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Volume 4 · 1987
Essays in Medieval Studies 4
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Looking for Manuscripts ... and Then?
R.B.C. Huygens
Long ago, during my college days, I remember our teacher of Latin telling us that a complete text of Livy had finally come to light. But, he added, "I'm still happy that rumor proved to be untrue." At that time, although I wasn't a fervent admirer of this Roman historian, such a point of view taken by a philologist was utterly beyond my comprehension, and it took me quite some years, having in the meantime become a specialist (of Medieval Latin) myself, before I realized that I, too, had gradually become none too keen to discover everything that was lost. While preparing my edition of William of Tyre, the author of the most important Crusader Chronicle,1 I was, of course, glad to be able to use several manuscripts which had remained unknown until then; but from the moment I had finished the tiresome work of collating them all (and had even done so twice), committed my text to the printer, and started proofreading, I would have considered the discovery of yet another manuscript, even by myself and however much it might still improve my text, a most unwelcome event indeed.
Speaking about William of Tyre, I may mention that we know for certain he wrote two more works, in particular a History of Oriental Rulers, both of which seem to be definitely lost. And when I say so, I do hope you'll believe me when I stress that, following the example of many others, I've really looked for it, and it is this very activity, the quest for manuscripts and texts, to which I would like to devote this essay. It may well be true that, to paraphrase Brillat-Savarin, the invention of a new culinary dish is a source of more happiness for mankind than the discovery of a new manuscript
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or even a new text, and I might have found a subject more in line with this assertion. But one cannot overlook the fact that even while superficially studying Medieval Latin literature, time and again one comes across authors whose production originally amounted to more works than we know now, and, the other way round, across many texts for which no author is mentioned all. The number of texts--classical, patristic and medieval--preserved in, or known from, only a single manuscript makes us realize how much we owe to, or have to blame for, pure chance or just bad luck. The fact that quite a few texts, which we know to have been written, still have not been discovered cannot be explained exclusively from the unimaginable losses incurred during the many centuries which followed their appearance; it is also due to the relatively small number of people who really do look for them. And those who do see their activity severely hampered by the fact that a large number of manuscripts have been catalogued only very inadequately or even not at all, or because they are to be found in collections to which one has no, or only limited, access, or because of the cost of visits to far-away libraries (not everywhere are funds available for this kind of intellectual activity), and also because many a librarian (in Europe, of course) has a tendency to look upon us as if we were all potential pilferers, and thus manages to make our journey to his treasures into something of a journey to Canossa. Under such circumstances it can never be excluded, even in the case of well-known and thoroughly researched authors, that a text which is considered lost is in fact still awaiting discovery and better days to come.
This having been
said, let us go back to William of Tyre, whom I mentioned at the beginning of
this essay. Until less than a quarter of a century ago, the autobiographical
chapter he included among the over 600 other chapters of his Chronicle was
considered irretrievably lost. William was born in
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its extant heading, the twelfth chapter of the nineteenth
book dealt with his returning home from studying. That had to mean from
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ties both within and without his own university.2
So much luck has
not presented itself (at least until now) in the case of the previously
mentioned History of Oriental Rulers. However, I have been able to point out a
note in the margin of Matthew Paris's bulky autographic historical compilation,
in which he mentions that Peter des Roches, Bishop of Winchester, on his return
from the Holy Land in 1231 carried with him a copy of this rare work, a copy
which Matthew Paris had much difficulty in acquiring from the bishop and which
was since kept m the Library of St Albans. There are still numerous extant
manuscripts from this famous Benedictine monastery, but unfortunately not this
one or even a single medieval catalogue in which it might have been mentioned,
so that without Matthew Paris's marginal note we would not even have known that
a copy of the History of Oriental Rulers ever reached Europe at all. But no
trace has been left of this singularly important manuscript. So what fate can
it possibly have met? Alas, many, unfortunately. It may have gone the way of so
many thousands of other manuscripts which were torn up, burned, cooked for
glue, sent to the paper-mill or dumped into a river, just to get rid of them or
because they had become illegible after having been kept in a dirty room called
a Library, decayed from humidity or gnawed at by rats. Or maybe it has
disappeared into a stove via a wastepaper basket, the way parts of the
invaluable Codex Sinaiticus were lost, or even used in the same undignified way
as a unique Leiden manuscript of a medieval poem in very early Dutch, a
manuscript whose language was no longer understood by its owner and was ready
for use as toilet paper when it was saved at the very last moment, only
slightly over one century ago. Or maybe it was destroyed out of hatred for its
Moslem subject, or because someone did not know what to make of it. Or thrown
onto a public rubbish-dump like the precious fragments I witnessed coming to
light from among the garbage in Vézelay, in
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they found under the wooden floor of what probably once was
the scriptorium of one of
Now much of course
has disappeared from the original libraries by theft. Be it far from me to
strike up a hymn in praise of pilferers in general, but I would like to make
one exception, and mention one case of theft which has rendered historians and
philologists alike a very great service indeed. Over the beautiful, already
mentioned abbey of Vézelay in my beloved
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survived to be published only ten years ago.5
Of course, there have been many more such cases, but war and destruction, negligence and neglect were much more frequent, and that is why anyone who is working in the broad field of Medieval Latin literature, has always to come back to the many still extant manuscripts, either in search of what is considered lost, or of unknown texts yet to be discovered, or, as a textual critic, looking for elements which will enable him to correct unsatisfactory editions. Seek, and ye shall find, and although very often one does not find what one is really looking for, being in touch with manuscripts very often bears rich fruit, because in consulting printed editions you usually restrict your inquiries to just what you are looking for, but in going over the contents of manuscripts, you often come across texts with which you would otherwise never have make acquaintance.
By the way, when speaking about "printed editions'' one should not foster all too great illusions, because, in contrast to the vast number of excellent studies about almost all imaginable aspects of the Middle Ages, the editions of Latin texts, which form the basis of all serious research, are still very often most unsatisfactory: nearly all editions up to well into the nineteenth century have to be done over again, and, unfortunately, even in our own times, one observes that the added sum of palaeographical knowledge and Latin does not yet make a real editor, and while previous centuries very often made ill-considered conjectures, I do consider as not less harmful the reaction to this habit, i.e., printing just plain nonsense from lack of professional experience (usually disguised as respect for the manuscripts). The textual critic will try to remedy this sorry state of affairs to the best of his abilities, knowing, but not deterred by the knowledge, that perfect reconstruction of a lost original will remain an unattainable goal. And in trying to come as near as possible, well aware of his manifold limitations, he will look for assist-
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ance from specialists in other fields, and grateful for their help he will try to reciprocate from sources he knows or by techniques he masters.
