In the year 552, a ceremony was held to commemorate the first anniversary of the death of Martha, mother of St Simeon Stylites the Younger. The Vita of St Martha, written by an anonymous monk during the first half of the seventh century, records that the priest Antonio journeyed from Simeon's pillar at Mount Admirabilis, near Antioch, to Jerusalem to obtain a fragment of the cross. When Antonio returned to Mount Admirabilis, ‘a great crowd of men and women gathered in the grace of God, with candles and torches, to hold the service in her memory: and having kept a vigil all night, when in the early morning the living cross was displayed, all who were gathered worshipped, crying out with hymns: We adore your cross, Lord, and we glorify your holy resurrection.’

In the twelfth century, the scriptorium of the Benedictine abbey in Lambach, Austria, was a flourishing centre of manuscript production. Surviving manuscripts of many genres testify to the quality and breadth of the artistic output of the monastery during this period. For a long time, no examples of chant manuscripts were known; recently, however, a number of fragmentary chant manuscripts have been identified, and more recently still a noted Missal preserved at Melk has been attributed to Lambach. The study of the fragments has led to the discovery of an innovative method of indicating mode and final at the monastery, using the tonary-letter system attributed to the St Gall monk Hartker.

It is common knowledge that the repertory of thirteenth-century Latin motets exhibits a great variety of poetic themes. Many of the earliest motets comment upon the feast of their parent chant and are therefore classified as ‘troping’; others praise the Virgin Mary – sometimes regardless of their associated chant; still others avoid obvious connections with the liturgy and either criticize, admonish or exhort listeners to reform. The classification of motet texts according to content has increased our understanding of overall themes and of the chronological relationships between them, but it has also raised questions. Some questions arise from the fact that the general categories of troping, Marian and hortatory texts are not mutually exclusive. Should we distinguish a ‘general’ Marian motet, like Virgo mater salutis (386) / JOHANNE (M 29), which superimposes general epithets and intercessions to the Virgin above a chant in honour of John the Baptist, from a ‘troping’ Marian motet, such as Flos de spina rumpitur (437), built over the Assumption tenor, REGNAT (M 34), which makes specific references to its associated feast? Or does this added taxonomic layer only distract us from the task of interpreting these texts?

In his lucid discussion of genre in medieval treatises on music, Lawrence Gushee states that: The main part of Gushee's discussion is taken up with documents written up to the thirteenth century; for that reason he pays only a brief visit to treatises written thereafter, recognizing, however, a generic category in ‘works of the later thirteenth and fourteenth centuries which can be classed together merely by virtue of their size and synthetic character’. Among these he counts the treatises of Jacques de Liège, Walter Odington, Engelbert of Admont, Marchettus of Padua and Jerome of Moravia. One could add a few others to this list, such as the Tractatus de musica of Magister Lambertus and the work largely derived from that one, the Quatuor principalia musicae. These are ‘synthetic’, to use Gushee's word, in that they attempt a comprehensive treatment of their subject – they cover both theoretical and practical aspects of pitch and rhythm, and usually begin with a mythic/historic overview of music and a classification scheme that situates it within the sphere of other disciplines.

Johannes Tinctoris, in the prologue to his Liber de arte contrapuncti of 1477, having demonstrated his wide literary and philosophical culture, and declared that, to his astonishment, no music over forty years old is deemed worthy by the learned of a hearing, praises five living composers and three recently deceased, whose works are of such sweet savour that he judges them worthy even of the immortal gods; in so elegant a context only the pagan phrase will serve. He continues (§18): ‘Ea quoque profecto numquam audio, numquam considero quin laetior ac doctior evadam, unde quemadmodum Virgilius in illo opere divino Eneidos Homero, ita iis hercule in meis opusculis utor archetypis’.

Though so much medieval chant is anonymous – anonymity may even have been valued as expressing humility – recent articles have focused on some of the individuals who are known to have created texts and melodies for the liturgy. V. Frangeskou is one of two authors to have looked at texts by Gregory of Nazianzen, known as Gregory the Theologian, a fourth-century patriarch of Constantinople whose writings were the source of many Greek chant texts. Two other articles look at the sixth-century kontakion-poet Romanos, specifically his ‘Lament of the Mother of God’ and his apparent indebtedness to an apocryphal Gospel.