THE STUDY OF THE LATIN HYMNS.
The genealogy of the song of praise in the mediaeval and modern
Christian Church is both simple and beautiful. It begins far back, as we
have seen, in the chants and psalms of the Hebrew. Then it changes to
the Syriac and the Greek. Then it emerges into the Latin. Next it is
caught up in the old High-German poetry, and at length it becomes the
modern English hymn. The line of direct descent is like that of some
high and puissant family whose inheritance is transferred now to one
branch and now to another, but whose noble lineage is never lost.
When the reader or the worshipper is attracted to-day by some ancient
hymn-writer’s name, he naturally asks for information. He is aware that
hymnology is called a branch of study, like any other scholastic
pursuit. He is also aware that the more usual English and German hymns
have their historians, and, to a limited degree, that they have been
analyzed, classified, compared, and their text settled. Even their
impelling causes and surroundings are known, as in the case of the
touching lyrics of George Neumark and Paul Gerhardt, or the pathetic
strains of Cowper, or the stirring notes of Charles Wesley.
But occasionally a bird of strange plumage flies across this peaceful
sky or perches and sings in these religious groves. The name of some
Greek father—an Anatolius or a John of Damascus—appears as the original
author. The hymn-horizon widens out to an earlier age. When one sings
the _Te Deum Laudamus_, he discovers that it has its antecedent in the
Greek liturgy. And when he employs that fine version of Bishop Patrick,
“O God, we praise Thee and confess,”
he is put upon a track of inquiry by which he discerns an even earlier
rendering in the oldest prayer-books, beginning—
“We praise Thee, God, we knowledge Thee
The only Lord to be.”
These little hints and stray gleams of outlook through the mists of
uninformation are intensely alluring. And when by some happy chance it
is learned that this old Latin sequence is traditionally ascribed to
Ambrose, Bishop of Milan; when it is accredited to the spontaneous
utterance of Augustine and his great preceptor at the time of
Augustine’s baptism; when it is noted as a derivative from that Greek
psalmody whence the holy Ambrose obtained so many of his hymns; and when
it opens thus a door into the heaven of the earlier worship of the
Church, then indeed the reader is proportionately stimulated to further
question.
For the most part it will be found that the Latin language contains the
best of the Greek, and the inspiration of the majority of the first
German hymns. In the dead ark of the Middle Ages was kept this rod that
budded and this golden pot with its sacred heavenly food. It is amazing
that this treasure has been so well preserved, but it is none the less
certain that we now have it safely, never to be lost again.
There are no Latin hymns—let us here say—earlier than Hilary of Poitiers
(died 366). His _Hymnarium_ has perished, and all but one of the
compositions attributed to himself are doubtful. The “evening-song”
which he sent to his daughter Abra, while he was in exile among the
followers of the Eastern Church, forms the connecting link between Greek
and Latin hymnody. The true _hymn_—a different thing from the rhythmic
but unmetrical _sequence_—here takes its rise. In this small, pure
fountain-head reappear the percolating praises of the two previous
centuries. The short lines drop with a gentle tinkling melody upon the
ear. As yet there is no rhyme, although there is an occasional
lightening of the lyric by some such verbal art.
But with Ambrose the full stream begins to sweep along. There can be no
doubt that many ungathered and traditional stanzas were in his time
discoverable in the Church—much as it can be observed that phrases in
prayer or in exhortation are the inheritance of our own generation from
days of struggle and of trial among our Christian ancestors. And what
better could a beleaguered bishop do, when he was shut up in a church
“for the word of God and the testimony of Jesus Christ,” than to collate
these old hymns? Twelve possibly—eight, or less, with moderate
certainty—can be regarded as of his own composition. The rest of the
ninety or a hundred are commonly received as “Ambrosian,” since they
share his spirit and partake in some degree of his method. The rules of
the Venerable Bede are not infallible, and modern criticism frequently
rejects what the early collectors are disposed to assign to this single
illustrious source.
Augustine wrote no actual hymns, but he was the cause of hymns in
others—as, notably, in the case of Cardinal Peter Damiani. The Ambrosian
music and the Augustinian theology served for inspiration to many later
men. Yet the assignment of these Latin hymns to their proper authors is,
at the best, a most precarious undertaking. A few, quoted or mentioned
by competent witnesses—as when Augustine quotes Ambrose—seem duly
authentic. This is, however, a rare occurrence. Generally we proceed
upon the mere _dictum_ of the first compilers—especially of Thomasius,
George Fabricius, and Clichtove.
These early compilations are sufficiently scarce. Professor Dr. H. Ad.
