III

Rhythmopoeia: Quantitative Meters
in Poetry and Music

ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE on metrical organization is provided by rhythmopoeia, a study that translates quantitative poetic meters into their equivalents in music. Rhythmopoeia defined metrical units, unlike the tactus, which regulated the flow of music without regard for metrical groups. The “musical feet” of rhythmopoeia, equivalent to poetic feet, were symmetrical or asymetrical and could be simply repeated or constantly varied to form a phrase.

Rhythmopoeia illustrated the effect of the quantitative meters of Greek and Latin to young scholars, but it was used also by theorists as a model of word-music relationship in modern languages. The differences between modern accentual language and ancient quantitative language made rhythmopoeia rather pedantic and impractical. However, the steps and metrical structures of dance rhythms could be compared to the metrical units of rhythmopoeia. The importance of rhythmopoeia waned when the musical measure became associated exclusively with accent in the second half of the eighteenth century.

“Musical Humanism” in the Sixteenth Century.

C. F. Abdy Williams discusses Aristoxenus’s definitions (ca. 330 B.C.) of three basic terms in Greek rhythmic theory: rhythm, rhythmizomenon, and rhythmopoeia.

“We must imagine” he says, “two different natures, that of rhythm and that of the rhythmizomenon, having the same relations to one another as a plan has to the object that is planned.” The rhythmizomenon is the raw material which is subjected to rhythm; and there are three kinds of rhythmizomenon, namely, music, poetry, and dancing. Melody alone consists of a succession of intervals, without meaning. Only when it is subjected to rhythm does it take shape and form. Ordinary speech consists of a succession of accented and unaccented syllables in no definite order; when, however, these are subjected to rhythm, the speech becomes poetry. The steps of a person walking or running are continuous, but if they become ordered in some recognizable arrangement by rhythm, the dance arises. Intervals, speeds and steps are the three rhythmizomena, the respective materials to which rhythm is applied.

Rhythmopoeia is the art of applying rhythm to the rhythmizomenon. This art was carefully studied, and more attention was given to it in theory than is the case with us. It has to do, not only with the construction of the phrases, but of the measures themselves. . . . Aristoxenus calls the rhythmopoeia of the complete phrase, as opposed to that of the single measures, “continuous rhythmopoeia.”¹

Medieval theorists used the words rhythmopoeia and melopoeia to indicate, in a general way, the rhythmic and melodic-harmonic elements of music.² Thus rhythmopoeia was a term that represented ancient scholarship in music theory. However, due to a growing consciousness of meter and its notation during the seventeenth century, the concept of rhythmopoeia was of renewed practical importance.

D. P. Walker uses the term “musical humanism” to refer to artistic experiments in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries that were intended to re-create ancient musical theory and practice.³ In 1507 Petrus Tritonius (Peter Treybenreif) set the Odes of Horace to music. Gustave Reese describes his setting as “in four parts, moving in block chords, the note values of the chords faithfully reflecting the longs and shorts of the text meters.”⁴ The settings were inspired by the humanist poet Konrad Celtes and were intended to help students learn the nineteen meters used in the Horatian odes and epodes. Similar settings of the same odes were later composed by Hofhaimer and Senfl.⁵ In 1556, Statius Olthof set metrical Latin psalm paraphrases to music that faithfully reflected the longs and shorts of Horatian meters.⁶

The didactic nature of German musical humanism is well illustrated by these many settings. They were inspired by and became a part of the Latin dramas performed in German schools throughout the sixteenth century and into the seventeenth century.⁷ Athanasius Kircher may have depended upon this tradition for his compendium of musical equivalents of Greek and Latin poetic feet published in the Musurgia Universalis of 1650.⁸ However, it seems that the development of rhythmopoeia as a theory of meter organization in the seventeenth century was not German but French.

According to D. P. Walker’s studies of musique mesurée à l’antique, most humanistically inspired music of the sixteenth century attempted to unite the arts of poetry and music. To this impulse we owe the invention of opera by the Florentine Camerata as well as the chansons mesurées à Vantique of Claude le Jeune, Maudit, and du Caurroy. Italian writers such as Doni and Galilei were interested in the humanist experiments that led to opera but were not interested in the metrical theories of rhythmopoeia. It was in France that the development of rhythmopoeia took on its later form, as a consequence of the particular rhythmic theories of poets, musicians, and writers involved with musique mesurée. Marin Mersenne was the chief theorist of musique mesurée, even though his Harmonie Universelle was published long after the height of creative activity by poets and musicians. ⁹

“The desire to resuscitate the ethical quality of music is the driving force behind the theory and practice of the more enthusiastic class of humanist.”¹⁰ Walker cites Mersenne’s early work as typical of this group, although some cooling of enthusiasm can be observed in his later work.¹¹ A belief in a musical ethos led to the dominance of the text over the music, the “reintroduction of the practical use of the chromatic and enharmonic genera, . . . generally reforming intonation, and . . . reviving the proper use of the modes.” ¹²

