THE RISE OF THE NETHERLAND SCHOOLS
The Netherland style; the Ars Nova; Machault and the Paris school;
the papal ban on figured music--The Gallo-Belgian school; early
English polyphony; John Dunstable; Dufay and Binchois; other
Gallo-Belgians--Okeghem and his school--Josquin des Près; merits of
the Netherland schools.
I
We have already discussed the origins of polyphony and the condition of
secular popular music in the dim periods of the Middle Ages. We shall
confine ourselves in this chapter for the most part to the development
of polyphony, the art of music within the church, not because it was
only within the church that polyphony was perfected, but because the
art can be most easily and consistently traced in church music. None
of the great composers whose importance we shall discuss restricted
himself only to religious music, but all gave the greater part of
their energy thereto, and most of the available knowledge of music
from 1300 to 1600 is related to the church. It must not be forgotten,
on the other hand, that secular music exerted a vigorous influence
upon ecclesiastical music, an influence constantly combatted by the
church authorities, yet constantly triumphant. The two styles acted and
reacted upon each other in a manner which may be observed at various
periods of musical history.
The study of the development of music from 1300 to 1600 is largely the
study of the art or science of polyphony. Polyphony, or counterpoint,
is primarily the art of combining two or more voice parts so that they
shall maintain their independent character and individual interest,
and still harmonize with each other. Early musical notes were written
as dots, or points, one voice under or _against_ another, whereby the
term _contra punctum_, meaning simply note against note, originated.
As has been previously explained, the first or more important melody,
called subject, theme, or _cantus firmus_, was generally placed in the
tenor, so called from _tenere_ (to hold), on account of its holding
the melody: and the addition of one or more melodies to the cantus
firmus, or theme, under strict rules and regulations, is the art of
counterpoint.[84]
One of the most important devices for enhancing interest in the
principal melody is known as 'imitation’; that is, the repetition of
a theme or phrase, or parts thereof, either at a different pitch from
the original, or in a different voice part, with or without rhythmic
or other modifications, which, however, must not be so great as to
destroy the resemblance. Combining, as it does, variety with unity of
impression, and offering the composer opportunity for the display of
great ingenuity, the art of imitation grew rapidly in importance, and
became one of the chief and most characteristic beauties of polyphonic
writing.[85] To trace the growth of that style of writing, which has
been called the Netherland style, is our present purpose.
In Chapter VI we traced the beginnings of polyphony in the stiff
organum, and the growth of the so-called mensural system by which all
music was reduced to triple rhythm and bound by mathematical laws,
indifferent to beauty, relentlessly rigid and monotonous. During this
period the musical centre of Europe was Paris, where the organists
of Notre Dame were the most influential composers. Here the reaction
against the system found voice in theoretical discussion, though this
again was probably only the reflection of what had been going on in
actual practice, both in France and elsewhere. Indeed, it is claimed
by some writers (notably Riemann) that certain composers of Florence,
under the direct influence of Troubadour song, were the first to
throw off the fetters of musical dogma; England, too, has a serious
claim for priority in the new movement,[86] which was influenced
everywhere by the spontaneous florescence of secular song. But the name
_ars nova_, by which the reform was designated by its protagonists
in contradistinction to the _ars antiqua_ of their Franconian
predecessors, has led historians to connect it with the probable author
of the treatise entitled 'The Ars Nova.’ Philippe de Vitry, bishop
of Meaux (1290-1361), is said to be the author of this treatise, as
well as of several others dealing with measured music, 'proportions’
and the relative value of the symbols of notation. In it he advocates
counterpoint for several voices, rhythmic variety of a free use of
chromatic alterations. None of his own compositions has been preserved
to us, however. Another writer, known by the name of Jean de Muris,
left several works of similarly radical character. He is not to be
confused, however, with a theorist of the same name designated as 'the
Norman,’ who taught at the Sorbonne from 1321 on, and whose teaching
was so conservative as really to constitute a reaction against the new
method--the ars nova. This effort toward freedom was characterized,
first by the reintroduction of duple time into church music, in
which triple time, on account of its symbolistic connection with the
Trinity, had long held the field; secondly, by the emancipation of
individual voices by means of a greater variety of rhythm; thirdly,
by the prohibition of parallel octaves and fifths;[87] and lastly,
by the differentiation between half and full cadences,[88] which, in
homophonic music--in plain-chant and in secular song--had long been
recognized.
The introduction of the natural duple rhythm into music written for the
church demanded the addition of new signs to the mensural system of
notation (cf. Chap. VI, pp. 177 ff.), for it was necessary that singers
should be informed whether they were to sing according to the triple
or double scheme. Thus there appear about this period new time signs.
Of these a semi-breve, still called, by the way, _tempus perfectum_
circle, [music sign], signified the division of the breve into three
or perfect time. A half-circle, [music sign], signified
the division of the breve into two semi-breves, and this was imperfect
time. A dot within the circle or the half-circle, [music sign] [music
sign], indicated that the semi-breve was to be divided into three
minims, but without the dot the semi-breve equalled only two minims.
The three-part division of the semi-breve constituted major prolation,
the two-part, minor prolation. Perfect or imperfect time was sung
twice as fast if the time sign was cut by a line, [music sign] [music
sign]. The second of these cut signs still survives in the modern
sign, [music sign], signifying _alla breve_ time. It appears likely
that De Vitry himself was the first to think of using colored notes to
signify still another genus of rhythmical subdivision called _proportio
hemiolia_; and that he was the first to use the term _contrapunctus_,
or counterpoint, instead of descant.
Through lack of actual examples of the period we are unable to tell
how thoroughly and readily church composers adopted the methods
of the _ars nova_, but eventually their advocacy was of momentous
importance. It is true that secular music was the first to benefit by
the advance, for it preserved naturally all the elements which the new
law purposed to regulate. Hence the first form--that which constitutes
the first ground of interaction, the transition to the polyphonic
form of church music--was the popular _chanson_, an elementary form
of song, evidently developed from the _canson_ and the ballad of
the Troubadours, etc., which, as we know, were composed for a solo
voice with an improvised instrumental accompaniment. According to
Riemann this development of the chanson first went forward in Italy,
in connection with the movement known as the Florentine ars nova,
a detailed account of which we have chosen to reserve for our next
chapter. The Italian ars nova, which is held by modern historians
to have influenced the French ars nova in various ways, and to have
transmitted to it a style of composition in which the upper voice
was freely invented and harmonically interpreted--though in a rude
manner--by the accompanying voice or voices, a style which by 1400 was
fully developed. These chansons were, it should be noted, like their
prototype, chiefly for one solo voice with instrumental accompaniment
and varied by instrumental preludes, interludes, and postludes. Purely
vocal polyphony in chansons was rare before 1500, though examples
of an elementary kind of part-songs have also been preserved, and,
as the polyphonic style advanced, these eventually superseded the
instrumentally accompanied solo (monodic song).
