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The queen of courtly dance: music and choreography of the bassadanza and basse danse

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The queen of courtly dance: music and choreography of the bassadanza and basse danse

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Content THE QUEEN OF COURTLY DANCE:
MUSIC AND CHOREOGRAPHY OF THE BASSADANZA AND BASSE DANSE
by
Adam Bregman
A Dissertation Presented to the
FACULTY OF THE GRADUATE SCHOOL
UNIVERSITY OF SOUTHERN CALIFORNIA
In Partial Fulfillment of the
Requirements for the Degree
DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY
HISTORICAL MUSICOLOGY
May 2024
Copyright 2024 Adam Bregman

ii
Dedication
This dissertation is for many people at once:
It is for Sonia, Liam, and Lou—thank you for your encouragement and all you have given me.
It is for Daniel Heartz and his protégé, my teacher Bruce Brown, whose enthusiasm and virtuosic
scholarship on historical music and dance, and whose beautiful writing and storytelling, have
inspired me above all else and have been a steadfast beacon of the type of inspiring work I always
want to strive towards.
It is in memory of my Aunt Mary, who succumbed to illness before I could finish, and for her son—
my cousin—Joe, who will also soon finish his degree in music.
And it is for K. of Austria, my dance partner and without whose help and support I simply could
not have finished. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
B b C
W
w w w ˙w œœ˙ ˙ W

iii
Acknowledgements
I would not have been able to complete this dissertation without the help, input, and collaboration
of many people in the United States and Europe, to whom I would like to express my sincerest
gratitude:
To my advisor, Adam Knight Gilbert, who worked tirelessly with me throughout the pandemic,
meeting every night in his garage, to discuss fifteenth- and sixteenth-century dance, posit and
question new notions and theories, step through the choreographies, and work on historically
informed musical settings (and, when we grew weary of all that, looking at musical palindromes and
invertible motives in the works of Johannes Ockeghem!). And to his advisor, Ross W. Duffin, for
the use of his Chigi font.
To my committee members, Adam Gilbert, Rotem Gilbert, Bruce Alan Brown, Bruce Smith, and
Leah Morrison, who have always been encouraging and supportive and enthusiastic about my work.
To Lisa Pon and the Working Progress group at USC for being a necessary writing support group
during the pandemic and for giving me a reason to want to keep writing during difficult times.
To Malachai Bandy and his students enrolled in “Engaging Music” and in “Listening to Queer
Voices: Radical Identities, Performance, and Transgression in Music from Hildegard to House” at
Pomona College in the fall 2022 semester, who engaged in discussions of Renaissance dance and
enthusiastically tripped a ballo choreography.
To David Burn, Bart Demuyt, Paul Kolb, and Grantley McDonald of the Alamire Foundation for
creating the opportunity to study the dances in Margaret of Austria’s basse danse book, entrusting that
work to Adam Gilbert and me, and for giving us valuable feedback as we wrote our study.
To the amazing team of dancers—Véronique Daniels and Alain Christen—and musicians—Wim
Becu, Clara Coutouly, Adam Gilbert, Rotem Gilbert, Paul Kieffer, Marc Lewon, Marie-Ange Petit,
Elisabeth Schollaert, Elizabeth Sommers, and Mara Winter—who brought the basse danse back to life
in AMUZ, Antwerp in October 2022 and again in February 2023, making a dream become a reality.
To Ann Kelders of the KBR in Brussels, Belgium for allowing me to see the treasure that is
Margaret of Austria’s basse danse book and put my head down on the pillow next to it and whisper
sweet nothings!
And to Katharina Haun and Bruce Brown for tirelessly reading through chapter after chapter of this
dissertation, giving me invaluable suggestions and corrections, and rereading corrected and amended
texts.
(Didn’t believe me, did you?)

iv
Table of Contents
Dedication............................................................................................................................................................ ii
Acknowledgements............................................................................................................................................iii
List of Tables...................................................................................................................................................... vi
List of Figures....................................................................................................................................................vii
Source Abbreviations and Terminology..........................................................................................................x
Abstract........................................................................................................................................................... xviii
Preface................................................................................................................................................................ xx
Chapter 1: Setting the Stage: Cultural History, Fifteenth-Century Sources, and Terminology.............. 1
1.1. Primary Sources and Their Authors................................................................................. 5
1.1.A. Italy.................................................................................................................................... 5
1.1.A.i. Concepts and Steps....................................................................................................... 8
1.1.A.ii. The Dances..................................................................................................................13
1.1.B. France and Burgundy.................................................................................................... 19
1.1.B.i. The Dance, the Steps, and the Choreographies......................................................21
1.1.B.ii. The Music of Br9085 and Toulouze........................................................................29
Chapter 2: The Problems: A Historiography................................................................................................33
Chapter 3: From Song to Dance: Courtly dance in the Early and Mid-Fifteenth Century...................48
3.1. The Origins and Early History of the basse danse and bassadanza................................48
3.1.A. The Close Relationships between Song and Dance.................................................50
3.1.A.i. Interrelationships among the Dance Tenors.......................................................... 60
3.2. The Transformation of Song to Dance: A Case Study................................................62
3.3. Early Choreographies........................................................................................................68
3.3.A. Bassedanze.........................................................................................................................68
3.3.B. Basses danses......................................................................................................................71
Chapter 4: Bassadanza or “bassadanza francese”? Regional Distinctions in the Italian and FrancoBurgundian Traditions to 1500.................................................................................................. 75
4.1. Bassadanza or “bassadanza francese”?..................................................................................78
4.1.A. The Notes of the basse danse Double in Length........................................................ 80
4.2. The Mensural basses danses.................................................................................................90
Chapter 5: Vulgarization of the Court Dance: The basse danse in the Sixteenth Century.......................95
5.1. The Sources and Their Authors...................................................................................... 96
5.1.A. New Precisions in the Dance, the Steps, and the Choreographies........................98
5.1.B. A New Musical Language...........................................................................................104

v
Chapter 6: Following the Footsteps of La Spagna: A Case Study............................................................114
6.1. Early bassadanza Settings of La Spagna..........................................................................126
6.1.A. Melodic Variants in bassadanza Settings................................................................... 139
6.2. Rhythmic Variants: The Hoftanz..................................................................................144
6.3. The basse danse...................................................................................................................149
6.3.A. Related Melodies? .......................................................................................................161
6.3.B. The basse danse (in)commune.......................................................................................... 165
Chapter 7: Conclusion....................................................................................................................................172
Bibliography.....................................................................................................................................................178

vi
List of Tables
Table 1.1: The natural movements and the time they occupy in the bassadanza misura.........................11
Table 1.2: The nine types of mesure in the fifteenth-century basse danse................................................... 25
Table 3.1: Archetypal cadential formulae of the dance tenors followed by their models.................... 56
Table 5.1: The six types of mesure in the sixteenth-century basse danse according to Moderne...........102

vii
List of Figures
Figure 0.1: Couple dancing.............................................................................................................................xx
Figure 1.1: Fifteenth-century depictions of dance........................................................................................ 1
Figure 1.2: Hierarchy of the misure according to Domenico.....................................................................16
Figure 1.3: Proportional comparison of bassadanza to saltarello and of bassadanza to piva.....................17
Figure 1.4: “Tenore Collinetto,” V, fols. 33r-v........................................................................................... 19
Figure 1.5: “La margarite a xxxviii notes a v. mesures/.”......................................................................... 26
Figure 1.6: The Nancy choreographies....................................................................................................... 27
Figure 1.7: “Le petit Rouen” and “Filles a marier”.................................................................................... 29
Figure 1.8: “Lesperance de bourbon”.......................................................................................................... 30
Figure 1.9: “La franchoise nouvelle et le faut iuer .ii. fois”.......................................................................31
Figure 2.1: “Le hault et le bas”...................................................................................................................... 36
Figure 2.2: “La franchoise nouvelle” with rhythm and step distribution according to Closson........ 38
Figure 2.3: “Le hault et le bas” according to Riemann..............................................................................39
Figure 3.1: Gilet Velut, “Je voel servir plus c’onques,” Ox213, fol. 89r................................................. 49
Figure 3.2: Comparison of chanson and related basse danse tenors....................................................... 52-54
Figure 3.3: Comparison of “three-of-a-kind” tenors.................................................................................63
Figure 3.4: “Du pist mein hort” (Tr87, fol. 109r) ..................................................................................... 64
Figure 3.5: “Je voel servir,” phrases 1 and 2............................................................................................... 66
Figure 3.6: Conjectured three-voice version of “Je suy si povre de liesce,” opening phrase.............. 67
Figure 3.7: Comparison of the opening section of bassadanza in the ballo “Prexonara”.......................71
Figure 3.8: Metrical comparison of groups of three pas simples................................................................ 73
Figure 3.9: The choreography of the “basse dance de la royne de cessile”............................................73
Figure 3.10: The choreography of the “basse dance de bourbon”..........................................................74

viii
Figure 4.1: “Bassadança Francese chiamata borges in doi,” Pa, fol. 43v................................................78
Figure 4.2: The bassadanza “Cançon de pifari dicto ‘el Ferrarese,’” V, fols. 32v-33r............................ 79
Figure 4.3: Comparison of the tenors of “Du pist mein hort” and “Qui latuit in virgine”.................80
Figure 4.4: “Je sui povere de leesse a xlii notes a v mesures,” Br9085, no. 46...................................... 81
Figure 4.5: The first mesure of “Je sui povere de leesse”............................................................................83
Figure 4.6: “Roti boully ioyeulx en pas de breban”/“Roti bolli ioieulx”................................................84
Figure 4.7: “Rostiboli gioioso/El gioioso,” Pa, fol. 66r............................................................................ 85
Figure 4.8: Different permutations of “Je voel servir plus c’onques”...............................................86-87
Figure 4.9: Basse danse section of “Roti boully ioyeulx” with musical corrections.................................89
Figure 4.10: “La franchoise nouvelle et le faut iuer .ii. fois,” Br9085, no. 58........................................ 91
Figure 4.11: “La danse de cleves,” Br9085, no. 57..................................................................................... 93
Figure 5.1: “Jouyssance vous donneray”............................................................................................105-106
Figure 5.2: Comparison of the metrical subdivision of the long........................................................... 108
Figure 5.3: Four-voice basses danses....................................................................................................... 111-12
Figure 6.1: “Tenore del Re di spagna,” V, fols. 32r-v..............................................................................114
Figure 6.2: “Casulle la novele a xlvi notes a cincq mesures comme il appert,” Toulouze, no. 10.... 117
Figure 6.3: Hans Kotter, “Spaniol Kochersberg,” mm. 1-8................................................................... 122
Figure 6.4: Concordant two-voice settings of La Spagna..................................................................... 127
Figure 6.5: La Spagna settings in Perugia, Biblioteca Comunale Augusta, MS 1013..................... 130-31
Figure 6.6: “Falla con misuras” with the choreography “El bayli de Spagna” underlaid.................. 132
Figure 6.7: “La Spagna,” Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q18, fols. 48v-49r..134
Figure 6.8: “La Spagna,” Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q18, fols. 49v-50r..135
Figure 6.9: Henricus Isaac, Agnus II, Missa La Spagna............................................................................136
Figure 6.10: F. de la Torre, “Alta”.............................................................................................................. 140

ix
Figure 6.11: de la Torre, “Alta,” tenor voice with the Spagna choreography from NYp/Siena........ 143
Figure 6.12: “Spanieler. Jo. Kotter”............................................................................................................145
Figure 6.13: “Spaniol. M[agister]. H[ans]. V[on]. Constantz”................................................................ 147
Figure 6.14: “Spanyöler Tancz: Hans Weck organist zu Friburg im Brisgau”.....................................148
Figure 6.15: Anonymous, “La Spagna,” Canti C, fols. 147v-149r......................................................... 150
Figure 6.16: Tenor voice from the ensemble basse danse settings of La Spagna.................................... 152
Figure 6.17: Examples illustrating the improvisatory character of “La spagne tanz”.........................153
Figure 6.18: Left: Ghiselin, “La Spagna,” final cadence (mm. 87ff.)
Right: Josquin(?), “La Spagne tanz,” final cadence (mm. 87ff.)...................................... 155
Figure 6.19: Francesco Spinacino, “Bassadans,” mm. 1-16 (notes 1-8)................................................156
Figure 6.20: The Spagna Settings in Vincenzo Capirola’s Lute Book (ca. 1517), tenor notes 1-8..158-59
Figure 6.21: “La basse danse du roy d’espaingne,” Br9085, No. 9........................................................161
Figure 6.22: “Le petit roysin,” Br9085, no. 28..........................................................................................162
Figure 6.23: Untitled basse danse [“the base of spayne”]...........................................................................163
Figure 6.24: Comparison of the three versions of “the base of spayne” tenor...................................164
Figure 6.25: La Spagna embellished for pipe and tabor..................................................................... 168-69
Figure 7.1: Franchinus Gaffurius, Practica musicae (Milan, 1496), frontispiece..................................... 177

x
Source Abbreviations*
Antinori: Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, MS Antinori 13 (1510).
Arbeau: Tabourot, Jehan (a.k.a. Thoinot Arbeau), Orchesographie. Et traicté en forme de dialogve, par leqvel
tovtes personnes pevvent facilement apprendre & practiquer l'honneste exercice des dances. Langres: Jehan des
Preyz, 1589.
Arena: Arena, Anthonius. Anthonius arena Soleriensis Provincialis ad suos compagniones studiantes, qui sunt de
persona friantes, bassas dansas in gallanti stillo compositas …. N.P.; Lyon?, 1528/9.
Br9085: Brussels, Koninklijk Bibliotheek/Bibliothèque royale (KBR) Albert Ier, MS 9085 (ca. 1490s).
Bux: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cim. 352b [Mus. Ms. 3725] [Buxheimer Orgelbuch] (ca.
1460).
Canti C: Canti C numero cento cinquanta. Venice: Ottaviano Petrucci, 1504.
Capirola: Chicago, Newberry Library, Case MS VM 140 C.25 (ca. 1517).
Cervera: Cervera, Arxiu Comarcal de la Segarra (ACSG), “Notacions gràfiques de dances,’ fol. 1r
(ca. 1496).
Coplande: Robert Coplande, “The maner of dauncynge of bace daunces,” addended to Alexander
Barclay, Here begynneth the introductory to wryte & to pronounce frenche (London: R. Coplande, 1521), fols.
16r-v.
Dij517: Dijon, Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 517 (ca. 1465-69 and 1480s).
EscB: Real Monasterio de San Lorenzo del Escorial, Biblioteca y Archivo de Música, MS IV.a.24
(ca. 1460-74).
Faenza: Faenza, Biblioteca Comunale, MS 117 [Faenza Codex] (ca. 1410-20).
Loch: Berlin, Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin, Preußischer Kulturbesitz, MS Mus. 40613 [Lochamer
Liederbuch] (1452-60).
LoTit: London, British Library, Cotton MS Titus A XXVI (1448?).
Modena: Modena, Biblioteca Estense, Ital.82.a.J.94 (ca. 1477).
ModA: Modena, Biblioteca Estense Universitaria, alfa.m.5.24 (before 1420).
* Boldface font designates source names the first time they appear in the text. NB: Pa, Pd, Pg, V and related sources
(Modena, NYp, Siena) are collated and translated with commentary in A. William Smith (ed.), Fifteenth-Century Dance and
Music: Twelve Transcribed Treatises and Collections in the Tradition of Domenico da Piacenza, vols. 1 and 2 (Stuyvesant, NY, 1995).
These abbreviations are standard among historical dance scholars.

xi
Moderne: S’ensuyuent plusieurs Basses dances tant Communes que Incommunes …. N.P.; Lyon?: Jacques
Moderne, ca. 1528-32. NB: this source is bound with other prints by Jacques Moderne (whence the
attribution) in Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, département des manuscrits, Rothschild VI,
3(bis), 66, ark:/12148/btv1b100380546; its specific call number is Rothschild 293.
Motetti A: Motetti A numero trentatre. Venice: Ottaviano Petrucci, 1502.
MuEm: Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. lat. mon. 14274 [St. Emmeram Codex] (ca. 1435-
43).
Namur: Noël and Jean de Fleurus, Registres aux transports, Namur, Archives du Royaume (ca. 1410-
20).
Nancy: [Jean d’Orléans and Guillaume Cousinot]. Geste des nobles francoys (1445). Paris, Bibliothèque
nationale, fonds fr. 5699, flyleaf.
NYp: New York, Public Library MGZMB-Res. 72-254 (ca. 1510).
OdhA: Harmonice musices odhecaton A. Venice: Ottaviano Petrucci, 1501.
Ott: Hans Ott, ed., Novum et insigne opus musicum (Nuremberg: Hieronymus Formschneider, 1537).
Ox213: Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Canon. misc. 213 (ca. 1425-36).
P10660: Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, nouv. acq. fr. 10660 (ca. 1420-30).
Pa: Giovanni Ambrosio da Pesaro. Domini Johannis Ambrosii pisaurensis de pratica seu arte tripudii (ca.
1465-75). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, fonds ital. 476.
Palacio: Madrid, Biblioteca de Palacio Real, MS II-1335 [Cancionero de Palacio] (ca. 1505-20).
Pd: Domenico da Piacenza. [De la arte di ballare et danzare] (ca. 1445-50). Paris, Bibliothèque nationale
de France, fonds ital. 972.
Per431: Perugia, Biblioteca Comunale Augusta, MS 431 G 20 (1480-90).
Pg: Guglielmo Ebreo da Pesaro. De practica seu arte tripudii vulgare opusculum (1463). Paris, Bibliothèque
nationale de France, fonds ital. 973.
Q15: Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q15 (ca.1420-40).
Q16: Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q16 (1487, plus additions from the 1490s).
Q18: Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q18 (ca. 1502-1505).
Salisbury: Salisbury, Cathedral Library, Joannes Balbus de Janua, Catholicon. Venice, 1497, flyleaf.

xii
Schedel: Hartmann Schedel, Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. germ. mon. 810 (ca. 1456-
62).
Sev: Seville, Biblioteca Capitular y Colombina, MS 5-1-43 (ca. 1480).
Siena: Siena Biblioteca Comunale L.V.29 (ca. 1500?).
Spinacino: Francesco Spinacino, Intabulatura de lauto, libro primo e libro secondo (Venice: Ottaviano
Petrucci, 1507).
Stribaldi: Turin, Archivio di Stato, Archivio Biscaretti, mazzo 4, no. 14 (1517).
Tr87: Trent, Castello del Buonconsiglio (I-TRbc) MS 1374 [87] (ca. 1435-50).
Tr89: Trent, Castello del Buonconsiglio (I-TRbc) MS 1376 [89] (ca. 1460-65).
Tr90: Trent, Castello del Buonconsiglio (I-TRbc) MS 1878 [90] (ca. 1453-56).
Thibault: Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Département de Musique, Rés. Vmd MS 27 (ca.
1505-10).
Toulouze: Michel Toulouze, Sensuit lart et instruction de bien dancer (Paris, ca. 1495), Royal College of
Physicians, London.
V: Cornazano da Piacenza, Antonio. Libro dell’arte del danzare (ca. 1465). Rome, Biblioteca Apostolica
Vaticana, MS Cappon. 203.

xiii
Terminology and Symbols*
Cadence: When discussing the voices integral to a cadence, “cantus function” (cantizans) refers to
the voice approaching the cadence final (resolution note) by ascending stepwise motion; “tenor
function” (tenorizans) refers to the voice approaching the cadential final by descending stepwise
motion. For example:
Dance (n.): I use this term to refer to the complex of choreographed movements and their music.
Mensuration Signs: used to indicate musical meter (but not pulse or speed, except in relative
terms) and, specifically, show how many of one note value were contained within the next larger
note value. The levels that may be indicated were major modus (maxima : long), minor modus
(long : breve), tempus (breve : semibreve), and prolatio (semibreve : minim). For modus (mode) and
tempus (time), the term “perfect” indicated that the larger value contained three of the smaller;
“imperfect” indicated that the larger value contained two of the smaller. For prolatio (prolation),
these same divisions were most often indicated by “major” and “minor,” respectively (although
theorists sometimes use “perfect” and “imperfect”). Furthermore, any note (e.g., breve or
semibreve) referred to as “perfect” or called a “perfection” means that it is divisible into three of
the next smaller note value; any note referred to as “imperfect” is divisible into two of the next
smaller note value.
* Adapted from Adam Bregman and Adam Knight Gilbert, “Glossary of Terms,” in Margaret of Austria’s basse danse Manuscript,
Royal Library of Belgium Ms. 9085: Study, ed. Grantley McDonald (Antwerp: Standaard Uitgeverij, 2022), 173-77.
Cadence on sol/re
#
tone
semitone #
#
tenor function
cantus function

xiv
Common Types:
Perfect tempus with major prolation ( ): 1 = 3 ; 1 = 3 ; 1 = 9 (3 x 3 )
Imperfect tempus with major prolation ( ): 1 = 2 ; 1 = 3 ; 1 = 6 (2 x 3 )
Perfect tempus with minor prolation ( ): 1 = 3 ; 1 = 2 ; 1 = 6 (3 x 2 )
Imperfect tempus with minor prolation ( ): 1 = 2 ; 1 = 2 ; 1 = 4 (2 x 2 )
(NB: the verbal indication for tempus often preceded that for prolation, however there are
several, mainly Italian sources that give the indication for prolation before that for tempus.)
The main note value or tempo in each of the above mensurations is the breve. The tactus or
battuta (i.e., beat or pulse), however, falls on the semibreve.
Two versions of these mensuration signs occur commonly in diminution, where the long
behaves like a breve, and the breve like a semibreve, so that a long occupies one tempo, the
(subdivided) beats of which fall on the breve.
: 1 = 2 ; 1 = 3 ; 1 = 2 ; 1 = 12 (6 x 6 )
: 1 = 2 ; 1 = 2 ; 1 = 2 ; 1 = 8 (4 x 4 )
musica recta and musica ficta: the complete musical system available to musicians in the Middle
Ages and Renaissance. Musica recta or vera (“right” or “true” music) comprised the diatonic
pitches (white keys of the piano) from G (Γ-ut) to e”, admitting B-flat as the one “accidental”
note, the span of which was known as the gamut. Two types of designation applied to each
note of this system. A letter name (littera), A-G, situated its absolute place (locus) on the musical
staff or the musical hand.
Litterae: A B C D E F G Voces musicales: ut re mi fa sol la
Musical Building Blocks
claves: Γ A B c d e f g a b c’ d’ e’ f ’ g’ a’ b’ c” d” e”
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xv
The application of one, two, or three vocables or “voices” (voces musicales: ut – re – mi – fa – sol
– la) to any note (solmization) defined its intervallic relationships relative to the notes
surrounding it. The groups of six vocables, known as deductions (and now most often referred
to as hexachords), all shared the same construction of pairs of tones (T) surrounding a central
semitone (S), T–T–S–T–T, regardless of whether the hexachord’s propriety was “hard”,
beginning on G and rising through the square B (natural) to E; “soft”, beginning on F and rising
through the round B (flat) to D; or “natural”, beginning on C and rising to A (without passing
through either B). All the notes beyond the gamut—above, below, or in between—constituted
musica ficta (“feigned” music). The most common occurrence of musica ficta was through the
application of the function of the vocables mi (as ) or fa (as ), which defined the semitone, to a
note that did not carry that vocable in a given context. For reasons of necessity (causa necessitates),
application of musica ficta resolves the mi-fa dissonances of the tritone, augmented fifth, and
augmented or diminished octave that could result within the otherwise “perfect” consonances of
fourth, fifth, and octave. To
sweeten cadences (causa
pulchritudinis), the
application of musica ficta
assures the harmonic
movement of a major sixth
to an octave (or, conversely,
min in places where the
penultimate harmony does
not typically contain the
defining leading tone.
e” la
d" la sol
c” sol fa
b’ fa mi
a' la mi re
g’ sol re ut
f ’ fa ut
e’ la mi
d’ la sol re
c’ sol fa ut
b fa mi
a la mi re
g sol re ut
f fa ut
e la mi
d sol re
c fa ut
B mi
A re
Anonymous, Γ ut Compendium musices (Venice: Impressi
Venetiis, 1513), fol. 2v, Paris, Bibliothèque nationale
de France, département Musique, RES VM8-8,
ark:/12148/bpt6k11689776.
B
?
&
The Gamut
Musica recta
The Musical Hand & the Gamut:
litterae & voces musicales
Γ-ut
e”-la

xvi
Musical tones (modes)*
: combinations of different species of diapente (fifth) plus diatessaron
(fourth), which overlap by one note, to form the octave species—a specific arrangement of
whole-tones and semitones—used to construct a single melodic line. Each tone has commonly
recurring, inherent melodic shapes and figurations that typically outline its inner diapente and
diatessaron (designated below by the respective groups of five and four vocables) and typical
places (pitches) at which cadences occur. A unique pair of pitches determines the structural
points of repose within each tone: the “final” marks the “usual” final point of arrival (designated
below by a breve), while the “co(n)final” above the final to which the melody often
gravitated—the “reciting tone” of a psalm tone (designated below by a blackened semibreve).
The following chart shows all of the regular tones (finals on d, e, f, and g) plus the habitual
transposed places of each tone as found among the surviving fifteenth-century dance tenors.
* While “mode” is more often used in modern parlance to describe the octave species of a voice in a composition, I have
opted to adopt the term “tone” since it appears more commonly in sources of practical music theory of the late Middle
Ages and Renaissance; see Franz Wiering, The Language of the Modes: Studies in the History of Polyphonic Modality (New York
and London: Routledge, 2001), esp. 49-54.

xvii
Step-unit: reference term for the step(s) that occupy one tempo/tempus of bassadanza/basse danse.
Italian* Basic Description of Movement FrancoBurgundian
1 riverentia a backward step (like the ripresa/desmarche/reprise) that
incorporates a slight bow towards one’s partner 1 Reverence (R)
1 ripresa a side step (It.)/ a backward step (Fr.) 1 desmarche /
reprise (r)
2 continentie (cc) side steps, or a swaying movement where one shifts one’s
weight from one foot to the other 1 branle (b)
2 sempi two, evenly spaced, single steps 2 pas simples (ss)
1 doppio a compound movement forward comprising three individual
steps then joining the feet 1 pas double (d)
Tempo (It.) /tempus (Lat.): “time.” The Italian term in modern parlance refers to the speed of the
performance of a musical composition, for which I use the term “pulse,” but, for the Italian dance
masters, was a “measure of motion” in the form of a reference note value, that is, the principal time
unit (note) in a given composition and its divisions (see mensuration). Throughout this study,
“tempus” refers to the reference note value of the French dances and “tempo” refers to the reference
note value of the Italian dances.
* Note that the Italian step vocabulary for the bassadanza incorporates several more varieties of step than that of the basse
danse (see Ch. 1.1.A.i). I have only given the Italian equivalents to the basse danse steps here for comparison.

xviii
Abstract
The most prominent court dance of the fifteenth century was the bassadanza in Italy and the basse
danse in France and Burgundy. More than a mere pastime, the controlled, elegant, gliding steps of
this “low” dance-type served the upper classes as a means of flexing, flaunting, and validating their
grace and station, which earned it the reputation of being the “queen” that reigned over the other
court dances. As an activity that was so pertinent to and infused into the culture of high society, this
dance comes down to us through manuals that largely seem to have served as aides-mémoire for
particular members of the aristocracy. The oftentimes sketchy descriptions they contain gave
modern scholars too much room for interpretation as to how to execute to the movements of the
dance. Additionally, the surviving, enigmatic monophonic tunes left scholars grasping for answers as
to how to perform the music and how precisely it accompanied the choreographies.
This study explores the entire history and development of the genre. We begin at the turn of
the fifteenth century, observing the origin of this dance-type in art song. The tenor voices of songs
of a certain character and meter were extracted and were treated as preexisting foundational
melodies, around which new musical lines were spun. This led to complete autonomy in which new
dance tunes (tenors) appeared. We explore the process by which a song became dedicated dance
music and, working in reverse, a song could be derived from a dance setting. The study continues to
trace, for the first time, the emergence of independent Italian and Franco-Burgundian traditions in
the dance in both movement and music. By mid-century, the choreographies were beginning to
indicate different local customs, but only by the end of the century do these choreographic
differences become blatantly clear as the basse danse crystallizes in a dance form wholly different from
the bassadanza. We then continue into the sixteenth century to observe how the basse danse continued
to change as it became a popular dance of city and town, no longer confined to the court sphere,

xix
marked by a simplification in its choreography and its return to a closer relationship with song as the
repertoire was being updated to suit contemporary tastes.
As the dance evolved, the most prominent musical changes have to do with meter, rhythm,
and pulse, which mark the principal characteristics that define each new stage. This sweeping
evolutionary arc is synthesized in a culminating case study that uses perhaps the most popular extant
dance tune, and one that attests to each step in the genre’s development in both music and
choreography, La Spagna.

xx
Preface
Figure 0.1: Couple dancing
Colophon detail, S’ensuit l’art et instruction de bien dancer (Paris: Michel Toulouze, ca. 1490), B6v.
As I have heard is the case from so many doctoral candidates and their dissertations, my
topic found me. In the spring of 2019, Prof. David Burn of the Katholieke Universiteit and the
Alamire Foundation in Leuven, Belgium came to USC to present in our musicology department’s
lecture series. During his stay, he asked my advisor, Prof. Adam Knight Gilbert, whether he would
be interested in co-authoring a study for a new facsimile edition of Margaret of Austria’s basse danse
manuscript, Brussels Koninklijk Biblioteek/Bibliothèque Royale Albert Ier (KBR), MS 9085
(Br9085).
1 Adam jumped at the occasion on the condition that his doctoral student, Adam (that’s
me!), could join him on the project.
When we first started working, we spent months poring over the copious extant literature on
early Renaissance dance—a long line of brilliant studies undertaken by historians of music and dance
alike.2 Among other musicologists, Manfred Bukofzer, Ernest Closson, Frederick Crane, Otto
1 Grantley McDonald, ed. Margaret of Austria’s basse danse Manuscript, Ms. 9085: Study and Facsimile Edition (Antwerp:
Standaard Uitgeverij, 2022). 2 See bibliography for the publications by the scholars listed in the following sentences and others.
’.l+'SS:

xxi
Gombosi, Daniel Heartz, Otto Kinkeldey, Keith Polk, Curt Sachs, and Eileen Southern have
clarified questions of musical rhythm, step distribution, melodic genealogy, and performing
ensembles. Studies by historical dance scholars, such as Ingrid Brainard, Françoise Carter, James
Miller, Robert Mullally, Jennifer Nevile, A. William Smith, Barbara Sparti, and David R. Wilson,
concentrate on the execution of steps, the choreographies for the dances, the overall structure of the
dances and their reenactment, and the philosophical conception of dance from Antiquity through
the Renaissance.
Our initial thought was, “What are we possibly going to contribute to the extensive work
that has already been done?!” And that dispiriting thought lingered until the summer of the
following year in the heart of the coronavirus pandemic. As with all musicologists before us, we had
conflated the Franco-Burgundian basse danse and Italian bassadanza—two analogous terms that
supposedly designated the same thing, the highest form of court dance in the fifteenth century. That
is, musically at least. From the sources, we knew that the choreographies behaved in vastly different
ways, which, following the secondary literature, we attributed to differences in regional taste: the
staid, controlled character of the basse danse versus the more variable, buoyant bassadanza—general
qualities which would remain characteristic of dance in each region into the nineteenth century. But
one day, comparing choreographies and music, I noticed that the lengths of both varied over time
and between the two regions. By the time of Br9085, the music of the basse danse also behaved
differently from that of the bassadanza!
From that point onwards, we continued our habitual conversations each evening, sitting
masked at opposite ends of Adam’s garage, but with a new, very excited, slightly nervous tone,
discussing the repercussions of the discovery and continuously questioning its validity. We solmized
our way through the tenors with notes of different lengths and sang lines of counterpoint over them.
We shakily went through the motions of adapting the steps to different note lengths, testing our

xxii
theory. And we composed new settings of the tenors, both for the basse danse and for the bassadanza.
So, proudly adding to those copious studies cited above, in our chapter Adam and I were able to
address persisting issues of rhythm and meter, performing forces and their musical idioms, and
musical reconstruction of the basse danse.
3 We also presented new ideas about musical origins,
vocabulary, and tone (mode).
The pinnacle of this process was seeing the fusion of scientific research, applied practice,
and how mutually beneficial they were in informing each other. In the autumn of 2022, we joined a
team of the most highly specialized Renaissance musicians and dancers in the world to present the
basses danses of Br9085 according to our research. (Some of the result of this collaboration is available
to view on Alamire.tv, and more is to come.) Not only was the experience of playing among my
mentors—Adam and Rotem Gilbert, and Wim Becu, o doctor optime—completely surreal, it was
fascinating and extremely eye-opening to work with the other musicians and dancers, who
immediately became dear friends. Only having imagined it all until that point, we watched in wonder
as the process of the movements of the dance unfurled before our very eyes to our historically
informed musical settings. This encounter and interaction, in turn, informed our study, to which we
made last-minute revisions before it went to press at the end of the year.
The present study further benefits from all of the industrious efforts, stimulating discussions,
chance meetings, and fruitful collaborations described above. Our joint study decidedly focused on
the basse danse that would have been played, danced, heard, and seen at the Burgundian court at the
end of the fifteenth century. By comparison, this dissertation expands chronologically in both
directions and devotes equal attention to the different practices that would have been current at
Italian courts. It is about the practice of the basse danse and the bassadanza in the fifteenth and
3 Adam Bregman and Adam Knight Gilbert, “The Music and Dances of Brussels, KBR, MS. 9085,” in Margaret of
Austria’s basse danse Manuscript, Royal Library of Belgium Ms. 9085: Study, ed. Grantley McDonald (Antwerp: Standaard
Uitgeverij, 2022), 17-87.

xxiii
sixteenth centuries. It endeavors to go further in detailing the cultural and regional peculiarities of
the dances, establishing even more concretely the metrical and choreographic differences between
them, and in delineating the chronological evolution of each dance. (NB: I use the noun “dance” to
refer to the complex of choreographed movements and the music that accompanies them.) My hope
is that this study, as a companion to Frederick Crane’s invaluable volume Materials for the Study of the
Fifteenth-Century Basse Danse, will serve to inform modern recreations and performances as a set of
materials for the practice of the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century basse danse and bassadanza.
4
In Chapter 1 I present the cultural history of the bassadanza, basse danse, and related dances. I
introduce key fifteenth-century sources and their authors, and I provide definitions and descriptions
to establish a base vocabulary for early Renaissance dance. The glossary on pp. xiii-xvii complements
the first chapter by additionally summarizing key words from the given vocabulary and by providing
definitions of historical musical terms and concepts. In Chapter 2 I narrate the story of how
twentieth-century scholars encountered and interpreted the sources presented in Chapter 1 and the
evolution of these interpretations, which has led to the present study. I consider in Chapter 3 the
origins of the genre in song and its early history to the mid-fifteenth century. I include a case study
that explores the transformation of a song into dance music, as well as the derivation of a
conjectured original song from a supposed dance setting, using period-appropriate contrapuntal
techniques. And I suggest possible musical accompaniment for the earliest surviving basse danse
choreographies, showing how they would align with the music. In Chapter 4 I trace the independent
trajectories of the Italian and the Franco-Burgundian traditions to ca. 1500, with a musical focus on
changes in note value and a choreographic consideration for the differences in numbers of steps and
overall length. Here I establish that the basse danse and bassadanza had sprung from a common origin
but had developed their own unique performance traditions by the end of the century by reconciling
4 Frederick Crane, Materials for the Study of the Fifteenth-Century Basse Danse (New York: Institute of Mediæval Music, 1968).

xxiv
the musical and choreographic developments. I detail in Chapter 5 the new developments in the
Franco-Burgundian basse danse within the first half of the sixteenth century. I pay particular attention
to differences in meter and note subdivision compared with the previous century, to changes in
musical and choreographic structure, and to metrical disagreements between the explanations given
in the manuals and what appears in contemporaneous collections of dance music. In Chapter 6 I
recount the entire history of the genre from the perspective of La Spagna. With a nearly 200-year
history through close to 250 polyphonic settings, this tune is certainly not foreign to scholars of
Renaissance music. But I specifically consider the surviving settings within the context of dance,
where I match the nine surviving bassadanza and basse danse choreographies to extant musical settings
and show that this dance alone can depict the full evolution of the bassadanza and basse danse.
Additionally, discussions of performing forces and their specific musical aesthetics, and of pulse,
permeate the pages of my study, appearing sporadically at each stage of the chronological evolution
of the topic.

1
Chapter 1
Setting the Stage
Cultural History, Fifteenth-Century Sources, and Terminology

Figure 1.1: Fifteenth-century depictions of dance
Left: Guglielmo Ebreo de Pesaro, De practica seu arte tripudii vulgare opusculum (1463), Paris, Bibliothèque
nationale de France (BnF), fonds ital. 973, fol. 21v (detail).
Right: Loyset Liédet, Roman de Renaud de Montauban (ca. 1470), Paris, BnF, Bibliothèque de l’Arsenal, MS 5073,
fol. 117v (detail).
In the fifteenth century, the Italian bassadanza and the Franco-Burgundian basse danse reigned
at court festivities as the most popular and most elegant form of dance in their native regions. The
terms for these “low” dances originate in the grounded, gliding quality of the movements that
compose the dances. The Franco-Burgundian sources explain that the basse danse is so called
“because, when one dances it, one goes serenely, without being agitated, as gracefully as possible.”1
Fifteenth-century Italian dance masters considered the “imperial” bassadanza to be the “queen”—the
most noble, the most majestic—among the court dances (referred to as misure, or “measures”).2 The
1 Br9085: Brussels, Bibliothèque royale Albert Ier, MS 9085, fol. 4v; also in Toulouze: S’ensuit l’art et instruction de bien
dancer (Paris: Michel Toulouze, 1488), fol. A1v. 2 “Io sono bassadança de le mesure regina…”; Pg: Domenico da Piacenza, De arte saltandi & choreas ducendi (ca. 1445-55), Paris,
BnF, fonds it. 972, fol. 4v, gallica.bnf.fr. “Bassadança e regina dellaltre misure…,” “…la bassadança misura imperiale…”; V:
Antonio Cornazano da Piacenza, Libro dell’arte del danzare (ca. 1460), Rome, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS Cappon.
203, fols. 4v and 34v, digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS_Cappon.203.

2
others—the saltarello or pas de Brabant (or altadanza in Spain), the quadernaria or saltarello tedescho, and
the piva—were “high” dances that moved trippingly and incorporated more buoyant steps and leaps
as a counterbalance to the “low” dance. But it was the bassadanza and basse danse, held in the highest
esteem, that provided the perfect vehicle for competition among the nobility. Whether a couple, a
small group (often of three dancers), or even an entire company processing (alla fila) was dancing,
splendid courtly gathering proved the prime occasion for society’s elite to use this dance type in
vying displays of grace and station, set to music provided by court musicians.
From literature, treatises, payment records, historical reports, and musical sources, we know
that the musical performing forces for these dances were quite variable. As depicted in figure 1.1
above, either a solo instrument (left)—monophonic or polyphonic—or an ensemble of instruments
(right) or voices could animate the dance.
3 While the solo harp belongs to the musical sphere of bas
or bassa instruments, the shawms and (slide) trumpet on the right were typical instruments of the
fifteenth-century alta ensemble—hauts instruments or pifferi.
4 The importance of the alta as the
premiere ensemble to provide music for grand courtly events is documented time and again. For
example, in the Milanese state archives (Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, MS Magl. VII.1
3 Sixteenth-century dance master Thoinot Arbeau, in his encyclopedic dance treatise, Orchesogrpahie, explains that the
music for the pavane and basse danse may not only be performed with a pipe and tabor, “for one can play them with
violins, spinets, transverse flutes and those with nine holes, shawms, and all types of instruments, even sung with
voices”; Thoinot Arbeau, Orchesographie. Et traicte en forme de dialogve, par leqvel tovtes personnes pevvent facilement apprendre &
practiquer l'honneste exercice des dances (Langres: Jehan des Preyz, 1589), fol. 33v. All translations from French are mine
unless otherwise stated. 4 Fifteenth-century theorist Johannes Tinctoris names the shawm and trumpet/trombone ensemble “alta” in book 3,
chapter 8 of his De inventione et usu musicae (ca. 1480); transcribed and translated in Anthony Baines, “Fifteenth-Century
Instruments in Tinctoris’s De inventione et usu musicae,” The Galpin Society Journal 3 (March 1950): 19-26 at 20-21. The
delineation of musical instruments (and instrumentalists) and their functions into alta and bassa or haut and bas went
beyond the simple idea of “loud” versus “soft” or “high” versus “low.” These singular terms embodied a detailed
definition of the instruments they described, the people who played them, and their function in society: haut instruments
were loud and high-pitched, played to entertain the elite enjoying the high life on grand festivities; by contrast, bas
instruments were soft and low-pitched, employed during more intimate assemblies of the nobility down to peasant
gatherings. For more on the delineations of instrument groups in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, and their functions,
see Otto Gombosi, “About Dance and Dance Music,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941): 289-305 at 289-95; Edmund
A. Bowles, “Haut and Bas: The Grouping of Musical Instruments in the Middle Ages,” Musica Disciplina 8 (1954): 115-
140; Daniel Heartz, “Hoftanz and Basse Dance,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 19, no. 1 (Spring 1966): 13-36,
esp. 15; and Keith McGowan, “The Prince and the Piper: Haut, bas, and the Whole Body in Early Modern Europe,”
Early Music 27, no. 2 (May 1999): 211-16, 218-20, 222, 224-32.

3
121), an entry on April 30, 1459, recounts festivities surrounding Pope Pius II’s visit to Florence.
The chronicler reports, “When the pifferi performed, people came from everywhere and danced…,”
including “ambassadors of the Duke of Burgundy.”5 As is the case today, it seems that loud music
has always attracted people to dance, but the source of the music necessarily depended on available
performing forces and performance spaces.6
Indeed, for the bassadanza, one dance master welcomes dance music provided by “pifari,
organs, lute, harp, or drum with flutes, or whatever instrument.” But dancers must be able “to dance
according to that timbre sounded by the instruments,” for “if the dancer dances always with the
same quality …, but not relating to the timbre of the said musicians, the dancing will be imperfect
and signifies a lack of comprehension.”7
While arguments have persisted about which instruments most likely would or would not
have accompanied these dances, and how they would have done so, it now seems clear that, more
than anything else, the occasion would have dictated which instrument(s) dancers would have
heard.8 From a purely pragmatic point of view, Meg Pash imagines,
5 Quoted and translated in A. William Smith, Fifteenth-Century Dance and Music: Twelve Transcribed Italian Treatises and
Collections in the Tradition of Domenico da Piacenza, vol. 1 (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1995), xix. 6 For example, an alta ensemble in a small chamber would give everyone a headache before exciting them to dance, while
a solo or small group of bas instruments would scarcely be heard, if at all, in a large, bustling hall or outdoors. 7 Pa: Giovanni Ambrosio da Pesaro, Domini Johannis Ambrosii pisaurensis de pratica seu arte tripudii (ca. 1465-75), Paris, BnF,
fonds ital. 476, fols. 25r-v, gallica.bnf.fr; transcribed and translated in Smith, 1:151-52. 8 For scholarship that defends polyphonic improvisational instrumental practices, looking closely at how the study of
contemporary compositions can inform extemporized counterpoint around a tenor melody, see for example, Keith Polk,
“Flemish Wind Bands in the Late Middle Ages: A Study of Improvisatory Instrumental Practices,” (PhD diss. University
of California, Berkeley, 1968), and German Instrumental Music of the Late Middle Ages: Players, Patrons and Performance Practice
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), esp. 163-213; Ross W. Duffin, “Ensemble Improvisation in the
Fifteenth-Century Mensural Dance Repertoire,” in Instruments, Ensembles, and Repertory, 1300-1600: Essays in Honour of Keith
Polk, ed. Stewart Carter and Timothy McGee (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013) 195-233; Adam Knight Gilbert, “The
Improvising Alta capella, ca. 1500: Paradigms and Procedures,” Basler Jahrbuch für historische Musikpraxis 29 (2005): 109-23,
“Reverse Engineering Fifteenth-Century Counterpoint: Es solt ein man kein mole farn and Cançon de pifari dco. el Ferrarese,” in
Instruments, Ensembles, and Repertory, 1300-1600: Essays in Honour of Keith Polk, ed. Stewart Carter and Timothy McGee
(Turnhout: Brepols, 2013): 173-94, and “The Shawm and the Alta Ensemble during the ‘Slide Trumpet Years,’”
Forschungsportal Schola Cantorum Basiliensis (August 16, 2021): 1-36 at 12-30, forschung.schola-cantorumbasiliensis.ch/en/forschung/improvisation-trompeten-ensemble/gilbert-shawm-alta-ensemble.html. For the strongest
arguments in favor of solo ornamentation of surviving melodic tenors, see Robert Mullally, “The Polyphonic Theory of
the ‘Basse danse,’” Music Review 38, no. 4 (November 1977): 241-48, “The Polyphonic Theory of the ‘Bassa danza’ and

4
It seems possible that the choice of how to realize the music might depend at least in part on
the practical circumstances of the event, even as it does today, so that the choice between
monophonic diminution or polyphonic ensemble improvisation would have been, in part,
determined by who was dancing, where the event took place, and the availability and skills of
players, all of which would be affected by circumstances of social class, venue, and resources,
including budget. Again, a single uniform practice for basse danse accompaniment is unlikely,
given the long chronology of the genre.9
Bregman and Gilbert explored how the different instruments and ensembles associated with the
basse danse (and bassadanza) might have performed the dance music—monophonically and
polyphonically, improvised and composed—considering the particular musical idioms of each.
10
Echoing Pash’s statement, it would stand to reason that no one musical performance practice
necessarily prevailed, but different occasions and spaces called for different ensembles, both those
playing and those dancing.
This favored aristocratic pastime has captured the attention of modern scholars of music,
dance, society, and culture of the late Middle Ages and Renaissance for over a century. The allure of
these dances has been amplified by the general paucity of music for the many choreographies that
survive, and the ambiguous nature of the theoretical texts in their discussions of performance
practice, especially with respect to the music and the relationship of the steps to the music.
Furthermore, the music of all the dance manuals only survives in the form of untexted, monophonic
tenor melodies. The majority of the basse danse tenors are isometric, notated in equal breves in
coloration. The surviving bassadanza tenors are nearly isometric as well, mainly notated in equal
semibreves.11 Unfortunately, the dance manuals scarcely provide instructions as to how musicians
performed the tenors, which has only added to the intrigue that has long attracted scholars and
performers.
the ‘Ballo,’” Music Review 41 (1980): 1-10, and Mullally, ed. and trans., The Brussels Basse danse Book: A Critical Edition
(Binsted: Dance Books Ltd., 2015), 22-24. 9 Meg Pash, “The Brussels Manuscript: Interpreting the Fifteenth-Century Basse Danse,” Dance Chronicle 40, no. 3 (2017):
414-20 at 417. 10 Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 62-87. 11 Compare these two notation traditions in figs. 2.1 and 2.2.

5
1.1. PRIMARY SOURCES AND THEIR AUTHORS
Although this study focuses on the bassadanza and basse danse, an overview of the sources and
dances they describe will prove helpful to understanding the full musical and choreographic
vocabulary used in fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century dance, and better help contextualize the
genre central to our investigation.
1.1.A. Italy
The main body of surviving source material for the bassadanza resides in four core
manuscripts written roughly within the third quarter of the fifteenth century. These treatises on the
art of dancing were penned by the most reputable dance masters on the Italian peninsula. De arte
saltandi & choreas ducendi / De la arte di ballare et danzare (Pd, “On the Art of Dancing”; ca. 1445-55)
conveys the practical theory and dance choreographies—sometimes accompanied by their
melodies—of Domenico da Piacenza (ca. 1400-ca. 1476).
12 The manuscript contains no explicit
dedication but, according to the flyleaf, belonged to the Duke of Milan.13 A “noble knight” in the
Order of the Golden Spur, Domenico served the Este court from the late 1430s to the mid-1470s
according to Ferrarese records in which his name appears.
14 He was also involved in several
significant events from roughly 1450 to 1455 hosted by the Sforza family of Milan. It was for this
household that Domenico’s two most illustrious students worked.15 Evidently regarding their
mentor, “the king of the art,” with great esteem, they authored the other surviving manuals.16
12 Pd: Domenico da Piacenza, De arte saltandi & choreas ducendi / De la arte di ballare et danzare (ca. 1445-55), Paris, BnF,
fonds it. 972, gallica.bnf.fr. The titles of the treatise were added by a later hand, seemingly as a means of categorization
and reference in a library. The treatise was written in the third person by several different scribes, referring to Domenico
as the source of the information it contains. This manuscript, the three that follow, and related sources are collated and
translated with commentary in A. William Smith, ed., Fifteenth-Century Dance and Music: Twelve Transcribed Treatises and
Collections in the Tradition of Domenico da Piacenza, vols. 1 and 2 (Stuyvesant, NY: Pendragon Press, 1995). 13 Smith, 1:5.
14 Ingrid Brainard, “Domenico [Domenichino, Domenegino] da Piacenza [da Ferrara],” Grove Music Online, January 20,
2001, doi-org.libproxy1.usc.edu/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.07962, accessed, January 11, 2024; Guglielmo
Ebreo of Pesaro, De pratica seu arte tripudii: On the Practice or Art of Dancing, ed. Barbara Sparti (Oxford: Clarendon Press,
1993), 3-4; Smith, 1:5-7, 10-11, 26-27. 15 Smith, 1:127. 16 Smith, 1:103.

