Music in The Medieval World - Albert Seay

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(differentia) is specified by the music over the vowels EUOUAE, from “secuiorum. Amen,”
the closing words of the “Gloria Patri.”
The other chants of the iiturgy, those which can be considered as composed, generaily
derive their nature from the importance of the particular liturgical act that they accompany,
the nature of the service, the importance of the particular feast, and the character of the text.
Chants accompanying certain parts of the Mass, such as Communion, cannot be too long,
for the celebrant cannot be kept waiting until the music is finished. Chants for the Hours
will tend to be Iess elaborate than those for the Mass of the sarne day; those for the Lesser
Hours will normally be simpler than those for the Greater. The celebration of a major feast,
such as Christmas, will usually con tain chants of greater complexity and length than those
for a saint. Finaily, differences will be made in the setting of lengthy texts, such as the
Credo, and shorter ones, such as the Kyrie; too elaborate music for a long text will take too
much time. The composer could not work without consideration of the balance of ali these
elernents.
As an instance of the beauty found in the realization of even the simplest of demands and as
evidence of the composer’s ability to achieve an artistic result within functional necessity,
let us examine the Antiphon, “Scitote” (“Know thou”), from Terce for the Feast of the Holy
Name of Jesus:
This antiphon is evidently in Mode III, for its opening phrase, the material to the asterisk,
reproduces the opening of the Psalrn Tone in that mode; this much is normaily all of the
antiphon sung at the beginning. Here, the direct imitation of what is to follow in the
intonation makes the transition smooth, for the rise to the reciting tone sets what is to
foilo’w. Within the complete antiphon as per formed at the dose, there is the obvious intent
of securing a graceful descent from this tenor to the final. There is a steady fali in the sec
ond part, culminating in the repetitions of the opening g at “Deus,” a haif cadence so to
speak; after, there is a short rise, with steady descent to the closing e. Of great effect is the
emphasis in the first part on syliabic treatment, with the use of a two-note figure on “est”
to stress the resting point; the conclusive nature of the iatter part is assisted by the insertion
of severa! of these two-note units at the be— ginning of the section, with another just
before the fina! heiping to estabiish a sense of comp!eteness. The effort to make the
antiphon a signiflcant introduction and satisfying dose to the psa!m recitation is evident
throughout.
As indicative of the distinctions made on the basis of function, comparison between two
settings of the sarne text is revealing. A particuiariy good exampie is the pair of chants,
“Exiit sermo” (“The message has been deiivered”), the first the Respond of the Gradual, the
second the opening of the Communion for St. John (December
27):
In view of the function of the Gradual as the singing of a psalm, with no other simu!taneous
act, the composer felt himself compara_ tively free. As a resu!t, the chant is highiy me!
ismatic, with many notes to some syilables, and with evident effort to bui!d a melody that
wi!! reflect the a!most pure!y musical status of the Gradual. The Communion, on the otlier
hand, accompanying a task of the cele brant, is by necessity of more restricted character,
with a minimum of melismata and an almost purely syllabic treatment. In both chants
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we find a une that rises to a peak at about the middie, but the dura tion of rise to and fali
from this climax is conditioned by liturgical circumstances, not by the wishes of the
composer. Comparison of the two settings of “non moritur” points up the divergent
demands, for, in the Gradual, this lengthy closing is governed by the evident desire of the
composer to emphasize the meaning, “he will not die,” by giv ing it added musical
importance. In the Communion, the need to coordinate the chant with the actions of the
celebrant leads to a condensation that, while effective, is of lesser musical interest.
Of ali the chants, the Alleluia is that rnost apt for the fuilest musical expression. To
medieval writers, it was an overpowering ex pression of the ecstasy of the spirit, a joy that
couid not be restricted to words; it thus occupied a peculiar place in the liturgy, for it car
ried implications of catharsis, a cleansing of the sou!. This catharsis was not the result of
the text but was derived from the music and its effects. Although a psalm verse is included,
it too refiects the sarne approach, often repeating melodic fragments already heard in the
Alleluia proper. As an exampie, we give the Al!eiuia “Vere tu es Rex” (“Indeed, Thou art
the King”), for the Feast of the Holy
Family:
PLAINCHANT 39
In performance, the opening to the asterisk is sung by a soloist, this then being repeated by
the choir and continued to the verse; the latter part, from the asterisk on, is cafled the
jubilus, and was to be of importance in the development of the type of chant called the se
quence, as we shall see. The verse is then sung by the soloist to the asterisk, where the choir
enters and completes it. There is then a return to the opening Alleluia, again soloistic, with
the choir reënter ing at the jubilus; the choir does not repeat the opening Alleluia.
The Alleluia here is divided into three phrases, each ending on the final (Mode VIII), but
each time more extended in length and in range, expanding almost like an opening fiower.
The first phrase is a preparation, firmly setting the modality, with the second and third
exploring the melodic possibilities. A major organizing factor is the use of a falling three-
note figure that serves almost as a generator of melodic movement. The verse, in two broad
sections, is closely re lated to the Alleluia, repeating the opening and closing phrases,
marked a and b in the example. The intermediate section of the verse, the new material,
similar!y works with the failing three-note
j motive, giving a total unification to the chant that is both subtle and
4 effective. Just as the second phrase of the Alleluia made its dose
1_ inevitable, 50 does the new material of the verse make the repeated music of the Alleluia
satisfying. Musical form and content arç here in complete balance.
The artistry of the musicians of the early church rests on their solutions to the problem of
balance between the claims of music and
4 liturgy. Their ability to understand the demands of the function in which music played
such a large part and to produce music that achieved its goal without sacrifice of musical
value gave the W’ a
secure f’oundation on which to base more elaborate musical struc tures. By their very
success in merging liturgical function and mu sical accompaniment, we cannot think of the
one without the other. Here the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.
4
Notation
In the earlier days of the Church there was little need to worry about the problems of
notation, for neither the complexity of the service nor its music was so great as to require
that the various meio dies or formulae be preserved in written form; comparatively few in
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number, they could be easily passed on through an oral tradition. With the Church’s
emergence and the rapid development of a highly organized liturgy, the problem grew more
and more pressing, par ticularly when combined with the Roman rite’s zeal to impress its
!
‘ocedures on all parts of the West. In taking chants from one area to other, some form of
written notation became an absolute necessity. lthough primary sources are lacking, it
seems that the sixth century w the flrst attempts to add some kinds of symbols to liturgical
xts, indicating in a general way the course of the accompanying hant.
Many experiments took place in the ensuing three centurks, anging from the use of specific
letters or letter-iike symbols for
h note to the use of accent—signs taken over from those used in he teaching of oratory.
There were, however, serious disadvantages ri nearly ali these systems, either because of an
inabiity to know Jxactly the intervals specified or because of basic confiicts with the
haracter of the chant; if one thinks of the essential nature of chant ..s melismatic, with
groupings of notes more important than mdi vidual ones, it is obvious that a letter notation
concentrating on :Separate tones would be more of a hindrance than a help.
The final solution, one achieved in its broad outlines by the ninth century and universally
adopted in the centuries that followed, is
- based on the use of two iines as reference points, the first, originally in red, to show the
piace off, the second, in yellow or green, to mdi te c’. The addition of other iines between
and above or beiow, with he introduction of a clef, lcd directly to our modern system; chant
notation, however, because of the restricted range of its melodies, has never used more than
four lines in its staif. While many older sources attribute the development of this to Guido
of Arezzo, more modern research has shown that bis role was more that of a codifier and
improver of a system aiready in a high stage of development. We give here a short excerpt
in neumatic notation, with transcription into modern form, to iliustrate the method:
!
In the example, the symbois at a and b are clef signs, the first indicating c’, the second f. At
c and d we have çxamples of group ings, in which one figure stands for two or more notes.
In reading obliques, one takes the first note from the point of its beginning, the
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second from its end. In cases such as at d, the bottom note is always read first. Comparison
of the original and the transcription will make the principies clear.
The reader wili have noted that nothing has been said about rhythm, for ali our examples
have implied that the notes are of equal value. In this lies one of the thorniest problems of
plainchant, since we do not at pr know specifically whether or not early chant had rhythmic
variations and, if so, what kind. There is evidence that rhythmic distinctions may have been
made in early chant books, but most of our sources come from after the ninth century, a
period when these distinctions had begun to disappear from notated chants. The principal
school of thought today, one accepted as standard by the Church, is that of scholars at the
Benedictine abbey of Solesmes, where the notes are of equal time value but with groups of
two and three taken as units of pulse. Historically, the Solesmes’ procedure cannot be
justified but it does iead to musically valid results. Other scholars have put forth schemes in
which the notes are of varying length, but here again many of their results are open to
debate. The problem is, at present, incapable of final solution, for there are too many
unanswered contradictions in the sources.
Non-Romctn rites
We have noted earlier that the early liturgical situation in the West was one of great
diversity and that only after many centuries was the Roman rite universal. The three major
areas of divergence from Roman procedures were in Spain, France, and Northern Italy. In
each of these, particular procedures and chants developed that were indicative of local
attitudes and influences. The earliest of these to disappear was the Gallican rite, that of
France, primarily through the efforts of Pepin and Charlemagne; nevertheless, certain
elements of Gailican chant, such as the “Improperia” for Good Friday, were taken over by
the Roman liturgy. Today, ali trace of the Gailican original chants is gone, for we have no
sources from that time.
The Mozarabic rite, that of Spain, generaily disappeared around the eleventh century,
although by special permission it is in use to day in certain churches of Toledo. The music
is, however, not a true
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refiection of the original, for, although many of the older sources have been preserved, their
notation cannot be read accurately today.
Around Milan, the Ambrosian rite has long fiourished and is still in use. In general, its
music is of more elaborate character than its Roman counterpart. It once was thought that
Ambrosian chant represents an earlier stage in the history of chant, before the revisions of
Popes Leo the Great and Gregory the Great; modern research in dicates that the opposite is
probably more true. Efforts to suppress this rite were never successful, perhaps through the
importance of St. Ambrose (333-397) and his position as the legendary founder of the
liturgical format.
Other minor variants have existed, most of them of purely local importance and without
great influence. Of these, the most interest ing is the Sarum rite, stemming from Salisbury
in England and in use throughout Britain by the fifteenth century. Its particular musical
importance rests on its use of certain chants later employed by Con tinental composers, as
in the “Caput” masses of Dufay, Okeghem, and Obrecht, plus its iiturgy for the Requiem,
one followed by most Northern composers of polyphonic settings until the Council of
Trent.
Bibliography
In addition to certain sources already named at the end of Chapter 1, there are the many
chant books published by Desclée & Co., Tournai, the authorized editors of the revisions
made by the Benedictines of Solesmes; these include the Liber Usualis (1934), the
Grciduale Romanum (1938), and the Antiphonale Rornanum (1924). Of special importance
are the “Rules for Interpretation” given in the LU, pp. xvii-xxix, where the fundamentals of
the Solesmes’ performance system are exposed. For stud les of Gregorian chant, the many
works of Peter Wagner are outstanding, as are the commentaries added to the various
volumes of the series of facsimiles edited by the monks of Solesmes, the Paléographie
musicale (1889- ). Apel’s Gregorian Chant has already been mentioned; his “The Central
Problem of Gregorian Chant” in the Journal of the Ameri can Musicological Society, JX
(1956), must not be overlooked.
For the history of plainchant notadori, Carl Parrish’s The Notation of Medieval Music (New
York: Norton, 1957) is useful; the most exten sive study is that of Dom Gregori Sunyol,
Introducció a la Paleo grafia Musical Gregoriana (Montserrat: Abadia de Montserrat, 1925).
Higini
4
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Anglés is also an important authority for this subject as well as for the history of non-
Roman rites; his two articles in the New Oxford History of Music, II, should be consulted.
An Antiphonale Missarum juxta Ritum Sanctae Ecclesiae Mediolanen sis (Ambrosian rite)
is published by Desclée (1935). For the Sarum rite, W. H. Frere is the major authority; bis
various works, including fac similes of both a Graduale (1894) and an Antiphonale
(1901-1925), are essential.
3
Accretions
to the Liturgy
1 n examining the liturgical make-up of the Mass and the Hours, one’s flrst impression (a
correct one) is that both areas have drawn primarily on Biblical sources for their texts. The
emphasis on psalm singing, the intonation of lessons from both the Old and New Testa
ments, the stress on the Bible as a source for most of the material used within these services
is clear. Those portions not Biblical in origin— the Ordinary of the Mass, for example—
were not originally of the same importance or interest; we have already noted the subsidiary
place of the Credo, which was not obligatory in the Roman rite until nfter the twelfth
century.
This strong reliance on the Bible was not unconscious, for the
45
46 ACCRETIONS TO THE LITURGY
Church early realized the necessity to discourage a subjectiveness in herent in the
introduction of non-Biblical material. Although texts not drawing on the Bible were used in
the earliest days of Christian ity, mostly in the Eucharist, the growing Church rapidly
suppressed them, acknowledging them as sources of possible deviation and heresy. The
more solid the organization of the Church became. the greater was the official opposition to
the introduction of non-Biblical writings.
Under pressure, such opposition could not and did not stand. For various reasons, to be
explored in this chapter, non-Biblical ac cretions were slowly added to the basic liturgy,
accretions more or less rapidly accepted and even at times encouraged by the Church. As a
new outlet for the talents of poets and musicians, their vogue was great in the Middle Ages,
so great that by the sixteenth century the Council of Trent felt that the essential focus of the
liturgy had been obscured; many of the elaborations had to be trimrned away if the meaning
of the services was to remam clear. During medieval times, however, these additions—the
hymn, the trope and sequence, the liturgical drama, the conductus—attracted the attention
of gifted men of poetry and music, for it was in them that these men could find a freedom
of expression not always possible within the func tional limitations of that which had
already been established.
The hymn
Of all the various liturgical accretions, the hymn is the oldest, for, as we have pointed out, it
was part of the original Eucharist, non-Biblical in background, and partook of that sarne
ecstatic emo tion that was the source of the Aileluia. Because of its subjectiveness and
individuaiism, it easily led into heresy, encouraging divisions and sectarianism, as can be
seen particularly in the hymns written by the Eastern Gnostics, with Bardaisan (second
century) as the leading spirit of the movement. These hymns, texts using popular melodies
and folk-tunes, were designed to teach religious doctrine and were polemic in nature. As a
weapon against established dogma, their in fluence was great, calling for immediate
reaction by the orthodox, one which grew rapidly after the third century.
With St. Ephraem (d. 379), the Church found its first great
ACCRETIONS TO THE LITURGY 47
hymn writer. Like Bardaisan, St. Ephraem wrote in Syriac and, again like Bardaisan, used
the hymn as a means of advancing certain view points, but in support of the Church and not
in opposition. Ephraem’s major work is the Madhrasa, made up of poems against heretics,
Bardaisan, and the Arians; songs of non-polemic nature on Christian moralities; and hymns
of some liturgic connection. Many of these were incorporated into the monastic services
that later grew into the Hours, thus deflning a certain position for these compositions. As
before, Ephraem relied for his music on popular melodies, insuring that the message of bis
texts would more easily be absorbed by the Singer.
Seeing the dangers in the spread of heresy through these easily sung and easily remembered
compositions, the Western Church did its best to bar hymns from its rites; the Council of
Laodicea, for ex ample, around 361 banned them completely. However, such efforts were
of little effect, for the popular character of the melodies to whjch hereticai texts had been
set and the insidious nature of the heresies themselves couid not be fought by ignoring
them.
The realization that the Latin hymn could defend orthodoxy in the sarne way as its Syriac
counterpart was made first by St. Hilary of Poitiers (310?-366), who spent some time in
exile in Syria and who may possibiy have had personal contact with Ephraem. On his ‘-‘ to
Gaul, he introduced the hymn there as a polemic weapon, ighting the Arianism then strong
in Aries; none of his works achieved
popuiarity, perhaps because of Hilary’s failure to touch the masses.
The true father of the Cathoiic hymn is St. Ambrose (340?-397), for it is lis work that
established the model for future generations. Like Hilary, Ambrose’s major goa! was the
combating of heresy. His rnccess was complete; sung congregationaily, his hymns
immediateiy became popular and soon were absorbed into the liturgy, not only bat of
Milan, Ambrose’s bishopric, but aiso that of other areas. hymns now are believed to be bis,
but oniy four, named by
Augustmne, can be so definitely ascribed. Whether Ambrose aiso iposed the music is not
known; it is possible that, iike his prede essors, he wrote bis poems for already existing
popular melodies.
An outstanding feature of the Ambrosian hymn is its emphasis n rhythm, indicating the
shift from the oider quantities of classic
to the quaiitative stress patterns of medieval Latin. The new
48 ACCRETIONS TO THE UTLJRGY
ACCRETIONS TO THE LITURGY 49
poetry, a truly Christian poetry in both subject matter and tech fique, is rhythmic and
eventually, in the hands of later artists, re ceived rimes at the ends of lines. Divided into
eight strophes, each strophe like two long lines of iambic feet, there is at the end of every
two strophes a pause in textual sense, strongly suggesting antiphonal performance by the
two halves of the congregation.
These elernents then are basic to the hymn: 1) written to be a musical weapon against
heresy, 2) popular in both words and music, 3) rnusically simple, with a strophic technique,
that is, each strophe sung to the sarne music, 4) congregational performance as a primary
goal. To show these factors, we give the words and music of the first strophe of the
Ambrosian hymn, “Aeterne rerum Conditor” (“Eter nal Founder of all things”), one of
those named by Augustine as definitely by Ambrose; the melody is written in triple rhythrn,
in accord with the qualitative nature of the poetry and specifications presented by
Augustine in bis De Musica (386-388):
!
In general, to the eighth century, the Ambrosian hymn was the model. During this period,
the steady absorption of the hyrnn into the Hours was constant, except in Rorne, where
there was resistance until the ninth century. In areas where certain poets were influential,
such as France, or where the ecclesiastic character of the writer gave sanction, as in
Northern Italy with Ambrose, the liturgical adoption of the hymn was rapid. Perhaps the
most interesting feature of this change in position of the hymn is the change seen in the
music, which now began to take on the musical characteristics of normal piam chant;
thereby it lost most of its rhythmic correspondence of words
and music, for the new melodies to which hymn texts were set re stylistically. closer to the
highly rnelismatic chants of the aiready established service. They no longer have the clear
rhythms of the past, and, without prior knowledge, it is difficult to identify a hymn melody
as such. This may well be due to the rnonastic movernent and its desire to make the Hours
more solemn by the addition of hymns, something requiring a higher degree of musical
sophistication than the original folklike melodies; this goal is particularly evident with the
Irish Benedictines.
The hymn remained a constant source of inspiration throughout the Middle Ages. With the
expansion of the choir school in France under Charlemagne, the new centers, such as at
Paris, Tours, Dijon, Fleury, Chartres and Auxerre, not only assisted in the unification of the
area under the Roman rite, but also provided the atmosphere for the continued creation of
the hymn. Their work made of the hyrnn not only a way of fulfilling a now obvious
liturgical function, but also gave it the status of a recognized art form, of interest to future
generations.
The sequence and trope
Just as the hymn acted as a creative outlet within the Hours, so the sequence and trope acted
within the Mass. Although the total number of sequences now found in the liturgy has
failen to five and the trope has completely vanished, both were very irnportant forms in
medieval times, losing their preëminent position as musical cate gories only with the rise of
polyphony as an area of greater interest.
The background of the sequence is hidden in obscurity, although it now is evident that the
original inspiration is of Byzantine prove_ nance. In the East, it had long been the habit to
adapt new texts to previously existing melodies, much as the earlier Syriac had used
popular songs for their new texts. With the presence of many Greeks in France during the
ninth century, it is probable that knowledge of this custom became expanded in that part of
the West. Regardless of exactly how and when the idea was transmitted, it is certain that
shortly after 862 a monk from Jumiéges in Normandy appeared at the monastery of St. Gall
in Switzerland, driven there at a time of troubies in bis homeland.
50 ACCRETIONS TO T LITURGY
Among the baggage of this monk was a smail volume of chants in which additional texts
had been fitted to the long melismata that make up the jzibilus of the Alleluia, the
melismata on the final -ia, which were then longer than those now found in today’s chant
books. One of the St. Gail monks, Notker (840?-912), recognized that this technique might
well serve to aid the singer in remem- bering the involved jubilus melodies, for there would
be the assist ance of a verbal une. With the advice and encouragement of his teacher, Iso,
Notker attempted to provide what he considered more suitabie texts, working from the
principie that the original melismata should be broken down into individual notes and each
note thus de rived provided with a syllable.
From this story, reiated by Notker in the preface to bis Liber Hymnorum, it is evident that
the procedure of adding words to an already existing melody was not a new one and that
the original ex ploration of its possibilities was prirnarily due to French experiment ers. The
earlier French sequences differed in some respects from those developed at St. Gail, mainly
in that the beginning of the se quence came on the jubilus; it was this melismata that
provided ali the music. At St. Gail, it became the dustom for the first strophes to use the
melody of the AlieIuia proper, substituting the new text for the old. Further, the French
examples are norrnally prose-like, with out poetic rhythm, and show their relationship to
the Alleluia by the frequent ending of lines in -a, like the final syliable of Alieluia. The St.
Gail writers, on the other hand, wrote poetry of rhythmic char acter and neglected this
emphasis on a final -a, suggesting a more artistic approach. It may well be that these
changes indicate the rea son for Notker’s dissatisfaction for the examples from Jumiéges
that he had seen; they were not sufficiently artistic.
The original sequence, as we have seen, was closely tied to the melismatic jubilus and was
originally a poetic creation, not a musical one. In form, it consisted of isoiated strophes at
the beginning and end, with pairs of strophes in betweç giving the structure known as the
double dursus: X - A A - B B - C C . . . Y. The melodies for the opening and closing isolated
strophes, as well as for each inner pair, were different; the number of syllables from one
pair of strophes to the next was not constant, giving great irregularity to the indi vidual une
lengths.
In view of its inherent artistic possibilities, the sequence did not
ACCRETiONS TO THE LITURGY 5
long remam attached to the Alleluia melodies, although it did retain its liturgical position at
that point in the service. Melodies now began to be fre composed, with no relation to the
jubilus, although re taining the syllabic character and musical form of the original. By the
late tenth century, the musical reliance on the Alleluia had been completely broken, as
witness the Easter sequence, “Victimae paschali laudes” (“Praises to the Paschal victim”),
of WTipo of Burgundy (d. 1050); the present-day version (LU, 780) has siightly obscured
the form by omission of the original sixth strophe.
One further development, due to a French love for symmetry and balance, may be noted,
the gradual elimination of differences in length of strophes. The great figure in this change
is Adam of St. Victor (d. 1192), a member of that Augustinian monastery founded by
William of Champeux (1070-1121), the teacher of Abelard. With Adam, ali strophes have
the sarne regularity and formal balance, thus eliminating the external signs of the double
cursus. Now, only refer ence to the music can make clear the difference between the hymn
and the sequence, for the poetry is superficially the same; the hymn, however, is strophic in
its music, while the sequence retains its melodic couplet idea, with new musical material
for each pair of verses.
At the peak of its popularity, the sequence became an almost universally adopted part of the
Mass, even appearing in those seasons where, because of its joyful character, the Alleluia
was substituted by the Tract. Large coilections of sequences were put together in special
volumes, laid out like the Graduale. Sequences thus became organized much like the Proper
of the Mass, with specific ones for specific days. Just as in the history of the Proper, there
was a definite effort on the part of successive generations to flul out the church calendar, to
differentiate between various feasts by the intricacy of the appropriate sequenc
idtoaccentuate the minor dI in ritual between one church and another. Inevitably, this led to
an in dividualism, a subjectiveness, that later caused the Council of Trent to remove all but
four from the liturgy: “Victimae paschali laudes,” “Veni sancte spiritus,” “Lauda Sion,” and
‘ irae”; a fifth, the “Stabat Mater” of Jacopone da Todi (d. 1304), was reintroduced in the
eighteenth century.
The trope, like the sequence, began as the addition of words to a preëxisting melody, in this
case, other parts of the Mass such as the
()
o
--4
52 ACCRETIONS TO THE LITURGY
Introit, Kyrie, Gloria, Gradual, etc. It too seems to have much the sarne origins as the
sequence, similarly with its first real exploitation at St. Gail through Tuotilo, a friend and
contemporary of Notker. Broadly speaking, two types were developed, the one using the
original melody and providing a new text or texts for that melody, the other taking the
standard chant and its accompanying text, break ing it into sections and then interposing
new bits of melody and text in the spaces made available.
In essence, the technique of troping, the idea of addition to an already existing foundation,
is common to both sequence and trope, butthere is one major difference, that the trope is
bound in meaning to the text to which it is added, while the sequence has no such dose
connection. The use of the trope as explanation was carried quite far; we have twelfth-
century examples of certain Episties where there is an alternation of the original material in
Latin with its text in French transiation, for the benefit of the less learned.
By the thirteenth century, the vogue of the trope was nearly t an end. AlI of them were
removed by the Council of Trent, although modern chantbooks do mark certain Kyries with
the opening of the trope that was once used with them; for example, the Kyrie of Mass IV
is named “Cunctipotens Genitor Deus” (“God, the All-Powerful Creator”).
Within the trope one finds the typically medieval procedure of glossing. The gloss, an
explanation or exegesis, is the use of a basic authority, on which a new structure is built by
the addition of com mentary. In many cases, the original text is written with large spaces
between the lines; between these lines, the commentator inserts bis explanations and
definitions of the original text, seeking to clarify every possible meaning and implication.
The old serves as the in spiration for the new, acting as a source of authority to which the
new makes constant reference. The trope is the musical equivalent of the gloss of literature
and logic.
The liturgical drama
Among the works attributed to Tuotilo is “Hodie cantandus” (“Today we must sing”), a
trope-like introduction to the Introit for Christmas. This composition began with one choir
singing, “Today
U
ACCRETJONS TO THE LTTURGY 53
we must sing of the Child,” followed by the second choir asking, “W is this Child? Teil us. .
. .“ To this, the flrst choir replied, “He is that Child . . . whom the prophet has foretold,”
with the Introit immediately foliowing the last phrase. In this simple forrn of chorai
dialogue we find the beginnings of the liturgical drama. As before, there is within this gerrn
the medieval desire to explain and amplify, for, as St. Ethelwold says in bis Regularis
Concordia, writ ten between 965-975, this enlargement of the service is “. . . to for tify tbe
faith of the ignorant multitude and novices . .
Beginning as a musical dialogue, tbe range of the drama soon broadened to include action
and scenic representation, although the essential character of the question and answer
formula was not dis carded. In the “Quem quaeritis” for Easter, these elements were
combined into a complete play. On Good Friday, the Cross, wrapped in veils, was deposited
on an altar representing the Sepulchre. Before Matins on Easter Day, sacristans removed
the Cross, leaving only the veils; during Matins, one monk carrying a palm branch took bis
place in the Sepulchre. After the third Responsory, three other monks ap proached the
Sepulcbre, carrying boxes of incense; on being asked by the monk there, “Whom do you
seek?” they replied, “Jesus of Nazareth.” The flrst monk then stated, “He is not here; He
has arisen,” to which the three responded by turning to the choir with the words, “Alleluia,
the Lord is arisen.” To the phrase, “Come and see the place. . . ,“ tbe three inspected the
Sepulchre, leaving their incense boxes and showing the veils to the choir. After the singing
of “The Lord is arisen from tbe Sepulchre,” the “Te Deum” was begun, with ringing of ali
the church belis.
Although the above description is taken from the Regularis Concordia, it represents what
was happening ali over Europe, for the custom of introducing drama within the liturgy,
particularly at Çhristmas and Easter, took rapid root. The original sbort versions were
rapidly expanded, with additional scenes and dialogue to heighten interest and make the
message more vivid. At Easter, for example, the extensions might include the preparation of
the three Marys for their visit to the tomb, the purchase of incense or the visit of Simon and
Peter; the resources of the church involved would determine the degree of complexity and
splendor.