Meantime, however, the church had fallen heir to these primarily
_secular_ inspirations and developed under the rules of the ars nova
a freer contrapuntal style, whose chief vehicles were the Mass and
the Motet, forms whose general characteristics have been explained
in previous chapters. Characteristic of this new polyphony is the
so-called _imitative_ style, whose real origin has never been
discovered and which is the distinguishing feature of the schools
about to be discussed. The first indications of this imitative, or
Netherland, style are found in the works of Jehannot Lescurel and
Guillaume de Machault (d. _ca._ 1372).
Machault is the composer of the first known four-part mass, which was
performed at the coronation of Charles V, in 1360. It must be admitted
that this is not a very good specimen, even of early polyphony. The
parallel octaves and fifths already prohibited by musical authorities
had no terrors for Machault, and his discords amount to nothing less
than cacophony. It is a historical landmark, however, and serves as
a starting point from which to trace the development of contrapuntal
methods. In justice to Machault it should perhaps be said that he was
a much better poet than composer, and his verses deserve a higher rank
than this music, which includes, besides the mass, two and three-part
chansons rondeaux and motets.
For some years longer Paris continued to be, as it had been for more
than two hundred years, the musical centre of Europe. The prestige
it had held so long was lost, ultimately, not only through an actual
decline of original power, but through an abuse of the power they
possessed. The standards of the old organ masters of Notre Dame, if
somewhat dry, were at least scholarly; but we begin to see, in the
early fourteenth century, a deterioration, and a tendency among singers
to make a display of their ability in improvisation. Canons and rounds
of that time, and even long after, were written in a kind of shorthand,
understood, presumably, by every trained singer, but nevertheless
giving some freedom of judgment to the performer, which was easily
abused. The first phrase of the cantus firmus was usually written
out; after this a few signs in Latin, meaning nothing to the modern
musician unskilled in the mysteries of this art, would indicate the
time of entrance and relative pitch for the other voices. Imitation was
almost continuously in use; the 'accidentals’ of modern notation were
but rarely indicated, even as late as the time of Palestrina, and the
'key signature’ of the present day was unknown. However, the training
of the chapel singers was such as to give a thorough knowledge of the
use of accidentals and of the musical symbols of the time. Intricate
rules for their guidance were laid down; but, carried away by the flood
of new ideas, and unrestrained by scholarly fastidiousness, many of
them indulged in liberties which loaded down the pure melody of the
venerable plain-chant with inappropriate ornamentations, and often
rendered it hopelessly unrecognizable.
In protest against these unwarranted melismas and tasteless innovations
of singers, especially of the cathedral choirs and of the papal chapel,
the famous bull of 1322 was issued by Pope John XXII. It was not a
protest, primarily, either against the popular faux-bourdon, which was
generally in use until after the return of the papacy to Rome (1377),
or the contrapuntal school, _per se_. It was certainly not against
the methods of the ars nova, as is proved by the use of certain
technical terms peculiar to the _ars antiqua_. It is against the
abuses of the latter school, the obscuring of the plain-song melodies
and the violation of the spirit of church music by frivolous rhythmic
variations, ornamentation, and juggling with counter melodies, often of
profane character. Many other protests of a like nature came from the
papal chair during the next two hundred and fifty years; and we shall
have occasion to see, in a later chapter, the result of the struggle
between religious decorum, on the one hand, and, on the other, the
vagaries of the artistic mind in the throes of development.
Yet it must be granted that the masters of the old French school
deserve no small credit for their scientific and practical labors.
During the time of their ascendancy the resources of notation were
increased, double counterpoint was cultivated, a greater freedom in
metre and rhythm was introduced, the several voices became more nearly
independent, and an extraordinary degree of attention was paid to the
problems involved in mensuration. They failed, however, in reaching a
point at which true artistic composition, in the larger sense, begins.
'Of symmetrical arrangement, based upon the lines of a preconceived
design, they had no idea. Their highest aspirations extended no farther
than the enrichment of a given melody with such harmonies as they were
able to improvise at a moment’s notice: whereas composition, properly
so called, depends, for its existence, upon the invention--or, at
least, upon the selection--of a definite musical idea, which the genius
of the composer presents, now in one form, and now in another, until
the exhaustive discussion of its various aspects produces a work of
art, as consistent, in its integrity, as the conduct of a scholastic
thesis, or a dramatic poem.’[89]
It was this very quality of design which distinguished the work of the
Flemish composers, who, about the middle of the fourteenth century,
gained the dominating position among European musicians.
II
With the decline of the old French school the musical leadership of
Europe passed into the hands of the Early Netherlanders, called by some
historians the Gallo-Belgian School, which flourished, roughly, from
the middle of the fourteenth to the middle of the fifteenth century.
It will be remembered that the fourteenth century was an epoch of
great prosperity in the Netherlands. The ancient nobility had lost
power, while the towns, with their astute and far-seeing traders,
had acquired extraordinary strength. Earlier many serfs had been
enfranchised, and thus a large body of sturdy workers was liberated
into the independent trades and soon became wealthier and more powerful
than the nobles. The trade guilds and burghers were uncompromising in
resisting the encroachments both of the feudal lords and of the Church,
and were, therefore, enabled to turn their energies toward commerce
and agriculture, unchecked by the influences of a corrupt government.
Great factories flourished, vessels of Dutch merchants plied their
trade in nearly every sea, population, wealth, and intelligence
increased. The ancient towns, Bruges, Louvain, Antwerp, Ghent, Ypres,
still bear testimony to these days of prosperity in their magnificent
examples, not of ecclesiastical architecture, as in Italy, but of
splendid structures for municipal and domestic use. It was among these
prosperous and music-loving people that the art of contrapuntal writing
was nourished. They did not invent or create polyphony, as has long
been believed; but they found pleasure in the fact that the principles
of music could be reduced to laws and rules, and the more intricate the
rules, the more the true Netherlanders delighted in them. In fact, it
was this very tendency that smothered polyphony itself, in course of
time; but not before a vast amount of systematized knowledge had been
preserved for their successors.
