Posts Tagged ‘Music’

The Image of the Jongleur in Northern France Around 1200

By John W. Baldwin

Speculum, Vol. 72, No. 3. (1997)

Introduction: In the pages of the Latin chroniclers writing around 1200 the jongleur appears as a gray, furtive shadow. His existence was acknowledged by the broad term joculator, but his functions were too suspect to deserve further comment. The clerical chroniclers associated jongleurs with other lay activities, such as making love, admiring feminine beauty, holding festivities, and fighting in tournaments, about which the less said, the better. In contemporary vernacular literature, however, the jongleur’s image springs into sharp focus and takes on vivid colors.

In the Roman de la rose of Jean Renart, for example, jongleurs swarm everywhere, at spring hunts, in courts and castles, at tournaments, and during the celebrations of marriages and coronations. From these crowds Jean treats his audience to a portrait of a single jongleur who bears the eponym Juglet:

He was intelligent and of great renown,
having heard and learned
many songs and many a fine story.

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The Medium of Middle English Lyrics

Stevick, Robert D.

Medieval English Studies, vol. 8 (2000)

Abstract

A few years ago I prepared a revised edition of One Hundred Middle English Lyrics for a new publisher, about thirty years after completing the first edition. During the intervening years I had drifted into Old English, the history of English, and some of the early Irish and English manuscript art―and had drifted away from Middle English lyric verse. Reviewing all at once the scholarship and criticism of the years since the early 1960’s was not the bewildering experience that Rip Van Winkle must have had when he woke up, because the critical currents were familiar, and because it was possible to read the full record of the study of these lyrics for the intervening years.

During this time the main lesson we have learned―or to our peril, have not learned―is to read these poems in context. Siegfried Wenzel made it embarrassingly clear that “some objects which former scholars prized as precious coins have … turned out to be plain buttons, and what were thought to be intricate designs on them have proven to be merely the holes through which they were once fastened to a coat”2: George Kane, Stephen Manning, Edmund Reiss, Robert Evans, Thomas Hill wrote eloquent appreciations and critical interpretations of what turns out to be a list of headings for parts of a Latin sermon. Meantime, the work of Rosemary Woolf, Peter Dronke, Douglas Gray, Judson Allen, Patrick Diehl has removed the last excuses for reading these poems as if they were by modern poets―i.e., by the major writers living after about 1550.

What I want to consider here is context of two other kinds. One is the language, which lacked a standard even for written communication or record, much less for literature. The other is the set of metrical conventions that were in use. Together, the language and the meter constitute the medium of Middle English lyrics. In this context, “intertextuality” of these poems is a nearly empty notion.

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The Sweet Song of Satan: Music and Resistance in the Vercelli Book

Heckman, Christina M.

Essays in Medieval Studies, vol. 15 (1998)

Abstract

In the poetry and prose homilies of the Vercelli Book, a collection of Anglo-Saxon texts dating from the second half of the tenth century, music exercises a constitutive as well as metaphorical force. Music not only symbolizes the harmony of communal consensus but also provides a means through which the Christian Church can identify itself with the divine order of the universe and position itself against evil forces. By using music to construct and intensify the fundamental conflict between God and Satan, the Vercelli texts function to restrict and control the Church’s internal struggles. But even as music contributes to the reinforcement of ecclesiastical power, it works against that consolidation. Whether music comes from heaven or from hell, the operation of music in human experience always provides space for resistance. That resistance, both in texts and in communal practices, can only be minimized by disciplining music into orderly patterns and restraining it to structured environments such as those of liturgical practice.

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Source Readings on the Practice and Spirituality of Chant: New Texts, New Approaches

Lochner, Fabian C.

Essays in Medieval Studies, vol. 8 (1991)

Abstract

Research on performance practice is one of the thriving fields in contemporary musicology. There is indeed a growing demand for information on the performance of medieval, Renaissance and Baroque music by the community of performing artists, baffled by the complexity of “early music” scores. Medieval treatises on music theory as well as Baroque and Renaissance instrumental methods are being perused for specific statements regarding different aspects of performance practice. In the field of Gregorian chant-the sacred music of the Western church such investigations have been initiated by the monks of Solesmes and further pursued by scholars such as Franz Muller-Hauser and Stephen Van Dijk.

However, the accumulation of specific technical data (such as tuning practices, number of singers involved in specific circumstances, rhythmical indications etc.) does not yet define a style of performance. Even when abundant documentation is available (as e.g., in the Baroque period), the possession of the letter does not necessarily entail the possession of the spirit! Indeed, the lack of the spirit often leaves the letter obscure and, eventually, may lead to serious misconceptions (and to fanciful performances).

