CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY MUSIC ML 446.M87 e " U " IVerS,,y Ubrary Coi ii«nfiliiN , «SL™ chni( )l lie in the sixteenth 3 1924 022 362 358 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022362358 CONTRAPUNTAL TECHNIQUE IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS AMEN HOUSE, E.C. 4 LONDON EDINBURGH GLASGOW LEIPZIG NEW YOKE TORONTO MELBOURNE CAPETOWN BOMBAY CALCUTTA MADRAS SHANOBAI HUMPHREY MILFOED PUBLISHER TO THE UNIVERSITY FIRST EDITION IO,22 REPRINTED 1934 CONTRAPUNTAL TECHNIQUE IN THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY BY R. O. MORRIS OXFORD AT THE CLARENDON PRESS PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD BY JOHN JOHNSON PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY TO PEECY CARTER BUCK IN ACKNOWLEDGEMENT OP A DEBT LONG OUTSTANDING PREFACE The general scope and purport of this volume is set forth in the opening chapter, and this preface need only concern itself with the textual procedure adopted. First, as to the texts themselves. Where a standard library- edition exists — as of Palestrina and Orlando Lasso — this text has of course been followed. The large collections of Proske, van Maldeghem, and Henry Expert are equally familiar to every student of the period, and from each of these I have drawn interest- ing examples that probably could not have been obtained from any other source. To widen the range of illustration, I have also had recourse to Pedrell's Hispaniae Scholae Musica Sacra, Haberl's Bepertorium Musicae Sacrae, and Barclay Squire's Ausgewahlte Madrigale. The editors of these respective volumes need no tribute of mine, for they are all scholars of international repute. But their editions are usually transposed, and for the purposes of this book I have thought it best to retranspose all quotations. In most of the collections named the editors distinguish acci- dentals, inserted by them to meet the requirements of musica ficta, from those actually written in by the composer, the former being enclosed in a bracket or placed in small print above the note. I have reproduced this distinction where possible — e.g. in the examples taken from Palestrina, Orlando Lasso, and the English composers. In other examples it was not always possible to do so, as the printed texts did not give the necessary indication, and it was manifestly impossible for me to scour the Continent in order to verify every individual sharp and flat in the manuscripts. The accidentals indicated are in every case (in my judgement) such as the composer intended, whether actually inserted by him or not. I have used only the Gr and F clefs throughout, with a double G- for the tenor, in order to facilitate perusal of the work by non- professional readers who may be interested in the subject. viii PEEFACE Regular barring has been adopted throughout, except where some special point was to be illustrated, as in Exx. 38, 39a, and 40a. The tendency of modern editors, I am aware, is all in the other direction, but I cannot agree. These compositions are metrical J — as definitely metrical as Babbi ben Ezra or Locksley Hall — and the metre should leap to the eye. Regular barring alone can ensure this, and for the true rhythm the reader must trust to his good ear and his good understanding. A fool-proof notation is neither possible nor desirable. Readers who cannot easily obtain access to the big library editions already mentioned may like to know of some comparatively cheap and popular editions of sixteenth-century music of which they may possess themselves : (1) Breitkopf & Hartel publish a large collection of masses and motets, edited by Haberl, Bauerle, and others. Also Barclay Squire's Ausgewahlte Madrigale, and Squire & Terry's edition of Byrd's Five-part Mass. These can usually be obtained from Messrs. J. & W. Chester (Department of Ecclesiastical Music). (2) There is the Collection Palestrina (Saint-Gervais), likewise obtainable from Messrs. J. & "W. Chester. (3) There is Dr. Fellowes's wonderful edition of the English Madrigal Composers, published by Stainer & Bell (nineteen volumes so far). (4) Novello's have done a good deal — Palestrina's Stabat Mater, and several of his Masses ; masses by Tye, Byrd, and Tallis (all of these have been published in the Octavo Edition, but they are not now all in print). They likewise publish an edition of Tallis's Lamentations (in the Cathedral Series, edited by Royle Shore). 1 To prevent possible misconception, let me warn the student against supposing that the measures of this music group themselves into regular periods just as the measures of the poetry group themselves into regular lines. That -would be wrong; all that is meant here by 'metrical' is that the harmonic accentuation within each measure is uniform and periodic, not varying unless there is a change of signature. The measures themselves are not grouped in any such regular con- formation. PREFACE ix (5) Mention should also be made of the Downside Motets and Masses (Cary & Co.) ; of Arion, vols, i and iii (Laudy & Co.) ; and of the popular edition of Tudor Church Music now in course of issue by the Oxford University Press. It must be understood that the above editions are not of equal merit; Bauerle, for instance, halves and even quarters his note values without telling the reader what he has done ; so do the editors of the Collection Palestrina. The Downside edition re- tains the original note-values, but halves the measures, and is full of lamentable misprints. But they can all be of service, if used intelligently and with caution. The Fellowes edition, of course, is admirable in every way. In conclusion, I should like to express my best thanks to Dr. Terry for the loan of his Taverner manuscript scores ; to Miss Townsend "Warner for the similar loan of manuscript scores by Tye, "Whyte, Shepherd, and other of their contemporaries ; above all, to Mr. A. H. Fox-Strangways for the unreserved generosity with which he placed the whole of his library at my disposal. E. 0. M. SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTERS PAGE I. THE POINT OF VIEW 1 Discrepancy between the Rules of Counterpoint as usually taught and the practice of the sixteenth-century composers — The latter the only authority worth considering — Object of studying, (1) historical, (2) practical — Rhythm the vital factor — Faulty method of instruction — Ineptitude of the Canto Fermo — Futility of the Five Orders — Reform suggested not as a challenge to authority but as a vindica- tion of it. II. THE MODAL SYSTEM 7 Definition of the term Mode — Plagal and Authentic forms — This dis- tinction of no real value from a polyphonic point of view — Trans- position of the Modes — Musica ficta, its meaning, scope, and practical obj ect — Rules for its application — Cadence, how formed — ' Phrygian ', ' Plagal ', and ' Interrupted ' Cadences — Modulation, its meaning in the sixteenth century • — Range of modulation permitted in each Mode. III. RHYTHM 17 The distinction between Metre and Rhythm as valid for music as for poetry — ' Stress ' accent and ' Quantity ' accent — Importance of the latter in music — Its function in determining the rhythmical structure of sixteenth-century music — Time-signatures of purely metrical signi- ficance, without influence on Rhythm — Freedom and Balance the ideal aimed at — Prevalence of cross-rhythms — Explanation of the time-signatures in use at this period — The Proportional System. IV. MELODY 28 Compass, rules governing — Intervals — Conjunct movement an im- portant factor — The melodic technique of Palestrina — Two or more leaps, when permissible — Tied notes — General hints to guide the student — Regular barring recommended, if not misunderstood. V. HARMONY 33 Music a progression from concord to concord — Discord originally a device for obtaining rhythmic variety — Number of harmonic changes permissible in a bar — Variety of colour-effect obtainable with limited means — Points to be considered in detail — The interval of the fourth, how far a concord — Chord of the six-four — Passing notes — Double passing notes in thirds and sixths — Two-part analysis the ultimate test of harmonic propriety — Accented passing notes, how SYNOPSIS OF CHAPTEES xi PAGE used — Changing notes ; rules for their employment — Suspensions, rules for preparation and resolution of — Ornamental resolutions — Double and triple suspensions — Forbidden consecutives — Why for- bidden ? — The text-books and the composers at variance as usual — What rules are really observed by the latter — Chromatic harmony rare in sacred music of the period — Modal Harmony, so-called, a meaningless term. VI. CANON, FUGUE, AND DOUBLE COUNTERPOINT . 