The first half of the sixteenth century witnessed a great flowering of organ composition in England, consisting mainly of music based on liturgical melodies. However, this development was for the greater part cut short by the Reformation, to be continued only in an idealized way by musicians such as John Blitheman, John Bull, and Thomas Tomkins. By ca. 1570 the genre was largely replaced by secular keyboard music for plucked keyboard instruments, a repertoire that would develop into an even more important tradition. We have only a few pieces from before that period that provide the background for the flowering afterwards, such as the handful of secular pieces found in the manuscripts “RA 58” and “Mulliner.” Most notable are the three works from “RA 58,” all of them grounds that include a vigorous Hornpipe by Hugh Aston (ca. 1485–1558). More substantial is the “Dublin Virginal Manuscript” that originated around 1570 in London, at a time when William Byrd’s novel keyboard approach must already have been in full swing. It consists of thirty dances: pavans, galliards, almandes and corantos often based on Franco-Flemish and Italian ground patterns and, as a rule, set with a florid treble supported by a simple rhythmically enlivened left-hand part.
There can be little doubt that the term “virginals” was used generically in England for all plucked instruments, including the harpsichord. Henry VIII possessed many, such as a “longe virginalls made harp fashion”; that is, a harpsichord.1 However, the actual virginal as described below seems to have been the instrument of choice. For example, there is the eloquent testimony in Parthenia that it contains “the first musicke that ever was printed for the virginalls” as the title page has it, along with a depiction of a woman playing the instrument. There also survives a fine Venetian virginal made by Giovanni Antonio Baffo that belonged to Queen Elizabeth.
Regarding the instrument itself, it is important to note that English (and Italian) virginals were all of the “spinet” type, with a plucking point close to the bridge, as opposed to the Flemish “muselars,” with a central plucking point and a much different sound. It is indeed surprising how the repertoire comes alive on these simple instruments with only a single set of strings and no registrational possibilities. Byrd remains rather conservative in his demands of the range, often being content with the old-fashioned thirty-eight-note keyboard of F, G, A to g2, a2 or forty-two-note C/E to a2, though a few pieces use F♯ and G♯ in the bottom octave as well. C, D, E to a2 remained the standard range with the later virginalists, occasionally using the low AA as well. The standard tuning for the repertoire was meantone, in all likelihood of the -comma type with slightly larger than pure major thirds, and with a choice of either E♭s or D♯s.2 This seems to be confirmed by the fact that many virginalist pieces (especially those of Byrd) have a final harmony with the major third in the treble.
Virginalists and Sources
The most important composer for the virginal by far was William Byrd (1540–1623). A pupil of Thomas Tallis, Byrd was organist at Lincoln from 1563–1572 and in 1573 became Gentleman at the Chapel Royal in London, where from 1575 onwards he served as organist. In this capacity he developed into the leading English composer of his time, becoming equally proficient in writing for the Roman Catholic rites (masses and motets) and those of the Reformed church (anthems and services), as well as secular songs, madrigals, and instrumental music. The result was a vast oeuvre without parallel in its day in terms of scope and variety. While many of Byrd’s continental peers were also expert keyboard improvisers, Byrd was the first of the “mainstream” composers to give equal status and importance to both keyboard and polyphonic vocal music. The sonic potential of the harpsichord and virginal allowed him to develop a very personal and expressive keyboard style, while still paying lip service to the cantus-firmus tradition for organ in his early pieces. However, Byrd soon abandoned strictly polyphonic music idiomatic to the organ and developed a freer approach eminently suited for plucked instruments, applying this new style to as many genres as were available to him: pavans and galliards, variations, grounds, fantasias, hexachord settings, and smaller dances. Considering Byrd’s renown, it is not surprising that his music can be found in many sources, the most important of which are Nevell, Fitzwilliam, Parthenia, Forster, and Weelkes. My Ladye Nevells Booke (Nevell) was written under his supervision and completed in 1591; its forty-two pieces form an anthology of his best keyboard music written up to that date. He is, moreover, the best-represented composer in the other sources, which all date from well after 1600.
