Wednesday, November 4, 2009

The Clerks' Group

This is, personally, one of my favorite Early Music ensembles. They do Franco-Flemish polyphony, and their sound is very unique. I’ve heard them some years ago on Mezzo channel, performing music of Pierre de La Rue and I was in loved immediately with the group’s sonority. Their recording of the Masses by Johannes Tinctoris is of a profound understanding of how Franco-Flemish polyphony should sound like.

A biographical note

The Clerks’ Group was founded at Oxford University, made its Professional London debut in 1992, and has received widespread praise for its interpretations of Renaissance repertoire, much previously neglected. The group particularly specializes in Franco-Flemish sacred music, and has recorded for Sanctuary Classics the entire sacred output of Johannes Ockeghem, undoubtedly the most renowned composer of the late 15th century. These recording earned them Gramophone magazine’s Early Music Artist of the Year Award in 1997, and two previous nominations for the award. More recently the group has released discs devoted to Josquin Desprez, Pierre de La Rue and Jacob Obrecht.

The Clerks’ Group has performed throughout Europe and the United States, as well as in many of the major UK concert halls, including the Proms; it has broadcast in many European countries, and has made programmes for Belgian and French television. In recent years the group has been exploring contemporary and “cross-over” repertoire Meltdown Festival, and commissioning new work has become an important part of the group’s activities.

The group’s founder and director is Edward Wickham. Edward is a conductor, choral coach and academic who divides his time between performance, teaching and research. He is currently Director of Music at St. Catherine’s College, Cambridge.

More information: Official Webpage

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Gaspar Fernandes

Was a Portuguese composer and organist active in Central America. He was born c1570 and died in Puebla, Mexico, before 18 September 1629. In 1590 he was earning two salaries at Évora Cathedral: 3000 réis as a singer and a further 2000 presumably for playing the organ. On 16 July 1599 a priest of this name was engaged as organist of Guatemala Cathedral (at what is now Antigua) at an annual salary of 200 gold pesos; soon afterwards he was also named maestro de capilla, and his salary was doubled. In 1602 he copied six masses that remained in use at the cathedral until the 1760s. He left Guatemala on 12 July 1606. On 15 September 1606 he was named maestro de capilla of Puebla Cathedral at a yearly salary of 500 pesos, with a further 100 pesos for boarding and teaching the choirboys and 300 pesos for playing the organ. He relinquished his responsibility for the choirboys on 18 September 1608, but on 8 July 1616 he was again charged with teaching them polyphony. Because he and his choir provided unauthorized music for a funeral, he was dismissed from the cathedral on 14 July 1618, but he was reinstated a month later. His heavy duties finally told on his health, and on 8 June 1621 the chapter noted that musical discipline had deteriorated. On 11 October 1622 they engaged Juan Gutiérrez de Padilla to assist him and the two men worked together for the next seven years. An autograph manuscript (now at Oaxaca Cathedral), consisting mainly of the chanzonetas and villancicos that Fernandes composed for Puebla Cathedral between 1609 and 1620, is the largest surviving collection of 17th-century secular music in the New World. His Elegit eum Dominus is the earliest known Latin secular work by a New World composer; it celebrated the entry of the 13th Mexican viceroy into Puebla in 1612.

Robert Stevenson

António Fernandes

Was a Portuguese theorist. He was born in Souzel (near Évora), c1595 (?) and died after 1680. After studying with Duarte Lobo, to whom he dedicated the treatise by which he is remembered, he became a priest and vicar-choral at S Catarina de Monte Sinai, Lisbon. He may have been the António Fernandes who in 1642 belonged to King João IV's Vila Viçosa chapel choir and who, when he became eager to increase his income, alternated between singing and conducting. His Arte de musica de canto dorgam, e canto cham & proporções (Lisbon, 1626), consisting of 131 quarto leaves, is the first music treatise in Portuguese, the first of a long line that later stretches from Frouvo to Luís Álvares Pinto's Arte de solfejar (1761). To honour his mentor an engraving of the Lobo family arms adorns Fernandes's frontispiece, and Lobo's picture surmounts a genealogical music tree variously inserted in the extant examples of his treatise. Following a tradition as old as Boethius he began by dividing music into ‘animatica’ and ‘organica’, the first being subdivided into ‘mundana’ and ‘humana’, the second into natural and artificial instruments. Well read in Zarlino – or at least as much of him as Cerone took over – he made no pretence at originality but instead intelligently and lucidly summarized his predecessors, always with an eye to the needs of a practising choir director: thus he first discussed polyphony, then plainsong, and only at the end such more academic topics as proportions and the genera. According to the 1649 catalogue of João IV's library (p.118), he also wrote, in 1634, an unpublished speculative treatise dealing with musical secrets, Especulação de segredos de Musica. Barbosa Machado, whose version of this title is Explicação dos segredos da Musica, also claimed that the library bequeathed by Francisco de Valhadolid in 1700 contained three other unpublished works by Fernandes: Arte da musica de canto de orgaõ composta por hum modo muito differente do costumado por hum velho de 85. annos dezejoso de evitar o ocio (‘Treatise on polyphony, written along very different lines from the usual, by an old man of 85 eager to avoid idleness’); Theorica do manicordio, e sua explicaçaõ; and a Mappa universal illustrating the whole science of music, with ‘demonstraçoens mathematicas’.

Robert Stevenson

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

António de Belém

Was born in Évora, c1624 and died in Lisbon, 3 March 1700. He studied at Évora Cathedral choir school, while Manuel Rebelo was mestre de capela, and on 29 January 1641 he became a Hieronymite monk at Espinheiro Monastery, near Évora, where he was elected prior in 1667. He was for most of his career mestre de capela or vicar-choral at Belém Monastery, Lisbon. His numerous compositions, including masses for four to eight voices, festival psalms for multiple choirs, Holy Week Lamentations for four to six voices, polychoral Miserere settings, a four-part Prayer of Jeremiah ‘of exceptional sweetness’, Lessons for the Dead for four to eight voices and vilhancicos for the chief feasts, were all lost during the sacking of Belém Monastery in 1835.

Robert Stevenson

Heitor Lobo

The Portuguese organ builder Heitor Lobo was born in Vila Real, Trás-os-Montes, c1496 and died after 1571. Portuguese organ builder. He is generally acknowledged as the father of Portuguese organ building and one of its best exponents. It is not known where he learned his craft, although the decoration and technology of his work suggests that he was familiar with Italian Renaissance traditions. The first organ known to have been built by Lobo was built for the Augustinian priory of the church of Santa Cruz, Coimbra, in 1530–2. Surviving documents provide a good description of this organ, which was hailed as ‘without equal in the realm’. Heitor rebuilt the organ in 1541 and again about 1559. Repoussé metal pipes in the façade of the present organ are probably from the original instrument. Lobo is recorded as having built two smaller organs at Santa Cruz, one a realejo, and the other almost certainly the small instrument in the choir.

A large organ for the high choir of Oporto Cathedral dates from 1537–8, and he almost certainly built two smaller instruments in the nave. Apparently some of the Flautado and Oitava pipes from these organs were re-used by Manoel Lourenço da Conceição when he replaced them in the 18th century.

Between 1544 and 1553 Lobo was employed by the chapter of Évora Cathedral. For a salary of 13,000 reis, he was ‘to repair and tune the organs that he made and is to make’. The historic instrument, which survives to this day on the gospel side of Évora Cathedral, was almost certainly built by Lobo during this time. According to Esteves Pereira and others, the ensemble at Évora included a complementary organ on the epistle side of the nave. This disappeared about 1940, at that time being no more than an empty case. It is not known if it was ever a complete instrument. In 1551 Lobo built a large organ for the church of S Salvador, Vilar de Frades, Barcelos. Another instrument, built in 1562 for the church of Nossa Senhora da Oliveira, Guimarães, has been altered beyond the point of recognition.

The Évora instrument is noted for its tonal quality, the result of masterful pipe construction and low wind pressure. Although now somewhat changed, the instrument is useful in the evaluation of Lobo’s style and of early Portuguese organ-building traditions. Its tonal capabilities were compatible with the requirements of contemporary repertory: in its original form the instrument almost certainly had five undivided foundation stops, Flautado de 24, Flautado de 12, Oitava, Quinta, and Mixtures 15 and 17. There were no reeds and the only solo stop was a four-rank Cornet in the treble.

It is likely that Lobo was a prolific builder (the Santa Cruz documents of 1541 state that he was ‘of much experience and had built many organs’) but that most of his organs were replaced in the 18th century. At Évora, the Clarim and Trombeta stops, added to the façade in the late 18th century, almost certainly represented an attempt by an unknown visionary to modernize the instrument and at the same time save it from replacement by a Baroque substitute.

W. D. Jordan

Simão dos Anjos de Gouveia

A Portuguese composer active around 1611. He studied with Manuel Mendes at the Évora Cathedral choir school. Around 1600, having already joined the order of S João Evangelista, he succeeded Pedro Thalesio as mestre de capela at the Hospital de Todos-os-Santos in Lisbon. In March 1611 he moved to Coimbra hoping to be elected to the chair of music at the university there, but after he had waited nine months, Thalesio was chosen. Sometime later until 22 December 1622, he held a royal appointment to head the music at S João Baptista, Tomar. Only three works have been identified as his: a four-voice motet, Pueri hebraeorum vestimenta, a five-voice hymn, O lingua mens sensus vigor, and a four-voice alleluia.

Robert Stevenson

Monday, October 26, 2009

Domenico Scarlatti

Was born Naples, 26 October 1685 and died in Madrid, 23 July 1757. Was a composer and harpsichordist, sixth child of Alessandro Scarlatti and Antonia Anzaloni. He never used his first Christian name (which could have led to confusion with his nephew Giuseppe): his name is always given in Italy as Domenico (or the familiar Mimo) Scarlatti, and in Portugal and Spain as Domingo Escarlate (Escarlati or Escarlatti).

Life

There is no specific information on Domenico Scarlatti's introduction to music. In so large a family of musicians, his uncle Francesco and brother Pietro, if not his father, would soon have noticed and nurtured his special gifts; biographers have speculated that he finished his musical education under Gaetano Greco or Bernardo Pasquini. Burney states that while Alessandro was living in Naples he entrusted Domenico to Francesco Gasparini in Rome , but Kirkpatrick suggests that Burney's chronology is confused and attributes greater importance to Domenico's contact with

Gasparini in Venice between 1705 and 1709, when he was more experienced. In any case, the young man's precocious talent had already blossomed: when he was only 15 his father had arranged for his appointment as organist and composer of the Cappella Reale in Naples, with a special additional payment for the post of clavicembalista di camera, suggesting that Domenico's particular talent was already evident. When in 1702 Alessandro went to Florence, he chose to take his son, intending that this would seal Domenico's relationship with Ferdinando de' Medici. At the end of the period of leave allowed by the Spanish viceroy, Alessandro sent Domenico back to Naples alone, but if he had meant him to take over the position he himself had relinquished, then he miscalculated, as Domenico had insufficient experience and the opera season for which he was responsible was not a success.

A letter from Alessandro to Ferdinando de' Medici, dated 30 May 1705, is informative and gives a fair picture of the subordinate position in which this authoritarian father continued to keep his son: ‘I have forcibly removed him from Naples where, though there was room for his talent, his talent was not for such a place. I am removing him also from Rome, because Rome has no shelter for music, which lives here as a beggar’. The rest of the letter contains a straightforward assessment of Domenico's talent: ‘an eagle whose wings are grown; he must not remain idle in the nest, and I must not hinder his flight’. The young man was sent to Venice, ‘escorted only by his own ability’, and his father wrote that, in his judgment, ‘he has advanced much since he shared with me the honour of serving Your Highness personally, three years ago’. There is a clear indication of Alessandro's hopes for a position in Florence when he writes: ‘He goes, like a wayfarer, to meet every opportunity that may present itself for him to become known, and which is awaited in vain in Rome today’. The granprincipe (heir to the grand duke) replied that Domenico had ‘truly such a wealth of talent and spirit as to be able to secure his fortune anywhere, but especially in Venice, where ability meets with every esteem and favour’, and confined himself to recommending Domenico to a Venetian patrician.

It is surprising that so few traces have survived of Domenico's activities in Venice; all that remains are two unsupported anecdotes, one of which ties in with another eloquent account of his remarkable skill on the harpsichord. Handel's biographer Mainwaring refers to a competition promoted by Cardinal Ottoboni to compare Scarlatti's keyboard skills with those of Handel, who had recently arrived in Rome: Scarlatti recognized his rival's superior ability on the organ, while listeners were divided on the outcome of the harpsichord competition. The two musicians were on excellent terms and long continued to demonstrate mutual esteem – in his biography, Mainwaring

attributed to Handel a fine picture of Scarlatti the man (‘besides his great talents as an artist, he had the sweetest temper, and the genteelest behaviour’). Mainwaring also recounts a meeting between the two young composers in Venice, during Carnival: ‘[Handel] was discovered there at a Masquerade, while he was playing on a harpsichord in his visor. Scarlatti happened to be there, and affirmed that it could be no one but the famous Saxon, or the devil’. This anecdote anticipates a series of similar legends about Paganini, Liszt and other virtuosos reputed to have entered into a pact with the devil; it was not just one but a thousand devils that Roseingrave later evoked when he told Burney about his first encounter with Scarlatti, to describe the effect on him of the astounding virtuosity displayed by the severe-looking young man who followed him at the harpsichord.

In 1707 Scarlatti witnessed his father's failure in Venice; this may have raised doubts as to the wisdom of his father's self-promotional strategy. As far as is known, there was no immediate reaction, and the son dutifully kept to his father's way of working; but Alessandro's plans allowed no room for Domenico to develop his vocation for the harpsichord, which had already been so clearly demonstrated.

A comparison of the early sources suggests that Domenico Scarlatti's career was less static than his biographers have painted, particularly in the years before he took on his most important positions in Rome: maestro di cappella to Maria Casimira, the exiled former Queen of Poland, and assistant and then later successor to the head of the Cappella Giulia. Alessandro's plan of detachment from his son's career had failed in Naples but in Rome it was successful beyond expectation; the Queen of Poland – Alessandro had described himself as in her service when in 1708 he composed Il trionfo della fede – employed Domenico as her maestro di cappella, after giving him the oratorio La conversione di Clodoveo and the pastoral La Silvia to compose, both to librettos by C.S. Capece, a member of the Arcadian Academy who served as her secretary. This marked the beginning of a close collaboration, guaranteeing that the operas, which Maria Casimira had staged in a small theatre in a room in her palace, and the serenatas, performed in summer on a bridge across the Strada Felice joining Palazzo Zuccari to the palace opposite, were generally along the same lines. Some of the credit for their success belongs with Filippo Juvarra, who designed the sets: with inventive use of perspective he overcame the site's narrow dimensions which would otherwise have made it impossible to create operatic marvels of the kind that audiences were accustomed to see in the stagecraft of the great theatres. Even if there were considerable differences of style and quality between his father's supposed models and Scarlatti's known work (as Boyd has pointed out), the duties of maestro di cappella to an exiled queen meant that Alessandro's experiences under Christina of Sweden were repeated, with rather more consistent application.

When, on 19 November 1713, Paolo Lorenzani, director of the Cappella Giulia at S Pietro, died, he was succeeded by his assistant Tommaso Baj, and Scarlatti was appointed to Baj's post and when, on 22 December 1714, Baj died, Scarlatti took his place as maestro di cappella. This guaranteed income came at a fortunate moment, as financial ruin had obliged Maria Casimira to leave Rome and take refuge in France. Scarlatti's early, Neapolitan works may include sacred music, and he had composed sacred pieces for the Basilica Liberiana when his father was its maestro; this new, important post led him to intensify his work in this direction. The original Stabat mater for ten voices is usually assigned to this period and is recognized as his most significant contribution to sacred polyphony.

The direction of the Cappella Giulia imposed heavy demands on Scarlatti but did not exhaust his capacity for work. June 1714 saw the beginnings of his relationship with the Marquis de Fontes, the Portuguese ambassador, for whom he composed an Applauso genetliaco in celebration of the birth of one of the Portuguese infantes. This first connection with a Portuguese patron led, five years later, to Scarlatti's move to Lisbon. At the same time Scarlatti did not neglect opera: when he lost his position with the Queen of Poland, he continued to have his operas staged at the Teatro Capranica, where his father's last operas were being staged at just the same time.

