Dom Antoine Bonnet, The Motu Proprio and Organ Music (1954)

The French Revue of the Association des Amis de l'Orgue has recently published a very instructive inquiry on the liturgical role of the organist (cf. L'Orgue, quarterly review, No. 61 and following). One of our better organists, having been questioned by M. Pierre Denis on the conception he held regarding the organ in the Church, answered with his usual frankness and did not hesitate to take, when faced with the problem of the church organ and its relationship with the Liturgy, a very firm position. (cf. L'Orgue, No. 58-59, p. 5-7) "The organ," says he, "will always have a tendency to encumber the liturgy, and when a high mass is sung, it should do nothing more than extend the plainchant with improvisations." Or again, "Let us not forget that the mass is before all else a participation of the congregation in prayer. The organ can do nothing more than distract them to a certain extent in making its own voice heard." (This in regard to eleven o'clock masses).

That an organist as well armed, technically speaking, as Gaston Litaize should speak with this clearness is very significant to start with. What is not less revealing, however, is the number of reactions which this declaration of principles has provoked. Let us admit that certain practical solutions proposed by the organist of St. Francois Xavier church can be open to discussion, such as that, for example, of the concert placed on Sunday between two masses "when the organist could dispense his virtuosity at leisure . . . " Finally, "to clearly forbid the principle itself of eleven o'clock [32] masses" is to affirm a truth which is basically incontestable, but at the same time to disrupt without discretion established habits and provoke inevitable backwaters. Thus it is that in the various answers given to date to the questions raised by the Bulletin des Amis de l'Orgue there is a sort of astonishment manifested, and sometimes even emotion. In any case, no other organist has dared to compromise himself on this point and renounce with such cheerfulness the romantic conceptions of the organ in church. Under diverse forms and proposing accommodations more or less varied in nature, all of them expect to keep the positions gained and to defend the rights of the king of instruments which are supposedly threatened. There is a touching attachment here, to a great extent explicable, considering how full of temptations and dangers the role demanded of the church organist is.

Just think, in fact, of the more or less conscious reactions which take hold of the organist when he seats himself at the console of his organ. From the height of the organ-loft he dominates the assembly of the faithful, and he knows that not only will he be heard by this multitude, but that he alone will have the duty of discoursing with it. Now for that he has in his power an instrument unique in its type which is in itself a universe of sound, endowed with numerous voices, various levels, and countless combinations, running from the most tenuous softness to sovereign power. Why should we be surprised if sometimes the organist loses his sense of the proper limits and is tempted to obey the demon inside him which whispers, "If you bow before me, all this is yours"? We cannot, however, escape the trend of events. It is a fact that in the course of history the organ has owed its development to the decadence of the Liturgy and the steady loss of its primitive traditions. For good logic on authentic restoration of the liturgical Regulations entails a more and more effective participation of all the faithful present in the acts of the Cult, and by way of consequence, a re-casting of the role the organ is called on to fill in the course of the ceremonies.

Is all this really so new, though? To appease our uneasiness and dissipate our doubts, is it not sufficient to read [33] over with attention the Motu Proprio of Blessed Pope Pius X? This document has existed for fifty years, and yet, far from having aged, it appears more up-to-date and fitting than ever in its decisions. The principles which the Holy Father formulates in it are precepts in edict "the fullness of Apostolic Power" and which as such have the force of law. Moreover, however, based on the reality of affairs itself and a profound experience in the exigencies of the Divine Cult, they answer our questions fully and show us with directness the road to follow.

The organ, it can be objected, occupies very little space in this "Code of Law of Sacred Music." This is true, but from this laconicism itself there arises for us an eloquent teaching on the exact place which the Church feels it should give the organ in the course of the Offices. In the Motu Proprio, in fact, the hierarchy among the diverse types of Sacred Music is admirably outlined: 1. Primacy and excellence of Gregorian Chant which is the chant proper to the Roman Church, and in which, as in a supreme model, are found the essential qualities of Sacred Music. — 2. Praise is given to Classic Polyphony and to more recent vocal works, provided that, through their qualities, they are brought closer in style to Gregorian Chant. — 3. Finally, but only in the sixth chapter, the organ is mentioned while emphasizing that the proper music of the Church being purely vocal, it is only in the manner of a permission that music with organ accompaniment can be performed, without, however, covering up the singing, preceding it with preludes or interrupting it with disproportionate interludes.

No doubt these are rather severe conditions, but are they not, when we really think about them, sound wisdom and judgment? The organist who accepts them with an open heart cannot but recognize their sound basis and accept, without sterile regrets, the place which is assigned to him in the whole scheme according to just proportions. And let it be said in passing, how can we explain after such clear directives the habits which are still spread throughout too many parishes, as, for example, the custom of putting in a piece of [34] bravura at the offertory which has no relationship at all with the act which is being accomplished at the altar, and which, under the pretext of "enhancing the ceremony" often obliges the celebrant to wait; or what is more, that of introducing during the Magnificat verses of a quality and brilliance which could still excite the spirit of a Huysmans? (Look over the description of Vespers at St. Sulpice in En Route.)

