[552] We were delighted with the hymns, we sung them with all our heart, and gradually, by the sweetness or the energy of the singing, the thoughts and the maxims, and the most noble sentiments of the faith, were grafted in our souls. To say the truth, it was the life of the Catechism. Without the hymns, in spite of the zeal and the skill of our Catechists, it would all have been very cold. When, at the signal given by M. Lacombe, we all began to sing, it was like a revival of zeal and energy throughout the Catechism. After a very serious Instruction, which had kept us closely attentive for half an hour, and bent down, pencil in hand, over our note-books, we sometimes felt wearied and our thoughts began to wander; but all at once some beautiful hymn was given out, which cheered us up and at the same time made us attentive again, which often touched us, and always interested and rested us. Certainly, for me, it was the hymns more than anything which converted me and bound me for ever to religion.
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Source: Félix Dupanloup, The Ministry of Catechising, trans. by E. A. Ellacombe (London: Griffith Farran Okeden & Welsh, 1890), 552.
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In a book called The Ministry of Catechising, which originally appeared in French in 1868 (an English translation appeared in 1890 in London), Bishop Felix Dupanloup recalled memories of his First Communion:
We were delighted with the hymns. We sung them with all our heart, and gradually, by the sweetness or the energy of the singing, the thoughts and maxims of the faith were grafted in our souls. To say the truth, it was the life of the Catechism. Without the hymns, it would all have been very cold. For me, it was the hymns more than anything which converted me and bound me forever to religion.
While we know that the Mass itself is not the optimal place for hymns, which belong more correctly in the Divine Office (with the exception of the Gloria and, if one considers it a hymn, the Sanctus), nevertheless there is an important truth to which Dupanloup bears witness: the value of singing together beautiful vernacular religious songs that have the power to shape the senses, imagination, and memory, and through them, to shape the heart and mind.
We are so blessed with a rich repertoire of famous Advent, Christmas, and Epiphany carols, hymns, and songs, and we should use them abundantly in our homes, in youth groups, in prayer meetings or Adoration, when caroling in the neighborhood, visiting a nursing home or prison, or any other appropriate setting. Let us not surrender the world of sound to secular content, but fill it with joyful singing! It is, in more ways than one, a corporal and spiritual work of mercy.
Children, especially, deserve to have glowing memories of carols, just as Dupanloup recounts. This is a preaching of the Gospel “before the age of reason,” a preaching to all the powers of the soul, not just to the intellect, which has been excessively emphasized in recent decades. Catechesis begins with the senses and the imagination.
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Source: Peter Kwasniewski, "Happy 200th Birthday, 'Silent Night' — and Why Singing Carols is So Important," New Liturgical Movement (Dec. 24, 2018), http://www.newliturgicalmovement.org/2018/12/happy-200th-birthday-silent-night-and.html.
Tuesday, December 3, 2019
The Power of Hymns to Move (1890)
[66] But it is not only parents who are influenced by the Catechism, gentlemen; I have seen men of the world, worldly women, high and great personages, laid hold of, conquered, overcome by the sight of a Catechism, by these holy hymns, by the voices, by the souls of these little children.
[67] You will tell me, perhaps, this is difficult to understand, for that after all these hymns are very indifferent poetry. Not always, gentlemen; among these hymns there are some that Racine would not have been ashamed of, there are even some of his; but whatever they were, they were sung with such an enthusiasm, with such expression, with that deep and powerful expression which only the pure feeling for heavenly things gives to the soul;[1] and I have seen the irreligious subdued, conquered by the irresistible power of these holy songs. And observe, too, gentlemen, I am speaking of times which were not favourable [sic] to religion; it was the time when the Archbishop's palace was pillaged, when crosses were thrown down, when Priests were publicly insulted in the streets of Paris.
I can see now one of these men, who had had the curiosity and the patience to remain throughout the whole two hours of the Catechism, and who at the end said to me with a tone of great emotion, "It is really wonderful that you can thus keep together all this little audience; it is a strange secret—to be able to keep four hundred children, for two hours, quiet, motionless, and happy."
He understood nothing about it, and I saw that he did not.
I replied to him, "Ah, sir, it is true; you have seen it, these two hours have passed like one minute; but believe me, it is God Who has done it; if He were not with us in this Chapel, we should not succeed in this; and it seems to me that you yourself have been interested."—" Yes," he said, "it has singularly touched me, and I shall come to it again, if you will allow me."
I remember also a Priest, a great preacher, but a stranger to the work of the Catechisms; he had come there to see what was going on. When it was over, he could not contain the emotion he had felt, and he said to me, "I thought I saw the sanctifying Spirit Himself hovering under the vaults of this [68] Chapel, over these dear children." I did not refuse this praise—it was true. It was on the Monday evening of the Retreat for the first Communion; they had sung the hymn "Hélas, quelle douleur!" It was this hymn specially which had so thrilled the heart of this Priest, and I had been as much moved by it as himself.
But enough. In our next discourse we will go yet more into the bottom of all these things.
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Footnotes:
1. I have no hesitation in saying that through this, a harmony, a musical perfection is attained, which I have never met with elsewhere.
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Source: Félix Dupanloup, The Ministry of Catechising, trans. by E. A. Ellacombe (London: Griffith Farran Okeden & Welsh, 1890), 66–68.
[67] You will tell me, perhaps, this is difficult to understand, for that after all these hymns are very indifferent poetry. Not always, gentlemen; among these hymns there are some that Racine would not have been ashamed of, there are even some of his; but whatever they were, they were sung with such an enthusiasm, with such expression, with that deep and powerful expression which only the pure feeling for heavenly things gives to the soul;[1] and I have seen the irreligious subdued, conquered by the irresistible power of these holy songs. And observe, too, gentlemen, I am speaking of times which were not favourable [sic] to religion; it was the time when the Archbishop's palace was pillaged, when crosses were thrown down, when Priests were publicly insulted in the streets of Paris.
I can see now one of these men, who had had the curiosity and the patience to remain throughout the whole two hours of the Catechism, and who at the end said to me with a tone of great emotion, "It is really wonderful that you can thus keep together all this little audience; it is a strange secret—to be able to keep four hundred children, for two hours, quiet, motionless, and happy."
He understood nothing about it, and I saw that he did not.
I replied to him, "Ah, sir, it is true; you have seen it, these two hours have passed like one minute; but believe me, it is God Who has done it; if He were not with us in this Chapel, we should not succeed in this; and it seems to me that you yourself have been interested."—" Yes," he said, "it has singularly touched me, and I shall come to it again, if you will allow me."
I remember also a Priest, a great preacher, but a stranger to the work of the Catechisms; he had come there to see what was going on. When it was over, he could not contain the emotion he had felt, and he said to me, "I thought I saw the sanctifying Spirit Himself hovering under the vaults of this [68] Chapel, over these dear children." I did not refuse this praise—it was true. It was on the Monday evening of the Retreat for the first Communion; they had sung the hymn "Hélas, quelle douleur!" It was this hymn specially which had so thrilled the heart of this Priest, and I had been as much moved by it as himself.
But enough. In our next discourse we will go yet more into the bottom of all these things.
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Footnotes:
1. I have no hesitation in saying that through this, a harmony, a musical perfection is attained, which I have never met with elsewhere.
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Source: Félix Dupanloup, The Ministry of Catechising, trans. by E. A. Ellacombe (London: Griffith Farran Okeden & Welsh, 1890), 66–68.
The Importance of Hymns in Catechism (1890)
[179] SIXTH DISCOURSE.
THE HYMNS (Cantiques).
One of the things which can best help to give an interest and to put life into Catechisms,—as it is in all Confraternity or other religious meetings,—is the singing of hymns.
The singing of hymns makes children love the Catechism, it rests them, it charms them though still edifying them, while refreshing them it leads them to God, it gives an impulse to everything, and sometimes produces the very deepest impression upon souls.
A hymn well sung often does more for the conversion of children, and even for the greatest sinners, than the most moving exhortations.
I have been always so convinced of this, that if it had been proposed to me to conduct a Catechism without singing hymns, it would have been proposing to me an impossibility; and one year, when I had only seven children to prepare for their first Communion, three boys and four girls, yet nevertheless I made them sing hymns, and they sang them with delight.
But here I must enter into some preliminary details; I must also trace back these things to their highest source.
I shall therefore treat in succession: (1st) on sacred singing in general; (2nd) on the particular advantages of singing hymns at the Catechisms; (3rd) on the Manual of hymns for the Catechism. And first of all, on Sacred Singing.
I.
Next to the Divine sacrifice and the Sacraments, two things are all-important in religion and in public worship: the Word of God and sacred music.
[180] The one supports, animates and strengthens the other. By the one, God causes His voice to be heard by the people; by the other, the people lift up their voice to God. And thus we may venture to say that the music of the Church is equal to the Word, and that it is also inspired by God. Who, indeed, has not felt the Divine inspiration in our admirable liturgical chants?
Yes, the singing the praises of God in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, this singing being led, strengthened and improved by the organ, which seems to belong to religion, is one of the most powerful means we possess for influencing souls, and lifting them up to Heaven. If we would save them, it is not enough to speak to them of God, we must make them speak to God, and how? By prayer, by adoration, by thanksgiving, and above all by that worship which consists in singing the praises of God; there, besides the expression of our needs, we have thanksgiving and adoration; there the most lukewarm become fervent, the most fervent are lifted up yet higher; sinners are moved, subdued, they sing out their remorse, the condemnation of their faults, the happiness of repenting of them.
If you do nothing but preach, whether more or less well; if you do not let them sing, their souls will sink into weariness, and soon they will not know what to do or to say in relation to God.
You know how S. Augustine relates his experience: "What emotion I felt, how many tears did I shed when listening to the melodious concert of hymns and sacred songs which echoed in Thy Church! While my ear yielded to the charm of these Divine harmonies, my heart was sweetly flooded with the pure waves of Thy truth, with impetuous ardour [sic] it broke out in holy impulses; my tears flowed in torrents, and it was happiness to me to shed them."
This, gentlemen, is one of the secrets of nature, or to speak more rightly, of Providence. Singing is one of the noblest and strongest ways of expressing the feelings of the soul. As S. Augustine again has said, "Cantat amor!" Singing is love; thus everything sings in nature, everything sings in [181] heaven. It is the enthusiasm of the heart. When any kind of feeling within us reaches a certain degree of depth and strength, it naturally gives itself out in song, and then all at once it acquires a wonderful power of communicating itself to others. It moves souls. Whence comes it! What is the secret of this mysterious relation between musical things, cadence, rhythm, harmony, melody, and the deepest powers of our being? I know not. But it is a fact; this is why everything in the soul sings; why all that is noble, ardent, generous, passionate breaks out into song. And sacred song also, and more than all, is enthusiasm; but it is the enthusiasm of all the greatest, the purest, the best feelings of man's heart. Thus, in a Christian congregation, it affects all, it animates, it lifts up, it charms; it excites the weak, the strong, the lukewarm, the fervent, the good, and even the wicked; who has not at some time seen it? Who, for instance, has been able to listen without emotion to the united voices of the crowds under the vaulted roofs of our churches, or to a chant sweetly echoing from the deep and inaccessible retreats of a monastery? But if the singing of the Church is to produce such an effect, it must be really religious singing, as perfect as possible; and above all, it must be popular, that is to say, sung by all the faithful.
I have said to you often, gentlemen, and not without reason, that when the time comes that you have taught your parishioners to sing the Psalms and hymns, then your parishes will be won. From that time, they will love their Church and their Pastor. People who have sung joyfully and with all their heart, love what they have sung, they love the place where they have sung, the pleasant recollection attaches them to it; also they love those with whom they have sung. Would you then have them love God and virtue, and the Church, let them in the church sing the praises of God and virtue.
You have difficulty in bringing them to pray; begin by giving them a taste for hymns; make them sing; for to sing is to pray, it is to pray fervently, sometimes even with transport.
[182] This is true above all with children. The singing of the hymns in well-conducted Catechisms, as also at any time, the singing of Psalms, may sometimes become, on the lips and in the heart of these dear children, the most fervent prayer.
Not only is to sing to pray; but you need only think for a moment, and you will see that even in the singing of hymns there is included the two great means of religious influence of which we spoke a few days ago, Instruction and Exhortation.
For my own part, I believe without any doubt that the singing of hymns during the Catechism is one of the most powerful means for at the same time instructing the children soundly, touching their heart, lifting up their soul, and converting them. And what I say now of the Catechisms and the children, you know that I would say the same for the parochial services provided for all the faithful.
And, in fact, all the truths of the faith, all the great moral precepts, all the most urgent motives for flying from evil and practising [sic] goodness, are to be found on every page in a collection of hymns and sacred songs. And what is also most valuable is, as S. Paul says, that in sacred singing, every one instructs and exhorts himself, without need of any other preacher: "Docentes et commonentes cosmetipsos psalmis, hymnis et canticis spiritualibus" (Col. iii. 16). Now is it not a matter of experience that the mind accepts more readily what in this way it says to itself, and that the heart is more strongly though gently impressed? Above all, if the words are helped, as in this case, by that powerful influence which music exerts over the senses, the imagination, and the feelings; that sort of influence which we call a charm.
Hymns, then, both instruct and exhort, but they have further this very great advantage, that they oblige the children at the same time to make all sorts of religious acts, acts of faith, of hope, of love, of contrition, of good resolve, &c. All these acts, in fact, are to be found in the hymns.
It will be said perhaps by several, that these acts are only on their lips. No, gentlemen, such acts cannot be only on their lips, they cannot be frequently brought into remembrance by sacred singing, without the heart gradually [183] becoming familiar with them, taking pleasure in them, and at last thoroughly entering into the feelings they express.
Besides, in the Catechism, one is not confined to having the hymns sung; they are explained; they are developed; the beauty of them is shown to the children; they are made to feel their force and unction; and there is no kind of discourse to which they are more alive.
I have had a thousand experiences of this, all more astonishing and delightful one than another. It was by the singing of the hymns that I could do something even with the most hopeless children. If a child with whom we had been able to do nothing, up to the very end of the week-day Catechism, all at once began to sing the hymns, we said: He is saved. And in fact, every day we saw the most delightful changes being worked in him. He became thoughtful, attentive, pious, very soon even penetrated with compunction, and by the end of the Catechism and the Retreat, he showed some times a fervour [sic] which was most touching.
And even when we were uneasy about an entire Catechism of first Communion, when the great work of converting all these young souls was not being accomplished according to our desires, we redoubled our zeal, not only in instructing and exhorting them, but also in making them sing the hymns well. We all sang with them.[1] The parents who were present at the Catechism often sang with us; we never allowed a single child to be there without his Manual in his hand, and without singing with all his heart; and not a week, not a fort night passed that we did not discover in them those signs of progress which made us happy again.
Thus I have always believed, gentlemen, and what I see every day in this diocese confirms me in the belief, that every Curé who knows how to organize perfectly—not only in his [184] Catechisms, but throughout his parish—the sacred music, to be sung not only by the choir but by all the people, will not have to wait long before he sees faith and piety flourishing again, together with a love for the Church and her holy offices. Several of you have already gained this result in the Catechisms of Perseverance and in confraternities, and it is most desirable that you should have the same success in the general congregations of the parish, by letting the faithful sing, whether at High Mass or at Vespers.
But if you desire that this sacred music should become altogether popular in your parishes, the way is to teach it to the children in the Catechisms. Yes, teach them to chant, in Latin, the Kyrie, the Gloria, the Credo, the Psalms for Sunday, these which have been consecrated by the usage of the Church, and which are so easy to understand, and some well-known hymns.
The most beautiful sacred hymns have been inspired by the real Presence of our Lord in the Eucharist: the Ave Verum, O Salutaris, Tantum ergo, Adoro Te, supplex, Lauda Sion; if possible, let your children learn these by heart; let them learn also the Litanies of the Blessed Virgin, the Inviolata, and even our admirable Stabat; and besides all these, some of the hymns in the vernacular from the Manual: thenceforth, the spirit of grace and of prayer will not be slow to descend upon them, and through them on all your parishioners. The parish in Paris, where the congregational singing is best, is Saint-Sulpice, for it is the parish where for so long a time sacred singing has flourished in the Catechisms.
Besides, nothing is more easy than to teach the children to sing all this. I see, in the greater number of parishes, if the Curé only throws a little zeal into it, that not only the children, but the whole congregation, sing gladly and very well, if the choir and the ophicleides [i.e. a brass instrument] allow them.
[185] II.
Singing hymns has, besides, gentlemen, other advantages, less exalted apparently, but yet greatly valued by those holy and famous Catechists whose example I have set before you.
And first, if well arranged, and alternating with the other parts of the Catechism, the singing prevents weariness in the children, it refreshes them, it rests them after the more serious exercise which has just finished, and it prepares them for that which is about to follow. And with these young natures, nothing is more necessary, in a Catechism which ought to last two hours, and in which so many serious and important things have to be said.
