Songs of Sacrifice: Chant, Identity, and Christian Formation in Early Medieval Iberia 9780190071530, 0190071532

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SONGS OF SACRIFICE

AMS Studies in Music W. Anthony Sheppard, General Editor Editorial Board Anna Maria Busse Berger Gurminder K. Bhogal Drew Edward Davies Scott K. DeVeaux Claire Fontijn Charles H. Garrett

Christine Getz Kevin E. Korsyn Roberta Montemorra Marvin Nicholas Mathew Inna Naroditskaya Nancy Yunhwa Rao

Lateness and Brahms: Music and Culture in the Twilight of Viennese Liberalism Margaret Notley The Critical Nexus: Tone-System, Mode, and Notation in Early Medieval Music Charles M. Atkinson Music, Criticism, and the Challenge of History: Shaping Modern Musical Thought in Late Nineteenth-Century Vienna Kevin C. Karnes Jewish Music and Modernity Philip V. Bohlman Changing the Score: Arias, Prima Donnas, and the Authority of Performance Hilary Poriss Rasa: Affect and Intuition in Javanese Musical Aesthetics Marc Benamou Josquin’s Rome: Hearing and Composing in the Sistine Chapel Jesse Rodin Details of Consequence: Ornament, Music, and Art in Paris Gurminder Kaur Bhogal Sounding Authentic: The Rural Miniature and Musical Modernism Joshua S.Walden Brahms Among Friends: Listening, Performance, and the Rhetoric of Allusion Paul Berry Opera for the People: English-Language Opera and Women Managers in Late 19th-Century America Katherine K. Preston Taken by the Devil: Censorship, Frank Wedekind, and Alban Berg’s Lulu Margaret Notley Beethoven 1806 Mark Ferraguto Songs of Sacrifice: Chant, Identity, and Christian Formation in Early Medieval Iberia Rebecca Maloy

SONGS OF SACRIFICE Chant, Identity, and Christian Formation in Early Medieval Iberia

Rebecca Maloy

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1 Oxford University Press is a department of the University of Oxford. It furthers the University’s objective of excellence in research, scholarship, and education by publishing worldwide. Oxford is a registered trade mark of Oxford University Press in the UK and certain other countries. Published in the United States of America by Oxford University Press 198 Madison Avenue, New York, NY 10016, United States of America. © Oxford University Press 2020 All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of Oxford University Press, or as expressly permitted by law, by license, or under terms agreed with the appropriate reproduction rights organization. Inquiries concerning reproduction outside the scope of the above should be sent to the Rights Department, Oxford University Press, at the address above. You must not circulate this work in any other form and you must impose this same condition on any acquirer. Library of Congress Cataloging-​in-​Publication Data Names: Maloy, Rebecca, author. Title: Songs of sacrifice : chant, identity, and Christian formation in early medieval Iberia / Rebecca Maloy. Description: New York : Oxford University Press, 2020. | Series: AMS studies in music series | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2019048598 (print) | LCCN 2019048599 (ebook) | ISBN 9780190071530 (hardback) | ISBN 9780190071554 (epub) Subjects: LCSH: Mozarabic chants—History and criticism. | Catholic Church—Mozarabic rite—Liturgy. | Sacred vocal music—Spain—500–1400—History and criticism. Classification: LCC ML3070 .M35 2020 (print) | LCC ML3070 (ebook) | DDC 782.32/2200946—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019048598 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019048599 1 3 5 7 9 8 6 4 2 Printed by Integrated Books International, United States of America

Acknowledgments My first thanks go to the colleagues who read and commented on the complete draft of this book and improved it immeasurably: Emma Hornby, Luisa Nardini, Jamie Wood, and Series Editor Tony Sheppard. In addition, Kati Ihnat and Molly Lester gave invaluable feedback on earlier drafts of several chapters. This book has been inextricably shaped by the methodological framework developed with Emma Hornby in our collaborative work on Old Hispanic chant, which began in 2009. My other collaborators in the EU-​funded Old Hispanic Office Project at the University of Bristol (2013–​2018), Elsa De Luca, Kati Ihnat, and Raquel Rojo-​Carillo, have also been deeply influential, as has Paul Rouse’s work in developing and maintaining the Chant Editing and Analysis Programme (CEAP). Thank you for all you’ve taught me and the fun we have had in the process. Although this book took conceptual shape over many years, the final stages of work were supported by the Edward T.  Cone Membership in Music at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, an ACLS fellowship from the American Council of Learned Societies, and a sabbatical leave from the University of Colorado. The magical, stimulating environment at IAS left a deep imprint. Many friends and colleagues lent support and help of various kinds in the 2016–​2017 academic year. I am grateful especially to Roland Betancourt, Jennifer Davis, Patrick Geary, Nina Glibetic, Molly Lester, Gabriel Radle, Jamie Reuland, Nancy Sinkoff, Despina Stratigakos, Columba Stewart, and Anne Yardley. For tolerating the long absence it took to finish this book, I  thank my departmental colleagues and students in the College of Music at the University of Colorado, especially Rob Shay. For pushing me to be a better writer, I am indebted, as ever, to Elissa Guralnick, and to Steve Bruns and Patti Peterson for reading very early drafts of this material. Those of us who work in chant, liturgical, and Medieval studies are blessed with a generous community of fellow travelers. My heartfelt thanks are due to Don Randel for fruitful conversations over many years. Presenting this work at numerous conferences and colloquia over the years provided essential feedback, questions, and stimulating discussions. I  am particularly grateful to Charles

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Acknowledgments Atkinson, James Borders, Susan Boynton, Tom Burman, Santiago Castellanos, Nathan Chase,Thomas Deswarte, Daniel DiCenso, Margot Fassler, the late Max Haas, Andreas Haug, Elaine Hild, Lori Kruckenberg, Jeremy Llewellyn, Sarah Long, Aaron Moreno, Edward Nowacki, Susan Rankin, and the late Roger Reynolds. For permission to reproduce images, I  thank the following institutions:  Archivo de la Catedral de León; Archivo de la Catedral de Toledo; Biblioteca de la Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid; Monasterio de Santo Domingo de Silos; Museo de Santa Cruz, Toledo; the British Library Board; Bibliothèque Nationale de France, and the Stiftsbibliothek Sankt Gallen. Finally, I am grateful, as always, to my spouse Cynthia Katsarelis for her support and love.

About the Companion Website www.oup.com/​us/​songsofsacrifice Oxford University Press has created a companion website to accompany Songs of Sacrifice. The online appendices are supplements to the content of Songs of Sacrifice, providing additional bibliography, examples, and data. Appendix 1 contains a full bibliography on the manuscripts. Appendices 2–​7 provide additional examples and supplementary data for Chapter 4, and Appendices 8–​10 are supplements to Chapter 6.

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Introduction Old Hispanic Chant and the Visigothic Context

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n 587, the Visigothic king Reccared converted from Arian Christianity to the Catholic, Nicene faith. In the previous decades, the military successes of his father Leovigild had brought much of the Iberian Peninsula under Visigothic control. Despite his efforts toward political centralization, Leovigild’s policies had left a deep divide between the Arian Visigoths and the Nicene, Hispano-​ Roman population.1 The preceding decade had seen the revolt and defeat of Leovigild’s son Hermenegild, who had converted to Catholicism, and the exile of prominent Nicene clerics such as Leander of Seville, John of Biclaro, and Masona of Merida.2 Reccared’s conversion thus marked a turning point in royal efforts to unify the Peninsula. Following a series of rebellions, the Third Council of Toledo observed the Nicene victory, with great ceremony, in 589. Addressing the council, Reccared envisioned a kingdom and church united in a holy, mutually reinforcing authority. In his closing sermon, Leander lauded the Visigoths’ conversion as the fulfillment of biblical prophecy and requested the bishops’ prayers that the king and people, glorified by Christ on earth, would likewise be glorified in heaven.3 1. On the historiography and interpretative questions surrounding Leovigild’s relationship to Nicene Christians and differences of religious belief, see Molly Lester, “The Word as Lived:  The Practice of Orthodoxy in Early Medieval Iberia c.  500–​711” (PhD diss., Princeton University, 2017), 41–​52. On the nuanced nature of groups typically called “Arian,” see the recent collection Arianism: Roman Heresy and Barbarian Creed, ed. Guido M. Berndt and Roland Steinacher (New York: Routledge, 2016). 2. See the accounts in, inter alia, Santiago Castellanos, Las godos y la cruz:  Recaredo y unidad de Spania (Madrid: Alianza Editorial, 2007), 191–​233; E. A. Thompson, The Goths in Spain (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1969), 56–​91; José Orlandis, Historia del reino visigodo español (Madrid: Editions Rialp, 1998); and Roger Collins, “King Leovigild and the Conversion of the Visigoths,” in El concilio de III de Toledo: XIV centenario, 589–​1989, ed. Marcelo González Martín (Toledo: Arzobispado de Toledo, 1991), 1–​22. 3. “. . . ut regnum et gens, quae Christum glorificavit in terris, glorificetur ab illo non solum in terris sed etiam in caelis.” José Vives, ed., Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

2 Songs of Sacrifice Although this vision of a cohesive Gothic society, built on twin pillars of church and kingdom, was never realized, it profoundly shaped the rhetoric of ecclesiastical and social elites in the next generations. The episcopacy of Leander’s brother Isidore of Seville (ca. 600–​636) and the reign of Sisebut (612–​621) gave birth to a cultural rejuvenation among these leaders: “an intellectual renaissance, a moral rearmament, a religious revival, and a construction of a new political, royal, and national ideology.”4 Sisebut’s ideal of Christian kingship, equally moral and political, was enacted through his anti-​ Arian polemic, his forceful suppression of Judaism, and his production of political hagiography.5 Although Isidore came to be known as the last of the church fathers, producing works that were copied and cited throughout the Middle Ages, he was very much a product of this historical moment. In his history writing, Isidore glorified the gens Gothorum and fashioned the past according to the agendas of the kingdom’s rulers.6 Central to the aims of the cultural renewal was Christian formation through the education of clergy. Isidore and

(Barcelona; Madrid:  Consejo superior de investigaciones científicas, Instituto Enrique Flórez, 1963), 38. On Toledo III’s political rhetoric, see especially Rachel L. Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom, 589–​633 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000). 4. Jacques Fontaine, “King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii and the Political Function of Visigothic Hagiography,” in Visigothic Spain:  New Approaches, ed. Edward James (Oxford:  Clarendon Press, 1980), 93–​129. The classic study of Isidore is Fontaine’s Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne wisigothique (Paris, Etudes augustiniennes, 1983). On the “Isidorian Renaissance,” see especially 863–​88. Both the long-​standing characterization of this movement as a “renaissance,” and the “Isidorian” nature of it, have been challenged from different angles. See, for example, Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “La cultura de la España visigótica del siglo VII,” in Caratteri del Secolo VII in Occidente (23–​29 Aprile 1957), ed. Francesco Congasso (Spoleto: Presso la Sede del Centro, 1958), 813–​44, see especially 826–​27; Michael J. Kelly, “Writing History, Narrating Fulfillment:  The ‘Isidore Moment’ and the Struggle for the ‘Before now’ in Late Antique and Early Medieval Hispania,” PhD thesis, University of Leeds, 2014; and Markus Mülke, “‘Isidorische Renaissance’ oder: Über die Anbahnung einer Widergeburt,” Antiquité Tardive 23 (2015): 95–​108. 5. Yitzhak Hen, “A Visigothic King in Search of an Identity:  Sisebutus Gothorum Gloriosissimus Princeps,” in Ego Trouble:  Authors and Their Identities in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Richard Corradini (Institut für Mittelalterforschung [Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften], 2010), 89–​99;Yitzhak Hen, Roman Barbarians: The Royal Court and Cultural Patronage in Early Medieval Europe (London:  Palgrave Macmillan, 2008), 124–​52; Fontaine, “King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii”; Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, 123–​28. On Sisebut’s anti-​Jewish policies, see Chapter 3, pp. 96–103. 6. Jamie Wood, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain: Religion and Power in the Histories of Isidore of Seville (Leiden:  Brill, 2012); Jamie Wood, “Religiones and Gentes in Isidore of Seville’s Chronica Maiora,” in Post-​Roman Transitions: Christian and Barbarian Identities in the Early Medieval West (Turnhout:  Brepols, 2013), 125–​68; Walter Pohl and Philipp Dörler, “Isidore and the Gens Gothorum,” Antiquité Tardive 23 (2015): 133–​41.

Introduction other bishops distilled a vast corpus of patristic writings into accessible works for this purpose.7 The goal, to form a society unified in Nicene belief under the Visigothic kings, received its fullest articulation in the canons of the Fourth Council of Toledo (633).8 This book is about the role of liturgical music in this project, and how it helped to shape a Nicene, Visigothic identity. Assessments of Christian education and formation in Visigothic Iberia have often centered on the production of theological texts, particularly Isidore’s.9 Just as important, however, were the ways men and women worshipped, including the music they sang and heard. Between the seventh and eleventh centuries, Christian worship on the Iberian Peninsula was structured by rituals of great theological and musical richness, known as the Old Hispanic (or Mozarabic) rite. Although it had earlier roots, much of this liturgy was a product of the Visigothic cultural renewal. The Old Hispanic liturgy and chant, I  argue, worked toward its goals by promoting patristic teaching and shaping belief in particular ways. I focus on the longest and most elaborate musical item in the Old Hispanic mass:  the offertory chant known as the sacrificium. Sung in tandem with a procession of bread and wine to the altar, the sacrificium marked a central point in the mass: the transition between the liturgy of the word and the Eucharist. While the sacrificia have attracted scholarly attention because of their connections to the Franco-​Roman (“Gregorian”) offertory chants,10 they differ from those chants both in their preference for non-​psalmic Old Testament books and in the crafting of their biblical sources.Through extensive reworking of the Old Testament, the creators of the chants molded scripture in ways that link both to the patristic traditions distilled through the works of Isidore and other Iberian bishops and to contemporaneous Visigothic anti-​ Jewish discourse. These reworked texts were designed to teach exegesis of scripture, and the melodies underline central elements of the texts, helping to convey their meaning. Although the melodies are preserved in notational signs, called neumes, that do not show pitch, they bear witness to elaborate, complex melodies. When carefully read, the neumes convey much about the style and form of these chants, as well as the relationship between text and melody. A  close examination of 7. See discussion and references in Chapter 2, pp. 43-51. 8. Vives, Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos, 186–​225. 9. The work of Jacques Fontaine has been particularly influential. For example, “Fins et moyens de l’enseignement ecclésiastique dans l’Espagne wisigothique,” in La scuola nell’Occidente latino dell’Alto Medioevo (Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 19: 15–​21 Aprile 1971), vol. 1 (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1972), 423–​24. For further references, see Chapter 2. 10. See especially Kenneth Levy, “Toledo, Rome, and the Legacy of Gaul,” Early Music History 4 (1984): 44–​ 99; Rebecca Maloy, Inside the Offertory:  Aspects of Chronology and Transmission (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010).

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4 Songs of Sacrifice liturgical texts and melodies can yield invaluable insights into the bishops’ educational endeavors. An understanding of the Iberian intellectual culture can, in turn, tell us much about the early history of plainsong on the Peninsula. My central question is about the role of these chants—​ both texts and melodies—​in defining belief and identity, both in Visigothic Iberia and through their reception in subsequent centuries. They were structured to do so partly, I show, in ways that were particular to the Iberian intellectual and devotional milieu. I  engage this question from two complementary perspectives:  production and reception. With respect to production, I  look in Chapter  2 to the textual culture of Visigothic Iberia for clues as to why the compilers of chants reworked scripture in particular ways, building an understanding of how scripture and patristic texts were read, understood, and disseminated among the circles of intellectual elites who produced the chants. The bishops’ educational project was undoubtedly more of a normative ideal than a social reality whose effects were felt at all levels of Christian society.11 The chant texts yield new insights into efforts to integrate this program into the experience of the clergy who said the daily office and the laity who attended mass. With respect to reception, I consider other sources of information about Christian education and formation in Visigothic Iberia, yielding insight into the varied levels of knowledge that monks, clergy, and laity are likely to have brought to the understanding of these chants. The sermons, readings, and prayers allow us to assess how clergy and educated laity were meant to understand the chant texts, through the allegorical or typological sense of scripture. A detailed examination of the chant texts, the focus of Chapter  3, shows how they were shaped by bishops’ goals of identity formation and the teaching of doctrine. Despite their scriptural basis, many sacrificia are in essence new textual compositions. Passages of the Old Testament are transformed through an extensive repositioning and rewording, changing the semantic meaning to promote a Christianized experience and understanding of the Old Testament. This reworking of scripture is informed by the patristic exegetical traditions that circulated on the Iberian Peninsula, often through the writings of Isidore and others. The delineation of clear boundaries between Christian festivals and Jewish observances (real or imagined) were a particular focus of these chants. Through their connections to contemporaneous anti-​Jewish discourse and law, the chants served as a conduit for the formation of a Gothic, Nicene identity. As products of a distinctive intellectual culture, they were meant to advance the goals of the Visigothic cultural program, to shape individual Christian souls and a communal identity.

11. See especially Jamie Wood and Javier Martínez Jiménez, “New Directions in the Study of Visigothic Spain,” History Compass 14 (2016): 29–​38.

Introduction The central messages of these texts were conveyed through melody. Until recently, only a handful of studies had engaged extensively with the Old Hispanic melodies on their own terms, mainly because their notation does not show pitch. Through the analytical method I present in Chapter 4, a sophisticated melodic grammar for the sacrificia emerges. Building on earlier analytical work by Don Randel and Nils Nadeau, as well as myself and Emma Hornby, I  identify recurring notational patterns in the repertory that point to standard melodic gestures.12 Through observing where specific neumes and notational patterns fall in relation to the verbal syntax, we can begin to understand how the melodies work. Melodic grammar was closely tied to the verbal syntax: visually distinctive neume patterns function to mark beginnings or endings of verbal clauses or structural points within melismas. Although we cannot hear the melodies, the contexts in which these patterns appear gives us some access to the framework through which Medieval listeners experienced these chants. Whether and how chant melodies relate to textual meaning has been a contentious question. In the case of the sacrificia, the answer is a resounding yes, as I show in Chapter 5. When we consider the occasion on which a chant was sung, its intersection with surrounding liturgical elements, its meaning in biblical exegesis, and the reworking of the biblical source, it becomes clear that the sacrificia employed musical rhetoric to mold a particular understanding of each text. Through strategic placement of cadences, repetition, and changes in pacing, the melodies underline words and phrases of particular liturgical, exegetical, or rhetorical importance. Rhetorical strategies, moreover, are often deployed at the precise points where the biblical source has been transformed, highlighting the overtly exegetical recasting of the Old Testament. The analysis thus reveals a commonality of purpose behind the texts and melodies. Together, they were designed to direct the devotional ruminations of their listeners, infusing their 12. The following studies have been especially influential: Louis Brou, “L’Alléluia dans la liturgie mozarabe. Étude liturgico-​musicale d’après les manuscrits,” Anuario Musical 6 (1951): 3–​90; Don M. Randel, The Responsorial Psalm Tones for the Mozarabic Office (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969); Don M. Randel,“El antiguo rito hispánico y la salmodia primitiva en occidente,” Revista de musicología 8 (1985): 229–​38; and Nils Nadeau, “‘Pro sonorum diversitate vel novitate’: The Singing of Scripture in the Hispano-​Visigothic Votive Masses” (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2000). More recently, see Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants: Psalmi,Threni, and the Easter Vigil Canticles (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2013); Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant,” Plainsong and Medieval Music 26 (2014): 37–​72; Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, “Fixity, Flexibility, and Compositional Process in Old Hispanic Chant,” Music & Letters 97 (2017): 547–​74; Raquel Rojo-​Carillo, “Text, Liturgy, and Music in the Old Hispanic Rite:  The Vespertinus Genre,” PhD thesis, University of Bristol, 2017. The two dozen pitch-​readable chants, preserved in Aquitanian notation, were transcribed in Casiano Rojo and Germán Prado, El canto mozárabe: estudio histórico-​crítico de su antigüedad y estado actual (Barcelona: Diputación Provincial de Barcelona, 1929).

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6 Songs of Sacrifice experience of the Old Testament with Christian exegesis and contributing to the formation of identity. Chapter 6 turns to a comparative analysis of the Old Hispanic musical sources. Despite a broad consensus that plainsong melodies originated before the use of musical notation, scholars continue to debate the nature of their orality and the degree of melodic fixity before notation.13 The early Old Hispanic manuscripts, copied in the tenth and eleventh centuries, indicate a multilayered transmission of melodies, with a blend of oral and written elements. Shared music writing habits point to a common culture of musical literacy. Moreover, the notational and graphic similarities between manuscripts indicate, in many cases, descent from a common exemplar. The tradition was nonetheless varied and flexible at certain points, suggesting that the scribes used exemplars with reference to an aural, inner understanding of the melodies that was not uniform across regions or institutions. We find a much wider variation in the twelfth-​to-​fourteenth-​ century manuscripts from Toledo, connected to the continued use of the Old Hispanic rite in a handful of Toledan parishes after its general suppression at the Council of Burgos (1080). These manuscripts preserve two distinct liturgical traditions, with different but overlapping readings, prayers, and chant repertories. Tradition A is close to the early sources, both liturgically and melodically, whereas tradition B presents markedly different versions of the melodies. These correspond to the early manuscripts in certain structural features, such as the number of notes per syllable, but rarely in the details of melodic contour. The tradition B manuscripts, moreover, show no evidence of a scribal relationship to the early sources.The two traditions instead appear to descend from a common oral tradition, which was subject to change over generations. Chapter 7 places the sacrificium within the broader picture of Western plainsong, showing how the Old Hispanic chant was shaped by contact with other liturgical traditions. Some offertory chants of a similar character to the sacrificia circulate in Gallican, Milanese, and North African traditions, as well as local Aquitanian repertories. On this basis, it is possible to define common textual, exegetical, and musical traits, while placing into relief the distinctive aspects of the Old Hispanic repertory.The sacrificia also share aspects of melodic language with their Franco-​Roman counterparts. Although the Iberian cantors drew on a broad “international” approach to creating offertories, they developed aspects

13. Some of this work is compiled in Thomas Forrest Kelly, Oral and Written Transmission in Chant (Aldershot:  Ashgate, 2009); Thomas Forrest Kelly, Chant and Its Origins (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009); Kenneth Levy, Gregorian Chant and the Carolingians (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998); and Leo Treitler, With Voice and Pen: Coming to Know Medieval Song and How It Was Made (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). See Chapter 6 for further references.

Introduction of a distinctive musical style and shaped the texts in conformity to their own doctrinal and political goals.

The Old Hispanic Liturgy: Visigothic History and Sources The core of the Old Hispanic rite’s history spans five centuries:  through developments in the sixth century, intensive production in the seventh, and a largely undocumented period under Islamic rule, to the tenth-​and eleventh-​ century northern Christian kingdoms, which produced most of the existing manuscripts with musical notation. Practiced on a culturally diverse peninsula through dramatically shifting political milieus, much of the rite’s early history is veiled from our sight. For good reasons, however, most scholars have placed the bulk of its development between the Third Council of Toledo in 589 and the Arab and Berber invasion that began in 711, with an earlier core and some later developments.14 The Orationale of Verona (OV), preserving prayers of the festal offices with marginal chant incipits, suggests that much of the liturgy and chant was in place by the early eighth century. This manuscript was copied before 732 (when it is docu mented in northern Italy), and its contents are thought to date from the later seventh century.15 The prayers are based on the chant texts: each begins with a paraphrase of the chant and offers a concise exegesis of it.The series of chant incipits closely matches that of the first complete chant book, León, Cathedral Archive MS 8 (hereafter L8).16 14. Paul Sejourné, Le dernier père de l’église, Saint Isidore de Seville; son rôle dans l’histoire du droit canonique (Paris: Gabriel Beauchesne, 1929), 137–​44; German Prado, Valoración y plan de reforma del rito mozárabe (Doetinchem, Holland: Microlibrary Slangenburg Abbey, 1987), 81; Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “Literary Aspects of the Visigothic Liturgy,” in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. James (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 61–​76; Marius Férotin, Le liber ordinum:  en usage dans l’église wisigothique et mozarabe d’Espagne du cinquième au onzième siècle (Rome: Edizioni Liturgiche, 1996), 9–​10; Nadeau, “ ‘Pro sonorum diversitate,’ ” 16–​18. On the earlier core see, inter alia, Jordi M. Pinell, Liturgia hispánica (Barcelona: Centre de Pastoral Litúrgica, 1998), 55–​70. 15. Verona, Cathedral, Biblioteca Capit. Cod. LXXXIX. Edition:  José Vives, Oracional visigótico (Barcelona:  Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1946). On the dating of the manuscript and its contents, see, inter alia, Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “La fecha de implantación del oracional festivo visigótico,” Boletín arqueológico: órgano de la Real Sociedad Arqueológica Tarraconense 71–​72 (1971): 216–​43; Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “Consideraciones sobre el oracional visigótico de Verona,” in Petrarca, Verona, e l’Europa, Atti del Convegno internazionale di studi (Verona, 19–​23 settembre 1991), ed. Giuseppe Billanovich and Giuseppe Frasso (Padua: Antenore, 1997), 13–​29. 16. Louis Brou, “Le joyau des antiphonaires latins,” Archivos Leoneses: Revista de Estudios y Documentación de Los Reinos Hispano-​Occidentales 15 (1954): 11–​13;W. S. Porter, “Studies on the Mozarabic Office,” Journal of Theological Studies 35 (1934): 266–​86.

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8 Songs of Sacrifice The Visigothic church councils attest to liturgical activity throughout the later sixth and seventh centuries. While they do not yield detailed information about the development of liturgical services, they testify to an increasing focus on liturgical consensus and offer glimpses into aspects of the liturgy considered important to the bishops at particular times.17 Before the unification of the Peninsula under the Visigoths, the liturgy reflected Iberia’s cultural diversity. While Roman influence prevailed among the Sueves in Gallaecia, Christianized only in the mid-​to-​late sixth century, archeological evidence also points to Byzantine liturgical practices.18 Baetica remained under Byzantine rule until 625, suggesting the presence of a Byzantine rite at least among the ruling class. The sixth century saw efforts toward consolidation within provinces, first in the council of Gerona in 517,19 and then in the call for a common “ordo psallendi” within the province of Braga in 561.20 In 633, the Fourth Council of Toledo extended this principle throughout the Visigothic kingdom, instructing that “we do nothing diverse or dissonant in the ecclesiastical sacraments, lest any of our diversity appear to show the error of schism among those who are ignorant or carnal, or lest the variety of the churches give rise to scandal for many.”21 The ideals of concord and doctrinal unity, central to the Visigothic cultural project, were now to be articulated through a common liturgy, which would help to unify a diverse peninsula. These steps toward liturgical consistency need not be understood according to the kinds of unity envisaged in later liturgical reforms. Rather, they should be read against the late-​antique and early medieval norm of diversity within a common rite.22 In the late sixth century, Gregory the Great had written 17. For an in-​depth study on the liturgical canons of the councils and their relation to Visigothic religious culture, see Lester, “The Word as Lived.” 18. On Roman influence see, inter alia, Thomas Deswarte, Une Chrétienté romaine sans pape. L’Espagne et Rome (586–​1085) (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2010), 134–​40; on the architectural features, Luís Fontes, “The Circulation of Models in the Construction of Christian Identity in the Northwest Iberian Peninsula: Architecture and Hagiotoponymy in the Braga Region,” Visigothic Symposium 3 (2018–​2019): 130–​50. 19. Canon I. Vives, Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos, 39. 20. Canon I. Vives, Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos, 71. 21. Toledo IV, canon II: “. . . nihil ultra diuersum aut dissonum in ecclesiasticis sacramentis agamus, ne qualibet nostra diuersitas apud ignotos seu carnales schismatis errorem uideatur ostendere, et multis exsistat in scandalum uarietas ecclesiarum.” José Vives, Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos, 188. See the analysis in Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, 156–​60; and Lester, “The Word as Lived,” 240–​50. For a summary of Toledo IV’s comments on the liturgy, see Jordi M. Pinell, Liturgia hispánica (Barcelona: Centre de Pastoral Litúrgica, 1998), 11–​28. 22. On the diversity of liturgy in pre-​Carolingian Gaul, for example, see, inter alia, Yitzhak Hen, “Unity in Diversity: The Liturgy of Frankish Gaul before the Carolingians,” Studies in Church History 32 (1996): 59–​83; Els Rose, “Liturgical Commemoration of Saints in the Missale gothicum (Vat. Reg. lat. 317):  New Approaches to the Liturgy of Medieval Gaul,”

Introduction to Leander that “in one faith, a different custom is in no way harmful to the Holy Church.”23 In De ecclesiasticis officiis, Isidore allows a variety of practices as long as they are not “against good faith and morals.”24 In the same spirit, calls against diverse practice in the Iberian councils are connected to clerical ignorance or to aspects of belief and concord.25 Liturgical unity was not an end in itself, nor was its impulse as overtly political as it would come to be during the Carolingian reforms. Some of the surviving liturgical texts, including chant, probably date from the sixth century. As I show in Chapter 7, an early-​sixth-​century palimpsest lectionary from Narbonnaise Gaul, part of the Visigothic kingdom, presents evidence for offertory chants that are similar textually to the sacrificia, raising the probability that they were also known on the Iberian Peninsula at this time. In the De viris illustribus tradition, moreover, Isidore and Ildefonsus attribute liturgical composition, including chant, to bishops such as Leander (d. 599 or 600), who composed chant “of sweet sound,”26 and John of Saragossa (d. ca. 631), who wrote pieces that were “elegant in both words and music.”27 Conantius of Palencia (d. 639) “brought forth many noble melodies,” and Eugenius II of

Vigilae Christianae 58 (2004): 75–​97; Yitzhak Hen, “The Liturgy of the Bobbio Missal,” in The Bobbio Missal:  Liturgy and Religious Culture in Merovingian Gaul, ed. Yitzhak Hen and Rob Meens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 140–​53. The once-​prevalent picture of Carolingian liturgical unity has also been challenged in many places, including Yitzhak Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy in Frankish Gaul to the Death of Charles the Bald (877) (London; Rochester, NY: Boydell Press, 2001), 78–​89; Rosamond McKitterick, “Unity and Diversity in the Carolingian Church,” Studies in Church History 32 (1996): 59–​82. See also Lizette Larson-​Miller, “The Liturgical Inheritance of the Late Empire in the Middle Ages,” in A Companion to the Eucharist in the Middle Ages, ed. Ian Levy, Gary Macy, and Kirsten van Ausdall (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 13–​58. 23. John R. C. Martyn, Gregory and Leander: An Analysis of the Special Friendship between Pope Gregory the Great and Leander, Archbishop of Seville (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013), 2. 24. De ecclesiasticis officiis, I.xliv, ed. Christopher M. Lawson, CCSL 113 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1989),  48–​49. 25. See the analysis in Lester, “The Word as Lived,” 178–​87; and Molly Lester, “Mapping Liturgical Identity in Early Medieval Iberia and Beyond,” Visigothic Symposium 2 (2017–​2018): 114–​30. 26. Isidore of Seville, De viris illustribus XXVIII. El “De viris illustribus” de Isidoro de Sevilla, ed. Carmen Codoñer Merino (Salamanca: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto “Antonio de Nebrija,” Colegio Trilingüe de la Universidad, 1964), 150; John R. C. Martyn, Gregory and Leander: An Analysis of the Special Friendship between Pope Gregory the Great and Leander, Archbishop of Seville (Newcastle upon Tyne:  Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013). 27. “In ecclesiasticis officiis quaedam eleganter et sono et oratione composuit.” Ildefonsus, De viris illustribus V, CCSL 114a, 607.

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10 Songs of Sacrifice Toledo (d. 657) was said to have corrected chants that had become corrupted.28 For readers familiar with the legend of Gregory the Great’s role in the creation of Roman chant, the attributions of chant to these prominent bishops will doubtless raise skepticism. In contrast to the Gregory legend, however, the biographies of these bishops were written, in two cases, by authors who had known their subjects personally. Moreover, the implicit claim in De viris illustribus that the Old Hispanic chant is the product of an ecclesiastical elite is supported by the analysis presented here. As I show in Chapter 3, the chants reflect an engagement with the patristic writings at the core of the bishops’ educational project, suggesting that they were part of the same effort and emanated from the same circles. Given the understanding of biblical exegesis reflected in the chant, few outside these circles could have produced it. The brief synopses of bishops’ lives in De viris illustribus typically include only a handful of details: the period they held office; their central achievements such as writings, teaching, or knowledge of specific disciplines; whether they had made a monastic profession; and sometimes brief sketches of their character or appearance. The inclusion of chant composition or correction among these bishops’ most notable work, with references to the beauty and correctness of its melodies, attests to the value placed on chant in the Iberian ecclesiastical culture. Isidore’s De ecclesiasticis officiis, written between 598 and 615, gives a fuller picture of the services and types of chant that were in place at the turn of the seventh century. Aspects of polity and practice addressed by Isidore include the books of the bible, the liturgical year, types of services, and duties of the clerical orders. De ecclesiasticis officiis attests to the existence of nearly the full office, including the night and dawn offices (vigilia and matutinum), terce, sext, none, vespers, and the mass. Isidore’s primary purpose, however, is not to outline liturgical forms but to establish the origins of these services, usually linking them to the Old Testament through biblical typology. Although some of the liturgical customs Isidore describes, such as the giving of the Nicene Creed to catechumens on Palm Sunday29 and the types of prayers in the mass, correspond to the liturgies preserved in later manuscripts, little of detail is discernable about the structure of specific services. On the musical side, De ecclesiasticis officiis testifies to choirs ranging from a few to many members. Following a long tradition, Isidore describes singing as one of the deacon’s duties.30 More important for our purpose, he knew a designated office for singers, pointing to the existence of chant that required 28. Conantius: “melodias soni multas nobiliter edidit.” Eugenius II: “Cantus pessimis usibus vitiatos melodiae cognitione correxit.” Ildefonsus, De viris illustribus X and XIII. CCSL 114a, 612 and 615. 29. De ecclesiasticis officiis I.xxviii. CCSL 113, 31–​32. 30. “Hic psallere mandatur . . . ” De ecclesiasticis officiis II.vii CCSL 113, 67.

Introduction specialized leadership. He describes the psalmist as the first among singers (“princeps cantorum”), who was chosen by priests, without the permission of the bishop, on the basis of his singing skill.31 An epitaph for one such singer, Andreas, “princeps cantorum,” survives from Mértola in modern-​day southeast Portugal, a rare material witness to liturgical singers in the seventh century.32 Isidore upholds the emotional power of chant by reframing Augustine’s ambivalent view of liturgical singing, and he specifically mentions the psalmist’s role in moving listeners to compunction and to greater piety.33 The psalmist appears among the clerical orders in Isidore’s later work Etymologiarum siue Originum. There Isidore uses the words “cantor” as a general word for singer, and, following Augustine, “precentor” and “succentor” for those who lead and follow in the singing.34 Although De ecclesiasticis officiis does attest to the existence of an offertory chant in Isidore’s time, as described in Chapter 1, it is limited as a witness to the other specific chant genres found in later manuscripts. Isidore describes hymns, canticles, offertories, alleluias (laudes), antiphons, and responsories.35 In the latter three cases, however, we should be cautious about equating these with the exact chant types found in the tenth-​and eleventh-​century sources. Isidore’s description of the laudes, for example, is perhaps to be more securely viewed as general singing of the word “alleluia,” rather than the specific musical genre testified in later sources. Antiphons and responsories, moreover, are characterized not as chant genres sung in particular liturgical contexts, but simply as chants characterized by two kinds of singing, antiphons with two alternating choirs and responsories with alternation between a soloist and choir, with “two or three singers.” This leaves the offertory (or sacrificium) as one of the few mass chants whose existence is witnessed unequivocally in De ecclesiasticis officiis.36 31. De ecclesiasticis officiis II.xii. CCSL 113, 71–​72.The psalmist occurs in a series of descriptions of what came to be defined as minor orders: subdeacons, lectors, psalmists, exorcists, and porters. 32. José Vives, ed., Inscripciones cristianas de la España romana y visigoda (Barcelona: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1969), 33. On the Mértola inscriptions, see most recently M. Manuela Alves Dias and Catarina Gaspar, “A população de Mérida e de Mértola nas fonts epigráficas,” in Wisigothica After M.C. Díaz y Díaz, ed. Carmen Codoñer and Paulo Farmhouse Alberto (Florence: SISMEL, Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2014), 329–​40. 33. De ecclesiasticis officiis I.v. CCSL 113, 6. Emma Hornby, “Musical Values and Practice in Old Hispanic Chant,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 69 (2016): 595–​650. See the discussion of this passage in Chapter 5, pp. 159–60 and 185–87. 34. Isidore of Seville, Etymologiarum siue Originum libri XX, ed. W. M. Lindsay (New York: Oxford University Press, 1911), 301. 35. De ecclesiasticis officiis I.vii and viii. CCSL 113, 7–​8. For further discussions of these passages and their relation to the existing repertory, see Don M. Randel, “Responsorial Psalmody in the Mozarabic Rite,” Études Grégoriennes 10 (1989): 87–​116. 36. De ecclesiasticis officiis I.xvi. CCSL 113, 16. See discussion below, pp. 19–21.

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12 Songs of Sacrifice Despite these caveats about reading too much into De ecclesiasticis officiis, the Old Hispanic repertory was certainly being established during the time of Leander and Isidore, and it reasonable to infer the existence of many chant genres at this time. In his monastic rule, Isidore describes the singing of a responsory and laudes at vespers and at the small offices of terce, sext, and nones.37 Responsories are mentioned along with the singing of psalms and hymns, in an order that implies their liturgical arrangement in existing sources.38 The author of the Epistola ad Leudefredum, traditionally attributed to Isidore, mentions a series of chant types by the names used to designate them in later manuscripts: benedictiones, laudes, psalmum, sacrificium, and responsories. He characterizes them as the responsibility of the psalmist. Although the letter to Leudefredus may date from the late seventh century rather than Isidore’s time, it testifies to the existence of most known chant types by the century’s end, and it is likely that they existed in Isidore’s time as well. A slate tablet dating from the late seventh century, from a site near Salamanca, contains possible abbreviations for “antiphon” and “responsory,” a material vestige of ecclesiastical training.39 Although the OV lacks some festivals that appear in later manuscripts, including the first three weeks of Lent and many saints’ offices, its earlier eighth-​century date testifies to the existence of a nearly full office repertory during the Visigothic period. The OV does not contain the mass, but it would be difficult to envision a scenario in which mass chants had not emerged concurrently with the office chants listed in the OV. This, coupled with the probable existence of offertory chants in Isidore’s time, suggests that much of the core sacrificium repertory existed before the end of the seventh century, though later additions are also probable.40 37. This description differs from the existing liturgical manuscripts. The structure of each office is laid out in Emma Hornby, Kati Ihnat, Rebecca Maloy, and Raquel Rojo-​Carillo, Liturgical and Musical Culture in Early Medieval Iberia: Decoding a Lost Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). 38. Isidore of Seville, Regula, ed. Julio Campos Ruiz, Reglas monásticas de la españa visigoda (Madrid: Biblioteca de autores christianos, 1971), 101. 39. On the slates, see Chapter  2, pages 59 and 64. This picture of an early date for the establishment of the repertory is broadly concordant with that presented in Don Randel, “Leander, Gregory, and Isidore,” Journal of Musicology 26 (2019): 500–​524, though the publication of this work was too recent to be fully incorporated into this study. The passage in the Epistola ad Leudefredum reads, “Ad psalmistam pertinet officium canendi, dicere benedictiones, psalmum, laudes, sacrificium, responsuria, et quicquid pertinet ad cantandi peritiam.” For the late-​seventh-​century date and a negative view of the letter’s Isidorian authenticity, see Roger E. Reynolds, “The ‘Isidorian’ Epistula ad Leudefredum: Its Origins, Early Manuscript Tradition, and Editions,” in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. Edward James (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 269; Roger E. Reynolds, “The ‘Isidorian’ Epistula ad Leudefredum: An Early Medieval Epitome of the Clerical Duties,” Medieval Studies 41 (1979): 252–​330. In a forthcoming publication, however, Thomas Deswarte argues for Isidore’s authorship. 40. For examples of chants added to León 8 by a later hand, see Chapter 1, p. 40.

Introduction If the Old Hispanic chant was produced by ecclesiastical elites in the later sixth and seventh centuries, where was it performed, and who would have heard it? Given their role in the education of both clergy and lay elites, cathedrals and larger monasteries would have had sufficient resources. Among the signatories of the Fourth Council of Toledo are bishops of sixty-​nine dioceses, including six provincial centers (Mérida, Toledo, Seville, Braga, Tarragona, and Narbonne). Lay residents of these episcopal centers would most likely have heard the chant, particularly in larger urban areas, such as the crowded, comparatively wealthy city of Mérida. Outside Mérida’s walls lay the martyrial church of its patron, Santa Eulalia, a popular site of lay devotion and liturgies that must have included chant in some form.While it seems unlikely that elaborate chants like the sacrificia would have been heard at rural private churches or ad hoc monasteries,41 the smaller choirs mentioned by Isidore may well have existed in non-​episcopal towns such as Mértola, home of Andreas, the princeps cantorum already mentioned. Although bishops were powerful figures in the rural landscape and responsible for catechumenal rituals throughout their dioceses, it seems doubtful, on the whole, that the full chant repertory reached the rural lay population on a regular basis.42 The visual experience of the sixth-​and seventh liturgy cannot be reconstructed in great detail. Few, if any, standing churches are securely attributed to this period.43 Moreover, we lack Hispanic equivalents to the Ordines romani, with their detailed descriptions of liturgical movement within the mass. Archeological evidence nonetheless provides some clues. Many Visigothic churches were three-​aisled basilicas with an apse, typical of late antiquity. The choir was either in or near the transept, as at Reccopolis, or at the west end, close to the baptistery.44 The latter arrangement, typical of some rural churches, 41. By ad hoc monasteries, I mean “monasteries constructed by and for aggregations of families . . . incorporating private property and the people associated with them into the community.” See Pablo C. Díaz, “Regula communis: Monastic Space and Social Context,” in Western Monasticism ante litteram: The Spaces of Monastic Observance in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. Henrick Dey and Elizabeth Fentress (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 117–​ 135; at 117. 42. On the roles of bishops and monks in the secular power structure, see inter alia, Céline Martin, La géographie du pouvoir dans l’espagne visigothique (Paris: Septentrion, 2003), 99–​134. 43. Most of the churches once thought to be Visigothic have been redated to the ninth century or later, owing to the work of Luis Caballero Zoreda and others. For recent summaries, see (inter alia) Alexandra Chavarrí Arnau, “Churches and Aristocracies in Seventh-​ Century Spain:  Some Thoughts on the Debate on Visigothic Churches,” Early Medieval Europe 18 (2010): 160–​74; Rose Walker, Art in Spain and Portugal from the Romans to the Early Middle Ages: Routes and Myths (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute, 2016), 116–​37. 44. Luis Caballero Zoreda and Isaac Sastre de Diego, “Espacios de la liturgia hispana de los siglos V–​X: Segün la arqueología,” in El canto mozárabe y su entorno: Estudios sobre la música de la liturgía viejo hispánica, ed. Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta (Madrid: Sociedad Española de Musicología, 2013), 259–​91.

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14 Songs of Sacrifice has also been found among the episcopal complexes that emerged in the later fifth and sixth centuries, as part of a new Christian monumentality that reflected the bishops’ role as local leaders.45 For example, El Tolmo de Minateda in southeast Hispania (about 30 miles north of modern-​day Murcia), identified as the see of Elotana or Eiotana built between 589 and 610, stands, along with Recopolis, as a rare documented example of Visigothic construction and allows us to envision at least one performance space. Excavations revealed a cathedral of about 25 meters in length, with an apse, three aisles, and an adjoining baptistery with adjacent rooms on each side. Toward the end of the sixth century, a second choir was constructed at the west end of the church. Chancel screens in the sanctuary and baptistery were decorated with circle crosses and geometric designs. The liturgies held here and at similar episcopal complexes provided a soundscape and a quotidian structure for a host of other activities that reflected the bishop’s stature, in matters both sacred and secular. The neighboring residence, which could accommodate a sizable episcopal household, would also have served as an administrative center. Here the bishop granted audiences, food was distributed to the poor, and tax was collected.46 Other rooms in the complex would have been used for the education of clergy, and possibly of lay elites.47 Although we cannot prove that Old Hispanic chant was sung here, it is most likely to have flourished at episcopal centers like this, and in larger, well-​ endowed monasteries.

From the Visigoths to the Notated Manuscripts As with all early chant traditions, the manuscripts with Old Hispanic melodies postdate the creation of the repertory by several centuries. The earliest sources with notation, dating from the tenth and eleventh centuries, were copied in the Christian kingdoms of northern Iberia. The first extant manuscript with 45. Javier Martínez Jiménez, Issac Sastre de Diego, and Carlos Tejerizo García, The Iberian Peninsula between 300 and 850: An Archaeological Perspective (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2018), 163–​68. On this role of bishops, see, inter alia, Martin, La géographie du pouvoir dans l’espagne visigothique, 113–​21. 46. On the bishops’ role in tax collection, Damián Fernández,“What is De fisco Barcinonensi About?,” Antiquité Tardive 14 (2006): 217–​24. 47. Lorenzo Abad Casal, Sonia Gutiérrez Lloret, and Blanca Gamo Parras, “La basílica y el baptistero del Tolmo de Minateda (Hellín, Albacete),” Archivio Español de Archeología 73 (2000): 193–​221; Sonia Gutiérrez Lloret and Julia Sarabia Bautista, “The Episcopal Complex of Eio-​el Tolmo de Minateda (Héllín, Albacete, Spain). Architecture and spatial organization, 7th to 8th centuries AD,” Hortus Artium Medievalium 19 (2013): 267–​300; and Sonia Gutierrez Lloret, Julia Sarabia Bautista, Carolina Domenech, and Victoria Amorós, “The Buildings of the Visigothic Elite: Function and Material Culture in Spaces of Power,” Visigothic Symposium 2 (2017–​2018): 34–​59. On the education of clergy and laity, see Chapter 2.

Introduction sacrificia, the celebrated León, Cathedral archive MS 8 (hereafter L8), dates from the tenth century.48 L8 preserves a repertory for nearly the full liturgical year, in an unpitched but sophisticated musical notation. While L8 forms the basis for much of my melodic analysis, I  also incorporate a dozen or so later, mostly incomplete or fragmentary sources, addressing the differences in Chapter 6.49 The gap between the creation of the repertory and the notated manuscripts indicates that the existing melodies are not a direct witness to Visigothic musical culture. Old Hispanic chant thus raises the same question we face in studying any other early chant repertory: what (if anything) should we infer about the state of the melodies before the existing manuscripts, and how? At first glance, the Arab and Berber conquest of the Iberian Peninsula in 711 might appear as a further complication, leading to a disruption or even discontinuity of liturgical practice. The liturgy, however, continued to be celebrated in the eighth century and into the ninth, at least in major centers. The Chronicle of 754 names two melodici of the Toledo cathedral: Urban in the 720s and Peter in the 750s.50 An unusual term for singer, “melodicus” emphasizes the sweetness of singing, and may also refer to compositional activity. The author of the Chronicle emphasizes the erudition and teaching activity of both men, strengthening the impression that members of the church’s intellectual elite produced and performed chant. Urban is listed among a group of clerics who were “brilliant in teaching, wisdom, and sanctity,” and Peter, a deacon, was “the most learned in all the scriptures.” Eighth-​century letters issuing from the same group of Toledan clerics point to a continuing concern for orthodox belief and correct liturgical practice.51 Indeed, in the first decades of Arab rule, life changed little for most Christians. The conquerors offered alliances and attractive terms to Visigothic elites, who continued to wield local power and prospered under favorable treatment.52 Even the Visigothic aristocracy is likely to have persisted into the ninth century, 48. There are conflicting hypotheses about a more specific date within the tenth century. See references in Chapter 6, note 3. 49. For bibliography on these manuscripts, see Chapter  6. The indispensable tool for working with the chant in these sources is Don M. Randel, An Index to the Chant of the Mozarabic Rite (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1973). 50. Urban: Chronicle of 754, LXX; Peter: XCIII. José Eduardo López Pereira, Continuatio Isidoriana Hispana: Crónica mozárabe de 754 (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación San Isidoro, 2009).Translation in Kenneth Baxter Wolf, Conquerors and Chroniclers of Early Medieval Spain (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2011), 112 and 126. 51. Juan Gil, ed., Corpus scriptorum muzarabicorum (Madrid: Instituto Antonio de Nebrija), 1973, 1–​5; 55–​59. Discussion of these documents in Roger Collins, The Arab Conquest of Spain: 710–​797 (Oxford; Cambridge, MA: Blackwell, 1994), 65–​80. 52. Inter alia, Cyrille Aillet, Les Mozarabes. Christianisme, islamisation, et arabisation en Péninsule Ibérique (IXe–​XIIe siècle) (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2010), 45–​93; Kenneth Baxter Wolf, “Christian Views of Islam in Early Medieval Spain,” in Medieval Christian Perceptions of

15

16 Songs of Sacrifice disappearing with the Umayyad centralization efforts of Abd ar-​Rahman II.53 The open defiance toward Islam promoted by the ninth-​century Córdoban martyrs, as exceptional as it was famed, was opposed by at least some Christian leaders. Moreover, as the characterizations of Urban and Peter imply, the intellectual tradition that produced the core of the Old Hispanic rite continued into the eighth and ninth centuries.54 The author of the Chronicle of 754 certainly knew the writings of the Visigothic fathers. Moreover, Iberian discourse on both sides of the Adoptionist controversy looked toward the Visigothic past.55 Ninth-​century Al-​Andalus saw a small revival of Latin Christian literature, based in the patristic traditions that had circulated in the seventh century.56 The congruity between the OV and L8 signals a stability of liturgical practice as well. Although the liturgical practices of Christians in Al-​Andalus have left few direct traces,57 Andalusian immigrants played an important role in establishing

Islam: A Book of Essays, ed. John Victor Tolan (New York: Routledge, 2000), 85–​108; at 90; Hitchcock, Mozarabs,  13–​18. 53. For a synthesis of archeological evidence for the shift toward Umayyad centralization, see Alexandra Chavarrí Arnau, “Churches and Aristocracies in Seventh-​ Century Iberia:  Some Thoughts on the Debate on Visigothic Churches,” Early Medieval Europe 18 (2010): 160–​74; at 172–​74. 54. Collins, for example, refers to the church under the Arabs as a “fossil” of the Visigothic past in The Arab Conquest of Spain, 212, though this claim requires further exploration. On the continuation of learning in the “Mozarabic” church, see Díaz y Díaz, De Isidoro al siglo XI: Ocho estudios sobre la vida literaria peninsular, 135–​40, 164–​74, and 205–​11. 55. This is a central argument of John C. Cavadini, The Last Christology of the West: Adoptionism in Spain and Gaul, 785–​820 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1993). See also Díaz y Díaz, De Isidoro al siglo XI, 165–​70. 56. Eulogius, Liber apoleticus martyrum; Leovigild, De habitu clericorum; and Samson Apologeticus. Edited in Juan Gil, Corpus scriptorum muzarabicorum 1 (Madrid: Instituto Antonio de Nebrija, 1973), 483–​86, 667–​84, and 506–​659. Recent contributions to the large body of work on Eulogius include Ann Christys, Christians in Al-​Andalus 711–​1000 (Hoboken, NJ: Taylor and Francis, 2013); and Kenneth Baxter Wolf, Christian Martyrs in Muslim Iberia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014). On Latin as an emblem of Christian identity, see Aillet, Les Mozarabes, 133–​52. On Mozarabic intellectual culture in later centuries, see discussion in Chapter 6, pp. 223–225; and especially Thomas E. Burman, Religious Polemic and the Intellectual History of the Mozarabs, c. 1050–​1200 (Leiden: Brill, 1994). 57. None of the surviving chant books can be established as the product of Christians living under Islamic rule. (Toledo 35.6 is the strongest candidate.) A handful of other liturgical sources, however, have connections to the Mozarabs, as discussed in Chapter  6. See especially Philippe Roisse, “Célébrait-​on les offices liturgiques en arabe dans l’Occident musulman? Étude, édition, et traduction d’un Capitulare Evangeliorum arabe (Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Cod. Aumer 238),” in ¿Existe una identidad mozárabe?, ed. Cyrille Aillet, Mayte Penelas, and Philippe Roisse (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2008), 211–​54; and Cyrille Aillet, “Existe-​t-​il une liturgie ‘mozarabe’?,” Cahiers de civilisation médiévale 58 (2015): 378–​86.

Introduction the Christian culture of the northern kingdoms that produced the chant manuscripts. They may even have had a hand in the compilation of L8 itself.58 Central to this culture was a marked neo-​Visigothic impulse. Beginning in the ninth century, the leaders of the northern kingdoms came to see themselves as heirs to the fallen Visigothic kingdom of Toledo and sought to reconstruct the Visigothic glory perceived to have been lost under Islamic rule.59 According to the Chronicle of Albelda, Alfonso II (ca. 760–​842) “created the whole [ceremonial] order of the Goths in Oviedo, as it had been in Toledo.”60 The reasons for the continued use of the Old Hispanic rite undoubtedly lie in this neo-​ Visigothic impetus, also manifest in architectural forms, institutions, and other aspects of culture.61 The rich variety of neumes in L8, along with its tenth-​ century date, raises the probability that the Old Hispanic melodies had begun to be notated by the end of the ninth century, perhaps even earlier.62 Although the 58. On immigration, see Aillet, Les Mozarabes, 247–​79. On León specifically, Gonzalo Martínez Díez, “La emigracíon mozárabe al reino de León, siglos IX y X,” in Mozárabes, Identidad, y continuidad de su historiia, ed. Antonio González Blanco, Rafael González Fernández, and José Antonio Molina Gómez (Murcia: Universidad de Murcia, 2013), 99–​118. On the theory of a southern model for León 8, see, inter alia, Alfred Cordoliani, “Les textes et figures de comput de l’antiphonaire de León,” Archivos Leoneses 8 (1954): 260–​83; Justo Pérez de Urbel, “El Antifonario de León y su modelo de Beja,” Bracara Augusta 22 (1968): 213–​25. On the roles of Mozarabic immigrants in making L8, evidence and further references in Elsa De Luca, “Musical Cryptography and the Early History of the ‘León Antiphoner,’” Early Music History 36 (2017): 105–​58; Elsa De Luca, “Royal Misattribution Monograms in the León Antiphoner,” Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies 9 (2017): 25–​51. 59. Julio Escalona, “Family Memories:  Inventing Alfonso I  of Asturias,” in Building Legitimacy: Political Discourses and Forms of Legitimation in Medieval Societies, ed. Isabel Alfonso, Hugh Kennedy, and Julio Escalona (Leiden:  Brill, 2004), 223–​62; Julia Montenegro and Arcadio del Castillo, “Los títulos de los reyes de León en los documentos medievales como reflejo de la continuidad del reino visigodo de Toledo,” Estudios de historia de España 13 (2011): 33–​36. 60. Yves Bonnaz, ed., Chroniques Asturiennes (fin du IXe siécle) (Paris: Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique, 1987), 24. 61. See, inter alia, Isidro G. Bango Torviso, “El neovisigotismo artístico de los siglos IX y X:  La restauración de ciudades y templos,” Revista de Ideas Estéticas 148 (1979):  35–​54; Isidro G. Bango Torviso, “De la arquitectura visigoda a la arquitectura asturiana: los edificios ovetenses en la tradición de Toledo y frente a Aquisgran,” in L’Europe héritière de l’espagne wisigothique, ed. Jacques Fontaine and Christine Pellistrandi (Madrid:  Casa de Velázquez, 1992) 303–​13; and especially the synthesis in Thomas Deswarte, De la destruction à la restauration: l’idéologie du royaume d’Oviedo-​Léon (VIIIe–​XIe siécles) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003). 62. Susana Zapke defines five “geopolitical spaces” based on notational characteristics of the manuscripts. The first two, Catalonia and Aragon, produced no extant manuscripts preserving the Old Hispanic rite; the others are León-​Castile, Navarre, and Toledo. Zapke, “Notation Systems in the Iberian Peninsula: From Spanish Notations to Aquitanian Notation (9th–​12th Centuries),” in Hispania Vetus: Musical-​Liturgical Manuscript from Visigothic Origins to the Franco-​Roman Transition 9th–​12th Centuries, ed. Susana Zapke (Bilbao: Fundación BBVA, 2007), 189–​242; 192.

17

18 Songs of Sacrifice development of Visigothic notation has not been comprehensively traced,63 it is based on principles similar to the other Western notational scripts broadly known as “Frankish,” thus standing as an index of Carolingian influence.64 The use of a Carolingian technology to preserve Visogothic heritage exemplifies the blend of cultural priorities and influences in the northern kingdoms. Despite the continuity of Visigothic culture into the northern kingdoms, it would be infeasible to assume that the liturgical and melodic tradition remained fixed between the seventh and tenth centuries. Indeed, as noted, the Old Hispanic rite is preserved in two distinct branches, the second appearing in manuscripts only at the end point of its history. Yet the two traditions have common musical roots, as shown in Chapter 6. Crucially, all surviving versions of the melodies share a conception of musical rhetoric and strategies of text setting, suggesting an origin in a common tradition. Strategic musical responses to the text, designed to reinforce its central messages, underlay all versions. Since it is doubtful that the surviving melodies were created ex nihilo, I believe they are likely to be distant descendants of Visigothic melodies. Arguments, however, cannot rest on such speculation. Although I look in Chapters 2 and 3 to the Visigothic period, where the tradition has its origins, I do not see the surviving melodies as a direct window into this epoch. Rather, they are best viewed as examples of text-​setting strategies practiced across Hispania and Narbonnaise Gaul, through different times and cultural milieus. Despite this diversity, the sophisticated understanding of the texts reflected in the melodies suggests some form of continuity with the Visigothic intellectual environment in which the repertory emerged. The Old Hispanic chant, after all, breathed life into Iberian devotional culture for more than five centuries, ending (nearly everywhere) with the Council of Burgos in 1080.This book examines how it did so through the two available entry points: the texts—​likely created in the sixth and seventh centuries—​and the melodies, preserved in manuscripts from the tenth through thirteenth centuries.

63. For introductory studies of Old Hispanic notation, see, inter alia, Gregorio Maria Suñol, Introducció a la paleografia musical gregoriana (Barcelona: Abadia de Montserrat, 1925), 198–​219; Rojo and Prado, El canto mozárabe: estudio histórico-​crítico de su antigüedad y estado actual; Hornby and Maloy, Music and Meaning, 315–​26; and especially the many important studies of Herminio González Barrionuevo referenced in the Bibliography and in Chapter 4. 64. The Carolingian origins of notation is a broad consensus among musicologists. On this topic and the designation “Frankish,” see Susan Rankin, Writing Sounds in Carolingian Europe (Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2018). On the relationship of the Old Hispanic notation to other traditions of neumatic notation, see Michel Huglo, “La notation wisigothique:  est-​elle plus ancienne que les autres notations européens?,” in España en la música de Occidente, 19–​26; and especially Herminio González Barrionuevo, “Relación entre la notación ‘mozárabe’ de tipo vertical y otras escrituras neumáticas,” Studi Gregoriani 11 (1995):  5–​112.

1

The Sacrificium

W

ithin the Old Hispanic mass, the sacrificium marked the transition between the word of God and its mystical fulfillment in the Eucharist. This function is reflected in its textual content. Most sacrificia incorporate Old Testament narratives of sacrifice, the temple, festivals, and the priesthood. In exegetical traditions known in Visigothic Iberia, these are interpreted as being precedents for the Eucharistic sacrifice, the church, the liturgical year, and the Christian priesthood.1 These themes tend to appear in particular orders within the sacrificia. The first section of the chant usually consists of a sacrifice narrative, chosen from a wide range of Old Testament sources, and the subsequent sections recount various Old Testament stories, often related to the liturgical occasion on which it was sung.With these customary ways of making texts, the sacrificia are linked to the Eucharistic sacrifice through the allegorical or typological sense of scripture: the rituals, people, and narratives of the Old Testament are seen as types that were fulfilled by Christ and enacted in Christian life and ritual.2 As a prelude to the closer textual and musical analysis that comprises Chapters 3, 4, and 5, this chapter introduces the genre, touching on the liturgical contexts, the shape of the repertory as a whole, and how the creators of the repertory used and adapted scripture. The typological sense of scripture that pervades the sacrificium is stated explicitly in Isidore’s description of it. He finds the beginning of the offertory in the Old Testament, in the trumpets sounded as the sacrificial victims were being offered. In this way, he connects these carol images to the practice of singing the offertory in his own time: The Book of Ecclesiasticus is proof that the ancients customarily sang offertories, which are sung in honor of sacrifices, as the sacrificial victims were being offered. For so it says: “The priest stretched out his hand in libation and he poured the blood of 1. Further discussion and references in Chapter 3. 2. I use the term “allegorical” interchangeably with “typological,” primarily because it was used in this sense in seventh-​century Iberia and because it is a term likely to be understood by nonspecialists. It is not without problems, however. See R. A. Markus, Signs and Meanings: World and Text in Ancient Christianity (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1996). Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

20 Songs of Sacrifice the grape in offering, and at the foot of the altar he poured out a divine odor to the highest prince. Then the sons of Aaron exclaimed in trumpets of wrought metal, and they made a great sound to be heard in remembrance before God.” [Ecclesiasticus 50:16–​18]. No differently even now, we rouse up songs in the sound of the trumpet, that is, in a proclamation of the voice, and likewise we manifestly jubilate in that true sacrifice by whose blood the world has been saved, declaiming praises to the Lord with heart and body.3

Isidore’s remarks encapsulate some of the central allegories that underlie the existing repertory. Most sacrificia begin with an Old Testament description of building an altar and making a sacrifice, just as in Isidore’s description of the chant. In quoting Ecclesiasticus 50:16, Isidore invokes the priestly sons of Aaron who offer the sacrifice. Aaron and his sons also figure prominently in many extant sacrificia.4 For Isidore and other patristic exegetes, they prefigure the Christian episcopacy and priesthood.5 Further on in the cited passage, the priest “pour(s) out a divine odor to the highest prince” and the sons of Aaron blow trumpets “in remembrance before God.” Even these images, the sounding trumpet and the divine odor, find their way into many sacrificia.6 In Isidore’s corpus they have a rich array of typological meanings, all related to aspects of the church or Christian life. Two of the sacrificia, Amplificare oblationem and Stans sacerdos, are based on the passage of Ecclesiasticus that Isidore cites. The sacrificia thus follow Isidore’s precedent in implicitly placing the origin of the Christian Eucharist in the Old Testament. These correspondences between Isidore’s commentary and the existing repertory imply at least a thematic link between the sacrificia and the offertory chants familiar to him.7 The date of De ecclesiasticis officiis, written between 598 3. “Offertoria quae in sacrificiorum honore canuntur Ecclesiasticus liber indicio est ueteres cantare solitos quando uictimae immolabantur. Sic enim dicit: Porrexit, inquid, sacerdos manum suam in libationem et libauit de sanguine uuae et fudit in fundamento altaris odorem diuinum excelso principi. Tunc exclamauerunt filii Aaron in tubis productilibus et sonauerunt et auditam fecerunt magnam uocem in memoriam coram deo. Non aliter et nunc in sonitu tubae, id est in uocis praedicatione, cantus accendimus, simul que corde et corpore laudes domino declamantes iubilamus in illo scilicet uero sacrificio, cuius sanguine salvatus est mundus.” Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis officiis, I.ix. CCSL 113, 16. 4. For example, Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum, Locutus est dominus ad Moysen dicens, Elevavit aaron munera, and Stans sacerdos. 5. Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis officiis, II.v. CCSL 113, 56–​57. 6. The sound of the sacrificial trumpet appears in Amplificare oblationem, Accepit librum, Congregavit David, and Aedificabit Moyses altare. The odor often appears as a “sweet odor” (odorem suavitatis), as in Stans sacerdos, Aedificavit Noe, Sanctificavit, Elevavit Aaron, Deprecatus est, Paratum panem, Alleluia oblati iusti, and Sollemnem habeatus. See also In pascha domini and Elegit dominus (“incensum aromatum”) and Sicut cedrus exaltata sum (in a different context). 7. Rebecca Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and the Early History of Plainsong,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 67 (2014): 1–​76.

The Sacrificium and 615, suggests that similar chants were known on the Iberian Peninsula by the end of the sixth century. The repertory, in fact, likely had sixth-​century Gallican antecedents, as I  argue in Chapter  7.8 Isidore states that his brother Leander, who died in 599, created chants “in sacrificio quoque, laudibus atque psalmi.”9 It is unclear whether “sacrificio” here refers to the specific chant genre, or whether the passage should be taken more broadly, to mean chants for the entire Eucharistic sacrifice—​the mass. In either case, the passage attests to the composition of chant at the turn of the seventh century, and this almost certainly included offertories. The sacrificia are also connected to Isidore’s writings in a broader sense: nearly every biblical passage used in the sacrificia receives extensive commentary in the patristic texts that were transmitted into Visigothic Iberia through his writings.Viewed in the light of these texts, the sacrificia are rife with images central to their liturgical role: church, Eucharist, and priesthood. As the chants were sung, the Old Testament types they invoke were fulfilled in the bringing forth of the bread and wine and in the Eucharistic sacrifice that followed, forming a visual and aural counterpoint. By enacting these typological intepretations of sacrifice, the chant and liturgy were designed to convey them to those who participated in the mass and imprint them into their souls.10 In addition to these spiritual and didactic roles, the sacrificia also contributed to the formation of communal identity, through their connections to contemporaneous anti-​ Jewish discourse.11

The Iberian Offertory Rite We possess no detailed description of the Iberian offertory rite, either from the Visigothic period or from the time of the surviving liturgical manuscripts. Given its similarities to the Old Hispanic rite, the Gallican liturgy offers the closest point of comparison. The Expositio on the Gallican liturgy, dated to the eighth century, employs Isidore’s De ecclesiasticis officiis as one of its principal sources.12 Although the passage dealing with the offertory is not directly dependent on Isidore, the Expositio draws on the same sacrifice typology,

8. On the Gallican precedents, see Chapter 7, pp. 246–50. 9. Isidore of Seville, De viris illustribus XXVIII. El “De viris illustribus” de Isidoro de Sevilla, ed. Carmen Codoñer Merino (Salamanca: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto “Antonio de Nebrija,” Colegio Trilingüe de la Universidad, 1964), 150. 10. On the senses as making an imprint into the soul in late-​antique Christian thought, see Carol Harrison, The Art of Listening in the Early Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 87–​102. 11. See Chapter 3, pages 96–103. 12. On the eighth-​century date of this text, see Chapter 7, note 21.

21

22 Songs of Sacrifice contrasting the Old Testament sacrifices with that of Christ. Similar to the Byzantine Great Entrance, the Gallican offertory procession described in the Expositio consisted of bringing the bread and wine from the sacristy to the altar, in vessels called “towers” (turres), as the offertory chant was sung.13 In contrast to the Roman rite, the Expositio does not mention a lay offering, suggesting that these gifts had been received before the mass.14 While the precise nature of the Gallican offertory chant has been subject to debate, the turres and the offertory procession are confirmed in other descriptions of the Gallican liturgy.15 It is probable that the Old Hispanic liturgy, too, had a procession in which the bread and wine were carried from the sacristy to the altar and that, as in the Gallican rite, the offering of the faithful had been received before the mass.16 For the congregation, the placement of the bread and wine on the altar would constitute a culminating visual moment. This action was central to the definition of “sacrificium” for Isidore: a sacrifice is “a victim and whatever is burnt or placed on the altar,”17 implying a connection between this action and the name of the chant. In the existing sacrificia, each musical section is increasingly devoted to the singing of untexted music, associated in late antiquity with “jubilation,” or the wordless praise of God.18 Isidore, in fact, closes his description of the offertory, cited earlier, with a reference to jubilation: “we manifestly jubilate in that true sacrifice by whose blood the world has been saved.” These climactic sections of the chant may have corresponded to the placement of the “sacrifices” on the altar, along with the subsequent preparation of the bread and wine. If so, the aural and visual would have worked together to underline the importance and meaning of this central part of the mass.

13. Philippe Bernard, ed., Epistolae de ordine sacrae oblationis et de diversis charismatibus ecclesiae, vol. 187, CCSL (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), 345–​46. For further discussion of and bibliography on the Expositio, see Chapter 7, pp. 246–49. 14. Joseph Dyer, “The Offertories of Old-​ Roman Chant:  A Musico-​ Liturgical Investigation,” PhD diss. Boston University, 1971, 57–​63. 15. See discussion in Chapter 7 and references in Philippe Bernard, Transitions liturgiques en Gaule carolingienne: une traduction commentée des deux “lettres” faussement attribuées à l’évêque Germain de Paris (fin du VIIIe siécle) (Paris: Hora decima, 2008), 178–​81. 16. Dyer, “The Offertories of Old-​Roman Chant,” 64–​66. 17. “Sacrificium autem est uictima et quaecumque in ara cremantur seu ponuntur.” Etymologiarum sive orginum libri XX, VI.19, ed.W. M. Lindsay (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1911), 248–​49. 18. On jubilation, see Chapter 5, pp. 166–7.

The Sacrificium

Performance Forces, Topics, and Structure of the Repertory The surviving sources provide limited information about the performance of the sacrificium. The longest of the mass chants, sacrificia typically consist of three or four distinct sections, indicated with Roman numerals. A closing portion of the first section usually serves as a repetendum, recurring at the end of each subsequent section. At first glance, the similarities between this repetendum form and that of the Franco-​Roman offertory and gradual would seem to imply that the sacrificia were responsorial chants, characterized by alternation between a choir and soloist. The rubrics, however, do not support this. In contrast to the Old Hispanic responsories (and the Franco-​Roman offertories), the sections of sacrificia that follow the first are not designated as “verses,” and the performance forces remain unclear. In the Epistola ad Leudefredum, the sacrificium is described as the responsibility of the psalmist, implying that it was performed, at least in part, by soloists.The role played by the chorus—​if any—​is not specified. As Don Randel has argued, the entire chant may in fact have been performed by soloists.19 In addition to their sacrifice focus, the sacrificia are thematically proper to the liturgical seasons and feasts throughout the year.These topics are developed either through biblical typology, building on existing traditions of exegesis, or, occasionally, through the use of relevant New Testament passages. For the temporale, the annual cycle of feasts of the Lord, most sacrificia were sung only once during the year and have strong thematic connections to either that day or season.20 The chosen scripture was often altered to adapt it to a particular day. For the saints’ festivals, such unique assignment was less common. As a framework for the more detailed look at scriptural reworking offered in Chapter 3, here I survey these thematic and structural features of the repertory and consider their implications for its history.21 In León 8 (L8), the only manuscript to preserve most of the temporale cycle, the Sundays and temporale festivals have a nearly complete cycle of uniquely assigned sacrificia. (See Table 1.1; unique liturgical assignments within L8 are 19. Don M. Randel, “Leander, Gregory, and Isidore,” Journal of Musicology 26 (2019): 517–​ 18. On the Epistola ad Leudefredum, see the discussion in the Introduction, p. 12. For a close look at the performance forces in responsorial chants, see Randel, “Responsorial Psalmody,” 72–​93. As Randel notes, many responsorial chants are described as being sung by “two or three at a time” in one of the prologues of the León antiphoner. The sacrificium, however, is not included in that description. 20. I  use James McKinnon’s term “properization” to describe this phenomenon. See McKinnon, The Advent Project: The Later-​Seventh-​Century Creation of the Roman Mass Proper. 21. Some of this material summarizes work that was developed fully in Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and the Early History.”

23

Coming of Christ Coming of Christ Coming of Christ

Lenten fast

a. Jesus’ temptations, 40-​day  Lent b. Easter c. 49 days until Pentecost

Prophecy

Prophecy Prophecy

Prophecy Keeping the commandments of the Lord a. Moses, 40 days fasting b. Passover c. Festival of Weeks Day of Atonement

“a sacrifice to God is an afflicted spirit...”

*Ego Daniel (Daniel 9:2–​9; 7:13–​14; 7:9–​10)

*Veniet ad te (Isaiah 60:11, 14; 54:8)

*Ingressus est Daniel (Daniel 3:90; 10:17–​ Prophecy 18; 12:1, 4, 9; 9:24–​25) Prophecy

*Ecce ostendit (Zach. 3:1; 1:16–​17; 8:3, 7–​8, 12–​13)

*Parvulus natus est nobis (Isaiah 9:6, 7, 2)

*Omnes de Saba (Isaiah 60:5; 45:14; 60:19–​20)

Si in praeceptis (Leviticus 26:3–​4, 6, 11)

*Multiplicavit a. Deuteronomy 10:22; 11:1–​2 b. Deuteronomy 9:15–​19 c. Deuteronomy 16:1–​4, 10

*Hii dies exorationis (Leviticus 23:27, 29)

Sacrificium deo (Psalm 50:19–​20)

Advent 2

Advent 3

Advent 4

Advent 5

Christmas

Epiphany

Sunday before Lent

In carnes tollendas

Lent I

Lent II

Christian typology

*Regnabit dominus (Isaiah 24:23; 22:21–​23)

Advent 1

sacrifice

Necessity of fasting (Tertullian) September Ember Day (Leo, Isidore)

Epiphany

Coming of Christ

Coming of Christ

Coming of Christ

Festival or theme Prophecy

Sacrificium (León 8)

Assignment

Table 1.1 Temporale Sacrificia in León 8 Biblical version

Assignment in other sources

n/​a

Lent III (T5)

Same (T5)e

unicum

Vulgated

Vetus latina (African)

Same (A30) Quotidiano (T7) Apostolic litanies (BL46)

Same (A30, BL44)

Same (A30, T7)

Same (A30)

Same (A30)

Same (A30)

Same (A30)

Same (A30)

Vulgate

Vetus latina (African text C)

Mixedc

?

?b

Vulgatea

Vetus latina (African tradition)

Vetus latina (text)

Sacrifice

Sacrifice Sacrifice

n/​a Sacrifice n/​a

Law/​blood of the covenant

Serviamus (Version 1) (Joshua 22:27; 23:6)

Ab absconsis (Psalm 18:13–​14)

In simplicitate cordis (1 Chronicles 29:27, 18)

*In tempore illo (John 11:55; 12:13; 12:1–​ Entrance into Jerusalem 3; 12:12, 16, 23, 13)

Woman who anointed Jesus with oil

Offerte domino mundum (Psalm 28:1–​2)

Serviamus (version 2) (Joshua 22:27; 23:6; 23:10–​11)

Ingressus dominus Ihesus in domum (Matthew 26:6–​7; Luke 7:38; John 12:3; Luke 7:39, 47; Matthew 26:10)

*Accepit librum (Exodus 24: 7–​8; 35: 1–​ 10; 20:18–​20)

Lenten ferias: Mon. Week 1; Mon. Week 4

Lenten ferias: Wed. Week 2

Wed. Week 1

Lenten ferias: Mon. Week I; and Wed Week V

Palm Sunday

Mon. Holy Week

Tues. Holy Week

Wed. Holy Week

New covenant

Sacrifice

a. Passover b. Festival of Tabernacles

*Isti sunt dies quos a. Leviticus 23:4–​6 b. Leviticus 23:34, 39–​40

Lent IV a. Easter Vigil/​Sunday b. Palm Sunday (Syrian lectionary)

Mercy

Averte domine faciem (Psalm 50:11, 3–​6, 12)

Lent III

Vetus latina (African)

Vetus latina

Vulgate

Vulgate

Vetus Latina?

?g

Vulgate

?f

Vetus latina?

n/​a

Same (T5)

(continued )

Dom. II (T5, different melody)

Same (T5)

D3 uno infirmo, votive mass (L8) Monday week I; Holy Saturday (S4); Holy Thursday (A56, S4); Pro sacerdote (S3, S4)

Pro sacerdote (A56, S4)

Good Friday (A56)

Various Lenten ferias (T5)

Same (T5)

Same (S4) Pro sacerdote (S3), de uno defuncto (S3, S3)

Resurrection story Resurrection story Passover Lamb of God Passover

Passover, crossing Red Sea Easter, baptism

Resurrection Firstfruits Passover

*Alleluia angelus domini (Matthew 28: 2–​6)

*Alleluia temporibus (Matthew 28: 8–​10; Luke 24:26)

In pascha domini (Numbers 28:16–​18, 22–​23)

*Ecce agnus dei (John 1:29; Ps. 106)

*Sollemnem habeatis (Numbers 28:16–​24)

[repeat of Monday]

*Erit hic vobis (Exodus 12:14; 14:14; 13:3)

*Haec dicit dominus qui erat (Apocalypse 1:8; 2:8; 1:5–​6; 5:11; 7:10–​11; 14:1–​2) *(alia) Alleluia quasi carmen (Ezekiel 33:32; 47:12) *(alia) Isti sunt dies festi (Leviticus 23:2; 20:24; 26:5–​6)

Easter Vigil

Easter Sunday

Mon.

Tue.

Wed.

Thur.

Fri.

Sat.

n/​a Return of the alleluia Easter

Easter

n/​a

Easter

n/​a

n/​a

New covenant

Institution narrative Institution narrative Moses, law

Mass I: *Dominus . . . in qua nocte (1 Corinthians 11:23–​25) *(alia): Dominus . . . misit (Luke 22: 8, 15; Matthew 26:26–​29) Mass II: *Aedificavit Moses altare (Exodus 24:4–​5; 19:9–​11, 14)

Holy Thurs

Christian typology

Festival or theme

Sacrificium (León 8)

Assignment

Table 1.1 Continued

Vulgate? Vulgate Vulgate

Vetus latina (Lyon heptateuch)

Vetus latina?

Vulgate, Roman psalter

Vulgate

Vulgate

Vetus latina

Vetus latina Vulgate? Vetus latina

Biblical version

Holy Cross (BM46, T4, T6) unicum

Sat. Easter Week (T5)

Tu. Easter Week (T5)

Easter Sunday (T5)

Same (T5)

Easter, Weekdays of Easter Week (BM46)

Same (T5)

Unicum Unicum Same (T5) Quotidiano (S6, T4)

Assignment in other sources

n/​a n/​a n/​a

Aspexi et vidi (Apocalypse 20:4, 11, 5; 13; Final resurrection 5:6; 1:13–​14, 17)

*Locutus est dominus Ihesus . . . amen dico Ascension (John 14:12, 28–​29)

Keeping precepts Spirit Pentecost

*Stetit angelus (Apocalypse 8:3–​5; 5:1–​9)

*Vidi in caelo (Apocalypse 7:9–​12; 4:1–​5)

Si in praeceptis (repeat)

Haec dicit . . . effundam (Joel 2:19–​29)

*Dum complerentur (Acts 2:1–​2)

Dom. III

Dom. IV

Ascension

Dom. post Asc.

Fri. litanies

Sat. litanies

Pentecost

n/​a

Pentecost

Easter/​49 days to Pentecost

Vetus latina

Vetus latina

Vulgate

Vetus latina

Vulgate

Vetus latina

Vetus latina

Vulgate

Vetus latina

n/​a

Same (T4, T6)

unicum

See above, Sunday before Lent

Same (T4, BL44, BL46)

Same (T4, T6, BL44, BL46)

Same (T4, T6)

Same (T4, T6, BL46) Saint Engratia (L8, BL46)

Same (T4, T6, BL46)

Same (T4, T6, BL46)

Same (T4, T6, BL46)

* Indicates unique assignment within León 8. a With certain untraceable variants in the final verse. b Veniet ad te and Ingressus est Daniel have too many modifications to the biblical text to determine their textual basis. c The respond is based on the African version of the VL, whereas the verses appear to be based on the Vulgate, with some VL vocabulary. d With certain untraceable variants. e The Lenten Sundays are labeled differently in T5, according to Roman custom, so that In carnes tollendas in L8 = Lent I in T5, Lent I in L8 = Lent II in T5, and so on. In the table, T5 is adjusted to conform to L8’s labeling. f The text has been too modified from the scriptural source to tell which psalter it derives from. g This text does not match any of the psalter readings in Weber’s Le psautier romain et les autres psautiers latins, 37.

Offering theme, vision

n/​a

Passover, Omer ritual, Festival of Weeks

*Audi Israhel preceptum (Deut 9:1, 16:1–​ 2, 7–​10, 14–​15)

Dom. II

n/​a

Resurrection story

*Alleluia prima sabbatorum (Mark 16:1–​7)

Dom. I

Deliverance, dedication Easter Week

Hanukkah story, dedication, 8-​day celebration

*Omnis populus adoraverunt (1 Macc. 4, 13)

Octave

28 Songs of Sacrifice indicated by an asterisk.22) Most Lenten weekdays, by contrast, do not have specific sacrificia assigned to them.23 L8’s temporale cycle is also highly specific thematically, drawing primarily on Old Testament prophecies or typologies that connect the chants to their assigned festivals. These are summarized in Table 1.1, cols. 3 and 4. On some major festivals, such as Easter, Pentecost, and Palm Sunday, sacrificia are instead taken from the relevant New Testament narratives, often drawing from the gospel reading of the day. Many of these assignments probably became stabilized in the course of the seventh century. As noted, the similarities between L8 and the early eighth-​ century Orationale of Verona point to such standardization within the office, and it is likely that the mass developed concurrently. In the existing manuscripts, the consistency of liturgical assignments within tradition A reinforces this impression, though the fragmentary survival of sources precludes a full comparison with L8 throughout the liturgical year. (See Table 1.1, col. 6. A full list of manuscripts and sigla is provided in the Appendix.) The single substantial witness to the mass chants of tradition B, T5, includes only Lent and the beginning of Easter Week. Its repertory is similar to that of L8, but with some different liturgical assignments (Table 1.1, col. 6), implying that in certain cases, the creation of the chants preceded their permanent assignment to particular festivals.24 By comparison, the saints’ festivals (Table 1.2a)25 show fewer indices of early properization: more variance in assignment, fewer unique assignments, and only a handful of sacrificia that are thematically specific to particular saints.26 Most sanctorale chants are uniquely assigned within L8, with only eight exceptions. Many of these chants, however, have different assignments in other tradition A sources, though here, too, the fragmentary state of the manuscripts prevents a full comparison. (See Table 1.2a, col. 4.) Fewer than half of the sacrificia 22. In Tables 1.1, 1.2, and 1.3, the books of the Bible are titled according to their English biblical names rather than the Vulgate. 23. This points to a lesser degree of properization in the Old Hispanic repertory, compared to that of the Roman rite. The two manuscripts to include the Lenten weekdays, L8 and T5, provide a small number of sacrificia that were presumably recycled throughout the season. With the exception of threni and psalmi, this is the case for other Mass proper genres as well. See Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants: Psalmi, Threni, and the Easter Vigil Canticles (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2013); and Rebecca Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and Early History of Plainsong,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 67 (2014): 1–​76. 24. Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and Early History of Plainsong,” 56–​68. 25. The chants are listed in the order in which they appear in L8. 26. As Table 1.2, col. 4, shows, those designated as uniquely assigned include some that have general uses in later manuscripts, such as commons of virgins or as part of the quotidiano cycle in T4. I consider these to be later, secondary assignments, though other explanations are possible.

The Sacrificium Table 1.2a  Sanctorale Sacrificia in León 8 Sacrificium

Biblical version

Liturgical assignment in L8 and correspondences in other manuscripts

Variant assignments in other manuscripts

Locutus est dominus . . . ecce ego (Matthew 10:16, 19–​20, 17–​18)

Vulgate

James

Vincent, Sabina, and Christeta (BL45)

Venite benedicti (Matthew 25:34, 31–​36; 13:43)

Vetus Latina

Simon and Jude Peter and Paul Acisclus

Thyrsus (A30) Faustus and Martial (BL45) Torquatus (T4) Peter and Paul (T6)

Regnum est potestas (Daniel 7:27; 12:1, 3–​4)

Vulgate?

Michael (also S5) Christopher Romanus (also A30, (BL45) BL95) Torquatus (BL46)

Omnes viri (Exodus 35:29; 15:11, 16, 17)

Mixed Vetus Latina/​Vulgate

Cecilia (also BL44) Julian, Dorothy, Eugenia

Adrian and Natalia (BL45, T6) Euphemia (BL 45)

Stans sacerdos (Ecclesiasticus 50:13–​15, 6–​8, 11, 16–​18)

Vetus Latina?

Saturnius

Chair of Peter (BL44) Martin (BL45, S5)

Fulgebit (Daniel 12:3; Wisdom Vetus Latina 3:7–​8; Ecclesiasticus 18:9–​11)

John the Apostle Andrew (also A30, BL44)

Felix (BL45) Mamertus (BL45) Genesius (BL45) Stephen (BL44, T7) Common (S3)

Munera accepta (Isaiah 56:7; 60:10–​11, 13–​15)

Vetus Latina

Leocadia (also A30)

Aemilianus (BL45) Common (S6)

*Alleluia magna facta (Judith 16:16; 11:21; 13:31; 15:10)

Vulgate

Eulalia of Merida (also A30)

Common of virgins (S3)

*Prope est (Zephaniah 1:14, 7; Vulgate 3:14–​15; 1:7; 3:15–​17)

Mary (also A30, BL 44, T7)

*Alleluia elegerunt (Acts 6:5; 7:59; 6:9–​10, 15; 7:58)

Vulgate

Stephen (also A30, as an office sonus)

Sapientia iustum (Wisdom 10:10; Proverbs 3:17; Ecclesiasticus 14:2; 31:8–​9)

Vetus latina

James, brother of the Lord (also BL45) Andrew Felix (also T6)

Augustine (BL45) Beheading of John (BL45)

Ego servus (Psalm 115:16–​17, 10, 18–​19)

Verona Psalter

Cucuphas (also BL45, T6)

Common of bishops (A56, S4) Common of priests (S4) Votive mass (S3, S4) (continued )

29

30 Songs of Sacrifice Table 1.2a Continued Sacrificium

Biblical version

Liturgical assignment in L8 and correspondences in other manuscripts

Variant assignments in other manuscripts

Elegit dominus (Exodus 31:2–​ 3; 24:4; 40:25; 25:9; 25:1–​2, 7–​8; 28:1–​3)

Vulgate

John the Evangelist (also A30, T7)

Cyprian (BL 45) Quotidiano (T4)

*Sicut turris (Song of Songs 4:4, 7, 10; 5:12–​15; 3:6–​7)

Vetus Latina

Columba the Virgin Assumption (BL45, (also A 30, BL44) T7)a Common of virgins

*Data est lex (Leviticus 12:6–​ Vetus Latina? 7, 2–​3)

Circumcision (also A 30, BL44, S3, T4, T7)

*Alleluia palmae (Apocalypse 7:9–​10; 6:11; 14:4–​5)

Vetus Latina?

