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Bull, Andrew James Anderson (2017) The Conductus of W1: an
investigation into their history and rhythm. MMus(R) thesis.
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Enlighten:Theses
1
The Conductus of W1:
An Investigation into their History and Rhythm
Andrew James Anderson Bull
BMus (hons)
Submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the
Masters in Music (Musicology)
Supervisors: Dr David McGuinness and Professor John Butt
Department of Music
School of Culture and Creative Arts
College of Arts
University of Glasgow
April 2017
Word Count: 19,249
© Andrew Bull 2016
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Abstract
The manuscript ‘W1’, otherwise known as the St Andrews Music Book, contains 197
folios of music from the 13th century. This music was transmitted to St Andrews
from the cathedral of Notre-Dame, Paris, which was the centre of European
religious music making during the 12th and 13th centuries. The history of W1 is a
fiercely debated topic, and this thesis will tackle some of the recent claims made
regarding its dating, as well as dealing with some of the issues surrounding the
conductus, a certain style of the Notre-Dame polyphonic chant repertoire, which
inhabits a unique place in the repertoire of this time. Not evidently liturgical, but
not secular, its role in the medieval church is highly debated, and its
interpretation under the supposed ‘universal’ approach of Notre-Dame modal
rhythm is ripe for enquiry.
This rhythmical theory has been deduced from the interpretation of medieval
theorists’ writings, however these writers were not clear and concise in terms of
modern expectations. We find ourselves with a body of theoretical treatises
written after several of the major manuscript sources were already created, posing
a question for modern interpreters: should we apply these theoretical writings to a
time before they were created, and were these practices in fact in use before the
systemisation represented by the treatises occurred? Whilst much work has been
done in applying modal rhythm to music which could predate the codification of
modal rhythm, remarkably few editions present the music of this time without
rhythmical biases. As this thesis will show, notions of rhythm were far more based
around performative interpretations by the musicians, that than by abstract
theoretical readings of notation.
The rhythmically-undefined editions of this music that are found at the end of this
thesis are an attempt to return this repertoire’s rhythm to its previous
interpretational and performative aspect. This was found in the early years of
Notre-Dame polyphony, where the notation was primarily meant only as a guide to
the music’s shape. The intended use of these scores is a method more akin to a
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notational pitch guide than a fully metrically-conceived score, allowing for
performances closer to the rhythmic freedom that the early Notre-Dame musicians
had within this repertoire.
Thanks
A large amount of thanks are due to the following people, without whom this
thesis would be nowhere near complete:
To David McGuinness and John Butt, for putting up with a distinct lack of focus and
clarity from me concerning what precisely I was doing
To John Purser and Warwick Edwards, for setting me down this path nearly two
years ago.
My parents, for putting up with me throughout this, and always being supportive
no matter what.
And last, but by no means least, to Rhii (and Renly) for always being there for me.
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Table of Contents
Abstract................................................................................................................................................ 3
List of Examples................................................................................................................................. 7
Preface.................................................................................................................................................. 8
Chapter 1: The History and Placement of W1 in the Notre-Dame Repertoire ............ 9
Contents of the Manuscript...................................................................................................... 11
The Dating and Creation of W1 ............................................................................................. 12
The Flourished Initials of W1 .................................................................................................. 13
On the lack of Motets ............................................................................................................... 17
The Mauvoisin and W1 Dating discrepancy ........................................................................ 19
W1's More Recent Travels......................................................................................................... 21
Chapter 2: On the Position of the Conductus in the Notre-Dame Repertoire and the
Church ............................................................................................................................................... 25
Definitions of the Term ‘Conductus’ ................................................................................... 25
The Source of the Term ‘Conductus’ .................................................................................. 27
The Usage of Conductus............................................................................................................ 29
Chapter 3: The Rhythmic World of W1 ................................................................................. 31
Modal Rhythm .............................................................................................................................. 31
Conductus as Discant? ............................................................................................................... 38
Earlier Notions of Rhythm ........................................................................................................ 40
The Influence of Poetry ........................................................................................................... 42
Is Modal Rhythm Defensible for W1? .................................................................................... 44
Geographical Difference........................................................................................................... 48
Chapter 4: Editorial Procedure and Terminology............................................................... 51
Editorial Procedure .................................................................................................................... 51
Terminology ................................................................................................................................. 53
Cauda/Caudae ........................................................................................................................ 53
Cum/Sine Littera ................................................................................................................... 53
Currentes .................................................................................................................................. 54
Ligature (Binaria, Ternaria) ............................................................................................... 54
Plica/Plicae .............................................................................................................................. 55
Puncta and Virga .................................................................................................................... 56
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Silbenstrich .............................................................................................................................. 57
Tenor, Duplum, Triplum ..................................................................................................... 59
Chapter 5: Transcriptions and Commentary ........................................................................ 61
Festa ianuaria ............................................................................................................................. 62
Verbum pater exibuit ............................................................................................................... 63
Premii dilatio .............................................................................................................................. 66
Trine vocis tripudio ................................................................................................................... 70
Editorial Commentary ............................................................................................................... 77
Festa ianuaria .......................................................................................................................... 77
Verbum pater exibuit ........................................................................................................... 78
Premii dilatio ........................................................................................................................... 79
Trine vocis tripudio................................................................................................................ 81
References........................................................................................................................................ 85
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List of examples
Example 1: page 32; Rhythmic Pattern for Mode 1.
Example 2: page 33; Rhythmic Pattern for Modes 3, 4, and 5.
Example 3: page 54; A Ternaria ligature with currentes, with modern
transcription.
Example 4: page 54; Binaria ligatures, with modern transcriptions.
Example 5: page 55; Ternaria ligatures, with modern transcriptions.
Example 6: page 55; Plica, with modern transcription.
Example 7: page 56; Binaria with plica occuring in one part at same time as binaria
without in another, along with modern transcription.
Example 8: page 56; Binaria with plica occuring at same time as ternaria, with
modern transcription.
Example 9: page 57; Puncta and Virga, with modern transcription.
Example 10: page 58; Silbenstrich.
Example 11: page 58; Modern transcription of a Silbenstrich occurring as a rest.
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Chapter 1: The History and Placement of W1 in the Notre-Dame Repertoire
W1 is one of the largest extant sources for the music of the Notre-Dame style of
polyphony, and is currently stored at the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel,
Germany, catalogued under ‘Codex Guelf. 628 Helmstadiensis’ (formerly Heinemann
catalogue 677).1 Friedrich Ludwig’s initial report of the manuscript in Wolfenbüttel
lead to its moniker ‘W1’ (it being the earliest Notre-Dame manuscript that Ludwig
found there), though it has also been called ‘The St Andrews Music Book’. Likely
created for the Scottish cathedral priory of St. Andrews (note the inscriptions ‘liber
monasterii S. andree apostolic in Scocia’ on folio 64,2 and the upside-down ‘Viro
venerando discrecionis Iacobo clerici sancti Andree’ on folio 1723), the manuscript
contains examples of nearly all the major styles of Notre-Dame music (motets being
the only notable exception – see pages 17 and 46 for a further examination of this).
It is divided into eleven fascicles, each containing a portion of the repertory for a
particular style, with occasional extras added onto the end of a fascicle as further
work was carried out after the main scribal entries had been made.4 Two numbering
systems have been used in the manuscript: a potentially early 14th-century hand in
the top middle of each page starting in Roman numerals then changing to Arabic
numbering from page 30 onwards, and a later 19th-century foliation also in Arabic
numerals found in the right hand corner of each page. 5 The older numbering system
takes precedence throughout this work, with the more recent system only ever
included in the transcriptions given at the end, contained in brackets after the older
foliation.
The number of scribes, and their identity, is a tricky puzzle that has occupied
musicologists since the 1970s. Edward Roesner claims there were three scribes that
1 An online facsimile is available: Herzog August Bibliothek (unknown) MSS 628 Helmst. [Online]
2 Roesner, Edward H. (1993) Le Mangus Liber Organi de Notre-Dame de Paris. Volume 1: Les
Quadrupla et Tripla de Paris. Monaco: Éditions de l’Oiseau-Lyre, p. lxiii. Roesner dates this hand to
the 14th century.
3 Brown, Julian; Patterson, Sonia; Hiley, David. (1981) ‘Further observations on W1’. Journal of the
Plainsong and Mediaeval Music Society, pp. 53–80, 56.
4 Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiv.
5 Edwards, Warwick. (2000) ‘Polyphony in Thirteenth-Century Scotland’ in: Preece, Isobel Woods.
Our awin Scottis use: Music in the Scottish Church up to 1603. Studies in the Music of Scotland.
Glasgow: the Universities of Glasgow and Aberdeen, pp. 225–271, 258.
10
were not dissimilar in style, who divided the work up between themselves.6 Julian
Brown however claims a single scribe, and that the variations in handwriting were
caused instead by ‘differences in lateral compression governed by changes in the
relationship between text and notation’,7 i.e. that the areas where the handwriting
differs are due to the scribe needing to fit into an ever-changing amount of space
on the page, and not due to a change in writers.
A colophon asking that the scribe of this book, ‘Walterus’, may be blessed, appears
on folio 191v,8 however both Roesner and Brown claim this a 15th-century addition.
Why the person adding it wrote the music in neume forms that were more likely to
have been in common use before the manuscript’s creation rather than in the 15th
century is unknown. Also unclear is why they decided to call the scribe ‘Walter’,
when a ‘Jacob’ (‘Iacobo clerici’ above) has been mentioned earlier on the
manuscript. A look at the contemporary Bishop David Bernham’s group of skilled
scribes and administrators reveals a ‘Waltero de mortuomari’ amongst the witnesses
to charters around 1240–1248.9 This ‘Walter’ appears repeatedly in these
documents, was made an ‘Official with General Authority’ during 1240–1242 at St
Andrews,10 and apparently became Dean of Glasgow in 1250.11 This clearly capable
man may well have been the skilled scribe required to create W1, but until the
supposed 15th century dating of this colophon is refuted, we are left with no obvious
reason as to why ‘Walterus’ is mentioned except that our 15th century writer
potentially knew more of the inner workings of St Andrews’ earlier manuscript
creation processes than we do.
Whoever the scribe or scribes were, they were clearly trained in the notational style
of Notre-Dame polyphony (even the eleventh fascicle, which whilst being of differing
provenance from the rest of the manuscript and displaying more insular features still
shows Notre-Dame notational elements).12 Brown has suggested that the scribe ‘was
6 Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiii.
7 Brown, Patterson & Hiley, 1981, p. 55.
8 Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiii mistakenly claims this is on 192r.
9 Ash, Marinell (1976) ‘David Bernham, Bishop of St Andrews, 1239-1253’ in McRoberts, David. (ed.)
The Medieval Church of St Andrews. Glasgow: Scottish Catholic Historical Association, pp. 33–44, p.
43.
10 Watt, D. E. R. (1969) Fasti Ecclesiae Scoticanae Medii Aevi ad annum 1638. 2nd draft. St Andrews:
Fasti Committee, Department of Mediaeval History, St Salvator’s College, p. 323.
11 Ibid., p. 153. Mortuomari is interchangeable with Mortimer.
12 Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiv.
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a Scotsman or an Englishman who had learned to write as he did in Paris’.13 The
manuscript was likely copied in St. Andrews, and if not, was clearly intended for the
cathedral there; the inclusion of the clausula for St. Andrew ‘In odorem’ without an
organum into which it could be inserted is telling, with an apparent expectation for
its usage on its own at the recipient cathedral.14 ‘Vir perfecte’ and ‘Vir iste’ from
the 3rd fascicle are also linked to the patron saint of Scotland.15
Contents of the Manuscript16
197 folios, divided as follows (gatherings have been omitted, as they will not be
referred to in this work).
Fascicle 1: folios 3–6; containing quadrupla (discant and clausula), starting part way
through Viderunt omnes.
Fascicle 2: folios 9–16; tripla (discant) followed by three-part conductus.
Fascicle 3: folios 17–24; organa dupla for the Office, a two-part Sanctus trope added
onto the end.
Fascicle 4: folios 25–48; organa dupla for the Mass.
Fascicle 5: folios 49–54; two-part clausulae.
Fascicle 6: folios 55–62; two-part clausulae, with a two-part conductus added onto
the end.
Fascicle 7: folios 63–69 (68 is used twice); tripla
Fascicle 8: folios 70–94; three-part conductus, followed by a tripla, then another
three-part conductus, along with a three-part organum and clausula, finished with
added three-part Sanctus and Agnus dei tropes.
