HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF MUSICAL FORMS.
ByMYLES B. FOSTER, Organist of the Foundling Hospital.
I
nmy last sketch I endeavoured to show you, as briefly as I could, the historical aspect of sacred concerted music in some of its vocal forms, with and without instrumental accompaniment. We will now, for a short space, consider vocal concerted music as adapted to secular uses.
Prominent here above its fellows stands the Madrigal, claiming precedence not only for its antiquity, but also for its lofty style, and, in most cases, learned and elaborate development.
Once again the name for our subject is veiled in a certain amount of doubt and speculation. There are at least five different theories in reference to the derivation of “Madrigal,” not one of which seems altogether suitable. All disputants agree on one point, at any rate, that “Madrigal” was originally the term given to poems founded upon a motto or theme, and was afterwards transferred to the music to which such poems were wedded.
From the rarity of MSS. in early times, one is led to believe that the Troubadours extemporised the discant[1]which they added to their secular melodies, and which was as undoubtedly the origin of the madrigal as the combination of plain chant and discant was the fount from which sprang the motett. The connection of the term with a poem of a popular character certainly existed as early as the fourteenth century, and perhaps earlier.
There appear to have been three classes of secular composition, for which madrigal became the general term—viz., madrigals for one voice, with accompaniment; madrigals for several voices, in parts and unaccompanied; and, lastly, madrigals accompanied by many instruments, and sometimes described as “apt for viols and voices.” The English writers preferred the second class, and excelled in it.
In the fifteenth century the madrigal was well known in the Low Countries, being at that time invariably constructed according to the ancient ecclesiastical modes, and sometimes containing great features of elaboration. I complained, when speaking of the history of the mass, that musical subjects originally associated with profane words were introduced as canti fermi, but we find in the case of the madrigal that the reverse happened, and that passages of plain chant were used in connection with some light secular counter-subject.
Petrucci, before mentioned as the inventor of movable music types, was the first to publish these works, composed by such representatives of the early Flemish madrigal school as Okenheim, Tinctor, Josquin des Prés, Agricola, and several others. I should like once again to quote that learned writer on music, Mr. Rockstro, who considers this first period “no less interesting than instructive to the critical student, for it is here that we first find science and popular melody working together for a common end.”
From 1530 to the end of the sixteenth century a great advance was taking place in art generally. Appropriate treatment of words, and, if it were necessary, simplicity itself, restrained that desire to show contrapuntal complexity and other conceits at the selfish expense of truth and honesty.
This advance in the right direction was supported by the last composers of the old Flemish school, Archadelt, De Wert, Waelrant, and that great writer Orlando di Lasso, at whose death the madrigal school of the Netherlands ended; but not so the madrigal itself, which long ere this had been transplanted into other countries, and had commenced to grow most healthily in Italy. In fact, Archadelt’s first collection of madrigals was published in Venice in 1538, and was speedily followed by five other sets, in some of which we find specimens by the first really good Italian madrigal writer, Costanzo Festa. In his work, and until Palestrina, vestiges remain of the Flemish style; but gradually the Roman or Italian element destroyed all foreign character and influence, and alone remained.
Palestrina wrote madrigals with equal facility and merit in all styles; he named two of his volumes “Madrigali Spirituali,” sacred music, but intended rather for the chamber than the church, for which latter the motetts were written. He varies every passage according to the sentiment of the words, and above all his contrapuntal learning, places his noble sincerity and purity of style and expression. Would that our modern work possessed such simple nobility!
Succeeding him, Felice Anerio produced, and in 1585 published, three volumes of Madrigali spirituali, and, soon after the year 1600, two volumes of secular madrigals; there were besides fine madrigals by Giovanelli Nanini, Francesco Anerio, and last but not least, Luca Marenzio. These and others formed the great Roman school, but there existed a school in Venice also, founded by Willaert the Netherlander, from which sprang the works of the two Gabrielis, Leo Hasler, Gastoldi and Croce. In Florence also madrigals were very popular for a short time, until the craving of the Florentines for instrumental accompaniment destroyed their early affection for purely vocal music.