Holy Innocents (also A30)

*Locutus est Daniel (Daniel 2:18–​19; 7:9–​10; 3:34, 35, 49–​50)

Vulgateb

Fructuosus (also A 30)

*Haec dicit dominus formans (Isaiah 44:2, 3–​4, 21–​22)

Vulgate

Vincent of Saragossa (also A 30)

Sicut cedrus (Ecclesiasticus 24:17–​20, 21–​23, 19–​20)

Probably Vulgate

Agatha (also M418) Eulalia of Common of virgins Barcelona (A30)

Aspexi et vidi (Apocalypse 20:1, Vetus Latina 4; 5:6; 20:6; 1:13, 14, 17; 20:5)

Engratia (also BL46)

Third Sunday after Easter (L8, BL46, T4, T6)

Mirabilis (Psalm 67:36, 16–​19)

Mozarabic psalter

Dorothy Torquatus

James (BL44) Servandus and Germanus (BL44) Sunday after Holy Innocents (A30)

Apparebit tibi (Jeremiah 31:3, 4, 7)

Vetus Latina?

Eulalia of Barcelona Columba Common of virgins

*Circuibo et immolabo (Psalm 26:6, 3–​4)

Verona psalter (African tradition)

Chair of Peter (also A30, M418)

*Sacerdos Zacharias (Luke 1:5–​ Vulgate 6, 11, 13–​15, 67–​69, 76–​77)

John the Baptist (also BL45,T6, MSC)

*Alleluia clamor factus (Matthew 25:6, 7, 10)

Vetus Latina?

Iusta and Rufina (also BL45, T6)

*Amplificare oblationem (Ecclesiasticus 50:15, 18–​19; 47:11; 50:5, 7–​8, 22, 30–​31)

Vulgate?

Iustus and Pastor (also BL45, T6)

De iter agentibus (S3)

Common of virgins (S3, S6)

The Sacrificium Table 1.2a Continued Variant assignments in other manuscripts

Sacrificium

Biblical version

Liturgical assignment in L8 and correspondences in other manuscripts

*Sacerdotes offerunt munera (Isaiah 65:23–​24, 15–​16, 24)

Vetus latina

Laurence (also A30, BL45)

Ego dominus creavi (Isaiah 41:9–​10, 17, 16; 42:6–​7, 23; 43:1–​2, 4)

Probably Vetus Latina

Ordination of St. Martin Clement (also A 30)

*Alleluia oblatio iusti (Ecclesiasticus 35:8, 9; 39:27)

?

Genesius (also A30, BL44)

*Si enim sapientiam (Proverbs 2:3–​6, 10–​12)

Vulgate

Augustine

Iustitiam tuam (Psalm 39:11, 9–​10)

Matches Roman psalter

Beheading of John

Genesius (HUC)

*Oravi deum (Daniel 9:4, 17–​ Vetus Latina 18, 20–​23)

Jerome

Quotidiano (T4)

Vos sancti (Isaiah 61:6–​7; 66:10)

Vulgate

Cosmas and Damian

Common (S3, S6)

Haec dicit . . . dabo (Isaiah 56:1, 5; 66:20–​21)

?c

Servandus and Germanus Babila

Cosmas and Damian (BL45) Emeterius and Caledonius (M418) Thyrsus (M418)

Omnis qui me (Matthew 10:32, 39)

Vetus Latina

Emilianus Common of confessors (also S3)

Jerome (BL45) Martin (BL 45, M418, MSC)

*Indicates consistent assignment between manuscripts a Since the Assumption is a later festival, this is undoubtedly a secondary assignment, so I have listed it as uniquely assigned. b There is one VL variant in section III, “ut cognoscant” instead of “et sciant,” and a possible one in section I, “queramus” intead of “ut quaererent.” c There are too many modifications to the biblical source to be certain.

assigned to saints’ festivals in Table 1.2a have consistent assignments across tradition A manuscripts (17/​37).27 These are indicated with an asterisk. Table 1.2b shows the small list of chants performed on particular occasions, such as the dedication of a church, ordinations, and masses for the sick. Here, too, the manuscripts are variant. L8 includes a series of thematically specific chants for 27. Similar tendencies have been noted in the office vespertinus, in comparison of the temporale and sanctorale. See Raquel Rojo-​Carillo, “Text, Liturgy, and Music in the Old Hispanic Rite: The Vespertinus Genre” (PhD thesis, University of Bristol, 2017), 181–​209. The main source for the tradition B sacrificia, T5, has no chants for saints’ festivals.

31

Table 1.2b  Occasional Sacrificia in León 8 Sacrificium

Biblical version

Assignments and manuscripts

*In medio crepidinis (Joel 2:17, 13, Vetus Latina 15–​16)

Canonic litanies (also BL45)

Locutus est David (1 Chronicles 15:12, 14–​16; 16:27; 2 Chronicles 2:12, 3:5–​6, 15; 4:1)

Vulgate

Dedication (L8)

Aedificavit Salomon (1 Kings 6:14; 2 Chronicles 6:11; 1 Kings 8:3–​6; 9:3; 7:51)

Vulgate?

Dedication (L8)

Audi Israhel quia magna (Baruch ? 3:24–​25, 38; 4:21, 24; Tobit 13:11, 15, 19)

Restoration of a church (L8)

Quotidiano (T4)

Locutus est . . . ecce vocavi (Exodus 31:1, 3; 35:30, 32; 28:1, 41; 29:44)

Vulgate

Ordination of bishop (L8)

Quotidiano (T4)

Locutus est dominus ad principem (2 Chronicles 7:18; 8:12; 6:12–​ 14; 1 Kings 3:5; 1 Chronicles 22:10; 2 Chronicles 6:3)

Vetus Latina?a

Ordination (L8)

Ingressus Ihesus in domum Petri (Matthew 8:14–​15; 26:6–​7; Luke 7:38; John 12:3; Luke 4:40)

Vetus Latina

De infirmis (L8, S4, S4)

Offerimus tibi (2 Maccabees 12:43, 45, 46)

Vulgate

Pro defunctis (L8)

Quid dignum (Micah 6:6, 8)

Vetus Latina

Votive masses (L8)

In simplicitate (1 Chronicles 29:17, 18)

?

De uno infirmo Votive masses (L8)

Elevavit sacerdos (2 Maccabees 1:26?)

?

Votive masses (L8, S3) Quotidiano (T4 and S3)

Exaudiat nos (Psalm 19:2, 3, 4, 10)

Mozarabic psalter?

Votive masses (L8, A56, S4)

Suscipe domine sacrificium (2 Maccabees 1:26)

Vetus Latina?

Votive masses (L8)

Tollite hostias (Psalm 95:8, 1)

Mozarabic psalter

Apostolic litanies (T4, BL46)

Offeramus domino sacrificium (Joshua 22:27)

Vulgate

De missa omnimoda (A56, S3)

Vota tua (Psalm 49:14; Job 2:3)

n/​a

Pro sacerdote (S3) De uno justo (S3, S6)

Requiem nobis dabit (Isaiah 58:11) Vulgate

De defunctis (S3)

There are too few surviving sources of the VL to determine the source text.

a

Other uses

Lenten weekdays (L8 and S4) Holy Thursday (A56 and S4)

Quotidiano (S3)

The Sacrificium dedication and ordination that are not found in other manuscripts, and the other manuscripts contain a handful of chants not present in L8. Some of the variant assignments in the sanctorale are undoubtedly attributable to expected variations of local and regional practice in saints’ observances.28 Others, however, may point to a late stabilization for much of the sanctorale. Only a small group of festivals has assignments that are both unique within L8 and consistent across manuscripts. Festivals with a diversity of assignment include both universal saints of high rank, such as apostles, and Iberian saints such as Eulalia of Barcelona and Torquatus. L8, for example, has a uniquely assigned sacrificium for Stephen, Alleluia elegerunt, based on the story of his martyrdom from Acts, whereas BL44 and S3 each assign a different, shared sacrificium to Stephen, lacking the thematic specificity of Alleluia elegerunt.The lack of a common practice for these festivals suggests that sacrificia for saints’ festivals may have been subject to ad hoc selection for longer than those of the temporale. Their lack of thematic specificity is consistent with this impression: most, from prophetic or wisdom books, are appropriate to multiple saints.29 The cycle for the common Sundays following Epiphany and Pentecost, called quotidiano (Table 1.3), is based on a series of stories from the Old Testament, arranged in chronological order.30 As the table shows, this repertory is preserved most fully in T4 (col. 1), a thirteenth-​century manuscript from Toledo, and only partially in L8 (col. 2) and S6 (col. 3). The last folios of L8 are missing, suggesting that L8’s cycle was originally longer. The local and regional differences between these cycles, within tradition A, suggest that each is derived from a common core of material that was expanded regionally or locally. Many of these chants were also performed on other occasions, a borrowing that further implies a later compilation of these cycles.31 Most of the quotidiano sacrificia begin with an offering narrative and continue by recounting events in salvation history (see Table 1.3, col. 4). All these stories have established typological meanings in the patristic traditions carried forward by Isidore. The quotidiano cycle, in fact, incorporates the two Old Testament stories most relevant to the sacrifice typology: Melchisedek’s 28. BL44 and BL45, in particular, contain formularies for many saints that are not found in L8. Although it is not reflected in the table, L8 differs in similar respects from the OV, which includes several Tarragona martyrs that do not have formularies in L8. 29. These exceptions are thematically specific to their festivals: Data est lex (Circumcision), Locutus est Daniel (Fructuosus), Amplificare oblationem (Justus and Pastor), Sacerdos Zacharias (John the Baptist), and Alleluia elegerunt (Stephen). In addition, a case for thematic specificity can be made for Haec dicit . . . formans te (Vincent of Saragossa; see Chapter 2, p. 67); Alleluia palmae fuerunt for Holy Innocents, which stresses the theme of innocence; and Circuibo (Chair of Peter), because of a long-​standing connection between Psalm 26 and St. Peter. 30. This was first described in Jordi Pinell, “Repertorio del ‘sacrificium’ (canto ofertorial del rito hispánico) para el ciclo dominical ‘de quotidiano,’” Ecclesia orans 1 (1984): 57–​111. 31. As argued more fully in Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and the Early History of Plainsong,”  43–​52.

33

Isaac and Rebecca, sacrifice

Moses on Mt. Sinai, sacrifice Priesthood

In temporibus

Sanctificavit Sacerdotes domini offerte insensum (Leviticus 7:5 or Numbers 15:25; Numbers 10:8)

Melchisedec rex

Aedificavit Abraham

In temporibus (Genesis 24:1–​4, 7, 11–​ 12, 15–​20, 31, 33, 51–​52, 64–​67)

Sanctificavit

Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum

Melchisedec rex (Genesis 14:18–​19; 13:14–​15, 18; 15: 9–​12, 17–​18)

Aedificavit Abraham altare (Genesis 22:9, 13, 2–​3, 12–​13)

Sanctificavit (Exodus 24:4–​5; 34:2–​ 5, 8–​10; 33:13–​14, 20–​23)

Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum (Exodus 30:26–​29; 24:9–​10, 1; 25:22; 30:26)

Congregavit David (2 Samuel 6:1–​2, 17–​18, 1 Chronicles 16: 4, 34)

Abraham’s near-​sacrifice of Isaac

Aedificavit Abraham

Aedificavit Noe

Themes

Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum

Melchisedec rex

Aedificavit Noe

Ark of the covenant, offering

Building of tabernacle, sacrifice

Sacrifice, promised land, Abraham’s offering

Sacrifice, Noah’s ark, flood

Creation

Aedificavit Noe (Genesis 8:20–​21; 15–​16; 9:1–​3)

Silos 6 Formavit dominus

León 8

Formavit dominus

Toledo 35.4

Formavit dominus (Genesis 2:7, 8, 21)

Table 1.3 The Old Hispanic Quotidiano Sacrificia Biblical version

Vulgatea

Vetus Latina

?

Vetus Latina

mixed

Vulgate

mixed

Vetus Latina

Vulgate

Other assignments

Offering Deliverance from Babylonian captivity Deliverance from Midianites, sacrifice Sacrifice Sacrifice, deliverance from plague Liberation, deliverance

Vos qui transituri (Deuteronomy 27:4–​7)

Audi Israhel quia magna (Baruch 3:24–​25, 38; 4:21, 24; Tobit 13:11, 15, 19)

Locutus est dominus ad Gideon (Judges 6:16–​18)

Ingressus est sacerdos (text source unknown)

Aedificavit David altare (2 Samuel 24:25)

Ingressus est vir dei (2 Samuel 19: 37–​38)

Ingressus est vir dei [lacuna]

Keeping commandments

Si in preceptis (Leviticus 26:3–​4, 6, 11)

Building of tabernacle, priesthood of Aaron Building of tabernacle, priesthood of Aaron

[lacuna]

Elegit dominus virum unum (Exodus 31:2–​3; 24:4; 40:25; 25:9, 1–​2, 8, 7; 28:1–​3)

Tabernacle

Aaron making a sacrifice

Locutus est dominus ad Moysen . . . ecce (Exodus 31:1–​3; 35:30, 32; 28:1, 41; 29:44)

Altare aureum

Altare aureum Exodus 40:24–​25, 32)

Elevavit Aaron (Leviticus 8:27–​28; 9: 6-​8)

?c

Vulgate

Vulgate

Vetus Latina?

Vulgate

Vulgate

Vulgateb

Vulgate

Vetus Latina?

Vulgate

(continued )

Restoration of basilica (L8)

Sunday before Lent (L8, A 30) Let. apos. BM 45

Ordination of a bishop (L8)

Cyprian (BL 45) John the Apostle (L8, A 30, T7)

Offering, priesthood Bread from heaven

Elevavit sacerdos (2 Maccabees 1:26?)

Paratum panem (Wisdom 16:20)

b

a

No VL version of 2 Kings 6 was available for comparison, but the chant text follows the Vulgate closely. The respond is clearly taken from the Vulgate. The source of the verses is not clear. c For Ingressus est vir, Deprecatus, and Paratum, no VL exists as a basis for comparison.

Offering

Themes

Offerte sacerdotes (Baruch 1:10–​12; Daniel 3:34; Jeremiah 31:14)

Silos 6 Sacrifice, prayer for deliverance

León 8

Deprecatus (2 Kings 13 or Numbers 29:36; Isaiah 37:15–​17, 20)

Toledo 35.4

Table 1.3 Continued

?

?

Vetus Latina

?

Biblical version

De missa omnimoda (Silos 3 and 4)

Initio anni (T7, L8, A 30)

Other assignments

The Sacrificium offering of bread and wine (Melchisedec rex, Genesis 14) and Abraham’s near-​ sacrifice of Isaac (Aedificavit Abraham altare, Genesis 22). For the Melchisedek story, the Letter to the Hebrews draws on Psalm 109:4 (“you are a priest forever according to the order of Melchisedek”) and uses Melchisedek’s offering to explain Christ’s lack of Levitical descent: a sign that a more perfect priesthood would emerge, descended from Melchisedek (Hebrews 7). Abraham is a type of God the Father in the patristic tradition transmitted by Isidore, because he did not withhold his own son; Isaac was a type of Christ, who carried the wood for his sacrifice as Christ carried his own cross.32 The singing of these two stories within the offertory rite, then, anticipated the enactment of Christ’s sacrifice in the Eucharist that followed.

Coherence and Diversity in the Sacrificia Many of the sacrificia share thematic threads, structural characteristics, and verbal formulas that unify them as a repertory, particularly in the first sections. Nearly half of the sacrificia (52/​109), for example, begin with an Old Testament sacrifice. The subsequent sections are sometimes closely connected to the sacrificial narrative of the first section, recounting the events that led up to the sacrifice. In other cases, the chant continues with material relevant to the liturgical day or season. As a whole, the texts were crafted in accordance with the repetendum form of the genre, similar to the Franco-​Roman responsory or offertory with verses.33 The repetendum heard after each subsequent section often reinforces the sacrificial theme, refocusing listeners’ attention on the liturgical action. Aedificavit Abraham, for example, begins with Abraham’s offering of a ram instead of Isaac. The subsequent sections present a fuller version of the story, recounting the events leading up to the offering. The musical form underlines the crux of the story: the closing words of the first section, “and lifting his eyes he saw behind his back a ram; taking it, he offered as burnt offering instead of his son,” were heard three times: first as the conclusion of Abraham’s offering, then after God’s command to sacrifice Isaac, and then as the culmination of the whole story.34 Further cohesion of the repertory was created through the reworking of scripture to conform to the customs and sacrificial theme of the genre. The liturgists modeled newer chant texts on existing ones, modifying scripture accordingly. Table 1.4 shows the openings of five sacrificium texts and their 32. Isidore of Seville, Mysticorum expositiones XVIII. PL 83, col. 249. 33. Maloy, Inside the Offertory: Aspects of Chronology and Transmission (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 54–​55. 34. In some cases, the repetenda contain changes to the original text to make its meaning coherent in the light of the preceding text. In Sanctificavit, for example, “fecit sacrificium” in the first section becomes “tunc Moyses fecit sacrificium” in the two repetenda.

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Et dimisit Moyses iuvenes ex filiis Israhel, et adtulerunt holocaustomata, et immolaverunt hostias salutare domino vitulos Et accipiens ea de manibus eorum, et offerens ea super altarem holocaustomatum odorem suavitatis in conspectu domini

Sanctificavit Moyses altare domino offerens super illud holocausta Et inferens victimas fecit sacrificium matutinum in odorem suavitatis domino deo in conspectu filiorum israhel alleluia

Deprecatus est autem Ioachaz faciem Domini et audivit eum Dominus vidit enim angustiam Israhel qua adtriverat eos rex Syriae et dedit Dominus Israheli salvatorem et liberatus est de manu Syriae habitaveruntque filii Israhel in tabernaculis suis sicut heri et nudius tertius

Elevavit Aaron munera coram domino deo super altare holocausti Et suscepit dominus de manibus eius sacrificium in odorem suavitatis alleluia alleluia

4. 4 Kings (= 2 Kings) 5. Elevavit 13:4–​5 (Vulgate)c Aaron

Tradens simul omnia Aaron et filiis ejus. Qui postquam levaverunt ea coram Domino, Rursum suscepta de manibus eorum, adolevit super altare holocausti, eo quod consecrationis esset oblatio, in odorem suavitatis, sacrificii Domini

6. Leviticus 8:27–​28 (Vulgate)d

Aedificavit Noe altare domino et sumpsit ex omni ex pecude mundo et ex omne ave munda et obtulit hositas ad altare et immolavit et cremavit et odoratus ex dominus odorem suavitatis alleluia

7. Aedificavit Noe

Aedificavit autem Noe altare Domino et tollens de cunctis pecoribus et volucribus mundis obtulit holocausta super altare odoratusque est Dominus odorem suavitatis

8. Genesis 8:20–​21e

Sollemnem habeatis istum diem festum domino et offeretis septem diebus fructum olocausti in odorem suavitatis domino alleluia alleluia.

9. Sollemnem habeatis

b

a

These texts are taken from the versions closest to the chant text. Accessed on Vetus Latina Database: The Bible Versions of the Latin Fathers (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002). Ulysse Robert, ed. Heptateuchi partis posterioris versio Latina antiquissima e codice Lugdunensi (Lyon: Librarie de A. Rey, 1900). Accessed in Vetus Latina Database. c Francis Aidan Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra: iuxta latinam vulgatam versionem, vol. 6 (Rome: Libreria Editrice Vaticanam 1987), 148. d Gasquet, ed. Biblia sacra, vol. 2, 372. e Gasquet, ed. Biblia sacra, vol. 1, 171. f Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 3, 239.

Deprecatus est populus faciem dei ex exaudivit illum dominus et dedit eis salutem et immolavit sacerdos holocaustum matutinum in odorem suavitatis, alleluia

2. Exodus 24:5 (Codex 3. Deprecatus est Ottoboni)a 29:24 (Codex Lugdunensis “Lyon Heptateuch”)b

1.Sanctificavit

Table 1.4  Opening Sections of Five Sacrificia

Mense autem primo quartadecima die mensis phase Domini erit offeretisque incensum holocaustum Domino vitulos de armento duos arietem unum agnos anniculos inmaculatos septem

10. Numbers 28:16, 19f

The Sacrificium biblical sources. Each closes with a reference to sweet odor of sacrifice, an image that appears frequently throughout the Pentateuch, but not in the primary scriptural sources for Deprecatus est (cols. 3–​4) or Sollemnem habeatis (cols. 9–​10). These or similar words occur in the opening sections of six additional sacrificia, pointing to a customary way of making texts.35 Further modifications to the biblical source are evident in the sacrificial theme. In typical fashion, the creator of Sanctificavit Moyses (cols. 1–​2) has substituted the animal sacrifices of the original text, no longer relevant for Christian practice, with another verbal formula, “sacrificium holocaustum matutinum in odorem suavitatem.” Two of the other chants in Table 1.4, Deprecatus est (cols. 3–​4) and Elevavit Aaron (cols. 5–​6), close with a very similar passage, neither of which is in its biblical source. Deprecatus est, in fact, invokes a sacrifice that does not occur in the source text from 2 Kings (= 4 Kings in the Vulgate) at all. Deprecatus est illustrates another common type of modification often found in the sacrificia. The subject of the original text, Jehoahaz, lacks a widely known typological meaning in patristic exegesis, and in the chant, his prayer to the Lord becomes that of the “populus.” Though these reworkings of scripture, each biblical source is made to conform not only to generic norms, but to its liturgical use. In this way, the typological meaning of the Old Testament was enacted and made present. The sacrificia shown in Table 1.4 have other parallels in vocabulary and in structure that are typical of the repertory. Sanctificavit Moyses, Elevavit Aaron, and Aedificavit Noe, for example, begin with a preparatory act for the sacrifice and with a word order (verb, subject, object) that is found in many other sacrificia. While this order reflects the wording of the biblical source in three of the chants, Elevavit Aaron departs in meaning from the biblical wording, an adaptation to the norms of the genre.36 The words “in conspectu domini/​dei,” at the end of Sanctificavit, are another verbal formula often found at the end of the first section in the sacrificia.37 These verbal formulas further indicate traditional customs for creating the texts.

35. In Stans sacerdos (section III) and Paratum panem, the words are not in the biblical source, whereas Alleluia oblati iusti has them in the biblical source. See also In pascha domini (“odorem suavissimum”), Elegit dominus (“incensum aromatum”), and Sicut cedrus. 36. In the biblical text, the sons of Aaron lift the gifts: Aaron et filiis eius qui postquam levaverunt ea coram Domino (Lev. 8:27–​28). 37. For example, Isti sunt dies quos, Aspexi, Stans (in section III), Offerte domino holocausta, Aedificavit Salomon (in section II), Oravi deum (in section II).

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40 Songs of Sacrifice

Chronological Questions Despite their shared traits, the sacrificia were not the product of a single impulse. Although the indirect evidence reviewed in the Introduction suggests that the core of the Old Hispanic repertory was created in the sixth and seventh centuries, later additions are probable. A few chants in L8, for example, can be identified as later accruals to its repertory. Locutus est dominus discipulis suis for St. James was added in the eleventh century to one of the manuscript’s introductory folios, probably in conjunction with the adoption of July 25 (rather than December 30) as his feast day.38 Exaudiat deus, for votive masses, and Dominus Ihesus Christus in qua nocte, an additional sacrificium for Holy Thursday, are marginal additions to L8, possibly added by a single scribe. These indicate expansions to an existing repertory in the late tenth or eleventh century. Probable additions to a core repertory are also found in later manuscripts, such as Requiem nobis dabit, for the Mass of the Dead, in S3. A further witness to the diversity of the repertory’s origins lies in the variety of the biblical textual traditions on which the chants are based.They derive both from the Vulgate and from earlier translations from the Greek Old Testament, collectively known as the Vetus Latina (hereafter VL). In contrast to the Vulgate, the term VL does not refer to a single text; rather, it is an all-​encompassing designation for the many translations from Greek to Latin that were in use throughout the West, from early Christian times to the high Middle Ages. No VL text survives in complete form, and many are witnessed only in patristic citations, liturgical texts, or biblical fragments.39 In Tables  1.1–​1.3 the source 38. As argued in Thomas Deswarte, “St. James in Galicia (c. 500–​1300):  Rivalries in Heaven and Earth,” in Culture and Society of Medieval Galicia:  A Cultural Crossroads at the Edge of Europe, ed. James d’Emilio (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 477–​511; at 484–​85. As Elsa De Luca shows in forthcoming work, the notation in this chant was probably added by one of the primary correcting scribes of L8. The added chants in the opening folios are discussed as a group in Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, “Notated Chant in the Opening Folios of the León Antiphoner,” in Les folios introductifs de l’Antiphonaire de León, ed. Thomas Deswarte, forthcoming. The absence of a July 25 feast for James in L8 and celebration of Cucuphas on this day has been cited to support the influential argument that the model for L8 originated in southern Iberia. Justo Pérez de Urbel, “El Antifonario de León: El escritor y la época,” Archivios Leoneses 8 (1954): 115–​44; and Pérez de Urbel, “El Antifonario de León y su modelo de Beja.” Deswarte, however, argues persuasively for resistance to the Galician cult of James in the kingdoms of León and Castile, which would explain its apparently minimal influence on a tenth-​century manuscript from León. 39. My analysis of sacrificium texts employs two VL resources, both produced at the Vetus Latina Institute in Beuron: the critical edition of the VL, currently in progress (Sabatier and Fischer, eds., Vetus Latina); and the Vetus Latina Database, a collection of texts for each biblical verse, made in preparation for the critical edition and drawn from citations, liturgical sources, and editions of particular Bibles. Because the editors of the critical edition have analyzed

The Sacrificium text for each sacrificium, when it can be determined, is indicated.40 Among the non-​psalmic sacrificia, the temporale and sanctorale have the greatest proportions of VL-​based sacrificia (19/​39 and 14/​31, respectively), whereas occasional and quotidiano sacrificia have smaller proportions (5/​14 and 6/​24, respectively). It is not possible to posit a strict chronology of chants on the basis of biblical versions, because the transition to the Vulgate occurred at different times in different places. The lesser proportion of VL-​based chants in the occasional and quotidiano groups, however, does correlate with their variance of repertory and assignments, with broad chronological implications of later compilation. The textual variety of the repertory, moreover, indicates that it was compiled in different times and places. * * * The adaptations of the Old Testament to Christian belief and practice suggest that the sacrificia were not mere demonstrations of the Visigothic elite’s erudition and singing skill. Rather, as I will argue, the transformations of scripture served as an exegetical lens through which clergy and laity were to be taught the Christian interpretation of the Old Testament. The role of the chant could also be pastoral, exhorting the congregation to fast or conveying the meaning of a particular festival. Through melody, the psalmists delivered these texts in ways designed to hold listeners’ attention at crucial moments, underlining central messages. The sacrificium—​not just its texts, but also its melodies—​was a tool of Christian education and formation in Visigothic Iberia. It is thus a perfect conduit for exploring the role of chant in the cultural program of the Iberian bishops.

the different texts and categorized them into different branches, the edition is a better tool for determining which VL tradition is the basis of a chant text. Although the Vetus Latina Database lacks this kind of analysis, it is useful in the absence of a critical edition for the biblical passages in question. 40. On the criteria for determining the textual basis, see pp. 72–74 in Chapter 3.

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2

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation

A

t the heart of this book are questions about what chant communicated to its listeners and how it did so. In the sacrificia, scripture is extensively reworked and transformed to convey specific interpretations of its biblical source texts. These modifications distinguish the genre from its Franco-​ Roman (“Gregorian”) counterpart, the offertory.1 Here and in Chapter  3, I argue that these characteristics of the Old Hispanic chant are best understood as a product of the Visigothic project of intellectual renewal and its distinctive culture of textual production. Although scholars have noted the overtly theological or exegetical quality of some Old Hispanic liturgical texts,2 these texts have played little role in historians’ assessments of this culture. I examine how the chant texts relate to the culture of learning practiced among the Visigothic church’s elites and to other texts they produced, with the goal of discerning what motivated their compilation and how they were meant to be understood. The formation of a Nicene Christian society that lay at the heart of the Visigothic cultural project began with the teaching of scripture and doctrine, a 1. The modification of scripture in the Franco-​Roman offertories is rarely, if ever, overtly exegetical. It more often serves simply to abbreviate the text and adapt it to a particular musical form. See Rebecca Maloy, Inside the Offertory: Aspects of Chronology and Transmission (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 49–​57. On this phenomenon in Franco-​Roman chant more broadly, see James McKinnon, The Advent Project:  The Later-​Seventh-​Century Creation of the Roman Mass Proper (Berkeley:  University of California Press, 2000), 13–​14; 103–​4; 237–​38; 215–​20; 366–​69. 2. Inter alia, Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “Literary Aspects of the Visigothic Liturgy,” in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. Edward James (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 61–​76; Gabriel Bayes Turull, Las oraciones de Antifonas y responsorios para el tiempo de traditione domini en el oficio Hispanico (Sant Cugat del Valles: Institut catholique de Paris, 1976); Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, “Biblical Commentary in the Old Hispanic Liturgy: A Passiontide Case Study,” Early Music 44 (2016): 383–​94; Emma Hornby, “Musical Values and Practice in Old Hispanic Chant,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 69 (2016): 595–​650. Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation pedagogy rooted in patristic learning. Isidore and other seventh-​century bishops distilled patristic teaching on moral living and biblical exegesis into shorter texts that were easily digested and memorized. The scriptural reworking in the sacrificia, I argue, serves a similar role. Guided by exegetical texts that circulated on the Iberian Peninsula, the compilers of the chant texts worked to tailor the reception of the Old Testament in a way that was mediated both through patristic exegesis and through contemporaneous anti-​ Jewish polemic. The teaching of correct belief and the exegesis of scripture was designed to prepare Christians to receive the grace of faith,3 helping to shape individual Christian selves and a Nicene society. In this chapter, I consider how patristic texts were ideally disseminated, read, and understood in Visigothic Iberia and the extent to which the bishops’ goals for Christian education and formation were put into practice.This broad picture serves as a prelude to the closer analysis of the chant texts presented in Chapter 3.

Reading Scripture in Visigothic Iberia The reworking of scripture in the Old Hispanic chant texts resonates with the late-​antique approaches to scripture that came to be incorporated into the pedagogical works of Isidore and subsequent generations of bishops. Although these writings reflect prescriptive ideals rather than social reality, Isidore’s model for Christian education can yield insight into the principles that guided the creation of the chant repertory, which was designed to work toward the same purposes. In Sententiae, his manual for Christian instruction, Isidore promotes a monastic approach to reading scripture, derived from Cassian, Benedict, and Gregory the Great.4 First and foremost, he stresses the reciprocal relationship between reading and prayer: “By prayers we are purified; by readings we are instructed.”5 Although it is good to have both together, prayer is more important. In prayer, “we speak to God” and in reading, “God speaks to us.”6 Isidore invokes meditatio, the memorization of scripture, as a way to preserve what one has learned: “What we do not know from meditation, we learn from reading. What we have learned, we conserve in meditation,” and, “reading needs the help of memory; if it is naturally slower, it can be made sharp through frequent

3. Carol Harrison, The Art of Listening in the Early Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013); Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997). 4. Inter alia, see the discussion of Sententiae in Duncan Robertson, Lectio Divina:  The Medieval Experience of Reading (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2011), 107–​11. On Sententiae as a pedagogical work, see note 30 below. 5. Isidore of Seville, Sententiae, III.8.1, ed. Pierre Cazier. CCSL 111, 228. 6. Isidore of Seville, Sententiae, III.8.2, CCSL 111, 229.

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44 Songs of Sacrifice meditation and brought together by regular reading.”7 Finally, the ultimate purpose of reading and doctrine is not to acquire knowledge, but to put that knowledge into practice. Isidore’s Synonyma provides a particularly vivid illustration of scripture that has been memorized, digested, and internalized.8 Cast as a dialogue between the soul and reason, Book 1 is a lament of the penitent soul, overcome by contrition and seeking redemption. Reason persuades him to abandon his sinful ways in the hope of God’s mercy.This widely transmitted work, deeply influenced by Gregory’s Moralia in Iob, became best known in the Middle Ages as an example of “Isidorian style,” marked by varied repetition, parallelism, short clauses, and assonance.9 What concerns us here, however, is Isidore’s process of excerpting passages of scripture and transforming them into a new text, fused with his own biblically inspired language. Passages of Job, Jeremiah, and Lamentations are reworded, reframed, and seamlessly woven into a personal lament. As an example, consider “Iratus est enim super me nimis, conplevit me furorem suam in me, effundit iram indignationis suae super me proper multitudinem iniquitatis meam.”10 (For he is exceedingly angry with me, he has fulfilled his rage against me, he has poured out the anger of his indignation over me because of the multitude of my sins.) Beginning with “complevit,” Isidore’s text resembles two biblical passages: Ezekiel 7:8 (“effundam iram meam super te, et complebo furorem meum in te”), and Lamentations 4:11 (“complevit Dominus furorem suum, effudit iram indignationis suae”).Yet it is not identical to either. Rather, a combined version of the two passages, perhaps recalled from memory, is reworked so that God’s rebuke to the sinner (“super te,” “in te”) becomes the soul’s own lament (“in me,” “super me”). The opening clause, “iratus est enim super me nimis,” moreover, is not a quotation of scripture; rather, it states the essence of the two passages in Isidore’s own biblically inspired words. In its rewordings and paraphrases of scripture, this passage of Synonyma shows a striking parallel to the ways that scripture is reworked in the chant texts, as I will show in Chapter 3. The creators of the chant changed the literal meaning of the Old Testament source to reflect its liturgical use or its role in the Christian salvation narrative. These transformations are often inspired by other 7. Isidore of Seville, Sententiae, III. 8.6, CCSL 111, 229–​30. On meditatio, see, inter alia, Douglas Burton-​Christie, The Word in the Desert: Scripture and the Quest for Holiness in Early Christian Monasticism (New York: Oxford University Press, 1993), 122–​29; Columba Stewart, Cassian the Monk (New York: Oxford University Press, 1998); Robertson, Lectio Divina, 72–​103. 8. Isidore of Seville, Synonyma, ed. Jacques Elfassi, CCSL 111b. 9. Claudia Di Sciacca, Finding the Right Words: Isidore’s Synonyma in Anglo-​Saxon England (Toronto:  University of Toronto Press, 2008); Jacques Fontaine, “Isidore de Séville auteur ‘ascétique’: Les enigmas de Synonyma,” Studi Medievali 6 (1965): 163–​95; Jacques Elfassi, “La langue des Synonyma d’Isidore de Séville,” Bulletin du Cange 62 (2004): 59–​100. 10. Isidore, Synonyma, I.lxvii CCSL 111, 53–​54.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation passages of scripture, probably cited from memory, but with the addition of non-​biblical paraphrases and summaries.11 Synonyma, in fact, provided a direct model for one genre of Old Hispanic chant, the threnos,12 and it influenced the creation of other liturgical texts.13 Although this way of working with scripture has many patristic precedents, Synonyma exemplifies a direct continuity between Isidore’s pedagogical ideals and the Old Hispanic chant. While Isidore stated only that Synonyma was composed for “mihi vel miseris,” Fontaine has argued that it was addressed to students, both as a moral handbook and as a model of rhetorical technique.14 The ultimate purpose of this kind of writing was Christian education and formation. Readers were meant to see themselves in the book’s first-​person voice, shaping for themselves a penitential persona that was called to redemption. Formed with the same pedagogical and pastoral goals, the Old Hispanic liturgy has a similar approach to reworking scripture.

The Transmission of Patristic Texts in Visigothic Iberia At the roots of the liturgy and the Visigothic intellectual renewal was a culture of patristic learning. The Old Hispanic repertory was deeply influenced by patristic interpretations of scripture, in ways that range from the choice of a biblical passage for a particular festival to the reshaping of that source. Many clergy and monks in seventh-​century Iberia would probably have encountered the patristic tradition primarily through the kinds of works produced by Isidore, which compressed patristic teaching into shorter, explicitly pedagogical texts. To assess the types of knowledge likely to have influenced the production of chant, this section surveys the culture of patristic learning and textual production among intellectual elites in seventh-​century Iberia. Isidore’s biblical exegesis is rarely original. Rather, its models are patristic, attesting to the availability of great numbers of such texts.15 The culture of 11. See, in particular, the discussion of Ecce ostendit in Chapter 3, pp. 74–82. 12. Hornby and Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants,  83–​92. 13. Jacques Elfassi, “Trois aspects inattendus de la postérité des Synonyma d’Isidore de Séville: les prières, les textes hagiographiques, et les collections canoniques,” Revue d’histoire des textes, n.s. 1 (2006): 109–​52. On the synonymic style of the Old Hispanic Mary office, see Kati Ihnat and Rebecca Maloy, “Text, Exegesis, and Melody in the Mary Office,” forthcoming in An Introduction to the Old Hispanic Office: Liturgy, Melody,Theology. Liturgical and Musical Culture in Early Medieval Iberia: Decoding a Lost Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming). 14. Fontaine, “Isidore de Séville Auteur ‘Ascétique’: Les énigmas de Synonyma,” 186–​89. 15. A list of patristic works cited in the corpus of Iberian Visigothic literature has recently been compiled by José Carlos Martín Iglesias, “La Biblioteca Cristiana de Los Padres Hispanovisigodos (siglos VI–​VII),” Veleia: Revista de Prehistoria, Historia Antiqua, Arquelogía, y Filología Clásicas 30 (2013): 259–​88. See also Jacques Fontaine, Isidore de Séville: genèse et originalité de la culture hispanique au temps des wisigoths (Turnhout: Brepols, 2000), 183–​98. Earlier

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46 Songs of Sacrifice patristic learning he promoted had its roots in the sixth century.16 The Explanatio in Cantica Canticorum of Justus of Urgell (d. 527), for example, cites authors who came to be influential for Isidore and others in the seventh century, including Origen, Augustine, Jerome, and Ambrose.17 Apringius of Beja’s sixth-​century commentary on the Apocalypse, intended as a response to the Priscillian heresy, is based in part on Jerome’s works.18 The Arian bishops also possessed books, with enough education to engage in theological disputation.19 Leander’s sermon to the Third Council of Toledo in 589 cites Tertullian, Jerome, Augustine, Arnobius, Ambrose, and Gregory the Great, among others, seamlessly working them into a new narrative.20 Leander probably used these same works in his supervision of Isidore’s education. Thus, a foundation for the seventh-​century patristic culture was in place by the end of the sixth century. Among the most influential authors for Isidore were Augustine, Gregory the Great, and Cyprian. In the preface to his Mysticorum expositiones sacramentorum seu quaestiones in vetus testamentum, probably a later work, Isidore cites Origen, Ambrose, Jerome, and Cassian as sources.21

general studies focusing on Isidore’s use of patristic texts include Ursicino Dominquez del Val, “La utilización de los padres por San Isidoro,” in Isidoriana:  Colección de estudios sobre Isidoro de Sevilla, ed. Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz (León: Centro de Estudios “San Isidro,” 1961), 211–​22; Ursicino Dominquez del Val, “Características de la patrística hispana en el siglo VII,” in Patrología Toledano-​Visigoda. XXVII Semana Española de Teología (Toledo, 25–​29 Sept. 1967)  (Madrid:  Semana Española de Teología, 1970). 5–​36; Florentino Ogara, “Tipología bíblica, según S. Isidoro,” in Miscellánea Isidoriana: homenaje a s. Isidoro de Sevilla en el XIII centenario de su muerte, 636–​4 de abril–​1936 (Rome:  Typis Pontificiae universitatis gregorianae, 1936), 134–​50; and José Madoz, “El florilegio patrístico del II concilio de Sevilla,” in Miscellánea Isidoriana (León: Centro de Estudios “San Isidoro,” 1961), 177–​220. 16. A  handful of exegetical texts were produced in fourth-​century Iberia. For a thorough study of Iberian exegetical works for the entire period, see Francisco Javier Tovar Paz, Tractatus, sermones atque homiliae: el cultivo del género literario del discurso homilético en la Hispania tardoantigua y visigoda (Cáceres: Universidad de Extremadura, Servicio de Extremadura, 1994). 17. Rossana E. Guglielmetti and Luigi Giovanni Giuseppe Ricci, eds., Explanatio in Cantica canticorum: un vescovo esegeta nel regno visigoto (Firenze: Edizioni del Galluzzo per la Fondazione Ezio Franceschini, 2011). 18. Roger Gryson, ed., Variorum auctorum Commentaria minora in Apocalypsin Johannis, CCSL 107 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003). On this text, see, inter alia, Ana María Jorge, “Church and Culture in Lusitania in the V–​VII Centuries: A Late Roman Province at the Crossroads,” in The Visigoths: Cultural and Society, ed. Alberto Ferreiro (Leiden: Brill, 1999), 114–​16. 19. Markus Mülke, “‘Isidorische Renaissance’ oder:  Über die Anbahnung einer Widergeburt,” Antiquité Tardive 23 (2015): 95–​108. 20. The sermon is edited in Antonio Gómez Cobo, La homelia in laude ecclesiae de Leandro de Sevilla: estudio y valoración (Murcia: Editorial Espigas, 1999). 21. PL 83, col. 209. On the chronology of Isidore’s works, José A. de Aldama, “Indicationes sobre la cronología de las obras de S. Isidoro,” in Miscellanea Isidoriana,  57–​92.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation Communication among elites in the seventh century suggests that these texts were not widely available at all times; instead, copies were circulated among bishops and clergy. A concern for the provision of books emerges repeatedly in the correspondence of Isidore’s friend Braulio (ca. 590–​651), bishop of Saragossa, in his letters to clergy, monks, and laity. Isidore, for example, asks Braulio for a section of Augustine’s Enarrationes in psalmos, and Braulio asks Emilian, a priest and abbot, for a copy of Apringius’s commentary of the Apocalypse.22 Taio of Saragossa later traveled to Rome to procure the parts of Gregory’s Moralia that were unavailable in Iberia.23 Isidore and other bishops used these texts to create florilegia that presented their central ideas in digest form, producing a new kind of exegetical manual.24 Indeed, the seventh century has been characterized as a period in which the composition of original commentaries on scripture gave way to writings based on patristic sources, often quoted and assembled with a great deal of freedom. Florilegia could be compiled in various ways. In longer exegetical works such as Mysticorum expositiones, which proceeds through the Old Testament book by book, Isidore assembles longer citations verbatim. In a passage I will examine more closely in Chapter  3, for example, he creates a new commentary on Exodus 33 and 34 from works by Origen, Augustine, and Gregory the Great.25 In these longer citations, we rarely encounter modifications of the source text that would yield insight into Isidore’s own thinking.26 Other works by Isidore employ very concise modes of discourse that were explicitly pedagogical, condensing patristic teaching into simple sentences that lent themselves to memorization. Allegoriae, for example, consists of a list of Old Testament names followed by a brief explanation of their typological meanings. For example, “Abraham bears the type of God the Father, who gave over his beloved son to be offered for the salvation of the world.”27 These short formulations were most likely intended as an “aide-​memoire of spiritual exegesis,” for

22. Letter 1 and Letter 25. José Madoz, Epistolario de San Braulio de Zaragoza. Edición crítica según el códice 22 del archivo capitular de León, con una introducción histórica y comentario (Madrid: Madrid Aldecoa, 1941), 71–​72; 145–​46. 23. Most recently, Jamie Wood, “A Family Affair,” in Isidore of Seville and His Reception in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2016), 31–​56. 24. Jacques Fontaine, “Isidore de Seville pédagogue et théoricien de l’exégèse,” in Stimuli: Exegese und ihre Hermeneutik in Antike und Christentum. Festschrift für Ernst Dassmann, ed. Georg Schölligen and Clemens Scholten, Jahrbuch für Antike und Christentum suppl. 23 (Münster: Aschendorff, 1996), 423–​34; at 423. 25. See Chapter 3, Table 3.5, pp. 85–86. 26. Donald Jacob Uitvlugt, “The Sources of Isidore’s Commentaries on the Pentateuch,” Revue Bénédictine 112 (2002): 72–​100. 27. Isidore, Allegoriae 20, PL 83, column 104.

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48 Songs of Sacrifice clergy who would preach.28 De fide catholica, framed as a tract against Judaism, is a compilation of Old Testament passages cited in the service of Christian doctrine, based in part on patristic anti-​Jewish and anti-​heretical traditions.29 In Sententiae, basic instructions in doctrine and moral living are taken from the patristic tradition, but often presented in Isidore’s own words.30 In different ways, these three works adopt the principle of brevitas, exemplifying basic principles of interpretation in a concise way that could be easily remembered.31 Although clerical education was a primary goal of these works, their intended audience was not limited to clergy. De fide catholica, for example, is dedicated to Isidore’s sister Florentina, a nun, pointing to a broader educational purpose.32 The production of such works in the earlier seventh century was not confined to Isidore. Braulio’s correspondence hints that other bishops were engaged in similar activities, though few of their efforts survive. Braulio instructs the priest and abbot Fronimian, for example, to prepare a compilation of biblical commentaries “on the Apostle” by testing the opinions of various authors for agreement with the Catholic faith, then carefully copying them to follow through each chapter of the biblical text.33 Taio’s Sententiae, in large part a topical arrangement of excerpts from Gregory’s Moralia, is one extant example.34 The implication is that bishops bore the responsibility of making or procuring such texts, at least in the larger sees, for the education of their clergy. These kinds of texts were intended to provide an entry point into patristic exegesis for clerics and monastics, giving them a foundation for understanding the Old Testament narratives in the liturgy as types that pertained to aspects of Christian life, ritual, and salvation. 28. Dominique Poirel, “Un manuel d’exégèse allégorique ou service des prédicateurs: Les Allegoriae d’Isidore de Séville,” Recherches Augustiniennes 32 (2003): 95–​107. See also Sergio Feldman, “Exegese e alegoria: A concepção de mundo isidoriana através do texto bíblico,” Dimensões: Revista de História da Ufes 17 (2005): 133–​49. On sacerdotal preaching in Visigothic Iberia see below, p. 56. 29. PL 83, cols. 449–​558. For further discussion of this work, see pp. 48, 49, 57, 79, and 97 in Chapter 3. 30. On this work, see Pierre Cazier, Isidore de Séville et la naissance de l’Espagne catholique (Paris: Beauchesne, 1994), 70–​78; and Pierre Cazier, “Théorie et pédagogie de la religion populaire dans l’antiquité tardive:  Augustin, Grégoire le Grand, Isidore de Séville,” in La Religion populaire. Aspects du Christianisme populaire à travers l’histoire, ed. Yves-​Marie Hiliare (Lille: Centre interdisciplinaire d’études des religions de l’Université de Lille III, 1981), 11–​27. 31. On brevitas in Isidore’s historical writing, see Jamie Wood, “Brevitas in the Writings of Isidore of Seville,” in Early Medieval Spain: A Symposium, ed. Alan Deyermond and Martin J. Ryan (London: Department of Hispanic Studies, Queen Mary University, 2010), 37–​54. 32. See the discussion in Wolfram Drews, The Unknown Neighbour: The Jew in the Thought of Isidore of Seville (Leiden; Boston: Brill, 2006), 114–​16. 33. Letter 14, in Madoz, ed., Epistolario de San Braulio de Zaragoza,  105–​8. 34. PL 80, cols. 727–​990.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation

Typological Exegesis in Visigothic Iberia The principles of scriptural interpretation, including the typological sense that underlies the sacrificia, were a fundamental part of Isidore’s educational agenda. In the elementary instruction provided in Sententiae, Isidore concisely defines the three senses of scripture, paraphrasing Gregory: “Divine law is to be discerned in a threefold way: it is to be understood first historically, second, tropologically, and third spiritually. For historically is according to the letter; tropologically according to moral knowledge, and mystically according to spiritual understanding.”35 Scriptural understanding, however, varies for each reader. To those at the beginning of their study, scripture reveals only its literal sense, whereas the allegorical and moral senses reflect a higher level of understanding.36 The prefigurative role of the Old Testament is certainly a part of these teachings: future events, such as Christ’s drinking of vinegar at the Passion, are written about in scripture as if they had already happened, because they have been done in divine predestination.37 In Sententiae and elsewhere, Isidore contrasts the law and the gospel with a common trope: the law is a shadow of the truth that is fulfilled in Christ.38 The sacrificial typology that underlies the Old Hispanic sacrificia is prevalent both in patristic commentaries and throughout Isidore’s exegetical corpus.39 In his earliest work, the Liber differentiarum, Isidore uses sacrifice as an example of the contrast between the law and the gospel: in the law, the flesh and blood of cattle are offered in sacrifice; in the gospel, the body and blood of Christ is offered, which was prefigured in these animals.40 In De fide catholica, Isidore cites passages from the prophets that condemn animal sacrifices made in sin, as evidence that only the offerings of gentiles are acceptable to God.41 In a more extensive way, Mysticorum expositiones develops allegorical readings of many Old Testament sacrifice narratives, associating each offering with a counterpart in 35. Lex divina triplici sentienda est modo. Primo, ut historice: secundo ut tropologice, tertio ut mystice intelligatur. Historice namque juxta litteram, tropologice juxta moralem scientiam, mystice juxta spiritalem intelligentiam. Ergo sic historice oportet fidem tenere, ut eam et moraliter debeamus interpretari et spiritaliter intelligere, Sententiae I.xviii.11. CCSL 111, 64. Isidore’s source for this passage, also cited in Etymologiae, 6.1.11, is Gregory’s Moralia. 36. Sententiae, I.xviii.5, CCSL 111, 62–​63. 37. Sententiae I.xviii, CCSL 111, 63. 38. Sententiae I.xx.1–​2, CCSL 111, 71–​72. See also De fide catholica XXVIII, PL 83, col. 537. 39. Some of this introductory material also appears in Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and the Early History,” 25 and 57. 40. “Illic, pecoribus immolatis, carnis et sanguinis hostiae offerebantur, hic sacrificium carnis et sanguinis Christi offertur, quod per illa animalia figurabatur.” Liber Differentiarum [II] xxxi, ed. María Adelaida Andrés Sanz, CCSL 111A, 80. 41. “Quo testimonio patet sacrificia Judaeorum immunda esse, et reprobata, et solam oblationem gentium Domino esse acceptam.” De fide, II. Xviii; PL 83, cols. 527–​28.

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50 Songs of Sacrifice Christian practice. In passages derived mainly from Augustine’s Contra Faustum, Isidore considers each animal offered and each ritual in Leviticus as a type for a different aspect of Christ’s Passion: Christ was offered in the Levitical calf for the virtue of the cross, in the lamb for innocence, in the ram for his dominion. In the joining of the turtledove and pigeon, Isidore sees Christ as the mediator between God and man.42 Most of these offering types are cited in the sacrificia, possibly suggesting a direct point of contact with Isidore’s work. In addition to the sacrifice theme, many other threads connect the sacrificia to the biblical typologies that pervade Isidore’s writings. In De ecclesiasticis officiis, Old Testament typologies are central to Isidore’s very conception of the church, as the foundation of church buildings, choirs, the liturgical year, and the clerical orders. Beyond making the usual association between Easter and Passover,43 Isidore finds the origins of Lent in Moses’s forty days of fasting in the desert, thought to prefigure Jesus’ forty days of temptation,44 and Pentecost in the biblical Pentecost or Festival of Weeks, the celebration of the giving of the law to Moses fifty days after Passover.45 These biblical passages are the basis for the sacrificia on each of these occasions. The sacrificia thus articulate the patristic vision, developed extensively by Isidore, of a church that fulfills Old Testament types. This idea also found expression in the councils over which Isidore presided. For example, when Canon VII of Seville II (619) specifies that only bishops can consecrate altars, it invokes Moses’ role as “princeps sacerdotum” in the building of altars, implying that he is a type for the episcopacy; Aaron and his sons, who do not build altars, are types for the priesthood.46 This

42. “Ipse enim in vitulo propter virtutem crucis offerebatur; ipse in agno propter innocentiam, in ariete propter principatum, in hirco propter similitudinem carnis peccati, ut de peccato damnaret peccatum; idem in turture et columba propter Deum et hominem, quia mediator Dei et hominum in duarum substantiarum conjunctione ostendebatur.” Mysticorum expositiones, In Leviticum I, PL 83, col. 321. Augustine’s Contra Faustum seems to be the most influential precedent for Isidore’s exegesis on sacrifice and Jewish festivals. The work is addressed to Manicheans, who held that the Old Testament was irrelevant for Christians. Joephus Zycha, ed., De utilitate credenda, De duabus animabus, Contra fortunatum, Contra adimantum, Contra epistulam fundamenti, Contra Faustum, CSEL 25.These interpretations of sacrifice have their ultimate origin in the New Testament, particularly Hebrews 10. 43. 1 Corinthians 5:7. Isidore’s commentaries on Passover are representative of the broader patristic tradition. He links the Passover lamb to the Eucharistic sacrament in several works (Liber Differentiarum [II] xxx; CCSL 111A, 80; Mysticorum expositiones, In Exodum XV. PL 83 cols. 294–​95, De ecclesiasticis officiis I, XXVIIII, CCSL, 113, 32). Invoking a traditional interpretation of the unleavened bread, he also admonishes readers to avoid the “leaven of malice and wickedness” (Mysticorum expositiones, column 295). 44. De ecclesiasticis officiis I.xxxvii, CCSL 113, 43. 45. De ecclesiasticis officiis I.xxxiv, CCSL 113, 39. 46. Seville II, canon VII.Vives, ed., Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos, 167–​68.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation typological conception of the church broadly mirrors Isidore’s tendency to seek meaning in origin.47

Clerical and Monastic Education Isidore’s educational works indicate that he wished to provide clergy and educated laity with the tools to understand the Old Testament in the allegorical or typological sense, including the specific passages that are cited in the sacrificia. As I will argue in Chapter 3, the reworking of biblical sources in the sacrificia often serves these didactic goals. The compilers of the chant used the Old Testament as a basis for creating new texts that stressed the typological Christian meaning. The creators of the existing melodies also appear to have understood the texts in many of their intended meanings. As argued in Chapters 4 and 5, the cantors used melody not only to convey the syntax and enhance the rhetoric of the texts, but also to underline images of particular importance to the allegorical meaning. It would be tempting to posit that the foundation of this understanding was a seventh-​century educational program that centered on the reading of works by Isidore and others. Isidore’s writings were influential throughout the Middle Ages, far beyond the Iberian Peninsula.48 Yet the paucity of extant seventh-​ century Iberian manuscripts precludes knowing how widely they circulated in his own time and in the following decades, or the extent to which the normative ideals for Christian education they represent were put into practice. Indeed, contemporaneous testimonies to clerical and monastic education present a considerably less erudite picture of learning, reinforcing the impression that his educational program represented an ideal rather than a social reality. Although the texts produced in Visigothic Iberia can tell us how scripture was ideally read and understood among the clerical elites who produced the chant, moreover, they tell us far less about how the liturgical texts would have been understood by those outside these elite circles, or about the wider devotional culture in which the liturgy was practiced. In pondering this question, it will be fruitful to explore the contexts of clerical and monastic education and how lay and clerical understanding was shaped through preaching and the liturgy. This understanding positions us to assess the roles of liturgy in the bishops’ educational endeavors and the knowledge that clergy and laity are likely to have brought to the understanding of chant. 47. Though Etymologiae is the best-​known example, this tendency extends across Isidore’s theological and historical corpus. See Wood, Politics of Identity, 106. 48. Most recently, Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood, eds., Isidore of Seville and His Reception in the Early Middle Ages:  Transmitting and Transforming Knowledge (Amsterdam:  Amsterdam University Press, 2016).

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52 Songs of Sacrifice While monasteries were undoubtedly an important locus of patristic learning, the evidence points to a very wide spectrum of literacy and education among monks. Monastic culture in Iberia was diverse, ranging from influential houses like Dumio, near Braga, and Agali, the training ground for bishops near Toledo, to the kinds of ad hoc house monasteries that are disparaged in the Regula communis.49 The latter text, redacted in Gallaecia around 660 and traditionally associated with Fructuosus of Braga, refers to members of a household (“wives, children, servants, and neighbors”) consecrating domestic churches and calling themselves monasteries.50 Even traditional monasteries had recruits from all social classes. They were situated both close to cities and in rural areas, and followed a wide variety of rules.51 The standards of conduct and worship promoted in these rules, moreover, should be also considered as an ideal rather than reality.52 In the sixth century, monastic settlement facilitated patristic learning. In the aftermath of Berber raids and doctrinal controversy, north African monks migrated to Iberia and brought libraries with them, possibly marking the first introduction of monastic rules into central and southern Iberia.53 The influence of Gallican monasticism had already been felt in the northeast, and that of Irish monasticism in the west. In the seventh century, the better-​endowed monasteries produced many of the bishops tasked with the education of clergy and credited with liturgical composition. Their training provided them with a superb secular and patristic education. While it is doubtful that Isidore himself was a monk, he was educated under the supervision of Leander, who was.54 49. Julio Campos Ruiz, ed., Reglas monásticas de la España visigoda:  Los tres libros de las “Sentencias” (Madrid:  Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1971), 172–​ 73; Justo Fernández Alonso, La cura pastoral en la España romanovisigoda (Roma: Iglesia Nacional Española, 1955), 471–​507; Neil Allies, “The Monastic Rules of Visigothic Iberia: A Study of Their Text and Language” (University of Birmingham, 2009). 50. Pablo C. Díaz, “Regula communis: Monastic Space and Social Context,” in Western Monasticism ante litteram:  The Spaces of Monastic Observance in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. Henrick W. Dey and Elizabeth W.  B. Fentress (Turnhout:  Brepols, 2011), 117–​35. 51. Pablo de la Cruz Díaz Martínez, Formas económicas y sociales en el monacato visigodo (Salamanca: Universidad de Salamanca, 1987), 130–​48. On urban monasteries, Luis A García Moreno,“Los monjes y monasterios en las cividades de las españas tardorromanas y visigodas,” Habis 24 (1993): 179–​92. See also Allies, “The Monastic Rules of V   isigothic Iberia,” 31–​33. 52. Valerius of Bierzo, for example, writes that slaves were tonsured to keep monasteries populated. 53. See Ildefonsus’s bibliography of Donatus, De viris illustribus III, ed. Yarza Urquiola and Carmen Codoñer, CCSL 114a, 605–​6. Translation in Andrew Fear, Lives of the Visigothic Fathers, 111–​12. Discussion of this and other African monastic influences is in Roger Collins, Visigothic Spain, 409–​711 (Oxford and Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2004), 151–​59. 54. Isidore, De viris illustribus XXVIII. El “De viris illustribus” de Isidoro de Sevilla, ed. Carmen Codoñer Merino (Salamanca:  Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Instituto “Antonio de Nebrija,” Colegio Trilingüe de la Universidad, 1964), 149.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation His “polyvalent” education probably included both contemplative practices and training in the pastoral roles of a bishop.55 Other Visigothic bishop-​monks included John of Saragossa (older brother of Braulio), Fructuosus of Braga, and Ildefonsus of Toledo. Ildefonsus was only the most famous of Toledan bishops educated at Agali in the second half of the century.56 These men acquired a vast knowledge of patristic sources. Although it is not certain how far their training extended to the seven liberal arts, as presented comprehensively in Isidore’s Etymologiae, training in grammar and rhetoric is highly probable.57 This level of monastic education, however, was undoubtedly exceptional. Although Iberian monasteries placed great importance on the written word, as elsewhere in the West, most rules do not speak to universal literacy, nor do they hint at a formal system of education.58 All extant Iberian monastic rules refer to reading in some contexts, but also to listening and discussing. Isidore’s rule, however, is exceptional in describing a process of learning to read. According to Isidore, children were trained in the “art of letters” under the guidance of a monk chosen by the abbot.59 Isidore’s provision for private reading also suggests a degree of literacy, specifying that books be requested from the sacristan at prime and returned after vespers.60 Yet is unclear whether this was the norm. Neil Allies points to the deliberate simplicity of language in Isidore’s rule as 55. Fontaine, “Fins et moyens de l’enseignement ecclésiastique dans l’Espagne wisigothique,” 172–​74; Fontaine, Isidore de Séville: genèse et originalité de la culture hispanique au temps des Wisigoths (Turnhout:  Brepols, 2000), 92–​93. Most recently, Pedro Castillo Maldonado, “Living a Christian Life: Isidore of Seville on Monasticism, Teaching, and Learning,” in A Companion to Isidore of Seville, ed. Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood (Leiden: Brill, 2020), 301–​31. 56. On Idlefonsus’s profession at Agali, see Ildefonsus, De viris illustribus, CCSL 114a, 608–​9; translation in Fear, Lives of the Visigothic Fathers, 114. On Agali, see, inter alia, Díaz, “Monasticism and Liturgy in Visigothic Spain,” 182; Michael Kelly, “Writing History, Narrating Fulfillment: The ‘Isidore Moment’ and the Struggle for the ‘Before now’ in Late Antique and Early Medieval Hispania” (PhD thesis, University of Leeds, 2014), especially 40–​48; Roger Collins, Visigothic Spain, 409–​711, 167–​68. 57. José Carracedo Fraga, “De gramáticas y gramáticos en la Hispania visigótica,” in Wisigothica. After M.C. Díaz y Díaz, ed. Carmen Codoñer and Paulo Farmhouse Alberto (Florence: SISMEL, Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2014), 67–​90; José Carracedo Fraga, “Isidore of Seville as a Grammarian,” in A Companion to Isidore of Seville, ed. Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood (Leiden: Brill, 2020), 22–​44; Rebecca Maloy, “Education, Science, and Medicine,” in A Companion to Visigothic Hispania, ed. Damián Fernández, Molly Lester, and Jamie Wood (Leiden: Brill, forthcoming). 58. Fructuosus’s rules, for example, assume a knowledge of the psalter for the purpose of saying the office, but do not directly address the how monks were to be educated. The evidence is reviewed in Neil Allies, “The Monastic Rules of Visigothic Iberia: A Study of Their Text and Language” (PhD thesis, University of Birmingham, 2009), 84–​111. 59. Isidore of Seville, Regula, ed. Julio Campos Ruiz, Reglas monásticas de la españa visigoda (Madrid: Biblioteca de autores christianos, 1971), 121–​22. 60. Isidore of Seville, Regula, 103.

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54 Songs of Sacrifice evidence that a high level of literacy was not expected of all converts; Isidore allows for professions to be made orally, suggesting that some converts were illiterate.61 The monastic rules thus underline a gulf between the educational ideals promoted by Isidore and others, and monastic converts from the lower social strata. Scriptural understanding, however, need not be synonymous with a high level of literacy. Monks were required to know the psalter by heart. Scripture was read out loud in many monastic contexts, within designated educational spaces.62 Learning ideally took place through conferences with a teacher in which questions were asked, difficult points clarified, and obscure passages of scripture explained with reference to more familiar ones. Isidore recommends this both for monks and as general advice. In Sententiae he writes: “Since reading is useful for instruction, greater understanding is supplied when a conference is summoned; it is better to hold a conference than to read . . . when something is obscure or doubtful, a conference quickly clarifies it.”63 In Isidore’s rule, vespers is followed either by group conferences to discuss scripture or by silent meditation.64 If questions emerge in private reading, a monk should consult with the abbot.65 This kind of oral teaching extended to bishops as well. John of Saragossa and other bishops, for example, are described by Ildefonsus as learned men who taught “more through speech than through writing.”66 Through hearing and discussing scripture, those who could not read could still participate in a textual culture, forming a community that shared a common understanding of meaning.67 The allegorical understanding of the Old Testament that underlies our chants was certainly part of this shared understanding. On occasion, we can see the teaching of this kind of exegesis through correspondence. Fructuosus, for example, asks Braulio for clarification on how Methuselah lived to the age of 61. Neil Allies, “The Sermo Plebeius and the Spoken Language in the Monastic Rule of Isidore of Seville,” in In Search of the Medieval Voice, ed. Lorna Bleach et  al. (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2009), 3–​19. 62. Allies, “Monastic Rules,” 99 ff. Jamie Wood, “Monastic Space as Educative Space in Visigothic Iberia,” Visigothic Symposium 2 (2017–​2018): 79–​98. 63. Isidore of Seville, Sententiae III.14. CCSL 111, 239–​40. 64. Isidore of Seville, Regula, 102. 65. Isidore of Seville, Regula, Campos Ruiz, 103. 66. Ildefonsus, De viris illustribus V, CCSL 114a, 607. Oral education through repetition is also described by Julian of Toledo. See the discussion in Fernandez Alonso, La cura pastoral, 98. 67. Neil Allies, “The Monastic Rules of Visigothic Iberia, 100–​3. On textual community, Brian Stock, The Implications of Literacy: Written Language and Models of Interpretation in the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1983), 90. On the role of social memory, along with a recent synthesis of work on Medieval orality and literacy, see Graham Barrett, “The Written and the World in Early Medieval Iberia” (PhD diss., Balliol College, Oxford, 2015).

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation 969, as described in the book of Genesis. At length, Braulio engages the question on the historical level before advising Fructuosus to turn to the “mystical understanding of the Old Testament for understanding of the New, rather than that our investigation should consist in superficial historical interpretation.”68 At the end of the sixth century, Leander had given similar advice to his sister Florentina, discouraging the nuns in her community from reading the Old Testament in a corporal or literal way. Instead, they should understand its apparent defects, such as men with many wives, “spiritually,” and “gather the truth of history from a spiritual understanding of the fault.”69 Leander illustrates this with reference to sacrifice. Animals “were offered because they were a figure of the true sacrifice, the body and blood of Christ.”70 It is doubtful, then, that educated Christians in Visigothic Iberia, which included Florentina’s community of nuns, understood the sacrificia and similar chants only in terms of their literal meaning. For them, the bringing forward of bread and wine as the chant was sung was a visual enactment of their own spiritual understanding. While the environment of study and contemplation in elite monastic environments could facilitate a high level of scriptural understanding, we must also contend with copious evidence for a lack of such learning among ordinary clergy. The Visigothic Councils repeatedly stress the education of clergy and, in turn, their role in educating the laity. Clerical education was, after all, central to the promotion of unity and orthodoxy that lay at the heart of the Visigothic cultural project. How was a priest able to teach others, Isidore asks, if he himself is unlearned?71 Isidore mandates that lectors, a lower level of clergy, have a thorough understanding of meaning and syntax in order to deliver the text correctly.72 The councils provide few details as to curriculum and method, however. As described in Toledo II (527), boys whose parents wished them to become clerics were brought to the “domus ecclesiae” to be educated under the care of the bishop.73 Another sixth-​century council states that literacy is required to carry out clerical duties.74 Toledo IV mandates that priests know the scriptures and canons, since they were tasked with teaching the people, and that newly ordained priests be given a “libellum officiale.”75 The councils rarely specify how much learning was required to carry out the duties, though

68. Letter 46. Madoz, ed. Epistolario de San Braulio, 203. 69. Leander, De institutione virginum et de contemptu mundi, ed. Julio Campos Ruiz, Reglas monásticas,  54–​55. 70. Leander, De institutione virginum, 54. 71. Sententiae III.xxxv. CCSL 111, 275–​76. 72. Isidore, De ecclesiasticis II.xi. CCSL 113, 70. 73. Toledo II, Canon I, in Vives, ed. Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos, 42. 74. Council of Narbona, Canon XI, in Vives, ed. Concilios visigóticos, 148–​49. 75. Toledo IV, Canons XXV and XXVI, in Vives, ed. Concilios visigóticos, 202.

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56 Songs of Sacrifice Toledo VIII (653) suggests that the whole psalter, canticles, hymns, and baptismal rite were required.76 These councils, along with a reference in Toledo IV to young people living “in uno conclavii atrii,” surely imply the existence of episcopal schools.77 Toledo VI, in fact defines a role for the church in educating the children of its freed slaves.78 The standards and methods of education, however, must have varied widely, without a uniform curriculum or a rigid distinction between clerical and monastic education.79 Braulio’s letters point to a high level of learning among some clergy. The priest Iactatus read Augustine, Jerome, Hilary, and “other most learned men.”80 Yet, as the repeated mandates in the councils suggest, clerical education and discipline remained an ongoing concern among bishops. In the late sixth century, Licinianus, bishop of Cartagena, asked Gregory I to reconsider his mandate that priests be skilled:  if that were the requirement, there would be no priests.81 The council of Narbona (589) states that deacons and priests who cannot read be sent to a monastery, since they cannot participate in the Christian formation of the people.82 Braga III (675), pertaining only to that province, refers to priests who offer milk or grapes in the Eucharist instead of wine and takes pains to explain why bread and wine must be used instead.83 Despite widespread assumptions in earlier scholarship that Isidore’s pedagogical works were widely used in Visigothic clerical education, then, these councils suggest that the bishops’ educational program represented a prescriptive model that would not have taken root among all clergy.84 As a general principle, we might 76. Toledo VIII, Canon VIII, in Vives, ed. Concilios visigóticos, 281. 77. Toledo IV, Canon XXIV, in Vives, ed. Concilios visigóticos, 201. See discussions in, inter alia, Fernández Alonso, La cura pastoral en la España romanovisigoda, 81–​88; 95–​93; 104–​ 9; Pierre Riché, Education and Culture in the Barbarian West, Sixth through Eighth Centuries (Columbia: University of South Carolina Press, 1976), 285–​90; Martín Hernández, “La formación del clero en la iglesia visigótico-​mozárabe,” in Hispania Christiana: estudios en honor del Prof. Dr. José Orlandis Rovira en su septuagésimo aniversario, ed. José Orlandis, Josep-​Ignasi Saranyana, and Eloy Tejero (Pamplona: Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, 1988), 193–​213; Ana María Jorge, “Church and Culture in Lusitania,” 116–​17. 78. Toledo VI, Canon X, in Vives, ed., Concilios visigóticos, 240–​41. 79. Jacques Fontaine, “Fins et moyens de l’enseignement ecclésiastique dans l’Espagne wisigothique,” in La scuola nell’Occidente latino dell’Alto Medioevo (Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 19:15–​21 April 1971), vol. 1, 161–​65 (Spoleto: Centro Italiano di Studi sull’Alto Medioevo, 1972), 172–​74; Jacques Fontaine, Isidore de Séville: genése et originalité,  92–​93. 80. Letter 9, in José Madoz, ed. Epistolario de San Braulio de Zaragoza,  89–​91. 81. Text in John R. C. Martyn, “Letters from Spain to Pope Gregory the Great,” Journal of the Australian Early Medieval Association 2 (2006): 157–​67; at 165. 82. Canon XI, in Vives, ed., Concilios visigóticos, 148–​49. 83. Canon I, in Vives, ed., Concilios visigóticos, 372. 84. For example, Martín Hernández, “La formación del clero en la iglesia visigótico-​ mozárabe”; Fernández Alonso, La cura pastoral en la España romanovisigoda,  88–​91.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation imagine that clergy in urban areas and those close to episcopal sees formed something of a textual community in which continued learning could take place, as would well-​endowed monasteries. It seems clear, however, that what is being promoted in the councils is not the kind of intellectual formation envisaged in the works of Isidore and other bishops, but a basic ability carry out clerical duties correctly.

The Liturgy as Theological Education However much we question the effectiveness of their training, many Visigothic clergy would presumably have had ongoing access to one educational tool: the liturgy.85 They were required to say the daily office. In the Old Hispanic liturgy, the office provided a means for the continued learning of scriptural exegesis, often based on the chant texts. In the Verona Orationale, whose contents probably date from the late Visigothic period, the prayers offer a concise exegesis of the preceding antiphon or responsory, which is based on a short passage of scripture. Derived at times from identifiable patristic sources, the prayers yield direct insight into the meanings the chant was meant to hold for their creators and listeners. The basis of these prayers in specific chants, unique among Western liturgies, testifies to the importance of chant in Iberian Christian education and formation.86 The prayers often convey, in a concise way, the different senses of scripture, as shown in the prayer following the Passiontide antiphon Omnes amici mei (Table 2.1). In the chant itself, loosely based on Job and parallel passages from Jeremiah and Psalm 87, we find the historical or literal sense: Job’s lament that his friends have abandoned him. The prayer begins in a standard way, with a remembrance or anamnesis. In identifying Christ as the speaker of the words “all my friends have abandoned me,” it conveys a typological understanding of Job’s words as pertaining to Christ, suffering in his passion. This reading echoes both Gregory and Isidore. Gregory interprets this passage of Job as being about Jesus’s rejection by “the synagogue,” metonymy for the Jews, and Isidore, in De fide catholica, adopts the same reading of the parallel Psalm verse, 87:19.87 In a standard manner, the prayer continues with an invocation or epiclesis. Here we find the moral (or “tropological”) reading, asking that the congregation be 85. For a very broad introduction to the concept of Medieval liturgy as education, see Evelyn Birge Vitz, “Liturgy as Education in the Middle Ages,” in Medieval Education, ed. Ronald B. Begley and Joseph W. Koterski (New  York:  Fordham University Press, 2005),  20–​34. 86. Hornby and Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants, 41–​47; Hornby and Maloy, “Biblical Commentary in the Old Hispanic Liturgy.” 87. Gregory, Moralia in Iob XIV.47, ed. Marcus Adriaen, CCSL 143a, 727. Isidore of Seville, De fide catholica XXV, PL 83, col. 480.

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58 Songs of Sacrifice Table 2.1 Antiphon Omnes amici and Its Prayer Chant text

Probable sources

Prayer from the OV (italicized parts cite or paraphrase the chant)

Christe, dei filius, qui ab a. Job 19:14: dereliquerunt me propinqui mei et omnibus amici passionis tempore derelictus es, dum qui me noverant obliti sunt mei sinagogae ex qua natus fueras, and/​or Jeremiah 30:14: omnes amatores tui obliti sunt tui iaculis moriturus inpeteris, et a discipulis inminentis te non quaerent persecutionis turbine and/​or Psalm 87:19: elongasti a desolaris: da nobis, ut gloriose me amicum et proximum et notos passionis tuae iniuria non ad meos a miseria timorem, sed ad victoriam nos vitiorum semper accendat: ut b. tradidit me quem b. Job 19:19 in eo, quod tu pro nobis eum, quem maxime diligebam aversatus diligebam; quem diligebas, traditorem est me sustulisti patienter discipulum, nos beneplacitum tibi sine c. Jeremiah 30:13 c. domine iudica intermissione persolvamus non est qui iudicet iudicium tuum causam istam nostrorum operum famulatum. a. Omnes amici mei dereliquerunt me et insidiantes mihi

spurred, in remembering Christ’s suffering and Judas’s betrayal, to overcome their faults. Together, then, the antiphon and prayer concisely present the three senses of scripture Isidore defines in Sententiae. In many prayers, one also finds an anagogical reading—​the traditional fourth sense of scripture—​relating to heavenly life or eternity. The prayer for the responsory Scio, for example, interprets Job 30:23–​24 as prefiguring Christ’s descent to hell and continues, “free us at that time from the depths of hell with your manifest power, you who alone who deigned to lay down your soul for the impious.”88 As these examples show, the prayers of the OV convey interpretations of specific biblical texts that were sung in the office, transmitting patristic traditions in a concise way reminiscent of the theological digests Isidore compiled. The prayers also model how to do exegesis, concisely stating the different senses in which the text could be read. In both ways, they forwarded the educational goals of the Visigothic church, in which the teaching of biblical exegesis played a central role.89 Together, then, these chant texts and the prayers based on them exemplify one way that the bishops’ educational program was meant to be put into action, as performative orthodoxy and exegesis, to combat clerical ignorance. As I argue in the next chapter, the sacrificium texts were created with a similar purpose. 88. Vives, Oracional visigótico, 251. 89. Similar “doctrinal” tendencies have been noted in the sacramentary, though the language is often less direct. See Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “Literary Aspects of the Visigothic Liturgy,”  61–​76.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation

The Use of Liturgy and Chant in Education The biblical texts that pervade the liturgy were also a fundamental tool in general education. As elsewhere in Medieval Europe, training probably began with the psalter.90 In a rare account of teaching method from late Visigothic Iberia, the northern Iberian monk Valerio of Bierzo, who seems to have taught many boys in the rural landscape, describes a method in which psalms were read and recited back, allowing one boy to have the psalms and canticles memorized within six months.91 It is not surprising, then, that excerpts from the psalms are among the extant examples of Visigothic writing on slate thought to be school exercises. As Isabel Velázquez Soriano has shown, these citations correspond textually to versions of the psalter used in the Old Hispanic liturgy.92 The slates hint that liturgy and chant were also used in education. A slate from Salvatierra de Tormes near Salamanca, thought to be from the end of the seventh century, contains an array of liturgical texts, likely including several chants, with possible abbreviations of “antiphon” and “responsory.”93 The most convincing example of a chant on this slate begins “super lapidem sepulchri,” which departs from the biblical source in a way that is identical to the opening of a responsory for Easter Sunday.94 Other texts correspond to chants from the fifth Sunday in Lent and the following Wednesday, and to prayers from the sanctorale. Although these texts may reflect training expressly for participation in the liturgy, only selected liturgical items appear on this slate, spread across different parts of the calendar. It may be, then, that these specific texts, familiar to boys from their liturgical use, were chosen to illustrate particular aspects of grammar or vocabulary. In either case, this slate suggests that the liturgy, including chant, could play a role in basic education.

90. Most work on training for the liturgy has dealt with later periods, where the evidence is more plentiful. See, inter alia, the synthesis in Susan Boynton, “Training for the Liturgy as a Form of Monastic Education,” in Medieval Monastic Education, ed. George Ferzoco and Carolyn Muessig (London: Leicester University Press, 2000), 7–​20. 91. “Cum [autem] parvulum quemdam pupillum litteris imbuerem, tantam dispensatio divina dedit illi memoriae capacitatem, ut intra medium annum peragrans cum canticis universum memoria retinet Psalterium. Cum vero quodam die hora sexta diei ad operam sederem, et ille coram me legeret . . . Tunc mandavi illi electos psalmos recitare. . . .” Valerius of Bierzo, Ordo querimoniae, PL 87, col. 447. This passage is discussed in Riché, Education and Culture in the Barbarian West, 282; 359–​60. 92. Isabel Velázquez Soriano, Las pizarras visigodas:  edición crítica y estudio (Murcia: Universidad de Murcia. Secretariado de publicaciones e intercambio científico, 1989), 624–​38. 93. Slate no. 7, in Velázquez Soriano, Las pizarras visigoda, 158–​59; discussion at 633–​36. 94. Velázquez Soriano notes these departures from Matthew 28:2. Las pizarras visigodas, 634–​35.

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60 Songs of Sacrifice Chant continued to be a primary way of knowing scripture in Iberia into the next centuries. When he cites the psalter, Theodulf of Orleans, thought to be a “Visigoth” from the Iberian Peninsula, refers not to the Mozarabic psalter, but to the Old Hispanic antiphonary. As Ann Freeman has noted, chant texts “so impressed themselves on Theodulf ’s mind that they have become, as it were, part of his natural speech.”95 Scriptural sources are, in fact, identified in the earliest complete manuscript of the Old Hispanic chant, León 8, which is very rare in chant manuscripts. Intermittent glosses in the manuscript clarify the meanings of obscure words or offer brief exegeses of the chant texts. Together, these bits of evidence hint at the importance of liturgy and chant in the Iberian culture of scriptural knowledge and understanding. When coupled with melodies that were sung year after year, chant texts helped to imprint scripture in memory. As I will show in Chapter 3, the Old Hispanic texts imparted a particular, Christianized reworking of scripture, which served as a way of teaching doctrine. For clergy, then, the liturgy served as performative pedagogy that permeated their initial training and provided a daily means for continued reinforcement. The didactic nature of the liturgical texts implies that the liturgy was a means through which Isidore’s program of clerical education was put into practice.

Communicating to the Laity: Christian Initiation, Formation, and Preaching How laity in late antiquity understood and practiced Christianity has been the subject of much speculation and debate. Some were certainly able to read scripture, as Caesarius of Arles had urged lay people to do in Gaul.96 In Iberia, Braulio’s correspondence implies the reading of scripture among some members of the laity, including women.97 Indeed, Iberia is believed to have had a higher level of general literacy than that found elsewhere, as evident in the Lex Visigothorum compiled under Recceswinth, inscriptions, notarial documents, and the writing on slate discussed above.98 Sisebut, who ruled from 612 to 621, 95. Ann Freeman,“Theodulf of Orléans and the Psalm Citations of the ‘Libri Carolini,’” Revue Bénédictine 97 (1987): 195–​224; at 218–​19. 96. Lisa Kaaren Bailey, The Religious Worlds of the Laity in Late Antique Gaul (London: Bloomsbury Academic Publishing, 2016), 142–​43. 97. For example, he sent a copy of Judith and Tobit to the noblewoman Apicella to console her for death of her husband. Letter 16, in José Madoz, ed., Epistolario de San Braulio, 112–​16. 98. Riché, Education and Culture in the Barbarian West, 246–​65; Roger Collins, “Literacy and the Laity in Early Medieval Spain,” in The Uses of Literacy in Early Medieval Europe, ed. Rosamond McKitterick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 109–​33. For a recent synthesis of this evidence, see Graham Barrett, “God’s Librarian: Isidore of Seville and

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation cites works of Jerome, Augustine, and Gregory in his letters.99 He was also well versed in hagiography and anti-​heretical discourse, which he counted among his political tools.100 Though Sisebut’s literary output is exceptional, training in letters was probably typical for the Visigothic nobility. The Institutionum disciplinae, a late-​seventh-​century manual of conduct for young members of the Visigothic nobility, recommends the study of all seven liberal arts, law, and medicine.101 Roger Collins, in fact, has hypothesized that members of the aristocracy were educated a palace school that was closely connected to the episcopacy.102 The presence of at least one biblical commentary in the library of a count is witnessed in Braulio’s correspondence.103 Whether or not they could read, ordinary laity undoubtedly understood some of the texts delivered in the liturgy. The liturgy was varied in its level of linguistic complexity; some prayers were undoubtedly composed by and for an intellectual elite.104 Liturgical readings and sermons, however, communicated on a more basic level. Oral reading could bridge the gap between the written Latin of the educated and the “rustic” speech of the illiterate; in Visigothic Iberia, they had not become completely distinct.105 Isidore’s intention that liturgical readings be understood is suggested by his admonition to lectors, cited above, to understand sentence structure and content in order to communicate more effectively.106 Readings and sermons can thus serve as a guide to the kinds of knowledge that members of the laity were expected to bring to the understanding of chant. His Literary Agenda,” in A Companion to Isidore of Seville, ed. Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood (Leiden: Brill, 2020), 42–​100. 99. Martín Iglesias, “La biblioteca cristiana de los padres hispanovisigodos (siglos VI–​ VII).” For an overview of Sisebut’s literary output, Hen, Roman Barbarians, 128–​41. 100. Fontaine, “King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii and the Political Function of Visigothic Hagiography.” 101. Pierre Riché, “L’Education a l’epoque wisigothique: les ‘Institutionum disciplinae’,” Annales toledanos 3 (1971), 171–​80. 102. Collins, “Literacy and the Laity in Early Medieval Spain,” 115–​16; Roger Collins, “Julian of Toledo and the Education of Kings in Late-​Seventh-​Century Spain,” in Law, Culture, and Regionalism in Early Medieval Spain (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1992), Chapter 3. 103. Letter 15, in Madoz, ed. Epistolario de San Braulio, 109–​12. 104. Andrew Kurt, “Lay Piety in Visigothic Iberia:  Liturgical and Paraliturgical Forms,” Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies 8 (2016): 20–​22; Díaz y Díaz,“Literary Aspects of theVisigothic Liturgy”; Eleonora Dell’Elicine, “Discurso, gesto, y comunicación en la liturgia visigoda (589–​ 711),” Bulletin du centre d’études médiévales d’Auxerre 2 (2008): 1–​23; Eleonora Dell’Elicine, En el principio fue el verbo: políticas del signo y estrategias del poder eclesiástico en el reino visigodo de Toledo (589–​711) (Cádiz: Universidad de Cádiz, Servicio de Publicaciones, 2013), 84–​96. 105. Roger Wright, Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France (Liverpool: F. Cairns, 1982); Michel Banniard, Viva voce: communication écrite et communication orale du IVe au IXe siècle en occident latin (Paris: Institut des Études augustiniennes, 1992), 181–​251. 106. See note 72 above.