With the expansion of the drama camè a similar enlargement of possible subject matter,
although there was not the universality of
Ii
1
54 ACCRETIONS TO TRE LITURGY
the schemes for the Nativity and Easter. These new subjects, gen eraily found from the
eleventh century on, include episodes from the lives of saints, such as St. Nicholas, and
passages from both Old and New Testaments, such as the “Play of Daniel,” “The
Conversion of St. Paul,” “The Raising of Lazarus,” and “The Last Judgment.” The popular
character of the liturgical drama is suggested by the use of the vernacular in certain ones,
such as in the “Piay of the Wise and Foolish Virgins,” from Limoges in the mid-twelfth
century; the text is part Latin and part the dialect of Limousin. Finaily, there is a “Play of
St. Agnes” from the fourteenth century, written in Proven çal; strictly speaking, this does
not fali within the category of litur gical drama, for it is a play with incidental music based
upon popular melodies or variations on the hymn, “Veni Creator” (“Come, O Creator”).
In the sources, the music for the various liturgical dramas is written as plainchant, but it is
not impossible that improvised coun terpoint was added at climactic points; such a
procedure would have been in keeping with the grandiose presentations that are suggested.
It is aiso probable that instruments of various kinds played a strong role in these
performances, to judge from various descriptions that have come down to us. The music
itself is generaily syllabic, with short melismata often coming near the end of the phrase. To
a cer tain extent, there is a correspondence in style between the melodies of the liturgical
drama and those of the hymn of the sarne time. While the poetry used is normally
metrically organized, the accom panying chant often ignores this rhythm, for melismata
frequently show little effort to make a correspondence. Evidently these melodies
were performed in the manner of plainchant; as an example we give
the opening of the “Quem quaeritis” as it appears in Padua, Bib.
Capit., C 56, of the fourteenth century:
Certain other melodies suggest a more popular character, using a

syliabic setting that strongly implies rhythmic performance. In these,
there are few melismata and the general appearance is that of the
—j
o
ACCRETIONS TO THE LITURGy 55
li Ambrosian hymn, although the iambus has been replaced by the trochee. These songs
were probably performed metrically in triple
I4 rhythm. In the “Play of Daniel,” from twelfth-century Beauvais, [ there is something of
an effort to distinguish between soloist music,
this to be performed like plainchant, and material for the choir, this
rhythmically organized and of less melismatic character.
The popularity of liturgical dramas in the Middle Ages was great, but little artistic
development is to be found after the four teenth century, although they continued to be
performed into the
4 sixteenth century. With the transfer of dramatic composition to the secular world,
dependence on music as an integral factor virtually
disappeared; what little music was used in dramas came to be secular in origin and was
more in the nature of interpolated songs rather
- i than part of a musically conceived whole. One may suggest that the f difference between
the liturgical drama of the high Middle Ages and 4 its secular derivatives was something
like that between opera at the
- ‘Metropolitan Opera House and the Broadway musical comedy.
Theconcjuctus
A final liturgical accretion, brought about by functjonal needs, was the conductus, its name
implying music to accompany a proces
sion; the term seems to have been first used in the “Play of Daniel,” j where it was applied
to the pieces sung at entries. In addition, the
term was applied to the music introducing the closing “Benedicamus Domino” of Vespers
and Lauds. The place of conductus in the Church can be compared with that of the trope; as
the trope was an elaboration of a particular chant, the conductus was an elaboration of a
liturgical act, a heightening made by music.
Like the hymn, the strophes of conductus were uniform, but
here the musical resembiance ends. Formal structures are much more
varied, although there may be the strophic procedures of the hymn; 1 methods include
through-composition, with constantly new music, the double dursus of the sequence, and
even forms borrowed from the secular, such as the rondellus and bailade.
Conductus as it appears in the services has generally the musical characteristics already
seen in the late hymn; the poetic rhythm of
text is often ignored by the composer, for long melismata do fail
Quem cluae - ri - tis in se-pul - chro Chri - sti - co-lae?
56 ACCRETIONS TO THE LJTURGY
on unstressed syliables. These works seem to have been composed with a definite effort to
make them fit stylistically with the piam chant of the rest of the service.
Of ali the liturgi cal accretions, the conductus is freest in its creation, for it did not take its
beginning from a musical demand of the liturgy. It was, therefore, a category with few
restrictions on both text and music. As such an expression, its artistic relations reached
outside the Church; there is the assumption that the musical and poetical characteristics of
the conductus had existed long before its liturgicai use as processional music. The name is a
late addition, based on its function alone. As a monophonic artistic creation, it had a secular
history, to be discussed in the next chapter; as a polyphonic category, it held an important
piace in the music of the thirteenth century, to which we shail turn later.
The interest in sacred monophonic composition reached its peak in the late tweifth century,
declining rapidly thereafter. With the risc of poiyphony and the growth thereby of increased
artistic op portunity, the interest of musicians rapidly turned to the newer tech fiques, with
the goa! of re-ornamenting with polyphony ali those arcas that had been so carefully
elaborated in plainchant over preced_ ing centuries. We can look back in amazement at the
complexity and variety of what is, to many modern ears, the barest of materiais, the single
musical une. Yet, within this simpiicity we find the essence of medieval thinking, the
elaboration of a world of complicated reason ing on a simple assumption.
I3ibliography
As a source for the general background of ali the categories men— tioned, F. J. E. Raby’s
Christian Latin Poetry (Oxford: Oxford Uni versity Press, 2nd ed., 1953) is basic. It may be
supplemented by F. Brittain, The Medieval Latin and Romance Latin Lyric (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1951).
The music for the hymn is generaily available in the various chanr books already named.
For the sequence, two coliections wili give an ides of the range of the music, H. M.
Banister and Dom Anseim Hughes, Anglo-French Sequelae (London: Plainsong and
Mediaeval Music So ciety, 1934), and Dom R.-J. Hesbert, Le Prosaire de la Sainte-Chapelie
(Mâcon: Prorat Frêres, 1952), a facsimile of a thirteenth-cenniry collec tion. The liturgical
drama has received some attention of late through an
ACCRETIONS TO THE LITURGy 57
excellent recording of the “Play of Daniel” by Noah Greenberg and the New York Pro
Musica (Decca DL 9402); he has also prepared a modern editjon of the work (Oxford:
Oxford University Press, 1960). For the conductus, many musical examples are given in
Friedrich Gennrich, Lateinjsche Liedkontrafaktur (Darmstadt: Gennrich, 1956).
Although most of the authorities on the sequence, trope, and con ductus were written in
German, the works of Jacques Handschjn and Hans Spanke being the niost important, rwo
arricles in Eng wili fur nish interesting sidelighrs: Richard L. Crocker, “The Repertory of
Proses at Saint Martial de Limoges in the lOth Century” in Journal of the Amer ican
Musicological Society, XI (1958), and Leonard Ellinwood, “The Conductus” in Musical
Quarrerly, XXVII (1941).
For liturgical drama, E. K. Chambers, The Medieval Stage (Oxford:
Oxford Univer Press, 2 vois., 1903) and Karl Young, The Drama of the Medieval Church
(Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2 vois., 1933) are esscntjai. The latest researches are due
to I L. Smoldon, with par ticular reference to his article in the New Oxford History of
Music, II.
4
SECULAR MONOPHONY 59
4
Secular Monophony
The study of non1iturgiCal monophOflY to the twelfth and thirteenth centuries contains
many problemS and complications that cannot allow final answers. That there must have
been a great quan tity of non_religiOUS music during these ages is a truism, for we have
intimations of its importance in the history of the hymn; the adapta tion of popular melodies
to new poetry of sacred character implies the existence of a large stock of music without
relation to liturgical purposes. Enough mention of music in connectiofl with purely secu lar
activities is made that we can be sure that it played an importaflt role in the everyday life of
the time. Nevertheless, our knowledge is both skirnpy and uncertain.
A major reason for our difficulties is the almost complete failure of transmission. If music
(and its aliied poetry) were to exist for fu ture generations, it needed to be copied into
manuscripts and then preserved in some kind of library. In view of the laborious processes
required, the expense of materiais, and the iength of time needed, there was the natural
tendency of those who directed the scribes to emphasize that which was most essential in
their eyes. Since the preparation of manuscripts was the exclusive province of the trained
cieric, worlcing either within a monastery or a royai court, the end result was an almost
complete negiect of ali that did not contribute to the functioning of the one or the other
estabiishment. Within the monastery, the emphasis feil on the copying of material for the
liturgy, religious tracts of various kinds, and instructional works in ali those areas needed
for reiigious training. Within the courts, major effort was spent on correspondence and
items directly tied to the process of government, with passing attention to chronologies, his
tory, and laudatory poems. In view of what was to men of the period their lack of
seriousness and meaning, secular productions received scant attention and were not
normally considered worthy of preser_ vation.
A second factor is the background of what was preserved, for it refiects principaily one
social group, the clerical circies that had suffi cient education to write down their
achievernents. If we remember hat the skilis of reading and writing were restricted to a
comparative .andful, and that this handfui was part of the religious segment of
-ciety, then it can be understood that those works we do have are, in main, representative of
that class and no other. Only when social
conditions had begun to change and the non-religious had begun to have something of the
sarne education as the cleric couid there be
preservation of great numbers of compositions from men not of
stic background.
Finally, there is the question of musical notation, often a secon ary matter in the minds of
the scribes and therefore omitted. Even vhen included, because of the siow development of
accurate meth ‘;, many of our earlier sources cannot be accurately deciphered d, in ali too
many cases, we can oniy be sure that there was music D accompany certain texts; from the
indefinite character of the no ation used it is impossible to define the melody. In certain
cases, here is even the implication that the melody to be sung was so fa
rn
58
SECULAR MONOPHØNY ór
of the young, their subjects ranging from the most chaste of love
lyrics to the most obscene of drinking songs. Preserved principally in a Cambridge
manuscript of the twelfth century and a thirteenth
century manuscri from Benedictbeuern known as the Carmina
Burana, these poems show the mixture of sacred and secular forms
and rhythn-is to be expected from those whose training has been reli
gious but whose lives were spent outside religious establishments
f WThiie musical notation appears in both sources, it is of an early type that will not aliow
transcription. Certain melodies can be suppiied
from later sources, where the notation is more advanced, but not suf ficient in number to
give a complete picture.
There is, however, a strong suggestion that many of the meIo Fj dies used by the Goiiards
were of sacred origin, a not implausible
1 source in view of the custom of troping. We have one secular piece,
“O admirabile Veneris idolum” (“O lovely image of Venus”), whjch uses as its melody that
of a processional hymn, “O Roma nobjljs”
(“O nobie Rome”). It is probable that many others have been arrived at by the same
process, termed contra f actum, by which new texts are
supplied as repiac.ements for the old; this technique is well within the medieval tradition of
building on the pre-existent.
Troubadours and trouvères
Under the onslaught of successive waves of barbarians and the
varieties of languages brought with them, Latin as a means of com munication at ali levels
of society began to weaken. Whiie it re mained the ianguage of the Church and of educated
men, it steadily
assumed less and Iess importance for those outside clerical circles, for F secular society
turned to those variations brought about by the im pact of the invaders. While thjs process
was going on all over Europe,
I the flrst evidences of an effort to elevate the new languages to car [ riers of artistic intent
were seen in France, where two strong move_
ments can be discerned.
The flrst of these, found in Southern France from around the middle of the eleventh
century, is that associated with the language
now known as Provençal or the langue d’oc and whose musicjan
poets are known as troubadours. The second, in Northern France and rising from the middie
of the twelfth century, used the language
1
6o SECULAR MONOPHONY
miliar that it did not need to be indicated, a familiarity that does not exist for us today.
With all these factors at work, the secular music preserved from these early centuries is
certainly not a complete representation, for it is far too fragmentary and inadequate. The
poetry is in Latin, the language of but one class; the music is indefinite, although implied.
In most cases, we can only infer and suggest; we cannot be certain.
Latin secular music
In the beginning, sacred and secular monophony are exceedingly difficult to separate.
Those men whom we know to have been the major representatives of secular creation, men
such as Venantius Fortunatus (530?-609), are part of both worlds, reflecting both the
religious and the laic; their poetic and musical forms indicate that they were highly
influenced by those developed within the liturgy. While much of the poetico-musical
activity took place in Southern France, in Provence and Aquitaine, important centers also
existed in Northern Italy, in Bobbio and Verona. 1 two latter monasteries, founded by the
Irish monk, St. Columban, were extremely produc tive in the seventh through ninth
centuries. Perhaps their most im portant achievement was the development of refrain fbrms,
to be taken over later by works in the vernacular.
With the period of Charlemagne, the ninth century, a certain rebirth of interest in the Latin
classic made its appearance. From this time come musical settings of such works as
Boethius’ Consolation of Philosophy, certain of the Horatian Odes and parts of Vergil’s
Aeneid; because of the notation used, they are indecipherable. With this looking backward,
there also came an enlargement of subjects treated, including now love songs, songs of
praise, and laments. There is within all these an implied necessity for music even when
music does not appear with the text. There are also included within these texts descriptions
of instruments of the time, suggesting the growth of instrumental accompaniment to vocal
pieces.
The most important secular Latin products of a slightly later time are those found within the
compositions produced by the Goliards or wandering scholars. These men, all clerics who
roamed from one uni versity to another as they pleased, show in their works the naturalism
62 SECULAR MONOPHONY
variation at the root of rnodern French or the langue d’ou; artists working in this tongue are
calied trouvêres. In both cases, the names suggest connection with the older process of
troping.
The major center for the growth of early troubadour art was around Poitiers, the seat of the
Duke of Aquitaine; one may recali that this area is that from which carne both Hilary and
Venantius Fortunatus. As a part of that duchy and with a chateau for the Dulce, Limoges in
Limousin also acted as a secondary center, with much cross influence between the ducal
establishment and the monastery of St. Martial. In time, the influence spread through most
of southern France, covering the basin of the Garonne to Toulouse and Nar bonne. These
areas were generaily unified by their political outiook as weli as their language; a certain
kind of civilization arose there that was conducive to the production of art of ali kinds.
This new civilization was one of leisure, without the necessity of continual combat to
protect itself. Influenced by the Church and its desire to keep peace, except against the
Church’s own enemies, the knights of Provence found themselves attached to their casties
in a life of comparative ease. With this new leisure for men carne leisure for women and a
change in the relations between the sexes to an exaltation of the piace of the lady in noble
society. As a way of showing greatness, a lavish scale of living became the custom, dem
onstrated by attention to dispiay in clothing, furniture, housing, food, drink, and in ali other
pursuits of enjoyrnent. Among these pastimes, the art of the troubadour soon took a high
place, for, within this new framework, the achievements of a noble musician-poet could
give him the sarne high reputation that a preëminence in battie could have given in previous
tirnes.
The first important representative of the new spirit was Williarn IX, Duke of Aquitaine
(1071-1127), of whorn eleven works are pre served, with a fragrnentary meiody for one.
These pieces show the broad characteristics of those to follow, arnong them the understand
ing that these songs are intended for an aristocratic audience and that the poetry is to be
expressive of the feelings of the author, subjective reactions to the topic involved. In later
generations this subjectiveness became a deliberate obscurity of expression, even to the use
of coined words; the best representative of this tendency is Arnaut Daniel (1180?-1210?),
rnuch praised by Dante.
The principal subject of troubadour pieces is love in ali its vari
ous aspects; indeed, the forty poerns we have of Bernart de Venta dour (after 1150) are built
on nothing else. In addition, there are dialogues in the manner of debates, wherein a subject
is proposed and two viewpoints are exposed in alternation; this poetic contest, per haps
modeled on real ones, is the tenso, partimen or joc partit. A third broad category is the
sirventes, taking up almost any subject except that of love. Among its subtypes are the
Crusade song, the political satire, and the planh on the death of a protector or friend. These
songs were not norrnally performed by the creator but by a special class of musicians
known as the jongleur. The jongleur was not a composer or poet, but merely a performer
who rnade his living by going from place to place and dispiaying his talent for any social
levei that would pay him. While the great mass of jongleurs remained the servants of the
lower classes, some few were iucky enough to be received into the castles, where their
talents were at the service of the nobility; these men were known as minstrels. They were
ex pected to please their various audiences and therefore had large rep ertoires of almost
every type of musical entertainment. Not only did they sing the short creations of their
betters, but also gave rnuch attention to the long epic poems of the time, the chansons de
geste of which the “Song of Roland” is the best known example; these were sung to short
rnelodic formulae that íitted the rhythmic pat terns of the poern. In addition to
accornpanying themselves instru mentafly, they were also expected to provide music for
dancing, with acrobatics and juggling as supplementary diversions.
The art of the troubadour disappeared at the beginning of the thirteenth century, with the
destruction of Provençal civilization in the Albigensian Crusades that began in 1209 and
ended twenty years later. With the conquest of Southern France by men of the North and
the consequent politicai and social upheavais, the ciass that had brought forth the
troubadour vanished. By the end of the thirteenth century the last troubadour, Guiraut
Requier (1235?-1292), had brought the story to an end; even he spent the last years of his
life in Spain, under the protection of Alfonso X.
Contact between Northern and Southern France had been con stant for many centuries and
many troubadours, Ventadour and others, are known to have visited Northern courts during
the twelfth century. The Crusades too caused many meetings between the nobles of both
areas, occasions on which the troubadour art was dernon
64 SECULAR MONOPIIONY
strated. By the mid-twelfth century the exchange had become suffi ciently effective that
certain Northerners began to imitate in their own language the work of their Southern
masters. These first productions are little more than changes of language, foliowing
Southern tech fique and content almost slavishly. Indeed, admiration for troubadour modeis
was so great that many of the most highly esteemed were later quoted in trouvêre works.
While the original trouvère productions were imitative, as with the songs of Conon de
Béthune (1150?-1219) and Guy de Coucy (1186?- 1203), later creations moved toward an
individuality based on dance forms and the refrain. Certain troubadour forms did have
imitators, but these gradually disappeared before the popularity of the rondeau, the virelai
and the baliade, forms of minor importance within the troubadour repertoire. Ali three of
these forms are or ganized by a refrain, suggesting the possibility of responsorial per
formance, using a leader and a chorai group. In its classic form, the rondeau began with a
refrain of a fuil strophe, followed by a haif strophe and a half-refrain; after a succeeding
fui! strophe there was a return to the fuli refrain to dose the work. Musicaliy, there were but
two fragments, one for each half-strophe and repeated in accord with the poetic text; the
fuli diagram is ABAAABAB. The baliade was normally of three strophes of seven or eight
lines each; the last one or two lines of each strophe are identical and act as a refrain. The
musical form is AAB, each A standing for two lines and the closing B the remaining ones;
this form is much lilce the canzo of the trouba dours. The third form, the virelai, begins
with a refrain of a fuli strophe, followed by two half_strophes (the ouvert and the elos), a
fuil strophe (the tierce) and doses with the fuil refrain. Musically, the form is ABBAA, with
each A representing a fuil strophe, each B a haif. Ali three of these forms remained
important weli into the Renaissance.
Preservation of poetry and music of both troubadours and trou vères has been
comparatively plentiful, for we have about 2500 trou badour poems and 250 melodies, with
over 4000 trouvêre texts and some 1400 musical accompaniments. In view of the high
social dis tinction accorded to gifted nobles, it was felt appropriate that coilec tions
(chansonniers) be subsidized by them for presentation purposes or for simple giory. It may
be presumed that the copyists were clerics attached to the household.
The music for troubadour and trouvère songs is generaily simple, frequently emphasizing
the syllabic and with normaliy short melisma, again much like the hymn. The influence of
the modes is apparent, although there is a tendency to introduce accidentais in such a way
as to suggest more of our modern major and minor. The range is usu aily limited, seldom
going to the octave. As to rhythm, most authori ties today agree that the notes of these
songs were not of equal length and were organized into rhythmic patterns much like those
seen in the polyphonic works of the thirteenth century. The agreement ends here, for there
is often much dispute over the application of these patterns to the individual composition.
As a sample of both the me lodic appearance and the possibie rhythmic interpretation that
may be used, we give here a short troubadour work in honor of the Virgin Mary, taken from
a twelfth—century manuscript originating at St. Martial in Limoges:
!
Secular monophony in Italy

With the Albigensian Crusade and the consequent confusion, many troubadours fied to
other parts of Europe. One of the preferred refuges was Northern Italy, an area aiready
visited by many Pro vença! artists during the late tweifth century; particu!arly important
was the court of the Marquis of Montferrat, who had received Peire L (1175?-1205?) and
Raimbaut de Vaqueiras (1155?-1207?). Raimbaut’s works show the international character
of the troubadour, for he is the author of a descort that has its first five strophes succes
sively in Provençal, Italian, French, Gascon, and Galician-Portuguese; the sixth, of ten
lines, repeats the order of languages in its five paired nes. He is the writer of the eariiest
known poetry in Italian (1202).
The Italian trovatori of the North generaily followed their trou badour masters closely, not
only taking over their techniques but also their subject rnatter. Some few Italian poems are
alrnost literal trans lations of Provençal models, although the more usual derivation is that
of a transfer of imagery. More originality is found in the output of the South, for, under
Frederick 11(1211-1250), Sicily became a major center of development. The climax of the
process of develop ment of an individual Italian approach carne only at the end of the
thirteenth century and in Central Italy, with Dante (1265-1321) as the real founder of Italian
literature.
No music for any of these Italian courtly songs has survived, but a great number of hymns
in the vernacular have remained. These hyrnns, known as laudi spirituali, were the result of
a spiritual revival climaxed by the work of St. Francis of Assisi (1182-1226) and were
designed for performance by the lower classes. Written in a popular Italian, the laudi show
the influence of chant, but there are other secular elements apparent. In form, the Italian
equivalent of the vire lai, the ballata (not to be confused with the ballade) is normal, al
though the music may not be as simple as its French counterpart; there are often fresh
melodies in each section.
Secular monophony in Spain and Portugal
The situation in Spain and Portugal was almost exactly that seen in Italy, for the various
courts of the Iberian peninsula had long held dose connections with those of Southern
France. Peire Vidal was one of the dose friends of Alfonso II of Aragon, and other
troubadours had become well known in Castille and in Portugal. As in Italy, the earliest
productions were extremely dose to their sources in all facets, with the rise of peculiarly
Iberian manifestations coming in the thirteenth century; even here, there were some
reproaches for failure not to follow the Provençal models closely enough.
Preservation of a Spanish-Portuguese repertoire of purely secu lar music has been poor, for
only six songs in Galician_Portuguese have survived with their music. What has come
down to us is a col lection of Marian songs, the Cantigas de Santa Maria, settings of poerns
relating miracles performed by Her. Although the Cantigas are all anonyrnous, it is
probable that certain ones are by Alfonso X
(122 1-1284) of Castilie and Leon, for the coliection was put together at bis court. Many of
these songs reflect French influence, the whole group recalling the Miracles de Notre Dame
by Gautier de Coinci (1177-1236). In form, the maj ority follow the outlines of the virelai,
while the music harks back to the chant.
Secular monophony in England
In spite of a dose connection between England and the conti nent, there seems to have been
little growth of a purely native re sponse to troubadour influence. During the late twelfth
century, parts of Southern France were possessions of the English crown through the
marriage of Eleanor of Aquitaine to Henry II, and the presence of troubadours at the
English court was common; Bernard de Ventadour visited there. Indeed, Eleanor’s son,
Richard the Lion Hearted, became a practicing trouvêre; bis death in 1199 was mourned by
Gaucelm Faidit (1180?-1220) in a moving planh, the only one whose music has come down
to us.
The failure of troubadour art to call forth extensive English re action lies in the great gulf
between the Norman nobility, speaking a variation of French, and the rest of the country.
Not until England could develop an individual language of literary capability could there be
great progress, a stage that did not occur until Chaucer’s time. Nevertheless, a few simple
melodies with English text have re mained, generally syllabic and with scale-wise motion
as a major characteristic; there is much repetition of similar fragments, suggest ing an
approach to melody through formulae.
Minnesingers and Meistersingers
As in the other parts of Europe, Germany underwent the influ ence of the troubadours early,
during the late twelfth century. Ex changes were facilitated principally by the Crusades, but
there were
1 frequent visits by troubadours and trouvêres into Northern Europe; these visits extended
quite far, for Peire Vidal is found at the Hun garian court of Emeric around 1200.
Intermarriage was also of impor tance in furthering cultural exchange, with an outstanding
example
in the wedding of Beatrice of Burgundy to Frederic Barbarossa in
1156.
On the whole, as descendants from the troubadour-trouvère tra dition, the Minnesingers
remained closer to their masters. Recent re search has indicated that the early development
of Minnesinger poetry is almost completely imitative, with few individual touches; themes,
techniques forms, and imagery are ali cioseiy tied to French origi nais. It may be that this
wiii explain the comparative poverty of musi cal sources, for ir is probable that the first
Minnesingers not only took over ali the poetic characteristics of their teachers but their
melodies as well. We do have the story from one Minnesinger that bis lady had sent him an
untexted French melody to which he should supply a German text.
Whether or not there was originally a direct taking over of French melodies, it is certain
that German forms followed closely those developed in the South. Of particular importance
was the German equivalent of the bailade, the Bar form, with its Stolien Stollen-Abgesang,
so eloquently described by Hans Sachs in Richard lÃ “Die Meistersinger” of over five
centuries later. Other forms included imitations of the troubadour patterns, the Spruch
following the sirventes, the Geteiltezspil thè joc partit, and the Leich the descort or lai.
Later Minnesingers show a greater individuality, aithough there is always a reliance upon
French models in the background. The peak of the movement comes somewhat late in
comparison to other areas, the closing thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries marking the
high point. After this time the Minnesinger art declined rapidly, pass ing over into
bourgeois society as imitation of upper-class customs. This movement within the middle
ciass was undertaken by the group known as the Meistersingers, a guild_like organization
that survived into the early nineteenth century. Athough the Meistersingers were
theoretically both poets and composers, the accent feil most strongly on the poetic side, for
the major efforts were devoted to the provision of new poetry for a stock of traditional
melodies. Musically, there was little viable in the Meistersinger movement, for it
represented an effort to take over an activity of an upper social levei by a middle class to
whom it was artificial and at a time when it no longer held artistic possibilities.
It is significant that the fuli fiowering of secular monophony
comes at a time when monophony was no longer of great concern to musicians within the
Church. With the steady development of p0- lyphony, the attention of professional church
composers and per formers turned to the new technique, for it made a greater appeal to their
artistic talents. As a result, the provision of new monophonic works within the Church was
left more and more to the less trained, the amateur, a man not able to work with the new
complications. The task of providing the liturgy with a new polyphonic adorn ment,
replacing or suppiementing older monophony, was sufficiently challenging and intriguing
to cause a comparative neglect of further expansion of the sacred monophonic repertoire by
the professional; he turned to poiyphony.
The amateur status of monophony in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries is reflected by the
taking over of this area by the secular musician-poet working in the vernacular, a man with
little of the mu sical background common to the church-trained. A musical novice, he
perforce feli back on what he had heard—chant and popular meio dies—without going
further. For him, the area of greatest interest was not the music but the poetry. The very
notion of a stock of melodies, a group of formulae, to which many poems couid be set
implies this lowered piace of music, as does the failure to preserve melodies and poems in
equai quantity. Even in those cases where the music is of some artistic significance, and
there are many, there is stili a sense of reliance upon an already developed artistic
foundation, one carried to a peak by church musicians of the past.
Together with the failure of monophony to maintain its previ ously high artistic position
goes its consequent drop in philosophical importance. In treatises of the time, the piace of
monophony becomes more and more a demonstration of certain fundamentais whose philo
sophical meaning is intensified when absorbed into polyphony. In a nutshell, polyphony
demonstrates the meanings of speculative music better than does monophony and thus
stands on a higher levei. Where Guido had spent time giving directions on how to compose
simpie monophony, thirteenth-century theorists take the same space on how to improvise
simpie polyphony.
With the failure of sacred monophony to continue its expansion in the face of the rise of
polyphony, it is no surprise to see the Church turning to secular productions when it needed
monophony for par ticular purposes. Stylistically in accord with the already existing rep_
70 SECULAR MONOPITONY
SECULAR MONOPHONy 71
ertoire because of their background, secular monophonic works could be and were provi
ded with new texts to fit a new function. Many thir teenth-century monophonic conductus
were so derived and numer ous other works were given Latin religious contra facta, for the
con tinuation of monophonic composition in secular circumstances gave ample stocks of
melodies to satisfy the Church’s requirements. In time, many of these were made part of
later polyphonic composi tions, for the custom of providing contraf acta in both directions,
from sacred to secular and vice versa, gradually destroyed any feeling on the composer’s
part that any melody necessarily carried connota tions from the text to which it had been
originally fitted. It became to him but a musical element, to be used in a musical
construction and handled in the same fashion, regardless of whether its origin be sacred or
secular. All of this is but one facet of the increasing secu larization of the Middle Ages, to
which we will return later, in our discussion of the polyphony of the thirteenth century.