13 Brown, Patterson, & Hiley, 1981, p. 56.
14 Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiv.
15 Purser, John. (2007) Scotland’s Music: A History of the Traditional and Classical Music of
Scotland from Early Times to the Present Day. Edinburgh: Mainstream Publishing, p. 59.
16 Taken from Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiii, and Edwards, 2000, pp. 259–271.
12
Fascicle 9: folios 95–176; three- and two-part conductus, a small group of
Benedicamus domino settings, along with two-part Agnus dei tropes added in.
Fascicle 10: folios 185–192; monophonic conductus, and monophonic Sanctus and
Agnus dei tropes.
Fascicle 11: folios 193–214; two-part music for the Missa de sancta Maria.
In total, the manuscript now transmits three hundred and thirty-seven pieces
(including substitute clausulae) in a complete form; the theoretical reconstructions
of the missing folios provided by Warwick Edwards and Robert Falck,17 along with
the inclusion of the pieces only partially surviving, would increase the number of
pieces in W1 to three hundred and ninety-two.
The Dating and Creation of W1
Attributing W1 to a specific time period has been a consistently thorny issue since
the discovery of the manuscript by musicologists. Early attempts at dating had
suggested the 14th century as a possibility; this was primarily concluded by Ludwig’s
early examination of the manuscript18 which James H. Baxter reiterated,19 and
Roesner originally suggested a connection between W1 and ‘the liturgical
Renaissance at St. Andrews after 1314.’20 The paleographical and illuminate initial
analysis of Brown, Patterson, and Hiley, however, showed that W1 was in fact
contemporaneous with the music that it transmitted, not later.21 All three authors
shared a similar view with regards to W1’s dating: David Hiley suggested the first
half of the 13th century, claiming that W1 ‘best represents, in one source, the range
of sacred polyphony used in a major church’ at that time.22 Julian Brown similarly
dated the handwriting to ‘before rather than after 1250’, ‘probably written during
17 Edwards does not suggest a reconstruction for the no longer extant section of Fascicle 10, folios
177–184v. Falck, Robert. (1981) The Notre Dame Conductus: A Study of the Repertory. Henryville:
Institute of Mediaeval Music, pp. 123, gives a hypothetical reconstruction.
18 Edwards, 2000, p. 228.
19 Baxter, James H. (1931) An Old St. Andrews Music Book (Cod. Helmst. 628): Published in
Facsimile with an Introduction by J. H. Baxter. London: St Andrews University, pp. vii and xiii.
20 Everist, Mark. (1990) ‘From Paris to St. Andrews: The Origins of W1’. Journal of the American
Musicological Society. Vol. 43, No. 1, pp. 1–42, 3 fn 7.
21 Brown, Patterson & Hiley, 1981.
22 Ibid., p. 87.
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the second quarter of the 13th century.’23 Finally Sonia Patterson remarked that the
initial flourishing ‘is of the period c. 1240’, due to its ‘early transitional’ elements.24
The overall conclusion of the article was that the manuscript ‘coincides with the
episcopacy of David de Bernham, Bishop of St. Andrews 1240–52’.25
However, Mark Everist posits Guillaume Mauvoisin, the bishop of St Andrews between
1200 and 1238 as the likely force behind W1’s creation.26 Hailing from France, and
keeping ties with his homeland throughout his life, Mauvoisin is suggested to be a
more likely candidate than his successor David Bernham. However, this would mean
a date of creation for W1 of no later than the 1230s, which would contradict the
findings of Brown, Patterson, & Hiley. Everist’s attempt to disprove Patterson’s
dating of the flourished initials in W1 bases itself on the re-dating of the ‘David
Bernham Pontifical’ (Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale, Latin 1218; hereafter Lat. 1218),
to which Patterson compared W1’s initials. Everist suggests Patterson gives a
potential date of 1225 for Lat. 1218, but at no point does Patterson say this.27
Patterson is quite clear in dating W1 to around 1250 ‘or a little before’, putting it in
the mid-point of her ‘transitional’ period of which W1 occupies the early end, i.e.
the 1240s. Indeed, Everist's own quote by Patterson clearly indicates 'the last decade'
of 'the second quarter of the 13th century' for Lat. 1218.28
In his efforts to re-date Lat. 1218 to an earlier period, Everist notes that the main
text was written ‘above top line’, i.e. that the first line of text was written on top
of the first ruled line on a page, as a crucial point to it being circa 1230s or earlier;29
therefore the link in style between it and W1 would provide a similar date for W1.
Writing in such a method apparently underwent a critical change around 1230,
whereby professional scribes started to instead write ‘below top line’. However, this
sudden alteration in style cannot have been so comprehensive as to have altered all
professional writing throughout the British Isles in one fell swoop – we may well be
dealing with a hanger-on of the old style in the scribe of Lat. 1218, and the lack of
23 Ibid., p. 56.
24 Ibid., p. 60.
25 Ibid., 1981, p. 53. Bernham was actually bishop from 1239.
26 Everist. 1990.
27 Ibid., p. 5.
28 Ibid.
29 Ibid., pp. 6–7.
14
any similar pages containing only text prevents us from positively applying this
method of dating onto W1.
In addition, Everist also points to the dating of Latin 12036, a manuscript showing
similarities to Lat. 1218 in handwriting and illumination (also of the Bibliothèque
Nationale, hereafter Lat. 12036) as weight towards his dating for W1 of the 1230s.
However, at no point does he actually discuss Lat. 12036's date, only banding it, Lat.
1218, and W1 all altogether into the 1230s at the end of his discussion.30 The
evidence he gives to show Lat. 12036's possible use at St Andrews gives no clear-cut
reason as to why the 1240s could not also be considered.31
The Flourished Initials of W1
The manuscript Lat. 1218 that Everist and Rebecca A. Baltzer posit as a first quarter
13th-century manuscript32 and put forth as a major point of comparison to W1 was
likely created in a different workshop to W1’s33 and a small sampling of its initials
have shown less in the way of similarities with W1 than other insular manuscripts
discussed below. The examples Baltzer reproduces from both Lat. 1218 and Lat.
1203634 have little in the way of similarities between W1’s component parts and
their own. W1’s main decorational element is of singular lines feeding out from the
initial, looping up and down which occasionally form ‘snake heads’ with their
neighbours. Baltzer’s examples are instead more concerned with floral patterns that
then trail a single line downwards. Sonia Patterson’s example from Lat. 121835 does
at least contain the ‘snake heads’, but the lines they produce begin horizontally
then change to vertical (looking almost more like a small bird), whilst W1’s invariably
move the opposite way, creating a stylistic contrast that is hard to ignore.
30 Ibid., p. 13.
31 Ibid., pp. 8–13.
32 Ibid., pp. 5–7; Baltzer, Rebecca A. (2008) ‘The Manuscript Maker of W1: Further Evidence for an
Early Date’ in: Cannata, David Butler; Currie, Gabriela Ilnitchi; Mueller, Rena Charnin; & Nádas,
John Louis. Quomodo cantabimus canticum? Studies in Honor of Edward H. Roesner. Miscellanea 7.
Wisconsin: American Institute of Musicology, pp. 103–120, 108.
33 Brown, Patterson & Hiley, 1981, p. 61.
34 Baltzer, 2008, p. 106.
35 Brown, Patterson & Hiley, 1981, p. 66.
15
Baltzer claims that the illuminated initials of W1 show a likely dating of 1230,36 but
in her comparison of other insular sources from the British Isles with those of W1,
one finds that whilst the internal decorations are less complex, the external
components that extend away from the main body of the letter appear more
complex and intricate than the example given from Lat. 1218, and the majority of
the other 1st quarter 13th-century examples.37 The only manuscript examples that
gives similar complexities in their initial’s external elements are Worcester,
Cathedral Library, MS F.160 (ca. 1230s) and Paris, B.n.F., latin 7399, which is
actually dated to the 2nd quarter of the 13th century. Baltzer’s comparison against
French manuscripts shows a difference in style between the French and insular
sources that only strengthens the likelihood that the illumination of W1 occurred
within the British Isles.38
An exploration of a number of music manuscripts from the British Isles gives us a
more complicated view of illuminated initials to which either Patterson or Baltzer
admit. Whilst there is a noticeable trend towards greater complexity in both internal
and external elements in the second half of the century (see University of Oxford:
Worcester College, MS 213* [olim: MS 3.16 (A)*],39 folios 1v and 2v containing highly
decorated initial ‘A’s, and Bodleian Library, [pr. bk.] Wood 591,40 folio i-verso
containing a highly decorated ‘S’), not all later manuscripts contain such complexity
in their illuminated initials. Two late 13th century manuscripts contain examples of
external initial decoration that bear remarkable similarities to the level of
decoration in W1 (University of Cambridge: Jesus College, MS QB1, folio 1b’s initial
with no music ,41 and St John’s College, MS 138 (F.1),42 folio 128’s bottom half
36 Baltzer, 2008, p. 107.
37 Compare Baltzer, 2008, pp. 106 and 108.
38 Ibid., p. 109.
39 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Owc MS 213*. [Online] Available at:
parent volume contains an index that ends at the year 1281; likely originated from Reading Abbey.
40 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Ob [pr. bk.] Wood 591. [Online] Available
The presence of rondelli embedded in the English works dates the manuscript to the second half of
the 13th century.
41 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Cjec MS QB1. [Online] Available at:
music in English mensural notation clearly dates this to the later 13th century.
42 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Cjc MS 138 (F.1). [Online] Available at:
notation is English mensural, dating the manuscript to the later 13th century.
16
containing an ‘O’ and a ‘P’ in quick succession), along with the ‘Worcester
Fragments’ of ca. 1300 which show similarities with both the internal and external
elements of W1’s initials (University of Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS. Lat. liturg. d.
20,43 folios 12’s ‘A’ and folio 14v’s ‘A’ and ‘P’ on top of each other). These
similarities, this author suggests, do not put doubts on W1’s provenance or suggest
a re-dating of that manuscript is in order, but show the unstable conclusions one can
easily come to with a small selection of manuscript examples. Had this author merely
compared W1 to those manuscripts just listed above, they would have been forced
into a dating conclusion of the late 13th century for W1, even though the music it
contains is far earlier.
In the manuscripts displaying similarities to W1’s initials, one finds a range of dates
– not only of the late 13th century and turn of the 14th century as shown above, but
earlier in the 13th century as well. The mid-13th-century fragment from Lambeth
Palace Library (MS 752)44 shows noticeable similarities in the two initials that
survive, and also transmits music contained within W1 (as does MS QB1, above). We
find similar styling in the initials of MS. Bodl. 79 (University of Oxford, Bodleian
Library, folios 53v and 56 ‘O’ and ‘F’ respectively)45 as well, and though the only
dating given for the manuscript is ‘13th century’, this author would suggest that a
date contemporary to that of W1 would be appropriate due to the similar level of
decoration found with its illuminations. The last manuscript we shall note in
comparison to W1 is British Library, Add. MS 30091.46 This manuscript, out of all the
ones given above, is perhaps the most similar to W1 in terms of both internal and
external decoration for the initials. External ‘snake-heads’ appearing in the lines
feeding out from the initial are common throughout this manuscript (see folios 1 ‘O’
43 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Ob MS. Lat. liturg. d. 20. [Online]
25. 2016]. Includes English mensural notation, which would date the manuscript to at least the 13th
century. DIAMM seem to be certain of ca. 1300, and claim their information supersedes that of the
RISM.
44 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Llp MS 752. [Online] Available at:
book these fragments were binding appears to be 13th century; the musical notation is only in the
Notre-Dame style, suggesting the period before the rise of English mensural notation.
45 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Ob MS. Bodl. 79. [Online] Available at:
46 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music. (unknown) GB-Lbl Add. MS 30091. [Online] Available at:
Transmits motets from the second half of the 13th century.
17
and 6v ‘b’), with truncated tongues sticking out to the side. Snake-heads whose tails
create the lines of the decoration are a common features throughout W1 (for
example, folios 88 and 174) and are also found in MS. Bodl. 79. Whilst the obvious
snake-heads in Add. MS 30091 are horizontal, a stylised version of the vertical ones
found in W1 occur as well where the snake-heads are more circular and are not
separated from the rest of the line as they are in W1, where one line finishes with
the head whilst another starts from the tongue. Such a stylised feature can be found
in W1, for example on the verso of folio iii, starting off from the last of the blue ink
of the initial itself and replete with circular eye. The number of lines used in the
decorations of both W1 and Add. MS 30091 are the same, and the general flow of
them is similar as well.
