EARLY ENGLISH COMPOSERS
THOMAS TALLIS (OR TALLYS)
Most of the pre-Reformation music destroyed--Tallis, the oldest
English musician of which anything certain is known--Organist of
Waltham Abbey at time of the suppression of the monasteries--Date of
his birth unknown--Favourite of King Henry VIII. and Queen
Elizabeth--State of difficulty and danger in intervening
reigns--Chaotic state of things in the Church--Queen Elizabeth's
policy--View of it taken by the present Dean of St. Paul's
Cathedral--Greatness of Tallis as a composer--His death.
We are, unfortunately, not able to write of the earliest English
composers, as much of their work (and with their work their very names)
perished at the time of the destruction of the monasteries by King Henry
VIII. in 1540, and what was left of it was destroyed by fire during the
sacking of the cathedrals by the Puritans in the Commonwealth period. We
are, then, obliged to begin with the _early_ English composers, who date
no further back than the sixteenth century and the Reformation.
In dealing with these and their music, it is impossible to think without
emotion of the terrible sacrifice of treasures of art caused by the
veritable holocaust made of them by the Puritans, for, of the work of
centuries, there is, practically, little or no trace left. What we do
know of the works of those composers who lived before and during the
early Reformation period, shews that ecclesiastical music had arrived at
a point of great splendour, and if Tallis may be considered as the
descendant of a great school of composers, which he undoubtedly was, it
can help us to realize the extent of our loss.
He was, fortunately, able to protect his own work, or, doubtless, that
would have perished with the rest, since all of his early music (and
some of the noblest specimens) was written for the monastery at Waltham
Abbey.
Tallis stands out pre-eminent among the early Church composers, and,
indeed, has been generally called the father of English music. The date
of his birth is not known, but as he was organist and composer to an
important monastery at the time of its dissolution in 1540, it is not
only evident that he must have been born early in the century, but that
his genius was decidedly precocious. Some authorities give the date as
about 1529; Grove's Dictionary, on the other hand, as supposedly in the
second decade of the century: this seems more probable, as the former
would have found him holding such a conspicuous appointment at the age
of eleven. It is a fact of much significance that he was a prominent
composer before the Reformation, and thus a descendant of the ancient
school of English Church music, pure and unalloyed.
His earliest compositions were, of course, written to Latin words, and
the publication of his motets in that language in 1575, more than
thirty years after its suppression, suggests that the call of his early
training and associations was greater than he could resist, for it must
be borne in mind that those were days of fierce bigotry, and many had
been undone for acts much less provocative of "suspicion."
Indeed, of all the immediate changes in the Church services effected
under Henry VIII., perhaps the most important, after those asserting
severance from Rome, was the substitution of English in place of Latin
in their administration, and on no point were the reformers more
jealous, since it implied complete freedom from outside interference
and, above all, that of the Pope.
That Tallis escaped trouble on this occasion shews that he was a
decidedly fortunate, or as some unkind critics suggest, a decidedly
adroit being. They even go to the length of comparing him to the "Vicar
of Bray," because of the continuity of his employment in the Church
during four reigns, in which such diverging views were inculcated and,
outwardly at least, demanded of acceptance. Thus Henry VIII., who broke
the Roman connection, but generally upheld its doctrines; Edward VI.,
who repudiated them; Mary, who not only enforced them, but restored, as
far as she was able, the _status quo_ before the act of separation from
Rome; and Elizabeth, who reverted, practically, to the position as it
was at the death of her father, additional alterations in the liturgy
excepted.
The "Vicar of Bray" theory seems to me to be quite easy of demolition.
With regard to King Henry and Queen Elizabeth, they were, both, skilled
musicians and perfectly capable to appreciate the genius of Tallis in
its highest aspects, and were, therefore, little likely to rid the
Church of so brilliant an ornament.
In the intervening reigns, it seems only natural to suppose that many
who still adhered to their Catholic principles, while bowing to the
inevitable for the time being, and, knowing the precarious state of the
health of the young Prince, foresaw the probable accession of Queen Mary
and the consequent restoration of the ancient Church. Of these, Tallis
may have been one.