Like the decline of monophony in the Church, the disappear ance of secular monophony
may be tied to the risc of polyphony. As the new technique showed its higher artistic
possibilities, the secular musician became more and more aware of its increased
opportunities for expression. Just as monophony fell to a second place in the Church, so did
it drop in secular circles. Wich an appreciation and understanding of the superiority of
polyphony, the secular composer endeavored to carry over the new technique into secular
arcas; the growth of secular polyphony can be directly tied to the gradual dis appearance of
secular monophony. In those arcas such as France, where polyphony made its first gains,
secular monophonic works on the upper levels disappeared first; in Germany, where
polyphony de veloped late, it remained long after it had vanished almost every where else.
Of course, secular monophony never completely vanished. Per haps a better phrase would
be that it lost its artistic significance for the social class that had originally fostered it. As of
lower artistic im port it remained a manner of musical expression to lower levels of society,
either as imitation of their betters or as an artless expression in musical terms. The folk
song survived, as it always had and always will, but it was no longer taken as worthy of
professional attention and elevation. Art music henceforth was to be polyphony, something
not capable of composition by anyone without thorough grounding
in its techniques. In monophony, the amateur might compete, but in polyphony he could
not.
As we have seen, the early Church Fathers were deeply opposed to the use of instruments
within the liturgy, regarding them as too much a part of pagan culture. As such, they had no
place within a Christian life and were to be shunned by every believer. Some excep_ tions
were made from time to time, such as a certain acceptance for the lute and kithara because
of their relation to King David, but these were always understood to be special cases. In
spite of Biblical refer ence to the trumpet, cymbals, and other instruments, their relation to
Greek and Roman society was such as to inspire mistrust.
With the split of East and West and the continual influx of bar barians careless of the artistic
agreements of the past, the problem of forbidding instruments became simpler; most of
those under suspi cion had disappeared and those in use had no connotational problems. In
the course of time, there was a general movement to forget many of the attitudes of the past
and to accept as part of the musical scene the use of instruments. While many were
indigenous products, com ing from various parts of Europe and especially from the outer
edges, some were importations from Asia via the many contacts that we
- have already noticed. By the tenth century, instruments were an ac knowledged part of
musical practice and, to judge from our sources, with standard symbolic meanings.
So far as the Church was concerned, the most useful of all in struments was the organ.
Although the Romans had developed a form of organ called the hydraulis, from its reliance
on water pres sure, the medieval organ or positive was supplied with air from a bel ows,
worked by either hands or feet. The choice of tones was not governed by a keyboard in the
earlier examples but by a series of slides that opened and closed the appropriate pipe. A true
keyboard :s we know it was not developed until the twelfth century, but even
then mechanical friction made the action so hard that it required a full-fisted blow on the
key to cause the sound. In spite of the primi tive state of engineering, attempts were made
to charge the organ’s possibilities, one instrument of the tenth century at ‘Winchester be
Instruments and instrumental musie
! (p. 72)
ing built with two manuais, 26 sets of beliows and 400 pipes Early 1 organs were loud and
not in tune; nevertheless the positive became
an important part of the Church’s music, so much so that ali other instruments were
eventually banned from the services. By the four teenth century, it had assumed a place in
the symbolism of the time
as “the king of instruments,” a term used even today and derived from both its sound and
its place in worship.
As a form of easiiy transported organ, the portative became part £ of the music at court.
Smail and capabie of being worked by one man
without assistance, it carried none of the reiigious overtones associ- : ated with its larger
brother. Since one hand of the executant was
occupied in building up the air pressure, its position was not that of a poiyphonic
instrument but one used in group performance, as a member of chamber combinations.
Together with the portative were associated many other mono phonic instruments of
varying types and methods of sound produc- u tion; these inciude the harp, the psaitery, and
the lute (plucked stringed instruments) and the vielle and the rebec (bowed instruments).
Although the harp had a long history, the one used by the E Middle Ages was brought from
Ireland where it had the connotations of a royal instrument; it appears even today in the
Irish coat-of-arms. By the late twelfth century it had iost something of its position, for it
was then the instrument favored by jongleurs and wandering ac tors. Both psaitery and lute
were originally brought to Europe by the Moors in Spain and slowly spread to the rest of
the continent; curi ousiy, both were not normally plucked by the bare íinger but by a quiil or
rod. The goal seems to have been a certain impersonality of tone.
The vieile, like the harp, was primarily an instrument used by the jongleur to accompany
the chanson de geste or to provide music for dancing. One of the more celebrated secular
works of the tweifth century, the “Kaienda Maya” by Raimbaut de Vaqueiras, was the re
sult of the troping of an estampida played for him on the vielle. While usually played with
the bow, it could be plucked. The rebec, an instrument of Arabian origin, is the distant
ancestor of our violin, although its original shape suggests a relation to the lute; in the thir
teenth century, it had but two strings, tuned to C and G.
Two groups of instruments, the brass and percussion, were the
particular property of the nobility. Of highest significance was the
Rome, Vatican, Rossiano 455, folio 1 recto. The text is the opening of the Declaratio
rnusicae disciplinae by Ugolino of Orvieto. At the right, from top to bottom, are pictures of
cherubs playing various instruments:
the vielie, the lute, the portative, the psaltery, and the hurdy-gurdy. The illuminated initial
shows an artisan building an organ. At the bottom are singers grouped around a music
book.
oiiphant, a bom most often made of an elephant’s tusk, although sometimes found in gold;
its Eastern origin is obvious. As a symboi of nobility, it was carried by a knight as part of
his standard equipment; it could not belong to any other class. It was an oliphant that the
dying Roland sounded at Roncesvailes, and certain medieval minha tures show it as being
used by the Archangel Gabriel at the Day of Judgment. The trumpet, in wood or brass, also
served as a military instrument, used on ali grand occasions. Together with the timpani,
brought to Europe in the Crusades period, it was symbolic of the royal presence and its
piayers were given precedence over other in strumentalists of the court. Its functions in war
wer similar to those in later periods.
There is sufficient evidence to prove that instruments were a normal part of almost ali
musical performances, but the music itself gives no clue as to how instruments took part.
Modern performances of medieval music have attempted to reconstruct as well as possible
the original conditions, but there can be no final guarantee of authen ticity. About ali that
we can be certain of is that medieval audiences liked varieties of instruments, not
homogeneous choirs. In Guillaume de Machaut’s description of a concert from the
fourteenth century, 31 different instruments are iisted as part of the orchestra and a total of
more than flfty piayers in the ensembie is implied. The music as we ílnd it in the sources
suggests none of this. Indeed, we have no flrm ideas of how monophonic music was
accompanied, although we are sure that it was; in ali likelihood, the accompanying une
essen tially duplicated that of the singer, with occasional added ornamenta tion, in what is
called heterophony.
The eariiest independent instrumental pieces in our sources come from late
thirteenth_century English manuscripts and are dances for one instrument. The most
interesting of these is the stantipes, for maily organized in the doubie cursus of the
sequence. Derivations from this form can be found until the early Renaissance, in both
French and Italian sources. That even the few exampies we find have survived is surprising,
for the place of the dance in the Middie Ages was such that copying of these works into a
permanent shape was not to be expected; in the manuscripts where they appear, they are
obvious afterthoughts.
Some polyphonic music for instruments has been preserved, the most important being two
codices of keyboard music from the four
teenth century, the Robertsbridge Codex of Engiish provenance and the Italian Faenza
Codex. Both contam sacred and secular works in idiomatic arrangements and show an
effort to add figurations and ornaments to give the work a more instrumental cast. From
inspec_ tion of the contents of both sources, it is evident that truly independ ent
instrumental music was only at its beginnings and that vocal music was the center of
creative activity.
l3ibliography
Although he says little about the music, F. J. E. Raby’s History of Latin Secular Foetry in
the Middle Ages, 2 vols. (Oxford: Oxford Uni versity Press, 1934) is essential; one should
not overlook Helen Waddell, The Wandering Scholars (New York: Doubleday, 1955). Jack
Westrup, “Medieval Song,” in the New Oxford History of Music, II, is extreniely helpful on
ali aspects of secular monophony and includes many examples.
H. J. Chaytor, The Troubadours (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni versity Press, 1912), aithough
dated, is still one of the best sources in English; most of the work on this subject has been
done by French and German scholars, in particular Jean Beck, Pierre Aubry, and Friedrich
Gennrich. If possible, their many works should be consulted, particularly for the musical
examples. For a good survey of trouvêre achievements, see Jessie Crosland, Medieval
French Literciture (Oxford: Basil Biackwell, 1956). Both Beck and Aubry have published
several volumes of trouvêre compositions. Theodore Karp’s recent article, “Borrowed
Material in Trouvêre Music” in Acta Musicologica, XXXIV (1962), is a fascinating snidy
of cross-relationships; in addition, Robcrt H. Perrin’s articles in the Journal of the American
Musico/o gical Society, IX (1956) and XVI (1963), should be consulteci.
Early Italian music is best presented by Fernando Liuzzi, whose La Lauda e i primordi de/la
melodia italiana (Rome, 1935) is an outstanding achievernent. Gennrich has prepared
severai small volumes of facsimiles of Minnesinger worlcs for lis classes at Darmstadt;
these give a thorough idea of the style. A complete transcription of the Cantigas is
available:
Higini Anglès, La Musica de las Cantigas de Santa Maria (Barcelona, 1943).
For the history of musical instruments, Curt Sachs, The History of
Musical Instruments (New York: Norton, 1940) is basic. Edmund A.
Bowies has published several articles in the last few years on the place of
instruments in the Middle Ages; these appeared in Acta Musico/o gica,
XXXIII (1961), Revue de Musicologie, XLII (1958), and Archiv für
Musikwissenschaft, XVIII (1961). A facsimile of the Faenza Codex was published in
Musica Disciplina, XIII-XV (1959-1961), and a complete transcription has been announced
by Dragan Plamenac, to be published
- by the American Institute of Musicology, Rome.
THE BEGINNJNGS OF POLYPHONY 77
5
The Beginnings of Polyphony
1 f one had to define in a few words the characteristics that set the music of the West apart
from that of other cultures, the first point to be noticed would be, in ali probability, the
simultaneous per formance of many individual melodic lines, ali generaily under the
control of the composer. While other civilizations do have music with a multitude of
individual lines sounding at the sarne time, in most cases there is reliance upon
improvisatory skills of the performer to produce this variety, not the guiding hand of the
inventor. In these alien cultures, there is not the easy possibility of duplication of per
formance, the repetition of the sarne work in the sarne form and shape as in its original
creation; in rnost of them, the starting point is
76
not a completed composition, but a simpie scheme to guide the per forrners in their
individual elaborations, without pre_existing compli Cations.
Although Western poiyphonic rnusic began frorn this point, the perforrners’ improvisation
of an accompanying line or lines to a given melody, its history has been the steady growth
of the place of the composer to a cornrnanding position over the performer. The devei
oprnent of notation, the introduction of tempo markings and dynamic signs, the expianation
of interpretation by verbal directions, the com plications of orchestration, ali these and
others are direct indications of the ever—increasing domination of the creator over the
reproducer. That many composers of today have turned to electronic means and the
computer is but a iogical conciusion to the historical process of the past, the steady growth
of the composer’s absolute control of the interpretation and performance of his musical
creations, without in tervening interpreters.
The beginnings of this process in the Middle Ages show little of what was to come, for
early polyphony owed its start to the impro j vising performer. Where the inspiration for
this new technique, even— 1 tualiy called counterpoint from its note_against_note
characteristics (punctus contra punctum, to give the Latin), originated has not been
satisfactorily settled. Many theories have been advanced in both past and present, but no
hypothesis has yet been given that has brought general agreement. Some scholars have
suggested the ancestry may lie in Greek music, where is found a technique of two
performers im provising on the sarne melody, or heterophony. Others have supposed that its
roots rest in the natural variations in voice placernent from one person to another; they
theorize that the sarne melody sung by tenor and bass at the sarne time, both using the most
comfortabie parts of their ranges, wouid produce a series of paraliel intervais re sernbiing
the products of eariy poiyphony. Further hypotheses in ciude an origin in folk music, a
result of chance discovery, or the
outcome of philosophical specuiation on the possibility of simultane ous intervai
performance. Perhaps the only certainty may be that polyphony in one form or another
existed elsewhere before we see s growth in the West; it may well be that, like the hymn
and so many other liturgical additions, poiyphony was imported from the East.
Regardless of origin, by the seventh and eighth centuries a simpie
LI Li
o
o
78 THE BEGINNINGS OF
TI-IE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONY 79
irnprovised counterpoint had developed to such a point that writers were beginning to
mention it in terms that imply that it was of com mon practice. Our earliest remarks come
from a treatise on Latin prosody from England, by Bishop Aldhelm (640?-709), who refers
to organum, the term for this elementary note-against-note technique, as a symboi of well
arranged metric accent. He also notes that orga num was of particular value for joyfui
occasions; this attitude toward polyphony, that it could serve as a musical discriminant
within the iiturgy by setting off a day of importance through its use, is a major factor in its
later development. There is also a ninth-century state ment that Rornan singers imported to
France by Charlemagne in 787 taught the fundamentais of polyphonic improvisation to
their stu dents there. Most authorities do not take this report seriously, for it is probabie that
its author was trying to justify the use of polyphony by referring its derivation to the heart
of the Church; the whoie epi sode seems to be the product of imagination rather than fact.
When, at iast, technical descriptions of poiyphony began to appear in theo retical worlcs by
the ninth and tenth centuries, there was no effort to trace its history or to attach it to
particular regions; evidentiy, it was of sufficient age and universality to be considered a
custom, not a novelty.
Like the other accretions to the iiturgy mentioned eariier, the beginnings of counterpoint are
found in the various monasteries of the West and their attached choir-schoois. Indeed, the
sarne religious centers important in the development of the sequence and trope were those
where polyphony received its first impetus. and the piacing of an additional une of music
against one aiready given is in the sarne tradition as literary troping, where an addition of a
text is made to a pre-existing melody. Polyphony, in its eariiest stages, is no more than
musical troping and, iike its literary brother, another form of that reference to authority so
much a part of the medieval mi. The given melody, the basic plainchant, is that authority to
which com mentary, now in musical terms, has been added. As in the history of the literary
trope, the musical trope or polyphony was to undergo an expansion that would go far
beyond a complete reliance upon the given material; even though the added material
eventually was to overshadow the basic foundation by its elaborateness and complexity, the
connection to troping was never to disappear completely.
It is perhaps this fact of troping as a starting point that may serve
to expiam in part why polyphonic music in the West soon began to lose its improvisational
air Evidently, because of the fixed character of the music on which the added voice or
voices were imposed, there was by necessity a certain rigidity that curbed the character of
the possible improvisation. No alterations could be made in the given plainchant
foundation, for this was determined and irnmutable by its liturgicai nature. The added part,
if considered as a note_against_note technique, thereby also carried a certain degree of
restriction, limit ing the number of notes possible. If we add to this the limitations on the
choice of notes enforced by the classification of intervais as per fect and imperfect
(understanding that God could not be worshipped by imperfect means), the iimits to
improvisation were quite narrow. In the final analysis, one might almost conclude that the
end product was not really improvised at ali, except in the sense that, because of its
restrictions of choice to a minirnurn of possible combinations, it did not need to be written
down.
With the growth of interest on the part of composers in p0- lyphony as an artistic
expression, these rules were gradually reiaxed, but the complications that were developed
later were still subject to considerations other than just those of beauty of sound. The com
pleted work had also to remam within the philosophicai and specula tive framework of
which music was a part. This could not be achieved to the satisfaction of ali parties
concerned uniess tbe composer couid govern the result and achieve a balance between the
two sides, the practical and the speculative. Improvisation alone could not do this, for the
singer was not sufficiently trained to understand the specula tive necessities, nor could
improvisation be called a product of reason except in the most eiementary of senses; ali too
easily the music re sulting from uncontrolled improvisation rnight have sensual beautv of
sound, but be completeiy lacking in ali that wouid deiight tbe mmd. True polyphony in the
highest of senses could not be impro vised; it had to be composed, and by one aware of
both practical and phiiosophical requirements.
Without this attention to speculative impiications, polyphony could have never advanced
beyond its simple beginnings, for its growth depended on more than the technical interest
brought to it by the singers in various monasteries. To assume any position of im portance
within the liturgy and thereby receive the attention of mu sicians, it had to be accepted by
theoiogians and philosophers within
8o THE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONy
TRE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONY 8r
the speculative framework of which rnonophony had for so long been a part. Such an
acceptance was not long in corning, for discus sion of the place of polyphony in rnusic as
part of the quadrivium began in the ninth century, the sarne century that produced the flrst
technical descriptions.
The first philosopher to speak of polyphony as a specuiative ele ment is Johannes Scotus
Erigena, rnaster of the court school under Charles the Bald of France. Erigena’s De
divisione naturae (Concern ing the division of nature) from about 876 not only gives a
sketchy description of organum as a technique, but also rernarks that poly phony suggests
the otherwise inexpressibie beauty of the universe. Musical harmony in terrns of polyphony
is thus a representative of cosrnic harmony, the music of the spheres, and musica mundana.
Its beauty is the direct result of the contrast of various proportions in sirnultaneous sounds,
not in consecutive order as in monophony. This beauty, perceptible by reason alone, is, as
always, superior to that which comes from the simple sensual pleasure aroused by the physi
cal impact of the sounds. Evidently, the overali concept sterns from Boethius, not altered
but extended; what is new is the entry of poly phony into the scheme and its assumption of
an irnportant place therein.
This definition of the role of polyphony in speculation as out lined by Erigena was
amplified by later generations of philosophers. The major clarification made by following
writers is the reiationship between monophony and polyphony. With the passing of time
and the growing importance of polyphony as the major musical tech fique, there was more
and more a tendency to regard rnonophony as an introductory branch of music, useful to
teach fundamentais such as intervais and sirnple notation. Polyphony was a second stage, of
greater importance in both musical and philosophicai meanings. The Declaratio musicae
disciplinae (Declaration of the discipline of mu sic) by Ugolino of Orvieto (1375?-1455?)
shows this development clearly; in Book II of this work, Ugolino states that, aithough there
is delight in plainchant or nuda musica (the name itself suggests a classi fication) for both
the ear and the mmd, it is not the sarne high degree as in counterpoint. In monophonic
music, one does not hear the many intervais in proportion as they resound in polyphony, but
only one note after another. Counterpoint aliows the reason to judge those elements that
cannot be found in monophony, consonance and dis
sonance. As a typical viewpoint from the c1os of the Middle Ages md from one of the last
medieval theorists, Ugolino’s reactions sum narize the attitude of the whole period. The
relation to the views of
is clear, for Ugolino’s position is inherent in the work of the
old rnan.
Theoretical sources
The earliest exarnples of notated polyphony that we have appear in a treatise of the tenth
century, the Musica enchiriadis (Musical manual), once supposed to be by Hucbald
(840-930), but now be lieved to be by Roger de Laon and written at Vaienciennes. Two
types of organum are described, the flrst based on the succession of certain flxed intervais,
with or without doubling at the octave, the second, freer in style, where the opening and
closing portions were not restricted to one interval. In performing the first type, the given
plainchant melody or vox principalis is duplicated beiow at the dis tance of either a perfect
fifth or perfect fourth, producing the vox organalis; of importance is the use of intervais in
accord with their place in the speculative scheme, for all other intervais were disso nances
or imperfect. Once these two lines were achieved, either or both could be duplicated an
octave higher, giving composite orga num in three or four voices:
!
It is evident that occasional problems might well arise in such a duplication at a strict
distance, for, unless some kind of alteration by inserted accidentals was made, there would
arise cases where one wouid be obliged to sing a tritone, the augmented fourth or dimin
82 THE BEGINNÍNGS OF POLYPRONY
THE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONY 83
ished fifth, instead of the proper perfect interval; if the vox princi palis, for example, were
to sing d e f, a vox organalis at the fifth below would require G A B, producing the
forbidden tritone, the “devil in music” as it was called by medieval musicians. To avoid
this, the Musica enchiriadis suggests a free organum, with the two voices beginning on the
same tone, rising to the interval of a fourth, then proceeding in parailel motion until near
the end, with a dose on the unison; an even freer type may be used, with an occasional shift
to other intervais within the phrase, depending on the nature of the given plainchant and
what must be done to avoid the tritone:
!
In the example given above, the difficulties of placing a consecu tive series of perfect
fourths below the vox principalis are apparent, for the tritone would appear at each b. By
usi unisons, seconds, thirds, and flfths, the clash is avoided and, what is more important, a
certain freedom is acquired by the added voice—a freedom, however, more apparent than
real, since choices of intervals to be used are not made at the will of the singer, but are
determined by the inability to follow normal procedures. Free organum is thus to be used
only when strict organum is impossible.
By the beginning of the eleventh century, the relative position of the two styles is no longer
the sarne, for strict parailel organum is of rnuch less interest and of less artistic meaning.
Clear evidence of this shift is found in the Micrologus of Guido of Arezzo, perhaps the
most influential of all medieval treatises, to judge from the number of copies still in
existence, the many areas from which they come, and the long period over which they were
prepared. Within the Micro/o gus, Guido makes it clear that he prefers the free style
because it aliows the use of more different intervais in the completed organum. The perfect
fourth is the primary interval, with the major and minor thirds and the major second as
other possibilities; the perfect fifth and the minor second are not permitted, as they are felt
by Guido to be harsh. Other intervals are not mentioned, perhaps because Guido feels that
there is no question of their possible employment. The
Micrologus defines the four usable intervais as “concords” (con cordia) and the added voice
as “diaphony” (diaphonia).
In his discussion, Guido grades chants by their suitability for the application of an organal
voice, the classification set by the mode of the basic plainchant. The lowest level is held by
chants in Modes III
- and IV, which use the strict manner. Here, the diaphonic voice pro ceeds at a perfect
fourth below the given chant, in the sarne manner as already defined by the Musica
enchiriadis. With Guido’s distaste for the perfect flfth, there is here no mention of organum
at that in terval. The two-voiced organum arrived at by paraliel motion is called
“hard” (durum). As before, the number of voices may be ex— panded by duplication of the
vox organalís at the upper octave; no mention is made of duplication of the vox principalis
in the same way.
Organum in a free style, labeled as “soft” (moi/e), is divided into two types. The simpler is
that made by adding a diaphonic une to melodies in Modes 1 and II. With these chants, one
may use not only the perfect fourth, but also the major second and minor third. The use of
these last two intervais is not common, however, and, for this reason, Guido makes it plain
that he much prefers the more com plicated type, based on melodies in Modes V through
VIII. Organum on chants in these modes frequently includes the major second and major
third, again in combination with the perfect fourth. To Guido, this last type is smoother and
thus best.
A principal feature of Guido’s further discussion is lis series of remarks on the occursus or
“coming together,” found at the end of free organum in the second manner. Here, the dose
of organum is the unison, reached from a penultimate major second or major third (never
minor): the effect of the occursus is that of a cadence, cvi dently considered as a more
satisfying dose than that of the perfect fourth. Certain of Guido’s examples begin with a
unison, proceeding then to the organal interval; we give one sample of the possible re sults:
!
84 TFIE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONY
Although there is no reference within the treatise to the possi bility of voice-crossing,
certain of the examples show its employ ment. One of these uses a diaphonic voice of but
one tone throughout the piece, an F repeated to every note of the given chant, which moves
above and below this drone-like accompaniment. In addition, the last syilable of the chant
is melismatic and one may presume that the F was not reiterated at each note of the
melisma, but held out as a long tone, as though with a fermata above it:
!
Wivh the Micrologus , the shift from improvisation to composition makes its first timid
steps, for there is the realization that uniformity of approach and technique is not artistically
desirabie. Variety is the goa! and one cannot give rules that will completely govern every
pos sibie situation. Guido’s objective in presenting his examples is not that of procedural
prescription, but that of showing a few of the many results that can be achieved within the
application of a few broad artistic principies.
As the last of the eariy theoretical sources on organum, the De musica (Concerning music)
by John of Affligem (sometimes re ferred to as John Cotton) from around 1100 is of
paramount interest. Its author was, for many years, presumed to have been an English
monk; many later theorists refer to him as such. Modern research has indicated he was
probably Flemish in origin, working in a monastery at Affligem. While John’s discussion of
organum is not extensive, constituting one chapter of 23 within the De musica, it is of
impor tance in showing the further development of free organum and the decline of the
strict styie; indeed, John does not even mention this variety, suggesting that it had long
been regarded as of little signifi cance and not worthy of discussion.
The most valuable section of John’s description of organum is that insisting on the superior
place of contrary motion between the two voices. Parailel motion may exist, but the variety
of intervals achieved by contrary motion is to be preferred. Cadences may be made at either
the unison or the octave, the choice depending on the
1
THE BEGINNJNGS OF POLYPHONY 85
nature of the plainchant, that is, whether it doses with an ascending or descending une;
unison doses are preferablè where possible. He also suggests that the organizing voice may,
on occasion, sing two or three notes to one note of the given melody; no examples of this
technique are given. There are no specific recommendations or direc tions within the
discussion, the emphasis falling more on general prin cipies. Only one short exampie
appears, as a suggested approach and no more, with no implication that this particular
excerpt is more than but one solution of many:
!
Analysis of John’s example shows the increased liberty of choice since Guido. Here, one
sees all those intervais previously mentioned in the Micrologus—the second, third, and
fourth—but the perfect flfth and minor seventh appear as well. Significantly the work
begins with a perfect flfth and includes one other, with only one perfect fourth at an
unimportant place. Although John says nothing directly on the subject, it is evident that the
high place of the perfect fourth as a consonance had begun to pass and that the perfect fifth,
originally of inferior piace, had started to replace it as the principal consonance after the
octave. This trend was to lead, by the fifteenth century, to the difficult position that the
perfect fourth theoretically was a con sonance, but, in practice, had all the characteristics of
a dissonance and could not be used without special precautions.
During this early period, up to the eleventh century, the em pioyment of counterpoint within
the liturgy was not completely determined, except that it was to act as an embellishment
and elabora tion of chants for those days to be set apart by some particular spiendor. From
the examples given in the Musica enchiriadis, one may deduce that organum was performed
by the choir as a whole, for these excerpts, and they are no more than that, are nearly ali
based on plainchants liturgically assigned to the choir and, with one
86 THE BEGINNINGS OF POLY?HONY
THE BEGINNINGS OF P0LYP 87
exception, from the Hours. This hypothesis is not destroyed by the information from the
treatises of Guido and John. Most of the ex amples given in the Micrologus are chorai
chants, although, like the Musica enchiriadis, one passage from a Sequence is included. The
single example from the De musica is an Antiphon, a Benedictine chant, in which the whole
chant, both the solo and chorai sections, is in organum.
To this point, ali of our information comes from monastic treatises and the written
examples we have are part of these works. Taken as a group, these treatises suggest the
foliowing conciusions:
1) Organum was originally peculiar to monastery churches, used most often in the chants
more usual there, those of the Hours being of particular importance. 2) W7ithin the
monastery, organum was per formed chorally, with many singers on a part. 3) Organum was
an improvised technique, not needing written form because of the rather limited
possibilities set by both the theoretical rules and the practical difficulties of chorai
improvisation. 4) As seen in the prob_ lems of the perfect fourth and its classification as a
consonance, speculative theory had begun to find opposition in the face of prac tical
experience.
Practical sources
With the later eleventh century, practical musical sources— manuscripts containing
cornposed organum—began to appear, prin cipally from France and England. The contents
of these volumes, together with later theoretical treatises, indicate that the era of com posed
organum had begun and that the place of polyphony within the liturgy was no longer to be
restricted to primarily monastic chants. Most of our sources now show greater ties to the
cathedral than to the monastery and indicate that the great innovations in polyphonic
technique no longer stem from the cloister, but from choir schools attached to public
churches. Even the theoreticai works show something of this, for, although many continue
to be produced by regular clergy, more and more of them come from outside these centers;
of these, one describing twelfth-century practice is written in French, irnplying strongly the
new atmosphere. If written for the usual audience of preceding times, it would have been in
Latin by necessity.