Although other virginalist-composers were heavily influenced by Byrd, their output does not compare to their aged mentor in terms of quality and depth. Nevertheless, almost all of them managed to produce a number of masterpieces, particularly John Bull (ca. 1563–1628), the only virginalist who left a keyboard oeuvre of comparable size to Byrd’s. Between 1574 and 1582, Bull was Child at the Chapel Royal, where his organ tutor was John Blitheman, whom he succeeded in 1591. In those years he was no doubt also taught by Byrd. In 1613 Bull was forced to flee England because of a sex scandal and spent a brief period at the Brussels Archducal court before moving on to Antwerp, where he became cathedral organist in 1617. Here he continued to write keyboard music, although Flemish sources of his music are not very reliable and are thus the main impediment in establishing the authenticity of his keyboard works.3 The foremost keyboard virtuoso of his day, Bull composed very little beyond this realm, thus explaining why many of his pieces demand a high degree of technical proficiency by the player. His music, moreover, reveals an interesting mixture of the old organ style of his teacher Blitheman and the new one of Byrd, combined with some highly personal idiosyncratic and sometimes even eccentric tendencies. The main sources for his pre-1613 music are the probably holograph manuscript Paris 1185, containing seventy pieces, and the Fitzwilliam, with about fifty pieces.
Bull had been confronted by a serious rival during his final years at the Chapel Royal, in the person of the Oxfordian Orlando Gibbons (1583–1625), who was appointed in 1605 as Bull’s organist colleague. Although considered by some as “the best finger of that age,” comparatively little remains of Gibbons’s keyboard music that, with its emphasis on learned contrapuntal work and controlled keyboard virtuosity, represents perhaps the most direct continuation of Byrd’s style.4 In contrast with the other major virginalists, the source situation for Gibbons’s keyboard music is less than ideal. No autographs or other manuscripts close to the composer have been preserved, and he is only poorly represented in Fitzwilliam – a fact that has been attributed to the Catholic bias of its compiler, Francis Tregian. Only the Cosyn Manuscript contains a fair amount of his keyboard music. On the other hand, he was in all likelihood the editor of the 1613 Parthenia, which includes six outstanding pieces by him.
Thomas Tomkins (1572–1656) was a pupil of Byrd from 1594–1596, and subsequently organist and choirmaster at Worcester Cathedral, a post he held for a full half-century. In 1646 the Civil War reached the city, resulting in the suspension of services and the destruction of the organ. Tomkins also worked as Gentleman Extraordinary and from 1625 was Gibbons’s successor as organist at the Chapel Royal. Like Byrd and Gibbons, his main focus as a composer was on vocal polyphony. Not much keyboard music from his early years survives – principally the five brilliant pieces included in Fitzwilliam. We would have been in an even worse situation than we are with Gibbons had it not been for the chance survival of a very late autograph (Paris 1122, in itself the sole survivor of a whole set of keyboard manuscripts) that contains music written by Tomkins at a very advanced age, between 1647 and 1654. These pieces show a staunchly conservative composer reviving the grand virginalist tradition in a very personal way.
Byrd’s pupil Thomas Morley (ca. 1558–1602), a famous madrigalist and the author of an important treatise (A Plaine and Easie Introduction to Practicall Musicke, 1597), left a dozen or so pieces of varying quality. More important are the works of another early Byrd pupil, Peter Philips (1560/61–1628). He left England as a Catholic recusant as early as 1582 and, after much traveling, settled in the southern Netherlands in 1590, becoming principal organist at the Archducal court in Brussels in 1597. His keyboard music contains a fascinating mixture of English, Italian, and Flemish elements. An “amateur” composer of considerable merit was Giles Farnaby (ca. 1563–1640), a wood joiner and probably virginal maker by trade. He is well represented in the Fitzwilliam, and his music shows him to be an ardent follower of Bull, though with a distinctly personal if not whimsical touch. The same cannot be said of Benjamin Cosyn (ca. 1590–1653) who was a true Bull epigone by taking many models and melodies treated by Bull and expanding upon them ad infinitum. Through Cosyn’s hands survive two major manuscripts: Paris 1185, the primary source for Bull, and the Cosyn Manuscript, which transmits not only his own works but also a significant portion of those by Gibbons.