Everybody can give examples from his own experience. From mine I recall your attention to the Latin translation of the Reynard the Fox, which offers invaluable help for the constitution of the Flemish original, which, although about contemporary with its thirteenth century Latin version, is transmitted in much younger manuscripts; in the eleventh century my compatriot, Bernard of Utrecht, wrote a Latin commentary on the Ecloga of Theodulus,6 for which he used the now almost lost, but at that time considerable riches of the library of the local chapter school, and in this commentary students of the history of medicine will find the earliest mention of autopsy, philosophers the oldest quotation from the "Florentina," the Latin version of Aristotle's "Analytica Priora" (for which until recently Abé1ard and John of Salisbury were the oldest references), and historians the oldest version of the malicious story of the pact between the devil and pope Sylvester II. And when during their excavations of the Carolingian church of Nevers, in Burgundy, archeologists found layers of ashes under the present cathedral, a specialist of Medieval Latin might have helped them to date it, because in one of his sermons, a source unknown to the archeologists, the local canon Teterius deplores the fact that in the catastrophic fire of 953 so many books were lost and after many years had still not been replaced.7
I said "a source unknown to them," and by saying so I come to a difficult problem. When a specialist considers a text to be unknown, or unpublished, that does not mean more than that he does not remember having ever seen the text before, either in manuscript or in print, or mentioned in the available repertories. Such a thing happens quite often, because the field the specialist is presumed to master is immense, and not infrequently he will consider such a text worth being published. But before doing so, he must make a careful check to
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see if the text has really remained unpublished and if his
initial satisfaction at its discovery has not been due merely to his own
insufficient knowledge. Unfortunately, to make sure is easier said than done,
because quite a large part of MEL literature is hidden in rare books or
periodicals, accessible only with difficulty and not everywhere, and even the
number of repertories of first lines is disappointingly small. At the start of
my career in
Fortunately one is never completely on one's own, and there always are helpful colleagues. To mention just one case of preliminary inquiries of this kind, I'll single out my edition of the Letters in the "Speculum duorum," the "Mirror of Two Persons," by the ever quarrelsome Gerald of Wales.8 This important treatise was mentioned by its author, but it was considered lost, and so I was very glad, and not a little proud, when I discovered it in a Vatican manuscript. Unfortunately--but actually fortunately--I found out in time that the Speculum, though still unpublished, had already been stumbled upon much earlier by a French colleague and that's
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how in the end we joined hands in publishing the whole Speculum.
Sed quis custodiet ipsos custodes, who is going to guard the guardians themselves? Even the most renowned and helpful colleague is not omniscient, and the best proof of this sad admission is the recent publication by Bischoff, in his Anecdota novissima, of an incomplete commentary on the Lord's Prayer, which the heading gives as expositiones Berengarii, and Bischoff as an ineditum of Berengar of Tours; in my opinion, however, the second part of the text has nothing to do with Berengar, whereas the first part (f. 1-2v) is nothing but the introduction to the Confessio of Berengar's contemporary and opponent Guitmund of Aversa, and printed in PL (149,1495-7A).9 Also, shortly before World War II Dom Alban Dold, an important Benedictine scholar, discovered, and prepared for printing, some fragments he wanted to publish in the still equally important Revue Bénédictine; but before doing so, he very wisely tried to ascertain if they were really unknown to the learned world. There was no better way of doing so than to ask Dom Germain Morin, one of the most brilliant patristic scholars of recent times. Dom Morin answered the request, and the answer, which was published in the introduction to the texts in question, is worth quoting (my translation): "I'm satisfied I can assure you that nowhere have I found the slightest trace of these texts, not even where they should have been mentioned almost necessarily, and so you may safely assume they are still unpublished. These fragments really deserve to be made known...." Who would be in any doubt, seeing his own conviction confirmed in such a way by such a famous scholar? Unfortunately, both Dold and Morin overlooked the fact that seventeen years earlier Dom Morin himself had already published the very same texts in the same Revue Bénédictine, from the same Vienna manuscript in which his fellow-Benedictine Alban Dold had just rediscovered them!10 It is only human to make mistakes, and in the words of the author of the biblical Proverbs the just may
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fall no less than seven times and rise again: but that is cold comfort when one discovers too late that what one has published was not at all the precious addition to our treasury of Medieval Latin texts one had thought it was, but merely a reimpression of a work one ought to have known and for the discovery of which the credit is someone else's.
Now texts found in manuscripts either bear an author's name, or are anonymous. In the first case one will have to check if the attribution is correct or may be correct. There are many authors, such as Jerome, Bede, Hrabanus Maurus, Remi d'Auxerre, or Bernard of Clairvaux, whose names inspired such confidence that lots of texts, which they would never even have thought of composing, were attributed to them, because many a scribe could not, or would not, resist the temptation to cover anonymous--or his own--writings under more famous names and thus try to enhance their credibility or assure their survival. In this respect such scribes were not fundamentally different from many philologists of more recent times, who likewise do not give up before they have added an anonymous text they've found to the list of writings of well-known authors. Consciously or unconsciously vanity plays its role here: it's nicer to have one's name associated with famous than with obscure writers, and if one has to lend, then better to the rich. Other criteria lacking, I think one may assume that the manuscript attribution to a certain author becomes more plausible if this author was less well known at the time, or at the place, where the manuscript was written, and certainly there is little ground not to accept what you cannot really prove to be wrong. I am also inclined to lend more credence to long and explicit headings and attributions.11 But really objective criteria are usually lacking, and I myself have suggested a few more attributions than I am now prepared to put my hand into the fire for.
One particular case is worth mentioning here, a case in which morals and textual criticism are confused and in which the author is named and clearly
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visible throughout his work, but nevertheless remained unaccepted as such by quite a few philologists. One of the most curious works of the first half of the twelfth century is the so-called Codex Calixtinus or Liber Sancti Iacobi, a work in honor of the apostle James. In spite of its importance and the prestige of its name, there is still no satisfactory edition because immediately after the appearance of the first comprehensive one, in 1944, nearly all copies were deliberately destroyed by the publisher himself because of its all too apparent shortcomings. The work as a whole consists of five parts, of which IV and V, the Pseudo-Turpin and the Guide for pilgrims to Compostella,12 are the best known; Book I is purely liturgical, II contains the miracles, and III is an account of the translation of the relics to their final resting place. In the preface, the real author has Pope Calixtus II, at that time already twenty some years dead, endorse the authorship, and at the end of the work this pope's second successor, Innocent II, in a letter as clumsily forged as only few papal letters have ever been, gives safe-conduct for two persons to bring the manuscript to Santiago. These two persons are Aimeri Picaud, also called Olivier of Asquins, who, like the already mentioned author of the Chronicle of Vézelay, was a native of Poitou, and his Flemish lady-companion Gerberga. Now if you visit my dear Vézelay, you see the village of Asquins just below you in the plain: it once belonged to the abbey of Vézelay, and it is important to note not only that its church was dedicated to the two James's (Major and Minor), but also that in the already mentioned pilgrim's Guide to Santiago, Vézelay itself is one of the starting points for the long journey. In that same Guide, inhabitants of the Poitou, compatriots of Aimeri Picaud alias Olivier of Asquins, are showered with praise: theirs is a land flowing over with milk and honey, they are not only powerful heroes, courageous warriors, skilful in handling bow and arrows and lances, full of self-confidence, swift as lightning in running, but also elegant in
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dressing, of noble features, witty, generous and most hospitable--all this in marked opposition to the savage inhabitants of Gascogne and, even worse, of Navarre, who, although themselves both tough warriors and hospitable, are at the same time frivolous in talk, garrulous and in love of mockery, voluptuous and debauched, shabbily dressed and continually broke.
