Motett and Anthem.
Winterfeld, a German writer on musical matters, derives the word motett from “mot,” the French for “a word,” referring to the verse of Holy Scripture which constitutes a motett; whilst other learned men connect it with the Latin verb “movere,” indicative of the livelier motion and the briskness it possesses, when compared with the Cantus Fermus; and there is yet a third derivation from “mutare,” to change—a reference to the changing sentiments and emotional characteristics of these musical settings, a noticeable feature in such stiff and formal times.
At one time the motett was made up of a theme and its treatment in different variations, after the manner of the Spanish “moto” in poetry. Motetts were also set to profane words in the early periods of their history, and they were forbidden to be used in church in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.
Dr. Stainer, in his “Dictionary of Musical Terms,” mentions the term “motett” as being synonymous with “pulpitre” in the fifteenth century, but for the last three hundred years the term has meant a piece of sacred music adapted to Latin words, and to be sung at high mass in the Roman Catholic Church, either instead of or as an addition to the offertory, which was to be set to the music of the plainsong. Motetts by Philip of Vitrisco date back as far as the year 1300. At the commencement of that century the motett became a much more living form, when represented by such composers as our English John Dunstable, the Flemish Du Fay, and others. Following these composers came the Netherlanders of Okenheim’s school, in the latter half of the fifteenth century, and they more definitely separated their motetts from the style of the masses in vogue.
In the latter there is a painful striving apparent, consequent on the feeling, almost of duty, that severe contrapuntal exhibitions must be displayed, whereas in the former there is breadth of style and general fitness of things, untrammelled by this artificiality.
In the sixteenth century the Flemish writers, headed by Josquin des Prés, made great moves onward, and gained the leading position in musical Europe by earnest work and pure and noble endeavours. They chose passages from the Gospels and the Book of Canticles for their motetts, and imbued them with characteristic individuality. At the same period the Lamentations of Jeremiah were largely drawn upon for subjects. In this and the fifteenth centuries we find a large collection of funeral motetts, named nœniæ, very reverent and beautiful. One by Josquin des Prés, founded on plain chant, and written in memory of his friend Okenheim (who was also his master), is very fine.
Petrucci, the father of type music printing, gave most of the earliest nœniæ to the world, many of which may be seen in the British Museum. In the middle of the sixteenth century motetts were, perhaps, influenced for good by the wonderful progress of the madrigal, but each part was written with a different text, and this confusion became an abuse. However, towards the latter part of the century that bright genius, Palestrina, proved himself to be as great a writer of motetts as he was of masses. He composed over three hundred to our knowledge, and in all probability there are more than that which have been lost. Cotemporary with this great light we find, in Italy, Morales, Anesio, Luca Marenzio, and, above all, Vittoria, who was almost as great a motett composer as Palestrina himself; in the Netherlands, Orlando di Lasso; in Venice, Willaert, and, later, Croce and the two Gabrielis.
Our English writers, Tallis and Byrd, whom we shall refer to again immediately, wrote as fine motetts as any produced by the foreign schools, under the title, “Cantiones Sacræ.” Dr. Tye, Dr. Fairfax, and others also added specimens to the English list. These motetts, as we shall see, became (after the Reformation) full anthems, which were in musical form motetts, but were set to English words. In some cases the English words are translations from the Latin. It is curious to find that Orlando Gibbons, in the seventeenth century, writing anthems for the church, christened his secular part-music “Madrigals and Motets,” thereby reverting to the old use of the term in connection with secular words only.
In the seventeenth century the motett still flourished in the Roman Church, but not for long, according to its old form. Mr. Rockstro attributes the downfall of the old motett to the invention, by Monteverde, of dominant unprepared dissonances, which “sapped the foundation of the Polyphonic School.”
Thus, after 1660 the motett was a composition in modern tonality and with orchestral accompaniments. Amongst composers in this style we find Scarlatti, Pergolesi, Durante, and others, followed later on by Keiser in Germany and Sebastian Bach, and then Graun, Hasse, and Hiller. Handel wrote motetts in his earlier years. In modern times, as I have had reason to point out to you in other forms, titles are appended to works which are, to say the least, inappropriate, and the only claim these have to the name motett is that they were originally intended to be sung at High Mass. Such are the “Insanæ et vanæ curæ” of Haydn, “Splendente te Deus” of Mozart, and the “O Salutaris” of Cherubini. The term “motetus,” given in early times to the medius or middle voice part, is probably in no way connected with the derivation of the word motett.
The motett form appears in Church music of Queen Elizabeth’s time, and although the anthem was gradually substituted, some of the earliest anthems after the Reformation were in motett style, especially those of Tallis and Byrd.
