Revisiting Douai Ms 785: Musical Cultures of Exiled English Convents through the Lens of a Miscellany

Abstract

Scholarship on early modern English Catholic music after the reformations tends to focus on the activities of male musicians and male institutions. Despite increased study of English convent culture by scholars of religious, social, and literary history, there remains little specialist examination of music at post-Reformation English convents in exile, and their role in wider musical networks in early modern Europe is markedly under-acknowledged. This article aims to highlight how complex miscellanies with links to English monastic institutions in exile can offer insight into the convents’ otherwise elusive musical world. Using a hitherto unanalysed miscellany – Douai Ms 785 – this article will show how codicological study of manuscripts, combined with study of concordances and unica, can illuminate the role of English convents in early modern musical networks. In doing so, it will demonstrate the need to understand miscellanies like Douai Ms 785 as witness to interacting, overlapping musical and religious ecosystems in early modern Europe.

In his Memorials (c. 1707), the English Benedictine monk Benet Weldon (1674–1713) recalled a series of visits undertaken to the Parisian convent of Val-de-Grace in 1687 by his fellow Benedictine Dominic Green (1665–99). ¹ Green visited at the behest of the congregation’s president, Joseph Sherborne, who instructed him to note down the French nuns’ ‘most charming Methode of singing made solely […] for them & of wch. they are so jealous that they will communicate it to none’. Sherborne was ‘desponding of obtaining it for the English Benedictin Dames at Dunkerque, who were mighty desirous of it’. ² Green – whose training at the Chapel Royal in Windsor had reportedly lent him the necessary musical skills – accordingly went to Val-de-Grace ‘on all Feasts & Solemnitys […] & by the dint of his skill brought it away, noting it in a private place on paper he had prepared for that design’. ³ The precise task Green was entrusted with is unclear; noting ‘methode of singing’ could refer to the repertory, ornamentation practices, or more specific techniques of singing such as dynamics or phrasing. The phrase ‘paper he had prepared for that design’ does suggest that Green had pre-ruled paper with a rastrum or straight edge in order to transcribe the sound into staff notation. Regardless, that Weldon notes Green undertook this operation despite the fact he had been ‘very much esteem’d & valued at Val de Grace & had had great acquaintance there formerly’, suggests Green was aware that his acquisition of the Val-de-Grace nuns’ music was a distinctly deceitful act.

Though perhaps apocryphal, this anecdote opens broader questions of musical exchange between post-Tridentine French convents and exiled English convents, and the role of clergy as musical intermediaries. It complements an expanding corpus of research from the past twenty years indicating that the cultural activities undertaken by English nuns and lay women resident at exiled convents were anything but peripheral. As will be discussed within this article, the convents were well integrated with wide-ranging Catholic networks involving some of the most influential people and institutions in contemporaneous British, French, and Spanish Netherlandish society. Yet unlike their counterparts across France or wider Catholic Europe (e.g., Italy, Austria, and Spain), English convent musical practices have gone virtually unexamined.

This article will offer insight into how this musical world might be assessed, given the unique difficulties in identifying notated examples of exiled English convent music (as will be discussed later). Using a late seventeenth-century miscellany – Douai Ms 785 – as a case study, this article will suggest that music at exiled English convents can in part be analysed by using evidence of the networks that converge around personalized miscellanies. After outlining the structure, organization, and contents of the manuscript, this article will contextualize Douai Ms 785 by analysing concordances with another manuscript, Bibliothèque Nationale de France Rés VmC Ms-77 (the ‘Teynham’ manuscript). A full inventory of Douai Ms 785, with select transcriptions of text, will be provided in the appendix to this article. ⁴ It will then discuss potential theories for the compilation and ownership of both manuscripts, and what these might indicate about the repertories associated with English Catholic women and the exiled convents. The resulting conclusions will contextualize Douai Ms 785 as witness to the role of exiled English convents as dynamic centres for musical exchange in early modern Catholic Europe, as well as the wider role of exiled English Catholic communities in early modern musical networks. In doing so, this article will demonstrate the importance of acknowledging evidence within miscellanies of overlapping musical influences.

Missing Manuscripts? Music and Book Cultures at Exiled English Convents

The musical activities of English Jesuits and their institutions have received much scholarly attention over the past twenty years, including with regards to Douai Ms 785. ⁵ The activities of exiled English nuns, however, have received little attention. To provide some context for Douai Ms 785 and its relationship English convents, this section will outline some fundamental aspects regarding singing and instrument playing at English convents in exile, with a focus on logistical aspects. It will then summarize the vital few examples of previous research regarding notated music sources from exiled English convents. Finally, it will provide a broader context for Douai Ms 785’s compilation and usage through a short review of scholarship regarding book production, exchange, and consumption at English Catholic monastic institutions in Europe.

From 1598 to 1790, nearly 4,000 English women professed as choir or lay sisters across twenty-two enclosed convents established expressly for them, located (and re-located) across Portugal, France, and the Low Countries. Study of these convents from a variety of scholarly perspectives has flourished over the past twenty years, with countless articles, edited volumes, and monographs published detailing convent life and its significance to early modern European history. ⁶ The daily life of most post-Tridentine choir nuns revolved around singing or reciting the hours of the Divine Office (Matins, Lauds, Prime, Terce, Sext, None, Vespers, and Compline), as well as singing or reciting parts of low and/or high Mass (depending on the time of the liturgical year). Lay sisters were not bound by their vows to sing or recite the Divine Office, although judging from records of exiled English convents, some lay sisters sang or played instruments in the Divine Office regularly, sometimes even to the same standards as choir nuns. ⁷ Evidence suggests that at the English Benedictine, Augustinian, Franciscan, Poor Clare, and Conceptionist convents in France and the Low Countries, the Divine Office and Mass were sung primarily by the nuns themselves, with varying involvement of organ and instruments. ⁸ Indeed, most scholars studying exiled English convents have acknowledged that music was a vital part of convent life. ⁹ However, very few have examined music at the convents in depth. ¹⁰

The first – and until recently, the only – musicologists to systematically explore music at exiled English convents were Andrew Cichy and Emilie Murphy, who both produced doctoral theses partly concerned with music at the convents in 2014. Their work uncovered and contextualized vital biographical information demonstrating the wide array of choir nuns, lay sisters, and secular boarders who were skilled not only at singing plainchant, polyphony, and fauxbourdon, but also instrumental playing (chiefly organ, harpsichord or clavacin, lute, violin, and viola da gamba). Of four case studies on exiled English Catholic monastic music, Cichy dedicated one to the English Benedictine convent at Brussels and one to the English Augustinian convent at Bruges, with the latter including some coverage of music at the English Augustinian convent in Louvain. ¹¹ Murphy’s thesis examined the musical cultures of exiled English convents within her wider exploration of English Catholic soundscapes and music as a tool for community-building in exile, highlighting the role of convent musicians in facilitating larger patronage networks for English Catholics both in England and in exile on the continent. ¹²

In line with other scholars examining how English nuns acted anonymously in the production, publication, and circulation of convent books, Cichy has also highlighted the tendency towards anonymity and self-effacement that makes identification of music with links to the convents especially difficult. ¹³ The nuns’ relatively zealous embrace of the post-Tridentine doctrine of enclosure most likely heightened the need to maintain some amount of secrecy when it came to convent products intended for internal use. ¹⁴ Both Cichy and Murphy have indicated that English convents relied on local booksellers and cultural agents to acquire music books, and sometimes exchanged institutional books of notated music (as will be discussed momentarily). ¹⁵ However, Cichy suggests that limited circulation of notated music sources from exiled English convents may have enticed visitors and potential patrons to the convents, in order to hear the nuns’ music. ¹⁶

The question of how exiled English convents engaged with systems for circulating notated music sources is crucial for this article. Research by Cichy and Murphy suggests that the surviving sources of music (primarily plainchant) located across archives of exiled English convents represents but a small part of the convents’ music cultures. This theory has been supported by the author’s recent study of music in liturgy, education, and recreation at English convents in France and the Low Countries, which demonstrate not only the wide variety of secular music (both vocal and instrumental) used in English convent recreation and education, but also frequent use of polyphony, fauxbourdon, and/or instrumental music in daily liturgies. ¹⁷ However, neither Murphy nor Cichy discuss the relevance of personalized music manuscripts used and retained by convent go-betweens, such as school pupils, family members, lay boarders, or clergy. ¹⁸ This is a notable gap, given recent research has shown that music books belonging to early modern English Catholic girls could shed light onto English convents’ role in the copying and circulation of music manuscripts, and the role of English convent school pupils as institutional go-betweens. ¹⁹

