"Love follows knowledge."
"Beauty above all beauty!"
– St. Catherine of Siena

Showing posts with label Medieval Music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Medieval Music. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 22, 2020

Music Tuesday: In dulci jubilo

This traditional Christmas hymn—not sure I would call this a carol, although everyone else calls it a carol—caught my attention when I looked up Blessed Henry Suso.  Henry Suso is the English delineation of the German, Heinrich Seuse, who was a Fourteenth Century (1295-1366) Dominican friar, famous preacher, defender of the controversial Meister Eckhart, spiritual writer, poet, and Christian mystic.  He was beatified by Pope Gregory XVI in 1831, almost five hundred years after his death.  He has not been canonized as of now.

Henry Suso caught my attention from a recent conversation I had with a Dominican Sister who had taken on the religious name of Sister Henry Suso.  Now I had heard of Blessed Henry Suso—he was part of the Fourteenth Century German mystics who called themselves the “Friends of God”—but I did not know any real detail, and I had never heard anyone take on his name for their own.  I did not ask the good Sister why she took his name—it was not part of our conversation, and frankly only came to mind after we had parted.  If I ever speak to her again, I will definitely ask.

So I started to research Blessed Henry.  He came from a noble German family but was rejected by his father for not being inclined to the military life, and the father sent Heinrich to a Dominican friary at the age of thirteen.  I surmise Suso was too bookish for his “coarse” father.  Benedict M. Ashley, O.P. allocates three pages, which is not insignificant, to Suso in his history on the Order of Preachers, The Dominicans (Wipf and Sock Publishers, 1990), and relates how the “dreamy” boy came “under the influence of courtly literature.”  A sensitive boy, he then came to his spiritual awakening at the age of eighteen, went on to study in Cologne under Meister Eckhart, and when Eckhart was accused of heresy, Suso published his first book, The Little Book of Truth, explaining Eckhart’s theology from an acceptable, non-heretical point of view.  But it was his next book that brought his own thought to the public.  Ashley writes

 

[At] about 1328 he wrote a much more personal work The Little Book of Eternal Wisdom in which in vivid poetic language he developed his chief theme of a spiritual marriage to the Crucified as the Eternal Wisdom through total emptying of self and a sharing in His Passion.  (p. 73)

That is interesting.  I have read of several female saints who had a spiritual marriage with Christ—St, Catherine of Siena perhaps the most famous—but Suso is the only male saint I know to have done so with the possible exception of St. John of the Cross.  Suso went on to write more books, lecture, and preach sermons.  Perhaps this mystical marriage is why the good Dominican Sister felt a connection with the Fourteenth century Dominican mystic.

And this brings me to this beautiful hymn which translates to "In Sweet Rejoicing."  Suso didn’t write the music but he wrote the words in an ecstatic mystical experience where he was dancing with angels.  Or perhaps more precisely one of the angels dictated the words to him.  Fr. Ezra Sullivan, O.P. at his website quotes from Suso’s autobiography:  /

 

“Now this same angel came up to the Servant [Suso] brightly, and said that God had sent him down to him, to bring him heavenly joys amid his sufferings; adding that he must cast off all his sorrows from his mind and bear them company, and that he must also dance with them in heavenly fashion. Then they drew the Servant by the hand into the dance, and the youth began a joyous song about the infant Jesus, which runs thus: ‘In dulci jubilo…'(-from Bl Suso’s auto/biography)

Perhaps it’s noteworthy that Suso wrote the words from this mystical experience at about the same time he published his first book of his spirituality.  The words over time have been put to several melodies.  I don’t know if Suso ever heard it sung, except by the angels, or if he even conceptualized it as a song.  The original is a mixture of German and Latin, which I think is original in itself, and here is the first verse of that original.

 

 1. In dulci jubilo,

Nun singet und seid froh!

Unsers Herzens Wonne

Leit in praesepio,

Und leuchtet als die Sonne

Matris in gremio,

Alpha es et O, Alpha es et O!

