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Parler de partitions musicales et choregraphiques, qu’on les considere ensemble ou separement, conduit inevitablement a soulever des questions sur les representations textuelles tres inegales, ayant evolue au cours du temps, qui tentent de saisir le son, la parole, le geste et le mouvement. En musique, la partition commence des que sont notes des signes accompagnant le texte liturgique, representant les gestes faits par les chanteurs d’un chœur pour maintenir leurs voix a l’unisson (fig. 1). ...

As pieces designed for vocal performance, secular genres such as the French chanson and Italian madrigal often record vernacular accents, dialects, and sounds excluded from literary and scientific ...

This chapter examines the reactions of a Lyonnais merchant, Benoist Rigaud, to the climax of religious violence in his city. Lyon was one such place: a city with a vocal Protestant constituency supported economically by healthy trade and intellectually by nearby Geneva. Rigaud printed up pamphlets that functioned as public statements of celebration or mourning by commemorating special occasions such as royal entries, weddings, or funerals. Lyon supported a large population of printers, from enterprising merchant-publishers such as Antoine Vincent and publisher-printers such as Rigaud and Saugrin to the master craftsmen and printers' journeymen who ran the presses. Merchants and bourgeois in late sixteenth-century Lyon did not claim enough power against public authority to garner control in the public sphere. Romans, Valence, and Chateaudouble all lay within fifty miles of Lyon, which sat at the northern tip of Dauphine.

A substantial collection of Cinque- and Seicento prints lies hidden in the Museo Internazionale e Biblioteca della Musica in Bologna. Practically unknown to scholars, at 274 titles it is among the largest collections dating from the Renaissance. The fortunate series of events that account for its survival are retraced, beginning with its formation c. 1580 and its purchase by Padre Giambattista Martini (1706–84) from the Pagliarini booksellers in Rome with the aid of Girolamo Chiti, and ending with its partial dispersion in the nineteenth century. A complete index of the collection is included, together with a list of the unica.

Leonardo da Vinci famously characterized music as “giving shape … to invisible things”;1 the authors of these three essays on recent trends in the study of music illuminate a range of scholarly strategies that interpret and render meaningful the fleeting sounds of music. Two of the essays, by Elizabeth Eva Leach and Kate van Orden, trace some ramifications of the cultural turn in music research. As in other humanistic disciplines, musicologists are opening new lines of inquiry that apply approaches from gender theory and psychoanalysis. As well, they pose questions about the status of the composed work versus musical improvisation, and other inquiries focus on popular repertories and music of the New World. David Fallows draws attention to the impact that performers and their choice of repertory have had on scholarly agendas, and takes into account the impact of recording technology. He further addresses evolving standards for critical editions, as does van Orden, who notes the particular advantages for music of a gradual move from fixed editions on paper to more dynamic virtual editions. All three authors note and assess the impact of technological developments on current research. Elizabeth Eva Leach, whose Guillaume de Machaut: Secretary, Poet, Musician received the 2012 Phyllis Goodhart Gordan Book Prize from the Renaissance Society of America, focuses her essay around four central issues in the study of fourteenth-century music. First, the incorporation of interdisciplinary approaches from history, literature, and the visual arts proves crucial in creating a richer understanding of musical life. A second approach pays fresh attention to the context of musical works within manuscripts, rather than extracting works for modern editions that arrange them by genre. The third area involves geography: a new awareness of the fluidity with which music and musicians crossed borders has opened new perspectives on the porous boundaries between French and Italian spheres of music making and on musical life in Eastern Europe. Finally, online resources allow scholars more ready access to work from other disciplines and across geographical boundaries. These approaches should encourage greater integration of music and its social functions in studies of history and culture of the fourteenth century. David Fallows is the author of foundational studies of central composers of the fifteenth century, and he is one of the preeminent scholars of fifteenth-century music.2 He surveys changing standards and ideals for the preparation of critical editions of music, as well as the impact of performers and the recording industry in shaping topics for research. As a scholar who has actively collaborated with performers on various recording projects over the past forty years, he offers well-informed insights about the advantages of active cooperation between performers and scholars. His essay outlines general trends in research and performance during the past several decades, but he refrains from providing specific citations. Kate van Orden’s Music, Discipline, and Arms in Early Modern France received the 2006 Lewis Lockwood Award from the American Musicological Society, and her most recent book is Music, Authorship, and the Book in the First Century of Print. While noting that archival and source studies continue as a vital component of musicological study for sixteenth-century music, she focuses on new developments in four areas of research: improvisation, histories of singers and singing, new approaches to the study of music in the New World, and the impact of digital technology on editing of music. She points to the reevaluation of established composers and written repertories in the light of new inquiries into oral practices, and she cites some recorded performances that put improvisation into practice. These new lines of inquiry challenge traditional hierarchies of scholarship on music and suggest more nuanced interactions between oral and written practices. Music’s “invisible things,” and the related issues and questions that they pose for scholars, continue to stimulate tangible and imaginative research in this lively field, as these essays abundantly demonstrate.