Daniel gives a list of some which, except for the books of “the
venerable Thilo” in the Yale Library, are beyond the reach of American
students. Dating from 1492 and running into the first decade of the
sixteenth century there were many “Expositions” of hymns, of which the
work of Clichtove (Basle, 1517) remains to us in the greatest number of
editions. Up to the middle of the present century this book was
practically indispensable to any correct knowledge of the original
texts. Since that time it, as well as every similar work, has received
attention, and its contents have been often reproduced.
Other and later laborers are such as Cardinal Thomasius (Rome, 1741),
who follows upon the traces of George Cassander, the Liberal Catholic
(Paris, 1616). We are possibly more indebted to Cassander than to
Thomasius for the correct designation of a good deal of the authorship.
Both of these editors collate the text with other versions, and thus
prepare the way for later and more accurate work. Both depend to a
notable degree upon the book of George Fabricius (Basle, 1564), which is
quite rare; although Thomasius’ works are said by Daniel to be
sufficiently uncommon in Germany, as they certainly are in America. The
recent republication of the Mozarabic Breviary in J. P. Migne’s
_Patrologia_ brings this volume, however, within easy reach.
Thus we are naturally led to speak of the sources of the hymns
themselves—sources from which these editors have secured them. As a part
of religious worship they were incorporated into the various breviaries,
of which hundreds must have been in use before the unification begun by
the Church of Rome in the sixteenth century. Besides these church books,
there were collections of hymns alone made by mediaeval schools, whose
manuscripts still exist in European libraries.
The only method by which to ascertain the number and extent of these
treasures was to gather and classify them. And strangely enough this
labor has been performed by Protestants rather than by Catholics.
Cassander’s book was forbidden at Rome, as he was what now would be
called an Old Catholic; Luther, George Fabricius, and Hermann Bonn were
in no better odor of sanctity; and for our own times the standard work
is that of Herman Adelbert Daniel, who was a Lutheran professor at
Halle, while close behind him come several others of the same religious
belief.
The necessary and highly difficult task of getting the materials
together has been exhaustively performed. Professor Daniel’s
investigations extended to the original copies in monasteries and abbeys
almost without number. But F. J. Mone enlarged even upon this. Daniel’s
_Thesaurus_ in five volumes was completed in 1856—having been several
years in course of publication—and it stands as yet unrivalled. Mone’s
_Lateinische Hymnen des Mittelalters_ appeared in 1853-55, and was
therefore available for the conclusion of Daniel’s great work. Its value
consists in the fact that it is derived exclusively from manuscripts and
from material hitherto untouched. The Germans, indeed, have made Latin
hymnology a special branch of study, considering that it is profitable
to them for its value religiously and historically. From old Flacius
Illyricus’ appendix to the _Catalogus Testium Veritatis_ has been
recovered the original of Bernard of Cluny’s “Jerusalem the Golden”—a
poem which would never have been known by us if this same Matthias
Flacius had not preserved it as a testimony against the corrupt state of
the Church.
We must then add the German names of Schlosser, and Simrock, and
Fortlage, and Stadelmann, and Jacob Grimm, and Königsfeld, and Bässler,
and Kayser, and Kehrein, and Morel. Wackernagel and Koch, the great
historians of German hymnology, have also done admirable service in
prefixing the Latin hymns to the earlier part of their collections and
histories of German praise. There is a host of lesser names, and there
have been some separate discoveries worthy of note. Thus the English
ritualists, under the lead of Newman and Neale, unearthed some capital
lyrics. The _Hymni Ecclesiae_ of Cardinal J. H. Newman, being half
derived from the Paris Breviary, contain hymns which are scarcely to be
found elsewhere—many of them, as our Index will show, being accessible
only in those pages. The _Sequentiae Medii Aevii_ of Dr. John Mason
Neale also bring to us texts which are extremely scarce. Archbishop
Trench, in his collection of eighty hymns, has avoided anything like
Romanism even to the occasional expurgation of a phrase; but he has
given us a few hymns which are difficult to procure. Königsfeld’s
selection of one hundred is admirable; and Bässler’s and Simrock’s
little books have made a very good choice. More recently still Professor
F. A. March, of Lafayette College, has prepared a selection of one
hundred and fifty of these hymns for the use of institutions of
learning; and this, for every purpose, is the finest and most
satisfactory series of texts at our command. The ordinary student can
learn much from this before he needs to attempt the larger and more
expensive works.