The major changes, in the function of polyphony, that carne with the eieventh century are
tied to two neiv developrnents. The first of these is the change from a chorai to a soloistic
repertoire. The insertion of counterpoint within the liturgy is now iimited to those passages
prescribed for performance by a cantor, not those for the
- choir. No chant was thus completely set in organurn, choral plain— chant now alternating
with polyphony. In addition, when counter point was added to solo sections of the chant, by
its very nature it continued to be performed by soloists, thereby retaining the soloist choir
dichotomy originally in liturgical monophony. The restriction of polyphony to solo sections
does not rest alone on the liturgical shape of the music because, whether improvised or
composed, the new organum was of such technical difficuity that it required greater skill
and training. The average choir member was not able to cope with the new developments.
The soioists, on the other hand, were specially selected and rnusically educated products of
the schola cantorum; it was for them that many of the treatises of the time werc prepared,
treatises emphasizing the new techniques to the det riment of ti-te older speculative
elements.
J ust as certain poets and musicians of the eleventh and twelfth centuries had used the
Alieluia as the springboard for their own ex tensions, so did composers of the sarne period
begin their experiments with the new organum in the sarne way. In the eleventh century, it
was already the custom at Chartres to use organum in the Aileluia chants for Epiphany,
Easter Day, the week following Easter, the Assumption, the Feast of St. Augustine, and the
Feast of St. Martin; ali these days were of sufllcient importance to require polyphony as a
distinguishing feature. Thirteen of these eieventh_century Alleluia settings were inserted
into two ninth_century manuscripts at Chartres, with five in notation sufficiently clear to be
deciphered today. We give here the opening of the Verse to the Alleluia for Easter (LU,
786):
!
88 THE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPJ-JONY
The extreme freedom used by the composer in his choice of in tervais is immediately
apparent. Not only are ali the previousiy mentioned intervais employed, but there is even a
major sixth on the penultimate note. The perfect fourth is still a preferred interval, but there
is also a surprising succession of three thirds that come where one might have more
properly expected fourths. The use of a caden tiai unison or octave at the end of each word
is not to be overlooked, nor is the beginning of each on a perfect fourth. Finaily, the added
voice should be sung through separately. If this is done, it becornes clear that the
composer’s goal was not one of providing a secondary musical une against which to set off
the beauty of the given chant. His hope was rather to provide a second melody of the sarne
quality as the vox principalis, of the sarne artistic meaning as the fundamental chant.
Contrary motion, parailel motion, free choice of intervais, clear cadences—ali have entered
into the achievement of this goa!.
The largest source of eleventh_century organum is one of the two manuscripts lcnown
collectively as the Winchester Tropers, con taining over 150 two-voice compositions.
Unfortunately, the nota tion is at present undecipherable and little can be said specifically
about the technique employed, except that there is evidence of cross ing voices and
contrary motion. In general, however, the vox princi palis is below the vox organalis, a
position that it occupied henceforth. With this change of position, the ornamenting voice
takes on an irnportance that indicates something of the place of the new or ganurn; the
process that we see already beginning in the Chartres manuscript, the raising of the added
une from a position of support to one of equality, is later carried forward to a new point of
depar_ ture, wherein this new material will becorne of greater artistic inter est than the
given chant on which it is superimposed. While this development is still embryonic in the
Winchester Tropers and not clear because of notational difficulties, it is a first step in the
chain of events that led to the magnificent achievements of the thirteenth century, the
overfulfillment of the liturgical function by the dernands of artistic expression and the
submergence of functional plainchant under its contrapuntal superstructure.
In spite of the English provenance of the Winchester Tropers, the basic source of the
organum style is probably French, from the North, possibly Fleury. The monophonic
repertoire within the sources reflects a strong influence of that center and it is known that
1
THE BEGINNINGs OF POLYPHONY 89
connections between England and the Continent were quite dose; William the Conqueror
had requested the aid of French monks in the reform of monastic music and, in at least one
case, brought over a
1; French monk to take charge of an English monastery, that at Glaston bury The organal
repertolre is perhaps not ali French, but, rn view of the origins of the monophonic material,
it seems logical to assume that the rnodels for its creation came from France; a later source,
a table of contents of a now Iost manuscript of the twelfth century, names a W [ of W as a
composer of organum, mdi cating the growth of a native production, not imported.
The contents of the organal sections show clearly the effort to provide material for the
general service of the most important days, Christmas, Easter, and Epiphany, among others.
Twelve Kyries and eight Glorias, ali troped, are set, indicating a turn to the Ordinary of the
Mass, although there are no organa to either the Sanctus or Ag nus; the insecure liturgical
place of the Credo accounts for its non inclusion. The largest part of the coilection is the 73
Alleluia-Tract settings, covering the liturgical year, followed in number by 51
Responsories; other elements include the Invitatory (3), processional Antiphon (3),
Sequence (12), and Easter Introit Trope from the eariy Liturgical Drama (3). Evidently, the
sarne urge that led to a systematic provision of rnonophony in the early Church has been at
work here, but now with the use of polyphony; though the results
are incomplete, the pian is clear.
In the late eleventh and eariy twelfth centuries, the major role in the development or
organum belongs to the monastery of St. Martial at Limoges, a center aiready mentioned in
our discussion of the bis [ of the troubadour movement. Under a succession of gifted ah
bots, St. Martial became a leading artistic center in aimost every area including poetry, flne
arts, and music; at the beginning of the twelth century, its library was the second largest of
any monastery in France.
Among the twenty-three volumes known coilectively as the St. Martial Tropers, there are
four manuscripts, three in Paris and one in London, containing organa. These include 76
polyphonic items in all, with some duplications from one source to another. As in the Win
chester Tropers, one manuscript, the oldest and from the late eleventh century, presents its
five organa in a notational guise that cannot allow transcription into modern form with
complete security. The
1
90 THE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONY
notation used in the other three, from the middle tweifth century, is more certain, although
there are difficulties in understanding the rela tions between groups of notes occurring
simultaneously in the given melody and its added une; even though many scholars have
assurned a rhythmic performance like that in secular melodies of the sarne time, the
notation itself contains no indications of such a possibility.
The repertoire within these four manuscripts, both rnonophonic and poiyphonic, shows the
high piace given to what we have labeied accretions to the liturgy. There is heavy emphasis
on the Sequence, troped parts of the Mass Ordinary (the Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus), as
well as tropings of the Proper (the Gradual and Episties). Con ductus makes up a large part
of the repertoire, not only some com— posed as processionals, but also others written for
special occasions, such as a New Year’s greeting of the choir to its cantor. There is even a
conductus of censure, a condemnation of evil custorns of the day, a rarity ar the time. The
liturgical drama is not overlooked, and there are numerous tropes on the Benedicamus
Domino, as weli as a handful of items that also appear in the Cãi’mina Burana. While not
ali these types are found in the polyphonic works, the organa reflect this emphasis on the
artistic derivations of the liturgy; only one item, a Benedicamus, appears in a pure form,
without trope.
The major contribution of the School of St. Martial is the solu tion of the problem of
organal counterpoint, setting up the basis on which the future developrnent of poiyphonic
techniques was to build. We have aiready noted John of Affligem’s reference to the
possibility of using two or three notes in the vox organalis to one in the vox principalis.
Composers of St. Martial, amplifying this simple pro cedure, began to take the given chant
and stretch its length many tirnes, while adding a duplum, the now customary name for the
newly composed voice, of many notes above it; melismata of twenty notes above a held
tone are not uncommon. This new method, re ferred to as organum style by the theorists of
the time, amounts to a suppression of the musical nature of the original piainchant in favor
of the artistic possibilities inherent in the new style of duplum. The term now used for the
given chant foundation reflects this new atti tude, for it is no longer called the vox
principalis, but the tenor, its name deriving from “tenere” (“to hold out”); its designation is
no longer taken from its liturgical place, but is based on its artistic and technical function.
In its new situation, ir is not the principal voice, for that position is now held by the added
voice or voices.
Together with organum style, the older note-against-note technique, now known as
discantus style, continued. Unlike the ap proach found in the Chartres rnanuscript, where
the goal was to imi tate the characteristics of chant in the added voice, the discantus of St.
Martial followed the lead of organum style in differentiating be tween the tenor and the
discantus; it is guided more by the technical need for voice leading, with consonances at
appropriate points. In addition, it was nor always necessary to maintain a strict
note_against_ note relation. Short units of two and three notes may be introduced into the
duplum against one in the tenor, thus providing artistic variety. Both styles, organum and
discantus, may appear in the sarne work, most frequently in the troped Benedicamus chants.
Conduc tus, because of its essentially syllabic character, is normally set in discantus style.
We append here two short examples of the styles, the flrst in organum, the second in
elaborated discantus.
!
Whether or not the practices of St. Martial were of great influ ence on the fiowering of
polyphony at Notre Darne in Paris during the foliowing century is a still unsolved problem.
Even though there are many evidences of common approach, it is nor possible to say
definitely that the great School of Notre Dame is a direct outgrowth of that of St. Martial;
no work in the St. Martial repertoire appears in that of Notre Dame. A more probable
influence of St. Martial is that on Spain and, indirectly, on England.
The Spanish relationship to St. Martial is suggested by the Codex
92 THE BEGINNINGS OF POLYPHONY
Calixtinus from Santiago de Composteila, a manuscript from around 1140 containing
twenty organa in addition to many monophonic works. It is a product of the high place of
Compostelia as a center for pilgrimage; it was believed that St. Jarnes the Apostie had died
there and bis reputed bones were exposed for veneration within the Ca thedral. Visitors
from ali over Europe, particularly from France, were numerous. This is reflected in the
manuscript, for many pieces are prefaced by the names of French ecciesiastical dignitaries,
im plying that these men may well have been the composers; in ali probability, the names
were added later for purposes of prestige and no more. The style of the polyphonic pieces is
clearly relatabie to the practices of St. Martial, as is the liturgical repertoire generaily. The
most interesting feature of the manuscript is the presence of what is believed to be the
oldest piece of real three-voice organum as distinguished from that achieved by voice
duplication; it is, typically enough, a troped Benedicamus.
In view of the presence of many English pilgrims at Composteila, one may presume that the
nine organa found in a twelfth-century source now in Carnbridge were derived through
Spanish contact, if not directly. In style they follow the continental model closely, using the
techniques developed by St. Martial. The repertoire is much the sarne, relying heavily upon
various troped elements and conductus.
In summary, the latter part of the twelfth century saw the estab lishrnent of polyphony as a
major force within the music of the church. WThile its rhythrnic elements were not yet
clearly defined—a task to be taken up by the musicians of Paris and, in particular, Notre
Darne—the basic understanding of the relation of the newly composed material to its
plainchant foundation had been firmly es tablished. A definition of style had been made and
an exploration of its artistic possibilities had been started. There had also been a final
definition of polyphony as a soloistic art, relying on the trained mu sician and educated
specialist. Most important, however, is the new place of plainchant, no longer the center of
musical interest, but solely the starting point for the new contrapuntal structures.
To some extent, polyphony as we see it in the late twelfth cen tury has begun its attack
upon the liturgical character of music, for, with its introduction and its elaboration, the
basic function of piam chant has been altered. It might be overstatement to say that poly
phony had destroyed the function of music within the church, the
dose relationship among the text, the liturgical act, and the music, but it may be suggested
that the process had begun. While the ostensible purpose for the introduction of organum
had been for the enhance ment of the services, it is evident that composers were already
begin ning to go far beyond this point, driven on by their artistic urge for expression. While
the Church did not then recognize the danger, en couraging the new music in every way, it
was not to be long until complaints were registered over what inteliigent ecclesiastics could
see was a usurpation. By the end of the thirteenth century, the con .sequences of what had
been developed by St. Martial would be understood as the dangers to liturgy that they were.
Bibliography
Most of the sources connected with the eariy history of polyphony have been rnentioned
previously. Unfortunately for the average reader, most research in this area has been done
by German scholars, men such as Jacques Handschin and Friedrich Ludwig, whose works
have not been transiated into English. For the student who can read German, the best
survey is that given by Ludwig in Guido Adler’s Handbuch der Musik geschichte (Berlin:
Max Hesses Verlag, 1930). There is also a great deal of information in Frank Li. Harrison,
Music in Medieval Britain (Lon don: Routiedge and Kegan Paul, 1958), aithough the
approach is natu rally limited geographically.
1
6
The School of Notre Dame
T the middle of the twelfth century, the history of polyphony is difficult to trace with any
real continuity. No one arca can be singled out as that of primary leadership and guidance,
for we have no evidence of any sequence of interrelationships in polyphony’s development
and spread through Europe. Those who describe early polyphony, the theorists, come from
ali parts of the continent and are concerned with local practice. The purely musical sources,
those including compositions, seem not to have been known outside the circumscribed arca
for which they were originally prepared. In the case of St. Martial, a degree of influence on
Spain and England has been suggested, but there is no secure evidence except on stylistic
94
THE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME 95
grounds; there is no bit of repertoire that appears in sources coming from other places,
either at the sarne time or later. Polyphony thus appears to have grown in various centers
and at various times, with out cross from one locaiity to another. Solutions to
musical and artistic problems posed by organum were resolved in restricted arcas; they do
not seem to have been carried over into the rnusic of other centers. To this point, polyphony
can be considered as but a provincial art and little more.
With the mid-twelfth century, the first truly universal musical leadership makes its
appearance. The risc of a school of composition centering in Paris and, in particular, at the
Cathedral of Notre Dame is the beginning of the henceforth normal domination of musical
style and technique by representatives of one arca. Not only did the procedures, as worked
out by musicians from this center, become the standard for those from others, but their
specific works were
1 copied again and again into non-Parjsian sources, ranging to points
1 as distant as Scotland and Spain. A hundred years after their composi
tion certain works were still part of a living repertoire, for they were
still being copied for performance purposes.
Why this should have come about may be, in part, expiained bv the position of Paris itself
during the latter haif of the twelfth and
early thjrteenth centuries. As an educational center, Paris then had no equal, for the
University of Paris, although recognized only around 1173, had grown to a position of
scholastic preêminence. Such teach ers as St. Bernard of Clairvaux (1090-1153), Peter
Abelard (1079- 1142), John of Salisbury (d. 1180) and Peter Lombard (d. 1163) had early
attracted the best minds of ali Europe; a contemporary
marked, “The Italians have the Papacy, the Germans the Empire; the French have
Education.” The brilliance of the University alone has been enough to justify the naming of
this period by some historians as the “Renaissance” of the twelfth century.
The University, however, was not ali that made Paris a leading city, for the political
situation in France had been stabilized under Louis VI (1081-1137) and Louis VII
(1119-1180). With the able counsel of Suger (1081?-115i), the Abbot of St. Denis, both
Kings were able to concentrate power in their own hands and to make Paris, their capital,
the chief city of France. It was during their reigns that the major Gothic monuments of
Paris were started; the Church of St. Denis (begun 1136) and the new Cathedral of Notre
Dame
6
96 THE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME
TI SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME 97
(begun 1163) are but two of the great achievements. With Philippe Augustus (1165-1223),
the advances made under the two earlier Kings were continued. During bis rule, Paris
became the cultural center of ali Europe, attracting students and visitors from ali parts of
the continent.
It was in this climate that the musical advances made by Notre Dame musicians began.
There had long been a choir school attached to the Cathedral; Peter Lombard, while Bishop
of Paris, had done much to support it and to make it an integral part of the University. John
of Salisbury, from bis own account, attended performances of the choir at Notre Dame and,
to judge by bis description, heard it in the polyphony for which it was to become famous.
Other visitors also report on it and make it evident that it was a major attraction of the city.
With this school as a model, other churches of Paris began to emulate Notre Dame, so that,
by the beginning of the thirteenth century, what we now cail the Notre Darne repertoire is,
in reality, that of the Cathedral and many other churches as well; a better term for the period
might well be that of the School of Ile-de-France, al though it does not suggest the primacy
of Notre Dame as a generat ing force.
The notation of rhythm
In previous discussion of both monophony and polyphony, the peculiar difficuities over the
nature and employment of rhythm have been mentioned. WThile we may be fairly certain
that some form of rhythmic differentiation between notes existed in performance, the
notation of the music itself offers no clear indications what was done. The rhythmic
transcriptions that have been made have, in general, been based on the nature of the text or
upon the application of cer tain basic rhythmic patterns to the notes; the results cannot be
guar anteed. Even in those cases where a rhythmic interpretation may be founded on some
few notational variations, as in certain St. Martial works, there are never enough of them to
make the results positive.
It is in this area that Notre Dame made one of its major technical contributions, a system
whereby the performer would have a guide to the rhythmic characteristics of a composition.
This system, whose foundations were laid by Leonin, the first great Notre Dame com-
L poser and master of its choir around 1160, is based on a set of six basic rhythmic patterns,
known as the rhythmic modes. These pat terns, indicated by the notation, were to be applied
by the performer in a more or less fixed manner to the melody. In essence, the rhyth mic
modes are various arrangements of iong and short values cor responding to various poetic
meters; indeed, it is now believed that the major inspiration for this method was derived by
Leonin from his study of St. Augustine’s De musica, a treatise on metrics. These six
patterns of longae and breves (the Latin terms for long and short notes) follow:
!
The performer’s understanding of the proper pattern to be ap plied was gained from
inspection of how the notes had been grouped in the notation. Plainchanr had already long
used figures that placed into one shape two or more notes, but had normally used these with
out great plan or purpose, except to indicate, in a general way, those groups to be sung to
the same syllable. Leonin, on the other hand, employed these groups, now called ligatures,
to direct the performer to the correct rhythmic mode. If, for exampie, the particular melody
was to be performed in the firsi mode, tbe ligatures were written in such a way to give a
grouped pattern of a three-note ligature at the beginning followed by a series of twos;
second mode was indicated by tbe reverse, i.e., a series of two-note ligatures closed by a
tbree. The other modes also had their own individual patterns, not like each other, so that
identification would, as much as possible, be certain. To show the system on its simplest
levei, we give a short phrase in the first rhythmic mode, foflowed by its transcription into
modern nota tion (the brackets above the notes in transcription indicate the origi nal ligature
pattern):
!
Variations within the individual patterns could be made in vari ous ways, by adding an extra
note to a ligature, by taking the notes of ligatures and writing them as separate or simple
notes (simplices), or by adding a tail up or down (plica: indicated in transcription by a slash
through the stem of the note) to a simplex or to the last note of a ligature; in this way, the
various modes might be provided with notes longer than normally found (extensio modi) or
with short notes gotten by dividing a normal note into two smaller parts (fractio modi). The
foliowing phrase, with transcription, illustrates the vari ety possible within the first mode;
similar variety is obtainable in the other five:
!
In addition, the composer was not limited to one rhythmic mode throughout a composition,
for shifts from one to another were possi. ble, provided that a rest of some kind inte A piece
might be gin in the flrst mode, and, at the conclusion of a section, marked by the presence
of a rest, begin anew in second mode.
Our knowledge of the workings of this system is, like that for earlier practice, based mainly
on the writings of various theorists who describe more or less clearly the rnethods used.
One of the most usefui volumes for the study of modal notation and later notation as well is
a compendium prepared by a Bohemian priest, Jerome of Moravia, around 1272. Jerome
seems to have been a teacher in the Dominican cloister of St. Jacques in Paris, working
within the frarne work of the University. His compilation is of particular value, show ing
not only what were the contents of a typical medieval university course in music, but also
giving in chronological order four treatises hy other authors—treatises that, by their
contents, give an overail history of the advances made and techniques of notation used at
vari OUS periods. The earliest of the four describes practices of the late twelfth ccntury; ‘1e
latest, procedures from Jerome’s own times.
Englishman around 1280. From interna! evidence, he was a student at the University of
Paris and was interested not only in the theory of music, but a!so in its practice. It is
through information given by him that we know something of the achievernents of Leonin;
no other sources name him or discuss his worlc. This Eng!ish student is usual!y referred to
as Anonyrnous IV, for his treatise was first printed in a modern version around the mid-
nineteenth century by the French scholar, Edmond de Coussemaker, as the fourth in a series
of anony mous treatises.
Sources
In comparison with the paucity of musica! sources for the early history of polyphony, that
for the era using modal notation is well supp!ied. In addition to three large sources, there
are many smaller ones, all containing items from the great repertoire developed by the early
School of Notre Dame and indicating by their re!iance upon that repertoire the irnmense
influence spreading out from Paris. The o!dest of the three major sources in its versions and
notation is that found today in Wo!fenbütte! at the Herzogliche Bibliothek under the ca!l
number 677. A!though probab!y prepared in St. Andrews, Scot!and, in the fourteenth
century, it is that which seems c!osest to Leonin and bis time, in spite of its cornparative!y
late date; in the literature it is referred to as W’. A second manuscript, from France of the
thirteenth or fourteenth centuries, is a!so preserved in the sarne library; its cal! nurnber is
1206 and it is given the short reference 1 The third major source is a French manuscript in
Florence, Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana, P!uteus 29.1, from the end of the thirteenth
century; its siglum is F. Ai! three are fairly extensive and include, in addition to the material
in modal notation, much rnusic from a later date, when notational methods had begun to
change.
Of the subsidiary manuscripts, the rnost inclusive is that found today in Madrid, Biblioteca
Nacional, with the cali number 20468 and reference as Ma; it is of Spanish provenance and
is from the fourteenth century. Other important sources are preserved in ii-
A second source of value is a treatise written by an anonymous
100 THE SC OF N0TRE DAME
THE SCHOOL 0F NOTRE DAME 101
braries in Munich, London, and Paris, but, while of value in the study of the period, their
contents are generaily not as wide in either number or variety as those of the three
manuscripts cited flrst.
The work of Leonin
In writing of the musical situation at Paris, Anonymous IV, the English student, states that
“. . . And note that Master Leonin
was the best composer of organa, a man who composed a great book (Magnus Liber) of
organum based on the Graduale and Antiphonale, for the enlargement of the divine
service. . . .“ ‘Within this state ment lies the key to Leonin’s greatness, for it was he who
began the systematic expansion of the new organum into the whole of the repertoire. In its
reconstructed fprm, based on the three main manu scripts and what is probably the oldest
version, the Magnus Liber includes 13 pieces for the Hours and 33 works for the Mass.
Both sections begin with works for Christmas and continue into the li turgical year,
providing not only items for the major feast days but also works for various other
occasions. The emphasis in the material for the Hours is placed on various Processional
Responsories, while that in the Mass stresses the Gradual and Alleluia, the two chants
already singled out as especially suitable for polyphonic treatment by their soloistic
character.
Ali of the works in the Magnus Liber are for two voices and re fiect the division into the
two styles previously described, organum and discantus. Only those portions of the chant
liturgically designed for solo performance by the cantor are set polyphonically; the chorai
parts are to be sung in plainchant as before. Thus, these worlcs begin with a polyphonic
movement and are then interrupted by the piam chant areas, to return again to polyphony
wherever a solo section begins again. The commencement of each poiyphonic section is in
or ganum style, with the tenor held out under a long melismatie fiourish by the dupium; this
last, in the works of Leonin, is always in the first rhythmic mode, for he used no other in
the dupla of his works. Within the body of the organum, there are contrasting sections in
discantus style, most often corresponding to those places where the
basic plainchant is melismatic. Here, the duplum does not fali into the classification of
discantus in the manner defined by St. Martial, that is, with note against note; instead, it
continues its elaborations around the first mode, while the tenor proceeds in a series of
notes of equal rhythmic value, in units occupying one or two beats of the basic pulse.
It is in this practice that Leonin added a new way of defi.ning organum and discantus, now
not in terms of their number of notes against fi tenor, but in terms of the rhythmic structure
of the tenor.
For Leonin, organum style is that in which the tenor is unmeasured, that is, without a fixed
length and heid to a point of agreement in its dose with the ornamented duplum. Discantus
style, on the other hand, is that where the tenor is measured, that is, where its note lengths
may be defined in small rhythmic units. In both cases, the duplum is the sarne, written
basically in the first rhythrnic mode and proceeding in this manner throughout the work. To
make the coincidence of tenor and duplum clear, the music within the sources is notated in
score, with the duplum above the tenor; in this way, the performers
have little difficulty making the correspondence of the two voices.
Within the sections or clausulae of organa, Leonin sets off major cadential points by
coming to rest on either the octave, unison, or
perfect fifth. There are also points of lesser cadenee or places where both voices have
simultaneous rests. In these places, other intervais É may appear, the perfect fourth or the
major third, for exampie; these [ are, however, quite rare, for Leonin maintains the primacy
of the three perfect intervals mentioned as those best for points of rest. Beginnings of
organa are often ornamented with an accented ap F poggiatura from a major or minor
seventh leading into the octave; this type of opening acts as a fiourish to catch attention.
Certain
gana also see this used at internal cadences, as a way of emphasis. As
to beginnings after cadences, Leonin is not as strict in his choice of intervals as at the
cadences proper; the perfect fourth appears fre quently here, together with the third and
sixth, this last normally as an accented appoggiatura into the fifth.
Ali of these points may be seen in the given example, the opening of the Verse, “Audi
filia,” from the Gradual, “Propter veritatem,” for August 15, the Assumption of the Biessed
Virgin Mary:
!
With Leonin’s work, the process of elimination of the melodic function of the tenor is
complete. With its arrangement of voices and the rhythmically organized character of the
duplum, Leonin’s or— ganum has obscured the original purpose of the chant to such a
point that it is now important only as a starting point for the addition of the second voice.
By its subservience to the rhythrnic mode, the duplum has also made clean its break with
the past, for it is clear that Leonin’s goa is far different from that of the composer of the
earlier works in the Chartres manuscript; there is no desire to irnitate the outlines of chant
in the added duplum. Indeed, inspection of many organa from the Magnus Liber shows
again and again the presence of melodic formuiae that suggest certain musical concepts
peculiar to this kind of musical work and without relation to others; many of
TEIE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME 103
rhese melodic patterns are triadic, something not heard in chant nielodies.
Later composers added to the Magnus Liber, almost doubling it in size. Their additions can
usuaily be identified by the presence of modes other than the first, as well as by more
highiy organized tenor patterns. As with Leonin, their aim was the introduction of poiyph
ony into those services of higher írnportance and the provision of organa for the fui!
liturgical year. In spite of the developments that carne later, the original pIan was Leonin’s
and the inspiration was his; he rnust be considered one of the great musical minds of ali
time.
The work of Perotjn
The quotation from Anonyrnous IV given above continues:
“And it [ Magnus Liber] was in use up to the time of Perotin the Great, who abbreviated it
and made many better clausulae or points [ in counterpoint], since he was the best
composer of dis cantus and better than Leonjn was. . . .“ From these remarks, it is clear that
one of Perotin’s major accomplishments was the revision of Leonin’s work, substituting
clausulae in discantus style for those originaliy written in organum style or shortening older
sections in discantus by providing newer ones.
That there was a need for this kind of curtailrnent is obvious, since the length of the original
chant, by its performance in the ex tended values required in organum style, had become
intolerably iong. Although the chants set had been those of primarily musical interest,
without associated liturgical acts, there was evidentiy a feel ing that, by their now increased
length, a certain liturgical balance had been disturbed and that equilibrium could only be
restored by reducing the time consumed. There was no question of removing polyphony, by
now well established and approved; there could be no possibility of cutting the lerigth of
the basic chant by remova! of some of its notes. The problem was then one of condensation
of the duplum by pruning it of excessive elaboration.
These substitute clausuiae are found in abundance in ali three of our main sources, where
they are identified by the words or syilabies of the material they are designed to repIace.
For example, WP cludes four of these substitute clausulae with the one syllable, “Go.”
.IM - - - -.
TFIE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME 105
These were composed to replace rnusic in the organum, “Benedicta. Virgo dei genitrix.”
Why so many substitute clausuiae have been provided for chants that would be, because of
their place in the Proper, performed but once a year has not yet been clarified; F alone
contains over 450 of these substitutes, not only in discantus style but also in recornposed
organum, enough to provide alternatives for each basic organum of the Magnus Liber many
times over.
As a sample of the process, we give the beginning of a substitute clausula for “Filia,” to be
used as a replacernent within the organum of the previous example; this particular clausula
is from W7’, where it is the second of two for the sarne piece:
!
Perotin’s most irnportant development is the extension of the use of rhythmic modes within
the tenor. In the work of Leonin, dis cantus sections find the tenor normally in fifth mode;
Perotin uses all six rnodes. Within the duplum, Leonin had used only the first mode; here
too, Perotin employs ali six. The result of Perotin’s innovations within the clausula is that
both voices are now of rhythmic interest and that there is what we might call rhythmic
counterpoint. Just as variety had been previously achieved by the opposition of one voice,
the duplurn, moving somewhat rapidly against longer values in the tenor, so now additional
variety could be gained through the applica tion of duplum techniques to the tenor.
