The Choir Project al día | 18-X-2014

William Byrd [c. 1540-1623]: O salutaris hostia á 4 | Gradualia ac cantiones sacrae, 3-5vv [London, 1605].
Stile Antico • Fretwork.
Rejoicing for voices and viols.

  David Skinner wrote about Byrd's Gradualia:
«As the reign of Elizabeth I symbolizes the Renaissance of English humanism and the stability of English culture, so William Byrd, in his assimilation of musical ideas past and present, represents the technical and emotional refinement of the music of the Latin church. However, we are presented here with a curious paradox, for Byrd lived at a time when music for the Latin rite was outmoded, its creation and promul­gation considered dangerous in the hothouse of Elizabethan church politics. England’s Golden Age of polyphony under the earlier Tudors could boast some of the finest composers in Europe, who had thrived within a musical tradition unbroken until the introduction of Protestant ordinances in the mid 1530s and 1540s. As a boy Byrd came to know intimately the liturgy of the pre-Reformation English church, knowledge which must have left a lasting impression on his later musical character as a recusant Catholic. (The general assumption that the composer was born in 1543 has been disproved thanks to ground-breaking scholarship of recent years. Byrd was significantly older when he died than had been previously thought, a finding which invites a complete reassessment of his life and the context of his works.) Apart from Mary I’s brief Catholic revival in the 1550s, elaborate music-making exemp­lified in the great surviving pre-Reformation choirbooks such as Eton, Lambeth and Caius was banned from all English churches, collegiate and monastic; by the end of the 1540s, and with the death of Henry VIII, Latin church music was replaced by a simplified vernacular version of the liturgy, and the English anthem and service were born.

  It has been a great concern of scholars to account for the prodigious number of Byrd’s surviving Latin works when, by Elizabeth’s own proclamations, it would have been illegal to perform them in his own time. However, Elizabeth herself was an accomplished musician who held deep Catholic sentiments and Byrd was indeed among her favourite musicians. Byrd studied under Tallis and would doubtless have been familiar with the works of a number of pre-Reformation composers such as Cornysh and Fayrfax; he probably also had regular access to his patron John Lord Lumley’s extensive collection of printed foreign editions at Nonesuch Palace from which to gain new ideas. As, then, the most promising composer England could boast it is perhaps fair to suggest that Elizabeth was quite happy to grant him unlimited freedom of musical expression. In 1575 Byrd, with Tallis, gained a monopoly on music printing in England. Elizabeth granted full privilege and licence for twenty-one years ‘to imprint any and so many as they will of set songe or songes in partes, either in English, Latine, … or other tongues that may serue for musicke either in Churche or chamber’. Byrd therefore had royal approval to compose and print what he desired without persecution. Upon Tallis’s death ten years later, Byrd retained this privilege and produced several editions of his own works.

  Byrd’s three settings of the Mass Ordinary (for three, four and five voices) are widely known and do not require substantial elaboration here. All were published in the mid 1590s, and it is generally agreed that the Mass for five voices (arguably the most beautiful of the three) was the last to be composed. It is not surprising that stylistically Byrd broke from the great tradition of pre-Reformation English Mass settings, following a fallow period of some forty years in this genre. In the Mass for five voices thematic connections between the movements rarely exist; although a head motif launches them in a similar fashion, thereafter the style is governed largely by the text, rather than developing musical ideas and cross-reference such as may be found in the Masses of Ludford and Fayrfax. Most notable are those portions of the text which prominently profess the Catholic faith, through which we might read Byrd’s own particular and profound identification. In the Credo, for example, we hear the words ‘Et unam sanctam catholicam et apostolicam ecclesiam’ boldly iterated, whereas in earlier English Mass settings the words ‘Jesu Christe’ are normally emphasized.

  Byrd’s greatest achievement in music publishing was his ambitious two-volume collection of the Gradualia, which contain settings of Mass Propers for the church year. It is not known whether these works were intended to be performed in a liturgical framework, or indeed along with any of Byrd’s own Mass settings as presented on this recording. In the political climate of the time it is unlikely that they would have been performed by the Queen’s Chapel Royal, of which Byrd was a member from 1570; this leads to the supposition that they were designed for use in the chapel of a recusant household. Such households may well have been able to maintain a choir capable of meeting the extreme technical demands of the Gradualia, but it is likely that Latin music of the time was performed by small forces—even as few as one to a part—with a female voice singing the top line. However, this does not preclude the possibility that the sound Byrd himself imagined was that of his own choir of the men and boys of the Chapel Royal, had political circumstances permitted.