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62 Songs of Sacrifice An initial bridge between the clergy and laity was formed through the rites of initiation, including baptism.107 A  concern with Christianizing the entire population is reflected in the forced conversions of Jews ordered by Sisebut.108 Archeological evidence confirms the emphasis placed on baptism in the early seventh century.109 At the episcopal complex in Barcelona, for example, a font was replaced by an octagonal pool, and at the Alcázar in Seville, a rectangular pool dating from the fourth or fifth century might have been altered into an octagonal shape.110 El Tolmo’s font was modified on several occasions, turned from a cross-​shaped pool into a smaller font, perhaps attesting to an increased frequency of infant baptisms later in the century.111 Because initiation was an important part of the bishops’ cultural project, the focus on baptism is not 107. See Jamie Wood, “Elites and Baptism:  Religious ‘Strategies of Distinction’ in Visigothic Spain,” in Elite and Popular Religion: Papers Read at the 2004 Summer Meeting and the 2005 Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society, ed. Kate Cooper and James Gregory (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2006), 3–​27; and Kurt, “Lay Piety in Visigothic Iberia.” 108. The forced conversions, discussed in greater depth in Chapter 3 (pp. 96–101), have been posited as the reason for the continued presence of an adult catechumenate in Spain. See especially Christian McConnell, “Baptism in Visigothic Spain: Origins, Development, and Interpretation,” PhD diss., University of Notre Dame, 2005, 146–​47; see also Nathan Chase, “From Arianism to Orthodoxy: The Role of the Rites of Initiation in Uniting the Visigothic Kingdom,” forthcoming in Hispania sacra. 109. See Cristina Godoy Fernández, “Los ritos bautismales en la antigüedad tardía: una lectura arqueológica desde los textos escritos,” in La dualitat de baptisteris en les ciutats episcopals del cristianisme tardoantic:  Actes del I  Simposi d’arqueologia cristiana, Barcelona, FHEAG-​ AUSP, 26–​27 de maig de 2016, ed. Julia Beltrán de Heredia Bercero and Christina Godoy Fernández (Barcelona:  Ateneu Universitari Sant Pacià, Facultat Antoni Gaudí d’Història, Arqueologia i Arts Cristianes; Facultat de Teologia de Catalunya, 2017), 173–​198; Cristina Godoy Fernández, “Baptisterios hispánicos (siglos IV al VIII). Arqueología y liturgia,” in Actes du XIe Congrès International d’Archéologie Chrétienne. Lyon,Vienne, Grenoble, Genève, Aoste (21–​28 septembre 1986), ed. Noël Duval (Rome:  École française de Rome, 1989), 607–​35; Cristina Godoy Fernández, “Arqueología y liturgia: Iglesias Hispánicas (siglos IV Al VIII)” (Barcelona: Universitat de Barcelona, 2007). 110. See synthesis and references in Rose Walker, Art in Spain and Portugal from the Romans to the Early Middle Ages: Routes and Myths (Kalamazoo, MI: Medieval Institute Publications, 2016), 118 and 125. 111. Sonia Gutiérrez Lloret and Julia Sarabia Bautista, “The Episcopal Complex of Eio-​el Tolmo de Minateda (Héllín, Albacete, Spain). Architecture and Spatial Organization, 7th to 8th centuries ad,” Hortus Artium Medievalium 19 (2013): 267–​300; at 272. Substantial changes were also made to fonts at El Bovalar (near Lleida), and the Casa Herrera basilica in Mérida. Lorenzo Abad Casal, Sonia Gutiérrez Lloret, and Blanca Gamo Parras, “La Basílica Baptistero del Tolmo de Minateda (Hellín, Albacete, Spain),” Archivio Español de Archeología 73 (2000): 193–​221; Walker, Art in Spain, 125; Luís Caballero Zoreda, “Espacios de la liturgia hispana de los siglos V–​X:  Segün la arqueología,” in El canto mozárabe y su entorno: Estudios sobre la música de la liturgía viejo hispánica, ed. Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta, 259–​91 (Madrid: Sociedad Española de Musicología, 2013). On the trajectory from adult to infant baptisms, see McConnell, “Baptism in Visigothic Spain,” 172; 184–​91.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation surprising.The rituals surrounding baptism served not only to promote conversion, but also to assert distinctive roles for bishops, priests, and laity.112 Although priests were permitted to baptize, for example, many councils define chrismation as the sole purview of bishops, representing a departure from earlier policy.113 Through these injunctions, chrismation reinforced the bishops’ power and symbolically strengthened the unity of the kingdom.114 For catechumens, the bishops’ first priorities were instilling basic doctrine through the creed, as well as moral education and the avoidance of pagan practices.115 Continued learning took place through liturgical prayer, reading, and preaching.116 For infants, the adult sponsors took on these responsibilities. The teaching of doctrine through the liturgy, of course, was no mere intellectual exercise. Its purpose was the shaping of Christian souls. As Derek Krueger has persuasively argued in his study of Byzantium, liturgy helped to fashion a Christian self, both individual and collective.117 When the moral sense of scripture is invoked in the prayer discussed in Table 2.1, for example, the biblical passage becomes a hope for the salvation of the gathered faithful. Jesus’ abandonment and betrayal by Judas becomes linked to the lived experience and moral shaping of every congregant, calling, in Krueger’s words, “the [Christian] subject into formation.”118 In Visigothic Iberia, this formation began with the catechumenate process, focused within the twenty days leading to baptism at the Easter Vigil. One of its central elements, as noted, was the ritualized teaching of the creed, first mentioned in the Second Council of Braga (572) and central to the Nicene faith on which the church’s self-​definition rested.119 In late antiquity, the overriding goal of the teaching of the creed and doctrine was not particular articles of faith per se; rather, a “right orientation of the will” would allow scripture and doctrine to make an impression on and transform the mind, enabling further, lifelong formation.120 In keeping with this aim, the sermons directed toward the initiates or their adult sponsors in Visigothic Iberia place more focus on the transformational power of conversion than on intellectual understanding. After the inscriptions of the names of the initiates on Mid-​Lent Sunday, a 112. Wood, “Elites and Baptism”; Dell’Elicine, En el principio fue el verbo, 97–​104. 113. McConnell, “Baptism in Visigothic Spain,” 70–​78; 148, 155. 114. Chase, “From Arianism to Orthodoxy.” 115. See Braga II, canon I, in Vives, ed., Concilios visigóticos, 81. 116. José Maria Hormaeche Bansuri, La pastoral de la iniciación en la España visigoda (Toledo: Estudio Teológico de S. Ildefonso, 1983), 54–​55. 117. Derek Krueger, Liturgical Subjects: Christian Ritual, Biblical Narrative, and the Formation of the Self in Byzantium (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014). 118. Krueger, Liturgical Subjects, 91. 119. Canon I, in Vives, ed., Concilios Visigothicos, 81. 120. Harrison, The Art of Listening in the Early Church, 87–​102; at 90.

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64 Songs of Sacrifice sermon addressed to them invoked the history of salvation that began in the Old Testament, fusing past and present in a way that encouraged the catechumens and gathered faithful to see themselves in that story. “Hear God speaking through me today, as he once spoke through Moses: you have been called forth, be strong, so that you hear and discern the power of God, just as you acquired strength when that same author of life breathed into your face and man was made into a living being [Genesis 2:7].”121 When the creed was formally given to the initiates on Palm Sunday,122 those who had memorized it were exhorted to “write it in your heart and say it among yourselves each day. Before sleeping and before going forth, fortify yourselves with your creed.”123 Catechumens were encouraged to review the creed often, “lest forgetfulness erase what reading does not carry,” and to “let your memory be your codex.”124 Although this sermon shows that literacy was not required for members of the laity to internalize the creed, the creed does appear on one of the Visigothic slates, suggesting that it was also taught through writing.125 Within the liturgy, then, the initial focus was on the internalization of the creed rather than the explanation of its meaning. At the same time, the teaching of doctrine in the more traditional sense continued to matter in the mid-​seventh century. Ildefonsus’s catechumenal treatise De cognitione baptismi emphasizes that converts should understand the creed, rather than merely being able to recite it.126 As part of catechumenal instruction, Ildefonsus introduces some of the basic biblical typologies of the kind that are invoked in the sacrificia, such Adam and Moyses as types of Christ, Eve as the church, and the Exodus from Egypt and Passover as Easter.127 121. The sermon is edited in Germán Prado, Textos inéditos de la liturgia mozárabe rito solemne de la iniciación cristiana, consagración de las iglesias, unción de los enfermos (Madrid: Centro de Estudios Históricos 1929), 20–​23. For a brief commentary on this sermon, see Nathan Chase, “The Homiliae Toletanae and the Theology of Lent and Easter,” MA thesis, Catholic University Leuven, 70–​72. 122. This custom, reflected in the extant liturgical sources, is also mentioned by Isidore in De ecclesiasticis officiis I. xxviii; CCSL 113, 31. 123. The sermon is edited in Germán Prado, Textos inéditos, 40–​42. On the pastoral and educational aspects of the baptismal rite more generally, see, inter alia, Justo Fernández Alonso, La cura pastoral en la España romanovisigoda (Rome: Iglesia Nacional Española, 1955), 81–​82; Fontaine, “Fins et moyens de l’enseignement ecclésiastique dans l’Espagne wisigothique,” 168–​69. 124. “Simbolum enim nemo scribit, ut legi possit; sed ad recensendum, ne forte deleat oblivio quod non tradit lectio. Sit vobis codex vestra memoria.” Prado, Textos inéditos, 41. 125. José Manuel Ruiz Ascensio, “Pizarra visigoda con credo,” in Escritos dedicados a José María Fernández Catón, vol. 2, 2 vols. (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación “San Isidoro,” 2004), 1317–​28. 126. Ildefonsus, De cognitione baptismi XXXIII–​LXXVIII, CCSL 114a, 370–​93. 127. Ildefonsus, De cognitione baptismi VII and XCVII–​CIII, CCSL 114a, 356 and 403–​7.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation This narrative aspect of the baptismal ritual, part of initiation from early Christian times, was an important dimension in the formation of Christian identity.128 It was reinforced each time the stories were told in the liturgy, whether through readings, sermons, or chants. Many of the sacrificia also connect to these kinds of salvation narratives, particularly on the quotidiano Sundays.129 Like the rest of the liturgy, the chant was aimed at the shaping of the Christian self and identity, once the soul had been transformed by baptism and the learning of the creed. Although the sacrificia only rarely invoke subject formation with a first-​person singular or plural voice, they did so in other ways. Just as the first sermon to the catechumens asked congregants to see themselves in the creation story of Genesis, they were meant to see themselves when this and other stories were recounted in the sacrificia. As narratives of Old Testament sacrifice were sung, they were glossed by the visible liturgical actions of bringing forward and preparing bread and wine, joining past sacrifices to the liturgical present. With their presence and participation in the Eucharist, congregants became part of this story.

Reading, Preaching, and Chant On major feasts, the sacrificia were heard in relation to a set of interrelated texts that were proper to the liturgical occasion: readings, prayers, sermons, and other chants. These texts helped to shape the understanding of the chant in myriad ways. The content of the sermons, in particular, was often specifically directed toward the laity, and priests (not only bishops) were given permission to preach.130 As the most pastoral part of the mass, preaching aimed to inculcate correct beliefs and behaviors that would ensure the salvation of the faithful. Martin of Braga’s De correctione rusticorum, for example, contains a sample sermon addressed to those in Galicia who persisted in pagan practice.131 The collection of sermons preserved in the “Toledo homiliary,” believed to have been compiled in the seventh century, combines patristic sermons of Jerome and Augustine, Gallican material from Caesarius of Arles and the Eusebius 128. Reidar Aasgaard, “Ambrose and Augustine: Two Bishops on Baptism and Christian Identity,” in Ablution, Initiation, and Baptism: Late Antiquity, Early Judaism, and Early Christianity, ed. David Hellholm (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010), 1253–​82. 129. See Chapter 1, pp. 33–37. 130. Sacerdotal preaching is suggested by the councils of Valencia (546), Seville II (619), and Toledo IV (633). See Fernández Alonso, La cura pastoral en la España romanovisigoda, 395–​414. 131. Though it is unclear how effective this was. See Jamie Wood, “Predicación, pedagogía, y persuasión: la educación cristiana en occidente,” in La Iglesia colo sistema de dominación en la antigüedad tardía, ed. José Fernández Ubiña, J. Quiroga Puertas, and Purificación Ubric Rabaneda (Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2014), 231–​53.

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66 Songs of Sacrifice Gallicanus collection, and some unica sermons, particularly for important festivals.132 The sermons in the homiliary remind us that the surrounding liturgical elements complemented the sacrificia, reinforcing, glossing, or clarifying their meaning. The sermons are not typically concerned with biblical exegesis per se and are not always based on the readings for the day. The purpose was more often to convey a basic understanding of the liturgical festival or season and ensure that it was observed correctly, both in belief and behavior. The readings and sermons on major feasts are often closely related to the sacrificia, with the three types of text reinforcing the same pastoral message. On the first Sunday of Lent, for example, the sacrificium Hii dies is about the observation of Lent, fitting seamlessly into other such messages delivered throughout the day’s mass. Good works were lauded in the epistle (James 2:21–​3:13), followed by fasting and almsgiving in the sermon. These admonitions to keep Lent properly were then restated in Hii dies:  “These are the days of prayer that shall be sacred to you  .  .  .  everyone who does not observe them will be cut off from the people.” On the fourth Sunday in Lent, the sacrificium connects to other liturgical texts that anticipate Easter. A congregation would hear the Lazarus gospel reading, followed by a sermon that emphasized that the raising of Lazaraus prefigured Christ’s resurrection. The sacrificium Isti sunt dies quos, discussed in Chapter  3, reworks passages from Leviticus to remind the congregation that in eight days they will gather palms for Palm Sunday, with the Easter Vigil to follow. On In carnes tollendas, the Sunday before Lent, Multiplicavit uses Old Testament typologies to anticipate the entire festival period between Lent and Pentecost, including God’s instructions, in Deuteronomy, to fast for forty days. Here, too, the liturgical surroundings would have clarified the meaning of the chant. The passages related to Moses’s forty-​day fast in this chant were preceded in the liturgy by Elijah’s forty days of desert fasting in the first reading, Jesus’s forty-​day fast in the gospel, and a sermon in which the congregation was admonished to fast. The sacrificium was then followed by the missa prayer, in which the congregation was explicitly urged to follow these three examples of fasting: Moses, Elijah, and Jesus.133 In this case, the sacrificium is so integrated into the liturgy that it was referred to as if it had been a reading. Occasionally we find more specific connections between the sacrificium and the homilies. At the Circumcision festival, the sacrificium Data est lex, 132. London, British Library Add MS 30853. For a list of contents and an edition of the sermons not found elsewhere, see Réginald Grégoire, ed., Les homéliaires du moyen âge; inventaire et analyse des manuscrits (Rome: Herder, 1966), 161–​230. 133. Marius Férotin, ed., Liber mozarabicus sacramentorum (Paris:  Firmin-​ Didot, 1912; reprint Rome: C. L.V. Edizioni liturgiche, 1995), cols. 152–​53.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation taken from the Leviticus commandment to have male children circumcised, complements the readings:  Abraham and Sarah circumcise Isaac in the first reading, and Jesus serves as the “minister of the circumcision” in the epistle, and then is circumcised in the gospel. The anonymous sermon, unique to the Toledo homiliary, focuses on the gospel reading and the Christian, moral meaning of circumcision.The offerings of a pair of turtledoves and pigeons are recast in terms of the chaste joining of body and spirit. Moreover, the homilist rails against literal circumcision, associating it with paganism. In this way, Christian identity and practice were defined against both Jewish and pagan practices.134 Attentive listeners would be positioned to hear the sacrificium, which incorporates the passage about turtledoves and pigeons, with these interpretations in mind. In the liturgical context, then, the sacrificium contributed to the shaping of the moral, Christian self. When sung in tandem with the other liturgical elements, moreover, the meanings of some sacrificia texts and their relation to Christian formation would probably have been abundantly clear to the gathered congregation. The handful of sacrificia derived from readings for the day, also connected to the sermons, provided even more opportunity for reinforcement.135 The reiteration of Stephen’s martyrdom in Elegerunt, for example, would take on new shades of meaning following a sermon in which Stephen is held up as a model for loving one’s enemies. Similarly, Haec dicit . . formans te, for the Iberian protomartyr Vincent of Saragossa, draws its text in part from Isaiah 42:2, “if you walk through fire, you will not burn,” recalling the story of Vincent’s martyrdom, which had been told in the sermon’s words from Augustine.136 In this sermon, the congregation was reminded of the virtue of Christian patience that comes from God, and that no one can perish who has been redeemed by Christ’s blood. In identifying themselves with the saint’s struggle, they may also have heard themselves in the other words of the sacrificium for that day, such as “you will sprout among the grasses like willow among flowing waters.” Some of the sacrificia, then, contributed straightforwardly to the formation of the Christian self, helping to explicate the meaning of the feasts, admonish the congregation to fast, and remind them of the time in the liturgical year.

134. Grégoire, ed., Les homéliaires du moyen âge, 197–​99. 135. These were heard on Palm Sunday, Holy Thursday, Easter, Pentecost, Stephen, John the Baptist, and Peter and Paul. 136. The sermon for this day is excerpted from Augustine’s Sermon 274. Grégoire, ed., Les homéliaires du moyen âge, 164.

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Maundy Thursday: Preaching on the Sacrificial Typology The two sermons for Holy Thursday address the specific typologies that were fundamental to the sacrificia, indicating that they were meant to be taught explicitly to the laity on at least one annual occasion. The Holy Thursday sermon in the main part of the homiliary begins by describing the institution of the Eucharist, then touches on the theme of Melchisedek’s offering as a type for the Eucharist.137 (This is the source for a sacrificium sung elsewhere in the liturgical year, Melchisedec rex.) Notably, the sermon echoes language and rhetorical strategies familiar from the anti-​Jewish works of Isidore and his patristic predecessors, suggesting that they were considered important enough to be conveyed to laity. Reminiscent of Isidore’s De fide catholica, the author cites Old Testament passages that condemn sacrifices made in sin, as evidence that the animal sacrifices of the Jews were not acceptable to God. In explaining that Christ is the sacrificial lamb prefigured at Passover (a typology invoked in many sacrificia following Easter), he contrasts the “carnal” Jewish practice with the “spiritual” Christian one, a common trope.138 Finally, he turns to Exodus 19, which served both as a reading in the first Holy Thursday mass and as the source for the sacrificium Aedificavit Moyses altare, sung at the second mass. In this reading, God instructs Moses to prepare the people, then appears to them amid thunder and lightning. The use of Exodus 19 in this Eucharistic context may derive from Origen, who had connected God’s instructions for the people to prepare by purifying themselves and washing their clothes to approaching the Eucharist with a holy body and spirit.139 After citing this passage of Origen, the sermon contrasts the frightful appearance of God in the Old Testament with the Eucharist: “And that place was to be feared, in which the majesty of God appeared, yet this place is not all to be feared, in which Christ is offered. . . . There, divinity was heard, yet here it is touched.”140 Hearing this sermon, attentive lay congregants understood that the sacrifices of the Old Testament, recounted through chant on this day and many times throughout the year, had been supplanted by the Eucharist, and that they became part of this salvation history through their participation in the Eucharist. As the temporal bridge between the liturgy of the word and the Eucharist, the sacrificium played a fundamental role in conveying this understanding. 137. The sermon is edited in Germain Morin, “Un nouveau recueil inédit d’homélies de S. Césaire d’Arles,” Revue Bénédictine 16 (1899): 241–​60; 289–​305; and 337–​44; at 342–​44. See the brief discussion in Chase, The Homiliae Toletanae,  79–​81. 138. See, inter alia, Wolfram Drews, The Unknown Neighbour, 139–​42. 139. Origen, Exodus Homily XI, Homilien zum Hexateuch in Rufins Übersetzung, ed.W. A. Baehrens, 260–​61. 140. Morin, “Un nouveau recueil inédit,” 343.

Liturgy, Patristic Learning, and Christian Formation

Conclusion The Old Hispanic liturgical texts, including chant, were products of a rich culture of textual production carried out by bishops in sixth-​and seventh-​century Iberia, with the goal of Christian education and formation. Viewing the Old Hispanic chant as part of this culture explains many of its distinctive characteristics, including the exegetical texts that informed its creation and the purpose behind the reworking of scripture. Although few clergy experienced the kind of intellectual formation envisaged in the bishops’ written work, the effort to teach doctrine to clergy and laity did not stop with textual production. Rather, it was meant to be enacted in the daily offices said by the clergy and in the masses attended by laity on Sundays and major festivals, providing a means for continued development. Reading and preaching facilitated the understanding of these chants, and the chants played a central role in conveying the liturgical message of each Sunday and festival. Along with prayer, reading, and preaching, the chant was meant to shape Christian souls. In the Visigothic context, moreover, Christianization worked toward creating a Gothic society unified in Nicene belief. In these ways, liturgy played a foundational role in the Visigothic cultural project. In the next chapter, I turn to a more a specific illustration of how chant did so.

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From Scripture to Chant Biblical Exegesis and Communal Identity in the Sacrificia Animal sacrifices were offered because they prefigured the true sacrifice, that is, the body and blood of Christ. The truth arrived, shadows ceased; the true sacrifice came, and animal sacrifices ceased. For everything you read in the Old Testament you should understand spiritually, however much it actually happened, and gather the truth of history from a spiritual understanding of the fault.1 —​Leander of Seville to Florentina, in De institutione virginum et de contemptu mundi I would prefer that our pursuit concern questions to be interpreted allegorically and understood mystically, and in the affirmation of the Old Testament in the New, rather than that our investigation should remain on the surface of history . . . because one takes precedence in time, the other in rank.2 —​Braulio of Saragossa to Fructuosus of Braga

1. “Sacrificia certe idcirco pecodum litabantur, quia verum sacrificium, hoc est, Christi corpus et sanguinem figurabant. Venit veritas, umbra discessit; venit verum sacrificium, et cessavit hostia pecodum. . . . Omne enim quod in Veteri Testamento legeris, quamvis opere gestum fuerit, spiritualiter tamen intellege, et historiae veritate intellege de spiritali sensu culpae.” Julio Campos Ruiz, ed., Reglas monásticas de la España visigoda: Los tres libros de las “Sentencias” (Madrid: Biblioteca de Autores Cristianos, 1971), 54–​55. 2. “Mallem tamen ut, de allegorizandis questionibus et mistice intellegendis, et Veteris Instrumenti in Nobi adfirmatione exercitatio nostra esset, quam in istorie superficie inquisitio nostra constaret  .  .  .  quia illut precedit tempore, istud dignitatem.” José Madoz, ed. Epistolario de San Braulio de Zaragoza. Edición Crítica según El Códice 22 del Archivo Capitular de León, con una Introducción Histórica y Comentario (Madrid: Madrid Aldecoa, 1941), 203. Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

From Scripture to Chant

A

detailed look at scriptural reworking in selected sacrificia can show how chant advanced the Iberian bishops’ goals of Christian formation, the teaching of doctrine, and creating a society that cohered in the Nicene faith. A distinctive feature of the Old Hispanic chant is the proportion of texts derived from biblical books other than the psalms. A typical Franco-​Roman (“Gregorian”) mass proper chant is based on a short passage or two from the Psalms, with small adjustments and rearrangements that adapt it to a musical setting.3 In the Old Hispanic tradition, by contrast, the majority of chants are nonpsalmic. In most of these chants, moreover, scriptural passages are excerpted from their original context, rearranged and repurposed. Many sacrificia are in essence new textual compositions. Although these nonpsalmic biblical centos may be found in the Franco-​Roman mass proper,4 there they constitute only a small portion of chants. In the Old Hispanic repertory, they are the norm. I argue here that this kind of chant was preferred on the Iberian Peninsula because it served the bishops’ aims of shaping a society united in Nicene belief. Close readings of these chants can, in turn, yield insight into how the elite members of Visigothic ecclesiastical culture used, understood, and experienced scripture. As we saw in Chapter 2, Christian education and formation were central to the cultural and spiritual renewal initiated by bishops after the Visigothic rulers converted to Nicene Christianity.The chant texts arose from a culture of textual production in which patristic teaching was distilled for pedagogical use, in order to teach biblical exegesis, doctrine, and moral living. The reworking of scripture in the sacrificia served a similar purpose. Fashioned through the same patristic traditions as Isidore’s exegetical works, the transformed biblical texts sung at the offertory were a commentary both on scripture and on the liturgy. Together, the sacrificium, the offertory rite, and the Eucharist enacted the shift from Old Testament types of animal sacrifice to their fulfillment in Christ’s sacrifice. In its teaching role, this performative reworking of scripture, presumably heard by congregants each Sunday in major liturgical centers, reached a wider audience than the exegetical texts did. In their pastoral function, the sacrificia often reinforced the content of readings and sermons, reminding congregants of the times of the liturgical year, admonishing them to fast, or exhorting them to rejoice. In these ways, the chant served both to educate and to shape Christian souls. The chant texts represent the bishops’ effort to put the educational program into practice, with a broader reach than the normative theological texts 3. James McKinnon, The Advent Project: The Later-​Seventh-​Century Creation of the Roman Mass Proper (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), especially 13–​14, 103–​4. 4. Inter alia, Petrus Pietschmann,“Die Nicht dem Psalter entnommenen Meßgesangstücke auf ohre Textgestalt untersucht,” Jahrbuch für Liturgiewissenschaft 12 (1932): 87–​144; Kenneth Levy, “Toledo, Rome, and the Legacy of Gaul,” Early Music History 4 (1984): 44–​99.

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Songs of Sacrifice would suggest. The chant also played a larger societal role. The delineation of clear boundaries between Christian and Jewish practice was a central focus of the sacrificium texts. Connections to contemporaneous anti-​Jewish discourse, prominent in the works of the Iberian bishops, link these chants to broader anxieties about the persistence of Jewish practice, which was antithetical to a Nicene,Visigothic identity.

Reworking Scripture To show how chant connected to Visigothic textual production and to the cultural project more broadly, some detailed analysis is warranted. The examples to be examined illustrate how the choice, omission, and reworking of scripture contributed to Christian education and formation, focusing particularly on semantic changes to the biblical source. Not all these changes, of course, relate directly to cultural renewal or to the shaping of identity. Some were made simply to frame the scriptural passages, clarify their literal meaning, or adapt them to liturgical use. Even these kinds of changes make scripture present for the gathered congregation, contributing to the formation of the self and community. More substantial changes that express, heighten, or illuminate the Christian meaning of the Old Testament also function as ­exegesis, and these, I will argue, served a particular cultural role in the Visigothic context.5

Methodological Questions: Vetus Latina and Vulgate To identify transformations of the biblical source, we must look beyond the Vulgate to the surviving texts of the Vetus Latina.6 As noted in Chapter 1, almost a third of the repertory is based on various VL traditions. This textual variety has the potential to complicate an analysis of the texts: what may appear to be a biblical paraphrase of the Vulgate might in fact be a unique witness to a VL tradition. How can we know? When a text has the same meaning as the Vulgate 5. Although a detailed examination is outside the scope of this chapter, it is worth noting that the idiosyncratic Latin observed by Juan Gil in some of L8’s texts also applies to the sacrificia. Gil notes examples of vulgarisms, plenonasms, “learned expressions,” and a general “absence of a linguistic norm.” In particular, some of the sacrificia contain examples of ellipsis that require the reader to supply text.The meaning of the text is nonetheless usually clear. See Juan Gil, “El latín del antifonario de León,” in El Canto Mozárabe y Su Entorno: Estudios sobre la Música de la Liturgía Viejo Hispánica (Madrid:  Sociedad Española de Musicología, 2013), 357–​404. 6. For an introduction to the VL, see Chapter 1, pp. 40–41.

From Scripture to Chant Table 3.1  Stans sacerdos, section I Chant text

Translation

Ecclesiasticus 50: 13–​15a

Translation

Stans sacerdos ad altare in circuitu eius corona fratrum quasi germen cedorum in Libano circumdederunt eum sicut arbores palmarum et obtulit oblationem domino in conspectu universe ecclesiae alleluia

The priest standing at the altar around him a garland of brothers as a seed of cedars in Lebanon surrounded him like palm trees, and he offered an oblation to the Lord in the sight of the whole church, alleluia.

in accipiendo autem partes de manu sacerdotum et ipse stans iuxta aram circa illum corona fratrum quasi plantatio cedri in monte Libano sic circa illum steterunt quasi rami palmae et omnes filii Aaron in gloria sua oblatio autem Domini in manibus ipsorum coram omni synagoga Israhel

And in receiving the portions from the hands of the priests, he standing by the altar, around him a garland of brothers as the cedar planted on mount Lebanon, so they surrounded him like palm branches, and all the sons of Aaron in their glory. And the oblation of the Lord was in their hands, before all the congregation of Israel.

 Francis Aidan Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra: iuxta latinam vulgatam versionem, vol. 12 (Rome: Liberaria Editrice Vaticanam 1987), 365. a

but contains differences in wording not found in surviving VL texts, it is not possible to distinguish it from a biblical paraphrase. The first section of Stans sacerdos (Table 3.1), for example, consists of many phrases, shown in italics, that are identical in meaning to the Vulgate, but worded differently.7 Most of these wordings are not found elsewhere, raising the probability that they derive from an unknown VL text. In Stans sacerdos, however, we can also identify likely modifications to scripture, indicated in boldface. In the original text, “ipse,” the subject of the sentence, refers to Simon, who stands before the altar and receives portions from the hands of priests. In the chant opening, “sacerdos” becomes the subject, recasting the text to refer to the liturgical present. In another adaptation to the Eucharistic context, the biblical “the oblation of the Lord was in their hands” is reworded so that the priest offers an oblation to the Lord. In contrast to the differences of vocabulary, these variants transform the meaning of the original text, making it more suited to the offertory of the mass. At the end

7. “In circuitu eius” matches a citation from Isidore, his description of the choruses in De ecclesiasticis officiis, but the other wordings are not found in any of the texts collated in the Vetus Latina Database.

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Songs of Sacrifice of the chant, the biblical “omni synagoga” reads “universae ecclesiae,” a variant not matched in any known VL version. Given the role of the synagogue in the anti-​Jewish rhetoric of the Visigothic church, it, too, is probably a modification of the biblical source.8 In the analytical case studies that follow, I give primacy to changes in meaning that point to a deliberate reworking of scripture. Many of these involve semantic differences of a kind that are rare in comparisons of the Vulgate and VL.

Adapting Scripture for the Liturgy The primary framework for interpreting scripture within the liturgy was the church year, in which each festival represented an event in the life of Christ or of the church. Through the enactment of these stories in the liturgy, congregants came to see their own place in them.9 The choice of Old Testament passages to be read and sung on specific festivals was a claim that an Old Testament prophecy or type was fulfilled in Christ and the church. The chant texts modeled and enacted this exegesis for those present. Through reworking scripture, the Iberian liturgists created a distinctively Christian experience of the Old Testament, fusing prophecy with the present. The sacrificia sung during Advent exemplify this Christian recasting of prophecy. Alterations to the biblical source strengthen and clarify the message that the prophecies were fulfilled in Christ’s birth. In Venient ad te (Advent IV), for example, section I ends with the words “you will not be forsaken.” In the primary source for this chant, Isaiah 60, the image of being forsaken occurs only once: “Because you were forsaken and hated, and there were none who passed through you, I will place you in everlasting honor” (Isaiah 60:15). The chant’s words “you will not be forsaken” are thus inspired by this biblical passage, but with a semantic change that encapsulates its prophetic message. The compilers of Ecce ostendit (Table 3.2) created thematic unity through rewording, verbal repetition, and incorporating bits of scripture that are not in the primary source of the chant. Though a connection to Zechariah

8. For Isidore, the synagogue is associated with the devil and the crucifixion of Christ. See, for example, Allegoriae 51 and 81; PL 83, columns 108 and 112; discussion in Drews, Unknown Neighbour, 179. As Raúl González Salinero has shown, however, this rhetoric had a much wider reach on the Iberian Peninsula. See “Judíos sin sinagoga en la Hispania tardorromana y visigoda,” in Marginados sociales y religiosos en La Hispania tardorromana y visigoda (Madrid: Signifer libros, 2013), 193–​219. The synagogue is allowed to stand once in the sacrificia, but as a negative image describing persecution (Matthew 10:17–​18) in Locutus est. . . ecce ego. 9. Derek Krueger, Liturgical Subjects: Christian Ritual, Biblical Narrative, and the Formation of the Self in Byzantium (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014), 67–​105.

From Scripture to Chant Table 3.2  Ecce ostendit, Sacrificium for the Second Sunday of Advent (boldface indicates substantive changes from scripture. [ . . . ] in column 3 indicates omissions from the scriptural source) Chant text

Chant text

Zechariah 3:1, 6–​7 (Vulgate)a

Zechariah

[1]‌ Ecce ostendit mihi angelus Ihesum sacerdotem magnum stantem ante faciem domini et angelus domini loquebatur ad eum

Behold, the angel showed me Jesus the high priest standing before the face of the Lord, and the angel of the Lord was speaking to him

3:1 Et ostendit mihi Iesum sacerdotem magnum stantem coram

And the Lord showed me Jesus the high priest standing before

dicens Tu conservabis populum meum et custodies eum usque in eternum alleluia alleluia

saying: You will keep my people and guard them to eternity, alleluia alleluia

II Alleluia Loquutus est angelus Zaccarie dicens revertar ad Iherusalem in misericordia et domus mea restaurabitur et affluent civitates me bonis et multiplicabo populum suum [Jeremiah 30:9] et salvabo eum

Alleluia, the Lord spoke to Zachariah saying, return to Jerusalem in mercy and my house will be restored. And the cities will flow with good things and I will multiply her people and save them

angelo Domini et Satan stabat a dextris eius ut adversaretur ei 3:6–​7

the angel of the Lord: and Satan stood on his right hand to be his adversary. And the angel of Et contestabatur the Lord was calling angelus Jesus to witness, Domini Iesum saying dicens . . . If you will walk si in viis meis in my ways, and ambulaveris et keep my charge, custodiam meam you also will judge custodieris tu my house, and will quoque iudicabis keep my courts, and domum meam et custodies atria mea et I will give to you dabo tibi ambulantes from among those de his qui nunc hic who are now here walking with you. adsistunt Zechariah 1:16–​17 propterea haec dicit Dominus revertar ad Hierusalem in misericordiis domus mea aedificabitur in ea . . . affluent civitates meae bonis et consolabitur Dominus adhuc Sion et eliget adhuc Hierusalem

Therefore thus says the Lord: I will return to Jerusalem in mercies: my house shall be built in her My cities shall flow with good things: and Sion will be comforted, and he will choose Jerusalem.

(repetendum: usque) (continued )

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Songs of Sacrifice Table 3.2 Continued Chant text

Chant text

III Alleluia Haec dicit dominus exercituum Vocabitur Iherusalem civitas deitatis et mons domini vocabitur sanctus

Alleluia Thus says the Lord of hosts Jerusalem will be called the city of the deity and the mountain of the Lord will be called holy

et salvabo populum meum de terra orientis et occidentis et

and I will save my people from east to west

ero illis in deum et ipsi populus meus nunc vero vinea dabit fructum suum et terra germen suum et eritis michi in benedictionem. [repetendum: usque]

And I will be their God and they will be my people But now the vine will bear its fruit And the earth its seed and you will be a blessing for me

Zechariah 3:1, 6–​7 (Vulgate)a Zechariah 8:3, 7, 8, 12, and 13: haec dicit Dominus exercituum . . . et vocabitur Hierusalem civitas veritatis et mons Domini exercituum mons sanctificatus salvabo populum meum de terra orientis et de terra occasus solis . . . et erunt mihi in populum et ego ero eis in Deum . . . erit vinea dabit fructum suum et terra dabit germen suum . . . et eritis benedictio

Zechariah

Thus says the Lord of hosts and Jerusalem will be called the city of truth and the mountain of the Lord of hosts, sanctified mountain. I will save my people from the land of the east and from the setting of the sun And they will be my people and I will be their God And the vine will yield its fruit and the earth will give its seed And you will be a blessing

 Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 17, 229–​30; 226–​71; 240–​41.

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is evident throughout, Ecce ostendit rarely quotes its source directly.10 Semantic changes, for example, occur at the endings of sections I and II. Section I, a probable paraphrase of Zechariah 3:7, simplifies the original text and conveys the core of its meaning. The biblical “if you will walk in my ways and keep my charge, you also will judge my house and keep my courts” becomes “you will keep my people and guard them to eternity.” In creating the new text, the chant’s compilers draw in part on the intertextual nature of scripture, invoking their listeners’ memories of scripture’s 10. Although the Vulgate version is included in the table, certain variants in wording from the Vulgate, particularly in Zechariah 8:7 and 8:8, suggest that the text is derived from a version of the VL. That source was not possible to identify.

From Scripture to Chant other salvific promises. For example, the final clause of section I, “usque in aeternum” (to eternity), formed the repetendum of the chant that was sung after each section, reinforcing the message of fulfilled prophecy. These words, however, are not from Zechariah. Rather, they occur in Psalm 88:5 and elsewhere in scripture. Further, although the preceding passage of the chant, “you will keep my people and guard them,” is a rewording of Zechariah, it also recalls Matthew 1:21, “for he shall save his people from their sins,” a passage frequently heard in the Advent liturgies.11 This change links Zechariah’s prophecy, the main source for the chant, to its New Testament fulfillment. Section II of the chant then closes with an echo of this idea, “I will multiply her people and save them,” words reminiscent of Jeremiah 30:9, “I will multiply my people.” In these ways, the compilers created a new text that departs from Zechariah in the literal sense, but enhanced its prophetic message for their Christian audience. The changes to Zechariah’s literal text create a cohesive focus on the salvation theme through verbal repetition, sometimes at parallel points in the chant’s structure. As shown, Zechariah’s prophecy of God’s salvation is made more direct through changes to the biblical source at the ends of sections I and II. The theme then reemerges in two direct quotations from Zechariah in ­section III: “I will save my people from the east to west,” and “I will be their God and they will be my people.” The chant thus has three statements of God’s salvific promise, two of which are created through departures from the ad verbum quotation of scripture. God’s people, “populum meum,” are invoked four times, twice through text that is not from Zechariah. We can view the reworking of scripture in Ecce ostendit, typical of the genre, from several perspectives. First, the multiple restatements of the same idea, stressing the salvation imagery that is so central to Advent, echo the rhetorical techniques found in the prayers of the Old Hispanic rite.12 The text’s rhetorical effect is created in part through incorporating scriptural passages that are not in the primary source text. Throughout the repertory, such inserted text serves a variety of roles. In Haec dicit . . . formans te, for example, it enhances the text’s drama. Adapted passages from Isaiah 44, reworded to the second person, form God’s direct address to Vincent of Saragossa during his martyrdom. This voice is then strengthened with the addition of phrases that are not in Isaiah 44: “be strong in me,” and “I will help you, do not fear.” Passages of added or 11. “Ipse enim salvum faciet populum suum a peccatis eorum.” In some VL versions, the passage is closer in wording to these reworkings of Zechariah:  “salvabit populum suum.” Vetus Latina Database, Bildnummer 1, 5, etc. 12. Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “Literary Aspects of the Visigothic Liturgy,” in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. James Edward (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 61–​76 at 68–​71; Eleonora Dell’Elicine, “Discurso, gesto, y comunicación en la liturgia visigoda (589–​711),” Bulletin du Centre d’études médiévales d’Auxerre 2 (2008): 1–​23.

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Songs of Sacrifice transformed text can also provide a closing summary to a narrative or dialogue, as in Sanctificavit (Table 3.4), whose closing text, “for I am God, showing miracles on the earth,” is inspired by the source text but does not seem to be taken directly from it.13 The repetition of words and ideas in Ecce ostendit, derived from various passages of scripture, also reminds us of meditatio, the memorization and internalization of scripture that lies at heart of monastic reading. As shown in Chapter 2, Isidore transmits this tradition in Sententiae, his manual for Christian practice, and he incorporates a similar meditative repetition into his Synonyma, a work that had a direct influence on parts of the chant repertory.14 It seems likely that the creators of these chant texts, as members of the church’s intellectual elite, practiced meditatio. Their reading of Zechariah would have brought to mind memorized passages of scripture that stated its promises of salvation more directly. These were incorporated into the chant text, glossing and interpreting the Zechariah passages and forming a biblical cento focused on the central theme of Advent. For listeners steeped in meditatio, the new text would, in turn, have cued memories of other internalized, Advent-​themed passages of scripture. In this respect, Ecce ostendit exemplifies the complexity of the relationship between the Old Hispanic liturgical texts and the exegetical traditions on which they are based. In the liturgy, scripture is often used in ways that do not directly follow these traditions, verse-​by-​verse. Instead, scripture is repurposed toward a liturgically specific exegesis.15 Zechariah’s Jesus as a prophecy of Christ, for example, rests on an established precedent that is most fully articulated in Augustine’s Contra Faustum, a principal source for Isidore’s Mysticorum expositiones.16 Written to counter the Manicheans’ rejection of the Old Testament, Contra Faustum aimed to show that the Old Testament prophecies were fulfilled in Christ, giving fuller expression to the principle inherent in the New Testament. In the Advent chants, however, the use of Zechariah is not guided in a slavish way by this tradition. In a passage cited by Isidore, for example, Augustine interprets Zechariah 3:1, the source for the opening of Ecce ostendit, as a prophecy of Christ’s temptation and the church’s battle with her adversaries.17 In Ecce ostendit, by contrast, this passage is refashioned for Advent, drawing broadly on the exegesis that connects Zechariah’s Jesus to Christ, but omitting the passage about Satan as adversary, on which the temptation 13. This text, “quia ego sum deus ostendens mirabilia in terra,” is similar to Exodus 34:10 in the VL version used as the source for the chant, “quia mirabilis sunt qua ego faciam tibi.” 14. See Chapter 2, pp. 44–45. 15. For another example, see Margot Fassler, “Mary in Seventh-​Century Iberia: The Mass Liturgy of December 18,” in El canto mozárabe y su entorno: Estudios sobre la música de la liturgia viejo hispánica (Madrid: Sociedad española de musicología, 2013), 217–​36; at 231. 16. Augustine, Contra Faustum Manichaeum XII.36, ed. Joseph Zycha, CSEL 25, 363–​64. 17. Augustine, Contra Faustum, XII.36; and Isidore, In libros veteris ac novi testamenti proemia 76; PL 83, col. 173.

From Scripture to Chant interpretation is based. Instead, an excerpt from this opening is repurposed to set up the dialogue at the end of the section, from 3:7, emphasizing the salvation theme. The Advent tailoring of the biblical source is reflected both in how short passages of scripture are chosen and in how they are juxtaposed with other passages. Ingressus est Daniel shows how such juxtapositions can create new meaning. Sections I  and III are shown in Table  3.3a and b.  The opening section (Table 3.3a) takes Daniel 6:10, 8:11, and 3:90 as a starting point, working these passages into a new text that transforms the ad verbum meaning of each. In 6:10, Daniel enters his own house, falls on his knees, and gives thanks to the Lord. In the chant, however, Daniel goes into the house of the Lord and makes a sacrifice, thus connecting the passage to the offertory rite. In the following passage of the chant, taken from 8:11, Daniel’s sacrifice is merged with the Christian Eucharist: he lifts it before the people in the place of sanctification, whereas in the biblical source, the goat’s horn in his vision casts down the place of sanctification. Through this chant, Daniel becomes a priestly figure, fully incorporated into Christian salvation history and the liturgical present. Section III of Ingressus est Daniel (Table 3.3b) provides a particularly vivid illustration of how the literal meaning of scripture can be transformed through the juxtaposition of different passages. The narrative is set up with an abbreviated and paraphrased version of Daniel 12:1 and continues with a partial citation of 12:4, “close the word and seal the book until the appointed time.” In De fide catholica, Isidore uses Michael’s instructions to Daniel, to “close the word,” as a proof text that Jews are excluded from understanding the law of Moses. Although they can grasp the literal sense of scripture, they cannot understand its spiritual meaning, which is dependent on Christ.18 Omitting the biblical “until the appointed time,” the chant compiler has crafted a new text that specifies the appointed time: the arrival of Christ, taken from Chapter 9 of Daniel.The end of the section consists of three short excerpts from Daniel 9:24 and 25. With these modifications, the chant reads, “close the word and seal the book until Christ the head [arrives], and Jersusalem will be built, and the holy of holies will be anointed.” This new text transforms the literal meaning of all three passages, making explicit the anticipation of Christ’s arrival. The Advent texts considered here show how the liturgists created new texts, re-​presenting the Old Testament in the light of its Christian meaning. In drawing on other scriptural books, probably cited from memory, and from a broad tradition of patristic exegesis, the chants’ compilers presented listeners with a 18. De fide catholica II. X.xi. PL 83, col. 529. This biblical passage was similarly interpreted in Cyprian of Carthage, Ad Quirinum I, 4, ed. Robert Weber, CCSL 3, 9. (“Quod scripturas sanctas intellecturi iudaei non essent, intellegi autem haberent in nouissimis temporibus, posteaquam christus uenisset. Item apud danihelum: muni sermones et signa librum usque ad tempus consummationis, quoad discant multi et inpleatur agnitio: quoniam cum fiet dispersio, cognoscent omnia haec.”)

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Songs of Sacrifice Table 3.3a  Ingressus est Daniel, Sacrificium for Fifth Sunday of Advent, Section III Chant text Ingressus est Daniel in domum domini et elebavit sacrificium pro populo in locum sanctificationis eius

dicens benedicite domino et confitemini ei alleluia

Daniel 6:10,Vulgatea Daniel went into the house of the Lord: And he lifted the sacrifice before the people in the place of his sanctification,

saying: bless God and confess to him, alleluia

Quod cum Daniel comperisset id est constitutam legem ingressus est domum suam et fenestris apertis in coenaculo suo contra Hierusalem tribus temporibus in die flectebat genua sua et adorabat confitebaturque coram Deo suo sicut et ante facere consueverat Daniel 8:11

Now when Daniel knew this, that is, that the law was made, he went into his house, and opening the windows in his upper chamber towards Jerusalem, he knelt down three times a day, and adored, and confessed before his God, as he had been accustomed to do before.

et ab eo tulit juge sacrificium, et deiecit locum sanctificationis eius. Daniel 3:90 benedicite omnes religiosi Domino Deo deorum laudate et confitemini quia in omnia saecula misericordia eius

and [the goat’s horn] took away from him the continual sacrifice, and cast down the place of his sanctification. All the faithful bless the Lord the God of gods, praise and confess, for in all ages is his mercy.

 Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 16, 93; 104; 73–​74; 125.

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distinctive, Christian experience of the Old Testament. By making explicit the connections between the prophecy and the coming of Christ, they simultaneously taught the exegesis of scripture and connected it to the liturgical present, through time yet transcending it. The new context stressed that scripture was not merely to be heard by listeners, but also experienced. Past and present become unified in the salvation made possible for each Christian.19 I will argue in Chapter 5 that the melodic rhetoric served a complementary purpose,

19. On typology and “sacred time,” Frances M. Young, Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture (Cambridge; New  York:  Cambridge University Press, 1997), 154–​59. On remembrance and active representation in early Christianity, Carol Harrison, The Art of Listening in the Early Church (Oxford:  Oxford University Press, 2013). On the role

From Scripture to Chant Table 3.3b  Ingressus est Daniel, Sacrificium for Fifth Sunday of Advent, Section I 12: 1 In tempore autem illo consurget Michahel princeps magnus qui stat pro filiis populi tui et veniet tempus quale non fuit ab eo quo gentes esse coeperunt usque ad tempus illud et in tempore illo salvabitur populus ut salventur omnes that all would be saved tuus omnis qui inventus fuerit who are written qui scripti sunt scriptus in the book of life in libro vite respondit mihi angelus the angel responded in libro 12:4 to me: “Daniel, Daniel clude sermonem et close the word and tu autem Danihel clude sermones et seal the book signa librum signa librum usque ad until usque ad tempus statutum 9:24 scito ergo et animadverte ab exitu sermonis ut iterum aedificetur Herusalem usque ad christum Christum ducem et Christ the head ducem ebdomades [comes], septem et ebdomades sexaginta duae erunt et and may Jerusalem rursum aedificabitur hedificetur platea be built Iherusalem et muri in et ungueatur sanctus and the holy of holies be anointed.” angustia temporum sanctorum III.Venit Michael princeps angelorum militie et deprecatus est deum pro filiis Israhel

Michael came to the first of the rank of angels and he entreated God for the sons of Israel

But at that time shall Michael rise, the great prince, who stands for the sons of your people: and a time shall come, such as never was from the time that nations began, until that time. And at that your people will be saved, all who will be found written in the book. But you, Daniel, close the words and seal the book until the appointed time. Know therefore and notice from the going forth of the word, so that Jerusalem is built again, to Christ the head. There will be seven weeks, and sixty-​ two weeks: and the street will be built again, and the walls, in the limits of times.

underlining the textual rhetoric and stressing the same liturgical themes. Finally, reading Ingressus est Daniel in tandem with Isidore’s commentary has revealed connections to the anti-​Jewish discourse that was produced with a particular fervor in seventh-​century Hispania.This aspect of the sacrificium repertory will of remembrance in the liturgy, Robert F. Taft, Beyond East and West:  Problems in Liturgical Understanding (Rome:  Edizioni Orientalia Christiana, Pontifical Oriental Institute, 1997), 161–​86. On liturgy and time more broadly, see Margot Fassler, “The Liturgical Framework of Time and the Representation of History,” in Representing History 900–​1300: Art, Music, History, ed. Robert A. Maxwell (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2010), 149–​72.

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Songs of Sacrifice be explored in depth below, in the section Sacrifice, Old Testament Types, and Anti-​Jewish Discourse.

The Exegetical Shaping of Scripture Some sacrificium texts reflect a deeper engagement with patristic commentaries on particular passages of scripture. As described in Chapter  2, seventh-​century Iberia saw a new focus on the education of clergy through the circulation of patristic texts, often distilled in florilegia. By examining the chants along with patristic texts that were known in Visigothic Hispania, we come as close as we can to understanding why scripture was chosen and arranged in particular ways to form the chant repertory. These commentaries also open a window onto how a chant would ideally have been understood by an educated monk or cleric. While many such assembled commentaries have undoubtedly been lost, those of Isidore often imply very specific reasons for the rearrangement and reworking of scripture. In sections II and III of Sanctificavit Moyses altare (Table 3.4), the compiler of the chant has eschewed the biblical narrative, excerpting short passages from successive chapters of Exodus, reversing their order, and weaving them into a new text. In the biblical story, Exodus 33, Moses goes to the summit of Mount Sinai after the people have worshipped the golden calf, asks for forgiveness, asks to see the face of God, and God refuses. God then gives Moses a series of commandments regarding the observances of the Sabbath and festivals (Exodus 34). In the chant, these two chapters are reversed, creating a different narrative. In section II, the compiler has excerpted two short passages from Exodus 34: Moses’ ascent to the mountain and his prayer for forgiveness. These are repurposed to set up Moses’ conversation with God, taken from Exodus 33, in section III. In a typical example of brevitas, the Sanctificavit Moyses is a cento excerpted from longer passages of scripture. Three of the central images chosen for inclusion in the chant have interrelated meanings in Isidore’s commentary on Exodus: Mount Sinai, the cloud in which God descends, and Moses’ inability to see God’s face. All touch on the question of how God may be seen and known. Isidore’s commentary on this story in Mysticorum expositiones (Table 3.5) stitches together passages that also appear in his own Sententiae, Augustine’s Letter 147, Gregory’s Moralia, and Origen’s Exodus homily.20 In passage 1, Mount Sinai, on which Moses encounters God (Exodus 34:2 and 5), typologically represents the “height of our contemplation, to which we ascend, so that we are lifted up 20. Uitvlugt,“Sources,” 96. In addition to Uitvlugt’s identifications: in passage 6 in Table 3.5, Isidore comments that “some people” say that the Transfiguration was the completion of God’s promise to Moses when he said, “you will see my back parts.” This derives from Origen’s Homily on Exodus 12.The Origen, in Rufinus’s translation, reads,“Vidit enim quae in posterioribus et novissimis diebus facta sunt et gavisus est.” (Homily on Exodus XII, ed. Baehrens, 265.)

From Scripture to Chant Table 3.4  Sanctificavit Moyses altare Sections II and III (Quotidiano) Chant

Translation

II. Loquutus est dominus ad moysen dicens ascende ad me in montem sina stabis super cacumen eius

The Lord spoke to Moses saying Come up to me on Mt. Sinai. You will stand over its peak

Exodus 34: 2, 4–​5, 8–​ Translation 10 Codex Lugdunensis (“Lyon Heptateuch”)a

. . . et ascende in monte Sina, et stabis mihi ibi in cacumine montis. . . . Et mane vigilans Moyses Hearing this, Audiens Ascendit in montem Moses Moyses Sina, went up ascendit sicut constituit ei to the mountain in montem Dominus. . . . where God ubi constituit ei Et descendit ordered him deus dominus in nube, and the Lord et descendit ad eum descended to him et astitit ei ibi, et dominus in nube vocavit nomine in a cloud and et adstitit stood near before Domini. ante faciem eius Et festinans Moses, in his face Seeing this, Moses, terram procidens Videns Moyses adoravit Deum falling down, procidens Et auferes tu peccata adored, saying adoravit dicens et iniquitates nostras, “I beseech you, Obsecro domine et erimus tui. Lord, release sins dimitte peccata from your people” Et dixit dominus populo tuo Et ait ad eum dominus: And the Lord said ad Moysen: Ecce to him, “I will do ego pono tibi Faciam according to your testamentum palam secundum verbum omni populo . . . word” tuum Repetendum: Tunc Moyses fecit sacrificium . . . III. Oravit Moyses dominum et dixit Si inveni gratiam in conspectu tuo, ostende mihi teipsum manifeste ut videam te

Moses prayed to the Lord and said: If I have found favor in your sight, show me yourself clearly so that I see you

Exodus 33:13, 14, 20–​23 Si ergo inveni gratiam in conspectu tuo, ostende mihi te ipsum manifeste, ut videam te . . .

And come up mount Sinai and you will stand before me there on the peak of the mountain And in the morning, Moses, awake, went up to Mount Sinai, as the Lord ordered him And the Lord descended in a cloud, and stood near him there, and he called to the Lord by name. And hastening, Moses, falling down, adored God

And you will take away our sins, and we will be yours And the Lord said to Moses,“Behold I will make an open covenant before all the people . . .”

If I have found favor in your sight, show me yourself to me clearly so that I see you (continued )

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Songs of Sacrifice Table 3.4 Continued Chant

Translation

et loquutus ad eum dominus dicens: non poteris videre faciem meam non enim videbit me homo et vivere potest.

And the Lord said to him: “you will not be able to see my face, for man cannot see me and be able to live

sed esto super altitudinem lapidis

et protegat te dextera mea donec pertranseam quumque transiero auferam manum meam et tunc videbis gloriam meam facies autem mea non videbis Quia ego sum deus ostendens mirabilia in terra Repetendum: tunc Moises

Exodus 34: 2, 4–​5, 8–​ Translation 10 Codex Lugdunensis (“Lyon Heptateuch”)a

Et dixit illi Dominus ... non poteris videre faciem meam: non enim videbit homo faciem meam, et vivet. et dixit Dominus: ecce locus apud me stabis super petram But be on the top of the rock mox autem transierit gloria mea, et ponam te in speluncam petrae, et tegam de And let my right manu mea super te, hand hide you. donec transeam Then I shall pass through and when I have traversed, I will remove my Et auferam manum meam, hand and then you will et tunc videbis posteriora mea; see my glory. My face, however, facies autem mea non videbitur tibi you will not see. Exodus 34:10, excerpt Quia mirabilia sunt For I am God, showing marvelous qua ego faciam things to the earth tibi

And the Lord said to him: “you will not be able to see my face, for man cannot see my face and live” And the Lord said: Behold, the place near me you will stand on the rock Soon, however, my glory will pass and I will place you in the cave of the rock, and I will cover you from my hand over you, then I shall pass by.

And I will remove my hand and then you will see my backside; my face however, will not be visibile to you For marvelous are the things I have done for you

 Ulysse Robert, ed., Heptateuchi partis posterioris versio Latina antiquissima e codice Lugdunensi (Lyon: Librarie de A. Rey, 1900). Accessed in Vetus Latina Database: Bible Versions of the Latin Fathers (Turnhout: Brepols, 2002). a

to consider those things which are beyond our feebleness.” God descends to Moses in a column of cloud, an image Isidore connects to the visibility of God (passage 2) through a quotation from John. In section III of the chant, Moses asks to see God and is told that no one can see the face of God and live. In Isidore’s assembled commentary, “You will not see my face” (Exodus 33:20) means that humans do not fully see the

From Scripture to Chant Table 3.5  From Isidore, Mysticorum expositiones sacramentorum seu questiones in vetus testamentuma Passage 1: CAPUT XXVII. De ascensione Moysis in montem (Source: Gregory, Moralia,V.xxxvi) Successit itaque post haec populus quadragesima septima die egressionis ex Aegypto ad montem Sina, ibique Moyses ascendit ad Dominum, et Dominus ad eum descendit. Mons quippe altitudo contemplationis nostrae est, in qua ascendimus, ut ad ea quae ultra infirmitatem nostram sunt intuenda sublevemur. Sed in hanc Dominus descendit, quia sanctis multum proficientibus parum de se aliquid eorum sensibus aperit. As so after these things had passed, on the 47th day of the Exodus from Egypt, the people approached Mt. Sinai, and there Moses ascended to the Lord, and the Lord descended to him. The mountain, in fact, is the height of our contemplation, to which we ascend, so that we are lifted up to consider those things which are beyond our feebleness. But the Lord descends to [our contemplation], in that, when his saints have made much progress, he discloses a little something of himself to their senses. Passage 2: CAPUT XVIII. De columna ignis, et nube (Source: Augustine, Contra Faustum, XII.xxix) Jam tunc videtur Dominus nocte in columna ignis, et per diem in columna nubis, praecedens populum, et dux itineris factus. Nubes ista praecedens Christus est: idem etiam columna, quia rectus, et firmus, et fulciens infirmitatem nostram. Per noctem lucens, per diem non lucens, ut qui non vident videant, et qui vident caeci fiant (Joan. IX, 39). Just now the Lord is seen at night in a column of fire and in the day in a column of cloud, preceding the people, having become the journey’s guide. That cloud preceding is Christ; the same too the column, because it is upright, and firm, and supports our feebleness. Shining through the night, and not shining through the day, so that “those who see do not see may see, and those who see may become blind.” (John 9:39). Passage 3: CAPUT XLII. Quod Dominus Deus dixit ad Moysen: Posteriora mea videbis. Quod vero petivit Moyses ut claritatem Domini videret, dicens: Si inveni gratiam apud te, ostende mihi te ipsum manifeste. Accepit enim in praesenti congruum responsum quod faciem Domini videre non posset, quam nemo videret, et viveret. (Source: Augustine, Epistle 147) But Moses sought to see the glory of God, saying, “If I have found favor with you, show me yourself palpably.” He received an answer suitable for the present, that he would not be able to see the face of the Lord, which no one would see and live. Passage 4: Quid est ergo Faciem meam videre non poteris, nisi quia quamvis usque ad parilitatem angelicam humana etiam post resurrectionem natura proficiat, et ad contemplandum Deum indefessa consurgat, videre tamen ejus essentiam plene non praevalet? (source: Isidore, Sententiae) Thus, what does “you will not be able to see my face” mean, if not that, however much humanity should progress toward equality with angels after the resurrection, and shall rise unwearied to the contemplation of God, we will nonetheless not be able to see his essence fully? Passage 5: Jam deinde in sequentibus verbis Dei, futuri Christi Ecclesiaeque mysterium figuratum. Gestavit quippe Moyses typum populi Judaeorum in Christum postea credituri. Ideo illi dictum est: Cum transiero, posteriora mea videbis. (Source: Augustine, Epistle 147) (continued )

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Songs of Sacrifice Table 3.5 Continued Thereafter, here in the following words of God, the mystery of the future Christ and the church is fashioned. Moses indeed bore the type of the Jewish people who were to believe in Christ later. Thus it is said to him “when I pass by, you will see my back parts.” Passage 6: Quidam hunc sensum in Evangelio dicunt fuisse completum, cum ascendisset Dominus in montem, quando apparuit Moyses colloquens cum Jesu, et ideo ibi completam aiunt istam promissionem, quam accepit in monte Sina, cum dictum est: Posteriora mea videbis. Vidit ergo posteriora ejus, id est, vidit quae in posterioribus et novissimis facta sunt. (Source: Origen, Exodus Homily 12) Some say that this sense was fulfilled in the gospel, when the Lord had ascended to the mountain, when Moses appeared speaking with Jesus, and thus here they say that this promise was fulfilled, which he received on Mt. Sinai, when it was said: “You will see my backside.”Therefore he saw his backside, that is, he saw that which was to happen in the future and the newest things. Passage 7: Quod autem ait Dominus ad Moysen: Est locus apud me, stabis super petram; et paulo post: Tollam manum meam, et videbis posteriora mea; quia enim ex sola Ecclesia catholica Christus conspicitur, apud se esse locum Dominus perhibet de quo videatur. In petra Moyses ponitur, ut Dei speciem contempletur: quia nisi quis fidei soliditatem tenuerit, divinam praesentiam non agnoscit. De qua soliditate Dominus: Super hanc petram, inquit, aedificabo Ecclesiam meam (Matth. XVI). (Source: Gregory, Moralia, XXXV) But what God said to Moses: “There is a place near me; you will stand on the rock; and a little later: I shall lift up my hand, and you will see my back parts.” For because Christ is looked upon only from within the Catholic church, the Lord ascribes a place near him from which he is to be seen. Moses is placed on a rock to behold the form of God, because unless one holds to the firmness of the faith, he will not recognize the divine presence. Concerning this firmness, the Lord says, “upon this rock I will build my church.”  PL 83, 207–​443.

a

essence of God (passages 3–​4). Isidore further interprets this passage by juxtaposing two different texts, the first from Augustine and the second a probable paraphrase of Origen (passages 5 and 6), as foreshadowing the conversion of the Jews at the end of time, a theme that is also stressed in Isidore’s historical writing.21 The story also prefigures the Transfiguration, where Moses sees the future Christ (passage 6). God’s instructions to Moses to stand on a rock prefigures the Catholic church, the only place where Christ can be seen (passage 7). In the chant, the biblical “you will see my back parts” (Exodus 33:23) instead reads “you will see my glory.” This rewording is taken from an earlier passage of Exodus (33:18, “you will see my glory”), perhaps guided by the typological connection to the Transfiguration, where the disciples see Christ glorified.22 Read together with Isidore’s assembled patristic texts, then, the bits of scripture selected for the second and third sections of Sanctificavit Moyses address how 21. See the discussion below, pp. 99–101. 22. For example, Luke 9:23: Et evigilantes viderunt maiestatem eius.

From Scripture to Chant God may be encountered: in contemplation, but not fully, and only through the Catholic church. It would be tempting to posit that the compiler of the chant text either knew some of the texts collated in Mysticorum expositiones or was familiar with the same exegeses through reading Isidore or a similar compilation. In fact, different passages from Gregory’s Moralia, conveying a similar interpretation of “you will not see my face,” were transmitted in another compilation of patristic sources made in mid-​seventh-​century Hispania: Taio’s Sententiae.23 At the very least, the careful selection of scriptural passages in Sanctificavit points to an understanding of the Exodus chapters that extended beyond the literal to the spiritual. In sum, the scriptural excerpts that constitute the chant had a complex range of meanings in patristic exegesis.Through its careful choice and arrangement of the scriptural passages, the chant text facilitated a typological understanding of the Exodus passage for listeners familiar with some of these meanings.

Sacrifice, Old Testament Types, and Anti-​Jewish Discourse With a prominence that is exceptional among Western liturgies, images of Old Testament sacrifice, priesthood, temple, and festivals pervade the sacrificia throughout the liturgical year. The reworking of scripture in these chants foregrounds their Christian interpretations, clearly separating Christian and Jewish practice. In the following pages, I explore how these chants connect to Visigothic anti-​Jewish discourse, beginning with a consideration of how scripture is reworked in these chants. Among the sacrificial narratives, the use of scripture ranges from nearly direct quotation to extensive repurposing.The stories most central to the typology of sacrifice, Melchisedek’s offering of bread and wine and Abraham’s near-​ sacrifice of Isaac, receive little reworking. When the original biblical narrative involves animal sacrifice, however, these details of the original story are usually omitted and often replaced.24 In Exodus 24, the source for Sanctificavit Moyses, Moses builds an altar and offers calves after receiving the law. In the chant, however, Moses simply makes a “morning sacrifice in a sweet odor.”25 Beginning with Origen, Christian exegetes understood the odor of sacrifice spiritually.26 A type for Christ’s passion in Isidore’s writing,27 it is an appropriate replacement 23. See PL 80, cols. 709–​10. 24. In Chapter 1, Aedificavit noe in Table 1.4 (cols. 7–​8) is an exception. 25. See Table 1.4, cols. 1–​2 in Chapter 1. 26. For example, Origen, Leviticus Homily 4, Homilien zum Hexateuch in Rufins Übersetzung, ed. W. A. Baehrens, 326 and 328; Augustine, Quaestionum in hepateuchum II.127, ed. Donatien De Bruyne and Joseph Fraipont, CCSL 33, 129. Gregory, Moralia in Iob, CCSL 143b, 1804–​5. 27. Mysticorum expositiones, In Leviticum VI. PL 83, col. 323.

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Songs of Sacrifice for the calves, reminiscent of the “divine odor” in Isidore’s description of the offertory.28 Similarly, in Sollemnem habeatis, the calves simply become “fruits of the holocausts.”29 The same occurs in many other sacrificia:  the omission of the animals underlines the allegorical, Christian meaning of these sacrifices.30 A similar purpose underlies the treatment of other biblical details.The temple, for example, appears in many sacrificia as a type for the church, but aspects that do not pertain to Christian practice are omitted or replaced.31 When the principal figure in the sacrifice story lacks a well-​established typological meaning in existing exegesis, he often becomes simply a “priest,” or a “man,” as in Stans sacerdos (Table 3.1). These narratives may then be further removed from their biblical context. Elegit dominus (Table 3.6), for example, begins with the calling of Beseleel to make the tabernacle (Exodus 31:2 and 3), a type for the church. In the chant text, the Beseleel becomes “one man,” appropriate to the chant’s use for saints’ festivals. Although Beseleel does not build an altar in Exodus, the new protagonist does. For this part of the chant, the compiler turns to excerpts from Moses’ building of an altar and sacrifice, Exodus 24:4 (also the source of Sanctificavit’s opening section) and 40. In the new context, the person building the altar and performing this sacrifice is understood not as Moses, but as the saint being celebrated. The sacrificia based on festal themes include some particularly striking examples of scriptural reworking. Sung between Lent and Pentecost, they connect the liturgical year to Old Testament festivals and craft the biblical sources accordingly.32 Most of these typological links stem from standard biblical exegesis. On the Sunday before Lent, for example, Multiplicavit anticipates the coming festal season between Lent and Pentecost: Lent with reference to Moses’ forty-​ day fast, Easter with the Exodus from Egypt, and Pentecost with the Festival of Weeks. Isidore emphasizes each of these links in De ecclesiasticis officiis.33 Hii dies, for the first Sunday in Lent, is based on a passage (Leviticus 23:27) that Isidore cites in relation to a seventh-​month fast, and the chant underlines the same 28. See Chapter 1, pp. 37–39. 29. See Table 1.4, cols. 9–​10, in Chapter 1. 30. Data est lex, for example, is derived from a passage of Leviticus describing the Circumcision rite. The mother’s offering of a lamb, a pigeon, and a turtledove (Leviticus 12:6) is replaced simply with “gifts.” Leviticus 12:6–​7: deferet agnum anniculum in holocaustum et pullum columbae sive turturem pro peccato ad ostium tabernaculi testimonii et tradet sacerdoti qui offeret illa coram Domino” becomes “virgo quae pariet puerum, tollet munera et tradet sacerdoti ut offerat pro ea sacrificium in conspectu domini,” and a similar change occurs in Munera accepta: “Laetificabo eos in domo orationis meae holocausta eorum et victimae eorum placebunt mihi super altari meo quia domus mea domus orationis vocabitur cunctis populis” (Isaiah 56:7) becomes “Munera accepta erunt super altare meum, et domus orationis me honorabitur/​”. 31. See Omnis populus, Table 3.10. Also, Altare aureum and Congregavit David. 32. See Table 1.1, columns 3 and 4, in Chapter 1. 33. Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis officiis I. xxxii, xxxiv, and xxxvii; CCSL 113, 35, 39, 42–​43; see also Etymologiae VI. xvii and xviii.

Table 3.6  Elegit dominus, Section I (St. Cyprian) Chant

Exodus 31:2–​4; 24:4; 35:9; 40:24–​25 (Vulgate)a

31:2 ecce vocavi ex nomine Beselehel filium Uri filii de tribu Iuda from the tribe of Juda Hur de tribu Iuda And filled him with et implevi eum et implevit eum spiritu sapientiae et a spirit of wisdom spiritu dei sapientia and understanding intellegentia et intellegentiae et and knowledge scientiae.b scientia in omni opere  . . .  Rising in the mane surgens et mane consurgens haedificavit altare ad morning he built an altar at the base aedificavit altare ad radice montis radices montis et et posuit timiama of the mountain And placed incense duodecim titulos per duodecim tribus Israhel posuit et altare aureum sub tecto testimonii contra velum 40:25 And burned on it et adolevit super eo Et adolebit super the incense incensum aromatum illut incensum aromatum of sweet odors sicut iusserat Domini 25:9 iuxta omnem according to every iuxta omnem similitudinem similitudinem likeness tabernaculi tabernaculi of the tabernacle of the house of the quod ostendam domus domini tibi et omnium Lord, alleluia alleluia vasorum in cultum eius sicque facietis illud Elegit dominus virum unum

The Lord chose one man

Behold, I have called by name Beseleel the son of Uri the son of Hur of the tribe of Juda, And I have filled him with the spirit of God, with wisdom and understanding, and knowledge in all manner of work. and rising in the morning he built an altar at the foot of the mount, and twelve titles according to the twelve tribes of Israel. He placed an altar of gold under the roof of the testimony, against the veil  . . .  And burned on it the incense of sweet odors, as the Lord had commanded According to every likeness of the tabernacle which I will show you, and of all the vessels for his veneration: and so you shall do it

 Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 2, 240; 201; 205; 292.  “Implevit” and the gentives “sapientiae,” “intellegentiae,” and “scientitae” appear in some of the VL traditions accounted in Gasquet’s edition, designated with ¬. a

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Songs of Sacrifice fasting theme as the sermon for the day.34 In two cases, however, the liturgists extended festal parallels beyond those found in Isidore or in widely transmitted exegetical works. In Isti sunt dies quos, the festival of Tabernacles, with its reference to gathering palms, is reworked to anticipate Palm Sunday, and in Omnis populus, the Hanukkah story is the basis of the sacrificium for Easter Octave. The key effect of the scriptural reworking in these chants is to distinguish Christian festivals from the Jewish ones that lie at their roots. Passages that pertained only to Jewish practice were omitted or replaced. In some chants, the Christian meaning is created primarily through omission. In Multiplicavit, for example, only the parts relevant to Christian practice have been incorporated into the chant.35 In similar fashion, Accepit librum and Aedificavit Moyses altare, sung on Holy Thursday and the preceding day, invoke established allegorical parallels between God’s giving of the law to Moses and the institution of the Christian Eucharist, selecting and tailoring the text appropriately, with only minor semantic changes. In other cases, however, the biblical source is further transformed through additions and modifications. In two chants, parallel passages from Leviticus and Numbers are transformed for very specific liturgical occasions. In Isti sunt dies quos (Table 3.7), references to Passover and the Festival of Unleavened Bread on the fourteenth and fifteenth days of the first month (Leviticus 23) are reworked into an anticipation of the Easter Vigil and Easter Sunday, fourteen and fifteen days from when the chant was sung. “Phase” (Passover) is changed to “pascha,” and the eating of unleavened bread has been replaced with “You will honor the Lord most high.” In section III, a longer passage about the Sabbath on the eighth day and gathering palm branches at the Festival of Booths is abbreviated and recast as Palm Sunday: “on the eighth day to come, take up palm branches.” In pascha domini (Table 3.8), for Monday of Easter Week, transforms the seven-​day period of eating unleavened bread (Numbers 28:17) to refer to the first day of Easter Week. In Sollemnem habeatis (Tuesday of Easter Week, Table 3.9), based on a passage from Numbers 28 parallel to the Leviticus source for Isti sunt dies quos, the passage about Passover on the fourteenth day of the month becomes simply “this solemn day” (28:16), the offering of unleavened bread (28:17), along with the calves, ram, and lamb (28:19), becomes “the fruits of the holocausts” in section I and “my gifts and my fruits” in section II. Similarly, in Omnis populus adoraverunt for the Octave of Easter (Table 3.10), passages of 1 Maccabees describing Hanukkah and the rebuilding of a temple altar are adapted to the church and 34. Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis officiis I.xxxviiii; CCSL 113, 45; Réginald Grégoire, Les homéliaires du moyen âge; inventaire et analyse des manuscrits (Rome: Herder, 1966), 119–​20. 35. The sheep and oxen are omitted from the description of Passover, and the passage describing the Festival of Weeks, a type for Pentecost in De ecclesiasticis officiis, omits the words “of weeks.”

Table 3.7  Isti sunt dies (Fifth Sunday in Lent) Chant

Leviticus 23a

23:4–​6 haec sunt ergo feriae Domini sanctae that you must observe quas celebrare debetis quos debetis custodire temporibus in their seasons temporibus suis suis on the fourteenth day mense primo quartadecima die quartadecima die at evening mensis is the Passover of the ad vesperum Lord pascha ad vesperum and on the fifteenth phaseb domini est [day] of the et in quintadecima Domini est et sollemnity sollemnitatis quintadecima die you shall honor your celebrabitis altissimo mensis huius Lord Most High. deo vestro sollemnitasc azymorum Domini est septem diebus azyma III. comedetis Locutus est Moyses Moses spoke to the 23:34 children of Israel filiis Israhel Loquere filiis saying: dicens Israhel a quintodecimo die mensis huius septimi erunt feriae tabernaculorum septem diebus Domino 23: 39–​40 quintodecimo ergo die mensis septimi quando congregaveritis omnes fructus terrae vestrae celebrabitis ferias Domini septem diebus Isti sunt dies

These are the days

in die octavo venturo on the eighth day to come

die primo et die octavo erit sabbatum id est requies

These thus are the holy days of the Lord that you must celebrate in their seasons In the first month, the fourteenth day of the month at evening, is the Passover of the Lord And on the fifteenth day of this month is the solemnity of the unleavened bread of the Lord. For seven days you shall eat unleavened bread. Say to the children of Israel: From the fifteenth day of this same seventh month, will be the feast of tabernacles, seven days to the Lord. So on the fifteenth day of the seventh month, when you shall have gathered all the fruits of your land, you shall celebrate the feast of the Lord seven days. On the first day and the eighth shall be Sabbath that is a day of rest. (continued )

Table 3.7 Continued Chant summite vobis

ramos palmarum

et exultate in conspectu domini et secundum legem quam vobis precepit

Leviticus 23a take up for yourselves sumetisque vobis die primo fructus arboris pulcherrimae spatulasque palmarum et ramos palm branches ligni densarum frondium et salices de torrente and exult in the sight et laetabimini coram Domino Deo vestro of the Lord and according to the law which he has commanded you

And you shall take for yourself on the first day the fruits of the most beautiful tree, and palm branches, and branches of wood of thick leaves, and willows of the brook And rejoice before the Lord your God.

 Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 2, 450; 455–​56.  “Pascha,” the reading of the chant text, is found in the ninth-​century Spanish Vulgate MS known as the Codex Cavensis (Cava de’Tirreni, Biblioteca della Badia, Ms. memb. I 303). See Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 2, 450. c  “Sollemnitatis,” the reading of the chant text, is found in several V   ulgate manuscripts of diverse origin. See Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 2, 450. a

b

Table 3.8  In pascha domini (Monday of Easter Week) Chant text

In pascha domini erit vobis sollemnitas septem diebus

quarum dies prima venerabilis erit alleluia alleluia

Translation

mense autem primo quartadecima die mensis phase On the Passover of the Lord will be domini erit et quintadecima die for you a sollemnity sollemnitas septem diebus of seven days vescentur azymis. Of which the first will be revered, alleluia alleluia.

 Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 3, 239.

a

Numbers 28:16–​18 (Vulgate)a

quarum dies prima venerabilis et sancta erit omne opus servile non facietis in ea

Translation And in the first month, on the fourteenth day of the month, shall be the Passover of the Lord And on the fifteenth day the solemnity For seven days shall they eat unleavened bread And the first day of them shall be venerable and holy you shall not do any servile work on those [days]

Table 3.9  Sollemnem (Wednesday of Easter Week), Sections I and II Chant text

Numbers 28:16–​19, 24a You shall keep this solemn festival day for the Lord

mense autem primo quartadecima die mensis phase Domini erit et quintadecima die sollemnitas septem diebus vescentur azymis quarum dies prima venerabilis et sancta erit omne opus servile non facietis in ea offeretisque et offeretis septem And you shall incensum diebus fructum offer for seven olocausti days the fruits of holocaustum Domino the holocaust vitulos de armento duos arietem unum agnos anniculos inmaculatos septem  . . .  28:24 ita facietis per singulos dies septem dier um in odorem suavitatis In an odor of in fomitem ignis et domino alleluia sweetness in odorem alleluia. to the Lord, suavissimum Alleluia, alleluia. II Alleluia Locutus est dominus ad Alleluia.The Lord Moysen dicens spoke to Moses, loquere saying: Speak to filiis Israhel the children of Israel saying to dicens ad eos them munera mea my gifts and et fructus meos my fruits 28:24 (fragment) in odorem In an odor of et in odorem suavitatis offere mici sweetness on in diem sollemnem that solemn day suavissimum [repetendum: offeretis] Sollemnem abeatis istum diem festum domino

 Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 3, 239–​40.

a

And in the first month, on the fourteenth day of the month, will be the Passover of the Lord And on the fifteenth day the solemnity For seven days shall they eat unleavened bread Of which first day shall be venerable and holy: you shall not do any servile work on those [days] and you shall offer a burnt sacrifice to the Lord, two calves from the herd, one ram, seven lambs of a year old, without blemish So shall you do each day of the seven days for the food of the fire, and for the sweetest odor

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Songs of Sacrifice Table 3.10  Omnis populus (Easter Octave) Chant text

1 Maccabees 4:55-​57 and 48-​51 (Vulgate)a

Omnis populus adoraverunt dominum, et benedixerunt ei qui prosperum

All the people adored the Lord, and they blessed him who made them prosper

fecit eis et obtulerunt oblationem et sacrificium laudis cum laetitia diebus octo

And they offered an oblation and a sacrifice of praise with joy for eight days,

ornantes faciem templi coronis aureis alleluia alleluia II. alleluia

adorning the front of the temple with gold crowns alleluia alleluia Alleluia

sanctificaverunt sacerdotes atria domus domini, et intulerunt in templo eius candelabrum aureum, altare incensorum vasa sancta

et cecidit omnis populus et adoraverunt et benedixerunt in caelum ei qui prosperavit eis et fecerunt dedicationem altaris diebus octo et obtulerunt holocausta cum laetitia et salutaria laudis et ornaverunt faciem templi coronis aureis 4:48–​51

et aedificaverunt sancta et The priests quae intra domum sanctified intrinsecus et the courts of the aedem Lord’s house et atria and they brought sanctificaverunt into his temple a gold candlestick et fecerunt and the altar of vasa sancta nova et incense intulerunt sacred vessels candelabrum et altare incensorum et mensam in templum et incensum posuerunt super altare et accenderunt lucernas quae super candelabrum erant

et lucebant

And all the people fell and worshipped, and blessed toward heaven, him who had made them prosper. And they kept the dedication of the altar eight days, and they offered holocausts with joy, and sacrifices of praise And they adorned the front of the temple with gold crowns

And they erected the holy places, and the things that were and they sanctified the same [temple] and the courts.

And they made new holy vessels, and brought in the candlestick, and the altar of incense, and the table, into the temple. And they put incense upon the altar, and lighted the lamps that were on the candlestick, and they lighted them in the temple

From Scripture to Chant Table 3.10 Continued Chant text et panes

et obtulerunt sacrificium laudis super altare holocaustorum

in citharis et canticiis

a

1 Maccabees 4:55-​57 and 48-​51 (Vulgate)a and loaves

in templi et posuerunt super mensam panes et adpenderunt vela et consummaverunt omnia opera quae fecerunt . . . And they offered et obtulerunt sacrificium secundum a sacrifice of legem super praise over the altare holocaustorum altar of burnt novum quod offerings fecerunt 13: 51–​52 et intraverunt in ea tertia et vicesima secundi mensis anno centesimo septuagesimo primo cum laude et ramis with citharas palmarum et cinyris and canticles et cymbalis et nablis et hymnis et canticis quia contritus est inimicus magnus ex Israhel et constituit ut omnibus annis agerentur dies hii cum laetitia

And they placed on the table the loaves and hung up the veils, and finished all the works that they had made. And they offered a sacrifice according to the law upon the new altar of burnt offerings that they had made. And they entered into it the 23rd day of the second month, in the year one hundred and seventy-​one, with praise and palm branches, and harps, and cymbals, and psalteries, and hymns, and canticles, because the great enemy was out of Israel. And he ordained that these things should be kept every year with gladness.

 Gasquet, ed., Biblia sacra, vol. 18, 55–​56; 131–​32.

Christian liturgy: the offerings brought are not burnt offerings, but a “sacrifice of praise” (Psalm 49:14 and 23; Psalm 106:22), emphasizing the spiritual quality of the Christian offerings. The festal theme emerges for the last time on the second Sunday after Easter, with Audi Israhel preceptum. Drawing in part on the same biblical passage as Multiplicavit (Deuteronomy 16:1–​7), the Festival of Weeks becomes “the festival of Pascha.” In a few of these chants, the compilers have implicitly created a new or unusual exegesis of scripture. Although the use of the Hanukkah story in Omnis

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Songs of Sacrifice populus adoraverunt (Table 3.10), for example, relies on well-​established typologies that connect the dedication of the temple with the church,36 this is not typically used as a Paschal text. The eight-​day length of Hanukkah, however, creates a thematic link to the day on which the chant was sung, the Octave of Easter, and connects this sacrificium to the others in this festival period, reframing the number of days in the Jewish festivals as references to the liturgical year.37 The eight-​day reference also links the sacrificium to the gospel reading, where Jesus invites Thomas to touch his wounds on the eighth day after the resurrection (John 20:26). Thus, Omnis populus is rooted both in established temple typology and, through a seemingly unique Paschal reading of the story, a liturgically specific exegesis. Why did the liturgists modify scripture in these ways, and how might this have shaped the experience of the liturgy? First and foremost, the reworking of scripture in the sacrificial and festal chants linked the Old Testament to its fulfillment in the Eucharist and the liturgical year, thus enacting traditions of biblical and liturgical exegesis that were known on the Iberian Peninsula. The primary impulse for the biblical reworking is encapsulated in Leander’s words to his sister Florentina (also the dedicatee of Isidore’s De fide catholica): the nuns in her community should understand the Old Testament sacrifices in a way that “gather(s) the truth of history from a spiritual understanding of the fault.”38 The creation of these texts was a form of biblical exegesis in which Christian interpretations of the temple, Passover, and sacrifice—​all “shadows of the truth” in Isidore’s thinking—​are worked into the biblical narrative itself, creating a new text that embodies the unity of the testaments. The texts were also a commentary on the liturgical occasion or action, placing this action within a salvation history that began in the Old Testament and establishing its role as a fulfillment of those types. I would argue, however, that biblical typology could take on a more specific social role in the Visigothic context, where the religious and political were so closely intertwined. Elimination of religious difference was central to the common goal of shaping a Catholic society under the Visigothic kings.39 36. Isidore, De ecclesiasticis officiis I, xxxvi; CCSL 113, 42. 37. Isti sunt dies quos (see Table 3.7), In pascha domini (Table 3.8), and Sollemnem habeatis (Table 3.9). 38. See Chapter 5, note 1. 39. P. D. King, Law and Society in the Visigothic Kingdom (London: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 129; Raúl González Salinero, Las conversiones forzosas de los judíos en el reino visigodo (Rome: Escuela Española de Historia y Arqueología en Roma, 2000), 32; Rachel L. Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom, 589–​633 (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000), 132–​33; Wolfram Drews, “Jews as Pagans? Polemical Definitions of Identity in Visigothic Spain,” Early Medieval Europe 11 (2002): 189–​207; at 205–​7; Wolfram Drews, The Unknown Neighbour:  The Jew in the Thought of Isidore of Seville (Leiden:  Brill,

From Scripture to Chant The typological connections between the Old Testament and Christian festivals and customs—​the primary focus of these chants—​were also invoked in a Visigothic anti-​Jewish discourse that was exceptional in its “sheer bulk and fervor.”40 Isidore’s De fide catholica (614–​15) was the most extensive anti-​ Jewish treatise produced since Tertullian.41 The festivals and sacrifices invoked in the chants are among the customs that Isidore names as rejected in the New Testament:  the Sabbath, circumcision, rites of sacrifice, dietary laws, and festival days.42 Anti-​Jewish rhetoric was also an important component of works produced later in the century, including Taio’s Sententiae (653–​54); Ildefonsus’s De virginitate Sanctae Mariae (between 657 and 667), which served as a liturgical reading on the Marian festival; and Julian of Toledo’s De comprobatione sextae aetatis (686).43 The educated clerics who created and heard these chants would have understood their scriptural sources, at least in part, through this lens. Within the liturgy, the chants’ focus on distinguishing Christian practices from Jewish ones also resonated in the sermons for certain Sundays and festivals. The Holy Thursday sermon included in the main part of the Toledo homiliary, as examined in Chapter 2, develops the same sacrifice and Passover typologies that are prominent in the sacrificia. It does so, in part, through polemic directed at Jews. In tones reminiscent of Isidore’s De fide catholica, the homilist asks, “What can the Jews say in response to this, since he is a priest not according

2006). For a thoughtful critique of Drews, see Rachel L. Stocking, “Early Medieval Christian Identity and Anti-​ Judaism:  The Case of the Visigothic Kingdom,” Religion Compass 2 (2008): 642–​58. See also Jamie Wood, The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain: Religion and Power in the Histories of Isidore of Seville (Leiden: Brill, 2012), 195–​208. I am grateful to Kati Ihnat for discussing these ideas and bibliography with me. 40. Michael Toch,“The Jews in Europe 500–​1050,” in The New Cambridge Medieval History, Volume 1: C. 500–​C. 700, ed. Paul Fouracre (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), 547–​70; at 551. 41. Jeremy Cohen, Living Letters of the Law:  Ideas of the Jew in Medieval Christianity (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1999), 95–​96. 42. For separate sections on the Sabbath, circumcision, sacrifices, and dietary laws, see De fide catholica II, xv–​xviii. PL 83, cols. 524–​28. 43. The anti-​Jewish elements of Julian’s and Ildefonsus’s works, as well as others produced on the Iberian Peninsula, are discussed in the collection La controversia judeocristiana en España (desde los orígenes hasta el siglo XIII), ed. C. Del Valle Rodríguez (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1998). On the anti-​Jewish aspects of Taio’s treatise, Raúl González Salinero, “Preaching and Jews in Late Antique and Visigothic Iberia,” in The Jewish-​Christian Encounter in Medieval Preaching (New York: Routledge, 2015), 23–​58; at 41–​42. On the liturgical reading of Ildefonsus’s treatise during the night office on the Marian festival, Kati Ihnat, “Liturgy against Apostacy: Marian Commemoration and the Jews in Visigothic Iberia,” Early Medieval Europe 25 (2017): 443–​65.