All this combined cannot leave any doubt that the compiler of the codex Calixtinus really is Aimeri Picaud himself, also called Olivier of Asquins but formerly from the Poitou.13 His authorship is also mentioned in connection with a single piece at the end of the Codex, a pilgrims' song, which glorifies twenty-two miracles in exactly the same order as they were described earlier in book II. Apart from the author's name, one more detail is revealed, namely that he was a priest, a fact which is understandably passed over in Pope Innocent's safe-conduct for him and his Flemish lady-companion Gerberga. A priest with two names traveling in the company of one woman has been found unacceptable to many over the centuries as if for these reasons the man could not have forged a work like the Codex Calixtinus, as if in twelfth century Burgundy no surnames could have been given to people who came in from other parts of France, and as if celibacy was observed "con amore," so to speak, by the entire clergy. But long ago one of my philological predecessors, one in whose footsteps I would not wish to tread, the Jesuit Juan de Mariana, had already come to the rescue of morally fastidious scholars. He did so by making a resolute conjecture, which has maintained itself until well into our century, and which, in one bold stroke, managed to rob our priest of both his surname and his concubine.14 He did this by making Aimeri Picaud, also called Oliver of Asquins, from one into two persons, of whom the first remained a priest and the second, while quietly carrying on the journey to Santiago, could continue to enjoy the company of the Flemish woman Gerberga without arousing any philologist's anger.
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The problem of the attribution of the texts has of course also a palaeographical aspect. Not only do I take the view, as I have already stated, that many an anonymous text has been attributed on quite insufficient grounds, but also that not seldom is there room for scepticism when we are told, even by professional palaeographers, that in this or that manuscript a text has been written by its author himself. Of course, on the one hand no philologically trained editor can do without sound palaeographical knowledge and thorough experience of handwriting, but on the other, the palaeographer should never lose sight of the fact that to pronounce a manuscript an autograph is ultimately not his but a philologist's responsibility.
Both elements, the
philological and the palaeographical, are eminently united in one manuscript in
the Library of Wolfenbüttel in
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either between the lines, in the margins or on attached strips of parchment, all intend to add weight to the argumentation and venom to its wording. So there can be no doubt that we have here Berengar's own copy, which after his death in 1088 in Saint-Cosme near Tours, miraculously survived and after largely unknown peripeties, finally landed in the splendid H.A. Library in Wolfenbüttel where it was discovered in 1770 by the poet Lessing three days after his appointment as a librarian. Lessing almost jubilantly recognized the text's eminent potential for hurting Catholics and Protestants alike, but he died before he could do so, and it took another 64 years before the first edition became available. The work is invaluable for our knowledge of sacramental doctrine in the eleventh century, although its uncouth Latin does nothing to make up for the sloppy composition and endless repetitions, and the task of editing it is one of real abnegation; but it provides, both in manuscript and in the forthcoming edition I promise an intimate view of the author Berengar and the way he tried to convey his oft condemned convictions. What we see here is the original draft of his reply to his loathed opponent, the unsympathetic Lanfranc, and how his restless hand adds one new argument or invective after the other, erasing passages time and again to rewrite or to displace them to where they might lend additional emphasis in a debate ... which was officially closed, and lost by our author. This manuscript brings nearer to us the dramatic personality of the obstinate cleric, who, silenced in public, till his very last, never ceased to proclaim his truth.
Such contact between author and reader is rare, and remains the privilege of those who seek it. And those who do seek it will always have to go back to the manuscripts. As I said before, this remains an often quite laborious task. But if one realizes how many and various resources the nineteenth and twentieth centuries have put at our disposal, and which were completely unheard of before, one cannot but feel maybe
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grudging, but still very real admiration for many of the
old-time philologists. To them we may safely apply the word in Genesis that
"there were Giants on earth in those days," giants for whom there was
much more opportunity to make discoveries than there is left for us, but who
had to work under much, much harder circumstances. Should we wish to be able to
take their place? Or could they conceivably have wished to take ours? At least
one of them certainly not: no less a scholar than Etienne (Stephen) Baluze, who
died in 1718, has left us, apart from the rich philological output of a
well-spent life, four short lines by way of an epitaph, four short lines but which
say a lot about his experiences: "Here lies Mr. Stephen--he has finished
his job.--In this world he met so much trouble--that nobody expects him ever to
come back."15 It is a bitter conclusion, inspired not only by professional
experience. Had it been, Baluze would have been even more disgusted today. In
this respect, as a Dutch philologist, I cannot but look with envy at the
numerous centers of excellence and learned associations in the
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Notes
1. R.B.C. Huygens, "Editing William of
2. R.B.C. Huygens, "Guillaume de Tyr étudiant," Latomus 21 (1962): 811-829; also in Guillaume de Tyr, Chronique, II, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis 63A (1986): 879-882.
3. R.B.C. Huygens, Guillaume de Tyr, Chronique, I, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis 63 (1985): 79, 87.
4. R.B.C. Huygens, Balduinus Iuvenis, Reynardus Vulpes (
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traduction latine de la branche flamande du Roman de
Renart," in Mélanges Marcel Renart (
5. R.B.C. Huygens, Monumenta Vizeliacensia, Textes relatifs à l'histoire de l'abbaye de Vézelay, Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis 42 (1976), and Supplement: Vizeliacensia II (1980).
6. R.B.C. Huygens, Bernard d'Utrecht, Commentum in Theodolum, Biblioteca degli Studi Medievali VIII (Torino/Spoleto, 1977).
7. R.B.C. Huygens, "Deux sermonnaires médiévaux: Tétère de Mevers et Giraud de Barri. Textes inédits," Studi Medievali (1970): 271-296.
8. Giraldus Cambrensis, Speculum Duorum, or A Mirror of Two Men, ed. Y. Levèvre, M. Richter, and R.B.C. Huygens, translated by B. Dawson (Cardiff, 1974).
9. Fr. Dolbeau, Analecta Bollandiana 104 (1986).
10. R.B.C. Huygens, Revue Bénédictine 51 (1939): 122-138 (137), and 34 (1922): 256-275.
11. R.B.C. Huygens, Sacris Erudiri 16 (1965): 363-367.
12. Jeanne Vielliard, Le Guide du pèlerin de Saint-Jacques de Compostelle, (Mâcon, 1969), op. 16-33.
13. René Louis, Bulletin de la Société nationale des Antiquaires de France (1948-49 [1952]): 3-20.
14. Hunc codicem ... quem Pictavensis Aymericus Picaudus de Partiniaco Veteri, qui (1) etiam Oliverus de Iscani, villa Sanctae Mariae Magdalenae de Viziliaco, dicitur (2), et Girberga Flandrensis socia eius ... Sancto Iacobo Galecianensi dederunt ...: (1) quem Juan de Mariana (2) dicitur om. J. De Mariana.
15. Il gît ici le sire Etienne / il a consommé ses travaux. / En ce monde il eut tant de maux / qu'on ne croit pas qu'il y revienne.
Essays in Medieval Studies 4
[Page numbers of the printed text appear at the right in bold.]