Little work has been done to connect music manuscripts preserved beyond English convent archives (e.g., legal repositories, municipal archives, county record offices) with the music lives of exiled English nuns. ²⁰ As previously noted, scholarship on early modern manuscripts with English Catholic links has generally been dominated by explorations of English Jesuit networks and wider European musical networks. While Jesuits were undoubtedly important musical agents in early modern Europe, studies of English Catholic musical networks tend to attribute agency to male cultural agents and institutions – such as the Jesuits – to the exclusion of female counterparts. Even when agency is attributed to female institutions, the scope is often relatively limited. ²¹ As this article will demonstrate, evidence of Jesuit influence – or even usage – in a music manuscript does not necessitate compilation and/or use solely by Jesuits, nor that its contents primarily reflect the musical cultures of a Jesuit community. This is particularly relevant when either the manuscript itself or the music copied indicates use by named women. ²²

Beyond relationships with male monastic institutions, there is also evidence to suggest that exiled English convents circulated and shared music books with other English convents. Andrew Cichy has noted evidence from the Annals from the English Augustinian convent in Bruges indicating they acquired notated music books from the English Benedictine convent at Dunkirk. The Annals note that on 21 June 1726:

Our Reverend Mother [Lucy Herbert] being very desirous to have our Quire song in the greatest perfection, to God’s greater glory, by the performance of the divine office in the most solemn and moving manner, proposed our Lord Bishop the changing our plan song into a more harmonious manner, by cutting off superfluous notes, and adding such graces as in ancient times were not used. ²³

The Annals note that Herbert ‘found means not long after to get ye consent of ye Lady Fleetwood Abbess of ye English Dames at Dunkirk, to let us have a book of their plan song, wch they had reduced to ye form we desired, and wch was generally admired by all yt heard it’. ²⁴ Another anecdote of the Dunkirk convent sharing notated music books features in a letter dating 19 May 1745 from the abbess at Dunkirk – Dame Mary Xaveria Pearse (née Xaveria, d. 1767) – to the prioress of St Monica’s in Louvain – Mary Cecilia More (née Mary, d. 1755). In the letter, Pearse notes that she was enclosing a setting of ‘the Te Deum in Fauxbourdon’ which the Dunkirk nuns had ‘lately got compos’d […] to be sung wn we receive our Bishop’s order’. ²⁵ Pearse also notes that she sent music for the antiphons of Vespers from the Dunkirk convent, as she noted a cross by the Office for the Feast of St Peter & Paul ‘wch denots something wanting’. ²⁶

These anecdotes of music book-sharing complement wider evidence of a rich tradition of book exchange over the convent wall. As Caroline Bowden has noted, book production and consumption at exiled English convents often involved material exchange with lay women; equally, English nuns were also known to compile books for their male brethren. ²⁷ Through an exploration of manuscript inventories of English convent libraries in conjunction with surviving convent archives, Bowden has shown that while there was great diversity in the size and contents of these libraries, books were generally understood to be kept in different parts of the convent in different collections depending on their purpose, rather than kept in one specific nun’s room. ²⁸ While books in the convents were intended primarily to be communal property, they were one of the few objects that nuns could temporarily claim ‘ownership’ of, and personalize through inscription and annotation. ²⁹ Exchanging books over the convent wall with friends and family was also an acceptable method for nuns to maintain earthly relationships, with books acting as tangible tokens of kinship. ³⁰ While the influence of a convent’s confessor can be seen in ‘every aspect of the creation of book collections’, Bowden recognizes the contributions and curatorial skills of individual nuns, with communities constantly exchanging, readjusting, and repurposing books according to need, in part due to scarcity of materials. ³¹

Transfer of books over the convent wall was not isolated to exchanges between individuals. Jenna Lay has made a compelling case for English convent literary compilations – copied or composed – as situated within the mainstream of early modern English literary culture, with the nuns’ individual or communal identity remaining hidden. ³² Lay shows how Catholic crucifixion poems – particularly those written by women – reflect a sense of displacement experienced by exiled English nuns, a disjointedness that reflects ‘the women who wrote from exilic, enclosed, recusant, and conformist perspectives’. ³³ Lay echoes theories developed by Helen Hackett, whose analysis of Constance Aston Fowler’s ‘On the Passion of our Lord and saviour Jesus Christ’ shows the ways in which women wrote ‘statements of faith’ using influences from across Europe, including exiled English convent literature. ³⁴ Jane Stevenson has highlighted overlaps between poetry in recusant miscellanies – such as the poem ‘The Royal Nun’ from the Tixall collection – and poetry copied and/or composed by exiled English nuns, including both applicability for recreational music-making within and without the convent. ³⁵ This suggests that exiled English convents’ literary and devotional cultures were intertwined with, and influenced, lay Catholic culture beyond individual communities.

The preceding anecdotes and case studies situate the musical cultures of exiled English convents within wider early modern book cultures. In line with previous scholarly work on anonymity and English convent culture, this article will argue that traces of English convent music cultures can be uncovered with due cross-examination and contextualization of sources, and apply these methods to the musical miscellany Douai Ms 785.

Douai Ms 785: Structure, Content, and Scribes

Douai Ms 785 was first noted by Peter Leech and Maurice Whitehead in 2016. ³⁶ A small, duodecimo manuscript miscellany, it resides in the special collections of the Bibliothèque Marceline Desbordes-Valmore (formerly the Bibliothèque Municipale de Douai). Watermarks generally appear in the top corner near the binding of the book, and are similar to those in paper made in late seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century London. ³⁷ The manuscript is divided into fifteen quires, labelled A1–A15 in the bottom right-hand corner of relevant folios (Figures 1 and 2 ³⁸). These labels were likely attributed by the scribe, judging by similarities between the quire numbers and the numbers in figured bass inscriptions (Figures 2–3). The number of folios in each quire ranges from four folios in quires A3 and A13, to twenty-one folios in A15. Several quires have pages near their end that are either completely blank or with blank pre-ruled staves. The quires are grouped according to content, with A1–5 being organized by musical genre, and A6–15 mostly, but crucially not always, organized according to material copied (as will be discussed momentarily later). ³⁹ Two of the quires – A6 and A14 – have their labelling partially cut off. This evidence suggests the scribe of Douai Ms 785 perhaps organized a series of blank quires with varying numbers of folios according to what (and how much) material they planned to copy, then labelled the quires A1–15, and trimmed them to the size needed for binding (occasionally cutting off a quire number in the process).

Figure 1. Douai Ms 785, fol. 9^r (original foliation fol. 11^r). With many thanks to Jean Vilbas and the Bibliothèque Marceline Desbordes-Valmore in Douai, France, for previous provision of scans and support of fieldwork trips.

Figure 2. Douai Ms 785, fol. 30^r (original foliation fol. 33^r).

Figure 3. Douai Ms 785, fol. 14^v (original foliation fol. 16^v).

Quires A1–5 contain notated music (fols. 1^r–35^v, original foliation fols. 3^r–36^r). Some folios have stave lines drawn with rastrum, some without, with the latter often including blank space (presumably for additional writing). The music and text copied is exceptionally small and cramped, with letters sized roughly 2mm on average; musical notation is particularly small on pages with staves ruled without a rastrum or straightedge. ⁴⁰ Quire A1 primarily features English language continuo songs, some partially incomplete. Quires A2–4 contain almost entirely Italianate music, with eighteen Italian secular arias, a devotional cantata, and a Latin motet. ⁴¹ Quire A5 features abridged versions of arias and choruses from operas by Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632–87) arranged for single voice and continuo. Judging by the dates copied at the end of some of the pieces in the manuscript, concordances with other manuscripts or publications, and the dating of the watermark, the music in Douai Ms 785 was likely copied at some point between the mid- to late 1680s and the early 1700s. ⁴²

Quires A6–15 feature eight different sections of non-musical text, and are far more extensive in terms of content and folios. The quires do not always align to content, with new quires sometimes starting in the middle of written sections. No precise concordances for the written text have yet been identified. While the author of this article has not yet completed a full transcription and translation of these items, provisional work suggests that the first four sections concern matters of church history and monastic hierarchies, with quotations generally being from Biblical texts, works by early Christian patriarchs, or Classical texts. The ensuing four sections (fols. 90^r–127^r, original foliation fols. 74^r–107^v) are largely concerned with practical knowledge.

