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John Blow’s Venus and Adonis and George Frederic Handel’s Acis and Galatea both feature a female protagonist who ends the opera lamenting love rent asunder by her male partner’s departure or death. To an extent, the weeping of the... more
John Blow’s Venus and Adonis and George Frederic Handel’s Acis and Galatea both feature a female protagonist who ends the opera lamenting love rent asunder by her male partner’s departure or death. To an extent, the weeping of the abandoned woman is a stock device for the opera librettist, often inspiring powerful expressions of pathos, such as Monteverdi’s celebrated Lamento d’Arianna. However, the women who stand at the centre of the two English music dramas named above do much more than simply draw forth our tears with lamentation (though each does just that exquisitely). In both cases, librettist and composer give their female leads great nuance of character, exploring and depicting their motivations and passions with considerable subtlety, so that, when the moment finally comes for her to pour out the pain of her broken heart, the protagonist elicits our sympathy as a fully rounded character, not merely a faceless vehicle for ‘feminine’ pathos.

This thesis explores the manner in which each of these operas realises and characterises its female lead (Venus, goddess of love, and the nymph Galatea). There will be a particular focus on the relationship between libretto and music, as well as upon the various musical idioms and devices used by the composers to represent different facets of their female protagonists’ personalities, calling attention to how these composers might have intended their respective protagonists to be understood. The two characterisations will also be compared and contrasted with each other, as well as with other prominent female operatic protagonists of the period, including the central character of what may be the best-known and most highly respected English opera, Henry Purcell’s Dido and Aeneas.
William Boyce’s serenata Solomon was composed in 1742, and, as a setting of well-known pastoral poetry in an identifiably ‘English’ musical style, it was very much in keeping with contemporary trends (Arne’s Comus (1738) and Handel’s... more
William Boyce’s serenata Solomon was composed in 1742, and, as a setting of well-known pastoral poetry in an identifiably ‘English’ musical style, it was very much in keeping with contemporary trends (Arne’s Comus (1738) and Handel’s L’Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato (1740) had only recently entered the London concert repertoire). Solomon quickly became popular with the British and Irish public, and remained so until the end of the eighteenth century.

For Charles Burney, Comus began ‘an æra in English music’, with a ‘natural’ vocal style largely founded upon melodic simplicity and certain characteristics of word-setting. Is Solomon exemplary of this ‘æra?’ Amid the concert-going public’s enthusiasm for ‘natural’ vocal melody, what is it about Boyce’s serenata that caused contemporary critics to praise it as ‘elegant and sublime’? As I will argue, a key factor is the word-setting, which allows Edward Moore’s vivid and lyrical (at times even racy) libretto to be understood clearly, and occupies something of a middle ground between Arne’s folk-like simplicity in Comus and Handel’s more sophisticated pastoralism in L’Allegro.

This study examines the techniques Boyce used in setting this libretto to music, with a particular focus on musical word-stress and the manner in which rhyme and lineation are illuminated or, occasionally, disguised by the setting. It also explores the literary heritage of the libretto and the expression of erotic sentiment in the setting. By this investigation, I hope to place this piece within the larger context of mid-eighteenth-century musico-poetics, and to posit some explanations for its popularity with audiences of its time.
George Frideric Handel’s English-language works were immensely popular with the eighteenth-century public, and many remain staples of concert repertoire today. Important research exists on the philosophical import of the texts for these... more
George Frideric Handel’s English-language works were immensely popular with the eighteenth-century public, and many remain staples of concert repertoire today. Important research exists on the philosophical import of the texts for these works, and on the oratorio-listener as reader, but it focusses on a small part of the composer’s English output, while musico-linguistic analysts have neglected eighteenth-century English music in general.

Addressing these understudied areas, the aim of this thesis is two-fold. First, to apply recent models of musico-linguistic analysis to Handel’s English output as a whole, in combination with aesthetic commentary of the period. Secondly, to investigate the dissemination of these libretti as wordbooks without music, published copies independent of musical scores, and other sources offering the text a potential for appreciation parallel to (or separate from) music.

When writing texts for Handel, what decisions did poets make regarding verse form, rhyme scheme, and metre? What input did the composer have in this process? How did his music reflect the formal nuances of the finished libretto? Musico-linguistic analysis offers new perspectives on such issues, illuminating the deeply collaborative nature of these works. Furthermore, while Handel’s English word-setting is often criticised for unidiomatic prosody, I explore counterintuitive stressing as a fruitful tension between musical and verbal communication. Handel’s librettists are frequently dismissed as mediocre poets, merely providing frameworks for music. I argue that audiences’ engagement with the published texts of Handel’s English works formed a more integral part of their musical experience than has previously been acknowledged. Through the concept of reader-listenership, I explore the literate nature of eighteenth-century music-consumption, including the reading of a libretto before and during its performance, of stage directions for a music-drama always intended to be unstaged, and of a poetic text whose formal and semantic implications could conflict with those realized in performance.
https://dublinmusicologyco.wixsite.com/dubmusco/post/the-five-canons-of-rhetoric Most of us struggle with some aspect of the writing process. How to start, how to order our points, how to communicate those points in a clear, concise,... more
https://dublinmusicologyco.wixsite.com/dubmusco/post/the-five-canons-of-rhetoric 

Most of us struggle with some aspect of the writing process. How to start, how to order our points, how to communicate those points in a clear, concise, and persuasive manner, or (more generally) how to write in a consistent ‘voice’ and suitable style? This article aims to help with some such difficulties, drawing on a time-honoured framework that has been useful to writers for over two thousand years: the five canons of rhetoric.