We read in the Life of Saint François Xavier that he composed hymns for his Catechumens, and that he went so far as [186] to set to music the Lord's Prayer, the Angelic Salutation, and the Apostles' Creed. His historian relates that not only did he by this means banish all the bad songs which the new Christians had sung before their baptism, but that he also supplied this Christian community with a new means of edification. "For the hymns of the holy missionary so pleased men, women, and children, that they sang them day and night, both at home and out in the country." S. Charles Borromeo produced similar effects at Milan, by the hymns which he caused to be sung at his Catechisms. M. Alain de Solminihac, Bishop of Cahors, also put into verse the Ten Commandments and the Apostles' Creed, so that his people might be able to sing them.
Finally, and this last advantage is not unimportant, singing the hymns helps to keep up order and silence, and prevents the distraction of the children, at certain moments when it is almost inevitable. For instance, those who are accustomed to Catechisms know that when an exercise comes to an end, the children make a confused noise, such as one hears in churches after the first point of a sermon; they take their books, they hastily open their hymn-books, sometimes they will ask their neighbours [sic] a question, or even the Catechists; as if, wearied with the attention they have been giving, they are trying now to make up for it. The same sort of thing happens when they are going away after the Catechism; one form after another gets up all together, they defile [sic] into the aisles while other children are leaving their places to follow them, and others again to follow on. Well, if the precaution has been taken to make the children sing at that time, the sound of the music will cover the noise; they will not be aware of the noise which their movement must cause, and by this pious device you accustom them to feel that calmness and quiet are never absent from the Catechisms.
I borrow these practical observations, which are of real importance, from the excellent Méthode de S. Sulpice.
But, I ought to add, if the singing of hymns is to be really profitable, the Head Catechist, ought to give it his greatest attention, he ought frequently to remind the children that [187] their hymns are prayers, and he should explain them in such a manner that the children will understand the sense and enjoy the words. One very necessary point is that they should never be allowed to scream in singing, the youngest are certain to do it. It must be stopped at once. It should be immediately and very severely rebuked and warned against. Neither must there be any hurry in the singing, though at the same time it must not be allowed to drag—slowness is sometimes unbearable to children. It is easier, particularly for boys, to sing a little fast than too slowly.
The Head Catechist should be constantly occupied in making those sing who are not singing, in moderating the voices, in directing the whole; and for this purpose, his great duty is to arrange, prepare, and study the hymns well which he means to be sung at the Catechism, and to have the list, of which he gives a duplicate to the organist, quite ready. Without this precaution, the chances are that the same hymns will be always sung, perhaps two or three which do not suit either the circumstances,[2] or the festivals which are being celebrated, or the needs of the children. The Manual of which I have already spoken to you is a great help, gentlemen, in this respect, not only for the children, but also for the Catechists. In conclusion, I will say a few words concerning this book.
III.
The Manual for Catechisms has been composed chiefly with the view of helping such of the parochial Clergy as have the charge of the important ministry of Catechising. It sets forth to the Catechists and to the children the whole thing, the order and course of all that is done in the Catechisms of first Communion and of Perseverance, and serves as a guide to their piety through the whole course of the year; it is like a Paroissien, like a book of offices, where every meeting, every festival, every solemn time is presented in succession with [188] everything which belongs to it, and which helps to teach the spirit of it, and grasp its special object, as Billets, Admonitions, Hymns, Prayers, &c.
It is easy to see how useful all this order is, and what interest it gives to the different parts of the Catechism. How different, for instance, it is on the day of first Communion, when you are desiring to stir up the piety of the children, and make them feel the beauty of the services, if they have to look out in a collection, in the midst of a thousand different things, for here a prayer, there a hymn, for the acts of thanksgiving, &c., in another place; or on the other hand, everything which goes to make up this great and touching function is given to them in order and completeness!
I need not say, gentlemen, that in well-arranged Manuals the first Communion, Confirmation, and the week-day Catechism which prepares for them, have always been the object of very special care, and they form the most interesting part of the Manual. The first Communion is there treated as a great event, the approaches to it being gradually unfolded. The children are followed step by step, from the first meeting of the week-day Catechism, from their consecration to the Blessed Virgin, up to the important day on which, after most serious self-examination, they make their general confession. Then begins the immediate preparation for the first Communion. And then come the solemn meetings in Retreat, up to the great and happy days of Absolution, of first Communion, and of Confirmation. Finally, all this is crowned by the Renewal of Baptismal vows in the first Communion, by the festival devoted to perseverance, and by the gathering for farewell; and all so well combined that one feels the powerful influence of that Divine Spirit, Who, in the Church, has inspired the men of God, to whom we owe all the present beautiful organization of our Catechisms.
In the Manual upon which I was engaged, and which I can venture to recommend to you, because of the extreme care which was bestowed on it, I was afraid at first that we had given too many prayers for this particular time; but we could only congratulate ourselves when we saw how eagerly the [189] children seized on them as food for their devotion, and what fervour they kindled in them; never had our first Communions been so happy, above all never had the Confirmations been so edifying and so devout.
We also inserted, at the end of the morning prayer, a method for meditation, simple, short, and within the children's grasp. At the end of the work also there are a considerable number of meditations composed solely for them, and we have had the opportunity of seeing how easily children of all classes understand and practise this form of devotion, which is the foundation of all Christian living and the most certain guarantee for perseverance.
We hope also that we have made a happy choice of festivals for the Catechism, and that they may be suitable in all parishes. For the first festival in the little Catechisms for boys and girls, we have those of S. Joseph and the Childhood of the Blessed Virgin, and for the more solemn festival, the Love of Jesus for children; as the first festival of the Catechisms of Perseverance, we have that of S. Louis of Gonzaga for the boys, and the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin for the girls; and for the more solemn festival, the Holy Childhood of Jesus.
The repetition and explanation of Billets is undoubtedly one of the most interesting features of our meetings. It pleases the children wonderfully; instruction is conveyed in the most pleasant manner, sometimes even so playfully as to excite a smile, and it reaches their hearts with all the greater ease. At one time this exercise was very rare, and often lost a great deal of its interest, because the children, whose place it was to repeat, could hardly be heard. We have brought it back into more frequent use, and upwards of a hundred Billets, written for all the important festivals of the year, supply the children with a consecutive course of useful instructions; and since, by the help of the Manual, they have been able to follow the recitations, we have observed the quite new interest which they take in them. We have also added for each festival an act of consecration, suggested by the festival itself, and likely to lead the children on to form generous resolutions.
[190] As to the hymns, we have bestowed great pains on them; the greater part have been corrected, and moreover:
1. We have distributed them according to the festivals, the periods or times to which they belong; and thus, joined with the Billets, the Admonitions, prayers, &c., they form so many complete offices.
2. We have placed a title at the head of each hymn, which marks and explains its subject sufficiently to draw the attention of the children to it beforehand, and thus prepares them to enter into the spirit and feeling of the hymn.
I have now given you the contents of this book, which is called the Manual for Catechisms.
IV.
I will only now add two very important practical observations, and with these I shall conclude:
1. If you wish the children to sing, and to sing well, I cannot too often repeat, you must sing with them; every Catechist must also have his Manual, and use it. I have known children who for half an hour have not sung a verse, all at once begin to sing delightfully; simply because their Catechist had turned to them, looked at them, and said, " Sing, my children"; then singing himself, they were incited to sing too.
2. You must also know how to give out the hymns well, always saying the page as well as the hymn, so that the children may never be uncertain, nor the singing feeble. These simple words, well pronounced, with an audible voice, are enough: "Hymn p. 273, 'Mon bien-aimé ne paraît pas encore,'" or perhaps, "We are going to sing the 'Laudate, pueri,' p. 29." Having said this, then immediately begin to sing with vigour [sic] and boldness.
But for all this, I repeat, the Priests who support the singing, and above all the one who leads it, must stand, conversâ facie ad pueros, facing them, like the leader of an orchestra, who does not stand behind his musicians, or at the side, but at their head and facing them.
3. Hymns à refrain have an excellent effect, and are [191] generally very popular. The alternating of voices sung by the choir, with the refrain sung by the whole body, is sometimes exceedingly good.
The effect is not the same if the voices are alternated by the organ. The interruption of the voices by the organ playing alone, nearly always stops all ardour [sic] or enthusiasm. The choir, with the refrain, on the contrary, keeps it alive.
I have never had a single experience favourably [sic] to the use of the organ in this way. I have, on the contrary, always found that the organ played between the couplets or verses had an undoubtedly bad effect. It stops all enthusiasm.
4. It must be an understood thing, the organ is only really of use for accompanying the singing, and strengthening the voices, unless it may be during the coming in or going out, or possibly that the voices may rest on occasion of any great fatigue. An organ playing alone and alternating with the voices is a thing never known but amongst ourselves. Besides, who has not heard complaints against these organs, on which are sometimes played such unsuitable tunes? What is wanted is, that the organ shall accompany all the verses to strengthen the voices, and that the children and the congregation shall sing everything themselves from one end to the other, without any interruption from the organ breaking in alone.
In this discourse, gentlemen, I have entered into many practical details; but I do not think any man of experience can regret it. Theory is necessary, and first of all I set myself to show you the theory of the Catechisms, in all its truth and all its beauty; but the more beautiful the theory, the more is it necessary, if it is to be realized, that we should be thoroughly instructed in practical details; for in this case the details alone contain a real teaching, they have an undoubted use of their own.
In our next discourse, gentlemen, we shall treat on a subject which is again of very chief importance for the great work of the Catechism, and for the Christian education of the children: we shall speak of Prayers at the Catechism.
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Footnotes:
1. It is needless to say that all Catechists ought to sustain and lead the children's singing. A Catechist who docs not sing with the children surprises them, does them no good, and with reason, for evidently he is not a man who understands his business. Either zeal or piety is wanting in him, or health. If it is his health, the children ought to be told of it. We never allowed ourselves even to say our Breviary during the singing of the hymns.
2. I have seen deplorable examples of this; I have known a hymn on the Last Judgment sung at the beginning of Mass, and the hymn which should precede Communion, "Mon bien-aimé ne paraît pas encore," ["My Beloved does not appear yet"] sung as the hymn for an act of thanksgiving.
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Source: Félix Dupanloup, The Ministry of Catechising, trans. by E. A. Ellacombe (London: Griffith Farran Okeden & Welsh, 1890), 179–191.
THE HYMNS (Cantiques).
One of the things which can best help to give an interest and to put life into Catechisms,—as it is in all Confraternity or other religious meetings,—is the singing of hymns.
The singing of hymns makes children love the Catechism, it rests them, it charms them though still edifying them, while refreshing them it leads them to God, it gives an impulse to everything, and sometimes produces the very deepest impression upon souls.
A hymn well sung often does more for the conversion of children, and even for the greatest sinners, than the most moving exhortations.
I have been always so convinced of this, that if it had been proposed to me to conduct a Catechism without singing hymns, it would have been proposing to me an impossibility; and one year, when I had only seven children to prepare for their first Communion, three boys and four girls, yet nevertheless I made them sing hymns, and they sang them with delight.
But here I must enter into some preliminary details; I must also trace back these things to their highest source.
I shall therefore treat in succession: (1st) on sacred singing in general; (2nd) on the particular advantages of singing hymns at the Catechisms; (3rd) on the Manual of hymns for the Catechism. And first of all, on Sacred Singing.
I.
Next to the Divine sacrifice and the Sacraments, two things are all-important in religion and in public worship: the Word of God and sacred music.
[180] The one supports, animates and strengthens the other. By the one, God causes His voice to be heard by the people; by the other, the people lift up their voice to God. And thus we may venture to say that the music of the Church is equal to the Word, and that it is also inspired by God. Who, indeed, has not felt the Divine inspiration in our admirable liturgical chants?
Yes, the singing the praises of God in psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, this singing being led, strengthened and improved by the organ, which seems to belong to religion, is one of the most powerful means we possess for influencing souls, and lifting them up to Heaven. If we would save them, it is not enough to speak to them of God, we must make them speak to God, and how? By prayer, by adoration, by thanksgiving, and above all by that worship which consists in singing the praises of God; there, besides the expression of our needs, we have thanksgiving and adoration; there the most lukewarm become fervent, the most fervent are lifted up yet higher; sinners are moved, subdued, they sing out their remorse, the condemnation of their faults, the happiness of repenting of them.
If you do nothing but preach, whether more or less well; if you do not let them sing, their souls will sink into weariness, and soon they will not know what to do or to say in relation to God.
You know how S. Augustine relates his experience: "What emotion I felt, how many tears did I shed when listening to the melodious concert of hymns and sacred songs which echoed in Thy Church! While my ear yielded to the charm of these Divine harmonies, my heart was sweetly flooded with the pure waves of Thy truth, with impetuous ardour [sic] it broke out in holy impulses; my tears flowed in torrents, and it was happiness to me to shed them."
This, gentlemen, is one of the secrets of nature, or to speak more rightly, of Providence. Singing is one of the noblest and strongest ways of expressing the feelings of the soul. As S. Augustine again has said, "Cantat amor!" Singing is love; thus everything sings in nature, everything sings in [181] heaven. It is the enthusiasm of the heart. When any kind of feeling within us reaches a certain degree of depth and strength, it naturally gives itself out in song, and then all at once it acquires a wonderful power of communicating itself to others. It moves souls. Whence comes it! What is the secret of this mysterious relation between musical things, cadence, rhythm, harmony, melody, and the deepest powers of our being? I know not. But it is a fact; this is why everything in the soul sings; why all that is noble, ardent, generous, passionate breaks out into song. And sacred song also, and more than all, is enthusiasm; but it is the enthusiasm of all the greatest, the purest, the best feelings of man's heart. Thus, in a Christian congregation, it affects all, it animates, it lifts up, it charms; it excites the weak, the strong, the lukewarm, the fervent, the good, and even the wicked; who has not at some time seen it? Who, for instance, has been able to listen without emotion to the united voices of the crowds under the vaulted roofs of our churches, or to a chant sweetly echoing from the deep and inaccessible retreats of a monastery? But if the singing of the Church is to produce such an effect, it must be really religious singing, as perfect as possible; and above all, it must be popular, that is to say, sung by all the faithful.
I have said to you often, gentlemen, and not without reason, that when the time comes that you have taught your parishioners to sing the Psalms and hymns, then your parishes will be won. From that time, they will love their Church and their Pastor. People who have sung joyfully and with all their heart, love what they have sung, they love the place where they have sung, the pleasant recollection attaches them to it; also they love those with whom they have sung. Would you then have them love God and virtue, and the Church, let them in the church sing the praises of God and virtue.
You have difficulty in bringing them to pray; begin by giving them a taste for hymns; make them sing; for to sing is to pray, it is to pray fervently, sometimes even with transport.
[182] This is true above all with children. The singing of the hymns in well-conducted Catechisms, as also at any time, the singing of Psalms, may sometimes become, on the lips and in the heart of these dear children, the most fervent prayer.
Not only is to sing to pray; but you need only think for a moment, and you will see that even in the singing of hymns there is included the two great means of religious influence of which we spoke a few days ago, Instruction and Exhortation.
For my own part, I believe without any doubt that the singing of hymns during the Catechism is one of the most powerful means for at the same time instructing the children soundly, touching their heart, lifting up their soul, and converting them. And what I say now of the Catechisms and the children, you know that I would say the same for the parochial services provided for all the faithful.
And, in fact, all the truths of the faith, all the great moral precepts, all the most urgent motives for flying from evil and practising [sic] goodness, are to be found on every page in a collection of hymns and sacred songs. And what is also most valuable is, as S. Paul says, that in sacred singing, every one instructs and exhorts himself, without need of any other preacher: "Docentes et commonentes cosmetipsos psalmis, hymnis et canticis spiritualibus" (Col. iii. 16). Now is it not a matter of experience that the mind accepts more readily what in this way it says to itself, and that the heart is more strongly though gently impressed? Above all, if the words are helped, as in this case, by that powerful influence which music exerts over the senses, the imagination, and the feelings; that sort of influence which we call a charm.
Hymns, then, both instruct and exhort, but they have further this very great advantage, that they oblige the children at the same time to make all sorts of religious acts, acts of faith, of hope, of love, of contrition, of good resolve, &c. All these acts, in fact, are to be found in the hymns.
It will be said perhaps by several, that these acts are only on their lips. No, gentlemen, such acts cannot be only on their lips, they cannot be frequently brought into remembrance by sacred singing, without the heart gradually [183] becoming familiar with them, taking pleasure in them, and at last thoroughly entering into the feelings they express.
Besides, in the Catechism, one is not confined to having the hymns sung; they are explained; they are developed; the beauty of them is shown to the children; they are made to feel their force and unction; and there is no kind of discourse to which they are more alive.
I have had a thousand experiences of this, all more astonishing and delightful one than another. It was by the singing of the hymns that I could do something even with the most hopeless children. If a child with whom we had been able to do nothing, up to the very end of the week-day Catechism, all at once began to sing the hymns, we said: He is saved. And in fact, every day we saw the most delightful changes being worked in him. He became thoughtful, attentive, pious, very soon even penetrated with compunction, and by the end of the Catechism and the Retreat, he showed some times a fervour [sic] which was most touching.
And even when we were uneasy about an entire Catechism of first Communion, when the great work of converting all these young souls was not being accomplished according to our desires, we redoubled our zeal, not only in instructing and exhorting them, but also in making them sing the hymns well. We all sang with them.[1] The parents who were present at the Catechism often sang with us; we never allowed a single child to be there without his Manual in his hand, and without singing with all his heart; and not a week, not a fort night passed that we did not discover in them those signs of progress which made us happy again.