The first section – ‘Collao I. De conciliis’ (fols. 38^r–46^v, original foliation 38^r–46^v) – comprises a history of church councils. It concerns councils as they appear in the Old Testament, early Christian synods in the third and fourth centuries, and the first Council at Nicea (ad 325). ⁴³ The second section – ‘De disponsibus ad ordinem hierarchicum necessarii’ (fols. 58^r–63^v, original foliation fols. 47^r–57^v) – comprises 21 twenty-one subsections that describe processes for adopting holy orders and living a monastic life, both for nuns and for monks. These include discussion of how postulants should experience ‘calling’ (‘voca[b]o’) to monastic life, monastic education, familial backgrounds of postulants, integrity of the body and age of postulants, appropriate behaviour, allocation of offices, and provision of doctrine. The next three sections discuss the monastic role of poetry, the art of diction (or declamation), civil and canonic law, philosophy, mathematics, meditation (‘de Theosebiam’), theology, and practical languages. In the third section, the scribe has copied at the top of each page ‘speculum clericorum’. This is perhaps a reference to Speculum Clericorum (c. 1451) by the Franciscan John of Capistrano (1386–1456), first published in Venice by Antonio Ferrari in 1580. Early modern English writers across confessions were clearly familiar with this work, as evinced by reference to it in Richard Braithwait’s Time’s Treasury (1652). ⁴⁴ The fourth section – ‘De moribus veterum patriarcharum’ (fols. 67^r–76^r, original foliation fols. 53^r–62^r) – concerns the history of the Hebrew patriarchs as told in the Book of Genesis, Jewish moral principles as established in the Pentateuch (i.e., the first five books of the Christian Old Testament), and early Christian patriarchs and Christian moral principles as established in the Acts and Epistles of the New Testament. ⁴⁵ The fifth section – ‘Colla[ti]ones Historicae’ – features four subsections St Adelaide of Burgundy (c. 931–999), Grand Vizier Mahomet Coprogli (1575–1661, founder of the Ottoman-Turk Köprülü dynasty), his heir Achmet Coprogli (1661–76), ⁴⁶ and Turkish affairs from the years 1623–76.

The sixth section, entitled ‘Brevis Praxis Medica’, is a short section on maladies and medicine, similar in structure to other Latin-language treatises of the time. ⁴⁷ The case studies copied concern men and women of various ages and a wide variety of ailments, such as heat- or cold-induced headaches, lethargy, apoplexy, insomnia, catalepsy, or ‘hydrophobia’ (likely rabies). The seventh section, entitled ‘General notes of Heraldry’, features English and French, with much material copied from Abrege methodique des principes heraldiques (Lyon, 1681) by the Jesuit Claude-François Menetrier (1631–1705). The eighth section concerns honorary titles (‘Titulorum honorariorum[:]’), beginning with an introductory section establishing the origin of honorary titles, followed by a section listing and defining terms for historical and contemporaneous rulers (e.g., ‘Imperatoris’, ‘Caliph’, ‘Sultan’, ‘Maiestas’). The ninth and final section comprises a guide to Hebrew, entitled ‘Grammatica Hebraica’, the source of which will be discussed momentarily.

The contents of Douai Ms 785 (both music and text) are copied by a single scribe throughout. ⁴⁸ Judging by the style of clefs, note heads, note tails, and the frequent copying of English-language songs in quires A1–5, the scribe was likely trained in England at some point over the mid- to late seventeenth century. ⁴⁹ Three other scribes have copied inscriptions. The first scribe copied ‘J Petri Coghlan’ on the front paste-down, while a second, different scribe copied ‘Mr James Peter Coghlan with the English Recolets at Douay a Ms of Value’ on the front flyleaf. A third scribe copied ‘Cette grammarie est celle d’Edouard Slaughter, Jasuise Amsterdam, mis primée a Amsterdam, par allared aalitz, en 1699’ on fol. 113^v (original foliation fol. 89^v, Figure 4). ⁵⁰

Figure 4. Douai Ms 785, fols. 113^v–114^r (original foliation fols. 89^v–90^r).

The first two inscriptions suggest that the manuscript was at some point owned by James Peter Coghlan, a prolific Catholic printer active c. 1750–1800. ⁵¹ Coghlan was not only a major printer of plainchant for use in Catholic liturgy, but also a book collector. Amid the suppression of the Jesuit order over the 1770s and 1780s, Coghlan purchased a library belonging to an English Jesuit institution in the Low Countries (most likely from one of the colleges, i.e., St Omers, Watten, or Bruges). ⁵² He also had two daughters at the English Poor Clare convent in Aire: Mary Anne (née Anne, 1765–1829) and Mary Joseph (née Elizabeth Grace, 1764–1838) Coghlan. ⁵³ The third inscription likely refers to Grammatica Hebraica Auctore, authored by the Liège-based Jesuit Edward Slaughter, and published in Amsterdam by Allardi Aaltsz in 1699. At least one English Catholic college – the English college at Douai – owned a copy of this print. ⁵⁴ While it is possible Slaughter’s text was circulated prior to printing, the near-identical contents and layouts between sources suggest the scribe of Douai Ms 785 likely copied from the 1699 published edition, thus placing the manuscript as copied at least through 1699. ⁵⁵

This latter point is particularly important for dating Douai Ms 785’s copying and usage. In the only published scholarship on Douai Ms 785, Peter Leech and Maurice Whitehead suggest that the scribe of the manuscript was the Jesuit Thomas Kingsley (1650–96). They base their theory on the signature ‘Laus Deo T:K’ at the end of a motet entitled ‘A Mottet composed for Dame Caecilia Tasbourgh at Gant Sept: 4 1685’, copied on fols. 20^r–21^r (original foliation fols. 22^r–23^r), interpreting the initials to refer to Kingsley as composer. They posit that he also copied the motet, and therefore the whole manuscript, and the composer of a series of songs copied on fols. 4^v–6^v (original foliation fols. 6^v–8^v), entitled ‘Songs by Joseph Radford, set by mee’. As evidence, they primarily cite biographical details of Kingsley’s life, namely that Kingsley was active at the English Jesuit college in Liège at the same as Radford (Kingsley from 1679 to 1684, Radford from 1677 to 1684), and that he spent his tertiary year in 1685 in Ghent. They also cite evidence of English Jesuits acting as chaplains, confessors, or spiritual advisors to English convents in France and the Low Countries (although they do not substantiate how these roles might relate to the composition of music for use by English nuns).

Leech and Whitehead are clear that their article was a provisional argument made before a detailed inventory of the manuscript had been completed. Their assessment of Jesuit connections evinced in Douai Ms 785 was undoubtedly correct; however, the dating of materials copied in the back pages of Douai Ms 785 suggests their theory of Thomas Kingsley as scribe was not, as the scribe was clearly working after Kingsley died (at some point between 1695 and 1696 in London). This evidence does not necessarily exclude Thomas Kingsley as composer of Tasburgh’s motet; it is entirely possible he did indeed compose this piece, and that the attribution ‘T:K’ was copied out of the source, or attributed by the scribe of Douai Ms 785. However, it is important to acknowledge the many other pensioners, family members, or nuns with relationships to Cecilia Tasburgh – such as Tasburgh’s fellow nun Teresa (née Esther) Kennion (b. 1635, professed 1658) – could also be referenced by these initials. The scribe also indicates their authorship of music differently elsewhere in the manuscript, using the phrase ‘set by mee’ to describe songs copied on fols. 4^v–6^v (original foliation fols. 6^v–8^v), with no initials copied. The one composer attribution in Douai Ms 785 is also indicated differently. On fol. 20^r (original foliation fol. 22^r), the piece ‘Chi mi Turba il Riposo’ is attributed to ‘Signor Giuseppe Zamponi’, which is copied underneath the basso stave of the final bar. As such, it is possible that the initials ‘T:K’ are inscribed to attribute some other aspect of authorship, such as the text set. In terms of musical evidence for Kingsley’s authorship, the only argument Leech and Whitehead rely on for Kingsley as author is that the fourth Radford song – ‘Unhappy Damon, why so sad?’ – is set with a three-part chorus at the end of the piece (two trebles and bass), a texture they note is ‘in a similar fashion to the songs attributed to Kingsley in GB-Lbl Add.29397, which both include SSB choruses’. Considering this is a common texture in seventeenth-century music, attribution on this basis seems questionable; equally, the lack of any notated music for ‘Unhappy Damon, why so sad?’ beyond indication of voicing (two treble clefs and a bass clef) makes this comparison particularly difficult to substantiate.

In-depth assessment of the manuscript and inventorying of Douai Ms 785 has yet to reveal the manuscript’s scribe, or the precise circumstances for its usage and/or copying. However, evidence of the scribe’s institutional connections and the musical resources they had access to have been elucidated, as well as contextual evidence for certain items of music. The rest of this article will outline this evidence via analysis of the repertoire (e.g., musical style, instrumentation, texts set), concordances with other sources, and evidence pertaining to the people and institutions referenced in the manuscript (either explicitly or implicitly).

Musical Contents: Quire A1

Quire A1 opens with one voice-part for three secular songs (fols. 1^r–2^r, original foliation fols. 3^r–4^r), two in English and one French air à boire, all numbered 1–3 in the margins (Figures 5 and 6). ⁵⁶ The first English song, ‘A Building Once There Stood’ (fol. 1^r, original foliation fol. 3^r), bears no rubrication besides the date ‘May 3 1685’. The second, ‘Six Merry Singers’ (fol. 1^v, original foliation fol. 3^v), is marked ‘A. 3. voc’ and ‘cantus’, and bears the date ‘April 10 1685’. The air à boire ‘Allons, Marchons’, also featured on fol. 1^v (original foliation fol. 3^v), is marked ‘A. 2. voc’, with no date inscribe. Given that the first two songs are copied consecutively but out of chronological order, it is likely that the dates written do not refer to when the music was copied, but instead were perhaps copied from the source from which the scribe also copied the music or indicates when the piece was composed or performed.

