*5.1. Wordless Music and Words*

In 1576, Dominican friar Juan de Palencia published a new edition of his order's *Ordinarium*, the book describing liturgical ceremonies [29]. Although he offers explanatory annotations on some of rubrics, he makes no claims for innovation in this work, but states that these are the opinions of the "older Fathers" ([30], p. 282). Juan mentions the regulations concerning the organ given by the various General Chapters and remarks that though the use of the organ in church is a new thing ("nova res"), it is now found in all churches. This is for two reasons: to give the choir some relief, and to add greater solemnity to worship19. However, as we have seen, by Juan's day, the organ was actually expected to do more than this: it was expected to sing words—and not just a few general ideas, but around half of the words that would otherwise be sung by the choir and the people. Early in the sixteenth century, the organ's role began to be seen almost exclusively in logocentric terms, standing or falling on the basis of its ability to convey text. Sixteenth-century churchmen reasoned that, if the people do not understand what is being sung (whether by the organ, or by voices in polyphony), then their devotion suffers. Once the paradigm of verbal intelligibility was established, it is no wonder that organ alternatim was viewed as inadequate (as also were vocal polyphony and melismatic chant). In addition, what of the Latin language? Surely that too was an obstacle to intelligibility and therefore to devotion? Cajetan had already aired these more radical possibilities in his 1528 commentary on Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians. Echoing Erasmus, he claims Paul's authority for the use of the vernacular in worship: where prayers are said publicly, in the hearing of the people, it would contribute more to the building up of the Church if they were said in the language common to all20. And when Paul says that he would rather speak five words "with his mind" (*i.e*., intelligibly) than ten thousand words in tongues, Cajetan uses the occasion to complain about those kinds of music where text is assigned to the organ, or is obscured by the music of many voices. On balance, he says that it would be better to have no music at all than to have an unintelligible cacophony21.

Aquinas had shown a little more latitude: he noted that when singers sing a sacred text with devotion, they are stirred to further devotion by the "hidden correspondences" between the music and the affections of their spirit. It is as if the text harnesses the potential in the music to arouse greater devotion within them. In addition, even though the people might not understand what the singers are singing, if they understand that it is sung with devotion, then their devotion is aroused

<sup>19</sup> "Sed iam in omnibus ecclesiis habentur ad levamen chori et maiorem solemnitatem divini officii" ([29], p. 128).

<sup>20</sup> On 1 Cor 14.17: "Ex hac Pauli doctrina habetur quod melius ad aedificationem ecclesiae est orationes publicas quae audiente populo dicuntur, dici lingua communi clericis et populo, quam dici latine" ([31], p. 137a). Wegman provides the original and an English translation of Erasmus's annotation on the same passage, which Cajetan knew ([2], pp. 161–65).

<sup>21</sup> On 1 Cor 14.19: "Unde discere debemus eligibilius esse ut in Ecclesia dicantur divina (horae scilicet canonicae et Missae) intelligibiliter sine melodia musica, quam sic ut non intelligi possint, qualiter sunt tam particulae quae sonis commituntur organorum, quam quas cantus reddit imperceptibiles, vel multitudine clamoris occupantis, vel qualitate cantus notas magis, quam verba concinentis. Haec enim omnia magis extranea sunt quam decem millia verborum in lingua" ([31], p. 137a–b).

in turn (II-II, 91, 2, ad 5; [20], p. 167). Aquinas certainly appreciates the importance of text in worship. However, he also recognizes the power of music itself to act on the spirit, in the context of worship, even where words are obscured.

#### *5.2. Wordless Music and Worldly Music*

As noted above, the sources I have been examining actually provide two conflicting answers to the question of meaning in solo organ music. On the one hand, Cajetan and the Dominican Chapters are clear that secular melodies inevitably carry with them the echo of their texts and/or earlier usage and so will subvert the devout participation of worshippers. For this reason, secular songs are excluded from worship by law, and by extension, so are secular melodies—in other words, when playing a secular melody or rhythm, the organ cannot help but sing the secular song. On the other hand, when sacred melodies are played on the organ, they cannot be relied on to convey their assigned liturgical texts effectively enough to ensure the devout participation of worshippers. For this reason, various tactics are proposed to remedy the inarticulateness of the organ, or replace it all together—in other words, the organ cannot sing the sacred song clearly enough. The expectations are both inconsistent and unequal: the churchmen wanted to exclude *every trace* of secular distraction from worship, however fleeting, but they wanted the *full content* of the sacred texts to be realized in the act of worship. From the secular melodies, they feared even a minimum of provocation to lascivious thoughts; from the sacred melodies they expected a maximum of meaning arousing devotion22.

As we saw above, the Dominicans' determined ban of secular music is not based on purely musical qualities, but on the associations a piece of music brings with it. Such an extrinsic point of view might have yielded a less absolute judgement on secular melody: since the essential properties of musical modes do not change very much over time, clear and abiding directives could be given concerning certain modes and certain rhythms. However, the extrinsic associations of a melody can and do change; if associations can be acquired, they can be lost too. The frottole of Bartolomeo Tromboncino, adapted for organ solo and published in 1517, may have scandalized or titillated churchgoers in the 1520s (had they been played in church), but by the 1820s few people would be able to recall their texts, or even feel in their rhythms the traces of carnal desire. For this reason, one might imagine the Dominicans adjusting their judgment from an absolute ban to a conditional ban, depending on the likelihood of the associations enduring. However, this is not forthcoming: instrumental music remains a weak point, a back door, which must always be guarded lest the world and the flesh find an easy way in. Such a view would struggle to accommodate evidence that venerable elements of the sacred rites had in fact made their way into worship from "outside"—such as the phrase "Kyrie eleison," ("Lord have mercy") which "is not originally a

<sup>22</sup> This is not the only issue on which these reformers were inconsistent: the sources examined in this article do not question the practice of reciting parts of the Mass silently, particularly the central Eucharistic Prayer, or Canon of the Mass. For centuries it had been the custom for this prayer to be said out of the hearing of the people, and this custom is reaffirmed by General Chapter (Salamanca, 1551, [23], p. 321, and Rome 1569, despite practice to the contrary, [25], p. 90), as well as by the Council of Trent (Decree on the Sacrifice of the Mass, 1562). This is another sign that these reformers were not solely concerned with verbal audibility and intelligibility.

Christian prayer at all but rather an acclamation employed in pagan worship, adopted in the cult of the Roman emperor" ([32], p. 335).
