Tag Archives: history

Caravaggio’s Beheading of St. John the Baptist

The Beheading of John the Baptist – Michaelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio

This image, while certainly the largest of Caravaggio’s works, is also in many ways the most disturbing. There is a great power in it, but it is also very dark without any apparent redemption. Like some of Caravaggio’s other works, it is a motif on violence, without any positive resolution, much the same as with violence in the real world. Judgment is for the next life, in this world, evil often seems to be unpunished. This is completely different from the same painter’s martyrdom of St. Matthew (Contarelli Chapel, St. Luigi dei Francesci, Rome), where as the center figure, a pagan who has masqueraded as a catechumen, is about to finish off St. Matthew, an angel, invisible to all but the saint, through a cloud lowers the palm branch, the victory of the martyr. Not so here.

History

This painting hangs in St. John’s co-cathedral in La Valetta, Malta, which in Caravaggio’s time was under control of the old crusading order, the Knights Hospitalers of St. John, and was their chapter house. The knights ruled Malta (whose inhabitants were mostly knights, a handful of European traders, and the local Maltese population) by a strict military code, and the grand master was the final authority of the island, against which there was no appeal. In this time, around 1607, the Knights enjoyed a new renown, for their victory over the Turks in 1565, which prevented an Ottoman invasion of western Europe. They christened the western part of the island La Valetta, after the name of the French Grand Master La Valette, who had engineered the defense against the Turks. It was considered very prestigious to be a knight, and many noble families placed children in the order (who were often ill-suited to it).

Portrait_of_Alof_de_Wignacourt_and_his_Page-Caravaggio_(1607-1608)

Alof de Wignacourt -Caravaggio

In 1607, the Grandmaster, Alof de Wignacourt had a major problem. La Valetta was a bit of a backwater. Malta was not considered a place of culture at the time, and people did not tend to frequent it that often, being a barren military outpost. What does an artist normally want when he paints a masterpiece? In an age where there is no tv, the way to reach people is to have them walk inside a church and see it. Not many people will do this in Malta. Thus Wignacourt had been unable to get artists to come to Malta, let alone become knights. Enter Michaelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio.

There are some artists whom we know quite a bit about because they wrote their lives (such as Michaelangelo Buonarotti), or because others wrote a good deal about them (Such as Versari in his Le Vite degli artisti), or because they were dodgy characters who were always in court, such as the goldsmith Cellini or Rembrandt. Of the third class is Caravaggio. His violent temper and difficulties with other artists frequently got him into legal trouble. In 1606, he killed another ruffian in a duel, Ranuccio Tomassoni, by the Tennis Courts on the via della Scroffa (today, a mechanic’s shop) which, ironically, was on the same street as St. Luigi of the French, where his St. Matthew series had made him famous. Now he was to become infamous, as dueling was illegal in the Papal States, and Caravaggio, having fled, was given the sentence in absentia of abunde capitale, authorizing anyone to kill him on behalf of the state (The Pope) and then claim their reward by bringing in his head. Caravaggio had fled first to Naples, where patrons kept him afloat, then to Sicily, and at last to Malta. At first he had attempted to buy his reconciliation from Cardinal Scipione Borghese, the nephew of Pope Paul V and administrator of Papal Justice, by painting for him. He had done this in the past to get out of trouble, and tried again with his famous David and Goliath depicting his self-portrait as the decapitated monstrous Goliath, with the obvious implication that Borghese could have his head in paint if he could but keep it in life. This particular painting is incorrectly dated to the end of Caravaggio’s life (as in Simon Schama’s otherwise powerful documentary, The Power of Art, where he overlooks the fact that the David and Goliath enters the Borghese collection in 1606, the same year as the duel, not 1611 when he died. It made for great drama, but it simply wasn’t historically accurate).

Tomassoni’s family, however, was too strong for him to grant a pardon. With that having failed, it was now presented to him that he could gain a pardon by becoming a knight of Malta. This was a tricky business because a convicted murderer did not normally get considered for entrance into the Knights, and approval would have to come from the Pope.

