birds might he soothed with 
 the delight of voices blending. Even more practical, 
 he points out that those things we wish well to remem- 
 ber we are accustomed to sing, for that which is sung 
 stays the better in our memories. His hymns producecT 
 a great effect upon St. Augustine, who wrote of them 
 in his 'Confessions' in terms almost extravagant; and a 
 whole century later Cassiodorus constantly cites St. 
 Ambrose and bears witness to the wide and everlast- 
 ing nature of his influence on Christian hymnody. 
 
 Six hymns which have come down to us are attrib- 
 uted with certainty to this gifted saint. They are the 
 Deus creator omnium. Jam surgit hora tertia, Sterne 
 rerum conditor, Veni redemptor gentium, llluxit orbi 
 
 135 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 jam dies, and Bis ternas horas explicans. Probably 
 also he was the author of O lux beata Trinitas, His est 
 dies verus Dei, Splendor paternae glorias, and Mterna 
 Christi munera. The melodic forms of these hymns are 
 borrowed directly from the Greeks and Romans. 
 Stripped of their melismas their primitive contours are 
 easily recognizable, and their structure is thoroughly 
 in accord with the modal theory of the classic Greeks. 
 All of these hymns which seem to be the most ancient 
 belong to one of the principal kitharcedic modes — the 
 Dorian, lastian, or ^Eolian, The Ambrosian hymns in 
 the Dorian mode have the same melodic texture as the 
 hymn to Helios and the main part of the song to the 
 Muse (see pp. 126-127 above) . Hymns after the manner 
 of Ambrose in the lastian and JEolian modes are fre- 
 quent in the Catholic hymnody." 
 
 The Graeco-Roman complexion of the Ambrosian 
 hymns is still further evident in their metrical form. 
 The old ecclesiastical hymns composed in iambic dim- 
 eters and ascribed to Bishop Ambrose,' says Rie- 
 mann, 'are still ftrmly founded upon the antique art, 
 as they respect absolutely the quantity of the syllables 
 and introduce long syllables and short ones only where 
 it is in accordance with the laws of classic poetry.' f 
 The eight syllable iambi of the Ambrosian verse be- 
 came extremely popular in ecclesiastical hymnody, and 
 the Breviary, as it is to-day, contains many hymns in 
 that measure. But this was not the only metrical form 
 of classic Rome that became incorporated in the liturgy 
 of the Church. Vanantius Fortunatus in the sixth cen- 
 tury introduced the trochaic tetrameter, which was a 
 favorite popular verse among the ancient Romans, and 
 still survives in the rhythm of the Roman saltarello and 
 the Neapolitan tarantella. The elegant Sapphic strophe, 
 so dear to Latin lyricists, made its appearance subse- 
 
 " See Gevaert; Op. cit. 
 
 t Hugo Riemann : Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, I K 
 
 136 
 
HEBREW TRADITIONS 
 
 quent to the Carlovingian epoch. As long as Latin 
 prosody remained dominant the ecclesiastical hymns 
 were more or less metrical, but as literary Latin passed 
 into desuetude these chants lost their isochronous 
 rhythm. At the beginning of the eighth century the 
 vogue of metrical verse had already passed. With it 
 passed, too, the classic melopaeia which had gradually 
 become enriched by accessory inflexions.* 
 
 There was quite a large school of. hymn writers in 
 the Ambrosian style, among whom may be mentioned 
 especially St. Augustine (350-430), St. Paulinus of Nola 
 (ca. 431), the Spanish poet Prudentius (fourth cen- 
 tury) ,t Sedulius (tifth century), Ennodius and Venan- 
 tius Fortunatus (sixth century). The style spread rap- 
 idly from Milan into the different western provinces of 
 the Roman empire. A text of the time of Sidonius 
 Apollinaris (second half of the fifth century) tells us 
 that at the feast of Christmas all the churches of Gaul 
 and Italy resounded to the hymn Veni creator gentium, 
 and Rhabanus Maurus, bishop of Mayence in the mid- 
 dle of the ninth century, tells us that the Ambrosian 
 hymns were then in use in all the churches of the 
 West.t Further proof of their wide prevalence is fur- 
 nished by the rules of St. Benedict and Aurelian of 
 Aries (first half of sixth century) . For many centuries, 
 however, they were frowned upon by Rome. The 
 Council of Braga (563) expressly excluded from the 
 divine office all chants in verse and all texts not taken 
 from the sacred scriptures. Three centuries later the 
 deacon Amalarius, charged by Louis the Pious with 
 regulating the chants of the office for all the churches 
 of the Prankish empire, leaves hymns completely aside 
 
 * For a detailed discussion of the metrical forms of ecclesiastical 
 hTmnody see Rlemann: Bandbuch der Musikgeschichte, P. 
 
 t Prudentius was the author of two collections of hymns, the Kathe- 
 meTinon and the Peristephanon, which were first adopted by the Spanish 
 church and later introduced to Rome. 
 
 t De init. cler., in Migue, Patr. hat., evil, 362. 
 
 137 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 in conformity with the usage of Rome at that time. In 
 fact, the local rite of Rome had not yet welcomed 
 hymns as late as the beginning of the twelfth century. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Priority is given to the Ambrosian hymns in this dis- 
 cussion, not because they are the most ancient forms of 
 liturgical chant, hut because they form the most easily 
 demarcable point of transition from Graeco-Roman 
 music to Christian ecclesiastical music. The most an- 
 cient forms of the liturgy undoubtedly had their genesis 
 in the Orient. There, of course, the influence of Greek 
 music was also active, though to what extent it affected 
 the Hebrew traditions we cannot even surmise. We 
 find, too, the vogue of the kitharoedic chant even 
 greater among the Roman citizens of the Orient than 
 among the inhabitants of Italy. The former carried 
 their passion for this form of expression to the extent 
 of engraving the songs with their melodies on funeral 
 monuments. It may again be remarked, however, that 
 the first Christians were not of the class likely to be in- 
 fluenced easily by extraneous culture. Acquainted with 
 foreign music they undoubtedly were. The apostles, 
 for instance, speak of the Greek 'zither' as a familiar 
 instrmnent.* But this acquaintance was in all proba- 
 bility superficial. Humble and uneducated for the 
 most part, those pioneers of a new cult were of the sort 
 with whom custom and tradition die hard. They were 
 reared in the atmosphere of the synagogue; and it must 
 be remembered that they were not iconoclasts of the 
 Hebrew faith, but rather professed reformers and puri- 
 fiers of it. The Temple of Solomon, the Ark of the 
 Covenant, the patriarchs and prophets were subjects 
 as sacred to them as they were to older generations of 
 the children of Israel. Their quarrel was not with the 
 
 * See Paul I; Cor. x1y.7; John Apocal., v.8, xiv.2, xy.2. 
 
 138 
 
PSALMODY, RESPONSES, ANTIPHONS 
 
 Jews, but with such Jews as refused to recognize their 
 new king. While, therefore, they had every reason for 
 avoiding the music of the Pagan Greeks and Romans, 
 they had no reason whatever for abandoning that 
 which had been handed down to them from David. 
 They certainly took over the texts of the Old Testament 
 psalmody, and it is a natural assumption that with 
 them they adopted the music to which these texts were 
 sung. We may conjecture with some plausibility that 
 the psalmodic solo, responsorial chant, and antiphonal 
 chant — all ancient Hebrew liturgical forms — ^passed di- 
 rectly from the Temple and Synagogue into the first 
 Christian communities, with such minor changes as* 
 may have been necessitated by the new ritual and at- 
 tendant upon the transference of its conduct from 
 trained cantors to untrained laymen. 
 
 The psalmodic solo has no special significance in the 
 development of the Christian liturgy. Of more impor- 
 tance is the responsorial chant, which consists of a solo 
 interrupted periodically by the voice of the people.* 
 It is very probable that this form of psalmody was in 
 use among the first Christians, though we have no di- 
 rect evidence on the point. We learn, however, from 
 church historians that psalms were sung in this fashion 
 at Alexandria in the time of Bishop Athanasius in the 
 early part of the fourth century. The antiphonal 
 chant, which is the most interesting and important of 
 liturgical forms, is of extreme antiquity. David, we 
 know, divided the singers of the Temple into two 
 choirs. Whether this form passed directly and with- 
 out interruption from the Temple and Synagogue into 
 the religious services of the first Christians we have no 
 means of knowing. It was, however, adopted at a very 
 early date by Christian communities in the Orient. 
 Eusebius, bishop of Cesarea (third century) repro- 
 
 " A typical example is the recurrence of the phrase 'Quoniam in 
 atemum misericordia ejus' in the 135th psalm. 
 
 139 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 duces a text of Philo in which occurs the following de- 
 scription: 'Suddenly all rose on both sides . . . and 
 formed two choirs, men and women. Each choir chose 
 its coryphee and soloist . . . then they sang to God 
 hymns of different melodies and metres, sometimes to- 
 gether and sometimes answering each other in suitable 
 manner.' As showing the early expansion of this style 
 of singing throughout the Christian world we may 
 quote from a letter of St. Basil (fourth century) to the 
 inhabitants of Nova Cesarea. 'The people rise in the 
 night,' he writes, 'and go to the house of prayer; when 
 they have prayed they pass to the psalms. Sometimes 
 they divide into two alternate parts, sometimes a solo- 
 ist sings and all answer; and having thus passed the 
 night in divers psalms they intone all together, as one 
 voice and one heart, the penitential psalm. ... If it is 
 for this reason [the organization of the psalmody] you 
 wish to separate from me you must also separate from 
 the Egyptians and Lybians, from the inhabitants of 
 Thebes, Palestine, Arabia, Phcenicia, Syria, and the 
 banks of the Euphrates — in a word, from all those who 
 hold in honor vigils and psalms performed in com- 
 mon.' It may be remarked that the antiphon originally 
 was merely the alternate singing of two choirs. Later 
 it came to mean the solo refrain intoned by the high 
 priest before the biblical psalm or canticle and re- 
 peated by the choir when the psalm or canticle is fin- 
 ished. According to the rules of St. Benedict this solo 
 refrain was intended to give (imponere) the melody 
 to the singers. Musically, says Gevaert, it forms the 
 introduction and finale of the psalmodic chant to which 
 it is bound by a community of mode. It probably took 
 the place of an earlier instrumental introduction and 
 finale, as, for some reason or reasons upon which it is 
 idle to speculate, instruments were excluded from the 
 services of the primitive church. 
 It was in the monasteries of the East, of Syria and 
 
 140 
 
PSALMODY, RESPONSES, ANTIPHONS 
 
 Egypt, that the forms of the liturgy first began to talce 
 shape, and in Antioch and Alexandria there developed 
 schools of singing which were to the Greek churches of 
 the East what the schola cantorum was to the Latin 
 churches of the seventh and eighth centuries. In the 
 fourth century, as we may gather from the canons of 
 the council of Laodicea, they had already trained sing- 
 ers in the churches of Syria, and St. Augustine speaks 
 of the singing of St. Athanasius as if the latter must 
 have had a careful schooling in the art. Silvia, the 
 Gallic pilgrim, mentions the singing of antiphons and 
 psalms in the church at Alexandria (385-88). In the 
 fifth century, as we learn from a letter of Sidonius 
 Apollinaris, Syrian cantors were used in Italian 
 churches. 
 
 The prejudice against Pagan music, which must have 
 excluded all Greek or Grseco-Roman influences from 
 the Christian services of apostolic times, proved hard 
 to kill. We find it cropping out even in Clement of 
 Alexandria, who admits only 'modest and decent har- 
 monies' and excludes harmonies that are "chromatic 
 and light, such as are used in the lascivious orgies of 
 courtesans.' By that time, however, the prejudice ap- 
 parently had become discriminating. The extraordi- 
 nary popularity of the kitharoedic songs was bound to 
 have its influence. The heresiarchs were not slow to 
 recognize the hold of profane melodies on the people, 
 and composed dogmatic chants to the melodies of pop- 
 ular songs, much in the manner of the Salvation Army 
 of our day, Arius, for instance, the great heresiarch 
 who was condemned by the council of Nicea (325), re- 
 produced in his Thalia the lascivious musical forms of 
 the Ionian Sotades — to the great scandal of Athanasius. 
 St. Ephraem (320-79), adopting the same idea, turned 
 the Syrians from the songs of Harmonius by writing 
 hymns in the Syrian language on the same melodies, 
 and Gregory of Nazianza (328-89) composed canticles 
 
 141 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 to take the place of the heterodox psalms of the ApoUi- 
 naiists. 
 
 While probably there was never any break in the 
 communication between the churches of the East and 
 those of the West, it is likely that they developed their 
 liturgical forms more or less independently until about 
 the middle of the fourth century. Then the floodgates 
 of Oriental influence seem to have been opened by St. 
 Hilarius and St. Ambrose. The former, who was bishop 
 of Poitiers, is said to have introduced into his church 
 the antiphonal and other forms of psalmody then prac- 
 tised in the churches of Asia, where he had lived in 
 exile for four years (356-60). He is supposed to have 
 introduced the Syrian hymnody into the Western 
 Church. 'Hymnorum carmine floruit primus,' Isidor 
 of Seville said of him. He is credited with having been 
 the pioneer of the metrical style of hymn known as 
 Ambrosian, though the three hymns from his pen which 
 have been preserved hardly bear out this contention. 
 They are crude in rhythm and not likely to have 
 served as models for the cultured Ambrose. From all 
 available evidence one is impelled to award to St. Am- 
 brose the honor of having first introduced antiphonal 
 psalmody to the West." Indeed there is little doubt that 
 he was the real founder of the Latin chant in general. 
 Ecclesiastical songs, as we have already seen, had al- 
 ready developed, both in the East and in the West, to 
 
 * Gerbert says of him: 'Qlud sacronim hymnorum in Ecclesia genus, 
 quod antiquisslmus in Eccleslse temporibus in usu fuit, in Oriente prseser- 
 tlm a S. Ephrem, inter Latinos a S. Amhrosio excultum, unde et Ambrosianl 
 dictl sunt hynmi , . . non cantum altemum, vel populi concentum primu(s) 
 indux(it) in ecclesiam Medlolanensem S. Amhrosinus, sed cantum modulatum 
 antea insuetum in ecclesia occldentall.' — De Canta et Uusica Sacra, I, p. 199. 
 The writings of the Fathers are full of fugitive, grateful references to the 
 musical achievements of Ambrose. Nor is his fame based on tradition, as in 
 the case of St. Gregory. Some of his most devoted admirers are near con- 
 temporaries. The references to his work are not usually inspired by a 
 clear understanding of just what he did for church music, but all together 
 they create a vivid impression that St. Ambrose is the biggest single figure 
 in the history of liturgical song. 
 
 142 
 
THE GREGORIAN TRADITION 
 
 something like a formal art; but Ambrose seems tq 
 have been the first to gather together the various ele- 
 ments composing it and lay the foundations of a 
 strictly ordered liturgy. From Milan the antiphonal 
 psalmody spread through all the churches of the West. 
 Even Rome, which until the twelfth century excluded 
 the Ambrosian hymns, adopted antiphonal . psalmody 
 in the time of Pope Celestine I (422-32) .* It is to Rome 
 that one must look for the subsequent development of 
 liturgical song; though until the time of the great 
 schism the formative influences were more Byzantine 
 than Latin. St. Leo the Great (440-61) established in 
 the immediate vicinity of the Basilica of St. Peter a 
 monastic community especially entrusted with the ser- 
 vice of the canonical hours, under the patronage of 
 Saints John and Paul, and this was followed in the sec- 
 ond half of the seventh century by the community of 
 St. Martin and, under Gregory III (731-41), by that of 
 St. Stephen. 
 
 IV 
 
 The complete collection of litirrgical chants upon 
 which Rome finally set her approval has been called 
 for ages the Antiphonarium Romanum; and this, as 
 Rome became the head of the organization of the 
 church, was adopted by all other branches in Western 
 Europe as the Bible, so to speak, of ecclesiastical song. 
 It was compiled from four collections of which the 
 Ambrosian was one, the others being the Gregorian, 
 the Galilean, and the Mozarabian or Spanish. The 
 principal manuscripts in these collections have been 
 reproduced in facsimile by the Benedictine monks of 
 Solesmes in their invaluable Paleographie musicale 
 (1889 et seq.). To quote from the introduction to this 
 magnificent series: 'The Gregorian, Ambrosian, Moz- 
 
 * According to some musical historians, Celestine Introduced the antiph- 
 onal psalmody from Poitiers. 
 
 143 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 arabian, and the little which remains to us of the 
 Galilean dialects, seem in fact to have one common 
 source, to have been derived from the same musical 
 language: the chant of the Latin church in its cradle. 
 That is at least the opinion to which we have been 
 brought by the examination of the manuscripts in the 
 libraries of our own monasteries and of those which we 
 have been able to consult elsewhere. Concerning the 
 similarities we can say modes and rhythms are the 
 same in the four varieties of chant. The melodic forms 
 present the same general character. . . . Moreover, in 
 these diverse musical dialects certain melodic types or 
 airs constantly recur which are always perfectly recog- 
 nizable, in spite of the differences resulting from the 
 peculiarities of style or character proper to each of 
 them. Among the Ambrosian and Gregorian these mu- 
 tual borrowings, these common heritages are especially 
 frequent.' 
 
 The history of these collections is extremely obscure. 
 No manuscripts are extant of earlier date than the 
 twelfth century. As to who actually, compiled the 
 Antiphonarium Romanum, a long-standing and gen- 
 erally accepted tradition ascribed it to St. Gregory the 
 Great (d. 604), but the validity of the tradition has 
 been attacked by a number of reputable and authori- 
 tative modern historians, conspicuous among whom is 
 Gevaert. Without entering into the merits of the con- 
 troversy we shall briefly indicate the earliest sources of 
 information on liturgical collections, following Gevaert 
 on the Gregorian tradition, not in parti pris, but be- 
 cause the tradition has been so long and so strongly 
 intrenched that it is more in need of examination than 
 of support. 
 
 The first mention of a collection of chants occurs 
 about the year 760 when Pope Paul I sent to King Pepin 
 an Antiphonal and a Responsal.* In the time of 
 
 * Regesta Pontiflcum Romanorum, JefSe, 2d ed,, Leipzig, 1881. 
 
 144 
 
THE GREGORIAN TRADITION 
 
 Charlemagne there existed a missal and breviary called! 
 Gregorian, as we gather from a letter addressed to the 
 emperor by Pope Hadrian. This is the eariiest men- 
 tion we find of the Gregorian tradition, and it is not 
 very enlightening. The first writer to give us much 
 information about the liturgy is Amalarius, who was 
 deacon of Metz under Louis the Pious. Aurelian of 
 Reome (ca. 859) classes the melodies according to the 
 order of the eight ecclesiastical modes, and Regino, 
 Abbe of Prum, toward the end of the same century 
 gives us in his Tonarius an extended catalogue of an- 
 thems and responses, accompanied by a neumatic no- 
 tation. We find again a hazy reference to Gregory by 
 Walafrid Strabo under Louis the Debonair, and it is 
 only when we come to the life of St. Gregory, written 
 by John the Deacon about 882, that we find an explicit 
 and unequivocal ascription of the existing collection of 
 liturgical chants to that pope.* 
 
 The scarcity of references to the Gregorian tradition 
 among writers prior to John the Deacon is curious. 
 Isidor of Seville and the Venerable Bede, both of whom 
 occupied themselves much with the liturgy, are silent 
 on the point; so is the Liber Pontificalis. Gregory's 
 own writings are singularly lacking in references to 
 music. His only utterance on the subject that has been 
 preserved to us is the decree of the Synod of 595 in 
 which he condemns the tendency of the priests to be 
 more preoccupied with the effect of their voices than 
 with the import of what they sing, and orders that they 
 confine themselves thenceforth by reciting the Gospel 
 in the celebration of the mass and leave the singing to 
 sub-deacons and clerics of inferior grade. This would 
 not of itself imply any great devotion on Gregory's 
 part to liturgical music, though the necessity of training 
 clerics of inferior grade to sing the services might 
 
 * Vita S. Gregoril Magni, in Mabillon, Acta sanctorum ordtnis benedicti, 
 Paris, 1668. 
 
 145 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 have suggested the founding of the Schola Cantorum 
 which is traditionally ascribed to him. It is pointed out 
 by Gevaert that the Antiphonarius Gregorianus does 
 not jBt the ecclesiastical calendar of the time of St. 
 Gregory, but belongs to the liturgical usage of Rome 
 about the year 750.* Duchesne credits the editing of the 
 Gregorian missal to Pope Hadrian during the first 
 years of Charlemagne's reign. The name Gregorian 
 may have reference to Gregory II (715-31) or, more 
 probably, to Gregory III. It is a fact that until the end 
 of the seventh or the beginning of the eighth century 
 the churches did not open on Friday, and it was not 
 allowed to celebrate mass on that day, because it coin- 
 cided with the Pagan feast of Jupiter {Jovis Dies). 
 Even as late as the end of the sixth century the cele- 
 bration of this festival was so common that it was sol- 
 emnly condemned by the Council of Narbonne (589). 
 By the eighth century, however, the last remains of 
 Paganism had so completely disappeared that the pro- 
 hibition of Friday services was removed by Pope Greg- 
 ory II, who ordained the celebration of the sacred rites 
 on the Fridays of Lent. Now the Gregorian Antipho- 
 nary contains a mass for each Friday in Lent, while 
 there is none in the Gelasian Missal of the seventh cen- 
 tury. If the mass is not a later interpolation, then the 
 Gregorian Antiphonary certainly could not have been 
 compiled before the time of Gregory II. 
 
 Many historical considerations lead Gevaert to credit 
 the completion and final formulation of liturgical 
 chant to the Hellenic popes of the seventh and eighth 
 centuries. Following the end of the Gothic kingdom 
 and with the dominance of the Byzantine emperors 
 begins the second period of church music in the West, 
 a period which shows every sign of the Oriental in- 
 fluence so powerful at Rome under the rule of the 
 exarchs of Ravenna. This influence is apparent not 
 
 * Les OTigines du chant liturgique de I'iglise latine. 
 
 146 
 
THE ANTIPHONARY AND THE GRADUAL 
 
 only in the more ornate form of the music, but in the 
 frequent use of the Greek language and in the importa- 
 tion of feasts foreign to the Roman rite. In the sev- 
 enth century four of the most ancient feasts of the Vir- 
 gin — the Purification, Annunciation, Assumption, and 
 Nativity — ^were brought from the Orient, and from the 
 same epoch dates the adoption at Rome of the feast 
 called the Exaltation of the Cross, which originated in 
 the Oriental church. 'By the seventh century,' says Ge- 
 vaert, *we are in the presence of an advanced art, con- 
 scious of its principles, with rules and formulas for 
 each class of composition.' Skilled interpreters had 
 been developed by the Schola Cantorum, and these, to- 
 gether with the Syrian monks who fled to Italy after 
 the Mussulman conquest, were the real authors of the 
 responses of the nocturnal office and the true chants of 
 the mass. The popes of the seventh century, most of 
 whom were themselves versed in the cantilena romana, 
 were particularly solicitous about the beauty and order 
 of the liturgy. To the eleven popes of Hellenic origin 
 who held the chair of St. Peter between 678 and 752 is 
 probably due the final development and perfection of 
 liturgical forms. Chief among them was Agathon 
 (678-681), who seems to have regulated or fixed defi- 
 nitely the texts of what in the eighth century was called 
 the Responsal, or actual Antiphonary, containing the 
 complete repertory of the office of iiie hours for the 
 entire year. The Venerable Bede says that Agathon 
 sent the leader of the Basilica singers to England to 
 organize that part of the ecclesiastical service accord- 
 ing to the usage of Rome. Leo II, we learn from the 
 papal chronicles, was very learned in the sacred chant, 
 as was also Sergius II. The latter, our authority thinks, 
 inspired the last work on the Roman Gradual, and was 
 the first to initiate the Roman singers in the doctrine 
 of the four double ecclesiastical modes, which later 
 writers, following the lead of Boethius, identified with 
 
 147 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the eight tonal steps of Aristoxenus, falsely attributed 
 to Ptolemy. The editing of that part of the Liber 
 Antiphonarius which has become our Gradual was 
 probably due to the Syrian pope, Gregory III, who was 
 very active in the promotion of liturgical music. 
 
 The Antiphonarium Romanum, or complete collec- 
 tion of liturgical chants of the church — consisting of 
 several hundred pieces — is divided into two distinct 
 parts— the Antiphonarium proper and the Gradual. 
 The former contains the offices of the canonical hours 
 (cursus ecclesiasticus) , consisting of the responses, an- 
 thems, and hymns reiterated day and night by religious 
 communities. The custom of reciting the office began 
 among the monastic orders of the Orient about the 
 fourth century. Apparently it had its genesis in Anti- 
 och, about 350, and soon spread to the other Greek 
 churches. The pilgrim in Silvia speaks of hearing flie 
 Vigils and other hours in the church of Jerusalem 
 (386), and Bishop Cassian of Autun found the hour of 
 Prime introduced at Bethlehem in 390. From Alex- 
 andria and Constantinople the office passed to Milan 
 and Rome. In the sixth century it was organized some- 
 what as it is to-day. Cassiodorus (ca. 540) names seven 
 synaxes, or daily reunions, and a similar number is 
 mentioned in the rules of St. Benedict about the same 
 time. 
 
 The Gradual consists of the services of the mass, and 
 contains the anthems, responses, and hymns proper to 
 these services. There are a few fixed pieces, such as 
 the Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, Agnus Dei, and Credo, con- 
 stituting what is known as the Ordinary of the mass, 
 and besides these there are a large number which vary 
 according to the day and the name of the saint whose 
 feast is celebrated. The chants belonging to the Introit 
 and Communion are antiphonal, while those of the 
 Gradual, AUeluja, Tractus, and Offertory are respon- 
 sorial. The Gloria in excelsis is a sort of hymn. Be- 
 
 148 
 
SEQUENCES AND TROPES 
 
 sides the hymns of the Ambrosian cycle, ah-eady 
 spoken of, the Latin church adopted many Oriental 
 hymns of the seventh and eighth centuries. Fourteen 
 hymns of great age are still included in the Gradual, 
 among tliem the Pange lingua, attributed to Fortuna- 
 tus, the Vexilla regis, and the Venz creator spiritus, at- 
 tributed to Charlemagne. 
 
 The hymns, anthems, and responses in the general 
 repertory of church songs appear under two distinct 
 forms — simple melodies and ornate melodies. The 
 former, which are more or less syllabic, are used for all 
 the anthems in the cursus ecclesiasticus and the re- 
 sponses belonging to that part of it which forms the 
 office of the day. The ornate style is used for the 
 anthems and responses of the mass and for the office 
 of the night. The responses of the Gradual, Tractus, 
 and AUeluja are musically the most interesting of the 
 liturgical chants. They are not so much an integral 
 part of the sacrifice of the mass as they are a sort of 
 vocal intermezzo for solo and chorus, allowing the dis- 
 play of considerable art, both in technique and ex- 
 pression. 
 
 A peculiar form of composition which first appears 
 in the liturgy after the ninth century is the sequence 
 or prosa. Apparently this originated in the East and 
 grew out of the custom of writing words as mnemonics 
 under the syllables of the word AUeluja.* Gradually 
 it became of such importance that it was detached from 
 the AUeluja and made an independent form. The first 
 examples of the sequence which appear in the Latin 
 church are furnished by Notker Balbulus (830-912), 
 
 * The AUeluja is not really a word but a sort of shrilling effect of 
 great antiquity among the Hebrews and other people of the Orient. It was 
 produced by choruses of women in triumphal processions and other joyous 
 celebrations, and seems to have been about half way between a song and 
 a cheer. The early Christians used it in songs of joy and praise, and per- 
 haps sang it to take the place of the instrumental prelude of the psalms. 
 'Laudes, hoc est alleluia canere, canticum est Hebraeorum,' says Isidore 
 of Seville. (De off., I, 13.) 
 
 149 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 who was responsible for developing it to the propor- 
 tions of an independent form. Indeed he has been 
 called its inventor. An ancient Irish authority, quoted 
 in the Book of Lismore, says, 'Notker, Abbot of St. 
 Gall's, invented sequences, and Alleluja after them in 
 the form in which they are.' * Among the most famous 
 followers of Notker in the composition of sequences 
 may be mentioned Tutilo or Tuathal (d. 915), an Irish 
 monk of St. Gall's, Wipo, and Adam de Saint- Victor. 
 The council of Trent suppressed all sequences except 
 five, which are still used by the church. These are the 
 Victimse pascali laudes of Wipo; the Lauda Sion Sal- 
 vatorem of St. Thomas Aquinas; the Dies Irse of 
 Thomas de Celano; the Stabat Mater of Jacques de 
 Benedictis, and the Vent Sancte Spiritus. 
 
 Another peculiar form, practically the antithesis of 
 the sequence in its origin, is the trope, which consists 
 of the dilation of the musical or the literary text by the 
 interjection of complementary phrases. This — at least 
 at first — ^was probably done to avoid monotony. For 
 instance, instead of singing Kyrie eleison nine times in 
 succession, it was sung as follows : 
 
 'Kyrie cuncti potens genitor Deus, omni creator eleison — fons 
 
 et origo boni pie luxque perennis, eleison. 
 Kyrie salvicet pietas tua nos, bone rector, eleison,' etc. 
 
 (Tutilo, Cod. S. Gall. 484.) 
 
 All parts of the mass, from the Introit to the Com- 
 munion, have been decorated with tropes. There has 
 been compiled a list of seventy-eight tropes for the 
 Kyrie alone. Like the sequence the trope developed 
 from an accessory function to an independent form 
 which at one time was practised with much assiduity. 
 
 * See 'History of Irish Music,' W. H. Grattan Flood, Dublin, 1906. 
 Notker was the author of the famous Antiphona de Morte, beginning Media 
 vita in morte sumus (In the midst of life we are in death), which was 
 quickly adopted as a funeral anthem throughout Europe. Miraculous effects 
 were attributed to it, and its use was so much abused that the council of 
 Cologne (1316) forbade anybody to sing it who was not specially authorized 
 by a bishop. 
 
 150 
 
THE ECCLESIASTICAL MODES 
 
 Whether the musical theory of the ecclesiastical 
 chants prior to the fifth century — apart from the Am- 
 brosian hymns — ^was influenced more by Roman or 
 Oriental traditions is a moot point. The question, how- 
 ever, is not vital, as the real founder of the church sys- 
 tem of modes, the Pythagorean philosopher Boethius 
 (fifth century), was professedly an imitator of the 
 Greek theorists. Boethius speaks of the ancients with 
 something hke veneration, and takes pride in writing 
 like a Greek, after the fashion of Plato, Aristotle, Aris- 
 toxenus, Nichomachus, Philolaus, and Ptolemy. He is 
 a mathematician rather than a musician. He congratu- 
 lates Ptolemy on having ignored the testimony of the 
 ear and condemns the practice of music as interfering 
 with the just and logical consideration of theory. Cas- 
 siodorus and Isidore of Seville speak in somewhat the 
 same fashion. Boethius is the authority for a long line 
 of church musicians, including Hucbald, Guido, Englie- 
 bert, Jean de Muris, Adam de Fulda, and Alcuin. The 
 mathematical view of music fathered by him gained 
 such prevalence that in the curriculum of mediaeval 
 universities music was placed among the mathematical 
 sciences. 
 
 We cannot do more here than briefly indicate the 
 tone system used in the church after the liturgy had 
 been definitely formulated, without going into the ques- 
 tion of its earlier evolution. The system of modes was 
 professedly founded on the tetrachordal species of the 
 Greeks (see Chap. IV, p. 112), but with an obvious 
 misunderstanding of the Greek system. At first only 
 four forms were recognized, namely, the so-called au- 
 thentic (from avBevrea, to govem) modes of St. Am- 
 brose. According to tradition St. Gregory added to 
 these four 'plagal' (from wXoyios, oblique). At any rate 
 
 151 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 before the eleventh century there were eight ac- 
 cepted church modes, four 'authentic' modes, and four 
 'plagal' or derived modes. Later theorists taught the 
 existence of fourteen different scales. Two of these 
 were rejected as 'impure'; the other twelve remained 
 in use for centuries, and were known by the names of 
 their Greek prototypes, but these names, too, were mis- 
 applied, as will be seen from the following table, where 
 the octave D-d corresponding to the Phrygian species of 
 the Greeks is named Dorian, and vice versa the octave 
 F-f (Greek mixolydian) has become the Lydian, and 
 so forth. The difference between authentic and plagal 
 modes was chiefly one of range and emphasis. For 
 example, in every mode two tones were considered, 
 and were, as a matter of fact, of predominant impor- 
 tance; the final or note on which the piece ended, 
 somewhat analogous to our tonic or key-note, and the 
 dominant, the note most frequently touched in the 
 course of the melody, the centre of gravity, so to speak, 
 about which the melody moved. In the authentic 
 modes the melody never sank below the final except in 
 cadence, where it might take the note immediately be- 
 low the final and rise by one step to the close; and the 
 dominant was, like our dominant, in the middle of the 
 scale. In the plagal modes, on the other hand, the 
 melody wandered freely as low as a fourth below the 
 final, which thus was near the middle of the melodic 
 range; and the dominant was a third below the domi- 
 nant of the corresponding authentic mode. Whenever 
 the dominant fell on B, C was substituted (indicated 
 by N.B. in the table) and in the rejected Locrian G was 
 substituted for F. 
 
 Each authentic mode had its related plagal. The 
 final of the ecclesiastical Dorian mode was D.* The 
 
 * Here should be noted one of the ways in which the Christian theorists 
 misapplied the system of the Greeks. In Chapter rv we have seen that the 
 Greeks did not consider pitch as in any way related to the character or 
 ethos of the modes. This ethos was determined solely by the arrangement 
 
 152 
 
MUSICA FICTA 
 
 range of a melody written in this mode was limited to 
 notes which may be represented on the pianoforte by 
 the white keys between D and d, including the two D's 
 and, for the cadence, the C below the lower. The mel- 
 ody would centre about A and come to end on D, The 
 related plagal mode, called the Hypodorian, had the 
 same final, D, but the range of a melody in this mode 
 was from the A below to the A above the final, cen- 
 tering about the dominant, F. The so-called relaxed 
 modes which are frequently met with varied likewise 
 
 AUTHENTIC MODES. 
 
 The Dorian Hole. 
 
 Hole n. 
 
 PLAQAL MODES. 
 
 The Hypodorian Mode. 
 
 Modem. 
 
 The i'&ygian Mode. 
 
 » ii s Mode IV. 
 
 The 
 
 Hjpophrygl 
 
 :lan Uode, 
 
 ^"^ The HypolocTian Mode (rejected). 
 
 Mode XI The Locrlan Mode (r^eetedS. TSoie xn. " - 
 
 * Final. + Bomijiaiit. 
 
 from the authentic modes in range which in such modes 
 might be extended to a third below the final. The dom- 
 
 of the steps In the scale. The Christian theorists, on the other hand, though 
 they still recognized the variety of character obtained by varying the dis- 
 tribution of steps in the scale, evidently allotted to the different modes a 
 different final or pitch, and thus pitch came to Influence the character of 
 the modes. The modes might, however, still be transposed and sung at 
 any pitch. 
 
 153 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 inant remained the same and the slight extension of 
 range hardly altered the ethos or character of the au- 
 thentic mode from which it thus technically varied. 
 
 The modes were in as far as possible strictly adhered 
 to, but the occurrence of certain intervals difficult to 
 sing and not wholly pleasant to the ear (notably the 
 augmented fourth, or tritone,* from F to B), led to 
 modifications or, as we should say, chromatic altera- 
 tions. B-flat, for instance, was substituted for B when- 
 ever the interval from F to B occurred; and later, in 
 the development of part singing, many other altera- 
 tions were found necessary. Marks indicating such 
 alterations were seldom written in the score, and sing- 
 ers were specially trained to alter intervals at sight, 
 according to the elaborate rules of the practice called 
 musica ficta, or 'false music' 
 
 We have already adverted to the gradual decline in 
 the use of the Greek language at Rome and the inci- 
 dental passing from the minds and the memories of 
 men of the alphabetical system of notation which had 
 been inherited from the Greeks. It is not quite clear, 
 however, how the Oriental church, which used Greek 
 until a comparatively late period and even introduced 
 that language into the liturgy of the Latin church, could 
 have absolutely ignored the Greek system of notation. 
 Yet such appears to be the case. As far as we can dis- 
 cover, the early chants of the church, both in the East 
 and in the West, were handed down viva voce, and not 
 until about the eighth century do we find traces of any 
 attempt to devise a system of graphic aids to musical 
 memory. This system, as we first find it, was of a most 
 elementary sort and consisted merely of a few strokes 
 and dashes placed above the text of the song and serv- 
 ing apparently no other purpose than to indicate in a 
 general way the rising and falling inflections of the 
 
 * This dreaded interval was called py churchmen diabolus in musica, 
 and as such studiously avoided, 
 
 154 
 
THE SPIRIT OF PLAIN SONG 
 
 melody. These signs are known as neumes, and from 
 them gradually devieloped our modern system of nota- 
 tion. The origin of the neumes is quite obscure. It 
 would appear that at first they consisted merely of the 
 acute and grave accents borrowed from the Byzantine 
 grammarians and designed to indicate the occurrence 
 of a rising and falling inflection respectively. To them 
 were gradually added dashes, strokes, curves, and 
 hooks in various combinations which in time became a 
 fairly complete and precise system of musical writing. 
 Their evolution into the square and diamond-shaped 
 Gothic notation of the middle ages can be followed 
 with sufficient clearness. 
 
 -uC me-ttf (fou. £Leenftci£ M otbi, ulieu lut«u.a< 
 
 leutme- 
 
 BPECIMEH OF NOTATION IN NEtTMES, TENTH AND ELEVENTH CENTCBT 
 
 These signs, though representing definite turns and 
 embellishments in the melody, gave no exact indication 
 of pitch. The first sign of anything approaching a staff 
 occurs in the tenth century, when one or two lines were 
 drawn across the page to mark the place of certain 
 tones or pitches. The first line was used for the tone F 
 and the second for the tone C. Other lines were later 
 added for the other tones, and each line was marked 
 with the letter of the tone to which it was assigned. 
 Though all the letters of the scale were used in this 
 fashion, F, C, and G were the ones most conunonly em- 
 ployed and from the Gothic characters for these were 
 developed our modern clef signs, as may be seen from 
 the following illustration: 
 
 QENEBia OP CI-EFB FBOM GOTHIC I/ETTEBS 
 
 155 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 A system of letter notation seems to have grown up 
 contemporaneously with the neumatic system. Its in- 
 vention has been ascribed to Gregory the Great and to 
 Boethius, without much authority in either case. The 
 first instances of its practical use are found in the writ- 
 ings of Notker Balbulus and Hucbald. Originally fif- 
 teen letters were used to designate the tones of two oc- 
 taves; this number was afterward reduced to seven, 
 repeated in successive octaves. The letters ran from 
 A to G, but none of them had a definite tone meaning, 
 as they have with us. A was merely the tone taken as 
 a starting point and the series was always counted up- 
 ward from it. In the system as it was finally completed 
 the lowest G was added and called gamma to distin- 
 guish it from the G in the regular series. It is of inter- 
 est to note here that the introduction of B flat necessi- 
 tated the use of two differently shaped B's. The B 
 durum was angular (jj) and the B molle was rounded 
 (b). From the former was derived our natural sign 
 (bl) and from the latter our flat sign (b). Our sharp is 
 merely a variation of the natural. The system of letter 
 notation was originally devised chiefly for instruments, 
 particularly the organ, though its use gradually became 
 universal. It belongs, however, more properly to a 
 period later than the one we have been discussing. 
 
 One other item may justly find a place in this chap- 
 ter, namely, the early history of the organ. The instru- 
 ment has virtually since the beginning of our era been 
 associated with the church, and was already a factor in 
 the service during the plain-song period. We shall 
 presently see how one of the earliest forms of polyph- 
 ony — of music that was not merely plain chant — re- 
 ceived its name from the instrument. The organ is of 
 ancient origin; according to Riemann, its ancestors are 
 the bagpipe and the Pan's pipe. Already in the sec- 
 ond century B. C. there existed a true organ, in which 
 air pressure was generated by pumps (bellows) and 
 
 156 
 
The Organ in the 
 
 1. Pneumatic organ, ftneenfu ry 
 
 2. The famous Winchester organ, 395I, a. u. 
 
 3. German organ, 11th century 
 
THE SPIRIT OF PLAIN SONG 
 
 compressed by means of water pressure and the manip- 
 ulation of a keyboard. The invention of this so-called 
 water-organ (organum hydraulicum, hydraulic organ) 
 was ascribed to Ktesibios (170 B. C.) by his pupil Heron 
 of Alexandria, whose writings have come down to us. 
 Water was, it seems, not a necessary accessory to this 
 instrument and organs were soon after constructed 
 without the hydraulic principle, in Greece and Italy. 
 
 The instrument was known in the Occident long 
 before King Pepin received one as a present from 
 Emperor Constantine Copronymos in 757 A. D. A 
 Greek description of an organ belonging to Julian the 
 Apostate (fourth century) and others mentioned by 
 Cassiodorus and St. Augustine furnish valuable details. 
 These instruments usually consisted of from eight to 
 fifteen pipes (one to two octaves of the diatonic scale) 
 which were constructed in the same manner as the flue 
 - pipes of modern organs. Throughout the ninth cen- 
 tury organs were assiduously manufactured by monks, 
 especially in France and Germany, and their compass 
 was made to coincide with the middle range of the 
 human voice (c to c') so as to be used in connection 
 with vocal instruction. The names of the tones were 
 inscribed on the 'keys,' which were small wooden 
 plates in vertical position. The player was obliged 
 to pull this shutter away to allow the wind to enter the 
 pipes, which would sound continuously till shut. By 
 980 there existed organs of considerable size, such as 
 the famous one at Winchester, consisting of 400 pipes 
 and two keyboards, requiring two players. A special 
 form of notation, known as tablature, grew up for or- 
 gan playing which coincides in general with our mod- 
 ern staff notation. 
 
 The above will, we believe, sufBlce to give a clear 
 account of the musical activities of the period which 
 we have called the Age of Plain-song. Among music- 
 
 157 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 loving people in general there is a lack of in- 
 terest in plain-song, due partly to religious rea- 
 sons, but chiefly born of a tendency to regard it as a 
 dry and spiritless formula, an insipid sort of recitative 
 designed to lend solemnity to devotional exercises. 
 Complete lack of sympathy and imagination could 
 alone excuse such an impression in the minds of those 
 who have ever had the opportunity of hearing it sung 
 in a sincere and reverent spirit. Unlike the pedantic, 
 mathematical art that music came to be in the middle 
 ages, plain-song was preeminently a form of emotional 
 expression. Further, it was the expression of emotions 
 most poignant and profound. It came from the 
 hearts of men who were conscious actors in a gigantic 
 drama. The inexpressible tortures of eternal fire, the 
 ecstatic wonders of a golden heaven, the ineffable mys- 
 tery of the Godhead, the awful panoply of the Judg- 
 ment, the wrath and agony of a wronged and insulted • 
 Deity who yet offered Himself as a bloody holocaust 
 for the sins of men — all the esoteric spiritual symbols 
 of Christianity had for these early believers a real and 
 literal significance. To them was vouchsafed the sim- 
 ple faith, the naive wonder of childhood. Their souls 
 were possessed with a great awe, with an intense long- 
 ing, with profound humility and passionate remorse, 
 with fiery zeal and ardent love, with the joyous ecstasy 
 of anticipated salvation and the nameless horror of 
 ever-threatening damnation. All this wealth of deep 
 and keen emotion is conveyed to us in the songs of the 
 early church with the direct simplicity of Greek drama. 
 No one, listening to the mournful strains of the Dies 
 Irse, could escape the vague awe, the blood-congealing 
 sense of that tremendous drama set for 'the day of 
 wrath, that awful day when heaven and earth shall pass 
 away'; nor could any one hear the serene melody of the 
 Veni sancte spiritus without feeling some suggestion of 
 the ineffable peace that follows the descent of the 
 
 158 
 
THE SPIRIT OF PLAIN SONG 
 
 Spirit Paraclete. Understanding and sympathy— diflB- 
 cult perhaps for a scientific and rationalistic age — are 
 essential to the appreciation of these poets of the ec- 
 static vision; but for any one who can bring imagina- 
 tion and sensibility to the study of plain-song the re- 
 sults of the task will prove well worth the labor. 
 
 W. D. D. 
 
 159 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONY 
 
 The third dimension in music — ^"Antiphony' and Polyphony; magadiz- 
 ing; organum and diaphony, parallel, oblique— Guide d'Arezzo and his 
 reputed inventions; solmisation; progress of notation — Johannes Cotto and 
 the Ad organum faciendum; contrary motion and the beginning of true 
 polyphony — Measured music; mensural notation — Fanx-bourdon, gymel; 
 forms of mensural composition. 
 
 In the preceding chapter we have tried to trace the 
 perfecting of a form of melody called plain-song. We 
 have seen how the mass of the Catholic Church was set 
 to solo music. Apart from the highly expressive qual- 
 ity which the music inevitably acquired because of the 
 reality and life of the new emotional religion, the 
 plain-song of the mass did not differ from the artistic 
 music of the Greeks and the Romans, that is to say, it 
 brought forward no new means of effect or of expres- 
 sion. We may say it was the adaptation of old and 
 tried methods to new ends. We can hardly suppose 
 that the technique of composition had been advanced 
 by the early Christian composers beyond the point to 
 which the Greeks had brought it, nor that the art of 
 music had been expanded during the first centuries of 
 the Christian era to greater proportions than the 
 Greeks had developed it. The theorists of the first nine 
 centuries made blunders in trying to systematize Chris- 
 tian song according to the remnants of Greek theory 
 which had been preserved; yet the Greek scales were 
 still in use, though misnamed by the theorists, and com- 
 posers for the church still conformed to them. But 
 about the beginning of the ninth century a new element 
 appeared in music for the church which the Greeks had 
 
 160 
 
ORGANUM AND DIAPHONY 
 
 left practically untouched and which was probably the 
 contribution of the barbarian peoples of northern and 
 western Europe, either the Germans or the Celts, 
 namely, part-singing. To the single plain-song mel- 
 odies of the ritual composers added another accom- 
 panying melody or part. The resultant progression of 
 concords and discords was incipient harmony, the 
 practice of so weaving two and later three and four 
 melodies together was the beginning of the science or 
 art of polyphony. 
 
 Polyphony was practically foreign to the music of 
 the Greeks. They had observed, it is true, that a chorus 
 of men and boys produced a different quality of sound 
 from that of a chorus made up of all men or all boys, 
 and they had analyzed the difference and found the 
 cause of it to be that boys' voices were an octave higher 
 than men's; and that boys and men singing together did 
 not sing the same notes. This effect, which they also 
 iinitated with voices and certain instruments they called 
 Antiphony, and they considered it more pleasing than 
 tiie effect of voices or instruments in the same pitch 
 which they called Homophony. The practice of mak- 
 ing music in octaves was called magadizing, from the 
 name of a large harp-like instrument, the magadis, 
 upon which it was possible. But magadizing cannot be 
 considered the forerunner of polyphony, for, though 
 melodies an octave apart may be considered not strictly 
 the same, still they pursue the same course and are in 
 no way independent of each other; and the effect of a 
 melody sung in octaves differs from the effect of one 
 sung in unison only in quality, not at all in kind. 
 
 The allegiance of theorists to Greek culture all 
 through the Middle Ages and the Renaissance has 
 tended to conceal the actual origin of polyphony, but 
 
 161 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 as early as 1767 J. J. Rousseau wrote in his Diction- 
 naire de musique, 'It is hard not to suspect that all our 
 harmony is an invention of the Goths or the Barbari- 
 ans,' And later : 'It was reserved to the people of the 
 North to make this great discovery and to bequeath it as 
 the foundation of aU the rules of the art of music' 
 
 The kernel from which the complicated science of 
 polyphony sprang is simple to understand. One voice 
 sang a melody, another voice or an instrument, starting 
 with it, wove a counter-melody about it, elaborated by 
 the flourishes and melismas which are still dear to the 
 people of the Orient. Some such sort of primitive im- 
 provisation seems to have been practised by the people 
 of northern Europe, and to have been taken over by the 
 church singers. The later art of dechant sur le livre 
 or improvised descant was essentially no different and 
 seems to have been of very ancient origin. The early 
 theorists naturally took it upon themselves to regulate 
 and systematize the popular practice, and thereupon 
 polyphony first comes to our notice through their 
 works in a very stiff and ugly form of music called 
 organum, which in its strictest form is hardly more to 
 be considered polyphony than the magadizing of the 
 Greeks. 
 
 The works of many of the ninth century theorists 
 such as Aurelian of Reome, and Remy of Auxerre, sug- 
 gest that some form of part-singing was practised in 
 their day, though they leave us in confusion owing to 
 the ambiguity of their language. The famous scholar 
 Scotus Erigena (880) mentions organum, but in a pas- 
 sage that is difficult and obscure. Regino, abbot of 
 Prum in 892, is the first to define consonance and dis- 
 sonance in such a way as to leave no doubt that he 
 considers them from the point of view of polyphony, 
 that is to say, as sounds that are the result of two dif- 
 ferent notes sung simultaneously. In the works of 
 Hucbald of St. Amand in Flanders, quite at the end of 
 
 162 
 
ORGANUM AND DIAPHONY 
 
 the century, if not well into the tenth (Hucbald died in 
 930 or 932, over ninety years of age), there is at last a 
 definite and clear description of organum. The word 
 organum is an adaptation of the name of the instru- 
 ment on which the art could be imitated, or, perhaps, 
 from which it partly originated, the organ; just as the 
 Greeks coined a word from magadis. 
 
 Of Hucbald's life little is known save that he was 
 born about 840, that he was a monk, a poet, and a mu- 
 sician, a disciple of St. Remy of Auxerre and a friend 
 of St. Odo of Cluny. Up to within recent years several 
 important works on music were attributed to him, of 
 which only one seems now to be actually his — the tract, 
 De Harmonica Institutione, of which several copies are 
 in existence. This and the Musica Enchiriadis of his 
 friend St. Odo are responsible for the widespread be- 
 lief that polyphony actually sprang from a hideous 
 progression of empty fourths and fifths. Roth theor- 
 ists, in their efforts to confine the current form of ex- 
 temporized descant in the strict bounds of theory, re- 
 duced it thus: to a given melody taken from the 
 plain-song of the church the descanter or organizer 
 added another at the interval of a fifth or fourth below, 
 which followed the first melody or cantus firmus note 
 by note in strictly parallel movement. The fourth 
 seems to have been regarded as the pleasanter of the 
 intervals, though, as we shall see, it led composers into 
 diOiculties, to overcome which Hucbald himself pro- 
 posed a relaxation of the stiff parallel movement be- 
 tween the parts. In the strict organum or diaphong 
 the movement was thus : 
 
 Either or both, of the parts might be doubled at the 
 octave, in which case the diaphony was called com- 
 posite. 
 
 163 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Just why the intervals of the fifth and fourth should 
 have been chosen for this parallel music, which is ex- 
 cruciating to our modern ears, is not positively known. 
 The simple obvious answer to the riddle is that Hue- 
 bald and his contemporaries based their theories on 
 the theories of the Greeks, who regarded the fifth and 
 fourth as consonances nearest the perfect consonance 
 of the octave and unison. But in that case we have to 
 ask ourselves why Hucbald and his followers regarded 
 the diaphony of the fourth as pleasanter than that of 
 the fifth which they none the less acknowledged was 
 more nearly perfect. Dr. Hugo Riemann has suggested 
 a solution to this difficulty which is in substance that 
 organum was an attempt to assimilate elements of an 
 ancient art of singing practised by the Welsh and other 
 Celtic singers. The Welsh scale is a pentatonic scale, 
 that is, a scale of five steps in which half steps are 
 skipped. In terms of the keyboard, it can be repre- 
 sented by a scale starting upon E-flat and proceeding 
 to the E-flat above or below only by way of the black 
 keys between or by a similar progression between any 
 other two black keys an octave apart. In such a scale 
 parallel fourths are impossible, as indeed they are in 
 the Greek scales of eight notes upon which the church 
 music was based; but whereas the progression of the 
 fourths in the Greek scales is broken by the imperfect 
 and very unpleasant interval of the tritone, in the pen- 
 tatonic scale it is interrupted by the pleasing major 
 
 J^ Fentatonie 1 Octatonie) » % 
 
 ■ VP M.i.i*'*i!i.JL ' 'M. * zi » ''' » ii. » M. ' 
 
 third. Such a progression of fourths and thirds seems 
 to spring almost naturally from the pentatonic scales 
 and was very likely much practised by the ancient 
 Welsh singers.* A comparison of two examples will 
 make the difference obvious. 
 
 * See Riemann, Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, P, p. 144 S, 
 
 164 
 
GUIDO D'AREZZO 
 
 The presence in the octatonic scale of the disagree- 
 able tritone, marked with a star in the example, forced 
 even Hucbald and Odo to make some provision for 
 avoiding it. This consisted in limiting the movement 
 of the -organizing' voice. It was not allowed to de- 
 scend below a certain point in the scale. In those cases, 
 therefore, in which the cantus firmus began in such a 
 way that the organizing voice could not accompany it 
 at the start without sinking below its prescribed limit 
 the organizing voice must start with the same note as 
 the cantus firmus and hold that note until the cantus 
 firmus had risen so that it was possible for the organiz- 
 ing voice to follow it at the interval of the fourth. In 
 the same way the parts were forced to close at the 
 unison if the movement of the cantus firmus did not 
 permit the organizing voice to follow it at the interval 
 of a fourth without going below its limit. The follow- 
 ing example will make this clear: 
 
 In this case it will be noted that the movement of the 
 parts is no longer continuously parallel, but that there 
 are passages in which it is oblique. Indeed it is hardly 
 conceivable that strict parallel movement was ever 
 adhered to in anything but theory. It is interesting to 
 observe how even in theory it had to give way, and how 
 by the presence of the tritone in the scale the theorists 
 were practically forced into a genuine polyphonjc style. 
 The strict style, as we have already remarked, was 
 hardly more polyphonic than the magadizing of the 
 Greeks; for, though the voice parts are actually differ- 
 ent, still each is closely bound to the other and has no 
 independent movement of its own; but in the freer 
 
 165 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 style there is a difference if not an independence of 
 movement. 
 
 In connection with this example it is also well to 
 note that through the oblique movement the parts are 
 made to sound other intervals than the fourth or fifth 
 or unison, which with the octave were regarded for 
 centuries as the only consonances. At the first star they 
 are singing the harsh interval of a second; immediately 
 after they sing a major third. By the earliest theorists 
 these dissonances were disregarded or accepted as 
 necessary evils, the unavoidable results of the restric- 
 tions under which the organizing voice was laid. But 
 if the free diaphony was practised at all it was to lead 
 musicians inevitably to a recognition of these intervals, 
 and of the effect of contrasting one kind with another. 
 In the works of Hucbald and Odo and their contempo- 
 raries, however, the ideal is theoretically the parallel 
 progression of the only consonances they would admit, 
 the fourth, fifth, and octave. Oblique movement was 
 first of all a way to escape the tritone, and the un- 
 named dissonances were haphazard. Thus we find 
 only the mere germ of the science of polyphony. The 
 dry stiffness of the music and the inadequacy of the 
 cumbersome rules must lead one to believe that learned 
 men, true to their time, were doing what they could to 
 define a popular free practice within the limits of 
 theory. The sudden untraceable advent of a new free 
 style some hundred years or more later goes to prove 
 that the free descant of a genuinely musical people was 
 never actually suppressed or discontinued by the in- 
 fluence of the theorists, 
 
 II 
 
 However, before considering the new diaphony, we 
 have still to trace the further progress of the organum 
 of Hucbald and Odo. The next theorist of importance 
 
 166 
 
GUIDO D'AREZZO 
 
 was Guido of Arezzo. To Guido have been attributed 
 at various times most of the important inventions and 
 reforms of early polyphonic music, among them des- 
 cant, organum and diaphony, the hexachordal system, 
 the staff for notation, and even the spinet; but the 
 wealth of tradition which clothed him so gloriously 
 has, as in the case of many others, been gradually 
 stripped from him, till we find him disclosed as a bril- 
 liantly learned monk and a famous teacher, author of 
 but few of the works which possibly his teaching in- 
 spired. He has recently been identiiied with a French 
 monk of the Benedictine monastery of St, Maur des 
 Fosses.* He was born at or near Arezzo about 990, 
 and in due time became a Benedictine monk. He must 
 have had remarkable talent for music, for about 1022 
 Pope Benedict VIII, hearing that he had invented a new 
 method for teaching singing, invited him to Rome to 
 question him about it. He visited Rome again a few 
 years later on the express invitation of Pope John XIX, 
 and this time brought with him a copy of the Anti- 
 phonarium, written according to his own method of 
 notation. The story goes that the pope was so im- 
 pressed by the new method that he refused to allow 
 Guido to leave the audience chamber until he had him- 
 self learned to sing from it. After this he tried to per- 
 suade Guido to remain in Rome, but Guido, on the plea 
 of ill-health, left Rome, promising to return the follow- 
 ing year. However, he accepted an invitation from the 
 abbot of a monastery near Ferrara to go there and 
 teach singing to the monks and choir-boys; and he 
 stayed there several years, during which he wrote one 
 of the most important of his works, the Micrologus, 
 dedicated to the bishop of Arezzo. Later he became 
 abbot of the Monastery of Santa Croce near Arezzo, 
 and he died there about the year 1050. During the time 
 of his second visit to Rome he wrote the famous letter 
 
 * See article by Dom Germain in Revue de I'art chritlen, 1888. 
 
 167 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 to Michael, a monk at Pomposa, which has led histori- 
 ans to believe that he was actually the inventor of a 
 new division of the scales into groups of six notes, 
 called hexachorda, and a new system of teaching based 
 on this division. 
 
 The case of Guido is typical of the period in which 
 he lived. Very evidently an unusually gifted teacher, 
 as Hucbald was a hundred years before him, his in- 
 fluence was strong over the communities with which 
 he came into contact, and spread abroad after his 
 death, so that many innovations which were probably 
 the results of slow growth were attributed to his in- 
 ventiveness. The Micrologus contains many rules for 
 the construction of organum below a cantus firmus, 
 which are not very much advanced beyond those of 
 Hucbald and Odo. The old strict diaphony is still held 
 by him in respect, though the free is much preferred. 
 To those intervals which result from the 'free' treat- 
 ment of the organizing voice, however, he gives names, 
 and he is conscious of their effect; so that, where Huc- 
 bald and Odo confined themselves to giving rules for 
 the movement of the organizing voice in such a way as 
 to avoid the harsh tritone even at the cost of other dis- 
 sonances, Guido gives rules to direct singers in the use 
 of these dissonances for themselves, which, as we have 
 seen, in the earlier treatises were considered acciden- 
 tal. This marks a real advance. But there is in Guido's 
 works the same attempt merely to make rules, to har- 
 ness music to logical theory, that we found in Hucbald's 
 and Odo's; and it is again hard to believe that his 
 method of organizing was in common practice, or that 
 it represents the style of church singing of his day. 
 From the accounts of the early Christians, from the 
 elaborate ornamentation of the plain-song in mediaeval 
 manuscripts in which it is first found written down, 
 and from later accounts of the 'descanters' we are in- 
 fluenced to believe that music was sung in the church 
 
 168 
 
SOLMISATION 
 
 with a warmth of feeling, sometimes exalted, some- 
 times hysterical even to the point of stamping with the 
 feet and gesticulating, from which the standardized 
 bald ornamentation of Guido is far removed. Further- 
 more, the next important treatises after Guido's, one 
 by Johannes Cotto, and an anonymous one called Ad 
 Organum Faciendum, deal with the subject of organum 
 in a wholly new way and show an advance which can 
 hardly be explained unless we admit that a freer kind 
 of organum was much in use in Guido's day than that 
 which he describes and for which he makes his rules. 
 
 But before proceeding with the development of the 
 early polyphony after the time of Guido, we have to 
 consider two inventions in music which have been for 
 centuries placed to his credit. In the first place he is 
 supposed to have divided the scale, which, it will be re- 
 membered, had always been considered as consisting of 
 groups of four notes called tetrachords placed one 
 above the other, into overlapping groups of six notes 
 called hexachords. The first began on G, the second on 
 C, the third on F, and the others were reduplications of 
 these at the octave. The superiority of this system over 
 the system of tetrachords, inherited from the Greeks, 
 was that in each hexachord the halftone occupies the 
 same position, that is, between the third and fourth 
 steps.* It is not certain whether Guido was the first 
 so to divide the scale, but he evidently did much to 
 perfect the new system. 
 
 There has long been a tradition that he was the first 
 to give those names to the notes of the hexachord which 
 
 * strict 'imitation' "would be extremely difllcult in the tetrachordal sys- 
 tem. A subject given in one tetrachord could not be imitated exactly in 
 another, because the tetrachords varied from each other by the position 
 of the half-step within them. Compare, for instance, the modem major 
 and minor modes. The answer given in minor to a subject annoimced in 
 major is not a strict imitation. If, on the other hajid, the answer to a 
 subject in a certain hexachord was given in another hexachord, it would 
 necessarily be a strict imitation, since in all hexachords the half-step came 
 between the third and fourth tones, between mi and fa. 
 
 169 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 are in use even at the present day. Having noticed that 
 the successive lines of a hymn to St. John the Baptist 
 began on successive notes of the scale, the first on G, the 
 second on A, the third on B, etc., up to the sixth note, 
 namely, E, he is supposed to have associated the first 
 syllable of each line with the note to which it was sung. 
 The hymn reads as follows : 
 
 Vt gueant laxis 
 i?esonari iibris 
 Mira. gestorum 
 Famiili tuorum 
 Sol\& poliuti 
 Lobii reatum 
 Sancte Joannes. 
 
 Hence G was called ut; A, re; B, mi; C, fa; D, sol; 
 and E, la. These are the notes of the first hexachord, 
 and these names are given to the notes of every hexa- 
 chord. The half-step therefore was always mi-fa. 
 Since the hexachords overlapped, several tones ac- 
 quired two or even three names. For instance, the 
 second hexachord began on C, which was also the 
 fourth note of the first hexachord, and in the complete 
 system this C was C-fa-ut. The fourth hexachord be- 
 gan on G an octave above the first. This G was not 
 only the lowest note of the fourth hexachord but the 
 second of the third and the fourth of the second. 
 Therefore, its complete name was G-sol-re-ut. The 
 lowest G, which Guido is said to have added to perfect 
 the system, was called gamma. It was always gamma- 
 ut, from which our word gamut. The process of giving 
 each note its proper series of names was called solmi- 
 sation. 
 
 The system seems to us clumsy and inadequate. We 
 cannot but ask ourselves why Guido did not choose 
 the natural limit of the octave for his groups instead 
 of the sixth. However, it was a great improvement 
 over the yet clumsier system of the tetrachords, and 
 
 170 
 
JOHANNES COTTO AND THE 'ANONYMUS' 
 
 was of great service to musicians down to compara- 
 tively recent times. One may find no end of examples 
 of its use in the works of the great polyphonic writers. 
 As a help to students in learning it, the system of the 
 Guidonian Hand was invented, whereby the various 
 tones and syllables of the hexachords were assigned 
 to the joints of the hand and could be counted off on 
 the hand much as children are taught in kindergarten 
 to count on their fingers. That Guido himself invented 
 this elementary system is doubtful, though his name 
 has become associated with it. 
 
 THE GUIDONIAN HAND 
 
 Guido must also be credited with valuable improve- 
 ments in the art of notation. In his day two systems 
 were in use. One employed the letters of the alphabet, 
 capitals for the lowest octave, small letters for the 
 next and double letters for the highest. This was exact, 
 though difficult and clumsy. The other employed 
 neumes (see Chap. V) superimposed over the words 
 (of the text to be sung) at distances varying according 
 to the pitch of the sound. This, though essentially 
 
 171 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 graphic, was inaccurate. Composers were already ac- 
 customed to draw two lines over the text, each of 
 which stood for a definite pitch, one for F, colored red, 
 and one for C, a fifth above, colored yellow, but the 
 pitch of notes between or below or above these lines 
 was, of course, still only indefinitely indicated by the 
 distance of the neumes from them. Guido therefore 
 added another line between these two, representing 
 A, and one above representing E, both colored black. 
 Thus the four-line staff was perfected. It has re- 
 mained the orthodox staff for plain-song down to the 
 present day. This improvement of notation, in addi- 
 tion to the hexachordal system and the invention of 
 solmisation, have all had a lasting influence upon 
 music, and through his close connection with them 
 Guido of Arezzo stands out as one of the most brilliant 
 figures in the early history of music. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Hardly a trace has survived of the development of 
 music during the fifty years after the death of Guido, 
 about 1050. The next works which cast light upon 
 music were written about 1100. One is the Musica of 
 Johannes Cotto, the other the anonymous Ad organum 
 faciendum mentioned above. In both works a wholly 
 new style of organum makes its appearance. In the 
 first place, the organizing voice now sings normally 
 above the cantus firmus, though the whole style is so 
 relatively free that the parts frequently cross each 
 other, sometimes coming to end with the organizing 
 voice below. In the second place. Contrary movement 
 in the voice parts is preferred to parallel or oblique 
 movement; that is, if the melody ascends, the accom- 
 panying voice, if possible, descends, and vice versa. 
 Thus the two melodies have each an individual free 
 movement and the science of polyphony is really under 
 
 172 
 
BEGINNING OF TRUE POLYPHONY 
 
 way. Moreover, they proceed now through a series of 
 consonances. There are no haphazard dissonances as 
 in the earlier free organum of both Hucbald and 
 Guido. The organizing voice is no longer directed only 
 in such a way as is easiest to avoid the hated tritone, 
 but is planned to sing always in consonance with the 
 cantus firmus. The following example illustrate;? the 
 movement of the parts in this new system : 
 
 Cotto is rather indififerent and, of course, dry about 
 the whole subject of organum. It occupied but a chap- 
 ter in his rather long treatise. But the 'Anonymus' 
 is full of enthusiasm and loud in his praises of this 
 method of part-singing and bold in his declaration of 
 its superiority over the unaccompanied plainsong. 
 Such enthusiasm smacks a little of the layman, and is 
 but another indication of the real origin of organum 
 in the improvised descant of the people, quite out of 
 the despotism of theory. The Anonymus gives a 
 great many rules for the conduct of the organizing or 
 improvising voice. He has divided the system into 
 two modes,- determined by the interval at which the 
 voices start out. For instance, rules of the first mode 
 state how the organizing voice must proceed when it 
 starts in unison with the cantus firmus, or at the oc- 
 tave. If it starts at the fourth or fifth it is controlled 
 by the rules of the second mode. There are three other 
 modes which are determined by the various progres- 
 sions of the parts in the middle of the piece. The di- 
 vision into modes and the rules are of little impor- 
 tance, for it is obvious that only the first few notes of 
 a piece are definitely influenced by the position at 
 which the parts start and that after this influence 
 ceases to make itself felt the modes dissolve into each 
 
 173 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 other. Thus, though the enthusiasm of the Anonymus 
 points to the popularity of the current practice of or- 
 ganizing, whatever it may have been, his rules are but 
 another example of the inability of theory to cope with 
 it. Still this theoretical composition continued to claim 
 the respect of teachers and composers late into the 
 second half of the twelfth century. 
 
 A treatise by Guy, Abbot of Chalis, about this time, 
 is concerned with essentially the same problems and 
 presents no really new point of view. He is practically 
 the last of the theorizing organizers. Organum gave 
 way to a new kind of music. In the course of over two 
 hundred years it had run perfectly within the narrow 
 limits to which it had been inevitably confined, and 
 the science of it was briefly this: to devise over any 
 given melody a counter-melody which accompanied it 
 note by note, moving, as far as possible, in contrary 
 motion, sinking to meet the melody when it rose, rising 
 away from it when it fell, and, with few exceptions, in 
 strictest concord of octaves, fifth, fourths, and unison. 
 Rules had been formulated to cover practically all com- 
 binations which could occur in the narrow scheme. 
 The restricted, cramped art then crumbled into dust 
 and disappeared. Again and again this process is 
 repeated in the history of music. The essence of music, 
 and, indeed, of any art, cannot be caught by rules and 
 theories. The stricter the rules the more surely will 
 music rebel and seek expression in new and natural 
 forms. We cannot believe that music in the Middle 
 Ages was not a means of expression, that it was not 
 warm with life; and therefore we cannot believe that 
 this dry organum of Hucbald and Odo, of Guido of 
 Arezzo, of Guy of Chalis, which was still-born of schol- 
 astic theory, is representative of the actual practice of 
 music, either in the church or among the people. On 
 the other hand, these excellent old monks were pio- 
 neers in the science of polyphonic writing. Inadequate 
 
 174 
 
MEASURED MUSIC 
 
 and confusing as their rules and theories may be, they 
 are none the less the iirst rules and theories in the 
 field, the first attempts to give to polyphony the dig- 
 nity and regularity of Art. 
 
 Meanwhile, long before Guy of Chalis had written 
 what may be taken as the final word on organum, the 
 new art which was destined to supplant it was develop- 
 ing both in England and in France. Two little pieces, 
 one Ut tuo propitiatus, the other Mira lege, miro modo, 
 have survived from the first part of the twelfth century. 
 Both are written in a freely moving style in which the 
 use of concords and discords appears quite unre- 
 stricted. Moreover, the second of them is distinctly 
 metrical, and in lively rhythm. It is noted with neumes 
 on a staff and the rhythm is evident only through the 
 words, for the neumes gave no indication of the length 
 or shortness of the notes which they represented, but 
 only their pitch. Now in both these little pieces there 
 are places where the organizing voice sings more than 
 one note to a note of the cantus firmus or vice versa. 
 So long as composers set only metrical texts to music 
 the rhythm of the verse easily determined the rhythm 
 in which the shorter notes were to be sung over the 
 longer; but the text of the mass was in uimietrical 
 prose, and if composers, in setting this to music in 
 more than one part, wished one part to sing several 
 notes to the other's one, they had no means of indicat- 
 ing the rhythm or measure in which these notes were 
 to be sung. Hence it became necessary for them to 
 invent a standard metrical measure and a system of 
 notation whereby it could be indicated. Their efforts 
 in this direction inaugurated the second period in the 
 history of polyphonic music, which is known as the 
 period of measured music, and which extends roughly 
 from the first half of the twelfth century to the first 
 quarter of the fourteenth, approximately from 1150 
 to 1325. 
 
 175 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 IV 
 
 Our information regarding the development of the 
 new art of measured m^usic comes mainly from treat- 
 ises which appeared in the course of these two centu- 
 ries. Among them the most important are the two 
 earliest, Discantus positio vulgaris and De nrnsica 
 libellus, both anonymous and both belonging to the 
 second half of the twelfth century; the De musica men- 
 surahili positio of Jean de Garlandia, written about 
 1245; and at last the great Ars cantus mensurabilis, 
 commonly attributed to Franco of Cologne, about 
 whose identity there is little certainty, and the work of 
 Walter Odington, the English mathematician, written 
 about 1280, De speculatione musices. As the earlier 
 theorists succeeded in compressing a certain kind of 
 music within the strict limits of mathematical theory, 
 so the mensuralists finally bound up music in an exact 
 arbitrary system from which it was again to break 
 free in the so-called Ars nova. But the field of their 
 efforts was much larger than that of the organum and 
 the results of their work consequently of more lasting 
 importance. 
 
 The first attempts were toward the perfecting of a 
 system of measuring music in time, and the outcome 
 was the Perfect System, a thoroughly arbitrary and 
 unnatural scheme of triple values. That the natural 
 division of a musical note is into two halves scarcely 
 needs an explanation. We therefore divide our whole 
 notes into half notes, the halves into quarters, the quar- 
 ters into eighths, and so forth. But the mensuralists 
 divided the whole note into three parts or two unequal 
 parts, and each of these into three more. The standard 
 note was the longa. It was theoretically held to con- 
 tain in itself the triple value of the perfect measure. 
 Hence it was called the longa perfecta. The first sub- 
 
 176 
 
MEASURED MUSIC 
 
 division of the longa in the perfect system was into 
 three brevis and of the brevis into three semi-brevis. 
 But in those cases in which the longa was divided into 
 two unequal parts one of these parts was still called a 
 longa. This longa, however, was considered imper- 
 fect, and its imperfection was made up by a brevis. 
 So, too, the perfect brevis could be divided into an im- 
 perfect and a semi-brevis. 
 
 Let us now consider the signs by which these values 
 were expressed. The sign for the longa, or long, as 
 we shall henceforth call it, was a modification of one of 
 
 the old neumes called a virga, written thus ^; that for 
 the brevis or breve came from the punctum, written 
 
 thus '. The new signs were long j and breve ■ . The 
 semi-breve was a lozenge-shaped alteration of the 
 
 breve, *. This seems simple enough until we come 
 across the distressful circumstances that the same sign 
 represented both the perfect and imperfect long, and 
 that the perfect and imperfect breve, too, shared the 
 same figure. The following table illustrates the early 
 mensural notes and their equivalents in modern nota- 
 tion. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 <Adlel later) 
 
 
 Perfect 
 long 
 
 — Ill 
 
 Imierfect 
 
 BreTla 
 
 recta 
 
 ■ 
 
 73 
 
 Brevis 
 altera 
 
 ■ 
 
 Seml-lrevls 
 minor 
 
 • 
 
 Seml-breTlB 
 major 
 
 r 
 
 
 SflDkiFinlolina 
 
 V 
 
 1 
 
 T 
 
 
 
 
 ^=^ 
 
 
 1 r ' 
 
 1 1 1 
 
 M=y 
 
 1 'g ' 
 
 In our age of utilitarian inspiration the imperfec- 
 tions of such a system of notation in which the two 
 most frequent signs had a twofold significance would 
 be remedied by the invention of other signs; but the 
 theorists of that day found it easier and more natural 
 to supplement the system with mmibers of rules where- 
 by the exact values of the notes could be determined. 
 For example, a long followed by another long was per- 
 fect; a long followed by a breve was imperfect and to 
 
 177 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 be valued as two beats. But a long followed by two 
 breves was perfect, for the two breves in themselves 
 made up a second perfect three, since one was consid- 
 ered as recta and the other as altera. A long followed 
 by three breves was obviously perfect, since the three 
 breves could not but make up a perfect measure. Simi- 
 lar rules governed the valuation of the breve. Three 
 breves between two longs were not to be altered, four 
 breves between two longs also remained unaltered, 
 since one of them counted to make up the imperfection 
 of the preceding long. But five breves required altera- 
 tion, the first three counting as one perfect measure, 
 the last two attaining perfection by the alteration of 
 the second of them. Semi-breves were also subject 
 to the laws of perfection and alteration and were gov- 
 erned by much the same laws as governed the breves. 
 One who had mastered all these laws was able to read 
 music with more or less certainty, though it must have 
 been necessary for him to look ahead constantly, in 
 order to estimate the value of the note actually before 
 him. 
 
 Later theorists did not fail to associate the mysteries 
 of the perfect system of triple values with the Trinity, 
 and thus sprang up the belief that the earlier mensur- 
 alists had had the perfection of the Trinity in mind 
 when they allotted to the perfect longa its measure of 
 three values. Yet, clumsy as the system of triple val- 
 ues was, it was founded upon perfectly rational prin- 
 ciples. It was the best compromise in music between 
 several poetic metres, some of which, like the Iambic 
 and Trochaic, are essentially triple; others, like the 
 Dactylic and Anapaestic, essentially double. Music, 
 during all the years while the mensuralists were su- 
 preme, was profoundly influenced by poetic metres. 
 All these had been reduced by means of the triple 
 proportion to six formulas or modes, and every piece 
 of music was theoretically in one or another of these 
 
 178 
 
MEASURED MUSIC 
 
 modes. Such a definite classification of various 
 rhytiims, besides being eminently gratifying to the 
 learned theorists, was of considerable assistance to the 
 singer in his way through the maze of mensural nota- 
 tion, who, knowing the mode in which he was to sing, 
 had but to fit the notes before him into the persistent, 
 generally unvarying, rhythm proper to that mode. 
 Composers were well aware of the monotony of one 
 rhythm long continued. They therefore interrupted 
 the beats by pauses, and occasionally shifted in the 
 midst of a piece from one mode to another. The 
 pauses were represented by vertical lines across the 
 staff, and the length of the pause was determined by 
 the length of the line — the perfect pause of three beats 
 being represented by a line drawn up through three 
 spaces, the imperfect pause of two beats by one cross- 
 ing two spaces and the others in proportion. The end 
 was marked by a line drawn across the entire staff. 
 So far the complexities of the mensural system of 
 notation are not too difficult to follow with compara- 
 tive ease. But the longs, the breves and the semi- 
 breves were employed only in the notation of syllabic 
 music; that is, of music in which each note corresponds 
 to a syllable of the text. In those cases where one 
 syllable was extended through several notes, another 
 form of notation was employed. The several notes so 
 sung were bound together in one complex sign called 
 a ligature. The ligatures, like the longs and the breves, 
 were adaptations of old neumatic signs. In the old 
 plainsong the flourishes or melismas on single syllables 
 were sung in a free rhythm; but the mensuralists were 
 determined to reduce every phrase of music to exact 
 rhythmical proportions, and these easy, graceful, soar- 
 ing ornaments were crushed with the rest in the iron 
 grip of their system. Hence the ligatures were inter- 
 preted according to the strictest rules. A few examples 
 will serve to show the extraordinary complexity of the 
 
 179 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 sysfem. Among the old neumatic signs which stood 
 for a series of notes two were of especially frequent 
 occurrence. These were the podatus,^ , and the 
 clwis,/\ Of these the first represented an ascending 
 series, the second — which seems to have developed 
 from the circumflex accent — a descending series. It 
 will be noticed that the clivis begins with an upward 
 stroke to the first note, which is represented by the 
 heavy part of the line at the top of the curve. The 
 podatus has no such stroke. Several other signs were 
 derived from these two, and those derived from the 
 clivis began always with this upward stroke, and those 
 from the podatus were without it. Thus all ascending 
 ornaments were represented by a neume which had 
 no preliminary stroke, all descending ornaments by 
 one with the preliminary stroke. This characteristic 
 peculiarity was maintained by the mensuralists in their 
 ligatures. The podatus became - 3 , the clivis 
 ^ • '" In so far as the mensural system of notation 
 was graphic, in that the position of the notes in the 
 scale presented accurately the direction of the chang- 
 ing pitch of the sounds they stood for, there was no 
 need of preserving in the ligatures such peculiarities 
 of the neumatic signs. But, on the other hand, these 
 peculiarities were needed to represent the mensural 
 value of the notes in the ligatures, the more so because 
 the mensuralists were determined to allow no freedom 
 in the rendering of those ornaments in ligature, but 
 rather to reduce each one to an exact numerical value. 
 Hence we find two kinds of ligatures : those which pre- 
 served the traits inherited from their neumatic an- 
 cestors, and those in which such marks were lacking. 
 The first were very properly called cum proprietate, 
 the others sine proprietate; and the rule was that in 
 every ligature cum proprietate the first note was a 
 breve, while in every ligature sine proprietate it was 
 
 180 
 
FAUX-BOURDON AND GYMEL 
 
 a long. If the ligature represented a series of breves 
 and semi-breves, the preliminary stroke was upward 
 from the note, not to it, thus: \^. 
 