Figure 5. Douai Ms 785, fol. 1^r (original foliation fol. 3^r).

Figure 6. Douai Ms 785, fols. 1^v–2^r (original foliation fols. 3^v–4^r).

After an unnumbered, abridged compilation of airs and choruses arranged for voice and continuo from Lully’s Amadis (1684) on fols. 3^r–4^v (original foliation fols. 5^r–6^v), there are five incomplete songs (also numbered in the margins) setting English texts attributed to ‘Joseph Radford’. ⁵⁷ While many of the items in Douai Ms 785 have been copied from other sources, the items labelled ‘Songs made by Joseph Radford, set by mee’ suggest the scribe was actively composing music in this manuscript. As noted by Peter Leech and Maurice Whitehead, this title likely refers to the Jesuit Joseph Radford (1646–?), a teacher of philosophy and theology at the English Jesuit college in Liège from 1679 to 1685. ⁵⁸ The first two songs are of a devotional nature, one regarding the death of the hermit St Hilarion, another regarding the pain of the Blessed Virgin Mary at the Crucifixion. The third song features a text warning of the perils of vanity, while the final two concern pastoral themes of singing shepherds in competition, namely Damon, Strephon, and Menalcus. ⁵⁹ All five songs are incomplete, with the vocal line and a blank bass stave provided in songs one, two, and five, and only words given for songs three and four.

There are many ways the scribe could have obtained Radford’s unpublished poetic ‘songs’, such as through a visit to the English Jesuit college at Liège where Radford was based, or if Radford brought or sent his poetry to an institution frequented by the scribe of Douai Ms 785. In terms of how the scribe engaged with them, the music setting the songs remains unfinished, with not only missing notes, but missing bass clefs at the start of song one and near the end of songs three and four (Figures 7–9). The music is copied on staves drawn freehand, supporting the notion that the scribe did not intend to produce a careful copy, but rather, was jotting down texts they wished to set, and starting to formulate ideas on how to do so (although the manuscript lacks the deletions and signs of drafting that might be expected in a composing score). ⁶⁰ The texts by Radford do not seem to have circulated in manuscript or print form; judging by lack of concordances where music has been notated, neither did the settings composed by the scribe of Douai Ms 785.

Figure 7. Douai Ms 785, fols. 4^v–5^r (original foliation fols. 6^v–7^r).

Figure 8. Douai Ms 785, fols. 5^v–6^r (original foliation fols. 7^v–8^r).

Figure 9. Douai Ms 785, fol. 6^v (original foliation fol. 8^v).

The final piece of music in quire A, ‘Hail Basilinda’ nun (copied on fols. 7^r–v, original foliation fols. 9^r–v), is one of two compositions in Douai Ms 785 dedicated to an English nun (Figures 10 and 11). Its title – ‘Made for Dame Ignatia Warner’ – likely refers to Dame Ignatia (née Susan) Warner, an English Benedictine at Dunkirk (1662–1711). ⁶¹ The piece is inscribed ‘Jan 27 1686 Wattenis’ at the end; given Ignatia Warner’s Jesuit father John Warner (1640–1705) was based in Watten in 1686, ⁶² this inscription suggests a scribal link with the English Jesuit college there. The place name and the rubrication – ‘made’ –differentiate this date from those given on the aforementioned English songs copied out of chronological order on fols. 1^r–v (original foliation fols. 3^r–v). The date and locale could record when and where the scribe or another anonymous agent ‘made’ the piece, though the meaning of ‘made’ – whether it refers to the composition of the text or music, or to the act of copying – remains unclear. Equally, the date could record when and where the piece was performed.

Figure 10. Douai Ms 785, fol. 7^r (original foliation fol. 9^r).

Figure 11. Douai Ms 785, fol. 7^v (original foliation fol. 9^v).

‘Hail Basilinda’ is a continuo song with similar characteristics to the Radford songs copied in the preceding folios. ⁶³ More unusual is the text set, particularly in its context as ‘made’ for a named English nun:

Hail Basilinda, whose auspicious reign

The happy golden age restores again:

Whose powerful voice makes stormes and tempests cease

Henceforth no creature shall disturb our peace.

No low’ring Discord, nor impetuous rage

In endlesse warres your subjects shall engage

All countries now shall Halcyon daies possesse

And to your influence ow their happinesse.

While ‘Basilinda’ was not a common term in late seventeenth-century parlance, some early modern English texts define it as an ancient Greek game involving a mock ruler chosen by chance. ⁶⁴ Other sources define it as a game for Twelfth Night, or celebrations surrounding the Feast of Epiphany which took place either the evening of 5 January, or throughout the day on 6 January (Epiphany). ⁶⁵

The selection of a mock ruler during Epiphanytide appears to have taken place at exiled English convents. In a letter dated 18 December 1706, Abbess Dorothy Blundell of the English Benedictine convent in Brussels wrote to Abbess Elizabeth Dabridgecourt of the English Benedictine convent in Pontoise, the mother house to the Dunkirk Benedictine convent, to ‘satisfy [Abbess Dabridgecourt] and Dames what is our customs’ regarding the Feast of St Thomas (21 December) and Epiphany. ⁶⁶ Blundell notes that a ‘queen’ was chosen on Epiphany eve via cakes, in which one cake had a bean in it. This queen would ‘rayne’ for the week of recreation before Septuagesima Sunday, after which Epiphanytide ended, and the pre-Lenten period (or Shrovetide) began. It appears the Pontoise house adopted this game, as Dabridgecourt copied instructions for the ritual into the abridged ceremonial for her community. ⁶⁷ In 1686, that week would have been from 10 to 17 February, starting two weeks after the date – 27 January – copied at the end of ‘Hail Basilinda’. However, Blundell mentions in her letter that ‘your howers beeing difirent [sic] from ours [you] may have altered your [celebrations]’. ⁶⁸ It is therefore possible that the Dunkirk nuns might have held their week of pre-Lenten recreation at a different time from their mother houses in Pontoise, Ghent, and Brussels, and thus the start of such a recreation week still a potential context for ‘Hail Basilinda’.

There are also deeper political connotations within the text. ‘Hail Basilinda’ was ‘made’ for Ignatia Warner in the year of her profession, at some point in 1686. As the item uses her religious name in the dedication, this song could be a part of celebrating Warner’s profession by giving thanks for a new, Catholic sovereign: King James II. Notions of new golden ages, akin to the rebirth of the Phoenix, complement reference to a return to ‘Halcyon daies’, perhaps an indication of the nuns’ belief in an imminent return of England to the ‘true faith’ under James II. ‘Halcyon’ days also has Classical connotations with the Greek myth of Alcyon, a grieving widow-turned-seabird whose sea-side nests relied on periods of calm amid the storms of winter. Like Alcyon, the Dunkirk convent’s location in a port on the north coast of France often meant they were geographically proximate to naval battles, with their home reliant on divine protection.

The contents of quire A1 contain a wide variety of unique English continuo songs for a variety of voices and purposes. Its marginalia and dedications suggest the scribe had a broad range of English monastic connections across Flanders. They collected music and texts from male monastic institutions and at least two pieces of music designed to be used (or in one case, definitely sung by) named English nuns. While further discussion of these connections will feature in the final part of this article, quires A2–A4 discussed next will highlight further connections with other English Catholic communities, including English convents in Ghent and Paris in the late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries.

Musical Contents: Quires A2–A4

‘Hail Basilinda’ marks the end of quire A1, and the last English-language song in Douai Ms 785. Quires A2–4 feature Italian vocal music primarily from late seventeenth-century Venetian and Roman schools (judging by ascertained composers or musical style). ⁶⁹ One of the secular arias, Giacomi Carissimi’s ‘Vittoria mio Cuore’, was extensively copied, with versions appearing in print in England by the 1650s. ⁷⁰ However, most of the other seventeen arias are either unique or relatively rare, thus far identified in only one or two other manuscripts. ‘Quell’ istessa ch’io miro’ is the item with the most concordances thus far identified, appearing in four other manuscripts, two of which belonged to English Catholics: Oxford Bodleian Ms. Mus. D.247 (a manuscript partially used by two pupils at the English Augustinian convent school in Paris) and Bibliothèque Nationale de France Rés VmC Ms-77 (the ‘Teynham’ manuscript). ⁷¹ Indeed, most of the music copied in quires A2–4 also features in F-Pn Rés VmC Ms 77 (the ‘Teynham’ manuscript); of the six items in Douai Ms 785 quires A2–4 that do not concord with the Teynham manuscript, three of these – ‘Pensieri d’amore partite da me’, ‘Son amante e non io come’, ‘Chi segue amor fallace’ – are Italian secular arias similar in style to other items in the Teynham manuscript. ⁷² These concordances, and what they reveal about Douai Ms 785, will be discussed later in this article.

