Sigrid Undset and the English Catholic Martyrs

I've almost finished a biographical study of Sigrid Undset by Father Aidan Nichols, OP, published by Ignatius Press: Sigrid Undset: Reader of Hearts. In the course of his discussion of her conversion to Catholicism, Father Nichols reminded me that she had written about a couple of English Catholic martyrs of the Recusant era, Saint Robert Southwell, poet and Jesuit missionary, and Saint Margaret Clitherow, wife, mother of two Catholic priests, and protector of priests. (Neither had been canonized at the time, however.) He also notes that English Catholic authors had some influence on Undset's conversion.

Father Nichols examines these interests and influences in two chapters, one describing those contemporary English Catholic writers like Monsignor Robert Hugh Benson, Hilaire Belloc, and G.K. Chesterton (chapter 6, "The Thirties, or the Coming of War"). The other (chapter 9, "The Hagiographer") offers some details about how she depicted the lives, not just of Southwell and Clitherow, but also of Saints Edmund Campion and Philip Howard.

We'll be taking up this subject in a series on the Son Rise Morning Show in September, starting 9/14 (after the Labor Day hiatus), looking first at the contemporary English Catholic writers who accompanied Undset as she prepared to become a Catholic and then at those martyrs as she told their stories. English Catholicism, from the sixteenth to the twentieth century, was essential to Undset's conversion.

Since Bishop Fredrik Hansen of Oslo declared on July 8 that he would be opening a Cause for Undset's sainthood, she's been getting more attention.

Stay tuned for future updates on this story, as they used to say on the radio!

Preview: John Keble's "Ave Maria"

Since August is traditionally a month of special devotion to the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I thought it appropriate to highlight a Marian poem from John Keble's The Christian Year on the Son Rise Morning Show on Monday, August 17 (especially after celebrating the Solemnity of the Assumption). He included a poem on "The Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary" in his survey of the feasts of the Anglican liturgical year. 

He takes, of course, a verse from Saint Luke's Gospel as his inspiration, "And the Angel came in unto her, and said, Hail, thou that art highly favoured, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women." (1:28), but Keble also goes on at the end of the poem to reference Luke chapter 11 ("And it happened that, when he was saying these things, a certain woman from the crowd, lifting up her voice, said to him, “Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you.” Then he said, “Yes, but moreover: blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it.” 27-28):

Oh! Thou who deign’st to sympathise
With all our frail and fleshly ties,
   Maker yet Brother dear,
Forgive the too presumptuous thought,
If, calming wayward grief, I sought
   To gaze on Thee too near.

Yet sure ’twas not presumption, Lord,
’Twas Thine own comfortable word
   That made the lesson known:
Of all the dearest bonds we prove,
Thou countest sons and mothers’ love
   Most sacred, most Thine own.

When wandering here a little span,
Thou took’st on Thee to rescue man,
   Thou had’st no earthly sire:
That wedded love we prize so dear,
As if our heaven and home were here,
   It lit in Thee no fire.

On no sweet sister’s faithful breast
Wouldst Thou Thine aching forehead rest,
   On no kind brother lean:
But who, O perfect filial heart,
E’er did like Thee a true son’s part,
   Endearing, firm, serene?

Thou wept’st, meek maiden, mother mild,
Thou wept’st upon thy sinless Child,
   Thy very heart was riven:
And yet, what mourning matron here
Would deem thy sorrows bought too dear
   By all on this side Heaven?

A Son that never did amiss,
That never shamed His Mother’s kiss,
   Nor crossed her fondest prayer:
E’en from the tree He deigned to bow,
For her His agonised brow,
   Her, His sole earthly care.

Ave Maria! blessèd Maid!
Lily of Eden’s fragrant shade,
   Who can express the love
That nurtured thee so pure and sweet,
Making thy heart a shelter meet
   For Jesus’ holy dove?

Ave Maria!  Mother blest,
To whom, caressing and caressed,
   Clings the eternal Child;
Favoured beyond Archangels’ dream,
When first on Thee with tenderest gleam
   Thy new-born Saviour smiled:—

Ave Maria! thou whose name
All but adoring love may claim,
   Yet may we reach thy shrine;
For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows
To crown all lowly lofty brows
   With love and joy like thine.

Blessed is the womb that bare Him—blessed
The bosom where His lips were pressed,
   But rather blessed are they
Who hear His word and keep it well,
The living homes where Christ shall dwell,
   And never pass away.