Thus I have always believed, gentlemen, and what I see every day in this diocese confirms me in the belief, that every Curé who knows how to organize perfectly—not only in his [184] Catechisms, but throughout his parish—the sacred music, to be sung not only by the choir but by all the people, will not have to wait long before he sees faith and piety flourishing again, together with a love for the Church and her holy offices. Several of you have already gained this result in the Catechisms of Perseverance and in confraternities, and it is most desirable that you should have the same success in the general congregations of the parish, by letting the faithful sing, whether at High Mass or at Vespers.
But if you desire that this sacred music should become altogether popular in your parishes, the way is to teach it to the children in the Catechisms. Yes, teach them to chant, in Latin, the Kyrie, the Gloria, the Credo, the Psalms for Sunday, these which have been consecrated by the usage of the Church, and which are so easy to understand, and some well-known hymns.
The most beautiful sacred hymns have been inspired by the real Presence of our Lord in the Eucharist: the Ave Verum, O Salutaris, Tantum ergo, Adoro Te, supplex, Lauda Sion; if possible, let your children learn these by heart; let them learn also the Litanies of the Blessed Virgin, the Inviolata, and even our admirable Stabat; and besides all these, some of the hymns in the vernacular from the Manual: thenceforth, the spirit of grace and of prayer will not be slow to descend upon them, and through them on all your parishioners. The parish in Paris, where the congregational singing is best, is Saint-Sulpice, for it is the parish where for so long a time sacred singing has flourished in the Catechisms.
Besides, nothing is more easy than to teach the children to sing all this. I see, in the greater number of parishes, if the Curé only throws a little zeal into it, that not only the children, but the whole congregation, sing gladly and very well, if the choir and the ophicleides [i.e. a brass instrument] allow them.
[185] II.
Singing hymns has, besides, gentlemen, other advantages, less exalted apparently, but yet greatly valued by those holy and famous Catechists whose example I have set before you.
And first, if well arranged, and alternating with the other parts of the Catechism, the singing prevents weariness in the children, it refreshes them, it rests them after the more serious exercise which has just finished, and it prepares them for that which is about to follow. And with these young natures, nothing is more necessary, in a Catechism which ought to last two hours, and in which so many serious and important things have to be said.
"It must be considered," says Fénélon, "that children's heads are weak, that at their age they are only alive to pleasure; and yet people expect from them an exact propriety and seriousness which they themselves would not be capable of."The admirable S. François de Sales was quite alive to this, when desiring, by singing hymns, to rejoice the hearts of the children whom he was catechising [sic].
"The hour over, a devout hymn was sung, either to a tune, or simply intoned, or with the organ, the hymn itself being composed by the blessed man, or some other; certainly he did sometimes, as a sort of recreation, give his mind to this sort of poetry; or else he would choose some psalm of David, and give it to the musicians to set to a tune."Fénélon has remarked that it was by the pleasure of poetry and music that maxims of virtue and polish of manners were introduced among the Hebrews and the Greeks. "Little as one knows of history, we cannot doubt that it was the common practice for many centuries." It is at least certain that, from Apostolic times, it has been the practice of the Church, which has desired, by means of sacred music, to offer to the faithful, and specially to children, an easy way of being instructed in religion, and also to excite earnest and sublime feelings after virtue in their souls.
We read in the Life of Saint François Xavier that he composed hymns for his Catechumens, and that he went so far as [186] to set to music the Lord's Prayer, the Angelic Salutation, and the Apostles' Creed. His historian relates that not only did he by this means banish all the bad songs which the new Christians had sung before their baptism, but that he also supplied this Christian community with a new means of edification. "For the hymns of the holy missionary so pleased men, women, and children, that they sang them day and night, both at home and out in the country." S. Charles Borromeo produced similar effects at Milan, by the hymns which he caused to be sung at his Catechisms. M. Alain de Solminihac, Bishop of Cahors, also put into verse the Ten Commandments and the Apostles' Creed, so that his people might be able to sing them.
Finally, and this last advantage is not unimportant, singing the hymns helps to keep up order and silence, and prevents the distraction of the children, at certain moments when it is almost inevitable. For instance, those who are accustomed to Catechisms know that when an exercise comes to an end, the children make a confused noise, such as one hears in churches after the first point of a sermon; they take their books, they hastily open their hymn-books, sometimes they will ask their neighbours [sic] a question, or even the Catechists; as if, wearied with the attention they have been giving, they are trying now to make up for it. The same sort of thing happens when they are going away after the Catechism; one form after another gets up all together, they defile [sic] into the aisles while other children are leaving their places to follow them, and others again to follow on. Well, if the precaution has been taken to make the children sing at that time, the sound of the music will cover the noise; they will not be aware of the noise which their movement must cause, and by this pious device you accustom them to feel that calmness and quiet are never absent from the Catechisms.
I borrow these practical observations, which are of real importance, from the excellent Méthode de S. Sulpice.
But, I ought to add, if the singing of hymns is to be really profitable, the Head Catechist, ought to give it his greatest attention, he ought frequently to remind the children that [187] their hymns are prayers, and he should explain them in such a manner that the children will understand the sense and enjoy the words. One very necessary point is that they should never be allowed to scream in singing, the youngest are certain to do it. It must be stopped at once. It should be immediately and very severely rebuked and warned against. Neither must there be any hurry in the singing, though at the same time it must not be allowed to drag—slowness is sometimes unbearable to children. It is easier, particularly for boys, to sing a little fast than too slowly.
The Head Catechist should be constantly occupied in making those sing who are not singing, in moderating the voices, in directing the whole; and for this purpose, his great duty is to arrange, prepare, and study the hymns well which he means to be sung at the Catechism, and to have the list, of which he gives a duplicate to the organist, quite ready. Without this precaution, the chances are that the same hymns will be always sung, perhaps two or three which do not suit either the circumstances,[2] or the festivals which are being celebrated, or the needs of the children. The Manual of which I have already spoken to you is a great help, gentlemen, in this respect, not only for the children, but also for the Catechists. In conclusion, I will say a few words concerning this book.
III.
The Manual for Catechisms has been composed chiefly with the view of helping such of the parochial Clergy as have the charge of the important ministry of Catechising. It sets forth to the Catechists and to the children the whole thing, the order and course of all that is done in the Catechisms of first Communion and of Perseverance, and serves as a guide to their piety through the whole course of the year; it is like a Paroissien, like a book of offices, where every meeting, every festival, every solemn time is presented in succession with [188] everything which belongs to it, and which helps to teach the spirit of it, and grasp its special object, as Billets, Admonitions, Hymns, Prayers, &c.
It is easy to see how useful all this order is, and what interest it gives to the different parts of the Catechism. How different, for instance, it is on the day of first Communion, when you are desiring to stir up the piety of the children, and make them feel the beauty of the services, if they have to look out in a collection, in the midst of a thousand different things, for here a prayer, there a hymn, for the acts of thanksgiving, &c., in another place; or on the other hand, everything which goes to make up this great and touching function is given to them in order and completeness!
I need not say, gentlemen, that in well-arranged Manuals the first Communion, Confirmation, and the week-day Catechism which prepares for them, have always been the object of very special care, and they form the most interesting part of the Manual. The first Communion is there treated as a great event, the approaches to it being gradually unfolded. The children are followed step by step, from the first meeting of the week-day Catechism, from their consecration to the Blessed Virgin, up to the important day on which, after most serious self-examination, they make their general confession. Then begins the immediate preparation for the first Communion. And then come the solemn meetings in Retreat, up to the great and happy days of Absolution, of first Communion, and of Confirmation. Finally, all this is crowned by the Renewal of Baptismal vows in the first Communion, by the festival devoted to perseverance, and by the gathering for farewell; and all so well combined that one feels the powerful influence of that Divine Spirit, Who, in the Church, has inspired the men of God, to whom we owe all the present beautiful organization of our Catechisms.
In the Manual upon which I was engaged, and which I can venture to recommend to you, because of the extreme care which was bestowed on it, I was afraid at first that we had given too many prayers for this particular time; but we could only congratulate ourselves when we saw how eagerly the [189] children seized on them as food for their devotion, and what fervour they kindled in them; never had our first Communions been so happy, above all never had the Confirmations been so edifying and so devout.
We also inserted, at the end of the morning prayer, a method for meditation, simple, short, and within the children's grasp. At the end of the work also there are a considerable number of meditations composed solely for them, and we have had the opportunity of seeing how easily children of all classes understand and practise this form of devotion, which is the foundation of all Christian living and the most certain guarantee for perseverance.
We hope also that we have made a happy choice of festivals for the Catechism, and that they may be suitable in all parishes. For the first festival in the little Catechisms for boys and girls, we have those of S. Joseph and the Childhood of the Blessed Virgin, and for the more solemn festival, the Love of Jesus for children; as the first festival of the Catechisms of Perseverance, we have that of S. Louis of Gonzaga for the boys, and the Immaculate Conception of the Blessed Virgin for the girls; and for the more solemn festival, the Holy Childhood of Jesus.
The repetition and explanation of Billets is undoubtedly one of the most interesting features of our meetings. It pleases the children wonderfully; instruction is conveyed in the most pleasant manner, sometimes even so playfully as to excite a smile, and it reaches their hearts with all the greater ease. At one time this exercise was very rare, and often lost a great deal of its interest, because the children, whose place it was to repeat, could hardly be heard. We have brought it back into more frequent use, and upwards of a hundred Billets, written for all the important festivals of the year, supply the children with a consecutive course of useful instructions; and since, by the help of the Manual, they have been able to follow the recitations, we have observed the quite new interest which they take in them. We have also added for each festival an act of consecration, suggested by the festival itself, and likely to lead the children on to form generous resolutions.
[190] As to the hymns, we have bestowed great pains on them; the greater part have been corrected, and moreover:
1. We have distributed them according to the festivals, the periods or times to which they belong; and thus, joined with the Billets, the Admonitions, prayers, &c., they form so many complete offices.
2. We have placed a title at the head of each hymn, which marks and explains its subject sufficiently to draw the attention of the children to it beforehand, and thus prepares them to enter into the spirit and feeling of the hymn.
I have now given you the contents of this book, which is called the Manual for Catechisms.
IV.
I will only now add two very important practical observations, and with these I shall conclude:
1. If you wish the children to sing, and to sing well, I cannot too often repeat, you must sing with them; every Catechist must also have his Manual, and use it. I have known children who for half an hour have not sung a verse, all at once begin to sing delightfully; simply because their Catechist had turned to them, looked at them, and said, " Sing, my children"; then singing himself, they were incited to sing too.
2. You must also know how to give out the hymns well, always saying the page as well as the hymn, so that the children may never be uncertain, nor the singing feeble. These simple words, well pronounced, with an audible voice, are enough: "Hymn p. 273, 'Mon bien-aimé ne paraît pas encore,'" or perhaps, "We are going to sing the 'Laudate, pueri,' p. 29." Having said this, then immediately begin to sing with vigour [sic] and boldness.
But for all this, I repeat, the Priests who support the singing, and above all the one who leads it, must stand, conversâ facie ad pueros, facing them, like the leader of an orchestra, who does not stand behind his musicians, or at the side, but at their head and facing them.
3. Hymns à refrain have an excellent effect, and are [191] generally very popular. The alternating of voices sung by the choir, with the refrain sung by the whole body, is sometimes exceedingly good.
The effect is not the same if the voices are alternated by the organ. The interruption of the voices by the organ playing alone, nearly always stops all ardour [sic] or enthusiasm. The choir, with the refrain, on the contrary, keeps it alive.
I have never had a single experience favourably [sic] to the use of the organ in this way. I have, on the contrary, always found that the organ played between the couplets or verses had an undoubtedly bad effect. It stops all enthusiasm.
4. It must be an understood thing, the organ is only really of use for accompanying the singing, and strengthening the voices, unless it may be during the coming in or going out, or possibly that the voices may rest on occasion of any great fatigue. An organ playing alone and alternating with the voices is a thing never known but amongst ourselves. Besides, who has not heard complaints against these organs, on which are sometimes played such unsuitable tunes? What is wanted is, that the organ shall accompany all the verses to strengthen the voices, and that the children and the congregation shall sing everything themselves from one end to the other, without any interruption from the organ breaking in alone.
In this discourse, gentlemen, I have entered into many practical details; but I do not think any man of experience can regret it. Theory is necessary, and first of all I set myself to show you the theory of the Catechisms, in all its truth and all its beauty; but the more beautiful the theory, the more is it necessary, if it is to be realized, that we should be thoroughly instructed in practical details; for in this case the details alone contain a real teaching, they have an undoubted use of their own.
In our next discourse, gentlemen, we shall treat on a subject which is again of very chief importance for the great work of the Catechism, and for the Christian education of the children: we shall speak of Prayers at the Catechism.
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Footnotes:
1. It is needless to say that all Catechists ought to sustain and lead the children's singing. A Catechist who docs not sing with the children surprises them, does them no good, and with reason, for evidently he is not a man who understands his business. Either zeal or piety is wanting in him, or health. If it is his health, the children ought to be told of it. We never allowed ourselves even to say our Breviary during the singing of the hymns.
2. I have seen deplorable examples of this; I have known a hymn on the Last Judgment sung at the beginning of Mass, and the hymn which should precede Communion, "Mon bien-aimé ne paraît pas encore," ["My Beloved does not appear yet"] sung as the hymn for an act of thanksgiving.
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Source: Félix Dupanloup, The Ministry of Catechising, trans. by E. A. Ellacombe (London: Griffith Farran Okeden & Welsh, 1890), 179–191.
Tuesday, November 12, 2019
Singing the New Songs (1965)
[61] A few years ago you might have been surprised (shocked?) to hear that Guy Lombardo had written a mass. Or Spike Jones. Today people in that category are writting [sic] masses but without the talent or musicianship of anybody leading a name-band or even a local combo. I wonder what the Rolling Stones, the Four Lads, (going back again) Jackie Gleason or the Dave Clark Five could work up for a church wedding or a modern Requiem? The Beatles might attract a crowd with some special music for Holy Week. Lloyd Thaxton could probably take over some afternoon Mass in California and direct the crowd through a Gloria in the best Frug rhythms, or Peter, Paul and Mary might be invited to some cathderal [sic] to work out a few numbers for Christmas. But get everybody into it. Just so they all participate!
A few musicologists and a great number of non-musicologists have decided lately that there is really no difference between secular and church music. The problem isn't half so much whether there is a difference as whether they want a difference. We must attract teenagers, relate to the existential world, accept a realistic culture — and all that. Then why not retranslate the Hail Mary into jive-talk or into ancient rock n' roll: "like man, Mary, you are in, really cool among women...." I'd better stop. As someone said, "It's all right for me to make these cracks because I'm deeply religious!" If you use the music, why not use the words that go with it? Under what auspices are we trying to achieve participation? Togetherness. With the latest hankering for store-front churches and family masses, much could be done to "come alive" with the music. Or are all these sentiments the final groanings of a bitter conservative? I think not. Not as long as God is worthy of the best we have in talent and art and appropriate expression; not as long as we can distinguish between the Eucharist and a continental breakfast!
It seems more and more evident, as hootenanny masses are being promoted here and there, that we had better line up our notions of participation with the purpose we have in participation; otherwise, see if you can program a little Gregorian Chant for the New Year's party in the Blue Room of New Orlean's Roosevelt Hotel. There must be a difference between secular and sacred music! The Church has been trying to impress this doctrine on people since the days of Palestrina. The vestments of a priest (how long will they last?) indicate the vast difference between worshipping God and driving a taxicab. The windows in a church are supposed to add something sacred to the mere function of ventilation. So with the language we address to God. So, then, with the music we use in His presence.
[62] Serious-minded church musicians are alarmed by the great number of inept composers who contribute to the current mediocrity in music destined for worship. The rediscovery of private judgment and freedom of untrained opinion has silenced many proficient musicians and stimulated people to compose who hardly understand the elements of the modern major scale. When I was a child I begged and begged to be allowed to sit at the piano. Finally the day came when the concession was granted for a period of two minutes. I was dismayed that I couldn't make effective music simply by hitting the piano with my hands and fists. The only difference between some of these composers and me is that they seem undismayed by the results of their efforts.
These jeremiads have been repeated over and over, but the stockpile of church-music "bombs" increases hourly. Some liturgical people have developed a keen discriminatory sense regarding metrical English hymns; they anathematize — rightly — the old sugar-tunes and ballads and commend heartily the vast importation of heterodox tunes and amended texts — rightly; but they seem to look with unruffled spirit upon every kind of musical tripe which is set to the proper and the ordinary of High Masses: "It's good; everybody will participate." Is it artistic, well adapted to reverent worship, competently composed by people with true musical instinct? "Oh, that's not important: the thing is to get the people singing!" This is not a complaint against modern or contemporary concepts or true progressivism in church music; it's a complaint against the tawdry and secularistic substitutes. Too often if a piece of music is sufficiently discordant it is considered "aggiornamented," — "hodiernistic," I like to call it. Discord and dissonance mean the same thing to an untrained musician. If the music follows the fundamental rules of acoustics (harmony and counterpoint) it's "romantic" — Ugh! that ugly word! But a musician should know the rules of harmony well enough to break them skillfully and for a good musical reason. Bad grammar may be respectable at times if it is used deliberately. Otherwise it is just stupidity. Not so in hodiernistic church music! Anything goes, just so the crowd can be made to sing it. To impose the free expression of an ignorant composer on a congregation is to make slaves of the many! The people will accept the compositions of a well-prepared and knowledgeable musician even if some elements were foreign to their tastes. They could assume, at least, that they were being asked to sing good music, music worthy of the worship of God.