 Further than this we need not go in our explanation 
 of notation according to the mensiu-al system. The 
 mensuralists had their way and reduced all music to 
 a purely arbitrary system of triple proportion, and 
 their notation, though bewildering and complex, was 
 practically without flaw. The reaction from it will 
 be treated in the next chapter. Meanwhile we have to 
 consider what forms of music developed under this 
 new method. 
 
 Regarding the relations of the voice parts, one is 
 struck by the new attitude toward consonance and dis- 
 sonance of which they give proof. In the old and in 
 the free organum only four intervals were admitted 
 as consonant — the unison, the fourth, the fifth, and 
 the octave. The third and the sixth, which add so 
 much color to our harmony, were appreciated and con- 
 sidered pleasant only just before the final unison or 
 octave. The mensurahsts admitted them as consonant, 
 though they qualified them as imperfect. For, true to 
 the time in which they lived, they divided the con- 
 sonants theoretically into classes — the octave and uni- 
 son being defined as perfect, the fourth and the fifth 
 as intermediate, the third and later the sixth as im- 
 perfect. So far did the love of system carry them that, 
 feeling the need of a balancing theory of dissonances, 
 these were divided into three classes similarly defined 
 as perfect, intermediate, and imperfect. We should, 
 indeed, be hard put to-day to discriminate between a 
 perfect and an imperfect discord. Of the imperfect 
 consonances the thirds were first to be recognized, the 
 minor third being preferred, as less imperfect, to the 
 
 181 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 major. The major sixth came next and the last to 
 be consecrated was the minor sixth, which, for some 
 years after the major had been admitted among the 
 tolerably pleasant concords, was held to be intoler- 
 ably dissonant. The fact that these concords, now held 
 to be the richest and most satisfying in music, were 
 then called imperfect is striking proof of the perse- 
 verance of the old classical ideas of concord and dis- 
 cord inherited from the Greeks. Again, one must 
 suspect that theory and practice do not walk hand in 
 hand through the history of music in the Middle Ages. 
 The admission of thirds and sixths even grudgingly 
 among the consonant intervals is proof that through 
 some common or popular practice of singing they 
 had become familiar and pleasant to the ears of men. 
 We have already mentioned the possible origin of 
 organum in the practice of improvising counter-melo- 
 dies which seems to have existed among the Celts and 
 Germans of Europe at a very early age. There is 
 some reason to believe that in this practice thirds and 
 sixths played an important role; in fact, that there 
 were two kinds of organizing or descant, one of which, 
 called gymel, consisted wholly of thirds, the other, 
 called faux-bourdon, of thirds and sixths. These kinds 
 of organizing, it is true, are not mentioned by name 
 until nearly the close of the fourteenth century, but 
 there is evidence that they were of ancient origin. 
 Whether or not these were the popular practices which 
 brought the agreeable nature of thirds and sixths to 
 the attention of the mensuralists has not yet been defi- 
 nitely determined. The reader is referred to Dr. Rie- 
 mann's Geschichte der Musiktheorie im IX-XIV Jahr- 
 hundert (Leipzig, 1898), and the 'Oxford History of 
 Music,' Vol. I, by H. E. Wooldridge (Part I, p. 160), for 
 discussions on both sides of the question. The word 
 gymel was derived from the Latin gemellus, meaning 
 twin, and the cantus gemellus, or organizing in thirds, 
 
 182 
 
FORMS OF MENSURAL COMPOSITION 
 
 in fact, consists of twin melodies. Faux-bourdon 
 means false burden, or bass. The term was applied to 
 the practice of singers who sang the lowest part of a 
 piece of music an octave higher than it was actually 
 written. If the chord C-E-G is so sung then it becomes 
 E-G-C, and whereas in the original chord as written 
 the intervals are the third, from C to E, and the fifth, 
 from C to G, in the transposed form the intervals are 
 the third, from E to G, and the sixth, from E to C, of 
 which intervals faux-bourdon consisted. The origin 
 of this 'false singing' offered by Mr. Wooldridge,* 
 though properly belonging in a later period, may be 
 summarized here* 
 
 By the first quarter of the fourteenth century the 
 methods of descant had become thoroughly obnoxious 
 to the ecclesiastical authorities and the Pope, John 
 XXII, issued a decree in 1322 for the restriction of 
 descant and for the reestablishing of plainsong. The 
 old parallel organum of the fifth and fourth was still 
 allowed. Singers, chafing under the severe restraint, 
 added a third part between the cantus firmus and the 
 fifth which on the written page looked innocent enough 
 to escape detection, and further enriched the effect of 
 their singing by transposing their plainsong to the oc- 
 tave above, which, as we have seen, then moved in 
 the pleasant relation of the sixth to the written middle 
 part. Thus, though the written parts looked in the 
 book sufficiently like the old parallel organum, the 
 effect of the singing was totally different. However, 
 this explanation of the origin of the term faux-bour- 
 don leaves us still unenlightened as to how the sixth 
 had come to sound so agreeably to the ears of these 
 rebellious singers. 
 
 Having perfected a system of notation, and having 
 admitted the intervals pleasantest to our ears among 
 
 * Op, cit.. Part n. 
 
 183 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the consonances to be allowed, having thus broadly 
 widened their technique and the possibilities of music, 
 we might well expect pleasing results from the men- 
 suralists. But their music is, as a matter of fact, for 
 the most part rigid and harsh. Several new forms 
 of composition had been invented and had been per- 
 fected, notably by the two great organists of Notre 
 Dame in Paris, Leo or Leonin, and his successor, Pero- 
 tin. It is customary to group these compositions under 
 three headings, namely, compositions in which all parts 
 have the same words, compositions in which not all 
 parts have words, and compositions in which the parts 
 have different words. Among the first the cantilena 
 (chanson), the rondel and rota are best understood, 
 though the distinction between the cantilena and the 
 rondel is not evident. The rondel was a piece in which 
 each voice sang a part of the same melody in turn, all 
 singing together; but, whereas in the rota one voice be- 
 gan alone and the others entered each after the other 
 with the same melody at stated intervals, until all were 
 singing together, in the rondel all voices began to- 
 gether, each singing its own melody, which was, in turn, 
 exchanged for that of the others. Among the composi- 
 tions of the second class (in which not all parts have 
 words), the conductus and the organum purum were 
 most in favor. Both are but vaguely understood. The 
 organum purum, evidently the survival of the old free 
 descant, was written for two, three, or even four 
 voices. The tenor sang the tones of a plainsong melody 
 in very long notes, while the other voices sang florid 
 melodies above it, merely to vocalizing syllables. The 
 conductus differed from this mainly in that such pas- 
 sages of florid descant over extended syllables of the 
 plainsong were interspersed with passages in which 
 the plainsong moved naturally in metrical rhythm, 
 and in which the descant accompanied it note for note. 
 In the conductus composers made use of all the devices 
 
 184 
 
FORMS OF MENSURAL COMPOSITION 
 
 of imitation and sequence which were at their com- 
 mand. Finally, the third class of compositions named 
 above is represented by the Motet. 
 
 The Motet is by far the most remarkable of all 
 forms invented by the mensuralists. In the tirst place, 
 a melody, usually some bit of plainsong, was written 
 down in a definite rhythmical formula. There were 
 several of these formulae, called ordines, at the service 
 of the composers. The tenor part was made up of the 
 repetition of this short formal phrase. Over this two 
 descanting parts were set, which might be original with 
 the composer, but which later were almost invariably 
 two songs, preferably secular songs. These two songs 
 were simply forced into rhythmical conformity to the 
 tenor. They were slightly modified so as to come into 
 consonance with each other and with the tenor at the 
 beginning and end of the lines. Apart from this they 
 were in no way related, either to each other or to the 
 tenor. So came about the remarkable series of compo- 
 sitions in which three distinct songs, never intended 
 to go together, are bound fast to each other by the rules 
 of measured music, in which the tenor drones a non- 
 sense syllable, while the descant and the treble may 
 be singing, the one the praises of the Virgin, the other 
 the praises of good wine in Paris. This is surely the 
 triumphant non plus ultra of the mensuralists. Here, 
 indeed, the rules of measured music preside in iron 
 sway. Not only have the old free ornaments of the early 
 church music been rigorously cramped to a formula 
 and all the kinds of metre reduced to a stiff rule of 
 triple perfection, but the quaint old hymns of the 
 church have been crushed with the gay, mad songs of 
 Paris down hard upon a droning, inexorable tenor 
 which, like a fettered convict, works its slow way 
 along. A reaction was inevitable and it was swift to 
 follow. 
 
 L.H. 
 185 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 SECULAR MUSIC OF THE MIDDLE AGES 
 
 Popular music; fusion of secular and ecclesiastic spirit; Paganism and 
 Christianity; the epic — Folksong; early types in France, complainte, narra- 
 tive song, dance song; Germany and the North; occupational songs — Vagrant 
 musicians; jongleurs, minstrels; the love song — Troubadours and Trouvferes; 
 Adam de la HaUe — The Minnesinger; the Meistersinger; influence on Refor- 
 mation and Renaissance. 
 
 However slim the records of early church music 
 they still suffice to give some clews to the origin and 
 nature of the first religious songs. But, when we turn 
 to the question of secular song at the beginning of our 
 era, we are baffled by an utter lack of tangible mate- 
 rial. For the same monks to whom we are indebted for 
 the early examples of sacred music were religious fan- 
 atics who looked with hostile eyes upon the profane 
 creations of their lay contemporaries. Yet we may 
 be confident of the continued and uninterrupted exist- 
 ence not only of some sort of folk music, but also of 
 the germs at least of an art music, however crude, 
 throughout that period of confusion incident to, and 
 following, the crumbling of the Roman empire. 
 
 We need but point to our discourse upon the music 
 of primitive peoples (Chap. I), the traces of musical 
 culture left by the ancients (Chap. II), and especially 
 the high achievements of the Greeks (Chap. IV), as 
 evidence that, whatever the stage of a people's intel- 
 lectual development, music is a prime factor of indi- 
 vidual and racial expression. Furtherrriore, at almost 
 every period there is recognizable the distinction be- 
 tween folk music proper — the spontaneous collective 
 
 186 
 
SECULAR AND ECCLESIASTIC SPIRIT 
 
 expression of racial sentiment — and the more sophis- 
 ticated creations which we may designate as art. Thus 
 the music transmitted by the Greeks to the Romans, 
 if added to ever so slightly, no doubt was continued 
 with the other forms of Greek culture. The symposias, 
 scolia, and lyrics of Hellas had their progeny in the 
 odes of Horace and Catullus; the bards, the aoeds, and 
 rhapsodists had their counterpart — degenerate, if you 
 will — in the histriones, the gladiators, and performers 
 in the arena of declining Rome. Turning to the 'Rar- 
 barians' who caused the empire's fall, -we learn that 
 already Tacitus recorded the activities of the German 
 bardit who intoned war songs before their chiefs and 
 inspired them to new victories; while Athenseus and 
 Didorus Siculus both tell of the Celtic bards who had 
 an organization in the earliest Middle Ages and were 
 regularly educated for their profession. 
 
 Recause of the fact that our earliest musical records 
 are ecclesiastical, the impression might prevail that 
 modern music had its origin in the Christian church. 
 Rut, although almost completely subjected to it as its 
 guardian mother, and almost wholly occupied in its 
 service, the beginnings of Christian music antedate 
 the church itself. Pagan rites had their music no less 
 than Christian. Just as we find elements of Greek 
 philosophy in the teaching of Christianity, so the 
 church reconciled Pagan festivals with its own holi- 
 days, and with them adapted elements of Pagan music. 
 Thus our Easter was a continuation of the Pagan May- 
 day festivals, and in the old Easter hymn O filii et filiae 
 we find again the old Celtic may day songs, the chan- 
 sons de quite which still survive in France. We here 
 reproduce one above the other: 
 
 187 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 En re-ve - oant d^-dans les cIiamps,Eii re-ve ■ nant de-dans les champs. 
 
 The midwinter festival, merged into our Christmas, 
 and the midsummer festival, corresponding to the 
 feast of St. John the Baptist, both became connected 
 with masses and songs common to both beliefs; the 
 Tonus Peregrinus, sung to the psalm 'When Israel 
 came out of Egypt,' already an old melody in the ninth 
 century, is almost identical with old French secular 
 songs, and we have already observed the adoption of 
 vulgar melodies into 'sequences' and motets. 
 
 It must be remembered that for a considerable pe- 
 riod Christianity and Paganism coexisted as tolerant 
 companions. The former could not totally blot out 
 the traditions, customs, conventions, ideas, and myths 
 of classic Paganism which were rooted in the popular 
 consciousness. 'AH through the Middle Ages,' says 
 Symonds, 'uneasy and imperfect memories of Greece 
 and Rome had haunted Europe. Alexander, the great 
 conqueror; Hector, the noble knight and lover; Helen, 
 who set Troy town on fire; Virgil, the magician; Dame 
 Venus, lingering about the hill of Horsel — these phan- 
 toms, whereof the positive historic truth was lost, re- 
 mained to sway the soul and stimulate desire in myth 
 and saga.' * 
 
 Associated with these myths were the traditions na- 
 tive to the Celtic and Germanic peoples. The very 
 bards of whom we spoke are known to have entered 
 the service of the church in great number, though this 
 did not prevent their travelling from castle to castle 
 to sing before the princes ballads in praise of their 
 heroic ancestors. Of these epics, hero tales, strange 
 
 * 'Renaissance Jn Italy,* Vol. n. 
 
 188 
 
THE MEDIAEVAL EPIC 
 
 stories of conquest and adventure the nations of cen- 
 tral Europe possessed a rich treasure, and we hear that 
 about A. D. 800 Charlemagne, the sovereign patron of 
 liberal arts, ordered a collection of them to be made. 
 
 Tolerant though he was of the traditions of his peo- 
 ple, the profane songs of love and satire, sometimes 
 indecent, which were sung about the churches, became 
 subjects of his censure; and no doubt the trouble they 
 caused was but one indication of the growing antago- 
 nism between Christian and non-Christian, the intoler- 
 ance of the later Middle Ages. Already Charles' son, 
 Ludwig the Pious, looked with disfavor upon the 
 heathen epics. As time went on and clerical influence 
 broadened, the personalities of Pagan tradition became 
 associated with the spirit of evil; Dame Venus had now 
 become the she-devil, the seductress of pious knights.* 
 This again gave rise to new ideas, traditions, and super- 
 stitions; the mystic and the supernatural caught hold 
 of the people's fancy and were reflected in their poetry 
 and song. 
 
 Among the earliest epics, of which the verses are 
 extant, are fragments such as the song on the victory 
 of Clothar II over the Saxons in 622 A. D. Helgaire, a 
 historian of the ninth century, tells us that, 'thanks to 
 its rustic character, it ran from lip to lip; when it was 
 sung the women provided the chorus by clapping their 
 hands.' Its Latin text is said to be merely a translation 
 of a popular version, which would antedate the earliest 
 known vernacular song by over two centuries. Of a 
 more advanced type is the Song of Roland, that famous 
 chronicle of the death of the Count of Brittany in the 
 Pass of Roncesvalles, during Charlemagne's return 
 from the conquest of the Spanish march. Its musical 
 notation was lost, but it was sung as late as 1356 at 
 the battle of Poitiers. Though this great epic consists 
 
 * The legend of Tannhauser, perpetuated in Wagner's opera, is an 
 example of this superstition. 
 
 189 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of no less than four thousand verses, Tiersot points 
 out that its hero had long been celebrated in innumer- 
 able short lyrics, easy to remember, which all the peo- 
 ple sang. Many were the epics describing the valiant 
 deeds of Charlemagne himself, and posterity deified 
 him as the hero of heroes in numerous strains that are 
 lost to us. But one of which the music has been de- 
 ciphered, though with varying results, is the Planctus 
 Karoli, a complainte on the death of the great em- 
 peror (813 A. D.) .* Then there is the quaint vernacular 
 song in praise of King Ludwig III, celebrating his vic- 
 tory over the Normans (832 A. D.) : 
 
 'Einen Kuning weiz ich 
 Heisset Herr Lndwig 
 Der gerne Gott dienet 
 Weil er ihms lohnet,' etc. 
 
 ('A king I know, named Lord Ludwig, who serves God gladly, 
 for he rewards him,' etc.) 
 
 But with isolated exceptions like this one all the 
 early epics were written in Latin; even the early songs 
 of the first crusaders (eleventh century) are still in 
 that language. Their origin may in many instances 
 have been ecclesiastical; written by some monk se- 
 cluded within his monastery walls, they may never 
 have been sung by the people; their melodies, akin to 
 the plain chant of the church, may never have entered 
 into the popular consciousness. Yet it is in the popu- 
 lar consciousness that we must look for the true origin 
 of mediaeval secular music. In folk song itself we 
 must seek the germs of the art which bore such rich 
 blossoms as the Troubadour and Minnesinger lyrics 
 and which in turn refreshed by its influence the music 
 of the church itself. 
 
 * Complainte was the generic name for the narrative form of song; 
 the later chansons de geste, the legend of the Passion and of the Saints, 
 early romances and the ballades of the peasants all belonged to this genus. 
 
 190 
 
EARLY FRENCH FOLK SONGS 
 
 II 
 
 As folk songs we are wont to designate those lyrics 
 of simple character which, handed down from genera- 
 tion to generation, are the common property of all 
 the people. Every nation, regardless of the degree 
 of its musical intelligence, possesses a stock of such 
 songs, so natural in their simple ingenuity as to disarm 
 the criticism of art, whose rules they follow uncon- 
 sciously and with perfect concealment of means. Their 
 origin is often lost in the obscurity of tradition and we 
 accept them generally and without question as part 
 and parcel of our racial inheritance. Yet, while in a 
 sense spontaneous, every folk song did originate in 
 the consciousness of some one person. The fact that 
 we do not know its author's name argues simply that 
 the song has outlived the memory of him who created 
 it. He was a man of the people, more gifted than his 
 fellows, who saw the world through a poet's eye, but 
 who spoke the same language, was reared in the same 
 traditions, and swayed by the same passions and senti- 
 ments as they who were unable to express such things 
 in memorable form. This fellow, whose natural lan- 
 guage is music, becomes their spokesman; their heart- 
 beats are the accents of his song. His talent is inde- 
 pendent of culture. A natural facility, an introspec- 
 tive faculty and a certain routine suffice to give his 
 song the coherence and definiteness of pattern which 
 fasten it upon the memory. Language is the only requi- 
 site for the transmission of his art. Once language is 
 fixed and has become the common property of the peo- 
 ple, this song, vibrating the heart-strings of its makers' 
 countrymen, will be repeated by another who per- 
 chance will fashion others like it; his son, if he be 
 gifted like himself, will do likewise and so the inex- 
 haustible well of popular genius will flow unceasingly 
 from age to age. 
 
 191 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 In the sentiments and thoughts common to all, then, 
 we will find the impulses of the songs which we shall 
 now discuss. Considering the different shades of our 
 temperament, sadness, contentment, gladness, and ex- 
 uberance, we find that each gives rise to a species of 
 song, of which the second is naturally the least distinc- 
 tive, the two extremes calling for the most decisive 
 expression. Now sadness and melancholy have their 
 concrete causes, and it is in the narration of these 
 causes that the heart vents its sorrow. Hence the nar- 
 rative form, the complainte, whose very name would 
 confirm our reasoning, is the earliest form of folk song 
 in the vulgar tongue. In a warlike people this would 
 naturally dwell upon warlike heroic themes, and we 
 have already pointed out the early origin of the epic. 
 The musical form of epic was perhaps the simplest of 
 all, taking for its sole rhythm the accent of the words, 
 one or two short phrases, chanted much in the manner 
 of the plainsong, sufficing for innumerable verses. It is 
 notable, too, that the church, adroitly seizing upon 
 popular music as a power of influence, adopted this 
 form to another genus, the legende, which, though 
 developed by clericals, struck as deep a root in the 
 people's imagination. Thus we see in the ninth cen- 
 tury the 'Chant of St. Eulalia,' and in the tenth the 
 'Life of St. Leger,' which already shows great advance 
 in form, being composed in couplets of two, four, and 
 six verses, alternating. Possessed of better means of 
 perpetuation this religious epic flourished better and 
 survived longer than the heroic complainte. 
 
 Still another genus was what we might call the popu- 
 lar complaintes, the chansons narratives, which dealt 
 with the people's own characters, with the common 
 causes of woe; the common soldier and the peasant; 
 the death of a husband or a son. Such a one is the 
 Chanson de Renaud, which is considered the classic 
 type of popular song. It is sung in every part of 
 
 192 
 
EARLY FRENCH FOLK SONGS 
 
 France, and its traces are found in Spain, Italy, Swe- 
 den, and Norway. It is unquestionably of great age, 
 though its date cannot be fixed. 
 
 Grave 
 
 Quand Jean Re-naud de giier-re t'Tint, Te-nait ses tri - pes dans sea 
 
 mains. Samcrea la fe-setre en haut^Voi-ct ve-nir man fUsAe- sand'.' 
 
 This strain is sung through thirteen stanzas, recount- 
 ing Renaud's return from the wars to his home, where 
 mother and wife await him, only to die upon the stroke 
 of midnight. The mother artfully conceals the fact 
 from his young spouse till finally she hears the news 
 from the boys in the street and sees the catafalque in 
 the church. Her grief is expressed in two final stanzas 
 upon this melody: 
 
 4MlJ^'i' JMJ J' lw,l 1 V J-' J' JMJ. i' Ji hi 
 
 -fl-i— 
 
 Ro-naud, Be - nand, mon re-con - fort, 
 
 , . ^ 
 
 4^ 1 1 K h Ml J' J^ hi 1 hi^J'IJ' hJ Jni 1 hV7B 
 
 ii 
 
 » ji » - . - ». - 
 
 
 mortal Di-Tin Re naudnon T6-Con-fort, Tevoi-la. done an rang des mortsl_ 
 
 the last stanza very naively telling of her own death: 
 
 'She had said for him three verses; at the first she confessed. 
 At the second she took sacrament; at the third she expired.' 
 
 The music is notable not only for its perfect sym- 
 metry and the fidelity with which it expresses the sen- 
 timent, but also its discriminating use of the natural 
 and flatted B to produce a plaintive effect. (To both 
 the employment of 'modem' tonality and the chromatic 
 element in popular song we shall have occasion to re- 
 turn.) The 6/8 rhythm is no less remarkable, giving 
 the piece a crispness and definiteness never attained 
 by mediaeval church music. 
 
 193 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Parallel to the narrative song there developed a 
 lighter genre, as old as the complainte itself, which 
 corresponds to comedy as the latter does to tragedy. 
 Its personages are the same, but stripped of all their 
 sombre aspect; its story has a happy conclusion; its 
 subject is not infrequently comic and satirical. Tier- 
 sot quotes, in contrast to the Chanson de Renaud, an 
 example which is still heard in the provinces of 
 France.* Like the song already quoted, it narrates the 
 return of soldiers from the war, but, where the first 
 has the mark of death upon him, the other returns with 
 a 'rose between his lips.' It is perhaps not so old as the 
 Chanson de Renaud, but equally characteristic and par- 
 ticularly 'Gallic' in flavor: 
 
 .Animato 
 
 re-v&^aiitdeguerre,EIt rl et ran, raiip&-ta-plui, 
 
 in re-ve-Dont de gner-re. 
 
 Note the crisp rhythm, the decided major tonality, 
 and the exuberant spirit of the song. Many early 
 melodies show these same characteristics, which at 
 once remind us of that other elemental form of folk 
 music — the dance song, in which rhythm is the essential 
 element. 
 
 Rhythm is the feature which most of all distinguishes 
 popular song, and secular music in general, from 
 church music. It is the essentially emotional quality 
 of music which the Christian church carefully excluded 
 from its chant. We have seen, however, how peo- 
 ple's primitive instinct causes them to mark the rhythm 
 of a melody (Chap. I) and beheld the women clap- 
 ping their hands to the tune of the complainte of 
 Clothar II. Dependent upon simple formulas which 
 
 * Julien Tiersot : L'histoire da chanson populaire en France. 
 
 194 
 
GERMANY AND THE NORTH 
 
 could be easily grasped and remembered, folk song 
 naturally chose the simplest rhythmic and melodic 
 types. Hence the dance became one of the principal 
 root-stocks of secular music. An element which was 
 never admitted into the narrative form, the refrain, is 
 a distinguishing characteristic of the dance song, and 
 in it we see the germ of the earliest of our modern 
 instrumental forms, the rondeau, originally the name 
 of a dance. The dance song was perhaps the most 
 varied in melodies, for the wayfaring musicians of the 
 Middle Ages carried them from village to village and 
 from country to country, so that there was a continu- 
 ous international exchange. 
 
 The rhythmic nature of folk song carries us into 
 another field of speculation, namely, the influence of 
 the people's daily occupations, the close relation be- 
 tween daily life and song in ages when life in its in- 
 dividual and social manifestations could be reduced to 
 simple formulae. Occupational songs have from earli- 
 est times (cf. Chap. IV) been an important factor in 
 folk music, and it is obvious that early in the Middle 
 Ages such songs were closely associated with the move- 
 ments of the hmnan body in various occupations. Dr. 
 Biicher * calls attention to the fact that the blacksmith 
 at his anvil, the navvy in the street, are striking iam- 
 bi, trochees, spondees, dactyls, and anapests. He 
 has collected an enormous amount of folk songs that 
 were sung by the woodman as he wielded his axe, by 
 the boatman plying his oars, by the peasant as he 
 plowed his acre, scattered the seed, mowed the field, 
 and reaped the harvest. This, however, pertains par- 
 ticularly to Germany, where Bucher's investigations 
 were chiefly carried on, and whither we must now di- 
 rect the reader's attention. 
 
 To trace and formulate distinctions between the folk 
 songs of the northern and southern nations is a haz- 
 
 *Karl Bflcher: Arbeit and Rhgthmus. 
 
 195 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 ardous undertaking, since the Celtic element which so 
 largely determines the music of Ireland, Scotland, and 
 Wales is also present in France and Spain, and since 
 the wars between the various races, as well as the great 
 international movements of the Crusades, tended to 
 modify national distinctions. All these meetings and 
 collisions between the different nations have left traces 
 in the songs of the individual peoples. However, 
 northern folk song may in general be said to be simpler 
 and more regular in outline and striving for greater 
 continuity of design or pattern than southern. Rhythm 
 is simpler, firmer, and less given to eccentricities. The 
 tonality is usually clearer and minor scales seem to 
 predominate. In the dance songs the passionate and 
 boisterous element, characteristic of the dances of the 
 Slavic and Latin races, is lacking. 
 
 The folk song of Northern Europe draws largely 
 upon the stock of topics held in common. Ever since 
 Johann Gottfried Herder, in his Stimmen der Volker 
 in Liedern ('The Voices of the Peoples in Song'), called 
 attention to the treasures of folk song, the patient re- 
 search of painstaking scholars has brought forth proof 
 upon proof to show how closely the nations of the 
 North are related, in spite of political boundary lines 
 and other barriers. The recurrence of the same saga 
 or story of ancient myth or hero-lore in Scandinavian 
 song and in German, the resemblance between the Ger- 
 man Tannhauser, the Swedish knight Olaf, the Scot- 
 tish Thomas the Rhymer, and the Flemish Heer Daniel 
 or Heer Halewyn, make the question of priority seem 
 irrelevant. North and south of the Channel, and even 
 east and west of the Rhine, the contents of legendary 
 song are curiously aUke. 
 
 In manner, too, northern folk songs have many fea- 
 tures in common; an instinctive simplicity of language, 
 a freedom from obscurities and far-fetched allusions, 
 the prevalence of a four-line strophe and alliteration 
 
 196 
 
GERMANY AND THE NORTH 
 
 and assonance which only in time yield to rhyme. The 
 singing of the same tune to an indefinite number of 
 lines or stanzas is common to Celtic bards, Norse 
 skalds, and German singers, and links them to their 
 forerunners in classical antiquity, the Greek rhapso- 
 dists. In following the outline of the poem, the melody 
 is usually cast in lines, each closing with a cadence 
 or 'fall'; the lines form groups or couplets, either simi- 
 lar or dissimilar, in the manner of rhjrming verse-lines. 
 The first couple of phrases is repeated to give the struc- 
 ture stability; the middle portion forms the contrast, 
 either by being broken up into shorter lengths or 
 founded upon different notes of the scale. The domi- 
 nant in the middle cadence is of frequent occurrence. 
 The rhythm is simple. 
 
 Impressionable and receptive by nature, the Ger- 
 man people have always been given to imitation of 
 foreign models and there is no doubt that the inter- 
 national movements during the Crusades and the visits 
 of wandering minstrels of foreign birth introduced 
 alien elements and obliterated some of the original 
 features of German folk song. The pathetic rise of a 
 tune through the fifth to the minor seventh suggests 
 Scandinavian influence; the alternation of major and 
 relative minor may be traced to the same source. Still 
 the German Volkslied has some traits that distinguish 
 it from the folk song of other northern nations. It is 
 more firmly knit, more formal, and less emotional. 
 Unlike English song, which favors a repetition of short 
 phrases, a single figure which, repeated on different 
 degrees of the scale, sometimes makes up the whole 
 tune, German folk song repeats short phrases only to 
 establish balance after contrast or to make the essen- 
 tial parts of the structure correspond. There is a 
 marked tendency to make the formal climax coincide 
 with the emotional, but in this respect the Volkslied 
 does not reach the admirable symmetry of the Irish 
 
 197 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 folk song. A distinctive form is the 'JodeV or 'Jodler' 
 of the mountaineers of Germany, the Tyrol, and Switz- 
 erland. Based upon broken chords or arpeggios, it 
 suggests, as do some other folk songs built upon a 
 harmonic foundation, that the German people had an 
 innate sense for diatonic harmony long before harmony 
 as such became an element of musical composition.* 
 With the exception of the Jodler, which is unique for 
 its exuberance of spirit, the Volkslied is rather re- 
 served and contained in manner. It reflects the seri- 
 ous, contemplative character and the healthy, well- 
 poised temperament of a physically and spiritually 
 strong race. 
 
 Song and dance entered largely into the life of me- 
 diaeval German villages and towns. When village 
 communities depended upon their own resources for 
 work and play, every village had its own musicians. 
 The peasant boys usually played the fiddle, the shep- 
 herds the Schalmey, while the flute was hardly less pop- 
 ular. In the towns there were several functionaries 
 identified with certain forms of song. The watchman 
 on the town wall (Turmer) was blowing a tune on his 
 horn; the 'wait' or Nachtwdchter admonished the peo- 
 ple to observe the curfew hour and repair for the 
 night; and, when the Postilion or courier came through 
 the gates with clatter of hoofs and cracking of whips, 
 the rousing notes of his horn brought young and old 
 into the street to greet the bringer of news. The small- 
 est community had its 'town piper.' There was no 
 festivity without song or dance, and the instrumental- 
 ist playing for the dance was accompanied by a pre- 
 cientor for the singing and a leader for the steps. The 
 great variety of occupations and pastimes accompanied 
 by song and dance made for a great variety of folk 
 
 * The 'cow-hom tune' of Salzburg (fourteenth century) suggests that 
 the arpeggio manner may have been derived from the horn itself, which 
 -was the most common instrument in the pastoral regions of the Tyrol and 
 Switzerland. 
 
 198 
 
VAGRANT MUSICIANS 
 
 tunes. From this folk song of mediaeval Germany, deal- 
 ing with the realities of life in their manifold mani- 
 festations, one could almost reconstruct the whole life 
 of the race, its history, beliefs, superstitions, activities, 
 social and domestic customs, its intimate domestic re- 
 lations and its important public functions. The Tage, 
 Leichen, Tanz, Spruch, Zauber, and Wiinschelieder. 
 the harvest, spinning, soldiers', and other trade and 
 labor songs are a musical commentary as illuminating 
 to the historian as any other relics of the past. 
 
 Many beautiful melodies still heard by the traveller 
 in Brittany, Normandy, Provence, or the rural sections 
 of Germany, date from the Middle Ages. Their charm 
 and their vitality are such that they have survived the 
 onslaught of advancing civilization for eight centuries 
 or more. They take us back to the time when agri- 
 culture was the one great pursuit of man, when in 
 solitude song lightened his labor and in company song 
 cheered his rest; when every custom, ceremonial, oc- 
 cupation, had its songs; when music was a solace to 
 all alike; when that terrible distinction between the 
 lettered and unlettered did not exist. 'For neither in 
 Greece nor in the Middle Ages did it exist; the same 
 poetry pleased all, the prince and the burgher, the 
 knight and peasant.' 'In certain Breton provinces,' 
 says Tiersot, 'following an old feudal law, established 
 in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, certain revenues 
 were paid in song. In one place the prior exacted the 
 tax of "nuptial song" from the newly married on the 
 Sunday after the wedding; in another, every new bride 
 was obliged to perform a song and dance, whereupon 
 the lord would decorate the bride with a flower bon- 
 net, while all the women married during the year 
 danced and sang a song — eloquent testimony indeed of 
 the love of music among our early forefathers. 
 
 C. S. 
 199 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 III 
 
 We have had occasion to mention the vagrant musi- 
 cians, that singular adjunct to Middle-Age society, which 
 appeared in every country of Central Europe, in Ger- 
 many as Fahrender, in France as fableor or contraire 
 and later as jongleur or menetrier, in England as min- 
 strel. Gustav Freytag has speculatively traced their 
 origin back to the Roman gladiators, actors, and per- 
 formers mentioned above, a despised race, who were, 
 like their supposed posterity, beyond the pale of the 
 law. When the Germanic hordes swept away the de- 
 generate opulence of Rome, this class may well be 
 supposed to have scattered among the barbarian con- 
 querors. As once in the arena, they now stood before 
 the huts of Frankish chieftains, performing their tricks 
 and piping strange tunes. To the populace of the Mid- 
 dle Ages they were welcome guests, for they provided 
 the one means of artistic entertainment outside the 
 church. 
 
 In Germany the fahrende Sanger or Spielmann, 
 whether a native who had travelled in many lands or 
 a singer of foreign birth, was sure to find his way into 
 the remotest huts of the countryside. He brought with 
 him new tunes and took with him those that he heard 
 at the fireside that had given him hospitality. In this 
 way the stock of tunes handed down from father to 
 son and from mother to daughter was in every genera- 
 tion enlarged by acquisitions from without. The min- 
 strel was the medium of musical exchange between 
 the town and the country, between the several prov- 
 inces and between different nations. He was the mid- 
 dleman and the teacher, through whom echoes of the 
 songs of Norse skalds, Welsh and Irish bards, and 
 French and Provengal singers reached the German 
 people and vice versa. He was especially popular in 
 
 200 
 
MINSTRELS AND JONGLEURS 
 
 England, where numerous instances are quoted of 
 minstrels appearing at royal weddings and other great 
 functions, not only individually but in large numbers, 
 and being so richly rewarded for their services that 
 the church complained because they were better paid 
 than priests. Individual German sovereigns also seem 
 to have appreciated their skill and distinguished them 
 by marks of favor. In 1355 Emperor Charles IV ap- 
 pointed one Johann der Fiedler 'rex omnium histri- 
 orum' for the archbishopric of Mayence, and thirty 
 years later another minstrel, the piper Brachte, bore 
 the of&cial title Kiinig der farenden Lute (King of the 
 wayfarers) . 
 
 In France, too, the vagrant appears as the original 
 type of popular singer. He ran from one end of the 
 land to the other. Received and even invited by the 
 great lords he went from castle to castle, his head 
 filled with songs, or his pockets with parchments — ^if, 
 indeed, he could read. Perchance he would stop in the 
 common of some village, play a few stray arpeggios on 
 his viol, and, having collected an enthusiastic audience, 
 sing a complainte, the adventures of a favorite hero, 
 or perhaps recount the story of a celebrated crime, 
 embellished with horrifying details. Again he might 
 sing a love romance, or even a scriptural legende — the 
 'Prodigal Son' or some other parable, the life of a 
 saint, or the Passion of our Lord. 
 
 With the growth of the cities and the development 
 of the middle class the wandering minstrel lost popu- 
 larity in Germany, even among the people. His itiner- 
 ant life bred a disregard of soeial customs and con- 
 ventions which caused no little concern among the 
 respectable burghers of larger communities, and both 
 the Sachsenspiegel and the Schwahenspiegel, chronicles 
 of the thirteenth century, record the fact that minstrels 
 were outside the social pale and even excluded from 
 membership in the church. Yet these same outcasts 
 
 201 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of the church, excluded from its sacraments, would 
 gather the faithful in the cathedral square and, excit- 
 ing the people's fancy with sacred legends and mir- 
 acles, would, as it were, become the self-appointed 
 allies of the clergy. But at last, in uncompromising op- 
 position to them, the resident musicians of the towns 
 associated themselves in the manner of guilds and 
 monopolized the privilege of furnishing music for 
 public functions, being employed and paid by the city 
 councils. The earliest musicians' guild of this kind was 
 the Nikolaibriiderschaft (Brotherhood of St. Nicho- 
 las), organized in Vienna in 1288. Its management 
 was entrusted to a high official, the Musikantenvogt, 
 later Oberspielgraf, who represented the highest tribu- 
 nal in matters of music. The policy of these musicians' 
 guilds was similar to that of musicians' unions of the 
 present day. In a district covered by the guilds only 
 persons enrolled as paying members were allowed to 
 play or sing for money. 
 
 It was different in France. Here the jongleur, by 
 virtue of special circumstances, became a privileged 
 character and enjoyed the continued patronage of the 
 aristocracy, for he was an all-important factor in the 
 musicianship of chivalry, which we shall presently 
 discuss. 
 
 We have left out of our consideration of folk music 
 so far that all-important element of modern song, the 
 mainspring of lyricism — ^romantic love. In an age 
 when man's entire spiritual life was dictated by re- 
 ligious dogma, his natural instincts, branded as pro- 
 fane and unworthy, were naturally excluded from the 
 objects of his poetic expression. 'But the church could 
 not completely triumph over Nature. The fundamental 
 human sentiments — above all, profane love — after hav- 
 ing for more than ten centuries been excluded from 
 the expression which musical science might have 
 vouchsafed to them, now seemed to take their revenge, 
 
 202 
 
Mediaeval French Sculpture showing Trouveres 
 and Jongleurs with Instruments 
 
THE LOVE SONG 
 
 to free themselves from long subjection, to let voices 
 hitherto condemned to silence be heard at last. By 
 the side of the altars where psahns were sung, where 
 the things of the world were condemned, the free and 
 subtle stories of exalted love arose, like irresistible pro- 
 tests of the human heart. The cult of the ideal wom- 
 an, the mother of the Saviour, the Virgin immaculate, 
 continued; but beside it was heard the praise of the 
 woman of France [of Germany, of Italy] ; the subject of 
 another sort of devotion, as exalted and often as pure. 
 The chivalrous qualities of the race, disciplined and 
 refined by Christian dogma, but rebelling against as- 
 ceticism, reappeared and reclaimed their rights with a 
 new vivacity.' * This new spirit pervaded all classes of 
 society. The nobility, especially, now affected a finer, 
 more spiritual manner of life. Christian metaphysics, 
 superior education, and the advanced social position of 
 women were the things which prepared the way for 
 chivalry, that new moral code propagated by formal 
 orders of knighthood. The Crusades and contact with 
 Eastern culture confirmed its establishment. 
 
 With this first renaissance of the modern spirit came 
 also the awakening of a new appreciation of the beau- 
 ties of Nature. Man began to notice the first flowers, 
 the song of birds, the signs of spring's awakening. 
 This gave rise to a species of popular song known 
 as the pastoral — pastourelle — ^which was afterward 
 adopted and cultivated by the Troubadours, who sub- 
 jected it to certain rules, respecting the sequence of 
 different lengths of verses, etc. Besides the pastourelle, 
 numerous other forms of love songs (we need only 
 mention the serenades peculiar to the south — the 
 Basque country and Corsica especially) are of truly 
 popular origin. 
 
 It may not be out of place here to quote the 
 charming love romance in narrative form entitled 
 
 * Jules Conibarieu: Bistoire de la musiqae. 
 
 203 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Aucassin et Nicolette, dating from the beginning of the 
 thirteenth century, which had an undoubted influence 
 upon the music of chivahy both in France and in Ger- 
 many. It comprises twenty-one vocal pieces inter- 
 spersed with twenty prose sections, which are to be 
 read, not sung, as the superscription Or se dient et con- 
 tent et flabloient indicates, in distinction from the Or 
 se cante of the verse sections. The verse also forms 
 part of the narrative, with the exception of Aucassin's 
 song to the evening star, which is purely lyric but of 
 the same musical treatment as the epic songs of the 
 piece : 
 
 S.Que la In - no :tralt a sol • 
 fatid lurslvt iharv versttsl 
 
 IS. Suer douce & 
 
 The second musical line here serves for thirteen suc- 
 cessive text lines with continuous rhyme — another ex- 
 ample of this most ancient method of cantilation. 
 
 We must now pass on to the development of the love 
 song, which seems to have been the special task of a 
 gifted and celebrated race of knighthood, the glorious 
 post-musicians called Troubadoiu's and Trouveres in 
 France, and Minnesinger in Germany. 
 
 IV 
 
 The Troubadours and Trouveres (so called from 
 trobar or trouver — to find) were, in sharp contrast to 
 the vagrant professional musicians, noble knights, who 
 practised the graceful arts as gifted amateurs, prima- 
 rily in the impassioned praise of woman and for the 
 sole prize of her favor, with such zeal and superior in- 
 
 204 
 
THE TROUBADOURS 
 
 telligence that they soon outstripped in skill their 
 meaner colleagues, who now became their servants. 
 France was, it will be recalled, at this time, linguistically 
 divided into two sections. The langue d'Oc was spoken 
 in the south and the langue d'Oil in the north. In 
 the south, in Provence and Languedoc, the so-called 
 Troubadour movement had its inception. 'That glo- 
 rious land, endowed with all the charms of sunny 
 skies, which surpassed all other European prov- 
 inces in culture, prosperity, and spiritual contentment, 
 was the cradle of this chivalry, with which are asso- 
 ciated supreme sensual enjoyment, a passion for splen- 
 dor, and the worship of women, thus uniting all the 
 conditions of poetic art.' * Chivalry spread rapidly be- 
 yond the limits of these provinces, however, and across 
 the Pyrenees, where lay the three Christian kingdoms 
 of Castile-Leon, Navarre, and Aragon. Counts, dukes, 
 and kings extended their patronage to this knightly 
 poet-band and vied with each in attaching to their 
 courts a brilliant assemblage of singers. The counts 
 of Provence especially, Raimon Berengar III and his 
 successors, the counts of Toulouse, Anjou, and Poitou, 
 the kings of Aragon, Castille, and Leon, the margraves 
 of Montferrat and Este, the French royal court where 
 Eleonore of Poitou was queen, and the court of Eng- 
 land under Henry II, the second husband of Queen 
 Eleonore, provided rallying centres. Even the sover- 
 eigns themselves were ambitious for the favor of the 
 Muses. The earliest Troubadour of prominence was 
 Guillaume, count of Poitiers (1087-1127). Contempo- 
 rary with him was Robert, duke of Normandy, the son 
 of William the Conqueror, who, after returning from 
 the Crusade (1106), was till his death a prisoner of his 
 brother Henry I of England in the Castle of Cardiff, 
 where he is said to have attained the rank of a Welsh 
 bard. 
 
 *Fr. Diez: Die Poesie der Troubadours, 
 
 205 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 This remarkable and sudden flowering of lyric 
 poetry among the knighthood of the eleventh century, 
 continuing for two centuries and more the record of 
 which stands brightly emblazoned upon the shield of 
 musical history, has never been satisfactorily explained. 
 Riemann thinks that the education of the young nobihty 
 in the monasteries certainly had a refining influence. 
 The familiarity with old Rreton and British literature, 
 the legend of King Arthur's Round Table, the old Celtic 
 narrative poems and romances, especially the legend 
 of Tristan and Yseult, which were known through old 
 French adaptations, likewise had an influence. 
 
 By their own testimony, however, the Provencal 
 poets found their immediate suggestions in folk song 
 itself, as interpreted by the jongleurs. The latter's 
 entire repertoire of classic and mediaeval chronicles 
 was adopted by the Troubadours, whose own experi- 
 ences in the Crusades later caused them to substitute 
 recent chivalric deeds for antique subjects. The forms 
 of the jongleurs' art we find again in the Troubadour 
 creations, but refined in style, governed by definite 
 laws of poetry, more exalted in sentiment, so that, with- 
 out sacrifice of spontaneity, they have gained distinc- 
 tion and variety and have become conscious works of 
 art. As we are concerned here only with their musical 
 significance, which, indeed, has been generally ignored 
 by literary historians and underestimated by musi- 
 cians, we shall have little to say about these forms; 
 for, great as is the variety of their content, we fail to 
 find parallel distinctions in their musical settings. 
 It should not be overlooked, however, that certain 
 poetic devices and ingenuities gave rise to more ad- 
 vanced musical forms, i. e., the repetition of a phrase 
 on two rhyming verses at the beginning of a song, fol- 
 lowed by a variant, which is the elementary form of 
 the Lied. 
 
 The so-called vers gives a starting point for Trouba- 
 
 206 
 
THE TROUBADOURS 
 
 dour lyrics. This was the name given to a strictly nor- 
 mal composition in a measure of eight syllables, with 
 probably an amplification of the more sporadic, uneven 
 verse forms of the jongleurs. The chanson is a more 
 sophisticated form, consisting of alternating verses 
 of different lengths. Girant de Borneil (1175-1220) is 
 known as its first exponent. Then we find again the 
 familiar narrative form in the guise of chansons de 
 geste — epics recounting deeds of valor — the sirventes, 
 employed in a lover's address to his mistress as well 
 as in satire (which is an early prototype of the famous 
 terza rima later adopted by Dante and Petrarch), and 
 the tenson, a controversial song in which the same sub- 
 ject is treated by rival poets, real and fictitious, in al- 
 ternating verses. The Breton narrative or lai, of melan- 
 choly character, as represented in the 'Tristan' legend, 
 was also adopted by the Troubadours; other lyrics are 
 variously designated as canson, canzona, soula (a 
 merry song), romance (more characteristic of the 
 Trouveres), alba (aubade), a morning song, serena 
 (serenade) , an evening song, and pastourelle, the favor- 
 ite form already mentioned, which is the richest in 
 popular elements — dance rhythms, refrains, etc. 
 
 The pastourelle is characterized by extreme simplic- 
 ity of theme. Its characters are shepherds and shep- 
 herdesses, and it usually begins in the narrative form, 
 the narrator fixing the time of his adventure — the early 
 morn — and the scene, invariably a field, where he 
 meets a shepherdess 'in the shade of a bush,' or 'at the 
 edge of a spring.' The amorous dialogue which fol- 
 lows has a happy conclusion if the lover be a shep- 
 herd, an unhappy one if he be a knight. The senti- 
 ments expressed in the Troubadour pastoral are, of 
 course, rather those of knight and lady in the disguise 
 of shepherds than those of real shepherds. Robin and 
 Marion, the usual hero and heroine of pastoral songs, 
 are the central personalities of a whole cycle, the origin 
 
 207 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of which is exceedingly ancient, far behind the day of 
 Adam de la Halle, who is perhaps the most famous 
 composer of pastorals. Most of the mediaeval pastorals 
 preserved to us belong to this cycle. The famous 
 Robin m'aime is still sung, we are told, by the peas- 
 ants of northern France. It runs as follows: 
 
 RotiBs Bfal-mer.Rs>tim m'a; Roiliis m' a_ de-mao-dS-e ei m'^ ' 
 
 The pastoral song survived the Middle Ages and was 
 a favorite down to the Revolution, long before which 
 it had, however, found its way into the aristocracy and 
 polite society of cities and so lost the little natural 
 flavor which still clung to it in the days of the Trou- 
 badours. Robin and Marion made way for Tircis and 
 Aminta, Phyllis and Lycidas, beribboned and be- 
 spangled counterfeits of the original article. To illus- 
 trate how hackneyed this type of song and the plays 
 later made out of them had become in the time of 
 Moliere, we may quote Monsieur Jourdain: 'Why all 
 these shepherds? I see nothing else.' To which the 
 dancing-master replies peremptorily: 'When charac- 
 ters speak in music it is necessary, for the sake of real- 
 ism, to make them shepherds. Song was ever aff'ected 
 by shepherds; it is hardly natural that princes and 
 princesses should vent their passions in musical dia- 
 logue !' 
 
 Among Troubadour dance forms there should also 
 be mentioned the carol or rondet de carol, retroensa, 
 estampida, and the espringerie (jumping dance). Par- 
 ticularly notable is the Estampida of Rambaut de Vac- 
 queiras (1180-1270), a Troubadour at the court of 
 Montf errat, the lover of the beautiful princess Beatrice. 
 The story connected with it aptly illustrates the influ- 
 ence of the jongleurs. When one day a band of these, 
 native of France, came to the court, they awakened 
 
 208 
 
THE TROUBADOURS 
 
 general merriment with a new Estampida played on 
 their viols. Only Rambaut could not be roused from 
 his melancholy, and Beatrice asked him therefore to 
 sing a song himself, and so regain a happier mood. 
 Whereupon he composed the charming dance song 
 Kalenda maya in the manner of the jongleurs' estam- 
 pida: 
 
 Estsunpida 
 by Rambaut de Vacqueiras 
 
 ^^^ ^_^ . 1. 
 
 Eal-len-da. ma- ya Niflielhs de b-yaNi cbanz d'au - zclh ai 
 Hon es quem pla • yaFrosdom-na gua-yaTro qifim ys - nelh mes- 
 
 nars de ga - ^ De vos-tre bel cors q^em re - tra. yaFIa-zer no- 
 BSt'gler a • ya 
 
 yelh qu' Amors Ufa . tra - ya G ja- y& Em-tra-ybVas vos dOD-na ve- 
 I ^ /togj^wo at Ftne 
 
 ya G 
 
 ■ ya De flu- ya L'ge • las aasgiem i& - stra - ya. 
 
 (S Blmitai 
 
 It should be noted here that in the transcriptions of 
 Troubadour songs — and most of the small manuscript 
 treasure preserved to us still wants unfolding — there 
 has until recently prevailed the error to interpret them 
 as measured music. Measured music came into use, 
 we have seen, with Franco of Cologne, about A. D. 
 1200, but, nevertheless, many writers did not adopt it 
 for centuries thereafter. The Troubadours persistently 
 followed the metre of the verse instead of fitting their 
 melodies into a set rhythmic scheme (and most natu- 
 rally so, when we consider that they were primarily 
 poets); hence the square notes in which they note 
 their melodies are really nothing but neumes on a 
 staff. This use has given rise to the error common to 
 most historians, who, in forcing the beautiful, spon- 
 taneous tunes into a straitjacket of modern measure- 
 ment, deprived them of their rhythmic and melodic 
 
 209 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 grace in a manner which did violence to the verses as 
 well. In considering their musical quality we must caU 
 attention to the fact that, while devoid of the rich 
 beauties of modern harmony, these songs, availing 
 themselves both of the antique modes and modern 
 tonalities, are able to convey nobility of sentiment, 
 passion, and varied shades of emotion. Breathing the 
 'tender grace of a day that is dead,' they are, in some 
 instances, still able to charm in our noisy age, and the 
 influence which they have had upon the course of 
 the art can hardly be over-appreciated. 
 
 It has been mentioned that the Jongleurs came 
 largely into the service of the Troubadours. It is they 
 who accompanied the knights in their travels from 
 castle to castle, providing the lighter kinds of amuse- 
 ment, and the instrumental accompaniment, such as 
 it was, on their viols or rottas — sometimes, indeed, 
 singing their master's songs, with the dissemination of 
 which they were frequently entrusted. That they often 
 undertook to 'improve' these compositions on their 
 own account we gather from the words of Peire d'Au- 
 vergne and others, entreating jongleurs not to meddle 
 with their verses and melodies. Sometimes, no doubt, 
 they were more gifted than the Troubadour and pro- 
 vided the melody for his verses as well. In some in- 
 stances, indeed, a Jongleur became a Troubadour or 
 Trouvere, and sometimes a Troubadour became a 
 Jongleur, as in the case of Gaucelm Faidit, who lost 
 money at dice and was forced to earn a livelihood by 
 his art. For that was the real distinction between the 
 two; one sang for glory, the other for gain. As long 
 as they did not make a trade of their art, lowly-born' 
 and bastards took equal rank with princes and nobles, 
 in the earlier periods at least. 
 
 While at first the Troubadour disdained to accom- 
 pany his own singing, he soon learned the art from 
 the Jongleur and in many cases became his own ac» 
 
 210 
 
THE TROUBADOURS 
 
 companist. His favorite instruments were the viol, the 
 rotta (a form of fiddle), and the organistrum.* The 
 quality of the melodies or chords he wrested from 
 them can hardly be conjectured, for we must not forget 
 that of polyphony, still in its incipient stages among 
 the learned musicians of the church, he had no knowl- 
 edge — not, at least, until about the time of Adam de la 
 Halle (1240-1287), who forms the bridge, as it were, 
 from the Trouveres to the scientific musicians of the 
 Netherland school. 
 
 We must now briefly enumerate a few of the illus- 
 trious Provencal Troubadours. There were about four 
 hundred poets of fame. The list is headed by Guil- 
 laiune, count of Poitiers. Soon after him comes the 
 fiery and poetic Bernard de Ventadour (1140-1195), 
 patronized by Queen Eleanor; and Macabrun, the 
 foundling, who wrote — ^between 1150 and 1195 — ^in a 
 most involved style and generally a satirical vein. Then 
 comes Jaufre Rudel, prince of Blaya (1140-1170), fam- 
 ous for his languishing love-songs; Peire d'Auvergne 
 (1152-1215) the 'master of the Troubadours,' renowned 
 for artistic finish; Guillem de Cabestanh (1181-1196), 
 whose poetic adulation of his lady cost him his life 
 at the hand of her jealous husband, while the object 
 of his affection was forced to eat his heart; Peire Vidal 
 (1175-1215), perhaps the most celebrated of all the 
 Troubadours; Bertrand de Born (1180-1195), famous 
 for his war songs; Folquet de Marseilles (1180-1231), 
 Bishop of Toulouse; Rambaut de Vaqueiras (1180- 
 1207), the cynical and caustic 'Monk of Montaudon' 
 (1180-1200); Arnault Daniel (1180-1200), a nobleman 
 of Perigord, celebrated by Petrarch and Dante; Gau- 
 cehn Faidit (1190-1240); Savarie de Mauleon (1200- 
 1230), who fought with Raymond of Toulouse against 
 Sunon de Montfort; Peire Cardinal (1210-1230); and 
 Guirant Riquier (1250-1294), the last true Troubadour. 
 
 * The Middle-Age hurdy-gurdy. 
 
 211 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Among the women — of whom seventeen achieved great 
 reputation — the foremost was Beatrice, countess of Die 
 and wife of Guillaume de Poitiers, 
 
 The crushing out of the Troubadours is ascribed to 
 the Albigensian crusade, which lasted from 1207 to 
 1244. The Albigenses' home was in the very heart of 
 the Troubadour country and the legate of Pope Inno- 
 cent III, sent as inquisitor, was murdered there during 
 his attempt to extirpate the heresy. The crusade of 
 revenge which followed was particularly directed 
 against Count Raymond of Toulouse, staunch patron 
 of the Troubadours, who flocked to his standard and 
 raised their voices in songs of war and religious con- 
 troversy. Their odes, pasquinades, and sirventes were 
 sung by their Jongleurs in market places and at fairs, 
 while they themselves girt on their swords and fought. 
 During a fierce war of twenty years waves of soldiers 
 and clergy swept through the lonely vineyards and 
 gardens, leaving only blackened ruin in their wake. 
 The bright days of the Troubadour were ended; the 
 society that supported him was crushed, and the blow 
 that fell in Provence reverberated through all the land. 
 The race was not extinct, however; its representatives 
 found a welcome at the courts of Castile, of Aragon, 
 and of Sicily, where Frederick II was king. From this 
 last centre they unquestionably exerted an important 
 influence upon the Italian Renaissance, to which we 
 shall recur in a later chapter. In this connection we 
 may mention the interesting fact that the poet Dante 
 early in the fourteenth century visited the Troubadours 
 in their home and drew inspiration from their art. 
 
 The Trouveres' ascendancy dates from about 1137, 
 when Eleonore of Aquitaine became queen of France. 
 At her court the knights who spoke the langue d'Oil 
 came in contact with those of the south, and from them 
 received their poetic impulse. Besides this linguistic 
 difference, the only other distinction is the somewhat 
 
 212 
 
THE TROUVERES 
 
 more earnest character of Trouvere songs. Among 
 their illustrious representatives we must name, first. 
 King Richard I (1169-1199) of England (Cceur-de- 
 Lion) and his menestrel Blondel de Nesle. Then there 
 are Marie de France, at the court of Henry II of Eng- 
 land; Thibaut IV, count of Champagne, afterward king 
 of Navarre (1208-1253); Raoul de Coucy (end of the 
 twelfth centiuy) ; Perrin d'Angecourt; Audefroi le Bas- 
 tard; Guyot de Dijon; Jehan de Bretal; and Adam de la 
 Halle (or de la Hale) * surnamed le bossu d' Arras (the 
 hunchback of Arras), whose works are preserved to 
 us and are published by Coussemaker in modem nota- 
 tion.f That he was a genuinely inspired poet and 
 composer is eloquently attested by his chansons, ron- 
 deaux, and motets, in which he also displays a com- 
 plete mastery of the musical science of his day. The 
 most important of his works is the pastoral comedy, 
 Le geu de Robin et de Marion, which he arranged at 
 the command of the king of Naples, about the year 
 1285. Very little of the music was his own, most of it 
 was taken from the stock of popular song. As a wan- 
 derer over Europe, a man of free, wild life who yet 
 had undergone strict musical training in the monas- 
 teries of northern France, he is interesting as showing 
 the contrast of theoretical and of actual music and 
 the tirst efforts to combine the one with the other. 
 
 It is diflBcult, if not impossible, to say just how much 
 the Troubadours and the Trouveres influenced the de- 
 
 * B. at Arras, ca. 1230 ; d. in Naples in 1287. His father was a well-to-do 
 burgher, who destined him for holy orders and sent him to the Abbey of 
 Vauxcelles. But his falling in love with a certain demoiselle Marie changed 
 the course of his career. However, he separated from her in 1263, and 
 retired again as a clerical to Douai. In 1282 he entered the service of Duke 
 Robert II of Artois and accompanied him in his expedition to Sicily, where 
 he wrote some of his most important works for the entertainment of the 
 French court, te geu de Robin et Marion was preceded by other pieces, in- 
 cluding Le geu de la feuillie (1262), but they were of a frivolous and even 
 licentious character. 
 
 t Ed. de Coussemaker: (Euvres computes du Trouvires Adam de laH&le. 
 
 213 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 velopment of music. The Troubadours found a foot- 
 ing in Sicily and southern Italy and influenced the 
 growth of the so-called Ars Nova, which will be 
 treated in the next chapter. Melodies of the Trouveres 
 were adopted by the Netherland composers as the 
 foundations of their masses. These are definite points 
 at which secular and religious music certainly touched. 
 If, beyond this, the relations between them are vague 
 and hard to trace, the movements of which the Trouba- 
 dours and the Trouveres are manifestations are none 
 the less of vital significance in the history of music. 
 Through them the undercurrent of real free music, 
 which we may be sure never ceased to flow even when 
 the crushing weight of scholasticism was heaviest, 
 welled to the surface. They represent spontaneous 
 joy and human delight in ages fettered with theology 
 and logic. They represent the real source of music. 
 Those who would believe that the great Italian Renais- 
 sance was not primarily a retiu-n to classicism but an 
 all-powerful and general awakening of man to the 
 beauty and delight of earth will find in the music of 
 the Troubadours and Trouveres this natural delight 
 expressed. If, as it happened, music was the last to 
 rise up in the freedom of the Renaissance, it was 
 because music got no help in her need of expression 
 from a study of the music of the ancients; music had 
 to build slowly her own means, unaided by precedent 
 and past accomplishment, fed and encouraged only 
 by the natural love of man's heart to sing, a love which 
 is here attested in the dark ages and to which she 
 finally turned. 
 
 VI 
 
 We must again give our attention to Germany, where 
 a musical development parallel to that of the Pro- 
 vencal and French chivalry had been going forward 
 
 214 
 
THE MINNESINGER 
 
 since the twelfth century. Art music as such had so 
 far been confined in Germany to the church; the com- 
 posers and scholars devoted to its practice were to be 
 found largely in the monasteries. But about the be- 
 ginning of the twelfth century an attempt was made 
 by poet-singers of noble birth to found a school of 
 secular song expressing their ideals of life and appeal- 
 ing to people of their rank. This conscious effort of 
 aristocratic singers shared with the unconscious 
 achievement of folk song a certain range of topics, not- 
 ably historical and sacred, and a certain naivete of 
 attitude. In other respects it differed from it radically, 
 both in content and in manner, for it was founded 
 upon the ideal of chivalry and was full of the spirit of 
 gallantry. But, while the southern poet-singers made 
 profane love their one great theme, German chivakic 
 poetry in a curious way blended the mediaeval adora- 
 tion of the Virgin Mary with the worship of women in 
 general. From this devotion to Fru Minne (Dame 
 Love) it was called Minnegesang and its singers Minne- 
 singer. The beauties of Nature, ever present in Ger- 
 man poetry, also formed an important subject in Min- 
 negesang. 
 
 Though simple enough in itself, this first art song 
 of the Germans never equalled the ingenuousness of 
 the Volkslied, for a burden of knowledge hampered the 
 flight of the poets' imaginations and chilled the ardor 
 of their sentiments, and, in the attempt to escape from 
 base reaUties, they frequently lost themselves in elu- 
 sive abstractions. The allegorical element, almost ab- 
 sent in the Volkslied, was largely represented in Min- 
 negesang, which is full of poetic allusions to the heav- 
 enly virtues that lead to salvation, and to the deadly 
 sins that pave the road to perdition. Minnegesang was 
 more personal and direct than the Volkslied. which 
 tends to sociahze or generalize an individual experi- 
 ence until it applies and appeals to all. A product of 
 
 215 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the castles, Minnegesang was frequently a matter of 
 ambition, encouraged by the hope of finding favor with 
 a princely patron or winning the love of a high-bom 
 lady. The Volkslied, a product of the people, made 
 no such appeal and was its own reward. The tourna- 
 ments of song were therefore limited to the Minne- 
 singer and represented a counterpart of those other 
 contests which in the period of chivalry brought out 
 physical prowess and skill. 
 
 There is an element of partisan controversy in the 
 writings of even recent historians concerning the re- 
 spective merits of the Troubadours and Minnesinger, 
 some maintaining the superiority and originality of the 
 latter, while others, like Combarieu, call them simply 
 'imitators' of the Troubadours. The fact that they ap- 
 peared somewhat later is not sufficient evidence for 
 such a statement, however, and may be explained by 
 the fact that in Germany chivalry flourished later. The 
 German knights, it will be remembered, did not parti- 
 cipate in the first Crusade. Doubtless the same influ- 
 ences making for exalted expression were at work in 
 both countries and the early epics of which we have 
 spoken were in a sense the conunon property of both. 
 Moreover, the epic poems of the Celtic people (the 
 Breton lais, etc.) preceded the Provencal lyrics and 
 probably reached Germany by direct road. 
 
 A fundamental ditference between the two schools, 
 which strongly argues a separate origin, is the fact that 
 in form Minnegesang approached the heavier epic style 
 of the Northern bards, rather than the lighter lyric vein 
 of the Southern singers. Inasmuch as German poetry 
 contained a great variety of verse-forms with a vary- 
 ing.number of syllables, Minnegesang developed a great 
 variety of rhythms. Unlike Romance lyricism, German 
 composition never forsook the principle of accentua- 
 tion for the sake of mere syllabic proportion (enumer- 
 ation). In other words, the Germans considered only 
 
 216 
 
THE MINNESINGER 
 
 the accented syllables, subordinating the unaccented so 
 that they might be either eliminated or increased in 
 number without disturbing the rhythmic contour; 
 which means a very different relation between text and 
 melody. Melody corresponding with verbal accent 
 makes for correct emphasis and a natural and logical 
 declamation. 
 
 The stereotyped contour of the Troubadour songs 
 which their composers sought to overcome by excessive 
 melodic ornament is not found to the same extent in 
 Minnegesang, where the change of hypermetres and 
 catalectics provides in itself a considerable variety of 
 rhythm even where the same melody is retained for a 
 succession of stanzas. This sort of adaptation must 
 have required considerable skill in execution; it has, 
 moreover, given no end of trouble to modern tran- 
 scribers in the determination of phrase limits. In the 
 example here given we follow the interpretation of 
 Riemann. It is an excerpt from the Jena manuscript, 
 being the only example dating from the tweKth cen- 
 tury. Its author is 'old Spervogel,' and its serious con- 
 templative character will illustrate the difference be- 
 tween the works of Troubadours and Minnesinger. We 
 give only the first line of the melody in four of the thir- 
 teen forms which it assumes over the various texts of 
 succeeding verses. 
 
 etc 
 
 et«. 
 
 Z. b^-er si -nen :g8t-en TTlmd he -J hal - ten ? 
 
 \ril. 
 
 8 Mich Dympt S»Tiil-iJer daz — eyn 
 KB." 
 
 rty-ne by-der-be • iiiao__ 
 
 4. Eyn e-de-le kuo - ne sti-get of — by 
 
 217 
 
 nem man . 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 A form especially cultivated by the Minnesinger was 
 the aubade (Tagelied) which originated with the Pro- 
 vencal Troubadours, In its German form it usually 
 represents a lover, lingering near his beloved, whom the 
 watchman's trumpet call announcing the dawn's ap- 
 proach speeds on his homeward way. In the earliest 
 known Tagelied, by Diet von Eist (1180), the song of a 
 bird is heard instead of the watchman's call, but in 
 later examples the horn-call assumes greater promi- 
 nence and is even represented by a melody without text 
 at the beginning or in the middle of a verse. In one by 
 Wizlaw such a sequence of apparently superfluous 
 notes at the end of the first verse puzzled transcribers 
 until recently, when its significance was discovered. In 
 subsequent verses of this example words are supplied 
 for the notes of the call. 
 
 wT~ 
 
 ■f- 
 
 4- 
 
 f-F^ 
 
 (instrrimerttal) ■ 
 
 ^^ 
 
 -i— P — f — 1 fj. ) m P \ 
 
 List 
 
 du 
 
 Is 
 
 -1 — kJ — 
 
 der . mln - 
 
 -l-J — ! '■ i 1 
 
 ne dro^ 
 
 (inaintmentaO- 
 
 +4— 
 
 
 f r r i( z=u 
 
 '):^f ^ ^^\prr ^ \j »pr\r \ \\>\n y v u \ 
 
 Be ien iech-tS 
 
 ' l-J ' 1 ' III' 
 
 moii^lien fro. 
 
 ^-^ (itixtrutntlntaO.^^ 
 
 
 Co 
 
 voghe-1'ji slitghen deo 
 
 '>'^ nrrrnr rm-ir i ' ii r"\rnn\' i- ii 
 
 tac, 
 
 her 1st 
 
 tio. 
 
 The 'instrumental' portions may perhaps have been 
 hummed in imitation of the horn, but the principle is 
 the same. Still later we find examples, such as the 
 Nachthorn and Taghorn of the Monk of Salzburg, 
 which are marked Auch gut zu blasen ('Also good for 
 blowing'). 
 
 One of the early names of Minnesingers is that of 
 Tannhauser, or Tannhauser, who was born between 
 1210 and 1220. To him is credited a Busslied (song of 
 penitence), but it was probably in existence long be- 
 
 218 
 
The Tournament of Song in the Wartburg 
 
THE MINNESINGER 
 
 fore, customary among penitents, and only later as- 
 cribed to him. The participation of Tannhauser in the 
 song tournament of the Wartburg as represented in the 
 Wagner opera, is obviously a dramatic license of the 
 composer, as the event took place before his birth, in 
 1208. One of the most striking figures is Nithart von 
 Riuwenthal, who endeavored to infuse new life into the 
 courtly formalism of Minnegesang by drawing upon 
 the folk song and folk dance.* He called the new genre 
 which he created, and which was a mild parody upon 
 the peasant tunes then popular in rural Austria and 
 Bavaria, dorperliche singen (village singing), in con- 
 trast to the hofische singen (courtly singing) of this 
 class. His dance songs differ from other Minnesinger's 
 lyrics in their syllabic structure, as of necessity their 
 pronounced rhythm did not admit superfluous syl- 
 lables. The melodic correspondence between rhyming 
 verses already noted in Troubadour chansons is a 
 prominent feature with Nithart, but more remarkable 
 than this is the fine imitation of melodic elements cor- 
 responding to short rhyming lines within simple verses 
 (Stollen or Abgesang). 
 
 Wis wil-kom-men 
 vlli.deT ist so 
 
 mei . nen schinl 
 lan^ Meg'leg^ 
 
 Wer mocht uns er - 
 Uf dcm veld uod 
 
 gez-zen din? 
 in den wegb: 
 
 f- f- r r , 
 
 1 1 
 
 Ha "1 
 
 '''' 1 r r If 1- 1 r i|. |. |.rr ir r ■» » n 
 
 Wan dn Icanstver- swen-den-pin Daf sagtvns di - sin diet. Der 
 
 WU- li-klicli gair er donse^^Oa et von Iiin-nen______ scbiet 
 
 Bo «il dn 
 
 bei-de a-ber em Und vll klel-nin vo-ge*llndiB 
 
 J2» 
 
 Boe-ze stim-tie lem Paz sie bald indemWald Ir sae^zensaokee-nmi. 
 
 * The terms Tanzwise and Tanzliet are attached to not a few songs of 
 Minnesingers, notably to those of Ulrich von Llchtensteifl and Relnwar der 
 Fiedler. 
 
 219 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Wizlaw von Riigen, another Minnesinger who tried 
 to leave the beaten path, showed a marked tendency 
 toward a more direct and faithful reflection of the emo- 
 tional contents of his song. His senende claghe (long- 
 ing complaint), in which he emulates what he refers 
 to as the senende wise (melody) of the untutored man, 
 is an evidence of the attempt of Minnesinger at 'char- 
 acterization,' and we frequently meet with such specific 
 names of Tone or Weisen, which indicate the intention 
 to convey an individual sentiment in melody. The ap- 
 parent sameness in many of the tunes seems less in- 
 sistent when we consider the question of tempo which 
 must have differentiated their performance, but which 
 was never indicated in the manuscripts. 
 
 Hermann der Damen and Heinrich von Meissen, sur- 
 named Frauenlob for his songs in praise of women, 
 were famous for their Leiche, allegorical sacred songs 
 on the order of the 'sequences,' with melodies strictly 
 adapted to a text, consisting of irregular stanzas with 
 little repetition. Of the songs of the two greatest Min- 
 nesinger, Wolfram von Eschenbach and Walther von 
 der Vogelweide, only the poems exist: the melodies 
 passing for theirs are of doubtful origin. 
 
 The greatest patrons of Minnegesang among the sov- 
 ereigns of Germany were the Emperor Frederick I 
 (Barbarossa) , who died in 1190; Conradin, the last of 
 the Hohenstauflfen, who died 1268; and Wenceslaus of 
 Bohemia, a contemporary of Conradin. Minnegesang 
 was not to the same extent as Troubadour poetry a 
 courtly art, yet the castles of these sovereigns naturally 
 became centres of development, as did also the courts 
 of the Austrian dukes, when Heinrich von Melk, der 
 Kuremberger, Dietmar von Eist and Nithart (Neid- 
 hart) held forth; the courts of the margraves of Ba- 
 varia and Swabia, where we find the margrave of Rie- 
 tenburg, Meinloh von Seveningen, Spervogel, and Rein- 
 mer von Zweter; and finally the castle of the landgrave 
 
 220 
 
THE MINNESINGER 
 
 of Thuringia, which boasted of such bright ornaments 
 as Tannhauser, Heinrich von Veldecke, Walter von 
 der Vogelweide, and Wolfram von Eschenbach, of 
 whom the last two have attained the rank of national 
 poets. The formal, stately character of Minnesong 
 prevented its becoming as popular as the Troubadour 
 song in France. Another reason for this is the fact 
 that the more pronounced caste feeling of the Germans 
 forbade them to enlist the assistance of musicians of 
 inferior station. Whatever accompaniment there may 
 have been was provided by the poet-singers themselves. 
 
 VII 
 
 With the decline of feudalism and chivalry and the 
 development of the industries the middle class ac- 
 quired a social prominence which roused dormant am- 
 bitions and developed latent abilities. The craftsmen 
 had formed societies with strictly graded membership, 
 a most elaborate set of statutes and rigid ceremonial 
 of initiation. They were as much a social as an intel- 
 lectual manifestation being developed to mutual im- 
 provement and recreation, and music entered largely 
 into their program. Association with Minnesingers 
 who were not of noble rank and who, instead of bear- 
 ing the title Ritter (knight), were called Meister (mas- 
 ters), gradually awakened the desire of the good 
 burghers to emulate the example of the aristocracy 
 and cultivate song in the manner of Minnegesang. The 
 story that Emperor Otto I was founder of Meistergesang 
 (master song), and gave to twelve masters, among them 
 Heinrich Frauenlob, Barthel Regenbogen, and Kling- 
 sohr, something like a charter, has long been proved a 
 myth, since the emperor and these personages were not 
 even contemporaries. But the fact that Frauenlob, who 
 was one of the last Minnesingers, is claimed as one of 
 
 221 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the founders of Meistergesang, shows how closely the 
 latter followed upon the former. There is little doubt, 
 however, that the master-song was first cultivated in a 
 Meistersingschule (school of master song) in Mayence, 
 whence it spread to other cities, foremost among them 
 Nuremburg, Augsburg, Regensburg, Ulm, and Munich. 
 
 The Meistersingschulen recruited their members 
 from the singing-schools of the artisan guilds. Can- 
 didates were subjected to a rigorous examination and 
 had to account not only for their previous life, their 
 family connections, moral standing, and religious con- 
 victions, but had to pledge themselves to hold the ideal 
 of their art, to live a pure and worthy life, and to be 
 loyal and helpful to the fellow-members of the school. 
 There were 'school-friends,' 'scholars,' 'poets,' and 
 'singers.' Above them in rank were four Merker— 
 markers or judges; one of whom had to compare the 
 text of the song with the scriptural passage upon 
 which it was founded, while the second judged the 
 syllabic accent, the third the rhyme, and the fourth the 
 tune. The highest grade was that of Meister, a title 
 conferred upon him who was capable of fixing the 
 standard of both text and music. Prize contests were a 
 feature of the public performances and carried on the 
 tradition of the song tournament of chivalry. The 
 meetings were held in church. The prize consisted of 
 a string of ornamental coins, a bunch of artificial flow- 
 ers, or the permission at the end of the meeting to 
 stand at the church door and receive from the parting 
 audience a fee in current coin. The spirit of mediaeval 
 artisan life and of scholastic formalism was paramount 
 in the organization and all its activities. It is admi- 
 rably reflected in Richard Wagner's Meistersinger von 
 Nurnberg where, embodied in the figure of Beckmes- 
 ser, the Merker becomes the type of the pedant who 
 rates the letter higher than the spirit. 
 
 As religion was foremost in men's minds at that 
 
 222 
 
THE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 period, Meistergesang dealt at first mainly with relig- 
 ious topics and turned out prosy biblical paraphrases 
 with numerous historical and allegorical allusions. 
 The versification followed closely the models of the 
 Minnegesang, the structure of the masters' strophes be- 
 ing almost identical with that of their aristocratic com- 
 patriots. Even the terms Weise and Ton used by the 
 later Minnesingers to denote metre and melody, were 
 adopted by the master singers. The song itself was in 
 the form of a so-called Bar; its parts were Gesdtze; 
 each Gesatz consisted of two Stollen (strophe and anti- 
 strophe) sung to the same melody; then followed a 
 Stollen in the tune of the last Gesatz. The rules gov- 
 erning the composition of these songs were called Tah- 
 ulatur. The verse-form or Ton was given special 
 names, such as the lange Ton or graue Ton, or sug- 
 gesting the contents, were called Beerweis, Brunnen- 
 weis, Blutton, Lindenschmidtton, or named after the 
 authors, as Regenbogenton, Schilherton, etc. Frauen- 
 lob was held in such esteem by the greatest of the 
 mastersingers, that Hans Sachs himself wrote some 
 twenty-five songs or more in the Frauenlobton. Al- 
 though the structure of these songs was hidebound in 
 formal restrictions, the spirit reflected a sturdy sincer- 
 ity which was in keeping with the racial temperament 
 of the singers and not without charm. 
 
 Few manuscripts of the Meistersingers contain the 
 music of the songs, and their notation is not always 
 reliable. They employed neumes, like the Minnesing- 
 ers before them, but they limited themselves almost 
 exclusively to semibreves, reserving the minims only 
 for the ornamental figures. These figures, called Blu- 
 men * (flowers, florituri) when inserted as an interlude 
 or at the final cadence made a pleasing effect, in con- 
 
 * The Blume was sometimes applied to the first syllable of a song 
 when it was probably intended to prepare the mood, but produced a rather 
 ludicrous effect. Even Hans Sachs begins his song Drey fmmmer Kdnig 
 Jada with a Blume of ten notes, all on the word drey. 
 
 •23^ 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 trast to the even movement of the melody which, with- 
 out any perceptible rhythmic division, was likely to be 
 monotonous. Recent musical authorities, among them 
 Riemann, incline to the opinion that the mastersingers' 
 melodies were far better than the reputation they en- 
 joy. While some writers claim that they accompanied 
 their songs on the harp, the violin, lute, or zither, 
 others make no mention whatever of instrumental ac- 
 companiment, and Genee, in his book on Hans Sachs 
 and his time, distinctly states that they were sung with- 
 out accompaniment.* 
 
 Among the most famous Meistersingers were Hein- 
 rich Frauenlob (mentioned above), Hans Foltz, Hans 
 Rosenplut, Konrad Nachtigall, Konrad Murner, Michel 
 Behaim, Jorg Schilher, Bartel Regenbogen, Heinrich 
 von Ueglin, and Muskatbliit. But far above his col- 
 leagues towers Hans Sachs, the shoemaker poet of 
 Nuremberg. His achievements as poet, dramatist, and 
 musician are uneven in quality; his farces assure him 
 of a more prominent place in German literature than 
 the rank accorded to him in musical history for his 
 setting of the psalms. But taken as a whole his per- 
 sonality typifies what was best in the art of his class at 
 that period — an art practised under conditions which 
 did not favor the free and bold flight of creative genius. 
 It was Hans Sach who first of all the mastersingers 
 openly espoused the cause of the new church by greet- 
 ing the appearance of Luther in his famous song, Die 
 Wittenbergisch Nachtigall. In his naive, sincere devo- 
 tion to the new creed he undertook also to 'revise' some 
 of the older master songs to make them conform to the 
 new spirit, and his contributions to Protestant church 
 music were highly esteemed by his contemporaries. 
 
 Individual impulse, both emotional and musical, be- 
 ing ciu-bed by rigid rules, Meistergesang was a less 
 direct expression of personahty than Minnegesang, 
 
 * R. Gen£e: Hans Sachs und seine Zeit. 
 