The dating for Add. MS 30091 is for the second half of the 13th century (which may
explain the deviation in the snake-heads), and whilst it does not have the
geographical link that Lat. 1218 or Lat. 12036 have to St Andrews, and transmits
music of a differing style both content-wise and notationally, the similarities
between its initials and W1’s cannot be ignored. If nothing else, its dating to the
second half of the 13th century shows that such initialling styles were being carried
on further into the century than Baltzer would have us believe, however the
remarkable similarities between W1, Add. MS 30091, and MS. Bodl. 79 could suggest
an initialling school or at least similarities in training between these initialers, whose
practices clearly carried on into the latter half of the 13th century.
Even if such theories prove fruitless, the above comparisons and dates show that
specific decades do not necessarily dictate how manuscripts’ initials look. Later
manuscripts have been shown to be both more and less complex in terms of initial
decoration than W1, whilst relatively contemporary and slightly later sources have
given similar stylings. To base the dating of a manuscript on illuminated initials is
clearly fraught with danger.
On the lack of Motets
Mark Everist fairly points out that by the time David Bernham visited Paris as Bishop
of St. Andrews, the motet would have been a highly prominent feature of the music
18
occurring there by that time, so the lack of motets in W1 seems a strange
discrepancy.47 However, one could speculate whether these new-fangled motets
would have been well-received. As has so often been pointed out, Scotland is on the
periphery of Notre-Dame’s reach, so such new works may have been felt by Bernham
to be unsuitable for the cathedral at St Andrews. It may also have been that whoever
was creating W1 did not have access to these motets; perhaps they were not in the
exemplars, perhaps they were lost, or perhaps they were jealously guarded by
Notre-Dame’s clerici at this time. One should note that W1 does transmit truncated
motets, with their Tenors removed, so that they appear as conductus (see page 46).
Whether this is a sign of conductus being morphed into motets, or motets being
altered to fit the conductus form is unknown, but should it be the latter, this might
give a clue as to why Bernham did not have motets in W1. The alteration would
suggest either a dislike of them, or an unwillingness to bring them to St Andrews,
perhaps for fear that the new style might be received poorly.
Of course, having the newest Parisian music would have exhibited prestige, but W1,
out of all the major Notre-Dame sources, seems less like a status symbol or show of
power and more a book that was actually used, and had always been intended for
use. The multiple marginalia and lower-quality parchment in comparison with F48 or
W249 show a book that was created with usage in mind and was used regularly.
Everist suggests that W1 may have been ‘for use in the chapel of the Bishop’s
Palace/Castle or part of the episcopal capella’ instead of for use in the cathedral,50
but Roesner refutes this as unlikely, due to these institutions lacking the resources
or the ceremonies for this manuscript.51 A usage within the cathedral of St Andrews
seems most likely, unless strong evidence is revealed to disprove such a link.
47 Everist, 1990, p. 16.
48 The ‘Florence’ manuscript, likely 1240s. Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana. (1966-67) Faksimile-
Ausgabe der Handschrift, Facsimile reproduction of the manuscript Firenze, Biblioteca Mediceo-
Laurenziana, Pluteo 29, 1. 2 volumes. New York: Institute of Mediaeval Music.
49 Herzog August Bibliothek. (ca. 1275) Guelf.1099 Helmst. [Online] Available at:
50 Ibid., p. 31.
51 Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiv.
19
The Mauvoisin and W1 Dating discrepancy
Everist’s push for a dating of the 1230s for W1’s creation would mean that Mauvoisin
had been in power for thirty years before the production of the manuscript.52 This
seems strange in the light of Mauvoisin having likely collected the exemplars for W1
during his 1200 trip to Paris, an idea that Everist appears keen on as he stresses the
potential contact between Mauvoisin and both Leonin and Perotin53 (the two main
composers of Notre-Dame polyphony that we know of) and the effect that hearing
their music had on both Mauvoisin and his familia. The likelihood is pushed that
Mauvoisin or one of his familia obtained the exemplars of W1, Everist noting that
it must have been possible to obtain so-called “Notre-Dame” polyphony in
quires more or less off-the-peg from suppliers in Paris, and it is quite feasible
that it was an assortment of such quires that was carried from Paris to St.
Andrews and then copied there to form the nucleus of W154
Such an early obtainment of those quires that would later form the nucleus of W1’s
repertory invites the question as to what Mauvoisin did with them in the intervening
years between the 1200 trip and the 1230s date of creation that Everist posits, and
also why the creation of W1 took so long to begin. A speculative reading of this gap
is that it took a differing bureaucratic regime in St Andrews to result in the creation
of W1 – evidently the first twenty years of Mauvoisin’s regime did not entail the
creation of W1, so why would the last ten or so?
The present author, in the face of the varying issues surrounding this debate, offers
an alternative reading of the Mauvoisin or Bernham debate. The theory and
chronology presented below postulates the notion that Mauvoisin obtained the
exemplars for W1 early in his pontificate but that it was only in the time of Bernham
that W1 was created from those exemplars.
It is certain that Mauvoisin could not have obtained the entire repertory of W1 during
his likely time in Paris during the year 1200, as ‘O felix bituria’ found in the eighth
fascicle (folios 88–90), could not have been composed before 1209 due to it being
52 Purser, 2007, p. 60, notes this discrepancy.
53 Everist, 1990, p. 26.
54 Ibid., p. 28.
20
for the death of Guillaume, the Archbishop of Bourges.55 However, this does not rule
out an earlier obtainment of the rest of music in W1, or at least some parts of it;
this would account for the relatively early polyphony of Notre-Dame that is
transmitted throughout W1. The quires containing later pieces could have been
obtained at a later date. Mauvoisin could have acquired these, as he kept contacts
in France until the mid-to-late 1220s and did visit France either in 1212 or 1215.56
This could have also been achieved by Bernham, either by himself during his own
visits of 1240–1 and 1245–6,57 or perhaps sent to him by his nephew who studied in
Paris and therefore could have stayed abreast of the changing musical landscape.58
Bernham was also one of Mauvoisin’s familia,59 so potentially accompanied him on
one or more of his trips to France.60 Should Bernham have wanted to collect more
quires at a later date, he may well have known the people and places to go to in
order to achieve this. He may have even brought the scribe or scribes along so that
they might learn from the masters in Paris, as the insular works contained in W1 do
show a great deal of working knowledge with the Notre-Dame style; but this is pure
conjecture unless we conclusively determine a scribe or scribes, and the composition
of Bernham’s familia that travelled with him. The author notes that this potentially
contradicts the above supposition that Walter Mortuomari was the scribe of W1, due
to his installation as Official whilst Bernham was away in the early 1240s — however,
he is not listed as the Official for Bernham’s later trip, and the theory that Bernham
brought his scribes on these trips is purely conjectural. It might be that Bernham
left his most skilled musician at St Andrews in his stead, in order to keep the musical
elements of the services running smoothly whilst the bishop was away. As Bernham
himself was likely to have been a capable musician61 who may well have been a
55 Falck, 1981, p. 223.
56 Everist, 1990, p. 20.
57 Iibd., pp. 14-15. Ash, 1976, p. 43 suggests longer dates for these trips: 1240–2, and 1245–8, but
Everist’s evidence refutes these, pointing to the dedication of a church by Bernham in 1246, and his
presence in Durham during June 1241. Why, then, we find ‘Officials with General Authority’ (i.e.
those covering the bishop’s role while he was away) during the periods of 1240–1242, and 1245–
1248, is unknown (dates from Watt, 1969, p. 323). We require a fuller picture of Bernham’s actions
after these one-off events to ascertain whether he did return to St Andrews straight after them;
not all of his travels to France may have been recorded.
58 Purser, 2007, p. 60.
59 Ibid.
60 Everist, 1990, p. 27, notes that no evidence is clear on who accompanied Mauvoisin on his
travels.
61 Purser, 2007, p. 60.
21
strong driving force for the music in St Andrews, he might not have wanted to remove
two skilled musicians from the cathedral. Any reading of a later quires acquisition
by either bishop must contend with the issue of the lack of motets, which were
already in circulation by the 1210s.62
These quires are clearly the exemplars from which Rebecca A. Baltzer has claimed
that W1 was copied from. Baltzer believes that due to these exemplar’s rhythmical
uncertainties W1’s notators struggled to update their notation consistently when
transferring the music over.63 If this struggle was the case, then how could one have
bought Notre-Dame polyphony pretty much straight from the source, and it not
contain the most up-to-date notation? A reading of Mauvoisin obtaining the early
quires in 1200, these being used by the musicians in St Andrews and only later being
codified into W1, would account for this disparity. By the time of Bernham’s rule
the original quires would have been around thirty years old, and as will be noted
later, the first half of the thirteenth century was a fast-paced one in terms of
notational and musical growth and evolution. Rhythmical signs were becoming more
codified, although full-on systemisation appears to have only occurred by Johannes
de Garlandia in the 1250s. Still, this period of quire usage between Mauvoisin and
Bernham would account for Baltzer’s remarks that the notators of W1 were having
to update the notation on-the-go as it were in an attempt to keep things modern
and understandable for the current musicians. If the majority of the exemplars that
they were working from dated from Mauvoisin’s time in France around 1200, then
their notation may well have differed in comparison to the notators of the 1240s. It
is notable that even in ‘O felix bituria’ the clef and accidental issues Baltzer
describes as a sign of earlier notation in the exemplars occur. At folio 88 the very
beginning notes have clearly been entered in before the clef and key signature,
resulting in the B-flat sign occurring above or below the first note. At folio 90 in the
1st line of the Duplum a clef move has not been left enough space, and on the second
line of this folio, the second line’s continuation of the cauda gives no clear vertical
alignment by the end.
62 Sanders, Ernest H. (2009) ‘The Question of Perotin’s Oeuvre and Dates’ in: Roesner, Edward H.
(ed.) Ars antiqua: Organum, Conductus, Motet. Music in Medieval Europe. England, Ashgate, pp.
413–421, 420.
63 Baltzer, 2008, p. 116.
22
Clearly, then, the notators of W1 had issue with translating the older notational style
of the exemplars into the more recent style that they were accustomed to. The gap
presented between Mauvoisin’s believed Paris trip of 1200 to Bernham’s episcopate
in the 1240s would account for this issue. Bernham’s notable push throughout his
rule for ‘order and efficiency... [and] the better ordering of Christian life and
practice’64 could well have been the driving force behind collecting the music
contained in the quires obtained by Mauvoisin into one complete manuscript. This
would have preserved the music contained within the loose quires, which may have
been become worn out from use (or at least, the creation of W1 may have lessened
the chance of losing the music in physical form should those quires have become
unusable).65
At the present time there has been no more decisive information added to this
subject either way, and illuminated initial dating has been shown to be less than
reliable. A dating of the 1230s and 1240s for W1’s creation is all that can be
positively deduced from present scholarship.
W1’s More Recent Travels
If W1’s history in Scotland is partially obscured by the mists of time, its later
movements throughout Europe are thankfully relatively clearer. W1 was definitely
in the possession of the controversial Protestant theologian Flacius Illyricus by 1552,
as he published texts from it in his pia quaedam vetustissimamque poemata in that
year.66 How this managed to find its way into his collection is unknown – James H.
Baxter’s account that Illyricus’ agent Marcus Wagner retrieved it during his visit to
Scotland in 155367 is clearly no longer valid in light of Illyricus’ use of W1 texts in
1552. However it managed to find its way into the hands of Illyricus it remained in
his possession until his death in 1575, and his collection was then sold by his widow
to Duke Heinrich Julius von Braunschweig of Wolfenbüttel in 1597. This collection
64 Ash, 1976, p. 41.
65 The report of Marcus Wagner in the 16th century that the books of the library were ‘ill cared for’
may explain the lack of these exemplar quires in our modern era. It may also account for the
missing folios in W1. See Baxter, 1931, p. x.
66 Roesner, 1993, p. lxxiv.
67 Baxter, 1931, p. x.
23
was then presented to his recently founded University of Helmstedt, possibly in
1618, where W1 remained until the dissolution of the university and its library in
1810. The collection then returned to the ducal library at Wolfenbüttel in 1817 and
is now stored at the Herzog August Bibliothek in Wolfenbüttel; 68 it is this place of
residence that has given it the moniker of ‘W1’.
68 Ibid., p. xi; Staehelin, Martin. (1995) Die mittelalterliche Musik-Handschrift W1: vollständige
Reproduktion des "Notre Dame"-Manuskripts der Herzog August Bibliothek Wolfenbüttel Cod.