Alessandro's declaration that he would not impede ‘the eagle's flight’ is consistent with a strange document from 1717 in which he conceded, apparently with some reluctance, his son's independence from paternal authority. Clearly, important changes were pending: on 3 September 1719 an entry in the Vatican Diario declares that ‘as Sig. Scarlatti maestro di cappella in St Peter's has departed for England, Sig. Ottavio Pitoni, formerly at St John Lateran, is appointed maestro’. It has never been established whether he did in fact intend to travel to London, or indeed whether he actually went; Francesco Scarlatti had been there since April of that year, and it should be noted that both Handel and Roseingrave were active there. On 30 May 1720 Narciso, a new version of Amor d'un'ombra e gelosia d'un'aura, modified and conducted by Roseingrave, was performed in London; had Scarlatti been there, he would surely have been involved in the performance.

While a visit to England remains a vague possibility, Scarlatti knew when he left Rome that London would not be his final destination. It is now known, from documents discovered and published by Gerhard Doderer, that he was impatiently awaited in Portugal, where João V had appointed him mestre of the royal chapel. He arrived in Lisbon on 29 November 1719 to a great welcome: not content with having ‘demonstrated his skill’ to the sovereigns several times, he sang at court accompanied by the queen herself. Lisbon promised only a more lucrative continuation of the Roman routine, although there were no regular performances of opera; but fulfilling work as a teacher awaited the new mestre de capela and after various notices of his successful early appearances Scarlatti was asked to take charge of the completion of the musical education of João's brother Don Antonio.

In Lisbon, Scarlatti was impressed with the talent of Carlos Seixas, whom Don Antonio had suggested as a pupil. Portuguese legend holds that Scarlatti recognized the young man, then 16, as his superior; however improbable that may be, it is likely that it was Seixas who set him on a new path, the combination of elements of art and folk music. Meanwhile, another royal pupil was showing exceptional musical talent: Maria Barbara, who later, as Queen of Spain, was an indulgent and generous protectress and patron of Scarlatti, was beginning to ‘surprise the amazed intelligence of the most excellent Professors with her Mastery of Singing, Playing and Composition’. Now, besides having to compose sacred works or revive ones already given in Rome, Scarlatti had the extra pleasure of composing harpsichord pieces in the service of Maria Barbara and Don Alfonso. This raises the issue of the chronology of the sonatas, and it may be appropriate here to bring into question the widely accepted rejection of Kirkpatrick's ‘approximately chronological’ theories. When Scarlatti arrived in Lisbon he had more than sacred music in his baggage: in addition there were almost certainly some 50 keyboard pieces that had been written or sketched before he left Italy. There was no opera in Lisbon, but there were performances of sacred works and serenatas (some composed by Astorga) for celebrations of royal birthdays or namedays. A notice in the Gazeta di Lisboa in 1722 and a Vatican document attribute the title of ‘Abbate’ to Scarlatti; this was apparently in connection with an ecclesiastical benefice and has no further historical significance. The accounts studied by Doderer make no reference to Scarlatti's presence in Lisbon between the end of December 1719 and 24 June 1720; and on 16 April 1720 a musician called Dominicus Scarlatti is listed as present in Palermo at a meeting of the Unione dei musici di S Cecilia. This may simply be another musician of the same name; but the complex relationship between Scarlatti and Emanuele d'Astorga, another Sicilian composer of cantatas and serenatas who was soon to move to Lisbon, suggests otherwise. Astorga held important civic posts in Palermo and may have encouraged Scarlatti to visit the land of his forebears. ‘Dominicus’ was at another meeting of the Unione in Palermo on 9 December 1722. The two dates are not incompatible with records of Scarlatti's presence in Lisbon (as shown by Doderer), and other contemporary accounts (by Quantz and Hasse) confirm his presence in Rome and Naples in 1724 and 1725 in spite of his obligations as mestre of the Portuguese royal chapel. Further, he returned to Italy at the end of January 1727 (as a document discovered by Doderer shows): Sig. Domenico Scarlatti M.ro di Cappella of his Majesty the King left here for Rome, to restore his health with the benefit of that air, since he has not been able to recover from his indispositions, his Majesty having provided him with 1000 scudi for the journey, for the esteem in which he holds his qualities. This discovery confirms the notice of a reimbursement of the costs of a journey cited by Walther on the basis of a reference in no.122 of the Hallische Zeitungen, no longer traceable. It has been suggested (by Clark, after Walker) that Scarlatti was continuously on the move between 1719 and 1728.

It is uncertain whether Scarlatti returned to Lisbon after being cured; but he was almost certainly present at the performance of the Festeggio armonico that he composed in celebration of the betrothal of his pupil Maria Barbara to Ferdinando, the Spanish infante, on 11 January 1728. The wedding itself took place a year later, on 19 January 1729, in a pavilion specially built on the Rive Caya to allow both João V and Philip V to attend without setting foot on foreign soil; it is not certain that Scarlatti attended this second celebration, but he had been in Rome on 15 May 1728 when he married the 16-year-old Maria Catalina Gentili. Possibly he returned to Portugal soon after that; the dedication to João of his Essercizi indicates that it was by his royal command that Scarlatti was allowed to follow his pupil to her new country.

The systematic moves of the Spanish court round the principal cities of the kingdom have been detailed by Kirkpatrick and, following the various stages of this itinerary, Clark has tried to isolate the folk elements in some of the sonatas that reflect the ‘tunes sung by the carriers, muleteers, and common people’ to which Scarlatti, a southern Italian, must have been susceptible. The curtailment of his duties, now that he was no longer mestre de capela to the Portuguese court, sparked a profound change in his activities: happy to be freed from that routine, he now became involved in the highly cultivated, private entertainments that Ferdinando and Maria Barbara held in their apartments, sheltered from the jealousy and resentment of Elisabetta Farnese, Philip V's second wife. One of those taking part in these entertainments was Farinelli, risking losing the favour of the queen who had brought him to Spain and had succeeded, through the great singer's virtuosity, in her intention of rousing Philip V from his lethargy and depression. Farinelli's presence may have been the stimulus for the cantatas which Boyd assigns to Scarlatti's maturity.

Shortly after moving to Spain, Scarlatti had returned at least once to Lisbon; a manuscript diary indicates that the ‘musician Scarlatti’ was accompanied by ‘his lovely wife and two children’ and that he continued to receive his large salary. The ‘Abbate Scarlatti’ image was vanquished, and the term ‘musico’ less than ever implied ‘castrato’: in 19 months of marriage the ‘hermosa’ Catalina had given her mature husband two children. She had six altogether, and died on 6 May 1739; after a brief period as a widower Scarlatti married Anastasia Ximenes, a young woman from Cádiz who between 1743 and 1749 gave birth to a further four children, giving Domenico parity with his father's progeny. If this represents rivalry with the ghost of Alessandro, on a musical level the younger Scarlatti's prolific output of sonatas corresponded in number and quality to the older composer's cantatas.

In 1738, the publication of a collection of 30 Essercizi brought Domenico Scarlatti's sonatas a Europe-wide circulation. A token of gratitude to João V, who had appointed him a Knight of the Order of Santiago, the volume is prefaced by a conventionally eulogistic dedication: the contrast between the laudatory hyperbole and the subsequent note to the reader is striking: Do not expect, whether you are an amateur or a professional, to find any profound intention in these compositions, but rather an ingenious jesting with art by means of which you may attain freedom in harpsichord playing. It was not self-interest or ambition which led me to publish them, but obedience. Perhaps they may please you, in which case I may more willingly obey further commands to gratify you in a simpler and more varied style. The publication, given official standing by its dedication to the king, had been preceded by preparatory work in Paris which led to later issues. In London, Roseingrave, seeing his role as Scarlatti's alter ego in jeopardy, immediately printed a pirate edition which added to the Essercizi 12 pieces which apparently dated from the period when he had met the composer in Italy. Avison took the unusual course of complementing some of the pieces from Roseingrave's collection with others also by Scarlatti, apparently in his possession, in orchestral versions as 12 concertos. Even if all the evidence suggests that the Essercizi turned out to ‘please’, the promised publications ‘in a simpler and more varied style’ never appeared; none of the subsequent publication ventures seems to have been guided by the composer.

In 1746, when the death of Philip V saw Ferdinando and Maria Barbara accede to the throne, Farinelli's influence led them to find a place for opera, which could count on the personal connections of the darling of the opera stage as well as powerful support from Vienna of Metastasio, who was an intimate friend of Farinelli's. Scarlatti, however, was not invited to return to opera composition and the last part of his life seems to have been spent on the immense task of overseeing the compilation of the double series of manuscripts in which form his collected sonatas have come down to us. In the volumes copied between 1752 and 1757 the use of the number 30, on an almost systematic basis (repeating the formula of the Essercizi), suggests the existence of some planned publishing scheme, abandoned on the deaths of the composer and his royal patrons. One charming legend has this work as the happy consequence of Scarlatti's known weakness for gambling: the queen and Farinelli (who told Burney that he helped his friend in similar predicaments) are supposed to have offered the money to pay off the composer's debts in exchange for written copies of the sonatas which Scarlatti had largely improvised in the princely apartments. The survival of the treasure that has come down to us in the royal manuscripts, inherited by Farinelli on Maria Barbara's death, would thus be due to another, special act of ‘obedience’.

The impression of Scarlatti's final years is of a contrast between a striking show of vitality which saw him continue to father children up to the (for the period) advanced age of 64, and a creative mood of introspection which produced the final polished versions of the sonatas that constitute his legacy. It is tempting to imagine that it might have been Antonio Soler (a monk in the Escorial and a pupil of Scarlatti's in precisely the years 1752–7) who compiled the volumes and assisted the composer.

The single autograph letter which has survived, written to the Duke of Huescar in 1752, matches this twilight mood: as well as complaints about ‘theatrical composers’ who knew nothing of counterpoint yet received such praise, the letter courteously contrasts Scarlatti's health, which prevents him from leaving his house, with that of his noble addressee, ‘great, strong and magnanimous, and full of health’, betraying a poignant serenity in keeping with the impression of an elderly composer weighing up a lifetime's experience. This sense of detachment from the world also has a suitably religious aspect, and there is a beautiful manuscript from 1754 (copied out with extreme care to make the calligraphy match that of models from the past) of a Missa quattuor vocum which shows Scarlatti adhering scrupulously to the old style neglected by the opera composers. If 1754 is the year of its composition, the significance of this attractive piece is as a proud demonstration of a specific skill, and any contradiction with the almost contemporary Salve regina for soprano, strings and continuo, which beautifully sums up the synthesis of contrapuntal learning and melodic and harmonic practice at the basis of Scarlatti's technique, is only apparent. Almost all the manuscript sources of the piece describe it as ‘the last work of Dom.co Scarlatti made in Madrid shortly before his death’, but other ‘swansongs’, covering most of the century, from Pergolesi to Mozart, may have suggested such a legend, which nevertheless is stylistically plausible. The indication on a manuscript of the last series of pieces in the collection similarly reads: ‘last sonatas for harpsichord by D. Scarlatti composed in 1756 and 1757, the year in which he died’.

In his penultimate year, Scarlatti had received a visit from Dr L'Augier, a friendly Viennese doctor who travelled to hear the ‘national melody in all parts of the world with philosophical ears’; Burney took down his testimony, which the doctor considered ‘a living history of modern music’. Scarlatti gave a warm welcome to his guest, who was better placed than anyone to appreciate the introduction into the sonatas of ‘many passages … in which he imitated the melody of tunes sung by carriers, muleteers, and common people’. The ‘sweetest temper’ and ‘genteelest behaviour’ which Handel attributed to his colleague characterize the recorded conversations, even when the arguments grew heated. Scarlatti was outspoken in his criticism of the ‘cembalo music’ by certain contemporary composers as not uniquely appropriate to the harpsichord. His insistence in defending his own artistic work, which he knew was open to criticism, is significant: Scarlatti frequently told M. L'Augier, that he was sensible he had broke through all the rules of composition in his lessons; but asked if his deviations from these rules offended the ear and, upon being answered in the negative, he said, that he thought there was scarce any other rule, worth the attention of a man of genius, than that of not displeasing the only sense of which music is the object.

The contradiction with the reprimand for ‘modern theatrical composers’ is only apparent: similar arguments should be related to the sort of superiority complex that had led Alessandro Scarlatti to compose ‘inhuman’ music which he deliberately made inaccessible to ‘any Professor’. For all the differences in their human approaches, both father and son agreed with Horace that ‘Non cuivis homini contigit adire Corinthum’ – ‘not everyone deserves to get into Corinth’.

Instrumental works

Any discussion of Domenico Scarlatti's instrumental output must focus on his keyboard sonatas: not only because of the pre-eminence of the Essercizi and sonatas in his work but because even in their most developed form these pieces relate to a single stylistic model, identified by Ralph Kirkpatrick as the basso continuo. The practice of improvising an accompaniment on a bass line was a stock-in-trade of every professional musician; in the case of Scarlatti, a keyboard player of astounding virtuosity and immense creativity, the habit of condensing, of translating contrapuntal implications into harmonic structures, meant that routine formulas were gradually left behind.

Such a statement cannot be justified without reference to the principal manuscript sources which, with the Essercizi, have preserved the corpus of Scarlatti's work for posterity. This is a double sequence of volumes which Farinelli inherited from the Queen of Spain, in the compilation of which the composer must have been involved during his final years. Two volumes, bound like the 13 to be described below, were compiled in 1742 and 1749. The Spanish and Portuguese coats of arms, stamped on the cover of the binding of these collections and the subsequent ones indicate that they were intended for Queen Maria Barbara in person.

The volume dated 1742, which probably contains only sonatas composed before Scarlatti moved to Portugal, arranges the material in no discernible order but immediately establishes the formal model, used in every separate piece, which Scarlatti continued to follow almost invariably: this, broadly, is a binary structure with repeats, typically linked to the dance suite. The volume opens with 15 pieces stylistically fairly close to the Essercizi; then a Fuga is followed by some less sophisticated, and less quintessentially Scarlattian sonatas. These include genuine remnants from some suites: a Gavota, a Capriccio, a Gigha and Scarlatti's only known set of variations. There are also what are clearly transcriptions of polyphonic motets (k69, 87), of ‘Italian concertos’ (k37) or reminiscences of his father's toccata style (k67, 72). The influence of violin style looms large, something which the composer apparently assimilated during his Venice years; these are among those keyboard pieces inspired by other existing instrumental (or vocal) styles, which led Bukofzer to speak of ‘transfer’. The most developed of them see the introduction of procedures (crossed hands, acrobatic leaps) that Scarlatti used fairly systematically in his mature harpsichord music. It would be inappropriate to refer simply to ‘transfer’ in the case of the numerous sonatas in more than one movement presented as ‘melody and bass’ which can be, and were intended to be, performed by more than one instrument. In this case the texts retain unmistakable violin references.

The contradiction inherent in the titling of the volume which promises exclusively ‘Sonate per cembalo’ is only apparent: performance on harpsichord alone is still possible, as is demonstrated by other sonatas (the Capriccio k63 and particularly the Gavota k64) created in the spirit of basso continuo but then overloaded by the overt notation of chords – very different from Scarlatti's later ideas, as a mature composer, when he arrived at a characteristic keyboard style. Curiously, the volume contains five of the Essercizi although these pieces had been available in printed form for four years.

Some of the sonatas in this volume follow the archaic scheme whereby the principal piece is followed by a short minuet; it is possible to see here the germ of a conception that later underwent considerable development in the internal organization of the subsequent collections, beginning with that of 1749. Here the Sonata k100 displays an odd structure: at the end of an Allegro, which has all the characteristics of an independent Scarlatti sonata, the indication ‘volti subito’ introduces an Allegrissimo with identical characteristics: these would be two distinct sonatas were it not that the composer demonstrated unambiguously his intention to group them together, instructing the copyist to give the pairing a single number (3) within the volume. Kirkpatrick gave each piece a separate number in his catalogue (k99 and 100), justifying his decision by the separate appearance of the sonatas in other sources. This explicit pring anticipates the principle later adopted, Kirkpatrick's ‘pairwise arrangement’, whereby most of the sonatas subsequently copied were grouped into 192 pairs and four groups of three. Contrasting or complementary elements lie behind the groupings: often a cantabile or demonstrably rhythmic sonata is followed by a brilliant one, and the major mode may follow the minor (always with the same tonic). Even when, in subsequent volumes, some pairs seem to be formed from the juxtaposition of stylistically dissimilar elements, the overall intention to group the pieces – which the copyist cannot have conceived and carried out without the composer's consent – holds true. It seems that Scarlatti was influenced by the contemporary circulation of harpsichord sonatas in two or three movements – those by Alberti, for instance, with which he was certainly familiar. The new volume shows an emphasis on virtuosity and justifies Kirkpatrick's term ‘flamboyant’ to describe the style of these sonatas.