There are four items within quires A2–4 that are unusual for their devotional nature. The first of these, ‘S’ul Horrida Scena’, is a short piece seemingly describing Mary Magdelen at the foot of the cross. ⁷³ The other three are all unique to Douai Ms 785; they comprise a devotional cantata, a Latin motet, and a Marian text (‘O Mater Salvatori’) not set to music. ⁷⁴ The first of these, ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’ (fols. 15^v–17^v, original foliation fols. 17^v–19^v), sets a text that seems primarily in Italian, but with the opening recitative fusing Latin and Spanish words. ⁷⁵ As best as can be translated, the text is a crucifixion meditation. The first section of the cantata opens with a recitative sung from a third-person perspective, in which the narrator describes watching a ‘publicano’, or publican, at the right-side of the cross being splashed with the blood from Christ’s side wound:

At the right hand of the free-flowing channel on the boughs of penance

the contrite publican takes refuge,

deadly clouds raining on the back of the supplicant[.]

The recitative continues in a second section, denoted by double bar, with the narrator describing the publican turning ‘both eyes’ towards the cross (‘Quando rivolto al crucifisso nume e l’un e l’altro lume’), and ‘from the arches of his mouth shoots these devout words’. ⁷⁶ These ‘devout words’ comprise the ensuing third recitative, again denoted by a double bar, and by a shift in perspective from omniscient narrator to first-person narration by the publican, who begs Christ to pardon those who seek forgiveness (‘Perdon Signore, perdono che degno e di perdon’). This is followed by an aria (labelled as such above the second system on fol. 16^r, original foliation fol. 18^r), the first section of which sees the publican submits himself as a ‘stubborn delinquent’ who takes hope in Christ’s wound that ‘though I am without worth, you [Christ] are not without pity[.]’ ⁷⁷ The second section is in triple-time, with the publican lamenting his inadequacies:

You bleed, I sin more; you love me, I do not kindle; you beg me, I do not surrender; you call to me and I feign deafness. ⁷⁸

The third section of the aria is in duple-time, but remains in first-person perspective, opening with calls to ‘my lovely spouse, my dearest desire, my God’ (‘Mio sposo vezzoso, mio caro desio, mio Dio’) who has been ‘wrongly pierced, hoisted onto the cross’ (‘ch’a torto confitto hafitto in croce’). This is followed by a fourth section in triple-time, copied using void notation, in which the first-person narrator – presumably the publican – calls for vengeance on those who have harmed Jesus. ⁷⁹

The use of the word ‘publicano’ in the libretti immediately calls to mind Luke 18:9–14 (the parable of the self-righteous Pharisee and the penitent publican). However, the poetic specifics used to describe the publican’s conversion are perhaps more evocative of the apocryphal figure of Longinus, the centurion who upon spearing Christ on the cross was cured of his blindness after his eyes were splashed with Christ’s blood and converted. Not only does the opening recitative text of ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’ evoke these sensory experiences, the conversion narrative of Longinus the Centurion would perhaps have resonated more strongly with the English Catholic owner, user, and/or scribe of Douai Ms 785 than that of the publican. ⁸⁰ The emphasis placed by this text on Christ’s wound as a source of mercy, or a refuge, is particularly evocative of references to Longinus and the spearing of Christ in late seventeenth-century English translations of St Augustine’s Meditations, commonly used across exiled English monastic houses. ⁸¹

The cantata’s text also emphasizes an erotic, loving relationship between the publican and Christ, including specifically identifying Christ as ‘spouse’ (‘Mio sposo vezzoso’). Poetic Figurery of Christ as bridegroom was used in a wide variety of contexts on the continent and in England, including crucifixion meditations written by early modern English Catholics from a male perspective. ⁸² However, this text does evoke Figurery strikingly similar to the Song of Songs, a Biblical text that underpinned not only the liturgies of investiture and profession for post-Tridentine nuns, but also their spiritual identities. ⁸³ Particularly notable is how the publican’s lament affectively evokes a penitent lover’s refusal to follow or heed Christ’s beckoning to love. Extracts from the Song of Songs used in investiture and profession ceremonies, as well as English translations of meditations by St Augustine used across exiled English convents, often describe how devotees should be ready to hear the call of their beloved, and not – in the words of the publican – ‘feign deafness’. ⁸⁴ The penitent publican’s failure to ‘kindle’ in response to the fires of (Christ’s) love is redolent of poetry and meditations used by English nuns, as well as convent epistolary evidence, which often emphasized the difficulty of balancing a desire for complete surrender to the Divine Love of Christ with the temptations of earthly life and their bodily needs or urges. ⁸⁵

The preceding themes do not necessarily cement ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’ as a piece definitively placeable in a convent context. However, the potential association of ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’ with convent spirituality is further supported by its place in the same quire as the other piece in Douai Ms 785 referring to a named English nun, ‘Inter Tumultuantis Saeculi’ (copied five folios after ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’ on fols. 20^r–21^r, original foliation fols. 22^r–23^r, Figures 12 and 13). ⁸⁶ This piece is entitled ‘A Mottet composed for Dame Caecilia Tasbourgh at Gant Sept: 4 1685’ and signed ‘Laus Deo T:K’. Likely dedicated to Dame Caecilia (née Catherine) Tasburgh (1649–?), an English Benedictine nun at Ghent, this unique motet is scored for high voice in C1 clef, a treble instrument, and basso continuo. It is similar to late seventeenth-century Roman vocal music, with a slow, recitative-like duple-time opening featuring solo voice and continuo, followed by a fast triple-time section. A part for a treble instrument (notated on fol. 21^r, original foliation fol. 23^r) was probably intended to accompany the voice in the triple-time section. ⁸⁷ The vocal line features a reasonably large range (a tenth, e′–g″) with some chromaticism and regular jumps of sixths and octaves, yet remains relatively melodic, setting a neo-Latin Marian text.

Figure 12. Douai Ms 785, fol. 20^r (‘Inter Tumultuantis’, original foliation fol. 22^r).

Figure 13. Douai Ms 785, fols. 20^v–21^r (original foliation fols. 22^v–23^r).

Ester Lebedinski’s work on Roman vocal music in Restoration England has suggested that by the end of the seventeenth century, this repertory had lost its specifically Catholic confessional implications and instead was valued by Anglicans as a sign of personal connoisseurship. ⁸⁸ Tasburgh’s motet, however, suggests that late seventeenth-century Roman vocal styles could be still closely valued within Catholic devotional practices. Claire Walker has emphasized the importance to English nuns of narratives that characterized the experience of exile and rigours of monastic life as an equivalent to the suffering experienced by martyrs at home in England. ⁸⁹ The text of Tasburgh’s motet alludes to the experience of exile, such as in the opening, recitative-like duple-time section:

After the tempestuous age of gales and storms,

the miserably troubled soul turns to the unknown,

while the strong, bright star of the sea watches on from far away,

with sighs and tears for the broken voices. ⁹⁰

The maritime connotations arguably recall the journey of English nuns across the Channel to the Low Countries to begin life anew in the convent. The vocal line for this passage evokes the ‘broken voices’ of those exiled across the water of the Channel through falling disjointed passages high in the vocal tessitura on the words ‘res voces’ (see the final three bars in Figure 12). The place of a neo-Latin Marian devotional motet in a travelling commonplace book seemingly used until at least 1699 suggests perhaps there was more room for Jesuit-influenced Roman vocal music among English singers than previously imagined.

The question remains as to how these pieces – ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’ and ‘Inter Tumultuantis Saeculi’ – relate to the other pieces in quires A2–4. Items on fols. 9^r–17^v (original foliation fols. 11^r–19^v) are numbered 1–8, with a ‘9’ rubbed out in the margins of fol. 16^r (original foliation fol. 18^r) in the middle of the piece ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’. The rubbed-out ‘9’ suggests that the scribe of Douai Ms 785 had initially planned to copy something else in this section, perhaps another piece of secular Venetian or Roman vocal music, but had to change their plan. The manuscript’s organization further supports the theory that ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’ was not originally intended to be copied in this place. The scribe began copying the piece preceding ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’, the popular song ‘Vittoria Mio Cuore’, on fol. 15^r (original foliation fol. 17^r, see Figure 14). Having copied the first verse, the scribe began copying the second verse near the bottom of fol. 15^r, but rather than continuing to copy this verse on the verso side of the folio (fol. 15^v, original foliation 17^v), commenced copying ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’. The scribe recommenced the second verse of ‘Vittoria, Mio Cuore’ on fol. 18^r (original foliation fol. 20^r, Figure 17), having completed a full copy of ‘Dextro Speco Ramito’.

Figure 14. Douai Ms 785, fol. 15^r (original foliation fol. 17^r).

Figure 15. Douai Ms 785, fols. 15^v–16^r (original foliation fols. 17^v–18^r).

Figure 16. Douai Ms 785, fols. 16^v–17^r (original foliation fols. 18^v–19^r).

Figure 17. Douai Ms 785, fols. 17^v–18^r (original foliation fols. 19^v–20^r).