As soon as Wignacourt heard about Caravaggio’s arrival and intentions, he was delighted. He saw immediately the solution to his problems. He would at last have a painter, and one who was considered the greatest at that, and he would be able to keep him. That was the trick really, he understood well that Caravaggio wanted a pardon so he could return to Rome, as well as the prestige that being a Knight of Malta would give him, and Wignacourt knew that once Caravaggio became a knight, he could not leave without his permission. Problem solved. At least it appeared that way. Events would prove otherwise, as we shall note later.

Caravaggio buttered up Wignacourt with two excellent portraits, (one above, the other is St. Jerome writing) which the latter was pleased with. He also painted portraits for other Knights and royal patrons of other knights (like the Sleeping Cupid, or the Annunciation for the Duke of Lorraine). The prudent Grandmaster petitioned Pope Paul V (whose name is on the front of St. Peter’s) for a pardon for Caravaggio, but he took care not mention the name of who it was, and this was received in May of 1608. The last test Wignacourt laid before Caravaggio was to paint the altar piece of the St. John for what is today the Co-Cathedral, at that time the Knights’ Chapter house in La Valletta, depicting the Church’s titular saint John the Baptist, which was to be ready before the feast of the Beheading of St. John the Baptist, when it would be unveiled.

The Painting

The figures are life-sized, to give the knights the sense that this is a real life drama happening before them. Oil painting became the supreme art in the late 15th century after painters like Van Eyck in the Netherlands were able to accomplish what oils had not to that point, make the dead come to life. What Caravaggio does, is not merely make the pictures look lifelike, but to act life-like as well, with a strength and intensity that had not been seen before in European art.

The beheading of John the Baptist, as we noted is very dark. It is certainly the masterpiece of Caravaggio’s later period, and it is the only one to be signed by him in name. It depicts, of course, St. John, his executioner, a soldier, Salome with a golden platter to receive the head of St. John the Baptist and an old woman. The interpretation of the old woman differs amongst art historians. Some think it is actually Herodias, the wife that Herod Antipas had forced his brother to divorce so he could marry her. This interpretation is interesting, and we will take it up later. The other is that she is a bystander who sees the horror of the act, and thus represents us, standing inside the painting and yet outside too, demolishing the barrier between the painting’s space, and our space.

There is a lot to look at here. The space creates a paradox, like a sudden silence in a noisy place, which seems louder than the previous noise by its contrast. The space fills the painting, though it is empty, with foreboding, and horror. This is the point of the two prisoners in the corner who are doing their utmost to have a look. The atmosphere is so terrible, that men of that sort are attracted to it, so that they might see the dirty work carried on.

Judith beheading Holofernes
-Caravaggio
Barberini Palace Museum, Rome

Caravaggio painted a number of beheadings, among which are a Medusa’s head, his own in the famous David and Goliath, which is often incorrectly dated to after this period, when in fact it enters the Borghese collection in 1606, two years before this. The only thing that compares is his beheading of Holofernes by Judith, which explores the pathos between sex and violence. This painting, however, explores the connection, on the one hand, between the state and violence in the person of the soldier, on the other, the fair and innocent who partake in violence in the person of Salome, to which we can add our mixed reaction to it, in the person of the old woman.

Take the Soldier, he is the embodiment of authority, but he is commanding an atrocity, the execution of an innocent man, something authority is supposed to prevent (in a way, in Caravaggio’s own head at least, it is an allusion to his own treatment in life). At least it seems that way, and many modern art historians have liked to find a commentary on the death penalty here, as they are given to reading modern issues into older works. The reality is, it is not state violence as such that Caravaggio presents, but the violence of infidels. The soldier is a Turkish soldier, and since the Fall of Constantinople a century and a half earlier, the word Turk had replaced Saracen in the European lexicon for brutality and barbarity. The executioner goes to his task like to some simple mechanical work. He has made a mess of the job, and so he reaches back to grab a sharp knife, lifting St. John’s hair to finish separating the head, which is half off and bloody. This messy scene is so because this Church, the chapter house, is where new entrants into the Knights of Malta will be initiated into its harsh discipline, and prepared for the fact they could die in such a cruel manner in some distant land for the faith. It also recalls the struggle against the Turks in 1565, a reminder that the enemy was still on the sea, and this could be reality, even here (as the jail scene looks like one of the Knight’s jails in Castel Sant’Angelo.