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Songs of Sacrifice to the order of Aaron, who had been a priest among them and whose order they preserved in sacrifices of lambs and cattle, but rather the priest who was foretold to come according to the order of Melchisedek? Let them thus leave behind their victims and recognize that he had already been foretold beforehand according to the order of Melchisedek.”44 Whether the Jews mentioned here were real or “hermeneutical,”45 the sacrifice typology is explicitly tied to anti-​Jewish discourse and conveyed to the laity in this most pastoral part of the liturgy.46 Just as in the chants, the anti-​Jewish rhetoric of the sermon is focused on ritual and practice rather than explicitly on belief. Preaching was a primary tool in discouraging “Judaizing,” thus separating the practices of Christians, especially converted Jews, from Jewish customs.47 While discourse against Judaizing is rooted in early Christian tradition, it would have had a particular resonance in Visigothic society. The liturgy was created against a backdrop of policies that sought not just to separate Christians from Jews, but to eradicate Judaism altogether. In seventh-​century Hispania, the preoccupation with Judaism and Judaizing was articulated not only through theological tracts, but also through law. In the early part of his reign, which began in 612, Sisebut had ordered forced baptisms of all Jews.48 Isidore criticized this policy and presided over the Fourth Council of Toledo (633), where it was censured. Toledo IV, however, also prevented forcibly converted Jews from returning to Judaism and imposed severe legal restrictions and social exclusion on all Jews, whether or not they had become Christians.49 Converted Jews became the primary targets of anti-​Jewish legislation. The Jewish festivals and 44. “Quid respondere Iudaei hoc loco possunt, cum utique non secundum ordinem Aaron, qui apud illos sacerdos fuerat, et cuius tunc ordinem in sacrificiis conservabant, qui hircos et vitulos immolaverunt, sed secundum Melchisedec ordinem praedictus est sacerdos esse venturus. Relinquant ergo victimas suas, et secundum Melchisedec ordinem cognoscant quia iam ante praedixerat.” Germain Morin, “Un nouveau recueil inédit d’homélies de S. Césaire d’Arles,” Revue bénédictine 16 (1899): 342–​43. 45. On the historiography of the hermeneutical Jew in late antiquity, see Franklin Harkins, “Nuancing Augustine’s Hermeneutical Jew:  Allegory and Actual Jews in the Bishop’s Sermons,” Journal for the Study of Judaism 36 (2005): 41–​64. 46. See also the sermon on the Circumcision, Grégoire, Les homéliaires du moyen âge, 197–​ 99; that for the Sunday after the octave of Easter (taken from Jerome’s De Pascha); and the fifth Sunday (Grégoire, Les homéliaires),  206–​7. 47. Raúl González Salinero, “Preaching and Jews in Late Antique and Visigothic Iberia.” 48. As mentioned in Isidore’s History of the Goths. Rodríguez Alonso Cristóbal, Las Historias de los godos, vándalos, y suevos de Isidoro de Sevilla (León: Centro de Estudios e Investigación “San Isidoro,” 1975), 270–​72. Translated Kenneth Baxter Wolf, Conquerors and Chroniclers of Early Medieval Iberia (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2011), 87. See the discussion in, inter alia, González Salinero, Las conversiones forzosas de los judíos,  24–​38. 49. Canons 57–​66, in Vives, Concilios visigóticos, 27–​30; translation in Amnon Lindner, The Jews in the Legal Sources of the Early Middle Ages (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1997), 485–​91.

From Scripture to Chant customs mentioned in the liturgy played an important role in this legislation, as converted Jews were expressly prohibited from observing them. Throughout the seventh century, these injunctions were reiterated with increasingly severe penalties and with a requirement to attend Christian services.50 Although Toledo IV had mandated episcopal teaching as a solution, a law issued in 654 under Recceswinth decreed that repeating violators be stoned or burned to death.51 In the following year, Toledo IX ordered baptized Jews not only to attend major New Testament festivals, but to meet with a priest on Jewish holy days, so that their conversion to the Christian faith could be confirmed.52 A  later version of the royal law, redacted under Erviga in 681, specifies that all converted Jews should attend church on Sundays and holy days, including the Marian festival “on which the conception is celebrated,” Christmas, Circumcision, Holy Week and Easter, the Discovery of the Cross, Ascension, and Pentecost. As the focus on converted Jews suggests, forced baptism was not seen as sufficient to eliminate Jewish practice and identity.53 The laws target practice rather than belief, suggesting that the bishops’ perceptions of Jewish and Christian identity rested there. Should we view the liturgy and chant as a reflection of the same concerns about Judaism? Did the anxieties surrounding converted Jews, in particular, find expression not only in law and theology, but also in the liturgical rituals that helped to shape Visigothic Christian identity? The matter is complicated.While Visigothic theological discourse and law articulated similar stances on Jews, there were nuanced differences of objective and emphasis. Isidore, for example, anticipated the cessation of Jewish practices at the end of time, but it is not

50. Lindner, The Jews in the Legal Sources, 257–​332; 484–​538. These laws are analyzed in numerous places. See especially P. D. King, Law and Society in the Visigothic Kingdom (London: Cambridge University Press, 1972), 129–​44. For a particular focus on the prohibition of festivals and customs, Raúl González Salinero, “Catholic Anti-​Judaism in Visigothic Spain,” in The Visigoths:  Studies in Culture and Society, ed. Alberto Ferreiro (Leiden:  Brill, 1999), 123–​50; at 131–​37. Further analysis: Luis Garcia Iglesias, Los Judíos en la España antigua (Madrid: Cristianidad, 1978), 103–​33. Raúl González Salinero, Las conversiones forzosas de los judíos; Bruno Dumézil, “Juifs et convertis en Espagna wisigothique dans le premier tiers du VIIe siècle,” in Christianos y judíos en contacto en la edad media: polémica, conversión, dinero, y convivencia, ed. Flocel Sabaté and Claude Denjean (Lleida: Editorial Milenio, 2009), 327–​46; and Céline Martin, “La degradación cívica de los judíos libres en el reino Visigodo de Toledo,” in Marginados sociales y religiosos en la Hispania Tardorromana Visigoda (Madrid: Signifer Libros, 2013), 221–​43. 51. Lindner, The Jews in the Legal Sources, 263, 267. 52. Vives, Concilios visigóticos, 305–​6. The concern with Judaizing continues in eighth-​ century Toledo, as expressed in Evantius’s letter to the church at Saragossa. Discussion in Roger Collins, The Arab Conquest of Spain:  710–​797 (Oxford; Cambridge, MA:  Blackwell, 1994),  65–​72. 53. See especially the analysis in Stocking, “Early Medieval Christian Identity,” 642–​58.

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Songs of Sacrifice clear that he envisioned their complete disappearance in his own time, as the laws mandated.54 Competing narratives have thus been proposed to account for the relationship between De fide catholica and Sisebut’s forced baptisms. Some have seen De fide catholica as a “theological manifesto” for the agenda of forced conversion,55 whereas others have viewed Judaism as Isidore’s rhetorical foil for teaching Christian doctrine.56 These factors caution us against making too direct a connection between the liturgy and Visigothic anti-​Jewish policy. Uncertainties about the size and scope of Jewish communities in the seventh century further complicate the question.57 An answer might lie in the social role of De fide catholica and other anti-​Jewish works, which helped to mold the use and understanding of scripture within the liturgy. De fide catholica and other anti-​Jewish rhetoric, including sermons, were not directed toward an audience of practicing Jews, but were intended for the edification of Christians.58 Religious discourse against Judaism was a central tool in forging a Catholic and Gothic identity, particularly after the conversion of the Visigoths, when Jews became the only religious group that was not part of

54. Drews, Unknown Neighbour, 289–​90. 55. Cohen, Living Letters of the Law, 120; Castán Lacoma, “San Isidoro de Sevilla, apologista antijudaico,” in Isidoriana: colección de studios sobre San Isidoro de Sevilla en el XIV de su nacimiento (León: Centro de Estudios “San Isidoro,” 1981), 445–​56; Raúl González Salinero, “Catholic Anti-​Judaism in Visigothic Iberia,” 148–​49. 56. Drews, Unknown Neighbour. Some have stressed Isidore’s opposition to forced conversion, as in Hen, “A Visigothic King in Search of an Identity: Sisebutus Gothorum gloriosissimus princeps,” in Ego Trouble: Authors and Their Identities in the Early Middle Ages (Vienna: Institut für Mittelalterforschung [Österreichische Akademie der Wissenschaften], 2010), 89–​99. 57. In a minority view,Toch has argued that Jews loomed larger in Christian polemic than in society, noting the paucity of written evidence for Jewish culture in the seventh century in “The Jews in Europe 500–​1050,” 550–​51. Archeological evidence for the existence of Jewish communities, however, is described in David Noy, Jewish Inscriptions of Western Europe. Vol. 1: Italy (excluding the city of Rome), Spain, and Gaul (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 238–​62; and Bat-​sheva Albert, “Les communautés juives vues à travers la législation royale et ecclésiastique visigothique et franque,” in Jews in Early Christian Law: Byzantium and the Latin West, 6th–​11th centuries (Turnhout: Brepols, 2014), 179–​93. Many scholars have also taken the laws as evidence for Jewish presence, though aspects of these laws certainly caution against too literal a reading. See Rachel L. Stocking, “Forced Converts, ‘Crypto-​Judaism,’ and Children: Religious Identification in Visigothic Spain,” in Jews in Early Christian Law, 243–​63, as well as the overview and analysis of the question in Stocking, “Early Medieval Christian Identity,” 648–​50. For further evidence for the secret practice of Judaism, see Raúl González Salinero,“The Legal Eradication of the Jewish Literary Legacy in Visigothic Spain,” in Jews in Early Christian Law, 195–​209; at 197–​202. 58. Drews, Unknown Neighbour; Eva María Castro Caridad and Francisco Peña Fernández, Isidoro de Sevilla: sobre la fe católica contra los judíos (Seville: Universidad de Sevilla, 2014), 40–​42; Raúl González Salinero, “Preaching and Jews in Late Antique and Visigothic Iberia,” in The Jewish-​Christian Encounter in Medieval Preaching (New York: Routledge, 2015), 23–​58.

From Scripture to Chant the gens gothorum.59 In Isidore’s thought, theology, history, and contemporaneous politics were inextricably linked through prophecy and typology.60 The treatment of Jews in Isidore’s historical writing thus echoes that of his theological discourse: their passive role in history was to serve as prophecy for Christ, and they were punished for their unbelief.61 Indeed, in Isidore’s Chronicon, the conversion of the Jews marks a culminating point of redemption.62 For Isidore, moreover, the Visigoths were the ultimate defenders of orthodoxy, having replaced the Jews as the chosen people.63 In this belief, Isidore recast Augustine’s six ages of the world so that the sixth age begins with the birth of Christ and the “cessation of the kingship and priesthood of the Jews.”64 Despite Isidore’s opposition to forced conversion, then, the existence of Judaism was antithetical to his tightly interwoven theological and political agendas.65 In reflecting on these connections, it is worth recalling that the inextricable links between church and kingdom were not merely conceptual, but were fundamental to the structure of Visigothic government. Bishops played an important role in the administration of the Visigothic state, and an intertwined “church” and “state” cooperated closely, with kings attending councils and bishops supervising judges.66 The mandatory attendance of converted Jews

59. Drews, Unknown Neighbour, 275–​ 305; Eleonora Dell’Elicine, En el principio fue el verbo: políticas del signo y estrategias del poder eclesiástico en el reino visigodo de Toledo (589–​711) (Cádiz: Universidad de Cádiz, Servicio de Publicaciones, 2013), 166–​80. 60. Wood, Politics of Identity, 193–​209. Walter Pohl and Philipp Dörler, “Isidore and the gens gothorum,” Antiquité Tardive 23 (2015):  133–​41; at 139–​40. On the innovative nature of Isidore’s fusion of sacred and secular, Cohen, Living Letters of the Law, 109–​14. 61. Wood, Politics of Identity, 193–​209. 62. Cohen, Living Letters of the Law, 112; Wood, Politics of Identity, 206–​7; Marc Reydellet, “Les intentions idéologiques et politiques dans la Chronique d’Isidore de Séville,” Mélanges d’archéologie et d’histoire de l’École française de Rome 82 (1970): 363–​400; at 388–​90. 63. Wood, “Religiones and Gentes in Isidore of Seville’s Chronica Maiora.” 64. Cohen, Living Letters of the Law, 110–​13; Wood, Politics of Identity, 121–​28; at 126. 65. For example, the traditional patristic doctrine of Jewish witness, a justification for tolerance of Judaism that claims that Jews exist to prove the truth of Christianity, is deemphasized in Isidore’s works. See Cohen, Living Letters of the Law, 121–​22; and Drews, Unknown Neighbour, 195. 66. Lina Fernández Ortiz de Guinea, “Functiones sociales del cuerpo episcopal en el reino visigodo hispano: Administración de justicia y protección de la comunidad cristiana,” Hispania antiqua 20 (1996):  451–​63; Céline Martin, La géographie du pouvoir dans l’espagne visigothique (Paris:  Septentrion, 2003), 191–​203; Isabel Velázquez Soriano, “Leges in confirmationem concilii:  The Relationship between the Monarchy and the Church in Visigothic Hispania,” Visigothic Symposium 1 (2016): 57–​80; Sam Koon and Jamie Wood, “Unity from Disunity: Law, Rhetoric, and Power in the Visigothic Kingdom,” European Review of History 16 (2009):  793–​808. The varied roles of clergy in judicial proceedings in ninth-​century Northern Iberia are illustrated in Wendy Davies, Windows on Justice in Northern Iberia, 800–​ 1000 (London; New York: Routledge, 2016).

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Songs of Sacrifice at services on major festivals under Recceswinth’s laws suggests that liturgy came to play a reinforcing role in royal anti-​Jewish policy. In 656, two years after these laws were established, the Tenth Council of Toledo mandated the universal celebration of the Marian festival on 18 December.67 Shortly thereafter, Ildefonsus composed De virginitate Sanctae Mariae, which was incorporated into the Marian office as a reading. In a striking departure from liturgical custom, passages of this treatise were addressed directly to Jews, as Kati Ihnat has shown. The Marian office was later specified among the feasts that converted Jews were required to attend, suggesting that Ildefonsus’s treatise was directed, in part, toward a captive audience of converted Jews.68 Given the connections between the liturgy and anti-​Jewish religious discourse and, in turn, the role of that discourse in forging Christian identity, it is reasonable to posit a similar function for the scriptural modifications in the sacrificial and festal chants examined here. The primary role of this reworking, as we have seen, is to delineate clear boundaries between Christian and Jewish practice. From one vantage point, we can see these chants as straightforward examples of patristic biblical typology. In the light of the anti-​Jewish threads that run through Visigothic theology, history writing, and politics, however, it is likely that biblical typology also took on a social function: separating Christians from Jewish practice. This may be why Old Testament festival and sacrifice typology assumes such prominence in these chants. Calendrical festivals of commemoration have played prominent roles in identifying and segregating groups of people.69 As we have seen, Jewish festivals and practices were a particular focus of Visigothic law and conciliar legislation; the latter was conveyed to the laity through preaching. In summary, anti-​Jewish polemic was certainly one vantage point through which educated listeners in Visigothic Iberia would have understood the biblical typologies that underlie the chants. That polemic depended in part on defining Nicene Christianity in terms of what it was not:  Judaism. In contrast to ancient heresies targeted by the fathers, or even the Arianism still vivid in the memories of some, Jews were a contemporaneous presence, “heretics” against whom Christian elites defined themselves and their flock.70 Like De 67. Kati Ihnat, “Mary as Bride in the Old Hispanic Office:  Liturgical and Theological Trends,” Mediaeval Studies 78 (2016): 65–​123; Kati Ihnat, “Orígenes y Desarrollo de La Fiesta Hispánica de La Virgen María,” Anuario de Estudios Medievales 49 (2019): 619–42. 68. Ihnat, “Liturgy against Apostacy;” Ihnat, “Mary as Bride in the Old Hispanic Office: Liturgical and Theological Trends.” 69. Catherine Bell, Ritual: Perspectives and Dimensions (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009), 106–​8; Eviatar Zarubavel, “Easter and Passover: On Calendars and Group Identity,” American Sociological Review 47 (1982): 284–​89. 70. On Jews as heretics, see Céline Martin, “Les juifs visigothiques, un peuple hérétique,” Revue de l’histoire des religions 2 (2017): 312–​35. Raúl Gómez-​Ruiz has posited anti-​Arianism as an explanation for the exceptionally Christological focus of the Old Hispanic liturgy in

From Scripture to Chant fide catholica, however, chant was intended for “internal Christian consumption,”71 reinforcing the teaching instilled through other channels of Christian education and formation. Although liturgy, religious polemic, and anti-​Jewish policy were not always directly linked, they worked together toward the goals of Visigothic cultural renewal and identity formation.

Conclusions The Old Hispanic liturgy emerged from circles of intellectual elites who prioritized unity of belief and the formation of a Gothic, Christian identity through the education of clergy and laity. The liturgists were guided by a particular understanding of Old Testament passages, and they reworked scripture to convey this understanding to listeners. While such recasting of scripture is not unique to Old Hispanic chant, it is more prominent there than in any other extant Western chant repertory, permeating both mass and office. By situating the Old Hispanic chant within the ecclesiastical textual culture that produced it and acknowledging that it was guided by the same aims, we can begin to recognize it as a unique, performative kind of biblical commentary, with broader social and political implications. Its primary objective was to cast the Old Testament in a Christian light, serving the bishops’ goals of orthodox teaching and formation. By creating texts that infused the Old Testament with Christian spiritual understanding, the liturgists put forth interpretations of specific texts as models for how to interpret scripture.The prominence of Old Testament narratives and the ways they are transformed to underline their Christian meaning mirrors the prevalence of anti-​Jewish discourse in these circles. Both contributed to the goals of forming individual Christian souls and a collective identity. The Old Hispanic liturgy and chant can thus open new windows onto the Iberian culture of patristic learning. As noted in Chapter 2, the paucity of Visigothic manuscripts makes it impossible to determine how widely the exegetical works of Isidore and other Iberian bishops circulated, and thus to assess their impact in the seventh century.We do not know how often they were read, and they most likely reflect a normative ideal for Christian education, rather than a social reality.The best place to look for the success of the bishops’ project,

Mozarabics, Hispanics, and the Cross (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2007), 125–​32. While there may indeed be vestiges of this in sixth-​century layers of the liturgy, this explanation is at odds with the aims of the seventh-​century cultural project, in which the Visigoths’ Arian history was evaded in accounts of the past. See Wood, Politics of Identity, 191–​231. In the seventh-​century layers of the liturgy, the Christological focus could also be explained as a reflection of concerns about Judaizing. 71. Toch, “The Jews in Europe,” 548.

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Songs of Sacrifice then, might lie in the liturgy: a practical, performative way of teaching doctrine to both clergy and laity. For further clues to the reception of the chant, we can recall how the reading of scripture was ideally to be approached. In a passage of Sententiae derived from Gregory’s Moralia, Isidore remarks that scriptural understanding is fitted to the capacity of each reader. The historical sense, as the lowest level, was a prerequisite for correct moral interpretation and spiritual understanding.72 Complex chants such as Sanctificavit Moyses thus communicated on different levels simultaneously. The basic typologies that guided the liturgical use of the Old Testament, such as animal sacrifices prefiguring Christ’s sacrifice and Moses as a type of Christ, would have been clear to many listeners. Not only did Isidore’s works provide a model for distilling these meanings to clergy, but they were also part of the liturgy, glossed by the liturgical action and conveyed to laity in a sermon at least once a year.73 On major festivals, as demonstrated in Chapter 2, the sacrificia echo the themes of readings, prayers, and sermons, in a mutually reinforcing relationship. The typological meanings of the sacrificia, then, are likely to have reached some members of the laity, some of the time. When converted Jews were present, these texts would have carried a particular, concrete message for them, echoing legal prohibitions against the observance of Jewish customs. For other Christians who lived in proximity to Jewish communities, the liturgy may have resonated with the legal injunctions against fraternizing with Jews. By contrast, the more abstract meanings that can be gleaned from Isidore’s works about a chant like Sanctificavit, such as Sinai representing the “height of contemplation,” were probably the purview of monastic and clerical elites. Because we cannot hear the Old Hispanic chants, we can be tempted to see them merely as texts and neumes on parchment. As I show in the next chapters, however, these richly typological texts were delivered with melodies that parsed their syntax and highlighted certain images.The melodies helped to convey the underlying messages of the chants and bind them to the narrative of the mass. Together, the chant, offertory rite, and the Eucharist enacted an exegetical narrative in which the Old Testament festivals and sacrifices were supplanted by the culminating sacrifice of history. Through the mass, the chant and liturgical action were fused into a single story of salvation, into which all present, including converted Jews, were incorporated.

72. Sententiae I.18.5; CCSL 111, pp. 62–​63. 73. See Chapter 2, pp. 68–69.

4

The Melodic Language

T

he carefully crafted texts of the Old Hispanic sacrificia are matched by a sophisticated melodic language. Although the Old Hispanic notation does not show pitch, aspects of a complex melodic grammar can be discerned through analysis. The same neume shapes and neume combinations recur throughout the repertory in consistent contexts, allowing us to identify their functions in the melodic syntax. Some, for example, consistently mark the ends of verbal and musical units, serving as cadences, and others serve as openings of phrases. Through illustrating these functions in this chapter, I  show that the melodies are closely tethered to aspects of the Latin text, such as syntax, accent, and word division. I then use this knowledge, in Chapter 5, as a basis for positing that the melodies worked toward a particular experience of the texts and understanding of their meaning.

Formal Characteristics of the Sacrificia Variety is the predominant musical value in the sacrificia. Much like their counterparts in the Franco-​Roman repertory, these chants are individual melodies. Although all sacrificia draw on a common vocabulary of cadential patterns, melisma sections, and strategies for opening phrases, each chant does so in a distinctive way, by combining the standard elements differently and incorporating material that is not discernably formulaic. Each sacrificium is thus uniquely constructed. The primary trait that unifies the genre is a musical form, as exemplified in Venite benedicti (Example 4.1). Nearly all sacrificia consist of between two and four sections, indicated with Roman numerals in the manuscripts (circled in Example  4.1). Each section ends with a return to the closing part of the first section, called the repetendum. Here the repetendum is indicated by the appearance of “alleluia” (or just “alle”) at the end of sections II and III, leading back to the alleluia at the close of the first section. At the end of section IV, the “alleluia” is written out in full. The resulting form resembles the

Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

Example 4.1.  Venite benedicti (L8, 30v)

Key to ­example 4.1 Circles=standard cadences (labeled according to online appendices 2 and 3) 1. Type 2, IV. 21

10. Type 2, IV, 0

19. Type 2,VII. 4a

2. Type 3, XXV. 3b

11. Type 2, XVII

20. Type 2, XVII

3. Type 2, IV. 8

12. Type 2, II.6

21. Type 1, XXIII

4. Type 2, IV. 4e

13. Type 3, XIX.7d

22. Type 2, VIII

5. Type 2, I. 0b

14. Type  4, A.3

23. Type 1, II. 2

6. Type 2, IV. 6

15. Type 1, IV.1

24. Type  1, VI

7. Final cadence,Type 2, IV. 22 16. Type 2, II. 3c

25. Type 1, XI. 1

8. Type 1, XI

17. Type 2, II

26. Type 3, VI. 3b

9. Type 3,VII. 2b

18. Type 1, XIX

27. Type 2, XXV

The Melodic Language verse-​repetendum scheme of the Franco-​Roman offertories.1 The repetendum may also lead back to an earlier point in the first section, and in such cases, it follows sensibly from the preceding text.2 In Venite benedicti, the final section of the chant is the “alleluia” in the left margin, called a “laude,” which is cued at the end of the chant by the rubric “Lde.”3 A concern for a coherent musical transition to the repetendum is sometimes evident in the use of “lead-​ins,” in which the material that preceded the repetendum in section I returns at the end of subsequent sections.4 In Venite benedicti, for example, the material on “mundi” at the end of section I returns at “ab hedis” at the corresponding point in section II (see the boxes labeled 6). Sections III and IV also have identical closing material at “[reg] no dei” and “[veni]stis ad me” (boxes labeled 21). This, too, is a technique familiar from the Franco-​Roman offertories. Aside from the repetenda, the genre has few unifying formal traits. We find both highly repetitive chants and ones with little discernable repetition. Although most sacrificia have some recurring material, it does not occur at prescribed places or result in a set form.5

Analytical Method At first glance, reading and analyzing a chant such as Venite benedicti (Example 1) might seem daunting, given that the beautiful, precisely shaped signs show no pitch. Each, however, does represent a particular melodic shape, in a similar way to other Western chant notations.6 As a general rule, single notes are represented 1. It is unclear whether the performance was responsorial, involving a chorus for the first section and soloists for the subsequent ones. (See the discussion of this question in Chapter 1, p. 23.) For this reason, I have avoided labeling these sections as responds and verses, instead indicating them with Roman numerals, as in the manuscripts. 2. In some sacrificia, each section has a different repetendum, sometimes with a transitional word or phrase such as “dicentes.” 3. See the discussion below, pp. 134–35. 4. The term “lead-​in” is borrowed from Nils Nadeau, “‘Pro sonorum diversitate vel novitate’:  The Singing of Scripture in the Hispano-​ Visigothic Votive Masses” (PhD thesis, Cornell University, 2000), 180–​91. 5. On repetition, see below, pp. 152–56. 6. On the relationship between the Old Hispanic neumes and other chant notations, see, inter alia, Grégoire Maria Suñol, Introduction à la paleographie musicale grégorien (Paris: Société de sainte Jean l’évangéliste, 1935), 311–​52; Michel Huglo, “La notation wisigothique: Est-​elle plus ancienne que les autres notations européens?,” in España en la musica de occidente, ed. José López-​Calo, Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta, and Emilo Casares Rodicio (Madrid: Ministerio de Cultura. Instituto Nacional de las Artes Escénicas y de la Música, 1987), 19–​26. See especially Herminio González Barrionuevo, “Algunos rasgos fundamentales de la notación ‘Mozárabe’ del Norte,” Revista de musicología 20 (1997):  37–​50; and Herminio González

107

108 Songs of Sacrifice by a single stroke, for a low note and for a higher note. In neumes showing more than one pitch, the notes and their positions are usually represented , for example, consists of an initial note, by a change in direction of the pen. a higher note, a lower note, and a higher one, represented by higher and lower positions on the page and the movement between them.7 This script also uses signs indicating pitch repetition, such as and . In the analysis, I represent these contours with the letters N, S, H, L, U, and D. N = unknown with respect to the preceding pitch. S = same as the preceding pitch, H = higher, L = lower. Occasionally, the contour can represent one of two directions. In these cases I have used U to designate “same or higher” and D for “same or lower.”8 The same neume combinations tend to recur in specific contexts throughout the repertory, indicating that they serve particular roles in the melodic syntax. In Venite benedicti (Example 4.1), most of the boxes indicate cadential neume combinations, occurring at syntactical breaks throughout the repertory. In the key to Example 4.1, these are labeled according to an analytical taxonomy laid out below. Although recurring neume combinations may not signal identical pitch content each time, each represents either a single melodic formula or a constellation of formulas with the same contour. Standard material is often discernable within melismas as well. León 8 (L8), the basis for the melodic analysis in this chapter, is extraordinary both in the variety of its notational shapes and in the precision with which they are used.9 The same melodic contour can be written in great variety of ways. A two-​note rise (NH), for example, can be written

,

,

, or with

. (The first three of these shapes may be identitwo separate pen strokes, fied within the first two lines of Venite benedicti, Example  4.1.) A  three-​note rise can be written or (shapes also identifiable in the first two lines of Example 4.1). Some of these shapes are associated with particular melodic contexts. In most sacrificia, for example, the penultimate syllable of the chant Barrionuevo, “Relación entre la notación ‘mozárabe’ de tipo vertical y otras escrituras neumáticas,” Studi Gregoriani 11 (1995): 5–​112. 7. Although this principle of “iconicity” applies to the basic signs of this script, some forms depart from it. For further discussion, see Raquel Rojo-​Carillo, “Text, Liturgy, and Music in the Old Hispanic Rite: The Vespertinus Genre” (PhD diss., University of Bristol, 2017), 227–​28. 8. For a complete catalogue of neumes in L8, see the Chant Editing and Analysis Programme: https://​neumes.org.uk/​view/​neumelist/​1#Leon8. 9. The melodic relationship of L8 to other manuscripts is considered in Chapter 6.

The Melodic Language is accommodated with either a two-​note rise or a three-​note rise, written

respectively as or . Other ways of writing these contours are very rarely employed in this context. Moreover, the same neume forms are consistently used in combination with other specific shapes, forming recognizable patterns. The precise use of certain neume shapes and combinations in L8 facilitates the melodic analysis. For the manuscript’s Medieval users, this graphic consistency would have helped to prompt the aural memory of familiar melodic patterns, such as cadences. It is equally a gift for the analyst, making recurring patterns easily identifiable on a folio. The following pages are devoted to the identification of neume combinations that reappear within sacrificia and across the repertory, with the goal of determining how they function. I  consider the placement of these patterns in relation to melodic structure and verbal syntax, as well as their correlation with verbal features such as accent and word boundaries. Through such analysis, principles of a complex and rhetorically effective melodic language are unveiled. I  illustrate aspects of the melodic grammar through a few selected examples, drawn from the large fund of material collected in the analysis. More data are provided in a series of online appendices, which support my analytical claims, give more information about specific neume forms, and serve as a resource for readers who wish to explore the repertory more fully. The following discussion begins with the identification of cadences, then proceeds to melismas, phrase openings, and melodic repetition.

Cadences In chant repertories, the role of cadences is to parse the text into meaningful units. Often marked by an increase in the number of notes per syllable, cadences would normally have been followed by a breath, temporally dividing the text into units.To identify cadences, I began by examining the ends of chants. I then turned to the neume combinations that appear at syntactical divisions of the text within the chant. This analysis reveals a large but bounded vocabulary of cadential strategies and neume shapes. Nearly all of these may be found in more than one sacrificium and across the broader repertory of Old Hispanic chant.10 A central finding to emerge from this analysis is the close relationship between 10. All neume patterns I have identified as cadences also occur in other Old Hispanic genres, as searches in Chant Editing and Analysis Program (CEAP) have shown (neumes.org. uk). Some of these have been previously identified in Randel, The Responsorial Psalm Tones for the Mozarabic Office; and Nils Nadeau, “ ‘Pro sonorum diversitate vel novitate’.” (Some of the patterns I define as cadences are labeled by Nadeau as “modal signatures,” borrowing the term from Leo Treitler; at 184). See also Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, Music and Meaning in

109

110 Songs of Sacrifice melody and text. Some cadential neume patterns, for example, are associated with particular accent patterns at the end of the clause, others take different forms depending on where the final accent falls, while others appear to be accent-​neutral. After a survey and analysis of the cadential patterns themselves, I will return to Venite benedicti, showing how the cadences parse the text.

Final Cadences At final cadences, the sacrificia employ a limited set of melodic gestures. The most common cadence type at the ends of chants, which I shall call Type 1, comprises the final three syllables of the chant (see Example 4.2). Outside of Lent, just over two-​thirds of L8’s sacrificia (68/​96), close with a Type 1 cadence, usually on the word “alleluia.”11 The cadence formula begins with a standard gesture on the antepenultimate syllable, usually consisting of two to four neumes, shown in the first circle in Example 4.2a, b, c, and d. In final cadences, these standard neume combinations usually, though not always, come at the end of a longer melisma. The penultimate syllable has either a three-​note ascent, in the distinctive v-​shape, or the rounded form of the two-​note ascent. These two gestures usually correlate with the closing shape of the preceding melisma: if that melisma ends with a downward gesture, it is followed by the three-​note rise on the penultimate syllable (Example 4.2, a and b); melismas ending with an upward gesture are followed by a two-​note rise on the penultimate syllable (Example 4.2, c and d).12 The final syllable of the chant is accommodated with a single low note. The most consistent elements of this cadence type are the gestures on the final two syllables, which are nearly invariable.13 The end of the melisma on the antepenultimate syllable is variable but standard, drawing upon a large but limited set of cadential neume patterns. Two of these patterns are

Old Hispanic Lenten Chants: Psalmi,Threni, and the Easter Vigil Canticles (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2013); Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant,” Plainsong and Medieval Music 25 (2016): 37–​72; and Raquel Rojo-​Carillo, “Text, Liturgy, and Music in the Old Hispanic Rite: The Vespertinus Genre.” 11. While this strong preference for this cadence type at the ends of chants does not seem to be replicated in other Old Hispanic chant genres, it is a very common way to set the word “alleluia” across the repertory, whether at final cadences or not. In the sacrificia, then, its frequency may be attributable to the fact that most close with the word “alleluia.” 12. In other manuscripts, the three-​note rise is replaced by NHL or just a single note. See the summary in Chapter 6, as well as Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant.” 13. Exception:  Oravi deum, where the final two syllables have single notes. This is the choice most often reflected in late manuscripts from Toledo. See Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant.”

The Melodic Language Example 4.2. Type 1 final cadences: standard material on the last three syllables

a. Sacrificium deo spiritus (L8, 125)

b. Locutus est . . . ecce vocavi (L8, 271)

c. Fulgebit (L8, 41)

d. Vidi in caelo (L8, f. 203)

shown in Example 4.2, in the circled portion of the melisma on the antepenultimate syllable. In Type 2 final cadences (Example 4.3), the standard material comprises two syllables. A standard neume or series of neumes falls on the penultimate ­syllable, followed by a single note on the last syllable. The cadential neumes on the penultimate syllable are drawn from a large vocabulary of standard neume combinations, of which one is shown in Example  4.3. These combinations may occur either by themselves or as the ending of a longer melisma. Type 2 cadences comprise about one-​fifth of the final cadences in L8’s sacrificia (21/96). Finally, Type 3 cadences (Example 4.4) consist of a standard neume combination on the final syllable. Although this cadence type is rare in final cadences,

111

112 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.3. Type 2 final cadences: standard material on the penultimate syllable

and single note on the final syllable a. Angelus domini venit (L8, 252v)

b. Alleluia oblatio (L8, 233)

Example 4.4. Type 3 final cadences: standard material on the final syllable

a. Omnes de Saba (L8, 88v)

b. Offerte domino mundum (L8, 111)

occurring only 7/​96 times, we find it much more frequently at internal points of syntactical division. Table 4.1 categorizes each final cadence of the three cadence types according to the variable melodic material they use: the neumes indicated with the first circle in Examples  4.1, 4.2, and 4.3. This material, indicated in column 1, falls on the antepenultimate syllable in Type 1 cadences (cols. 2–​4), on the penultimate syllable in Type 2 cadences (cols. 5–​6), and on the final syllable

The Melodic Language in Type 3 cadences (col. 7). In Table 4.1 and elsewhere, I have transcribed the neume contours of these gestures with the letters N, S, H, L, and U (as described above, p. 108). The final cadences of all sacrificia in L8, along with the specific neume shapes represented in these transcriptions, may be examined in online appendix 2. Table 4.1 illustrates the high degree of standardization in final cadences, notable particularly in those of Type 1 (cols. 2–​4). Here, the Roman numerals in column 1 categorize each closing melisma on the antepenultimate syllable of “alleluia” according to its final neume. The sequence of Roman numerals reflects that neume’s frequency of use in the final cadences of the sacrificia. In the next level of division, indicated with the Arabic numbers shown in column 2, each closing Type 1 pattern is subdivided according to the final two neumes of the melisma. In some cases, these final two neumes are the only standard elements in the melisma. In other cases, the closing melisma ends with a longer standard neume combination, consisting of three to five neumes. These are shown in column 3. Thus, in the cadence I.1 (N + NHL), five instances are preceded by NS, resulting in the combination I.1.a (NS + N + NHL). In the case of I.2, NL + NHL is the only standard material in this cadence, and thus this cadence has no subdivisions given in column 3.  The numbers in this level of the taxonomy are in ascending order according to the number of notes: 1. N 2. NL 3. NH 4. NS 5. NLL 6. NHH 7. NHL 8. NUL, and so on. The table shows that in most sacrificia that close with the Type 1 cadence, the “alleluia” melisma ends with a series of at least two neumes, usually comprising five to six notes, that is found in the same position in at least one other sacrificium. This standard material can also comprise a longer portion of the closing melisma, consisting of the final three to five neumes or as many as eleven notes (col. 3).14 The six-​note pattern NS + N + NHL (I.1.a), for example, occurs on the antepenultimate syllable in five sacrificia. Although cadences of Types 2 and 3 are less common at the ends of chants, they, too, show a degree of standardization, as indicated in columns 5–​7. Eleven ­sacrificia, for example, close with a Type 2 cadence that has NHLH (IV in col. 1) on the penultimate syllable (see IV, column 5). Further, many of these have standard groupings of two neumes, comprising between six and nine notes (IV, column 6), in this position. In other cases, however, the standard material comprises only one neume, as in the two Type 3 cadences ending with NHL (I, column 7). Although the prevalence of certain neume combinations at the ends of chants implies some commonality of pitch content, caveats are warranted. It 14. As shown in online appendix 2, for example, Haec dicit . . . dabo and Ego servus end with the same melisma, and most of the melisma (i.e., the last four neumes) is incorporated as the closing section of a longer melisma at the end of Multiplicavit and Sapientia.

113

8. NUL+NHL

7. NHL+NHL

6. NHH+NHL

4. NS+NHL

2. NL+NHL

1.N+NHL

2.Type I final cadences: Closing 2 neumes on antepenultimate syllable

1

b. NLL+NS+NHL

2

b. N+NHL+NHL

3 1 3 1

a. N+NH+NLH

b. NHH+NH+NLH

c. NHHH+NH+NLH

3. NH+NLH

18 total

1

c. NL+NHH+NHL+NHL 2

1

a. NHL+NHL only

1

1

2

5

16 total

4.Type I final cadences: Number of instances

a. NHL+NS+NHL

a. NS+N+NHL

3. Subdivisions:Type I final cadences: Closing 3–​5 neumes on antepenultimate syllable

2. NL+NLH

II. NLH (porrectus) Total instances

I. NHL (torculus)

1. Closing neume

Table 4.1  Cadential Neumes in Final Cadences

3

3

5.Type II final cadences: 6.Type II subdivisions Closing gesture of penultimate syllable 2

7.Type 3 cadences: Closing gesture of final syllable

III. NULH

4 1 1

8. NUL+NULH

18 NHHH+NULH

21. NSHL+NULH

1

b. NHHH+NLL+NULH 1

2

2

12 total

a. NH+NLL+NULH

NUL+NS+N+NULH

1

b. NH+NHH+NLH 1

2

a. NULH+NHH+NHL

2

e. N (wavy punctum)+NUL+NH (looped)+NLH

6. NHH+NULH

5. NLL+NULH

1. N+NULH

10. NLLH+NLH

6. NHH+NLH

4

d. NH (v-​pes)+NH+NLH

2

(continued )

VII. NH

VI. NLHL

a. NLL+NS+NH

2

23. NHHHL+ NSHL

4. NS+NH

2. NL+NH

3

8. NUL+NSHL

2

1

4 total

1

4. NS+NSHL

6 total

4.Type I final cadences: Number of instances

V. NUHL

3. Subdivisions:Type I final cadences: Closing 3–​5 neumes on antepenultimate syllable 1

2.Type I final cadences: Closing 2 neumes on antepenultimate syllable

IV. NHLH

1. Closing neume

Table 4.1 Continued

11

22. NHHLL+NHLH (2 instances)

8. NUL+NHLH (1 instance)

7. NHL+NHLH (4 instances)

4. NS+NHLH (one instance)

2. NL+NHLH (3 instances)

5.Type II final cadences: 6.Type II subdivisions Closing gesture of penultimate syllable

4

7.Type 3 cadences: Closing gesture of final syllable

1 1 1

XIV. NLLH

XV. NHH

XVI. NHLHL

XXI. NS

XVIII. NULHL

1

1

XIII. NUL (trigon)

1

1

XII. NL

XVII. NUHLH

1

2

1

3. NH+quilisma

XI. NHHL or NUHL

1

2. NHL+quilisma 5

5

IX. Ascending notes 1. Ascending notes (“quilisma”)

X. NSHLH

2

1

VIII. Ascending notes (“quilisma” + descent)

b. NHH+NS+NH

1 1

118 Songs of Sacrifice is unlikely that all closing patterns ending with the same shape—​NHL, for example—​always represent the same pitch content each time they occur. The probability of common pitch content, however, increases with the longer series of shared neumes. For this reason, the longer patterns may point to the existence of a pre-​theoretical “modality” in the Old Hispanic chant, as Brou suggested long ago. As Randel has cautioned, however, this is probably not the same system of eight modes that we find in Franco-​Roman chant.15 As Table 4.1 shows, the choice of cadence type intersects in interesting ways with neume choice, suggesting that both were important components of the cadential grammar. Some cadential neumes, such as NLH (II) and NULH (III), occur both in Type 2 final cadences, where they fall on the penultimate syllable (shown in col. 5), and in Type 1 cadences, coming on the antepenultimate syllable (cols. 2–​3). Other neumes, however, are strongly associated with a particular cadence type. NHLH (IV), for example, is very common in Type 2 final cadences, accounting for half the instances (11/​21), but occurs only once in Type 1 cadences. With very few exceptions, the cadential use of NLHL (VI) is confined to Type 3 cadences (col. 7), where it is the final element.

Internal Cadences: Overview The identification of cadential shapes at the ends of sacrificia provides a starting point for discerning the melodic parsing of text within a chant. My principal guide, however, is the text. At the syntactical divisions within a chant, we find the same cadence types that appear at ends of chants.These distinctive contours occur at both large and small text divisions: at the ends of complete sentences, but also before prepositions, relative clauses, and direct quotations. Nearly all of the cadential neume patterns at final cadences in Table 1 also occur in these internal points of division. Readers may find a listing of all internal cadences in online appendices 3a–​3e, along with neume shapes and commentary that nuances the summary findings presented here. There I have adopted a taxonomy similar to that for final cadences (Table 4.1). The four levels of division 15. Louis Brou, “L’Alléluia dans la liturgie mozarabe. Étude liturgico-​musicale d’après les manuscrits,” Anuario musical 6 (1951): 3–​90; at 35–​36; Don M. Randel, “El antiguo rito hispánico y la salmodia primitiva en occidente,” in El canto mozárabe y su entorno: Estudios sobre la música de la liturgía viejo hispánica, ed. Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta (Madrid: Sociedad Española de Musicología, 2013), 84–​94; Don M. Randel, The Responsorial Psalm Tones for the Mozarabic Office (Princeton, NJ:  Princeton University Press, 1969), 12–​13. Michel Huglo has suggested that the diagrams interpolated into Isidore’s De musica reflect the tone-​system of Old Hispanic chant, a diatonic one similar to that of other Western chant traditions, in “The Diagrams Interpolated into the Musica Isidori and the Scale of Old Hispanic Chant,” in Western Plainchant in the First Millennium: Studies in the Medieval Liturgy and Its Music, ed. Sean Gallagher et al. (Aldershot: Ashgate, 1994), 243–​60.

The Melodic Language given there (i.e., Type 1: I, 1, a) provide the labeling for internal cadences. The following discussion will focus not on a presentation of the cadences themselves, but on aspects of melodic grammar that can be discerned from the analysis. Although nearly all patterns found at final cadences also occur at internal cadences, we find a far greater variety of melodic gestures at internal cadences. About one-​fourth of the internal cadences are of Type 1: the antepenultimate syllable has a cadential neume combination chosen from a large but limited vocabulary of such neumes, most of which also appear in this position at final cadences (full listing in online appendix 3a). The standard neume combination on the antepenultimate syllable can function either as the only element on that syllable or as the final component of a melisma. Non-​melismatic cadences are found at internal breaks far more often than at the ends of chants. The , for example, is the only neume on the antepenultismall NLH sign, mate syllable in sixty-​seven internal Type 1 cadences (see online appendix 3a, II.0). As with final Type 1 cadences, Type 1 internal cadences usually have a two-​or three-​note rise on the penultimate syllable, depending on the contour with which the preceding syllable closes:  an upward gesture on the penultimate syllable is followed by a two-​note rise; a downward gesture or single note is followed by a three-​note rise. In internal cadences of Type 1, however, other gestures also appear, though infrequently, on the penultimate syllable.16 In most cases, they are associated with particular melodic contexts.17 The final syllable usually has a single note or rounded NH, shapes that seem to be used interchangeably.18 Type 2 cadences are the most common cadence type for internal phrases. Here the penultimate syllable ends with a recognizable cadential gesture, again with a greater variety than we find at final cadences (full listing provided in online appendix 3b). On the final syllable, the single note and rounded form of the NH seem to be used interchangeably, in combination with particular shapes on the penultimate syllable. Other gestures, however, may also appear in this position, often in combination with specific material on the preceding syllable. In one of the most common cadential formulas, for example, the penultimate syllable has the v-​shaped NH, followed by an angular NH and NLH (see Example 4.6 below). When this neume pattern occurs in a Type 2 cadential context, it is usually followed by either the angular NL or NLH on the last 16. This is an element of the tradition that varies by region. See Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant,” 46; and Chapter 6, page 196. 17. For example,Type 1 cadences with NSH or N + NSH on the penultimate syllable are especially associated with a particular set of otherwise unusual gestures on the antepenultimate syllable: especially NHL. See online appendix 3a, XIX. 18. See online appendix 3a for a full listing of internal Type 1 cadences, which includes exceptions and additional commentary.

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120 Songs of Sacrifice syllable, rather than the single note or two-​note rise that occurs in many other Type 2 cadences. Another example is the cadential shape

(VIII), which is

usually followed by NSHL on the following syllable. Although the choice of neume on the last syllable often does not correlate with the material on the preceding syllable, it does so in these cases.19 Type 3 cadences, where the cadential gesture comprises only the last syllable, are also far more common at internal breaks than at final cadences (full listing in online appendix 3c). As with the other cadence types, these gestures may occur as the only element on a syllable. In this cadence type, however, many of them are more frequently found at the end of a longer melisma. While the taxonomy developed for final cadences fits most internal cadences, we find a greater variety and flexibility in internal cadences. A  small number, shown in online appendices 3d and 3e, do not fit into this taxonomy.20 Moreover, some internal cadences of Types 1 and 2 circulate in longer and shorter forms, in which the standard material can comprise varying numbers of syllables. For example, the Type 1 cadence with NL + NLH on the antepenultimate syllable occurs thirty-​five times in the repertory. Eighteen of these are preceded by an additional standard neume pattern, NH + NL, on the fourth , whereas the other instances syllable from the end, taking the form have a variety of neumes on the preceding syllable. Thus, it seems that while the material on the last three syllables was sufficient to signal a cadence, this particular standard cadence can also comprise four syllables.21 These examples show that the number of syllables in a standard cadence is not a rigid taxonomical characteristic, but rather a flexible element of the cadential grammar.

Melodic Vocabulary and Grammar The internal cadences offer a large data set through which to discern further aspects of the melodic grammar. Building on observations about final cadences, we find a complex interaction between melodic vocabulary and cadence type. Some cadential neume shapes, for example, have a strong association with 19. Different shapes representing NHL (I), moreover, are associated with different neumes on the final syllable. For other examples of neume pairs that frequently occur on the last two syllables, see online appendix 3a,Type I,VII.0 (often followed by N + NSH) and XI.0 (often followed by NSH), and online appendix 3b, Type II, I.0a and b, and III.3. 20. See the discussion below, pp. 123–24. 21. This kind of flexibility is also neatly illustrated in Rojo-​Carillo, “Text, Liturgy, and Music,” 241–​48.

The Melodic Language either Type 1 or 2 (i.e., occurring on either the penultimate or antepenultimate syllable), whereas others are present in both types. As noted above, for example, , NHLH, occurs only once in a final Type 1 cadence in the sacrificia of L8, and it is never used in an internal Type 1 cadence. In Type 2 cadences, however, this neume is the most common cadential gesture, occurring 167 times on the penultimate syllable, often as the final element in standard neume combina(V), by contrast, is used on tions (See online appendix 3b, IV). NSHL the antepenultimate syllable of Type 1 cadences thirty-​nine times. In Type 2 cadences, however, the NSHL contour occurs only five times, and all but one of these have the alternative shape instead. Some cadential neumes, however, are equally common in Types 1 and 2. Many of the combinations ending with the NLH (II), for example, occur in both cadential contexts, as shown in Example 4.5. These intersections and divergences between melodic material and cadence type underline the complexity of the cadential grammar in Old Hispanic chant. As a look through online appendices 3a–​c will show, the cadential taxonomy I have adopted, based on the closing neume of the cadential combination, neatly illustrates some probable melodic similarities between certain cadential (VI. 3.  c.) and (VI. 3.  b.). formulas, such as the Type 3 cadences This taxonomy, however, obscures other such likenesses. Some cadences, for example, are identical in every respect except their closing neume. A closely Example 4.5.  Use of the same cadential neumes in Type 1 and Type 2 cadences a: Type 1 cadence with NH + NLH (II.3a) in Regnum (L8, 32)

b. Type 2 cadence with NH + NLH (II.3a) in Sacerdos Zacharias (L8, 215)

121

122 Songs of Sacrifice related shape to VI. 3. b ends with additional higher note in the second pattern, NLHLH rather than NLHL . Although these kinds of similarities are not conveyed in the initial labeling, they are noted in the appendices.

Sensitivity to Accent Cadences show complex patterns of correlation with word accent at the end of the phrase, varying with each cadential type and pattern. Some cadence types are strongly associated with a particular accent pattern, others have variant forms with different accent patterns, and others are accent-​neutral. Type 1 cadences can take a different form in proparoxytone contexts,22 where the accent is on the antepenultimate syllable. Here the cadential material that would normally fall on the antepenultimate syllable sometimes comes instead on the fourth syllable from the end, and a single note is placed on the antepenultimate syllable. (See Example 4.6.) The penultimate syllable is then treated according to the contour principle described above:  because it follows a single note, it has a three-​note rise rather than a two-​note rise. This melodic adaptation for proparoxytones is strongly associated with neume shapes on the antepenultimate syllable that end in an upward gesture. When the antepenultimate syllable ends with a downward gesture, Type 1 cadences typically take the same form, regardless of accent.23 Some cadential neumes and neume combinations have a strong association with a particular accent pattern, suggesting that, in certain cases, accent was a factor in the melodic choice at cadences.24 Cadential gestures ending with HLH (II), for example, are very strongly associated with paroxytone endings in cadences of Type 1 (159/​181 instances) and in most cadences of Type 2.25 Although many Type 1 cadences can occur with either accent pattern, those with NHL + NHL (I.7) and NUHL/​NHHL (XI.0) on the antepenultimate syllable tend to occur with proparoxytones.26 Similarly, many

22. For statistical purposes, here and in the appendices, monosyllabic words that end a phrase and result in a proparoxytonic accent pattern (i.e., “bonae sunt”) are classed as proparoxytones endings. 23. As shown in online appendix 3a, there are few exceptions. 24. These data are fully presented for each cadence type in appendices 3a–​d. 25. The exception is the type that uses the small porrectus (NLH) as the only element on the syllable (Type II, II.0), which is about evenly divided between the two accent patterns. Of the other types that end with NLH, only 15/​114 are on proparoxytones. 26. All nine instances of HHL + NHL in Type 1 cadences are on proparoxytones, and 17/​ 22 instances of NHHL (XI) are proparoxytones. But this tendency is not found in Type 2 cadences that use NHHL: 12/​14 are paroxytones.

The Melodic Language Example 4.6. Type 1 cadence adapted for proparoxytone endings a. Type 1 cadence distributed over three syllables (associated with paroxytones) from Venient (L8, 54v)

b. Type 1 cadence distributed over four syllables (associated with proparoxytones) from Regnabit (L8, 35v)

Type 2 cadences are strongly associated with paroxytones, such as those that have NH + NLH (II.3), NHLH (IV), or NHHLH (XVII) as the last or only neume on the penultimate syllable.27 As for Type 3 cadences, one subset shows a strong preference for paroxytones, whereas others show no preference for either ending.28 Proper Hebrew names and places that fall at cadential points show a strong tendency to use Type 3 cadences, with a melisma on the final syllable.29 The sacrificium repertory in L8 includes a fourth type of internal cadence, rarer than the others, that is strongly associated with proparoxytones (full listing in online appendix 3d).The distinguishing feature of these cases, labeled as Type 4, is the use of NL on the penultimate syllable, preceded by an upward

27. See details and statistics in online appendix 3b. 28. Most of the cadences ending NLHL are about evenly divided between the two accent types (see online appendix 3c, VI). Most patterns ending NH tend to occur with paroxytones, though not exclusively. See online appendix 3c, VII. 29. Of the 98 cadences in the repertory that fall on proper Hebrew nouns, 67 are Type 3, 18 are Type 2, and 13 are Type 1. Type 3 cadences are especially associated with certain nouns (and their various declensions, when applicable): Moyses (15/​15 instances), Jerusalem (8/​11), Israhel (7/​7), Abraham (5/​6), Syon (5/​7).

123

124 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.7.  Cadence Type 4, associated with proparoxytones in León dialect a. Ego Daniel (L8 f. 46)

b. Haec dicit . . . formans te (L8, 99)

gesture on the antepenultimate syllable, and followed by N or NH on the final syllable.30 Associated especially with the word “domin-​,” this cadence type manifests most often in the forms shown in Example 4.7, with the angular or v-​shaped NH on the antepenultimate syllable.31 Especially common in the León melodic dialect, the Type 4 cadence occurs far more frequently in L8’s sacrificia than in those of other sources.32 While NL typically occurs on the penultimate syllable, other cadences in this family have NHH, NSH, or NHHH on the penultimate syllable. With the exception of the one beginning NSH (A. 3 in online appendix 3d), these, too, are strongly associated with proparoxytones. As these examples show, the interaction between melody and accent in the sacrificia is complex, depending on the particular melodic material employed and, in some cases, the cadence type. In some contexts, accent exerted an influence on the choice of melodic content at the end of the phrase.

30. This cadence can also be preceded by standard material on the fourth syllable from the end. See details and discussion in online appendix 3d. 31. The cadence formula consistently comprises the material on the last three syllables, but sometimes has a standard element on the preceding syllable as well, typically NSHL or NHHLL. 32. Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant,” 48–​50.

The Melodic Language

The Cueing Role of Distinctive Notation As noted above, the scribes of L8 tend to use particular neumes consistently in specific melodic contexts.33 These scribal customs are evident both in the choice of neume form and in how these neumes are arranged within the writing space. L8 includes a few shapes that appear only to be used at cadences.34 , which probably represents NSHLH (but possibly NULH),35 appears only in Type 2 cadences, as the final element on the penultimate syllable (see Example 4.3a and b; and online appendix 3b, X).36 An unusual way of writing NHL, shown as the first circled neume Examples 4.8, a and b, is used only in two specific cadential contexts. In Type 2 cadences, it comes on the penultimate syllable and is followed by NHLH (Example 4.8a). In Type 1 cadences, it is on the antepenultimate syllable and is followed by a second NHL with a more standard shape (Example 4.8b). These two cadences are strongly correlated with accent: the Type 2 version is exclusively associated with paroxytones (like many combinations ending NHLH), and the Type 1 version with proparoxytones. This pattern of complementary distribution has been confirmed in other chant genres.37 These cadences, however, also exemplify uncertainties about the meanings of specific neume shapes. The cadential formula shown in Example 4.8b, for example, can also be written with one of the standard NHL shapes.38 It is unknown whether this notational variant indicates a difference in

33. We find similar scribal customs in some other tenth-​and eleventh-​century manuscripts, but the matter is in need of a statistical study. 34. The cadential roles of these forms emerged in collaborative work with Emma Hornby and Elsa DeLuca in the Old Hispanic Office Project (European Research Council grant 313133), and has been confirmed by the CEAP database (Chant Editing and Analysis Programme, neumes.org.uk), which currently includes about 600 chants for the divine office. 35. The first element of this neume is a common sign indicating that the next note is identical in pitch. I then read the “W” shape as NHLH, resulting in the NSHLH interpretation. The other possibility is that it indicates NULH. This interpretation would read the first element of the “W” as the second element of a bistropha (NS). In the absence of a certain answer, I have transcribed it as NSHLH. 36. As shown in online appendix 3b, the first element may also be written with a vertical line. 37. See online appendix 3a I.7 and 3b IV.7. The prevalence of the accent association has been confirmed in the office chants by members of the Old Hispanic Office Project, using the CEAP database. 38. As shown in online appendix 3a, I, 7, half of the instances of this cadential contour are written with a different form of NHL for the first sign.

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126 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.8.  Special cadential form of the NHL contour a. Followed by NHLH in Type 2 cadences (associated with paroxytone endings) in Locutus est Daniel (L8, 96)

b. Followed by NHL in Type on cadences (associated with proparoxytones) Offerte domino holocausta (L8, 223)

pitch content, a performance nuance, or whether it is simply an inconsistency of writing.39 Other neume forms in L8 also have a strong tendency to be used in particular cadential contexts and in specific combinations with other neumes. The NHL contour, for example, is used in all three of the main cadence types, but with some preference for different shapes in each type. The NHL shape written with two pen strokes, , is far more common in Type 1 cadences (33 instances) than in Type 2 (10 instances). When the NHL contour occurs on the penultimate syllable of Type 2 cadences, other shapes are preferred.40 In Type 2 cadences, moreover, different forms of NHL tend to occur in combination with , for example, is used on the particular material on the final syllable. When penultimate syllable, it tends to be followed by NL or NLH on the next syllable, is followed by NSH or NUHL. These two different NHL shapes, whereas then, seem to indicate different cadential formulas, perhaps with different pitch 39. L8 has four principal music notation scribes, as well as a number of later correctors, as demonstrated in forthcoming work of Elsa De Luca. On corrections, see also González Barrionuevo, “La notación del Antifonario de León,” in El canto mozárabe y su entorno, 95–​133. 40. See online appendix 3b, I. 0.

The Melodic Language

content.41 Both the gapped version of NHLH,

, and the version with an

angular initial stroke, , occur frequently as the last element on the penultimate syllable of Type 2 cadences. The gapped version, however, is always the only element on the syllable. The angular version, by contrast, nearly always has at least one other pitch before it and in fact serves as the closing element in a large variety of standard cadential neume combinations.42 The different and , moreover, are not used inter­ ways of writing two repeated notes, changeably at cadences; rather, they tend to function as components of different cadential neume combinations.43 The consistent use of some neume forms in specific contexts attests to the precision of L8’s notation, and these customs are largely followed in other Old Hispanic manuscripts. In other cases, however, different forms of the same contour can occur in exactly the same contexts.44 In the online appendices, I have subcategorized cadences according to neume shape in cases where there appears to be a distinction in function, though future research might yield further distinctions that are not reflected there. Another visually distinctive aspect of cadences lies in the horizontal and vertical placement of constituent neumes. In Example 4.8a, the second neume (NHLH) sits vertically above and slightly to the right of the first (NHL). This positioning is consistent across most examples of this cadence in the sacrificia, but in 2/​35 instances, the second neume begins closer to the level where the second one ends , and in other two cases, the scribe writes these two neumes with a completely different positioning.45 Despite certain inconsistencies, however, we find a remarkable persistence of scribal habit in some cadences, which can sometimes incorporate two distinct, alternative ways of positioning the neumes. The largest family of Type 3 cadences, for example, end with NLHL, just before it (online and a large subset of these have the angular NH ­appendix 3c VI. 3). In most cases, these two neumes are consistently positioned 41. See online appendix 3b, I, for further details and examples. 42. The single exception in the sacrificia is Alleluia quasi carmen, “fructus eius.” 43. For example, the vertical version in various combinations with NHLH in Type 2 cadences (see online appendix 3b, IV. 4 and the rounded version in various Type 3 cadences (see online appendix 3c,VI.3.c). 44. NH is one example. For examples of different forms of NH occurring in the same cadential context, see Type 2 cadences with NH + NLH (online appendix 3b, II.3) or NH + NHLH (online appendix 3b, IV.3) as the only elements on a syllable. For an example of a context in which NH shapes are consistently differentiated, see note 46 below. 45. In Circuibo, this comes at the end of a melisma and already using the higher part of the writing space. The other case is Sacerdos Zacharias, on “Johannes.”

127

128 Songs of Sacrifice with the final one just to the right of the preceding one:  . In one of the most common Type 3 cadences, however, the last neume is often instead positioned above the preceding one:  .46 While it is not clear whether these two distinct notations represent different pitch content, the first two neumes of this pattern, using the two different shapes for NH, are always vertically positioned. These identifiable roles for specific neumes and neume patterns point to a distinctive culture of musical literacy associated with Old Hispanic chant in the tenth and eleventh centuries. We can envision a number of possible reasons for the notational precision of cadential neumes. Some neume forms may have had pitch or rhythmic implications, similar to other Western scripts, as Herminio González Barrionuevo has argued.47 The few Old Hispanic chants preserved in pitch-​readable notation, however, make it clear that in some cases, the vertical positioning of the neumes itself is not an indicator of pitch.48 The notational consistency may also be the result of simple scribal habit, perhaps reinforced by the aural recall of the melodic formulas being notated.49 For the modern reader, 46. In these common cadential patterns, the two different NH shapes that constitute the first element are always the same. Other neumes, such NHHLH (XVII) may take a variety of forms in all three cadence types, with no differences in melodic context. 47. Partly through references to other notational scripts, and partly through analysis of later manuscripts of the Franco-​Roman repertory that use Visigothic notation. See, inter alia, Herminio González Barrionuevo,“El pes corto en ‘uve’ de la notación ‘Mozárabe’ de tipo vertical,” Inter-​American Music Review 18 (2008): 17–​71; Herminio González Barrionuevo, “Deux graphies du scandicus subbipunctis dans la notation mozarabe de type verticale,” Etudes grégoriennes 24 (1992): 181–​87; and Herminio González Barrionuevo, “Dos ‘scandicus subbipunctis’ particulares en la notación ‘mozárabe’ de tipo vertical,” Annuario musical 48 (1993): 47–​61. 48. See the discussion in Emma Hornby, Kati Ihnat, Rebecca Maloy, and Raquel Rojo-​Carillo, Liturgical and Musical Culture in Early Medieval Iberia: Decoding a Lost Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming), Chapter 5. Most of the pitch-​readable chants are transcribed in Casiano Rojo and Germán Prado, El canto mozárabe: estudio histórico-​ crítico de su antigüedad y estado actual (Barcelona: Diputación Provincial de Barcelona, 1929), 91–​ 102; for other examples of isolated Old Hispanic chants surviving in various pitch-readable guises, see, inter alia, Carmen Rodríguez Suso, “Les chants pour la dédicace des églises dans les anciennes liturgies de la Septimanie: leur contexte liturgique et leur transmission musicale,” in L’art du chantre carolingien: découvrir l’esthétique première du chant grégorien; le Colloque “L’Art de Chantre Carolingien” (mars 1996) eut lieu grâce au soutien de la Ville de Metz, ed. Marie-​Noël Colette and Christian-​Jacques Demollière (Metz: Metz Serpenoise, 2004), 91–​102; and David Catalunya and Carmen Julia Gutiérrez,“A Mozarabic Preces in Ars Nova Notation,” Plainsong and Medieval Music 22 (2013): 153–​67; Carmen Julia Gutiérrez,“Avatares de un repertorio marginal: las preces de la liturgia hispánica,” Revista de musicología 35 (2012): 11–​41; and Carmen Julia Gutiérrez, “Melodías del canto hispánico en el repertorio litúrgico poético de la Edad Media y el Renacimiento,” in El canto Mozárabe y su entorno, 547–​75. 49. On scribes’ internalized sense of melody, see Susan Rankin, “Calligraphy and the Study of Neumatic Notations,” in The Calligraphy of Medieval Music, ed. John Haines (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 47–​62.

The Melodic Language the consistent arrangement of the neumes at cadences makes the patterns readily identifiable on the page, thus quickly cueing us to a particular structural point in the melody. We may hypothesize that for the manuscript’s Medieval users, too, these standard neume combinations would have helped to cue the aural memory of a melodic formulas or group of formulas associated with them.

Pacing and Parsing the Text Having introduced the syntactical principles of the cadences, let us return to Venite benedicti (Example 4.1) for an illustration of how these formulas shape the delivery of text. Throughout the repertory, the cadential formulas mark both larger and smaller syntactical divisions, separating the text into audible, temporally spaced units. Venite benedicti is typical in this respect. The cadences are indicated in the key to Example 4.1, with the labels used to designate them in online appendices 2 and 3. Most melismas in this chant end with a recognizable cadential gesture, and standard non-​melismatic cadences are also identifiable. The cadences in Venite benedicti exemplify several traits of the repertory as a whole. Here, as in most sacrificia, the divisions of text sometimes comprise the smallest sensible units. In addition to the expected larger syntactical breaks, such as “patris mei” (box 3, which completes the first sentence in Venite), cadences are frequently found before prepositions and relative pronouns, and at the ends of prepositional or genitive phrases. A hierarchy of smaller and larger divisions is not discernable in the melodies; rather, the same vocabulary of cadences is employed at each kind of textual division. In addition to the typical small divisions of text, cadences and cadential melismas can also fall in unexpected places.The first or second word of the chant typically has a cadence, sometimes with a melisma, whether or not it is an expected point of syntactical division. In this position, melismas can serve as a kind of formal marker, resulting in even smaller divisions of text. In Venite benedicti, common cadential patterns occur on both opening words: “Venite” and “benedicti.”Within a chant, the opening of a new section is often treated in a similar way, as the beginning of section III (box 14). As I will argue in Chapter 5, the separation of individual words can also work to rhetorical effect, emphasizing key points in the text. The extent to which cadences provide temporal lengthening becomes clear through counting the number of notes per syllable, as illustrated in Example 4.9. The beginnings and internal syllables of phrases often have two to three notes per syllable, whereas many of the cadences (though not all) are small melismas, resulting in lengthening. In the opening text, “come, blessed [ones] of my father” (Example 9a), the imperative “venite” has ten notes, ending in a Type 2 cadence. “Benedicti” is likewise separated temporally from the following genitive “patris mei,” by the nine-​note Type 3 cadence on its last syllable.Although these temporal expansions neatly parse the text’s smaller units, they often push against the larger syntactical structure. Here, for example, “venite” and “benedicti” have slightly longer melismas than that found at the end of the sentence, on “patris mei.”

129

Example 4.9a.  Notes per syllable in Venite benedicti, opening of section I

Venite 1-​10-​1 

 benedicti  6-​2-​3-​9  

 patris mei.  5-​2   7-​1 

 Percipite regnum   quod vobis paratum est   2-​2-​2-​6 11-​1     3            5-​4      3-​3-​2  7

Example 4.9b.  Notes per syllable in Venite benedicti, section IV

1. Esurivi/​         et dedistis         mihi    manducare 1-​ 1-​ 11-​ 4          1 2-​ 2-​ 3         4-​ 1    5-​ 5-​ 2-​ 1

2. os—​             pes eram/​      et collegistis       me 23-​             5 3-​ 2         1 1 1-​ 1-​ 4-​ 3           8

3. nudus/​ et operuistis    me 2-​2   2 2-​1-​1-​2-​5-​4       1

4. infirmus/​   et visitatis    me 1-​12-​1        1 3-​ 2-​5-​4-​1   1

5. In carcere e               ram/  ​ et venistis ad    me 4 1-​ 4-​ 8 54                  -​ 4   1  1-​ 2-​ 2-​ 3 3      1

The Melodic Language This lengthening at points of incomplete sense is a pervasive rhetorical tool of the genre, and may be illustrated in the final section of Venite benedicti, Example 4.9b.50 Matthew 25:35–​36 consists of six parallel sentences, with two clauses each. Each second clause completes the meaning of the first:  “I was hungry/​and you gave me something to eat.” 2.  I  was thirsty/​and you gave me something to drink.” 3. “I was a stranger/​and you took me in.” 4. “I was naked/​and you clothed me.” 5. “I was sick/​and you looked after me.” 6. “I was in prison/​and you visited me.” Although each of these twelve clauses ends with a standard cadence, the cadences at the incomplete points, indicated by “/​,” are temporally extended. The first clause of each sentence (with the exception of sentence 4) has a melisma, whereas the end of each sentence (with the exception of sentence 2), is marked by a brief, non-​melismatic cadence.The temporal weight is given to the initial, incomplete clause. These cadential melismas shape how this text was heard. In each sentence, the text of the second clause is longer than that of the first (i.e., “Esurivi/​et dedistis mihi manducare”). The placement of the cadential melisma on the first clause thus temporally balances the two clauses. One could also argue that these melismas highlight Christ’s self-​references, which dominate the first clause of each sentence. Their chief effect, however, lies in their placement at the secondary syntactical break in each sentence, before “et,” rather than at the end of the sentence. The lengthened pacing, cadence, and in-​breath hold the listener’s attention in anticipation of the completed sentence. This kind of pacing, found throughout the repertory, is often a key factor in the rhetorical delivery of the text. The placement of the longest melisma at the midpoint of the final sentence, on “eram,” creates a climactic moment in the rhetoric. Another tendency exemplified in Venite benedicti is the recurrence of the same or related cadential formulas within a chant, indicated in Example  4.1 by the same labeling. The cadences in boxes 4, 6, 9, and 10 recur within the chant, in some cases multiple times. A  factor not captured by the labeling is the use of cadences that are similar but not identical. Particularly prominent in this chant are Type 2 cadences in which the penultimate syllable ends with NHLH (all including the label IV), a shape that occurs no fewer than five times in section I alone. Melismas that are very similar or identical in contour are repeated, among other places, at the beginning and end of section I (“venite” and “alleluia,” boxes 1 and 7), and over “sitivi” and “infirmus” in section IV (boxes labeled 4).The repetition of this cadence underlines the parallel grammatical structure of the two sentences, discussed above, while also echoing “regnum” near the beginning of the chant. We find similar repetition at “benedicti” (section I) and “me” (section IV; 50. The frequent quilisma-​like shapes in this passage over “in carcere eram” pose a challenge for accurate note count, since the number of notes intended is not clear. For the sake of a consistent note count, I have counted each as three ascending notes.

131

132 Songs of Sacrifice boxes labeled 2 and 26). The related cadential gestures in boxes labeled 4 and 19 appear both as the main component of short melismas and the ending of longer melismas.This recurrence of similar or identical cadential formulas, typical of the sacrificia, undoubtedly lent tonal coherence to the melodies.

“Extended” and “Delayed” Cadences The standard cadential material in Venite benedicti illustrates one further facet of the melodic grammar: cadential neumes can occur in places that do not appear to lead directly to cadences. In section III, the long melisma on “omnes” closes with a neume pattern (box 16) that is frequently found in Type 2 cadences. The syntax here, however, does not call for a cadence until the next word, “angeli,” which precedes a prepositional phrase. In a Type 2 cadence, moreover, we would expect a single note, NH, or NL on the following syllable, but instead we find a short melisma (N + NS + NH) associated with Type 3 cadences, followed by an expected cadence on “angeli” (box 17). A very similar phenomenon occurs on “fulgebunt iusti”:  the standard neume combination on “fulgebunt” (box 19) is followed by a nonstandard element on the final syllable that leads to a clearly identifiable cadence on “iusti” (box 20), the end of the sense unit. These “delayed cadences,” especially associated with melismas, are a further rhetorical tool, pointing to the complexity of the cadential grammar.51

Cadence Summary Through a collective examination of all sacrificia, I  have defined a principal cadential vocabulary for the repertory, given in online appendices 3a–​d. This analysis positions us to understand aspects of the genre’s melodic grammar and the relationship between text and music. Through it, we can discern the parsing of the text in individual sacrificia. In short, pacing is key to understanding the genre’s musical rhetoric, to which I  shall turn in Chapter  5. It is worth mentioning, however, that the repertory includes a handful of chants that do not lend themselves easily to such analysis, in part because they only minimally employ the standard vocabulary.52 The few cadences that are atypical of the sacrificia are collected in online appendix 3e.

51. Further examples. Omnes viri III, at “hereditatis tuae.”The first syllable has a very common Type 2 cadential gesture (NS + NHLH), suggesting a typical Type 2 element on the final syllable (a single note, NH, or NL). Instead, there is a melisma that ends in the Type 3 cadential gesture NL + NHL. See also Munera, “dilexi te”; Sicut cedrus, on the final “alleluia”; and Alleluia clamor, “ornaverunt.” 52. In particular, Alleluia quasi carmen, Oravi deum, and Erit hic. These melodic anomalies are of particular interest in the latter two cases because closely related chants serve as

The Melodic Language

Long Melismas Melismas are an inherent part of the sacrificium’s melodic language. An analysis of their constituent parts reveals that longer melismas are mini-​compositions, incorporating standard neume patterns with identifiable functions and internal repetitions. Because melismas use compound neumes and strings of neumes, uninterrupted by the flow of text, they are the easiest context in which to recognize recurring melodic material. As noted, many melismas close with the same cadential gestures that occur in non-​melismatic contexts. Different melismas, moreover, employ the same neume shapes and combinations in the same contexts:  at the opening of a melisma or melisma section, at the close of a section, or at the close of a whole melisma. The consistent positioning of these melodic elements indicates that they serve specific functions in the melismas’ melodic syntax. Recurring material can thus yield insight into how the melismas were put together. In the following pages I will consider the role of melismas in the melodic structure and text delivery, then turn to the principles of their construction.

Placement and Function of Long Melismas The sacrificia differ in the number of long melismas they incorporate, ranging from none to several. Despite this diversity, the repertory exhibits strong tendencies in the placement and function of melismas. First, like the cadences they usually extend, melismas can function as markers of musical structure. Most sacrificia open with a short melisma on the first word or two and end with a longer one on the final “alleluia.” Melismas often mark the beginnings and ends of sacrificium sections as well.53 Second, the length of melismas often correlates with their placement within the sacrificium, becoming longer over the course of the chant. In opening sections, nearly all melismas are under 30 notes. Among the closing melismas in the opening section, the great majority (69/​86) are under 30 notes, and the longest is 46. Melismas of between 50 and 100 notes (42/​51), by contrast, usually occur in the final section, and nearly all melismas over 100 notes are in final sections. The length of melismas also correlates with their role in the text delivery. Longer melismas of moderate length, 30–​50 notes, are often found near the beginnings of sections II–​IV (as in section II of Venite benedicti, Example 4.1). Franco-​Roman offertories and have been proposed as Gallican survivals in Levy, “Toledo, Rome, and the Legacy of Gaul,” Early Music History 4 (1984): 44–​99. Some of their peculiarities are discussed in Chapter 7. 53. This is also typical of other Old Hispanic chant genres. Nadeau discusses this phenomenon in “ ‘Pro sonorum diversitate vel novitate’,” 134–​63.

133

134 Songs of Sacrifice In this position, they serve as formal markers and may interrupt the flow of the textual sense.54 Within sections, however, the majority of melismas that interrupt the flow of the sense are under 30 notes. Thus, the cantors evidently employed the shorter melismas in the service of musical rhetoric, holding the listeners’ attention for the completion of the sense. By contrast, the longest melismas tend to occur at larger points of textual division, such as the ends of complete sentences, and thus do not interrupt the flow of the textual sense. In final sections, longer melismas often mark a point in the text that is central to the liturgical season or the allegorical meaning. In the final section of Ego dominus creavi, assigned to multiple saints, the words “the flames will not touch you,” referring to God’s protection in the face of persecution, are marked by long melismas at the beginning and end of the passage, on “non” (62 notes) and “contaminabit” (92 notes). The melismas set this passage apart temporally from the surrounding text. The longest melismas can lend even more rhetorical emphasis in the very rare cases when they fall before the completion of a sense unit. In Venient, for example, a 109-​note melisma on “sempiterna” divides it from the rest of the clause, “misertus sum,” reflecting a tendency for melismas to be placed on words associated with the transcendence of time.55 Melismas are thus a central tool in the musical rhetoric, as further illustrated in Chapter 5.

Marginal Notation of Long Melismas For unclear reasons, some melismas are wholly written into the margins in L8 and other Old Hispanic manuscripts. Of the twenty-​one such melismas in L8’s sacrificia, five consist of a lengthy “alleluia” that comprises the whole final section of the chant, indicated by the rubric v. LDE (laude; see the end of Venite benedicti, Example 4.1, and the melisma in the left margin). This custom of having a long “alleluia” as the final section may have been borrowed from the sonus, an elaborate chant sung in the divine office, where it occurs far more frequently.56 In the case of the sonus, some of these melismas are absent in one early fragment, Paris 2199. This suggests that the longest melismas in the soni were a fluid practice, an impression reinforced by evidence for erasures and later additions in L8.57 In the soni, then, a flexible addition, subtraction, and

54. Long melismas that interrupt the sense occur eighteen times and the beginning of section II and ten times at the beginning of section III or IV. 55. See the discussion in Chapter 5, pp. 172–73. 56. Louis Brou, “L’Alléluia dans la liturgie mozarabe,” 45. 57. Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, “Fixity, Flexibility, and Compositional Process in Old Hispanic Chant,” Music & Letters 97 (2017): 547–​74; at 565–​67. We discuss the erasures and scribal practices in a forthcoming study.

The Melodic Language emendation of melismas might explain their notation in the margins. For the sacrificia, however, I have found no comparable reason for the marginal notation. With a couple of exceptions, the marginal melismas in the sacrificia of L8 appear to be written by the same primary hand as the rest of the chant.58 While variants between L8 and later sources do point to flexibility in the practice of melismas, these variants are equally present among the melismas written within the body of the chant.59 Length, moreover, is not the determining factor: although all marginal melismas consist of more than 100 notes, which would take up at least a full line of parchment, melismas just as long can also be notated within the main chant.60 The reasons for the marginal notation are thus not resolved.

Repeat Structures The majority of longer melismas in the sacrificia (30+ notes) contain large-​ scale repetition.61 A common strategy is to open a melisma with a repetition of one or more discrete melodic sections, followed by a closing section that ends in a recognizable cadential gesture, resulting in a form such as AAB, AABBC, AABBCCD, etc. (see Example 4.10). The repetition can either be exact or slightly varied. Melismas can also have a more complex structure, involving varied returns of material that appeared earlier in the melisma,62 or a string of varied repetitions.63 Repeats within melismas may be indicated by the letter d

58. For an example, of one written by a latter hand, see “ducem” in Ingressus est Daniel, f. 64. 59. See discussion in Chapter 6, pp. 205–11. 60. Musical evidence could potentially bear on the question whether the melismas were optional, but this, too, is inconclusive. Of the sixteen marginal melismas that are not a final alleluia, seven have neumes over the corresponding word in the main chant. In these cases, it would be possible, within the bounds of the usual melodic grammar, to sing the word without the melisma. In cases where melismas occur at cadential points, for example, the neumes indicated over the syllable in the main chant are cadential neumes. In some cases, however, the syllable on which the melisma was to be placed has no notation, and in other cases, the melisma is cued in a way that suggests that it was not optional. 61. Brou discussed these, though mostly with regard to other genres, in “Le joyau des antiphonaires latins,” Archivos Leoneses:  Revista de Estudios y Documentación de Los Reinos Hispano-​Occidentales 15 (1954):  7–​ 114; at 19–​ 22; and “L’Alléluia dans la liturgie mozarabe,”  47–​48. 62. See, for example, the melisma on “contaminavit” in Ego dominus, where the expected form AABBCC is followed by DEEDF; the Fulgebit melisma on “iustitiae,” which may be diagrammed as AABAAC; and Ingressus est Daniel, where the “ducem” melisma in the margin incorporates repetitions of the A and B segments amid non-​repeated material. 63. In Omnes de Saba on “Israhel,” for example, many sections begin differently but end with the same nine-​note pattern. See also the discussion of Vidi in caelo in Chapter 5, p. 184–84.

135

136 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.10.  Data est lex, melisma on “sua” (L8, 82)

(“duplicatur”),64 but often they are fully written out. These repeat structures indicate that melismas were conceived in discrete sections.

Melismatic Composition Long Melismas and Their Constituent Parts Like the repertory as a whole, most long melismas in the sacrificia are uniquely constructed from a fund of melodic material that is in use throughout the repertory. The purpose of the following analysis is to identify these recurring elements and illustrate their functions within the melismatic syntax, and thus to ascertain some principles of melismatic composition. Most melismas close with a neume combination that also serves as the closing element in at least one other long melisma. Often these are the same cadential neume combinations that appear throughout the repertory in non-​melismatic contexts, helping to establish their cadential function within the melisma. Even discrete sections within the melisma tend to have standard opening and closing gestures. The vocabulary for making melismas consists of both longer and shorter elements. Entire sections of longer melismas (often consisting of 20 notes or more) often circulate among different melismas.The shorter melismas found in some chants may also be incorporated into a longer melisma. It is less common, however, for complete longer melismas (40+ notes) to circulate in more than one sacrificium.65 Instead, the singers’ or scribes’ preference was to create new melismas, using familiar material, in a process of constant invention. Flexibility in the construction of melismas can be evident even among the few that appear more than once in the repertory. As shown in Example 4.11, a very similar long melisma appears in two chants, Munera and Circuibo. The Munera melisma, however, has a varied repetition of both sections, whereas the Circuibo melisma repeats only the first section. While it is typical for melismas to circulate in

64. See Brou, “L’Alléluia dans la liturgie mozarabe,” 45–​47, though the focus is generally on other genres. 65. A sampling of whole melismas that do circulate in more than one sacrificium may be examined in online appendix 4.

The Melodic Language Example 4.11.  Use of the same melismatic material in two sacrificia, with and

without repetition a. Munera (L8, 49v)

b. Circuibo (L8, 104)

different lengths in different manuscripts,66 this example implies a certain variation and flexibility even within L8. The following analysis begins with the longer elements that are shared by different melismas, including whole sections, then proceeds to a discussion of the smaller elements and how they function.

Circulation of Melisma Sections in Different Chants The creators of the sacrificia reused melisma sections in a variety of contexts, yielding insight into the ingenuity of melismatic composition. The three melismas shown in Example 4.12, from different sacrificia, incorporate the same extended neume combination at different points. In Alleluia palmae fuerunt (4.12a), the section shown in the box comprises most of the melisma. In Alleluia oblatio iusti (4.12b), the same twenty-​eight notes occur at the end of a longer melisma. Despite these similarities, however, these two melismas use different standard cadential gestures, a Type 2 cadence in 4.12a and a Type 1 in 4.12b. In Alleluia Angelus domini (4.12c), the first twenty notes of this segment form the B section of much longer melisma. As this example shows,

66. Each of the melismas in Example  4.11 is preserved in another manuscript, in the shorter form. For further examples, see Chapter 6. For a discussion of this phenomenon in the office soni, see Hornby and Maloy, “Fixity, Flexibility, and Compositional Process in Old Hispanic Chant.”

137

138 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.12.  Use of a melisma section in three different sacrificia melismas a: Alleluia Palmae fuerunt (L8, 92v)

b: Alleluia Angelus domini (L8, 175v)

c: Alleluia Angelus domini (L8, 175v)

the singers’ preference was not to transfer longer melismas wholesale, but to combine shorter elements, probably memorized, in ever varying ways. Readers who wish to explore other such examples may find a large sampling in online appendix 5.

Smaller Elements: Use and Function We can gain further insight into the construction of melismas by examining the functions of smaller melisma components, groups of two to four neumes, within the melismas’ melodic syntax. These tend to occur at particular structural points within a melisma, such as the opening or closing of the melisma or of sections within it. Although we do not know whether these neume combinations represent the same pitch content in every case, this seems increasingly likely the longer the string of neumes. Defining the functions of these neume combinations yields further insight into how longer melismas were formed.