45 Fugue properly speaking a ' method ' rather than a ' form ' in this period — No fixed rules for its continuation, once the exposition is complete — the Subject — the Answer — elasticity of their relationship — Two-part subjects not uncommon, the two parts being usually in Double Counterpoint — Varieties of Double Counterpoint most commonly met with in the sixteenth century — Melodic Inversion — Canon,- definition of — stricter than Fugue — Sparingly used in the later sixteenth century — Its abuse by the previous generation. VII. DESIGN 53 The Motet — Derivation of the term — Textual analysis the foundation of the structure — ' Fugal ', ' Harmonic ', and ' Intermediate ' types of Motet — A specimen of each analysed — The Mass — Its main divisions — Variety in length of — Contrasts of texture to be found — Modal and thematic unity of — The modern ' Cyclic ' symphony anticipated by Taverner and Palestrina — The Madrigal — Not properly speaking a 'form' in music — The secular equivalent of the Motet — Similar to it in general outline, though differing in many details of style and idiom — Chromatic freedom — Its prevalence relative rather than absolute. VIII. SOME TECHNICAL FEATURES OF THE ENGLISH SCHOOL 64 The value of technical analysis as an aid to real comprehension — The English writers scalic rather than modal — Boldness of curve their melodic ideal — Their harmonic freedom — Experiments in formation of cadence and resolution of discord — Their fondness for harsh effects — False relationships a speciality — Rhythm the crowning glory of the English technique — No detailed critique hitherto possible — Diligence of modern English research — Its value as the foundation for a true critical estimate of our national achievement. INDEX OF ILLUSTRATIONS Aichinger, 135, 153. Bertani, 45. Brumel, 54, 95. Bugsworthy, 62, 63. Byrd, 43, 57-59, 75, 76, 90, 93, 94, 106, 124, 128, 185, 186, 204-206, 214, 221-223, 226, 229, 230, 239, 241, 245, 247, 250-254, 256, 257, 259. Croce, 18. de la Rue, 108. de Wert, 160. Farmer, 96. Gabrieli, A., 143, 152. Gesualdo, 196-198. Gibbons, 219, 220, 225, 240. Guerrero, 116. Hassler, 165. Lasso, Orlando, 15, 16, 29, 42, 88, 145, 155, 159, 163, 199-201. Marenzio, 132, 158, 161, 162, 172-176, 178, 179. Morales, 41, 99, 100. Morley, 44, 46, 47, 260, 261. Palestrina, 17, 19-25, 32-34, 36-40, 51-53, 55, 56, 64-66, 69, 70, 72-74, 77-81, 86, 87, 89, 91, 92, 97, 98, 101, 103-105, 107, 117-123, 125-127, 129-131, 133, 134, 144, 146-148, 154, 157, 168-171, 180-184, 192-195, 249. Pevernage, 48, 49. Soriano, 164. Sweelinck, 177. Tallis, 167, 237, 238, 243, 244, 255. Taverner, 211-213, 246, 248. Tye, 208, 217, 21"8, 232, 233, 242. Vecchi, O., 136. Vittoria, 30, 31, 35, 68, 149, 150, 151, 156, 166. Weelkes, 258. Whyte, 209, 210, 216, 231, 234. Wilbye, 60, 202, 203, 215, 224, 227, 228. THE POINT OF VIEW 'Since the death of these Great Masters ', observes Mr. Eockstro, 1 'it [counterpoint] has undergone no change whatever. No new rules have been, or possibly can be, added to it. It must be taught now — if taught at all — exactly as it was taught in the latter half of the sixteenth century. Our little Treatise, therefore, contains no novelty whatever. The rules it prescribes are those, and those only, to which Palestrina, Vittoria, Luca Marenzio, and the greatest of their contemporaries, yielded their loving obedience.' A few pages later we come upon the following passage : 'It was the author's original intention to have illustrated the present Treatise entirely with examples selected from the works of the Great Masters . . . But, the difficulty of finding passages exactly adapted to illustrate the precise ' Rule falling under dis- cussion was so great, that this plan was unavoidably, though very reluctantly, subjected to considerable modification. Abundant quotations have indeed been made from the works of Fux and other famous contrapuntists : but in order to explain his meaning with sufficient clearness to meet the demands of those who are entering upon the study of counterpoint for the first time, the author has found it necessary to write a large number of additional examples, which are distinguished by the sign [given] from those of higher authority.' At this point, it will be noticed, the logical processes of Mr. Eock- stro appear to have suffered an interruption. The 'Eules' he prescribes are those, and those only, to which Palestrina, Vittoria & Co. ' yielded their loving obedience '. These rules, therefore, will naturally be illustrated in every bar that these great com- posers wrote. Yet, when it comes to the point, we find that Mr. Rockstro has confessedly been unable to find any such illustra- tions. He has had to write most of them himself; almost the only passage he quotes from a sixteenth-century composer is one from Byrd's Asjpice, Domine, and on this passage the only comment he finds to make is that ' Byrd has ignored the last clause of Rule LXI at Bars 2, 9, and 17 '. Naturally, we feel deeply ashamed that one of our own countrymen should be detected in such licentious 1 The Rules of Counterpoint, Introduction, p. 5. 2148 B 2 THE POINT OF VIEW behaviour, and we hasten to inquire what the provisions of Eule LXI may be. It is worded as follows : ' . . . A minim placed at the end of a bar, after two crotchets, or a crotchet and two quavers, should always, if possible, be tied to another minim or crotchet, in the beginning of the next bar.' Passing over the fact that Mr. Eockstro, in his example, has care- fully cut Byrd's measures into two, we may remark that exceptions to this rule are somewhat frequent. They are to be found even in Palestrina. In the Mass ' Admirabile Commercium ', for instance, there are fifty-seven of them ; at one point — in the Sanctus— nine of them succeed one another with ostentatious rapidity in the space of some twenty measures. And if these things are done in the green tree, what shall be done in the dry ? If this is what we find in the blameless Palestrina, what are we to expect from th« nefarious Byrd? However, there is no need to insist unduly on this particular rule, for which, as a matter of fact, quite a fair case (though no more) can be made out. It is nevertheless an instance, rather an obvious instance, to show that the ' loving obedience ' of which Mr. Eockstro speaks is not always so readily forthcoming as one might have expected. Other rules are even less fortunate, and the impartial observer, who goes all through the list in a spirit of dispassionate inquiry, will begin to understand only too well his perpetual difficulty in finding passages ' exactly adapted to illustrate the precise rule falling under discussion '. Yet the rules of Mr. Eockstro are not peculiar. They are, more or less, the same as those to be found in almost every text-book of counterpoint. Who invented them, goodness only knows; why they have been perpetuated, it passes the wit of man to explain. Music written to meet their requirements is something altogether sui generis, a purely academic by-product, Music that never was on sea or land. What then are we going .to do? The rules of counterpoint are found to have no connexion with musical composition as practised in the sixteenth century : are we to abandon the rules, or abandon the sixteenth century? Follow Byrd and Palestrina, or follow Mr. Eockstro and Professor Prout ? The present volume is the writer's answer to this question, so far as it concerns himself. It is, in the main, an exposition of sixteenth- century technique, and, as such, it assumes that that technique is deserving of study. No student worthy the name, however, will be content with assumptions. He will demand reasons. Before devoting his time to counterpoint, he is entitled to ask whether it THE POINT OF VIEW 3 is likely to prove a profitable study, and what he stands to gain from it. In the first place, there is the purely historical aspect of the question. Every serious musician should have some knowledge of the history of his art, and of the manner in which his materia musica has been accumulated. The sixteenth century is beyond all question one of the great periods of music, and its technique is quite unlike the technique of any succeeding period ; it is certainly deserving of study for its own sake, and from no other motive than that of intellectual curiosity. It may be said that to understand and appreciate a particular style it is not necessary to practise it. That is true enough, but it is also true that by actual practice you acquire an inside knowledge that you get in no other way. A student of painting does not regret the time he spends in copying models by Eembrandt or Van Dyck or other great masters of the past, for the insight he thus obtains into their technical aims and methods helps him to appreciate their genius and develop a sense of style, even though his own bent as a painter may lie in quite other directions. Similarly a musician should not hesitate to spend a few months in mastering the idiom of the great sixteenth-century composers, for in doing so he will enlarge his mental horizon, acquire some sense of scholarship, and realize more fully the con- tinuity of musical progress. But, for the composer at any rate, the study of the sixteenth century has a very real practical as well as a historical interest. Above all, the lesson it has to teach him is that of rhythmical ^freedom and subtlety. For three hundred years or so we have been slaves of the bar line, and our conception of rhythm has become purely metrical. We learn, probably, to distinguish between ' secon- dary' rhythm, which places a strong accent at the beginning of each bar and admits a certain variety of figure in between those accents, and ' primary ' rhythm which measures out the bars them- selves into neat regular groups, usually of two, four, and eight. Having got so far, we stop. Of the wider implications of the term 'rhythm' and of its true nature, we have suffered ourselves to remain in complacent ignorance. Now, at long last, composers are beginning to tire of this monotonous, mechanical sing-song, and to seek a way of escape from it. To the sixteenth century they can turn, not in vain, for guidance. In that period there is