 224 
 
THE MEISTERSINGER 
 
 and a less frank reflection of sentiment than the Volks- 
 lied. Lacking spontaneity and wider human appeal, 
 it fostered a spirit of severe formalism which coul^ not 
 have much influence upon the development of music in 
 general. On the other hand, this formaUstic severity 
 imparted a technical and spiritual discipline which was 
 not to be undervalued, and the stress laid upon a seri- 
 ous and dignified attitude toward the art of music may 
 have done no little toward counterbalancing the friv- 
 olous tendencies which sprang up here and there dur- 
 ing the religious, social, and political unrest of the 
 fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Nor was the rela- 
 tion between Meistergesang and the Reformation with- 
 out influence upon the development of Protestant 
 church music. For in the slow and measured move- 
 ment of the songs, dealing with sacred themes and sung 
 unisono by the members of the Singschule at the open- 
 ing of their meetings, one can recognize an essential 
 feature of the Protestant Chorale. 
 
 Thus we may conclude with the statement that the 
 real value to posterity of the art movements we have 
 discussed lies in their influence upon the two great 
 social movements that signalize the dawn of the mod- 
 ern era, namely, the Renaissance in Italy and the 
 Reformation in Germany, both of which are again 
 reflected in the music of a later day. The new spirit 
 is echoed in the sublime words of Hans Sachs : 
 
 'Awake I Draws nigh the break of day, 
 I hear upon the hawthorn spray 
 
 A bonny little nightingale. 
 
 Her song resounds through hill and dale. 
 The night descends the Western sky. 
 And from the East the dawn draws nigh. 
 
 "With red ardor the flush of day 
 
 Breaks through the cloud banks, dull and gray.' * 
 
 A. V. E. 
 
 * From the English translation of Die Meistersinger von NArnberg, by 
 Frederick Corder. 
 
 225 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 THE RISE OF THE NETHERLAND SCHOOLS 
 
 The Netherland style; the Ars Nova; Machault and the Paris school; 
 the papal ban on figured music — ^The Gallo-Belgian school; early English 
 polyphony; John Dunstable; Dufay and Binchois; other Gallo-Belgians — 
 Okeghem and his school — Josquln des Pris ; merits of the Netherland schools. 
 
 We have already discussed the origins of polyphony 
 and the condition of secular popular music in the dim 
 periods of the Middle Ages. We shall confine our- 
 selves in this chapter for the most part to the develop- 
 ment of polyphony, the art of music within the church, 
 not because it was only within the church that polyph- 
 ony was perfected, but because the art can be most 
 easily and consistently traced in church music. None 
 of the great composers whose importance we shall dis- 
 cuss restricted himself only to religious music, but all 
 gave the greater part of their energy thereto, and most 
 of the available knowledge of music from 1300 to 1600 
 is related to the church. It must not be forgotten, on 
 the other hand, that secular music exerted a vigorous 
 influence upon ecclesiastical music, an influence con- 
 stantly combatted by the church authorities, yet con- 
 stantly triumphant. The two styles acted and reacted 
 upon each other in a manner which may be observed 
 at various periods of musical history. 
 
 The study of the development of music from 1300 to 
 1600 is largely the study of the art or science of polyph- 
 ony. Polyphony, or counterpoint, is primarily the 
 
 226 
 
THE 'ARS NOVA' 
 
 art of combining two or more voice parts so that they 
 shall maintain their independent character and indi- 
 vidual interest, and still harmonize with each other. 
 Early musical notes were written as dots, or points, one 
 voice under or against another, whereby the term 
 contra punctum, meaning simply note against note, 
 originated. As has been previously explained, the 
 first or more important melody, called subject, theme, 
 or cantus firmus, was generally placed in the tenor, 
 so called from tenere {to hold), on account of its hold- 
 ing the melody: and the addition of one or more mel- 
 odies to the cantus firmus, or theme, under strict rules 
 and regulations, is the art of counterpoint." 
 
 One of the most important devices for enhancing 
 interest in the principal melody is known as 'imitation'; 
 that is, the repetition of a theme or phrase, or parts 
 thereof, either at a different pitch from the original, 
 or in a different voice part, with or without rhythmic 
 or other modifications, which, however, must not be so 
 great as to destroy the resemblance. Combining, as it 
 does, variety with unity of impression, and offering the 
 composer opportunity for the display of great inge- 
 nuity, the art of imitation grew rapidly in importance, 
 and became one of the chief and most characteristic 
 beauties of polyphonic writing.f To trace the growth 
 
 * strict or plain counterpoint is divided into several species; (1) note 
 against note, there being one note in the accompanying melody or melodies 
 to one note of the cantus firmus; (2) two notes against one; (3) three, 
 four, or more notes against one; (4) syncopated; (5) florid or figured, in 
 which the added parts are free. Counterpoint is single, or simple, when 
 the added part is uniformly above or below the cantus; double when the 
 added part is so constructed as to be usable either above or below the 
 cantus by a uniform transposition of an octave, a tenth, or some other 
 interval; and triple, or quadruple, when three or four melodies are so fitted 
 as to be mutually interchangeable with one another by transposition. 
 
 t Imitation is strict when the succession of intervals is identical in 
 both antecedent and consequent; free when some modification of the one 
 appears in the other. Imitation is called augmented when the rhythmic 
 value of the several tones is systematically increased, as, for example, when 
 quarter-notes are represented by half -notes; diminished when the rhythmic 
 value of the several notes Is lessened; inverted (or imitation in contrary 
 motion) when every upward interval in the antecedent is represented in 
 
 227 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of that style of writing, which has been called the 
 Netherland style, is our present purpose. 
 
 In Chapter VI we traced the beginnings of polyphony 
 in the stiff organum, and the growth of the so-called 
 mensural system by which all music was reduced to 
 triple rhythm and bound by mathematical laws, indif- 
 ferent to beauty, relentlessly rigid and monotonous. 
 During this period the musical centre of Europe was 
 Paris, where the organists of Notre Dame were the 
 most influential composers. Here the reaction against 
 the system found voice in theoretical discussion, though 
 this again was probably only the reflection of what had 
 been going on in actual practice, both in France and 
 elsewhere. Indeed, it is claimed by some writers 
 (notably Riemann) that certain composers of Florence, 
 under the direct influence of Troubadour song, were 
 the first to throw off the fetters of musical dogma; 
 England, too, has a serious claim for priority in the 
 new movement,* which was influenced everywhere by 
 the spontaneous florescence of secular song. But the 
 name ars nova, by which the reform was designated by 
 its protagonists in contradistinction to the ars antiqua 
 of their Franconian predecessors, has led historians to 
 connect it with the probable author of the treatise en- 
 titled 'The Ars Nova.' Philippe de Vitry, bishop of 
 Meaux (1290-1361), is said to be the author of this 
 treatise, as well as of several others dealing with 
 measured music, 'proportions' and the relative value 
 of the symbols of notation. In it he advocates counter- 
 point for several voices, rhythmic variety of a free use 
 of chromatic alterations. None of his own composi- 
 tions has been preserved to us, however. Another 
 
 the answer by an equivalent downward interval, or vice versa; retrograde 
 (or reversed Imitation) when the Intervals of the antecedent are taken in 
 the reserve order in the consequent. A canon is a composition in which 
 imitation is carried out at some length. Imitation is also the basis of 
 the fugue. 
 
 * It is in Walter Odington's treatise that the first mention of duple 
 metre is made. 
 
 228 
 
THE 'ARS NOVA' 
 
 writer, known by the name of Jean de Muris, left sev- 
 eral works of similarly radical character. He is not 
 to be confused, however, with a theorist of the same 
 name designated as 'the Norman,' who taught at the 
 Sorbonne from 1321 on, and whose teaching was so 
 conservative as really to constitute a reaction against 
 the new method — the ars nova. This effort toward 
 freedom was characterized, first by the reintroduction 
 of duple time into church music, in which triple time, 
 on account of its symbolistic connection with the Trin- 
 ity, had long held the field; secondly, by the emancipa- 
 tion of individual voices by means of a greater variety 
 of rhythm; thirdly, by the prohibition of parallel oc- 
 taves and fifths;* and lastly, by the differentiation be- 
 tween half and full cadences,t which, in homophonic 
 music — ^in plain-chant and in secular song — had long 
 been recognized. 
 
 The introduction of the natural duple rhythm into 
 music written for the church demanded the addition 
 of new signs to the mensural system of notation (cf. 
 Chap. VI, pp. 177 ff.), for it was necessary that singers 
 should be informed whether they were to sing ac- 
 cording to the triple or double scheme. Thus there 
 appear about this period new time signs. Of these a 
 semibreve, still called, by the way, tempus perfectum 
 circle, Q, signified the division of the breve into three 
 or perfect time. A half -circle, q, signified the division 
 of the breve into two semibreves, and this was imper- 
 fect time. A dot within the circle or the half -circle, O 
 G , indicated that the semibreve was to be divided into 
 three minims, but without the dot the semibreve 
 
 * Similar intervals occurring between two voices that pass from one 
 chord to another in parallel motion, 
 
 t A sequence of chords at the end of a phrase or period, involving. 
 In modem music, a clear enunciation of the tonality or key in which the 
 piece is written. Full, perfect, complete or authentic cadence is the domi- 
 nant harmony in root position followed by that of the tonic in root posi- 
 tion. This kind of cadence is comparable to a period. A half cadence 
 is a less definite closing, used for phrases not final. 
 
 229 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 equalled only two minims. The three-part division of 
 the semibreve constituted major prolation, the two- 
 part, minor prolation. Perfect or imperfect time was 
 sung twice as fast if the time sign was cut by a line, (\') 
 d. The second of these cut signs still survives in the 
 modern sign, (J , signifying alia breve time. It appears 
 likely that De Vitry himself was the first to think of 
 using colored notes to signify still another genus of 
 rhythmical subdivision called proportio hemiolia; and 
 that he was the first to use the term contrapunctus, or 
 counterpoint, instead of descant. 
 
 Through lack of actual examples of the period we 
 are unable to tell how thoroughly and readily church 
 composers adopted the methods of the ars nova, but 
 eventually their advocacy was of momentous impor- 
 tance. It is true that secular music was the first to bene- 
 fit by the advance, for it preserved naturally all the ele- 
 ments which the new law purposed to regulate. Hence 
 the first form — that which constitutes the first ground 
 of interaction, the transition to the polyphonic form of 
 church music — ^was the popular chanson, an elementary 
 form of song, evidently developed from the canson and 
 the ballad of the Troubadours, etc., which, as we know, 
 were composed for a solo voice with an improvised 
 instrumental accompaniment. According to Riemann 
 this development of the chanson first went forward in 
 Italy, in connection with the movement known as the 
 Florentine ars nova, a detailed account of which we 
 have chosen to reserve for our next chapter. The Ital- 
 ian ars nova, which is held by modern historians to 
 have influenced the French ars nova in various ways, 
 and to have transmitted to it a style of composition 
 in which the upper voice was freely invented and har- 
 monically interpreted — though in a rude manner — ^by 
 the accompanying voice or voices, a style which by 
 1400 was fully developed. These chansons were, it 
 should be noted, like their prototype, chiefly for one 
 
 230 
 
THE PAPAL BAN ON FIGURED MUSIC 
 
 solo voice with instrumental accompaniment and 
 varied by instrumental preludes, interludes, and post- 
 ludes. Purely vocal polyphony in chansons was rare 
 before 1500, though examples of an elementary kind 
 of part-songs have also been preserved, and, as the 
 polyphonic style advanced, these eventually superseded 
 the instrumentally accompanied solo (monodic song). 
 
 Meantime, however, the church had fallen heir to 
 these primarily secular inspirations and developed 
 under the rules of the ars nova a freer contrapuntal 
 style, whose chief vehicles were the Mass and the 
 Motet, forms whose general characteristics have been 
 explained in previous chapters. Characteristic of this 
 new polyphony is the so-called imitative style, whose 
 real origin has never been discovered and which is the 
 distinguishing feature of the schools about to be dis- 
 cussed. The first indications of this imitative, or 
 Netherland, style are found in the works of Jehannot 
 Lescurel and Guillaiune de Machault (d. ca. 1372). 
 
 Machault is the composer of the first known four- 
 part mass, which was performed at the coronation of 
 Charles V, in 1360. It must be admitted that this is 
 not a very good specimen, even of early polyphony. 
 The parallel octaves and fifths already prohibited by 
 musical authorities had no terrors for Machault, and 
 his discords amount to nothing less than cacophony. 
 It is a historical landmark, however, and serves as a 
 starting point from which to trace the development 
 of contrapuntal methods. In justice to Machault it 
 should perhaps be said that he was a much better poet 
 than composer, and his verses deserve a higher rank 
 than this music, which includes, besides the mass, two 
 and three-part chansons rondeaux and motets. 
 
 For some years longer Paris continued to be, as it 
 had been for more than two hundred years, the musical 
 centre of Europe. The prestige it had held so long was 
 lost, ultimately, not only through an actual decline of 
 
 231 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 original power, but through an abuse of the power they 
 possessed. The standards of the old organ masters of 
 Notre Dame, if somewhat dry, were at least scholarly; 
 but we begin to see, in the early fourteenth century, a 
 deterioration, and a tendency among singers to make 
 a display of their ability in improvisation. Canons 
 and rounds of that time, and even long after, were 
 written in a kind of shorthand, understood, pre- 
 sumably, by every trained singer, but nevertheless giv- 
 ing some freedom of judgment to the performer, which" 
 was easily abused. The first phrase of the cantus 
 flrmus was usually written out; after this a few signs in 
 Latin, meaning nothing to the modern musician un- 
 skilled in the mysteries of this art, would indicate the 
 time of entrance and relative pitch for the other voices. 
 Imitation was almost continuously in use; the 'acci- 
 dentals' of modern notation were but rarely indicated, 
 even as late as the time of Palestrina, and the 'key sig- 
 nature' of the present day was unknown. However, 
 the training of the chapel singers was such as to give a 
 thorough knowledge of the use of accidentals and of 
 the musical symbols of the time. Intricate rules for 
 their guidance were laid down; but, carried away by 
 the flood of new ideas, and unrestrained by scholarly 
 fastidiousness, many of them indulged in liberties 
 which loaded down the pure melody of the venerable 
 plain-chant with inappropriate ornamentations, and 
 often rendered it hopelessly unrecognizable. 
 
 In protest against these unwarranted melismas and 
 tasteless innovations of singers, especially of the ca- 
 thedral choirs and of the papal chapel, the famous bull 
 of 1322 was issued by Pope John XXII. It was not a 
 protest, primarily, either against the popular faux- 
 bourdon, which was generally in use until after the 
 return of the papacy to Rome (1377), or the contra- 
 puntal school, per se. It was certainly not against the 
 methods of the ars nova, as is proved by the use of cer- 
 
 232 
 
THE GALLO-BELGIAN SCHOOL 
 
 tain technical terms peculiar to the ars antiqua. It is 
 against the abuses of the latter school, the obscuring of 
 the plain-song melodies and the violation of the spirit 
 of church music by frivolous rhythmic variations, orna- 
 mentation, and juggling with counter melodies, often 
 of profane character. Many other protests of a like 
 nature came from the papal chair during the next two 
 hundred and fifty years; and we shall have occasion 
 to see, in a later chapter, the result of the struggle 
 between religious decorum, on the one hand, and, on 
 the other, the vagaries of the artistic mind in the throes 
 of development. 
 
 Yet it must be granted that the masters of the old 
 French school deserve no small credit for their scien- 
 tific and practical labors. During the time of their 
 ascendancy the resources of notation were increased, 
 double counterpoint was cultivated, a greater freedom 
 in metre and rhythm was introduced, the several voices 
 became more nearly independent, and an extraordinary 
 degree of attention was paid to the problems involved 
 in mensuration. They failed, however, in reaching a 
 point at which true artistic composition, in the larger 
 sense, begins. 'Of symmetrical arrangement, based 
 upon the lines of a preconceived design, they had no 
 idea. Their highest aspirations extended no farther 
 than the enrichment of a given melody with such har- 
 monies as they were able to improvise at a moment's 
 notice: whereas composition, properly so called, de- 
 pends, for its existence, upon the invention — or, at 
 least, upon the selection — of a definite musical idea, 
 which the genius of the composer presents, now in one 
 form, and now in another, until the exhaustive discus- 
 sion of its various aspects produces a work of art, as 
 consistent, in its integrity, as the conduct of a scholastic 
 thesis, or a dramatic poem.' * 
 
 It was this very quality of design which distinguished 
 
 *W. S. Rockstro, In Grove's Dictionary, HI, 259. 
 
 233 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the work of the Flemish composers, who, about the 
 middle of the fourteenth century, gained the dominat- 
 ing position among European musicians. 
 
 II 
 
 With the decline of the old French school the musical 
 leadership of Europe passed into the hands of the Early 
 Netherlanders, called by some historians the Gallo- 
 Belgian School, which flourished, roughly, from the 
 middle of the fourteenth to the middle of the fifteenth 
 century. 
 
 It will be remembered that the fourteenth century 
 was an epoch of great prosperity in the Netherlands. 
 The ancient nobility had lost power, while the towns, 
 with their astute and far-seeing traders, had acquired 
 extraordinary strength. Earlier many serfs had been 
 enfranchised, and thus a large body of sturdy workers 
 was liberated into the independent trades and soon be- 
 came wealthier and more powerful than the nobles. 
 The trade guilds and burghers were uncompromising 
 in resisting the encroachments both of the feudal lords 
 and of the Church, and were, therefore, enabled to 
 turn their energies toward commerce and agriculture, 
 unchecked by the influences of a corrupt government. 
 Great factories flourished, vessels of Dutch merchants 
 plied their trade in nearly every sea, population, 
 wealth, and intelligence increased. The ancient towns, 
 Bruges, Louvain, Antwerp, Ghent, Ypres, still bear tes- 
 timony to these days of prosperity in their magnificent 
 examples, not of ecclesiastical architecture, as in Italy, 
 but of splendid structures for municipal and domestic 
 use. It was among these prosperous and music-loving 
 people that the art of contrapuntal writing was nour- 
 ished. They did not invent or create polyphony, as 
 has long been believed; but they found pleasure in the 
 
 234 
 
THE GALLO-BELGIAN SCHOOL 
 
 fact that the principles of music could be reduced to 
 laws and rules, and the more intricate the rules, the 
 more the true Netherlanders delighted in them. In 
 fact, it was this very tendency that smothered polyph- 
 ony itself, in course of time; but not before a vast 
 amount of systematized knowledge had been preserved 
 for their successors. 
 
 The service of the Pope's chapel up to the time of its 
 return to Rome from Avignon in 1377 was sung in f aux- 
 bourdon, or in the still older method of extemporane- 
 ous descant. Ecclesiastical records show that, after the 
 return to Rome, several Belgian musicians were among 
 the singers in the papal choir. These brought with 
 them, along with other music, the first masses written 
 in counterpoint that had ever been seen there. Among 
 the Belgians in Rome, in the early fifteenth century, 
 was a tenor singer named William Dufay, born prob- 
 ably in Chimay, in Hainault, about 1400. There has 
 been much misapprehension concerning Dufay, owing 
 to the fact that Baini, an Italian historian (1775-1844), 
 gave, erroneously, the probable date of his death as 
 1432. Recent researches, however, especially those of 
 Sir John Stainer, have thrown much light on the life 
 and work of Dufay, and enabled historians to under- 
 stand facts which hitherto had seemed irreconcilable. 
 
 According to this recent authority, Dufay received 
 his musical education as chorister in the cathedral at 
 Cambrai, which in the fifteenth century belonged to the 
 Netherlands. It is famous as the seat of the archbish- 
 opric of Fenelon and of Dubois, and for its ancient 
 cathedral. According to contemporary evidence, the 
 music of the Cambrai cathedral was considered 'the 
 most beautiful in Europe.' * 
 
 It was but natural, then, that the papal choir at Rome 
 should draw what singers it could from Cambrai. It 
 
 * Quoted from an extant letter of Philip of Luxembourg to the Chapter 
 at Cambrai. 
 
 235 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 appears that Dufay entered it as the youngest member 
 in 1428 and remained five years. After a break he was 
 again appointed in the following decade, when he re- 
 mained but a short period. It was at the time a fre- 
 quent custom for the church to reward whom it would 
 by ecclesiastical appointments, allowing the holder of 
 office to reside elsewhere. According to this custom, 
 Dufay was appointed to the canonries of Cambrai and 
 Mons, both of which offices he held till his death, though 
 he removed to Savoy about 1437 and travelled some- 
 what in the interests of his art. He died at a great age 
 in 1474. His will is still preserved in the archives of 
 Cambrai, and in it, among other items, he bequeaths 
 money to the Cambrai altar boys. He is buried in the 
 chapel of St. Etienne, beneath a stone he himself caused 
 to be made, which, though mutilated, is still in exis- 
 tence. One of his last desires was that a certain motet 
 of his own composition be sung at his deathbed. 
 
 The chief source of our knowledge of Dufay's early 
 works is the 'MS. Canonici misc. 213' in the Bodleian 
 library at Oxford, compiled not later than 1436, a por- 
 tion of which has recently been explained and given to 
 the public by Sir John Stainer." The MS. represents 
 the period of transition from Machault to Dufay, in- 
 cluding the early works of the latter. They are mostly 
 in the old mensural (black) notation, and show an un- 
 usual proportion of secular pieces. Transcriptions and 
 solutions of sixty of them, belonging to the period 
 1400-1441, are given by Stainer. Most of the pieces are 
 dry in melody and show occasional harsh discords; but 
 they also exhibit examples of fugal form and some 
 crude attempts at expression. They are quite lacking 
 in a certain sweetness of harmony characteristic of his 
 later works, which has been traced to the influence of 
 his famous English contemporary, John Dunstable. It 
 appears advisable, therefore, to consider here the con- 
 
 * 'Dufay and His Contemporaries.' 
 
 236 
 
EARLY ENGLISH POLYPHONY 
 
 dition of music in England which is thus to make itself 
 felt upon the course of music in general. 
 
 Though the twelfth and thirteenth centuries do not, 
 in England, show well-defined groups of musicians 
 working toward a common end, such as constitute a 
 'school' in the accepted sense, there can be no doubt 
 that the English were ahead Of their time in the early 
 days of polyphony and that English music strongly in- 
 fluenced composers on the continent. Indeed a very 
 considerable case for the actual origin of polyphony 
 in England has been made out by recent historians of 
 great authority, and the case is supported by the fa- 
 mous old English canon, 'Sumer is icumen in' — one of 
 the earhest extant examples of polyphonic music. The 
 date of this interesting composition is given by Rock- 
 stro * as not later than 1250. It is a charming melody, 
 composed to a gay, naive poem, in the form of a round, 
 or canon, for six voices, and is supposed to have been 
 written by John Fornsete, a monk of Reading. In some 
 measures the parallel fifths and octaves show the in- 
 fluence of diaphony, while in others there is excellent 
 counterpoint which might have been written at least a 
 hundred and fifty years later. The imitation is not 
 confined to short phrases, but is consistently carried 
 through in the four upper voices to the close, over two 
 independent basses. The harmony is rather limited, 
 the F major chord being in great preponderance: but, 
 on the whole, the canon shows a high degree of skill in 
 polyphonic writing. It is, in short, a remarkable ex- 
 ample of the working out of an inspired folk song with 
 two systems of part writing, which, so far as we know, 
 were not contemporaneous. 
 
 One explanation of this apparent anomaly is that 
 the composition, originally the work of a song writer of 
 great natural genius, was later edited or corrected by a 
 learned musician. Parallel octaves and fifths were not 
 
 * Grove: 'Diet, of Music and Musicians.' 
 
 237 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 considered ofiFensive in the thirteenth century, and such 
 a learned scholar might easily have let them pass, while 
 lifting other parts of the music to an artistic form con- 
 siderably in advance of popular taste. It has been sup- 
 posed, on the other hand, that the composition is really 
 the single accidentally preserved specimen of a whole 
 musical literature, which has otherwise been lost. In 
 support of this latter theory it is urged that the art of 
 imitation, as illustrated in the canon, must have 
 reached a point of excellence beyond anything existing 
 in France or Belgium' at the time, and could only have 
 been the product of a well-defined school. However 
 the case may be, the song remains, an isolated but for 
 its time brilliant example testifying to the freshness, 
 vitality, and beauty of early English music. 
 
 It should be added that, under the auspices of the 
 'Plain-song and Mediaeval Music Society' of England, 
 researches have been carried on, resulting in the pub- 
 lication of two volumes,* the first containing photo- 
 graphic reproductions of sixty of the most notable 
 examples of English harmonized music prior to the 
 fifteenth century, the second transcriptions thereof into 
 modern musical notation, with explanatory notes. The 
 majority of the examples are written for two voices, 
 and some for three: none of these, however, can com- 
 pare, in regard to workmanship, with the 'Sumer' 
 canon, which is also included in the collection. 
 
 Not until the beginning of the fifteenth century do we 
 find actual evidence of a school, and it is interesting to 
 note the points of resemblance between it and the first 
 Netherland school. Both are characterized by a re- 
 hance on the plain-chant melody, by a conventional 
 opening, a lack of sensitiveness to discords, an avoid- 
 ance of the third in the closing chord, and an absence 
 of harmonic effects. Compared with the old French 
 
 * "Early English Harmony'; Vol. I edited by H. E. Wooldridge, 1897; 
 Vol. n edited by Rev. H. V. Hughes, 1913. 
 
 238 
 
JOHN DUNSTABLE 
 
 school, however, they show a genuine progress in the 
 abolition of the harsher discords, the use of the third 
 in cadences not final, and in the more frequent em- 
 ployment of imitation. 
 
 Representatives of the early English school, it is 
 important to note, were divided into two distinct 
 branches, one remaining for the most part on English 
 soil, while the other identified itself almost wholly with 
 continental schools, and, in respect to style, seems to 
 belong to them. In this latter group was John Dun- 
 stable, born about 1390, in Dunstable, England. He 
 died in 1453, and is buried in St. Stephen's, Walbrock, 
 where an epitaph was said to be inscribed on 'two 
 faire plated stoned in the Chancell, each by other.' An- 
 other, written by the Abbot of St. Albans, is headed: 
 
 IJpon John Dunstable, an astrologian, 
 A mathematician, a musitian, and -what not,' 
 
 and the six lines of elegiac Latin which follow bestow 
 upon him heartfelt praise. 
 
 Dunstable was a writer of songs both sacred and 
 secular. One of the latter, O Rosa bella, was discov- 
 ered in the Vatican in 1847, and is one of the most beau- 
 tiful specimens of the age. Of the two compositions in 
 the possession of the British Museum, one is a sort of 
 musical enigma, a form of composition quite in vogue 
 among the later Netherlanders. The other is a work 
 in three parts of some length, without words, and is 
 found in a splendid volume of MS. music formerly be- 
 longing to Henry VIII. Four sacred compositions, two 
 songs, and two motets are in the archives of the Liceo 
 Filarmonico of Bologna. 
 
 Even with these few examples of his work, Dun- 
 stable's reputation as a great musician seems to rest on 
 solid ground. More than half a dozen interesting ref- 
 erences to him are made in contemporaneous European 
 writings, among them being one by Tinctoris, a Bel- 
 
 239 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 gian theorist and composer (1445-1511), and another by 
 a French verse-writer, who compares Dufay, Binchois, 
 and Dunstable as song writers, to the advantage of the 
 Englishman. The passage from Tinctoris refers to 
 England as the fons et origo of counterpoint, and cites 
 Dunstable as her chief composer. 
 
 Absurd mistakes have crept into the commentaries 
 upon Dunstable. One early writer, Sebald Heyden 
 (1540), claimed that he was the inventor of counter- 
 point, and another identified him with St, Dunstan. 
 These and other errors were handed down by subse- 
 quent writers, until Ambros, in his Musikgeschichte, 
 set most of them right. Of course counterpoint was 
 not, and in the nature of things could not be, the in- 
 vention of any one man. It was built up gradually, one 
 school contributing a little here, another there, until a 
 comprehensive system was formed. 
 
 In England Dunstable's name was either little known 
 or else it was soon forgotten; for it fails to appear in 
 an important work, Scriptores Britannise, published in 
 1550, scarcely a century after his death. From the fact 
 that all but two of his extant compositions are in conti- 
 nental libraries, and that his reputation, during his 
 lifetime, was evidently far greater in Europe than in 
 England, it is supposed that most of his life was spent 
 abroad. Since none of Dunstable's compositions ap- 
 pear in the 'MS. Canonici,' it is evident that his fame 
 was not established in Europe when the collection was 
 made (not later than 1436). Contemporary references 
 to him, however, begin to appear about that time, or 
 shortly after; and it is a remarkable fact that the 
 compositions of Dufay, which are known to have been 
 written after this date, show a marked advance both in 
 contrapuntal skill and in style over those contained in 
 the 'MS Canonici.' In face of the facts that Dunstable 
 was not only an older contemporary of Dufay and 
 Binchois, but that he was also an excellent master of 
 
 240 
 
DUFAY AND BINCHOIS 
 
 counterpoint and style, it is, therefore, not unreason- 
 able to assume that he was one of the important sources 
 upon which these Gallo-Belgians drew for their in- 
 struction and inspiration. 
 
 Like the Netherland composers, Dunstable shows a 
 lack of variety and a failure to adapt his music to the 
 sentiments of the words : but he far surpasses them in 
 sweetness and beauty. His works are among the earli- 
 est to exhibit a design founded upon resources other 
 than the plain-chant melodies of the Church. He was 
 capable of writing learned musical puzzles, thus fore- 
 shadowing the frequent practice of the Netherlanders 
 of the next century; but he also wrote in lighter vein 
 with charm and purity, and definitely renounced the 
 harsh discords employed by Machault and others. It 
 is with good reason, therefore, that scholars have 
 predicated, from these facts, the influence of Dunstable 
 upon the early Netherlanders, even though, in his na- 
 tive land, we find no trace of his teachings until they 
 were imported later from the Low Countries. 
 
 Through Dunstable, therefore, we are led back to 
 Dufay and his contemporaries, and the real significance 
 of this first Netherland school. The writers belonging 
 to it were for centuries buried under the fame of the 
 later Flemish composers, Okeghem and his pupils. As 
 will be seen, however, Dufay is to be reckoned, not only 
 as an important pioneer in the strikingly brilliant 
 achievements of the Netherlanders, but also as the 
 actual founder of a school. Learned and well versed in 
 the musical science of his day, he possessed further- 
 more that indefinable touch of genius which enables a 
 man to build a little higher than his forerunners, and 
 leave art enriched by his labors. A large number of 
 his compositions have been recovered, among them 
 being fifty-nine secular songs, thirty-six sacred songs, 
 eight whole masses, and about twenty sections, or 
 movements, of masses. One hundred and fifty compo- 
 
 241 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 sitions were discovered by Haberl alone, hidden in the 
 archives of Bologna, Rome, and Trieste. Masses and 
 portions of masses are in the Brussels Library, others 
 at Cambrai, still others in the Paris library, and in 
 Munich a motet for three voices. 
 
 The oldest datable work is a chanson, Resveillies vous 
 et faites chiere lye, written in honor of the marriage of 
 Charles Malatesta, Lord of Pesaro, and Vittoria Co- 
 lonna, in 1415. Dufay was one of the first composers 
 to use the unfilled white notes, and it is believed that 
 he introduced other changes in notation. He deserves 
 great credit for discarding, in his later works, the empty 
 fourths and fifths, as well as the parallel fifths, which 
 still disfigured the music of some of the ablest com- 
 posers of the early fifteenth century. We find, further- 
 more, in Dufay a more developed, though not very ex- 
 tended, canonic treatment of voices; and, again, there 
 is occasionally noticeable a strong tendency toward 
 expression, as, for example, in the mass, Ecce Ancilla, 
 which is even more interesting on account of its har- 
 monic character. Moreover, after he settled at Cam- 
 brai in 1436 — that is, after Dunstable's European fame 
 was established — a new conception, similar to that 
 found in the English composer's works, seems to ani- 
 mate his compositions. His dry methods change, the 
 different voices become more melodious, the harsher 
 discords disappear, and the use of canon grows more 
 frequent. 
 
 The feature of Dufay's epoch, however, which had 
 a most far-reaching effect, and one which, inciden- 
 tally, brought the wrath of fifteenth century critics 
 upon his head, was the practice of using in the mass 
 secular melodies in place of the Gregorian cantus 
 iirmus. For example, the folk songs, Tant je me deduis, 
 Se la face ay pale, and L'omme arme, were incorpo- 
 rated as 'subjects' in a number of masses, which were 
 named after the tunes. The absolute invention of new 
 
 242 
 
OTHER GALLO-BELGIANS 
 
 subjects was foreign to composers of that day,- and such 
 familiar tunes, repeated in the various parts of the 
 mass, supplied a familiar nucleus, while the com- 
 poser's ingenuity found ample play in weaving about it 
 manifold figures and phrases. This was decidedly .a 
 new departure, and one that could not be agreeable to 
 the Church. But the new fashion was no sooner set 
 than other composers eagerly took it up. Dufay's pu- 
 pils adopted it and passed it on to the later Nether- 
 landers, who in turn handed it down to the Romans. 
 L'omme arme became such a favorite for the mass 
 that the younger Gallo-Belgians, Faugues and Ca- 
 ron, the Netherlanders Josquin and Lasso, and even 
 the Roman Palestrina, in his early work, made 
 use of it. In appropriating these secular melo- 
 dies usually only the beginning was employed, and 
 around this were woven contrapuntal devices. In 
 this manner the new melody acquired almost the 
 importance of a theme. Imitation of one part by 
 another, at a greater or less interval of time, is, at pres- 
 ent, so inevitably a characteristic feature of every mu- 
 sical composition of a higher order that it is difficult 
 to imagine a time when it was far from being an obvi- 
 ous or necessary element. The invention of this art 
 was for long attributed to Okeghem and his school; 
 though it is now apparent that it was not only prac- 
 tised fifty years earlier by Dufay, but that it was al- 
 ready used as early as 1250, as is seen in the now 
 famous canon 'Sumer is i-cumen in,' which has been 
 mentioned above. 
 
 This epoch of the activity of the Gallo-Belgians re- 
 sulted in the firm establishment of what might be called 
 the Netherland style. Technical ingenuity was exalted 
 over beauty of sound; the use of martial tunes and love 
 songs, some of them accompanied by most indiscreet 
 words, prevailed in the mass as long as the old polyph- 
 ony lasted; and the art of canon, although as yet 
 
 243 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Htnited and crude, took its place among the indispen- 
 sable adjuncts of all musical composition. 
 
 Of the three composers of this period who are fre- 
 quently mentioned together by the old writers, two 
 have already been briefly discussed. The third, Giles 
 Binchois, born about 1400, died in 1460, seven years 
 after Dunstable and fourteen years before Dufay. 
 First a soldier, then a priest, Binchois became chaplain- 
 chantre to Duke Philip of Burgundy in 1452. Like 
 Dufay, he was appointed non-resident canon of the 
 cathedral at Mons. Twenty-eight of his compositions 
 are in the 'MS. Canonici,' of which all but one are 
 secular. Six songs and two motets in the Munich li- 
 brary have also been recently discovered and tran- 
 scribed by Dr. Hugo Riemann. Among Binchois' ex- 
 tant works are also about a dozen sacred songs and six 
 parts of masses. Like his contemporaries of the same 
 school, Binchois was somewhat more interested in 
 technical performance than in expression. Tinctoris 
 mentions him with great praise as a composer whose 
 fame would endure forever. It is evident, also, from 
 the testimony of contemporary writers, that both Dufay 
 and Binchois were widely celebrated as masters and 
 teachers of counterpoint. 
 
 Another Gallo-Belgian, Eloy, born about 1400, pro- 
 duced a mass for five voices, a rarity for that time. 
 This work, called Dixerunt discipuli, is in the Vatican 
 library. Many of the pupils of Dufay and Binchois, 
 among whom were Busnois, Caron, Faugues, Basiron, 
 and Obrecht, became more or less celebrated in their 
 time, and constituted a kind of second generation or 
 transitional school between the first, or Gallo-Belgian, 
 and the later Netherland schools. Growing more famil- 
 iar with the resources of the contrapuntal method, they 
 improved upon the work of their masters, while ad- 
 hering, in essentials, to their precepts. Dufay and 
 Binchois, for instance, usually imitated the pattern 
 
 244 
 
OKEGHEM AND HIS SCHOOL 
 
 either in unison or the octave; their followers used also 
 the canon in the fifth, and carried it out with more 
 skill. They discovered the construction of chords, 
 though they still had no idea of rational chord progres- 
 sions. Busnois, especially, was a more skillful har- 
 monist than Dufay. His fame spread to Italy, and 
 Petrucci * included a number of his songs in one of 
 his earliest publications, about 1503. Among these 
 pieces is a four-part chanson, Dieu quel manage, 
 which, according to Naumann, is remarkable, not only 
 for the refinement of its harmony, but also on account 
 of its masterly treatment of the melody. This is placed 
 partly in the tenor and partly in the alto — a novel fea- 
 ture for the time — with no disturbance of the free mo- 
 tion and canonic flow of the other two parts. Busnois 
 had also more skill in design than Dufay, actually em- 
 ploying the beginning of the melody as a theme, and 
 building upon it the whole canonic structure of the 
 voices. 
 
 The spirit of change was upon the art of music, as it 
 had been in turn upon architecture, poetry, and paint- 
 ing. Dry outlines were giving place to greater fullness 
 of detail, to greater richness of coloring, harmony, and 
 expression; but, even as music was the last of the arts 
 to be affected by the renascent vitality of the late Mid- 
 dle Ages, so it was slow in travelling the tortuous 
 course of technical difficulties which had to be con- 
 quered before true beauty of expression could be 
 reached. Nevertheless, even at this time, music was a 
 real art, possessing laws, modes of diction, and even 
 traditions. Though it revealed its youthfulness in its 
 limitations and crudeness it was by no means chaotic. 
 The music of the mass already showed definite signs of 
 form. There was a shadowy idea of key distribution, 
 and efforts to arrive at a satisfactory method of modu- 
 lation are evident on every hand. The compositions of 
 
 * See Chapter X. 
 
 245 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the time begin to show a love of variety and contrast, 
 together with extreme regularity in the matter of 
 rhythm. During this time also it is clear that in some 
 forms of secular music, at least, instrumental accom- 
 paniments were used. Sometimes songs, and even mo- 
 tets, were played and not sung; again, instruments were 
 counted upon to assist the voices through difficult pas- 
 sages. The major seventh was not considered unvocal, 
 but the compass of both instruments and voices was 
 exceedingly limited. On every hand efforts were made 
 to break through the bonds of old tradition. In these 
 and other matters it is plain that our first Netherland- 
 ers had left the Troubadour Machault far behind. 
 
 Ill 
 
 The next important advance in the art of polyphony 
 is associated with the name of Johannes Okeghem,* 
 to whom the leadership in the art of music passed at 
 the death of Duf ay, in 1474. Like many other mu- 
 sicians of the time, Okeghem was trained as a choir 
 boy, being one of the fifty-three choristers in the ca- 
 thedral at Antwerp just before the middle of the cen- 
 tury. About twenty years later we find him in Paris as 
 royal chapel master, in great favor with King Louis 
 the Eleventh. He travelled to Spain at the King's ex- 
 pense, and later, about 1484, revisited his native coun- 
 try, where he was received at Bruges with great cere- 
 mony. It is evident, therefore, that his fame was 
 already well established during the lifetime of the 
 older master, Dufay, to whose mantle he fell heir at 
 about the age of forty-five. It is thought that during 
 the latter period of his life he resided at Tours, where 
 
 * The form Ockenheim was introduced by Glarean, apparently without 
 sufficient reason. It is supposed that Okeghem was born about 1430. 
 
 246 
 
OKEGHEM AND HIS SCHOOL 
 
 he died in 1495. It is most likely that he was a pupil of 
 Binchois, rather than of Dufay. 
 
 The extant compositions of this master are seventeen 
 masses, seven motets, nineteen chansons, and a number 
 of canons. One mass is in the possession of the papal 
 chapel, and five of the chansons were published by 
 Petrucci early in the sixteenth century, not long after 
 Okeghem's death. The Missa cujusvis toni was used 
 for many years in the cathedral at Munich, where the 
 MS., with corrections made by the singers themselves, 
 still exists. Another mass, Deo gratia, has become one 
 of the curiosities of musical history, from the fact that 
 it is written for thirty-six parts, with a nine-fold canon. 
 
 It may be said at once that Okeghem's celebrity, and 
 his important place in the history of polyphony, rest 
 upon two things : his remarkable influence as a teacher, 
 and the fact that under him and his pupils the canonic 
 style, in extremely ingenious combinations, reached the 
 apogee of its development. Preceding composers had 
 studied and written much about the proper manner of 
 treating two or more melodies in combination, about 
 intervals, progressions, dissonances,- mensural prob- 
 lems, and the art of imitation, diminution, inversion, 
 and the like. Some of them had expended their genius 
 in systematizing and classifying the complex rules for 
 contrapuntal writing, and they delighted in setting 
 themselves difficult tasks to be performed within these 
 rigid rules. This was all very well; it resulted in the 
 establishment of a perfected technique and a body of 
 knowledge, the value of which was recognized by every 
 musician with scholarly aims. Okeghem appeared on 
 the scene at a time when the struggle with technical 
 difficulties seemed to be an end in itself, and his 
 genius — of the mathematical sort — enabled him to 
 master and play with them. It is a mistake to suppose 
 that he devoted himself wholly, or even largely, to the 
 composition of more 'riddle canons,' as they are called; 
 
 247 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 but it is probably a fact that he is most frequently re- 
 membered and characterized by them. 
 
 'Fiiga quator vocum ex unica' 
 
 BIDDI/E CANON BT PIEBBB DE LA SUE 
 
 A hint as to the nature of these curious compositions 
 will be sufficient, perhaps, to mystify the uninitiated 
 reader. The mass, Ad omnem tonum, shows, instead 
 of the clefs, question marks as signatures; and it may 
 be sung, by using the corresponding accidentals, in any 
 church mode. The thirty-six part mass, with canon for 
 nine parts, already mentioned, is not a 'riddle,' but has 
 all the difficulties of one. In Okeghem's school is 
 found the so-called 'crab canon,' canon cancrizans, 
 which is first sung through in the usual way from be- 
 ginning to end, then repeated backward. There is 
 also a canon which, like the canon cancrizans, is to 
 be sung through twice, but from the beginning to the 
 end both times. In the second singing, however, each 
 progression of the original melody down is answered 
 by a corresponding interval up, or vice versa. This is 
 known as the 'inverted canon.' One of Okeghem's fol- 
 lowers, Hobrecht, furnishes us even with a canon which 
 has both the retrograde and the inverted motion. 
 
 In fact, canonic forms of all varieties and complica- 
 tions were treated by Okeghem and his school to the 
 point of exhaustion. It must not be forgotten that the 
 range given to a single voice was much more limited 
 than at present; that these compositions must conform 
 to the strictest rules, not only when sung in the normal 
 manner, but when repeated in retrograde or inverted 
 motion; and that the very essence of the work was the 
 perfection attained in adhering to contrapuntal laws, 
 
 248 
 
OKEGHEM AND HIS SCHOOL 
 
 rather than the expression of individual feeling. 
 Okeghem himself made these puzzles but rarely, and, 
 as it were, in the manner of providing an intellectual 
 treat for the educated musicians of his day, especially 
 those who formed the church choirs. These difficult 
 works were a test of their ability and thorough ac- 
 quaintance with Church modes; they afforded exercise 
 in transposition from one mode to another and offered 
 the charm of variety which the special characteristics 
 of each individual mode imparted. Furthermore, they 
 tended to develop the highest artistry the vocalist was 
 capable of, and were an illustration of the variety of 
 combinations possible with the already existing parts. 
 
 It has often been claimed that Okeghem was only a 
 musical pundit; that his works are merely curiosities, 
 depending for their interest on their mathematical in- 
 genuity, and not on their artistic worth. But such a 
 judgment does the master less than justice. Even from 
 the point of view of later and more beautiful achieve- 
 ments, it must be acknowledged that at least some of 
 his compositions have a certain artistic merit. More- 
 over, the service of Okeghem and his school was one 
 of the necessary preliminaries to the full perfection of 
 the art of polyphony. Technical difficulties were solved 
 once for all, and a vast system of theoretical knowledge 
 was prepared by their devoted labors for the use of 
 the OTeater masters who should follow. So keen a critic 
 andyiidge as R. G. Kiesewetter (1841) says of Okeg- 
 hem and his followers : '. . . they have greater f aciUty 
 in counterpoint and fertility in invention; their compo- 
 sitions, moreover, being no longer mere premeditated 
 submissions to contrapuntal operation, are for the most 
 part indicative of thought and sketched with manifest 
 design; being also full of ingenious contrivances of an 
 obligato counterpoint, at that time just discovered.' 
 
 Besides, the work of Okeghem is interesting as illus- 
 trating a certain phase of character peculiar to the 
 
 249 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Middle Ages. There was, at the time, a love of secrecy 
 and mystery, which led artists and expert craftsmen 
 to embody the signs of their craft in a private and 
 esoteric system, which no one but the initiated could 
 understand. In accordance with this trend, the writing 
 down of a canon of Okeghem, as has been pointed out, 
 often took the form of a special musical design, con- 
 sisting only of a few notes and a short Latin inscrip- 
 tion. The reading of such a canon was not always 
 easy, even to the initiated: but to the novice it had all 
 the mystery of a Delphic oracle. It was not possible, 
 of course, even for the most cultivated musician, upon 
 hearing such a work performed, to recognize and fol- 
 low all its complexities. Okeghem was the master who 
 aroused and nourished the taste for these complex 
 achievements in music, though he was by no means 
 their inventor. Such devices, though to a less degree, 
 were already known to Dufay, as is shown in his canon, 
 L'omme arme. But Okeghem brought the art to the 
 point of virtuosity; and it is for this reason he stands 
 at the head of the Netherland school. Judged by the 
 standard of pure art, he is at his best as a composer 
 of chansons. Even these, however, have long outlived 
 their day, just as his contrapuntal riddles have long 
 ceased to tease the intelligence or curiosity of lovers 
 of music. 
 
 It is by virtue of another quality, his gift for teaching, 
 that Okeghem lives to-day. As the founder of the 
 Netherland school merely, his influence must almost 
 have ceased when the traditions of that school were 
 superseded by the vital enthusiasm of another; but, as 
 the teacher of the leaders of succeeding schools, he has 
 achieved a kind of immortality sometimes missed by 
 greater artists. In the whole history of music Okeghem 
 as a teacher stands alone. Only Porpora, possibly, the 
 great singing master of the eighteenth century, can be 
 compared to him. Kiesewetter says, 'Through his 
 
 250 
 
JOSQUIN DES PRfeS 
 
 pupils the art was transplanted into all countries, and 
 he must be regarded (for it can be proved by geneal- 
 ogy) as the founder of all schools from his own to the 
 present age.' 
 
 Only a few of his most distinguished pupils can be 
 mentioned here: Jean de Roi, Basiron, Jacques Bar- 
 bireau, Pierre de la Rue, Comprere, Agricola, Caron, 
 Verbonnet, Brumel, and, greatest of all, Josquin des 
 Pres. Some of them, such as Agricola, unfortunately 
 conceived the writing of contrapuntal intricacies to be 
 their chief duty; while others used their acquired 
 knowledge to better purpose. The Belgian, Hobrecht 
 (1450-1505), chapel master of Notre Dame at Antwerp, 
 was probably not a personal pupil of Okeghem, though 
 a zealous follower and admirer. While assimilating 
 and adopting the master's ingenuity, he also was able 
 to weave into his masses and motets a personal, sub- 
 jective quality which marks them with the composer's 
 individuality. So highly esteemed was Hobrecht in his 
 day that in 1494 the whole choir of the principal church 
 in Bruges, for which he had written a mass, travelled 
 to Antwerp in order to express thanks and do him 
 honor. 
 
 During Okeghem's supremacy — a matter of forty 
 years or so — some of the more interesting forms, which 
 had been cultivated in the time of Dufray, disappeared. 
 We look in vain for the mediaeval rondo, the ballad, 
 the accompanied secular art song, and the paraphrased 
 church song, with instrumental accompaniment. The 
 contribution of Okeghem and his followers was the 
 development of technical resources and a greater free- 
 dom, both in range and style, in vocal composition. 
 His unremitting, thoughtful search for fundamental 
 rules established the art of polyphony on a firm basis, 
 and provided a safe starting point for the utterance 
 of truth and passion. It is the fate, however, of work 
 depending on a passing taste to grow old quickly, and 
 
 251 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Okeghem himself probably outlived his popularity. 
 But his pupils spread over Europe and perpetuated his 
 learning, and some of them, at least, enriched the art 
 by a fresher genius. Unlike the old French and Gallo- 
 Belgian masters, who stayed at home, these writers 
 overflowed into Italy and Germany, established schools 
 of instruction, and founded choruses for the production 
 of vocal works. Among them, moreover, was one 
 genius who exercised the strongest influence on the art 
 of music, and deserves to rank as one of its greatest 
 masters. That genius was Josquin des Pres. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Josquin des Pres is almost the last in the long list of 
 Netherland composers, and overtops them all, with the 
 exception of Lassus. The year of his birth is uncer- 
 tain, but has been placed at about 1450, since he was a 
 singer in the papal chapel under Pope Sixtus IV (1471- 
 84). He has been claimed as a countryman by Italian 
 writers, because his name was modified into del Prato; 
 by German, because, ethnologically and geographically, 
 the Low Countries are a part of Germany; by the 
 French, because the Netherlands became a political 
 dependency of France about two hundred years after 
 Josquin's death; and naturally the Belgians claim some 
 share in the fame of the man who represents the glory 
 of Belgian music. The towns of Conde, Tours, and 
 Cambrai, the home of Dufay, and of others, have aU 
 been candidates for the honor of his birth; but scholars 
 are now agreed that he was born at least in the prov- 
 ince of Hainault, which belonged, during the middle 
 and later fifteenth century, to the dominions of Philip 
 the Good of Burgundy. Josquin had been chapel 
 singer at Milan before entering the papal choir (1484), 
 
 252 
 
Josquin des Pres 
 
JOSQUIN DES PRfeS 
 
 and afterward he is found in the service of Louis XII 
 of France, with whom he was a great favorite. Like 
 some of his predecessors, he received an appointment 
 to a canonry, but seems not to have kept the office very 
 long. In the year 1515 the Netherlands became Ger* 
 man, and, acording to Konrad Peutinger, Josquin left 
 France for a position in the Netherland chapel of 
 Maximilian I. It seems probable, therefore, that he 
 spent the latter part of his life at Conde, in his native 
 country, where he died in 1521. 
 
 Okeghem was still alive, and Dufay less than a score 
 of years dead, when Josquin's fame sprang to the sky^ 
 So great a stir did his gifts create in Rome that beside 
 him the fame of all other composers paled. The Duke 
 Hercules d'Este of Farrara, for whom Josquin com- 
 posed a mass entitled Hercules dux Ferrariae, called 
 him the Prince of Music; and the Abbate Baini, director 
 of the pontifical chapel in the early nineteenth century, 
 says of him: 'In a short time, by his new productions, 
 he becomes the idol of Europe. There is no longer 
 tolerance for any one but Josquin. Josquin alone is 
 sung in every chapel in Christendom. Nobody but Jos- 
 quin in Italy, nobody but Josquin in France, nobody 
 but Josquin in Germany, in Flanders, in Hungary, in 
 Spain — Josquin and Josquin alone.' * 
 
 Fables grew up about his name, as about that of 
 Homer or Wilhelm Tell. It is said that the French 
 monarch, under whom Josquin served, had a bad voice 
 and a still worse ear. Nevertheless, he was fond of 
 music and desired his brilliant retainer to compose 
 something in which he could take part. Josquin was 
 equal to the occasion. He constructed a quartette 
 somewhat different from the usual sort, there being two 
 upper parts in a canon, and a free bass. To these he 
 added a fourth part, the vox regis, as he flippantly 
 called it, consisting of a single note which it was the 
 
 *'Iafe of Palestrina,' Rome, 1828. 
 
 253 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 king's office to repeat, almost incessantly, throughout 
 the piece ! 
 
 The emoluments even of a royal musician were evi- 
 dently not always prompt or large, and Josquin is 
 reported more than once to have given the cue to the 
 king by compositions whose opening Biblical words 
 contained a punning comment on the royal dilatoriness 
 in paying salaries, or whose sacred meaning could be 
 amusingly applied to his own indigence. When finally 
 the king good-naturedly took the hint, Josquin poured 
 out his gratitude in a motet, 'Lord, thou hast dealt 
 graciously with thy servant.' One biographer of Jos- 
 quin cynically declares that the thank-offering was not 
 at all up to the mark of the petitions. 
 
 Gaiety and humor were often in evidence in his mu- 
 sic, as one would expect from so witty, lively a char- 
 acter. His work generally shows a careful finish and 
 attention to details. Naumann points out that he takes 
 greater care in declamation, groups his voices for bet- 
 ter color effects, and achieves results, especially in the 
 masses, which foreshadow the grandeur and simplicity 
 of the great period of ecclesiastical music under Pales- 
 trina. The Passion motets and Stabat Mater for five 
 voices are among the most famous of his works. Se- 
 vere contrapuntal art is shown in the two L'omme arme 
 masses, as well as in Pange lingua and Fortuna des- 
 perata. The contrapuntal ingenuity, however, is lost 
 sight of in a genial, naive quality combined with no- 
 bihty and ceremonial dignity. 
 
 His fame as a writer of chansons equalled his repu- 
 tation in sacred music. In these also he stands far 
 ahead of his contemporaries, paying more attention to 
 syllabic values, and entering into the mood of the text. 
 His manner is unforced and gay, and here, too, his 
 great contrapuntal ingenuity is veiled by poetical, 
 nicely calculated effects. 
 
 Concerning his work as a whole in comparison with 
 
 254 
 
MERITS OF THE NETHERLAND SCHOOLS 
 
 his predecessors, it is generally considered that he is 
 more concise, easier to comprehend, less laden with 
 artifice, and able at last to put soul into the elaborate 
 framework of the polyphonic art. He is the first im- 
 portant musician whose work has come down to us in 
 such quantities as to enable critics to judge adequately 
 of his powers. He was in the prime of life when the 
 art of printing music by means of movable types was 
 invented, and for a century or more his compositions 
 were included in almost every collection that was 
 made. Among his extant works are thirty-two masses, 
 fragments of masses, motets, some of them for 
 five parts, and chansons. Portions of his work have 
 been given to the public successively by Petrucci 
 (early sixteenth century), in Junta's edition, Rome, 
 1521, in the Missa XII of Graphseus, 1539; and no less 
 than seven special editions of portions of his works 
 were made during the sixteenth century. Masses in 
 manuscript are to be found in the archives of the papal 
 chapel, as well as in the libraries of Munich and Cam- 
 brai. Besides these, numerous examples have been 
 preserved in the works of Glarean, Sebald Heyden, 
 Forkel, Burney, Hawkins, Kiesewetter, Ambros, and 
 others. The number and importance of his commen- 
 tators and editors are glowing tributes to the importance 
 of the man himself. With the exception of Lassus, 
 no other Netherland master enjoyed such fame, either 
 during life or after death. He is called 'Jodocus' in 
 affection, and described as 'at once learned and pleas- 
 ing, everywhere graceful, the universal favorite of the 
 age, welcomed everywhere, ruling without a rival.' 
 Luther mentions the 'Jodocus' as one of his favorite 
 composers, saying that others were mastered by notes, 
 while Josquin did what he pleased with them. 
 
 And with all this popularity, even glorification, 
 *what living singer has ever sung, or what living ama- 
 teur has ever heard, a note of his music? Specimens 
 
 255 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of it are not current, it is true; but neither are they in- 
 accessible. Three hundred and fifty years are as noth- 
 ing in the lifetime of a book, a building, a statue — 
 even of a picture, so much more perishable. , . . 
 Dante had need of a commentator before Josquin could 
 have learned to read: the frescoes of Giotto were be- 
 ginning to decay ere he visited Italy, and the beautiful 
 cathedral of St. Quentin had entered its third century 
 ere he first raised his voice in it.' * 
 
 The eclipse of Josquin's fame, however, appears not 
 to be quite so complete and thorough to-day as when 
 the above words were written (1862). A number of 
 German societies now regularly include his composi- 
 tions in their programs, and some of his works have 
 been given in New York during the current year (1914) . 
 But no matter how neglected, he occupies a great and 
 honored place in the history of music. Hitherto, as 
 we have seen, musicians had been almost entirely ab- 
 sorbed in the study and application of technical de- 
 tails. Their art was, first and foremost, an intellectual 
 exercise, and its appeal, naturally, almost entirely 
 limited to the intellect. To the modern amateur, good 
 music is that which touches him. He wishes to be con- 
 scious of that indefinable spirit which is at once both 
 simpler and deeper than intellect. The greater part 
 of the contrapuntal subtleties of Okeghem must have 
 left the listener cold, remaining in history only as 
 amazing tours de force, whose artificial perfection 
 could only be a stage in the development toward some- 
 thing higher. It was this higher quality, achieved by 
 Josquin, which placed him at the head of composers 
 of his time, and gives him importance in history. He, 
 too, possessed the technical skill and learning neces- 
 sary to the construction of contrapuntal riddles; he, 
 too, was sometimes artificial, and occasionally sur- 
 passed even Okeghem in his quaint and grotesque 
 
 * HuUata: 'Lectures on the History of Modern Music,' p. 53. 
 
 256 
 
MERITS OF THE NETHERLAND SCHOOLS 
 
 combinations. But such intellectual gymnastic feats 
 were not an important matter with him. He used, and 
 has the distinction of being the first to use, learning as 
 a means of expression, as the vehicle of personal, sub- 
 jective, and sympathetic utterance. His style became 
 simpler and more transparent, his conception of the 
 text more poetic, and, by reason of these qualities, truth 
 and beauty of expression are his chief merits. 
 
 The labor of the Netherlanders, from Dufay to the 
 death of Josquin, offers a spectacle of almost unparal- 
 leled activity and painstaking research. It was, for 
 the art of polyphony, the period of youth and adoles- 
 cence, with its enormous energy, its too great reliance 
 upon intellect, and its comparative lack of mellowness 
 and heart. Dufay was a singer in the papal chapel 
 exactly one hundred years before Josquin held the 
 same position. He, with other Gallo-Belgians and the 
 English Dunstable, added to the body of technical 
 knowledge, established the principles of design in 
 composition, and brought sacred music into closer 
 touch with folksong. Okeghem and his immediate fol- 
 lowers were intoxicated, not with the wine of poetry 
 or passion, but with a desire for intellectual artifice 
 and refinement. They expended their genius on tech- 
 nique as an end, and produced compositions beside 
 which even the most intricate contrapuntal efforts of 
 later days seem almost like child's play. Such work 
 carries within itself, however, the seeds of its own 
 destruction, and, so far as it rested upon puzzling sub- 
 tleties, it was doomed to die. Nevertheless, the schools 
 of Dufay and Okeghem prepared the way and the 
 materials for the third and greatest of the indigenous 
 Netherland schools, that of Josquin. To him the re- 
 sources of counterpoint were merely the means to ob- 
 tain beauty of expression. It is for this reason that we 
 regard him as the first great composer. 
 
 F. B. 
 257 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE 
 
 Spirit of the Renaissance— Trooatori and cantori a Unto; The Floren- 
 tine Ars nova; Landino; caccta, ballata, madrigal — The fifteenth century; 
 the Medici; Netherland Influence; popular song forms — ^Adrian Willaert 
 and the new madrigal — Orazio Vecchi and the dramatic madrigal. 
 
 We have learned in the previous chapters how 
 music, an incipient art fastened in the bondage of re- 
 ligious mysticism, groped through the blackness of 
 the mediaeval night; how, bound by dogmatic rule, it 
 became the object of intellectual lucubration, the 
 scholastic medium of pedants, who reared their stu- 
 pendous structure of Gothic intricacy beyond the reach 
 of ordinary man, 'that tower of Babel, in the building 
 of which tongues were confounded, till no one under- 
 stood what he sang nor what he heard.' And we 
 have seen how this edifice, in adapting itseK to the 
 use of the denizens, softened its lines and its angles, 
 broadened its spaces and became a thing of beauty — 
 a process in which we see reflected the dawn of a 
 new era, when humanity breathes a freer air; that 
 glorious spiritual awakening which found its religious 
 expression in the Reformation, its aesthetic revelation 
 in the Renaissance. We shall presently consider the 
 influence of the former upon the course of music in 
 Germany; our immediate purpose is to follow the path 
 of the parallel process accomplished through the Re- 
 naissance in Italy. 
 
 In the words of J. Addington Symonds, the history 
 of the Renaissance is 'the history of the attainment 
 of self-conscious freedom by the human spirit mani- 
 
 258 
 
THE ITALIAN RENAISSANCE 
 
 fested in the European races.' In politics it meant 
 the breaking down of the reactionary forces vested in 
 the church and the empire, in science it meant the 
 substitution of knowledge for superstition, the fear- 
 less exploring of new continents and the demonstra- 
 tion of the infinity of the universe; in art it meant 
 the firing of man's imagination, the stimulation of 
 his creative faculties by the Revival of Learning, 'that 
 rediscovery of the classic past which restored the con- 
 fidence in their own faculties to men striving after a 
 spiritual freedom, . . . which held up for emulation 
 master works of literature, philosophy and art, pro- 
 voked inquiry, shattered the narrow mental barrier 
 imposed by mediaeval orthodoxy.' 
 
 Just as the artist 'humanized the altar pieces and 
 the cloister frescoes upon which he worked' and so 
 'silently substituted the love of beauty and the interest 
 of actual life for the principles of the church,' so the 
 musician 'humanized' the service of the church, 
 brought beauty, expression and emotion into his 
 masses and motets, imbuing them with the dramatic 
 spirit, the spirit of passion, which had never been 
 absent from the secular music of the people, the music 
 that is always indigenous to the soil. It is in this mu- 
 sic that we must first seek the embodiment of the 
 Renaissance spirit, which means the direct expression 
 of hmnan emotions in terms of oral beauty. That spirit 
 has been associated in the history of music with two 
 things : the 'invention' of monody * and the rise of 
 opera, both of which are placed about the end of the 
 sixteenth century. But recent research has shown 
 
 * The word monody may be applied to the purely melodic, miaccom- 
 panied music of ancient times and the plain-song era, which, however, 
 is better described as homophony, in contradistinction to monody in the 
 present sense, namely, solo melody with instrumental accompaniment. 
 In monodic music the upper voice predominates throughout and determines 
 the harmonic structure. In vocal polyphony, or counterpoint, the princi- 
 pal voice (cantus flrmus) was usually in the tenor, and had no such deter- 
 mining significance. 
 
 259 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 these apparently sudden events to be the outcome of a 
 development extending back nearly three hundred 
 years, so that they become the objective rather than 
 the starting point of our account, which will aim to 
 trace the steps by which this momentous reform was 
 accomplished. 
 
 Our story has a direct connection with Chapter VII, 
 where we spoke of the art of the Provencal trouba- 
 dours. Though their influence was not felt in Italy tiU 
 late in the twelfth century it bore a fruit as rich as it 
 had in France. In the middle of the thirteenth a num- 
 ber of troubadours and jongleurs visited Frederick II 
 at Milan, in the train of Raymon Berengar, Count of 
 Provence. The Emperor extended his patronage to 
 them, as did also Charles d'Anjou, the king of Naples. 
 They became known among the people as uomini di 
 corti, and ciarlatanti (because their chief theme was 
 the exploits of Charlemagne), and the natives taught 
 by them were called trovatori and giocolini. These 
 soon cultivated native poetry in the Italian vernacular, 
 the volgar poesia, which spread its influence to north- 
 ern Italy as well and found representatives especially 
 in Florence and Bologna. The thirteenth century re- 
 cords the names of Quittona d'Arezzo, Guido Guincelli 
 and Jacopone da Todi, and upon the threshold of 
 the fourteenth stands Dante (1265-1321), one of the 
 greatest poets of all times, who with Petrarch (1304- 
 1374) and Boccaccio (1313-1375) finally demonstrates 
 the power of the Italian language as an artistic me- 
 dium. In these three, Symonds says, 'Italy recovered 
 the consciousness of intellectual liberty.' What is 
 more to our purpose, they so clarified and amplified 
 the Italian tongue that it became the vehicle for a 
 national literature, in which were produced not only 
 
 260 
 
TROVATORI AND CANTORI A LIUTO 
 
 epics after the classic models, but also lyric gems in 
 new and spontaneous forms, which would inspire the 
 creation of melody. 
 
 Among these poetic forms we frequently meet with 
 canzone and madrigals (then called mandriale, from 
 Ital. mand/'a=hearth), which were evidently written to 
 be sung. Their melodies, however, were no longer com- 
 posed by the poets themselves but by a class of musi- 
 cians characteristic of Italy during the Renaissance, the 
 cantori a liuto, lutenists, who were essentially com- 
 posers and singers, as distinguished from the trovatori, 
 who were poets primarily. One of these cantori a 
 liuto was Dante's friend, Casella, whose name he has 
 perpetuated in the Purgatorio* The importance of 
 the lutenists in this and succeeding periods of music 
 calls for a brief explanation of their instrument. The 
 lute was a plucked string instrument, somewhat re- 
 sembling the guitar. Its origin was oriental. The 
 favorite instrument of the Arabs, it reached Italy by 
 way of Spain, and thence spread all over Europe. In 
 the fifteenth to the seventeenth century it came to hold 
 a place relatively as prominent as our pianoforte to-day 
 — ^it was the household instrument par excellence and 
 an important member of early orchestras. In shape 
 the lute resembles the mandolin rather than the guitar, 
 but it was made in various sizes, varieties, and ranges 
 (chitaronne, theorbo, etc.). The number of strings 
 was variable. Five pairs running across the finger- 
 board and an additional single one for the melody 
 were fretted; the rest running outside were used only 
 as open strings. The tunings varied at different peri- 
 ods, and, as in the case of the organ, a special kind of 
 notation, or tablature, was used (cf. Vol. VIII, Chap. II). 
 
 * Dante's ballate were everywhere known and sung, according to 
 Saccheti's novels, and when Dante overheard a blacksmith singing his 
 song he scolded him for having altered it. Dante himself was, according 
 to an anonymous writer of the thirteenth century, dilettore net canto e 
 ogni suono. 
 
 261 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 It must not be supposed, however, that these lutenists 
 were learned musicians in the sense of the contra- 
 puntists who, at this same period, flourished in the 
 Netherlands, and who had already begun to invade 
 Italy. They were not familiar with the complicated 
 musical science of the time. The ecclesiastical modes, 
 mensural science, notation and its ramifications, liga- 
 tures, prolation and proportions, the theory of con- 
 sonance and dissonance, the laws of voice progres- 
 sion, etc., all combined to form a science so formidable 
 as to baffle all but those devoting their lives to its 
 study. A boy put to school in childhood could achieve 
 only in manhood the knowledge of a 'cantor.' As 
 for composing, he would first have to be, as Kiesewetter 
 says, a 'doctor of counterpoint.' The lutenists were 
 none such; they were essentially dilettanti and hence 
 their art, which was transmitted from ear to ear, has 
 not been preserved to us. To gain a knowledge of 
 the nature of their music we must turn to the more 
 learned native musicians, who, we know, cultivated 
 the same forms in the fourteenth century. 
 
 Here we meet with the most remarkable revelations. 
 We will recall how music in its course of develop- 
 ment under the guidance of the church 'chose a path 
 which led directly away from the solo style of the 
 folk song or the song of the troubadours and into 
 the realm of polyphonic imitation.' It has been sup- 
 posed, therefore, that the vocal solo had no place in 
 the system and never appeared in the art music 
 of the time. But recent investigators have unlocked 
 for us a treasure of song by a school of ItaUan mu- 
 sicians of the early fourteenth century who per- 
 petuated not only the solo style, but the solo song 
 with instrumental accompaniment, which is the sup- 
 posed 'invention' of the Florentine monodists of 
 1600 ! Fetis was the first to make known to the world 
 the existence of the precious manuscript of the Bib- 
 
 262 
 
THE FLORENTINE ARS NOVA 
 
 liotheque Nationale in Paris, dated 1375, which con- 
 tains the specimens of these early Renaissance masters, 
 among whom we should mention Jacopo da Bologna, 
 Giovanni da Cascia (1329-1351), Francesco Landino 
 (1325-139Z) and GhiradeUus de Padua. Their worth 
 was appreciated not only by Fetis who, in speaking 
 of Giovanni da Cascia, says that 'Guillaume de Ma- 
 chault, who was the most celebrated French musician 
 of the same epoch, does not show greater ability,' * but 
 also by other historians. Ambros says, 'If their (the 
 Italians') works take an inferior position to that of 
 the Netherlanders the reason is not lack of talent, 
 but the fact that because of a disposition deeply 
 rooted in the Italian nature and character, which later 
 bore the richest fruits, the Italians were to develop 
 certain sides of the art, before it had to be subjected 
 to the indispensable school of contrapuntalism.' But 
 none of the historians were aware of the full signifi- 
 cance of this music until Johannes Wolf's f study of 
 mensural notation appeared and until Hugo Riemann's 
 deductions t for the first time placed it in its true 
 light. It is this school, which he characterizes as the 
 Italian Ars nova, whose influence upon the French Ars 
 nova and its chanson literature we have already em- 
 phasized. 
 
 The centre of this art is Florence, which Fetis calls 
 'the cradle of modern music' Its principal represen- 
 tative is Francesco Landino, mentioned above. The 
 facts of his life are brief. He was born in Florence 
 about 1325, the son of a painter of some reputation. 
 Having lost his sight in his youth, he sought consola- 
 tion in the study of music. He learned to pl^y all 
 the instruments then in vogue and, it is said, even in- 
 vented others. But it was his ability on the organ 
 
 * F. J. F«is: Bist. Gin. de la Musique, V. 308. 
 
 t Joh. Wolf: Geschichte der Mensuralnotation von 1260-li50 (2 vols., 
 1904). 
 
 t C/. H. Biemann: Bandbuch der MustkgescMchte P, pp. 305 ffl. 
 
 263 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 that made him famous. In this he surpassed his con- 
 temporaries to such an extent that he was aptly styled 
 Francesco degli organi. The chief musicians of his 
 time united to bestow upon him a laurel wreath, with 
 which the king of Cyprus crowned him in Venice. He 
 died in his native city in 1390,. 
 
 What is true of his music applies in a great measure 
 to that of his contemporaries — those named above and 
 a number of others. The three principal forms into 
 which their compositions are cast are the caccia, the 
 ballata and the madrigal. The caccia is the one in- 
 digenous form of the three, being of truly Tuscan 
 origin. It is a canon for two voices, with or without 
 a third as bass foundation, which does not participate 
 in the canon (Uke the drone bass of 'Sumer is i-cumen 
 in'). As its name implies (caccia=chase) it is a hunt- 
 ing song, though later it is appUed to the humorous 
 description of a market scene. The ballata is clearly 
 derived from the dance songs of the troubadours. Its 
 form as cultivated by the Florentines shows at the be- 
 ginning a phrase whose text and melody serve as a 
 chorus refrain (ripresa) . This is followed by a middle 
 section which is repeated (piedi) over a different text; 
 then the opening section is again taken up with fresh 
 text as a volta, after which it is repeated as refrain. 
 Often there are a number of strophes {copla) which 
 are alike except for the texts of the piedi. 
 
 The madrigal, too, originated in Provence, being dcr 
 rived from the pastourelle. While the latter, however, 
 recounts amorous adventures with rural belles, the 
 madrigal poems of Dante and his successors have for 
 their subject the contemplation of the beauties of na- 
 ture, with a whimsical, philosophical or sentimental 
 conclusion. Its musical form is similar to the ballad 
 and rondeau; it is divided into two parts with re- 
 peats and its melodic phrases are usually not of 
 greater length than would be required for about five 
 
 264 
 
THE FLORENTINE ARS NOVA 
 
 text lines. We shall see later a new development of 
 the madrigal in the polyphonic a capella style, which 
 became significant for the development of opera; the 
 present form is, however, entirely monodic and ac- 
 companied. 
 
 Herein indeed lies the most remarkable feature of 
 these early forms of secular music; in that they pre- 
 sent a definitely thought-out combination of vocal and 
 instrumental music, whose existence at this period was 
 until recently unsuspected. But the latest research has 
 definitely shown that the doubtful melismatic figures 
 without words which precede and follow the indi- 
 vidual phrases are nothing but instrumental preludes, 
 interludes and postludes. Riemann * calls attention 
 to the surprisingly definite harmonic basis of these 
 songs; which seems far in advance of diaphony, faux- 
 bourdon and all the primitive forms of polyphony. 
 There is a remarkably varied combination of inter- 
 vals — octaves, sixths, fifths, thirds, also sevenths and 
 ninths used in the nature of passing notes or over a 
 pedal — ^foreshadowing the manner of a much later day. 
 Consecutive fifths and octaves occur rarely, and when 
 they do are used in a way which is not very objection- 
 able even to modern ears. A strictly modal character 
 is avoided by the frequent use of chromatics. 'In- 
 deed this Florentine "ars nova" of the fourteenth 
 century has no connection with the laborious attempts 
 of the Paris school. This is evident from the fact that 
 it does not build "motets" upon a tuneless tenor, or 
 construct rondeaux and "conducts" in the clumsy man- 
 ner of the organum, but that it appears with entirely 
 new fundamental forms, and with such a certainty 
 and natural freshness, that a theoretical process of 
 creation seems absolutely out of the question. No, 
 this Florentine New Art is a genuine, indigenous 
 flower of Italian genius. If we nevertheless insist upon 
 
 * H. Riemann: Op. clt, F, pp. 305 ff. 
 
 265 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 tracing its roots beyond the rich soil of Tuscan litera- 
 ture, we can only iBnd it in the troubadour poetry of 
 Provence.' * 
 
 According to our authority, there took place in the 
 second half of the fourteenth century an active ex- 
 change of the achievements between the Florentines 
 and the Paris school, in which France took from Italy 
 a greater rhythmic variety, while Italy gained from 
 France the manner of writing over a faux-bourdon 
 foundation, the result being a decided detriment to 
 the Florentine school, which lost much of its freedom 
 in the invention of independent voices, though it gained 
 in harmonic purity, while of course the consecutive oc- 
 taves and iifths naturally disappear entirely. Exam- 
 ples of madrigals, cacci, etc., of the Florentine school 
 may be examined in Johannes Wolf's Geschichte der 
 Mensuralnotation. A notable specimen by Giovanni da 
 Cascia is 'The White Peacock,' quoted by Riemann 
 (P). The cantori a liuto, who flourished probably 
 throughout the fifteenth century, performed, no doubt, 
 the compositions of these masters, no less than their 
 own inventions and the popular songs of the day, the 
 frottole, the canzone, villanesche and villanelle, which 
 resounded through the streets and the campagna of 
 Renaissance Italy. 
 
 II 
 
 The fifteenth century saw Italy well advanced toward 
 the state in which it has been compared to ancient 
 Greece. The work begun by Petrarch had made 
 mighty strides, the recovery of ancient learning and 
 ancient art had become the great passion of the age, 
 and the worship of beauty was the second, if not the 
 first, creed of a people but recently emerged from 
 the broils of civil war and settled down to a pros- 
 perous period, under a benevolent tyranny of which 
 
 * H. Riemann: Op cit., F, pp. 305 fS. 
 
 266 
 
THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 the rule of the Medici at Florence was the arch-type. 
 Learning and culture had become a badge of nobility 
 and the patronage of the arts an instrument of power. 
 That music shared in the boon which came to art is 
 unquestionable; a musical education was once again, 
 as in ancient Greece, an essential part of a gentleman's 
 equipment; poets and musicians shared the patronage 
 of princes, who themselves had no greater ambition 
 than to be accounted men of genius — in truth, Florence 
 had become the Athens of the modern world. 
 
 Cosimo de Medici returned from his Venetian exile 
 in 1434 and, once installed in power, we see him sur- 
 rounded by such men as Donatello, Brunelleschi, 
 Ghiberti and Luca della Robbia. Gemistos Plethos, 
 the Byzantine Greek, JBres his passion for Plato's 
 philosophy and Marsilio Ficino is trained under his 
 patronage to translate the works of the sage. Ves- 
 pasiano assures us of his versatility as follows : 'When 
 giving audience to a scholar, he discoursed concerning 
 letters; in the company of theologians he showed his 
 acquaintance with theology, . . . astrologers found 
 him well versed in their science, . . . musicians in 
 like manner perceived his mastery of music, wherein 
 he much delighted.' 
 
 Cosimo's grandson, Lorenzo the Magnificent (1449- 
 1492), far surpassed his grandsire in talent and cul- 
 ture. He was a writer of prose and poetry, gave the 
 impulse to the revival of a national literature, and 
 may be said to have raised popular poetry to the 
 dignity of an art, in writing new verses for the canzone 
 a hallo which the young men and girls sang and danced 
 upon the squares of Florence to celebrate the return 
 of May, and the canti carnascialeschi, the songs that 
 the Florentine populace sang, masked, at carnival 
 times. He organized for these occasions great pageants 
 in which he himself took part, engaging the best artists 
 for the embellishment of chariots and the designing 
 
 267 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of costumes, while he himself wrote songs appropriate 
 to the characters represented on the cars, causing new 
 musical- settings to be made by eminent composers. 
 'Every festivity,' says Symonds, 'May morning tourna- 
 ments, summer evening dances on the squares of Flor- 
 ence, weddings, carnival processions, and vintage ban- 
 quets at the villa, had their own lyrics with music and 
 the Carola.' 
 
 Lorenzo's famous academy constituted perhaps the 
 greatest intellectual galaxy of the age, for at his table 
 sat Angelo Poliziano, Cristoforo Landino, Marsilio Fi- 
 cino, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola, Leo Battista 
 Alberti, Michelangelo Buonarrotti, Luigi Pulci. Sur- 
 rounded by these companions we behold him in the 
 streets of Florence, not disdaining to perform his own 
 songs, in the midst of an approving populace, or, per- 
 chance, 'when Florence sleeps beside the silvery Arno 
 and the large Italian stars come forth above,' accom- 
 panied by a few kindred spirits, lute in hand, singing 
 the verses of a Dante or a Petrarch to the accompani- 
 ment of soft Italian zephyrs; or, again, in his villa 'on 
 the steep slope of that lofty hill crowned by the mother 
 city, the ancient Fiesole,' with Michael Angelo, 'seated 
 between Ficino and Politian, with the voices of 
 prophets vibrating in his memory and with the music 
 of Plato sounding in his ears . . . till Pulci breaks the 
 silence with a brand-new canto of Morgante, or a 
 singing boy is bidden to tune his mandoline to Messer 
 Angelo's last-made ballata.' * 
 
 To such gatherings of boon companions and to the 
 small domestic circle the cantori a liuto were finally 
 relegated, for, as we shall see, their usefulness had been 
 outlived. Such men as these were the perpetuators 
 of their art and the last, perhaps, to cultivate the 
 spontaneous monodies of their Florentine forbears, for 
 it is unthinkable that these worshippers of beauty, 
 
 * J. A. Symonds : 'Renaissance in Italy,' Vol. n. 
 