Next, let’s look at Salome, with her pure white arms carrying a golden plate. Normally, a woman is depicted with fair white skin, because a) the modern craze for wearing less than underwear to the beach or pool hadn’t taken hold yet, b) women of noble birth were protected in the houses of royalty, to be prepared for the soft trappings of noble life. Any woman who was tan was a peasant who worked in the sun. A woman as Salome is depicted, would be expected to be a warm, innocent lady who should have no place in this scene. We know, however, from the biblical account, that she has been complicit in the crime since the first, and she does not bat an eye or even twitch as this gruesome act is carried out.

Now the old woman. Some have suspected it is Herodias, and if so it would be very interesting, as an image of contrition, now that it comes to seeing the blood, she can’t quite bring herself to accept it, wanting to scream, like so many royal killers who normally stand back from their handiwork. But I don’t think this is what Caravaggio is depicting. If we look at, for example, Judith and Holofernes (above), there is an old woman present, almost urging Judith on. This is her maid. Likewise, Salome would have a maid present, since a woman of the status of Salome would have had a maid with her at all times, particularly when going into a dingy prison with dodgy soldiers and executioners. More than likely she is assisting Salome, but she can’t quite aid in such an appalling task. What startles her is the blood gushing from the jugular of a St. John that, in this painting, never really dies, that is in an everlasting agony. Yet there is another detail, she is aghast at the sight, but she covers her ears, not her eyes. This is curious as the medium is to be looked at. It is on the one hand, a way of expressing the gurgling scream that must come forth from such a brutal beheading, by expressing the scream. The other fact is it does what Caravaggio is famous for, demolishing the barrier between us and the painting. As Andrew Graham-Dixon notes, “She stands for Christian pity and prayer.” (Caravaggio: a life sacred and profane, pg. 379).

At last, the figure of St. John himself. He has a read cloak draped over him haphazardly, and beneath him is sheep’s wool. The former symbolizes martyrdom, and the latter the innocent lamb led to the slaughter, which is a type of Christ. Although this is ostensibly depicting the martyrdom of St. John, the saint is not the center-point of the painting, rather the executioner is. This calls to mind, again, Caravaggio’s The Martyrdom of St. Matthew, which he painted for the Contarelli chapel many years before, mentioned above. In that painting, the assassin, not St. Matthew is the center of the paining, because sin dominates this world, yet there is still salvation. Caravaggio shows St. Matthew’s blood flowing into a baptismal pool, which we see in theology, the Res tantum, the very matter of baptism, is death. Mystically we’re being put to death to sin, and brought back to life with Christ, but the actual fulfillment of baptism is death in a state of grace. Caravaggio has masterfully depicted baptism of blood, as it applies to the martyr. He has signed his name, F Michaelangelo, “F” standing for Fra (Brother) in St. John’s blood. In a spiritual sense, beheading_john_baptist6 the theological merit of the martyr allows for Caravaggio’s forgiveness for a murder, and materially the painting of his martyrdom, of his blood in which Caravaggio has signed his name, has made him reborn, as a man liberated from his death sentence, automatically commuted when he will have entered the ranks of the Knights of Malta, which this painting earns for him.

Epilogue

It would make a fantastic story if that was how it all went, but tragically it did not. At first it turned out well, Caravaggio was made a knight of Malta, and declared the greatest of all painters. He now had prestige as a knight, and the 17th century would witness artists receiving marks of status, such as Valezquez, who was made a knight of Santiago, Boromini would become a knight of the Holy Cross, Rubens would be knighted both by Philip IV of Spain and Charles I of England, Bernini who was made a Papal knight. Though it is not recorded, we can safely assume that at this point Caravaggio discovered that he would not be able to return to Rome as soon as he had hoped. This disappointment would fester, and within a month of his being a Knight of St. John, he and some other knights assaulted a high ranking knight, and in the code of manhood of the day defaced his door, as well as kicking in the door of a musician. For a long time this detail was not known, and numerous wild theories about Caravaggio’s crime circulated amongst researches, ranging from acts of sodomy to some form of satanic worship. We now know it was none of this, that it had entirely to do with assaulting a brother knight, thanks to Maltese historian Keith Scribberas, who in 2002 took the step of X-raying some old documents which had been smeared with pitch to hide their contents. (Caravaggio, Dixon, pg. 387) The Knight was Brother Giovanni Rodomonte Roero, an administrator of the Knight’s Justice, and we can be certain that he is the one who assaulted Caravaggio in Naples, which left him badly disfigured, and ultimately led to his death. For unknown reasons Caravaggio and 6 other knights made the assault, which also included a pistol. It could be Caravaggio figured out he would not be allowed to leave Malta, and his irritation had concord with the grievances of these other knights who had issue with this particular Justice.

