Hadrian's Wail

245 CLAREMONT

Shape note music has been called crude and unsophisticated, especially by music critics schooled in standard Western music theory; less so by musicologists and others willing to look beyond what is considered classic music. Still, some songs found in The Sacred Harp aspire to a kind of nuance and sophistication appreciated by Western music theory. These songs are found especially among the odes and anthems in The Sacred Harp. They are sometimes called “class music,” because they were meant to be sung as a kind of a capstone of a singing master’s instruction: they were meant not so much to be sung in a worship setting, but to be performed by a class.

One such song is 245, CLAREMONT. Called VITAL SPARK in the Cooper edition of The Sacred Harp, it is a setting of Alexander Pope’s poem, “The dying Christian to his soul.” In this, the inaugural issue of Vital Sparks, we’ll look at this poem and its history. One even might say that parts of this poem date back to the fourth century C.E.

Alexander Pope was one of the most renown poets of 18th century England. He liked to read, write, and talk about ancient classical literature; it was his translation of Homer that made him famous (and, apparently, a lot of money). One of his friends, a Sir Richard Steele, wrote him in 1712:

This is to desire of you that you would please to make an Ode as of a chearful dying spirit. that is to say, the Emperor Adrian’s Animula vagula put into two or three stanzas for music. If you comply with this, and send me word so you will very particularly oblige Your &tc.

Richard Steele
Letter from Richard Steele to Popee

Letter from Richard Steele to Alexander Pope

These days, we usually call “the Emporor Adrian” Hadrian. Hadrian was a Roman emperor in the second century. He is perhaps best known for erecting “Hadian’s wall” to mark the northern border of Britannia; this is still standing in the United Kingdom. He is featured in a biography of twelve Roman emperors and sundry others in a work from the fourth century or so called The Historia Augusta. In this history, there is a poem purported to be written by Hadrian on his death bed. It reads:

Animula, vagula, blandula,
hospes comesque corporis,
quae nunc abibis in loca,
pallidula, rigida, nudula,
nec, ut soles, dabis iocos?

Here’s a literal translation, based on various sources:

Sweet little traveling soul,
My body’s guest and companion,
Where are you going now?
You pale, stiff, naked thing—
You won’t be making your usual jests.

It’s a pretty dismal final thought, and it’s no wonder that Sir Richard wanted a more “chearful” poem. As it turns out, Alexander Pope actually translated Animula, vagula, calling it The heathen to his departing soul. It goes like this:

Ah fleeting Spirit! wand’ring Fire,
That long hast warm’d my tender Breast,
Must thou no more this Frame inspire?
No more a pleasing, chearful Guest ?

Whither, ah whither art thou flying!
To what dark, undiscover’d Shore?
Thou seem’st all trembling, shivr’ing, dying,
And Wit and Humour are no more!

Pope answered Steele’s letter almost immediately. He wrote:

I do not send you word I will do, but have already done the thing you desire of me. You have it (as Cowley calls it) just warm from the brain. It came to me the first moment I waked this morning: Yet, you’ll see it was not so absolutely inspiration, but that I had in my head not only the verses of Adrian but the fine fragment of Sappho, &c.

Alexander Pope
Response to Richard Steelee

Response to Richard Steele

And here is the ode that he wrote:

The dying Christian to his soul

I.
Vital spark of heav’nly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame;
Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife,
And let me languish into life.

II.
Hark! they whisper; Angels say,
Sister Spirit, come away!
What is this absorbs me quite,
Steals my senses, shuts my sight,
Drowns my spirits, draws my breath?
Tell me, my soul, can this be Death?

III.
The world recedes; it disappears!
Heav’n opens on my eyes! my ears
With sounds seraphic ring:
Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!
O Grave! where is thy Victory?
O Death! where is thy Sting?

Hadrian’s “trembling, shivr’ing, dying” (as translated by Pope) becomes “Trembling, hoping, ling’ring, flying,” and rather than mocking the dying body, the Christian languishes into life; longing to quit its mortal frame as the world recedes and disappears. Hadrian’s soul flies into death, but the Christian soul flies into the sights and sounds of heaven. He quotes from St. Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, which reads (in King James’s English, the version Pope would have used):

Behold, I shew you a mystery; We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed, In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. So when this corruptible shall have put on incorruption, and this mortal shall have put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory?

The sting of death is sin; and the strength of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Corinthians 15:51-57

There is a bit of a footnote to this story. Pope might have taken some of the lines of his poem from another poet, named Thomas Flatman, who was a 17th century English poet and painter.

In a book called An Essay on the Genius and Writings of Pope in two Volumes by a Joseph Warton written in 1806 or so, Warton writes:

It is possible however that our author might have had another composition in his head besides those he here refers to for there is a close and surprising resemblance between this ode of POPE and one of an obscure and for gotten rhymer of the age of Charles the Second namely Thomas Flatman from whose dunghill as well as from the dregs of Crashaw, of Cadew, of Herbert, and others (for it is well known he was a great reader of all those poets) POPE has very judiciously collected gold And the following stanza is perhaps the only valuable one Flatman has produced:

When on my sick bed I languish,
Full of sorrow, full of anguish,
Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying;
Methinks I hear some gentle spirit say,
Be not fearful, come away!

Joseph Warton

Clearly, Warton did not have a high opinion of Flatman, but it appears that Pope thought this verse, at any rate, was useful as inspiration for The dying Christian to his soul!