The scribe also pauses copying a piece of Italian vocal music on fols. 26^r–28^r (original foliation fols. 27^r–29^r). On fol. 26^r, the scribe began copying ‘Chi segue amor fallace’ (a song with no concordances yet identified) but stopped mid-line at the end of fol. 26^v; on fol. 27^r, they copied a series of Marian verses, ‘O Mater Salvatori’. The scribe resumed their copy of ‘Chi segue’ on fol. 28^r. The symbol ://: copied between text in ‘O Mater Salvatori’ (Figure 18) is an abbreviatory symbol commonly used in notated music sources – both print and manuscript – to indicate that underlay should be repeated. This suggests that this text was intended to be sung, although to what music or tune remains unclear.

Figure 18. Douai Ms 785, fols. 26^v–27^r (original foliation fols. 27^v–28^r).

Why these items were copied in places the scribe seemingly did not originally intend to copy them remains unclear. However, these interruptions in copying in quires A2–4 only occur between pieces of secular vocal music and pieces of devotional music or text. It is possible the scribe organized quires A2–4 with the intention of copying Roman or Venetian vocal music, but occasionally paused to copy devotional items that were similar in style to the secular repertoire copied, particularly where they thought they might run out of room to completely copy a piece or a verse (as appears to be the case with the copy of the second verse of ‘Vittoria, Mio Cuore’, Figure 17).

How the scribe of Douai Ms 785 copied quires A2–4 (e.g., what resources they used, where they were located, when they were accessed) can in part be interrogated by investigating the repertoire’s place within the wider exiled English Catholic community. As noted earlier in this section, the Roman and Venetian vocal music copied in quires A2–4 are exceptionally rare, with many items featuring in only one other source of notated music, also owned by an exiled English Catholic: F-Pn Rés VmC MS 77 (the ‘Teynham’ manuscript). In order to shed more light on the music in quires A2–4, it is necessary to outline these concordances, and compare the circumstances of copying, usage, and ownership of these two manuscripts.

Douai Ms 785 and the Teynham Manuscript

A total of 15 of the 18 pieces of secular Italian vocal music in quires A2–4 of Douai Ms 785 concord with the Teynham manuscript; nine of these have thus far been identified only in these two manuscripts (Table 1). The three items that do not concord – ‘Pensieri d’amore partite da me’, ‘Son amante e non io come’, ‘Chi segue amor fallace’ – are highly similar in style to other items in the Teynham manuscript. ⁹¹

Table 1. A summary of concordances between Douai Ms 785 and the Teynham manuscript

Concordances between Douai Ms 785 and the Teynham manuscript	Other concordances
Quell’ istessa ch’io miro Douai Ms 785: fol. 9r (original foliation fol. 11r) Teynham Ms: 14v (p. 27)	Oxford Bodleian Ms. Mus. D.247 Bibliothèque Nationale de France Vm7–4 Yale University Misc. Ms 170, Filmer 27 Mecklenburgische Landesbibliothek (Schwerin) Mus.4718b
‘Dormite pensieri’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 9v (original foliation fol. 11v) Teynham Ms: fol. 131v (p. 261)	Harvard University Ms. Mus. 106 Oxford Bodleian Ms. Mus. D.255
‘No, non si speri e morta’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 10r (original foliation fol. 12r) Teynham Ms: fol. 104v (p. 207)	Biblioteca Casanatense (Rome) Mss. 2226.22 Harvard University Ms. Mus. 106
‘Non e tempo di viver’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 10v (original foliation fol. 12v) Teynham Ms: fol. 114v (p. 228)	None
‘Speranze che dite’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 12r (original foliation fol. 14r) Teynham Ms: fol. 82v (p. 163)	None
‘Siano per tutte finite’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 13r (original foliation fol. 15r) Teynham Ms: fol. 1v (p. 1)	Biblioteca Casanatense (Rome) Baini Ms 2226
‘Non dorme cuor mio’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 14r (original foliation fol. 16r) Teynham Ms: fol. 34v (p. 67)	British Library, Harley 1863 a
‘Vittoria mio cuore’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 15r, 18r (original foliation fol. 17r, 20r) Teynham Ms: fol. 16v (p. 31)	Playford’s Select Musicall Ayres (1653) book 1 Bibliothèque Nationale de France Rés VM7–59–101 Conservatoire royal de Bruxelles Ms 586 Kungliga biblioteket, Stockholm S 231 British Library Add. Ms. 11608 Christ Church (Oxford) Ms. Mus. 17, 350 Herzog August Bibliothek, Wolfenbüttel Cod. Guelf.11 Noviss. 2o (Nr. 8)
‘Chi mi turba il riposo’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 19r (original foliation fol. 21r) Teynham Ms: fol. 19v (p. 37)	None
‘Su’l horrida scena’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 23r (original foliation fol. 24r) Teynham Ms: fol. 24r (p. 46)	None
‘Non ti diss’io, O filli amata’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 25r (original foliation fol. 26r) Teynham Ms: fol. 32v (p. 63)	None
‘Dove n’andro che non mi segua amor’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 25v (original foliation fol. 26v) Teynham Ms: fol. 9r (p. 16)	None
‘O mia filli gradita’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 28v (original foliation fol. 29v) Teynham Ms: fol. 107v (p. 213)	Bibliothèque Nationale de France attributes first publication to Valvasensi Lazzaro, Terzo giardino d’amorosi fiori a 1 e 2 voci (1630). Version for theorbo found in Lambeth Palace Library Ms 1041 (‘Lady Anne Blount’s music book’)
‘Una cetra l’accoglie’ Douai Ms 785: fol. 29v (original foliation fol. 30v) Teynham Ms: fol. 109v (p. 217)	None

^a I am very grateful to Margaret Murata for sharing her notes and theories regarding the Teynham manuscript with me.

Given the relative rarity of these pieces, and that the concordances are entirely confined to quires A2–4, it seems the scribe of Douai Ms 785 either utilized connections with the scribe, compiler, owners, and/or users of the Teynham manuscript when copying quires A2–4, or had access to the same collection of music. Assessing provenance and/or usage of the Teynham manuscript and its contents might therefore offer insight into its relation to Douai Ms 785.

The Teynham manuscript was at some point owned by the recusant Barons Teynham, the Ropers of Linsted Lodge in Kent. The Roper family crest features on the front board, and bears the inscription ‘The Right Hon[oura]ble Henry Roper Baron of Teynham 1703’ (Figure 19), while a signature ‘Teynham’ is also found on the table of contents (Figure 20). At least the former iteration – if not both – refers to Henry Roper, 8th baronet (c. 1676–1723), son of Christopher Roper, 5th Baron Teynham. ⁹² Codicological evidence suggests that the Teynham manuscript was compiled by a single English hand onto paper most likely from England or the Low Countries. ⁹³

Figure 19. ‘Teynham’ manuscript, front paste-down. Source: Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

Figure 20. ‘Teynham’ manuscript, fol. 1^r. Source: Bibliothèque Nationale de France.

Who compiled the Teynham manuscript, and who used it, can in part be ascertained by examining the whereabouts of Henry Roper, 8th Baron Teynham and his family members. Most of the family’s connections with Catholic institutions were with exiled English convents. ⁹⁴ The family fled to the continent during Monmouth’s Rebellion in 1685, and remained in exile in the Low Countries until 1716, when Henry Roper 8th Baronet conformed and took his seat in the House of Lords. ⁹⁵ Henry and his eight siblings were orphaned in 1689, as their father died in Brussels in 1688, followed by their mother in October/November of 1689. ⁹⁶ Henry’s sisters – from eldest to youngest, Elizabeth, Mary, Philadelphia, Winefride, Anne, Frances, and Katherine – were placed at the English Augustinian convent in Paris, where they remained primarily resident from around 1690/92 until 1707. ⁹⁷ During this time, Mary and Philadelphia professed as choir nuns at the convent in 1695 and 1700, respectively. ⁹⁸

When Henry inherited the baronetcy in 1699 after both his elder brothers died, ⁹⁹ he appears to have joined his sisters at the English Augustinian convent in Paris for some time. The convent’s Diurnal notes on 28 October 1699: ‘My Lord Teynham came to Paris, & Dyated [boarded] ¹⁰⁰ for some time at ye Monastery w[i]th Mr Dod a Priest his L[ordships?] Governor[.]’ ¹⁰¹ He then re-located ‘to his new Lodgings’ on 9 December 1699. ¹⁰² Given the Diurnal generally notes when an individual is returning to England, or even leaving Paris for elsewhere in France, this entry suggests that Lord Teynham was still nearby in the city. The next mention of Henry Roper’s location is 31 May 1700, amid concerns over his sisters’ dowries in the wake of enactment of the Popery Act of 1698. The Diurnal records that Henry’s uncle, and executor of Henry and his sisters’ estate, Henry Browne – 5th Viscount Montagu and secretary to the exiled James II – had ‘pretended to defray’ £100 from each of his sisters Mary and Philadelphia’s portions on their investiture as novices at the English Augustinian convent in Paris in 1698 and 1700, respectively. Browne claimed this discount was allocated because Mary and Philadelphia had ‘learned to play upon ye organs’. ¹⁰³ In order to pay this difference, the Diurnal noted that ‘My Ld Teynham should come tod[a]y, ye security for ye sayd Annuity of thirty pds to be payd out of my sayd Ld Teynham’s estate would prove no force, & therefore we desired yt either security might be given in France.’ ¹⁰⁴ The Diurnal indicates that two months later on 14 July, Lord Teynham visited the convent, and ‘being under age of giving any legal security for remaining of ye sayd apprehension, gave his word of honor before witnesses’ that if his sisters’ annuity was seized upon due to acts of Parliament, he would ‘indemnify ye Monastery upon [his] account’. ¹⁰⁵ Lord Teynham is next mentioned in the Diurnal as bringing some game he hunted to the convent for a dinner on 3 February 1701. ¹⁰⁶ No further mention is made of formal visits.