Nevertheless, the assault proved embarrassing for Wignacourt, as on 29 August he unveiled the painting for the feast of the beheading of St. John the Baptist. Caravaggio, who had painted it, was thrown in prison, the guva, a deep underground prison which was thought to have been filled in by the British, but was discovered to still be there in all its terror in the 1970s. High ranking as well as low ranking knights were in jail, one of the assailants was even a deacon and had to be laicized. At the same time, the broken door of the Maltese choirmaster was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and the musicians went on strike over pay, and other matters. Thus neither was there a solemn Mass or a Solemn Vespers, on the patronal feast of the Knights of St. John. The whole event was a disaster for Wignacourt, guaranteeing he would not be merciful. No one had ever escaped from the guva, but that was no obstacle for Caravaggio. It would have been all but impossible without the aid of someone else, involving as it did scaling high walls, lowering himself into the harbor and finding a boat. His escape, no matter how it happened, made him a fugitive from the Knight’s justice, and they formally expelled him from the order. He fled to Sicily where he painted a number of paintings, and was an instant celebrity wherever he went, and then back to Naples, where he was beaten and left for dead, almost certainly by Roero. Not long after, he would attempt to go to Rome with the promise of a pardon from the Pope’s nephew, Scipione Borghese, but he died on the way there, which we will take up in a discussion of another of Caravaggio’s paintings.

Devotion to the Sacred Heart: A historical perspective

3 Replies

For those familiar with the question of the third/fourth secret of Fatima, it is well known that the message of Our Lady to the Fatima children explicitly included a reference to the Kings of France, who refused to consecrate France to the Sacred Heart, and warned that if the Popes followed their example, terrible wars and destruction would afflict humanity. We are only a few years away from the 100 year anniversary of the Fatima message, and those who hold, in my view correctly, that the Consecration was not in fact done, have pointed to this as a warning for what is to come. It is best then if we understand what it is Our Lady was referring to when she referenced the kings of France.

St. Margaret Mary Alacoque

This centers around the revelations of the Sacred Heart to Margaret Mary Alacoque, beginning in the 1650’s. Now, although devotion to the Sacred Heart certainly preceded St. Margaret Mary Alacoque, Our Lord used her to popularize the devotion. The means he chose to popularize it, however, were not only apostolates, and the first Fridays, but also a king.

In 1689, St. Margaret Mary went to Versailles to see King Louis XIV, who at the time was the greatest Monarch in Europe. France had never seemed more glorious, and it was at the cusp of innovating its culture, technology and industry. It had the highest population in Europe (therefore the largest armies), and was undefeated on the battlefield. It had also solidified its Catholic identity, and escaped the Gallicanist heresy (Jansenism was not to come about publicly until 1725). What St. Margaret Mary came to present to Louis XIV was simple: that he consecrate the whole nation of France to the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and build a chapel so that the Sacred Heart could be adored, and France’s glory would be magnified even more for the Catholic faith.

King Louis XIV

Many of Louis’ advisers warned, however, that if he did it and France suffered at all, it would not only be bad for him, but for religion also (note this point, it ties in with more modern events with Fatima). Moreover, Louis XIV, a well educated monarch who possessed untrammeled power, perhaps wondered why Christ would appear to this uneducated nun of low birth, rather than to him. Pius XI said the same thing when he refused to consecrate Russia to the Immaculate Heart. So, the Rois-Soleil, the Sun King, flat out refused the request from heaven. Previously the very same year, when adjusted for calendar differences, a revolution rocked England.