Like many terms, ‘canon’ means different things depending on context: strictly imitative polyphony, a set of highly admired works, a set of plot-points confirmed in a specific way. In rhetoric, the ‘canons’ are five steps followed when constructing an argument. They aren’t the only way to approach that task; but they can provide at least one useful lens through which to understand our writing, and even that of others.
PREPRINT/MANUSCRIPT; for full, typeset version, see <https://www.baerenreiter.com/en/shop/product/details/BVK4027/> In his essay ‘Words and Music: Incongruity and Irony in Handel’, from the 2022 Händel-Jahrbuch, Colin Timms explores... more
PREPRINT/MANUSCRIPT; for full, typeset version, see <https://www.baerenreiter.com/en/shop/product/details/BVK4027/>

In his essay ‘Words and Music: Incongruity and Irony in Handel’, from the 2022 Händel-Jahrbuch, Colin Timms explores Handel’s reuse of music for texts with different, sometimes even antithetical, messages. Following Timms’s observations (by his kind invitation), the following essay examines in detail a single aria not addressed in his study, noting that the aria’s text mirrors and even inverts the content of the text its music originally set, showing that Handel may well have conceived the new version as a sort of ironic in-joke, possibly for the amusement of no one but himself and perhaps his collaborators.


Between late 1749 and early 1750, Handel scored the masque or semi-opera Alceste, an adaptation of the ancient Greek tragedy by Euripides.  The spoken text, by Tobias Smollett, is lost, but the words for singing may have been partly or wholly by Thomas Morell, a frequent librettist collaborator of Handel’s. For reasons not definitively known, the production never reached the stage, but Handel would later incorporate the music into revivals of Alexander Balus and Hercules.  His most substantial attempt to salvage his labour on Alceste, however, was The Choice of Hercules, a one-act oratorio whose score (composed in mid-1750) contains a fair amount of freshly composed material, but also incorporates almost every movement from Alceste, mostly in adapted forms (although sometimes only minimally adapted), and almost always with new text (although in a few cases not even that).


This essay focusses on ‘Lead, Goddess, lead the Way’, the titular character’s second and final aria in The Choice of Hercules, in which he declares his intention to reject Pleasure and follow Virtue so that he can ultimately ascend to godhood.  The issue of irony arises when we observe that the aria’s musical source in Alceste is ‘Ye fleeting shades, I come’, in which Charon, ferryman of the River Styx, commands souls of the recently deceased to hurry up so that he can row them over the river into the underworld (that is, the afterlife). Table 1 gives the texts of the two arias.
While most English texts set by Handel are metrical poetry, a few anthem and oratorio librettos, including Messiah, comprise direct quotations from English versions of the Bible devoid of metre. Such texts are traditionally viewed as... more
While most English texts set by Handel are metrical poetry, a few anthem and oratorio librettos, including Messiah, comprise direct quotations from  English versions  of the Bible devoid of metre. Such texts are traditionally viewed as prose, but I argue that they are poems, organised by the systematic use of rhetorical parallelism. This paper explores the impact of parallelism on Handel's vocal writing and examines the ways in which he realised or subverted it. Since parallelism is a type of repetition, I argue that the repeating of words and textual phrases is an expressive and rhetorical device and that parallelism is a lens through which to understand the word-patterns that emerge from Handelian song. And since parallelism often involves sameness of meaning, I suggest that its treatment represents an interpretative decision,  making the study of that treatment a useful hermeneutic tool for musicologists.
In recent popular music traditions (including pop and rock songs, showtunes, and many soundtracks for video games, films, and television series), melodies usually range roughly from 1̂ to 1̂, or 5̂ to 5̂. While twenty-first-century music... more
In recent popular music traditions (including pop and rock songs, showtunes, and many soundtracks for video games, films, and television series), melodies usually range roughly from 1̂ to 1̂, or 5̂ to 5̂. While twenty-first-century music theorists rarely explore this fact, ready-made terminology does exist for dealing with such stereotyped range. In the Middle Ages, melodic range of approximately 1̂ to 1̂ was termed ‘authentic ambitus’, while roughly 5̂ to 5̂ was identified as a ‘plagal ambitus’ (Mead 2007).
Medieval modal theory is a contentious field, especially when invoked outside the study of monophony (Powers 1990), and this paper makes no attempt to impose it wholesale on the popular music of our own time. Neither do I wish to ignore the frequent difficulty of even identifying a tonic in such repertoire, an issue with which numerous analysts certainly have engaged (Richards 2017). This paper does, however, propose modal ambitus (of some kind) as an element in the grammar of popular music, a valuable lens for analysis, and a surprisingly consistent compositional parameter (albeit one likely known only tacitly to practitioners).
Drawing from a large corpus of melodies, this paper illustrates various ways in which ambitus can clarify or interestingly complicate the sense of a pitch’s tonicity within a song. It argues that attention to ambitus can allow finer analytical distinction between and within songs than would be possible through tonic- or scale-identification alone, revealing significant formal and expressive nuance in the choice of ambitus within the same scale on the same tonic (two songs might share a key but not an ambitus, or a single song may effect striking ambitus-shift while remaining in one key, with plagal verses and authentic choruses). And it suggests applicability for the ambitus concept to a broad array of genres within and beyond the broad umbrella of ‘popular’ music, complementing research like that of Malawey (2020) on the popular singing voice and addressing (in however small a way) the relative neglect of melodic analysis in favour of harmony and other parameters (Aldridge and Aldridge 2008).
Rhetorical figures have been studied for millennia, but that study has not been consistent, comprehensive, or even very coherent. Many individual and occasional school efforts have been made at theoretically informed classifications... more
Rhetorical figures have been studied for millennia, but that study has not been consistent, comprehensive, or even very coherent. Many individual and occasional school efforts have been made at theoretically informed classifications (Melanchthon 2001/1531; Peacham 1977/1593; Groupe Mu 1981), but often in competition with each other, not in cooperation. The resulting hodge-podge of names, patterns, and partially integrated, partially conflicting frameworks is clearest from Silva Rhetoricae (Burton 2016), an admirably thorough compendium of 433 distinct figures.