Around 1600, students in France learnt to read with printed primers. They began with the letters of the alphabet, learning them by playing with little wooden or cardboard tablets or picking them out of books, and then moved on to syllables, which were learnt from syllabaries printed in large letters and containing the Pater noster, Ave Maria, Credo, Confiteor and the Benedicite. When they began to spell out whole words, children moved on to another syllabary containing the Magnificat, the Nunc Dimittis, Salve Regina, the Seven Penitential Psalms and the litanies of the Saints, all of them common prayers. Two pages from Jacques Cossard's Methodes pour apprendre a lire, a escripre, chanter le plain chant, et compter (Paris, 1633) can give us some idea of what these early modern primers looked like (see Figures 1–2). In the first lesson the text of the Pater noster is broken into syllables, whereas in the second lesson the students must discern the syllables of the Ave Maria themselves, a task aided by the small numbers Cossard has placed beneath the text to show how many letters should be read together as a syllable.

The present issue of Journal of Musicology is the first of two containing articles from the ‘‘International Conference on the Italian Madrigal, 1550–1610, and 70th Birthday Celebration for Anthony Newcomb,’’ which was held at the Doreen B. Townsend Center for the Humanities at the University of California, Berkeley, 9–10 November 2011. Generous funding for the conference was provided by the Dean of Humanities, the Department of Music, the Department of Italian Studies, the History of Art Department, and the Townsend Center for the Humanities at the University of California, Berkeley, and these sponsors should be thanked at the outset, for without their support, this remarkable gathering of scholars from across Europe and the United States would not have been possible. The foregoing list of backers will include surprises for those who do not know some details of Tony Newcomb’s long and distinguished career. A virtual California native, in 1949 Tony moved with his family from New York City to the Bay Area, where as a youngster he studied with Darius Milhaud, by then at Mills College. Not wanting to play favorites when it came time for university, he attended both Stanford University (1958–1959) and the University of California, Berkeley (BA 1962). He took his PhD at Princeton University in 1969, having already landed a premier position at Harvard University the year before, but by 1973 he was back at Berkeley, an institution to which he has remained staunchly loyal. Alongside his invaluable teaching and mentoring, his contributions to the university include helping to found the Italian Studies Department in 1984; serving as Dean of Arts and Humanities from 1990 to 1998, when he saw the College of Letters and Sciences through a period of great transformation; and chairing both the Department of Music and the History of Art Department. In addition to his national honors—including election to the American Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1992 and an honorary lifetime membership in the American 325

This essay studies a large repertory of French laments (complaintes,) written in the voices of women. As a feminine counterpart to masculine love lyric, thecomplaintearose from an alternative poetics, treating subjects excluded fromfin amors, such as death, crime, and war. Essentially, lyric assigned erotic longing to men and mourning to women. The unusual subject matter accommodated by thecomplaintes, coupled with a set of material and musical forms locating them amid the cultures of cheap print, psalmody, and street song, ultimately embroiled them in the battles of the religious wars. Thus female voices came to trumpet confessional politics in songs that levied lyric, gender, and faith to serve in civil war.

