David Hiley
David Hiley
David Hiley
Gregorian Chant
What is Gregorian chant, and where does it come from? What purpose
does it serve, and how did it take on the form and features which make it
instantly recognizable? Designed to guide students through this key topic,
this introduction answers these questions and many more. David Hiley
describes the church services in which chant is performed, takes the reader
through the church year, explains what Latin texts were used, and, taking
Worcester Cathedral as an example, describes the buildings in which chant
was sung. The history of chant is traced from its beginnings in the early
centuries of Christianity, through the Middle Ages, the revisions in the
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and the restoration in the nineteenth
and twentieth. Using numerous music examples, the book shows how
chants are made and how they were notated. An indispensable guide for
all those interested in the fascinating world of Gregorian chant.
Gregorian Chant
DAVID HILEY
cambridge university press
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Cambridge University Press
The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 8RU, UK
Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, New York
www.cambridge.org
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A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library
vii
viii Contents
The author and publisher are grateful to be able to include the following illustrations.
ix
x List of illustrations
xi
xii List of musical examples
Notes are named according to a modification of the Guidonian system, with capital
letters for the lower octave, small ones for the upper octave:
Guidonian:
In this book:
xiii
Tables
xiv
Text boxes
xv
Preface
This book tries to answer some of the questions which are often raised about
Gregorian chant: what is it about and why is it the way it is? where does it come
from, who composed it, and for whom? These are questions about its history, and
the book is orientated towards historical matters. Thinking about the nature of
Gregorian chant may nevertheless help explain why so many are interested in it and
like to listen to it. For it may very well be that more people listen to Gregorian chant
today, or have heard it at some time or other, in some form or other, than at any
time in history. In sheer numbers, that is, not as a percentage of the population
in lands with a Christian heritage. Every so often a recording of Gregorian chant
climbs towards the top of the sales charts (as I write these words, the singing of the
monks of the Cistercian Abbey of Heiligenkreuz in Austria is making the running).
No beat, no harmony, such simple note patterns! Sung quietly, free from tension,
it is far removed indeed from modern music of almost every kind, and a welcome
respite from the haste and clamour of everyday life. Its ‘other-worldly’ character
appeals to esoteric movements, and it has been thoroughly exploited in branches of
the entertainment industry.
By contrast with this popularity of Gregorian chant outside the church, things are
less happy in the original home of chant, the worship of the Christian church. Church
attendance and the numbers of those entering holy orders fall. The changes brought
about after the Second Vatican Council (1962–5) led to a drastic decline in the use
of Latin, the language of Gregorian chant, in the services of the Roman Catholic
Church. Those in the church who regard chant as a relic of the past, inappropriate for
the modern church and best forgotten, are by no means few in number. Nevertheless,
there are strong movements in many countries today to cultivate chant in church
worship, and singing courses are popular. There seems little danger that chant will
sink into oblivion.
As well as occupying these spaces in modern life, plainchant is of great interest to
anyone with a feel for history. It is, after all, the earliest substantial (very substantial!)
body of music preserved in written form. So it has a regular place in the syllabus of
institutions of higher education, not least in inter-disciplinary courses in medieval
studies.
xvii
xviii Preface
The reasons why so many are interested in, or listen to chant, outside its original
context are certainly important, but they should be the subject of a different book.
This one concentrates on the time when chant was created. For it is a fact that
nowadays we do not compose chant, just as we do not build medieval cathedrals. In
the Middle Ages singing chant dominated the lives of very many men and women,
including many of the leaders of medieval society. To understand chant we need not
only to look at it note by note but also to think about the circumstances in which it
was made and performed. We need to get a sense of the purpose and shape of the
religious services, of the places of worship, and of how medieval men and women
might have thought about chant.
There are plenty of musical examples in this book, and it is my earnest hope that
readers will take the time to sing them through, at least in their minds, or even pick
them out on a musical instrument. Then they can test their reactions against my
descriptions. Some, however, may well wish to keep to the more general information
and pass over the discussion of particular pieces of chant, which are accordingly set
off in appearance.
I have written about the music fully aware of the well-known problem that music
is something which happens in time. Looking at a string of marks on a page in
musical examples is very far removed from experiencing chant in a medieval church
service. But that is what I would wish readers to try and imagine, in their mind’s
ear and eye. Hence the decision to relate some of what is explained to a specific
church, Worcester Cathedral, and to transcribe most of the musical examples from
Worcester manuscripts.
My view of chant is naturally shaped by my own experience of it, the way I have
come to know it, what I have read and learned, what I should like to believe about it.