The Melodic Language

Melisma Endings Let us start by examining closing strategies for the whole melisma. Many longer melismas close with the same neume combinations that serve a cadential role throughout the repertory, just as we saw in the melismas of final cadences. I refer to melismas with cadential endings, followed by the expected cadential elements on the following one to two syllables, as “cadential melismas.” Often this cadential figure is the only element shared by a set of melismas. Example 4.13a–​c shows a series of melismas that end with a standard neume combination, NHH + NH + NLH, which is a cadential formula in cadences of Types 1 and 2 (see online appendices 3a and 3b, II. 3c). In 4.13a, this formula comprises most of a short melisma, whereas in 4.13b and c, it is the final element of two longer melismas that have no other material in common. Likewise, the short melisma in 4.13d is a common Type 3 cadential formula, and in 4.13e it is used as the closing element of a much longer melisma. The repertory also includes a few longer neume combinations that appear only at the ends of the longest melismas.67 Although the majority of melismas in the sacrificia end with cadential gestures, not all melisma-​ending formulas are recognizably cadential.The melismas in Example 4.14 end with the same three contours, a pattern that is not found among the cadential formulas I have identified. Indeed, each of these melismas is followed closely by a full Type 1 or Type 2 cadence, two to four syllables after the melisma (shown in the second circle of each example), reinforcing the impression that the melismas themselves are non-​cadential in such cases.

Melisma Openings Long melismas also tend to open with a limited set of strategies. A melisma can begin with immediate repetition, but it often does so only after a single initial note (as in Example 4.10). In the absence of immediate repetition, an opening single note is often followed by an angular NH, NS, or NUL. The opening material shared with other melismas may comprise as many as three or four , for example, opens multiple melismas of neumes. This combination varying lengths.68 Most of these gestures, as discussed below, can also open sections within a melisma. 67. The section marked C in Example 4.18, for example, consists of a long neume combination that appears at the ends of the longest melismas in Multiplicavit, Isti sunt festi, Alleluia magna, and Amplificare. The last three of these neumes also appear in Alleluia Angelus domini (Example 4.12c). The closing four neumes in the longest melisma of Venient (Example 4.15c) also occur at the ends of melismas in Offerte domino holocausta, Alleluia prima, and, in varied form, Munera. 68. For example, Ingressus est Daniel, on “Israhel” (twice); Regnabit,“aperiet”; Melchisedec,“aquiline.” A related opening combinations has NH rather than the single note as the initial element.

139

Example 4.13.  Cadential formulas and cadential melismas a. Ingressus dominus . . . in domum, Type 2 cadence (L8, 158v)

b. Alleluia temporibus, Type 1 cadential melisma (L8, 177)

c. Locutus est Daniel, Type 2 cadential melisma (L8, 96)

d. Omnes viri, Type 3 cadence (L8, 33v)

e. Iustitiam, Type 2 cadential melisma (L8, 236v)

The Melodic Language Example 4.14.  Non-​cadential formulas at the ends of melismas a. Haec dicit . . . dabo, non-​cadential melisma on “altare” and Type 2 cadence on “meam” (L8, 240)

b. Audi Israhel . . . quia magna non-​cadential melisma and Type 1 cadence on “nostrum” (L8, 269v)

c. Locutus . . . ecce vocavi non-​cadential melisma and Type 2 cadence on “sanctorum” (L8, 271)

Neume Groups within Melisma Sections The presence of formulaic closing material, opening strategies, and standard sections in melismas suggests that they are mini-​compositions with their own musical logic, drawing in part on gestural patterns found elsewhere in the repertory. These kinds of processes, in miniature, can also be discernable within each section of a melisma, where we find recurring opening and closing gestures. The most common closing gestures for melisma sections typically comprise a pattern ending in two to four neumes, with NLHL , NUL , or NHL (in a variety of shapes) as the final neume.69 Although these closing patterns may occur only once within a melisma, they often function as the final element of 69. In many melismas, the NUL closing element has a porrectus flexus (NLHL) written under it by a later corrector, but here I have analyzed the original version of the chant.

141

142 Songs of Sacrifice a repetition, which clarifies their function as closing elements. Several of these patterns, particularly those ending with NLHL, are identical or closely related to Type 3 cadential formulas. , for example, is identical to cadence Type III, VI.3.a (see online appendix 3c). Within melismas, this shape occurs frequently as the closing element of a section or, occasionally, of a whole melisma. The related combinations (starting with three repeated notes) and (starting with NHH) have a similar function. As shown in Example 4.15, these patterns are incorporated into melisma sections of varying lengths that have no other material in common. In rare cases, they can serve as the only element in short, repeated sections.70 The other two common closing gestures for melisma sections, NUL and NHL, also occur at the last element of longer patterns, though they may also appear in less formulaic contexts, with the single final neume as the only element shared with other melisma sections. A notable feature of the NHL ending is a particular elongated shape that occurs primarily in melismas, , and often in the section-​closing context.71 This shape may well have had rhythmic implications.72 Indeed, the various sections of the melisma may have been distinguished in performance by a slowing of the pacing or by short pauses in between sections, making audible their sectional structure. A  full listing of closing formulas for melisma sections is given in online appendix 6.

Openings of Melisma Sections Melisma sections most often open with ascending motion, which takes a number of stereotyped forms. The most common of these are the angular form of NH and this form of NHH . These can be followed by nearly any contour. The most common shapes to follow NH include another NH,73 NHL,74 or NUL.75 NHH is often followed by NHL76 or 70. See, for example Aedificavit Noe, “terra.” 71. It is also the final neume of a Type 3 cadence pattern. See online appendix 3c, I. 2. 72. González Barrionuevo, “Relación entre la notación ‘mozárabe’ de tipo vertical y otras escrituras neumáticas,” 48, has suggested that it represents torculus initio debilis, with a lighter initial note. 73. In either the angular or v-​shape. The examples listed here are not exhaustive. See Accepit, “vos” (marginal melisma); Parvulus, “sedens”; Locutus . . . ecce vocavi, “observarent”; Formavit, “eius”; In temporibus, “vero”; Alleluia temporibus, “sua.” 74. The NHL is written in a variety of forms. Examples include Alleluia angelus, “alleluia” (section III opening); Munera, “amen”; Venient, “meus”; In temporibus, “se”. 75. Alleluia angelus, “alleluia” (section II opening), “videte”; Munera, “sua”; Alleluia oblatio, “alleluia” (section II); Haec dicit . . . qui, “cantantes.” 76. This general contour has many varied forms, such as NHHH + NSHL, NHH + NS + NHL, NHHH + NSLHL. The v-​shaped version of NHH, so common at cadences and

Example 4.15.  Sampling of melismas that employ NHH + NH + NLHL as a

section ending a. Haec dicit . . . formans, section I of marginal melisma (L8, 99)

b. Aedificavit Salomon (L8, 238)

c. Venient (L8, 54v)

144 Songs of Sacrifice NH.77 Other opening combinations include NHL followed by NUL78; the v-​shaped NH, often followed by NS; and a single note followed by NS.79 In longer melismas, the latter combination often forms the first pair in a longer 80 or  .81 standard neume combination such as Example 4.16 illustrates how different melisma sections can be formed from the same opening neume combinations. Examples 4.16a–​c show melisma sections that open with the same three-​neume (or longer) pattern and close with NHL, but differ in the middle. Sections with the same opening can also lead into a different standard ending (Examples  4.16d–​e). As this example shows, melisma sections employ opening and closing material in a wide variety of combinations, resulting in a melodic diversity that is rooted in the use of familiar material. The preceding discussion has defined the functions of standard elements within a melisma and illustrated some ways in which they can be combined. Looking more closely, it is possible to establish certain constraints that guided the choice of material, particularly in the endings of cadential melismas. As shown, certain cadential formulas are associated with particular cadential types and accent patterns, and these customs could also guide the “exit strategy” for melismas. Example 4.17 shows three melismas that begin with standard material consisting of three neumes (9 notes), sometimes in slightly varied form, and close with a standard cadence. In Example 4.17a, the closing three neumes are a formula exclusively associated with Type 2 cadences, where they appear on the penultimate syllable of a word and have a strong paroxytone association (30/​ 32 instances).82 Thus, the choice of this closing shape correlates both with the placement of the melisma on the penultimate syllable of the phrase and with the accent of “odorem” on the penultimate syllable.The melisma on the proparoxytone “dominus” in 4.17b, by contrast, ends with a form of NUHL found in Type 1 cadences. This particular Type 1 cadence has a strong, though not exclusive, association with proparoxytones (23/​27 instances), as it is used here.83 In 4.17c,

openings, is not used in this context. Examples of this shape and its variants include Averte, “peccavi”; Munera, “israhel”; Haec dicit . . . formans, “preter me”; Locutus est . . . amen, “ferrebatur”; Locutus est . . . ad principem, “mea”; Regnabit, “patris”; Aedificavit Moyses altare, “valide”; Haec dicit . . . qui, “citharas”; Omnes populus, “laudes.” 77. Venient, “meus”; Ego dominus, “contaminavit”; In temporibus, “Isaac”; Alleluia magna, “Israhel”; Alleluia temporibus, “sua”; Iustitiam, “me.” 78. Alleluia palmae, “dei”; Aedificavit Noe, “egressus”; Melchisedec, “ardentis”; Apparebit, “aedificberis”; Alleluia oblatio, “alleluia”; Amplificare, “gentes.” See also Example 16 below. 79. Formavit, “eius”; Ego servus, “reddam”; Aedificavit Noe, “terra”; Amplificare, “valebit”; Sapientia, “sia”; and many other cases. 80. Locutus est Daniel, “flammam”; Aedificavit, “exaltamini”; Omnis populus, “laudes.” 81. Sapientia, “laudabimus”; In tempore, “domini”; Formavit, “eius”; Venient, “alleluia.” 82. See online appendix 3b, IV, 4e. 83. See online appendix 3a, XI.0.

Example 4.16.  Melodic relationships between melisma sections a. Alleluia temporibus, melisma on “alleluia,” section 3 (L8, 177)

b. Alleluia prima sabbatorum, melisma on “petro,” sections I and II (L8, 179)

c. In temporibus illis erat, melisma on “vero,” sections I and II (L8, 304)

d. Venite benedicti, melisma on “eram,” sections II and III (L8, 30v)

e. Aedificavit Moyses altare, melisma on “igne,” sections I and II (L8, 163v)

146 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.17.  Standard melisma opening with different closing combinations a. Stans sacerdos, Type 2 cadential melisma on “odorem” (L8, 38)

b. Venite benedicti, Type 1 cadential melisma on “dominus” (L8, 30v)

c. Venient, Type 1 cadential melisma on “haec” (L8, 54v)

the melisma is placed on “haec,” which is usually treated cadentially in chant and verse openings. The choice to set this monosyllable cadentially constrained the composer to choose an ending associated with a Type 3 cadence, here NS + NHL. In these three cases, then, the cadential material is determined in part by where the melisma falls in relation to the end of the clause, and, secondarily, by word accent.84 This is not to imply that melisma endings are predictable, only that they were sometimes guided by the constraints of accent and verbal syntax.

Notational Consistency and Variance In examining cadences earlier in this chapter, I hypothesized that the positioning of neumes in L8 facilitates the recognition of recurring melodic material. Notational habits also underline the structure of melismas and aid in the identification of their constituent parts. These customs are most easily discerned in the melodic repetitions. With some exceptions, each of the four main scribes of L8 tends to write the repeats with similar or identical neumes, size, and 84. For additional examples, see online appendix 4, II and VII.

The Melodic Language placement on the page.85 Example 4.10, examined earlier, is typical: the scribe begins each repeated section by returning to a lower point in the writing space, then placing the following neume at a higher position. Even in the absence of repetition, L8’s scribes tend to distinguish different sections of the melisma visually in this way. In Example 4.11 above, two very similar melismas are written by different scribes in L8. In a departure from usual practice, 4.11a’s scribe has written the two notations of the A section with different arrangements of the middle elements: one vertical, the other horizontal. The scribe of 4.11b has written both A segments in a very similar way to 4.11a’s notation of A1, but adopts a more horizontal arrangement of the B segment. Despite these differences, both scribes have graphically indicated the constituent sections of the melisma. Repetitions can also show notational variants, particularly in parts of the melisma that are not formed from standard material. In Venite benedicti, the melisma on “eram” has a repetition that begins with the fourth neume, resulting in an ABB form (see Example 4.16d).The first three neumes of the repeated B section (in the circles) are a standard opening pattern for melisma sections, and the last three neumes of the melisma form a standard cadential pattern, used both in melismatic and non-​melismatic contexts.86 Both of these standard patterns are written similarly within this melisma and elsewhere in the repertory.87 The shape in the middle of this section, however, is not standard material, and this contour (NHHLH or the compatible NH NLH) is written

the first

in the repetition.The standard, formulaic parts of the melisma are time and written identically, whereas the non-​standard part is variant. A similar combination of notational habit and flexibility is evident in Sicut turris, the single sacrificium that is notated twice in L8, by two different scribes, as shown in Example 4.18.88 Sections B and C of this melisma are stock material.89 In section A, the first three neumes and the last neume are common ways of opening and closing a section (they are used, for example, in Example 4.16a, b, and c above). In this standard material, the two notations have a striking

85. Four principal scribes of L8 are identified in Elsa De Luca’s forthcoming work. 86. See online appendix 3c, XXV.3.c. 87. When two NH signs occur at the opening of a section, the second is typically written higher than the first. The final two neumes, the NH + NLNL, occur frequently as the final neumes of a section (as at one-​syllable cadences), almost always written with the same vertical positioning. 88. These are identified as scribes C and D in Elsa De Luca’s ongoing work. 89. Section B is a standard segment ending, here used as the sole element in the section. On section C, see note 67 above.

147

148 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.18. Two notations of “aurea” melisma in Sicut turris a. L8, 78v

b. L8, 255

similarity in the choice of neume shape, as well as a similar positioning of neumes within the writing space in segment C. The NHL shape in the internal part of section A, however, is not standard, and each scribe notates it with a different choice of neume, as shown in the smaller circles. As these examples suggest, scribal habits tend to be most discernable among frequently used neume combinations, whereas non-​standard elements in the melisma show more variance. The notational consistency of the standard elements exemplifies how notational habits may have facilitated visual recognition of the patterns, prompting the memory of the standard melodic material associated with the neumes.

Between Cadences and Melismas: Openings and Internal Parts of Phrases Thus far, the analysis of cadences and melismas has shown that standard material in the sacrificia is associated with particular contexts, allowing us to define aspects of the genre’s melodic grammar. Given the singers’ tendency to divide the texts into small units, cadences and melismas comprise much of the melodic material in the sacrificia. What happens leading up to these points, however, is more difficult to define. As illustrated by Venite benedicti (Example 4.1), the non-​cadential or non-​melismatic material in a phrase usually comprises two to six textual syllables, with three to four being the norm.These syllables, typically accommodated with between one and five notes each, lack discernable patterns

The Melodic Language of the sort that Don Randel has demonstrated in the responsorial psalm tones.90 The absence of pitch and distinctive notational groupings leaves the analyst with few clues to what is happening here. Common strategies for opening phrases are nonetheless discernable in some cases, as are consistent treatments of accent within some melodies.We also find recurring neume strings that suggest melodic repetition and recurrence. These phenomena are not discernable in all chants or in each phrase. When present, however, they yield insights into the working of the melodies at these points.The following section examines phrase openings and the treatment of the middle of the phrase, considering sensitivity to accent and word boundaries. As with other aspects of the repertory, variety is a predominant characteristic.

Chant and Phrase Openings Although the approach to phrase openings appears to have been extremely flexible, the sacrificia tend to employ particular contours and neume forms at these points. These include this form of NHH

, two forms of NHL,

and , a series of angular NHs, and various repeated-​note neumes. A non-​exhaustive sampling of phrase opening strategies that recur in multiple chants, based on a survey of about 20 percent of the repertory, is given in online appendix 7. As with cadences, it is helpful to distinguish between melodic contours and strategies, because these opening neumes can be used in a variety of ways. NHH, for example, can occur either on the first syllable of a phrase, on the first accent, or, occasionally, on an unaccented syllable near the beginning. Repeated-​note gestures, too, differ in their degree of accent sensitivity, corresponding proportionally to those defined in other genres.91 Despite their brevity, these opening elements occur often enough to establish them securely as part of the melodic language. Like cadences, they tend to be used multiple times within a chant. In some sacrificia, nearly every phrase opening uses one of these strategies. Some of them occur as openings in L8’s responsory verse tones studied by Randel, strengthening our understanding of their function as opening elements.92 The use of a single distinctive neume shape, however, is not enough similarity to suggest commonality of pitch. While these openings may

90. Randel, The Responsorial Psalm Tones for the Mozarabic Office. 91. Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant.” 92. Randel, The Responsorial Psalm Tones for the Mozarabic Office. For more on phrase openings, see Hornby, Ihnat, Maloy, and Rojo-​Carillo, Liturgical and Musical Culture.

149

150 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.19.  Common phrase opening shapes in Locutus est Daniel, sections I and II (L8, 96)

well have contained different intervallic content, they at least point to common gestural strategies at work at the opening of a chant or phrase. We can gain further insight into how the melodies worked by examining the use and distribution of these opening strategies. Nearly all the sacrificia use the same opening strategy more than once, and in many cases, multiple successive phrases begin the same way. In Locutus est Daniel (Example 4.19), every phrase opening circled is shared with at least one other sacrificium in the sampling, and most are also repeated within this chant.The multiple use of these opening formulas within the same chant may have helped to lend modal coherence to the melodies, though we cannot confirm this.

Mid-​phrase Neumatic Declamation Because strategies for accommodating the textual syllables between openings and cadences vary greatly between chants, it is impossible to make observations

The Melodic Language Example 4.20.  Accented syllables beginning with upward motion in Isti sunt dies quos, sections I and II (L8, 144)

that are valid for all chants. In some internal phrases, accent and word boundaries shape the melodic contour. In Isti sunt dies quos (Example 4.20), for example, sections I  and II have forty-​one syllables that are the primary accent of a word. Excluding the two with melismas, most begin either with upward motion or with a repeated note followed by upward motion, as shown in circles. Only three primary accents begin with downward motion. Twenty-​five of the accented syllables, moreover, contain no downward motion at all. Within a chant, the same neumes are often used more than once to accommodate an accent, as the repeated numbers in this example show. Two of the neumes used in this context in Isti sunt dies quos, those labeled 4 and 5, are associated (though not exclusively) with accented syllables across multiple chants. In some sacrificia, final syllables of words are accommodated with specific neume shapes, used repeatedly in this position within a chant or section. Some of the neumes that define word boundaries, such as NLHL, as noted above, occur on final syllables in cadential contexts. Others, however, are also found in contexts that are clearly non-​cadential. As with opening formulas, these tend to , for example, be used repeatedly within the same chant. This sign for NSH, though often used as a phrase opening, also appears frequently on final syllables of words in some chants, marking word boundaries; chants that use this neume in this way tend to do so repeatedly within a chant. In section II of Offerte domino holocausta, for example, this sign appears five times on the final syllables of words, and only in this position. This shape serves this function across multiple chants.93 In rare cases, the patterns established within a chant 93. For further examples: five times in Alleluia prima III, three of which are in close succession “quaeritis Nazarenum crucifixum.”

151

152 Songs of Sacrifice do not extend across multiple chants. In Locutus est David II, for example, the occurs on the final syllable of the first word, then is used in rare neume this position twice more in the same section, but we do not find it often in the repertory as a whole. Accent-​neutral melodic material in the middle of a phrase can also be clustered within a particular chant, sometimes implying the kind of elaborate recitation we find in Franco-​Roman offertories or responsories.94 In Stetit angelus I (Example 4.21), many syllables are accommodated with particular sequences of two or three neumes that are not common elsewhere in the repertory, all involving note repetition.95 In this case, the patterns are not correlated with accent.

Melodic Repetition Prompted by Textual Parallels In addition to recurring cadential formulas, openings, and short neume patterns, most sacrificia contain strings of repeated neumes that constitute whole or partial phrases.96 While melodic repetition as a rhetorical device will receive further discussion in Chapter  5, it is worth attention here for the insight it yields into how aural aspects of the text could guide melodic composition. Very often, such repetition occurs in conjunction with aural similarities in the text, such as accent pattern (particularly at the end of a clause),97 word boundaries,98 assonance,99 or the same words.100 Although it is possible to interpret 94. Maloy, Inside the Offertory, 90–​100. 95. Though they do appear near the beginning of Aedificavit Salomon, on “domum nomini.” 96. Nadeau, “ ‘Pro sonorum diversitate vel novitate’ ” also discusses repetition. See 124–​60, and his discussion of sacrificia, 212–​39. 97. Dominus Ihesus, “hic est enim” and “promulistis”; “[car] men musicum” and “sanctuario”; Quid dignum, “ut facias” and “sollicite”; Elevavit sacerdos III, “omnem populum” echoed at “qui constituit” and “eos ingemuit” (the latter two, but not the first, involving assonance). Formavit II, “paradisum voluntatis” and “in Eden orientem.” 98. The following examples involve both accent and word boundaries: Apparebit, “ad misericordiam” and “et multiplicaberis”; Haec dicit formans I, “formans te” and “[auxili]ator tuus” (“tuus” is treated as a monosyllable); Stetit, “supra thonum” and “aram dei”; Stetit III, “medio throni” and “oculos septem”; Vidi, “vidi caelo turba, salus deo nostro”; Aedificavit Noe I and III, “noe alta[re], ave mun[da], deus no[e]‌” (then repeated in the dissimilar “vester hoc tremor”). 99. Venite benedicti, “supra sedem” and “ante eum”; Circuibo I and II, “immolabo” and “cantabo”; Aspexi III, “lana munda” and “flammam ignis”; Sacerdos Zacharias III, “iusti ambo” and “spiritu sancto”; Locutus est David I, “in canticiis” and “et cymbalis”; Ingressus est . . . in domus Petri, “exiebant,” “adducebant,” and “glorificabant”; Omnis populus, “et ramis” and “in hymnis”; Elevavit sacerdos III, “qui constituit” and “eos ingenuit.” 100. Aedificavit Salomon I and II, “in conspectum dominum” and “in conspectu meo”; Sollemnem I and II, varied repetition on “fructum holocausta” and “fructus meos”; Melchisedec II, “et vide” and “quam vides.”

The Melodic Language Example 4.21.  Stetit angelus, repetition of small neume patterns in section I (L8, 194v)

these repetitions as rhetorical devices drawing attention to aural similarities between different parts of the text, the repeated material is usually brief, consisting of two to five syllables. Because of its brevity, this type of repetition is perhaps better conceived as “thrift”: verbatim repetitions of the same contours with words that sound similar may have been motivated by expediency rather than a mindful melodic shaping of the text.101 These instances of verbal parallelism were not always marked by the same music. In Averte, for example, an identical series of neumes is repeated in close succession at “peccatis meis” and “iniquitates meas,” putatively underlining a semantic relationship between the two clauses in the sentence (“Lord turn your face from my sins and blot out my iniquities”), but the ending of the phrase, and thus the treatment of the personal pronoun, is different in each case.102 As two similar passages from Omnes viri (Example 4.22) illustrate, textual accent and syntax could influence whether melodic repetition was exact and how it might vary. The penultimate phrase of the chant has a melodic parallel with an earlier phrase that extends over six syllables, evidently prompted by a textual parallel (“habitationes tuae/​sanctificatione tua”). In both cases, the main accent and subsequent syllable of “habitatiónes” and “sanctificatióne” are treated the same way, indicating the importance of accent. The initial rise for each word, however, is accent-​neutral, appearing on the first syllable of “habitationes,” a secondary accent, but on the second syllable of “sanctificatione.” Literal repetition, then, seems to predominate in the placement of the

101. Repetitions in conjunction with aural aspects of the text are also a feature of Old Roman chant. See especially Max Haas, Mündliche Überlieferung und altrömischer Choral: Historische und analytische computergestützte Untersuchungen (Bern: Peter Lang, 1997), 121–​32. 102. Nadeau analyzes a different version of this chant in “ ‘Pro sonorum diversitate vel novitate’,” 152 and 207–​12.

153

154 Songs of Sacrifice Example 4.22.  Repeated passage in Omnes viri, III (L8, 34)

initial rise, appearing on the fourth syllable before the main accent in both phrases. The two parallel phrases of Omnes viri end differently, resulting in a different melody for the pronouns “tuae” and “tua.” Here, textual syntax and standard cadential strategies have taken precedence over the verbal parallelism. “Habitationes tuae” constitutes the end of the verbal clause, requiring a cadence. The Type 2 cadential formula employed here is strongly associated with paroxytones (30/​32 times in the sacrificia).103 “Sanctificatione tua,” by contrast, comes in the middle of a verbal clause, requiring additional melody to accommodate the syllables before the cadence.This time, “tua” is not cadential, as it was in the earlier phrase. Instead, it receives a repeat of the neumes that were on the previous two syllables. The ending of the clause with the proparoxytone “domine,” moreover, all but precludes a repetition of the cadence from the earlier passage, and a Type 3 cadence is chosen instead. In this short passage, then, we can see several factors at play in the compositional choices. The aural similarity between the two phrases results in the initial choice of the same melody, with literal repetition at the beginning of the phrase and the same placement of the main accent on the parallel words “habitationes” and “sanctificatione.” At the end of the phrase, however, verbal syntax and accent pattern have taken precedence, resulting in different melodic choices.

103. See online appendix 3b, IV.4e.

The Melodic Language In summary, these repeated elements show that within a piece, the singers often responded to aural features of the text such as accent pattern, word boundaries, and assonance by using the same music. With a few exceptions, however, we rarely find these responses to verbal parallelism across multiple chants.104 Indeed, as Nadeau has noted, many opportunities for such parallelism are passed up.105

Repetition with Formal Implications Despite their melodic variety, a few sacrificia contain extensive repetitions of material that lend formal structure beyond the verse-​repetendum form. In Offerte domino mundum and Ecce agnus, each section besides the first is a varied repetition of the same material.106 The resulting form is similar to that of the Franco-​Roman tract, but with repetenda. Even these chants, however, exemplify the compositional variety of the repertory. In Offerte II and III, the repetition is accent-​sensitive:  the same material falls on accented and unaccented syllables in both sections, with accommodations for length. In Ecce agnus, however, the distribution of the material does not appear to be sensitive to accent in any respect.107 Some sacrificia display a more limited kind of structural repetition, employing, for example, the same material at the end of the second and third sections,108 or at the beginning of more than one section.109

104. Exceptions include Sanctificavit Moyses altare and Aedificavit Moyses altare, which have the same opening melody. The three chants that begin “haec dicit dominus” have different melismas on “haec,” but “dicit dominus” is the same in Haec dicit . . . effundam and Haec dicit dabo.Venient II and Offerte sacerdotes III each open with “haec dicit dominus,” and have nearly identical melismas on “haec.” Stetit III and Aspexi III have the same melisma on the word “medio.” Similar accent patterns in Haec dicit dabo I, “benedicetur” and Aedificavit Salomon, “[Ingredi]entes templum” mirror the melodic repetition. 105. For example, in the sacrificia, Regnabit and Ecce ostendit have sections that begin with the words “haec dicit dominus,” with different melodies from the two examples listed in note 104. The words “odorem suavitatis” occur many times in the repertory (as discussed in Chapter 2) but never with the same music. 106. On Offerte domino mundum, see Chapter 6, pp. 237–39. 107. A third example is Exaudiat nos, written into the margins by a later scribe. Sections I and II share substantial material, reused in a way that is accent-​sensitive. 108. The following have identical or very similar melismas at the end of II and III: Averte, Sacrificium deo spiritus (sections II–​IV), Multiplicavit, Sollemnem habeatis, Sacerdos Zacharias. 109. Offerte sacerdotes II and III; Omnes viri I and III; Mirabilis II and III; Circuibo II and III; Elevavit sacerdos. Serviamus has very similar openings in I and II.

155

156 Songs of Sacrifice Repetition of Melismatic Material In addition to cadences and openings, melismas are a common locus for melodic repetition. Short melismas can recur within a chant,110 occasionally coinciding with the kinds of verbal parallels described above.111 Long melismas, as noted, seldom recur in their entirety within a chant. Instead, we find a more inventive process of varied repetition, in which parts of a melisma reappear in new melismatic contexts. The resulting blend of variety and repetition takes myriad forms. The reused material can occur at the opening, closing, or middle of the melisma, and at any point within the sacrificium. Parvulus II and III, for example, begin with a long melisma over the word “alleluia,” sharing six neumes (18 notes) but varying at the beginning;112 the opening material of IV incorporates three neumes (11 notes) from the middle of the second alleluia.113 In Haec dicit . . . formans, by contrast, the melismas over “germinavit” and “fluentes” begin with the same twenty-​eight notes, then are varied.114 Sometimes the varied repetition marks structural points such as the beginning or ends of sections. Venient III, for example, ends with a varied form of the melisma that ended II (see page 156), and the closing melisma of Erit hic III begins like that of II, but is then greatly expanded. In Alleluia prima, the opening melisma of II shares its closing material with the end of I.115 In addition to providing musical cohesion, these interrelationships between melismas can play a role in the music-​text rhetoric, as I argue in Chapter 5.

Conclusions Through the analysis presented here, the sacrificium has emerged as a genre in which each chant is uniquely constructed from a common melodic vocabulary. We can thus posit a compositional process in which the individuality of each melody was a high priority, yet the singers also called upon standard formulas

110. For example (excluding common cadential melismas), the following short melismas are identical or very similar: Venite, “dominus” and “congregabuntur”; Suscipe, “domine” and “tuorum” ’ Formavit, “dominus” and “soporem”; Sanctificavit, “ascendit” and “descendit.” 111. For example, in Ingressus  .  .  .  Petri, the same melisma occurs on “exiebant” and “adducebant,” and is partly incorporated into the longer melisma on “curebant,” underlining their assonance and grammatical parallelism. 112. A similiar technique is found in Dominus Ihesus . . . misit III (“novissime” and “peccatorum”) and Ego dominus I (“deo” and “alleluia”). 113. For a similar case, see Haec dicit . . . qui erat, “gloria” and “alleluia.” 114. See Example 5.7 in Chapter 5. In A 30, the two melismas are identical, without the expansion in the repetition. See Chapter 6, Example 6.5. 115. See also Audi Israhel preceptum, where the opening melisma of II closes with an internal section of the end of I.

The Melodic Language to mark particular points in the melody, especially beginnings and endings of phrases. This analysis has also unveiled certain principles of melodic grammar, in which standard ways of opening and closing a phrase are sometimes closely tied to aspects of the text. The choice of cadential patterns, in particular, could be influenced by accent. Melismas, too, are often formed from standard material that has specific functions in the melodic syntax, put together in varying ways. In their individual way of using standard material, the sacrificia are much like their counterparts in the Franco-​Roman tradition, contrasting with the longer formulas, often comprising a whole phrase, that are so prevalent in the Old Roman offertories.116 Through a consistent use of particular neume shapes and combinations in the same formal or verbal contexts, the notation helps to convey this grammar and prompt the recall of particular melodic formulas. To varying degrees, most sacrificia have recurring neume patterns that imply the repetition or recurrence of melody within the chant. Some of these repetitions can be conceived as a means of melodic coherence or as enhancements of the textual rhetoric (the focus of Chapter  5). Others are perhaps better viewed within the paradigm of “thrift”: Once the choice had been made to use a particular melodic element, such as a phrase opening or cadence, that element was often reused, particularly in the longer sacrificia. The reuse of non-​cadential material was most likely to occur in conjunction with aural parallels in the text, such as assonance or accent, suggesting that a similar text cued a melodic repetition. The same trend has been observed in many other chant repertories. For chant scholars, thrift will bring to mind the oral transmission hypothesis in which a system of rules, customs, and verbal cues serve as a support for memory.117 This kind of process, however, has been hypothesized mainly with reference to formulaic chants such as the Gregorian tracts, which consist almost entirely of melodic formulas, adapted to different textual conditions such as text length and accent.118 Taken in its most literal reading,

116. The melodic parallels to Franco-​Roman chant are further explored in Chapter 7. On the Old Roman Offertory Formulas, see Joseph Dyer, “‘Tropis semper variantibus’: Compositional Strategies in the Offertories of Old Roman Chant,” Early Music History 17 (1998): 1–​60; and Rebecca Maloy, Inside the Offertory: Aspects of Chronology and Transmission (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 88–​103. 117. Leo Treitler,“Homer and Gregory: The Transmission of Epic Poetry and Plainchant,” Musical Quarterly 60, no. 3 (1974): 333–​72. See the other articles on this subject compiled in Leo Treitler, With Voice and Pen:  Coming to Know Medieval Song and How It Was Made (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). 118. See, inter alia, Edward Nowacki, “Text Declamation as a Determinant of Melodic Form in the Old Roman Eighth-​Mode Tracts,” Early Music History 6 (1986): 193–​226; Emma Hornby, Gregorian and Old Roman Eighth-​Mode Tracts: A Case Study in the Transmission of Western Chant (Burlington:  Ashgate, 2002); Kate Helsen, “The Great Responsories of the Divine Office: Aspects of Structure and Transmission” (PhD thesis, Regensburg University, 2008).

157

158 Songs of Sacrifice the “oral-​formulaic” theory alone does not fully account for the composition of individual melodies like the sacrificia, which comprise much of the Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman chant repertories.119 Rather, we can envision the making of these chants as process in which elements of thrift entered into the creation of individual melodies. “Formulaic” and “non-​formulaic” are thus points on a spectrum. In Chapter 3, I showed that the texts of the sacrificia are carefully constructed to foster a particular understanding of the Old Testament. The individuality of the melodies underlines the importance of these texts by providing a distinctive reading and experience of each. Formulaic and non-​formulaic elements each play important roles in molding this experience. Cadential and opening formulas, recognizable as such to listeners steeped in the tradition, clarified the syntactical structure of the text.The individual traits of each melody, such as the placement of cadences and melismas, highlight aspects of semantic meaning, as I show in Chapter 5. This kind of connection between text and melody was a fundamental principle of many Old Hispanic chant genres, and is maintained in variant versions of the melodies (see Chapter 6).The careful melodic shaping of each individual text, coupled with the chant’s role in the Visigothic cultural program, helps to explain the value the singers placed on melodic individuality.

119. The “oral-​formulaic” theory has not been claimed as an exclusive model for oral transmission, and indeed, best applies to melodies based on “melodic types.”Treitler proposed a more individual transmission for these melodies, too, at a certain stage: “. . . by the time of writing the melodies were being transmitted as individual melodies, not as concrete instances of melodic types; that a degree of standardization and individuation of the repertory had taken place; that the model for each performance was a particular plainchant, not the principles of a melodic type.” With Voice and Pen, 181.

5

Sounding Prophecy Words and Music in the Sacrificia The custom of singing was instituted in the church for the carnal ones, not the spiritual ones, so that those who are not inspired to compunction by words would be moved by sweet melodies. . . . For our souls are more religiously and ardently moved toward the flame of piety through these sacred words when they are sung than when they are not sung. For I know not by what mysterious intimacy our emotions are excited by the diversity or novelty of sounds when they are sung by a sweet and skilled voice.1

I

n this passage of De ecclesiasticis officiis, Isidore turns decisively away from Augustinian ambivalence about the pleasures of liturgical music.2 Embracing the beauty of melody, he invokes its capacity to inspire devotion in weaker souls who would not be moved by words alone. Although he is normally an eager purveyor of knowledge, Isidore shies away from explaining music’s potency. Quoting Augustine, he attributes it to a “mysterious intimacy” (occulta familiaritate) that he claims not to understand. In his own words, he alludes to the special role of skilled singers in eliciting emotions. In Isidore’s time, the senses were understood as making an imprint on the memory, producing an image that could form and transform the mind.3 Read in this light, Isidore’s words

1. Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis officiis I.v; CCSL 113, 6. 2. Emma Hornby, “Musical Values and Practice in Old Hispanic Chant,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 69 (2016): 623–​25. 3. Carol Harrison, The Art of Listening in the Early Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 61–​83. Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

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Songs of Sacrifice imply that beautiful melody, sung by a skilled voice, could imprint sacred words differently from the spoken word. In this chapter, I argue that some of liturgical chant’s emotional power can be located in the rhetorical way it structures the delivery of text. In the sacrificia, it often does so in ways that are inextricably connected to the underlying textual meanings examined in Chapter 3. Building on the understanding of texts and melodies established thus far, we can discern how eloquently the melodies responded to the content of the texts, facilitating their internalization and impressing them into the souls of attentive listeners. It has become an axiom in scholarship that chant melodies neither express emotion nor respond to textual meaning.4 Indeed, they do not often do so in the ways that later music has conditioned us to expect. Obvious “word painting,” for example, is rare.5 All chant melodies, moreover, have facets of their logic that are determined by musical structure and/​or verbal syntax. The sacrificia are no exception. As demonstrated in Chapter 4, melismas can delineate structural points in a chant, such as beginnings and endings of sections, a matter of purely musical rhetoric, rather than highlighting specific words. I argue here, however, that chant melodies can relate to textual meaning beyond the ways envisaged by the traditional perspectives, consistent with a small body of recent work on other chant repertories.6 The sacrificia frontally contradict the notion that the word-​music relationship in chant is “not a matter of individual creative attention so much as of

4. On the historiography of this view, see Daniel J. DiCenso, “Moved by Music: Problems in Approaching Emotional Expression in Gregorian Chant,” in Emotion and Medieval Textual Media, ed. Mary Flannery (Turnhout:  Brepols, 2018), 19–50. Willi Apel, Gregorian Chant (Bloomington:  Indiana University Press, 1958), 301–​ 4, was a leading proponent of the position against text expression, but he gives examples of earlier scholars who had found word painting in Gregorian chant. Other voices against such expression have been John Stevens, Words and Music in the Middle Ages:  Song, Narrative, Dance, and Drama, 1050–​1350 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988), 268–​99; and Richard Crocker, “Gregorian Studies in the 21st Century,” Plainsong and Medieval Music 4 (1995): 33–​86. 5. Apel, Gregorian Chant,  303–​4. 6. For positive evidence of “textual expression,” Susan Rankin, “Carolingian Music,” in Carolingian Culture:  Emulation and Innovation, ed. Rosamund McKitterick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 274–​316; William Mahrt, “Word-​Painting and Formulaic Chant,” in Cum angelis canere: Essays on Sacred Music and Pastoral Liturgy in Honour of Richard J. Schuler, 1920–​1990, ed. Robert A. Skerris (St. Paul, MN: Catholic Church Music Associates, 1990); Emma Hornby, Medieval Liturgical Chant and Patristic Exegesis: Words and Music in the Second-​Mode Tracts (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2009); Rebecca Maloy, Inside the Offertory:  Aspects of Chronology and Transmission (New  York:  Oxford University Press, 2010), 139–​46; Hornby and Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants: Psalmi, Threni and the Easter Vigil Canticles.

Sounding Prophecy convention.”7 The extent of this creative attention, however, becomes discernable only through considering the text itself within the broader contexts examined in Chapter 3: the occasion on which it was sung, the meanings it is likely to have had in the Iberian Christian textual culture, and the reworking of the biblical source. This holistic approach holds the most promise for proposing, in Don Randel’s words, “a hypothesis concerning aesthetic value” for the Old Hispanic chant.8 Building on the understanding of the texts and music established in Chapters 3 and 4, I argue here that the Old Hispanic melodies underline textual semantics in a variety of ways, often working in tandem with the rhetoric already inherent in the text. Standard cadences and melismas of varying lengths create changes in pacing of the text delivery. Together with melodic repetition and recurrence, these pacing changes molded the listeners’ understanding of the text, often drawing attention to images that were central to its typological meaning or liturgical role.

Methodological Case Studies: ecce ostendit and venient To illustrate this symbiosis of text and melody, let us consider the settings of two Advent texts examined in Chapter 3. As noted there, Ecce ostendit draws from passages of Zechariah and other bits of scripture to create a new text that stresses the fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophecy in the coming of Christ (see Table  3.2, p.  75–76). An extensive reworking of scripture creates verbal links between the three sections of the chant, each referring to God’s intentions to save his people. The phrase “my people” occurs four times, and two of these iterations arose through the reworking of scripture. The text compiler reworked the biblical imagery in this way to highlight the theme of realized prophecy. A close analysis of the melodic setting (Example 5.1) reveals that it complements the same themes that are emphasized through the textual modifications. The norm for textual pacing in this chant is one to five notes per syllable, with up to twelve at cadences. Departures from this pacing come mostly at expected places: three of the nine long melismas are on “alleluia,” which usually occasions a melisma, and one is on the “haec” of “haec dicit dominus,” a common rhetorical strategy that sets up direct quotation. In typical fashion, long 7. Stevens, Words and Music, 279. On Old Hispanic chants as the creations of individuals, see Don M. Randel, “Las formas musicales del canto viejo-​hispánico,” in El canto mozárabe y su entorno: Estudios sobre la música de la liturgía viejo hispánica (Madrid: Sociedad Española de Musicología, 2013), 84–​94. 8. Don M. Randel, “The Old Hispanic Rite as Evidence for the Earliest Forms of the Western Christian Liturgies,” Revista de Musicología 16 (1994): 491–​96; at 495.

161

162

Songs of Sacrifice Example 5.1.  Ecce ostendit (L8, 42)

melismas also fall within a few syllables of the end of each section, becoming longer in section III. At first glance, then, it would appear that the placement of melismas merely follows the formal conventions of the genre, rather than providing a tailored reading of this particular text. On closer examination, however, several of these melismas coincide with the verbal repetition and with key changes to

Sounding Prophecy the biblical source. In section II, “salvabo eum” (box 1)  is a departure from the Zechariah text, echoing God’s promise of salvation that was stated at the end of the previous section. The resulting parallelism between the two sections stresses a key theme of Advent:  the coming fulfillment of Zechariah’s prophecy. “Salvabo eum” ends with a melisma of moderate length, typical for the close of second sections. In section III, the third statement of the same idea, “salvabo populum meum,” is stressed further: it begins with a forty-​eight-​note cadential melisma on “salvabo” (box 2), which was undoubtedly followed by an in-​breath.9 The creator of the melody chose this moment for rhetorical heightening: the cadential melisma is placed against the syntax, temporally setting the verb apart from its direct object. As is typical, the final section of the chant is the most melismatic. But the longest melisma is not at the very ending of the chant, as is often the case. Rather, apart from “alleluia,” the longest melisma is on “meus,” marking the end of the words “populus meus” (box 3). The slowing of the textual pacing underlines the same themes that the compiler of the text has stressed through repetition and alteration of the biblical source: the salvation of God’s people. Some melismas and text setting choices in this chant, then, are unexpected. Others, such as that at the close of section II, reflect melodic conventions of the genre, which work in tandem with the text’s structure to highlight specific themes. This case study positions me to introduce a central argument about how melody and text relate in this repertory. Earlier studies of Old Hispanic chant and other plainsong traditions have observed that melismas do not always fall on “important” words, holding this as a standard by which to evaluate relationships between the music and textual semantics.10 In a foundational study of textual pacing in Old Hispanic chant, for example, Nils Nadeau claimed that melismas are not “generally employed semantically” and “do not appear to be used as signposts for important moments in the text, except for alleluias and divine vocatives.”11 Indeed, although melismas can coincide with words that are central to the text’s liturgical use or typological meaning, they do not always do so.12 As demonstrated in Chapter 4, longer melismas can serve as markers of

9. For other examples of this Type 2 cadence, see online appendix 3b, XV. 10. For an earlier view that melismas are associated with important words (though without extensive exploration), see Louis Brou, “L’Alléluia dans la liturgie mozarabe. Étude liturgico-​musicale d’après les manuscrits,” Anuario musical 6 (1951): 45. 11. Nils Nadeau, “ ‘Pro sonorum diversitate vel novitate’,” 181. See also Louis Brou, “Le joyau des antiphonaires latins,” Archivos leoneses:  Revista de estudios y documentación de los reinos hispano-​occidentales 15 (1954): 7–​114; at 19 (contrary to Brou’s findings in the earlier article, n. 10). 12. See also Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants, 94–​114, 165–​237. Emma Hornby, “Musical Values and Practice,” 623–​25.

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Songs of Sacrifice syntactical divisions, such as the ends of sentences, or of musical form, falling at the beginnings and ends of sections.13 Ecce ostendit, however, invites us to expand our conception of how melodic pacing can relate to textual meaning. If held to “melismas on important words” as a sole criterion, Ecce ostendit comes up short: “salvabo” emerges as an “important,” Advent-​flavored word, whereas the melisma-​bearing personal pronouns appear unimportant. I would argue, in contrast, that the melismas on “eum” and “meum” draw attention to these whole clauses. The pause in the flow of text delivery allows a moment of reflection on the text that has just been sung: not just on the pronouns, but on the preceding words, which give them meaning. Both melismas, stressing “salvabo eum” and “salvabo populum meum,” underline God’s people who will be saved, the same theme that was central to the compilation of the text. Reflecting its rhetorical repetition in the text, this image is treated with increasing melodic stress throughout the chant. The melody paces the delivery of this transformed biblical text in ways that draw attention both to its primary message and to the alterations of the biblical source. Although one could see this coinciding of melodic convention and verbal meaning in Ecce ostendit as fortuitous, we find it throughout the repertory, suggesting that it was an important factor in the creation of these chants. Venient ad te, freely adapted from various passages of Isaiah (Example 5.2), has thematic parallelism between the ends of the three sections, similar to Ecce ostendit. Here it is underlined not only with long melismas, but also with varied melodic repetition. As with Ecce ostendit, the reworking of a prophetic text stresses the fulfillment of that prophecy. As noted in Chapter 3, section I ends with the words “you will not be left behind,” the semantic opposite of the biblical “you were left behind” (Isaiah 60:5).The two subsequent sections close with a related idea, invoking God’s “eternal” promise of salvation and mercy: “in aeternum et in seculum seculi” and “sempiterna misertus sum.” In the first of these passages, at the end of section II, the words “et in saeculum saeculi” are not in the biblical source, Isaiah 49:16.14 Rather, they are added to the biblical “in aeternum,” presumably for emphasis.15 Thus God’s promise of salvation, invoked at the end of section I through a change to Isaiah 60:5, is stressed rhetorically, in section II, by the addition of text to Isaiah 49:16. A repetition of the same idea, “sempiterna

13. For a particularly noteworthy example, see In temporibus illis, where long melismas mark the ends of sentences throughout this very long text. See also Hornby and Maloy, “Biblical Commentary in the Old Hispanic Liturgy: A Passiontide Case Study”; and Emma Hornby, “Musical Values and Practice,” 628. 14. It is not clear whether the source is VL or Vulgate, but the words, a reiteration of “in eternum,” are not in either source. 15. “Semper” in the Vulgate.

Sounding Prophecy Example 5.2.  Venient, sections II and III (L8, 54v)

misertus sum” (Isaiah 54:8), is then placed at the end of section III, coinciding with a point that usually occasions a long melisma. These parallels are underlined with melismas and a varied return of melodic material. As shown in Example 5.2, both references to eternity, “saeculi” (section II) and “sempiterna” (section III), are adorned with long melismas. The final melisma, on “misertus sum,” shares substantial material, shown in boxes labeled a, with the “saeculi” melisma, a melodic relationship that underlines the eternity of God’s mercy. This repetition, however, contains an added part in the middle of the melisma (compare the sections marked a1 and a2). Two other varied iterations of this material, labeled a3 and a4, occur as repeated elements in the “sempiterna” melisma. A  common feature of the genre, this varied and expanded reuse of melismatic material creates a melodic connection between “sempiterna” and “saeculi” that correlates with their semantic parallelism. Moreover, in section III, the contrast between “in the moment of my indignation I hid my face from you,” and “in eternal mercy I will be merciful to you” is enacted musically. In the first clause, shown in brackets (beginning at “momento”) most syllables have between one to five notes, the longest being eleven at the cadential pause on “meae.” The words “momento indignationis,” in fact, have a single note on the majority of syllables.The second clause, beginning “et in misericordia,” stands out in contrast, with melismas of 108 and

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Songs of Sacrifice 50 notes, respectively.The melismas musically enact the eternity of God’s mercy, the central theme in the compilation of the text. This examination of Ecce ostendit and Venient provides a model for exploring the role of melody in the delivery of liturgical texts, beginning with an exegetically grounded understanding of that text. We need not find semantic “importance” in every melisma-​bearing word or phrase. The futility of such an exercise would quickly emerge. Each sacrificium melody, moreover, is unique, and not all have a discernable connection to semantic meaning.As these examples show, the diversity of the repertory requires us to approach each chant without preconceived notions about how text and melody ought to relate. Through reading whole melodies in conjunction with their texts, we can pinpoint moments in which the melodies and texts work together to underline certain themes, and we come to discern strategies though which the creators of the melodies accomplished this. It is paradoxical to see textual pacing as being tied to semantic meaning. Shorter melismas may linger over particular words as a means of emphasis. The longer the textless music lasts, however, the more likely listeners are to forget the text and turn attention toward the purely musical logic of the melismas, with their repeat structures and sectionalization. Textless music in late antiquity and the middle ages in fact had connotations of transcending the text. Adapted from the Classical usage meaning “to shout” or “whoop,”16 the words iubilare, iubilum, and iubilatio came to designate the expression of joy through untexted music, inspired by their frequent use in the psalter.17 In Augustine’s formulation, “When they who sing . . . have begun to exult with joy in the words of songs, as if filled with such joy that they are not able to express it with words, they turn from the syllables of words and proceed into the sound of jubilation. The jubilus is a sound that signifies that the heart brings forth what it cannot speak. And to whom is this jubilation fitting, except the ineffable God? For he of whom it is not possible to speak is ineffable.”18 Isidore carries this definition 16. See especially the discussion in J. N. Adams, The Regional Diversification of Latin, 200 bc–​ad 600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 155–​57. 17. See Walter Wiora, “Jubilare sine verbis,” in In Memoriam Jacques Handschin, ed. H. Anglès et  al. (Strasbourg:  P. H.  Heitz, 1962), 39–​65. James W. McKinnon, “Preface to the Study of the Alleluia,” Early Music History 15 (1996): 213–​49. James W. McKinnon, “The Patristic Jubilus and the Alleluia of the Mass,” in Cantus Planus:  Papers Read at the Third Meeting, Tihany, Hungary, 19–​24 September 1988, ed. Lázszló Dobszay (Budapest: Hungarian Academy of Sciences Institute for Musicology, 1990), 61–​70. 18. “Etenim illi qui cantant  .  .  .  cum coeperint in verbis canticorum exultare laetitia, veluti impleti tanta laetitia, ut eam verbis explicare non possint, avertunt se a syllabi verborum et eunt in sonum iubilationis. Iubilum sonus quidam est significans cor parturire quod dicere non potest. Et quem decet ista iubilatio, nisi ineffabilem Deum? Ineffabilis enim est, quem fari non potest.”Augustine, Enarrationes in psalmos, CCSL 38, 254. Similar characterizations of iubilus/​iubilare are often found in Augustine’s sermons: CCSL 38, 161 and 533; CCSL 39, 1374; and CCSL 39, 1394.

Sounding Prophecy into Visigothic Iberia.19 As noted in Chapter 1, jubilation also characterizes the singing of the offertory for Isidore, implying that the offertory in his time incorporated untexted music: “we manifestly jubilate in that true sacrifice by whose blood the world has been saved.”20 These definitions suggest that untexted music within the liturgy was seen as a point where language was surpassed, invoking the transcendence of God. In the sacrificia, as I will show, these pauses in the narrative are often used strategically, appearing at key points. Such transcendence of words seems paradoxical in view of the liturgy’s basis in sacred language. Augustine, in fact, captures this contradiction in an oft-​cited passage from On Christian Doctrine. Although nothing worthy can be said about God, he writes, God nevertheless receives the allegiance of the human voice and wishes us to rejoice in him with our words.21 If the alternation between texted and untexted music in liturgical chant expresses verbal praise and ineffability, the points of contrast between these two styles invite our careful attention. Where does the delivery of text give way to jubilation, and how does this change shape the experience of each liturgical text as a whole? This approach holds more promise than focusing solely on the particular words or phrases attached to melismas. The effect of melismas on one’s experience of a liturgical text depends both upon their length and their placement in relation to the sense of the text. As noted in Chapter 4, the longest melismas are usually found at the ends of verbal sense units, allowing reflection on the text just delivered or drawing attention to the music itself. Melismas of moderate length, however, may fall at the beginning or middle of a sense unit, holding listeners’ attention as they wait for its completion. As noted, the use of melismas is also governed by generic convention, in which each section becomes increasingly melismatic; the longest melismas are typically in final verses. This, too, can intersect in compelling ways with textual meaning. To heighten the rhetoric of the text delivery through changes in pacing, the singers employed a variety of strategies, discernable in the number and length of melismas, their proximity to one another, and where they fall in relation to verbal syntax. The resulting melodies are as unique as the texts. The expressive tools include the placement of cadential melismas against the verbal syntax, sometimes in close succession; the use of melismas to stress particular words; the framing of certain verbal clauses between long melismas; and the use of melodic repetition. The following examples illustrate each of these strategies.

19. “Ubi enim verba sufficiunt laetitiae, et lingua idonea est mentis gaudium explicare, exsultatio est. Ubi vero non potest quisque conceptum gaudium verbis annuntiare, sed ipsam animi effusi laetitiam in vocem quamdam exsultationis erumpit, jubilatio est.” Isidore of Seville, De differentiis verborum I, 134. 20. See discussion in Chapter 1, pp. 20–21. 21. Augustine, De doctrina christiana, I, CCSL 32, 9–​10.

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Working against the Verbal Syntax As noted in Chapter 4, many of the sacrificium texts are divided into small units by the placement of cadences, including short cadential melismas. These typically occur not only at larger breaks, but also before prepositions, relative clauses, and direct quotations. Cadences, however, may also separate units that one might expect to belong together, such as nouns from dependent genitives and direct objects from subjects.The resulting pacing brings to mind a good rhetor engaged in heightened speech: listeners’ attention is held by the temporal separation of the text into small, incomplete units. In some cases, however, longer cadential melismas separate these units. These lengthenings before the completion of the sense, heightening musical rhetoric, most often occur at the beginnings of verbal clauses, and particularly at the beginnings of sections. In the oft-​repeated phrase “haec dicit dominus,” for example, “haec” nearly always has a melisma, often incorporating a Type 3 cadence at the end.22 Words or phrases setting up direct quotation may also occasion a melisma.23 Melismas may also occur on verbs preceding a direct object or between a subject and verb, postponing the completion of the sense. Working against the verbal syntax in this way is a central rhetorical tool of the genre, lending stress to the words and phrases associated with it. We sometimes find it at points of particular liturgical or exegetical importance. In Ecce ostendit (Example 5.1), as noted, “salvabo” is emphasized rhetorically in the text by being temporally separated from its direct object. In other cases, this technique draws attention to images that are central to the liturgical occasion. The Sunday In carnes tollendas, for example, is devoted to aspects of Lent, including a sermon exhorting the congregation to fast. Sung on these days, Multiplicavit (Example 5.3, boxes e and f) also addresses the congregation (often changed from the biblical source),24 first for the Lenten fast, then in anticipation of Easter: “observe the month of the new fruit” and “you will offer a Passover to your God.” A cadential melisma separates “observate” from “mensem” and a non-​cadential melisma separates “immolabitis” from “­pascha,” both stressing the direct address. In some chants, the same device highlights the images of sacrifice, offering, and priesthood on which the genre is based.25 This rhetorical tool need not always be used in conjunction with such obvious semantic cues. It can mark a verb at the beginning of a section, as if drawing 22. Chant or section openings in which these words close with Type 3 cadences: Haec dicit . . . qui erat; Regnabit II; Ecce ostendit II; Venient II; Offerte sacerdotes II. 23. Aedificavit Abraham III, “Abrahae dicens”; In temporibus II, “dicens”; Sanctificavit, “ad Moysen”; Aspexi, “dicentes”; etc. 24. In the opening section, for example, “te” (Deut. 10:22) is changed to “vos,” as an address to the congregation. 25. For example, Multiplicavit, “offerentes/​oblationem”; Sollemnem, “offere/​michi” and “odorem/​suavitatis” (in section II); Omnes populus, “sanctificaverunt/​sacerdotes” and “obtulerunt/​sacrificium”; Venient, “sacerdotes/​tuos”; Stans, “libavit/​de sanguine” and “odorem/​

Sounding Prophecy attention to the musical form.26 At other times, however, it is simply a particular point in the text that was chosen for such emphasis. Many sanctorale texts, for example, are taken from wisdom literature, with lists of various virtues. The delivery is often treated rhetorically, highlighting particular images. In Alleluia oblatio, the words “The Lord will not erase his memory” are emphasized with a melisma between “obliviscetur” and “dominus,” whereas “his wisdom will overflow like a river” is not. One cannot say the first sentence is inherently more “important” than the second, only that the second is where the composer or singer has chosen to place the rhetorical stress. The placement and length of melismas attests to the care with which they were deployed in the service of musical rhetoric: the great majority of melismas that interrupt the flow of the sense are under forty notes, whereas longer melismas typically fall at the ends of sense units. Only rarely do the longest melismas (75+ notes) come before the completion of the sense.These would have stood out as moments where the text was suspended and surpassed in mid-​phrase:  In Easter Sunday’s Alleluia angelus, a 124-​note cadential melisma (Type 3) divides “videte” from “ubi positus erat dominus,” exhorting listeners to ruminate on (“see”) the empty tomb. Another rhetorical tool is the placement of short cadential melismas in succession, often against the syntax, resulting in a pacing that is unexpected even against the generic norm of small syntactical divisions. In these passages, textual elements that belong together, including successive words, are declaimed as separate musical phrases. These passages nearly always mark moments that call for heightened rhetoric, and they sometimes relate to a central liturgical theme. On the Sunday before Lent, Multiplicavit, as noted, addressed the congregation through the Old Testament Law. In the liturgical context, the chant’s words “you will not eat bread or drink wine” (Example 5.3, boxes a–​d) reinforce the message of fasting, which had just been emphasized in the day’s reading (Elijah’s forty-​day fast) and sermon.27 The melismas on the words “panem,” on the first “non,” and on “aquam” (boxes a–​c) are common Type 3 cadences, separating these words from one another, whereas that on the second “non” (box d) is part of a Type 1 cadence. Here it is not the length of melismas that is striking, but the placement of cadential melismas between successive words, temporally separating them. By contrast, the end of the first complete clause, on “commedens,” receives a non-​melismatic Type 1 cadence.

suavitatis”; Aedificavit Salomon, “levaverunt/​sacerdotes” and “intulerunt/​sacerdotes”; Locutus . . . ecce vocavi, “in conspectu/​sacerdotis”; Offerte sacerdotes, “sacerdotum/​meorum.” 26. For example, Locutus est Daniel, “troni/​positi sunt”; Locutus . . .ecce, “praecepit/​dominus”; Apparebit, “dominus/​deus”; Sacerdos Zacharias, “apparuit Zachariariae”; Ego dominus, “vocavit/​dominus”; Iustitiam, “stabit/​dominus”; Accepit, “convocavit/​Moyses”; In temporibus, “convocavit/​servum”; Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum, “precepit/​dominus.” 27. See the discussion in Chapter 3, p. 66.

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Songs of Sacrifice Example 5.3.  Multiplicavit, excerpt from sections I and II (L8, 108v)

a. Type 3: VI, 3b b. Type 3: VII,4 c. Type 3: XI d. Type 1: I, 3a e. Type 2: III, 0 f: non-​ cadential melisma

We find the placement of short melismas between successive words in many other chants. Accepit, sung on Wednesday of Holy Week, is based on the giving of the law to Moses, typologically anticipating the institution of the Eucharist on Holy Thursday. Moses’ words “this is the blood of the covenant” (Exodus 24.8) parallel Jesus’ words at the last supper (“this is my blood of the new covenant”), and this passage (Example 5.4a) is treated in a rhetorically heightened way. “Hic” has a short non-​cadential melisma, and “est” is separated from “sanguis” by a cadential melisma. In Dominus Ihesus . . . misit (Example 5.4b), also sung on Holy Thursday, the words “[I have desired] to eat/​this/​Passover” are similarly separated with cadential melismas. In Locutus est  .  .  .  ecce ego (Example 5.4c), Jesus’ direct address to his disciples to be prudent (section I) and beware (section III) are underlined on the successive words “estote” and “ergo,” and then, with the same melody, on “cavete” and “ergo.” Finally, in Haec dicit formans te (Example 5.4d), the same technique underlines an addition made to the biblical text, presumably for dramatic effect. In most of the chant, the voice of God during Vincent of Saragossa’s martyrdom is represented by the Isaiah source text, but the words “still I shall help you, do not fear” are an insertion to the Isaiah text. They are marked with cadential melismas on “adhuc” and “adiuveris.” In these passages, which depart from the singers’ usual approaches to text declamation, the placement of cadential melismas in close succession drew

Example 5.4. Temporal separation of words a. Accepit (Type 3: VI, 3f) (L8 160v)

b. Dominus Ihesus . . . misit (Type 3: VI, 3b; Type 2: IV, 4c; Type 2: IV, 4) (L8, 162v)

c. Locutus . . . ecce ego Type 2: IX; Type 3: XXVIII, 3b; Type 2: IX; Type 1: IV, 4d (L8, 5)

d. Haec dicit . . . formans (Type 3: VI, 6; Type 3: VI, 3b; Type 1V: B.1) (L8, 99)

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Melismas on Important Words As will be clear by now, the sacrificia provide readings of their texts in ways that extend far beyond the melismatic stressing of particular words. Certain types of words, nonetheless, do tend to carry melismas. Some of these have implications of jubilation, invoking wordless praise or textless music. Melismas are prompted not only by “alleluia,” but also by other words of praising or exulting, such as “laudare,”28 “exultare,”29 and “adorare.”30 Musical images, including references to singing31 and the sound of the sacrificial trumpet,32 are frequently given large melismas, as are other invocations of sound, such as “clamare.”33 As in Venient (Example 5.2), melismas also occur on words associated with the transcendence of time, for example, on “the ages,”34 and “eternal” or “everlasting,”35 enacting jubilation’s connotations of ineffability. As an extension of this principle, the Old Hispanic doxology text beginning “gloria et honor,” used as a closing section in nine sacrificia, sometimes incorporates multiple long melismas in close succession.36 Images of height, such as Mt. Sinai and ascending and descending, are also occasions for melismas, perhaps connecting

28. Examples are followed by the number of notes in León 8: Sapientia, “laudabimus” (26 notes); Ego servus, “laudis” (16); Omnis populus, “laude”  (78). 29. Sicut cedrus, “exultatus sum”; Ego dominus, “exultavit te” (10); Aedificavit Noe, “exaltamini” (30); Stans sacerdos, “exaltatus” (30). 30. Aspexi, “adoraverunt” (15); Melchisedec, “adoravit” (22); Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum, “adoraverunt” (24). 31. Sacerdotes offerunt, “canticiis” (9); Haec dicit dabo, “canticiis” (15); Amplificare oblationem, “organum,” “modos,” and “melos”; Omnis populus, “citharis.” 32. Aedificavit Moyses altare,“tubae”; In medio,“[tuba] canite [in] Syon” (41 + 56); Congregavit David, “bucinae.” (The exception is Accepit, where the trumpet does not receive jubilation.) 33. Stans sacerdos, “exclamaverunt”; In tempore illo, “clamantes”  (15). 34. Regnabit,Venient, Circuibo, Munera, Omnes qui, Sacrificium deo. 35. Regnum,Audi Israhel quia,Aedificavit Salomon,Venient,Aedificavit Moyses altare, Sollemnem. 36. See Munera, Circuibo, Omnes de Saba, and Sacrificium deo. Omnis qui and Regnabit have long melismas on “saecula.”The exceptions are Offerte domino mundum, a short piece with no long melismas, and Ecce agnus, which uses a variant of the same melody for each section.

Sounding Prophecy to the conception of the mountain as the “height of contemplation.”37 Finally, references to the city of Jerusalem (“Jherusalem,” “Sion,” “civitas dei”) often coincide with melismas, particularly when Jerusalem is invoked in its prophetic context, as in the Advent sacrificia Venient and Ecce ostendit.38 Although it is not the most common rhetorical strategy, we also find stress on words that are central to the liturgical occasion, particularly on major feasts. In the last section of the Pentecost sacrificium Dum complerentur (Example 5.5a), for example, the only long melismas fall on the first and last syllables of “spiritu sancto,” framing the image that is most central to the day. In Locutus est . . . amen dico (Example 5.5b), for the Ascension, the act of Jesus’ ascension is emphasized: two successive shorter melismas on “recessit ab eis” (“he receded from them”) are followed by the longest one, on “ferrabatur” (“he was carried away”), and in Alleluia prima for Easter octave, “surrexit” is the occasion for one of the two long melismas. Averte (Mid-​Lent Sunday, Example 5.5d) is one of only two sacrificia to participate in the narrative of personal penitence that dominates liturgies for the first half of Lent,39 and its long melismas stress “I have sinned” and “I have done evil.” In summary, I have identified three musical strategies for stressing short, localized passages of text:  through placing of melismas against the verbal syntax, through the use of cadential melismas in immediate succession, and through the placing of melismas on important words. The effectiveness of the musical rhetoric, however, emerges even more lucidly when we consider how these and other rhetorical tools are employed in the context of whole sacrificia, sometimes highlighting the very point that is the summary of the narrative, the crux of the allegorical meaning, or a semantic change to the biblical source.

Melisma Placement in Context In examining how pacing works in individual melodies, the stylistic norms of the genre must be borne in mind. As noted, each successive section of a sacrificium is typically more melismatic, with the longest melismas in the final section.40 Within this generic norm, the sacrificia are diverse in their degree and

37. On the “height of contemplation,” see Chapter  3, Table  3.5. “Syna” has melismas in Mirabilis and Aedificavit Moyses altare (4 times); “ascendit” or “descendit” in Sanctificavit (twice), Mirabilis; Aedificavit Moyses altare; Aspexi. Images of height: Sollemnem (“altissimo”) and Mirabilis (“altum”). 38. Jerusalem:  Regnabit; Venient; Munera; Haec dicit dabo; Audi Israhel quia; Sacrificium deo. Syon: Venient; Sicut cedrus; In medio; Haec dicit . . . effundam. 39. Hornby and Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants. 40. See discussion in Chapter 4, pp. 133–134.

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Songs of Sacrifice Example 5.5.  Stress on liturgically important words a. Dum complerentur (L8, 210v)

b. Locutus est . . . amen (L8, 201)

c. Alleluia prima Sabbatorum (L8, 190)

d. Averte (L8, 134)

kind of musical rhetoric. In some pieces, periodic melismas become the norm. As one of the longest sacrificia, In temporibus illis has eleven melismas in section II alone, none in close succession, and most coming at the ends of larger textual units. These melismas seem to function primarily as syntactical markers and to add variety to the pacing, rather than highlighting particular moments. Melismas pack more rhetorical punch under certain conditions: when there are fewer of them, sharpening the contrast in pacing; when two or more are placed in close succession; or when they prolong the completion of the textual sense. It is not merely the melismas themselves that function rhetorically, but the contrast in pacing with the surrounding text, which lends it more temporal weight.Thus, the context in which melismas appear becomes an important tool in the musical rhetoric.

Sounding Prophecy The sacrificia are diverse in their approaches to melodic rhetoric, in the kinds of images that are stressed, and the ways they are stressed. Melismas often work with the structure of the text to highlight an image of particular narrative, typological, or dramatic weight. In the narrative texts, this is often a culminating moment or summarizing thought, placed near the end of the chant. Many of these points also coincide with changes to, additions to, or rearrangements of the biblical source. Formavit, which tells the creation story, is almost identical to the Vulgate throughout, with one important difference. In section III, Genesis 2:21 has an excerpt from Genesis 2:18 inserted into it, about the creation of Eve, perhaps incorporated as an explanation of the preceding text, where God takes a portion from Adam’s side (Genesis 2:21).41 The sole long melisma of the chant is placed at the end of this insertion, on “[adiutorem simile] eius.” Examining final sections as a whole reveals how strategically melismas are placed in relation to the text. In Isti sunt dies quos, based on a biblical passage about the observance of the Sabbath, the first melisma occurs on the “haec” of “haec dicit dominus,” following custom, whereas the second stresses the offering imagery, separating the beginning of the sentence, “you will offer,” from the predicate “holocausts in the evening.”The final two melismas frame the closing thought, which is altered from the biblical source. In a typical Christianization, the instructions not to do any work are omitted, and “the Lord God will be merciful to you” is changed to “on that day your savior will be favorable to you to every generation.” With melismas at the beginning and end, this passage is temporally set apart from surrounding text.42 In other cases, long melismas can appear in close succession within a phrase. In Ego dominus creavi, the three long melismas in section III fall within one verbal phrase, stressing the words “flamma te non contaminavit” (Example 5.6a). On the festival of Martin, the highlighted passage recalls the legend that Martin miraculously turned back flames. Some melismas coincide both with changes to the biblical source and with images of particular hermeneutical importance. In Chapter  3, I  examined Ingressus est Daniel as an example of separate biblical passages fused together to create a new text, with a different meaning from the original. The words “close the word and seal the book until the appointed time” (Daniel 12:4) 41. Genesis 2:21 reads, “Immisit ergo Dominus Deus soporem in Adam:  cumque obdormisset, tulit unam de costis eius, et replevit carnem pro ea.” In the chant, the words “et fecit deus adiutorem similem eius” are inserted between “costis eius” and “et replevit.” The source passage is Genesis 2:18, “faciamus ei adjutorium simile sibi.” 42. The closing summary, “your Lord will be favorable to you,” is highlighted in a similar way in Serviamus (the one assigned to Holy Week), with two framing melismas, though it is not changed from the biblical source. In Sanctificavit, the closing phrase “for I am God, showing miracles on earth,” not part of the immediate biblical source, also closes with a long melisma.

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Songs of Sacrifice Example 5.6a.  Ego dominus, section III (L8, 232)

become “close the word and seal the book until Christ the prince arrives” (Daniel 9:24). This change encapsulates both the Christian interpretation of Daniel and the Advent theme of awaiting fulfilled prophecy. It is precisely the end of this clause, on “ducem,” that prompts the single long melisma of this chant, written in the margin (Example 5.6b). In the quotidiano sacrificium Aedificavit Abraham altare, relating Abraham’s near-​sacrifice of Isaac, melismas similarly underline the crux of the story’s Christian meaning, encapsulated at the end of the chant on the words “you have not spared your only son for me.” Patristic writers derived their exegesis of this passage from Romans 8:32: “He did not spare his own son, but delivered him up for us all.”43 In this reading, Abraham is a type of God the father, Isaac of Christ. Isidore builds on this understanding, attesting to its currency on the Iberian Peninsula.44 The melodic setting contains no melismas of over thirty notes until the final verse, precisely on the words “you have not spared your only son for me.” This sentence, seen by patristic exegetes as the key to the text’s typological meaning, is framed by lengthy melismas: forty notes on its first word, “non,” and 132 notes on its last word, “me” (written in the margin), with the form AABBCCDDE (Example 5.6c). Because most text throughout this chant is delivered in the typical neumatic fashion, these words stand out in contrast, set apart temporally from the surrounding text.45 43. For example, Origen, Genesis Homily 8, ed. Baehrens, 77–​86; Augustine, De civitate dei, CCSL 48, 536–​37. 44. Mysticorum expositiones, PL 83, 249–​50. 45. The melisma on “non” is probably best viewed either as an extended cadence (see the discussion of these in Chapter 4, p. 132) or a non-​cadential melisma. The NHL + NHL is a common Type 1 cadence pattern, on the antepenultimate syllable, but here does not lead to a cadence. The melisma on “me” is a Type 3 cadential melisma.

Sounding Prophecy Example 5.6b.  Ingressus est Daniel, section III (L8, 64)

In Multiplicavit, as noted, the celebration of Passover in III (“immolabitis pascha deo vestra”) is marked by a melisma separating “immolabitis” and “pascha,” underlining the typological anticipation of Easter that is the focus of the final verse. The next passage, “neither shall anything remain in the morning of that which was sacrificed in the evening on the first day,” is marked by the longest melisma (notated in the margin) on its final word, “mane.” The contrast between the evening and morning emerges in the exegesis of Passover. In a passage cited in part by Isidore, Cyprian of Carthage stressed that Christ was sacrificed in the evening, “to reveal the evening of the world,” whereas the resurrection was celebrated in the morning.46 Because section III of this chant is devoted to the anticipation of Easter and Pentecost through festival typologies,47 listeners would be primed to hear “mane” as an anticipation of Easter, 46. Cyprian, Epistula 63, 16, CSEL 3, 2, 704. Isidore of Seville, De ecclesiasticis officiis, CCSL 113,  19–​20. 47. See the discussion in Chapter 3, p. 88.

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Songs of Sacrifice Example 5.6c.  Aedificavit Abraham altare (L8, 304v)

the final outcome of the Lenten fast they had been exhorted to observe in the day’s sermon and earlier in the chant. Coming at the end of a sense unit and exhibiting a complex repetition scheme (AABBB1B1C; B and B1 share the last ten notes), this melisma of 165 notes transcends the text at a point that coincides with the crux of the typological meaning. Melismas similarly frame a central typological image in the quotidiano sacrificium Aedificavit Moyes tabernaculum. In the patristic interpretations of this Exodus passage carried forward by Isidore, each of the tabernacle’s physical attributes signifies a different aspect of the church.48 Sections II and III are focused on the cherubim that adorn the ark of the covenant. Of the 48. Mysticorum expositiones, PL 83, cols. 313–​14.

Sounding Prophecy Example 5.6d.  Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum (L8, 306v)

eight melismas of twenty notes or more, five occur before the completion of the sense, all but one separating verbs from subjects or direct objects.49 The two longest melismas occur on “apparebo” and “te” (Example  5.6d), the Lord’s promise to appear and speak to Moses between the Cherubim. For Isidore, this passage refers to typological exegesis:  the Cherubim are the Old and New Testaments, and they face one another because the two testaments concord better when read in the light of one another.50 The essence of the chant’s meaning, of course, lies in this symbiotic reading of the testaments. Aedificavit Moyses altare takes its second and third section from Exodus 19, the giving of the law to Moses on Mt. Sinai. Invoking the Old Covenant at the commemoration of the New Covenant on Holy Thursday, the chant creates a typical interplay between the literal and typological meanings of the story. Section III describes the smoking of Mt. Sinai and a series of vivid images that invoke sound:  thunder, lightning, the sounds of trumpets, and Moses talking to God. The text delivery fully gives way to jubilation in conjunction with three images of particular typological importance: the sound of the trumpet, Mt. Sinai (twice), and fire. Sinai for Isidore, as we have seen, is a type for encountering God in “the height of our contemplation, where we are lifted up to consider those things that are beyond our weakness.”51 The trumpet, often invoked in the sacrificia, represents the voice of proclamation in Isidore’s description of the genre; here it is a foreshadowing of the holy.52 Finally, the fire in which the Lord descends illumines the faithful with its light.53 The words that prompt melismas represent for Isidore various ways that the story was meant to communicate to the gathered faithful through biblical typology.

49. “Thronum/​ubi steterat deus”; “viderunt/​electi”; “precepit/​dominus”; “adoraverunt/​ eum”; and “sacrificabis/​illud.” 50. Mysticorum expositiones, PL 83, col. 312. 51. See discussion in Chapter 3, pp. 82–84. 52. Mysticorum expositiones, PL 83, col. 300. 53. Mysticorum expositiones, PL 83, cols. 300–​1.

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Melodic Repetition and Recurrence Despite the melodic variety of the genre, many sacrificia contain recurring material, as noted in Chapter 4. Some repetition had a principally musical function. Recurring cadential patterns and phrase openings, for example, would have lent modal coherence to the melodies. Moreover, as noted, repeated neume patterns are often associated with verbal parallels, such as assonance and accent pattern, seemingly a matter of compositional thrift rather than an enhancement of rhetoric. Repetition was most likely to shape listeners’ perception of the text among the longer, clearly audible passages of recurring material, such as the full or partial return of longer melismas. These can be moments of purely musical rhetoric, as when two related melismas fall on “alleluia” and the second is expanded. At other times, however, they can intersect with the text delivery in ways that enhance the textual rhetoric. In Haec dicit . . . formans te, the text “and you will sprout forth among grasses like willows next to flowing waters” has related melismas on the two verbs, greatly expanded the second time (Example 5.7a). The “fluentes” melisma begins identically and ends similarly to the “germinavit” melisma, but is expanded with the addition of a lengthy second repeated section in the middle.54 Here, as often, the repetition serves not so much to draw attention to the semantic parallels between two words, but to enhance the rhetorical delivery of this particular clause. One could argue that the recurrence of material heard previously creates an expectation that this melisma will continue as the previous one had; the thwarting of this expectation enhances the effect of the second melisma and the text with which it is associated.55 In Multiplicavit section II, the image of the Lord breaking the tablets in anger is similarly emphasized (Example 5.7b). The long narrative passage between the descent from the mountain and the breaking of the tablets is delivered neumatically, placing into relief the melismas on “montem” and “confregi.”The first section of the “confregi” melisma is identical to that on “montem,” with the same varied repetition, whereas the closing section is completely different. The effect is not to draw a parallel between these two words, but to heighten “confregi.”This word marks a dramatic point in the narrative, and for Isidore, it typologically represents the replacement of the old covenant with the new, the essence of the chant’s meaning.56 54. As shown in Chapter 6, A30 presents a very different reading of these two melismas. 55. For a further example, see the connection between “organum,” “modos,” and “melos” in Amplificare oblationem. 56. Isidore, Mysticorum expositiones, PL 83, cols. 307–​8.

Sounding Prophecy Example 5.7a.  Haec dicit . . . formans, melisma repeated with expansion (L8, 99)

Example 5.7b.  Melodic recurrence in Multiplicavit (L8, 108)

Though evidently not its primary purpose, repetition of material can occur on semantically connected words and ideas. In Locutus  .  .  .  ecce ego (Example  5.3c), successive cadential material underlines Jesus’ direct speech exhorting his disciples, first to be prudent and then to beware of men plotting against them. The identical melodic setting of these two passages reflects their semantic and grammatical parallel (“estote ergo” and “cavete ergo”). In Sollemnem habeatis, recurring material appears in conjunction with three semantically interrelated images, two reflecting exegetical changes made to the biblical source. As noted in Chapter 3, the animal sacrifices in Numbers 28 become “the fruits of the holocaust,” and “my gifts and my fruits.” These images (Example 5.7c) are stressed not only with changes in pacing (among the few in this relatively modest piece), but with two shorter melismas that share substantial material. Such devices can also highlight broader structural or grammatical parallels in a passage of text. In Alleluia temporibus (Example 5.7d), for example, related melismas close the clauses “rise from the dead on the third day” and “to sit in his glory,” both predicates to “it is right that Christ. . . .”This passage, from Luke 24:46 and 24:26, is an insertion into the main source text, Matthew 28, and forms a break in its narrative. The melisma on “sua” incorporates the repeated section from “tertia,” but frames it with a new opening section, also repeated,

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Songs of Sacrifice Example 5.7c.  Repetition of melodic material in Sollemnem habeatis, sections I and II (L8, 178)

Example 5.7d.  Expanded repetition in Alleluia temporibus (L8, 177)

and a standard closing element.57 Both melismas are also connected to the preceding one on “videbunt,” Jesus’ promise that his disciples (and the gathered congregation) will see the risen Christ. All three melismas share the nine-​note formula , commonly used to close melisma sections.58 Immediate repetition of material, in direct or close succession, is rarely discernable among the neumes outside lengthy melismas, and, we might suppose, was effective because of this rarity. In Example 5.4b, Jesus’ words referring to the Last Supper in Holy Thursday’s Dominus Iesus are underlined not only through the placement of cadential melismas in close succession, but also through the use of related melismas on “pascha” and “manducare.” In the opening of Melchisedec (Example 5.7e), the words “rex pacis” have a repetition of the same short melisma. The last two neumes of this melisma form a pattern typically associated with Type 2 cadences, with a single note or rounded pes (NH) on the following syllable. If “rex” and “pacis” indeed have the same 57. This is one of the formulas that serves as a closing element for longer melismas. See comparison in Rebecca Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and Early History of Plainsong,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 67, no. 1 (2014): 20–​24. 58. See Chapter 4, p. 142.

Sounding Prophecy Example 5.7e.  Repetition in Melchisedec (L8, 303v)

Example 5.7f.  Repetition in In medio (L8, 243v)

 

cadential pitch content, as suggested by the identical notation, the repetition would be aurally striking, implying a delayed “resolution” in the cadence. As is so often the case, the melodic emphasis here occurs at a point of intervention in the biblical source. The characterization of Melchizedek as “king of peace” comes not from Genesis 14, the primary source for the chant, but from Hebrews 7:2, which provides the source of Christian exegesis on the Genesis 14 passage. This kind of repetition can also function in a more straightforwardly rhetorical way. In In medio (Example 5.7f), direct speech is highlighted not only by being preceded with a melisma, as often happens, but also by a repetition of the same melisma on the first word of the priests’ speech, asking for pardon.This, too, would have stood out as a striking moment.The cadence on “parce” is then immediately followed by a Type 4 cadence on “domine.” Our final example, Vidi in caelo (Example 5.8), illustrates in a striking way how repetition and lengthening can work together to heighten aspects of a text’s rhetoric. In the example, I  have labeled all identifiable cases of repetition, not all of which are explicitly rhetorical. The recurring cadential material, a common trait of the genre, probably functioned primarily as a means of tonal coherence (see boxes labeled 4 and 5, and box 6, a Type 3 variant of 5).59 The repeated material at “exclamabunt” and “adorabunt” (boxes labeled 3),

59. See Chapter 4, pp. 131–132.

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Songs of Sacrifice Example 5.8.  Vidi in caelo (L8, 203)

moreover, may be better conceptualized as “thrift,” a response to the aural and grammatical parallels between the two passages.60 Other passages, however, heighten a rhetoric already implicit in the text. A central feature of this text, from the Apocalypse, is its repetition of “sedes,” referring to the enthroned Christ and the seats of the ancients. Six of the eight instances of the word “sedes,” “sedentes,” etc. are adorned with melismas, including the final occurrence, with a marginal melisma of 136 notes. Most of these melismas are recognizably cadential, and some separate words that belong together syntactically. “Ecce sedis,” for example, is set apart as a unit from its 60. For further examples, see Chapter 4, pp. 152–54.

Sounding Prophecy predicate “posita erat” (the first box labeled 8). Further, the words “sedem sedentis” (throne of the one seated) are set with a cadential melisma between them (the second box labeled 8), and “sedentes” likewise has a melisma, followed by a Type 3 cadence, that separates it from its subject “seniores” (the first box 9, followed by the Type 3 cadence labeled 4). The cadential melismas placed against the verbal syntax create rhetorical stress on “sedes/​sedentes.” Repetition further enhances the musical rhetoric. The neumes of the opening text, “I saw in heaven a crowd,” are repeated at “salus deo,” the first line of direct speech (following “they cried with a great voice”).61 Nearly every “sedis” melisma, moreover, either links melodically to something heard previously or is repeated later:  the first two statements of “sedes/​sedem” have an identical cadential melisma (boxes labeled 8), the third echoes “dicentem” (boxes labeled 7), and the fourth is repeated, with variation, on “alba” (boxes labeled 9). In the first two cases, the use of previously heard material draws attention to the image of enthronement. The last section of this chant constitutes perhaps the most vivid text setting in the repertory. Related melismas adorn “procedebant” and “tonitrua” (boxes labeled 10a and 10b), the image of thunder proceeding from the throne.Varied repetitions of similar material are then used to form the long melisma on the final “sedis,” written into the margin. (Small variations in the repeated material are indicated by the lowercase letters.) This melisma is placed in the center of a striking image: “And seven torches of burning fire before the throne, which are the seven spirits of God.” Framed between two invocations of the number seven, the “sedis” melisma repeats the material from the earlier melismas seven times, with increased intensity through successive repetitions toward the melisma’s close. The melodic repetition in this chant, sometimes varied, mirrors the textual repetition centered on the throne, and the melismas give added emphasis to that repetition. The culminating, climactic melisma on the final invocation of the throne, riffing seven times on material previously heard in conjunction with the thunder, aurally depicts the seven torches, which are then revealed as being the seven spirits of God that stand before it.

Conclusions Through an integrated reading of text and melody in Old Hispanic chant, we can begin to envisage how Christian souls in early Medieval Iberia were moved, in Isidore’s words, “more religiously and ardently to the flame of piety 61. The notator has not given any neumes for the word “in” at the opening of the chant, and without “in,” “vidi caelo turba” and “salus deo nostro” (shown in boxes labeled 1) have the same accent pattern and word division, and thus this passage may also be seen as an example of thrift.