The service of the Pope’s chapel up to the time of its return to Rome
from Avignon in 1377 was sung in faux-bourdon, or in the still older
method of extemporaneous descant. Ecclesiastical records show that,
after the return to Rome, several Belgian musicians were among the
singers in the papal choir. These brought with them, along with other
music, the first masses written in counterpoint that had ever been seen
there. Among the Belgians in Rome, in the early fifteenth century,
was a tenor singer named William Dufay, born probably in Chimay, in
Hainault, about 1400. There has been much misapprehension concerning
Dufay, owing to the fact that Baini, an Italian historian (1775-1844),
gave, erroneously, the probable date of his death as 1432. Recent
researches, however, especially those of Sir John Stainer, have thrown
much light on the life and work of Dufay, and enabled historians to
understand facts which hitherto had seemed irreconcilable.
According to this recent authority, Dufay received his musical
education as chorister in the cathedral at Cambrai, which in the
fifteenth century belonged to the Netherlands. It is famous as the seat
of the archbishopric of Fénelon and of Dubois, and for its ancient
cathedral. According to contemporary evidence, the music of the Cambrai
cathedral was considered 'the most beautiful in Europe.’[90]
It was but natural, then, that the papal choir at Rome should draw what
singers it could from Cambrai. It appears that Dufay entered it as the
youngest member in 1428 and remained five years. After a break he was
again appointed in the following decade, when he remained but a short
period. It was at the time a frequent custom for the church to reward
whom it would by ecclesiastical appointments, allowing the holder
of office to reside elsewhere. According to this custom, Dufay was
appointed to the canonries of Cambrai and Mons, both of which offices
he held till his death, though he removed to Savoy about 1437 and
travelled somewhat in the interests of his art. He died at a great age
in 1474. His will is still preserved in the archives of Cambrai, and in
it, among other items, he bequeaths money to the Cambrai altar boys.
He is buried in the chapel of St. Etienne, beneath a stone he himself
caused to be made, which, though mutilated, is still in existence. One
of his last desires was that a certain motet of his own composition be
sung at his deathbed.
The chief source of our knowledge of Dufay’s early works is the 'MS.
_Canonici misc._ 213’ in the Bodleian library at Oxford, compiled not
later than 1436, a portion of which has recently been explained and
given to the public by Sir John Stainer.[91] The MS. represents the
period of transition from Machault to Dufay, including the early works
of the latter. They are mostly in the old mensural (black) notation,
and show an unusual proportion of secular pieces. Transcriptions
and solutions of sixty of them, belonging to the period 1400-1441,
are given by Stainer. Most of the pieces are dry in melody and show
occasional harsh discords; but they also exhibit examples of fugal form
and some crude attempts at expression. They are quite lacking in a
certain sweetness of harmony characteristic of his later works, which
has been traced to the influence of his famous English contemporary,
John Dunstable. It appears advisable, therefore, to consider here the
condition of music in England which is thus to make itself felt upon
the course of music in general.
Though the twelfth and thirteenth centuries do not, in England, show
well-defined groups of musicians working toward a common end, such as
constitute a 'school’ in the accepted sense, there can be no doubt that
the English were ahead of their time in the early days of polyphony
and that English music strongly influenced composers on the continent.
Indeed a very considerable case for the actual origin of polyphony in
England has been made out by recent historians of great authority,
and the case is supported by the famous old English canon, 'Sumer is
i-cumen in’--one of the earliest extant examples of polyphonic music.
The date of this interesting composition is given by Rockstro[92]
as not later than 1250. It is a charming melody, composed to a gay,
naïve poem, in the form of a round, or canon, for six voices, and is
supposed to have been written by John Fornsete, a monk of Reading.
In some measures the parallel fifths and octaves show the influence
of diaphony, while in others there is excellent counterpoint which
might have been written at least a hundred and fifty years later. The
imitation is not confined to short phrases, but is consistently carried
through in the four upper voices to the close, over two independent
basses. The harmony is rather limited, the F major chord being in
great preponderance: but, on the whole, the canon shows a high degree
of skill in polyphonic writing. It is, in short, a remarkable example
of the working out of an inspired folk song with two systems of part
writing, which, so far as we know, were not contemporaneous.
One explanation of this apparent anomaly is that the composition,
originally the work of a song writer of great natural genius, was
later edited or corrected by a learned musician. Parallel octaves and
fifths were not considered offensive in the thirteenth century, and
such a learned scholar might easily have let them pass, while lifting
other parts of the music to an artistic form considerably in advance
of popular taste. It has been supposed, on the other hand, that the
composition is really the single accidentally preserved specimen
of a whole musical literature, which has otherwise been lost. In
support of this latter theory it is urged that the art of imitation,
as illustrated in the canon, must have reached a point of excellence
beyond anything existing in France or Belgium at the time, and could
only have been the product of a well-defined school. However the case
may be, the song remains, an isolated but for its time brilliant
example testifying to the freshness, vitality, and beauty of early
English music.
It should be added that, under the auspices of the 'Plain-song and
Mediæval Music Society’ of England, researches have been carried on,
resulting in the publication of two volumes,[93] the first containing
photographic reproductions of sixty of the most notable examples of
English harmonized music prior to the fifteenth century, the second
transcriptions thereof into modern musical notation, with explanatory
notes. The majority of the examples are written for two voices, and
some for three: none of these, however, can compare, in regard to
workmanship, with the 'Sumer’ canon, which is also included in the
collection.
Not until the beginning of the fifteenth century do we find actual
evidence of a school, and it is interesting to note the points
of resemblance between it and the first Netherland school. Both
are characterized by a reliance on the plain-chant melody, by a
conventional opening, a lack of sensitiveness to discords, an avoidance
of the third in the closing chord, and an absence of harmonic effects.
Compared with the old French school, however, they show a genuine
progress in the abolition of the harsher discords, the use of the third
in cadences not final, and in the more frequent employment of imitation.