Guelf. 628 Helmst / mit einem Vorwort (deutsch und englisch) herausgegeben von
Martin Staehelin. Wolfenbütteler Mittelalter-Studien 9. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag, p. 46.
24
25
Chapter 2: On the Position of the Conductus in the Notre-Dame Repertoire and the
Church
The repertory of the Notre-Dame conductus numbers several hundred works,69 in
both single-part form (i.e. monophonic) and in two-, three-, or even four-part
forms (i.e. polyphonic). The conductus enjoyed favour from around 1160 until
about 1240. The later ‘W2’ manuscript (ca. 1275) shows the decline in favour that
the conductus encountered in the face of the motet’s rising popularity; W2
transmits over two hundred motets, but only twenty-nine conductus.70 Despite the
earlier popularity of the conductus, no contemporary definition gives much in the
way of information regarding how they were used. The definitions we do have ‘are
often vague, incomplete, or largely irrelevant’71 and give little in the way of
information on how a service actually happened, and where the music fitted into
it. The majority of the treatises dealing with music in some way are mostly
concerned with the technical aspects such as consonant intervals and rhythmic
information. However, the repeated references to the conductus within the
theoretical writings, and the large collections of them contained in both W1 and F,
show that it was one of the major styles of Notre-Dame polyphony.
Definitions of the Term ‘Conductus’
The term ‘conductus’ is one that theorists have been struggling with since
musicology took an interest in this repertoire, and one that many have been
unwilling to conclusively define. In two of the major modern editions of this
repertoire, Janet Knapp’s Thirty-Five Conductus and Gordon Anderson’s Notre-
Dame and Related Conductus, neither editor gives a definition of the term at all,
and neither does Jann Cosart’s more recent work on the monophonic conductus of
69 Falck, 1981, pp. ii & 390, claims around three hundred and ninety.
70 Knapp, Janett. (unknown) ‘Conductus’. Grove Music Online. [Online] Available at:
[September 26, 2016]
71 Gillingham, Bryan. (1991) ‘A New Etiology and Etymology for the Conductus’. The Musical
Quarterly. Vol. 75, No. 1, pp. 59–73, 59.
26
W1.72 It is unhelpful that relatively few pieces that we classify as conductus
actually have that label attached to them in the manuscript sources, 73 making
definition via easily deduced rulesets difficult, but this is an issue that the modern
reader must deal with when approaching these sources in general. The medieval
writers were not thinking of the current-day observer’s requirements for guidance
when they created these manuscripts. In general, it is noticeable that large scale
repositories of Notre-Dame music are collected together in stylistic terms. The
eighth fascicle of W1, where the later transcriptions found in this work come from,
is primarily based around the repertoire of three-part conductus, with occasional
other three-part works added onto the end as they fitted the three-part staves
already ruled out on the folios.
Clearly then the conductus, whatever it may be, was a clearly defined genre for
Notre-Dame composers and scribes. This is also made evident by the remarks made
by medieval theorists, who mention it alongside other Notre-Dame styles such as
organum. What is unclear, however, is the role the conductus played in the
churches of the time. Collected alongside the liturgical music required for
services, their place in the manuscripts would suggest a liturgical usage of some
fashion. However, some modern writers, noting that the conductus are often based
on Latin poetry, have affixed to them the term ‘para-liturgical’.
The term para-liturgical is a controversial one however, conjuring notions that
they were not part of the accepted repertory of church life. The placement of
conductus in the manuscripts alongside liturgical pieces, along with those
conductus containing texts based on biblical quotes and paraphrases, shows that
such a term is not really applicable. Barbara Haggh has noted the rise in usage of
this term, and was quick to point out that such pieces, although without a clearly
defined role in the church service, were still part of services, and were occurring
‘for the common welfare of the people’.74 Therefore they played a liturgical role
in terms of general prayer. The use of ‘liturgy’ as meaning just the ritual of the
Church is a modern usage, and ignores the blurred area of public and private
72 Cosart, Jann. (ed.) Monophonic Tropes and Conductus of W1. Wisconsin: A-R Editions.
73 Falck, 1981, p. 4, complains about this.
74 Haggh, Barbara (1992) ‘The meeting of sacred ritual and secular piety: endowments for music’ in
Knighton, Tess & Fallows, David (eds.) Companion to Medieval & Renaissance Music. London: J. M.
Dent & Sons, pp. 60–68, 61.
27
religion that was common to the medieval period and only gained definition in the
Renaissance.75 Indeed, nearly twenty percent of the conductus repertory are
admonitio, moralising poems directed not just at the public, but also the clergy,
often utilising biblical allegory in condemning certain practices or behaviours.76
Though they are unclear liturgically, their clear moral element aimed at bettering
the welfare of the people can hardly be termed para-liturgical in the face of
Haggh’s argument above.
The lack of distinction between secular and sacred in the medieval period is also
shown in the melodies used in the composition of a conductus. It has long been
noted that, often in the Tenor, the tune has in fact been borrowed, either from
earlier chants or from the songs of the French Trouvères or Provençal
troubadours.77 Strangely, the later 13th century medieval theorists were either
unaware of the borrowing that took place in the conductus, or disapproved of it,
and therefore claimed that it was newly-composed. Franco of Cologne (ca. 1280)
remarks that both the Tenor and the polyphony above it should be newly composed
for a conductus.78 No other 13th century theorist mentions the compositional
elements of the conductus aside from those that paraphrase from Franco’s Ars
cantus mensurabilis,79 and the clear borrowing that occurred between the
‘secular’ and ‘sacred’ musics at this time disprove Franco’s remark.
The Source of the Term ‘Conductus’
The term conductus is commonly accepted as deriving from the verb conducere;80
however, due to preconceived notions of what the role of the conductus was in
church, the translations of this verb have been drawn towards the notions of
movement – to guide, lead, escort, and so on, in an attempt to support the notion
75 Ibid.
76 Falck, 1981, p. 8.
77 Husmann, Heinrich. (1962) Medieval Polyphony. Anthology of Music. Cologne: Arno Volk Verlag,
p. 9.
78 Reaney, Gilbert and Gilles, André. (1974) Franconis de Colonia: Ars Cantus Mensurabilis. United
States of America: American Institute of Musicology, pp.69, 73–74.
79 Sanders, Ernest H. (1985) ‘Conductus and Modal Rhythm’. Journal of the American Musicological
Society. Vol. 38, No. 3, pp. 439–469, 446.
80 Gillingham, 1991, p. 61.
28
that the conductus was to accompany a procession.81 However, the majority of
times that the term conductus is specifically linked to movement are found in
liturgical dramas,82 with only very early 12th century sources for the conductus
being linked to the manoeuvrings of clergy for readings.83 A review of the writings
by 12th and 13th century theorists reveals no obvious link to movement when the
conductus is mentioned; indeed, no mention is made at all as to when the
conductus occurred, only how it was performed and what it looked like on the
page. The persistent idea of movement being linked to the conductus is likely due
to Leonard Ellinwood’s article ‘The “Conductus”’, in which he defined the
conductus as
a Latin metrical poem set to music in from one to four parts during the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, used for festive or processional purposes
both within and without the church.84
Ellinwood claims that this processional usage later diminished, and they became
more generally used, but kept the categorical term. He also notes that the later
complex caudae found in some conductus are a clear sign of this move away from
processional accompaniment to accepted liturgical style without notions of
movement involved.85
Bryan Gillingham posits another theory for the source of the term conductus,
claiming that instead of the term coming from the notion of a procession, it in fact
meant a ‘contraction’ or ‘joining together’ of both styles and singers.86 Gillingham
points to the hybridisation of sequences and hymns for the creation of the
conductus (the seeds of its creation being based in St. Martial de Limoges during
the 12th century, and only later being transmitted further north to Notre-Dame).87
81 Ibid.
82 Ibid., p. 60.
83 Knapp, unknown. Knapp quotes the conclusion from a conductus from Madrid, Biblioteca
Nacional, MS 289, which contains ‘an exhortation to the congregation to prepare itself for the
reading of the scriptures’. Knapp presumes that this means the lectionary was being carried into
place whilst the conductus was being sung.
84 Ellinwood, Leonard. (1941) ‘The “Conductus”’. The Musical Quarterly. Vol. 27, No. 2, pp. 165–
204, 165.
85 Ibid., pp. 168, 180. i.e. that it would have become impossible to walk accompanied by such
complex soloistic music.
86 Gillingham, 1991, pp. 63, 68.
87 Ibid., p. 63. Randel, Michael. (1986) The New Harvard Dictionary of Music. Massachusetts: The
Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, p. 194 agrees with the general idea that the conductus
29
He finds evidence for a period of experimentation with sequences and hymns,
where the two were joined together.88 This resulted in the removal of the
repetitive elements of the sequence, which had required singers to alternate
singing between themselves, instead creating a ‘joined together’ style with a
unified group of singers.89 Gillingham points out that this is a far more likely
approach to the term conductus and its verb conducere; instead of the tenuous
connotations linked to processionals, the primary meaning of the verb as being
brought together makes more sense in this context.90
Gilllingham’s article, however, does not answer the question of what the role of
the conductus actually was in a service. By deconstructing the notion of its use as
a processional, we are left with no obvious point in the service for the conductus
to occur. Certainly, by the Notre-Dame period, any original meaning behind the
term (whether from processional usage or its stylistic hybrid creation) was no
longer of importance. The lack of any instruction of the 13th century usage of the
conductus leaves us in a conundrum, but their inclusion alongside the rest of the
repertoire of Notre-Dame music clearly indicates they were used in the same
services.
The Usage of Conductus
One clear usage for the conductus is for the feasts of the church year, as much of
the repertoire seems designed for this.91 After works for Christmas and Easter,
W1’s next largest repertory for a singular event is for the Assumption of St Mary,
which occurs on the 15th of August. This repertory is almost as sizeable as the
repertories for Christmas and Easter, indicating that this was one of the major
events of the church calendar at St Andrews cathedral. 92 The inclusion in W1 of a
number of conductus honouring the Virgin Mary in some way (such as ‘Serena
virginum’ – folios xiii to xv, or ‘Ave maris stella’, folios 70 to 71) would seem to
of Notre-Dame had its roots in the more southern tradition, even though no concordances exist
between the two era’s repertoires.
88 Gillingham, 1991, p. 64.
89 Ibid., p. 68.
90 Ibid., p. 68–69.
91 Randel, 1986, p. 194.
92 See Edwards, 2000, pp. 259–271, whose table helpfully lists the feast a piece was designed for.
30
support this theory that a selection of the conductus repertoire was designed for
celebrating church feast days.
However, as noted earlier, another noticeable portion of the repertoire are
admonitio, moralising texts that were aimed at both congregation and clergy,
mostly decrying the vices of simony and sloth.93 Others still remark on
contemporary events – conductus lamenting the death of persons of note, such as
Thomas Becket of Canterbury, have an obvious role in the anniversaries of their
deaths, and for those later canonised as saints, perhaps the anniversary of that
occasion as well. But those conductus serving a more political role, such as the
above admonitio type, have a less clear purpose in terms of usage in the church
service.
Whether as feast-day celebration, as exhortation to the congregation or clergy to
do better and live their lives according to the teachings of the bible, or any other
usage, the conductus clearly had an important role in the musical life of Notre-
Dame and those centres influenced by its music. However, the question of what its
specific role was in the service of the church may never be answered.
All we can say for sure regarding the conductus is:
• That its texts are consistently in Latin (commonly with a rhyming scheme of
some form) and concerned with moral dilemmas including current politics,
sometimes utilising paraphrases of the bible in order to strengthen their
arguments.
• They were transmitted both with and without complex soloistic caudae,
allowing for easy dissemination to a wider body of singers.
• It was clearly a popular genre in the late 12th and early 13th centuries,
having garnered a large repertoire over a less than a hundred years before
being replaced with the motet.
• They appear to have been one of the most effective ways in which members
of the church could critique current events, moralise the populace and
clergy, and, of course, praise God.
93 Randel, 1986, p. 194.
31
Chapter 3: The Rhythmic World of W1
Any transcription of music from the Notre-Dame school of polyphony must contend
with the issue of rhythm, specifically the application of ‘modal rhythm’ to the
musical notation. Whilst some believe that the conductus should be fully modally
interpreted (Gordon Anderson,94 William Waite,95 Heinrich Husmann,96 and Hans
Tischler97 are several notable persons from this camp) there are others that call for
a more nuanced approach rather than a blanket application (such as Edward
Roesner,98 Jacques Handschin,99 and Ernest Sanders100).
Modal Rhythm
Whilst there is not enough space to give a full explanation of modal rhythm here, a
certain amount of understanding of its rules is required here in order to make sense
of the rhythmic arguments presented below. Modal rhythm is based on two note
values, one long and one short, named longa and brevis respectively. These are
organised into six distinct ‘modes’, the first of which gives the pattern Long-Short-
Long-Short, commonly transcribed in modern notation as:
94 See: Anderson, Gordon. (1986) Notre-Dame and Related Conductus. Part 1: Four- and Three-Part
Conductus in the Central Sources. Henryville: Institute of Mediaeval Music.
95 See: Waite, William. (1954) The Rhythm of Twelfth-Century Polyphony: Its Theory and Practice.
Yale Studies in the History of Music; Volume 2. New Haven: Yale University Press
96 See: Husmann, Heinrich. (1952) "Zur Rhythmik des Trouveregesanges". Die Musikforschung. V, p.
111 : "Die modale Rhythmik beherrscht . .. die Komposi- tionsgattungen des Organums, der Motette
und des mittellateinischen Liedes." ("Modal rhythm governs ... the compositional genres of
organum, motet, and medieval Latin song."), with a footnote stating that "Lied soll also
gleichbedeutend mit Konduktus sein." ("Song is meant to be equivalent to conductus."), quoted
from Sanders, 1985, p.442 fn 16.
97 See: Tischler, Hans. (1980) "Versmass und musikalischer Rhythmus in Notre-Dame-Conductus".
Archiv fir Musikwissenschaft. XXXVII, p 303: "Conductus miissen innerhalb des Systems der
rhythmischen Modi fibertragen werden." ("Conductus must be transcribed within the system of the
rhythmic modes.") quoted from Sanders, 1985, p.442 fn 16.
98 See: Roesner, Edward H. (1990) “The Emergence of Musica mensurabilis” in: Wolf, Eugene K. and
Roesner, Edward H. Studies in Musical Sources and Style: Essays in Honor of Jan LaRue. Wisconsin:
A-R Editions, pp. 41–74.
99 See remarks for considering chronology of conductus repertoire, pp. 107-113: Handschin,
Jacques. (1952) “Conductus-Spicilegien”. Archiv fur Musikwissenschaft. IX, H. 2, pp. 101-119.
100 See: Sanders, 1985.
32
Ex. 1
etc.
Such a pattern would repeat until the end of a section (marked by a vertical dash,
termed by some as a ‘Silbenstrich’ – see page 55) where it finishes on a longa. This
first mode is held to be the earliest of all the modes, and is by far the most commonly
used rhythmic pattern throughout the Notre-Dame repertoire. The modal rhythmic
patterns were only definably codified in the latter half of the 13th century, first by
Johannes de Garlandia (ca. 1250), and later by Franco of Cologne (ca. 1280)101 and
Anonymous IV (ca. 1275-80).
Willi Apel labels the Discantus positio vulgaris102 (written by an anonymous writer,
and contained in Hieronymus (or Jerome) of Moravia’s Tractatus de Musica) as one
of these sources,103 but modal rhythm is never specifically mentioned alongside
conductus in either the older section of the treatise (ca. 1225) 104 or the slightly
more recent section (ca. 1270s). 105 Its opening contents are a list of the consonant
vertical intervals, and an explanation of the notions of longa and brevis, though it
then proceeds to claim that a ternary long (i.e., a longa of three beats instead of
two) is ‘unmeasurable’.106 How one is then supposed to practice the third, fourth,
and fifth modes, all of which contain such a note (see Example 2’s modern
transcription below), in a rhythmically accurate way, appears to be beyond the
anonymous writer at this stage.
101 Reaney and Gilles, 1974, pp. 10–11.
102 Apel, Willi. (1961) The Notation of Polyphonic Music 900-1600. Fifth Edition. Massachussetts:
The Mediaeval Academy of America, p. 220.
103 Ibid., p. 220.
104 Ibid., p. 201.
105 Sanders, 1985, p. 444.
106 Hammond, Frederick and Roesner, Edward H. (unknown) Hieronymus de Moravia. [Online]
Available from:
[September 6, 2016]
33
Ex. 2
etc.
Evidently this part of the treatise was written in the developing era of modal rhythm,
a period that can be roughly labelled as ‘pre-Garlandia’, i.e. the first half of the 13th
century before Johannes de Garlandia’s codification of the modal system. Fractio
and extensio modi, the breaking down or lengthening of some notes within the
rhythmic patterns (including ternary longs), was clearly at that point still a new
phenomenon only recently starting to occur. Only later does an ‘elementary’
explanation of the fundamental basics of modal rhythmic patterns occur, right after
a mention of the conductus that Sanders labels as part of the more recent (ca. 1270s)
section.107 This explanation is suspected to not actually be the work of the
anonymous writer of the Discantus positio vulgaris, but in fact an insertion by
Hieronymus de Moravia during the compilation of the Tractatus,108 which would
explain the surprising listing of modes that the earlier section implies are
‘unmeasurable’.109
As we can see in Example 1, the first mode gives weight to every odd-numbered note
in a rhythmic section, or ‘ordo’. The first mode was, as its name suggests, the first
to occur and be codified by musical thinkers at the time. Edward Roesner110 suggests
107 Sanders, 1985, p. 444.
108 Reckow, Fritz. (1967) ‘Proprietas und perfectio. Zur Geschichte des Rhythmus, seiner
Aufzeichnung und Terminologie im 13. Jahrhundert’. Acta Musicologica. Vol. 39, Fasc. 3/4, pp. 115–
143, 137 fn 81.
109 This distinction between the two sections of Discantus positio vulgaris appears to occur around
two-thirds of the way through the treatise – p. 193 in Cserba, Simon M. (1935) Hieronymus de
Moravia O. P. Tractatus de Musica. Freiburger Studien zur Musikwissenschaft. 2. Reihe der
Veröffentlichungen des Musikwissenschaftlichen Instituts der Universität Freiburg. Regensburg:
Verlag Friedrich Pustet.
110 Roesner, 1990.
34
that this came into being as a development of a more rhythmically free method of
performance, where singers were aware of each other’s lines and naturally gave
more weight to consonant ‘anchor’ points whilst moving quicker over the dissonant
areas in between these anchors.
As he says,
In early sine littera discant, cantus and duplum move in an essentially note-
against-note relationship, and for the most part in consonance. … One aspect
of this approach to composition is the cultivation of tonal coherence, with
the duplum oriented around, and moving toward, well-defined anchor
points… The tonal and dynamic quality of the duplum encouraged, among
other things, a fair amount of additional melodic activity beyond that
resulting from its note-against-note relationship with the tenor.111
These anchor points are the odd-numbered notes of a first mode ordo, as
The duplum note falling on the tenor-duplum simultaneity is consonant,
stable, and possessed of melodic and structural “weight”; material falling
between simultaneities is more subsidiary, “passing,” and less “weighty.” The
stable duplum notes were perceived as “inherently long,” the “passing” ones
as “inherently short.” … [They] have those qualities more owing to melodic
and harmonic factors, and in part to the stress that results from them, than
from their duration as such. And there is nothing here to imply a tendency
towards any particular kind of rhythmic organization… internal temporal
organization was largely a function of performance, dependent on melodic
content, tempo, and so on. At some point, however, the nature of this duplum
flow was conceptualized, articulated, and described in verbal terms, like so
much else at the time.112
This period of conceptualisation occurred around the start of the second quarter of
the 13th century, and was a period of systemisation and increased interest in
literature on many various subjects.113 Indeed, the systemisation of music had
already begun two centuries earlier, with the actions of Guido of Arezzo creating
111 Ibid., p. 45.
112 Ibid., pp. 46–7, emphasis added.
113 Ibid., p. 45, fn 7.
35
the beginnings of staff notation,114 but it was the universities in Paris centred around
the cathedral of Notre-Dame that started systematising and codifying rhythmic
information in treatises. Indeed, one of the main theoretical treatises upon which
we base our understanding of modal rhythm upon, the writings of ‘Anonymous IV’,
potentially appear to be lecture notes from their studies in Paris.115
This codification, of course, could hardly stop musicians from altering things in
performance as and how they wished. The culture surrounding this music was one
still of orality,116 and every performer had the freedom to interpret a piece
differently, either due to artistic licence or due to their memorisation of the music
altering over time and repeated performances of it. Certainly, before this period of
systemisation and codification, performances of Notre-Dame’s repertoire appear to
have been conceived of in a more performative, rhythmically freer way. Anonymous
IV, when writing regarding the lack of formal shaping of notes in the notation of the
‘ancients’, remarks on how difficult it must have been to differentiate brevis and
longa via notation. They then explain that performers were reliant upon the
consonant areas of the music to intuit the rhythm, saying that
the upper-voice respected the lower voices. These persons taught others,
saying: Listen to them and be guided by them while singing. … The upper-
voice must form a good consonance with the lower-part, and that is enough.117
This note-against-note approach was evidently in use around the turn of the century,
as an anonymous treatise on music from St Martial dated from the late 12th or early
13th centuries transmits similarly basic rules for discant.118 They write that
discantus accords with its cantus firmus always through some consonance or
unison and by means of an equal number of notes119
114 Forrest-Kelly, Thomas. (2015) Capturing Music: The Story of Notation. New York: W. W. Norton
& Company, p. 67.
115 Dittmer, Luther. (1959) Anonymous IV. Musical Theorists in Translation. Vol 1. New York:
Institute of Mediaeval Music.
116 Berger, Anna Maria Busse. (2005) Medieval Music and the Art of Memory. California: University
of California, p. 197.
117 Dittmer, 1959, p. 40. This would suggests that no strict rhythmical systematic interpretation
occurred concerning this music until a later period.
118 Seay, Albert. (1957) ‘An Anonymous Treatise from St. Martial’. Annales musicologiques: Moyen-
âge et Renaissance. Vol. 5, pp. 7–42.
119 Waite, 1954, p. 107. He earlier sums this up as ‘nota contra notam’ in (1952) ‘Discantus, Copula,
Organum’. Journal of the American Musicological Society. Vol. 5, No. 2, pp. 77–87, 81.
36
This linkage between upper and lower voices, where they changed notes together,
clearly holds interest for the syllabic sections of the conductus, where singular notes
are primarily used in all parts, and all voices move together. This approach places
more weight upon the singers’ unity in performance, rather than on notational
signals and the interpretation of them.
That this approach was in use in Leonin’s time is evidenced by Anonymous IV’s claim
that the notational symbols codifying longa and brevis were only really stabilised by
the time of Perotin.120 John Haines noted that these ‘ancients’ were flourishing
around 1200 and still notating in the ‘equivocal’ style that Anonymous IV laments.121
W1’s likely place in this early Notre-Dame period is shown by the still-developing
writing of the musical notation it contains, as evidenced by the occasional non-
standard currente usage along with the clef and accidental confusion that arise in
some of the pieces.122
A point of particular interest from the above excerpt from Anonymous IV in terms of
three- and four-voice conductus is that Anonymous IV appears to claim that the
upper voice was above several other voices: ‘the upper-voice respected the lower
voices’. This suggests that at least 3-part polyphony was already occurring before
the time of Perotin, and that therefore rhythmically free performances of music
containing more than two lines did occur. A common argument for modally rhythmic
interpretations of this music is that it would have been impossible for three lines to
have kept together metrically; this quotation suggests otherwise.
Anonymous IV’s labelling of the period around Leonin as ‘ancient’ is understandable,
considering that they were writing in the latter stages of the century (ca. 1275–
1280).123 Looking past the developments of Johannes de Garlandia and the
systemisation that had occurred during the first half of the century would have felt
like delving into a deep and murky past (a common feeling for those looking from a
more systematised world into an era pre-systemisation). Indeed, considering how
late Anonymous IV appears to be, they were writing about music that was becoming
120 Dittmer, 1959, p. 40.
121 Haines, John. (2006) ‘Anonymous IV as an Informant on the Craft of Music Writing’. Journal of
Musicology. Vol. 23, No. 3, pp. 375–425, 381–2.
122 Baltzer, 2008, p. 116.
123 Dittmer, p. 1; Apel, 1961, p. 201.
37
increasingly obsolete and replaced with Franconian notation (named after its
creator, Franco of Cologne). This notation took the step towards codifying rhythmic
information in singular note shapes, rather than entire note phrases as had been
done in the ordos of modal rhythm. We must be wary, then, of applying Anonymous
IV’s rhythmic world onto music that had come far before them.
