Review Summary: O dulcis divinitas, et o suavis vita.
Women of Classical Music. No. 5
When something quite piques your interest it’s natural to try to find out everything you can about it. I had an experience like that with my first great love in art history, the Etruscans. Their art and their architecture is just so unique, so ancient, and so breathtaking that it’s impossible to not want to know more about them. There’s so much I’d love to say about the Etruscans, but I’ll refrain because there’s a point I want to make; there’s barely anything for certain history can tell us about them. For one thing, we don’t know where they’re from. There’s strong but inconclusive evidence for either eastern Turkey, Europe proper, or aboriginal Italy. Nor can we decipher their language, partly because it’s not Indo-European, unlike, you know, ninety-nine percent of the languages and dialects spoken in the western hemisphere except for Finnish and Basque. And of their literature which was evidently as robust as that of the Greeks and Romans, we know next to nothing because it is all gone. The Etruscans are just so damn mysterious, and the mystery grows the interest.
It’s like that with Saint Hildegarde von Bingen. Just who is this 12th century visionary, polymath, musician, writer, poet, playwright, Christian mystic, inventor of languages, and as of 2012, Doctor of the Church. For a female, Hildegarde’s place in history seems like an utter anachronism. Women of the Medieval era were in general to be seen and not heard. Yet, through her outstanding scholarship Hildegarde transcended more than just one of the traditional bans placed on women in the Middle Ages. Among other feats, Hildegard went on four
public preaching tours, traveling widely throughout Germania. She really must have been as impressive as impressive gets.
Hildegarde’s
Ordo Virtutum, or The Way of Virtue, certainly had something to do with it. Written in 1151, O.V. is a unique liturgical drama, basically the world’s first morality play, a genre Hildegarde invented. The play is in five acts: the prologue, the lament of the souls, the identification of the virtues, the repentance of the
anima, and the finale. The plot boils down to the soul,
anima, and its struggle between the path of the devil and the path of virtue. Although the plot is clearly religious, O.V. stands out for what it lacks: the bible and therefore Jesus, miracles, and saints. In the O.V., Hildegarde’s theology is personal, spiritual rather than clerical or dogmatic. She emphasizes the relationship between the creator and the created, and the formative actions the created can take to be nearer to the creator.
But what’s the point of reviewing a play for a music website？The music in the play, of course. O.V. is comprised of eighty-two original melodies set to original Latin text all sung in plainchant, except for that of the devil who, shouting, is incapable of harmony. We see that this is the case in the Prologue:
Qui sunt hi qui ut nubes？(Who are these that are as clouds？), sung by a male chorus of Patriarchs and Prophets marveling at the purity of the Virtues. There’s an effortless effortlessness about Hildegarde’s chant. Before the invention of the tonic-dominant system of the Common Practice Period, music was composed using the old church modes, five out of seven of which were dropped in preference for the major and minor. If you’re familiar with Jazz (or those d-bags in Dream Theater), you’ll recognize the names of the modes: ionian, dorian, phrygian, lydian, mixolydian, aeolian, and locrian. This is to say that the key in which a melody or piece could be set was not relegated to either the major (Ionian) or minor (Aeolian) modes. Up until the Baroque period, a melody, for example, could be set in D-dorian, E-phrygian, F-lydian, etc. Briefly, the notes from C to C (CDEFGABC) give you a C major scale, but the notes from D to D (DEFGABCD) do not give you D major; they give you D-dorian. It seems reasonable that one could compose using D to D, does it not？It does.
So, why then were these modes dropped in preference for the major and minor？Well because the major and minor have an intrinsic sense of finality, yet finality is not representative of the idea that God is, always was, and always will be. The church modes, therefore, are much preferable for the music of God. Chant music, and much of pre-Baroque modal music in general, gives off the impression that its melodies are present whether or not they’ve been written, that they’re only waiting for the composer to pluck the notes out of the eternal ether. Hildegarde’s O.V. is no different.