Representatives of the early English school, it is important to note,
were divided into two distinct branches, one remaining for the most
part on English soil, while the other identified itself almost wholly
with continental schools, and, in respect to style, seems to belong
to them. In this latter group was John Dunstable, born about 1390, in
Dunstable, England. He died in 1453, and is buried in St. Stephen’s,
Walbrock, where an epitaph was said to be inscribed on 'two faire
plated stones in the Chancell, each by other.’ Another, written by the
Abbot of St. Albans, is headed:
'Upon John Dunstable, an astrologian,
A mathematician, a musitian, and what not,’
and the six lines of elegiac Latin which follow bestow upon him
heartfelt praise.
Dunstable was a writer of songs both sacred and secular. One of
the latter, _O Rosa bella_, was discovered in the Vatican in 1847,
and is one of the most beautiful specimens of the age. Of the two
compositions in the possession of the British Museum, one is a sort of
musical enigma, a form of composition quite in vogue among the later
Netherlanders. The other is a work in three parts of some length,
without words, and is found in a splendid volume of MS. music formerly
belonging to Henry VIII. Four sacred compositions, two songs, and two
motets are in the archives of the Liceo Filarmonico of Bologna.
Even with these few examples of his work, Dunstable’s reputation as a
great musician seems to rest on solid ground. More than half a dozen
interesting references to him are made in contemporaneous European
writings, among them being one by Tinctoris, a Belgian theorist
and composer (1445-1511), and another by a French verse-writer, who
compares Dufay, Binchois, and Dunstable as song writers, to the
advantage of the Englishman. The passage from Tinctoris refers to
England as the _fons et origo_ of counterpoint, and cites Dunstable as
her chief composer.
Absurd mistakes have crept into the commentaries upon Dunstable. One
early writer, Sebald Heyden (1540), claimed that he was the inventor of
counterpoint, and another identified him with St. Dunstan. These and
other errors were handed down by subsequent writers, until Ambros, in
his _Musikgeschichte_, set most of them right. Of course counterpoint
was not, and in the nature of things could not be, the invention of any
one man. It was built up gradually, one school contributing a little
here, another there, until a comprehensive system was formed.
In England Dunstable’s name was either little known or else it was soon
forgotten; for it fails to appear in an important work, _Scriptores
Britanniæ_, published in 1550, scarcely a century after his death. From
the fact that all but two of his extant compositions are in continental
libraries, and that his reputation, during his lifetime, was evidently
far greater in Europe than in England, it is supposed that most of his
life was spent abroad. Since none of Dunstable’s compositions appear in
the 'MS. Canonici,’ it is evident that his fame was not established in
Europe when the collection was made (not later than 1436). Contemporary
references to him, however, begin to appear about that time, or shortly
after; and it is a remarkable fact that the compositions of Dufay,
which are known to have been written after this date, show a marked
advance both in contrapuntal skill and in style over those contained
in the 'MS Canonici.’ In face of the facts that Dunstable was not only
an older contemporary of Dufay and Binchois, but that he was also an
excellent master of counterpoint and style, it is, therefore, not
unreasonable to assume that he was one of the important sources upon
which these Gallo-Belgians drew for their instruction and inspiration.
Like the Netherland composers, Dunstable shows a lack of variety and
a failure to adapt his music to the sentiments of the words: but he
far surpasses them in sweetness and beauty. His works are among the
earliest to exhibit a design founded upon resources other than the
plain-chant melodies of the Church. He was capable of writing learned
musical puzzles, thus foreshadowing the frequent practice of the
Netherlanders of the next century; but he also wrote in lighter vein
with charm and purity, and definitely renounced the harsh discords
employed by Machault and others. It is with good reason, therefore,
that scholars have predicated, from these facts, the influence of
Dunstable upon the early Netherlanders, even though, in his native
land, we find no trace of his teachings until they were imported later
from the Low Countries.
Through Dunstable, therefore, we are led back to Dufay and his
contemporaries, and the real significance of this first Netherland
school. The writers belonging to it were for centuries buried under the
fame of the later Flemish composers, Okeghem and his pupils. As will
be seen, however, Dufay is to be reckoned, not only as an important
pioneer in the strikingly brilliant achievements of the Netherlanders,
but also as the actual founder of a school. Learned and well versed
in the musical science of his day, he possessed furthermore that
indefinable touch of genius which enables a man to build a little
higher than his forerunners, and leave art enriched by his labors. A
large number of his compositions have been recovered, among them being
fifty-nine secular songs, thirty-six sacred songs, eight whole masses,
and about twenty sections, or movements, of masses. One hundred and
fifty compositions were discovered by Haberl alone, hidden in the
archives of Bologna, Rome, and Trieste. Masses and portions of masses
are in the Brussels Library, others at Cambrai, still others in the
Paris library, and in Munich a motet for three voices.
The oldest datable work is a chanson, _Resveillies vous et faites
chiere lye_, written in honor of the marriage of Charles Malatesta,
Lord of Pesaro, and Vittoria Colonna, in 1415. Dufay was one of the
first composers to use the unfilled white notes, and it is believed
that he introduced other changes in notation. He deserves great credit
for discarding, in his later works, the empty fourths and fifths,
as well as the parallel fifths, which still disfigured the music of
some of the ablest composers of the early fifteenth century. We find,
furthermore, in Dufay a more developed, though not very extended,
canonic treatment of voices; and, again, there is occasionally
noticeable a strong tendency toward expression, as, for example, in the
mass, _Ecce Ancilla_, which is even more interesting on account of its
harmonic character. Moreover, after he settled at Cambrai in 1436--that
is, after Dunstable’s European fame was established--a new conception,
similar to that found in the English composer’s works, seems to animate
his compositions. His dry methods change, the different voices become
more melodious, the harsher discords disappear, and the use of canon
grows more frequent.