Less obvious from that compendium, however, are the gaps in the tradition, patterns that satisfy figurative criteria but have been conflated with other figures or not studied at all. A preeminent example is what Harris and Di Marco (2017) call the “chiastic suite,” a set of seven figures involving inverse repetition of linguistic constituents, but traditionally treated as a single figure. Expressions like (1), “Quitters never win, and winners never quit,” are routinely said to exhibit the same figure as (2), “All for one and one for all.” But (1) inversely repeats lexical stems (quit, win) while a morpheme (-er) stays in place (the structure is AmBBmA); (2) inversely repeats full lexemes (ABBA).

Neither have expressions like (3) “And he shall purify. And he shall purify the sons of Levi” (Handel 1742) been accounted for in the figurative tradition. They resemble anadiplosis (|AB|BC), but have a distinctive |A|AB structure, one that is common not only in the Baroque vocal tradition from which this example comes, but in many artforms from many times and places. So it, too, merits both figurative status and a name. We propose recommencio (‘recommencement’). (3)’s A is syntactically well-formed in isolation, but acquires new meaning from the added object, B, when repeated. This is a kind of syntactic antanaclasis, one we call recommencio recomplens (‘recommencement recompleting’). On other occasions, A is syntactically ill-formed (exhibits anacoluthon) on first appearance, only becoming well-formed on second, thanks to B’s addition: (4) ‘In speed you can outdo— In speed you can outdo the winged wind’ (Purcell 1906/1690). Recommencio complens (‘recommencement completing’).

Drawing on data similar to (1) through (4), we show that the formulation of ‘new’ figures can substantially strengthen rhetoric’s analytical explanatory power, and its viability for future research.

Legend:
A, B, C, etc. = identical lexical strings, from an individual stem to an arbitrary but finite number of lexemes
m = identical morpheme strings, from one to an arbitrary but finite number
| = sentence boundary
Handel’s music is strikingly inconsistent in how it accents the word ‘Hallelujah’, apt to assign a phrase’s strongest beat (and highest and/or longest note, and/or melisma) to any one of that word’s four syllables. Given that the composer... more
Handel’s music is strikingly inconsistent in how it accents the word ‘Hallelujah’, apt to assign a phrase’s strongest beat (and highest and/or longest note, and/or melisma) to any one of that word’s four syllables. Given that the composer is well-known for setting the word in English-language contexts (the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus from Messiah being by far his best-known piece), it is tempting to dismiss the inconsistency as simple uncertainty about the word’s English pronunciation; as so often happens, however, ‘Handel’s ignorance of English’ proves an inadequate explanation for the facts.

Firstly, the composer’s treatment of ‘Hallelujah’ is not just inconsistent across his output (that is, between pieces); he almost always accents the word at least two different ways per individual movement, and while this could be interpreted as bet-hedging, it seems more like a deliberate choice. Neither is the inconsistency peculiar to his English-language settings; it prevails whatever the language of the surrounding text, and in music that he wrote before ever coming to England. And perhaps most interestingly of all, the inconsistency is not even peculiar to Handel.
Examining Handel’s treatment of the word for which he is famed, this paper argues that that treatment’s inconsistency is a deliberate musico-linguistic effect, and one capable of producing considerable subtlety. Using Handel as a point of departure, the paper also sheds light on this word’s variable stressing across several European languages and artforms, speculates on the origins of that variability (‘Hallelujah’’s loanword status), and examines the word’s etymology (a compound of ‘Hallelu’, or ‘bless ye’, and ‘Jah’, the Abrahamic God) to argue that shifting the emphasis from one syllable to another can have potent expressive meaning. As also happens frequently, word repetition turns out to do much more than stretch short texts across long movements, and variable stressing proves far from haphazard.
Josquin’s ‘Illibata Dei Virgo Nutrix’ has a long history of musicological exegesis. From its acrostic poem to the Pythagorean proportions of its shifting mensurations, ‘Illibata’ reveals a startling array of musical and extra-musical... more
Josquin’s ‘Illibata Dei Virgo Nutrix’ has a long history of musicological exegesis. From its acrostic poem to the Pythagorean proportions of its shifting mensurations, ‘Illibata’ reveals a startling array of musical and extra-musical complexities, some pointing to biographical details of the composer’s life, others to concepts of far greater abstractness. The motet’s most ostentatiously signifying feature, however, may be its cantus firmus, a soggetto cavatto whereby the Marian text inspires a constantly repeating tenor of la mi la (the same vowels as ‘Maria’).
This paper explores an even more prominent, but far more localized, solmization pun in ‘Illibata’: the rising fifths on the words ‘ut sol’ (‘like the sun’). At first glance (and hearing), this seems to be just another solmization in-joke, but, given the motet’s one-flat signature, the lowest note of the leap cannot be ut, nor the highest sol. Far from a music-theoretical slip, the apparent error seems to be a deliberate effect, part (perhaps the beginning) of a long tradition of such apparently deliberate mis-solmized solmization puns on these exact words.
While many composers used this device, however, its appearance in ‘Illibata’ represents another of this motet’s ingeniously significant flashes of artistry. Examining the pitches surrounding the leap, I show that Josquin effects a temporary (un)transposition of the gamut, with the cantus firmus providing a kind of pivot-solmization, and I argue for this (un)transposition as simultaneously arcane and obvious word-painting: a sudden shift to a sharper, brighter system to represent Mary’s being ‘like the sun’.
Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s debt to Italian music is widely documented. Recently, Graham Sadler has drawn attention to specifically Venetian operatic influence on the composer’s Latin-language oratorios, particularly their use of versi... more
Marc-Antoine Charpentier’s debt to Italian music is widely documented. Recently, Graham Sadler has drawn attention to specifically Venetian operatic influence on the composer’s Latin-language oratorios, particularly their use of versi sdruccioli (poetry with STRONG–weak–weak line-endings), set to a characteristic musical rhythm, for rustic speech and for incantation in supernatural (‘ombra’) scenes. The latter use is evident both in Francesco Cavalli’s Il Giasone and in Charpentier’s Mors Saülis et Jonathae. Charpentier’s French-language operas also feature such scenes; however, due to their noticeable lack of versi sdruccioli, Sadler asserts that they ‘make no allusion to this Italian tradition, at least in their versification’.