 268 
 
Altar of the Virgin 
 
 After the painting by Bellini (Venice Academy) 
 
THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 these aesthetic sentimentalists should have escaped 
 the charm of that school and have forgone it in favor 
 of that which followed. For meantime the musicians 
 of the Netherland school continued to spread their 
 propaganda in Italy, and so successfully, that their 
 contrapuntal works began to supersede the native 
 monodic style. 
 
 Their method had, indeed, undergone great improve- 
 ment: Josquin des Pres and his more expressive style 
 had achieved tremendous popularity throughout Eu- 
 rope.* Toward the end of the fifteenth century these 
 masters cultivated the secular forms more and more, 
 always, of course, in their wonted contrapuntal method. 
 They would frequently take the melody of a favorite 
 folk-song, use it as their tenor (the middle part) around 
 which they wove an artful counterpoint. In Germany 
 the 'harmonization' of popular melodies, or melodies 
 in the popular vein, had been going forward for some 
 time, and it is a noteworthy fact that Heinrich Isaac, 
 one of those most prominently engaged in this work, 
 was organist in Florence from 1484 to 1494 and again 
 after 1514. The style of writing adopted in these pop- 
 ular settings was a simple 'note against note,' which 
 emphasized chord progressions rather than melodic in- 
 tegrity. 
 
 Definite ideas of harmony were beginning to take 
 root about this time. Ramis de Pareja, the Spanish 
 theoretician, in 1482 had, by his new mathematical 
 definitions of the ratio of intervals, established the 
 consonant nature of the triad; Franchino Gafori and 
 Ludovico Fogliano (d. 1539) had insisted upon the 
 same principle. In 1558 Gioseffo Zarlino f gave to the 
 
 * During 1471 to 1488 Josquin was at the papal chapel in Rome. His 
 popularity there is illustrated by the following episode. When a motet 
 was performed in a distinguished social circle it passed almost without 
 notice until the hearers became aware that Josquin was its composer, 
 when all hands promptly proceeded to express their admiration of It. 
 
 tB. Chioggia (Venice), 1517; d. Venice, 1590; was a pupil of Willaert. 
 In 1565 succeeded Cipriano de Hore as maestro at St. Mark's. Most of his 
 
 269 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 world his Institutioni harmoniche, which, following 
 the Ptolomean determination of intervals, established 
 the natural relations of the tones of the major triad 
 {divisione armonica) and in the course of the century 
 his ideas of harmony became the common property 
 of musicians. With harmony as the predominating 
 principle of music, with Vertical' hearing rather than 
 'horizontal' as the prevailing habit, and the constantly 
 freer use of chromatics, the doom of ecclesiastical 
 modes was sounded, even if not fully accomplished till 
 later, and the real advent of modern music had been 
 reached. 
 
 The Italians, from early times as to-day primarily 
 and essentially melodists, never found great appeal in 
 the barbarous descant and counterpoint of the Nether- 
 landers. 'But they could not but perceive the charm 
 of harmony, once it had been cleansed of its dross, 
 when composers no longer worked for the eye of their 
 expert colleagues alone, but for the ears of the people 
 as well.' Hence polyphonic music was gradually ac- 
 cepted in the place of the native monodies which 
 had now lost caste, and it became fashionable to per- 
 form motets for the entertainment of one's guests. 
 However, the number of native singers able to per- 
 form this 'learned' music was insufficient to supply 
 even the churches outside of Rome, much less the 
 palaces of the aristocracy, until the increased influx of 
 Netherlanders as singers and teachers spread their 
 art among the musicians of Italy. During the sixteenth 
 century the simplification of notation made the art 
 of reading music accessible to the dilettanti, who now 
 
 compositions have been lost. His tlieoretical works were of the greatest 
 importance. Like M. Hauptmann later, he already recognized but one 
 kind of third, the major, and distinguishes the thirds of the major and 
 minor triad not by size but by position, upon which principle he based 
 the entire theory of harmony. Only the introduction of the thorough 
 . bass soon after, which reckoned all intervals from the bass up, pre- 
 vented a development of this rational theory. (Of. Rlemann: Gesch. der 
 Musiktheorie, pp. 369 ff.) 
 
 270 
 
ADRIAN WILLAERT AND THE MADRIGAL 
 
 formed musical coteries for the performance of poly- 
 phonic songs. Native composers busied themselves to 
 supply the demand and their products were spread 
 broadcast by enterprising publishers, for meantime, in 
 1476, the art of printing had been introduced in Rome.* 
 The first of these publishers was Ottaviano dei Petrucci, 
 who, though not its inventor, so advanced the art of 
 music printing as to render it a practical medium. His 
 office in Venice produced in 1501 a collection of ninety- 
 six songs written by various composers. Thus he 
 brought polyphonic music to the people and so caused 
 the old monodies of the lutenists and earlier masters 
 to pass still farther into oblivion. 
 
 Among the native products of Petrucci's press we 
 see a number of four-part songs of lighter genre called 
 frottole. This was a simple popular form akin to the 
 ballata and usually supposed to be of humorous con- 
 tent. The frottola was essentially a street song, orig- 
 inally sung to an improvised accompaniment, and did 
 not really belong to the a capella species. But in 
 Petrucci's collection (between 1504 and 1509 he pub- 
 lished nine books of frottole) they appear as poly- 
 phonic pieces in a manner of the timcf In this guise 
 they were stepping stones to a nobler form which was 
 to achieve immense popularity and, practised by the 
 more educated circles of amateurs, became the 'cham- 
 ber music' of the period. This was the madrigal or, 
 to be precise, the new madrigal, for though the old 
 
 * Cf. Chap. X, pp. 284 ff. 
 
 t The frottola 'stood midway between the strict and complicated 
 madrigal and the villotta or villanella, which was a mere harmonization 
 of a tune; and in fact as the use of counterpoint increased it disappeared, 
 its better element went Into the madrigal, its lower into the villanella.' — 
 Grove's 'Dictionary.' 
 
 'If we consider the frottole as contrapuntal exercises they appear 
 very meagre. If, however, we consider them as attempts to free the 
 cantabile melody, the declamatory rhythm which is analogous to the 
 verse metre, from the imitative web, and as an attempt to endow musical 
 pieces with architectural symmetry in the construction of its consecutive 
 <not simultaneous) elements they are significant phenomena.' — ^Ambros. 
 
 271 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 verses of Dante, Petrarch, etc., served as bases, its 
 musical structure had little to do with the earlier form 
 (see above, p. 264). 
 
 This, in fact, was the only excuse for adopting the 
 name madrigal for this new type of composition. Com- 
 posers were weary of the short forms with their 
 endless repetition of phrases and, recognizing the 
 superiority of the old classic poems both in sentiment 
 and structure, proceeded to apply to them their poly- 
 phonic skill. Like in the motet the setting was con- 
 tinuous (durchkomponiert), with or without reiteration 
 of musical ideas, but, unlike that stereotyped form, the 
 madrigal was the child of free invention throughout, 
 not a contrapuntal exercise upon a given cantus firmus. 
 The tenor was not more prominent than the other 
 voices; neither, on the other hand, was the treble a 
 real 'melody' in the modern sense, being the result 
 of simultaneous calculation. The madrigal was the 
 a capella composition par excellence and, as the secular 
 counterpart of the motet, became the standard form 
 in which the pure vocal style was developed. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Adrian Willaert (1480-1562), the founder of the so- 
 called Venetian school, whose activities as a church 
 composer we shall recount in the next chapter, is gen- 
 erally considered the father of the new madrigal. 
 Though others went before him, it was he who en- 
 dowed it with the freshness and vitality which made 
 its extraordinary vogue possible. Master Adrian, says 
 Ambros, 'found in the smaller frottole of a Marco Caro 
 and others many noble, serious expressions of senti- 
 ment. This colorit, this peculiar tone, he retained, to- 
 gether with the manner of treating Italian verse; but 
 in place of the timid, poor and often clumsy technique 
 
 272 
 
THE NEW MADRIGAL 
 
 of the Italians he applied to them the entire Netherland 
 mastery of accomplished counterpoint — and the mad- 
 rigal was ready. . . . The madrigal was to express 
 only the pure and the profound. The cor gentile was 
 the center of this poetry and music — the heart moved 
 by noble love, with its joys and pains, its love, hope, 
 longing, suffering and anger. The 'tone' of the mad- 
 rigal is ever one of tender emotion, never of vehement 
 passion. ... It should never burst out in unbeautiful, 
 violent expressions.' Analyzing one of his madrigals, 
 Riemann say that 'on the whole there is so much 
 originality, so much individual endeavor, that the lack 
 of flowering fancy and warm blood is willingly over- 
 looked. We fee^^s one does in the case of moderns, 
 for instance BeiSz, that we are in the presence of a 
 distinguished p^onality. . . . Willaert is great by 
 virtue of the various impulses that he gave, as teacher, 
 as eminent artist, but not really because of his composi- 
 tions. If we compare him to the passionate Verdelot, 
 the daring Arcadelt, the solemn Festa, the supple Gero, 
 or the genial Rore, commanding all the nuances of ex- 
 pression, any one of these will be found more telling, 
 but ... in all of the works of these, his pupils, we 
 find the traces of his genius.' Riemann has here 
 named the greatest of the madrigalists, some of whom 
 we must now consider further. They were all not 
 only learned contrapuntists, but consummate masters 
 of style, as is shown by the restraint with which they 
 applied their skill, and they have left us works 'which 
 for purity of style and graceful flow of melody can 
 scarcely be exceeded.' 
 
 Philippe Verdelot's madrigals appeared even before 
 those of Willaert (1538), but few have been preserved 
 with all parts complete. He probably lived in Italy 
 during 1525-1565 (Florence and Venice). His second 
 book of five-part madrigals appeared in 1536 and in 
 the same year Willaert published lute arrangements 
 
 273 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of Verdelot's madrigals. Besides nine books of mad- 
 rigals (four to six parts) he left motets for up to eight 
 parts and a large mass, Philomena. 
 
 But the success of his madrigals was even surpassed 
 by those of Jacques Arcadelt. A native of the Nether- 
 lands (b. 1514), the latter died in Paris after 1557. 
 He appears as singer at the court of Florence from 
 1540 to 1549, when he became one of the papal singers 
 of the Sistine Chapel in Rome and singing master to 
 the boys at St. Peter's. Besides compositions which 
 appeared in miscellaneous collections, he published 
 independently five books of four-part madrigals (1537- 
 1544), another for three parts, alLo^ which went rapidly 
 through many editions, besides th^e masses and a 
 book of motets. One of his madr^bls, '//ftia/ico et 
 dolce cigno, a notable example of the style, is reprinted 
 by Burney.* The well-known Ave Mag-ia, which has 
 been edited by Sir Henry Bishop and transcribed by 
 Liszt, is now thought to be of doubtful- authorship. 
 
 Constanzo Festa, of Rome (where he was papal 
 chapel singer from 1517 till his death in 1545), the 
 first Italian representative of the imitative vocal style 
 in church composition, is with Willaert and Verdelot 
 the originator of the new madrigal; his Amor che mi 
 consigli, published in 1531, even points to him as the 
 first in the field. His works are distinguished by 
 rhythm, grace, elegance, simplicity and purity of har- 
 mony. Burney further assures us that 'the subjects 
 of imitation in it are as modem, and that the parts 
 sing as well as if they were a production of the eight- 
 eenth century.' His madrigal Quando ritrovo la mia 
 pastorella ('Down in a Flow'ry Vale') was for a long 
 time the most popular piece of its kind in England. 
 He was less happy in his motets, in which he followed 
 the absurd custom of setting the voice to different 
 texts. A celebrated Te Deum by him is still sung by 
 
 * "History of Music,' m, 303. 
 
 274 
 
THE NEW MADRIGAL 
 
 the pontifical clioir upon tlie election of a new pope. 
 Festa attained the dignity of maestro at the Vatican, 
 being at that time the only Italian to hold such a 
 position. 
 
 The most distinguished pupil of Willaert was 
 Cipriano di Rore (b. ca. 1516 at Mechlin or Antwerp). 
 After leaving Willaert's tutelage in Venice he went to 
 the court of Hercules II at Ferrara in 1542, where, 
 in the same year, his first book of madrigals was 
 brought out. After sundry travels in his native coun- 
 try, he was made maestro di capella to Duke Ottavio 
 Farnese at Parma, returning to Venice as Willaert's 
 successor upon the latter's death. He enjoyed great 
 distinction as a composer of originality — of his ecclesi- 
 astical works we shall speak in Chapter X. As a com- 
 poser of madrigals and ricercari (see Chap. XI, p. 356) 
 he followed in his master's footsteps. Eight books of 
 four to five-part madrigals, published from 1542 to 
 1565, of which the four-part ones were issued in score 
 form in 1577 as an aid to the study of counterpoint, 
 constitute the bulk of his secular works. It will be 
 well to mention here that Monteverdi, a half century 
 later, acclaimed 'the divine Cipriano di Rore' as the 
 founder of the new art, because of his endeavors in 
 establishing the supremacy of melody.* 
 
 Luca Marenzio (b. near Brescia, 1550-1560) was prob- 
 ably the most distinguished of all the madrigalists, 
 though he by no means limited himself to this field. 
 His contemporaries called him il piu dolce cigna (the 
 sweetest swan), divino compositore, etc., and he en- 
 joyed the highest musical eminence. About 1584 he 
 was maestro to Cardinal d'Este, later at the court of 
 Sigismund III of Poland received the unusual salary 
 
 * The inscription Cromatici, a note nere on the title page of some of 
 di Rore's madrigals, which has been thought to indicate the chromatic na- 
 ture of these compositions, refers, as Riemann clearly shows (Handbuch der 
 Musikgeschichte IP.411), simply to the color of the notes, croma being a 
 current name for the eighth note since early times. 
 
 275 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of 1,000 scudi, and was organist of the papal chapel 
 in Rome from 1585 till his death in 1594, caused, it 
 was said, by a broken heart because of his love for a 
 relative of Cardinal Aldobrandini whom he could not 
 marry. His printed compositions comprise no less 
 than eighteen books of madrigals (4 to 6 voices) and 
 many ecclesiastical works. 
 
 Of further names we need only mention Constanzo 
 Porta, of Padua (1530-1601) ; Giovanni Croce, of Venice 
 (1557-1609) ; Andrea and Giovanni Gabrieli (of whom 
 we shall speak in a later chapter) ; Claudio Merulo, of 
 Correggio (1553-1604), and Carlo Gesualdo, Prince of 
 Venosa (1560-1614), 'the most daring and most genial 
 harmonist of the sixteenth century,', and finally the 
 princely Lassus and the great Palestrina himself, as a 
 few of the endless host of madrigal writers. Not thou- 
 sands, but tens of thousands of madrigals were com- 
 posed in this period; it was the accepted medium for 
 the expression of every poetic idea, every pretty senti- 
 ment. People sang madrigals at home and abroad, 
 in society and for private pastime; in short, its popu- 
 larity has not been surpassed even by the modern 
 song. 
 
 IV 
 
 A distinct departure from the madrigal of Willaert, 
 and one in which historians are wont to see a direct 
 step toward the opera, is seen in the descriptive, or 
 dramatic, madrigals of AUessandro Striggio (b. Man- 
 tua, 1535) and Orazio Vecchi. The descriptive element 
 had indeed invaded song composition much earlier. 
 The French 'program chansons,' notably those of 
 Cleinent Jannequin, who attempted to reproduce in 
 vocal music the song of birds and the noise of battle, 
 were, perhaps, the most remarkable phenomena of this 
 kind. Though not an Italian, Jannequin deserves 
 
 276 
 
THE DRAMATIC MADRIGAL 
 
 notice here because of his influence in this direction. 
 He was a pupil of Josquin and, besides a varied lot 
 of sacred works, issued a great number of chansons 
 which became popular as bravura pieces in instru- 
 mental form, being printed in Italy without texts in 
 1577 (partite in caselle per sonar). His great chansons 
 (inventions), which stamp him the programmistic 
 composer of the sixteenth century, include La hataille 
 (on the battle of Marignano [1515] ), La guerre, Le 
 caquet des femmes (women's gossip). La jalousie, La 
 chasse au lievre (rabbit hunt), etc., etc. A curious ex- 
 ample is the excerpt reprinted in our supplement. In it 
 the cuckoo's call, the nightingale's song, the notes of 
 the thrush and other sounds of nature's music are in- 
 troduced simultaneously.* 
 
 Verdelot's realistic description of the chase, Eck- 
 hard's tumult of the people at St. Mark's and Striggio's 
 dispute of the washerwomen at the brook are addi- 
 tional instances in which vocal music appropriated 
 the dramatic elements of action, movement — the pass- 
 ing shaped and the play of colors. In the hands of 
 these composers, the madrigal became a vehicle for 
 humorous or whimsical moods no less than for the 
 expression of tender sentiments, or 'a charming, pic- 
 turesque and dramatic symphony,' for which Romain 
 RoUand finds an analogy in the 'Romeo and Juliet' 
 symphony of Rerlioz. Such are Orazio Vecchi's La 
 selva di varia ricreatone (1590), 'Musical Ranquet' 
 (1597) and Amfiparnasso. They are in reality series 
 of madrigals which follow out a continuous idea as in 
 dramatic action, their text comprising the dramatic 
 forms of monologue and dialogue, but, curious as it 
 may seem, never set to music in the way that seems 
 natural to us — as solos, duets, etc. — ^but always in mad- 
 rigalesque polyphony. Thus, instead of having the 
 
 * Masikgeschichte in Belspielen. Excerpt, etc.. In Handbuch der Musik- 
 geschichte, n>. 407 ff. 
 
 277 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 singers represent the ditferent characters of the piece, 
 the actual practice was to have the monologue sec- 
 tions sung by all of them, while the dialogue would 
 be carried on between sets of two or three singers each. 
 For example, if Isabella (in Amfiparnasso) speaks to 
 her lover Lucio, a group of three voices represents 
 each of them; Isabella is characterized by a soprano 
 and supported by an alto and a 'quinto,' Lucio repre- 
 sented by a tenor sustained by a quinto and a bass. 
 Never did it occur to the composer, even when the text 
 was marked Lucio solo, actually to write for a solo 
 voice! By this we may understand what a revolu- 
 tion was necessary in men's minds to accomplish the 
 essential step to dramatic fidelity. 
 
 The following is Romain RoUand's pen picture of 
 the most interesting exponent of the dramatic mad- 
 rigal: 'Orazio Vecchi (b. Modena 1550; d. there 1605) 
 was a man of the Renaissance, He possessed its super- 
 abundance of vigor, the desire for action, and a robust 
 good humor. Chapel master at Modena, we find him 
 on the highways and by-ways of Italy, indoors only to 
 take part in brawls and coltellate. Commissioned as 
 archdeacon of Correggio to correct the Gradual of the 
 Roman Catholic church; he is occupied in 1591 with 
 directing private and public masquerades in Modena. 
 A writer of celebrated masses, he becomes at the same 
 time the creator of opera buffa. Three times the 
 Bishop of Reggio dismissed him from his function, but 
 his reputation was enormous — the house of Este and 
 the great Italian lords extended their favor to him, 
 while his name spread to Austria, to Denmark and to 
 Poland, At his death in 1605 he was regarded not only 
 as one of the foremost musicians of the century and 
 the inventor of musical comedy, but as one of the 
 greatest geniuses of the age,' Comedy is, indeed, his 
 sphere; rarely does he ascend to the height of pathos 
 or passion, though he amply proves himself capable of 
 
 278 
 
THE DRAMATIC MADRIGAL 
 
 portraying earnest sentiment and sometimes pathos; 
 but the question whether he merits the reputation of 
 having created comic opera or not we shall leave to 
 the judgment of the reader. 
 
 > First we shall let him speak for himself. T know 
 weU,' he says, 'that peradventure some will consider 
 my "caprices" as unworthy and light, but they should 
 learn that as much grace, art and fidelity is required 
 to trace a comic part as in representing an old reason- 
 ing sage.' And elsewhere, 'Music is poetry by the 
 same right as poetry itself.' That the conscious pur- 
 pose of his music was the expression: of ideas is evi- 
 dent from these directions which preface his Amfipar- 
 nasso: 'Everything here has a precise piu-pose; it is 
 necessary to find this, and only by expressing it well 
 and intelligently will you give life to the perform- 
 ance. . . . The moral import [of the piece] is of less 
 consequence than the simple comedy; since music ap- 
 peals to the emotions rather than the intellect, I have 
 been obliged to compress the development of the action 
 into the smallest space, for speech is more rapid than 
 song. Hence it is necessary to condense, contract, sup- 
 press detail and only to take the capital situations, the 
 moments characteristic to the subject. The imagina- 
 tion must supply the rest.' 
 
 Vecchi's disciple, Banchieri, gives a clear account 
 of the manner of performing these madrigals in the 
 preface to La comedia di prudenza giovenile: 'Be- 
 fore the music one of the singers will read in a loud 
 voice the name of the scene, the names of the char- 
 acters and the argument. The place of performance 
 is a room of medium size, as closed-in as possible (for 
 the sake of acoustics) ; in one corner of the room two 
 large carpets are laid on the floor and an agreeable 
 decoration is used for the background. Two seats are 
 placed at the right and left respectively. Behind the 
 "back-drop" are benches for the singers, who must 
 
 279 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 turn toward the audience and be seated at a hand's 
 breadth from each other. Behind them is an orchestra 
 of lutes, clavicemhali, etc., attuned to the voices. Above 
 is a large sheet which hides both singers and musicians. 
 The singers (invisible) follow the music of their parts; 
 there should be three (or better six) at a time. They 
 must give animation to the cheerful words, pathos to 
 the sad ones, and enunciate loudly and intelligibly. 
 The reciting actors (alone on the scene) must prepare 
 their roles, know them weU by heart and follow the 
 music closely. It would not be amiss to have a 
 prompter aid the singers, instriunentalists and re- 
 citers.' 
 
 These 'actors' do not, as may be supposed, perform 
 pantomime; they simply pronounce the prologue and 
 announce the scenes. At the end they would, perhaps, 
 dance a few ballet steps in order to leave the spectator 
 in a happy frame of mind. By way of example we 
 shall briefly recount the plot of Vecchi's chef-d'oeuvre, 
 that comedia armonica of the strangely inexplicable 
 title Amfiparnasso. The story centers around the love 
 intrigue of Lucio and Isabella, the daughter of Panta- 
 lone, who has determined to marry her to the pedantic 
 Gratiano. Lucio attempts to commit suicide but is 
 saved. Isabella, about to follow him into death, de- 
 clares her love. They are married and in the last 
 scene receive the forced consent and the presents of 
 all concerned. Meantime, Pantalone serenades and is 
 rejected by the courtesan Hortensia, Lelio pursues an- 
 other adventure with the beautiful Nisa, and the cap- 
 tain, Cardone, believing himself loved by Isabella, 
 makes advances and is promptly rebuked. Doctor 
 Gratiano sings absurd serenades while Francatrippa, 
 the valet of Pantalone, goes to borrow money at the 
 Jews' house, who reject him under pretext of the Sab- 
 bath. The book for this amazing comedy, as indeed 
 for all the others, was written by Vecchi himself. He 
 
 280 
 
THE DRAMATIC MADRIGAL 
 
 makes all his characters speak in their various dia- 
 lects and the 'score' is full of humorous descriptions 
 and characterizations. The piece had great success 
 and, while there were many adverse criticisms, the 
 nmnber of his imitators attests the continued popu- 
 larity of the form which he developed. 
 
 Adriano Banchieri of Bologna (1567-1634) was 
 Vecchi's chief disciple and one of his great admirers. 
 He frankly imitated him in his Studio dilettevole for 
 three voices (1603), while in his Saviezza giovenile he 
 yields to the influence of the Florentine reform (of 
 which later) and endeavors to present a compromise 
 between the 'representative' and the polyphonic styles. 
 He was, moreover, a musician of great merit, com- 
 posed, like Vecchi, numerous organ pieces and was 
 the author of a number of theoretic works and po- 
 lemics. The vogue of the dramatic madrigal con- 
 tinued throughout the north of Italy for twenty years 
 after Vecchi's death; in Bologna it survived to the end 
 of the seventeenth century. Whatever its importance 
 in the development of the opera, however far removed 
 from realistic action, the dramatic principle is there — 
 we have, in fact, a musical drama, or, at least, a dram- 
 atic symphony, especially if we regard the voices which 
 accompany the characters in the nature of instruments. 
 
 And here it behooves us to record another peculiar 
 fact: These minor voice parts were often actually 
 played on instruments, not only in the dramatic mad- 
 rigal, but in the other vocal forms as well; some- 
 times because of the lack of singers and sometimes 
 for the sake of variety. The first recorded instance 
 of this kind of solo singing was supposied to have oc- 
 curred in 1539 when Sileno sang in an intermedio the 
 upper part of a madrigal by Francesco Corteccia 
 (d. 1571), accompanying himself on the violone, while 
 the other parts, representing satyrs, were taken by 
 wind instruments. Caccini, the reputed inventor of 
 
 281 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 •monody,' in an intermezzo by Pietro Strozzi per- 
 formed at the marriage of Duke Francesco and Bianca 
 Capello (1579), himself sang the role of Night with an 
 accompaniment of viols. These instances are, how- 
 ever, not isolated. The experiment proved popular 
 and became common practice. A number of the frot- 
 tole, villanelle, madrigals, etc., which came from 
 Petrucci's press, appeared, indeed, in the guise of lute 
 arrangements.* 
 
 But all this was as far from true 'monody,' or solo 
 melody, as the dramatic madrigal was removed from 
 opera, for the mere emphasizing of an upper part, 
 which was developed out of, or as counterpart to, an- 
 other, could not make it express the sentiment intended 
 by the text or follow the accents and natural inflections 
 of the spoken word. Monody was as much a lost art 
 as the Greek tragedy, which the 'inventors' of opera 
 thought they were reviving from a slumber of well- 
 nigh two thousand years. Its reinstatement was the 
 result of a deliberate reform, a revolt against the pre- 
 vailing polyphonic method, accomplished by a limited 
 number of individuals. Even if the analytical his- 
 torian must reject the possibility of the sudden in- 
 vention of an artistic form, we cannot deny the merit 
 of the most definite step toward the creation of opera 
 to the Florentine camerata, an account of whose activi- 
 ties we shall reserve for a later chapter. Our object in 
 
 * That these vocal compositions were often performed entirely by 
 instrmnents is indicated by the direction which we meet frequently on 
 sixteenth century title pages: 'practical for all instruments.' The kind 
 of instruments was not indicated and the choice was left to the direction 
 of the performer. Not till the end of the century did musicians begin 
 to discriminate and to recognize the value of instrumental timbre. In the 
 intermezzi arrangements of madrigals, etc., were often performed by 
 many instruments, as for instance in those produced in 1565 by Strlggio 
 and Fr, Corteccia (d. 1571), who assembled an orchestra of 2 clavicembali, 
 4 violini, 1 liuto mezzano, 1 cometto muto, 4 tromboni, 1 flautl dirltti, 4 
 traverse, 1 liuto grosso, 1 sotto basso di viola, 1 soprano di viola, 4 lluti, 
 t viola d'arco, 1 llrone, 1 traverso contralto, 1 flauto grande tenore, 1 
 trombone basso, 5 storte, 1 stortina, 2 cometti ordinaril, 1 cometto grosso, 
 1 dolzaina, 1 lira, 1 ribecchino, 2 tamburi. 
 
 282 
 
THE DRAMATIC MADRIGAL 
 
 this discussion has been to emphasize the fact that 
 monody, the most natural form of musical expression, 
 was not an arbitrary invention such as the contrapuntal 
 style evidently was; that it lay, indeed, at the very 
 foundation of that style, but was so effectually dis- 
 placed by it that only the faintest memories of it sur- 
 vived. It was from these memories that the new art of 
 the seventeenth century, with its new dramatic signifi- 
 cance, sprang — ^just as the Ars nova, the new art of the 
 fifteenth century, had sprung from their soxu:ce. The 
 intervening space of two centuries was a period of 
 prodigious development both in secular and church 
 music, and of the most active exchange between the 
 two. But in this exchange the church unquestionably 
 remained the debtor, for it acquired from the secular 
 art most of its really vital elements, even dramatic 
 force. Only thus could it become the ideal expression 
 of that new religious spirit with which both the Catho- 
 lic and Protestant faiths were to be imbued. The 
 development of this religious art, which forms the par- 
 allel to the movements just described, is our next stib- 
 ject. 
 
 C,S. 
 
 283 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 THE GOLDEN AGE OF POLYPHONY 
 
 Invention of music printing— The Reformation— The immediate suc- 
 cessors of Josquin; Adrian Willaert and the Venetian school; Germany and 
 England— Orlando di Lasso — Palestrina; his life— The Palestrina style; the 
 culmination of vocal polyphony — Conclusion. 
 
 The deep vital forces which had for two hundred 
 years been urging Italy to magnificent achievement 
 broke through into music during the course of the six- 
 teenth century. Music was, as she has always been, 
 the last to respond to a general movement; but the re- 
 sponse, when it came, entailed an entire reconstruction 
 of the art. All through the century the process of re- 
 construction was active. It was, however, gradual in 
 its working. Only toward the very end of the cen- 
 tury a few bold explorers and experimenters turned 
 their backs upon the past, cut loose from the old art 
 of music and started in to build with new stone and 
 new tools a new art. We have to do in this chapter 
 with the old art; on the one hand, with influences 
 which boldly altered it, and with new developments 
 which were set free through these alterations; on the 
 other, with its ultimate perfection and consequent end. 
 
 The invention of music-printing just before the be- 
 ginning of the century had a powerful influence upon 
 the development of music. The beautiful manuscripts 
 in which early music has been preserved to us were 
 the work for the most part of monks, and are another 
 evidence of the restriction of music to the church. 
 
 284 
 
INVENTION OF MUSIC PRINTING 
 
 With the invention of printing came a liberation from 
 this restraint. Music circulated through the lay so- 
 ciety — all kinds of music, both secular and sacred — 
 it stepped from the dim vast cathedrals and went 
 among the people and entered into their homes and 
 into their lives. The world of men and women wel- 
 comed it and changed it, formed it to the expression 
 of their joys and sorrows. The superhuman intricacies 
 of counterpoint and canon little by little withered and 
 fell by the way. 
 
 Ulrich Han, of Ingolstadt, in 1476 solved the prob- 
 lem of printing music by means of movable types, 
 but his invention seems to have languished until other 
 enterprising men took it up. In Italy this was done 
 by Ottaviano dei Petrucci, born in 1466 at Fossom- 
 brone, near Ancona. Petrucci, one of the first monopo- 
 lists in the business of printing music, was, like Aldus 
 Manutius, a man of good birth and fortune. Some time 
 before 1498 he had established himself at Venice, and 
 obtained from the municipal council the sole privilege, 
 for twenty years, of printing figured music (canto fig- 
 urato), and music in the tablature of the organ and 
 lute. This meant that, so far as Venice was concerned, 
 all the published lamentations, frottole, motets, and 
 masses were to issue from Petrucci's press. 
 
 His first publication in 1501 was a collection of 
 ninety-six pieces, most of them written for three or 
 four voices, by Okeghem, Hobrecht, Josquin, Isaak, and 
 others. The printing was done by a double process: 
 first the staff, then the notes, in a small quarto, with 
 fine black ink. The parts stood opposite one another 
 on the open page, thus: 
 
 soprano I tenor 
 
 alto I bass 
 
 The registry or 'fit' of the notes was perfect, and the 
 effect of the whole was admirable. 
 
 285 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 This expensive double process, however, was super- 
 seded about five years later by another, simpler one, 
 involving only one impression. In 1511 Petrucci left 
 his plant at Venice in the hands of others and re- 
 turned to Fossombrone. Two years later he' obtained 
 a patent from Pope Leo X for all the printing in the 
 papal states for a period of fifteen years. Petrucci's 
 last publication, a collection of eighty-three motets, is 
 dated 1523. His works are rare and highly valued as 
 antique specimens of printing, and the man himself is 
 also remembered for the standards of neatness and pre- 
 cision which he established. 
 
 Pierre Attaignant is said to be the first to introduce 
 music printing by means of movable types into 
 France. In the nine years from 1527 to 1533 Attaignant 
 printed nineteen books of motets of various French 
 and foreign masters. These prints are also very rare 
 and historically important. His work was still going 
 on in 1543, but it seems that the famous Ballards were 
 soon to take it up. The names not only of printers, 
 but of the engravers and founders of these first music 
 types are justly preserved. Pierre Hautin was engraver 
 for Attaignant, and Etienne Briard a founder at Avi- 
 gnon. Briard furnished the first known specimens of 
 round notes, in place of the usual quadrangular shapes, 
 and these were used for the first time in printing the 
 works of Carpentras in 1532. This, however, was an 
 exception, as the round notes were not generally intro- 
 duced into print until about the year 1700. Le Be was 
 another well-known type founder. His types were of 
 the sort which printed notes and lines simultaneously. 
 Each individual type contained a note and a portion 
 of the staff; but later Le Be adopted Petrucci's method 
 of double impressions. 
 
 Adrian Leroy, a lute player, singer, and composer, 
 appears as the next printer of renown in Paris after 
 Attaignant. Leroy presently joined forces with an- 
 
 286 
 
THE REFORMATION 
 
 other follower of the craft named Ballard— incidentally 
 marrying the daughter of the house— and in 1552 the 
 firm obtained a patent as sole printers of music for 
 King Henry II of France. This patent, frequently re- 
 newed, remained in the Ballard family until it was 
 abolished by the French Revolution, more than two 
 hundred years later; and the types of Le Be, printing 
 both notes and lines at once, purchased by Pierre Bal- 
 lard in 1540 for fifty thousand livres, were still in use 
 in 1750. One cannot help suspecting that these types, 
 excellent as they must have been, grew old-fashioned 
 long before they were laid aside. But monopoly has 
 its uses. There was no one to compete on equal terms 
 with the distinguished and influential Ballards; so there 
 was no use to them in making expensive changes in 
 type. 
 
 For more than two centuries, then, the Ballard fam- 
 ily held an important place as printers of music in 
 France. The famous Orlando di Lasso visited them; 
 LuUy's operas were printed by them, first from mov- 
 able types, later from copper plates. In the early days 
 of the firm Leroy himself wrote an instruction book 
 for the lute, which was translated into English in two 
 different versions — one by a writer named F. K. Gentle- 
 m^an. Leroy also wrote an instruction book for the 
 'guiterne' (guitar) and a book of airs de cour for the 
 lute, in the dedication of which he said that such airs 
 were formerly known as voix de ville. In England 
 Thomas Tallis and his pupil, William Byrd, obtained 
 in 1575 a monopoly for twenty years of all music 
 printing done in the realm. 
 
 II 
 
 The invention of printing meant, as we have said, 
 that music was no longer centralized about the church. 
 
 287 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Yet it has to be granted that one of the greatest im- 
 pulses music has ever received came to it in the early 
 sixteenth century from a new religion; an impulse 
 which, destined to be checked for a while, though not 
 killed, by the horrors of religious warfare in the next 
 century, was to gain thereafter ever more and more 
 strength and lead at last to truly magnificent heights 
 in the work of Johann Sebastian Bach. The new reli- 
 gious movement to which we refer was the Protestant 
 Reformation under the leadership of Martin Luther. 
 We have said consciously that music received there- 
 by a new impulse. To hold that music was entirely 
 reconstructed by Luther, that he discarded all the 
 forms and technique of music that had been up to 
 that time developed in the art, is quite as mistaken as 
 to hold that he wholly discarded the Roman ritual and 
 built up a new and independent service. The change 
 which the Reformation brought to music was like the 
 change it brought to the service, far more one of spirit 
 than one of form. Luther's reform was essentially to 
 abolish the mediation of the priesthood, to clear from 
 the service in so far as possible all that might stand 
 between the worshipper and his God, to give freedom 
 to the intimate personal communion between God and 
 man which the northerner naturally feels and prac- 
 tises. In this respect Luther's reform would theoreti- 
 cally restore all music in the service to the congregation. 
 But Luther was dearly fond of music, of, so to speak, 
 the best mifsic. His favorite composers were Josquin 
 des Pres and Ludwig Senfl, both contrapuntists of enor- 
 mous skill. Their music was a worthy adornment of 
 the service. 'I am not of the opinion,' he said, 'that on 
 account of the Gospel all the arts should be crushed 
 out of existence as some over-religious people pretend; 
 but I would willingly see all the arts, especially music, 
 in the service of him who has created and given them.' 
 Congregational singing is anything but an art; often, 
 
 288 
 
THE REFORMATION 
 
 indeed, is hardly music. Luther had no intention to 
 dismiss trained choirs from the churches and give 
 over all the music of the service to the untrained mass 
 of worshippers. The trained choir therefore was re- 
 tained in all the Lutheran churches, which could afford 
 to pay for one, and music for these choirs — that is, ar- 
 tistic music, often music written by Catholic composers 
 in complicated contrapuntal style — held an honored 
 place in the Lutheran ritual. 
 
 The personal intimate spirit from which the reform 
 drew life, however, found an expression in music. To 
 the congregation was allotted a greater or less portion 
 of song. It will be remembered that the early Chris- 
 tians sang together and that not until the seventh cen- 
 tury was the privilege taken from them and restricted 
 only to a trained choir. The German people, as a mat- 
 ter of fact, seem never to have quite given up their 
 share in the musical part of the service. At sonie of 
 the great festival services they joined in the Kyrie and 
 in the Alleluia, and very early it became the custom 
 to insert German verses in the liturgy at these places. 
 Thus there developed a literature of German hymns, 
 sometimes partly German and partly Latin, as the fol-, 
 lowing old Easter hymn, obviously interpolated in the 
 
 Kyrie: 
 
 'Christ ist erstanden 
 
 Von der Marter alle. 
 
 Des sollen wir alle froh sein, 
 
 Christ soil unser Trost sein, 
 
 Kyrioleis. 
 
 Hallelujah, Hallelujah, Hallelujah! 
 Des sollen wir alle froh sein, 
 Christ soil unser Trost sein, 
 Kyrioleis.' 
 
 In connection with the mystery plays other hymns 
 were written, such as the following cradle-song, part 
 German, part Latin and part nonsense: 
 
 289 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 'In dulci jubilo 
 
 Nun singet und -sei froh. 
 
 Unser's Herzens Wonne 
 
 Liegt in prsesipio, 
 
 Und leuchtet als die Sonne. 
 
 Matris in gremio. 
 
 Alpha et O. Alpha et O.' 
 
 About these hymns there was woven a sort of re- 
 ligious folk music. By the time of the Reformation 
 there was a whole literature to draw from and Luther 
 needed only to organize and standardize many of the 
 hymns which had been familiar to the people for gen- 
 erations. To these he added others of his own writing. 
 The music was drawn from all sources, practically 
 none was especially composed. Luther had to aid him 
 in compiling his hymn-book two famous musicians, 
 Konrad Rupff and Johann Walther. In 1524 these two 
 men were his guests for a period of three weeks. Kost- 
 lin * writes : 'While Walther and Rupff sat at the table 
 bending over the music sheets with pen in hand. Father 
 Luther walked up and down the room, trying on his fife 
 to ally the melodies that flowed from his memory and 
 his imagination with the poems he had discovered, 
 until he had made the verse melody a rhythmically fin- 
 ished, well-rounded, strong, and compact whole.' Here 
 we have a picture of the German hymn-tune, later 
 called the chorale, in the process of crystallization. 
 
 'The Devil does not need all the good tunes for him- 
 self,' Luther wisely remarked, and he drew from all 
 sources, secular and sacred, for his melodies. The 
 same breadth of choice was likewise exercised by his 
 followers throughout the century: a song sung by the 
 footsoldiers at the battle of Pavia became the Durch 
 Adam's Fall ist ganz verderbt; the chorale melody 
 Von Gott will ich nicht lassen, can be traced to an old 
 love song, Einmal tat ich Spazieren; a love song, 
 
 * Luther als Vater des evangelischen Kirchenliedes, 
 
 290 
 
THE REFORMATION 
 
 Mein G'miit ist mir verwirret von einer Jungfrau zart, 
 by Hans Leo Hassler, became the choral melody to the 
 funeral-hymn Herzlich that mich verlaitgen, and later 
 the same melody was set to Paul Gerhardt's hymn, O 
 Haupt voll Blut und Wunden, and in that form holds 
 a leading part in Rach's St. Matthew Passion. Nor 
 were the chorale tunes taken from Germany alone. 
 Favorite part-songs of Italy and France were appro- 
 priated and set to German words. 
 
 The hymn-book compiled by Luther with the help of 
 Rupff and Walther was published in Wittenburg in 
 1524. It was intended for church use, and that the 
 compilers had the choir, not the congregation, in mind 
 is proved by the fact that all the tunes are contra- 
 puntally set, with the melody as cantus firmus in the 
 tenor, that is to say, in the middle of the music, not 
 soaring triumphantly aloft majestically to guide the 
 congregation. We have, therefore, in these chorales of 
 Luther not a new form but a new spirit. How great 
 a part the congregation ever actually took in them is 
 open to discussion. Doubtless in those churches where 
 there was no skilled choir, congregational singing 
 played an important role; but it seems likely that in 
 those churches where there was such a choir, congrega- 
 tional singing was kept as much in the background 
 as possible; In 1586 Lukas Osiander published a set 
 of fifty chorales, 'set contrapuntally in such a way that 
 the whole Christian congregation can always join in 
 them.' This was obviously a kind attempt to bring 
 the more or less neglected congregation into the musi- 
 cal part of the service. In Osiander's arrangements 
 the melody is in the soprano. Rut the setting is still 
 too intricate for general use and the same rather con- 
 descending, yet still lofty, attitude toward the congre- 
 gation is characteristic of all composers down to the 
 time of Rach. 
 
 The question of just how the congregation sang 
 
 291 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 those chorales allotted to them is also in doubt. It 
 is hardly possible that in the first half of the sixteenth 
 century the organ accompanied them. The organ was 
 still far too imperfect to attempt polyphonic playing 
 such as would afford a harmonic support to the singers, 
 who, we may presume, sang only in unison. It is more 
 likely that the organ and the congregation alternated, 
 or that the choir and the congregation sang in turn. 
 Toward the end of the century attempts were made 
 to have the choir lead the congregation, and then later, 
 in the course of time, the organ was perfected and 
 was used for accompaniment, coming soon to drown 
 out the choir, which had little chance to maintain a 
 leadership over the mass of singers on the one hand 
 and the organ on the other. Thus the organ finally 
 took the leadership. In its new position it no longer 
 alternated with the congregation, and the skill which 
 organists had had an opportunity to show in the solo 
 passages, alternating, in the old days, with the congre- 
 gation, was now concentrated upon the prelude. In 
 this way the foundation for a characteristically Ger- 
 man art-form in organ music, the chorale-prelude, was 
 laid. 
 
 Though .Luther was too much of a musician to be 
 willing to give over the music of the service to be mis- 
 handled by a crowd of untrained singers, he none the 
 less intended his chorale melodies to enter into the 
 lives of the German Protestants. Thus, while, on the 
 one hand, we have Luther's own book and subsequent 
 books in the same contrapuntal style, on the other, we 
 have hymn-books in which only the melody was writ- 
 ten and which carried the noble old tunes to every 
 hearth and home throughout Protestant Germany. The 
 first 'house' hymn-book appeared a short while before 
 Luther's church book. It was compiled by Luther's 
 friend, Justus Jonas, and was called the Erfurt Enchi- 
 ridion. Among the hymns contained in it were two old 
 
 292 
 
THE REFORMATION 
 
 Latin hymns, already mentioned in Chapter V, the 
 Veni redemptor gentium, by St. Ambrose, and the 
 Media in vita, by Notker Balbulus, both, of course, 
 done into German. An interesting collection was pub- 
 lished in Frankfurt in 1571 with the preface: 'Street 
 songs, cavalier songs, and mountain songs transformed 
 into Christian and moral songs, for the abolishing, in 
 the course of time, of the bad and vexatious practice 
 of singing idle and shameful songs in the streets, in 
 fields, and at home, by substituting for them good 
 sacred and honest words.' The chorale melodies, in- 
 deed, became the property of the Germans. They were 
 colored with the sentiment of a whole race; they took 
 on a nobility and a dignity, they seemed to germinate 
 new life, and, finally, they became the glory of a lofty 
 art, based on the skill of the Netherlanders, modified 
 and adorned according to a new style soon to be per- 
 fected by the Italians, and infused with rich, warm 
 hfe flowing from the very hearts of the German people. 
 The Protestant Reformation did not, then, at once 
 alter the form of church music in Germany. Other 
 influences, sprung from Catholic Italy, were to be far 
 more powerful in that respect. Even the tendency 
 toward harmonic writing, toward emphasizing the 
 progression of chords rather than the intei-weaving of 
 melodies, which the chorale melodies undoubtedly 
 furthered, was a tendency very evident in Italian 
 church music of the time, notably at "Venice, was in- 
 deed a mark of the time. The true significance of the 
 Lutheran reform in the history of music is that it laid 
 music open to a flood of genuine strong feeling, per- 
 sonal, intimate, intensely human feeling, which little 
 by little during the next two centuries, in spite of the 
 horror and agony of persecution and warfare, per- 
 meated every vein and artery of music, and filled them 
 with vital warmth and glowing color. During the 
 Thirty Years' War only the hymn and the chorale 
 
 293 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 melody escaped destruction in Germany, and these 
 survived because they were actually a part of the peo- 
 ple and could cease to exist only when the race had 
 been stamped out. 
 
 In France and in England the Protestant movement 
 had far less influence upon music than in Germany. 
 In France this seems to be explained by the fact that 
 the French had not, like the Germans, a literature of 
 native hymns, but had to construct their hymnbook 
 from the Psalter, and that they had a more slender 
 stock of genuine folk-song to draw upon. Zwingli, the 
 leader of the Swiss Reformation, which was to win the 
 support of the Frenchman Calvin, was not in favor of 
 music, and his followers were ruthless in their destruc- 
 tion of organs and collections of music. Calvin, on 
 the other hand, had in regard to music more the point 
 of view of Luther. He drew freely from the Lutheran 
 hymn-books both melodies and words, but especially 
 in favor of metrical versions of the Psalms. These 
 were set to music often excellent and finely harmon- 
 ized. Among the Calvinistic psalm writers Clement 
 Marot is most famous. It was he who, as court poet 
 to Francis I, made several versions of the Psalms into 
 the style of ballads, which won great popularity by 
 their novelty and were set to gay tunes and sung by 
 the people at court. Subsequently, in forced exile at 
 Geneva, he added nineteen more to the collection of 
 thirty he had already written, and these were later 
 supplemented and arranged in final form by Theodore 
 de Reza. Most conspicuous among the musicians con- 
 nected with the movement in France were Loys Bour- 
 geois and Claude Goudimel. The latter may have 
 been a Netherlander and a pupil of Josquin. He was 
 killed in the massacre of St. Bartholomew in Lyons 
 (1572). Bourgeois composed many melodies himself 
 to the Calvinistic hymns and set them more or less 
 simply in four parts. Goudimel, on the other hand, 
 
 294 
 
THE SUCCESSORS OF JOSQUIN 
 
 composed elaborate settings in the style of motets with 
 the melody, seldom his own, in the tenor. 
 
 The English, like the French, relied upon metrical 
 versions of the Psalms for their hymn-books. Further- 
 more, the beginning of the Reformation in England 
 was complicated with poUtical motives and the move- 
 ment was, for a long time, simply a break from the 
 Church of Rome rather than an outburst of religious 
 convictions. Yet after the suppression of monasteries 
 between 1536 and 1540 there was something of the same 
 destruction of organs and music which had wrought 
 such havoc in Switzerland, and a general condemna- 
 tion of elaborate church service. The first attempt at 
 hymn tunes was the Goostlie Psalmes of Coverdale, 
 drawn largely from Lutheran sources. Under Edward 
 VI (1547-1553) began the organization of the Anglican 
 Church and the drafting of liturgies in English. The 
 movement was checked by the reign of Mary, but under 
 Elizabeth resulted in a standard ritual which called 
 forth the best musical genius of the country. An elab- 
 orate setting of the canticles, etc., used in morning and 
 evening prayer was encouraged and a new art-form, 
 the musical flower of the English Reformation, the an- 
 them, resulted from the setting of the variable portions 
 of these services. 
 
 m 
 
 The great spirit of the Italian Renaissance, which 
 was essentially a spirit of freedom and joy in indi- 
 viduality, thus took shape in Germany, England, and 
 France, and laid a hand upon music as it had already 
 done in Italy. On every hand it scatters its seeds, which 
 will take root and later flower. Elements of form and 
 design, rich chromatic alterations of harmony, splen- 
 did dramatic effects of answering double choirs are 
 woven into the intricate web of Netherland polyphonic 
 
 295 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 music, touching it with color and fire, making it fertile 
 with new and vast developments. But all is gradual; 
 the art grows slowly and only slowly changes. Amid 
 the turbulent restlessness, the experiment and daring, 
 the old ideal, the ideal of the monasteries and the great 
 cathedrals, still awaits perfection — the touch of Lassus 
 and of Palestrina. 
 
 We have seen that Petrucci's first publication of 
 1501 contained ninety-six pieces, most of which were 
 by Okeghem, Hobrecht, Josquin, Isaak, and others, 
 such as Ghiselin, La Rue, Alex. Agricola, Brumel, 
 Craen, by far the most part Netherlanders. This was 
 in Venice. We need no further evidence of the popu- 
 larity of the Netherland art in Italy. The Netherland 
 style had become by this time the standard style of 
 Europe; and during the first quarter of the sixteenth 
 century Netherlanders still held sway over the de- 
 velopment of music. There were pupils of Josquin in 
 the Netherlands, in France, in Spain, in Italy, and in 
 Germany. His music flowed over the face of Europe 
 and his art penetrated to aU the courts and into all 
 the cathedrals. And upon all his pupils the spirit of 
 the Renaissance was at work. Thousands of madri- 
 gals, of love songs, drinking songs, and hunting songs 
 came crowding from their pens and jostled masses and 
 motets in confusion. Program music was in the air, 
 songs of battle, songs of gossiping women, of birds, of 
 shepherds and of shepherdesses. It is hardly surpris- 
 ing that music for the church began to take on colors 
 more and more brilliant. It is more surprising that 
 the old ideal of exalted polyphony still endm-ed and 
 still called men to its standard. 
 
 Some of the pupils of Josquin are worthy of sepa- 
 rate mention. Perhaps the most distinguished of them 
 was Nicolas Gombert. He was a Netherlander by birth. 
 We find him in the service of the sovereign of the 
 Netherlands, later in the royal chapel at Brussels. In 
 
 296 
 
WILLAERT AND THE VENETIAN SCHOOL 
 
 1530 he was master of the boys at the imperial chapel 
 in Madrid, and afterward probably first master in the 
 same chapel. In 1556 he was back in his own country 
 again, where, a few years after, he died. A large 
 number of his works, from special editions of the 
 sixteenth century, have come down to us, and some of 
 his manuscripts, like so many other treasures of this 
 period, are in the Munich library. His work for the 
 church is characterized by a gentle, harmonious 
 beauty, and Fetis called him the predecessor of Pales- 
 trina, especially on account of a beautiful Pater noster, 
 which is marked by a lofty religious sentiment. He 
 was very successful as a composer of motets, and, in 
 his secular works, showed a tendency toward tone- 
 color effects — ^program music — especially in his chan- 
 sons, Le berger et la bergere, and Le chant des oiseaux. 
 
 Benedictus Ducis, another Netherlander and pupil 
 of Josquin, born at Bruges in 1480, was distinguished 
 by the musical brotherhood of Antwerp by being 
 elected Prince of the Guild — the highest honor an 
 artist could achieve at that time in the Netherlands. 
 Leaving Antwerp in 1515 he appears to have visited 
 Henry the Eighth of England, and later to have been 
 in Germany. There is some diflBculty in distinguish- 
 ing the works of Ducis from those of Benedictus Ap- 
 penzelder, owing to the peculiar custom of the time 
 of signing manuscripts only with the Christian name. 
 It is generally conceded, however, that Ducis composed 
 a funeral ode on the death of his master Josquin, also 
 a motet for eight parts, Peccantem me quotidie, pas- 
 sion music and settings of the Psalms, the earnestness 
 and nobility of which justify his fame. 
 
 Jean Mouton, another pupil, was born probably 
 near Metz, in Lorraine, became chapel singer to Louis 
 XII and Francis I of France, then canon of Therou- 
 anne and afterward of St. Quentin. His works show 
 him to be a master of counterpoint and a worthy pupil 
 
 297 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of Josquin. Petrucci printed five of his masses in 
 1508, and later more than twenty of his motets; and 
 Attaignant included his compositions in the third book 
 of a famous collection of masses published in 1532, 
 and also in a collection of motets which appeared 
 somewhat earlier. A few masses in manuscript are 
 in the Munich library. A large number of his motets 
 have been preserved, justly valued for their artis- 
 tic and effective qualities, which in some instances 
 closely resemble those of his master. His pupil, Adrian 
 Willaert, was one of the most gifted and one of the 
 most influential composers of the next generation. He 
 may be regarded as the founder of the Venetian school 
 of composers, who played such a brilliant part in the 
 history of music during the sixteenth century, who 
 were experimenters and innovators, whose energy 
 opened many a new channel to the course of music. 
 The influence of Josquin thus passed to Venice. 
 
 Adrian Willaert, born probably in 1490 at Roulers, 
 in Relgium, first studied law in Paris. Afterward he 
 adopted music as his profession and became a pupil 
 of Jean Mouton. In 1516 we find him travelling in 
 Italy, visiting Rome, Venice, and Ferrara. There is 
 a story to the effect that in Rome he heard a motet 
 of his, the Verbum dulce et suave, sung by the papal 
 choir, whose members believed it to have been written 
 by Josquin; and that they refused to sing it again when 
 they discovered it to be by an unknown composer. If 
 this story be true, it may be added here that Willaert 
 lived to see the day when his compositions were con- 
 sidered entirely worthy of attention, even from the 
 most distinguished body of singers in Christendom. 
 
 That time was not yet come, however. Willaert left 
 Italy, taking service as chapel master to King Ludwig 
 11, ruler of Hungary and Bavaria; but in 1526 he was 
 back again in Venice, where, in the following year, 
 he received the appointment as first chapel master of 
 
 298 
 
WILLAERT AND THE VENETIAN SCHOOL 
 
 the Basilica of St. Mark, at a salary of seventy ducats, 
 about one hundred and sixty dollars. This was later 
 increased to two hundred ducats, about four hundred 
 and sixty dollars, which was considered a princely in- 
 come. For thirty-five years the master kept at his post, 
 although twice during that time, once in 1542 and again 
 in 1556, a longing for his native country drew him 
 back to Belgium. It was his hope, indeed, to spend 
 his last years in Bruges; but he had taken root too 
 firmly in Italy. Friends, admirers, and patrons urged 
 him to remain in Venice, and it was there, in 1562, that 
 he died. 
 
 The Basilica of St. Mark was already ancient when 
 Willaert came to Venice. Founded in 830 to receive 
 the relics of the second Evangelist brought from Alex- 
 andria, rebuilt a hundred and fifty years later, it had 
 received its permanent form about the middle of the 
 eleventh century. Five hundred years had but in- 
 creased its beauty and added mellowness and historic 
 interest to its charm. Externally, its domes and pin- 
 nacles, its encrusted marbles and pillars, its bronze 
 horses and many-colored arches constitute a unique 
 and splendid monument of history. Within its walls, 
 statues, columns crowned with capitals from Greece 
 and Byzantium, and rich mosaics blend in a beauty 
 at once impressive and magnificent. The interior is 
 not large, two hundred and five by one hundred and 
 sixty-four feet; but it is particularly well adapted to 
 the use of the two organs, which are placed opposite 
 each other. 
 
 This circumstance suggested to Willaert the device 
 of dividing his choir so as to contrast the mass effect 
 of the united voices with antiphonal singing. With 
 this device, happily carried into effect, there developed 
 in time, under Willaert's hands, a new style of compo- 
 sition for two choirs. It was this.iStyle which continued 
 in vogue for more than a century and formed the 
 
 299 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 standard and became the peculiar characteristic of the 
 Venetian school. 
 
 In his early experiments with the divided choir Wil- 
 laert made use of the Psalms, whose poetical form, 
 with the parallel half-verses and refrains, seemed es- 
 pecially adapted to antiphonal rendering. Following 
 these, he composed hymns and masses, not after the 
 manner of the eight or ten-part compositions known in 
 the Netherlands, but works specially adapted to the 
 double choir, each part complete in itself, each combin- 
 ing with or opposing the other, and yet creating an 
 impression of unity and centralization. This was actu- 
 ally a new artistic creation, and by reason of it Wil- 
 laert became almost the idol of the Venetians. They 
 called his lovely music 'liquid gold,' adapted his name 
 to 'Messer Adriano,' honored him with verses and pub- 
 lic addresses, and, in his old age, besought him to 
 leave his ashes to the city in which his artistic triumphs 
 had been achieved. 
 
 Willaert's experiments with double choir effects had 
 a profound and lasting influence upon the develop- 
 ment of music. In the first place, owing to this, de- 
 vices of imitation and canonic progression which had 
 so long been the most prominent feature of ecclesiasti- 
 cal and secular music, became secondary in importance 
 to chord progressions. The reason is obvious. To get 
 the best effect with two answering choirs the sections 
 which each sings must not be long and complicated, 
 but relatively short and clear cut, otherwise the effect 
 of balance or of echo is lost; and in these relatively 
 short sections there is hardly time to accomplish elab- 
 orate polyphonic development. Even if there were, 
 the polyphonic effects are far too subtle to be easily 
 recognized in echo or answer. The tendency in writing 
 music for two choirs was therefore toward a simple 
 style, clearly balanced, with certain definite harmonic 
 relationships which could not fail to be recognized 
 
 300 
 
WILLAERT AND THE VENETIAN SCHOOL 
 
 when repeated. The composers of the Venetian school 
 were abnost within reach of the harmonic idea of 
 music, which rose clearly to supremacy only late in 
 the next century. They were actually breaking away 
 from the ecclesiastical modes, not only by thus trying 
 to write in a simple harmonic style, which was founded 
 nearly on our ideas of tonic and dominant, but also 
 by enriching their harmonies with chromatic varia- 
 tions. Willaert thus stands out as one of the found- 
 ers of what has been called the coloristic or chromatic 
 school of the sixteenth century. In his music, and 
 even more in the music of his followers, the old modes 
 are constantly altered and with them the practice of 
 musica ficta, already mentioned, reaches its height.* 
 It meant the crumbling of the model system. It must 
 not, however, be supposed that Willaert abandoned en- 
 tirely the traditions of the Netherlanders and that he 
 
 * Musica flcta is music in which the ecclesiastical modes, theoretically 
 never to be altered, are freely varied by chromatics, that is to say, in 
 which the diatonic or natural notes of the modes are raised and lowered 
 by sharps and flats, either to enrich the harmony or to facilitate the leading 
 of the voice parts. The instinct so to alter notes that they may glide or 
 lead, so to speak, into certain chords is almost fundamental. The same 
 instinct was eiiually powerful in another direction in forming scales even 
 among semi-civilised races, only in scales, which are melodic formulae, 
 the instinct is to glide downward to a final note, as, for instance, in the 
 Dorian tetrachord of the Greeks, whereas in harmonic music the Instinct 
 Is to glide upward. The so-called leading tone in our scale is the result 
 of harmonic instinct, and its final establishment in the scale is certainly 
 heralded in musica flcta. A comparison of the so-called natural and har- 
 monic minor scales in our own system will, perhaps, make the matter 
 clear to the reader lacking technical knowledge. The natural A-minor scale 
 comprises on the keyboard the white notes from A to a. In the harmonic 
 minor, that is to say, in the minor scale so altered as to be suitable for 
 the purposes of harmony, the G is raised a half tone by a sharp and 
 therefore leads irresistibly to the A above it. This sharping of the G aug- 
 ments the natural interval from F to G, and, since this augmented interval 
 is hard to sing, the F, too, is sometimes sharped, and the scale then be- 
 comes what we call the melodic minor. Nothing could be more indicative 
 than this 'melodic' compromise of the power harmony has exercised over 
 the development of music, for rather than do without the leading tone, 
 which is itself an alteration of the natural scale, we alter the scale still 
 further. Our melodic minor scale is therefore constructed to square with 
 the harmonic need, a queer paradox. Before harmony came to influence 
 composers the true melodic alteration of this scale of white notes between 
 A and a would have been the flatting or lowering of the B, so that the 
 
 301 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 gave up writing in the complicated style altogether. 
 He, indeed, employed imitation and canon, but more 
 casually; often only at the entrance of short alternating 
 sections. His voice parts then proceeded in 'solid chord 
 pillars,' as Naumann has happily said, in a style mark- 
 edly in advance of the old contrapuntal conceptions. 
 In him therefore we have a brilliant example of the 
 old style worked upon by new impulses, by the spirit 
 of the Renaissance, the desire for rich color and varied, 
 beautiful form. 
 
 Willaert was an industrious composer, and his works 
 go far toward making the period from 1450 to 1550 
 'the golden century of the Netherlands.' Masses, mo- 
 tets, psalms and hymns, madrigals and canzone are 
 all well-represented. One unusual composition, for 
 five voices, iij the form of a narrative based on the 
 Bible story Susannah, seems like an early prophecy of 
 the sacred cantata, although the treatment is severely 
 hymnlike and not dramatic. As a writer of madrigals 
 and of frottole WiUaert's position is discussed in an- 
 other chapter; though it may be said in passing that 
 in these, as in his sacred music, his individuality is 
 marked, and his knowledge and musical skill evident. 
 
 Though a northerner by birth, Willaert became the 
 founder of a school characteristically Italian, and his 
 work seemed, to his contemporaries, to embody the 
 very spirit of Venetian life, in its richness and variety. 
 He brought to the Italians the inheritance of the Neth- 
 erland art, turned it into new and interesting channels, 
 and revealed to later masters what possibilities of color 
 lay hidden under the strictness of its laws. 
 
 Upon the death of Willaert, his pupil, Cipriano di 
 
 melody might attain its most natural end on the lowest note of the scale 
 by a gliding half-step. It should be noted that relatively few indications 
 of chromatic alterations in musica flcta were written in the score. Singers 
 were given a special training to enable them to recognize when such altera- 
 tions were necessary, and to alter correctly. Thus In connection with 
 musica flcta elaborate rules were formulated which are not distantly re- 
 moved from our own rules of harmony. 
 
 302 
 
WILLAERT AND THE VENETIAN SCHOOL 
 
 Rore,* was appointed to the high office at St. Mark's. 
 Works of di Rore, including madrigals, motets, masses, 
 psalms, and a Passion according to St. John, were held 
 in high esteem by his contemporaries, especially in 
 Munich, where they were frequently performed under 
 the direction of Lassus. Duke Albert of Ravaria 
 caused a handsome copy of a collection of his church 
 compositions, graced by a portrait of the composer, 
 to be placed in the Munich library, where it still re- 
 mains. 
 
 Following di Rore at St. Mark's came Gioseffo Zar- 
 lino,t a member of the order of Franciscan monks, also 
 a pupil of Willaert, and a theorist of great importance. 
 Few of his compositions have survived, but his theo- 
 retical writing, Instituzioni harmoniche, Dimostrazioni 
 harmoniche, and Sopplimenti musicali, remain in an 
 edition of Zarlino's collected works published in four 
 volumes in 1589. There are also in manuscript French, 
 German, and Dutch translations of the Instituzioni, 
 which contain, besides an important discussion of the 
 third, and the major and minor consonant triad, a 
 clear explanation of double counterpoint in the octave, 
 twelfth, and in contrary motion; of canon and double 
 canon in the unison, octave, and upper and under fifth, 
 with numerous examples based upon the same cantus 
 firmus. Raldasarro Donati and Giovanni della Croce, 
 both distinguished musicians, in turn succeeded Zarlino 
 as maestro di capella at St. Mark's. 
 
 Elsewhere in Italy important composers appear, 
 native Italians who bring to the Netherland art the 
 Italian gift of melody and sweetness. Constanzo Festa,t 
 a Florentine, occupies an especially important place. 
 Riemann says of him, 'He can be looked upon as the 
 predecessor of Palestrina, with whose style his own 
 
 * CA Chap. IX, p. 275. 
 
 tBom 1517 at Chioggia, In Venetla; died 1590 at Venice. 
 
 t Cf. Chap. IX. p. 274. 
 
 303 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 has many points of similarity. He was the first Italian 
 contrapuntist of importance, and gives a foretaste of 
 the beauties which were to spring from the union of 
 Netherland art with Italian feeling for euphony and 
 melody.' Constanzo Porta, a pupil of Willaert, was 
 successively maestro of the Franciscan monastery at 
 Padua, and of churches at Ravenna, Osimo, and Loreto. 
 Gafori (or Gafurius, 1451-1522), cantor and master of 
 the boys at Milan cathedral, left many theoretical writ- 
 ings of great value. Arcadelt, already mentioned as a 
 writer of madrigals, composed a volume of masses, 
 published both in Venice and by Ballard and Leroy in 
 Paris in 1557. Jacob Clemens, better known by the 
 name of Clemens non Papa, to distinguish him from 
 the pope — a fact which attests, in a jocular way, his 
 popularity — was a Netherlander, and one of the most 
 famous composers of the epoch between Josquin and 
 Palestrina, leaving to posterity a large number of 
 masses, motets, and chansons, besides four books of 
 hymns and psalms, the melodies of which were taken 
 from Netherland folk song. 
 
 Meantime in Germany we find also musicians of dis- 
 tinction, though as yet none of the very first rank. 
 One of the oldest of these was Adam von Fulda, a 
 learned monk, known both as a composer and theorist, 
 and the author of at least one highly esteemed motet, 
 O vera lux et gloria. Heinrich Finck, Thomas Stolzer, 
 Ludwig Senfl, and Heinrich Isaak all deserve an hon- 
 orable place in the history of German music of the 
 late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Isaak, 
 though for some time considered a German, was born 
 in the Netherlands, probably about 1450, and was one 
 of the most learned of the contemporaries of Josquin. 
 He lived for a time in Ferrara, afterward becoming or- 
 ganist at the court of Lorenzp the Magnificent. From 
 this post he went to Rome, and finally entered the serv- 
 ice of the Emperor Maximilian I at Vienna. Petrucci 
 
 304 
 
GERMANY AND ENGLAND 
 
 printed five of his masses in 1506, and included many 
 of his other compositions in collections published early 
 in the century. Manuscript works are in the Munich, 
 Brussels, and Vienna libraries. His part songs were 
 considered models of their kind, and are not lacking 
 in interest even to-day. It is to Isaak we are indebted 
 for the lovely Inspruck, ich muss dich lassen, used as a 
 hymn by the followers of Luther, and by Sebastian 
 Bach in the St. Matthew Passion. 
 
 Ludwig Senfl (bom 1492, died about 1555), a pupil 
 and the successor of Isaak at the court chapel of Maxi- 
 milian I at Vienna, was later chapel-master at Munich. 
 According to Riemann, Senfl was one of the most dis- 
 tinguished, if not the most important, of the German 
 contrapuntists of the sixteenth century. He is further 
 remembered as a friend of Luther. A great number of 
 his compositions are preserved, among them being 
 masses, motets, odes, songs, and hymns for congre- 
 gational singing. 
 
 The work of the brilliant Clement Jannequin in Paris 
 was largely secular and will be treated in another chap- 
 ter. It may be remarked in passing that types of com- 
 position perfected by him were to have great influence 
 upon instrumental music before the end of the cen- 
 tury. In England John Merbecke (d. 1585), Christopher 
 Tye (d. 1572), Thomas TaUis (d. 1585), and WiUiam 
 Byrd (d, 1623) match the Netherlands in skill and 
 bring to their music not only the spirit of the new age, 
 but the peculiar melodiousness which has always char- 
 acterized English music. The works of Tallis became 
 great favorites and in the famous English collections 
 of music for the virginals toward the end of the century 
 several of his vocal works appeared as transcriptions. 
 Byrd must be ranked as one of the most daring com- 
 posers of the time. Though he conformed to the new 
 religion he remained at heart a Catholic, and his great 
 works are akin to those of the greatest Catholic com- 
 
 305 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 posers on the continent. He has, indeed, been called 
 the Lassus of England. Here, too, must be mentioned, 
 though belonging almost more to the next century,. 
 Thomas Morley (d. 1602), John Dowland (d. 1626), 
 and perhaps the greatest of all English composers ex- 
 cept Henry Purcell, Orlando Gibbons (d. 1625). All 
 these men were composing at the end of the century, 
 especially madrigals and other secular forms famous 
 not only for their great technical skill, but for their 
 remarkable sweetness and expressiveness. They were 
 all, moreover, skillful instrumentalists and brought 
 music for the harpsichord to a state far advanced be- 
 yond anything on the continent. John Bull (d. 1628) 
 was not only a master of the art of counterpoint but a 
 virtuoso on both organ and harpsichord, whose match 
 could be found only in Andrea and Giovanni Gabrielli 
 in Venice. 
 
 Everywhere the Renaissance spirit was at work, but 
 prosperous Venice stands out clearly as the centre of 
 the new movement which so colored and remodelled 
 music. Effects of double choirs, chromatic harmonies, 
 tendencies toward definiteness of form, and even the 
 combination of voices and instruments within the 
 church itself, all marks of the changes which were af- 
 fecting the development of music, all signs of the lib- 
 eration of music from the sway of the church and of 
 its closer relationship with passionate active life, are 
 first found in the works of the composers who were 
 connected with St. Mark's cathedral. But these men 
 were really pioneers and the results of their innova- 
 tions, though radical and far-reaching, were hardly 
 foreseen. They sowed seeds, so to speak, which were 
 to grow and flower long after their death. We have 
 now to consider how the art of the Netherlanders grew 
 to a present perfection in the works of two men — Or- 
 lando di Lasso and Pierluigi da Palestrina — ^both of 
 whom, but particularly the latter, pursued an ideal un- 
 
 306 
 
ORLANDO DI LASSO 
 
 touched by the modern forces playing upon music 
 about them; an ideal which, moreover, they attained 
 and by attaining brought to an end the first great pe- 
 riod in the history of European music. 
 
 IV 
 
 Orlando di Lasso * was born in the town of Mons, in 
 Hainault, probably in 1530. The Flemish form of the 
 name, Roland de Lattre, seems to have been abandoned 
 early in favor of the Italian. The fate of the musically 
 gifted boy, both during and long after the Middle 
 Ages, was a choir school; and accordingly Orlando was 
 entered as chorister in the local church of St. Nicho- 
 las. A writer named Van Quickelberg, giving an ac- 
 count of Lasso in 1565, says that he quickly came to a 
 good understanding of music, and that the beauty of 
 his voice caused him to be twice stolen from the school 
 in which he lived with the other choristers. Twice also 
 his 'good parents' rescued him; but, finally (at the age of 
 twelve), he became attached to the suite of Ferdinand 
 of Gonzaga, Viceroy of Sicily, with whom he travelled 
 to Italy. Orlando stayed for some time in Naples, 
 Rome, and Milan, continuing his studies, and then 
 seems to have undertaken a long journey through 
 France and England. By the year 1555 he was settled 
 in Antwerp and rather widely known as a composer. 
 Two years later Albert V, duke of Bavaria, called him 
 to serve as chamber musician at his court in Munich. 
 Duke Albert was a liberal man, a connoisseur of art, 
 and, oddly enough, a man of some fame both in the 
 athletic and in the religious world. He founded the 
 famous royal library of Munich, to which we have had 
 frequent occasion to refer, and enriched it during his 
 
 *AIso called Orlandus de Lassus. 
 
 307 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 lifetime with many valuable manuscripts and objects 
 of art. 
 
 At first Lasso, being unfamiliar with the German 
 language, filled rather a subordinate position among 
 the duke's musicians; but in 1562 he was appointed 
 master of the chapel, which included both the choir 
 and an orchestra. From this year on, up to the time 
 when the illness attacked him which resulted in his 
 death, his career was one of ever-increasing success 
 and prosperity. He was called the 'Prince of Musi- 
 cians.' In 1570 he was ennobled by the Emperor Maxi- 
 milian II, and in the year following Pope Gregory XIII 
 decorated him with the Order of the Golden Spur. 
 On visiting Paris he was received, with great favor by 
 King Charles IX; while at home Duke Albert assured 
 him his salary for life and appointed three of his sons 
 to honorable positions in the chapel. The successor 
 of Albert, Duke Wilhelm II, not only confirmed Lasso 
 in his position, but presented him, in appreciation of 
 his services, with a house and garden, and also made 
 suitable provision for his wife. Neither the favor of 
 royalty nor the admiration of princes, however, could 
 render him immune to ill fortune. His last few years 
 were clouded by mental trouble and melancholia. In 
 June, 1594, he died, and was buried in the cemetery of 
 the Franciscans. The monastery has been destroyed, 
 but the monument to Lasso was preserved and now 
 stands in the garden of the Academy of Fine Art in 
 Munich. 
 
 Although the name of Lasso is not so well known to 
 the world to-day as that of Palestrina, his career 
 was a remarkable one. In the oft-mentioned Munich 
 library, among other works of the master, is a manu- 
 script copy of his most famous work, the 'Penitential 
 Psalms,' written between 1562 and 1565, but not pub- 
 lished until some time later. At the performance of 
 these psalms Duke Albert was so impressed and af- 
 
 308 
 
Oilando di\asso 
 
ORLANDO DI LASSO 
 
 fected that he caused a manuscript copy to be made 
 and placed in his library. It was richly ornamented 
 by the court painter, Hans Mielich, and other artists, 
 and magnificently bound in leather.* Duke Albert was 
 perhaps an exceptional patron; but, granting that to 
 be the case, Lasso's career shows how honorable was 
 the position held by a great musician in his century. 
 In the duke's chapel were upward of ninety singers 
 and players, several of them composers of merit, all of 
 them musicians of ability. The choir singing was well 
 balanced, and correct in pitch, even through the longest 
 compositions. The general order of the ducal service 
 was for the wind and brass instruments of the or- 
 chestra to accompany the mass on Sundays, and festival 
 days, and, on the occasion of a banquet, to play dur- 
 ing the earlier courses of the dinner. The strings, un- 
 der Morari as conductor, then enlivened the remainder 
 of the feast until the dessert, when Lasso and his choir 
 of picked voices would finish the entertainment with 
 quartets, trios, or pieces for the full choir. For cham- 
 ber music, all the instruments would combine. The 
 duke and his family were keenly interested in Lasso's 
 work, passionately fond of music in itself and proud 
 of the celebrity of their chapel master. It is one of 
 the instances where reverence and appreciation came 
 to the artist during his lifetime; and it is not to be 
 doubted that these fortunate circumstances had a tre- 
 mendous influence on the master's work. His industry 
 and fertility were prodigious. Compositions amount- 
 ing to two thousand or more are accredited to him — 
 masses, motets, magnificats, passion music, frottole, 
 chansons and psalms. There are two hundred and 
 thirty madrigals alone. Following the lead of Willaert, 
 he sometimes used the divided choir and composed for 
 
 * This work contains the portrait which we reproduce herewith, and 
 which, taken in connecUon with its setting and the history of the man, 
 is of unconuuon interest. 
 
 309 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 it, and also showed himself not indifferent to the grow- 
 ing taste for psalm singing. 
 
 The Seven Penitential Psalms, composed at the 
 duke's request, are for five voices, some numbers with 
 two separate movements for each verse, the final move- 
 ment. Sic erat, for six voices. Each psalm is a compo- 
 sition of some length, though modern ideas as to their 
 tempi, and therefore as to the time required for their 
 performance, show considerable variation. 'It is not 
 true that Lasso composed the Penitential Psalms to 
 soothe the remorse of Charles IX, after the massacre 
 of St. Bartholomew, but it is more than probable that 
 they were sung before that unhappy monarch, and his 
 musical sense must indeed have been dull, if he found 
 no consolation and hope expressed in them. This is 
 no everyday music, which may charm at all seasons, 
 or in all moods; but there are times when we find our- 
 selves forgetting the antique forms of expression, pass- 
 ing the strange combinations of sounds, almost losing 
 ourselves in a new-found grave delight, till the last 
 few moments of the psalm — always of a more vigorous 
 character^— gradually recall us as from a beautiful 
 dream which "waking we can scarce remember" . . . 
 So unobtrusive is its character that we can fancy the 
 worshippers hearing it by the hour, passive rather 
 than active listeners, with no thought of the human 
 mind that fashioned its form. Yet the art is there, for 
 there is no monotony in the sequence of the move- 
 ments. Every variety that can be naturally obtained 
 by changes of key, contrasted effects of repose and 
 activity, or distribution of voices, are here; but these 
 changes are so quietly and naturally introduced, and 
 the startling contrasts now called "dramatic" so en- 
 tirely avoided, that the composer's part seems only to 
 have been to deliver faithfully a divine message, with- 
 out attracting notice to himself.' * 
 
 *J. R. Stemdale-Betmett, in Grove's Dictionary. 
 
 310 
 
PALESTRINA 
 
 De Lasso's secular compositions are placed by critics 
 almost unanimously even above his ecclesiastical work. 
 The madrigals and chansons reveal force and variety 
 of treatment, bold experiments with chromatics, a 
 freer modulation and a keen sympathy for the popular 
 elements of music. 'Lasso shed lustre on, and at the 
 same time closed, the great epoch of the Belgian as- 
 cendancy, which, during the space of two hundred 
 years, had given to the world nearly three hundred 
 musicians of marvellous science.' * The decline and 
 fall of the Netherland school, which began with the 
 death of its last great master, Lasso, are ascribed by 
 Fetis to the political disturbances and wars of the six- 
 teenth and succeeding centuries. But it seems more 
 probable that the intricacies of the contrapuntal art 
 created a desire for simpler methods. The genius of 
 Italy and Germany, upon whose soil the last Nether- 
 land masters flourished, supplied the very qualities 
 which brought the art to perfection. 
 
 It has already been related how, even as early as 
 1322, the liberties which careless, ignorant, or sacri- 
 legious singers took with the Roman service had called 
 forth denunciations from the papal chair. The genius 
 of the Netherland schools, dominating church music 
 as it did for a space of two hundred years, was, like 
 Janus, two-faced. On the one hand, it developed a 
 musical technique so complete and perfect in form 
 that any further progress without an entire change of 
 principle seemed impossible; and, on the other, it 
 fostered a dry, mathematical correctness that led, at 
 its worst, to an utter disregard of expression and feel- 
 ing. Only the genius of a Josquin or a Lasso rendered 
 
 * Eiesewetter: Uasikgeschichte, 
 
 311 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 learning subservient to beauty of expression and car- 
 ried out the true mission of art. 
 