Between 1752 and 1757 a single amanuensis assembled, from sketches or originals that are now lost, no fewer than 28 beautifully copied volumes. This was the period during which a monk in the Escorial was a pupil of Scarlatti's; Soler's references to copying the composer's work and to the ‘trece libros de clavicordio’ add strength to the hypothesis that he himself was the copyist (the more likely in that one of his biographers praises Soler's diligence and tirelessness, attributes essential to carrying out so demanding a task). These 13 volumes, with the two previous, unnumbered ones, make, together with a copy of the Essercizi, the corpus of the Venetian manuscripts; the fact that they were intended for Maria Barbara implies that their internal organization is definitive.

The reference to Maria Barbara and Ferdinando prompts the suggestion that the prevalence of undemanding sonatas in the first two volumes is explained by their having been written for teaching purposes at the highest level. The third and fourth present a splendid assortment of sonatas whose perfect balance between musical sophistication and virtuoso demands reveals Scarlatti's stylistic maturity. Here more than ever is that ‘ingenious jesting with art’ to which Scarlatti referred in the preface to his Essercizi: a game in which the inspired composer and his excellent pupil are equal partners. The following three volumes may reveal a step backwards in terms of quality, a return to more elementary dimensions and educational concerns, hinting at the arrival of a less gifted pupil (perhaps Ferdinando). The eighth volume heralds what Kirkpatrick called ‘the final glorious period’. Given the recourse to sonatas which clear stylistic considerations indicate were composed earlier but were deemed suitable for the creation of groups of two or three, the evident maturity of the final collections does not necessarily support the theory that the sequence in the manuscripts follows the chronology of their composition: the most striking novelties concern the enlarged keyboard (increasing with each new volume, up to the five octaves and a tone of k485, copied in 1756), but the previous versions of some sonatas, in secondary sources, reveal that some originally designed for instruments with a more limited range were inserted, in versions adapted in the light of new possibilities.

The other series of 15 volumes duplicates 444 sonatas in the Venetian manuscripts and provides further pieces not in those collections (including the group of 12 exceptionally beautiful sonatas which come at the end of a secondary manuscript source, with the description ‘Last Sonatas for Cembalo by D. Domenico Scarlatti, composed in the year 1756 and 1757, in which he died’). The elimination of the melody and bass sonatas and of pieces judged too close to the archaic practice of ambiguous instrumentation shows that some filtering had been carried out on the contents of the 1742 and 1749 volumes; the omission of the last sonatas is motivated by the desire not to compromise the standard 30 pieces per volume, which makes the trece libros a perfect sequel to the Essercizi.

Both the Venice and Parma manuscripts specify a ‘cembalo’, and every Spanish reference to a ‘clavicordio’ generates confusion, given the ambiguity of this term, which could indicate equally the clavichord proper or the harpsichord (‘clavicordio de plumas’), or even Cristofori's instrument (‘clavicordio de piano’). Since the surviving evidence links Scarlatti's miraculous playing to the harpsichord, not to the clavichord nor the Florentine ‘arpicembalo che fa il piano e il forte’, it is appropriate to consider Scarlatti's keyboard music as written principally for the harpsichord. When he specifically intended the organ (k287 and 288), the manuscript is absolutely clear about the type of instrument (‘da camera’, with two manuals, ‘Flautato’ and ‘Trombone’), and the pieces abandon the customary binary structure. There are other keyboard instruments on which the sonatas can be played, so reflecting the variety of choices characteristic of a much more casual approach than fanatics of historical performance would allow. The clavichord, which was fairly commonly found throughout Spain, can render the cantabile qualities of some Adagios effectively but robs almost all the Allegros of their vivacity. Scarlatti was familiar with the ‘clavicordio de piano’ and in Florence as early as 1702 and 1705 had been able to try out the prototypes that Bartolomeo Cristofori built for Ferdinando de' Medici; he certainly played the other model, which the Tuscan prince had presented to Cardinal Ottoboni. Don Antonio of Braganza, the uncle of Maria Barbara and a pupil of Scarlatti in Lisbon, had travelled in Italy in 1714 and was the dedicatee of the 12 Sonate da cimbalo di piano e forte detto volgarmente di martelletti by Ludovico Giustini, the first sonatas published specifically for the instrument. Three ‘Clavicordios de piano, echos en Florencia’ appear in the queen's inventory of instruments (the fact that two of them had been transformed into harpsichords has given rise to a variety of theories). For all its limited volume, Cristofori's instrument met and overcame the lack of colour in the harpsichord of which Maria Barbara had complained. In any case, it is known that Scarlatti used hammer-action instruments in Portugal and Spain, and this must be taken into account. It is going too far to transform the greatest harpsichordist in history into ‘the piano's

greatest advocate’; and all the more so since the discovery of a detailed inventory of Farinelli's instruments has brought to light one that sensationally prefigures the Grand Pleyel beloved of Wanda Landowska. This was probably the famous ‘Cembalo expresso’ (‘expressivo’?) for which Scarlatti wrote the pair of sonatas k356 and 357, written on four staves and included in the Parma but not the Venice collections.

The inventory attached to Farinelli's will clarifies which and how many ‘various devices’ were capable of forming ‘different series of sounds’ on an instrument which Giovenale Sacchi, his biographer, described in vague terms. The document confirms that the harpsichord was ‘invented by the maker of this will’, indicates that it was built in Madrid by Don Diego Fernández and provides details of enormous interest: ‘it plays the pianos and fortes with a quill’, is ‘an eight-foot instrument’ and uses ‘three types of string, of copper, steel and gut, which play together, separately and mixed, according to the attached plan of its various registers’. All this would be extraordinary enough if it did not also have, hidden in the feet of the legs that support the instrument at each end of the keyboard, springs to engage the registers with ten stops to a pedal so that they can be operated separately or together, with ‘movable lead knobs’ used to engage one or two registers while the feet are operating the others. The registers are: (1) 4' [ottavina], full register; (2) Archlute, full register; (3) Left hand harp, half register with gut strings; (4) Left hand 4', half register; (5) Archlute and 4', full register; (6) Harp and harpsichord, full register; (7) Harpsichord sounding as flute, full register; (8) Right hand, 4', half register; (9) Right hand, harp, half register with gut strings; and (10) Harp, full register with gut strings. Sacchi relates that: By chance the queen, in talking with Farinelli, mentioned that she would like to have a harpsichord with more various tones [voci], and asked him if he had ever seen such a one. He replied that he had not. But then, leaving the queen without saying anything further, he consulted Fernández, whose talent he knew, and after they had designed the work together and executed it, he arranged for it to be found as a surprise by the queen in her apartments. This revolutionary instrument was thus the product of a passing dissatisfaction on the part of Maria Barbara and the inspiration of a hugely talented courtier and a great craftsman. If this is the harpsichord finally made ‘expressive’ by its variety of registers, the devoted Scarlatti would hardly have missed the opportunity to celebrate its invention with a pair of pieces such as these; but the fact that a four-staff layout thereafter disappears from the sources shows that the composer returned to composing and organizing his work for his own harpsichord, one with an ever larger range but solidly anchored to the standard sound. It was up to the imagination and skill of the performer to reflect, in strictly idiomatic terms, allusions, ranging from the obvious ones to the guitar and certain fanfares that he imaginatively idealized, but also draw together musical references to Christmas melodies that, as a child, Scarlatti had heard Neapolitan bagpipers play. So, while Cristofori's and Fernández's instruments remain legitimate and interesting options, Scarlatti's sound world is firmly rooted in the instrument on which the young virtuoso had called up the thousand devils which so astounded Roseingrave, and which now allowed the aging maestro to interpret the songs of Iberian muleteers and carriers in the variety of approaches that give the sonatas their exceptional vitality.

The part played by melody in Scarlatti's keyboard interests is marginal, given the prevalence of harmonic and rhythmic ideas in his harpsichord music. The internal structure of the sonatas is a confirmation of what is almost disavowal of melody, paradoxical for a Neapolitan but enormously significant for a composer for whom the harpsichord held no secrets. It is misleading to focus on the role of thematic elements when analysing the sonatas: Scarlatti's approach is based rather on following the conventional harmonic span of each binary piece. This was implicit in Kirkpatrick's shift of interest towards the variety of accessory elements in the sonatas, in which he proposed a distinction between the ‘closed sonata (in which both halves begin with the same thematic material)’ and the ‘open sonata (in which the thematic material that opens the first half is not used to open the second)’. It is significant that his principal new idea was a form of abstraction, linked more closely with tonal polarity than with the pedantic enumeration of ‘themes’; this was the ‘crux’, which Kirkpatrick defined as ‘the meeting point in each half of the thematic material which is stated in parallel fashion at the ends of both halves with the establishment of the closing tonality’. The unconventional aspect invoked by Scarlatti in his conversations with L'Augier should not be ascribed solely to the surprising effects scattered like spices in the texture of the sonatas but also to the fact that so many openings, seemingly promising thematic development, give way immediately to as many ‘original and happy freaks’, based principally on lively rhythmic ambiguities and harmonic manipulations (including those acciaccaturas for which von Bülow implied a Shakespearean reference when he invoked ‘a madness not without method’). There was in Scarlatti a sort of manic obsession which can be linked to the Christian parable of the talents. As L'Augier told Burney: He used to say, that the music of Alberti, and of several other modern composers, did not, in the execution, want a harpsichord, as it might be equally well, or perhaps, better expressed by any other instrument; but, as nature had given him ten fingers, and, as his instrument had employment for them all, he saw no reason why he should not use them.

There is an implicit criticism here of transcriptions of music not idiomatically suited to the harpsichord's capabilities. In 1756 the compilation of the manuscripts was almost complete, and Scarlatti could look with a certain detachment at the ‘transfers’ of his youth, even if possibly some instrumental transcriptions of vocal music in the pathetic style and elegantly decorated (k208, for example) escaped his censure. Now song and melody were reserved for voices, and the composition of his gentle Salve regina in the same year confirms such a decision. When the harpsichord reclaims its melodic rights it comes in the incipits of some of the mature sonatas (k544, 546), but the charm lasts only a few bars: soon harmonic dialectic takes over and fingerwork fills the space left empty by Alberti and his imitators.

Vocal works

Scarlatti's first opportunity to engage in opera came with the appointment of his uncle, Nicola Barbapiccola, as impresario of the Teatro S Bartolomeo, Naples, for the 1703–4 season, when the young composer was called upon to provide three operas, one of them an extensive revision of Pollarolo's Irene. His main contribution to the genre, however, was made with the seven operas he composed for Queen Maria Casimira in Rome between 1710 and 1714, of which two survive complete in their original form and a third in the version produced (as Narciso) in London in 1720.

Too often dismissed as pale imitations of his father's operas, they show several quite original traits coupled with a keen dramatic sense. In ensembles, for instance, the individual lines are often distributed in an easy, conversational style, and the prescribed da capo is sometimes jettisoned in the interests of natural expression. In the arias it is not uncommon for a character's indecision or conflicting emotions to be conveyed through frequent changes of tempo and dynamics (and sometimes of instrumentation). Some arias are designated alla francese, and in others the voice is doubled throughout at the unison or octave with no other accompaniment – a Venetian trait rarely, if ever, to be found in Alessandro Scarlatti's works. The satirical farce La Dirindina, intended as intermezzos for one of the two public operas that Domenico wrote for Rome, is also unlike anything ever attempted by the elder Scarlatti.

Scarlatti seems not to have been employed as an opera composer after leaving Rome in 1719, although he evidently continued to take an interest in the genre and occupied his own box at Farinelli's productions for the Spanish court. His interest in vocal composition did not, however, come to an end with his appointment as music-master to Princess Maria Barbara in Lisbon. Of the several serenatas he composed for the Portuguese court (and before that for his Italian patrons), only two survive, both incomplete, but Contesa delle stagioni especially, written to celebrate the birthday of Queen Marianna on 7 September 1720, contains some of his finest, and grandest, writing for voices and instruments.

The chamber cantata, of which just over 50 fully authenticated examples by Scarlatti survive, was another genre which he cultivated with considerable success. Those he wrote in Italy (most of them probably in Rome) are mainly accomplished, though conventional, examples of the type of solo cantata in which his father had excelled. Of more interest are two manuscripts containing in all 18 cantatas dating almost certainly from Scarlatti's Iberian years; some at least may have been sung by Farinelli at the Spanish court. They show Scarlatti adopting many of the features – predominantly major keys, a slow rate of harmonic change, numerous written ornaments (particularly the slide) and Lombardic rhythms – associated with operas by such composers as Conforto, Hasse and Jommelli that were performed at the court.

It is difficult to arrive at even an approximate chronology for Scarlatti's church music. Only a single work, the expressive Salve regina for soprano, strings and continuo composed during the composer's last year, is dated in the sources, but this is quite probably for private devotions rather than a church composition. Most, if not all, of the other sacred pieces were presumably written during those periods between 1708 and 1728 when Scarlatti was employed as a church musician.

Among the earliest, perhaps, are four works that have remained in the archive of S Maria Maggiore ever since Scarlatti wrote them in 1708–9. The antiphon Cibavit nos Dominus, possibly intended for the feast of Corpus Christi in 1708, is one of Scarlatti's most successful stile antico pieces; other works in this style include a four-part mass which may have been Scarlatti's contribution to the re-stocking of the royal palace library in Madrid after the fire of 1734. Also among the S Maria Maggiore works is a mass, La stella, notable for its stylistic dichotomy; the Credo and subsequent sections again exemplify the stile antico, while the Kyrie and Gloria employ a kind of stile misto that Scarlatti was to use to even greater effect in the best-known of all his sacred works, the Stabat mater for ten voices and continuo.

It should occasion no surprise that Scarlatti's vocal music shows little of the harmonic daring and few of the ‘happy freaks’ that characterize his mature harpsichord sonatas. The keyboard music of this period – Scarlatti's perhaps more than most – sprang directly from the composer's fingers in the act of improvising. Vocal composition, on the other hand, was essentially a considered art, subject to the demands of a text and governed by the rules and traditions of ‘good composition’. The apparent gulf between Scarlatti's vocal and keyboard styles can be observed also in the music of other composers such as Byrd and Frescobaldi.

Reception

Scarlatti's sonatas were circulated irregularly and only in part during their composer's lifetime. In England, Roseingrave and others laid the foundations for what Newton later described as the ‘English Cult of Domenico Scarlatti’, a phenomenon that developed after the Essercizi, Roseingrave's response and Avison's transcriptions had been published, and music which had had a halo of myth and which later in the century was performed and valued by Kelway, Worgan and Clementi, and imitated by Arne, Avison, William Jackson and others, began to be disseminated.

But the earliest publishing ventures with Scarlatti's sonatas were in Paris, and it was there that the Essercizi were reprinted, together with other sonatas, one of which (k95) is unique to Boivin's edition. Apart from these indisputable signs of interest, there is no information as to how the French public reacted to Scarlatti, but it must have come as a shock to open a volume of Pièces choisies pour le clavecin ou l'orgue and discover music so different from that by Dandrieu, Dornel, Daquin or Corrette, to which keyboard players of the generation after Couperin and Rameau were accustomed.

Although it has been said that there was no Italian Scarlatti cult, Abbé Santini was able to acquire copies of hundreds of the sonatas and introduce famous pianists to them, including Cramer and Liszt; these musicians took great pleasure in reading old music direct from manuscript at the home of the Roman collector – ‘especially pieces by Domenico Scarlatti, whose “Cat's Fugue”, such an original and unusual masterpiece, was always one of the favourite pieces of that select and intelligent band of listeners’. As a result, some knowledge of Scarlatti's music and his style spread through the Italian musical world, of which evidence can be found in references made by such musicians as Rossini and Verdi.

In the first decades of the new century, it was Vienna that saw ventures destined to bring about a fuller knowledge of Scarlatti's work. The collection of the diplomat Joseph DuBeine included about 100 Scarlatti sonatas, distributed in various volumes which on his death in 1814 were auctioned and acquired by Archduke Rudolph, Beethoven's pupil par excellence. Between 1803 and 1807 eight volumes of sonatas were printed, partly from DuBeine's collection. Clementi, a leading figure in the ‘English Cult of Domenico Scarlatti’, was regularly in Vienna at that period in his capacity as music dealer; he seems to have been responsible for inventing the story of the ‘Cat's Fugue’ (k30), according to which the unusual theme came from a kitten's random steps up the keyboard. It was also in Vienna, in 1839, that the publisher Haslinger and his pupil Czerny completed the publication of as many as 200 sonatas.