In Naples a lighter form (villanella) existed, but in France and Germany it found no home, where the chanson and volkslied held their respective sway.
In England a national school was formed which took firm root, and developed into fully as healthy a tree as any of the rival foreign growths. First of all Italian madrigals were introduced and printed in England, but by the end of the sixteenth century Byrd and Morley had published original specimens, and the madrigal was fast becoming an English institution, supported by such excellent composers as Weelkes, Edwardes, Kirby, Dowland, Wilbye, Ford, Benet, Michael Este, and others. We may call special attention to Morley’s collection in honour of the virgin Queen Elizabeth, named the “Triumphes of Oriana,” including madrigals by many of the above-named writers. It was published in 1601. Only a few years later Orlando Gibbons brought out a volume of “Madrigals and Motets,” and just a hundred years after the earliest publication in England of such works, appeared a book of madrigals collected by Martin Pierson. Madrigals they undoubtedly were, though he called them “mottects.” Ambros, in his “Geschichte der Musik,” speaks in the highest praise of our great madrigal school, and names it “one of the most pleasing flowers of that Elizabethan soil,” a soil teeming with great scholars, poets, and dramatists.
To conclude, the madrigal is generally interpreted by many voices to each part, and as a rule is the more effective in proportion to the number of singers employed. Whereas the glee, into which the madrigal gradually changed, and of which we are about to speak, is intended to be sung by a single representative of each part. Other differences, more important than this, we shall have occasion to note later on.
At the beginning of the seventeenth century the madrigal, properly so called, disappeared from amongst the compositions of both English and foreign musicians. The wordgleeis the Anglo-Saxon “gligg”—music, and has no special reference to joyfulness; in fact, it is as common to find the title “serious glee,” as it is to see “cheerful glee.” A glee is unaccompanied, and is written for at least three solo voices, most frequently men. The chief differences between the glee and the older form of madrigal are the natural results of evolution in harmony, and the wedding of words to expressive music, even in defiance of ancient and mechanical rules. The tonality of the former is modern, the subjects are constantly changing, and are seldom developed, leaving an unsatisfactory feeling of restless abundance, inability to make the best use of the rich resources, and a consequently frequent complete cadence, which in many cases gives a detached, hesitating feeling to the work. Continuity seems to be the best test of great ideas; having something to say, and if worth saying, saying that something thoroughly and logically.
Our best glee writers, living from 1740 to the early part of this century, were Samuel Webbe, Dr. Callcott, his son-in-law, William Horsley, Sir H. R. Bishop, and Sir John Goss. If you go back to the commencement of the glee period, by a careful study of the works of Weelkes and Gibbons, you will find in the latter’s compositions many striking novelties in harmonic progression, and in those of the former equally powerful and novel contrasts in movement and expression, and in the masterpieces of both great independence of thought, in which combined advances we trace the transition from the madrigal to the glee, the latter being essentially English.
Later in the seventeenth century, during and after the Commonwealth, meetings for the singing of glees and catches were generally held in inns and taverns, the musicians being forbidden the theatres, previous to the restoration of King Charles II.
Glees were first published in the collection by John Playford, called the “Musical Companion.” Catches, canons, and rounds took the place of the old glee after this: and even these, according to Dr. Greene, were seldom sung about the middle of the eighteenth century. Amongst excellent writers of catches and canons we find Henry Purcell, Dr. Croft, Dr. Blow, and many others. Shortly after Dr. Greene’s lament—that is, in 1760—a catch club was started for the resuscitation of glee and catch singing, and since then untoour own times clubs and societies have flourished for this purpose, and have encouraged English composition in these forms.
It is thought by some writers that Sir Henry Bishop’s glees are not properly so called, because they have independent accompaniments. Their form, however, is generally that of the best glees.
