1 Medieval Musical Notes as Cryptography
Elsa De Luca and John Haines
For most of the period of scientific research on medieval music, which is to say the last 200 years or so, the music notation of the Middle Ages has been studied primarily to elucidate, decode, or recreate past performances of songsâfrom the exact pitches of melodies1 to their general outlines,2 from the rhythms used by singers3 to their vocal mannerisms.4 In other words, notation has been treated as the medieval equivalent of a modern score. Seldom have these signs been recognized for what they were in the Middle Ages: not just music notes in the modern sense, but also figurae intended to transmit meanings having little to do with the execution of this or that trope or motet.5 What we might consider the extra meanings of the nota were in fact primary meanings in medieval semiotics, to use an expression favored by Leo Treitler, meanings that ranged from straightforward symbolism to esoteric ciphering.6 True, medieval writers do attest to musical notation being written for the practical purposes usually advocated by musicologists: to cite Guido of Arezzo, so that a âstudious person may learn the chant by means of it.â7 But medieval writers also speak of musical notesâ other functions, of their being shaped after things divine, for example, of individual notes as lacking perfection (perfectio), or of groups of notes as having different kinds of properties (proprietates)âall three citations, incidentally, found in no less obscure a source than Franco of Cologneâs Ars cantus mensurabilis (c. 1270).8 Rather than in some remote medieval corner, then, the âtotal readingâ of the medieval musical note as a fully symbolic and esoteric thing can be found in the mainstream of music writing, and this all through the Middle Ages, from the Carolingian pneuma to Baude Cordierâs heart-shaped puzzle.9
Strongly connected to these âotherâ functions of the nota, musical ciphers of the Middle Ages are regrettably understudied. In this chapter, we begin with a survey of the small body of scholarly literature devoted to the topic, which will help explain exactly why the phenomenon of medieval music ciphers is still relatively unknown. In the second part, we will look at three cases of this writing. Hopefully, future scholars will extend our research on this fascinating medieval phenomenon and, even more hopefully, discover a few more cases of medieval music ciphers. Just how widespread music ciphers were in the Middle Ages, we will never know. Like much secret writing, but unlike the famous deluxe parchment anthologies of the Middle Ages, their written supports were either perishable or never displayed in public, or both, beginning with the ubiquitous medieval wax tablet.10 Ninety-three sources from the Middle Ages are presently known to contain cryptographic neumes, but likely many more than these were written out on perishable supports like wax tablets or parchment rolls that have not survived.11 For the time being, what we know about medieval musical cryptography is confined to Spain, since the vast majority of extant musico-cryptographic writing is found in Visigothic notarial deeds.12
In discussing medieval music ciphers, we must begin with the basic building block of music writing of the Middle Ages: the nota. This term, used often by music writers in the medieval period, retains its basic medieval ambiguity in one of the most famous passages in music history, found in Charlemagneâs Admonitio generalis from 789. âSo as to have a school of literate boys,â Charlemagne writes, âmaintain psalms, notes (notas), songs, computus and grammar in every monastery and restore well the Catholic books.â13 The term notas here may mean âmusical notesâ as usually assumed by music historians, but it could just as easily refer either to the ubiquitous Tironian shorthand notes or to any kind of âsign in writing,â as Paul Dutton translates it.14 In the Middle Ages, the term nota had a very wide semantic field indeed. In practice, medieval notae included rational writing systems such as the Tironian notes, as well as irrational ones. The latter ranged from smaller characteres such as the signs of the Picatrix to full-blown drawings such as the elaborate figurae of the Ars notoria.15 It bears emphasizing that the two basic notae of music, the dot-like punctus and the stroke-like virga, were graphically identical to signs used in other systems of notae, most famously the stroke and dot of Tironian notes. Thus, in the Middle Ages, the musical nota belonged to a large family of notes and, in outward appearance at least, was much like any other medieval nota. Into this multifarious tribe of notae was born the cryptographic neume. To date, a proper study of the musical note in this broader notational context has not yet been undertaken.16