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Songs of Sacrifice through these sacred words when sung than when they are not sung.” The unity of purpose behind the texts and melodies brings to mind a musical analogy through which Isidore conveys the essence of biblical interpretation. For him, biblical exegesis is a process in which the meanings of obscure passages of scripture, “concealed in mystery,” are elucidated through links to passages with a clearer meaning.62 As shown in Chapter 3, the creators of the sacrificium texts have done just this, fusing Old Testament passages with interjections that reflect their Christian meaning. In the prologue to Mysticorum expositiones, Isidore likens this kind of scriptural exegesis to the production of harmonious sound on the cithara and other stringed instruments. The sweetness of the melody, he writes, depends on where the strings are connected to the body of the instrument and how they are stretched. Once the meanings of diverse passages of scripture are joined together in the manner of the cithara’s strings, each passage can be interpreted to “sound in signification of future things.”63 In the sacrificia, the Old Testament sounds in signification of future (Christian) things through the reworking of its texts, the intertwining of text and melody, and the bringing forward of the Eucharistic bread and wine. The Iberian liturgists saw in liturgical chant an opportunity to create a particular, Christianized experience of the Old Testament, fashioning scripture in ways that fostered the teaching of doctrine, Christian formation, and collective identity. They did so not only through the crafting of texts, but also through melody, strategically deploying a musical tool set to heighten the rhetoric. In so doing, they highlighted images of liturgical or doctrinal importance, as well as changes to or insertions into the biblical text. The surviving Old Hispanic melodies, of course, do not date from the Visigothic period, but rather from the ninth-​and tenth-​century neo-​Visigothic milieu. The melodies of León 8 and the other manuscripts are not direct witnesses to those of seventh-​century Hispania. Rather, they are the products of many generations of oral tradition, followed, most likely, by at least two or three generations of written transmission. Yet it would be implausible to suppose that the ninth-​and tenth-​century cantors created the existing melodies ex nihilo, with no prior foundation. As noted in the Introduction, Christian culture under Islamic rule remained rooted in Visigothic tradition, without widespread disruption of the liturgical practice. Within the existing melodic traditions, 62. Mysticorum expositiones, prologue, 4. PL 83, col. 208. 63. “Sicut enim in citharis, et hujusmodi organis musicis, non quidem omnia quae tanguntur, canorum aliquid resonant, sed tantum chordae, caetera tamen in toto citharae corpore ideo facta sunt, ut esset ubi connecterentur et quo tenderentur illa quae ad cantilenae suavitatem modulaturus est artifex: ita in his propheticis narrationibus quaeque dicuntur aut aliquid sonant in significationem futurorum, aut, si nihil sonant, ad hoc interponuntur, ut sit unde illa significantia tanquam sonantia connectantur.” Mysticorum expositiones preface, PL 83, cols.  208–​9.

Sounding Prophecy however, long melismas, a primary means of musical rhetoric, were the most flexible and least stable part of the melodic tradition, as I show in Chapter 6. Although melismas usually occur in the same places in all versions of a melody, they often vary in structure, length, and melodic detail. What the manuscripts share are common strategies for setting the same text. The best way to view the existing melodies, then, is not as note-​for-​note reflections of Visigothic ones, but as witnesses to the kinds of text-​setting strategies practiced for centuries across a culturally diverse peninsula. These approaches were rooted in a multifaceted understanding of scripture and a desire to imprint its literal and typological meanings into the souls of listeners. Each Sunday and major feast day, at large liturgical centers, seventh-​century Iberian Christians are likely to have stood in the presence of a rich, sophisticated chant tradition, created by the church’s elites to work toward their formation and education. The fact that its melodies are now silent need not lessen our admiration. Through careful analysis, we can gain access to some of their expressive richness.

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The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Aspects of Melodic Transmission

T

he Old Hispanic melodies have rarely been subjected to the kinds of questions that have shaped scholarly thought on Franco-​Roman chant, such as the nature of their oral and written transmission and their formative roles in the existing tradition. By examining the Old Hispanic manuscripts with these questions in mind, we can posit much about the melodies’ history.Thus far, our understanding of the melodies has been based on León 8 (L8). A comparison of other manuscripts with L8 points to a complex, multilayered melodic transmission, involving both oral and written elements. The other manuscripts with sacrificia, copied between the tenth and thirteenth centuries, share principles of melodic grammar and rhetoric with L8. Certain music writing habits, moreover, are common to all early manuscripts, indicating their basis in a shared culture of musical literacy. Certain graphic similarities also point to descent from common exemplars. The melodic tradition is nonetheless far from uniform. While the early manuscripts imply a stable tradition in the tenth and eleventh centuries, it was variant and flexible at certain points. We find a wider range of variation among the late manuscripts from Toledo, associated with the use of the Old Hispanic liturgy in a few Toledan parishes after its suppression elsewhere.These manuscripts preserve two distinct branches of the rite: tradition A is closely connected to the liturgy preserved in the tenth-​ and eleventh-​century manuscripts. In the tradition B manuscripts, only Lent, the beginning of Easter, and a fragmentary portion of the sanctorale survive. In comparison to Tradition A, this material has a different (but overlapping) series of readings, prayers, and chants.1 These liturgical distinctions between the two 1. The traditional characterization of the Toledan manuscripts as preserving two distinct branches of the Old Hispanic rite has recently been challenged by Raquel Rojo-​ Carillo, in “Old Hispanic Chant Manuscripts of Toledo:  Testimonies of a Local or of a Wider Tradition?,” in A Companion to Medieval Toledo: Reconsidering the Canons, ed. Yasmine Beale-​Rivaya and Jason Busic (Leiden:  Brill, 2018), 97–​113. As Rojo-​Carillo noted, some earlier scholarship on the two traditions incorporated the neo-​Mozarabic books created in Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Toledo traditions are reflected in the melodies. Most Toledan tradition A melodies are closely linked to those of the early manuscripts, whereas the tradition B melodies are more distantly related. Certain structural aspects, such as the placement of melismas, were stable throughout the tradition, but surface details were not. To explore these issues, I begin by introducing the manuscripts and types of melodic relationships found among the tenth-​and eleventh-​century northern manuscripts, then proceed to consider each Toledan tradition in relation to these sources.

The Sacrificia in Tenth-​and Eleventh-​Century Manuscripts Nearly all tenth-​and eleventh-​century Old Hispanic manuscripts are from northern Iberia, bordered by León on the West and extending possibly as far east as San Prudencio de Monte Laturce (near modern-​day Logroño). Within these areas, we find two distinct melodic traditions, first identified by Don Randel in the responsory verse tones: León and Rioja.2 Very few of these manuscripts have securely established origins and dates. Only one manuscript of the León tradition, L8, preserves sacrificia. It is both the earliest and the most complete manuscript with sacrificia. Recent studies of L8 place its composition near León, in a monastic context. Current consensus holds that it was copied in the tenth century, with conflicting hypotheses about a more specific date and place.3 Richly illustrated, it later came to belong to the royal chancery of León. the fifteenth century as part of Cisneros’s “restoration” of the Old Hispanic rite, with the assumption that these books were an authentic witness to the Old Hispanic liturgy. I concur that these books cannot be considered uncritically as a witness to Medieval practice. Pace Rojo-​Carillo, however, I  believe the existence of two branches of the rite remains valid solely on the basis of the existing Medieval manuscripts; that is, leaving the neo-​Mozarabic books out of consideration. Differences are in evidence throughout the existing parts of the liturgy. For the chant, the differences are particularly striking in the repertories of Lenten office responsories, many of which circulate in only one of the traditions, and in the prayers associated with these responsories. The melodic differences between traditions A and B are further substantiated in the course of this chapter. 2. Don Michael Randel, The Responsorial Psalm Tones for the Mozarabic Office (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1969). 3. In the forthcoming article “L’Antiphonaire de León: analyse codicologique,” Thomas Deswarte situates the composition of L8 between 917 and 950, at the monastery of San Cipriano del Condado (just outside León). Elsa De Luca has recently placed it between 900 and 906 at the monastery of Abellar, and Díaz y Díaz at a monastery near León in the first third of the tenth century. The differences depend partly on views about L8’s preliminary material (Deswarte considers most of the preliminary folios to be part of the original manuscript, whereas Díaz y Díaz does not); and on how the cryptography and royal monograms (central elements of De Luca’s hypothesis) are employed as chronological evidence. Finally,

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190 Songs of Sacrifice L8 preserves a nearly full repertory of sacrificia, the only lacuna being in the latter part of its quotidiano series.4 Although the Rioja did not emerge as a cohesive region until the late eleventh century, when it was taken over by Alfonso VI of León and Castile,5 the manuscripts from this region, broadly defined, share melodic characteristics that distinguish them from L8, as Randel found.These are evident not only in the responsory verse tones he examined, but also in other formulaic elements, such as cadences and chant openings.6 My analysis confirms these findings: sacrificia that circulate in more than one Rioja manuscript tend to be more closely related to one another than to L8. For this reason, I have retained Randel’s “Rioja” nomenclature. The Rioja manuscripts, however, do show varying degrees of melodic similarity to and difference from L8, indicating a complex transmission that does not break wholly along regional lines.This, too, is consistent with Randel’s findings. The Rioja melodic tradition appears in a diverse group of sources, mostly incomplete, dating from the later tenth and eleventh centuries. (A complete list of manuscripts, with sigla, is given in the Appendix.) Two of these, A30 and A56, were probably copied at San Millán de la Cogolla, about 50 miles west of Burgos. As one of the few manuscripts besides L8 to contain the full versions of sacrificia, the antiphoner A30 preserves the portion of the year ranging from Advent to the beginning of Lent.7 Like many surviving manuscripts, A56 is a Carmen Julia Gutiérrez argues for a mid-​tenth-​century date in a forthcoming publication, and in the paper “Sobre la datación y procedencia del Antifonario de León,” presented at the MedRen 2018 conference in Maynooth, Ireland. Gutiérrez uses some of the same criteria as Deswarte, but also incorporates a study of the illustrations. See Elsa De Luca, “Royal Misattribution: Monograms in the León Antiphoner,” Journal of Medieval Iberian Studies 9 (2017): 25–​51; Elsa De Luca, “Musical Cryptography and the Early History of the ‘León Antiphoner,’” Early Music History 36 (2017): 105–​58; Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “Some Incidental Notes on Music Manuscripts,” in Hispania Vetus:  Musical-​Liturgical Manuscripts from Visigothic Origins to the Franco-​Roman Transition (9th–​12th Centuries), ed. Susana Zapke (Bilbao: Fundación BBVA, 2007), 93–​112. 4. For complete list of sacrificia, showing which are preserved in which manuscripts, see Chapter 1, Tables 1.1, 1.2, and 1.3. Two manuscripts included there, BL44 and BL46, are not considered in this chapter because they lack musical notation. 5. David Peterson, Frontera y lengua en el Alto Ebro siglos VIII–​XI: las consecuencias e implicaciones de la invasión musulmana (Logroño: Instituto de estudios Riojanos, 2009). 6. Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, “Melodic Dialects in Old Hispanic Chant,” Plainsong and Medieval Music 25 (2016): 37–​72. 7. The manuscript is badly damaged, with many lacunas. On A30, see Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, Libros y librerías en la Rioja altomedieval (Logroño:  Instituto de estudios Riojanos, 1991); Susana Zapke, “Notation Systems in the Iberian Peninsula: From Spanish Notations to Aquitainian Notation (9th–​ 12th Centuries),” in Hispania Vetus, ed. Susan Zapke (Bilbao: Fundación BBVA, 2007), 189–​244; Miquel S. Gros i Pujol, “‘El liber misticus de San Millán de la Cogolla: Madrid, Real Academia de la Historia, Aemil. 30,” Miscellànea Litúrgica Catalana 3 (1984): 111–​224.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition liber ordinum, containing rites for special services and thus preserving a more limited repertory. It has been variously dated to the tenth or late-​tenth century.8 BL45, S3, S4, and S6 are among the Rioja manuscripts with sacrificia that found their way to Santo Domingo Abbey at Silos. Nearly all are of uncertain origin. BL45, from the eleventh century and possibly from San Millán, contains sanctorale feasts from summer and early winter.9 A few sacrificia are preserved in S3, an eleventh-​century liber ordinum intended for parish use.10 A larger number appear in S4, an episcopal liber ordinum copied in 1052, possibly at Albelda, San Millán, or San Prudencio de Laturce.11 S6, of unknown origin from the tenth 8. On A56, see Díaz y Díaz, Libros y librerías en la Rioja altomedieval; Agustín Millares Carlo and Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, Corpus de códices visigóticos (Las Palmas de Gran Canaria:  Fundación de Enseñanza Superior a Distancia, 1999); Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes Musicales en España:  Edad Media (Madrid:  Alpuerto, 1980); Zapke, “Notation Systems in the Iberian Peninsula”; Susan Boynton, “A Lost Mozarabic Liturgical Manuscript Rediscovered: New York, Hispanic Society of America B2916 Olim Toledo, Biblioteca Capitular, 33.2,” Traditio 57 (2002): 189–​215; at 191–​92. 9. Agustín Millares Carlo and Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, Corpus de códices visigóticos; José Janini, “‘Officia Silensia:  Liber Misticus, III, Sanctorale (Cod. Londres, British Museum, Add. 30845), Edición y Notas,” Hispania Sacra 31 (1978): 357–​465; Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes Musicales en España; Carmen Gómez Muntané, La Música Medieval en España (Kassel: Reichenberger, 2001); Rose Walker, Views of Transition: Liturgy and Illumination in Medieval Spain (London: British Library and University of Toronto Press, 1998); Zapke, “Notation Systems in the Iberian Peninsula:  From Spanish Notations to Aquitainian Notation (9th–​12th Centuries)”; Susan Boynton, “A Lost Mozarabic Liturgical Manuscript Rediscovered.” 10. Copied by Iohanne presbitero scriptore (f.177r). Janini, in Liber ordinum sacerdotal (cod. Silos, arch. Monástico, 3) (Silos, 1981), 13, wrote that the calendar is from the late tenth century, but more recently scholars have speculated that it may have been copied by the same hand as the first part of the manuscript. See Millares Carlo et al., Corpus de códices visigóticos, 180. The second part of the manuscript is securely dated to 1039 in a colophon, and the final part of the manuscript was dated to the late eleventh century by Pinell, “El Oficio Hispano-​ Visigotico. I. Fuentes,” 394; Janini (Liber ordinum sacerdotal, 13 and 15); González Barrionuevo, “Los codices ‘mozárabes’ del archivo de Silos,” Revista de Musicología 15 (1992): 403–​72; at 422; and W. M. Whitehill and J. Pérez de Urbel, “Los manuscritos del Real Monasterio de Santo Domingo de Silo,” Boletín de la Real Academia de la Historia 95 (1929): 521–​601; at 530. The script of part 3 is differentiated (“Escritura algo más alta y menos regular”), but not given a different dating, in Millares Carlo et al., Corpus, 180. 11. Copied by the priest Bartholomew by order of Abbot Domingo of the monastery of San Prudencio de Laturce, and paid for by Sancho Garceiz and his wife Bizinnina.The place of copying is not specified. Collins argues that S4 was copied in San Millán; Díaz y Díaz preferred an origin in Albelda, and Ruíz Ascensio at San Prudencio. Roger Collins, “Continuity and Loss in Medieval Spanish Culture: The Evidence of MS Silos, Archivo Monástico 4,” in Medieval Iberia: Culture, Conflict, and Coexistence: Studies in Honour of Angus MacKay, ed. Roger Collins and Anthony Goodman (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002), 1–​23; Díaz y Díaz, Libros y librerías en la Rioja altomedieval; José Manuel Ruiz Asencio, “Códices pirenaicos y riojanos en la biblioteca de Silos en el siglo XI,” in Silos. Un Milenio. Actas del Congreso

191

192 Songs of Sacrifice or eleventh century, has separate sections on paper and parchment, which were put together at a later time.12 Among the Rioja manuscripts, S6 often (though not always) presents melodic readings closest to those of León 8. Two sacrificia are preserved in the fragment M​418, copied in the tenth or eleventh century near Nájera.13 Finally, one of our chants appears in the fragmentary BL95, from the eleventh century and of unknown origin.14

Melodic Transmission in the Tenth-​and Eleventh-​Century Manuscripts The sacrificia in the early manuscripts exhibit a diverse array of relationships. Many are nearly identical from source to source, some evince a less stable transmission, and a handful have entirely or mostly different melodies. This blend of fixity and variance can tell us much about the tradition’s history and transmission. Notational aspects of these manuscripts, in particular, warrant our close attention. L8 uses a variety of neume forms to represent the same contour, and some of these are used in specific melodic contexts, as shown in Chapter  4. Most of these shapes are employed in the same contexts in other early manuscripts. Common notational principles thus underlie the León and Rioja traditions. In some cases, marked graphic similarities between manuscripts also point to descent from common exemplars. The variants, however, imply that a robust oral tradition continued alongside the use of writing. Internacional sobre la Abadía de Santo Domingo de Silos II Historia, ed. José Antonio Fernández Flórez (Silos: Abadía de Silos, 2003), 177–​210. 12. See the complete study in Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta, “El ‘Breviarium gothicum’ de Silos. Archivo monástico, Ms. 6,” Hispania sacra 17 (1964): 393–​494. Millares Carlo et  al., Corpus, 182 gives a tenth- to eleventh-century date, though many others, such as Fernandez de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes, 163 date it to the eleventh century. Ruiz Ascensio, “Códices pirenaicos y riojanos,” places the origin of S6 at Santa María la Real de Nájera, which is followed by Zapke and Vivancos in Hispania Vetus, 198 and 290. This hypothesis requires further scrutiny before it is accepted. 13. See the complete study in Susana Zapke, El antifonario de San Juan de la Peña, siglos X–​XI:  estudio litúrgico-​musical del rito hispano (Zaragoza:  Institución Fernando el Católico, Seccíon de Música Antigua, 1995). The date is given as tenth century in Pinell, “El Oficio Hispano-​Visigotico. I. Fuentes,” 392; Pinell, “Los textos,” 130; and Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes, 170. Zapke places it at the turn of the eleventh century. 14. The dating of the manuscript to the eleventh century by various scholars perhaps refers to the Beatus de Liebana that comprises the main part of the manuscript, rather than the fly leaves containing the antiphoner, but this is not always specified. See Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes, 83; Randel, An Index, xviii (specifying the flyleaves); Gómez Muntané, La música medieval en España, 7; Pinell, “El Oficio Hispano-​Visigotico I,” 392. A late tenth-​century dating of the fly leaves is given by Vivancos in Hispania Vetus, 266; and Zapke, Hispania Vetus, 98 and 204.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition As a convenient shorthand for the different types of melodic relationships, I have divided each sacrificium and each manuscript comparison into five categories: 1. The same melody, with minor variants. 2. Melodies with at least one point of substantial melodic variance consisting of four or more successive syllables or neumes, or at least three variants consisting of two to three successive neumes.15 3. Melodies with substantial differences, but with enough similarities in contour and notes per syllable to be considered a different version of the “same” melody. 4. Chants that show traces of being the same melody, typically evident in approximate number of notes per syllable, with similar contours at isolated points. 5. Chants that have a completely different melody in the two manuscripts. These categories, of course, reflect analytical judgement and should not be considered as absolutes. My categorization of each tradition A melody is given in online ­appendix 8. Table 6.1 presents the results of this analysis in summary form. For each category and each comparative group of manuscripts, the table gives both the number of sacrificia and the number of versions available for comparison.16 In column 1, for example, 45 of L8’s sacrificia are preserved in at least one Rioja manuscript, but some are found in more than one; hence, there are 45 chants and 64 versions.The majority of melodies have very similar readings in all early manuscripts. In a comparison of L8 with Rioja manuscripts (column 2), 75 percent of versions are in category 1 or 2. In a comparison of chants found in more than one Rioja manuscript (column 3) 80 percent are in category 1 or 2. Although melodies in categories 1 and 2 are clearly recognizable as different versions of the same chant, they differ in their degrees of melodic and graphic similarity, which can yield insights into their history and transmission. The passages given in Example  6.1, a, b, and c illustrate this spectrum. The opening passage of Amplificare oblationem, Example  1a, exemplifies both melodic and graphic similarity between L8 and BL45.The phrase comprises twenty syllables, and fifteen of these (75%) have the same melodic contour and number of notes in both versions.17 Differences in contour are illustrated in boldface in the transcription.Two qualifications, however, are in order. First, some syllables in BL45 have no notation (see syllables 2, 3, and 4). These nearly always correspond to single notes in other manuscripts, so I have counted them as such. The most substantial melodic variant in Example 6.1a occurs at syllables 9 and 10, where 15. I have excluded typical variants at cadences that are associated with each melodic dialect, described below, from this count. 16. I have included only those chants for which substantial notation exists for at least one section of the chant. The number of versions thus differs from Tables 1.1–​1.3 in Chapter 1, where I have also included chants that are indicated by incipit only and two manuscripts with no musical notation. 17. Excluding one neume of uncertain contour (syllable 19) in BL45, which indicates either NULHL or NULH). On this neume, see Chapter 4, p. 125.

193

194 Songs of Sacrifice Table 6.1  Degrees of Resemblance between Manuscripts in Tradition A Number of L8/​Rioja sacrificia in (45 chants each category total)a

Manuscripts within Rioja traditionb (17 chants)

L8/​Toledo Rioja/​Toledo Manuscripts Ac(27 chants) A (13 chants) within Toledo A tradition (T4 and T7)

Category 1 12 chants 11 chants 19 versions 16 versions

10 chants 10 versions

4 chants 6 versions

2 chants 2 versions

Category 2 24 chants 3 chants 30 versions 4 versions

8 chants 10 versions

6 chants 14 versions

0

Category 3 4 chants 6 versions

1 chant 2 versions

4 chants 4 versions

2 chants 2 versions

0

Category 4 1 chant 3 versions

1 chant 1 version

4 chants 4 versions

1 chant 1 version

0

Category 5 4 chants 6 versions

1 chant 2 versions

1 chant 1 version

0

0

In the L8/​Rioja comparison, Sicut cedrus is counted in both 2 and 5 because of the difference in two sections of the chant. b Alleluia clamor appears in both category 3 (two versions) and category 1 (one version). See online appendix 9 for the full data. c Dum complerentur is counted both in categories 1 and 2 because of the difference in the two sections shared by L8 and T4. a

each version uses a different cadence on “oblationem.” The two manuscripts nonetheless have essentially the same melody. The two versions of this excerpt from Amplificare oblationem also have many notational commonalities. Of the 15 syllables with the same contour and number of notes, 12 (75%) have identical or equivalent neume forms. Both versions, for example, use the curved form of NH on syllables 1 and 20, the looped form on syllable 6, and the v-​shaped one on syllable 16.The forms of NHH also correspond: the v-​shaped version on syllable 7 and the looped one on syllable 17. On syllable 14, the two NL shapes have the same vertical placement; in both manuscripts, the top one is more angular and the lower one more rounded. Also striking is the use of a relatively rare form of NHL, starting with the loop, on syllable 19. In short, the two versions are very similar graphically as well as melodically. Example 6.1b, by contrast, also indicates a consistent melodic tradition, but with far more notational differences.This excerpt from Ab absconsis, preserved in L8 and A56, has 17 syllables; of these, 13 have either identical or compatible contours. For our purposes, “compatible” describes contours that could be the same, but the neumes could also indicate a different contour. These are italicized in the transcription. In syllable 6, for example, the “N” in L8, indicating an unknown contour in relation to the previous note, might (or

13

14

cel-​

N NL

N NL

ex-​

N

N

NH

NH

si

NL NL

NL NL

re-​

po-​

NH

NH

NHHHHLL NH NLHL

NHHHH NLLHa NLHL

16

N NHLL NHHL

N NHLL NUHL

re

gis

15

[N]‌

n/​a

NH

ca-​

NH

NH

o-​

NHH

NHH

pu-​

17

NHH

NHH

bla-​

NHLL

NHLL

le-​

18

NL

NL

ti-​

NHL NSHLH

NHL NULH

me-​

19

NHL

NHLH

o-​

NH

NH

us

20

NL

N

nem

a The number of loops in this neume would appear on first glance to represent three descending notes rather than two. This additional loop, however, is a consistent graphic feature of this neume in BL 45, always corresponding to two notes in L8 (see also syllable 18). Although the matter warrants a full paleographical study of all the chants in BL45, here I have provisionally interpreted this and similar descending neumes as representing a lower number of notes (i.e, NLLH at syllable 15, and Example 6.9b).

12

11

[N]‌

[N]‌

contour

NH

N

n/​a

fi-​

n/​a

NH

pli-​

N

contour

Am-​

BL45

L8

Chant text

Example 6.1a.  Opening of Amplificare oblationem (L8, 229 and BL 45, 69). In the transcription, identical contours are shown in regular type, compatible contours in italics, and melodic variants in boldface. Syllable 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

196 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.1b.  Passage from Ab absconsis (L8, 113 and A 56, 57v) Syllable

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

Chant text

Si

mi-​

chi

non

fu-​

e-​

rint

NH

NSH

N

NH

N NHLH

NH NL

NSH

NH

NSH

N

NHH

N NHLH

NHLL

NSH

L8

contour A56

coutour 8

9

10

11

de-​

li-​

cta

plu-​ ri-​

NH

NHH NH NHLH N

NHH N

NH NH N NUHL

NH

NHH NH NHL

NHL

NLH

N

12

13

14

15

16

17

ma

tunc

sal-​

va-​

bor

N

NHH NH

N NS NL NHL

NH

might not) be the same as the “L” in A56. Two of the melodic differences, over “plurima” and “salvabor” (syllables 12 and 16) are regional markers: the León and Rioja traditions have divergent but internally consistent tendencies. In Type 1 cadences, the penultimate syllable of a phrase, following a single note or a descending contour, typically has the v-​shaped NHH in L8 and a NHL neume in A56 and the other Rioja manuscripts.18 In comparison with Example 1a, this passage shows an equally close melodic kinship, but a more distant notational relationship. Of the 13 syllables with identical or compatible contours, only six have the same choice of neume, including the two single notes over “plurima.” In the few cases where a chant is preserved both in L8 and in more than one Rioja manuscript, the Rioja versions are closer to one another than to L8,

18. See Hornby and Maloy,“Melodic Dialects,” 42–​52. On Type 1 cadences, see Chapter 4, pp.  110–11. The NHL neume in this context may be written in a variety of ways in the “Rioja” sources.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition as expected. Some melodies, such as Exaudiat nos, Fulgebit, and In simplicitate, are nearly uniform among the Rioja manuscripts, with variant versions in L8. Looking more closely, however, these cases can hint at a complex transmission history. In Ego servus (Example 6.1c), all the Rioja manuscripts are more distantly related to L8 than in the previous two examples. Between A56 and L8, for example, 9 of the 23 syllables have melodic readings that differ in some way. While most of these variants are minor (for example, a three-​note rise vs. a two-​note rise on syllable 2), a substantial variant between L8 and the other manuscripts occurs at the cadence (syllables 21–​23). Despite the melodic differences, all the manuscripts share certain graphic similarities. L8 and A56, for example, correspond closely in neume choice: of the 15 syllables with the same contour and number of notes, the neume forms differ only twice (the NHL signs on syllables 7 and 11). Although the Rioja sources share characteristics that distinguish them from L8, not all variants break along these regional lines. Instead, each Rioja manuscript corresponds to L8 in different places. S4, for example, closely matches A56, with only one melodic variant (at syllable 12). Here, however, S4 corresponds in contour to L8 and differs from the other Rioja manuscripts. BL45’s variant points correspond in contour three times to L8 (syllables 8, 9, and 15) and four times to the other Rioja manuscripts (syllables 2, 21, 22, and 23), with its own reading at syllable 7. S3 matches L8 at syllable 8 (like BL45) and differs from all other manuscripts at syllables 9, 17, and 22. Randel observed a similar phenomenon in the Rioja responsory verse tones, in which he found varying degrees of “León symptoms,”19 and his observations are borne out in a comparison of entire melodies. Each melody is different in this respect, suggesting a complex and multifaceted transmission of the repertory.20 In summary, Examples 6.1a, b, and c illustrate a wide diversity of relationships among closely related melodies:  identical contours and neume forms, compatible contours represented with different neumes, tiny melodic variants, and brief passages of more substantive difference. These relationships can vary from phrase to phrase: a series of 20 syllables that is 80 percent identical, for example, may be followed by a passage that is substantially different. This diversity within the chants of categories 1 and 2 precludes a finer categorization of whole melodies on this basis.

19. Randel, The Responsory Verse Tones, 67, 70, 75–​76. 20. Another example: in Fulgebit, all Rioja MSS differ greatly from L8, forming a clear melodic family, until the final “alleluia” melisma in section I, when one of these MSS, S3, closely resembles L8.

197

198 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.1c.  Opening of Ego servus (L8, 76; A56,107v; S4, 188v; BL 45,53v; and S3, 68v) Syllable

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Chant text

E-​

go

ser-​

vus

tuus

et

fi-​

li-​

us

L8

A56

S4 BL45 S3

Syllable 10 Chant text L8

A56

S4

BL45

S3

an-​

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

cil-​

lae

tu-​

ae

dis-​

rum-​

pi-​

sti

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Example 6.1c.  Continued

Chant text

19

20

21

22

23

vin-​

cu-​

la

me-​

a

L8

A56

S4 2 0

1

BL45 5

6

7

1

2

S3

9

8 3

4

0

Tenth-​and Eleventh-​Century Manuscripts: Musical Literacy, Exemplars, and Oral Tradition What can melodies in categories 1 and 2 tell us about the state of the Old Hispanic tradition in the tenth and eleventh centuries? First, they point to a shared culture of music writing across the Rioja and León regions. As shown in Chapter 4, L8’s scribes sometimes used particular neume forms to convey melodic functions, such as cadences and openings.21 The same understanding of neume function was shared, to a large degree, by the scribes of all extant tenth-​ to eleventh-​century manuscripts. Most of L8’s context-​specific neumes have the same roles in the other early manuscripts. The v-​shaped NHH, 21. See Chapter 4, pp. 125–29.

, occurs

199

200 Songs of Sacrifice both at phrase openings and in specific cadential contexts; the rounded form

, occurs on the last syllable of a phrase;22 and is used only on of NH, the penultimate syllable of Type 2 cadences. Other shared notational customs and on final syllables of words.23 include the frequent use of These kinds of notational customs can only be transmitted through writing. Their presence in all extant early manuscripts indicates unequivocally that notated manuscripts circulated between the León and Rioja regions, confirming the findings of Randel in his study of the responsory verse tones.24 The manuscripts, however, would not support a hypothesis that the notational norms arose solely through mechanical copying. Rather, they appear to have been rooted not only in copying, but also in a common understanding of melodic grammar and how it was to be conveyed through notation. Although the scribes of each manuscript understood

as a cadential neume (nearly exclusively), they did not use this

neume at all the same places in every melody. In many cases, occurs as an alternative in one version or another.25 Because these two neumes are so visually distinct, this variant is unlikely to have entered the tradition through a copying error.The implication is that the cadential use of these two neumes did not result exclusively from the copying of individual melodies. Rather, the scribes understood both neumes as serving a cadential function because they were immersed in a common musical tradition and in a shared culture of musical literacy. Further evidence for shared writing habits lies in the notation of certain melodic formulas. Parallels emerge not only in the choice of specific neume forms for each constituent element of the formula, but also, in some cases, in the consistent positioning of those neumes within the writing space. In Example 6.1c, the Type 3 cadence on “tuus” (syllable 5) closes with two neumes that frequently occur in this context, the angular NH followed by NLHL[H]‌. The last neume of this pattern is usually written either directly above the 22. Also the penultimate syllable of Type 1 cadences following an ascent (see Chapter 4, pp. 110–111). In internal cadences, as noted, the “Rioja” sources use NHH less frequently in this context, having NHL instead. At final cadences, however, these manuscripts have L8’s version of the cadence, with v-​shaped NHH following a descending contour. 23. See Chapter 4, p. 151. 24. Randel, The Responsory Verse Tones,  93–​94. 25. See Example 6.1a, syllable 19. This is a common variant, suggesting these two neumes were functionally equivalent, though I have not found a preference for one or the other in particular manuscripts.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition penultimate one, as in L8 and A56, or to the right of it, as in S4 and S3. In Chapter 4, I hypothesized that these distinctive arrangements of neumes served as a visual cue for the aural recall of particular formulas. This aspect of musical literacy, too, extended across the regional traditions. Yet the manuscripts also differ in certain aspects of their notation, indicating that the shared principles of musical literacy could be applied differently at particular times and places.26 Some manuscripts have a tendency to use particular neume forms more often than they occur in L8, and in more generalized contexts. We also find graphic changes over time. BL45’s form of NHL on syllable 9 of Example  6.1a, for instance, is not found in L8, though it is recognizable as a horizontal “tilt” of a form found there.27 The notational and graphic similarities evident in some passages, such as Example  6.1a, suggest that these versions are written descendants of a common exemplar. Other explanations are possible, but less plausible. An alternative explanation would be that each shape representing the same contour corresponded to sounding reality in ways that are lost to us, conveying information about pitch or performance so precise that separate dictations could result in the kind of consistency shown in Example 6.1a. The loop that begins the neume on syllable 6 of Example  6.1a, for example, might indicate an oriscus; such a nuance could have been transmitted aurally and notated independently in each manuscript. It is also possible that the correlation of particular neume shapes with melodic function led scribes to choose the same neumes in the same places, independent of an exemplar. The simplest and most probable explanation for the graphic similarities, however, is that they indeed point to a common exemplar, probably some generations back. 26. Take, for example, the Type 3 cadences that end in an angular NL followed by a NH. (See online appendix 3c, VII. 2b.) In L8, these two signs are nearly always positioned vertically, whereas the Rioja manuscripts tend to place them side by side. In L8, this neume combination is sometimes difficult to distinguish from NSH, in which the first element is rounded. The distinction between them tends to be clearer when the two shapes are placed horizontally, as they are in the Rioja manuscripts, and perhaps this explains the Rioja positioning preference. 27. The tendency to write neumes horizontally on some occasions is evident in many of the manuscripts from the Rioja, such as S4, A56, and S3. A horizontal form of NHH, for example, occurs several times in S4 and A56’s versions of Exaudiat nos, and the same principle can apply to other neumes, such as a “quilisma” in S3, f. 68v. This is not done consistently in these sources, but rather stands out as a “special effect.” It not clear what these shapes signify in this context, nor is the relationship of these writing tendencies to the markedly “horizontal” notation of the late Toledan manuscripts.While both issues warrant closer study, these examples caution against seeing “vertical” and “horizontal” as two distinct classes of Old Hispanic notation, as was often done in earlier scholarship. On this historiography, see Hornby, Ihnat, Maloy, and Rojo-​Carillo, Liturgical and Musical Culture in Early Medieval Iberia: Decoding a Lost Tradition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, forthcoming), Chapter 4.

201

202 Songs of Sacrifice Although the musical culture of Old Hispanic chant in the tenth and eleventh centuries was certainly a literate one, the unpitched notation could not function without an aural reference point:  no one could learn the melodies solely from unpitched neumes. As noted, the close connection between notation and melodic function implies that the scribes copied from exemplars with reference to their aural, internalized understanding of the melodies.28 Melodic and graphic variants can indicate different types of interactions between copying and the aural tradition. When two geographically and chronologically distinct versions of a melody use different neumes, say, 20  percent of the time, these differences can be explained in a variety of ways. If the scribe knew a different version of the melody from that of the exemplar, melodic variants reflecting the local version may have been introduced at the moment of writing. Other melodic variants could reflect copying mistakes, perhaps entering in over generations. The notation of the same contour with a different neume shape, moreover, could simply reflect scribal preference. In Example 6.1b, however, a much higher percentage of the compatible contours have been written with different neumes. It is tempting to see such cases as independent notations of the melody, representations of a consistent aural tradition in a varied written form. On the whole, the melodic variants indicate that the aural understanding of the melodies was not uniform across the areas in which these manuscripts were produced, even among very stable melodies. In Example 6.1a, for instance, syllables 9 and 10 have a different cadence in L8 and BL45. These examples point to a multilayered transmission of the Old Hispanic melodies, with both written and aural aspects. This aural-​written continuum should be borne in mind when considering related but substantially different versions of the same melody, represented in categories 3 and 4. Two versions of Alleluia clamor (Example 6.2), preserved in L8 and S6, have a similar contour and number of notes on “nocte,” “sponsus venit,” and at the end, beginning with “obviam.” Despite these indications that the two versions are rooted in a common tradition, all other passages are substantially variant. These differences probably arose through some combination of written and aural factors. The variant at the opening “alleluia,” for example, might be the result of a copying error or an ambiguity in an exemplar. Both versions place a related melisma on “alleluia,” but, exceptionally, each does so on a different ­syllable, adjusting the end of the melisma accordingly. In S6 the melisma

28. As has been proposed for chant more broadly. See, inter alia, Luisa Nardini, “‘God Is Witness’: Dictation and the Copying of Chants in Medieval Monasteries,” Musica Disciplina 57 (2012): 51–​79; Susan Rankin, “Calligraphy and the Study of Neumatic Notations,” in The Calligraphy of Medieval Music, ed. John Haines (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 47–​62.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Example 6.2.  Alleluia clamor factus (L8, 221v and S6, 31v)

Syllable 1

2

3

Text

al-​

le-​

lu-​

L8

NH

NHHLH

NHH

S6

NHHHH

N

NHL NL NS N NHL NHLH

4

5

6

7

8

ia

cla-​

mor

fa-​

ctus

NHLHL NS NH NLHLH

NHHHH

N

NHLL

NL NHL

N

N NHL NHL NH

N

N NHL NHL

N NHL NHL

9

10

11

12

13

14

Text

est

me-​

di-​

L8

NLH

NHH

NL

a

no-​

cte

N

N NHLH

NH NH NS

S6

NLH

N NHL NHL

NL

N

N NHLH

NH NH NSH

203

204 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.2.  Continued 15

16

17

18

19

20

di

-​cens

Ec

-​ce

spon

-​sus

NH NH HLH

NL

NH NH NUL NSHLH

NSH

NHHHH

NH

N NHLL NHL

N

NH

NH NUL NLH NL NH

NHHHH

NH

21

22

23

24

25

ve

-​nit

ex

-​i

-​te

NHHL NSHLH

NSH

N

NHH

NSH

N N NHL NHLH

NL NH

N

N NH

NSH

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

ob

-​vi

-​am

e

-​i

al

-​le

-​lu

-​ia

NHHHH NHLH NHLL NHHHH

N

NS

NLH

NHHLH

NHH NH N NLH NHH NULH

NHHH NH NHH NH

N

NS

N NH

NHHHLH NHH NH N NLH NHH NSLH

NLH

NHLL

(syllable 3) closes with a sign very similar to , the cadential neume that often appears on the penultimate syllable of a word, consistent with its placement here. In L8, the melisma (syllable 4) has the ending of a Type 3 cadence, suitable to its placement on the final syllable. Since the word “alleluia” is almost

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition always set with the melisma on the second syllable, both versions of the melody are atypical. Perhaps this anomaly, along with the graphic similarity between the two melisma-​closing formulas, created ambiguity about the intended melodic reading, resulting in either a copying error or a melodic adjustment (or both) at some point in the chant’s written transmission. The variant at “ecce” (syllables 17 and 18), also a matter of text underlay, might have arisen from a similar “misreading.”Yet other variants, such as the cadence at “dicens” (syllables 15 and 16), are so different in contour and appearance that they are not the direct result of a copying error.29 Given that the putative purpose of exemplars was to support a stable aural tradition, these kinds of variants probably reflected an established tradition of singing these passages in places where the exemplars were received. Some substantial variants, then, may reflect regional or local practices that were part of a local, probably oral tradition at the time the exemplars were copied. Examples like this indicate the absence of a single authoritative melodic tradition for the Old Hispanic chant. Although the aural tradition was often very consistent, certain local and regional practices were maintained, despite the use of exemplars. An interaction between orality and writing is further supported by the consistency of regional variation in certain melodic contexts. The small but persistent variants from L8 that are common to all the Rioja manuscripts, such as the cadences on syllables 12 and 16 in ­example 1b, are not the purview of individual scribes or singers, nor are they likely to have come about through copying errors. Rather, they reflect practices that were deeply rooted in each tradition.This suggests that the scribes adjusted the tradition they received from exemplars according to their local practice.

Tenth-​and Eleventh-​Century Manuscripts: Variants in Long Melismas Melismatic practice was a flexible element of the tradition. Although nearly all sacrificia preserved in more than one early manuscript have melismas in the same places, these melismas can vary greatly in length, structure, melodic contour, and the extent to which they link melodically to other passages of the same chant. Melismas of more than 30 notes, in particular, can be so divergent as to suggest cantatorial initiative. I characterize the variants in melismas as either “melodic” or “structural.” Melodic variants are differences in melodic contour, whereas structural variants involve differences of length, number of melisma sections, and repetitions.30 Although long melismas often exhibit the 29. The two other sources for this chant, S3 and BL45 (not shown in the example), evince the complexity of transmission among these sources, matching S6 at the three points of greatest variance (“alleluia,” “dicens,” and “ecce”), but being nearly identical to L8 at “clamor factus.” 30. On melisma sections and how they are defined, see Chapter 4, pp. 136–38.

205

206 Songs of Sacrifice most interesting variants across the tradition, the manuscript corpus unfortunately provides us with limited comparative data.The final sections of sacrificia, which contain the longest melismas, are not preserved in the majority of manuscripts. Besides L8, A30 is the only early substantial manuscript to consistently contain these sections, thus often providing the only point of comparison with L8. L8 and A30 share 55 melismas of more than 30 notes, found in 19 sacrificia. Eighteen show substantial melodic variance, and another 11 are structurally variant. How do these variant practices affect the melodic shaping of the text? The melodic rhetoric can sometimes be very similar in two divergent versions. In Venient, L8 and A30 have marked divergences in two melismas (Example 6.3). In L8, as noted in Chapter 5, the related melismas on “saeculi” and “misertus sum” stress the eternity of God’s mercy, a theme that was central in the compilation of the text. The material shared between the two melismas in L8 is shown in the circled portions of Example 6.3a and c. A30’s melismas on “saeculi” and “misertus sum” (6.3b and d) are very different from L8’s, but they, too, share material with one another. Despite their melodic differences, both versions heighten the rhetoric at these section endings through melismas and varied repetition. In other cases, however, the variants between melismas change the shape of the rhetoric. In Locutus est Daniel, melismas of similar length occur at or near the beginnings of two phrases:  at “troni positi sunt,” the opening of section II, and again at “vestimenta eius” (Example  6.4). In L8, the second melisma (c) incorporates the circled material from the first melisma (a). Although A30 has a passage similar to L8’s in the first melisma (b), repetition of it in the second melisma is not discernable (d). While both versions underline the same passages of text through lengthening, L8’s version further heightens that rhetoric through repetition. Additional examples of this kind of variant are provided in online appendix 9. Eleven of the long melismas in A30 and L8 exhibit structural variants. These melismas often share a core of similar or identical material, but differ in length, number of sections, or number of repetitions. The final melisma of Haec dicit . . . formans te (Example 6.5) begins identically in the two versions, with the same repeated section, and also ends similarly. L8’s version, however, has an additional repeated section, resulting in a melisma that is nearly twice as long (40 notes in A30 and 75 in L8). The evidence does not speak to whether the shorter version of the melisma is an earlier melodic core, later expanded in León but not in the Rioja, or whether A30 represents a curtailment of a once-​longer original. Either way, such examples indicate a flexible tradition in the practice of these melismas, despite the circulation of exemplars between the two regions. Like other passages of the sacrificia, these melismas evince writing habits shared across

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Example 6.3. Variant melismas in Venient (L8, 54v and A30, 82) a. L8, melisma on “saeculi”

b. A30, melisma on “saeculi”

c. L8, melisma on “misertus sum”

d. A30, melisma on “misertus sum”

regional traditions. In Chapter 4, I showed that melodic formulas within melismas are notated in very consistent ways. The circled formula that closes the first section in Example 6.5 is written with the same choice of neumes in both manuscripts.31 A30 also tends to adopt L8’s practice, illustrated in Chapter 4, of arranging the neumes in exactly the same way with each repetition of a section, mirroring the melodic repetition graphically. Although these shared habits

31. See Chapter  4, pp.  146–48. The difference in the positioning of the last element, NHLH, is consistent with other notational preferences of manuscripts from the Rioja. The placement of NLHL(H) in these formulas can be either on top or to the side of the penultimate neume in L8, whereas sources from the Rioja place it to the side more often.

207

208 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.4.  Melismas from Locutus est Daniel (L8, 96 and A30, 200v) a. “Troni” melisma in L8

b. “Troni” melisma in A30

c. “Eius” melisma in L8

d. “Eius melisma in A30

suggest a transmission of melismas through writing, it supported a tradition that seems to have been flexible in some places. Differences in melisma length and structure can shape the rhetoric of the text delivery in divergent ways, as exemplified in another passage of Haec dicit . . . formans te. I noted in Chapter 5 (Example 5.7a) that the melisma on “fluentes” in L8 begins with the same 28 notes as the previous one on “germinavit,” and is then expanded with a second repeated section, enhancing the rhetorical delivery of “fluentes.” In A30, however, the second melisma is identical to the first, without the expansion. This moment is stressed with lengthening and repetition in both versions, but A30 lacks the further rhetorical heightening in the second melisma (Example 6.5).

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Example 6.5.  Haec dicit . . . formans te, melisma on “me” a. A30, 210

b. L8, 99

While these structural differences can be understood as a simple matter of expansion or contraction, other examples show more freedom in the treatment of material. A shared core of melody can appear at different points within each version and be subject to different repetition schemes. In Munera (Example  6.6), both versions of the melisma on “sancto” are partly derived from an earlier melisma on “filio.” The two manuscripts, however, use the borrowed material in different ways. In A30’s “sancto” melisma (a), some of this recurring material is stressed with further repetition (indicated with “d” for “duplicatur”), resulting in the form AABBC. By contrast, L8’s “sancto” melisma (c) employs only one section of material from the “filio” melisma and rounds off the melisma with a frequently used combination of four neumes. The whole melisma is then repeated, as indicated with “d,” resulting in an AA form. Further examples of structurally variant melismas may be examined in online appendix 9.

209

210 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.6.  Munera, melismas on “sancto” and “filio” (L8, 49v and A 30, 65v) a. A30, “sancto” (circled passages shared with b. “filio”)

b. A30, “filio” (circled passages shared with a. “sancto”)

c. L8, “sancto” (circled passage shared with a. “sancto” melisma in A30)

d. L8, “filio” (circled passages shared with b. “filio” melisma in A30)

Each of the melodies examined here shows that a common conception of the melodic rhetoric, for each sacrificium, extended across the surviving examples from the León and Rioja regions. The exact ways of realizing this basic understanding, however, could vary from place to place, particularly in the practice of melismas. Although A30 offers the richest basis for comparison with L8, other manuscripts hint at variable practices as well (see Example 6.8).

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Perhaps precisely because of their importance in shaping the textual rhetoric, some melismas were points of cantatorial flexibility and initiative.

The Toledo A Tradition Although the melodies in the late manuscripts from Toledo have rarely been subject to close study, they stand as an important testimony to the full chronological and geographical breadth of the Old Hispanic chant. Though a certain Toledan origin can be demonstrated for only two of these manuscripts, most are thought to be connected to the continuation of the Old Hispanic liturgy in the “Mozarabic” parishes of Toledo, after its general suppression at the Council of Burgos in 1080. I  will examine the historiography of these parishes more fully, but first I will consider the two manuscripts belonging to the Toledo A tradition for the evidence they yield about melodic variability within tradition A. Sacrificia are preserved in two tradition A manuscripts from Toledo: T4 and T7. T7, copied around the turn of the twelfth century, has annotations that link it to the parish of Santa Eulalia in Toledo.32 Although T7 has only 8 sacrificia, 7 of these contain all three to four sections of the chant. T4, preserving many sacrificia from the later part of the liturgical year, was owned by the parish of Santa Eulalia;33 its copying date has been variously proposed as 1192–​1208,34 the more general “12th century,”35 or “11th–​12th century.”36 T4 is the only manuscript to preserve a full series of quotidiano sacrificia, further adding to our knowledge of this repertory. In nearly all cases, T4 has only the first section of the chant.37 Together with T4 and T7, I have also included T6, which

32. Copied by Sebastianus scriptor. Anscari Mundó, “La datación de los códices litúrgicos visigóticos toledanos,” Hispania sacra 18 (1965): 2–​25. The date is given as late eleventh to early twelfth century in Gros, “El ‘ordo missae’ de la tradición hispánica A,” in Liturgía y música mozárabes: ponencias y communicaciones presentadas al I Congreso Internacional de Estudios Mozárabes, Toledo, 45–​64 (Toledo: 1975); at 62; Janini, Gonzálvez and Mundó, Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos de la cathedral de Toledo, 103; and Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes, 172 33. A note on 171v indicates that it was owned by Santa Eulalia and there is a payment record (relating to a carpenter) on f. 172v from 1398, confirming its continued presence at that church. 34. Anscari Mundó, “La datación de los códices litÙrgicos visigóticos toledanos,” Hispania sacra 18 (1965):  2–​25; at 10. See also José Janini, Ramón Gonzálvez, and Anscari Mundó, Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos de la cathedral de Toledo (Toledo: Publicaciones del Instituto Provincial de Investigaciones y Estudios Toledanos, 1977), 62. 35. Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes, 170. 36. Agustín Millares Carlo and Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, Corpus de códices visigóticos, 192, question Mundó’s dating, which is based on a bishop identified in the colophon. 37. The same trend toward shortening in the late manuscripts is reflected in other chants, parallel to the disappearance of Gregorian offertory verses.

211

212 Songs of Sacrifice contains a single sacrificium. Although T6’s notation is akin to that of the early northern manuscripts, Mundó placed its text script in the central part of the Peninsula.38 T4 and T7 reflect yet a third melodic dialect associated with tradition A, evident in their responsory verse tones, cadences, and openings.39 This dialect is also found in the single sacrificium of T6.40 Despite these regional differences, the Toledo A tradition reinforces the impression of melodic consistency within tradition A. As shown in Table 6.1, column 4, two-​thirds of the sacrificia preserved both Toledo A and L8 (18/​27) are assigned to category 1 or 2. Among the few sacrificia preserved in Toledo A and the Rioja manuscripts (Table 6.1, col. 5), the similarity is even stronger: 10/​13 are in categories 1 and 2. In Audi Israhel preceptum (Example 6.7), only 3 of the 15 syllables have substantially different contours in T4 and L8 (“Israhel,” “preceptum,” and “tui”), a proportion similar to that found among the early sources. T4’s version of Audi Israhel preceptum illustrates the marked notational differences from the early manuscripts, both in the appearance of the neumes and in the choices of forms to represent particular contours. Although scholars have emphasized the horizontal slant of the Toledan notation, many factors place it within the broader “Visigothic” family, with some differences in the use and understanding of specific shapes.41 The late Toledan sources also lack the full variety of neume forms found among early sources. The earliest example of a similar notation, from a fragment now at Coimbra, may date from the tenth century. If correct, this date would suggest that this distinctive notational style was associated with Toledo at an early date.42 38. Mundó, “La datación,” 19; Janini, Gonzálvez, and Mundó, Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos de la cathedral de Toledo, 102, place its origin in Toledo. It is dated to the late tenth to the early eleventh century in Mundó, “La datación,” 19; Gros, “El ordo missae”, 49; Janini, Gonzálvez, and Mundó, Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos de la cathedral de Toledo, 102; Díaz y Díaz, Libros y librerías en la Rioja altomedieval, 194; Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes, 172; Millares Carlo et al., Corpus, 194; and Zapke, Hisania Vetus, 300. 39. Randel, Responsory Verse Tones, 80–​92. Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects.”The variant on the first syllable of “tui” exemplifies a regional tendency at cadences: N in T4 and NHH in L8. 40. A look at the other chants in T6, however, suggests that they have ties to both northern melodic traditions. Moreover, these traditions are associated with different scribal hands. 41. In the early sources, for example, the gapped form of NH is relatively rare, whereas in the late Toledo manuscripts, this and other gapped neumes occur more frequently. In Toledan notation, the shape NHH is often written with a punctum and two virgae rather than two puncta and a virga, as in the early sources, perhaps pointing to a subtle shift in the understanding of the virga’s function. As mentioned in note 27, the vertical tilt of the notation is occasionally evident already in some Rioja manuscripts. The matter requires a full paleographical study. 42. Archivo da Universidade, Coimbra, IV-​3.a-​Gav. 44 (22). As argued in Susana Zapke, “Dating Neumes According to Their Morphology: The Corpus of Toledo,” in The Calligraphy of Medieval Music, ed. John Haines (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 91–​99.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Example 6.7.  Opening of Audi Israhel preceptum in L8 and T4 a. L8, 191v

b. T4,  30v

Aspects of Toledan notation occasionally result in ambiguity for the modern reader. , usually representing a single note in a series, often corresponds to both ascending and repeated-​note shapes in L8, making its precise meaning ambiguous (thus it is indicated with “U” in the transcriptions).43 In most passages, however, T4 and T7 present clearly readable contours. The Toledo A notation often maintains the neume groupings found in L8, despite the different appearance of the individual neumes. We find this both in cadential formulas, such as the final syllables of “audi,” “Israhel,” and “domini” of Example  6.7, and in non-​formulaic passages, such as the first two syllables of “domini.” Despite the different notational style, the Toledo A tradition may well be related to the northern manuscripts through exemplars. The Toledo A melodies are typically closer to those in the Rioja sources than to L8, though the surviving corpus includes only 14 sacrificia that are preserved in all three melodic traditions. In one telling dialectical variant, the Toledo A versions rarely have NHH on the penultimate syllable of Type 1 cadences, which is the overwhelming preference in L8. Instead, T4 and T7 have either a single note in this context (Example 6.7, “tui”) or NHL, the choice most often found in the Rioja manuscripts.44 The Toledo A sources often correspond to the Rioja manuscripts at other cadential points as well.45 T4 and T7, however, also exhibit dialectical differences from all earlier manuscripts. For example, 43. The four-​note pattern over the last syllables of “audi” and “domini” in Example 6.7 corresponds to NHHL in L8, in this chant and many others. However, its last three elements also correspond in many cases to a trigon in L8 (NUL). 44. Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects,” 42–​52. 45. See, e.g., Elegit, “tribu,” where the common cadential pattern NH NH NLH is used in all MSS except L8.

213

214 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.8. Variant passages in Sicut turris a. A30, 146v (with lacuna)

b. L8, 78v

c. T7, 49v

columBE: A30

L8

T7

N NS NSHL N NS NH NLHLH

N N NH N NH NH NS NH NLHLH

N NSHL NS NSHL NH NS NHLH N NSHL NS NSHL NH NS NHLH

habunDAntia A30

L8

T7

(exact repeat of columbae)

NH (with erasures)

(repeat of first half of columbae)

when the Type 3 cadence with NH + NL + NH on the final syllable is found in an earlier manuscript, the corresponding shape in T7 is typically read as NH + NL + NHH.46 The early manuscripts lack an exact equivalent to this cadence, attesting, in a small way, to the distinctiveness of the Toledo A tradition. In its fragmentary state, Toledo A  hints that the surviving tenth-​and eleventh-​century manuscripts, from two adjacent regions in northern Iberia, do not reflect the full variability of Old Hispanic chant. Its stronger connection to the Rioja manuscripts is evident in some of the most melodically variant sacrificia. Elevavit sacerdos, for example, has a completely different melody in L8

46. Audi Israhel preceptum, “observa.” Some Rioja manuscripts, however, do have NHH rather than NH in a similar context (on the final syllables of words). See, e.g., M418, Circuibo, “immolabo” and “cantabo.” For another example, the Type 2 cadence featuring the small NLH is a feature of all early manuscripts.T4 and T7, however, typically have two single notes here, indicating either NS or NH.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition and the Rioja manuscripts, and Fulgebit has a substantially different melody in the two traditions. In both cases,T4’s version is closer to the Rioja manuscripts, though with some further variation. In a few sacrificia, however, Toledo A is very distinct melodically from both northern traditions. Formavit, Sicut turris,47 and most of Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum have unique versions of the melodies in Toledo A. In all these cases, the Toledo A version corresponds to at least one northern manuscript in some passage of the melody, hinting at their common melodic roots. While it possible that the separate melodic tradition for some Toledo A  melodies is attributable to the late date of these manuscripts as a group, it is worth recalling that the earliest, T7, is thought to date from around 1100, only fifty years after the copying of certain northern manuscripts, such as S4. It is also possible, then, that this tradition reflects a distinctive and long-​ standing regional practice associated with Toledo and its environs. This practice can be reflected in text setting strategies. Melchisedec shows a close relationship among L8, S6, and T7 in most passages, but the three manuscripts give different readings at a particular point of rhetorical emphasis. In Chapter 5, I noted that the words “rex pacis” are an insertion into the main source for this chant, Genesis 14:18, deriving from Hebrews 7:2 and underlining Melchisedech as a type of Christ. In L8 the words are emphasized by a rare repetition on successive syllables, using the cadential neume NHLH (see Chapter 5, Example 5.7e). S6 has repetition here too, but without a recognizable cadential gesture, and T4 lacks repetition altogether. This case exemplifies how text setting strategies could vary across the Peninsula. The Toledo A manuscripts reinforce the impression that melismas were particularly subject to variance. In Sicut turris, shorter melismas vary among all three traditions. At the beginning of section II (Example 6.8), the manuscripts draw on a fund of related material, but use it in different ways. A30 (a) has identical melismas at “columbae” and “habundantia,” connecting the two words.48 L8 (b) has a melisma on “columbae,” related to the one in A30, but a melisma at “habundantia” seems to have been erased and replaced with a simple two-​ note ascent. T7’s melisma on “columbae” (c) shares some material with that of A30, but has a varied repeat, doubling the melisma’s size; a version without the repeat then appears on “habundantia.” Later in the same chant, the melisma on “aureos” (Example  6.9) varies in a similar way, but here A30 (a)  has the most exuberant version, with varied repetition. BL45 (b) has a similar melisma without repetition, and L8 (c) lacks a melisma altogether. Although T7 (d) has the same NLL NLL gesture found in the two Rioja manuscripts, it lacks a full melisma. In these ways, T7 attests to a broader range of variance for the Old Hispanic chant than we find in the early manuscripts alone.

47. Particularly its first section. 48. BL45, not shown in the example, presents a version that is very close to that of A30.

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Example 6.9.  Sicut turris, “aureos” melisma a. A30, 146v

b. BL45, 88

c. L8, 79

d. T7,  49v

A 30

BL 44

L8

T7

N NH NLL NLL NH NLL NLL NH NUL NH NLL NLL NH NLL NLL NH N NHLH

N NLL NLL NH NLL NLL NH NUL

N NLHLL

N NLL NLL

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition

Tradition A: Fixity, Flexibility, and Transmission Having demonstrated a spectrum of stability and flexibility in tradition A, we can now place these observations in the context of theories about the transmission of Western plainchant. In the debates carried out primarily in the later decades of the twentieth century, the core of the argument lay not in whether the transmission of Franco-​Roman chant was oral or written—​it was clearly both, in different proportions at different times. Nor did it lie, ultimately, in when notation was introduced. Whatever the answer, we must still contend with the oral origins of the melodies, and, at some later point, the co-​existence of oral and written transmission, at least until the neumes became pitch-​readable. The central issue in these debates concerned the nature of the oral transmission and the underlying cognitive processes posited from existing melodies or manuscripts. On one side was stable transmission of individual melodies, which Max Haas (following Bäuml) characterized as wörtlich: literal, note-​for-​note reproduction.49 This conception may be informally linked to a conventional concept of memorization. On the other side, Leo Treitler and others hypothesized oral composition as a reconstructive process that followed a system of rules and principles.50 In this model, the identity of a melodic tradition lay not so much in each successive pitch of each melody, but rather in melodic substance: a tradition that was stofflich in Haas’s characterization.51 The wörtlich-​stofflich distinction touches on how much the melodies changed as they were sung from year to year, taught to new singers, and disseminated to different locations. Were the details the same each time, or was it an underlying “substance” that remained constant, with elements of melodic detail changing over time? I see these possibilities not as polar opposites, but as points on a continuum, potentially explaining different aspects of a repertory at different 49. Max Haas, Mündliche Überlieferung und altrömischer Choral:  Historische und analytische computergestützte Untersuchungen (Bern: Peter Lang, 1997), 26–​31. The idea of wörtlich transmission is manifest in David Hughes’s idea that the melodies acquired fixity before notation, with the intention of each singer to “reproduce exactly what he had been taught,” and in Richard Crocker’s concept that they were reproduced with reference to an “inner text.” Kenneth Levy, by contrast, ultimately believed that it was impossible to produce a stable melodic tradition by relying on this kind of memorization, which he hypothetically termed “referential memory.” David Hughes, “Evidence for the Traditional View of the Transmission of Gregorian Chant,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 40 (1987): 377–​404; Richard Crocker, “Gregorian Studies in the 21st Century,” Plainsong and Medieval Music 4 (1995): 33–​ 86; Kenneth Levy, Gregorian Chant and the Carolingians (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998), 211–​213. 50. The many articles in which Treitler made this case were reprinted with new introductions in Leo Treitler, With Voice and Pen: Coming to Know Medieval Song and How It Was Made (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). See in particular Chapters 1, 2, 6, and 10. 51. Haas, Mündliche Überlieferung,  26–​31.

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218 Songs of Sacrifice times.52 Different tendencies are evident even within the same repertory in the same manuscripts. If L8 and the Rioja manuscripts can be taken as a window onto the state of the Old Hispanic repertory in the tenth and eleventh centuries, melodic stability was of primary importance for these cantors and scribes. Eighty percent of the sacrificia are in category 1 or 2. Yet such stability did not extend to the complete repertory. One could argue that these degrees of consistency correlate with different models. Melodies in categories 1 and 2 are not uniform, but the similarity of melodic detail can be conceptualized within the broad framework of a “stable” melodic transmission and a wörtlich model. In category 3 and 4 melodies, lesser in number, we can often discern a shared underlying melodic structure, evident in the melodic pacing and placement of melismas, but realized with different details. “Dicens” in Example 6.2 is a good illustration: both versions have a cadential melisma of moderate length here, constituting a common “substance,” but with different melodic contours. These types of melodies are perhaps better conceived within a stofflich tradition. But of what sort? Hypotheses about stofflich chant transmission have typically focused on formulaic chants:  Franco-​ Roman antiphons, graduals, tracts, responsories, and various Old Roman genres. In these cases, the posited “substance” is a system of rules or constraints, incorporating aspects such as genre, mode, textual syntax, conventions for text declamation, or a “road map” of cadential pitches.53 These principles can be discerned to a degree even in ideomelic chants such as the sacrificia. As shown in Chapter 4, certain cadential formulas are correlated with specific accent patterns. On the whole, however, I would posit that for the sacrificia such as Alleluia clamor (Example 6.2), the “substance” remembered in the oral tradition was a blueprint or template for

52. For example, the hypothesis that the Franco-​Roman repertory transitioned from being stofflich to wörtlich is inherent in the long-​standing view that it was stabilized before being written down. It is explicitly proposed in Andreas Haug, “Der Codex und die Stimme in der Karolingerzeit,” in Codex und Geltung, ed. Felix Heinzer and Hans-​Peter Schmit (Wiesbaden: Harassowitz Verlag, 2015), 29–​46. 53. Leo Treitler, “Homer and Gregory: The Transmission of Epic Poetry and Plainchant,” Musical Quarterly 60, no. 3 (1974): 333–​72; Haas, Mündliche Überlieferung. On specific genres, see, inter alia, Edward Nowacki, “Text Declamation as a Determinant of Melodic Form in the Old Roman Eighth-​Mode Tracts,” Early Music History 6 (1986): 193–​226; Emma Hornby, Gregorian and Old Roman Eighth-​Mode Tracts:  A Case Study in the Transmission of Western Chant (Burlington:  Ashgate, 2002); Kate Helsen, “The Great Responsories of the Divine Office: Aspects of Structure and Transmission” (PhD thesis, Regensburg University, 2008); Rebecca Maloy, Inside the Offertory: Aspects of Chronology and Transmission (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010), 92–​100. The melodic relationship between many Old Roman and Gregorian versions of a given chant, with a similar melodic contour and very different surface details, could also be conceptualized as “wörtlich.”

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition each individual melody, which would include aspects of textual pacing, such as where cadences and melismas should fall, and, most likely, elements of tonal structure, such as recitation and cadential pitches, and the general melodic contours of various phrases. Some of the surface details changed. Evidence for this kind of stofflich transmission, as I will show, emerges far more often in a comparison of traditions A and B. Category 3 and 4 melodies vary in which melodic elements were stable and which were subject to change. In Alleluia clamor, as we have seen, cadences are the most common point of difference. If this pattern were prevalent throughout the repertory, it would suggest that the tradition was more variant at cadential points, perhaps because the singers relied on a general knowledge of the tradition rather than on particular knowledge of individual melodies. In the repertory as a whole, however, the variants equally permeate formulaic and non-​formulaic material. Melismas, particularly subject to variance, may have been more challenging to hold in memory because they were not tethered to a text. The tradition A melodies, then, testify primarily to a transmission of individual, stable melodies, with some melodies falling at a different place along the fixity-​flexibility spectrum. With the conceptual framework of a stofflich transmission, I do not mean that changes in melodic detail were intentional, only that they are witnessed through the existing manuscripts.

Tradition B and the Old Hispanic Rite in Post-​Conquest Toledo Preserved in only three incomplete or fragmentary sources, tradition B is unequivocally a separate branch of the Old Hispanic rite, differing from the tradition A  manuscripts in its readings, prayers, and liturgical assignments of chants.54 Its repertory of Lenten office chants, moreover, overlaps only partly with that of L8, the only available source for comparison.The tradition B melodies, too, are far more distant from the tenth-​and eleventh-​century sources than those of the Toledo A manuscripts are. All three tradition B manuscripts are from the thirteenth or fourteenth century and associated with Toledo. The 54. A possible indirect witness to a fuller practice, for the chant texts, may be found in the “neo-​Mozarbic” Missale mixtum compiled by Francisco Jiménez de Cisneros and Alfonso Ortiz (PL 85).The Lenten liturgies correspond to T5 in its chant texts, liturgical assignments, and prayer formularies, which suggests that other parts of the liturgical year also reflect an Old Hispanic, Medieval liturgical practice distinct from tradition A. These sources, however, are not Medieval and should thus be approached with great caution. Ortiz added early modern liturgical elements, as shown in José Janini, “Misas mozárabes recompuestas por Ortiz,” Hispania sacra 34 (1982): 1–​11; José Janini, “Las piezas litúrgicas del Toledo 35.7 editadas por Ortiz,” Escritos del Vedat 8 (1978): 161–​77. I therefore do not consider these sources as part of tradition B in this study.

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220 Songs of Sacrifice two with sacrificia are T5, copied in the thirteenth century55 and preserving Lent and the first part of Easter week; and MSC, a fragment with part of the sanctorale copied between 1200 and 1250.56 Both manuscripts use the Toledan notation and were probably copied in or near Toledo. Recent changes in the understanding of thirteenth-​ century Toledan Mozarabic culture provide a new context for understanding tradition B and the late Toledan manuscripts. The parishes that practiced the Old Hispanic rite after its suppression at the Council of Burgos in 1080 were long believed to have been populated by Toledan Christians who had maintained their practices through Muslim rule. Although the Old Hispanic liturgy is not among the rights granted to these Christians in Alfonso VI’s fuero of 1118, its continuous practice in Toledo after the Christian conquest of 1085 was accepted by most scholars.57 According to this narrative, the rite was allowed to continue 55. Regarding the date of T5, Mundó argued that T5 shares features with the hands of T4 and BN10, although he saw T5’s main hand as more decadent than that of BN10, thus dating T5 to 1250–​1275 (Mundó, “La datación,” 12). Janini, Gonzálvez, and Mundó, Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos de la cathedral de Toledo, 101 gives a mid-​thirteenth-​century date. It is possible that the main hand of T5 could be contemporaneous with T4 and BN10, but by a less talented scribe, hence the more general thirteenth-​century dating given here, also given by Zapke, HV, 230 n. 33; Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y fuentes musicales, 171.Two further hands contributed to the copying of T5 (163r–​182v and 183r–​204v), thus are responsible for several of the sacrificia of Easter week. Mundó thought they were contemporaneous with the first hand; Janini dated them to the thirteenth or fourteenth century. See Janini, Gonzálvez, and Mundó, Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos, 101. Because T5 contains tradition B, it has sometimes been associated with the parish church of Santas Justa y Rufina, Toledo, because an office manuscript with complementary contents, Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, MS 10110, was used at Santas Justa y Rufina. There is, however, no direct evidence for this, and the manuscript’s place of copying remains uncertain. MSC has an ink stamp associating it with the parish of Santas Justa y Rufina. 56. Mundó’s dating in “La datación,” 11; see also Janini, Gonzálvez, and Mundó, Catálogo de los manuscritos litúrgicos, 277. Zapke gives “13th century” (HV, 230), as does Fernández de la Cuesta, Manuscritos y Fuentes, 149. Gómez Muntané, La música medieval en España, 9 and Randel, An Index, xix give “13th century” together with the previous ninth-​century dating. Millares Carlo et al., Corpus de códices visigóticos, 198 gives both Mundó’s dating and a tenth-​ century date. The place of origin for MSC is uncertain, although there is an ink stamp associating the manuscript with the parish of Santas Justa y Rufina (Pinell, “El problema de las dos tradiciones del antiguo rito hispánico: valoración documental de la tradición B en vistas a una eventual revision del ordinario de la misa mozárabe,” in Liturgia y música mozarábes, 3–​44; at 26; Mundó, “La datación,” 11). 57. For example, Ramón Gonzálvez, “The Persistence of the Mozarabic Liturgy in Toledo after a.d. 1080,” in Santiago, Saint-​Denis, and Saint Peter: The Reception of the Roman Liturgy in León-​Castile in 1080, ed. Bernard F. Reilly (New York: Fordham University Press, 1985), 157–​ 86; Richard Hitchcock, Mozarabs in Medieval and Early Modern Spain: Identities and Influences (Aldershot, England; Burlington, VT:  Ashgate, 2008). Noting the silence of the fuero on liturgical matters, Gonzálvez stresses that the purpose and focus of the fuero was judicial.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition by informal agreement in the six Mozarabic parishes later named by Rodrigo Jiménez de Rada (archbishop of Toledo from 1210 to 1249).58 Four extant chant manuscripts have documented connections to these parishes: T4 and T7 (tradition A) to Santa Eulalia, and MSC and the office manuscript BN10 (tradition B) to Santas Justa y Rufina. As noted, an origin in or near Toledo has been proposed for the others. In the traditional view, the parishes associated with these manuscripts were populated by Toledan Christians at the time of Alfonso’s conquest and in the following years. A recent revision of this narrative has important implications for the history of the liturgical practices witnessed in these manuscripts. Miquel Gros i Pujol and Aaron Moreno have both argued that the six Mozarabic parishes named by Jiménez de Rada are unlikely to have existed before 1085, proposing instead that they were built to accommodate an influx of Andalusi immigrants fleeing the Almohads in the 1140s.59 Since Alfonso I  of Aragon had invaded Granada in 1125, Christian communities in Al-​Andalus had increasingly been seen as a potential threat in the ongoing wars of conquest. During persecutions of the 1140s, many Christians emigrated to areas held by the northern kingdoms, including Toledo, and into North Africa. In Moreno’s view, a gradually Romanized liturgy was practiced by both native Toledans and Castilian immigrants after the conquest of Toledo in 1085, with no parishes set aside for the native Christian population. When the Andalusian immigrants arrived in the 1140s, the liturgy had been fully Romanized, and new “Mozarabic” parishes were built to accommodate the immigrants and their traditional liturgy.60 This new understanding has consequences both for the late Toledan manuscripts, used in at least two of the Mozarabic parishes, and for liturgical practice in Al-​Andalus. First, it is consistent with existing theories about the Andalusian origins of tradition B, practiced at the Mozarabic parish of Ss. Iusta y Rufina. Noting Jiménez de Rada’s report that Juan, Bishop of Ecija (about 90 km east of Seville), lived next to Ss. Justa y Rufina, Jordi Pinell proposed that tradition B was brought to Toledo from the southern part of the Peninsula.61 Hitchcock (85–​86) suggests that because the Old Hispanic rite had probably been practiced for some time at that point, its continuance might have been assumed. 58. Juan Fernández Valverde, ed., Historia de Rebus Hispanie siue Historia Gothica, vol. 72, CCCM (Turnhout: Brepols, 1991). 59. Miquel S. Gros i Pujol, “Les sis parròquies Mossàrabs de Toledo,” Revista catalana di teología 36 (2011): 523–​34; Aaron Michael Moreno, “Arabicizing, Privileges, and Liturgy in Medieval Castilian Toledo: The Problems and Mutations of Mozarab Identification (1085–​ 1436)” (PhD diss., University of California Los Angeles, 2012), 148–​94. 60. Moreno, “Arabicizing, Privileges, and Liturgy,” 148–​94. 61. Jordi Pinell, “El problema de las dos tradiciones del antiguo rito hispánico.Valoración documental de la Tradición B en vistas a una eventual revisión del ordinario de la Misa Mozarábe,” in Liturgía y müsica mozarábes,  3–​44.

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222 Songs of Sacrifice According to Jiménez de Rada, the bishops of Medina Siconia, Niebla, and probably Marchena and Malaga had also lived in Toledo in the late twelfth century. Striking corroboration of tradition B and evidence for its practice among Arab-​speaking Christians in Al-​Andulus may be found in a fourteenth-​ century copy of a gospel book in Arabic that was written in 1145, probably for the Christian community in Fès (in modern-​day Morocco), and thought be based on an earlier Andalusian model.62 The gospels for the Lenten Masses preserved in this book, Munich, Aumer 238, are identical to those of T5 (tradition B), differing greatly from the tradition A Lenten gospels. This evangeliary also corresponds to the practice of T5 in observing weekday Lenten masses only on Wednesdays and Fridays.63 The Fès evangeliary, which constitutes the most direct evidence for Christian liturgical practice in Al-​Andalus, strongly supports Pinell’s theory that tradition B was brought to Toledo from the southern part of the Peninsula. An Andalusian use of tradition A, practiced at the Mozarabic parish of Santa Eulalia, is also implied (though not proven) by much of the existing evidence. Andalusi bishops and monks had immigrated in large numbers into the northern kingdoms over centuries, bringing books with them and producing new books.64 But we find no evidence of tradition B in the north, hinting that tradition A was known to at least some of these immigrants. Indeed, L8 itself is believed to have been copied from a southern model.65 The colophon for a late eleventh-​century collection of councils in Arabic, written in Al-​Andalus, also suggests the use of tradition A, naming the date as the first Sunday of Lent “on which the gospel of the Samaritan woman is read.”66 This designation is consistent with both the lectionary of tradition A and with its designation of that 62. Philippe Roisse, “Célébrait-​on les offices liturgiques en arabe dans l’Occident musulman? Étude, édition, et traduction d’un Capitulare Evangeliorum arabe (Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek Cod. Aumer 238),” in ¿Existe una identidad mozárabe?, ed. Cyrille Aillet, Mayte Penelas, and Philippe Roisse (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2008), 211–​54. 63. T5 only preserves gospels from the beginning of Lent through Wednesday of Easter Week, and these are closely matched in the Arabic gospel book. It is not clear how the tradition B lectionary continued beyond this point. The Arabic gospel book continues with readings that correspond to tradition A in much of Easter, but not for major festivals like Ascension and Pentecost. See the comparison in Roisse, “Célébrait-​on les offices liturgiques,” 244–​49. 64. Inter alia, Manuel C. Díaz y Díaz, “La circulation des manuscrits dans la Péninsule Ibérique du VIIIe au XIe siècle,” Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale 13 (1969): 219–​41; 383–​92; Cyrille Aillet, Les Mozarabes: Christianisme, islamisation, et arabisation en Péninsule Ibérique (IXe–​ XIIe siècle) (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 2010), 247–​64. 65. See especially Justo Pérez de Urbel, “El Antifonario de León y su modelo de Beja,” Bracara Augusta 22 (1968): 213–​25. Further references in the Introduction, note 58. 66. P. S. van Koningsveld, “Christian-​Arabic Manuscripts from the Iberian Peninsula and North Africa: A Historical Interpretation,” Al-​Qantara 15 (1994): 423–​51; at 444–​45.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Sunday as the “first Sunday in Lent.”67 Thus, it seems likely that both branches of the Old Hispanic rite were known in Al-​Andalus.

Mozarabic Culture and Liturgy Given the probable ancestral ties of our Toledan manuscripts to Andalusi immigrants, a brief survey of their intellectual culture can help to contextualize both Toledan traditions. Since the publication of Simonet’s Historia de los mozárabes de España in 1903, a variety of agendas and paradigms have shaped the scholarship on Christians living in Islamic Iberia.68 The continuity of Christian culture under Arab rule was challenged in the 1980s and 1990s by a “revisionist” approach that argued for mass conversions to Islam in the decades after the fall of the Visigothic kingdom. In this view, most “Mozarabs” were Christian immigrants from the north.69 If true, this theory would have important consequences for the history of the Old Hispanic rite and its late Toledan witnesses. Recent research, however, has turned away from this narrative and toward nuanced studies of Mozarabic intellectual and cultural history.70 The resulting picture is one of gradual Arabization and cultural assimilation among those who remained Christian. The ninth-​century Córdoban martyrs who come to life in the stories of Paulus Alvarus and Eulogius were exceptional in the strength of their opposition toward any compromise with Islam. Eulogius himself tells us that the martyrs’ actions were widely opposed by Christians.71 When John of Gorze visited Córboda a century later, he disparaged what he saw as a compromised commitment to Christianity in the local community.72 Although the mid-​ninth century saw a small revival of Latin 67. This would be labeled as the second Sunday in tradition B, with a different Gospel reading. 68. See the recent historiographical synthesis in Diego Olstein, “The Mozarabs of Toledo (12th–​13th Centuries) in Historiography, Sources, and History,” in Die Mozaraber: Definitionen und Perspektiven der Forschung, ed. Matthias Maser and Klaus Herbers (Berlin: Hopf, 2011), 151–​86. 69. Mikel de Epalza, “La islamización de al-​Andalus: mozárabes y neomozárabes,” Revista del Institut Egipcio de Estudios Islámicos en Madrid 23 (86 1985):  171–​79; Mikel de Epalza, “Mozarabs:  An Emblematic Christian Minority in Islamic Al-​Andalus,” in The Legacy of Muslim Spain, ed. Salma Khadra Jayyusi (Leiden: Brill, 1992), 149–​79. 70. Particularly important is Aillet, Les mozarabes. Recent refutations of the revisionist view include Alwyn Harrison, “Behind the Curve: Bulliet and the Conversion to Islam in Al-​Andalus Revisited,” Al-​Masāq 24 (2012): 35–​51; and Diego Olstein, “The Mozarabs of Toledo (12th–​13th Centuries) in Historiography, Sources, and History.” 71. Juan Gil, ed., Corpus scriptorum muzarabicorum (Madrid: Instituto Antonio de Nebrija, 1973) 483–​86; and discussion in Kenneth Baxter Wolf, Christian Martyrs in Muslim Spain (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2014), especially 63–​67. 72. Discussion in Ann Christys, Christians in Al-​Andalus 711–​1000. (Hoboken: Taylor and Francis, 2013), 113–​18.

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224 Songs of Sacrifice literary production centered in Córdoba, the authors of these works decry the state of Latin learning, and Latin literary production virtually ceased after the ninth century. In the subsequent centuries, Latin became instead a language for study, evident in the Arabic glossing of Latin manuscripts, and an emblem of Christian identity.73 Learning and intellectual culture continued among Mozarabic elites, who produced a small but significant body of Christian literary works in Arabic over several centuries. In 989, two generations after the Córdoban martyrs, Ḥafṣ ibn Albar al-​Qūṭī, thought to be a son or grandson of Paulus Alvarus, composed a metrical translation of the psalms in Arabic, possibly intended for liturgical use, with titles derived from Jerome and other fathers.74 As he states in his preface, his was not the first Iberian translation of the psalter into Arabic. Books of the Bible, Church councils, and passionaria were also translated, as were some of the patristic works that had been foundational for the Visigothic church, including writings of Isidore, Gregory the Great, and Augustine.75 Together with a new focus on eastern texts, particularly Orosius,76 these works informed a Mozarabic tradition of Christian apologetic literature and anti-​ Islamic polemic.77 Mozarabic polemicists knew Islamic forms of literature and quoted liberally from Islamic texts, indicating a direct familiarity with them.78 In the twelfth century, they fused Eastern Christian teachings with ideas from contemporaneous Latin theologians such as Peter Abelard, in a sign of “remarkable intellectual vitality.”79

73. Aillet, Les mozarabes, 133–​46; José María Casciaro Ramírez, “Las glosas marginales árabes del codex visigothicus legionensis de la vulgata,” Scripta Theologica 2 (1970): 303–​39. 74. Edited and translated into French in Le Psautier mozarabe de Hafs le Goth, ed. Marie-​ Thérèse Urvoy (Toulouse: Presses universitaires du Mirail, 1994). The preface is translated into English in D. M. Dunlop, “Ḥafṣ b. Albar: The Last of the Goths?,” The Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain and Ireland 86 (1954): 137–​51. On Ḥafṣ ibn Albar al-​Qûṭî, see, inter alia, Aillet, Les mozarabes, 221–​31. On possible liturgical performance of these psalms, see Aillet, Les mozarabes, 196–​97; Cyrille Aillet, “Existe-​t-​il une liturgie ‘mozarabe’?,” Cahiers de civilisation médiévale 58 (2015): 378–​86. 75. See summary and references in Matthias N. Tischler, “The Biblical Tradition of the Iberian Peninsula from the Eighth to the Twelfth Centuries Seen from a Typological Standpoint,” Lusitania Sacra, no. 34 (2016):  33–​59; at 48–​50. Also Koningsveld, “Christian-​ Arabic Manuscripts.” 76. Koningsveld, The Latin-​ Arabic Glossary, 45–​52; Koningsveld, “Christian-​Arabic Manuscripts”; Christys, Christians in Al-​Andalus, 135–​57. 77. See, e.g., the discussion of the works of John of Seville in Aillet, Les mozarabes, 214–​ 15, and the discussion of the twelfth-​century Tathlith al-​wahdaniyah in Burman, Religious Polemic,  71–​84. 78. Burman, Religious Polemic, 127–​55; Aillet, Les mozarabes, 213–​36. 79. Burman, Religious Polemic, 157–​89; at 163.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition This unique Mozarabic intellectual culture has left little discernable imprint on the existing liturgy. As the Fès lectionary suggests, readings and probably sermons were in the vernacular, at least in some times and places. Ḥafṣ ibn Albar’s translation indicates that the psalms, too, could be sung in Arabic. Although we cannot rule out the possibility of further liturgical composition in Arabic, Latin seems to have been retained as the primary liturgical language, which implies that earlier liturgical practices were, to a great extent, maintained, standing as a sign of V   isigothic heritage.80 Yet the understanding of the liturgy was undoubtedly shifted in subtle ways by newer concerns with polemicizing to Muslims, the immersion in Arabic culture, and the reading of eastern Christian texts. If Latin chant continued to be sung, as seems likely, Arabization must have left some impact on its performance, at least in pronunciation and vocal quality, albeit in ways lost to us.

Unresolved Questions I: T7 The view that the Toledan Mozarabic parishes were built in the 1140s to accommodate immigrants, while persuasive, leaves us with some unresolved questions about the late Toledan liturgies and their sources. One of these concerns the tradition A manuscript T7, with annotations that connect it to Santa Eulalia. While the dating of all Toledan Old Hispanic manuscripts needs to be revisited, Mundó’s date of 1100 (or somewhat later) would place T7 several decades before the documented existence of the Mozarabic parishes. If this dating is correct, it is possible that T7 was copied for another Toledan church where the traditional liturgy was still practiced, later coming to reside in Santa Eulalia. Given the close connection of T7’s melodies to those of the northern kingdoms, particularly the Rioja region, another possibility is that the manuscript descends from a tradition brought to Toledo by the Castilian immigrants who entered the city after the Christian conquest, though the notational script renders unlikely a northern origin for the manuscript itself. Given that its liturgy is fully in Latin, it is perhaps also unlikely that T7 itself was used by Andalusi Christians before they settled in Toledo.81 The origins of this manuscript thus remain unknown.

80. As Aillet argues in “Existe-​t-​il une liturgie ‘mozarabe’?” 81. The manuscript includes Latin readings for the mass. The Arabic lectionary from Fès suggests that we might expect readings to be in Arabic in Andalusi sources from this time, though practice may of course have varied from place to place. By the thirteenth century, when the other Toledan manuscripts were copied, knowledge of Arabic had waned. See Moreno, “Arabizing,” 99–​106.

225

226 Songs of Sacrifice

Unresolved Questions II: The Two Liturgical Traditions The existing evidence does not speak to the ultimate origins or chronology of traditions A  and B.  The shared contents suggest that the two traditions have a common origin and underwent separate development at some point in their history, but we do not know where and when these developments took place. The Verona Orationale suggests Visigothic origins for much of the material preserved in the later tradition A sources, including chant repertory and liturgical assignments.82 Pinell nonetheless considered tradition B to be the older form of the Old Hispanic liturgy, with some more recent evolutions and corruptions from tradition A.83 José Janini, by contrast, posited that much of tradition B was a simplification of the liturgy for parish use. Janini’s theory accounts for some aspects of tradition B, but it does not explain the existence of a large number of office chants that are absent in tradition A.84 While it would be tempting to see the common contents as an earlier layer of the liturgy, the simultaneous use of both in Toledo provided opportunities for sharing of materials centuries later. The variety of Iberian liturgical practice seems anomalous only from the vantage point of post-​Carolingian liturgical consistency. From a late-​antique and early Medieval perspective, it is the norm, mirroring the situation in pre-​ Carolingian Gaul. There are hints that the Old Hispanic rite was in fact far more diverse than the practices witnessed in the two surviving liturgical traditions would suggest. As explored in Chapter 7, evidence for offertory chants similar to sacrificia may be found in Narbonnaise Gaul—​part of the Visigothic kingdom in the seventh century—​and in a manuscript from North Africa. Moreover, the “neo-​Mozarabic” liturgy compiled in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries has many sacrificia that do not appear in existing manuscripts, perhaps belonging to a lost tradition B manuscript or to yet another branch of the rite.85 What we call the Old Hispanic chant may well be the surviving remnants of a much larger and more varied repertory, practiced within closely connected liturgical traditions.