In Germany, knowledge of Scarlatti's music may have been encouraged more by the circulation of foreign publications than by that of the VI Sonate per il cembalo solo published by Haffner about 1753. Did Bach know Scarlatti's music? Assumptions that two pieces by Bach were derived from Scarlatti models were ruled out by Kirkpatrick, but it has been suggested that the Goldberg Variations 30 in number, are a response to the 30 Essercizi; Bach may well have encountered the publication or one of its reprints (it is worth remembering that the term Clavier-Übung, used by several composers before Bach, is the equivalent of Essercizi per il gravicembalo). Other German musicians demonstrated their admiration for Scarlatti: Quantz, who met him in Rome in 1724, had been amazed by the perfection of his playing, and Hasse remembered for Burney, half a century later, ‘a wonderful hand, as well as fecundity of invention’, when he heard him in Naples, on a visit to his elderly father. Scarlatti found no favour with two important exponents of German Romanticism: Mendelssohn took offence at an observation by Rossini after hearing one of his Charakteristische Stücke: ‘Ça sent la sonate de Scarlatti!’ Schumann repeated a remark by a ‘brilliant composer’ (Mendelssohn?) that compared with the most gifted German composers Scarlatti was ‘like a dwarf among the giants’. There is nationalism in the opposite direction in a letter from Verdi to Ricordi (November 1864): after bemoaning the exclusion of ‘the so-called Cat's Fugue’ from the Scarlatti items in an anthology of old music: ‘with so strange a subject a German would have created chaos, but an Italian made something as clear as the sun’. Hans von Bülow prepared an edition of 18 sonatas, but in comparing Scarlatti with Bach ruled that he was ‘not a genius but a talent of great significance’; he illustrates the reasons that led him to eliminate the acciaccaturas, which he thought created cacophony on the piano and offended the eye and ear (precisely the freedoms of which Scarlatti boasted to L'Augier), and he also retouched many ‘harmonic errors’. Nevertheless, von Bülow paradoxically recognized Scarlatti's role as a precursor of Beethoven, since with him ‘humour and irony set foot for the first time in the realm of sound’. Brahms collected Scarlatti manuscripts and studied the sonatas in depth: some passages in the Second Piano Concerto seem to be influenced by the demanding k299, and the quotation of k273 as the incipit of the song Unüberwindlich is a clear act of homage.

As for the Iberian peninsula, the manuscripts studied by Boyd and Doderer make it clear that the sonatas were not used exclusively by the composer's royal pupils; the existence of Spanish copies which assign to the organ pieces far from the austere idiom normally connected with the instrument reveals an unusual and unexpected circulation of the composer's legacy.

A decisive step in bringing about a proper knowledge of Scarlatti's work was taken at the beginning of the 20th century with the publication by Ricordi of all the sonatas then known (545 of the 555 pieces later catalogued by Kirkpatrick). This was done by Alessandro Longo, who took account of the Venetian sources, some of the early editions and certain of the Viennese manuscripts, but not the parallel series of manuscripts now in Parma (whose existence was unknown) nor a pair of important volumes in England. Longo's work is certainly dated; its principal defects derive from insufficient knowledge of stylistic issues and matters of instrumental technique and performing practice. Further, he followed his own whims in regrouping the pieces into arbitrary ‘suites’ according to key. The credit for re-establishing certain characteristics of the texts goes to Walter Gerstenberg, who in 1933 carried out a rigorous comparison of the principal sources, although he neglected to give sufficient emphasis to the grouping into twos and threes, which his own scrupulous cataloguing had brought to light. Ralph Kirkpatrick's study (1953) was the fruit of ten years of careful research, added to the practical experience of an illustrious harpsichordist. Thanks to Kirkpatrick, Scarlatti ceased to be an eccentric, late product of the Baroque need for ‘marvels’ and his music received the kind of critical attention which would see Schumann's unjust verdict set aside. A new chronological ordering, realized through a regrouping of the sonatas by genre, was proposed by Giorgio Pestelli (1967), whose contribution had considerable value in establishing an appropriate historic and stylistic context for Scarlatti. From 1970 the writings of Joel Sheveloff have enlivened the critical debate with interventions of remarkable polemical force and exemplary attention to detail, with a perceptive interpretation of the sources. The most telling contribution using

Spanish sources has come from Malcolm Boyd, who has also provided a determined,well-documented re-evaluation of the composer's vocal music. Gerhard Doderer's contributions are concerned primarily with the documentation of biographical data regarding Scarlatti's time in Portugal, and also information on the instruments Scarlatti favoured.

Roberto Pagano, Malcolm Boyd

Saturday, October 24, 2009

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Friday, October 16, 2009

Nicolas Grenon

The French composer Nicolas Grenon was born c1375 and died in 1456. He was not a member of the chapel of the Duke of Burgundy in 1385, as has often been stated. The first extant record of his activities dates from 1399, when he was listed as a clerk at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris and named as the replacement for his deceased brother Jean Grenon as a canon at St Sépulchre in Paris. In 1401 Grenon was elevated to sub-deacon and then deacon of St Sépulchre. By 1403 he had moved to Laon Cathedral to be master of the choirboys, a position he held until 1408. For a short period in 1408–9 Grenon was in Cambrai where he taught grammar to the six choirboys of the cathedral and sang in the choir. He resigned this post in July 1409 and the following month took the place of Cesaris as maître des enfants in the Ste Chapelle, Bourges, in the service of the Duke of Berry. By 1 August 1412 he had been taken into the service of John the Fearless, Duke of Burgundy, as master of the choirboys of the Burgundian chapel. His duties required that he feed, clothe and house his wards and instruct them ‘in the art of music’. After the death of Duke John on 10 September 1419, Grenon returned to Cambrai Cathedral for a short time, and then from 1425 to 1427 worked in Rome as master of the choirboys of the chapel of Pope Martin V. After his stay in Italy he returned to Cambrai where he stayed until his death in 1456.

Grenon composed in all three genres of polyphonic vocal music of the early 15th century: the secular song, the motet and the mass. His five surviving French chansons include three rondeaux, one ballade and one virelai. The virelai, La plus belle et doulce figure, is written in the so-called ‘treble-dominated’ style in which the highest voice carries the melody and the two lower parts are accompanimental in style. His ballade Je ne requier de ma dame survives with a contratenor supplied by the Italian composer Matteo da Perugia. Grenon’s motets employ the technique of isorhythm rigidly in all voices. His four-part Christmas motet Ave virtus virtutum/Prophetarum fulti suffragio/Infelix typifies his strict application of the isorhythmic principle: the tenor melody, which is the final phrase of the popular medieval sequence Letabundus, is repeated in a series of rhythmic diminutions; above the tenor the upper three parts sing a talea, repeat it once, and then sing and repeat three new taleae. In another Christmas motet by Grenon, the three-part Nova vobis gaudia, the voices signal the end of each of the four isorhythmic sections with cries of ‘Noël’. Grenon’s sole extant mass setting, a Gloria, survives incomplete.

The text of the anonymous motet Argi vices/Cum Pilemon that praises the antipope John XXIII and opens the Aosta codex credits the music to a certain ‘Nicolao’. De Van tentatively identified this as Nicolaus Zacharie; but Cobin has argued that a more plausible candidate would be Grenon, and the occasion the opening of the Council of Konstanz, 5 November 1414. The work shares with Grenon's ascribed motets panisorhythm throughout, though its tenor has no diminution or pitch-repetition – a feature it shares with Du Fay's Vasilissa ergo gaude of 1419. On balance, Grenon seems the more likely composer, particularly in view of similarities in his Ad honorem Sancte Trinitatis.

Craig Wright

Monday, October 12, 2009

Silvius Leopold Weiss

On his birthday anniversary. Weiss was a great influence to Johann S. Bach for the originality of his suites. A great number of these suites can be found in the London Manuscript.

Weiss was born in Breslau [now Wrocław], 12 October 1686; and died in Dresden, 16 October 1750). A son of Johann Jacob Weiss, he was trained by his father and in his seventh year he performed for Emperor Leopold I. By 1706 he was in the service of Count Carl Philipp of the Palatinate, who was then resident in Breslau. His earliest datable sonata, no.7 (1706), was written while he was on a visit to the court of the count’s brother in Düsseldorf. He spent 1710–14 in Italy with the Polish Prince Alexander Sobiesky. The prince lived in Rome with his mother Queen Maria Casimira, who engaged first Alessandro and later (1709) Domenico Scarlatti as her music director. Thus Weiss doubtless worked with the Scarlattis, and probably was exposed to the music of Corelli and other composers in Rome. After the prince’s death in late 1714 Weiss returned to the North. He reentered the service of Carl Philipp, now Imperial Governor of the Tyrol, perhaps as early as 1715. By 1717 he was listed as a member of the chapel at the Saxon court in Dresden. He was formally appointed to the chapel in August 1718 with a high salary, and by 1744, he was the highest-paid instrumentalist at the court. Weiss’s activity as a performer nearly came to a premature end when in 1722 he was attacked by a French violinist named Petit who attempted to bite off the top joint of his right thumb. Handwritten notes by Weiss found in continuo parts to operas by J.A. Hasse which were performed at court between 1731 and 1749, suggest that Weiss was regularly involved in ensemble performance (see Burris); this activity may have been as important as his duties as a solo performer.

Weiss’s travels took him to many other courts for short visits. He was in Prague in 1717 (and again in 1719); in September 1718 he was sent in the company of the Saxon Crown Prince Frederick Augustus with eleven of the court's best musicians to Vienna where again he played for the Emperor. In 1722 he performed at the Bavarian court in Munich with the flautist P.G. Buffardin. Together with Quantz and C.H. Graun, Weiss went to Prague in 1723 to play in the orchestra in Fux’s opera Costanza e fortezza celebrating the coronation of Charles VI. In 1728, along with Pisendel, Quantz and Buffardin, he accompanied Elector August to Berlin, where he made a profound impression on the future King Frederick the Great and his sister Wilhelmine, herself an accomplished lutenist, to whom Weiss gave lessons. Weiss was much in demand throughout his career as a teacher of both amateurs and professionals. He taught Prince Philipp Hyacinth Lobkowitz and his wife in Bohemia and Vienna and in Dresden he trained several distinguished professional lutenists, including Adam Falckenhagen and Johann Kropfgans. With Kropfgans he visited J.S. Bach in Leipzig in 1739; this was likely not their first meeting nor their last since Bach came numerous times to Dresden to see his son Wilhelm Friedemann and to hear the court musicians. Despite his high salary, Weiss’s material circumstances may not have been particularly comfortable. He married Maria Elizabeth (c1700–59) about the time of his appointment in Dresden and together they had 11 children. At his death seven of them were still living and his impoverished widow appealed to the Elector for aid.

Both as virtuoso performer and as composer Weiss can be regarded as the greatest lutenist of the late Baroque and a peer of keyboard players such as J.S. Bach and Domenico Scarlatti. He left the largest corpus of music for lute of any composer in the history of the instrument. Most of the hundreds of pieces which survive are grouped into six-movement sonatas with the sequence allemande, courante, bourrée, sarabande, minuet and gigue (or allegro). The structure of these sonatas, called Suonaten or Partien, remained remarkably unchanged from the earliest to the latest period, although substitutions for one or more of the movements are common. Some begin with an unbarred prelude or a fantasia; Weiss’s practice was probably to improvise the prelude and most were never written down. The style of Weiss's music is, like Bach’s, a German fusion of French and Italian influences. It is not as densely contrapuntal or chromatic as Bach's – the baroque lute (particularly the diatonic arrangement of the basses) does not permit it – but Weiss’s harmonic usage is highly sophisticated and involves modulations to remote keys, particularly in the later works, by means of diminished seventh chords and enharmonic changes. His allemandes and sarabandes are often serious or melancholy while the fast movements are exhilarating, displaying a virtuosity which, like Corelli’s, serves the forward drive of the music rather than the desire to dazzle. In his own day he was famous for his ‘Weissian method’ of playing (Baron), which probably refers to his masterly fingerings and idiomatic legato style. In the course of his career Weiss wrote increasingly extended movements and began to coordinate thematic motifs with the harmonic structure in a manner strikingly similar to Classical sonata form. Bach clearly had great respect for Weiss’s sonatas since he arranged no.47 as a duo for harpsichord and violin (BWV 1025), composing new material for the violin part and constructing an introductory fantasia using lutenistic motifs that may stem from Weiss. As well as solo sonatas, Weiss is known (from Breitkopf's and other catalogues) to have composed several concertos and much chamber music for the lute and a number of lute duets; unfortunately none of these concerted pieces has survived in complete form. Occasionally a single tablature lute part has been discovered; in such cases only speculative reconstruction is possible.

Edward R. Reilly

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

João Gomes

Was born in Veiros, 1570 and died in Vila Viçosa, 3 November 1643. According to Barbosa Machado he was a pupil of António Ferro at Portalegre and died in 1653 at Vila Viçosa, where he was treasurer of the ducal chapel. However, the parish register from Vila Viçosa,Livro dos óbitos da Matriz, xi) documents the death on 3 November 1643 of ‘P. João Gomes tizoreyro da capella, está enterrado em São Paulo’. In the Mercês de D. Teodósio II Gomes is described as ‘chaplain and singer’ at the ducal court, receiving payments between 28 August 1594 and 5 February 1616. One of these, for 3000 reis in 1609, was for chançonetas for the previous Christmas, and an entry dated 8 October 1618 refers to his annual salary of 66,000 reis. He may have acted as mestre de capela after the departure of Pinheiro (before 1608) and before Roberto Tornar took up the post in 1616. He is unlikely to have been the ‘cantor contralto’ who served at the royal chapel in Lisbon from 1595 to 1609, though he may possibly have been the ‘portugués contrabajo’ who deputized for the absent ‘bajón’ at the nearby Spanish city of Badajoz at Christmas 1598. A setting of Lumen ad revelationem (dated 1610) shows him to have been at least a competent contrapuntist. Gomes moved to Évora Cathedral, where he rose to the position of treasurer. On the title-page of a manuscript volume of chants edited by him, he is described as having been at Vila Viçosa, where the chants had been sung. A Libera me and several villancicos also survive in Évora, though it is uncertain whether these are by him or by another João Gomes listed as second organist at Évora Cathedral in 1651. A six-part motet ascribed to João Gomes, Subvenite sancti Dei (now lost), was in the library of João IV.

Michael Ryan

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Machaut - La Messe de Nostre Dame














Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Soon on Atrium Musicologicum... #6

Hello to all!
First of all I have to thank the 18.000 visitors so far. That means a lot to me: means that this new endeanvor that I took some years ago is getting usefull to a lot of people all over the world.

I haven't posted much material here since last June. The fact is that I've been with a lot of work in my hands. It doesn't look so good in the near future.

I hope to finish the posting of the articles related to the franco-flemish school (which is almost done) and to pass to Italian composers of the Renaissance (rather than the gigantic Palestrina). I'm also planning to expand the section of Portuguese composers, especially in the Manneirism period.

There is also the Cantigas project, which is more and more away from being realized. Meanwhile , I'm posting a few YouTube videos of works which I consider interesting, mostly from the Middle Ages.

Hope you enjoy
See you soon...

Pérotin - Viderunt Omnes



by the Hilliard Ensemble...

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Ensemble Organum

The Organum Ensemble was founded in 1982 by Marcel Pérès at Sénanque Abbay (France) and has been supported since 1984 by the Fondation Royaumont. The Ensemble develops programmes which combine the source material, in the form of musical scores, and the aesthetics of chanting preserved through oral traditions.

This approach has succeeded in infusing new life into medieval and early music. Of the long forgotten repertoires of the past only the written signs remain to indicate how the sound is produced. Yet this music now resounds with new inspiration.

Initially the ensemble was an instrument for the diffusion of the activities of ARIMM – Atelier pour la Recherche sur l’Interprétation des Musiques Médiévales – founded in 1984 by Marcel Pérès with the support of the Fondation Royaumont. In 1994 this group became CERIMM, Centre Européen pour la Recherche sur l’Interprétation des Musiques Médiévales.