In this paper dealing with medieval chant practice I contend three things: (1) the performance practice of Gregorian chant in the Middle Ages flows from, and is largely defined by a consistent tradition of Christian spirituality; (2) whereas we have no sound documents from the middle ages, the spiritual dimensions of chant are accessible through medieval source texts of both devotional and practical character; (3) a critical yet integral reading of these texts can show the direct link between spiritual attitude and musical performance, and thus help us to relive and reexperience in our times both the practice and the spirituality of chant.

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Interpolating the Musical Text of the Lyric Interpolations:Guillaume de Dole the Trouvere Manuscript Tradition

Callahan, Christopher

Essays in Medieval Studies, vol. 8 (1991)

Abstract

The early 13th century romance of Guillaume de Dole, more properly known as the Romance of the Rose, constitutes by its diverse collection of song types the oldest chansonnier that we possess. Written around 1230, it presents the most popular trouvère and troubadour songs, chansons de toile, pastourelles, and caroles of the day. We observe these lyric pieces, which number 46 in all, as they are performed by and for members of the German imperial court. Not only is the lyric contained in this narrative featured as the expression of a largely oral culture, but the narrative voice engages the reader’s participation in such a way as to suggest that the romance itself was intended to be performed. Much more than in any other Old French romance, the discursive features of the narrative text are those of the oral story-teller who addresses not a reader, but an extremely partial audience. Under these conditions, it would be entirely natural for the performer of the story to sing the lyric fragments, which extend to two stanzas at most the courtly songs and to a couplet or a refrain for the less aristocratic genres.

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Scholastic Imagery in The Florence Manuscript

Catalano, George

Essays in Medieval Studies, vol. 7 (1990)

Abstract

The Florence manuscript was produced in Paris during the mid-thirteenth century by a lay workshop now known as the Johannes Grusch atelier, a named coined by Robert Branner. This manuscript contains the largest extant collection of music in the “Notre Dame” style. Apart from Branner’s work, the Parisian origin of this manuscript has been determined in several ways: (1) It includes a copy of what a 13th-century theorist, commonly known as Anonymous IV, described as the magnus liber organi used at the cathedral of Paris; (2) The chants upon which the polyphonic compositions of the magnus liber organi are built are Parisian variants; (3) Though several manuscripts containing this music are extant, this is the only one in which the polyphony conforms without exception to the edicts of the Bishops of Paris governing polyphonic performance; (4) Furthermore, the correspondence between details of its liturgical cycles of organa and the known activities of the singers of the cathedral is often so strong that there can be little doubt that this manuscript represents a copy of the cathedral’s magnus liber organi and not another church’s within the Parisian diocese.

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Franciscan Chant as a Late Medieval Expression in the Liturgy

Wagner, Lavern John

Essays in Medieval Studies, vol. 5 (1988)

Abstract

When St. Francis turned his back on earthly vanities and established the Franciscan order in the first part of the 13th century, his biographers tell us he did not cease his interest in music. The Little Flowers of St. Francis recount that he went about singing, and we have the text, though not the music of several of his songs. In sending his friars out to preach he admonished them to sing God’s praises as if they were “joculatores Domini,” i.e. “minstrels of the Lord. The friars were closely associated with the composition and spread of laude spirituali simple religious songs in the vernacular that became enormously popular. While this popular aspect of the Franciscan musical contribution has been duly noted, the liturgical chants which the Franciscans developed, especially those commemorating saints of their order, have not been as thoroughly considered. It is interesting to explore some characteristics of Franciscan chant, and relate its musical style to the mainstream of medieval liturgical chant, the better known Gregorian chant.

As a background to this study, it can be recalled that in the latter part of the 19th century the monks of the Benedictine monastery at Solesmes, France conducted their epochal examinations of Gregorian chant manuscripts. The manuscripts which they researched, and which have since come to be regarded as representative of the “Golden Age” of Gregorian chant, come from the 9th through 12th centuries, a period before the Franciscan order existed. The monks of Solesmes published their research in the Volumes of their Paléographie musicale.6 Only recently has there been an attempt to study chant which was developed within other religious orders, and which is unique to them. Dom David Nicholson, a Benedictine at Mount Angel Abbey, Oregon, gathered together articles on the chants of many religious orders in the Dictionary of Plainsong which he compiled in the 1960’s. His intention was to have this Volume printed; however, changes in the Roman Catholic liturgy mitigated against this, and he was only able to have fifteen sets copied and bound as a private edition. My contribution to this Dictionary of Plainsong is on chants unique to the Franciscan order, and it has given the impetus to this study.