James II, the last Catholic Stuart to sit on the throne, had an event which usually signifies the strength of a royal house, but in this case led to its downfall. It was the birth of his son, James Francis Edward, who was then baptized Catholic. James’ position as the Catholic king of Protestant England was tenuous, but he was a good administrator and at first he was able to maintain his position. For all that, he was a poor leader and not very astute about judging the political climate. The Seclusion Crisis in the last years of the reign of his brother, Charles II, was settled by the latter’s excellent sense of the political wind. He took advantage of the increasingly radical language of the faction that wanted James secluded from the succession on account of being Catholic, and the mood of the populace which was fearful of another civil war. Putting on his royal robes, Charles declared seclusion, and whigism, to be treasonous, and most of the country supported him, being willing to accept a Catholic monarch over a new war.

King James II, the last Catholic King of England

James when on the throne was less impressive than his brother, or than his heirs might have been if they had actually ruled (namely James III and Charles III, aka Bonnie Prince Charlie). The worldly suggest this is because he wasn’t willing to compromise his religion, or because he wasn’t as duplicitous as he might be. The real reason, however, is that he wasn’t very Catholic in practice (his affairs were as famous as his brothers’) and he was a poor leader. He picked his battles very poorly, and alienated his major support base, the Tories, over issues of law, and kept a standing army. Now his brother also had a standing army, with 20,000 Scots that could be called up at any time, but this was necessary on account of the fact that the restored Stuart Monarchy needed support, coming back after a major civil war which ended in their Father’s execution (Charles I). This in itself wouldn’t have raised any more eyebrows than it did for Charles II, except that he filled command positions with Irish Catholics, and he was formally Catholic (whereas Charles II was a secret Catholic who converted on his deathbed). So the Protestants “whigged out” (pun intended), with the old propaganda of a Jesuit conspiracy to take over England and forcibly convert the country. James certainly was trying to liberate Catholicism in England, but he certainly had no program in mind to forcibly return Englishman to the faith. As poor a politician as he was, he was realistic.

Nevertheless, at the birth of his son, it was no longer a matter of biding time until James II’s daughter, Mary (a protestant and married William of Orange, the protestant champion of Holland), would reign as queen. Now the Protestants in the government and the London establishment faced the prospect of a long lived Catholic dynasty. So they decided to reach out to William of Orange, offering him the crown if he would invade England and depose James. Historians debate whether at this time William had any interest in the crown or simply wanted James to change his policy from French alliance to a Dutch alliance.

Dutch ships invade England in 1689.

Either way, Louis XIV undertook a military campaign in the Holy Roman Empire, and as a result his troops were not available to assist James against the invasion. Thus commenced the so-called “Glorious Revolution”, where the Dutch, with the assistance of several Protestants in the Navy who cleared the channel for them, invaded England, and James, rather than leading his troops, escaped.

Historically this is curious. While, on the one hand, James had good reason to fear treachery in the army (as he had seen it in the Navy), he had two things at his disposal. Irish troops who were in positions of authority, and the natural English Xenophobia and loathing for the Dutch (England had fought 3 wars with the Dutch since Cromwell’s time, and though they were seen as co-religionists, it was largely felt that the Dutch had usurped English rights in the new world and the East Indies). If James had lead his army in person, he might have won the day and kept his throne. These might have been graces flowing to him from the consecration of the Sacred Heart, but it was not done. As a side note, St. Claude de la Colombiere, St. Margaret Mary’s confessor, was a preacher in England for James II’s wife, Mary of Modena, and at one point was imprisoned for missionary activity and ministering to Catholics in the north. He was spared execution because of his position in the Duchess of York’s household, but was exiled.

William of Orange, later King William III of England

James fled England, and William, along with his wife Mary, were made joint monarchs. Now, William was related to the Stuarts, but through Charles and James II’s sister Mary, making the former a nephew of the latter. In the succession, however, he would have had to wait for James Francis Edward (an infant) and both of James daughters, Mary and Anne, to reign before he could have been considered for the succession, and that is if the former all died with no issue. Nevertheless, this is the only time England’s monarchy became elective, with parliament and the new William III and Mary II affirming that James was dead (which he wasn’t) and that he had no heirs (which he did). It was a total usurpation of common law, but it is endemic of the changes that the Glorious Revolution brought to English law. Parliament became supreme in its laws, which meant that the Constitution comprised of a series of parliamentary decisions. For instance, the right to gun ownership for Protestants, guaranteed by the Bill of Rights which was issued at William and Mary’s accession to the throne, was revoked by Parliament in 1998, because Parliament had given the right, and now it could be taken away without any reference to common law or natural law.