82. See the discussion in the Introduction, p. 7. 83. Jordi Pinell, “El problema de las dos tradiciones.” 84. For a discussion and critique of the differing views, see Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants: Psalmi, Threni, and the Easter Vigil Canticles (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2013). 85. Rebecca Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and Early History of Plainsong,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 67, no. 1 (2014): 1–​76; at 50–​52.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition

The Melodies of Tradition B The sacrificia preserved in the tradition B manuscripts T5 and MSC, shown in Table 6.2, exhibit a much more distant relationship to the early manuscripts than the Toledo A sources do, with L8 usually being the only basis for comparison. This is encapsulated by the assignment of most of these chants to categories 3 and 4. Only two of these fourteen chants are in category 2, and none are in category 1. Traditions A and B often exhibit a common understanding of melodic rhetoric and textual pacing, usually with a similar number of notes per syllable. The two versions can also show structural parallels, such as using repetition at the same points. The melodic contour, however, is rarely the same for more than three to four pitches at a time. In many instances, then, they are very different realizations of a common underlying melodic structure. In this respect, tradition B opens windows onto a stofflich melodic transmission within the Old Hispanic rite. In the following analysis, I examine these melodies from two angles. First, I compare the cadential formulas in T5 and MSC’s sacrificia to those in L8. I then turn to a comparison of individual melodies. Tradition B’s cadences share aspects of melodic grammar with tradition A’s, but with some different contours and neume patterns. Table 6.3 shows a sampling of Type 1 cadences in the sacrificia of T5 and MSC, along with equivalents (exact contour matches), possible equivalents (compatible contours), or close matches in L8. The cadences are labeled according to the system introduced in Chapter 4: Roman numerals categorize the cadences of each type according to Table 6.2  Degrees of Resemblance between Melodies of Traditions A and B Chant

Manuscripts

Category

Aedificavit Moyses altare L8, T5

4–​5

Alleluia angelus

L8, T5

4

Ecce agnus

L8, T5

2

Hii dies

L8, T5

4

In pascha

L8, T5

4

In tempore illo

L8, T5

3–​4

Ingressus . . . in domum

L8, T5

3

Isti sunt dies quos

L8, T5

3

Offerte domino mundum L8, T5

3–​4

Sacerdos Zacharias

L8, MSC

3

Sacrificium

L8, T5

3

Serviamus

L8, T5

5

Sollemnem

L8, T5

2

Venite benedicti

L8, MSC, A30, BL45, S3, T4

3 (with all versions)

227

Table 6.3  Selected Type 1 Cadences in Tradition B Manuscripts, with Identical or Compatible Cadences in L8 Material on antepenultimate syllable

T5 cadence

Contour equivalent or compatible cadence in L8

I. NHL 0. NHL only (gapped or joined)

Isti sunt dies quos (and seven other instances) f. 96

Stans sacerdos

 f. 39 3. NH+NHL

Fulgebit

Isti sunt dies quos

 f.

 f. 41

96 II. NLH

In tempore (4 other instances) f. 117  f. 154v

IV. NHLH 0. NHLH only

Aedificavit

Compatible pattern: Alleluia prima  f. 135v

IV. NHLH 2. NL+NHLH

Offerte domino mundum (one other instance)

 f. 190 The last 7 notes are gesturally compatible with Sanctificavit

 f. 305

 f. 8 3. NH+NHLH

Sacrificium deo

VII. NH

Ingressus dominus

No equivalent in L8’s Type 1 cadences  f. 71v Audi Israhel . . . quia

 f. 123v XI. NHHL

 f. 269v Fulgebit

Aedificavit

 f. 41v 135v

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition the last neume of antepenultimate syllable in Type 1 cadences, the penultimate syllable in Type 2 cadences, and the final syllable in Type 3 cadences. Arabic numbers subdivide these categories, indicating the penultimate neume on these syllables. (A complete table showing all the cadences in the tradition B sacrificia may be found in online appendix 10.) In Type 1 cadences, typically comprising the last three syllables of the phrase, the similarities and differences between traditions A and B can be illustrated by considering the material on each syllable. On the last syllable, all tenth-​and eleventh-​century tradition A manuscripts usually have either N (single note) or NH.This is matched in T5, but with a strong preference for the single note, as shown in the sampling of Table 6.3.86 The treatment of the penultimate syllable in this cadence type varies by regional tradition, with preferences for NH or NHH in L8, NH or NHL in the Rioja sources, and a single note or NHL in Toledo A.87 T5 is more closely connected to L8 here than to the Rioja tradition: NHH occurs 10/​36 times, NH 13 times, and N, the preferred choice in Toledo A, 13 times. None of T5’s Type 1 cadences use NHL, the Rioja preference. In contrast to L8, however, the choice of NH or NHH does not appear to correlate with the contour of the previous syllable.88 Differences emerge in the treatment of the antepenultimate syllable of Type 1 cadences. Most neumes that serve as the final element on this syllable (indicated with Roman numerals), such as NHL (I) and NLH (II), are also frequently found in this position in L8, as shown in Table 6.3. Moreover, some of the notational groupings on this syllable, such as NH + NHL (I.3), also have parallels in L8. NHLH (IV), however, occurs frequently in this context in T5, whereas it never does so in the Type 1 cadences of tradition A manuscripts. Tradition B’s use of this neume on the antepenultimate syllable of Type 1 cadences is thus an index of its notational independence from tradition A manuscripts. Despite these notational differences, some of the Type 1 cadences that use NHLH in tradition B are gesturally compatible with patterns that appear frequently in L8 and other early sources. These compatibilities may be found among cadences that use the final neume NLH in the early sources—​a large category of Type 1 cadences. The short melisma (NH + NHL + NHLH), found several times in tradition B, is compatible in contour (in its last 7 notes) with one of the most common tradition A cadential patterns, (NH + NH + NLH).89 In cases such as these, the neumes leave 86. In some cases, there is no notation over this syllable, implying a single note, a phenomenon observed in some of the eleventh-​century northern manuscripts. 87. Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects,” 42–​52. 88. See the discussion in Chapter 4, p. 110. 89. See online appendices 3a and 3b, II.3.b.

229

230 Songs of Sacrifice us with too many unknown contours (represented by N) to determine whether T5 and the tradition A sources represent the same shapes. What is clear is that this notational pattern is very common at cadences in all tradition A manuscripts, including the late Toledan sources, but is extremely rare in tradition B’s cadences. If T5’s gesturally compatible pattern represents a different melodic contour than the tradition A cadence, it would underline the status of tradition B as a different melodic dialect.90 If, on the other hand, the tradition B cadence represents a similar melodic contour with a different neume grouping, it would exemplify the notational and scribal independence of tradition B and imply a primarily oral relationship between the two traditions. Similar parallels and differences between the two traditions are evident in Type 2 and Type 3 cadences. Just as in tradition A, Type 2 cadences in tradition B (sampling in Table 6.4) usually have N or NL on the final syllable, but occasionally an alternative shape like NLH. In tradition B, the penultimate syllable is accommodated with large set of gestures, indicated by Roman numerals, most of which occur in the same position in L8. Some two-​note groups, such as NH  + NHLH (IV.2), even have the same neume groupings in L8. However, T5’s most common Type 2 cadence, with NHH + NH (VII.2) on the penultimate syllable, lacks an exact equivalent in L8. These differences further underline the melodic and/​or scribal independence of tradition B. The most substantial differences in cadential vocabulary between traditions A and B emerge in Type 3 cadences (Table 6.5). Three Type 3 cadential neumes that occur more than once in the tradition B sacrificia, NHLL (XXIV), NLLH (XIV), and NLL (XXIII), have no equivalent in the Type 3 cadences of the tradition A repertory. Moreover, some of the most common closing gestures in tradition A’s Type-​3 cadences, such as NLHL, have no counterparts in T5’s sacrificia. Despite the independence of tradition B, certain aspects of its melodic grammar are shared with tradition A, attesting to their common roots. These grammatical parallels extend beyond the use of the same three basic cadence types. Perhaps the most telling commonality lies in how certain cadential types are adapted for proparoxytone endings. In the tradition A sources, this adaptation occurs in certain Type 1 cadences, as shown in Chapter 4. A three-​syllable pattern is distributed over four syllables, in contexts strongly associated with the melodic contour on the ending of the antepenultimate syllable.91 Tradition B 90. As argued in Randel, Responsorial Psalm Tones; and Hornby and Maloy, “Melodic Dialects.” 91. See the discussion in Chapter 4, pp. 123–24.

Table 6.4  Selected Type 2 Cadences in Tradition B Manuscripts and Their Equivalents in L8 Cadential material on penultimate syllable

T5 cadential material

Contour equivalent or compatible cadence in L8

I NHL

Ecce agnus

Data est lex

0. NHL onlya

f. 81v f.189 II. NLH

In pascha

0. NLH only

(3 other instances)

Ingressus est Daniel

f. 64 f. 197 XX. NHHH+

Ingressus . . . in domum

HLH

(one other instance)

Sanctificavit (shape is rare in L8)

f. 305 f. 123v IV. NHLH 0. NHLH only

Ingressus . . . in domumb

Venite benedicti

f. 123v 30v 2. NL+NHLH

In tempore (one other instance

Angelus domini venit (rare in L8)

  3. NH+NHLH

f. 117v

f. 252

Isti sunt (six other instances)

Ego dominus

f. 96

f. 232 (continued )

Table 6.4 Continued Cadential material on penultimate syllable

T5 cadential material

Contour equivalent or compatible cadence in L8

NL+NL+NHLH

Hii dies (one other instance)

Last 5 notes are gesturally compatible with NH NH NLH Locutus est . . . ecce

f. 25

f. 217; and NH NL NLH Locutus est . . . ecce

f. 271 VII NH

Ecce agnus (2 other instances)

Venient

f. 189 f. 54v VII. 2 NHH+NH

Isti sunt (9 other instances)

Gesturally compatible with NHHLH Locutus est . . . ad principem

f. 96

f. 273; and NH+NLH Sacerdos Zacharias

f. 215v XI. NHHL or NUHL

In pascha “sempiterunum” (4 other instances)

Sacerdos Zacharias

f. 215v f. 197 The NLH on the final syllable is a trait sometimes found in Type 2 cadences in L8. NH + NL on the last syllable is rare in L8, but does happen occasionally.

a

b

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Table 6.5  Selected Type 3 Cadences in Tradition B Closing material on final syllable

Tradition B (images are from T5 unless otherwise noted)

L8

I. NHL Type 3

Hii dies

Sanctificavit f.25

III. NULH

Venite, end of “fulgebunt” melisma,

V. NSHL

Serviamus (one other instance)

f. 305 Not used in Type 3 cadences of L8

MSC f. 21v 2. NL+NSHL

Alleluia elegerunt, last syllable of “dei”

f. 157 f. 74v IV. NHLH

Aedificavit

f. 135v XI. NHHL

Ingressus . . . in domum

0. NHHL only. 1. or N+NHHL

(8 other instances) f. 123v

XII. NL

Aedificavit

XIV. NLLH

Offerte, end of melisma on “honorem”

Serviamus I, end of “Moysi” melisma f. 121 (shape is rare in L8’s Type 3 cadences) Omnis populus, end of “sanctificaverunt” 188v

Not used in L8’s Type 3 cadences

(2 other instances) f. 135v Not used in L8’s Type 3 cadences

(3 other instances) f. 8 (continued )

233

234 Songs of Sacrifice Table 6.5 Continued Closing material on final syllable

Tradition B (images are from T5 unless otherwise noted)

L8

XX. NHHLL

Ecce agnus, “gloria”

Sicut cedrus, end of “Syon” melisma

(two other instances) f. 189

XXIII. NLL

Type 3 cadence: Hii dies

101v (Shape is very rare in L8’s Type 3 cadences) Not used in L8’s Type 3 cadences

(one other instance) f.25 XXIV NHLL

Isti sunt dies quos

No equivalent in L8

(two other instances) f. 96

has a similar four-​syllable adaptation, though it does not seem to be correlated with contour in the same way.92 Tradition B also has an equivalent to L8’s Type 4 cadence. This cadence, appearing mostly in the León tradition, is strongly associated with proparoxytones;93 standard material comprises the last 3 or 4 syllables. T5’s equivalent of this cadence, also associated with proparoxytones, consists of four syllables, with single notes on the last three.94 To summarize, tradition B shares certain principles of cadential grammar with L8, along with some contours that imply shared cadential formulas. Some of its cadential formulas, however, differ substantially from tradition A’s, particularly in Type 3 cadences. When the contours of these cadential shapes are compatible, they are often written with different neume groupings. Despite the similarities in cadential grammar, moreover, melodies of the two traditions

92. See examples in online appendix 10. 93. See online appendix 3d. 94. Reflecting the preference for single notes in the Toledan manuscripts. The seven instances are shown in online appendix 10.

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition often use different cadences at the same points in the chant. Toledo A  and Toledo B, then, differ in their relationship to the early sources. Most of Toledo A’s cadential formulas are melodically identical to those of the early manuscripts, and they are often written with the same neume groupings. As noted, T4 and T7 may in fact be related to the early sources through exemplars. With T5 and MSC, such a notion is untenable. The hypothesis of an oral relationship between the two traditions is borne out in a comparison of individual melodies. The similarities between them, such as the placement and length of melismas, suggest descent from a common tradition, but with few surface similarities. (Similarities in contour are indicated in boldface.) In the section of Venite benedicti beginning “cum venerit” (Example 6.10), the placement of three of the longest melismas constitutes the most notable similarity: in both versions, they occur on “omnes,” fulgebunt,” and “sol.” These parallels evince a shared approach to musical rhetoric. In each version, the “fulgebunt” and “sol” melismas close with the same melodic material, underlining the text’s simile between the shining of the just and the sun. In L8, the last three neumes form a common ten-​note cadential ending associated with Type 2 cadences,95 and the last three neumes of MSC are identical (Example 6.10a and b, circle 1). The material shared between the two melismas, however, extends to the neumes preceding this cadential ending, comprising the previous 3 neumes (12 notes) in L8 and the previous two neumes (9 notes) in MSC. This material is different in the two versions (circle 2 in each). L8’s material is a common melisma segment, which is stated twice in the “fulgebunt” melisma (circles 2 and 3); in MSC’s “fulgebit” melisma, it is used only once.96 The repetition of material at the same place in both versions nonetheless is an important structural similarity.The two versions sometimes have similar cadences or cadence types: a nearly identical at Type 1 cadence, for example, appears in both versions at “majestate sua,”and a compatible Type 2 cadence at “iusti.”97 Differences between the two versions, however, are evident throughout. L8 has a long melisma on the last syllable of “hominis” that is lacking in MSC. Passages where the two share more than three consecutive contours are rare. In these respects, Venite benedicti is broadly representative of tradition A and B melodies. Certain aspects of musical structure, such as the placement of long melismas and the use of repetition, were retained in the oral tradition, whereas surface details changed. Given the centrality and cultural importance of musical rhetoric (as argued in Chapter 5), it is not surprising to find these characteristics maintained in both settings of the text.

95. See online appendix 3b,VII.4a. 96. For other instances of this segment ending, see online appendix 6, D. 97. The cadences for this chant in L8 are labeled and discussed in Chapter 4, Example 4.1.

235

236 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.10.  Venite, “Cum venerit” section a. MSC, 21v

b. L8, 30v

Text: Cum ve MSC N L8

-​ne -​r it fi

-​li-​us

ho

-​mi

-​nis

/​NHH-​N -​N/​NHH -​N-​NL /​NHH-​N NLH-​ NHLH

NHH /​NSH-​NL-​N/​NHHH-​N-​NLL/​NH -​NLL in

ma -​ge -​sta

-​NLL NLL NUL NS NH

-​te

su -​a

MSC

NL NHH/​NH-​N-​N NHL NHH NUL

L8

N-​NL /​NH-​N-​N N NHH NHH NUL -​N NHL   /​ NH-​NH et

-​NHL

/​NH-​N

om-​

MSC

NH/​N NL NHH NUL NUL NH N N N NHL NHL NHH NUL NUL NH NHH NHL

L8:

NH/​NHLH N NL NHL NH NSSHL NUL NUL NSHLH N NSHLH NH NSSNL

[melisma, cont.]

-​nes

NUL NUL NSH NHH NH NLH

-​N NS NH

MSC L8:

-​N NHHL

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Example 6.10.  Continued an -​ge -​li

cum

e

-​o

MSC

NH -​NHL-​NH/​NH NHL/​ NHH-​N

L8:

NHL-​NLH-​N /​NSH tunc

ful

/​NH -​N

-​ge

MSC

NHH /​ NH-​N NHH NULHLL . . . .

L8

N NH /​NH-​NHLH N N NHL NHH NHLH NLHL [melisma, cont.]

iu

-​sti

. . . NHH NLL NULH -​NHL NHH NH-​NL

MSC L8

-​bunt

NHH NHLH NLHL NHH NLL NS NH -​NHHL NHHLH -​NL si -​cut

sol

MSC

N-​N

L8

N-​NHH/​NH NHL NHH NHLH NLHL NHH NLL NS NH

/​NH NS NHL N N NHL NHH NULHLL NHH NLL NULH

in re

-​gno

de

-​i

MSC

/​N/​N NHH -​NL /​NHH-​N

L8

/​N/​N NSS

-​NLL /​NSH-​N

The brief sacrificium Offerte domino mundum (Example 6.11) shows a similar pattern: underlying structural similarity with marked differences in contour. In both traditions, this sacrificium has a very rare melodic form for the genre: the first section has its own melody, whereas sections II and III have the same melody, adapted for a longer text. In each version, “Gloria et honor” in III based on “offerte domino” in II (Examples 6.11a and b, circles 3 and 6), “saeculorum amen” in III is very similar to “et honorem mundum” in II (circles 5 and 9); and “in saecula” in III repeats “gloriam” in II (circles 4 and 8). This repetitive aspect of the chant’s structure was remembered in the oral tradition. The two versions, however, have different ways of creating section III’s melody from the material of section II. At the beginning of section III, for example, T5’s repetition of the opening of section II is more exact, corresponding to it on a syllable-​by-​syllable basis (6.10b, circles 3 and 6). L8 has a less literal repetition of the opening of II, beginning with a standard opening on “gloria” and compressing the melodic material on the last two syllables of “offerte” into the melisma on the first syllable of “honor” (6.10a, circles 3 and 6).

237

238 Songs of Sacrifice Example 6.11.  Offerte domino mundum a. L8, 111

b. T5, 8

Of T5 NH -​NHHLL L8

-​fer -​te

do

-​mi

-​no

-​NL NHL

N NHHH -​NH HL

-​NHHL

NHH -​N NHL NL NL-​NS NH NHL N NHH NLH-​NL NH NLL NS NHLH -​N mun-​dum sa

-​cri

-​fi

-​ci

-​um

T5 N -​N

NHL-​NHHL NLL-​NHH-​NHH-​NH NHHL

L8

N

N -​NH Of

T5 N

-​NHHLHL -​NHH-​NHH-​N NH NH NLHL

-​fer

-​te

-​NH

-​NLH NHH/​NHH-​N-​NL NHHL/​

do

-​mi -​no

glo-

am -​N

L8

NHH-​NHHH-​NHH

T5

NL NHL/​NL -​NHHL -​NUL NH N N NLL N

L8

N NHL/​ NSH-​NH NH-​NHL NUL N NS NH NLH NSH

et

ho

/​NHH-​N-​NS N NH NHL

​r i-​

/​NH N NL NHLH -​N

-​no

/​NH NS NUL

-​NHH -​N

-​rem

Glo-​r i

-​a

T5

N -​NH

-​NLH NHH /​NHH/​N

et

L8

N -​NHH-​N

/​N/​

ho

-​nor -​NL NHHL

pa

-​tri

/​NH

-​N

N NHH NHHH NHH -​N NS N NH NHL/​NH NS NULH-​N

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition Example 6.11.  Continued et fi

-​li

T5 N /​N L8

-​o

et spi

-​r i -​tu

-​NHL-​N /​N-​N-​ N-​N

-​i

NH/​N NHL-​NS -​NL /​N-​N-​ N-​NHL-​NLH in

se

-​cu

T5

NH/​NH N NL NHLH -​N

L8

NSH/​NH NS NUL a

-​la

sae-​cu-​lo

-​N/​N

-​NHH-​N/​.. N

san

-​NHLH/​NH N

-​cto -​N -​NHL NS NLH -​rum

-​N-​N NHL-​NL/​ -​N-​N NHL  –​NSH/​

-​men

T5

NHHL -​NUL NH NH NLL NL

L8

NH NH-​NHL NULH NS NH NLH NSHa

The final neume could also be read as NH NL. See Emily Wride, “Old Hispanic Notation: A Palaeographical Case Study.” MA diss., University of Bristol, 2018. a

The two versions also differ in the central portion of section III, beginning with the cadence on “patri” (6.11a and b, circle 7). The ending of the phrase with this two-​syllable word precludes a literal repetition of the three-​syllable, Type  1 cadence on “gloriam” (circle 4)  and the two versions make different adjustments: L8 simply adapts the same material to a Type 2 cadence (the first syllables of “gloriam” and “patri” are identical), whereas T5 has a simple NH-​N cadential pattern on “patri.” Finally, T5 has a more simple recitation than L8 on “et spiritui sancto.” Despite their commonalities in structure and melodic form, L8 and T5 are very different on a syllable-​by-​syllable basis, rarely having the same melodic contour for more than a few syllables at a time (see the parallel transcriptions in  6.11). Three of the four cadences, however, are of the same types: “sacrificium” and “honorem” have Type 3 (circles 2 and 5), “gloriam” has Type 1 (circle 4).98 The versions are most divergent in section III, partly, as we have seen, because of different approaches to adapting the material of section II. In this case, what was retained in the oral tradition was the principle that the melody of III would be modeled on that of II. The substance of the stofflich transmission, in this case, lay in a particular melodic form that was remembered in a living and changing tradition. 98. In section 1, however, the two versions treat the text division differently: L8 has a Type 2 cadence at “domino,” separating the indirect and direct objects, whereas T5 is probably best interpreted as treating “domino” and “mundum” as part of the same phrase. It is possible that the NHHL at the end of “domino” is a Type 3 cadence, followed by a new phrase opening on “mundum.” In most cases, however, this shape is written a different way when it signifies a Type 3 cadence in T5. See “sacrificium” in section I and “domino” in section II.

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240 Songs of Sacrifice

Conclusions In this chapter, I have employed several continuums—​oral-​written, consistent-​ variant, and wörtlich-​stofflich—​as conceptual models for considering the Old Hispanic melodies. The tenth-​and eleventh-​ century manuscripts evince a written tradition, both through the use of exemplars and through certain correlations between notation and melodic function, pointing to a common culture of musical literacy. Variants between these manuscripts, however, suggest that the exemplars were used with reference to the scribes’ aural, internalized understanding of the melodies, which was not uniform across regions. Within tradition A, melodic consistency was a nonetheless high priority. The tradition B melodies, by contrast, vary greatly from tradition A’s and show no evidence of descent from this written tradition. I would argue that the two traditions appear have a common oral origin, probably dating to a time before notation was widely used on the Peninsula. The two Toledan traditions are markedly different in this respect. Toledo tradition A is consistent with the early manuscripts from the northern kingdoms, particularly the Rioja tradition, but with certain elements that mark its independence; tradition B is far more distant from the early sources. Each group of Toledan manuscripts has putative ancestral ties to Arabized Christians, and possibly to immigrant communities from Al-​Andalus. One is connected to the early manuscripts through a wörtlich transmission, and possibly through exemplars. The other shows a more distant, stofflich, and oral connection to the early sources. A  comparison of the cadences with those of tradition A, moreover, reinforces the impression that tradition B is a separate melodic dialect. If their common ancestor dates back to a time before notation was widely used, traditions A  and B would exemplify what Kenneth Levy called “multiples,” whose “music in common may represent an earlier ‘oral’ formulation.”99 What was remembered in the oral tradition here was not melodic contour on a note-​by-​note or syllable-​by-​syllable basis. Rather, it was aspects of musical structure: placement of melismas (particularly in Venite), melodic structure (Offerte), and often, cadence types (both examples).100 Although the shared

99. While the Toledo B sources do not meet Levy’s criterion of being “early,” it is possible that they meet the criterion of being close to the time of oral transmission. Kenneth Levy, “On Gregorian Orality,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 43 (1990): 185–​227. Reprinted in Kenneth Levy, Gregorian Chant and the Carolingians (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1998), 141–​77; at 148. 100. A further example is Ingressus dominus. Although L8 and T5 show only passing points of direct similarity, both versions have melodic repetition at many of the same points, suggesting a common origin, though each version also has points of melodic repetition that is not in the other version. Each version, for example, repeats material at “cogitationes eorum” and “dixit ad eos”; and “qui tangit eum” and “mulieri.”

The Broader Old Hispanic Tradition melodic roots of the two traditions cannot be dated or localized, they point to a tradition that was once consistent at the stofflich level but variant at the wörtlich level: certain structural aspects were retained in each performance, but melodic details changed. The two surviving traditions, in fact, may be remnants of a tradition that was once more variable. One of these practices crystallized into the consistent tradition we find in the northern and Toledo A manuscripts. Whether this took place before the introduction of notation or through its use, these manuscripts reflect a transition to a primarily wörtlich tradition, guided by a priority placed on note-​for-​note sameness. While the impetus behind this change may have been a Carolingian influence, evident in the valuing of systemization and consistency, it could just as plausibly lay in the neo-​Visigothic impulse to capture and preserve Visigothic heritage. Another practice developed into tradition B.

241

7

Connections beyond Hispania

T

hus far, we have focused on how sacrificia functioned within the intellectual, political, and devotional milieu of Visigothic Iberia and their use on the Peninsula in later centuries. The Old Hispanic liturgy and chant, however, did not emerge in isolation. Prior to the Carolingian reforms, Western liturgical traditions were shaped by travel and exchange in a plethora of directions. Offertories have played an essential role in musicologists’ understanding of these relationships. In order to contextualize the Iberian practice, this c­ hapter explores how the sacrificium relates to offertory chants in other liturgical traditions, yielding insight into its prehistory and the influences that shaped its development. Non-​psalmic offertories with a sacrificial theme extend far beyond the sacrificia examined thus far. For example, the Missale mixtum, the product of efforts to restore the Old Hispanic rite in the sixteenth century, contains twelve sacrificium texts that are not known elsewhere, most likely taken from manuscripts that are no longer extant. These chants, belonging either to tradition B or to another branch of the Old Hispanic rite, resemble the extant Old Hispanic repertory in their themes, biblical typologies, and reworking of the biblical sources.1 As I  show here, the same kinds of offertories, in smaller numbers, are found in the Milanese liturgy, in locally preserved repertories within the Franco-​Roman liturgy, a manuscript thought to be from North Africa, and a Gallican lectionary from the beginning of the sixth century. Where notated versions exist, offertories across Western liturgical traditions also share musical traits, such as a multisectional form with refrains and long melismas with repeat structures. Further parallels are evident in the handful of sacrificium texts that circulate as offertories or responsories in other liturgical traditions. These connections indicate that the sacrificium was part of a larger, pan-​ European tradition, whose practice extended into southern Gaul, northern Italy, North Africa, and Rome. One source, in particular, suggests a sixth-​century 1. Rebecca Maloy, “Old Hispanic Chant and Early History of Plainsong,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 67, no. 1 (2014): 1–​76; at 49–​52. Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

Connections beyond Hispania prehistory for the sacrificium. In the other existing chant repertories, however, these types of offertories constitute only a small portion. The Old Hispanic repertory was thus exceptional in its concentration of these particular kinds of chants, perhaps because they were so well suited to the educational and devotional milieu of Visigothic Hispania. After exploring these other repertories, I turn to musical questions, illustrating certain commonalities in style between the Old Hispanic and Gregorian offertories. The following textual and musical analysis relies mostly on terminology that has become traditional in chant scholarship. Accordingly, “Gallican liturgy” and “Gallican chant” refer to the practices that prevailed in Gaul before the Carolingian reforms in the eighth and ninth centuries. “Franco-​Roman liturgy” and “Franco-​Roman chant” or “Gregorian chant” designate the blend of Frankish and Roman elements that emerged during the Carolingian liturgical reforms.2 “Roman liturgy” refers simply to the liturgy of Rome, and “Old Roman chant” to the tradition recorded in Roman chant books copied between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries. Finally, I refer to newly composed chant produced during the Carolingian reforms as “Frankish.”

Prehistory of the Sacrificium, I: Pre-​Carolingian Gaul Although scholars have long connected the Old Hispanic liturgy and chant to that of pre-​Carolingian Gaul, our knowledge of the Gallican repertory is based on fragmentary shards of evidence. In the absence of Gallican chant books, scholars have sought Gallican survivals among existing repertories, relying on indirect evidence.3 The hypothesized connection between the sacrificium and its Gallican equivalents nonetheless necessitates a look at the Gallican evidence, in order to posit a broader context for the sacrificium.The understanding of the sacrificia established in previous chapters positions us to reexamine the connections between Iberia and Gaul, bringing together evidence for the Gallican offertory that has not been considered holistically. The Gallican liturgy was defined, first and foremost, by diversity.4 The Fourth Council of Toledo’s call, in 633, for a single “ordo psallendi” “throughout all 2. Although the “Romaness” of the Franco-​Roman liturgy has been challenged from different perspectives, I believe this description remains valid as a general narrative. For a forceful argument against it, see Yitzhak Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy in Frankish Gaul to the Death of Charles the Bald (877) (London: Boydell and Brewer, 2001). 3. For example, Kenneth Levy, “Toledo, Rome, and the Legacy of Gaul,” Early Music History 4 (1984): 44–​99. Further discussion and references below, pp. 245–46. 4. Inter alia, Michel Huglo, “Altgallikanische Liturgie,” in Geschichte der katholischen Kirchenmusik, ed. Karl Gustav Fellerer (Kassel:  Bärenreiter, 1972), 219–​ 33;Yitzhak Hen, “Unity in Diversity:  The Liturgy of Frankish Gaul before the Carolingians,” Studies in Church History 32 (1996):  59–​83; Els Rose, “Liturgical Commemoration of Saints in the

243

244 Songs of Sacrifice of Hispania and Gaul” has often been cited as evidence for a close resemblance between the Gallican and Old Hispanic rites.5 But “Gaul” here surely refers only to Septimania, the part of southeast Gaul was that in the Visigothic kingdom, since this was the only Gallican region under the Iberian bishops’ jurisdiction.6 In order to consider the connections between Old Hispanic and Gallican practice more broadly, we must understand “Gallican liturgy” inclusively, as incorporating a variety of practices found throughout Septimania, Merovingian Gaul, and probably extending into areas of northern Italy. The extant Gallican liturgical books, including lectionaries, sacramentaries, and benedictionals, share some liturgical texts with the Old Hispanic books, pointing to contact between these traditions.7 Isolated examples of Old Hispanic chant are also found in Aquitanian manuscripts representing the Franco-​ Roman liturgy.8 Many of the texts in the existing Gallican books, however,

Missale gothicum (vat. Reg. lat. 317): New Approaches to the Liturgy of Medieval Gaul,” Vigilae Christianae 58 (2004):  75–​97; Yitzhak Hen, “The Liturgy of the Bobbio Missal,” in The Bobbio Missal: Liturgy and Religious Culture in Merovingian Gaul, ed. Yitzhak Hen and Rob Meens (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 140–​53. 5. Toledo IV, canon II, “.  .  .  per omnem Spaniam atque Galliam,” in José Vives, ed., Concilios visigóticos y hispano-​romanos (Barcelona; Madrid: Consejo superior de investigaciones científicas, Instituto Enrique Flórez, 1963), 188. 6. For introductions to this region and its blend of Gallican and Iberian cultural influences, see Edward James, “Septimania and Its Frontier:  An Archaeological Approach,” in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. Edward James (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1980), 223–​42; and Gisela Ripoll López, “Las relaciones entre la Península Ibérica y la Septimania entre los siglos V y VIII, según los hallazgos arqueológicos,” in L’Europe héritière de l’Espagne wisigothique:  Colloque international du C.N.R.S.  tenu à la Fondation Singer-​Polignac (Paris, 14–​16 mai 1990), ed. Jacques Fontaine and Christine Pellistrandi (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 1992), 285–​302. 7. For a recent synthesis of scholarship, see Nathan Chase, “Liturgical Preservation, Innovation, and Exchange,” Worship 92 (2018): 415–35. Earlier scholarship includes, inter alia, Louis Brou, “Encore les ‘Spanish Symptoms’ et leur contre-​partie,” Hispania sacra 7 (1954): 467–​85; Roger Reynolds, “The Visigothic Liturgy in the Realm of Charlemagne,” in Studies on Medieval Liturgical and Legal Manuscripts from Spain and Italy (Farnham: Ashgate, 2009), 919–​45; Emma Hornby and Rebecca Maloy, Music and Meaning in Old Hispanic Lenten Chants: Psalmi, Threni and the Easter Vigil Canticles (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2013), 244–​301. 8. Michel Huglo, “Les ‘Preces’ des Graduels aquitains empruntées a la liturgie hispanique”; Miguel S. Gros, “El Ordo Romano-​Hispánico de Narbona para la Consagración de Iglesias,” Hispania Sacra 19 (1966): 321–​401; Carmen Rodríguez Suso, “Les chants pour la dédicace des églises dans les anciennes liturgies de la Septimanie: leur contexte liturgique et leur transmission musicale,” in L’art du chantre carolingien: découvrir l’esthétique première du chant grégorien; le Colloque “L’Art de Chantre Carolingien” (mars 1996) eut lieu grâce au soutien de la Ville de Metz, ed. Marie-​Noël Colette and Christian-​Jacques Demollière (Metz: Metz Serpenoise, 2004), 91–​102.

Connections beyond Hispania are not in the Old Hispanic sources, underlining the diversity of the pre-​ Carolingian liturgies. When materials are shared, it is seldom clear whether they originated in Gaul, in Iberia, or were separately borrowed from a third tradition.9 Liturgical exchanges between Gaul and Iberia probably occurred in both directions and over a long period, at times through the mediation of Irish monks who settled in Gaul.10 Further exchanges may have taken place after the Carolingian reforms, when Visigothic refugees settled in southern Gaul.11 These factors make it difficult, if not impossible, to “delineate clear-​cut boundaries between what is ‘Gallican’ and what is not.”12 Criteria for identifying examples of Gallican chant have included particular textual, melodic, or notational traits;13 the circulation of an item in more than one Western liturgical tradition, such as Old Hispanic, Milanese, or

9. Edmund Bishop’s “Spanish Symptoms,” Journal of Theological Studies 8 (1907): 278–​95, still often cited, assumed that Iberia was a borrower rather than a lender, a tendency also followed in some later scholarship. Brou in “Encore les ‘Spanish Symptoms’ ” offered a useful corrective. See also E. A. Lowe, “Notes on the Parallel Forms in Early Texts,” in The Bobbio Missal: Notes and Studies (London: Harrison, 1924), 107–​47. 10. Many have proposed a route of book travel, including liturgical books, from Iberia to Ireland to Gaul. Inter alia, J. N. Hillgarth, “Visigothic Spain and Early Christian Ireland,” Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy: Archaeology, Culture, History, Literature 62 (1961): 167–​94; Joseph A Crehan, “The Liturgical Trade Route:  East to West,” Studies:  An Irish Quarterly Review 65 (1975):  87–​99; Michael Curran, The Antiphonary of Bangor and the Early Irish Monastic Liturgy (Dublin: Irish Academic Press, 1984). On the recent redating of Irish manuscripts and their implications for this transmission, Marina Smyth,“Isidorian Texts in Seventh-​ Century Ireland,” in Isidore of Seville and His Reception in the Early Middle Ages: Transmitting and Transforming Knowledge, ed. Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood (Amsterdam:  Amsterdam University Press, 2016), 111–​30. Exchange, however, could go in a variety of directions. For example, Peter Jeffery proposes an Irish origin for the Bobbio Missal, a Gallican book that shares some elements with the Old Hispanic rite, in “Eastern and Western Elements in the Irish Monastic Prayer of the Hours,” in The Divine Office in the Latin Middle Ages: Methodology, Source Studies, Regional Developments, Hagiography, ed. Margot Fassler and Rebecca Baltzer (New York: Oxford University Press, 2000), 99–​143. By contrast,Yitzhak Hen, “The Nature and Character of the Early Irish Liturgy,” in L’Irlanda e gli irlandesi nell’alto medioevo: Spoleto, 16–​21 aprile 2009 (Spoleto: Presso la sede della fondazione, 2010), 353–​80, sees the Irish liturgy (the Stowe Missal in particular) as essentially Gallican and argues for a transmission of material from Gaul to Ireland. 11. Roger Reynolds, “The Visigothic Liturgy in the Realm of Charlemagne”; Pierre Riché, “Les réfugiés wisigoths dans la monde carolingienne, in L’Europe héritière de l’Espagne wisigothique: Colloque international du C.N.R.S. tenu à la Fondation Singer-​Polignac (Paris, 14–​16 mai 1990), ed. Jacques Fontaine and Christine Pellistrandi (Madrid: Casa de Velázquez, 1992), 177–​84. 12. Hen, “The Liturgy of the Bobbio Missal,” 143. 13. For a summary of these traits, Michel Huglo, “Altgallikanische Liturgie”; Jane Bellingham, Michel Huglo, and Marcel Zijlstra, “Gallican Chant,” ed. Stanley Sadie and J. Tyrrell, New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians (London: Macmillan, 2001).

245

246 Songs of Sacrifice Franco-​Roman;14 a presence within a particular local repertory;15 or a use of particular biblical translations that were known in Gaul.16 The persuasiveness of the Gallican hypothesis depends, in each case, on the strength and number of criteria present. Moreover, the evidence almost always allows for other possibilities. Aquitanian manuscripts, for example, contain chants that use the pes stratus, a notational sign consisting of a pes (NH) with an oriscus as the last element—​the contour NHS.This sign is not found in chants of known Roman origin, but its presence could signal either a pre-​Carolingian Gallican origin or a newer Frankish composition.

The Gallican Offertory Many of the chants hypothesized as Gallican relics are offertories. By gathering these together, I  hope to build a hypothetical picture of the Gallican offertory chant and place the sacrificia in this broader context. Frankish or Franco-​Roman chants posited as Gallican include a group of eighteen non-​psalmic offertories, some of which also circulate in the Milanese or Old Hispanic tradition, as well as some psalmic offertories that use translations of the psalter known in pre-​ Carolingian Gaul.17 Gallican relics have also been posited among local repertories, particularly in Aquitanian manuscripts. The identification of these offertories as Gallican depends on the assumption that the Gallican offertory was a variable, proper chant, as it is in all surviving Western repertories. Some have argued, however, that it was an invariable, ordinary chant: either an alleluiatic psalm such as Psalm 148, or the Byzantine Cherubikon.18 The differing views arise from conflicting accounts in the two principal descriptions of the Gallican liturgy: Ordo Romanus XV and the Expositio, once attributed to Germanus, bishop of Paris (d. 576). Ordo Romanus XV, compiled in the late eighth century by a monk in Austrasia or Burgundy, contains a blend of Roman and Gallican elements.19 It describes two offertory chants: “Laudate dominum de caelis” (Psalm 148), sung as the offerings were brought forward, and the “offerenda, which the Franks call a sonus,” sung after 14. Levy, “Toledo, Rome.” 15. See below, notes to Table 7.2c. 16. Andreas Pfisterer, “Remarks on Roman and Non-​Roman Offertories,” Plainsong and Medieval Music 14 (2005): 169–​81; Andreas Pfisterer, “Super Flumina Babylonis: On the Prehistory of a Roman Offertory,” in The Offertory and Its Verses: Research, Past, Present, and Future, ed. Roman Hankeln (Trondheim: Tapir Academic Press, 2007), 46–​54. 17. Levy proposed of a Gallican origin for all non-​psalmic offertories in the Franco-​ Roman repertory except for Confortamini and Exsulta satis. Levy, “Toledo, Rome.” On the psalmic offertories, see Pfisterer, “Remarks,” and Pfisterer, “Super Flumina.” 18. See notes 28 and 29. 19. Andrieu, Ordines Romani III, 59–​92.

Connections beyond Hispania the bread was arranged on the altar.20 In the eighth-​century Expositio, by contrast, the chant called the sonus was sung during the offering of the oblations.21 Given the diversity of Gallican practice, the contrasting descriptions in the Expositio and Ordo Romanus XV may refer to different practices in different places.22 The Expositio’s description of the offertory, or sonus, warrants closer examination. Textual parallels with Isidore’s De ecclesiasticis officiis, evident ­ throughout the Expostio, have been taken as evidence for a close relationship between the Old Hispanic and Gallican rites. Like Isidore, the author draws parallels between the Old Testament sacrifices and the chant sung at the offertory: For the sonus, which is sung as the oblation comes forward, takes its beginning in this way. The Lord commanded Moses to make silver trumpets, which the priests were to sound when the host was being offered, and this was to be a signal by which the people would know when the oblation was being brought in, and all, having bowed down, would adore the Lord as the column of fire or cloud which would bless the sacrifice would come. Now, however, when it brings forward the body of Christ to the altar, the church sings not with unrestrained trumpets, but [sings] the magnificent deeds of Christ in sweet melodies, with spiritual voices.23

Because John heard the angels sing the alleluia after Christ’s resurrection, the author continues, an “angelic song” with a threefold alleluia is sung at the end of the rite, while the bread is covered.24 20. Andrieu, Ordines Romani III, 122–​23 (“et post hoc statim clerus canit offerenda, quod Franci dicit sonum”). Dyer, “The Offertories of Old-​Roman Chant: A Musico-​Liturgical Investigation,” 76 concludes that the author is mistaken. 21. Relying in part of the findings of Altés I Aguiló, Philippe Bernard convincingly shows that the Expositio dates from the late eighth century and thus was influenced by Isidore, against the views of Mensbrugghe and Ekenberg (widely accepted in English-​language scholarship) that it dates from the sixth century and was a source for Isidore. See Philippe Bernard, ed., Epistolae de ordine sacrae oblationis et de diversis charismatibus ecclesiae, vol. 187, CCSL (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), 449–​60; Francesc Xavier Altés I Aguiló, “Un qüestionari sinodal sobra la litúrgia Gallicana en un manuscrit Gironi,” Revista catalana di teologia 4 (1979): 101–​16; Alexis van der Mensbrugghe, “Pseudo-​Germanus Reconsidered,” Studia Patristica 5 (1962): 172–​84; Anders Ekenberg, “Germanus oder Pseudo-​Germanus? Pseudoproblem um eine Verfasserschaft,” Archiv für Liturgiewissenschaft 35 (1993): 135–​39. 22. As also pointed out in Mathieu Smyth, “Répertoire romano-​franc and chant ‘gallican’ dans la recherche contemporaine,” Miscellània Litúrgica Catalana 10 (2000): 15–​45; at 25–​32. 23. “Sonum autem, quod canetur quando procedit oblatio, hinc traxit exordium. Praecepit dominus Moysi ut faceret tubas argenteas, quas levitae clangerent quando offerebatur hostia, et hoc esset signum per quod intelligeret populus qua hora inferebatur oblatio, et omnes incurvati adorarent Dominum, donec veniret columpna ignis aut nubes, qui benediceret sacrificium. Nunc autem procedentem ad altarium corpus Christi non iam tubis inreprehensibilibus sed spiritalibus vocibus praeclara Christi magnalia dulci modulia psallet ecclesia.” Bernard, ed., Epistolae XIV, 345–​46. 24. Bernard, ed., Epistolae XIV, 348.

247

248 Songs of Sacrifice The biblical typology invoked here immediately recalls Isidore’s description of the offertory, examined in Chapter 1.25 Like Isidore, Pseudo-​Germanus seeks the beginning of the offertory chant in the Old Testament, comparing and contrasting it with the sound of the Old Testament’s sacrificial trumpets. As we have seen, however, Isidore’s description is not merely a typological account of the chant’s origin; it also relates directly to the existing repertory, which employs images of sacrifice, priesthood, trumpets, and the divine odor.26 This raises the question of whether the Expositio similarly contains hints about the Gallican offertory. Although De ecclesiasticis officiis is a primary source for the Expositio and undoubtedly inspired this particular passage, Pseudo-​Germanus is not merely copying Isidore here. Isidore’s imagery results from direct citation of Ecclesiasticus 50:16–​18, whereas Pseudo-​Germanus synthesizes excerpts from Exodus and Leviticus for most of the passage. The source for Pseudo-​ Germanus’s trumpets is either Ecclesiasticus. 50:18–​19 or Numbers 10:2.27 Some have found evidence for an invariable Gallican offertory in the Expositio. Based on the description of an “angelic song” with a threefold a­ lleluia, Johannes Quasten proposed that the Gallican offertory was the Byzantine Cherubikon.28 Noting, however, that the sound of the trumpets is cited in Psalm 150 and seeking to reconcile the Expositio with Ordo XV’s description, Philippe Bernard concludes that the Gallican offertory was an invariable psalm, such as 148, 149, or 150. He explains Ordo XV’s inclusion of both Psalm 148 and the sonus as a conflation of Gallican and Roman elements and proposes that the “offerenda” described in Ordo XV reflects Roman, not Gallican, practice.29 While Quasten and Bernard see references to the Cherubikon or Psalm 148 in this enigmatic text, one can also find allusions to a sacrificium-​like repertory. The sacrificial trumpets are invoked in four sacrificia.Two others derive from the same biblical passages that inspired the Expositio’s description of the sonus, but they omit the trumpets, adapting the texts to their Christian use.30 This recalls the author’s remark that the body of Christ is no longer brought forward to the sound of trumpets. God appears in a pillar of cloud or fire both in the Expositio 25. For a recent assessment of Pseudo-​Germanus’s relationship to Isidore, see Bernard, Epistolae, 64–​67. For a comparative analysis of the offertory sections of Pseudo-​Germanus and Isidore, see Epistolae,  72–​75. 26. See the discussion in Chapter 1, pp. 19–21. 27. Bernard, Epistolae, 73, identifies the sources for the whole passage as Exodus 12:27 (“incurvatusque populus adoravit”); Exodus 13:21 (“per diem in columna nubis et per noctem in columna ignis”); and Leviticus 23:24; Numbers 10:2 and 8; and Ecclesiasticus 50:18–​19, which all have the sound of the trumpets. The first two images also occur elsewhere in the Pentateuch. 28. Johannes Quasten,“Oriental Influence in the Gallican Liturgy,” Traditio 1 (1943): 55–​73. 29. Bernard, Transitions, 167–​73. 30. See Stans sacerdos (Table 3.1) and discussion in Chapter 3, and Sacerdotes domini offerent (based on Numbers 10:8).

Connections beyond Hispania and in several sacrificia.31 Outside Lent, moreover, all sacrificia end with an alleluia, stated between one and three times, recalling the Expositio’s description of a threefold alleluia. Thus, the Expositio could well be describing a chant like the sacrificium. Because it is not clear which elements of the Expositio’s language refer to actual chant and which are allegorical descriptions of the offertory rite, the text can be used to support different hypotheses about the Gallican offertory chant, which may have varied according to time and place.

The Wolfenbüttel Palimpsest Lectionary Although the connections between the Expositio and the sacrificia do not prove that the Gallican sonus was like the sacrificium, one of the earliest sources for the Western liturgy shows a Gallican precedent for offertory chants based on similar biblical typologies. The palimpsest lectionary Wolfenbüttel, Weissenburg 76, dates from around 500 and is thought to be from southern Gaul, in or near Septimania. Controlled by the Visigoths since 462, Septimania had a blend of Iberian and Gallican liturgical influences and was a site of exchange between them.32 The Wolfenbüttel 76 palimpsest preserves a set of sixteen biblical incipits, unrelated to the preceding reading, that are thought to be chants.33 The six chant incipits shown in Table 7.1 come after the gospel and thus have been proposed as offertories.34 Even without the full texts, the thematic connections to the sacrificia are clear. Four of the texts invoke images of the priesthood, the tabernacle, or sacrifice. A  remarkable similarity to the sacrificium lies in the way the two non-​psalmic chants are adapted to the liturgical context: the word “sacerdos” does not appear in the biblical source of either chant, and in the case of Sacerdotes loquimini, “sacerdotes” changes the literal meaning of the 31. Sanctificavit: “Descendit ad eum dominus in nube . . .”). Also Aedificavit Moyses altare (“ego veniam ad te in columna nubis”; “descendisset deus super eam in igne”) and Accepit librum (“videbant lampades et montem fumentam”). 32. The Schabcodex, a palimpsest edited in P. Alban Dold, Das Sakramentar im Schabcodex M 12 Sup. der Bibliotheca Ambrosiana (Beuron: Beuroner Kunstverlag, 1952), is one of the most compelling witnesses to this. On the Schabcodex as a blend of Gallican and Old Hispanic elements, see Nathan Chase, “Liturgical Preservation, Innovation, and Exchange.” Worship 92 (2018): 415–35. Also on the liturgical connections between Septimania and the Old Hispanic rite, see Mathieu Smyth, “Répertoire romano-​franc and chant ‘gallican’”; Gómez-​Ruiz, Mozarabs, Hispanics, and the Cross (Maryknoll: Orbis Books, 2008), 48; and the studies cited in notes 6 and 8 above. 33. P. Alban Dold, Das älteste Liturgiebuch der Lateinischen Kirche. Ein Altgallikanisches Lektionar des 5./​6. Jhs. aus dem Wolfenbütteler Palimpsest-​Codex Weissenburgensis 76 (Hohenzollern: Druck und Verlag Kunstverlag Beuron, 1936), xcv–​xcvii. 34. Another two offertory incipits are only partially readable, and their sources were not possible to identify. One of these has the text “Dominus creavit c(aelos),” and the other has “Iustus maiore.” Dold, Das älteste Liturgiebuch, xcv.

249

250 Songs of Sacrifice Table 7.1  Offertory Incipits in the Wolfenbüttel Palimpsest Lectionary Chant

Text source

Liturgical assignment

Domine quis requiescet in sedibus in tabernaculo suo Psalm 14:1(?) Thursday of Easter Week Sacerdotis [sic] loquimini in corde hierusalem

Isaiah 40:2

Exaltent eum in ecclesia plebis

Psalm 106:32 Ordination of a bishop

Inponit sacerdos memorialem

Leviticus 2:2

Lent Ordination of a priest

Desiderium anime

Psalm 20:7

Confessor

Circuibo et immolabo in tabernaculo eius

Psalm 26:6

Dedication

original. Thus, the primary typologies that underlie the sacrificia seem to have been invoked in offertory chants from the early sixth century. The two non-​ psalmic offertories, moreover, hint at a sixth-​century precedent for the practice of arranging and adapting scripture for liturgical purposes.35 Coincidentally or not, one of the psalmic offertory incipits in the Wolfenbüttel palimpsest, Desiderium, is identical to the opening of a Franco-​Roman offertory, and a second, Circuibo, matches the opening of a sacrificium, one of the few based on the psalms, though it is not sung on the same occasion.36 The two non-​psalmic offertories in the Wolfenbüttel palimpsest present striking testimony to early sixth-​century Gallican offertories that resemble the sacrificium. The offertory, moreover, seems to have been a variable chant in the tradition represented by this lectionary, rather than an ordinary chant such as Psalm 148. Although these six chants cannot of course be taken as statistically representative of a full repertory, it is worth mention that the offertories in the Wolfenbüttel palimpsest have a greater proportion of psalmic texts than the sacrificia do: only about 8 percent of sacrificia are based on the psalms.

Possible Gallican Offertories in Franco-​Roman Manuscripts The Frankish and Franco-​Roman offertories proposed as Gallican survivals, listed in Table 7.2a, b, and c, are diverse in both their topical focus and text sources, drawing on the psalms, non-​psalmic biblical sources, and non-​biblical texts.These chants have been proposed as Gallican relics for various reasons, including a local or limited circulation in the Franco-​Roman tradition; the chant’s absence in the Old Roman sources; its presence in the Old Hispanic and/​or Milanese 35. Similarly, the words “in sedibus” in Domine quis requiescet are not part of the psalter traditions represented in Robert Weber, Le psautier romain et les autres anciens psautiers latins: édition critique (Rome: Abbaye Saint-​Jérôme: Libreria Vaticana, 1953), 24. 36. See Chapter 1, Table 1.3.

Connections beyond Hispania Table 7.2a  Franco-​Roman Offertories of Proposed Gallican Origin, also Found in Old Roman Manuscripts Offertory

Liturgical assignment

Text source

Other liturgical traditions

Confortamini

Advent, Ember Wednesday

Isaiah 35:4–​6; 7:13–​14 Milanese, Old Hispanic Missale mixtum

Exsulta satis

Advent, Ember Saturday

Zachariah 9:9–​10; 2:10–​11

Ave Mariaa

Advent IV, Annunciation

Luke 1:28, 34, 35

Meditabor

First week of Lent, Wednesday

Psalm 118: 47–​48; 57–​59

Angelus domini

Easter Week: Monday

Matthew 28:2, 5–​6, 7; M, Old Beneventan 24:36–​39

Portas caeli

Easter Week: Wednesday

Psalm 77:23–​25; 1, 2

In die solemnitatis

Easter Week: Thursday

Exodus 13:5

M

Erit vobis

Easter Week: Friday

Exod. 12:14; 14:13–​ 14; 13:3

M, OH

Precatus est Moyses

Post-​Pentecost Sunday XII

Exodus 32:11–​15, 14–​17; 34:8; 16:6–​7

Oravi deum

Post-​Pentecost Sunday XVII Dan. 9:4–​19, 20; 10:9, 11, 13

OH

Sanctificavit Moyses

Post-​Pentecost Sunday XVIII

Exod. 24:4–​5; 34:2–5, 8–10, 33:13, 20, 22, 23

M, OH

Super fluminab

Post-​Pentecost Sunday XX

Psalm 36:1, 2, 5, 7

Vir erat

Post-​Pentecost Sunday XXI

Job 2:7; 6:2–​3, 11; 7:7

Recordare mei

Post-​Pentecost Sunday XXII Esther 14:12–​14; 18:20

Domine deus in simplicitate

Dedication

1 Chronicles 29:17–​18; 7:8, 11–​12

Oratio mea

Vigil of St. Lawrence

Job 16:18–​21; 23:10–​11

M, OH responsory

Ave Maria and the eleven non-​psalmic offertories that follow it in the list were proposed as Gallican in Levy, “Toledo, Rome.” b The three psalmic offertories in this table are proposed as Gallican in Pfisterer, “Remarks” and “Super flumina Babylonis.” a

repertories; a textual style similar to the Old Hispanic sacrificia; and a correspondence to textual versions of the psalter used in pre-​Carolingian Gaul. Although the hypothesized Gallican origin for these chants derives from previous scholarship in most cases, I have included a few additional items that share one or more of these criteria. The purpose of compiling these chants here is not to evaluate

251

252 Songs of Sacrifice each case for or against Gallican origin, but to build a hypothetical picture of a Gallican offertory repertory, assess its characteristics, and compare it to the Old Hispanic repertory. As I will show, this repertory shares certain textual traits with the sacrificium, but is also more diverse in its text sources and thematic focus. The offertories listed in Table 7.2a are part of the standard Franco-​Roman repertory, appearing in the Old Roman as well as early Frankish manuscripts. As Kenneth Levy noted, however, these offertories differ from the majority of Franco-​Roman ones in their non-​psalmic texts, “centonate” rearrangement of scripture, and length.37 Typical Franco-​Roman offertories are much shorter than these chants, are based on the psalms, and lack extensive reworking of scripture.38 Three of the items in Table 7.2a are also found among the sacrificium repertory. Other chants in the table, moreover, share certain traits with the sacrificia. Precatus est and Vir erat, for example, have exceptionally long, narrative texts. In Precatus est Moyses and In die solemnitatis, the biblical source is recast in ways reminiscent of the sacrificia. As a group, however, these offertories also differ from the sacrificia in certain respects. With the exception of two that are also Old Hispanic sacrificia, the Franco-​Roman offertories in Table 7.2a lack the sacrifice, priesthood, and temple typologies that are so prominent in the sacrificia. Aside from some general thematic parallels related to the liturgical year, then, most of these chants are not particularly “Old Hispanic” thematically,39 and most also lack the verbal formulas that characterize the Old Hispanic repertory.40 The extensive text repetition in Vir erat, a characteristic of some other Franco-​ Roman offertories, is not a feature of the sacrificia. As a whole, the non-​psalmic chants in Table 7.2a stand out as being distinctive in the Franco-​Roman context and may indeed be Gallican borrowings. Nonetheless, they do not share in some of the most common traits of the sacrificia. The three psalmic offertories Table 7.2a, proposed as Gallican because they use versions of the Latin psalter known in Pre-​Carolingian Gaul,41 are otherwise indistinguishable from other Franco-​Roman offertories. A small group of standard Franco-​Roman offertories that do not circulate in the Old Roman manuscripts is shown in Table 7.2b. While their absence in the Old Roman tradition renders a Roman origin unlikely, it is uncertain whether 37. Levy, “Toledo, Rome.” 38. Psalmic Franco-​Roman offertories can be stitched together from various parts of a psalm and tailored to the musical form, but the biblical sources are not reworked to the same degree as in these non-​psalmic offertories. See Maloy, Inside the Offertory,  49–​57. 39. For example, In die solemnitatis and Erit vobis, which invoke the Exodus from Egypt, but not the festal theme that is so prominent in the Easter Week sacrificia. The two non-​ psalmic Advent offertories, Confortamini and Exsulta satis, have the same prophetic themes as the Advent sacrificia. For further discussion, see Maloy, Inside the Offertory,  69–​72. 40. On verbal formulas, see the discussion in Chapter 1, pp. 37–39. 41. Pfister, “Remarks”; Pfisterer, “Super flumina.”

Table 7.2b  Common Franco-​Roman Offertories of Proposed Gallican Origin, not found in Old Roman manuscriptsa Offertory

Liturgical assignment

Text source

Audi Israhelb

Sunday before Advent

Non-​biblical

Viri Galilaei

Acts 1:11, 10 Ascension; Ascension Vigil; Sunday after Ascension

Benedictus sit/​es deus pater

Trinity Sunday

Other liturgical Circulation in early traditions Franco-​Roman manuscripts (AMS) M responsory Rheinau only; very rare in later manuscripts none

4/​6 AMS sources, with variant assignments

Tobit 12:6; none Daniel 3:57, 55

2/​6 AMS sources; common in later MSS

Sicut in holocausto Seventh Sunday Daniel after Pentecost 3:40–​42

none

All AMS sources; common in later MSS

Elegerunt apostolic Stephen

Acts 6:5; 7:58–​ OH Alleluia 59; 6:15 elegerunt (sacrificium and sono)

Senlis only (9th c.); common in later MSS

Stetit Angelus

Michael

Apocalypse 8:3–​4; Psalm 137:1–​2

OH?d

All AMS sources; common in later MSS

Ingressus est Zachariase

John the Baptist Luke 1:13, 57–​67

none

Mont-​Blandin only; very rare in later manuscripts

Memor sit (offertory)f

A bishop

Psalm 19:4

none

Senlis only (9th c.)

Acts 2

none

5/6 AMS sources; very rare in later MSS

Factus est repenteg Pentecost

All in Levy, “Toledo, Rome.” On the melody, see Maloy, Inside the Offertory, 189–​92. c Proposed as Gallican in Huglo, “Altgallikanische,” and Levy, “Toledo, Rome.” On the melodic variance of this chant, see Kenneth Levy, “On Gregorian Orality,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 43 (1990): 185–​227; and Ruth Steiner, “On the Verses of the Offertory Elegerunt,” in The Study of Medieval Chant: Paths and Bridges, East and West, ed. Peter Jeffery (Woodbridge: Boydell, 2001), 283–​302. d It is not clear whether this offertory has common textual origins with the sacrificium Stetit angelus, as Levy had suggested. See Maloy, Inside the Offertory,  82–​84. e On the melody, see Maloy, Inside the Offertory, 189–​92. f The text also appears in Corbie as a gradual. Although there is an Old Roman offertory with this text, the rare appearance of this offertory in Franco-​Roman manuscripts suggests that it was not part of the core Franco-​Roman repertory. Amédée Gastoué, Le chant gallican (Grenoble: Saint Grégoire, 1939), 31–​33. g René Jean Hesbert, “Une antique offertoire de la Pentecôte: Factus est repente.” In Organicae voces: Festschrift Joseph Smits van Waesberghe (Amsterdam: I .M.M. Instituut voor Middeleeuwse Muziekwetenschap, 1963), 59-69. a

b

254 Songs of Sacrifice they derive from pre-​Carolingian Gallican practice, or whether may they instead be Carolingian or post-​Carolingian Frankish compositions. As summarized in column 5 of Table 7.2b, chants in this group have diverse patterns of circulation. While most are present in the earliest Franco-​Roman manuscripts compiled in Hesbert’s Antiphonale missarum sextuplex (AMS), Benedictus sit and Elegerunt apostoli are not; they appear only in the younger manuscripts of AMS.42 On the basis of circulation patterns, the most persuasive cases of Gallican survival in this group are Audi Israhel, Factus est repente, and Ingressus. These chants appear only in early AMS manuscripts and in isolated later sources. Factus est repente and Ingressus are based on New Testament sources relevant to the liturgical occasion, as are some sacrificia on certain feasts of particular solemnity. Audi Israhel, by contrast, is a newly composed, non-​biblical text, a text type not found in the sacrificia. Two other chants in this group share traits with the sacrificia. Benedictus sit, for the newly instituted Trinity Sunday, is reminiscent of the sacrificia in its extensive reworking of Tobit, the source for some of its text. Much of Benedictus sit, however, is non-​biblical material with a Trinitarian focus. Its melody is a contrafact of a standard Franco-​Roman offertory, hinting that it is a new composition for the festival.43 Sicut in holocausto belongs to the Omnes gentes formulary for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost, added to the Franco-​Roman repertory in the eighth century.44 Based on Daniel, it invokes the animal sacrifice typology associated with the sacrificia, though with few changes to the biblical source. It may be either a Gallican borrowing or a new composition imitating a Gallican practice. Another set of proposed Gallican offertories, shown in Table 7.2c, appear only in later Franco-​Roman manuscripts. Most of these are confined to local, Aquitanian traditions. Some have newly composed melodies, whereas others are modeled on offertory melodies from the core Franco-​Roman repertory. It would be logical to posit that the latter group are later additions to the repertory, postdating the Franco-​Roman layer from which their melodies derive. It is worth noting, however, that the preferred source melodies for these chants, Stetit angelus, Angelus domini, and Viri Galilaei, are themselves non-​psalmic chants of proposed Gallican origin.45 Several of these local Aquitanian offertories invoke the sacrificial and priestly typologies, a trait that connects them to both the sacrificia and the Wolfenbüttel palimpsest. These include Altaria tua, Holocausta medullata, Immaculatas hostiarum, and Memor sit. Two of these items, Holocausta medullata and Immaculatas hostiarum, consist of non-​biblical texts, prayers to the 42. “AMS sources” in Table  7.2b refers to the six early unnotated chant manuscripts indexed in René-​Jean Hesbert, ed., Antiphonale Missarum Sextuplex (Brussels: Vromant, 1935). 43. The melody is based on that of Contitues eos. 44. René-​Jean Hesbert, “La Messe ‘Omnes gentes’ du VIIe dimanche après la Pentecôte et l’‘Antiphonale Missarum’ romain,” Revue grégorienne 17 (1932):  81–​ 89, 170–​ 179; 18 (1933): 1–​14. 45. These melodies are identified in Steiner, “Holocausta medullata.”

Table 7.2c  Possible Gallican Offertories in Later Manuscripts Offertory

Liturgical assignment

Text source

Melody

Circulation

Altaria tua

Dedication

Psalm 83:4–​5, 2–​3

Newly composed

Aquitaine

Felix namque (two Nativity of different melodies) Mary

Non-​biblical prayer

F-​R offertories Stetit and Factus est dominus

Wide circulation

Holocausta medullataa

St. Saturninus

Non-​biblical prayer

Newly composed

Aquitaine

Immaculatas hostiarumb

St. Aredius

Newly composed

Newly composed

Aquitaine

Psalm 19:4

Newly composed

Aquitaine

Memor sit (ad communicandum)c Misit rex

Beheading of John

Mark 6:27–​28, 24

F-​R offertory Angelus Aquitaine

Martinus igitur

Martin

Non-​biblical prayer

F-​R offertories Stetit, Custodi, and F offertory Viri

O quam gloriosam

Cosmas and Damien

Apocalypse 7:9

F-​R offertory Angelus Aquitaine

Iustorum animae

All Saints

Wisdom 3:1

F-​R offertory Stetit and F offertory Viri

Aquitaine, Bolognad

Intempesta noctis

Benedict

Non-​biblical

F offertory Memor sit

Aquitaine

Ingressus Paulus

Paul

Non-​biblical

F-​R offertory Laetentur

Aquitaine

Levabo inter innocentes

Second Sunday Psalm 25:6, in Lent 11, 7, 2

F-​R offertory Domine Aquitaine exaudi

Protege domine

Invention of the Cross

Non-​biblical prayer

Newly composed

Salve presentem

Exultation of the Cross

Non-​biblical prayer

Newly composed/​F-​ Aquitaine R offertory Stetit and F offertory Viri

Salvator mundie

Confessor

Non-​biblical prayer

Newly composed

Spiritus qui venit

Monday after Pentecost

Modeled on F-​R Wisdom 1:7, Psalm 103:30–​31 offertory Benedictus qui venit

Aquitaine

Wide circulation

Aquitaine Aquitaine

A Gallican origin for this chant is considered, but not committed to, in Ruth Steiner, “Holocausta Medullata: An Offertory for St Saturninus,” in De Musica et Cantu: Studien zur Geschichte der Kirchenmusik und der Oper: Helmut Hucke zum 60. Geburstag, ed. Peter Kahn and Anne-​Katrin Heimer (Hildesheim: Georg Olms, 1993), 263–​74. Steiner, in fact, describes the musical style as “post-​Gregorian” (at 269). b This offertory is discussed in Steiner, “Holocausta medullata,” 268–​68; Roman Hankeln, Die Offertoriumsprosuln der aquitanischen Handschriften: Voruntersuchungen zur Edition des aquitanischen Offertoriumscorpus und seiner Erweiterunge I (Tutzing: Hans Schneider, 1999), 60; and William Manning Sherrill, “The Gradual of St.Yrieix in Eleventh-​Century Aquitaine” (Ph.D. diss., University of Texas, 2011), 122–​24. c Transcribed in Gastoué, Le chant Gallican, 32. d In Rome, Angelica 123. e Olivier Cullin, “Une pièce gallicane conservée par la liturgie de Galliac. L’offertoire Salvator Mundi pour les défunts,” Cahiers de fanjeaux 17 (1982): 287–​96. a

256 Songs of Sacrifice saints being celebrated. In this respect, they resemble other local compositions on the list that are proper to specific saints, such as Martinus igitur, or that consist of newly composed prayers, such as Salvator mundi and Protege domine. This type of text is not known among the Old Hispanic sacrificia and is rare in other Old Hispanic chant genres. The saints’ festivals in question, however, were long established in Gaul, and the Gallican masses on these occasions may well have had these kinds of offertories. In short, it is uncertain whether these local chants are of Gallican origin, dating from before the Carolingian reforms in the late eighth and ninth centuries, or whether they were composed after the adoption of Roman chant in Francia, using topical elements, such as sacrifice, that had been characteristic of the Gallican offertory. In summary, the Wolfenbüttel palimpsest lectionary gives a fragmentary view of the types of offertories used in early sixth-​century Septimania: a combination of psalmic and non-​psalmic chants, some of which are similar to the sacrificia in their modification of scriptural sources and in their sacrifice and priesthood imagery. Although these similarities to the sacrificia evince a Gallican precedent for the Old Hispanic genre, later evidence for the Gallican offertory implies that the genre developed differently in Gaul and Iberia.The Iberian liturgists preferred non-​psalmic biblical sources, placed a greater emphasis on the sacrificial typology, and modified scripture to Christianize the Old Testament. While a number of putative Gallican offertories also draw on the sacrificial typology, the surviving hints of the Gallican repertory imply that it was more diverse than the sacrificia, incorporating both psalmic and newly composed texts in larger numbers.

North Africa: The Sinai Fragment Offertories similar to the sacrificia also appear in a fragment of a tenth-​century antiphoner preserved at Sinai, thought to be of North African origin. Part of a collection of three Latin fragments now at Sinai, the antiphoner preserves chant texts from December 25–​28, a handful of which are also in the Old Hispanic repertory.46 Although the chant types are not identified in the fragment, Fischer posited plausible genres for each chant, including three offertories.47 In many of the chant texts, including the offertories, the scribe has left a large gap in the writing space. The consistency of these gaps and their position in the chants suggests that they signal refrains. As Fischer noted, moreover, each of the offertory texts 46. E. A. Lowe, “Two New Latin Liturgical Fragments on Mount Sinai,” Revue Bénédictine 74 (1964):  252–​83; Bonifatius Fischer, “Zur Liturgie der lateinischen Handschriften vom Sinai,” Revue bénédictine 74 (1964):  284–​97; Peter Jeffery, “The Old Spanish Chant, the Old Latin Bible, and the Latin Fragments on Mount Sinai,” in El Canto Mozárabe y Su Entorno:  Estudios sobre la Música de la Liturgía Viejo Hispánica, ed. Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta (Madrid: Sociedad Española de Musicología, 2013), 137–​56. 47. Fischer, “Zur Liturgie der lateinischen Handschriften vom Sinai,” 289.

Connections beyond Hispania is divided into three sections. The implication is that the offertory in this North African tradition was multi-​sectional and had refrains, a form similar to that of the sacrificium, the Franco-​Roman offertory, and the Milanese offerenda. Although the three offertories in the Sinai fragment are not in the Old Hispanic repertory, two of them show striking thematic and verbal similarities to the sacrificia. In addition to their non-​psalmic biblical sources, these chants invoke the offering or sacrifice theme at the very beginning, as do many sacrificia. Sacrificium sacrificationis (St. Stephen) begins, “you shall offer the sacrifice of sanctification, and the first fruits of the holy things,” and continues with the priesthood theme. Based directly on the Vulgate version of Ecclesiasticus, it lacks the biblical reworking that is typical of sacrificia. Suplices dei, for a combined feast of John and James, is a highly centonized and reworked text, taken from a VL version of Zephaniah. Although none of the three offertories is thematically proper to its festival, these two are much like the sacrificia.48 In the sixth and seventh centuries, North African regions were linked to the Iberian Peninsula through well-​established routes of travel, conduits for the movement of books and people. Some immigrants from North Africa became part of the Visigothic church’s elite. Donatus, fleeing Berber raids, arrived in the late sixth century with seventy monks and a substantial library, founding a monastery at Servitanum.49 These monks presumably brought liturgical books with them. Another North African, Abbot Nanctus, settled in Mérida and, despite his Nicene faith, earned the patronage of the Arian king Leovigild.50 More broadly, African texts were widely read and transmitted by Iberian bishops, clerics, and royalty.51 While more work must be done to understand the chant tradition in the Sinai fragment and its relationship to other traditions, these travel routes provide a context for the dissemination of North African liturgical texts into Iberia. Based on the characteristics of their liturgical calendar, it has been proposed that the Sinai fragments represent the liturgy of a North African church near the end of the seventh century.52 If so, they show us a closely related liturgy practiced during the most formative period of the 48. The third offertory in the fragment, Cantate domino (Christmas), draws each of its three sections from different psalms, a trait virtually unknown among existing offertory repertories, including the sacrificia. 49. Ildefonsus, De virus illustribus III. See Ildefonsus, Ildefonsi Toletani episcopi De virginitate Sanctae Mariae; De cognitione baptismi; De itinere deserti; De viris illustribus, ed. Valeriano Yarza Urquiola and Carmen Codoñer, CCSL 114 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), 605–​6. 50. As told in the Vitas sanctorum patrum emeretensium III, ed. A. Maya Sánchez, CCSL 116, 21–​24. Translation in A.T. Fear, Lives of the Visigothic Fathers (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 1997), 55–​57. 51. Inter alia, Stacey Graham, “The Transmission of North African Texts to Europe in Late Antiquity,” Medieval Manuscripts, Their Makers and Users: A Special Issue of Viator in Honor of Richard and Mary Rouse, 2011, 151–​67. 52. Jean Gribomont, “Le mysterieux calendrier latin du Sinai: édition et commentaire,” Analecta Bollandiana 75 (1957): 105–​34.

257

258 Songs of Sacrifice Old Hispanic rite. In comparing selected chants shared by the Sinai fragment and L8, Peter Jeffery argued that both derive from a common older tradition and noted that the Sinai v­ersions have textual readings closer to the oldest, African texts of the Latin Bible.53 The connections between the Sinai fragment and the Old Hispanic antiphoner, then, may point to something of an African prehistory for the latter. Among those chants are offertories reminiscent of the sacrificia.

Milanese Offerendae A handful of offertories similar to the sacrificia appear among the Milanese offerendae, indicating that this chant type also circulated further east. The Milanese liturgy has two chants sung at the offertory: the post-​evangelium antiphon and the offerenda. Reminiscent of the Gallican rite described in Ordo XV, the Milanese Manuale suggests that the post-​evangelium was sung as the bread and wine were brought to the altar and that the offerenda was begun afterward, as lay elders presented bread. Terence Bailey has argued that the offerenda was an eighth-​or ninth-​century addition to the Milanese repertory, added when a lay offering was instituted in imitation of Roman practice.54 If so, it is perhaps not surprising that borrowed chants are a central feature of this repertory. Of the seventy chants assigned as offerendae in manuscripts, twelve are probably taken from the Milanese office, and at least thirty-​one are likely borrowings, mostly offertories, from the Franco-​Roman tradition.55 Another four are apparent Old Hispanic borrowings, and one is a responsory both in the Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman traditions.56 The remaining twenty-​three offerendae are either native Milanese compositions or borrowings from a repertory that is no longer extant. These chants 53. Jeffery, “The Old Spanish Chant, the Old Latin Bible, and the Latin Fragments on Mount Sinai.” 54. Terence Bailey, The Chants of the Ambrosian Offertory: The Antiphons “After the Gospel” and the Offerendae (Ottawa: Institute of Mediaeval Music, 2009), 17–​32. 55. On borrowings from the Milanese office, see Bailey, The Chants of the Ambrosian Offertory, 115–​19. In the count of Franco-​Roman borrowings, I have included most of the Franco-​Roman non-​psalmic offertories that Levy has proposed as Gallican because I see it as likely that they were adopted in Milan along with the Franco-​Roman psalmic offertories, in the eighth or early ninth century. The ones not included in this count are Erit hic vobis, Sanctificavit, and Stetit angelus, all of which have stronger textual connections to the Old Hispanic repertory than to the Franco-​Roman; and Exaudita est, which has textual variants that suggest an independent derivation from a third source.The offerenda Priusquam formarem te has the same text as a Franco-​Roman responsory, and a tentative case for musical similarity between the two chants could be made. 56. The offerenda Stetit angelus is nearly identical textually to the sacrificium; Curvati sunt is an Old Hispanic responsory, and Contumelias is a responsory in both the Franco-​Roman and Old Hispanic traditions.

Connections beyond Hispania are textually diverse, consisting of a mixture of psalmic texts (7), non-​psalmic texts (13), and non-​biblical texts (3), with a handful of possible connections to other repertories.57 Ten of these are decidedly reminiscent of the sacrificia.58 These chants, concentrated in Advent/​Christmas and Easter Week, all have non-​psalmic, centonized texts. Some employ the sacrificial imagery, and some are adapted for the liturgical context in exactly the manner of the sacrificia. For example, in Celebraverunt, for Monday of Easter Week, the biblical “and the children of Israel who were found in Jerusalem kept the feast of unleavened bread for seven days,” is changed to “the children of Israel celebrated Easter on the feast of unleavened bread for seven days.”The festal theme of this chant and others sung during Easter Week, such as Alleluia steterunt levitate, echoes that of the Easter week sacrificia. Perhaps these were borrowed from an Old Hispanic or Gallican tradition that is no longer extant, or created in Milan in imitation of Old Hispanic or Gallican practice. The circulation of this repertory outside of the known Old Hispanic sources further reminds us that the sacrificia, while closely tied to aspects of Visigothic textual and devotional culture, are also part of a larger tradition, practiced not only in Narbonnaise Gaul, but also in Northern Italy.

Liturgical Exchange: The Sacrificia in Other Traditions A closer look at the sacrificia that have Franco-​Roman and Milanese counterparts (Table  7.3a and b) can shed further light on the nature of liturgical exchange between the Old Hispanic tradition and other rites. As Levy showed, the parallel offertory texts share particular rewordings or omissions that set them apart from the biblical source, pointing to shared origins.59 While most of these parallels have been examined in previous scholarship,60 they nonetheless warrant reexamination from the Iberian perspective, for the insight they might yield into the history of the genre and liturgical exchange. The understanding 57. The offerenda Isti sunt dies quos nulla may be cognate with the Old Hispanic sono with the same incipit. The verse text of Ecce dominus sion is also found the Old Beneventan tradition. See Michel Huglo, “Old Beneventan Chant,” Studia musicologica 27 (1985): 83–​95. 58. Alienigenae (Advent III), Ecce dominus de Sion (Advent VI), Ecce apertum (Christmas), Celebraverunt (Monday of Easter Week), Alleluia steterunt (Tuesday of Easter Week), Isti suntdies quos nulla (Wednesday of Easter Week), Ego audivi (Thursday of Easter Week), Preparatum (Octave of Easter), Obtulit (Dedication), Ubi sunt nunc (Circumcision). 59. Levy, “Toledo, Rome.” 60. The use of sacrificium/​offertory texts as office chants in other traditions is less well known. Table 7.3 thus includes a few items that are not in Levy’s list in “Toledo, Rome,” such as Vos qui transituri, Isti sunt dies quos, Mirabilis, and the Old Hispanic responsory Oratio mea.

259

260 Songs of Sacrifice Table 7.3a  Sacrificia That Circulate in Other Liturgical Traditions Sacrificium

Other liturgies

Type of chant

Musical resemblance?

Sanctificavit

Franco-​Roman Milanese Franco-​Roman Franco-​Roman Milanese Franco-​Roman Milanese Frankish Franco-​Roman Milanese Franco-​Roman(?) Franco-​Roman

offertory offerenda (partial) offertory and responsoryc offertory offerenda responsory offerenda Haec dicit offertory responsory offerenda offertory, responsory offertory

Y Y Y N Y N Y Y N Y N N

Oravi deuma Erit hic vobis Isti suntdies quos Alleluia elegerunt Vos qui transituri Stetit angelus Mirabilisb

Same text only in section I. Same text only in section I. c This responsory has a very limited circulation. Among the manuscripts indexed in the CANTUS database, it appears in the Old Roman antiphoner B79 and the Roman MS Vallicelliana C5 (which later ended up at Sant’Eutizio). a

b

Table 7.3b  Old Hispanic Chants of Other Genres That Serve as Offertories in Another Tradition Chant

Old Hispanic genre

Offertory in which tradition

Musical resemblance?

Oratio mea

Responsory

Contumeliasa Curvati sunt Iustus ut palma

Responsoryb Responsory Sono

Milanese Exaudita Franco-​Roman Milanese Milanese Franco-​Roman

N N possibly N N

a Tradition B only. The texts are of different lengths but have common rewordings and centonizations that point to a common origin. The Milanese offertory text is much closer, but not identical, to that of the Gregorian responsory. b Also a Franco-​Roman responsory. The two texts clearly share common origins; the Milanese version is more closely related to the Franco-​Roman responsory than the Old Hispanic.

of the Old Hispanic melodic grammar established in Chapter  4, moreover, can facilitate a closer musical analysis of these chants, revealing how the Old Hispanic melodies relate to those of other traditions. Before turning to the melodic evidence, let us examine an aspect of these chants that has been implicit, but not emphasized, in previous studies:  the flexibility with which the material is adapted. These cognate chants show a much higher degree of textual variance than do chant texts within a single tradition, or between the Franco-​Roman and Old Roman traditions. Levy’s

Connections beyond Hispania hypothesis that all existing versions of these chants descend from a common, Gallican ancestor is persuasive in some cases and less so in others.61 What is clear is that borrowed material was freely adapted to the needs of the new tradition. The presence of only one section of Sanctificavit in the Milanese tradition, for example, is consistent with that tradition’s approach to borrowing Franco-​Roman offertories: a respond and two verses are often split into three parts and assigned to different occasions, reflecting a preference for shorter offertories. Something of this flexibility, I believe, underlies instances where the two versions share a common fund of textual material but arrange it differently, such as Isti sunt dies/​Haec dicit dominus (Table 7.4). As shown in Chapter 3, passages from Leviticus have been reworked to refer to the celebration of Easter in fourteen days and Palm Sunday in eight days. The Old Hispanic and Milanese versions have the same rewording, indicating a common textual origin. In the Milanese tradition, however, the material is presented in a different order: section III of the Old Hispanic version is section I of the Milanese. It is unclear which arrangement reflects the older practice. The musical style, shared by both versions, argues for the priority of the Old Hispanic arrangement, where, in the usual fashion, each verse becomes increasingly melismatic.62 In the Milanese version, however, the textual themes are presented in a more typical order: the offering and sacrifice imagery in the first section of the chant and the material relevant to the liturgical occasion in the subsequent sections. Additionally, there are textual differences within each section. Although both versions have the crucial text beginning “quartadecima die,” where the Leviticus source is reworked to refer to the celebration of Easter,63 this text is introduced differently in each version. The Milanese version begins with “Locutus est Moyses filiis Israel dicens.” In the Old Hispanic text, these words instead occur at the beginning of section II, setting up “in die octavo. . . .” In addition to the large-​scale reordering of material, small textual adjustments have been made. These types of variants need not be explained as separate derivations from a third source.64 One could, in fact, be derived from the other. What seems likely is that different versions of the text circulated at some point in the chants’ prehistory. The Milanese version is more concise, while retaining the textual passages that were of central importance for the feast. Despite their differences, the two versions appear to be melodically related, with melismas on the same 61. See the discussion in Maloy, Inside the Offertory,  57–​67. 62. In both versions, the section beginning “haec dicit dominus” opens with a long melisma, but in the Milanese version, this occurs, very atypically, at the beginning of a chant. 63. See the discussion of this text in Chapter 3, pp. 90–92. 64. Levy’s preferred explanation in “Toledo, Rome.”

261

in die octabo venturo summite vobis ramos palmarum et exultate in conspectu domini et secundum legem quam vobis precepit Section I Haec dicit dominus erit vobis sabbatum memorabile et vocabitur sanctum et offeretis ad vesperum olocaustomata vestra quia in die illa propitietur vobis salvator vester et in omnibus generationibus

quartaodecima die ad vesperum pascha domini est et in quinto decimo solemnitatem celebrabitis altissimo deo Section III

Section II Locutus est Moyses filiis Israel dicens:

Section I Isti sunt dies quos

devetis custodire temporibus suis quarta decima die ad vesperum pascha domini est et in quinta decima sollemnitatis celebrabitis altissimo deo vestro. Section II Locutus est Moyses filiis Israhel dicens in die octabo venturo summite vobis ramos palmarum et exultate in conspectu domini et secundum legem quam vobis precepit Section III Haec dicit dominus erit vobis sabbatum memorabile et vocabitur sanctum et offeretis ad vesperum olocaustomata quia in die illa propitietur vobis salvator vester et in omnibus generationibus

Milanese offerenda

Old Hispanic sacrificium

Table 7.4  Different Versions of the Text Isti sunt dies quos/​Haec dicit dominus

debetis temporibus suis quartadecima die ad vesperum pascha domini est et in quintadecima sollemnitatem celebrabitis altissimo domino

Isti sunt dies quos observare

Franco-​Roman responsory

Connections beyond Hispania words, except for the passage at “Locutus est Moyses . . .” Here, precisely where text has been shifted from one section to another, the Milanese version is far more elaborate than the Old Hispanic, suggesting that, in one tradition or the other, a new melody was crafted to accommodate the rearrangement of text. A third version of this text, the Franco-​Roman responsory Isti sunt dies quos (Table 7.4, col. 3), is textually closer to the Old Hispanic version than to the Milanese, but its text is shorter, fitting the generic norm, and its melody consists of standard material used in other Franco-​Roman responsories. This variety of relationships, typical of chants shared by the Old Hispanic, Franco-​Roman, and Milanese traditions, points to flexible processes of exchange that could include melodies, partial melodic borrowing, or text (or partial text) only. Texts, moreover, could be abbreviated and adapted to the new context, across genres. This process stands in contrast to the more consistent transmission of mass and office texts that was typical of Carolingian and post-​Carolingian practice.65 This flexibility should be borne in mind when comparing the shared chants’ melodies. The understanding of the Old Hispanic melodies established in previous chapters can shed light on melodic transmission before the Carolingian reforms and can also help in hypothesizing the origins of these chants. Some, such as Sanctificavit, use very standard neume patterns, suggesting that they were typically Old Hispanic in style. Others, such as Erit hic and (to a lesser extent) Oravi deum, have certain anomalies, perhaps strengthening the hypothesis that they originated elsewhere. While the different versions of these melodies usually have melismas and neumatic passages in the same places, a token of shared origins, similarities in contour are rare. These trends are exemplified in an excerpt from the final section of Erit (Example 7.1). Most melismas occur in the same places, and they are often similar in length. The contours, however, are often different, 65. The traditional understanding of the early Franco-​Roman chant sources as being textually uniform (Levy posited a “Carolingian text archetype”) has been challenged in the work of Daniel DiCenso and Susan Rankin, who have pointed to textual variants, including texts of different lengths, among the manuscripts in Antiphonale missarum sextuplex and other early fragments. Very often, however, the chant texts shared by the Old Hispanic, Franco-​Roman, and Milanese traditions show far more variance between the various traditions than textual recensions in Antiphonale missarum sexuplex do. From the pre-​Carolingian vantage point established here, however, it is possible to speculate, at least, that the textual variants pointed out by Rankin and DiCenso reflect a more flexible chant transmission in the eighth and early ninth centuries, which changed in the course of the Carolingian reforms, particularly as notated versions of the melodies were circulated. See Kenneth Levy, “Charlemagne’s Archetype of Gregorian Chant,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 40 (1987):  1–​30; Susan Rankin, “The Making of Carolingian Mass Chant Books,” in Quomodo cantabimus canticum? Studies in Honor of Edward H.  Roesner, ed. David Butler Cannata et al. (Middleton,WI: American Institute of Musicology, 2008), 37–​63; and Daniel J. DiCenso, “Sacramentary-​Antiphoners as Sources of Gregorian Chant in the Eighth and Ninth Centuries” (PhD thesis, University of Cambridge, 2011).

