Ambrose was aware of the “enchanting” power that his hymns seemed to have over many of his contemporaries, most famously, Augustine, whom they moved to tears (see Confessions 9.6, 9.12). The bishop of Milan tried to account for his hymnological success thus: “They also claim that the people are beguiled [deceptum] by the chants [carminibus] of my hymns. I do not deny this. A great incantation [carmen] is the one than which no other is more powerful” (46). What could give his hymns any greater power, he goes on to ask, than “the confession of the Trinity, which is daily celebrated in the voice of all the people?”
Dunkle takes Ambrose's explanation seriously, drawing the reader's attention to the confessional dimensions of the hymns, pointing out their “broad, implicit endorsement of the Nicene faith” (48) and situating them in the context of Ambrose's own catechetical and mystagogical writings. Even though the Council of Nicaea took place before the bishop of Milan was born, the issues raised were by no means settled then and there. The Gothic tribes to the north of Milan were Arian. Some of the most powerful rulers who followed Constantine were Arian or semi-Arian. What might seem to us fairly theoretical issues had very real ramifications for the members of Ambrose's congregation. As they sang their bishop's hymns, Dunkle argues, they perceived “through pro-Nicene lenses not only nature and Scripture but also their very communal identity” (144).
But surely it could not have been their confessional character alone that ensured that these hymns would be so popular and long-lived. After all, Augustine composed a Psalmus against the Donatists which is a marvel of doctrinal clarity and confessional certitude, but it is a ponderous production that is hard to imagine anyone actually singing; certainly it did not have nearly the success that Ambrose's hymns enjoyed. Part of the answer to the question of the enduring appeal of Ambrose's hymns is provided in Dunkle's close readings of the hymns themselves. (These alone are worth the price of the book.) Chapter 3 is dedicated to “Hymns of the Hours”: Aeterne rerum conditor, Splendor paternae gloriae, Iam surgit hora tertia, and Deus creator omnium. Chapter 4 considers hymns associated with the liturgical year: Intende, qui regis Israel (Christmas), Illuminans altissimus (Epiphany), and Hic est dies verus Dei (Easter). Chapter 5 examines the hymns composed for annual festivals for saints and martyrs (Agnes beatae virginis, and so on).
Refreshingly enough, Dunkle spends relatively little time on the vexed question of authenticity that has preoccupied so many previous scholars of the hymns. Instead, he concentrates on the broader question of how exactly Ambrose achieved the kinds of rhetorical effects that could so deeply move one who sang or listened to his hymns. Especially convincing are Dunkle's considerations of Ambrose's use of specific techniques, such as “indexicals,” words often used in sermons and hymns to “point to a particular spatial or temporal referent that depends on the context of the utterance” (7), as well as other rhetorical devices, such as repetition, commonly used by poets and orators. As with other apparently “simple” literary compositions, the complexity and sophistication of Ambrose's artistry in these hymns should not be underestimated. Ars est celare artem: The greatest art of all is to be able to conceal art. Ambrose does this as well as any literary artist ever has.
The last two chapters take up the issue of Ambrosian reception in general and the influence of the hymns on Sedulius's A solis ortus cardine (also written in iambic quatrains) and Prudentius's Cathemerinon and Peristephanon in particular. Both of these subjects deserve greater attention than could be given them here, but even this brief treatment helps to illustrate a larger point: The hymns of Ambrose represent a literary achievement that was not limited to a specific time and place. Some of his hymns became ecclesiastical “classics” that have continued to be sung throughout the centuries. Martin Luther's German rendition of Ambrose's Christmas hymn, Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, for instance, was set to memorable music by Johann Sebastian Bach and countless other German composers, and it is still sung in Lutheran churches to this day.
This is a revision of a doctoral thesis (Notre Dame, 2015), but it reads well and avoids the tentativeness and jargon sometimes associated with dissertations. The editing is carefully done, with the exception of the texts of the hymns and the translations in a concluding appendix (221–231). Here, strangely enough, there are a number of lapses. The subjunctive mood of verbs is sometimes ignored (see, for example, Amore Christi nobilis, 22 and 24; Hic est dies verus Dei, 25–28, 30, and 32; and Splendor paternae gloriae, 30), while the indicative verb procedit in Intende, qui regis Israel, 17, is translated as though it were subjunctive. There are also a few unfortunate typos in this section: martyre in Apostolorum supparem, 13, has morphed into the meaningless rnartyre, and the closing quotation mark in the Latin text of the last stanza of the hymn is misplaced. “Befitted” (not “befit”) must surely be the past tense of “befit” (Victor Nabor Felix pii, 20). But these are minor quibbles. Anyone who is still enchanted by Ambrose's remarkable hymns and wants to understand them more fully will certainly want to have this insightful guide in his or her library.