Although, if we are to take the word of Anonymous IV, the eventual goal was the
abbreviation of organurn, Perotin and bis foi lowers found that excessive shortening by the
application of shorter rhythmic patterns did not allow sufficient scope for musical deveiop
ment. Thus, in many substitute clausuiae, there is repetition of the tenor, either literally or
in new patterns. The “Filia” clausula, whose beginning is given above, portrays this, for,
after the whole chant section on which the clausula is based is given once in the three-note
pattern shown, it is repeated in a six-note. scherne; the variety achieved by this altered
repetition is evident:
!
Together with stylistic expansion of two-voice organa through substitution and
recornposition within the work of Leonin, Perotin enlarged the framework of organa by
adding one or two voices to the contrapuntal web. His two four-voice organa, “Viderunt,”
the Gradual for Christmas, and “Sederunt,” that for the feast of St. Stephen (December 26),
were singled out for special notice by Anonymous IV; “Viderunt” appears in both W and F
as the open ing work, with “Sederunt” imrnediately foliowing, indicating their importance
to rnedieval rnusicians. Both works can be dated with some degree of acduracy, for edicts
of Bishop Eude de Sully of Notre Dame indicate that “Viderunt” is of 1198 and “Sederunt”
is of the following year. Some edicts specify the use of three- and four voice organa in
special piaces, defining the prirnary locales as the Responsories and Benedicarnus in
Vespers, together with the Gradual and Alieluja in the Mass. Certain others include Matins
as suitable for polyphony, with particular feasts singled out for special attention. So far as
four-voice organa are concerned, the plan was never completed, for, in addition to the two
works of Perotin, only one other has sur vived, “Mors,” from the Aiieluia for the Fourth
Sunday after Easter.
The style of Perotin’s four- and three-voice organa is specifically
discussed at some length and with approval by Johannes de Garlandia (1195?-1272?),
whose treatise is one of those inciuded in the com pendium prepared by Jerome of Moravia.
The rules for the or namenting (cobres) of the upper voices are three in number,
corresponding roughly to the rules for the introduction of ornaments into rhetoric; this is
not surprising, for Johannes was a grammarian at the University of Paris. The first manner
is the repetition of an initial tone through a fifth or through a sequential pattern; this style is
best used in three- and four-voice organa. The second method is a “flow

ering of the voice” (florificatio vocis), the repeating of single notes within a scalewise
progression; according to Johannes, this kind of ornamentation is used most often in secular
music. The final manner is the exchange of parts, that is, what one voice sings is taken over
by the other; this is employed in almost all kinds of polyphony—or gana, conductus, and
others. All three manners are given in the fol lowing example, taken from those given by
Johannes within bis treatise:
!
VVith these works, it is evident that the function of melody is that of generating a motive,
which then is to be treated as a formula like unit. The equality of the upper voices, their
occupying the sarne range, the repetition of melodic formulae from one voice to the other,
and the added drone of the tenor lead to an overali impression of monotony, yet intoxicating
in the final effect. The composer’s ideal is not the presentation of melody as such, but rather
the em phasis on rhythmic patterns that are supported by melodic move ment; these patterns
are then organized on a large skeleton that can be grasped only by feeling the symmetries
from one group of formu lae to another; the formula-like nature of the upper parts is shown
by the fact that, when the sarne tenor note reappears in a composi tion, the upper voices
often repeat the material originally found with that note. The opening of Perotin’s
“Alleluia-Nativitas” indicates the general style; unfortunately, its length forbids complete
quo tation:
io6
io8 THE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME
!
In addition to Perotin’s work as composer of substitute clausu lae and three- and four-voice
organa, Anonymous IV also cites him as the author of conductus in one, two, and three
voices, giving spe cific tities in each category. As we have jioted earlier, although the
conductus was originally functionally part of the liturgy, its develop ment was such that it
carne to be reflective of the non-liturgical side of clerical activity. In the thirteenth century,
some liturgical conno tation is still to be found, but more and more the emphasis turns to
artistic aspects of the music and to non-liturgical subjects for its poetry. Around the
beginning of the century, conductus became the cleric’s way of commenting on the events
of the day, the death of a king or bishop, the election of a pope, the accession of a king, or
the seizure of a city in war. Conductus was a clerical art, comparable to that of the
troubadour and trouvêre in terms of the music of a de fined social stratum.
The most engaging feature of polyphony, as applied to conduc tus, was the complete
control of the finished product by the creator. Unlike polyphony which was composed for
liturgical purposes, con ductus had no given melody on which to erect a superstructure, a
distinction made clear by all the theorists of the time. The treatise of Franco of Cologne,
also part of Jerome of Moravia’s compilation, describes the process of getting the
foundation: “W wishes to write conductus should first invent the most beautiful melody
that he can: then he should use it like a tenor in making discantus.” There is no possibility
of employing organum style in writing conductus; this
style could only be employed where there was a cantus prius factus, a piece of chant
already present. There is, in cónductus, no contrast between the given material and the
composed additions as in or ganum; allis composed, both foundation melody and overail
structure.
The most elaborate variety of conductus is that in which the composer has set his poetic
text in a through-composed manner, i.e., with each strophe receiving new music and with
non-texted sections acting as contrast. These last, called caudae (tails), may appear at the
beginning, between strophes, and at the end of conductus and can be identified by their lack
of poetry below the music; while it may be that these caudae were performed as
instrumental interludes, it is also possible that they were sung, in the manner of a vocalise.
On a lower level, there are many conductus without caudae and with the music repeated for
each succeeding strophe; Anonymous IV suggests that this group was written for the use of
less slcilled singers and is of lower artistic merit.
Both in number and complexity, conductus for two voices stand in a higher position, with
about 130 preserved examples, as against 60 three-voice works. Within the repertoire for
two voices, approxi mately half are through-composed, the rest set strophically. Caudae are
found in all but one of the former group and in two-thirds of the strophic settings. Three-
voice conductus does not show this fre quency of appearance with caudae and the few with
four voices have no caudae. From these facts, it is evident that two-voice conductus with
caudae are the most artistically significant types, the centers of the repertoire, to judge from
the attention given them. Indeed, many three-voice conductus found in W are modernized
in Ma by drop ping the uppermost voice, reducing the texture to two voices.
The quotation given above from Franco of Cologne makes it clear that conductus is subject
to modal rhythm, for in technique it is a branch of discantus style. The syllabic character of
conductus, however, frequently makes it difficult to determine with accuracy exactly which
mode is to be applied and in what way. The problem is caused by the fact that the ligature
patterns that indicate the mode are by necessity brokcn up; the syllabic nature of the poetry
and its setting by one to four notes to the syllable do not allow for an ex tended series of
ligatures. In conductus with caudae, the mode can normally be presumed to be that which is
set by the ligature patterns seen there, although one will always find places where it will be
diffi cult to determine exactly how the pattern is to be applied. For those conductus without
caudae, the only possible guide, not always a safe
THE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME III
one, is the metric pattern of the text. No matter the final resuits within the transcription,
there can be no certainty; this difficuity of indicating accurately the proper rhythmic mode
was to iead to fur ther notational developments to take care of the probiem. We will discuss
this further in speaking of the motet, like the conductus a category based on syilabic
settings.
As an exampie of how the probiem may be solved, as well as a sampie of the style, we
insert here the beginning of one strophe of the conductus, “Gaude virgo virginum,” in
honor of the Blessed Vir gin Mary. The opening section is the cauda, evidently in the first
rhythmic mode; this mode is then applied to the beginning of the strophe, at the point where
the word “In” has been inserted in brackets:
!
Whiie the greater part of the sources of eariy Notre Dame are devoted to the categories
mentioned (organum for Vespers and Matins, the Gradual, and the Alleluia of the Proper of
the Mass, as weli as conductus), certain other forms are also represented, forms already
noticed as important for the accretions to the liturgy. Among these other items, there are
polyphonic Sequences, troped parts of the Ordinary, the Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei, and
a handfui of Offertories. Ali these emphasize the expansion of poiyphony into those areas
originaily explored by musicians working with monoph ony. They indicate the concept that
no part of the liturgy shouid be considered as incapable of poiyphonic elaboration, except
those chants reserved for performance by the choir. By the end of the century, even this
restriction no ionger applied and composers felt free to use polyphony at their own
discretion, without reference to liturgical custom.
The motet
In speaking of the work of Perotin and his immediate successors, we have noted a
concentration of compositionai energies upon the substitute ciausuia, that small form
designed to abbreviate organum by the replacement of organum-style sections by others in
discantus. By their character as separate sections, these clausuiae have complete ness as
musical entities, without dose relation to their liturgicai position except in the tenor’s use of
a liturgicaliy piaced bit of piam chant. From their pientifulness in the sources, we may
properiy as sume that they must have often been performed separateiy and at times not
necessariiy in keeping with their functional role as a por tion of liturgicaliy oriented
organum; if an abbreviating substitute had been ali that was required, there would have
been no real reason to compose more than one clausula for each organum piece needing
shortening. A substitute, if written solely for liturgical purposes, would have been capable
of but one performance each year.
‘Without a text, except that set by the liturgicai tenor, there could be little meaning in
separate performance. To solve this prob_ lem, to give the substitute clausula vaiidity as an
isolated work, com posers of Perotin’s time, at the beginning of the thirteenth century,
turned to a technique already used in a similar situation in the past, the technique of the
trope. Just as words had been added to a pre
112 TIIE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME

TI-TE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME 113
existing melody to produce the trope and Sequence, so now words were added to the
composed polyphonic voices of the substitute clausula to produce the thirteenth_century
motet; the narne is de rived from the French “mot” or “word.” As polyphony had acted as a
musical troping of a given chant, so the motet in its beginnings de veloped as a poetic trope
added to the results of a musical trope; the medieval reverence for reliance on authority is
obvious.
In the eariiest motets, the rpusic of the clausula remained the sarne, while the upper voice
or voices received a Latin text that was a paraphrase or glossing of the meaning of the text
carried by the plainchant tenor, this Iast now performed instrurnentally. A second stage saw
the rise of the double and triple rnotets, narned from the number of differing texts in the
upper two or three voices; these too were in Latin and explained the meaning of the tenor’s
text. In a third stage, the language shifted to French and lost its paraphrase quaiity, ridding
itself of any reference to the tenor. In ali of these eariiest rnotets, the rnusic of the original
clausula acted as the basic structure for poetic elaboration, just as the Jubilus had served the
flrst Sequences.
The final developrnent within the motet of Perotin’s time was the taking over of a clausula
for two voices, the troping of the duplum (now called the motetus) and the adding of a
newly com posed third voice in the sarne musical style. These French doubie motets mark
the change from an originaiiy secondary place as troped clausulae to a new position as
independent forms, to be de veloped without reference to the liturgical background from
which they carne. With the possibilities opened by the entry of free composi tion into the
motet, the interest in organa and conductus, 50 strong in the late twelfth century, declined
rapidly; after Perotin no new worlcs were added to the repertoire of these forms, the old
ones suf ficing for ali iiturgical needs. Indeed, it was not long until the motet was
recognized as a superior category, of particular interest for the educated; although it grew,
like conductus, out of clerical circles, it soon becarne the major musical delight of courtly
society.
With the establishment of the motet as a distinct category, com posers rnoved on to the
problem of giving it a styiistic basis that would rid it of its ties to the clausuia. To the
middle of the century, the composed French and Latin double motets carried most of the
innovations, with the major effort given toward individuaiization of
the three voices, one from the other. The solution finally achieved was based on rhythmic
differentiation, giving the tenor a slow move ment, the rnotetus a faster one and the triplum
the fastest. The rhythmic modes were not discarded, however, for ali three voices re mained
subject to thern. The technique can be seen in the foliowing example, the opening of the
Latin double motet, “O Maria virgo—O Maria maris stelia—In veritate,” based on the
version found in the La Ciayette manuscript; this source contains a repertoire dating from
the second quarter of the century:
!
The voices here ciearly contrast one against the other, the tenor in flfth mode, the motetus
in first and the triplum in sixth. The example also indicates a change in performance
practice, that the speed of a piece is no longer dependent upon the longa as the metric

unit, but is now turning to the brevis as the note valúe determining the pulse. Our
transcription has, therefore, been written with a longa of three breves notated as a dotted
haif, not the dotted quarter of our earlier examples. Further, another value has been added,
the semi brevis, equalling one-half or one-third of the brevis (measure 9 of the triplum),
here shown as an eighth.
In speaking of conductus, we have already noted the difficulties encountered in the
understanding of which rhythmic mode was to be applied in those works without caudae.
Like conductus, the motetus and triplum of the motet gave no chance for the performer to
recog nize the proper mode easily, for there were almost no ligatures left in these voices; in
Example 6-10, there are but four in the triplum and but six in the motetus of the entire
piece, none of thern of great use in defining the rhythrnic mode. Only the tenor, because of
its melis matic character, could preserve a ligature pattern, and this, because of its siower
nature, was usually confined to the fifth mode; a liga ture pattern was used for convenience
in writing, not always for definition of the mode. As long as the motet had been but a
troped clausula, reference to the original or memory of its character would give clues. With
newly composed works, this procedure was mani festly impossible; the correct mode would
have to be drawn from the music as it was notated.
In addition, the problem became more pressing because, to con serve space, the writing of a
composition in score format was soon dropped. If written in score, it was possible to assure
agreement of the voices, even if the mode were misinterpreted. But, in this pro cedure,
there would of necessity be much wasted space, for all voices would have to be aligned
upon the triplum, the voice with the great est number of notes; most tripla contam at least
three to four times as many as in the tenor and these have a text that requires extra room.
The method finaily worked out involved the copying of each voice in succession or in what
is known as choirbook format; in this last, the triplum is copied above at the left, the
motetus above at the right and the tenor below, under both upper voices. To indicate the
saving of space by this new method, in the La Clayette manuscript, the com plete motet of
the preceding example takes ten lines for the triplum, eight for the motetus, and only two
for the tenor. Only twenty lines are needed, while at least thirty would have been required
to copy the work in score.
r
The answer to these problerns was found in the development of a new approach to rhythmic
notation, taking into account the new demands for specification of individual note values,
not based upon their place within a ligated group. This new notation, called mensural
notation, retained many of the external features of modal notation but defined the relation
of individual notes one to the other more or less clearly. With simplices, there was an
adoption of a specific note forrn for the particular value desired, so that the longa, brevis,
and semibrevis could be distinguished clearly as individual values. The ligature shapes of
modal notation were not discarded, however, and, in melismatic passages, were still used
with much the sarne purpose as the modern siur. Within the ligature, in spite of a superficial
resem biance to past practice, the sarne kind of definition was made, altering the shapes
slightly to indicate a specific mensural value for the indi vidual notes within the ligature,
not as a modal grouping. The rest was also defined as to length, clarifying its value by the
number of spaces covered.
By around 1260, the shift to mensural notation was almost com plete, in a form known as
Franconian notation. Its name is derived from that of the theorist, Franco of Cologne,
whose treatise, the Ars cantus mensurabilis, is our major source of information. The ad
vances of pre-Franconian notation, while great, had still many areas 1 of ambiguity left
from the vestiges of modal notation; it is Franco’s treatise that shows the final victory of the
notational needs of the motet. Although traces of modal notation can still be found into the
early fourteenth century, the system as described by Franco went far tu solve the problems
caused by the inability of modal notation and its emphasis 011 groups of notes tu cope with
the needs of the motet and its stress 011 the individual note.
So far as musical style is concerned, the developrnents of the latter half of the thirteenth
century were explorations of the new paths opened by composers of the first half. Within
the triplum, the process of greater differentiation continued, with the use of the semi brevis
now becoming almost constant, rather than an extraordinary insertion. A feature of the
motet of the third quarter of the century is the presence of many consecutive groups of
semibreves, separated from each other by the device of the point. While at the beginning
these groups had been restricted to no more than three semibreves, by the end of the
century theorists had begun to talk of the possi
1 ió THE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME
bility of using anywhere from two to nine semibreves’ as equivaient in value to one brevis;
Pierre de la Croix is mentioned by these writ ers as the composer responsible, although
oniy two works can be securely attributed to him. Severa! compositions are preserved, how
ever, that show this increased activity within the triplum; we give the opening of one of
them, “Aucun vont sovent—Amor qui cor vuinerat—Kyrieieyson,” as found in a
manuscript now in Turin:
!
In the example, it wili be noted that, in spite of the vast change that has come over the
triplum, the motetus and tenor are still sub ject to modal rhythm (fifth in the tenor, second
in the motetus). However, ali the drive originaliy possessed by the rhythmic modes as used
by Leonin and Perotin has long disappeared. Because of the in tricacy of the triplum, the
motet must take its speed from that voice. Thereby the rhythmic vitaiity of the lower voices
is destroyed, for the speed is too slow to preserve it. The most striking musical effect of this
reorientation and shift of importance from the tenor to the tripium is the change in character
of many tenors. Many now have no longer any pretense of a pattern of their own; instead,
they con sist of nothing but a series of !ongae, ai! of equal vaiue. The tenor of our exampie
is one of these, for it is a series of twenty iongae closed by a brevis rest, with a subsequent
repetition of the original series.
When there is a tenor partem, it is not as obvious as those of earlier motets, for it is now
longer and has much more variety in note vaiues. Because of the siowness at which it must
be sung and the shape of the pattern, the ear is much iess aware of the arrangement than
with previous tenors.
In the beginning, because of its liturgicai origins and its semi liturgicai position, the motet
had by definition been based upon a piainchant tenor. By the closing years of the century,
this restriction no longer applied and tenors are found to be taken from ali kinds of sources.
Some works do use a liturgicaily derived tenor, but fail to identify it, giving instead the
simpie “Tenor” or “Neumes.” Others draw directiy upon secular melodies, using them as
sources of a cantus prius J as though they were plainchant. Some cite the borrowed secular
work completeiy in its origina! form; these motets, known as French triple motets, are
unusuai in that ail voices, includ ing the tenor, are sung to fuli texts and that the motetus
and tripium reflect the rhythrnic organization of the tenor rather than diff em entiating
themse!ves from it. Others go to the extreme iength of using a free-composed tenor, as in
conductus. In many cases, where a tenor is derived from plainchant it may be formaily
organized into a secu lar form, complete with refrains.
The tenor is not the oniy voice to be subjected to secular infil tration, for the other voices
show the sarne kind of intrusions. Pre existent secular rneiodies are quoted in many motets
with their origina! texts, either in fragments or complete. The texts themselves become
more secular, far more so than those of the earlier French doubie motets. The later motet
sees the appearance of ali types of non-liturgical texts, to the point of inciuding many
censuring the priesthood and condemning vices then current among cierics; one important
source of the iate motet, the Fauvei manuscript (Paris, Bib. Nat., fr. 146) dating frorn 1316,
uses this type of motet as its basic constituent. Finaiiy, where the French texts of earlier
rnotets had often been transiations of Latin ones, the reverse is now more frequently true.
This invasion of the motet by outside musical influences mdi- cates something of its high
position, for, as the center of the reper_ toire, it acted as a rnagnet. for ai! kinds of musical
expression. Just as it attracted to itseif from all sides and from ali categories, so aiso did it
furnish something of itself to forms now negiected. We have noted
!
the disappearance of newiy composed conductus and organa; here the motet supplied the
lack. If one drops the tenor of a motet and the two upper voices are either retained or are
given the sarne text,
r
one has what would seem to be conductus; if one removes the text of a motet, one has what
would appear to be a substitute clausula. Both procedures were followed in the late
thirteenth century.
Our sources for the Notre Dame motet are the sarne four manu scripts mentioned earlier,
plus two important sources that are com pietely devoted to the motet. The largest of the
latter is the Montpeiiier manuscript, H 196, referred to as Mo; the other great motet source
is Bamberg, Ed. N. 6, abbreviated Ba. The iast two sources inciude motets of the eariy
period as well as the later. In addi tion, there are many other sources, peripherai in nature,
that indicate the wide spread of Notre Dame techniques. These come from many parts of
Europe, Engiand, Germany, Fianders, and Spain, as weli as outlying parts of France itself,
ali showing an awareness of Parisian accompiishments, but with local characteristics well
to the fore. Not only do these manuscripts include many works of French origin, but they
also provide evidence that certain categories, the polyphonic trope and Sequence, were still
popular in these areas, although no longer extensively cultivated by Notre Dame. To these
was applied the new motet technique, leading to a paraphrase procedure that per sisted in
certain areas, Engiand and Avignon in particular, until well into the fourteenth century.
Secular polyphony
At the beginning of the thirteenth century, there were in France two distinct categories,
sacred polyphony and secular monophony, clearly different in function, in audience, and in
technique. By the end of tlie century, the once carefully drawn lines between the two had
blurred to the point that, in speaking of the motet, it wouid be impossible to labei it as
compieteiy one or the other; the techniques are generaily those of sacred polyphony, while
the larger part of the textual and melodic elements are those of secular monophony. What
had begun originally as a musical manifestation of a clerical group had become the social
amusement of a nobility that had discarded what had been its own, the monophonic
trouvère art.
The reasons for the many changes found in the motet after the middle of the century,
especially the intrusion of secular elements seem to lie in the increasing secuiarization
within the clergy and in the desire of the nobie laity to adopt for their own purposes the cvi
d
TUE SCHOOL OF NOTRE DAME 121
dent superiority of polyphony. That clerical society was no longer unaware of the beauties
of the outside world is evident in the texts of many motets coming after the second quarter
of the century; echoes of the Goliardic spirit are ail too common and the many reproaches
leveled against priests of ali ranks who had forgotten their vows, found in motets from Ba
to Fauvel, show ao awareness of the loss of spirituaiity. The Albigensian and Waldensian
heresies and the diffi culties involved in stamping them out are further evidence of a risc of
anti_clericalisrn, a failing away from respect for the Church and its servants that even the
establishment of the Franciscan and Domini can orders of mendicant monks, with their new
appeal, could do little to check. The demarcatiOn between cleric and laity in terms of liking
for the good things of life was no longer distinct.
With this lack of cleavage in social outlook, the personai goals of. both classes were quite
dose. When the nobility had recognized the higher interest of polyphony and desired it for
their own, there was little difficulty in getting those rnost slcilled in its production to turn
their talents in a secular direction. In the sarne spirit that earlier com posers had provided
polyphonic works for the embellishrnent of the liturgy, later composers wrote their
polyphony for the enhancerneflt of the courtly occasions. Originally provided for only the
highest festivities such as coronations or other situations of a somewhat litur gical
character, but soon spreading to all kinds of secular occasions, the new polyphony rapidiy
took over those characteristidS that would please its new audience. The effort to delight the
now primarily laic listeners required the use of texts, forms, and melodies already fa miliar,
or their derivations; the audience was no longer lirnited to the Church but was now that
which had forrnerly cultivated the trou vère. This noble public was not one trained in the
scholastic tradition, with its emphasis on the specuiative but was the cultured upper class,
appreciative of the beauties of well-organized sound and under standing rnusic more as an
ars than a scientia.
Since the composer of motets for this group was normally a cleric, his approach to secular
polyphony was primarily through the motet and the techniques developed therein, fitting
the new secular material to its context. During the thirteenth century little effort was made
to apply polyphony to those forms developed by secular mu sicians, namely the rondeau,
virelai, and baliade. In France, the oniy figure who seems to have undertaken polyphonic
settings of these
forms is Adam de la Haile (1240?-1288?), a bourgeois musician from Arras, whose Robin
et Marion is a play with interspersed monophonic melodies. Adam has left seven motets
and sixteen polyphonic ron deis, of which fourteen are rondeaux, one a virelai, and another
a baliade. Ali sixteen of these iast are in conductus style, an approach long discarded for the
upper levei art work, but probably adopted here by the nature of the audience. The music to
“Je muir d’amou rete” (“1 die of love”) will show the manner:
!
The most famous of secular polyphony is the Reading Rota, “Sumer is icumen in,” from the
third quarter of the century. This work is for six voices, four in canon on the principal
melody, two others in canon on a short fragment that acts as a foundation (the pes). As
canonic technique, it is one of the more ambitious works of its time; the continent saw
nothing like this. As with many motets of the sarne time, the Rota carnes the possibility of
performance in Latin; a second text, “Perspice Christicoia,” has been inserted below the
English one. The British Museum manuscript including this work also contains three
polyphonic dances, indicating the be of
122 THE SCHOOL 0F NOTRE DAME
the spread of the new technique into this area. Although there are many indications that
poiyphony had aiready begun to play a large role in dance music, most of it seerns to have
been improvised and thus has not come down to us.
The eariy thirteenth century marks the high point of medieval rnusic, for it is during this
period that the highest degree of union between aesthetic goa! and artistic fulfihlment of
that goa! existed. Until that date, the history of music had been the steady expansion of
technique and artistic achievement toward the creation of a reper toire that wouid satisfy
both the demand of the creators themselves for musical interest and that of theologians who
had defined the pur poses for which music was to be used. There had been no conflict of
interest during the preceding centuries, for it was a true partnership, the cantor working a!
ways in complete harmony with the musicus. The functional and philosophical aspects of
music worked together, the performer thoroughly understanding his place within the philo
sophicai framework, the speculator comprehending the technical in terests of the
practitioner.
The creations of this Golden Age reflect this unity, for the work of Leonin and Perotin
clearly shows the urge to serve the aesthetic goa! set forth by the Church and its thinkers.
The technical miracles produced by these men and their contemporaries were reflections in
sound of the philosophical developments brought to a peak at about the sarne time by St.
Bonaventura and St. Thomas Acquinas. Just as these men were trying to explore the nature
of God and his creations by reason, so were rnusicians then atternpting to mirror the glory
of these creations and the reasonableness of their multiforrn manifesta tions in sound. As
Notre Dame was a replica of the orderliness of God’s world in stone, so were the works of
its rnusicians a reflection of that universe in music.
With the advancing thirteenth century, the paths of philosopher and musician began to
diverge. Where adjustments of the one to the needs of the other had previous!y been made
without effort and with alacrity, there were now increasing indications of a basic split in the
understanding of a cornmon goa!, combined with further evidence that this goa! no longer
carried meaning. In philosophy, after St. Thomas there was more and more a tendency to
degrade what had been, in his hands, a fruitful inquiry to a repetitious mouthing of
forrnulae and intricacies without life or validity; with Duns Scotus
r
(1 270?-l 308) and Wi!liarn of Occam (1 300?-l 349), medieval philoso phy had lost its
drive. In music, the liturgy and its embellishment no longer had overpowering interest for
the cornposer; his concern with the development of technique was now more and more for
its own sake; ai! was done without great regard for the purposes to which this technique
might be put or the fitness of the results to that spiritual goal which had originaliy been
behind his creations.
No better evidence of this failure on the musician’s part is to be found than the growing
number of compiaints heard from the
E Church on the abuses of music and its disregard for its liturgica! function. Roger Bacon,
for one, observed the continua! quest in Paris for novelty, leading to excesses that perverted
liturgical sanctity. Condemnation of the use of the French motet texts as performed in
monasteries became constant after the middle of the century, with a particularly strong blast
appearing in 1275 against motet singing in churches. Aiready, around 1250, the Cistercians
and Dominicans had formally forbidden polyphony as a “disturbance” to the service. No
where does the emphasis on techniques without higher goa! appear more cleariy than in the
violent diatribes against the excessive liber E ties taken by the “rnoderns” written by
Jacques de Liège, whose
Speculum n2usicae comes from the beginning of the fourteenth cen tury; to Jacques, ali
sense of continuity had been lost and no under standing of rnusic’s higher goals remained.
With the bull of Pope John XXII from around 1324, the situation was cleariy recognized.
While organum in the older manner was approved as an aid to devo tion, ali the later
innovations and elaborations were condemned in
their entirety, anathematized as completely outside the spiritual pur poses of music.
Specifically forbidden were rhythmic deformations of plainchant, the use of the vernacuiar,
the appearance of hoquet (a breaking up of a une between two voices by singing its
individual notes in rapid alternation), and the employment of rapid chains of notes in small
values.
The temper of the changing times was such that ali these com plaints had iittle or no effect.