The whole problem is reducible to an appropriate system of wieghts [sic] and measures: standards. That problem cannot be handled well except by trained musicians any more than a simple appendectomy can be performed by a whittler. The Church Music Association of America will shortly be calling [63] upon definitely proficient musicians to put out a list of recommended music as a service to choirmasters and organists. There will likely be no direct condemnations of any music proposed for church use, but on a positive level the Association will name the items which it feels will preserve the proper elements for truly artistic and worship-engendering music. This list will supplant the former "White List of the St. Gregory Society" which attempted the same thing at a level based on church legislation. At any rate, the judgment of competent church musicians will afford greater reliability in deciding what is appropriate and spiritual.
The problems connected with the adaptation of chant to the vernacular have been gone over in the previous issue of SACRED MUSIC as well as in other trade papers; but there is no question that St. Pius X's principle about judging music for church on the objective standards of the movement, inspiration and savor of the Gregorian Chant is entirely valid today; all subsequent direction from the Holy See has backed up the same principle because it produces a music which is innately holy, artistic and universally acceptable. That does not mean that we must compose chant, or distort the chant melodies by weaving them into modern music. But all church music, however up-to-date, will have the qualities proper to worship when it reflects the spirit which the chant evinces.
Presently being prepared is a type of music known as Verna Canto which will undoubtedly come into very wide use. The composer intends to remain ananymous [sic]. The experimental stages have revealed that the music has a high spiritual content, is ideally suited to the vernacular and, though it preserves the modality and the rhythm of the ancient chant, it makes no attempt to reflect the actual melodies or musical formulae. Others have also experimented with adaptations of polyphony, but these efforts may not fare so well. In spite of that, the original literature is often so noble that it may furnish a legitimate excuse for some arbitrary use of Latin in our future liturgy.
Modern and contemporary church music is impossible for the hack, the amateur composer. Only a skilled musician can keep it from all sorts of absurd affectations and eccentricities. The banalities produced under this category are indistinguishable from the abominations about which we have been complaining. The liturgy is still to undergo many changes in text and format. Experiments are soon to be conducted in this country, but the strain of waiting for a truly spiritual music based on a final form for the English should not drive us into accepting the worse-than-mediocre materials which are produced these days in so great an abundance. What we might consider a temporary expedient could dissipate good taste and propriety for generations. Caution is then the interim corollary.
---
Source: John C. Selner, "Singing the New Songs," Sacred Music 92, no. 1 (1965): 61–63.
A few musicologists and a great number of non-musicologists have decided lately that there is really no difference between secular and church music. The problem isn't half so much whether there is a difference as whether they want a difference. We must attract teenagers, relate to the existential world, accept a realistic culture — and all that. Then why not retranslate the Hail Mary into jive-talk or into ancient rock n' roll: "like man, Mary, you are in, really cool among women...." I'd better stop. As someone said, "It's all right for me to make these cracks because I'm deeply religious!" If you use the music, why not use the words that go with it? Under what auspices are we trying to achieve participation? Togetherness. With the latest hankering for store-front churches and family masses, much could be done to "come alive" with the music. Or are all these sentiments the final groanings of a bitter conservative? I think not. Not as long as God is worthy of the best we have in talent and art and appropriate expression; not as long as we can distinguish between the Eucharist and a continental breakfast!
It seems more and more evident, as hootenanny masses are being promoted here and there, that we had better line up our notions of participation with the purpose we have in participation; otherwise, see if you can program a little Gregorian Chant for the New Year's party in the Blue Room of New Orlean's Roosevelt Hotel. There must be a difference between secular and sacred music! The Church has been trying to impress this doctrine on people since the days of Palestrina. The vestments of a priest (how long will they last?) indicate the vast difference between worshipping God and driving a taxicab. The windows in a church are supposed to add something sacred to the mere function of ventilation. So with the language we address to God. So, then, with the music we use in His presence.
[62] Serious-minded church musicians are alarmed by the great number of inept composers who contribute to the current mediocrity in music destined for worship. The rediscovery of private judgment and freedom of untrained opinion has silenced many proficient musicians and stimulated people to compose who hardly understand the elements of the modern major scale. When I was a child I begged and begged to be allowed to sit at the piano. Finally the day came when the concession was granted for a period of two minutes. I was dismayed that I couldn't make effective music simply by hitting the piano with my hands and fists. The only difference between some of these composers and me is that they seem undismayed by the results of their efforts.
These jeremiads have been repeated over and over, but the stockpile of church-music "bombs" increases hourly. Some liturgical people have developed a keen discriminatory sense regarding metrical English hymns; they anathematize — rightly — the old sugar-tunes and ballads and commend heartily the vast importation of heterodox tunes and amended texts — rightly; but they seem to look with unruffled spirit upon every kind of musical tripe which is set to the proper and the ordinary of High Masses: "It's good; everybody will participate." Is it artistic, well adapted to reverent worship, competently composed by people with true musical instinct? "Oh, that's not important: the thing is to get the people singing!" This is not a complaint against modern or contemporary concepts or true progressivism in church music; it's a complaint against the tawdry and secularistic substitutes. Too often if a piece of music is sufficiently discordant it is considered "aggiornamented," — "hodiernistic," I like to call it. Discord and dissonance mean the same thing to an untrained musician. If the music follows the fundamental rules of acoustics (harmony and counterpoint) it's "romantic" — Ugh! that ugly word! But a musician should know the rules of harmony well enough to break them skillfully and for a good musical reason. Bad grammar may be respectable at times if it is used deliberately. Otherwise it is just stupidity. Not so in hodiernistic church music! Anything goes, just so the crowd can be made to sing it. To impose the free expression of an ignorant composer on a congregation is to make slaves of the many! The people will accept the compositions of a well-prepared and knowledgeable musician even if some elements were foreign to their tastes. They could assume, at least, that they were being asked to sing good music, music worthy of the worship of God.
The whole problem is reducible to an appropriate system of wieghts [sic] and measures: standards. That problem cannot be handled well except by trained musicians any more than a simple appendectomy can be performed by a whittler. The Church Music Association of America will shortly be calling [63] upon definitely proficient musicians to put out a list of recommended music as a service to choirmasters and organists. There will likely be no direct condemnations of any music proposed for church use, but on a positive level the Association will name the items which it feels will preserve the proper elements for truly artistic and worship-engendering music. This list will supplant the former "White List of the St. Gregory Society" which attempted the same thing at a level based on church legislation. At any rate, the judgment of competent church musicians will afford greater reliability in deciding what is appropriate and spiritual.
The problems connected with the adaptation of chant to the vernacular have been gone over in the previous issue of SACRED MUSIC as well as in other trade papers; but there is no question that St. Pius X's principle about judging music for church on the objective standards of the movement, inspiration and savor of the Gregorian Chant is entirely valid today; all subsequent direction from the Holy See has backed up the same principle because it produces a music which is innately holy, artistic and universally acceptable. That does not mean that we must compose chant, or distort the chant melodies by weaving them into modern music. But all church music, however up-to-date, will have the qualities proper to worship when it reflects the spirit which the chant evinces.
Presently being prepared is a type of music known as Verna Canto which will undoubtedly come into very wide use. The composer intends to remain ananymous [sic]. The experimental stages have revealed that the music has a high spiritual content, is ideally suited to the vernacular and, though it preserves the modality and the rhythm of the ancient chant, it makes no attempt to reflect the actual melodies or musical formulae. Others have also experimented with adaptations of polyphony, but these efforts may not fare so well. In spite of that, the original literature is often so noble that it may furnish a legitimate excuse for some arbitrary use of Latin in our future liturgy.
Modern and contemporary church music is impossible for the hack, the amateur composer. Only a skilled musician can keep it from all sorts of absurd affectations and eccentricities. The banalities produced under this category are indistinguishable from the abominations about which we have been complaining. The liturgy is still to undergo many changes in text and format. Experiments are soon to be conducted in this country, but the strain of waiting for a truly spiritual music based on a final form for the English should not drive us into accepting the worse-than-mediocre materials which are produced these days in so great an abundance. What we might consider a temporary expedient could dissipate good taste and propriety for generations. Caution is then the interim corollary.
---
Source: John C. Selner, "Singing the New Songs," Sacred Music 92, no. 1 (1965): 61–63.
Church Legislation on Education in 1929
[12] THE OFFICIAL POSITION of the Catholic Church regarding education can be clearly determined by reference to three sources, namely: the Decrees of the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore, the Code of Canon Law and the 1919 Pastoral Letter of the Hierarchy.
"All parents shall be bound to send their children to a parochial school, unless it is evident that such children obtain a sufficient Christian education at home, or unless they attend some other Catholic school, or unless, for sufficient cause approved by the bishop, with proper cautions and remedies duly applied, they attend another school. It is left to the Ordinary to decide what constitutes a Catholic school."—From the Law Promulgated by the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore, 1884.
Canon 1113: "Parents are bound by a most grave obligation to provide to the best of their ability for the religious and moral as well as for the physical and civil education of their children, and for their temporal well-being."
Canon 1373: "In every elementary school religious instruction, adapted to the age of the children, must be given."
Canon 1374: "Catholic children must not attend non-Catholic. neutral, or mixed schools, that is, such as are also open to non-Catholics. It is for the bishop of the place alone to decide, according to the instructions of the Apostolic See, in what circumstances and with what precautions attendance at such schools may be tolerated, without danger of perversion to the pupils."—From the New Code of Canon Law [i.e. the 1917 Code].
---
Source: "Legislation of the Church on Education," The National Catholic Welfare Council Bulletin 11, no. 3 (Aug. 1929): 12.
"All parents shall be bound to send their children to a parochial school, unless it is evident that such children obtain a sufficient Christian education at home, or unless they attend some other Catholic school, or unless, for sufficient cause approved by the bishop, with proper cautions and remedies duly applied, they attend another school. It is left to the Ordinary to decide what constitutes a Catholic school."—From the Law Promulgated by the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore, 1884.
Canon 1113: "Parents are bound by a most grave obligation to provide to the best of their ability for the religious and moral as well as for the physical and civil education of their children, and for their temporal well-being."
Canon 1373: "In every elementary school religious instruction, adapted to the age of the children, must be given."
Canon 1374: "Catholic children must not attend non-Catholic. neutral, or mixed schools, that is, such as are also open to non-Catholics. It is for the bishop of the place alone to decide, according to the instructions of the Apostolic See, in what circumstances and with what precautions attendance at such schools may be tolerated, without danger of perversion to the pupils."—From the New Code of Canon Law [i.e. the 1917 Code].
---
Source: "Legislation of the Church on Education," The National Catholic Welfare Council Bulletin 11, no. 3 (Aug. 1929): 12.
The Religious School: An American Institution (1929)
[11] *
HISTORICALLY, FREEDOM OF education has always been a characteristic of our American polity. The first American schools were religious, and they continued so up to the middle of the last century.
In origin, at least, the secular school is not an American institution; it is an importation from Continental Europe, born of the compromises and ambitions of contending politicians.
Constitutionally, the religious school is as American as the secular school. If there is one point in American jurisprudence which is accepted by all, it is the principle that to the parent belongs the primary right to educate and to select the type of education he desires his children to have.
Legal decision after decision confirms that right. The Supreme Court itself, in the famous Oregon decision [i.e. Pierce vs. Society of Sisters of the Holy Names (1925) regarding an Oregon law requiring children to attend only public schools], once and forever settled that question of right. And in the pursuance of that right of American citizenship, if we elect to give at our own expense a religious education to our children, who can gainsay that right, who can accuse us of disloyalty to the Constitution, who can justly contend that we oppose one of the fundamental institutions of the country?
Since the beginning of this nation we have had religious schools; we have the constitutional right to conduct such schools; we would be traitors to our highest interests and to our profoundest beliefs in the need of religious training for the preservation of the best in American citizenship, were we to fail to maintain and support religious education.
THE reason is simple—religious education for us is not a purple patch added on to the ordinary curriculum. It is the very soul, the life-breath of all our training. It is as necessary to the preservation and development of Catholic life as is the air we breathe to the preservation of our natural life. To close our schools in the hope that our fellow-citizens would then come to understand that we do not oppose public education, would be a futile gesture; it would be to betray our faith in American justice, history, law; it would but add to the tremendous difficulties which every democracy must face in its continuous struggle for existence; it would be a denial of our very belief in the teaching of Christ which we profess to hold.
Fortunately, one need no longer defend, at least in educational circles, the religious school. There has come about a wonderful change in viewpoint in that regard in the last ten years. To an attitude of hostility there has succeeded an attitude of challenge, and I venture to think that it will be much more difficult for us to meet the latter than it was the former.
The religious school today is on trial before the bar of American education. And it will be judged in the only way that Americans know how to judge—by results. Its future will be determined not by attacks made upon it but rather by the type of men and women which the religious school produces. It is to them that we must turn, in the last analysis, for the justification of our schools.
IF the religious school continues to turn out, as it has done, strong, virile, intelligent, unusually upright men and women as citizens of this Republic, we need have little fear of those narrow partisans who go about poisoning the public conscience with the age-old cry of Catholic opposition to the public school.
The Catholic citizenship of this Republic can not [sic] rise above its source—and that source is our schools. If we are to be compelled, for any reason whatsoever, to continue to meet rancor, prejudice, hatred, and discrimination, let us meet them in the only way Christians can and should, and in the only way which will bring certain and complete victory. And what is that way? By concentrating our efforts toward the development of a Catholic body which, because of its understanding, intelligence, and virtue, will be irresistible. Knowledge can conquer ignorance; love, hatred; truth, prejudice; loyalty, distrust. And the great instrument in the production of these qualities in our men and women is the school. From elementary school to university let us make of these schools a great crucible from which shall come forth gold of the purest quality in the form of alert, sincere, educated men and women.
I WOULD particularly insist on the need of university trained men and women, since it is from them that leadership and all the accomplishments which we associate rightly with finely trained minds must come. The training of scholars may seem, at first view, no part of our Catholic duty. On second thought there is no one who can not understand that without general support the university can not function as it should, that it is to the interest of each individual, no matter how lowly his position may be, to assist in the training of that group of scholars who by their labors in the fields of science, philosophy, and religion will do more to dispel the dark clouds of ignorance and bigotry than a veritable army of men ready to lay down their lives for their beliefs.
I am not quite sure whether we would succeed, should we go out at this time to the American public and seek directly its understanding and appreciation of our position. But I am sure that if we continue to contribute to the upbuilding of the national life those qualities of heart and mind which [27] are found in every true Catholic citizen, that if particularly from our universities men go forth who will loyally do their share in the development of the intellectual and moral life of our country, I am sure that the fog of intolerance which seems to be setting down upon our fair land will soon be dispelled before this glorious sun of understanding; that in the centuries to come this nation will be illumined and go forward to ever loftier heights, led on by the pure light which comes from truth joined with that love which Christ came to bring us here below, which He foretold would bind His brethren together, would be an unfailing sign to the whole world that men were truly Christian.
---
Footnote:
* From an Address delivered at the June, 1929 Commencement Exercises of the Cathedral High School, Indianapolis, Ind.
---
Source: Msgr. James H. Ryan, "The Religious School: An American Institution," The National Catholic Welfare Council Bulletin 11, no. 3 (Aug. 1929): 11, 27.
HISTORICALLY, FREEDOM OF education has always been a characteristic of our American polity. The first American schools were religious, and they continued so up to the middle of the last century.
In origin, at least, the secular school is not an American institution; it is an importation from Continental Europe, born of the compromises and ambitions of contending politicians.
Constitutionally, the religious school is as American as the secular school. If there is one point in American jurisprudence which is accepted by all, it is the principle that to the parent belongs the primary right to educate and to select the type of education he desires his children to have.
Legal decision after decision confirms that right. The Supreme Court itself, in the famous Oregon decision [i.e. Pierce vs. Society of Sisters of the Holy Names (1925) regarding an Oregon law requiring children to attend only public schools], once and forever settled that question of right. And in the pursuance of that right of American citizenship, if we elect to give at our own expense a religious education to our children, who can gainsay that right, who can accuse us of disloyalty to the Constitution, who can justly contend that we oppose one of the fundamental institutions of the country?
Since the beginning of this nation we have had religious schools; we have the constitutional right to conduct such schools; we would be traitors to our highest interests and to our profoundest beliefs in the need of religious training for the preservation of the best in American citizenship, were we to fail to maintain and support religious education.
THE reason is simple—religious education for us is not a purple patch added on to the ordinary curriculum. It is the very soul, the life-breath of all our training. It is as necessary to the preservation and development of Catholic life as is the air we breathe to the preservation of our natural life. To close our schools in the hope that our fellow-citizens would then come to understand that we do not oppose public education, would be a futile gesture; it would be to betray our faith in American justice, history, law; it would but add to the tremendous difficulties which every democracy must face in its continuous struggle for existence; it would be a denial of our very belief in the teaching of Christ which we profess to hold.