Taking Sadler’s observation as its starting point, this paper argues that the ombra scene from Charpentier’s opera David et Jonathas does indeed allude to Venetian tradition (and to Giasone in particular), not in versification, but in handling of musical styles, in overall musical form, and in dramaturgy. The paper also explores larger-scale structural-rhetorical similarities between these two ombra scenes and the one from Mors, revealing an identical four-part pattern in the magician-characters’ spells: First attempt – Failure – Second attempt – Success. This pattern’s prominence in Giasone, and absence from other Venetian ombra scenes, strongly suggests the influence of this particular opera on Mors and David. Furthermore, the Second attempt’s aggressive, even threatening nature has implications for character-construction, both here and in another incantation from which the Failure and Second attempt are conspicuously absent: the ombra scene in Charpentier’s French-language opera Médée.

(For appendices to this paper, see https://dcu.academia.edu/CathalTwomey/Appendices:-Second-Time's-The-Charm)
Much of the innuendo in Britney Spears’s 2009 song ‘If U Seek Amy’ manifests as simple double entendre, but the titular phrase from the chorus is much more complicated, hearable either as ‘If you seek Amy’ or ‘F. U. C. K. me’. However,... more
Much of the innuendo in Britney Spears’s 2009 song ‘If U Seek Amy’ manifests as simple double entendre, but the titular phrase from the chorus is much more complicated, hearable either as ‘If you seek Amy’ or ‘F. U. C. K. me’. However, the song does not foreground the lewd subtext at the expense of the innocuous surface, or vice versa; instead, some features of the song imply the innocuous meaning, and others the lewd one.
Taken at (innocuous) face value, the phrase is highly figured, beginning with anacoluthon and ending with aposiopesis (‘But all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to– If you seek Amy…’), whereas the lewd meaning rests in a more straightforward, syntactically integrated and conclusive statement (‘But all of the boys and all of the girls are begging to F. U. C. K. me.’). Thus, the text demonstrates paradoxical interpretive complexity: a surface-level reading requires greater effort than a reading for subtext, but the very act of seeking subtext involves greater effort than taking a text at face value.
The music only intensifies that complexity. In the very first line, mis-stressing of the name Amy (‘a-MY’) warns that something may be wrong with the titular phrase; and when the phrase actually arrives, the syntactic integration of its subtext is conveyed by steady melodic descent. However, subtle rhythmic changes suggest the discontinuity required for the surface meaning, while a sudden melodic darkness seems mimetic, but ambiguously so (drifting into huskier tone for the end of the profanity’s spelling-out, or abrupt shift in tone for the innocuous reading’s discontinuity?).
This paper explores the dense web of textual and musico-textual communicative devices in ‘If U Seek Amy’, devices that simultaneously express, with roughly equal plausibility, two different meanings for the titular phrase and the song as a whole. This ultimately insoluble interpretive dilemma is suggested to be both practically and aesthetically useful to the creator: an equally strong case for the innocuous and the suggestive allows the song to slip past censors more easily, and to provide richer enjoyment, amusement, and satisfaction for listeners.
While most of the English texts that Handel set are metrical poetry, a few anthems and oratorio librettos, including Messiah, comprise direct quotations from English versions of the Bible devoid of metre. Such texts are traditionally... more
While most of the English texts that Handel set are metrical poetry, a few anthems and oratorio librettos, including Messiah, comprise direct quotations from English versions of the Bible devoid of metre. Such texts are traditionally viewed as prose, but in my doctoral thesis, as well as in a recent paper and article, I argue that they are, in fact, poems, organised not by metre but by the systematic (predictable and ubiquitous) use of rhetorical parallelism (‘sameness between stretches of text’).

In this paper I explore the stylistic impact of parallelism on the composer’s vocal writing, an under-researched area in the already neglected field of Handelian word-setting. I examine the various ways in which Handel realised or subverted the parallelism of the poetry he set, much as he did with the metre of metrical poems. Since parallelism is a type of repetition, I also argue that the repeating of words and textual phrases is an expressive and rhetorical device, not a mere Baroque mannerism or means to stretch short texts over long musical movements. As such, I advocate parallelism (even non-systematic parallelism, such as sometimes is present in the texts and settings of metrical poetry) as a valuable lens through which to understand the word-patterns that emerge from Handelian song. And I suggest that, since parallelism often involves sameness of meaning, its treatment constitutes a profound interpretative decision, making the study of that treatment a useful hermeneutic, as well as formal-analytical, tool for musicologists.
Most of the English texts set to music by George Frideric Handel are in metrical verse, long stretches of which rhyme. The exception is the anthem texts, and a small number of oratorio libretti (including Messiah); these comprise direct... more
Most of the English texts set to music by George Frideric Handel are in metrical verse, long stretches of which rhyme. The exception is the anthem texts, and a small number of oratorio libretti (including Messiah); these comprise direct quotations from English versions of the Bible devoid of rhyme or metre. Scholars have traditionally viewed such texts as prose, but this paper argues that they are actually poetry, organised by a principle that rarely sees systematic use in English verse: rhetorical parallelism.