263

264 Songs of Sacrifice Example 7.1.  Erit, excerpt from the Old Hispanic, Franco-​Roman, and Milanese

versions Old Hispanic: L8, 178

Franco-​Roman (Paris, BN, lat. 780), 88v

Milanese (Benevento, Archivio di Stato MS B), 104

Bo -​no a -​ni –​mo e -​sto –​te OH

NSH-​N NHLH-​NL-​NULHL NHH -​NH NS N NL NHH -​NL NULHL N NH

FR

NH -​L SHHL-​L -​SSSLSL

H

-​HLHHLHH

MIL

N

H

-​SHLHHSHHLHHHS-​LHL

-​S SHHL-​L -​LHLL

-​SHLLSLHHLSL

Connections beyond Hispania Example 7.1.  Continued et

ve

-​ni

-​et

vo

-​bis sa

N N

N

-​N

-​N

N

-​N NH -​NHL

SH

-​SSSHL -​SH SSL -​S

NH SHHS -​SH

-​L

-​lus

SL -​HSSLH

SL -​H SSL -​HSLHL

de

-​o

N NHHH NHL NHLH

-​N

a do

-​mi

-​no

N NHHL

-​NH -​N

SHH

-​LH -​LS

LHSHHH -​LH -​L

SHLLHHHSLLHLLSHLLSLL -​HL SHLLHHHLLHLLHLLHSHLL -​HL et pu

pro vo

-​bis

N NHH-​NNSNHNSNLLNNSNHNSNLLH N NHHHL-​NH

NL NHLL

-​NHL

N HH -​HSS

L

L HH

-​gna

-​SLHLHLHSLHLHLHLHS

-​bit LLHHLHHH

-​SLL

-​SLHL S

SHLLHL -​S LHL

-​SL

though the three are similar in some passages, such as the melisma on “deo.” In the transcription, the same or compatible contours are indicated in boldface. Some of the neume combinations found in the Old Hispanic Erit are atypical of the sacrificia. A  sampling of these is shown in Examples  7.2, 7.3, and 7.4 along with the corresponding passage in the Franco-​Roman and Milanese counterparts. In Example 7.2, the first cadence in the Old Hispanic melody is an unusual setting of the word “alleluia.” In the sacrificia, the melisma on the second syllable of “alleluia” nearly always ends in a standard gesture that constitutes the first element of a Type 1 cadence; here it leads into a Type 2 cadence. The Franco-​Roman and Milanese versions also have the equivalent of a Type 2 cadence here. It is possible that the unusual treatment of this word in the Old Hispanic version derives from connections to the other traditions. Another anomaly, from the Old Hispanic perspective, is in the first of the closing alleluias of section I (Example 7.3). This is the single setting of “alleluia” in the sacrificia that is not recognizably cadential, ending instead with a short, non-​standard melisma. The Franco-​Roman and Milanese versions are non-​ cadential as well, though they differ from the Old Hispanic in contour.66 In the Old Hispanic tradition, the cadential element on “vestras” (Example 7.4) occurs only very rarely as the only neume on a syllable, and it shares some contours with the Franco-​Roman counterpart.67 These nonstandard passages in the Old Hispanic Erit perhaps bolster Levy’s hypothesis that this chant originated 66. This cadence is melodically variant in Franco-​Roman sources. 67. See online appendix 3b, XXV.

265

266 Songs of Sacrifice Example 7.2.  Erit, first cadence a. Old Hispanic (L8, 178)

b. Franco-​Roman (Paris, BN lat. 780, 88v)

c. Milanese (Benevento, Archivio di Stato MS B, 104)

Example 7.3.  Non-​cadential “alleluia” cadence in Erit a. Old Hispanic (L8, 178)

b. Franco-​Roman (Paris, BN lat. 780, 88v)

c. Milanese (Benevento, Archivio di Stato MS B, 104)

outside Iberia. If so, the typical features of the Old Hispanic version may be assimilations to Old Hispanic style.68 Although Levy believed that the similarities between “close multiples” like these chants could allow for the recovery of Gallican musical substance, I am 68. Typical features include the final cadential “alleluia” of section I, a Type 1 cadence that shares the last two neumes of the antepenultimate syllable, NS/​HL + NULH, with three

Connections beyond Hispania Example 7.4.  Erit vobis, cadence on “vestris/​vestras” a. Old Hispanic (L8, 178)

b. Franco-​Roman (Paris, BN lat. 780, 88v)

c. Milanese (Benevento, Archivio di Stato MS B, 104)

skeptical. Given that the three versions of Erit have melismas in most of the same places, it is certainly reasonable to posit that their common ancestor did as well. But we cannot know how these melismas actually sounded, except perhaps in rare places, such as the end of the melisma on “pugnabit,” in Example 7.1, where two of the existing versions have a similar contour. Because these chants were incorporated into the different liturgical traditions before the invention of notation, Levy believed that they could yield the best insights into pre-​notational chant transmission. While I  agree, the conclusions to be drawn from such examples depend on one’s vantage point. In examining different versions of the offertory Elegerunt in Franco-​Roman manuscripts, Levy emphasized their similarities, in order to argue that they were memorized rather than “improvised.”69 Indeed, the commonalities between the versions of Erit, evident mainly in the placement of melismas, do preclude other sacrificia (see online appendix 2, III 8). The Old Hispanic also has a typical tendency to divide the text into smaller units. For example, at “in qua existis de terra Egypto,” the Old Hispanic has cadential neume patterns on “existis” and “terra.” There is no corresponding break in the Gregorian version (and this section is lacking in the Milanese tradition). 69. Kenneth Levy, “On Gregorian Orality,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 43 (1990): 185–​227.

267

268 Songs of Sacrifice free improvisation of their common ancestor. A more nuanced understanding, however, emerges when we focus on their differences. The scant melodic contours they have in common in many passages indicate that the note-​by-​note progression of the melody changed in at least two of the traditions, probably all three. When and why, we can only speculate. Was the melodic tradition flexible in its earliest performances? Did singers mishear or misremember aspects of the chant as it traveled between liturgical traditions? Or did the transformations, with assimilations to native styles, occur through the generations of oral transmission that followed? In the Old Hispanic Erit, as noted, we find both familiar and unfamiliar neume patterns at cadences. If this chant originated elsewhere, perhaps its typical Old Hispanic features reflect a process in which “foreign” aspects of the melodic language came to be replaced with material that was more easily understood, in Iberian musical culture, as signaling the end of a phrase. These examples suggest that melodic and verbal consistency between regions or institutions did not have the high priority that it later came to have, especially in the later stages of the Carolingian liturgical reforms. The relationship between these melodies is, in fact, reminiscent of the Old Hispanic traditions A and B, examined in Chapter 6. Using the criteria illustrated there, I would place the Franco-​Roman and Old Hispanic versions of Erit in category 3 or 4. What remained consistent as the melody was disseminated was the placement of longer melismas, traces of common contours, and, most likely, aspects of tonal structure that are not revealed by the Old Hispanic neumes, such as the focal pitches associated with particular passages of text. This underlying structure was realized differently in each location, in part according to local stylistic preferences. In comparison to Erit, the Old Hispanic version of Sanctificavit is much more typical of its tradition. All cadences in the Old Hispanic Sanctificavit are standard Old Hispanic ones, and some of its other material is also found elsewhere in the repertory.70 Despite these standard features, however, Sanctificavit shows a somewhat greater similarity than Erit between the Franco-​Roman and Old Hispanic versions (I would place them in category 3). Although the contours of the Franco-​Roman and Old Hispanic versions are different on most syllables, certain melismas, such as that on “dicens” (Example 7.5), exhibit a closer

70. The opening passage, on Sanctificavit Moyses altare, for example, is melodically identical to the opening of the Holy Thursday sacrificium, Aedificavit Moyses altare, probably prompted by the textual parallel. Both use a Type 3 cadence that commonly sets the word “Moyses.” The Franco-​Roman version also has a Type 3 cadence here, but with different contours. The melisma on “Moysen” in section II of the Old Hispanic version also occurs in Locutus . . . ecce vocavi, on the closing “alleluia” of I, and the melisma on “[faciem] meam” is found, in nearly identical form, in In temporibus, on “prospicere.”

Connections beyond Hispania Example 7.5.  Sanctificavit, “dicens” melisma, Franco-​Roman and Old Hispanic (L8, 305v and Paris, BN lat. 776, 131v)

Di

-​cens

OH NHHLH -​NL NH NUL NULHL NS NHH N NHLH NLNL repeat NH NUL NULHL NS NHH NH NH NLHLH F-​R NHHLLH-​ LH SL HLLHLSSHHHS LHSLHHL LH SL HLLHLSSHHHLSSSL repeat resemblance. Both versions have an internal repetition and they share the contours indicated in boldface in the transcription.71 On the whole, however, the various versions of both Erit and Sanctificavit would probably have sounded very different to practitioners. While chants such as Erit and Sanctificavit were “memorized” in some sense, the melodic transmission was stofflich rather than wörtlich.72

Sacrificia and Offertories: Stylistic Congruities The melodic similarities between the Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman versions of the melisma in Example  7.5 raise a question for further investigation. Despite its resemblance to the Old Hispanic version, the Franco-​Roman melisma does not sound stylistically “foreign” in the Franco-​Roman context. Can we, then, pinpoint stylistic commonalities between Franco-​Roman and Old Hispanic chant? Some of the standard neume combinations in the sacrificia do, in fact, have counterparts in the Franco-​Roman melismas. Another passage of Sanctificavit, the melisma on “Moysen” (Example  7.6), begins with a single note and a trigon (NUL), followed by a sequence of three neumes 71. In the Old Hispanic version, the spacing in the transcription reflects the neume groupings. In the Franco-​Roman melisma, the spaces are inserted to align with the corresponding passages in the Old Hispanic version. 72. For discussion of these terms, see Chapter 6, pp. 217–18.

269

270 Songs of Sacrifice Example 7.6.  “Moysen” melisma in Old Hispanic and Gregorian versions (L8, 305v; St. Gallen, Stiftsbibliothek, 339, 153v; Paris, BN lat. 776, 131, and transcription)

OH: N NUL NS N NUL FR: S HSL HL H HSL

(circled) that is frequently found in Old Hispanic melismas. Although the Franco-​Roman melisma (here represented by Sankt Gallen 339) is shorter, the contours and even neume groupings of its first eleven notes closely match the Old Hispanic melisma. The identical and compatible contours shown in the transcription (with boldface and italics, respectively), indicate that only one pitch is incompatible. While it would be tempting to see the Franco-​Roman melisma as preserving a vestige of Old Hispanic style in this passage, the pitch content of the Franco-​Roman version, shown in the transcription of Pa 776, appears in many other Franco-​Roman offertory melismas.73 Certain melodic gestures, then, evidently fit comfortably within the melodic vocabulary of both Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman chant. As noted earlier, the chants sung at the offertory share general melodic traits in nearly all extant Western chant traditions: they are multi-​sectional chants with refrains, and they become increasingly melismatic with each section, with internal repetitions in the melismas. In the case of the Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman offertories, however, the similarities appear to have extended beyond these general traits to aspects of surface style. Melismas provide the best vehicle for further exploring these parallels, because their compound neumes yield the most information about melodic contour in the Old Hispanic versions. In the sacrificia, melismatic practice is far more extensive than in the Franco-​Roman offertories: melismas in the 73. For example, Populum humilum, on “eius,” matches the end of this melisma (GaccGa), a pitch pattern found in numerous other offertory melismas.

Connections beyond Hispania sacrificia occur more frequently, are longer, and have more complex repeat structures. The difference in scope can be captured in statistics. The Franco-​ Roman offertories have 10 melismas with more than 90 notes, the longest being 131, whereas the sacrificia in L8 have 52 melismas of more than 90 notes. Seventeen of these have 120+ notes, 13 have 170+ notes, and the longest is 249. Correlated with their greater length, the Old Hispanic melismas also have more extensive repetition schemes. Fifty-​eight Franco-​Roman offertory melismas have one repeated section, but only nine have more than one repeated section, and only two have more than two repeated sections.74 In the sacrificia, by contrast, 30 melismas have two repeated sections and 32 melismas have three. Nine melismas in the sacrificia have four or more repeated sections, including one with eight repeated sections. In short, Frankish practice was restrained in comparison to the Old Hispanic.75 While it would be tempting to posit that the Gallican idiom was more prolix than the Franco-​Roman, the surviving hints of the Gallican offertory would not support this. Offertories with a limited or local circulation, often posited as being Gallican survivals, are stylistically consistent with the standard repertory.76 Despite differences in the frequency and length of their melismas, the sacrificia and the Franco-​Roman offertories use melismas in many similar ways. Both traditions have a small set of melismas that circulate in more than one chant, and both have melodic gestures that recur among different melismas. In both traditions, some melismas employ material from non-​melismatic passages of the same chant, and the same melismatic material can occur more than once within a chant.77 Melismas tend to be placed at the beginnings and ends of sections in both traditions.

74. See the tables in Giacomo Baroffio, “The Melismas of the Gregorian Offertories: A Checklist,” in The Offertory and Its Verses: Research, Past, Present and Future. Proceedings of an International Symposium at the Centre for Medieval Studies, Trondheim, 25 and 26 September 2004, ed. Roman Hankeln (Trondheim: Tapir Academic Press, 2007), 89–​94. 75. For a broader perspective on stylistic aspects of these traditions and a digital model for comparing them, see Geert Maessen and Peter van Kranenburg, “A Non-​melodic Characteristic to Compare the Music of Medieval Chant Traditions,” in Folk Music Analysis: Proceedings of the Eighth International Workshop 26–​29 June 2018 (http://​fma2018.mus. auth.gr/​proceedings.html). 76. Many proposed Gallican offertories are incorporated into Offertoriale triplex, and thus into Baroffio’s analytical data in “The Melismas of the Gregorian Offertories: A Checklist.” Among the local offertories not in Offertoriale triplex, such as Holocausta medullata and Immaculatus hostiarum, none has exceptionally long or frequent melismas, and neither do archaic chants such as Factus est reptente or Audi Israhel. 77. For discussions of these phenomena in the sacrificia, see Chapter  4, p. 156, and Chapter  5, pp. 180–85. Examples of recurring melismatic material in the Franco-​Roman offertories include Iubilate deo universa,“labia” and “offeram”; Lauda anima,“exterminavit” and “sion”; Deus tu convertens, “est” and “caeli”; Emitte spiritum, “vehementer” and “vestimentum.”

271

272 Songs of Sacrifice As implied in our brief examination of Sanctificavit, the Old Hispanic and Franco-​ Roman melismas also share some melodic contours. The Old Hispanic melismas have longer neume patterns that circulate among different sacrificia, as noted in Chapter 4, and counterparts to some of these may be found among the Franco-​ Roman offertory melismas.78 In the Franco-​Roman melodies, these gestures often rotate around a focal pitch of F or c, with excursions to the third and fourth below the focal pitch (i.e., cccaGac). Movement to the second, third, and fourth above is also common (i.e., cdccefc). Many of the neume patterns in the sacrificia melismas imply similar types of motion. A sampling is shown in Example 7.5a and b, along with compatible passages in the Franco-​Roman melismas. Similarities in melodic shape are particularly evident when the Old Hispanic version employs various combinations of NLL, NHL, and the trigon, transcribed in this study as NUL. (As explained in Chapter  4, the U signifies a note that is either the same or higher than the previous note.) In Franco-​ Roman offertories, this shape is nearly always realized as NSL (i.e., cca or ccG). Table 7.5a shows recurring combinations of NLL and NUL. NLL + NLL + NUL (Row 1) occurs in the “terra” melisma of Sanctificavit and in several other sacrificia.79 A very similar contour (minus one repeated note) is found in several Franco-​Roman offertory melismas, each time indicating the same pitch content.80 An identical contour, moreover, occurs in the Aquitanian offertory Holocausta medullata, possibly a Gallian relic (as noted in Table 7.2c). Another recurring neume combination in the Old Hispanic sacrificia, NLL + NUL + NUL,81 has a compatible contour in a melisma from the Franco-​Roman In te speravi (row 2) and elsewhere in the Franco-​Roman repertory.82 Table 7.5b shows two Old Hispanic melisma segments with the opening pattern NH + NUL, which corresponds to the Franco-​Roman pitch series Gacca or GaccG, frequently found in offertory melismas.83 The two Old Hispanic melisma sections shown in Table  7.5b, column 1, expansions of NH + NUL, also have 78. See the discussion in Chapter 4, pp. 137–42. 79. For example, Prope, on the final “alleluia”; Accepit, “vos”; Congregavit, “[in loco] suo”; Aedificavit Moyses altare, “Sina.” 80. Terra tremuit, “sion”; Confirma hoc, “oriente”; Mihi autem, “longe.” 81. Other instances include Sanctificavit, on “mea” and the sonus Verba mea. 82. The same melisma occurs in Recordare mei, on the same word, “conspectu.” The contour also occurs in Oravi deum. The pitches are aFDFFDFFC.There are two melodies for Recordare mei, and the melisma in question appears in only the newer one; see Ruth Steiner, “The Offertory/​ Responsory Recordare Mei Domine,” in The Offertory and Its Verses: Research, Past, Present, and Future: Proceedings of an International Symposium at the Centre for Medieval Studies,Trondheim, 25 and 26 September 2004, ed. Roman Hankeln (Trondheim: Tapir Academic Press, 2007), 57–​66. 83. Other instances include Lauda anima, “saeculi”; Exulta satis, “loquetur”; Deus enim, “dierum”; Iustorum animae, “autem”; Stetit angelus, “ascendit”; Viri Galilaei, “ascendentem”; Populem humilum, “eius.” It can also occur at a higher or lower pitch level, e.g., CDFFD (In te speravi, “conspectu”) or cdffd (Scapulis suis, “eum”).

Table 7.5a  Combinations of NLL and NUL in Old Hispanic Melismas, and Their Franco-​ Roman Gestural Equivalents in León 8 and Paris, BN lat. 776 Sacrificium in L8

Transcription (notes not in Franco-​Roman equivalent shown in brackets)

1. Sanctificavit, “terra” [NH] NLL NLL NUL

f. 305v 2. In temporibus illis, “profiscere”

Franco-​Roman gestural equivalent in offertory of Pa 776

Pitches (notes not in Old Hispanic equivalent shown in brackets)

Michi autem, “longe”

[G]‌aGFGFEFF[F]D

f. 100v NLL NUL NUL [N NS]HL

f. 305

In te speravi, end of caG cca cca dc “conspectu” melisma

f. 37

Table 7.5b  Combinations of NH and NUL in Old Hispanic Melismas, and Their Franco-​ Roman Gestural Equivalents in León 8 and Paris, BN lat. 776 Sacrificium in L8

Transcription Franco-​Roman gestural (Pitches with no equivalent in offertory of equivalent in Franco-​ Pa 776 Roman are shown in brackets.)

Pitches (Pitches with no equivalent in the Old Hispanic are shown in brackets.)

1. Alleluia angelus (Alleluia, opening of II)

NH NUL NS NH Deus tu convertens, from [NLHLH] “caelo” melisma

Gaccaagb

f. 6v

175v 2. Munera, from “sua” melisma

f. 49v

NH NUL [N]‌ NULH

Sanctificavit, “dicens”

f. 131v In die, “desideria” f. 74v

GaccGaaFa [bGF] [F]‌GaccGaaGa [GF]

274 Songs of Sacrifice Table 7.5c  Combinations of NHL and NUL Sacrificium

Transcription

Franco-​Roman gestural equivalent

Franco-​Roman pitches

1. Omnes qui me, “[propter] me”

NHL NUL

Iubilate deo omnis, “iubilate”

cedcca

f. 246v f. 20v 2. Alleluia palmae, “alleluia”a

NHL NUL NHL NUL

Domine deus salutis, “egrediebar”b

f. 92v

cdccca[cc]cdcc[c]‌a

  f. 40

3. Averte, “peccavi”

f. 134

NHH NHL NULc

Emitte spiritum, “vehementer”

Gaccdc[d]‌cca

f. 91v

For the repeated version, see Altare aureum, “operuit”; Venient, “haec”; Ecce ostendit, “haec”; Offerte, “domine”; Alleluia oblatio, “alleluia” (see Example 4.12b). b This is the single instance of this combination in the Franco-​Roman repertory. c The NLHL sign at the bottom is the work of a later corrector. This particular correction is common throughout L8. a

equivalents in the Franco-​Roman repertory. Examples of the NHL + NUL combination, which occurs frequently in melismas of both traditions, are shown in Table 7.5c. In the Franco-​Roman offertories, this basic six-​note contour (row 1) is manifest in a number of pitch combinations, all emphasizing a focal pitch of c or F.84 In the Old Hispanic melodies, this contour and neume combination is a component of several longer recurring patterns, some of which have Franco-​Roman counterparts (rows 2–​3). These examples, representing a small sampling of the contour patterns common to the Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman melismas, strongly suggest that the two traditions shared aspects of musical language. The frequency of repeated-​note neumes in the sacrificia melismas, particularly those related to

84. Other examples (some with an additional repeated note) include: Si ambulavero, “veritate” (cdcccG); Assumpta est, “virginem” (cdccca); Meditabor, “dilexi”; Gloriabuntur, “meam” (cdcccca); Super flumina, “sion”; and Anima nostra, “nostra” (FGFFFFD).

Connections beyond Hispania the trigon (NUL), imply that some recurring neume patterns signaled rotation around a particular focal pitch, just as they do in the Franco-​Roman melismas. While the similarities do not enable a secure reconstruction of the Old Hispanic pitches, they suggest that melismas of the two traditions sounded similar in some respects. Differences, however, emerge in how these recurring neume patterns are used. In the Old Hispanic tradition, for example, the NHL + NUL combination (Table 7.5c) occurs very often as a repeated gesture at the beginning of a melisma, as shown in row 2.  In the Franco-​ Roman offertories, however, it is rarely repeated, and it seldom serves as the opening component. Perhaps the most notable difference between melismas of the two traditions lies in the Old Hispanic tradition’s well-​developed vocabulary of lengthy formulas for closing melismas and melisma sections. These are harder to discern in the Franco-​Roman melismas; some end with recognizable cadences, but without the same number and variety of identifiable closing patterns. Cadences would be another place to look for gestural patterns common to the Franco-​Roman and Old Hispanic melodies, though a full examination lies outside our scope. A digital comparison has begun to be undertaken and will one day be facilitated by digital tools such as the Chant Editing and Analysis Programme and Cantus Ultimus.85 An initial comparison suggests that this would yield interesting insights into the similarities and differences. Table 7.6 shows the ten most common cadential contours that emerged in a sampling of about 20  percent of the Franco-​Roman offertories. Four of these have gestural equivalents or very similar gestures in the Old Hispanic tradition. All the parallels occur in Type 2 cadences, comprising the last two syllables of the phrase. Type  1 cadences, usually comprising the last three syllables, are very common in the sacrificia but relatively rare in the offertories, suggesting differences of melodic grammar. Type 3 cadential gestures, placed on the last syllable, occur often in both traditions, but with no contour equivalents among the most common types. Thus, the cadential vocabulary of the two traditions is similar in some respects and different in others. Identifying further such connections in future research may allow us to posit “pan-​European” features of Western plainsong and to identify the distinctive features of each tradition.

85. The latter under the auspices of SIMSSA, Single Interface for Music Score Searching and Analysis:  https://​ simssa.ca/​ . See also Peter van Kranenburg and Geert Maessen, “Comparing Offertory Melodies of Five Medieval Christian Chant Traditions,” in Proceedings of the 18th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference, 204–​10. https://​ ismir2017.smcnus.org/​wp-​content/​uploads/​2017/​10/​174_​Paper.pdf.

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276 Songs of Sacrifice Table 7.6  Common Franco-​Roman Cadences (from Paris 776) and Old Hispanic Equivalents (from L8) Gregorian cadence

Type Pitchesa

Old Hispanic equivalents

2

DEFEF/​ED (contour also occurs on FGaGa/​GF and Gabab/​aG)

2

DEFEDE/​ED (also FGaGFG/​GF and No exact equivalent GabaGa/​aG)

2

EGFF/​FE (contour also occurs with a variety of other intervals and pitches, as below)

3

acaaG (contour also occurs with a variety of other intervals and pitches, as above)

No equivalent

2

EGFE/​E (also FaGF/​F)

No equivalent

3

FGFE (also EFED)

No equivalent

2

GaGFGFE/​E

No equivalent

3

FFFDED

Similar to

3

FDEFE (contour occurs with a variety of pitches and intervals)

f.21v

(Type 2, XVII) f. 229v f. 6 f. 14v

f. 12v

(Type 2, I) f. 102

f. 12v

f. 14v f. 10

f. 7

(Type 3, I.4) f. 306v

f. 14v

(Type 3, I. 2) f. 305 2

GFGaG/​aG

No exact equivalent

12v This column provides a non-​exhaustive sampling of pitches associated with this contour. In most cases, they can, of course, occur in other transpositions. a

Melodic Rhetoric in the Sacrificia and Offertories The commonalities of musical style between the Old Hispanic and Franco-​ Roman offertories raises the question of whether strategies of melodic rhetoric were also shared between them. The most unusual and celebrated examples of rhetoric in the Franco-​Roman offertories involve text repetitions, a feature

Connections beyond Hispania not present in the sacrificia. In the Franco-​Roman offertories, these passages are often set with varied melodic repetition that is heightened, in the repetition, either with melismas or through expanded range. In the famed Vir erat, for example, Job’s lament that his eyes will never again look on good things is depicted in a ninefold statement of the words “ut videant bona,” whose increasing urgency is represented with varied repetition and contrasts in range.86 Text repetitions can also be underlined with melismatic expansion, a technique found in both the Franco-​Roman offertories and Milanese offerendae. Setting aside these striking cases, a certain rhetoric is built into the structure of a typical Franco-​Roman offertory, just as it is in the sacrificia. Each section typically becomes increasingly melismatic, and often more expansive in range. The beginning of the new section may be marked with a melisma (though this is less common than in the sacrificia), with the longest melisma typically falling at the end of the final section. These contrasts, inherent in the genre’s melodic style and form, can intersect with the text to highlight particular images, just as they do in the Old Hispanic repertory. The Lenten offertory Domine deus salutis is typical in this respect. The source text, Psalm 87, is traditionally associated with Christ’s passion. The chant consists of three sections of the psalm that are prayers, and considered, in the exegetical tradition, to be in the voice of the suffering Christ.The sample passages in Example 7.7 show how delivery of this text is shaped by the contrasts in musical style that characterize the genre. In typical fashion, the first section (a) is mostly in the narrow range between F and c, with a neumatic style. The opening of the first verse (b), “incline your ear to my prayer,” expands to f on “precem.”This and similar exhortations are often rhetorically heightened in the offertories.The next verse, beginning with the words “and I cried to you” (c) is more melismatically enhanced, with long melismas on “clamavi” and “mane.” “Mane” (in the morning) is treated as a single clause, dividing it from the text that follows, a means of rhetorical stress found often in the sacrificia. The contrasts in range and style, a typical feature of the genre, draw attention to certain parts of the text. The role of range as a rhetorical tool in the offertories raises the question of whether contrasting ranges were similarly deployed in the sacrificia. In the Franco-​Roman and Milanese versions of Sanctificavit, shifts in range not only highlight alternations between voices in the dialogue, but also result, twice, in something akin to word painting on “ascendit.”87 It seems reasonable, given the similarities between all three versions, to posit that the Old Hispanic Sanctificavit 86. For discussions of this chant, see, inter alia, Fritz Reckow, “Zwischen Ontologie und Rhetorik: Die Idee des movere animos und der Übergang vom Spätmittelalter zur frühen Neuzeit in der Musikgeschichte,” in Traditionswandel und Traditionsverhalten, ed. Walter Haug and Burghart Wachinger (Tübingen: M. Niemeyer, 1991), 145–​78; at 161–​68; Maloy, Inside the Offertory, 144–​46. 87. Maloy, Inside the Offertory, 169–​70.

277

278 Songs of Sacrifice Example 7.7a.  Opening of Domine deus salutis (Benevento 34, f. 74)

Example 7.7b.  Domine deus salutis verse 1, opening (Benevento 34, f. 74)

Example 7.7c.  Domine deus salutis verse 2, opening (Benevento 34, f. 74)

used range in a similar way. How these contrasts in range may have served as an expressive tool in the Old Hispanic idiom more broadly, of course, remains an open question. Despite the general similarities of style, certain techniques for underlining particular textual images in the sacrificia are found less frequently, if at all, in the Franco-​Roman offertories. Chapter 5 demonstrated a series of strategies for heightening the delivery of particular textual images in the sacrificia: cadences and cadential melismas placed against the verbal syntax, two or

Connections beyond Hispania more cadences or cadential melismas in close succession, melismas on important words, and melodic repetition or return. Most of these approaches can be discerned in the Franco-​Roman repertory, but far less often. Melismas that lengthen particular words and phrases, for example, often come at the beginning or middle of a verbal clause in the offertories, but these are typically non-​cadential melismas in close proximity to a recognizable cadence, thus not resulting in a melodic caesura against the syntax. The technique of framing a particular textual clause with melismas at the beginning or end, typical in the sacrificia, is comparatively rare in the offertories. Many have just a single longer melisma, often on the final word of the last verse. As in the sacrificia, the Franco-​Roman offertories tend to have cadences before prepositions, whether or not the sense is complete, but they lack the even smaller divisions of text that are sometimes deployed as a means of rhetorical emphasis in the sacrificia.88 Despite these differences in text setting strategies, both genres use melismas as a way to highlight specific words or phrases. The most conspicuous differences between the sacrificia and offertories lie, first, in the greater number and length of melismas in the sacrificia. Perhaps the more important contrast, however, resides in the extent of textual reworking in the sacrificia. In the Franco-​Roman offertory Domine deus salutis, as we have seen, verses from Psalm 87 were chosen because of their exegetical connections to Christ’s passion, and the stylistic variety of the melody works to underline particular textual moments. Yet the text is taken word-​for-​word from the psalm, without the kinds of exegetical interventions that we find in the sacrificia. In the sacrificia, as I have shown, changes to the biblical source texts are carefully interwoven with the melodic rhetoric.The most exceptional feature of the sacrificium, then, is the unity of purpose behind its texts and melodies.

Conclusions The sacrificium repertory was formed in dialogue with its equivalents in pre-​ Carolingian Gaul, North Africa, Milan, and Rome, with precedents reaching back into the early sixth century. Traces of these exchanges are also discernable in the melodic language. Although the Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman melodic styles differ in many respects, they appear to have emerged in mutual awareness. The circulation of some Old Hispanic chants outside the Iberian Peninsula is an especially powerful testimony to this contact, brought about in circumstances now lost to us. In two cases, the understanding of Old Hispanic style developed in previous chapters has allowed me to pinpoint directions of 88. See Example 5.4 and the discussion in Chapter 5.

279

280 Songs of Sacrifice borrowing. The melodic similarities between the Old Hispanic, Milanese, and Franco-​Roman versions of these chants, whose common origins date to a time before notation, bear witness to the movement not only of texts, but of singers and the songs they carried in memory. Despite many changes in melodic detail, a common understanding of textual pacing and melodic rhetoric was maintained through generations, across cultures and liturgical traditions, attesting to the value it held for Christian singers in late antiquity and the early Middle Ages.

Conclusion

S

ince the inception of chant studies, scholars have sought to answer fundamental questions about plainsong repertories, such as how and when they emerged and why particular biblical passages were chosen, altered, and set to particular kinds of music. The answers I  have posited for the Old Hispanic chant lie in the seventh-​century Visigothic intellectual and spiritual renewal, promoted by the Iberian bishops, and in the resulting culture of text production. Through the education of clergy and laity, the bishops strove to create a Visigothic kingdom unified in the Nicene faith. The chant texts and melodies were carefully constructed to serve these ends.Through chant, the Iberian liturgists sought to shape a particular biblical understanding, informed by the same patristic texts that were collected, redacted, and transmitted as part of the bishops’ educational program. Strategic changes to the biblical source functioned as performative exegesis, centering particularly on the typological interpretation of the Old Testament. The reworking of scripture was also shaped by the monastic conception of reading Isidore promoted, particularly meditatio, and by the liturgical occasion on which the chant was sung. Through the choice, arrangement, and alteration of the biblical texts, the chant was designed to connect the Old Testament to its Christian fulfillment, to the liturgical present, and to the congregants’ lived experience, contributing in this way to the formation of Christian souls. Chant also played a role in the broader, “public” side of the bishops’ agenda, particularly through its links to anti-​Jewish theological discourse. We find these connections especially in the sacrificia based on biblical passages about Jewish festivals and customs, which are reworked to reflect their meanings in Christian exegesis. This kind of biblical typology, I have argued, served a broader social role in the Visigothic context, where the “religious” and “political” were inextricably joined. It remains unsettled whether the primary purpose of anti-​ Jewish theological works was to reinforce Christian belief or whether they related more directly to anti-​Jewish laws, which included forced conversion and prohibitions against Jewish customs. What is clear is that both theological discourse and law played complementary roles in the bishops’ project of Songs of Sacrifice. Rebecca Maloy, Oxford University Press (2020). © Oxford University Press. DOI: 10.1093/oso/9780190071530.001.0001

282

Songs of Sacrifice shaping individual Christian souls and a collective, Nicene identity. To this end, they intersected in the aim to separate Christians, especially converted Jews, from Jewish practice.These same goals, I have argued, lay behind the reworking of biblical texts in some chant. In sum, liturgy and chant were a practical way of instilling doctrine and modeling biblical exegesis, as part of a cultural program that was at once theological and ideological. Liturgical texts thus have much to tell historians about how the bishops carried out their objectives, particularly when examined in the light of other texts created within the same milieu and with similar aims. Melody, I have argued, was a central tool in the bishops’ endeavors. Although the Old Hispanic melodies were not preserved in notation until the ninth and tenth centuries, they are undoubtedly rooted in an earlier practice. By the time of the surviving manuscripts with notation, the Iberian cantors had developed a distinctive culture of musical literacy, in which particular neumes and neume patterns signaled specific melodic functions, such as phrase openings and cadences. Through analysis of these neume shapes, I  have posited a sophisticated melodic grammar. The cantors’ melodic choices are closely tied to textual syntax, and, at times, to aural aspects of the text such as word accent and assonance. In melismatic composition, the singers used standard melodic elements with clearly defined functions, combining them with new material in ever varying ways. In all these respects, the Old Hispanic melodies have much in common with those of other chant traditions, and my analysis of the melodies has helped to situate their language in this broader context. What made the Old Hispanic tradition so remarkable is how the melodic rhetoric intertwines with the carefully reworked texts. For Isidore, as we have seen, sung liturgical texts were more effective than spoken ones in moving listeners to greater piety. An integrated analysis of text and melody suggests that the bishops and the cantors in their circles used melody precisely for this purpose, ultimately serving their cultural and societal agenda. Strategic placement of melismas, cadences, and melodic repetition underlined words and images that were central to the text’s typological meaning or liturgical use. Time after time, changes to the pacing of the text delivery coincide with alterations to the biblical texts, drawing listeners’ attention to these moments. The sacrificia thus pose a challenge to a long-​standing belief that chant melodies are indifferent to the texts’ semantic content. On the contrary: their creators possessed an erudite knowledge of biblical interpretation, reworking biblical passages to foreground their Christian interpretation and deploying melody as a rhetorical device to shape how the text was heard. In proposing intertwined theological, devotional, social, and political roles for both melodies and texts, I have implicitly argued for a social function for melody, hypothesized, in part, through the traditional methodologies of chant scholarship. Efforts to understand why chant repertories were designed as they

Conclusion were have typically begun with close work on manuscripts, with important roles for notation and melodic analysis. Here I  have integrated that research with textual analysis in its broadest sense, considering each chant text in relation to a network of interrelated texts that include the biblical source, the liturgical texts performed in close proximity with the chant, and the theological writings created and circulated within the same milieu. These theological writings were designed to support a broader social agenda, which implies a close connection between the chant and the intellectual culture that produced it. Choices about the melodic setting of the text helped to solidify these links. Hearing these chants, a congregation thus experienced more than a beautiful melody together with a biblical text. In Ingressus est Daniel, sung on the fifth Sunday of Advent, they heard an Old Testament prophecy from Daniel (“close the word and seal the book until the appointed time”) restructured to convey its Christian interpretation (“close the word and seal the book until Christ the prince arrives”). Immediately after the delivery of these words, listeners heard a passage of textless melody, lasting perhaps between 30 seconds and a minute, with pauses for in-​breaths (See Chapter 5, pp. 175–77). The suspension of text allowed for rumination on these pivotal words. The melody was designed to imprint this message, non-​verbally, into the listeners’ minds and souls, forming and transforming them, undoubtedly, in part, through the emotional response Isidore described. The most immediate message of this text was the impending arrival of Christ. Through textual reworking, the Daniel passage was linked to the liturgical present and to the Advent season. For the clerical elite, however, this combination of text and melody was meant to tap into a broader network of associations. Those immersed in the traditions of patristic biblical exegesis transmitted by Isidore, for example, would have known that that the words “close the word and seal the book” meant that Jews were excluded from understanding the spiritual meaning of scripture (see Chapter 3, page 79). Building on this meaning, the “appointed time” or “time of consummation” in the original Daniel passage relates to Isidore’s belief, developed in his theological and historical writings, in the conversion of the Jews at the end of time. For some listeners, then, the reworking of the passage from Daniel ideally helped to connect it to a broader tradition of anti-​Jewish theological discourse practiced on the Peninsula, whose ultimate goal was to form Christian souls and a Nicene society. Although I have stressed the theological strand of Visigothic anti-​Judaism because of its direct influence on the chant texts, anti-​Judaism also reached deeply into Visigothic society on a practical level, as reflected in forced conversions, legal policy, and anxieties about continued observance of Jewish customs (See Chapter 3, pp. 96–103). In certain contexts, these theological and legal strands of anti-​Judaism converged, working toward the same ends. Converted Jews, for example, were required by law to attend liturgies on

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Songs of Sacrifice specific feast days. The liturgy and chant thus link, directly or indirectly, to a specific legal, theological, and social agenda. In highlighting this passage of text in Ingressus est Daniel, melody assumes a role far beyond marking textual syntax. Although these aspects of the Old Hispanic chant situate it within a very specific cultural milieu, it can also speak to broader questions about the early history of plainsong. The manuscripts with sacrificia, copied between the tenth and thirteenth centuries, have served as an entry point for exploring questions about the roles of oral and written transmission, fixity and flexibility, and which aspects of the melodies remained stable in the oral tradition. Rather than framing “oral-​written” and “fixity-​flexibility” as binary oppositions that are mutually exclusive, I  see them as two spectrums, accounting for various parts of the repertory at different points in time. The Old Hispanic repertory shows a great variety in these respects. The tenth-​and eleventh-​century manuscripts of tradition A, all from León and the Rioja, point unequivocally to a reliance on common exemplars. Despite the great variety of neume forms in the Old Hispanic notation, the different manuscripts typically notate the same chant passages with the same choice of neume shape, indicating that a distinctive culture of musical literacy associated with the Old Hispanic rite was shared across these two regions.The same neume forms were used to signal the same melodic functions in all early manuscripts. The graphic and melodic consistency between these manuscripts, palpable in most melodies, suggests that tenth-​and eleventh-​century cantors in Northern Iberia prioritized a stable melodic tradition. Yet the melodic contours are far from identical, and the variants, both small and substantial, do not group consistently according to regional patterns. The most plausible explanation is that these variants reflect long-​standing oral practice in the areas where the exemplars were received. Because the unpitched notation required a robust oral tradition to function, the scribes probably copied from exemplars with reference to their internalized, aural knowledge of the melodies.The tradition held in memory, was, in most cases, consistent across these regions, but it was not uniform. The late manuscripts from Toledo present a contrasting picture, bifurcated according to the two liturgical traditions. The Toledan manuscripts from tradition A usually have melodies very similar to those of the tenth-​and eleventh-​ century northern manuscripts, though a distinctive melodic practice associated with Toledo is evident in certain chants. The Toledo A  manuscripts may in fact be linked to the notated exemplars that circulated in the north, a possibility that merits further research. Tradition B manuscripts, by contrast, show no evidence of connection to these exemplars, signaling that their relationship to the early tradition A melodies was an oral one. Although the chants common to traditions A and B typically share a conception of melodic pacing, rhetoric, and structure, they rarely have identical contours for more than a few notes at a time.The implication is that aspects of melodic structure and rhetoric remained

Conclusion consistent in the oral tradition, constituting a common substance that probably dates to a time before the widespread use of notation on the Peninsula.The surface details of the melodies changed. In sum, I have posited two distinct models of melodic transmission for the Old Hispanic chant, the first relying on exemplars and prioritizing stability, a second exhibiting a less stable tradition and a reliance on oral transmission. The tradition B manuscripts provide a wealth of unexamined material through which this hypothesis could be further tested. The Old Hispanic chant shows that that questions about the early history of plainsong may fruitfully be examined through an evidence base that lies outside the Carolingian realm, as Don Randel suggested long ago. A full understanding of the relationship between traditions A and B, however, will require close comparative work on the full chant repertory, which may lead to new hypotheses about the reasons for their differences. Recent findings have suggested that the parishes in which both Toledan traditions were practiced have ancestral ties to immigrants from Al-​Andalus.1 Given tradition B’s association with Mozarabic communities in the southern part the Peninsula, the two traditions may have different geographical origins. It is also possible, however, the northern tradition A developed through close connections to particular Andalusian regions or institutions. Melodic and textual variants chant have often been used to posit cultural ties between regions and institutions, and this would be a fertile area for future work on Old Hispanic chant. The relationship between Old Hispanic chant and other Western chant traditions is a potentially transformative subject for further research. Building on earlier work by Michel Huglo, Kenneth Levy, and others, I have shown that the sacrificium emerged in dialogue with its counterparts in other liturgies, and other chant types undoubtedly did as well. Parallels between the sacrificium and its Franco-​Roman, Gallican, and Milanese counterparts take a variety of forms, all of which merit consideration in studies of other genres and repertories. The most basic type of connection relates to textual content and structure. In sources as diverse as a fifth-​century Gallican palimpsest, a tenth-​century north African fragment, and the Milanese repertory, we find offertory chants based on sacrificial biblical typologies, some with modifications to the biblical sources reminiscent of the sacrificia. A better understanding of thematic parallels between liturgical traditions in other chant genres, across east and west, will position us to assess the extent to which these repertories share exegetical foundations, and, conversely, which textual choices reflect more specific, circumscribed historical conditions. A second area of mutual influence lies in musical form and style. In all W   estern traditions that preserve full texts, the offertory is a multi-​sectional piece with refrains. Where melodies exist, these are elaborate chants in all traditions, with 1. See the discussion in Chapter 6, pp. 219–23.

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Songs of Sacrifice longer melismas concentrated in the latter sections.Through the understanding of the Old Hispanic melodic language developed in Chapter 4, I have posited further commonalities between Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman offertories, both in style and melodic vocabulary, and defined some distinctive aspects of Old Hispanic melodic grammar. Further comparison, facilitated through digital resources, has the potential to unveil melodic content and grammatical principles common to all Western chant traditions, while also yielding insight into their differences. Shared repertory constitutes another type of link between chant traditions and another area for future work. Additional chants common to multiple traditions remain to be discovered, both within and between genres. As Levy argued long ago, these “multiples” may offer the best insights into pre-​notational chant transmission, particularly when informed by a knowledge of the Old Hispanic melodic language. Reexamining the shared offertory chants in this light, I have proposed directions of borrowing for certain chants and formed hypotheses about how the melodies changed when they were imported into other traditions. As a group, these cognate chants suggest that melodic and textual consistency were not as highly valued as they came to be in the Carolingian milieu. Chant texts, or sections of chants, could be borrowed and adapted in flexible ways, with or without melodies. When cognate chants show clear evidence of common melodic origin, these parallels emerge in structural features of the melodies, rather than in melodic detail, much like the relationship between the Old Hispanic traditions A and B. Identifying further “multiples” may also yield insight into stages of repertorial development. The responsories shared by the Old Hispanic and Franco-​Roman traditions, for example, are concentrated in particular liturgical seasons, suggesting late, parallel developments in both regions.2 Through a comparative look at texts, melodies, and aspects of musical style, we may better understand how these repertories emerged and the common roots that underlie them. It is hoped, above all, that the Old Hispanic chant, long considered peripheral in chant studies, will take a more central role in our historical narratives about Western plainsong.

2. Collaborative research on the shared responsories was presented by Mason Brown, Ben Cefkin, Rebecca Maloy, Ruth Opara, Megan Quilliam, Melanie Shaffer, and Katherine Smith at the International Congress on Medieval Studies (Kalamazoo) in 2016 and is currently being prepared for publication.

Appendix Manuscripts with Sacrificia and Their Sigla Manuscript siglum

Shelfmark

Manuscript type

Date

Origin

A30

Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid, Cod. 30

Liber misticus

10th or 11th century

Possibly San Millán de la Cogolla

A56

Real Academia de la Historia, Madrid, Cod. 56

Episcopal Liber ordinum

10th or 11th century

Very likely San Millán de la Cogolla

BL44

London, British Library, Add. MS 30844

Unnotated Liber misticus, plus notated fragmentary Liber canticorum (f173–​177)

Late 9th or early 10th century

Unknown

BL45

London, British Library, Add. MS 30845

Liber misticus

10th or early Probably 11th century. San Millán de la Cogolla

BL46

London, British Library, Add. MS 30846

Liber misticus

10th or 11th century

Uncertain

BL95

London, British Library, Add. MS 11695

Antiphonary (fragment)

10th or 11th century

Uncertain

L8

León Cathedral Archive, MS 8

Antiphonary

10th century Near León

M-​418

Zaragoza, Library of the Faculty of Law, MS M-​418

Antiphonary (fragment)

10th or 11th century

Uncertain

MSC

Museo de Santa Cruz, Toledo, MS 1325-​1.

Liber misticus (fragment)

1200–​1250

Toledo

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288

Appendix Manuscript siglum

Shelfmark

Manuscript type

Date

Origin

S3

Santo Domingo de Silos, Biblioteca del Monasterio MS 3

(1) calendar (f.1–​ 6v); (2) sacerdotal Liber ordinum (f.7–​ 106v) and Liber misticus (containing common of saints and quotidian ferias; f.107–​179v); (3) office of the Assumption and accompanying relatio (f.180–​205v)

(1) uncertain; (2) dated January 1039; (3) late 11th century

Possibly Santa María la Real de Nájera

S4

Santo Domingo de Silos, Biblioteca del Monasterio MS 4

Episcopal Liber ordinum

May 1052

Possibly Albelda or San Millán de la Cogolla

S6

Santo Domingo de Silos, Biblioteca del Monasterio MS 6

(1) paper Liber misticus (common of saints; ff 1–​37) (2) parchment Liber misticus (ten quotidian Sundays; ff 38–​154)

Mid-​11th century

Possibly Santa María la Real de Nájera

T4

Toledo, Biblioteca Capitolare MS 35-​4

Liber misticus

1192–​1208

Owned by Santa Eulalia, Toledo; uncertain place of copying

T5

Toledo, Biblioteca Capitolare MS 35-​5

Liber misticus

Mid-​13th century

Probably in or near Toledo

T6

Toledo, Biblioteca Capitolare MS 35-​6

Liber misticus

ca. 1000

Unknown

T7

Toledo, Biblioteca Capitolare MS 35-​7

Liber misticus

ca. 1100 or somewhat later

Toledo

 Bibliography on origins and dates of manuscripts in Chapter 6, pp. 189–92, 211, and 220.

a

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Bibliography Weber, Robert. Le psautier romain et les autres anciens psautiers latins:  édition critique. Rome: Abbaye Saint-​Jérôme: Libreria Vaticana, 1953. Wiora, Walter. “Jubilare Sine Verbis.” In In Memoriam Jacques Handschin, edited by H. Anglès et al., 39–​65. Strasbourg: P. H. Heitz, 1962. Wolf, Kenneth Baxter. Christian Martyrs in Muslim Spain. Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 2014. Wolf, Kenneth Baxter. “Christian Views of Islam in Early Medieval Spain.” In Medieval Christian Perceptions of Islam: A Book of Essays, 85–​108. New York: Routledge, 2000. Wolf, Kenneth Baxter. Conquerors and Chroniclers of Early Medieval Spain. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2011. Wood, Jamie. “Brevitas in the Writings of Isidore of Seville.” In Early Medieval Spain:  A Symposium, edited by Alan Deyermond and Martin J. Ryan, 37–​54. London: Department of Hispanic Studies, Queen Mary University, 2010. Wood, Jamie. “Elites and Baptism:  Religious ‘Strategies of Distinction’ in Visigothic Spain.” In Elite and Popular Religion: Papers Read at the 2004 Summer Meeting and the 2005 Winter Meeting of the Ecclesiastical History Society, edited by Kate Cooper and James Gregory, 3–​27. Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2006. Wood, Jamie. “A Family Affair.” In Isidore of Seville and His Reception in the Early Middle Ages, edited by Andrew Fear and Jamie Wood, 31–​56. Amsterdam:  Amsterdam University Press, 2016. Wood, Jamie. “Monastic Space as Educative Space in Visigothic Iberia.” Visigothic Symposia 2 (2017–​2018): 79–​98. Wood, Jamie. The Politics of Identity in Visigothic Spain: Religion and Power in the Histories of Isidore of Seville. Leiden: Brill, 2012. Wood, Jamie. “Predicación, pedagogía, y persuasión:  la educación cristiana en occidente.” In La Iglesia colo sistema de dominación en la antigüedad tardía, edited by José Fernández Ubiña, J. Quiroga Puertas, and Purificación Ubric Rabaneda, 231–​53. Granada: Universidad de Granada, 2014. Wood, Jamie. “Religiones and Gentes in Isidore of Seville’s Chronica Maiora.” In Post-​ Roman Transitions: Christian and Barbarian Identities in the Early Medieval West, 125–​ 68. Turnhout: Brepols,  2013. Wood, Jamie, and Javier Martínez Jiménez. “New Directions in the Study of Visigothic Spain.” History Compass 14 (2016): 29–​38. Wride, Emily. “Old Hispanic Notation:  A Palaeographical Case Study.” MA diss., University of Bristol, 2018. Wright, Roger. Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France. Liverpool: F. Cairns, 1982. Young, Frances M. Biblical Exegesis and the Formation of Christian Culture. Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Zapke, Susana. El antifonario de San Juan de la Peña, siglos X–​XI: estudio litúrgico-​musical del rito hispano. Zaragoza:  Institución Fernando el Católico, Seccíon de Música Antigua, 1995.

Bibliography Zapke, Susana. “Coexistencia de signos y funciones en la cultura visigótica escrita: notas marginals.” Études Grégoriennes 40 (2013): 283–​91. Zapke, Susana. “Dating Neumes According to Their Morphology:  The Corpus of Toledo.” In The Calligraphy of Medieval Music, edited by John Haines, 91–​99. Turnhout: Brepols, 2011. Zapke, Susana. “Notation Systems in the Iberian Peninsula: From Spanish Notations to Aquitainian Notation (9th–​12th Centuries).” In Hispania Vetus: Musical-​liturgical Manuscripts from Visigothic Origins to the Franco-​Roman Transition (9th–​12th Centuries), edited by Susan Zapke, 189–​244. Bilbao: Fundación BBVA, 2007. Zapke, Susana, ed. Hispania Vetus: Musical-​liturgical Manuscripts from Visigothic Origins to the Franco-​Roman Transition (9th–​12th Centuries) (Bilbao: Fundación BBVA, 2007). Zerubavel, Eviatar. “Easter and Passover: On Calendars and Group Identity.” American Sociological Review 47 (1982): 284–​89.

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General Index Abd ar-​Rahman II, 16 Abelard, Peter, 224 Abraham as a type of God, 176 Acisclus, St., 29 Adrian and Natalia, Sts., 29 Aemilianus, St., 29 Agali (monastic house), 52 Agatha, St., 30 Alfonso I of Aragon, 221 Alfonso II, 17 Alfonso VI,  220 “alleluia,” setting of, 110–​11, 113, 133, 162,  247–​49 Allies, Neil, 53 Ambrose, 46 Al-​Andalus, Christian communities in,  221–​22 Andreas, “princeps cantorum,” 11, 13 Andrew, St., 29 animal sacrifice allegorical interpretation of, 70–​71 replacement of, 87–​88 antiphons, 11 Apringius of Beja, commentary on the Apocalypse,  46–​47 Aredius, St., 255 Arnobius, 46 Assumption, 30 Augustine, 29, 31, 46, 56, 61, 86, 101 On Christian Doctrine, 167 Contra Faustum, 50, 78 Enarrationes in psalmos, 47

Letter, 147 82 on liturgical singing, 11 on music’s power, 159 sermons, 65, 67 on sound of jubilation, 166 translation into Arabic, 224 aural-​written continuum,  202–​5   Babila, St., 31 Bailey, Terence,  258 baptism,  62–​65 of Jews, forced, 98–​100 Barrionuevo, Herminio González, 128 Beheading of John the Baptist, 29, 31, 255 Benedict, St., 255 Bernard, Philippe, 248 Braga. See Council of Braga Braulio of Saragossa, 47–​48, 53–​56, 60–​61,  70 Brou, Louis, 118 Burgos. See Council of Burgos  cadences, 109–​32,  278–​79 conflicting with verbal syntax, 168–​72 extended and delayed, 132 final,  110–​18 Franco-​Roman,  275–​76 internal,  118–​32 melodic vocabulary and grammar, 120–​22 neumes, distinctive cadential shapes and arrangements, 125–​28, 199–​200

319

320

General Index cadences (Cont.) recurrences of, 131–​32 regional melodic differences, 196, 213, 229 sensitivity to accent, 122–​24 in Toledo A and B traditions, 227–​35 variations in, 219 Caesarius of Arles, 60, 65 Cassian, 46 catechumens,  63–​65 Cecilia, St., 29 Chair of Peter, 29–​30 chant composers of, 9–​10 Franco-​Roman (“Gregorian”) and use of psalms, 71 Old Hispanic; and psalms, 71; and Western plainsong 6–​7 texts,  4–​5 textual expression in, 160–​87 Cherubikon as source for Gallican offertory, 248 choirs, 10–​11, 13 Christeta, St., 29 Christian initiation, 62–​65 Christopher, St., 29 Chronicle of 754,  15–​16 churches,Visigothic,  13–​14 circumcision, 67 feast, 30 rite, 88n.30 Collins, Roger, 61 Columba the Virgin, St., 30 Conantius of Palencia, 9 copying and aural tradition, 202–​11 Cosmas and Damian, Sts., 31, 255 Council of Braga Second, 63 Third, 56 Council of Burgos, 6, 18, 211, 220 Council of Gerona, 8 Council of Narbona, 56 Councils of Toledo Second, 55

Third, 1, 7, 46 Fourth, 3, 8, 13, 55–​56, 98–​99, 243 Sixth, 56 Eighth, 56 Ninth, 99 Tenth, 102 Councils,Visigothic,  55 creed, the, 63–​65 Cucuphas, St., 29, 40n.38 culture,Visigothic, and education, 42–​69 Cyprian of Carthage, 46, 79n.18, 177 Cyprian, St., 30, 35, 89  devotion, inspired by singing, 159–​60 discourse, anti-​Jewish, 4, 21, 43, 48, 68, 74, 81,  87–​103 Donatus, 257 Dorothy, St., 30 Dumio, 52  Education Christian, in Visigothic Iberia, 4 clerical and monastic, 51–​57 laity,  60–​68 liturgy as a form of, 59–​69 Emeterius and Caledonius, Sts., 31 Emilian, 47 Emilianus, St., 31 Engratia, St., 30 Eucharist, linked to Old Testament, 20–​21 Eugenius II of Toledo, 9–​10 Eulalia of Barcelona, St., 30, 33 Eulalia of Merida, St., 29 Eulogius, 223 Euphemia, St., 29 Eusebius Gallicanus, 65–​66 exegesis, biblical,, 45–​51 Expositio on Gallican liturgy, 21–​22   Faustus and Martial, Sts., 29 Felix, St., 29 festivals, Jewish transferred to Christian, 90,  95–​96

General Index Fischer, Bonifatius, 256 Florentina (sister of Leander and Isidore), 48, 55, 70, 96 florilegia, 47 Fontaine, Jacques, 45 Freeman, Ann, 60 Fronimian, 48 Fructuosus of Braga, 52–​55, 70 Fructuosus, St., 30  Genesius, St., 29, 31 genres, chant, 11–​12 Gerona. See Council of Gerona grammar, melodic, 120–​22 Gregory I, Pope, 56 Gregory the Great, Pope, 8–​9, 46, 61 Moralia in Iob, 44, 47–​50, 57, 82, 103 translation into Arabic, 224 Gros i Pujol, Miquel, 221  Haas, Max, 217 “haec,” setting of, 77, 146, 155, 161, 168, 170, 175, 180, 206, 208 Ḥafṣ ibn Albar al-​Qūṭī,  224–​25 Hermenegild, 1 Hilary, 56 Holy Innocents, 30 Hornby, Emma, 5  Iactatus, 56 Ildefonsus of Toledo, 9, 53–​54 De cognitione baptismi, 64 De virginitate Sanctae Mariae, 97, 102 Institutionum disciplinae, 61 Isaac as a type of Christ, 176 Isidore of Seville, 2–​3 Allegoriae, 47 on Christian education, 43–​58 Christian interpretation of Old Testament, 176 Chronicon, 101 De ecclesiasticis officiis, 9–​13, 20–​21, 50, 88, 159, 247

De fide catholica, 48–​49, 57, 68, 79, 96–​97 De musica, 118n.15 118 De uiris illustribus, 9 definition of sacrificium, 22 Etymologiae, 11, 53 incorporation of scripture, 44 and the Jews, 98–​101 on jubilation, 166–​76 Liber differentiarum, 49 and meditatio, 78 Mysticorum expositiones, 46–​47, 49, 78, 82, 85–​87, 186 on the offertory, 248 on prayer, 43 Regula communis,  52–​53 on the sacrificium, 19–​21 Sententiae, 43, 48–​49, 54, 78, 82, 103 on singing, 159–​60, 185–​86 Synonyma, 44–​45, 78 translation into Arabic, 224 Isidore of Seville (attr.), Epistola ad Leudefredum, 12, 23 Iusta and Rufina, Sts., 30 Iustus and Pastor, Sts., 30  James, St., 29–​30, 40 Janini, José, 226 Jeffery, Peter, 258 Jerome, 31, 46, 56, 61, 224; sermons 65 Jews forced conversion of, 62, 86, 98–​100 required to attend Christian festivals, 99, 102 See also discourse, anti-​Jewish Jiménez de Rada, Rodrigo, 221–​22 John of Biclaro, 1 John of Gorze, 223 John of Saragossa, 9, 53–​54 John the Apostle, St., 29, 35 John the Baptist, 30 John the Evangelist, St., 30 jubilation, 20, 22, 166–​67, 179 melismas at, 172

321

322

General Index jubilus, 166 Judaism, suppression of, 2 Julian, Dorothy, and Eugenia, Sts., 29 Julian of Toledo, De comprobatione sextae aetatis, 97 Justus of Urgell, Explanatio in Cantica Canticorum, 46  Krueger, Derek, 63  laude (alleluia), 11–​12, 107, 134 Laurence, St., 31, 251 Leander of Seville, 1, 9, 21, 46, 52, 55, 96 De institutione virginum et de contemptu mundi, 70 Leocadia, St., 29 León tradition, sources of, 189–​90 Leovigild, 1, 257 Levy, Kenneth, 240, 252, 265–​67 Lex Visigothorum, 60 Licianus, bishop of Cartagena, 56 literacy, 54–​55, 60 musical, 128, 199–​205 liturgy, Gallican, 243–​49 offertories in, 21–​22 liturgy, Old Hispanic, 3 two liturgical traditions, 219–​26  Mamertus, St., 29 manuscripts Benevento, Archivio di Stato, MS B:, 264,  266–​67 Benevento, Biblioteca Capitolare, MS 34:, 278 León, Cathedral Archive, MS, 8: 7, 15, 17, 23–​36, 40, 60, 72, Ch. 4 passim, 186, 188, 190, 192–​210, 212–​16, 218–​19, 222,  227–​40 London, British Library Add. MS 11695:, 29, 192 Add. MS 30844:, 24, 27, 29–​31, 33, 190n.4

Add. MS 30845:, 29–​32, 33n.28, 191, 193, 195, 197–​99, 201–​21, 205n.29, 215–​16,  227 Add. MS 30846:, 24, 27, 29–​30, 32, 190n.4 Madrid, Real Academia de la Historia Cod. 30:, 24, 29–​31, 156n.114, 180n.54, 190, 206–​10, 214–​16, 227 Cod. 56:, 25, 29, 32, 190, 191n.8, 194, 196–​99,  201 Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Aumer:, 238 Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France lat. 776:, 269–​70, 273, 276 lat. 780:, 264, 266–​67 Santo Domingo de Silos, Biblioteca del Monasterio MS 3:, 25, 29–​33, 40, 191, 197–​99, 201, 205n.29, 227 MS 4:, 25, 29, 32, 191, 197–​99, 201, 215 MS 6:, 26, 29–​33, 191–​92, 202–​3, 205, 215 St. Gallen, Stiftsbibliothek, MS 339:, 270 Toledo, Biblioteca Capitular MS 35-​4:, 26–​27, 28n.26, 29–​33, 194, 211–​15, 220n.55, 221, 227, 235 MS 35-​6:, 26–​27, 29–​30,  211–​12 MS 35-​7:, 24, 29–​30, 35–​36, 194, 211–​16, 221, 225, 235 Toledo, Museo de Santa Cruz, MS 1325:, 30–​31, 220–​21, 227, 233, 235–​37 Verona, Cathedral, Biblioteca Capitolare, Cod. LXXXIX:, 7, 12, 16, 28–​30, 33n.28, 57–​58, 226 Wolfenbüttel, Herzog August Bibliothek, MS Weissenburg 76:, 249–​50, 254, 256 Zaragoza, Library of the Faculty of Law, MS M-​418:, 30–​31, 192, 214n.46

General Index Martin, St., 29, 31, 255 Ordination of, 31 Martin of Braga, De castigone rusticorum, 65 Mary,Virgin,  29 Masona of Merida, 1 Maundy Thursday,  68 meditatio, 43–​44, 78 melismas,  129–​31 endings,  139–​42 in Franco-​Roman offertories, 270–​75 on important words, 172–​73 long, 133–​6; and text setting 161–​87; variants in 205–​11 in margin, 134–​35, 143, 177–​78, 184, 209 and melodic rhetoric, 173–​79, 206–​11 melodic syntax, 136–​56 notational habits in, 146–​48 Old Hispanic, compared with other repertories,  263–​69 openings, 139, 142–​46 repetition in, 135–​36 and text, 134 melodic rhetoric in sacrificia and offertories,  276–​79 melodic transmission León and Rioja traditions, 189–​90 in, 10th-​and 11th-​c. manuscripts  192–​99 in Old Hispanic sources, 188–​241 188 sources,  190–​92 melodicus, 15 melodies, Old Hispanic relation to texts, 3–​5 similarities with other traditions,  263–​69 Michael, St., 29 Missale mixtum, 242 modality in Old Hispanic chant, 118 monasticism Gallican, 52 Irish, 52

Moreno, Aaron, 221 Mozarabic culture and liturgy, 223–​25 “Mozarabic parishes”, 220–​23 Mozarabs, historiography, 223 Mundó, Anscari Manuel, 225  Nadeau, Nils, 5, 155, 163 names, Hebrew, and cadences, 123 Nanctus, Abbot, 257 Narbona. See Council of Narbona neo-​Visigothic impetus, 17 neumes, 3, 5, 17, 103, 108–​9 cadential, 108–​11, 113, 118, 121–​22, 125–​26, 128–​29, 132, 147, 151–​52, 200, 215, 229–​30, 268, 282 combinations, 108–​9, 119–​20, 127, 133, 136–​39, 144, 146, 157, 234–​35, 265, 269–​70, 272, 274–​75, 282 in openings, 149 pitch implications, 128, 268 positioning within writing space, 127–​28, 146–​48, 200–​201,  206–​7 shared, 118, 156 within melismas, 141–​46 Nicene Christianity, 71 notation distinctive shapes, 125–​29 Toledan,  212–​16 Visigothic, 18  offerendae, Milanese, 258–​59, 261–​63 offertories Aquitainian,  254–​56 Franco-​Roman (“Gregorian”), 3, 23, 42, 107, 252 Gallican,  243–​56 Hispanic (see sacrificium) North African,  256–​58 offertory rite, Iberian, 21–​22 shared traits, 242 themes, 248 “oral-​formulaic” theory,  157–​58

323

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General Index Ordo Romanus XV, 246–​48, 258 Origen, 46–​47, 68, 82, 87 Orosius, 224  pacing of text, 162–​68 patristic texts in Visigothic Iberia, 45–​49, 82 Paul, St., 255 Paulus Alvarus,  223–​24 Peter and Paul, Sts., 29 Peter (melodicus), 15 phrases,  148–​56 Pinel, Jordi, 221, 226 pitch direction and repetition, 108 prayers,  57–​58 processions, Gallican offertory, 22 psalmist, 11–​12, 23 psalter in Arabic, 224–​25 Pseudo-​Germanus, Expositio, 246–​49  Quasten, Johannes, 248  Randel, Don, 5, 23, 118, 161, 189, 197 ranges, contrasting, 277–​78 Reccared, King, conversion of, 1 Recceswinth, 60, 99, 102 refrains,  256–​57 repetendum, 37, 105, 107 repetition melodic, 152–​56,  180–​85 of notes, 152 rhetorical, 164 responsories, 11–​12, 23, 37, 59, 189n.1, 258, 260, 262–​63, 286 responsory verse tones, 149, 189–​90, 197, 200, 212 rhetoric. See melodic rhetoric Rioja tradition, sources of, 190–​92 rite, Byzantine, in Spain, 8 rite, Old Hispanic continued use after suppression, 6 history of, 7–​14 restoration of, 242 Romanus, St., 29 

Sabina, St., 29 sacrifice, as contrast between law and gospel, 49 sacrifices, animal, allegorical interpretation of, 70–​71 sacrificia, 3, 19–​41 atypical neume combinations, 265–​66 biblical exegesis in, 70–​104 chronology,  40–​41 linked to Eucharistic sacrifice, 19–​21 melismas in, 278–​79 melodic language, 105–​58 musical form, 105–​7 occasional,  31–​33 and offertories, 269–​79 and offertory chants in other traditions,  242–​80 in other liturgical traditions, 260 performance of, 23 prehistory of, 243–​46 quotidiano cycle, 33–​37 and readings and sermons, 66–​68 reworking of biblical text (see scripture, reworking of) sacrificial typology in, 49–​51 in the sanctorale, 28–​33 structure, 37 in the temporale, 24–​28 in 10th-​and 11th-​c. manuscripts,  189–​92 texts not known outside Missale mixtum, 242 topics, 23 typologies in, 252 words and music in, 159–​87 See also cadences Salvatierra de Tormes, 59 Saturninus, St., 29, 255 scripture reworking of in sacrificia, 37–​39, 42–​45, 71–​97, 161, 250, 252 in Visigothic Iberia, 43–​47 Septimania, 243–​44, 249, 256

General Index sermons, 65–​69,  97–​98 Servandus and Germanus, Sts., 30–​31 Simon and Jude, Sts., 29 Simonet, Francisco Javier, 223 singers,  10–​11 Sisebut, 2, 60–​61, 98, 100 sonus, 134, 246–​48 sources, musical, with notation, 14–​15 Stephen, St., 29, 33, 257 synagogue, associations with, 74  Taio of Saragossa, 47 Sententiae, 48, 87, 97 Tertullian, 46, 97 text, delivery of, 129–​32 textless music as jubilation, 166–​67 Theodulf of Orleans, 60 threnos, 45 Thyrsus, St., 29, 31 Toledan text setting, 215 Toledo, Councils of. See Councils of Toledo Toledo A tradition, 188–​89, 211–​19, 222,  225–​26 cadences in, 227–​35 melodies in, 214–​16, 227–​41, 235–​39 transmission,  217–​19

Toledo B tradition, 188–​89, 219–​23, 226 cadences in, 227–​35 melodies in, 227–​41, 235–​39 Toledo homiliary, 65 Torquatus, St., 29–​30, 33 transmission of chant, wörtlich–​stofflich distinction,  217–​19 melodic (see melodic transmission) Treitler, Leo, 217 trumpets, sacrificial, and relation to music, 19–​20, 24–​49, 172, 179 typology links to Old Testament, 88, 90 sacrificial, in sacrificia, 49–​51  unity, liturgical, 8–​9 Urban (melodicus), 15  Valerio of Bierzo, 59 Velázquez Soriano, Isabel, 59 Vetus Latina, 72 Vincent of Saragossa, 29–​30, 67, 77, 170 Visigoths, conversion of, 1  word painting in chant, 160, 160–​87

325

Incipits of Chants Examples are indicated by Ex. following the page number  Ab absconsis, 25, 194–​95, 196 (Ex. 6.1) Accepit, 142n.73, 169n.26, 90, 172, 171 (Ex. 5.4), 172n.32, 272n.79 Aedificavit Abraham altare, 34, 37, 168n.23, 176, 178 (Ex. 5.6), 179 Aedificavit David altare, 35 Aedificavit Moyses altare, 26, 144n.76, 145 (Ex. 4.16), 155n.104, 172n.32, 172n.35, 173n.37, 227, 249n.31, 268n.70, 272n.79, 68, 90 Aedificavit Moyses tabernaculum, 34, 169n.26, 172n.30, 178, 179 (Ex. 5.6), 215 Aedificavit Noe altare, 20n.6, 34, 38–​39, 142n.70, 144nn.78–​79, 152n.98, 172n.29 Aedificavit Salomon, 32, 39n.7, 143 (Ex. 4.15), 152n.95, 152n.100, 155n.104, 169n.25, 172n.35 Alienigenae, 259n.58 Alleluia angelus domini, 26, 137, 138 (Ex. 4.12), 139n.67, 142nn.74–​75, 169, 227, 273 Alleluia clamor factus, 30, 132n.51, 194, 202, 203–​4 (Ex. 6.2), 205, 218–​19 Alleluia elegerunt, 29, 33, 67, 233, 253, 260 Alleluia magna facta, 29, 139n.67, 144n.77 Alleluia oblatio iusti, 31, 112 (Ex. 4.3), 137, 138 (Ex. 4.12), 42n.75, 144n.78, 169, 274

Alleluia palmae fuerunt, 30, 137, 138 (Ex. 4.12), 144n.78, 274 Alleluia prima sabbatorum, 27, 139n.67, 145 (Ex. 4.16), 151n.93, 156, 173, 174 (Ex. 5.5), 228 Alleluia quasi carmen, 26, 127n.42 Alleluia steterunt levitate, 259 Alleluia temporibus, 26, 140 (Ex. 4.13), 142n.73, 144n.77, 145 (Ex. 4.16), 181, 182 (Ex. 5.7) Altare aureum, 35, 88n.31, 274 Altaria tua,  254–​55 Amplificare oblationem, 20, 30, 139n.67, 144nn.78–​79, 172n.31, 180n.55, 193, 194 (Ex. 6.1) Angelus domini venit, 112 (Ex. 4.3), 231, 251,  254–​55 Anima nostra, 274n.84 Apparebit tibi, 30, 144n.78, 152n.98, 169n.26 Aspexi et vidi, 27, 30, 39n.7, 152n.99, 155n.104, 168n.23, 172n.30, 173n.37 Assumpta est, 274n.84 Audi Israhel (Gregorian), 253–54, 271n.76 Audi Israhel preceptum, 27, 95, 156n.115, 212, 213 (Ex. 6.7) Audi Israhel quia magna, 32, 35, 141 (Ex. 4.14), 172n.35, 173n.38, 228 Ave Maria, 251

327

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Incipits of Chants Averte domine faciem, 25, 144n.76, 153, 155n.108, 173, 174 (Ex. 5.5), 274  Benedictus qui venit, 255 Benedictus sit, 254 Benedictus sit/​es deus pater, 253  Cantate domino, 257n.48 Celebraverunt, 259 Circuibo et immolabo in tabernaculo eius, 30, 127n.45, 136, 137 (Ex. 4.11), 152n.99, 155n.109, 172n.34, 172n.36, 214n.46, 250 Confirma hoc, 272n.80 Confortamini, 246n.17, 251, 252n.39, 272n.79 Congregavit David, 20n.6, 34, 88n.31, 172n.32 Contumelias, 258n.56, 260 Curvati sunt, 255, 258n.56, 260 Custodi, 255  Data est lex, 30, 136 (Ex. 4.10), 66–​67, 231 Deprecatus est populus, 20n.6, 36, 38–​39,  250 Deus enim, 272n.83 Deus tu convertens, 271n.77, 273 Domine deus in simplicitate, 251 Domine deus salutis, 274, 277, 278 (Ex. 7.7), 279 Domine exaudi, 255 Domine quis requiescet in sedibus in tabernaculo suo, 250 Dominus Ihesus, 152n.97, 182 Dominus Ihesus . . . misit, 26, 156n.112, 170, 171 (Ex. 5.4) Dominus Ihesus Christus in qua nocte, 26, 40 Dum complerentur, 27, 173, 174 (Ex. 5.5), 194 

Ecce dominus de Sion, 259nn.57–​58 Ecce ostendit, 24, 45n.11, 74–​75, 155n.105, 162 (Ex. 5.1), 163–​64, 166, 168, 173, 274 Ego audivi, 259n.58 Ego Daniel, 24, 124 (Ex. 4.7) Ego dominus creavi, 31, 134, 135n.62, 144n.77, 156n.112, 169n.26, 172n.29, 175, 176 (Ex. 5.6), 231 Ego servus, 29, 113n.14, 144n.79, 172n.28, 197, 198–​99 (Ex. 6.1) Elegerunt apostoli, 253–​54, 267 Elegit dominus virum unum, 20n.6, 30, 35, 39n.5, 88–​89, 213n.45 Elevavit Aaron munera, 20n.6, 35, 38–​39 Elevavit sacerdos, 32, 36, 152n.97, 152n.99, 155n.109, 214 Emitte spiritum, 271n.77, 274 Erit (Gregorian and Old Hispanic), 264 (Ex. 7.1), 265, 266 (Ex. 7.2–​3), 267 (Ex. 7.4), 268–​69 Erit hic, 156, 263 Erit hic vobis, 26, 156, 260, 263 Erit vobis, 251, 252n.39 Exaltent eum in ecclesia plebis, 250 Exaudiat deus, 40 Exaudiat nos, 32, 155n.107, 197, 201n.27 Exaudita est, 258n.55, 260 Exsulta satis, 246n.17, 251, 252n.39, 272n.83  Factus est dominus, 255 Factus est repente, 253–​54, 271n.76 Felix namque, 255 Formavit dominus, 34, 142n.73, 144n.79, 144n.81, 152n.97, 156n.110, 175, 215 Fulgebit, 29, 111 (Ex. 4.2), 135n.62, 197, 215, 228  Gloriabuntur, 274n.84 

Ecce agnus dei, 26, 155, 172n.36, 227, 231–​32,  234 Ecce apertum, 259n.58

Haec dicit . . . dabo, 31, 113n.14, 141 (Ex. 4.14), 173n.38

Incipits of Chants Haec dicit . . . effundam, 27, 155n.104, 173n.38 Haec dicit . . . formans te, 30, 67, 77, 143 (Ex. 4.15), 144n.76, 156, 124 (Ex. 4.7), 170, 171 (Ex. 5.4), 180, 181 (Ex. 5.7), 206, 208, 209 (Ex. 6.5) Haec dicit . . . qui erat, 142n.75, 144n.76, 156n.113, 168n.22, 261–62 Hii dies exorationis, 24, 66, 88, 227, 232,  233–​34 Holocausta medullata, 254–​55, 271n.76, 272  Immaculatas hostiarum, 254–​55, 271n.76 In carnes tollendas, 66, 168 In die solemnitatis, 251–​52, 273 In medio crepidinis, 32, 172n.32, 173n.38, 183 (Ex. 5.7) In pascha domini, 20n.6, 26, 39n.5, 90, 92, 96n.37, 227, 231–​32 In simplicitate cordis, 25, 32, 197 In te speravi, 272n.83, 273 In tempore illo, 25, 144n.81, 172n.33, 227–​28,  231 In temporibus illis erat, 34, 142nn.73–​74, 144n.77, 145 (Ex. 4.16), 163n.13, 168n.23, 169n.26, 170, 174, 268n.70, 273 Ingressus, 254 Ingressus . . . in domum, 140 (Ex. 4.13), 227, 231, 233 Ingressus est . . . in domus Petri, 152n.99, 156n.111 Ingressus est Daniel, 24, 135n.58, 135n.62, 79–​81, 139n.68, 175, 177 (Ex. 5.6), 231,  283–​84 Ingressus est sacerdos, 35 Ingressus est vir dei, 35 Ingressus est Zacharias, 253 Ingressus Ihesus in domum Petri, 32 Ingressus Paulus, 255 Inponit sacerdos memorialem, 250 Intempesta noctis, 255

Isti sunt dies festi, 26, 139n.67 Isti sunt dies quos, 25, 39n.7, 66, 90, 91–92, 96n.37, 151 (Ex. 4.20), 175, 227, 262 Isti sunt dies quos nulla, 259nn.57–​58, 60 Iubilate deo omnis, 274 Iubilate deo universa, 271n.77 Iustitiam tuam, 31, 140 (Ex. 4.13), 144n.77, 169n.26 Iustorum animae, 255, 272n.83 Iustus ut palma, 260  Laetentur, 255 Lauda anima, 271n.77, 272n.83 Levabo inter innocentes, 255 Locutus est . . . ad principem, 144n.76, 232 Locutus est . . . amen dico, 144n.76, 173, 174 (Ex. 5.5) Locutus est . . . ecce ego, 74n.8, 170, 171 (Ex. 5.4), 181, 232 Locutus est . . . ecce vocavi, 32, 111 (Ex. 4.2), 141 (Ex. 4.14), 142n.73, 169n.25, 268n.70 Locutus est Daniel, 30, 126 (Ex. 4.8), 140 (Ex. 4.13), 144n.80, 150 (Ex. 4.19), 169n.26, 206, 208 (Ex. 6.4) Locutus est David, 32, 152 Locutus est dominus ad Gideon, 35 Locutus est dominus ad Moysen . . . ecce, 35 Locutus est dominus discipulis, 40 Locutus est dominus Ihesus . . . amen dico, 27  Martinus igitur,  255–​56 Meditabor, 251, 274n.84 Melchisedec rex, 34, 37, 68, 139n.68, 144n.78, 152n.100, 172n.30, 182, 183 (Ex. 5.7), 215 Memor sit,  253–​55 Mihi autem, 272n.80, 273 Mirabilis, 30, 155n.109, 173n.37, 259n.60, 260 Misit rex, 255

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Incipits of Chants Multiplicavit, 24, 66, 88, 90, 95, 113n.14, 139n.67, 155n.108, 168–​69, 170 (Ex. 5.3), 172, 177, 180, 181 (Ex. 5.7) Munera accepta, 29, 88n.30, 132n.51, 136, 137 (Ex. 4.11), 139n.67, 142nn.74–​75, 144n.76, 172n.34, 172n.36, 173n.38, 209, 210 (Ex. 6.6), 273  O quam gloriosam, 255 Obtulit, 259n.58 Offeramus domino sacrificium, 32 Offerimus tibi, 32 Offerte, 233, 274 Offerte domino holocausta, 39n.7, 126 (Ex. 4.8), 139n.67, 151 (Ex. 4.20) Offerte domino mundum, 25, 112 (Ex. 4.4), 155, 172n.36, 227–​28, 237, 238–​39 (Ex. 6.11), 240 Offerte sacerdotes, 36, 155n.104, 155n.109, 168n.22 Omnes amici mei,  57–​58 Omnes de Saba, 24, 112 (Ex. 4.4), 135n.63, 172n.36 Omnes populus, 144n.76, 168n.25 Omnes qui me, 172n.34, 274 Omnes viri, 29, 132n.51, 140 (Ex. 4.13), 153, 154 (Ex. 4.22), 155n.109 Omnis populus adoraverunt, 27, 88n.31, 90, 94–​96, 144n.80, 152n.99, 172n.28, 172n.31, 233 Omnis qui me, 31, 172n.36 Oratio mea, 251, 259n.60, 260 Oravi deum, 31, 39n.7, 110n.13, 251, 260, 263, 272n.82  Paratum panem, 20n.6, 36, 39n.5 Parvulus natus est nobis, 24, 142n.73, 156 Populum humilem, 272n.83 Portas caeli, 251 Precatus et Moyses,  251–​52 Preparatum, 259n.58 Priusquam formarem, 258n.55

Prope est, 29, 272n.79 Protege domine, 255–​56  Quid dignum, 32, 152n.97  Recordare mei, 251, 272n.82 Regnabit dominus, 24, 123 (Ex. 4.6), 139n.68, 144n.76, 155n.105, 168n.22, 172n.34, 172n.36, 173n.38 Regnum est potestas, 29, 121 (Ex. 4.5), 172n.35 Requiem nobis dabit, 32, 40  Sacerdos Zacharias, 30, 121 (Ex. 4.5), 127n.45, 152n.99, 155n.108, 169n.26, 227, 232 Sacerdotes domini offerte insensum, 34, 248n.30 Sacerdotes loquimini, 249 Sacerdotes offerunt munera, 31, 172n.31 Sacerdotis (sic) loquimini in corde hierusalem, 250 Sacrificium deo spiritus, 24, 111 (Ex. 4.2), 155n.108, 172n.34, 172n.36, 173n.38,  227–​28 Sacrificium sacrificationis, 257 Salvator mundi,  255–​56 Salve presentem, 255 Sanctivicavit Moyses altare, 20n.6, 34, 38–​39, 78, 82–​84, 86–​88, 104, 155n.104, 156n.110, 168n.23, 173n.37, 175n.42, 228, 231, 233, 249n.31, 251, 258n.55, 260–​61, 263, 268, 269 (Ex. 7.5), 270 (Ex. 7.6), 272–​73, 277–​78 Sapientia iustum, 29, 113n.14, 144n.79, 144n.81, 172n.28 Scapulis suis, 272n.83 Scio, 58 Serviamus, 25, 155n.109, 175n.42, 227, 233 Si ambulavero, 274n.84 Si enim sapientiam, 31 Si in praeceptis, 24, 27, 35

Incipits of Chants Sicut cedrus exaltata sum, 20n.6, 30, 39n.5, 132n.51, 172n.29, 173n.38, 194, 234 Sicut in holocausto,  253–​54 Sicut turris, 30, 148 (Ex. 4.18), 214 (Ex. 6.8), 215, 216 (Ex. 6.9) Sollemnem habeatus, 20n.6, 26, 38–​39, 88, 90, 93, 96n.37, 152n.100, 155n.108, 168n.25, 172n.35, 173n.37, 181, 182 (Ex. 5.7), 227 Spiritus qui venit, 255 Stans sacerdos, 20, 29, 39n.35, 39n.37, 73, 88, 146 (Ex. 4.17), 168n.25, 172n.29, 172n.33, 228, 248n.30 Stetit angelus, 27, 152, 153 (Ex. 4.21), 155n.104, 253–​55, 258nn.55–​56, 260, 272n.83 Super flumina, 251, 274n.84 Suplices dei, 257 Suscipe domine sacrificium, 32, 156n.110  Terra tremuit, 272n.80 Tollite hostias, 32 

Ubi sunt nunc, 259n.58  Venient ad te, 24, 74, 123 (Ex. 4.6), 134, 139n.67, 142n.74, 143 (Ex. 4.15), 144n.77, 144n.81, 146 (Ex. 4.17), 155n.104, 156, 164, 165 (Ex. 5.2), 166, 168n.22, 168n.25, 172–​73, 206, 207 (Ex. 6.3), 232, 274 Venite benedicti, 29, 105, 106 (Ex. 4.1), 107–​10, 130 (Ex. 4.9), 131–​34, 145 (Ex. 4.16), 146 (Ex. 4.17), 147–​48, 152n.99, 156n.110, 227, 231, 233, 235, 236–​37 (Ex. 6.10), 240 Verba mea, 272n.81 Vidi in caelo, 27, 111 (Ex. 4.2), 135n.63, 152n.98, 183, 184 (Ex. 5.8), 185 Vir erat,  251–​52 Viri Galilaei, 253–​55, 272n.83 Vos qui transituri, 35, 259n.60, 260 Vos sancti, 31 Vota tua, 32

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