no con- fusion between rhythm and metre. The rhythmical accentuation of each part is free, but, independently of the actual rhythmic accents, there is an imaginary metrical accentuation which imposes a regular alternation of strong and weak beats to which the b 2 4 THE POINT OF VIEW harmony of the composition has to conform, although the melody of each voice pursues its own way untrammelled. As soon as a student begins the study of sixteenth-century music, this is the first fact to force itself on his notice ; he finds out that in order to write in the idiom of Morley or Orlando Lasso or Vittoria, he has to slough all his old preconceptions, and ask himself, perhaps for the first time, what rhythm really is. This, as was said, is by far the most valuable lesson a composer has to learn, at the moment, from a study of this period. One might add, too, that it is possible to search diligently through all the text-books \ English and foreign, of the last three hundred years, and never find so much as a hint of it, to put the student on the right track. It is for this reason, and in no spirit of iconoelasm, that the present writer has found himself compelled to reject in toto the traditional methods of instruction, and to indicate an entirely new and, as it seems to him, a more hopeful line of approach. The starting-point has been the conviction that counterpoint, if taught at all, must be taught, as Mr. Eockstro says, exactly as it was taught in the sixteenth century. Hitherto it has not been so taught ; even Dr. Kitson (the only authority to betray any real uneasiness) gets no further than to say ' scholastic counterpoint is the adaptation of the principles of Palestrina to modern conditions '. In the process of adaptation, unfortunately, the rhythmic principle — the only principle that really matters — has somehow disappeared; and in any case, is the nineteenth century any less obsolete than the sixteenth ? Is it not better to approach the sixteenth century in a spirit of humility, to take it just as we find it, in order to make certain that we know what its principles really were, before we begin to try and adapt them ? It will also be of advantage to the composer to acquire some in- sight into the workings of the old Modal system. On all sides to-day is heard an outcry against the shackles of the major and minor scale ; on all sides we see an inclination to re-examine the problem of musical form, and to reject the view which holds it to be, mainly, the passing from one clearly defined tonality into other related tonalities, and back again. We no longer imagine ' develop- ment ' to consist in saying in Gb what you have already said in Bb, and many composers, both by precept and example, betray their belief that tonality, in its present form, is a convention that has outlived its utility. In the sixteenth century the student will see 1 M. Vincent d'Indy's Cours de composition musicale is the sole honourable exception of those I have met. Neither Bellermann nor Padre Martini offers any guidance on this point. THE POINT OF VIEW 5 the working of rather a different system ; and though he will find here that the system is more closely allied to our own than is usually admitted, there are certain features of it which he cannot fail to find suggestive. Here again, however, the text-books fail him, for most of them carefully evade the question. Mr. Eockstro is an exception, but once more his disingenuousness — or shall we call it his excessive ingenuousness ? — is too apparent. Eule CXXXV, ' No accidental of any kind must be introduced into any part of the exercise but the Final Cadence ; with the exception of an occasional Bb to correct the Tritonus or the False Fifth . . . but even this can scarcely be tolerated, except in Modes I, II, V, and VI '. Let the student now turn to the opening chords of Palestrina's Stdbat Mater (quoted in Ex. 39) or of Bone Jesu (Ex. 194) and ask himself how he is to account for them. It is the old story ; either he must scrap Mr. Eockstro or he must scrap Palestrina. One singles out Mr. Eockstro with reluctance, for he was a pioneer in the field, and his articles in /Grove's Dictionary contain much that is of real value. It is for this very reason that his Rules of Counterpoint cannot be passed over in silence, like similar works by lesser authorities. What in another is probably ignorance, in him is sheer dishonesty. A reform that is needed will inevitably encounter opposition, and it is most foolish to assume that such opposition is necessarily blind, perverse, or malicious. There are many teachers of wisdom and experience to whom this book will not commend itself at first sight. We grant you, they may say, that the rules of counterpoint need revision, that in many details they bear no relation to the practice of the great Polyphonic School of composition, but why cannot they be simply amended where necessary? Why must you challenge the entire system? Why cannot you leave us our Canto Fermo and our Five Species ? The answer is, first, that the Canto Fermo (in the sense in which the text-books take it) was, even in those days, an obsolete survival. When a sixteenth-century composer set to work to compose on a Canto Fermo, he did not spread it out in front of him in a row of stolid, unappetizing semibreves. He broke it up into fragments, and treated them thematically with all the rhythmic ingenuity he could devise. If he used the text-book type of Canto Fermo at all, as he did occasionally (see p. 9, note 1), he did so as a deliberate archaism. To set such things before the student as the normal, and indeed the only possible, method of writing counterpoint, is to paralyse his melodic invention at the outset, and also to give him an utterly false idea of musical history. As for the Five Species, 6 THE POINT OF VIEW it needs a more skilful advocate than the present writer to find any plausible defence for them. They do untold harm by professing to teach the student variety of rhythm, whereas all they really admit is a certain limited variety of rhythmic figure fitted in between regularly recurring metrical accents. They perpetuate the tyranny of the bar line, and do more than anything else to cause that con- fusion between metre and rhythm from which it is the special mission of counterpoint (rightly understood) to deliver us. Apart from this, all the student can possibly learn from them is the method of employing passing notes, and preparing and resolving the simplest forms of discord, all of which he has already learnt— or should have learnt— from his elementary lessons in harmony. Of course, if counterpoint is frankly taught on this basis ; if the teacher says openly to his pupil, ' What we call counterpoint is only elementary harmony. You have already been through it, but we think it is rather fun to put you through it again, and call it by a longer name' — there is candour, at least, in such an attitude. But the pupil's r,eply is inevitable: 'It may be fun for you. But what do I gain by it ? ' It must not be thought that the method of instruction implied in the sequence of chapters in this volume involves or permits any relaxation of discipline. The student who embarks on it in any such belief will be rudely disappointed. He will find that where he was formerly chastised with whips, he is now chastised with scorpions. It is much easier to write like Cherubini than to write like Byrd ; it requires far less exertion to produce a ream of scholastic counterpoint than a single page in the vein of Mr. Thomas Morley. These remarks are not intended for a moment to discourage the learner. They are just a kindly warning, that he may not suspect us of any amiable desire to cast authority to the winds. From arbitrary rules, claiming a sanctity to which they have no right, he is entitled to be free, but there are plenty of genuine rules ready to take their place. And if he is wise, he will not be content to know, in theory, that their ultimate sanction rests in the practice of Tallis and Byrd, of Lasso and Palestrina. He will begin by frequenting the precincts of Westminster Cathedral, or any other place where this music is habitually sung. He will then have a knowledge of counterpoint which no book can impart, for he will have begun to realize its beauty. II THE MODAL SYSTEM I. Every student knows that if you take the diatonic series of notes represented by the white keys of the pianoforte, the sequence of notes lying between C and c (or any of their octaves) constitutes what we call the major scale. It may not have occurred to him that it is possible to start also on any other notes of the series, and that the notes from E to e say, or G to g, will give other scales, similar to the major scale, and yet differing from it, and from each other ; similar, in that they all consist of five tones and two semi- tones ; differing, in that the order of the tones and semitones varies with each respective scale. In the scale, for instance, the order is TTSTTTS ; in the E scale it is STTTSTT. You are working on the same diatonic series, but by selecting another note as your starting and finishing point, you envisage a new aspect or ' mode ' of that series. How many such modes can you have? Clearly, seven, for after the seventh, whether ascending or descending, you reach the octave, and your next series would be merely a repetition of the first. The modal system, however, recognized a further set of distinctions, based not on the order of the tones and semitones, but on the compass of the melody. If a melody in any given mode lay between the final of that mode and its octave, the mode was said to be in its Authentic form ; if it lay between the dominant of the mode and its octave, it was said to be in its Plagal form. (Plagal and Authentic melodies alike, of course, had to end on the final of the mode: e.g. the compass of the Dorian [Authentic] mode, D— d, is the same as that of the Hypomixolydian [Plagal] mode; but. the last note of a Dorian melody must be D, whereas that of a Hypo- mixolydian must be G.) There were thus in all fourteen theoretically possible modes, seven Authentic, and seven Plagal. Ex. 1 will show exactly what they were, what names were given to them, 1 and which notes 1 These names were borrowed from the modal system of the ancient Greeks, but it must not be imagined that the Greek system and the ecclesiastical system were identical. To enter into the difference here would merely befog the student, who would be well advised not to trouble his head about Greek music, unless he intends to make it a special branch of study. 