The feature of Dufay’s epoch, however, which had a most far-reaching
effect, and one which, incidentally, brought the wrath of fifteenth
century critics upon his head, was the practice of using in the mass
secular melodies in place of the Gregorian cantus firmus. For example,
the folk songs, _Tant je me déduis_, _Se la face ay pale_, and _L’omme
armé_, were incorporated as 'subjects’ in a number of masses, which
were named after the tunes. The absolute invention of new subjects was
foreign to composers of that day, and such familiar tunes, repeated
in the various parts of the mass, supplied a familiar nucleus, while
the composer’s ingenuity found ample play in weaving about it manifold
figures and phrases. This was decidedly a new departure, and one that
could not be agreeable to the Church. But the new fashion was no sooner
set than other composers eagerly took it up. Dufay’s pupils adopted
it and passed it on to the later Netherlanders, who in turn handed it
down to the Romans. _L’omme armé_ became such a favorite for the mass
that the younger Gallo-Belgians, Faugues and Caron, the Netherlanders
Josquin and Lasso, and even the Roman Palestrina, in his early work,
made use of it. In appropriating these secular melodies usually only
the beginning was employed, and around this were woven contrapuntal
devices. In this manner the new melody acquired almost the importance
of a theme. Imitation of one part by another, at a greater or less
interval of time, is, at present, so inevitably a characteristic
feature of every musical composition of a higher order that it is
difficult to imagine a time when it was far from being an obvious or
necessary element. The invention of this art was for long attributed to
Okeghem and his school; though it is now apparent that it was not only
practised fifty years earlier by Dufay, but that it was already used
as early as 1250, as is seen in the now famous canon 'Sumer is i-cumen
in,’ which has been mentioned above.
This epoch of the activity of the Gallo-Belgians resulted in the firm
establishment of what might be called the Netherland style. Technical
ingenuity was exalted over beauty of sound; the use of martial tunes
and love songs, some of them accompanied by most indiscreet words,
prevailed in the mass as long as the old polyphony lasted; and the art
of canon, although as yet limited and crude, took its place among the
indispensable adjuncts of all musical composition.
Of the three composers of this period who are frequently mentioned
together by the old writers, two have already been briefly discussed.
The third, Giles Binchois, born about 1400, died in 1460, seven years
after Dunstable and fourteen years before Dufay. First a soldier,
then a priest, Binchois became _chaplain-chantre_ to Duke Philip of
Burgundy in 1452. Like Dufay, he was appointed non-resident canon
of the cathedral at Mons. Twenty-eight of his compositions are in
the 'MS. Canonici,’ of which all but one are secular. Six songs and
two motets in the Munich library have also been recently discovered
and transcribed by Dr. Hugo Riemann. Among Binchois’ extant works
are also about a dozen sacred songs and six parts of masses. Like
his contemporaries of the same school, Binchois was somewhat more
interested in technical performance than in expression. Tinctoris
mentions him with great praise as a composer whose fame would endure
forever. It is evident, also, from the testimony of contemporary
writers, that both Dufay and Binchois were widely celebrated as masters
and teachers of counterpoint.
Another Gallo-Belgian, Eloy, born about 1400, produced a mass for five
voices, a rarity for that time. This work, called _Dixerunt discipuli_,
is in the Vatican library. Many of the pupils of Dufay and Binchois,
among whom were Busnois, Caron, Faugues, Basiron, and Obrecht, became
more or less celebrated in their time, and constituted a kind of second
generation or transitional school between the first, or Gallo-Belgian,
and the later Netherland schools. Growing more familiar with the
resources of the contrapuntal method, they improved upon the work of
their masters, while adhering, in essentials, to their precepts. Dufay
and Binchois, for instance, usually imitated the pattern either in
unison or the octave; their followers used also the canon in the fifth,
and carried it out with more skill. They discovered the construction of
chords, though they still had no idea of rational chord progressions.
Busnois, especially, was a more skillful harmonist than Dufay. His fame
spread to Italy, and Petrucci[94] included a number of his songs in
one of his earliest publications, about 1503. Among these pieces is a
four-part chanson, _Dieu quel mariage_, which, according to Naumann,
is remarkable, not only for the refinement of its harmony, but also on
account of its masterly treatment of the melody. This is placed partly
in the tenor and partly in the alto--a novel feature for the time--with
no disturbance of the free motion and canonic flow of the other two
parts. Busnois had also more skill in design than Dufay, actually
employing the beginning of the melody as a theme, and building upon it
the whole canonic structure of the voices.
The spirit of change was upon the art of music, as it had been in turn
upon architecture, poetry, and painting. Dry outlines were giving
place to greater fullness of detail, to greater richness of coloring,
harmony, and expression; but, even as music was the last of the arts to
be affected by the renascent vitality of the late Middle Ages, so it
was slow in travelling the tortuous course of technical difficulties
which had to be conquered before true beauty of expression could
be reached. Nevertheless, even at this time, music was a real art,
possessing laws, modes of diction, and even traditions. Though it
revealed its youthfulness in its limitations and crudeness it was by
no means chaotic. The music of the mass already showed definite signs
of form. There was a shadowy idea of key distribution, and efforts to
arrive at a satisfactory method of modulation are evident on every
hand. The compositions of the time begin to show a love of variety and
contrast, together with extreme regularity in the matter of rhythm.
During this time also it is clear that in some forms of secular music,
at least, instrumental accompaniments were used. Sometimes songs, and
even motets, were played and not sung; again, instruments were counted
upon to assist the voices through difficult passages. The major seventh
was not considered unvocal, but the compass of both instruments and
voices was exceedingly limited. On every hand efforts were made to
break through the bonds of old tradition. In these and other matters it
is plain that our first Netherlander had left the Troubadour Machault
far behind.
III
The next important advance in the art of polyphony is associated with
the name of Johannes Okeghem,[95] to whom the leadership in the art of
music passed at the death of Dufay, in 1474. Like many other musicians
of the time, Okeghem was trained as a choir boy, being one of the
fifty-three choristers in the cathedral at Antwerp just before the
middle of the century. About twenty years later we find him in Paris
as royal chapel master, in great favor with King Louis the Eleventh.
He travelled to Spain at the King’s expense, and later, about 1484,
revisited his native country, where he was received at Bruges with
great ceremony. It is evident, therefore, that his fame was already
well established during the lifetime of the older master, Dufay, to
whose mantle he fell heir at about the age of forty-five. It is thought
that during the latter period of his life he resided at Tours, where
he died in 1495. It is most likely that he was a pupil of Binchois,
rather than of Dufay.
The extant compositions of this master are seventeen masses, seven
motets, nineteen chansons, and a number of canons. One mass is in
the possession of the papal chapel, and five of the chansons were
published by Petrucci early in the sixteenth century, not long after
Okeghem’s death. The _Missa cujusvis toni_ was used for many years
in the cathedral at Munich, where the MS., with corrections made by
the singers themselves, still exists. Another mass, _Deo gratia_, has
become one of the curiosities of musical history, from the fact that it
is written for thirty-six parts, with a nine-fold canon.