 In Rome, however, no master had yet appeared who 
 was great enough to force into the background all the 
 unsanctioned innovations by which unscrupulous mu- 
 sicians sought to reach the popular taste. From the 
 time of the return of the popes from Avignon (1377) 
 Roman church music had been a continual source of 
 dissatisfaction to the Curia. As has been pointed out, 
 the plain-chant became more and more overladen with 
 contrapuntal embellishments; the mass sometimes ex- 
 hibited a labored canon worked over a long, slow can- 
 tus firmus, the different voices singing different sets of 
 words entirely unconnected with each other. Some- 
 times, again, the ritual was enlivened by texts begin- 
 ning with the words Baisez moy; Adieu, mes amours; 
 or the much tortured Omme arme, of which the tunes 
 were as worldly as the text. If these objections were 
 lacking, another was likely to be present in the ab- 
 surdly elaborate style, which rendered the words of so 
 little importance that they might as well not have ex- 
 isted at all. The mass, i)ristling with inept and dis- 
 tracting artifices,' had lost all relation to the service 
 it was supposed to illustrate. 'It was usual for the 
 most solemn phrases of the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, or 
 Agnus Dei to blend along the aisles of the basilica with 
 the unedifying refrains of the lewd chansons of Flan- 
 ders and Provence.' * In this manner the beautiful 
 ritual was either degraded by pedants into a mere 
 learned conundrum, or by idlers into a sacrilegious and 
 profane exercise; and the reproofs of popes and coun- 
 cils had, so far, not availed to keep out these signs of 
 deterioration, much less to lift church music to the 
 level of the sister arts. 
 
 In this situation the Council of Trent was forced to 
 recognize the degradation of music and to take up the 
 
 * Grove : Article on 'Palestriua.' 
 
 312 
 
LIFE OF PALESTRINA 
 
 question of a thorough and complete reform. In 1564 
 Pope Pius IV authorized a commission of eight car- 
 dinals to carry out the resolution of the council, whose 
 complaints were mainly upon the two points indicated 
 above — ^first, the melodies of the canti firmi were not 
 only secular, but sung to secular words, while the other 
 parts often sang something else; secondly, the style had 
 become so excessively florid as to obscure the words, 
 even when suitable, and render them of no account. 
 Some of the members of the council, it is claimed, de- 
 clared that it was better to forbid polyphony altogether 
 than to suffer the existing abuses to continue. In the 
 passionate desire for the purification of the ritual even 
 Josquin's works had been abandoned, not because of 
 any lack of admiration for them, but because he shared 
 necessarily in the general condemnation of all music 
 not Gregorian. A modest and devoted composer, how- 
 ever, had already attracted the attention of two of the 
 members of the pope's commission, Cardinals Borro- 
 meo and Vitellozzi, and it was to him they now turned 
 in their need. 
 
 Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina was born in 1526 * 
 of humble parentage in Praeneste, or Palestrina, a town 
 in the campagna four hours from Rome. Early in life 
 he came to the Imperial city, studied with one of the 
 excellent masters resident there, and then returned to 
 his native town to become organist in the cathedral. In 
 1547 he married the daughter of a tradesman, by whom 
 he had several children. In 1551 Pope Julius III called 
 him to Rome as choir-master of the St. Giulia Chapel 
 at St. Peter's, where he succeeded Arcadelt. Three 
 years later, after the' publication of a volume of masses, 
 dedicated to the pope, Palestrina received an appoint- 
 ment as singer in the papal choir. He had a poor voice, 
 he was a layman, and married. Each one of these rea- 
 sons was sufficient, according to the constitution of the 
 
 * Biemann : Handbuch der Musikgesehiehte, IP. 
 
 313 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Roman CoUege, to forbid his appointment, and Pales- 
 trina hesitated in his acceptance of the post. Not wish- 
 ing, however, to offend his powerful patron, and nat- 
 urally desirous of obtaining a permanent position, he 
 resigned his office at the St. Giulia chapel and entered 
 the pontifical choir. This appointment was supposed 
 to be for life, and the young singer may well have felt 
 discouraged when, after four years, a reforming pope, 
 Paul IV, dismissed him with two other married men. 
 In place of his salary as singer the pope awarded him 
 a pension of six scudi (less than six dollars) a month. 
 With a wife and family such a reduction of income 
 seemed nothing less than ruin to Palestrina, and, 
 stricken with nervous fever, he took to his bed. A 
 little more courage, however, might have served him 
 better; for his dismissal did not spell ruin. In two 
 months he was invited to fill the post of choir master at 
 the Lateran, and his fortunes again brightened. He 
 was able to keep his pension, together with the salary 
 accorded him in his new position. After six years he 
 was transferred to the Church of Santa Maria Mag- 
 giore, where he remained for ten years, his monthly 
 salary being about sixteen dollars. In 1571 he was 
 reappointed to his old ofBce of chapel master at the 
 Vatican. 
 
 Palestrina was chapel master at the Santa Maria 
 Maggiore at the time of the appointment of the com- 
 mission for the reform of church music. The Cardinals 
 Borromeo and Vitellozzi, both active members, recom- 
 mended that one more trial be made to harmonize re- 
 hgious requirements with the better taste of the people. 
 A story has prevailed for centuries that Palestrina was 
 requested to write a mass which should serve as a 
 model of what the music of the sacred office should 
 be, and that he submitted three works, which were first 
 performed with great care at the house of Cardinal 
 Vitellozzi, before a group of clergy and singers. There 
 
 314 
 
LIFE OF PALESTRINA 
 
 was an immediate and enthusiastic verdict in favor of 
 the compositions. The first two were good, and were 
 sufficiently praised; but the third, the Missa Papse Mar- 
 celli, as it was afterward called in honor of an earlier 
 pope, was felt to be the epitome of all that was noble 
 and dignified in ecclesiastical music, the crown and 
 glory of the service itseK. It was first sung in the papal 
 chapel in 1565. In appreciation of the noble work, 
 Palestrina was made official composer to the pontifical 
 choir — a post created especially for him — and succeed- 
 ing popes confirmed him in his office as long as he 
 lived. 
 
 The story of the commission of cardinals and the 
 musical reforms instituted by the Council of Trent has 
 been so emphasized by some historians as to represent 
 Palestrina as the 'savior' without whose services 
 church music would virtually have ceased to exist. 
 Such a view, however, requires some modification. 
 Church music was not 'saved' by Palestrina in any 
 such sense, though its debt to him is, nevertheless, al- 
 most inestimable. There was never any intention on 
 the part of the cardinals to abolish it altogether from 
 the church; but they had long been seeking a form and 
 a style which should be intelligible, acceptable both to 
 the devotee and the layman of cultivated musical taste, 
 and suitable to the office which it holds in the sacred 
 service. Ambros goes so far as to deny that there was 
 any cause for such wholesale purification; but, in view 
 of the facts cited, this is evidently an error. That the 
 evil was widespread is proved by the action that pro- 
 vincial synods took, in following the example of the 
 Council of Trent, Milan and Cambrai in 1565, Constance 
 and Augsburg in 1567, Namur and Mechlin in 1570. 
 
 From the time of Josquin attempts had been made 
 by one and another of the masters mentioned in this 
 chapter to make a more suitable connection between 
 text and melody, to simplify the contrapuntal writing, 
 
 315 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 and to put expression into their art. To some extent, 
 as has been seen, they accomphshed their purpose. 
 Josquin, Festa, Gombert, Morales, Rore, and especially 
 Willaert and Lasso, have all left evidences of their 
 noble endeavor in this direction. It was left to Pales- 
 trina, however, to achieve a high level of style, the ex- 
 cellence of which was reached by the other masters only 
 in isolated instances; and to prove to the cardinals that 
 the music of the church could be lifted to its true dig- 
 nity. He differs, not in form, but in aesthetic principle, 
 from his contemporaries; but it is precisely that dif- 
 ference which raised Palestrina to the pinnacle of 
 fame. 
 
 The outward facts of his later life offer little that 
 need detain the reader. Among his patrons were popes 
 and princes, but they did not, on the whole, distinguish 
 themselves by kindness or generosity to the musician. 
 Jealousy among members of the choir with which he 
 was so long connected was a constant source of un- 
 pleasantness, and his faithful work was meagrely re- 
 warded. His largest regular earnings amounted to 
 something like thirty dollars a month, and he appa- 
 rently never dreamed of any revenue from the sale of 
 his works. Indeed, it is unUkely that any very sub- 
 stantial reward ever came to him with his added honors 
 as a composer. Neither could he have added much to 
 his gains by teaching, for in the whole course of his 
 hfe he taught but seven private pupils, three of whom 
 were his own sons. Continuous poverty was accom- 
 panied by domestic griefs of the deepest kind. Three 
 sons, all giving promise of inheriting the father's in- 
 tellect and genius, died one after another; the wife 
 with whom he was especially happy died in 1580; and 
 the one remaining son became a profligate and worth- 
 less spendthrift. It may be added that not long after 
 the death of his first wife he married a wealthy widow 
 and so was well provided for till the end of his life. 
 
 316 
 
Perluigi da Palestrina 
 
(._ l._^ 
 
THE PALESTRINA STYLE 
 
 One event in the master's life stands out in contrast 
 to the general sadness. In 1575, the year of Jubilee, 
 fifteen hundred singers, belonging to two confraterni- 
 ties of his native town, made a pilgrimage to Rome, 
 and utilized the occasion to do him honor. Dividing 
 themselves into three choruses, with priests, laymen, 
 boys, and women among their number, and with Pal- 
 estrina himself at their head, they entered Rome in a 
 solemn and ceremonial procession, singing the music 
 of their great townsman. This was perhaps the only 
 public honor Palestrina received during his lifetime. 
 
 Among the friends of his later life were S. Filippo 
 Neri, his confessor, a favorite pupil named Guidetti, 
 Ippolito d'Este, and Giacomo Buoncompagni, a nephew 
 of Pope Gregory XIII. The activity of his early years 
 continued almost to the very end. The record of the 
 second half of his life is but a long catalogue of his 
 publications. Whole collections of magnificent works 
 were dedicated to popes, cardinals, or princes, some of 
 whom returned the honor with scant courtesy. The 
 last of these was a collection of thirty madrigali spir- 
 ituali for five voices, in honor of the Virgin, dedicated 
 to the grand-duchess of Tuscany, wife of Ferdinand 
 de' Medici. Baini and Dr. Burney are full of praises 
 for these last productions. While he was eagerly at 
 work on another volume — seven masses to be dedicated 
 to Pope Clement VII — he was taken ill and died, Feb- 
 ruary 2, 1594, comforted and cared for to the end, not 
 by his mean and worthless son, but by his saintly 
 friend, Filippo Neri. By order of the Curia he was 
 buried with all the honor of a cardinal or prince in the 
 Basilica of the Vatican, while the citizens of Rome, 
 high and low, followed him in sorrow to his grave. 
 
 317 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 VI 
 
 The immense number of Palestrina's works is aston- 
 ishing even in that age of prodigious workers. The 
 list appended to a prospectus of a proposed 'selected' 
 edition of his works mentions ninety-three masses, one 
 hundred and nineteen motets, forty-five hymns, sixty- 
 eight offertories, three volumes of Lamentations; of 
 litanies three books, of Magnificats two books, of mad- 
 rigals four books — all of which are but a portion of his 
 labors. The mass for Holy Thursday, Fratres ego enim 
 accept, the mass for the assumption of the Virgin, As- 
 sumpta est Maria in coelum, the motet, Surge illumi- 
 nare Jerusalem, and the Stabat Mater for two choirs, 
 are still in use in the papal chapel. The Improperia, 
 (reproaches of the Lord to an ungrateful people), per- 
 formed for the first time in 1560, immediately obtained 
 a great renown, and were added at once by Pope Pius 
 IV to the collection of the apostolic chapel. This work 
 also has been repeated in the Sistine chapel yearly on 
 Good Friday up to the present time. Its performance 
 made a profound impression upon both Goethe and 
 Mendelssohn. The latter thus describes the singing of 
 the pontifical choristers in the rendition of this work: 
 'They understood how to bring out and place each deli- 
 cate trait in the most favorable light, without giving it 
 undue prominence; one chord gently melted into an- 
 other. The ceremony, at the same time, is solemn and 
 imposing; deep silence prevails in the chapel, only 
 broken by the reechoing "Holy," sung with unvarying 
 sweetness and expression.' 
 
 The Missa Papas Marcelli, which proved so impor- 
 tant an instrument in the history of church music, is 
 written for six voices, soprano, alto, two tenors, and 
 two basses. Immediately upon its production its popu- 
 larity became very great. Cardinals quoted poetry in 
 
 318 
 
THE PALESTRINA STYLE 
 
 its praise; the pope commanded that a special per- 
 formance be given in the apostolic chapel, and that it 
 be transcribed into the chapel collection in unusually 
 large characters. Baini compares its grandeur to that 
 of Thirty-third Canto of the Inferno. Curious leg- 
 ends as to its origin sprang up, and unauthorized 'ar- 
 rangements' went through several editions. A poor 
 adaptation for four voices was made by Anerio, and 
 others for eight and twelve voices by other followers 
 of the Roman school. It is perhaps the best known 
 example of the celebrated Palestrina style. 
 
 In a classification of Palestrina's work the German 
 writer Hauptmann distinguishes three styles, corre- 
 sponding generally to the master's very early, adoles- 
 cent, and mature years. The first shows markedly the 
 influence of his Netherland predecessors and teachers. 
 The melodies move along independently without 
 'melting into chords,' and the predominating character 
 is fugal and canonic. In this phase of his work he was 
 still influenced by the 'evil fashion' of the period, which 
 for the most part subordinated the true meaning of the 
 music to the display of contrapuntal science. This 
 quality is shown occasionally, also, in later composi- 
 tions, as, for example, in the mass with the well-worn 
 L'omme arme theme, wherein he boldly met the Flem- 
 ish composers on their own ground and proved that 
 he could write as learned counterpoint as they. In 
 these examples he seems intentionally to have adopted 
 the florid style of his predecessors, overlaying the 
 theme with erudite contrapuntal figures, and rendering 
 it elaborate and difficult. 
 
 The mass Assumpta est Maria may be said to illus- 
 trate the second style, which is in marked contrast to 
 his preceding work. The music is much less elaborate, 
 the voices proceeding, for the most part, simultaneously 
 in smoothly flowing phrases. The third, that known as 
 the Palestrina style, illustrated so famously by the 
 
 319 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Pope Marcellus mass, is a combination of all that was 
 best in the Netherland and Italian schools. It is a vocal 
 style in simple counterpoint, mostly note against note, 
 with only a moderate use of imitation, and an avoid- 
 ance of chromatics, violent contrasts, and everything 
 approaching the dramatic. At first he followed the 
 custom of using secular tunes for sacred works; but 
 in his best period he almost invariably employed the 
 ancient plain-song melodies in connection with the 
 proper sacred text. Many of his canti firmi are placed 
 in the soprano instead of in the tenor voice. Strict 
 attention is shown to syllabic declamation, and to a 
 simple, singable arrangement of the voice parts, which 
 is frequently based upon a succession of pure triads. 
 The harmony is gentle and serene, and the devices for 
 obtaining contrasts and tone color are conspicuous by 
 their absence; while the whole is imbued with sincer- 
 ity, devotion, and a great sense of beauty. Thibaut, a 
 Frenchman, says of him, 'He is so completely master 
 of the ancient ecclesiastical modes, and of the treat- 
 ment of the simple triad, that repose and enjoyment 
 are to be found in his works in a greater degree than 
 in those of any other master.' 
 
 Contrasts and similarities between the lives of di 
 Lasso and Palestrina suggest themselves at once. The 
 one a northerner, aristocratic, famous, successful, rich, 
 welcomed in the most courtly and cultured circles of 
 Europe, encouraged and richly rewarded in all his 
 endeavors : the other a southerner, poor, burdened with 
 sorrows and difficulties throughout his life, pursuing 
 his calling without regard to favor or disfavor. Yet 
 they were alike in their prodigious activity, in their 
 lovable and gentle natures, and in their devotion to the 
 Catholic Mother Church. Both were rich in genius — 
 the northerner more emotional, more sensuous in har- 
 mony, more dramatic, the southerner more cahn and 
 serene in the beauty of his work. Palestrina seems to 
 
 320 
 
THE CULMINATION OF VOCAL POLYPHONY 
 
 have stood apart, untouched both by the swarming in- 
 tellectual novelties of the time, and by the revolution- 
 ary spirit within the church. Great of intellect indeed 
 he must have been, for he conquered a vast field of 
 learning, and reached a point where his art was ob- 
 jective, universal, and perfect according to its type. 
 
 With the death of Palestrina the first great period of 
 what we may call modern music, in distinction from 
 the music of the ancients, which was purely melodic, 
 came practically to perfection which was an end. A 
 few distinguished composers carried on for a while 
 the traditions of the vocal polyphonic style, now per- 
 fect, chief among whom were Giovanni Nanino (d. 
 1607), Thomas Luis de Vittoria (d. ca. 1613), Felice 
 Anerio (d. 1614), and Giovanni Anerio (d. ca. 1620), 
 possibly the brother of Felice; but new and powerful 
 influences were at work to turn men's minds from this 
 perfection and rapidly so to modify the style itself that 
 the characteristics and the spirit of it vanished. It 
 had grown up within the church, it was apt only to the 
 expression of exalted religious rapture, and even before 
 the century which brought about its flawless perfec- 
 tion the more passionate spirit of man was seeking to 
 express itself. Such a spirit brought color and fire and 
 dramatic vigor to music, even to music of the church 
 such as we have seen in Venice; and such emotional 
 force the exquisitely adjusted mechanism of polyphony 
 was in no way suited to express. We must remember 
 that it was essentially religious music and that pro- 
 nounced rhythm and sharp dissonances were con- 
 sciously avoided; furthermore, that at its best it was 
 to be sung without accompaniment and that a con- 
 junct, smooth movement of the voice parts was neces- 
 sary since singers in choir without accompaniment 
 cannot be sure to sing wide or unnatural intervals ex- 
 actly. Since rhythm, dissonance, and sudden leaps or 
 turns in melody are the chief means whereby music 
 
 321 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 can express emotional agitation, the Palestrina style 
 was not even remotely suitable to the new and active 
 spirit spread abroad tiirough the influence of the Ital- 
 ian Renaissance, which had discovered new worlds, 
 new arts, new sciences, new life. The delicate and in- 
 finitely complicated structure could not but be rent and 
 distorted. Luther with his chorales, the English with 
 their new service and the coming of the Elizabethan 
 age, even Willaert in catholic, rich Venice with his two 
 organs and his double choirs had forecast the end of the 
 Palestrina style. 
 
 Several features of this marvellous style were des- 
 tined to disappear simply with the natural growth of 
 music. In the first place the polyphonic ideal, in its 
 highest, strictest sense — the submersion of many mel- 
 odies in a river of sound in which no melody is evi- 
 dent, the complete suppression of individual personal 
 utterance — ^was a mediaeval and essentially intellectual 
 ideal. It could not long maintain its hold against the 
 inborn natural desire of the individual to sing out his 
 own personal feehngs. For it meant the suppression 
 of melody, an unnatural restraint. In the second place, 
 from the time when two melodies were first joined the 
 knowledge and appreciation of harmony were bound to 
 grow — that is, the knowledge of the effect of disso- 
 nances and consonances following each other, and it 
 needed but a matter of time for men to come to plan 
 music with the end of producing such effects in a defi- 
 nite sequence. Now in polyphony the consideration 
 of the progression of chords was entirely secondary to 
 the ideal of writing several independent voice parts. 
 Of course the influence of the church modes was strong 
 in delaying the development of the harmonic bases of 
 music, they were iron bands about harmony and they 
 quite fettered modulation, for it was forbidden to pass 
 in the course of a piece from one mode to another. 
 But here again the Palestrina style is related to the 
 
 322 
 
THE CULMINATION OF VOCAL POLYPHONY 
 
 scholasticism of the Middle Ages. The ecclesiastical 
 modes were in general closely connected with the 
 philosophy of aesthetics, on the one hand, and with 
 mathematics, on the other; and all the popular music 
 which has been preserved from the Middle Ages shows 
 an unmistakable and deeply significant choice of those 
 modes only which resemble our own major and minor. 
 In the suppression of individual emotion, in the 
 banishment of rhythm and other active startling ele- 
 ments of music in order to produce the effect of vague- 
 ness and mystery, in the limitation of music to ecclesi- 
 astical modes, the Palestrina style is the flower of the 
 spirit of the Middle Ages, of a spirit that in the lifetime 
 of Palestrina himself was already dissipating in thin 
 air. He stands looking backward upon the centuries 
 which had given him birth, while on every hand the 
 activities of man were urging impetuously forward. 
 To the new aims, therefore, we must now turn our at- 
 tention. 
 
 F. B. 
 
 323 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE BEGINNINGS OF OPERA AND ORATORIO 
 
 The forerunners of opera — The Florentine reform of 1600; the 'expres- 
 sive' style; Perl and Caccinl; the first opera; Cavallerl and the origin of 
 oratorio^Claudio Monteverdi: his life and his works. 
 
 In tracing the genesis of the connection of music 
 with dramatic action we shall rely upon the delightful 
 and exhaustive study of M. RoUand entitled L'Opdra 
 avant I'opera," in which he shows our most popular 
 species of musical art to have descended from the pas- 
 toral play and the "antique' drama with music, this 
 in turn to have come out of the sacre rappresentazione 
 (sacred representations) and the maggi, the May fes- 
 tivals, which still exist in Italy. The sacred represen- 
 tations again were a union of the fourteenth century 
 divozione or liturgical plays (dramatizations of the re- 
 ligious offices), and the national festival of Florence, 
 held in honor of its patron saint, John. These re- 
 markable festivals date back to the thirteenth century 
 and were staged so sumptuously and elaborately as 
 to require months of preparation. 
 
 Research has shown that the words of the sacred 
 plays were at first entirely sung, and by analogy with 
 the traditional May festivals we are even informed 
 as to the nature of the melodies used. There were 
 traditional cantilena forms for every part of the ac- 
 tion: prologues, epilogues, prayers, etc., and we meet 
 
 * In Musieiens d'autrefois (3me ed., 1912), p. 19. 
 
 324 
 
THE FORERUNNERS OF OPERA 
 
 already the familiar variety of solo, duet, trio and 
 semi-choir, even though all the voices sing in unison. 
 Popular songs and dance music were interpolated as 
 well as Te Deums and Laudi, and the intermezzi, 
 later so popular, were already in evidence. The cos- 
 tuming and personation of characters were consist- 
 ently carried out and the properties and mechanical 
 deyices {ingegni teatrali) were the creations of the 
 genius of such men as Brunelleschi in Florence and 
 Leonardo da Vinci in Milan. Parallel phenomena are 
 the Marienklagen existing in Germany from the four- 
 teenth century on, the music of which was similar to 
 the liturgical chant of the church.* 
 
 We have mentioned the interest which Lorenzo de 
 Medici took in the carnival celebrations. The sacred 
 representations engaged his attention no less: follow- 
 ing the spirit of the age, he secularized them to some 
 extent, substituting classic myth for Christian allegory. 
 The fifteenth century saw the spread of Humanism 
 in the wake of the Revival of Learning, and the six- 
 teenth beheld its ultimate triumph. The theatre felt 
 the effect of the movement no less than architecture 
 and sculpture. The love of show, of rich display, 
 which obsessed the princely despots of the period, 
 coupled with their ardor for the beauties of antiquity, 
 found its expression in the classic tragedies, the com- 
 edies and pastoral plays which now taxed the talents 
 of poets, of painters and of musicians. Far from being 
 exclusive, these spectacles became the popular amuse- 
 ments in such centres as Rome, Urbino, Mantua, Venice 
 and Ferrara. On festival occasions they assumed phe- 
 nomenal proportions, as for instance at the marriage 
 of Lucrezia Borgia to the son of Hercules d'Este, when 
 five comedies by Plautus were played in one week in 
 
 * An example of a Marienklage, dating from the sixteenth century, is 
 reprinted by Eitner in the Pablikation Blterer praktischer and theor- 
 ettscher Musikwerke, Vol. X. 
 
 325 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 a theatre holding five thousand spectators. Music al- 
 ways played an essential part in the performance, 
 though mostly in the form of intermedii, which, as they 
 assumed a more independent dramatic character and 
 developed their dancing features, became in them- 
 selves the forerunners of the ballet-opera.* 
 
 Notable exceptions, in which the purpose of music 
 was something more than mere relief, were the great 
 poet Pohziano's Orfeo given in 1474 with music by 
 one Germi, and also a Dafne produced with music 
 by Gian Pietro deUa Viola, in 1486, both at Mantua, 
 'that same Mantua in which there were to be played 
 one hundred and forty years later the Orfeo of Monte- 
 verdi and the Dafne of Gagliano.' The coincidence is 
 indeed striking as is also the fact that the Florentine 
 'inventors' of opera in 1600 chose as their first themes 
 the same two classic tales. It would be interesting to 
 compare the 1474 version of the perennial — and ideal — 
 operatic subject, the story of Orpheus and Eurydice, 
 with that of the mighty Gluck; but, alas, the music 
 has not been preserved to us. Mr. W. J. Henderson, 
 who has endeavored to prove this Orfeo to be the 
 first opera of record, concludes that the frottola, in its 
 solo arrangement, formed the basis of the music; that 
 the dialogue was probably sung throughout; that there 
 were choruses and ballets — all the accessories of 
 modern opera in fact.t It was nevertheless nothing 
 more than an 'antique' drama with music, with the 
 only difference that in this case the subject was a 
 musical one, that the leading character represented a 
 singer, and was in fact impersonated in the original 
 performance by one of the most famous Italian vo- 
 calists of the period, Baccio Ugolino, who sang to the 
 accompaniment of his own lyre (lira da braccia) . The 
 
 * A description of a highly developed example of this species, the 
 Ballet-Comique de la royne, will be found In Chap. XIII, p. 450. 
 
 t C/. W. J. Henderson: 'Some Forerunners of Italian Opera.' (1913.) 
 
 326 
 
. THE FORERUNNERS QF OPERA 
 
 scenery of this performance at the Palazzo Gonzaga 
 was simple, only one setting being required. The 
 stage was divided, one side representing tiie Thracian 
 countryside, and the other the realm of Pluto. But 
 Poliziano later revised the work, dividing it into five 
 acts and elaborating it along the line of the sacre 
 rappresentazione. 
 
 Not only at Florence and Mantua, but in Venice, in 
 Ferrara at the court of Hercules I, in Rome under papal 
 auspices, in fact wherever there was a fastidious aris- 
 tocracy, these 'antique' comedie flourished. Among 
 artists, Leonardo da Vinci at Milan, Raphael at Rome, 
 Andrea del Sarto at Florence, Dosso Dossi at Ferrara, 
 and nmnerous other immortal names of the Renais- 
 sance are associated with their production, and among 
 musicians Alphonso della Viola, Antonio dal Cometto, 
 Claudio Merulo, Andrea Gabrieli, and many more. As 
 Hvunanism succumbs to the Catholic reaction, with 
 the pillaging of Rome by Charles V (1527) and the 
 taking of Florence soon after, as liberty of thought is 
 crushed by the Inquisition, as petty tyrants supersede 
 broad-spirited despots, the harmless pastoral play suc- 
 ceeds the comedia. Sumptuous settings and meaning- 
 less music now outweigh dramatic significance. Poets 
 such as Ariosto and Tasso are the authors of these 
 spectacles, and another generation of great artists, 
 John of Bologna, Salviati, Bernardo Bumlalente and 
 perhaps Michael Angelo, lavish their skill upon them. 
 Indeed both painters and poets in this age are mu- 
 sicians. Music had at this epoch obsessed the entire 
 thought of Italy. Painters, writers, the elite, especially 
 in the north of Italy, madly abandoned themselves to 
 it. Nearly all great Venetian painters of the sixteenth 
 century: Giorgione, Bassano, Tintoretto, Giovanni 
 d'Udine, Sebastiano del Piombo, were musicians. Let 
 us recall the numerous paintings of 'concerts,' either 
 sacred (Bellini) or profane (Giorgione, Bonifazio, Ver- 
 
 327 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 onese) ; remember how in the 'Marriage at Canaan' 
 of the Louvre, Titian holds the bass viol and Bassano 
 the flute, Sebastiano del Piombo was celebrated as 
 lute player and singer, while Vasari recognized more 
 willing Tintoretto's talent as a musician than as a 
 painter. At the court of Leo X music superseded 
 all the other arts. The pope decreed for two virtuosi, 
 charged with the superintendence of St. Peter's, a 
 stipend equal to Raphael's. A Jewish lutenist, Giam- 
 maria, received the title of count and a palace. A 
 singer, Gabriel Merino, became archbishop of Bari. 
 Finally, it will be remembered that, when Leonardo 
 da Vinci presented himself at the court of Ludovico 
 il Moro at Milan, it was, according to Vasari, not in 
 the capacity of painter, but as musician. Girolamo 
 Parabasco said, T am a musician, not a poet' and the 
 great Tasso, 'Music is, so to speak, the soul of poetry.' 
 Beccari's Sacrificio, produced in 1554 with music 
 by Alfonso della Viola (which is preserved), before 
 Hercules II of Ferrara, the Aretusa of Alberto LoUio 
 (1563), the Sfortunato of Agostino Argenti, and the 
 famous Aminta of Torquato Tasso,* given with music 
 at the court of the grand duke of Tuscany in 1590, are 
 examples of pastoral plays. Tasso's collaborators and 
 advisers in this production were none other than Emilio 
 de' Cavalieri and Laura Guidicioni (perhaps also Ot- 
 tavio Rinuccini, at any rate a spectator) who, we shall 
 presently see, are to become instrumental in the crea- 
 tion of triie opera. In the same year these two pro- 
 duced privately their pastoral plays with music, II 
 Satiro and Disperazione di fileno, the first known ex- 
 amples of opera, for they were set to music through- 
 out, and probably even in 'representative' style, as it 
 
 * Tasso's fervent love for music is well known and reflected in 
 
 his writings. The particular musician of his choice was Don Carlo Gesu- 
 
 aldo, prince of Venosa, who set the music for u number of Tasso's 
 madrigals. 
 
 328 
 
'The Concert' 
 
 After the painting by Giorgione (Pitti Palace) 
 
THE FORERUNNERS OF OPERA 
 
 ■was called. Five years later (1595) followed II Giuco 
 della cieca, played before the Archduke Ferdinand, but 
 the music of none of these works has been preserved. 
 
 II 
 
 The opera, then, had arrived. But, unaware of the 
 fact, its so-called inventors, caught in the spell of anti- 
 quarian research, their imaginations transported by 
 the glories of the classic past, turned their vision back 
 to ancient Greece — to Athens, that prototype of their 
 own city of Florence — ^where :^schylus unfolds before 
 the eyes of his countrymen a spectacle worthy of the 
 gods. They see no analogy in their madrigals and the 
 dithyrambic chorus of the ancients, no parallel in their 
 sacre rappresentazione to the Eleusynian mysteries and 
 Bacchic festivals, but, rejecting all that has gone be- 
 fore, attempt to resurrect the magic power of music as 
 an organic part of human speech, and the revival of 
 the greatest product of classic genius — the Greek trag- 
 edy. Such was the purpose of the camerata, that genial 
 circle of amateurs, literati and musicians which gath- 
 ered at the house of Giovanni Bardi, count of Vernio, 
 in Florence, one of those famous 'academies' which 
 were the centres of the intellectual life of Italy in the 
 sixteenth century. 
 
 Jacopo Peri, an erudite musician and a favorite 
 singer; his younger colleague Giulio Caccini of Rome; 
 the already familiar Emilio de' Cavalieri, inspector- 
 general of the artists in Florence; Luca Marenzio, the 
 most eminent musician of the city, and Christoforo 
 Malvezzi, all of whom had collaborated on the inter- 
 mezzi to Bardi's L'Amico fido in 1589, were, together 
 with Jacopo Corsi, a wealthy and intelligent patron of 
 music, and Vincenzo Galilei, father of the great astron- 
 omer, the chief members of the circle, besides the host. 
 
 329 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 These men, liberal thinkers, modernists, literati rather 
 than professional musicians, were out of sympathy 
 with the pedants of the contrapuntal school, the 'Goths' 
 against whom Galilei * had already published his dia- 
 tribe in 1551. The Latin translations of Aristoxenus' 
 Ptolemy's and Aristotle's treatises on music, published 
 in 1562, aroused their keenest interest and discussion, 
 and their admiration of the plastic arts which had sig- 
 nalized the Renaissance in the preceding centuries now 
 found an echo in their attempt to reconstruct a lost 
 ideal. In 1585 the great Andrea Gabrieli had written 
 choruses for the solemn performance of CEdipus Rex 
 at Vincenza, and in 1589 Luca Marenzio wrote a 'Com- 
 bat of Apollo and the Dragon,' drawing his inspiration 
 from the descriptions of the Nomas Pythikos of the 
 Greeks (see Chap. IV, p. 127). Convinced, despite the 
 lack of examples, of the greater expressive power of 
 Greek music with the employment of simpler means, 
 Galilei, after long research with the aid of Bardi, now 
 composed for a solo voice and instrumental accom- 
 paniment Dante's 'Lament of Ugolino,' in the so-called 
 stile rappresentativo, the representative style. His ex- 
 periment proved suggestive if not altogether successful, 
 and the task was next taken up by Caccini,t who, with 
 probably more natural talent than Galilei, set himself 
 to the composition of several canzone in the new style, 
 
 * B. Florence, ca. 1533, d. there, 1600, was a pupil of Zarlino, an 
 excellent musician and an able lutenist and violinist. He published two 
 books of madrigals and made the first known experiments in the "repre- 
 sentative" style of melody. He was . a deep student of Greek music, 
 discovered the hymns of Mesomedes (transcribed successfully only 200 
 years later) and published 'Dialogue on Antique and Modem Music' 
 (1581), a diatribe against Zarlino and his methods. His son, Galileo 
 Galilei, the great astronomer, is said to have constructed his first telescope 
 from an organ pipe belonging to his father. 
 
 t Giullo Caccini (surnamed Romano), b. Rome ea. 1550; d. 1618 in 
 Florence, where he had lived since 1564 and was employed at court as 
 a singer. During the winter of 1604-1605 he sojourned in Paris at the 
 request of Queen Maria (de Medici). Besides the works mentioned in 
 our text, he wrote Fuggilotio musicale (madrigals, etc.) and a sequel 
 to his Nuove mnsiche. 
 
 330 
 
THE FLORENTINE REFORM OF 1600 
 
 a simple cantilena over a figured bass (see Chap. XI, 
 p. 355) which provided a harmonious support to be 
 executed by instruments (lute or theorbo). Endowed 
 with a beautiful and well-cultivated voice, he achieved 
 a genuine success among his sympathetic circle. To 
 make sure of himself, however, he proceeded to Rome, 
 where his new songs were applauded by an assem- 
 blage of connoisseurs. Thus encouraged, he appealed 
 to his literary friends for verses in all metres, which 
 he promptly set to music. Some years later (1601) 
 these were published under the title La nixove musiche 
 ('The New Music') with a remarkable preface, in which 
 their author claims the merit for having originated 
 the stile rappresentativo, and which contains so much 
 technical information for singers that it may well be 
 considered the first vocal method. Caccini's arie were 
 disseminated largely through his vocal pupils, for they 
 adapted themselves admirably to the beautiful Italian 
 style of singing of which he was one of the first masters. 
 We may mention incidentally that his daughter, Sep- 
 timia, became one of the famous singers of the period 
 and aroused the admiration of Monteverdi. Her sister, 
 Francesca, achieved distinction both as singer and com- 
 poser. 
 
 Caccini, though he was probably the first to use and 
 secure public acceptance of the arioso style, was — 
 despite his own claims — ^not the originator of the true 
 recitative. That distinction belongs to Jacopo Peri, a 
 more learned musician though a less genial person- 
 ality, who meantime had begun the application of 
 the representative style to the drama.* Corsi, the 
 successor of Bardi (now become papal chamberlain 
 
 * Jacopo Peri (b. Florence, Aug. 20, 1561, d. there Aug. 12, 1633) was a 
 pupil of Christoforo Malvezzi. He became chief director of music at 
 the court of Florence under Francesco, Ferdinand I and Cosimo II de 
 Medici. Besides his Dafne and Eurtdtce, he published Le varie musiche 
 del Sig. Jacopo Peri, etc. (1609), the recitatives for Monteverdi's Arianna, a 
 war-play (barrtera). La precedenza delle dame, and a part of Gagliano's 
 ojiera, ta Flora. 
 
 331 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 in Rome), as host and patron, was a close friend of the 
 poet Ottavio Rinuccini (d. 1623). Both were familiar 
 with the experiments of Cavalieri in the realm of 
 dramatic music. After joint deliberation, the two ap- 
 pealed to Peri 'to give a simple proof of the power 
 of modern music' by setting Rinuccini's dramatic poem 
 Dafne, a scene of which had already been experi- 
 mented with by Bardi. 'Remembering that it was a 
 question of dramatic poetry and that the melody must 
 at all times be modelled after the words,' Peri con- 
 cluded 'that the ancients employed musical forms 
 which, more elevated than ordinary speech yet less 
 regularly designed than common song melodies, were 
 half-way between the two.' In an effort to forget 
 every known style, he at first attempted to rediscover 
 the diastematica of the Greeks, the quarter-tone in- 
 terval, in the inflections of ordinary speech. Accord- 
 ing to his own testimony, he closely observed persons 
 speaking, so that he might reproduce as naturally as 
 possible their expressions, whether moderate or pas- 
 sionate. Thus he decided to have quiet expressions 
 sung in half -spoken tones over a resting instrumental 
 bass. In emotional moments, however, the voices pro- 
 ceeded in a more animated tempo and by larger in- 
 tervals instead of strictly conjunct motion, while the 
 accompaniment indulged in more frequently changing, 
 and sometimes dissonant, harmonies. In other words, 
 he used what we know to-day as recitative. 
 
 The importance of the principle thus introduced — 
 the preference of expressive quality to purely musical 
 effect — cannot be over-estimated. The germ of ro- 
 manticism itself lies in this departure, the elements 
 of Gluck's reform, of Wagner's creed, repose in the 
 assertion of Caccini that 'one is always beautiful when 
 one is expressive.' 
 
 Peri's Dafne, after charming the circle of intimates, 
 was performed at the house of Corsi one evening dur- 
 
 332 
 
THE "EXPRESSIVE' STYLE 
 
 ing the carnival of 1597, the composer singing the role 
 of Apollo, in the presence of the Grand Duke Ferdi- 
 nando de Medici, the cardinals dal Monte and Mon- 
 talto, the poets Piero Strozzi and Francesco Cini and 
 'a great number of gentlemen.' 'The pleasure and 
 the stupor which seized the audience is inexpressible,' 
 said Gagliano later in the preface to his own Dafne. 
 Every person there felt that he was in the presence 
 of a new art. Spurred on by this victory, Rinuccini 
 composed his Euridice for the festivities occasioned 
 by the marriage of Maria de Medici to Henri IV, king 
 of France, in 1600. Peri again wrote the music, though 
 at the performance, which took place on October 6 at 
 the Pitti palace, some of the nimibers of Caccini's 
 version (composed after Peri's) were substituted be- 
 cause of Caccini's influence with the singers. The title 
 role was sung by the famous Vittoria Archilei, 'the 
 Euterpe of Italy,' while Peri himself impersonated 
 Orpheus, The event not only aroused the greatest 
 enthusiasm among the distinguished assemblage, but 
 its echoes resounded through all the courts of Europe 
 and tremendously stimulated interest in the new art. 
 
 The score of Euridice has been reprinted in Florence 
 in 1863 and may be examined by the student. It con- 
 sists of 48 small octavo pages of simple recitative 
 dialogue written over a figured bass, interspersed with 
 five-part choruses in predominatingly diatonic har- 
 mony. The preface indicates that the figured bass was 
 executed by a clavier, a chitarrone, a lira grande and a 
 large flute (in one place a triflauto — triple flute — is 
 added), but it is not clear how the musicians managed 
 to produce effective harmony without written-out 
 parts. The impoverished quality of the music indi- 
 cates a distinct retrogression from the contrapuntal 
 compositions of the day, and vastly so when we con- 
 sider the a capella style of Palestrina. Its striking nov- 
 elty alone accounts for the extraordinary effect it had 
 
 333 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 upon the hearers. Its value was not in its intrinsic 
 quality but in the direction which it indicated, the path 
 which was to lead to untold riches of sound. 
 
 Following closely upon the heels of Peri's work 
 came the setting of the same poem by Caccini, who 
 had already produced II rapimento di Caffalo (1597, 
 performed 1600) ; Marco da Gagaliano (1575-1642) was 
 already at work along similar lines and in 1608 pro- 
 duced his Dafne at Mantua — one year after Monte- 
 verdi's 'Orfeo' which, however, marked so great an 
 advance that it might have been written a generation 
 later. Before discussing that master, it will be neces- 
 sary to consider the utilization of the representative 
 style in another field — that of the sacred drama or ora- 
 torio — ^by Emilio de' Gavalieri,* whose dramatic essays 
 in connection with Laura Guidicioni have already been 
 mentioned. 
 
 The origin of the oratorio is twofold: the prose 
 oratorio latino and the Italian oratorio volgare. The 
 former is derived from the mediaeval liturgical plays 
 already spoken of, and the 'mysteries' and 'morali- 
 ties' of the fifteenth century are clearly forerunners 
 of it. The oratorio volgare, a didactic poem inde- 
 pendent of scripture text, had its point of departure in 
 the esercizii spirituali (scriptural lessons), instituted 
 by the priest Filippo Neri (aftei-ward canonized) at 
 Rome. He became the founder of the congregation 
 of Oratorians, which regularly met for Bible study un- 
 der his leadership. On certain evenings of the week 
 his sermons were preceded and followed either by a 
 selection of popular hymns or by the dramatic ren- 
 dering of a biblical scene. From the place in which 
 these were first enacted, the oratory of the church of 
 
 * Emilio de' Gavalieri (or del Cavaliere) , b. ca. 1550 ; d. March 11th, 
 1662, in Rome, was, before his appointment at Florence, organist of the 
 Oratorio del S. Crucifflsso in S. Marcello (Rome). His earliest works are 
 madrigals, as we know from a reference to the "eighty-sixth, in six 
 parts," in his preface to the Rappresentazione. 
 
 334 
 
THE FIRST OPERAS 
 
 S. Maria in Vallicella, they received their name — Ora- 
 torio. 
 
 Just as the dramatic madrigal was built upon the 
 style of the secular madrigal, so these sacred dramas 
 probably modelled themselves after the 'spiritual' 
 madrigal. While Peri and Caccini were still engaged 
 in their experiments, Cavalieri, in 1600, staged in Neri's 
 oratory his most important creation La Rappresen- 
 tazione di anima e di corpo, slightly antedating Peri's 
 Euridice. Like that work, it was written in 'expres- 
 sive' style, of which Cavalieri may indeed have been 
 the real originator. Cavalieri's work belongs to the 
 province of sacred opera, being the first of this im- 
 portant branch of the music drama, which is further 
 represented by such works as Landis' S. Alessio (1637) 
 and MarazolU's allegorical opera La Vita humana 
 (1658). It is distinguished from the true non-scenic 
 oratorio, which is associated with the artistic person- 
 ality Carissimi. To show the distinction between his 
 work and that of Florentines, however, we quote the 
 criticism of his II Satiro, by Giovanni Battista Doni, 
 the historian of the Florentine monodists: 'It must, 
 however, be well understood,' he says, 'that these mel- 
 odies are very different from those of to-day (seven- 
 teenth century) which are written in the stile recitativo; 
 the others (of Cavalieri, etc.) are nothing but ariettas 
 with all sorts of artifices and repetitions, echoes and 
 other similar things, having nothing to do with the 
 good and true dramatic music. . . .' 
 
 On the other hand, Cavalieri's own instructions show 
 his wonderful practical knowledge in the performance 
 of opera, and give us an exact idea of the first operatic 
 theatre: 'The hall should not hold more than a thou- 
 sand spectators comfortably seated, in the greatest 
 silence. Larger halls have bad acoustics: they make 
 the singer force his voice and they kill expression. 
 Moreover, when the words are not understood the 
 
 335 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 music becomes tiresome. The number of instruments 
 must be proportioned to the place of performance. 
 The orchestra is invisible, hidden behind the drop. 
 The instrumentation should change according to the 
 emotion expressed. An overture, an instrumental and 
 vocal introduction, are of good effect before the cur- 
 tain rises. The ritornelle and sinfonie should be played 
 by many instruments. A ballet, or better a singing 
 ballet, should close the performance. The actor must 
 seek to acquire absolute perfection in his voice, 
 physique, gestures, bearing, and even his walk. He 
 should sing with emotion — as it is written — not one 
 passage like the other; and he must be careful to 
 pronounce his words distinctly, so that he may be 
 heard che siano intese. The chorus should not think 
 they are excused from acting when they do not have 
 to sing. They must feign to listen to what is going on; 
 they must occasionally change their places, rise, sit 
 down, make gestm-es. The performance should not 
 exceed two hours. . . . Three acts suffice and one 
 must be careful to infuse variety, not only into the 
 music but also the poem, and even the costumes. . . .' 
 'Gluck and Wagner,' says Romain RoUand, 'have 
 added little to these rules!' 
 
 Ill 
 
 The favolo in musica (it was not called opera as 
 yet) had taken root; its first tender shoots, delectable 
 morsels for a fastidious intellectual aristocracy, nur- 
 tured in the soil of princely patronage, had given evi- 
 dence of hardihood. But it was an exotic, a hot-house 
 plant, limited by its very nature to the homes of aris- 
 tocracy: in order to flourish and grow to noble pro- 
 portions it had to bathe in the sunlight of popular 
 favor; it required the care of a master, a genius who 
 
 336 
 
THE ORIGIN OF ORATORIO 
 
 substituted imagination for synthetic reason, intuition 
 for experiment. That master was Monteverdi. If the 
 works of Peri and Caccini smelt of the midnight oil, 
 there coursed in his creations the red' blood of hu- 
 manity. If their music was 'representative' of the 
 exact meaning of the word, attuned to the niceties of 
 accent and inflection, his portrayed the gamut of 
 hiunan passions, the soul itself, even at times violating 
 literary fidelity to reach that greater purpose. While 
 they had 'thrust upon them' the honor of creating a 
 new method of expression, he, the musical genius of a 
 century, could deliberately choose between the old and 
 the new — and he chose the new. 'With him the new 
 evolution began and the new edifice, hardly risen above 
 the ground, became a magnificent moniunent. Well 
 did he see what was lacking in the conception of the 
 Florentines: he understood that to fight successfully 
 against the resources of counterpoint new riches had to 
 be brought, diff'erent but equally valuable. His pro- 
 digious inventive genius discovered them: he found 
 them in harmony, in the expressive accent of the mono- 
 die chant and in the variety of instrumentation.' 
 
 Claudio Monteverdi (in old prints spelled Monte- 
 verde, though by himself as here) first saw the light 
 of the world at Cremona, in May, 1567. His father was 
 probably a physician, at any rate a man of culture, 
 who provided for his children an education far above 
 the average. Claudio gave early evidence of musical 
 talent and was placed under the tutelage of Marc' An- 
 tonio Ingegneri, the choirmaster of the cathedral and 
 musical arbiter in Cremona, with whom he studied 
 viola playing, singing and composition. Ingegneri was 
 a composer of genius; his Responsoria, published 
 anonymously, were for a long time ascribed to Pales- 
 trina, and, while worthy to be ranked with that com- 
 poser's, they contain harmonies and modulations 
 foreign to his style. 
 
 337 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Here, in the master's originality we seem to find the 
 explanation of his leniency toward his pupils' vagaries, 
 for Monteverdi from the first showed a most persistent 
 tendency to break the rules of counterpoint. He first 
 appears as composer at the age of sixteen, publishing 
 in 1583 his Madrigali spirituali for foiu* voices and 
 in the following year his Canzonette a tre voci, which 
 were full of irregularities and forbidden progressions. 
 His first book of five-part madrigals was brought out 
 in 1587 and it was evident that he was already reaching 
 out for realms unknown, though perhaps not yet equal 
 to the leap. An extraordinary addiction to dissonances, 
 frequent use of the seventh in suspensions, and a num- 
 ber of unpleasant progressions characterize these oth- 
 erwise beautiful madrigals, as well as the additional 
 collections, printed in 1590, 1592 and 1603; but they 
 nevertheless became popular, the last two going event- 
 ually through eight editions. 
 
 Meantime Monteverdi had become an able violist 
 and aroused attention to his playing in high quarters. 
 His virtuosity opened him the doors to the service of 
 Duke Vincenzo di Gonzaga at Mantua, whither he went 
 in 1590 as violist and singer. His modernist tendencies 
 aroused the opposition of local musicians, which, al- 
 ready evident when he became maestro di capella in 
 1602, broke out openly as the madrigals of his fifth 
 book, including the beautiful Cruda Amarilli, made 
 their appearance. These drew the fire of Giovanni 
 Maria Artusi, theoretician, and canonicus regulatis of 
 S. Salvatore, who attacked him in a polemic, 'On the 
 Imperfections of Modern Music' (1600), not mention- 
 ing his name, but quoting his newest compositions 
 (still in MS.) as examples. The attack is so amusing, 
 and its adherence to the perennial arguments of con- 
 temporary criticism so striking that we cannot refrain 
 from quoting it in part. 
 
 'Though I am glad to hear of a new manner of com- 
 
 338 
 
Claudio Monteverdi 
 
 After a contemporaneous portrait (artist unknown) 
 
CLAUDIO MONTEVERDI 
 
 position it would be more edifying to find in these 
 madrigals reasonable passagi, but this kind of air- 
 castles and chimeras deserves the severest reproof.' 
 Like all critics he cites the example of the masters: 
 Palestrina, Porta, Merulo, Gabrieli, Gastode, Lasso, 
 etc., whose works these 'moderns' should emulate, but 
 instead 'are content to concoct as great a noise as pos- 
 sible — a confused mixture of unrhjmiing things, and 
 mountains of imperfections.' 'Behold, for instance,' 
 he cries, 'the rough and uncouth passage in the third 
 example (by Monteverdi). After a rest the bass at- 
 tacks on a diminished fifth against the upper voice.' 
 Not after a consonance, mind you, as the masters have 
 done, but after a rest — and, as for sevenths unpre- 
 pared — ^preposterous ! 
 
 Monteverdi had had the temerity not only to use 
 the dominant seventh without 'preparation' accord- 
 ing to the established rules, but to use other disso- 
 nances, diminished and secondary sevenths, ninths and 
 elevenths in connection; he had introduced a freedom 
 in the movement of voices and a sequence of chords 
 the audacity of which still startles us to-day. 'Modern ! 
 Certainly he is modern by these tokens,' says Tiersot, 
 after hearing the Paris revival of Orfeo. 'But truly 
 and spontaneously has he made his discoveries, they 
 were so little searched for, that neither his contempo- 
 raries, nor his successors, perhaps not even himself, 
 have understood their value; and it has taken us cen- 
 turies to arrive at a true appreciation of their merit.' 
 
 Monteverdi replied to his critics (for the cry had 
 been taken up by others and the argument developed 
 into an open war) with the publication of his fifth book 
 of madrigals, containing all the criticized compositions 
 with not a note changed. He even travelled to Venice 
 to supervise the printing so as to insure accuracy. In 
 his preface he said that, having endeavored to express 
 emotions hitherto unexpressed in music, it was neces- 
 
 339 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 sary to invent new tone combinations. New har- 
 monies, moreover, required new modulations. He in- 
 sisted that more than one point of view is worthy of 
 consideration and advised the cognoscenti to study fur- 
 ther and learn 'that the modern composer builds upon 
 a foundation of truth.' These madrigals reached 
 eventually nine editions, were reprinted in Antwerp 
 and Copenhagen and spread their composer's fame 
 throughout Europe. 
 
 Moreover, Monteverdi stood in high favor with his 
 patron, a man of understanding who shared his an- 
 cestors' leaning to lavish patronage of the arts. He 
 accompanied Duke Vincenzo on his war expedition 
 to Hungary, when in 1595 he supported Rudolph II 
 against the Turks, and in 1599 went with him to 
 Flanders, whence he brought a new style of composi- 
 tion, the canto alia francese, which he afterwards 
 adopted in his Scherzi musicale a tre voci. 
 
 His domestic circumstances, however, were none too 
 favorable. He had married in 1595 Claudia Cattaneo, 
 the daughter of a violist and herself a singer at the 
 ducal court, where her salary even exceeded Monte- 
 verdi's meagre pay. She had borne him two sons and 
 existence became more and more difficult. In 1607 
 she was taken seriously ill, and continued hardship and 
 solicitude for his family spurred Monteverdi to com- 
 plaint, but without result. His duties were most oner- 
 ous, for besides directing the music at court he was 
 obliged to participate in the church service and the 
 many special performances which the duke's love of 
 festivities occasioned. 
 
 One of these occasions was the carnival of 1607, 
 when Vincenzo, familiar with the successes of Peri and 
 Caccini at Florence, determined to surpass them at 
 Mantua, and intrusted the preparation of the work to 
 Monteverdi. The result was the Favolo di Orfeo, the 
 text for which had been written by AUessandro Strig- 
 
 340 
 
CLAUDIO MONTEVERDI 
 
 gio, son of the famous madrigalist. It was performed, 
 first in the Academia degl Invaghite, and again, on 
 February 24th, and March 1st, in the ducal theatre. 
 Its success was enormous; the music aroused the most 
 profound admiration, as did also the book, which, by 
 order of the duke, was printed, so that the audience 
 might follow it during the performance. As Orfeo 
 is the only opera of Monteverdi preserved to us in its 
 entirety, we may examine the score in Robert Eitner's 
 edition with modern notation and the figured bass 
 harmonized, and so realize the tremendous advance 
 it shows, over Caccini's 'Euridice,' for instance (re- 
 printed in the same publication).* The style of the 
 recitative is similar, though it shows much greater 
 fluency, the harmonies are beyond all comparison 
 richer and more varied; dissonances, especially the 
 diminished seventh, being used with great dramatic 
 effect; suspensions and anticipations are particularly 
 frequent and there are many daring chromatic modula- 
 tions, such as from G# minor to G and from Eb major 
 to E, reminding of Wagner's use of these same progres- 
 sions. Instead of a simple figured bass we have in 
 the instrumental numbers at least a completely work- 
 ed-out harmonic structure, and for the first time instru- 
 ments are used in definite combinations with respect 
 to their various timbres. There is an agreeably varied 
 sequence of toccata (overture), recitative, arioso, ritor- 
 nelle, chorus and sinfonie (at ends of acts) ; in fact, we 
 find in Orfeo all the elements of the later opera, from 
 the instrumental introduction to the final movement, 
 even though in small proportions and of modest pre- 
 tentions. The ternary form, later so important, opens 
 its way here and there, i. e. in the first movement of 
 the second act. The great bravura aria is also repre- 
 sented and offers opportunity to the skillful singer to 
 exhibit his technique. (Sometimes the vocal part ap- 
 
 * Publikation dlterer praktischer und theoretischer Musikwerke, Vol. X. 
 
 341 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 pears in two ways; first in the simple unadorned form, 
 and directly under it in elaborate coloratura arrange- 
 ment, evidently leaving the choice to the singer.) The 
 orchestra instruments play together only in the instru- 
 mental numbers; in the choruses they simply double 
 the voice parts; but in accompanying the solo voices 
 the composer has made use of a curious device of as- 
 sociating the tone quality of a certain instrument or 
 group of instruments with each character. This is 
 indicated in the table of characters, which at the same 
 time shows the composition of Monteverdi's orchestra : 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 
 INSTRUMENTS 
 
 Music, prologue 
 
 
 Two gravicembani (similar to 
 spinets) 
 
 Orfeo 
 
 
 Two bass viols 
 
 Euridice 
 
 
 Ten violas 
 
 Chorus of nymphs 
 herds 
 
 and shep- 
 
 One double harp 
 
 Speranza 
 
 
 Two small French violins 
 
 Caronte (Charon) 
 
 
 Two chitaroni (zithers) 
 
 Chorus of infernal 
 
 spirits 
 
 Two organi di legno (small 
 pipe organs) 
 
 Proserpina 
 
 
 Three bassi da gcanba (large 
 viols) 
 
 Pluto 
 
 
 Four trombones 
 
 Apollo 
 
 
 One regale (reed organ) 
 
 Chorus of shepherds who 
 
 Two cornets, a flute alia viges- 
 
 dance the Moresca at the 
 
 ima seconda; a clarino 
 
 end 
 
 
 (small trumpet) and three 
 muted trumpets 
 
 This recognition of a psychological correspondence 
 between characters or situations and the timbre of in- 
 struments is interesting because it points the way to 
 the dramatic utilization of orchestra color. 
 
 Directly after Orfeo, Monteverdi produced his Ballo 
 delle Ingrate, a ballet scene in the manner of the usual 
 intermezzi. The arduous labor and nervous strain in- 
 cident to these performances forced upon him the 
 
 342 
 
CLAUDIO MONTEVERDI 
 
 necessity of a rest, which he spent in a visit to his 
 father's house at Cremona. There his wife, again 
 stricken, died, and, plunged into grief, he himself suc- 
 cumbed to illness. His income reduced to his own 
 earnings, he sent through his father an earnest appeal 
 to the duke for greater emolument, and, that denied, a 
 request to be released from further duty. But instead 
 he was speedily summoned to return, in order to pre- 
 pare a musical spectacle for the coming nuptials of the 
 heir apparent, Don Francesco, and Margherita, infanta 
 of Savoy. His financial condition was now slightly 
 improved and, spurred by the prospect of greater fame, 
 he plunged into the task of setting the music of a new 
 opera, Arianna, for which Rinuccini had been commis- 
 sioned to write the book. The work was to be staged 
 on a scale far beyond anything attempted till then, the 
 best singers available were engaged, and the rehearsals 
 occupied five months. It is interesting to note that 
 another opera, Tiede, by Gini and Peri, competed for 
 the honor of the performance at these festivities, but 
 was rejected in favor of Arianna. Peri was, however, 
 commissioned to write the recitatives for Arianna. 
 
 The performance took place May 28th, 1608. The 
 theatre, we are told by the official historian, FoUino, 
 was not large enough to accommodate all the nobles 
 visiting in the train of foreign princes and the natives 
 had to be denied admittance. While the play itself 
 made a deep impression, in the music Monteverdi had 
 surpassed himself. 'The orchestra behind the scenes,' 
 continues Follino, 'accompanied the beautiful voices 
 throughout, following the character of the singing most 
 faithfully. The lament of Arianna, abandoned by 
 Theseus, was performed with great feeling and pic- 
 tured so touchingly that all the auditors were pro- 
 foundly stirred and not a lady's eye remained tear- 
 less.' This 'Lament' afterwards became one of the 
 most popular pieces in Italy. After Cosimo II (de 
 
 343 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Medici) in 1613 obtained the score of Arianna from 
 the duke and performed it in Florence it was said 
 that the favorite selection was heard in every house 
 that contained a clavicembalo or a lute. 
 
 The sumptuous ballet Idropica, for which Monte- 
 verdi composed the prologue, was produced during the 
 same festivities. The succeeding period saw no 
 diminution in the output of this indefatigable com- 
 poser. In 1610 we see him in Rome suing for the favor 
 of Clement VIII, to whom he presents his ecclesi- 
 astical compositions, which were, however, inferior to 
 his secular works. In 1612 Duke Vincenzo died, and 
 Monteverdi resigned his post to accept the most coveted 
 musical office in Italy — that of choirmaster at St. 
 Mark's, Venice. His position there became the source 
 of the greatest satisfaction to him, for, aside from the 
 fact that he received three hundred ducats yearly, and 
 after 1616 four hundred, while finally his total income 
 increased to six hundred and fifty, he was honored and 
 esteemed better even than his illustrious predecessors, 
 Willaert, de Rore, Zarlino, etc. He enjoyed the title 
 of maestro di capella to the republic, brought the music 
 of St. Mark's, where he had a choir of thirty singers 
 and twenty instruments, to a high degree of perfection, 
 superintended the chamber music of the city as well 
 and earned the most general popular appreciation. 
 
 In 1621 he composed the music for a requiem in 
 memory of Duke Cosimo II of Tuscany, and from 
 Strozzi's enthusiastic description it was a most gor- 
 geous tone creation, better fitted for a theatre than a 
 church. Similarly in 1631 he was called upon to pro- 
 vide the music for a great thanksgiving in St. Mark's 
 after the terrible plague raging through Italy, and re- 
 sponded with a mass, in the Gloria and Credo of which 
 he introduced a trombone accompaniment. His crea- 
 tive power in the dramatic field remained unabated. 
 // Combattimento di Tancredi e Clorinda (half dram- 
 
 344 
 
CLAUDIO MONTEVERDI 
 
 atic, half epic, with narrative testo, connecting the 
 speeches), composed in 1624, was followed in 1627 by 
 La finta pazza Licori (by Strozzi and Striggio) and 
 five intermezzi for the marriage of Odoarde Farnese 
 at Parma, and in 1630 by Proserpina rapita. The first 
 public opera house in Venice, the Teatro di San Paolo, 
 and soon after the Teatro S. Giovanni e Paolo, for 
 which Monteverdi furnished L'Adone (1639), Le nozze 
 di Enea con Lavinio (1641) and II ritorno d' Ulisse in 
 patria, which last is preserved. Thus, even in his last 
 two years he was occupied on a series of operas, of 
 which L'Incoronazione di Poppea (1642) was his last 
 great effort. It might be added that his seventh book 
 of madrigals had appeared in 1619 and his eighth, the 
 famous Madrigali guerrieri et amorosi, in 1638. 
 
 In his Combattirhento Monteverdi introduced a new 
 effect, now familiar as the orchestral tremolo, which 
 so startled the musicians that at first they refused to 
 play it. His own explanation for its use is curious: 
 'I have recognized,' he says, 'that our passions or 
 emotions are expressed in three grades: anger (vio- 
 lence), temperate moderation, and humility or petition. 
 . . . These three grades are clearly reflected in music, 
 namely, in that of excited, tender, or moderate char- 
 acter {concitato, moHe e temperato).' Finding only 
 the two last represented in the older music, he studied 
 the question of spondeic and phyrric verse metre 
 which the Greeks had transferred to music. Taking 
 the semibreve (whole note) for the unit of the former, 
 he proposed to break it up into sixteen semicrom.es 
 (sixteenths), which are to be played in succession upon 
 one note to obtain the faster measure, which he calls 
 concitato (tremolo). 
 
 This is but one instance of how Monteverdi con- 
 stantly sought instructions from the ancients. In his 
 letters of 1633 and 1634 he tells of his labors to re- 
 discover human melody and the music of the passions. 
 
 345 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 He had no one to guide him, and no books but Plato. 
 The information which Galilei conveyed interested 
 him, but he was careful not to be misled by the phan- 
 tom of a lost art. He believed that in following his 
 own principles he would be more true to classic thought 
 than by trying to apply its formulas. He claimed that 
 modern art has profited more from a study of Greek 
 thought than from old-fashioned harmonic exercise. 
 Thus the ancients had rendered to music the same 
 service which the century before they had rendered to 
 sculpture. They had taken it out of the studied for- 
 mulas and had led artists back to the sole observation 
 of nature. 'Indeed, a real Renaissance opens at the 
 beginning of the seventeenth century with Monteverdi — 
 the Renaissance of the heart in the language of music' 
 
 Monteverdi's artistic creed and theories are to some 
 extent perpetuated in his Selva morale e spirituale, 
 dedicated to the Empress Elonora Gonzaga, and pub- 
 Ushed in 1640. Monteverdi died in Venice November 
 29, 1643, and was buried with great honors at the 
 Chiesa dei Frari. With his death we see opera finally 
 established in that place in the heart of the Italian 
 people which it has held to this day. Others had 
 already taken up the work, notably his pupil, Pietro 
 Francesco Cavalli, whose genius burst upon the world 
 in 1639 with his Nozze di Teti. 
 
 With the next generation the Florentine school di- 
 vides into the new Venetian school founded by Gio- 
 vanni Legrenzi (1635-1672), of which Antonio Lotti 
 was to become the leader, and the Neapolitan, which 
 found its guiding genius in AUessandro Scarlatti, one 
 of the most conspicuous musical figures of the seven- 
 teenth century. From him and his teacher Francesco 
 Provenzale {ca. 1669) there issued a long chain of 
 masters and pupils — ^Francesco Durante (1684-1755); 
 Leonardo Leo (1694-1744) ; Francesco Feo (1685-1740) ; 
 Gaetano Greco (b. 1680), etc. — who developed the Ital- 
 
 346 
 
CLAUDIO MONTEVERDI 
 
 ian opera in its narrowest sense — an opera that was 
 purely vocal, whose chief aim was the production of 
 beautiful melody and which paid a minimum of at- 
 tention to orchestration and dramatic pathos. It was 
 a purely musical school, and even more than that of 
 Venice removed from the ideal of the Florentines. 
 Against this school were ultimately to be directed the 
 reforms of Gluck, whose theories are solidly founded 
 upon the creed of Florence. Florence, then, is the true 
 cradle of opera, also in its more modern sense, for 
 the precepts there laid down have remained valid even 
 to Wagner and the music drama of to-day. 
 
 C. S. 
 
 347 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 NEW forms: vocal and instrumental 
 
 R£suin£ of the sixteenth century — Rhythm and form; the development 
 of harmony; figured bass — ^The organ style; canzona da sonar; ricercar; 
 toccata; sonata da chiesa; great organists — ^The genesis of violin music; 
 canzona and sonata — ^The sonata da camera; the suite — Music for the harp- 
 sichord — ^The opera in the seventeenth century; Heinrich SchUtz. 
 
 During the sixteenth century a style of music at- 
 tained perfection, and, as we have seen, two composers, 
 Palestrina and Orlando Lassus, put upon it the final 
 stamp of great personal genius. This style is known 
 as the vocal polyphonic style. The music was written 
 for choruses and for the most part was intended to be 
 sung without accompaniment. Centuries of endeavor 
 had gone to its development, during which composers 
 bore in mind first and always a great ideal — the com- 
 bination of many melodies in one euphonious whole. 
 The result was a texture of music so nicely woven that 
 in the mass of smooth flowing sound no one melody 
 was evident to the ear, though many melodies moved 
 simultaneously forward with seeming independence, 
 each crossing and recrossing the others, each free to 
 sustain a note while the others moved above and below 
 it, all coming at certain points to dwell together in rich 
 chords. Intended only for service in the church, it 
 was a music perfectly expressive of a rapt and exalted 
 state of religious devotion, from which had been ex- 
 pelled all the elements that might disturb and excite, all 
 harsh intervals, all suddenness, all lively rhythm. It 
 was woven about the Latin text of the mass and of 
 other rites and ceremonies of the church; but except 
 
 348 
 
RHYTHM AND FORM 
 
 for this connection with words it was without form and 
 unconflned. Without rhythm and without symmetrical 
 form — the very foundations upon which most music 
 rests — ^it seems like an edifice floating in mid-air, with- 
 out foundation, ethereal, mystical, and perfect. Such 
 a music could indeed be brought no further after Pal- 
 estrina and Lassus; but it left to the world a model of 
 polyphonic technique which was to aid in the develop- 
 ment and enrichment of subsequent music, and which 
 has had an indirect influence upon every great com- 
 poser since that time. 
 
 The last years of the sixteenth century gave evi- 
 dence of a rebellion from the laws of polyphonic tech- 
 nique; yet the musicians are at first not so much ac- 
 tuated by a feeling of rebellion against this established 
 form as by an enthusiasm for other kinds of music, 
 which, during the centuries when all musicians gave 
 their most serious thought to the development of po- 
 lyphony, had been more or less neglected — ^kinds of 
 music in which solo melody and rhythm play a part. 
 Peri, Caccini, Cavalieri, and the other brilliant young 
 men who, just before the turn of the century, composed 
 music in a so-called new style, are not inventors of any- 
 thing new, but experimenters with the simple kind of 
 music which must have endured among the people 
 through all the civilized ages of man. They sought to 
 raise simple song into an art, and their experiments 
 turned the attention of all men to those branches of 
 music which had for centuries been considered beneath 
 the dignity of serious effort. At the start, spurred on 
 by the desire to restore the combination of music and 
 poetry which had been practised by the Greeks, they 
 became intoxicated by the sheer beauty of the human 
 voice in single melody, and by the ever further discov- 
 ery of the power of music to express live, poignant, 
 human emotions beyond the ascetic rapture of religious 
 devotion. Indeed, the desire to express new emotions 
 
 349 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 in melody and harmony and the sensuous delight in 
 sound are the main causes of the remarkable develop- 
 ments of the seventeenth century which not only pro- 
 duced a new form of vocal music completely secular 
 and independent of the church, though still bound to 
 words, but also firmly established instrumental music 
 untrammelled by words or adherence to text, beautiful 
 and noble in itself alone. 
 
 Inasmuch as the marvellously perfect technique of 
 writing polyphonic choruses for voices was suited only 
 to the expression of the vague ecstasy which had 
 formed it, composers were forced to invent a new 
 technique and a new style of writing. The ways by 
 which they arrived at this new style form the subject 
 of this chapter. It will be seen that certain ones built 
 directly upon the polyphonic style, that others devel- 
 oped solo melody and the solo adorned and elaborated 
 by many devices; and that it was by a union of the 
 two ways that at last the new style was made worthy 
 and sufficient. 
 
 At the beginning of the century music was, so to 
 speak, taken out of the church and set, free and weak, 
 into the open world. At once social fashion seized 
 upon it. Opera, for instance, became almost at once 
 the fashion of the day. From the opening of the first 
 public opera house in Venice in 1637 opera composers 
 had to write their music with regard to popular suc- 
 cess, in other words, with regard to what the public 
 wanted; and since the pubUc came soon to worship 
 the human voice even more than the music, the com- 
 poser and his works were often at the mercy of the 
 reigning favorite singer. Moreover, in the course of 
 the century, a race of virtuosi sprang into prominence, 
 men who thrilled and electrified by display of technical 
 
 350 
 
RHYTHM AND FORM 
 
 skill, and won the public by amazement. Music which 
 is written only with the aim of giving the performer 
 a chance to exhibit technical skill cannot be adjudged 
 great music, nor even good music; yet the influences of 
 attempts at virtuosity were of inestimable value to the 
 growth of music in the seventeenth century, and in- 
 deed have been so at all times, though they often ap- 
 pear a fruitless, hollow sham. For the virtuoso dis- 
 covers the utmost capabilities of his instrument and 
 thereby widens the field of composition. In the sev- 
 enteenth century, and in the eighteenth as well, the 
 composer and the virtuoso were one. 
 
 As we have already seen, in the church music of Pal- 
 estrina and Lassus there was no active rhythm. The 
 recurrence of regular beats was as far as possible dis- 
 guised to avoid the excitement which a persistent, 
 marked rhythm must convey upon an audience, and 
 which is out of place in the mystical rites of the church. 
 But in the seventeenth century composers of vocal 
 music made more and more use of marked rhythm as 
 a means of conveying emotional excitement; and in- 
 stnunental composers, finding out little by little how 
 lifeless music for instruments was when not animated 
 by rhythm, made rhythm more and more persistent and 
 obvious in their work. Along with the recognition of 
 the life-giving power of rhythm came the appreciation 
 of clearly balanced structural form, which is only a 
 broader kind of rhythm. 
 
 Melody, rhythm, and symmetrical form seem to us 
 the very essentials of music. It must be ever a source 
 of wonder that for centuries musicians gave themselves 
 to the development of a style of music which deliber- 
 ately suppressed them. Yet those very musicians whose 
 long labors are summed up and glorified in the works 
 of Palestrina and Lassus laid the foundation upon 
 which the art of modern music has been built. The 
 polyphonic style, animated by rhythm and molded to 
 
 351 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 melody, became counterpoint, which, though in a sense 
 the 'mathematics' of music and in the hands of an un- 
 inspired composer as dry as dust, is none the less the 
 very essence of the art; and in the hands of a master 
 the power and glory of man's mind in music. We shall 
 see it prepared in the course of the century for the 
 hands of perhaps the greatest of all composers, John 
 Sebastian Bach. 
 
 Spreading gradually through all the music of the 
 century came the new warm force of harmony. In the 
 works of Palestrina and Lassus the appreciation of 
 chords is often evident; but the attention of both was 
 mainly centred upon the interweaving of many mel- 
 odies, and for the most part the chords which resulted 
 from the simultaneous sounding of many voice parts 
 were not regarded in relation to each other, nor 
 planned beforehand in a definite progression. The flow 
 of the various parts was theoretically never directed 
 nor influenced by an harmonic plan. Moreover, the 
 vocal polyphony was written in the various types of 
 scales known as the ecclesiastical modes, types which 
 owed their peculiar characteristics to the position of 
 the semi-tone steps within the octave. A change in the 
 course of a piece from one mode to another — a modu- 
 lation as we should say to-day — was most rarely ven- 
 tured. In other words, there was no change of key. 
 The practice of raising or lowering notes in the scales 
 by sharps and flats in order to avoid harsh dissonances, 
 or to let parts glide by the interval of a semi-tone into 
 the chords of cadences, which practice was called 
 musica ficta, had by the middle of the sixteenth century 
 softened the rigor of the modes; yet during the first 
 half of the seventeenth century the modes were still 
 held to differ from each other in aesthetic qualities, and 
 composers were still under the sway of the laws which 
 governed them. The modes broke down gradually, it 
 is true, and traces of their influence arie found late in 
 
 352 
 
DEVELOPMENT OF HARMONY 
 
 the seventeenth century; but by the end of the century 
 they had practically given way to the major and minor 
 keys upon which our greatest music has been based. 
 The subtleties of the modes were artificial. The popu- 
 lar music of the Middle Ages shows an instinctive choice 
 of modes nearest our present-day major and minor 
 scales. 
 
 The enthusiasm for melody in the seventeenth cen- 
 tury at first allowed to an accompaniment only simple 
 chords, to be played by lute or spinet, which very soon 
 came to be regarded as harmonic progressions. These 
 chords were not the result of the interweaving of vari- 
 ous melodies, but were entities in themselves, and 
 came to be appreciated as such. Freed from the laws 
 of counterpoint and calculated to aid in the expression 
 of keen emotion, sudden unprepared dissonances found 
 their place in music. Chords were contrasted, their 
 beauty and power were perceived, and they were stud- 
 ied and used for themselves. Moreover, it became the 
 custom to play a few chords as prelude to an instru- 
 mental piece, and out of this custom there grew up in 
 the course of the century a type of instrumental music 
 called a Prelude, which was hardly more than an elab- 
 orate series of chords broken up in arpeggios, of which 
 no finer example can be mentioned than the first pre- 
 lude in Bach's 'Well-tempered Clavichord.' Thus the 
 rich beauty of harmony came into music, the most 
 subtle, the most colored, and the most profound of her 
 expressions. 
 
 Perhaps the most characteristic mark of the new 
 school of composition, and one which points sugges- 
 tively to the way in which harmony developed, is the 
 employment of what is known as a Figured Bass. The 
 voice parts of the great polyphonic masterpieces were 
 often printed separately, rarely together in one score; 
 but the first operas were printed in score on two staffs, 
 on the upper of which the melody was recorded, and 
 
 353 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 on the lower a single bass part, with figures and sharps 
 and flats written under the notes to indicate the chords 
 of which these notes were the foundation and which 
 constituted the accompaniment. The origin of this 
 Figured Bass is doubtful. It is possibly the result of 
 the endeavors of Italian organists in the sixteenth cen- 
 tury to free themselves from the task of playing those 
 pieces written in the old style from a number of sepa- 
 rately printed parts. Whatever its origin, it was per- 
 fectly suited to the monodists and to those who during 
 the century wrote in the new style. It is indicative of 
 the way composers centred all their interest in the mel- 
 ody, leaving the details of the accompaniment to the 
 discretion and the taste of the accompanist, thought of 
 in this case as a single player, using lute, harpsichord, 
 organ, or any instrument upon which chords could be 
 played. Evidently only a most simple accompaniment 
 was expected, one which merely supported the melody 
 with chords and attempted little or no contrapuntal 
 intricacies. In cases where the accompaniment was 
 given to a number of instruments the Figured Bass still 
 served only for the instrument which could play 
 chords, though the single notes of it might be rein- 
 forced by an instrument of low range such as the viol. 
 For the other instruments which were to enrich the 
 harmonies and add touches of orchestral color special 
 parts were written. So the harpsichord became the 
 centre of the group of accompanying instruments, and 
 later the centre of the orchestra, apart from opera, 
 supplying the harmonic basis of the music in solid 
 chords. It continued to hold its central place until at 
 the end of the next century Gluck took a definite stand 
 against it 
 
 The bass part itself was at first considered only as 
 the foundation of the harmonies of the accompani- 
 ment. It was not, therefore, an independent melody, 
 and was not planned in any contrapuntal relation with 
 
 354 
 
THE FIGURED BASS 
 
 the melody above it. But before the end of the first 
 decade of the century composers began to give it move- 
 ment and a character of its own, sometimes treating it 
 in definite contrapuntal relation with the melody. 
 Thus early did the composers of the new school turn 
 to the science of counterpoint for aid in the construc- 
 tion of their music; thus early began the new and the 
 old to work together. 
 
 The Figured Bass is significant, not only of the way 
 composers came to an appreciation of the value of an 
 harmonic foundation in music, and of how counter- 
 point came to the aid of the new music when it was 
 leaden and uninteresting; it points also to the slow 
 development of the orchestra, of the skill to write for 
 groups of instruments in such a way that they could 
 stand independently without the bolstering of the harp- 
 sichord or the organ. The orchestral style proper is 
 the most complex style in music and was the slowest 
 to develop. The employment of the Figured Bass is 
 evidence of the inability of composers to master it 
 during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 
 
 II 
 
 Yet though the composers of the seventeenth century 
 were unable to master the problem of the orchestra, 
 their accomplishments in the development of instru- 
 mental music, especially of music for small groups of 
 string instruments, were most important. The achieve- 
 ments of the organists may be considered first, because 
 in them the tradition of the polyphonic style most evi- 
 dently perseveres, and because they were the first to 
 develop a suitable instrumental style. The organ had 
 been used in the churches from very early times and 
 had been little by little improved until by the middle 
 of the sixteenth century it was capable of great power 
 
 355 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of tone and of some beauty and delicacy as well. Dur- 
 ing the sixteenth century music for the organ had been 
 cultivated by three great Venetian organists, Andrea 
 Gabrieli (1510-1586), Claudio Merulo (1533-1604), and 
 Giovanni Gabrieli (1557-1612), nephew and pupil of 
 Andrea. All three were world famous in their day, 
 and men came from Germany, France, and England to 
 hear them play and to study with them. The organs in 
 St. Mark's cathedral were among the finest in Europe. 
 Venice was brilliantly to the fore in music, and these 
 three great organists were in the very front ranks of 
 innovators. If their music sounds to us antiquated 
 now it is because it was hardly in the power of three 
 men in the span of half a century to develop a style of 
 music for the organ which would be suited to its spe- 
 cial qualities. It must not be forgotten that serious 
 musicians had given relatively little thought to instru- 
 mental music, and had spent their lives in the perfect- 
 ing of a style in vocal music. These three pioneers in 
 organ music, therefore, had first to discover what sort 
 of music sounded well on the organ. The problems 
 were difficult, for not only was there the question of 
 instrxunental style, but likewise the question of form, 
 since instrumental music, deprived of the continuity 
 of a text to hold it in some measure together, must be 
 wrought into definite form or else remain an inartistic 
 chaos of sound. It can hardly be said that these early 
 organists invented any clear self-sufficient forms. In 
 fact, all form had to wait until the harmonic idea was 
 clear in men's minds, until the middle of the next cen- 
 tury. In the collections of their works are to be found 
 ricercari, canzone da sonar and toccatas; but none of 
 these has definite form. The ricercar was a piece in 
 polyphonic imitative style, of serious character, an- 
 cestor of the instrumental fugue but very strongly 
 bound to the vocal style of the day. It differed from 
 the fugue in that it presented no clear so-called second 
 
 356 
 
THE ORGAN STYLE 
 
 subject as foil or play-fellow to the main subject; and, 
 moreover, in that there was even no consistent main 
 subject throughout the piece, but a rambling from one 
 to another suggested by it, and so on. Rhythm was 
 indeterminate and frequently changing and there was 
 little suggestion of a definite metrical structure of 
 formal significance. 
 