Humanist composers subordinated music to the text in order to achieve “the vivid expression of the sense of the text; the preservation of its rhythm; and the preservation of its audibility.”¹³ Walker comments on the second of these objectives: “Quite apart from anything to do with the effects, this would have been part of any musical humanist’s beliefs, since his classical authorities, with however some important exceptions, unmistakably implied that musical and poetic rhythm were one and the same thing.”¹⁴ Walker shows that although there was agreement as to the importance of preserving the rhythm of the text, there was disagreement on how this was to be done. Two theories, both based on classical authority, were expressed, one by Galilei and Tyard, the other by Salinas and Mersenne.¹⁵ The Galilei-Tyard method used only two note values, long and short, in a 2:1 proportion. Mersenne, however, is quoted as stating:

[Compositeurs] Ne sont pas obliges de faire toutes les syllables longues d’une mesme longeur, car ils peuuent donner le temps d’vne crochue aux syllables longues, pouruue que dans une mesme mesure ou diction, ils vsent des notes d’vn moindre temps pour les syllables briefues.¹⁶

[Composers] are not obliged to make all long syllables the same length, as they can give even as little as the duration of an eighth note to long syllables provided that in the same meter or speech they use notes of smaller length for short syllables.

Baif and de Courville, who began to write vers et musique mesurées à l’antique about 1567, attempted to modify Greek and Latin meters to suit the French language. “Their meter was meant to be quantitative, but owing to the nature of the French language this was impossible. They did, however, come near to achieving an accentual version of the metrical patterns of Greek and Latin verse.”¹⁷ The discrepancy between the accentual languages of the seventeenth century and the quantitative language of the ancients lent a quality of artificiality to all subsequent attempts to create a union of poetry and music through rhythmopoeia.

Seventeenth- and Eighteenth-Century Discussions
of Rhythmopoeia

The long and short syllables of quantitative Greek and Latin poetic feet were translated more or less directly into music by either the Galilei-Tyard method or by the less strict principles of Mersenne and Salinas. Lists of these translations were made in the seventeenth century, as in Kircher’s Musurgia Universalis, and every conceivable poetic foot was illustrated by a word and its musical equivalent. Quantitative poetic meters could then be translated easily into their precise musical form by using these catalogs of “musical feet.”

Rhythmopoeia was applied to instrumental music not to insure fidelity of music to poetic meter but to stimulate composers to greater variety as well as to organize metrical units in categories. Mersenne took the view that “musical feet” were already found in common musical practice and only needed to be recognized by musicians:

Encore que les mouuemens qui seruent aux Airs et aux dances, appartiennent à la Rhythmique dont nous n’auons pas encore parlé, neantmoins il a esté nécessaire d’en traiter icy, afin de faire comprendre les différentes especes des Airs et des chants dont vsent les François: mais il est si aysé d’entendre tout ce qui concerne ces mouuemens, qu’il n’est pas nécessaire d’en faire vn liure particulier, puis que les plus excellens pieds metriques, qui ont donné le nom & la naissance à la Rhythmique des Grecs, sont pratiquez dans les airs de Balet, dans les chansons à dancer et dans toutes les autres actions qui servent aux récréations publiques ou particuliers, comme l’on aduoüera quand on aura réduit les pieds qui suiuent aux airs que l’on récite, ou que l’on iouë sur les Violons, sur le Luth, sur la Guiterre et sur les autres instrumens.

Or ces pieds, peuuent estre appeliez mouuemens afin de s’accommoder à la maniéré de parler de nos Practiciens, & compositeurs d’airs; c’est pourquoy ie me seruirez désormais de ce terme, pour ioindre la Théorie a la Pratique.¹⁸

Since the rhythms that make up airs and dances belong to the theory of rhythm of which we have not yet spoken, it was necessary to deal with them here in order to teach the different kinds of airs and melodies used by the French. But it is so easy to understand everything concerning rhythms, that it isn’t necessary to write a separate book about them here. The most excellent metrical feet, which have given the name and birth to Greek theory of rhythm, are already in use in the airs de Balets, dance melodies, and all other occasions which serve as private or public amusements. This will be seen by an analysis of the feet that are used in airs that are sung or that are played on violins, the lute, guitar, and other instruments.

Consequently these feet may be called rhythms in order to accommodate ourselves to the manner of speech of performers and composers of airs. This is why I use this term from now on, in order to join theory with practice.

He went on to advocate the use of rhythmopoeia by “composers of bransles”:

Mais s’ils prennent la peine de mettre deuant eux les pieds ou mouuemens tant simples que diminuez les Grecs et des Latins, que nous auons expliquez cy-deuant, afin de choisir ceux qui leur agreeront dauantage pour les employer à leurs compositions, ils les enrichiront beaucoup plus aisément, & en feront vne plus grande multitude qu’à l’ordinaire, sans se troubler en nulle manière.¹⁹

If they would take the trouble to set before themselves the very simple feet and rhythms that the Greeks and Latins varied and ornamented, explained above, in order to choose those most useful to them in their compositions, they would enrich their work much more easily, and use a greater number of rhythms than ordinarily is done, all without the least trouble at all.