About the derivation of “anthem” there is as much dispute as there is over the word “motett.” Some consider it to be derived from “ant-hymn,” a kind of antiphony, though the very ancient custom of choir responding to choir, or choir to priest, has entirely disappeared in the modern form of anthem. This responsive or antiphonal singing may, in a highly-developed form, yet become the anthem of the future, at any rate in churches and cathedrals where the voices at disposal are good and in large numbers. By some writers “anthem” is derived from ανατιθημι, to set up (as an offering), and by some from ανθημα, a flower, the anthem being considered the flower of the service. It is regrettable to find that the idea of attending service for the sake of the anthem alone is not yet extinct.
The anthem is thoroughly English; it supplied the attraction to our Reformed Church, which the church cantatas and passion music did for the Lutheran Church. Nearly all our eminent musicians have written numbers of them, many examples containing the finest of English composition. From early in the sixteenth century the anthem was permitted as a part of Divine service, but it is not until the revision of the Prayer Book in 1662 that we find the rubric, “In choirs and places where they sing, here followeth the anthem,” which retains its place to this day.
The first writers of note were Dr. Christopher Tye, who appears as a verse-writer also, having translated the Acts of the Apostles “into Englyshe meter”; Thomas Tallis, to whom our Church owes so much; and William Byrd, joint organist with Tallis of the Chapels Royal. By this period, that is, near the end of the sixteenth century, Church music was beginning to free itself from the fetters of vague tonality and old modes, and was gradually being clothed in clear and expressive harmonies, and this improvement becomes most marked in the works of our “English Palestrina,” as Orlando Gibbons has been appropriately named. He was born in Queen Elizabeth’s reign, but most of his grand Church compositions date from the commencement of the next century and the reign of James I. Though some of his anthems are “verse” and have solos in them, we may well classify this early period as that of the “full anthem.” Viols were used as accompaniments to the verse parts, and the organ was only added for the full choruses. I must remind you that the organ was a very different affair to our modern instrument. It had one advantage in its smallness, viz., that it could be carried about, being known as the portative organ, as opposed to the fixed or positive, and could therefore be placed close to wherever the singers were, to support their voices.
Passing to the latter half of the seventeenth century, we have come through the strongest period of the history of English music. The great madrigal school has flourished for nearly a century, and now we find Pelham Humphrey or Humfrey, born 1647, studying in Paris under Lulli, and under his influence helping to create a new era in anthem composition. He died very young. Then there was Michael Wise, and Dr. John Blow, private musician to King James II.; Dr. William Croft, his pupil, whose anthems are so grand and solemn, and to whom, we may mention in passing, we owe the introduction of music engraving on pewter plates. We must also name Jeremiah Clarke, another pupil of Blow’s, and Weldon. Anthems by all these men are still sung in our churches.
Towering above them all stands Henry Purcell, whose earnest, devotional Church music puts to shame much of the frivolous composition which is nowadays devoted to that high purpose. In this age which follows the period of the early “full anthem” writers, we have the “solo” and “verse” anthem brought to the front. Purcell’s knowledge of the singer’s requirements and his gift of beautiful melody enabled him to perfect the solo anthem.
Instrumental accompaniments became more important at the hands of these composers, and at the end of the seventeenth century the organ was becoming a more perfect instrument, through the workmanship of Father Schmidt and Renatus Harris, and others.
The anthems written by Handel, such as the Chandos Anthems, were scored for larger orchestras, and were more like a combination of the German church cantata and motett than the anthem strictly so called. But this increase in the size of the church orchestra led to a full band in Attwood’s Anthem for the Coronation of George IV., who, as Prince of Wales, had been his warm-hearted patron.
In the latter half of the eighteenth century we have a few good anthem-writers, such as Dr. Greene, who wrote over forty anthems; Dr. Boyce, his articled pupil, whose “Cathedral Music” is a most valuable collection of church compositions. There were also Jonathan Battishill, Dr. William Hayes, his son Dr. Philip Hayes, the two Walmisleys, and Attwood. Dr. T. F. Walmisley only died in 1866, and therefore some of these compositions almost belong to our own times.
This fragmentary sketch brings us to the present form of anthem; but before we speak of this we must mention in passing the masterly double psalms and anthems by Mendelssohn, several of them being composed to English words.
The country that owns such anthem-writers as Dr. S. S. Wesley, Sir John Goss, Sir G. Elvey, Dr. Hopkins, Dr. Stainer, and Rev. Sir F. Gore Ouseley has just reason to be proud. Many other names could be added to this list, and the outlook seems to be most hopeful.
We are bound to notice an excrescence, going by the name of anthem, which has been largely introduced into our cathedral services. We allude to those arrangements of portions of masses, etc., coupled to words totally different in sentiment to those for which the music was originally composed, and which are strung together, like so many beads on a string, as Dr. Monk aptly says (in Sir George Grove’s Dictionary), “for the sake of pretty phrases or showy passages.”
Such adaptations would almost point to a scarceness of the genuine anthem; and yet how opposite to this is the fact, and how few of the really fine anthems of the best period of our great English school receive the amount of hearing to which they are justly entitled! To verify this, you have but to peruse Novello’s Catalogue of Sacred Music with English words.