Hearing held pride of place in the Renaissance sensorium. The ear was commonly believed to be the most direct conduit to the soul, a sensual gateway to the animate yet incorporeal part of each human being. The unseen and auricular, traveling to the innermost parts of the body, struck upon the passions situated in the liver and heart. Setting this lower portion of the soul in motion, sound could consume the auditor with joy, fear, and anger, and evoke an exalted state of divine furor that would seize the soul and conduct it toward divine illumination. The ear, in short, connected the senses and the intellect by acting upon the messy gray matter of the soul enfolding them. The late-sixteenth-century philosopher Pierre Charon tells us that hearing mediated divine knowledge itself: "The Eare is a spirituall Sense, it is the Intermedler, and Agent of the understanding, the instrument of wise and Spirituall men, capable not only of the secrets and inward parts of particular bodies, whereunto sight arriveth not, but also of the generall kindes, and of all spiritual things and divine, in which Sight serveth rather to disturbe thant to helpe... To be briefe, Science, Trueth, and Vertue have no other entrance into the Soule but by the Eare."'1 One of the most powerful agents to penetrate the ear and animate the soul was music. The sonorous vibrations of music incurred particularly effective motions on the body and soul owing to their mathematically structured consonances. And not only was music intrinsically harmonious, but some music was even understood as celestial: it corresponded to and made audible the motions of the planets, their passages through the heavens, and the proportions described by their orbits. According to astrologers, the harmonies generated by these planetary forces shaped the course of human events. Likewise, music cast in heavenly proportions allowed the practitioner to seize celestial influxes to moral and medical ends, soothing the troubled soul by regulating its motions to accord with those of the universe.Z It was a commonplace drawn from Aristotle's Politics that the vibrations of certain sorts of music could stir the passions to great virtue. Through rhythms and melodies, music could represent the true natures of all "ethical habits" such as anger, joy, brav

In 1549 Joachim Du Bellay demanded that French lyric poetry abandon its traditional forms in favor of ancient genres, arguing that "rondeaux, ballades, virelais, chants royaux, chansons and other such morsels ... corrupt the taste of our language and serve only to testify to our ignorance."' This ban on the formes fixes was spelled out in La Deffence et illustration de la langue francoyse and served as the rallying cry of the Plkiade poets in their campaign to elevate French lyric verse to the rhetorical heights achieved by classical authors. By imitating the forms and idioms of Greek and Latin poetry, Pierre de Ronsard, Du Bellay, and others sought to rival the ancients. In book 2, chapter 4 of La Deffence, "Quelz genres de po!mes doit elire le poiete Francoys," Du Bellay recommends the following generic models to the French poet: the ?pitres of Ovid or

Chanson texts featuring birds form a unique nexus of voices in the sexual discourse pervading the Parisian repertory of the late sixteenth century. The eroticism of these chansons is often expressed according to the older poetic conventions of unrequited courtly love and its carnivalesque abasement focusing on the lower body, or by a synthesis of the two characterized by the poetry of Pierre de Ronsard. Ronsard's sensual lyricism tended to employ avian imagery in support of a naturalized philosophy of love encouraging sexuality. Birds, considered to have a libido surpassing that of humans, became a favored theme, and composers set many of these Ronsardian texts. In the second part of this essay, I contextualize the reception of the erotic chanson among France's upper classes, relating it to the crisis of the French aristocracy and the noble aspirations of the bourgeoisie. The nouveaux nobles, or bourgeois that ennobled themselves with the purchase of seigneurial titles, had the fiscal power to acquire music and seem to have evinced the same sexual repression that Foucault saw as emblematic of bourgeois society itself-a repression that spawned a whole literature on sex. Around and in the chanson formed a rich locus of this contemporary discourse on sex, noble comportment, and the moral effects of music.

This article studies Josquin des Prez, a musical genius who refused to compose on request and was an individualist who represented the new spirit of humanism. It notes the lack of information sources or print for studies on Josquin. This makes him a good example of how musicologists who carry out research on the sixteenth century are often forced to go to the extremes in order to recover even the tiniest shreds of historical evidence. Nevertheless, this article focuses on information gathered by several researchers about Josquin, including his importance in Renaissance studies.

In 1594, the great horseman Antoine de Pluvinel opened France’s first military academy, aiming, he said, to render his students “capable of serving their Prince well, whether in peace or in war.”1 The academy filled a genuine need, as before that time young French nobles keen to fulfill the military calling of their estate had had to travel to Italy for training, where they studied at the riding school of Cesare Fiaschi in Ferrara or in Naples with Federico Grisone, Giovanni Battista Pignatelli (at whose school Pluvinel had studied for six years), or Cesare Mirabbello. After a stay that usually began no earlier than age 14 and lasted one or two years, students returned to France, where they commanded respect through their poise in the saddle.