On the actual accession their hopes seemed justified to the fullest
extent, and only the fact of the Queen proving childless rendered them
futile.
It is difficult, if not impossible, to say with any approach to
exactitude what were, precisely, the immediate changes in the forms of
the Church services insisted on at the moment of King Henry's rebellion
against Papal supremacy. It is, however, only natural to assume that all
reference to that supremacy would be eliminated, and that the use of the
English language would be insisted upon, so as to mark, once and for all
time, the absolutely irrevocable nature of the act.
The state of affairs in the Church must have been absolutely chaotic,
what with those who, while remaining Catholic in principle, were willing
to accept such changes as were not inconsistent with their faith, and
others who were anti-Catholic by conviction and desirous of banishing
all traces of the past, so far as it might be possible.
It was to these that the young King extended his sympathy and help, on
his accession to the throne.
His death after a short reign and the consequent accession of Queen
Mary, simply made "confusion worse confounded." Although strenuous in
her methods, she had not time to achieve what she had at heart, and her
death put an end for ever to the hopes of the extreme Catholic party.
However much had been carried out that Queen Elizabeth at once settled
herself to undo, and thus prolonged, perhaps inevitably, the crisis
through which the Church was passing.
It is not difficult to imagine the delicate position in which musicians
found themselves at various times during this crucial period. Let me
quote Mr. Myles B. Foster in his interesting book, "Anthems and Anthem
Composers"[14]: "Can we not picture the puzzled state of these poor
composers, never knowing whether, by setting their music to the new
English words, they would be burned alive, or, by using the old Latin
ones, they would be hanged!"
With the accession of Queen Elizabeth these critical times may be said
to have become a thing of the past--at least for the musician. The
policy of the wonderful Queen was based on compromise, by which she
endeavoured to so broaden the lines of the Church as to make it
possible for the two factions to remain within its boundaries. So far as
the extremists on either side are concerned, the idea was doomed to
failure, but while she lived she pursued the policy with characteristic
pertinacity, and unenviable was the fate of the too-reforming Bishop who
encountered her displeasure. The state of the Church of England to-day
seems, at once, a tribute to her genius and foresight, for while the
trend of feeling and opinion certainly continued to move in the
direction of Protestantism, the opposing principles never became quite
extinct.[15]
It was, undoubtedly, under circumstances of great uncertainty that
Tallis was called upon to write music for a reformed liturgy that was at
once novel and, probably, seeing his early training, distasteful to him.
How he met the emergency is evident to-day, for his "Preces and
Responses" not only remain in use, but are a priceless possession of the
English Church. On the greatness of Tallis as a composer it is needless
to insist, for it has been universally acknowledged. His contrapuntal
skill was amazing, his fertility and originality equally so, and
everything he wrote bears the impress of a nobility of mind difficult of
description. That he remained in high favour with the Queen until his
death, is shewn by the grants of land and other proofs of her regard
that she bestowed on him. A complete list of his compositions (so far as
can be known) is given in Grove's "Dictionary of Music and Musicians,"
and is a striking proof of his immense activity.
To secular music he seems to have been quite indifferent, for, to all
appearances, he wrote little or none.
He died in 1585 when, probably, about seventy years of age, and was
buried in the parish church of Greenwich. We have other of the early
English musicians to deal with, but none, I think, of such unique
interest, as he was the first of whom we have any reliable record, the
works of his predecessors having been literally _burnt_ out of
existence.
WILLIAM BYRD
Date of Byrd's birth unknown--Pupil of Tallis--Strict Catholic, yet
employed in the English Church--Explanation--Queen Elizabeth's
protection--Organist of Lincoln Cathedral--Member of the Chapel
Royal--Granted sole privilege of publishing music in conjunction
with Tallis--Greatness as composer, both sacred and secular
music--His masses--His character--His death.