 

You can read all four verses in the original here.    

I think the most common setting to music is the Robert Lucas de Pearsall translation published in 1837.  Robert Lucas de Pearsall was a 19th century English composer mostly known today for the setting of this carol.  What’s distinct about Pearsall’s translation, which strikes me as brilliant, is that he kept that Latin verses while loosely translating the German into English.  It keeps the religious tone of the piece while one whose native language is English can grasp the meaning.  Here are all four verses of the Pearsall translation.  

 

1. In dulci jubilo

Let us our homage shew:

Our heart's joy reclineth

In praesepio;

And like a bright star shineth

Matris in gremio,

Alpha es et O!

 

2. O Jesu parvule,

My heart is sore for Thee!

Hear me, I beseech Thee,

O puer optime;

My praying let it reach Thee,

O princeps gloriae.

Trahe me post te.

 

3. O patris caritas!

O Nati lenitas!

Deeply were we stained.

Per nostra crimina:

But Thou for us hast gained

Coelorum gaudia,

Qualis gloria!

 

4. Ubi sunt gaudia,

If that they be not there?

There are Angels singing

Nova cantica;

And there the bells are ringing

In Regis curia.

O that we were there!

Finally for having to bear with me as I took you through the general history of this carol, I offer you a Christmas present, two versions of In dolci jubilo. First a medieval arrangement by the early music group Harry Christopher’s The Sixteen.



And then a more contemporary version sung by The St. Phillip’s Boy’s Choir.

 

Merry Christmas to all.




Tuesday, May 17, 2016

Music Tuesday: Songs from Boëthius’ “Consolation of Philosophy”

For many years now I have been fascinated by and have fallen in love with medieval music.  Back in April, songs reconstructed from a 1000 year old text that had been lost since the middle of the 19th century was performed at Cambridge.  From the University of Cambridge website

‘Songs of Consolation’, to be performed at Pembroke College Chapel, Cambridge on April 23, is reconstructed from neumes (symbols representing musical notation in the Middle Ages) and draws heavily on an 11th century manuscript leaf that was stolen from Cambridge and presumed lost for 142 years.

Saturday’s performance features music set to the poetic portions of Roman philosopher Boethius’ magnum opus The Consolation of Philosophy. One of the most widely-read and important works of the Middle Ages, it was written during Boethius’ sixth century imprisonment, before his execution for treason. Such was its importance, it was translated by many major figures, including King Alfred the Great, Chaucer and Elizabeth I.

Hundreds of Latin songs were recorded in neumes from the 9th through to the 13th century. These included passages from the classics by Horace and Virgil, late antique authors such as Boethius, and medieval texts from laments to love songs.  


Two short excerpts were let out to the public.  Here’s one, titled, “Heu quam praecipiti.”




AniciusManlius Severinus Boëthius was a fifth to sixth century Roman Senator, administrator, and philosopher who had reached the highest office under the current King of Italy, which had fragmented from the western portion of the Roman Empire.  Boëthius was born in 480, just four years from when the Latin half of the Roman Empire had collapsed.  Suddenly in 523 the King impulsively and unjustly suspected his underling had become treasonous, imprisoned him, and executed in in 524.  While in prison awaiting his execution, Boëthius composed his most famous philosophic work, TheConsolation of Philosophy.    

The Consolation of Philosophy deals with life’s uncertainties and that ultimately one has to rest one’s faith not in fame or things of this world, but upon the one true good, God.  It’s one of those works that has been on my reading list for a while, but I never seem to squeeze it into my reading.

The songs were composed several hundred years after Boëthius’s death but based on his text.  From the Cambridge article:

After piecing together an estimated 80-90 per cent of what can be known about the melodies for The Consolation of Philosophy, Barrett enlisted the help of Benjamin Bagby of Sequentia – a three-piece group of experienced performers who have built up their own working memory of medieval song.

