The Masterpiece of St. Cecilia

Saint Cecilia appears a kind of miracle in herself: slated, like the ill-fated Sts. George, Nicholas, and Philomena, to be dropped from the Church calendar in 1969, owing to the lack of evidence for her existence, she won a reprieve because of her popularity! Supposedly she lived in the second or third century AD. As a small child she dedicated her virginity to God. Her parents, however, weren't buying her vow, and married her to one Valerian. Much to his surprise, at the crucial moment she explained that she was going to, so to speak, eschew his bed because an angel had told her to. He demanded to see said angel, but she told him that it would not be possible unless he was baptized. Valerian ran out and found a handy baptizer; when he got back, sure enough there was the angel talking to his (Valerian's) wife.

Valerian was thus readily convinced that celibacy was also good for the gander, and together he and Cecilia converted her brother Tiburtius. Unhappily for the men, their Christianity became known and they were martyred (and later beatified). When Cecilia gave her goods to the poor, the jig was up with her too. The authorities tried steaming her to death without success. Then they ordered her beheaded. The headsman gave her three whacks, but quit when her head failed to come off. However, she understandably died later of the aftereffects.

This account was set down some centuries later. Although there is some evidence for the actual existence of Valerian and Tiburtius, there is none at all for Cecilia's, probably as a result of the worldwide male antifeminist conspiracy. But even in the legend there is nothing about her love for music, let alone her prowess at the organ, at whose keyboard she is traditionally represented. That whole notion surfaced in mid-Renaissance, apparently from someone's misreading of the legend, which says that while music (pagan) was being played at her wedding she sang to God in her heart to keep her pure.

Anyhow, at some point in the 16th century people decided that musical celebration of St. Cecilia's Day (November 22) would be a Good Idea. The first such ceremonies took place in France. They did not catch on in England until the Restoration, a century later. Around the turn of the next century they were very popular, and for the London event major poets (e.g. Dryden and Pope) and major composers collaborated on the odes publicly sung to honor the Saint and the Art of Music. (Gounod's St. Cecilia Mass resulted from a revival of the tradition in 19th-century France.) In London, a typical celebration of the Feast of St. Cecily, as she was also known, began with a religious service at St. Bride's Church, followed by an entertainment at Stationers' Hall, which included an ode for the occasion.

Of the English Cecilia odes, the best known-and almost certainly the most accomplished--are those by Purcell and the much later ones by Handel, set to Dryden's two great poems written in Purcell's day. The liner notes will tell you that Purcell wrote two such odes: Welcome to all the pleasures in 1683 and the present one nine years later. And so he did. But there are also two others, the Latin Laudate Ceciliam, also 1683, and Raise, raise the voice, of uncertain date. Moreover, Purcell wrote the canticles for the 1683 service.

Of all these, Hail, bright Cecilia is indisputably the masterpiece--a towering baroque structure that ranks with the greatest of that period of magnificence. It opens with a vast overture that involves a Bolognese-style trumpet sonata and a fugal canzona. This is followed by a grand choral invocation that reappears in more elaborate form as a finale. The verses of Nicolas Brady's poem contrast sacred music with secular and there is much vocal imitation of instruments. This pattern is interrupted halfway by a grandiose chorus, "Soul of the world."

Saint Cecilia appears a kind of miracle in herself: slated, like the ill-fated Sts. George, Nicholas, and Philomena, to be dropped from the Church calendar in 1969, owing to the lack of evidence for her existence, she won a reprieve because of her popularity! Supposedly she lived in the second or third century AD. As a small child she dedicated her virginity to God. Her parents, however, weren't buying her vow, and married her to one Valerian. Much to his surprise, at the crucial moment she explained that she was going to, so to speak, eschew his bed because an angel had told her to. He demanded to see said angel, but she told him that it would not be possible unless he was baptized. Valerian ran out and found a handy baptizer; when he got back, sure enough there was the angel talking to his (Valerian's) wife.

Valerian was thus readily convinced that celibacy was also good for the gander, and together he and Cecilia converted her brother Tiburtius. Unhappily for the men, their Christianity became known and they were martyred (and later beatified). When Cecilia gave her goods to the poor, the jig was up with her too. The authorities tried steaming her to death without success. Then they ordered her beheaded. The headsman gave her three whacks, but quit when her head failed to come off. However, she understandably died later of the aftereffects.

This account was set down some centuries later. Although there is some evidence for the actual existence of Valerian and Tiburtius, there is none at all for Cecilia's, probably as a result of the worldwide male antifeminist conspiracy. But even in the legend there is nothing about her love for music, let alone her prowess at the organ, at whose keyboard she is traditionally represented. That whole notion surfaced in mid-Renaissance, apparently from someone's misreading of the legend, which says that while music (pagan) was being played at her wedding she sang to God in her heart to keep her pure.

Anyhow, at some point in the 16th century people decided that musical celebration of St. Cecilia's Day (November 22) would be a Good Idea. The first such ceremonies took place in France. They did not catch on in England until the Restoration, a century later. Around the turn of the next century they were very popular, and for the London event major poets (e.g. Dryden and Pope) and major composers collaborated on the odes publicly sung to honor the Saint and the Art of Music. (Gounod's St. Cecilia Mass resulted from a revival of the tradition in 19th-century France.) In London, a typical celebration of the Feast of St. Cecily, as she was also known, began with a religious service at St. Bride's Church, followed by an entertainment at Stationers' Hall, which included an ode for the occasion.

Of the English Cecilia odes, the best known-and almost certainly the most accomplished--are those by Purcell and the much later ones by Handel, set to Dryden's two great poems written in Purcell's day. The liner notes will tell you that Purcell wrote two such odes: Welcome to all the pleasures in 1683 and the present one nine years later. And so he did. But there are also two others, the Latin Laudate Ceciliam, also 1683, and Raise, raise the voice, of uncertain date. Moreover, Purcell wrote the canticles for the 1683 service.

Of all these, Hail, bright Cecilia is indisputably the masterpiece--a towering baroque structure that ranks with the greatest of that period of magnificence. It opens with a vast overture that involves a Bolognese-style trumpet sonata and a fugal canzona. This is followed by a grand choral invocation that reappears in more elaborate form as a finale. The verses of Nicolas Brady's poem contrast sacred music with secular and there is much vocal imitation of instruments. This pattern is interrupted halfway by a grandiose chorus, "Soul of the world."