The experience of others is inevitably different. But that is the chance any writer on
things of the past has to take. Faced with the miraculous beauty of the music and the
sheer size of the achievement – nothing less than creating Latin chant to be sung most
of the day (and part of the night) throughout one’s whole life – it seems well worth
taking that chance. For the ultimate point is not to describe the patterns made by
those marks on the page but to understand and appreciate the creative achievement
of which men and women are capable. I am also convinced that music is such a
complex phenomenon, and our powers of appreciating it so infinitely various, that
the distance in time between then and now is relatively insignificant, and no more
of a hindrance for chant than it is for any great music of the past.
As its place in the series of Cambridge Introductions suggests, this book is not
intended to be as comprehensive as some previous reference books on chant. In
keeping with this, the ‘Further Reading’ paragraphs and Bibliography are mostly
restricted to publications basic to the study of chant, although some citations will
take readers into more specialized research.
Preface xix
The book is also different in character from another one with a similar title,
Richard Crocker’s An Introduction to Gregorian Chant of 2000. This is the right place
to acknowledge a debt to Richard Crocker. Helping his volume in the New Oxford
History of Music towards publication in 1989 was one of the most valuable formative
experiences of my early career. That we write quite differently about chant would
have become clear when my own Western Plainchant: A Handbook appeared in 1993.
Now history has repeated itself, once again in the shape of two very different books.
London, British Library, Cotton MS Caligula A.xiv, from fol. 26r: The Annunciation
to Joachim
The first part of the manuscript Caligula A.xiv is an eleventh-century troper probably
made in Winchester for Worcester. In this illustration an angel announces to Joachim
that his wife Ann will bear a child. This will be a daughter, Mary, mother of Christ.
The illustration appears amid the trope verses to chants for Mass on the feast of
the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary, 8 September. Joachim is depicted as a
herdsman with a flock of animals. The story of Joachim and Ann is not biblical but
is related in the Greek Protevangelium of James, then in the Latin apocryphal gospel
of Pseudo-Matthew. Like all the pictures in MS Caligula A.xiv, this one is framed
by Latin verses in Leonine hexameters (that is, with internal rhyme, so named after
Leoninus, optimus organista of Notre-Dame in Paris c.1200):
Credidit angelico Ioiachim per nuntia verbo
credens foecundam conceptu germinis Annam
Christum glorificat inopi qui semper habundat
[Joachim believed the angelic word through the (divine) message, believing Ann
to be fertile by the conception of an child. He glorifies Christ, who is always
generous to one in need.]
xx
Chapter 1
1
2 Gregorian Chant
duty. ‘Office’ is usually restricted in Latin Christian worship to refer to the Office
hours, that is, the services other than Mass. Liturgy usually refers to everything
performed, in both the Mass and the Divine Office. In the Eastern churches the
term ‘liturgy’ is restricted to the Eucharist, the part of Mass where bread and wine
are given to the believers. (The Greek word eucharistia means ‘thanksgiving’.) The
word ‘liturgy’ can be used in conjunction with other terms to refer to something
more specific. So the ‘Good Friday liturgy’ refers to the services performed on Good
Friday.
Chant functions principally as a vehicle for the ceremonious declamation of
sacred Latin texts, whether by a single soloist, a small group or a choir. Chant-
ing the texts in a measured, disciplined manner is a good way for the group of
worshippers to act together; the more harmonious the singing, the more inspiring
the communal act. When soloists exert their full powers in singing, say, a tract or
offertory at Mass, they add a dimension to the religious experience commensu-
rate with all those other things beyond the Latin text that enhance worship, such
as the ceremonial actions, the vestments of the participants, and the architectural
setting, including such features as stained-glass windows. Music is one of many non-
verbal elements in worship, none the less essential for being difficult to describe in
words.
In the liturgy mankind gives thanks and praise to God, who is present during the
liturgy. Moreover, through the liturgy God acts to bestow his grace on mankind. He
is praised because he is above all things, transcendent, distinct from the universe.
He is thanked for creating the world and saving mankind through the gift of his
son, Jesus Christ. Praising, thanking and asking for God’s mercy are done in prayers,
while lessons (readings) recall important events in the history of salvation. In chants,
selected sentences are given a special musical setting which enhances their spirituality.
This is especially appropriate because God is a spirit, not material.