A canon is a species of imitation, the most strict and exact of all imitations, written according to rule (καυώυ), the idea being that one voice shall start a melody and some other voice follow with the same melody a few beats later on, imitating the first voice note for note, and usually interval for interval, either at the unison, the octave, or some other distance. At one period canons were made musical puzzles, by the composer writing only the first part (called the “dux,” or leader), and then, by some sign over one of the bars, indicating at what point the following voice (or “comes”) should come in, the latter singer having to guess the correct interval at which he was expected to enter. However ingenious such riddles may be, they do not help art.
A catch at first greatly resembled the round, where a complete continuous melody was written out, and when one singer had reached a certain point in this melody, another singer had to begin, andcatch uphis part in time—the difference between catch and canon being that in the former each part imitates at the same pitch; in the latter the imitation may be at any interval from the original voice. Besides, many canons are connected with sacred words, and introduced into our cathedral services, whereas the catch, in the reign of that dissolute monarch, Charles II., degenerated into an improper play upon words, assisted by music. At a later date, in the eighteenth and at the beginning of this century, this idea of the singers “catching at each other’s words,” so as to alter the meaning of those words, was cleverly used by S. Webbe, Dr. Callcott, and others. A well-known example by the latter will best explain the effect produced:—
“Ah! how, Sophia, could you leaveYour lover, and of hope bereave?”“Go, fetch the Indian’sborrowed plume,Though richer far than that you bloom.”“I’m but a lodgerin her heart,Where more than me, I fear, have part.”
“Ah! how, Sophia, could you leaveYour lover, and of hope bereave?”“Go, fetch the Indian’sborrowed plume,Though richer far than that you bloom.”“I’m but a lodgerin her heart,Where more than me, I fear, have part.”
“Ah! how, Sophia, could you leaveYour lover, and of hope bereave?”“Go, fetch the Indian’sborrowed plume,Though richer far than that you bloom.”“I’m but a lodgerin her heart,Where more than me, I fear, have part.”
“Ah! how, Sophia, could you leave
Your lover, and of hope bereave?”
“Go, fetch the Indian’sborrowed plume,
Though richer far than that you bloom.”
“I’m but a lodgerin her heart,
Where more than me, I fear, have part.”
The result of one voice entering after another is, that the first seems to be shouting, “A house a-fire!” the second excitedly answers, “Go, fetch the engines!” whilst the third excuses himself by saying, “I’m but a lodger!” After all, these could only be considered ingenious trifles, and most of the singing clubs have turned their attention to the more interesting and higher forms of madrigal, glee, and part song, which, as a later development, we will now speak of.
A part song is most likely to prove itself a melody harmonised, in three, four, or more parts—that is to say, there will be but little contrapuntal or imitative writing about it. It is of German origin; but it has been imported into our country, and our native composers have written some very beautiful specimens.
Part songs have been written either for sopranos, altos, tenors, and basses, or for male or female voices only. Many are in the ballad form, in which the same music is repeated to any number of verses; others are more elaborate, and contain portions allotted to solo voices, or to a single voice accompanied by a chorus. Part songs may be set to either secular or sacred poems. Schubert’s, Weber’s, and Mendelssohn’s contributions to this form of music are of great value and of wonderful variety.
Those of the latter helped to revive the taste for part music in England, and assisted in the foundation of the many classes and smaller choral societies which nowadays are in existence all over the country, from Penzance to the north of Scotland, and the formation of which creates the demand in our country for composition of this kind. Amongst modern English writers may be named Henry Smart, Sullivan, Samuel Reay, Barnby, Macfarren, Miss Macirone, Eaton Faning, and last and greatest, J. L. Hatton. I might add to this list many names, for the making of part songs is without end.
Whether in two, three, or more parts, the part song should be sung by a number of voices, the proportion, of course, being carefully balanced. I must tell you before I finish that there are also many duets, trios, and quartets which do not come within the range of the part song, it being intended that they shall be rendered by a single representative of each part, but many of these are extracted from works in which each part is taken by one of thedramatis personæ. Such excerpts we cannot include in our consideration of complete works. In my next sketch I hope to conclude the subject of vocal forms, and to turn your attention to instrumental varieties.
(To be continued.)