The Effects of this were at first a minor setback for Louis XIV. He lost a few thousand troops in Ireland at the battle of the Boyne, where James tried to raise support for himself, but all seemed well. He gave James and his family his summer palace of St. Germaine for their court in exile, and busied himself with other matters. Then came Margaret Mary Alacoque and the request to consecrate France to the Sacred Heart. As we noted, he rejected it firmly out of hand. What did he have to fear after all? The situation in England, however, soon turned into a major headache. William III, as king of England and the Staatholder of Holland, effected an alliance of England, Holland, Sweden, and the Hapsburgs against Louis XIV, in which France suffered its first major defeat. The ink was barely dry on the peace treaty, when a new war raised its head, over the Spanish Succession. Charles II, the last Hapsburg ruler of Spain, was dying with no heir, and his will, ratified by the Cortes, called for Louis XIV’s grandson, the count of Anjou, to ascend the throne of Spain, with the promise that France and Spain would not be united under one crown. The Hapsburgs would not tolerate losing the Spanish possessions from the family, and the Protestants of England and Holland would not tolerate the Bourbons jointly holding France and Spain, along with Spain’s vast new world possessions. All sides threatened war. Again the revelations of Christ to St. Margaret Mary were brought to Louis XIV, promising victory if he would consecrate France to the Sacred Heart. One can imagine that Louis XIV took this a little more seriously after the war of the first coalition, but in the end he refused to do it. Charles II of Spain died, and Louis XIV decided he was in trouble no matter which way he went, so he decided on allowing his grandson to take the Spanish throne, beginning the war of the Spanish succession. Previous to this, James II died and France, Spain and the Pope all recognized his 18 year old son, James Francis Edward, as James III of England (though living in exile at Louis XIV’s palace of Saint Germaine, where an Elderflower liquor was concocted which today we know by the same name!). This made William even angrier, and greased the wheels for a new war.

Battle of Blenheim, one of the decisive victories of the War of Spanish Succession

Mary II died tragically young in 1693, and William III died just before the war got started, but Anne, James II’s other protestant daughter and the last protestant Stuart, carried out the war with the aid of good politicians and a gifted general in the person of Lord Churchill, the Duke of Marlborough (Winston Churchill’s ancestor). In a series of astounding victories by Marlborough, the Allied coalition had smashed the French, though they suffered major setbacks in Spain. The war, however, was bloodier and more horrendous than any seen in European history to that point save the Thirty Years war, and can properly be considered a World War, being fought at sea all over the world as well as on the European continent. The war waged on for 12 years, depleting France of resources, population, money and in general devastating the country. The debts from this war were still unpaid when Louis XVI came to the throne two generations later. It was an absolute disaster, and at the end of the war, all the issues over which it was fought came to pass anyway; Philip V (Louis XIV’s grandson) was acknowledged as King of Spain, and both France and Spain promised the crowns of the two countries would not be united in one sovereign. So hundreds of thousands of lives were lost for nothing, livelihoods were destroyed and millions impoverished: for nothing! And the consecration was still not done.

Interestingly, while in England it was 1688, on the continent it was already 1689, due to the fact that England was still on the Julian Calendar. 100 years after St. Margaret Mary first brought the request from heaven to consecrate France to the Sacred Heart, the French Revolution began with the assault on the Bastille in 1789. Death, famine, poverty, war, and a revolution which effaced tradition and the faith from the country. What will October 13 2017 bring us? The signs are there to be read, and they’re not good.

Unecumenical Saints: St. Benedict of Nursia

Thoughts on the Divine Office

1 Reply

Originally published as “More thoughts on the divine office” , 18 December 2008.

Already on a few occasions I’ve written about the breviary, but I want to go in a different direction without rehashing too much of what I’ve already thought.