In 2001, in response to the growing interest of researchers and the public in medieval music, Marcel Pérès transferred the offices of Organum to the Abbaye de Moissac, and created a new structure, the CIRMA – Centre Itinérant de Recherche sur les Musiques Anciennes – which aims to develop the same research, teaching, diffusion and publishing activities that were already underway with CERIMM in a context better adapted to the new cultural interests that are emerging at the dawn of the new millenium.

The Organum Ensemble invites you to consider a new approach to the past. In this approach historical facts are perceived as events emerging in a continuous flux. The centuries are no longer frontiers; each new event becomes the expression of a privileged moment in which traditions meet, mingle, fade, disappear or endure, remaining distinct and perennial.

The ensemble has studied and developed most of the influential European repertoires since the VIth century. The field of investigation stretches to the three last centuries of the second millenium, highlighting the existence of enduring medieval aesthetics in certain circles until the last decades of the XXth century.

The flexible structure of the ensemble makes it possible to call upon singers from a wide range of countries and backgrounds for each different repertoire.

The ensembles’s discography presents works that span a period from the dawn of christianity to the XVIIIth century, with occasional incursions into the XXth century in the form of vocal or instrumental expertise that is still alive in certain countries today.

The research programmes are organised in a transdisciplinary perspective. This broadens the fields of investigation and, apart from the acoustic pleasure alone, the music becomes the privilged tool for a reflection on the history of human mentality. The research sessions are given living expression in the form of concerts.

Entre Av'e Eva: The Cantigas de Santa Maria of Alfonso X "el Sabio"

Alfonso X (1221-1284), King of Castile and León, began his reign in a highly characteristic manner, by bringing together the staff of the University of Salamanca and explicity demanding que aya un maestro en organo (that there should be an organ teacher). He wanted academic studies to be complemented by artistic study. As a politician and a general he could look back on no great achievements, since the progress of the Reconquista had proved troublesome during his reign and court intrigues eventually cost him his throne, yet as a patron of the sciences and arts he won the title el Sabio (the Wise), by which he is remembered in history.

In the thirteenth century on the Iberian Peninsula there was hostility between Moslems and Christians in warfare, but in everyday life there was a great deal of religious tolerance and lively exchange between the two opposing cultures. At the court of Alfonso there were learned Arab, Jewish and Christian scholars, who, under his direction, wrote comprehensive works such as the General estoria (General History), a monumental history of the world (fragmentary) and the Siete partidas (Seven parts), a collection of laws. Special subjects were treated in the Libros del saber de astronomia (Books on the Science of Astronomy), El lapidario (The Book of Stones, Materials and Metals) and the Libros de ajedrez, damas y tablas (The Books of Chess, Draughts and Backgammon). These books today are seen as the foundation of Castilian prose-writing.

In addition to his other scholarly interests, Alfonso also concerned himself with the arts, especially with music; as a young man he had himself composed love-songs. Provençal and Italian troubadours were frequent visitor to the Castilian court and Alfonso served as their patron and provided protection from the Inquisition during the suppression of the Albigensians. The German minnesang also have found a place through Alfonso’s mother, Beatrix of Swabia. The monophonic and polyphonic repertoire of Notre Dame was cultivated in the same as the popular Cantigas de amigo, secular love-songs in Galician-Portuguese, the then poetic language. Music at court was not only performed by Christian musicians but also by Arab players with oriental dancers. In this varied musical life there appeared, with the cooperation and under the direction of Alfonso, the Cantigas de Santa Maria, a collection of more than four hundred monophonic songs. The musicologist Higinio Anglés noted in the preface to his edition of the Cantigas (1943-1964) that even if no other Spanish music of the period survived, this would have been enough to put Spanish music on a par with the music of the other cultured countries of medieval Europe.

The Cantigas have come down to us in four splendid manuscripts, three of them with notation. One of these is in the Spanish National Library in Madrid (N.º 10069), a second in the National Library in Florence (Banco rari 20) and two in the Escorial (B.j.2 and T.J.1). They are distinguished by the beauty of their miniatures, and by the special care taken with the notation, of material assistance in the reading of other medieval notation. The miniatures include representations of the king surrounded by scholars and of musicians from all countries and cultures. There are more than forty instruments depicted, fiddle, rebec, gittern, mandola, lute, psaltery, zither, harp, shawm, transverse and straight flute, trumpet, horn, bagpipe, portative organ, drums, castanets, cymbals, glockenspiel and symphonia, a unique compendium of medieval instruments. In the present recording some of these instruments are introduced as musical miniatures between the songs.

In the Cantigas de Santa Maria, also written in Galician-Portuguese dialect, a distinction can be made between the Cantigas de miragre, which recount the miracles brought about the Blessed Virgin, and the Cantigas de loor (qv. N.ºs 10, 60 and 340), poetic hymns in praise of the Virgin. Following strict order, every tenth song is a poetically expressed Cantiga de loor, arousing the most heartfelt religious feelings, and counterbalancing the sometimes trivial, amusing and exuberant stories of the Cantigas de miragre. These latter include, for example, the story of a quarrel between two minstrels, settled by means of a miraculous candle, which burns a foolish bishop who tries to get hold of it (N.º 259), of a man who is accused of killing his unfaithful wife and is rescued from his enemies who seek revenge (N.º 213); through a miracle a master-builder survives a fall from high scaffolding (N.º 249); on Christmas Eve a statue of the Blessed Virgin in a convent starts to move, as if in labour (N.º 361); in another story a priest who has made himself underwear from an altar-cloth is punished by the Virgin, who makes his legs grow the wrong way round; a man unable to eat for many weeks because of a rabbit-bone stuck in his throat vomits on the Feast of the Virgin and can eat again (N.º 322); the ailing caterpillar of a silk-spinner revives and produces silk again, after she vows that she will make a veil for the Virgin (N.º 18); the Virgin appears in a vision to a king who is devoted to her and bows to him (N.º 295). The Blessed Virgin appears to kings, beggars, merchants and thieves, peasants and sailors, monks and wandering musicians, and for them works small and great miracles that at the crucial moment bring peace and justice in hopeless situations. These many stories consist of legends handed down everywhere in Europe, tales of everyday happenings seen in a religious light, including events in the life of King Alfonso himself. […]

The music is as varied as the stories, noted down with great accuracy. Here can be found echoes of conductus, sequences and motets of the School of Notre Dame, of French lais, Provençal troubadour melodies, the Cantigas d’amigo and the folk-songs and dances of Galicia and Castile, a summary of contemporary musical culture.

Arabic influence may have some part in the genesis of the songs, although the tonality of the Cantigas (mainly Dorian and Mixolydian modes) and basic structure are European; the virelai serves as the basic form, already in use with the Latin conductus, and divided into refrain – mudanza – vuelta – refrain (AA-bb-aa-AA, as in N.º 361). This was probably performed by precentor and choir. This form appears, however, in many variations (N.º 10, with AB-ccdb-AB). In addition to the virelai there are, among other things, examples of rondeau, ballade, romance and free song-forms. The special feature of the Cantigas is that many of them use duple and triple rhythms in the same song (N.ºs 18 and 206). In the musical theory of the period the latter were associated with the Holy Trinity as tempus perfectum, and the former with the secular as tempus imperfectum. This peculiarity and the fact that these mixed forms employ both mensural and modal notation in alternation pose problems for the performer which can only be solved, as Higinio Anglès pointed out, by subjective musical sensibility.

In addition to the scope, the variety and other matters mentioned above, the Cantigas have another special feature. The veneration of the Blessed Virgin has its roots in the Eastern Orthodox Church, where she is regarded above all as a simple woman who has experienced all the joys and sorrows of motherhood. She is the intermediary for mankind and a model in her own soul into which the divine seed will descend. On icons she is generally depicted with the child in her arms. Even for the church fathers the Virgin existed in a reconciliation of opposites, with a relationship between Eva (Eve), the first woman, and Mary, greeted by the angel Gabriel with the salutation Ave Maria at the Annunciation. The fall of man was looked on as a source of joy, since it had enabled God to take on human flesh through Mary. O felix culpa, (O happy guilt), wrote St. Ambrose in the fourth century in his Easter Hymn.

The height of Marian devotion was reached in the West from the eleventh to the thirteenth centuries, with the Virgin as Queen of Heaven, next to the throne of God, removing her thus from everyday life as Gothic cathedrals rose towards the heavens. In paintings and statues she was often depicted as a separate figure, without Christ. Cathedrals echoed with hymns in her honour, while mundane activities, politics, school lessons, trade in goods and animals and even sexual intercourse took place at the same time in churches, a fact that can be gathered from prohibitions of such activities. At the high point of scholasticism and of these contradictions, man saw himself placed in a duality of disobedience and obedience, pride and humility, sensual seduction and dedication to God – between Eve (Eva) and Ave, as the contemporary pun, with its medieval notions of symmetry and proportion, suggested, while here there was no problem in the fact that Ave depended on the Latin translation of the angel’s salutation. This separation is even reflected in the clothing of the time, the mini-parti, with right and left sides in contrasting colours.

In order to bridge the gap between sacred and secular, many retreated into monasteries, while others succumbed to the widespread hysteria of dance epidemics. The Provençal troubadours had tried in courtly songs to sing of the adored lady’s divine qualities, combining contradiction, yet this had led to their persecution as heretics. As a troubadour of the Blessed Virgin, Alfonso wanted to renew the bonds that tied ordinary men of all classes to the spiritual world, the notion of such a bond implied in the very world religio, by means of his collection of songs, as is clear from the prologue. Everyman might find his own song which he could sing and dance in her honour (N.º 409). It may be imagined that the Cantigas were sung and danced in processions and churches, as they might be in inns for general amusement. They did not only give accounts of miraculous cures, but themselves brought such a cure of sickness and sin.

The value that Alfonso himself placed on the Cantigas can be seen in his last will and testament, devised shortly before his death: Furthermore we command that all books of the Cantares de loor de Santa Maria be kept in the church where our body shall be buried, and that they be sung on the festive days of the Virgin Mary.

Riccardo Delfino
Translation: Uta Henning

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Johannes de Fossa

Was born c1540 and died in Munich, 1603. Was a Flemish composer, active in Germany. The name suggests that he was a native of Fosses (in the province of Namur), a small town dependent on the principality of Liège. When he copied Guyot’s Te Deum he stated explicitly that he had been his pupil; he may well have studied under him at Liège for Guyot was choirmaster of St Paul there from 1546 to 1554 and of the cathedral from 1558 to 1563. Several musicians with the name ‘de Fossa’ figure in the archives at Liège; none, however, is called Johannes. A Johannes de Fossa is nevertheless mentioned in a letter from Duke Philibert of Savoy dated 12 January 1557. The first precise information known about Fossa is that in 1569 he was appointed second Kapellmeister at the Munich court. In 1571 he became master of the choristers and continued in the service of the Dukes of Bavaria until his death. After the death of Lassus in 1594 Fossa took responsibility for the chapel music and in 1597 he was given the official title of first Kapellmeister. On his retirement in 1602 he was succeeded by Ferdinand de Lassus, eldest son of Orlande.

Proske noted that in his compositions Fossa was influenced by Lassus, as one might expect, though not lacking a style and charm of his own.

José Quitin, Henri Vanhulst

Friday, June 19, 2009

Jacob Regnart

Was born Douai (?) between 1540 and 1545 and died in Prague, 16 October 1599. Regnart was a Flemish composer, active mainly in Austria and Bohemia. His German secular songs, especially those for three voices, were immensely popular, and he was also a notable composer of church music.

Regnart probably received his first musical education at Douai. He himself stated that he served the Habsburgs from 1557, no doubt at first as a chorister in the Prague Hofkapelle of Archduke Maximilian, which was directed by Jacobus Vaet. His name first appears in the household lists in 1560 as a tenor, with a monthly salary of seven guilders, which was raised to the standard 12 guilders in 1564, after Maximilian’s election as emperor – if not earlier. It was in that year too that music by him first appeared in print. He now worked in Vienna. He studied in Italy from 1568 to October 1570. The first of his own volumes of music to be published, Il primo libro delle canzone italiane (1574), was doubtless stimulated by this visit, and it was quickly followed by a number of other volumes, both sacred and secular. His growing reputation as a composer was matched by success in his professional and personal life at the imperial court during this period. On 1 November 1570 he was appointed music teacher to the chapel choristers; in 1571 he was given a coat-of-arms and in 1573 a salary rise. Following the disbanding of Maximilian’s household after his death in 1576, the Emperor Rudolf II made Regnart a member of his Hofkapelle, which soon moved to Prague; his monthly salary rose to 15 guilders. By October 1579 he had succeeded Alard Du Gaucquier as vice-Kapellmeister. He continued to publish a good deal of music at this time. In 1580 Lassus recommended him as Antonio Scandello’s successor as Kapellmeister to the Saxon court at Dresden, but he chose to remain with the Habsburgs.

Soon, however, Archduke Ferdinand persuaded Regnart to succeed Alexander Utendal as his vice-Kapellmeister, and he arrived at Innsbruck on 9 April 1582. He was now somewhat less prolific, but among his works during this period was music for a moralizing comedy by the archduke himself (1584). On 1 January 1585 he was appointed Kapellmeister. Under his direction music at the Innsbruck court was reorganized and considerably raised in standard, to general admiration; in particular, new Dutch singers were engaged, as well as Italian solo singers and instrumentalists. In 1588 he emphasized his commitment to Catholic reform with his motet collection Mariale, and another interesting print from this period is a joint collection of motets by Regnart and three of his brothers (1590: see §3 below). By now he was becoming a rich man: in 1589 he bought himself a house (now 21 Innstrasse) and a plot of land, and in 1597 and 1598 he was even able to lend large sums of money to the Tyrol revenue office. Archduke Ferdinand decided to elevate him to the nobility for his outstanding services; the archduke’s death in 1595 frustrated this intention, which was, however, realized by Archduke Matthias in 1596. After Ferdinand’s death the Hofkapelle was disbanded, but Regnart stayed at Innsbruck until at least 27 April 1596. By November of that year he had moved to Prague, where he again entered imperial service as vice-Kapellmeister, under Monte. From 1 January 1598 until his death he received a monthly salary of 20 guilders.

Regnart’s music continued to be highly regarded after his death and appeared in a number of anthologies up to 1655. It is also listed in several inventories of the 17th century, especially in Germany and Austria. Works by him were admired by Friedrich Weissensee in his Opus melicum (1602) and by Michael Praetorius in the third volume of his Syntagma musicum (1618, 2/1619), and he is mentioned in Joachim Burmeister’s Hypomnematum musicae poeticae (1599). Many epigrams were written in his honour by a wide variety of authors. He enjoyed his greatest success as a composer with his Teutsche Lieder for three voices. They originally appeared in three volumes over a short period of time (in 1574, 1577 and 1579), the first two being reprinted twice and the third once up to 1580. In 1584 the original publisher, Gerlach of Nuremberg, brought out a complete edition, which was twice reprinted up to 1593. A rival publisher, Berg of Munich, had anticipated Gerlach with a complete edition in 1583, and this went into five editions, the last appearing in 1611. Thus these songs were continually in print for a period of over 35 years; moreover, they appeared in several arrangements too, for example in tablatures by E.N. Ammerbach (1583), Gregor Krengel (1584) and Matthäus Waissel (1592). Leonhard Lechner arranged 21 of them for five voices (1579, 2/1586). Johannes Brassicanus quoted three of them in his quodlibet Was wölln wir aber heben an?, Paul Luetkeman published a pavan on Ohn dich muss in 1597, and Francesco Rovigo based a Magnificat on Venus, du und dein Kind (1583). Two much greater composers also turned to this last song: Lassus drew on it in his four-part lied Die Gnad kombt oben her, and Schein published in his Cantional of 1627 a contrafactum, Auf meinen lieben Gott, which later found its way into Protestant hymnbooks, leading in turn to countless arrangements over many years.