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Advancing in the Knowledge of God: A Comparison of the Thought
of Anselm of Bec and Symeon the New Theologian1
Robert G. Kleinhaus
While Anselm of Bec (1033-1109) and Symeon the New Theologian (944-1022) are not exactly contemporaries, Symeon having died about ten years before Anselm's birth, each stands as a major transitional figure between the Patristic and medieval periods as well as a harbinger of future developments in his respective tradition. James A. Weisheiple views Anselm as one of the outstanding masters of early Scholasticism2 while Jaroslav Pelikan maintains that Symeon laid the foundations for doctrinal implications of Orthodox devotional practice which culminated in the fourteenth-century Palamite controversy.3 Thus each in his respective tradition played a major role in the development of new theological themes which were to influence subsequent theological and doctrinal expression.
What is
particularly interesting is that both Anselm and Symeon address the same topic,
namely how the Christian, or more specifically how the Christian monk, is to
come to deeper knowledge of God. This seems to be one of the controlling themes
of medieval theology in both
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prehension of faith, a journey which is in reality a journey to a fuller vision of God.
Anselm's answer to the question of growth in knowledge of God is quite well known, in tact it has provided Western Christianity with its generic definition of theology, namely, faith seeking understanding. Actually the definition might be better stated as faith seeking understanding through rational and prayerful reflection. Certainly Anselm never envisaged theology as a mere intellectual game which began with presuppositions drawn from faith and proceeded by mental gymnastics to deduce further truths. In his Monologium, Anselm explicitly states that he had been called upon by certain brethren to put in writing meditations on the Being of God4 and the introduction to the Proslogium is an excellent .example of such a prayerful, reflective meditation in which Anselm longs to understand to some degree God's truth which his heart believes and loves.5 Nevertheless, it is clear that for the abbot of Bec the way to a deeper understanding of God is rational reflection on the truths that he as a Christian believes and cherishes. This will become a controlling theme in Western Christian thought.
What is distinctive in Anselm's theology, of course, is the precise form of logical reflection he believes necessary for achieving the fuller illumination so earnestly sought; according to Weisheiple "reason, for him, has the power to discover at its own rational level the necessary connection that gives the truth of faith its objective coherence. That is what he means by understanding what we believe; this is true of the existence of God and it is true of redemption, which we can think out 'as though we knew nothing about Christ.'''6 The search for the necessary connections or necessary reasons why something is true is the means to understanding the realities in which one as a Christian believes.7 It is this method that Anselm applies both to the existence of God and the Incarnation in order to understand them better. Because these realities are, there must be a necessary reason for them to
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be; and, the devout Christian who believes in these realities can come to a deeper understanding of these truths by rationally seeking after and carefully pondering upon the necessary reasons for them.
Subsequent theology in the West will abandon Anselm's particular logic but not his dictum of faith seeking understanding. Theology remains primarily a rational reflection on faith though the concept of what is proper rational reflection greatly changes. In Eastern Christianity, however, theology has quite a different meaning. In Orthodox Christianity a theologian is a mystic who through asceticism has achieved purity in prayer and in a silent gnosis has achieved an understanding of the Word.8 This knowledge for Symeon the New Theologian is associated with the divine light which illuminates each Christian who strives for a deeper knowledge of God. It is faith seeking understanding through personal religious experience, through encounter with divine energy present as divine light which illuminates the person of prayer.
Symeon's journey to deeper knowledge of God is through experience of the Holy Spirit in the depths of the soul. While as Pelikan states, "In the hands of the masters of the spiritual life such as Symeon the New Theologian, apophatic theology produced a refusal to pry into the mysteries of the divine being and a concentration on that which could be known," he also adds that "the positive counterpart to the negation that lay at the basis of apophaticism was the identification of personal religious experience as an epistemological principle in theology."9 He might better have said as the epistemological principle in theology. It must be remembered that Symeon had risked both patriarchal and monastic censure as well as exile to defend his personal veneration of his spiritual father, Symeon the Pius. For Symeon the New Theologian, the example of a pious spiritual father was the norm for theology, not ecclesiastical or monastic authority, still less that of the emperor. As John Meyendorff observes, "The Byzantine Church canonized Symeon the New Theo-
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logian, and generations of Eastern Christians have seen in him the greatest mystic of the Middle Ages. By so doing, Byzantine Christianity has recognized that, in the Church, the Spirit alone is the ultimate criterion of truth and the only final authority."10
For Symeon one must strive for illumination by the Spirit through the asceticism of tears of repentance, of fasting, and of fulfilling the divine commandments, particularly the Beatitudes. Such asceticism prepares one for the illumination of the divine light which results from the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the believer. "Where there is abundance of tears, brethren, accompanied by true knowledge, there also shines divine Light. Where the light shines, there also all good gifts are bestowed and the seal of the Holy Spirit, from whom spring all the fruits of life, is implanted in the heart.''11 Such asceticism does not, of course, cause the illumination but is rather a necessary step to remove the barriers to the illumination which naturally flows from the indwelling of the Holy Spirit in the most intimate depth of the inner being.
For Symeon this light is identified with Christ, Himself. "... when we have kept God's commandments may our hearts be cleansed by tears and penitence, so that from henceforth we may see the divine Light, Christ Himself, and possess Him abiding in us. Through His most Holy Spirit may he feed our souls and keep them alive by making us taste the pleasant sweetness of those benefits of His kingdom."12 The kingdom is the realized experience of Christ's resurrection, for by participating in this enlightenment the soul experiences the results of the resurrection.
For the light-bringing coming of the Spirit shows forth to us as in early morning, the Master's resurrection, or rather, it grants us to see the Risen One Himself.... Those to whom Christ has given light as He has risen, to them He has appeared spiritually, He has been shown
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to their spiritual eyes. When this happens to us through the Spirit He raises us up from the dead and gives us life. He grants to see Him, who is immortal and indestructible. More than that, He grants clearly to know Him who raises us up and glorifies us with Himself, as the divine scripture testifies.13
This is quite a different journey to the deeper knowledge of God than that proposed by Anselm, but it is the journey characteristic of Orthodox Christianity. As Kallistos Ware writes, "The bond between theology and prayer is heavily emphasized in Orthodoxy. Theology is seen not merely as an academic or scholarly puursuit but as preeminently mystical and liturgical.''14 Ives Congar concurs in this judgement, "[Orthodox theology] is not simple intellectual exercise but a call to live in a personal way the truth revealed by Jesus Christ and proclaimed in the faith of the Orthodox church, which draws its life and inspiration from the Holy Spirit. Theoretical knowledge must be integrated with life experience and with prayer that is practiced as part of the church community and its liturgical celebration.''15 It might be more accurate to say not "integrated with life experiences and with prayer" but rooted in life experience and prayer.
In his own
lifetime Symeon had encountered a form of rational search for God in Stephen of
Alexina, Metropolitan of Nicomedia (called Stephen the syncellus [coadjutor],
since he had resigned his metropolitan see and resided in
if you have not found Christ within yourself,
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contrary to all expectation,
if you have not been struck with stupor on
seeing the Divine beauty
and have not forgotten human nature
on seeing yourself completely transformed
how do you not tremble, tell me, to speak of God?