It may be said at once that Okeghem’s celebrity, and his important
place in the history of polyphony, rest upon two things: his remarkable
influence as a teacher, and the fact that under him and his pupils
the canonic style, in extremely ingenious combinations, reached the
apogee of its development. Preceding composers had studied and written
much about the proper manner of treating two or more melodies in
combination, about intervals, progressions, dissonances, mensural
problems, and the art of imitation, diminution, inversion, and the
like. Some of them had expended their genius in systematizing and
classifying the complex rules for contrapuntal writing, and they
delighted in setting themselves difficult tasks to be performed
within these rigid rules. This was all very well; it resulted in
the establishment of a perfected technique and a body of knowledge,
the value of which was recognized by every musician with scholarly
aims. Okeghem appeared on the scene at a time when the struggle
with technical difficulties seemed to be an end in itself, and his
genius--of the mathematical sort--enabled him to master and play with
them. It is a mistake to suppose that he devoted himself wholly, or
even largely, to the composition of more 'riddle canons,’ as they
are called; but it is probably a fact that he is most frequently
remembered and characterized by them.
[Illustration: RIDDLE CANON by PIERRE DE LA RUE.]
A hint as to the nature of these curious compositions will be
sufficient, perhaps, to mystify the uninitiated reader. The mass,
_Ad omnem tonum_, shows, instead of the clefs, question marks as
signatures; and it may be sung, by using the corresponding accidentals,
in any church mode. The thirty-six part mass, with canon for nine
parts, already mentioned, is not a 'riddle,’ but has all the
difficulties of one. In Okeghem’s school is found the so-called 'crab
canon,’ _canon cancrizans_, which is first sung through in the usual
way from beginning to end, then repeated backward. There is also a
canon which, like the _canon cancrizans_, is to be sung through twice,
but from the beginning to the end both times. In the second singing,
however, each progression of the original melody _down_ is answered by
a corresponding interval _up_, or _vice versa_. This is known as the
'inverted canon.’ One of Okeghem’s followers, Hobrecht, furnishes us
even with a canon which has both the retrograde and the inverted motion.
In fact, canonic forms of all varieties and complications were treated
by Okeghem and his school to the point of exhaustion. It must not be
forgotten that the range given to a single voice was much more limited
than at present; that these compositions must conform to the strictest
rules, not only when sung in the normal manner, but when repeated in
retrograde or inverted motion; and that the very essence of the work
was the perfection attained in adhering to contrapuntal laws, rather
than the expression of individual feeling. Okeghem himself made these
puzzles but rarely, and, as it were, in the manner of providing an
intellectual treat for the educated musicians of his day, especially
those who formed the church choirs. These difficult works were a
test of their ability and thorough acquaintance with Church modes;
they afforded exercise in transposition from one mode to another and
offered the charm of variety which the special characteristics of each
individual mode imparted. Furthermore, they tended to develop the
highest artistry the vocalist was capable of, and were an illustration
of the variety of combinations possible with the already existing parts.
It has often been claimed that Okeghem was only a musical pundit; that
his works are merely curiosities, depending for their interest on their
mathematical ingenuity, and not on their artistic worth. But such a
judgment does the master less than justice. Even from the point of
view of later and more beautiful achievements, it must be acknowledged
that at least some of his compositions have a certain artistic merit.
Moreover, the service of Okeghem and his school was one of the
necessary preliminaries to the full perfection of the art of polyphony.
Technical difficulties were solved once for all, and a vast system of
theoretical knowledge was prepared by their devoted labors for the use
of the greater masters who should follow. So keen a critic and judge as
R. G. Kiesewetter (1841) says of Okeghem and his followers: '... they
have greater facility in counterpoint and fertility in invention; their
compositions, moreover, being no longer mere premeditated submissions
to contrapuntal operation, are for the most part indicative of thought
and sketched with manifest design; being also full of ingenious
contrivances of an obligato counterpoint, at that time just discovered.’
Besides, the work of Okeghem is interesting as illustrating a certain
phase of character peculiar to the Middle Ages. There was, at the
time, a love of secrecy and mystery, which led artists and expert
craftsmen to embody the signs of their craft in a private and esoteric
system, which no one but the initiated could understand. In accordance
with this trend, the writing down of a canon of Okeghem, as has
been pointed out, often took the form of a special musical design,
consisting only of a few notes and a short Latin inscription. The
reading of such a canon was not always easy, even to the initiated:
but to the novice it had all the mystery of a Delphic oracle. It
was not possible, of course, even for the most cultivated musician,
upon hearing such a work performed, to recognize and follow all its
complexities. Okeghem was the master who aroused and nourished the
taste for these complex achievements in music, though he was by no
means their inventor. Such devices, though to a less degree, were
already known to Dufay, as is shown in his canon, _L’omme armé_. But
Okeghem brought the art to the point of virtuosity; and it is for this
reason he stands at the head of the Netherland school. Judged by the
standard of pure art, he is at his best as a composer of chansons. Even
these, however, have long outlived their day, just as his contrapuntal
riddles have long ceased to tease the intelligence or curiosity of
lovers of music.
It is by virtue of another quality, his gift for teaching, that
Okeghem lives to-day. As the founder of the Netherland school merely,
his influence must almost have ceased when the traditions of that
school were superseded by the vital enthusiasm of another; but, as the
teacher of the leaders of succeeding schools, he has achieved a kind of
immortality sometimes missed by greater artists. In the whole history
of music Okeghem as a teacher stands alone. Only Porpora, possibly,
the great singing master of the eighteenth century, can be compared to
him. Kiesewetter says, 'Through his pupils the art was transplanted
into all countries, and he must be regarded (for it can be proved by
genealogy) as the founder of all schools from his own to the present
age.’
Only a few of his most distinguished pupils can be mentioned here:
Jean de Roi, Basiron, Jacques Barbireau, Pierre de la Rue, Compère,
Agricola, Caron, Verbonnet, Brumel, and, greatest of all, Josquin des
Prés. Some of them, such as Agricola, unfortunately conceived the
writing of contrapuntal intricacies to be their chief duty; while
others used their acquired knowledge to better purpose. The Belgian,
Hobrecht (1450-1505), chapel master of Notre Dame at Antwerp, was
probably not a personal pupil of Okeghem, though a zealous follower
and admirer. While assimilating and adopting the master’s ingenuity,
he also was able to weave into his masses and motets a personal,
subjective quality which marks them with the composer’s individuality.