He begins with meditation upon Our Lord, but turns soon to the relationship between Jesus and His Mother Mary. The use of "Ave Maria", a very Roman Catholic phrase, is balanced by Keble's reticence about devotion to the Mother of God ("All but adoring love may claim"), even though he hints at a coronation ("To crown all lowly lofty brows/With love and joy like thine.") I'd also call attention to the lovely reference to Mary at the foot of the Cross in the Gospel of John ("E’en from the tree He deigned to bow,/For her His agonised brow,/Her, His sole earthly care.") as a special aspect of Our Lord's love for His Mother, the Mother of God.

Nevertheless, his poem demonstrates the delicacy of the Oxford Movement leaders when they touched on matters that would seem "too Catholic" to some Anglicans. But when Newman prepared a sermon for the Annunciation in one of his Anglican Plain and Parochial Sermons, "The Reverence Due to the Virgin Mary" (Sermon 12 in Volume 2, with the verse from Luke 1:43 "From henceforth all generations shall call me blessed."), he seems to have to hinted at her sinlessness and virtue-- in contrast to our condition--although not according to our Catholic doctrine of the Immaculate Conception:

Observe the lesson which we gain for ourselves from the history of the Blessed Virgin; that the highest graces of the soul may be matured in private, and without those fierce trials to which the many are exposed in order to their sanctification. So hard are our hearts, that affliction, pain, and anxiety are sent to humble us, and dispose us towards a true faith in the heavenly word, when preached to us. Yet it is only our extreme obstinacy of unbelief which renders this chastisement necessary. The aids which God gives under the Gospel Covenant, have power to renew and purify our hearts, without uncommon providences to discipline us into receiving them. God gives His Holy Spirit to us silently; and the silent duties of every day (it may be humbly hoped) are blest to the sufficient sanctification of thousands, whom the world knows not of. The Blessed Virgin is a memorial of this; and it is consoling as well as instructive to know it. When we quench the grace of Baptism, then it is that we need severe trials to restore us. This is the case of the multitude, whose best estate is that of chastisement, repentance, supplication, and absolution, again and again. But there are those who go on in a calm and unswerving course, learning day by day to love Him who has redeemed {137} them, and overcoming the sin of their nature by His heavenly grace, as the various temptations to evil successively present themselves. And, of these undefiled followers of the Lamb, the Blessed Mary is the chief. Strong in the Lord, and in the power of His might, she "staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief;" she believed when Zacharias doubted,—with a faith like Abraham's she believed and was blessed for her belief, and had the performance of those things which were told her by the Lord. And when sorrow came upon her afterwards, it was but the blessed participation of her Son's sacred sorrows, not the sorrow of those who suffer for their sins.

Of course, as a Catholic priest, Newman would not only accept but defend the definition of the Doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, engaging in a written debate with another old Oxford Movement friend, E. B. Pusey!

Immaculate Heart of Mary, pray for us!

Saint John Henry Newman, pray for us! 

Preview: John Keble's "Silent Solitary Walk"

As we've been discussing John Keble's poems inspired by the readings and/or feasts of the liturgy, I've commented that they are not the greatest poetry in the English language but that they are well-composed and thoughtful compositions. In 1887, when Cassell and Company, London, published an edition of The Christian Year, the anonymous editor commented on Keble's verse, comparing and contrasting it to that of George Herbert or Henry Vaughan:

The power of Keble’s verse lies in its truth.  A faithful and pure nature, strong in home affections, full of love and reverence for all that is of heaven in our earthly lot, strives for the full consecration of man’s life with love and faith.  There is no rare gift of genius.  Keble is not in subtlety of thought or of expression another George Herbert, or another Henry Vaughan.  But his voice is not the less in unison with theirs, for every note is true, and wins us by its purity.  His also are melodies of the everlasting chime.

On Monday, August 10 on the Son Rise Morning Show, we'll examine the introductory poem, "Dedication" in which Keble admitted that he knew his limits; he can't compete with David or a "high-souled bard" like Herbert or Vaughan; he is feeble, "earth-palsied", wavering, and frail. Nevertheless, he seeks inspiration in prayer:

When in my silent solitary walk,
I sought a strain not all unworthy Thee,
My heart, still ringing with wild worldly talk,
Gave forth no note of holier minstrelsy.

Prayer is the secret, to myself I said,
Strong supplication must call down the charm,
And thus with untuned heart I feebly prayed,
Knocking at Heaven’s gate with earth-palsied arm.