In summary, the Teynham manuscript was copied by an English scribe mainly for use by English Catholics, probably in the 1690s or 1700s. Shortly before acquiring the Teynham manuscript in 1703, Henry Roper 8th Baronet and his sisters were mainly based in Paris, and at least in part at the English Augustinian convent there. The current residence of the Teynham manuscript in Paris at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, with no evidence that the manuscript ever left France for England or elsewhere, suggests it remained in Paris from around 1703.

Where the music was copied remains a matter for conjecture. The scribe had access to rare music circulated via English Catholic networks, and judging by concordances with Douai Ms 785, specifically networks proximate to exiled English monastic institutions (including English convents). One possible location could be an exiled English Catholic institution such as the Jacobite court at St-Germaine-en-Laye. This institution was where musicians such as David Nairne and Innocenzo Fede were based, both of whom collected Italian music, and both of whom engaged with English convents in exile. ¹⁰⁷ The institutional connections held by the Roper family also situate the Teynham manuscript as proximate to the English Augustinian convent in Paris. While all English convents in France, particularly those in Paris, engaged closely the Jacobite court at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, this convent had particularly close bonds with the royal family. ¹⁰⁸ The English Augustinians in Paris also had close connections with David Nairne via his daughters Françoise and Marie, who spent much of their life at the convent (Marie even becoming a novice for a time). ¹⁰⁹ The Roper sisters themselves also routinely moved between the convent and the Jacobite court. For instance, in 1703 (the year inscribed on the Teynham manuscript), Anne Roper went to St Germain-en-Laye on 4 July, returning to the convent two weeks later. ¹¹⁰ On 31 January 1704, the convent’s Diurnal notes Katherine went to ‘the Ursulines of St-Germain-en-Laye […] to Learne of Monsr Feydy to play ye Grounds of Musicke upon the harpsicalls’. ¹¹¹ This anecdote links her, and arguably by proxy the convent she lived and studied at, with a flourishing Italianate music culture, which she accessed around the year inscribed on the Teynham manuscript.

The preceding contextual evidence regarding the Teynham family places the Teynham manuscript within the cultural milieu of exiled English Catholic communities in late seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century Paris, with particular proximity to the English Augustinian convent there and the Jacobite court at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. The analysis of concordances suggests the scribe and/or compiler of the Teynham manuscript and the scribe of Douai Ms 785 were operating in the same cultural milieu, using similar (or perhaps even the same) institutional networks. Although Douai Ms 785 bears links to English monastic institutions in Flanders and Walloon (both male and female), these institutions were closely interlinked with their Parisian counterparts and frequently exchanged material and personnel, particularly after the establishment of the Jacobite court at Saint-Germain-en-Laye. ¹¹² The shared repertoire between these manuscripts arguably speaks to the role of English Catholic communities, and particularly exiled English convents, in the circulation of vocal music across France and the Low Countries in the late seventeenth century.

Ascribing (and De-scribing) Douai Ms 785

Given it lacks any liturgical vocal music (e.g., plainchant or plainchant-musicale), it is unlikely that Douai Ms 785 is directly related to this article’s opening anecdote, in which the English Benedictine monk Dominic Green surreptitiously collected rare, secret music from the French convent of Val-de-Grace on paper ‘prepared for this purpose’. ¹¹³ However, like Dominic Green, the scribe of Douai Ms 785 was most likely an English Catholic immersed in English monastic culture in the 1680s and 1690s, copying roughly on hand-ruled staves music and text that was not widely in circulation, including from convents that did not promote their music in notated form (either in publication or manuscript). As such, Douai Ms 785 represents the kind of musical cross-fertilization captured in Weldon’s account of Dominic Green’s endeavours, in which exiled English convents played a crucial role. While its contents and organization arguably reflect the wider miscellaneous nature of exiled English Catholic music cultures, this article has shown that Douai Ms 785 does contain the kinds of knowledge – both musical and general – that both exiled English nuns and English Jesuits would have found useful. In order to balance the previous assumption of Jesuit ownership and/or usage, this article has provided examples of exiled English nuns and lay women boarders who had access to the same cultural milieu as the scribe of Douai Ms 785, and convent contexts in the manuscript’s contents may have been useful.

Despite careful comparison of handwritings with sources across British Catholic collections – both within Britain and across Europe – a precise scribal match for Douai Ms 785 (either for music or text) has yet to be identified. However, the evidence outlined in this article can be used to establish the scribe’s dates, locale, demographic, and interests. The scribe was likely an English Catholic working roughly from 1685 until at least 1699. They had access to unpublished texts by Joseph Radford, an English Jesuit based at least partly in Liège, music from the English Benedictine convent in Ghent, and either accessed or themselves ‘made’ a song for an English Benedictine nun in Dunkirk. They also had access to the same collation of rare Italian vocal music sources as the scribe of the Teynham manuscript (or perhaps even copied from the Teynham manuscript itself), suggesting connections with exiled English Catholics based in Paris, either near or at the English Augustinian convent. The scribe was likely well versed in Latin, familiar with French and Italian, and learning Hebrew. They had access to treatises on a range of topics including medicinal remedies, ecclesiastical history, classical history, ecclesiastical structure, and heraldry. The codicological evidence suggests the manuscript was compiled in order to collect music, texts, and information over time, with some adjustments needed during this process. While it is possible the scribe was based in one place and copied music and texts either brought to them or acquired over time, it seems more likely that the scribe used Douai Ms 785 to copy material encountered in a different location or locations. For what precise purpose Douai Ms 785 was copied (i.e., for personal use, for their own institution’s use, or for use by another person or institution) remains unclear.

Although Leech and Whitehead’s theory of Thomas Kingsley as scribe of Douai Ms 785 is likely incorrect, a Jesuit candidate as the scribe is certainly a strong possibility. As previously noted, the manuscript’s former owner, James Peter Coghlan, also purchased one of the Jesuit libraries in the Low Countries when they were suppressed in the 1770s (most likely from one of the colleges, i.e., St Omers, Watten, or Bruges). ¹¹⁴ It is possible that this book came with the purchase, and that Coghlan was with the English Franciscan Recollects in Douai when he purchased said Jesuit library. Equally, there were plenty of English Catholic men – relatives, friends, or clergy – going between English convents with materials like Douai Ms 785 or the Teynham manuscript, such as Father Dominic Green, the English Benedictine monk who procured music for the English Benedictine convent in Dunkirk (mentioned in the opening vignette to this article). ¹¹⁵ Another candidate for scribe might be the father of the Dunkirk Benedictine Ignatia Warner (dedicatee of ‘Hail Basilinda’), the aforementioned John Warner, who routinely travelled between Paris, Watten, Douai, and Liège, and was a major supporter of the English Benedictine convents at Pontoise and Dunkirk. ¹¹⁶

However, the connections with male monastic orders evident in Douai Ms 785 do not necessarily mean that it was compiled by and/or for male monastic usage, and they should not detract from the book’s connections with an English convent context. English Jesuits were known to purchase music from exiled English convents, and as previously established, English convents constantly exchanged books over the convent wall (including with English Catholic men). ¹¹⁷ It is possible that Coghlan acquired the book via one of his daughters at the English convent of Poor Clares in Aire. Indeed, the phrasing of the inscription on the front flyleaf – ‘Mr. James Peter Coghlan with the English Recolets at Douay, a ms of value’ – is more reminiscent of early modern instructions for delivery of a book.