 The canzona was originally no more than an ar- 
 rangement for the organ of a secular song in polyph- 
 onic style, of the kind made popular in France in 
 the period of the ars nova. (See Chap. IX.) The 
 characteristic feature of these songs or chansons was 
 a division of the music, following the stanzas of the 
 poem, into several sections or strophes, some of which 
 were in polyphonic style, others in simple 'note for note' 
 harmony; and in working them over for the organ com- 
 posers maintained the division. We shall see how com- 
 posers for other instruments worked upon the same 
 plan, and how in this plan lies the germ from which 
 was to spring one of the so-called cyclic forms of music 
 — a piece in several distinct movements, called sonata 
 da chiesa, which was one of the direct ancestors of the 
 symphony. However, in the early conzona there was 
 no actual splitting up into movements, but only a series 
 of rather distinct sections within the one movement 
 differing from each other in style and rhythm. The 
 organists used the canzona with rather more lightness 
 than they ever displayed in the treatment of the ricer- 
 car, and in an attempt to animate and vary the simple 
 song parts they hit upon not a few of those devices of 
 ornamentation which came to play a great part in 
 instrumental music of the eighteenth century. Andrea 
 Gabrieli's canzona, Un gai berger, is an excellent ex- 
 ample of the type, while the connection with its proto- 
 type is still distinct. Though there is a canzona for or- 
 gan by Bach, the form never developed in organ music 
 to any very great importance. It was assimilated on 
 
 357 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the one hand by the ricercar and on the other by the 
 more brilliant toccata. 
 
 The toccata was from the first a piece for display, 
 and more than any other called the suitable organ 
 style into being. The early toccatas might be called 
 ventures in virtuosity. In them composers broke free 
 little by little from the slow moving vocal style. They 
 discovered how much more rapidly their fingers could 
 move than voices could sing, and they learned to leap 
 and run, so to speak, and gave over once for all the 
 slow pace of the vocal style, which, admirably suited to 
 voices, is intolerably heavy and dull upon instruments. 
 The first attempts amounted to little more than rapid 
 running of scales over a foundation of uninteresting 
 chords; but by the end of the sixteenth century the 
 chords had become more interesting and other runs 
 than simple scales had been developed. 
 
 Two men especially are important in the history of 
 organ music of the first half of the seventeenth century, 
 Peter Sweelinck in Amsterdam and Girolamo Fresco- 
 baldi in Rome, the one commonly accepted as the first 
 of the school of great organists of northern Europe, 
 the other strongly influential in forming the style of the 
 organists of southern Germany. The best of the north- 
 em and southern schools came to be united in John Se- 
 bastian Bach, the greatest of all organists, for whose 
 music, therefore, Sweelinck and Frescobaldi may be 
 said to have laid foundations. Both were daring, bril- 
 liant performers and equally bold and venturesome 
 composers. Sweelinck was organist at the old church 
 in Amsterdam from about 1581 to the year of his 
 death, 1621; and Frescobaldi, considerably younger, 
 organist at St. Peter's in Rome from 1608 to 1628, and 
 again later in life. In both cities crowds flocked to the 
 churches whenever these great men played. 
 
 Of Sweelinck's music that has been preserved a great 
 part shows strongly the influence of the early Venetian 
 
 358 
 
GREAT ORGANISTS 
 
 organists, but as might be expected he goes beyond 
 them in instrumental effects; and in serious works, not 
 calculated merely to display the skill of the virtuoso, he 
 really creates a definite fugue form, independent of 
 vocal style, animated and impressive. As a performer 
 he was excited to experiments in effects which often 
 led him into meaningless passage work, striking per- 
 haps in his day, but to our ears childish and quite lack- 
 ing in musical worth. But his influence was long felt 
 and was the incentive to ever bolder and bolder efforts 
 to expand the range of organ technique. 
 
 The younger Italian was no less daring, but seems 
 to have been gifted with more sensitive instinct. He 
 never offends by empty display; his style is consis- 
 tently higher than that of any other organist of his 
 day. His advance over his predecessors is most marked 
 in his use of animated rhythmical subjects which he 
 developed more often in genuine fugal style with an- 
 swering counter subject and logical balanced form 
 than in the aimless style of the older ricercar. More- 
 over, the passage work in his toccatas is built upon 
 chord progressions which are very nearly free of the 
 old modal restrictions and which are impressive in 
 themselves and of genuine musical worth. Among 
 works published in his lifetime are a set of fantasias 
 (1608), all but three of which are in ricercar style, a 
 set of toccatas (1614), a set of ricercari (1615), which 
 show a marked improvement in construction over 
 earlier works, a second book of toccatas in 1627, and 
 in 1635 the most famous of all his works, the Fiori 
 musicali, which contained pieces in all styles known at 
 that time. 
 
 Among his pupils was the brilliant Saxon wanderer, 
 John Jacob Froberger, who was for many years organ- 
 ist at the court of Vienna, for four years in Rome, two 
 in Paris, later in London under romantic circumstances 
 of which he has himself left an account, and still again 
 
 359 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 in the Netherlands, in Halle, in Vienna, and in France, 
 where he died in 1657. In the work of such a man 
 many influences are of course evident, but in his organ 
 compositions that of Frescobaldi is most consistent, 
 and thus the style of the Italian passes over into Ger- 
 man usage. 
 
 After the death of Frescobaldi the importance of 
 organ music in Italy steadily declined, but in Germany, 
 both north and south, it grew steadily greater. It was 
 built up on the foundations laid by the Italians them- 
 selves and by Sweelinck, who was strongly under the 
 influence of the Italians; but there entered into it an 
 element of purely German nature, the Protestant 
 Chorale. These noble, expressive old melodies, though 
 of varied origin — some sprung from the old plain-song 
 melodies of the Roman ritual, others from the folk 
 songs of the people — ^had become the religious folk 
 song of the German Protestant. Upon them organists 
 constructed a singularly lofty and expressive form of 
 music known as the Chorale Prelude, which combined 
 with the polyphonic skill — the remodelled heritage of 
 the old masters — the genuine serious feeling of the 
 chorale. As the name implies, the chorale prelude was 
 played by the organist before the congregation sang 
 the chorale, and might be regarded as the organist's 
 prologue inspired by a musical text. Two kinds of the 
 prelude were developed to a high state of musical ex- 
 cellence at the end of the seventeenth century. In one 
 the chorale melody was treated in flowing contrapuntal 
 style, appearing now in long notes, now in short, woven 
 into a smooth texture of sound; in the other the melody 
 was often brilliantly adorned with trills and turns and 
 was made to stand boldly forth over an accompani- 
 ment which often presented a vigorous counter subject 
 and which was filled with the most striking and daring 
 devices of the virtuoso. The former was more in keep- 
 ing with the spirit of the south German organists; one 
 
 360 
 
GREAT ORGANISTS 
 
 of whom, Johann Pachelbel,* a Nuremberger, devel- 
 oped it richly. The other was fostered by the vigorous 
 daring organists of the north, among whom the Dane, 
 Dietrich Buxtehude,t stands out most conspicuously. 
 We shall see later how much Sebastian Bach was in- 
 fluenced by these two great organists. 
 
 At the end of the seventeenth century organ music 
 was independent of vocal style. Free of the old church 
 modes, built solidly upon an impressive, harmonic 
 foundation, animated by strong rhythm and varied by 
 a thousand devices of virtuosity which had their being 
 in the nature of the instrument itself, it makes evident 
 the great changes which had come into music during 
 the century. On the other hand, the general employ- 
 ment of a polyphonic style, for which the organ is of 
 all instruments the best suited, and which moreover is 
 in keeping with the dignity and noble solemnity of the 
 instrument, shows the perseverance of those high prin- 
 ciples of musical composition which had been first 
 established and glorilBed in the vocal works of Pales- 
 trina and Lassus. And in the forms of Prelude, Toc- 
 cata, Fugue, and Choral Prelude composers had found 
 suitable forms in which their musical ideas could 
 stand, apart from a text and self-sufficient as absolute 
 music. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Inasmuch as the organ was the instrument for which 
 the most suitable style was clearly to be found in a 
 modification of the old vocal polyphony, organist- 
 composers were spared much of the difficulty which 
 hindered composers who strove to write for other in- 
 struments, or for combinations of instruments. We 
 have seen that organ music, set upon its way by the 
 
 *B., Nfirnberg, 1653; d. there, 1706. See Vol. XI. 
 tB., Helsingor, 1637; d. 1707. See Vol. XI. 
 
 361 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Italians, was dropped by them before the middle of 
 the century. All their interest in instrmnental music 
 came very early in the century to be centred upon mu- 
 sic for the violin and instruments of that family. This 
 is due to the fact that during that century there arose 
 in northern Italy families of violin makers who, se- 
 lecting generally the least clumsy of the types of bowed 
 instruments, and particularly the violin, with marvel- 
 lous workmanship and natural endowment of instinc- 
 tive skill, developed them into instruments of a sweet- 
 ness, flexibility, and power of expression which can be 
 rivalled only by the human voice. The names of these 
 violin makers have long been famous in the world, and 
 neither their skill nor their success has ever since been 
 matched. The first of them was Gasparo da Salo of 
 Brescia, who worked in the last half of the sixteenth 
 century and a little way into the seventeenth. Work- 
 ing a little later in Brescia was Paolo Maggini. The 
 centre of the industry soon shifted to the town of Cre- 
 mona, and it is in the list of the Cremonese makers 
 that we find the names of the Amati family, of whom 
 the last and most famous was Nicolo (d. 1648); the 
 Guarneri family, of whom the last and greatest was 
 Joseph, who lived far into the eighteenth century; and 
 the great name of Antonio Stradivari, who, born about 
 1644, lived until 1737. The violin itself was in use early 
 in the century, mostly as soprano in a group of viols. 
 The rapid and remarkable perfection of it, however, 
 soon attracted almost the exclusive attention of com- 
 posers; and it was thus raised from a minor role in a 
 group of instruments to be the head of all instruments. 
 The earliest attempts of Italian composers to write 
 violin music were singularly childish and unsuccessful, 
 and in most cases they seem stupidly against the sim- 
 plest principles of instrumental music. But one must 
 not forget that the only art of composition which had 
 been developed to a technical excellence was the art of 
 
 362 
 
THE GENESIS OF VIOLIN MUSIC 
 
 vocal polyphony, and that the only skill the first instru- 
 mental composers had to bring to writing music for 
 their instruments was the skill which they had acquired 
 in the study of polyphonic choruses. We have seen 
 that the early organ composers worked upon the same 
 plan, but whereas a polyphonic style is essentially suit- 
 able to the organ, and the m.odifications of the vocal 
 style necessary to convert it into a style for the organ 
 suggested themselves naturally and obviously, the in- 
 strumental composers were face to face with a far 
 more illusive problem. They progressed by much the 
 same steps as the organists, but noticeably more 
 slowly. 
 
 The form in which most of the earlier attempts were 
 cast was the canzona. This, as we have already seen in 
 organ music, was modelled upon the form of the French 
 chanson of the sixteenth century, and its characteristic 
 feature was a division into several short sections not 
 actually cut off from each other, yet differing quite dis- 
 tinctly both in rhythm and in treatment; some being 
 in the polyphonic style, others in a style of simple 
 chords. The number of instruments might vary from 
 four to sixteen, but the majority of early canzonas 
 were written for four instruments, usually of the viol 
 type. In a collection of canzonas published in Venice 
 in 1608 there is one, however, written for eight trom- 
 bones, and another for sixteen. The number of little 
 sections in the canzona also varied. The tendency at 
 first was toward a great many, ten or twelve; but with 
 the general development of instrumental style came 
 the lengthening of the sections and a consequent re- 
 duction of their number. 
 
 A typical canzona of this period is one for four in- 
 struments by Giovanni Battista Grillo.* It is made up 
 of ten sections. The first, in common time, is but seven 
 measures long, and is in the style of the ricercar, i. e. 
 
 * See Riemann : Handbuch der Masikgeschichte, IP, p. 127. 
 
 363 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 built upon an imitation of short motives. The second 
 section is in triple time, in the general style of a gal- 
 liard, a dance form of the time, and is eleven measures 
 long. The third section is again in common time and 
 in the style of a ricercar, and is twenty measures long. 
 The fourth has ten measures, in the slow common time 
 of the pavan; the fifth, eight measures in the triple time 
 of the galliard; the sixth, six measures in the style of 
 the pavan; the seventh, thirteen measures in galliard 
 style. The eighth and ninth are repetitions of the first 
 and second, and the whole series is brought to a close 
 by a short coda of five measures. Those sections which 
 are in polyphonic style are more or less closely related 
 to each thematically. It will be observed that, of the 
 ten sections, seven are made up of an irregular num- 
 ber of measures and cannot give to our ears an impres- 
 sion of rhythmical structure. One should notice, too, 
 the return of the first two sections at the end, which 
 gives some primitive balance to the little piece as a 
 whole. 
 
 The obvious weakness in such a form of movement 
 lies in the division into so many little sections, no one 
 of which is long enough to claim the serious attention 
 of a listener. True enough, the early works of the in- 
 strumental composers show very few rhythmically 
 animated themes which could suggest any consider- 
 able treatment and development; but in the few cases 
 where such themes do appear there is not space enough 
 in a section for the composer to do anything with them, 
 and they drop out of the piece almost as soon as they 
 have awakened in the listener the desire to hear more 
 of them. 
 
 The natural development was toward the extension 
 of the section, therefore, until each made the impres- 
 sion of a definite and well-balanced whole; and from 
 that it was but a step to cutting off the sections one 
 from the other by pauses. That is what happened. 
 
 364 
 
CANZONA AND SONATA 
 
 The canzona grew from a movement in many little 
 sections to the ripe form of a piece in four distinct 
 movements to which by the middle of the century was 
 given the name sonata da chiesa. Among the first to 
 write sonatas of this type was Giovanni Legrenzi, who 
 published a set of them in 1655. Legrenzi is one of the 
 most gifted composers of the time, not only of operas, 
 in connection with which his name is most often heard, 
 but of instrumental music as well, of which the sonatas 
 just mentioned are excellent examples. The last of 
 them is well planned and interesting throughout. The 
 first movement is an excellent well-knit fugue, built 
 upon a definite rhythmical subject against which two 
 interesting and varied counter subjects are set. All 
 these subjects have vigor and distinct individuality, 
 and they are treated with a skill which is proof of 
 Legrenzi's instinct for the instrumental style. The sec- 
 ond movement is in the dignified rhythm of the sara- 
 bande, a dance form of the day; the third is a short 
 adagio, leading to the last, which is lively and rapid, 
 but rather loose in structure, recalUng the old-style 
 ricercar. 
 
 However, the sonatas of Legrenzi are often in more 
 than four movements, and the credit of giving the 
 sonata da chiesa its definite and lasting form belongs 
 to Giovanni Battista Vitali, in whose collection of them, 
 published in 1667, there is at last a regularity of plan 
 in the number and arrangement of movements. The 
 scheme is practically tri-partite. There are two fast 
 movements in common time and in fugal style, one at 
 the beginning and one at the end; and between them a 
 movement generally in simple harmonic style and in 
 triple time. There are also a few very slow measures 
 either before or after the middle movement or at the 
 beginning of the sonata as introduction to the first fast 
 movement. The two fast movements are frequently in 
 thematic relation to each other. Here we have the 
 
 365 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 form made ready for the later masters, of which we 
 shall see them make use. Compared with the canzona 
 of the first half of the century, Vitali's work shows a 
 striking, sudden advance, not only in clearness of form, 
 but in instrumental style. Not much is known of his 
 Ufe, but his works show that he was a player of bril- 
 liant skill, one of the first of the virtuoso violin com- 
 posers. 
 
 Though the sonata da chiesa was descended directly 
 from the old canzona da sonar and is therefore con- 
 nected with the old music, it was greatly affected on 
 the way by influences not remotely connected with the 
 old polyphonic style. In the preceding pages it has 
 been shown how the cultivation of the monodic style 
 led to the cultivation of the technique of the human 
 voice. Already in the works of Caccini, himself a 
 great singer, there appear passages for the solo voice 
 intended to show off its flexibility and technique. The 
 influence of the monodic style made itself felt at once 
 in violin music, and prompted the cultivation of a 
 form of solo music which had little or nothing to do 
 with the polyphonic canzona. No pieces have come 
 down to us from the first ten years of the century which 
 were written for the violin alone with accompaniment 
 of Figured Bass for lute or harpsichord; but there are 
 many written for two violins, which, in that they play 
 seldom together but pursue a sort of dialogue in music, 
 may be said to belong to the monodic style. The early 
 pieces in this manner are under the influence of the 
 new vocal style. Passages of any lively movement are 
 written after the manner of Caccini's newly discovered 
 vocal agilities. 
 
 But very soon the suitable violin style began to make 
 its appearance, and we come across passages which 
 could not have been sung, but which were suggested 
 by the nature of the instrument for which they were 
 intended. The early efforts were called sonatas. Like 
 
 366 
 
THE SONATA DA CHIESA 
 
 the canzona, they were given special names, for ex- 
 ample, Salvatore Rossi's sonata on the air of the Ro- 
 manesca, and another on the air of Ruggiero, both of 
 which are no more than a series of variations over two 
 melodies both well known in their day. The practice 
 of composing variations over a bass part which re- 
 mained unchanged or was only very slightly adorned 
 in a few cases and was called a ground bass or basso 
 ostinato, was most common throughout the entire sev- 
 enteenth century. No manner of securing an effect of 
 form and symmetry could have been simpler, and no 
 other form could have spurred composers more effec- 
 tively toward the discovery of trills, turns, runs, and 
 other ornaments within the power of instruments as a 
 very means of saving themselves from the deadly mo- 
 notony of a few phrases reiterated inexorably again 
 and again in the bass. That the practice even of ex- 
 temporizing variations — or divisions, as they were 
 called — on a ground bass was much in vogue, as the 
 improvisation of descant over the cantus firmus was in 
 the early days of church polyphony, is witnessed by 
 the famous work of the English musician, Christopher 
 Sympson, entitled, the 'Division Violist,' which ap- 
 peared in 1659, and which was intended to teach the 
 art. Sympson says, 'A Ground, subject, or bass, call it 
 what you please, is pricked down in two several 
 papers, one for him who is to play the Ground upon 
 an organ, harpsichord, or what other instrument may 
 be apt for that purpose, the other for him that plays 
 upon the viol, who, having the said Ground before his 
 eyes as his theme or subject, plays such variety of 
 descant or division in concordance thereto as his skill 
 and present invention do then suggest unto him.' 
 
 The true instrumental monody makes its first ap- 
 pearance in 1617 in the works of Biagio Marini, the 
 first famous violinist. In the first of his publications — 
 a set of pieces called Affetti musicali, printed in 1617 
 
 367 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 in Venice, where Marini was then playing in the or- 
 chestra of St. Mark's — there are two pieces called Sin- 
 fonie for violin (or cornet) with Figured Bass, which 
 may be said to represent the point where two distinct 
 styles of instrumental music begin to diverge; one pro- 
 ceeding directly from these to pieces of widely devel- 
 oped solo music, the other developing through the can- 
 zona and works of that kind to modern orchestral 
 music. This first work of Marini presents many inno- 
 vations, the bowing is suggested by slurs, use is made 
 of the tremolo (seven years before Monteverdi's Com- 
 battimento di Tancredi e Clorinda, in which it was 
 long held to have appeared first) ; * and there are many 
 passages of double stopping. 
 
 Another composer of the early times is Francesco 
 Turini, writing trio-sonatas in the style of Salvatore 
 Rossi, for two violins and a Figured Bass; and the 
 works of Giovanni Battista Fontana (1641) show ever 
 further development, not only in violin technique, but 
 in the construction of music as well. Treading so care- 
 fully over new ground, the early composers seldom let 
 themselves go in melodies of any long sweep but re- 
 strained themselves to short phrases, just as in writing 
 canzonas for groups of instruments they held fast by 
 short sections; but, in the works of Fontana, long, 
 smooth phrases of well-balanced melody give proof of 
 the rapidity with which the art was progressing and 
 the confidence that was coming in the treatment of 
 music for the violin. In the works of a contemporary, 
 Tarquinio Merula, there is often even a lively humor- 
 ous free swing. So the first half of the seventeenth 
 century brought an understanding of the character of 
 the violin as a solo instrument, and of its special treat- 
 ment and of some of the possibilities of virtuosity that 
 lay within it; and through the cultivation of the solo 
 sonata — direct offspring of the early monodic style — 
 
 * See Biemann: Op. cit, IF, 100 Cf. Chap. IX, p. 245, 
 
 368 
 
THE VIOLIN STYLE 
 
 there grew up an art of composing long, smooth, ex- 
 pressive melodies for the violin which, exerting an in- 
 fluence upon the canzona of polyphonic birth, was to 
 aid in freeing it from its restriction to short motives 
 and in setting it upon its way toward the sonata da 
 chiesa of Corelli and the symphonies of Beethoven. 
 
 IV 
 
 The importance of rhythm in instrumental music has 
 already been pointed out. We have mentioned the 
 part it played in the transformation of the heavy can- 
 zona into the sonata da chiesa, giving life and charac- 
 ter to the themes, and structural regularity to the sec- 
 tions. We have now to consider the development of 
 another cyclic form of music, the Suite, called in Italy 
 the sonata da camera, which had its very being in 
 rhythm. The orthodox suite at the end of the seven- 
 teenth century was a series of four short pieces, all of 
 which were in the same key, each having the name of a 
 dance, and differing from the others in its rhythm. The 
 origin of the suite, therefore, is to be sought in the 
 cultivation of dance music, which is essentially rhyth- 
 mical music, and in the combination of several short 
 dances in a sequence. 
 
 The remarkable English collections of music for the 
 harpsichord or virginal already alluded to contain 
 many dance tunes. In the treatment of them, however, 
 as we have said, composers showed the influence of the 
 polyphonic style to such an extent that they frequently 
 disguised or even suppressed the characteristic 
 rhythms as far as possible by cross accents and polyph- 
 onic intricacies. Yet that the English composers of 
 that time, great men like William Byrd, John Bull, and 
 Thomas Morley, were conscious of the contrasting 
 characters of various dance rhythms, and of the pleas- 
 
 369 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 ant effect of playing a dance in one time after a dance 
 in another, is shown by a passage in Morley's famous 
 book, 'Plain and Easy Introduction to Practical Music' 
 (1597), which describes the efJ'ect to be got by alternat- 
 ing a pavan and a galliard, 'the first of which was a 
 kind of staid musick ordained for grave dancing, and 
 the other a lighter and more stirring kind of dancing.' 
 
 Rut the practice of stringing dance tunes together 
 antedates Morley's book by nearly a century, if not 
 more. Among the first pieces of music ever printed 
 were sets of dance tunes for the lute, which were 
 printed by Petrucci in Venice in 1508. Some of these 
 sets consisted of a pavan followed by other dances — 
 saltarello and pi'ya— which were thematically related 
 to it; and throughout the sixteenth century many such 
 embryo suites made their appearance. In the early 
 lute music of the time the rhythmical element was quite 
 obvious, clearly because the polyphonic style could not 
 be reproduced upon the lute. Indeed music for the lute 
 is the first instrumental music which presents a defi- 
 nite special instrumental style, and this because by its 
 nature the instrument was quite unfitted for polyph- 
 ony. The separate pieces in the early suites were 
 often thematically related; they were, in fact, variation 
 suites, built up upon the same theme presented in vari- 
 ous rhythms. Toward the end of the century it became 
 customary to print together many pieces of the same 
 kind, so that one encounters sets of pavans, of gail- 
 lards, of passamezzi, of courantes, etc. Thereby the 
 stringing together of dances of different types in the 
 order of a suite disappears from printed music, though 
 doubtless players of the lute and of the hai^jsichord 
 chose single dances from the various collections and 
 put and played them together according to their own 
 taste. 
 
 In Italy the interest, newly aroused early in the sev- 
 enteenth century, in toccatas and ricercari for the or- 
 
 370 
 
THE SONATA DA CAMERA 
 
 gan, and in the canzona and solo sonata for other in- 
 struments, banished for a time interest in the combina- 
 tion of dance tunes; but German and English compos- 
 ers accepted the canzona very slowly, and all through 
 the century gave themselves conspicuously to the com- 
 bination and development of dance tunes, at first for 
 an ensemble of instruments, and later for the harpsi- 
 chord. They early broke away from the restrictions 
 of church modes and built up their pieces over a clear 
 harmonic foundation generally richer and more varied 
 than the harmonies of the Italians. But in these early 
 suites, too, there is the same rhythmical hesitation 
 which has been found characteristic of all early instru- 
 mental music, and the metrical structure of the various 
 dances is often irregular and unbalanced, so strong 
 were the old polyphonic traditions and the mistrust 
 of liveliness. 
 
 Of the old dance tunes two are almost invariably 
 present in the suite up to the middle of the century, the 
 pavan and the galliard. The pavan was a broad, 
 stately kind of music in common time, and was gener- 
 ally divided into three sections, of which the first was 
 in simple harmonic style, and the second and third 
 more contrapuntal. The galliard, on the other hand, 
 was in triple time, and was always set in simple har- 
 monic style. Here is the same principle of construc- 
 tion as that upon which the instrumental canzonas were 
 built — pieces of polyphonic style contrasted with those 
 of a simpler kind. 
 
 At what time the pavan and the galliard gave way 
 to the alleman.de and courante, which are the nucleus 
 of the orthodox suite, has yet to be determined, but at 
 the end of the century the suites of the great German 
 and English writers present uniformly four standard 
 movements, of which the arrangement is allemande, 
 courante, sarabande, and gigue. The origin of the alle- 
 mande is unknown. It was always in common time 
 
 371 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 and was of stately though not slow movement. Of the 
 courantes there were two distinct types, one called 
 French and the other Italian, both in triple time and 
 both rapid, but the former complex and full of cross 
 accents and the latter simple and gay. The sarabande 
 was of Spanish or Moorish origin and was in slow 
 triple time with the rhythmical peculiarity of a dwell- 
 ing or accent upon the second beat of the measure. It 
 differed from the other movements in that it was in- 
 variably in harmonic style; and its rich though simple 
 chords and the quiet dignity of its movements have 
 expressed many of the deepest and most emotional 
 thoughts of the great masters, Purcell, Handel, and 
 Bach. The gigue was lively and usually in six-eight 
 time. It was the only dance of British origin to find a 
 central place in the suite, which is remarkable in view 
 of the fact that the English masters were among the 
 first to work with the suite form. Between the sara- 
 bande and the gigue it was customary to insert one or 
 more extra dances, of which those most frequently met 
 with are the minuet, gavotte, bourree, etc. At the be- 
 ginning of the suite was often a prelude in the form of 
 the early canzona, and called 'sonata' or 'symphony.' 
 
 Each movement was divided into two nearly equal 
 parts, and each of these parts was repeated. The first 
 began in the tonic key and modulated to the dominant; 
 the second began in tiie dominant and modulated back 
 to the tonic. Thus there was an harmonic basis which 
 in these movements, as in the movements of the per- 
 fected sonata da chiesa of the Italians, was an essen- 
 tial element of the design. The division of the definite 
 movements, which was from the beginning one of the 
 features of the suite, probably had some influence upon 
 the Italian composers and led them to the step of cut- 
 ting the canzona, too, into definite movements. 
 
 All through the century composers in England and 
 in Germany were experimenting with thesd cdmbina- 
 
 372 
 
THE SUITE 
 
 tions of dance tunes for groups of instruments. Among 
 the English experimenters should be mentioned Mat- 
 thew Locke with his collection of suites for strings called 
 'The Little Consort of Three Parts' (1656), each of 
 which contains a pavan, an ayre, a 'corant,' and a sara- 
 bande; and Benjamin Rogers, one of the most famous 
 composers of his day. Among the Germans, Johann 
 Jacob Lowen with his Sinphonien (1658), which are 
 sets of dance tunes, and Dietrich Becker with 'Musical 
 Spring Fruit' (1658), among which is a suite made up 
 in the conventional order of allemande, courante, 
 sarabande, and gigue. One cannot but be astotiished 
 to find how closely the suite of the northern masters 
 and the canzona of the Italians kept pace with one an- 
 other. As proof one has only to note that Becker's 
 work with its orthodox suite is but a year later than 
 Vitali's first sonata da chiesa. 
 
 Thus by the beginning of the last quarter of the cen- 
 tury musicians had developed an instrument style for 
 groups of string instruments and for the organ; they 
 had devised fitting forms independent of words for 
 their musical ideas, they had studied melody and ac- 
 quired the art of handling it, and they had admitted 
 the stir of rhythm into their most serious work, thereby 
 giving it an animation which would have been sum- 
 marily condemned a century before. There still 
 lacked men of the highest order of genius to take up 
 the work thus prepared for them. 
 
 One style of instrumental music is still to be dis- 
 cussed, namely, that for the harpsichord. This instru- 
 ment had been brought to a high state of perfection by 
 the family of Ruckers in Antwerp about the turn of 
 the sixteenth century. It was known by various names 
 
 373 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 — clavecin in France, harpsichord in England, clavi- 
 cembalo in Italy, and was made in various forms and 
 sizes. Though a keyboard instrument, it can hardly 
 be considered an ancestor of the piano, for the tones 
 of it were caused by the plucking of the strings, by 
 jacks attached to levers operated by the keys and not 
 by the pressing or striking of them. Such variety of 
 tone shading as could be got from it was chiefly through 
 the working of stops, which brought a new series of 
 strings into play, or of pedals, which dampened the 
 strings; and the larger harpsichords were furnished 
 with two or more manuals which operated upon sepa- 
 rate sets of strings. 
 
 The extraordinary output of music for the virginals 
 in England just before the beginning and during the 
 first few years of the century gave way to interest in 
 'Fancies,' and later in suites for strings, and the Ger- 
 mans were absorbed in music for the organ or for an 
 ensemble of strings. The Italians were given almost 
 wholly to the cultivation of music for the violin. To 
 the French must be given the credit of having devel- 
 oped the art of the harpsichord to a high state of ex- 
 cellence and beauty during the course of the first half 
 of the century. The Germans were content to publish 
 some pieces for the 'harpsichord or organ,' the Italians 
 likewise; the French were the first to realize the funda- 
 mental differences between the two instruments. A 
 great deal is due to the influence of the famous French 
 lutenists of the mid-century, among whom Denys Gaul- 
 tier deserves first mention. His collection of pieces 
 called La rhetorique des dieux is one of the most 
 charming records of music in Europe during the sev- 
 enteenth century. While composers for organ, for 
 groups of string instruments, and even for the voice, 
 were still struggling with problems of style and form, 
 these little pieces made their appearance, in which 
 there is no trace of experiment nor hesitation, but com- 
 
 374 
 
THE HARPSICHORD 
 
 plete mastery of a style both delicate and in every way 
 suitable. The lute still held its place as the most gen- 
 erally used of all instruments during the greater part 
 of the century, not only as accompaniment to voices 
 and as foundation for groups of instruments, but as a 
 solo instrument. Even works by Corelli at the very 
 end of the century are written over a Figured Bass, 
 which may be played either by harpsichord or lute. 
 That it at last gave way to the harpsichord is probably 
 owing to the great difficulty of playing it. After the 
 time of Gaultier, special cultivation of it rapidly 
 waned, but Gaultier had lasting influence upon subse- 
 quent composers for the harpsichord, both in France 
 and Germany. La rhetorique des dieux contains many 
 sets of little pieces, most of which conform to the style 
 of dance pieces then cultivated, all bearing fanciful 
 names such as Phseton foudroye, Diana, Ulysses, Mars 
 superbe, Juno, ou La jalouse. La coquette virtuose, 
 etc. They are light and graceful and quite free of the 
 heaviness of the polyphonic style. 
 
 The first of the great French composers for the harp- 
 sichord was Jacques Champion Chambonnieres, bril- 
 liant son of a family of musicians. His two books of 
 pieces published in 1670 contain several sets of dances 
 which are arranged in the order already established 
 as orthodox; allemande, courante, sarabande, and 
 gigue. The place of the allemande is sometimes taken 
 by two pavans, several of the courantes are followed 
 by doubles, and sometimes a minuet or a galliard takes 
 the place of the gigue. The style is obviously influ- 
 enced by Gaultier's music for the lute, and is marked 
 by perfect ease and an elegant clearness and grace. 
 And like Gaultier's pieces, many of them have dainty, 
 fanciful names, such as Iris la toute belle, L'entretien 
 des dieux, Jeunes zephirs, etc. Already in the preface 
 to these sets of pieces we come across directions for 
 playing those little ornaments which were to become 
 
 375 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 one of the most characteristic features of music for the 
 harpsichord in the next century, and the subject of 
 many a treatise. 
 
 In Germany harpsichord music was set free from 
 organ music by Froberger, whose works for the organ 
 we have already mentioned. Though his harpsichord 
 pieces first appeared in print in 1693 and 1696, several 
 manuscripts bear the date of 1649; and one upon the 
 death of Ferdinand IV must belong near 1654. Fro- 
 berger must have seen something of Gaultier and 
 Chambonnieres while he was in Paris, but the fact that 
 none of his pieces bore names after the fashion of the 
 French composers shows that he did not wish to be 
 considered an imitator of them, and indeed his style is 
 still rather heavy and compact and more akin to the 
 early English style than to the light transparent style 
 of the French. 
 
 VI 
 
 The history of opera during the seventeenth century 
 is brilUantly fascinating because it reflects so much 
 the social hfe of those times; yet the contribution of 
 opera composers to the art of music is not great. We 
 have seen in a previous chapter what Monteverdi ac- 
 complished for opera; that he had a grasp and compre- 
 hension of those principles of opera upon which Gluck 
 and Wagner later based their music dramas; that his 
 music, though often rashly experimental and crude, on 
 the other hand was often genuinely dramatic and 
 strong in emotional feeling. But even before his death 
 composers of opera had turned their backs upon the 
 road toward which Monteverdi had pointed, and were 
 well started on their way toward an opera in which all 
 dramatic power, all genuine feeling was to be stifled 
 in a mass of formal vocalism and scenic display. Upon 
 opera more than upon any other form of music the in- 
 
 376 
 
HARPSICHORD MUSIC 
 
 fluence of fashion and public taste made itself felt. 
 The rush of opera into a state of utter falseness was 
 indeed headlong. Let us quote from Dr. Bumey's his- 
 tory. After stating that during the years between 1662 
 and 1680 there were nearly a hundred different operas 
 performed in Venice alone, and giving the names of 
 many composers now quite forgotten, he says : 'During 
 this period it seldom happens indeed that the names of 
 poets, composers, or singers are recorded in printed 
 copies of these dramas, though that of the machinist is 
 never omitted; and much greater care seems to have 
 been taken to amuse the eye than the ears or the in- 
 tellect of those who attended these spectacles.' He 
 gives a list of the paraphernalia used in the perform- 
 ance of an opera on the subject of Berenice at Padua in 
 1680. The list includes choruses of one hundred vir- 
 gins, one hundred soldiers, one hundred horsemen in 
 iron armor, forty cornets of horse, six trumpeters on 
 horse-back, six drummers, six ensigns, six trombones, 
 six flutes, six minstrels playing on Turkish instru- 
 ments, six others on octave flutes, six pages, three ser- 
 geants, six cymbalhsts, twelve huntsmen, twelve 
 grooms, six coachmen for the triumph, six others for 
 the procession, two lions led by two Turks, two ele- 
 phants by two others, Berenice's triumphal car drawn 
 by four horses, six other cars with prisoners and spoils 
 drawn by twelve horses, and six coaches for the proces- 
 sion. Among the scenes in the first act was a vast 
 plain with two triumphal arches, another with pavil- 
 lions and tents, a square prepared for the entrance of 
 triumph; in act two, Berenice's royal apartments; in 
 act three, a royal dressing-room, completely furnished, 
 stables with one hundred live horses, and besides repre- 
 sentations of every species of chase, as of wild boar, 
 stag, deer, and bears. Obviously in such a spectacle 
 true dramatic art and true musicianship found little 
 place. Yet some of the opera composers of the century 
 
 377 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 should not pass unnoticed even in a general history of 
 music. Their operas, it is true, are now no longer 
 heard, are indeed practically forgotten, but their ef- 
 forts invented new vocal forms which have held a 
 prominent place in the art of music, not only in opera. 
 
 Opera may be said to have originated in Florence, 
 but it was soon transplanted from the city of its birth, 
 and after the year 1600 the historian finds little of im- 
 portance in Florentine opera to claim his attention. In 
 1608 Marco da Gagliano made another musical setting 
 of Rinuccini's Dafne, which had been set by Peri into 
 the first opera. It may be remarked that Peri gener- 
 ously placed Gagliano above himself. Gagliano wrote 
 a preface to his Dafne in which he gave as his definition 
 of opera, 'a true entertainment for princes, more pleas- 
 ing than any other, for it unites in itself all the finest 
 pleasures, invention, the arrangement of a subject, 
 ideas, style, sweetness of rhyme, the art of music, con- 
 cord of voices and instruments, refinement and delicacy 
 of song, graceful dances and movements; and it may 
 be said that painting also plays a great part in the 
 perspective and the costumes; so much so that not only 
 the intelligence but all the noblest feelings are charmed 
 by the most pleasing arts which have been invented by 
 the genius of man.' This is a high ideal of opera, not 
 unworthy to stand beside Wagner's; but the spirit of 
 the age cared little enough about charming the intelli- 
 gence, and the next opera of importance in Florence, 
 Ruggiero, written by Francesca Caccini, daughter of 
 Giulio Caccini, is little more than a spectacle. Gag- 
 liano's Flora (1624) closes the Florentine period. 
 
 In Rome the opera was for many years influenced by 
 the oratorio, that is to say, the texts chosen were 
 oftenest either spiritual or allegorical, following the 
 style of Cavalieri's Rappresentazione, which has al- 
 ready been treated in the previous chapter. Opera and 
 oratorio were hardly dilferent in form. The influence 
 
 378 
 
OPERA IN THE 17TH CENTURY 
 
 of the church was strong and decidedly conservative. 
 The most important opera composers in Rome, Stefano 
 Landi and Agazzari, were both in the service of the 
 church, and were, as a matter of fact, primarily church 
 composers. Moreover, there was no public opera in 
 Rome until after the middle of the century. Perform- 
 ances were given under the patronage and at the pal- 
 aces of cardinals, among them Corsini, Colonna, Rospi- 
 gliosi, and Barberini. Landi's two operas, Orfeo 
 (1619), and San Alessio (1634), are both made up of 
 comic and tragic elements. In Orfeo there is a Lethe 
 drinking song for Charon, one of the first comedy 
 scenes in opera, and in San Alessio, which deals with 
 a story of Christ, there are buffoons. These comedy 
 scenes seem to show a reaction against the ecclesiasti- 
 cal influence. Among the musicians in the seirvice of 
 Cardinal Barberini was Luigi Rossi, one of the most 
 admired and best beloved musicians of his day. He 
 was summoned to Paris by Mazarin in 1646 with twenty 
 singers, among them eight male soprani, and in Paris 
 wrote his most famous opera, 'The Marriage of Orpheus 
 and Eurydice.' Upon his return to Rome he wrote 
 another opera, 7/ palagio d' Atlanta, and an oratorio, 
 'Joseph.' In general it may be said that the influence 
 of the church was too strong for opera at Rome, and 
 the so-called Roman school of the seventeenth century 
 has its place only in the development of the cantata 
 and the oratorio. 
 
 Venice was the centre of operatic music during the 
 greater part of the century. Thither, as we have seen, 
 Monteverdi had been called in 1613 as choirmaster at 
 St. Mark's, and there he wrote Tancredi, 'The Return 
 of Ulysses,' and L'incoronazione di Poppea, all of 
 which, by the color of their orchestration, their genuine 
 dramatic feeling, and their remarkable strength of 
 harmony, left a standard for opera which was nowhere 
 equalled throughout the century. The first opera house 
 
 379 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 in Europe was built in Venice in 1637. Others quickly 
 followed in the same city. Thus here the opera ceased 
 to be a private amusement for the rich nobility and 
 became a public diversion; and composers were conse- 
 quently forced to take at once into consideration the 
 desires and the taste of the public. No longer free 
 under a rich patronage to experiment, they were 
 obliged to write works for which a popular success 
 might be expected. Furthermore, the financial man- 
 agers of the opera were by no means willing to pay 
 high salaries and secure the services of the best mu- 
 sicians for the orchestra. Composers could count upon 
 but little skill in the playing of their accompaniments, 
 and, had they been inclined to write elaborately for the 
 orchestra, would have been deterred from so doing by 
 the knowledge that their music would have been mis- 
 handled. Thereupon it is hardly surprising that com- 
 posers quickly lost interest in a detailed workman- 
 ship which would have passed unnoticed by the care- 
 less ears of the age, that they strove for breadth of ef- 
 fect, at the sacrifice of artistic perfection, that they 
 neglected their accompaniments and the resources of 
 the orchestra and centred their attention wholly upon 
 the voice parts, upon melody for which alone the public 
 had interest. The standards of Monteverdi were for- 
 gotten or ignored even before his death. His greatest 
 pupil and his successor, Francesco Cabetti-Bruni, called 
 Cavalli (1599-1676), never lost entirely what he learned 
 from his master. In his operas, of which 'Jason' (1649), 
 'Serse' (1660), and Ercole amante (1662) are most 
 often cited, and were in his own day the most fa^lous, 
 the dramatic element never wholly disappears. But, 
 whereas Monteverdi intensified the plays which he set 
 to music by sudden, often harsh, effects, Cavalli tended 
 always toward smoothness. Monteverdi's style is 
 pointed and concentrated, full of fire, Cavalli's flowing 
 and diluted. It was to his interest to make the most 
 
 380 
 
FRANCESCO CAVALLI 
 
 of dramatic scenes, to expand them to proportions 
 which could not fail to claim the attention of his audi- 
 ences. Therefore it happens that the recitative, which 
 was the usual medium of musical expression in the 
 early operas, was at places in his opera broadened into 
 more ot less sustained melody. The dramatic value 
 of a situation was no longer tersely emphasized by a 
 sharp interval in the voice part or a few harsh chords 
 in the accompaniment, but was extended throughout a 
 long passage tending to become more and more lyrical. 
 In this fashion the aria was prefigured in the operas 
 of Cavalli, and so it grew and was perfected and be- 
 came the characteristic mark of the Italian opera. 
 
 The form became stereotyped. There was usually 
 an orchestral introduction, anticipating the melody. 
 This was followed by the first section of the aria, usu- 
 ally broad, flowing melody within the limits of the 
 tonic key. After this came an orchestral ritornel, and 
 then the second section of the aria, usually in a more 
 broken and sometimes more agitated style, and in a 
 contrasting key. This section was followed by another 
 orchestral ritornel and the return of the first section 
 complete. It became the custom to write the words 
 da capo at the end of the second section, directing the 
 singer to return to the beginning and start over again, 
 singing to a sign placed at the end of the first section. 
 The form is, of course, stiff, but it is not by any means 
 essentially ugly. The recapitulation of the first sec- 
 tion gives a sense of balance and proportion to the 
 song as a whole, which is necessary in any work of art. 
 This very balance, however, is in direct opposition to 
 dramatic effect. The action of a drama must move 
 forward. To return in scenes of great feeling to a 
 point already passed and repeat what has already once 
 been sung checks all action and brings the play to a 
 standstill. Yet in the course of the century arias came 
 to occupy the predominant part in opera. Before the 
 
 381 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 end of the century they were classified into various 
 kinds, and a composer was not only forced to incor- 
 porate a certain number of each kind into his opera, 
 but to allot to each singer his or her proper share of 
 them. The old dramma per musica became a thing 
 of the past, the new opera merely a series of songs 
 arbitrarily joined by a few measures of indifferent ac- 
 companied or unaccompanied recitative. 
 
 As we have said, signs of this development are al- 
 ready apparent in the operas of Cavalli, pupil of 
 Monteverdi. Cavalli achieved immense popular suc- 
 cess. His fame spread over Europe. He was sum- 
 moned to France in 1660 and again in 1662 and re- 
 quired to furnish operas for the court of Louis XIV. 
 LuUy, whose work we shall consider in the next chap- 
 ter, was already in control of music at the court, and 
 was commissioned to add ballet music to the operas 
 of Cavalli to season them to the French taste; and in 
 this way had the chance to study Cavalli's music and 
 to appropriate from it all that was worth continuing. 
 Through Cavalli the influence of Monteverdi there- 
 fore passed into France. 
 
 It is not in melody alone that Cavalli's works reflect 
 the spirit of his time. The orchestral parts are care- 
 lessly treated. There are instrumental passages for 
 which no special instruments are even designated. 
 There is the same love of show and spectacle which 
 was already evident in the works of England and the 
 ballets of France and in the late Florentine opera. 
 Elaborate scenes and complicated stage machines are 
 constantly employed. There are pompous allegorical 
 prologues and final ballets, and scenes of buff'oonery 
 mingled with the classic theme. 
 
 All this is far more striking in the works of a later 
 famous composer of the Venetian school. Marc' An- 
 tonio Cesti (1620-1669). Cesti's most famous operas 
 were La Dori (1663) and 7/ porno d'oro (1667). The 
 
 382 
 
OPERA IN VENICE 
 
 latter was written after Cesti had gone to Vienna for 
 the marriage of Leopold I and Margareta of Spain. It 
 was produced with the most extravagant splendor. The 
 prologue was sung by characters representing Spain, 
 Italy, Hungary, Bohemia, and even America. There 
 were five acts and sixty-seven scenes. The voice parts 
 are smooth and melodious, but the orchestra is care- 
 lessly handled. Giovanni Legrenzi (1625-1690) alone 
 stands conspicuous among the Venetian composers for 
 any attention to orchestral effects. Most of his operas 
 were written between 1675 and 1684 while he was at 
 the head of one of the Venetian conservatories and 
 second choirmaster at St. Mark's, and nearly all of 
 them were produced in Venice. He seems to have pre- 
 sided over a sort of academy which met at his house. 
 Among his pupils the most famous in the next genera- 
 tion were Lotti, Caldara, and Galuppi. 
 
 The list of composers who wrote for the opera houses 
 in Venice is long. Their fertility was enormous. The 
 public demanded novelty and only a few operas won a 
 permanent place in its favor. The opera season was 
 carnival time, during the weeks between Epiphany and 
 Lent, though there were often short seasons in the fall 
 and in the late spring. All operas must end happily, 
 and the comic element was never absent. For the 
 greater part of the century the Venetian opera was the 
 favorite of all Europe. After 1670, however, opera be- 
 gan to flourish in Naples, and by the beginning of the 
 next century the Neapolitan opera was supreme. Here 
 in Naples the victory of the singers was complete. 
 Composers were at their mercy and the public fawned 
 upon them. Bearing in mind that the opera began 
 with the attempts of a few briliant young Florentines 
 to restore the Greek drama, in which, so far as we 
 know, recitative and chorus were the chief musical 
 adjuncts, we cannot but be amazed to note the state 
 to which it had come by the end of the century. The 
 
 383 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 chorus had been abandoned except for massed effects 
 at the end of the acts, recitative had been cut down as 
 much as possible, and the aria was supreme. Even 
 the arias were distorted or inflated with technical de- 
 vices to show off the skill of the singers. Of dramatic 
 feeling there was none and of genuine music scarcely 
 a note that has survived the test of time. Practically 
 all of the more than seven hundred operas written be- 
 tween 1607 and 1700 have sunk into oblivion. Many 
 have even perished utterly. As Burney says, often 
 enough the name of the composer of an opera was 
 unmentioned. A century of endeavor might well be 
 reckoned as futilely spent, but that it left a model of 
 smooth recitative, of eminently suitable vocal style and 
 the standard of the perfected aria. 
 
 But such an opera as this was what the public 
 wanted, not only in Italy, but in Germany, France, and 
 England as well. Except for the opera in Hamburg 
 there was no attempt at a national opera in Germany 
 during the century. For the most part composers, 
 librettists, and singers were Italian. Heinrich Schutz 
 has the fame of having written the first German opera. 
 The music was burned in 1760. The text was the oft- 
 set Dafne of Rinuccini, translated into German. Re- 
 membering that Schutz had received his education in 
 Venice between 1609 and 1612, at a time when the new 
 style was in the air, we may surmise that his music 
 was in the Italian style of the first period of opera, 
 full of dramatic feeling. Daphne was performed in 
 1627 at the castle of Hartenfels near Torgau in Saxony 
 for the marriage of Princess Sophie of Saxony and 
 George II of Hesse-Darmstadt. Opera was introduced 
 in Munich in 1657 by Kaspar Kerll, writing to Italian 
 texts. In Dresden opera was from the start (1662) 
 Italian. There was no opera in Berlin before 1700. 
 
 The French received the Italians coldly at first, but 
 their opera, or rather the ballet from which their opera 
 
 384 
 
OPERA IN GERMANY AND ENGLAND 
 
 developed, depended for effect largely upon display. 
 In England the theatres were closed by the Puritans 
 between 1642 and 1660, and there was no opera before 
 Purcell's 'Dido and iEneas' (1688-1690). But both 
 before and after the commonwealth a form of dramatic 
 entertainment called the 'masque' was in great favor 
 and attracted the attention of a number of composers. 
 The masque resembled the French ballet, which seems 
 to have come from the same source; but it far excelled 
 its French counterpart in literary workmanship and 
 skill. Like the French ballet, however, it was wholly 
 a private amusement. People of rank and fashion 
 took part in it, usually disguised. It was generally 
 based on a mythological story and was made up of 
 dialogue, songs, and dancing, and was always extrava- 
 gantly staged. Among the composers who set music to 
 various masques throughout the century should be 
 mentioned Thomas Campion (d. 1620), Nicholas La- 
 nier (d. 1666), who is said to have introduced recita- 
 tive into England; the brothers William and Henry 
 Lawes, the latter of whom set Milton's 'Comus' to 
 music in 1634; Matthew Locke (d. 1677) ; and Pelham 
 Humphrey (d. 1674). The masque can hardly be said 
 to have developed into opera. The one very great 
 composer England produced during the century, Henry 
 Purcell, was influenced by it, but his one opera 'Dido 
 and Eneas' is almost the only English opera, and 
 immediately after his death Italian opera flooded Lon- 
 don to the exclusion of any other that might have 
 grown out of the masque. 
 
 Meanwhile the oratorio, which sprang into life to- 
 gether with the opera, had been generally neglected. 
 The first real oratorio, Cavalieri's Rappresentazione 
 di anima e di corpo, given in Rome in 1600, did not 
 differ, except in subject matter, from an opera. The 
 personages in the allegory were all acted; there were 
 scenery and costumes. The same is true of the ora- 
 
 385 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 torios of Steffano Landi and Liugi Rossi. The form 
 began to differ from the form of the opera only with 
 the works of Giacomo Carissimi, one of the most fam- 
 ous composers of the century. He was born near Rome 
 about 1604, was probably trained in Rome, and held 
 the post of choirmaster at S. ApoUinari in Rome from 
 1628 until his death in 1674. Trained in Rome and 
 living most of his life there, Carissimi was under the 
 conservative influence of the church and all his music 
 shows a musicianship far above that of any of his 
 contemporaries, and more allied to the lofty perfection 
 of the old polyphonic style. On the other hand, he did 
 not fail to avail himself of the results of the new 
 movement. Though in his masses he is a master of 
 smooth part writing, not unworthy to stand beside 
 Palestrina, in the choruses of his oratorios, when there 
 is agitated or dramatic feeling to be expressed, he uses 
 with equal ease a style broken and pointed with 
 rhythm, which is wholly in keeping with the dra- 
 matic ideals of Monteverdi and none the less careful 
 and artistic. In this certain 'high seriousness' of his 
 work Carissimi is in sharp contrast with most of the 
 composers of his age, who, carried high on the wave 
 of the reactionary movement, often refused to Subject 
 themselves to the discipline of any genuine musical 
 training and composed merely in a sketchy, unfinished 
 way. All Carissimi's work is marked by great finish. 
 He was one of the few composers of the century who 
 worked seriously to improve the new recitative style 
 and his influence in this regard was far-reaching. 
 Then, too, his treatment of orchestral accompaniments 
 was anything but vague and indefinite. He was the 
 first to differentiate the oratorio from the opera. In 
 all his oratorios, of which 'Jephtha' and 'Jonah' are 
 the most famous, the story is sung in recitative by a 
 'Narrator.' There is no action, nor scenery nor cos- 
 tumes, and the chorus is given a far more important 
 
 386 
 
GIACOMO CARISSIMI 
 
 part in the scheme than it ever found in opera. It 
 was upon, the foundation laid by Carissimi that Handel, 
 nearly a century later, built up his own great oratorio. 
 
 Carissimi was, moreover, the first to perfect a form 
 of music known as the cantata, consisting of recitative 
 and arias for solo voice with figured bass accompani- 
 ment, a sort of vocal chamber music which was also 
 suitable for use in the church. The form was further 
 developed by Alessandro Scarlatti, and later by Handel. 
 
 In Germany the growths of both the oratorio and the 
 cantata were greatly influenced by the more serious 
 religious temper of the people and by the intimate 
 personal religious sentiment which was the outcome 
 of the Reformation. Naturally, the church music of 
 the German composers was affected by the Italian 
 schools, notably that of Venice, and by the general 
 movement toward solo and concert style and the opera. 
 But the chorales which, we have already seen, led to 
 a form of organ music distinctively German colored 
 all German Protestant religious music with a spirit 
 that was completely wanting in Italian music of the 
 same age. The chorale was incorporated into oratorios 
 and into cantatas. The congregation was given a voice, 
 shared in the musical expression of most profound 
 and yet most intimate devotional feeling. By far the 
 greatest of German composers of this time was Hein- 
 rich Schiitz (1585-1672), whose Dafne has already been 
 mentioned. Most of his works were sacred. In the 
 oratorio style belong the 'Resurrection' (1623), the 
 'Seven Words' (1645) and four settings of the story of 
 the Passion, settings of the Psalms (1619) and the 
 Symphonise sacrse (1629-1650). All these works, 
 though full of dramatic feeling, are intensely religious, 
 and foreshadow the great cantatas and the Passion 
 of Johann Sebastian Bach, both in their richness of 
 harmony and in their genuineness of feeling. 
 
 L. H. 
 387 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 The musicians of tlie century — Henry Purcell and music in England — 
 Italy: Alessandro Scarlatti; Arcangelo Corelll; Domenico Scarlatti — The ■ 
 beginnings of French opera: the Ballet-comique de la reine; Cambert and 
 Perrin — Jean Baptiste LuUy — Couperin and Rameau — ^Music in Germany: 
 Keiser, Mattheson, and the Hamburg opera; precursors of Bach. 
 
 Three-quarters of the seventeenth century produced 
 hardly more than experimental music. The enthu- 
 siasm of the Italians found on every hand new^ ways 
 for the development of music and they were in every 
 branch the innovators and the bold discoverers. In 
 every country of Europe their influence was felt, their 
 guidance followed. They were the models for the 
 time. And, at the end of the century, what they had 
 sown bore fruit, both in their own country and in 
 England, Holland, Germany, and France. At the end 
 of the century lasting achievement takes the place of 
 experiment, there are a dozen composers in every 
 branch of music who no longer speak with hesitation 
 but with certainty, whose music is well built and clear 
 and free in style. Their activities pass well into the 
 next century, but they are firmly rooted in the seven- 
 teenth, and their work should be regarded as the har- 
 vest of that time of sowing. Growing among them 
 were the greatest of all composers, John Sebastian 
 Bach, and his great compeer Georg Friederich Handel. 
 
 England alone produced a truly great composer 
 whose lifetime fell within the century, Henry Purcell. 
 
 388 
 
Henry Purcell 
 After an old engraving 
 
HENRY PURCELL 
 
 The date of his birth has not been exactly determined. 
 He died on the 21st of November, 1695, at the age of 
 only thirty-seven years. As a boy he sang in the choir 
 of the Chapel Royal, and when his voice broke he was 
 stiU retained as a supernumerary. In 1680 he suc- 
 ceeded Dr. John Blow as organist of Westminster Ab- 
 bey and held the post until his death. He began to 
 compose when very young and in his brief life set 
 his stamp upon almost every form of music then 
 known, though he found the first expression of his 
 remarkable genius in music for the stage and inci- 
 dental music for plays. In this branch his opera 'Dido 
 and iEneas' (1689-1691) maintains the highest excel- 
 lence. What is most striking in it, and, indeed, is 
 most striking in all Purcell's music, is the genuineness 
 of feeling. He gave his music lasting life. There is 
 little trace of empty formalism or of arid convention- 
 alism which stifled the music of so many opera com- 
 posers of his day. Its freshness is in no way stale 
 to-day. His use of harmony as a means of emotional 
 expression is far ahead of any of his contemporaries, 
 and he had a gift of spontaneous melody which has 
 never been excelled by any other save perhaps Schu- 
 bert. The death song of Dido in the opera just men- 
 tioned is nearly as startling in relation to the time in 
 which it was written as Monteverdi's 'Lament of Ari- 
 adne.' A few measures of most expressive recitative 
 lead to the song, which, characteristically English, is 
 indeed a song and not the stiff aria of the day. It is 
 a striking example of Purcell's skill in working over 
 a ground bass, in this case a descending chromatic 
 phrase full of melancholy and pathos. 'Dido and 
 iEneas' is the only English opera in the strict sense of 
 the word. Unhappily the rich promise of a national 
 school of English opera which it contains was never 
 fulfilled Almost immediatey after the death of Pur- 
 
 389 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 ceU Italian opera invaded London and in 1711 was 
 firmly established there by Handel. 
 
 Purcell wrote a great deal of music for the theatre, 
 but for the most part in the form of songs and instru- 
 mental dances. Among the plays for which he wrote 
 music should be mentioned Dryden's 'King Arthur' 
 and 'The Indian Queen'; 'Diocletian,' 'The Fairy 
 Queen,' and the 'Tempest.' His most important in- 
 strumental works are a set of twelve sonatas for two 
 violins, bass and figured bass for harpsichord, pub- 
 lished in 1683, and another similar set of ten published 
 after his death by his widow, and eight suites for 
 harpsichord. All these are in keeping with the general 
 style of the time. The sonatas, the first set of which 
 appeared in the same year as Corelli's opus 1, are 
 marked by seriousness which tends toward heaviness 
 in comparison with Corelli's work. They are less spon- 
 taneous than his vocal music, but they are of high 
 artistic merit. The works for harpsichord are touched 
 by the charm of English tunefulness and are no less 
 dainty for being conspicuously simple in comparison 
 with the more elaborate work of the French writers. 
 The greatest part of Purcell's work must remain in 
 isolated monument of great genius, for it had little 
 influence upon the general course of music in his day. 
 However, his anthems and semi-sacred odes hold an 
 important historical position, inasmuch as they con- 
 tain magnificent choruses, from a study of which Han- 
 del obviously and greatly profited. Purcell was second 
 to none of his contemporaries in technical skill. He 
 stood above them in musical power, in the fullness and 
 virility of his ideas, in genuineness and simplicity, in 
 those qualities which elevate genius above technical 
 mastery and agreeable ease. His music rings clear and 
 true. 
 
 390 
 
ALESSANDRO SCARLATTI 
 
 II 
 
 In Italy itself, three men stand out most prominently, 
 Alessandro Scarlatti, his son Domenico, and Arcangelo 
 Corelli. Alessandro Scarlatti is one of the most bril- 
 liant figures of the period. Unhappily it is but another 
 proof of the futility of opera music of that time that 
 so little of his work has survived. His productive- 
 ness is nothing short of prodigious. He wrote at least 
 114 operas and, besides these, 500 cantatas, both for 
 solo voice and for two voices, church music and ora- 
 torios. Born in Sicily and living at two periods in his 
 life at Naples for several years, he was long held to 
 have added a new flavor to Itahan opera and to have 
 founded a school of opera in Naples distinct in char- 
 acter from other Italian opera. But, except for the 
 unusual charm of his personal genius and a higher 
 artistic instinct than that with which most of his con- 
 temporaries were endowed, his music hardly differs 
 from theirs. Certainly he is one of the most impor- 
 tant figures in the history of music, in that he rounded 
 Italian opera into smooth, polished shape and left it 
 clearly defined as a model for all opera composers 
 during the course of the next century. He was born 
 in Sicily in 1659; the exact place is not known, but his 
 family was of Tuscan origin. His youth was spent in 
 Rome, where serious traditions of music still lingered; 
 and there, under what teachers no one knows, he ac- 
 quired a thoroughly solid foundation and that light, 
 sure grasp of technique which shows in his music in 
 striking contrast to the careless work of many a con- 
 temporary then famous. From 1684 to 1702 he was in 
 Naples, occupied principally in composing operas for 
 production at the royal palace or at the theatre of San 
 Bartolomeo. The Neapolitan taste was frivolous and, 
 there can be little doubt, was harmful to the composer, 
 
 391 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 by nature inclined rather to comply with it than to 
 defy it. Yet by 1702 Scarlatti could stand it no longer, 
 and for nine years lived in various of the big Italian 
 cities, always writing operas, successful and highly 
 honored. He returned to Naples in 1713. A few years 
 later the Neapolitans lost interest in his music and he 
 went again to Rome. In 1723 he was back again in 
 Naples, quite out of favor with the public, apparently 
 forgotten by his own generation; and here he died on 
 the 24th of October, 1725. During the last year of his 
 life Johann Adolf Hasse, destined to universal popu- 
 larity as a composer of operas in the Italian style, was 
 his pupil. 
 
 The great number of da capo arias in Scarlatti's 
 works gave rise to a belief prevalent for many years 
 that he was the inventor of this form, which is mainly 
 responsible for the degeneration of Italian opera into 
 the state of meaningless vapidity in which it is found 
 during the following century; but the growth of the 
 form and its use can be traced in the works of his 
 predecessors. He gave to the form, however, its per- 
 fect outline, and, though none of his arias can be said 
 to touch any emotional depth, they are models of a 
 perfect vocal style never since excelled, and even to- 
 day are pleasing by the f aultlessness of their structure 
 and the elegant smoothness of their flow. Scarlatti 
 established this conventional form to the exclusion of 
 all others. How strongly it prevents dramatic action 
 has already been shown in a previous chapter; but 
 Scarlatti in estabhshing it so firmly in Italian opera 
 was but complying with the demands of audiences of 
 his time, and should be less blamed for his acquies- 
 cence to popular taste than praised for the beauty 
 with which he was able to clothe it. He bequeaths to 
 his followers thereby one of the few valuable accom- 
 plishments of Italian opera composers of the seven- 
 
 392 
 
ARCANGELO CORELLI 
 
 teenth century, a form of music wonderfully adapted 
 to show off the beauties of the human voice. 
 
 Moreover, he may be said to have invented the ac- 
 companied recitative. At any rate his opera Olimpia 
 vendicata (1686) gives us the earliest known examples 
 of it, and, though he used it seldom, that he thought 
 to use it at all is indicative of his genius, which, not 
 bold enough to explore the realm of effects in the face 
 of a frivolous public, might, under more favorable cir- 
 cimistances, have broken free of the conventions clos- 
 ing tighter and tighter about Italian opera. With his 
 operas appear the first approximately definite models 
 of the Italian overtiure. These overtiu-es when played 
 with the operas to which they were preludes were 
 called sinfonie, but when played in concert apart from 
 the operas were called overtures. They consisted of 
 three distinct parts or movements — the first a solid 
 allegro, the second a slow expressive movement, and 
 the last light and lively. How much the fonn had 
 influence upon the development of the symphony is 
 shown by the fact that several of Haydn's early sym- 
 phonies were pubUshed under the name of overtures. 
 
 Other works even nearer general oblivion than Scar- 
 latti's operas are his secular cantatas. These are less 
 influenced by the demands of the public, and are in 
 general representative of his ideals. Not only are the 
 recitative and the arias in smooth, flawless style, but 
 the accompaniments, frequently enriched by instru- 
 mental parts added to the figured bass, are full of ex- 
 pressive harmony. That they are less remembered 
 than the operas is due to the fact that the form ceased 
 to be cultivated after his death. Handel's cantatas, like 
 his operas, show the influence of Scarlatti; but Han- 
 del's cantatas, too, are forgotten. 
 
 In that he left in his operas a model of perfect form 
 for that style of opera which was popular and suc- 
 cessful during the next century, his influence was 
 
 393 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 strongly felt, and he was imitated by countless com- 
 posers who, unhappily, fell far short of his musician- 
 ship. Hasse was actually his pupil, Handel his fol- 
 lower; they alone were worthy of their predecessor. 
 His figure is a striking one in the history of music, both 
 by itself and in relation to the time which cramped 
 and confined it. 
 
 His friend Arcangelo Corelli won a lasting fame as 
 the first great violinist and composer of music for the 
 violin. He was born at Fusignano in Italy in Febru- 
 ary, 1653. During his early life, about which little is 
 known, he appears to have travelled in Germany and 
 France, but before 1685 he had settled in Rome, where, 
 save for a few journeys, he remained till the end of his 
 life in January, 1713. In his lifetime he lacked neither 
 friends nor appreciation. His works achieved imme- 
 diate popularity in all the countries of Europe. Only 
 in Naples, whither he went in 1708, did he fail to win 
 success. Stories of his meetings with Scarlatti and 
 with Handel show him to have been a man of gentle, 
 kindly nature, unspoiled by the homage done him by 
 royalty and by the first people in Italy. His position 
 in the history of music is of twofold importance; for 
 not only was he a great player who laid a firm foun- 
 dation for the future development of violin technique, 
 but a composer who sununed up in his works what had 
 been done in music for an ensemble of string instru- 
 ments, and left models of genuine musical worth which 
 were to serve composers of instrumental music until 
 the full development of the symphony. 
 
 His works were published in six sets or opera, still 
 justly famous. Sets one and three consist of twelve 
 sonate da chiesa; two and four, of twelve sonate da 
 camera. The fifth contains twelve solo sonatas for vio- 
 lin with bass and figured bass; and the sixth is made 
 up of concerti grossi for three solo instruments, called 
 the concertino, and an accompaniment for two violins, 
 
 394 
 
ARCANGELO CORELLI 
 
 viola, violoncello, and figured bass, called the tutti. 
 The sonate da chiesa and the sonate da camera differ 
 from each other more in name than in content. The 
 sonate da chiesa or church sonatas are, as might be 
 expected, of rather serious character, the chamber 
 sonatas are more frankly rhythmical; and, whereas the 
 movements of the former are without titles and stand 
 as absolute music, those of the latter frequently bear 
 the names of the dance forms from which we have 
 seen the sonata da camera developed. But the two 
 kinds are closely related. The form in which all are 
 cast is fundamentally tripartite, with an introductory 
 movement The introduction is in a slow, solid style, 
 after the manner of the old pavan. The first move- 
 ment proper is in the dignified contrapuntal style of 
 the allemande, the second in the style of the sarabande 
 — slow and expressive — and the last is lively and usu- 
 ally in the rhythm of the gigue. They are all written 
 for three instruments, with figured bass for organ, 
 harpsichord or lute. What is most striking about 
 them, apart from their excellent fitness for the instru- 
 ments for which they were written, is the compactness 
 of form, the neat balance and proportion toward which 
 composers had been toiling during the century. Here 
 at last is mature instrumental music, music that can 
 stand alone, that is firm and articulate. In the church 
 sonatas, it is true, he sometimes chokes the life of 
 the music in the contrapuntal web which was still in 
 his day the high serious ideal of musicians, but the 
 chamber sonatas are astonishingly free from it. Even 
 more striking is the fine mastery of form and style 
 shown in the twelve solo sonatas. These, too, are of 
 the two kinds, church sonatas and chamber sonatas. 
 In them there is no trace of uncertainty nor of insecure 
 experiment. Master of the violin as he was, his treat- 
 ment of the solo passages and his ornamentation have 
 lost none of their beauty to our ears more than two 
 
 395 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 hundred years after he wrote them. There is no trace 
 of the slow-moving vocal style which had so long ham- 
 pered his predecessors; all is purely instrumental. In 
 him a great victory was won and a branch of music 
 established for all time. It is noteworthy, too, that he 
 was guided by a good taste which restrained him from 
 writing passages merely for technical display. The 
 feverish desire to astonish audiences, evident in the 
 works of his famous contemporary, Vivaldi, is nowhere 
 evident in his own; and, though they may seem to lack 
 fire on this account, they are the more musical for be- 
 ing the less brilliant. His works still have their place 
 in the repertories of great violinists. What must strike 
 the listener is the just proportion between form and 
 content, giving them a serene dignity; for, as the form 
 is simple, so is the emotion equable and cool, and there 
 is no empty pretentiousness, on the one hand, nor in- 
 adequacy of means, on the other. 
 
 The concerti grossi present a relatively new form. 
 The first eight are built upon the same plan as the 
 sonate da chiesa; the last four contain dance move- 
 ments in the style of the sonate da camera. In the 
 eighth is the famous 'Pastorale.' The term is used as 
 early as 1698 (Lorenzo Gregori : Concerti grossi, op. 2) 
 to signify a composition for two or three solo instru- 
 ments with more or less elaborate orchestral accom- 
 paniment or background. The solo instruments re- 
 peat what the orchestra plays, with some elaboration 
 and fine shading. Out of the concerti grossi Torelli 
 and Vivaldi developed the solo concerto, limiting the 
 concertino to one single violin. In this new form the 
 solo passages present new material independent of 
 what the tutti has announced, and are distinct episodes 
 filled with brilliant pyrotechnics. 
 
 Corelli and Scarlatti must both be given an im- 
 portant place in the history of music. Of the two men, 
 Scarlatti had the greater genius, but he turned it to 
 
 396 
 
Arcangelo Corelli 
 
li ARCIIANGKIX) COKELLI. 
 
 IMHfflMilMMa 
 
DOMENICO SCARLATTI 
 
 use in a form of music which could not develop be- 
 yond where he left it, which was radically false and 
 destined to oblivion. Corelli, on the other hand, com- 
 posing far less, gave violin music the secure founda- 
 tion upon which all later musicians have built, and 
 left examples of simple instrumental music which still 
 hold their place by force of their calm, genuine feel- 
 ing. It is strange to think of Corelli on tour in Naples 
 some two hundred years ago, sitting nervous and con- 
 fused at the head of Scarlatti's orchestra, stupidly 
 making mistakes; and of Scarlatti, then at the pinnacle 
 of fame, polite and kind. 
 
 Alessandro Scarlatti's son, Domenico, was born in 
 Naples in 1685, during the second year of his father's 
 stay there. With whom he studied is unknown, but 
 in his youth he was both in Naples and Rome. His 
 first work was in Naples. In 1705 his father sent him 
 to Venice with the great singer Nicolino, and gave him 
 a letter to Ferdinand de Medici in Florence in which 
 he wrote: 'This son of mine is an eagle whose wings 
 are grown; he ought not to stay idle in the nest, and 
 I ought not to hinder his flight. . . . Under the sole 
 escort of his own artistic ability he sets forth to meet 
 whatever opportunities may present themselves for 
 making himself known — opportunities for which it is 
 hopeless to wait in Rome nowadays.' 
 
 In 1708 Handel came to Venice and the two men 
 seem to have gone to Rome together for a competition 
 on harpsichord and organ before Cardinal Ottoboni, 
 the generous patron of Corelli. At any rate, the com- 
 petition took place and Handel was judged the better 
 organist, while the victory for harpsichord was unde- 
 cided. After this the two young men, of the same age, 
 became warm friends. Handel shortly after estab- 
 lished himself in London, but Scarlatti's life was al- 
 ways a wandering one. He was at various times in the 
 service of the Queen of Poland in Rome, as composer 
 
 397 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 for her private theatre; maestro da capella of St. 
 Peter's, where he composed sacred music; in London, 
 producing his operas; in Lisbon; and, finally, at the 
 court of Spain, where he was appointed music-master 
 to the princess of the Asturias. After fifteen years in 
 Spain he returned to Naples, and died there in 1757. 
 He left no money, but his family was provided for by 
 the great singer Farinelli, who, likewise, had been 
 many years at the court of Spain in highest favor. 
 
 Domenico Scarlatti's operas and masses are now for- 
 gotten, but his fame as a composer for the harpsichord 
 is immortal. What Chopin and Liszt did for the piano- 
 forte music of their day Scarlatti did for music for the 
 harpsichord in his. It has been often said that he was 
 the founder of the pianoforte style. This is true, un- 
 less the French composer Frangois Couperin shares 
 the honor with him. Of the brilliant virtuoso style he 
 is unquestionably the founder. His instinct for style 
 and form made no false step, and his music is aston- 
 ishingly sparkling and fresh when played by modern 
 virtuosi on the modern pianoforte. The works of his 
 French contemporaries, Couperin and Rameau, are 
 unmatched in delicacy and grace and a most refined 
 sentiment; still it may be said that their charm to 
 modern ears consists not a little in an exquisite old- 
 fashioned spirit which breathes from a court life long 
 since ruthlessly stamped under foot, whereas Scar- 
 latti's music compels attention and admiration even 
 to-day by its vigor, flash, and daring. Moreover, it is 
 free as air from all heaviness of rhythm or of contra- 
 puntal intricacies and yet is none the less clear-cut and 
 perfect in form. It is, first of all, virtuoso music. Most 
 of the pieces demand the utmost speed and lightness 
 of touch. Among the most difficult devices he fre- 
 quently employed is the crossing of hands, by which 
 he obtained instrumental effects hardly less brilliant 
 than those of Liszt. And yet his music is not all empty 
 
 398 
 
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY 
 
 display. There is an epigrammatic clearness about it 
 which has the sparkle of all genuine wit, irrespective 
 of the time which gave it birth, and at times there is 
 a masculine touch of poetry, enriched by various ex- 
 pressive harmonies, notably in one, the most famous 
 of his sonatas, that in D minor, which is familiar to 
 all concert-goers in the elaborated form and higher 
 key into which Tausig has transcribed it. Unlike other 
 composers in his day, he did not set four or five pieces 
 together in a suite, but kept his pieces separate, and 
 called each one a sonata or an exercise. Nor did he 
 label any of them with the dainty suggestive names that 
 became the fashion in France and Germany. They 
 are all short and all in the same form. Each is made 
 up of two sections, one of which begins in the tonic 
 and modulates to the dominant, or, if the key is minor, 
 to the relative major; the other from this key back to 
 end in the tonic, frequently by way of contrasting re- 
 mote keys. Both sections are repeated in their turn. 
 The effect is one of precise balance and clearness. 
 There are generally two quite distinct figures or even 
 themes which are employed in such a way as to sug- 
 gest the sonata form of later development, the first 
 given at the start in the tonic key, the second in the 
 second part of the first section in the dominant or 
 relative major; and the sparkling liveliness of the 
 pieces depends not a little on the contrast and play of 
 these two distinct figures, their neat and regular ar- 
 rangement, and the satisfying return of them in the 
 second section of the piece. Such an aptness, such a 
 clear-headed wit is hardly met with anywhere else in 
 music. If the glitter of Scarlatti's harpsichord music 
 is sometimes hard, it is never false. It is the glitter of 
 a diamond, not of tinsel. It has never tarnished. It 
 flashes brilliantly from an age when much was false — 
 clean-cut, polished, impervious, and, in its pointed way, 
 defiant. 
 
 399 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIG 
 
 Thus in Italy three men sum up the seventeenth cen- 
 tury and inaugurate the eighteenth. They were not 
 alone in their day, but their contemporaries, once 
 equally famous, have for the most part sunk into an 
 oblivion from which only the enthusiastic historian 
 recovers them. And even the most gifted of these 
 three, Alessandro Scarlatti, becomes daily less a sub- 
 stance and more a shade, though what there was of in- 
 trinsic worth in the Italian opera of that time was de- 
 veloped and adorned by him to stand as a model for 
 Handel, for Haydn and Mozart, and for Rossini and 
 Verdi. Corelli, his friend, and Domenico Scarlatti, his 
 son, built with less perishable stuff and on the founda- 
 tions which they laid for the branches of music in 
 which they were adept great monuments have been 
 reared. Their genius and their musicianship were less 
 great than those of the elder Scarlatti, but their compo- 
 sitions were of a piece with reality, not, like his, the 
 adornment of a false and meaningless convention. 
 Hence their music still speaks for itself to-day, a lan- 
 guage sometimes thin, but in the main clear and strong, 
 whereas others must speak for Scarlatti. In the ora- 
 torios of Handel and in the vocal works of Bach the 
 best of what the Italian opera composers of the seven- 
 teenth century accomplished was perpetuated, and 
 Scarlatti was unquestionably the greatest of these com- 
 posers. The seeds of his genius were thus transplanted 
 from the sterile soil in which circumstances had forced 
 him to sow them and they bore fruit in strange forms 
 and ahen lands. 
 
 So ended the supremacy of the Italians in the his- 
 tory of music. After the death of Scarlatti the Neapoli- 
 tan opera became wholly trivial. The list of composers 
 is long. Some are distinguished by a certain elegance 
 of style, such as Feo, Vinci, and Cafaro, others by a 
 cleverness in handling the orchestra, such as Durante, 
 and still others, notably Porpora and Leo, were very 
 
 400 
 
BEGINNINGS OF FRENCH OPERA 
 
 great teachers of singing; but for the most, part they 
 were all as like as eggs and none added anything of 
 lasting value to music. The comic opera alone had 
 any real life. This, the last creation of the Italians, 
 was powerful in directing the course of music and will 
 be treated in another chapter. 
 
 Ill 
 
 What Alessandro Scarlatti did for opera in Italy, 
 LuUy had done for opera in France. The French op- 
 era, like the English opera, of which we have the one 
 splendid example in Purcell's 'Dido and iEneas,' was 
 of quite distinct origin from the Italian. Whereas the 
 Italian opera sprang from attempts to restore the 
 method of combining music and dramatic declamation, 
 practised by the Greeks, the French opera developed 
 from a form of entertainment that had long flourished 
 in France and was dear to the hearts of the French 
 people — the ballet. 
 