Cornposers kept on exploring musical possibilities without regard for criticism and, what is
more to the point, continued to compose religious rnusic in the new manner, the resulting
works then being perforrned as part of the liturgy. Foilow ing generations were well aware
of the phiiosophica! imp!ications that music was thought to contam but their awareness was
more hp
124 THE SCHOOL OF N0TR DAME
service than obedience; secularization and, with it, the birth pangs of the Renaissance to
come had concentrated their attention on mu sic’s more sensual elements. Musica
instrumentalis was on its way to becoming the master and the focus of interest.
Bibliography
For the innovations of Notre Dame, the outstanding source is Wil liam G. Waite, The
Rhythin of Twelfth Century Polyphony (New Haven: YaIe Univer Press, 1954); the latter
part of the volume in cludes a complete transcription of Leonin’s Magnus Liber. No such
source for the history of the motet yet exists in English, although many articies on various
aspects of the sub)ect have recentiy appeared in Specu lum, Acta Musicologica, Journal of
the American Musicological Society, Musica Disciplina, ançi Musical Quarterly; the major
authorities in Eng lish are, in addition to Waite, Hans Tischler, Luther Dittmer, Willi Apel,
and Frank Li. Harrison. For the reader of French, the study of the motet in Yvonne
Rokscth’s Polyphonies du XlIie siècle (Paris: Oiseau-Lyre, 4 vois., 1939) is ciassic; ali
present-day studies begin here. The fundamental German work is Friedrich Ludwig’s
Repertorium organorum (Haile:
Niemeyer, 1910); incomplete, it is being revised by Dittmer.
Most of the major sources have been published in facsimile: W1 is given in J. H. Baxter, Au
Old St. Andrews Music Book (London:
Humphrey Milford, 1931), while W and Ma have been brought out by the Institute of
Mediaeval Music, Brooklyn, W in 1960 and Ma in 1957. The Institute has also published
facsimiles of other manuscripts of the period, too many to list here. Rokseth’s Polyphonies
is a complete fac simile of Mo, with transcription of its entire contents. Ba has been simi
lariy edited: Pierre Aubry, Cent motetl du XIlle siècle (Paris: Rouart, 3 vois., 1908).
7
The French Ars Nova
VVith the fourteenth century, the dissointion of the medieval world, already intimated in
the closing years of the preceding cen
tury, becomes obvious. The Great Jubilee of 1300, that great Roman pageant designed by
Boniface VIII to show papal supremacy, was followed almost immediately by complete
rum of ali that the papacy had stood for in the nature of a supra-national state. By 1305, the
papacy had embarked upon a time of troubles, starting with the Babylonian Captívity
(1305-1378), when the center of the Church was outside Rome, in Avignon, and only
ending with the dose of the Great Schism (1378-1417), during which the Christian world
saw the spectacle of two rival popes and, for a tihie, three. To the rulers of
125
126 THE FRENCH ARS NOVA
Europe, the Pope no longer represented a spiritual head, above party strife; he had becorne
a tool of national policies, to be controiied and directed in accord with politicai ambitions.
During the Great Schism, aliegiance to one or another pope was made only in part on
spiritual bases; practical considerations often deterrnined the choice. England chose an anti-
French pope, Scotland an anti-English one; in Italy, rulers and subjects of the sarne area
often picked opposing popes, as in Naples and Sicily.
Together with this state of anarchy within the Church went a correspondíngly chaotic scene
in secular affairs. Nationalistic aspira tions and desire for expansion soon brought France
and England into direct confrontation, with the Hundred Years’ War (1338-1453) as an
outgrowth of political ambitions on both sides. In Italy, smail city states continued to
intrigue against each other and to engage in srnall wars with their neighbors; within the
cities themselves civil strife was normal, for the Guelph and Ghibelline factions were
omnipresent. The Guelphs as partisans of papal and popular elements repre sented the
efforts of the middle classes to move against the Ghibel lines, the supporters of the Holy
Roman Emperor and the nobility. In Spain, although successful in clearing the Moors from
the penin sula, the various kingdoms found themselves continually embroiled in dynastic
problerns and in an inability to control the increasingly in surgent nobility; internal
difficulties were cornpounded by the need to steer a careful course between the two giants,
France and England. In Germany, the battle of the towns against the princes was a major
preoccupation; for a time, the Hanseatic League threatened to be come a major power.
German unification made a few feeble begin nings, but, faced with simuitaneous probiems
on ali borders and internai dissensions, rnade no progress; the low tate of German affairs
may be seen in the simultaneous appearance of three rival Holy Ro man Emperors
(1400-1410), a situation like that of the papacy at the sarne time.
To complicate all these problerns, in the rniddie of the century Europe was swept by the
Black Death, reducing the population by one-third to one-haif. Ali parts of Europe felt the
impact of this ioss of life, for the end result was a reduction in the labor force to such a
point that, feeiing his new importance, the peasant became dissatis
THE FRENCH ARS NOVA 127
fled with his lot. In nearly all parts of Europe, there were revoits of the lower classes in
attempts to upset the established social order. None were successful, but they did serve to
disturb the demarcation lines that had been taken for granted, stratifications that had been
so characteristic of the high Middie Ages; the serf, the villein, and the peasant were to
change their social conditions, just as were their betters.
The sarne air of found in the rnusic of the four- \
teenth century. Like the world of which it was a part, nationalism, \ emphasizing individual
characteristics of one iocality and a separation
in technicai approaches from one area to another, played a major role in the musical
developments of the century. Musicians were no ionger recruited primarily from within the
Church and, even when serving the Church, took little account of the functions their rnusic
was to serve. The interest already found in rnusic as a technicai toy became, by the end of
the century in France, the overriding concern; we can only react, in ali too many cases, with
a certain arnazement at the amount of sterile cornpiexity and meaningless intricacy therein.
This period is generally given the narne, “Ars Nova” (“New Art”) by music historians. The
term is derived from the titie of a treatise by Philippe de Vitry (1291-1361), the theorist
whose work in music as both cdrnposer and author refiects the deep nature of the changes.
That the period is literaily one of a “New Art” in France is obvious, for the strictures of
Jacques de Liêge make it evident that there were clear lines of cleavage between the
noveities of the four teenth century and thirteenth-century practices; the late thirteenth
century has, for this reason, often been labeled as the “Ars antiqua,” “Ars vetus,” or “Old
Art” by many scholars, although so described by only a handful of writers of the time.
In applying the te,rm to deveiopments in other countries, Italy or Engiand, for example,
there is more of a problem for to have some thing new there must be something old. In the
case of England, the difficulty is not serious, for English musicians had been generaily ori
ented toward the practices of their French contemporaries from the beginning and, from the
thirteenth century on, remained generally dose to their principies. In Italy, as we shali see in
the foliowing chapter, there was, so far as we now know, no polyphonic art of im
ii
i z8 THE FRENCH ARS NOVA
portance before 1300, except a simple improvisational technique whose roots lay in the
work of Guido. The achievements of the four teenth century are new only in the sense that
nothing like this seems to have existed previously. Even so, the term is appropriate, for Ital
ian music, like that of France and England, refiects the novelties of the times, che newness
of an art that has had to fit itself into a new place in a new society and with new functions.
The changed attitudes toward music and its place are perhaps best revealed in a survey of
the theoretical sources of the period and their contents, as they reveal their purpose and
their intended audi ence. WTe may begin by recalling that the general division of treatises
before the rise of polyphony had been into the speculative and the practical, the speculative
primarily designed for use within the quad rivium and the practical intended for the singer
within the Church. With the introduction of polyphony and, later, the complications of
modal and mensural notation, the arca of the practical treatise had been enlarged to include
the newer developments, but without losing sight of the place of these developments within
the speculative frame work. The compendium of Jerome of Moravia illustrates this clearly,
with its inclusion of speculative elements together with practical de scriptions of technical
necessities; the philosophic viewpoints ex pressed therein are contemporary with those of
its practical directions. The treatise of Johannes de Grocheo from around 1300 begins with
certain philosophical foundations before proceeding to an exposition of forms and other
practicalities; the two arcas are in balance.
With the fourteenth century, the decline of the purely specula tive treatise is evident. In
France, the final great example comes from shortly after 1300, the Speculum Musiccie of
Jacques de Liège. Or ganized in seven books, the work is obviously intended for the em
bryo philosopher; the first five books generally follow the guidance and example of
Boethius and only the last two can be considered as treating practical matters. There is,
throughout the work, an air of frustration, an undercurrent of anger that implies a
realization on Jacques’ part that his labor has been passed by and that bis work is already
doomed to oblivion. In Italy, the last large speculatively ori ented work is that of Ugolino of
Orvieto, the Decicircitio Musicae Disciplincie, a treatise which, like that of Jacques, bases
much of its
TFÍE FRENCH ARS NOVA 129
organization and discussion on Boethius; it too is out of touch with its own time in some
ways, for its third book is an extended gloss on a treatise of Johannes de Muris
(1290?-1351?), a book then almost a century old.
The decline in interest of the speculative as part of the practi cally directed treatise may in
part be traced to an overpowering fas cination with technical novelties and lessened
dependence of such innovations upon philosophical justification. Indeed, many works
suggest an impatience with the older need to begin with a speculative foundation. Several
treatises of the fourteenth century have as their opening phrase, “Gaudent brevitate
moderni” (“Modern men rejoice in brevity”), and then proceed without further ado to the
practicali fies that are the purpose of the exposition. The new audience implied is one
whose intentions are not those of the university student nor the performing churchman; it is
one that is beginning to regard mu sic as a fine art, not a liberal art.
\Vithin the purely practical treatise, the emphasis falls primarily upon the new mensural and
notational innovations. Although trea tises will sometimes include material on plainchant,
the modes and their performance, together with directions for the improvising of simple
note-against-note polyphony, the normal tendency in most sources is to provide nothing
new here; many manuscripts merely in clude copies of older treatises discussing these
subjects, with the newer treatises beginning at once with the novelties in polyphonic
composition. Few works discuss both monophony and polyphony as part of a larger plan;
the older treatises have discussed monophony well enough, so the modern ones omit its
description, in favor of what is to them of more importance.
In France, the novelties of 50 much interest to the fourteenth century were centered about
new ways of mensuration, with the de velopment of means of notating them clearly. In
addition, certain approaches to musical complication already inherent in the late thir teenth
century lcd to characteristic forms, such as the isorhythmic motet and a new emphasis on
the Ordinary of the Mass, and to the expansion of polyphony to arcas hardly touched
earlier, the secular forms such as the baliade, rondeau, and virelai. Similar processes were
at work in Italy, to be discussed in our foliowing chapter; at the be
r
1
THE FRENCH ARS NOVA 13X
ginning, the results within the two centuries were different, but, by the end of the century,
French procedures had proven their superi ority, with a consequent disappearance of purely
Italian methods.
Novelties of the Ars Nova: mensuration
To the end of the thirteenth century and the work of Pierre de la Croix, the essential
rhythmic patterns had been those based on triple groupings, the longa being divided into
three breves. Ali six rhythmic modes reflect this situation, for, even when two breves are to
be considered as equivalent in time value to a longa, the second brevis is altered, that is,
made doubie its normal length, so that it, with its companion, will complete a unit of three
parts. From its triple na ture, like that of the Trinity, this mensuration was given the designa
tion “perfect” and was originally considered as the only possible one, as the sole
mensuration justifiable on specuiative grounds.
Imperfect mensuration, that based on duple divisions, was, how ever, beginning to appear
in the latter part of the thirteenth century, for both Mo and Ba contam certain motets written
in this fashion. In these the longa was divided into two breves of equal value. But, in spite
of the evident interest taken in imperfect mensuration, particu lary by English composers, it
did not have the same speculative and philosophical distinction; its denomination as
imperfect shows its lower piace. The Reading Rota, “Sumer is icumen in,” was originally
written in imperfect mensuration and only later revised hy a foliow ing scribe to perfect;
this may have been done to ailow performance of the Latin contrafactum in religious
circurnstances.
With the Fauvel manuscript of around 1316, the status of imper fect mensuration is well
advanced, indicating that, regardless of its philosophicai position, it is an accepted part of
compositional proce_ dures. The official recognition of the equality of perfect and imper
fect mensurations comes, however, with de Vitry’s Ars Nova of the third decade of the
century, where his discussion makes no intimations of superiority or inferiority on the part
of one or the other; hence forth, perfect and imperfect are to be considered as simpie
appella_ tions indicative of triple or duple divisions within the notational unit, with no great
overtones of speculative irnport.
At the end of the thirteenth century, only four values of notes
were specified, the maxirna or dupl’ex longsi, the longa, the brevis, and the sernibrevis.
Certain difficuities had becorne obvious, for, with the change of temporal unit from the
longa to the brevis and the siowing down of the beat, the necessity of finding a smalier
value than the sernibrevis was apparent. The solution of allowing the brevis to be divided
into from two to nine semibreves, thus j their value effectively in various ways, was
evidently but an expedient; if a brevis be taken as the temporal unit, some way would be
needed to determine the interreiationship of the semibreves within that brevis.
The first solution, described by the Italian theorist, Marchettus of Padua, in his Pornerium
of between 1324 and 1326, and utilized in Fauvei, was the provision of a set of rhythrnic
formuiae handling situations of from two to six semibreves within a group. While use fui,
the method was more a retrogression than an advance, for it was a return to much the same
principies as those at the root of modal notation. A second solution, probabiy deveioped in
the Coliege of Navarre in Paris about the same time, was the introduction of a fifth note
shape, caiied the minima and on the next srnaller level below the sernibrevis; its form is
that of the semibrevis with a tail extended up wards. To this value were appiied the sarne
principies of relationship already outiined in the previous century for the longa-brevis
relation by Franco.
The mensural system as developed by de Vitry and his follow ers, de Muris and others, is
based on the possibility of a tripie or dupie relationship at any of several leveis. At the very
top is that be tween rnaxima and longa, maximodus, theoreticaliy possible, aithough seidom
seen; this was foiiowed by modus, the relationship between longa and brevis; tempus, that
between brevis and semibrevis; and prolatio, that between semibrevis and minirna. To assist
the performer in the understanding of which type of mensuration was to be used, de Vitry
introduced the idea of the time signature to show modus and tempus; the first was
represented by a rectangie including two or three smail dashes, the second by a circie for
perfect and a haif circie for imperfect. Later theorists were to revise the system siightly and
add detaiis to these last two syrnbols to indicate prolatio; a point within the circie indicated
prolatio maior, none prolatio minor. If the minirna be taken as an eighth note, the foliowing
table wiil show the rnodern equivaients of the various time signatures on the levei of
tempus and prolatio:
u
o
o
!
If time signatures were not used, the student had to be given elaborate rules for the
deduction of the mensuration. Many treatises go into extensive detail on this problern, with
elaborate rules on how to determine the mensuration by inspection. One device of impor
tance, also described by de Vitry and amplified by his successors, was the introduction of
red notes into the music, to show shifts in men suration or to indicate changes in value from
those designated by the normal black notes. This last innovation, lending a certain air of
bril liance to the manuscript sources, was developed to a high point, for, foliowing the lead
of de Vitry, various shapes of notes in both black and red were devised, ali to indicate
values not easily written in the normal manner.
A final novelty, sirnilarly of great importance, was the use of the point after a given note,
not only to indicate an addition of length to its normal value, but also as a way of dividing
groups of notes from each other, to aid in the indication of syncopation. Not discussed by
de Vitry, but seen in the examples of his Ars Nova, the use of the point as a way of defining
mensural combinations was to iead to pos sibilities of immense rhythmic cornplexity and
elaborateness.
W7hile the general principles of mensuration and notation
well established by de Vitry and bis imrnediate foliowers, a tremen dous range of
individuality exists in the practical sources, for they show no real uniformity in their
notational procedures. The general
impression gained from study of the manuscripts is that practice was moving more rapidly
than its description and that the notational needs of the composer were satisfied by
solutions that were individual and without relation to an already established system. The
composer knew what rhythmic arrangernents he wished to write and devised his answers to
the problems as they occurred.
Novelties of the Ars Nova: isorhythm
As early as the introduction of the substitute clausula by Perotin at the beginning of the
thirteenth century, it was evident that, to achieve any degree of length, repetition of the
fundamental tenor had to be made. In many of these works, therefore, we note that the tenor
may be repeated several times, often enough to provide the composer with a sufficiently
long foundation. As the century passed, this repe tition became less mechanical and, in the
later manuscripts, began to show a more imaginative approach, repeating the tenor in the
sarne way as in a refrain forrn or in a manner that was to become the method followed by
composers cif the Ars Nova, the method of isorhythm.
To understand the process, it is perhaps easiest to consider a given melody, the tenor, as the
cornposers of the Ars Nova did—a combination of two elernents, its melody and its
rhythm. The rnelody, called the color, was taken as a series of pitches, without rhythrn and
without necessity for retention of a specific rnelodic shape. To this series of pitches, the
composer then applied a specific rhythmic pat tem, the talea (“cutting”), a rhythmic
organization without relation to what rnight have been that of the original melody. To this
pattern
talea the original pitch sequence or color was fitted, so that the final product was a
combination of the two elements, both being re peated. Thus far, there is little real
distinction between this method and the older one of literal repetition, for one could speak
of a literal repetition as one of the color and of the talea, if the rhythrnic pattern of the
original melody is considered as a talea in its entirety.
Where the novelty carne in isorhythrn was the desire of the composer to provide non-
coincidence in length between the two. That is, if the melody included twenty notes, for
example, and the rhythmic pattern decided upon used only fifteen of these, the color
TUE FRENCH ARS NOVA 735
a. ‘Is — . ti
would begin its repetition at a point after that where the talea had aiready recommenced;
there wouid be an overlapping of the first part of the new talea with the last of the color. If
the process were continued to a point of final coincidence, it would require four repeti tions
of the color and five of the tctlea. In the following exarnpie, we show the process on a smali
scale, with a color of six notes and a talea of five; in the complete isorhythmic tenor, the
beginning of each color is marked with a Roman numeral, that of each talea with a letter:
!
With this technique as a foundation, numerous variations were possible. In many
isorhythmic motets, the closing portion of the work wili find the tenor using the original
talea in shortened values, giving a quiclcened pace that acts as a coda to the work. The
length of color and talea were not prescribed, so that the color may be
shorter than the talea, or Vice versa. The isorh process may be refiected in the upper voices,
with the appearance of particular rhythmic patterns, these then repeated in the manner of a
talea; to these, the proper term to be applied is isometric, for there is, in these voices, no
effort to maintain the strict adherence to a melodic se quence as well.
In its fully developed form, the isorhythmic motet begins with preparation of an
isorhythmic tenor, its color normally based on some kind of pre-existing melody, either
sacred or secular or, in some cases, free-composed. Above this tenor the composer adds two
or three voices, one or all of these invoiving the repetition of rhythmic patterns. The whole
receives its name from the isorhythmic character of the tenor. Like the motet of the late
thirteenth century, there is normaliy an attempt to differentiate voices by their speeds; the
tenor, as before, is the slowest voice, with the motetus and triplum in con trasting faster
rhythms.
The isorhythmic motet is the major art form of the French Ars Nova, just as organum and
the motet were those of the Ars Antiqua. lis rhythmicai severity and intensely patterned
course were obvious sources of delight to the cultured listener and provided for him the
same inteilectual pleasure that later generations were to derive from the fugue and the
symphony. There is, within the isorhythmic motet, much the same approach to
intellectuality as today in serial composi tion, with its strict arrangement of patterns of ali
types; twelve-tone composition is, in many ways, but a modern appiication of the prin cipie
of color repetition.
The major sources for the repertoire of the isorhythmic motet in the early fourteenth
century are the Fauvel manuscript, aiready mentioned, and a codex from Ivrea. The Fauvel
source is among the most interesting of all our manuscripts, for it is basicaiiy a long poem
by Gervais du Bus with additions by Raoul Chaillou. Within the poem, many charges are
brought against the Church, the whole tak ing on the form of the medieval admonitio; the
full titie of the work, Le Roman de Fauvel, is derived from the personalization of the stai
lion, Fauvel, a symbol of the vices of the Church, whose name is taken from the initial
letters of the seven vices, Flattery, Avance, Viiiainy, Variabiiity, Envy, and Looseness. In
addition to many monophonic worlcs, the manuscript contains 34 polyphonic composi tions
as interpolations. Although the greater part of these musical
!
insertions are representative of the latter part of the thirteenth cen tury, there are a few from
the presumed time of the source, the early fourteenth century.
The Ivrea codex, from around 1360, is sornewhat larger in musi cal content, for it includes
81 cornpositions—rnotets, Mass sections, and French secular works. Of the fourteen rnotets
now accepted defi nitely as the work of de Vitry, it contains nine. Unlike Fauvel, it does not
hark back to the previous century, but represents a repertoire from around the rniddle of the
century and siightly earlier. One of the most interesting features of its contents is the
balance found be tween the motet and other compositional categories; slightiy less than haif
the compositions represented are motets, with 37 in ali. There is thus some suggestion that
interest in the motet had begun to fade slightly, and that, although it was to remam at the
center of the rep ertoire until into the fifteenth century, other forrns had becorne of
sufficient interest to attract the attention of more and more com posers.
Novelties of the Ars Nova: Masses and Mass movements
With the transfer of the papacy from Rome to Avignon in 1305 and the rapid growth of
court life there, a second rival to Paris as a cultural center was quickly established. Under
John XXII (1313- 1334), the author of the farnous buil rnentioned at the dose of the
preceding chapter, new rnethods of raising funds for the religious hierarchy in its new
French borne had been found, bringing in more than enough to finance a lavish scale of
living. As a part of the papal household, musicians held an important position, not only as
mernbers of a liturgical choir, but also as providers of entertainment for the leisure hours of
the Pope and his retinue.
Although we cannot be sure of the musical climate in Avignon during the flrst years of the
Babylonian Captivity, the Ivrea manu script and another found at Apt, both deriving from
Avignon, give some idea of the shifts taking place after the third quarter of the century, both
in technique and in repertoire. The essentiai change lies in the creation of a new category,
invoiving the polyphonic set ting of movements of the Ordinary of the Mass. While
Ordinaries are part of the Notre Dame scene, they are cornparatively few in
number and are most frequently attached to troped Ordinary chants, the normal ones
appearing infrequently. Certain items, the Gloria and Credo, are hardly set in any manner;
indeed, the Credo is, by its na ture, not to be expected. The Kyrie, Sanctus, and Agnus had
received the greater attention, perhaps because of their shorter texts.
Tu rnid-century Avignon, to judge from the Ivrea manuscript, the situation was cornpletely
reversed. lÃ/e have already noted the lesser place of the motet in that source, 37 works of
81; what is un usual is that, within the rernaining 44 works, 25 are Mass movements, four
Kyries (two troped), nine Glorias (three troped), ten Credos, two Sanctus sections (one
troped), and one indecipherable Kyrie. The ernphasis in Ivrea is upon those sections
previously neglected, for the Gloria and Credo settings cornbined make up 19 of the 25
works. No Mass Propers are included nor are there compositions for the Hours; doubtless,
these were improvised as needed.
The Apt manuscript, reflecting a repertoire of some 25 years later, reinforces the impression
of a trend toward the Ordinary, for, of its 48 compositions, only four are non-liturgical
motets, the re maining 44 works consisting of ten Kyries (six troped), nine Glorias (one
troped), ten Credos, four Sanctus (one troped), and one Agnus, plus ten Hymns; of the ten,
all for three voices, nine have their litur gical melody in the triplum. As in Ivrea, the
number of Glorias and Credos is quite high, although not in the sarne overpowering propor
tion. There is here the one Agnus, a section not represented in Ivrea, as well as material for
the Hours.
Having no modeis for a formal approach, the composers around Avignon turned to
othercategories for their inspiration. As a primary source because of its artistic position, the
motet logically furnished the first basis for the new Ordinaries; but, because of the litur
gical character of the Mass, it could not be and was not taken over without change. These
earliest settings are built, like a motet, upon a tenor, but this is in most cases a non one and
does not have the sarne structural function as that of a rnotet. Instead, it acts as a harmonic
support for the upper two voices, these in turn moving to gether on the sarne text in the
manner of a vocal duet. The tenor rnay be arranged in something resembling an
isorhythmic pattern, but it lacks the dependence on color and talea non-coincidence found
in true isorhythm. Most of the Mass sections in Ivrea are of this type.
A second solution is found in what has been labelled discantus
r
THE FRENGH ARS NOVA 139
technique, talcen from secular modeis without cornplications. Here, there is norrnally but
one voice, the highest, which carnes the liturgi cal text, the lower voices acting as
instrumental supports. In many cases, the tenor is no longer the lowest voice, its place
talcen by what is called a contratenor; both of these work together, often crossing and
closely resembling each other. Evidently, the tenor has not acted as a generator for the web
of the cornposition, but has been con ceived as one of two supports for the upperrnost
voice; the technique is that of an accompanied vocal solo. Apt shows a turn toward this
approach, for the number of Mass sections in discantus is greater than that in motet style.
A final solution is conductus-like, where ali voices carry the text, moving together in the
older manner. lÃ7hether there is dose connec tion or not between the two is difficult to say,
for it is possible that this particular manner is denived frorn the irnprovisatory practices so
common during the period. Both Ivrea and Apt contam many ex amples of this procedure,
suggesting that it was a well estabiished method and one of equal interest with motet and
discantus styles.
In addition to providing the first great concentration upon items of the Ordinary as
individual sections to be set in polyphony, the Ars Nova also presents the first efforts to
collect the various parts of the Ordinary into one unit, that is, to make of the parts a unified
whole, if not by musical means, at least by grouping them together as a set. The rnost
important of the complete settings is that by Guil laume de Machaut, coming from outside
the tradition of Avignon and to be discussed presently. Others exist, obviously not
composed entirely by one man, yet collected together in such a way as to sug gest a feeling
of liturgical unity. The earliest of these is found in a Tournai manuscript, with others also
appearing in sources from Tou louse, Barcelona, and the Sorbonne. In none of these is there
evidence of an intent to compose the complete cycle as a unit, but rather an cffort to
combine individual movements into a set of Ordinaries that will function together
liturgically. It is probable that the various parts of the Sorbonne Mass were the product of
one man, Johannes Lambuleti, but this is not yet securely proven.
Not ali the cycles are complete. for the Credo is not always in cluded. Where it is found, as
in the Tournai or Toulouse Masses, it appears also as an individual movement in other
sources; the Credo of both these Masses is so given in Apt, that of the Toulouse Mass in
140 TI-IE FRENCH ARS NOVA
Ivrea. Other movements may not appear, as again in the Toulouse Mass, where there is no
Gloria.
Recent research has indicated that there are many cross-relations between the various
settings of the Ordinary made around Avignon; composers were evidently well aware of
what their feliows had done. Not only is there provision of contrafacta, as in the Sorbonne
Mass, where the opening Kyrie furnishes the material for the Agnus, but there is also a
procedure in which sections of one composition are taken over, rearranged, and given a
new text. The most complex technique is that of parody, where the polyphonic web of one
piece is used as the starting point for another; this occurs in the Sorbonne Mass’ first
Agnus, which has its roots in an Ivrea Sanctus, this in turn being based on an Agnus coming
from a third source, a manuscript now in Cambrai. As in the thirteenth century, there is
ample evidence here of the continuing tradition of reference to authority and the glossing of
a given text, although the reasons for the reappearance of older material seem to be based
more on purely musical considera tions than on philosophical ones.
Novelties of the Ars Nova: secular forms
By the end of the thirteenth century, the interest of composers had begun to turn to the area
of the secular forms, aithough much of their use of these forrns had been within the context
of the motet; the repetition pattern of certain tenors within these pieces is often governed by
the refrain principies of a secular form, and the musical ideas found in secular works are
carried over into the more artistic form and made a part of the motet structure. Little
attention, how ever, had been paid to the application of polyphony to the secular forms per
se, with perhaps the only extensive effort being that of Adam de la Halie in his rondeaux.
Much the sarne situation can still be found in Fauvel. In spite of the large number of secular
monophonic works in all the usual forrns, the polyphonic compositions include few secular
forms as such. Many of the rnotets carry secular tenors and two of them, the Latin double
motet, “Quomodo cantabimus—Thalamus puerpere,” and the French double motet, “Se me
desires—Bonne est amours,” in spite of their motet technique, repeat the tenor in the
manner of a virelai; the
relation to the secular is dose. Nearer the secular are the two works, “Quare fremuerunt”
and “Bon vin doit,” in which the first, in two voices, uses musical material taken from an
earlier conductus, this in turn handled in the manner of a motet, with the form of a ballade
then imposed upon the whole. The second work is a drinking song, with a short tenor
phrase repeated four times; above it, the duplum and triplum carry their own texts and new
music for each tenor repe_ tition. The tenor here acts much like the “pes” of the Reading
Rota, a foundation for the other parts.