These three-part songs were not only phenomenally popular but also highly important for the development of the lied. Regnart announced on all the title-pages that they were ‘in the style of napolitane or Italian villanellas’. His achievement in these songs lay in bringing the genre, which with other composers still adhered to the imitative style of classical vocal polyphony, closer to the popular style of the villanella. Italian influence is especially evident in the first book, but all of the songs display the essential features of the villanella – dancelike rhythms, moments of homophony, simple harmony and melodies (the latter often confined to the top voice in the texture), as well as parallel 5ths. In his Opusculum bipartitum (1624 2/1625) Joachim Thuringus classified them as ‘sortisatio’, which Johannes Nucius (in his Musices poeticae, 1613) described as a combination of ‘usus’ and ‘ars’, since it was cultivated by both artisans and the best court musicians. This is a useful indication of how to view these songs, which have frequently been condemned, both for their partly erotic content and for their compositional errors; they have also been altered and ‘improved’ as well as compared unfavourably with the apparently more ‘artistic’ tricinia of composers such as Ivo de Vento and Leonhard Lechner. Textually, the departure from normal German octosyllabic verse and the almost exclusive use in the first volume (1576) of Italian poetic forms – for example the decasyllabic or hendecasyllabic triplet with the rhyme pattern AAA, ABA, ABB, or else the six-line hexasyllabic or heptasyllabic, divided into three couplets with the rhyme pattern AA, BB, CC – indicate the extent to which Regnart was influenced by his Italian models; this influence is less marked, however, in the second and third books (1577–9). Regnart’s success in cultivating this popular genre was far greater than that of his contemporaries, Lassus included. In the preface to his 1576 volume he acknowledged that this was an unpretentious kind of music, and Lechner’s madrigalian arrangements for five voices can almost certainly be seen as an attempt to enhance their status in the sphere of art music.

Of Regnart’s four-part lieder (1591) only the treble part survives. Its melodic structure suggests that they were similar in style to his tricinia: they were not reprinted, however, indicating that they enjoyed less popularity. The five-part songs (1580), which were reprinted once, are quite different. Osthoff (1938), who rightly called them ‘by far the most important monuments of the polyphonic lied’, equally rightly saw them as ‘the closest approximation until then of the choral lied to the madrigal’. They are full of the refinement and polyphonic artistry that Regnart deliberately shunned in his three-part pieces. The two volumes of canzone italiane (1574–81) can also for the most part be classified as madrigals; the first volume was twice reprinted, and both volumes appeared in German translation in 1595.

Regnart’s sacred works have generally received far less attention. Yet they form the greater part of his extant music, and in them he again displayed his outstanding ability. In particular he made masterly use of the possibilities of musical rhetoric, and skilfully employed music to underline the meaning of his chosen texts; his Mariale (1588) in particular is one of the most notable products of the Counter-Reformation.

Jacob had four brothers, all of whom were born in Douai at unknown dates; it is not known where and when they died. All worked as musicians within the church: Charles and Pascasius served in the court chapel of Philip II of Spain between 1562 and 1565, the former as a soprano, the latter as a chaplain. Augustin, a canon at St Pierre, Lille, edited Novae cantiones sacrae (Douai, 1590¹0), a collection of 40 motets by the brothers; best represented within the anthology, with 24 motets, is françois Regnart, who studied at the University of Douai before securing ecclesiastical and courtly positions at Tournai.

Walter Pass

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Orlando di Lasso

Was born in Mons (Hainaut) 1530 or, more probably, 1532 and died in Munich, 14 June 1594. He was one of the most prolific and versatile of 16th-century composers, and in his time the best-known and most widely admired musician in Europe.

Lassus was born at Mons in Hainaut, a Franco-Flemish province notable for the number of distinguished musicians born and trained there during the Renaissance. Nothing definite is known of his parents, nor is there any solid proof that he was a choirboy at the church of St Nicholas – much less for the legend that he was three times abducted because of the beauty of his voice. The first known fact about him, attested to by his contemporary and earliest biographer, Samuel Quickelberg, is that at about the age of 12 he entered the service of Ferrante Gonzaga, a cadet of the Mantuan ducal house and a general in the service of Charles V. Gonzaga was in the Low Countries in summer 1544; when he headed south the boy Lassus presumably accompanied him. After a stop near Paris (Fontainebleau) Gonzaga returned to Italy at the beginning of 1545; he stayed in Mantua until mid-September, before proceeding to Sicily. Thus Lassus’s first experience of Italy was at the Mantuan court. From Palermo, Gonzaga went as imperial governor to Milan, where Lassus apparently spent the years 1546–9. It is likely that at this time he met other musicians in the service of the Gonzagas, particularly Hoste da Reggio, a madrigalist who headed whatever musical establishment Ferrante Gonzaga maintained.

According to Quickelberg, Lassus next went to Naples (early in 1549), where he entered, informally, the service of Constantino Castrioto and lived in the household of G.B. d’Azzia della Terza, a man of letters. It is thought that Lassus began to compose while in Naples (though there may be a few pieces from the Milanese period), and that the villanescas printed in Antwerp in 1555 may have been written at this time. From Naples he went, at the end of 1551, to Rome; after a period in the household of Antonio Altoviti, Archbishop of Florence but then resident in Rome, he became maestro di cappella at S Giovanni in Laterano in spring 1553. Although young and as yet not well known as a composer – at least in print – Lassus must by this time have acquired a certain reputation as a musician in order to get a post such as this.

A little over a year later Lassus left Rome, for a visit to his parents who were ill, but they were already dead by the time he arrived. His whereabouts for a short period after this are unknown, and it has been claimed, though not proved, that he visited France and England in the company of the singer-diplomat-adventurer G.C. Brancaccio. Early in 1555 (possibly by autumn, 1554) Lassus was in Antwerp. Although he is not known to have held any official post, he seems to have made friends quickly there, with prominent figures such as Antoine Perrenot de Granvelle and with helpful people such as the printers Tylman Susato and Jean de Laet; he may have worked as a corrector in Susato’s shop. In 1555 Susato printed what has been called Lassus’s ‘op.1’, a collection of ‘madrigali, vilanesche, canzoni francesi e motetti’ for four voices; meanwhile Antonio Gardane in Venice had issued Lassus’s first book of five-part madrigals. In 1556 the first book of five- and six-part motets appeared in Antwerp; it seems that Lassus had waited to publish his music until he had accumulated a substantial number of pieces. How much other music he had written up to this time we do not know; but it is probable that some of the madrigals appearing in Antonio Barrè’s Roman anthologies of the late 1550s date from Lassus’s stay in Rome, that at least one mass, the Missa ‘Domine secundum actum meum’, was written before 1556, and that the Sacrae lectiones novem ex propheta Iob, though not printed until 1565, belong to this period. The Prophetiae Sibyllarum, a collection of highly chromatic settings of humanistic Latin texts that was not published until after Lassus’s death although it had periods of notoriety during his lifetime – including the amazed response of Charles IX of France in 1571 – may also belong to Lassus’s Italian years (it survives in a manuscript containing a portrait of the composer at the age of 28).

In 1556 Lassus received and accepted an invitation to join the court of Duke Albrecht V of Bavaria in Munich. The circumstances of this appointment are not clear, but it is evident that Johann Jakob Fugger and Granvelle were involved, and that Dr Seld, the imperial vice-chancellor at Brussels, played a part in the negotiations (having first recommended Philippe de Monte for the post). Lassus was engaged as a tenor in a chapel headed by Ludwig Daser; a half-dozen other newly engaged Flemish singers also arrived in Munich in 1556–7, the result of a deliberate plan to ‘netherlandize’ a chapel which had perhaps come to seem too provincially German in character (Albrecht V’s ambitions to revitalize his chapel may have been spurred by news of the dissolution of Charles V’s chapel in 1555).

Lassus may not have been altogether happy during his first years in Munich; he may indeed have cast about for another position, as some correspondence with Granvelle indicates. His salary began to rise, but as late as 1568 he was still referred to in the chapel records as ‘cantor’ and ‘tenor 2us’. On the other hand the title-pages of prints such as the Libro quarto de madrigali for five voices of 1567 referred to him as maestro di cappella of the Bavarian court. Whether for musical reasons or political and religious ones (Daser was a Protestant and Albrecht V, who had for some time tolerated and even encouraged reformers in Bavaria, had turned back to Catholicism, sending a representative to the Council of Trent in 1563), Lassus, who appears to have remained Catholic though he was no Counter-Reformation zealot, took over the leadership of the chapel when Daser was pensioned in 1563, a position he was to hold for 30 years. During this period the make-up of the chapel changed as more and more Italians were recruited. There was much fluctuation in numbers of singers and instrumentalists, the highpoint being reached in 1568 at the time of the young Duke Wilhelm’s marriage, the low occurring after the latter’s accession to the throne in 1579. But Lassus’s position ended only with his death, and so firm was his hold on it that it could be inherited by his two sons in turn; in 1629 a grandson still represented the family in the chapel.

Lassus’s duties included a morning service, for which polyphonic masses, elaborate or simple as the occasion required, were prepared. Judging from his enormous output of Magnificat settings, Vespers must have been celebrated solemnly a good deal of the time. It is less clear for what services much of the repertory of motets was created, though many could have fitted into celebrations of the Mass and Offices. Music for special occasions was provided by the ducal chapel; this included state visits, banquets for which ‘Tafelmusik’ was customary and hunting parties. Indeed Albrecht’s love of musical display and his munificence towards musicians was much criticized in some court quarters. In addition Lassus supervised the musical education of the choirboys; he saw to the copying of manuscripts and perhaps to the collection of printed music for the ducal library. He also became a friend and companion to the duke and especially to his heir, the future Wilhelm V.

In 1558 Lassus married Regina Wäckinger, the daughter of a Bavarian court official. Among their children two sons, were to become musicians. He settled into what seems to have been a stable and comfortable existence, apparently one that he never seriously considered changing. This was varied by journeys undertaken at ducal behest. Thus in 1560 he went to Flanders to recruit singers; in 1562 he was in Prague for the coronation of the Archduke Maximilian as king of Bohemia, and in Frankfurt for the latter’s enthronement as ‘king of the Romans’. Andrea Gabrieli joined Lassus’s chapel for this visit, and may have remained in Munich for a year or two thereafter. In 1567 Lassus was in northern Italy, visiting Ferrara and Venice – and reminding Italians that, as he said in the dedication to his fourth book of five-part madrigals, good Italian music could be written even in far-off ‘Germania’.

Lassus’s fame was steadily growing, at home and abroad. He began, perhaps at the duke’s request, to collect and put in order his own compositions, particularly the motets. The Venetian and Flemish printers who published his first works continued to issue madrigals, chansons and sacred music; in the 1560s Berg in Munich, Montanus and Neuber in Nuremberg (now Nürnberg), and Le Roy & Ballard in Paris began to print individual works, then series of volumes devoted to the music of the man becoming known as ‘princeps musicorum’ and the ‘divin Orlande’.

In 1568 Lassus played an important part in the festivities for the wedding of Wilhelm V with Renée of Lorraine; in addition to composing music and supervising performances he is said to have performed the role of a ‘magnifico’ in an Italian comedia dell’arte. He was becoming something of a genuine ‘magnifico’: in 1570 Maximilian II conferred upon him a patent of nobility; in 1571 and again in 1573 and 1574 he visited the French court at the invitation of Charles IX; in 1574 he was made a Knight of the Golden Spur by Pope Gregory XIII. Such honours were rarely bestowed on musicians. Still, Lassus was content to remain in Munich; there seems to be no proof that in 1574 he seriously thought of moving to France, and turned back only on hearing of the death of Charles IX.

Lassus was in Venice and Vienna for brief periods; in 1574 he visited Trent, Mantua, Bologna, Rome and Naples. His motet Domine Jesu Christe was awarded first prize at Evreux in 1575; he won again in 1583 with the Cecilian motet Cantantibus organis. He may have had as a pupil Giovanni Gabrieli, who was in Munich during the 1570s. From these years a charming correspondence between the composer and Duke Wilhelm, Albrecht’s son and heir, survives; these letters, and some correspondence between Wilhelm and his father, are proof of the high regard felt by both men for Lassus. Before his death, Albrecht V made provisions that the composer was to receive his salary for the rest of his life. The five magisterial volumes of sacred works called Patrocinium musices appeared during these years, and numerous reprints of his earlier music testify to Lassus’s continuing popularity all over Europe.

On the accession of Wilhelm V in 1579 the ducal chapel was much reduced in size. Whatever Lassus may have felt about this, he did not consider leaving. Refusing an invitation (1580) to succeed Antonio Scandello in Dresden, he wrote to the Duke of Saxony that he did not want to leave his house, garden and other good things in Munich, and that he was now beginning to feel old. His activity as a composer did not diminish, however; the years 1581–5 are marked by a number of new publications, of masses, Magnificat settings, motets, psalms and German lieder. He made a brief visit to Verona in 1582. In 1584 Ferdinand Lassus took over some of his father’s duties, and the next year Lassus made a pilgrimage to Loreto. On this journey he visited Ferrara, where he heard new Italian music of an advanced style. The conservatism of his own later music was the result of deliberate choice, viewed by the composer himself with some wryness, and not because of ignorance of what was happening in Italy.

Although Lassus’s final years were marked by some poor health and by a ‘melancholia hypocondriaca’ for which he sought the help of a physician, Thomas Mermann, he continued to write music, if only intermittently. Shortly before his death he dedicated to Pope Clement VIII his last cycle of compositions, the Lagrime di S Pietro, adding to it a seven-voice motet, Vide homo quae pro te patior.

A series of letters from Lassus to Duke Wilhelm, son and heir of Albrecht V, survives. The letters, dated between 1572 and 1579 and for the most part written from Munich to the duke’s establishment at Landshut, are celebrated for their mixture of languages, passing back and forth from a playful, half-macaronic Latin to Italian, French and German. A few are partly in doggerel verse, strengthening the supposition that Lassus wrote some of his own texts for occasional and humorous pieces. The tone of these letters and their amusing signatures (‘Orlando Lasso col cor non basso’; ‘Orlandissimo lassissimo, amorevolissimo’; ‘secretaire publique, Orlando magnifique’) show Lassus to have been on terms of easy familiarity with Wilhelm. There are occasional references to music, as in a letter of 22 March 1576, when he wrote: ‘I send a copy of Io son ferito; if it seems good to you, I will hope to hear my work at Landshut or elsewhere’ (this must refer to Lassus’s mass written on Palestrina’s well-known madrigal and published in 1589). Wilhelm apparently knew a good deal about music and liked to talk about it; thus Lassus could send him a letter (11 March 1578) entirely made up of musical puns and jokes, mentioning other composers such as Rore, Clemens non Papa and Arcadelt, and referring jokingly to musical terms, as in the description of ‘una baligia senza pause, coperta di passagi di molte cadenze fatte in falso bordone a misura di macaroni’ (‘a valise without rests, covered with passage-work of many cadences made from falsobordoni the size of macaroni’). These letters suggest that Lassus had read Italian epistolary writers such as Pietro Aretino and Antonfrancesco Doni; they confirm his reputation as – when the occasion required and perhaps when the mood was on him – an amusing friend and boon companion.

The earliest surviving printed volume devoted entirely to masses by Lassus, issued by Claudio Merulo in Venice in 1570 (1570e), is a ‘volume two’; an earlier first volume must have existed. Some of Lassus’s masses belong to the first years of his residence in Munich in the late 1550s; the latest, a five-voice mass based on Gombert’s Triste départ, was written as a kind of valedictory gesture near the end of his life. The 60 or so masses known to be authentic (there are a number of doubtful works in this genre) make up a not inconsiderable part of his oeuvre. Since their publication in the new Lassus edition, the traditional view that Lassus’s masses are of peripheral importance in his work, and indeed of largely perfunctory character, has been modified. Certainly they were not considered of negligible value during the late 16th and early 17th centuries. Although no single mass attained the popularity of some of the more celebrated motets, many were reprinted during and after his lifetime; several groups were included in the Patrocinium musices; and Le Roy & Ballard’s resplendent Missae variis concentibus ornatae of 1577–8 (1577b) suggests that the Parisian publishers planned (although they did not carry out) a complete edition of his masses.

Most of Lassus’s settings are parody masses, based on motets (chiefly his own), French chansons (by Gombert, Willaert, Monte and members of the Parisian school), or Italian madrigals (by Sebastiano Festa, Arcadelt, Rore and Palestrina). They provide a highly instructive anthology of the techniques of parody. His rearrangement and recomposition of his own music, as in the Missa ‘Locutus sum’, show Lassus’s technical prowess; his striking transformation of a rather simple model, such as Daser’s motet for the Missa ‘Ecce nunc benedicite’, illustrates his ability to raise the level of music of his lesser contemporaries. More remarkable still is the sensitivity he displayed in adapting secular models as diverse as Arcadelt’s Quand’io pens’al martire, the densely polyphonic texture of Gombert’s chansons, and the supple and subtle flow of Rore’s madrigals. The masses based on these pieces are reminiscent of their models in style yet show no musical incongruity or technical strain. A work like the Missa ‘Qual donna attende’, based on Rore’s distinguished madrigal, must have provided a rich treat for connoisseurs of this genre.