The date of the birth of this composer is quite unknown. Many
speculations have been made on the subject, but they are purely
conjectural. It seems certain, however, that he was born late in the
first half of the sixteenth century, and thus at the time of the highest
development of the ancient English ecclesiastical school of music. He
had the inestimable privilege of being a pupil of Tallis, and remained
his friend and colleague until the death of the latter dissolved the
connection in 1585.
Unlike most of his contemporaries, he sturdily refused to change his
religious views at the capricious behests of any monarch, and, strange
to say, he does not seem to have suffered for his constancy materially,
for he continued in official employment and the favour of Elizabeth as
long as the Queen lived.
This fact has often evoked expression of astonishment, and has been
cited as a proof, not only of the unstable position in the Church
itself, but of instability in the character of its rulers.
It seems to me to be simply one more proof of the extraordinary tenacity
with which Queen Elizabeth held to her policy of trusting to the
influence of time to gradually moderate opposing views, and ultimately
cement them in one creed which should embody the essential beliefs of
both.
In any case, two things are known, that his services were retained, and
that he adhered to the use of Latin for his sacred music. This, of
course, means that either none of his music was sung in the Church, or
that the occasional use of Latin for singing was permitted. The latter,
I think, extremely probable, at least in the early years of the
Reformation. He was appointed organist of Lincoln Cathedral in 1563,
and in 1569 became a member of the Chapel Royal. In 1575 he published,
in conjunction with Tallis, a collection of motets, which was dedicated
to the Queen. It may be noted that it was printed by one Vautrollier,
although the two composers had recently acquired the right of
exclusively printing music for twenty-one years. It may be assumed that
they sub-let the privilege, for it is known that after the death of
Tallis, Byrd became sole possessor of the monopoly. This collection was
entitled "Cantiones, qu[ae] ab argumento sacr[ae] vocantar, quinque et
sex partum." Unlike Tallis, he did not confine his energies to sacred
music, but wrote much for the virginals, as well as some beautiful
madrigals.
In 1591 was issued his "Liber secundus Sacrarum Cantionum."
By this time Byrd was universally recognised as the greatest English
musician of his time, and his fame had spread to the Continent. The
death of Tallis had left him absolutely without a rival. There is plenty
of evidence proving Queen Elizabeth's regard for him. In fact, it was
from a pecuniary point of view, somewhat embarrassing to him, as it must
be admitted that the great Queen was exacting of service, and somewhat
parsimonious in the paying for it. The many references to him made by
contemporary writers, such as "homo memorabilis," "the most celebrated
musician of the English nation," and "one of the most famous musicians
that ever were in this land," all go to shew that his name was held in
the highest esteem.
The year 1607 witnessed the production of the "Gradualia"; this
contained music for the complete ecclesiastical year of the Catholic
Church. A striking example of his fearlessness!
The work by which he is best known to the general public to-day is the
ever popular "Non nobis Domine," which, although written in the severe
style of canon form, is at once beautiful and touching in its
extraordinary expression of reverence. The highest achievements of
William Byrd were the Masses in three, four and five parts.
In these works his genius is displayed to its fullest extent and in its
most splendid guise.
The period is declared by so great an authority as W. S. Rockstro
(Grove's Dictionary) to be the greatest in the history of Mass music,
and Byrd's Mass in five parts is one of the most splendid that were
written during that memorable time.
In personal character William Byrd was a decidedly interesting man. At a
time when what may be termed opportunism was the evident thing that made
for success, he refused to be influenced by it, and steadfastly declined
to abate by jot or tittle his allegiance to the Catholic Church in its
integrity, and it is an extraordinary proof of the attraction of his
forceful character that, notwithstanding this fact, so menacing to his
personal safety, he not only retained the Queen's favour during her
lifetime, but seems to have held a firm grip on all the benefactions she
bestowed on him up to the day of his death.