Rhetorical parallelism, definable as ‘similarity between two or more stretches of text’, is the main organising element of biblical poetry. When tasked with compiling a libretto from biblical quotations, librettists carefully selected extracts that formed a parallel scheme, either by lifting whole couplets and tercets intact or by combining originally unrelated lines in orders that made their content complementary. The results were complex and allusive quasi-anthologies, new poems made entirely from pieces of old ones, which fit together jigsaw-like in an unexpectedly coherent way.

This paper explores the stylistic impact of rhetorical parallelism on Handel’s vocal writing, an under-researched area in the already neglected field of Handelian word-setting. It argues for a practical, if not theoretical, sensitivity to rhetorical parallelism on the part of the composer and his literary collaborators. And it sheds light on a seemingly tacit, perhaps even unconscious eighteenth-century conviction: that, metrical or not, only poetry could be set to music. Handel never set a word of English prose.
Most of the English texts set to music by George Frideric Handel are in metrical verse, long stretches of which rhyme. The exception is the anthem texts, and a small number of oratorio libretti (including Messiah); these comprise direct... more
Most of the English texts set to music by George Frideric Handel are in metrical verse, long stretches of which rhyme. The exception is the anthem texts, and a small number of oratorio libretti (including Messiah); these comprise direct quotations from English versions of the Bible devoid of rhyme or metre. Traditionally, scholarship has viewed such texts as prose, but this paper argues that they are actually verse, organized by a feature that rarely sees systematic use in English: rhetorical parallelism.

Rhetorical parallelism refers to ‘sameness between two or more stretches of text’, a large-scale echo of form or meaning, and is the main organizational principle of biblical verse. When compiling libretti from biblical quotations, Handel’s collaborators carefully selected extracts that formed a parallel scheme, either by lifting whole couplets and tercets intact or by combining originally unrelated lines in orders that made their content complementary. The results were complex and allusive quasi-anthologies, new poems made entirely from pieces of old ones, which fit together jigsaw-like in an unexpectedly coherent way.

This paper explores the stylistic impact of parallelism on Handel’s vocal writing, an under-researched area in the already neglected field of Handelian word-setting. It argues for a practical, if not theoretical, sensitivity to parallelism on the part of the composer and his literary collaborators. And it sheds light on a seemingly tacit, perhaps even unconscious eighteenth-century conviction: that, metrical or not, only poetry could be set to music. Handel never set a word of English prose.
Like many kinds of popular entertainment, the opera of seventeenth-century Venice relied heavily on formulae. From the lamenting queen to the comic servant, creators had numerous stock characters and plot elements to draw upon, recombine,... more
Like many kinds of popular entertainment, the opera of seventeenth-century Venice relied heavily on formulae. From the lamenting queen to the comic servant, creators had numerous stock characters and plot elements to draw upon, recombine, and vary almost endlessly. However, the genre’s daring treatment of sexuality often overshadows a significant stock character-trait: sworn chastity, the rejection not only of one specific courtship, but of sexual (and usually romantic) intimacy in general.

Characters that assert such convictions (particularly women, and most such assertors are female in these operas) stand firmly apart from societal norms. Yet, far from embodying a monolithic stereotype, these characters offer a wide range of perspectives on desire, charting diverse courses through their respective music-dramas as they attempt to reconcile their vow with the pressures of a world (and sometimes a person) that seeks to invalidate them.

This paper surveys some of the character-type’s most prominent incarnations, many of whom separate sex not only from romance but also from sensuous pleasure (partnered and otherwise), validating non-standard relationships in a manner strikingly evocative of twenty-first century asexual discourse. It examines both the origins and outcomes of such convictions, from necessity to fear to genuine disinterest, and from empoweringly happy to disturbingly ‘corrective’ and cautionary endings. And it interrogates the numerous ways in which the characters themselves portray their convictions, from the identity crisis faced by Diana upon realizing that she has fallen in love, to Penelope’s carefully cultivated (yet not necessarily dissembled) image as a perpetually mourning widow.
Like most eighteenth-century composers, George Frideric Handel did not write his own lyrics. For church anthems, he or his patron usually selected excerpts from the Bible; for odes and English-language theatre pieces, he generally chose... more
Like most eighteenth-century composers, George Frideric Handel did not write his own lyrics. For church anthems, he or his patron usually selected excerpts from the Bible; for odes and English-language theatre pieces, he generally chose or was pointed to the work of recently-deceased authors of renown (in other words, modern classics). In the case of oratorio, however, poets seem mostly to have approached Handel with an idea for a music-drama, sometimes with a libretto already partially written, enquiring whether he would like to set it to music. If he said yes, the poet would work on completing the libretto while he set what they had already given him.

This paper focusses on two of Handel’s most frequent oratorio librettists, Thomas Morell and Charles Jennens, a focus justified not only by the frequency of his collaboration with these men, but also by their respective attitudes to the composer (which could scarcely be more different), and their thorough documentation of their working relationship with him (Morell was a prolific memoirist, and Jennens exchanged many letters with Handel, several of which still exist). Although an oratorio’s plot outline usually came from its librettist, the question of ‘which comes first, the words or the music’ rarely admits of an easy answer with Handel, whether we take ‘first’ in the chronological or value-related sense. The importance and history of text varies from poet to poet, even from work to work, and proves an interesting lens through which to understand the composer’s creative process.
The Greek myth of Endymion, a shepherd who fell in love with the moon, is attested as early as 200BCE. The moon’s goddess reciprocated, but as writers began to shift the role of lunar deity to Diana, the story grew confusing. How could... more
The Greek myth of Endymion, a shepherd who fell in love with the moon, is attested as early as 200BCE. The moon’s goddess reciprocated, but as writers began to shift the role of lunar deity to Diana, the story grew confusing. How could this goddess, famed for chastity, form half of an iconic couple?