The composers mentioned above were surrounded by a host of minor figures who left behind at most a handful of works for the virginal: John Mundy, Richard Farnaby (son of Giles), John Tomkins (brother of Thomas), William Inglott, William Tisdale, William Brown, John Lugge, Ferdinando Richardson, Thomas Weelkes, Martin Peerson, and others.
Pavans and Galliards
An especially striking feature of the Dublin Virginal Manuscript is the focus on pavan and galliard pairs. No fewer than six such pairs are specifically mentioned as such, and the collection places four of them at the head, beginning with a weighty “Passing Measures” setting. This genre remained central throughout the virginalist era and nowhere more so than with William Byrd, who enriched this basically homophonic style with a thoroughly polyphonic approach, particularly in the pavans. According to Byrd’s pupil Morley, the pavan is “a kind of staide musicke, ordained for grave dauncing, and most commonlie made of three straines, whereof everie straine is plaid or song twice; a straine they make to containe 8. 12. or 16. semibreves as they list … in this musicke you must cast your music by foure … After every pavan we usually set a galliard … This is a lighter and more stirring kinde of dauncing then the pavane, consisting of the same number of straines.”6 Byrd emphasized the prime importance of this genre in Nevell by numbering them consecutively from one to ten – the only genre thus treated and therefore indeed forming the heart of the collection (see Table 2.1).
Table 2.1 William Byrd, Pavans and Galliards in Nevell (1591)
| 1. Pavan and Galliard c15 | |
| 2. Pavan and Galliard G2 | |
| 3. Pavan and Galliard a1 | |
| 4. Pavan and Galliard C1 | |
| 5. Pavan and Galliard c2 | |
| 6. Pavan and Galliard C2 | Kinborough Good |
| 7. Pavan G6 | Canon: 2 in 1 |
| 8. Pavan a4 | |
| 9. Pavan and Galliard g1 | Passing Measures |
| 10. Pavan and Galliard g2 | William Petre |
The original plan was a series of nine works crowned by the monumental double setting of the passamezzo antico (“Passing Measures”), found as a closed entity as numbers 10–25 in the manuscript, only to be augmented towards the end of the book by a freshly composed pair (numbers 39–40). Byrd clearly thought highly of this pair, as can be seen by its inclusion in Parthenia twenty-two years later, with only minor revisions and the addition of a trendy little prelude. That we are dealing here with a chronological ordering is confirmed by the nature of the first pair, which, according to an annotation by Tregian in Fitzwilliam, formed “the first that ever hee made,” and in addition was arranged from a consort original. All galliards except number nine are built from eight-bar strains, as are two of the pavans (numbers two and four). The latter are obviously made to try out a lighter type of pavan since, other than number nine, all are constructed with sixteen-bar strains (the “Passing Measures” pair greatly exceeds this scheme with 6×32 and 9×16 bars respectively). Most surprising, the cycle includes no fewer than two sets in C minor, in which the composer seems to rely on the possibility of retuning the G♯s into A♭s. A particularly beautiful work is the second of these (Pavan and Galliard c2), which takes full advantage of what is a rather exotic key within the meantone system, as described in Table 2.2.
Table 2.2 Byrd’s Pavan and Galliard c2, Sketch of Harmonic Development
| Strain | Pavan | Galliard |
|---|---|---|
| I. | c – (B♭) – G / c – C | c – G / c – (B♭) – C |
| II. | F – g – D / B♭– d – G | F – c – g – G / g – (d) – c – G |
| III. | E♭– B♭– G / c – C | g – c – C / c – G – C |
While the finals of all strains are the standard ones, the extent of harmonic development of both pieces is rather wide, while also related to a great extent. All strains consist of two longer phrases (the so-called twin-cadence scheme), the clearest being in the galliard. Both movements open with a strain in which tonic and dominant are firmly exposed. The second strains are much more adventurous and colorful in their own way, although the opening and closing harmonies are identical. In the pavan, this rich harmonic palette spills over into the third strain to such an extent that the tonic of C minor is barely touched upon before the tonic major is reached. It thus seems that the pavan is not conceived as a self-sufficient movement, as its harmonic tension is only resolved in the galliard, which in its third strain completely restores the tonic minor before concluding in the major. Though far from being variations, the opening melodic lines of both pieces are closely related, while both third strains are characterized by a striking imitative motif. The particular liveliness of the galliard is in no small measure attributable to the systematic exploration of two types of hemiolas: one over two bars (first and third strains) and the other within the bar (second strain).