That this was not easy to accomplish is shown by the legal actions in
which he became involved, the principal one being Shelley v. Byrd, upon
whose issue depended his retention of Stondon Place, a property granted
to him by Elizabeth. It continued for some years, and would seem to have
ended in a form of compromise. It is not without interest that the
plaintiff in the case was an ancestress of no less a personage than the
poet Percy Bysshe Shelley. However, Byrd remained in possession, and
there is reason to believe that he died there and was buried in the
Parish Church, although there are no records to bear out the
supposition. His death took place in 1623, when he must have been at an
advanced age.
ORLANDO GIBBONS
Orlando Gibbons, one of a large family of musicians--Born in a time of
transition from rigidity of ancient ecclesiastical
music--Instrumentation coming into existence--Protest by
Byrd--Contrast of the two composers--The age one in which freedom of
thought springing up in all directions--Gibbons eager to take
advantage of it--The result of the substitution of English for Latin
in the Church--His eminence as writer of secular music--His death.
The youngest son in a family of musicians, Orlando Gibbons is a
particularly interesting subject for study, not only on account of his
genius, but for the fact that he became the most distinguished living
composer at a time that was, essentially, one of transition. The old
order was giving place to the new.
The rigid severity of the ancient Catholic Church music was gradually
yielding to the attractions of greater warmth of feeling, added grace
of melody and more freedom in expression. Instrumental music was lifting
its head, and instruments other than the organ, the ever accepted aid to
the rites of the Church, were invading the sacred precincts. Now, there
are always men who are constitutionally averse to change, and of these
was the great, but not too amiable, Mr. William Byrd. We can, therefore,
quite appreciate his feelings on this particular innovation and
understand the frame of mind in which he writes, in a preface to his
"Songs of Sadness," thus: "There is no music of instruments whatever to
be compared to the voyces of men, when they are good, well-sorted and
ordered."
Orlando Gibbons was the impersonator of the new spirit; William Byrd was
the jealous guardian of the old. One can, then, easily imagine the
indignation with which such innovations would be met, and the
accumulated wrath that must have burnt at his heart as he saw the
repeated and successful attacks on all that he regarded as sacred. Up to
this time all musical instruments, with the exception of the organ, had
been associated with dancing and the outdoor amusements of the common
people, and since many of these were of a kind far removed from
religious exercise, it is only rational to suppose that such a man as
Byrd would view with repugnance their introduction into the Church's
service. The fact, too, must be taken into consideration that at the
time of this particular innovation he was fairly advanced in years, and,
therefore, with a disposition less adaptable than that of the young and
ardent musician who was destined to leave behind him an imperishable
name in the hierarchy of the world's greatest musicians.
Born about forty years after the birth of Byrd, Orlando Gibbons yet but
survived him by two, being one of that long list of composers who have
died young and whose premature death has robbed the world of who can
tell how many masterpieces! His music was as distinct an advance on that
of Byrd, as Byrd's was on that of Tallis.
The age was one in which the bonds, by which intellectual effort had
been tethered, were being rapidly loosed or broken, and it is only
natural that a young and greatly gifted man like Orlando Gibbons would
revel in the sense of freedom from which the older one would shrink with
something akin to horror.
He was thus fortunate to be born in such an era--an era made for ever
memorable by the works of two of the greatest geniuses the world has
possessed, William Shakespeare and Francis Bacon--and endowed with
faculties that enabled him to grasp the opportunities it held out to
him.
The substitution of English for Latin in the Church was, in itself, an
event of striking importance to the composer, but, above all, the
translation of the Bible into the vulgar tongue placed at his
disposition the sources of limitless inspiration.
That Orlando Gibbons was quick to take advantage of the golden
opportunity is proved by the list of superb anthems he bequeathed to
the English Church. It includes such glorious examples as those entitled
"Hosanna," "O clap your hands" and "This is the record of John." Of
other forms of sacred music, the service in the key of F is perhaps his
most notable achievement.