Fortunately, one need no longer defend, at least in educational circles, the religious school. There has come about a wonderful change in viewpoint in that regard in the last ten years. To an attitude of hostility there has succeeded an attitude of challenge, and I venture to think that it will be much more difficult for us to meet the latter than it was the former.
The religious school today is on trial before the bar of American education. And it will be judged in the only way that Americans know how to judge—by results. Its future will be determined not by attacks made upon it but rather by the type of men and women which the religious school produces. It is to them that we must turn, in the last analysis, for the justification of our schools.
IF the religious school continues to turn out, as it has done, strong, virile, intelligent, unusually upright men and women as citizens of this Republic, we need have little fear of those narrow partisans who go about poisoning the public conscience with the age-old cry of Catholic opposition to the public school.
The Catholic citizenship of this Republic can not [sic] rise above its source—and that source is our schools. If we are to be compelled, for any reason whatsoever, to continue to meet rancor, prejudice, hatred, and discrimination, let us meet them in the only way Christians can and should, and in the only way which will bring certain and complete victory. And what is that way? By concentrating our efforts toward the development of a Catholic body which, because of its understanding, intelligence, and virtue, will be irresistible. Knowledge can conquer ignorance; love, hatred; truth, prejudice; loyalty, distrust. And the great instrument in the production of these qualities in our men and women is the school. From elementary school to university let us make of these schools a great crucible from which shall come forth gold of the purest quality in the form of alert, sincere, educated men and women.
I WOULD particularly insist on the need of university trained men and women, since it is from them that leadership and all the accomplishments which we associate rightly with finely trained minds must come. The training of scholars may seem, at first view, no part of our Catholic duty. On second thought there is no one who can not understand that without general support the university can not function as it should, that it is to the interest of each individual, no matter how lowly his position may be, to assist in the training of that group of scholars who by their labors in the fields of science, philosophy, and religion will do more to dispel the dark clouds of ignorance and bigotry than a veritable army of men ready to lay down their lives for their beliefs.
I am not quite sure whether we would succeed, should we go out at this time to the American public and seek directly its understanding and appreciation of our position. But I am sure that if we continue to contribute to the upbuilding of the national life those qualities of heart and mind which [27] are found in every true Catholic citizen, that if particularly from our universities men go forth who will loyally do their share in the development of the intellectual and moral life of our country, I am sure that the fog of intolerance which seems to be setting down upon our fair land will soon be dispelled before this glorious sun of understanding; that in the centuries to come this nation will be illumined and go forward to ever loftier heights, led on by the pure light which comes from truth joined with that love which Christ came to bring us here below, which He foretold would bind His brethren together, would be an unfailing sign to the whole world that men were truly Christian.
---
Footnote:
* From an Address delivered at the June, 1929 Commencement Exercises of the Cathedral High School, Indianapolis, Ind.
---
Source: Msgr. James H. Ryan, "The Religious School: An American Institution," The National Catholic Welfare Council Bulletin 11, no. 3 (Aug. 1929): 11, 27.
The Home – Society's Fundamental Educational Agency (1929)
[6] "THE home is the fundamental educational agency in society. The first right to educate belongs to the parents. Catholic schools exist because Catholic parents are convinced that the only education which can insure a noble and happy life for their children is that which is rooted and founded in the religion of Jesus Christ. In the words of our Holy Father, Pius XI, 'The state has nothing to fear from education given by the Church and under its guidance; it is this education which has prepared modern civilization in all it has which is really good, superior, and lofty.'
"Catholic schools from kindergarten to university achieve their purpose only in the measure in which they reflect and inculcate a Catholic philosophy of life. The Catholic educator faces no greater responsibility than that of understanding the educational implications of Catholic philosophy and their application to every detail of organization, method, and administration.
"The curriculum of the American school suffers from overloading and lack of organization. Expediency has blinded us to ultimate principles and destroyed in us a sense of relative value. There is need of a sound determination of the fundamentals of education. Applicable to the present situation are these words of our Holy Father: 'We who have some personal experience of teaching and books often fear lest the danger foreseen by St. Augustine be lying in wait for our dear young people: necessaria non norunt, quia superflua didicerunt.' [Trans: they did not know the necessary things because they learned the superfluous.]
"As Catholic educators we need to take strict account of ourselves that we may determine to what extent the superfluous is usurping the field of the necessary in our programs of instruction."
---
Source: "The Home – Society's Fundamental Educational Agency: A Timely and Forceful Pronouncement by the National Catholic Educational Association," The National Catholic Welfare Council Bulletin 11, no. 3 (Aug. 1929): 6.
"Catholic schools from kindergarten to university achieve their purpose only in the measure in which they reflect and inculcate a Catholic philosophy of life. The Catholic educator faces no greater responsibility than that of understanding the educational implications of Catholic philosophy and their application to every detail of organization, method, and administration.
"The curriculum of the American school suffers from overloading and lack of organization. Expediency has blinded us to ultimate principles and destroyed in us a sense of relative value. There is need of a sound determination of the fundamentals of education. Applicable to the present situation are these words of our Holy Father: 'We who have some personal experience of teaching and books often fear lest the danger foreseen by St. Augustine be lying in wait for our dear young people: necessaria non norunt, quia superflua didicerunt.' [Trans: they did not know the necessary things because they learned the superfluous.]
"As Catholic educators we need to take strict account of ourselves that we may determine to what extent the superfluous is usurping the field of the necessary in our programs of instruction."
---
Source: "The Home – Society's Fundamental Educational Agency: A Timely and Forceful Pronouncement by the National Catholic Educational Association," The National Catholic Welfare Council Bulletin 11, no. 3 (Aug. 1929): 6.
How, When, and What to Play: A Guide for Catholic Organists (1934)
[543] INTRODUCTION
A musician called to offer the fruits of his talents to the service of God, either as a composer, as a choirmaster, or as an organist, in a Catholic Church should conform to the regulations established by the Catholic Church. Such rules, prescriptions, or regulations, are definite and precise.
In the old Law (Deut. XXVIII, 15) is the command of God saying: ". . . .if thou will not hear the voice of the Lord, thy God, to keep and to do all His commandments and ceremonies, which I command thee this day, all these curses shall come upon thee. Cursed shalt thou be in the city, cursed in the field. Cursed shall be thy barn, and cursed thy stores, etc."
And down, in more recent ages, we find Pius V, who orders us: ". . . .decantetur aut recitetur Missa juxta ritum, modum et norman quae per Missale traditur" ("The Mass shall be sung or said according to the rite, the way and the rule laid down in the Missal").
There are many other regulations, or ecclesiastical orders, to prove that no one has any right to presume the possibility of disregarding, with impunity, any regulation of which Our Mother the Church is a very jealous custodian. As soon as we know and feel truly convinced that the Church is the House of God, and we go there ONLY to pray and to worship our Creator and our Redeemer, we easily come to the natural conclusion that everything should be in accordance with the first aim and intention.
In the Introduction to the Motu Proprio, we read: "Nothing therefore ought to occur in tne Temple, which disturbs, or even merely diminishes, the piety and devotion of the Faithful. . . .and, above all, nothing which offends against the decorum and sanctity of the sacred offices, and which appears unworthy of the House of prayer and the Majesty of God."
Consequently all the ceremonies and the singing and playing is to be done in the way that the Church prescribes, abhorring everything that would be even a smallest profanation of that very House of God.
The Duties of The Organist At A Low Mass
In almost all the Catholic Churches in this Country, the organist is also the Choirmaster (or director of the Choir); therefore what is said here of the one, is understood also for the other. A person who occupies a place of responsibility in society must know the duties of his state.
A priest, a doctor, a lawyer, a justice or any magistrate etc. has to know the duties of his particular position. "Whoever asserts that the accepted and approved Rites of the Catholic Church can be ignored or omitted at pleasure, or changed by any Pastor of the Church, let him be an anathema." (Councel [sic] of Trent, 7th S. Can. 13). Consequently, as the Catholic organist occupies a very important place in the service of the House of God he has a duty to learn and to know and to practice [emphasis original] what concerns him, according to his position. He must learn "how to appreciate and love our holy Liturgy". The organist, besides knowing HOW to play well his instrument, must also know especially WHEN to play it; and here the writer will try to help him, by consulting together the three most important official Sources of the Latin Liturgy, namely the Coeremoniale Episcoporum (Ceremonial of the Bishops), the Council of Trent, and the precious Motu proprio of Pius X. It would be well that every Catholic organist and choirmaster should have and peruse the above mentioned Motu proprio, to which that holy Pope commanded that "the force of Law be given", and to the same He imposed a "scrupulous observance on all". And now, let us see at last when the organ may be played at a low Mass.
We may say that in general, it is allowed, or optional, to play the organ at every extraliturgical [sic] service, an organist may start to play a few minutes before the Celebrant goes [544] to the altar for a low Mass*; on all Sundays and Festivals on which the people abstain from servile work; except the Sundays of Advent and Lent; among these are not included the Sundays of Advent and Lent, except the Sunday Gaudette [sic] and Laetare, i.e. the 3rd Sunday of Advent and the 4th of Lent". We may add that the organ, without singing, may play on the Feasts and Ferias in Advent and Lent which are celebrated solemnly by the Church: it is also understood that the organ (without singing) is not allowed in the Masses of the Dead. We said it is optional to play the organ during all the time of a low Mass, loud or soft; in fact if the Ceremonial of the Bishops says that "ad elevationem Sanctissimi Sacramenti pulsatur organum graviori et dulciori sono, during the elevation the organ plays in a grave and sweet way" (XXVIII, 9), it is clear enough that it can play also during the rest of the time of the Mass; but an organist who understands (as he ought to) the various parts of Holy Mass, knows HOW and WHEN to play loud, or soft, or moderately; and, to give an idea, he can play a little louder before the Mass, during the reading of the Gospel, and after the Mass, continuing (if he likes) until a few minutes after the Celebrant has gone to the Sacristy. But let me end this Chapter with the quotation of some good words of Fr. J. Kelly: "As people attend Mass to praise God in supreme act of worship, the position of the organist being a sacred one he should contribute to this praise by such music as will assist the people in their devotions; the possession of technical ability does not imply the possession of skill in playing a Catholic liturgical service." And much more forcible are these words of the Caerem. Ep.: "Cavendum est ne sonus organi sit lascivus aut impurus" (XXVIII, 11), ("Endeavor that the playing of the organ be not lascivious or obscene".) Consequently not all the piano or concert-music is good for the organ, in Church services.
As far as here, the above rules concern only low Mass, when there is no singing at all. Now let us see what the organist (or choirmaster) has to know and to do at the low Mass, when there is singing.
(To be continued.)
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Footnotes:
* This can be done "in omnibus Dominicis et omnibus festis per annum occurrentibus, in quibus populi a servilibus operibus abstinere solent. Inter eas non connumeratur Dominicae Adventus et Quadragesimae except a Dominica tertia Adventus quae dicitur Gaudete in Domino et quarta Quadragesimae, quae dicitur Laetare, Jerusalem, et nisi celebratur pro Defunctis" (Caerem. Episc. XXVIII. 1-2).
Source: Giuseppe Villani, "'How, When and What to Play': A Guide for Catholic Organists," The Caecilia 60, no. 11 (Dec. 1934): 543–544.
A musician called to offer the fruits of his talents to the service of God, either as a composer, as a choirmaster, or as an organist, in a Catholic Church should conform to the regulations established by the Catholic Church. Such rules, prescriptions, or regulations, are definite and precise.
In the old Law (Deut. XXVIII, 15) is the command of God saying: ". . . .if thou will not hear the voice of the Lord, thy God, to keep and to do all His commandments and ceremonies, which I command thee this day, all these curses shall come upon thee. Cursed shalt thou be in the city, cursed in the field. Cursed shall be thy barn, and cursed thy stores, etc."
And down, in more recent ages, we find Pius V, who orders us: ". . . .decantetur aut recitetur Missa juxta ritum, modum et norman quae per Missale traditur" ("The Mass shall be sung or said according to the rite, the way and the rule laid down in the Missal").
There are many other regulations, or ecclesiastical orders, to prove that no one has any right to presume the possibility of disregarding, with impunity, any regulation of which Our Mother the Church is a very jealous custodian. As soon as we know and feel truly convinced that the Church is the House of God, and we go there ONLY to pray and to worship our Creator and our Redeemer, we easily come to the natural conclusion that everything should be in accordance with the first aim and intention.
In the Introduction to the Motu Proprio, we read: "Nothing therefore ought to occur in tne Temple, which disturbs, or even merely diminishes, the piety and devotion of the Faithful. . . .and, above all, nothing which offends against the decorum and sanctity of the sacred offices, and which appears unworthy of the House of prayer and the Majesty of God."
Consequently all the ceremonies and the singing and playing is to be done in the way that the Church prescribes, abhorring everything that would be even a smallest profanation of that very House of God.
The Duties of The Organist At A Low Mass
In almost all the Catholic Churches in this Country, the organist is also the Choirmaster (or director of the Choir); therefore what is said here of the one, is understood also for the other. A person who occupies a place of responsibility in society must know the duties of his state.
A priest, a doctor, a lawyer, a justice or any magistrate etc. has to know the duties of his particular position. "Whoever asserts that the accepted and approved Rites of the Catholic Church can be ignored or omitted at pleasure, or changed by any Pastor of the Church, let him be an anathema." (Councel [sic] of Trent, 7th S. Can. 13). Consequently, as the Catholic organist occupies a very important place in the service of the House of God he has a duty to learn and to know and to practice [emphasis original] what concerns him, according to his position. He must learn "how to appreciate and love our holy Liturgy". The organist, besides knowing HOW to play well his instrument, must also know especially WHEN to play it; and here the writer will try to help him, by consulting together the three most important official Sources of the Latin Liturgy, namely the Coeremoniale Episcoporum (Ceremonial of the Bishops), the Council of Trent, and the precious Motu proprio of Pius X. It would be well that every Catholic organist and choirmaster should have and peruse the above mentioned Motu proprio, to which that holy Pope commanded that "the force of Law be given", and to the same He imposed a "scrupulous observance on all". And now, let us see at last when the organ may be played at a low Mass.
We may say that in general, it is allowed, or optional, to play the organ at every extraliturgical [sic] service, an organist may start to play a few minutes before the Celebrant goes [544] to the altar for a low Mass*; on all Sundays and Festivals on which the people abstain from servile work; except the Sundays of Advent and Lent; among these are not included the Sundays of Advent and Lent, except the Sunday Gaudette [sic] and Laetare, i.e. the 3rd Sunday of Advent and the 4th of Lent". We may add that the organ, without singing, may play on the Feasts and Ferias in Advent and Lent which are celebrated solemnly by the Church: it is also understood that the organ (without singing) is not allowed in the Masses of the Dead. We said it is optional to play the organ during all the time of a low Mass, loud or soft; in fact if the Ceremonial of the Bishops says that "ad elevationem Sanctissimi Sacramenti pulsatur organum graviori et dulciori sono, during the elevation the organ plays in a grave and sweet way" (XXVIII, 9), it is clear enough that it can play also during the rest of the time of the Mass; but an organist who understands (as he ought to) the various parts of Holy Mass, knows HOW and WHEN to play loud, or soft, or moderately; and, to give an idea, he can play a little louder before the Mass, during the reading of the Gospel, and after the Mass, continuing (if he likes) until a few minutes after the Celebrant has gone to the Sacristy. But let me end this Chapter with the quotation of some good words of Fr. J. Kelly: "As people attend Mass to praise God in supreme act of worship, the position of the organist being a sacred one he should contribute to this praise by such music as will assist the people in their devotions; the possession of technical ability does not imply the possession of skill in playing a Catholic liturgical service." And much more forcible are these words of the Caerem. Ep.: "Cavendum est ne sonus organi sit lascivus aut impurus" (XXVIII, 11), ("Endeavor that the playing of the organ be not lascivious or obscene".) Consequently not all the piano or concert-music is good for the organ, in Church services.
As far as here, the above rules concern only low Mass, when there is no singing at all. Now let us see what the organist (or choirmaster) has to know and to do at the low Mass, when there is singing.
(To be continued.)
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Footnotes:
* This can be done "in omnibus Dominicis et omnibus festis per annum occurrentibus, in quibus populi a servilibus operibus abstinere solent. Inter eas non connumeratur Dominicae Adventus et Quadragesimae except a Dominica tertia Adventus quae dicitur Gaudete in Domino et quarta Quadragesimae, quae dicitur Laetare, Jerusalem, et nisi celebratur pro Defunctis" (Caerem. Episc. XXVIII. 1-2).
Source: Giuseppe Villani, "'How, When and What to Play': A Guide for Catholic Organists," The Caecilia 60, no. 11 (Dec. 1934): 543–544.