So highly esteemed was Hobrecht in his day that in 1494 the whole choir
of the principal church in Bruges, for which he had written a mass,
travelled to Antwerp in order to express thanks and do him honor.
During Okeghem’s supremacy--a matter of forty years or so--some of
the more interesting forms, which had been cultivated in the time
of Dufay, disappeared. We look in vain for the mediæval rondo, the
ballad, the accompanied secular art song, and the paraphrased church
song, with instrumental accompaniment. The contribution of Okeghem
and his followers was the development of technical resources and a
greater freedom, both in range and style, in vocal composition. His
unremitting, thoughtful search for fundamental rules established the
art of polyphony on a firm basis, and provided a safe starting point
for the utterance of truth and passion. It is the fate, however, of
work depending on a passing taste to grow old quickly, and Okeghem
himself probably outlived his popularity. But his pupils spread over
Europe and perpetuated his learning, and some of them, at least,
enriched the art by a fresher genius. Unlike the old French and
Gallo-Belgian masters, who stayed at home, these writers overflowed
into Italy and Germany, established schools of instruction, and founded
choruses for the production of vocal works. Among them, moreover, was
one genius who exercised the strongest influence on the art of music,
and deserves to rank as one of its greatest masters. That genius was
Josquin des Prés.
III
Josquin des Prés is almost the last in the long list of Netherland
composers, and overtops them all, with the exception of Lassus. The
year of his birth is uncertain, but has been placed at about 1450,
since he was a singer in the papal chapel under Pope Sixtus IV
(1471-84). He has been claimed as a countryman by Italian writers,
because his name was modified into _del Prato_; by German, because,
ethnologically and geographically, the Low Countries are a part of
Germany; by the French, because the Netherlands became a political
dependency of France about two hundred years after Josquin’s death;
and naturally the Belgians claim some share in the fame of the man who
represents the glory of Belgian music. The towns of Condé, Tours, and
Cambrai, the home of Dufay, and of others, have all been candidates
for the honor of his birth; but scholars are now agreed that he was
born at least in the province of Hainault, which belonged, during the
middle and later fifteenth century, to the dominions of Philip the Good
of Burgundy. Josquin had been chapel singer at Milan before entering
the papal choir (1484), and afterward he is found in the service of
Louis XII of France, with whom he was a great favorite. Like some of
his predecessors, he received an appointment to a canonry, but seems
not to have kept the office very long. In the year 1515 the Netherlands
became German, and, according to Konrad Peutinger, Josquin left France
for a position in the Netherland chapel of Maximilian I. It seems
probable, therefore, that he spent the latter part of his life at
Condé, in his native country, where he died in 1521.
[Illustration: JOSQUIN DES PRÉS.]
Okeghem was still alive, and Dufay less than a score of years dead,
when Josquin’s fame sprang to the sky. So great a stir did his gifts
create in Rome that beside him the fame of all other composers paled.
The Duke Hercules d’Este of Ferrara, for whom Josquin composed a
mass entitled _Hercules dux Ferrariæ_, called him the Prince of
Music; and the Abbate Baini, director of the pontifical chapel in
the early nineteenth century, says of him: 'In a short time, by his
new productions, he becomes the idol of Europe. There is no longer
tolerance for any one but Josquin. Josquin alone is sung in every
chapel in Christendom. Nobody but Josquin in Italy, nobody but Josquin
in France, nobody but Josquin in Germany, in Flanders, in Hungary, in
Spain--Josquin and Josquin alone.’[96]
Fables grew up about his name, as about that of Homer or Wilhelm Tell.
It is said that the French monarch, under whom Josquin served, had a
bad voice and a still worse ear. Nevertheless, he was fond of music
and desired his brilliant retainer to compose something in which he
could take part. Josquin was equal to the occasion. He constructed a
quartette somewhat different from the usual sort, there being two upper
parts in a canon, and a free bass. To these he added a fourth part,
the _vox regis_, as he flippantly called it, consisting of a single
note which it was the king’s office to repeat, almost incessantly,
throughout the piece!
The emoluments even of a royal musician were evidently not always
prompt or large, and Josquin is reported more than once to have given
the cue to the king by compositions whose opening Biblical words
contained a punning comment on the royal dilatoriness in paying
salaries, or whose sacred meaning could be amusingly applied to his own
indigence. When finally the king good-naturedly took the hint, Josquin
poured out his gratitude in a motet, 'Lord, thou hast dealt graciously
with thy servant.’ One biographer of Josquin cynically declares that
the thank-offering was not at all up to the mark of the petitions.
Gaiety and humor were often in evidence in his music, as one would
expect from so witty, lively a character. His work generally shows
a careful finish and attention to details. Naumann points out that
he takes greater care in declamation, groups his voices for better
color effects, and achieves results, especially in the masses,
which foreshadow the grandeur and simplicity of the great period of
ecclesiastical music under Palestrina. The Passion motets and _Stabat
Mater_ for five voices are among the most famous of his works. Severe
contrapuntal art is shown in the two _L’omme armé_ masses, as well as
in _Pange lingua_ and _Fortuna desperata_. The contrapuntal ingenuity,
however, is lost sight of in a genial, naïve quality combined with
nobility and ceremonial dignity.
His fame as a writer of chansons equalled his reputation in sacred
music. In these also he stands far ahead of his contemporaries, paying
more attention to syllabic values, and entering into the mood of
the text. His manner is unforced and gay, and here, too, his great
contrapuntal ingenuity is veiled by poetical, nicely calculated effects.
Concerning his work as a whole in comparison with his predecessors, it
is generally considered that he is more concise, easier to comprehend,
less laden with artifice, and able at last to put soul into the
elaborate framework of the polyphonic art. He is the first important
musician whose work has come down to us in such quantities as to
enable critics to judge adequately of his powers. He was in the prime
of life when the art of printing music by means of movable types was
invented, and for a century or more his compositions were included
in almost every collection that was made. Among his extant works are
thirty-two masses, fragments of masses, motets, some of them for five
parts, and chansons. Portions of his work have been given to the public
successively by Petrucci (early sixteenth century), in Junta’s edition,
Rome, 1521, in the _Missa XII_ of Graphæus, 1539; and no less than
seven special editions of portions of his works were made during the
sixteenth century. Masses in manuscript are to be found in the archives
of the papal chapel, as well as in the libraries of Munich and Cambrai.