In La Calisto, a 1651 operatic adaptation of the myth, the couple resolve that confusion by agreeing to a romantic, sensual, but sexless relationship. The acts of kissing, and to a lesser extent of caressing and embracing, acquire new weight for them as mutually pleasurable experiences once released from their traditional status as precursors to copulation. More simply, ‘foreplay’ becomes an end (the end) in itself.

This paper suggests that Diana and Endymione thus queer normative concepts of intimacy, and that La Calisto drew on well-known Venetian opera tropes to represent their unconventionality.
The Greek myth of Endymion, a shepherd who fell in love with the moon, is attested as early as 200BCE. The moon’s goddess reciprocated, but as writers began to shift the role of lunar deity to Diana, the story became confusing. How could... more
The Greek myth of Endymion, a shepherd who fell in love with the moon, is attested as early as 200BCE. The moon’s goddess reciprocated, but as writers began to shift the role of lunar deity to Diana, the story became confusing. How could this goddess, famed for chastity, form half of an iconic couple?

In La Calisto, a 1651 operatic adaptation of the myth, Endimione and Diana resolve that confusion with a simple realisation: that bodily pleasure, even when partnered, need not necessarily be sexual. Released from a traditional status as precursors to copulation, the acts of kissing, and to a lesser extent of caressing and embracing, acquire new weight for the couple, as mutually pleasurable experiences, and as means to explore new forms of identity-expression. Simply put, ‘foreplay’ becomes an end (the end) in itself. Through their romantic, sensual, but sexless relationship, Diana and Endimione reconcile apparently binary opposites into complementary facets of a coherent identity: the celibate lovers.

This paper argues that the relationship thus queers normative concepts of intimacy and celibacy, and that the opera’s creators drew on well-known tropes of their genre to convey this unconventional nature. The paper examines the complex interactions of gender, status, and agency in the opera, attempting to explain why Diana, the story’s only fully divine celibate, is also the only one to reconcile celibacy with partnered pleasure. Finally, it posits La Calisto as a moment in the spotlight for one of Venetian opera’s least-discussed stock characters: the sworn virgin.
The Greek myth of Endymion, a shepherd who fell in love with the moon, is attested as early as 200BCE. The moon’s goddess reciprocated, but as writers began to shift the role of lunar deity to Diana, the story became confusing. How could... more
The Greek myth of Endymion, a shepherd who fell in love with the moon, is attested as early as 200BCE. The moon’s goddess reciprocated, but as writers began to shift the role of lunar deity to Diana, the story became confusing. How could this goddess, famed for chastity, form half of an iconic couple?

In La Calisto, a 1651 operatic adaptation of the myth, Endimione and Diana resolve that confusion with a simple realisation: that bodily pleasure, even when partnered, need not necessarily be sexual. Released from a traditional status as precursors to copulation, the acts of kissing, and to a lesser extent of caressing and embracing, acquire new weight for the couple, as mutually pleasurable experiences, and as means to explore new forms of identity-expression. Simply put, ‘foreplay’ becomes an end (the end) in itself. Through their romantic, sensual, but sexless relationship, Diana and Endimione reconcile apparently binary opposites into complementary facets of a coherent identity: the celibate lovers.

This paper argues that the relationship thus queers normative concepts of intimacy and celibacy, and that the opera’s creators drew on well-known tropes of their genre to convey this unconventional nature. The paper examines the complex interactions of gender, status, and agency in the opera, attempting to explain why Diana, the story’s only fully divine celibate, is also the only one to reconcile celibacy with partnered pleasure. Finally, it posits La Calisto as a moment in the spotlight for one of Venetian opera’s least-discussed stock characters: the sworn virgin.
Baroque vocal pieces commonly begin with an instrumental ritornello, whose return throughout the movement gives motivic coherence and stylistic unity. However, this paper is less concerned with the ritornello’s recurrence than with its... more
Baroque vocal pieces commonly begin with an instrumental ritornello, whose return throughout the movement gives motivic coherence and stylistic unity. However, this paper is less concerned with the ritornello’s recurrence than with its frequent thematic derivation from the opening vocal phrase.

Combining Graeme Boone’s concept of ‘text-setting models’ with Hans Jauss’ theory on ‘horizons of expectation’, the first part of this paper suggests the opening ritornello as the site of complex musico-linguistic predictive play. Since Baroque composers employed relatively fixed formulae in setting words to music, and many listeners of the time read wordbooks during the performance, it would be easy for such a reader-listener to fit the words before them to the ritornello as they heard it. The second part of the paper explores how vocal practice might impact the performance of ritornelli in light of this dynamic. If the ritornello derives from a vocal phrase in which word-stress deflects emphasis from a strong count of the bar, should the instrumentalists reflect this rhythmic disjunction in their playing? And if they do not, even in some iterations of the ritornello, how does this affect the predictive play for the reader-listener?

