Susan Boynton's well-researched book explores the study and copying of medieval musical manuscripts in eighteenth-century Spain. Boynton's point of departure is the serendipitous discovery of an un-catalogued manuscript owned by the Hispanic Society of America (New York City). The liturgical book from the cathedral in Toledo, written in the eleventh century, had been known to scholars of chant and liturgy through a copy made in the second half of the eighteenth century, but the original had been lost. Although Boynton is a medievalist and chant scholar by trade, her book does not deal primarily with the medieval manuscript but rather tells the facilitating story behind the creation of the copy.
The story of the book is also the story of a search for national identity and of imperial legitimization. In 1749 the Spanish King Ferdinand VI (1746–1759) funded the Royal Commission on the Archives with the goal of discovering and copying documents that supported the royal control over ecclesiastical property and benefices in Spain. The Spanish monarch had been in a conflict with Rome and the goal of the commission was to produce medieval sources that supported the Spanish claim. On a broader scale, the commission also had the purpose to explore sources that could serve as examples for Spanish identity and Spanish uniqueness. An important stratum in Iberian history was the tradition of the Mozarabic liturgical rite. While the rite had been replaced by the introduction of the Roman rite in the second half of the eleventh century, its memory had been an important part of Spanish identity. An attempt to revive the rite (and its music) in the early sixteenth century was more historical fiction (albeit a quite successful one) than a reconstruction of eleventh century practices. Thus the work of the Royal Commission was an important step in the reevaluation of this tradition as well.
The protagonists of this story are the Jesuit priest and historian Andrés Marcos Burriel (1719–1762) and the paleographer Francisco Xavier de Santiago y Palomares (1728–1796). Burriel served as director of the commission and under his supervision the project grew beyond its original goals. It is this context in which the copy of the Toledo manuscript was furnished. As Boynton points out, it was probably the first time in Spain that “medieval chant notation was carefully studied and copied” (54). For Burriel, the study and copying of the medieval manuscripts was a question of national pride, as he states in a letter: “I do not doubt that in other monasteries of Spain there are preserved . . . many Visigothic [Mozarabic] liturgical books, enough to compose a collection so ample and complete that no other nation could offer a similar one” (89).
The quality of the copies made by Palomares is exceptional and Boynton points out that they only contain a minor number of mistakes or instances of misreading. This is even more astonishing, as the musical notation was not understood by either Burriel or by his paleographer Palomares. In fact, until today, it has not been possible to decode the Mozarabic notation in a way that would make it possible to transcribe it into modern notation. In other words, the music in these manuscripts remains, as Boynton's book highlights, “silent music.” The eighteenth century copies of the Mozarabic liturgical books were not intended to inspire a revival of the texts or the music. The main purpose was to demonstrate cultural domination of Spain by documenting the existence and the esthetic beauty of the codices as material objects.
The first three chapters of Boynton's book explore the context of the work of Burriel's and Palomares's project, culminating in the facsimile of the Toledo chant book (chapter 3, aptly titled “A Gem Worthy of a King”). Boynton combines scholarly erudition with a talent for a presentation of the material that turns the story of eighteenth-century paleography into a fascinating narrative. Although written by a musicologist, the study refrains from using overtly musical jargon and is accessible to both historians of the Iberian Peninsula and scholars who are interested in the formation of national identity during the European enlightenment.
In chapter 4, Boynton shifts the view to another copy made by Palomares, a Toledo manuscript of the medieval Cantigas of Santa Maria. While the original manuscript of the cantigas (sacred songs in the vernacular) had not been illuminated, Palomares inserted an image of King Alfonso X (1221–1284), under whose supervision the book of cantigas had allegedly been copied. In this image, Alfonso X sings from a noted sheet of music, tying him closely to the music in the copy, and by extension, honoring the current King of Spain, Ferdinand VI.
In her final chapter, Boynton turns her attention to Palomares's Polygraphia Gothico-Españona, a landmark paleographical study of script on the Iberian Peninsula from late Roman cursive to the end of Visigothic script in the late twelfth century. As in his collaboration with Burriel, Palomares not only meticulously copied written texts, but also included examples of Mozarabic notation—in spite of his inability to understand it. But that, in turn, probably saved him from making “corrections” or adjustments to modern forms of notation and thus renders his copies all the more reliable.
Susan Boynton's book is an important contribution to both the transmission of liturgical chant in the eighteenth century and to the history of paleography in the Enlightenment. The study is well researched, covering not only the musical and paleographical background but venturing into historiography, liturgical theology, and politics. It is unfortunate that the book mostly relies on black-and-white reproductions of some of the pages of the manuscripts. Especially in the case of the chant book from Toledo and its copy, it would have been desirable to have some color reproductions. Only two pages appear in color—showing what the reader is missing!