How dare you, you who are completely flesh
and have not yet become spirit, like Paul,
how dare you to philosophize or speak about
what has to do with the Spirit,...17
As Basil Krivocheine observes, "His [Stephen's] theological knowledge was beyond dispute but differed greatly from that of Symeon, which is perhaps the main reason for their dispute. There was a conflict between a learned, scholastic theology removed from the spiritual life yet still formally Orthodox and conservative, and a theology that was understood as expressing the Holy Spirit, one that emphasized how the mystery of God was beyond understanding yet was disclosed through the mystic experience of the saints."18
Certainly Stephen's theology differed from Anselm's in as much as the latter's was rooted in prayer. Nevertheless, the failure of Anselm's definition of the task of theology to root this knowledge in a continual growth of faith through mystical enlightenment seems to open the possibility of a growth in knowledge of God dependant on the human mind's ability to reflect on faith rather than on the experiential enlightenment of the Holy Spirit. This in itself is incompatible with Symeon's thought. The New Theologian stresses that the proper human preparation for deeper knowledge of God rests on repentance and tears rather than rhetoric and philosophy.
Thus as we have seen, Anselm and the Western Christian tradition see rational reflection on faith as the primary mode of increasing the knowledge of God. Thus in this tradition mystics will be judged valid in so far as they conform to what theologians
page 24
find as normative for faith, the presupposition of the organization and functioning of the Inquisition. Symeon and the Eastern Christian tradition see the mystical experience of God as the primary mode of increasing one's knowledge of God, and theology in this tradition is judged as adequate only in so far as it is compatible with and rooted in the experience of the saints in prayer. These are quite different journeys to a deeper knowledge of God and each journey has quite distinctive institutional as well as intellectual ramifications.
The journeys are further distinguished by different preparations, different goals, and different authorities for guides. Concerning preparations for the journey, we can note that in the West stress is put on developing clear reasoning in order to advance in knowledge, while in the East stress is put on asceticism as a necessary prerequisite for increase in knowledge of God. Tears, fasting, and a life of charity are more important than education as preparation for the journey. The Orthodox tradition will never divorce either dogmatic theology from moral theology or ascetical theology from moral theology, since they are too intimately related in the process of growth in the knowledge of God.
The terminus of each journey is also quite distinct. Western Christian theology, as typified by Anselm's ontological argument, seeks to know the divine essence. Eastern Orthodoxy, on the other hand, maintains that the divine essence cannot be known either by reason or by experience. Rather it is in the personal religious experience of prayer that one knows the energies of God but not His essence. In the West the ultimate vision of God, the beatific vision, is one of the essence of God. In the East the ultimate vision is of Christ in whom the Father is also known. Knowledge is of the Tripersonal God and not of the divine nature.
In pursuing the journey each tradition looks for different guides and authorities. In the West reason and the ecclesiastical rational formulation of the faith which becomes the teaching and taught
page 26
doctrine of the church becomes normative for theology and Christian life. In tile East the only ultimate criterion is the experience of God as exemplified in the saints and available to all Christians who undertake the asceticism necessary for the experience of illumination, as Symeon's own experience and his veneration of his spiritual father exemplify.
It is thus clear that Anselm of Bec and Symeon the New Theologian are important not only in their own right but as models of differing orientations which would come to characterize Western and Orthodox Christianity respectively. As such, their differing teachings on the Christian's search for a deeper knowledge of God exemplify a deepening gulf between Latin and Greek Christianity at the beginning of the medieval period. This gulf was more serious than the linguistic and cultural differences which were so obvious. These alternative approaches to faith's growth in knowledge would develop in each tradition till the ethos of either seemed incompatible with the other, a conclusion that the Palamite theologians at the end of the medieval period would not only endorse but articulate and proclaim.
page 26
Notes
1. Part of the research for this paper was undertaken in the 1986 National Endowment for the Humanities's Summer Seminar, "The Journey Symbol in Medieval Mystical Literature," chaired by Ewart Cousins of Fordham University.
2. James A. Weisheiple, "Early Scholasticism." Encyclopedia of Religion. 1987 ed.
3. Jaroslav Pelikan, The Spirit of Eastern Christendom (600-1700). Vol. 2 of The Christian Tradition: A History of the Development of Doctrine (Chicago: U. of Chicago Press, 1974), p. 255.
4. Anselm, Monologium in St. Anselm: Basic Writings.
page 27
Trans. S.N. Deane. 2d ed.
5. Anselm, Proslogium, Ibid., pp. 1-7.
6. Weisheiple, op. cit.
7. Anselm's mode of argumentation can be best understood in light of his Dialogue on Truth in Selections from Medieval Philosophers: Augustine to Albert the Great. Ed. and trans. Richard McKeon (New York: Scribner's, 1929), pp. 150-84. McKeon's brief introduction is also quite helpful, pp. 142-49.
8. See Vladimir Lossky, Orthodox Theology: An Introduction/ Trans. Ian and Ihita Kessarcodi-Watson (Crestwood, New York: St. Vladimir's Seminary Press, 1978), p. 13.
9. Pelikan, op. cit., p. 259.
10. John Meyendorff, Byzantine Theology: Historical Trends and Doctrinal Themes (New York: Fordham University Press, 1974), p. 75.
11. Symeon the New Theologian, The Discourses. Trans. C.J. deCatanzaro. "Classics of Western Spirituality" (New York: Paulist Press, 1980), p. 54.
12. Ibid., pp. 58-59.
13. Ibid., p. 184.
14. Kallistos Ware, "Eastern Christianity," Encyclopedia of Religion. 1987 ed.
15. Yves Congar, "Theology: Christian Theology," ibid.
16. See Hymn 21 in Symeon the New Theologian, Hymns of
Divine Love, trans. George A. Maloney (
17. Symeon, Hymns, pp. 98-99.
18. Krivocheine, op. cit., p. 45.
Essays in Medieval Studies 4
[Page numbers of the printed text appear at the right in bold.]
page 119
Sounds and Sweet Airs: City Waits of Medieval and
Renaissance
Cheryl Glenn Seitz
The isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight ...
The Tempest III, ii, 146
At the close of
the seventeenth century, as the public conscience reacted to the excesses of
the Restoration, and moral reform grew fashionable, tavern keeper Ned Ward
published The London Spy, a Hudibrastic sketch of
We heard a noise so dreadful and surprising that we thought the devil was riding on hunting thro' the City, with a pack of deep-mouth'd hellhounds.... At last bolted out from the corner of a street ... a parcel of strange hobgoblins.... Of a sudden they clap'd [their instruments] to their mouths and made such a frightful yelling that I thought the world had been dissolving and the terrible sound of the last trumpet to be within an inch of my ears.