At the other extreme in Lassus’s masses are the short, syllabic missae breves. Some of these are parodies of works, like Sermisy’s La, la, maistre Pierre, themselves in concise syllabic style. The shortest of all these works is the ‘Jäger’ Mass or Missa venatorum, a work designed for a brief service on days the court spent hunting. Some of the masses based on plainchant are of this succinct type; an exception is the impressive five-voice Missa pro defunctis with its curious bass intonations. Whether or not because they fit post-Tridentine ideas about music for the Mass (Lassus is known to have been stubborn about changing things at Munich to conform to new ideas coming from Rome), some of the shortest and simplest of Lassus’s masses were among his most popular works in the genre. It should be stressed, however, that these works do not represent him fully or entirely characteristically as a composer of masses.

Lassus’s four Passions are responsorial and of the kind cultivated by north Italian composers throughout most of the 16th century. In two of them (the St Matthew and St John) the words of the turbae and of the various individuals are set polyphonically, the first group for five-part chorus and the second for solo duos and trios; the words of Christ and the evangelists’ narrative are to be chanted. The Passions according to St Mark and St Luke are shorter works in which chordal polyphony is provided only for the turbae. In the St Matthew Passion, first published in 1575, a clear stylistic distinction is made between the music of the turbae – chordal successions with ponderously decorated cadences – and the supple imitative style of the duos and trios used for the words of Peter, Judas and other characters. This work enjoyed great and lasting popularity. Various later Passions borrowed from it, and a manuscript dated 1743, complete with added thoroughbass part, shows that it was still performed 150 years after its composition. The other three Passions survive only in manuscript, with convincing though not absolutely definitive attributions to Lassus.

Lassus’s more than 100 settings of the Magnificat, all but ten of them collected in a posthumous edition (1619) by his son Rudolph, far outnumber those of any other 16th-century composer (Palestrina, for example, wrote 35). Their wide circulation in print and manuscript is testimony to their lasting popularity; only those of Morales had anything like this success. All but a few are alternatim settings of the even verses, leaving the odd verses to be chanted, as was customary, or perhaps played on the organ.

In 1567 Lassus published three cycles each containing a six-verse setting for all eight tones (1567b). He went on to write at least two more such cycles; all are based on the appropriate chant tones of the Magnificat, with widely varied use of cantus-firmus technique. Some 60 settings use the psalmodic tones; a number of others have monophonic tunes used as cantus firmi. He respected the Magnificat tones in his choice of mode, and tended not to embellish the cantus firmus when using it intact; but no brief description could do justice to the flexible virtuosity with which the time-honoured device of the cantus firmus is used in these works. There is of course much integration of cantus firmus with other voices through melodic paraphrase and contrapuntal imitation.

A Magnificat parodying Rore’s celebrated madrigal Ancor che col partire was published in the collection of 1576. Some 40 of the Magnificat settings appearing in subsequent years are parody works; Lassus was the first to make consistent use of parody technique in this genre, and he seems to have liked using the procedure almost as much as he did in the masses. His own motets (and an occasional chanson) were favoured sources, but he ranged widely through 16th-century literature, from Josquin (whose Praeter rerum seriem served as model for a magnificently elaborate six-voice work) to Striggio and Vecchi, from motets to madrigals. As in the masses, parody technique is used here in an almost bewilderingly varied fashion, and with a sure instinct for blending the style of the model with that of the ‘copy’.

Lassus’s settings of the Magnificat vary greatly in length and complexity, from concise settings resembling falsobordoni to resplendently contrapuntal works over 200 bars long. His tendency to write more compact, harmonically conceived works in his later years may be seen in these pieces, but not in any easily predictable way. The opening and closing verses are generally closer to their melodic or contrapuntal models, the middle verses correspondingly freer. All voices respect to some degree the bipartite structure of the psalm verses.

There are a large number of liturgical and quasiliturgical works in other genres. Some were printed in the composer’s lifetime: the mass propers for Christmas, Easter and Pentecost in the third volume of the Patrocinium musices (1574); the Christmas Lessons of volume iv (1575) in that series; the Lamentations of Jeremiah, some of which were printed in 1585; the Lessons from Job (two sets, printed in 1565 and 1582); and the seven Psalmi Davidis poenitentiales (printed in 1584 but composed much earlier). Posthumously published works include 12 litanies (1596; four others survive in manuscript copies). None of these works was included in the Magnum opus musicum (1604) and therefore none appear in Haberl’s edition. All have now been published in the new collected edition.

An important category of Office polyphony in Lassus’s works is the Nunc dimittis. 13 settings survive, none of them ever printed: five, based on chant, date from about 1565, and eight (not all confirmed as genuine), parody works based on motets and madrigals, from the last period of his life. Still other groups of liturgical pieces survive only in manuscript and were apparently never printed (they were perhaps considered in a way the private property of the Bavarian court chapel): these include a group of falsobordoni, an important hymn cycle written after local adoption of the Roman hymn sequence in 1581, and a group of responsories (from the 1580s).

In motet composition, as in the writing of madrigals, Lassus began by assimilating the styles fashionable in Italy in his youth. Rore and the Roman school around Barrè seem the two most important of these influences, as seen in the carefully conceived declamatory rhythms in all voice parts. The bold yet tonally controlled chromaticism of motets such as Alma nemes, and the use of distinctive, finely chiselled thematic material in Audi dulcis [filia] amica mea (both printed in 1555), certainly show that Lassus knew Rore’s work. The motets of the Roman and Antwerp years, as well as those of the first decade in Munich, are dazzlingly virtuoso in invention and the handling of vocal textures. Videntes stellam, a two-section motet for five voices printed in 1562, is a good example of Lassus’s brilliant early style. The melodic material, distantly derived from a Magnificat antiphon for Epiphany week, transforms gentle hints in the chant into dramatically descriptive motifs that rocket through the texture, a texture that is constantly varied but always clear, and always well grounded harmonically. It is no wonder that the composer of pieces such as this rapidly won for himself first place at the Bavarian court and an international reputation soon to surpass that of all his contemporaries.

Imitation plays a large role in the contrapuntal technique of Lassus’s early work, as does voice pairing; he did not of course observe these techniques as strictly as did Josquin’s generation, but neither did he favour the thick texture and close-set imitation cultivated by Gombert. Everywhere there is harmonic clarity and solidity, equally apparent in pieces such as the Prophetiae Sibyllarum, which use the chromatic vocabulary fashionable in the 1550s, as in completely diatonic works.

It has been said that Lassus made little use of canon or other constructivist elements. This is true in a statistical sense, but when he chose he could show off Netherlandish skills; for example, the seven-part In omnibus requiem quaesivi (published 1565) has a three-part canon, with one of the voices in contrary motion. Cantus-firmus writing is rarer in Lassus than in Palestrina, but on occasion Lassus could revert to the kind of cantus-firmus procedure used by Josquin and Obrecht; Homo cum in honore esset (six voices; published 1566) has a soggetto cavato as cantus firmus on the text ‘Nosce te ipsum’, heard successively in breves, semibreves and minims. In this eclectic revival of earlier techniques, and in many individual passages where archaisms such as fauxbourdon or use of outmoded long notes can be seen, Lassus may have been using elements of an older Netherlandish style for expressive reasons, making a musical allusion to support the meaning of a phrase of text.

Like all Lassus’s music, the motets are immensely varied in musical invention and expressive detail. Nonetheless a recognizable stylistic ‘set’ may be observed in all the motets of the period c1555–70: thematic originality is blended with a contrapuntal fluidity that, in less distinguished pieces, approaches formula; there is plenty of chordal declamation, always marked by strength and clarity of harmony; expressive word-painting abounds but does not dominate or upset the equilibrium of a piece; and a certain succinctness – the economy of utterance that was to become increasingly evident in Lassus’s later works – is noticeable (the famous six-part Timor et tremor, published 1564, is as surprising for brevity as it is celebrated for expressive power). Lassus’s capacity for obtaining iridescent changes of colour in the plainest of diatonic palettes through skilful vocal scoring, a trait very marked in his later works, is present in his early motets; it is indeed one of the most characteristic of his stylistic traits.

In his motets of the 1570s and 1580s, as in other works of this period, Lassus made much use of chordal declamation on short note values, varied by quickly alternating points of imitation of rather neutral melodic character. This ‘villanella’ style (see Boetticher), perhaps better termed ‘canzonetta style’, may indicate a desire for a more up-to-date vocabulary on Lassus’s part. If so, that is about as far as he went; the works of the last decade are less markedly declamatory, more complex in texture and marked by a certain denseness and concentration of style that is not so much progressive as it is highly individual, a final style seen to good advantage in the six-part Musica Dei donum optimi (published 1594), a moving tribute to the composer’s art (this text was also set by other 16th-century composers).

Although they cannot be categorized in any very neat way, Lassus’s motets can be divided roughly under a few general headings.

Didactic works

The 24 duos of 1577 (1577d) and many of the pieces for three voices must have been intended for students. In this the duos are particularly interesting. When compared with other famous 16th-century collections of duos such as those of Gero or of Lupacchino – both of them sets that were reprinted so often as to leave no doubt about their pedagogical usefulness – Lassus’s psalm settings and textless bicinia are surprising in their individuality of style: they are not generic counterpoint but rather illustrations of his own contrapuntal practice. They were popular enough to be reprinted and even to be ‘modernized’ (in a Parisian reprint of 1601 with an added third voice), but they did not rival Gero’s in longevity of use; they have about them too much of the finished and idiosyncratic composition, too little of the contrapuntal exercise. For Lassus’s own pupils they must have been of great value since the writing of duos was probably the most important part of a 16th-century composer’s training. It may be noted that the two-part pieces illustrate the D, E, F and G modes but not those of A and C; this supports the remark of Lechner, Lassus’s pupil, that his teacher used only the traditional eight modes.

Ceremonial motets

There are a surprising number of pieces written for special occasions or to honour rulers and dignitaries; these are mostly grouped together in the Magnum opus musicum, near the beginning or end of the divisions by number of voices. Some of them provide clues to the composer’s life; thus the five-part Te spectant Reginalde Poli (published 1556) may indicate that Lassus knew the English Cardinal Pole in Rome in the 1550s. Many occasional pieces honouring the Habsburgs and various secular and religious potentates throughout Germany were doubtless commissioned by the Bavarian court. By far the largest number of these are addressed to Albrecht V, to his eldest son and to other members of the ducal family (one of these, Unde revertimini, started its existence under a slightly different name as a work in praise of Henri d’Anjou, the future Henri III of France). They vary in length and scoring (from three to ten voices) but as a matter of course are uniformly bright and festive in nature. Some, like the nine-section Princeps Marte potens, Guilelmus, are little more than a series of acclamations (in this instance addressed to Wilhelm V, his bride, and members of the imperial and ducal families); others are in full polyphonic style. A distinguishing feature of Lassus’s ceremonial pieces honouring the Wittelsbachs is their personal tone, evident proof of the composer’s close relationship with his employers. This is seen in Multarum hic resonat, addressed to Wilhelm on his name day in 1571, and in Haec quae ter triplici, the dedicatory piece of a collection of motets for three voices (1575) honouring Albrecht’s three sons, on a text ending ‘Lassus mente animoque dicat’ (‘Lassus’ set to the composer’s musical signature of la–sol). Most appealingly personal of all is Sponsa quid agis, for five voices, thought to have been composed for Lassus’s marriage in 1558; here the colouristic harmony on the words ‘Non me lasciviae veneris’, in an otherwise diatonic framework, is a charming bit of musical allusion.

Humorous motets

Pieces with texts ranging from playfulness to burlesque are to be found among the works with Latin texts. Their music is appropriate and often witty in itself, but almost never broadly farcical; Lassus, rather like Mozart, tended to clothe his verbal jokes in exquisite musical dress. One exception is the travesty of ‘super flumina Babylonis’, beginning ‘SU-su-PER-per’ and proceeding haltingly and confusedly through both text and music, perhaps mocking the efforts of inexpert singers. Of a similar nature is Ut queant laxis, for five voices, in which the tenor sings the isolated notes of the hexachord between snatches of four-voice polyphony. In many apparently serious motets the tone-painting of individual words is so literal that one suspects a half-humorous intent, and occasionally one is sure of it: the concertato performance of motets is parodied in Laudent Deum cythara, in which five instrumental families are named, to music characteristic for each, in the space of a dozen bars (the total length of the piece).

There are drinking-songs in Latin in his output, as there are in German and French. These may be elaborate, as in the eight-part double chorus Vinum bonum. Perhaps the most amusing is the macaronic Lucescit jam o socii, whose independently rhymed series of alternating Latin and French lines sounds so much like some of the composer’s letters to Duke Wilhelm that Lassus must surely be author of both text and music.

Classical and classicistic texts

The ceremonial motets are full of classical phrases. Other pieces setting either classical texts (Virgil, Horace) or humanistic 16th-century verse are to be found; there is a whole group of these near the end of the five-part section of the Magnum opus musicum. Lassus made his contribution to the list of Renaissance composers who set Dido’s lament Dulces exuviae; his version is in correctly quantitative declamatory chords with little ornament, a style not far from that used for classical choruses (as in Andrea Gabrieli’s music for Edippo tiranno, 1588). Most of these pieces are less academic in character, closer to the composer’s normal motet style. There are, however, examples of almost completely literal quantitative settings; the five-voice setting of Tragico tecti syrmate coelites looks very much like the settings of Horatian odes used in German schools, a genre with which Lassus was evidently familiar. Related to this genre are the Prophetiae Sibyllarum, famous for their chordal chromaticism but also showing careful declamatory exactness in setting the curious half-Christian, half-pagan humanistic verse.

Religious works

There are hints of ordering within the liturgical calendar in sections of the Magnum opus musicum. The collection also has groupings by category such as hymns, Marian antiphons, Gospel or Epistle motets etc, which are convenient for study but of little help in determining liturgical usage. As Lassus’s sons included in their huge anthology a good many pieces which are motets only by virtue of being contrafacta of secular works, their methods of assemblage and editing appear too arbitrary to serve as the basis for study of the religious function of their father’s motets.

A large proportion of the motets must of course have been used in performance of the Mass and Offices in the court chapel. The number of settings of Marian antiphons, some of which are very elaborate, suggest that portions of the Office were sung with great solemnity. This is also true of settings of the Pater noster, the Ave Maria, and hymns included in the Magnum opus musicum; the six-part settings of Veni Creator Spiritus and Veni Sancte Spiritus are particularly resplendent. When one recalls that many of Lassus’s motet prints carried the rubric ‘apt for voices and instruments’ it is easy to imagine concerted performances of motets using some of the forces depicted in Hans Mielich’s miniature, which shows the court chapel as assembled for chamber performance. Among the motets appearing in tablatures, chiefly of German origin, are a group in Johannes Rühling’s keyboard book (1583) which are arranged in liturgical order for Sundays and great feast days throughout the year, and thus are clearly intended for use in the liturgy.

Whether motets on religious texts were used as liturgical works, for private devotional purposes or in concert is hard to determine. Marian antiphons, for example, could certainly have been used as devotional pieces. Style may offer some clue; the Gospel motets are severely conservative and thus ‘sound’ liturgical whereas the Epistle motets adjacent to them are highly expressive and thus appear devotional in character. The many psalm settings, some of them free compilations from various psalms (the celebrated Timor et tremor is among them), are difficult to judge in this regard. A thorough study of the liturgical practices at Munich might help to place many works whose function is now not clear.

The motets of Lassus were admired in their own day not only for their beauty and technical perfection but also for their rhetorical power – their ability to move the affections through the use of rhetorical devices transferred into musical idioms. Joachim Burmeister’s celebrated rhetorical analysis of In me transierunt (published 1562) in his Musica poetica (1606; an expanded version of the Musica autoschediastike, 1601) compares the motet to a classically ordered speech. 40 years earlier Quickelberg had praised Lassus’s ability to ‘describe an object almost as if it were before one’s eyes’. One has only to think of the many striking, sharply individualized openings of motets – the exordia of classical rhetoric – in Lassus’s work to see that both expressiveness and the rhetorician’s trick of catching attention can hardly be missed in this music. Whether the composer proceeded as deliberately, even pedantically, as Burmeister would have it may be doubted. However, if one recalls Lassus’s carefully precise declamation of classical texts it becomes clear that he knew something of the German didactic tradition linking music with the study of classical metres; it is not a large step from this to assume that he also knew how classical rhetoric was studied in the schools. The ‘speaking’ quality of much of this music cannot be a fortuitous property; it is not only expressive in a general sense but affective in a precise way, clearly perceptible to the composer’s contemporaries.