8 THE MODAL SYSTEM served as the dominant and mediant respectively in each mode. For the time being, the student should notice : 1. That the eleventh and twelfth modes are purely theoretical, the imperfection of the fifth and the redundancy of the fourth (B-F, F-B) making the series quite unusable, both in Plagal and Authentic forms. 2. That the dominant of the third mode is C, not B, although the compass of the corresponding Plagal mode is B-b. The reason is that although B was the original dominant of the mode (as you would expect, the dominant being nor- mally a fourth below the final), was eventually substituted for it. It was found, probably, that B, being a constituent of the forbidden tritone F-B, was not fitted to serve as the most prominent note (after the final) of the mode. 3. That (possibly for the same reason) the mediant of the seventh mode (and the dominant of the eighth) is C and not B. The mediant of an Authentic mode always serves as the dominant of the corresponding Plagal mode, except that in the fourth mode the dominant is A and not Gr. The distinction between Authentic and Plagal can easily be illustrated from English folk-song. ' Bold Young Farmer ', for in- stance, is Authentic (Mixolydian) ; ' Trees they do grow high ' is Plagal (Hypodorian). It should be here stated that this theory of fourteen possible and twelve actual modes did not pass unchallenged. It was first formulated by Glareanus in a work entitled Dodecachordon, and published in 1547. Earlier theory recognized eight modes only, i. e. the series starting on D, E, F, and G respectively, with their corresponding Plagal forms; and conservative writers still pre- ferred, even in much later times, to adhere to the old ecclesiastical tradition of eight modes. When we have seen the modifications which, in practice, crept into the modal system, we shall see that the difference is one of doctrine rather than of reality. These modifications we must now consider. II. First of all, it may already have occurred to the student that the distinction between Authentic and Plagal, valid enough from a purely melodic point of view, must necessarily be difficult, if not impossible, to maintain in polyphonic composition for mixed voices. The natural compass of a bass, for instance, as compared with that of a tenor, is about a fifth below ; similarly with the relationship of alto to tenor, and of treble to alto. Therefore, if you are writing in a mode whose Authentic compass suits a tenor voice, it will be the corresponding Plagal compass that will lie most naturally for the THE MODAL SYSTEM 9 bass, and so on. And if yon turn to the composition of the period to see what happens, you find this is actually the case : in four-part composition for mixed voices, two parts keep generally to the Authentic compass, two to the Plagal. If the tenor and treble are Authentic, the alto and the bass will be Plagal, and vice versa. How then, it may well be asked, can you speak of a composition as being in any given mode when, if half of it is in one mode, the other half is admittedly in another? The answer is that such descriptions are purely conventional, and > the convention governing them is that the compass of the tenor part is the determining factor. If that is Authentic, the whole composition is considered as Authentic : if Plagal, as PlagaL This convention is, of course, a survival from earlier times, when all composition was based on a plain-song melody sung by the tenor, the other parts singing round it mfaax-bourdon or some other form of discant. By the sixteenth century, however, this strict writing on a Canto Fermo had been superseded by other methods ; x a com- poser was free to invent his own themes if he wished, and if he used a plain-song melody (as he still very frequently did), he would employ it, as a rule, thematically, i.e. break it up into its com- ponent phrases, and devise rhythmical variants of these for fugal treatment (see Chap. Vll). But the tenor continued to dictate the name of the mode to the whole composition; quite irrationally, for the tenor did not necessarily end on the final of the mode, which can only be determined for certain by looking at the last note of the bass. It is the bass which gives you the final of the mode in which a composition is written; the tenor which decides as to whether the form of that mode is to be considered as Authentic or as PlagaL III. While we are touching this point, it may be as well to mention also that all the modes could be taken in a transposed position a fifth below their normal range, with a Bb in the signature to indicate such transposition. 2 In this case, of course, the final note of the bass must be restored to its untransposed position in order to declare the mode. If the bass ends, for instance, on Gr, and there is a Bb in the signature, the true final is D, and the com- 1 It was still employed occasionally, however, much as composers to-day still write every now and again upon a ground bass. Instances of the use of a strict Omnia Fermo in semibreves can be found in Byrd's GmKmus Saerae (1589 series, Kos. 18 and 19) ; in Orlando Lasso's Sixth Penitential Psalm ; in Aichinger's Antipkonae super Psalmos, and else- where. In all of these, though, the Ctatio Fermo is given impartially to other voices besides the tenor. 1 But the accidental Ab must not be employed in the transposed form of a mode although Bb can be used freely in the untransposed form. 10 THE MODAL SYSTEM position is either in the Dorian or the Hypodorian mode, trans- posed. Any other form of transposition in the ecclesiastical music of the period is extremely rare, though in secular music, as we shall see, there was less orthodoxy. Modern editors, however, transpose these old works freely to whatever pitch they think best adapted to the needs of a modern choir. There is no theoretical difficulty about this whatsoever; by putting, for instance, five flats in your signature, you can get the Dorian series (starting on Eb), the Phrygian (starting on F), the Lydian (starting on Gb), and so on; similarly with any other number, either of sharps or flats, in the signature. The differentiation between one mode and another depends not on any absolute difference of pitch, but on the relative disposition of the tonic and semitonic intervals. No doubt the singers of the sixteenth century could have sung their melodies at any pitch, for they were taught by the sol-fa methods; 1 but as a matter of notation, only the one form of transposition was in use, indicated, as was said, by a single flat in the signature (Bb, transposing everything a fifth down or a fourth up, as the case might be). IV. The next modifications to be discussed are those permitted, or rather, necessitated, by the laws of what is known as Musica Ficta. To learn what this means, we can do no better than take the definition given us by the author of the treatise Ars contra- puncti : z ' Music is called Ficta when we make a tone to be a semi- tone, and conversely a semitone to be a tone. For every tone is divisible into two semitones, and consequently the semitonic signs can appear between all tones.' In other words, Musica Ficta means, as we should say, chromatic alteration. It was called ' Ficta ' because for a long time such alterations did not appear in the written music. Ecclesiastical tradition required that, in appearance at least, the diatonic integrity of the modes should be respected, and the chromatic alterations were left to the discretion of the singers, who were expected to introduce them in performance, in accordance with certain more or less clearly understood rules. It must here be frankly stated that there is, and always will be, a certain difference of opinion as to the exact interpretation of these rules. The earlier theoretical writers do not always express them- selves clearly on the subject, and one cannot turn to the actual compositions for enlightenment, for the simple reason that (as above stated) the alterations were not at first permitted 3 to appear in the 1 Ancestor of our own Tonic Sol-fa. See Oxford Bistory of Music, vol. ii, pp. 72181. 