As I’ve written before, and as one could guess, I do not like the new Liturgy of the Hours in any way shape or form. I just fail to see it as an expression of prayer akin to what has always been adopted by the Church, east and west, from the most ancient times. It is modeled after the Quignonez breviary, which had 3 psalms for every office, and was suppressed because it made the prayer of the Church too short and placed psalms without regard for their historical replacement or the tone of the psalm with the time of day. The 1911 Catholic Encyclopedia, drawing on the consensus of liturgical judgment, said concerning Quignonez:

In the light of tradition and of liturgical principles the only possible verdict in that Quignonez’ Breviary, being constructed on a priori principles, violating most of the liturgical rules, must be condemned…. Every hour had three psalms; and in consequence of this severe regularity, there disappeared the deep and historical motive which gave to each hour its own characteristics. (source)

It wasn’t because Quignonez was evil, he was in fact a great churchman, and effected the release of Pope Clement VII from Charles V’s de facto imprisonment. Moreover, he resisted the trends of the time to restore Latin to pagan usage in order to conform with antiquity. Rather, it was condemned because he made a “Novus Ordo” of sorts with the breviary. We don’t even have a breviary quite as good as his for the Novus Ordo and on top of that it doesn’t even have all the psalms. The concept of vigils, or Matins, as it existed in the ancient breviary which made it through the middle ages, was wrecked in the Quignonez version, and likewise in the 1970 version. Three psalms scarcely carries the ancient tradition, although it should be admitted, the two readings in themselves are about the length of the readings of the 2nd and 3rd nocturnes which are divided up in the traditional schema.

The principles of the divine office, the liturgical laws and the characters of the hours were of ancient usage. When St. Benedict laid out what was to become the Monastic Breviary in his rule, he himself was drawing on ancient tradition, particularly Roman tradition (and ironically, is the only breviary today which maintains the ancient Roman Tradition.) This is one reason of course why I pray the Benedictine Breviary, the division of Psalms is roughly the same as St. Benedict laid out and as his early monks prayed. Though it has changed and suffered additions over the years, it is substantially a product of ancient tradition. Akin to praying the ancient form of Mass, there is something both humbling and inspiring about praying the same breviary as ancient and medieval monks did. Another benefit to the Benedictine Breviary is they did not modify their hymns during the reform of Urban VIII, and hence have maintained their ancient style. Moreover, it did not suffer any changes to the psalter during St. Pius X’s reforms, so many features which it drew from the Roman office, such as the Laudes psalms (148-150) are still said at the end of Lauds (from which that hour gets its name), and the use of Psalm 50 every day. The length of psalms in the Benedictine and pre-Pius X Roman Breviary are interesting. The Benedictine breviary for example begins Lauds every day with Psalm 66, and then Psalm 50 are prayed. Two psalms and the canticle differ each day, and then the Laudes Psalms are said. The only difference in the Roman breviary is Psalm 66 was not said. So the hour generally has 8 psalms, and more on Sunday (although they’re short). Vespers in the Benedictine is generally only 4 Psalms, unlike 5 in the Roman. Matins was 12 Psalms in the Roman Breviary and 12 in the Benedictine, which was then followed up by 4 scriptural canticles.

Another interesting thing is that Compline was the same every day, and the tone of those psalms was always defense in the night. The little hours in the Benedictine breviary are exactly the same Tuesday through Saturday, and after a while you start to memorize them. This allows one to better meditate on the thought of the psalms (plus, only monks are going to have the time).

The Pius X reform of the Roman Breviary starts a trend which ends up in the Novus Ordo, though St. Pius X could scarcely have imagined it. First off, while changes had been effected to the breviary throughout time, the Roman Psalter was thought to be in its integrity even older than the Canon of Mass in its current form. The idea of permanence in the liturgy was impugned, and it opened the door to further changes on the principle that Pius X had changed the breviary. However while the change in the distribution of Psalms ought to be a concern, the character of the hours largely remained the same, although now somewhat uniform. 5 Psalms for Lauds, 5 Psalms for Vespers, only 9 for Matins, while all the readings remained the same. The little hours now received psalms that were once said at Matins or at Lauds, so that they would change every day. All of these were motivated by pastoral changes. Yet these rubrics left in place a very important pastoral principle, that the priest could divide up the hour of Matins (which is very lengthy) so as to better accomplish the work of a parish priest. According to a good priest I know, one of the changes made by Bugnini when he served in the congregation of rites before Vatican II, was to eliminate this rubric and require priests to say the whole of Matins in one block and not divide it. Functionally, this meant that priests had to lock up a whole hour of prayer into the divine office. That is one thing for a monk or a country priest, but a priest in a large parish of many souls could have a problem.