Madrigals

In the mixed print issued in Antwerp by Susato in 1555 and often referred to as Lassus’s ‘op.1’, there are seven madrigals for four voices showing the composer’s grasp of the genre as a result of his Italian, particularly his Roman, years. His poetic tastes – a quatrain and a canzone stanza of Petrarch, an ottava by Ariosto, a Sannazaro poem and a pastoral in sestina (a form he particularly liked) – are typical of the period. Del freddo Rheno, a complete sestina rather in the style of the cyclic madrigals of Arcadelt and Berchem, opens the group on a note of simple tunefulness (this piece was popular with intabulators); in other madrigals the style varies from Willaert-like seriousness (Occhi piangete), through supple contrapuntal writing resembling Rore (Per pianto la mia carne), to the chordal declamation typical of the Roman madrigale arioso (Queste non son più lagrime). A certain clarity and succinctness of utterance are Lassus’s personal stamp; in other respects this collection is highly eclectic. These madrigals, together with a few others including the chanson-like Appariran per me le stell’in cielo, reappeared in Lassus’s first book of four-part madrigals, published by Dorico in Rome and then by Gardane in Venice, both in 1560. The strong resemblance of Lassus’s early madrigals to those of his contemporaries may be illustrated by the fact that one piece in this volume, Non vi vieto, credited to Lassus and included in Sandberger’s edition, is actually the work of Hoste da Reggio (if not a student work, written under the latter’s direction), part of a cycle in Hoste’s second book for four voices (1554). Lassus’s volume was a popular one, reprinted a dozen times over the next 30 years and supplying favourite materials for lutenists’ intabulations. Other early four-part madrigals appeared in Barrè’s Roman anthologies of madrigali ariosi.

Also highly successful, to judge by the frequency with which they were reprinted, were the first book for five voices, first issued by Gardane in Venice in 1555, and the second, printed by Barrè in Rome in 1557 after having long been held in private hands (so says the dedicatory letter of G.B. Bruno, who is known to have been in Rome in 1554). These madrigals and, in all probability, most of those in the third book for five voices (brought out by Barrè in Rome in 1563 after, says the publisher, a diligent search for works by Orlande) must have been written before Lassus’s departure from Rome in 1555. Petrarch dominates the first volume and is well represented in the others, with a six-section canzone cycle (Standomi un giorno) in a ‘narrative’, vibrantly declamatory style opening the second book.

The Petrarchan sonnets receive on the whole the most serious treatment, with sharply expressive thematic material in the tradition of Rore. Other forms such as the sestina, cyclic or in individual stanzas, are given lighter polyphonic dress; and the chordal declamation of the arioso madrigal may be seen (Bernardo Tasso’s Vostro fui vostro son). Some works, particularly a group near the end of the second book, are clearly in an easy, ‘popular’ style. Even the most ambitious Petrarchan settings, however, are marked by Lassus’s ever-present clarity of tonal palette and attractiveness of melody. These madrigals are distinguished by free use of material (there is little exact imitative writing) and by much variety of speed and character in declamation, despite the fact that the misura cromatica (?) is used in only a few pieces. They do not perhaps equal the work of Rore in intensity but they do rival the older master in variety of mood and seamless technical perfection – no mean achievement for a man in his twenties. The frequent choice of texts in which the word ‘lasso’ appears (in six pieces scattered through the three volumes), and the invariable la–sol setting it receives, suggest a youthful desire to ‘sign’ his works; Lassus as a young Roman clearly wanted the world to know who he was.

From the first decade in Munich come the contents of the fourth book for five voices, written to show, in the composer’s words, that the Muses were cherished and could flourish in ‘Germania’ as well as in Italy. Lassus visited Venice in May 1567; while there (when he was described in a letter as ‘lively and a good companion’) he saw to the printing of this fourth book, which he dedicated to Duke Alfonso II d’Este and then took to Ferrara to present to him. Lassus’s inclination towards the cyclic madrigal is again seen here; there is a complete sestina by Petrarch at the beginning, sonnets in two parts, and another sestina (Qual nemica fortuna oltra quest’ Alpe, on a text by Federico Asinari) that seems to combine local Ferrarese reference (the Po river) with a laboured geography-of-love image.

Lassus’s madrigal output slowed down after this, though he contributed to the anthologies of Bavarian court madrigals assembled by Troiano and Bottegari (1575). Whether a true ‘middle period’ in stylistic terms can be seen in these and other individual pieces appearing in various anthologies of the 1570s remains to be demonstrated.

In 1585 Lassus was again in Italy; the dedication of his volume of five-part madrigals printed in Nuremberg in that year (1585c, reissued in Venice in 1587 as the Libro quinto) is to the great Veronese patron Mario Bevilacqua, whose ridotto the composer may have visited in 1582. Here serious Petrarchan texts alternate with religious sonnets by Gabriel Fiamma. In style these madrigals, separated from the fourth book by nearly 20 years, show definite awareness of the newer Italian madrigal: not that of the chromaticists but rather that of Marenzio, with brief contrast motifs, declamation on short note values and counterpoint that is chiefly figured chordal progressions (Io che l’età più verde is an example). Lassus’s older style is not completely absorbed by these novelties, and in a few pieces his earlier madrigals are recalled (the sestina Quando il giorno). How well he could write in a newer style is demonstrated by the amusing La non vol esser più mia (published 1584), a work in fully-fledged canzonetta idiom.

The madrigals for four, five and six voices dedicated to Lassus’s friend the physician Thomas Mermann (Nuremberg, 1587) show some of the traits seen in the volume of 1585 but are more varied in style, often suggesting the compression and individuality of his late motet style. In this volume a five-section religious cycle to text by Beccuti (‘il Copetta’), Signor le colpe mie, has been shown (by Boetticher) to be missing its first stanza, Di terrena armonia, a piece for some reason printed separately in Continuation du mellange issued by Le Roy & Ballard in 1584.

At the very end of his life Lassus set the 21 ottava stanzas of Tansillo’s Lagrime di S Pietro. This cycle of seven-voice spiritual madrigals is one of the most remarkable artistic testaments in the history of music. Deliberately restrained in mood and character, planned as a magnificent tonal arch covering the whole range of 16th-century sound, the work is at once musically unified and expressively varied. Lassus’s lifelong habits of concision and balance, subordinating vivid declamation and rhetorical power to inexorable musical clarity, are here given their definitive statement. The transcendentally synthetic quality of this music, blending styles as diverse as the Prophetiae Sibyllarum and the late madrigals, stands in the sharpest possible contrast to what was in other hands already becoming the drily academic stile antico.

Among Lassus’s most popular Italian-texted works are the six four-voice villanescas in the ‘op.1’ of 1555 (these pieces are often found in anthologies of lute intabulations) and the contents of the Libro de villanelle, moresche, et altre canzoni for four, five, six and eight voices (Paris, 1581), a volume said by the composer to have been written in his old age when he should have known better. The famous Matona mia cara may serve as an example of pieces to be found in this volume, although some of the other pieces are equally amusing. All are reworkings of older material, following the time-honoured principle of using pre-existing melodies in this genre; the most outrageous texts receive elegant if simple musical setting, in its own way a final statement about this sub-species of the madrigal.

Chansons

Fewer in number than his madrigals, Lassus’s chansons, about 150 in all, are nonetheless considerable in bulk and, more importantly, highly characteristic of the composer, who never entirely left off being a Frenchman. He wrote a number of chansons in his youth and did not by any means stop when he moved to Munich; French was in common use at the court, and chansons of various types were evidently in demand from his patrons as well as from his publishers.

To judge by their dates of publication, Lassus wrote chansons from the 1550s into the 1580s; a greater proportion than of most other categories are early works. Just as the madrigals were brought out for the most part by Roman and Venetian printers, so the chansons were published chiefly in the Netherlands (Phalèse, Susato, Laet) and in Paris (Le Roy & Ballard, Du Chemin). Their wide popularity can be seen from the frequent reprints and from their appearance in print in Lyons, La Rochelle, Strasbourg and London (Vautrollier, 1570). Some of the later reprints bear the proud description of the composer as ‘Prince des musiciens de nostre temps’. The chansons were much in favour with keyboard, cittern and especially lute intabulators; the Theatrum musicum of Phalèse and Bellère is particularly rich in Lassus’s works. The English translation of Le Roy’s lute tutor (London, 1574) contains 11 chansons by Lassus. A very large number of chansons, including some of the bawdiest, were ‘spiritualized’ in French and German religious collections (Pasquier, 1576; Berg, 1582). The bulk of Lassus’s chanson output was collected in two volumes of ‘meslanges’ issued by Le Roy & Ballard (1576b, 1584a). Of the chansons not included in these volumes or in the important Livre de chansons nouvelles issued by Le Roy & Ballard in Paris and Phalèse in Leuven in 1571 (1571g), some have not survived complete; among these are a set of religious chansons on texts by Guy du Faur de Pibrac, published in 1581. Fortunately two of these pieces, illustrating the sobriety of Lassus’s late chanson style, have been reassembled through the discovery of a set of manuscript parts in Edward Paston’s library.

Lassus turned to some of the most famous of 16th-century French poets for texts: Marot, Ronsard, Du Bellay and Baïf. The fact that he often set texts already known in musical settings is reflected in his occasional choice of Mellin de Saint-Gelais, a favourite poet among composers of the preceding generation, and also in his fondness for light verse from popular anthologies such as La fleur de poesie francoyse (1542). Occasional choice of much earlier poetry (Chartier, Villon) can also be seen. The subject matter ranges from dignified nature-poetry (Du Bellay) and Petrarchesque lyrics (Ronsard), through sententious and moralizing texts, to the familiar drinking-songs, some macaronic texts, and Rabelaisian amorous and bawdy narratives; no one wrote more amusing chansons of this last type (En un chasteau and Il esteoit une religieuse are excellent examples). There are also biblical and religious texts (the famous Susanne un jour, for example) – these apart from the contrafacta imposed by other hands on nearly all the secular chansons. There are a few real love-lyrics, some occasional pieces, and isolated soundings of familiar chanson-like themes such as ‘faulte d’argent’ (in Je suis quasi prest d’enrager).

In musical style the chansons are more varied than the usual blanket description given them – as either ‘Parisian’ patter chansons or motet-like serious pieces – would suggest. Lassus could and often did write chansons, usually light narratives or dialogues, in the classically clear and succinct style made popular in Attaingnant’s anthologies. How directly and economically he went about this can be seen in a work such as Un advocat dit à sa femme. These pieces are usually for four voices, but Lassus, who in all genres preferred five-part texture, could manage ‘Parisian’ style just as easily in five voices (La terre les eaux, for example). He could even write a piece that resembles, paradoxically, an instrumental canzona alla francese transcribed for voices (Si pour moy avez du souci). The light chansons are not always written in ‘Parisian’ fashion; the Italian patter style infecting so much of Lassus’s work in his middle years may also be seen here (there is one outright ‘villanelle’, to Baïf’s Une puce j’ay dedans l’oreill’).

Many chansons begin, as do so many of the lieder, with a contrapuntal exordium, sharply delineating the character of the piece through distinctive melodic shapes; then follow patter chords or lightweight texture in which short motifs are constantly thrown back and forth among the voices. Sometimes the music changes character with every flicker of meaning in the text, as in the setting of Marot’s Qui dort icy. The declamation in all the lively chansons is good; in some it is extraordinarily vivid – Marot’s Bon jour et puis quelles nouvelles is given a setting of such conversational immediacy that on hearing it all barriers separating us from the 16th century seem to drop away.

The more serious chansons resemble the reflective, affective madrigals of Rore and his successors more than they do motets. Chansons such as Le temps passé (with its ‘soupir’ figures), Mon coeur ravi d’amour and Comme la tourterelle (with its madrigalian chromaticism) are madrigals in all but their very Gallic declamatory diction. Use of madrigalian style is sometimes but not always influenced by the text; thus Ronsard’s J’espère et crains, with its laboured Petrarchan oxymorons, is given a quite restrained setting, while Vray dieu disoit une fillette, a very French text, is given such Italian touches as a long final pedal point. In a category by themselves are pieces such as La nuict froide et sombre (Du Bellay), set as an expansive, colouristic tone poem in style even though characteristically brief in actual duration.

German schoolmasters would not have picked chansons by Lassus as examples of rhetorical organization and affective power; the genre was not sufficiently grand. Many of the chansons would nevertheless make good examples of the musician as rhetorician; Marot’s Fleur de quinze ans, for instance, is in Lassus’s hands a seduction speech of extraordinarily tight organization and persuasive musical diction.

German lieder

For Lassus, French by birth and Italian by musical training, composition in a German vein must have posed problems. He published no lieder until 1567; by that time he was surely fluent in setting German texts, enough for him to have written for private use, at the court, pieces Duke Albrecht liked too well to allow to circulate in print (preface to the 1567 collection). But the native tradition was very strong in Munich, where Senfl had worked until his death (1542–3); the song collections of Ott, Forster and others remained popular, and the need for new works was correspondingly less great during Lassus’s early years at the Bavarian court.

The lieder are few in number only by the standards of Lassus’s prolific output in other genres; if one counts the German psalms for three voices (1588) there are over 90 compositions, including several multipartite six-part sacred compositions larger in scale than most of the motets. Many of the secular pieces were famous in the composer’s time and are among his best-known works today (Audite nova, for example). The proportion of sacred pieces among the lieder is high, even without counting the volume of psalms; this suggests that the German collections were intended for a somewhat different audience from that of the madrigals and the chansons.

In the preface to the third book of five-part lieder (1576), Lassus contrasted the Italian and German styles, emphasizing (and defending) the roughness of the latter. He evidently tried to cultivate a specifically German style. The results were good, certainly; but his position in the history of the lied has been described (by Osthoff, 1938) as that of an innovator who discarded German tradition, that of the Tenorlied, in favour of a style mixing elements of the madrigal, the villanella and the chanson. This is true primarily of the secular lieder; the sacred works use traditional melodies in, on the whole, as strict an adherence to cantus-firmus writing as Lassus showed in any genre.

In some respects Lassus was conservative as a composer of lieder. He chose texts for the most part already known in sacred and secular songbooks (one exception is the setting of Hans Sachs’s Ein Körbelmacher in ein Dorff), and inclined towards folk-like ones. His German settings are rhythmically lively and correct in declamation, but not exaggeratedly so; nor are there experiments in chromaticism in the lieder. His preference for five-part texture (which he felt he had to justify as a novelty in the preface to the 1567 collection) was merely carrying over into the lieder a general preference typical of his generation.

The sacred lieder use texts and melodies common to Lutheran and Catholic songbooks with Luther’s Vater unser im Himmelreich opening the first collection (the Ulenberg psalm translations are, however, Catholic and even anti-Protestant in intent). The psalm settings range from the rather simple tricinia of the 1588 collection (where they alternate with similar settings by his son Rudolph) to the great six-part psalm-motets such as Ich ruff zu dir, using paraphrased and cantus-firmus versions of the borrowed melodies, in the French–German volume of 1590.

Among the secular texts chosen by Lassus are drinking-songs and lieder in which the bad effects of liquor are lamented (Mein Fraw hilgert); possibly the constantly expressed preference for wine over beer was a personal one. Comic rustic narrative encounters (Baur, was tregst im Sacke?) are among the most famous of the lieder. There are also melancholy and satirical pieces (Die zeit, so jetz vorhanden ist), some love-songs of narrative character, and a few songs of nature-love. The traditional vein of elegiac introspection seen in the lied from Hofhaimer to Senfl was on the whole avoided by Lassus.

Many lieder begin with an imitative exordium followed by lively patter. Relationships to the villanella and lighter madrigal may of course be seen (Lassus knew the celebrated German villanella collections of Regnart), and the presence of chanson-like rhythms is frequent. The combination is a natural and convincing one; Lassus did not so much break with German tradition as simply set texts in his own style, a somewhat eclectic one in every genre. In any event the triumphantly German character of the best lieder is proof enough that he mastered the lied in his own way.

James Haar

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

Neumes...

An image that I found in the internet, that looks pedagogically interesting. These are the neumes of Gregorian chant notation:

Click on the image above and enjoy!