  Byrd’s Propers for the Mass of Corpus Christi are published in the first book of the «Gradualia» (London, 1605), where the Magnificat antiphons O sacrum convivium and O quam suavis est are also found together with the Hymns to the Blessed Sacrament Ave verum corpus and O salutaris hostia.

  The Feast of Corpus Christi commemorates the institution and gift of the Holy Eucharist, traditionally celebrated in the Western Church on the Thursday after Trinity Sunday. (In the early church this commemoration was held on its natural day in the Christian calendar, Maundy Thursday, on which the Eucharist was instituted at the Last Supper; however, in reserving this day as part of the Passion ceremonies, a new feast day was recognized in 1264 and set on the first free Thursday after Eastertide.) The texts reflect a sacrificial tone as befits the Corpus Christi celebrations, embodying the imagery of the ingestion of blood and body. As the medieval symbol of the Body of Christ illustrates, the mother Pelican’s beak penetrates her own breast, giving life-blood to benefit the hunger of her young. Ironically, Byrd chose the bright and cheerful mixolydian mode for his setting. The Introit Cibavit eos is delightfully radiant, and celebrates the biblical miracle of wheat and honey from the rock. Here the antiphon is followed by a Psalm verse (80:1) for reduced voices, and an energetic and semi-homophonic setting of the doxology (‘Gloria Patri’) with a deliberate break before the ‘Sicut erat’, quite typical in Byrd’s Introit settings. As the liturgy would dictate, the antiphon is repeated at the end of the work (although this is not directed in the printed sources).

  The Gradual Oculi omnium is a reposed petition for the blood and flesh of Christ, which is anticipated in the beautiful three-part verse ‘Aperis tu manum tuam’ with the appended Alleluia ‘Caro mea’, and finally resolved when the four-part texture resumes with vigour at the words ‘qui manducat meam carnem’. In English music of this period it is unusual to find such direct expression of the dramatic implications of the text. Throughout the Gradualia Byrd’s response is typically eloquent and powerful, from the short and simple Offertory Sacerdotes Domini (considered by many to be the gem of the Corpus Christi Mass), to the more robust and almost madrigalian setting of the Communion Quotiescunque manducabitis.

  Additional Propers for the related Votive Mass of the Blessed Sacrament are printed in the second book of the Gradualia (London, 1607), which additionally contains the Processional Hymn Pange lingua gloriosi (Byrd’s setting is not included on this recording but is sung to plainchant, as is the Corpus Christi Sequence Lauda Sion salvatorem) and the Benedictus antiphon for Lauds Ego sum panis vivus. (Owing to repeated reference to the Eucharist, the Corpus Christi Mass texts are appropriate for inclusion in the Votive Mass of the Blessed Sacrament.) The Tract Ab ortu solis would have been sung if the Votive Mass fell during the penitential season, and the Alleluia ‘Cognoverunt discipuli’ only in Paschal Time. However, these items are nevertheless related thematically to Byrd’s Corpus Christi Mass. The second half of the Alleluia actually restates the music of ‘Caro mea’ from the Gradual Oculi omnium, while the second part of the Tract (‘Venite, comedite’) is structurally very similar to the Introit Cibavit eos. (Several items in the «Gradualia» are repeated within the same feast or even from one feast to another, no doubt for economical considerations.)

  The lesser-known companion Hymn O salutaris hostia is also thought to be an early work. Here Byrd fully exploits his technical mastery of interlocking imitative phrases; the polyphony gradually intensifies and with the words ‘bella premunt’ climaxes with trumpet-like entries.»

  Wonderful English performance for English music.
The quality of the performers is really amazing. For me, Stile Antico is simply one of the best five vocal ensembles in the world.

  Enjoy they, enjoy William Byrd, the best English composer in history.

The Choir Project al día | 13-IX-2014

William Byrd [c. 1540-1623]: Ave verum corpus á 4 | Gradualia ac cantiones sacrae, 3–5vv [London, 1605].
Stile Antico.
Four parts to perfection.