Under these amazing apprehensions I ask'd my friend what was the meaning of this infernal outcry? "Prithee," says he, "... Why, these are the city waits, who play every winter's night thro' the streets to rouse each lazy drone to family duty! ... These are the topping tooters of the town, and have gowns, silver chains, and salaries, for playing Lilliburlero to my Lord Mayor's horse thro' the city." (Ward 25-26)
page 120
A curious reader of Ward's text who wishes to find out more about these revelers will be hard pressed, for the waits are hardly mentioned in medieval and Renaissance scholarship. And a trip to the Oxford English Dictionary reveals a wide variety of definitions for wait: a watchman, a wind instrumentalist, and the wind instrument itself. In the past forty years, only a handful of articles on wait musicians has been published.1 Recently, however, scholars working on the Records of Early English Drama (REED) have made accessible to us the city records of medieval and Renaissance English towns. These painstakingly collated and edited records provide us with the raw data necessary for accurate-reconstructing the pattern of waits lives and for taking a fresh look at these musicians, not only as individual representatives responsible to a particular community, but as a professional group of multitalented musicians who shared a larger civic and social tradition.2
All surviving guild, civic, and church records (1450-1675) contain numerous and intriguing references to the waits: as municipal employees, the city waits guaranteed that music, and often drama, would be a part of every civic and ceremonial occasion. The evidence of the earliest accounts, suggests that the history of these professional musicians can be traced back to the watchmen of castles and walled towns who, during hours of darkness when nobody else was allowed abroad, patrolled the streets or stood guard in the watch towers, prepared to defend the townsfolk from fires, from prowlers, or from surprise attacks. One of the first references to waits occurs in the Liber Niger Domus Regis Angliae, a 1483 account of the household establishment of Edward IV (1461-1483), which contains instructions to a typical wait in a nobleman's castle:3
A WAYTE, that ny3tly, from Mighelmasse til Shere Thursday, pipeth the wache within this court iiij tymes, and in the somer ny3ghtes ... iii tymes; and he is to make bon gayte,4 and euery
page 121
chambre dore and office, as well for fyre as for other pikers or perelliz. (Myers 132)
: Although their history can be traced back to the watchmen, the later waits were not considered efficient in protecting the citizens from night marauders. Scholars concur that the position of wait soon evolved from watchman with a noisemaker to that of a versatile, highly skilled musician. Walter Woodfill's convincing argument sheds more light on the subject: by the sixteenth century, the primary duty of a wait was to entertain, even while he kept his so-called watch. In Musicians in English Society, Woodfill contends:
the constabulary ... must have done far more to keep order than the musicians, whose playing must have warned housebreakers and brawlers of their approach. The waits, instead of weapons, carried valuable instruments and insignia easily lost, damaged, or even stolen in a scuffle. (45-46)
Musicianship, then, not strength or agility, was the principal quality required of a candidate for a city wait, at least from about 1550 on, when the position of wait was fully defined and firmly established.
Since no history
of the waits based on a full study of the available sources had been
published,5 and since civic records are not "complete," we cannot yet
establish when these musical retainers were first appointed by civic
authorities. We can, however, establish the "first mention" in each
locale. The
Leet Book I
... thei haue retained Mathew Ellerton Thomas Sendell William howton & Iohn Trumpere Mynstrells as for the Cite of Couentre and þat
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þei haue as oþer haue Afore them Allso þat thai aue of euery
hall place j d & of euery Cottage ob. euery quarter & after þer beryng
better to be rewardyd And also þai orden þat thei shall haue ij men of euery
ward euery quarter to help them gathur þer Quarterage. (REED
It seems that, like other waits before them, Sendell, Howton, and Trumpere had a standard license to collect a tax for their salary; there was as yet no direct town subsidy for their support.
In
Following in the tradition of the earlier, roving night watchmen, the waits retained the ritual--but not the original protective--function of a musical procession about the streets of town as one of their primary duties. That the typical orders of waits speak of playing morning and evening but say nothing of "the dead time of night" or of "night walkers and robberies" (Woodfill 76) indicates that, for the waits, these watches had lost all of their original protective function:
Mayors List 5
April-November 1540:
page 123
... wherby it is ordeyned that form hensforth euery sonday monday tuysday thursday and saturday the said waits shall goo About and play in the evenyng in such circuite placys and Owres as hath beyn accustomed in tymes past / And euery monday thursday & saturday in the mornyng they shall goo and play in lyke maner / And this rule and ordre to be kept contynually heraftur except that speciall sickenes or extreme weddur lett theym or ellz that Appon some other their resonable sute to be moved vnto the Mair....10
Apparently, the waits were to play at hours that were neither disturbing to the townsfolk nor inconvenient for themselves--and at times when their fingers were not numb with cold. "In other words," writes Woodfill, "not during the hours when watchmen are most needed" (77).
Like the records
of other towns, the
Mayors' Court Books VI
3 May 1553:
This daye It is Agreed by this house that the waytes of the
cittie shall haue libertye and lycens every Sondaye at nighte and other holly
dayes at nighte bytwixte this and Michaelmas nexte comyng to come to the
guyldehall And vppon the nether leades of the same hall nexte the counsaill
house shall betwixte the howres of vii & viij of the clok at nighte blowe
& playe vppon their Instrumentes the space of haulf and hower to the
Reyoysing and comforte of the herers thereof. (REED
The
page 124
several towns, however, these musical recitals fell into remission during the dangerous fever of the plague (ca.1600), but they reappeared, only to die out from the even more deadly fever of puritanism in 1629. These Sunday evening offerings were vulnerable for two other reasons: their purpose was merely and solely entertainment, and the records indicate that the waits received the same annual base salary, regardless of their concert playing.
In addition to
marching and playing, the waits soon assumed the duties of all-round corporate
musicians, glorifying the city and entertaining the townsfolk whenever and
wherever music was desired. For example, during the elaborate annual ceremonies
inaugurating the Lord Mayor, the waits--especially in
Perhaps the most
intoxicating of their public duties was welcoming and entertaining
distinguished, often royal, visitors. In
page 125
House Books
Also it is agreed that the waits shall play at Micklithbarr
at the receiveing of tile kinges maiestie to this cittye, and after they shall
have done ther then ... to go over the Water at lendinge & thorowe the
mintgarth to Bartholomew Applebyes house and so to Bowthome barr, and that ther
shalbe a scafeild maide within Barr for them to stand and playe on. (REED
The
These municipal
musicians were called upon to provide public spectacle and ceremony at other
times of celebration as well: Christmas, Coronation Day, Annunciation Day,
Guild Day, Perambulation Day, Thanksgiving, Michaelmas, Defeat of the Spanish
Fleet Day. Throughout their history, the waits entertained on the saints' days
as well, depending on the number of days a Catholic or an Anglican England
would feel compelled to honor. For such outdoor performances, the waits used
woodwind and brass instruments supplied by their city, robust instruments such
as trumpets, sackbutts, hautbois, recorders, cornets, and drums. Since there
was hardly a sport or festival that did not have music as part of it, the waits
had no trouble finding outside employment as they met many other musical
demands. The well-to-do could afford the honor of the waits' entertainment;
that each "appearance" was profitable to the waits should not be
overlooked. They were talented, motivated, and busy. They seemed to be
everywhere, performing at social and religious events. Found in all the
available guild, civic, and church records are entries of payments to the waits
for their "pains" on such festival days as
page 126
Besides their civic musical duties, the waits appeared--with the blessing of the civic authorities--at weddings, at funerals, and at private parties. For the amusement of private patrons, the waits often played "indoor" instruments--viols, violins, virginals, lutes, citherns, harps, flutes--that they provided for themselves. In Popular Music of the Olden Time, W. Chappell tells us that on a wedding day, the duties of the waits included awaking the bride with "bon gayte," entertaining her to and from church, furnishing music at the wedding dinner, and providing for singing, dancing, and merrymaking throughout the evening. Even at funerals musicians were in request; the waits sang dirges and played their reedy, soulful recorders as a solace for grief.14 The REED documents provide us with further instances of the waits' involvement in private entertainment:
Cordwainers and Shoemakers' Records
11 November [1572]:
Item payde vnto the menstreles at Rawfie hylltons drynkynge xii d. (REED Chester 94)
Coopers' Records
20 November [1573]:
Item spende on the Menstrelles at Iohn Ioanson maryge iiij d. (REED Chester 99)
In short, the waits were the woof of the town's fabric, crossing at right angles the warp of daily, weekly, and seasonal activities and, thereby, creating a pleasing pattern of life.
