There is an enormous difference
in the power music has in this fifteenth century work and what it had when
St. Guthlac was being attacked by the knobby-kneed demonic hordes in the
8th century. Henryson's music has power only insofar as it is
intellectually correct. No amount of gemilling, however, can make
Orpheus' emotionless, slow-working music the equal to the olifant, with
its life and world-changing powers. By the time Henryson writes this
poem, the greater part of music's power has disappeared, and it has begun
to become what it is now: a form of entertainment. Perhaps it is not even
a particularly engaging, judging from Orpheus' audiences' responses of
fleeing or falling asleep. Nor is the need for the music as pressing as
it is in Erec and Enide. Nature, in its wisdom, tries to convince
Orpheus not to ply his musical trade to release his affection, Eurydice,
from Hell. It tries to make him more content with his lot. Music has
lost the deep power it had in the early Middle Ages, when it was an almost
supernatural, magical force. By the time Henryson write Orpheus and
Eurydice, music is controlled entirely by reason.
The way music is presented in
these works mirrors some of the larger trends of the Middle Ages. By the
end of the Middle Ages, music and its power are secularized. In Guthlac
and Roland, the music is inexorably bound to God, and faith in God. In
Erec and Enide the music is magical, if not Christian, and carries the
promise of perhaps more power than it shows. By the time Sir Orfeo
was written, music was still powerful, but its universal power had been
lost. No longer did music create an aura around its performer. During
his time as a hermit Orfeo was only powerful while he was playing. Music
in Sir Orfeo and Orpheus and Eurydice was also secular. In
the romance of Sir Orfeo, almost nothing is said about God, and there is
certainly no indication that Orfeo's music is a God-given gift bestowed to
permit Orfeo to protect himself or further God's plan.
Music becomes less universal
across the scope of these works. On the battlefield at Rencesvals, the
fate of thousands, if not the fate of whole nations, rests upon a decision
about whether or not to blow the horn. In Orpheus and Eurydice,
almost nothing rests upon the music. Indeed, the goals attempted through
song are not achieved, and the implication is that perhaps the goals were
not worth achieving. Nothing is changed from the beginning of the story
to the end, except that Orpheus becomes a better musician by becoming more
intellectually astute. There is the transition from the epic mindset
where, as Chrysostom says, the wrong sort of music has the power to
"overthrow everything" (Chrysostom 68) to the romances of Sir
Orfeo, where at best music can earn the right to a gift, and there is
no counterbalancing evil music.
In these tales music makes a
transition from magical to rational. For Guthlac, the psalms pit God's
magic against the magic of the devil, and in nearly every case win. In
Roland, the strange ability of the olifant to communicate so much and so
clearly to Charlemagne, as well as the olifant's mortal wound to Roland,
exceed the possibilities of reality. In Erec and Enide, the
magical horn is the guardian and key to a magical garden. By the time
Sir Orfeo is written, however, the magical powers of music are
becoming more limited - only nature responds in an unexpected way, and
even that response is extremely limited. In Orpheus and Eurydice,
all the power music has is related to its rationality and near-scientific
status. Nature does not respond at all to Orpheus' music, it responds to
the grieving musician. Similarly, the guardians of Hell are moved by the
Thracian king's harping only because he has mastered the understanding of
modes. Music still has power but it does not come from magic.
In much medieval literature, as in
medieval history, most power still comes from the warrior whose sword is
unbreakable and whose valor is unquestioned. Even in the perpetual
warfare of the Middle Ages, however, there were ways of gaining power that
do not revolve around violence, spiritual influence, or even money. Music
could control demons, events, magic, and those who listened to it, and so
doing could give the musician a degree of power. The warrior, too, used
his trumpet to change the world around him, an act which is certainly
powerful. It is important that in reading medieval literature, listening
to medieval music and viewing medieval art, the role of the music in those
creations not be dismissed as merely decorative. The power of music is
present in these works, and cannot be dismissed.