  Philip Brett wrote about Byrd and his Gradualia:

  «William Byrd, the leading composer in Elizabethan England, appears to have retired from active life at court around 1593, his fiftieth year. He moved his family from Harlington (near the present Heathrow airport) to a village on the other side of London deep in the Essex countryside. His new home at Stondon Massey was a few miles from Ingatestone, the more private of the two Essex seats of a landed magnate named Sir John Petre, one of Byrd’s richest patrons. Like Byrd and his family, the Petres were Roman Catholics, and Ingatestone was a protected centre where the Roman liturgy could be celebrated with little interference from hostile authorities. Byrd’s move also marked the beginning of a new phase in his composition. Motets of protest and tribulation, written in an expansive and often madrigalian style, and clearly aimed at the situation of the Roman Catholic minority in England, had been characteristic of the Cantiones Sacrae of 1589 and 1591. From 1593 onwards Byrd conceived and brought to completion an ambitious plan to provide music for the Roman liturgy (and for extra-liturgical devotions) in a more concentrated, terse style that in many ways suited the requirements of the Catholic reformers, especially the Jesuits to whom he seems to have been especially close.

  The first works he completed in this characteristically thorough scheme were three settings of the Ordinary of the Mass, in three, four and five parts, published between 1593 and 1595. But the culmination came a decade later with two books of a collection entitled Gradualia and published in 1605 and 1607. The principal contents of these volumes are the Propers of the Mass (Introit, Gradual, Alleluia or Tract, Offertory, Communion, and sometimes the Sequence) for each of the principal feasts of the Roman Church year as well as for the votive Masses of the Blessed Virgin and the Holy Sacrament. One of the most notable features of this collection is that the texts are always those of the reformed Roman Missal of 1570. Byrd makes no attempt to rehabilitate the Sarum rite which was observed in most places in England before the Reformation and again during the reign of Mary I—even though he had paid direct tribute to England’s Catholic musical past by self-consciously making specific musical references to a Mass by John Taverner (c1495–1545) in his own four-part setting of the Ordinary. Characteristically for someone allied with the Jesuit party, however, his Gradualia eschews religious nostalgia for a rather strong dose of the militant spirit associated with Catholic reform.

  The opening fascicle of Book I, containing music for five voices, is illustrative of this militancy. It opens with twenty-five settings of Latin texts that comprise the entire material of those parts of the Roman liturgy connected with the Blessed Virgin Mary. None of the festivals associated with her (other than the Visitation and the Purification, the latter renamed as the Presentation of Our Lord), and absolutely nothing of what Protestants regarded as the idolatrous devotion surrounding her, remained in the reformed English Church. After this formidable block of pieces occur a song and two motets. The song, Adoramus te Christe, is the setting of a text associated with the worship of the Holy Cross, and the two motets, Unam petii and Plorans plorabit, reflect the spirit of the ‘political’ motets of the 1589 and 1591 collections. The text of Plorans plorabit, which refers to a ‘captive flock’ and warns of the imminent downfall of a king and queen, would surely have been regarded as treason had it not come from a genuine biblical source. The fascicle concludes, moreover, with a setting of the Propers for the feast of All Saints, the growing significance of which for English Catholics was as a commemoration of their ever-increasing number of martyrs.

  The Marian Masses that form the contents of this recording include not only the Marian Feasts generally authorised in 1605, but also the votive Masses associated with the Virgin. A votive Mass is a Mass offered for a particular intention or purpose, either on behalf of a group of people, or, as in this case, to a saint who was thought to possess special powers of entreaty at the throne of heaven. The votive Mass of the Virgin, often called ‘Lady Mass’, was traditionally offered on Saturdays and was not part of the office of the day, though its texts always reflected the progress of the church year.

The Feasts and votive Masses of the Virgin employ a revolving cycle of texts which come from a limited number of sources (Psalms 14, 23, 44 and 47, Luke chapters 1, 2 and 10, and single passages from Isaiah and Numbers). These texts recur over and over again on occasions when supplication to or celebration of the Virgin Mary transpires. In the printed Roman Graduals of the later sixteenth century, economies were made by printing each chant associated with these texts once only (usually under the heading of an important feast such as the Nativity of the Virgin), the singers being referred to the appropriate folio when they needed to sing that chant in another liturgical context.