Evidence of libraries at English monastic institutions suggests the back pages of Douai Ms 785 would have been useful to both male and female institutions. For example, items similar to the first four written sections (i.e., ‘Collao I. De conciliis’, ‘De moribus veterum patriarcherum’) and the ‘Brevis Praxis Medica’ section appear not only in English Jesuit and Benedictine monks’ libraries, but also in English convent libraries. ¹¹⁸ There are particular similarities between the titles and contents of Douai Ms 785 and the titles featured in a catalogue for the library of the English Benedictine convent at Dunkirk, where the dedicatee of ‘Hail Basilinda’ (Dame Ignatia Warner) was based. Compiled around the time of the convent’s dispersal amid the French Revolution, the catalogue indicates the convent library contained, among other things, ‘Basilii Magni opera Latine Impressa anno 1520’, Richard Knolles’ The Generall Historie of the Turkes (first published in 1603), ‘Turkish H[is]try, 7 volumes’, Summa theologiae moralis doctoris angelici s. thomaem (n.d.) and an item listed as ‘scripture & antiquity concerning ye Doctrine of ye church for ye 1st 500 years after Christ’. ¹¹⁹ The library also had a rich classics section, with the catalogue listing sources such as ‘Irenaus adversus harese’, ‘Seneca’s Morals’, ‘Epicturus’s [sic] Morals’, Johann Scapula’s Lexicon Graeco-Latinum, and an item titled ‘Ecclesiastical History translated from the Greek of Eusebius, Socrates, & Evagrius Printed an.1619’. ¹²⁰ The library clearly contained several medical treatises, including an item titled ‘Praxis Medica’, a copy of Pharmacopoeia Londinensis (1668), Pharmacopaeca Edinburgensi (unclear which edition), Medicina statica (no date given), An Essay Concerning the Nature of Aliments (John Arbuthnot, 1735). ¹²¹ The catalogue also notes having a copy of John Guillim’s A Display of Heraldrie (first published 1611, republished by Jacob Blome in London, 1660). ¹²²

While the dispersal of monastic libraries amid the late eighteenth-century revolutions remains unclear, archival material from exiled English monasteries (including the convents) does appear in several municipal libraries in northern France. ¹²³ The final abbess of Teignmouth Abbey (where the English Benedictines at Dunkirk eventually settled post-expulsion), Dame Mildred Murray Sinclair, noted that what remains in the archives was largely due to efforts by a Mrs Jarvis, ‘who in the early nineteenth century scoured the Municipal Archives, the Dunkirk Library and other Offices, from which she recovered whatever she could, especially books and mortuary notices’. ¹²⁴ Equally, the nineteenth-century historian M. A. Bonvarlet noted that some of the convent’s music was deposited in the Dunkirk municipal library. ¹²⁵

The Dunkirk convent was also closely intertwined with the exiled Jacobite court at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, with one connection being the aforementioned John Caryll, Jacobite peer, secretary to Mary of Modena, one of Abbess Mary Caryll’s brothers, and an agent for the convent. ¹²⁶ If the concordances between the Teynham manuscript and Douai Ms 785 are in fact a result of links to music from Saint-Germain-en-Laye, the Dunkirk convent would thus remain a possibility for one of the potential places for use and/or compilation of Douai Ms 785. Someone like John Caryll, or one of the many other relatives of the Dunkirk nuns who were active at Saint-Germain-en-Laye, could easily have acted as a go-between for the convent, either bringing material to the convent or from the convent elsewhere. ¹²⁷

Apart from go-betweens in the form of family members, pensioners, pupils, or clergy, the convents contained lay sisters who could travel freely to and from the institution. While general assumption among English convent scholars has often been that lay sisters were less educated, as their dowry was lower and generally came from less wealthy families, this was not always the case, with many lay sisters recorded as being highly literate, ¹²⁸ or professing as a lay sister as a sign of humility. ¹²⁹ Lay sisters at English convents were sometimes highly musically trained, such as the organist at the English Benedictine convent in Brussels, Margaret Urmstone (d. 1700). ¹³⁰ They potentially even included daughters of professional musicians. For example, in 1666 the French travel writer Jean-Baptiste de Rocoles described a ‘small concert’ of nuns singing with a viol consort at the English Benedictine convent in Dunkirk, and noted one of viol was ‘wonderfully played by a lay sister, the daughter of an English musician’. ¹³¹ Said lay sister has been difficult to place a name to, as few lay sisters are recorded in the Dunkirk Benedictine records; indeed, recent research by Emilie Murphy has suggested that lay sisters were generally poorly recorded in English convent records. ¹³²

Equally, choir nuns did not always strictly adhere to the rules of enclosure. While James Kelly has provided compelling evidence of English nuns zealously embracing their voluntary confinement, this was not uniform. ¹³³ For example, in 1701, three anonymous gentlemen reported visiting the English Benedictine convent at Dunkirk and meeting the ‘organist of the house’ Cecilia Conyers (1660–1710), who they report ‘understands musick, it seems, very well’. ¹³⁴ The visitors note on enquiring about ‘the constitutions of the house’, that Conyers reportedly told them in no uncertain terms that a nun never left the convent after profession ‘except by a dispensation from the Bishop of the Diocese, a privilege rarely granted’. The visitors then note, however, that they ‘have been informed that Dame Cecilia has been often at Canterbury [her home pre-profession] since she was a Nun’. ¹³⁵ While this anecdote may not necessarily indicate complete truth, there are accounts of travel by English choir nuns, particularly for the purposes of either founding new houses or moving houses. ¹³⁶ Particularly notable are the relatively frequent travels of the first Abbess of the English Benedictine convent at Dunkirk, Mary Teresa (née Mary) Caryll (1630–1712), across England, France, and the Low Countries. ¹³⁷

Cecilia Conyers, however, is an interesting potential point of contact with Douai Ms 785. Conyers’ Jesuit brother, Christopher (1669–1730), was based at Watten in 1688–93, and again in 1696. ¹³⁸ He undertook his tertiary year at Ghent in 1697, before returning to Watten from 1697 to 1698. ¹³⁹ As Leech and Whitehead have noted, the Dunkirk nuns described Christopher as having ‘played Very finely on the bass viol, some of the pieces which he performed being his own composition’. ¹⁴⁰ Leech and Whitehead have also suggested that the Jesuit Thomas Conyers, another musician at the Jesuit college at St Omers active in the 1680s and 1690s, was a relation of these two musicians. ¹⁴¹ Thomas Conyers’ dates in particular align closely with those in Douai Ms 785, as he undertook his novitiate in Watten in 1686, the same year inscribed under ‘Hail Basilinda’. ¹⁴² It is possible that Cecilia Conyers or one of her brothers was the scribe of Douai Ms 785 and used it to gather music either from the Dunkirk Benedictine convent or for the convent’s use.

One final order of religious women crucial to note as potential scribal candidates are the sisters of the Institute for the Blessed Virgin Mary (IBVM, also known as the Loreto sisters). The IBVM were a female order founded by Mary Ward as an unenclosed Ignatian-styled order, dedicated to education and missionary work. Ward and her followers established houses first in St Omer and Watten in 1609, followed by houses in Liège, Cologne, Trier, Rome, Naples, Munich, Vienna, and Prague. ¹⁴³ As they operated in direct contradiction to stipulations established by the Council of Trent, they were formally suppressed in 1631; however, Ward and her followers continued their activities without official recognition. ¹⁴⁴ On Ward’s death in 1645, her followers continued her work both across houses in Europe and in England, founding an IBVM convent in Hammersmith (London) in 1669, and in York in 1686. In 1703, the second iteration of the institute established by Anna Barbara Babthorpe (1647–1711) received formal approbation from Pope Clement XI. ¹⁴⁵

The foundational guidelines for the order placed emphasis on the importance of teaching music, including ‘singing, playing musical instruments […] [and] playing the organ’. ¹⁴⁶ Members of the IBVM community were known to have learned Hebrew, Greek, and theology. ¹⁴⁷ The written contents of Douai Ms 785 thus coincide with the kinds of materials that would have been useful to the IBVM sisters, who taught music (including liturgical music) to a high level in their schools. ¹⁴⁸ Little more can be said beyond this, as the IBVM convents have been excluded from studies of English convent music thus far due to the order’s extraordinary nature as a suppressed, unenclosed, yet thriving community. Further research is necessary on the sisters’ musical lives and influence as mobile cultural and religious agents, particularly within book networks.

Conclusions

Ultimately, the links between Douai Ms 785 and exiled English Catholic communities and institutions – from convents to courts to Jesuit colleges – are manifold and overlapping. Not only is it impossible to precisely define the contexts for its compilation and usage, but also it is arguably unnecessary to do so. This article has hopefully demonstrated the need to interpret early modern music manuscripts (particularly miscellanies) as often reflective of fluid music cultures in which repertoire and knowledge was not necessarily defined by strict gender binaries. To isolate a musical miscellany as the product of a single institution or single individual, rather than the product of many overlapping musical networks and communities, often results in the prioritizing of named, often male, individuals as the creators of the object, at the obfustication of all others involved. Douai Ms 785 is an excellent example of how embracing the complexity of evidence within music manuscripts allows for a broader understanding of historical musical communities, particularly for those communities – like exiled English convents – who existed at cultural crossroads and regularly engaged in varying amounts of self-effacement. Future research into manuscripts such as Douai Ms 785 will hopefully uncover more evidence of such communities and develop more methodologies for analysis.