Although the Nevell cycle is rich in content, it still does not do justice to the full range of Byrd’s achievement in this genre, as a host of further pairs and individual movements transmitted elsewhere testify. Most of them appear to have been written after 1591 and right up to the 1613 publication of Parthenia. New territories are explored, as in a fine set in the unusual key of B♭ and a pair (Pavan and Galliard G5) exploring the felicities of echo writing – a compositional technique very common around 1600, particularly in poetry. Also new is Byrd’s willingness to enter into a creative discourse with his contemporaries, such as in the Pavans and Galliards C3 and F2, in which pavans by Bull (Lord Lumley) and Morley (Pavan in F) respectively seem to have been used as a springboard. Byrd even created a pair by arranging in very ornate fashion two dances by differing composers: John Dowland’s famous Lachrymae Pavan, coupled with a galliard by James Harding. Byrd’s activity in this field reaches its conclusion in two rather opposite pieces composed (it seems) especially for Parthenia: the Pavan with two Galliards a2, and the Galliard C4. The former piece is dedicated to the memory of the Earl of Salisbury (Robert Cecil), who died in May 1612. The Pavan employs an unusually simple style in its first two movements, further emphasized by the restriction to two eight-bar strains and the relinquishing of the usual ornamented repeats. The second galliard, perhaps an afterthought, restores the three-strain format but still does without the varied repeats. By contrast, the Mary Brownlow Galliard C4 forms Byrd’s most ornate exemplar in this genre, incorporating frequent sixteenth-note writing (as became standardized in the galliards of his younger contemporaries such as Bull or Gibbons) that has been shown to form a comment upon Bull’s Prince’s Galliard, in itself a fine and brilliant work. Byrd’s subtle mastery of the rhythmic possibilities of the galliard is much in evidence here, as is his wonderful command of melody, turning this “parody” into a very personal, affective composition.
Byrd’s practice of strictly following a structure in “foures” (as described by Morley) in his pavans and galliards was often considerably relaxed by his successors, and nowhere more so than in the many examples by John Bull, who was more often than not remarkably successful in creating original music within this mold. The best, which are mostly provided with suggestive titles, include the Fantastic, Melancholy, Lord Lumley and Chromatic pavan-galliard pairs. The latter is alternatively known as “Queen Elizabeth’s Pavan” (and Galliard) and was thus probably written in commemoration of the Queen’s death in March 1603. In the pavan, Bull achieves maximum differentiation of his strains (made out of 16 + 18 + 16 bars, which along with the ornamented repeats results in the “perfect” number of 100 measures). The opening strain, a distant echo of Dowland’s Lachrymae, features a wonderfully expressive upper line that climbs to the high a2 in its middle and then slowly descends again by means of affective “suspiratio” figures. In the second strain the ascending chromatic lines soon give way to a sorrowful descending chromaticism, while the third strain forms a complete contrast, remaining in A major throughout and incorporating a high-pitch “cantus firmus” as well as much use of the subdominant harmony (a characteristic of Bull, which also appears in the major), giving the impression of a long drawn-out plagal cadence. The galliard (12 + 8 + 12 bars) adopts a different strategy by reserving the chromaticism for the last strain. The first two strains are dominated by dotted rhythms and the mapping out of the normal degrees within the mode used here, which is the ninth mode on A (I, III, IV, V and VII). The third strain, however, is completely modulatory in character, spiraling from the dominant (V), with the help of chromatic cross dominants via the supertonic to the sharpened mediant degree (VI), or F♯ major. Since the rest of the pair remains within the bounds of meantone tuning (with D♯s), it may very well be that the striking modulations in the third strain were meant to deliberately sound out of tune. The effect appears indeed dramatic and entirely appropriate within the context of this pair, making the rapid modulation returning to a bright A major all the more conclusive and triumphant.