  Byrd emulated this system from his Gradual, but was able to take it much further because, ignoring the chant, he was free to make one polyphonic setting do for any replication of text. In the opening Mass of the Purification, for instance, the Introit and Gradual require two separate chants, but because they both employ the same verses of Psalm 47 (the Gradual stopping slightly earlier than the Introit), Byrd was able to make do with one setting for both. With characteristic doggedness, Byrd followed this scheme to its logical conclusion. In so doing he created ‘motets’ like Diffusa est gratia (22) that are a collection of verses never performed exactly as they stand on any single liturgical occasion. Gaudeamus omnes, which follows it, is the head of the ‘Assumption Introit’ joined unceremoniously to the rump of the Alleluia for that feast. And inevitably the composer made some mistakes, leaving out a phrase here (as in the Offertory of the Purification), reversing the order of a set of verses there (as in Alleluia, Ave Maria, Alleluia, Virga Iesse, whose verses are the wrong way round for the Eastertide votive Mass, one of the two occasions they serve).

  The wonder is that Byrd managed to pull off this cut-and-paste scheme at all. For what it entailed musically was the writing of twenty-five pieces, many of them extensive, in the same mode and with the same voice ranges. It also entailed striving for a certain unity of expressive effect—not of course because of any anachronistic ideals of musical organization but simply to observe liturgical decorum, a quality which Byrd’s intimate, low-keyed and ultimately rewarding polyphony admirably reflects. This music has a restrained but intense devotional spirit for which parallels are hard to find. It repays frequent and attentive hearings.

  These twenty-five pieces, then, contain the music for Mass at eight feasts of the Church (including one with a Vigil—Mass celebrated the day before—and two with Octaves—Masses celebrated during the week terminating with the eighth day after the feast), and for the five different seasons of Lady Mass. Of these Byrd acknowledged only four feasts and two (or possibly three) votive Masses in the headings he distributed somewhat laconically throughout the publication. The feasts (in the order of the print) are those of the Purification (2 February), the Nativity of the Virgin (8 September), the Annunciation (25 March), and the Assumption (15 August). The votive Masses are those of Advent and ‘post Nativitatem Domini’ (i.e. after Christmas) with a cryptic and incorrect reference to the season after Septuagesima Sunday. The Nativity’s Propers were also sung on the Feasts of the Visitation (2 July) and the Conception (8 December). The Feasts of the Dedication of Our Lady of the Snow (5 August) and of the Presentation (21 November) derive their Mass Propers from the votive Mass of the season (although Venetian Graduals from which Byrd worked assign to the Presentation the Propers of the Nativity). These were the only Marian occasions generally authorized by the Roman Missal in 1605; Catholics familiar with the Missal immediately before Vatican II will be surprised by the modesty of the late sixteenth-century liturgy of the Virgin compared with its later, more prodigal manifestations.

  Byrd’s rubrics are as laconic as his liturgical headings, and a good deal less frequent, but they confirm the nature of this cryptic scheme. Following it through and singing it feast by feast and Lady Mass by Lady Mass would entail enormous repetition, especially of such perennial texts as the verse ‘Eructavit cor meum’. With the aid of technology we are fortunately able to preserve Byrd’s order and to do our own cutting and pasting at the controls of the compact-disc player.

The system is particularly advantageous to modern listeners because it puts them in a position comparable to that of contemporary users of Byrd’s publication. By those for whom the liturgy means nothing (and there were contemporary Anglican music lovers who presumably enjoyed these pieces as ‘Latin songs’ without scrutinizing them for liturgical function), the music can be heard in its printed order with no repetition. The care Byrd took to shape the pieces (ending settings of the Gradual verse, for instance, with a full-voiced alleluia, even though that alleluia belongs, liturgically speaking, to its own subsequent verse) is an indication that he was concerned about his numbers as individual pieces of music, observing an aesthetic decorum which governed all his actions.

Those who do care about liturgical occasion, or who wish to explore the ideal scheme that lurked behind Byrd’s cryptic presentation, have the ability with the track guide to realize any aspect of the scheme in a way comparable to that available to a contemporary Roman Catholic extremely well versed in the 1570 Missal. It could be argued that the repetition of the Introit after the psalm verse and doxology ought to have been obligatory, but that would have meant another disc and the impossibility of easily exploring the more ingenious and out-of-the-way aspects of Byrd’s transfer scheme. As it is, the interested student of Byrd may compare the effect of the Nativity and Advent votive Mass Propers with or without the alleluias which occur with them in the print but which belong only to Paschal time (between Easter and Pentecost); and such portmanteau numbers as Diffusa est gratia can be distributed into their correct liturgical allocations instead of being heard as a lump.

