turn. Tallis could not approach the great Italian Master in this. No one ever did. But, he managed to place some wonderful Chord, at every turn; and, so to place it, that the ear could not fail to be ravished by its beauty. It is worthy of notice, that those of his Compositions, in which this peculiarity is most strongly developed, are the best known, and the most highly prized. They are, indeed, preeminently beautiful. But, so are many others, of which the very names have long since been forgotten; while some, well known by name, are just as much forgotten, in reality, as the rest. Among these last is one—the famous Motet, 'Spem in alium non habui,' for 40 Voices—which has been very frequently mentioned, though rarely described with the accuracy desirable in a case of such exceptional interest. Hawkins's account of it is too vague to be of any technical value whatever. Burney, though sufficiently minute in his attention to details, seems to have strangely misunderstood his author, in one very important particular. He tells us that the Voices are not arranged in separate Choirs, but treated as a single mass. No statement can possibly be more incorrect than this. The 40 Voices are, beyond all controversy, disposed in eight distinct Five-Part Choirs, which sometimes answer each other antiphonally—one or more whole Choirs resting, for a considerable number of bars together, while others continue the development of the various Subjects—and, sometimes, sing together, in vast 'Quadrigesimal Harmony,' no less real than that which Burney so well describes, but infinitely more complicated, being compounded of eight quintuple masses, each, as a general rule, complete in itself, though cases will be found in which the Bass of one Choir is needed to support the Harmonies sung by another—e.g. in the last Bar, where, without the lower G, sung by the Third, Fifth, and Eighth Choirs, the First and Sixth Choirs would present a forbidden Chord of the 6–4, while the Seventh Choir would end with a Chord of the Sixth.[1]
The leading Subject is proposed by the Altus of the First Choir, and answered in turn by the Cantus, the Tenor, the Quint us (in this case represented by a Duplicate Altus), and the Bass. The Second Choir enters, after three and a half bars rest, with the same Subject, answered in the same order. The Third Choir enters, one Voice at a time, in the middle of the eleventh bar; the Fourth, at the beginning of the sixteenth bar; the Fifth, at the twenty-third bar; the Sixth, in the middle of the twenty-fourth bar; the Seventh, at the beginning of the twenty-eighth bar; and the Eighth, at the beginning of the thirty-third bar; no two Parts ever making their entry at the same moment. The whole body of Voices is now employed, for some considerable time, in 40 real Parts. A new Subject is then proposed, and treated in like manner. The final climax is formed by a long and highly elaborate passage of 'Quadrigesimal Harmony,' culminating in a Plagal Cadence of gigantic proportions, and concluding with an Organ Point, of moderate length, which we present to our readers, entire. It would be manifestly impossible to write in so many Parts, without taking an infinity of Licences forbidden in ordinary cases. Many long passages are necessarily formed upon the reiterated notes of a single Harmony; and many progressions are introduced, which, even in eight Parts, would be condemned as licentious. Still, the marvel is, that the Parts are all real. Whatever amount of indulgence may be claimed, no two Voices ever 'double' each other. Whether the effect produced be worth the labour expended upon it, or not, the Composition is, at any rate, exactly what it asserts itself to be—a genuine example of Forty-Part Counterpoint: and the few bars we have selected for our example will show this as clearly as a longer extract.[2] (See opposite page.)
As Tallis is chiefly known by his Litany and Responses, so is his great pupil, William Byrd, by 'Non nobis, Domine,' a 'Service,' and a few Anthems, translated from the Latin; while the greater number of his 'Cantiones Sacræ,' his Mass for 5 Voices, and his delightful Madrigals, are recognised only as antiquarian curiosities. The only known copies of his two Masses for 3 and 4 Voices seem, indeed, to be hopelessly lost; nothing having been heard of them, since they were 'knocked down' to Triphook, at the sale of Bartleman's Library, in 1822. But, a goodly number of his works may very easily be obtained, in print; while larger collections of his MS. productions are preserved in more than one of our Collegiate Libraries. We ought to know more of these fine Compositions, the grave dignity of which has never been surpassed. It is in this characteristic that their chief merit lies. They are less expressive, in one sense, than the more tender inspirations of Tallis; but, while they lose in pathos, they gain in majesty. If they sometimes seem lacking in grace, they never fail to impress us by the solidity of their structure, and the grandeur of their massive proportions. Fux makes Three-Part Counterpoint (Tricinium) the test of real power.[3] Was ever more effect produced by three Voices than in the following example, from the 'Songs of Sundrie Natures.' (Lond. 1589.)
- ↑ A similar licence is taken in Bar 13, and many other places.
- ↑ A complete Score will be found in the Library of the Sacred Harmonic Society. In a copy, purchased for the British Museum, in 1876, the Music allotted to each Choir is scored separately; and the volume concludes with a complete set of the separate Parts. In both these examples, the original Latin words are wanting, and the Music is adapted to some English doggrel verses of the time of King Charles I or II. An older, and once very famous copy, in the handwriting of John Immyns, seems to have hopelessly disappeared.
The Composition was performed, in London, many years ago, under the direction of the late William Hawes; and again, on May 15, 1879, under that of Mr. Henry Leslie.
- ↑ Gradus ad Parnassum, p. 81.