Mersenne delighted in the investigation of rational possibilities, and his discussion of rhythmopoeia was an attempt to widen the horizons of the composers of his day, not to reduce music to narrow rules of practice. There are many poetic feet that may be introduced in duple and triple measures (a long syllable is indicated by -, a short syllable by v):

Il faut seulement remarquer que la mesure binaire, composée de deux temps égaux, se rapporte aux Pyrriches [v v], aux spondées [- -], aux dactyles [- v v], & aux Anapestes [v v -], &c. qui sont composez de 2 ou de 4 temps, comme la mesure ternaire au Tribrache [v v v], à l’ïambe [v -], au Trochée [- v], & à tous les autres pieds composez de 3,6 ou de 12 temps. Mais les autres pieds contiennent plusieurs autres sortes de mesures, qu’il est aisé de mettre en pratique, par exemple, le Bacchien [v - -] contient 5 temps, & s’exprime auec 5 notes noires, lors qu’il est dissous, ou auec deux notes minimes, & vne noire: le Paeon [- v v v] a semblablement 5 temps, car il est composée d’vn ïambe et d’vn Trochée, comme le Choriambe [- v v -]. Quant aux Epitrites [v - - -], ils sont composez de 7. temps, de sorte qu’ils peuuent se rapporter aux termes de la raison sesquitierce, que fait le Diatessaron parce qu’il faut chanter 4 notes en frappant & 3. en leuant, ou au contraire, 3. en frappant & 4. en leuant: comme les Paeons ressemblent en quelque façon au Dia-pente, parce qu’il faut chanter trois notes en baissant, & deux en leuant, ou au contraire: c’est ce que l’on doit proprement appeler mouuement & mesure sesquialtère ou hemiole: car quant aux trochées & ïambes, ils forment plustost vne mesure double semblable a l’Octave qu’vne mesure ternaire, puis que 2. bat contre vn: comme le spondée forme vne mesure égale, plustost que binaire, afin qu’elle se raporte à l’vnisson. ²⁰

It is only necessary to note that the two-part measure composed of two equal beats agrees with pyrrhic [v v], spondaic [- -], dactylic [- v v], and anapestic [v v -] feet, etc. which are composed of two or four beats. The three-part measure agrees with tribrachic [v v v], iambic [v -], trochaic [- v] feet, and all others composed of three, six or twelve beats. But other feet contain many other kinds of meters that are easy to put into practice. For example the bacchic [v - -] foot has five beats, and is expressed by five quarter notes when it is broken up, or with two half notes and one quarter. The paeon [- v v v] also has five beats as it is made up of one iambic and one trochaic foot, like the choriambic foot [- v v -]. As for the epitritic feet [v - - -], they are composed of seven beats so that they agree with the sesquitertia proportion, which makes the diatessaron or [interval of the] fourth, because four notes are sung on the downstroke and three on the up. In this way the paeons are like the [interval of the] fifth, because three notes are sung on the downstroke and two on the upstroke, or vice versa. It is properly called the measure and rhythm of sesquialtera, or hemiolia. As for trochaic and iambic feet, they often make a ternary measure in 2:1 proportion, comparable to the octave because the beats are as 2 to 1. The spondaic foot makes an equal measure rather than a binary measure, because it is comparable to the unison.

Mersenne gives a number of examples of metrical feet and their musical equivalents (Ex. 3.1).²¹

EX. 3.1

The concept of rhythmopoeia was particularly useful in discussing the meter of dance music because of its consistent metrical structure. For Mersenne, rhythmopoeia provided a convenient organizational system that clarified measure-like patterns in mensural notation. A bransle gay in Harmonie Universelle consisted of repetitions of the “ionic minor” foot, v v - - (Ex. 3.2).²²

EX. 3.2

The short and long elements of each musical foot seem to represent the pulses on which the dancers place their feet, and therefore they mark the underlying metrical structure of the dance music. The melody is sufficiently decorated that the dance meter may not be evident without the clarification of rhythmopoeia.

Wolfgang Caspar Printz uses dances by Lully and D. C. Horn to illustrate musical feet. Johann Mattheson attempts to prove “with clear, comprehensible, and applicable examples that it is possible by means of mere sound-feet and their variation ... to make dances from church songs and to make chorales from dances.”²³ Example 3.3 is a small portion of one of Mattheson’s examples.

EX. 3.3

Illustrating the continued association of rhythmopoeia and dance rhythm later in the century, Joseph Riepel entitles a book about the composition of dance forms Anfangsgrunde zur musikalischen Setz-kunst. . . De Rhythmopoeia oder von der Tactordnung (Frankfurt, 1752), even though he does not discuss musical equivalents of ancient meters.

