organized long before the shape could be determined by any
but external or mechanical conceptions. The laws of musical
texture were known as the laws of “counterpoint” (see Counterpoint
and Harmony). The “contrapuntal” forms, then,
are historically the earliest and aesthetically the simplest in
music; the simplest, that is to say, in principle, but not necessarily
the easiest to appreciate or to execute. Their simplicity
is like that of mathematics, the simplicity of the elements
involved; but the intricacy of their details and the subtlety
of their expression may easily pass the limits of popularity,
while art of a much more complex nature may masquerade in
popular guise; just as mathematical science is seldom popularized,
while biology masquerades in infant schools as “natural
history.” Here, however, the resemblance between counterpoint
and mathematics ends, for the simplicity of genuine contrapuntal
style is a simplicity of emotion as well as of principle; and if
the style has a popular reputation of being severe and abstruse,
this is largely because the popular conception of emotion is
conventional and dependent upon an excessive amount of
external nervous stimulus.
1. Canonic Forms and Devices.
In the canonic forms, the earliest known in music as an independent art, the laws of texture also determine the shape of the whole, so that it is impossible, except in the light of historical knowledge, to say which is prior to the other. The principle of canon being that one voice shall reproduce the material of another note for note, it follows that in a composition where all parts are canonic and where the material of the leading part consists of a pre-determined melody, such as a Gregorian chant or a popular song there remains no room for further consideration of the shape of the work. Hence, quite apart from their expressive power and their value in teaching composers to attain harmonic fluency under difficulties, the canonic forms played the leading part in the music of the 15th and 16th centuries; nor indeed have they since fallen into neglect without grave injury to the art. But strict canon soon proved inadequate, and even dangerous, as the sole regulating principle in music; and its rival and cognate principle, the basing of polyphonic designs upon a given melody to which one part (generally the tenor) was confined, proved scarcely less so. Nor were these two principles, the canon and the canto fermo, likely, by combination in their strictest forms, to produce better artistic results than separately. Both were rigid and mechanical principles; and their development into real artistic devices was due, not to a mere increase in the facility of their use, but to the fact that, just as the researches of alchemists led to the foundations of chemistry, so did the early musical puzzles lead to the discovery of innumerable harmonic and melodic resources which have that variety and freedom of interaction which can be organized into true works of art and can give the ancient mechanical devices themselves a genuine artistic character attainable by no other means.
The earliest canonic form is the rondel or rota as practised in the 12th century. It is, however, canonic by accident rather than in its original intention. It consists of a combination of short melodies in several voices, each melody being sung by each voice in turn. Now it is obvious that if one voice began alone, instead of all together, and if when it went on to the second melody the second voice entered with the first, and so on, the result would be a canon in the unison. Thus the difference between the crude counterpoint of the rondel and a strict canon in the unison is a mere question of the point at which the composition begins, and a 12th century rondel is simply a canon at the unison begun at the point where all the voices have already entered. There is some reason to believe that one kind of rondeau practised by Adam de la Hale was intended to be sung in the true canonic manner of the modern round; and the wonderful English rota, “Sumer is icumen in,” shows in the upper four parts the true canonic method, and in its two-part pes the method in which the parts began together. In these archaic works the canonic form gives the whole a consistency and stability contrasting oddly with the dismal warfare between nascent harmonic principles and ancient anti-harmonic criteria which hopelessly wrecks them as regards euphony. As soon as harmony became established on a true artistic basis, the unaccompanied round took the position of a trivial but refined art-form, with hardly more expressive possibilities than the triolet in poetry, a form to which its brevity and lightness renders it fairly comparable. Orlando di Lasso’s Célébrons sans cesse is a beautiful example of the 16th century round, which was at that time little cultivated by serious musicians. In more modern times the possibilities of the round in its purest form have enormously increased; and with the aid of elaborate instrumental accompaniments it plays an important feature in such portions of classical operatic ensemble as can with dramatic propriety be devoted to expressions of feeling uninterrupted by dramatic action. In the modern round the first voice can execute a long and complete melody before the second voice joins in. Even if this melody be not instrumentally accompanied, it will imply a certain harmony, or at all events arouse curiosity as to what the harmony is to be. And the sequel may shed a new light upon the harmony, and thus by degrees the whole character of the melody may be transformed. The power of the modern round for humorous and subtle, or even profound, expression was first fully revealed by Mozart, whose astounding unaccompanied canons would be better known if he had not unfortunately set many of them to extemporized texts unfit for publication. The round or the catch (which is simply a specially jocose round) is a favourite English art-form, and the English specimens of it are probably more numerous and uniformly successful than those of any other nation. Still they cannot honestly be said to realize the full possibilities of the form. It is so easy to write a good piece of free and fairly contrapuntal harmony in three or more parts, and so arrange it that it remains correct when the parts are brought in one by one, that very few composers seem to have realized that any further artistic device was possible within such limits. Even Cherubini gives hardly more than a valuable hint that the round may be more than a jeu d’esprit; and, unless he be an adequate exception, the unaccompanied rounds of Mozart and Brahms stand alone as works that raise the round to the dignity of a serious art-form. With the addition of an orchestral accompaniment the round obviously becomes a larger thing; and when we consider such specimens as that in the finale of Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte, the quartet in the last act of Cherubim’s Faniska, the wonderfully subtle quartet “Mir ist so wunderbar” in Beethoven’s Fidelio, and the very beautiful numbers in Schubert’s masses where Schubert finds expression for his genuine contrapuntal feeling without incurring the risks resulting from his lack of training in fugue-form, we find that the length of the initial melody, the growing variety of the orchestral accompaniment and the finality and climax of the free coda, combine to give the whole a character closely analogous to that of a set of contrapuntal variations, such as the slow movement of Haydn’s “Emperor” string quartet, or the opening of the finale of Beethoven’s 9th Symphony. Berlioz is fond of beginning his largest movements like a kind of round; e.g. his Dies Irae, and Scène aux Champs.
A moment’s reflection will show that three conditions are necessary to make a canon into a round. First, the voices must imitate each other in the unison; secondly, they must enter at equal intervals of time; and thirdly, the whole melodic material must be as many times longer than the interval of time as the number of voices; otherwise, when the last voice has finished the first phrase, the first voice will not be ready to return to the beginning. Strict canon is, however, possible under innumerable other conditions, and even a round is possible with some of the voices at the interval of an octave, as is of course inevitable in writing for unequal voices. And in a round for unequal voices there is obviously a new means of effect in the fact that, as the melody rotates, its different parts change their pitch in relation to each other. The art by which this is possible without incorrectness is that of double, triple and multiple counterpoint (see Counterpoint). Its difficulty is