This had a practical affect: to create disdain amongst the clergy for the office, which is exactly what Bugnini wanted. That is why when the Novus Ordo breviary rolled around, so many priests willingly accepted it because now: 3 psalms and 2 readings which can be anticipated the day before in the evening or said later in the day!

And if we look at the Novus Ordo breviary, the 1974 liturgy of the hours, there are some very unsavory things about it. Like the Quignonez, ever hour now has 3 psalms (except Compline which has one but inexplicably 2 psalms for Saturday and Wednesday). Moreover, one of the biggest problems with the Pius X psalter, that Psalm 50 is not said every day as is customary, is included. Unlike the Pius X psalter which required Psalm 50 during penitential periods, the Novus Ordo does not, except for Ash Wednesday, require Psalm 50 to be said on a day other than its placement, which is Friday every other week. This bothers me on a number of levels. A friend of mine who was recently ordained, in discussion on this topic, exclaimed “If you stop praying for mercy in the morning, what is going to happen in terms of pride during the day?” Like so many other things, you will stop getting it. It is the same with the Leonine prayers after Mass, or the use of additional collects praying for the Church before Bugnini suppressed them. If you stop praying for the defense of the Church, or from liberation against persecution, can you guess what is going to happen? You will stop getting defense, you cease to see even effective leadership bringing discipline from within. Ask and it shall be given, but what happens if you don’t ask?

This is the problem with many of the changes in both the breviary and the Mass.

Another problem with the Novus Ordo Liturgy of the Hours, is the new Vulgate has no decree behind it of infallibility in faith and morals. The Vulgate most recently promulgated under Pope Clement VIII on the other hand, has that guarantee both from the council of Trent and the Popes on document. John Paul II never extended such authority to the new Vulgate promulgated under his reign. Therefore if you are praying the LOH or the Pius XII psalter, your text is not even assured to be free from error in faith and morals as the traditional breviary and clementine psalter is! Imagine praying the new Vulgate for 4 weeks, shudder!

A lot of people complain about the four week psalter, but this doesn’t present a problem other than its novelty. There is nothing wrong in theory or even per se in practice with saying a four week psalter, except that the Fathers of the Church east and west when they required the faithful to attend the divine office being sung in the Churches, chose a one week psalter not a four. What is important about that is the early Bishops intended it to be done by lay people who had to work as well as pray, and they chose to accomplish the psalms in one week. The reason for this was so the faithful would be familiar with the Psalms and incorporate their prayers into their day. What better prayers are there than those which are scriptural and inspired by the Holy Ghost? It is for this reason the Traditional Mass incorporates so many of the psalms into the Holy Mass, many more than in the Novus Ordo.

The worst element about the Novus Ordo breviary, is the bidding prayers contained at Lauds and Vespers. I’m generally of the opinion that they are worse in Latin than they are in English, because ICEL polishes some of them up. There you have lame, dated, social justice petitions included in a banal manner in the Church’s official prayerbook. Contrast that with the breviary petitions formerly said on certain days at Lauds and Vespers (not every day), with prayers for the Pope, prayers for the Church, prayers for conversions, for defense from unjust persecution, etc. A holy priest I know looked at that in Seminary and questioned his vocation, because in his words “I could not say that nonsense every day of my life, whereas when I looked at the Traditional Breviary, I knew I could do that.”

Thus, even with the problems of the Pius X reform, I would still see that breviary accepted rather than the 1970 Liturgy of the Hours, which is just a mess of liturgical experimentation (replete with “original texts” in various languages not included in the editio typica). The solution in my view, is to permit a certain amount of freedom in which edition of the breviary that priests pray. In other words, allow them to go back to earlier forms of the Roman breviary, or to the monastic breviaries of different orders. Ideally of course, one would want the Bishop to regulate it according to the breviary which he prays, but the result of that is “well, pray the LOH that I pray.” If he does that is. I was invited once to a vocations get together at a chancery, and the Bishop’s breviary was at a table in a hallway. What sparked my curiosity was the fact that it was the wrong color for the season (as the LOH is multi-colored). I moved it, and a sharp outline of dust surrounded it. Told me everything I needed to know!