 The famous Ballet-comique de la royne given in 
 Paris at the Petit Bourbon on the 15th of October, 1581, 
 in honor of the marriage of the Due de Joyeuse and 
 Mademoiselle de Vaudemont, sister of King Henry III, 
 is in a sense the first attempt in France toward what 
 we now call opera. It was a magnificent spectacle in 
 which songs, choruses, and dancing played a part. The 
 plan of it was made by Baltasar de Beaujoyeaulx, whose 
 real name was Baltasarini, groom of the chamber to 
 the king and the queen mother (Catharine de Medici). 
 The music was by the Sieur de Beaulieu, whose true 
 name was probably Lambert, and another composer 
 named Salrnon, and the verses were by one named La 
 Chesnaye. A few excerpts from a contemporary ac- 
 count of the performance will best illustrate what the 
 ballet was. It was given before the king and his mother 
 
 401 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 and an assemblage of the highest nobles in France. 
 As for the overture the writer of the account says: 
 'After some measure of silence had been established 
 there came from behind the walls the sound of oboes, 
 cornets, sackbuts (trombones), and other sweet-toned 
 instruments,' After this the Sieur de la Roche, escap- 
 ing from a garden at the back of the hall, came and 
 delivered an address before the king. He was followed 
 by the sorceress Circe, from whom he had evidently 
 escaped and who was bent on having him back again. 
 But he eluded her and she returned to her garden. 
 Then three sirens and a triton appeared and sang a 
 chorus, which was echoed by singers concealed in a 
 golden arch at the back of the hall. They disappeared 
 and an immense fountain was drawn upon the stage by 
 two sea-horses; and about the fountain twelve naiads 
 were grouped, among whom were ladies of highest 
 rank, covered with gold and jewels. The fountain was 
 drawn round the room, spouting 'real water,' sur- 
 rounded by eight tritons playing lutes, harps, etc., and 
 by a dozen pages or more bearing lighted torches, all 
 singing. After this chorus, Glaucus and Thetis took 
 their place in chairs at the foot of the fountain and 
 sang a little dialogue to which the Tritons answered in 
 chorus. The fountain was then drawn off behind 
 Circe's garden, and ten violinists came forward, dressed 
 in white satin hung with gold, and played for the first 
 dance which was taken by the twelve pages and the 
 twelve naiads who had returned. Circe appeared, 
 furious, from her garden and laid all the dancers under 
 her spell so that they stood motionless, and then she 
 retired to her garden swollen with victory. Suddenly 
 there was a loud clap of thunder and Mercury ap- 
 peared, descending in a cloud from which he sang. He 
 then' stepped from his cloud and freed the dancers 
 from Circe's spell, whereupon they at once took up the 
 dance again. Mercury went back to his cloud and 
 
 402 
 
BALLET-COMIQUE DE LA ROYNE 
 
 Circe came again upon the scene and bewitched not 
 only the dancers, but Mercury himself, whose cloud 
 would not conceal him, so that they all followed her 
 two by two into her fatal garden. And here the garden 
 was brilliantly lit, and the spectators -saw walking 
 therein a stag, a dog, an elephant, a lion, a tiger, and 
 various other beasts who were once men, who now 
 had undergone Circe's spell. The first act ended here. 
 The second act opened with a five-part song for 
 satyrs to which the golden vault replied in echo. A 
 forest advanced across the floor of the hall, a forest 
 with a rock in the middle and oak trees hung with gar- 
 lands of gold, and four dryads to whom the satyrs sang 
 a song of welcome. The forest went before the king 
 and from its leafy depths a young dryad delivered a 
 speech to him; then the forest turned to the left and 
 proceeded to Pan's grotto. Here Pan welcomed the 
 dryads with a tune on his flute and they complained to 
 him of Circe who had imprisoned not only their play- 
 mates the naiads, but Mercury himself as well. There- 
 upon Pan promised his aid and the wood went away. 
 Entered then the four virtues, two of whom played 
 upon the lute while the other two sang a little duet. 
 The golden vault responded with an instrumental piece 
 in five parts, and then Minerva approached in a car 
 drawn by a huge serpent, Minerva bringing the head of 
 Medusa. She delivered yet another address to the king 
 and invoked Jupiter, who, after a few claps of thunder, 
 descended in a cloud. He stood on his cloud and sang 
 a song, after which the cloud deposited him upon the 
 floor and he went off with Minerva to Pan's grotto. 
 Poor Pan was soundly scolded by Minerva for having 
 let Circe steal away the naiads and Mercury. Pan, 
 though replying that the power to overcome Circe be- 
 longed alone to Minerva, none the less started off for 
 Circe's garden followed by eight satyrs armed with 
 knobbed and thorny clubs. Minerva went along, too, 
 
 403 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 to the assault, but Jupiter was left alone on the stage. 
 Once before Circe's stronghold, that wily lady har- 
 angued her assailants and made fun of Minerva and of 
 Jupiter. To Jupiter she said: 'If any one is destined 
 to triumph over me, it is the king of France, to whom 
 you, even as I, must yield the realm you possess.' 
 Minerva and her heroes broke down the door of Circe's 
 garden and Jupiter struck the lady herself with a thun- 
 derbolt, who thereupon fell senseless to the floor. 
 Minerva got possession of the magic wand, released 
 those who had been chained by Circe's spell, and at 
 last restored Circe herself, who joined with her to lead 
 a procession of all who had taken part in the play 
 around the hall. Then followed a grand ballet before 
 the king. 
 
 This performance of the Ballet-comique de la royne 
 lasted five hours and a half and the cost of producing it 
 was more than three million six hundred thousand 
 francs. This was approximately a century before the 
 performance of 'Berenice' in Padua, of which mention 
 has been made in a previous chapter; but whereas the 
 Italian opera degenerated into a scenic display, the 
 French opera resulted from a cutting down of lavish 
 extravagance and uniting the various scenes and chor- 
 uses with musical declamation. 
 
 The ballet remained the favorite diversion of the 
 French court down to the middle of the seventeenth 
 century, though the splendor of this Ballet-comique 
 was never reproduced. Though it approached what :we 
 now call opera, it remained ditferentiated from opera 
 in a few fundamental points. Parts were taken by 
 members of the court society, the whole entertainment 
 was planned to flatter the king so that the lines spoken 
 by the players were often directed to the monarch in 
 the manner of Circe's lesson to Jupiter which we have 
 just quoted, and there were long addresses without 
 music and without relation to the plot of the ballet. 
 
 404 
 
CAMBERT AND PERRIN 
 
 In 1645 and 1646 Cardinal Mazarin invited Italian 
 singers to give an exhibition of their opera in Paris. 
 They were coldly received. In Perrin's' famous letter 
 to his protector, the Cardinal de la Rovera, April 30, 
 1659, the Italian music was likened to plain-song and 
 airs from the cloister. Yet it was with the aim of mak- 
 ing an opera for the French on the plan of the Italian 
 opera that Perrin wrote his Pastoral in 1659, for which 
 Cambert composed the music. This pastoral in music, 
 called sometimes L'opera d'Issy, was performed at Issy 
 near Paris with great success. There was present such 
 a crowd of princes, dukes, peers, and marshals of 
 France that the whole way from Paris to Issy was 
 thronged with their coaches. There was not room in 
 tlie hall for all who came. Those who could find no 
 place were patient, promenading through the gardens 
 or holding court on the lawns. By express order of 
 his majesty Louis XIV, the Pastoral was repeated at 
 the palace of Vincennes. So French opera was inaugu- 
 rated. 
 
 Of Cambert, who vsrote the music, little is known. 
 He had lessons on the harpsichord from Chambon- 
 nieres, the Nestor of French clavicinists, he was organ- 
 ist at the Church of St. Honore, and following the suc- 
 cess of the Pastoral he was appointed superintendent 
 of music to Anne of Austria, mother of Louis XIV. 
 For more than ten years after the Pastoral Perrin and 
 Cambert kept relatively silent. There are a few drink- 
 ing songs by Cambert which belong to this time, but the 
 two men rest in obscurity until the first performance 
 of their opera Pomone on the 19th of March, 1671, at 
 the Tennis Court near the Rue Guenegaud. In 1669 
 Perrin had obtained from Louis XIV the permit 'to es- 
 tablish throughout the kingdom- academies of opera, 
 or representations with music in the French language 
 after the manner of those in Italy.' Perrin secured 
 Cambert to write music for these representations, and 
 
 405 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Pomone, their joint product, is the first opera publicly 
 performed in Paris. A great part of their singers had 
 been recruited from churches in the country, but the 
 success of this first performance was enormous. Only 
 the music of one act has been preserved. It is childish, 
 but at moments may stand favorably by that of LuUy. 
 What makes it so heavy to our ears are the long pas- 
 sages of dull, unrhythmical recitative which, from the 
 point of view of music, are vague and ill-formed. 
 
 To Cambert and Perrin must be given the honor of 
 having established French opera. To them was 
 awarded the first royal warrant to give opera through- 
 out the kingdom. Pomone was an auspicious begin- 
 ning; but within a year trouble had come between the 
 two men, and Cambert's next opera was set to words 
 by another poet, Gilbert, well known in his day. And 
 then, apparently as sequence to the split between Cam- 
 bert and Perrin, Cambert was himself deprived of his 
 royal rights, the opera was given into the hands of one 
 sole man, who had long been plotting to acquire it, 
 and Cambert departed to England. 
 
 IV 
 
 This one man, Jean Baptiste LuUy (or Lulli), was 
 born in Florence or near there in 1633. He had come 
 to Paris when a boy of twelve or thirteen in the suite 
 of the Due de Guise, knowing little of music, save the 
 guitar. He had been a kitchen boy in the service of 
 Mile, de Montpensier, and now, in 1672, was given sole 
 control over opera throughout the kingdom of France. 
 The way in which he won favor with the king shows 
 him to have been an intriguer, and the king to have 
 had little genuine appreciation of music apart from 
 the tunes to which he danced in the court ballets. 
 LuUy was at first admitted into the king's band of 
 
 406 
 
JEAN BAPTISTE LULLY 
 
 violins, and later was made head of a special band. 
 Not only was he a ready composer of dances to the 
 king's taste; he was himself a dancer and a mimic. 
 In Moliere's comedy-ballets to which he was commis- 
 sioned to compose music he often acted with much- 
 admired skill. As to his treatment of Moliere the less 
 said perhaps the better. He was a skillful manager, he 
 was always ready with some amusement for the court. 
 From the start he played for the royal favor, and he 
 won it. Not only was he given the sole authority to 
 produce operas in France; Cambert was even denied 
 the right to produce his as well. 
 
 LuUy had no systematic training as a musician, but 
 he learned from all he came in contact with; from 
 Cambert, who had written music for the ballets; from 
 Cavalli, who came to Paris with his Xerxes in 1660; 
 and again with Ercole amante in 1662, to both of which 
 LuUy was commissioned to set ballets that they might 
 meet with the requirements of French courtly taste. 
 From 1672, when he gained control of the opera, to his 
 death, in 1687, he wrote an opera, a tragedie lyrique, 
 every year. His manner of composing, according to 
 Lecerf de la Vieville (1705) was as follows : 'He read 
 the libretto until he knew it nearly by heart; he would 
 then sit down at his harpsichord, sing over the words 
 again and again, pounding the harpsichord; his snuff- 
 box at one end of it, the keys dirty and covered with 
 tobacco (for he was very slovenly). When he had fin- 
 ished singing and had got his songs well in his head, 
 his secretaries, Lalouette or CoUasse, came, and to 
 them he dictated. The next day he could hardly re- 
 member what he had dictated.' 
 
 LuUy was a clever, exceedingly intelligent man, a 
 good actor, a good clown, a good dancer, an unscrupu- 
 lous plotter, an iron disciplinarian. Not only did he 
 write the music to his operas, he superintended and 
 often remodelled the libretti furnished him by Quinault, 
 
 407 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 the poet of his own choosing. He was indefatigably 
 painstaking. He coached the singers even to the way 
 they should enter and leave the stage, and he drilled 
 the orchestra so that it had a precision, the traditions 
 of which endured for more than a century. He was 
 not a great musician. One may believe that he left 
 the filling out of his harmonies to his secretaries, La- 
 louette and CoUasse. His airs and his choruses are 
 in the ballet style of the century. Only in recitative 
 did he accomplish anything new. He wrote his operas 
 at the same time Racine was producing many of his 
 most famous tragedies — ^Racine, who was a master of 
 verse and of declamation; and he modelled his recita- 
 tive according to Racine's art of declamation. The 
 great law of it is that it shall be syllabic, one syllable 
 to one musical tone. Music is here in strict bondage 
 to words. Lecerf says that the recitative as developed 
 by LuUy is a just mean between tragic declamation 
 and the art of music. According to L. de la Laurencie * 
 a comparison of LuUy's recitative with the recitative 
 of Carissimi or of Provenzale shows that LuUy pro- 
 ceeded to a clearing of the Italian technique, cutting 
 from it all the absurd weeds which the taste for bel 
 canto and even musical taste in the strict sense had 
 let grow in the garden of melody. We have in the reci- 
 tative of LuUy, then, something that is not music, but 
 a mean between declamation and music. Often stiff 
 and monotonous, it is only rarely impassioned and 
 effective. Always the words, the rhyme and the verse 
 are of paramount importance. In this regard it was 
 so much to the taste of the French audiences, of the 
 precieux, that LuUy's operas came to be valued far 
 more for their recitative than for their airs. The reci- 
 tative became not an artificial bond between airs and 
 choruses, but the main burden of the bpera, as indeed 
 it should be; and in this respect he is a great reformer 
 
 * Le goUt musical en France (1905). 
 
 408 
 
Jean-Baptiste de LuUy 
 
FRANQOIS COUPERIN 
 
 and akin to Monteverdi on the one hand and Gluck 
 on the other. He is the founder of the admirable 
 French style of declamation. Thus the opera of LuUy 
 and the opera of Scarlatti are strikingly different. Both 
 were bound to a strict public convention, but Scar- 
 latti wrote for the bel canto. LuUy for declamation; 
 the Italians craved the sensuous beauty of the voice 
 in song and let the drama go; the French demanded 
 intelligent declamation, and sacrificed music. Of the 
 two the French opera was essentially more rational 
 and nearer artistic truth, though even in Lully's life- 
 time it became wholly stereotyped; and neither form 
 as it left the hands of its finisher was capable of further 
 development until infused with new life by a great 
 reformer such as Gluck. 
 
 To Lully as a musician belongs the credit of hav- 
 ing given definite form to his overtures. The so-called 
 French overture as he established it was generally in 
 two parts or movements — the first slow and serious, 
 the second lively and in vigorous, fugal style. Some- 
 times a third movement recalhng the first was added. 
 These overtures were much admired in their day and 
 during the next century, and the form was adopted by 
 most of the German composers as the first movement 
 of the orchestral suite, and by Handel for overtures 
 to his oratorios. Lully seems to have been most suc- 
 cessful in instrumental music of a 'noble and martial 
 kind.' Marches from his operas were actually played 
 for soldiers in the field, and 'when the prince of 
 Orange wanted marches for his troops, he had re- 
 course to Lully, who sent him one.' All of Lully's airs 
 and especially his dance tunes have a simplicity and 
 a clearness of outline which secured to them a popu- 
 larity not forgotten even to-day. It is music easy to 
 remember, vigorous in rhythm and in sentiment, posi- 
 tive and definite, often poor in harmony and grace and 
 never subtle, but on the other hand never vague or 
 
 409 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 weak. As far as it goes it goes unfalteringly and with 
 a sureness that challenges respect and is at times su- 
 perb. 
 
 After the death of LuUy, early in 1687, French opera 
 subsisted upon what he had left it. There was no man 
 to take over his supreme dictatorship and until 1723, 
 when Rameau began to write for the stage, no operas 
 of any influence were written in Paris. Conventional 
 form was too strong even for a man like Charpentier, 
 whose musical gifts seem to have been higher than 
 LuUy's. Desmarets, Des Touches and Campra are 
 hardly more than imitators of LuUy. LuUy stands 
 alone in the history of French opera during the seven- 
 teenth century as absolute a despot in the realm of 
 music as his great patron, Louis XIV, over the lands 
 of Europe. He won his place by intrigue, he kept it 
 by an enormous strength of will and perseverance and 
 by shrewd observation of the court taste. 
 
 There was no more genuine critical appreciation 
 of music in France during the gorgeous reign of Louis 
 XIV than there was in Italy, Germany or England at 
 the same time. According to M. Combarieu,* there 
 was no more real pubUc than there were true critics 
 — a few wits writing verses and publishing their dis- 
 likes or their flatteries, their naive admiration for 
 banal prowess in virtuosity. The mark of the king is 
 on all music; music for the king's ballets, for the king's 
 opera, for the king's suppers, for the king's fetes, and 
 above it all the haughty, majestic king. LuUy and Ra- 
 cine, LuUy and Moliere! 
 
 In salon music courtly elegance shines in minia- 
 ture. After the death of LuUy a young man grew into 
 prominence who was to win from the king his own 
 
 * Bistotre de la musique. Vol, I. 
 
 410 
 
FRANgOIS COUPERIN 
 
 appellation, the Great — ^Frangois Couperin, He was 
 born of a family of famous musicians in Paris in 1668. 
 From 1693 he was organist to the king in the chapel 
 at Versailles, and in 1696 he was elected organist of 
 St. Gervais, a post which had been held for many years 
 by members of his family; but though he is said to 
 have been an excellent organist, his fame now rests 
 upon his skill in playing and writing for the clavecin. 
 He was private teacher to princes and princesses, to 
 the highest ladies of the land, and never by one note 
 did he offend against the precise and elegant etiquette 
 in the midst of which he was formed. He was an ex- 
 quisite dainty stylist in music, a painter of delicate 
 miniature portraits. Porcelain is not more fragile than 
 his music, nor crystals of frost clearer cut. There is 
 no suggestion of feeling too deep for elegance. A 
 touch of courtly tenderness, a mood of courtly melan- 
 choly are the nadir of his emotion. His little works 
 for the clavecin are masterpieces of form and style. 
 They never suggest the great power of music to express 
 the Are of man's heart and the struggle of his soul. 
 
 Lacking the daring brilliance of Scarlatti's sonatas, 
 they are none the less perfectly suited to the thin, 
 frosty instrument for which they were written. For 
 many years they stood as perfect models of harpsi- 
 chord style and their influence can be traced in the 
 works of all his contemporaries, even in those of J. S. 
 Bach. Four sets of them were printed in 1713, 1717, 
 1722, and 1730. There are twenty-seven suites or 
 ordres, each containing a varying number of little 
 pieces which no longer bear dance names nor empha- 
 size dance rhythms, but are given suggestive, dainty 
 names after the style of Gaultier and Chambonnieres. 
 Many of them are portraits of court ladies of the time. 
 La douce et piquante, La majestueuse, L'enchan- 
 tresse, L'engageante, L'attendrissante, L'ingenue, etc. 
 Others affect the fashionable pastoral romance, such 
 
 411 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 as Les bergeries, Le barolet fiottant. La fleurie, ou la 
 tendre Nanette; others are bits of delicate realism, Les 
 petits moulins a vent, Le carillon de Cythere, etc.; and 
 a few have highly colored names such as Fureurs 
 bachiques and Les enjouements bachiques. Besides 
 these ordres he published transcriptions of works by 
 Corelli and LuUy which were called Apothese de Co- 
 relli, and Apothese de V incomparable Lully. 
 
 In all his work there is an unblemished purity of 
 style, a charm of melody, a delicate sense of harmony. 
 They are all very highly ornamented with trills, mor- 
 dants, turns, etc., which often sound too heavy on the 
 modern pianoforte, but which were necessary in music 
 for the harpsichord with its thin tone and lack of all 
 sustaining power. His 'Art of Playing the Harpsi- 
 chord,' published in 1717, had an enormous influence. 
 A passage of it almost brings Couperin, court clave- 
 cinist, before our eyes. These are his directions for 
 having a correct appearance when playing: 'One 
 should turn the body a little to the right while at the 
 harpsichord. Do not keep the knees too close together; 
 have the feet parallel, but the right foot a little for- 
 ward. One can easily correct oneself of the habit of 
 making faces while playing by putting a mirror on the 
 desk of the harpsichord. It is much more becoming 
 not to mark time with the head, the body, or the feet. 
 One must affect an easy appearance before the 
 clavecin, without looking too fixedly at any one object, 
 nor on the other hand looking vague. Look at the au- 
 dience, if there is one, as if one were doing nothing 
 in particular (this for those who play without their 
 notes) .' 
 
 Undoubtedly here is a refinement of art which has 
 never since been equalled, a neatness and precision in 
 every detail; but it brought with it a self -consciousness 
 and a suppression of virile emotion, made of music 
 an exquisite toy and of the musician a coiu'tier. Cou- 
 
 412 
 
JEAN PHILIPPE RAMEAU 
 
 perin's music suffers more by being played on the mod- 
 ern pianoforte than that of his contemporaries, Scar- 
 latti, Handel, and Bach. The greater sonority of tone 
 clouds the fragile perfect workmanship. There is in 
 it no depth of emotion nor daring brilliance to meet 
 the strength of the new instrument. As music they 
 belong to their time; as works of perfect art they are 
 imperishable. 
 
 Couperin died in 1733, just as the last and greatest 
 of the French composers of this time, Jean Philippe 
 Rameau, was about to bring out his first opera, Hip- 
 polyte et Aricie. Rameau was fifty years old. His life 
 had been hard and varied. He had been organist in a 
 provincial town; he had published sets of pieces for 
 harpsichord in Paris; he had published in 1722 a trea- 
 tise on harmony, the first of his many important works 
 on that subject; he had been engaged in writing ballets 
 for the theatre, and made himself a favorite music- 
 master among ladies of high rank. At the house of 
 La Poupliniere he had met Voltaire and with him had 
 written an opera, 'Samson,' which had been forbidden 
 by the Academy on the eve of its performance. At 
 last, on the 1st of October, 1733, Hippolyte et Aricie 
 was produced at the Academy. It brought a storm of 
 abuse upon the composer who had dared to attempt 
 more than a slavish imitation of LuUy. He gradually 
 won some respect and continued to write operas, 
 among which Castor et Pollux (1737), commonly con- 
 sidered his masterpiece, achieved a marked and con- 
 tinued success. However, no success would silence his 
 detractors. Rousseau made himself the mouthpiece 
 for those who cried him down. And in 1746, just when 
 he had succeeded in overcoming the violent hostility 
 of the LuUists, a company of Italian singers at the 
 Comedie italienne won over a half of the Parisian pub- 
 lic so that Rameau found himself engaged in another 
 and yet fiercer struggle as defender and head of 
 
 413 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 French music against the Italian invaders. The malice 
 and brutaUty of this famous Guerre des bouffons are 
 incredible, but the whole affair points unmistakably 
 to a state of society in which all critical judgment had 
 given way to unenlightened prejudiced controversy. 
 Rameau won but a temporary victory. After his death, 
 in 1764, Itahan opera was supreme in Paris until the 
 arrival of Gliick. 
 
 Rameau's operas are aesthetically different from 
 LuUy's. Less skillful than LuUy in recitative, he far 
 excels him in genuineness of feeling and in harmony. 
 Rameau was a great musician. His studies in harmony 
 were profound and far-reaching in their effect, and 
 the texture of his music was softened and warmly col- 
 ored by a richness of chords and modulation. His 
 works for the harpsichord are not so polished as Cou- 
 perin's, but are more virile; and the last set (1736) 
 shows the influence of Scarlatti. What is most striking 
 about him is his independence of court life and conven- 
 tion. LuUy was backed by the most powerful monarch 
 in Europe, whose protection assured him success. Ra- 
 meau had nothing to hope for from the debauched 
 court of Louis XV, in spite of the official royal recog- 
 nition. He withstood the most venomous attacks alone, 
 and by the courage and power of his own will made 
 himself head and champion of the music of his coun- 
 try. 
 
 VI 
 
 At the end of the seventeenth century and the be- 
 ginning of the eighteenth, Germany was under the in- 
 fluence of the French and of the Italians. In Ham- 
 burg there was the nearest approach to a national 
 spirit. Hamburg was one of the most brilliant opera 
 towns, but, whereas in Dresden, Berlin, Munich, and 
 Vienna the Italian opera was supreme and Italian sing- 
 
 414 
 
Jean-Philippe Rameau 
 
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY IN GERMANY 
 
 ers and Italian composers held sway, in Hamburg 
 operas were with few exceptions given in German 
 and were fm^nished by German composers. It must 
 be said, however, that most of the composers were 
 strongly under the influence of the Italians or of LuUy, 
 and many of the libretti were translations or adapta- 
 tions of Italian libretti. Chief among the composers 
 stands Reinhard Keiser, a man of loose principles and 
 luxurious life, but of extraordinary musical facility. 
 Apart from a great deal of sacred music, he wrote not 
 less than one hundred and sixteen operas. It was while 
 he was at the height of his fame that Handel came to 
 Hamburg. 
 
 At Hamburg also was Johann Mattheson, first of all 
 a singer under Keiser, then a conductor and composer. 
 But his compositions have all been forgotten, and he 
 is important now only as the writer of 'Foundations 
 for a German Roll of Honor' and 'The Complete Ka- 
 pellmeister,' both of which are the source of much that 
 is known about German music previous and up to his 
 time. The Roll of Honor is a series of short biogra- 
 phies of German composers. Living composers were 
 asked to write an account of themselves for it. Bach 
 seems to have been invited to do so and to have de- 
 chned the invitation. Mattheson is also remembered 
 for his duel with Handel. 
 
 The most prolific of all composers in Germany was 
 Telemann, friend of Mattheson and Handel, but of his 
 works nothing is remembered. Of more importance 
 is Karl Heinrich Graun, who was head of the Italian 
 opera in Dresden and Berlin, and whose Te Deum, 
 composed after the victory of Frederick the Great at 
 Prague (1756), and Tod Jesu are still heard. As pre- 
 cursor of Bach in the St. Thomas school in Leipzig, 
 Kuhnau is of interest. He was a staunch musician of 
 the old school, a man of remarkable learning. In the 
 history of German clavier music he is the most im- 
 
 415 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 portant figure before Bach. His Sonata aus dem B 
 seems to be the first piece of clavier music in three 
 movements not dance tunes. They w^ere published in 
 Leipzig in 1695. In the next year appeared his 'Fresh 
 Clavier Fruit or Seven Sonatas' and after those his 
 'Biblical Sonatas,' which are surely among the most 
 curious records of music in an age gone by. They 
 are frankly program music. Each sonata consists of 
 a number of little pieces illustrative of some story from 
 the Bible. There are the story of David and Goliath, 
 the story of Jacob and Leah, the story of Saul and 
 David. It was in imitation of them that Bach wrote 
 his only piece of program music, the Capriccio on the 
 departure of his brother to the wars. 
 
 J. J. Fux was from 1698 to 1741 a court composer 
 in Vienna, greatly beloved and admired. He is re- 
 membered more as a teacher than as a composer, and 
 his text book in the form of dialogues Gradus ad Par- 
 nassum was for a century one of the standard books 
 on composition. 
 
 In Dresden the figure of Hasse, the Saxon, becomes 
 prominent after 1731. He was perhaps the most suc- 
 cessful opera composer of his day. Probably not a 
 little of his success was due to the glorious singing of 
 his wife Faustina. Hasse, too, was a friend of Handel 
 and of Bach. 
 
 Reiser, Mattheson, Telemann, Graun, Hasse, Kuhnau, 
 and a host of others, all prominent in their day, have 
 been forever obscured by the glory of J. S. Bach and 
 Handel. As we have chosen Purcell, Scarlatti, Corelli, 
 LuUy, Couperin and Rameau to represent what the 
 musical genius of England, Italy and France was able 
 to build upon the foundation of Italian experiment in 
 the first half of the seventeenth century, so we must 
 choose Bach and Handel to represent Germany. Ger- 
 many was a little behind the other nations of Europe 
 to present what the sum of a century was to her. This 
 
 416 
 
THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY IN GERMANY 
 
 was partly owing to the destruction of the Thirty Years 
 War from which she was slow to recover, partly be- 
 cause she had no central capital like London and Paris 
 to foster the best of her native genius. Yet all the ex- 
 periment, all the enthusiasm, all the labor of the seven- 
 teenth century are gathered up in the work of her two 
 great sons; all other composers of all other nations are 
 small beside their genius. 
 
 L. H. 
 
 417 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HANDEL AND THE ORATORI6 
 
 The consequences of the seventeenth century: Bach and Handel — Han- 
 del's early life; the opera at Hamburg; the German oratorio — The Italian 
 period, 'Rodrigo,' 'Agrippina,' and 'Resurrezione' — Music in England; Han- 
 del as opera composer and impresario — Origins of the Handelian oratorio; 
 from 'Esther' to 'The Messiah' — ^Handel's instrumental music; conclusion. 
 
 In myriad ways the seventeenth century had 
 wrought a mighty task. Founding their practice upon 
 the technique acquired by previous generations, its 
 composers had evolved definite styles of composition, 
 both in the polyphonic and the monodic schools. The 
 demand for greater sonority had caused them to ex- 
 ploit the harmonic resources of music more than be- 
 fore; the perfection of instruments and instrumental 
 technique had stimulated melodic invention and 
 rhythmic variety, and this increased technique had in 
 turn been applied to vocal music, which, beginning 
 with Caccini in 1600, had developed a marvellous vir- 
 tuosity demanding ever greater means of display. 
 While the old vocal polyphony had largely yielded its 
 sway to the mbre individualistic art of solo singing, 
 its technique and ideals were preserved in the instru- 
 mental forms of chamber music, which, as we have 
 seen, crystallized during the course of the century, and, 
 as the same composers were bound to essay both styles, 
 a union of the two had, in a measure, been effected. 
 
 In such a period of transition there was little chance 
 for ultimate perfection; it was an age of innovators 
 rather than masters. Yet the century had produced 
 some great men, too : Alessandro Scarlatti and Arcan- 
 
 418 
 
HANDEL'S EARLY LIFE 
 
 gelo Corelli in Italy, LuUy, Rameau and Couperin in 
 France, Schutz, Froberger, and Kuhnau were men of 
 no small attainments. Their work had sufficient power 
 and charm to gain acceptance for the new styles and 
 to popularize them. Rut it remained for another gen- 
 eration to bring forth two men great enough to make 
 them survive through posterity, to give them lasting 
 life. Those two men were Georg Friedrich Handel and 
 Johann Sebastian Rach. It is notable that both came 
 of the same spiritual stock, that of the Thuringian 
 church organists — that contemplative, sequestered 
 school of artists, — imbued with a homely philosophy 
 and influenced by the sweet quietude of German do- 
 mesticity, — ^which wrought for the glory of God and 
 the uplift of the human soul. Handel * and Rach were 
 born within one month of each other, and within a 
 very short distance, for Eisenach is less than an hour's 
 run from Halle, where Handel saw the light of day, 
 February 23d, 1685. They were as nearly contempo- 
 raries, in the literal sense, as men can be — Rach died 
 but nine years before his colleague, — ^but in spirit they 
 were generations removed from one another. Curi- 
 ous as it is that they never in their life met, though 
 well acquainted with each other's work, we may find 
 a psychological explanation for the fact in that Han- 
 del represented the spirit and apogee of his age, sum- 
 ming up the achievements of the generations immedi- 
 ately gone before, while Rach, penetrating into the very 
 essence of the music of past ages, evolved from it a 
 new art that should inspire the musicians of genera- 
 tions to come, that should go surging down through 
 the centuries like a mighty everlasting stream from 
 which the genius of composers could draw continu- 
 ous inspiration without the danger of exhaustion, an 
 art so great that it had to break aU the shackles and 
 
 * We shall hereafter adhere to the English spelling of the name, without 
 the Umlaut. 
 
 419 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 restrictions of its time and build for itself a new sys- 
 tem, create a new language. 
 
 Who shall say which of the two men had the greater 
 talent? Their difference is one of character, not of 
 degree. Bach, exploring quietly the resources of his 
 own soul, hardly stirred from his narrow surround- 
 ings; Handel, of infinite flexibility and adaptability, ap- 
 propriated every style, every trick, every brilliant ef- 
 fect he heard, imbuing it with new power. Restlessly 
 he roamed to Berlin and Hamburg, to Italy, and finally 
 to England, everywhere sweeping up in his mighty 
 grasp the achievements of men gone before him, in- 
 defatigably composing and rousing a wondering world 
 to new enthusiasms. Bach, unmindful of the public 
 taste, retiring, profound, inexorable; Handel constantly 
 trimming his sails to the wind of public favor, achiev- 
 ing success after success, not by new means, but by 
 using those at his command with the full power of 
 genius. From early youth he felt the stirrings of that 
 genius; before he was seven, indeed, he had taught 
 himself to play upon the harpsichord, — surrep- 
 titiously, we are told, for his father, village surgeon at 
 Giebichenstein, near Halle, intent upon the social ad- 
 vancement of his son, was so fearful of his son's de- 
 veloping a 'non-productive' talent that he even refused 
 to send him to school, lest he should learn his notes. 
 Well known is the story of how admiring friends 
 smuggled the harpsichord into the garret, where young 
 Georg would delight his heart in the still hours of the 
 night. No less known, also, are the circumstances of 
 his father's journey to the court of Saxe-Weissenfels, 
 where a son by a former marriage was valet-de- 
 chambre to the duke. Young Handel insisted on fol- 
 
 420 
 
HANDEL'S EARLY LIFE 
 
 lowing the carriage on foot until his father relented 
 and took him to the court, where he came in contact 
 with the duke's musicians and was permitted to play 
 upon the organ. It was at the duke's peremptory ad- 
 vice that the father finally consented to give his boy 
 a musical training. F. W. Zachau, the organist of the 
 Liebfrauenkirche, which raises its tall spires in the 
 market-place of Halle, where opposite it we now be- 
 hold Handel's monument, became his master. For 
 three years he was made to compose a sacred motet 
 every week, by way of exercise. When, in 1696, Han- 
 del was sent on a visit to Berlin, he already astounded 
 musicians like Attilio Ariosti by his powers of impro- 
 visation, though the famous Bononcini, who was later 
 to become his bitter rival, seems already to have looked 
 upon the boy with suspicion, for he gave him the dif- 
 ficult test of playing a newly composed fugue at sight, 
 which Handel promptly fulfilled. The elector of Bran- 
 denburg desired to attach him to his court and send 
 him to Italy for further study, but to forestall this he 
 was summoned to return home, and again placed in 
 charge of the competent Zachau. In the next year his 
 father died, and, obliged to support himself and his 
 mother, he secured, on probation, the post of organist 
 at the Dom-und Schlosskirche, at the same time enter- 
 ing the university — that university so closely identified 
 with Protestant theology — as a student. 
 
 Handel's nature was not one to tolerate the compara- 
 tive seclusion and retirement of Halle for long. More- 
 over, it inclined to a style of music less austere than 
 that of the Lutheran church — so that when echoes of 
 quite a different school, joined to reports of brilliant 
 successes, reached his ears, he gave them ready heed. 
 Such reports came from Hamburg, now the chief 
 stronghold of Italian opera in Germany. In order to 
 explain its existence we must for a moment turn the 
 reader's mind back to the already related importation 
 
 421 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of opera into Germany in 1627 and its first exponent 
 there — ^Heinrich Schiitz, This event had been followed 
 by operatic performances — in Itahan — at Regensburg 
 {L'inganno d'amore, by Ferrari, 1653); Vienna (An- 
 tonio Draghi's Alcindo and Cloridia, 1655) ; and Munich 
 (Giulio Riva's Adelaida Regia Principiosa di Susa). 
 But no further attempt at opera in German was made 
 till the appearance at Hamburg of Johann Teile's sing- 
 spiel, Adam und Eva, in 1678. By virtue of this com- 
 poser's efforts Hamburg attained the operatic suprem- 
 acy of Germany. Names now all but forgotten, Johann 
 Fortsch, Johann Franck, Johann Cousser, were 
 staunch pioneers in the cause of German art at this 
 northern output, though their Germanism no doubt 
 suffered a generous admixture of Italian influence. 
 The same is true of the work of the triumvirate of the 
 Hamburg opera — Reiser, Mattheson, and Telemann — 
 which held sway there from the early sixties on. The 
 first of these produced no less than 116, and probably 
 more, operas for Hamburg during 1694-1734. To him 
 especially the opera house owed its word-wide fame — 
 to his work as impresario perhaps more than as com- 
 poser, for, from Basilius (first performed at Wolfen- 
 biittel in 1693 and the next year in Hamburg) to Circe, 
 his swan song of forty years after, all the works that 
 were able to arouse enthusiasm in his time are but 
 names to us. Nevertheless Reiser may well count as 
 having placed German opera upon a firm foundation. 
 The style of his works, rediscovered in 1810, is more 
 German than that of his colleagues and, though less 
 remarkable for rhetorical perfection, compares favor- 
 ably with LuUy's in the matter of variety of expression 
 and dramatic truth. 
 
 Handel had already met Telemann, Reiser's col- 
 league, who passed through Halle in 1701, and it was 
 not unlikely that he received from that exponent of 
 the operatic style an impulse toward greater melodi- 
 
 422 
 
HANDEL'S EARLY LIFE 
 
 ousness than he was likely to receive from Zachau. 
 Agostino Steffani, another melodist, also visited Halle 
 in 1703. In the same year we see Handel set out for 
 Hamburg, in order to have himself thoroughly 'made 
 over' under the influence of its famous operatic school. 
 He joined the orchestra of Keiser's Opera House as 
 violino ripieno, passing himself off as a novice, but, 
 when Reiser went into hiding from his creditors, Han- 
 del promptly took his place at the harpsichord and 
 shone forth as conductor so brilliantly that he was re- 
 tained upon Keiser's return. Here he also met Matthe- 
 son, the brilliant composer and theorist, then slightly 
 older than himself. An anecdote of their early friend- 
 ship recounts how the two went to Liibeck to apply for 
 an organist's position, but speedily returned when they 
 learned that the new incumbent was obliged to marry 
 his predecessor's daughter. This friendship came to 
 a sudden end when, during a performance of Matthe- 
 son's 'Cleopatra,' in which the composer was wont to 
 conduct and also to sing the role of Antonio while Han- 
 del substituted at the harpsichord. Upon one occasion 
 the latter stubbornly refused to yield his place, after 
 the supposed death of Antonio, to the resuscitated hero, 
 and a quarrel ensued, resulting in a duel in which it is 
 said Handel's life was barely saved by the protection 
 afforded by a brass button. 
 
 It was not long before Handel made his own debut 
 in opera: both 'Almira' and 'Nero' were produced in 
 1705. Keiser's influence is felt in these works. They 
 are distinguished by much of the melodious charm 
 which has saved the favorite Lascia ch'io pianga from 
 oblivion. This rare gem was originally composed as a 
 sarabande in one of Handel's early chamber works; its 
 use in the opera preludes what was to become a com- 
 mon practice with Handel in musical economy. That 
 Keiser was already jealous of his young rival is evi- 
 denced by the fact that he himself reset the libretto of 
 
 423 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 'Nero' and performed it at the Hamburg opera in place 
 of Handel's. 
 
 We may remind the writer at this point that the 
 German opera in Hamburg, despite its many incon- 
 gruities, was the only opera at that time aiming at 
 dramatic fidelity. Public taste had run to vocalization 
 pure and simple, and singers were the sole arbiters of 
 operatic style. In the Hamburg opera the recitatives, 
 which fully explained the story, were sung in German, 
 while the arias, in the prevailing florid Italian style, 
 were sung in Italian, as the vernacular was not consid- 
 ered a suitable medium for vocal display. The orches- 
 tra was a combination of instruments aiming at quan- 
 titative rather than qualitative sonority, the string body 
 consisting of two violin parts, and 'cellos and basses 
 playing in unison, while the wood wind — chiefly oboes 
 and bassoons — usually doubled the string parts. "What 
 the eff'ect must have been can be imagined when we 
 consider that in one of Handel's operas he used twenty- 
 six oboes, while there were but six flutes, generally 
 used only as an obbligato instrument. The harmonic 
 basis was furnished, as in the oldest Italian operas, by 
 the Figured Bass played upon the harpsichord, which 
 formed the centre of the orchestra. Two other Handel 
 operas were performed at Hamburg during 1705-1706, 
 namely, 'Daphne' and 'Florinda.' In the latter year 
 we already see him on his way to Italy. 
 
 In the meantime, however, Handel had essayed an- 
 other form of composition then popular in Germany — 
 the passion oratorio. The Lutheran church had 
 adopted from the Catholic the practice of reciting the 
 history of the passion at vespers during holy week. 
 This had given an opportunity to composers for a pe- 
 culiarly profound religious expression in music. Hein- 
 rich Schiitz must be named as the chief representative 
 of passion music before Bach, though nearly sixty 
 works of similar character have been preserved to us 
 
 424 
 
THE OPERA AT HAMBURG 
 
 from before his time. The narrative was divided into 
 three parts representing Christ, the Evangelist, and the 
 people, which originally had been sung in chorus, but, 
 with the rise of monody, the first two were chanted 
 by single voices. Except a few introductory words, the 
 entire text was made up of scriptural narrative, but 
 later the beautiful chorale tunes sung by the Lutheran 
 congregation were interspersed by way of reflective 
 comment. This all became so fast-bound a convention 
 that when Keiser produced his passion set to the words 
 of Menantes at Hamburg in 1704 the church censured 
 him severely for omitting the chorale element. En- 
 tirely original music had been used for the passion 
 service, however, as early as 1672 by Sebastiani. 
 
 Handel's Ein kleines Passions-Oratorium, composed 
 in 1704, was arranged from the Gospel of St. John, into 
 which he introduced contemplative airs, instead of 
 chorales. The chorus is mostly in five parts; the part 
 of Pilate is taken by an alto, Christ by a tenor, and the 
 Evangelist by a bass. He introduces a more elaborate 
 accompaniment for the dramatically heightened ecce 
 homo passage, while the biblical speeches are set in 
 aria form. There are also duets, and a fugato chorus is 
 sung by the soldiers casting lots for the vestment. The 
 passion poems written by Brockes about this time were 
 set to music no less than thirty times between 1712 and 
 1727 and among the most important of these is one 
 by Handel written in 1716 while in attendance upon 
 the elector at Hanover, to which we shall recur later. 
 SufBLce it to say that with every new work, such as Rei- 
 ser's, the dramatic element becomes more prominent. 
 The meditative portions are now allotted to a definite 
 character, such as 'Daughter of Zion,' or a 'Faithful 
 Soul,' to be superseded still later by Mary Magdalen, the 
 Disciple, the Virgin, etc. It may be said, then, to ap- 
 proach more nearly to the form of the oratorio, which, 
 as we have seen in a previous chapter, had been culti- 
 
 425 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 vated in Italy by Carissimi and his followers. There, 
 however, it had so nearly developed into the prevailing 
 operatic form that it was distinguished from it only by 
 the lack of scenery. The chorus, after being reduced 
 to mere fragments, finally disappeared as it had done 
 in the opera. These were the materials from which 
 Handel's genius was later to evolve virtually a new 
 form of art. 
 
 II 
 
 It is to Italy that Handel now turns his steps. That 
 country had flooded Europe with singers that won the 
 public's heart wherever they appeared and even the 
 musicians of Germany could not assail their strong- 
 hold, reinforced by popular approval. An of- 
 fer by Prince Gaston de Medici in 1705 had been 
 proudly refused by Handel, unwilling to assume the 
 position of a servant. He now undertook the journey 
 at his own expense, and, visiting not only Florence, but 
 Rome, Venice, and Naples in turn, composed constantly 
 both secular and sacred music. No less than a dozen 
 solo cantatas — those charming little melodic sketches, 
 miniature operas, in a sense, consisting of simple reci- 
 tative and arioso over a figured bass — were produced 
 at Florence, and upon his return after a short stay in 
 Rome he produced 'Rodrigo,' his first Italian opera. 
 Its overture shows the influence of LuUy, being in the 
 form established by that composer (see Chap. XIII, p. 
 409) and forthwith adopted by Handel for all his 
 operas and oratorios. In this case it closed with a suite 
 of dances, including a gigue, a sarabande, a sailor's 
 dance, a minuet, two bourrees and a passecaille. The 
 elaborateness of the accompaniments to many of the 
 arias gave evidence of Handel's increased appreciation 
 of brilliant orchestral eff'ects. 'Rodrigo' was an un- 
 qualified success, which was as real as it may have been 
 
 426 
 
HANDEL'S ITALIAN PERIOD 
 
 surprising to Handel. 'Agrippina,' produced in Venice, 
 whither he went in 1708, appealed so strongly to the au- 
 dience that at every cessation of the music there were 
 loud cries of 'viva il caro Sassone!' (long live the dear 
 Saxon) . This enthusiastic reception of a German com- 
 poser argues well for the broad judgment of the Ital- 
 ians, whose domination of the European musical world 
 at that time was bitterly resented. But it was not an 
 isolated instance, for twenty years later another Ger- 
 man, Johann Adolph Hasse, was similarly honored, 
 and subsequent instances are frequent down to our 
 present day, when the Italian enthusiasm for Wagner 
 is hardly surpassed in Germany itself. 
 
 On the other hand, there could have been but little 
 that was strange to the Italian public in Handel's work. 
 All through his Hamburg career he had been influ- 
 enced by the Italian school. That school had long de- 
 parted from the ideals of melodic expressiveness and 
 dramatic verisimilitude and was now given over to 
 prescribed conventions made for the benefit of the 
 performer. It had become simply a string of set arias 
 and recitatives alternated in such a way as to provide 
 the desired variety of the vocal exhibition. These rules 
 as summarized by Rockstro,* exacted that there must 
 always be six principal characters — three of each sex. 
 The first woman must be a high soprano, the first man 
 an artificial soprano, though he is the hero of the 
 piece. The second man and the second woman might 
 be either sopranos or contraltos; the third man some- 
 times was a tenor, and a bass would be included only 
 when four men were in the cast. In each act all the 
 principal singers had to sing at least one of the arias, 
 aU of which were in the conventional da capo forms. 
 These were the aria cantdbile, aria di portmento, aria 
 di mezzo, carattere, aria parlante, and aria di bravura. 
 There had to be always a duet for the leading man and 
 
 *W. S. Rockstro: 'Life of Handel,' p. 62. 
 
 427 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 woman and an ensemble (coro) of all the leading 
 singers at the end. 
 
 These limitations are sufficient explanation for the 
 hopeless oblivion into which the operas of this period, 
 including Handel's, have descended. Even of the in- 
 dividual arias only a few are such as to interest or 
 charm the modern listener. A few melodic gems like 
 Lacia ch'io pianga, Mio cara bene and two or three 
 more are the sum total that is of value in all this tre- 
 mendous bulk of operatic works which occupied the 
 greater part of Handel's life. Posterity's verdict is just 
 in these matters, nor need we feel any sense of regret 
 at the loss, when we consider the astounding rapidity 
 with which these compositions were ground out-^ 
 *Agrippina' had been completed within three weeks — 
 and that the technique acquired in their writing must 
 have yielded richer fruit in those works which remain 
 as the master's monument. Hence we need pass but 
 rapidly over the list of operas, serenate and oratorios 
 composed by Handel during this period. All of them 
 lie within the domain of Italian influence. He never 
 attempted to develop the form further or reform it in 
 any way. But, as we shall see later, he used it as the 
 starting point for the new Handelian oratorio, which 
 was the outstanding creation of his genius. 
 
 The one important fact of Handel's Italian period is 
 the influence he received from the composers of that 
 country. While there he met Alessandro and Domen- 
 ico Scarlatti, Lutti, Marcello, Pasquini, Corelli, and 
 StefFani, whom he already knew and who befriended 
 him. In the genial circle of the 'Arcadian' academy, in 
 the homes of the music-loving Marquis Ruspoli and 
 the talented Cardinal Ottoboni in Rome, he absorbed 
 Italian ideals and acquired Italian technique. In 
 Rome, where the performance of opera was forbidden 
 by ecclesiastical authority, he composed U Trionfo del 
 tempo e del disinganno, which he afterward made 
 
 428 
 
HANDEL'S ITALIAN PERIOD 
 
 over into an English oratorio entitled "The Triumph 
 of Time and Truth' and another serenata Aci, Galatea, 
 e Polifemo, really a cantata for three voices with or- 
 chestra, was written in Naples. This work, however, 
 has no connection with the work of a similar name 
 which belongs to a later period. 
 
 'Agrippina,' the opera mentioned above, did service 
 in furnishing melodies for an oratorio. La Resurre- 
 zione, at once an outstanding instance of Handel's 
 transition from opera to oratorio and of his somewhat 
 ruthless practice of using musical material for widely 
 varying purposes. The use of Agrippina's air, both 
 words and music, for the character of Mary Magdalen 
 is little calculated to recommend Handel's early works 
 for devotional expression. But it surpassed in dra- 
 matic intensity anything in that form produced so far, 
 for with the Italian melodic suavity Handel combined 
 from the first the rich harmonic sonority peculiar to the 
 Germans, so happily fusing the old polyphonic and 
 new monodic ideals that many of his early works al- 
 ready 'bear,' as Riemann says, 'the stamp of classicism.' 
 It is interesting to note, however, that in Resurrezione 
 Handel makes such scant use of his contrapuntal 
 powers that we find but two brief choruses in the en- 
 tire work. It is an open question whether this oratorio 
 was originally intended for presentation in a theatre, 
 or, minus all action, in a church; nor is it known 
 whether or not it was ever publicly performed. 
 
 After a stay of almost five years Handel prepared to 
 return to Germany, for, through the good offices of 
 Steffani, who held the post of kapellmeister to the 
 Duke of Hanover, Handel secured that position as 
 Steffani's successor in 1710. As he had, however, al- 
 ready had several invitations to go to London, then 
 the great stronghold of Italian opera, he accepted his 
 new post only on condition that he might visit that 
 metropolis. He did so in the same year and was so 
 
 429 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 occupied and so carried away with success that he re- 
 mained six months. As this is practically the begin- 
 ning of Handel's English period, we may preface it 
 by a few remarks upon the state of music in England 
 at that time. 
 
 in 
 
 Following the death of Henry Purcell (in 1695), who 
 had produced thirty-nine English operas, or 'half- 
 operas,' as Chrysander calls them, since they consisted 
 of drama interspersed with 'musical scenes' — music in 
 England had for several years been confined to vocal 
 and instrumental concerts and comic singing and danc- 
 ing entertainments. Thus the beautiful seed of Pur- 
 cell's genius had fallen upon barren ground; the prom- 
 ise of an English school of opera which seemed to lie 
 in his work remained unfulfilled. Taste had degener- 
 ated to such a degree that the time was ripe for the 
 successful introduction of Italian opera, the 'exotic and 
 irrational entertainment' which Johnson made the sub- 
 ject of his caustic censure. Beginning with 1705 the 
 Drury Lane Theatre and later the Haymarket became 
 the scenes of triumph for Italian singers displaying 
 their art in the degenerate works of their countrymen. 
 With the production of 'Thamyris, Queen of Scythia,' 
 in which airs of Scarlatti and Bononcini were used in 
 arrangements by John Pepusch * there came into vogue 
 
 •John Christopher Pepusch (b. Berlin, 1667; d. London, 1752) was 
 not only an able, practical musician, but an authority in theory and 
 musical history. He went to England in 1700 and joined the orchestra of 
 the Drury Lane Theatre, where he became subsequently accompanist and 
 composer. In that capacity he compiled 'English' operas from Italian 
 arias. As founder of the 'Academy of Ancient Music' he made a serious 
 effort toward the revival of sixteenth century music (Purcell, etc.). He 
 was Handel's predecessor as organist to the Duke of Chandos and as such 
 composed services, anthems, cantatas, etc. After writing a number of 
 English operas for the Llncoht's-Inn-Fields Theatre ( "Venus and Adonis,' 
 •Death of Dido,' etc.), he arranged and produced the famous 'Beggar's 
 Opera' (a ballad-opera by Gay), which attained tremendous popularity 
 and created a serious competition to the Italian operas of Handel. 
 
 430 
 
MUSIC IN ENGLAND 
 
 that confusion of tongues which Addison ridiculed in 
 the Spectator. After commenting upon the rhetorical 
 absurdities of the erstwhile translations, he says : 'The 
 next step to our refinement was the introducing of Ital- 
 ian actors into our opera who sung their parts in their 
 own language at the same time that our countrymen 
 performed theirs in our native tongue. The king or 
 hero of the play generally spoke in Italian and his 
 slaves answered him in English. The lover frequently 
 made his court and gained the heart of his princess in 
 a language which she did not understand. One would 
 have thought it very difficult to have carried on dia- 
 logues after this manner without an interpreter be- 
 tween the persons that conversed together, but this was 
 the state of the English stage for about three years. At 
 length the audience grew tired of understanding half 
 the opera and, therefore, to ease themselves entirely of 
 the fatigue of thinking, have so ordered it at present 
 that the whole opera is performed in an unknown 
 tongue. We no longer understand the language of our 
 own stage, insomuch that I have often been afraid when 
 I have seen our Italian performers chattering in the 
 vehemence of action, that they have been calling us 
 names and abusing us among themselves. . . .' A lit- 
 tle further on he says, 'At present our notions of music 
 are so very uncertain that we do not know what it is 
 we like, only, in general, we are transported with any- 
 thing that is not English, so it be of a foreign grQwth, 
 let it be Italian, French, or High Dutch, it is the same 
 thing. In short, our English music is quite rooted out 
 and nothing yet planted in its stead.' 
 
 This was indeed the state of things when Handel 
 settled in London. No wonder, then, that 'Rinaldo,' 
 composed by him in the space of two weeks to the 
 words of Aaron Hill, the director of the Haymarket 
 Theatre, was a tremendous success. The popularity 
 of the music was such that the stirring march occurring 
 
 431 
 
A NARRATI\^ HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 in the score was adapted by the Life Guards as their 
 regimental march to be used for nearly half a century 
 thereafter. But we are prone to think that the public's 
 enthusiasm was at least equally due to the vocal pyro- 
 technics of Niccolini Grimaldi, who, as Rinaldo, elec- 
 trified his hearers in Cara sposa and many other splen- 
 did arias, and the gorgeous staging, which presented, 
 among other things, a garden filled with live birds. 
 'Rinaldo' held the boards of the Haymarket for fifteen 
 consecutive nights and was afterward revived in Ham- 
 burg and Naples. When Handel returned to Hanover 
 at the close of the opera season his taste for the duties 
 of kapellmeister had evidently been spoiled by his Eng- 
 lish experience, for he soon applied for and received 
 {)ermission for a second visit, on condition that he re- 
 turn within a reasonable time. He went there in No- 
 vember, 1712, and produced another opera, II pastor 
 fido, which was not so successful.* He was as much ad- 
 mired in other directions, however, as, for instance, 
 when he would play the closing voluntaries at St. 
 Paul's Cathedral upon the invitation of the organist, 
 Maurice Greene, who, it is said, even volunteered to 
 blow the organ so that he might hear Handel play. 
 
 Meantime Handel showed no intention to return to 
 Hanover. Upon the conclusion of the Peace of Utrecht, 
 March 31, 1713, he was commanded to write music for 
 its celebration by Queen Anne, for whom he had al- 
 ready written a birthday ode in February of the same 
 year. The Te Deum and Jubilate, largely based on 
 Purcell's composition of that name, which is still being 
 annually performed at St. Paul's, was the result, and 
 he was rewarded by the queen with a life annuity of 
 £200. He had not yet made up his mind to end his 
 somewhat prolonged leave of absence when his patron 
 
 * It was followed in January by Teseo, which, though more successful, 
 did not warrant many performances. A benefit performance was later 
 given by *he company for Handel, who, up to that time, had received no 
 remimeration. 
 
 432 
 
HANDEL IN ENGLAND 
 
 appeared in London as George I of England, for, in the 
 meantime, Queen Anne had died and the Hanoverian 
 dynasty was brought in by the Whigs, to whom the 
 Peace of Utrecht and Queen Anne, both sources of 
 Handel's favor, were most obnoxious. Naturally Han- 
 del was now in disfavor at court, but, through the good 
 ofiSces of his friend, the Baron Kielmannsegge, matters 
 were adjusted in this wise. Handel was persuaded to 
 compose a series of short instrumental pieces to be 
 played in a barge following the king during a nocturnal 
 excursion upon the Thames. This 'Water Music' so 
 pleased the king that he incjuired as to its composer, 
 and, finding that he was none other than his former 
 kapellmeister, demanded him into his presence to be- 
 stow upon him a pension equal to that which he had 
 received from Queen Anne. His engagement as music 
 master to the daughter of the prince of Wales soon 
 brought his income up to £600. In 1716 he accom- 
 panied the king on a visit to Hanover and there com- 
 posed his famous Brockes' passion Der fur die 
 Siinden der Welt gemarterte und sterbende Jesus. 
 
 Further impetus for the composition of sacred music 
 came to Handel through his appointment as chapel- 
 master to the wealthy duke of Chandos, who lived in 
 extraordinarily magnificent style at his palace. Can- 
 nons, in Edgeware, where he had built a private chapel 
 after the Italian manner. With a splendid organ, good 
 singers, and competent orchestra at his command Han- 
 del was in a position to furnish fittingly magnificent 
 music. Here he composed two Te Deums and the 
 twelve Chandos Anthems set for chorus and solos after 
 the style developed since Purcell, in which we may 
 see the root form of the English oratorio soon to fol- 
 low. The first of these, indeed, followed soon after. 
 It was a setting of a text by Humphrey arranged from 
 Racine's 'Esther.' Much of the music was taken from 
 his earlier Passion, though its former use was radically 
 
 433 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 different. After its original performance at Canons 
 in August, 1720, wlien the duke made Handel a present 
 of £1,000 as a token of his appreciation, 'Esther' was 
 performed several times in public. The serenata 'Acis 
 and Galatea' also belongs to the Chandos period, which 
 was the stepping-stone to Handel's final and greatest 
 mission, the creation of oratorio. First, however, we 
 must briefly review the remainder of his operatic 
 career. 
 
 The Royal Academy of Music, formed for the pro- 
 duction of Italian opera, engaged Handel's services in 
 1719, as well as those of the celebrated Bononcini, who' 
 now also took up his residence in London.* As im- 
 presario Handel visited Dresden, where Italian opera 
 flourished,t in order to secure a first-class company of 
 singers, among whom were the famous male sopranos 
 Senesino and Berselli, and Signora Salvai. 'Radamisto' 
 was the first opera of Handel's to be performed. It 
 created a sensation which was without precedent in 
 England. It is difficult for us to comprehend the suc- 
 cess of this work, dead as it is to-day. Nevertheless, 
 
 * Giovanni Battista Bononcini (or Buononcini), son and pupil of GioT. 
 Maria Bononcini imaestro di capella at tlie catliedral of Modena, composer 
 of chamber music, tlieoretician, etc.)i was bom about 1660 at Modena, 
 d. about 1750. At first maestro of S. Giovanni in monte, he wrote masses 
 and oratorios, among which are Davtdde, Giosue, La Maddelena a piedt di 
 Christro. His instrumental works include Sinfonie a 5-8 (op. 2, 1685), 
 Sinfonie a 3 with Basso continuo (op. 3, 1686), Sinfonie a pin stromentt 
 (op. 5), etc. In 1691 he went to Vienna, and, beginning 1694, devoted him- 
 self largely to the composition of operas (Tullo Ostilio, La fedo pubblica, 
 Proteo sul Reno, Polifemo, etc.), produced in Rome, Vienna and Berlin, 
 where he became court composer to Queen Sophie Charlotte (1703). Before 
 his engagement in London he returned to Vienna and produced a number 
 of new operas, from Tomiri (1704) to Mazio Scevola (1710), His fame was 
 perhaps second Cnly to Handel's, and the direct popular appeal of his 
 pleasing, simple melodic style fully explains the keen rivalry which ensued 
 between the two. His London operas include Astarto (1720), Ciro, Crispo, 
 Griselda (1722), Calparnia (1724), and Astianatte (1727). His productivity 
 was no less great in chamber music, of which he wrotes ayres, various 
 dance movements, divertimente da camera, and sonatas for strings and for 
 clavecin. He fell into disrepute in England through the discovery that he 
 had published a madrigal by Lotti as his own — strange as it may seem 
 that his rival's offenses in that direction passed without censure. 
 
 t Cf. Chap. XV. 
 
 434 
 
HANDEL AS IMPRESARIO 
 
 the applause was tremendous, the theatre was packed 
 to the doors, and persons were finally allowed to sit 
 on the stage. The critics considered it superior to 
 anything yet seen on an English stage, and Handel 
 himself considered one of its arias, Ombra cara, the 
 best he had ever composed. Whatever our opinion 
 to-day, there is no question that many of the forty-odd 
 operas of which 'Radamisto' was the first were far 
 superior to those of any of his contemporaries. In- 
 deed, his star shone so brightly that it dimmed the light 
 of every other upon the operatic firmament of Europe. 
 Two of the operas, 'Rinaldo' and 'Radamisto,' deserve 
 special mention for breadth of conception as well as 
 intrinsic musical value. In these two Handel has 
 reached at least a degree of dramatic power. He has 
 treated with consummate skill the various sources and 
 degrees of human passion and led his audience into a 
 carefully woven web in which they became partakers 
 in the subtleties of anxiety, joy, anger, and pathos. 
 The remaining forty or so we may dismiss with a mere 
 mention. Floridante (1721), Ottone (1723), Flavio 
 (1723), Giulio Cesare, Tamerlano (1724), Alessandro 
 (1726), Riccardo. Prima, Re d'lnghilterra (1727), all 
 produced at the Royal Academy, are simply names to 
 us. They have to-day not even a historical significance. 
 Of interest because of the story connected with it is 
 Muzio szevola, in which the third act was written by 
 Handel, the other two being supplied by his rivals, 
 Ariosti and Rononcini. Ariosti, naturally, was out of 
 the running, but the acts by Rononcini and Handel, 
 both of whom had hosts of partisans, now became the 
 subjects of a heated and general controversy which 
 caught the entire English society in its whirl. The af- 
 fair reminds of the war of Gluckists and Piccinists 
 which at a later period set all Paris a-flutter, but, while 
 in that case a general principle was at stake, the per- 
 sonal merits of the two composers were the only issue 
 
 435 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 here. The triviality of the discussion is reflected in 
 the contemporary verse of John Byron, the Lancashire 
 poet: 
 
 'Some say, compar'd to Bononcini, 
 That Mynherr Handel's but a ninny; 
 Others aver that he to Handel 
 Is merely fit to hold a candle — 
 Strange, all this Diiference should be 
 'Twixt tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee.' 
 
 The public soon surfeited of this affair, and, indeed, 
 of Italian opera altogether — the Academy became der 
 funct in 1728. But Handel stubbornly held out. He 
 formed a partnership with Heidegger, the manager of 
 the Haymarket, risked his all, and with mad industry 
 continued to supply an imaginary demand. Late in 
 that year he hurried to Italy, stopping at Halle to' 
 visit his old mother, now stricken with blindness, on 
 the way, and incidentally came to know the Neapolitan 
 school of opera at its apogee under Scarlatti. He re- 
 turned to London with a fresh personnel for the Acad- 
 emy, and during the following four seasons produced 
 'Lotario' (1729), 'Partenope' (1730), 'Poro' and 'Ezio' 
 (1731), 'Sosarme' and 'Orlando' (1732). Here the ven- 
 ture lagged. Bononcini's open rivalry in another thea- 
 tre aggravated the situation, and various dissatisfac- 
 tions, squabbles with singers, etc., which need not oc- 
 cupy us here, resulted in the dissolution of the part- 
 nership and the evacuation of the field in the enemy's 
 favor.* After a second trip to Italy another attempt 
 was made by Handel alone, in a theatre in Lincoln's- 
 Inn-Fields, and later in Covent Garden, where, besides 
 a new version of 11 Pastor Fido,' 'Terpsichore' and six 
 more operas, he produced 'Alexander's Feast,' com- 
 posed to the words of Dryden's ode. During 1735 and 
 
 * Nicola Porpora (see Vol. U, Chap. I) was made conductor of the rival 
 opera, and as the teacher of Farinelli and nearly all the great singers of 
 the time he was easily able to rally around himself a most formidable 
 force of artists. 
 
 436 
 
HANDEL AS IMPRESARIO 
 
 1736 Handel was troubled with illness; the following 
 year saw him bankrupt. Cuzzoni, and Faustina, the 
 wife of Hasse, those rivals whom Handel had propi- 
 tiated by diplomatically composing music for both in 
 one opera that should show their several excellencies 
 without outshining each other; Senesino, the spoiled 
 child of the London public, by offending whom Handel 
 had alienated his aristocratic friends; the wonderful 
 Farinelli, and all the Italian crew left England in dis- 
 gust. Handel himself, worn out by renewed efforts as 
 composer and impresario, was forced to seek recupera- 
 tion in Aix-la-Chapelle. After his return he made 
 several more feeble essays at opera, of which 'Imeneo' 
 (1740) and 'Deidamia' (1741) were the last. The fail- 
 ure of the last years was in a measure offset by the 
 success of a benefit concert given in 1738 at the instance 
 of loyal friends. Moreover, the fact that Handel's 
 statue was erected in Vauxhall Gardens at this time — 
 an unprecedented honor for a living man — betokened 
 the high popular regard for his genius. 
 
 IV 
 
 The glories of that genius were in fact yet to be un- 
 folded in their fullness, and in a field hitherto barely 
 touched.- Thoroughly chastened by his late failures, 
 Handel gradually reached the conclusion that 'sacred 
 music was best for a man in failing years.' Chrysander 
 describes how, toward the end of his operatic activity, 
 he began to comprehend his true mission to be 'the 
 union of the entire musical art, secular and ecclesias- 
 tic, of the preceding centuries in the form newly cre- 
 ated by him (the oratorio).' Whether we are skeptical 
 about the sincerity of Handel's philosophy or not, he 
 certainly had had ample opportunity to feel the pub- 
 lic's pulse. As early as 1732 Aaron Hill had written 
 
 437 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 him urging that 'the English language was soft enough 
 for opera and that it was time the country were de- 
 livered from Italian bondage.' That which now fast- 
 ened Handel's attention upon the oratorio was more 
 than anything else the changing taste of the English 
 public, which primarily meant nothing but a demand 
 for opera in English — a reaction against the incompre- 
 hensible Italian warble, and the falseness, the dramatic 
 absurdity of the prevalent school of opera.* 
 
 As we have already pointed out, the immediate 
 source of the Handelian oratorio lay in the Italian 
 opera. 'Though externally the course of Handel's ca- 
 reer till 1740 was determined by the composition of 
 opera,' says Riemann,t 'in retrospect it appears as a 
 preparation for oratorio, and all his activities resolved 
 themselves into that.' 
 
 His previous essays in Italian and in German ora- 
 torio (La resurrezione and the Brockes' Passion) would 
 seem to portend a fusion of the two forms. Another 
 important ingredient, however, was the sacred music 
 of Purcell, the imitation of which — ^in Queen Anne's 
 birthday ode, the Utrecht Te Deum, etc. — had led Han- 
 del to form a style of choral composition. For the out- 
 standing ditference, the distinguishing characteristic 
 of Handel's oratorio is the essential emplojmient of the 
 chorus, which rises to ever greater eminence till at last 
 in the crowning works of the master, in the 'Messiah' 
 and in 'Samson,' we see a grand choral drama inter- 
 spersed with occasional solo passages. Handel had 
 by that time conceived a choral fabric of such stupen- 
 dous dimensions as would give the oratorio a place 
 among the grandest art forms in existence. 
 
 * We may remind the reader of the valiant efforts made by Dr. Pepusch 
 and other Anglo-Germans against the English public's absolute surrender 
 to the Italian opera and Italian monody, holding out for the more serious 
 contrapuntal music of the sixteenth century, and for the use of the native 
 tongue. The Immense success of Gay's 'Beggar's Opera' in 1728 was another 
 proof of this demand for a native popular entertainment. 
 
 t Handbuch der Musikgeschichte, U', 
 
 438 
 
Gedfg Frederick Handel 
 AfliAA iiainling by Thomas Hudson 
 
'■-'i^'V' 'W' "f 
 
THE HANDELIAN ORATORIO 
 
 The Chandos Te Deums and anthems were the next 
 step in that direction, and 'Esther' represents the foun- 
 dation upon which the gigantic structure of the later 
 works was raised. It was 'Esther,' indeed, which gave 
 the direct impulse to the most momentous transition in 
 Handel's career. That oratorio, originally composed 
 for the chapel of the duke of Chandos, was revived, 
 with action, scenery, and costume by the children of 
 the Chapel Royal in Westminster. It was twice re- 
 peated in a tavern in the Strand, and again performed 
 without authority in April, 1732, 'at the Great Room 
 in Villar's Street, York Ruildings,' at five shilhngs a 
 head. Always alive to business advantages, Handel 
 immediately announced a performance of it at his own 
 opera house for the second of May, 'by a great number 
 of voices and instruments.' The acting of sacred ora- 
 torio had been forbidden by the Bishop, hence the ad- 
 vertisement said that 'there would be no Acting, but 
 the House will be fitted up in a decent Manner for the' 
 audience.' Handel had enlarged for this occasion the 
 choruses and the orchestration, which now consisted of 
 five violins, viola, 'cello, double bass, two oboes, two 
 flutes, two bassoons, harp, theorbo, harpsichord, and 
 organ — a combination which appears surprisingly 
 modern in comparison with the freak proportions of 
 some of the earlier operas. 
 
 The unusual success of the experiment was no doubt 
 responsible for the next effort of this kind, namely 
 'Deborah,' performed in 1733, at double prices, which 
 circumstance militated against large audiences and 
 fanned the flame of opposition then raging about Han- 
 del. In the same year 'Athalia' was produced in Ox- 
 ford, in which Handel came very near the form of the 
 German chorale cantata. 'Deborah' and 'Esther' were 
 also revived there with success.* 
 
 * In 'Deborah' the overture for the first time becomes dramatically 
 Identified with the work itself. In it two of the choruses are utilized. 
 
 439 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 In 'Esther' we divine the spark of Handel's future 
 greatness. In other works, too, there are isolated num- 
 bers that touch the high-water mark of beauty, but in 
 the whole of any of these there is little unity; the single 
 numbers do not hang together, the whole scheme does 
 not suggest homogeneity of conception or convey the 
 poignant religious feeling, the purposeful intensity of 
 the later works. 
 
 With these qualities we meet for the first time in 
 'Saul,' composed in 1738. This, says the admiring 
 Rockstro, 'surpasses even the finest scenes presented 
 in either of the three earlier works,' and he enthusias- 
 tically appoints to the Song of Triumph in the first act 
 with its picturesque carillon accompaniment, marking 
 out each successive step in the procession, while the 
 jealous monarch bursts with envy, the wailing notes 
 of the oboes and bassoons in the 'Witch's Incanta- 
 tion,' the gloomy pomp of the terrible Dead March, and 
 the tender pathos of David's own personal sorrow, so 
 clearly distinguished from that felt by the nation at 
 large' as some of its dramatic virtues. 
 
 'Israel in Egypt,' Handel's next work, is, besides the 
 'Messiah,' the only purely epic oratorio in which the 
 chorus becomes the protagonist of the drama, and we 
 are inclined to consider these two the greatest of all. 
 That it was in advance of the public taste of the period 
 is indicated by the poor reception accorded to 'Israel' 
 upon its first performance in 1740. It was considered 
 so heavy that it had to be performed the second time 
 with interpolated songs to lighten it up. Despite the 
 fact that it was put together in a total of seventeen 
 days, that it consists to a large extent of the work of 
 other men (sixteen of the thirty-nine numbers are 
 plagiarized), and that it represents another instance of 
 Handel's peculiar handicraft in reutilizing his own cre- 
 ations, it exhibits qualities which hardly any other of 
 his works possesses in so great a measure. Instead of 
 
 440 
 
•ESTHER,' 'SAUL,' 'ISRAEL IN EGYPT 
 
 the stereotyped harmonic structure of dominant-tonic, 
 subdominant-tonic, which stamps so much of his work 
 as tedious and antiquated, we have here rich chromatic 
 progressions and colorful modulations; the clear-cut 
 note-for-note harmony is varied by a seething polyph- 
 onic web which eloquently betrays Handel's early 
 fugal training, a polyphony as diverse almost as that 
 of the a capella masters of the past, but resting firmly 
 on a pure harmonic foundation, euphonious, sonorous, 
 guided by solid laws of progression, but unrestrained 
 in its freedom of movement. The chorus 'They 
 loathed to drink,' adapted from one of his own organ 
 fugues, is a fine example. It is in moments like these 
 that Handel shows his kinship to his great country- 
 man. Bach. The colossal double choruses in which 
 every resource of vocal polyphony and harmonic power 
 seems exhausted are the most noted features of 'Israel 
 in Egypt.' 
 
 Handel's reprehensible practice of appropriating 
 the compositions of other, and often obscure, com- 
 posers has been much discussed. To a modern artistic 
 conscience there is no excuse for such wholesale theft. 
 How far it was justified by usage we are not able now 
 to determine. At any rate we are surprised at the 
 absence of protest on the part of the composers of the 
 pilfered works. It is true that by utilizing their ma- 
 terial Handel often saved such compositions from cer- 
 tain oblivion, and that in handling it his masterful 
 touch was such as to sanctify even dross. Moreover, 
 the original parts are usually far superior to the ap- 
 propriative ones. The only plausible explanation for 
 the procedure can be found in the feverish haste with 
 which he produced piece after piece, which would indi- 
 cate an extraordinary rapacity for success — and prob- 
 ably material gain — an unsympathetic trait of charac- 
 ter unfortunately associated with others as repugnant. 
 
 In 'Israel' a Stradella serenata furnished the material 
 
 441 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 for 'He speaketh the word,' 'But as for his People,' and 
 'Believed the Lord.' The antiphonal effect desired by 
 Handel was most conveniently provided by the two 
 orchestras in Stradella's work, which represent the 
 two rival parties of musicians serenading the lovers' 
 mistress. 'The Lord is a man of war' represents a 
 most ingenious form of plagiarism, for the voice parts 
 are taken from a work by Erba, but the accompaniment 
 figure is from Urio's Te Deum. Such artful utilizations 
 and welding of foreign materials into a homogeneous 
 and impressively artistic whole reveal Handel as the 
 master workman of his time. Many other instances 
 could be cited, but we content ourselves with the pleas- 
 ant one as disposing of the matter. 
 
 Without question, the pinnacle of Handel's creative 
 mission was reached with the next oratorio — 'The Mes- 
 siah' — on which perhaps more than all the other works 
 taken together rests Handel's place in the heart of 
 modern music lovers. That monumental work was 
 produced between August 22 and September 14, 1741, 
 a period of twenty-four days! The compiler of the 
 libretto was Charles Jennens, the quality of whose 
 other literary performances have cast considerable 
 doubt upon his claim to the origination of the alto- 
 gether admirable plan. His comment on Handel's set- 
 ting throws light on his conceited nature as well as 
 upon the firm independence of the composer: 'He 
 has made a fine entertainment of it,' says Jennens, 
 'though not near so good as he might and ought to 
 have done. I have with great difficulty made him cor- 
 rect some of the present faults, but he retained the 
 overture obstinately, in which there are some pas- 
 sages far unworthy of Handel, but much more un- 
 worthy of the Messiah!' Posterity has decreed other- 
 wise with respect to the comparative merits of book 
 and music. At any rate, the former is well-nigh ideal 
 in the unity of thought and intensive continuity with 
 
 442 
 
THE MESSIAH' 
 
 which the story of the Saviour's life is unfolded from 
 the prophecy to the last things. 
 
 We have called 'The Messiah' an epic oratorio. As 
 there is, as Schering * says, but a series of contempla- 
 tive choruses, arias, and recitatives on the 'Messiah' 
 idea, its psychological connection with the German 
 cantata is much closer than with the Italian oratorio. 
 As we have observed, Handel had been getting away 
 more and more from the operatic style. Both because 
 of its form and because scriptural words only are 
 used in it, we may, with Riemann, consider it as one 
 great anthem. The work is too well known to require 
 extended comment. Let us only remind the reader of 
 the exquisite beauty of such lyric passages as 'I know 
 that my Redeemer liveth,' 'How beautiful are the feet,' 
 and 'Behold and see' which are among the rarest gems 
 of aria form in our possession. Powerful and pas- 
 sionate expressions such as occur in 'The people that 
 walked in darkness' are as rare in the literature of 
 dramatic music, while the highly dramatic recitatives 
 like 'Thy rebuke hath broken' are, without question, 
 one of the completest realizations of the ideal of Peri 
 and Monteverdi-t The glorious choral efiects in the Hal- 
 lelujah chorus, the stirring polyphony, now simultane- 
 ous, now imitative, reflect a potency and spiritual ele- 
 vation that will perhaps never be surpassed. Lastly, 
 let us not forget the beautiful Pastoral Symphony in 
 which the exquisite Calabrian melody, the song of the 
 piferari that Handel had heard in the early days at 
 Rome, is introduced. 
 
 'The Messiah' was first performed on April 13, 1742, 
 in Dublin, whither Handel had gone upon the invita- 
 tion of the duke of Devonshire, lord lieutenant of Ire- 
 land. It was given for the benefit of a charitable so- 
 ciety and was well received. "When in March of the 
 
 •Arnold Schering: Geschichte des OratoTiums. 
 t Riemann: Op. clt. 
 
 443 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 following year it was performed in London, the audi- 
 ence, including the king, was so affected by the Halle- 
 lujah chorus that at the words 'For the Lord God om- 
 nipotent reigneth' it instinctively rose. Thus it has 
 remained customary in England for audiences to stand 
 during the performance of that number, 
 
 A number of other oratorios followed in regular suc- 
 cession: 'Samson' in 1741, 'Joseph' in 1743, 'Semele' 
 in 1744, and 'Belshazzer' and 'Hercules' in 1744. After 
 an eighteen-months' period of inactivity following an- 
 other financial crisis, came the 'Occasional Oratorio,' 
 thus named, according to Chrysander, 'beca.use its cre- 
 ation and performances were occasioned by peculiar 
 passing circumstances,' and 'Judas Maccabaeus,' 
 'Joshua' (1747), 'Solomon' (1748). 'Suzanna' (1748), 
 and 'Theodora' (1749). By this time the excessive popu- 
 larity of oratorio had waned also and 'Theodora' was 
 so poorly attended that Handel remarked bitterly that 
 the Jews (who had patronized his oratorios on Hebraic 
 subjects quite largely) would not come because the 
 subject was Christian, and the ladies stayed away be- 
 cause it was virtuous. Considering the notorious state 
 of Harry Walpole's society we may better understand 
 this jest. 
 
 'The Choice of Hercules,' a secular oratorio (1750), 
 and 'Jephtha,' composed in 1751 and performed in the 
 following year, closed the series. During this time 
 Handel was afflicted with a disease which eventually 
 robbed him of his sight. Three operations for cataract 
 were of no avail and he remained blind, or nearly so, 
 for the remainder of his life. (It is a curious coinci- 
 dence that Bach at the end of his life suffered a simi- 
 lar fate.) Nevertheless he labored on. The practice 
 of playing organ concertos between the parts of his 
 oratorios, which was a regular custom with him, he 
 continued, probably now they were purely improvisa- 
 tions, as, indeed, they had been, with few exceptions, 
 
 444 
 
'THE MESSIAH' 
 
 theretofore. Those which he wrote down seem to have 
 answered the purpose merely of providing material 
 at times when inspiration lagged. 
 
 Handel's instrumental music is, like Bach's, based on 
 the solid German fugal technique, but, unlike that mas- 
 ter's, it is strongly influenced by Italian violin music, 
 and especially by that of Corelli. It is characterized 
 by distinguished simplicity, clearness of outline and 
 terseness of utterance. By virtue of their broad the- 
 matic formation and the direct force of their expres- 
 sion, his violin sonatas, trio sonatas, and concerti grossi 
 are superior to those of Corelli. He wrote also a num- 
 ber of pieces for the harpsichord, and as early as 1720 
 had published 'Lessons for the Harpsichord,' which 
 was reprinted in Germany, France, Switzerland, and 
 Holland. Before 1740 he composed no less than twelve 
 sonatas for violin or flute with Figured Bass, thirteen 
 trio sonatas for two violins (oboes or flutes) and bass, 
 six concerti grossi, known as the oboe concerti, and 
 five other orchestral concerti, twenty organ concerti, 
 twelve concerti for strings, and many suites, fantasies, 
 and fugues for piano and organ. But it is not evident 
 that he attached great importance to his instrumental 
 works. He regarded them rather as great storehouses 
 of material upon which he drew (as we have seen) at 
 will for his larger vocal compositions. 
 
