AENEIS
Stefano Albarello Performs Fragments of the Aeneid Set to Music in the Early Middle Ages
The manuscript we have
examined is preserved at the Biblioteca Laurenziana in Florence. The
codex consists of 182 folios, measuring 25 x 17 cm. The first leaf
opens with a general commentary on the Aeneid in twelve hexameters;
almost every book, except the second and third, is preceded by brief
eleven-line commentaries, each with a title, chapter heading, and
rubric.
Beyond its value as evidence
of the diffusion of Virgil’s text in the Middle Ages, what interests us
here is the presence of verses from the Aeneid accompanied by musical
signs — adiastematic neumes of the St. Gall type. The handwriting of
the manuscript dates roughly to the 10th or 11th century, although
there are later additions, such as folio 101, probably from the 12th
century.
One plausible hypothesis is
that the codex passed through a monastery — perhaps even St. Gall — for
reasons unknown to us, where a monk added some pages and mottos. It may
have belonged to Benedictine monks for a time, likely as a study text.
This would not be surprising: Virgil’s works were commonly studied and
“centonized” (reworked into new compositions) in medieval schools. The
Aeneid served as a didactic tool for students of rhetoric; even St.
Augustine attests to its wide use in his time. This idea is supported
by the numerous annotations, including religious ones, scattered
throughout the parchment.
It should not be forgotten
that, beyond its literary function, the Aeneid was also interpreted as
an allegory of man’s anguished search for his true homeland — Heaven.
For this reason, Virgil was often described as possessing an anima
naturaliter christiana — a “naturally Christian soul,” a forerunner of
Christianity.
Perhaps this explains the
religious annotations found in the margins of the manuscript. On folio
77r, beside the description of Misenus’ funeral (Aeneid VI, 212–213:
Flebant et cineri ingrato suprema ferebant / Principio pinguem taedis
et robore secto), we find the note In celis Christus — “Christ in
Heaven” — whose meaning in this context is difficult to interpret.
(According to Fulgentius’ De continentia Virgiliana, Misenus’ burial
symbolizes the abandonment of vanity.) On folio 89v, next to Aeneid VI,
897 (His ibi tum natum Anchises unaque Sibyllam), is written Iesus
Christus filius aeternus Deus — “Jesus Christ, the eternal Son of God.”
At the end of both the Georgics and the Aeneid appears the pious
acclamation Amen laus Deo, Deo gratias.
Some later folios contain
insertions of sacred texts — for example, on folio 182 we find the
Notkerian sequence Iste dies celebris constant.
On folio 181v, beside Aeneid
XII, 926–950, we read Christe eleison, Kyrie eleison, and below it
Aufer a nobis Domine iniquitatis vias (“Remove from us, O Lord, the
ways of iniquity”), followed further on by Sanctus.
A remarkably similar case is
found in the codex lat. 7926 of the Bibliothèque nationale de Paris,
where on folio 154v (Aeneid VIII, 204–233) appears the inscription
Angelus Domini descendit de caelo et accedens resolvit lapidem — an
Alleluia verse from St. Gall. It is worth recalling that in the Middle
Ages, Hercules was imagined as an angelic figure; in the Laurenziana
codex CXII of the Strozzi Library (9th century), the final scene of the
Cacus episode (folio 125v) depicts Hercules dressed as a knight
fighting a monstrous beast. Likewise, in 14th- and 15th-century
Virgilian manuscripts, illuminated initials portray Aeneas and his
companions as medieval lords.
Returning to the musical
notation, we can affirm that the neumes are typical of sacred chant.
However, it is worth noting that certain goliardic songs — such as
those from the Cambridge Songs and later the Carmina Burana — have come
down to us with a similar notation. The same tradition is found in
certain epic compositions of St. Martial of Limoges, such as those in
manuscript lat. 1150.
The fact that verses by a
non-Christian author were set to music is not unique. We might recall
Horace’s Ode to Phyllis (Est mihi novum), preserved in codex 425 of the
Faculty of Medicine in Montpellier, or the Ode to Albius Tibullus,
notated in neumes in the library of Franeker in Friesland.
We cannot know why an
anonymous student added neumatic notation to Virgil’s verses — nor
whether these were meant for actual singing or merely as a scholastic
exercise.
Nevertheless, given the great
popularity of Virgil’s poetry in the Middle Ages, it is not impossible
to imagine that some of his verses were indeed sung.
The cultural context in which
our document originated was one of renewed intellectual and musical
vitality. Alongside sacred chant, a new lyrical and musical tradition
was emerging — as exemplified by the Carmina Cantabrigiensia, which
gathers diverse poetic and musical tendencies.
The scholastic movement had
created fertile ground for the study of classical authors. It was the
age of rhythmic, epic-style compositions — such as Paulinus of
Aquileia’s Versus de Henrico Duce.
It was also an age when
schools found their voice: the taste for classical poetry was still
alive, now coexisting with new rhythmic genres. Around this time,
Notker the Stammerer developed his rhythmic-syllabic method by setting
verses from an antiphonary to music.
The musical fragments of the
Aeneid focus on direct speech and emotional passages; the music acts as
a support for the words, reinforcing their rhythmic flow and creating
an instinctive movement in the language.
Two fragments come from Book
IV of the Aeneid: Dido’s despair is expressed with tragic elegance, and
our anonymous composer seems inspired to heighten her torment through
musical emphasis and sound.
Perhaps what moved this
unknown scribe was the almost Christian breath of spirituality that the
medieval mind perceived in Virgil’s verses.
In De continentia Virgiliana, Fulgentius explains the allegorical meaning of the Aeneid:
I – The shipwreck of Aeneas symbolizes the birth of man.
II–III – Childhood and the
world of marvels; the Cyclops with his single eye represents limited
intellect and pride. The death of Anchises marks the end of childhood.
IV – Man gives himself over to pleasure and illicit passions (Dido) until Mercury’s warning restores his reason.
V – The return of wisdom: filial remembrance and the games in honor of Anchises.
VI – The invocation of wisdom
(the temple of Apollo); the abandonment of vanity (Misenus’ burial);
and the quest for truth (the descent into the underworld).
VII – The soul becomes wise.
VIII – The soul learns the triumphs of good and evil (Hercules and Cacus).
IX–XII – The battle against evil and the triumph of wisdom.©Stefano Albarello
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