2 Coussemaker, Scriptores, iii, 23. Quoted by Wooldridge, op. cit. 8 And long after this prejudice had disappeared, the custom itself remained. THE MODAL SYSTEM 11 music. There is evidence that the scope of Musica Ficta varied at different periods and (probably) in different localities ; with highly trained singers it became doubtless a matter of instinct rather than a mechanical application of definite formulae. To investigate such a matter in detail is the task of the historian. It is beyond the scope of this treatise, and the following rules must be taken for general guidance only. The subject does not admit of dogmatic ruling; at the same time, the student who observes these rules cannot go very far astray, and he had much better adhere to them rigorously until he is experienced enough to use his own discretion. 1. The tritone and its correlative, the diminished fifth, are for- bidden intervals, both in melody and harmony. It was the necessity for correcting these intervals that first gave rise to Musica Ficta, Bb always being sung instead of Bt] where necessary for this purpose. 2. It was soon recognized that this purpose could as well be effected by sharpening the F as by flattening the B. 3. The convenience of being able to alter the remaining intervals of the scale (D-E, G--A, C-D) in a similar manner could not be overlooked, and the chromatic notes necessary for this purpose, Eb, Gfl, Cfl, also, came into general use. 4. These five chromatic notes, Bb, Eb, Ffl, Cfl, Gfl, are the only chromatic notes permitted in the strict modal system of the sixteenth century. They are not to be taken as the enhar- monic equivalents of Afl, Dfl, Gb, Db, and Ab. These latter made their appearance tentatively in some of the earlier secular music, but they are not used with any freedom until the close of the period, by which time the madrigal writers had virtually ceased to pay even a nominal respect to modal propriety. 5. The most important use of chromatic alteration, apart from the perfecting of the tritone, is in the formation of the cadence. This is explained and illustrated in the next section of this chapter. 6. Where a melody rises or falls by a tone, and then falls or rises by the same interval, the tendency is to reduce the tone to a semitone by chromatic alteration when possible. E. g. the progression A G A would often be sung A Gfl A, A B A as A Bb A (but never, e. g., B Afl B or C Db 0, because Afl and Chromatic alteration was largely taken for granted throughout the Polyphonic period, the accidentals inserted in the music being, as a rule, only those which the singers could not be trusted to introduce at their own discretion. 12 THE MODAL SYSTEM Db, as already explained, do not yet exist). But it must be emphasized that this is only a tendency ; its indiscriminate application as a rule would have disastrous results. The student, when he has occasion to use such progressions in his own writing, should consider each case on its own merits. The beauty of the opening phrase of Veni, Sponsa Christi, for instance (see Ex. 192), would be utterly ruined if the E were sung as Eb. On the other hand, in the cadence from Sacerdotes Domini (Ex. 24^) it is precisely the logical application of this rule, causing the Ffi of the alto to be answered by the Ffl of the treble, that gives the cadence its extraordinary fascination. V. "We must now consider the type of cadence used in the modal writing of the sixteenth century. ' Cadence ' in its derivative sense, of course, means simply 'fall', and the cadence of a plain-song melody was formed, as a rule, by descending, or ' falling ' one degree to its final. It is in this sense that Shakespeare says : That strain again, it had a dying fall. One of the first problems harmony had to solve was the accom- paniment of this melodic procedure by the other voice or voices. After various experiments it was found that the most natural and satisfying method in two-part writing was for the accompanying voice to ascend to the final by a semitone. This could be done either above or below ; in the former case, the final chord would be that of the octave, the penultimate that of the major sixth ; in the latter, the final chord would be the unison, the penultimate that of the minor third (Exx. 2 and 3 illustrate this in its simplest form). In three-part writing, it was found that while the two upper parts were engaged in the manner just described the best thing the bass 1 could do was to ascend to the final by a fourth or drop to it by a fifth (Exx. 4 and 5). If the cadence itself was in the bass, one of the upper parts rose by a semitone to the octave, the other either rose by a tone to the fifth or fell by a semitone to the third (Exx. 6 and 7). In writing for four or more parts, the cadence is simply a variety of one of these forms, with one or more notes doubled (Exx. 8 to 14). Thanks to the aid of Musica Ficta, as described in the last section, these cadences can be formed on any degree of any mode, except E and B. Before explaining the treatment of these degrees, one or two further remarks must be added about the normal cadence. 1 By ' baas ' is meant here the lowest of the parts employed at the moment. The ' acting bass ', so to speak. THE MODAL SYSTEM 13 (a) It will be noticed in the above examples the final chord is not invariably, as we should say, complete. Even in four-part writing the sixteenth-century masters often preferred to omit the third from their final chord. (6) When the third is present in the final chord, it is usually made major by the help of Musica Ficta, no matter on what degree of the mode it occurs. In the final cadence this is invariably the case, and so also in any important cadence that marks the end of a clearly-defined musical section. Elsewhere it is at the option of the writer to sharpen the third if it is naturally minor, but not to flatten it if it is naturally major. (c) The examples of cadence already given show the harmonic skeleton in its simplest form. In practice, cadence is usually treated ' in binding manner' ; i.e. single or double suspensions are introduced, whose resolutions may be plain or (within certain clearly defined limits) ornamental. The treatment of suspended discords is explained in Chapter Y, but meantime a glance at Exx. 15 to 23 will give the student some idea of the preparation and formation of cadence in the composition of the period. (d) In composition for three or more parts, when the bass proceeds to the final by the rise of a fourth or fall of a fifth, the tenor, instead of falling a tone to the final, may rise a tone to the third. In the cadence at the end of a composition (or one of the main sections of the Mass), the tenor almost always does one of these two things (except in a Plagal cadence which will be con- sidered later). But in an intermediate cadence the spacing of the parts may be quite different. Exx. 24 and 25 will make this plainer than any verbal explanation could do. The student will already have realized that this uniformity of cadential treatment, together with the other alterations permitted by Musica Ficta, tends to obliterate very largely the distinction between one mode and another. This is the second of the impor- tant modifications mentioned on page 8. First the distinction between Authentic and Plagal went by the board, so that our twelve possible modes (the B modes being impossible in any case) are reduced to six. Secondly, by the constant substitution of Bt» for B, the Dorian and Lydian modes became virtually transposed forms of the Aeolian and Ionian respectively, so that really we have only four modes instead of six. Moreover, the Mixolydian (G) mode, thanks to the sharpening of the F at the cadence, lost a good deal of its personality, and tended to merge into the Ionian, though its capitulation was not so abject as that of the Lydian, whose Bb actually appeared in the signature. 14 THE MODAL SYSTEM Theory was thus quite justified in recognizing eight modes only (i. e. four Authentic modes, with their corresponding Plagal forms). It was illogical, however, to admit the Dorian and Lydian modes, and to exclude the Aeolian and Ionian. In reality it was the two former modes that were absorbed into the latter, and not vice versa. The E mode (the Phrygian) remained distinct from the others, because it did not admit of a perfect cadence, as the note Dfl did not exist. The Phrygian cadence was formed by the bass, or lowest part, descending to the final by a semitone, whilst the upper part ascended by a tone to the octave above. In three-part writing, the motion of the additional part was from A to Gfl, the chordal pro- gression being thus F A D— E Gfl E. In four-part writing and upwards, the A or the D (or both) could be doubled in the penulti- mate chord, and the final chord completed by the addition of the B (Exx. 26 to 31). But as this cadence is in itself of a somewhat inconclusive character, it was often reinforced at the end of a com- position by a Plagal cadence (i.e. one in which the final chord is preceded by the chord on the fifth below the final ; in this case on A. If the student likes for convenience to think of this as a sub- dominant progression, well and good ; but he must remember that this is modern terminology, and that, as a matter of fact, A is the Dominant of the Hypophrygian mode). Very often the Plagal cadence alone is used, especially in Palestrina, who employs the true ' Phrygian ' cadence very sparingly. The ' Phrygian ' cadence, however, is often used as an intermediate cadence for the sake of variety in compositions that are not in the Phrygian