Besides these, numerous examples have been preserved in the works of
Glarean, Sebald Heyden, Forkel, Burney, Hawkins, Kiesewetter, Ambros,
and others. The number and importance of his commentators and editors
are glowing tributes to the importance of the man himself. With the
exception of Lassus, no other Netherland master enjoyed such fame,
either during life or after death. He is called 'Jodocus’ in affection,
and described as 'at once learned and pleasing, everywhere graceful,
the universal favorite of the age, welcomed everywhere, ruling without
a rival.’ Luther mentions the 'Jodocus’ as one of his favorite
composers, saying that others were mastered by notes, while Josquin did
what he pleased with them.
And with all this popularity, even glorification, what living singer
has ever sung, or what living amateur has ever heard, a note of his
music? Specimens of it are not current, it is true; but neither are
they inaccessible. Three hundred and fifty years are as nothing in the
lifetime of a book, a building, a statue--even of a picture, so much
more perishable.... Dante had need of a commentator before Josquin
could have learned to read: the frescoes of Giotto were beginning to
decay ere he visited Italy, and the beautiful cathedral of St. Quentin
had entered its third century ere he first raised his voice in it.’[97]
The eclipse of Josquin’s fame, however, appears not to be quite so
complete and thorough to-day as when the above words were written
(1862). A number of German societies now regularly include his
compositions in their programs, and some of his works have been
given in New York during the current year (1914). But no matter how
neglected, he occupies a great and honored place in the history of
music. Hitherto, as we have seen, musicians had been almost entirely
absorbed in the study and application of technical details. Their art
was, first and foremost, an intellectual exercise, and its appeal,
naturally, almost entirely limited to the intellect. To the modern
amateur, good music is that which touches him. He wishes to be
conscious of that indefinable spirit which is at once both simpler
and deeper than intellect. The greater part of the contrapuntal
subtleties of Okeghem must have left the listener cold, remaining in
history only as amazing _tours de force_, whose artificial perfection
could only be a stage in the development toward something higher.
It was this higher quality, achieved by Josquin, which placed him
at the head of composers of his time, and gives him importance in
history. He, too, possessed the technical skill and learning necessary
to the construction of contrapuntal riddles; he, too, was sometimes
artificial, and occasionally surpassed even Okeghem in his quaint and
grotesque combinations. But such intellectual gymnastic feats were not
an important matter with him. He used, and has the distinction of being
the first to use, learning as a means of expression, as the vehicle
of personal, subjective, and sympathetic utterance. His style became
simpler and more transparent, his conception of the text more poetic,
and, by reason of these qualities, truth and beauty of expression are
his chief merits.
The labor of the Netherlanders, from Dufay to the death of Josquin,
offers a spectacle of almost unparalleled activity and painstaking
research. It was, for the art of polyphony, the period of youth and
adolescence, with its enormous energy, its too great reliance upon
intellect, and its comparative lack of mellowness and heart. Dufay was
a singer in the papal chapel exactly one hundred years before Josquin
held the same position. He, with other Gallo-Belgians and the English
Dunstable, added to the body of technical knowledge, established the
principles of design in composition, and brought sacred music into
closer touch with folk-song. Okeghem and his immediate followers were
intoxicated, not with the wine of poetry or passion, but with a desire
for intellectual artifice and refinement. They expended their genius
on technique as an end, and produced compositions beside which even
the most intricate contrapuntal efforts of later days seem almost like
child’s play. Such work carries within itself, however, the seeds of
its own destruction, and, so far as it rested upon puzzling subtleties,
it was doomed to die. Nevertheless, the schools of Dufay and Okeghem
prepared the way and the materials for the third and greatest of the
indigenous Netherland schools, that of Josquin. To him the resources of
counterpoint were merely the means to obtain beauty of expression. It
is for this reason that we regard him as the first great composer.
F. B.
FOOTNOTES:
[84] Strict or plain counterpoint is divided into several species: (1)
note against note, there being one note in the accompanying melody or
melodies to one note of the cantus firmus; (2) two notes against one;
(3) three, four, or more notes against one; (4) syncopated; (5) florid
or figured, in which the added parts are free. Counterpoint is single,
or simple, when the added part is uniformly above or below the cantus;
_double_ when the added part is so constructed as to be usable either
above or below the cantus by a uniform transposition of an octave, a
tenth, or some other interval; and _triple_, or _quadruple_, when three
or four melodies are so fitted as to be mutually interchangeable with
one another by transposition.
[85] Imitation is _strict_ when the succession of intervals is
identical in both antecedent and consequent; _free_ when some
modification of the one appears in the other. Imitation is called
_augmented_ when the rhythmic value of the several tones is
systematically increased, as, for example, when quarter-notes are
represented by half-notes; _diminished_ when the rhythmic value of the
several notes is lessened; _inverted_ (or imitation in contrary motion)
when every upward interval in the antecedent is represented in the
answer by an equivalent downward interval, or vice versa; _retrograde_
(or reversed imitation) when the intervals of the antecedent are taken
in the reverse order in the consequent. A _canon_ is a composition in
which imitation is carried out at some length. Imitation is also the
basis of the _fugue_.
[86] It is in Walter Odington’s treatise that the first mention of
duple metre is made.
[87] Similar intervals occurring between two voices that pass from one
chord to another in parallel motion.
[88] A sequence of chords at the end of a phrase or period, involving,
in modern music, a clear enunciation of the tonality or key in which
the piece is written. Full, perfect, complete or authentic cadence is
the dominant harmony in root position followed by that of the tonic in
root position. This kind of cadence is comparable to a period. A half
cadence is a less definite closing, used for phrases not final.
[89] W. S. Rockstro, in Grove’s Dictionary, III, 259.
[90] Quoted from an extant letter of Philip of Luxembourg to the
Chapter at Cambrai.
[91] 'Dufay and His Contemporaries.’
[92] Grove: 'Dict. of Music and Musicians.’
[93] 'Early English Harmony’; Vol. I edited by H. E. Wooldridge, 1897;
Vol. II edited by Rev. H. V. Hughes, 1913.
[94] See Chapter X.
[95] The form Ockenheim was introduced by Glarean, apparently without
sufficient reason. It is supposed that Okeghem was born about 1430.
[96] 'Life of Palestrina,’ Rome, 1828.
[97] Hullah: 'Lectures on the History of Modern Music,’ p. 53.