Monday, November 11, 2019
The Necessary Subordination of Educational Theories to Sound Sociology (1922)
[385] Is man a sociable, or a social being? Perhaps there are professed sociologists to whom the question has never occurred. The terms seem almost identical. Nevertheless the ideas behind them differ with all the difference that lies between Rousseau's fable of man everywhere in chains, and the reality of man free in his necessary social relations; that distinguishes the figment of the social contract from society, the spontaneous outcome of human nature; that divides the artificial State created by the Revolution from the State developing naturally under Christian influences; that marks off the State using the individual as its tool from the State serving the individual's perfection. To say that man is sociable is to say that essentially he is indifferent to the solitary life or the social; that if he chooses the latter he docs so merely for its advantages to buy which he pays, as price, some of his individual rights. In a word, it is to affirm the social contract with all its consequences as seen in the modern State. On the other hand to say that man is social is to say that his very nature demands life in society; that society began simultaneously with the race; that it is morally impossible for men to live permanently in the same place unassociated; that the savage state with its pretended individual rights never existed; that the social contract is a myth, invented to promote the Revolution and continued because it falls in so neatly with that other baseless invention, evolution. United they give the modern theory of the State, with every logical conclusion deduced from it.
Let us see one very important conclusion. Were man merely sociable and actual social union a free contract, the individual could have no natural antecedent rights against society, nor [386] society any necessary natural obligation towards the individual. Every subsequent social right or obligation would arise from the contract and be confined to its stipulations. The price once paid in individual rights would have no further exchangeable value. Ameliorations never dreamed of at the making of the contract would have to be paid for with new surrenders, in exacting which society would be found a creditor hard as flint. Describing the day of mourning over Jerusalem, purchased yearly by the Jews from their Roman conquerors, St. Jerome tells us how, notwithstanding the great price already received and the sight of cheeks wet with tears that might well have moved to pity, the callous soldiery compelled the mourners begging a little more time for sorrow, to open their purses afresh and pay the price of further weeping. A society pretending to originate in a social contract would refuse to its members the freedom granted to the conquered. These were free to protract their weeping or not. Only when they resolved to renew their tears had they to pay the price. A society according to Rousseau's theory would impose its dubious benefits on the very individuals Rousseau is supposed to have freed, and then compel them to pay for the imposition.
On the other hand, to say that man is social is to say that society is so necessary that without it the normal life in the exercise of his natural faculties would be impossible. It is to assert his antecedent right to all that society can give him. It is to say that society is naturally no loose association of individuals, the artificial result of a voluntary contract, but a closely compacted organization of subordinate, incomplete societies, the result of man's constant need of cooperation, of his constant impulse towards association with his fellows, into one complete, supreme society, the State. Let us illustrate. In a society, even the most primitive, A would need the cooperation of B for clothing, of C for food, of D for any journey he might make, of E and F for shelter. In the same way B, C, D, E, F, would need cooperation reaching out to G, H, I, J, etc. Here we discern the rudiments of organization. In its development A and B could no longer between them provide material and make it up into clothes, such as the more perfect social life requires. [387] Hence would arise the various trades, and in the same way the various professions, with the same natural tendency in each association drawing the members into union for cooperation and mutual support. So in fact each became an inchoate society developing with the community in which it originated; and as villages became cities and their inhabitants citizens, these found themselves in their new life, not mere individuals, but members of their pre-existing associations, which thus became the elements immediately constituting the larger unit, as this was the immediate element of the supreme society. Nowhere did the individual stand alone. Everywhere he had his fellows with the immediate social superior to be the guardian of his liberty, his protection against wrong.
Of this society so perfect in its unity, so complex in its organization, the modern evolutionary sociologist knows little or nothing. It was never found but under the shadow of the cross in that Christian civilization which religion effected in the barbarian conquerors of Europe, and was found in its perfection only in the ages of faith. Why this was so we cannot examine here. Suffice it to note that, as the loosely organized despotism, characteristic of idolatry and Mohammedanism, with its tyrant, lord of all, and its incoherent multitude at his absolute disposal, was the reproduction on earth of the kingdom of Satan, the typical tyrant defying all order, trampling on every right; so in the compact, highly organized Christian society was seen the analogue of that abode of perfect order arising from the perfect blending of mutual rights and duties through the long, closely linked order of superior and inferior, of which the crown is Christ the King, the perfect custodian and vindicator of obligation and right.
But in the revolutionary State, whether it be empire, kingdom, republic, or social anarchy, the form is immaterial, is always found the approximation to the old barbarous despotism, the disintegration of the Christian State. There is no medium between the two. The prevalence of the former implies the the destruction of the latter. According to the revolutionary theory, man, freed from his chains, stands in a regenerated society an individual of the sovereign people, with neither patron, [388] nor lord, nor social class to mar his dignity, or to come between him and his servant delegated to public authority. How different the actual fact! Stripped of the protection and support of his fellows, powerless to withstand the force working remorselessly to make him a simple unit expendable by the State functioning towards its revolutionary ideal, man would stand alone were he not saved from utter solitariness by the inextinguishable workings of his social nature impelling him to reach out to every helping hand that offers. Such, despite its intensely monarchical exterior, was the Prussian system, bureaucratic and impersonal to the last degree. Such was never the system of the United States. Resting on the inalienable rights of man our Constitution makes the humblest citizen's personal liberty its characteristic note.
There is no essential reason why the colonies going out from the old nations after the sixteenth century should not have carried with them this natural society. It is indifferent to every form of government; it is adaptable to all. In England it was one kind of monarchy; in France, another. It had a special organization in the Holy Roman Empire. We find it democratic in Florence and other Italian cities, while in Venice it was oligarchic. It could be feudal in Teutonic lands; in others founded on commerce. It could have lived on American soil; nay more, no diligence will reveal, nor ingenuity invent a system more conducive to the American ideal, personal liberty under just government. That it did not cross the seas was accidental, due to this, that before general emigration from Europe had begun, the corruption of the Renaissance, the inflowing of gold from the Indies, the Protestant Reformation had sapped the foundations of the old order. Still, that it is the perfect natural order is clear from the instinct leading men inevitably to supply for the old natural subordinate societies, with artificial associations for mutual support and defense.
We may now put some conclusions which shall be the principles of our specific argument.
I. Since the permanence of a composite body depends on the permanence of its elements both in themselves and in their natural relations; and since society must by nature be as lasting [389] as possible, every supreme society demands the permanence of its subordinate societies, its constituent elements.
II. This permanence of the subordinate society implies necessarily stability in its members. Hence the stability of social man in his social surroundings, in other words, a permanent diversity of individuals in their respective social orders, is a necessary consequence of man's social nature.
III. From this it follows as regards each social order, that its members, if taken distributively, may each rise to a higher station; taken collectively they will, as a rule remain in that in which they are born.
These are natural principles, depending on no particular form of society. Rather society is peaceful and stable, or confused and mutable, according as they are allowed or refused their efficacy. They are therefore especially applicable in the matter of education, so potent to correct false sociology or to diffuse it. Wherefore we conclude justly that a system of universal education which ignores the natural distinctions in social order is a capital error. To attempt a system that will suit everybody, whatever his station in life, is to offer what will suit none. To say that the democratic ideal demands such a system, is to betray an imperfect concept of that ideal. It is easy to say that it requires perfect equality among citizens and no privilege: to define the meaning of this exactly is more difficult. The most authoritative expression of the democratic ideal, the Declaration of Independence, founds it on the primitive fact that all men are created free and equal, with inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The word created implies an essential equality in natural rights, not only not precluding acquired rights with the consequent accidental inequality of their subjects, but actually supporting them as their very foundation. Man is created a social being. Wherefore all find themselves equally members of society, with an equal right to be free from all hindrance in the perfecting of themselves as social individuals. For this a necessary means, inasmuch as they are social, is the procuring of the common good under the direction of competent authority. As long as life lasts that equality and freedom remains. The respecting of them in others is no small share of [390] each individual's action for the common good. Let none say that self-perfection and common action for the common good, are mutually repugnant, calling for accommodation based on mutual sacrifice. This notion, utterly false, is one of the immediate conclusions of the social contract, and one of its most noxious. Grasp the fundamental truth that man is by nature a social being, and you will see inevitably that he cannot perfect himself individually without perfecting himself in social action. To perfect oneself, to combine with others for the common good, in this to obey authority, are not repugnant but concordant. They work together; and in their perfect coordination is the perfection of social freedom, the only liberty of a being essentially social. Each member of society exists in his individual character and faculties with his essential right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Each as a social being recognizes and respects what others accomplish in virtue of their individual gifts of character and faculty. In these two is evident the foundation of consequent inequalities. These are so natural that when the revolution destroys legitimate society with its natural social distinctions, enduring because founded in right, it immediately sets up in its lawless society artificial distinctions, precarious because without title, to be maintained by violence.
But there is the cry: "No privilege." What is privilege? It is an exemption of an individual from common order and obligation. Now nothing is clearer than that by no acquisition of private and personal rights can a social being generate a title against common order and obligation. This can come from the ordainer only of that common order, namely, public authority. On the other hand, that the duties and relations of citizens should follow the nature of things and conform to actual social conditions, calls for neither exemption nor concession, nor even formal recognition. It is then utterly foreign to the true notion of privilege.
It may be asked, whether a universal system in the primary and grammar grades be impossible. I would not say impossible. Reading, writing, arithmetic, are necessary for everyone, whatever his social condition be. But I will say that under existing conditions it can be proved impracticable. As we shall see in [391] the course of this paper, those grades, being the preparation of the higher, are infected with the errors prevailing in these. However, as this is but indirect, there is every reason to believe that the correction of methods in the high school would eliminate the errors in the grades below. Let us then begin with something born of a double error, of a wrong idea of what complete education is, and of the obligation of the State to provide it, namely, vocational training. For this I can find no other foundation than the assumption that a complete educational system must provide every pupil with the opportunity of rising above his native condition, with the consequence that the State must discharge the obligation. This is in flat contradiction to the natural principle we have established, that mankind taken collectively tends to remain in the station to which it is born, and that those who rise are the exceptions. These through their talent and character will ascend, and in this they must be helped. But from vocational training, with all it implies of a deficient foundation, they will gain little. Indeed that training if examined carefully, will be found to be an occasion of sinking rather than of rising. To make the son of a skillful mechanic or of a thrifty farmer, a barely competent engineer, a mediocre journalist, a lawyer rarely briefed, or a doctor with scanty practice, is not social progress. On the other hand, if he is to remain in his native condition, he will learn his trade at home far better than in any school. The vocational school, then, commits the capital error of basing its work on the needs of the few, which it treats as if they were those of the many.
We said that vocational schools imply deficient fundamental training. The lower grades, which through exaggerated notions of the importance of observation and classification, have become less intellectual in their work, are now hampered with the practical. Pupils are encouraged by their surroundings and their prospects to make little of things purely mental, and to resist attempts to retain them within the strict circle of the grammar school. Thus, while all recognize the gravest national peril in the widespread tendency to abandon the land and other callings, laborious indeed, but neither unprofitable nor dishonorable, for what, in so many cases turns out to be some petty employment; [392] and while many a plan is proposed to mitigate it; the schools, resting on a false social theory and an idea no less false of democratic equality, ignoring also the laws of man's social nature, encourage it. We do not look for the stoppage of the movement from the farm and the trade to the desk. Our social, commercial, economic conditions would make that hope vain. But to moderate it is possible; and the moderating of it is a function of education. What then, is to be thought of a system encouraging the evil, almost forcing it upon our young people?
Let us pass from the schools to find ourselves in the university. On all sides magnificent buildings, commodious lecture halls, ample libraries and museums, with a host of professors and instructors, all at the public expense. Young people are there by the thousand. It is the climax of the false conclusion that, as every boy and girl taken distributively, has the right to rise above his or her native condition, the opportunity of doing so must be provided for all collectively. Hence to all the State offers a university education so complex and complete that from its courses may be had the proximate preparation for any career. Now if there be anything confined by its nature to a class and to a very small class at that, it is a university education. And here let me digress to meet a prejudice that may be growing in your minds. When I say a class, I do not mean the aristocracy, as found elsewhere. So far am I from this that I hold as a calamity the way we have fallen into, of looking to the English universities as models. To this is due much of the excessive sport that has made its way into our universities to the detriment of study, first into the private foundations, as Harvard and Yale, and then into the public institutions. It is bad enough to have young people using the university as a place of social enjoyment and physical prowess, when they do so at their own cost; it is infinitely worse when they thus divert from its legitimate end an institution furnished for them so lavishly at the public expense. But to resume, the function of a university is to provide general culture and special science for those who, engaging in their particular vocations, will promote the amelioration, progress and perfection of society. Such, for many reasons, must be relatively few. Now only are few capable of the task, but from the social [393] point of view few are needed for it. It is of the essence of leadership that the leaders cannot be many. The university, then, is not a place of resort for young people, unequal to such an education, to idle away in crowds a great part of their adolescence, during which they should he gaining in the school of experience habits of industry and thrift; to live at the expense of others, when, according to every natural social law they should be supporting themselves; and in the end to get a degree representing the minimum result of their long course in school and college paid for by the people. The thought of becoming something better than their fathers pushes boys and girls from the high school into the university unfit for university work. Over the ideals of professors mere numbers must prevail, and standards are lowered. The complaint is universal. Standardization, more spending of public money, additional qualifications in teachers of high school and grammar grades, degrees of various kinds in those of the undergraduate departments of colleges and universities, these, and other remedies are proposed. But there is no remedy for an evil that comes from the violation of the essential laws of man's social nature, other than a return to the observance of those laws.
The demand beginning to be heard from the universities for a restriction in the number of students, the acknowledgment now from one now from another, that as a teaching agent the small college has an efficiency all its own, are signs that some are beginning to comprehend in general the real cause of their trouble. But as long as the present theory lasts, and as long as the climax of the system built on it is found in the university, this cannot close its doors to high school graduates, the product of the system, however numerous and however imperfectly grounded. Efficacious reform must begin with the recognition of the utter falseness of the prevailing theory; must be continued by laying a safe foundation in the understanding of the nature of social man and of its necessary consequences in the development of all society; must be perfected by adapting all education to those necessary consequences.
For what is the end of education? We have shown from man's social nature that it is not to lift up our children in the [394] social scale, nor even to offer them collectively the opportunity of rising. It must be therefore to prepare them to discharge, as they should, the duties of the station to which they are born. The fleeing from this is for the multitude, as they learn too late, a fleeing to graver cares, to the losing of opportunity instead of to the gaining of it on a larger scale, and to disappointed hopes; while for the State it is the cause of serious disorder coming from the universal habit it generates of discontent and unrest. Our social infirmities are only too apparent: among the remedies devised is one much insisted on: — Education for citizenship. If this be taken, as seems to be the case, in the sense that pupils must leave the school with definite views on social reforms, that is, as a rule, with the personal ideas of a very fallible master, or those of the organization for social uplift prevailing in their part of the country, and a strong sense of the share they should take in putting such reform into execution, the dullest must see that this is nothing else than to put schools as instruments of propaganda into the hands of the huge organizations which daily usurp more and more the functions of government, dictating to executives, legislatures, judges, juries, the course to follow.
More than one case can be shown of action in obedience to this lawless moral forced which those charged with authority, had they been free, would have rejected as unprofitable and even unjust; and in the Convention of the Bar Association of the United States two years ago, this was dwelt upon as one of the gravest dangers threatening the nation. Such education for citizenship would be nothing else than vocational training assuming a most dangerous form. The only other is that which fits the individual morally and intellectually, to live honorably, industriously, soberly where his lot is cast; doing justice himself, and in common with his fellows, exacting it from others; paying authority rightful obedience, and requiring from it the protection which is his due. In a word, it is to give that moral and mental training which our Christian schools have given in the past, are giving now, and will always give, if they follow faithfully their own system, not a theory, but fundamental truth by long experience reduced to practice.
[395] Leaving aside the moral training, as not immediately connected with our present argument, we say that education taken in its perfect term has for its object, scholarship; and this we take, not in the contracted sense it has acquired in these days of specialization, but for what it really is, a broad and exact culture. Now if this be so, — and it must be so, if education is not to be strictly vocational, but rather a broad foundation on which all callings in life can rest, each in its proper place — no more telling proof of the incompetence of the present system can be brought than the steady decline of scholarship in the higher education, as of exactness and thoroughness in the secondary and primary, during the latter years of the nineteenth century and these early years of the twentieth. There has been no stinting of money. It has been lavished on universities, colleges and schools. Yet as endowments and expenditure grew what was looked for from them decreased. "The Americans are bright men," was the testimony to the Rhodes scholars of a delegation from Oxford to visit American universities, "they have no little information, but thoroughness and exactness are lacking." That scholarship is failing we must confess, if we are able to understand that the seats vacated by the scholars of the earlier nineteenth century remain unfilled. How much scholarship means, we can judge from our loss. A leading member of the Bar Association of the United States, discussing existing political and constitutional conditions, pointed out that the Bench and Bar of earlier days were noteworthy for men, not only lawyers, but also statesmen, and did not hesitate to assert that in the present crisis, for we are really at a crisis of the Constitution, there is an absolute need of such men to save it. According to the ordinary law such men are the fruit of scholarship. Though of our statesmen, jurists, administrators, some were heaven-born, nevertheless even in these how much do we find of scholarship indirectly acquired, how little did they owe to mere technical training. Take but one example in but one man, the Gettysburg address of Abraham Lincoln. Direct scholarship he had none. Still there is a something about those two hundred words or so which all must perceive and the initiated can recognize as the skill of expression and exactness in word that only scholarship can give, in him the result of a [396] careful study the technically trained would view as purposeless, that of the writings, simply as writings, of those who had enjoyed what to him was denied, the liberal education of the scholar.