The most “virginalistic” works of the exile Peter Philips are his pavans and galliards. A single-standing Pavan in G, apparently written while still in England in 1580, became one of the most famous pieces of the repertoire, its cantus firmus-like third strain a much-copied feature, similar to the Bull pavan described above. Philips’s Pavan and Galliard Dolorosa from 1593, written during a brief spell in a Dutch prison (he dabbled in acts of espionage), and the one on the passamezzo antico stand out as well, the latter pair forming some sort of modernization of Byrd’s “Passing Measures” set.7 The pavans of Orlando Gibbons, on the other hand, have been shown to be inspired by Dowland’s Lachrymae – especially the one in G minor, which might have been written as an epitaph for the young Prince Henry, who died in November 1612.8 Another, in A minor, was written on the death of Lord Salisbury, who, as we have noted, died in May of the same year. One of the high points of virginal music, it was included in Parthenia and complemented by an equally impressive galliard.
Important too are the pavans and galliards by Tomkins. Though copied out separately in Fitzwilliam, the large chromatic Pavan in A (an arrangement of a consort original) and the sprightly Hunting Galliard in the same key may very well have been intended as a pair. For the other pavans and galliards, we have to turn to the late autograph which contains three pairs as a well as a series of single-standing pavans. Famous among the latter is the Sad Pavan for these distracted Tymes, completed on 14 February 1649 and written at a point when the Royalist cause was lost and King Charles I had been executed. It foregoes not only the varied repeats but surprisingly also any chromatic writing; instead there is consort-like polyphony and an introverted mood. A masterpiece of a very different nature is the Earl Strafford Pavan and Galliard from 1647, in which the dense imitative writing of the main strains is countered with elaborate figurations in the repeats, also encompassing exhilarating long sequences and (in the galliard) vigorous rhythmical playfulness.
Grounds and Variations
The variation is clearly the dominant principle in the virginalist repertoire. Its main genres – excluding the fantasia (see below) – are all based on it, such as the varied repeats in the dances as well as the grounds and melodic variation sets. Sometimes genres are blurred: the passamezzo sets can be seen as both pavan and galliard pairs and as grounds, while several of Byrd’s pieces in particular are both grounds and (partial) melodic variations. Fortune my foe (set by Byrd and Thomas Tomkins), moreover, uses the passamezzo antico as harmonic basis, while the passamezzo moderno (“Quadran”) can be recognized below the tune of “John come kiss me now” (set by Byrd and John Tomkins).
As has been seen, the ground was one of the main traditional techniques of secular keyboard music and, as a consequence, plays an important role in Byrd’s early keyboard music. This is clearest in the early Hornpipe, obviously written in emulation of Hugh Aston’s piece of that name. In what appears to be Byrd’s last “traditional” ground, he uses yet another of Aston’s bass patterns, but in this case the direct model has been lost. Hughe Ashtons Grownde, entered towards the end of Nevell, forms a powerful large-scale work. There is, however, no question that his two passamezzo pairs represent the pinnacle in this field. At some point during the decade after Nevell, his setting of the passamezzo antico (Nevell cycle no. 9) was followed by a Pavan and Galliard on the “moderno” bass (“Quadran”), which forms an even richer work. It was probably written as a response to Bull’s first Quadran Pavan (solely preserved in Fitzwilliam), a piece of exactly the same structure and length as Byrd’s.9 Bull in his turn might have answered Byrd’s great setting with an even more densely written and virtuosic version (named Variation of the Quadran Pavan in Fitzwilliam). Tomkins aptly characterized the rival settings as “excellent for the hand” (Bull) and “excellent for matter” (Byrd).10
In contrast with the ground and the fantasia, Byrd continued to write melodic variations until the end of his career, though, for some unknown reason, none were included in Parthenia. The range is very wide, showing the composer’s sensitivity to the chosen melodies. There are vigorous early dance sets (Gypsies’ and Sellinger’s Rounds); colorful, rustic settings of folk tunes (The Carman’s Whistle, The Woods so wild); understated lyricism (All in a Garden Greene, Callino casturame); and late-period exuberance (Go from my window, John come kiss me now). The most outstanding, however, is Walsingham (already appearing in Nevell), a lengthy but inexhaustible work consisting of twenty-two variations. Its most conspicuous feature is its constantly migrating tune, almost always moving in each variation between treble and tenor. Byrd even manages two bass and alto variations each, the latter achieved by using the same pitch as the treble variations while adding a free-ranging high soprano above the alto.