6
Antonio Cornazano da Piacenza (ca. 1430-84), a humanist of noble birth—and prolific author of
poetry and subjects including historical events, law, the lives of famous men and women, the art of
war, and dance—who served Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan, as courtier, secretary, and
chamberlain, wrote his initial Libro dell’arte del danzare (V; “Book of the Art of Dancing”) in 1455
(now lost), which he dedicated and presented to his pupil Ippolita, Francesco’s daughter, as an
engagement gift.17 The original dedication to Ippolita appears in the second, surviving copy, which
dates to roughly ten years later and was intended for (and further dedicated to) “Sforza Secundo,”
likely Galeazzo Maria, Ippolita’s brother.
Guglielmo Ebreo da Pesaro (ca. 1420-after 1484), another “very devoted disciple and fervent
imitator of the very dignified knight, Mister Domenico da Ferrara” (another moniker of his), also
dedicated his 1463 treatise De pratica seu arte tripudii vulgare opusculum (Pg; “A Plain Treatise on the
Practice or Art of Dancing”) to Galeazzo Maria Sforza, then Viscount and Count of Pavia and in
line to become Duke of Milan.18 Sometime after completing this manuscript, and by the spring of
1465, Guglielmo converted to Christianity, a fact reflected in a second copy of his treatise in which
“Guglielmo Ebreo” has systematically been replaced with his Christian name, Giovanni Ambrosio.
(I will use “Guglielmo” or “Ambrosio” depending on which treatise I am referring to.) He
completed Domini Johannis Ambrosii pisaurensis de pratica seu arte tripudii (Pa) sometime in the early
1470s.19 Written in a simpler style (which perhaps ties it more closely to the dance master, himself)
and clearly not of the same presentation quality as Pg, it lacks any dedication but contains all of the
17 V: Antonio Cornazano da Piacenza, Libro dell’arte del danzare (ca. 1460), Rome, Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, MS
Cappon. 203, digi.vatlib.it/view/MSS_Cappon.203. Ingrid Brainard, “Cornazano [Cornazzano], Antonio,” Grove Music
Online, January 20, 2001, doi-org.libproxy1.usc.edu/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.06497, accessed January 11,
2024; Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 4; Smith 1:69-76, 83-84. 18 Pg: Guglielmo Ebreo de Pesaro, De practica seu arte tripudii vulgare opusculum (1463), Paris, Bibliothèque Nationale de
France, fonds ital. 973, gallica.bnf.fr. Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 9; Smith, 1:188. In addition to Smith, 1:187-92, for a
commentary and translation of this work, see Guglielmo, ed. Sparti.
19 Pa: Giovanni Ambrosio da Pesaro, Domini Johannis Ambrosii pisaurensis de pratica seu arte tripudii (ca. 1465-75), Paris,
Bibliothèque Nationale de France, fonds ital. 476, gallica.bnf.fr. On Guglielmo’s conversion, see Guglielmo, ed. Sparti,
33-35.

7
practical theory, choreographies, and music of the earlier version. Additionally, we find advice for
men dancing with longer garments, shorter dress, or a cloak; a section about how to recognize a
good dancer; expanded choreographies and music; and autobiographical accounts of choice events
and festivities that he attended.20 The son of a dance master in service to the Lord of Pesaro,
Guglielmo entered the service of Alessandro Sforza, Francesco’s brother, in Pesaro shortly after
Alessandro became Lord of the city in 1445.21 Guglielmo/Ambrosio remained there for the better
part of his career until Alessandro’s death in 1473, after which time he entered into the service of
Federico of Montefeltro, who became Duke of Urbino in 1474.22 In addition to the four core
manuals named above, eight variant treatises that reproduce Guglielmo/Ambrosio’s practical theory,
or a combination of his theory with that of Domenico, survive as well, dating as late as 1510, with
minor alterations or additions and, often, with different choreographies but no music.23
The strong Sforza connection among the three dance masters becomes most evident in
Ambrosio’s mention of the betrothal festivities of ten-year-old Ippolita to eight-year-old Alfonso of
Aragon, Duke of Calabria, in the autumn of 1455: “I was present when a most noble celebration
took place when the Duchess of Calabria [Ippolita Sforza] was betrothed in Milan. … And I was
present with Messer Domenico and we performed [and/or composed] moresche and many balli. And
many ambassadors from all the provinces were there.”24 Remarkable is that this marks the one event
at which Domenico and Guglielmo danced and/or composed dances together. Cornazano is not
20 Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 13-15; the quotation on p. 3 above about the necessity of dancers to vary their affect according
to the timbre of the accompanying instruments draws directly from the “Experiment of how to recognize a good
dancer” (Smith, 1:151-52). 21 Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 25-26. 22 Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 38-39. 23 Antinori: Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana, Cod. Antinori 13 (1510); Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale,
Cod. Magliabecchiano XIX, 88 (ca. 1477); Florence, Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale, Cod. Palat. 1021; Foligno, Seminario
Vescovile, Biblioteca Jacobilli, D I 42; Modena: Modena, Biblioteca Estense, Ital.82.a.J.94 (ca. 1477); NYp: New York
Public Library, Dance Collection MGZMBZ-Res. 72-254 (ca. 1480) Siena: Siena, Biblioteca Comunale, L.V.29 (ca.
1474); Venice, Biblioteca Nazionale Marciana, It. II 34; see Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 16-22, and Smith, 1:193-205. 24 Translated in Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 249. Moresche were theatrical dances (Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 53-54), and balli could
refer to dancing in general or pastiches of different types of dance—see below.

8
mentioned here by name but, given that he gifted the prototype of his treatise to Ippolita for the
occasion, it would only stand to reason that he was also present and likely danced as well.
1.1.A.i. Concepts and Steps
The dance masters used their manuals to engage with the budding youth in the prominent
aristocratic households they served who were learning the proper codes and mores of the nobility.
Although not one of the liberal arts, dance was integral to the education of the upper classes. To
extend the validity of this art form in order to maintain its viability (and further secure their
positions), they each began their treatise with a defense of dance, giving six categories pertinent to
successfully dancing with virtue since it engaged one’s intellect and was not simply a base, physical
activity.
25 They agree on the first five: misura, agilitade/aire, maniera, memoria, and misura/
compartimento/partire di terreno. For the sixth, Domenico gives fantasmata, Cornazano advises diversità di
cose, and Guglielmo/Ambrosio discusses movimento corporeo.
Misura is chief among these categories since “whatever has misura,” says Ambrosio, “so
much is its virtue and perfection.”26 The virtue and perfection of misura are what relate dance to the
sciences, an important factor for the dance masters, as noted above. It “governs everything quick or
slow according to the music,” says Domenico.27 It is an alignment of one’s steps with the music
according to its meter and pulse, and misura further regulates the following two categories on the
above list. Agilitade or aire is the act of being agile in one’s movements, making them with a certain
“grace of motion that will cause you to be pleasurable to those who watch you,” says Cornazano.28
To this, Ambrosio adds, “This is an act of an air-like presence and rising movimento [ethereal
25 The following discussion draws on definitions of the terms given by Domenico in Smith, 1:12-15; Cornazano in
Smith, 1:85-86; and Ambrosio in Smith, 1:129-34. 26 Smith, 1:136.
27 Smith, 1:12-13. 28 Smith, 1:85.

9
movement] within the body, demonstrating with agility a soft and very refined upwardness in
dancing.”29 Maniera is one’s posture or carriage according to Domenico. Cornazano goes further to
explain that it is to move the torso in addition to the feet, or to adjust one’s posture, giving balance
and grace to the movements. Ambrosio suggests that it further encompasses the ornaments or
graces added to “adorn or shade” a step, and that it was necessary for perfecting the naturalness of
the dance. Taken altogether, Domenico explains that neither agilitade/aire nor maniera should be
exaggerated, “rather, maintain the mean of your movement, that is—not too much nor too little.”30
Misura tempers them. The dance master goes on to liken one’s agility and “manner” of bodily
movement according to misura to a boat on the water: “With smoothness, appear like a gondola that
is propelled by two oars through waves when the sea is calm as it normally is. The said waves rise
with slowness and fall with quickness. Always execute the foundation, that is, misura, which is a
slowness tempered with quickness.”
The importance of memoria resides within one’s ability to assimilate and recall the steps
required to perform a dance. These steps must fit appropriately within the given dance space,
bringing us to the notion of misura/compartimento/partire del terreno, which dictates that one must
visualize the space, partitioning it such that each step and movement has its proper place.
For all three dance masters, the sixth category pertains to movement. Domenico describes
the play between motion and stillness in one’s movements: “fantasmata is a physical quickness which
is controlled by the understanding of the misura first mentioned above [i.e., musical meter and pulse].
This necessitates that at each tempo [i.e., the main note value of a dance; see below] one appears to
have seen Medusa’s head, as the poet [i.e., Homer] says, and be of stone in one instant, then, in
another instant, take to flight like a falcon driven by hunger.”31 For Ambrosio, freedom of movimento
29 Smith, 1:132.
30 Smith, 1:12-13. 31 Smith, 1:12-13.

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corporeo (“bodily movement”) is key. Although questionably exclusive today, he idealizes dancing,
limiting it to the beautiful people in good health: those with a “gentle complexion given from the
highest heaven” devoid of any physical deformities will be most apt to execute the movements of
the dance. Cornazano’s final category, diversità di cose (“diversity of all manner of things”), concerns
the rhetorical ideal of varietas in one’s movements and among the dances in general: “being able to
perform different dances successively and never making one like the other, that is, execute [the
different steps] in various styles.”32 As an envoi, Cornazano concludes this section stating, “above all,
this activity [i.e., dancing] should be performed with a joyous spirit.”
The dance masters go to great lengths to detail these conceptual aspects of the dance,
explaining their importance to dancing literally and through metaphor. However, they unfortunately
do not describe the steps and movements that comprise their choreographies with the same
precision as in the theoretical portion of the treatises.
33 (This fact perhaps further suggests the
notion that the manuals were meant more as, on one hand, philosophical documentation about
dance and, on the other, as an aide-mémoire to complement live instruction.)34 They do, however,
categorize the movements and the relative amount of time they occupy with respect to the music,
giving for each its duration in tempi—units of time, or the main note values—of bassadanza,
according to Domenico, “misurado major imperfect” (i.e., a breve in imperfect tempus with major
prolation, or ; see below).
35 The steps and movements fall into two categories, “natural” and
32 Smith, 1:85-86. 33 Their choreographies do, on the other hand, often give spatial, directional, or technical specifications for certain steps,
such as whether to move forward, backward, left, or right, or which foot to use. For practical descriptions or
interpretations of the Italian steps, see Ingrid Brainard, The Art of Courtly Dancing in the Early Renaissance, Part II (West
Newton, MA: N.P., 1981), 16-24 and 32-53. 34 That the manuals served to complement live instruction is made most clear by Cornazano who excuses himself from
any explanation of certain concepts that are “hard to describe without being present to demonstrate [them]”; Smith,
1:91.
35 Smith, 1:14-15.
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“incidental.”36 Although both Domenico and Cornazano list nine “natural” movements, they do not
entirely agree. Accordingly, table 1.1 below shows an integral list of the natural movements given by
the dance masters with the time required by each movement.
37
1/2 tempo 1 tempo 2 tempi
1 sempio (single step) 1 doppio (double step) 1 voltatonda (full turn)
1 continentia (sidestep) 1 ripresa (sidestep or backstep?) 3 contrapassi
1 mezavolta (half turn) 1 riverentia (bow step)
1 movimento 1 scambio (exchanging foot placement)
1 salto (leap) (2 sempi)
(2 continentie)
Table 1.1: The natural movements and the time they occupy in the bassadanza misura
According to Domenico, the most common natural steps are the sempio, doppio, ripresa, and voltatonda,
and the movimento is integral to each step. The latter seems to be the forward, lifting motion that
propels each step. For Cornazano, campeggiando (literally, “encamping a field”) and ondeggiando
(“undulating,” “waving,” or “floating”) lend grace to any of the natural steps, especially the doppio,
where the first term likely refers to a (turning or twisting) movement in the horizontal plane; the
second inhabits the vertical plane as an elevating and lowering motion over the course of a step.
38 In
addition to the propulsion and grace of the aforementioned movements, dancers could integrate
ornaments into their steps.
The “incidental,” or ornamental, movements are the frappamento (a foot stomp or a beat
against the other leg), scorsa or trascorsa (a cross step), and scambiamento (like the scambio given above,
an exchange of foot placement), each of which requires a quarter tempo according to Domenico.39 In
36 The main discussions of the steps occur for Domenico in Smith, 1:14-15; for Cornazano in Smith, 1:90; of the
Ambrosio treatises, only Siena, NYp, and Modena list the steps—Smith, 1:200-201. 37 Note that contrapassi do not figure within Domenico’s step vocabulary; for more on this step grouping, see Brainard,
The Art of Courtly Dancing, 2:36-37. 38 John Florio, Queen Anna’s New World of Words, or Dictionarie of the Italian and English Tongues… (London: Melch.
Bradwood, 1611), 78 and 341, pbm.com/~lindahl/florio/. In his discussion of maniera, Cornazano states, “campeggiando
and ondeggiando with the torso [or body], in accordance to the foot that moves. For instance, when you move the right
foot to perform a doppio, you must campeggiare on the left foot which remains on the ground and somewhat turn the torso
to that side, ondeggiare during the second short step and elevate suavely above that one, and with the same grace, lower on
the third step that completes the doppio”; Smith, 1:85. See also Brainard, The Art of Courtly Dancing, 2:23. 39 See Brainard, The Art of Courtly Dancing, 2:43-46.

12
place of the scambiamento, which was one of his natural movements, Cornazano gives pizigamento—a
light scraping or “pawing” of the ground.
There are distinct divisions of the tempo—the main note value—of a dance in which the
natural or incidental steps fall. These are the vuodo (“empty”) and the pieno (“full”). “I call the vuodo
the silence and the pieno the sounding,” states Domenico. “I call the vuodo that between one tempo
and the next. I call the pieno that within the tempo. These determine the nature of the natural and
incidental movements.”40 The dance master associates the natural movements with the pieno and the
incidental movements with the vuodo. But, as that initial upward, forward propulsion, the “movimento
is the vuodo” while “the step with the imprint of the foot is the pieno.”41 These terms relate dance to
poetic or musical meter, where vuodo corresponds to the arsis (rise, upbeat), and pieno correlates with
thesis (fall, downbeat). For example, Cornazano describes the four-part division of a tempo of
bassadanza as such: “The vuodo is one, that is, the first upsurging motion, then each of the three steps
that are performed takes up one fourth, totaling four.”42 Domenico likewise explains that each tempo
of bassadanza begins in the vuodo and ends in the pieno and connects the concepts to the
accompanying music: “Note that when a musician begins to play a misura of bassadanza, [they begin
with] the sovrano rather than the beat of the tenor. That sovrano with which you begin is the vuodo and
the beat of the tenor is the pieno.”43 The implication here is that, in a bassadanza, the cantus begins
with an upbeat to the tenor’s downbeat, perhaps both as a call to the dance and to establish the
40 Smith, 1:14-15. 41 Smith, 1:18-19. 42 Smith, 1:91. Beyond this description, this is precisely the abstract concept that Cornazano excuses himself from
explaining further; see n34 above. 43 Smith, 1:16-19. Ambrosio, in his discussion of misura, contrasts Domenico’s statement by exchanging tenor and
contratenor for sovrano and tenor, respectively, saying, “Misura appearing in this section and to the art of dancing signifies
a sweet and orderly correspondence of the voice to tempo partitioned with reason and art. This mainly applies to the
sound of a stringed instrument, or other [sound], which is correlated and tempered with the vuodo and pieno, that is, with
the tenor and the contratenor, in order to determine one tempo”; Smith, 1:129-30.

13
pulse. But the same is not true of each type of dance, nor is the arrangement of vuodo and pieno
necessarily the same, as we shall see presently.
1.1.A.ii. The Dances
The concepts and dance steps prescribed above govern how one approaches the dances
described in the manuals. There are two categories of dance, the bassadanza and the ballo or balletto.
Bassadanza is both a specific type of independent dance—the principal topic of this study—and an
umbrella term that includes the four different genres of dance, called misure. From “widest” (i.e.,
slowest) to “narrowest” (i.e., quickest), they are bassadanza, quadernaria, saltarello, and piva. Balli, or
balletti, are pastiches of the misure that depict a story, virtues or vices, or are somehow linked (mainly
in title) to a particular person, place, or symbol.44As Guglielmo explains, “misura, … as it pertains to
the art of dancing, means a sweet and measured accord between sound and rhythm, apportioned
with judgement and skill.”45 The Italian term misura, meaning “a measure, a rule, a proportion, a
meane, a temper,” embodies the composite ideas of musical meter and pulse with respect to dance
music.
46 Accordingly each misura had its own meter and tempo—its principal note value according to
the meter (NB: here, as above, the term “tempo” does not refer to pulse, which is wrapped up in
misura). But the sources do not always agree, nor does the theoretical writing necessarily align with
surviving musical examples in the same treatises.
47
The piva, “from the shepherd’s hornpipe,” according to Cornazano, “was the origin and the
basis of all the other misure, and the others were derived from it and made interrelated” because it
44 These terms are interchangeable: Domenico and Guglielmo/Ambrosio use “ballo” while Cornzano uses “balletto.” For
a brief discussion and categorization of ballo titles, see Smith, 1:xxi-xxii. 45 Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 92-93. 46 Florio, Queen Anna’s New World of Words, 318. 47 The following discussion draws on Domenico in Smith, 1: 16-19; Cornazano in Smith, 1:86-87, 89, 91, 106; and
pseudo-Ambrosio in Smith: 201.

14
was historically danced by all as the premiere dance style but had fallen out of favor at court by the
mid-fifteenth century, considered simple and provincial.
48 Its meter is imperfect tempus with major or
minor prolation ( or ), or perfect tempus with minor prolation ( ), and it comprises only doppi.
49
This misura is most closely associated with the quadernaria: “Note that the piva, which is of minor
imperfect,” states Domenico, “has its birth from the quadernaria, because its movement of tempo
begins in the pieno like that of the quadernaria” and ends in the vuodo.
50 The quadernaria, or saltarello
tedesco (“German saltarello”), is in imperfect tempus with minor prolation ( ). Its “movement consists
of a doppio with a frappamento in one tempo,” according to Domenico, or two sempi plus a ripresetta
(small ripresa) “beaten after the second step, transversely,” according to Cornazano. Although they
were independent misure, neither the piva nor the quadernaria seems to have often, if ever, been
performed as an independent, stand-alone dance at court, unlike the bassadanza or saltarello. Rather,
they served as smaller sections in the context of balli/balletti.
The saltarello, also called the passo Brabante (or pas de Brabant in the francophone sources) or
altadanza in Spain, “is the most cheerful dancing of all,” according to Cornazano.51 In theory, its
mensuration is perfect tempus with major or minor prolation, but in practice it only ever appears in
perfect tempus with minor prolation ( ) or imperfect tempus with major prolation ( ). “The movement
of the saltarello is a doppio with a salteto [hop],” says Domenico, but Cornazano concedes that it can
also admit sempi, doppi, riprese, and contrapassi.
52 “Note that the saltarello has its birth from the
bassadanza,” Domenico says, “because its tempo begins in the vuodo like the bassadanza” and ends in
the pieno.
53 These two misure relate further since they are always danced as a pair, explains Cornazano,
48 Smith, 1:92, 87.
49 These mixed opinions, among the treatises and within the same treatise (!), appear in Smith, 1:16-19, 91, 201. 50 Smith, 1: 18-19. In an earlier passage, he instructs, in the quadernaria, “begin the beat of the tenor and that of the
sovrano together.” 51 Smith, 1:86.
52 Smith, 1:24-25, 87. 53 Smith, 1:18-19.
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where the saltarello follows the bassadanza.
54 The latter, in theory, was either in perfect or imperfect
tempus with major prolation ( or ) and, as its choreographies attest, it could use any of the natural
movements.
Any melodic dance tenor could be adapted to the meter of any of the dances. Cornazano
explains this the most clearly, specifying a special instruction about the doubling of all note values
in the bassadanza:
It must be noted that every tenor can be played in four misure: Among which, for good
musicians, the first is the natural way with three beats per note; this for Italians is danced in
saltarello. The second way is in quadernaria, putting four beats per note; this is most used by
the Germans for dancing. Thirdly, the cacciata, which is a misura of piva; some call it the
daughter of the quadernaria because each note has just as many beats, but is played half again
as fast. The fourth way is the imperial bassadanza misura; in which every note doubles in
value, threes [are worth] six, and sixes … twelve.55
The music and choreographies surviving in the core sources, the vast majority of which are those of
balli or balletti, shows to what extent misura signified a proportion that could be derived among the
tempi and relative speeds or pulses of the dances, which had a hierarchical organization.56 As figure
1.2 shows, the Italian dance masters considered the bassadanza to reign as the “queen of the misure.”
Here, Domenico relates the four misure each at the distance of a sixth between them from bassadanza
to quadernaria to saltarello to piva. The bassadanza was the widest or broadest (and slowest) misura, the
piva was the narrowest (and quickest).
54 Smith, 1:91.
55 Smith, 1:106. 56 Even more choreographies abound (without music) in the variant treatises. For full descriptions of the bassedanze and
balli among the Italian sources, see W. Thomas Marrocco, Inventory of 15th-Century bassedanze, balli, and balletti in Italian
Dance Manuals (New York: CORD, 1981); Susan Hoeksema, “The Steps and Music of the Italian ballo of the Early
Renaissance,” Vols. I and II (master’s thesis, University of Natal, 1984); and Smith, Vol. 2.
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Figure 1.2: Hierarchy of the misure according to Domenico57
As Cornazano explained, the three other misure grew out of the piva and were interrelated,
and the dance masters used mensuration signs in an attempt to show relative duration and speed
among the misure, even if it seems they did not necessarily have the same understanding of mensural
notation. Already from the different meters described in the theoretical sections of the treatises, they
did not agree. To which degree did they comprehend mensural notation? Jennifer Nevile argues that
the dance masters sought to validate their art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology
proper to mensural music, in so doing, inseparably linking the two such that dance might one day
join the ranks of the liberal arts.58 She contends that the mensuration descriptions that they give
among the dances only serve to show relative speed and length of misura among the dances, without
necessary indicating the true meter of each dance. The sixth degree of separation between the misure
57 Pd, fol. 4v (detail); translation from Smith, 1:19, 21. 58 Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington: Indiana University
Press, 2003), 104-18. She states further that the ideal of such proportions yielded an even loftier metaphysical aspect to
dance: if music presented number in sound and space as an exegetical blueprint and imitation of the cosmos (the
harmony of the spheres), dance likewise imitated the motion of the planets (the cosmic dance) through number in
movement and space.
Head
I am bassadanza, queen of the misure, and deserve to wear the
crown. Few understand my performance. Whoever in dance
or in music uses me, blessings from the heavens are offered.
Sixth
I am the misura called quadernaria and if the musicians
understand me, they will find that I am a sixth below my
queen. If a good musician wishes me well, I maintain the
middle between the bassadanza and saltarello.
Third
I am saltarello, called a passo Brabante, who is two sixths below
bassadanza. If the prudent musicians wish me well, I maintain
the middle between the quadernaria misura and that of piva.
Middle
I am called piva and am the saddest of the misure because I
am used by the villagers in the country. Because of my
quickness, I [am half as much as] the bassadanza.

17
ultimately always relates back to the bassadanza.
59 For example, Domenico gives the bassadanza in
imperfect tempus with major prolation and, at two sixths (one third) “below,” the saltarello in perfect
tempus with major prolation. They are compared in figure 1.3 below, where the bassadanza has 2
semibreves and 6 minims for 3 semibreves and 9 minims of the saltarello, giving a proportional
difference of one-third. Recalling that all the note values of the bassadanza double in value, the
separation by a third goes in the “right” direction, according to Domenico: the saltarello is “below”
the bassadanza. Similarly, the piva in perfect tempus with major prolation at three-sixths (one half) below
the bassadanza computes when we double the values of the latter (see fig. 1.3).
Figure 1.3: Proportional comparison of (left) bassadanza to saltarello and of (right) bassadanza to piva
using Domenico’s mensuration designations and ratios.
Further considering the variety of mensuration signs used in the balli, it becomes evident that the
signs related one section to the next and, therefore, necessarily varied based on which two misure
were subsequent.
Accounting for all of the theoretical evidence and musical examples provided by the dance
masters, the following list summarizes the meter and metrical subdivision of the misure (not in
relation to the others):
60
59 Jennifer Nevile, “The Performance of Fifteenth-Century Italian Balli: Evidence from Pythagorean Ratios,” Performance
Practice Review 6, no. 2 (fall 1993): 116-26 at 122-23. Nevile gives the first example in fig. 1.4 comparing the bassadanza to
the saltarello. 60 Otto Gombosi gave the subdivision of the tempo of each misura in “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late Middle
Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305 at 300. Nevile gives the mensuration signs for each misura in The
Eloquent Body, 117. This list combines both.
bassadanza
ç
w w
hhh hhh
saltarello
ø
w w w
hhh hhh hhh
O
W W
w w w w w w
hhhhhh hhhhhh
piva
o
w w w
hh hh hh
ç
w w
hhh hhh
-2/6 à bassadanza -3/6 à
à
bassadanza
ç
w w
hhh hhh
saltarello
ø
w w w
hhh hhh hhh
O
W W
w w w w w w
hhhhhh hhhhhh
piva
o
w w w
hh hh hh
ç
w w
hhh hhh
-2/6 à bassadanza -3/6 à
à

18
bassadanza:
saltarello: or
quadernaria:
piva: or
This understanding of mensuration and tempi for each misura helps clarify some of the comments we
encounter in the treatises. For example, that the piva had the same number (and quality) of beats as
the quadernaria but was twice as fast becomes clear in the comparison : . A piva could also be
half the bassadanza, however, which was Domenico’s opinion (see fig. 1.3), considering that they
both could have the same mensuration and tempo, but that all the note values double in the
bassadanza. “Also,” Domenico explains, “the beats of the tenor for the quadernaria go more equally in
distance than those of the bassadanza.”61 Although the tempo of both misure subdivided into four parts,
one counted four, equal, imperfect semibreves in the quadernaria versus the repeating, unequal, longshort trochaic pattern of semibreve-minim in the bassadanza.
Despite ample theoretical descriptions of the four misure, only choreographies for bassedanze
survive. None are accompanied by their melody. And, from a total of twelve Italian manuscripts, V
alone records the only three, complete, surviving bassadanza and saltarello tenors (fols. 32r-34v) “del
Re di Spagna” (see fig. 6.1), “Cançon de pifari dicto ‘el Ferrarese’” (see fig. 4.2), and “Collinetto”
(see fig. 1.4), which according to him are “the best, and most used of all.”62 While all three similarly
communicate their melodies as a series of perfect semibreves in , it is vexing that they do not
survive with their choreographies—perhaps for the very reason that they were apparently the most
popular tunes for dancing the bassadanza or saltarello.
From the core group of Italian sources, we take away a fragmented picture of fifteenthcentury Italian dance. Idealized, abstract concepts abound, explained at best in even more cryptic
61 Smith, 1:18-19. 62 Smith, 1:106. Pd, Pg, and Pa (and V, as well) all give music for balli with short sections of bassadanza, but these are
unrelated to the three bassadanza tenors in V or the basse danse repertory. 5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26.
5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26.
5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26. 5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26.
5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26.
5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26.
5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26.
5
Otto Gombosi (after Sachs, World History of Dance), “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late
Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3 (July 1941), 289-305.
• Gives the following metrical schema per tenor note for each of the dances (p. 300);
bassadanza = ç w h w h
quaternaria = C w w w w
saltarello = o w w w ç w. w.
piva = ç w h w h c h h h h
[NB: the one relationship that is always clear from the source material is that the measure of the piva
occupies exactly half that of the bassadanza; the saltarello (= 1/3 less) does not, which means that the
saltarello would be in O. time if the minim remains constant. If, however, the saltarello is in O time,
and is in the proportion of 2:3 (sesquialtera) with the bassadanza, perhaps the minim doesn’t remain
constant and three semibreves of bassadanza = the two dances are in the proportion of sesquialtera.]
Jennifer Nevile, The Eloquent Body: Dance and Humanist Culture in Fifteenth-Century Italy (Bloomington:
Indiana University Press, 2003).
• Makes the argument that the fifteenth-century Italian dance masters sought to validate their
art by drawing from (and appropriating) terminology proper to mensural music, which, in its
own right, had developed its terminology, at least in part, by borrowing from grammar and
rhetoric. In so doing, the dance masters inseparably linked dance to music where, if music
presented number in sound and motion as an exegesis and imitation of the cosmos, dance
likewise imitated the cosmos through number in movement and space (104-18). (Ambrosio
explains that measured movement is the natural reaction of one who hears, and is acted
upon, by measured sound.)4
o According to Nevile, the mensuration descriptions that they give among the dances
only serve, however, to show relative speed (tempo) and length of misura among the
dances, without necessary indicating the true mensuration sign for each dance. This
becomes evident when one compares the theoretical (proportional) mensuration
descriptions to the mensuration signs attributed to each type of misura in the musical
examples, which may be summarized as follows (117):
§ bassadanza: ç
§ quaternaria: C
§ saltarello: o or ç
§ piva: ç or c
4 Smith, 125-26.
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z

19
terms, and the concrete building blocks of the dances are wholly glossed over, taken for granted. In
every respect, on the surface of it, the Italian world of courtly dance was more complex, involved,
and out of reach, reserved for the initiated upper classes—at least in theory—than more somber,
restrained sphere of Franco-Burgundian dance.
Figure 1.4: “Tenore Collinetto,” V, fols. 33r-v
1.1.B. France and Burgundy63
Franco-Burgundian sources of fifteenth-century dance only total three. The two principal
sources date from the very end of the century. Michel Toulouze produced an incunabulum, S’ensuit
l’art et instruction de bien dancer (Toulouze; “Here follows the art and instruction of proper dancing”),
in Paris ca. 1490-95. Also created sometime within the last decade of the century was the sumptuous
63 To date, the most complete and masterful overview and history of the Franco-Burgundian basse danse genre from the
mid-fifteenth to the mid-sixteenth centuries is Daniel Heartz, “The Basse Dance: Its Evolution circa 1450 to 1550,” in
Annales musicologiques : Moyen-âge et renaissance, vol. 6, ed. N. Bridgman, et al. (Neuilly-sur-Seine: Société de musique
d’autrefois, 1958-63), 281-340.

20
Brussels, Koninklijk Biblioteek/Bibliothèque Royale Albert Ier (KBR), MS 9085 (Br9085), an
exquisite manuscript inscribed in liquid silver and gold on black parchment and that “belong[ed] to
the princess of Spain,” Margaret of Austria (1480-1530, who held that title between 1495 and 1501),
daughter of Emperor Maximilian I and Mary of Burgundy.
64 Despite odd errata, the workshop that
produced the latter took painstaking care to deliver an exquisite artifact for a very important
member of high society. Internal discrepancies and the overall imprecision of the musical notation in
Toulouze, however, make for a difficult interpretation of many of the dances, although as a print it
would have been meant for public consumption.65
Considering the amount of overlap between the two collections, including the prefatory text
given nearly verbatim in both—with the exception of regional differences in spellings—and 44 of a
cumulative 63 dances, they undoubtedly share a common source, now lost, and sadly lack any
authorial attribution.66 These related volumes focus decidedly on one genre of dance: the basse danse.
The opening treatise describes the steps, how to execute them, and how many of each may fall
64 Toulouze: S’ensuit l’art et instruction de bien dancer (Paris: Michel Toulouze, ca. 1495); Br9085: Brussels, Bibliothèque
Royale Albert Ier, MS 9085 (ca. 1490-1500); the indication of ownership, “est a la princese despaingne,” appears on the
flyleaf. These and other sources of basse danse music and/or choreographies are collated and translated with commentary
in David R. Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook (Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press, 2012). For a helpful comparative edition
of Toulouze and Br9085, see James L. Jackman, Fifteenth-Century Basse Dances: Brussels Bibl. roy. MS 9085, Collated with
Michel Toulouze’s L’art et instruction de bien dancer (Wellesley: Wellesley College, 1964). For more details on the histories
of these sources, see Crane, Materials, 3-7 and 26-27; Grantley McDonald, “The Brussels basse danse Manuscript in
Context,” in Margaret of Austria’s basse danse Manuscript, Ms. 9085: Study, ed. Grantley McDonald (Antwerp: Standaard
Uitgeverij, 2022), 89-124, and “Michel de Toulouze, Guillaume Guerson de Villelongue, and Music Printing in FifteenthCentury Paris,” in Margaret of Austria’s basse danse Manuscript, Ms. 9085: Study, ed. Grantley McDonald (Antwerp:
Standaard Uitgeverij, 2022), 155-72. 65 Claude Thiry suggests the difference in the intended audience between Br9085 and Toulouze in “Le Texte de L’art et
instruction de basse danse,” in Basses danses dites de Marguerite d’Autriche Ms. 9085 aus dem Besitz der Bibliothèque royale Albert Ier,
Bruxelles: Kommentarband, ed. Claudine Lemaire, et al. (Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1987), 25-56 at 27. 66 Between the fragility of the folios and a nineteenth-century rebinding, the order of Br9085 has changed significantly
over the centuries, but Toulouze serves to help us imagine the original order of the manuscript. I will use numbers for
the order of the dances and folios (for the treatise) that reflect the current state of Br9085. For details about the order of
Br9085 and its relationship to Toulouze, see Crane, Materials, 7-12; Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 21-
23; and Ann Kelders, “Appendix 3: Codicological Description,” in Margaret of Austria’s basse danse Manuscript, Ms. 9085:
Study, ed. Grantley McDonald (Antwerp: Standaard Uitgeverij, 2022), 254-59.

21
consecutively; it explains the construction of the choreographies and delineates the different types of
basse danse; and it gives the relationship of the dance steps to the music.67
The third item from the 1400s that documents the basse danse predates the other two by half
a century. Our only source that is not a dance manual, it is a list of seven choreographies—lacking
any music—scrawled on the flyleaf of Guillaume Cousinot’s Geste des nobles francoys (Nancy).68 Most
likely annotated by the original owner of the manuscript, Jean of Orléans (1399-1467; brother of
Charles, Duke of Orléans), upon his return to France in 1445 from 32 years of imprisonment in
England, seven dances appear with titles related to members of the court of Charles VII (1403-61),
Jean’s cousin. The dances likely formed part of the festivities surrounding Jean’s return and the final
days of Charles’ prolonged stay in Lorraine at Nancy as guest of his brother-in-law, René, Duke of
Anjou (Angers), Lorraine, and Bar. “[A]nd,” as David Wilson speculates, “it is likely enough that this
was the occasion on which he chose to make notes of the step-sequences of dances then in
fashion.”69 If Jean, or any other court member, was indeed the annotator, it makes sense that we find
in Nancy a short-hand notation of the steps with no further indications—personal notes as a
reminder of how to partake in these dances.
1.1.B.i. The Dance, the Steps, and the Choreographies
Toulouze and Br9085 concentrate on the basse danse—a couple’s dance—alone in theory and
practice. The manuals define the genre as being “called basse danse because it is played according to
the maier parfait and because, when one dances it, one goes serenely, without being agitated, as
67 For a full transcription of the two treatises plus an integrated translation see Adam Bregman, “Appendix 4: The Text
of the Theoretical Treatise on the basse danse,” in Margaret of Austria’s basse danse Manuscript, Ms. 9085: Study, ed. Grantley
McDonald (Antwerp: Standaard Uitgeverij, 2022), 260-69. 68 Nancy: [Jean d’Orléans], flyleaf, in Guillaume Cousinot, Geste des nobles francoys (1445), Paris, BnF, fonds fr. 5699,
gallica.bnf.fr. For further details of its history, see Crane, Materials, 21-23. 69 Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 11. For more on the identification of, or speculation about, the people to whom the
dance titles refer, see also M. Vallet de Viriville, ed., Chronique de la pucelle… (Paris, 1859; reprint Geneva, 1976), 99-103,
and Crane, Materials, 21-22.

22
gracefully as possible.”70 As stated at the beginning of this chapter, “basse” refers to the earthbound, gliding movements that comprise the elegant choreographies. The definition further relates
the dance to its musical meter, “maier parfait,” or perfect tempus with major prolation ( ).71 The one
other piece of information the treatise divulges concerning the music is the relationship of the steps
to the notes:
Also, know that two pas simples, one pas double, one desmarche, and one branle each occupy as
much time as the others.
That is to say that each of them must occupy one entire note of basse danse, that is, two pas
simples – one note, one pas double – one note, one desmarche – also one note, and the same for
a branle.
72
A dancer would deploy each step-unit—a pas double, desmarche, branle, or two pas simples—over the
time of one note—a breve—of the accompanying music. (Note that the modern term “step-unit”
refers to the step, or steps, that occupies one tempus—breve—of basse danse or one tempo—breve—of
bassadanza.)
A modest total of four different steps serve to comprise the choreographies of the basse
danse:
73
• The pas simples (ss), or “single steps,” only ever occur as a pair. In a forward motion, the
dancer elevates the body (akin to Domenico’s movimento and equally integral to every step)
and takes an initial step with the left foot (L) followed by a second step with the right (R).
The name “single” refers to the fact that each foot makes a single movement forward.
• The pas double (d), or “double step,” may occur in any odd grouping of one, three, or five in a
row. The first begins with that same elevation of the body and “three light steps forward,”
70 “et se nomme basse danse pour ce que on la ioue selon maier parfait et pour ce que quant on la danse on va en paix
sans soy demener le plus gracieusement que on peult”; Br9085, fol. 4v, and Toulouze, fol. A1v. 71 Recall that this was also an option given by certain Italian dance masters for the bassadanza. 72 Br9085, fols. 1v, 4v (see n66 above); Toulouze, fols. A1r-A1v. 73 The following descriptions are drawn directly from Br9085, fols. 2v, 5r-v, 3r-v; and Toulouze, fols. A2r-v. For more
ample descriptions of these steps and their execution, see Brainard, The Art of Courtly Dancing, 2:16-31; and Bregman and
Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 25-27.
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L-R-L. The second would then continue and, consequently, invert the step pattern as R-L-R,
followed by a third that would be executed as the first, L-R-L, and so on for the fourth and
fifth. Despite the fact that this movement engages three steps in total, the term “double”
refers to the movement of one foot twice, L for every odd pas double, and R for every even
pas double.
• The desmarche (r)—meaning “retreat” or “recoil”—is a backward step that can occur singly or
in a group of three. The description for this step is the least clear, necessitating some
interpretation. Beginning with that same elevation of the body, the dancers take a step
backwards with R for the first desmarche, then “draw the right foot back near the other
foot”—in other words, stepping twice consecutively with R. The only way for this to
function feasibly is by taking an initial step backwards with R, then swinging R around in a
semi-circular motion bringing it back next to L, executing a half-turn with the body to face
the direction from which one came.74 Again elevating the body, a second desmarche would
involve drawing L backwards while turning towards one’s partner, the drawing the R back to
meet L. The third step occurs in the same manner and place as the first, such that the
dancers complete a full turn and continue in the initial direction of the dance.
o A single desmarche as the opening step of a basse danse integrates a reverence, or bow,
inclining the body towards one’s partner by stepping backwards with L. Today we
distinctly refer to this step as a révérence (R), distinguishing it from the desmarche, but
no nominal distinction seems to have been made in the fifteenth century.
74 I am very grateful to Véronique Daniels for sharing this interpretation with me in a private conversation on October
13, 2022. She reminded me that “reculer” could mean to move backwards while facing the same direction as the
trajectory of the dance, as well as to turn around and move in the opposite direction, as in the case of a retreating army.

24
• The branle (b) begins with L and ends with R, where the dancers oscillate their bodies,
shifting their weight from one foot to the other.
In contrast to the descriptive prose of the Italian bassadanza choreographies (see Ch. 3.3.A),
those for the basse danse appear as a series of letters—given above in parentheses next to the name of
each step—strung together in a shorthand tablature (see fig. 1.6). That Br9085 was intended for (an)
initiated dancer(s) is evident from the lack of key to decipher the choreographic tablature, something
that the novice would need to interpret the dance. Accordingly, such a key concludes the treatise
text in Toulouze, a print intended for mass production and wide distribution.75
A knowledge of how to execute each of the steps in the basse danse does not suffice, however.
The theoretical text tells us:
to properly dance a basse danse two things are required: first, that one know the number of
steps for each dance; second, that one know how to execute the correct number of [steps]
according to the mesure. Each basse danse will make itself known by the precise number of
steps with which it was devised and that it needs. If necessary, the manner in which each of
the aforementioned steps is executed may be demonstrated and taught.76
This information—the number of steps/notes and mesures—appears as an extension of each dance
title (see fig. 1.5).
Observing the different choreographies, we quickly realize that each is devised of a lucid,
curated structure. The order of the steps is not at all random. Rather, it falls into clear patterning
definitive of the Franco-Burgudian basse danse: the so-called mesures.
77 These were highly codified,
predetermined groups of steps that fell into one of nine possible categories (see table 1.2). The basic
75 “And note that, in order to more easily comprehend the letters that follow after the notes, for ‘R’ you must understand
desmarche, for ‘B’ branle, for ‘S’ pas simple, and for ‘D’ you must understand pas double”; Toulouze, fol. A3r. As an additional
sign that the book was marketed for public distribution, the colophon (fol. B6v) states, “Here end the rules for dancing
all dances[.] With these rules are [tenors] notated to be played on any instrument,” a statement that would continue to
appear on printed collections of music into the seventeenth century.
76 Br9085, fol. 2r; Toulouze, fols. A1v-A2r. The final sentence gives the fascinating insight that the treatise, like the
Italian manuals, perhaps originated at the hand of a dance master, who would have been present and available (at court)
to instruct the proper movements necessitated by each step and how to progress seamlessly from one to the next.
77 The discussion of the mesures occurs in Br9085, fols. 1r-v, 6r-v; Toulouze, fols. A1r, A2v-A3r.

25
structure of each mesure was as follows: it began with a pair of pas simples (ss), then the pas double(s) (d–
ddd–ddddd), which could be again followed by ss, and ended with the desmarche(s) (r–rrr) and a branle
(b). What never changed were the opening ss and the closing b. For the middle, two different
adjectives specify the size—the number of pas doubles it comprised—and quality—the recurrence or
not of pas simples after the pas doubles, and the number of desmarches. 5 d occur in the grande mesure, 3
appear in the moyenne mesure, and 1 in the petite mesure. In a mesure (tres) parfaite, ss and 3 desmarches
followed the pas double(s).
78 In a mesure plus que parfaite, ss and a single desmarche followed the pas
double(s).
79 No pas simples but 3 desmarches alone follow the pas doubles in a mesure imparfaite. When
combined, a grande mesure imparfaite, for example, begins with ss (as they all do), and includes 5 d
followed by no pas simples and 3 r, ending in the final, punctuating branle: ss ddddd rrr b. Different sizes
and qualities of mesures combined to provide a choreography with the same number of steps as the
number of notes in the accompanying melody. They often occur sequentially where two types of
mesure alternate, as in “La margarite” (fig. 1.5), where moyennes and petites mesures imparfaites combine to
complete the choreography.
“prefix”* grande mesure moyenne mesure petite mesure
(tres) parfaite R b ss ddddd ss rrr b ss ddd ss rrr b ss d ss rrr b
plus que parfaite R b ss ddddd ss r b ss ddd ss r b ss d ss r b
imparfaite R b ss ddddd rrr b ss ddd rrr b ss d rrr b
Table 1.2: The nine types of mesure in the fifteenth-century basse danse80
78 Br9085 names four different qualities of mesure, including parfaite and tres parfaite, but only describes three, omitting the
parfaite. Toulouze names and describes three qualities of mesure, making no mention of the tres parfaite. The description in
Toulouze of the mesure parfaite corresponds to the mesure tres parfaite of Br9085.
Note that when ss follows the pas double(s), they must be executed R-L rather than L-R as with those that precede the
pas double(s), since the desmarche that follows begins with R; in Br9085, fol. 3r; Toulouze, A2v. 79 While no mesure plus que parfaite figures among any of the fifteenth century choreographies, they become integral to the
sixteenth-century choreographies (see below). 80 NB: “rdr” is interchangeable with “rrr,” such that “ss d rdr b” is a direct variant of petite imparfaite; see Jennifer Nevile,
“Dance and Identity in Fifteenth-Century Europe,” in Music, Dance, and Society: Medieval and Renaissance Studies in Memory of
Ingrid G. Brainard, ed. Ann Buckley and Cynthia J. Cyrus (Kalamazoo, 2011): 231-48 at 234.
* “ss d r” appears as another recurring prefix to the mesures in the body of a choreography.

26
Figure 1.5: “La margarite a xxxviii notes a v. mesures/.” (“La margarite in 38 notes in 5 mesures,”
Br9085, no. 5) with sequential mesures labelled.
Figure 1.5 additionally shows the economy of ink and space used in the francophone
manuals to relate all of the pertinent information for each dance. Under the silhouette of the melody
lies the title line that presents the name of the dance (“La margarite”), its number of notes (“a xxxviii
notes”), and its number of mesures (“a v mesures”), below which stands the precise choreography in
its signature tablature format.
Finally, the manuals describe two forms of basse danse: majeure and mineure.
81 The basse danse
majeure began with the choreographic “prefix” Rb—a révérence followed by a branle (see table 1.2). This
marked the basse danse proper, which proceeded throughout by the serene steps that coalesced to
form the mesures necessary to match the melodic tenor. In the basse danse mineure, however, the section
of basse danse proper was preceded by the pas de Brabant, both the name of a step and a different
dance altogether—the saltarello. Although no description is given in either treatise for the step of the
pas de Brabant, extrapolating from the Italian sources, we can infer that it was simply a pas double that
integrated a hop. (Presumably, this step and dance were current enough that the author of the text
found it unnecessary to include their description.) In lieu of step patterns, prose instructions about
81 Br9085, fol. 4r; Toulouze, fol. A1v.
moyenne mesure imparfaite petite mesure imparfaite

27
which partner dances and when accompany the music for the pas de Brabant. Thus, the basse danse
mineure was essentially a miniature dance suite in which a section of pas de Brabant was followed by a
section of basse danse, contrary to the order of the Italian combination of bassadanza–saltarello, and
where the basse danse omitted the opening reverence but began directly with a branle.
As mentioned above, Nancy gives a shorthand list of seven dances (see fig. 1.6). The first
four are clearly labelled as basses danses: “basse dance de bourgne [i.e., Bourgogne],” “de la royne de
cessile,” “de bourbon,” and “de ma dame de kalabre,” where each title is followed by its
choreography.82 The subsequent three titles—“Ma dame la daufine,” “Ma dame de facon,” and
“Falet”—do not begin with the preposition “de,” divorcing them from the heading “basse dance.”83
Figure 1.6: The Nancy Choreographies
82 The preposition “de” preceding the last three titles would imply that each is a basse danse like the first. 83 For a comparison of the dances in Nancy and an in-depth discussion of their step sequences, see David R. Wilson, “A
further Look at the Nancy Basse Dances,” Historical Dance 3, no. 3 (1994): 24-28, and Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook,
12-17.

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The choreographies in Nancy use a tablature system comprised mainly of numbers and
letters. The first, “basse danse de bourgogne,” for example, reads:
3 s 5 d 3 s a coste droit 3 r 1 conge 3 s 1 d
3 s a coste droit 3 r 1 congie
Although the author has provided no key to decrypt the literal abbreviations, a comparison with the
later dance manuals reveals that they had not changed. Following the quantity of each step to occur,
s denotes a pas simple (or “pas sangle,” as it appears written out in the final dance, “Falet”), d stands
for a pas double, and r signifies a “reprise”—as spelled out in Falet—or desmarche. “Conge” or
“congie,” written in full, is a term used here synonymously with branle.
84 We further find the
directional indication “to the right side” (“a coste droit”). Despite the inclusion of this and other
directional and spatial markers—such as “auant” (“forwards”), “recules” (“backwards”), “a senestre”
and “a destre” (“to the left” and “to the right”)—and distinct steps—such as “leuees” (“lifts” or
“rises”) and “saulz” (“leaps” or “hops”)—these dances use a basic step vocabulary similar to that
found in Br9085 and Toulouze.85 Significantly, the choreographic hallmark of the FrancoBurgundian mesure is present at this earlier stage in the dance, even if in its infancy and not
completely crystallized. Although we find groups of three pas simples, which would later be pared
down to two, the steps of the “basse dance de bourgogne” clearly form two proto-mesures, grande
parfaite and petite parfaite.
86
84 See the description of steps in the sixteenth century, Ch. 5.1.A. 85 With the exception of the first (Basse dance de Bourgogne), however, Heartz argued that the Nancy dances were not true
basses danses since they contain leaps, unlike their more sober counterparts from later in the century in “The Basse
Dance,” 292. This was later rejected by Crane, Dixon, and Wilson, defending the admittance of leaps as minor variants
in sequences that otherwise seem to form proto-mesures; see Crane, Materials, 22-23; Peggy Dixon, “Reflections on Basse
Dance Source Material: A Dancer’s Review, Part I,” Historical Dance 2 no. 5 (1986/7): 22-25; David R. Wilson, “A
Further Look at the Nancy Basse Dances,” Historical Dance 3, no. 3 (1994): 24-28; Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 12-
13.
While Wilson outright rejects “Ma dame la daufine” as a basse danse due to its stark differences in choreographic
structure compared with the first four, “Ma dame de facon” and “Falet” contain step sequences that more closely
resemble the proto-mesures of the first four basses danses. 86 Even groups (twos and fours) of pas doubles appear in the other basses danses of Nancy, although they also were
abandoned by the end of the century.

