Gregorian Rhythm Wars contains all previous installments of our series.
Please refer to our Chant Glossary for definitions of unfamiliar terms.
EFF OSTROWSKI HAS ASKED ME WHAT EVIDENCE THERE IS that the stroke known as an episema denotes a longer note. Thousands of examples of the correspondence of t in one manuscript with the episema or non-cursive writing in other manuscripts could be presented. I’ll illustrate only one, from the introit Si iniquitates, with which we began this series. Here are the eight oldest more or less complete rhythmic manuscripts:
All are extant except Ch, which was destroyed in World War II. I have interpreted the Rankin and Graduale Synopticum designations of “early,” “late,” and “middle” of the century broadly, as fifty-year periods. B’s clivis with t corresponds to either the non-cursive clivis or the clivis with episema in all but one of the other manuscripts. If G’s undifferentiated clivis without episema should be sung as two short notes and preferred to the other seven sources, one may reasonably demand an explanation for the interpretation. Is G more excellent than L, Ch, E, and B? If so, why were the editors of the various duplex and triplex editions unaware of its surpassing greatness? In fact, those editors knew, just as we do, that G was several generations removed from the oldest sources.
Slow Down or Hold? • Why does it matter whether the letter t corresponds to an episema or non-cursive writing? In his opening post of this series, Jeff wrote that the letter t “means ‘tarditas’ or ‘trahere’ or ‘tenere’ or ‘tene’—basically a ritardando,” but is that true? A ritardando is a gradual slowing down, but the basic meaning of t is to hold rather than to slow down gradually. In modern notation, we have a tenuto mark, which, in fact, looks exactly like a horizontal episema. One doesn’t have to be an etymologist to note the similarity between the words tenuto and tene/tenere. We have a cognate in the English words retention and tenable, among others. For the other Latin words, tarditas and trahere, we have tardy and a plethora of words incorporating some form of tract. You already know that the English words retarded, protract, and retain mean “delayed,” “prolong,” “hold on to.” The Latin words tarditas, trahere and tene(re) respectively signify “delay” or “slowness,” “to draw out” or “to drag,” and “(to) hold”—in other words, lengthen. Despite similarities between tarditas, ritardando, and retard, the meaning of tarditas seems to be an immediate delay (i.e., a held note) rather than a gradual deceleration. There are many instances of t or an episema affecting a single note, which may also be graphically separated from the rest of the neume. It is impossible to slow down a single note gradually; it can only be held. So, the episema likewise signifies a lengthening of the note or notes thus marked, just as non-cursive writing also signifies long notes. I know of no other plausible explanation for the correspondence of these markings.
Rhythmic Proportions, Not Unimportant Nuances • The Solesmes masters claim that the meaning of the horizontal episema is “a slight broadening of the note or group which is affected by it” and that it is “an expressive sign rather than a quantitative one” (Carroll) or “only an expression mark,” which “does not therefore affect the rhythmical structure of a passage” and which “leaves the rhythmical quality of the note which it marks unchanged” (Gajard). While that may be true for the horizontal episema in their editions, it was a quantitative mark in the adiastematic manuscripts; otherwise, we would have some shred of evidence from the first millennium in support of expressive nuances of “slight broadening.” I maintain that the short and long notes of the first-millennial manuscripts as a rule stand in the same 1:2 proportion as eighth and quarter notes in modern notation. Jeff, you claimed that “many of the so-called ‘rhythmic’ indications were probably nuances. Therefore, when scribes ignore, jumble, or modify them, it’s no big deal.” I call upon you to defend your position of unimportant nuances as articulately as possible, with evidence from before the year 1100. (This date of 1100 is arbitrary and generous.)
Reader, Beware! • Don’t be duped by “evidence” from late manuscripts or theorists! Aribo wrote in the late eleventh century that the idea of composing and singing proportionally had “already been dead for a long time, even buried” (“jam dudum obiit, immo sepulta est”). If a manuscript is less than a thousand years old, don’t count on it to transmit the authentic rhythm faithfully. If it’s less than 900 years old, you can be reasonably sure that the rhythm is extensively corrupted and that it won’t aid your understanding of the oldest sources. Always check the date. To recap a few of my thus far unanswered questions:
- For the second time: What does an analysis and comparison of the 1791 and 1854 versions of Old Hundredth (Geneva 134) reveal about the 1565 version? Would you (or anyone else) be able to reconstruct the 1565 version from a performance of the 1791 or 1854 version?
- For the third time: Is it “miraculous” that Old Hundredth (Geneva 134) is sung with the same melody today as in 1551?
- For the fourth time: Do you believe that there was a conspiracy among printers to suppress the authentic rhythm of the chorale melodies, or that the Protestant congregations suddenly forgot the original rhythm?
- And the million-dollar question: Where does any theorist before the year 1100 write of rhythmic nuances for the episema or ordinary long note (tractulus, uncinus, or virga) that are somewhere between single and double in duration?
Nice Try! • In his latest post in the Gregorian Rhythm Wars series, Jeff again refers to his clivis comparison chart. Now let him show us how the long and short forms of the clivis differ from one another in Montpellier H. 159, Mont Renaud, Saint-Yrieix, or Noyon (Egerton 857)—not only in the introit Exaudi, but anywhere. At least with regard to the clivis, all four of those must be regarded as non-rhythmic manuscripts. Of his ten selected manuscript sources, Jeff dates only four of them to the first millennium, approximately, and two of those four are non-rhythmic, writing only an undifferentiated form of the clivis in every instance. That leaves but two sources from the chart upon which any compelling argument may be based, B and Ch:
Perhaps Jeff would like to explain why he chose to omit the two sources included in the triplex editions, L and E, which agree with B about the long value of the three clives and also with G, whose lesser authority I’ve discussed above. Let him also explain why we ought to prefer Ch’s short reading of the last of the three clives* to the unanimous and unambiguous testimony of the other three first-millennial rhythmic sources. So far, I find his claims totally unconvincing. How about you? Isn’t it peculiar that my opponent seems so uninterested in Laon 239, St. Gall 359, and Einsiedeln 121 and doesn’t encourage anyone to study them or give any kind of preference to them over the other thousands of chant manuscripts? Maybe that’s because they don’t support his (mis)interpretation. Open your eyes and don’t be fooled by someone who keeps pulling the wool over them. The oldest rhythmic sources are reliable. If you’re interested in recovering the authentic traditional rhythm, there you will find what you seek. Study them for yourself and don’t take my word for anything!
*The short interpretation of Ch’s last clivis at clamavi is questionable. Compare the other instances of that figure in the image above to the neumes of L and E in the Graduale Novum below and you will see that it may be likelier to indicate two longs than two shorts.