Though this culture in its fullness is the special work of the university, its foundation and no little of its development belongs to the purely educational secondary school, that aims at an adequate general discipline of the mind, without any further design than to send out young people, each with a training perfect in its degree, that fits them, as did their liberal culture the Athenians of Pericles' day, to enter into commerce or service, civil or military, or to continue in the university their preparation for the professions, or to make it their life career, with an easy versatility and perfect self-possession, the sign of one without fear of finding himself unequal to his undertaking.
Such schools imply as a necessary consequence others widely different for those to whom opportunity opens not the higher culture or whom inclination or natural gifts do not draw to it. In other words, they imply a system of education fitting in with the conditions arising from man's social nature, rather than one that, as far as possible, would abolish them. Sometimes indeed circumstances compel a material union of schools. From the Irish hedge-school and the Scottish village school have come scholars we should seek in vain from the American school to-day. But it was because the master, himself not without scholarship, seeing in this one or in that possibilities of greater things, gave him ungrudgingly a training other than that received by his less capable companions, a training in the old time-honored curriculum, Latin, Greek, Euclid, algebra; not one of them, the last excepted to a certain degree, of practical value in the eyes of the modern teacher, yet all combining wonderfully to effect what Cicero calls the subactio of the mind; that laborious deep ploughing which, if it be not culture itself, is in the intellect, as in the field, a condition without which there will be no real fruit of culture. But when the larger scale is reached, what the master did of his own initiative, must be done by system.
The answer is heard, of course, that the State considers the universal good, and cannot descend to minute particulars. But this cannot mean that therefore it has the right to impose a system [397] unnatural and therefore harmful to the universal good. Rather is it a confession that education is too complex an affair to be a function of the general government, and must be left to those whom nature designates as its own agents to bring it to successful issue. Thus what has been demonstrated again and again from parental and religious right, is proved anew from the very nature of man.
All this confirms me in the advice I gave last year. Be accommodating in non-essentials. Conciliate the authorities in boards and universities. But hold fast to our traditional methods founded on truth and exemplifying all I have said far better than I can say it. I see two rays of hope promising a better day. One is that the national intelligence is beginning to be conscious of the inroads upon the Constitution already made by bureaucratic methods, and measures imposed lawlessly by certain associations upon Congress and State legislatures. The other is, that a system which contradicts human nature cannot stand. Only an hour ago I read a complaint from a leader in the world of State education that only a comparatively small percentage of those of student age avail themselves of the opportunities offered them. It may be that Americans will prefer bureaucratic tyranny to constitutional liberty, and consent to have forced upon them what nature abhors. If so, then your career is ended. But you and I think better of American people. Lastly your position in the matter is much better than that of the colleges for men. You have a net-work [sic] of academies and parish schools all over the country that must give pause to any attack. The colleges stand isolated and alone. Their pupils could be taken up into existing institutions: yours would need new institutions to be provided. This is your safeguard and it is a real one.
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Source: Fr. Henry Woods, S.J., "The Necessary Subordination of Educational Theories to Sound Sociology," The Catholic Educational Association Bulletin 19, no. 1 (Nov. 1922): 385–397.
Let us see one very important conclusion. Were man merely sociable and actual social union a free contract, the individual could have no natural antecedent rights against society, nor [386] society any necessary natural obligation towards the individual. Every subsequent social right or obligation would arise from the contract and be confined to its stipulations. The price once paid in individual rights would have no further exchangeable value. Ameliorations never dreamed of at the making of the contract would have to be paid for with new surrenders, in exacting which society would be found a creditor hard as flint. Describing the day of mourning over Jerusalem, purchased yearly by the Jews from their Roman conquerors, St. Jerome tells us how, notwithstanding the great price already received and the sight of cheeks wet with tears that might well have moved to pity, the callous soldiery compelled the mourners begging a little more time for sorrow, to open their purses afresh and pay the price of further weeping. A society pretending to originate in a social contract would refuse to its members the freedom granted to the conquered. These were free to protract their weeping or not. Only when they resolved to renew their tears had they to pay the price. A society according to Rousseau's theory would impose its dubious benefits on the very individuals Rousseau is supposed to have freed, and then compel them to pay for the imposition.
On the other hand, to say that man is social is to say that society is so necessary that without it the normal life in the exercise of his natural faculties would be impossible. It is to assert his antecedent right to all that society can give him. It is to say that society is naturally no loose association of individuals, the artificial result of a voluntary contract, but a closely compacted organization of subordinate, incomplete societies, the result of man's constant need of cooperation, of his constant impulse towards association with his fellows, into one complete, supreme society, the State. Let us illustrate. In a society, even the most primitive, A would need the cooperation of B for clothing, of C for food, of D for any journey he might make, of E and F for shelter. In the same way B, C, D, E, F, would need cooperation reaching out to G, H, I, J, etc. Here we discern the rudiments of organization. In its development A and B could no longer between them provide material and make it up into clothes, such as the more perfect social life requires. [387] Hence would arise the various trades, and in the same way the various professions, with the same natural tendency in each association drawing the members into union for cooperation and mutual support. So in fact each became an inchoate society developing with the community in which it originated; and as villages became cities and their inhabitants citizens, these found themselves in their new life, not mere individuals, but members of their pre-existing associations, which thus became the elements immediately constituting the larger unit, as this was the immediate element of the supreme society. Nowhere did the individual stand alone. Everywhere he had his fellows with the immediate social superior to be the guardian of his liberty, his protection against wrong.
Of this society so perfect in its unity, so complex in its organization, the modern evolutionary sociologist knows little or nothing. It was never found but under the shadow of the cross in that Christian civilization which religion effected in the barbarian conquerors of Europe, and was found in its perfection only in the ages of faith. Why this was so we cannot examine here. Suffice it to note that, as the loosely organized despotism, characteristic of idolatry and Mohammedanism, with its tyrant, lord of all, and its incoherent multitude at his absolute disposal, was the reproduction on earth of the kingdom of Satan, the typical tyrant defying all order, trampling on every right; so in the compact, highly organized Christian society was seen the analogue of that abode of perfect order arising from the perfect blending of mutual rights and duties through the long, closely linked order of superior and inferior, of which the crown is Christ the King, the perfect custodian and vindicator of obligation and right.
But in the revolutionary State, whether it be empire, kingdom, republic, or social anarchy, the form is immaterial, is always found the approximation to the old barbarous despotism, the disintegration of the Christian State. There is no medium between the two. The prevalence of the former implies the the destruction of the latter. According to the revolutionary theory, man, freed from his chains, stands in a regenerated society an individual of the sovereign people, with neither patron, [388] nor lord, nor social class to mar his dignity, or to come between him and his servant delegated to public authority. How different the actual fact! Stripped of the protection and support of his fellows, powerless to withstand the force working remorselessly to make him a simple unit expendable by the State functioning towards its revolutionary ideal, man would stand alone were he not saved from utter solitariness by the inextinguishable workings of his social nature impelling him to reach out to every helping hand that offers. Such, despite its intensely monarchical exterior, was the Prussian system, bureaucratic and impersonal to the last degree. Such was never the system of the United States. Resting on the inalienable rights of man our Constitution makes the humblest citizen's personal liberty its characteristic note.
There is no essential reason why the colonies going out from the old nations after the sixteenth century should not have carried with them this natural society. It is indifferent to every form of government; it is adaptable to all. In England it was one kind of monarchy; in France, another. It had a special organization in the Holy Roman Empire. We find it democratic in Florence and other Italian cities, while in Venice it was oligarchic. It could be feudal in Teutonic lands; in others founded on commerce. It could have lived on American soil; nay more, no diligence will reveal, nor ingenuity invent a system more conducive to the American ideal, personal liberty under just government. That it did not cross the seas was accidental, due to this, that before general emigration from Europe had begun, the corruption of the Renaissance, the inflowing of gold from the Indies, the Protestant Reformation had sapped the foundations of the old order. Still, that it is the perfect natural order is clear from the instinct leading men inevitably to supply for the old natural subordinate societies, with artificial associations for mutual support and defense.
We may now put some conclusions which shall be the principles of our specific argument.
I. Since the permanence of a composite body depends on the permanence of its elements both in themselves and in their natural relations; and since society must by nature be as lasting [389] as possible, every supreme society demands the permanence of its subordinate societies, its constituent elements.
II. This permanence of the subordinate society implies necessarily stability in its members. Hence the stability of social man in his social surroundings, in other words, a permanent diversity of individuals in their respective social orders, is a necessary consequence of man's social nature.
III. From this it follows as regards each social order, that its members, if taken distributively, may each rise to a higher station; taken collectively they will, as a rule remain in that in which they are born.
These are natural principles, depending on no particular form of society. Rather society is peaceful and stable, or confused and mutable, according as they are allowed or refused their efficacy. They are therefore especially applicable in the matter of education, so potent to correct false sociology or to diffuse it. Wherefore we conclude justly that a system of universal education which ignores the natural distinctions in social order is a capital error. To attempt a system that will suit everybody, whatever his station in life, is to offer what will suit none. To say that the democratic ideal demands such a system, is to betray an imperfect concept of that ideal. It is easy to say that it requires perfect equality among citizens and no privilege: to define the meaning of this exactly is more difficult. The most authoritative expression of the democratic ideal, the Declaration of Independence, founds it on the primitive fact that all men are created free and equal, with inalienable rights to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. The word created implies an essential equality in natural rights, not only not precluding acquired rights with the consequent accidental inequality of their subjects, but actually supporting them as their very foundation. Man is created a social being. Wherefore all find themselves equally members of society, with an equal right to be free from all hindrance in the perfecting of themselves as social individuals. For this a necessary means, inasmuch as they are social, is the procuring of the common good under the direction of competent authority. As long as life lasts that equality and freedom remains. The respecting of them in others is no small share of [390] each individual's action for the common good. Let none say that self-perfection and common action for the common good, are mutually repugnant, calling for accommodation based on mutual sacrifice. This notion, utterly false, is one of the immediate conclusions of the social contract, and one of its most noxious. Grasp the fundamental truth that man is by nature a social being, and you will see inevitably that he cannot perfect himself individually without perfecting himself in social action. To perfect oneself, to combine with others for the common good, in this to obey authority, are not repugnant but concordant. They work together; and in their perfect coordination is the perfection of social freedom, the only liberty of a being essentially social. Each member of society exists in his individual character and faculties with his essential right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Each as a social being recognizes and respects what others accomplish in virtue of their individual gifts of character and faculty. In these two is evident the foundation of consequent inequalities. These are so natural that when the revolution destroys legitimate society with its natural social distinctions, enduring because founded in right, it immediately sets up in its lawless society artificial distinctions, precarious because without title, to be maintained by violence.
But there is the cry: "No privilege." What is privilege? It is an exemption of an individual from common order and obligation. Now nothing is clearer than that by no acquisition of private and personal rights can a social being generate a title against common order and obligation. This can come from the ordainer only of that common order, namely, public authority. On the other hand, that the duties and relations of citizens should follow the nature of things and conform to actual social conditions, calls for neither exemption nor concession, nor even formal recognition. It is then utterly foreign to the true notion of privilege.
It may be asked, whether a universal system in the primary and grammar grades be impossible. I would not say impossible. Reading, writing, arithmetic, are necessary for everyone, whatever his social condition be. But I will say that under existing conditions it can be proved impracticable. As we shall see in [391] the course of this paper, those grades, being the preparation of the higher, are infected with the errors prevailing in these. However, as this is but indirect, there is every reason to believe that the correction of methods in the high school would eliminate the errors in the grades below. Let us then begin with something born of a double error, of a wrong idea of what complete education is, and of the obligation of the State to provide it, namely, vocational training. For this I can find no other foundation than the assumption that a complete educational system must provide every pupil with the opportunity of rising above his native condition, with the consequence that the State must discharge the obligation. This is in flat contradiction to the natural principle we have established, that mankind taken collectively tends to remain in the station to which it is born, and that those who rise are the exceptions. These through their talent and character will ascend, and in this they must be helped. But from vocational training, with all it implies of a deficient foundation, they will gain little. Indeed that training if examined carefully, will be found to be an occasion of sinking rather than of rising. To make the son of a skillful mechanic or of a thrifty farmer, a barely competent engineer, a mediocre journalist, a lawyer rarely briefed, or a doctor with scanty practice, is not social progress. On the other hand, if he is to remain in his native condition, he will learn his trade at home far better than in any school. The vocational school, then, commits the capital error of basing its work on the needs of the few, which it treats as if they were those of the many.
We said that vocational schools imply deficient fundamental training. The lower grades, which through exaggerated notions of the importance of observation and classification, have become less intellectual in their work, are now hampered with the practical. Pupils are encouraged by their surroundings and their prospects to make little of things purely mental, and to resist attempts to retain them within the strict circle of the grammar school. Thus, while all recognize the gravest national peril in the widespread tendency to abandon the land and other callings, laborious indeed, but neither unprofitable nor dishonorable, for what, in so many cases turns out to be some petty employment; [392] and while many a plan is proposed to mitigate it; the schools, resting on a false social theory and an idea no less false of democratic equality, ignoring also the laws of man's social nature, encourage it. We do not look for the stoppage of the movement from the farm and the trade to the desk. Our social, commercial, economic conditions would make that hope vain. But to moderate it is possible; and the moderating of it is a function of education. What then, is to be thought of a system encouraging the evil, almost forcing it upon our young people?
Let us pass from the schools to find ourselves in the university. On all sides magnificent buildings, commodious lecture halls, ample libraries and museums, with a host of professors and instructors, all at the public expense. Young people are there by the thousand. It is the climax of the false conclusion that, as every boy and girl taken distributively, has the right to rise above his or her native condition, the opportunity of doing so must be provided for all collectively. Hence to all the State offers a university education so complex and complete that from its courses may be had the proximate preparation for any career. Now if there be anything confined by its nature to a class and to a very small class at that, it is a university education. And here let me digress to meet a prejudice that may be growing in your minds. When I say a class, I do not mean the aristocracy, as found elsewhere. So far am I from this that I hold as a calamity the way we have fallen into, of looking to the English universities as models. To this is due much of the excessive sport that has made its way into our universities to the detriment of study, first into the private foundations, as Harvard and Yale, and then into the public institutions. It is bad enough to have young people using the university as a place of social enjoyment and physical prowess, when they do so at their own cost; it is infinitely worse when they thus divert from its legitimate end an institution furnished for them so lavishly at the public expense. But to resume, the function of a university is to provide general culture and special science for those who, engaging in their particular vocations, will promote the amelioration, progress and perfection of society. Such, for many reasons, must be relatively few. Now only are few capable of the task, but from the social [393] point of view few are needed for it. It is of the essence of leadership that the leaders cannot be many. The university, then, is not a place of resort for young people, unequal to such an education, to idle away in crowds a great part of their adolescence, during which they should he gaining in the school of experience habits of industry and thrift; to live at the expense of others, when, according to every natural social law they should be supporting themselves; and in the end to get a degree representing the minimum result of their long course in school and college paid for by the people. The thought of becoming something better than their fathers pushes boys and girls from the high school into the university unfit for university work. Over the ideals of professors mere numbers must prevail, and standards are lowered. The complaint is universal. Standardization, more spending of public money, additional qualifications in teachers of high school and grammar grades, degrees of various kinds in those of the undergraduate departments of colleges and universities, these, and other remedies are proposed. But there is no remedy for an evil that comes from the violation of the essential laws of man's social nature, other than a return to the observance of those laws.
The demand beginning to be heard from the universities for a restriction in the number of students, the acknowledgment now from one now from another, that as a teaching agent the small college has an efficiency all its own, are signs that some are beginning to comprehend in general the real cause of their trouble. But as long as the present theory lasts, and as long as the climax of the system built on it is found in the university, this cannot close its doors to high school graduates, the product of the system, however numerous and however imperfectly grounded. Efficacious reform must begin with the recognition of the utter falseness of the prevailing theory; must be continued by laying a safe foundation in the understanding of the nature of social man and of its necessary consequences in the development of all society; must be perfected by adapting all education to those necessary consequences.
For what is the end of education? We have shown from man's social nature that it is not to lift up our children in the [394] social scale, nor even to offer them collectively the opportunity of rising. It must be therefore to prepare them to discharge, as they should, the duties of the station to which they are born. The fleeing from this is for the multitude, as they learn too late, a fleeing to graver cares, to the losing of opportunity instead of to the gaining of it on a larger scale, and to disappointed hopes; while for the State it is the cause of serious disorder coming from the universal habit it generates of discontent and unrest. Our social infirmities are only too apparent: among the remedies devised is one much insisted on: — Education for citizenship. If this be taken, as seems to be the case, in the sense that pupils must leave the school with definite views on social reforms, that is, as a rule, with the personal ideas of a very fallible master, or those of the organization for social uplift prevailing in their part of the country, and a strong sense of the share they should take in putting such reform into execution, the dullest must see that this is nothing else than to put schools as instruments of propaganda into the hands of the huge organizations which daily usurp more and more the functions of government, dictating to executives, legislatures, judges, juries, the course to follow.