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1.1.B.ii. The Music of Br9085 and Toulouze
The two fifteenth-century Franco-Burgundian dance manuals present music for the basse
danse that represents different types of notational styles. 57 of the cumulative dances in Br9085 and
Toulouze present melodies as chains of isometric blackened breves, as shown in figures 1.6 and 1.8.
Just as the steps are organized into choreographic periods or phrases—mesures—we may discern
clear phrases within the accompanying music. The two tunes presented in figure 1.7, “Le petit
Rouen” and “Filles a marier,” show these phrases particularly well since, although rare among the
isometric tenors, they all comprise 8 notes without exception (compare with “La margarite” in figure
1.5). The characteristic marker of the cadential arrival at the end of a phrase is a strong–weak
double-breve punctuation (notes 7 and 8 of each phrase here) culminating a melodic descent (tenor
function) or, at times, ascent (cantus function).87
Figure 1.7: “Le petit Rouen” and “Filles a marier”
Left: Br9085, nos. 16-17; Right: Toulouze, nos. 1-2.
Despite the symmetry that the choreographies present with their often-alternating pattern of
mesures, the musical phrases seldom share this same regularity (e.g., “La Margarite” in figure 1.5).
87 Discussed in Frederick Crane, “The Derivation of Some Fifteenth-Century Basse-Danse Tunes,” Acta Musicologica 37,
fasc. 3/4 (July-December 1965): 179-88 at 185-86, and Crane, Materials, 32.

30
And, even when they do, as in the two examples in the above figure, although the steps align with
the notes in a one-to-one proportion, there is little coincidence of cadence, if ever, between the
phrases of music and choreography.88 Heartz eloquently compared the fractured relationship
between the mesures and the musical phrases to contemporary architecture:
This complex of symmetries and asymmetries which is the fifteenth-century basse dance could
be compared to a late Gothic façade; viewed from one point of vantage all is irregular and
asymmetrical; when viewed from a different perspective the symmetries and constructional
plan spring before the eyes.89
Such was the “fantastic late-Gothic world of the Pfundnoten tenors” and their choreographies.90 But
this world was not one without rivals, for our two principal manuals give other forms of notation
beyond these isometric tenors. Three titles common to both volumes—“(la) Beaulte de castille,”
“Roti boully ioyeulx,” and “Lesperance de bourbon”—combine void mensural notation with the
Figure 1.8: “Lesperance de bourbon”
Left: Br9085, no. 56; Right: Toulouze, no. 21
88 As David Wilson explains, “In most other dance types, sections of music and measures of dance closely correspond,
but not in the basse dance. Instead, the music and the steps each have their own structure, which move in parallel but
seldom exactly coincide except at the beginning and the end of the dance”; David R. Wilson, “The Basse Dance c. 1445-
c. 1545,” in Dance, Spectacle, and the Body Politick, 1250-1750, ed. Jennifer Nevile (Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana
University Press, 2008), 166-81 at 169. Victor Gavenda likened the misalignment of musical and choreographic phrase
endings in the basse danse to the phased relationship between the color (pitch pattern) and talea (rhythmic pattern) of the
isorhythmic motet, “a genre which was increasingly cultivated, like the basse danse, as a conscious archaism”; Victor
Gavenda, “The Brussels basses danses manuscript,” in Les Basses Danses de Marguerite d’Autriche. Kommentarband, ed. Claudine
Lemaire, et al. (Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, 1988), 57-76 at 65. 89 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 295.
90 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 319.

31
blackened breves. As shown in figure 1.8, the music for the pas de Brabant of the basse danse mineure
“Lesperance de bourbon” uses void mensural notation, followed by its isometric section of basse
danse. The same is the case for “Roti boully ioyeulx” (Br9085, no. 55; Toulouze, no. 20—see fig. 4.6),
the other basse danse mineure. “(la) Beaulte de castille” (Br9085, no. 25; Toulouze, no. 19) intermingles
blackened and void notation throughout. It is the only dance in either volume that specifies three
dancers, and it behaves more like an Italian ballo in both its freely arranged choreographic gestures
and musical notation.
Finally, three “mensural” basses danses unique to Br9085—“La danse de Ravestain” (no. 30,
but incomplete), “La danse de cleves” (no. 57), and “La franchoise nouvelle” (no. 58)—give their
music entirely in void notation, as exemplified in figure 1.9.
Figure 1.9: “La franchoise nouvelle et le faut iuer .ii. fois”
“La franchoise nouvelle and it must be played two times,” Br9085, no. 58

32
Looking at the ensemble of the information presented above, we might ask ourselves, how
can all of these contrasting descriptions be discussing exactly the same thing?! This was precisely the
problem encountered by the dance and music historians who rediscovered these sources in the
twentieth century. The history of this “problem”—interpreting and understanding the Renaissance
basse danse and bassadanza—will be explored in the next chapter.

33
Chapter 2
The Problems
A Historiography
The seemingly substantial number of surviving sources of French and Italian dance
repertoire from the fifteenth century has nonetheless raised myriad questions for the twentiethcentury scholars who rediscovered them. This owes in part to the notion that some of these dance
manuals were dedicated and belonged to people of the highest societal strata who were steeped in
this specific dance culture, which formed an integral part of their basic education, and benefitted, in
certain cases, from the direct instruction of the author.1 Thus, the manuscripts clearly served as a
reminder to their owners of the beneficial virtues of dance and, in brief, of how to execute the steps
and the course of different choreographies, sometimes accompanied by their tunes but not always.
Because the manuals from the two regions present their material in vastly different ways, however,
the questions that they evoke vary.
As mentioned in Chapter 1, the Italian sources detail the philosophy of dance and its origins,
explain the nature of the different court dances and their relationship to one another, and give prose
descriptions of the choreographies. For the bassadanza, only three tunes are notated—in a single
source (V)—over the entire corpus. Cornazano describes these three as “the best, and most used of
all,” and neither he nor his compatriots feel it necessary to give their choreographies.2 These
melodies appear as strands of perfect semibreves under the sign (see figs. 1.4 and 6.1). The
1 As a case in point, the one surviving print source, Toulouze, that could easily have been mass produced and marketed
to a wider public, unlike Br9085, gives an additional, final paragraph of its treatise explaining the meaning of the letters
of the dance tablature “in order to more easily comprehend the letters that follow after the notes”; Toulouze, fol. A3r.
Claude Thiry suggested the notion of intended readership owing to the presence of this paragraph in Toulouze and its
absence in Br9085 in Thiry, ‘Le Texte de L’art et instruction de basse danse’, in Lemaire, Claudine eds. Basses danses dites de
Marguerite d'Autriche Ms. aus dem Besitz der Bibliothèque royale Albert Ier, Bruxelles vollständige Faksimile-Ausgabe im Originalformat
der Handschrift, ed. Claudine Lemaire, Claude Thiry, and Victor Gavenda (Graz: Akademische Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt,
1987): 25-56 at 27. 2 “Seghuino tenori da bassedançe et saltarelli gli megliori et piu usitati digli altri”; Smith, 1:106.
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bassadanza choreographies—albeit devoid of their melody—that do appear, however, give variant
interpretations among the sources for dances of the same name.
3 Naturally, then, the question arises,
what were the other tunes? And how exactly did the music and steps correspond?
The francophone sources are more purely practical in their nature, free of any explicit,
philosophical musing about dance and its virtues. They explain the basse danse and its sometimesaccompanying pas de Brabant, detailing the execution of the steps, their arrangement into mesures, and
a clear explanation of the one-to-one relationship of tenor notes to step-units. They mostly give
complete melodies in chains of isometric breves in coloration to be “played according to the maier
parfait,” each accompanied by its choreography (see figs. 1.5 and 1.7).
4 Other melodies, however,
combine the blackened breves and void mensural notation (see fig. 1.8), while three more unique to
Br9085 give only void mensural notation (see fig. 1.9). The main questions here are, what are the
meter, pulse, and internal rhythm of the isometric basses danses, and how do they relate to those
dances that use void notation? Finally, given the mysterious origins of the music in all of the sources,
and the scant information about its performance, further questions pertinent to both traditions are,
what is the provenance of the tunes, and how did musicians perform them?
It is important to establish that the study of the basse danse, in particular, forms the main
body of the musicological research that stretches over the past hundred years. Dance historians have
devoted equal attention to the dance on the Italian peninsula and in the Franco-Burgundian region,
since descriptions of the dances and their choreographies survive in equal quantities from both
traditions as outlined above.5 The circumstance that only three tunes of bassadanza survive—and no
3 These variant choreographies are compared in Smith, vol. 2.
4 Br9085, fol. 4v.
5 See, for example, Brainard, The Art of Courtly Dancing; Hoeksema, “The Steps and Music of the Italian ballo”; Marrocco,
Inventory of Fifteenth-Century bassedanze, balli, and balletti; Smith, vols. 1-2; David R. Wilson, “The Basse danse c. 1445-c.
1545,” in Dance, Spectacle, and the Body Politick, 1250-1750, ed. Jennifer Nevile (Bloomington and Indianapolis, 2008), 166-
181; Wilson, “The Development of French Basse Danse,” Historical Dance 2, no. 4 (1984/5): 5-12; Wilson, The Basse Dance
Handbook; and Wilson, “Theory and Practice in the Fifteenth-Century French Basse Danse,” Historical Dance 2, no. 3 (1983):
1-2.

35
certain leads for tunes that could accompany surviving bassadanza choreographies—has made an indepth study of this genre alone impossible, especially with the comparative numbers of balli and
balletti—the subject of several studies—for which both choreographies and music survive.
Accordingly, the relative abundance of basses danses took precedence in musicological studies, which
took the magnificent yet austere collection of basses danses that belonged to Margaret of Austria
(Br9085) as the main fountainhead. The music of these dances nonetheless prompted questions of
performance practice, as noted above, that puzzled those studying the genre, leading Raymond
Meylan, for example, to entitle his 1968 study of the Franco-Burgundian tradition, “The Enigma of
the Music of the Fifteenth-Century basse danse.”6
Perhaps the main “enigma” surrounding the isometric basses danses and bassedanze is their
metrical and internal rhythmic structure. This “problem” of what to do with these long-note
melodies—chant-like in appearance yet clearly of a universe unto themselves—has been the main
cause of strife in decoding the performance of the genre, one for which, “if we cannot manage to
resolve it, the rest hardly matters,” according to Ernest Closson.7 Closson was the first in the
twentieth century to revisit the basse danse genre with his 1912 study and comparative edition
(modern engravings with a non-photographic facsimile reproduction) of Br9085.8
Distraught at his
own failure to understand the melodic rhythm and how to add “melismas,” or diminutions, between
them and, as he esteemed, at Hugo Riemann’s subsequent failure to do the same, he worried,
and as we cannot recreate this figuration, I fear that the prestigious manuscript, with its
sumptuous notation in gold and silver on a black background, will be forever held in
6 Raymond Meylan, L’Énigme de la musique des basses danses du quinzième siècle (Bern and Stuttgart: Édition Paul Haupt,
1968).
7 “Si l’on ne parvient pas à le résoudre, le reste ne présente plus guère d’intérêt”; Ernest Closson, “La Structure
rythmique des Basses danses du mst. 9085 de la Bibliothèque royale de Bruxelles,” Sammelbände der Internationalen
Musikgesellshcaft 14, no. 4 (July-September 1913): 567-78 at 577. 8 Ernest Closson, Le Manuscrit dit des basses danses de la Bibliothèque de Bourgogne: Introduction et transcription (1912; reprint,
Geneva: Minkoff, 1976).

36
abeyance. … I, myself, have expressed the desire, and still wish, that someone more
knowledgeable and more adept will provide the sought-after solution.9
Other proposals that sought to remedy the principal questions of rhythm and meter for these dance
tunes followed over a forty-year period until Otto Gombosi first decoded the rhythmic structure of
the basse danse in his seminal 1955 study of “Cantus Firmus Dances” that traced the history of the
celebrated dance tune, La Spagna (see Ch. 6).10 In order to contextualize the difficulty of the situation
and questions surrounding the meter of the basse danse and bassadanza that persist, it is worthwhile to
sketch the modern history of the problem(s).
Closson’s study of Br9085 exposed the mystery surrounding the rhythm of the isometric
basse danse tenors. He simply could not imagine that a melody comprised entirely of notes of equal
length could possibly serve to animate a dance; and, although only seldom the case, he saw possible
latent rhythms, giving the following example of “Le hault et le bas”:11
Figure 2.1: “Le hault et le bas”
Above: Closson’s supposed rhythm (p. 66); Below: Br9085, no. 19
His grouping of what amounts to six breves per bar of the example above (8:1 reduction) stems
from his reading of “maier parfait” to refer to perfect major modus (i.e., perfect maximas) with
9 “Et comme on ne peut reconstituer cette figuration, je crains bien que le prestigieux manuscript, avec sa somptueuse
notation en or et argent sur fond noir, ne reste à jamais lettre morte. … J’ai moi-même exprimé le vœu, et souhaite
encore, qu’un plus savant et plus habile apporte la solution cherchée”; Closson, “La Structure rythmique des Basses
danses,” 577-78. 10 Otto Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” in Vincenzo Capirola, Lute Book (circa 1517), ed. Otto Gombosi, (1955;
reprint New York: Da Capo Press, 1983), xxxvi-lxiii. 11 For this and the following discussion, see Closson, Le Manuscrit dit des basses danses, 66-71.

37
imperfect minor modus (i.e., imperfect longs). He was further bewildered by the fact that the ligatures
did not seem to have any bearing on the values of the notes they contained. (Of course, the
proposed rhythmicized reading that he gives for “Le hault et le bas” concerns a tune that lacks any
ligatures, thus he could not justify his interpretation.) Since each note receives one step-unit, he
reasons in astonishment that each breve, ligated or not, maintains the same value, abandoning his
theory about rhythm as given in figure 2.3, but he cannot fathom why the scribe used ligatures in the
manuscript at all. His transcription reflects the isometry of the tenors. For the mensural dances (see
fig. 2.2), he presumes that “maier parfait” refers to without stating as much, and his transcriptions
assume semibreves (transcribed as minims) to be perfect. He must take pains, however, to alter the
number of beats per measure to accommodate a meter that simply does not fit the given notes.
Furthermore, his barring is based on presumed melodic stresses. He further compares the basses
danses of Br9085 with Arbeau’s “Jouyssance vous donneray” (see Ch. 5). He explains that, based on
the deployment of the steps, one isometric breve equates 4 measures (12 minims) of the sixteenthcentury basse danse commune, and compares these with his -transcription of “La franchoise nouvelle”
(Br9085, no. 58) to arrive at an irregular pattern of step distribution that is anything but
straightforward or intuitive, at times falling mid-note:12
12 Closson, “La Structure rythmique des Basses danses,” 571-72.
Ernest Closson, La Structure rythmique des Basses danses etc. 571
85
r
variante
de a)
d
b c
= 16 mes.
Total . .. 80 mes.
Je passe sur le cretourv ou emoiti6 de basse dansev, analogud a ce qui
precede, et sur le (tourdionv, figure compl~mentaire apportant une m6lodie
et des pas diffdrents, et dont il n'est pas encore question dans notre manu-
scrit.
sont quatre fois plus nombreuses que les pas; pour un seul pas, il y a douze
Le morceau que l'on vient de lire est hautement suggestif. Les mesures
, ou vingt-quatre . MIme en supposant une execution extremement rapide,
tude depuis quarante ou cinquante anst)>, ffit devenue bien diffdrente de
ce rapport implique l'extrAme lenteur des figures choregraphiques. Imagine-
t-on nos danses, dans la transcription de M. Riemann (ou la mienne), avec
une note par pas, executies dans une mouvement correspondant? On ne pent
supposer qu'a l'epoque oh ecrit Tabourot, la basse danse, ctombde en disu6-
les lettres conventionnelles des tablatures sont demeures & peu pros les memes.
ce qu'elle 4tait A 1'dpoque de la confection de notre manuscrit; les pas et
reprise du no 59, cerit en notation mensurale, est accompagnee de sa tabla-
Le manuscrit offre d'ailleurs I ce sujet un timoignage d6cisif. La premisre
ture. Cette tablature comprend vingt-quatre pas, tandis que la phrase musi-
(un quaternion), ce qui, avec la reprise, fait exactement deux pas par distinc-
cale se decompose nettement en six distinctions, chacune de quatre mesures
tion. Le rapport sera done, tr6s approximativement, le suivant:
N" 59. La franzhoise nouvelle.
La 14re fois.
La 26me fois. R b as d d
d I dr2) "IZZ . . .... "F-I -T _-' ".. - m-----~_42a.: ' _. . 7._ :: :,-
a.. - -., r_ l jlo ,,g I ,_z P4- I -
1) Nous la trouvons encore dans le Boexke van dansery de Susato (Anvers, 1551); mais le Premier livre de danseries de Pierre PhalBse (Anvers, 1571) n'en con-
tient plus une seule et Le Gratie d'amore de Negri (Milan, 1602) ne souffle plus
niot de la basse danse.
2) Dans ce numbro, la ddmarche esat indiquie non plus par r, mais par dr.
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∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z

38
Figure 2.2: “La franchoise nouvelle” with rhythm (note values halved from original) and step
distribution according to Closson, “La Structure rythmique des Basses danses,” 571-72.
Thinking about the nature of the melodies, some isometric in long values and others with greater
rhythmic variety and vivacity, he reasons in the end that:
these melodies are of two types: only the tunes, or parts of tunes, notated in unequal values
represent genuine melodies; the others are scaffolding meant to illustrate the choreographic
theory, and that we may use to represent a series of principal tones, devoid of their melismas
and their intervening melodic passages.13
Thus, to his mind, each note of the isometric tenors was a principal tone that, when taken
altogether, silhouetted a structural melody to be ornamented.14
The year following Closson’s publication, Hugo Riemann published an article explaining a
new theory on the rhythmic structure of the basses danses in Br9085.15 His criticism of Closson’s
interpretation stemmed from the meaning of “maier parfait.” Riemann contended that “maier”
referred to the basse danse majeure, which foregoes an initial pas de Brabant and begins with the basse
danse proper opening with a révérence. “Parfait” was a reference to the mesure—parfaite vs. imparfaite. To
13 “À notre avis, ces mélodies sont de deux sortes : seuls les airs, ou parties d’airs, notés en valeurs inégales
représenteraient des mélodies authentiques ; les autres seraient des schémas destinés à illustrer la théorie chorégraphique,
et qu’on peut se représenter comme une série de sons principaux, privés de leurs mélismes et de leurs conduits
intercalaires”; Closson, Le Manuscrit dit des basses danses, 70-71. 14 Bukofzer explains this view very clearly: “The black breves in the Brussels and Toulouze collections have generally
been regarded as a vague sort of plainsong notation … which fix merely the pitch but not the time value, and it has been
supposed that the improvising player ornamented and expanded the tenor and thus brought it into the appropriate
rhythm”; in Manfred E. Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic Basse Danse of the Renaissance,” in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance
Music (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1950): 190-216 at 201. 15 Hugo Riemann, “Die rhythmische Struktur der Basses dances der Handschrift 9085 der Brüsseler Kgl. Bibliothek,”
Sämmelbände der Internationalen Musikgesellschaft 3 (April-June 1913): 349-68
572 Ernest Closson, La Structure rythmique des Basses danses etc.
ds
_ d dr
dr .s
b ss
d_ _ i dr b _d dr b
On ne saurait douter que les danses notdes en breves n'aient dai se
rythmer d'une maniere analogue. C'est ce que remarque fort bien M. Ecorche-
ville au sujet du no 56, I'Espirance de Bourbon, en pas ,de Brabant, (de gaillarde), auquel s'enchaine, sous le m6me titre, la basse danse no 57. Le
premier est note en valeurs mensurales,
* Ietc.
le second en braves:
bssdddssrrrbssdssrrrbc
(Qui ne voit, dit M. Ecorcheville, que ce rythme suit tout naturelle-
ment celui du reste de la mdlodie?, Il y a cela un empechement. La tablature de ]a basse danse concorde avec la m'lodie, sauf une unitd; il y
a 17 pas pour 16 notes. Comment, d&s lors, attribuer un pas 4 chacune
de ces notes diffdremment rythmdes? On pourrait, il est vrai, n'en at-
tribuer qu'un ou deux a la phrase entiere et supposer que la m'lodie devait
etre ripte jusqu'a 'puisement des pas; cette hypothese est autorisde par
les descriptions de Tabourot, qui cite une danse Kdes bouffons, oA le meme
motif 6tait r6pdtd plus de quatre-vingt fois; - ce sont meme ces reprises
interminables qui donnrent naissance aux (doubles) de Rameau, Couperin,
J. S. Bach, etc. Mais que devient, dans tout ceci, le double principe de
nos tablatures: 10 une note - un pas; 20 tous les pas et toutes les notes
sont egaux entre eux? Ce principe s'impose h nous avec la rigueur d'un
axiome, confirm6 qu'il est par la concordance des nombres. Le no 25 (Beaut,
de Castille), en notation mixte, va d'ailleurs nous permettre de le verifier:
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39
prove his theory, he attempted to rhythmicize the isometric basse danse majeure tenors of Br9085. To
his mind, there had to be a logical correspondence of mesure and musical phrase. He transcribed each
blackened breve as a quarter note and grouped them into bars of 4/4 when they coincided with
mesures parfaites and into bars of 3/4 when they coincided with mesures imparfaites. He exemplified his
rationale using the following two moyennes mesures:
16
The brackets indicate the metrical groupings, which he based solely on the groups of doubles and
desmarches (here erroneously transcribed as “z”) using varying numbers of upbeats to accommodate
whatever preceded. The opening “Rb” of a dance fell under a note with a fermata, and the closing
branle step of each mesure fell under a note of variable value (worth anywhere from 2 to 7 quarter
notes) with a fermata, irrespective of where it fell within the musical phrase. Continuing with the
example of “Le hault et le bas,” Riemann’s rendition was thus:17
Figure 2.3: “Le hault et le bas” according to Riemann (p. 360)
Because this melody is symmetrical, giving twice the same pattern of 16 notes neatly organized into
8-note phrases—the only basse danse tenor to do so—we clearly see Riemann’s struggle to shoehorn a
16 Riemann, “Die rhythmische Struktur der Basses dances,” 351. 17 Note that “Le hault et le bas” does not begin with a révérence, which Véronique Daniels suggests could mean that it was
conceived of as a basse danse mineure for which an opening pas de Brabant must be provided; private conversation on
October 13, 2022. To consider the dance as a basse danse majeure that begins with a révérence, however, a choreography that
alternates moyenne parfaite and petite imparfaite yields a symmetrical patterning and concords with four other dances in
Br9085 of 32 step-units. Otherwise, the same dance in Toulouze (no. 4) gives moyenne parfaite – petite parfaite – moyenne
imparfaite – petite imparfaite. See Adam Bregman and Adam Knight Gilbert, “Appendix 5: Edition of Br9085 and Critical
Commentary,” in Margaret of Austria’s basse danse Manuscript, Royal Library of Belgium Ms. 9085: Study, ed. Grantley
McDonald (Antwerp: Standaard Uitgeverij, 2022), 270-328 at 290.
Hugo Riemann, Die rhythmische Struktur der Basses dances usw. 351
R b ff d ff xxx b
eine parfaite, weil vor und hinter dem d die ff stehen, und dagegen
R b ff d xxx b
ein imparfaite, weil hinter dem d die ff fehlen. Die gro5Bere ,Vollstiindig-
keitK der Mesures parfaites beruht also lediglich auf der reichlicheren Ver-
wendung der pas simples. Es ist darum auch ganz und gar nicht verwun-
derlich, daB eben diese fiir die Mesure parfaite charakteristische Einschaltung
den vierzuihligen Takt ergibt statt des dreiz*ihligen der imparfaites. Der
Tanzlehrer rechnet eben nicht mit 2 oder 3, sondern mit 4 oder 3 und
nennt 4 vollkommener als 3. FaBt man ein paar gr-Biere Megures ins Auge,
so sieht man ohne weiteres die Gruppierung zu je 4 oder je 3 Tabulatur-
zeichen, z. B.:
R b ff dx zfddd jf xxz b (vierzeitig)
R b ff d'dd xxx b (dreizeitig).
Beziiglich des Sinnes der Zeichen sei noch bemerkt, daB z die d6marche
bedeutet, einen elastischen Schritt vorwtirts mit Heranziehen des anderen
FuBjes, d den pas double, eine Art hinundhertiinzeln (links rechts links oder
rechts links rechts) ohne eigentliches Vorschreiten (les pas doubles sont
toujours non pas selon l'art de bien danser au vray), ff zwei pas simples,
kurze, schnelle Schritte, deren zwei eine Zeiteinheit gelten, soviel wie ein d,
ein x oder ein b. Da der branle, ein Hiniiberwerfen des Koirpergewichts vom
linken FuBl auf den rechten, aulBer zu Anfang nach der Reverence bzw. in
der Basse dance mineure iiberhaupt als Anfang des Tanzes, nur als regel-
miilliger Abschlul. der Mesure auftritt, so ist seine Gleichwertigkeit mit den
anderen pas schwerlich eine absolute, sondern vielmehr variabel, jenachdem
die folgende Mesure mit oder ohne Wechsel der Taktart und auftaktig oder
volltaktig anhebt. Die Einleitung gibt dartiber freilich keinen ganz be-
stimmten AufschlulB; aber die ausdriickliche Angabe der Zahl der (3-7) Mesures
in der Uberschrift der einzelnen Tiinze macht zur GewiBheit, daB diese SchluB-
note etwa so zu verstehen ist, wie im Choral die Note am Zeilenende (im
gregorianischen Choral die SchluBnote einer Distinktion). Wir diirfen ihr daher
unbedenklich eine Fermate geben, mit der Reserve, daB deren rhythmischer Wert
sich durch den Fortgang reguliert. Die Mesures parfaites werden in groBe
(grandes), mittlere (moyennes) und kleine (petites) geschieden, je nachdem sie
5, 3 oder 1 d (Pas doubles) zwischen den ff zeigen (fiir die Mesures impar-
faites fehlt eine iihnliche Definition). Das merkwiirdigste an diesen alten
Tiinzen ist die Freiheit, mit welcher Mesures im Quadrupeltakt mit solchen
im Tripeltakt wechseln oder in FTillen, wo kein Taktwechsel statthat, voll-
taktige, einfach, zweifach, ja (im Quadrupeltakt) gelegentlich auch dreifach
auftaktige Mesures nach dem stets auf die gute Zeit abschlieBenden branle
der vorausgehenden Mesure ansetzen. Von den 51 Tainzen, die fiir uns in
Frage kommen, haben 20 durchweg Tripeltakt, 11 durchweg Quadrupel,
10 dreimaligen Taktwechsel (I 3/4 VC 3/4), 5 zweimaligen und 5 einmaligen;
aber die Anschliisse erfolgen nur in den seltensten Fiillen so, daB der branle,
mit dem die vorausgehende Mesure abschlieBt, ohne empfindliche Starung
des rhythmischen Gefiihls als einfache Zeit hingenommen werden kinnte.
Dazu liegt aber auch keinerlei zwingender AnlaB vor, da eben die Mesures
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360 Hugo Riemann, Die rhythmische Struktur der Basses dances usw.
19. Le 1ault et le Bas. 4 Mesures (j 10, 7, 9; 3/4 6). Basse dance mineure (ohne
Reverence). Dorisch.
Schliissel feh1t. ,0
NB. b ff d d d ff x x b. ff d f x x b.
ff d dd ffx b. ffd x xx b.
20. Mamour. 3 Mesures (( 14, 7, 9). Dorisch.
e -9 ,-07" -p- -*-&* A-_
R b ff dd d d ff x b. ff d
ff x x x b. ff d d d f x x x b.
21. Alenchon. 3 Mesures ( ( 14, 7, 9). Dorisch.
R b ff d ff d d d f b. ff d
ff x b. ff d d d ff x x x b.
22. La Portingaloise. 3 Mesures (( 14, 7, 9). Mixolydisch.
R b ff d x ff d d d ff x x b. ff d
ff x x x b. ff d d d ff x x x b.
23. Sans faire de vous departie. 5 Mesures ( 13; 3/4 11, 9, 11, 10). Dur.
R b ff d d d dd d f x x x b. ff d x ff d d d
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40
rational organization that accounts for both melody and choreography. This struggle was not lost on
Closson who refuted most of Riemann’s interpretation of the theoretical references (“maier parfait”),
and his conjecture on the musical rhythm and the alignment of music and choreographies.18 For
Closson, the melodies have a clear structure that does not necessarily coincide with the equally clear
structure of the mesures. Furthermore, he saw no reason that the branle step should occupy more time
than any of the others, heeding the manuscript’s own description of how the steps and music align,
and he doubles down on the idea that “maier parfait” refers to perfect major modus (“ternarité absolue”)
and that the blackened breves present “melodic outlines [that] would have been rhythmically and
melodically enlivened through diminution.”19
Over a decade later, Friedrich Blume put forth a new study on the basse danse.
20 He rehashed
the discussions and interpretations of the basse danse by Closson and Riemann, highlighting the value
in the groundwork—however preliminary—laid by the former and the errors proffered by the latter.
He reestablished the importance of the analysis of the melodic phrase structure based on cadences
(pp. 45-54). He ventured on a long search for the “truth” about the value of the blackened breves,
taking readers on a convoluted, at times confusing journey. He first imagined that the term “notes”
given in descriptions of the dances in the titles referred to these musical phrases, rather than the
individual notes, such that the attribution “une note – un pas” (“one note [for] one step”) really
suggested that each step-unit was deployed over an entire musical phrase, and that the number of
“notes” was, in actuality, the number phrases of each tune that needed to be played in succession
and looped until all of the steps had been accommodated; otherwise, each blackened breve simply
18 Closson, “La Structure rythmique des Basses danses,” 567-78. 19 “Il n’est pas impossible que ces schémas de mélodies aient été animés rythmiquement et mélodiquement au moyen de
la diminution”; Hugo Wolf, Die Musik 5 (1912): 296, quoted in Closson, “La Structure rythmique des Basses danses,”
573-74. 20 Friedrich Blume, Studien zur Vorgeschichte der Orchestersuite im 15. und 16. Jahrhundert (Leipzig: F. Kistner & C.F.W. Siegel,
1925), 36-110.

41
would have had to be played too slowly—no quicker than 12 beats per minute (bpm)!
21 The
presence of a variant in the notation of the isometric basse danse in “Roti boully ioyeulx” (Br9085, no.
55; see fig. 4.6) caused him to double down on his insistence that the idea of “une note – un pas” must
be freely interpreted. This is the only basse danse in which each step appears above its note, but one is
missing in each of the first two phrases (separated by vertical “bar” lines).22 He went on to question
the reliability of the transmission of this particular dance since twice two void semibreves occur in
place of a blackened breve in the second half of the basse danse proper, and each receives one single
step (s). But, after analyzing two of the mensural basses danses, “La danse de cleves” and “La
franchoise nouvelle” (see figs. 4.11 and 4.10, respectively), he was finally able to settle on the
following metrical definition for all basses danses majeures, mensural and isometric: “The fifteenthcentury basse danse majeure is a dance played and stepped in a slow tempo in a triple meter (perfect
tempus with minor prolation), in which one step falls on each group of two measures [i.e., two perfect
breves] (in our manuscript, 6 semibreves).”23
In 1928, Erich Hertzmann published a brief study on the fifteenth-century basse danse, again
paying particular attention to Br9085.24 He first drew a parallel between notions of haut and bas,
referring to instruments, music, and dance in literary sources and descriptions of royal events at the
Burgundian court, before orienting his focus towards the basse danse. In this second section, he first
traced specific dance tenors to their presumed origins as chanson tenors—some more convincingly
than others. He used “Triste plaisir” (Br9085, no. 31), from the tenor of Gilles Binchois’ “Tristre
plaisir et douleureuse joye” (Ox213, fol. 56v), to show that each breve had doubled in length from
21 Blume, Studien zur Vorgeschichte der Orchestersuite, 54-55. 22 Blume, Studien zur Vorgeschichte der Orchestersuite, 61. 23 “Die Basse Danse majeur des 15. Jahrhunderts ist ein in langsamem Tempo gespielter, geschrittener Tanz im
Tripeltakt (tempus perfectum, prolatio minor), bei dem auf jede Zweitaktgruppe (in unserem Manuskript 6 Semibreven)
ein pas entfällt”; Blume, Studien zur Vorgeschichte der Orchestersuite, 65. 24 Erich Hertzmann, “Studien zur Basse danse im 15. Jahrhundert, mit besonderer Berücksichtigung des Brüsseler
Manuskripts,” Zeitschrift für Musikwissenschaft 11 (1928-29): 401-13

42
its original value as a perfect semibreve of the song and, accordingly, a breve of the song tenor
became two in the dance tenor (see fig. 3.2A). He compared the values of the dance tenor “Triste
plaisir” with Cornazano’s “Il re di Spagna” (see fig. 6.1) to show that the latter, as a saltarello in ,
used perfect semibreves versus the perfect breves of the basse danse—in . This follows logically
from Cornazano’s description that the note durations of the bassadanza double in value: “The breves
of the Brussels basse danse must therefore be considered perfect. Thereby, we maintain the same
mensuration for the ‘chant-notation’ basse danse as for the mensural [basses danses], for example, ‘La
danse de cleves’ or ‘La franchoise nouvelle.’”25 Following Blume’s lead, Hertzmann thus
demonstrated, from theoretical sources and the related song repertory, the idea that each breve of
isometric basse danse was perfect, worth three imperfect semibreves, and used the same meter as the
mensural basses danses: perfect tempus with minor (not major) prolation, .
Curt Sachs challenged this idea in a subsequent article, which he further expanded in Eine
Weltgeschichte des Tanzes (World History of the Dance). After assessing the theoretical writings of
Domenico, Cornazano, Arena, and Arbeau, Sachs reasoned that each tenor note of bassadanza and
isometric basse danse subdivided into four parts: one note equated an imperfect long composed of
two imperfect breves, in turn composed of two perfect semibreves.26 Furthermore, the metrical
arrangement of each note was such that the first of these four parts is an anacrusis (vuodo) to the
following three (pieno):
25 “Die Breven der Brüsseler B[asse] d[anse] müssen daher als perfekte gewertet warden. Damit erhalten wir also für die
‘choraliter notierten’ B d die gleiche Mensur wie für die mensurierten, z B in ‘La danse de cleves’ oder ‘La franchoise
nouvelle’”; Herzmann, ‘Studien zur Basse danse,” 411. 26 Curt Sachs, “Der Rhythmus der Basse danse,” Acta Musicologica 3, fasc. 3 (July-Sept. 1931): 107-11. A similar yet more
detailed discussion appears by the same author in Eine Weltgeschichte des Tanzes (1933), in translation as World History of the
Dance, trans. Bessie Schönberg (New York: W. W. Norton, 1937): 311-22.
110 Der Rhythmus der Basse danse
Cornazano 11 t gibt, um die Schrittdauer, aber nicht den Rhythmus(!) der
vier damals iiblichen Tanzarten zu vergleichen, und sie daher alle vier mit
dem gleichen MaBstab, naimlich dem Tempus perfectum, miBt.
Kaum abweichend sagt die Pariser Domenichino-Handschrift, die Bassa
danza sei di major imperfecto, se comenza al suo tempo in lo vuodo e com-
pisse in lo pienol): sie stehe im Tempus imperfectum und in Prolatio major,
fange mit dem Auftakt an und endige auf dem guten Taktteil. Also, in
unserm Sinne, ein zwei- oder vierschlaigiger Takt mit gedrittelten Vierteln
= 12/s.Takt:
Die Handschrift sagt es an mehreren Stellen; es kann also kein Irrtum sein.
Hier schlie8t die theoretische Hauptquelle der franzoisischen Praxis an:
Thoinan Arbeaus Orchesographie von 1588. Das Werk ist erst 1588 er-
schienen, gewiB. Aber damals ,war die Basse danse >seit 40 oder 50 Jahren
aufgegeben<<, und der gedaichtnisstarke Verfasser redet nicht von der zweiten,
sondern von der ersten Halfte des 16. Jahrhunderts. So steht die Quelle
dem Quattrocento um ein Halbjahrhundert naiher, als das Datum seiner
Schrift vorgibt.
Die Musik der Basse danse, sagt Arbeau, steht en mesure ternaire: zu Un-
recht hat man das mit Tripeltakt iibersetzt und die Noten danach iiber-
tragen. In Wahrheit handelt es sich um doppeltes Tempus perfectum in
prolatione majori, also 12/s-Takt wie in der Pariser Dominichino-Handschrift.
Die Noten, die Arbeau gibt, lassen keinen Zweifel. Jeder pas umfaBt 1
>Quaternion<< oder 4 mesures zu 3 Minimen - nicht 4 >>Takte<< im modernen
Sinn, auf die dann ein einziger Schritt (welche Zeitlupe!) zu kommen haitte,
sondern
Mit andern Worten:
Arbeaus mesure ternaire ist dasselbe wie Domenichinos Tempus imperfectum
majus, und, da den Tdinzer die Unterteilung der Semibrevis nichts angeht,
praktisch dasselbe wie Arenas Tempus imperfectum minus und Cornazanos
vierschlaigiger Takt. Die Basse danse ist zu allen Zeiten und in allen
Laindern geradtaktig.
Diese Erkenntnis wird auch der Ubertragung der im 16. Jabrhundert ge-
druckten Basses danses zugutekommen. Wenn man den Notenanhang zu
Blumes Schrift durchblittert, mu.i man sehen, daB alien von Attaignant
gebrachten Basses danses eine 4/4- oder 12/8-auftaktige Lisung besser an-
steht als eine volltaktige oder gar dreischliigige, wofern man hier nicht
1) Kinkeldey 263.
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43
He builds to the notion that, no matter the time period or place, the basse danse (like the bassadanza)
was always in an even time—that is, never counted in three but with the possibility of the unit found
on each beat being a perfection (i.e., a compound even time).27
In his review of Sachs’ Eine Weltgeschichte des Tanzes, Otto Gombosi added to the author’s
claim, saying that the main metrical unit of basse danse—the long—could be subdivided either into 2
perfect breves, each worth three imperfect semibreves, or two imperfect breves, each worth two
perfect semibreves (in both cases, the total number of minims is 12):28
He went on to state that the “Pfundnoten” of Br9085 must be read mensurally, their blackening
serves to imperfect what would otherwise be perfect values, and, as the sources (i.e., Cornazano)
state, they double in value. Therefore, the imperfected (blackened) breves of Br9085 become the
imperfect longs of the division shown above.29
“Far-fetched as this theory may appear at first sight,” stated Manfred Bukofzer supporting
Gombosi’s conjecture, “it is nevertheless borne out by the fully ‘realized’ polyphonic version of
Gulielmus’ Spagna” (see fig. 6.4a and surrounding discussion, and compare with figs. 6.1 and 6.2).30
He was referring to a polyphonic setting of the celebrated dance tenor La Spagna (see Ch. 6), in
which each note of the tenor appears as a semibreve in a 2:1 proportion with the added cantus
27 “Die Basse danse ist zu allen Zeiten und in allen Ländern geradtaktig”; Sachs, “Der Rhythmus der Basse danse,” 110. 28 Otto Gombosi, Review of Eine Weltgeschichte des Tanzes by Curt Sachs, Acta Musicologica 7, fasc. 1 (January-March 1935):
23-27 at 25-26. The text states: “Both possibilities of division of the long promoted: both imperfect minor modus, perfect
tempus, minor prolation: … as well as imperfect minor modus, imperfect tempus, major prolation: …” 29 In a subsequent article, Gombosi clearly stated that “the bassadanza proper, the ‘imperial measure,’ consist[ed] of
measures of 2 x !
"
,” and went on to show the metrical relationship among the misure; in “About Dance and Dance
Music,” 299-300. 30 For this and the following quotation: Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic Basse Dance,” 202.
Iudicia de novis libris 25
Sie vermogen Bekanntes von unerwarteter Seite zu beleuchten und die vitalen Kraftquellen
erstarrter Briiuche und Formen aufzuspiiren. Hierbei treten die bisher notwendigerweise
fehlenden Beziehungen zur Tanzmusik auf den Plan. Dal der Betrachtung der Tanzmusik
die Beleuchtung der Probleme von der tiinzerischen Seite her neue Ausblicke offnet, ist wohl
zu erwarten. Gerade an diesem Punkte also, wo wir an der Schwelle der schriftlichen jber-
lieferung stehen, m6chten wir die Wiedergabe des Gedankenganges unterbrechen und auf
Einzelheiten zu sprechen kommen, die den Musikhistoriker in erster Reihe angehen.
Mit Recht wiinscht Sachs die Lesung der Tanzdenkmliler des 14. Jhs. in Grol3takten. Eine
notationsgeschichtlich korrekte Umschrift zeigt zumeist nicht den Rhythmus des Tanzes,
sondern nur die Unterteilung der Tanz-Taktteile. Nun stehen aber einer solchen Umtaktierung
vorldiufig noch nicht fiberwundene Schwierigkeiten im Wege. Die von Sachs konjizierten
drei- und zweischligigen Saltarelli lassen sich auf diese Art nicht durchtaktieren, sie haben,
wie auch die spliten Estampies, eine freiere Periodenbildung, die eine einheitliche Grolitakt-
struktur nicht erkennen lifit. Einfach und klar sind in dieser Beziehung zunhichst nur jene
ilteren zweistimmigen Denkmiiler, deren Gattungsbezeichnung in Anlehnung an die theoretischen
Quellen von Johannes Wolf herriihrt, - dann aber zwei ebenfalls nicht als Tiinze bezeichnete
Stiicke der spaitesten Quelle: >>La Manfredina< und >>Lamento di Tristano<<. Ihre GroTftakt-
struktur ist eindeutig quadratisch, darin unterscheiden sie sich ganz auffallend von allen
Estampies und Saltarellen. Die Saltarelli der spaiteren Zeiten sind immer Nachtdinze. Wenn
sie auch am Ende des 14. Jhs. selbstaindig auftreten, Vortdinze (mit angehaingtem Nachtanz)
sind sie nie. Gerade die beiden genannten Stficke haben aber Nachtfinze, die Sachs als Reste
des >Umgangs< zwischen den pantomimischen Episoden des Saltarello deutet (Rotta = Re-
fractorium = Kehrreim). Zugegeben: die beiden Sditze sind unserem Empfinden nach durchaus
tinzerisch; Saltarelli sind sie aber nicht. Es ist merkwiirdig, daB sie uns viel tanzmiiger
erscheinen, als die ausgesprochenen Tdinze der Zeit. Die Tanzmusik des spditen Mittelalters
wird gerade in rhythmischer Hinsicht noch manche U-berraschung bieten.
Hier haben wir z. B. gleich die Bassedanse des 15.-16. Jhs. Ihre Rhythmik wurde von
Sachs im Jahrgang III, S. 107 ff. dieser Zeitschrift ausfiihrlich behandelt, sein Buch wiederholt
nur die Ergebnisse. Ich halte sie, sofern sie theoretisch sind, zwar ffir unanfechtbar, vermisse
aber die in theoretischen und praktischen Quellen nachweisbare Gleichsetzung der senaria
perfecta und der senaria imperfecta 1). Beide Teilungsmoglichkeiten der Longa wurden gepflegt:
sowohl modus minor imperfectus, tempus perfectum, prolatio minor:
als auch modus minor imperfectus, tempus imperfectum, prolatio maior:
In diesem Sinne ist das Notenbeispiel auf S. 111 des oben angefiihrten Aufsatzes folgender-
maBen umzuschreiben:
usw.
Brcevistakt =- c, - Brevistakt = a
Die schwarzen ,Pfundnotens der Briisseler Bassedanse-Handschrift sind also keine Erinnerungs-
stiitzen fiir eine angenommene frei-rhythmisierende Praxis der Musiker, weil diese nur
U) Ober die im Folgenden behandelten Probleme sprach ich im Miirz 1931 vor der Berliner
Ortsgruppe der Deutschen Musikgesellschaft. Ich hoffe meine Arbeit in der naichsten Zeit
im Druck vorlegen zu k6nnen.
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44
voice, thus doubling to equate a breve. Bukofzer modified Gombosi’s hypothesis that the doubling
from the blackened breves to imperfect longs was universal, maintaining that this “varied according
to the different types of basse dance,” since some surviving polyphonic arrangements give the tenor
in imperfect longs while others, including Gulielmus’ setting of La Spagna, give the tenor in
imperfect breves (or their equivalent), exactly as they appear in Toulouze. He went on to compare
the theoretical writings between Domenico in the Italian tradition and francophone sources.
Domenico explained the bassadanza as moving in major imperfecto (imperfect tempus with major
prolation). The Franco-Burgundian sources assert that the basse danse “is to be played according to the
maier parfait” (perfect tempus with major prolation). Bukofzer reasoned,
This dilemma which has set many pens in motion, can be resolved by a simple consideration
of how the rhythm could be presented on paper in actual practice. One way was to write
semibreves in imperfect time and major prolation with the understanding that they must be
augmented by two so that breves of six minims each result. This is the Italian method of
Cornazano and Gulielmus. The French, on the other hand, give no time signature and write
black breves exclusively. Since the color means imperfection, a time signature is obviously
implied, and this can only be the one for which the theoretical description actually calls,
namely perfect time with major prolation . Under this signature the white breve equals
nine minims, the black breve only six minims—that is to say, exactly the same value as in
Gulielmus’ arrangement. It appears, therefore, that the apparently conflicting statements of
the theoretical sources are not actually contradictory: they represent only two distinct ways
of accounting in theory for what is in actual practice the same rhythm. Had Gulielmus
written out his tenor in , he could have notated it only as a row of black breves exactly like
those in the Toulouze version; conversely, had we only his upper voice we could complete
the composition simply by incorporating the Toulouze version and reading it strictly
mensurally in maieur parfait as it stands, with no change whatsoever.31
Here, however, we have lost the notion of augmentation from the imperfect breves to imperfect
longs, where we started, and there is a slight contradiction from the idea of “different types of basse
dance” stated earlier. Gombosi noted the peculiarities in augmentation:
According to Bukofzer’s explanation the black breves indicate the imperfection within the
tempus perfectum cum prolatione maiori. Why this complication? After all, breves of six minims
31 Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic Basse Dance,” 202-203.
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can be better expressed in the traditional tempus perfectum without blackening and without
making difficulties for ourselves on the imaginary divisions of nine-minim units.32
With respect to mensuration, a compound duple tempus and a triple tempus do not subdivide the
breve in the same way, which is where Gombosi’s statement wears a little thin. Furthermore, he did
not account for the mensuration clearly given in the treatise of the francophone sources. Curiously,
he indeed acknowledged that the blackening did imperfect the breves but only for the purpose of
augmentation:
The Tenor of the Guglielmo composition is notated under tempus imperfectum cum prolatione
maiori, and consequently requires augmentation. Yet a tune in uniform breves is, in the best
case, a saltarello and not a bassadanza. To transform it into a bassadanza requires its values
to be augmented. This is an augmentation either already written out (e.g. Ghiselin, Canti C,
Spinacino, Capirola, Pesaro lute MS) or not even indicated in the sources, with the exception
of the two French ones which, according to my thesis, indicate, by the blackening of the
breves, not so much the augmentation itself as the effect of the augmentation, since the
perfect breves, when doubled in value, become imperfect longs. The blackening indicates the
imperfect values.
To state that the blackening serves its purpose of imperfection is to acknowledge, on some level,
that the breves of Toulouze are indeed in a meter where they would otherwise be perfect—why else
blacken them?
Tracing the full musical history of settings of La Spagna in a seminal study of “Cantus Firmus
Dances” in the forward to his edition of Vincenzo Capirola’s Lute Book (ca. 1517), Gombosi clearly
defined his metrical reading of the different dances.33 He paid special attention to the saltarello, which
he designated in “3/4 = 6/8” (i.e., or ) and “the Bassadanza proper in 2 x (3/4 = 6/8)”
(i.e., ):
34
In the former [i.e., the saltarello], each tone of the cantus firmus fills one perfect Brevemeasure : the unit of step and of musical barring is the Breve. In the Bassadanza proper this
Breve has to be augmented to the double. The unit of step and musical barring is the Long.
32 For this and the following quotation: Otto Gombosi, review of Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Music by Manfred F.
Bukofzer, Journal of the American Musicological Society 4, no. 2 (summer 1951): 139-47 at 144. 33 Otto Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” in Vincenzo Capirola, Lute Book (circa 1517), ed. Otto Gombosi, (1955;
reprint New York: Da Capo Press, 1983), xxxvi-lxiii. For a brief discussion of the updated list of Spagna settings, see Ch.
6, n14. 34 For this and the following quotation: Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” xxxvi, xxxviii.
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Since by augmentation the perfect Breve becomes an imperfect Long (consisting of two
perfect Breves), the notation of the French sources properly shows blackening of the notes.
In Italy, Cornazano, our only source, uses Semibreves instead of Breves as basic values, but
the time signature clearly indicates that the semibreves have to be read as perfect Breves.
For Gombosi, any setting of a dance tenor in which the notes move at the rate of the breve to the
measure is a saltarello, while settings in which the tenor notes appear as imperfect longs—doubled
from the breves of Br9085 or Toulouze—as the main unit of time are bassedanze. He never explains
why augmentation would occur from blackened breves to longs, however. In fact, the inexplicit
nature of his statement led Daniel Heartz—in his masterfully written history of the FrancoBurgundian tradition, “The Basse Dance: Its Evolution ca. 1450-1550”—to infer that Gombosi
meant that the blackening indicated augmentation, even if this is not the case as is made clear from
his other writing.35 Gombosi furthermore equated the semibreves given by Cornazano with the
breves of the francophone sources, stating that the mensuration sign, (see fig. 6.1), implies
augmentation and thus the semibreves should be interpreted as breves. But then they would have to
double again to become the imperfect longs of the “Bassedanse–Bassadanza”—his composite term for
the genre—implying a fourfold augmentation, something not attested to anywhere in the sources.36
Beyond a general confusion of base note values, the meaning of blackening, mensuration
signs, and augmentation, there is a further confusion of terminology. Where Bukofzer had used the
term basse danse, Gombosi referred to the dance as a bassadanza before establishing the compound
term “Bassedanse–Bassadanza.” Additionally, there seems to be a confusion between the basse danse,
bassadanza, and saltarello. Settings by modern scholars and performers of the tunes likewise use the
terms basse danse and bassadanza interchangeably and revert to Bukofzer’s contention that there were
35 Daniel Heartz, “The Basse Dance: Its Evolution circa 1450 to 1550,” in Annales musicologiques : Moyen-âge et renaissance,
vol. 6, ed. N. Bridgman, et al. (Neuilly-sur-Seine: Société de musique d’autrefois, 1958-63): 287-340 at 321. 36 Susan Hoeksema likewise equated the perfect semibreves of the bassedanze in V with the blackened breves of Br9085
and Toulouze, attributing the difference to local modes of notation: “If this [i.e., perfect semibreves] was the normal way
the Italians notated French black breves—and I suspect it was—then it explains Cornazano’s remark that, in the bassa
danza, ‘every note is doubled, and three become six, and six twelve.’” But Hoeksema does not go on to claim a further
doubling of the breves to longs; see Hoeksema, “The Steps and Music of the Italian ballo,” 1:206.
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indeed different types of basse danse, some with the tenors in perfect breves, some with the tenors in
compound imperfect longs (each comprising two perfect breves).37
This mélange of terminology for various rhythmic subdivisions already prompts the
question, are these two terms interchangeable? As explored earlier, choreographies for the two
dances do not resemble one another. Even within the basse danse, the choreographies double in
length from the mid- to the late fifteenth century. Would the music not have accompanied this
change? After all, there exists a clear contrast in basse danse music from the fifteenth to the sixteenth
century where the subdivision is completely different, as are musical settings. To my mind, neither
Bukofzer nor Gombosi is entirely incorrect. Further distinctions in these two traditions must be
made, however, in addition to clarifying the chronology within each, in order for us to imagine, what
if the bassadanza and basse danse had independent choreographic and musical histories?
37 See for example, Lorenz Welker, “‘Alta Capella’: Zur Ensemble praxis der Blasintrumente im 15. Jahrhundert,” Basler
Jahrbuch für historische Musikpraxis 7 (1983): 162-65; Ross W. Duffin, “Ensemble Improvisation in the Fifteenth-Century
Mensural Dance Repertoire,” in Instruments, Ensembles, and Repertory, 1300-1600: Essays in Honour of Keith Polk, ed. Stewart
Carter and Timothy McGee (Turnhout, 2013), 195-233 at 226-27; Adam Knight Gilbert, “Reverse Engineering
Fifteenth-Century Counterpoint: Es solt ein man kein mole farn and Cançon de pifari dco. el Ferrarese,” in Instruments, Ensembles,
and Repertory, 1300-1600: Essays in Honour of Keith Polk, ed. Stewart Carter and Timothy McGee (Turnhout: Brepols, 2013):
173-94 at 185-91. Settings by Crawford Young may be heard on Bassadanze, balli e canzoni ‘a la ferrarese’: italienische
Instrumentalmusik der Frührenaissance, Alta Capella und Citharedi der Schola Cantorum Basiliensis dir. Crawford Young and
Randall Cook (CD, Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, GD 77243, 1984, reissued 1991), and Forse che sí, forse che no: Dance Music
in the Quattrocentro, Ferrara Ensemble dir. Crawford Young (CD, Fonti Musicali, FMD182, 1996); Young and Markus
Jans supervised the contrapuntal work the settings that may be heard on De arte saltandi: Die Tänze des Domenico da Piacenza
(ca. 1450), Basel Domenico Project dir. Véronique Daniels (CD, Terem-Music, EM-CD-001, 2015); And, in a personal
correspondence of November 20, 2021, Piet Strykers shared settings of basses danses and bassedanze with tenors of
different note lengths, some of which may be heard on Dulcis melancolia: Biographie musicale de Marguerite d’Autriche, Capilla
Flamenca dir. Dirk Snellings (CD, Musique en Wallonie, MEW0525, 2006).