Ivrea reflects the changing attjtudes toward secular forms, for, among the motets and sacred
compositions, one finds five rondeaux for three voices, another for four, two virelais for
two voices, a double virelaj and two more for three. One of these last, “Or sus, vous dormez
trop,” is of particular interest, for it appears in four other sources, some even coming from
the fifteenth century; as a song introducing irnitations of bird calls, it is a forerunner of the
pro_ gram chanson to be developed in the sixteenth century. Curiously, a work by Janequin
that similarly uses bird-song imitations begins with exactly the sarne text.
In addjtion to the flxed forms, the rondeau and the virelai, Ivrea also contains four
examples of the chace, a form based upon canon, where a second voice repeats after a short
time interval that which the flrst voice has sung. The narne seems to derive from the
French, chasse, meaning a hunt; the term is most appropriate for certain pieces, for the text
often describes a hunting scene and includes the sounds of the hunters and the dogs. In a
musical sense, the chace is a chase, with one voice rushing after the other. This sarne type
of com position, with the sarne connotations, is also to be found in Italy, un der a similar
designation, caccia.
The technique of the secular song as found in Ivrea resembles strongly the technique
already seen in certain of the Mass Ordinary settings, those in which the emphasis is upon
the upper voice, the lower ones used as an instrumental support. The tenor is evidently in
ferior in interest, although superflcially it often resembles tenor writ ing as seen in the
motet. The contratenor is not limited to a simple flhling in of the space hetween the tenor
and the uppermost voice; instead, again as in Ordinary settings, it may cross the tenor and
as sume the place of the lowest voice. W/ithout a designation within the source, it would
often be difficult to determine which voice is the
tenor. As an example of the style, we give the opening of “Amis tout doux” (“Such sweet
friends”), from Ivrea:
!
The simple beginnings of attention to secular forms as individual entities were to develop
into a full-blown repertoire by the end of the century, for later sources indicate more and
more the rising interest in them. ‘While in Ivrea there are but 15 secular works out of the
81, in later manuscripts the proportion becomes higher and higher; in the Chantilly source,
to be discussed more fully later, out of 113 com-
THE FRENCH ARS NOVA X43
positions there are but 13 motets. The other 100 pieces are secular forms—ballades,
rondeaux, and virelais. Within the manuscript, there is a clear division of categories, for the
motets, significantly enough, are found at the end of the volume grouped together in one
unit; ali are isorhythmic.
Guillcíume de Machaut
As a symbol of the spirit of the French Ars Nova, no better fig ure can be found than that of
Guillaume de Machaut (1300?- 1377?), for he summarizes within his life and work the
spirit of the age; as one of the outstanding musicians of ali time, he ranks with such other
composers as Josquin, Paiestrjna, Bach, and Beethoven, in that he synthesizes the best of
his own time. There is a feeling of progression to the period of Machaut, with a subsequent
failing off in inspiration and in balance between form and feeling; Machaut is a peak
between two vaileys.
Machaut was bom in Champagne of a noble family and, after taking orders, became the
secretary of John of Luxembourg, King of Bohemia, in 1323. As part of King John’s
entourage, he foliowed his master on various military campaigns, in Silesia, Poland, and
Lithua nia. After 1330, stiil attached to John, he received successiveiy bene fits in varjous
cl-iurches of France, in Verdun, Arras, Reims, and St.-Quentin; he was not required to be
present in any of these places, bar, as was often the case at the time, was given these
positions as rewards for his services, with consequent financial benefits. With the death of
John at the battie of Crécy, Machaut turned to his daughter, whose husband was later to
become John II of France. By 1349, when he had entered the employ of Charles, King of
Navarre, his reputation was such that he became the intimate of kings and nobies; his works
from this date show a dose connection to royai circies. Ai though attached to the courts of
Bohemia and Navarre, bis principal residence after 1340 was in Reims, where he received
visits from both the future Charles V of France and the Duke of Bar in 1361 and 1363.
After 1364, he was, for a time, in the employ of Pierre de Lu signan, King of Cyprus, an
area to become of cultural distinction at the beginning of the foliowing century; he aiso had
some connections
Tenor
CusntnaL.nnvs
8
with Amedeo of Savoy, sending him a manuscript of his works in 1371. Little is known of
his last years, and even the year of his death is not completely certain.
Machaut’slife reflects the secularization of the century, for, ai though a cleric, his career
was spent in secular circles; bis connections to the Church were at best tenuous, although
bis main source of in come was as beneflciary of various religious posts. As secretary to
one of the most active kings of the time, he had the opportunity to come in contact with
almost every major court and with the most cultivated societies of his time. For these
circies, he produced poetry and music in about equal proportions, working for most of bis
life for one noble patron or another. The comparative profusion of sources containing
Machaut’s work is, in part, due to this situation, for he had the custom of supervising the
preparation of presentation manu scripts for his noble patrons and friends.
The emphasis within Machaut’s musical output is upon the secu lar, although there are a
few religious compositions. Speaking first of the motet and its 23 examples, 15 are French
double motets on pro fane subjects, two are mjxed with texts in both Latin and French, and
the remaining six are Latin do motets; only two of these last have purely liturgical
connectionsi Isorhythm is present in the tenors of neariy ali of these, with isometric
elements in the motetus and triplum as an accompanying feature. The tenors are drawn
from all manner of sources, chant melodies and secular songs alike, although many tenors
have still to have their source finaily identified. In style, these works are well within the
tradition established by de Vitry, but show a variety and skill not found in those of the older
master. Equality of imperfect and perfect mensurations is now wholly achieved, with no
preference for one or the other.
The largest group of compositions are those based on the secular forms, the lai, virelai,
rondeau, and baliade. In these, Machaut shows his dose relationship to the trouvère
tradition, for many of these forms are composed monophonically in much the same manner
as in the past. Of the 19 lais, 16 are monophonic; two of the remaining three, in three
voices, utilize the canonic technique of the chace, whiie the third, for two voices, uses
even-numbered lines as counter point to the preceding odd-numbered ones. Machaut is the
last to compose lais, which are now rapidly failing out of favor. Contempo rary sources that
contam other items by Machaut almost never con
tain any of these works, suggesting that their day of popularity had come to an end.
To a certain extent, the sarne situation may be seen in the virelais, for 25 of the 33
composed are aiso monophonic; the remaining eight are for two voices. This is, however, a
form that was not to disappear, for its popularity was high during the foliowing century.
The rea sons for its neglect, and the neglect of the lai as well, may indeed rest on the
general disappearance of monophonic music. To some degree, in these two areas Machaut
looks back to the Roman de Fauvel; one of bis lais is directly connected to the Roman.
‘With the rondeaux and baliades, tbe evident interest is in po lyphonic treatment, for ali of
the 22 rondeaux and 41 of the 42 bal iades are so composed. The greater part are for three
voices, but there are many for two and a smail number for four; most are solo istic in
character, with one voice accompanied instrumentally, but there are two tripie ballades,
with separate texts in ali three voices. Of the rondeaux, the most fascinating is the “Ma fim
est mon commence ment,” a superb example of the crab-canon, where ali three voices
proceed to the rniddle of the composition and then return to the be— ginning by repeating
the material sung, but in reverse order.
The major religious work is the Mass, once thought to have been composed for the
coronation of Charles V of France in 1364, but now believed to have been written for Notre
Dame at Reims some- time after 1337. It is unique within the fourteenth century for, not
oniy is it the only Ordinary setting known definitely to have been made by one man, but it
is also a complete setting, including not only the normal five sections, but aiso an “Ite
missa est.” In style, it sum marizes the advances made eariier, for its six movements include
tech nical elements of ail lcinds. The Kyrie is based on material from Mass IV, while the
Sanctus and the Agnus come from Mass XVII; iso metric techniques are important in ali
three of these movements, not only in the tenor and contratenor but occasionally in the
motetus and triplum. Because of their iengthy texts, the Gloria and Credo ernploy the
conductus-like style aiready noted in Ivrea, but witb an imagina tion and sureness not found
there.
One other reiigious work deserves mention, the “David Hoque tus,” for chree voices. The
tenor is based on the chant used previously by Perotin in his “Alleiuia-Nativitas” mentioned
earlier; it bas been suggested that Machaut’s composition was designed to complete that
!
of his great predecessor. Its tenor is completely isorhythmic, while the upper two voices are
written in hoquet. This technique had its greatest vogue during the thirteenth century,
although it stili forms one of the basic characteristics of the motet of the Ars Nova. (The
preceding exampie, in measures 6, ii, and 14, inciudes hoquet in the upper two voices.)
With Machaut, the energy of the French Ars Nova was at an end. As the last composer of
the century to achieve a balance be
tween ali the elements of musical technique, Machaut represents the drive begun during the
late thirteenth century to free musicians from
. the often restricting partnership with philosophy, to give a liberty of expression not
possible before. With the iast quarter of the cen tury, the balance he had shown in bis works
was to disappear, in fa- jj
vor of emphasis upon the compiicated and the overbiown, upon notational detail and
mensural intricacy. W7hat had been a clear iead- <
ership on the part of French musicians was to disappear before a new : clarity of goal and a
new sense of the appropriate on the part of com- — posers of other areas. Q
A sign of the approaching fali of French practice was the risc of a school of musicians in
Itaiy, an area previously lcnown only as an outlying artistic province of France. Even
though it was not to main tain a reputation for long, the Italian schooi did give signs of the
possibiiity to consider musical practices from other angles than those
stemming from the greatest of medieval centers for music, Notre
-5 Dame de Paris. It is this new art of Italy to which we must now turn.
I3ibl
- Special studies on the French Ars Nova are prirnariiy in the form of magazine articies, the
greater rnass of thern appearirlg in ML/sica Dis ciplina; the major authorities are Gilbert
Reaney, who has done much
work on de Vitry, and Ursula Günther, whose “The l4th-Century Motet and its
Development” in Vol. XII (1958) is important. Leo Schrade has edited Polypbonic Music of
tbe Fourteenth Century (Monaco: Éditions de i’Oiseau Lyre, 1956- ), the flrst three volumes
of which contam transcriptions of ali of Fauvei, the worlcs of de Vitry, and those of
Machaut; Schrade has aiso done several separate studies of the material, which appear in
Acta Musicologica, Journal of the Arnerican Musicologi cal Society, and the Revue Belge
de Musicologie. The Ordinary of the Mass during the fourteenth century is masterfuiiy
handled by Hanna
1
Stãblein-Harder in her Fourteenth Mass Music in France (Rome: American Institute of
Musicology, 1962); this includes transcrip tions of ali the Ordinary movements in lvrea and
Apt, plus those from other subsidiary manuscripts.
De Vitry’s Ars Nova has been translated into English by Leon Plantinga, Journal of Music
Theory, V (1961). Willi Apel’s The Nota tion of Polyphonic Music, already mentioned,
gives a useful explanation of the theoretical changes taking place in the early part of the
century.
For background to the times, J. Huizinga, The Waning of the Mid die Ages (London:
Arnold, 1924), remains a standard source; his dis cussion of Machaut as a poet is of great
value. A coliection of essays and of discussions carried on at Wégirnont, Belgium, in 1955
is also extremely useful, particularly those essays by Leo Schrade and WilIi Apel; the titie
is Les Coiloques de Wéginzont, 11-1955, L’Ars Nova (Bibliothè que de la Faculté de
Philosophie et Lettres de l’Université de Lie’ge, Fasc. CXLIX) (Paris: “Les Beiles Lettres,”
1959).
8
The Italian Ars No’va
L is known about the development of composed polyphony in Italy to 1300, although it is
obvious from inspection of the earliest preserved compositions, from around 1330, that
Italians had already a fairly extensive experience in its writing; these early works show an
originality and skill not possible in first attempts. While French influ ence is clear, with
characteristics of thirteenth-century conductus in some of these Italian compositions, there
is also an individuality that indicates a complete assimilation of these French approaches
and the forging of a peculiarly Italian style, something that could only have taken place
over a fairly long period.
Further evidence of a maturity in style is the high degree of per ‘49
150 THE ITALIAN ARS NOVA
fection and individualism seen in notationai methods at the beginning of the fourteenth
century. These are described in the Pomerium of Marchettus of Padua (late thirteenth
century—early fourteenth cen tury), written between 1321 and 1326, a treatise cieariy
outlining the notational practices of Italian composers and the differences between their
procedures and those of French musicians. The methods de scribed in the Pomerium are not
completely original, for they are derivations of the French system in vogue during the third
quarter of the thirteenth century, that used by Pierre de la Croix. The Italian derivations
have a sufficiently high levei of complexity and compre hensiveness to suggest strongly a
somewhat lengthy period of previ ous experimentation and deveiopment.
Eariy exampies of Italian poiyphony are nearly ali secular works, aithough there are a few
processional compositions for two voices. This emphasis on the secular as the piace of
poiyphony is a generai characteristic of the Itaiian Ars Nova, for little music seems to have
been composed for liturgicai purposes. Instead, the principal func tion of the composer was
the provision of music for social occasions of ali kinds, rnusic that couid be used to
heighten the enjoyment of life. Descriptions of social activities of the times as given in
Boccaccio’s Decarneron (1353) and the Parcidiso degli Alberti (1425?) of Gio vanni da
Prato indicate that music was an integral part of Itaiian social life and that it was not
performed solely by professional musicians, but also by gifted amateurs.
This audience was not interested in the technicaiities of counter point and rhythm so much
enjoyed by the French. Meiodic impro visation piayed a large role in Itaiian music, with
much attention paid to the simuitaneous improvisation of both words and music; this
technique is stili to be found in the late fifteenth century, for Baccio Ugolini, of the court of
Lorenzo ii Magnifico, was highiy esteemed for his abilities in this difficuit art. Such a stress
on melody as a major constituent of music gives to Italian compositions of the Ars Nova a
completeiy different orientation from the French, for, instead of using the tenor as a strong
foundation above which the other parts are composed, the uppermost melody, that with the
poetic text, is pre ëminent and acts as a generator of the iower lines. With Italian com
positions, the tenor and contratenor are supports of a melody that is in itself an elaboration
and ornamentation of an originaiiy simpier une.
r
TRE ITALIAN ARS NOVA 151
The high position of improvisation was not peculiar to secular music; it accounts also for
the lack of attention given by Italian mu sicians to the composition of sacred polyphony.
Improvisation sup plied all the needs for poiyphony withjn the church, leaving little
necessity for composed polyphony. Understanding as did their French contemporaries that
poiyphony was an ideal means by which to enhance a particular service, the Italians
introduced it where ap propriate, but did not go to the point of elaborating it into anything
more than ornamentation of the given plainchant by the adding of improvised note—
against-note counterpoint. Development of organum and discantus styles in the manner of
St. Martial was completeiy for eign to Italy. A description of how to improvise a
counterpoint of more than one note to another does not appear in that country until the late
fourteenth century and, even then, this new technique does not seem to have been generaily
adopted. Within the fourteenth century proper, there are but a handful of composed
polyphonic religious works, showing nothing like the attention paid to this cate gory by
French composers of both thirteenth and fourteenth cen turies. Even composers part of a
religious establishment, men such as the Florentines of the mid-fourteenth century,
concentrate their ef forts on the production of secular music, to the neglect of the sacred.
With the use of simple improvisation as a practical solution to the problern of providing
polyphony for the services, interest in the development of sacred music stopped.
This practical attitude toward music is further reflected in the theoretical treatises of the
time, for the vast majority of them are directed toward practical goais. Those coilections of
treatises that were part of every cathedral library were severely practical in their
approaches, for they include oniy those items that are of value and necessity to the
performer within the choir. Every one of them in cludes at least one work on improvisation,
some coming from cen turies earlier; Guido’s Micrologus is an almost constant constituent
of these collections. To show the emphasis, Ugolino’s Declaratio, one of the last great
speculative works, is found complete in only two sources; its practical sections, however,
particularly that on pIam chant, appear as excerpts in eight others. Music, to Italians, was es
sentially a skill of producing beautiful sounds.
This is not to say that there was no production of speculative material, for the flrst work of
Marchettus of Padua, the Lucidarium
from about 1317-1318, is an excellent example of the species. Yet it was not followed by
many others, the remaining theoretical treatises of the Ars Nova coming only after the end
of the century, those by Johannes de Ciconia (1340?-1411) and Prosdocimus de
Beldemandis (1380?-1428). Between the Lucidarium and the works of these men, there is a
giant gap in which nothing new was produced, reliance probably being placed upon
treatises of an earlier age recopied into new manuscripts.
VVithin Italian speculative treatises there is not the clear reliance upon authority that is so
characteristic of French sources. Marchet tus, for example, shows something of the Italian
tendency toward pure practicality in his discussion of semitones, for, by setting up three of
different size, he aliows a type of chromaticism that is com pietely impossible in the pure
Pythagorean system then in vogue. He also makes reference to the judgment of the ear as to
dissonance and consonance, saying that a dissonance is that which is required by the ear to
move to a consonance.
The reason for the lack of emphasis upon the speculative treatise may lie in the fact that,
unlike Paris, where the university was strong in the liberal arts and was, in fact, primarily
devoted to this type of curriculum, Italian universities specialized in other fields, ones in
which music played no such great role. The University of Bologna, the oldest in Italy, was
primarily known for the study of medicine, while that of Padua, dating from 1222,
emphasized law; only in 1399 was there a separate faculty of arts established at Padua.
‘While music surely must have played some part in the educational scheme at both schools,
it could have received nothing like the attention that it got at Paris, where the cathedral
school and the university were in dose contact. The works of both Ciconia and Prosdocimus
reflect the needs of the newly introduced faculty of arts at the University of Padua and were
probably caused by this elevation of liberal arts; both men were in Padua at the time and
Prosdocimus was a member of its faculty.
The separation of philosophical and practical musical education in Italy caused some
problems for musicians there. While it was pos sible to acquire much knowledge in the
special flelds, it seems to have been understood that Paris remained the major center for the
TI-IE ITALIAN ARS NOVA 153
true education of a musicus. There is evidence- that many Italian mu sicians left their
homeland to study at Paris because their native uni versities were not quite adequate; we
read in a necrology of Florentine Carmelites that, in 1341, one of their brethren, an organist
and cantor named Bartholomeus Duccinj, died in Burgundy on bis way to Paris as a
student.
To summarize, we may say that Italy, in music as in the visual arts, was the flrst area to feel
the impact of the new spirit that has been called the Renajssance. Its orientation toward
music is not that of the Middle Ages, for its designed function for music was that of a
sensual entertainment for a secular minded society. For these circles, the major areas of
study within music were those of almost pure practicality, with little reference to any form
of speculative founda tion. The sole criterion was the beauty of the music itself as deter
mined by its physical characteristics, its impact upon the ear, without great consideration of
its place within a speculative scheme. To Italians, music had become a true fine art, with
only small remnants of the speculative remaining as vestiges of a vanished age.
The forms
Within the secular music of the Italian Ars Nova, three forms were intensely cultivated, all
with some relation to French modeis. During the flrst part of the period, major attention
was given to the madrigal, a form comparable to the ballade, in that there are two sections
of music, the flrst repeated; the second section, called the ritorneilo and acting in the
manner of a refrain, is in a different me ter, thus making a clear contrast against the opening
material. Ah though both carry the same name, the fourteenth-century madrigal has nothing
to do with that of the sixteenth; the later form does not develop from the earlier one.
The madrigal was of Veneto-Lombardie origin, from the North of Italy, and was cultivated
as a monophonic form in the late thirteenth century. In its beginnings, it seems to have been
a rustic manifesta tion, a song of love of the type performed by shepherds and peasants.
‘When taken over by more sophisticated circles, it was treated poly
r
phonically in two or three voices, yet retaining in its text something of its pastoral
beginnings. \Vriting in 1332, the Paduan, Antonio da Tempo, emphasizes this background,
even suggesting that the rhythms as well as the sub matter of the poetry shouid try to retain
the rustic feeling.
Madrigais are found in both two and three voices and in combina tion with the caccia, that
canonic treatment aiready seen in the French chace. An anonymous Venetian theorist of
around 1330 sug gests that one voice, the tenor, should be in iongae, while the upper voice
or voices should move in minimae. This writer indicates that a clear distinction was aiready
being made between Italian and French styles, for he speaks of an Italian and a French
manner, the latter quite useful, so he says, at the end of a section.
WThile many earlier madrigais, particulariy those in two voices, reflect these directions,
not ali are so sirnply cornposed. Even those that come from the manuscript, Vatican, Rossi
215, the source of our eariiest exampies, do not always follow these prescriptions; some
show an effort on the part of the composer to make the lower voice more interesting, either
by giving it interiudes in short vaiues or by aliowing it to move in the sarne rhythmic
patterns as the upper voice, with many short notes. Even where this invoives a clear
difference in rnovement between the two voices, both sing the text together. We give here
the opening rneasures of the two madrigais, “Chiamando un’astoreila” and “Su ia rivera”:
!
The later madrigal, for two and three voices, goes beyond this simple technique, for, in
some two-voice works, there are short imitative passages and also hoquet. We find again a
desire to make the lower voice something more than a simpie support. Even in composi
tions for three voices, where the tenor, the lowest voice, is much in accord with the
directions given by our anonymous theorist, there are occasional passages that remind one
of conductus, where ali three voices move together on the sarne syiiables. One may also
find con trast between the flrst and second sections made by number of voices as well as by
a change of rhythm, the ritorneilo often dropping to but two as opposed to the preceding
section with three. Something of the three-voice technique may be seen in our next
exampie, the opening of the “Nel prato pien de fiori,” where even the tenor is part of the
contrapuntai web.
The caccia is, like its French counterpart, purely canonic in technique, with strict imitation.
Although there are many works in two voices, like the French modeis, the Italians generaliy
leaned to three-voice compositions. The third voice, a tenor, is not normaliy part of the
canonic structure, but acts as a support in long notes to the rhythmic activity of the upper
two. There are exceptions to this, however, such as in the “De’ dimmi tu” of Francesco
Landini, where it is the uppermost voice that stands outside the canon, only the iower two
being invoived in the strict imitation; this work is not a pure example of the form, for it is a
mixture of the caccia and madri gal. The ritorneilo is in triple canon, the tenor entering at
an octave
below and middle voice at a fourth below the opening uppermost voice.
!
Texts of the caccia often carry realistic elements, for they in clude shouts, birds calis,
hunting cries, and various kinds of exclama tions. Their subject matter is often humorous
and may even descend to the licentious. The general effect is one of appeal to a high social
level, one that understood the technical dexterity needed to compose the form as well as
appreciate the way in which the composer could emphasize the textual meanings. In spirit,
the caccia is quite dose to many of the secular pieces then popular in France, such as the
“Or sus” mentioned in the previous chapter.
THE ITALIAN ARS NOVA 157
The preserved sources of Italian Trecento music have left us about 175 madrigais and 25
cacce, with some 420 examples of the third form cultivated in the period, the bailata. This
should not be taken to imply that the bailata is the most important form of the three, but
merely that the madrigal, the major form of the early part of the century, declined in interest
before the impact of the bailata, that form which was most cultivated toward the dose of the
period. While the madrigal continued to be composed, it no longer held as much interest
and thereby suffered a certain neglect.
The form of the ballata is that of the French virelai and, in the beginning, was a
monophonic dance work as its name suggests; we have no preserved exampies of these
types, although there are some monophonic bailate found in the Rossi manuscript, but with
texts that imply nothing of the dance. The classic period of the baliata, ãfter 1365, is that in
which the form has become polyphonic, for two or three voices. As in its French equivalent,
there are but two sections of music: the flrst for the refrain (ripresa) and the third and fourth
lines of the strophe (the volta); the second for the íirst and second lines of the strophe (the
piedi), and sung twice often with first and second endings (the aperto and chiuso). The form
thus is, in musical terms, an ABBAA, the two B’s serving for the piedi, the A’s serving for
the ripresa and the volta. As an example, we append the begin ning of the ballata, “L’alma
mie piange,” by Francesco Landini, as transcribed from the version found in Paris, Bib.
Nat., Ital. 568:
!
Little attention was paid by Italian composers to motet form, either to motets of the past or
to the form as a vehicle for their own composition. Only one thirteenth-century motet
seems to have been copied into Italian sources of the Trecento and but a few were com
posed during the early part of the century. Something of the attitude of Italian musicians
toward the form can be seen in the “Lux pur— purata—Diligite justiciam” of Jacopo da
Bologna, composed about 1342 for Luchino Visconti in Milan. Superficialiy it resembies
the French motet, but closer inspection reveals some characteristic Italian traits. The free-
composed tenor is neither isorhythrnic nor isometric; its values are arranged with no
discernible plan and there appears to be neither color nor talea. The upper voices have
intimations of isometry, but it is not carried through. One gets the impression that J acopo
was trying to imitate the characteristics of the French motet, but without thoroughly
understanding the principies invoived. As with secular works, the emphasis is on the
uppermost voice, the tenor acting as a support, not a generator. The style is that of a three-
voice baliata, but with the bi-textuaiity of the motet.
A similar neglect is given to the setting of the Ordinary of the Mass. One nearly complete
Ordinary is found in the Parisian manu script already mentioned, containing ali portions
except the Kyrie and adding a Benedicamus. Like most of the Ordinaries found in French
sources, the various sections are by different composers, the Gloria and Agnus by Ser
Gherardelio, the Credo by Bartolino da Firenze, and the Sanctus by Lorenzo da Firenze; the
Benedicamus is anonymous. Isolated settings of the Gloria, Credo, and Sanctus are found
in other sources, with one manuscript (London, British Mu seum, add. 29987) including a
Sanctus and a Benedictus, both of which are troped in Italian; significantly, both these
tropes are writ ten in the poetic form of the madrigal.
In style, these Mass movements from the Paris manuscript are closely allied to the
madrigal. The text is simultaneously declaimed by ali voices, although the iower one is
normaily without ornament or ernbeilishment. Imitation may appear in short sections, but
there is no attempt to use this technique in more than fragmentary form; hoquet appears
rarely. The overall form is derived from the break ing up of the text into small bits, these
short sections then being set as units, without effort to make one flow into the other. Even
in those Ordinary chants with little text, the sarne desire to make of the piece
a mosaic of little bits is in evidence; the anonymous Benedicamus setting has five of these,
the longest extending to fourteen measures of transcription, the shortest to just six, all of
this within a total length of fifty measures.
Modern Italian scholars insist upon the continuity of an Italian musical tradition centered
about the exposition of the beauty of the voice; no matter the subject or the period, there is
always the emphasis in their studies on this point, for, in speaking of the great figures of the
Ars Nova, there is frequently reference to Ver di and Puccini as the inheritors of a great
past. While such statements may seem too sweeping at first glance, there is much truth in
what they say, for Italian composers of the Trecento are clearly most interested in the
conduct of the uppermost voice, treating it in the manner of a coloratura une, almost to the
exclusion of individuality in the other voices. One may compare French and Italian
methods by suggesting that the French worked up froni the tenor, while the Italians worked
down from the uppermost voice. To Italian composers, the tenor was that voice that filled in
and supported, acting as a neutral background for the elaborate une or lines above it. To
hear a caccia in three voices is a convincing demonstration, for, against the slow moving
tenor, the upper voices entwine and embroider their elaborate lines in much the sarne way
as gold and silver threads rnight make vivid the picture within a tapestry whose basic tone
is grey or brown.
Scl.iools and cornposers
Until the middle of the fourteenth century, most compositional activity was concentrated in
the northern part of Italy—Milan, Venice, Verona, Rimini, and Padua acting as major
centers. Although many composers of the time were bom elsewhere, they eventually
gravitated to one of these cities, particularly during the rule of certain musically inclined
princes, men such as Mastino delia Scala, tyrant of Verona from 1329 to 1351; Giovanni da
Cascia and Jacopo da Bologna were both at one time in his service. Jacopo is believed to
have been the teacher of Landini; he did produce one theoretical work, a discussion of
notation.
