Definite ideas of harmony were beginning to take root about this time. Ramis de Pareja, the Spanish theoretician, in 1482 had, by his new mathematical definitions of the ratio of intervals, established the consonant nature of the triad; Franchino Gafori and Ludovico Fogliano (d. 1539) had insisted upon the same principle. In 1558 Gioseffo Zarlino[107] gave to the world his Institutioni harmoniche, which, following the Ptolomean determination of intervals, established the natural relations of the tones of the major triad (divisione armonica) and in the course of the century his ideas of harmony became the common property of musicians. With harmony as the predominating principle of music, with ‘vertical’ hearing rather than ‘horizontal’ as the prevailing habit, and the constantly freer use of chromatics, the doom of ecclesiastical modes was sounded, even if not fully accomplished till later, and the real advent of modern music had been reached.

The Italians, from early times as to-day primarily and essentially melodists, never found great appeal in the barbarous descant and counterpoint of the Netherlanders. ‘But they could not but perceive the charm of harmony, once it had been cleansed of its dross, when composers no longer worked for the eye of their expert colleagues alone, but for the ears of the people as well.’ Hence polyphonic music was gradually accepted in the place of the native monodies which had now lost caste, and it became fashionable to perform motets for the entertainment of one’s guests. However, the number of native singers able to perform this ‘learned’ music was insufficient to supply even the churches outside of Rome, much less the palaces of the aristocracy, until the increased influx of Netherlanders as singers and teachers spread their art among the musicians of Italy. During the sixteenth century the simplification of notation made the art of reading music accessible to the dilettanti, who now formed musical coteries for the performance of polyphonic songs. Native composers busied themselves to supply the demand and their products were spread broadcast by enterprising publishers, for meantime, in 1476, the art of printing had been introduced in Rome.[108] The first of these publishers was Ottaviano dei Petrucci, who, though not its inventor, so advanced the art of music printing as to render it a practical medium. His office in Venice produced in 1501 a collection of ninety-six songs written by various composers. Thus he brought polyphonic music to the people and so caused the old monodies of the lutenists and earlier masters to pass still farther into oblivion.

Among the native products of Petrucci’s press we see a number of four-part songs of lighter genre called frottole. This was a simple popular form akin to the ballata and usually supposed to be of humorous content. The frottola was essentially a street song, originally sung to an improvised accompaniment, and did not really belong to the a capella species. But in Petrucci’s collection (between 1504 and 1509 he published nine books of frottole) they appear as polyphonic pieces in a manner of the time.[109] In this guise they were stepping stones to a nobler form which was to achieve immense popularity and, practised by the more educated circles of amateurs, became the ‘chamber music’ of the period. This was the madrigal or, to be precise, the new madrigal, for though the old verses of Dante, Petrarch, etc., served as bases, its musical structure had little to do with the earlier form (see above, p. 264).

This, in fact, was the only excuse for adopting the name madrigal for this new type of composition. Composers were weary of the short forms with their endless repetition of phrases and, recognizing the superiority of the old classic poems both in sentiment and structure, proceeded to apply to them their polyphonic skill. Like in the motet the setting was continuous (durchkomponiert), with or without reiteration of musical ideas, but, unlike that stereotyped form, the madrigal was the child of free invention throughout, not a contrapuntal exercise upon a given cantus firmus. The tenor was not more prominent than the other voices; neither, on the other hand, was the treble a real ‘melody’ in the modern sense, being the result of simultaneous calculation. The madrigal was the a capella composition par excellence and, as the secular counterpart of the motet, became the standard form in which the pure vocal style was developed.