Jean Gerard Lustig discusses rhythmopoeia and gives a list of thirty different feet with musical examples. His list is similar to Mattheson’s but differs in a few minor points. ²⁴

The most thorough discussions of rhythmopoeia after Mersenne were written by Johann Mattheson and Wolfgang Caspar Printz. Mattheson began his discussion of rhythmic organization with rhythmopoeia and identifies the “sound-foot” as the elementary musical unit to be found at the base of any hierarchy of metrical relationships. ²⁵

He distinguishes between the “arithmetic content,” which is the sound-foot (rhythmi) derived from the poetic meter, and the “geometric content,” the succession of sound-feet, either repeated or in combination with other sound- feet. In describing the menuet each measure is considered to be an individual sound-foot. The geometric content of the menuet is four, that is, four sound-feet are grouped in a phrase, matching the choreographic structure of the dance. Different sound-feet may be mixed together in a phrase.²⁶

Mattheson gives examples of twenty-six feet in his chapter on rhythmopoeia, which are illustrated in the appendix. His musical equivalents of poetic feet use relatively longer notes for long syllables (-) and shorter ones for the short syllables (v). Mattheson does not attempt to cover all possibilities or all possible variants:

Es können alle diese Rhythmi noch auf verschiedene andre Arten ausgedruckt werden; so dass unsre beygefügte Noten die Sache bey wietem nicht erschöpften: denn die Lange und Kürze des Klanges hat viel Stuffen in der Ton-Kunst, davon die Dicht-Kunst nichts weiss, zu welchen noch mehr Veränderung kommt, von der mannigfaltigen Tact-Arten, &c.²⁷

All these sound-feet can be expressed in different ways, so that our musical examples have not by any means exhausted the possibilities. The length and shortness of sounds has many degrees in music, of which poetry knows nothing, and more variety yet comes from the many time signatures.

Rhythmopoeia requires some relaxation of the rules of melody given elsewhere in Mattheson’s theoretical discussions. According to the “fifth rule of clarity in the melody,”²⁸ the caesura, or small pause at the end of a phrase, could occur only on the (half-note) upbeat or (half-note) downbeat in duple meter, never on the second or fourth quarter of the bar. In triple meter this division could fall only on the downbeat pulse, or first quarter note, not on the second or third quarter notes. All of these caesura points are “intrinsically long” notes, and for this purpose “short” or “bad” notes will not serve. However:

Eine kleine Ausnahm ist hiebey zu machen nöthig, dass nehmlich in einegen choraischen und melismatischen Dingen auch bisweilen, bey ungeraden Tacten, das letze Gleid gewisser maassen zum Abschnitt dienen muss: wenn eine sonderliche Gleichförmigkeit darin gesucht und durchgehends so fortgeführet wird. Solches geschiehet aber mit Fleiss, und nicht von ungefehr, oder aus Unwissenheit der Regel [Ex. 3.4].²⁹

A small exception must be made here in choraic [Trochaic - v] or melismatic [rhythms broken up by ornamental smaller notes] pieces. Sometimes the last quarter in 3/4 must be used for the pause, when a particular uniformity is sought with that which has occured before. This happens on purpose and not by accident or through ignorance of the rule [Ex. 3.4].

EX. 3.4

In looking through Mattheson’s own compilation of rhythmi, one finds a number of other examples of sound-feet that seem to have caused a similar relaxation of the rule.

There is another difficulty for Mattheson in reconciling rhythmopoeia to measure organization. “Das Haupt-Wesen des Tacts kömmt einmahl für allemahl darauf an, dass eine jede Mensur, ein jeder Abschnitt der Zeit-Maasse nur zween Theile und nicht mehr habe” (The principal requirement of the tactus, once and for all, is that each measure, each segment of time measurement, has only two parts, no more).³⁰ These parts are the upbeat and downbeat, or arsis and thesis.³¹ Arsis and thesis are of equal duration in duple measures and unequal (2:1) duration in triple measures. Some metrical feet (rhythmi) include both arsis and thesis, some only arsis or thesis, and some more than one of each. Mattheson never thoroughly explains how measures are to be adjusted to rhythmopoeia; his examples in the chapter on rhythmopoeia seem to ignore measure organization, but elsewhere in Der vollkommene Capellmeister his examples abide by arsis-thesis organization.

Wolfgang Caspar Printz’s Latin-studded phrases project a more antiquarian outlook than Mattheson’s, but in several important respects his treatment of rhythmopoeia is more forward-looking. The relationship of rhythmopoeia to the measure is resolved in Printz’s discussion of sound-feet, by reconciling long and short quantity with “intrinsically long” and “intrinsically short” notes, a topic that will be fully discussed in chapter four. ³²

Printz restricts the number of feet to six; all other patterns are considered variants or ornamentations of these. These six, the iamb (v -), trochee (- v), enantius (v - or v - v), dactyl (- v v), spondee (- -), and the “syncopaticus,” are expressed by notes of longer or shorter duration and also by notes of the same duration that are considered to be “intrinsically long” or “intrinsically short,” as determined by the place of the note within the measure.