Fountain of Harmony! Thou Spirit blest,
By whom the troubled waves of earthly sound
Are gathered into order, such as best
Some high-souled bard in his enchanted round

May compass, Power divine! Oh, spread Thy wing,
Thy dovelike wing that makes confusion fly,
Over my dark, void spirit, summoning
New worlds of music, strains that may not die.

Oh, happiest who before thine altar wait,
With pure hands ever holding up on high
The guiding Star of all who seek Thy gate,
The undying lamp of heavenly Poesy.

Too weak, too wavering, for such holy task
Is my frail arm, O Lord; but I would fain
Track to its source the brightness, I would bask
In the clear ray that makes Thy pathway plain.

I dare not hope with David’s harp to chase
The evil spirit from the troubled breast;
Enough for me if I can find such grace
To listen to the strain, and be at rest.

I warned Anna Mitchell that I would try to resist my English Major enthusiasm, but the mention of George Herbert and Henry Vaughan proved too much. One of my favorite English Lit classes was English 522A "Donne & the Metaphysical Poets", taught by the late Professor Frank Kastor (RIP) in the Spring of 19-- at Wichita State University. 

From Pastor Herbert: "Prayer (I)" in which each image invites meditation:

Prayer the church's banquet, angel's age,
God's breath in man returning to his birth,
The soul in paraphrase, heart in pilgrimage,
The Christian plummet sounding heav'n and earth
Engine against th' Almighty, sinner's tow'r,
Reversed thunder, Christ-side-piercing spear,
The six-days world transposing in an hour,
A kind of tune, which all things hear and fear;
Softness, and peace, and joy, and love, and bliss,
Exalted manna, gladness of the best,
Heaven in ordinary, man well drest,
The milky way, the bird of Paradise,
Church-bells beyond the stars heard, the soul's blood,
The land of spices; something understood.

And from Henry Vaughan, "Peace":

My Soul, there is a country
Afar beyond the stars,
Where stands a winged sentry
All skillful in the wars;
There, above noise and danger
Sweet Peace sits, crown’d with smiles,
And One born in a manger
Commands the beauteous files.
He is thy gracious friend
And (O my Soul awake!)
Did in pure love descend,
To die here for thy sake.
If thou canst get but thither,
There grows the flow’r of peace,
The rose that cannot wither,
Thy fortress, and thy ease.
Leave then thy foolish ranges,
For none can thee secure,
But One, who never changes,
Thy God, thy life, thy cure.

Book Review: Part Two: Nussbaum on Mozart's two "Masonic" Operas

Earlier this year when I reviewed Dietrich von Hildebrand's MOZART BEETHOVEN SCHUBERT from the Hildebrand Project I mentioned that he did not include any of Mozart's opera seria (Lucio Silla, Idomeneo, or La Clemenza di Tito). He referenced Mozart's Freemasonry and highlighted Die Zauberflöte, admitting the Masonic influence on that work:

It is true that Mozart was a Freemason, for at that time Freemasonry was not yet seen as incompatible with the Catholic faith [sic*]. This humanitarian fraternization was so much in fashion that Mozart and his father Leopold Mozart were Freemasons. But both were above all devout Catholics. . . .

Mozart's only significant work in which one could find a relation to Freemasonry is "The Magic Flute." . . . (page 20) 

They are not significant but Mozart did compose several Masonic themed works for specific lodge events in Vienna. 

*Since Pope Clement XII in 1738 had issued In eminenti apostolatus specula, forbidding Catholics to join Masonic lodges, I think that von Hildebrand is wrong.

But Martha Nussbaum argues in The Republic of Love that Mozart's 1781 opera seria, Idomeneo, Rei di Creta shows the influence of that "humanitarian fraternization" particularly in the characters of Idamante, the son of Idomeneo, and Ilia, the Trojan princess whom Idamante loves and who loves Idamante in spite of herself. Although Mozart had not yet joined a lodge in Vienna when he wrote Idomeneo, she notes he was already attracted to the fellowship and spirit of Freemasonry. 

She finds elements of the "Republic of Love" in this beautiful work, one I've watched on DVD or on-line and listened to several times on CD (the 1982 Metropolitan Opera production; the 1983 Glyndebourne production; the 1991 Philips CD, for example). The Glyndebourne production features a tenor Idamante--there's an earlier (1964) Glyndebourne production with Luciano Pavarotti in that role--he sang Idomeneo's part in the Met production when it premiered in that House. The Met has always had a mezzo-soprano Idamante in its casts, a practice Nussbaum believes appropriate.