The large number of thirty variations which make up John Bull’s famous Walsingham was no doubt meant to outdo Byrd’s set, but the aim was rather different than Bull’s reaction to Byrd’s Quadran Pavan, Byrd’s motivic and polyphonic refinement here being replaced by great virtuosity and a certain harmonic brilliance. Bull did not copy Byrd’s method of alternating pitches but rather placed these firmly in the treble, while also setting the piece in the more brilliant key of A minor instead of Byrd’s quite subdued G minor. In contrast with the other virginalists, however, Giles Farnaby clearly preferred more modern if not raucous tunes, and it is here that his most valuable contributions to the repertoire are to be found, as in pieces like Rosasolis or Woody-Cock.
Fantasias and Hexachords
A particularly fascinating part of Byrd’s keyboard oeuvre is formed by the fantasias. Here Byrd did break with a European tradition of the fantasia as a special art of the organist’s ability to improvise imitative (four-part) counterpoint – a secret art preferably not written down. In his seven written-out fantasias, Byrd reinterprets the fantasia as an eclectic concept in which imitation remains central but also incorporates elements of the canzona, song variation, ostinato and dance. As his pupil Morley explains (no doubt mimicking his much-revered master), in a fantasia the composer “selects a theme and wresteth and turneth it as he list, making either much or little of it according as shall seem best to his own conceit. In this more art may be showne than in any other musicke, because the composer is tide to nothing but that he may adde, diminish and alter at his pleasure,” and uses “bindings with discords, quicke motions, slow motions, proportions, and what you list.”11
Again, Byrd demonstrates an astonishing ability to craft highly sophisticated and individual pieces from this rather open and liberal concept. A case in point are the two mature “Fancies” copied out in close proximity towards the end of Nevell. Of comparable length and structure, their character could hardly be more different. The one in the Dorian mode (Fantasia d1) is a rather somber work, opening motet-like, followed by figuration that seems to “crash” into the polyphony. The Ionian work is lighter in touch, which is not only the result of the contrasting mode but also because of the generally higher tessitura and more clearly delineated sections with greater tonal variety. Whereas Fantasia d1 is laid out in four sections that all cadence on the tonic, Fantasia C2 exhibits a classical three-section form with a more differentiated construction and using subtle thematic metamorphoses and greater tonal variety (see the right-hand column in Table 2.3 and Example 2.1).
Table 2.3 Byrd’s Fantasia C2
| Measures | Length (mm.) | Section | Texture | Key(s) |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Exordium (67) | ||||
| A 1–27 | 27 | exposition | imitative, instrumental | C–C |
| B 28–47 | 20 | interlude | quasi-homophonic, vocal | C–C |
| C 48–67 | 20 | counter-exposition | imitative, vocal/instrumental | C–D |
| Medium (67) | ||||
| D 68–79 | 12 | interlude | freely imitative, vocal | G–A |
| E 80–103 | 24 | development | figuration, instrumental | a–C |
| F 104–134 | 31 | sequential | instrumental, second half developing into running figuration | a |
| Finis (27) | ||||
| G 135–159 | 25 | sequential | imitative, vocal, then instrumental | a–C |
| H 160–161 | 2 | codetta | C | |
Example 2.1 William Byrd, Fantasia C2 (motivic analysis)
A solid point of departure is the opening theme A, which starts with a very instrumental ascending scale (x) and finishes with a few descending gestures (y) and a simple cadence (z). All elements are recycled in the course of the composition. Motif z is transformed into theme B for a very madrigalian, contrasting section. The instrumental and vocal aspect are then combined in another exordial section, in which a free inversion and augmentation of y (the vocal element) is juxtaposed with a variant of the instrumental scale x. This contrasting and subsequent combination of both polarities remains the central theme of the fantasia. The medium (which is exactly as long as the exordium) thus opens “vocally” with an augmented and inverted variant of x in stretto fashion (D) and is further devoted to instrumental variants: a partly diminished and shortened variant of x (see E) develops into some free figuration alternating quavers with semiquavers, which runs into a playful variant of x (motif F) treated sequentially, followed by more free figuration, now principally in continuous semiquavers. As befits the succinct finis, a synthesis and conclusion are reached, combining all previous elements. Thus at its outset, sequential writing is combined with imitation in close stretto (G), and the whole thirteen-bar paragraph is then repeated, overlayed with rapid figuration based on x. The verbatim repeat (a technique also used in Fantasia d1) makes the vocal/instrumental synthesis easily perceptible while also achieving a satisfying conclusion. The little codetta appended to it (H) hides a final eloquent variant of y.