48
Chapter 3
From Song to Dance
Courtly Dance in the Early and Mid-Fifteenth Century
3.1. THE ORIGINS AND EARLY HISTORY OF THE BASSE DANSE AND BASSADANZA
And in the meadow we stopped
To listen to their song.
And the young birds
[Who] were in the nest
Began to sing “cheep, cheep,”
With lightsome passages
And with pleasant rising phrases
They tuned their voices;
And, in a few moments, they all
Began to sing,
And then they began
The measure of baxa dança
From a chanson from France
Most pleasing to hear,
“Je l’am, je vulh servir,”
Of most gracious sound;
And then, with great reason,
They made the second measure
In concord all together
That no bird made a mistake.
[And] I marveled
At the birds [who] French
Had learned so well.
-Francesch de la Via’s Procés de la Senyora de Valor contra En Bertran Tudela (ca. 1406)1
In the pastoral scene depicted above, the narrator describes a particular episode in which he
and his entourage happen upon a bird’s nest in a tree by a meadow in the picturesque countryside
near Girona, Catalonia. The parents are teaching their chicks to sing. The spectators hear them tune
and warm up their voices before singing a French song and quickly modulating it. The young birds
created music for dancing by adapting a chanson to the measure of the basse danse/bassadanza before
altering the meter for the after-dance, the “second measure” or altadanza (saltarello).
2 Such vivid
descriptions conjure images, like those presented after a long day of storytelling in Boccaccio’s
Decameron, of informal gatherings at which people began to dance to songs that they themselves were
1 “E sobre’l prat pausar/per (e)scoltar lur so./E’l novelh auzelho/Qu esteron dins lo niu/Comensaren piu piu,/Amb
laugeres passades/E’z amb plasens muntades/Affinaron lur votz;/Ez ab pauch instant totz/Començaren
cantar,/Ladonchs van començar/Lo temps de baxa dança/D una cançó de França/Trop plasén per ausir: “Je l’am, je
vulh servir,”/Ab molt gracious so;/E puys, ab gran raysó,/Feron lo segon temps,/Acordan tug ensemps/Qu ausel no’y
desmantí./Jur vos jamay ausí/So ten ben compassat,/E suy marevelhat/De l auzel qui ffrancès/Havion gent apres.”
Transcribed and translated in Carles Mas i Garcia, “Baixa Dansa in the Kingdom of Catalonia and Aragon in the 15th
Century,” Historical Dance 3, no. 1 (1992): 15-23 at 15. 2 For more on the grouping and sequence of dances in the Iberian tradition, see Ch. 6, pp. 159-60.

49
singing. It is probable that the basse danse and bassadanza began in just such a tradition. Although
there are more pastoral, rustic elements in the examples cited above, both nonetheless involve the
nobility. After all, this dance-type was more dignified in style. It had developed from the danze of the
late Middle Ages, according to Artur Michel, which gave way to the bassadanza of the fifteenth
century, a dance of
staid character, … “earthbound,” meaning that the dance is only paced, not leaped or
skipped, while, nevertheless, an important element of this type of gait is the rise to the toe.
Precisely the alternation of the toe-step, elevating the body, and the flat-step, lowering it
once more, give the bassa danza its continued Gothic contour of movement.3
Control of posture and movement defined this dance—it clearly was not initially meant for just
anyone. And perhaps the music itself also suggests that.
Figure 3.1: Gilet Velut, “Je voel servir plus c’onques,” Ox213, fol. 89r
3 Artur Michel, “The Earliest Dance-Manuals,” Medievalia et humanistica 3 (April 1945): 117-31 at 117.

50
3.1.A. The Close Relationships between Song and Dance
Although the song that the birds adapted to the measure of the baxa dança has “not so far
[been] traced or identified” according to Carles Mas i Garcia, a strong candidate is Gilet Velut’s “Je
voel servir plus c’onques” (Ox213, fol. 89r; see fig. 3.1).
4 An art song, and therefore certainly more
accessible by society’s elite, it stands among others in Ox213, such as Gilles Binchois’ “Tristre plaisir
et douleureuse joye” (fol. 56v) and Pierre Fontaine’s “Sans faire de vous departie” (fols. 86v-87r),
whose tenors were adapted to the basses danses of Br9085 (nos. 31 and 23, respectively) and Toulouze
(“Triste playsir,” no. 6).
Since work on the basse danse sources began with Closson in the early twentieth century,
scholars noted that strong resemblances or exact concordances between certain basse danse titles and
those of the fifteenth-century song repertory. In addition to “Triste plaisir” and “Sans faire de vous
departie,” they pored over manuscripts to find that “(Ma) Maistresse” (Toulouze, no. 3, and Br9085,
no. 18) adopted the tenor of Binchois’ “L’Amy de ma dame est venis” (Tr87, fol. 88r), and that
“Une fois avant que morir” (Br9085, no. 24) borrowed the tenor from the eponymous chanson that
survives in three voices in LoTit, fols. 4v-5r and in two voices in P10660, fols. 47r-v (see fig. 3.2).
The excitement of titular correspondences led to tenuous musical links early on that have
now all been dispelled. The most enticing was perhaps “Avignon” (Br9085, no. 10, and Toulouze,
no. 13) from the anonymous setting of “Sur le pont d’Avignon” (Canti C, fols. 61v-52r) and the
chanson attributed to Claudin de Sermisy, which survives among manuscript leaves appended to a
print of the Second livre contenant 25 chansons nouvelles à quatre parties (Paris: Pierre Attaingnat, 1536)—
4 Tess Knighton identified “Je voel servir plus c’onques” as the song that de la Via likely was citing in “Isabel of Castile
and her Music Books: Franco-Flemish Song in Fifteenth-Century Spain,” in Queen Isabel I of Castile: Power, Patronage,
Persona, ed. Barbara F. Weissberger (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2008): 29-52 at 35. For a complete modern edition
of the song, see Adam Bregman and Adam Knight Gilbert, “Appendix 6: Polyphonic Editions,” in Margaret of Austria’s
basse danse Manuscript, Royal Library of Belgium Ms. 9085: Study, ed. Grantley McDonald (Antwerp: Standaard Uitgeverij,
2022), 329-63 at 337-38.

51
not the nineteenth-century popular children’s song!5 Other examples include “La belle” (Br9085, no.
4, and Toulouze, no. 30) from the anonymous “O rosa bella” in Tr90 (fols. 362v-63r), and “La
portingaloise” (Br9085, no. 22, and Toulouze, no. 41) from Du Fay’s “Portugaler,” which
Hertzmann had already refuted in 1925.6
Most recently, David Fallows identified the tenor of the anonymous two-voice chanson “Se
doulx espoir,” which survives in fragmentary form on a single folio from an otherwise lost
chansonnier, as the model for “Le doulz espoir” (Br9085, no. 26, and “Lespoyr” in Toulouze, no.
24).
7 Despite such a significant discovery, Fallows concluded his article with the following lines,
which simultaneously tout the surety of the chanson–basse danse relationship and curiously divest it of
its importance or merit:
There is very little scope for doubting the direct relationship between the songs and many
basse danses with the same titles. But the basse danse repertory fails to offer information
about the polyphonic songs except in hinting at the further distribution and success of those
songs. It also seems likely that the polyphonic songs tell us almost nothing about the dances
derived from them.8
I disagree with Fallows’ assertion that the verified and accepted chanson–basse danse/bassadanza
pipeline offers no further information about one genre or the other, or their interrelationship. Four
principal factors come to the fore. First, despite the relatively later date of Br9085 and Toulouze, the
5 Paris, Bibliothèque Mazarine, 8˚ 30345 A-3 [Res], fols. 7v-8r. See Otto Kinkeldey, “Dance Tunes of the Fifteenth
Century,” in Instrumental Music: A Conference at Isham Memorial Library, May 4, 1957, edited by David Grattan Hughes
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1959), 3-30 at 28, and Crane, Materials, 70. 6 Hertzmann, “Studien zur Basse Danse,” 406-407 Crane, Materials, 82-83, 87-88. For more on the “instrumental”
character of “Portugaler,” see Lorenz Welker, “Portugaler: Guillaume Du Fay’s Contribution to Instrumental Music?” in
Essays on Renaissance Music in Honour of David Fallows: Bon jour, bon mois et bonne estrenne, ed. Fabrice Fitch and Jacobijn Kiel
(Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2011): 124-36. 7 David Fallows, “More on the basse danse and Polyphony, Aided by the D’Andrea Fragment,” in Klang und Bedeutung:
Diskurse über Musik. Zur Emeritierung von Joseph Willimann, ed. Juliane Brandes et al. (Hildesheim, Zurich, and New York:
Georg Olms Verlag, 2021), 125-40. 8 David Fallows, “More on the basse danse and Polyphony,” 140. It stands to additionally be made clear, however, that the
specific adaptation of a song tenor—as the cantus prius factus—to a dance tenor seems to be one-way in its direction (i.e.,
no pre-existent dance tenors were later adopted as song tenors). This is specifically in response to the small closing
sidenote within Jon Banks’ statement that there is nothing inherently “instrumental” in “the small number of chansons
that are composed over secular cantus firmi, for example Pierre Fontaine’s ‘Sans faire de vous departie’ (based on a basse
danse tenor)….” Jon Banks, The Instrumental Consort Repertory of the Late Fifteenth Century (2006; repr. London and New
York: Routledge, 2017), 88.

52
model songs in question (fig. 3.2A-D) all date from the first half of the fifteenth century. The two
further song examples, “Filles a marier” and “Puis qu’aultrement ne me peut estre/Marchez la
dureau” (figs. 3.2E-F), date from the second half of the century. They do not present a model song
and its derivative dance tenor, but, rather, a song and dance that both adopt the same, popular,
monophonic chanson à refrain.
9 Second, among all of the examples in figure 3.2, the tenor voice alone,
significantly, had been adopted as the structural melodic line for use as a dance melody or as
scaffolding for a new polyphonic setting, whether composed or improvised (more on this below).10
Figure 3.2: Comparison of chanson and related basse danse tenors
A: Binchois, “Tristre plaisir et douleureuse joye” (Ox213, fol. 56v) and “Triste plaisir” (Br9085, no. 31)
9 While “Filles a marier” sets each subsequent phrase of the titular melody as imitative counterpoint in all four parts
(especially the cantus, contra-altus, and tenor), the tune of “Marchez la dureau” appears as a quasi-canon between tenor
and contratenor primus in the context of a combinative chanson, where the canon is framed by more florid cantus and
bassus voices that use decimae (parallel tenths) extensively. For more on the combinative technique, and structure of
“Puis qu’aultrement ne me peut estre/Marchez la dureau,” see Maria Rika Maniates, “Mannerist Composition in FrancoFlemish Poyphony, The Musical Quarterly 52, no. 1 (January 1966): 17-36 at 20-25, and “Combinative Chansons in the
Dijon Chansonnier,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 23, no. 2 (summer 1970): 228-81 at 240, 261. “Marchies la
duriau” also appears, albeit in fragmented form, within another combinative chanson, “Madame de nom / Sur la rive de la
mer” (EscB, fols. 119v-120r), as does one ballo tune, “La fia Guilmin” (Pd, fols. 18v-19r) and “Figlia Guilielmino” (V,
fols. 22r-23r)—“which is a French ballatta,” concedes Domenico (Smith 1:26-27)—that similarly preserves a
monophonic melody mostly intact compared with the tenor (and, at times, contratenor) of the combinative chanson “A
florence / En ma chambre / Helas, la fille Guilhemin” (EscB, fols. 47v-49r); see Maria Rika Maniates, “Combinative
Chansons in the Escorial Chansonnier,” Musica Disciplina 29 (1975): 61-125 at 63-65, 71-72, 102, 105-106, 111-13, and
118-19. 10 This fact makes Hertzmann’s tenuous conjecture that “La franchoise” (Br9085, no. 7) was derived from the cantus of
Magister Egidius’ “Franchois, franchois fut nobles prins et vaylans” (ModA, fol. 11r), based on an already sketchy
melodic relationship, even less credible; Hertzmann, “Studien zur Basse Danse,” 408-409.

53
B: Fontaine, “Sans faire de vous departie,” Ox213, fol. 86v, and Br9085, no. 23
C: Binchois, “L’Amy de ma dame est venis” (Tr87, fol. 88r) and “Maistresse” (Br9085, no. 18)
D: Anon., “Une fois avant que morir,” LoTit, fol. 4v, and Br9085, no. 24

54
E: Anon., “Filles a marier,” Sev, fols. K, and Br9085, no. 17
F: Anon., “Puis qu’aultrement ne me peut estre / Marchez la dureau,” Dij517, fols. 168v-169r,
and “Marchon la dureau,” Br9085, no. 45

55
Third, in accord with the staid nature of the dance, the song tenors all move in steady, deliberate,
grounded motion, composed mainly—if not entirely—of semibreves and breves. (Note that, despite
its more rhythmically active appearance, “Une fois avant que morir” simply subdivides most of its
perfect semibreves into groups of semibreve–minim or three minims with the occasional passing
tone.) This particular melodic characteristic serves as a metatext, depicting the stately, serene
character of the dance. Fourth, an implicit mensuration of imperfect tempus with major prolation
(compound duple) guides the songs.
11 Meter is of utmost importance both to the relationship of a
song to its derived dance and, as we have seen and will continue to be reminded, to this dance genre
in general. As established by Domenico in theory and proven in musical practice, the bassadanza
misura depended on a mensuration of . It is no wonder, then, that all of the model chansons are
governed by the same meter. It also gives further grounds, beyond melodic incongruence, for
dismissing the tenuously linked songs cited above, none of which are in .
Beyond the key features described above, further observations may be made between the
dance tenors and their models. The former do not always copy the exact pitches of the latter, or
rather, they reinterpret specificities in the pitch patterns, but always maintain the overall musical line
and phrase structure.12 These phrases are clearly delineated by cadences that all assume similar
characteristics. Crane noted the generic cadential formulae adopted by the basse danse and bassadanza
tenors (see table 3.1 below).
13 Both are of a four-note structure giving the cadential tenor function,
composed of a falling third or of an ascending and descending second and culminating in a doublebreve “punctuation” on the pitch of the cadential resolution, or the cadence final. Both formulae
appear as written in the song models but, more often than not, are a simplification of the cadences
11 Only “Puis qu’aultrement ne me peut estre/Marchez la dureau,” with its mensuration as imperfect tempus in
diminution ( ), is the exception to this rule, but its meter is certainly governed by the outer voices, to which the
monophonic tenor melody yields.
12 Gilbert compared these and other dance tenors to their related song tenors and derivative settings in “The Music and
Dances,” 40-45. 13 Crane, Materials, 32. See also Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 49-50.
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z

56
found in the models, which tend to use the rhythmic ornament of hemiola (by way of coloration) in
the approach toward the cadential resolution.
Table 3.1: Archetypal cadential formulae of the dance tenors followed by their model song cadences
The cadences highlight two further aspects of the song–dance relationship: note values and
place (locus), or pitch. All semibreves in the songs were rendered as breves in the basses danses of
Br9085 and Toulouze, and breves of the former were doubled to two successive breves in the dance
tenors. This detail will prove integral to the distinction of the basse danse from the bassadanza in the
following chapter. Considering overall range and final of the melodies presented in figure 3.2, we see
that only the dance tenor for 3.2F “Marchon la dureau” occupies the same notated space as its
associated song. The others all present pairs of related song and dance melodies in different places.
“Sans faire de vous departie” (fig. 3.2B) maintains tone 5 (Lydian mode) of the chanson, but it
displaces the overall range and final a fourth lower: from the “regular” octave range (f–f’) and final
(f) to the typical transposed place (c–c’ octave with a c final), removing the flat “key” on b (fa).
B
B
b Source
Basse
danse
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w #w w
∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ z
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
b Source
Basse
danse
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w #w w
∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ z
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
b Source
Basse
danse
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w #w w
∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ z
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
Source b
Basse
danse
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫
( ) ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
W
w w œ œ œ Z
∫ ∫ ∫
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
Source b
Basse
danse
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫
( ) ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
W
w w œ œ œ Z
∫ ∫ ∫
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
b Source
Basse
danse
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w #w w
∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
b Source
Basse
danse
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w #w w
∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ z
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
B
Source
Du pist
mein hort
Basse
danse
w w w œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
˙˙˙˙w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w w œ œ
w ˙ ˙ w W
∫ ∫
∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w w œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
b Source
Basse
danse
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w #w w
∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
%
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
bb
Source
Basse
danse
œ œ œ œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
B
Source
Du pist
mein hort
Basse
danse
w w w œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
˙˙˙˙w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w w œ œ
w ˙ ˙ w W
∫ ∫
∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w w œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
B
Source
Du pist
mein hort
Basse
danse
w w w œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
˙˙˙˙w W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w w œ œ
w ˙ ˙ w W
∫ ∫
∫ ∫
œ œ œ œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
w w w œ
œ œ œ W
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
B
B
Source b
Basse
danse
w w w œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
|
|
œ œ œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫
|
|
w w w œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ( ) ∫
|
|
œ œ œ œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
|
|
œ œ œ ¸
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
|
|
B
B
Source b
Basse
danse
w w w œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
|
|
œ œ œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫
|
|
w w w œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ( ) ∫
|
|
œ œ œ œ œ
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
|
|
œ œ œ ¸
∫ ∫ ∫ ∫
|
|

57
Likewise, the four-voice chanson “Filles a marier” (fig. 3.2E) presents its tune in transposed tone 2,
passing through b-fa with a g final, while the dance tenor sits at the fourth below in regular tone 2,
passing through b-mi with a d final. Such a shift is common enough among song reworkings or
newer adaptations of a tune since it wholly preserves the intervallic disposition (the arrangement of
tones and semitones) particular to the melodic mode.
14 Less common, however, is the
transmutability of tone from durus (“hard,” or “major”) to mollis (“soft,” or “minor”), or vice versa,
that the other dance tenors present compared to their models.
The tenors of both songs by Binchois sit squarely in transposed tone 2 (Hypodorian
mode)—with a range of d–d’ passing through b-fa and a g final. The dance tenors maintain the same
sounding space but remove the flat “key” on b, effectively “transposing” the tune to tone 8/
Hypomixolydian mode, akin to the parallel major key in a tonal (what a misnomer!) world. This
parallelism—peculiar to melodies in “g mode,” such as “L’homme armé” and the many masses that
set it in tones 2 or 8 (or all of the others, for that matter, in exceptional cases, such as Josquin’s Missa
l’homme armé super voces musicales)—illustrates Guglielmo/Ambrosio’s counsel about considering and
respecting whether a dance tune adopts the “key” of b “molle” (i.e., “soft” or flat, with the quality fa)
versus b “quadro” (“square” or natural, with the quality mi):
It should be noted furthermore that in playing [music] there are two chiavi called B molle
[“soft,” or flat] and B quadro, and when the player plays, whoever wishes to dance a
bassadanza or saltarello (or whatever else) well, must know and recognize if B molle or B quadro
is being played, inasmuch as it is of the greatest importance that his steps and gestures
conform and accord with those strains, sweetnesses, semitones, or syncopation[s] that are
played for a particular misura, that is either in B molle or in B quadro, and to understand and
follow them well with body and gesture. Note that the misura of B quadro is far more airy
than that of B molle, but it is somewhat coarser and less sweet. If these things are well
understood and put into practice, they bestow true perfection on the aforesaid art of the
dance and afford those knowledgeable [in it] particular pleasure and contentment.15
14 Adopting a tune in its regular to transposed placement of a tone occurs for it to inhabit a lower or higher sounding
space, respectively (in general). Notable examples of this type of shift over a tune exist in Henricus Isaac’s masses on
popular tunes and art-song tenors. 15 Guglielmo, ed. Sparti, 104-105. For more on parallel durus–mollis tonal shifts, see Richard Hudson, “The Ripresa, the
Ritornello, and the Passacaglia,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 24, no. 3 (1971): 364-94.

58
Beyond the attention to “major” and “minor” tones and the according response of dancers’
movements and gestures, this passage highlights the fascinating idea of the choice that musicians and
dancers seem to have when deciding how to interpret a given dance melody. That the tone of a
dance tune is a performance-practice decision becomes evident in the subsequent chapters on
creating a ballo or bassadanza: the composer “needs a good imagination in order to find the tenor
with its parts well ordered,” deciding whether “to compose it in b molle or in B quadro.”16
Besides a parallel movement from durus to mollis by way of b flat, such a shift can also occur
through a change of place. The basse danse “Une fois avant que morir” displaces the range and final
of the song tenor down a third, from f–f’ to d–d’, establishing a mediant tone-relationship, akin to
relative major and minor keys. This same type of “hard”–“soft” tone-relationship predicated by a
change of place—tone 5 to tone 1, or Lydian to Dorian mode—further exists within the dance
sources. “La franchoise” (Br9085, no. 7) presents a “transposed” tone 5 melody (c final) that returns
later in the manuscript a step higher in tone 1 bearing the title “Venise” (Br9085, no. 53).17 The
blackened breves of these basse danse tenors appear earlier as void semibreves in Hartmann Schedel’s
Liederbuch (mid-1460s) as the first of two “Carmina ytalica. utilia pro coreis” (“Italian songs suitable
for dancing,” fol. 131r) in tone 1 with a d-final, and as the underlying structural tenor for two
polyphonic compositions in Bux—nos. 118-19 (c final) and 212 (f final)—whose titles designate the
tone 5 head motive: “Mi ut re ut e c d c.”18 Also integrated in both Italian and Franco-Burgundian
16 Smith, 1: 137-38. 17 The same relationship further exists between “Flo(u)rentine” (Br9085, no. 38; Toulouze, no. 34) in tone 1 with a dfinal, which presents the same 22 notes twice, totaling 44, and “Le ioyeulx espoyr” (Toulouze, no. 9), which gives once
the 22 notes a step lower in tone 5 with a c final. Similarly, “Beaulte” (Br9085, no. 1; Toulouze, no. 25) and “La
verdelete” (Br9085, no. 41; Toulouze, no. 27) present the exact same melodic material in tone 1 with a d final, and “La
margarite” (Br9085, no. 5; “La marguerite,” Toulouze, no. 47) and “Joieusement” (Br9085, no. 49; Toulouze, no. 43)
bear a strikingly similar melodic shape to the first two but a step lower in tone 5 with a c final; see Crane, Materials, 72,
and Bregman and Gilbert, “Appendix 5: Edition,” 273.
18 Loch and Bux are rich with derivative polyphonic settings of other surviving basse dance tenors: “Je languis” (Br9085,
no. 11, and Toulouze, no. 14) and “Languir en mille destresse” (Br9085, no. 40)/“Langueur en nul soit destresse”
(Toulouze, no. 8) first appear as the tenor of Bux, nos. 135 and 136; the plethora of settings of “Une fois avant que
morir” attest to its apparent popularity—“Tenor Anavois” (Loch, p. 70), “Vil lieber zit uff diser erde” (Bux, nos. 37, 51-
52, 93, 217), and “Annavasanna” (Bux, nos. 89-92); and “La/Ma doulce amour” (Br9085, no. 52, and Toulouze, no. 18)

59
dance traditions, the ballo “Rostiboli gioioso,” or “El gioioso” (Pa, fol. 66r—see fig. 4.7), and the
basse danse mineure “Roti boully ioyeulx” (Br9085, no. 55, and Toulouze, no. 20—see fig. 4.6) present
the same melodic material, even if rearranged (more on this in the following chapter), in “relative”
durus (tone 5, f final) and mollis (tone 1, d final) tones, respectively.
Heartz attributed the difference of place between “El gioioso” (tone 5, f final) and “Roti
boully ioyeulx” (tone 1, d final) to scribal error.
19 Following Ambrosio’s statement and the other
examples presented above, I would rather like to suggest that there was flexibility in whether a tune
sounded as mollis (tones 1 or 2) or durus (tones 5 or 8), that it was indeed a choice. Scribes or
practicing musicians could change the mollis or durus quality of a melody depending on the affect
they wished to convey. While both fixed and relative positions (loci) of notes, and the intervallic
relationship of one note to the next in a given melody, were indeed essential to fifteenth-century
musicians’ understanding and interpretation of the music they performed, the examples above
demonstrate that a transfer of place, or a transmutability of tone, for any given tune might not have
been as shocking to the period ear as we may now imagine.20
forms the tenor of the first half of “Modocomo Bystu die rechte” (Bux, nos. 79-80) and “Modocomor” (Bux, nos. 81-
82), without the after-section marked “Repeticio” (or, residuum)—see Crane, Materials, 84. For more on the settings of
basse danse and bassadanza tunes from the dance manuals for keyboard instruments, see Frederick Crane, “The Derivation
of Some Fifteenth-Century Basse-Danse Tunes,” Acta Musicologica 37, fasc. 3/4 (July-December 1965): 179-88; and
Eileen Southern, “Some Keyboard Basse Dances of the Fifteenth Century,” Acta Musicologia 35, fasc. 2/3 (AprilSeptember 1963): 114-24, and “Basse-Danse Music in Some German Manuscripts of the Fifteenth Century,” in Aspects of
Medieval and Renaissance Music: A Birthday Offering to Gustave Reese, ed. Jan LaRue (1966, reprint New York: Pendragon
Press, 1978): 738-55; and Daniel Heartz, “Hoftanz and Basse Dance,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 19, no. 1
(Spring 1966): 13-36 at 35-36. Finally, Marrocco drew parallels between “Collinetto” (V, fols. 33r-v; see fig. 1.4) and
“Biance Flour” (Faenza, fols. 56-57r); see W. Thomas Marrocco, “The Derivation of Another Bassadanza,” Acta
Musicologica 51, fasc. 1 (January-June, 1979): 137-39. 19 Daniel Heartz, “A Fifteenth-Century Ballo: Rôti Bouilli Joyeux,” in Aspects of Medieval and Renaissance Music: A Birthday
Offering to Gustave Reese, ed. Jan LaRue (New York: Pendragon Press, 1978), 359-75 at 365, 369-70. 20 Johannes Ockeghem’s Missa cuiusvis toni beautifully illustrates this concept: the basic intervallic structures (second,
third, fourth, fifth, etc.) form the melodic and contrapuntal foundation of the mass, independent of tone, which may be
chosen at will. The basic melodic silhouette of each voice is more important than the finite detail of the melodic mode.
And yet—since changes would necessarily occur in the quality of the intervallic structures (major or minor; perfect,
augmented, or diminished) from tone to tone due to a shift in the placement of the semitones mi–fa with respect to the
final—the choice of tone in which to interpret the mass would produce performances that sound drastically different
from one tone to another.

60
3.1.A.i. Interrelationships among the Dance Tenors
Despite the happy concordances between the few song tenors and their derivative basse danse
tunes, the majority of surviving music for basses danses and bassedanze has hitherto untraceable musical
origins. Titles such as “Engoulesme,” “Alenchon,” and “La danse de Ravestain” (Br9085, nos. 3, 21,
and 30, respectively) can be linked to important places and, more specifically, the nobility who
oversaw those places within the reaches of the Burgundian court.21 Other titles may relate to specific
musicians or groups of musicians, such as “La verdelete” (Br9085, no. 41)—which may refer to
Jehan Boisard or Voisard, a.k.a. “Verdelet” (fl. 1414-28), dubbed the “roy des ménestrels” at the French
court in 142022—or the “Cançon de pifari dicto ‘el Ferrarese’” (V, fols. 32v-33r), where “piffari”
refers to the premier court ensemble for providing dance music. Of the titles in mentioned above, it
may be enticing to speculate that there is a direct link between the music and the person(s) or place
named in the title. As Crane wistfully mused, “It is natural to believe that these tunes originated in
the places named, were popular there, or were particularly associated with minstrels from those
places. None of these hypotheses can be given much supporting evidence.”23
Although the majority of the surviving dance tenors have not been linked to chansons,
similarities in musical motifs and phrases both among the tenors and between them and the song
repertory were first noted by Raymond Meylan in the 1960s.24 Bregman and Gilbert have further
noted the shared motivic material and musical vocabulary among the tenors, both traceable to song
and unique—as far as we currently know—to the world of dance.25 Perhaps the best case in point is
21 See Crane, Frederick Crane, “The Derivation of Some Fifteenth-Century Basse-Danse Tunes,” Acta Musicologica 37,
fasc. 3/4 (July-December 1965): 179-88 at 179-80. 22 Crane, Materials, 89. 23 Crane, “The Derivation of Some Fifteenth-Century Basse-Danse Tunes,” 179. 24 Raymond Meylan, L’énigme de la musique des basses danses du quinzième siècle (Bern and Stuttgart: Édition Paul Haupt,
1968). Meylan used a numerical system of intervallic comparison that was later adopted by Norbert Böker-Heil, Harald
Heckmann, and Ilse Kindermann in Das Tenorlied: Mehrstimmige Lieder in deutschen Quellen 1450-1580, 3 Vols. (Kassel:
Bärenreiter, 1979-86) to categorize head motives of Germanic Tenorlied melodies. 25 Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 49-51.

61
“Sans faire de vous departie” (fig. 3.1B). As the tenor that most closely adheres to its model, it
adopts a musical vocabulary that is wholly integral to the song repertory. But its final phrase (the last
eight notes: sol–mi–ut–fa–mi–re–ut–ut) veers markedly from that of the song (the final seven notes:
fa/–fa–mi–fa–la–sol–fa). This “unrelated” final phrase—which outlines the tone 5 “Credo” intonation
but is otherwise not common to the song repertory—is not by chance, however, for the same pitch
pattern concludes both “Le petit Rouen” (Br9085, no. 16, and Toulouze, no. 1) and “Vaten mon
amoureux desir” (Br9085, no. 48), as well as “Stüblein” (which sets a Marian text, “Virginalis flos
vernalis”) of the Lochamer Liederbuch (Loch, p. 45), a monophonic tune with two derivatives in
the basse danse repertory: “Je languis” (Br9085, no. 11, and Toulouze, no. 14) and “Languir en mille
destresse” (Br9085, no. 40)/“Langueur en nul soit destresse” (Toulouze, no. 8).26 Thus, having
compared motives common to the song and dance repertory and motives more distinctive to the
basse danse, Bregman and Gilbert concluded,
While the melodic vocabulary of the basses danses resembles that of the contemporary song
repertory, its derivation or application is inconsistent, such that certain motives, like sol–mi–
ut–fa–mi–re–ut–ut, assume a more prominent role in the basse danse repertory. Whether
integral to song and dance music or unique to the basse danse, players could use the melodic
vocabulary to memorize the dance tunes, helping them to differentiate one tune from
another.27
Comparing the traceable dance tenors to their identified models, we learn what most likely
constituted a song tenor that could easily become a structural dance tenor, and the types of song
tenors that were not used as dance tenors, based on meter and/or melodic floridity. The comparison
of note values also indicates that a change in overall length had taken place between the chansons à
danser from the first half of the century and its final decades. Such information can help us identify
26 Note that neither basse danse tenor proceeds to the end of the tune as it appears in Loch, and they therefore do not end
with the phrase in question. The title “Je languis” with its first two phrases appears scrawled in modified stroke notation
in Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana MS lat. 3014 (fol. 109r), a manuscript that otherwise contains no music. 27 Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 51.

62
other potential dance-song models, such as “Je voel servir plus c’onques,” and understand how to
adapt a song tenor as a dance melody.
3.2. THE TRANSFORMATION OF SONG TO DANCE: A CASE STUDY
Deconstructing the transformation of a tenor from its song form to a crystalized dance form
can tell us about the steps necessary for this process to take place. In the previous section, we saw
the most appropriate types of song tenor—based on meter and prosody—that would be used for a
bassadanza or basse danse. One further example among these is “Je sui povere de leesse.” It appears in
Br9085 as an isometric tenor (no. 46) in tone 5 with a c final (see fig. 3.3A). Its earliest surviving
form in Namur (fol. 200v) bears the nearly identical title “Je suy si povre de liesce” and is notated in
modified black stroke notation—with void coloration in cadential passages, suggesting its origin as a
song tenor—one step higher in tone 1 with a d-final (see fig. 3.3B).28 As with the other examples
given above (fig. 3.2), what had originally been semibreves were “translated” into breves by the time
of Br9085. A comparison of the cadential passages that align (Br9085 notes 7-10 with Namur mm.
4-5; notes 13-16 with mm. 8-9; notes 19-22 with mm. 12-13; notes 32-34 with mm. 20-21; notes 39-
42 with mm. 24-25), however, shows that only the first and last of “Je suy si povre de liesce” use the
rhythmic ornament of hemiola. Otherwise, they, too, use the simplified “basse danse” cadential
formula. The same is not true of the third surviving version of this tenor.
Also set in tone 1 with a d-final, “Du pist mein hort” (Tr87, fol. 109r) uses a form of the
tenor that is strikingly more ornate and fluid than “Je suy si povre de liesce” (see fig. 3.3C).29 Its
cadences alone (mm. 4-5, 8-9, 12-13, 16-17, 20-21, 22-23, 24-25) bespeak its varied use of rhythm
28 Ernest Montellier, “Quatorze chansons du XVe siècle extraites des Archives namuroises,” in Commission de la vieille
chanson populaire: Annuaire (Antwerp: Drukkerij Holthof, 1939): 153-211 at 153-59, 170-71, 180-81. 29 For a modern edition, see Bregman and Gilbert, “Appendix 6,” 339-40. The same composition survives as a motet
contrafact, “Qui latuit in virgine,” with a highly questionable attribution to Guillaume Du Fay in MuEm, fol. 1r. For
more on the dubious attribution to Du Fay, see David Fallows, Dufay (London: Dent, 1982), 130, and Lorenz Welker,

63
Figure 3.3: Comparison of “three-of-a-kind” tenors
A. “Je sui povere de leesse” (Br9085, no. 46)
Bracketed notes 30-38 have been transposed up a third from the original to correspond to the earlier versions.
B. “Je suy si povre de liesce” (Namur, fol. 200v)
C. “Du pist mein hort” (Tr87, fol. 109r)
and suave character that distinguish it as the type of tenor that one might typically expect to see
within a chanson from ca. 1420-30. And its mensuration of satisfies one of the prerequisites for it
to be adaptable to the basse danse or bassadanza, especially when we consider the other two voices,
trebulus and contratenor. This chanson tenor does not survive in the context of a song: its
accompanying voices are highly ornate and rife with harmonic dissonances—between them and
“Dufay Songs in German Manuscripts,” in Music in the German Renaissance: Sources, Styles and Contexts, ed. John Kmetz
(Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1994): 3-26 at 8-11.
? ç
œ œ [ ] œ œ œ œ ˙˙˙
5
œœ
œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ œ œ
10
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ
?
œ œ
15
œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ
œ œ
20
œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙
25
œ
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z

64
Figure 3.4: “Du pist mein hort” (Tr87, fol. 109r)

65
even, at times, against the tenor—that have earned the composition a reputation as being
improvisatory in origin (see fig. 3.4).30 They float in perfect tempus “per diminutionem,” or , over the
tenor’s “ut iatz” (i.e., “ut jacet,” or “as it lies”). As Cornazano described, the duple metrical
proportion, from the tune in to any added voices in , was intrinsic to the
bassadanza—and to the basse danse—and was also common practice, especially
if a sign is placed in the tenor distinct from the others, as for example if [or] [is placed]
in the tenor and this [sign] [is placed] in the other [voices], the minim of the tenor is
worth as much as the semibreve of the other [voices], since it is worth an entire division; and
if this [sign] 2 [equivalent to ] is placed in the other [voices], it is [worth] as much as the
breve,
as Bartolomeo Ramos de Pareja clearly articulated in his treatise on general practical music, Musica
practica (Bologna, 1482).
31
Preserving the tenor in its original form, or meter at the very least, somehow links it more
closely to the original song and maintains the relationship between song and dance. It may also have
been a wink to the initiated who had an intimate familiarity with this song–dance bond. The “larger”
mensuration of the newly composed or improvised voices accommodates and promotes quicker
note values and greater virtuosity, as does the doubling of tenor note values by the time the tune
resurfaces at the end of the century in Br9085. Seeing the different steps in this transformational
process of a song tenor becoming a dance tenor serves to guide us in the process of adapting other
30 For more on the improvisatory nature of the work, see Ch. 6, p. 123. 31 Luanne Eris Fose, “The Musica practica of Bartolomeo Ramos de Pareia: A Critical Translation and Commentary”
(PhD diss., University of North Texas, 1992), 386. Ramos precedes the above quotation with a comment that gives
special credence to florid counterpoint: “sometimes on account of the excessive diminution of a song, the singers place
the measurement, which should have been observed on the breve, onto the semibreve, and if [the measurement] should
have been held on the semibreve, they pass that onto the minim in such a way which they all hold to now for the greater
part; and in composition they write according to this sign or this [sign] , because the entire division of the
measurement is contained in the minim.” For a detailed discussion of mensural relationships and diminution, especially
between and , see Ruth I. DeFord, “On diminution and Proportion in Fifteenth-Century Music Theory,” Journal of
the American Musicological Society 58, no. 1 (spring 2005): 1-67, esp. 12-13, and Tactus, Mensuration, and Rhythm in Renaissance
Music (Cambridge, 2015), 121-25.
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z

66
songs to a dance form, just as the young birds did in the fanciful anecdote given at the beginning of
this chapter.
As the tenor of “Du pist mein hort” evinces, we must imagine that the song tenor of “Je
voel servir plus c’onques” would mostly have been preserved in its transition to a structural dance
melody at this earlier juncture in the life of the basse danse and bassadanza. Figure 3.5 gives an edition
of the first two phrases of the chanson (A) followed by those same two phrases reimagined in the
context of dance music (B). In the latter, a conjectural setting, the tenor has been wholly preserved.
Although the main harmonic points of arrival from the song are respected, for the most part, the
two new upper voices scarcely resemble those of the original song. Now disposing of twice as much
space to weave contrapuntal lines over the tenor, the cantus bustles along in near-perpetual motion
through an ebb and flow of waves that build melodic and rhythmic tension towards cadences then
Figure 3.5: “Je voel servir,” phrases 1 and 2
A: Chanson
(dashed brackets indicate coloration)
B: Dance Reworking
B
B
B
ç
ç
ç
Contratenor
Tenor
› w
›
›
˙ Ó ˙ ˙ w
w w
›
˙ ˙ ˙ w ˙
I
w ˙ ˙ w
I
w w
w Ó Ó ˙
Je
›
›
w w w
voel ser
w w
w w ˙
w w w
vir plus
w w
i
w w
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ w
I
c'on ques
w w
w w
w Ó Ó
mais
›
›
- -
B
B
B
O
O
ç
Contratenor
Tenor
w. ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙ w ˙
›. w w. ˙
›
˙ w ˙ ˙ œ œ ˙
i
œ œ
i
˙ w ˙
w w. ˙ w. ˙ ˙ ˙
›
˙ w ˙ ˙ œ
I
œ ˙
I
˙ ˙ ˙.
I
œ ˙
w ˙ œ œ w. ˙ ˙
I
˙ ˙.
I
œ
I
w w
w ∑ w ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
i
›
˙ w ˙ bw w ›
›
B
B
B
Ct
T
5
˙ w
i œ œ
i
˙ œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙. œ
w. w. ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙. œ
w w ˙
i
˙ w œ œ ˙ ˙ ˙ w w ˙
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ w w ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ
w w
w. ˙ ˙ œ
I
œ ˙
I
˙ ˙ ˙.
I
œ ˙
w ˙ œ œ w. ˙ ˙
I
˙ ˙.
I
œ
I
w w
w
›
›

67
briefly fall away. The contratenor dances around the tenor, at times in a jagged flux similar to the
cantus, at others making (occasionally awkward) leaps, alternating between altus or bassus roles with
respect to the tenor. As a result, while the pulse of the song would be felt as a subdivision of the
breve into two beats—on the first minim of each perfect semibreve (123 456)—the abundance of
notes in the added voices of the dance version, as in “Du pist mein hort,” means that the pulse
would necessarily slow. One could continue beating the tenor’s perfect semibreves at this slow rate,
but, given their breadth in this new context, a more likely and helpful procedure would be to feel the
pulse on the tenor’s minims or the long–short, long–short lilt of imperfect semibreve and minim
within each breve (123 456).
Working in the other direction, figure 3.6 offers an image of what the opening phrase of the
original, three-voice song, “Je suy si povre de liesce,” might have been.32 The cantus has reverted to
the suave nonchalance that is the melodic lilt of the early fifteenth-century chanson, while the
contratenor adopts its typical role of filling harmonic voids, at times leaping over consonances above
the tenor, at others moving with or against its slower rhythmic motion.
Figure 3.6: Three-voice version of “Je suy si povre de liesce,” opening phrase (my conjecture)
(dashed brackets indicate hemiola)
This exercise intends to show the transformation of a song to a dance, and vice versa, with the goal
of helping us to identify songs whose tenors could be used in the bailiwick of the basse danse and
32 Adam Gilbert conjectured another possible version of the first phrase of the original three-voice song from which
“Du pist mein hort” was derived based on Johannes Cesaris’ rondeau Mon seul vouloir in “The Music and Dances,” 42-43.
He noted that the text likely began with the anacrusis that starts the second musical phrase, as is the case with “Je voel
servir” (see fig. 3.1) and all of the other basse danse tenor song models.
B
B
B
b
b
ç
ç
ç
Contra
Tenor
› ˙ ˙
Je suy si
›
›
w ˙ ˙ w
po vre de li w ˙ ˙ w
›
˙ ˙ w ˙ ˙
es
› w
w w
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ w
w w
w w w
5
›
ce
Ó Ó ˙ w
›
- - - - - - - - - -
I

68
bassadanza at this early stage in the genre’s existence, and how this transformation might look in both
directions. What remains for us to consider is the extant choreographies during this period.
3.3. EARLY CHOREOGRAPHIES
3.3.A. Bassedanze
The earliest choreographies only appear two or three decades after the early dance songs
presented above. As we have seen in Chapter 1, for the bassadanza, these choreographies survive in
the dance manuals composed by Domenico, Cornazano, and Guglielmo/Ambrosio. Their prose
descriptions detail the number and gender of dancers, each step to be taken and by whom (when the
dancers must execute different actions), the number of each step-type, which foot to lead with, and
often directional indications, such as turning around or moving left, right, or backwards.
33
Occasionally, a few tempi of another dance-type, such as the saltarello, will be called for, meaning one
must execute the typical step for the requested dance (for the saltarello, this is a doppio with a little
hop; see chapter 1.1.A.ii.), but it will be stretched out of its misura since it must be slowed to fit the
meter and pulse of the bassadanza. Although not always possible to ascertain with complete
assurance, the number of step-units (and, thus, tempi) for all the bassedanze in the core sources hovers
between 18 and 40.
Domenico’s bassadanza “Mignotta ala fila”—for as many couples as will—exemplifies all of
the details cited above provided by the Italian prose choreographies across its 22 step-units. It
survives in his own manuscript (Pd, fols. 26v-27r) as follows:
Mignotta (vecchia) [insert] is a bassadanza requiring a column of unlimited
dancers. In the beginning there are two continentie beginning with the left,
then two sempi and two doppi beginning with the left foot and ending
with the right. Next, there are two continentie beginning with the
33 Because the bassedanze for three, four, or five at times specify steps for one dancer or another, it remains unclear if
different dancers’ steps should happen sequentially or simultaneously. Therefore, those dances will not be considered
here.