2. Mozart and the Freemasons: Idomeneo and The Magic Flute

    Mozart the Freemason

    Mozart's Vienna

    Mozart Joins a Lodge

    Idomeneo: The Reign of Love

    The Magic Flute: Noble Ideals, Imperfect People

Some notes about the first three sections listed above: Nussbaum contends that by 1773 Mozart was drawn to Freemasonry. In Vienna in 1784 he joined the Beneficence Lodge, a more working-class, less elite gathering, and later joined New-Crowned Hope, which absorbed the membership of Beneficence. The Holy Roman Emperor, Joseph II, a man of the Enlightenment, allowed the Masons to gather, but dissolved the Catholic monasteries and convents (and controlled the ordination of priests in his empire). Nussbaum describes this as allowing religious freedom "within the bounds of Enlightenment rationalism" (p. 45). He did, however, reduce the number of Lodges in December, 1795 for fear of secret societies. Nussbaum also notes that the Lodges in Vienna were "not extremely anti-clerical" (p. 46) and that "Mozart was always a practicing Catholic." (p. 47) Among the ideals of Freemasonry Nussbaum cites are equality, brotherhood, the practice of certain rituals, and a calm acceptance of death. 

In the section on Idomeneo, Nussbaum offers an interpretation of the opera that made sense to me, noting the opera seria format with its deus ex machina intervention to resolve the ethical dilemma of the story. In this case the vow King Idomeneo of Crete has made to Neptune if he survives a storm and shipwreck: he will offer as sacrifice the first person he sees on shore. The first person he sees is his son, Idamante. He tries to evade that horrible offering by sending his son away to no avail. Only the intervention of an unidentified "Voice" from the gods to remove him from the throne and bring both Idamante and Ilia, the Trojan princess, to rule Crete brings about the triumph of love at the end.

I mentioned that Nussbaum prefers the casting of a mezzo-soprano Idamante; she believes it highlights both the "close harmonies in the Ilia-Idamante duet [beginning with "S’io non moro a questi accenti,"] and "Idamante's gender-atypical gentleness" because "Idamante [like Cherubino] is a tender, loving type of male who eschews the common male competition for honor and domination." (p. 51). Even his monster-slaying heroics offstage only prepare him for offering himself as the sacrifice required for his country's sake.

Nussbaum dedicates most of the chapter on this opera seria to "tracing two threads that run through [Idomeneo], the ethical growth of Ilia, and the emotional and ethical character of Idamante." (p. 55) Ilia's growth is traced through her three arias as she responds to "Idamante's capacity for love" (p. 57). They are contrasted to Elettra's (aka Electra) desire for revenge and lack of development, and the "well-intentioned but ineffectual" Idomeneo . She concludes with the idea that at the end of the opera, Idamante and Ilia's Crete represents an "enlightened autocracy with a larger space for human choice than was previously available" rather like HRE Joseph II's regime of reform (p. 62). 

Unless, of course, one was called to be a monk or a cloistered nun.

As for Die Zauberflote/The Magic Flute, upon which Mozart collaborated with Emanuel Schikaneder, Nussbaum's main point is that the opera depicts high ideals and tests of those high ideals which reveal both the successes and the failures of the characters to maintain them. She contends that those high "core ideals (reason, steadfastness, wisdom, brotherhood, and love) are those of the Masons (shared, of course, by many Enlightenment non-Masons)" (p. 63)

I think many non-Enlightenment, non-Masons have shared those ideals: they aren't exclusively Enlightenment-era core ideals or virtues.

Parallel to the section on Idomeneo, she emphasizes the ethical growth in Pamina, who leads Tamino through the completion of his initiation and shares the priestly robes in the Temple (like Ilia sharing the throne with Idamante). The two paragraphs on Papageno and Papagena and the three Genii (little boys) offer some rather ordinary insights--she notes how the Genii prevent two suicides (Pamina's and Papageno's) and, of course, that Papageno and Papagena provide most of the humor and the fun of the opera--and the bird catcher is not caught up in the Masonic initiation rites. If, as Nussbaum opines, "In general the opera's message is that one must follow one's own path and question claims to authority." (p. 69), Papageno has rejected those Masonic claims.

The musicologist David Joseph Buch has also rejected an overly Masonic interpretation. For example: 

"Die Zauberflöte, Masonic Opera, and Other Fairy Tales" in Acta Musicologica, [Vol.] 76, [Fasc.] 2 (2004), pp. 193-219 Published by: International Musicological Society. 

Image credit (Public Domain): The Arrival of the Queen of the Night

Image credit (Public Domain): Front page of a bilingual vocal score