  For those who tend to regard Gradualia (or any other historical document) as unambiguously intended and to interpret it accordingly, history has preserved a suitably enigmatic piece of evidence. Among contemporary manuscripts which contain pieces from Gradualia, one (and only one) is given over largely to a copy of the contents of the first book. It comes from the household of a Roman Catholic squire of north Norfolk, Edward Paston (1550–1630). By a supreme stroke of historical irony it includes among its many pieces no single set of Propers: there is always one piece missing, and of course this missing link can indicate a variety of explanations. But it is clear that even among the circles in which Byrd was most likely to be appreciated (I have argued elsewhere that Byrd wrote songs celebrating events in Paston’s family life), the understanding of his grand design may well have been less complete or more complicated than we can now appreciate.

  It is fortunate that we can recapture an ideal form of that design today, and follow through the many permutations of the material in this kaleidoscopic collection of pieces. We will perhaps acknowledge, while doing so, the extraordinary courage it must have taken to publish the book at all during a time when, as it turned out during the fateful events of 5 November 1605, simply being Roman Catholic was itself grounds for suspicion of treason and sedition. In the aftermath of the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot, a man from Cambrai named Charles de Ligny was arrested at an inn near the Tower of London and thrown into Newgate prison ‘on account of certain papistical books written by William Byrd, and dedicated to the Seigneur Henry Houardo (Howard), Earl of Northampton’, which were found on him, i.e. the partbooks of the first book of Gradualia. It is possible that the book was hurriedly withdrawn or recalled—only one copy of the original edition survives. But as early as 1607 Byrd could publish a second book of the collection, and in 1610 he managed to reissue both books with a fresh imprint. It is difficult to assess the true impact on an illustrious citizen of the effect of religious persecution and political coercion during an age as far distant as Jacobean England, but Byrd’s dogged pursuit of his Roman Catholic faith and of his grand musical design is a special illustration from those difficult times of the power of the human spirit and the intensity of the artistic endeavour that it can engender.»

  In words of David Skinner:

 «Perhaps the most popular and widely performed of all Byrd’s compositions is the exquisitely understated Ave verum corpus. Written in G dorian against the mixolydian Propers it is an almost unique example of modal mismatch in the Gradualia. As befits Byrd’s earlier devotional motets for penitence Ave verum corpus contains intense homophonic statements coupled with lucid counterpoint (most notably at the plea ‘miserere mei’), which suggests that the work may significantly predate its publication. The lesser-known companion Hymn O salutaris hostia is also thought to be an early work. Here Byrd fully exploits his technical mastery of interlocking imitative phrases; the polyphony gradually intensifies and with the words ‘bella premunt’ climaxes with trumpet-like entries.»

  At last, Peter Phillips said:

  «Finally we come to a composition from the 1605 Gradualia, a set of liturgical settings which were amongst the last things Byrd wrote. The famous hymn to the Blessed Sacrament, customarily sung as a Communion motet, Ave verum corpus, has the same intensity of expression as the Mass for four voices, though its compositional style is even more direct. Here he took a leaf out of the Protestants’ book and set the words in chords, so that they may be heard. True, they are in Latin, but every Catholic knew the meaning of this text. The only slight elaboration in the music is at the words ‘miserere mei’, where there is some simple imitation between the voices and a beautiful semitonal clash in the harmony.

  The music on this disc has shown that Byrd was capable both of great complexity and great simplicity; but for many people there is enough power in the Ave verum corpus for them to need nothing more.»

  This is a fantastic live performance by Stile Antico, recorded in concert at the Wigmore Hall on 30th May 2013 and later broadcast by Sky Arts. Their sonority is simply exquisite. Stile Antico is for me one of the best five vocal ensembles in the world. Renaissance polyphony is simply stunning in their voices and versions. Here, elegance, delicacy, expression and an impressive and an impressive and deep knowledge of the characteristics of the particular language of Byrd's compositions.

One of the best pieces in Western Music History in voices of one of the best ensembles in this moment.

  Absolute paradise!