69
left foot, then two doppi beginning with the left foot, then two
continentie beginning with the left foot. Then, there is a
ripresa on the left foot to the side and two sempi beginning
with the right foot. They return. Then there is a doppio on the right foot
and they return, with a mezavolta on the right side with
two riprese—one on the left and one on the right. Then they perform two
continentie beginning with the left foot and a doppio forward with the
left foot and a sempio on the right foot in the vuodo. There is
a doppio forward on the left foot, a sempio with the right foot,
a posada34 with the left foot near the right, and then a
doppio on the left foot. There is a posada on the right foot,
a posada on the left, two continentie beginning with the
left foot, then a riverentia on the left foot. The end.35
A slightly different choreography (but of the same length) attributed to “Messer Dominico” appears
in both Guglielmo’s and Ambrosio’s treatises (Pg, fols. 24v-25r, and Pa, fols. 28v-29r):
36
First do two continenze [beginning] upon the left foot; and then do two sempii and two doppii
beginning with the left foot, and two continenze [beginning] upon the left foot; and then do
two doppii beginning with the left foot, and two continenze [beginning] upon the left foot, and
a ripresa upon the left; and then do a doppio and a sempio and a doppio going back beginning
with the right [foot]; and then make a meza volta upon the right foot with two riprese, one on
the left [foot] and the other on the right; and two continenze [beginning] on the left foot. And
then do two tempi of saltarello beginning with the left foot; and do a doppio as well beginning
with the left foot; and then do a ripresa upon the right foot; and then do two doppii upon one
[and the same] foot beginning with the left foot; and a riverenza upon the left foot.37
The tablature comparison below helps show where these choreographies align and diverge. The end
of each tempo has been marked with “|”; the same literal abbreviations as used for the basse danse
appear below, but additionally, “c” denotes “continentia” and “mv” denotes mezavolta):
Pd: cc|ss|d|d|cc|d|d|cc|r|ss|d|mv r r c|c d s|d|s posada|d|posada posada|cc|R|
Pg/Pa: cc|ss|d|d|cc|d|d|cc|r|d|s d mv|r|r|cc|2 tempi saltarello|d|r|d|d|R|
What becomes immediately apparent when counting through the step sequences for this dance is
that—contrary to the basses danses of Br9085 and Toulouze where one step-unit aligns with each
34 The posada, although not described in the treatise, seems to be the term that designates a momentary still pose that
embodies Domenico’s concept of fantasmata (see chapter 1.1.A.i. above) and occupies one half tempo; see Brainard, The
Art of Courtly Dancing, 2: 52-53. 35 Transcribed and translated in Smith, 1:64-65. 36 For a full comparison of the choreographies across all of the surviving Italian manuscripts, see Smith, 2:215-18. 37 Transcribed and translated in Guglielmo Ebreo, ed. Sparti, 130-31.

70
breve—metrical shifts can, and often do, occur. This means that a step that occupies one-half
tempo—such as a sempio, continentia, or a mezavolta—may fall on the downbeat (pieno) followed by a
step that endures a full tempo creating a sort of syncopation with the step against the musical meter.
For example, in the Pd sequences “mv r r c” (which totals three tempi) and “c d s” (which totals
two), both riprese and the doppio fall across the tempo—from the middle of one breve, to the middle of
the next.
To see this against music, the opening of the ballo “Prexonera”/“Prigioniera” is exemplary. It
begins with three sections of bassadanza, first of four and a half tempi, then of two and a half tempi,
and finally of two tempi:
In the beginning while holding hands, they perform to four and a half tempi of bassadanza:
two continentie beginning on the left foot, three sempi, a doppio, and a riverentia on the left foot.
This part is performed twice by both dancers. The woman stops.
Now note that the man leaves the woman, performing two and a half tempi of bassadanza:
two sempi beginning with the left foot and two doppi
leading with the same foot. Then the woman responds with the same, except that she
departs with the right foot and performs the said sempi and said doppi on the said foot. She
ends near the man. Immediately the man performs a mezavolta on the right side in the vuodo.
Then to two tempi of bassadanza, he passes in front of the woman and she, at the same time,
passes behind him using two sempi beginning on the left foot and a riverentia with the same
foot. ….38
Figure 3.7 gives a comparison of the music as it appears in Pd, Pg, and Pa for the excerpted
choreography given above.39 Pd gives the music with the “proper” mensuration ; tick marks (and
repeat signs) separate the tempi (breves).40 Pg gives precisely the same music but with an erroneous
mensuration of , which would only yield three tempi of bassadanza for the first section, for
example. Pa has transposed the music to the fourth below and doubled the note values,
38 Transcribed and translated in Smith, 1:40-41. 39 The comparison of these three versions of the opening section of “Prexonera” is also made in Mauro Lo Monaco and
Sergio Vinciguerra, “Transitions between Musical Measures in Fifteenth-Century Italian Dances,” Early Music 43, no. 3
(2015): 431-48 at 434. Cornazano does not provide music or a choreography for this dance nor for “the infinite number
of other balli and bassedanze [that] are either too old or too well known,” naming “Presoniera” in a short list of examples
(Smith, 1:103).
40 The dots of division properly indicate a separation of one perfection and beat from the next.
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z

71
Figure 3.7: Comparison of the opening section of bassadanza in the ballo “Prexonara”/“Prigioniera”
The same abbreviations are used as for the basse danse; additionally, “c”=continentia and “mv”=mezavolta
realizing the doubling effect intrinsic to the note values of the bassadanza misura. Its mensuration of
perfect tempus almost reflects this, although it should be in diminution ( ) so that two
perfections form one whole tempo, thus retaining the compound duple feel. Literal abbreviations for
the steps are underlaid to where they would fall metrically according to the music of Pd. In the first
section, five subsequent steps that each last one-half tempo are followed by two steps that last one
tempo each and, thus, must fall across the time. The second section of two-and-a-half tempi has an
extra rest to complete the final tempo and to accommodate the three full step-units prescribed, plus
the gentleman’s mezavolta that occurs in the final vuodo the second time around.
These choreographies demonstrate the relative freedom within the step-sequences and in the
relationship of the steps to the music in the bassadanza. Compared to the basses danses at this stage,
they give us many details about the shape and flow of the dance and are useful in informing our
understanding of the French dances.
3.3.B. Basses danses
As we have seen, the earliest surviving basses danses are the first four of the Nancy
choreographies (see fig. 1.6). These succinct step sequences contain 21 step-units at most that
coalesce into proto-mesures, which assume a more definite form later in the century. But the lack of
accompanying music, and titles that do not hint at a possible repertoire or song that could animate
B
B
B
b
b
b
ç .
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Domenico
Pd, fol. 14v
Guglielmo
Pg, fol. 46r
Ambrosio
Pa, fol. 62v
w w
c c
w w
› ›
|
ø
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them prompted Wilson to suggest strongly in the mid-1990s, “It would be particularly welcome if
musicologists could identify contemporary music to which any of these dances could be performed
in reconstruction.”41 As repertoire from roughly the same generation, the most likely musical
candidates to fulfill Wilson’s request would be chansons of the type explored earlier in the chapter.
(Note that the examples below are purely conjectural, however, and that none of the choreographies
was necessarily conceived of with any of the proposed song tenors in mind.)
Although no key accompanies these dances to explain how the steps would fit to music, we
can extrapolate from contemporaneous bassedanze and the later basses danses that one step-unit
equates one tempus: a breve’s worth of time in . Let us take the “basse dance de la royne de
cessile” as an example. Its choreography reads as follows:
3 s 4 d 1 sault auaunt. 1 d a senestre 3 s a dest[r]e
3 r [1 conge] 3 s 1 d 3 s recules. 3 r 1 conge42
Each pas double and reprise, the congé and the sault occupy one tempus, but in order to choose a song
with the proper number of breves, we must address one question raised by Wilson with respect to
the execution of the steps:43 whether the groups of three pas simples form one step-unit (triplet); or
whether two pas simples continue to form a step-unit where the third offsets the following stepunit(s) by one beat until we return to an uneven group (see fig. 3.8), as we saw in the contemporary
bassadanza “Mignotta” and ballo “Prexonera” above. If we interpret the groups of three pas simples as
one step-unit each, the entire choreography comprises 19 step-units. Looking for a tenor that
behaves like those of the model songs presented above, Binchois’ rondeau “Adieu m’amour et ma
maistresse” (Ox213, fol. 86v) fits perfectly (fig. 3.9A). Retaining two pas simples per step-unit extends
41 Wilson, “A Further Look,” 27.
42 Wilson suggests adding the congé in brackets to close the first proto-mesure; see The Basse Dance Handbook, 13. 43 Wilson, “A Further Look,” 25-26. Wilson also expounded on the difficulty of defining the sault as a hop or a leap, and
whether it would occur as a transition (i.e., lasting a fraction of a tempus) from one step to the next or as an independent
step; “A Further Look,” 27, and The Basse Dance Handbook, 14-15. Here, I have opted for the latter option, but the
former would require a tenor of 18 breves.
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Figure 3.8: Metrical comparison of groups of three pas simples
Above: “triplets” over two semibreves
Below: one per semibreve
the choreography to a total of 21 step-units, which fit the 21 breves of the tenor of Binchois’ “L’amy
de ma dame est venis” (fig. 3.9B). What is compelling about the latter version is the alignment of the
two congie (branle) steps, which cap the choreographic phrases, with the formal markers of the song:
the medial and final cadences. (This does not necessarily sway the argument, however, since one
peculiar attribute of the later basses danses is the incongruence of musical and choreographic phrase
endings.)
Figure 3.9: The choreography of the “basse dance de la royne de cessile”
A: Underlaid to the tenor of Binchois’ “Adieu m’amour et ma maistresse,” groups of three pas simples
B: Underlaid to the tenor of Binchois’ “L’amy de ma dame est venis,” groups of two pas simples
The choreography of the “basse dance de bourbon” reads:
3 s 2 d. 2 d 1 sault 1 conge 3 s a destre
une leuee 3 s 1 d 3 s recules. 3 r 2 conges44
44 I treat the leuee as its own step-unit, but Wilson suggests that it could either be a lifting of one foot held suspended in
the space that lasts the time of a pas simple (i.e., one-half or one-third tempus) but without the forward motion, or a simple
rising of the body as an ornament that transitions from one step to the next, akin to the Italian movimento; see “A Further
Look,” 27, and The Basse Dance Handbook, 14.
basse dance de la royne de cessile
s s s d d d d sault d s s s
w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w
w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w w
s s s d d d d sault d s s s

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In this case, groups of three pas simples per step-unit yields a total of 17, the precise number of breves
in the tenor of the anonymous rondeau “Se ce n’estoit la tres doulce pensee” (Q15, fol. 10r; fig.
3.10A). Limiting the step-units to two pas simples extends the choreography to a total of 19, which
once again accord with the breves of “Adieu m’amour et ma maistresse” (fig. 3.10B).
Figure 3.10: The choreography of the “basse dance de bourbon”
A: Underlaid to the tenor of “Se ce n’estoit la tres doulce pensée,” groups of three pas simples
B: Underlaid to the tenor of Binchois’ “Adieu m’amour et ma maistresse,” groups of two pas simples
The basse danse and bassadanza have their musical origins in early fifteenth-century chansons.
These genres share a melodic vocabulary that they use in different ways, but this musical crossover is
mutually informative for imagining original songs based on certain dance melodies and seeking out
new songs that could yield convincing dance tenors. We can imagine society’s elite in courtly and
pastoral scenes singing and dancing, then habile instrumentalists improvising new voices over the
same steady, structural chanson tenors in a compound duple meter to which the dancers enacted their
steps. Italian dance masters composed elaborate prose choreographies for their patrons, while
concise step patterns sufficed at the Franco-Burgundian courts. This economy of movement, as well
as the close ties of song to dance, were challenged in the following chapter of the life of the genre,
especially in the case of the basse danse, the performance of which had sharply veered away from that
of the bassadanza by the end of the century.

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Chapter 4
Bassadanza or “bassadança francese”?
Regional Distinctions in the Italian and Franco-Burgundian Traditions to 1500
Miniature, Brussels, Koninklijke Bibliotheek/Bibliothèque royale, MS 10984-55, fol. 44r
I ask you here as case,
on the subject of pacts:
A comrade, a dandy,
smart, sharp, and favorable,
an adept man, a fellow
who merits joining in the dance,
however he knows to dance but
one: Filles a marier.
Before he would go exert himself
To lead a lady [to dance] at his pleasure,
He goes to beg of the tabourin
to play for him only his dance,
The one he knows. Then advances
and enters the dance floor,
apart from the throng.
And the tabourin begins
to sound, and plays Ma Maistresse,
against his word and promise.
The other [fellow] becomes agitated and
flustered,
And, indeed, when the dance stops
He is still [stepping] a pas double.
Lord knows if he is daydreaming mindlessly,
and finds
The poor dancer was excusing himself:
Good heavens! He had no double,
For which each [spectator] was mocking him.
-Guillaume Coquillart, “De pactis,” S’ensuyvent les droitz nouveaulx (ca. 1480)
1
1 “Je vous demande icy ung cas, en matiere de paction : Ung appliquant, ung gorgias, frisque, bien empoint et mignon,
ung abille homme, ung compaignon qui se veult mesler de dancer ; Or ne scait-il dances, sinon une : filles a marier. Devant
quil se voise ingerer a mener Dame à sa plaisance, Il va le tabourin prier Quil ne luy sonne que sa dance,
Celle quil scet De puis savance Et entre au parc, hors de la presse ; Et le tabourin vous commence A sonner, et joue ma
maistresse, Contre son dit et sa promesse. L’aultre se effernue et se trouble, Et de faict quant la dance cesse Il demeure sur
ung pas double : Dieu scet sil songe creux, et trouve Le povre danceur sexcusoit : Mais quoy il navoit pas ung double

76
Les Droitz nouveaulx (“The New Laws”), a farcical book of law, was composed by Guillaume
Coquillart (ca. 1452-1521)—canon, cantor, and official to the court at Reims—and was likely
declaimed during the carnival festivities of 1480, its target audience being the educated student body
of the Parisian universities.2 In his 1958-63 article that traces the life of the basse danse, Daniel Heartz
presented the above passage, as well as an earlier one from the same oeuvre, for their significant
citing of dance titles integral to Toulouze and Br9085: “Le petit Rouen” (Br9085, no. 16; Toulouze
no. 1), “Le grand Tourin” (Br9085, no. 51; Toulouze, no. 17), “Filles a marier” (Br9085, no. 17;
Toulouze, no. 2), and “(Ma) Maistresse” (Br9085, no. 18; Toulouze, no. 3) from Binchois’ “L’amy de
ma dame est venis” (see fig. 3.2C).
3 Of these, “Le petit Rouen” and “Filles a marier” (see fig. 1.7)
stand out as the first two titles of Toulouze (and probably the original opening titles of Br9085—see
Ch. 1, p. 20n66) and of the related English sources, Salisbury and Coplande;
4 they were, as Heartz
related, “a pair of dances whose popularity must have been phenomenal.”5
What I find additionally extraordinary about this passage is the dancer’s inattention to the
music. The episode overtly depicts the two key factors necessary “to properly dance a basse danse,”
according to Toulouze and Br9085: knowing the number of steps for any given dance and how to
execute them in order according to the mesures. At no point does either treatise mention the
importance of any familiarity with, or even a basic understanding of, the music that animates the
movements of the dance. Serving as a case study in the chapter “De pactis” (“On Pacts”), Coquillart
Pour cela chascun sen mocquoit.” Guillaume Coquillart, “De pactis,” S’ensuyvent les droitz nouveaulx (ca. 1480; reprint
Paris: Jehan Janot, 1522), fol. D1v, gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k87102980/f9.item. 2 M. J. Freeman, “La Satire affectueuse dans les Droitz nouveaulx de Guillaume Coquillart,” Réforme, Humanisme, Renaissance
11, no. 1 (1980): 92-99 at 92-93, doi.org/10.3406/rhren.1980.1171. 3 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 307-309. 4 Like Nancy, Salisbury is a list of 26 choreographies (including 6 duplicates or variants) scrawled on the flyleaf of a
tome, here the copy of Joannes Balbus de Janua’s Catholicon (1497) in the Salisbury Cathedral library. Coplande—Here
foloweth the maner of dauncynge of bace daunces after the use of fraunce and other places—is a one-and-a-half-page addendum by
printer Robert Coplande to Alexander Barcley’s Here begynneth the introductory to wryte and to pronounce frenche (1521) that
gives a partial translation of the treatise in Br9085 and Toulouze and seven choreographies. For transcriptions and
commentary on both sources, see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 113-22 and 142-48, respectively. 5 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 310.

77
recounts the woeful tale of a fop who wants to impress the court regulars but only knows the steps
for “Filles a marier.” To make sure he gets off on the right foot, so to speak, he asks the one-man
dance band, the tabourin—the player of pipe and tabor—to perform his tune. The tabourin seemingly
assents but then plays a different melody altogether, “(Ma) Maistresse,” which immediately follows
“Filles a marier” in both Toulouze and Br9085. When the music stops, the poor wretch is caught
mid-step, for which he is mocked by the entire assembly.6 Even though he knew the steps to his
dance, he clearly did not hear that the tabourin was playing the music for another. Whether the latter
performed the “Pfundnoten” of the tune precisely as they appear in our sources (albeit an unlikely
option), with rhythmic variations on each note, or as an ornamented version of the melody, this
unfortunate incident suggests that the notes of the basse danse had lengthened to such an extent that
the melody was no longer recognizable.7 This is perhaps the reason that the late fifteenth-century
sources stipulate that one must know the number of steps, how to execute them, and their order for
a given dance. Naturally, a dancer must know how to synchronize each step with the music, but this
technically only requires counting beats, not actually knowing (or discerning) the tune. The
significant change in note duration, to which this anecdote alludes, marks the clear divergence of the
basse danse away from the bassadanza, a distinction first noted by Ambrosio.
6 As I related in the study to the edition of Br9085, “Maistresse” is 40 notes long, while “Filles a marier” is only 32,
which makes the scenario impossible, further extending the absurdity of the situation for an initiated audience, unless it
were the other way around (i.e., the dancer requested “Maistresse” and the tabourin played “Filles a marier”); Bregman
and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 66-67. 7 For more on possible performance practices of the pipe and tabor, see Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,”
65-68.

78
Figure 4.1: “Bassadança Francese chiamata borges in doi,” Pa, fol. 43v
4.1. BASSADANZA OR “BASSADANÇA FRANCESE”?
The final bassadanza in Pa (fol. 34v) bears the title “Bassadança Francese chiamata borges in
doi” (“French bassadanza called ‘Borges’ for two”; fig. 4.1).8 Unlike all those that he and Domenico
composed, which smack of freedom, originality, and flair of movement, such as “Mignotta”
presented in the previous chapter, the limited step vocabulary of this dance may be summarized as
follows:
ss d d d d d ss r r r cc | ss d r r r cc |9
A world apart from the Italian choreographies, earning it the distinction “francese” among the other
bassedanze, the 17 step-units of “Borges” form two Franco-Burgundian mesures: grande parfaite and petite
imparfaite. This is the first written acknowledgement by the Italians of a different school of
bassadanza, for this dance, significantly, does not appear in the dance master’s earlier treatise, Pg
(1463), nor do the two balli francesi, “Amoroso” and “Petit riense” (Pa, fols. 58v-59v, with music on
fol. 65v).10 Dating from the early 1470s, this choreography serves as an intermediate step between
8 For a transcription, translation, and commentary, see Smith, 1:161, and Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 18-20. 9 Ambrosio lists two pairs of three sempi with which the dancers “tornino in dirieto” that are clearly meant to be twice
three desmarches, for which I have given “r r r”; “cc” as two continentie equate one French branle (b). 10 For transcriptions and translations of these two balli, see Smith, 1:174.

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the more “primitive” basses danses of Nancy and the fully matured choreographies of Br9085 and
Toulouze. It gives two of the codified mesures but lacks the initial révérence and branle that open the
basse danse majeure in the francophone manuals.
11 Its modest length also make it seem more of the ilk
of the more succinct Nancy dances: while the shortest basses danses in Toulouze (“Le ioyeulx espoyr,”
no. 9, and “Lesperance de bourbon,” no. 21) and Br9085 (“Lesperance de bourbon,” no. 55)
comprise 22 and 17 step-units, respectively, they are indubitably outliers.
12 The average length of the
choreographies from later in the century is twice as long at 39/40 step-units, a far cry from the
Nancy choreographies and “Borges.” The answer to why these later choreographies doubled in
length from the earlier basses danses—and bassedanze—relates to the base note values of the dances in
question.
Figure 4.2: The bassadanza “Cançon de pifari dicto ‘el Ferrarese,’” V, fols. 32v-33r
11 Notably, these initial steps (Rb) do figure within the 1510 choreography, “Danza chiamata bassa franzesse im dua”
(NYp, fol. 31r), and are followed by a grande mesure parfaite, moyenne mesure parfaite, and petite mesure imparfaite. Also
important is the acknowledgement of “riprese francezze” for the trios of desmarches in this choreography, compared with
Ambrosio’s sempi that “return back.” On the same folio of NYp also appears “Ballo chiamato fraza mignion franzesse in
dua.” For transcriptions, translations, and commentary of these dances, see Smith, 2:25 and 122, and Wilson, The Basse
Dance Handbook, 123-27. 12 “Lesperance de bourbon” is a basse danse mineure, thus its brief section of basse danse is the after dance to a pas de Brabant,
and “Le ioyeulx espoyr” comprises the same melodic material as another dance, “Flo(u)rentine,” which is twice as long;
see chapter 3.1.A n17.

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4.1.A. The Notes of the basse danse Double in Length
Across all three bassedanze that Cornazano disseminated, the principal note value and the rate
at which the tunes advance is the perfect semibreve in —one perfection (since it comprises three
minims), one half of a tempo (an imperfect breve)—as exemplified in figure 4.2, the “Cançon de
pifari dicto ‘el Ferrarese’” (V, fols. 32v-33r). This was also the case for all the examples of early basses
danses presented in Chapter 3. Shorter steps, such as the sempio/pas simple, continentia, and mezavolta,
aligned with these semibreves (each one perfection), while full step-units—two sempi/pas simples or
continentie, a doppio/pas double, a riverentia/reverence, a ripresa/reprise, or a congie/branle—lasted the time of
a full breve: two perfections, two tenor notes. This relationship remained even with the intrinsic
doubling of the note values of the bassadanza and basse danse, for there was no difference in the
number of perfections nor in the amount of time that elapsed per note (pulse). The polyphonic
tenors of “Du pist mein hort” and its motet contrafact, “Qui latuit in virgine”—originally from the
Figure 4.3: Comparison of the tenors of “Du pist mein hort” (Tr87, fol. 109r) in (above)
and its contrafact, “Qui latuit in virgine” (MuEm, fol. 1r) in (below)
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81
now lost chanson “Je suy si povre de liesce”—demonstrate this equivalence particularly well, as shown
in figure 4.3.13 The tenor of “Du pist mein hort” bears the mensuration sign where its main unit
of time (tempus value) is the breve, with the subdivision and pulse at the level of the perfect
semibreve. As we saw in the previous chapter, the tenor’s breve equaled the long in of the
trebulus and the contratenor, whose pulse was at the level of the perfect breve, equivalent to the
tenor’s semibreve. The tenor of its sacred concordance, “Qui latuit in virgine,” shares its
mensuration sign (notated only in the cantus) with the surrounding voices. Comparing the two
tenors (fig. 4.3), we concretely see the equivalence of breves to longs, semibreves to breves, and
minims to semibreves between the former and the latter. In both cases, each tempus comprises two
perfections—two beats of three (123 456). Why this difference in notational aesthetic? Maintaining
the original meter of the model song tenor for the dance version, “Du pist mein hort,” preserves the
song–dance relationship. The motet context was one more step removed, however, and did not
necessarily need to conserve its ties with the song, so why retain the metrical complication of a duple
proportion between the tenor and added voices?
Figure 4.4: “Je sui povere de leesse a xlii notes a v mesures,” Br9085, no. 46
The next time that we encounter the song tenor of “Je suy si povre de liesce” at the end of
the century, its notes had rigidified into an isometric scaffolding of “Pfundnoten” in “Je sui povere
13 For more on these compositions, see Ch. 3.2.
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de leesse” (Br9085, no. 46; fig. 4.4). What had been semibreves in in the model monophonic
melody and the derivative dance setting (“Du pist mein hort”) appeared to systematically double in
length to become breves—albeit blackened as in chant notation—as we saw among all the pairs of
tenors in figure 3.2. To show this doubling of note values from song tenor to late fifteenth-century
basse danse tenor, as an extension our case study of “Je voel servir plus c’conques” from the previous
chapter, I have derived a basse danse tenor in this later, isometric “Pfundnoten” style—in figure 4.8B
below—from its chanson model (fig. 4.8A).
Despite this apparent change in note length in the basses danses of the late fifteenth century,
one step-unit still aligned with one breve’s worth of time. Necessarily, then, the choreographies had
to double in length to match the doubled length of the tenors. Until this point, each step-unit fell
over two notes of tenor. Now, each step-unit aligned with a single tenor note. To demonstrate this
considerable change, figure 4.5A gives the first mesure (grande imparfaite) of “Je sui povere de leesse”
with its accompanying tenor melody where each step-unit pairs with one breve, following the tune
through the entire first phrase and two notes into the second. Figure 4.5B gives the same
choreographic mesure artificially mapped onto the tenor of “Du pist mein hort” from half a century
earlier. Each step-unit again pairs with a breve’s worth of time, but the same number of steps
requires twice as much music since the tune advances twice as quickly at the rate of the semibreve,
carrying the melody until the end of the third phrase! At 25 breves, one would need to play twice
through “Du pist mein hort” to accommodate the 42 step-units of “Je sui povere de leesse.” This
solution is improbable, however, considering the overall shorter length of the earlier basse danse and
bassadanza choreographies; that this is not an exact match—eight breves worth of music would still
remain after the dance ended; and that of all the fifteenth-century dances only “La franchoise
nouvelle” (see fig. 1.9 and section 4.2 below), in a different category of basse danse altogether, and “La
basine … illa fiat ii foys” (Toulouze, no. 45) give the specific indication that they “must be
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played/happen two times” to accommodate all the steps. A different choreography—in the style of
those from Nancy—of 25 step-units certainly would have been intended for the 25 breves of “Du
pist mein hort.”
Figure 4.5: The first mesure of “Je sui povere de leesse”
A: “Je suis povere de leesse,” Br9085, no. 46
B: “Du pist mein hort”
But how exactly did the blackened breves of Br9085 and Toulouze compare metrically and
rhythmically with the void breves and semibreves of “Du pist mein hort” and the bassadanze given by
Cornazano? The same relationship of one step-unit to each tempus comprising two perfections did
not change later in the century with the basses danses of Br9085 and Toulouze. As mentioned in
Chapter 2, Bukofzer and Gombosi reasoned that the blackening of the breves was not merely
ornamental, nor a regional aesthetic. Rather, this color temporis served its functional purpose of
imperfecting otherwise perfect values. The manuals inform us that these dances are to be “played
according to the maier parfait.” Void breves in perfect tempus with major prolation ( ) are perfect
values comprising three smaller perfections (three perfect semibreves) each. The blackening
systematically imperfects them, yielding chains of imperfect breves, each comprising two
perfections. The metrical effect is that these notes behave as if they were void breves in and, thus,
each note of the tenor is indeed twice the length of the earlier basses danses and bassedanze, not only in
appearance. The subdivision of the blackened breves into two perfect semibreves is internally
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corroborated by “Roti boully ioyeulx” (Br9085, no. 55; Toulouze, no. 20—see fig. 4.6).14 The second
half of the basse danse section has twice two void semibreves, each of which receives a pas simple. Two
pas simples comprise a step-unit and “must occupy one entire note of basse danse,” that is, a blackened
breve. In this specific case, the “entire note” has been subdivided into its component semibreves
such that each pas simple falls on one perfection (123 456). These void semibreves, the very element
that caused Blume to doubt the reliability of the dance’s transmission, is precisely the attribute that
shows the functional importance of blackening the breves.
15
Figure 4.6: “Roti boully ioyeulx en pas de breban”/“Roti bolli ioieulx”
Left: Br9085, no. 55; Right: Toulouze, no. 20
“Roti boully ioyeulx” plays yet another important role in this story. A basse danse mineure in
tone 2 with a d final in Br9085 and Toulouze, beginning with a pas de Brabant followed by its basse
danse, it survives as a ballo “Rostiboli gioioso” (or “El gioioso”) in tone 5 with a f final in Pa (fig. 4.7,
where each misura is labeled and step-units for the bassadanza have been underlaid). Here, the
sections are inverted, following the Italian tradition of bassadanza preceding saltarello, which is in turn
followed by a piva. The use of mensuration signs is purely proportional and indicative of pulse alone,
in no way reflecting the actual mensuration of each section.
16 The doubling of note values in the
14 Note the striking dissimilarities between the transmission of this dance in the two francophone sources, from the
second section of the pas de Brabant to the closing basse danse, which makes a reconstruction particularly challenging. 15 See Ch. 2, pp. 40-41. 16 See Ch. 1.1.A.ii.

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initial section of bassadanza has been realized, such that the implied mensuration is and six
semibreves add to form one tempo. The sign that marks the saltarello section indicates that each
step-unit, and thus two big beats of saltarello (123 456—more on this below), lasts the time of four
semibreves from the previous section: . This proportional relationship of
pulse demonstrates Domenico’s explanation that the saltarello is one third (two sixths) “below” the
bassadanza even if its practical meter is (or perhaps still ) in this context. Following Domenico’s
explanation further, the final section of piva is one sixth (a semibreve) below the saltarello in its pulse,
, and “half as much as the bassadanza” in pulse and meter: .
Figure 4.7: “Rostiboli gioioso/El gioioso,” Pa, fol. 66r
misure labeled above; abbreviated bassadanza choreography labeled below
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Heartz identified that “El gioioso” shows us that the breves of the basse danse double to equal
imperfect longs, comprised of two perfect breves which subdivide to a total of six (imperfect)
semibreves, as appear in the ballo.
17 This discovery only further supported Gombosi’s assertion that,
in the basse danse, “The unit of step and musical barring is the Long,” which he proved with extant
settings of La Spagna where each note of the tune appears as an imperfect long in (see Ch. 6.3).
18
To show this doubling again, figure 4.8C imagines the first tenor phrase of “Je voel servir plus
c’onques” with its tenor notes dilated to longs. Measure 2 shows typical figuration between repeated
notes on the same pitch, and measure 12 gives a common cadential preparation (see the comparable
settings of La Spagna; Ch. 6.3). The cantus and contratenor, which by this time in the century had
dropped to assume a bassus function, dance around the long-note tenor as if suspended in time,
weaving contrapuntal lines and spinning motifs that they can imitate back and forth (e.g., mm. 9-11,
13-14). Since the first phrase of the tenor lasts roughly 20 seconds, and is further obscured here by
the fioritura of the outer voices, it is no wonder the poor dancer in Coquillart’s sorry tale opening
this chapter could not hear that the tabourin was not playing his tune.
Figure 4.8: Different permutations of “Je voel servir plus c’onques”
A: Song tenor
(dashed brackets indicate coloration)
B: Isometric basse danse tenor
17 Heartz, “A Fifteenth-Century Ballo,” 363-64. 18 Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” xxxvi.
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C: Polyphonic setting (style ca. 1490) of phrase 1 with added cantus and low contratenor voices
While Gombosi correctly identified the doubling of breves to longs in the late-fifteenthcentury basse danse, where he erred was in claiming that the semibreves of the bassadanza equaled the
breves of the basse danse and that they musically behaved in precisely the same manner. Indeed, once
the note values doubled in length and the meter augmented from to in polyphonic settings, the
imperfect long was the reference unit of tempo in the bassadanza and tempus in the basse danse, to which
each step-unit corresponded. But only one note of isometric basse danse filled each tempus for two
notes of bassadanza. These differences may be summarized as follows:
basse danse (Br9085 and Toulouze):
1 tenor note = 2 perfections = 1 tempus ( or ) ; 1 tenor note (1 tempus) = 1 step-unit
early basse danse & bassadanza:
1 tenor note = 1 perfection = 1/2 tempo ( or ) ; 2 tenor notes (1 tempo) = 1 step-unit
Furthermore, Gombosi identified any tune in a polyphonic setting that advanced at the rate of the
breve in or as a saltarello. Indeed, the written distinction between the saltarello and bassadanza is
subtle, for also in the saltarello one tenor note equals one perfection as one-half of a tempo, and one
step-unit—the reference unit being the doppio—corresponds to two tenor notes. Both misure in
musical practice fall under the mensuration sign and have similar rhythmic patterning, which
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make balli sections between one and the other virtually indistinguishable in musical notation—only
the choreographic descriptions help readers discern between sections of these two misure.
19 Thus, as
notated, all three of Cornazano’s most popular bassadanza and saltarello tenors can simply be
interpreted in one misura or the other. The sole distinction between them is one of pulse and
proportion, which is certainly significant but that may only be observed in practice. As the example
in figure 4.7 demonstrated, the pulse of the saltarello is quicker than that of the bassadanza: one full
tempo (two perfections) of saltarello proportionally occupies two-thirds of a tempo (two perfections) of
bassadanza. Furthermore, the duple proportion of to between the tenor and added voices is
inherent to the bassadanza (and basse danse) but not to the saltarello—in normal musical practice, at
least. Again, figure 4.7 shows that Ambrosio nonetheless understood the two perfections that form a
tempo of saltarello to comprise a total of six semibreves, just like the bassadanza! As we have
established in the latter, the metrical subdivision between a breve in and a long in is the same,
but visually, the notation of the saltarello section of “El gioioso” is deceiving since it looks the same
as the previous bassadanza section. Even the detailed choreographic indications can at times be
misleading. In his description of the deployment of steps in a saltarello, Cornazano explains, “It
consists only of doppi, ondeggiato as a consequence of elevating during the second short step which
touches down in the middle of the one tempo and the next….”20 The three discreet steps (long–
short–long) of the doppio occupy one tempo of bassadanza—falling 123 456—and should likewise fill
one tempo of saltarello, but at a quicker pace. Stating that the short step of one doppio falls between two
tempi of saltarello, Cornazano’s explanation seems confused and confusing until we realize that he
indicates every saltarello section of his balli in perfect tempus. For Cornazano, the mensuration sign
simply indicates single groups of perfections, whether three semibreves or three minims. Naturally,
19 For a comparison of all the sections of fifteenth-century balli across the Italian treatises, see Hoeksema, 2: 67-107. 20 Smith, 1:86-87.
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then, it would seem as if the short step were touching down between two tempi (i.e., two
perfections). But, as we have established, one tempo of saltarello comprises two perfections, as in the
bassadanza. Thus, the short step actually falls between one perfection/beat and the next but within
one metrical time-unit (123 456), as we would find in “Rostiboli gioioso.”
Finally, comparing “Roti boully ioyeulx” and “El gioioso” can further help to correct
apparent errors in the dance. Both phrases of the first basse danse section of the version recorded in
Br9085 contain one breve too many for the number of steps provided (see fig. 4.6), where the last
note of each phrase lacks a step.21 This segment of choreography could certainly be amended, adding
two step-units to create two mesures (albeit the sixteenth-century moyenne imparfaite and parfaite,
respectively): r b s[s] d d d [r] b|ss d d d [ss] :|
Alternatively, the music could be revised to match that of its Italian counterpart and to bring
symmetry and balance to the entire section of basse danse by placing two void semibreves on every
cadential approach as follows:
Figure 4.9: Basse danse section of “Roti boully ioyeulx” (above) with musical corrections (mm. 4 and
10) based on the bassadanza section of “El gioioso” (below)
The monophonic tenor melodies of the bassedanze and basses danses of the early and midfifteenth century were governed by a mensuration of imperfect tempus with major prolation . These
21 Note that the single “s” above the third breve is a simple error and should read “ss.”
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tunes advanced at the rate of the semibreve. Two semibreves comprised one tempo/tempus, an
imperfect breve, to which corresponded one step-unit. In a polyphonic context, all of the note
values effectively doubled: semibreves became breves and breves became longs in perfect tempus in
diminution . By the end of the century, the basse danse saw a doubling of its base note values: what
had been semibreves in transformed into chains of blackened breves in , which in effect
metrically behaved like void breves in . In a polyphonic context, the doubling of the note
values—from blackened breves to imperfect longs in —again only stood to further accommodate
and promote musicians’ creativity, virtuosity, and improvisational prowess when adding
contrapuntal lines to these long-note tenors. This was the final push and expansion before the levee
gave way and the genre set out in a new direction with tenors that were more rhythmically active.
For no sooner do we see evidence of the long, “Pfundnoten” tenors in Toulouze and Br9085 than
we learn of the next step in the evolution of the genre, the so-called “mensural” basses danses.
4.2. THE MENSURAL BASSES DANSES
Three of the unica in Br9085 are mensural basses danses majeures. These dances mark a clear
break with the isometric long-note tradition and with the rigidly codified system of mesures. The title
alone of no. 57, “La franchoise nouvelle” (fig. 4.10; see fig. 1.9 for an image of the manuscript page),
suggests a modernization from the “Pfundnoten”-tenor “La franchoise” (Br9085, no. 7). Its music
appears in void mensural notation that outlines a catchy, hummable melody with a regular, fourbreve phrase structure forming three clear sections. Each section (labeled “A,” “B,” and “C” in fig.
4.10) consists of two “bars,” each worth two longs. This tenor presents all the rhythmic vivacity of
the pas de Brabant set to the broader meter of the basse danse. Its melody through sections A and B
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Figure 4.10: “La franchoise nouvelle et le faut iuer .ii. fois,” Br9085, no. 58
A: Edition with sections “A,” “B,” and “C,” marked and choreography underlaid
Notes in brackets are absent from the original, and the repeat and the final long are editorial.
B: Edition with marked ostinato patterns passacaglia (A & B) and passamezzo (C)

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outlines the descending fourth of a passacaglia (see fig. 4.10B).22 “A” follows the durus (major) fourth,
fa–mi–re–ut, twice in a row, while “B” combines mollis (minor), la–sol–fa–mi, with durus following,
harmonically if not always strictly. The melody through “C” lays the foundation for a passamezzo
harmonic progression: I–V–I– VII–I–V–I in the first phrase; alternately, as shown in the
secondphrase, VII could replace V on the second chord with IV arriving on the fourth. Following
this early glimpse of a new practice, ground-bass progressions would only continue to gain traction
in the sixteenth century. Certainly for dance-band musicians improvising to a tenor, these regular,
predictable harmonic patterns were more welcoming and friendlier to navigate, leaving less to
chance than the austere “Pfundnoten” tenors.
If “La franchoise nouvelle” brought the dance music closer to an “instrumental” structure of
a ground-bass pattern, “La danse de cleves,” the other complete mensural basse danse in Br9085 (no.
57), marked a structural return to song by way of formal markers of poetry (see fig. 4.11).23 The
“open” (ouvert) and “closed” (clos) endings of its A sections mirror the rhyme schemes of
contemporaneous poetry. These cadence types are harmonic in nature, where closed cadences on
the final (d-re) frame open cadences on the subfinal (c-ut) or cofinal (a-la) in an internal abba
“rhyme” scheme. Juxtaposed with the harmonic open and closed endings, this tenor also boasts
“perfect” and “imperfect” endings. As shown in A and B sections in figure 4.11, the metrical
placement of the cadential resolution determines these cadence types: perfect endings place the
cadential arrival on a strong beat (downbeat), while imperfect endings place the cadential arrival on a
weak beat. Like “La franchoise nouvelle,” the repetitiveness of the overall form of “La danse de
cleves”—AABBABBAA—provides musicians with a helpful framework, replete with melodic and
22 Gilbert noted the underlying ostinato patterns in “La franchoise nouvelle” and similar melodies in “The Music and
Dances,” 55.
23 Gilbert noted conventions of the mensural dances shared with song in “The Music and Dances,” 52-54.
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cadential variants, to practice contrapuntal formulae across open and closed, perfect and imperfect
phrases, returning towards the genre’s origins in song.
Figure 4.11: “La danse de cleves,” Br9085, no. 57
Sections (A, B) and cadence types (closed/open, perfect/imperfect) labeled
In both “La franchoise nouvelle” and “La danse de cleves,” semibreves are organized into
two groups of three, implying the mensuration sign . As with all the other forms of basse danse and
bassadanza, dancers perform one step-unit in the time of six semibreves, or two perfections. Heartz
again demonstrated, this time based on step deployment, that these six semibreves correspond to
one blackened breve, further substantiating their augmentation: a blackened breve in of the
isometric tenors equals six semibreves (one long) in of the mensural tenors.24
Since there are only 12 longs’ worth of musical material for the twenty-four step-units of “La
franchoise nouvelle,” the title informs that the music “must be played two times” to accommodate
24 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 320-21.
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the full choreography.
25 Like the music, the steps part with the old-fashioned isometric basse danse
towards a more liberal choreographic structure. The step vocabulary has expanded to include a new
variant, the double demarchant (dr
), a backwards-moving pas double that replaces the desmarche and only
otherwise appears in “Ma dame la daufine” of Nancy as “dd” (see fig. 1.6).26 The mesures stray
significantly from those found in the more rigid isometric basses danses, here forming three new
groups:
R b ss d d d ss dr ss d dr b|ss d d d dr d dr b|ss d dr b|
The step-units fall into sets of twelve, eight, and four, respectively, which means that they coincide
with the musical phrases for the first time. The first mesure finishes at the end of one time through
the musical form (twelve longs). Within the repeat of the music, the second mesure lasts the eight
longs of the first two sections, cadencing with the end of the “B” section, and the third perfectly
aligns with four longs of the final section, “C.”
This neatly trimmed choreography and the rhythmicized, enchanting tenors of “La
franchoise nouvelle” and “La danse de cleves,” with their lucid melodic and harmonic structures,
mark a significant step towards a complete reform of the dance, anticipating what would come in the
sixteenth-century basse danse. As Heartz illuminated, these dances “belong[ed] not to the fantastic
late-Gothic world of Pfundnoten tenors, but to the confined and ordered world of the basse dance
Commune.”27
25 “et le faut iuer .ii. fois/.” 26 See Crane, Materials, no. 41 (pp. 50 and 83) and Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 262; for a discussion of this step in
“Ma dame la daufine,” see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 16. 27 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 319.

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Chapter 5
Vulgarization of the Court Dance
The basse danse in the Sixteenth Century
Good Company
Come, come, sound a song
if you would like to see some lusty leaps.
Pastime
Soon I will show the fashion
of dancing according to the new art.
¶Note that on the scaffolding
or someplace higher will be
different types of instruments
to play and alter [the current
atmosphere] when the time comes,
and upon the current passage [i.e., dialogue]
could play a brief basse danse|
-Nicolas de la Chesnaye, La Condamnacion des bancquetz (1511) 1
In the above passage from the 1511 morality play La Condamnacion des bancquetz (“The
Condemnation of Banquets”), two of the characters, Good Company and Pastime, call for music
and dance. Good Company aims to impress the assembly with “some lusty leaps,” while Pastime
counters with a promise to demonstrate the new style of dancing, followed by musicians playing “a
brief basse danse.” The passage introduces the notion that, by the 1510s, there was a new art of
dancing the Franco-Burgundian basse danse (although this change in the artform does not seem to
have extended to the Italian bassadanza). But not until the end of the following decade do we
encounter descriptions of such a dance.
1 “Bonne Compaignie: Sus sus sonnez une chancon / Si verrez quelque sault gaillart
Passe temps: Tantost monstreray la facon / De dancer sur le nouvel art
¶ Est a noter que sur leschauffault ou en quelque lieu plus hault seront les instrumens de diverses facons pour en iouer &
diversiffier quant temps sera Et sur ce present passaige pourront iouer une basse dance a assez briefve|”;
Nicolas de la Chesnaye, La Nef de santé avec le gouvernail du corps humain, et la condamnacion des bancquetz, a la louenge de diepte et
sobriete, et le traictie des passions de lame (Paris: Michel le noir libraire, 1511), fol. K2v. Hertzmann made light of this passage
in “Studien zur Basse danse im 15. Jahrhundert,” 403.

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5.1. THE SOURCES AND THEIR AUTHORS
Three main francophone sources that document the basse danse in the sixteenth century attest
to a stark shift in the dance’s status. It was no longer captive of the courtly sphere. It had gained
traction in more popular circles of cities and towns. As Daniel Heartz related, this process had
begun already with Michel Toulouze, whose print “communicated to the world at large the
aristocratic basse danse repertoire.”2 Access to the dance continued into the sixteenth century in the
form of print.
Sensuyuent plusieurs Basses dances … (Moderne; “Here follow several basses danses…”), first
printed by Jacques Moderne in Lyon around 1528 or 1529, presents its material in a format and
order similar to those of Br9085 and, especially, Toulouze, including a key for a lay audience
explaining which step each letter represents in the choreographic tablatures.3 Its opening treatise is
wholly modeled on that of the fifteenth-century sources, but it presents significant updates for a
dance adapting to a shift in social circles, namely, fewer and newer types of mesures. What follows is a
list of 199 basse danse titles with their choreographies. No music appears in the manual, but the titles,
such as “Cest a grand tort,” “La mosque de biscaye,” “Jouyssance,” and “En lombre dung
buissonnet,” certainly refer to the contemporary chanson repertoire.
Our other two sources take an entirely different approach to the presentation of their
material. While studying law at Avignon, Anthonius Arena (ca. 1500-before 1550) composed a
treatise Anthonius arena Soleriensis Provincialis ad suos compagniones studiantes qui sunt de persona friantes,
bassas dansas in gallanti stillo compositas … (Arena; “Anthonius Arena from the province of Soliers to
his fellow students, who are of frivolous character, basses danses composed in a valorous style …”)
2 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 326.
3 Moderne: S’ensuyuent plusieurs Basses dances tant Communes que Incommunes …, (N.P.; attr. Lyon: Jacques Moderne, ca.
1528-32). For a commentary, transcription, and English translation, see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 179-218.

97
which he first published in 1528/9.4 Written mainly in Latin elegiac verse packed with wordplay,
vernacular borrowings, and witticisms at times bordering on the ridiculous, Arena’s text targets the
erudite university student, taking a mundane subject and turning it on its head by its eccentric use of
hyper-intellectualized language. The smart, humorous writing style of this text, rather than the
subject it treated, is what kept Arena’s oeuvre relevant through over 40 editions printed up through
the mid-eighteenth century. He begins, for example, by listing the value of proper dancing, namely,
to impress and woo a prospective partner: “Whoever engages ladies and pretty maids in dancing will
find sweet reward in the basse dance.”5 As Wilson remarked, “Arena makes it clear that his real
theme is not dancing, but How to Meet Girls. Dancing is merely the best means to this end.”6
Despite the absurdity of the language, his description of the steps and their relationship to the music
is quite insightful, and he concludes his “how to” guide with 58 titles and their choreographies but
no music.
In the last decades of the sixteenth century, Thoinot Arbeau—the anagrammatic pen name
of Burgundian cleric Jehan Tabourot (1520-95)—composed the only other French basse danse source
to combine music with choreographies, his authoritative dance treatise Orchesographie (Arbeau;
1589).7 Although newer dances such as the pavane had superseded the basse danse at this point,
Arbeau’s efforts and detailed explanations in the form of a Socratic dialogue—between himself as
the master and his fictive pupil, Capriol—give a wealth of information about the sixteenth-century
4 Arena: Anthonius Arena, Anthonius arena Soleriensis Provincialis ad suos compagniones studiantes, qui sunt de persona friantes,
bassas dansas in gallanti stillo compositas … (N.P.; probably Lyon, 1528/9). For biographical details about Arena, and
context, transcriptions, and translations of the text, see Anthonius Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” trans. John Guthrie and
Marino Zorzi, Journal of the Society for Dance Research 4, no. 2 (Autumn, 1986): 3-53, and Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook,
149-78. 5 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 10. 6 Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 149. 7 Arbeau: Jehan Tabourot (alias Thoinot Arbeau), Orchesographie. Et traicté en forme de dialogve, par leqvel tovtes personnes pevvent
facilement apprendre & practiquer l'honneste exercice des dances (Langres: Jehan des Preyz, 1589). All translations from
Orchesographie are my own. For a full English translation of the treatise, see Thoinot Arbeau, Orchesography, trans. Mary
Stewart Evans (1948; reprint Toronto: Dover Publications, 1967). For a commentary, transcription, and translation of
the passages pertaining to the basse danse, see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 225-51.