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Sounds and Sweet Airs: City Waits of Medieval and Renaissance England

Seitz, Cheryl Glenn

Essays in Medieval Studies, vol. 4 (1987)

Abstract

At the close of the seventeenth century, as the public conscience reacted to the excesses of the Restoration, and moral reform grew fashionable, tavern keeper Ned Ward published The London Spy, a Hudibrastic sketch of London life. On his way home from a long evening of carousing, the humorous and satirical Ward and his companion meet a group of nocturnal musicians: We heard a noise so dreadful and surprising that we thought the devil was riding on hunting thro’ the City, with a pack of deep-mouth’d hellhounds…. At last bolted out from the corner of a street … a parcel of strange hobgoblins…. Of a sudden they clap’d [their instruments] to their mouths and made such a frightful yelling that I thought the world had been dissolving and the terrible sound of the last trumpet to be within an inch of my ears. Under these amazing apprehensions I ask’d my friend what was the meaning of this infernal outcry? “Prithee,” says he, “… Why, these are the city waits, who play every winter’s night thro’ the streets to rouse each lazy drone to family duty! … These are the topping tooters of the town, and have gowns, silver chains, and salaries, for playing Lilliburlero to my Lord Mayor’s horse thro’ the city.” (Ward 25-26) A curious reader of Ward’s text who wishes to find out more about these revelers will be hard pressed, for the waits are hardly mentioned in medieval and Renaissance scholarship. And a trip to the Oxford English Dictionary reveals a wide variety of definitions for wait: a watchman, a wind instrumentalist, and the wind instrument itself. In the past forty years, only a handful of articles on wait musicians has been published. Recently, however, scholars working on the Records of Early English Drama (REED) have made accessible to us the city records of medieval and Renaissance English towns. These painstakingly collated and edited records provide us with the raw data necessary for accurate-reconstructing the pattern of waits lives and for taking a fresh look at these musicians, not only as individual representatives responsible to a particular community, but as a professional group of multitalented musicians who shared a larger civic and social tradition.

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Early Crusade Songs

By Richard L. Crocker

The Holy War, edited by Thomas Patrick Murphy (Ohio State University Press, 1976)

Introduction: Crusade songs came to us almost entirely from the repertories of the troubadors and trouveres. That in itself seems to be a fact of great importance, for coexisting in the musical spectrum of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries were other important repertories. Alongside the secular, vernacular chant of troubadors and trouveres there was, on the one hand, the Latin sacred chant still cultivated in the monasteries, and, on the other hand, an entirely distinct repertory, that of the new polyphonic or “part-music,” which flourished not at court nor in the monastery but in the great urban cathedrals of the north, especially at Notre Dame de Paris. The remarkable aspect is that—as far as I can determine—this polyphonic repertory has practically no instance of Crusade songs, certainly none as explicitly connected with the Crusades as those we will see here.

Let me explore this situation briefly. In the last half of the twelfth century, polyphony, heretofore practiced on an experimental basis, developed into a systematic musical style with artistic achievement and international recognition. This development took place under stylistic conditions that can be called “Gothic,” that is to say, in an environment shared with Gothic architecture and using musical techniques specifically analogous to those of the new architectural style manifested at Saint Denis, Notre Dame de Paris, and elsewhere. Indeed the center of the new polyphonic art was at Notre Dame and remained in Paris for the next hundred years. This kind of music was characteristically composed and executed by clerics—but not monks—attached to urban cathedrals as permanent musical staff. Sometimes these musicians were associated also with the university, specifically the one on the Left Bank. The kind of music they cultivated required new skills and special training; it could not be sung by a traditional trouvere, and only slowly did it penetrate the courtly environment.

After 1250 we find polyphonic works—motets—with secular vernacular texts and themes of courtly love, but with increasingly bourgeois tone. Up until that point, however, the new polyphony had apparently no contact with the courts, and it would seem that the virtual absence from the polyphonic repertory of references to the Crusades reflected a lack of interest on the part of northern urban, bourgeois, intellectual, and clerical circles. It suggests that the Crusades were simply not a concern of these segments of society, being rather associated with the landed baron and his entourage. The polyphonic repertory abounds with references to contemporary events—and with moral, political, and social satire and criticism, so it is not the case that polyphony was isolated from the world of events. Rather, I would guess it was the courtly trouveres who were becoming isolated: in purely musical terms the future belonged to polyphony, and the monophonic trouvere repertory was about to go out of existence. The same might be true, perhaps, of the social groups these repertories represented.

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By Richard Porterfield
Given at the Metropolitan Museum of Art during their exhibition “Choirs of Angels: Painting in Italian Choir Books, 1300-1500.”
March 22, 2009

This performance and lecture, which took place on Sunday, March 22, 2009, draws the listener into the ethereal world of medieval music. Richard Porterfield, Mannes College instructor and a founding member of the vocal ensemble Lionheart, leads his students from the Schola Cantorum as they perform Gregorian chants from the Met’s collection of illuminated choir book pages. He also discusses the relationship of medieval musical notation to illustration, text, and ritual.