Tallis Choir Programme – Christmas in the Renaissance – December 9, 2023

One could imagine Victoria leading his choir at the Dowager Empress María’s monastery in Madrid in an Advent performance of O Virgo virginum, followed by his second-tone setting of the Magnificat text. The choir would alternate between chanting verses of the Magnificat on the canticle tone (a melodic pattern slightly more elaborate than a psalm tone) and singing Victoria’s polyphonic setting.

Victoria builds an increasingly complex series of variations on the canticle tone. He begins with a straightforward SATB setting of the second verse, with the chant ringing out clearly in the soprano line. The middle verses experiment with a variety of vocal configurations: the sixth verse takes the form of a trio for alto, tenor, and bass, while in the eighth verse, the bass drops out and the sopranos split into two lines. Victoria pulls out all the stops for the final verse, setting it for six voices (SAATBB) and hiding the canticle tone in the innermost voices, which sing the tone in a strict imitative canon while the outer voices envelop the tone in a web of polyphony.

The Gloria opens with sustained harmonies symbolic of peace. Gradually, the counterpoint becomes more complex as it reaches the joyful climax of “gloriam tuam.” A gently rocking theme for “qui tollis” is briefly interrupted for a sonorous acclamation at “qui sedes.” This is followed by an exquisite falling figure on “miserere” which begins high in the first sopranos and slowly descends through the entire choir. An unusual feature is the insistent repetition of “altissimus.” Could “most high” be an allusion to the princely title of Mary and Phillip’s unborn Heir?

Queen Mary’s pregnancy proved to be a malignant tumor which would kill her. The public humiliation devastated the Queen. Phillip left England never to return, and Mary withdrew to her privy chambers where her bitterness increased her severity against the Protestants. She was becoming Bloody Mary.

Gloria Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto;
sicut erat in principio et nunc et semper et in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit;
as it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever, for ages of ages. Amen.

Domine Deus, Rex caelestis,
Deus Pater omnipotens.
Domine Fili unigenite, Jesu Christe;
Domine Deus, Agnus Dei, Filius Patris.

Lord God, heavenly king,
God the Father almighty,
Lord Jesus Christ, only Son of the Father.
Lord God, Lamb of God, Son of the Father.

Qui tollis peccata mundi,

miserere nobis,

Qui tollis peccata mundi,

suscipe deprecationem nostram;

qui sedes ad dexteram Patris,

miserére nobis.

Quoniam tu solus sanctus,

tu solus Dominus,

tu solus altissimus: Jesu Christe,

cum Sancto Spiritu

in gloria Dei Patris. Amen.

You who take away the sins of the world,

have pity on us;

you who take away the sins of the world;

receive our prayers;

you who sit at the right hand of the Father,

have pity on us.

For you alone are holy,

you alone are the Lord,

you alone are the most high, Jesus Christ

with the Holy Spirit

in the glory of God the Father. Amen.

Mary Tudor came to the throne determined to restore the lavish devotions to the Virgin Mary, and Tallis and Sheppard were clearly given a royal mandate to provide the music. It is also no accident that the Marian texts which they set can be construed as compliments to Mary as the defender of the old faith. Sheppard’s magnificent six-part (SATTTB) Candelmas responsory is one of the final flourishes of the Latin rite. Like Tallis, he uses the ABACA form, but his polyphony is more florid and ecstatic.

Into this already complex work, Sheppard inserts eight verses of a devotional poem, beginning at “Quae es effecta.” Eight times the plainsong cantors try to finish the final syllable of “Maria,” and eight times the choir interrupts with a yet more ravishing invocation to Mary.

Sheppard divides the upper voices into four parts, silences the three tenor parts, and sets this radiant texture high above the bass line two octaves below. That extraordinary layout of voices is a peculiarly English device called “gimel,” from the Latin “gemellus” (twin), referring to the groups of paired upper voices. It was this shimmering sound which caused the Venetian ambassador at Henry VIII’s court to exclaim “They do not sing—they rejoice!”

Just as the formal tension can be sustained no more, the full choir returns at “O benigna” to continue the responsory. The feeling of homecoming as the plainsong reaches the concluding “Gloria Patri” is almost palpable. The final repetition of the polyphony leaves the vaults ringing with one of the last masterpieces of the Latin rite.