But Hildegard also infuses the music with a unique dynamism, especially so in her use of the melisma, the singing of a single syllable on multiple different pitches in succession. Throughout the O.V. Hildegard pushes the boundaries of Gregorian Chant with moments of melismatic ecstasy. Look at the first sung word,
Qui. It’s a melisma of eleven notes that begins high, around the nexus of a single note, and ends below, all emphasizing the word “Who”. It’s important to pay attention to which words are receiving melismatic treatment. Are they being emphasized for musical or narrative purposes？As the first word of the play
Qui will naturally receive melismatic treatment. After the Patriarchs and Prophets ask their question, the Virtues, a chorus of seventeen females, respond in kind, rhetorically asking why they are being admired for the word of God is already in man, virtue but shapes man. Again, it’s important to pay attention to which words receive the strongest treatment. Here, Hildegarde’s melody soars on “admire”, “God”, “grows”, and “bright”.
In between the prologue and scene one comes the procession of embodied souls. There is no singing, rather there is “procession” music that evokes the souls of men, actually in this case its women, floating ploddingly onto the stage one by one. As you will see in the next scene, the souls are in a state of desperation. The music is hard to describe, but it’s clearly Medieval if you know what I mean. Just like the chants, Hildegarde’s procession music has no discernable beginning or end, but unlike the chants there are two lines present at once. In other words, it’s polyphonic rather than monophonic. Perhaps Hildegarde’s decision to treat the human voice in monophony underscores the longest held musical belief in western history, that the voice is the perfect instrument, and that the best instrumental music strives to replicate the voice. This belief lasted all the way up to the death of CPE Bach some six-hundred and forty years later, by the way.
Scene one begins with very typical Christian dogma, the lament of the embodied souls expressing their desperation to escape the weakness of their humanly bodies. It’s notable that for the most part the melody stays in the lower register of the female voice, the alto. However, we do reach the soprano on two very important words, “king” and “kingdom”. In general, the moments of musical ecstasy reach their heights on the words that describe God and his kingdom. Next is the procession of the play’s main protagonist, the embodied female soul. The lines are faster and more upbeat for at the moment the soul is happy. On stage, she invokes the Virtues, expressing her wish to be nearer to them. Yet, the Virtues tell her that she must stay on earth for it is her duty. Who is she to defy the will of God？Be steadfast, they tell her, and she will not fall into the arms of the devil. On cue, in comes the devil himself, bereft of harmony, shouting that it is pointless to toil between heaven and earth for earthly rewards are enough. Here is an important musical moment, the Virtues rebuke the devil with an added line of accompaniment, in effect underscoring their divinity in contrast with the devil who not only is not accompanied by divine harmony, but himself cannot produce it. Brilliant. Nevertheless, the combination of the words of the devil and the desperation of the
anima are enough to convince her to depart in his company.
If you think that all Medieval music is dourly you’d be wrong. In between scenes one and two is the first “Instrumental Dance”. Imagine yourself at a Renaissance fair, this is what the music sounds like. It’s almost like an Irish gigue. The instruments are solo and are all highly florid in nature, especially the flute. Of what its purpose is in the context of the play I know not. It is not clear. One possibility that has been suggested is that the dance music evokes the temptation of an aesthetic devil.
Scene two is by far the longest. Interspersed with insults from the devil, the Virtues take turns identifying themselves: Humility (Queen of the Virtues), Hope, Chastity, Innocence, Contempt of the World, Discipline, Celestial Love, Modesty, Mercy, Victory, Discretion, Patience, Knowledge of God, Charity, Fear of God, Obedience, and Faith. Lamenting and ashamed, we are now in scene three, the
anima repents for its failure in succumbing to the pleasures of the devil and wishes to draw nearer to the Virtues. But the devil will not let go of the
anima without a fight. Light, however, is stronger than darkness, and the Virtues succeed in binding the devil. The play ends with the Virtues and the
anima retelling a uniquely abridged version of the book of Genesis that serves as a recapitulation of the play and a warning to fellow embodied souls, draw nearer to He who has created you or succumb to the weight of your bodily jewels.
Hildegarde’s
Ordo Virtutum presents humanity with as story as old as time itself, the battle between good and evil. And unlike the apocalyptic visions in the book of Revelations or the firebrand preachers that dotted Europe for centuries, Hildegarde’s vision of salvation is uplifting, one that believes the devil can be thwarted through the desire to be nearer to God and his grace. But do not mistake the O.V. for a mere story or fable; it’s text is much deeper than that. Hildegarde speaks to a divine truth, to something we all recognize as real whether it’s in a religious context or not.