Mattheson’s musical equivalent of the iambic foot (v -) is a measure of . One is to consider the duration of the notes regardless of their position in the measure. According to Printz, the first quarter note of a 3/4 measure, coinciding with the thesis, is intrinsically long, despite being shorter in actual duration than the half note on beats two and three, on the arsis. Therefore Printz’s musical equivalent of the iambic foot places the short syllable of the iamb on the arsis, which is intrinsically short, and the long syllable of the iamb on the thesis, which is intrinsically long. Provided the relationship of the notes to the metrical structure is right, notes of either equal or unequal duration will express the iambic foot (Ex. 3.5).

EX. 3.5

Printz suggested seven techniques by which the six basic sound-feet are varied and ornamented. These are: incitati (the addition of a dot to long notes), dilatario (delay), contractio (abridgment), commutatio (alteration), decurtatio (shortening, by leaving out a note or part of a note), prolongatio (increasing the duration of a note), and expletio (adding a note). ³³

In vocal music, practice should always be guided by the requirements of setting texts, but in instrumental music, Printz warns that care must be taken not to vary the musical foot to the point that the original is unrecognizable.

The various sound-feet are single units of meter, but metrical succession combines them by repetition or by mixing several different feet together. Here is Printz’s example of the dichroni contrario-dactylici: the contrarius or enantius is v - or v - v, and dactyl is - v v. “Dichronum” is the numerum sectionalis, signifying that the measures are grouped two by two. Example 3.6 is a sarabande by Lully.

EX. 3.6

Although this is Printz’s own example, it should be noted that the v - or v - v rhythm is incorrectly realized according to his own rules of quantitas intrinseca. The first notes of the first, third, and fifth bars are short according to rhythmopoeia, but in the 3/4 measure these beats are long, according to quantitas intrinseca. Apparently the irrational nature of rhythmopoeia could not be entirely adjusted to the rationality of quantitas intrinseca, even by such a learned theorist.

Johann Adolf Scheibe followed Printz’s example in restricting the number of sound-feet, but he reduced the number to three—iambic, trochaic, and dactylic.³⁴ These were interpreted in relation to an appropriate consideration of quantitas intrinseca. He and C. G. Schröter,³⁵ a follower of Mattheson, engaged in a vituperative quarrel over theories of rhythmopoeia. It is difficult to account for the heat of the argument except that, then as now, scholars took such matters very much to heart.

Writers after Printz and Mattheson became much less interested in rhythmopoeia. Scheibe’s short account is mainly concerned with using the ideas of rhythmopoeia in setting German verses to music.

Rhythmopoeia and Emotion

It was a humanist belief that ethos, Affekt, or emotion (the seventeenth-century English word for which was “passion”) was conveyed by the meters of rhythmopoeia. Various attempts were made by many theorists to describe the emotional quality linked with particular metrical feet.

Mersenne advises:

Le mouuement égal est propre pour les esprits qui ayment la tranquilité & la paix, & qui sont amis du repos & de la solitude, si l’on veut induire à cette affection, ou si Ton a veut entretenir, il faut vser du mode Dorien des anciens, et de leur Hesycastique, auec le mouuement spondaïque, qui admet tous les pieds dont le baisser est égal au leuer. ... Or ce mouuement égal est appellé mesure binaire par les compositeurs ordinaires, comme i’ai déia remarquez: mais lors que l’on veut faire changer cette affection pour entrer dans vne passion plus turbulente, il faut vser du mode Phyrgien & d’vn mouuement double, & des pieds, dont le baisser ou le thesis est double du leuer ou de l’ arsis, ou au contraire, & particulièrement du mouvement îambique, dont les Poètes se seruent dans leurs Tragedies.³⁶

Because equal rhythm is proper to minds that love tranquility and peace and those that are friends of repose and solitude, if you wish to induce this affection or entertain it, the dorian mode and the hesychastic music³⁷ of the ancients must be employed with the spondaic rhythm (- -), which allows the use of all feet in which the downbeat is equal to the upbeat. Consequendy equal rhythm is called binary measure by most composers, as I have said. When you wish to make this affection change in order to enter into a more turbulent passion, the phrygian mode must be used with a triple rhythm, with feet in which the downbeat or thesis is twice as long as the upbeat or arsis, or vice versa, particularly with the iambic rhythm (v -) that is used by poets in their tragedies.

This statement does not begin to distinguish the emotional power of each specific foot, and Mersenne admits:

Certes il est difficile de treuuer la raison de ces différents effets des pieds metriques, ou des mouuemens différents, & de déterminer précisément à quoy chaque pied ou vers est propre, attendu particulièrement que tous les Poètes vsent indifférément de toutes sortes de vers pour représenter, ou pour exciter toutes sortes de passions & d’affections, encore qu’ils essayent de mettre plusieurs syllables briefues de suite pour exprimer les choses vistes et légères.³⁸

It is difficult to find the reason for the different affects of metrical feet or different rhythms and to determine precisely why each foot or verse is characteristic, particularly because poets use all sorts of verse indiscriminately to represent or to excite all sorts of passions and affections, although they try to put many short syllables together to express that which is quick and light.

