The Medieval Chant “Requiem”
Our ancestors who painted wonderful pictures of animals on the walls and ceilings of caves must also have made some wonderful music. Unfortunately, they never discovered a way to make a record of their music. And so, we have no way of hearing their music today.
Highly advanced civilizations such as the Greeks and the Egyptians must have had highly advanced music commensurate with their cultural expressions in other art forms, such as architecture, painting and sculpture. But, unfortunately again, they never discovered a way to make a record of their music. In their other arts, we encounter numerous depictions of musical instruments and performers. We know they had music. But the songs themselves remain sadly silent. The Greeks, who had more than a word for it, have even left us profound philosophical treatises on the importance of music as a means of opening the heavens of the gods to mere mortals. But, still, we have no way of hearing their actual music.
Medieval monks, around the year 1000, began developing a way of writing down the prayersongs they sang. Until then, new monks would have learned prayersongs from old monks by osmosis, much the same way a baby in a highchair today learns how to sing “Happy Birthday to You” by imitating the wonderful sounds her family is making around that big, burning cake on the table. Guido D’Arezzo is traditionally credited with beginning to figure out a way to put the sounds of a scale on a staff of lines and spaces. The rest is, quite literally, music history! Now we can hear what all different styles of music sound like, at least all different styles of music composed from the year 1000 to the present.
Let’s look at – and listen to – an example of medieval chant. “Christus factus est obediens” (ed. note: turn on your audio ) is an exceptionally beautiful prayersong. It is called a Gradual because it was written to be sung at Mass on Holy Thursday after the reading of the Epistle. It’s text is taken from Paul’s Epistle to the Phillipians. The Latin words and music are printed below in the music manuscript. In translation, they tell us: “Christ became obedient for us even unto death, even unto death on a cross. Because of this, God has exalted him and given him a name which is above every name.”
And this brings us to the single most important fact there is to know about medieval chant: each and every medieval chant melody was written to bring out the meaning of its prayer text. A medieval composer did not write the music first and think about words afterward. A medieval nun humming over her baking did not look up, smile and say, “That’s a lovely melody. I think I’ll use it for a prayersong.” A medieval monk did not stop suddenly in the midst of blending herbal medicines and say, “That’s a wonderful bit of music buzzing in my head; I’ll try to find some words for it when I finish here.” The music of chant always grew out of prayerful study of the prayer text it would eventually accompany, the prayer text it was created to accompany, the prayer text that was its very reason for being.
This most important characteristic of medieval chant will become obvious to us by looking at the following manuscript, both seeing and hearing how the music brings out the inherent meaning of the prayer text. Even the rhythm of the music follows the natural prose rhythm of the Latin prose text, the natural primary and secondary accents of the Latin words. That is why there is no regularly recurring beat in medieval music as there is in modern music. That is why the rhythm of chant is called “free rhythm.” It is a gentle rhythm, a light and natural pulsation. It does not invite us to dance. It does not move us to march It calls us to pray.
Before we try to do that, however, let’s look for a moment at the manuscript of the medieval music and at the musical notation itself. We notice, first of all, that the notes are not oval as in modern notation but square or diamond shaped. Each little square note or punctum was marked on the staff with a flat-nibbed feather, a quill. That’s why the notes are square. Each punctum is held for a single beat or sometimes doubled by a dot. The notes are read from left to right. When one is on top of another, however, the bottom note is sung first. In this particular chant, a do clef marks the top line as do. So we count down do-ti-la-sol-fa. We start on fa. The first word, “Christus,” was intoned by a cantor since there was no instrumental accompaniment used and the other singers would have to know what pitch to sing when they enter on the second word, “factus.”
Looking at the music over the words, we notice there are many notes over the word, “nobis” emphasizing the great number of “us” for whom Christ gives his life. We next notice a lot of notes soaring high over the word “obediens” and the stark simplicity of the music for “mortem.” But for “even to death on a cross,” the melody climbs and falls and climbs again with many notes, emphasizing “crucis.” And, in the opinion of the medieval composer, what is the single most important word in this entire text? What one word has the composer highlighted with the most notes and the highest melody? We examine the manuscript, looking for an answer and we discover that the word is “him” or “illum” in the phrase, “God has exalted him… Deus exaltavit illum.” The word itself is exalted in this prayerful tonal painting. The next greatest number of notes we see used are for the word, “nomen” or “name” in the phrase, “and given him a name which is above every name.” This is how the composer brings out the meaning of the text for the medieval praying community and for us.
It is highly improbable that this particular prayersong would one day be found on a multi-platinum best-selling compact disc in the 1990’s! But that is precisely what has happened. We can now listen to “Christus factus est obediens” (Ed. note: chant) being sung by the Benedictine Monks of Santo Domingo de Silos in Spain as we prayerfully follow the manuscript.
This chant was written to be sung by a small group of monks, a schola cantorum, such as we hear on the Spanish disc. Some chants were sung by the whole congregation or community. Other chants were more artistically sophisticated and more technically difficult. They could be sung well only by a specially trained group. For example, the opening song at Mass (called an Introit) would be written to be sung by the whole congregation, while the response to the epistle (called a Gradual) would be sung by a specially trained schola.
In the very beautiful Requiem Mass in chant which dates back to the seventh century, the Introit and the Gradual use the same text: “Requiem aetemam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua lucent eis ….Etemal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.” The same text is used, then, for congregational singing and for schola singing. Let’s look at – and listen to – one phrase to see and hear how differently it has been set to music in each instance.
This is how the text is set to: music in the Credo (Nicene Creed)
The melody moves in fairly step-wise progression and it is generally neumatic, that is there are generally no more than a few notes per syllable. The chironomy (or conducting motions) superimposed upon the notation indicates the dynamics of the music: the arsis (the surging of life and energy and the upward stroke in conducting) and the thesis (the quieting down, the rest or repose of musical energy and the downward stroke in conducting) always serve to bring out the natural accentuation of the Latin prosody. The melody is relatively simple and accessible to a congregation.
The chironomy superimposed upon the following melody from the Gradual indicates the same subservient fidelity to the words – even though the melody itself is much more melismatic (many notes per syllable) and sophisticated The melody for the same phrase as sung in the Gradual reads as follows:
Melismatic melody, free and flowing, functions here as a musical italicization of the Latin prose of the Gradual prayer. The light is, most emphatically, perpetual and it shines on many people. The liturgical music is clear and expressive. The words are prayer and are most important. Like most chant, therefore, this musical composition is churchkomponiert or through-composed, that is the composer keeps writing new music to suit the words as he or she moves along, rather than repeating melodic phrases. The music exists only to bring out the meaning of the words of the prayer. The music itself is not considered a separate entity.
Whether the prayersong is relatively simple or complex, intended to be sung by the entire congregation or a trained schola, the music of this medieval chant exists only to bring out the meaning of its prayer text That is the unique heart and art of this gloriously prayerful music. And that is, still, how God reaches us in this gentle, whispering wind