It is to be noted that Anonymous IV’s explanation of ‘Compositions for Three and
Four Voices’ includes those basic rules that Roesner listed earlier: when adding a
Triplum line in first mode, it must form consonances with both the Tenor and
Duplum on every odd-numbered note. The Duplum must also form consonances with
the Tenor, whilst the even-numbered notes in all the parts do not have to follow
these rules.124 Again, the first mode’s reliance upon consonance on every odd-
numbered note shows its roots in the freer world of Roesner’s proto-modal, ‘ancient’
rhythms, which are transmitted in the St Martial anonymous treatise. Anonymous IV
may also make an oblique reference to this approach earlier in their treatise, when
they say
There is also a kind of organum, which was so designated by our forebearers,
and this involves the consonance of one sound with another. Of all of them
[the various ‘organum’ that occur], this one consisted of connected conductus
simplices with any kind of mensuration, and any kind of melody.125
These ‘simple’ conductus, based on consonance between parts, sounds very similar
to the early rules for discant. Such early conductus, with no mensural specificity (no
‘cum proprietas’ or ‘perfectione’ meanings in their note tails) are found throughout
W1. At no point does W1 transmit mensuration information, with note tails coming
and going seemingly at random.
It seems that, for those conductus transmitted in earlier sources, a proto-modal
interpretation is more fitting if we wish to claim any historical accuracy in our
performances of them. If we aim for a historically-informed performance of this
music in any way, we must keep in mind what we understand to have happened to
it during this period of change. We must regulate our rhythmical interpretation of
this music when performing from sources of differing dates, just as we alter physical
124 Dittmer, p. 65.
125 Dittmer, 1959, p. 56.
38
aspects of our performance along the same lines (altering bows, string types, and
instrumental construction per historical eras).
Conductus as Discant?
The proto-modal rhythmic idea is primarily ascribed to the discant species of Notre-
Dame polyphony, which Ernest Sanders claims does not contain conductus in its
genus.126 Sanders’s primary reason for this argument to disprove the conductus’s
relationship to discant is so that it can be free from being similarly ‘governed by the
rhythmic modes’.
Sanders’ dislike regarding modal rhythm being applied to the conductus is clear, and
to this end he points out that Johannes de Garlandia only uses a single conductus
example, part of one of the caudae, in his explanation of modal rhythm.127 This
singular use of a cauda does not equal an entire repertory beholden to modal rhythm,
of course, but in his rush to disprove the link between discant and conductus in order
to free the conductus from modal rhythm, I believe he ignored the early discant
rules laid out earlier, where similarities between the two are clear.
An early connection between the two does not necessarily indicate a strong
relationship at a later stage. The conductus clearly became a separate entity, and
evolved on its course away from the other types of discant (much like the motet’s
evolution out of the conductus).128 In early writings, or writings talking of early
conductus, however, a link can be made between the two.
The Discantus positio vulgaris in fact makes a clear association between the two,
stating that
Other kinds of discantus include conductus, motet, and hocket.129
Though this statement does appear just before the section of questionable
authorship and likely later dating, a point Sanders references when he claims ‘the
126 Sanders, 1985, p. 452.
127 Sanders, 1985, p. 452.
128 Falck, 1981, p. 2.
129 Strunck, Oliver & Treitler, Leo. (1998) Source Readings in Music History. Revised Edition. New
York: W. W. Norton & Company, p. 221.
39
designation of conductus as a kind of discant seems not to have occurred before the
1270s’,130 the similarities between the two styles cannot be easily ignored. Even in
a three-voice conductus, we still find ourselves aiming towards the anchor points of
consonance at ligature and section starts and ends. The simple roots of the first
mode in discant link nearly all the music that is grouped under the Notre-Dame
banner, but it is especially clear in the conductus. The note-against-note rules and
style of early discant is seen in the syllabic sections of conductus, whilst the caudae
show clear resemblance to the florid sections of organum, just with all voices joining
in and moving together.
Sanders strangely discounts the link made between conductus and organum in the
earlier part of the Discantus positio vulgaris, where larger-scale ligatures are said
to be found in both organum and conductus:
[These ligatures] are not really subject to rules but are performed ad libitum;
and they are particularly applicable to organum and conductus.131
Sanders claims this to be a sign that the two are unrelated132 — I beg to differ. Clearly
they are two separate entities by this time, but if we accept that early caudae
(where such ligatures appeared) were in fact rhythmically free and not restricted by
modal rhythms, then the usage of these unmeasured ligatures becomes less
surprising. Such a rhythmically free cauda then suddenly seems closer to the
freedom of organa. Their sharing of certain building blocks, these larger ligatures,
would in fact suggest a familial resemblance.
Anonymous IV also connects early conductus to organum, as we saw earlier when
they state
There is also a kind of organum, which was so designated by our forebearers,
and this involves the consonance of one sound with another. … this one
consisted of connected conductus simplices133
As early discant was not so rigorously controlled by rhythmic rulesets (as shown by
Roesner earlier), then the conductus’s noticeable similarities to early discant could
130 Sanders, 1985, p. 452 fn 70.
131 Sanders, 1985, p. 444.
132 Sanders, 1985, p. 452 fn 70.
133 Dittmer, 1959, p. 56.
40
show a link between the two as an off-shoot, similar to how the conductus is
(liturgically speaking) an off-shoot from primary religious service needs.
Indeed, Anonymous IV’s listing of Perotin’s achievements names him ‘the greatest
composer of discantile compositions’ and then soon after lists several of his
‘excellent’ and ‘renowned’ conductus.134 Being skilled in one, it seems, led to being
skilled in the other.
Gustav Reese clearly saw the likelihood of a link between the two styles, as he
claimed
the forerunners of the polyphonic conductus are such early organa as were
based on melodies with metrical texts135
As conductus texts were similarly based on Latin metrical poems, Reese clearly saw
an evolution occurring here, from the early organa to the conductus. All of this then
suggests that conductus was, at least originally, part of the discant species,
alongside organum.136 Their sharing constituent parts such as large-scale ligatures
and textual similarities, along with two theorists grouping them together in some
way, therefore leaves no doubt in this author’s mind that the two were linked.
Therefore, this allows comparisons between the conductus and the rhythms of
discant.
Earlier Notions of Rhythm
That there was some form of underlying pulse throughout the conductus regardless
of the rhythmical freedom the notes had is suggested by the Discantus positio
vulgaris, which, in the later section, claims the conductus is 'a highly consonant
chant upon a meter'.137 Some modern writers have taken this to mean that modal
rhythm was already in existence and should be applied to the conductus – but the
heavy weight of meaning upon ‘highly consonant’ suggests that the meter was
perhaps primarily influenced by the consonant anchor points of proto-modality. That
134 Ibid., p. 36.
135 Reese, Gustav. (1941) Music in the Middle Ages. London: J. M. Dent & Sons, p. 308.
136 Sanders, 1985, p. 452.
137 Gillingham, 1991, p. 62.
41
the conductus came across as ‘highly consonant’ would support Roesner’s statement
that the dissonant, subsidiary ‘passing’ notes were performed quicker than the more
consonant notes, and that the moving between these anchor points was so artfully
done that any dissonance was happily resolved quickly by the musicians. ‘upon a
meter’ also suggests a singular tempo – not the changes between non-modal syllabic
sections (cum littera) and the modal caudae sections (sine littera) that are
commonly presented in interpretations of the conductus.
The earlier section of this treatise, dating from the start of the second half of the
century, gives no clear indication of modal rhythm being applicable to the
conductus. The only mention of conductus in this section is in connection with
ligatures numbering more than four notes, which we noted above:
[These ligatures] are not really subject to rules but are performed ad libitum;
and they are particularly applicable to organum and conductus.138
Organum is a species of Notre-Dame chant that contains remarkably rhythmically
free sections, alongside note-against-note discant sections. Attempts to apply modal
rhythm to the free sections are few and far between, and are rarely satisfactory.
The inclusion by the anonymous writer of the Discantus positio vulgaris of something
encountered in the rhythmically free sections of organum in the supposedly modal
caudae of conductus (as this is the only place in a conductus where such ligatures
appear) suggests an earlier performance practice that encompassed rhythmically
free components at the very least. This ‘ad libitum’ approach is likely due to the
writer’s refusal or ignorance of fractio modi that we encountered earlier, but this
in itself tells us much regarding the still developing practices of Notre-Dame
polyphony. Such ligatures were clearly approached in a rhythmically free way, rather
than the modal groupings as later theorists would attempt to codify, and mostly
struggle with. Even William Waite’s attempts in The Rhythm of Twelfth-Century
Polyphony are less than satisfactory, containing tuplets and divisions down into
semibreves that no performer would be comfortable with, especially not in reading
straight from the page.
138 Sanders, 1985, p. 444.
42
The Influence of Poetry
An exploration of the rhythm of the conductus must also touch upon the theory of
poetic meter, as there are those that believe the rhythmic modes of Notre-Dame
polyphony developed out of the poetic metrics of the time. This appears to have
stemmed from Leonard Ellinwood’s claim that the ‘conductus was a Latin metrical
poem set to music’,139 a claim that has mutated into a belief that poetic metrics
were the forebears of modal rhythm.
Willi Apel dismisses the notion that poetic metrics influenced modal rhythm,
pointing out that the only medieval theorist who expresses such a link was Walter
Odington (ca. 1280),140 who used such terms due to his antiquarian studies into Greek
poetry rather than them having had any direct impact on the development of the
rhythmic modes. Edward Roesner, however, is not so quick to dismiss the notion
entirely. Whilst not accepting a direct influence of poetry onto modal rhythm, he
does concede that they played some role in its development, as
they fostered a sensitivity towards a particular kind of controlled stress in
works intended to be realized in sound, as well as towards certain kinds of
durational relationships141
though he qualifies this by claiming that the development of modal rhythm would
have occurred without this influence (due to its reliance upon the consonance
weighting patterns he described earlier).
Certainly, poetical terminology is appropriate when speaking with regards to the
text, as they are clearly based on poetical forms and standards.142 Ernest Sanders
claims that the poetic verses were secondary to the music, in fact being created in
order to fit the music.143 The existence of a number of Conductus texts in just textual
form (including several of Philipp the Chancellor’s in the Carmina Burana) suggests
that these texts circulated on their own before their usage in a conductus, or at
least on their own after their use in the conductus. The apparent close working
139 Ellinwood, 1941, p. 165.
140 Apel, 1961, p. 201.
141 Roesner, 1990, p. 45, fn 7.
142 For an example of this, see: Gillingham, 1991.
143 Sanders, 1985, p. 451.
43
relationship between Perotin and Philipp the Chancellor144 suggests the potential
that neither music nor text was secondary, and that both were created in an
understanding of the other’s requirements.
This author would suggest, following along the notion of anchor points/stresses on
consonance that a similar approach be taken with the words whereby natural
stresses are allowed to occur in the words in a similarly personally interpreted way
as the rhythmic contents. This would be especially prevalent in the syllabic cum
littera sections of the conductus, which, as they are notated primarily in single
notes, modal rhythm was unlikely to have been used. Johannes de Garlandia points
out that single notes are not part of any ligature,145 and as modal rhythm was
explained in the context of a repeated series of ligatures,146 the argument can be
made that single notes were not seen as having a specific durational value.147 This
is supported by Anonymous IV’s statement that syllabic cum littera sections in ‘the
older books’ were notated in ‘an ambiguous manner’, which caused musicians to
struggle to understand the required length of notes. This section however feels like
a theorist attempting to shoehorn their current methodology into music that it
doesn’t quite fit. Anonymous IV claims that if one follows the then current rules of
propriety and perfection when reading this music, then ‘the uncertainty of the old
books is resolved’,148 but there is little in the way of differentiation in the ‘old books’
(likely W1, and other similarly dated sources) concerning the propriety and
perfection rules of the later 13th century. In fact, most note heads are similar
entirely; if a tail is missing from one note, the likelihood is that the rest of the
following notes are missing them too. No unified system is shown in the contents of
W1 supporting the usage of rules concerning propriety and perfection, so when
Anonymous IV claims that syllabic passages of single notes can be read in terms of
brevis and longa, this is certainly not the case for W1 where all the single noteheads
are similar. We must then assume that they were treated in a non-specific durational
144 Or, indeed, the potential that Philipp the Chancellor himself wrote the conductus his texts are
attached to.