He was also eminent as a composer of secular music, and was equalled by
few and excelled by none as a writer of madrigals. His music for the
viols and virginals not only emphasises the scope of his genius, but
marks a veritable epoch in the history of instrumental music. So far did
his originality carry him, that some of it might even be attributed to
Bach or Handel, without violence to our sense of proportion. He died at
Canterbury in 1625, the forty-second year of his age.
HENRY PURCELL
Purcell, the last of the great early English musicians--His
genius--Supremacy of the foreign musicians in England--His short
life--His originality--His power of invention--A pioneer--His
harmony--His precocity--Handel--An irrepressible conjecture--A
comparison--Purcell enters the Chapel Royal--Becomes Organist of
Westminster Abbey--Dr. John Blow--Purcell as composer of dramatic
music--Te Deum and Jubilate for St. Cecilia's Day--His death and
epitaph.
With Henry Purcell we come to the last and greatest of the early English
composers.
Born before the traditions and influence of the ancient school of
ecclesiastical music had actually died out, and yet after other and
conflicting influences had become supreme, he had the extraordinary
power that enabled him to seize on what was best in either and blend
them in a style that, had there been successors of sufficient genius
and independence of thought, might have proved the foundation of a
school of English music sufficiently elastic to encourage every possible
development and yet remaining absolutely national in character.
Unfortunately, he had no such successors, and foreign musicians soon
asserted that supremacy in the country they have held ever since, until
the memorable events of the last decade sounded its death knell.
The Writing on the Wall has appeared. Many think they have read it.
Purcell was one more of that large number of men of genius who have died
in early manhood. This fate seems to have been peculiarly conspicuous
among musicians and poets. To cite only a few: Purcell, Mozart and
Mendelssohn; Shelley, Keats and Chatterton. The list could, alas, be
largely extended.
It may be truly said that, seeing how short his life was, his
achievements were amazing, both in extent and significance. He advanced
the art of music in every direction, to such a degree indeed, that one
can only regard his latest works with astonishment at their modernity.
Such combinations of voices and instruments as had hitherto been tried
were quite primitive in character, and were simply confined to the
support of the voice parts. The illuminating genius of Purcell, however,
enabled him to see, even if dimly, the infinite possibilities the
combination held out to the composer, and he set himself to give effect
to it. The crude efforts of his predecessors became in his hands a
tremendous artistic force, and when he died the way had been paved for
Handel and other of his illustrious successors. The same originality is
displayed in his harmonies. He cast off all the shackles of convention
and indulged in progressions and discords that would, doubtless, have
shocked the earlier writers. Many of his cadences[16] are altogether too
discordant for modern ears. In fact, the extreme harshness of some of
them is rather calculated to make one doubt their authenticity. But it
is, nevertheless, perhaps in his harmony and its extraordinary beauty
that his genius is most conspicuously displayed.[17]
His melodies were bold and unconventional to the point, as regards
rhythm, of seeming wilfulness on occasion. Yet many were lovely and full
of intense feeling, and all characterised by a genius at once
independent and conscious of its power.
His precocity was amazing, even in the history of an art that has
produced so many extraordinary specimens of this particular gift.
Some of his anthems were written while still a chorister boy, and his
earliest essays in dramatic music at the age of fourteen.
That in some of his later works in which voices were combined with organ
and orchestra, he anticipated Handelian effects is undoubted, and that
the great German master was influenced by them, I think, equally so.
If an account of the orchestra with which he had to deal would read
strangely at the present time, it is at least not without interest to
think that, even so tremendous a genius as Handel made little advance on
it. It has been shewn elsewhere that the genesis of the modern orchestra
is of a later date.
Handel was only ten years of age when Purcell died.
It is an irrepressible conjecture of what might have been, if the latter
had lived thirty years longer. He then would have failed to reach the
age at which the former died. The acting and re-acting of the genius of
each one on the other might have produced results of profound importance
to English music--might, indeed, have saved it.
Fate, however, on this occasion, probably displayed more kindness than
is usually attributed to her. The contest would have proved unequal.