98
dance that complements and completes the other sources surviving from earlier in the century when
the genre was still in its prime.
5.1.A. New Precisions in the Dance, the Steps, and the Choreographies
The step vocabulary and the ideal of the mesures remained central to the sixteenth-century
basse danse. The same five types of steps—including the révérence which was now considered a discrete
movement—composed the sixteenth-century choreographies. Beyond having a firm grasp on how
to count beats in order to align the steps with the music, only with the sixteenth-century sources we
receive instruction as to the importance of understanding and following the music for the dance:
If you desire to be a complete master of the art, remember what follows. The refined reprise
must occupy four tempora [i.e., beats] and the double and the congé, also. Since there are only
two tempora to a pas simple, two simples take four tempora. Two simples, thus take the same
amount of music as one double—the music determines this; but for the exact relationship ask
the advice of singers who are expert in ut re fa sol la re mi [solmization].8
Each step-unit now comprised four counts, “four beat-patterns of the tabor, which accompany four
measures of the chanson sounded by the flute [three-holed pipe],” what Arbeau later refers to as a
“quaternion” (see section 5.1B below).9 Besides these new precisions about synchronizing the steps
to the music, and the advice to seek the counsel of experienced musicians to become more adept at
musical matters, new stipulations in terminology and gesture (including gaze) pertaining to the steps
emerged:
• According to Arena, the révérence was made by stepping backwards with the left foot (L) as in
the previous century, adding that the hatted should doff their hat with the left hand as they
incline towards their partner.
10 Arbeau contested the side on which Arena considered the
8 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 22. I have not been able to discern any particular significance for these solmization
syllables or the sequence of pitches they designate. 9 Arbeau, fol. 26v
10 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 12-14.

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dance to begin, saying that he follows the precept of his teacher that one should step
backwards with the right foot (R).11 Both sources call attention to the importance of casting
a fair and gracious glance towards one’s partner—“your eyes sending her tender
messages”12—during this step, which now both opened and closed the dance.
• While “branle” (b) consistently appeared in northern sources, “congé ”—which had resurfaced
for the time since Nancy—replaced it in southern sources, like Arena, with the sign 9 or c for
continencia (Spain) or continentia (Italy), meaning “restraint” or “moderation.”13 Arbeau
explains, “The branle is called congedium by Arena and I believe that he names it as such
because, seeing the dancer’s gesture, it seems they would like to end [the dance] and take
leave.”14 The branle step still consisted of shifting one’s weight from one side to the other,
and Arbeau stipulates that one stands with “feet together, swaying the body gently” first left
then right, left then right, with the four musical measures, “stealing a gentle, discreet glance”
at one’s partner.
o Arbeau’s term congé (c.) referred to a closing gesture, which integrated a reverence,
taking leave for the following section of the dance or ball: “one must lead the
damsel, bowing to her, still holding her hand, to return to where they began in order
to dance the second part (the retour) of the basse danse” (see below).15 Arena essentially
described the same movement for the final congé of any basse danse, saying to perform
it “doffing your bonnet with an appropriate bend of body and backwards leg. Always
11 Arbeau, fols. 26v and 28r. 12 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 44.
13 The Iberian and Italian sources referred to here are Cervera: Cervera, Arxiu Comarcal de la Segarra (ACSG),
“Notacions gràfiques de dances,” fol. 1r (ca. 1496)—see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 66-73; and Stribaldi: Turin,
Archivio di Stato, Archivio Biscaretti, mazzo 4, no. 14 (1517)—see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 132-41. 14 For this and the following sentence, Arbeau, fol. 27r. 15 Arbeau, fol. 26r.

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gaze tenderly in your lady’s face when you make the reverence at the end of the
dance.”16
• The pas simples (ss) still always appeared as a pair and had not changed in their execution, first
stepping L then R. But because the timing of the step had expanded, one devoted every
other musical measure to joining the feet. While Arbeau preferred the pattern step–together–
step–together, he conceded that Arena and his disciples inverted the movement, beginning
with the feet together–step–together–step.
17 Both denote the importance of not taking such
long strides, where Arbeau advises to always consider the size of the room, as the Italian
dance masters had (partire di terreno).
18
• The pas doubles (d) only ever now appeared singly or in a group of 3, where the order of steps
held over from the previous century. Again, because of the four beats allotted to each stepunit, there was time for a final joining of the feet. According to Arbeau, for the first double,
one stepped L–R–L–together; for the second, R–L–R–together; and the third proceeded as
had the first.19 Arena again seems to invert this pattern: since a joining of the feet preceded
his second simple (R), which would be followed by the pas double(s), L first had to join R, then
take a further step, followed by R, “but the fourth step shall be made by that most noble
shank that previously made the first two steps”; thus, together–L–R–L, and so on.20
• The term reprise (r) ubiquitously superseded desmarche in the sixteenth-century sources, but, as
in the fifteenth century, this step remained the most nebulous in its explanation. Only one
16 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 43. 17 Arbeau, fol. 27v. 18 “But do not offer steps of a length as prescribed by the Law on Weights and Measures. Remember that the legal
definition of passus is five feet, so beware of tripping the legal passus: in dancing let your pace be no longer than one
foot…”; transcribed and translated in Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 156-57. 19 Arbeau, fol. 27v.
20 Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 157.

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reprise ever occurred at a time, no longer ever in a series of three. Arena understood it to be a
lateral movement like the Italian ripresa, moving R twice (presumably first joining the feet
from the previous step), then L, and R once more.21 This step had a more overtly flirty—
even naughty—air than the others, since with each movement to the right, one would
engage in a discreet game of footsie and touch shoulders with their partner, “and you
yourself should take care not to bump the wench too much. If you bang her too hard, you
will cause the girl to [file] a claim [against you].”22 Arbeau understood the reprise to be subtler
movement, where one would “sway the knees, the feet, or just the toes a little, as if the feet
were trembling.”23 As with Arena, the movement happened twice on the right, then
alternating, one on each musical measure: R–R–L–R.
The form and complexity of the mesures had relaxed significantly after the turn of the century,
a development only officially documented in Moderne (see table 5.1).24 The three sizes—grande,
moyenne, and petite—of mesures remained but had been redefined. The pas doubles now only occurred
singly or in a group of three. Both grandes and moyennes mesures had three pas doubles; the petite had but
one. In quality, only mesures parfaite and imparfaite remained and were still defined by the respective
presence or absence of “ss” following the pas double(s). Then came the reprise(s) and the branle. Both
the moyennes and petites mesures had a single reprise before the closing branle. The grande mesure had a trio
of reprise–double–reprise before the final branle, a variant of “rrr” in the fifteenth-century
choreographies that occurred with quite some regularity and that had now become the rule. What
distinguished the grande mesure parfaite from the imparfaite was the respective presence or absence of
another pair of simples between the double and the second reprise.
21 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 17-18, and Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 156-57. 22 Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 157. 23 Arbeau, fol. 28r.
24 Moderne, fols. A2v-A3r, B1r-v.

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“prefix” * grande mesure moyenne mesure petite mesure **
parfaite R 9 b ss ddd ss r d ss r b ss ddd ss r b [ss d ss r b]
imparfaite R 9 b ss ddd rdr b ss ddd r b [ss d r b]
Table 5.1: The six types of mesure in the sixteenth-century basse danse according to Moderne25
With respect to the “manners of [dancing] the basse danse,” only Moderne makes fleeting
mention of the basse danse majeure or mineure (fol. A3r-v), albeit with some confusion and mangled
wording in his definitions, plus the inversion in order of the pas de Brabant (or “pas de burbon,” as he
prints) following the basse danse in the mineure. For Arbeau, the tourdion—also a ternary dance but
“lighter and more frenetic” in character, “nothing other than an earthbound galliard”—was the
standard after-dance.
26 But within the basse danse proper, all three sources present two new categories
of the dance: commune and incommune.
In form and variability, the basses danses incommunes—or basses danses “parfaictes &
imparfaictes” as Moderne also labels them, due to their fluctuating arrangement of perfect and
imperfect mesures—represent the holdover from the fifteenth century.27 “La franchoise nouvelle”
(fig. 4.10A) attests to the continuity and gradual shift in choreographic structure of the basse danse
from the fifteenth to the sixteenth century. Recall its choreography:
R b ss d d d ss dr ss d dr b|ss d d d dr d dr b|ss d dr b|
Imagining “r” in place of each “dr
” (double demarchant) its 24 step-units combine to form a
close variant of the sixteenth-century grande mesure parfaite followed by a grande mesure imparfaite and a
petite mesure imparfaite, as shown in table 5.1. Similarly to “La franchoise nouvelle,” the basse danse
incommune used choreographies tailored to the length of the accompanying music, and despite their
25 *“R 9 b” appears interchangeably with “R b” throughout the print. The symbol “9,” which is not defined in the text
but presumably means branle, as explained above, is redundant since “b” always follows.
**The two forms of petite mesure erroneously appear transposed in the print and have been switched here since ss follows
the pas double(s) in the mesure parfaite rather than the imparfaite.
Note that, although not officially documented in the previous century, both the moyenne and petite mesure imparfaite occur
in choreographies in Br9085 and Toulouze.
26 Arbeau, fols. 26r and 28r-v. 27 Moderne, fol. B3r.

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simpler vocabulary of step groupings, they remained challenging to internalize. These less-common
basses danses, explained Arena, “are hardly danced at banquets, but dear comrades have made
[composed] them to be danced in private chambers.”28 Arbeau fretted that “only those who wanted
to glorify themselves above others, and make known that they had a good memory, and often outwit
with [the knowledge of this dance] those who only knew how to dance the commune” danced the
basses danses “irregulieres, & non communes.”29 For “those who only knew” the basses danses
communes—“that is to say,” Moderne acknowledged, “those that we dance more often nowadays”30—
a single choreography sufficed. This was the final stage of maturity for the genre, where the
choreography assumed a more accessible but petrified format or, as Heartz morbidly described it,
“the final stiffening of the form as death overtakes it—a veritable rigor mortis of the basse dance.”31
The basse danse commune proper comprised 20 step-units, forming three mesures imparfaites
(without blending perfect and imperfect). It was systematically followed by a supplemental section of
12 step-units in 2 mesures called the “moytie” (moitié, or “half”) by Arena (fol. F5r), the residu
(“residuum”) by Moderne (fol. B3r), and the retour (“return”) by Arbeau (fol. 26r).
32 The moitié also
followed the basses danses incommunes.
33 The combined sections of the basse danse commune added to a
total of 32 step-units that may be summarized as follows:
basse danse: R b ss d r d r b | ss d d d r d r b | ss d r b (c.)
28 “ne se dansent gueres souuent aux bancquetz/ Mais de bons compaignons les ont faictes pour danser en chambre”;
Arena, fol. F5v; my translation. 29 Arbeau, fols. 38r and 37v. 30 “Icy apres en suyuent les noms de toutes basse dances communes. Cest assauoir ceulx que plus souuent on dance
mainctenant”; Moderne, fol. B2r. 31 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 305.
32 The first possible appearance of the moitié is in Toulouze, no. 9, “Le ioyeulx espoyr a xviii notes & demie [22 total] &
.3.m[esures].&.d[emie].” Heartz (“The Basse Dance,” 303) first suggested that the “demie” referred to the sixteenthcentury moitié, to which Wilson (The Basse Dance Handbook, 57 and 262) added, “It is unexpected to find such a demie
being used as early as c. 1495; probably the dance belonged to a parallel regional tradition” and the “demie” was well
enough know that it required no further explanation, like the pas de Brabant, especially since it only appears in Toulouze, a
print meant for public circulation, as was highlighted earlier.
33 “Notez que ainsi comment toutes les danses communes sont a .xx. semblablement toutes les danses communes & non
communes ont une moytie a .xii.” Arena, fol. F5v. Neither Moderne nor Arbeau explicitly mentions dancing the residu or
retour after the basse danse incommune.

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moitié/residu/retour: b d r b | ss d d d r d r b (c.)34
When taken altogether, there is a symmetry between the second and third mesures of the basse danse
and the moitié—grande imparfaite – petite imparfaite – petite imparfaite – grande imparfaite—that is offset by
the initial petite mesure imparfaite in its fifteenth-century form. The parenthetical “c.” for congé at the
end of each section appears only in Orchesographie, even if Arena also advises making a reverence within
the final congé to properly close the dance.
5.1.B. A New Musical Language
As was the case with the fifteenth-century Italian manuals, only one of the core sixteenthcentury francophone sources (Arbeau) contains any music. Luckily, ample descriptions in these
sources guide us in navigating contemporary collections of dance music that include basses danses.
Among these, in both titles and musical behavior, the basse danse had finally been updated, adopting a
more current, formulaic musical repertory—already beginning with “La danse de cleves” and “La
franchoise nouvelle”—to accompany its new choreographic regularity. Certainly, titles such as “La
marguerite,” “Mamie” (Br9085, no. 2; Toulouze, no. 26), “Mamour” (Br9085, no. 20; Toulouze, no.
39), and “Triste plaisir,” were a holdover from the previous century, albeit with modernized
choreographies for which the music must have been readapted. But the main body of the repertoire
had finally been revised after a century to reflect the contemporary tastes of a new audience and to
mark a decided return to the genre’s origins in song.
Arbeau’s basse dance commune for pipe and tabor (fig. 5.1A) of Claudin de Sermisy’s (ca. 1490-
1562) chanson “Jouyssance vous donneray” (fig. 5.1B) exemplifies the new repertory. It is invaluable
34 Moderne gives two different forms of residu (fol. B3r), both of which begin with a reverence; the first version is
practically the same as Arena’s moitié and Arbeau’s retour. They read as follows:
R9 b r b | ss d d d r d r b (NB: the initial “b” is likely an error and should read “d” as in the following choreography)
R d r b | ss d r b ss d r b

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for understanding the sixteenth-century basse danse. Figure 5.1A shows precisely how the steps
accorded to the music, where one step-unit fell over each quaternion—four measures of 3/2 time.
The dance proper, “according to the music,” Arena explains, “must be danced in twenty longs, and
each long is composed of four semibreves,” which he had referred to as “tempora” when quantifying
the duration of the steps (see above).35 Arena’s imperfect long equals Arbeau’s quaternion. By
adding the steps of the full basse danse (proper and retour), the attentive Capriol deduced, “I find by
counting the characters that you have given me to memorize, that the basse dance contains twenty
quaternions, and the retour of the basse dance contains twelve quaternions.”36 For the 32 step-units of
the full basse danse commune were 32 quaternions of music: 80 measures for the proper and another 48
for the retour.
Figure 5.1: “Jouyssance vous donneray”
A: Basse danse commune for pipe and tabor, first 12 quaternions; Arbeau, fols. 33v-35r
Drum pattern given above, with monophonic melody below and steps underlaid.
Musical sections “A” (a1, a2) and “B” (b1, b2) are labeled (NB: final “A” is omitted), and quaternions are numbered
35 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 46.
36 Arbeau, fol. 28r.

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B: Chanson by Claudin de Sermisy
from 37 Chansons musicales a quatre parties (Paris: Pierre Attaingnant, ca. 1528), no. 12
Musical sections “A” (a1, a2) and “B” (b1, b2) are labeled
C: Comparison of Sermisy’s superius and tenor voices with Arbeau’s monophonic line
Musical sections “A” (a1, a2) and “B” (b1, b2) are labeled
The subdivision of the long into four measures of 3/2-time yielded regular, four- or eightbar phrases which formed sections of the tune that closed simultaneously with the choreographic
periods in an overall symmetrical “ABA” form. To achieve this, Arbeau recast Sermisy’s chanson (in
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mensuration) into the compound duple of the basse danse. He further altered the overall form of the
original chanson—a1–a2–b1–b2–a2, as highlighted in figure 5.1B—to fit the choreographic structure
of the basse danse commune, which necessitated 20 longs, or 80 measures of 3/2-time. Figure 5.1A
shows the “A” and “B” sections of music. Arbeau gave the 16 measures, equivalent to a1 and a2
from the song, twice to comprise his A section (quaternions 1-8), where the eighth quaternion coincides
with the branle step that concludes the first mesure. The following quaternion begins the B section of
the tune concurrently with the second mesure. Comprising eight step-units like the first, the latter
straddles the 16 total measures (four quaternions) of B (twice b1 and b2 of the chanson) and the return
of A, cadencing together with its first half (a1 and a2 of the chanson)—at the end of the sixteenth
quaternion, measure 64. The four steps of the third and final mesure of the dance proper align with the
last four quaternions of tune—the second a1 and a2 of the A section, again of 16 measures. The end
of the musical form ABA coincides with the end of the choreography for the basse danse proper. To
accommodate the full choreography, the music then repeats so that the moitié or retour may ensue.
Arena explains that the dancers return to where they began in order to engage in this second section
while “the pipe-and-tabor player, a skilful master in his art, sounds once more the beginning of the
dance just performed. Then he plays the moitié ….”37 Accordingly, Arbeau places the initial four stepunits (first mesure) of the retour with the four quaternions of the B section of music. The final mesure
exactly fits the 8 quaternions of the final A section of music. It is as if the retour were necessary to
correct the misalignment of musical phrases and mesures at the end of the dance proper, where the
second and third mesures (8+4 step-units) had not synchronized with the 4+8 quaternions of the B and
final A sections of music. Since the mesures of the retour match the 12 final quaternions of the musical
form, the first eight quaternions would have provided the music necessary for the dancers to travel
back to their point of departure.
37 Arena, “Rules of Dancing,” 44.

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In addition to establishing a musical form that loosely resembled that of the sixteenthcentury chanson and that finally aligned with the choreographic phrases, this dance epitomizes the
shift in the genre’s metrical structure from the fifteenth to the sixteenth century (summarized and
compared in figure 5.2 below). While each step-unit still took the time of an imperfect long
(comprising 12 minims in both cases), its subdivision and internal groupings changed markedly from
one century to the next. The long of the fifteenth-century basse danse divided into two perfections
(two perfect breves)—twice three imperfect semibreves. One perfection, or breve, equated three
groups of two minims. The long of the sixteenth-century basse danse, conversely, divided into two
imperfect breves each comprising four perfect semibreves. One breve, worth two perfections,
equated two groups of three minims.
Figure 5.2: Comparison of the metrical subdivision of the long
in the fifteenth- and sixteenth-century basse danse
This shift substantially affected the choreographic flow of the dance. To understand the
change in the feel of the basse danse from one century to the next, I invite you, dear reader, to stand
up and try a couple of steps in what we could consider the seventh-inning stretch. The pas double
most flagrantly demonstrates these differences. Its canter in the fifteenth century, consisting of three
steps falling long(L)–short(R)–long(L) (123 456 at ca. 120-32 bpm to the imperfect semibreve), was
regularized in the following century, parsed out in three equal steps with a joining of the feet, each
movement occurring on a perfect semibreve (at ca. 80-84 bpm). The action seemingly slows down
since the pulse of the semibreves had slowed. Within this particular cross-century proportion, from

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three imperfect semibreves to two perfect semibreves per breve, the result is the same whether we
espouse the prevailing fifteenth-century approach of breve equivalency—i.e., a breve in (one
perfection) of the fifteenth-century basse danse equals a breve in 3/2 (two perfections) of the
sixteenth-century basse danse—or we adopt the growing sixteenth-century notion of minim
equivalency (i.e., a minim in equals a minim in 3/2), since a breve subdivides to six minims in
both cases.38 Even the pas simples would have had a much slower feel from one century to the next.
In the fifteenth-century version of the dance, the L–R steps would fall 123 456 (again, at ca. 120-32
bpm) with R gliding past L to be placed on semibreve 4 within the tempus. The more deliberate step–
together–step–together of the sixteenth-century pas simples, where steps alternated with joining of the
feet on each perfect semibreve (again, at ca. 80-84 bpm), would have felt strikingly protracted in
comparison to the bygone step.
And finally, this dance further demonstrates the manner in which a tabourin, who could make
or break a dancer’s reputation on the dance floor and in society at large, would have adapted a song
tenor into a soloistic basse danse tenor, accompanied by its type of drum pattern: . As figure
5.1C above shows, Arbeau’s melodic line for three-holed flute is an ornamented adaptation of the
tenor of Sermisy’s chanson. It balances flowing runs of semiminims with the gentle rocking of trios of
minims and points of repose on semibreve–minim pairs. Where the melody diverges from the song
tenor, it incorporates elements of the superius voice in its cadential ornamentation that blend cantus
and tenor clausulae. This example of basse danse music specifically for the pipe and tabor is unique
within the repertory. Surviving collections of sixteenth-century dance music convey a different type
of musical setting of basses danses.
38 For more on breve vs. minim equality in proportions according to different theorists and practitioners, see Anna Maria
Busse Berger, Mensuration and Proportion Signs: Origins and Evolution (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993), 51-86; Bonnie J.
Blackburn, “Leonardo and Gaffurio on Harmony and the Pulse of Music,” in Essays on Music and Culture in Honor of
Herbert Kellman, ed. Barbara Haggh (Paris: Brepols, 2001), 128-49 at 136-40. On discussions of pulse as related to
measure or the beat in music treatises, see Deford, Tactus, Mensuration, and Rhythm in Renaissance Music, 77-79 and 207-09
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The division of the quaternion, or long, into four equal, perfect semibreves, as explained by
Arena and demonstrated by Arbeau, seems to have been lost on music printers. The danseries that
include basses danses give music composed in four voices set in . Figure 5.3A shows the second basse
danse from Pierre Attaingnant’s Second livre contenant trois Gaillardes, trois pavanes, vingt trois branles, Tant
gays, Simples, Que doubles, Douze basses dances, & Neuf tourdions … (Paris, 1547). The mensuration is
adequate for musicians to strictly keep time for themselves and dancers, and to maintain a continuity
of melodic line, but the ebb and flow of stresses among perfect groups of minims are lost. This
prompted Arbeau to warn Capriol that, although the printed dance collections by Attaingnant and
Nicolas du Chemin are good sources of basse danse music, “nevertheless, you must reset the abovementioned basses danses in triple meter, since they are set in duple meter.”39 Heeding his advice, I
show in figure 5.3B the same dance music given in 5.3A set in 3/2-time.
40 Now, the four-bar
(quaternion) phrase structure leaps off the page, making evident the placement of the steps and the
rhythmic hemiola at the end of the B section, which in a duple meter is not a hemiola at all.
Apart from one basse danse in Attaingnant’s Second livre, none add to twenty quaternions (or 80
perfect semibreves), making it difficult to know precisely how to dance to these surviving examples,
since no choreographies accompany the music. For those like the one in figure 5.3, the A section,
when repeated, adds up to a total of eight quaternions, and the B section totals four, as in “Jouyssance
vous donneray.” Understanding how the choreographies and music should align in the basse danse
commune, we could imagine that the A section of Attaingnant’s second basse danse, and any others of
similar construction, should be repeated after B (again, as in “Jouyssance”), in order to complete the
Figure 5.3: Four-voice basses danses
39 “Toutesfois, il vous fauldra reduire en mesure ternaire lesdictes basse-dances, lesquelles sont mises en mesure binaire”;
Arbeau, fols. 37r-v. 40 Note that the opening rest has been placed at the end of the dance to complete the final perfection.
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A: Untitled “Basse danse” (no. 2) from Attaingnant, Second livre, fols. 0v-1r
B: Transcription of Attaingnant’s second basse danse with minims grouped into perfect semibreves in
3/2-time and with tick marks between semibreves
Superius
Tenor
Contratenor
Bassus

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C: Sermisy’s “Jouyssance vous donneray” as a four-voice basse danse
“ABA” musical form of 20 quaternions for the dance proper. Upon repeating the entire form, the first
A-section would provide travel music, while the B section and second A would accompany the
moitié/retour. By the same token, we can reimagine entire four-voice chansons in the meter of the basse
danse to accompany choreographies attributed with concordant or similar titles, such as all four
voices of “Jouyssance vous donneray” recast as a basse danse in figure 5.3C.

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By the time Arbeau was writing, “basses danses [had been] out of fashion for forty or fifty
years; but I foresee,” he optimistically conjectured, “that wise, modest ladies will revive them, as it is
an honorable and modest sort of dance.”41 As worldly a dance master as he was, Arbeau sadly did
not possess the same ability as a fortuneteller. The basse danse only continued to fall into oblivion at
the turn of the seventeenth century. These dances that had once been so popular at court, and then
in cities and towns, had now become obscured by simpler dances that required a yet simpler step
vocabulary—pavanes and branles, for example, can be danced with only pas simples and pas doubles in
their most basic forms. The sole witness to the sweeping evolutionary arc, which waxed throughout
the fifteenth century and waned over the sixteenth, that was the extraordinary life of the bassadanza
and the basse danse, and that has surviving music and choreographies for the entire period, is La
Spagna. In the following chapter, this tune will help narrate the full biography of this genre, the
queen of courtly dance.
41 Arbeau, fol. 24v.

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Chapter 6
Following the Footsteps of La Spagna
A Case Study
Figure 6.1: “Tenore del Re di spagna,” V, fols. 32r-v
(semibreve numbers added above)
The dance tenor given in figure 6.1 above hardly needs any introduction. “Il Re di spagna,”
or La Spagna, survives in nearly 250 musical settings from a time period that spans over 150 years,
while other basse danse and bassadanza tenors typically survive in one polyphonic setting at best. What
is perhaps more remarkable still is that this dance tune alone can be used to demonstrate the
differences between the basse danse, bassadanza—as discussed in the previous chapters—and the
analogous Germanic tradition of the Hoftanz (see Ch. 6.2 below), in the second half of the fifteenth
century and early sixteenth. Otto Gombosi initially noticed the unmitigated importance of La Spagna
to the dance tradition. His study “The Cantus Firmus Dances” was the first to trace the musical
5 10 15
20 25 30
35 40 45

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evolution of La Spagna.
1 Although the importance of Gombosi’s work cannot be underestimated, he
made one principal error with respect to settings of La Spagna that remains to be corrected. As
stated in Chapters 2 and 4, Gombosi first correctly described the rhythmic behavior of basse danse
tenors, explaining that the imperfect breves of Br9085 and Toulouze doubled to become imperfect
longs in . But he mistakenly equated these same note values with the bassadanza, perpetuating the
idea that the perfect semibreves of Cornazano’s tenors “doubled” to become imperfect longs as
well, whereas this would in fact be a fourfold augmentation. As a result, he conflated the two dances
into the compound umbrella term “Bassadanza-Bassedanse,” which he applied to late fifteenth- and
early sixteenth-century basse danse settings of La Spagna. Settings that were in fact bassedanze, however,
he mistakenly labelled as saltarelli, despite their apparent proportion.2 This error will be corrected
here.
Furthermore, Gombosi only acknowledged the dance component in his study insofar as the
proportions among the different Italian misure were concerned, but he did not discuss the steps of
the dance.3 The variety of extant choreographies for La Spagna are equally important, however, for
they also attest to distinct Franco-Burgundian and Italian traditions, including cross-pollination of
the two (e.g., French choreographies in Italian sources). As the only surviving witness to the
complete evolution of the genre, in music and in movement, to a point in time well past its heyday,
La Spagna will serve here to map this development.
The sole dance tenor to survive in both Italian and Franco-Burgundian dance manuals is La
Spagna. Whether it derives from some hitherto undiscovered song model or originated as a dance
tune, its origins are yet unknown. But it was evidently quite popular in Italian courts already by the
mid-fifteenth century, appearing in V (ca. 1455-60)—the earliest source to preserve the Spagna
1 Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” xxxvi-lxiii. 2 For the metrical distinction between the bassadanza and saltarello, see Ch. 4, pp. 87-89. 3 On the proportions among the misure, see Ch. 1.1.A.ii.
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melody—as “Tenore del Re di spagna” (fig. 6.1), the first of three bassadanza and saltarello tenors
considered to be “the best, and most used of all [the others].”4 This source provides no
accompanying choreography, however. The tenor comprises mostly equal, perfect semibreves under
the mensuration sign , with the sole exception of the cadential figure that ends the first phrase (la–
sol–fa–mi–re–re), adding up to a total of 45 distinct principal notes, or 23 tempi (i.e., breves worth of
time).5 (I will refer to the note numbers labelled in figures 6.1 and 6.2 throughout this study.) The
phrases of “La Spagna” are, for the most part, clearly discernable, punctuated at each cadential
resolution by a strong–weak pair of notes on the cadence final.6 But, exactly as one finds in the
contemporaneous song repertory, the elision or imbrication of phrases makes for a melody that
perpetually advances. For example, semibreve 8 (the second of the pair of ds) simultaneously ends
the first phrase and launches the second. Thus, just as the dance “begins the tempo in the vuodo,” so
begin the musical phrases in the arsis or rising beat of the tempus, perpetuating the musical and,
consequently, choreographic motion.
7 To the overall diatonic nature of the melody, Cornazano adds
“flat” inflections to specify fa on notes (counting semibreves) 9, 14, and 30: the first on f is
redundant, the second on b is a melodic prescription—an unnecessary melodic choice—and the
third, again on b, is cautionary this time, reminding the musician to place a fa here in order to avoid a
tritone leap from the preceding f. He also adds a “sharp” sign to indicate mi on note 16, stipulating a
leading tone (cantus function) of a cadence rising to d’. Finally, following the presentation of the
three “best, and most used” tenors in V, Cornazano explains the typical behavior of tenor notes in
the “imperial bassadanza misura; in which every note doubles in value, threes are worth six and sixes,
4 Cornazano, fol. 32r; quoted and translated in Smith, 1:106. 5 This cadence model sets the stage for the treatment of the tenor’s structural cadences in later settings, as we shall see.
6 The term “cadence final” refers to the unison or octave pitch(es) to which the voices with the cantus and tenor
function resolve. On cadential features of the dance tenors, see Ch. 3, pp. 55-56. 7 “Nota che la bassadanza la quale e de mazor imperfect se comenza el suo tempo in lo vuodo e compisse in lo
pieno”; from Pd, transcribed and translated in Smith, 1:16-17. For vuodo and pieno, see chapter 1.1.A.i.
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z

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twelve.”8 This “rule” is applied in all surviving fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century settings of the
Spagna tenor, bassedanze and basses danses alike.
Figure 6.2: “Casulle la novele [Castille la nouvelle] a xlvi notes a cincq mesures comme il appert,”
Toulouze, no. 10
(note numbers added above and below)
The same melody first surfaces among basse danse tenors in Toulouze several decades later as
“Casulle la novele” (fig. 6.2)—certainly meant, as Gombosi asserted, to read “Castille la nouvelle”
(“The New Castilian [Dance]”)—this time accompanied by its choreography.
9 Here, the tenor
appears in equal, blackened breves under the implied mensuration sign , which ultimately equate to
imperfect breves in —double those note values given by Cornazano. The title specifies 46 notes
for the five mesures, but neither the breves (42) nor the steps (44) add up to forty-six. The four final
notes (the final cadence) of the tune are missing but may easily be inferred as re-mi-re-re, from
Cornazano’s version, extant polyphonic settings, and typical cadential behavior found among basse
8 “Quarta e la Bassadança misura Imperiale dove ogni nota si radoppia et le tre vagliono sei et le sei dodeci….” V, fol.
34r. Transcribed and translated in Smith 1:106; translation adapted from Smith. 9 Toulouze, fol. A5r. Otto Gombosi first voiced the notion of the misprint in Toulouze; see, Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic
Basse Dance,” 197, and again in Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” xli.
5 10 15 20
25 30 35 40
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
O
C
Z
∫
W
w
h
c
ç
o
ø
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danse tenors.10 When added, the tune exactly resembles that notated by Cornazano but has simplified
the end of phrase 1 to its elemental components as fa–mi–re–re (notes 5-8). This version also omits
all of the accidentals, with the exception, as Crane supposed, of the floating flat before note 30
(which appears as a compressed note d’).
11 These are clear examples of the mistakes and omissions
that Toulouze presents, as mentioned earlier. Additionally, the nature of the printing process in two
different passes (one for red ink and one for black), yields an often-imprecise result when black note
heads need to align with red staff lines, as is made evident by notes 17-18, 37, and 39, for example.
Finally, the c’-clef after notes 1 and 2 should precede them so that they read a–a (rather than e’–e’).
R b ss d d d d d r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d d d r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d r r r b|
The steps of the Toulouze choreography as printed (given above) coalesce to form five
mesures: grande imparfaite – petite parfaite – grande imparfaite – petite parfaite – moyenne imparfaite. As stated,
the steps only total 44 in number as they stand. Two plausible solutions have been posited. Jackman
suggested that the final mesure also be grande imparfaite, which would complete the alternating pattern
of grandes and petites mesures thus:12
R b ss d d d d d r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d d d r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d [d d] r r r b|
Crane acknowledged Jackman’s emendation as “credible for the symmetry it gives the mesures” but
rather proposed making the first and third mesures parfaites, an alternative that favors according the
mesures more closely with two other sources, Salisbury and Cervera (see below):13
R b ss d d d d d [ss] r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d d d [ss] r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d r r r b|
grande parfaite – petite parfaite – grande parfaite – petite parfaite – moyenne imparfaite
10 See Ch. 6, n6 above. Bukofzer claimed the final four notes were errantly printed at the end of the previous tenor, Le
ioyeulx espoyr (Toulouze, no. 9), one step too low (c–d–c–c), but these notes correspond to the end of Flourentine
(Toulouze, no. 23 and Br9085, no. 38), which presents the exact same melody as Le ioyeulx espoyr repeated and a step
higher in tone 1 with a d final. Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic Basse Dance,” 198. 11 Crane, Materials, 73. 12 James L. Jackman, ed., Fifteenth-Century Basse Dances: Brussels Bibl. Roy. MS. 9085 Collated with Michel Toulouze’s L’art et
instruction de bien dancer (Wellesley, MA: Wellesley College, 1964), 35.
13 Crane, Materials, 73-74.

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For the purposes of this study, I will adopt this latter reconstruction that uses La Spagna to trace the
development of independent Italian bassadanza and Franco-Burgundian basse danse traditions.
The Spagna tenor survives in nearly 250 distinct polyphonic settings—the majority of which
are framed as counterpoint exercises—from the mid-fifteenth to early seventeenth centuries.14 They
appear in many guises: bicinia and tricinia of a presumed improvisational nature for small ensembles
or intabulated for lute or organ solo; highly curated fantasias in intricate, close imitation for three,
four, and even five voices; counterpoint exercises; mass movements; and one motet. If the earlier
settings have clear ties (for the most part) to the accompanying dance, by the time it reached the
seventeenth century, musicians and dancers alike no longer knew how the tune had initially served
and, for that matter, had completely lost touch with the entire basse danse/bassadanza genre. Music
theorist and composer Ludovico Zacconi, writing in 1622, for instance, gives examples of Festa’s
counterpoints on La Spagna but could not identify the tune or make sense of why their “cantus
firmus … is called ‘Bascia’”15 Similarly, two years prior in his Discorso sopra il Ballo, Filippo degli
Alessandri cites the “Bassa di Spagna” among “dances which have gone out of fashion and ‘which
none of us [today] has even heard of.’”16
14 Gombosi was the first to trace the development of the Spagna tenor and make a tally of the pieces in “The Cantus
Firmus Dances,” lxii-lxiii, where he derived a total of 361 compositions, considering “lost” Costanzo Festa’s 120
contrapunti. Richard Agee brought to light that Festa’s counterpoints, which actually total 125, were not in fact lost but
copied as the first of a total of 157 counterpoints over La Spagna by Giovanni Maria Nanino (ca. 1545–1607) in what is
now Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale MS C36 (1602); see Richard J. Agee, “Costanzo Festa’s Gradus ad
Parnassum,” Early Music History 15 (1996): 1-58. This discovery reduced the total number of known settings to 241. In a
paper, “‘Le basse sono bone per imparare a cantar a contraponto’: Costanzo Festa’s Counterpoints on La Spagna in the
Light of a Newly Rediscovered Source,” recently given at the fiftieth annual meeting of the International Medieval and
Renaissance Music Conference, Uppsala, July 4, 2022, Philippe Canguilhem shed light on a much earlier manuscript
source (ca. 1510) of Festa’s contrapunti, Rome, Biblioteca Vallicelliana MS O30, which, when collated with Bologna C36,
brings the total number of Festa’s counterpoints to 132 and, consequently, the total number of settings of La Spagna to
248.
15 “Nota che il superior Canto fermo fatto di Breve chiamandosi Bascia, non hò potuto investigare per che lo chiami cosi, ed habbia tal
denominatione”; Ludovico Zacconi, Prattica di musica seconda parte (Venice: Alessandro Vicenti, 1622), 199; the passage in
question is discussed, transcribed, and translated in Agee, “Costanzo Festa’s Gradus ad Parnassum,” 2-4. In the 1620; 16 Barbara Sparti, “Would You like to Dance This Frottola? Choreographic Concordances in Two Early SixteenthCentury Tuscan Sources,” Musica disciplina 50 (1996): 135-65 at 149 incl. n61.

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Over its lifetime, the Spagna tenor underwent various melodic and rhythmic alterations. In
his study of the fifteenth-century basse danse, Raymond Meylan wrote about a living tradition of the
passage of dance tenors from one musician to another (“de proche en proche”).17 Such musical
transmission is corroborated by the known existence of annual minstrel congresses held during Lent
where musicians from across the European continent would gather to share the latest songs from
their respective regions.18 Meylan believed that this oral tradition of transmission explains the
melodic variations that occur over time, in the same way that concordant versions of fifteenthcentury chansons may differ slightly (especially at cadential passages) from one source to another.
Considering the longevity of the popularity of La Spagna, however, its melodic evolution is rather
modest, especially in comparison to the variations among choreographies bearing the same or a
similar title. Like the musical settings, a fair number of choreographies for this dance survive in
fifteenth- and sixteenth-century dance collections and manuals, but no two choreographies appear
identically. Of all the remaining forms of the dance, only Toulouze provides a choreography with its
tenor. Otherwise, the sources only give either music or choreography(-ies).
For modern practitioners of historically informed performance, the main question is, how
can we use these isolated choreographies or musical settings to reconstruct the dance in sound and
movement? Singling out three basse danse tenors with surviving polyphonic settings—“La Spagna,”
“Le petit rouen,” and “Filles a marier”—Anthony Rooley conceded that the surviving music may
never have served to animate a ball, lamenting, “Unfortunately, the polyphonic settings do not work
very comfortably for dancing and it may well be that they were never used in this way but stood as
‘art’ settings alone.”19 He went on to state, “The music for [fifteenth-century] French basses danses
17 Meylan, L’énigme de la musique des basses danses, 63-64. 18 Rob C. Wegman, “The Minstrel School in the Late Middle Ages,” Historic Brass Society Journal 14 (2002): 11-30 at 11-14. 19 For this and the following quote, see Anthony Rooley, “Dance and Dance Music of the Sixteenth Century,” Early
Music 2, no. 2 (April 1974): 79-83 at 80.

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is therefore highly problematical, resting on an improvising tradition which will be difficult to
reconstruct.” Do we content ourselves with Rooley’s caution? Or do we persevere, endeavoring to
reconstruct the dance with the surviving materials available to us?
The “lost” improvisation tradition, although largely beyond the scope of this dissertation,
notably has its vestiges in the surviving polyphonic settings of basse danse tenors. Drawing on
remarks at a panel discussion of fifteenth-century dance and music traditions, Ernest Ferand
ardently defended the adeptness of historical musicians to improvise, stating,
I disagree … with all those scholars who, although they admit the importance of improvised
music in general and of improvisation in the basse dance in particular, feel that
improvisation necessarily implies primitive and inartistic music. Willi Apel, for instance, in
his article “A Remark about the Basse Danse” mentions Kotter’s versions of the Spagna as
truly improvised music, simply because there are so many parallel fifths and octaves. I
believe … that improvisation in this period could be quite elaborate. Zarlino presents quite
complex improvisational settings. Calvisius observes that there are many musicians who can
improvise counterpoints and fugues. Since this is difficult to do, he gives about twenty
examples of how it might be done. The fact is, however, that it was done. In German
theoretical literature of the period, such improvisation was known as “sortisatio”; and the
obscure writer Joachim Thüring (Thuringus) observes, in the early part of the seventeenth
century, that an example would be something like the Stabat mater of Josquin des Près. Now
one could hardly imagine anything more complex contrapuntally than this piece, which has a
cantus firmus in the middle voice, with imitative parts above and below. In the light of this, I
see no reason why the various examples of polyphonic basse dance given by Bukofzer and
Gombosi should not be patterns for improvised elaborations of the melody.20
I certainly agree with Ferand that it is unfair to dismiss improvised music as sounding contrapuntally
“primitive.” Of the example he cites, Hans Kotter’s “Spaniol Kochersberg” (Basel, Öffentliche
Bibliothek der Universität, MSS F.IX.22, fols. 100r-101v and F.IX.58, fols. 14r-v; see fig. 6.3), Apel
agreed with Wilhelm Merian that the parallel perfect sonorities (i.e., octaves, fifths, and fourths) as a
20 In Otto Kinkeldey, “Dance Tunes of the Fifteenth Century,” in Instrumental Music: A Conference at Isham Memorial
Library, May 4, 1957, edited by David Grattan Hughes (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1959), 3-30 at 27. On
sortisatio, see Ernest T. Ferand, “‘Sodaine and Unexpected’ Music in the Renaissance,” Musical Quarterly 37, no. 1 (January
1951): 10-27. Ferand’s references to Bukofzer and Gombosi concern Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic Basse Dance of the
Renaissance,” and Otto Gombosi, “About Dance and Dance Music in the Late Middle Ages,” Music Quarterly 27, no. 3
(July 1941): 289-305.

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form of “improvisation method for dance music” over the tenor melody in the lowest voice were
perhaps informed by Medieval organum, “the earliest and most primitive method of polyphony.”21
Figure 6.3: Hans Kotter, “Spaniol Kochersberg,” mm. 1-8
From Wilhelm Merian, Der Tanz in den deutschen Tabulaturbüchern: Mit thematischen Verzeichnissen, Beispielen zur
Intavolationspraxis und einer Studie über die Anfänge des Klavierstils (Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1927), 46
In the corpus of Spagna settings, or of any extant settings of dance tenors, such contrapuntal
treatment is an outlier, especially considering Kotter’s other Spagna setting, “Spanieler” (Basel
F.IX.22, fols. 42v-44r; see fig. 6.12), which largely frames the tune in the tenor with decimae (florid
passages of parallel tenths) between the outer voices, contrapuntally sound and completely idiomatic
for the time.22 André Pirro suggested that the “Spaniol Kochersberg” was perhaps a product of or,
rather, in imitation of the unrefined musical tastes of the region in Alsace to which the piece owes its
name: “The people of Kochersberg enjoy living as in bygone times. They scorn all fine things as
much as all that is new. To win them over, one must scoff at civility, be intentionally vulgar, and
21 Willi Apel, “A Remark about the Basse Danse,” Journal of Renaissance and Baroque Music 1, no. 2 (June 1946): 139-43 at
141; Apel refers to and quotes Wilhelm Merian, who characterized this setting as “musically incomprehensible, with its
incessant, always turning parallel fourths, fifths, octaves, which remind one of the old organum, rigid and lifeless, aurally
unsatisfactory” (my translation); Wilhelm Merian, Die Tabulaturen des Organisten Hans Kotter: ein Beitrag zur Musikgeschichte des
Beginnenden 16. Jahrhunderts (1916; repr. Amsterdam: Frits Knuf, 1973), 79. On the increasing avoidance of fourths in
three-voice compositions in the second half of the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, see Charles Warren Fox,
“Non-Quartal Harmony in the Renaissance,” The Musical Quarterly 31, no. 1 (January 1945): 33-53. 22 On the preeminence of decimae in compositions of this period, see Fox, “Non-Quartal Harmony in the Renaissance,”
42-44.

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dress in old rags.”23 While perhaps an exaggeration, the blatant disregard for contrapuntal rules and
decidedly antiquated parallel harmonies in the “Spaniol Kochersberg” makes it unlike any other
setting of a dance tenor from the fifteenth or early sixteenth century.
The only pieces that approach the harmonic brashness of “Spaniol Kochersberg,” yet still
maintain a certain respect for contemporary rules of counterpoint, are the trio of dances from Tr87,
“Du pist mein hort” (fol. 109r; see fig. 3.4), “Auxce bon youre delabonestren” (fols. 117v-18r), and
Tyling’s “Tandernaken” (fol. 198v-99r).
24 As Ross Duffin has noted, these pieces, like the notated
fifteenth-century Spagna settings that we will explore, might best be qualified as “‘frozen’
improvisations.”25 As likely examples of polyphonic improvisation, or, as Johannes Tinctoris refers
to it, “absolute counterpoint” (what Ferand referred to as “sortisatio,” following sixteenth-century
Germanic sources)26—“the sodaine, and unexpected ordering of a plaine Song [although in these
cases, a dance tenor] by divers Melodies by chance”27—they present instances of contradiscordantia, a
phenomenon in which, as Anonymous XI explains, “the contratenor is consonant with the tenor,
but not always with the discant, … inasmuch as the contratenor may take the fifth while the discant
takes the sixth, making a second, etc.”28 Such dissonances, which can arise as a matter of
23 “Ces gens du Kochersberg aiment à vivre comme au temps jadis. Ils méprisent ce qui est délicat, autant que ce qui est
neuf. Pour les charmer, il faut narguer la politesse, être vulgaire avec intention, et s’affubler d’une antique défroque.”
André Pirro, “Deux danses anciennes,” Revue de musicologie 5, no. 9 (February 1924): 7-16 at 12. 24 See Ross W. Duffin, “The trompette des menestrels in the 15th-Century alta capella,” Early Music 17, no. 3 (August 1989):
397-402 at 399-400; Polk, German Instrumental Music of the Late Middle Ages, 152-53; Gilbert, “Reverse Engineering
Fifteenth-Century Counterpoint,” 186-87. 25 Duffin, “Ensemble Improvisation,” 199. Adam Gilbert explored the contrapuntal techniques employed in these pieces
by applying solmization in “The ‘Slide Trumpet Years’,” 21-23, and he went on to discuss contrapuntal style in the
Spagna settings “Falla con misuras” and “Alta” (see below), deriving a newly imagined early fifteenth-century three-voice
setting of La Spagna in the style of the Tr87 pieces (pp. 24-29). 26 Johannes Tinctoris, The Art of Counterpoint (Liber de arte contrapuncti), trans. & ed. Albert Seay (n.p.: American Institute of
Musicology, 1961), 103. 27 Andreas Ornithoparcus, His Micrologus or Introduction: Containing the Art of Singing, “digested into foure bookes” by John
Dowland (London: Thomas Adams, 1609), 77.
28 “contratenor concordat cum tenore et non semper cum discantu, quia bene potest fieri in contratenore
contradiscordancia, quatenus verum contratenor habeat quintam quum discantus habeat sextam, quia esset secunda,
etc.”; Richard Joseph Wingell, “Anonymous XI (CSIII): An Edition, Translation, and Commentary,” (PhD diss.,
University of Southern California, 1973), 146, 320. For a full discussion of the contrapuntal behavior in these and other
similar pieces, see Duffin, “Ensemble Improvisation,” 196-201.

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happenstance when improvised voices correctly follow the rules of consonant counterpoint to the
tenor, were certainly tolerated, as Tinctoris makes clear in his remarks on the subject: “with two or
three, four or many, harmonizing super librum, one is not subject to the other, for, indeed, it suffices
that each of them make consonances with the tenor with those things that pertain to the law and
arrangement of concords.”29 But he goes on to say, “I do not, however, think it disgraceful, but
rather most laudable, if, agreeing among themselves on a similarity of assumption and arrangement
of concords, they sing prudently, or thus they make of their harmonizing a fuller and more suave
[effect].” Taking pains to avoid even the tolerable contradiscordantia would have been a welcome
effort.
The result of a more carefully planned collective improvisation likely approaches what we
find in Spagna settings from the second half of the fifteenth century, such as Francisco de la Torre’s
Alta (see fig. 6.10 below).30 Here, as in subsequent settings from the early sixteenth century, the
deliberate contrapuntal treatment is no different from what we would encounter in any definite,
crafted compositions (res facta) from the period, where all of the voices added to an existent tenor are
“mutually interdependent,” as Tinctoris states, “so that the order and law of concords of any part in
relation to themselves and all the others should be observed.”31 This is especially true of the close,
intricate imitation found in some of the basse danse settings of La Spagna ca. 1500, to which Ferand
nods at the end of the quotation above on p. 121. He does, however, avoid making an important
distinction between collective polyphonic improvisation, where several musicians simultaneously
create counterpoint super librum, and several polyphonic voices improvised at once by an individual at
the keyboard or on a plucked instrument. Ferand only seems to refer to the latter, where the
29 For this and the following quote, see Tinctoris, The Art of Counterpoint, 105. Cantare super librum, or “singing upon the
book,” was the term used for vocal counterpoint improvised to plainchant. 30 Duffin uses the Alta as a prime example of the sort of collective improvisation that can stem from rules of
counterpoint being carefully employed, as well as standard, tried-and-true cadential formulae; for his discussion of this
piece, see “Ensemble Improvisation,” 196-201. 31 Tinctoris, The Art of Counterpoint, 103.