Isaac Vossius, a Dutch scholar who taught in England, eloquently expresses the emotional power of the various rhythms; he was convinced of their power to move the listener and induce the appropriate affect. He does not give musical examples.

Ut afficiantur animus, necesse est ut sonus aliquid aut indicet aut significet quod mente & intellectu comprehendere possimus. Si enim significations expers fuerit sonus, jam quoque nullos poterit ciere affectus cum a perceptione procedat voluptas, nec amare aut odisse possimus, id quod quale sit ignoramus. Si itaque essicere velimus, ut non inanis sit sonus, allaborandum imprimis, ut cantus iis animetur motibus, qui figuras & imagines rerum, quas cantu exprimere & imitare velimus, in se contineant, hoc enim se assecuti fuerimus, minime erit difficile ducere affectus quocunque libuerit, & imperium exercere in animos. Ut vero istiumodi figurae cantui insint, reducendi omniuo sunt pedes musici quibis omnium motuum genera ita copiose continentur ut nullus ornnino concipi possit affectus, cujus figuram non exhibeant quam exactissime. Ut leves & volubiles explicentur motus, cujusmodi sunt saltus Satyrorum, aptus est pyrrichius & tribrachys. Graves & tardos exprimit spondaeus coque gravior molossus. Quae mollia & tenera sunt exhibebit trochaeus & aliquando amphibrachys, cum & ipse fractum & effiminatum habeat incessum. Vehemens & iracundus est iambus, ejusdemque fere naturae anapestus cum bellicos & concitatos imitetur motus. Si quod hilare & jucundum sit explicare velimus, advocandi sunt dactyli, qui quales nipudiannum esse solent exhibebunt motus. Durum & refractarium si quid sit, opportune succurret antispastus. Si furorum & insaniam inducentibus numeris opus habeamus, praesto erit non anapaestus tantum, sed & illo potentior paeon quartus. [Denique si quotquot vel simplices vel compositi sunt consideremus pedes, omnibus pecculiarem vim & efficaciam inesse. . . .] Haec ratio, hie modus, haec denique antiquae musicae apud Graecos & Romanos forma fuit & figura, caque quamdin florint, tamdin florint etiam virtus ilia exitandis & sopiendis apta affectibus.³⁹

That the soul may be affected, it is necessary that the Sound should imply, or bring before us, something which we can comprehend. That Sounds, therefore, may have their full Effect, the Melody must be animated by such Movements, as contain in themselves the Representations or Images of those things which we mean to express or imitate by Song. And this if we can do, we may be sure to command the Passions of the Soul. But that we may indeed catch and call for these Images, we must employ that Variety of Musical Feet, in which are so fully contained all the several kinds of Movements, that no Affection can be conceived, which they do not most exactly express. For the Expression of light and voluble Motions, as of the Dances of Satyrs, the Pyrrichius and Tribrachys are proper: The grave and slow are expressed by the Spondee and Molossus: Whatever is soft and tender, The Trochee, and sometimes the Amphibrachys will describe; which itself moves with a broken and effeminate pace. The Iambic is fierce and vehement; and the Anapest nearly of the same Nature, as it imitates violent and warlike Motions. If we mean to express what is cheerful and joyous, we must employ the Dactyl, whose Movements are of a correspondent Nature. Whatever is hard and rugged, the Antispast will happily describe. If we require numbers that may express Fury and Madness, not only the Anapest is at Hand, but, what is still more powerful, the Paeon quartus—of these various Measures, artificially combined, did the ancient Greek and Roman Music consist: And while this flourished, so long did Music maintain its Empire over the Passions.

Mattheson refers to Vossius’s ideas on the passions and affections of rhythmic patterns, but calls him “Gerhard Johann Voss,” which arouses our suspicion that he has not read the book. The emotional affect of musical forms and figures is discussed in Der vollkommene Capellmeister;⁴⁰ each dance described is assigned a specific affect. Of the twenty-six “sound-feet” that he defines, Mattheson discusses emotional affects for only eleven. Affects are attributed to rhythms by virtue of the authority of classical authors, although in a few instances Mattheson seems to rely on his own imagination. The spondee (- -) and molossus (- - -) are considered to be heavy and serious and expressive of difficulty or weariness; the dactyl “is a very common rhythm which gives music an earnest or joking melody according to how the tempo is regulated.” The bacchius (v - -) “takes its name from Bacchus, the wine-god, because this rhythm has something hobbling or staggering in it; the victims of Bacchus themselves tend to use it.” ⁴¹

Anecdotes derived from ancient authority characterize some sound-feet, and etymological meanings characterize others. “The anapest takes its name from certain mocking and satyrical poetry ... in joyous and unusual melodies it is more effective than the dactyl.” “The trochee or choraeus (- v). . . takes its first name from running and its second from dancing and singing. In the melodic sense, it does not express much hardness and sarcasm.” “The paeon is derived from παηων, hymnus, because it is dedicated to singing praises. It serves us in overtures and introductions.” The pyrrhic foot is derived from the dance of soldiers, the proceleusmaticus (v v v v) indicates the “imperative, encouraging cry of sailors, clamoren hortatorium nautarum .” “Amphimacer is named from battles and fights because it has been used with warlike instruments and it is suitable to such instruments (- v -).” “Ionicus is known from the province of Ionia and is a sound-foot suitable for dances.”⁴² The rest of his rhythmi are cited without any description of affect.