And just as they
did for all these public and private occasions, it was these professional
corporation musicians--not the church musicians--who supplied most of the music
required in the civic-religious dramatic activity and festivity.15 At York,
Chester, Norwich, and other cities where civic religious drama was performed,
waits supplied the essential music for the cycle plays. At
page 127
to the performances of the city waits on Corpus Christi Day;
at
E Memorandum Book
Fynallie it is further ordeyned and by the consent of all
the good men of the said art of Sciens fullie agreed that the said fellowship
of minstrells of ther proper cherges shall yearelie frome hensforth when the
play shalbe played bringe furth and cawese to be plaied the pagiant of corpus
christi.... (REED
Painters, Glaziers, Embroiderers, and Stationers' Records
for Whissone playes.... Item payde to the mynstryles ij s. (REED Chester 91-92)
According to the Mayor's Court Book, the waits of
Craved that they myght haue leve to playe commodies ... and
[act] vupn Interlutes souch other ... places and tragedies which shall seine to
them mete, which Peticion by the hole concent of this courte is graunted to
them so farre as they do not play in the tyme of devine service and Sermones. (REED
In addition, the House Book of York indicates that the waits were granted permission in 1561 to "yerely bryng forth the pageant of herod Inquyryng of the iii kynges for the child Iesu" (REED York).
All references to waits indicate that they led extremely busy lives. There are even instances of waits who combined music with other trades, as innkeepers, water-bailiffs, tailors, weavers, blade-smiths, and barbers. But those instances are not so common; most managed to support themselves well by music alone. They would not have--could not have--
page 128
spent a major span of their life working as civil servants if they had not been able to so support themselves.
Because the waits
were such an integral part of community life, most towns found some means to
ensure theirs with a guaranteed yearly income. In their heyday, the waits of
In early medieval
As part of their contract with the city, town waits were provided distinctive liveries,17 costly badges, and valuable "outdoor" instruments. The liveries, supplied semiannually, biennially, or annually, appear to have been "for keeps," but the badges, collars, and chains were loaned to the waits on bond only for the term of their contract, as were
page 129
their instruments. In fact, in many towns, these expensive
silver adornments and the town's musical instruments were accounted for
annually in the city's inventory of goods. Their "chains" were
usually escutcheons, or large metal badges enameled with the town device, and
chains or "collars" with which to hang them.18 The few examples of
this regalia in existence were rescued from the fires of the Municipal
Corporations Act, which swept through England in 1835.19 Kindling for the
flames of radical reform, many of these badges were auctioned off as outdated
symbols of papist pageantry.20 Probably the most apparent of the waits' fringe
benefits was their protected status. By wearing the livery of a town--a clear
mark of distinction, achievement, and pre-ferment--the waits were ensured good
welcome and higher rewards wherever they traveled, so long as they behaved in a
respectable and honest manner. And travel they did. Those waits who had leave to
journey often went "on tour" in search of or to fulfill other job
opportunities. On the occasion that a nobleman, a gentleman, or a town official
summoned the waits of another town, home-town officials could hardly forbid
their waits to absent themselves. In the 1622 records of
In 1589, the five
waits of Norwich, considered by some scholars to have been unparalleled in all
the realm, achieved unique distinction when they were invited to accompany Sir
Francis Drake and Sir John Norris on what would be the ill-fated voyage to
Lisbon.22 As Alfred Noyes would write, Drake invited them "not from
vanity, / But knowing how the pulse of men beats high /To music; and the hearts
of men like these / Were open to the high romance of earth" (267). Drake's
letter of request to the corporation of
page 130
Mayors' Court Books XII
This day [it is agreed] was redd in the court A letter sent to mr Maior and his brethren form Sir ffrauncys Drake wherby he desyreth that the waytes of this Citie may bee sent to hym to go the new intendid voyage .... the waytes beeyng here called doo all [therto] assent whervpon it is agreed that they shall haue vj cloakes of Stamell cloath made them redy before they go And that A wagon shalbe provided to carry them and their instruments And that they shall haue iiij li. to buye them [certeyn] "Three" new howboyes "& one treble Recorder" and x li. to beare their chardgys And that the citie shall hyer the wagon and paye for it Also that the Chamberleyn shall paye Peter Spratt x s for A [Sackbutt] Saquebutt Case And the waytes to delyuer to the Chamber-leyn before they go the Cities cheanes/ (REED Norwich 93)
The waits thus can
be seen to have held an elevated and enviable position in medieval and
Renaissance society. Besides a cash income, a livery, and prestige, a wait
enjoyed divers fringe benefits, not the least of which was a pension for his
dependents and for himself. For example, Widow Spratt of
Assembly Minute Books V
whereas there was hertofore grauted to Peter Spratt an annuttie of iiij li. payeable quarterly by even porcions to the said Peter And whereas the said Peter dyed of late a little before the ende of a quarter fully expired. It is agreed neuertheles that his wiffe shall enjoye & be paid xx s for the said quarter/23
The REED records of
page 131
old-age pensions; waits who were "lyinge sick" took sick leave:
House Books
Assembled acceptid and admittid ... Robert sheyne being in
so grete age and soo decrepid that he may no forther attend toccupacion of
waite ... In consideracion of wheof and of the long continued seruice that he
haithe done in ... the space if .xl. yeres and more It is determined that the
saide Robert Sheyne yerely during his life ... shalhaue in name of a pension
... thertene shelinges and ... four penys tobe payde wharterly without
deley.... (REED
The
Undoubtedly, many musicians aspired to live the financially secure and comfortable life of a wait, but competition was keen and requirements were
page 132
stiff. They were expected to perform expertly on several instruments and to compose music as well. At times of royal visits and pageants, they also apparently tailored their pageantry to the occasion, performing both their original songs and interludes. Often they were called upon to support the cantus firmus in the local church, either by singing or by playing their instruments. That they had to be able to read music (pricksong) goes without saying. In the .private sector, the waits often also served as music teachers and as dancing masters. The Treasurers' Account Rolls of November 1613 show that wait George Callie "hath heretofore and at his presente professed musicke and the arte and facultie of teaching to daunce" (REED Chester 290). Thus, in every way, a wait was the consummate musician.