As a whole, the paper offers new perspectives on the complex interconnections between vocal and instrumental music, print and delivery, and surprise and expectation in early-eighteenth-century entertainment. By conceiving of the ritornello as a ‘teaser’, it sheds fresh light on audience psychology, and suggests new directions for historically informed instrumental performance.
In the 1990s, Katherine Rohrer noted the prevalence of dance forms in Purcell’s vocal music, arguing that the dance chosen depended on the poetic metre of the text. Rohrer also observed that Purcell and his contemporaries employed local... more
In the 1990s, Katherine Rohrer noted the prevalence of dance forms in Purcell’s vocal music, arguing that the dance chosen depended on the poetic metre of the text. Rohrer also observed that Purcell and his contemporaries employed local rhythmic effects for certain types of poetic line, but she described them as transcriptions of verbal stress into music, rather than theorising a set of stereotyped musical rhythms suited to specific types of poetry. In short, Rohrer offered a theory of large-scale English Baroque musico-poetics, but saw smaller-scale word-setting patterns as text-derived rather than musically systematic.

This paper expands upon Rohrer’s analysis, filtered through Robert O. Gjerdingen’s ‘schematic’ theory of eighteenth-century composition. It begins by examining three common, small-scale rhythmic devices, arguing that each was used exclusively to set a different type of poetic line. The unidiomatic accentuation that frequently resulted is further explained as part of the schemata’s aesthetic purpose. Following Grahame M. Boone’s and Lawrence Earp’s theories of medieval musico-poetics, I describe this as ‘recitational dissonance’, and argue that it offered the composer a means to produce musical variety while remaining recognisably faithful to poetic form.

The second part of the paper examines two frequently-used, large-scale formal types which encompass specific approaches to word repetition, melisma, and dance-derived structure. These too were used exclusively for specific poetic metres and stanza-forms. The paper suggests that poetic and musical form were far more closely connected than musicologists often suppose, and that schematic theory offers new insight into Baroque aesthetics and performance practice.
Dactylic metre (STRONG-weak-weak) is often considered unnatural to the English language, and has never been widely used in English poetry. Since the Early Modern period, however, it has stubbornly endured, if not proliferated, in two... more
Dactylic metre (STRONG-weak-weak) is often considered unnatural to the English language, and has never been widely used in English poetry. Since the Early Modern period, however, it has stubbornly endured, if not proliferated, in two niche traditions. One is the imitation of ancient epic long lines, as in the 1603 eulogy for Elizabeth I, A Motive in Hexameters. The other is a specific type of song lyric, with which this paper is concerned.
The English dactylic short line was codified in 1656, in the twin Mark Anthony poems of John Cleveland. However, the next hundred years saw only twenty more examples of such verse, every one debuting not as an independent poem but as the lyric in a musical setting. These dactyl songs show a remarkable overlap of musical features, including triple-time French dance rhythm, closed and repetitive forms, and a textual fidelity that was highly unusual for the period.

All this points to an oft-overlooked aspect of Baroque musico-poetics: a view of dactylic short lines as so inherently musical as to demand only the composer’s lightest touch (the very antithesis of speech-like blank verse and passionate recitative). The exact nature of that touch was codified in 1685, when, with one operatic duet (‘From the low palace’), Dryden and Grabu launched the dactylic experimenters on the course they were to follow until the end of the Baroque age.

Drawing on the research of Katherine Rohrer, Lawrence Earp, and Katherina Lindekens, this paper reveals the dactyl song as a forgotten tradition of Early Modern English culture, held in high but fleeting esteem, and practiced only by a few dedicated lyricists and their composer collaborators. It also sheds new light on the nature of such collaboration, foregrounding poets’ familiarity with schematic word-setting, composers’ linguistic awareness, and the complexity of interdisciplinary experimentation.
In the 1990s, Katherine Rohrer noted the prevalence of dance forms in Purcell’s vocal music, arguing that the dance chosen depended on the poetic metre of the lyrics. Rohrer also observed that Purcell and his contemporaries employed local... more
In the 1990s, Katherine Rohrer noted the prevalence of dance forms in Purcell’s vocal music, arguing that the dance chosen depended on the poetic metre of the lyrics. Rohrer also observed that Purcell and his contemporaries employed local rhythmic effects for certain types of poetic line, but she described them as transcriptions of verbal stress into music, rather than theorising a set of stereotyped musical rhythms suited to specific types of poetry. In short, Rohrer offered a theory of large-scale English Baroque musico-poetics, but saw smaller-scale word-setting patterns as text-derived rather than musically systematic.
This paper expands upon Rohrer’s analysis, filtered through Robert O. Gjerdingen’s ‘schematic’ theory of eighteenth-century composition. It presents both dance-form macro-structures and local rhythmic figures as part of a wider set of musico-poetic schemata, stock devices applicable to specific English poetic metres, line-types, and stanza-forms. It suggests these schemata as means by which composers added musical variety to their settings whilst remaining faithful to poetic form. It also notes hitherto unobserved patterns in English Baroque word-setting, suggesting that even expressive effects like word-repetition and phrase-structure could be pre-determined by formal characteristics of the text. The paper places these schemata in a larger cultural and historical context, noting similar schematic approaches to word-setting not only in Italian, but also in German and French over at least four centuries, thereby suggesting that poetic form had a far greater role in vocal music than has hitherto been supposed.
As John Dryden himself observed, the poetry he wrote for composers to set to music contains a number of features not found in his other verse. In the second of his Cecilian odes, Alexander’s Feast, these features reach an unprecedented... more
As John Dryden himself observed, the poetry he wrote for composers to set to music contains a number of features not found in his other verse. In the second of his Cecilian odes, Alexander’s Feast, these features reach an unprecedented level of pervasiveness, performative insistence, and expressive importance. From stanza-ending choral refrains, to written-out repetitions of words and verbal phrases, to complex metrical and rhythmic sound-effects, the poem overflows with word-music that makes even a spoken performance into a sonorous display.

