Conference Agenda

Musical expressions of post-Tridentine Catholic reform in Germany, particularly after the turn of the seventeenth century, remain poorly understood. A modest number of musicological and hymnological studies have addressed repertories of Latin-texted polyphony and vernacular hymnody, respectively, but this disciplinary cleft obscures a richer musical spectrum in which concerted music, plainchant, and song entered into a complex and productive dialogue; moreover, we tend to overlook polyphonic music of modest difficulty that could thrive on the boundaries between oral and written cultures. In this paper I propose that confraternities and congregations, whose membership bridged divisions of social class and gender, provide rewarding opportunities to understand not only a less polarized account of the religious soundscape, but also the role of confraternities in mediating “top-down” Catholic reform with more organic expressions of popular devotion.

In the decades leading up to the Thirty Years War, confraternities were crucial vectors for the strengthening of Catholic identity and the inscription of firm confessional boundaries against Protestants. Of special importance were the numerous Marian Congregations established by the Jesuits, which adopted a militant religious stance dramatized by demonstrative processions, pilgrimages, and services in which sound and music augmented a multisensory strategy. The extant music connected to confraternal culture ranges from vernacular hymnals published explicitly with these groups in mind to sophisticated polyphonic collections by confrères themselves (e.g. Georg Victorinus, Gregor Aichinger, Rudolph di Lasso) that blend fervent Latin devotional and liturgical texts with novel Italianate concertato styles. But the potential polarization between vernacular hymnody and Latin polyphony was mitigated on the one hand by common performance contexts—confraternal devotions, processions, pilgrimages—and on the other by the publication of repertory like simple tricinia, spiritual canzonettas, and falsobordone-like litanies that straddled oral and written practices. A sensitive accounting of confraternal music embodying a range of sophistication will contribute to a more holistic understanding of Catholic soundscapes in an age of religious reform and heightening confessional tensions.

No one can hide their appearance. Within Euro-dominated contexts, people of color often suffer marginalization because of their skin and respond with counterstrategies aimed at ameliorating their standing. This seems the case of the brown-skinned composer and theorist Vicente Lusitano (fl. 1550-1561), whose quest for legitimacy involved creating a persona for himself through his motets. That Lusitano was a person of color emerges as very likely after my review of manuscript evidence—but, contrary to current beliefs, no decisive racial indicators exist, and circumstantial information suggests that he descended from Arabs.

Two motets demonstrate that the composer used the genre as a rhetorical tool in order to achieve social integration and improve his living conditions. His German-preserved Beati omnes, possibly part of his application for a court position at Württemberg, features a strong nod to the locally important master Sigmund Hemmel. Additionally, Benedictum est nomen tuum, written on a text that lacks prior motet use, asks for divine protection in terms that strongly recall the Vicentino dispute and are duly highlighted in the setting.

These motets encode issues important for Lusitano, which suggests that other, similar music proceeds in comparable ways and enables a systematic examination of all the motets. In them I find five main themes: Some compositions reprise specifically Iberian texts or celebrate Portuguese devotions. Another subset of pieces underlines the author’s Christian religiosity through the use of medieval texts rarely set in polyphony. A third group inscribes Lusitano’s name within Josquin’s and Gombert’s tradition. Fourthly, all items, including the Iberian ones, are cautiously cast in well-established, post-Josquinian styles. Finally, the famous (and singular) Heu me, Domine certifies the creator’s ability to handle pervasive chromaticism as yet another response to Vicentino.

Taken together, Lusitano’s motets legitimize him in several ways. The Christian emphasis erases any religious questions related to his skin color. The Iberian traits confirm his Lusitanian affiliation, while the Franco-Flemish connections and the extreme chromaticism demonstrate that he was conversant with both mainstream trends and experimental ones. Motets, ripe with practical uses, could also become rhetorical devices for a person of color to resist and thrive.

The Ottoman empire controlled significant regions of the Mediterranean and central Europe in the sixteenth century. This affected the European psyche, not only in European regions dependent on Mediterranean trade (e.g., Venice) but also those at risk of losing land to Ottoman incursions (e.g., Habsburg Austria). The Long War (1593–1606) between the Austrian Habsburgs and the Ottomans comprised an extended series of battles in an ethnically complex central European space that ended in stalemate (Ágoston 2021). Although scholars have examined Venetian musical and sonic responses to the Ottomans (Bryant 1981; Fenlon 2014; Ignesti 2021), we lack study of the responses from Habsburg Austria.

Comparison of the Habsburg motet “Percussit Saul mille” (1607) by Georg Poss with Giovanni Croce’s Venetian motet on the same text (1594) articulates the resonance between Habsburg and Venetian responses to the Ottomans following the Battle of Lepanto (1571). Ritualistic practices ordered by Rudolf II (1552–1612) reveal a soundscape that both voiced fears and allayed anxieties. Mandates prescribing special practices in response to Habsburg defeats reveal a pattern that dates back to the first Siege of Vienna (1529). Dancing, street music, and parties were banned; people were admonished to conduct themselves morally to please God and to improve Austrian fortunes. Forty-hour-prayer rosters illuminate extended communal activity punctuated by bell ringing and supported with hymns (e.g., “O salutaris hostia”), litanies, psalms, and prayers contra turcam.

These practices stoked support for ongoing battles in Hungarian regions and expressed anxieties about an imminent second Siege of Vienna (which would not arrive until 1683). I draw on little-known sources from Austrian archives that include university records, calendars, letters, and descriptions of battles and processions. The activities unfold across a broad context that includes professional musicians singing motets, people gathering in church for music and prayer, and songs sung in the home and the market square.

Nuancing this narrative of fear re-contextualizes our understanding of how motets and rituals served emotional and political purposes. This work places European music in its global context and complements scholarship that acknowledges the fluidity of Europe’s political borders and entanglements (Edwards 2015; Honisch 2019).