Dum virgo Deum et hominem genuisti, Et post partum virgo inviolata permansisti.

While a virgin you bore both God and man, and after the birth, you remained an inviolate virgin.

You who have been made the shining gate of heaven,

O kind and most gracious mother of Christ,

Accept our pious declarations of praise,

That our souls and bodies may be pure.

Those things which devoted voice and hearts now entreat,

May you grant through sweetly-sounding prayer,

That we may enjoy everlasting life,

O beneficent one who alone remained inviolate.

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.

And after the birth you are remained an inviolate virgin.

This has led to some debate as to the original purpose of the Mass. Since Philip II’s chapel had travelled with him to England in 1554, the Mass may have been composed for a joint performance between Mary Tudor’s Chapel Royal and her husband’s capilla flamenca (which would not have had trebles). More recently, David Humphries has suggested that Tallis may have composed the Mass as part of a failed submission for a degree or doctorate in music at either Oxford or Cambridge.

An additional enigma surrounds Tallis’s treatment of the cantus firmus, which is based on the opening melody of Puer natus est nobis and is performed throughout the Mass by the tenors. Joseph Kerman decoded some of that puzzle: Tallis used a complex “vowel code” to determine the rhythmic duration of each note in the cantus firmus—a rather learned technique that seems fitting for a doctoral dissertation!

While it would be impossible for a listener to decode the puzzles of the cantus firmus without studying the score, the varied rhythm of the tenor line does impact what we hear in the other parts. For much of the Sanctus and Benedictus, the tenor moves at a relatively fast pace, providing a degree of harmonic fluidity. When the tenor part does stand still and hold a note for many measures, it forces the other voices to coalesce around a tonal centre at important moments in the text. The tenor’s long-held E flat at the end of the first Hosanna leads to a cadence on that note. The second Hosanna also comes to a close over a long-held note in the tenor, but this time an F, leading to an unexpectedly bright cadence in a Mass centred around A flat.

Another feature uniting the Agnus Dei and its preceding movement is that both are entirely through-composed. While many Renaissance composers would recycle the music of the Hosanna at the end of the Benedictus and provide only one musical setting of Agnus Dei (to be repeated twice), Tallis crafted full settings for each movement with no repetitions.

The enigmas of the cantus firmus play a decisive role in the shape of the Agnus Dei. Throughout the first two verses, the tenor part sustains or repeats one note for several measures at a time, acting as an anchor for the other voices’ elaborate counterpoint. This culminates in an A flat maintained by the tenors nearly continuously for over 30 measures. In the final verse, the cantus firmus moves at a faster pace, allowing the tenor to take part in some imitative back-and-forth with the other voices before coming to a fittingly peaceful conclusion.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: miserere nobis.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi: dona nobis pacem.

Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world: have pity on us.

Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world: give us peace.

Pastores loquebantur was first published by Victoria, who printed it alongside his own Quem Vidistis in homage to the older composer. Set for six voices, Guerrero’s motet is a rich interplay of polyphonic writing which rises and falls in intensity as new themes appear and recede. Particularly impressive are the joyous shouts of “venerunt festinantes,” the hushed depiction of the manger scene, the unexpected shift of harmonies at “mirati sunt,” and the final prophetic intrusion of tragic chromatics at “Maria autem conservabat.”

Every Christmas Eve, the pope and his court came to Santa Maria Maggiore to celebrate midnight Mass—the papal chalice even rested on the supposed relics of the manger from Bethlehem! Palestrina probably wrote his magnificent motet and mass for this spectacular event. The eight-part motet is laid out for two antiphonal choirs of high and low voices (SSAB and ATTB). This disposition is clearly symbolic of heaven and earth. The work opens with a brilliant angelic proclamation, which is answered by the pastoral chorus. In an unusually playful mood, Palestrina adds a dancing “noë” to each section. At “canunt angeli,” the voices soar upwards in runs which anticipate the Baroque. The “Gloria” is a masterstroke: a sudden shift up a step pierces the texture, and the choirs unite in a massive acclamation. A madrigal-like triple meter invades the rhythm as all heaven and earth seem to dance for joy.