In making an exhaustive index of all the originals before us, these
collections soon dwindle into a very diminutive form. There are about
three thousand five hundred hymns in the various books. And they are of
all sorts—good, bad, and indifferent. The good are the pure and true
utterance of pious spirits—such lyrics as the _Veni, Redemptor_, and the
_Veni, Sancte Spiritus_, and the _Vexilla Regis_. The positively bad are
those which are either poor in execution—a common fault—or decidedly
defective in religious tone. Many so-called “hymns” are nothing but
plagiaries or parodies upon older compositions. Some are debased into
mere patchwork. There are a few which are macaronic, and a great many in
which poverty of phrase is helped out by wholesale pilfering. Moreover,
it is easy to find those which are highly objectionable in point of
taste and theology, to say nothing of prosody or Protestantism. And if
Protestants are principally energetic in restoring and editing these
hymns, to the frank and generous extent of overlooking what is
unpleasant in them, it ought to follow that they should not be blamed
for preferring only those lyrics in which the broad and Christian fervor
of devout souls can be observed.
Of those hymns which are upon the border line, the pathetic _Stabat
Mater_ may stand as an example. It would be bigotry to reject it from
the list—as one compiler has done—while it would certainly not be fair
to Protestants to utilize it, in any close translation, for the worship
of the Church universal.
Perhaps there are not less than from four to five hundred of these
hymns, then, to which no cause of blame can attach—which are as dear to
the Church of the Roman Catholics as to that of the Catholic
Protestants. On such common ground the heartiest sympathy and
co-operation can develop the riches which yet remain. Already it is
Caswall, the priest, and Newman, the cardinal, and Neale, the ritualist,
who have given to our daily praise the happiest versions. It is Ozanam
who has discovered several unknown hymns; and Gautier and Digby S.
Wrangham who have brought out Adam of St. Victor; and the ninety-seven
pieces of Abaelard are reprinted from Cousin’s text in Migne’s
_Patrologia_. The study of these sacred verses has been comparatively
limited in range and nationality, but it has had the incomparable
advantage of being thorough.
Thus we are to-day possessed of the text of every really fine sacred
Latin lyric. Somewhere or other it has bloomed and has been gathered by
some acute hymnologist. The text, too, is tolerably clarified.
Translations into our own tongue have been made by such men as Caswall
and Newman and Neale (who have rendered all the hymns of the Roman
Breviary), and by Mant, Chandler, Pearson, Kynaston, and many others. In
America the Rev. Dr. Washburn, Dr. Coles, and Chancellor Benedict have
been as prolific as any. Scattered renderings have obtained place in
various hymnals. And we are now prepared at last for the general and
popular interest which should be taken in this vast treasure of the
Latin tongue.
Nothing is more surprising than the utter misinformation which prevails.
A few scholars, like Dr. Schaff and Dr. William R. Williams, have
endeavored to illuminate our American darkness. But, speaking only now
of the Latin hymns, the story of their authors remains obscure and the
romantic history of their origin remains for the most part untouched.
Yet Prudentius, the Spaniard, was a classic survival in Spain. And
Damasus, the pope, was associated with certain dramatic scenes. And
Venantius Fortunatus, troubadour and bishop, furnishes us with a most
striking portrait of the times in his attachment to the abbess-queen,
Radegunda. The list presumably includes Elpis, the wife of Boethius, the
“last of the Romans;” and Coelius Sedulius, the Briton; and Gregory the
Great and the great archbishop, Rabanus Maurus, and perhaps Robert II.
of France. It calls into fresh life the histories of the Venerable Bede
and of Alcuin; of the two Bernards, the one of Clairvaux and the other
of Cluny; of Peter the Venerable and of Abaelard and Heloise; of Adam of
St. Victor, and Thomas of Celano; of Bonaventura and Aquinas and à
Kempis and Xavier. It shows us that mad Solomon, poor Jacoponus; and it
leaves us with verses from John Huss, the martyr, to be read by the
light of the Reformation’s dawn.
Thus largely does the subject of the Latin hymns traverse the ages. From
the fourth to the sixteenth centuries of the Christian era it is the one
stream which was fed from Alpine or from Pyrenean snows—a “river of God
that is full of water,” which expands into the stately movement of the
Notkerian and Gottschalkian sequence, or gently murmurs its song of
trust with the missionary Xavier as he writes the exquisite melody of
that hymn, _O Deus, ego amo te!_ To understand and to love these lyrics
is to be better fitted for this nineteenth century of praise. Not the
persecutors and the injurious, not the cruel and the cold-hearted will
then remain to us; but the _Dies Irae_ will utter its trumpet-voice
above the dead phrases of a formal service, and the _Salve caput
cruentatum_ will call us afresh to the foot of the cross.