Indeed, the waits
were on to a good thing, and they used monopolistic practices to ensure their
hold on their jobs. The available civic records are fraught with the successful
endeavors of various groups of waits to protect their livelihoods. The waits
had united, like the tailors and butchers, to form the Worshipful Company of
Musicians,25 which denied the right of any outsider (with the exception of
royal or noble players) to perform, to teach, or to receive pay for any activity
relating to music. In
The waits had considerable job security, for they were employed for terms of "life or pleasure,"
page 133
unless, of course, they were found to be unsuitable, which occasionally they were. The House Books of York, for example, record the ousting of the city wait for "vnthrify gamyng" (REED York 333):
Assembled in the Consell Chambre ... the day & yere abovesaid whan & wher / the common waytes of this citie for their mysdemeanour / are discharged of their office ./ And haue presently delyuered in their Syluar Coilers to the Chambrelaynes and one Shalme / (REED York 348)
It must have been
especially painful to the gifted musician longing for an appointment as a wait,
knowing that his skill and talent were not enough, knowing that unless he was a
wait, he could not earn money from his music. In most cases, the waits came up
through the ranks of apprenticeship, an entry-level position. And like the
union operations of the Bath Iron Works of today, for example, the best way for
a young man to obtain and maintain such an apprenticeship was to be related to
an incumbent wait. In fact, in the
page 134
Clearly, the
waits were exceptional, highly visible civic musicians, but one wonders if
they--even the distinguished
Passing the gate ... I got ... into the open market place.
Where on the ccross, ready prepared, stood the Citty Waytes, which not a little
refreshed my wearines with toyling thorow so narrow a lane as people left me:
such Waytes (under Benedicite be it spoken) fewe Citties in our Realme have the
like, none better. Who besides their excellency in wind instruments, their rare
cunning on the Vyoll and Violin: theyr voices be admirable, everie one of
the[m] able so serve in any
Despite Kemp's report, the waits did not enjoy a divine dispensation; they were, instead, a familiar but significant part of daily life. It is tempting to forget that the waits were merely human beings, their only fortune being their music. Like everyone else who took breath m medieval and Renaissance England, they had their faults and their troubles. Interspersed in the records are tantalizing tidbits of life behind the livery. In the Nottingham records, for example, there is mention of public bickering among the waits that led to a showdown: in 1632, three of the waits "bought out,'' for the enormous sum of twenty pounds, the contract of the other, discordant wait (Coldewey 42). Among the records are accounts of waits who gambled (REED York 333), waits who argued (REED Coventry 437), and waits who disappeared (REED Chester 280). But references to praise and admiration of the waits far outweigh the mentions of disciplinary action.
That the waits played an integral part of the
page 135
civic and social fabric of society cannot be denied. They were popular performers, part of the retinue of the mayor, who added picturesqueness and vivacity to civic and religious ceremonies--more evidence that the artistic life of the time was conducted on a high level. And because they entertained on countless occasions, the long history of their sweet musicmaking represents a colorful pattern in the tapestry of medieval and Renaissance life.
[For the online reader's convenience, the list of Works Cited (pp. 135-36 in the printed edition) appears at the end of the notes, where the page numbers are out of sequence.]
page 137
Notes
1. A search of the relevant literature reveals only four
articles; see
2. Lawrence M. Clopper, who uses waits and minstrels interchangeably, as did the original record keepers of Chester, writes: "Minstrels seem to have been present at every ceremonial and social function in the city ... election days, meetings, dinners, and drinkings, on feast days like Corpus Christi when there was a procession, and ... in the Whitsun Plays" (REED Chester lix). The State Papers of Henry VIII include this entry: 1540-1, To the Waytes or Mynstrelles At Chester ij s. (REED Chester 44) William Kelly writes: "Most of the corporate towns also had their companies of minstrels, termed waits ... (125) possessed their bands of minstrels or 'waits' ..." (131).
3. Alluded to in both primary and secondary sources, needing to be fully explained--but unfortunately beyond the scope of this paper--is the entire world of waits, the waits of all European towns as well as the waits of noble and royal households. For an overview of Stadtpfeifer, the German town piper, see both the New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians and the article by Annaliese Downs. The REED documents and the available household accounts are replete with mentions of payments to and entertainments by the waits of other towns and of both royal and noble households.
4. I.e., by awaking people with soft music at their chamber doors; see Bridge (64).
5. The most comprehensive study of any waits is Stephens'
article, "The Waits of the City of
page 138
sources that the waits existed during the first half of the fifteenth century. See Coldewey (41-41, 48, n.5).
6. Walter L. Woodfill based his chapter "The Waits of
London" on manuscripts in the archives of the city of
8. See Coldewey (41, 48, n. 10).
9. Bridge places the earliest
10. REED
11. For a descriptive fist of Lord Mayors pageants in
12. Janssen states that around 1550, the waits of
13. The REED documents provide us with innumerable examples of the waits' involvement, for example: Carpenters' Account Book I 1454:
page 139
Item paid to Mynstrels for Corpus christi day Midsomer night & seint petir nyghs ij s viij d. (REED Coventry 28); City Chamberlains' Books 1554: Item payd to the waites for Rydyng & playng before St George and the play xx d. (REED York 318).
14. In their private and public celebrations, the waits proved to be composers not only of music but of words to accompany the music as well. By connecting epideictic oratory with contemporary Renaissance music, they drew upon a venerable bond: that between rhetoric and poetics.
15. Given the information available at the time (1928), it
is not surprising that Bridge declared: "Although Chester was the home of
one of our greatest series of Miracle plays, the waits were not much employed
as the city could draw on a large fraternity of minstrels and the musicians
form the monastery" (81). Bridge's conclusion has been corrected by new
data, specifically the REED Chester volume, where we can see specific entries
both to waits and to "the minstrels" on Corpus Christi Days. In the
16. G.T. Salisbury, Street Life in Medieval
17. Scholars are divided on the colors and the cut of
page 140
the various liveries. For a full description of them, see
Woodfill, Bridge, Langwill, and the introduction to REED's
18. For a complete description of the various silver collars, see Woodfill (89-90), Bridge (75-76, 78), and Langwill (175-76).
19. For a full statement of this act, see G. M. Young and W. D. Handcock (190-93).
21. Among the eight groups of musicians and players
accounted for in this record, for example, are the following: Chamberlains' and
Wardens' Account Book II,
page 141
23. REED
24. When they finally lost their lease, for not taking care
of their rented properties, each of the
25. The Worshipful Company of Musicians was established before 1500. For a comprehensive discussion, see Woodfill (5) and Robert W. Wienpahl (153, n. 13). In exchange for a granted monopoly, waits were often prevented from traveling abroad to other towns to earn extra money; they were expected to remain in the service of their town.
26. The following entry from Norwich supports the notion that a wait is a "roguish minstrel" only when he is not at home: Mayors' Court Books XV, 17 May 1617: Thomas Spratt Minstrell havinge A wife in Colchester ys ordered forthwith to depart this Cytty & not returne to make abode here at any tyme hereafter or to vse the roagishe life of Minstrelsey vpon payne of being punished as A vagrant./(REED Norwich 150)
27. The common council ordered that the waits be admitted freemen of the fellowship of minstrels without any charge. Until that ruling, the fellowship had forbidden the waits to occupy, buy, or sell in the city because they were not admitted freeman in the minstrels' "craft." It was a "Catch-22" situation: unless they were freemen, they would never be wealthy enough to buy their freedom. See
page 142
Woodfill (40, n.9).
28. The following entry is representative of many attesting
to the personal integrity of the municipal Musicians: House Books, 25 June
1557: And now Robert Husthwait by this presens is taken to ... be mete to remain
one of the common waytes of this Citie vpon his good behaviour & dyligens.
(REED
page 135
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