III

Adrian Willaert (1480-1562), the founder of the so-called Venetian school, whose activities as a church composer we shall recount in the next chapter, is generally considered the father of the new madrigal. Though others went before him, it was he who endowed it with the freshness and vitality which made its extraordinary vogue possible. Master Adrian, says Ambros, ‘found in the smaller frottole of a Marco Caro and others many noble, serious expressions of sentiment. This colorit, this peculiar tone, he retained, together with the manner of treating Italian verse; but in place of the timid, poor and often clumsy technique of the Italians he applied to them the entire Netherland mastery of accomplished counterpoint—and the madrigal was ready.... The madrigal was to express only the pure and the profound. The cor gentile was the center of this poetry and music—the heart moved by noble love, with its joys and pains, its love, hope, longing, suffering and anger. The ‘tone’ of the madrigal is ever one of tender emotion, never of vehement passion.... It should never burst out in unbeautiful, violent expressions.’ Analyzing one of his madrigals, Riemann say that ‘on the whole there is so much originality, so much individual endeavor, that the lack of flowering fancy and warm blood is willingly overlooked. We feel as one does in the case of moderns, for instance Berlioz, that we are in the presence of a distinguished personality.... Willaert is great by virtue of the various impulses that he gave, as teacher, as eminent artist, but not really because of his compositions. If we compare him to the passionate Verdelot, the daring Arcadelt, the solemn Festa, the supple Gero, or the genial Rore, commanding all the nuances of expression, any one of these will be found more telling, but ... in all of the works of these, his pupils, we find the traces of his genius.’ Riemann has here named the greatest of the madrigalists, some of whom we must now consider further. They were all not only learned contrapuntists, but consummate masters of style, as is shown by the restraint with which they applied their skill, and they have left us works ‘which for purity of style and graceful flow of melody can scarcely be exceeded.’

Philippe Verdelot’s madrigals appeared even before those of Willaert (1538), but few have been preserved with all parts complete. He probably lived in Italy during 1525-1565 (Florence and Venice). His second book of five-part madrigals appeared in 1536 and in the same year Willaert published lute arrangements of Verdelot’s madrigals. Besides nine books of madrigals (four to six parts) he left motets for up to eight parts and a large mass, Philomena.

But the success of his madrigals was even surpassed by those of Jacques Arcadelt. A native of the Netherlands (b. 1514), the latter died in Paris after 1557. He appears as singer at the court of Florence from 1540 to 1549, when he became one of the papal singers of the Sistine Chapel in Rome and singing master to the boys at St. Peter’s. Besides compositions which appeared in miscellaneous collections, he published independently five books of four-part madrigals (1537-1544), another for three parts, all of which went rapidly through many editions, besides three masses and a book of motets. One of his madrigals, Il bianco et dolce cigno, a notable example of the style, is reprinted by Burney.[110] The well-known Ave Maria, which has been edited by Sir Henry Bishop and transcribed by Liszt, is now thought to be of doubtful authorship.

Constanzo Festa, of Rome (where he was papal chapel singer from 1517 till his death in 1545), the first Italian representative of the imitative vocal style in church composition, is with Willaert and Verdelot the originator of the new madrigal; his Amor che mi consigli, published in 1531, even points to him as the first in the field. His works are distinguished by rhythm, grace, elegance, simplicity and purity of harmony. Burney further assures us that ‘the subjects of imitation in it are as modern, and that the parts sing as well as if they were a production of the eighteenth century.’ His madrigal Quando ritrovo la mia pastorella (‘Down in a Flow’ry Vale’) was for a long time the most popular piece of its kind in England. He was less happy in his motets, in which he followed the absurd custom of setting the voice to different texts. A celebrated Te Deum by him is still sung by the pontifical choir upon the election of a new pope. Festa attained the dignity of maestro at the Vatican, being at that time the only Italian to hold such a position.

The most distinguished pupil of Willaert was Cipriano di Rore (b. ca. 1516 at Mechlin or Antwerp). After leaving Willaert’s tutelage in Venice he went to the court of Hercules II at Ferrara in 1542, where, in the same year, his first book of madrigals was brought out. After sundry travels in his native country, he was made maestro di capella to Duke Ottavio Farnese at Parma, returning to Venice as Willaert’s successor upon the latter’s death. He enjoyed great distinction as a composer of originality—of his ecclesiastical works we shall speak in Chapter X. As a composer of madrigals and ricercari (see Chap. XI, p. 356) he followed in his master’s footsteps. Eight books of four to five-part madrigals, published from 1542 to 1565, of which the four-part ones were issued in score form in 1577 as an aid to the study of counterpoint, constitute the bulk of his secular works. It will be well to mention here that Monteverdi, a half century later, acclaimed ‘the divine Cipriano di Rore’ as the founder of the new art, because of his endeavors in establishing the supremacy of melody.[111]