When George Frideric Handel undertook to set Alexander’s Feast to music in 1736, Edward Holdsworth observed that ‘tho’ ’tis very musical to read, yet the words […] are very difficult to set […] I hope [Handel’s] superior genius has surmounted all difficulties.’ The concern is a valid one, for how is a composer to approach a text whose librettist has tried to do so much of the musical work himself, providing words that ‘almost set themselves’, as was Dryden’s stated goal? Moreover, Alexander’s Feast was already well-known for being ‘most harmonious in its numbers, of any thing in the English tongue’, and some critics had felt that previous settings had ‘destroy’d […] the very harmony of the poet’.

By all accounts, then, Handel faced a formidable challenge in setting the poem, yet his contemporaries reckoned his setting a resounding success. This paper explores the composer’s approach to the most insistently rhythmic passages of Dryden’s ode, examining which aspects of its ‘harmonious number’ Handel embraced, transformed, or rejected. It presents evidence for the setting as a public display of musico-poetic virtuosity, strongly engaged with the English choral tradition and ‘classic’ literature, and suggests this ode as a starting point for musico-poetic investigation of Handel’s wider output in English, with implications for performance as well as historical and analytical interpretation.
As John Dryden himself observed, the verse he wrote for composers to set to music exhibits a number of features not found in his other poetry. In the second of his Cecilian odes, Alexander’s Feast, these features reach an unprecedented... more
As John Dryden himself observed, the verse he wrote for composers to set to music exhibits a number of features not found in his other poetry. In the second of his Cecilian odes, Alexander’s Feast, these features reach an unprecedented level of pervasiveness and expressive importance. From stanza-ending choral refrains to word-repetition within lines and complex metrical and rhythmic ‘sound-effects’, the poem overflows with cues to the composer and ‘word-music’ that makes even a spoken performance into a sonorous display.

When George Frideric Handel undertook to set Alexander’s Feast in 1736, Edward Holdsworth observed that ‘tho’ ’tis very musical to read, yet the words […] are very difficult to set […] I hope [Handel’s] superior genius has surmounted all difficulties.’ The concern is a valid one, for how is a composer to approach a text in which the poet has already attempted to do so much of the work for them? Moreover, the poem had been set to music twice already, and its popularity would no doubt ensure that the public was well-acquainted with its lyrical qualities.

This paper explores Handel’s solutions to the metrical and stanzaic complexities of the Feast, as well as its inbuilt word-repetition, examining which poetic ‘musicalities’ the composer embraced, transformed, or rejected. It also presents evidence for the setting as a public display of musico-poetic virtuosity, strongly engaged with the English choral tradition and ‘classic’ literature, and suggests the Feast as a starting point for a musico-poetic interrogation of Handel’s wider output in English.
William Boyce’s serenata Solomon was composed in 1742, and, as a setting of well-known pastoral poetry in an identifiably ‘English’ musical style, it was very much in keeping with contemporary trends. However, despite the risk of being... more
William Boyce’s serenata Solomon was composed in 1742, and, as a setting of well-known pastoral poetry in an identifiably ‘English’ musical style, it was very much in keeping with contemporary trends. However, despite the risk of being overlooked in a crowded market (Arne’s Comus (1738) and Handel’s L’Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato (1740) had only recently entered the London concert repertoire), it quickly became popular with the British and Irish public, and remained so until the end of the eighteenth century. For Charles Burney, Comus began ‘an æra in English music,’ with a ‘natural’ vocal style largely founded upon melodic simplicity and certain characteristics of word-setting. Is Solomon exemplary of this ‘æra?’ Amid the concert-going public’s enthusiasm for ‘natural’ vocal melody, what is it about Boyce’s serenata that caused contemporary critics to praise it as ‘elegant and sublime’? As I will argue, a key factor is the word-setting, which allows Edward Moore’s vivid and lyrical (at times even racy) libretto to be clearly understood, and occupies something of a middle ground between Arne’s folk-like simplicity in Comus and Handel’s more sophisticated pastoralism in L’Allegro. This paper examines the techniques Boyce used in setting this libretto to music, with a particular focus on musical word-stress and the manner in which rhyme and lineation are illuminated or, occasionally, disguised by the setting. By this investigation, I hope to place this piece within the larger context of mid-eighteenth-century musico-poetics, and to posit some explanations for its popularity with audiences of its time.
William Boyce’s serenata Solomon was composed in 1742. As a pastoral concert work set to well-known poetry in an identifiably English style, it was very much in keeping with popular musical trends, but risked submersion in a saturated... more
William Boyce’s serenata Solomon was composed in 1742. As a pastoral concert work set to well-known poetry in an identifiably English style, it was very much in keeping with popular musical trends, but risked submersion in a saturated market (Arne’s Comus and Handel’s L’Allegro, Il Penseroso ed Il Moderato had both appeared within the previous five years). However, it quickly became enormously popular with the London public and remained so well into the nineteenth century. While its melodic and harmonic grace received much praise at the time, its success may also owe much to Edward Moore’s vivid and lyrical (at times even racy) libretto, adapted from Croxall’s Song of Songs paraphrase, The Fair Circassian. Boyce’s setting allows Moore’s text to be both recognised and very clearly understood, and fuses not only word and note but also line and phrase in an unusual and effective manner. My research examines the techniques of word-setting used in Solomon, with particular focus on musical word-stress, the composer’s engagement with poetic metre, and the manner in which rhyme and lineation are illuminated or, occasionally, disguised by the setting. Using theories and analytical techniques of the Baroque period in combination with modern methods of musico-poetic analysis, this paper endeavours to clarify which techniques Boyce borrowed and adapted and which may have been unique to his own style.