145 Sanders, 1985, p. 449, fn 52.
146 Ibid., p. 450.
147 Ibid., p. 451.
148 Ibid., p. 447.
44
approach, where the flow of the text may well have been the main factor in their
rhythmic delivery.
Is Modal Rhythm Historically Defensible for W1?
So, then, we have a rhythmic system in the ordos of modality that can only be
honestly claimed to have been in codified usage by the middle of the 13th century
(Johannes de Garlandia’s work being the first treatise to entirely codify modal
rhythm; the efforts of the Discantus positio vulgaris do not offer a fully realised
system in the same way as Garlandia). Considering this systemisation’s epoch occurs
at least ten years, and possibly twenty, after the creation of W1, and around twenty-
five years after both Perotin’s and Philipp the Chancellor’s deaths,149 we should be
careful of applying this fully-realised system onto W1 without considering the dating
of its contents. W1 clearly transmits music of Notre-Dame’s earlier period of
creation, including a piece as early as 1164–1170. ‘In Rama Sonat Gemitus’,150 a
single-voiced conductus lamenting the archbishop Thomas à Becket’s exile in France,
must date from this period,151 as if it had come from any later time it would have
been a lament for his death as Becket’s assassination occurred during December of
1170. Similarly, the 3-voiced Crucifigat omnes152 from Fascicle 8 (the same fascicle
that the editions below take as their primary source) was likely created around 1188
as a summons to the Third Crusade.153 Such a period would place it in the earliest
era of modal rhythm’s history (arguably pre-history as we know so little from this
period), and potentially puts it in the position of being created by Leonin, not
Perotin.
Leonin’s active dates are 1180–1200,154 and whilst Anonymous IV does not specifically
mention Leonin in connection to the conductus repertoire, this does not provide
149 Apel, 1961, p. 215, dates Perotin’s life and death as 1160-1235; both Handschin, 1952, p. 107
and Husmann, Heinrich & Briner, Andres P. (1963) “The Enlargement of the “Magnus liber organi”
and the Paris Churches St. Germain l’Auxerrois and Ste. Geneviève-du-Mont”. Journal of the
American Musicological Society. Vol. 16, No. 2, pp. 176–203, 186, give Philipp the Chancellor’s
death as 1236.
150 W1, f. 185v.
151 Purser, 2007, p. 60.
152 W1, f. 78v–79.
153 Anderson, 1986, p. XXXIII; Knapp, Janet. (1965) Thirty-Five Conductus for Two and Three Voices.
USA: Yale University, p. 141.
154 Forrest-Kelly, 2015, p. 85.
45
concrete evidence that he did not participate in the creation of some of it. Whilst
only Perotin is specifically linked to the creation of conductus, Anonymous IV labels
Leonin as ‘the greatest composer of polyphonic music’155 before Perotin, and the
dates shown above make it far more likely that it was Leonin, not Perotin, who
created the earlier conductus. Indeed, if the dating for In Rama Sonat Gemitus is
correct, then this conductus may have come from a period before even Leonin (the
conductus being cultivated in Paris since the 1160s156). The quietness on Leonin’s
outputs other than organa in Anonymous IV’s treatise does not necessarily equate to
a lack of production on his part, and one should note the point made earlier about
the similarities between organa and conductus — such a link might suggest Leonin
did indeed compose conductus, including three-part ones. The number of voices in
a piece does not in any way necessitate a later creation date, so the tripla and
quadrupla of Parisian organum may not have a later creation date than that of the
dupla.157
An alternate translation of this area of Anonymous IV’s writing by Thomas Forrest-
Kelly sheds a different light on labelling of Perotin specifically with the conductus.
In this reading, Perotin composed ‘the most noble three-voice works’; a potential
emphasis here on ‘most’ suggests that other three-voice conductus were created,
but in a lesser style than Perotin’s creations. Of these, we could likely include
Crucifigat omnes. Containing no caudae at all, being written only in the texted cum
littera style, and with its early dating, this conductus may well have been seen as a
lesser form in the repertoire, less ‘noble’ than those made by Perotin which included
multiple florid caudae indicating a likely later creation. Caudae, or at least the space
for caudae, 158 do appear in the manuscript Troyes 1471 (dated to the first quarter
of the 13th century and likely of Parisian origin),159 and no earlier extant source for
the conductus repertory exists; but the simple syllabic sections of conductus must
surely have come first, the beginnings of polyphony itself being similarly note-
against-note. The lack of caudae in both Crucifigat omnes and In Rama Sonat
Gemitus suggests that caudae were a development that occurred around the turn of
155 Dittmer, 1959, p. 36.
156 Bevilacqua, Gregorio. (2016) ‘The Earliest Source of Notre-Dame Polyphony?: A New Conductus
Fragment from the Early Thirteenth Century’. Music and Letters. Vol. 97, No. 1, pp. 1–41, 2 fn 1.
157 Roesner, 1993, p. lxix.
158 Bevilacqua, 2016, p. 12.
159 Bevilacqua, 2016, p. 20–23.
46
the 13th century. Another indicator for the later creation of a conductus is the usage
of a text attributed to Philipp the Chancellor, which gives us a likely period of around
1217 (the beginning of his chancellor-hood)160 to 1236 (his death)161 for the creation
of a piece. Without such attribution, we are reliant on historical indicators, such as
Crucifigat omnes’s links to the Crusades.
As shown in Chapter 1, W1 is likely to be the earliest of the major Notre-Dame
sources, so we must be careful in our presentations of this repertory, in order to
represent it in the correct rhythmical context. As Johannes de Garlandia’s treatise
appeared only in the 1250s, we cannot be entirely sure that modal rhythm was in
existence as a clean-cut set of rules followed by all composers before this point.
Indeed, as Sanders argues, by using it in a blanket method we ‘conglomerate… the
approaches of at least four generations to different genres’,162 and he notes that
such a method applies technical approaches and terminologies to pieces of music
that were likely never thought of in such a way.
Certainly, Leonin was likely writing in a ‘proto-modal’ way for non-organa, following
the simple rules that Roesner laid out above and are similarly found in the St Martial
anonymous treatise. Can we be so sure that Perotin did not follow similar rules
whereby rhythm was created by the interpretation of the singer’s lines, rather than
by fixed rules set by theorists, the earliest of whom can claim no date earlier than
after the death of the major creators of this repertory? Even our main sources of
Notre Dame polyphony were created at least fifty years after the earliest stages of
the repertory that they transmit.163
We must remember that, certainly in the 1230s and likely in the 1240s, we are still
in an area of change with this repertory where codification is still proving elusive
(or impossible). The performances and notation were still growing out of the
Gregorian tradition, and the terminologies taken from that tradition still being
adapted to the changing circumstances. Indeed, the term organum could mean both
the specific organum style (long melismatic flourishes across a held Tenor, along
160 Husmann & Briner, 1963, p. 186.
161 Handschin, 1952, p. 107.
162 Sanders, Ernest H. (1980) ‘Letter from Ernest H. Sanders’. Journal of the American Musicological
Society. Vol. 33, No. 3, pp. 602–607, 602.
163 Roesner, 1990, p. 43.
47
with discant sections where both lines were changing together) and also general
polyphonic compositions.164 Notational differences between Anonymous IV’s time
and the time of W1 are noticeable — notions of ‘propriety’ and ‘perfection’ being
given via note tail placement are clearly not of interest, or unknown, to the notators
of W1. So when Anonymous IV claims that rhythmical ambiguity in ‘the old books’
can be solved by following such rules,165 they are providing a solution that, frankly,
does not fit the notes given. This is a theorist trying to reconcile their system with
the unruly music from before their time, retrofitting their ideas onto older music
that does not actually support such rules.
Thomas Forrest-Kelly rightfully warns of this, noting that
the music of Notre-Dame composers is not as systematic as Johannes and his
colleagues described; that’s because it developed gradually, and because it
is art, not mechanical patterns.166
The concerns of the theorists of this time were based around musica, which meant
the measuring of music using numbers and ratio to find harmony (in both a musical
sense and a universal one).167 The notion of ‘immeasurable’ or ‘not-so-precisely-
measured’168 music was of little interest to them, and as we noted above with
Anonymous IV’s suggestion of interpreting supposed mensural properties in ‘the old
books’, the idea that music which was now measured had potentially not been fifty
years ago was clearly concerning and required fixing. Such a change in usage of this
music ran contrary to their practice of creating a ‘rigorous description’ of such
music, even though we can now clearly see that such descriptions are far more
systematic than the actual practice around the repertoire.169 Those genres that
appear to have always been un-measured, such as plainchant, were noticeably left
alone in the retrofitting efforts of these theorists.170
164 Anonymous IV lists a number of variations on the term — Dittmer, 1959, p. 56.
165 Sanders, 1985, p. 447.
166 Forrest-Kelly, 2015, p. 96, emphasis added.
167 van der Werf, Hendrick. (2009) ‘The “Not-so-precisely Measured” Music of the Middle Ages’ in:
Aubrey, Elizabeth. (ed.) Poets and Singers: On Latin and Vernacular Monophonic Song. Music in
Medieval Europe. Great Britain: Ashgate, pp. 489–507, 490.
168 Ibid., p. 492.
169 Forrest-Kelly, p. 96.
170 van der Werf, pp. 492, 496.
48
There have been calls to judge Notre-Dame against more recent transmissions in
mensural notation, closer to the world Anonymous IV was living in. However, even
if we ignore the fact that these transmissions come far later than the originals, we
still find the belief that the transmitters were intending to present a source precisely
as they found it; but intentional alteration of music could, and did, happen for
specific receiving institutions. Rather than comparing two sources and finding the
‘original’ somewhere in the middle (even with sources contemporary to each other,
such as W1 and F), one should first ask whether or not the changes between the
sources actually show a varied performing practice between different areas and
institutions. A comparison between an early source and a later does not inform us
of the rhythmic content of the earlier one – it only tells us how the later period
transmitted it.
Geographical Difference
One must also take into account geographical differences of manuscript locations in
determining the correct performance practices for them. There are a number of
English sources that indicate non-modal rhythm for conductus, including the late
13th century GB-Cjec MS QB1,171 which, whilst transmitting several Notre-Dame
conductus in non-mensural (and therefore likely rhythmically non-measured) syllabic
notation, also uses mensural notation for some of its other contents. The lack of
caudae in the pieces transmitted leaves us with only the syllabic treatment to
analyse, but the fact that these sections still contain no mensural indicators of
propriety or perfection strongly suggest a practice common in England until the late
13th century that did not ascertain rhythmic information through such indicators in
this repertoire. Robert Falck has noted that there appears to have been an
independent tradition within England of conductus composition contemporary with
the main epoch of Notre-Dame’s output.172 Such an independent performance
practice in England might also have been transmitted to, and prevailed in, Scotland,
171 Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music (unknown) GB-Cjec MS QB1. [Online] Available at:
172 Falck, 1981, p. 9.
49
though Scotland’s strong links with France may also have meant that such a tradition
was bypassed in the transmission of W1’s contents from Paris.
Roesner has noted that outside of the immediate sphere of Notre-Dame, the notation
and music of conductus and organa was likely to have been interpreted differently,
and such music may have been rendered in a more straight-forward manner without
the trappings of modal rhythm.173 It is notable W1 transmits no motets, a style that
had become quite popular at this time. However there are two four-part motets
transmitted in a truncated form174 with their Tenors removed, leaving them as three-
part conductus, along with a number of three-part motets similarly altered to
become two-part conductus.175 Evidently whoever created W1 felt that their
intended audience would not have appreciated or understood these motets. W1
transmits the four-part Viderunt omnes and Sederunt principes by Perotin, so it
cannot be claimed that their audience would not have appreciated the complicated
polyphony of the four-part motets; clearly a stylistic preference was at play here –
it is quite possible that such new styles as the motet were believed to be less
welcome at St Andrews.
To conclude this chapter, then, we must summarise the many arguments given
above:
1. Modal rhythm appears to have first been truly codified as a system by
Johannes de Garlandia, in the 1250s; earlier treatises transmit more
simplified rhythmical rules, based around harmonic concordances between
‘anchor points’ rather than specific rhythmical meanings.
2. The Conductus is likely derived from the underlying rules for discant,
evolving out of the discant species to become a separate entity.
3. Syllabic sections should not be treated modally – Garlandia notes that giving
single notes a specific durational value is a remarkable novelty,176 so
173 Roesner, 1990, p. 43 fn 5.
174 Latex silice, from the 8th Fascicle, and Serena virignum, from the 2nd Fascicle. See: Falck, 1981,
p. 2.