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possibility of avoiding dissonances and parallel perfect sonorities is simpler since one person with a
global view of the counterpoint is responsible. This distinction may explain the contrapuntal variety
among the surviving polyphonic models of La Spagna, but, as Ferand noted, they all existed and can
be used as a historical basis for modern reconstructions, whether composed or improvised. The
techniques involved in collective improvisation have been explored to an increasing extent in writing
and tested in practice in modern times.
32 This scholarly and practical work is mutually stimulating; it
fuels our collective understanding for how historical ensemble improvisation occurred and our
ability to recreate it. And the Spagna tenor is to thank for the largest body of repertoire that we have
at our disposal to study improvisation techniques for reconstructing musical performances of
bassedanze and basses danses.
32 On collective instrumental improvisation for dance music, see Keith Polk, “Flemish Wind Bands in the Late Middle
Ages: A Study of Improvisatory Instrumental Practices,” (PhD diss., University of California, Berkeley, 1968); Polk,
German Instrumental Music of the Late Middle, esp. 163-213; and Polk, “Instrumentalists and Performance Practices in Dance
Music, c. 1500,” in Improvisation in the Arts of the Middle Ages and Renaissance, ed. Timothy J. McGee (Kalamazoo: Medieval
Institute Publications, 2003): 98-114; Lorenz Welker, “Alta capella: Zur Ensemblepraxis der Blasinstrumente im 15.
Jahrhundert,” Basler Jahrbuch für historische Musikpraxis 7 (1983), 119-65 esp. 149-65; Duffin, “Ensemble Improvisation”;
Crawford Young, “The King of Spain – ‘una bassadanza troppo forte,’” in Lute Society of America Quarterly 48, No. 1/2
(2013): 40-61; Gilbert, “The Improvising Alta capella, ca. 1500,” and Gilbert, “Reverse Engineering Fifteenth-Century
Counterpoint”; Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances.” On vocal improvisation, see Ross W. Duffin, “Simplex
et Diminutus: Polyphonic Improvisation for Voices in the Fifteenth Century,” Basler Jahrbuch für historiche Musikpraxis 31
(2007): 69-90; Philippe Canguilhem, “Singing upon the Book According to Vicente Lusitano,” Early Music History 30
(2011): 55-103, and “Improvisation as Concept and Musical Practice in the Fifteenth Century,” in The Cambridge History of
Fifteenth-Century Music, ed. Anna Maria Busse Berger and Jesse Rodin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2015):
149-63, and “Towards a Stylistic History of cantare super librum,” Studies in Historical Improvisation: From Cantare super
librum to Partimenti, ed. Massimiliano Guido (London and New York: Routledge, 2017): 55-71; Guiseppe Fiorentino,
“Contrapunto and fabordón: Practices of Extempore Polyphonic in Renaissance Spain,” Studies in Historical Improvisation:
From Cantare super librum to Partimenti, ed. Massimiliano Guido (London and New York: Routledge, 2017): 72-89.
For a few practical examples in performance, see Music from the Court of Burgundy, Ciaramella (CD, Yarlung Records,
YAR 05785, 2011); Bassadanze, balli e canzoni ‘a la ferrarese’: italienische Instrumentalmusik der Frührenaissance, Alta Capella und
Citharedi der Schola Cantorum Basiliensis dir. Crawford Young and Randall Cook (CD, Deutsche Harmonia Mundi,
GD 77243, 1984, reissued 1991), and Forse che sí, forse che no: Dance Music in the Quattrocentro, Ferrara Ensemble dir.
Crawford Young (CD, Fonti Musicali, FMD182, 1996). Young, along with Markus Jans, supervised the counterpoint
recreations on De arte saltandi: Die Tänze des Domenico da Piacenza (ca. 1450), Basel Domenico Project dir. Véronique
Daniels (CD, Terem-Music, EM-CD-001, 2015). Dulcis melancolia: Biographie musicale de Marguerite d’Autriche, Capilla
Flamenca dir. Dirk Snellings (CD, Musique en Wallonie, MEW0525, 2006). Guillaume Dufay, L’Alta Bellezza (CD,
Arcana, A122, 2021); Kaiser Maximilian I.: Lieder, Chansons, Tänze, Per-Sonat (CD, Christophorus, CHR 7748, 2019);
Paradisi Porte: Hans Memling’s Angelic Concert, Tiburtina Ensemble and Oltremontano Antwerpen (CD, Accent, ACC
24373, 2021); Villon to Rabelais: 16th-Century Music of the Streets, Theatres, and Courts, Newberry Consort dir. Mary Springfels
(CD, Harmonia Mundi, HMU 907226, 1999).

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This brings me back to my first question following Rooley’s claim presented above: do we
accept his concession that “the polyphonic settings do not work very comfortably for dancing and it
may well be that they were never used in this way but stood as ‘art’ settings alone”? Thirty years
prior to this statement, Apel had said of several settings of La Spagna, “These examples are
interesting not only as different contrapuntal elaborations of one and the same dance tenor, but also
because they illustrate different stages of the process of transmutation, leading from actual dance
music to idealized types of purely musical interest; in other words, leading from the dance hall to the
music room.”33 While I agree that the settings that Apel cited—de la Torre’s “Alta,” the “Spaniol”
pieces in Hans Kotter’s keyboard books, and one of the “bassedanze” in Francesco Spinacino’s lute
books, all discussed below—indeed show an arc in compositional process, I do not agree that the
shift from dance hall to music room was due to contrapuntal virtuosity but, rather, a change in
meter. Challenging Rooley’s skepticism, and Apel’s conjecture, let us consider the historical sources
of La Spagna in order to piece together the divergent traditions of the Italian bassadanza and the
Franco-Burgundian basse danse through the wealth of extant musical examples and choreographies
from the genre’s golden age (until ca. 1540) to prove that there are steps that indeed fit the “art”
settings, which were not necessarily confined to the “music room” alone.
6.1. EARLY BASSADANZA SETTINGS OF LA SPAGNA
The earliest surviving setting of La Spagna appears as a duo in Per431 (fols. 95v-96r) with the title
“Falla con misuras” (“Fault/Mistake with Proportions”) and attributed to “M. Gulielmus,” who
Manfred Bukofzer wishfully suggested could be none other than the Italian dance master, Guglielmo
Ebreo.34 The same music appears again (compared in fig. 6.4), slightly later, in Q16 (fols. 59v-60r)
33 Apel, “A Remark about the Basse Danse,” 141-42. 34 Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic Basse Dance,” 196. I have found no further evidence for or against this suggestion, but I
would like to believe that someone so prominent in the history of dance, like Guglielmo, would be the composer to

127
Figure 6.4: Concordant two-voice settings of La Spagna
A: M. Gulielmus, “Falla con misuras,” Per431, fols. 95v-96r
B: Anon., “La bassa castiglya,” Q16, fols. 59v-60r
whom we could attribute this composition. For a modern edition of this composition, see Bregman and Gilbert,
“Appendix 6,” 341-42.

128
bearing the title “La bassa castiglya” (“The Castilian bassa[danza]”). In both cases, the tenor proceeds
in equal, perfect semibreves under the mensuration sign , and any two subsequent, repeated
pitches from Cornazano’s version have been fused together as a breve, totaling 23 tempi. As a result,
we lose the sense of elided phrases discussed above. Here, the breves mark definite phrase endings
but do not lend themselves, at first glance, to propelling the musical line forwards. In this way, the
tenor crystalizes as a blatantly structural foundation: each tempo or pair of tempi is clearly delineated in
the form of a ligature, and breves mark and punctuate the phrase endings. The one “ornamented”
cadential passage found in the first phrase of Cornazano’s version has been simplified here, as in
Toulouze, to its elemental parts: semibreves (5 and 6) on f and e. The accidentals have all been
removed, including the cautionary flat on note 30, which any initiated musician would have intuited
in the first place. Their absence on semibreves 14 and 16, however, certainly changes the color of
the tune here and offers different contrapuntal opportunities for the added voice(s).
Above the tenor soars a highly florid cantus voice that abounds with rhythmic play against
and across the time in , which Ross Duffin has described as “jazzy” and Anthony Baines, before
him, colorfully referred to as, “what can only be described as a hot chorus.”35 Since one perfect
breve (three semibreves) of the cantus equates a perfect semibreve of the tenor, the latter effectively
doubles in length: three minims of the tenor are worth six of the cantus. Gombosi, convinced that
the tenor notes of a bassadanza had to be twice doubled to equate imperfect longs in within his
composite “Bassadanza-Bassedanse” genre, mistakenly categorized this composition as a saltarello, “in
spite of its title in Q16 describing it as a “bassa.”36 But the key difference between a saltarello and a
35 Duffin, “Ensemble Improvisation,” 196; Anthony Baines, Woodwind Instruments and Their History, 3rd ed. (London:
Faber and Faber, 1967), 233. 36 Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” xli. I admit that I, too, wondered if there was some question as to which
misura it actually belonged considering its title in Per431, meaning “fault/failure with proportions.” I suspect that the title
could allude to the fact that the cantus often seems as if its metrical phrasing is that of compound duple, which would
create a hemiola effect in its notated mensuration if there were another voice with values smaller than the tenor against
which to make the hemiola.
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bassadanza is proportion and pulse. The duple proportion between the tenor and any added voices is
integral to the bassadanza, not the saltarello. Furthermore, given the proportional difference in pulse
between the two misure—where the saltarello is one-third quicker than the bassadanza—if the cantus’
semibreves were played at 120 bpm considering “Falla con misuras” as a bassadanza (which is
arguably too fast already from a musical standpoint), one would beat the semibreves at 160 bpm for
the saltarello misura, making the cantus’ chorus far too hot and lacking all musical sense! Thus, with
respect to mensuration, proportion, and pulse, the voices of “Falla con misuras”/“La bassa
castiglya” behave precisely as they are meant to in the bassadanza misura.
While “Falla con misuras” seems clearly to represent “the type of improvised dance music
… that sources record so rarely, precisely because it was improvised,” two further bassadanza duo
settings of La Spagna seem much more didactic in nature.37 As part of an assemblage of treatises on
music and mathematics compiled by one Johannes Materanensis in 1509—Perugia, Biblioteca
Comunale Augusta, MS 1013—these two settings join other compositions used to illustrate the
intricacies of rhythmic proportions of the treatise on proportions (Regule de proportionibus. Cum suis
exemplis, fols. 78r-123r).
38 As in “Falla con misuras,” both give the tenor in 23 tempi (45 notes). These
two examples, however, realize the duple proportion between the tenor and cantus typical of
bassadanza by notating both voices in with perfect breves (and longs as the elision of two
subsequent notes on the same pitch) in the tenor. While the second setting (fol. 102v; see fig. 6.5B)
demands no fewer than eleven proportional changes in the upper voice, digging a little further into
the rhythmic gymnastics briefly expounded on in the treatise, we find that the first setting (fol. 100v;
37 Bukofzer, “A Polyphonic Basse Dance,” 200. On the didactic nature of the two duos in questions, see Gombosi, “The
Cantus Firmus Dances,” xli, and Dietrich Kämper, “Das Lehr- und Instrumentalduo um 1500 in Italien,” Die
Musikforschung 18, no. 3 (July/September 1965): 242-53 at 243. 38 Both settings appear transcribed in Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” xli-xliii. For details of Perugia MS 1013,
see Albert Seay, “An Ave maris stella by Johannes Stochem,” Revue belge de musicologie / Belgisch Tijdschrift voor
Muziekwetenschap 11, no. 3/4 (1957): 93-108, esp. 93-96, and Bonnie J. Blackburn, “A Lost Guide to Tinctoris’ Teachings
Recovered,” Early Music History 1 (1981): 29-116 at 31-45.
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Figure 6.5: La Spagna settings in Perugia, Biblioteca Comunale Augusta, MS 1013
A: Fol. 100v

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B: Fol. 102v

132
see fig. 6.5A) only explores 4:3 and 9:3, beyond the running lines of semiminims in , as found in
“Falla con misuras.” Varying degrees of rhythmic complexities aside, all three settings of La Spagna
as a bassadanza give the tenor as it appears in Cornazano, for all intents and purposes, and, therefore,
could practicably serve to set an accompanying choreography in motion.
Figure 6.6: “Falla con misuras” with the choreography “El bayli de Spagna” underlaid
(NB: “b” is substituted for the original “9”; see Ch. 5, p. 99)
At the 2022 International Medieval and Renaissance Music Conference (MedRen 50), I
presented a paper, “Songs without Steps and Steps without Songs: The Problems of Recreating a
Fifteenth-Century Dance,” in which I mapped the 23 step-units of “El bayli de Spagna” from the
1517 Stribaldi Roll (Turin, Archivio di Stato, Archivio Biscaretti, mazzo 4, no. 14) to the 23 breves
of “Falla con misuras” (see fig. 6.6). Despite the close correlation, “the problem,” as I noted during
the presentation, “is that we have a choreography that behaves like that of a later basse danse in its
arrangement of steps set to a tune conceived of as a bassadanza.”39 As a sixteenth-century basse danse
(incommune), the Stribaldi choreography should accompany a tune that is no longer isometric,
silhouetted by long notes (see Ch. 5.1.B). Furthermore, as an equally glaring issue that I had
39 Adam Bregman, “Songs without Steps and Steps without Songs: The Problems of Recreating a Fifteenth-Century
Dance” (paper presented at the 50th annual meeting of the International Medieval and Renaissance Music Conference,
Uppsala, July 5, 2022).
Stribaldi Choreography for “El baile de Spagna”
Set to M. Guglielmus’ Falla con misuras
R b s s d s s r d r b s s d d d
r b ss d s s r d s s r b
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overlooked at the time, the Stribaldi choreography would be completed by a moitié of twelve more
step-units (see Ch. 5, pp. 103-104), yielding the following 35 steps:
R 9 ss d ss r d r 9|ss d d d r 9|ss d ss r d ss r 9|9 d r 9|ss d d d r d r 940
Even though “Falla con misuras” does not contain 35 breves, the choreography could technically fit
all the same. Following Arbeau’s example of “Jouyssance vous donneray” and Arena’s instructions
(see Ch. 5.1.B.), the last step of the main choreography (here, step-unit 23 at the end of the third
mesure) would coincide with the end of the tune, which was then repeated in its entirety to
accommodate the remaining moitié. These steps should correspond to the second half of the tune,
since the first half would have been used as “travel music” for the couple dancing to return to their
initial point of departure. Regardless, the initial problem that I noted of matching later basse danse
steps to music for a bassadanza provides sufficient grounds for deeming this pairing incompatible.
Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q18—likely copied in Bologna ca. 1502-
05 and probably intended for an instrumental ensemble such as the esteemed Concerto palatino della
Signoria or even the members of the Signoria themselves or other adept aristocratic amateur
musicians—contains two four-voice bassadanza settings of the Spagna tenor.41 The first of these (fig.
6.7) gives the tenor (lowest staff on fol. 48v) exactly as it appears in “Falla con misuras”/“La bassa
castiglya,” here separated again into distinct semibreves, as given by Cornazano and which add to 23
tempi, and transposed to the fourth above, still in tone 1 but with a g final. Despite the erroneous
mensuration signs, with in the tenor and in the accompanying voices, this setting behaves
40 Choreography transcription from Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 136-39. Stribaldi gives three different variants for
the moitié, the first of which I have given above since it corresponds exactly to that given by Arena and Arbeau, and
nearly the same as Moderne’s first residu (see Ch. 5, p. 104n34). Stribaldi’s second version is unique to its source: 9 d d d r
9|ss d r d r 9. The third alternative closely resembles Moderne’s second residu, replacing the opening “R” in Moderne
with a branle: 9 d r 9|ss d r 9|ss [d] r 9. Stribaldi only gives 11 step-units, so I have supplied the antepenultimate step
using Moderne’s text.
41 On the provenance, dating, content, and practical context of Q18, see Susan Forscher Weiss, “Bologna Q 18: Some
Reflections on Content and Context,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 41, no. 1 (Spring 1988): 63-101, and
Bologna Q18: Civico museo bibliograficomusicale (olim 143), introduction by Susan Forscher Weiss (Peer: Alamire, 1998), 5-6,
12.
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Figure 6.7: “La Spagna,” Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q18, fols. 48v-49r
(voices labeled)
exactly like the two-voice setting, where a perfect semibreve of the tenor equals a perfect breve of
the other voices. The cantus line of this setting is no less active than in “Falla con misuras,” and also
spans the range of a thirteenth, but here the mainly linear runs are displaced by multiple octave
leaps. These same features characterize the altus and bassus voices, resulting in passages in parallel
thirds and tenths between any two of the added voices at nearly any given point throughout the
piece.
The mensuration signs have been corrected to show the 2:1 relationship between the outer
voices in and the tenor in in the second Spagna setting in Q18 (fig. 6.8), which uses a unique
Altus
Cantus
Tenor
Bassus
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Figure 6.8: “La Spagna,” Bologna, Civico Museo Bibliografico Musicale, MS Q18, fols. 49v-50r
(voices labeled)
adaptation of the tenor, once again with a d final and with repeated notes on the same pitch fused
into breves.42 The cantus anticipates the tenor entrance, which is postponed by a breve rest, by
stating the first four notes of the melody, la–la–mi–re, where mi–re overlap with the tenor’s opening
breve on a. To maintain the 23 tempi of the dance melody, the tenor has been truncated in two
places: with the removal of semibreves 8 and 12, each the second of a pair of similar pitches (on d
42 The cantus, altus, and bassus should have to accurately designate the 2:1 proportion with the tenor and maintain the
same number of tempi in all of the voices.
Tenor
Altus
Bassus
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136
and a, respectively).43 In contrast to the broad statement of the head motive and expansive stepwise
descent of an octave in the second system, the cantus alternates short passages of florid runs and
simple cadential figures, often in imitation with the altus, the most active voice, with nearly perpetual
motion and a surprise, final major third on f sharp. The bassus is much simpler, giving consonant,
nearly homophonic intervals to the tenor as a foundational support and yielding to the imitation in
the upper two voices.
Sharing a similar contrapuntal approach with the previous setting, the second Agnus from
Henricus Isaac’s “Missa sobre castila” (Barcelona, Centre de Documentació de l’Orfeó Català, MS 5,
Figure 6.9: Henricus Isaac, Agnus II, Missa La Spagna
Misse Henrici Izac (Venice: Ottaviano Petrucci, 1506),
fols. BbB5r (cantus), FfF5v (altus), HhH3r (bassus)
43 Note as well that semibreve 5 is notated as a rather than f, and the final pitch of the median ligature, corresponding to
semibreves 25-26 of the original tune, is erroneously notated as b instead of c’.
Bassus
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Altus

137
fol. 33v), or Missa La Spagna, has been singled out as a plausible bassadanza setting (see fig. 6.9).
While the majority of the mass spins its melodic material out of fragmented motifs from its tenor
model, as a common characteristic of his cantus-firmus masses, Isaac tends to reserve the most
literal statement of the model for a three-voice section, and the second Agnus of Missa La Spagna is
no exception.44 The altus and cantus trade respective solo entrances at the beginning and continue
throughout the brief mass section alternating between the trading of motivic material based on the
tenor (from tenor note 7, for example, the motivic exchange in the upper voices heralds the coming
tenor phrase, notes 8-11), united phrases that culminate in a cadence, and the trading of cadential
figures, as in the exchange over tenor notes 37-45. Although all three voices are notated under the
mensuration sign , the breves of the Spagna melody—here in the bassus in tone 1 with a g final—
have been dotted so that each remains a perfection, equivalent to the perfect semibreves of the other
settings and the model in V, where the proportion has been realized (here, a semibreve of the bassus
equals a semibreve of the upper voices). Although the tenor has migrated to the bass voice in this
setting, a treatment of the Spagna melody that reappears later in the sixteenth century, and despite
the notated duple meter, the use of short motifs and profusion of cadences in the upper voices
aligns this art setting with contrapuntal procedures found in basse danse settings (see below) and in
prescriptive procedures for vocal improvisation.45
What the above settings have in common is their overall length of 23 tempi, precisely as many
as in Cornazano’s model. Although this music (including the model tenor!) survives with no specific,
accompanying choreography, I do not believe this means that it was not danceable nor that it never
44 Adam Knight Gilbert, “Elaboration in Heinrich Isaac’s Three-Voice Mass Sections and Untexted Compositions”
(PhD diss., Case Western Reserve University, May 2003), 60-62. 45 In arguing against the plausibility of this composition as a true dance setting, I cited the unconventional placement of
the cantus firmus in the bassus as well as the ranges of the upper voices, which extend beyond those of the alta
(specifically, the bombard) in “The Music and Dances,” 76n168. I now reconsider this appraisal as other alta instruments
(a shawm or cornetto and two sackbuts, for example, since there is no true tenor on which the bombard would have
been indispensable) or bassa instruments could easily perform this music.
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served as music to animate the dance.46 The tenor behaves precisely as it is meant to in the misura
and proportion of the bassadanza, and its length exactly corresponds to that recorded in V, a dance
treatise. If this was truly one of the “best and most used” bassadanza melodies, it only follows that no
choreography need be notated—why explain something that everyone (or, the very specific,
dedicatory target audience of V) already knows? Finally, the setting that most compellingly suggests
that the standard of 23 tempi was principal for settings of this tune as a fifteenth-century-style
bassadanza is the second in Q18: if the music as a whole were not meant to fit this particular number
of tempi and, accordingly, the same, fixed number of step-units, why alter the tenor by removing two
semibreves to counterbalance the opening breve rest in this voice? Such a consideration is not made,
for example, in the solo lute settings of La Spagna preserved in Pesaro, Biblioteca Oliveriana, MS
1144 [Pesaro], 35-43, and its near concordance, Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Vmd.
MS 27 [Thibault], fols. 15r-16v, which liberally alter the tenor, truncating or lengthening certain
notes, or adding supplemental measures beyond the tenor, with no particular regard for any
accompanying choreography.47 Any setting of La Spagna in 23 tempi, in which each note of the 45-
note (or, if the final pitch is doubled, 46-note) tenor is worth one perfection equal to a half-tempo
(i.e., a semibreve in or a breve in ), would precisely fit a standardized choreography for the
Italian bassadanza.
48 The choreography was so well known by the initiated upper classes that
46 Musical context must be considered, however, such that it is likely that Isaac’s liturgical setting in the form of a mass
section was never meant to serve as true dance music but, rather, only imitate it.
47 For the context and analysis of these settings, see Crawford Young, “Appendix: The ‘bassadanza’ in Pesaro,” in Frühe
Lautentabulaturen im Faksimile / Early Lute Tablatures in Facsimile, ed. Crawford Young and Martin Kirnbauer (Winterthur:
Amadeus, 2003): 143-57, and Crawford Young, “The King of Spain – ‘una bassadanza troppo forte,’” Lute Society of
America Quaterly 48, no. 1/2 (2013): 40-61. Following Gombosi’s distinction between the “Bassadanza-Bassedanse” and
saltarello, Young (“The King of Spain,” 42) contends that collections of music in lute tablature make the same
delineation, using the term “bassadanza” to refer to a setting of the tenor where each note lasts two perfections and the
name “la spagna” to refer to a setting of the tenor in which each note lasts one perfection. This is the case among the
three settings found in the Capirola lute book (see below). 48 Choreographic variants—based on regional tastes or the dancers’ fancy—for this dance certainly existed, however, as
they do with others.
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Cornazano felt it unnecessary to include in his treatise where he is the only Italian dance master to
include a transcription of the tenor.
49
6.1.A. Melodic Variants in bassadanza Settings
As the length of the tenor fluctuated in Iberian and certain Italian sources in the first decades
of the sixteenth century, and as Franco-Burgundian fashion continued to infiltrate the world of
Italian dance, diverse Spagna choreographies began to appear in southern sources. Coincidentally, we
encounter examples of an abridged version of the tenor. Possibly the earliest of these settings,
certainly in its style, is Francisco de la Torre’s “Alta” for three voices (Palacio, fol. 223r; see fig.
6.10).50 After its opening anacrusis, the tenor comprises 37 breves, a significant difference from the
46 notes that appeared previously.51 The 37-note tenor corresponds to the removal of each doubled
pitch (notes 2, 8, 12, 18, 22, 24, 26, and 32), which we find, for example, in the tenor of Costanzo
Festa’s Contrapunti.
52 De la Torre’s tenor, however, preserves the opening doubled breve on a-la mi re
before removing the other doubled pitches and embellishing the final phrase. The semibreve
movement over the last five breves’ worth of time corresponds to the final six notes of the tenor.
Since the adornment of the final phrase truncates it from what it should otherwise be, the opening
two breves on a-la allows for the free treatment of the end of the tune all while maintaining the 37
breves of the abridged version.
Like “Falla con misuras,” the “Alta” boasts “one of these hot trebles,” as Baines evocatively
49 Perhaps Domenico and Guglielmo/Ambrosio felt it sufficiently common as to not even warrant mention in their
treatises, Pd, Pg, and Pa. Additionally, Pd clearly states that the balli and bassedanze choreographies and tenors have all
been composed by “lo spectabile & egregio cavagliero Misser Domenico da piasença”; Smith, 1:26-27. 50 For a modern edition, see Bregman and Gilbert, “Appendix 6,” 343-44. 51 The opening of “Alta” precisely demonstrates what Ambrosio says about the tempo of a misura being determined by the
tenor in the vuodo (upbeat) joined by the contratenor in the pieno (downbeat); see Ch. 1, n43, and below. 52 See n14 above; for a modern edition, see Costanzo Festa, Counterpoints on a Cantus Firmus, ed. Richard J. Agee
(Madison: A-R Editions, 1997).

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Figure 6.10: F. de la Torre, “Alta”
Madrid, Biblioteca de Palacio Real, MS II-1335 [Cancionero de Palacio] (ca. 1505-20), fol. 223r

141
qualified them, dancing over the tamely metered breves and semibreves of the tenor and contra.53
Here, the tenor begins with an anacrusis to set the dance in motion and to establish the pulse when
joined on the downbeat of the second breve by the cantus and contra. This opening gives credence
to Ambrosio’s description of misura, which “signifies a sweet and orderly correspondence of the
voice to tempo partitioned with reason and art,” and “which is correlated and tempered with the vuodo
and pieno, that is, with the tenor and the contratenor, in order to determine one tempo.”54 The
composition’s title, “Alta,” describes an altadanza, or saltarello, with which Gombosi concurred, in 37
tempi, since one tempo of saltarello is a breve in . The mensuration leaves much ambiguity,
however, because it could lead to a variety of interpretations, from the saltarello misura to the
bassadanza misura and other possibilities in between. In the early-mid fifteenth century, this sign
appeared as a designation for diminution indicating modus cum tempore (or minor modus with tempus)
where both the long and breve are perfect; the pulse falls on the breve with the long as the main unit
of time.55 Counting the “Alta” in this way indeed works metrically to end on a downbeat when we
begin beating the time from the first sounding breve of the tenor.56 In terms of dance, this would
suggest the sometimes ternary misura of a saltarello, but the note values are blown out of proportion
with the perfect long as the unit of tempo. Our mensuration sign could, in certain cases, mean perfect
tempus with major prolation, but the semibreves are clearly imperfect.57 In the “Alta,” most
probably signifies perfect tempus in diminution, or , however erroneously.58 If this is the case, in
terms of dance misura, the “Alta” could still be an alta (i.e., saltarello) or bassadanza in 19 tempi, each
53 Baines, Woodwind Instruments, 233. 54 Transcribed and translated in Smith, 1:129-30. 55 For this and the following discussion, see Busse Berger, Mensuration and Proportion Signs, 151-54 and 159-62. 56 From here on, this discussion assumes counting from the first full breve with all three voices, i.e., after the
rest/anacrusis.
57 Busse Berger, Mensuration and Proportion Signs, 106. 58 For a full discussion of the inequality of and in a case study of Ockeghem’s chanson L’aultre d’antan, see Busse
Berger, Mensuration and Proportion Signs, 120-63, esp. 159-63.
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still comprising two notes of the (shortened) tenor. But considering the proportional velocity of the
pulse between the two misura, the “hot treble” of “Alta” as a saltarello (semibreve = +/-160 bpm)
would simply be too hot to handle!
Retaining the doubled breve on the opening pitch shows a conscious decision on the
composer’s part to preserve the overall length of the tenor with 19 tempi. Similar to the way in which
the second Spagna setting in Q18 altered the tenor to keep 23 tempi, de la Torre’s tenor implies an
awareness of a specific length, presumably to accommodate a standard choreography of 19 stepunits which correspond to the abridged tenor of 37 notes. Amazingly, one such choreography, for
“Bassadanza in due chiamata la spagna,” survives in two of the later “Ambrosio” treatises, NYp (ca.
1510) and Siena (ca. 1500?).59 A version in tablature of the choreography, without specifications
which appear in the full description such as the leading foot for a given step, might look like this: 60
[cc] ss d d d d r ss d d r r ss d dr
-volta r-volta r
I have placed spaces between the step-units so that each appears clearly discernable, recalling that
pairs of sempi and continentie form one step-unit and, thus, are stuck together. Upon first glance, the
choreography only seems to comprise 17 step-units. But the antepenultimate and penultimate both
integrate turns as they are executed. NYp and Siena are two of only three “Ambrosio” manuscripts
to explain the duration of each step, stating of turns, “Tucta volta et due tempi” (“All turns require
two tempi”).61 This means both turning steps, the contradoppio (or, recoiling double step) and the
59 The Siena choreographic description is transcribed in C. Mazzi, “Una sconosciuta compilazione di un libro
quattrocentistico di balli,” La Bibliofilía 16, no. 5/6 (August-September 1914): 185-209 at 194; Mazzi supposes Siena “was
written in the final years of the fifteenth century” (p. 186). Wilson suggests that the date of NYp is close to that of
Antinori, dated 1510; Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 123. The Spagna choreographies from Siena and NYp appear
transcribed with a collated English translation in Smith, 2:282.
60 “Imprima contiene due [continentie], poi due scempij, cominciando col piè dricto, et poi passi quatro doppij,
cominciando col piè dricto, et poi passi quatro doppij, cominciando col piè dricto, con una ripresa, cioè al fine delli passi
quatro ; da poi due scempij et due doppij, cominciando in sul piè sinistro, con due riprese, et da poi due scempij et uno
doppio, cominciando in sul piè sinistro, et uno contradoppio tornando indirieto, con due riprese, la prima in uolta, come
quella del gioioso. Finis.” Mazzi, “Una sconosciuta compilazione,” 194. The opening pair of continentie (= 1 branle) is
missing in Siena and has been supplied from NYp. 61 Smith, 1:200 incl. n22. The third, closely related source (although it lacks the Spagna choreography) is Modena,
Biblioteca Estense, Ital. 82.a.J.9.4; see Smith, 1:201-203.

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ripresa, each last two tempi—four breves of tenor. Figure 6.11 shows the how the steps of this
choreography would fall to the tenor of the “Alta.”
Figure 6.11: de la Torre, “Alta,” tenor voice with the Spagna choreography from NYp/Siena
The 45-note (23-tempo) Spagna bassadanza persisted into the sixteenth century but was already
wildly popular and well known from the middle of the previous century, which is presumably why
no recorded choreography for this standard has survived. The newer version of the tenor, abridged
to 37 notes (19 tempi) required a new, shorter choreography of 19 step-units that was indeed
recorded in two Italian sources.
62 A situation similar to the chicken-or-egg conundrum, it is unclear
whether the melody changed in function of a new, shorter choreography that had been developed, if
the choreography adapted to a new, more concise melodic ideal, or if the change was more
calculated where the music and choreography were considered and altered simultaneously. In any
case, beyond this stark departure from the original tune, the duration of the Spagna tenor in ItaloIberian musical settings continued to fluctuate by way of mensuration and note values. The shortest
of these was that used by Festa, where each of the 37 notes is an imperfect breve in , which, as
Philippe Canguilhem has pointed out, was an abstraction of the original bassadanza function, no
longer in the correct misura.
63 This change in misura, much more than contrapuntal treatment, marks
the difference between a setting for the “dance hall” or a setting with a “purely musical interest.”
62 Or, perhaps, the new, 19-tempo choreography required a shorter version of the tenor. 63 Canguilhem, “‘Le basse sono bone per imparare a cantar a contrapunto.’”
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c c s s d d d d r s s d d r r
s s d dr-volta r-volta r

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Other abstractions, such as Antonio Cabezón’s “Tres sobre el canto llano de la alta,” exploded the
values of the 46-note version to three semibreves in (six beats) per tenor note, but not always in a
very strict fashion, as in the lute settings in Pesaro and Thibault, which take such liberties with the
tenor-note durations and overall melodic structure that they are clearly beyond consideration for the
dance form, as mentioned above.64 Still other treatments of the tenor that maintained its functional
dance aspect, however, persisted in other places on the continent.
6.2. RHYTHMIC VARIANTS: THE HOFTANZ
Early sixteenth-century Germanic keyboard tablature sources preserve dances that maintain
the bassadanza–saltarello tradition but that demonstrate a parallel development to the isometric tenors
of the bassadanza and basse danse, a local variant tradition, the Hoftanz. With a tenor rhythm distinct
from that of the bassadanza or basse danse, the Hoftanz tenor largely proceeded in a trochaic pattern
of imperfect values—breve plus semibreve (4+2 minims) or long plus breve (4+2 semibreves)—
against a perfect meter. The dance’s uneven, long–short gait could deviate at times into equal
perfections—two perfect semibreves or two perfect breves, the typical rhythmic and melodic
motion of the bassadanza—falling in stride with the meter for brief bouts.
65
Two particular sources with works by Alsatian organist Hans Kotter (ca. 1485-1540) and
contemporaries Hans Weck (ca. 1495-1536) and Hans Buchner (a.k.a. Hans von Constanz, 1483-
1538)—Basel, Universitätsbibliothek MSS F.IX.22 (ca. 1513-1535) and F.IX.58 (ca. 1525)—contain
64 Luys Venegas de Henestrosa, Libro de Cifra Nueva para Tecla, harpa y vihuela (Alcalá: Ioan de Brocar, 1557), fol. 12r-v; for
a modern edition, see Luys Venegas de Henestrosa, Libro de Cifra Nueva para Tecla, harpa y vihuela, 2nd ed., edited by
Higinio Anglés (Barcelano: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, 1965), 7-8. 65 For more on the Hoftanz, see Otto Gombosi, “Der Hoftanz,” Acta Musicologica 7, fasc. 2 (April-June 1935): 50-61, and
Heartz, “Hoftanz and Basse Dance,” 20-35. In addition to the examples on La Spagna presented here, Heartz identified
one surviving setting—a Hoftanz—for the basse danse tenor “Le petit Rouen” (see fig. 1.7) simply entitled “Hoftanz,”
and its “Trippel” after-dance, in Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Mus. MS 1516, no. 183; Heartz, “Hoftanz and
Basse Dance,” 28-35. Heartz gave a modern edition of the composition, and a more recent edition appears in Bregman
and Gilbert, “Appendix 6,” 360-63.
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settings of La Spagna that, similarly to those of bassedanze, give two tenor notes for every two
perfections.
66 Perhaps most remarkable among these intabulations is their variety of texture, rhythm,
contrapuntal approach, and treatment of the Spagna tune, which encapsulate the more liberal
treatment of preexisting tenors typically found in settings for keyboard and lute.
Figure 6.12: “Spanieler. Jo. Kotter”
Merian, Der Tanz in den deutschen Tabulaturbüchen, 44-45
Kotter’s own two settings could not be more different. As described above, his “Spanieler”
(fig. 6.12) frames the Spagna tune with surrounding voices that often move in flowing passages of
parallel tenths, and with quick flourishes in the cantus at cadences. The 45-note tune appears in the
66 The Kleber Organ Tablature, Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Mus.MS. 40026 (1524), similarly has two settings of “La spania
in re,” one (fols. 29v-31r) by organist Leonhard Kleber (ca. 1495-1556), and one (dated 1520, fols. 60v-61v) by Buchner,
organist at the cathedral of Konstanz.

146
tenor with one note per perfection, mainly subdivided into a trochaic rhythm, minim–semiminim,
sometimes breaking the pattern to ornament a cadence. Despite a lack of mensuration sign and any
choreographic indications, this version was certainly conceived of as a bassadanza, rather than a
saltarello, given its vivacious outer voices. A contemporary choreography recorded in a letter of
March 7, 1517, from the music theorist Johannes Cochlaeus (1479-1552) to prominent Nuremberg
humanist Willibald Pirkheimer (1470-1530), however, gives double steps throughout the Spagna
dance: “Item zum Ersten der spanier mit baß duppeln durch auß.”67 This could be indicative of the
typical step for the Hoftanz, but Cochlaeus was writing from Italy at the time—having earned a
doctorate in theology in Ferrara that same year68—and the Spagna entry is followed by
choreographies for seven balli. The passo doppio was the typical step for the saltarello: one could simply
execute this dance with double steps throughout, which would pair easily with Kotter’s “Spanieler”
but only at the tamer pulse of the bassadanza.
Like Kotter’s first setting, Hans Buchner’s “Spaniol” (F.IX.58, fols. 6r-7v; see fig. 6.13)
similarly frames the Spagna tenor with florid outer voices, often in decimae. The tenor here mainly
advances in perfections, subdivided into the trochaic minim–semiminim rhythm as well, but
sometimes strays to the uneven rhythm of imperfect semibreve–minim (4+2) over two perfections,
typical of Hoftanz tenors (e.g., mm. 9-10, 29-32). With its ornaments and cadential figuration,
however, this rhythmic treatment is not always so strict (e.g., mm. 11-14, 25-28). Although the
composition arrives at 38 perfections in total, the tenor scarcely resembles the abridged version
found in Southern sources. Here, all of the doubled pitches have been retained, in principle, but
Buchner indiscriminately omits notes 19, 21-22, 25-27, and 30-34, and treats the ending (notes 43-
67 Christian Meyer, “Musique et danse a Nuremberg au début du XVIe siècle,” Revue de musicologie 67, no. 1 (1981): 61-68
at 64.
68 Clement A. Miller, “Cochlaeus [Dobneck, Wendelstein], Johannes,” in Oxford Music Online, doiorg.libproxy1.usc.edu/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.06024.

147
Figure 6.13: “Spaniol. M[agister]. H[ans]. V[on]. Constantz”
Merian, Der Tanz in den deutschen Tabulaturbüchen, 50-51
45/6) quite freely from m. 33.69
Stricter in their adherence to the Hoftanz rhythm, but perhaps more cavalier in every other
sense, are the two remaining settings from these keyboard sources. The pseudo-parallel organum of
Kotter’s second Spagna setting, “Spaniol. Kochersperg” (F.IX.22, fols. 100r-101v), which also
appears in F.IX.58, fols. 15r-v, with the title “Der Kochersperger Spanyeler” (see fig. 6.3 above)—“a
satire of backward, village musicians” of Alsace, as described earlier70—flurries over the unequal gait
of the Spagna melody. Here again do we find an atypical treatment of the tune: the composition only
69 For a discussion and comparison of the melodic treatment of La Spagna among these keyboard settings, see Young,
“Appendix: The ‘bassadanza’ in Pesaro,” 147-50. 70 Heartz, “Hoftanz and Basse Dance,” 20-21.

148
adds up to 39 perfections by omission of notes 2, 24, 26, 30-34, and 44-45, meanwhile doubling in
value notes 4, 17-18, and 36. Now in the lowest voice, the melodic rhythm of the tune’s notes
alternates every two perfections between the uneven 4+2 of the Hoftanz and the steady 3+3 of the
bassadanza, which is symptomatic of the presence of repeated pitches (although here Kotter has
regularized the alternation without regard for the melody). Against this, each pair of perfections,
regardless of its melodic rhythm, adopts the subdivision minim–semiminim + semiminim–minim.
Figure 6.14: “Spanyöler Tancz: Hans Weck organist zu Friburg im Brisgau”
Merian, Der Tanz in den deutschen Tabulaturbüchen, 48-49
As in “Spaniol. Kochersperg,” Hans Weck’s “Spanyöler Tancz” (F.IX.58, fols. 1r-2r) places a
florid cantus line above an accompaniment that punctuates the same, two-bar, rhythmic subdivision
previously described, as well as the alternating melodic rhythm between the trochaic 4+2 and
spondaic 3+3 (see fig. 6.14). Whereas in the previous piece the accompaniment was the single-line

149
Spagna melody, here chordal harmonies underlie a highly ornamented version of La Spagna in the
cantus. Although we can glean the contours of the tune through its first half, the cantus significantly
strays from the structural pitches after note 21 but indeed silhouettes the rise and fall of the tunes’
final phrase (notes 33-45) several times (mm. 26-31, 31-34, 35-39), ending on the cofinal (a’ of the
tenor with a d final).
While these settings demonstrate a clear metrical structure of pairs of perfections, essential
to the bassadanza, basse danse, and Hoftanz, their melodic, rhythmic, and polyphonic treatment of the
Spagna tenor is erratic at best. But since clear choreographies for the Hoftanz have yet to resurface,
and since these pieces are surrounded by settings of other dance tunes (especially in F.IX.58), there
is no reason to conclude that these settings were unsuitable for dancing—they simply belonged to a
different tradition that has yet to be fully revived. Following this detour, let us return to more stable
footing with the earliest surviving choreographies and the original tenor, as it continued to be treated
in the Franco-Burgundian manner.
6.3. THE BASSE DANSE
The complete version of the Spagna tenor from Toulouze (recall, it was missing the final four
notes—see above), with notes double the value of those given by Cornazano, appears in three
settings all ca. 1500. These settings all realize the doubling of Toulouze’s breves, giving them as
longs in , and are the only settings of any basse danse tenor to attest to this rhythmic magnitude that
distinguishes the late fifteenth-century isometric basse danse. Now the 45/46 notes of the tune bring
its length to 45/46 tempi, double that of the longest bassadanza and with all the same (or more)
rhythmic and contrapuntal vivacity.
The anonymous, three-voice “La Spagna” in Canti C (fols. 147v-149r; see fig. 6.15)
exemplifies the contrapuntal treatment of the three ensemble settings for La Spagna that uphold the
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Figure 6.15: Anonymous, “La Spagna,” Canti C, fols. 147v-149r
basse danse tradition.71 Points of imitation that outline the consonant intervals above and below the
tenor note dance around these sustained pitches, often giving repeated figures in close fuga after a
semibreve or minim, periodically decorated with fleeting flourishes of decimae. The use of imitation
inJohannes Ghiselin’s (fl. 1491-1507) four-voice setting of “La Spagna” in Motetti A (fols. 31v-34r)
is even more pervasive, as if attempting to push the technique to its limits.72 The tenors in these
settings (compared in fig. 6.16 below) takes a more active role. They ornament the arrival on the
second of a pair of identical pitches (e.g., notes 1 and 2), as if to articulate the repeated note more
clearly. They also add ornamental figuration at cadential arrivals, helping more clearly to establish
71 For a modern edition, see Bregman and Gilbert, “Appendix 6,” 345-48. 72 Given the unquestionable similarities between the three- and four-voice settings of La Spagna, Adam Gilbert and I
argued that the version in Canti C was certainly crafted by Ghiselin as well; see “The Music and Dances,” 76-77. For a
modern edition of this setting, see Bregman and Gilbert, “Appendix 6,” 349-53.

151
formal markers throughout the piece. In this respect, and in their maintaining longs on the
unadorned notes, the two tenors are identical. Minor variants in melodic shading and metrical variety
between the two nonetheless deserve closer scrutiny.
The Canti C tenor gives a structural melodic rendering of the tune that most closely
resembles that given by Cornazano. While note 13 is a b’ natural, not flat, this version of the tenor
maintains the c’ sharp on note 16, explicitly marks the flat on note 30 (b’), and even adds a sharp to
notes 25-26 (both c’). That the sharps seem to be a matter of melodic tradition or of a particular
transmission of the tune—possibly how the printer recalled it, whistling it while setting the blocks—
rather than the composer’s intention becomes evident when we look at the surrounding
counterpoint. The added voices actively clash against the c’ sharps, sounding augmented fourths,
diminished fifths, and augmented and diminished octaves—clearly the tenor was not meant to have
these sustained sharps. This is also the only setting to play with meter against the unwavering tenor:
cantus and contra simultaneously shift from to
!
" for the duration of the tenor’s note 33, where
their pulse remains (and, thus, the tenor’s long remains unchanged) but shifts from the imperfect
semibreve to the perfect semibreve. These minor variations aside, the similarities between these
three- and four-voice settings are striking.
Finally, the five-voice setting marks the apogee of the fifteenth-century basse danse tradition.
It survives as a dance in the partbooks of Copenhagen, Kongelige Bibliotek, MS Mus 1872-4˚,
labelled variously as “La spagne tanz,” “La passa tanz,” or “Spanier tanz” and without attribution.73
Several Germanic sources from the 1530s-50s preserve it as a contrafact motet with the text
“Propter peccata quae peccastis ante Deum” (Baruch 6:1-6) and with a dubious attribution to
73 For a modern edition, see Bregman and Gilbert, “Appendix 6,” 354-58.
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Figure 6.16: Tenor voice from the ensemble basse danse settings of La Spagna
A: Anon., “La Spagna,” Canti C, fols. 147v-149r; complete Toulouze choreography underlaid
B: Johannes Ghiselin, “La Spagna,” Motetti A, fols. 31v-34r
C: Anon., “La Spagne tanz,” Copenhagen, Kongelige Bibliotek, MS Mus 1872-4˚, fols. 1v-2r;
Salisbury choreography underlaid
D: Josquin des Prez (attr.), “Propter peccata quae peccastis ante Deum,” Ott, no. 14
R bs s ddd ddssr r rb|s s d ss r r rb| ss dd d d dss r r r b| ssd ssr r r b| ss d dd r r rb|
b b s s d
d d d d s
s r r r b|
s s d d d
s s r r r b|
s s d d d d
d r r r b|
s s d r r r
b| s s d d
d r r rb|

153
Josquin des Prez74—at a time when the popularity of the basse danse genre was waning, what better
way to attempt to keep such a composition relevant than by setting a biblical, Latin text to it,
converting it into a motet, and attributing it to the most celebrated musician of the age? The
composer of this setting of La Spagna made no effort to establish regular points of imitation, moving
away from the highly ordered imitation used by Ghiselin, but the extra added voice helps create
duos between the cantus and altus and between the two basses. Imitation sporadically enlivens these
two pairs of voices, sometimes bleeding over to include one or both from the other pair. What this
piece achieves more than any other Spagna setting, however, is to capture the flavor of an improvised
basse danse. While the setting in Canti C and that by Ghiselin demonstrate the carefully curated
contrapuntal virtuosity of the period, “Josquin’s” Spagna seems comparatively relaxed. Its imitation is
simpler and less extensive, and its counterpoint is not nearly as polished, even containing mistakes.
Figure 6.17 illustrates instances of parallel octaves and contradiscordantia that arise in it that are
consistent with the types of contrapuntal “errors” one would expect in collectively improvised
counterpoint.
75 Much more than in the other settings, its tenor strives further to suggest the spirit of
Figure 6.17: Examples illustrating the improvisatory character of “La spagne tanz”/ “Propter
peccata quae peccastis ante Deum,” mm. 15-16, 35-34, 54-55, and 69
Parallel octaves indicated with red arrows, contradiscordantia indicated with orange arrows
74 Ott (1537), no. 14, is the earliest complete print to preserve the motet; see David Fallows, “Alamire as a Composer,”
in Yearbook of the Alamire Foundation 5: The Burgundian-Habsburg Court Complex of Music Manuscripts (1500–1535) and the
Workshop of Petrus Alamire, ed. Bruno Bouckaert and Eugeen Schreurs (Leuven: Alamire, 2003): 247-58 at 257. 75 In addition to these contrapuntal “errors,” however, legitimate contrapuntal mistakes occur identically in the
Copenhagen MS and Ott that suggest a common source.
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2 La Spagne Tanz
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V
V
?
?
C
A
T
B1
B2
42 w ∑ ∑
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
› ˙ ˙
˙ ˙. œ ˙ w
˙ ˙. œ ˙ w
Ó
w. ˙ ˙
›.
› w
›.
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙. œ œ œ
˙. œ ˙ ˙ w
w ˙ ˙. œ ˙
› w
˙. œ ˙ ˙ ˙. œœ
˙ ˙. œ ˙ ˙ ˙
w ∑ ∑
w. ˙ w
› w
˙ w ˙ w
˙. œ ˙ w ˙
I
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
w Ó ˙ ˙ ˙
› w
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ Ó ˙
w Ó ˙ ˙ ˙
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ ˙
› w
˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ ˙
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ Ó ˙
˙ w ˙
I w
˙ ˙
i
w w
› w
Ó ˙ w w
˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ ˙
V
V
V
?
?
C
A
T
B1
B2
49
˙ ˙. œ ˙ ˙ ˙
w ˙ ˙. œ ˙
› w
„
›.
Ó w œ œ ˙ ˙
˙ ˙ Ó w œ œ
› w
› w
„
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ œ œ œ œ
˙ ˙ Ó ˙ ˙ ˙
› w
„
› w
˙ w œ œ w
˙ ˙ Ó w ˙
› w
› w
› w
˙ ˙. œ œ œ ˙ ˙
› w
› w
w w Ó ˙.
w Ó ˙. œ œ œ
V
V
V
?
?
C
A
T
B1
B2
54
Ó ˙ ˙ w œœ
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙. œ
› w
œœœ˙ ˙
Ó ˙
˙ ˙ Ó ˙ w
w ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
w ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
› w
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ∑
˙. œ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
˙ ˙. œ w ˙
˙ w ˙ ˙ ˙
w. ˙ w
„
˙ ˙ w w
›.
›.
› w
› w
›.
› w
˙.
i
œ œœ w œœ
› w
w. w œ
i
œ
w.
i
œœ w
w Ó ˙˙˙
˙˙ ˙ ˙˙˙
b› w
˙. œœœ w
i
œœ
„
w ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
˙ ˙. œ w ˙
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ w
i
w ∑ ∑
˙. œ ˙ ˙ w
La Spagne Tanz 3
*
V
V
V
?
?
C
A
T
B1
B2
63
˙ w ˙ ˙ ˙.
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙. œ ˙
› w
› w
˙. œ ˙ ˙ ˙. œœ
œ ˙ ˙ w ˙
I
˙ ˙. œ ˙ ˙ w
› w
w ˙ ˙ w
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ Ó ˙
w ∑ Ó ˙.
˙ w ˙ w
› w
Ó ˙ w ˙ w.
˙ w ˙
I ˙ w
œ ˙ ˙ w ˙
I
˙. œ ˙ w
› w
˙ ˙ w
œ œ w ∑
˙ w w ˙
I
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
› w
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ w
„
˙ ˙. œ w œ œ
˙ ˙ w w
› ˙ ˙
˙ ˙. œ œ œ ˙ œ œ
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ w
V
V
V
?
?
C
A
T
B1
B2
69
w Ó ˙ ˙ w.
Ó ˙ ˙.œœ˙ w
› w
w w ˙˙.
˙ œœ˙˙ ˙˙
˙˙ w
˙ ∑ ∑
˙. œ˙ w ˙
I
œœœ˙˙ Ó w
˙. œ˙˙ w
w Ó ˙ ˙ w.
w w ˙ ˙.
› w
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙
w ˙. œ ˙ w.
˙˙˙
˙
œœœœ˙˙Ó ˙.
› w
Ó ˙ ˙˙.
œœœ
˙˙w
˙ w. ˙˙
œœœ˙˙˙˙
› w
˙ w. ˙
˙
Ó w. ˙˙
w ∑ ∑
˙.œ˙˙. œœœ
I
› w
Ó˙.œœœ w
˙.œ˙˙ ˙. œ
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙. œ
›.
› w
› w
w Ó ˙ ˙ ˙
V
V
V
?
?
C
A
T
B1
B2
76
˙. œ œ ˙ w ˙
I
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ Ó ˙
˙ ˙ ˙ ˙ w
Ó ˙ ˙ ˙ ˙. œ
˙. œ ˙ ˙ Ó w
4 La Spagne Tanz

154
improvisation (see fig. 6.16 for a comparison of the tenors): the longs are systematically subdivided
into breve–semibreve–breve–semibreve as if to maintain a steady pulse for the added voices; and the
cadential embellishments include figures on ascending seconds—cantus function (notes 8-10, 12, 16,
and 35)—and even more figures on descending seconds (notes 28, 30, and the final descent over
notes 38-43). These added rhythmic and harmonic articulations take this tenor a step further in
establishing a clear scaffolding structure around which the other voices can extemporize their lines.76
These added metrical markers would also have helped dancers maintain the overall pulse
among the busy figuration in the surrounding voices and keep track of their steps. Although all three
settings use the 45-note version of the tenor, the basse danse tradition after Toulouze’s model gives
two longs on the final, bringing the total to 46 distinct pitches for the completed choreography:
R b ss d d d d d [ss] r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d d d [ss] r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d r r r b|
Two related choreographies, identical to each other apart from the opening gesture and both
totaling 46 step-units, appear in the English source Salisbury within a decade of Toulouze. The
combination of mesures, while still totaling five, differs, with grande parfaite – moyenne parfaite – grande
imparfaite – petite imparfaite – moyenne imparfaite in the following step groupings:
“La basse Danse de Spayn”: F ss d d d d d ss r r r b|ss d d d ss r r r b|ss d d d d d r r r b|
ss d r r r b|ss d d d r r r b|77
76 Clear examples of rhythmic subdivision to aid musicians in keeping track of the underlying pulse of a tenor while
improvising new contrapuntal lines to it survive in Loch and LoTit. In the latter, the logbook of a Venetian galley
trumpeter active in the mid-fifteenth century, Zorzi Trombetta da Modon, the author notated the tenor of John
Dunstable’s Puisque m’amour three separate times (fols. 5r, 6r-8r) with longer note values subdivided into semibreves.
These appear with the song’s original contratenor and four attempts by Zorzi to compose new contratenor voices that
could accompany the tenor. He also notated “ttenor soventt mes pas” (fol. 7r) first in original, ligated note values, then in
subdivided note values, again presumably to facilitate keeping time while improvising a new contratenor. In the hand of
another, professional scribe, the cantus and tenor of an anonymous chanson, Qu’en puis je mais se je me tiens de rire, appear
in stroke notation as one finds in Loch. For further reading on Zorzi’s notebook, see Daniel Leech-Wilkinson, “Il libro
di appunti di un suonatore di tromba del quindicesimo secolo,” translated by Sergio Durante, Rivista Italiana di Musicologia
16, no. 1 (1981): 16-39. 77 Following David Wilson’s suggestion, “F” or “ff ” replaces the typical “Rb” opening step sequence and thus counts as
two step-units; Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 122 n4.