After the middle of the century, the musical center of gravity
r
L
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1—-
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i 6o THE ITALIAN ARS NOVA
shifted South, to Tuscany and in particular to Florence. This city, perhaps better known for
its hurnanistic leadership in the late 1400’s under Lorenzo ii Magnifico, was already an
artistic center in the fourteenth century. As the city of Dante, Boccaccio, and Petrarch, to
name only three major figures of a large group of distinguished and talented writers, it had
already shown the burgeonings in litera ture of the fuil Renaissance to come. Its musical
Ieadership during the sarne period was of equal distinction and represents the height of
Italian achievernent within the Italian Ars Nova.
Of the many composers working in and around Florence in the third quarter of the century,
the greatest figure is that of Francesco Landini (1335?- 1397), a musician_poet comparable
in his versatility and genius to Guillaurne de Machaut in France at the sarne time. Blind at
an early age from the aftereffects of smallpox, Landini be— carne the leading organist of
the city, known particularly for his abilities on the srnall portative organ. His non-musical
talents were also highly appreciated, for he was a part of the inteliectual circies around the
University of Florence that included Salutati. As a poet, he wrote many of the texts to
which he set his music and, in addition, composed a Latin poem in defense of the logic of
William of Occam.
Landini’s outstanding position was recognized by bis contem poraries, for bis output rnakes
up about one-fourth the repertoire of the Italian Ars Nova that is preserved, its high place
indicated by the great number of sources into which it was copied. Unlike the works of
most other Florentine musicians of the time, which appear only in sources from Tuscany
proper, Landini’s compositions come in manu scripts from other parts of Italy; from the
evidence of these sources plus certain poetic texts, it is probable that Landini had many
dose connections to the North, particularly Venice. It is possible that he may have visited
that city many times, to display bis skill as a per former and composer.
Of Landini’s 154 preserved compositions, the vast majority are bailate, 91 for two and 42
for three voices, with 8 others in double versions, for two and for three. The remainder of
the output is divided between the madrigal, with 9 for two and 2 for three voices, and the
caccia, with but two examples. It is also believed that he wrote motets, for there are
surviving records to show that at least five were commissioned; these, however, have been
lost.
Most of these compositions are preserved in one of the more
r
THE ITALIAN ARS NOVA i6i
!
elaborate manuscripts of the eariy fifteenth century, the Squarcialupi Codex, so named
because it was at one time the property of Antonio Squarcialupi, the organist of the Duomo
at Florence during the time of Lorenzo. Although the manuscript is not one of the more
accurate sources for the music which it contains, it is most extensiveiy iliu minated,
containing among its miniatures a portrait of Landini piay ing the portative. It seems to
have been put together as an attempt to collect the works of the outstanding Florentine
musicians of the Ars Nova; the music of Landini occupies aimost haif the volume’s 352
pieces. From the format of the book, its use of velium, and the em phasis on sheer beauty of
iliumination, it is evident that the codex was never intended to be part of a practical
musician’s working library, but was rather to be an ornament within the private coliection
of a book lover, a manifestation of the steadily increasing desire of Italian upper classes to
picture themseives as culturally distinguished.
Unlike the music of Machaut, Landini’s works show the Italian concentration upon the
voice, for the greater part of his compositions are vocaily oriented. The overwhelming
ma)ority of the bailate, for instance, are in the form of the unaccompanied duet, with 82 of
the 91 two-voice examples being for tbis medium. Within the three— voice baliate, one,
“Perche di novo,” is a tripie baliata, with texts for ali three voices; on the other hand, most
of this group is written for vocal solo with accompaniment for two instruments, suggesting
some French influence. The nine two-voice madrigais are also all vocal duets, the two
three-voice ones vocal trios. “Musica son” is a triple madrigal, with individual texts for ali
three voices. The madrigal “Si dolce,” a terzet, is of particular interest, for it shows the
influence of French isorhythmic procedures. Here, the tenor is completeiy iso rhythmic,
with isometry in the two upper parts. “Adiu, adiu” is com pietely French in that it is a
virelai and, uniike any other of bis works, has a French text.
Landini’s handling of melismata implies a strong feeling for vocal technique, with a
limpidness of flow matched by no other composer of bis time. Penultimate syllabies are
often emphasized with sweeping melodic insertions, leading finally into gracefui cadences.
To match the smoothness of individual une, there is also a harmonic clarity and avoidance
of dissonance in contrapuntai movement; harsh sequences of paraliei seconds and sevenths,
as weli as fifths and octaves, are no longer constant parts of the polyphonic web, and triadic
formations
are quite common, except at cadence points where the traditionai perfect intervals are
found. The overali effect is one of suavity and easy flow, typicaliy Italian. To show
something of this, we give the opening measures of the two-voice baliata, “Se pronto,”
from the version of the Squarcialupi Codex:
!
Wíithin Landini’s work, there is already evidence of considerabie influence from France,
not only in the introduction of certain pecul iarly French features of rhythmic complication
and formal con struction, but within the notation itself; the pure Italian notational
3
A
ti
8 re,
practices of the early Trecento have begun to be displaced in favor of methods whose
details had been perfected under the impact of French musical style. After Landini, in the
latter part of the four teenth century and the beginning of the fifteenth, there is more and
more of a turn to French modeis, not only in notation and rhythrn, but also in the forms
themselves and the language used. The madrigal then disappears almost completely and,
although there is still some concentration upon the baliata, many composers turn to the
baliade and virelai, composing both to French texts. Before, French char acteristics had
been impressed on Italian works; now it is the reverse, for these compositions are French
pieces with an Italian accent. Na- tive Italian musical art was not to recover for more than a
century from the initial impact of French practice, remaining submerged under successive
waves of non-Italian domination until the beginning of the sixteenth century.
Itcilicin notation
As we stated eariier, Italian notation in its purest form is a der ivation from the methods
employed by Pierre de Ia Croix; it has been suggested that he was an Italian who brought
his ideas to Paris. In essence, the system is based on the division of the brevis into from two
to twelve parts, with a verbal description indicating the number of semibreves to the brevis
and their internai groupings; in practice, the describing word or words were abbreviated, as,
for example, .n., meaning novenaria, with the brevis divided into three groups of three
semibreves each or nine in ali. WTithin the musical une, those groups making up the value
of a brevis were separated one from the other by points of division, acting in many ways
like modern bar lines. To indicate values other than the standard semibrevis, taiis of various
kinds were added, both up and down, to the oblique, with and without flags; the basic note
shapes could also be altered, for, to indicate shades of mensural meaning, they could be
written as soiid or holiow notes in either black or red. Italian notation from its incep tion
couid thus notate many things not easiiy possibie in the system of de Vitry and de Muris,
but it had one inherent weakness, that its complications were restricted to the brevis
grouping; no syncopation
was possibie and rhythmic intricacies could no.t be carried from one group to another.
With increasing French influence around the middle of the cen tury, Italian notation began
to adapt certain features of the system employed by musicians of that country; Italian
interest in the possi— bilities of syncopation as exploited by the French forced revision of
their system. Italian nomenclature was retained for the various kinds of mensural
groupings, but its meaning and notation were now dose to the French system involving
modus, tempus, and prolatio. This notation, a mixture of both French and Italian elements,
is found normally in works by composers of the later schooi; aimost all the compositions of
Landini are written in this mixed manner. Certain works of this mid-century may be found
notated differently in vari ous sources, showing a transition away from Italian methods to
those of France; whiie the tonal effect of the two versions is the sarne, the visual
appearance is quite different.
By the end of the century, the victory of French notation was complete. An anonymous
treatise of the late fourteenth century, written in Italian for a Florentine convent of nuns,
gives nothing but the ruies for French notational procedures, without mention of Ital ian
methods. Prosdocimus de Beldemandis, in his two treatises on no tation written about the
beginning of the fifteenth century, pleads the advantages of the Italian manner in a most
persuasive language, but it is evident, even to him, that it is a lost cause and that French
notation has won the day. The style for which Italian notation was so fltting was no longer
in existence and there was thus no reason for its retention.
r
1
p
Bibliography
As with the French Ars Nova, most studies on the Italian Trecento are articies. Exceiient
surveys of particular aspects are given by Leonard Eliinwood, “Francesco Landini and his
Music,” in Musical Quarterly, XXII (1936) and Nino Pirrotta, “Marchettus de Padua and
the Italian Ars Nova,” in Musica Disciplina, IX (1955). A portion of the Pomerium has been
translated by Oliver Strunk in his Source Readings. The introduc tion to its critical text by
Giuseppe Vecchi (Rome: American Instirute of Musicology, 1961) is of interest. Discussion
of the work of Ugolino of Orvieto is found in two articles by Albert Seay in Musica
Disciplina, IX
‘1
(1955) and XI (1957); hé has also edited a critical text of the Declaratio,
3 vois. (Rome: American Institute of Musicology, 1959-1962).
The music of the period is in the process of pubhcation by Pirrotta:
The Music of Fourteenth Century Itcily, g vois. (Amsterdam: American
Institute of Musicology, 1954- ); the introductions to these volumes
are essential. The works of Landini are most easily accessible in Leo
Schrade, Polyphonic Music of the Fourteenth Century, IV. For the cacce,
W. Thomas Marrocco, Fourteenth-Century Italian Cacce (Cambridge:
Mediaevai Academy, 2nd ed., 1961) is complete. He has also edited the
Music of Jacopo da Bolo gna (Berkeley: University of California Press,
1954).
9
The Passing
of Medie’val Music
B the end of the fourteenth century, the decay of the medieval world and ali it stood for was
an accomplished fact, with ample evi dence of the inability of its institutions to cope with
the difficulties brought on by changing concepts of social organization and purpose. The
Church, so long the acknowiedged guide and director of man’s activities on earth as
preparation for bis soui’s eternal iif e in heaven, had, in spite of ali its efforts, become a
poiitical weapon in the hands of ambitious kings. Its ciaims as the arbiter of ali
Christendom, with papai supremacy over ali human affairs, were no ionger taken seri ously
by those in power; the thesis of Marsiglio of Padua, announced in his Defensor Pacis of
1324, that kings were superior in secular af 167
r
i68 TFIE PASSING OF MEDIEVAL MUSIC
fairs to any pope and that the Church was but one activity of the State, was well on its way
toward general acceptance. Certainly the events of the time, the Great Schism, the revolt of
the French clergy against the Avignonese Benedict XIII in 1398, the growing pressure from
secular princes for the convening of a council to settie the problems of spiritual leadership
—these and many others indicate the distance traveled since the days of Boniface VIII and
his claims for papal primacy in ali matters, sacred and secular.
National affairs were in no better condition, for political disrup tion was evident ali over
Europe. In France, governmental paralysis was endemic; with the accession of Charles VI
in 1380, revolts of both commoners and nobies succeeded one upon the other; Charles’
period of insanity led to intrigues and instabiiity climaxed by out right civil war. In
England, the situation was hardly better, for, under Richard II, oniy a short period in the
middle of his reign could be cailed peacefui; his rule had begun with the Peasants’ Revoit
(1381) and ciosed with his forced abdication and imprisonment in 1399. Not untii the time
of Henry V, weii into the flfteenth century, was there any real sense of direction. Italy too
was politicaily confused, for most of the peninsula was invoived in intermittent wars, the
after math of the Gueif-Ghibeliine rivalries of earlier times. Rome, no longer the sole center
of European religious hegemony, was at a low point; Florence, aithough enjoying a surface
prosperity, was soon to suifer a series of defeats in battie and failures of its financial houses
that would toppie them from their former position of distinc tion. In Milan, the death of
Gian Galeazzo Visconti in 1402 opened a period of anarchy not to be ciosed untii the
tyranny of Francesco Sforza, beginning in 1447; Venice was the oniy stabie city in ali of
Italy, but with probiems of trade and cornmerce that eventually led to a long series of
expensive wars with the Turks, beginning in 1416. Germany, with knotty probiems of
succession and nationaiism, was in continual turmoil; we have already mentioned the
simuitaneous presence of three Holy Roman Emperors.
With such a state of affairs, it can be no surprise that the music of the iate fourteenth and
early flfteenth centuries has little artistic validity or inspiration. Au artistic situation in
which the goais of a previous civilization and its social stability have been discarded, but
THE PASSING OF MEDIEVAL MUSIC 169
without the introduction of new ideais and functions or an estab lished social order, could
but lead to sterility and formalism, particu lariy in music, where the connections between
form and function had, in medieval times, been so dose. Feeling no aesthetic goal for bis
creations nor a sedure piace in a stable society, the composer of the closing years of the
century retreated into technical complexity,* with little more than this to distinguish bis
music. Little in the imme diate future couid be hoped for from those areas that had brought
medieval music to its peak; just as Italian music had falien before that of France, so did that
of France give way before that of the North.
France at the dose of the Ars Nova
The most signiflcant document showing the decay of French music in the iate fourteenth
century is the Chantiiiy manuscript, copied in Florence during the í-lfteenth century but
reflecting the musical situation in Southern France and Aragon during the latter part of the
prece ding century. Its 113 pieces indicate the changes in style and repertoire of the late Ars
Nova, with notational compiexi ties suggesting that the source from which Chantiliy was
copied was designed to examine the sight_singing abilities of aspirants for em pioyment
within a royal chapei.
Within Chantiliy, the preponderant place is given to the baliade, with seventy compositions,
the overwhelming majority for three voices. There are, in addition, thirty other works in the
flxed forms, divided about equaliy between the rondeau and the virelai; six ron deaux are
isometric. The volume doses with thirteen isorhythmic motets, nine for four voices and four
for three voices. While several composition are of a previous time, four coming from the
earlier Ivrea manuscript and three by Machaut, the buik of the manuscript contains music
by composers of the last quarter of the century. Whiie many of these men were cleariy
connected to the Papal Court at Avignon, some were part of such diverse locales as the
Courts of the Dulce of Lancaster, Gaston Phoebus, the Dulce of Foix, John 1 and Martin 1
of Aragon, Charles V and Charles VI of France, and
170 THE PASSING OF MEDIEVAL MUSIC
J ean, Duke of Berry. Many of these composers had careers extending well into the
fifteenth century, for we find Johannes Cesaris and Gacien Reyneau, to name only two, still
composing in the 1420’s.
WTithin Chantiliy, the evident stress is upon the secular, although a handful of works (two
bailades, one virelai, and three motets) have sacred connotations; they are, however,
without fixed liturgical posi tion. Among the most interesting of the secular bailades is that
by F. Andrieu, a lament on the death of Guillaume de Machaut in 1377, based on a text by
Eustache Deschamps, the friend of Chaucer. Two other works, both isorhythmic rnotets,
have texts based on lists of choir members, a category also found in other sources; one here
is by John Aleyne, an Englishman, and the other is anonymous and lists singers within the
Augustinian order at Florence. As additions of a later date to the manuscript, two worlcs by
M. Baude Cordier show something of the effort to make even the appearance of the music
beautiful: one, “Beile, bonne, sage,” is written in the shape of a heart, with the staves
curving to form the outline, the other; “Tout par compas,” is in a circular shape, a visual
representation of the opening words of the text.
The outstanding characteristic of Chantiliy is its notational com piexity, seen in its use of ali
possible means of indicating mensural values. Not oniy are there the time signatures for
tempus and pro latio suggested by de Vitry and de Muris, note shapes in solid black, soiid
red, and holiow red, but there are also many special directions for the correct realization of
the composer’s intent. Most of these indicate how the mensural signs are to be read, giving
specific direc tions for interpretation. Not all of these devices appear in every com position
and, in many cases, there is no need for those that are used. Too often, there are notational
complexities that have no other goal than that of being difficult to interpret; certain
passages could easily have been written in a simpler manner, so the music itself seems but
an excuse for piling notational complications upon one another. There are varying leveis of
complexity within the modern compositions of Chantilly, yet even the simplest of these are
filled with syncopations and rhythmic intricacies that go far beyond anything known
before. To give a sample of the kind of complication that can be found, we give the second
haif of the opening section of the baliade, “Se doit ii plus,” of Johannes de Alte Curie, an
otherwise unknown composer:
EXAMPLE 9-1.
The opening, that part omitted in our example, is not overiy fllled with syncopation, with
ail three voices in the sarne 6/8 rhythm. At the point where the example begins, there is a
new time signature given for the uppermost voice, while that for the lower two remains the
sarne. WThile the tenor maintains a fairly even pace, the contratenor begins a series of
syncopations not brought to rest until the cadence, where ali voices begin a new
mensuration. This ciosing sec tion is typical of the late Ars Nova, for not only is there
continuous
!
syncopation of the duplum against the tenor, but there is also a rhythmic opposition
between the lower two voices, based on eight eighths to the measure, against the triplum
with its nine; the only constant element is the brevis, this unit fihling the measure through
out, always the sarne in duration. In the course of the composition, it is, however, divided
into two groups of three (6/8), three groups of two (3/4), three groups of three (9/8), and
four groups of two (4/4).
The emphasis on rhythrnic oppositions and their notation is re sponsible for the
introduction of time signatures formed by numbers rather than by symbols; both works by
M. Baude Cordier employ one or two numbers at the beginning of individual sections. The
meaning of these numbers, however, is not that of today, but is a di rection for the
performer to make his new mensuration in a propor tion related to the previous one. For
example, a section rnight begin with the numbers 9/8; the rneaning is not that of a grouping
of nine eighths into three units of dotted quarters, but is the direction that the performer is
now to sing nine notes in the time span required to sing eight of the sarne value, in either a
previous section or as com pared to another voice. Reference to the final section of the
preced ing example will show that the triplum is performing nine eighths to eight in the
duplum and tenor; the time signature used in the original source defines this proportional
relation and is explained in a direc tion given by the composer as a prescription to be taken
as a canon or rule, the original meaning of the term. This system of numerical time
signatures, referred to as proportional notation, would be fully explored by composers of
the fifteenth century, but its origins lie in the late Ars Nova. With its use, rhythmic
counterpoint of a highiy complex nature was possible, for polyrhythmic contrasts of all
kinds could thus be easily notated; ali that was required was an under standing of some
basic metric unit or combination of units that could then be further divided into smailer
groups in almost limitless ways.
The artificiality of rhythmic and notational complexities seen in Chantilly is a direct
refiection of the artificiality of French chivalric society during the late years of the
fourteenth century. WThen that artificial society met its defeat in the rout at Agincourt
(1415), with the slaughter of the fiower of French knighthood, France fell from its high
piace to become the battleground for English and Burgun dian expansion. Just as the
kingdom 50 carefully built up in the days
of Philip Augustus became but a shadow of its former grandeur, so did the music of its
beaten society fali before the innovations of its invaders. Although certain French
composers continued production, their work was quickly overshadowed by that of the new
generation of English and Burgundian musicians who, lilce their noble masters, assumed
the place of leadership.
Italy at the dose of the Ars Nova
Just as the dose of the French Ars Nova is refiected in the Chantiliy manuscript, so the final
years of the Italian Trecento are summarized by two sources, one from Modena and the
other, now in Paris and known as the Reina codex, from Venice. Like Chantilly, both
manuscripts show the influence of French rhythmic complexity and its notation, for the
sarne devices are used for the sarne purposes. Although most of the composers represented
iii Modena are Italian, principally from the Northern parts of that country, the major form
used is that of the baliade, with stress on the use of French as the lan guage for its texts. The
madrigal, that form so typically Italian, has disappeared and the bailata is no longer of great
importance.
Stylistically, the melismata no longer have the limpid fiow so characterjstjc of the music of
Landjni, but, subject to rhythmic aber rations, have become mechanical virtuosity without
musical meaning. The emphasis on rhythmic complexity has destroyed the character of
vocal line that was the heart of Trecento technique in favor of an artificiality that is purely
French. The une between Italian and French styles has virtually disappeared; refiecting this
rapprochement, Chantilly inciudes twelve works also found in Modena.
The major Italian survival is in the arca of notation, for, ai though certain eiements of
French notational practice were early taken over by the Italians, there is still in Modena
evidence that Itai ian predilection for indication of rhythmic values by unusual shapes of
notes still exists. In additjon to the normal French forms, there are numerous varieties of
taiied notes, with fiags above and below, to the right and to the left; these are placed on
both fuil and holiow black and red notes, thus giving the page a strikingly exotic
appearance. As in Chantilly, many of these notational excesses are unnecessary, for the
values could easiiy have been indicated in a simpier manner; there
are also many verbal directions to clarify the meaning of the nota tion.
Already victims of French domination, the Italians were, like the French, destined to fali in
turn before the musical talents of the Ultramontani, the men from the other side of the Alps.
As early as the 1 360’s, Johannes Ciconia, a native of Liège, had come to Italy as one of the
first Northerners to make his way there; although he re turned to bis native land for a time,
he carne back to Italy again in 1403, to Padua where he spent the rernainder of his life.
W7hiie his early works show a heavy Italian influence, those which come from the end of
bis life indicate the development of a newer and simpler style that was to supersede the
involuted compositions then charac teristic of Italian music.
With the reëstablishment of the papacy in Rome and the re vival of the chapel there, the
invasion frorn the North led by Ciconia gradualiy drove Italian musicians from places of
importance. Other rnen from Liège, Rheims, Tournai and, in particular, from Cambrai
brought with them a new simplicity and a new approach to harmonic sonority that was to
make of Italy a musical province of Burgundy and the Lowlands. W7ith their appearance,
Italian music as such carne to an end for a century, not to reappear as an individual
manifestation until well into the sixteenth century. While Italy was to become su preme in
the visual arts, through the efforts of its native creators, in music it was to be represented
during the fifteenth century by com posers of almost ali other parts of Europe save Ttaly;
the history of music in Italy during the first quarter of the new century was to be
represented by such musicians as Jobannes Brasart, Nicholas Grenon, Guillaurne Legrant,
Arnold de Lantins, Johannes de Limburgia, and Guillaume Dufay, ail non-Italians by both
birth and musical training. To the influence of these men from Burgundy was to be added,
at a shghtly later date, the impact of English practice, under the leader ship of John
Dunstabie and Leonel Power. With these two groups, the musical Renaissance properly
begins.
Music theory at the dose of the Ars Nova
By the opening years of the fifteenth century, the deep cleavage between medieval
speculative and practical approaches to music the
ory was almost complete. We have already noted the increasing tendency of theorists of the
early part of the fourteenth century to concentrate their efforts upon the novelties in the
musical techniques of their time, the description of notational practice, improvised coun
terpoint and its rules, together with ali other matters necessary for the education of the
performer. Speculative matter had already begun to disappear from the vast majority of
these treatises as of no real importance in the study of musical technique.
At the end of the Ars Nova, this tendency had solidifled into a standard procedure,
particulariy in view of the overpowering pre occupation of musicians with the difficuities
caused by the rhythmic complications of the music then being composed. While some few
specuiative treatises in the medieval manner continued to be pro duced, those of
Prosdocimus de Beldemandis, Jobannes Ciconia, An selmus of Parma, and Ugoiino of
Orvieto taking the major piace, they all have about them an air of unreality and lack of
contact with the developments of their own time. The Nova Musica of Ciconia, from the
last years of bis life, is a treatise which at first giance couid easily be taken for a work of
the twelfth century, for its contents malce no effort to discuss in speculative terms any
music composed after that date; Ciconia even speaks of organum as though it were a
contemporary category, aithough the production of that form had long since ceased.
There is an effort in some treatises to fit the new deveiopments withjn the old medieval
framework, albeit an unsuccessful one. At tempts are made, for example, to extend the
Guidonian solmization system to inciude the new chromatics. There are efforts to give new
ways of monochord tuning that will handie the added accidentais and give them their
proper numerical ratios according to specuiative procedures of the past. Finaily,
justifications are offered for the de velopments of notation, so that the sarne philosophical
utilization can be made of these novelties as had been made of the elements of the original
system. The line of demarcation between the old speculation and the new practicahty,
however, was far too great by this time to be successfuily bridged. Ugolino’s Declaratio is
the last great effort to consider, in the medieval rnanner, speculation and practice as but two
aspects of one great subject; after him, speculative theory will be considered as a support
for the practical, rather than vice versa. Mu sical practice from the fifteenth century on will
develop its rules of
THE PASSING OF MEDIEVAL MUSXC 177
procedure on the basis of expediency, without need or regard for speculative niceties.
During the Renaissance, when speculative justifi_ cation is offered, it will carry little
weight when balanced against the sensual and affective qualities demanded by sounding
music; the ruies laid down by speculation carry no obligation. Music continued to be taught
in Renaissance universities as a speculative subject, but the raw material of its study was no
longer, as it had been in the Middle Ages, tied to contemporary practice; its flavor was
antiquarian and its meaning not immediate.
Conclusion
Music in the Middle Ages, like ali the arts, had its required func tion, one without which it
could not have existed. This function, a double one as a stage of the quadrivium and as a
part of medieval ecciesiastical rites, gave it an impetus toward development and com
piication that led it to the heights within the thirteenth century. Spurred on by the twin
demands of the philosopher and the Church, musicians bent their energies to furnishing
music that could satisfy to the fullest extent the needs of both. As a necessary part of educa
tion, music became an integral part of that way of thinking that still remains as a monument
to the mental capabilities of medieval man. As a servant of the organizing leadership of the
Middle Ages, the Church, music could and did develop its potentialities in perfect bal ance
with the functions required of it therein. No greater fulfihlment of both an aesthetic and a
practical pair of goals can be found than in the music of Leonin and Perotin, where the
services of the Church stand enhanced with that musica instrumentalis, which implies
within its sounding structures the superior musica humana and musica mun dana.
Yet, as always, within the fuil fiowering of perfection the seeds of decay were contained.
With the passing of the thirteenth century, the faiiure of the Church to maintain its
supremacy as the guide of the world and center of human existence ied to a degradation of
function and a disregard for its needs that eventually gave free rein to the practicing
musicians’ interest in the intricacies of technique for its own sake, with the exaitation of the
purely sensual. No longer un der firm control, excessive interest in goals and procedures
not tied to
what had been the central purposes of music gave a centrifugal force to its concrete
manifestations, so great that disintegration could be the oniy result. With no meaning
except that of technical intricacy, the music of the late Ars Nova couid only vanish upon the
appear ance of a new age, one with new and clear aesthetic goais and func tions within
which musicians could now find a secure piace. This new age we call the Renaissance.
Bibliography
The major source for this period is Willi Apel, French Secular Music of the Late Fourteenth
Century (Cambridge: Mediaevai Academy, 1950); the introduction is a thorough survey of
ali facets of the prob lems, while the musical portion includes representative compositions
in ali categories. In addition, there are ten facsimiles of works from Chan tilly, Modena,
etc., graphically demonstrating the ornate character of the music. This should be
supplemented by Gilbert Reaney, Early Fifteenth Century Music (Rome: American Institute
of Musicoiogy, 1955- ), of which two volumes have appeared. Other works may be found
in Gaetano Cesari and Fabio Fano, La Cappella Musicale dei Duomo di Milano (Milano:
Ricordi, 1956).
The various articles by Gilbert Reaney, Leonard Ellinwood, Frank Li. Harrison, Manfred
Bukofzer, and Rudoif von Ficker in the New Oxford History of Music, III, are exceilent
summaries; their various bibliographies, mainly of works not in English, are quite valuable.
Kurt von Fischer has given a thorough study of Reina in Musica Disciplina, XI (1957); a
similar study of Chantiliy by Giibert Reaney appears in the sarne journal, VIII (1954) and
X (1956). The authority on Johannes Ciconia is Suzanne Clercx-Lejeune, whose major
study, Johannes Ciconia (Bruxeiles: Palais des Acadérnies, 1960), aiso inciudes in its
second vol ume his complete works.
in memory of a great scholar and teacher
1111101111! 11111 Il Hill lii 1111111110 liii liii
04610/97
© 1965 by Prentice-Hall, Inc. Englewood CliJfs, New Jersey
Ali rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced i any form, by mimeograph or
any other means, without permission in writing from the pubiishers.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 65-17795
Printed in the United States of America
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Cover plioto courtesy of The Bettmann Archive.
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Foreword
Students and informed amateurs of the history of music have long needed a series of books
that are comprehensive, authoritative, and engagingly written. They have needed books
written by spe cialists—but specialists interested in CommuniCating vividly. The Prentice-
Hall History of Music Series aims at filling these needs.
Six books in the series present a panoramic view of the history of Western music, divided
among the major historical periods— Medieval, Renaissance, Baroque, Classic, Romantic,
and Contemporary. The musical cultures of the United States, Latin America, and Russia,
viewed historically as independent developments within the larger western tradition, are
discussed in three other boolcs. In yet another pair, the rich yet neglected folk and
traditional musiC of both hemi spheres is treated. Taken together, the eleven volumes of the
series are a
c7
to Leo Sebrade,
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