While the Motu Proprio gives us first of all a lesson in modesty, it does not mean, for all that, to paralyse [sic] the organist in the practice of his art, but, rather, encourage himself to surpass himself, to give up his personal views and renounce facile effects in order to make his playing conform to all the qualities which true sacred music should possess, and find in the difficulties of the service he is asked to give the principle of continually new progress. Erik Satie, speaking one day of "the spirit of music," asserted that "the practice of an art leads us to live in the most absolute renouncement." (P. D. Templier, Erik Satie, 1932, p. 61). Every "servant of music" has this experience, and it is certain that the "abnegation, the sacrifice of oneself, courage and patience" are indispensable virtues to the organist who is conscious of the role which the Church has confided to him in the course of the liturgical Offices. The goal to be attained is so noble that it justifies such requirements, and the organist can believe himself to be lessened in the importance if at the cost of this loyally observed discipline he lifts himself little by little up to that sanctity, that goodness of forms and that universality which, uniting him to the qualities of the liturgy itself, will leave their imprint on his art and render him capable of realizing in his way the very purpose of the whole Cult, the glory of God alone and the spiritual profit of the faithful.

One of the most disputed points of the inquiry to which we alluded at the beginning was that of improvisation. For a Gaston Litaize or an Andre Fleury the question does not seem to raise any difficulties: "Nothing can equal," declared the latter, "a plainchant mass in which the faithful perform the Gregorian melodies, the organ paraphrasing these latter [35] in a sort of direct resonance." (cf. L'Orgue, October-December 1948). This is the point of view of the organists who possess all the elements necessary to make a complete musician, but such a convergence remains exceptional, and even for the most gifted, this spontaneous musical commentary on all the pieces of an Office is a formidable test because of its frequence and its continuity. This is not to mention the immense distances which separate our musical sense from the esthetic proper to the remote composers of the Gregorian melodies. It is not without a long apprenticeship and ceaselessly renewed efforts that a musician of the twentieth century will be able to make his improvisations conform "to the rhythm and the internal structure" of Gregorian melody.

Very few organists are thus capable of improvising in a worthy manner during the liturgical offices. For all the others, the Motu Proprio furnishes the elements of a solution, if not perfect, at least satisfactory. In chapter II, in fact, the exposition of the types of Sacred Music leads us to think that there also exists for the organ a vast repertoire of "classic polyphony" which possesses, keeping all the proportions, the qualities which the Pope recognized in vocal polyphony. No doubt most of these pieces cannot be played at the moments in the Office for which they were written: Verses for the Kyrie eleison, for the Gloria in excelsis, for the Hymns and the Magnificat, etc., but the perfection, the seriousness and the gravity of their style makes them worthy to be inserted in the structure of the liturgical offices.

All of which presupposes long research and a choice which is not without difficulties. There again we find light and guidance in a capital phrase of the Motu Proprio: "A composition destined for the Church is that much more sacred and (to the extent) liturgical as by its movement, inspiration and savor, it more closely approaches Gregorian melodies; and, on the contrary, it is that much less worthy of the Temple to the extent that it diverges from this supreme model." This rule has often been remembered, but has often received a litteral [sic] and sterile interpretation. It is not sufficient that a piece be written on a plainchant theme or in one [36] of the "tones" of Gregorian chant for it to automatically take on a religious and liturgical value. It is with special design that the terms of our text have been chosen to make us understand that a servile imitation of Gregorian melody could not possibly be recommended, and that it could only be a question of coming to a more or less happy approximation of the supreme model through an ensemble of delicate and subtle qualities which alone permit us to decide the degree of relationship and correspondence between the piece being studied and liturgical chant.

The Motu Proprio gives us yet one further piece of advice on which we should insist, so well does it seem to us to answer the difficulties which press on us. In chapter VI, in fact, the Pope states clearly that not only must the organ playing contain all the qualities of true Sacred Music, but that it must be proportioned according to the proper nature of the instrument.

For twenty-five years, at least, an admirable effort has been brought to the manufacture to effect a more and more faithful restoration of the organ according to the glorious tradition which has little by little endowed this great instrument with an ensemble of qualities which confer on it a very special right to take a place in the House of God and to discourse with the choir of voices. Brought to the height of its development and enriched with recent technical perfections (adjustable combinations, etc.) such an instrument offers the organist innumerable possibilities, and this, then, is why it is more than ever opportune to call to his attention that they could in no way be exploited without a profound knowledge of the "proper nature" of the instrument and the elements of which it is composed, without an exact discernment of their extent and limit. The organ does not sound like an orchestra. The relative slowness of the opening of its pipes forbids it too rapid a movement, and certain harmonic audacities which easily get by when they are given to different instruments become unbearable on the organ when all the notes speak with the same force and are enriched by the sparkling brightness of the mixtures.

[37] We must, however, come to the end of these few reflections. They come far from exhausting the admirable concentration of the Pontifical Document. Let us hope at least that they have let us sense its permanent timeliness. What the Church expects of the organist is as though summarized in the celebrated and so often quoted proposition: I desire that my people should pray on Beauty. Servant of Music, and in that way so much more necessary for himself that his work should contribute to the beauty and dignity of the divine office, the organist should at the same time be a man of prayer,—for in order to lead others to prayer, one must first pray oneself—. Let him know how to give his art and his prayer to the texts and chants which fill the liturgical Offices, and he will discover the true means of touching souls and aiding them to raise their prayers to God, Principle and End of all Harmony and of all Perfection.

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Source: Dom Antoine Bonnet, "The Motu Proprio and Organ Music," The Gregorian Review 1, no. 3 (May-June 1954): 31–37.