The history of Psalm-singing is a portion of the history of the
Reformation,--of that great religious revolution which separated for
ever, into two unequal divisions, the establishment of Christianity. It
has not, perhaps, been remarked that psalm-singing, or metrical psalms,
degenerated into those scandalous compositions which, under the abused
title of _hymns_, are now used by some sects.[300] These are evidently
the last disorders of that system of psalm-singing which made some
religious persons early oppose its practice. Even Sternhold and Hopkins,
our first psalm-inditers, says honest Fuller, "found their work
afterwards met with some frowns in the faces of great clergymen." To
this day these opinions are not adjusted. Archbishop Secker observes,
that though the first Christians (from this passage in James v. 13, "Is
any merry? let him sing psalms!") made singing a constant part of their
worship, and the whole congregation joined in it; yet afterwards the
singers by profession, who had been _prudently appointed to lead and
direct them_, by degrees USURPED the whole performance. But at the
Reformation _the people were restored to their_ RIGHTS! This
revolutionary style is singular: one might infer by the expression of
_the people being restored to their rights_, that a mixed assembly
roaring out confused tunes, nasal, guttural, and sibilant, was a more
orderly government of psalmody than when the executive power was
consigned to the voices of those whom the archbishop had justly
described as having been first _prudently appointed to lead and direct
them_; and who, by their subsequent proceedings, evidently discovered,
what they might have safely conjectured, that such an universal
suffrage, where every man was to have a voice, must necessarily end in
clatter and chaos.[301]
Thomas Warton, however, regards the metrical psalms of Sternhold as a
puritanic invention, and asserts, that notwithstanding it is said in
their title-page that they are "set forth and _allowed_ to be sung in
all churches," they were never admitted by lawful authority. They were
first introduced by the Puritans, from the Calvinists of Geneva, and
afterwards continued by connivance. As a true poetical antiquary, Thomas
Warton condemns any _modernisation_ of the venerable text of the old
Sternhold and Hopkins, which, by changing obsolete for familiar words,
destroys the texture of the original style; and many stanzas, already
too naked and weak, like a plain old Gothic edifice stripped of its few
signatures of antiquity, have lost that little and almost only strength
and support which they derived from ancient phrases. "Such alterations,
even if executed with prudence and judgment, only corrupt what they
endeavour to explain; and exhibit a motley performance, belonging to no
character of writing, and which contains more improprieties than those
which it professes to remove." This forcible criticism is worthy of our
poetical antiquary; the same feeling was experienced by Pasquier, when
Marot, in his _Rifacciamento_ of the Roman de la Rose, left some of the
obsolete phrases, while he got rid of others; _cette bigarrure de
langage vieux et moderne_, was with him writing no language at all. The
same circumstance occurred abroad, when they resolved to retouch and
modernise the old French metrical version of the Psalms, which we are
about to notice. It produced the same controversy and the same
dissatisfaction. The church of Geneva adopted an _improved_ version, but
the charm of the old one was wanting.
To trace the history of modern metrical psalmody, we must have recourse
to Bayle, who, as a mere literary historian, has accidentally preserved
it. The inventor was a celebrated French poet; and the invention, though
perhaps in its very origin inclining towards the abuse to which it was
afterwards carried, was unexpectedly adopted by the austere Calvin, and
introduced into the Geneva discipline. It is indeed strange, that while
he was stripping religion not merely of its pageantry, but even of its
decent ceremonies, this levelling reformer should have introduced this
taste for _singing_ psalms in opposition to _reading_ psalms. "On a
parallel principle," says Thomas Warton, "and if any artificial aids to
devotion were to be allowed, he might at least have retained the use of
pictures in the church." But it was decreed that statues should be
mutilated of "their fair proportions," and painted glass be dashed into
pieces, while the congregation were to sing! Calvin sought for
proselytes among "the rabble of a republic, who can have no relish for
the more elegant externals." But to have made men sing in concert, in
the streets, or at their work, and, merry or sad, on all occasions to
tickle the ear with rhymes and touch the heart with emotion, was
betraying no deficient knowledge of human nature.
It seems, however, that this project was adopted accidentally, and was
certainly promoted by the fine natural genius of Clement Marot, the
favoured bard of Francis the First, that "prince of poets and that poet
of princes," as he was quaintly but expressively dignified by his
contemporaries. Marot is still an inimitable and true poet, for he has
written in a manner of his own with such marked felicity, that he has
left his name to a style of poetry called _Marotique_. The original La
Fontaine is his imitator. Marot delighted in the very forms of poetry,
as well as its subjects and its manner. His life, indeed, took more
shapes, and indulged in more poetical licences, than even his poetry.
Licentious in morals,--often in prison, or at court, or in the army, or
a fugitive, he has left in his numerous little poems many a curious
record of his variegated existence. He was indeed very far from being
devout, when his friend, the learned Vatable, the Hebrew professor,
probably to reclaim a perpetual sinner from profane rhymes, as Marot was
suspected of heresy (confession and meagre days being his abhorrence),
suggested the new project of translating the Psalms into _French verse_,
and no doubt assisted the bard; for they are said to be "traduitz en
rithme Français selon la verité Hébraique." The famous Theodore Beza was
also his friend and prompter, and afterwards his continuator. Marot
published fifty-two Psalms, written in a variety of measures, with the
same style he had done his ballads and rondeaux. He dedicated his work
to the King of France, comparing him with the royal Hebrew, and with a
French compliment!
Dieu le _donna_ aux peuples Hébraïques;
Dieu te _devoit_, ce pensé-je, aux Galliques.