mode ; it can be formed in this way on D and A as well as on E. The Plagal cadence may also be used freely in all the other modes as well as the Phrygian (Exx. 32 to 34). It is in itself less directly conclusive in character than the perfect cadence, and to use it effectively both care and judgement are required. Until the student is certain of his ability to handle it properly, he may be wise to prepare the way for it by a full close, following this up with a Plagal cadence as reinforcement (as illustrated by Ex. 35 from a motet by Vittoria, who has a special fondness for this device). The ' interrupted ' cadence is used as freely in the music of the sixteenth century as in music of the harmonic period. No recipe can be given for its employment ; it is a matter of musical instinct. Two points, however, are worth mentioning : 1. It is particularly effective in fugal writing, when the ' inter- ruption ' is caused by the thematic progression of the bass (Ex. 36). THE MODAL SYSTEM 15 2. In the music of this period, the progression instead of being upwards from dominant to 'submediant' is often down- wards to ' subdominant ', both words being used in their modern sense (Ex. 37). It remains to explain what is meant by ' modulation ' at this period, and what range of modulation is permitted in each given mode. Modulation means, in a word, cadence. When you hear, for instance, of a ' modulation to Gr ' occurring in a composition in the Phrygian mode, it does not mean that the harmonic centre of gravity has shifted from the tonality of E to that of GK Such con- ceptions are quite foreign to the writers of the sixteenth century ; what is meant is simply that a cadence has been formed (in one of the ways above described) on the note Gr, in a position where its cadential character is unmistakably felt. The usual tables of ' regular and conceded modulations ' commonly given, refer only to plain-song ; in polyphonic music the range of modulation permitted in each mode is, in practice, rather more restricted. The following list has been arrived at empirically by the present writer; no separate list is given for the Plagal modes, as it is extremely doubtful whether, from the point of view of modulation, any abso- lute distinction between the Plagal and Authentic forms can be established. 1 DAP, and more sparingly, Gr, 0. )) )! » ^> -'"'• J) )> )3 J-*' „ „ „ A&P. » » » ■L'j "• D F It must be observed that Padre Martini (a very great authority) forbids modulation on the second and seventh degrees of any mode as being ' troppo irregulare ' and ' alienissima dal Tuono ' (Saggia di Contrapwnto, parte prima, p. 26, note). This rule is so frequently infringed that it cannot be taken as absolute. See, for instance, the reiterated close on D at the words ' et propter nostram salutem descendit de coelis' in the Credo of Palestrina's Missa Papae Marcelli, which is in the mode. In the same composer's hymn, 1 Mr. Wooldridge' s table (given in the Oxford History, vol. ii, pp. 200, 201) suggests that he had come to a similar conclusion, although his list does not agree in every detail with that here given. But in a series of articles by the same writer which appeared in the Musical Antiquary in 1912-13, the Plagal and Authentic modulations are not always given as identical. Evidently Mr. Wooldridge (like myself) found some difficulty in arriving at a final conclusion. Dorian DAP, Phrygian EAG-, Lydian PAO, Mixolydian GDC, Aeolian A EC, Ionian CCA, 16 THE MODAL SYSTEM Tantum Ergo, which is in the E mode, there are two clearly marked closes on D. Similar instances are not hard to find. No cadence is ever formed on the note B, because (owing to the non-existence of Dft), it cannot be made the basis of a major triad. Even the ' Plagal ' and ' Phrygian ' cadences are therefore impossible ; the perfect cadence more obviously so, because not only the final chord but the penultimate chord as well (which would require the note Aft) cannot be formed. ni RHYTHM It has already been observed (see p. 3) that in the polyphonic music of the sixteenth century a double system of accentuation is employed. The rhythmical accentuation of each individual part is free, that is to say, the accents do not occur at strictly regular intervals, whereas the composition as a whole does conform to a fixed metrical scheme in which strong and weak accents succeed one another in a pre-determined order. This idea may seem diffi- cult to grasp at first, but the student who gives it a few moments' consideration will find that it is not really so unfamiliar as he may think. In the rhythm of poetry there is a precisely similar duality, as any one may quickly convince himself. Take the familiar open- ing of Milton's Paradise Lost : Of Man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, Sing, Heavenly Muse ... There is no doubt as to the metre of this ; it is the common five- foot iambic metre which is scanned thus : u-|u-|u-|u-|u-, but only a very ignorant person would accentuate the lines in this manner when reading them : \j — \j — \_* — \j — *j — Of Man's' first dis'obe dience and' the fruit' Of that' forbid'den tree' whose mor'tal taste, and so on. This would be the merest sing-song, in which the metrical accents are falsely emphasized at the expense of the natural rhythm and stress of the words. The latter must be pre- served, for it enables us to distinguish between the more and the less important elements of the thought which the words convey. Yet the metrical scheme also persists. You may not hear it, but it is somewhere in the back of your head all the time, as a kind of pattern or standard to which every line of the poetry is referred, more or less unconsciously, for comparison. And the delight of reading good verse arises largely from this duality of apprehension. 18 RHYTHM Each verse as it comes is both true to itself and true to type ; the ear catches the stress in all its variety, the mind retains its hold on the quantities, short and long, short and long, in orderly recurrence. Between the rhythmical accent (the accent of stress) and the metrical accent (the accent of quantity) there is a continual inter- play ; sometimes they coincide, sometimes they are at odds, and the rhythmical problem before the poet is to strike the just balance. Too much coincidence means monotony ; too much at-oddness means chaos. Now, once it is realized that a double system of accentuation is habitually employed and recognized in poetry, there is no difficulty in applying a similar conception to music. The only thing that may stand in the student's way is the custom of the bar-line, which he has come to regard as necessarily indicating a strong rhythmic accent. It will be shown later that the bar-line (inserted in modern editions of sixteenth-century music for convenience to the eye, and to mark the beginning of each measure) has a purely metrical significance, and exercises no control whatever over the rhythmical accent. Meantime, before proceeding to demonstrate this by example, it is, perhaps, advisable to discuss rather more fully the difference between stress accent and quantity accent. In most languages the mathematical distinction between long and short (one long = two shorts) is largely theoretical, a convention observed only for metrical purposes. In practice, a long syllable is more or less long, a short more or less short, according to the amount of stress it receives in utterance ; in our own language, for instance, very many syllables are potentially short or long, and it is only when you see them in a particular context, and can judge (by the sense of the words) whether they are stressed or un- stressed, that you can classify them as short or long. In other words, quantity is dominated, and often actually determined, by stress. In music, on the other hand, quantitative relationships are mathematically exact. A semibreve is always equal to two minims, and a dotted semibreve to three, and so on, and even if a composer likes to complicate matters by writing five crotchets to be played in the space of a semibreve, or five quavers in that of a dotted crotchet, the new relationship can still be stated in mathematical terms, | or |, or whatever the ratio may be. The performance of concerted music is only made possible by the strict observance of these time- proportions. Consequently, every note has to receive its just value, and if that value is longer than the values of the notes in the immediate vicinity, it tends to assert itself over them and to make itself felt as the accentual centre of the group. Let me try to make EHYTHM 19 this clear by an example (Ex. 38). Here you have no time-signature, no metrical indication of any kind to prejudice you, no text to show you where a stress might be required by the sense of the words. Suppose you try to articulate the passage. It is obvious that to split it up into regular groups of three or regular groups of four is impossible, save by an act of sheer violence. Try as you may, you will not be able to feel that the main accents fall in any other places than the ones marked, for the simple reason that at each of these places there is a momentary arresting of the rhythmic flow, which catches your attention and keeps it in suspense for an instant until the flow is resumed. That instant is quite enough to make you conscious that an accent has been created, without the aid of any dynamic increase. So strongly, indeed, is the force of the ' agogic ' accent felt that it may almost be said to carry its own stress with it, making the listener imagine it has been reinforced by stress, when as a matter of fact it has not been so reinforced. Had the notes in the example above been of equal duration, the tendency would have been to hear them mentally as regular groups of two, three, or four notes, with an imaginary stress on the first note of each group. Here one does not, cannot do that, because the varying magnitude of the notes affords an actual basis of differentiation which the ear cannot ignore. Now it is important to bear this principle in mind. The reader, finding that the bar-line gives him no clue to the position of the rhythmical accents, will naturally want to know how he is to find out where those accents are. In the music of the sixteenth century there are no stress marks and sforzandos, as there are in modern music. There are the words, certainly, and where they indicate (as they often do) the accentuation of the music to which they are set, there is of course no difficulty. But in many places they give no such indication ; notably in certain movements of the Mass, where the composer does not fit the music syllable by syllable to the text, but writes the music simply as music, inserting at the beginning of the piece the text to which it is fitted, and leaving the copyist or the singer (as the case may be) to accommodate the syllables of the text to their appropriate musical phrase. To articulate such passages, the student must find out where the accents of duration are most strongly felt, and in the preceding paragraph he has been given a principle on which to look for them. That principle may be expressed briefly thus, that a note which is either preceded or followed (and still more strongly, one that is both preceded and followed) by notes of smaller value than itself tends to have the force of an accent. In the example already given, there was no 02 20 EHYTHM ambiguity ; but melodies are not always so obliging. The student may often find himself in doubt, and he will do well to bear the following maxims in mind : 1. Accents should be neither too many nor too few.- There must be enough of them to hold the melody firmly together and prevent it, so to speak, from sagging, but they should not be so close together as to detract from each other's importance. 2. The rhythm of a phrase is frequently (some would say ' always ') anacrusic ; that is to say, the accented note is not necessarily the first note of the phrase, but may be preceded by an unaccented note or series of notes — an 'up-beat' as we should call it to-day. Even so, there will be many doubtful cases, and a rhythmical analysis of the same passage by different hands is quite likely to show some divergence in detail. That does not matter in the least. It is largely a matter of discretion and common sense; the im- portant thing is to have some method whereby you can apprehend a melody as a rhythmical organism, built up of clearly defined accentual groups, and not as a haphazard series of unrelated sounds. If the student happens to find a passage that is quite unamenable to analysis by the methods here suggested, he is justified in regarding it as a case of dormitat Homerus — a momentary lapse of technique. He should always test the rhythmical structure of his own counter- point in this manner ; a properly constructed melody will convey to the ear just the same sense of freedom and balance as the prose composition of a good writer. You can always tell when a piece of ' prose sounds unrhythmic, and when you come to analyse it, you generally find its failure due to one of three causes : 1. The stresses are too many, the result being a feeling of hurry and congestion. 2. They are too few, which gives an impression of flabbiness and want of vigour. 3. They are too regular in their occurrence, in which case you feel a lack of freedom, just as in cases (1) and (2) you feeLa lack of balance. In music, in precisely the same manner, a melodic period will be felt as rhythmic or unrhythmic in so far as the distribution of the accents complies with this twofold artistic requirement — freedom and balance. It has already been said more than once that the time-signature at the beginning of a sixteenth-century composition is of purely metrical significance, exercising an important influence on the harmonic structure of the composition, but having nothing to do RHYTHM 21 with the rhythmical structure of the parts .taken individually. It now remains to prove that this is true. The harmonic aspect of the question is discussed in Chapter V ; for the moment, it is the rhythm of the single voices that we have to consider. Our first two examples are very well known ; they are both from Palestrina's Stabat Mater. Examples 39 and 40 show them barred out at regular intervals in accordance with the time-signature,- and it can be seen at once that to attempt to place a strong accent at the beginning of every such group is to make nonsense of the words ; for instance : > \j'. \j > \j \j > Fac ut tecum lugeam O w>VJO > > > fac ut ardeat cor meum *-» w >■ \J \J In amando Christum Deum. The above is clearly gibberish. In Examples 39 a and 40 a we have the same two excerpts barred out in accordance with the real rhythmic accentuation : in this case, however, to save space, the top line of the music only is given. It will be noticed that in both cases the scansion— that is to say, the size and conformation of the rhyth- mical groups — is irregular, and designedly so, the intention being, as we shall see, to bring out the rhythm of the words and not merely to reproduce their metre. Furthermore, this principle is observed whatever the time-signature may be (in Example 39, for instance, the signature is duple (£), in Example 40 triple (I). It remains for the student to satisfy himself that such cases as this are normal, and not exceptional. To do so, he must study the scores of the period in detail, but a few more examples are appended which have been purposely chosen to show that the principle enunciated is not confined to any one country, language, or school of composition. In these examples the imaginary metrical divisions are shown by the bar-line, While the stress marks indicate the real rhythmical accentuation. It must be remembered that the stress marks do not indicate anything in the nature of a violent sforzando, but are there merely to show that the rhythmic accents do not necessarily coincide with the metrical accents. No. 41 is from Morales (Spain), No. 42 from Orlando Lasso (Flemish, but at that time resident in Munich), No. 43 from Byrd (England), No. 44 from Morley (England), No. 45 from Bertani 1 (Italy). It is also worth noticing, that in secular composition (madrigals, canzonets, and so on) the principle of irregular accentuation is not so systematically followed as in the great sacred forms of music, the I 1 Quoted in Arion, vol. i. 22 EHYTHM Mass and the Motet Frequently you will come across melodic sentences which resolve naturally into regular units of duple or triple measure ; but the interesting thing to note here is that such measure is frequently not the measure indicated by the time- signature of the composition. If the former is duple, the latter is often triple, and vice versa. Examples 46 and 47 (both from Morley) illustrate this clearly. Examples 48 and 49 (both from Andre" Pevernage) illustrate the further point that a rhythmic group of 8 units need not subdivide geometrically into two fours or four twos ; in both these passages the unit of 8 divides arithmetically (a) into 6 + 2, (6) into 3 + 5, and in the second of them the rhythmical groups of 8 do not coincide at all with the metrical divisions. From now onward, then, it will be taken as clear that the measure or time-signature of any polyphonic composition of this period, sacred or secular, does not exercise any control whatever over the rhythmical structure of any of the individual parts. It was remarked above that the words of the text often indicate the rhythmical outline of the music. While this is true in a general sense, it must be observed that a composer is nevertheless free to a considerable extent to settle the details of his rhythm in accordance with his own purely musical requirements. The examples already quoted from the Stabat Mater are worth considering rather more closely from this point of view. It is obvious that Palestrina could equally well have set these lines without telescoping the measures, as he actually does. (Exx. 50 and 51, for instance, are also quite a fair musical equivalent of the verbal rhythm.) To the question, why did he not so set them? the only answer can be that he preferred it otherwise ; that even in setting a metrical text (this hymn is in the trochaic four-foot, — w | - w | - w | — w) he de- liberately chose an irregular musical accentuation, as giving greater freedom and flexibility without in any way distorting or violating the rhythm of the words. How skilfully he reconciles the two can be realized by examining the first instance in detail. Here the second syllable of Stabat is unimportant, but from its position before another consonant — and particularly the consonant m — it acquires a certain quantitative value. The composer is therefore at liberty to dwell on it to some extent, and as a matter of fact he gives it the value of a semibreve. But he is careful to put this semibreve in