Scholarly Squabbles
As is the case so often in medieval studies, for musical cryptography, we must go back to the work of a handful of late-nineteenth-century researchers. Prominent art historian and director of Madridâs Museo de Reproducciones Artisticas Juan Riaño17 would later claim that Manuel de Goicoechea, a librarian at the Biblioteca de la Real Academia de la Historia in Madrid, first alerted him to the phenomenon around 1860, even though JosĂ© Foradada, head librarian at Toledoâs Archivo y Biblioteca Capitular, was the first to publish on it in 1867.18 Curatorial quibbles aside, Foradadaâs 1867 article, published in the wake of the creation of the Escuela Superior de DiplomĂĄtica in 1856, was a landmark ground-breaking four-page report on a phenomenon that Foradada deemed âof major importanceâ: the presence in certain tenth- to twelfth-century manuscripts housed in the Archivo HistĂłrico Nacional in Madrid of musical notes (âpneumas Ăł signos musicalesâ) used as ciphers.19 Over a decade after the appearance of Foradadaâs four-page notice, in 1881, paleographer JesĂșs Muñoz provided some examples of these curious inscriptions, including the striking cartouche from MS 22 of the Archive of LeĂłn Cathedral (Figure 1.1). Muñoz saw a close resemblance of the musical ciphers to the alphabetic letters of Visigothic script, and he laid out ciphers and letters side by side in a comparative table to demonstrate thisâthe liquescent pes next to the letter L, the torculus next to M, and so on (see Table 1.2 as an example of this).20
It was the aforementioned Riaño who, a few years after this, turned this innocent curiosity about ciphers into a musicological controversy. In the preface and appendix to his Critical and Bibliographical Notes on Early Spanish Music (London, 1887), Riaño built on Foradadaâs suggestion by stating that the ciphers, which were clearly Visigothic music neumes, had in fact originated in alphabet letters, and furthermore that this could be said of Visigothic music notation in general: that the entire Visigothic notational system was based on the alphabet letters of Visigothic script. This in turn demonstrated, Riaño maintained, that the scribes of Spain, but not those of Carolingian France as some of his French academic competitors had claimed, were the creators of the earliest music writing system in the West.21 Riañoâs patriotic declarations had the effect of hijacking the topic of cryptographic neumes in the service of a question that had been preoccupying music historians for decades before him and that has unfortunately continued to do so to the present day: the genesis of music notation in the West. And, as a result of this, the logical step at the time, making a basic tally of the manuscripts that contained these ciphers, was never accomplished since music historians were too busy countering Riañoâs hypothesisâincidentally, neither provable nor disprovableâof the Spanish origins of notation. Making matters worse, the three authors just discussed had only cryptically alluded to the sources they were consulting. In his landmark article, Foradada had mentioned only one manuscript (Archive of LeĂłn Cathedral, MS 22, listed in Table 1.1)22 and Muñoz just spoke of âa codex by Saint Isidore from Leonâ and unspecified âdifferent documents from the tenth to the twelfth centuriesâ23; as for Riaño, the only reference he provided was that his facsimiles were âtaken from documents ⊠existing in the Archivo HistĂłrico, Madrid.â24
The few subsequent publications expended their energies on laying waste to Riañoâs assertion of Spanish primacy. Two years after his Critical and Bibliographical Notes appeared, French monk AndrĂ© Mocquereau refuted Riaño in the first volume of the prestigious PalĂ©ographie musicale (1889). Mocquereau, the scientific leader of the Solesmes chant movement, reproduced the dozen inscriptions straight out of Riañoâs appendixâremarkably for the famously erudite monk, without consulting or even citing the sources themselves.25 And how could he? No one thus far had provided more than one lone manuscript shelf mark!26 Nevertheless, Pothier and Mocquereau were adamant: neumes did not originate in Visigothic letters, and Spain had not created medieval music writing. A few decades later, in a musical paleography handbook widely read at the time, the Montserrat monk Gregorio (GrĂ©goire) Suñol upheld the two French scholarsâ theory of ...