More than one case can be shown of action in obedience to this lawless moral forced which those charged with authority, had they been free, would have rejected as unprofitable and even unjust; and in the Convention of the Bar Association of the United States two years ago, this was dwelt upon as one of the gravest dangers threatening the nation. Such education for citizenship would be nothing else than vocational training assuming a most dangerous form. The only other is that which fits the individual morally and intellectually, to live honorably, industriously, soberly where his lot is cast; doing justice himself, and in common with his fellows, exacting it from others; paying authority rightful obedience, and requiring from it the protection which is his due. In a word, it is to give that moral and mental training which our Christian schools have given in the past, are giving now, and will always give, if they follow faithfully their own system, not a theory, but fundamental truth by long experience reduced to practice.
[395] Leaving aside the moral training, as not immediately connected with our present argument, we say that education taken in its perfect term has for its object, scholarship; and this we take, not in the contracted sense it has acquired in these days of specialization, but for what it really is, a broad and exact culture. Now if this be so, — and it must be so, if education is not to be strictly vocational, but rather a broad foundation on which all callings in life can rest, each in its proper place — no more telling proof of the incompetence of the present system can be brought than the steady decline of scholarship in the higher education, as of exactness and thoroughness in the secondary and primary, during the latter years of the nineteenth century and these early years of the twentieth. There has been no stinting of money. It has been lavished on universities, colleges and schools. Yet as endowments and expenditure grew what was looked for from them decreased. "The Americans are bright men," was the testimony to the Rhodes scholars of a delegation from Oxford to visit American universities, "they have no little information, but thoroughness and exactness are lacking." That scholarship is failing we must confess, if we are able to understand that the seats vacated by the scholars of the earlier nineteenth century remain unfilled. How much scholarship means, we can judge from our loss. A leading member of the Bar Association of the United States, discussing existing political and constitutional conditions, pointed out that the Bench and Bar of earlier days were noteworthy for men, not only lawyers, but also statesmen, and did not hesitate to assert that in the present crisis, for we are really at a crisis of the Constitution, there is an absolute need of such men to save it. According to the ordinary law such men are the fruit of scholarship. Though of our statesmen, jurists, administrators, some were heaven-born, nevertheless even in these how much do we find of scholarship indirectly acquired, how little did they owe to mere technical training. Take but one example in but one man, the Gettysburg address of Abraham Lincoln. Direct scholarship he had none. Still there is a something about those two hundred words or so which all must perceive and the initiated can recognize as the skill of expression and exactness in word that only scholarship can give, in him the result of a [396] careful study the technically trained would view as purposeless, that of the writings, simply as writings, of those who had enjoyed what to him was denied, the liberal education of the scholar.
Though this culture in its fullness is the special work of the university, its foundation and no little of its development belongs to the purely educational secondary school, that aims at an adequate general discipline of the mind, without any further design than to send out young people, each with a training perfect in its degree, that fits them, as did their liberal culture the Athenians of Pericles' day, to enter into commerce or service, civil or military, or to continue in the university their preparation for the professions, or to make it their life career, with an easy versatility and perfect self-possession, the sign of one without fear of finding himself unequal to his undertaking.
Such schools imply as a necessary consequence others widely different for those to whom opportunity opens not the higher culture or whom inclination or natural gifts do not draw to it. In other words, they imply a system of education fitting in with the conditions arising from man's social nature, rather than one that, as far as possible, would abolish them. Sometimes indeed circumstances compel a material union of schools. From the Irish hedge-school and the Scottish village school have come scholars we should seek in vain from the American school to-day. But it was because the master, himself not without scholarship, seeing in this one or in that possibilities of greater things, gave him ungrudgingly a training other than that received by his less capable companions, a training in the old time-honored curriculum, Latin, Greek, Euclid, algebra; not one of them, the last excepted to a certain degree, of practical value in the eyes of the modern teacher, yet all combining wonderfully to effect what Cicero calls the subactio of the mind; that laborious deep ploughing which, if it be not culture itself, is in the intellect, as in the field, a condition without which there will be no real fruit of culture. But when the larger scale is reached, what the master did of his own initiative, must be done by system.
The answer is heard, of course, that the State considers the universal good, and cannot descend to minute particulars. But this cannot mean that therefore it has the right to impose a system [397] unnatural and therefore harmful to the universal good. Rather is it a confession that education is too complex an affair to be a function of the general government, and must be left to those whom nature designates as its own agents to bring it to successful issue. Thus what has been demonstrated again and again from parental and religious right, is proved anew from the very nature of man.
All this confirms me in the advice I gave last year. Be accommodating in non-essentials. Conciliate the authorities in boards and universities. But hold fast to our traditional methods founded on truth and exemplifying all I have said far better than I can say it. I see two rays of hope promising a better day. One is that the national intelligence is beginning to be conscious of the inroads upon the Constitution already made by bureaucratic methods, and measures imposed lawlessly by certain associations upon Congress and State legislatures. The other is, that a system which contradicts human nature cannot stand. Only an hour ago I read a complaint from a leader in the world of State education that only a comparatively small percentage of those of student age avail themselves of the opportunities offered them. It may be that Americans will prefer bureaucratic tyranny to constitutional liberty, and consent to have forced upon them what nature abhors. If so, then your career is ended. But you and I think better of American people. Lastly your position in the matter is much better than that of the colleges for men. You have a net-work [sic] of academies and parish schools all over the country that must give pause to any attack. The colleges stand isolated and alone. Their pupils could be taken up into existing institutions: yours would need new institutions to be provided. This is your safeguard and it is a real one.
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Source: Fr. Henry Woods, S.J., "The Necessary Subordination of Educational Theories to Sound Sociology," The Catholic Educational Association Bulletin 19, no. 1 (Nov. 1922): 385–397.
Igor Stravinsky on Snobs
[91] I have often heard artists say: "Why do you complain about snobs? It is they who are the most useful servants of new trends. If they don't serve [92] them out of conviction, they do it at least in their capacity as snobs. They are your best customers." I answer that they are bad customers, false customers, as they are as readily at the service of error as of truth. By serving all causes they completely vitiate the best ones because they confuse them with the worst.
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Source: Igor Stravinsky, Poetics of Music in the Form of Six Lessons, trans. by Arthur Knodel and Ingolf Dahl (New York: Vintage Books, 1947), 91–92.
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Source: Igor Stravinsky, Poetics of Music in the Form of Six Lessons, trans. by Arthur Knodel and Ingolf Dahl (New York: Vintage Books, 1947), 91–92.
Igor Stravinsky on Universality and Order in Music
[75] It just so happens that our contemporary epoch offers us the example of a musical culture that is day by day losing the sense of continuity and the taste for a common language.
Individual caprice and intellectual anarchy, which tend to control the world in which we live, isolate the artist from his fellow artists and condemn him to appear as a monster in the eyes of the public; a monster of originality, inventor of his own language, of his own vocabulary, and of the apparatus of his art. The use of already employed materials and of established forms is usually forbidden him. So he comes to the point of speaking an idiom without relation to the world that listens to him. His art becomes truly unique, in the sense [76] that it is incommunicable and shut off on every side. The erratic block is no longer a curiosity that is an exception; it is the sole model offered neophytes for emulation.
The appearance of a series of anarchic, incompatible, and contradictory tendencies in the field of history corresponds to this complete break in tradition. Times have changed since the day when Bach, Handel, and Vivaldi quite evidently spoke the same language which their disciples repeated after them, each one unwittingly transforming this language according to his own personality. The day when Haydn, Mozart, and Cimarosa echoed each other in works that served their successors as models, successors such as Rossini, who was fond of repeating in so touching a way that Mozart had been the delight of his youth, the desperation of his maturity, and the consolation of his old age.
Those times have given way to a new age that seeks to reduce everything to uniformity in the realm of matter while it tends to shatter all universality in the realm of the spirit in deference to an anarchic individualism. That his how once universal centers of culture have become isolated. They withdraw into a national, even regional, framework, which in its turn splits up to the point of eventual disappearance.
[77] Whether he wills it or not, the contemporary artist is caught in this infernal machination. There are simple souls who rejoice in this state of affairs. There are criminals who approve of it. Only a few are horrified at a solitude that obliges them to turn in upon themselves when everything invites them to participate in social life.
The universality whose benefits we are gradually losing is an entirely different thing from the cosmopolitanism that is beginning to take hold of us. Universality presupposes the fecundity of a culture that is spread and communicated everywhere, whereas cosmopolitanism provides for neither action nor doctrine and induces the indifferent passivity of a sterile eclecticism.
Universality necessarily stipulates submission to an established order. And its reasons for this stipulation are convincing. We submit to this order out of sympathy or prudence. In either case the benefits of submission are not long in appearing.
In a society like that of the Middle Ages, which recognized and safeguarded the primacy of the spiritual realm and the dignity of the human person (which must not be confused with the individual)—in such a society recognition by everyone of a hierarchy of values and a body of moral principles established an order of things that put everyone in accord concerning certain fundamental [78] concepts of good and evil, truth and error. I do not say of beauty and ugliness, because it is absolutely futile to dogmatize in so subjective a domain.
It should not surprise us then that social order has never directly governed these matters. As a matter of fact, it is not by promulgating an aesthetic, but by improving the status of man and by exalting the competent workman in the artist that a civilization communicates something of its order to works of art and speculation. The good artisan himself in those happy ages dreams of achieving the beautiful only through the categories of the useful. His prime concern is applied to the rightness of an operation that is performed well, in keeping with a true order. The aesthetic impression that will arise from this rightness will not be legitimately achieved except insofar as it was not calculated. Poussin said quite correctly that "the goal of art is delectation." He did not say that this delectation should be the goal of the artist who must always submit solely to the demands of the work to be done.
It is a fact of experience, and one that is only seemingly paradoxical, that we find freedom in a strict submission to the object: "It is not wisdom, but foolishness, that is stubborn," says Sophocles, in the magnificent translation of Antigone given us by André Bonnard. "Look at the trees. By embracing [78] the movements of the tempest they preserve their tender branches; but if they rear against the wind they are carried off, roots and all."
Let us take the best example: the fugue, a pure form in which the music means nothing outside itself. Doesn't the fugue imply the composer's submission to the rules? And is it not within those strictures that he finds the full flowering of his freedom as a creator? Strength, says Leonardo da Vinci, is born of constraint and dies in freedom.
Insubordination boasts of just the opposite and does away with constraint in the ever-disappointed hope of finding in freedom the principle of strength. Instead, it finds in freedom only the arbitrariness of whim and the disorders of fancy. Thus it loses every vestige of control, loses its bearings and ends by demanding of music things outside its scope and competence. Do we not, in truth, ask the impossible of music when we expect it to express feelings, to translate dramatic situations, even to imitate nature? And, as if it were not enough to condemn music to the job of being an illustrator, the century to which we owe what it called "progress through enlightenment" invented for good measure the monumental absurdity which consists of bestowing on every accessory, as well as on every feeling and every character of the lyrical drama, a sort of check-room number called a Leitmotiv—a [80] system that led Debussy to say that the Ring struck him as a sort of vast musical city directory.
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Source: Igor Stravinsky, Poetics of Music in the Form of Six Lessons, trans. by Arthur Knodel and Ingolf Dahl (New York: Vintage Books, 1947), 75–80.
Individual caprice and intellectual anarchy, which tend to control the world in which we live, isolate the artist from his fellow artists and condemn him to appear as a monster in the eyes of the public; a monster of originality, inventor of his own language, of his own vocabulary, and of the apparatus of his art. The use of already employed materials and of established forms is usually forbidden him. So he comes to the point of speaking an idiom without relation to the world that listens to him. His art becomes truly unique, in the sense [76] that it is incommunicable and shut off on every side. The erratic block is no longer a curiosity that is an exception; it is the sole model offered neophytes for emulation.
The appearance of a series of anarchic, incompatible, and contradictory tendencies in the field of history corresponds to this complete break in tradition. Times have changed since the day when Bach, Handel, and Vivaldi quite evidently spoke the same language which their disciples repeated after them, each one unwittingly transforming this language according to his own personality. The day when Haydn, Mozart, and Cimarosa echoed each other in works that served their successors as models, successors such as Rossini, who was fond of repeating in so touching a way that Mozart had been the delight of his youth, the desperation of his maturity, and the consolation of his old age.
Those times have given way to a new age that seeks to reduce everything to uniformity in the realm of matter while it tends to shatter all universality in the realm of the spirit in deference to an anarchic individualism. That his how once universal centers of culture have become isolated. They withdraw into a national, even regional, framework, which in its turn splits up to the point of eventual disappearance.
[77] Whether he wills it or not, the contemporary artist is caught in this infernal machination. There are simple souls who rejoice in this state of affairs. There are criminals who approve of it. Only a few are horrified at a solitude that obliges them to turn in upon themselves when everything invites them to participate in social life.
The universality whose benefits we are gradually losing is an entirely different thing from the cosmopolitanism that is beginning to take hold of us. Universality presupposes the fecundity of a culture that is spread and communicated everywhere, whereas cosmopolitanism provides for neither action nor doctrine and induces the indifferent passivity of a sterile eclecticism.
Universality necessarily stipulates submission to an established order. And its reasons for this stipulation are convincing. We submit to this order out of sympathy or prudence. In either case the benefits of submission are not long in appearing.
In a society like that of the Middle Ages, which recognized and safeguarded the primacy of the spiritual realm and the dignity of the human person (which must not be confused with the individual)—in such a society recognition by everyone of a hierarchy of values and a body of moral principles established an order of things that put everyone in accord concerning certain fundamental [78] concepts of good and evil, truth and error. I do not say of beauty and ugliness, because it is absolutely futile to dogmatize in so subjective a domain.
It should not surprise us then that social order has never directly governed these matters. As a matter of fact, it is not by promulgating an aesthetic, but by improving the status of man and by exalting the competent workman in the artist that a civilization communicates something of its order to works of art and speculation. The good artisan himself in those happy ages dreams of achieving the beautiful only through the categories of the useful. His prime concern is applied to the rightness of an operation that is performed well, in keeping with a true order. The aesthetic impression that will arise from this rightness will not be legitimately achieved except insofar as it was not calculated. Poussin said quite correctly that "the goal of art is delectation." He did not say that this delectation should be the goal of the artist who must always submit solely to the demands of the work to be done.
It is a fact of experience, and one that is only seemingly paradoxical, that we find freedom in a strict submission to the object: "It is not wisdom, but foolishness, that is stubborn," says Sophocles, in the magnificent translation of Antigone given us by André Bonnard. "Look at the trees. By embracing [78] the movements of the tempest they preserve their tender branches; but if they rear against the wind they are carried off, roots and all."
Let us take the best example: the fugue, a pure form in which the music means nothing outside itself. Doesn't the fugue imply the composer's submission to the rules? And is it not within those strictures that he finds the full flowering of his freedom as a creator? Strength, says Leonardo da Vinci, is born of constraint and dies in freedom.
Insubordination boasts of just the opposite and does away with constraint in the ever-disappointed hope of finding in freedom the principle of strength. Instead, it finds in freedom only the arbitrariness of whim and the disorders of fancy. Thus it loses every vestige of control, loses its bearings and ends by demanding of music things outside its scope and competence. Do we not, in truth, ask the impossible of music when we expect it to express feelings, to translate dramatic situations, even to imitate nature? And, as if it were not enough to condemn music to the job of being an illustrator, the century to which we owe what it called "progress through enlightenment" invented for good measure the monumental absurdity which consists of bestowing on every accessory, as well as on every feeling and every character of the lyrical drama, a sort of check-room number called a Leitmotiv—a [80] system that led Debussy to say that the Ring struck him as a sort of vast musical city directory.
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Source: Igor Stravinsky, Poetics of Music in the Form of Six Lessons, trans. by Arthur Knodel and Ingolf Dahl (New York: Vintage Books, 1947), 75–80.
Sunday, November 10, 2019
A New Vocation (1930)
[66] The Catholic Gazette (Vol. XXI, No. 2) thinks the moment is propitious for some sort of corporate action by Catholic ladies (and every true Catholic woman is a lady) to emphasize the present trend of fashion towards a more becoming and more artistic style of dress. Any artist will tell you, says our contemporary, that the short dress was not beautiful, whatever may be claimed for it on the score of comfort and hygiene. The trend of fashion is now against it, and possibly the energetic action of Catholic women in Italy and elsewhere has had much to do with the change. We have heard an eminent professor of moral theology argue that a few Catholic women, recognized as leaders of fashion, could quickly put an end to the extravagances of the dress designers by corporate action. Let it be agreed amongst them that they will resolutely refuse to buy anything, however beautiful, which offends Christian modesty, and let it be equally agreed that they will not buy a modest garment which is not beautiful, and the designers will quickly toe the line. This idea opens up the interesting possibility of turning the ''cult of fashion" into a vocation, but it requires a little pluck on the part of the few Catholic women who are sufficiently well-off and well-placed to be recognized as "leaders of fashion."
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Source: Anonymous editorial, "A New Vocation," The Catholic Fortnightly Review 37, no. 3 (March 1930): 66.
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Source: Anonymous editorial, "A New Vocation," The Catholic Fortnightly Review 37, no. 3 (March 1930): 66.
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