between two other notes of equal value, so that it is not made unduly prominent. In the third measure, on the other hand, the third syllable of dolorosa— clearly the accentual climax of the line— also receives the value of a semibreve and no more ; but in this case the semibreve follows a note of only half its own value, so that the ear RHYTHM 23 will more easily recognize its accentual force. A slight increase in dynamic stress— for which the choirmaster can be trusted— is all that is needed to make its rhythmical importance unmistakable. It will not be a waste of time for the student to examine some of the remaining examples by himself, considering carefully in each case (1) whether the composer could have found other rhythmical equivalents for the given texts, and (2) if so, whether there is any evident reason why he should have given this particular one the preference. In the examples so far given the text has clearly indicated to some extent the rhythmical outline of the music. To supplement these, one or two examples from settings of the Mass are appended to show the student how the same ideal of freedom and balance is aimed at by the composer when there is no verbal rhythm to influence him. In articulating these passages the only principle to guide us is the one already enunciated, viz., that any momentary reduction in the rate of the rhythmic flow tends to create an accent, and that such an accent, though strictly speaking an accent of duration only, tends to carry its own stress with it. Applying this principle, we find once more that the accents occur irregularly, and that the rhythmical groups or units defined by them are correspondingly irregular in size. That is just what we should have expected, having found already that in sacred music (even to metrical words) this same freedom, this irregu- larity which never degenerates into confusion, is the rhythmical ideal to which the composer aspires. But the composers of the sixteenth century were not content with the effect obtainable by contrasting the real rhythmical accent with the imaginary metrical accent. Above all, they loved to make the rhythmical accents of each part cross and clash with those of every other part. This constant rhythmical conflict is the most vital and suggestive feature in the whole of the sixteenth-century technique, and the one which the student should above all endeavour to imitate in his own counterpoint exercises. He may find it hard at first, for it is a real technical discipline, but this need cause him no discouragement. The difficulty is largely one of preconception, of realizing that the bar-line is not really the tyrant we have come to imagine it. As soon as the student is able to convince himself of his new-found liberty, he will feel nothing but delight at being free to construct his rhythms in accordance with his own artistic instinct. He will not regret his crutches as soon as he finds out that he is not really a cripple. A few examples have been chosen to illustrate this device, and more will be found in Chapter VIII, for it is an aspect of technique 24 EHYTHM to which the English composers paid special attention, and many of them, Byrd and Morley in particular, exhibit an extraordinary daring and resourcefulness. It will now be clear why we have examined at such length the principles of rhythmical articulation governing a single line of melody. It was necessary in order that when we came to illustrate the varieties of rhythmic combination which distinguish the music of this period from all the music of a later date, the student could feel himself on sufficiently firm ground to understand the method of procedure, and not be compelled to ask at every turn, ' How do you arrive at this ? Why do you scan this part in such and such a manner, and this other part quite differ- ently ? ' All we have to do now is to leave the examples to speak for themselves, and to assure the reader that though they have been chosen specially to illustrate this aspect of the technique, they are in no sense abnormal. The method they illustrate is the rule, and not the exception, as any one may satisfy himself who will be at the pains to carry out further analysis on his own account. In these examples, as previously, the bar-lines are inserted to show the metrical divisions, while the stress marks show where the rhythmical accents are most strongly felt. The rhythmic analysis, it must be repeated, is determined on general principles (already stated), aided by common sense ; it is not intended as a dogmatic exposition, in which every detail claims the authority of a papal edict. One or two points claim attention. In Ex. 55 the minim is the unit, and the occurrence of four consecutive 5-note rhythms in the tenor part (commencing at the third beat of the sixth measure) is worth noticing, for the same rhythm prevails at the same time in the alto part, but the accents clash systematically at the interval of a beat. The melodic progression of the tenor in measures 8 and 9 is also unusual in Palestrina, but is explained by the termination of a phrase on the third beat of the ninth measure, the fourth beat being the commencement of a new phrase. In Ex. 56 the signature is C instead of <$ , and the unit is the crotchet instead of the minim. Here one must observe the prevalence of the 3-note rhythm telescoping the 4-note measures, and the ingenuity with which these 3-note rhythms are made to overlap one another in the different parts — a curious complexity which is usually more characteristic of the English madrigalists than the Italian. Another fine instance of the same device is to be found in Josquin des Prey motet Ave Maria, at the section commencing with the words ' Im- maculata castitas* (the whole of this motet is quoted in M. Vincent d'Indy's Cours de Composition rnusicale). The next two instances (both from Byrd) call for no particular comment, except that, RHYTHM 25 although the minim is the unit in the first instance and the crotchet in the second, Byrd (with his habitual carelessness in these matters) has used the signature G indifferently in both cases. The careful- ness of Palestrina (as illustrated in the two previous examples) is no less characteristic. In the short extract (Ex. 59, also from Byrd) the feature is the 2-minim sequence in the bass heard against two freely-moving upper parts, in which a 5-minim phrase, treated canonically, becomes prominent. In the last example (a very beautiful one from Wilbye), each part (despite the signature C) starts off in a smoothly-flowing | measure, the two lower voices combining to pit their stress against that of the upper one. In conclusion, a few words about the time-signatures employed in the sixteenth century may not be out of place. The student of musical history will constantly come across the terms Mood, Time, and Prolation, and he should know what they mean. They all refer to the methods of sub-dividing a note into notes of lesser value, Mood expressed the relations of the Long and the Breve : in Mood Perfect, a Long was equal to three Breves, in Mood Imperfect, to two. Time expressed the relation of the Breve to the Semibreve ; it likewise could be perfect (sign O or 0), or imperfect (sign C or usually ) to show the incidence of the rhythmical accents. But if this is used, it must be clearly understood that it implies nothing in the nature of a sforzando. V HAEMONY I. Before discussing the harmonic technique of the sixteenth century in detail, it is well to remind the student that concord is the basis of it all. Discord is an incident, a momentary interrup- tion of concord. Imagine four people walking abreast; one of them stops for an instant, and then has to run to catch the others up ; or possibly one of them waits for him, and then the two run together till they have got into line again with the other two. The sixteenth-century view of discord (and it is a mistake to assume without consideration that this view is permanently obsolete) is that of a similar breaking line. Instead of all the parts moving together to the new concord, one of them gets left behind (sus- pended) for a moment and then the others wait for him to rejoin them, concord being restored as he does so; such interruption is governed by certain clearly defined methods of procedure, which are known as the preparation and resolution of discord ; but though some such definition is necessary for the purpose of explanation, it is misleading in so far as it seems to endow the discord with an objective existence. Strictly speaking, the discord itself is merely a method of preparing a fresh concord, and the object of such preparation (not in itself necessary) is to obtain variety of texture, and to enable the different voices to maintain their rhythmic inde- pendence. At the same time there is no doubt that the sixteenth- century composers, by constantly employing such procedure, became increasingly sensitive to the emotional effect of discord, and to the possibility of employing it for a harmonic, and not a purely rhythmical purpose. It is also necessary to be quite clear beforehand as to the number of harmonies that may be employed in a measure or (as it may be convenient to call it) a bar. Many text-books say that two har- monies in a bar are permissible, others, challenging them, that only one can be permitted. Both these views are quite arbitrary and may be disregarded. It all depends on the time-signature. In * time (