175 See: Falck, 1981, p. 2.
176 Sanders, 1985, p. 451.
50
anything pre-1250 (i.e. W1) should be treated non-rhythmically, likely
following the vocal stresses of the texts.
4. Pre-1250 caudae probably followed the early rules for discant, where the
singers aimed for the concordant points of ligatures and gave them more
weight
5. Geographical location must be taken into account. Differing areas have
different traditions of performance that should be noted and taken into
consideration when approaching issues like rhythm.
6. Following the above points, it follows that W1, likely created in the 1230s or
1240s for use in St Andrews, contains music not intended for an entirely
modal approach. This is especially true for those pieces that are datable to
the early period of Notre-Dame polyphony – there is no historical basis for
applying later-developed modal rhythm onto such pieces.
51
Chapter 4: Editorial Procedure and Terminology
Editorial Procedure
The conductus chosen for transcription are taken from the eighth fascicle of W1,
and will show the variety in complexity found in these pieces. Conductus both with
and without cauda are given here, as without definitive historical markers within a
piece, dating a piece is relatively impossible. Whilst earlier it was surmised that
conductus without caudae are likely to be an earlier form of the conductus, this does
not mean that those with cauda are instantly out-with the realm of an earlier
rhythmical interpretation. With modal rhythm’s codification only being confidently
datable to Garlandia’s treatise of the 1250s, we are left with a remarkable amount
of time in which music was still thought of in freer terms; even Perotin’s music
potentially comes under this banner. Therefore conductus with caudae are also dealt
with here in an attempt to show that such music was feasible within the rhythmically
freer world of early Notre-Dame polyphony.
The notation of W1 is relatively consistent throughout all eleven fascicles comprising
of puncta and virga for single notes, and ligatures that are mostly in square notehead
form (though liquescence does occasionally appear). Within the conductus repertory
we find a relatively large occurrence of currentes, the diamond-shaped noteheads
that are often just a scribal shorthand for a ligature. Plicae also occur as tails on the
ends of notes, indicating an extra note going up or down depending on the direction
of the tail. This is usually to the next note, but occasionally a third if the gap
between the main notated notes is large enough.
With regards to the points made earlier regarding the freedom of rhythm that this
author believes the early conductus to have, a caveat should be made, that any
interpretation of this music is just that, an interpretation. Should the lack of clear
rhythmic indicators in the scores enclosed within this thesis present a problem to
the performer, other editions portraying a supposed rhythmical certainty are
available (Anderson, Knapp, etc). No matter what editorial policy is taken upon this
52
repertory, one must always be aware that the main point of interest for the
performer and listener is how this music sounds.
As Falck notes,
any rhythmic transcription of a conductus can never be more than a theory,
but a theory about the music itself, not just about the notation.177
To that end, this writer believes the freedom provided by the enclosed scores will
allow for a performance based more upon how this music ‘sounds’ rather than how
this music can be interpreted through ancient treatises. Such a performance-based
approach may indeed result in outcomes that differ from what was originally heard
when this manuscript was first in use, but this writer suspects that the simple rules
listed earlier of basing the weight of notes upon their consonance or dissonance will
easily fit within a modern performer’s approaches. It is hoped that, for a group of
singers comfortably working with each other, a musical outcome will be easily
obtainable for these transcriptions.
In defence of the ‘diplomatic’ transcriptions (as they are sometimes called)
contained within this thesis, to the author’s knowledge such an endeavour has not
been undertaken with this music before. Editions exist of this music in both a strictly
modal form and a relatively freer version (Anderson and Knapp, respectively) but no
publication has yet transcribed the repertory of the polyphonic conductus in a
rhythmically free method. If for no other reason then, the enclosed transcriptions
present an opportunity to see how such pieces fare in such free rhythmical notation.
It is the author’s hope that they will show that rhythmically interpreted
transcriptions of this music do not need to be the only valid transcriptions existent.
Indeed the edition by Anderson listed above has been deemed too overbearing in its
treatment of modal rhythm. Not only applying it to the melismatic sine littera
sections, Anderson also applied it to the syllabic cum littera sections, a practice
that more recent scholarship know believes to be an unfounded approach to this
music. No contemporary treatise aside from the 1279 St. Emmeram Anonymous
177 Falck, 1981, p. ii.
53
associates the syllabic sections of conductus with the modal rhythmic system. 178
This author believes that over-bearing rhythmical interpretations enforced by
editors from on high are unnecessary so long as the performers are capable enough
to work together in a rhythmically free framework. To this end, the enclosed
transcriptions do little except update the music to the modern-day syntax of
Western notational expectations, providing the performers the notes and words
arranged in a manner similar to how the manuscript presents them (with necessary
adjustments for space and critical scribal errors). The music is aligned in a way that
the parts are together and readable with modern clefs and noteheads, but with no
obvious meter or rhythm to be found. It is hoped that this performance world will
create, and necessitate, a ‘sympathetic understanding between the singers’179
during their performances of these pieces.
Terminology
Cauda/Caudae:
The non-texted (‘sine littera’) sections of a conductus, written primarily in ligatures
as opposed to the single notes more common to the texted (‘cum littera’) sections.
They primarily occur at the end of a stanza of text, on the second to last syllable,
sung on the vowel. Likely a chance for singers to have shown their abilities.
Cum/Sine Littera:
Simply, with or without text. The only areas of a conductus without text are the
caudae.
178 See Sanders, 1985, p. 453.
179 Apel, 1961, p. 218.
54
Currentes:
These are diamond-shaped notes with no tail commonly appearing in a ternaria
ligature as the two last notes (see Example 3 below), however they can occasionally
be found elsewhere; the notation for these is the same throughout.
Ex. 3
=
Ligature (Binaria, Ternaria):
The grouping together of two or more notes into a single pen-stroke. The ligature
forms given in W1 are the result of several centuries’ worth of usage and
systemisation of earlier neume forms. With the advent of the stave in music, scribes
needed to fit earlier free-form neumes onto rigid staff lines, resulting in the square-
note heads that we find in the Notre-Dame repertory. The most common forms of
ligature are the binaria and ternaria, which comprise either two or three notes
joined together. The most common forms are given below, with their modern day
equivalents.
Binaria:
=
Ex. 4
=
55
Ternaria:
=
=
=
Ex. 5
=
Plica/Plicae:
These are notes added onto the end of a ligature, taking the form of an additional
tail to the ligature that otherwise would not be there. In terms of alignment with
the other parts, these can occur on their own, either necessitating the other parts
to wait until the plica has been sung, or taking a portion of the main note’s
durational length.180
In Example 6 below, the first binaria has a plica, whilst the second does not.
Ex. 6
=
180 Apel, 1961, p. 227.
56
In Example 7 below, we have two lines exactly the same in terms of ligatures, aside
from the lower line containing a plica on the second ligature. Clearly a performance
of this cannot continue until the plica has been sung, before moving onto the next
ligature in all parts:
Ex. 7
=
However, plicae also commonly occur on the end of a binaria when a ternaria is
being sung in a different part — the obvious reading here then is that plicae are
sometimes a shorthand for another note, meant to occur simultaneously with
another part. In the middle of the phrase below (Example 8), the Triplum line
contains two ternaria and then a binaria, whilst the Duplum contains a ternaria,
binaria with plica tail, and another binaria. This level of similarity between parts
around a ligature with a plica is an obvious sign that the plica is clearly taking the
same duration as a regular note.
Ex. 8
=
Puncta and Virga:
These are the single notes found throughout W1. A puncta has no tail, whilst a virga
does; the virga form is more common in W1. Both are notated the same way in the
57
transcriptions; there is no evidence of them having alternative meanings until late
13th-centruy treatises.
Ex. 9
and
=
Silbenstrich:
A term that has perhaps fallen out of favour recently, the word is used here as a
general ‘catch all’ term for the vertical strokes that occur throughout the music of
this manuscript and the other sources of Notre-Dame polyphony (See Example 10
below). Throughout W1’s conductus, the primary occurrence of the Silbenstriche is
to signal a change in syllable; indeed the term Silbenstrich appears to have occurred
out of the need to give these markers a defined terminology. A common explanation
of the term is
a short vertical stroke through some part of the staff to indicate a change of
syllable in the text181
This definition does not allow for the usage of the term for another common meaning
also given by some vertical strokes, that of a rest. However some writers have
equated the term to a rest, taking it as either a rest that does not break the flow of
the melodic line,182 or one of clear rhythmically-precise length, taking a place with
the ordos of modal rhythm. This change appears to have occurred at least partially
in the 1950s: William Waite introduces the term ‘Silbenstrich’ in his 1951 work The
Rhythm of Twelfth-Century Polyphony according to the precept set above, noting
of its non-temporal status as a syllable change marker; 183 at no point throughout
the work does he equate the Silbenstriche with rests. Seven years later, however,
confusion over its usage appears to have already begun, as Waite criticises Carl
Parrish’s The Notation of Medieval Music184 for its lack of use of the term, and an
181 Randel, 1986, p. 749.
182 Dyer, Joseph. (1980) ‘A Thirteenth-Century Choirmaster: The “Scientia Artis Musicae” of Elia
Salmon’. The Musical Quarterly. Vol. 66, No. 1, pp. 83-111, 108.
183 Waite, 1951, p. 91
184 Waite, William G. (1958) ‘Review: The Notation of Medieval Music by Carl Parrish’. Notes. Vol.
15, No. 3, pp. 393-395, 394.
58
apparent misunderstanding of its function. Even by this early point in the term’s life
it seems to have already started to be conflated with the rests of modal rhythm. It
appears that this growing association of the term with the rests implicated by some
vertical strokes caused Edward Roesner to abandon the term altogether, preferring
to term them simply as vertical strokes indicating rests, breath marks, or syllable
changes as necessary.185
However, the term is of use in descriptions of the manuscript’s contents. Throughout
the editorial commentaries, it will be used to denote any vertical stroke occurring
in the manuscript; further usage intentions believed to be indicated by them will be
clarified either by the commentary or by the transcriptions themselves.
In the transcriptions contained here, the Silbenstriche will be notated in three
different ways. If a Silbenstrich is marking the end of a textual phrase and is common
to at least two parts, then a normal bar line will be used. If a Silbenstrich is not
marking the end of a phrase, only a syllable change partway through a phrase (but
similarly in at least two parts), then a dotted bar line will be used (this is primarily
for ease of use in terms of regular section breaks). If a Silbenstrich is in fact
indicating a rest, then a small line through the top stave line will be used, with the
space left blank until the performer is meant to enter again (see Example 11 below
for how this appears).
Where the Silbenstriche do not either concord throughout at least two parts or do
not play an obvious role as a rest, then they have been omitted for clarity’s sake.
Those Silbenstriche that divide a singular note or ligature from the rest of a phrase,
rather than occurring part way through a phrase, are mostly disregarded as well for
ease of reading. Much of these extraneous Silbenstriche are word change markers
that are unnecessary for modern day performers, though they will be recorded in
the commentary.
Ex. 10
Ex. 11
185 Roesner, 1993, pp. lxxxvii and xciv.
59
Tenor, Duplum, Triplum:
The Tenor is the bottom line of a conductus (or any other composition of this period;
note that some literature refers to the Tenor as ‘Cantus’). The Duplum is the line
above this, and the Triplum above that (so that the Triplum is always the top line
in the repertoire we are discussing). Instances of a Quadrupla, i.e. a fourth voice
above the Triplum, are rare and are not dealt with here.
60
61
Chapter 5: Transcriptions and Commentary
The following abbreviations are used throughout the transcriptions and
commentaries:
CPI = Cantum pulcriorem invenire conductus. A database of conductus, available at:
F = MS Pluteus 29.1 stored at the Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana.
Available in facsimile: Biblioteca Medicea-Laurenziana. (1966-67) Faksimile-Ausgabe
der Handschrift, Facsimile reproduction of the manuscript Firenze, Biblioteca
Mediceo-Laurenziana, Pluteo 29, 1. 2 volumes. New York: Institute of Mediaeval
Music.
W1 = Cod. Guelf. 628 Helmst., stored at the Herzog August Bibliothek.
Available in online facsimile: http://diglib.hab.de/mss/628-helmst/start.htm
62
Festa ianuaria
folio 80v-81 (73v-74)
W1
8
8
8
-
8
8
8
lu mi
8
8
8
que re
8
8
8
de clar
-
63
Verbum pater exibuit
folio 77-77v (70-70v)
W1
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
64
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
8
65
8
8
8
8
8
8

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