 The last of Handel's labors were the production of 
 the English version of 'The Triumph of Time and 
 Truth' (originally composed in 1708) at Covent Garden 
 in 1757,* and the conducting of the annual performance 
 
 * His introduction of choruses in the new version aptly illustrates the 
 metamorphosis which the Handel oratorio underwent, and how indispen- 
 sable the choral element had by this time become. 
 
 445 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of the 'Messiah' at the Foundling Hospital in London. 
 This charitable labor, as well as his support of the fund 
 for helpless musicians and other acts of benevolence, 
 betokens Handel's generosity. He attended another 
 performance of his most popular oratorio at Covent 
 Garden, April 6th, 1759, eight days before his death, 
 which occurred at his house in Brooks Street on the 
 fourteenth of that month. The master was buried in 
 Westminster Abbey among the nation's great. English- 
 men may well claim him as one of their own, notwith- 
 standing his German birth and parentage, for not only 
 had he become a naturalized British subject in 1726, but 
 he had entered thoroughly into the spirit of British 
 society and adapted himself to its habits of mind. 
 Throughout its later period his career wais closely iden- 
 tified with the British crown. Upon taking the oath of 
 allegiance he became officially composer to the court. 
 As such, upon the coronation of George II in 1727, he 
 composed four great anthems for the occasion, and 
 conducted an exceptionally large orchestra, in which 
 a double bassoon, constructed under Handel's super- 
 vision, was used for the first time. Again, in 1737, he 
 wrote a deeply affecting mourning anthem for the 
 burial of Queen Caroline, and, altogether, he came to 
 share in an unusual degree the patriotic veneration of 
 the English people. Moreover, his ideals were in a 
 large measure shaped by English public opinion. It 
 is doubtful, indeed, whether his work would ever have 
 attained its great lasting value had it not been turned 
 away from the channels of Italian opera by the sheer 
 force of popular taste. What his genius would have 
 brought forth had he, like Bach, remained within the 
 local sphere of his birthplace, is an interesting specula- 
 tion. 
 
 ******** 
 
 Handel's fame increased steadily until the time of 
 his death. Though the opposition against him had lost 
 
 446 
 
HANDEL'S PLACE IN HISTORY 
 
 much of its forcei it was a more or less constant irri- 
 tation and embarrassment to him till late in his life. 
 His own character, his irascible temper, and his stub- 
 bornness no doubt were in a measure responsible for 
 this. But men who are aggressive and successful not 
 uncommonly incur the wrath of jealous rivals, and 
 few men have been as successful as Handel, notwith- 
 standing his repeated failures. He was a big man, 
 built on a large scale both mentally and physically--- 
 he rose to heights rarely attained by men of his pro- 
 fession, and it was inevitable that his pride should 
 sometimes go to the length of arrogance. Many are 
 the anecdotes testifying to his tyrannical nature, his 
 ruthless manners, his ponderous pomposity, his ab- 
 normal appetite. Some of all that is reflected in his 
 work. We often hear the vain, self-sufiBcient boor 
 through the interminable roulades and runs, the pon- 
 derous chords, the diatonic sonorities of his scores. 
 On the other hand, the man of the world, the success- 
 ful courtier, the shrewd homme d'affaires shines 
 through. As Maitland says, 'Studying all but a very 
 few exceptionally inspired pages of his works we re- 
 main conscious of the full-bottomed wig, the lace ruf- 
 fles, and all the various details of his costume.' * 
 
 But those two pages are enough to place him among 
 the greatest of the great. If we can justly say that he 
 sums up the achievement of his own generation of 
 music, as far as it corresponds to the taste of the pe- 
 riod, it must not be thought that he passed nothing on 
 to the next. The oratorio, his special gift to the world, 
 will always remain inseparably connected with his 
 name. Had he left nothing but his inspired works in 
 that form, to serve as models for posterity, his claim to 
 immortality would be assured. 
 
 C. S. 
 
 * Oxford: 'History of Music,' IV, 3. 
 
 447 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH 
 
 Introduction — ^The life of Bach — Bach's polyphonic skill and the quali- 
 ties of his genius — Bach's contrihutlon to the art of music and the forms he 
 employed — ^The revision of keyboard technique and equal temperament — 
 Bach's relation to the history of music. 
 
 That Bach lived at a time when the musical public 
 was opera mad, when the Italian singers were dictators, 
 when the grace and ease of Italian melody were be- 
 witching and relaxing all music, yet that he himself 
 never wrote for the stage nor ever surrendered in spirit 
 to the force of the new movement, inevitably obscures 
 and misrepresents his relation to the past and present 
 of his day. By the peculiar nature of his genius which 
 has filled his music with a seemingly forever unweak- 
 ening power to stimulate, because of its perhaps un- 
 matched greatness, he will always stand a little above 
 and apart from other composers and will appear un- 
 linked in the slow development of music. Mozart, 
 Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Wagner, Brahms, 
 even the greatest and most original composers of the 
 present age, all have hailed him as the father of mod- 
 ern music, have drawn inspiration and knowledge from 
 him as from an inexhaustible soiu'ce, and this unfailing 
 tribute and dependence from nearly all subsequent 
 composers has helped to fix our conception of him as 
 the source and ultimate scope of music. His gift of 
 expression was indeed all-comprehending, if not in- 
 finite. The freshness of his music has been judged 
 immortal. He partakes of the superhuman. He seems 
 perfection. Yet one has but to look through the eyes 
 
 448 
 
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH 
 
 of devoted historians to see a man human and simple, 
 straightforward, stubborn, sometimes quarrelsome, 
 quite independent, even defiant, and an artist standing 
 as firmly rooted as an oak in the work of his predeces- 
 sors, thoroughly awake to the music of his day, and 
 drawing in his own fashion many of the features which 
 marked it. 
 
 Like Beethoven, he invented no new forms, but took 
 the forms at hand, property common to all composers 
 of his day, and, by his most uncommon genius, gave 
 the touches which transformed them into monuments 
 of imperishable beauty and perfection. But, more 
 than in the case of Beethoven, it was the quality of 
 his own inspiration which gave to these forms their 
 first and last glory. There are symphonies of Haydn 
 and Mozart written ten or a dozen years before Beet- 
 hoven wrote his first symphony which we can hardly 
 believe will ever lose their hold upon the public, which 
 seem destined to immortal life, for which no apology 
 of time nor circumstance need ever be made; but be- 
 fore Bach there are no fugues, no suites, no cantatas, 
 no settings of the Passion for which such apologies 
 are not necessary, which must not henceforth conceal 
 defect or weakness in the respectable toga of antiquity. 
 This distinction, of course, offers no ground for a com- 
 parison of the two men. It is the result of circum- 
 stance, of accident. 
 
 The seventeenth century, of which Bach and Handel 
 were the two great results, was a period of experiment 
 fraught with more tentativeness and uncertainty than 
 have ever since hindered composers. "We need only 
 recall how, before the beginning of that very cen- 
 tury, which was to prove the most fruitful of all in 
 the long history of music, the vocal art of polyphony, 
 the consummation of a century of effort, had been shat- 
 tered into various parts, each of which had almost to 
 begin life anew, to mold itself to strange needs and 
 
 449 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 surroundings; how the invention of opera had smashed 
 down the last restraining barrier of mediaeval scholas- 
 ticism and let loose a thousand restless composers to 
 wander at will in lands hitherto all but undreamed of. 
 The improvement of the organ and of other instru- 
 ments, the perfection of the violin had yet to come; the 
 principles of form which should give music a founda- 
 tion apart from that of a text were yet to be discovered; 
 the modern art of harmony was to develop from the 
 seed; and the vigor of rhythm to be accepted little by 
 little into the constitution of serious music. Music 
 was still either old-fashioned or weak or unsettled to 
 the very day of Bach and Handel. Through them it 
 emerged from its period of probation and experiment, 
 splendid and secure. They therefore appear to the 
 later eye in the glory of creators, and especially Bach, 
 because, for all the vast number and proportions of his 
 choral works, he is fundamentally an instrumental 
 composer and instrumental music was the greatest be- 
 quest of the seventeenth century to the future of 
 music. 
 
 Only one branch of music had developed relatively 
 independently of the Italian influence — music for the 
 organ. Though this, as we have seen, was given its 
 first impetus by Italian composers, it had grown to 
 its fuller proportions among the Germans, of whom 
 mention has been made in Chapter XI. By the time 
 of Bach organs were well-made and effective instru- 
 ments, a line of virtuosi in both north and south Ger- 
 many had developed an astonishing technique, . and 
 certain fairly definite types of composition had been 
 established. Of these the toccata, the fugue, and the 
 chorale-fantasy or chorale-prelude received the most 
 attention. The toccata was primarily a piece for dis- 
 play and was looser in structure than the others. Se- 
 ries of brilliant runs, scales and arpeggios over a foun- 
 dation of rich and varied chords formed the most gen- 
 
 450 
 
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH 
 
 eral and characteristic features, with which were al- 
 ternated, for effect of contrast, passages of slow mov- 
 ing harmony and thematic significance. The fugue was 
 a piece of music developed contrapuntally throughout 
 from a definite subject and countersubjects, the direct 
 outcome of the old imitative polyphonic music of the 
 later Netherland masters. Both toccatas and fugues 
 were treated with great skill and ingenious variety 
 by Bach's predecessors — Buxteheude, Reinken, Bohm, 
 Pachelbel and others — ^but none of these organists suc- 
 ceeded in giving to either form the perfect balance 
 and proportion, the organic unity, the architectonic 
 grandeur, the definitive outline and shape wherewith 
 Bach wrought them into enduring masterpieces. The 
 same is true of the chorale fantasies and preludes. 
 Three distinct types had come into being before 
 the activity of Bach, one dignified and smooth, 
 consisting actually of several short fugues upon 
 sections of the chorale melody, lacking therefore 
 breadth and power; one singing and serene, in 
 which the flowing melody was set above or below an 
 intricate contrapuntal web; and one in which, in the 
 fiery words of Albert Schweitzer, the chorale melody 
 was torn in fragments and tossed into a rushing tor- 
 rent of virtuosity. The first of these forms was dis- 
 junct, the second lacked variety, the third was out 
 of keeping with the simplicity and noble dignity of 
 the chorale. It was Bach who united what was best 
 in all three into a type of prelude which, inspired by 
 the very spirit of the chorale melody, was built up 
 out of the range of organ technique into a structure 
 of faultless proportion. In the department of organ 
 music, therefore. Bach seized upon the materials gath- 
 ered for his use by men who had gone before, and, 
 for the first time, made of them perfect temples. He 
 was not misled by experiment, he did not falter 
 through lack of power to sustain; he worked with ab- 
 
 451 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 solute sureness and with the instinct of only the high- 
 est genius for perfect form. 
 
 In other instrumental music, in suites for clavier, 
 for violin, for violoncello, for orchestra, in sonatas and 
 concertos, he found forms already perfected. Nor can 
 it be said that he did anything to develop or refine the 
 style suitable for these instruments, since his own style 
 was unmistakably influenced by the organ, and is some- 
 times heavy in comparison with Couperin's, with Do- 
 menico Scarlatti's, with Corelli's, and Vivaldi's. To 
 these branches of music he brought a richness of feel- 
 ing, an emotional depth and warmth, too, which hith- 
 erto had not been expressed in music. Nearly every 
 emotion worthy of expression in music is to be met 
 with in, for example, the Well-tempered Clavichord. 
 On the one hand, liveliness, wit, gaiety; on the other, 
 melancholy, deep sadness, religious exaltation, the 
 lightest, the most serious shades of feeling, the most 
 vivid and the most subdued expression. Thus the 
 equable cool forms of Corelli, so justly proportioned 
 between grace and calm emotion, the scintillating son- 
 atas of Domenico Scarlatti, become sulfused vnth a 
 new, a real, personal life and are neither distorted nor 
 dulled, but animated for all time. 
 
 As to organ music, he brought the power to construct 
 and to unify, and to chamber music the warmth of his 
 deep feeling. Vocal music — and his vocal works are, 
 with inconsiderable exceptions, for the church — he 
 made sublime by the true spirit of German religion 
 which has found in him its perfect expression. He 
 wrote in forms which were, as we have said, common 
 to aU composers of his day. Keiser, Mattheson, Tele- 
 mann wrote not only in the same forms as he, but 
 actually set many of the same texts. Undoubtedly they 
 were men of inferior genius, but they were, none the 
 less, excellent musicians, and had remarkable control 
 of the technique of composition; and it is almost in- 
 
 452 
 
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH 
 
 credible that the stupendous numbers of their com- 
 positions are lying forgotten in libraries. Many a 
 phrase, many an aria, and many a movement have a 
 real beauty of form and a grace of content, but they 
 are dead and not likely to be restored. The reason, 
 not to be found alone in the second-rate quality of 
 their genius, is, however, not far to seek. The develop- 
 ment of opera in Italy during the seventeenth century 
 influenced the whole course of music over Europe. 
 The enthusiasm for opera spread veritably like wild- 
 fire. Forms were invented which were obvious and 
 immediate in their appeal to the general public, and 
 these forms were taken over into church music, even 
 in Germany, where the tradition of a more profound 
 and more fitting style still lingered. Cantatas, ora- 
 torios, even settings of the Passion, gave way to the 
 universal demand for dramatic and easily pleasing 
 music, were composed of arias and recitatives, and 
 accompanied by instruments just as operas were. It 
 would be absurd to say that church music could not 
 gain, did not gain, as a matter of fact, by the injection 
 of new and extraneous forms. Some few conserva- 
 tives, notably the austere Johann Kuhnau, cantor of 
 the St. Thomas school at Leipzig, where Bach was to 
 pass the last half of his life, set themselves deliberately 
 against the new movement. Many clergymen waxed 
 bitter and polemical; but by far the majority of musi- 
 cians, among them the men above mentioned, hailed 
 the new forms with delight and, always more or less 
 closely associated with the theatre, deliberately tried 
 to give to church music the glamour and brilliance of 
 music for the stage. Bach was himself far too 
 much aware of the drift of music in his own 
 day not to take advantage of the new forms which 
 were the outgrowth of the opera. He adopted 
 them into cantata, oratorio, and Passion. But 
 whereas the sacred works of Keiser, Mattheson, and 
 
 453 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 Telemann breathed only the light spirit of the trivial 
 opera of the time, the arias and recitatives of Bach 
 seemed to be the very flower of the meditative religious 
 spirit peculiar to the Teutonic races. Thus his works 
 stand at once with and aloof from his age. Outwardly 
 the same, inwardly different. And that his cantatas 
 and oratorios and Passions, cast in the mold of the 
 Italian opera at the beginning of the eighteenth cen- 
 tury, are glowing with the inspiration that was the re- 
 ligious voice of a whole race, is the reason why they 
 live when those of his contemporaries are dead. They 
 brought a trivial style into the church, he made a style 
 glorious by filling it with an intimate, profound, and 
 indescribably tender and genuine devotion. They tried 
 to secularize church music, he to make a secular music 
 the priestess of the temple. 
 
 Grandeur of conception, warmth and depth of feel- 
 ing, nobility and often exaltation of spirit he brought 
 to music, and transformed the materials which were, 
 as the accumulation of a long century, at the service 
 of a hundred of his contemporaries, into masterpieces 
 of imperishable beauty. The cast of his genius seems 
 almost out of place in the general spirit of music at 
 his age. That which makes his music supremely great 
 sprang from out the depths of his own nature, depths 
 which are to-day unsounded and mysterious, the never- 
 failing source of highest inspiration. Famous in his 
 own day as an organist, and a performer on the harp- 
 sichord of astounding skill, as a composer he passed 
 unnoticed or misunderstood save by a few pupils and 
 friends. The ideal toward which he worked was fast 
 losing hold upon the world of musicians. He was con- 
 sidered recondite and dry. 
 
 454 
 
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH 
 
 It is only human to desire the knowledge of some in- 
 timate details in the life of such a man, but the ex- 
 haustive researches of Philipp Spitta have collected all 
 that is likely ever to be known about Bach, and there 
 is ahnost a complete absence of any of those details 
 which help to restore the daily life of a man to the 
 admirers of a later age. We know little more than 
 the facts of his life, must remain onlookers except 
 as we may penetrate to his great heart through his 
 music. 
 
 He came of a family which can be traced back nearly 
 two hundred years, all of whom were characterized 
 by the strong virtues of the German peasantry, by 
 thrift, honesty, and a sturdy piety which never wa- 
 vered among all the horrors of religious warfare. 
 Nearly all were musicians, connected either with the 
 church as composers and organists, such as Johann 
 Christoph and Johann Michael, uncles of Johann Se- 
 bastian's father, or with the bands in the towns where 
 they lived, such as Bach's grandfather, and his father, 
 Johann Ambrosius. The family had so spread over 
 Thuringia that there was hardly a town in the province 
 in which some member of it was not actively associated 
 with music. Ambrosius Bach played the viola in the 
 town band of Eisenach. Here Johann Sebastian was 
 born in March, 1685.* 
 
 One may believe that his talent showed itself while 
 he was still very young, and that he was intended to 
 follow in the footsteps of his father. Probably he 
 learned from his father how to play the violin. In 
 his father's house, too, he was surrounded by secular 
 music, lively and rhythmical, so that in his very ten- 
 derest years he must have acquired that fondness for, 
 
 * The exact date is not known. 
 
 455 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 and appreciation of, rhythm which are so strongly evi- 
 dent in all his work. It seems likely, too, that a prefer- 
 ence for instrumental music was fostered in his boy- 
 hood, for he remained always primarily an instrumen- 
 tal composer. Just how or when he learned to play the 
 harpsichord is not known, but it can hardly be doubted 
 that he had acquired some skill upon it before his 
 father died. 
 
 His mother died in 1694. In little more than half a 
 year his father married again, but died very shortly 
 after. Bach was thus left an orphan at the age of ten, 
 the youngest of a large family. He went to live with 
 his brother Johann Christoph, twelve years or more 
 older than he, in the neighboring village of Ohrdruf. 
 Johann Christoph was an organist, a pupil of the great 
 Pachelbel, and in his house Sebastian first came into 
 close contact with church music, and music for the 
 organ. Here he received his first regular instruction 
 on the organ. Here, too, if we may believe one of the 
 few anecdotes which have colored the history of his 
 life, he gave a sign of that tremendous industry which 
 distinguished his whole life in studying and making 
 his own all the scores that came within his reach. 
 The story is that his brother had a valuable collection 
 of music by Pachelbel, Froberger, and other com- 
 posers famous in that day, which he kept locked be- 
 hind the latticed doors of a bookcase. Some of this 
 collection the young Sebastian managed to extract for 
 his own use, and he set to work to copy it by stealth, 
 but one day Johann Christoph caught him at his labor, 
 and took the music away. Whether or not the anec- 
 dote is true, it is typical of Bach's method of study. 
 The blindness which fell upon him in the last years 
 of his life was hastened, if not actually caused, by his 
 indefatigable copying of music. 
 
 At Ohrdruf he sang in the church choir and thereby 
 gained his first experience in choral music. When at 
 
 456 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 the end of five years he had to begin to earn his own 
 livelihood, it was as a choir boy he went to St. Michael's 
 school in Liineberg in the north of Germany. That 
 he had already unusual skill as a musician is proved 
 by the fact that after his voice broke he was still paid 
 to remain at St. Michael's, probably a prefect of the 
 choir. The year at Liineberg brought him into contact 
 with much fine music. At the church of St. John in the 
 same town George Bohm was organist, one of the most 
 remarkable organists of his day. He was a pupil of the 
 venerable Jan Adams Reinken, one of the disciples of 
 Peter Sweelinck, founder of the brilliant school of 
 North German organists. Reinken himself was still 
 playing at the church of St. Catharine in Hamburg, near 
 by, and Bach went often on foot to Hamburg to hear the 
 great man. About the time Bach left Liineburg, Han- 
 del came to Hamburg to play the violin and the harp- 
 sichord in the orchestra at the opera house. The tw6 
 men never came nearer meeting. 
 
 The circumstances under which Bach left Liine- 
 burg are not known. In 1703 he was for three months 
 in the service of Prince Johann Ernst at Weimar. In 
 August of that year he received the appointment of 
 organist at the New Church in the neighboring town of 
 Arnstadt. With this appointment his student days 
 may be said to end; he now steps before the world as 
 a skilled musician. In his new position he had not only 
 to play the organ but to train the choir as well, and 
 also to train a sort of musical society which furnished 
 a large choir for other churches in the town. Hence 
 he had ample opportunity to advance himself still 
 further in the art of playing the organ, and to train 
 his abilities to, the coniposition of choral music. Only 
 a few works can be definitely assigned to this period. 
 A cantata showing signs of youthful endeavor is among 
 them. The complaint of the church consistory that 
 he accompanied the congregational singing in such an 
 
 457 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 elaborate and complex way as to bewilder the singers 
 seems to prove that he was busy at this time in study- 
 ing some of the various arrangements of chorales and 
 accompaniments which have come down to us in the 
 mass of his manuscripts. Probably the congregation 
 sang the melody in unison. It was customary for the 
 organist to fill up the pauses at the end of each line 
 with a few flourishes of his own. Doubtless these were 
 oftenest improvised, yet Bach made a special study 
 of the art of accompanying, and wrote down many 
 samples of his own method for the benefit of his pupils. 
 His ardent, independent young spirit must have led 
 him into every kind of experiment during these early 
 years at Arnstadt. 
 
 By far the most interesting of his compositions of 
 this time is the little Capriccio written on the departure 
 of his brother, Johann Jacob, to the wars. It consists 
 of six little movements somewhat in the style of the 
 Biblical narratives published but a few years before 
 by Kuhnau in Leipzig. To each is prefixed a title or 
 a program, such as the account of various accidents 
 which may befall the brother, the attempts of friends 
 to dissuade him from his journey, their lament when 
 they see that their tears are of no avail, and, at last, 
 the merry song of the postilion, and a fugue on the 
 call of his horn. The workmanship is perfect and the 
 piece breathes the warm, intimate feeling which is pe- 
 culiar of all Bach's work. It has an added interest in 
 that it is the only piece of program music Bach ever 
 wrote. 
 
 In October, 1705, he obtained a leave of absence and 
 went on foot fifty miles to Liibeck to hear the famous 
 Abendmusik which was given on certain Sundays in 
 Advent at the church of St. Mary, where the great Die- 
 trich Buxtehude was organist. No detailed record of 
 his experiences in Lubeck has been preserved; but 
 that he stayed there three months over the leave he 
 
 458 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 obtained from Arnstadt proves how much he found 
 there to interest him deeply. On his return he was 
 taken to task by the authorities of the church in a coun- 
 cil, the records of which have been preserved. To 
 their reproof for having so long overstayed his leave 
 he had only to reply that he had left his work in the 
 hands of a competent substitute who he had hoped 
 would give satisfaction. At the same meeting he was 
 reprimanded for accompanying the congregational 
 singing too elaborately. They complained that he had 
 made his preludes too long, and, when spoken to in 
 that regard, had promptly made them too short, that 
 he neglected choir practice altogether, and that he went 
 to a wine shop during the sermon. To all this Bach re- 
 plied laconically, that he would try to do better. He 
 agreed to submit an explanation of his general conduct 
 in writing. All through the report one feels the inde- 
 pendent, often angry, young spirit held in restraint 
 behind the brief replies. The promised explanation 
 was not forthcoming and in November, 1706, he was 
 again taken to task. This time complaint was added 
 that he had admitted a young maiden to the organ 
 loft, and allowed her to make music there. The young 
 maiden was probably his cousin, Maria Barbara Bach, 
 to whom he was shortly after betrothed. 
 
 Conditions at Arnstadt soon became irksome to him, 
 and on June 15, 1707, we find him installed as organist 
 of the church of St. Blasius in Miihlhausen. Here his 
 salary was a little less than fifty dollars a year, to 
 which were added 'some measures of corn, two cords 
 of firewood, some brushwood, and three pounds of 
 fish.' Scanty as it seems, it was evidently enough for 
 him to marry on, and, accordingly, he took his cousin 
 to wife on October 17, 1707. They were married in 
 the village church of Dornheim, near Arnstadt, by an 
 old friend of the Bach family. 
 
 Two important records of his stay in Miihlhausen 
 
 459 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 have come down to us, his recommendation for repairs 
 on the church organ, in which he shows a most thor- 
 ough understanding of the mechanical part of the or- 
 gan even to the smallest detail, and his first important 
 composition the Rathswechsel cantata composed in 
 honor of the yearly change in municipal authorities, 
 the only one of his choral works which was engraved 
 and printed during his lifetime. It was performed on 
 February 4, 1708. 
 
 Bach did not remain a year at Miihlhausen. He re- 
 ceived an invitation from Duke Wilhelm Ernst of Wei- 
 mar to be court organist and chamber musician at a 
 much better salary. The letter by which he notified 
 the council at Miihlhausen of his desire to accept the 
 new post has been preserved. 
 
 The nine years Bach spent at Weimar must have 
 been happy and prosperous. The character of the 
 reigning duke influenced his composition. There was 
 no opera at the court and, though there was a band 
 of twenty or more players, in which Bach played both 
 harpsichord and violin, and of which he later became 
 leader, the duke's chief interest was in music for the 
 church, and Bach's most important works during his 
 stay at Weimar were for the organ and for the church 
 choir. 
 
 Meanwhile his fame was spreading over Germany. 
 It seems probable that every year he journeyed from 
 Weimar to one or another of the big German cities, 
 on what might be regarded as concert tours. One of 
 them has become specially famous on account of an 
 anecdote which has always been associated with it. 
 In 1717 he was in Dresden at the same time J. L. Mar- 
 chand, one of the most famous French clavicinists, was 
 there. In some way, quite in keeping with the cus- 
 toms of the day, Bach's friends arranged a contest of 
 skill on the harpsichord between him and Marchand. 
 The outcome is well known. Bach was ready at the 
 
 460 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 appointed spot and hour. Marchand failed to appear, 
 "Whether or not Marchand fled because he feared to be 
 worsted in a contest with Bach is hardly of great im- 
 portance, but the anecdote is extremely important in 
 that it points to the fact that Bach was already one of 
 the great masters of the harpsichord. 
 
 His fame as an organist brought many pupils to study 
 with him, among whom were J, M. Schubart, who may 
 have studied with him in Arnstadt; Caspar Vogler, 
 J. T. Krebs, and J. G. Ziegler. In 1715 he took the 
 son of his brother Christoph into his house, young 
 Bernard Bach, to whose industry we owe the greater 
 part of the valuable manuscript copy of Sebastian 
 Bach's compositions, which passed later into the hands 
 of Andreas Bach. His own family, too, was growing. 
 Both Wilhelm Friedemann, his favorite and most 
 gifted son, and Carl Philipp Emanuel, who became the 
 most distinguished musician of the next generation, 
 were bom in Weimar. 
 
 His resignation in 1717 from a position where he 
 must have been so happy comes as a surprise. In No- 
 vember of that year he moved with his family to the 
 court of Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cothen, where he 
 had been appointed chapel master and director of the 
 prince's chamber music. Anhalt-Cothen was a flour- 
 ishing little community. The prince, himself hardly 
 more than a youth, was generous and free in spirit, 
 fond of art and of music. He played the violin, the 
 'cello, and the harpsichord, and seems to have been 
 an excellent bass singer as well. His interest was 
 chiefly in secular instrumental music. There was no 
 good organ at the court nor any trained choir of 
 singers, but there was probably a good band, though 
 the names of only a few players have been preserved. 
 Among them is Christopher Ferdinand Abel, whose 
 son, Carl Friedrich, shared with Sebastian Bach's son 
 Christian the high honors of the musical world of Lon- 
 
 461 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 don in the next generation. Through them the young 
 Mozart was destined to be influenced. It is indeed 
 curious to find the fathers of the two men playing in 
 the same little court band. Just what Bach's duties 
 were in his new position has never been discovered. It 
 was a good appointment and well paid, and he was in 
 high favor with the young prince. But, as Spitta has 
 eloquently written, time has effaced or overgrown al- 
 most every trace of his labors, as the grass has over- 
 grown the castle yard which he must so often have 
 crossed, and his name has died out among the people 
 of the place almost as completely as the sounds with 
 which he once roused the echoes of the now empty and 
 deserted halls. 
 
 The six years spent at Cothen were the happiest of 
 his life. It will seem strange to those who think of 
 Bach as a composer of religious music and organ 
 music that he could have treasured in his memory 
 these years at Cothen, when his energy was directed 
 almost wholly to the composition of chamber music. 
 Yet such was the case. The explanation of this seem- 
 ing riddle is to be found in his personal character and 
 in the peculiar quality of his genius. For all the in- 
 dependent strength of his will and his intellect, his 
 was essentially a meditative nature, which found its 
 truest expression apart from the public, and in the 
 small intimate forms of chamber music. He delighted 
 in the circle of his family, he delighted in the tender, 
 faint music of the clavichord, which, we are assured, 
 was his favorite instrument. The glory and majesty 
 of his great power are in his music for the organ, the 
 exaltation of his spirit is in the St. Matthew Passion 
 and in the mass in B minor, but nowhere is the es- 
 sence of his heart so warm, so simple and so unadorned 
 as in the music he composed for clavichord, for violin, 
 and for 'cello while he was at Cothen. 
 
 His life went quietly 'on there within the court, 
 
 462 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 broken by occasional journeys such as he was accus- 
 tomed to take from Weimar. In the autumn of 1719 
 he passed through Halle, where Handel was staying 
 for a short while with his family, during the trip he 
 made from London to Italy, in search of singers. Bach 
 made an effort to meet him, only to find that Handel 
 had just departed. Later in life he again attempted 
 to see and talk with the world-famous master, and 
 again failed. The two greatest musicians of their time 
 never met. 
 
 On the seventh of July, 1720, while Bach was away 
 with his prince, his wife died. Left with four young 
 children, he married again, in about a year and a half, 
 Anna Magdalena Wiilker, youngest daughter of Johann 
 Caspar Wiilker, court trumpeter at Weissenfels. She 
 was at that time twenty-one years old, intensely musical 
 and was an excellent singer. She was, moreover, skill- 
 ful with the pen, and helped her husband in copying 
 his own and other music. Her clear, flowing handwrit- 
 ing can be seen in the manuscript copies of the solo 
 violin and violoncello sonatas, and in those of later 
 works. That she worked diligently to master the clavi- 
 chord is only one of the many instances of her desire 
 to improve her knowledge of music in every way that 
 would help her to follow and assist her husband. 
 She thus became the centre of a home life which must 
 have been in many ways the source of cheer and deep 
 happiness to her husband and her family. How much 
 this meant to Bach as he grew older amid the vexa- 
 tions of his post in the St. Thomas school in Leipzig 
 cannot be overestimated, for, as we have already said, 
 he was at heart a man who withdrew from the bustle 
 of society and the world at large into the intimacy of 
 home life. 
 
 The list of works he composed at Cothen is a long 
 one and momentous in the history of music. Many 
 of them are epoch-making; all bear the marks of his 
 
 463 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 undying genius in their workmanship, in their perfec- 
 tion of form and of detail, in the warmth of the inspira- 
 tion that prompted them. Inasmuch as during the six 
 years of his stay there he devoted himself almost solely 
 to the composition of secular instrumental music, the 
 period stands out distinct and unique in his life. What 
 his daily life was, what his actual duties at the court, 
 we do not know; but that they were happy years the 
 music he wrote attests. Moreover, we have his own 
 word written some years later to a friend in Russia 
 that he would have been content to pass the remainder 
 of his days there. But the marriage of Prince Leopold 
 in 1722 seems to have changed the spirit of the court. 
 The young princess had no special fondness for music, 
 and JBach no longer felt himself in congenial surround- 
 ings. In 1722 the venerable Johann Kuhnau, cantor of 
 the St. Thomas school in Leipzig, died. Within a 
 year Bach obtained the post, moved with his family 
 to Leipzig, and at the end of May, 1723, was installed 
 in the position which he was to hold until the time of 
 his death. 
 
 The St. Thomas school was an adjunct of the old 
 St. Thomas church. It had been founded in the thir- 
 teenth century, and up to the time of the Reformation 
 had been under the control of Augustinian monks, but 
 at that time had been taken into the control of the 
 municipal council. Bach was, therefore, in the em- 
 ploy of the town authorities, for the most part men 
 with little knowledge or love of music, with whom 
 he was seldom in good accord. From the earliest 
 times the main purpose of the school had been to train 
 singers for the church of St. Thomas and later for the 
 church of St. Nicholas, but it was a charity school for 
 orphans as well, and most of the boys were unruly. 
 Bach's chief duties were the training of these choir boys 
 and the furnishing of music for the St. Thomas and 
 
 464 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 St. Nicholas churches. Officially he had nothing to 
 do with the organ in either church.* 
 
 Bach was beset by difficulties and unpleasantness on 
 every hand. To begin, the school was disorganized 
 and the boys unruly, as we have said. Nor was music 
 in very high respect there, if we may judge by the 
 prospectus of studies which said that, next to the glory 
 of God, the chief aim of singing was to promote the 
 pupils' digestions. Bach's work with them was not 
 heavy. On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday he had 
 to give a lesson in music at nine, and one at twelve, and 
 on Friday one at twelve. On Friday, too, he had to 
 take the boys to church at seven in the morning, and 
 on Saturday at the same time had to expound the 
 Latin catechism to the third and fourth classes. On 
 certain days in the week he had to give a Latin lesson 
 to the third class. On Thursday he was free. The 
 rehearsals of the Sunday music took place regularly 
 on Saturday afternoon. But the boys were frequently 
 in bad condition. It was a custom for them to parade 
 through the streets from time to time at various houses 
 for donations. Their voices were often ruined by 
 colds, and Bach could have had but little pleasure in 
 training such material. Moreover, the spirit of the 
 school had been demoralized by the light Italian music 
 which had gained a foothold through the town opera 
 house, and through Telemann, organist at the New 
 Church, and the boys frequently deserted the school 
 to sing in the musical union which Telemann had or- 
 ganized. However, in the course of a few years Bach 
 got control of the musical union and of music in the 
 famous old university as well, and was thus in a posi- 
 tion to train a portion of the inhabitants of the town 
 to an appreciation of his own kind of music. 
 
 * Both St. Thomas school and church are still In existence. The boys' 
 choir is one of the finest in Germany and may be heard as in Bach's time 
 every Simday of the year, in a motet. 
 
 465 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 From the start he set himself vigorously to reform 
 and improve the condition of music in the St. Thomas 
 and St. Nicholas churches. To this end he tried to 
 get hold of as many singers and as many players as 
 possible. Here he was in constant conflict with the 
 town council, who refused to furnish him with money 
 necessary to engage the boys and men he needed. In 
 August, 1730, he submitted to the council a statement 
 of what material should be rightly placed at his service 
 if he was expected to furnish 'well-appointed church 
 music,' and a brief and very telling account of what 
 he actually had. Concerning the instrumentalists nec- 
 essary to accompany church cantatas, etc., he writes: 
 'In all, at least eighteen persons are needed for instru- 
 ments. The number appointed is eight, four town 
 pipers, three town violinists, and one assistant. Discre- 
 tion forbids me telling the plain truth as to their ability 
 and musical knowledge; however, it ought to be consid- 
 ered that they are partly inefiBcient and partly not in 
 such good practice as they should be. The most im- 
 portant instruments for supporting the parts, and the 
 most indispensable in themselves are wanting.' He gives 
 the names of the boys in the school, dividing them 
 into three classes: 'seventeen available, twenty not yet 
 available, and seventeen useless.' The statement was 
 quite ignored by the town council. Up to the year 
 1746 no additional appropriation was devoted to keep- 
 ing up the music in the churches of St. Thomas and 
 St. Nicholas. That Bach was angry and embittered by 
 such a disregard is evident in the famous letter to his 
 friend Erdmann, in which he wrote, among other 
 things, that the appointment was by no means so ad- 
 vantageous as it had been described to him, that many 
 fees incidental to it had been stopped, that the town 
 was very dear to live in and the authorities were very 
 strange folks with no love of music, so that he lived 
 under almost constant vexation, jealousy, and persecu- 
 
 466 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 tion; finally, that he felt compelled to seek his fortune, 
 with God's assistance, elsewhere.* 
 
 Affairs could not have been quite so hopeless as Bach 
 felt they were. At any rate, he seems to have done 
 nothing more in the way of finding another position. 
 It can hardly be doubted that he would have had no 
 difficulty in doing so had he long wanted to. His fame 
 as an organist was widespread over Germany; and he 
 was a man of firmest determination and no end of 
 courage. He must have decided that the advantages 
 Leipzig offered him outweighed the disadvantages 
 under which the stupidity or indifference of the town 
 council placed him. Moreover, shortly after this af- 
 fair, in fact, just before the letter to Erdmann was 
 written, a new rector, J. M. Gesner, was appointed to 
 the St. Thomas school, a man who never failed in his 
 appreciation of Bach and sympathy with his aims, and 
 who, most important of all, had the special talent of 
 managing boys, and was able in the few years of his 
 stay in Leipzig to establish order and to put the school 
 upon a new and solid foundation. He probably suc- 
 ceeded in easing the relations between Bach and the 
 town council, and through his efforts Bach was released 
 from giving lessons in Latin and all other general in- 
 struction apart from music. 
 
 Bach settled in Leipzig. His home life was happy, 
 and varied by the visits of all musicians of prominence 
 who passed through the town. His hospitality and his 
 courtesy were famous. Men journeyed to Leipzig just 
 to hear him play upon the organ. One man wrote 
 in the account of his life which he contributed to Mat- 
 theson's Ehrenpforte: 'I journeyed to Leipzig to hear 
 the great Johann Sebastian Bach play. This great ar- 
 tist received me most courteously and so bewitched 
 
 * This famous letter is printed in full in Spitta's Life of Johann Sebas- 
 tian Bach. It Is illuminating in regard not only to Bacli's character, but to 
 his family life as well. 
 
 467 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 me by his uncommon skill that the troubles of the 
 journey were forgotten as nothing.' Quantz, the fam- 
 ous flute player, teacher of Frederick the Great, wrote : 
 'The admirable Johann Sebastian Bach has at length 
 in modern times brought the art of the organ to its 
 greatest perfection.' Occasionally he went to Dresden 
 to hear the opera or to play for friends there. One 
 chronicle has it that he would say to his favorite son: 
 'Friedemann, shall we go to Dresden again and hear 
 their beautiful little songs?' In 1736 he was appointed 
 court composer to August III, king of Poland and of 
 Saxony. He retained an honorary position at the court 
 of Anhalt-Cothen, though Prince Leopold, his former 
 friend and patron, died not long after Bach came to 
 Leipzig. His sons Friedemann and Emanuel grew 
 to manhood and acquired positions. Emanuel was em- 
 ployed at the court of Frederick the Great at Pots- 
 dam. Pupils surrounded him, most of whom were not 
 members of the St. Thomas school, but students at the 
 university; and in spite of the fact that on many oc- 
 casions he showed signs of quick and violent temper, 
 he won not only respect but love from most of them. 
 One of the most famous, Altnikol, married a daughter 
 of the house. At last Frederick the Great, having heard 
 much of his marvellous talent through Emanuel and 
 his pupils, many of whom were playing in the royal 
 band, summoned him to the court at Potsdam. Bach 
 arrived at Potsdam on the 7th of May, 1747, accom- 
 panied by Friedemann, and was received with respect 
 by the great king. The story is well known how Fred- 
 erick, when he heard that Bach was in town, laid aside 
 his flute, which he had taken up for his evening con- 
 cert, and saying, 'Gentlemen, old Bach is arrived,' 
 sent for him to come at once to the palace. Bach was 
 made to try over the new Silbermann pianofortes, of 
 which the king had several, and the next evening the 
 king desired him to improvise a six-part fugue on a 
 
 468 
 
Johann Sebastian Bach 
 
 After the painting recently discovered bg Dr. Fritz Yollbach 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 subject which he was allowed to choose for himself. 
 In all this experience Bach very evidently fulfilled the 
 expectations which had been roused in the king. Upon 
 his return to Leipzig he composed his famous 'Musical 
 Offering,' a collection of pieces in most complicated 
 style, all based upon or related to a theme which the 
 king had given him, and dedicated it to the king. This 
 led to the much greater 'Art of Fugue,' the last great 
 work from his pen. It is made up of fifteen fugues and 
 four canons on one and the same theme, employing 
 the most complicated and difiicult counterpoint in the 
 expression of a calm and noble emotion. A good part 
 of it had been engraved on copper plates before Bach 
 died, but not all. 
 
 During the last year of his life his sight failed. In 
 the winter of 1749-50 he underwent two operations, 
 both of which were unsuccessful, and he was left to- 
 tally blind and shaken in health. On July 18, 1750, his 
 sight was suddenly restored, but a few hours afterward 
 he was stricken with apoplexy and he died on Tuesday, 
 July 28, at a quarter to nine in the evening. With him 
 at the time of his death were his wife and daughters, 
 his youngest son Christian, his son-in-law Altnikdl and 
 one of his pupils. .The funeral was on the following 
 Friday from St. John's church, where the preacher an- 
 nounced: 'The very worthy and venerable Herr Jo- 
 hann Sebastian Bach, court composer to his kingly 
 majesty of Poland and electoral and serene highness 
 of Saxony, chapel master to his highness the prince 
 of Anhalt-Cothen, and cantor to the school at St. 
 Thomas's in town, having fallen calmly and blessedly 
 asleep in God, in St. Thomas's churchyard his body has 
 this day, according to Christian usage, been consigned 
 to the earth.' It was remarked in a sitting of the town 
 council on August 8 that Herr Bach had been a great 
 musician but not a schoolmaster. 
 
 Such are the outlines of Bach's life. It was decidedly 
 
 469 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 a happy one as lives go. There is much evidence to 
 show that he was impulsive and that he worked at 
 his music with great enthusiasm, but the tenor of his 
 life was even, not erratic, methodical, and simple. 
 It is strange to think of him as a schoolmaster, but such 
 he was for a great part of his life. Though the duties 
 of teaching must have been often irksome, they were 
 relatively light, and in no way demanded so much time 
 or effort as to deprive him of opportunity or enthusi- 
 asm to compose. His own report of the condition of 
 the choirs and band at the school can leave no doubt 
 that he never heard his choral works performed in a 
 manner which we should deem at the present day ap- 
 propriate to their greatness. Probably the two choirs 
 at his service for singing the St. Matthew Passion num- 
 bered not more than twelve singers each, and the solo- 
 ists were members of the choir; he never had a com- 
 plete band, and the organs at St. Thomas church were 
 bad. There was lax discipline and disorder, too. Still 
 these were inadequacies and improprieties from which 
 most composers of his day suffered. Even the Abend- 
 musik at Liibeck, as fine church music as was likely to 
 be heard in all Germany, was interrupted and marred 
 by the noise of the choir boys racing and capering in 
 the choir loft. Bach was not exceptionally unfortunate 
 in this regard. In material affairs he was relatively 
 well-off; his family life was exceptionally happy and 
 complete, he won the love and admiration of many 
 friends and pupils, and honor from princes. 
 
 Of his many children but three boys and a girl long 
 survived him, Wilhelm Friedemann, Carl Philipp 
 Emanuel, Johann Christian, and Regina. Friedemann, 
 the most gifted and the favorite son, became a drunk- 
 ard, Emanuel and Christian became famous, one in 
 Germany, the other in London. All three are to blame 
 for the fact that their father's widow, all but their 
 mother, fell into abject poverty and dependence upon 
 
 470 
 
LIFE OF J. S. BACH 
 
 public charity. Regina lived to be an old woman, 
 friendless and likewise poverty-stricken until not long 
 before her death, Rochlitz, the publisher, undertook 
 a publication by subscription of her father's works. 
 Among the subscribers Beethoven was the first. 
 
 Bach published only a very few works during his 
 lifetime. The majori^ of his compositions passed in 
 manuscript into the keeping of his sons. Emanuel 
 later brought out many, but much of what fell to the 
 keeping of Friedemann was carelessly lost or sold for 
 a pittance here and there. There is no way of telhng 
 how much of the great man's music has disappeared, 
 but the amount which has been preserved is prodig- 
 ious. As is so often the case among musicians, and, in- 
 deed, among most artists, his activity is more or less 
 clearly divided into several periods. Thus the early 
 years at Amstadt and Miihlhausen are years of experi- 
 ment and study. In the account of his life the 'Ne- 
 crology,' which was published by Emanuel in a periodi- 
 cal owned by Mizler and called the Bibliotheque, we 
 learn that during these years he frequently spent the 
 whole night in study and practice. During the Weimar 
 period, when he was both organist and player in the 
 duke's band, he came into contact with Italian music, 
 and devoted himself with enthusiasm and evidently 
 untiring energy to the mastery of those principles of 
 clear and lucid form which were at that time exempli- 
 fied at their best in the violin works of Corelli and 
 Vivaldi. It was a period of great and brilliant works 
 for the organ, probably the toccata and fugue in D 
 minor, which, however, because of its very evident rela- 
 tionship in style and even in theme to works of Bux- 
 tehude, may have been conceived earlier; almost cer- 
 tainly the fugue in G minor, the prelude and fugue in 
 A minor, the colossal toccata in F, and perhaps the 
 one passacaglia. At this time, possibly largely as a 
 matter of study and exercise, he transcribed concertos 
 
 471 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 of Vivaldi for harpsichord, mastering thus the form, 
 practically invented by the Italian, which he later used 
 so brilliantly in the Italian Concerta for clavicembalo. 
 At Cothen he was cut off from the organ and asso- 
 ciated wholly with secular music, and in this period 
 naturally fall the first part of the Well-tempered Clavi- 
 chord, the French suites, the suites for violin alone 
 and for 'cello, the Brandenburg concertos and the over- 
 tures for orchestra. Finally at Leipzig, where he was 
 expected to furnish music for almost every Sunday of 
 the year, he composed his great choral works, about 
 three hundred cantatas, six motets at least, the Christ- 
 mas and Easter oratorios, the Magnificats, the great 
 mass in B minor, and shorter masses, and four settings 
 of the Passion, of which that according to St. Matthew 
 is perhaps the most sublime of his works and the per- 
 fect expression of his genius. Instrumental works also 
 belong to this period, marked by maturity and calm, 
 a broadening of form, an alienation from the lucid 
 conciseness of the Italian and French styles. There 
 are, for example, the prelude and fugue for organ in 
 E-flat major, the English suites and the second part of 
 the Well-tempered Clavichord for clavier, the over- 
 ture a la maniere frangaise, the 'Musical Offering,' and 
 the 'Art of Fugue.' 
 
 II 
 
 Within the limits of a single chapter there is no space 
 to discuss these great works in detail, nor to point to 
 the ways in which Bach's genius manifested itself in 
 each of them. We shall, therefore, give a brief analy- 
 sis of that genius in general and then proceed to show 
 the position Bach occupies in the course of the devel- 
 opment of music. 
 
 Bach's skill in' polyphonic writing is perhaps un- 
 equalled both in its minute perfection and in its breadth 
 
 473 
 
QUALITIES OF BACH'S GENIUS 
 
 and power. It is evident in nearly everything he wrote, 
 be it the simplest of the two-part Inventions or the 
 mighty choruses in the B minor mass, the fugues for 
 organ or the fugues for solo violin. Within the most 
 confined limits or ranging over mighty expanses it still 
 serves his end, marvellously flexible and seeming spon- 
 taneous. Yet this skill does not constitute his genius. 
 In general it differs more in degree than in kind from 
 that of his predecessors and his contemporaries. In 
 spite of the rapidly spreading domination of the mon- 
 odic style, which was the style resulting from the Ital- 
 ian opera, the style of melody and simple accompani- 
 ments in chords, the polyphonic style still retained 
 the allegiance of serious musicians, and even, in fact, 
 of those who were less serious. All composers, prob- 
 ably all church organists, in the time of Bach could 
 write fugues, double or single; could even improvise 
 fugues; could write canons; wrote them as a pas- 
 time. Such skill was acquired almost in childhood,, 
 aided largely by copying volumes of music. Many 
 composers discarded it altogether in writing for the 
 public, many made a false show of it. It was, however, 
 a manner of expression still common to the time, al- 
 most an idiom. So, though Bach's skill could amaze 
 even those who had been brought up to write fugues as 
 daily exercise, it appeared to his contemporaries some- 
 thing as a matter of course, and to historians and 
 critics allied with the new schools a positive detriment 
 — a failing. At the present day the idiom in its natural- 
 ness is so far lost that our ears can hardly understand 
 it. We no longer listen to polyphonic music without 
 very special training. We do not follow it naturally, 
 almost instinctively. The skill amazes, does not im- 
 mediately express. It was, of course, thoroughly natu- 
 ral to Bach. But it was no more to him than an art, 
 than, let us say, the art of speech; for he was wont to 
 liken the interweaving of several parts in music to a 
 
 473 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 conversation upon a given subject. Bach's skill in 
 polyphony is but a manner of speech, most fault- 
 less and subtle and powerful. Others acquired the 
 manner, not perfectly, but none had the ideals, the 
 emotions to express which have filled his works with 
 warmth, with vitality, with actual life. 
 
 Thus his melodies are beautiful and expressive. Take, 
 for example, the subjects of the fugues in the first part 
 of the Well-tempered Clavichord. Here one might rea- 
 sonably expect type melodies, mechanical phrases inex- 
 pressive in themselves, worthless, except as polyphonic 
 material; the sort of phrases handed on from composer 
 to composer, almost note for note — ^mere formulas. 
 But one is astonished by the endless variety and fresh- 
 ness. All are original. Even the shortest, those which 
 are hardly more than a kernel of melody, have a dis- 
 tinction, such as the subjects of the very first fugue, in 
 C major, of the serious, indescribably sad figures in 
 C-sharp minor, and E-flat minor, and the exalted, in- 
 spired fugue in B-flat minor. A more passionately ex- 
 pressive phrase is hardly to be found in music than 
 that upon which the fugue in G minor is built, a more 
 graceful melody than the subject of the fugue in C- 
 sharp major; more delicate or humorous than those of 
 the C minor and B-flat major fugues. These touches 
 of pure melodic expressiveness are but preludes to 
 the great melodies of the cantatas and the Passion. 
 The melodies Mein glduhiges Herze from the Pentecost 
 cantata, 'Only Weep' and 'Have Mercy, Lord' from the 
 Passion according to St. Matthew are no more con- 
 spicuous than many others for their expanse and the 
 depth of feeling which breathes in them. The grace 
 of certain melodies in the suites for violin and for 'cello 
 alone are captivating, the aria for the G string froni 
 the second orchestral suite most profound; and there 
 is a type of melody especially dear to him, such as is 
 found in the middle movement of the sonatas and con- 
 
 474 
 
QUALITIES OF BACH'S GENIUS 
 
 certos for violin, wonderfully free, rhapsodical, as 
 though improvised. In general he avoided the elab- 
 orate, ornamental roulades characteristic of the Italian 
 aria, even when writing in that form. In the few cases 
 in which he did employ them they are expressive and 
 gently realistic. In all his work there is evidence of a 
 melodic genius of the purest kind, often not vocal, it 
 is true, and often wound in a polyphonic web, but 
 astonishingly genuine and inspired. 
 
 Though the quality of a great part of the music of 
 Bach is meditative and not seldom mystical, parts of 
 it are conspicuous for their rhythmical lightness and 
 delicacy. Especially the suites for violin and 'cello 
 have a rhythmical animation which is irresistible. The 
 dance movements which compose the last parts of the 
 Ouverture d. la maniere frangaise, and movements in 
 the English suites, depend almost wholly for their 
 charm on the incisiveness and zest of their rhythm. 
 Nor is such sprightliness lacking in the fugues, though 
 in polyphonic music it is usually unemphasized. The 
 fugue in D major in the first part of the Well-tempered 
 Clavichord might be called a fugue in rhythm; the 
 fugue in F minor in the second part, too, is almost 
 wholly guided by a playful rhythm. It is to the music 
 of Bach therefore that one should look to find the 
 polyphonic style set free of its proverbial heaviness 
 and inertia, light and airy as laughter and true wit, 
 strong as the march of an army. 
 
 But to harmony more than to all else in music the 
 touch of the genius of Bach brought new life and a 
 splendor that can never grow duU. It is as a harmonist 
 that he stands the father of modem music. His pupils 
 have told us that the first task to which he set them 
 was exercise, not in counterpoint, but in harmoniza- 
 tion of simple chorale melodies. If one tries to analyze 
 the difference between a Bach fugue and other fugues 
 it is not to be found in the superior workmanship and 
 
 475 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 finish, nor, save little, in the melodic and rhythmical 
 inspiration, but in the background of harmony. In 
 harmony lie the mystery and wonder of Bach's imper- 
 ishable music. It is half the strength of its form. One 
 might well ask what is a fugue without Bach. The 
 seeds of it are in the old vocal polyphonic style, pas- 
 sages in which one voice imitated another at the inter- 
 val of a fifth or fourth, were perhaps suggested to com- 
 posers by voices singing the same words in turn; and 
 the device was taken over by organists in the late six- 
 teenth and early seventeenth century and used in 
 ricercari and canzone, with no notion of form and 
 balance; it was used in preludizing to the singing of 
 the congregation, but had no true independent exist- 
 ence apart from the chorale to which it led; it was 
 used as the second part of the so-called French over- 
 ture. Experimenting in one way or another, composers 
 gradually built up a fairly definite instrumental form 
 of fugue. But the fugues, notably the organ fugues, 
 of even the greatest organists before Bach, lacked logi- 
 cal construction. Buxtehude's were built, as Albert 
 Schweitzer has said, on a principle of laisser-aller. 
 There seemed to be no good reason, according to Dr. 
 Hugo Riemann, why any of them should not end or 
 should not go on. It was Bach at last who gave to the 
 fugue perfect proportion and organic unity. Principles 
 of a form in music more clear-cut than any German 
 forms he acquired, as we have said, in Weimar from 
 a study of Italian and French masterpieces, but he 
 based all his forms on a foundation of harmony and 
 to all his works gave proportion and logic sprung from 
 harmony alone. 
 
 Sir Hubert Parry in his study of Johann Sebastian 
 Bach has demonstrated by careful analysis what a 
 surprising number of preludes in the Well-tempered 
 Clavichord are fundamentally progressions of chords. 
 The name alone of this great series is suggestive, as we 
 
 476 
 
QUALITIES OF BACH'S GENIUS 
 
 shall later prove. The clearest example of this har- 
 monic prelude is the very first — that in C major. Hardly 
 less clear are the second, the third, the sixth, the fif- 
 teenth, the twenty-first, and the twenty-third. Prac- 
 tically all, indeed, are upon the same plan, though in 
 those mentioned the plan is clearest. This is, of course, 
 no invention of Bach. The prelude grew out of a few 
 chords rolled by an organist or player of the harpsi- 
 chord or lute to claim the attention of his audience. 
 The point is that Bach has made out of these preludes 
 music of ineffable beauty merely by the gift of his 
 genius in harmony. The sequences of his chords may 
 be as modern as Wagner's, chromatic alterations even 
 more subtle; or, as in the organ works, they may move 
 through broad diatonic highways, powerful in suspen- 
 sions and magnificent in delays. And, as to his power 
 of expression through harmony, let one listen to the 
 recitatives of the St. Matthew Passion, one of the im- 
 mortal, unfathomable creations of man's genius; con- 
 sider how they move on phrase after phrase, page after 
 page, bearing the whole weight of a mighty composi- 
 tion and unaccompanied save by a few scattered 
 chords. It may well be doubted if any art has or 
 could have added one touch more of inexplicable, 
 unspeakable beauty to the story of the Passion, save 
 only these few scattered chords of Ba:ch's genius. 
 
 Ill 
 
 We have already observed that all great composers 
 from the time of Beethoven have acknowledged Bach 
 as the father of modern music, but this relationship 
 which his descendants have so gladly acknowledged is, 
 on the whole, general and intangible. The reason is 
 partly that Bach invented no new forms, and that the 
 forms which he chose, and the style in which he wrote, 
 
 477 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 passed out of circulation, so to speak, immediately 
 after his death. The fugue, the cantata, and the Pas- 
 sion he brought to the highest point it was possible for 
 these forms to attain. They have rarely been attempted 
 since with near enough success to suggest even imita- 
 tion. The fugues of Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms 
 are essentially different from the fugues of Bach. 
 Mendelssohn fell far short of the master whom he, 
 more almost than all others, worshipped. Cesar 
 Franck has been compared to Bach, but is curiously 
 Unlike him. The cantata and the Passion grew up to 
 Bach and then stopped: the cantata, because even in 
 the hands of Bach it was an uncouth hybrid, neither 
 opera, which is itself an illogical mixture, nor church 
 music; the Passion, because, as Bach left it, it is as un- 
 attainable as the sun. As far as form and outward 
 show are concerned, therefore, Bach's position in the 
 history of music is that of the culmination, the ultimate 
 consummation, of certain styles and forms now obso- 
 lete. To understand his appearance in the history of 
 music one must step back into the history of the sev- 
 enteenth century in German music, a history strangely 
 complicated with that of Protestantism, Lutheran 
 hymns, and cantata texts, inextricably associated with 
 the church and with the organ loft. In the growth of 
 church music in Germany Bach had not one, nor two 
 predecessors. A dozen (Afferent courses converged in 
 him. Strangely enough, of the music of the one man 
 before him with whom he might seem related, Hein- 
 rich Schiitz, he knew little or nothing. All others 
 worthy of the name of composers, however, contrib- 
 uted some share to his development. 
 
 All the great organists from the time there were 
 great organists led to Bach, step by step, unmistakably. 
 Every new phase of form, every new device of virtu- 
 osity but paved the way for one who was so supremely 
 great as to cast them all into shade or oblivion. All 
 
 478 
 
BACH'S SERVICE TO MUSIC 
 
 hymn writers, all composers of chorales led the same 
 way. The Protestant religion found its perfect artistic 
 expression in Bach, not in the cantatas but in the 
 chorale fantasies for organ, the motets and the Passion 
 according to St. Matthew. Catholic art contributed its 
 share. He copied out masses by Palestrina, and by 
 other men now forgotten, such as Lotti and Caldara. 
 For a good part of the Lutheran service, especially at 
 St. Thomas church in Leipzig, was practically Catholic 
 in form. The Kyrie, the Gloria, Credo, Benedictus, 
 Sanctus, and Agnus Dei had their place in the ritual; 
 and, what is more, German composers, and Bach was 
 no exception, seldom troubled to set them to new 
 music but adapted music of the earlier Italian writers 
 to the new German words. The enormous number of 
 cantatas was owing to the fact that the form had grown 
 out of a native German custom of singing hymns be- 
 tween the reading of the Gospel and the Credo, on the 
 one hand, and the sermon, on the other, and composers 
 were given opportunity to set texts not already time- 
 worn. The history of these texts is one full of sad 
 failures to achieve a truly artistic form, of futile eif orts 
 to reconcile chorale and hymn with the new operatic 
 style, of bad verse and trivial, mechanical sentiment. 
 Bach was constantly harassed by problems of text, 
 varying in his choice between an old style Bible text 
 woven with the strophes of the chorale hymns, by far 
 the best though least suited to the operatic style of 
 music which had established itself in the church, and 
 a free text developed from a line or passage in the 
 Bible, consisting of strophic arias and passages for 
 recitative in the so-called madrigal style, a loose versi- 
 fication. The artistic perfection of the Passion is due 
 no little to the fact that he himself supervised the ar- 
 rangement of the text, the introduction of strophic 
 verse for arias, and madrigal style for ariosos and the 
 chorales. 
 
 479 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 The history of Passion music leads to Bach, and 
 further than that it cannot go. Way back in the Middle 
 Ages the story of the Passion was chanted in the 
 churches, some time, usually on Good Friday in holy 
 week. The words of the evangelist, of actors in the 
 drama, and of Christ were chanted by a priest or dea- 
 con in the monotonous reciting tone, and the choir 
 was given the ejaculations of the crowd. Later the 
 words of Christ, the evangelist, Pilate, Peter, etc., were 
 allowed to different chanters and with the growth of 
 the operatic style the monotonous chant was changed 
 to more expressive recitative. This intrusion of the 
 operatic style was at times bitterly opposed, and the 
 greatest German composer before Bach — Heinrich 
 Schiitz — ^was among the reactionaries, though he had 
 received his training in Italy under Giovanni Gabrieli 
 and Monteverdi himself. However, the influence of 
 opera was too strong for the conservative clergy, and 
 not only did recitative, aria, and dramatic choruses 
 come to play a part in the singing of the story of the 
 Passion, but instruments were introduced into the ac- 
 companiment, and the whole became practically a 
 drama. The need for texts suitable for treatment in 
 recitative and aria finally led to versified arrangements 
 of the Biblical narrative itself, as well as to the intro- 
 duction of strophic stanzas interpretative of the mood 
 or action of the story. A new character, the so-called 
 daughter of Zion, was introduced as a convenient 
 spokeswoman for the congregation. 
 
 Such were the theatrical arrangements made by 
 C. F. Hunold, known as Menantes, and by B. H. 
 Brockes, a town councillor of Hamburg, whose ar- 
 rangement was set to music by Keiser, Mattheson, Tele- 
 mann, and Handel. Chorale melodies and hymns 
 found no place in these passions. Schiitz had em- 
 ployed them at the beginning and the end of his set- 
 tings, as introduction and epilogue. They were appar- 
 
 480 
 
THE PASSION 
 
 ently first woven into the body of the work by a little- 
 known composer, Johann Sebastiani, about 1672. The 
 arrangement which Bach finally used for his St. Mat- 
 thew Passion was a combination of these earlier styles. 
 For the narrative he reverted to the Biblical text, di- 
 vided among the various characters. He retained the 
 interpretative arias which in the midst of the story 
 dwell for a time on the suffering, on the horror of it 
 all, and their etfect upon man; he included among the 
 singers the Daughter of Zion. The chorus was used 
 for the utterances of the crowd, with considerable re- 
 straint, and, throughout the work, for richly harmon- 
 ized chorales which served to draw the congregation 
 into the tragedy even though they were but once or 
 twice given a voice in them. At the beginning and 
 the end massive double choruses, into the first of which 
 a chorale melody was woven, opened and concluded 
 the story. Orchestra and organ made up the accom- 
 paniment. All these various elements he combined 
 with unerring sense of proportion and fitness and with 
 no inconsistencies and no histrionic glamour, so that 
 the work stands perfect as a piece of art, and as the 
 purest expression in music of the Lutheran religion. 
 In his general treatment of the orchestra Bach is 
 allied so much more closely to the past than to the 
 future that in this regard he can be said to have had 
 practically no influence upon his successors. Before 
 his death the Mannheim school, led by Johann Stamitz, 
 was already pointing the way toward a new treatment 
 of the orchestra which was to be taken up and de- 
 veloped by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, Bach dif- 
 fers from these later men not so much in a lack of 
 appreciation of tone color as in his forcing all instru- 
 ments, irrespective of their peculiar capabilities, to 
 conformity in a polyphonic style much influenced by 
 the organ. The result is that trumpets and oboes, for 
 examples, are made to play rapid, agile figures suit- 
 
 481 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 able only to violin. All instruments are treated in the 
 same way, may be required to take equal and similar 
 parts in the music. This is, of course, distinctly old- 
 fashioned. Purely technical reasons would prevent 
 any composer of the new school from writing for the 
 oboes as he would write for the violins. Sonority and 
 color, too, ousted the old polyphonic ideal. Bach was 
 not, however, deaf to orchestral color. Often in the 
 accompaniments to cantatas and other vocal works 
 the coloring is rich and unusual, and unusual combina- 
 tions of solo instruments in the Brandenburg concertos 
 seem to show him on voyages of discovery, so to speak, 
 into the effects of combinations of different timbres. 
 
 The two series of orchestral works are the Branden- 
 burg concertos and the Ouvertures, both written during 
 his stay at Cothen. The names themselves speak from 
 the now distant past of orchestral music. The name 
 concerto then signified a composition written for a 
 small group of solo instruments, called the concertino, 
 accompanied by or alternating with a larger group 
 called the tutti. For instance, in the second concerto 
 the solo group is composed of trumpet, flute, oboe, and 
 violin, the tutti being in all cases made up of strings. 
 The form is Corellian. The relatively modern treat- 
 ment of a solo instrmnent in a concerto, writing for 
 it to show off its special qualities and technical pecu- 
 liarities, is hardly suggested, tutti and concertino hav- 
 ing to play the same musical material in the same po- 
 lyphonic style, offering principally contrast between so- 
 nority and delicacy; though, as we have said, the ele- 
 ment of tone color plays a part. It must be added, 
 however, that the long passage for harpsichord at the 
 end of the first movement of the fifth concerto is very 
 similar to modern cadenzas. The treatment of all 
 parts is consistently polyphonic. 
 
 The same is true of the four Ouvertures. These com- 
 positions are in reality suites, having as the first two 
 
 482 
 
BACH'S ORCHESTRAL TREATMENT 
 
 movements the two characteristics of the French ouver- 
 ture invented by LuUy, one slow and serious, the other 
 an extended allegro in fugal style. The following 
 movements are in dance forms and rhythms. They 
 are scored for the customary brass, wood, and strings, 
 employed here not so much for their specialties as for 
 contrasts of sonority and delicacy. 
 
 Bach has not, therefore, contributed in matters of 
 style and form to the development of music after his 
 time nor to the growth of orchestral music, which was 
 the distinguishing feature of the age which followed 
 immediately upon his death. This is due, as we have 
 said, to the fact that the style and forms which were 
 his own inheritance passed out of circulation. In many 
 cases, too, his work was of such unique greatness that 
 no imitation of it could come near enough to suggest 
 more than most vaguely an influence. Copies of his 
 style but emphasize its remoteness, both in time and 
 quality. Certain works must remain forever unique 
 because their peculiar perfection must always keep 
 them in a class by themselves. Among these there are 
 none more striking than the works for solo violin and 
 for solo violoncello, works which have no counterpart 
 in music. Still, we are not limited to intangible influ- 
 ences of melody and harmony in noting the effect 
 which his compositions have had upon his followers. 
 In two ways at least he gave a definite impulse to the 
 course of music; he reorganized the system of finger- 
 ing keyboard instruments, and invented a satisfactory 
 and universally accepted method of equal tempera- 
 ment. 
 
 IV 
 
 About the time Friedemann, his first born son, was 
 nine years old Bach began to compose for him the book 
 of pieces known as the 'Little Clavier Book.' It is 
 
 483 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 what we should call to-day a graded collection of short 
 pieces intended to perfect the already striking abili- 
 ties of his son. Beginning with the simplest elements, 
 he introduced difiBculties by degrees until the last 
 pieces, in polyphonic style, demand a very consider- 
 able skill. The most interesting passages are those 
 in which Bach has indicated the fingering, for they 
 prove that he reorganized all the systems of fingering 
 in use in his day and perfected one of his own upon 
 which future developments are based. His chief inno- 
 vation is in the manner of using the thumb. Up to 
 the time of Couperin, players of keyed instruments 
 used only the four fingers of the hand. The thumb 
 hung idle. The position must have been stiff and 
 awkward and it is hard to understand how such bril- 
 liant performers as the north German organists ever 
 overcame the difficulties of it. Yet Bach himself told 
 his son Emanuel that in his youth he had seen great 
 organists play who never used the thumb except for 
 the widest stretches. Couperin's famous book on the 
 art of playing the harpsichord appeared in 1717, the 
 very year Bach went to Cothen. In it he advocated the 
 use of the thumb, but over the fingers, not under them. 
 Bach was one of the first to appreciate the advantages 
 of passing the thumb under the hand. It is hardly 
 possible that he invented the practice. Many of the 
 oldest works for the harpsichord must have called for 
 a use of the thmnb, and the contemporary works of 
 Domenico Scarlatti would have been almost insur- 
 mountably difficult without it; but in theory the use 
 of the thumb under the hand was avoided, and Bach's 
 'Little Clavier Book' contains probably the first open 
 recognition of the advantages of so using it, no matter 
 what the actual practice of virtuosi had been up to 
 that time. One will observe that Bach did not abandon 
 the old system, and that many passages marked by him 
 are to be played in the old way; that is, by passing the 
 
 484 
 
REVISION OF KEYBOARD TECHNIQUE 
 
 long fingers, chiefly the middle finger, over the short 
 ones; but he laid the foundations of the new. The 
 most famous of players in the next generation was his 
 own son Emanuel, whose book on playing the harpsi- 
 chord was the standard authority down to the time 
 that the harpsichord was finally supplanted by the 
 pianoforte. Haydn and Mozart undoubtedly profited 
 by it, and thus the methods of the father were spread 
 abroad through the son and played a considerable part 
 in the development of music for the pianoforte. 
 
 'The Well-tempered Clavichord' * is unquestionably 
 an epoch-making work. It is, as is well known, a series 
 of preludes and fugues in all major and minor keys. 
 The term 'well-tempered' refers to Bach's method of 
 tuning the clavichord, which for the first time made 
 such an unbounded use of harmony possible. It will 
 be remembered that the first keyboards had only those 
 keys which are to-day white, sounding only the dia- 
 tonic tones of the modes. The first chromatic altera- 
 tion allowed in these modes was the B-flat, which was 
 practically forced upon musicians in order to avoid the 
 augmented interval between F and B natural, an in- 
 terval excruciating to their ears. So the black key 
 between A and B was the first to find its place on the 
 keyboard, and it was tuned in the relation of a per- 
 fect fourth with the F below. E-flat seems to have 
 been the next black key and was tuned in the relation 
 of a perfect fourth to the B-flat. The other black keys 
 were added one by one, nearly always in exact rela- 
 tion to some one of the white keys or the original dia- 
 
 * The clavichord was suitable only for the most intimate sort of 
 music. It differed from the harpsichord in 'that the tone of it was pro- 
 duced not by a plucking of the strings but by a pressure brought to bear 
 on them by little uprights attached to the key levers. The tone was very 
 slender but sweet and within its limitations capable of fine shading. A 
 varying pressure of the key produced that tremolo which on the violin is 
 called vibrato, and gave the tone a delicate warmth wholly lacking In the 
 clean-cut, frosty tone of the harpsichord — and, indeed, in the rich tone of 
 the pianoforte. 
 
 485 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 tonic notes of the modes, F sharp in that of a perfect 
 fifth with the B below, G sharp in that of a perfect 
 major third with E, C sharp in the same relation with 
 A. Inasmuch as all these intervals were mathemati- 
 cally exact — and such was the idea of tuning all 
 through the Middle Ages and nearly to the time of 
 Bach — the black keys were in perfect relation only 
 with one or more of the white keys, and often quite out 
 of relation with each other. The intervals between 
 them were very noticeably out of tune and false. 
 When, during the seventeenth century, our harmonic 
 system of transposing keys finally supplanted the old 
 modal system, composers for the harpsichord and the 
 organ still found themselves limited by their keyboards 
 to three sharp keys and two flat, so long as their in- 
 struments were perfectly tuned. 
 
 Acursoryglanceatsome of the old harpsichord music 
 shows that composers did not by any means submit to 
 such a restriction, and we must presume that, unless 
 they were willing to endure the sound of many hideous 
 imperfections, they developed in practice at any rate 
 some system of tuning which softened or tempered 
 them. Bach, therefore, is not the inventor of the first 
 tempered tuning, but it is doubtful if any composer 
 before him had worked out such a satisfactory system 
 as his which has been called equal temperament, and 
 which amounts practically to the division of the key- 
 board octave into twelve equal though slightly imper- 
 fect intervals. Only the octave remained strictly in 
 tune. The imperfections of the other intervals were 
 so slight, however, as to be hardly perceptible. Thus 
 the black keys of the keyboard came to represent two 
 notes, different in theory, the sharp of the note below 
 and the flat of the note above; and, by such a com- 
 promise, composers for the instrument were enabled 
 to modulate freely through all keys. Bach must be 
 acknowledged the first great musician to recognize the 
 
 486 
 
THE WELL-TEMPERED CLAVICHORD 
 
 inestimable value of such a liberation, in proof of 
 which he wrote the first series of the 'Well-tempered 
 Clavichord.' The fugues notably are enriched by the 
 most beautiful modulations, and in this regard the 
 collection may be said to be almost the foundation 
 upon which aU subsequent music has been built, and 
 to contain the seeds from which the most soaring har- 
 monies of Beethoven, Chopin and even Wagner have 
 sprung. Thus we are brought back by the 'Well-tem- 
 pered Clavichord' to the crowning glory of his genius, 
 his gift for harmony. Beethoven knew the 'Well- 
 tempered Clavichord.' He is said to have won his first 
 distinction as a pianist by his playing of those preludes 
 and fugues in Vienna. And Beethoven called Bach 
 the forefather of harmony. 
 
 Probably no collection of pieces has been so care- 
 fully studied and sounded again and again by genera- 
 tion after generation of composers and probably no 
 other set of pieces will ever prove so impervious to 
 every influence of time. It is like an eternal spring, 
 forever fresh, forever marvellous. Scarcely less won- 
 derful are the collections of two- and three-part In- 
 ventions. Both these and the preludes and fugues 
 were written as exercises — the one, in Bach's own 
 words, as 'an honest guide by which the lovers of the 
 clavier, but particularly those who desire to learn, 
 are shown a plain way not only to play neatly in two 
 parts, but also, in further progress, to play correctly 
 and well in three obbligato parts; and, at the same time, 
 not only to acquire good ideas, but also to work them 
 out themselves; and, finally, to acquire a cantabile 
 style of playing, and, at the same time, to gain a strong 
 predilection for, and foretaste of, composition'; the 
 other 'for the use and practice of young musicians who 
 desire to learn, as for those who are already skilled in 
 this study, for amusement.' There can be no better 
 testimony to Bach as a teacher than these short pref- 
 
 487 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 aces, written in his own fine hand, upon the title pages 
 of the two sets. For him, the greatest virtuoso of his 
 day, virtuosity was nothing, and he taught those about 
 him above all to seek to express only what was gen- 
 uine and fine in music. So he continues to teach the 
 world of musicians, though music has passed through 
 fire and tempest since he wrote these pieces all but 
 two hundred years ago in the castle at Cothen. Styles 
 have changed, forms have changed, instruments have 
 changed; the state, the world, are no longer the same; 
 yet in every state and to every corner of the world 
 where there are men and women who have devoted 
 their lives to music, there will Bach be found as the 
 touchstone of all that is good in the art. 
 
 This is in essence his position at the present day 
 in music, a position unique and special. He will al- 
 ways be the greatest of teachers. His music is pro- 
 foundly mystical and for this reason the secret of 
 its extraordinary vitality will perhaps never be re- 
 vealed; and it is nearly always intimate; in this most 
 different from Handel, his great contemporary, with 
 whom he will ever be compared, though the startling 
 contrasts between them lead no nearer to the compre- 
 hension or just estimate of either. Handel is out- 
 spoken. Bach suggestive; the one compels, the other 
 stimulates. 
 
 In conclusion we may once more draw attention 
 to some of the salient points in his genius. As a man 
 he had keen practical knowledge, yet he was impulsive 
 and ardent. He was unshakable in his convictions. 
 He was generous but not always peaceable. And he 
 was always quietly but profoundly thoughtful. Among 
 his friends were men of prominence, knowledge, and 
 
 488 
 
BACH'S RELATION TO MUSICAL HISTORY 
 
 high social rank. The circumstances of his life kept 
 him from the theatre, which was the goal of most com- 
 posers of his time, but, furthermore, his genius was not 
 of the dramatic kind nor his nature one to seek public 
 acclaim. He was, however, in the words of a con- 
 temporary, the prince of all players on the harpsichord 
 and the organ, and was so recognized over a large part 
 of Germany. 
 
 His unmatched technique in composition was ac- 
 quired by constant labor and a never-ending study of 
 all available music, both ItaUan and French, as well as 
 German, while he remained essentially a son of his 
 race. The works of Couperin were known to him, 
 those of Vivaldi and Corelli, of all the great German 
 organists and composers, save only Heinrich Schiitz, 
 of the old Italian masters, Palestrina, Lotti, and Cal- 
 dara. The forms of his day he mastered, both those 
 of ancient descent and those of more recent make; 
 and he invented no new forms. He was first and fore- 
 most an organist, the culmination of a long line of 
 German masters. His music for the organ rises higher 
 than that of any of his predecessors, largely because 
 of the logical harmonic foundation upon which he 
 built it. It has never since been equalled. To music 
 for other keyboard instr'uments, precursors of the 
 pianoforte, he brought a richness of harmony and of 
 feeling not to be found in such music before his day. 
 The polyphonic forms, especially the fugues, were 
 influenced by the organ style. Other forms, such as 
 the suites, suggest the influence of French writers. 
 The so-called English suites, the name of which has 
 given rise to much discussion, are the greatest suites 
 in existence. The suites for violin and 'cello alone are 
 unique. The polyphonic style in which many move- 
 ments of them are written is characteristic of German 
 violin music of the time; the conciseness of form, of 
 the Italian masters. All his vocal works show the in- 
 
 489 
 
A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC 
 
 fluence of the organ style, which was the most natural 
 and most familiar to him, but in these he has incor- 
 porated forms such as recitative and da capo aria di- 
 rectly from the contemporary Italian opera. Difficul- 
 ties and improprieties of text afifected the cantatas. 
 The Passions, especially that according to St. Mat- 
 thew, are flawless in structure. The perfection of the 
 latter is largely due to his supervision of and arrange- 
 ment of the plan and the text. The mass in B minor is 
 his most colossal work, seeming, however, a less natu- 
 ral expression of his genius than the Passion. Pre- 
 ludes, fugues, suites, concertos in the old style, the 
 church cantata and the musical setting of the Passion 
 he brought to their highest point. 
 
 After his death other forms occupied composers, 
 so that he has not served as a model. Also, the next 
 age was preeminently the age of the orchestra, the 
 modern orchestra with its peculiar problems, to the 
 settlement of which Bach contributed little or nothing. 
 The sonorous pianoforte persuaded composers from 
 the organ. The polj^honic style was abandoned or 
 was radically modiJBied. Thus the new era of Haydn, 
 Mozart, and Beethoven is seemingly completely sev- 
 ered from Bach, totally disconnected save for the links 
 of a revised system of fingering for keyboard instru- 
 ments and a satisfactory method of equal tempera- 
 ment. But the new age was the age of the supremacy 
 of harmony in music and the genius of Bach, often 
 concealed behind the polyphonic fabric of his greatest 
 works, is essentially harmonic. Chords, modulation, 
 chromaticism are the essence of his music. In all 
 his compositions they give the mysterious warmth. 
 They are the basis of his form, the power of his sug- 
 gestion. That he might be free to modulate at will he 
 so tuned his clavichord that all keys, both major and 
 minor, could mingle through it; and as initiative for 
 his students to the beauties of harmony unrestricted 
 
 490 
 
BACH'S RELATION TO MUSICAL HISTORY 
 
 he composed two series of preludes and fugues in every 
 key which to-day seem an epitome of musical expres- 
 sion. Written for students, they have taught every 
 great composer from Beethoven to Richard Strauss and 
 Claude Debussy. They open the way to his other and 
 to his bigger works, where the lover of music may so 
 lose himself in wonder and deepest joy that he will 
 say, as many have said, here is the beginning and the 
 end of music. 
 
 L. H. 
 
 491 
 
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