Jew of Mantua: Salomone Rossi


Article Review: “Tradition and Innovation in Jewish Music of the Later Renaissance” by Don Harrán
(Journal of Musicology: Vol. 7, No. 1) Winter 1989


As part of a series of articles about Jewish composers of the 16th and 17th centuries, Don Harrán here concentrates on the enigmatic presence of “Songs of Solomon (1622/23),” a collection of polyphonic Hebrew songs by Jewish composer Salamone Rossi. Harrán attempts to historically situate this collection, and by implication, the notion of “Jewish Music of the Later Renaissance” within the context of traditional musical scholarship. He stresses the novelty of the collection, and presents the case that it is the result of a unique “cultural fusion,” between the Jewish religious establishment and the “non-Jewish”-- namely, the aesthetic sense cultivated in the larger European community through Church and secular musical practices.

Rossi was the object of earlier scrutiny in Harrán’s “Salamone Rossi, Jewish Musician in Renaissance Italy” (Acta musicologica LIX (1987)), and so, little is said about his earlier career, except that he had previously published secular instrumental and Italian vocal works, for which he was fairly well known.¹ He lived in Mantua and was a composer in the Gonzaga court² at the end of a period of relative safety, before the Jews were finally expelled from Mantua in 1630³ .

Harrán focuses on “Songs of Solomon,” in this article, because it specifically demands answers about the nature of Rossi’s role in Renaissance society--as both Court musician and Jew. At a time when the Jewish population was required to live in ghetto, and each Jewish inhabitant had to identify itself with a badge, Rossi was a valued member of the Gonzaga court. In his book, Salamone Rossi, Jewish Musician in Late Renaissance Mantua, Harrán gives evidence that Rossi may have conducted the first performance of Monteverdi’s Orfeo.
Thus, the collection “Songs of Solomon,”in many ways typifies Rossi himself. It is a relic of a forgotten subculture, which requires explanation in order to understand a concept such as “Jewish Music of the Later Renaissance.”
Harrán begins with comments by rabbi Leona da Modena, a contemporary of Rossi, he then attempts to simultaneously explore the “tradition” and “innovation,”of the collection, dividing his paper into five easily followed categories. These are: 1) apparent innovations in Rossi’s collection; 2) their place in the “broader Jewish heritage,” 3) their relationship with the more familiar traditions of Christian music, 4) a reappraisal of “innovation,” by appealing to “cultural fusion,” and finally 5) a discussion of the collection as a case of this cultural mediation.

On the surface, according to Harrán, this music appears innovative because of its break with the traditional (and still preeminent) practices of Jewish religious cantillation, which are modally unique and fixed, and always monophonic. The style of “Songs of Solomon” indicate that Rossi’s break with ranks comes from the melding of his simultaneous roles of Jew and composer, borrowing the craft of Gentile art to express a Jewish voice. He thus creates a cultural hybrid by combining tradition with composerly craft.

This led Rossi, and contemporaries like Modena, to a unique stance toward their own tradition, forcing them to compromise their response to Jewish law. Like many generations of diaspora (scattered) Jews, they found themselves at odds with the Orthodox establishment, who rejected the standards of their Gentile sovereigns. In response, the reformers created a series of arguments that attempted to justify the new art, particularly by appealing to European formal standards of beauty as well as selectively revisionist Talmudic arguments, and an appeal to divine inspiration. This did not, however, result in a wholesale dismissal of traditional practice, but rather a new stripe of formalism that incorporated elements of both culture.

The music itself, though not discussed in depth, was treated as a unique cultural fusion which internally emphasized the dual standards of its practitioners. Just as the Latin and Italian languages themselves help to determine the musical content of Italian music, Hebrew, the Synagogue, and Jewish standards help to determine the emphases of Jewish music. Despite the fact that Rossi’s contrapuntal style was developed from the standards of the Madrigal, it was stripped more or less bare to appear properly prayer-like . In this way, argues Harrán, the real innovation of the music was its adaptation of European forms to suit the specific needs of the synagogue composer. Simply exchanging one tradition for another is not innovation, per se, but rather a symptom of the Western culture’s sociopolitical chauvinism.
The uniqueness of the collection, then, comes from its innovation of “cultural fusion,” the aesthetic decisions a new cultural perspective feeds into the stylistic dialogue, and the necessary ambiguity that arises from the unconditioned response to this relatively obscure tradition, which makes up its own rules as it goes along.

It is intriguing to follow Harrán through the equally unfamiliar terrain of Renaissance society and its Jewish subculture, represented by the figures of Rossi and his mentor and apologist, rabbi Leone da Modena. His cross-displinary vocabulary and critical methodology is, I assume, at least partially prompted by a paucity of historical information which can “speak for itself.” However, I was disappointed to find that no actual examples of the music were described or deconstructed, despite his discussion of its stylistic elements.

After looking at the music myself, I felt that Harrán’s words carried more meaning. I feel Harrán was right in declaring the idea of “cultural fusion” the most interesting aspect of the enigmatic collection. Ultimately, this is not music which makes up its own rules as it goes along. On a stylistic level, at least, it takes very few gambits. It’s just very austere polyphonic music that happens to be in Hebrew. There isn’t any evidence that it advanced the stylistic dialogue of Jewish composers, because there isn’t much evidence of other Jewish polyphonic composers anywhere composing Hebrew music in this fashion, and it wouldn’t be until the 19th century that the idea of a “musical composition” became important in the Jewish religion. If Harran were to elucidate a particular piece from the collection, it could only be to show the novelty of the collection. Ultimately, this work is most interesting as an example of cultural fusion, and as a novelty, because as a polyphonic setting, it makes great pains to not appear stylistically innovative.

I find this interesting because it raises questions about the possible cultural schizophrenia Rossi may have felt. As a court composer, his creative talents were appreciated, but the subject matter that inspired him most, like many Renaissance composers, was his religion. And, outside of a small minority of more-or-less “enlightened” rabbis, his religion didn’t value the kind of creativity that this non-Jewish employers fostered. It is difficult to spell out all the reasons for this Jewish non-acceptance of Western notions of “Art.” Among them is the prohibition against overt celebration in the synagogue in a time of mourning for the fallen Temple. But distinguishing oneself from the Goyim (the Nations) has always been an even greater preoccupation among small Jewish communities.

There were many famous composers named Rossi in Mantua who did finally get their chance to write devotional music by converting to Christianity. It is difficult to know what Rossi was attempting to say when we wrote Songs of Solomon. Was it a statement of dual identity, a response to these converts? As a valued member of court, Rossi was allowed to remove his badge and live outside the ghetto. Perhaps Songs of Solomon was his expression of guilt and confusion--an attempt to give something back to the Jewish community. Less than five years later, the Jews of Mantua were exiled.


Other resources used:

Harrán, Don. Salamone Rossi: Jewish Musician in Late Renaissance Mantua. Oxford University Press, 1999.

Rossi, Salamon. Hashirim Asher Lish’lomo (The Songs of Solomon). New York: The Jewish Theological Seminary of America, 1973.

¹ Harran’s book, Salamone Rossi, Jewish Musician in Late Renaissance Mantua gives these numbers: Rossi wrote 144 secular works in Italian, 130 Instrumental works, and 33 sacred works in Hebrew. pg. 42

² Harran gives a longer biographical sketch in the above book, giving some interesting facts about Rossi’s life in the Gonzaga court.

³ ibid, pg. 25