The Decline of Rhythmopoeia

The decline of rhythmopoeia as a forceful idea can be seen in Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s Dictionnaire de musique in his article on rhythms, where it is treated as something of antiquarian interest. Rousseau sees the discrepancy between quantitative Greek and Latin meters and accentual modern French, but instead of seeking a way to reconcile these differences, as everyone else concerned with rhythmopoeia had done, he is content to point out their existence. ⁴³

Rousseau’s explanation of rhythmopoeia is clear, and he agrees with Printz about the need to restrict the number of feet, but he includes the more unusual feet that were advocated by Mersenne. However, Rousseau’s view of rhythmopoeia is more impractical and less useful than other accounts, despite being more reasonable. He does not speculate about the emotional associations of metric patterns.

Il se divisoit, ainsi qu’eux, en deux temps, l’un frappé, l’autre levé; l’on en comptoit trois genres, même quatre, et plus, selon les divers rapports de ces temps; ces genres étoient l ’égal, qu’ils appeloient aussi dactylique, où le rhythme étoit divisé en deux temps égaux; double, trochaïque ou ïambique, dans lequel la durée de l’un des deux temps étoit double de celle de l’autre; le sesqui-altère, qu’ils appeloient aussi péonique, dont la durée de l’un des deux temps étoit à celle de l’autre en rapport de 3 à 2; et enfin Vépitrite, moins usité, où le rapport des deux temps étoit de 3 a 4.⁴⁴

They [the feet] were divided, as with us, in two parts; one downstroke the other upstroke, and there were three varieties, perhaps even four or more, according to the different combinations of these pulses. These varieties were the duple which they called dactylic and in which the rhythm was divided in two equal parts; the triple, trochaic, or iambic, in which the duration of one of the two parts was double that of the other; the sesquialtera which they also called peonic, in which the duration of the two parts was in the proportion of 3 to 2; and finally the epitrite, less used, in which the proportion of the two parts was 3 to 4.

The combination of various feet could be of three different sorts:

Le rhythme pouvoit être toujours uniforme, c’est-a-dire se battre à deux temps toujours égaux, comme dans les vers hexamètres, pentamètres, adoniens anapestiques, etc.; ou toujours inégaux, comme dans les vers purs ïambiques, ou diversifié, c’est-a-dire mêlé de pieds égaux et d’inégaux, comme dans les scazons, les choraïmbiques, etc. ⁴⁵

Rhythm can be always duple, that is, the beat can be given always by two equal strokes, as in hexameters, pentameters, adonians, anapests, etc.; or it can be always triple, as in purely iambic verse; or be diversified, that is, mixed together duple and triple feet as with scazons, choriambs, etc.

Rousseau quotes Vossius’s opinions:

Vossius, dans son livre de poëmatum Cantu, et Viribus rhythmi, relève beaucoup le rhythme ancien; et il lui attribue toute la force de l’ancienne musique: il dit qu’un rhythme détaché comme le nôtre, qui ne représente aucune image des choses, ne peut avoir aucun effet, et que anciens nombres poétiques n’avoit été inventés que pour cette fin que nous négligeons; il ajoute que la langage et la poésie modernes sont peu propres pour la musique, et que nous n’aurons jamais de bonne musique vocale jusqu’à ce que nous réformions notre langage, et que nous lui donnions, à l’exemple des anciens, la quantité et les pieds mesurés, en proscrivant pour jamais l’invention barbare de la rime.⁴⁶

Vossius reconsiders ancient rhythm in his de poëmatum Cantu, et Viribus rhythmi; he attributes to it the entire power of ancient music. He says that rhythm that is detached as ours is, that represents no image of anything, can have no meaning. The variety of ancient poetic meters was invented only for this goal which we neglect. He adds that modern language and poetry are little suited to music and that we will never have good vocal music until we reform our language, on the example of the ancients, and give it quantitative poetic feet while forever proscribing the barbarous invention of rhyme.

Rhythmopoeia was often considered only in relation to vocal music by writers in the latter part of the eighteenth century, and it lost much of its interest as a theory of meter. It became instead a method of prosody.

Associations of emotional affect with the sound-feet of rhythmopoeia had been based on respect for classical authority. In Rousseau’s writing, respect for authority diminished considerably and individual intuition became the guide.