Bagby, co-founder of Sequentia, is also a director of the Lost Songs Project which is already credited with bringing back to life repertoires from Beowulf through to the Carmina Burana.

Over the last two years, Bagby and Barrett have experimented by testing scholarly theories against the practical requirements of hand and voice, exploring the possibilities offered by accompaniment on period instruments. Working step-by-step, and joined recently by another member of Sequentia, the harpist-singer Hanna Marti, songs from The Consolation of Philosophy have now been brought back to life.

Oh I love Sequentia.  I have a few of their recordings.  I do hope they eventually record the entire composition and put it out for sale.  Here is the other excerpt put out for the public, titled “Carmina qui quondam.”






Just lovely.

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Music Tuesday: Lo ferm voler qu'el cor m'intra by Arnaut Daniel

In my third post on Dante’s Purgatorio, in a close analysis of canto xxvi, I mentioned the remarkable ending of that canto with a quote where Dante has the 12thcentury Provencal poet/troubadour, Arnaut Daniel speak in his native Provencal. Provencal was a Romance language dialect spoken in what is today northwest Italy, southern France, and even in southeast Spain. Linguists refer to it as Occitan, and I was surprised to find that there are still localized enclaves where it is spoken today.

As I mentioned in my Purgatorio, Part 3 post, Arnaut was called by Ezra Pound the greatest poet to ever have lived, and Ezra Pound knew poets. For this Music Tuesday, I want to post a rendition of one of Arnaut’s compositions. As I said Arnaut is in purgatory repenting for his erotic love poetry, and this is a very sultry piece. I guess Arnaut was a sort of rock lyricist of his day, but with far more sophistication than rock lyrics.

Before I get to the piece, let me also say I love Medieval music. I spent a few years trying to learn as much as I could. It is not all religious. There is very much a secular tradition, though it seems that a great deal of the secular music might have been lost. There was no repository like the Catholic Church to preserve secular music. That’s a pity, because both secular and religious, medieval music is wonderful. As always, Wikipedia has an excellent site on medieval music.

The title of this piece is taken from the song’s first line, “Lo ferm voler qu'el cor m'intra,” which translates to “The firm will that my heart enters.”







Here are the first three stanzas in Arnaut’s Provencal:

Lo ferm voler qu'el cor m'intra
no'm pot ges becs escoissendre ni ongla
de lauzengier qui pert per mal dir s'arma;
e pus no l'aus batr'ab ram ni verja,
sivals a frau, lai on non aurai oncle,
jauzirai joi, en vergier o dins cambra.

Quan mi sove de la cambra
on a mon dan sai que nulhs om non intra
-ans me son tug plus que fraire ni oncle-
non ai membre no'm fremisca, neis l'ongla,
aissi cum fai l'enfas devant la verja:
tal paor ai no'l sia prop de l'arma.

Del cor li fos, non de l'arma,
e cossentis m'a celat dins sa cambra,
que plus mi nafra'l cor que colp de verja
qu'ar lo sieus sers lai ont ilh es non intra:
de lieis serai aisi cum carn e ongla
e non creirai castic d'amic ni d'oncle.

And here is the translation of those three stanzas.
The firm will that my heart enters
can't be scraped by beak nor by nail
of slanderer who damns with ill speaking his soul;
since I don't dare beat them with bough or rod,
at least, secretly, where I won't have any uncle,
I'll enjoy pleasure, in the garden or in the room.

When I remember the room
where, to my scorn, I know no man enters
-instead they are all to me more than brother or uncle-
I have no limb that doesn't shake, not even the fingernail,
just as a child is before the rod:
such is my fear of not being close to her soul.

Were I close to her body, not to her soul,
were she to let me hide in her room,
since it hurts my heart more than strike of rod
that her servant isn't there where she enters:
I'll be with her what flesh is to nail
and I won't follow advice of friend or of uncle.

Oh do read the entire translated song.