155
“La basse dance de Spayn”: b b ss d d d d d ss r r r b|ss d d d ss r r r b|ss d d d d d r r r b|
ss d r r r b|ss d d d r r r b|78
To illustrate how these choreographies would align with the music, figure 6.16A above gives the
completed Toulouze choreography underlaid to the Canti C tenor, and figure 6.16C gives that of
“La basse dance de Spayn” underlaid to the tenor of “La Spagne tanz.” In both cases, the steps and
melody align nicely until the final pair of step-units, which require two perfections (one long) each.
Since the three voices of the Canti C setting cadence together on the tenor’s final note, the
musicians would simply have to hold the last concord for the duration of a maxima in order to
accommodate these closing steps. Both Ghiselin and “Josquin,” however, anticipated the final branle
step by adding a supplementum, or residuum, sufficiently extending the final cadence so that the
tenor’s final d must hold for the duration of two longs (see fig. 6.18).79 Such foresight seems to
demonstrate the composers’ awareness of the length of the choreography and a conscious effort to
accommodate all of the steps.
Figure 6.18: Left: Ghiselin, “La Spagna,” final cadence (mm. 87ff.)
Right: Josquin(?), “La Spagne tanz,” final cadence (mm. 87ff.)
78 On the opening double branle step, see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 118. 79 On the term “supplementum,” see Joachim Burmeister, Musical Poetics, ed. and trans. Benito V. Rivera (New Haven:
Yale University Press, 1993), 207. Note that Ghiselin gives a full two longs (four perfections) at the end of his setting,
while “La Spagne tanz” plays with and, consequently, cheats the meter, first giving two imperfect breves worth of time
at the cadential resolution followed by a long of two perfections.
&
V
?
?
T
A
B
87
˙.œœœ˙.
œœœ
›.
w. w.
w. w.
˙ ˙. œ w ˙
I
w ˙ ˙ w
w. w.
˙ w ˙ w
M
M
w. w.
Ó w ˙. œ ˙
w. w.
i
› w
m
m
La spagna
V
V
V
?
?
C
A
T
B1
B2
87
Ó
˙ ˙ ˙.œœ˙
˙˙ ˙ ˙ w
w. ˙ w
˙
˙ ˙ ˙Ó ˙.
∑ ˙ ˙ w
˙ ˙. œ w ˙
I
w ˙˙ ›
w ˙˙ w
œœœ˙˙˙˙
œœœœ˙˙ w
m
Ó ˙ ˙˙
M
w. ˙ ›
Ó ˙.œœœ ›
w M
m
m
La Spagne Tanz 5

156
Compared with ensemble settings discussed above, which all share a similar contrapuntal
texture, those for lute—like the bassadanza and Hoftanz settings for keyboard—boast greater
contrapuntal variety, presenting a broader spectrum of textures for setting a dance tenor.80 Both
volumes of Francesco Spinacino’s Intabulatura de lauto (Venice: Petrucci, 1507), the first prints
dedicated to music for lute, contain one basse danse setting each of La Spagna. Fols. 31r-33r of libro
secondo give music for “Bassadanza,” an intabulation of the anonymous setting from Canti C and the
only setting for lute to exhibit such florid, close imitation. The “Bassadans” in libro primo (fols. 28v31r; see fig. 6.19) also lasts 45 perfections but demonstrates a completely different texture.81 In two
principal voices, an added contrapuntal line perpetually moves in sixteenth notes over the entire
range of the instrument while the Spagna tune leaps from the tenor octave to the cantus octave and
back, dodging the florid line.
Figure 6.19: Francesco Spinacino, “Bassadans,” mm. 1-16 (notes 1-8)
from Gombosi, “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” li
80 Note that all of the settings discussed here are transposed down a step to tone 1 with a c final for lute in G. 81 This setting was also copied onto fols. 1v-5r of Vienna, Österreichische Nationalbibliothek MS Mus. 18688.

157
A similar polyphonic texture can be found in “Spagna seconda” in the lute book (ca. 1517)
of “gentil homo bresano” Vincenzo Capirola, Chicago, Newberry Library, Case MS Minus VM
140.C25.82 The importance of this source cannot be underestimated with respect to our story, for it
contains two bassadanza settings—“Spagna prima” (fols. 11r-12v; see fig. 6.20A) and “Spagna
seconda” (fols. 43r-44r; see fig. 6.20B)—and one basse danse setting—“Basadanza” (fols. 61r-64v; see
fig. 6.20C)—of La Spagna, showing the two musical traditions side by side.83 While “Spagna
seconda” has one flowing, florid line scurrying over the entire range of the lute, around which the
tenor gives one perfection per note of the melody, both “Spagna prima” and “Basadanza” are
composed in three voices, with a highly ornate cantus line and a mix of shorter figuration and
rhythmic punctuation—at times in the trochaic rhythm of the keyboard settings and the five-voice
basse danse, at others more refined and metrically challenging—in the tenor and contra lines. While all
three versions use the 45/46-note melody, the two bassedanze—“Spagna prima” and “Spagna
seconda”—adhere to Cornazano’s melodic model, while the basse danse adopts the version from
Canti C, with sharp inflections on notes 16, 25, and 26. Additionally, despite its repeat sign
indicating that one should play the entire melody twice through, the basse danse indeed gives a tag at
the end so that it could accommodate the full 46 step-units of Toulouze and Salisbury.
82 For more about the source and its creator, see Otto Gombosi, “The Manuscript” and “The Composer,” in Vincenzo
Capirola, Lute Book (circa 1517), ed. Otto Gombosi (1955; reprint New York: Da Capo Press, 1983), ix-xxiii. 83 For modern editions of these compositions, see Vincenzo Capirola, Lute Book (circa 1517), ed. Otto Gombosi (1955;
reprint New York: Da Capo Press, 1983), 14-17, 73-75, and 109-114. On the distinction between bassadanza and basse
danse settings of La Spagna in collections of lute music, see n47 above. I give “bassadanza” here because of the rapidity of
the figuration within these pieces, which would necessitate the slower pulse of the bassadanza (rather than the quicker clip
of the saltarello) to make any musical sense. Furthermore, in his notes about the second setting (no. 24), Gombosi did
state that “all rhythmic values have been doubled in the manuscript,” which could suggest a bassadanza rather than a
saltarello; see Capirola, Lute Book, lxxxii.

158
Figure 6.20: The Spagna Settings in Vincenzo Capirola’s Lute Book (ca. 1517), tenor notes 1-8
ed. Otto Gombosi (1955; reprint New York: Da Capo Press, 1983)
A: “Spagna prima,” pp. 14-15
B: “Spagna seconda,” p. 73

159
C: “Bassadanza,” pp. 109-10
All the basse danse settings described above use the 45/46-note Spagna melody, even those by
southern composers. As far as I can tell, no musical settings survive that use the shortened 37-note
(and tempus) version of La Spagna, yet two choreographies—one of Iberian and one of Italian
origin—attest to the certain existence of such a version. Cervera’s “La baixa de castilla” (1496)
comprises 39 step-units arranged into four mesures that alternate between grande and petite parfaite:
84
84 Full discussions of this source appear in Crane, Materials, 13-14 and Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 66-73; the
Spagna choreography is transcribed and translated in Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 68-69. Although the notation
system in Cervera is drastically different from the Burgundian system, I have used the Burgundian “translation” of
“La baixa de castilla” for ease of comparison. Perhaps the most significant difference in conception of steps is that for
the branle, which would be considered two continencias, as in the Italian manner.

160
R b ss d d d d d ss r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|ss d d d d d ss r r r b|ss d ss r r r b|R
A prose description in the Italian manner for “labassa dischastiglia” in Antinori (ca. 1510) renders a
38-step-unit choreography that is nearly identical to that given in Cervera:
85
R b ss d d d d d ss 8ripresette|ss d ss 8ripresette|ss d d d d d ss 8ripresette|ss d ss 8ripresette|
In place of the typical “r r r b” close of each mesure, Antinori gives eight “ripresette ala franzese,”
which Wilson equates with the former, if not in strict form, at least in duration—i.e., they add to
four step-units.86 Antinori additionally lacks the closing révérence given in Cervera. Both of these
choreographies reproduce the first four (corrected) mesures from Toulouze, simply omitting the
fifth.87
The choreography in Antinori describes two subsequent dances that follow the bassa, that is,
“Lalta dischastiglia” (saltarello) and “elgoioso,” which together form a suite. Cervera gives pairs of
dances over the two folios, where “La baixa de castilla” is followed by “Ioyos,” an after-dance which
seems to combine the saltarello and gioioso sections of the suite given in Antinori. That this
combination was “a distinctively Spanish development,” “systematically associated with Baixas in
Aragon and Castile,” as reiterated by David Wilson, is further corroborated by two sources that
chronologically frame Cervera and Antinori.
88 Both Pedro de Gratia Dei’s poem La criança y virtuosa
dotrina… (ca. 1488-90), fol. b9v, and sixteenth-century dance master Fabritio Caroso’s treatise Il
85 I have “translated” the choreography into the Burgundian system from the Italian prose; a transcription of the
choreography appears, following a description of the source, in Beatrice Pescerelli, “Una sconosciuta redazione del
trattato di danza di Guglielmo Ebreo,” Rivista Italiana di Musicologia 9 (1974): 48-55 at 52. A transcription and translation
of the choreography appears in Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 130-31. Note that the opening branle step is originally
given as two continentie in the Italian manner.
Note that Wilson forgot to give the fourth petite mesure parfaite in his translation (although he did accurately transcribe
the full choreography from the original, which indeed gives this fourth mesure) and thus makes the mistaken claim that
this choreography is shorter than Cervera’s; see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 65n20, 72, and 130-31. 86 Each ripresetta would last half the time of a ripresa, and there is a notion of a sideways and/or backwards movement
associated with them, something between the ripresa and the branle; see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 130. 87 Hoeksema equated the Antinori and Toulouze choreographies, saying that Antinori was simply missing the final eight
steps (i.e., the final mesure), but mistakenly said that each step of Antinori corresponded to a semibreve of Cornazano’s
tenor as each step of Toulouze corresponded to a blackened breve; Hoeksema, “The Steps and Music of the Italian
ballo,” Vol. 1, 206. 88 Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 22, 71-72, 130, 219, 224.

161
Ballarino (Venice, 1581) under the title “Bassa et alta, Balletto d’Incerto,” fols. 154v-155r, describe an
alta and a gioioso as after-dances following a bassa whose choreography clearly typifies the FrancoBurgundian style.
89 While neither source provides music, nor even a specific title, the choreographic
combination given for both basse of a grande mesure parfaite with a petite mesure parfaite—precisely the
first half of the choreography given for La Spagna in Cervera and Antinori—is intriguing. While
these 20 step-units are much too brief as a whole to pair with La Spagna, especially in the FrancoBurgundian basse danse tradition, perhaps different music of a similar title served to animate these
choreographies.
6.3.A. Related Melodies?
Figure 6.21: “La basse danse du roy d’espaingne,” Br9085, No. 9
Two basse danse tenors contemporaneous with La Spagna have received particular attention in
modern scholarship for their close relationship in name. Despite the forty-three concordances
between Toulouze and Br9085, “Castille la nouvelle” does not appear in the latter. “La basse danse
du roy d’espaingne,” however, is presented as no. 9 (fig. 6.21) and bears a title that comes very close
89 On Gratia dei’s poem, see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 21-22; a single copy of this print survives in Madrid,
Biblioteca Nacional, sign. 878. For a discussion, transcription, and translation of Caroso’s dance, see Wilson, The Basse
Dance Handbook, 219-24.

162
to that given by Cornazano.90 Even with this tauntingly similar title, and a melody that gives
reminiscences of our tenor, especially over the first 15 notes, the 44 notes and six mesures of this
dance are indeed distinct from any given for La Spagna.
More similar to the Spagna tenor in melody and shape, however, is no. 28 from Br9085
(Toulouze, no. 15), “Le petit roysin” (fig. 6.22). It is more diminutive in scope than La Spagna, at
only 32 notes and four mesures alternating moyenne parfaite and petite imparfaite, and more neatly
structured into four eight-note phrases, but its first 16 notes and those of La Spagna bear a
tantalizing resemblance, much more than with “La basse danse du roy d’espaingne.” These melodic
similarities point towards a common melodic vocabulary within the basse danse repertory. While
Crane suggested that such regular phrase structure is emblematic of the dance tunes that have no
clear links to the chanson, Bregman and Gilbert argued that such a phrase structure indeed bridges the
song and basse danse repertories, specifically comparing the phrase and melodic structures of “Sans
faire de vous departie” (Br9085, no. 23), Pierre Fontaine’s eponymous chanson, “Le petit Rouen”
90 Gombosi proffered that this heading in Br9085 was indeed meant for La Spagna, “but by some awkward incident the
title is associated with another tune and the right tune is missing”; “The Cantus Firmus Dances,” xl. Crane reasonably
countered Gombosi suggestion, stating, “the rubric on notes and mesures following the title of B9 [i.e., “La basse danse
du roy d’espaingne”] is correct for the accompanying dance, but not for Castille la novele”; Materials, 82.
Figure 6.22: “Le petit roysin,” Br9085, no. 28

163
(Br9085, no. 16; Toulouze, no. 1), and “Le doulz espoir” (Br9085, no. 26; Toulouze, no. 24).91 As
stated in Chapter 3.1.A.i., they further discussed shorter melodic motives among the dance tenors
drawn from the parallel song repertory, and longer passages and their variants embedded within the
basse danse tunes, concluding that the shared musical vocabulary was applied in different ways to each
genre, but nonetheless aided in memorizing the construction of each independent tenor.92
Figure 6.23: Untitled basse danse [“the base of spayne”]
London, British Library, MS Add. 31922, fols. 93v-94r;
tenor on fol. 93v, last two systems
The other dance tenor of a similar title to La Spagna evoked at the beginning of this section
appears only in sixteenth-century English and Iberian sources. The earliest of these is Henry VIII’s
91 Frederick Crane, “The Derivation of Some Fifteenth-Century Basse-Danse Tunes,” 184; Bregman and Gilbert, “The
Music and Dances,” 47-48. Crane indeed noted the regular phrase structure of “Sans faire de vous departie” but
considered it to be an anomaly among the dance tenors traceable to songs (p. 184).
92 Bregman and Gilbert, “The Music and Dances,” 51.

164
Songbook, London, British Library, MS Add. 31922, fols. 93v-94r, where it bears no title (see fig.
6.23). John Ward made light of this tenor, linking it to that of the Luys de Narváez’s “Baxa de
contrapunto” (Los seys libros del Delphín de musica…, Book 6 (Valladolid: Diego Hernandez de
Cordova, 1538), fols. m2v-m4v), where “the cantus carries the cantus firmus,” and Enríquez de
Valderrábano’s duo “sobre el tenor de la baxa” (Libro de musica de vihuela, intitulado silva de sirenas,
Book 4 (Valladolid: Francisco Fernandez de Cordova, 1547), fols. 58v-60r), both intabulated for
vihuela.93 Narváez’s composition appeared several decades later in the Braye Lutebook (New Haven,
Yale University, Beinecke Library, Osborn Music MS 13, fols. 11r-v) with the English title, “the base
of spayne.”
Figure 6.24: Comparison of the three versions of “the base of spayne” tenor
Ward, “The Maner of Dauncying,” 137;
note values quartered compared to Add. 31922
Ward compared the three tenors, stripped of their embellishments, to show how nearly
identical they are (see fig. 6.24), although they vary in length with 24, 19, and 25 notes, respectively.
While he immediately recognized their complete distinction from La Spagna, he suggested that the 23
93 John M. Ward, “The Maner of Dauncying,” Early Music 4, no. 2 (April 1976): 127-140, 142 at 131-37.
the Spanish half of the so-called Seville
Chansonnier (Bibl. Colombina, Ms. 5-1-43,
ff. 7 lv-72r), was published by Otto Gombosi
in his edition of the Compositione di Meser
Vincenzo Capirola (Neuilly-sur-Seine, 1955),
p. xxxvii.
" Gombosi's views on the basse dance are
summarized in his Capirola edition, pp.
xxxvi-xxxviii; also inournal ofthe American
Musicological Society, IV (1951), 144-145.
12 The piece is printed in Musica Britannica,
XVIII (London, 1962), 68-69. The signa
congruentiae in the original notation of the
piece have been misinterpreted by the
editor: the music should be played through
once, then repeated from bar 7 to the end.
The last chord, which appears to be lacking
in the manuscript, is clearly meant to be a
prolongation of the first chord in bar 7
(marked 'FINE' in the modem edition).
13 A rather unsatisfactory edition of the
piece is in Monumentos de la Mgsica Espahola,
III (Barcelona, 1945), 89-91. The tenor
appears in the top voice, embedded in
almost continuous figuration.
14 The duet was reprinted by Phalese in
1552; see Howard Brown, Intrumental Music
Printed Before 1600 (Cambridge, Mass.,
1965), 1552/11, No. 105. A modern edition
of the piece, no more satisfactory than that
of Narvaez's 'Baxa', is in Monumentos de la
Mutsica Espahola, XXII (Barcelona, 1965),
57-61. The basse dance tenor appears in the
vihuela menor part, each note, with few
exceptions, being stated six times in equal
semibreves. The Valderraibano and Narvaiez
settings are discussed in my diss., 'The
Vihuela de Mano and Its Music' (New York
University, 1953), I, 144-147; mentioned by
Gombosi, Capirola, p. xl; and a partially
successful attempt to extract the tenor from
the Valderraibano duet is printed in
Raymond Meylan's L'inigme de la basses danses
des quinzieme siecle (Bern, 1968), pp. 90-91.
1' The so-called Braye lute book, ff. 10r-1 v,
in the James Marshall & Marie-Louise
Osborn Collection, Yale University Library.
'~ See Crane, Materials, p. 73, where the
Stribaldi and Arena choreographies are
associated, wrongly, I believe, with 'Castille
la novele', i.e. the famous 'La Spagna'.
Crane also includes under this heading
another dance, 'Le bail despaigne', found in
the pamphlet, S'ensuyventplusieurs basses
dances (?Lyon, before 1538), which is almost
identical to the one referred to in the text
above, and the 'base dance de Spayn', which
occurs twice in the Salisbury Ms., requires a
46-note tenor, and is almost certainly a
version of'Castille la novele'.
'7 No two of the versions are identical, as
can be seen below, where the three forms of
the tenor are assembled one above the other.
[Ex. 4.]
18 An anacrusis appears to have been long a
characteristic of the basse dance; the 15th-
century Italian dancing master, Domenico
da Piacenza, wrote in his treatise: 'Nota ti
sonatore, quando cominci a sonare una
Ex. 4
Three versions of the tenor of the 'baxa.'
a) British Library, Ms. Add. 31922,ff 93v-94r.
b) Luys de Narva'ez, 'Baxa de contrapunto,' Delphin de Mdsica,ff 95v-97v.
c) Enriquez de Valderraboano, 'Contrapounto sobre el tenor de la baxa,' Silva de Sirenas,ff 58v-60.
(a) Add. 31922
(b) Narvdez (transposed down an octave)
(c) ValderrAbano
The two Spanish settings of the tenor are more helpful: Narvaiez's
'baxa de contrapunto' has the tempo indication, 'algo apriesa', and
Valderribano's duet is to be played 'muy mas apriesa' than 'espacio'.
However we translate the terms, there is no way to determine whether
either tempo is appropriate for a basse dance performed 25-30 years
earlier in England.26 And it is almost a dead certainty that a comparable
setting of the tenor of 'Filles 'a marier', were one available, would tell
us no more about the dance.
The musical sources failing us, as the pictorial did before, we are left
with Coplande's translation and our imaginations to reconstruct the
steps of 'Filles 'a marier' and any other of the six dances at the end of the
treatise he translated.
Were Coplande's text more explicit, enabling us to perform the dance
with as much confidence as we perform, for example, a motet by Taverner,
would the result be a basse dance as it might have been performed in
England in the 1520s? Put another way, did the English dance 'Filles 'a
marier' and the other choreographies at the end of Coplande's text
'after the use of fraunce & other places'?
The only other evidence available is a collection of basse dances written
down in letter notation sometime during the first quarter of the 16th
century on the blank leaf at the beginning of a Latin dictionary now in
the Chapter Library of Salisbury Cathedral.27 Nothing is known about
its scribe or provenance. One of the titles is in English, most of the rest
in French, often capriciously spelled. Several of the titles occur in con-
tinental sources; but only once do like-named dances have the same
choreography. 'Filles 'a marier', for instance, appears four times in the
manuscript in three different versions not one of which is identical
with a continental version of the dance.2" Nor do all of the Salisbury
choreographies conform to the theoretical conventions governing the
French manner. Two of them fail to observe the rule, as translated by
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[recte 24] principal notes of the version in Add. 31922 corresponded to the 23 step-units of
Stribalidi’s “El bayli de Spagna” and Arena’s “Lo bas de spagno” (more on these choreographies
below).94 Not only does his proposition omit a step on the final note (24), it does not account for
the moitié of the basse danse (in)commune that both Stribaldi and Arena give, which brings the total
number of step-units to 35 for these dances.
95 Furthermore, and perhaps more importantly, the
tenor does not behave the way in which that of a basse danse (in)commune would. As is made clear from
the version in Add. 31922, each structural note has the value of an imperfect long, each worth two
perfect breves, in an assumed mensuration of (compound duple), in the manner of a fifteenthcentury basse danse. (Moreover, as I suggested above, perhaps a variant form of this tune in 20 notes
sounded for those dancing the bassa described by either Gratia Dei or Caroso, which clearly maintain
the fifteenth-century basse danse choreographic tradition). Were this tenor meant to serve as a basse
danse incommune, however, its longs would subdivide into four perfect semibreves. While this is not
the case for “the base of spayne,” it seems entirely likely that the Spagna tenor, considering its
longevity, indeed adapted to this latter form, in which it could have accompanied Stribaldi’s or
Arena’s choreographies, as we shall see.
6.3.B. The basse danse (in)commune
On Saturday, May 20, 1529, an extravagant banquet hosted by Ippolito II d’Este,
Archbishop of Milan, and later Cardinal of Ferrara, unfolded at the Este’s Belfiore estate.96 At each
94 Ward, “The Maner of Dauncying,” 131.
95 Recall that the performance of the sixteenth-century basse danse dictates that the 23 principal steps would occur over
the duration of one time through the musical form, and the steps of the moitié would align with the final 12 notes the
second time through the tune.
96 Howard Mayer Brown, “A Cook’s tour of Ferrara in 1529,” Rivista italiana di musicologia 10 (1975): 216-41, esp. 219-39.
The culinary and musical details of this and other Este events were documented by Cristoforo da Messisburgo in his
cookbook, Banchetti, composizioni di vivande e apparecchio generale (Ferrara: Giovanni de Buglhat and Antonio Hucher, 1549).
Both “Belfiore” and “Belriguardo,” another of the Este country estates, are titles of balli by Domenico da Piacenza, who
had intimate ties to the Ferrarese court; Pd, fols. 7v-8v and 15r-v, transcribed and translated in Smith, 1:26-31 and 42-45.
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of the seventeen courses, the guests enjoyed a variety of musical spectacles, with both alta and bassa
consorts of wind and string instruments, separately or in combination, and vocal soloists and
ensembles performing everything from madrigals and chansons to orphic hymns, building to the
highlight of the evening’s entertainment, a composition by Alfonso dalla Viola, master of the Duke
of Ferrara’s private chamber music, with twenty-two musicians.
97 Ippolito held the banquet in honor
of his brother, Ercole II, Duke of Chartres by way of marriage to Renée of France. As a likely
tribute to the French guests, the seventh course featured Renée’s tabourin (player of pipe and tabor),
who accompanied four couples performing four dances: “la communa, la Bassa di Spagna, la
Reorgarsa, & il brando.”98 The use of a tabourin to animate dance music, especially the basse danse,
seems to have been a typically Franco-Burgundian fashion.99 And the dances he was piping were
typically French, especially “la communa”—the basse danse commune—and “il brando,” or the branle.
100
Clearly the transalpine cultural trade routes were substantial enough that a Ferrarese steward was
sufficiently familiar with the French dances to be able to name them only upon hearing and seeing
them.
The dance that particularly draws my attention for our purposes is “la Bassa di Spagna.”
What would the ensemble have performed? Certainly, the tabourin and the dancers would have
Other balli owe their titles to names of Este family members, such as “Lioncello”—Leonello d’Este, 13th Marquis of
Ferrara—and “Pizochara,” wife of Sigismondo d’Este. For more on the titles of balli, see Smith, 1: xxi-xxii. 97 For a list of the musical entertainments per course, see Brown, “A Cook’s tour,” 237-39, and Messisburgo, Banchetti,
fols. 0r-4v. Grove Music Online, s.v. “Alfonso dalla Viola,” James Haar, accessed October 10, 2023, https://doiorg.libproxy2.usc.edu/10.1093/omo/9781561592630.013.90000380752. 98 Messisburgo, Banchetti, 2r. For a discussion of this vignette within the banquet’s entertainment and its distinct Frenchness, see Robert Mullally, “French Social Dances in Italy, 1528-9,” Music & Letters 65, no. 1 (January 1984): 41-44. 99 For a more in-depth discussion of the use of pipe-and-tabor to accompany the basse danse, see Bregman and Gilbert,
“The Music and Dances,” 65-68. 100 Mullally identifies “la Reorgarsa” with “La roagace” listed among over 200 dances in chapter sixteen (fol. C6r) of
François Rabelais’ spuriously attributed adventure novel, Le Disciple de Pantagruel (Paris: Denys Janot, 1537/8), and “La
Reuergasse” listed in a manuscript appendix (at the Bibliothèque nationale de France) to chapter 33 of Le Cinquiesme et
dernier livre des faicts heroïques du bon Pantagruel; Mullally, “French Social Dances,” 43, and Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook,
218n2. The basses danses listed in Le Disciple de Pantagruel (and Le Cinquiesme et dernier livre) and Moderne are likely related,
sharing a staggering 167 concordant titles, and copies of Le Disciple and Moderne are bound together at Besançon,
Bibliothèque municipale. For a discussion and comparison of these concordances, see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook,
179-81.

167
agreed ahead of time as to which version of La Spagna to perform. But would they have paid
homage to their gracious host by performing an Italian bassadanza of the sort that would
accommodate the 17 step-units (in 19 tempi) given in NYp and Siena? Or would they have remained
in the more exotic French style, performing this one basse danse incommune following the “la
communa”? If this were the case, given the date, the dancers might possibly have performed the
choreography of Stribaldi’s “El bayli de Spagna” (R 9 ss d ss r d r 9|ss d d d r 9|ss d ss r d ss r 9|)
or Arena’s “Lo bas de spagno” (R 9 ss d r d ss r 9
|ss d d d r 9
|ss d ss r d ss r 9
|) in 23 step-units, plus
the moitié: 9 d r 9|ss d d d r d r 9|.
101 How exactly would the pipe and tabor have accommodated
these steps? As stated in the previous chapter, from everything we know about sixteenth-century
basses danses communes and incommunes, the recognizable choreography titles correspond to
contemporary and antiquated chansons, and the only music that has been traceable to a known song is
“Jouyssance vous donneray” (see fig. 5.1). La Spagna, as a hitherto chanson-less tenor that may only
ever have existed as a long-note, isometric melody, does not fit this mold. Yet Arbeau’s basse danse
example can serve to show both how any tune could be adapted to the sixteenth-century basse danse
(in)commune and how the three-holed pipe would embellish a melody, rendering it as a stand-alone
diminution on the original tune.
Figure 6.25 shows two embellished versions of La Spagna set in the cantus range. The first
gives the melody where each of the 46 notes appears as a long in . Using the music for the ballo
“Rostiboli gioioso” (see fig. 4.7) as a model, I subdivided the longs into breves and semibreves
(recall that each long is worth two perfect breves, or six imperfect semibreves). I additionally added
minim passing tones and occasional neighbor tones as cadential preparation when the tune descends
by step. I underlaid the 46-step-unit choreographies from Toulouze and Salisbury, where one step101 Stribaldi, no. 46, transcribed in Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook, 136-37; Arena, fol. F7v. The moitié is from Arena
(fol. F5r) and corresponds with Stribaldi’s first of three possible moyte des dances; see Wilson, The Basse Dance Handbook,
138-39.
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169
Figure 6.25: La Spagna embellished for pipe and tabor after “El gioioso”
and after Arbeau’s “Jouyssance vous donneray”

170
unit is deployed over the time of a long, or a pair of perfections (i.e., two groups of three). The
second version gives the melody reimagined as a basse danse incommune taking as its model Arbeau’s
solo version of “Jouyssance vous donneray.” The florid divisions mainly advance at the level of the
semiminim, with brief moments of repose on minims and the occasional semibreve. Each step-unit
in this dance, like in the previous century, maps to an imperfect long, now divided into a quaternion,
or four perfect semibreves. To accommodate the 23 step-units of Stribaldi’s and Arena’s
choreographies, two notes of the 46-note tenor must fit within each long.102 While this may seem as
if I were treating it as a bassadanza (two tenor notes per long), in the meter —or its symbolic
mensural equivalent —each note of the original tenor lasts the time of a breve (two perfections),
not a semibreve (one perfection) as in the bassadanza. To complete the dance, the steps of the moitié
would begin from the twelfth quaternion/long (m. 45) of the second time through the entire tune and
run until the end.
The comparison in figure 6.25 shows an important distinction between the sixteenth-century
basse danse (in)commune and the simple subdividing of the long-note tenors. Despite the overall
simplification both musically and choreographically of the basse danse, from the fifteenth century,
musicians’ bent for rhythmic vivacity only increased during the lifetime of the genre: from one
perfection per tenor note—a semibreve in or a breve in —of the early basse danse and of the
bassadanza (as discussed in Ch. 3) to two perfections per tenor note—a breve in or a long in —
of the late fifteenth-century basse danse as in the versions of La Spagna shown in Figures 6.15 and
6.16. Finally, each long of the sixteenth-century basse danse expanded to four perfections, even if each
note of an older-style, isometric tenor like La Spagna maintained a duration of two perfections, as in
my hypothetical second version after Arbeau in Figure 6.24. The increase in the number of
102 Moderne gives the following 25 step-units for “Le bail Despaigne” (fol. B4r-v): R b ss d r b|ss d ss r b|ss d d d r b|
ss d ss r d ss r b|, which would have been followed by the 12-step residu. Following my approach, a version of La Spagna
with 50 notes would be needed to set Moderne’s choreography, or simply a different “Spanish” tune.
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perfections allotted to each long—from two big beats to four—afforded musicians more time to test
and flex their creativity while improvising or ornamenting, and we witness a trend towards generally
smaller note values, a current common to most notated musical genres of the time. As the rhythmic
speed of the notes increased, step velocity decreased as we explored in the previous chapter (5.1.B).
Despite the cohesion of musical and choreographic phrases in sixteenth-century basses danses,
perhaps it was the pulse and overall rhythmic speed of the steps and the notes pulling in opposite
directions that caused the undoing and final demise of the genre.
Considering the cumulative surviving materials presented above, the importance of La
Spagna to the history of the bassadanza and basse danse becomes clear. This dance alone fully depicts
the evolutionary arc of the genre and its many facets. Despite its inception as a monophonic tune
with no apparent ties to a preexisting song, it provides clear examples of 45-note bassedanze in 23
tempi in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries versus the blossoming of 46-note basses danses in 45/46
tempi with multiple corresponding choreographies in the late fifteenth century. It shows an
accordance between the tenor and the choreography as both became truncated on the Iberian
Peninsula and in Italy. And we see how surviving sixteenth-century choreographies logically fit to a
version of the tenor as it would have been adapted to the popular basse danse (in)commune. La Spagna
further attests to regional differences in the Germanic lands, with settings incorporating the
rhythmic peculiarities of the Hoftanz, as well as the international cultural crossover that existed
among different European regions, with examples of basses danses cropping up on the Italian and
Iberian Peninsulas and on the British Isles, and with the bassadanza appearing in the Germanic lands
and on the Iberian Peninsula. More than a simple tune with a prolific number of settings and
choreographies, La Spagna integrally represents the most important dance genre of the late Middle
Ages and the early Renaissance as the belle of the ball, the queen of courtly dance.

172
Chapter 7
Conclusion
This study has been a practical exploration of the performance of the Italian bassadanza and
the Franco-Burgundian basse danse, the highest form of court dance in the fifteenth century. We have
toured the history of the genre from its humble beginnings in art song to its importance in the
courtly sphere as a means of flaunting one’s elegance, worldliness, and status. By the end of the
century, musical and choreographic changes had taken place so that, despite a common point of
origin, the basse danse had assumed an austere character, both in its movements and notation, that
departed starkly from the still elegant but more buoyant bassadanza. It was a much longer dance: its
note values and choreographies—now codified into the strict system of mesures—had synchronously
doubled in length. But no sooner do we learn of this development than we see yet a new trajectory
for the basse danse characterized by a change in the form of the mesures and rhythmicized, formally
regular melodies that stuck in one’s ear. Between new, catchy tunes and a revision of the
choreography that ultimately simplified to a “one-size-fits-all” model, this new common and
communal form of the dance—the basse danse commune—assumed a populist air that made it apt for
wider public consumption. Lay audiences in towns and cities could now partake in this dance that,
until the sixteenth century, had been uniquely reserved for high society. Despite a general
simplification, this dance-type still boasted a more complicated arrangement of steps than younger,
up-and-coming dances. Newer trends in dancing towards a simplicity of step vocabulary had taken
sway and, by mid-century, the basse danse had largely been abandoned in favor of dances that only
employed one or two types of step. Although this court dance had broken free of its elite bonds by
the sixteenth century, it had served its time and had lived a full life. Musicians and dancers had
explored its musical and choreographic possibilities to the fullest extent. But had the genre been

173
destined to fail from the beginning? The music and steps were at odds from the start. For too long
their phrases had been out of sync. By the time they came into phase in the sixteenth century, the
rhythmic velocity of the music had become faster while the steps slowed. The two were
irreconcilable, which perhaps marked the genre’s final demise.
Within the past few years of intensive work on this dissertation, related presentations, and
the publication of the study and facsimile edition of Br9085, I had the pleasure of teaching two
classes at Pomona College at the kind request of my colleague and dear friend Dr. Malachai Bandy.
Both classes, “Engaging Music” and “Listening to Queer Voices: Radical Identities, Performance,
and Transgression in Music from Hildegard to House,” involved the students in musical
consumption and analysis, inviting them to connect to the music so that they participated in some
stage of the musical process. I invited them to engage with Renaissance dance. Plunging them into
the world of this study, of historical performance practices and specialized, technical language
related to Renaissance dance and music, would have only flustered and lost them. Rather, our
discussion focused on the people engaging in the dance. We paid special attention to the identities
and roles of the dancers involved before a practical exercise in which they had the opportunity to
assume those roles and go through the motions of learning the choreography for the ballo francese
“Petit riense.” At the very start of the class, we looked at images such as those in figure 1.1, among
several others, analyzing who is dancing, for whom are they dancing, what and how are they
dancing, and where are they dancing. Then I prompted them with a question that aimed at the
human experience of the act: why are they dancing?
“Why do we dance?” The consensus among the students was that when we hear music, we
just want to move to it—of course! I then shared with them Ambrosio’s explanation of what incites
a body to dance:
The virtue of dancing is an external demonstration of spiritual movimenti which corresponds
with the orderly arranged and perfect consonances of the harmony [of music]. This descends

174
with delight through our hearing to the brain and the warm senses, where certain sweet
sympathetic movimenti are generated. As if trapped against their nature, they try to exit as
much as possible and are manifested by action. This action from the sweetness and melody
is drawn to the exterior when the body is dancing. It demonstrates itself almost to be one
with voice and harmony, whether from the [accompanying] [acordato] and sweet canto or from
the heard and orderly arranged sound [suono].1
When sweet musical strains, borne on the air, hit one’s ear and entered the body, Renaissance
perception understood them to course through the arteries, stirring the humors and the spirit, which
were of a similar airy substance. Music affected them, altered their balance, and ultimately, altered
one’s mood. This internal dance between the melodic vibrations, the humors, and the spirit could
not be contained and was outwardly mirrored in the form of dancing.
Ambrosio’s attention to the “orderly arranged and perfect consonances” of music is key to
his explanation. Music pervaded the Medieval and Renaissance world to an extent that is largely lost
on us now. It was a science and one of the seven liberal arts—more specifically, one of the arts of
numbers (the quadrivium). In theory (musica speculativa), it existed in three categories: musica
instrumentalis or organica, the audible harmony of music described by Ambrosio; musica humana, the
harmony within the human microcosm—the healthy balance of humors and spirit; and musica
mundana, the harmony of the spheres. The “orderly arranged and perfect consonances” (unison,
fourth, fifth, octave, and tone) of musica instrumentalis—those melodies and harmonies born of
earthly music-making—were defined by the same numerical ratios that determined the spatial
distances among the planets and that laid the plan of the perfectly harmonious universe. Musica
mundana, or harmonia mundi, the music of the spheres, was the model of universal, eternal order and
harmony—cosmos. “The music of the spheres is one of our most complex traditions,” explains S. K.
Heninger, Jr.:
It represents the concept of order as order prevails in the heavens, a divine plan that informs
and controls our universe. It also provides the perfect pattern for art in any medium that
purports to be true, the ideal of beauty in esthetics which provokes the most exquisite
1 Smith, 1:126.

175
sensual response. It encompasses the full range of Pythagorean reality, from the highest
celestial abstraction to the most affective of human experiences. Whenever that sweet
harmony touches our lives, we are changed, improved, brought closer to divinity.2
Music depicted an ideal of perfection of balance, harmony, order, and unity. It not only mapped the
divine blueprint of the heavens, but it also simultaneously served as the vibratory, driving force
behind the elegant, constant motion of the heavenly bodies in their orbits. This mesmerizing
phenomenon known as the cosmic dance “acts always in the same respects, in the same way, and
from the same causes,” according to Platonic thought.3 It marked the highest form of intelligence:
“this is the nature of the stars, fairest to see, and passing along, dancing the fairest and most
magnificent of all dances in the world, they perform their service to all living creatures.” That service
was providing the very archetype of perfect harmony upon which the arts were modeled and strove
to imitate.
If musica instrumentalis was an audible representation of the fixed harmony of the spheres, a
comparable movement was needed to complete the cosmic image of the orbiting planets. The
repetitive, ordered, curated movements of dance—a sign of unparalleled intelligence—as prescribed
in choreographies offered this opportunity. When properly controlled and mastered—“By heavenly
inclination rather than through haphazardly happening,” as Ambrosio insisted, echoing Plato4
—
these well-ordered movements mirrored the cosmic dance. Dancers needed only to move
consciously and virtuously for their movements to bring them closer to the image of the universe.
They aspired to imitate the heavenly bodies, which turned effortlessly and unwaveringly upon their
spheres, set in motion by the numerical proportions that formed musical harmony. In the words of
2 S. K. Heninger, Jr., Touches of Sweet Harmony, 2 ed. (Tacoma, WA: Angelico Press, 2013), 179. 3 Plato, Charmides, Alcibiades, Hipparchus, Lovers, Theages, Minos, Epinomis, trans. W.R.M. Lamb (Cambridge, MA:
Harvard University Press, 1927), 455-57. 4 Smith, 1:127.

176
Arbeau, in his final envoi to Orchesographie, if respecting the art de bien danser, “you will become a
partner of the planets who dance naturally….”5
Thus, dance in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries was not simply the outward physical and
emotional expression of musical harmonies stirring the humors and spirit. Rather, it was “a
challenge and stimulus to the intellect more than to the senses,” as Daniel Heartz expressed.6
Without further elucidation at the time, Heartz had touched upon a point integral to the bassadanza
and, especially, basse danse, whose austere, isometric melodies were internalized by the human
microcosm and whose intricate, hypnotic choreographies it externalized. The challenge that the
dance presented assumed a great metaphysical importance. Contemplating its orderly arranged
movements and harmonious perfect consonances could bring one closer to a comprehension of the
divine, intangible workings of the universe—musica mundana and the cosmic dance.7
5 “practiquez les dances honnestement, & vous rendez compagnon des planettes qui dancent naturellement,” Arbeau,
fol. 104r.
6 Heartz, “The Basse Dance,” 295; see also Ch. 1, n58. 7 For some further reading on this subject, see the list of sources under “‘Speculative’ Music, Philosophy, the Harmony
of the Spheres, and the Cosmic Dance” in the bibliography, pp. 191-92.

177
Figure 7.1: Franchinus Gaffurius, Practica musicae (Milan, 1496), frontispiece

178
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Music and Choreographies
Primary Sources – originals (digitized), facsimile editions, translations of single sources, and
sourcebooks
Arena, Anthonius. Anthonius arena Soleriensis Provincialis ad suos compagniones studiantes, qui sunt de persona
friantes, bassas dansas in gallanti stillo compositas …. N.P.; Lyon?, 1528/9.
Arena, Antonius. “Rules of Dancing,” translated by John Guthrie and Marino Zorzi. Journal of the
Society for Dance Research 4, no. 2 (Autumn, 1986): 3-53.
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Abstract (if available)

Abstract The most prominent court dance of the fifteenth century was the bassadanza in Italy and the basse danse in France and Burgundy. More than a mere pastime, the controlled, elegant, gliding steps of this “low” dance-type served the upper classes as a means of flexing, flaunting, and validating their grace and station, which earned it the reputation of being the “queen” that reigned over the other court dances. As an activity that was so pertinent to and infused into the culture of high society, this dance comes down to us through manuals that largely seem to have served as aides-mémoire for particular members of the aristocracy. The oftentimes sketchy descriptions they contain gave modern scholars too much room for interpretation as to how to execute to the movements of the dance. Additionally, the surviving, enigmatic monophonic tunes left scholars grasping for answers as to how to perform the music and how precisely it accompanied the choreographies.

This study explores the entire history and development of the genre. We begin at the turn of the fifteenth century, observing the origin of this dance-type in art song. The tenor voices of songs of a certain character and meter were extracted and were treated as preexisting foundational melodies, around which new musical lines were spun. This led to complete autonomy in which new dance tunes (tenors) appeared. We explore the process by which a song became dedicated dance music and, working in reverse, a song could be derived from a dance setting. The study continues to trace, for the first time, the emergence of independent Italian and Franco-Burgundian traditions in the dance in both movement and music. By mid-century, the choreographies were beginning to indicate different local customs, but only by the end of the century do these choreographic differences become blatantly clear as the basse danse crystallizes in a dance form wholly different from the bassadanza. We then continue into the sixteenth century to observe how the basse danse continued to change as it became a popular dance of city and town, no longer confined to the court sphere, marked by a simplification in its choreography and its return to a closer relationship with song as the repertoire was being updated to suit contemporary tastes.

As the dance evolved, the most prominent musical changes have to do with meter, rhythm, and pulse, which mark the principal characteristics that define each new stage. This sweeping evolutionary arc is synthesized in a culminating case study that uses perhaps the most popular extant dance tune, and one that attests to each step in the genre’s development in both music and choreography, "La Spagna."

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Creator Bregman, Adam (author)

Core Title The queen of courtly dance: music and choreography of the bassadanza and basse danse

School Thornton School of Music

Degree Doctor of Philosophy

Degree Program Music (Historical Musicology)

Degree Conferral Date 2024-05

Publication Date 05/23/2024

Defense Date 03/25/2024

Publisher Los Angeles, California (original), University of Southern California (original), University of Southern California. Libraries (digital)

Tag bassadanza,basse danse,dance,early modern,early music,Historical Musicology,la Spagna,Music,OAI-PMH Harvest,renaissance

Format theses (aat)

Language English

Contributor Electronically uploaded by the author (provenance)

Advisor Gilbert, Adam Knight (committee chair), Brown, Bruce Alan (committee member), Gilbert, Rotem (committee member), Morrison, Leah (committee member), Smith, Bruce R. (committee member)

Creator Email adam.bregman@gmail.com,ajbregma@usc.edu

Permanent Link (DOI) https://doi.org/10.25549/usctheses-oUC113956537

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Legacy Identifier etd-BregmanAda-13020

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