The great German genius, giant in body, overwhelming in energy and ever
thirsting for new worlds to conquer (and succeeding), would have been no
fitting opponent to the other, frail in physique and already a prey to
the terrible disease that has cut off, prematurely, the lives of such
countless thousands of men whose possibilities of attainment were barely
given time to indicate.[18]
Purcell entered the choir of the Chapel Royal at the age of six, and
while there became acquainted, in the best of all possible ways, with
such of the masterpieces of the ancient English school as had escaped
destruction, by taking part in their performance. At the age of
eighteen[19] he became organist of Westminster Abbey, by the voluntary
act of Dr. John Blow, who relinquished the post in favour of his
illustrious pupil. This fact is immensely suggestive. It shews that not
only was his genius universally recognised, but that his personality was
already sufficiently developed to justify his appointment to the most
important position to which any musician could attain.
Many theories have been ventilated as to Dr. Blow's action on this
occasion, some suggesting that, so far from being a voluntary act, he
was dismissed. This seems to me to be without the least justification,
seeing that he was re-appointed after Purcell's death. At this early
age, too, Purcell seems to have been attracted by the influence of the
theatre, as records shew that he was constantly writing music for the
stage.
That his genius for this class of composition was, in every respect,
equal to that he displayed in any other field open to him, is shewn by
his music to "Dido and [AE]neas," which was not only masterly, but as
much in advance of anything that had preceded it, as most of his other
work proved to be. The same can be said of his music to "King Arthur,"
in which he collaborated with Dryden.
If the word "opera," in its modern significance, can scarcely be applied
to it, there is not the slightest doubt that the genius was there to
give inspiration and guidance to those who were to come after him.
He wrote upwards of twenty works of this kind. For some years he was a
"composer to their Majesties," and in fulfilment of his duties in this
connection wrote many odes for use on official occasions. These do not
count among his best works. He was a voluminous writer of instrumental
music, and his sonatas are in advance of any previously written. He
wrote, practically for all instruments then extant, but that by which he
is principally known as an instrumental composer is his harpsichord
music, this instrument having by this time superseded the virginals.
One of his last, and perhaps the greatest of his works, was the
magnificent "Te Deum and Jubilate" for St. Cecilia's Day.
This was for many years sung at the annual Festival of the Sons of the
Clergy, but was for some reason or other relinquished in favour of
Handel's Dettingen Te Deum. Purcell died when his genius was at the
highest point of power and splendour, leaving behind him a name of
imperishable memory and a fame that has seldom been eclipsed.
His death took place in 1695, the 37th year of his age. He was buried in
Westminster Abbey. Over his grave was inscribed the following epitaph:
Plaudite, felices, superi, tanto hospite, nostris
Pr[ae]fuerat, vestris addite illa choris:
Invida nec vobis Purcellum terra reproscat.
Questa decus secli, deliciasque breves.
Tam cito decessisse, modo cui singula debet
Musa, prophana suos religiosa suos.
Vivat so vivat, dum vicina organa spirant,
Dumque colet numeris turba canora Deum.
FOOTNOTES:
[14] Novello & Co.
[15] Since the above was written I read in the _Evening News_, November
24, 1911, the following words from a lecture delivered by the Dean of
St. Paul's:
"In its present state" (the Church of England) "it was the product of a
political compromise, which was so framed as to include Catholics who
would renounce the Pope, and Puritans who were not anarchistic on
principle. It was officially Protestant and disliked the name. Ever
since the Reformation the reformed churches had been in a state of
uncertainty, like a Dotheboys Hall after it had expelled its Squeers,
full of earnestness and deep conviction, but undecided as to what kind
of church they wanted, how it ought to be governed, what the conditions
of membership ought to be and where the seat of authority should
reside."
[16] A cadence is the end of a musical phrase.
[17] A tablet to his memory in Westminster records, in touching
language, that he "has gone to that Blessed Place, where only his
harmony can be exceeded."
[18] He died of consumption.
[19] There is a conflict of authorities on this point, but it may be
taken for granted that he was but little, if any, older at the time.