Over the centuries since Christianity was declared the state religion by the Roman
Emperor Constantine the Great (324–37) a complicated cycle of services was devel-
oped in which the praises of God were sung and the death and resurrection of Jesus
Christ were commemorated. Each day had its round of services, and each service
had its own particular form and content; and the services were performed each day
throughout the year. Some days were more important than others. Sundays were
more important than ordinary weekdays, and so too were special days in Christ’s
life, and days when holy men and women of particular significance for the history of
the church were commemorated. What was sung, and how much, depended on the
importance of the day. But even on an ordinary weekday with no special occasion
to be commemorated, the full cycle of services took up most of the day and part of
the night.
Gregorian chant in the service of the church 3
What right believing Christian can doubt that in the very hour of the sacrifice, at the
words of the Priest, the heavens be opened, and the quires of Angels are present in
that mystery of Jesus Christ; that high things are accomplished with low, and earthly
joined to heavenly, and that one thing is made of visible and invisible.
From The Dialogues of Gregory the Great, trans. P. W., ed. Edmund Gardner (London, 1911),
4.58. Original text in J.-P. Migne, Patrologia latina, vols. 75–78 (Paris, 1878–1903).
community performed the liturgy in the manner (including the language) estab-
lished as the right way for praise and commemoration. The religious community did
this both for itself and on behalf of the rest of mankind, for those who had mundane
occupations and no time for praise and commemoration but who needed to know
that the religious were acting for them, in the proper manner.
Many of us come to Gregorian chant from the standpoint of classical music. At
school and university, chant is often presented as Chapter One, as it were, in the long
story of the History of Western Music, probably in a programme of required reading
and listening. We might easily gain the impression that chant, monophonic music,
is hardly more than a primitive forerunner of more sophisticated and interesting
polyphonic music, in a progression moving steadily onward and upward. Or we may
simply have heard a lot of classical music in our formative years. It may take some
time to realize that chant does not ‘work’ in the same way as music from at least the
sixteenth century onwards. When William Byrd writes a motet on the text Defecit in
dolore (Cantiones sacrae, 1589), or Schubert a song such as Erstarrung (‘Ich such’ im
Schnee vergebens’, Die Winterreise, 1827), they match words and music (to varying
degrees, of course) in such a way that the music only makes expressive sense with
that particular text; there would be no reason to write this particular music if the
text were a different one. The relationship between melody and text in Gregorian
chant, on the other hand, is much more like that of a motet of the thirteenth century,
or a chanson of the fourteenth century by Guillaume de Machaut. In many of these
chansons the same music carries different verses of text because of the strophic form
or repetition scheme. Individual words will not be matched by a unique melodic
gesture, and individual turns of phrase in the music have none of the expressive
connotations they were later to carry.
This has two obvious implications for Gregorian chant. The first is that the same
text could be delivered in different ways according to the liturgical context, and the
same music could be used for different texts.
Here is an example:
‘Eripe me de inimicis meis, Deus meus’ is the start of Psalm 58 (Psalm 59 in the King
James Bible): ‘Deliver me from mine enemies, O my God’. The whole psalm will be
chanted to a simple tone, with the same melodic formula for every verse, on Tuesday
each week during the Night Office (if not displaced by the different selection of pieces
needed for a special feast day). The first verse of the psalm alone is sung as the central
section of some of the great responsories of the Night Office, such as Adiutor et
susceptor and Ne perdas cum impiis on Passion Sunday. In this context Eripe me is sung to
a more elaborate tone than a simple psalm. These tones, one for each of the eight
modes, are used hundreds of times in the course of a year. Elsewhere in the Office hours,
Eripe me turns up in some manuscripts as the beginning of a simple antiphon sung at
6 Gregorian Chant
Lauds on Friday each week. Turning to the Mass, we find it as a gradual, coupled with
other phrases of similar import from Psalm 17. Here it is sung on Passion Sunday to an
elaborate mode-3 melody, which shares melodic phrases with other mode-3 graduals. But
this is by no means all. An alleluia in mode 2 sung on one of the summer Sundays of the
year has Eripe me as its verse, and two offertories also begin with the same phrase, one in
mode 7 for the Wednesday of Passion Week, and one in mode 3 for the Monday of Holy
Week. All these very different ways of declaiming the text are appropriate for their
liturgical purpose. It goes without saying that none of the melodies, from simple psalm
tone to ornate offertory, express in a modern, personal way the feelings of a man
oppressed by his enemies.
Further reading
The study of religious worship in its wider sense, and not restricted to Christianity,
involves the very large subject areas of anthropology and theology, waters too deep
to enter here. Christian worship is treated in a wider context in Eliade, Patterns
in Comparative Religion. See also the opening chapters in Senn, Christian Liturgy: