4 The early mass music
Kenneth Kreitner
Later in his career, Anchieta would write one conventional Missa sine nomine, preserved uniquely in Tarazona 2/3; this will be discussed in Chapter 6. His earlier compositions for the Ordinary of the mass do not fall quite so well into our accustomed categories and vocabulary, but do not be confused by the superficially complex picture. Essentially, we have one title for a mass that no longer exists and may never have existed (and may not have been early even if it did exist), a series of individual movements that led a shifting life for a long time, and the intriguing but unprovable possibility of an early plenary mass by our composer.
The Missa Ea judios
We know about the Missa Ea judios (no. 5 in the worklist, Appendix 1) from only one very late source. Francisco de Salinas, in his De musica libri septem, published in 1577, includes a long section on poetic meters in various languages and their musical implications, with musical examples. One of them is a Spanish song on the text “Ea Iudios a enfardelar / Que mandan los Reyes que passeys la mar” (Come, Jews, to be gathered together / for the Monarchs order that you go overseas). Salinas says that it “was commonly sung when the Jews were expelled by the Spaniards” (quae cum ab Hispanis Iudaei fuerunt exterminati, vulgò canebatur), and that “On this tune, Juan de Anchieta, who was not un-famous in his own day, composed a mass” (Ad cuius thema missam Ioannes Ancheta tunc non in celebris symphoneta composuit). The tune is as follows:1
This is all Salinas gives us, and to our eyes today—and probably to his own readers’ eyes in the late sixteenth century—it conjures up an intriguing image: a unified cantus-firmus or paraphrase mass, based on a Spanish secular tune, written by Anchieta at the time of the Jewish expulsion, that is, around 1492, early in his career at court, whether for a state ceremony or merely to please his queen.2 This would be a fascinating (if distasteful) piece of music to have, both for social-historical reasons and because such a mass would be quite unusual for that time and place: the mass Ordinary music from the 1490s that survives in Spanish sources is much dominated by imported cyclic masses and by, from native composers, only single movements, modest ferial masses, and probably a few Missae sine nomine.3 Indeed, I know of only one cyclic mass on a secular tune by a native Spaniard before Peñalosa, namely Johannes Cornago’s Missa Ayo visto lo mappamundi, and it was evidently written off the peninsula, toward the middle of the fifteenth century, in the very different musical environment of Aragonese Naples.4
But what was Salinas actually describing? It is not at all clear. In the first place, he does not say that he has seen this mass himself; indeed, his statement reads more like a legend, a rumor even, than like something familiar at first hand. Nor does he expect his readers to be at all familiar with Anchieta or his music: he feels the need to point out that our composer was “not un-famous” in his day. Nor does he say that the mass was written at the time of the expulsion, only that the tune was popular then (which may be more inference than history); nor does the phrase “ad cuius thema” tell us anything useful about what sort of mass it may have been.
So it is hard to say anything very definite about this mass, and there is some reason to doubt that it was quite as Salinas has led us to imagine, and indeed to wonder whether it ever existed at all. The possibility that Salinas or one of his interlocutors was simply misremembering a different mass—say, Peñalosa’s Missa Por la mar, which is based on a superficially similar triple-meter Spanish tune, also with an apparent seafaring motif5—has occurred to a few of us over the years, but is, of course, pure speculation. And we must remember that a great deal of music has been lost. But in any case, the Missa Ea judios, if it ever did exist, does not exist today.6
The Credo and Gloria in Segovia s.s.
What we do have, and assuredly from the 1490s, are two movements preserved in Segovia s.s.—along, as we have seen in the previous chapters, with a good deal of Anchieta’s other music and copied in 1498 and a little after.7 They are Credo (worklist no. 3) and Gloria (no. 2) with the famous and widely distributed Marian trope “Spiritus et alme orphanorum paraclite” and so forth, both in four voices; they are copied in reverse order and follow a section of one six-voice and seven four-voice masses by Obrecht, Isaac, Josquin, and Pipelare. This is their earliest appearance in a surviving source, and both were copied into other sources later. Table 4.1 gives an overview of their trajectory through the manuscripts.
Table 4.1 The early mass movements in context
The movements have been published at least twice, by Higinio Anglés in the first volume of Monumentos de la Música Española8 and by Samuel Rubio in his Opera Omnia edition for Anchieta,9 both times after Tarazona 2/3. Examples 4.2 and 4.3 show their openings, which will give an idea of the general style of these movements from the 1490s.
I have essentially two things to say about them. The first is that while they are substantial pieces of music, the Credo about 200 bars long and the Gloria about 250, there is something prosaic about them, even for a Gloria and a Credo, which admittedly do not always bring out the poet in a composer. Each phrase of text is given its own treatment, whether full imitation, voice pairs, or homophony, and then he moves on to the next one; occasionally, as in bar 13 of the Credo and the very end of the Gloria example, he dovetails them just a bit, but normally one phrase just stops dead and the next one starts up, with little effort to build coherence as things progress. Variety he gets, and a certain clarity, and in the Gloria he gets a loose paraphrase of Gregorian Gloria 9, but in the end, both movements register less as carefully crafted works of large-scale rhetoric than as breathless paragraphs of one short sentence after another.
And the other is that they were not meant to go together. Their clefs and ranges are compatible, but they are in two different keys, they are in reverse order, and they are separately attributed, with the composer’s name spelled differently, “Johañes Anxeta” for the Credo, “Jo. Ancheta” for the Gloria. The Segovia scribe had an orderly plan for this manuscript (see Chapter 2), and it seems clear that he meant these two movements as a Spanish analogue to the sixty-some folios of impressive northern mass cycles that precede them; but he appears to have been at pains to present them to us as individual movements and not as a mass pair. The message here (and other sources bear it out, despite the looming of the Missa Ea judios) seems to be that as late as 1498, Spanish musicians admired the northern cyclic mass and were curious about it, but were generally writing only single movements themselves.10
The Missa de nostra Dona of Barcelona 454
The Missa de nostra Dona in Barcelona 454 is a complex case and, in the end, an equivocal one. It is a plenary mass, with four ordinary movements and five propers, copied into its source between 1500 and 1520, and edited by Emilio Ros-Fábregas, first in his doctoral dissertation of 1992, and more recently in a separate publication.11 The mass is anonymous and unidentified on the page; it gets its Catalan title from the tabla to a portion of the manuscript, which makes a good place to start. Its first several items may be transcribed as follows:12
Most, though not all, of the works are given composer attributions; the mass has none, but it is followed (in the tabla, though not in the manuscript itself as it currently stands13) by a Salve Regina setting attributed, correctly, to Anchieta. Now normally this sort of proximity makes an unpersuasive argument for a composer attribution, but in this one case, there is additional cause for suspicion: its troped Gloria (worklist no. 2) is the same as the one given to Anchieta in Segovia s.s., and its troped Kyrie—as we shall see in the next section—is attributed to him in Tarazona 2/3. So, (a) at least two movements of this mass are by Anchieta, which raises the possibilities (b) that there are others that we do not otherwise know about, and even (c) that the whole mass is by Anchieta and the attribution after the Salve Regina was meant to apply to the plenary Marian mass and the Marian antiphon together, as a pair, intended for the Marian services performed in many Spanish churches on Saturdays.14
The nine movements of the Missa de nostra Dona are in various keys, as is to be expected in music derived (as we shall see) from different chant sources; such is in fact routine in BVM masses.15 More significantly, all nine are, with a few minor local variations, in MTTB clefs, so that in the practical sense it is a unified mass, presumably meant to be done by all the same choir even if at least one movement is older. We need, then, to look at all the movements, starting with the two explicitly attributed to Anchieta. (The Credo from Segovia s.s., incidentally, is not here in the Missa de nostra Dona, apparently because Credos in Spain at this time were sung only on Sundays and certain feast days,16 which may, in turn, suggest that the work was prepared for a particular occasion and not as a generic all-purpose Marian mass.)
The Gloria is, again, the movement (worklist no. 2) that appeared in Segovia s.s. in c1498, with the Marian trope “Spiritus et alme” and so on, and as we saw in Example 4.3, it is written in a style that divides the text into discrete phrases, then gives each phrase its own musical treatment, whether imitative or non-imitative counterpoint, voice pairs, or declamatory homophony, with a bit of dovetailing of phrases here and there but more often a full stop as an old phrase ends and a new one begins. Compared with the rest of the Missa de nostra Dona, it is thinly textured, quite generous with the rests in all four parts.
Before the Gloria is a Kyrie with the “Rex virginum” trope (worklist no. 1), anonymous here but attributed to Anchieta later in Tarazona 2/3. I take it for a genuine work, and suspect the reason it is not in Segovia is that it had not been written by 1498.17 The first of its three sections appears as Example 4.4. It is actually the tropes that are set polyphonically; Kyrie–Christe–Kyrie is elaborated to Father–Son–Holy Spirit, and each is tied to the Virgin. All three sections work basically like this one: the top line uses Gregorian Kyrie 4 as a semibreve cantus firmus,18 very lightly elaborated, with vorimitation at the beginning but thereafter dense non-imitative counterpoint, with few rests, very different from the phrasey spaciousness of the Gloria and the Segovia Credo.
These are the two movements that we know are by Anchieta, but what about the rest of the mass? The introit, Salve sancta parens (worklist no. 21), is based on the Gregorian introit used for feasts of the Blessed Virgin today; the chant and the movement are in D,19 and the mass sets only the antiphon portion of the introit, “[Salve] sancta … regit in saeculorum,” omitting the alleluia and the psalm (Example 4.5). The chant is put again into a semibreve cantus firmus,20 once more only very lightly elaborated, in the top line, and the lower lines support it with non-imitative polyphony even denser than in the Kyrie—there are only seven beats of rest in all four parts.
Next are the two ordinary movements that we just saw. The Kyrie is also in D and is quite similar in style to the introit, and, in fact, by what must have been at least a happy coincidence, the opening of its model, Kyrie 4, bears more than a passing resemblance to the chant under “sancta parens,” creating the effect of a head-motive, further uniting the two movements. After that is the Gloria, in G with a flat and very distinct in style from the previous two.
The gradual, Benedicta et venerabilis (worklist no. 22), in E, is based on the gradual chant still in use for feasts of the Virgin;21 at the opening (Example 4.6), we see again the chant as basically a semibreve cantus firmus in the top line, though less strictly treated than in the introit and Kyrie, with frequent bits of paraphrase, and below it, dense polyphony by the other voices, though with moments of imitation (e.g. m. 10 ff.); the second part of the response, after the example ends, becomes more spacious for a while, with a TB voice pair answered by an SA voice pair, and then some more dense polyphony at the end.
For the verse (Example 4.7), the composer changes tack entirely, going into triple meter, dropping down to three voices (SAB), and putting the cantus firmus, quite loosely paraphrased, into the altus; for the last two words, “factus homo,” the tenor comes back in and the meter returns to duple, preparing for the repetition of the respond.
The Alleluia: Dulcis mater (worklist no. 23) is a curious case. It takes its tune not from any of the Marian alleluias, but from that currently assigned to the Finding of the Holy Cross,22 and its text is a contrafactum of the Holy Cross text: “Dulce lignum, dulces clavos, dulcia ferens pondera” is changed to “Dulcis mater, dulcis nato, dulcia ubera,” and “quae sola fuisti digna sustinere regem caelorum et Dominum” to “quae sola fuisti digna generare regem caelorum et Dominum.”23 The Holy Cross tune is paraphrased vigorously in the superius, and it is broken into several distinct stylistic sections:
| Alleluia. | ¢, SA duet, moving quickly in largely minims. |
| Alleluia. | ¢, a 4, more expansive, mostly in breves and semibreves. |
| Alleluia. | ¢3, a 4, in non-imitative counterpoint, mostly breves and semibreves (but quicker than before because of the meter change). |
| Dulcis mater, dulcis nato, dulcia ubera: quae sola fuisti digna generare regem caelorum … | ¢, another SA duet, also moving quickly, largely in semibreves, minims, and semiminims, in non-imitative counterpoint. |
| … et Dominum. | ¢, a 4, in expansive breves and semibreves; then into ¢3, in faster semibreves, for a rousing triple-meter finish. |
Example 4.8 shows the end of the verse, featuring three of the styles that the composer employs—the quick duo, the expansive full choir, and the climactic triple-meter end.
The offertory, Felix namque es (worklist no. 24), is taken from the offertory currently in the Vatican editions for Marian masses on Saturday from Christmas to the Purification24—which may be a clue to the mass’s possible occasion. It too is a mixed bag, changing styles and textures phrase-by-phrase, sometimes word-by-word:
The Sanctus (worklist no. 25), in D, is divided into the four conventional parts (five with the repeat of the Hosanna). As Example 4.9 shows, it is quite different from the movements we have seen so far: it appears to have a tenor cantus firmus, as yet unidentified, moving mostly in breves and underlined by vorimitation in the superius; in m. 13, this gives way to a more freely contrapuntal tenor line, but the tune comes back in the Hosanna (in the altus voice, on A instead of D), suggesting that this movement comes from a mass based on an external tune. The other extraordinary feature of this section is the syncopated opening duo, in dotted notes within the prevailing O meter, blurring the meter thoroughly until the lower voices enter in m. 5.
The Pleni drops down to three voices, SAB, in active, sometimes imitative polyphony; the Hosanna is much like the example in texture, except that the cantus firmus is in the altus and is treated strictly all the way through (though the altus and tenor are in the same clef and cross several times); and the Benedictus is active again, starting out with a long AB duo, the other voices joining in on “in nomine.” The altus in the Hosanna—and no other voice, or section—is troped, “Osanna Pater per omnia qui continent polum et arva” (Hosanna, O Father, for all things that the celestial vault and the earth contain), words which can also be found in a fifteenth-century Spanish gradual, where, though not mentioning the Virgin in themselves, they are a small part of a long Marian trope to the Hosanna, with the rubric “De Beata Maria, in diebus sabbatis et in festivitatibus.”26 The melody in the Missa de nostra Dona is very similar to that in this earlier source—for this section only, not the Sanctus and Pleni—which may mean this movement itself was put together from disparate bits.
There is only one Agnus (worklist no. 26) in the Missa de nostra Dona, in triple meter throughout, in F with a flat. As Example 4.10 shows, it again appears initially to be built over a tenor cantus firmus, which looks for a moment like Regina caeli,27 which would, of course, be appropriate for a Marian mass, but the notes after m. 7 do not follow the antiphon recognizably. This tune is given first in strict dotted breves in mm. 1–10, and from m. 12 onward, it is manipulated in various playful ways, always keeping an audible emphasis on the F-G-F-G-A combination.
Finally, the communion, Beata viscera (worklist no. 27), returns to the communion text and melody in the standard mass for Marian feasts.28 After an intonation in black notation, the chant tune is paraphrased in mostly semibreves and bounced between the tenor and superius—tenor for “Mariae Virginis,” superius for “quae portaverunt,” tenor for “aeterni Patris,” and so forth—with a fair amount of imitation and active counterpoint around it (Example 4.11).
What, then, to make of the Missa de nostra Dona? It is indeed an enigma, in part because there is no other plenary mass from Spain at this time to compare it with. Three things can be said with reasonable certainty: that it was copied as a performable unit; that the Kyrie and Gloria, at least, led separable lives and are by Anchieta; and that the Gloria, at least, was written before the end of the fifteenth century. Beyond that, the general disunity of the movements (clefs aside) suggests that, like various other Marian masses of this era,29 it was assembled piecemeal, a combination of new material and, if I may gently abuse the art-historical term, found objects, and the pragmatic logic of the situation suggests that ordinary movements are more likely to be the found objects and propers are more likely to be written for the occasion: there are likely to be more Sanctuses lying around than, say, settings of Felix namque.
Much in the music supports this view. I believe the Gloria, which appears as a single movement in Segovia s.s., was a found object, and I believe the Sanctus and Agnus, which seem to be based on tenor cantus firmi not obviously related to the rest of the mass, were found objects too. (Remember also the suspicious intrusion of the trope in the Hosanna.) It is impossible to say where they came from and why they were used particularly, though the resemblance of the cantus firmus of the Agnus to Regina caeli may have made it a tempting target for inclusion in a Marian mass. On the other side, I believe that the introit, gradual, and communion were written for this specific plenary mass; their dense polyphonic style and reliance on a soprano cantus firmus draws them very comfortably together. And the alleluia and offertory fall somewhere in between, shifting their styles constantly in a way that makes them hard to call for either side.
This leaves one puzzle: the Kyrie, an ordinary movement that is stylistically closer to the propers than to the other ordinaries. Possibly it too preexisted, and whoever wrote the propers wrote them to match it (which would not be terribly hard to do); or it is equally possible, and maybe even a little more plausible, that the Kyrie too was written for this mass specifically and broke off later. If so, then since we know the Kyrie is elsewhere attributed to Anchieta, the introit, gradual, and communion would be his too, and from there it is not hard to imagine him writing the whole thing. Without an ascription it is impossible to be sure, but the idea of Anchieta, assigned one year to produce a Marian mass for a Saturday between Christmas and Purification (i.e. January, plus a little on either side), taking some of his own existing movements and filling in the blanks, is an attractive one. And it is worth noticing that these movements, for all their variety, have the look of music self-consciously composed by someone wanting to make a particular statement; they are far from the generic simplicity of most of the other anonymous sacred music in their sources.
If so, then the Missa de nostra Dona would add as many as seven movements to Anchieta’s worklist, probably written sometime between 1498 and his departure for Flanders, and its new musical worlds, in 1504. And even if all this music is not by Anchieta, it is still a fascinating relic of a transitional point in the development of the Spanish mass, when they were drawn to the cyclic mass but weren’t quite ready to give up on the individual movements they had already produced.
The composite masses in Tarazona 2/3 and Coimbra 12
The Kyrie from Barcelona 454, the Credo from Segovia s.s., and the Gloria from both appear together, along with a Sanctus and Agnus by Pedro de Escobar, in a composite Missa de nuestra Señora in Tarazona 2/3.30 We shall be looking at Tarazona 2/3 in more depth in later chapters: it is the largest and central source of Spanish church polyphony of this era, and its repertory is the background for most of what anyone says about sacred music in Spain during the time of the Catholic Monarchs. Important parts of its repertory have strong connections to Seville, and it may even have been copied there.31 The problem is that it gives no clear clue to its date. Over the years I have tended to think of it as representing the 1520s, when its major composers were nearing the ends of their careers, but, recently, Emilio Ros-Fábregas has suggested that it may, in fact, be a later retrospective, copied from books that were no longer usable.32 In any case, its entire repertory appears to represent the era before the rise of music printing and of, for example, Cristóbal de Morales.
Tarazona 2/3 contains two composite masses, masses in which the various movements are ascribed to different composers. Both are labeled Missa de nuestra Señora in the tabla at the beginning of the manuscript, and both have Marian tropes in their Kyries and Glorias. One has a Kyrie by Escobar, a Gloria and a Credo by Peñalosa, a Sanctus by Alonso Pérez de Alba, and an Agnus by Pedro Hernández.33 The other is our province here: it adds no novel music to Anchieta’s worklist, though remember, it is the only source for the attribution of the Kyrie.
For a long time it was informally supposed that the mass represented a genuine collaboration of the two eminent composers when they were both serving at the Castilian royal chapel in the 1490s.34 In recent years, however, this pleasing notion has fallen steadily apart. Certainly the presence of the three Anchieta movements in other contexts suggests, as we have seen, that they were written separately, and they are separated further from the Escobar movements by clefs and tessituras, if not by absolute ranges. And most recently, the major premise has crumbled too: the royal singer of the 1490s who we thought was Escobar proves to be a different person.35
So we are left to conclude that this mass36 is not a composers’ collaboration but a scribal confection, put together by either the Tarazona scribe or one of his predecessors from freely circulating mass movements, some of them (maybe all) quite old by that time, in a later era when five-movement masses were the norm.37
Finally, Anchieta’s Credo from Segovia and Tarazona 2/3 appears in one more composite mass, this one in the Portuguese manuscript Coimbra 12, copied at the Monastery of Santa Cruz in Coimbra in the 1540s or early 1550s—long, in other words, after Anchieta’s death in 1523.38 Coimbra 12 preserves a fair amount of what Owen Rees has labeled the “Spanish court repertory,” chiefly concordances to Tarazona 2/3,39 and this is one of its most remarkable examples, or semi-examples. The Kyrie, Gloria, and Agnus are thematically related to one another and appear to come out of the same, rather distinguished and elegant, mass, probably by a northern composer of the late fifteenth century; the Sanctus is not obviously related to the others but is in the same general style;40 there is a three-voice alleluia, apparently unrelated; and Anchieta’s Credo is in the middle of it all. The Kyrie 1 (Example 4.12) will perhaps give an idea of the manner of music that the Coimbra scribe pairs with Anchieta.
It is a little hard to fathom how the Anchieta got in there—whether the northern cycle was missing its Credo and Anchieta’s was handy to substitute, or whether someone actually preferred it to what was already there. The six movements are in compatible ranges, and all are in an E mode, so it gives the impression of being, if not completely unified in style, at least well planned for practical performance. Perhaps most important for the present purpose, the Coimbra mass shows that the practice of putting together quasi-cyclic masses from existing movements continued in Portugal well into the sixteenth century; that the compiler and later users of Coimbra 12 still had a use for some music of the previous century; and that Anchieta’s Credo was evidently still fashionable enough to deserve a very beautiful copying job twenty years after his death and perhaps fifty years after it was written.
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To recapitulate: we have three mass Ordinary movements—a troped Kyrie, a troped Gloria, and a Credo—attributed somewhere to Juan de Anchieta. At least the Gloria and Credo, very possibly all three, represent the dominant Spanish tradition of the 1490s, when composers were largely writing individual mass movements rather than complete mass cycles.41 But they were sung for a long time thereafter, and their repeated appearances in later manuscripts give us a welcome window into the ways Spanish musicians found to keep these old pieces alive even in the age of the unified cyclic mass.
The most straightforward case is that of the Marian masses in Tarazona 2/3; here, it seems clear, someone simply assembled two new “cycles” from parts already in existence, possibly without even intending them to be performed as such.42 A bit more complicated and puzzling is the Coimbra 12 mass, in which at least three of the other ordinary movements evidently come from the same mass, and Anchieta’s Credo was, for some reason, stuck—or tossed—in.
And the Missa de nostra Dona in Barcelona 454 is the most intriguing case of all: it gives some evidence of being a deliberate, reasonably unified creation, but a creation that incorporated at least one found movement, and almost certainly more, at the time of its construction—something like those buildings in Barcelona that show bits of the old Roman wall in their foundations. It is an ambitious work, grand in scope and sometimes dazzling in details; even though it happens to be anonymous (sort of) in its only source, it is clearly the work of a powerful and advanced musical mind. Did this mind belong to Anchieta himself? As I say, he would seem to be the odds-on favorite, if only because self-plagiarism seems more likely in a work like this than plagiarism, twice, of somebody else. But again, it is risky to rest much weight on it without an attribution.
In any case, the three secure single movements, and the masses they appeared in, are a rich token of the fluidity of the mass in Anchieta’s time, and for quite a while thereafter. Even in a time of dramatic change, both structurally, from the single movement to the mature mass cycle, and stylistically, from blocky word-orientation to northern-style imitative polyphony, these early works remained current enough to be copied and sung half a century after they were written.
Notes
1 Example and quotations from Francisco [de] Salinas, De musica (Salamanca: Gastius, 1577, rept. Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1958, ed. Macario Santiago Kastner), book 6, chapter 7, p. 312. See also Arthur Michael Daniels, “The De musica libri VII of Francisco de Salinas” (PhD diss., University of Southern California, 1962), 455–56 and 468, and Francisco [de] Salinas, Siete libros sobre la música, trans. Ismael Fernández de la Cuesta (Madrid: Alpuerto, 1983), 541–42. The original, like most of Salinas’s examples, is on a three-line staff (C clef in the middle in this case), without barlines or meter; spellings here are his, not modernized.
2 For example, Robert Stevenson, Spanish Music in the Age of Columbus (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1960), 128: “c.1492[:] Composes a mass based on a popular ditty, Ea iudios a enfardelar, now lost but known to have existed in 1577 when Salinas made allusion to it.”
3 Kenneth Kreitner, “Spain Discovers the Mass,” Journal of the Royal Musical Association 139 (2014): 261–302.
4 Rebecca Gerber, ed., Johannes Cornago: Complete Works, Recent Researches in the Music of the Middle Ages and Early Renaissance 15 (Madison, WI: A-R Editions, 1984), xvii–xi, 1–35; Allan W. Atlas, Music at the Aragonese Court of Naples (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 62–69; Alejandro Planchart, “Music in the Christian Courts of Spain,” in Carol E. Robertson, ed., Musical Repercussions of 1492: Encounters in Text and Performance (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992), 149–66; and Kenneth Kreitner, The Church Music of Fifteenth-Century Spain, Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Music 2 (Woodbridge Boydell, 2004), 62–65. The mass does not survive in any Iberian source, only in Trent 88 and (anonymously and incomplete) in the Strahov codex. On the potentially parallel case of Enrique Tich and his Marian mass, see Juan Ruiz Jiménez, La librería de canto de órgano: Creación y pervivencia del repertorio del Renacimiento en la actividad musical de la catedral de Sevilla (Granada: Junta de Andalucía, 2007), 169–71, and idem, “‘The Sounds of the Hollow Mountain’: Musical Tradition and Innovation in Seville Cathedral in the Early Renaissance,” Early Music History 29 (2010): 189–239, at 216–17.
5 The best account of the Missa Por la mar is in María Elena Cuenca Rodríguez, “Francisco de Peñalosa (ca. 1470–1528) y las misas en sus distintos contextos” (PhD diss., Universidad Complutense de Madrid, 2017), especially section 3.4.3.
6 For two other recent views on the Missa Ea judios: Juan Ruiz Jiménez, in “Cathedral Soundscapes: Some New Perspectives,” in Tess Knighton, ed., Companion to Music in the Age of the Catholic Monarchs (Leiden: Brill, 2016), 242–81 at 269–70, has no trouble believing that the Missa Ea judios was a cyclic mass written around 1492, but Javier Pino Alcón, in “Juan de Anchieta: La construcción historiográfica de un músico del Renacimiento” (undergraduate thesis, Universidad Complutense de Madrid, 2016), 10–11, shares some of my skepticism of Salinas’s testimony.
7 On the dating and origin of Segovia s.s., see Chapter 2.
8 Higinio Anglés, ed., La música en la Corte de los Reyes Católicos, I: Polifonía religiosa, Monumentos de la Música Española 1 (Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1941, 2/1960), hereafter abbreviated to MME 1, 47–54 (Credo) and 38–46 (Gloria).
9 Samuel Rubio, ed., Juan de Anchieta: Opera Omnia (Guipuzcoa: Caja de Ahorros Provincial de Guipuzcoa, 1980), 65–77 (Credo) and 50–65 (Gloria).
10 I expand on this thought more fully in Kreitner, “Spain Discovers the Mass,” especially 294–97; see also, more recently, Ruiz Jiménez, “Cathedral Soundscapes.”
11 Emilio Ros-Fábregas, “The Manuscript Barcelona, Biblioteca de Catalunya, M. 454: Study and Edition in the Context of the Iberian and Continental Manuscript Traditions,” 2 vols. (PhD diss., City University of New York, 1992), II: 98–138. See also I: 100–02 on the dating of section 454/B, and I: 299–303 for his commentary on this mass in particular. And idem, ed., Juan de Anchieta: Missa de Nostra Dona: Salve Regina (Barcelona: Tritó, 2015).
12 On the tabla, its details, its significance, and the various problems attending it (which do not affect us here), Ros-Fábregas, “Manuscript Barcelona,” I: 39–41 (with a facsimile on p. 41), 49–51, 84–88, et passim.
13 The mass is number 9 in Ros-Fábregas’s inventory, and the Salve Regina is number 12; they are interrupted by Busnoys’s Missa L’homme armé and a fragment of a Josquin Gloria, as explained in ibid., I: 134–36. The Salve is attributed to “Johannes Anxeta” on its first page, f. 60v.
14 For example, from Palencia, Cathedral Archive, Arm.7, leg.1, no. 15 (1513): “Yten los Reverendos dean y cabildo nuestros hermanos an de dezir ally cada sabado de mañana vna mysa cantada con sus organos A nuestra Señora e an de estar a ello con sus habytos los benefiçiados … Yten an de dezir en el mysmo Altar los dichos Reverendos Dean y cabildo nuestros hermanos vna Salue Cantada Solempne con sus organos...” (Item, the Reverend dean and chapter our brothers are to celebrate there every Saturday a sung Mass to Our Lady with organ and the benefice-holders are to be present in their robes according to the time and distribution shared among them, and only those present are to receive this and no other... Item, the said Reverend dean and chapter our brothers are also to celebrate there a solemn sung Salve with organ...) I am grateful to Tess Knighton for supplying this document.
15 The five movements of Josquin’s Missa de Beata Virgine, for example, are in G with a flat, G without, E without, C with a flat, and C without.
16 Ros-Fábregas, Anchieta: Missa de Nostra Dona, 21 n. 9.
17 See Kreitner, Church Music, 108–14.
18 Liber Usualis, 25.
19 Liber Usualis, 1263–64; the bass line, but no other, has a flat in the key signature.
20 Semibreves, that is, in their effect: they are actually breves in the manuscript—in other words, the first notes of polyphony in the superius are breves, but those of the altus and tenor, which are the same length in performance, are written as semibreves—so that the superius is quartered in this transcription and the others halved.
21 Liber Usualis, 1264–65; the model for this polyphonic version must have had a few small differences.
22 Liber Usualis, 1456.
23 An anonymous alleluia with very similar text—though the contrafactum is so direct that it may yet be a coincidence—is found in Trent 88: see Rebecca L. Gerber, ed., Sacred Music from the Cathedral at Trent: Trent, Museo provinciale d’arte, Codex 1375 (olim 88), Monuments of Renaissance Music 12 (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press, 2007), no. 118.
24 Liber Usualis, 1271. The mass movement is evidently based on a similar but not identical version of the chant.
25 The text underlay in the manuscript is not altogether clear here.
26 Marco Gozzi, “Repertori trascurati di canto liturgico / Neglected Repertories of Liturgical Chant,” Polifonie 2 (2002): 107–74, at 148–49 (for the musical edition) and 170–73 (for the English translation and commentary). His source is Trent, Biblioteca musicale L. Feininger, FC 92, ff. 244v–246v. Barcelona 454 has “eterva” for the last word, which makes no sense and must be the result of scribal bafflement; I am grateful to Leofranc Holford-Strevens for his aid in sorting this section out.
27 Both versions of this Marian antiphon, Liber Usualis, 275 and 278, begin with the same F-G-F-G-A motif.
28 Liber Usualis, 1268. Note also that the edition in Ros-Fábregas, “Manuscript Barcelona,” II: 135–36, transcribes the intonation a second too low: the pitches should be (as in the chant) D-F-F-E, and so forth.
29 For example, on Josquin’s Missa de Beata Virgine, see David Fallows, Josquin (Turnhout: Brepols, 2009), 314, and Richard Sherr, “Notes on Two Roman Manuscripts of the Early Sixteenth Century,” Musical Quarterly 63 (1977): 48–73, at 59 and 66.
30 The whole mass is edited in MME 1, 35–61. Strictly speaking, Anchieta’s name appears only at the head of the Kyrie, and Escobar’s at the head of the Sanctus.
31 Juan Ruiz Jiménez, “Infunde amorem cordibus: An Early 16th-Century Polyphonic Hymn Cycle from Seville,” Early Music 33 (2005): 619–38; idem, La librería de canto de órgano, Chapter 2; and idem, “‘Sounds of the Hollow Mountain’.”
32 My own previous thinking on the manuscript is summarized in Kreitner, Church Music, Chapter 9; on the retrospective hypothesis, see Emilio Ros-Fábregas, “Manuscripts of Polyphony from the Time of Isabel and Ferdinand,” in Tess Knighton, Companion to Music in the Age of the Catholic Monarchs, 404–68, especially 446–51. For more literature on this important source, see Chapter 6.
33 See Mary Carrigan Carter, “The Missa de Nuestra Señora of Escobar, Peñalosa, Hernandes, and Alba: The Evolution of the Composite Mass in Spain c1500” (MM thesis, University of Memphis, 2007); Ruiz, “‘The Sounds of the Hollow Mountain’,” 231–32; and Cuenca, “Peñalosa y las misas,” especially section 3.6.
34 For example, Stevenson, Spanish Music, 170.
35 Pedro de Porto, who sang in Isabel’s chapel from 1489 until 1499 (see Knighton, Música y músicos, 193–94, 330), was thought to be the same man, under a toponymic, as Pedro de Escobar; the reasoning is explained by Stevenson in Spanish Music, 169–70. The identity of these two musicians was questioned, however, by Ruiz in Librería de canto de órgano, 84–88, and later demolished by Francesc Villanueva Serrano in “La identificación de Pedro de Escobar con Pedro de Porto: Una revisión a la luz de nuevos datos,” Revista de Musicología 34 (2011): 37–58.
36 And, incidentally, the other one too: see Carter, “The Missa de Nuestra Señora,” and Cuenca, “Peñalosa y las misas,” section 3.6.
37 Kreitner, “Spain Discovers the Mass,” 266–69.
38 Owen Rees, Polyphony in Portugal, c. 1530–c. 1620: Sources from the Monastery of Santa Cruz, Coimbra (New York: Garland, 1995), 185–94, esp. 193.
39 Ibid., 413–29.
40 Rob Wegman, in an e-mail of 4 March 2012, described the Kyrie to me as “the kind of writing you’d expect a Franco-Flemish composer to have written in the 1480s,” and I concur. I am grateful to Bernadette Nelson and the Portuguese Early Music Database (PEM) for their assistance in letting me see their photographs of the manuscript pages.
41 For more examples and discussion, see Kreitner, “Spain Discovers the Mass.”
42 The same argument is made, for example, for the famous Missa de Barcelona of the late fourteenth or early fifteenth century: see in particular M.ª Carmen Gómez Muntané, “El manuscrito M 971 de la Biblioteca de Catalunya (Misa de Barcelona),” Butlletí de la Biblioteca de Catalunya 10 (1982–84): 159–290; eadem, “Quelques remarques sur le répertoire sacré de l’Ars nova provenant de l’ancien royaume d’Aragon,” Acta Musicologica 57 (1985): 166–79; and Kreitner, Church Music, 15–16.