Mais d’où vient l’impression que font sur nous la mesure et la cadence? Quel est le principe par lequel ces retours, tantôt égaux et tantôt variés affectent nos âmes, et peuvent y porter le sentiment des passions? Demandez-le au métaphysicien: tout ce que nous pouvons dire ici est que, comme la mélodie tire son caractère des accents de la langue, le rhythme tire le sien du charactère de la prosodie, et alors il agit comme image de la parole: à quoi nous ajouterons que certaines passions ont dans la nature un caractère rhythmique aussi-bien qu’un caractère mélodieux, absolu, et indépendent de la langue; comme la tristesse, qui marche par temps égaux et lents, de même que par tons remises et bas; la joie par temps sautillants et vites, de même que par tons aigùes et intenses; d’où je présume qu’on pourroit observer dans toutes les autres passions un caractère propre, mais plus difficile à saisir, à cause que la plupart de ces autres passions étant composées, participent plus ou moins tant des précédentes que l’une de l’autre. ⁴⁷

But what causes the impression that is made on us by meter and cadences? What is the principle by which those repetitions, sometimes unchanged, sometimes varied, affect our souls and carry the passions? Ask the metaphysicians; all we can say here is that as melody draws its character from language accents, rhythm draws its essence from the nature of prosody and then acts as an image of the word. To this we may add that certain passions have a rhythmic as well as a melodious character that is absolute and independent of the language. Sadness, for example, moves in equal slow beats, with hesitant low notes. Joy moves with jumping quick beats, with high intense notes. From this I presume that one should be able to observe an individual character in all of the other passions, though this is difficult to do, because most of the others, being compounds, have more or less in common with the preceding passions as well as with one another.

From Descartes’s Les passions de l’âme, French aestheticians of the eighteenth century inherited the belief that every emotion had an observable character and that it could be expressed in an artistic work. The conventions based on this belief seem to have been well established. Humanist artists and scholars employed different conventions but shared the belief that: emotional character could be conveyed by artistic devices.

In subsequent writings, this rational approach based on observation rather than authority produced only passing mention of rhythmopoeia, or no mention at all.⁴⁸ Metrical feet, or the terms “spondaic” and “iambic,” were used, but without conviction. Rhythmopoeia was reduced to the following account by the early nineteenth-century English writer, John Callcott:

A small portion of Melody, with one principal Accent, including the value of a Measure, is termed in this work a Musical Foot.

The knowledge of this Rhythmic subdivision of Melody is of great importance in practical music; as the Singer must not take breath, nor the Performer on Keyed Instruments separate the Notes, in the Middle of a Foot.

It has been usual with some Authors (Printz, Sat. Comp. P. III, p. 100; Mattheson, Vollkom. Capel. Meister, p. 164.) to apply the names of the ancient poetical Feet to corresponding musical passages; but the difference between ancient and modern Quantity and Accent, leaves a doubt concerning the propriety of using the terms of Grecian Rhythm.⁴⁹

Callcott then went on to illustrate the setting of English metrical feet. A few pages later he wrote: “As a Musical Foot is equal in value to a Measure, although it differs in Accent, on account of the place of the Bar; so in the compound Measures the Feet are double, and may be resolved into two by dividing the Measure.”⁵⁰

“Accent” superseded all of the subtle distinctions of rhythmopoeia. Needless to say, no hint of the “doctrine of affections” is found in Dr. Callcott’s book.

Dr. Burney wrote what might be regarded as the epitaph of rhythmopoeia:

As to simplicity in music, there are degrees of it, which border upon dryness, rusticity, and vulgarity; and these, it is the business of every composer to avoid. However, some who call themselves lovers of simplicity, would reduce music to the same metrical laws as poetry, and make long and short syllables determine melody; which would be neither suffering more than one sound to be given to one syllable, nor a longer or shorter duration to that sound, than the poetical rhythmus requires; but in this case, what would vocal music be but a mere Recitative with which every one is tired and disgusted! Mankind will certainly judge of their own pleasures; and it is natural to suppose, that when a new style of composition or performance generally prevails among the refined part of them, that it has something more captivating in it than that which they quitted. However, caprice, vanity and a fondness for singularity, on one side, and obstinacy, pride, and prejudice, on the other, will always make it difficult to reconcile different sects, or to draw a line between truth and falsehood. ⁵¹

The chief problem in theories of rhythmopoeia was the relationship of measures, with their time signatures and regular bar lines, to the various and changing phrases made up of “musical feet.” In Mattheson’s theory, the measure and time signature were secondary to and supplementary to rhythmopoeia. Bar lines were ignored when they conflicted with “musical feet.” Printz’s theories of rhythmopoeia and the measure attempted to reconcile the two ideas by restricting the former. The inconsistencies in his explanation and his examples show, perhaps, that the two concepts cannot be reconciled, in relation either to accentual language or to musical practice.

Rhythmopoeia was a curious and rather irrational topic to explore in the Age of Reason. There were conflicting explanations regarding its nature, and we cannot gauge its influence on musical composition. However, it is a concept of meter that unites poetry and music without depending on accentuation. The flexible rhythmic units of “musical feet” could be applied to instrumental as well as vocal music, and the primary usefulness of rhythmopoeia may have been in providing a model for the meter of dance music.