The level of sophistication demonstrated in Fantasia C2 (and d1) is rare even for Byrd, as a comparison with some of the (earlier) other and much longer fantasias, such as a2 and G2, demonstrates. While rich in content and polyphony (the lengthy but exciting Fantasia a2 in particular), the structure is somewhat diffuse. Indeed, in contrast with the other genres it was not a concept easily continued by the following generations. There is one fantasia in grand virtuoso style by John Bull from his English period (d3), which is exceptionally loosely written. More convincing as a rounded piece are two fantasias, which are principally written in two parts (d1–2), especially the first. It opens with a string of lively imitations leading, in the second half, to an obsessive bass ostinato with increasingly agitated right-hand extemporizations; the accumulated tension is resolved in a triumphantly imitative four-part conclusion.
Bull’s influence is clearly evident in Farnaby’s eight fantasias, usually rambling improvisatory affairs; the longest one in G minor is perhaps the most rewarding in its lively and playful succession of ideas. An opposite approach to the fantasia is found with Orlando Gibbons, who reserved virtuoso figurations mainly for his variations and galliards. Indeed, the most successful examples have no sixteenth-note passages at all, only smooth counterpoint. Outstanding among these is the big Fantazia of foure parts in Parthenia, which shows a similar subtlety of motivic relations similar to Byrd’s Fantasia C2, but here concentrated on strict four-part polyphony and densely imitational writing. As with Gibbons, wide experience in the writing of consort music informs Tomkins’s strictly polyphonic fantasias, which are exclusively to be found in his retrospective autograph.
Although routinely classified as fantasias, the hexachord settings of the virginalists survive exclusively under the title Ut re mi fa sol la, thus clearly forming a self-contained genre. Byrd was again the trendsetter here, with two compositions in this category. In the first setting, the hexachord appears as a treble ostinato “to be playd by a second person,” under which the principal player weaves a tapestry of freely roaming imitations and figurations while managing to incorporate two folksongs along the way.12 The other (included in Nevell) uses the hexachord not only on the three principal degrees (G, C, and F) but also on three “exotic” pitches (D, A, and Bb), along with dense polyphony resulting in a rich work with the maximum of tonal variety achievable within the bounds of meantone tuning.
The idea behind both pieces was developed, if not radicalized, in two particularly brilliant pieces by Bull. In a lengthy treble ostinato setting, Bull does away with Byrd’s third hand, putting the main thrust of the often very virtuosic and dense writing in the left hand, resulting in one of the most difficult pieces in the entire repertoire. It no doubt stands as an emphatic demonstration of Bull’s keyboard prowess. A demonstration piece of a wholly different nature is present in the “chromatic” Ut re mi fa sol la. Here Bull takes up the challenge of Byrd’s second setting and doubles the number of degrees of the older work, thereby arriving at all twelve degrees of the chromatic scale, leading to radical modulations and enharmonic writing. Naturally, meantone tuning is no longer possible for such a work, and some sort of circular tuning has to be presumed. To make his intentions clear, he copies Byrd’s number of hexachord entries (17) as well as again taking G as the principal key. He covers all chromatic degrees in two sets of six entries in whole-tone distance (G-A-B-Db-Eb-F, then Ab-Bb-C-D-E-F♯) and concludes with five more entries on the tonic. Here digital virtuosity is replaced by compositional virtuosity of an experimental nature.13
While Farnaby poked fun at the somewhat ponderous hexachord tradition in the satirical His Humour, Cosyn and Tomkins produced lengthy ostinato settings, similar to Bull’s first setting. However, the hexachord tradition established by Byrd and Bull would be more rewardingly continued by the great keyboardists on the continent, such as Sweelinck, Scheidt, Hassler, or Frescobaldi.
Descriptive Pieces and Miniatures
In the field of descriptive music and small-scale pieces, Byrd was again the pioneer, not only introducing small dances such as corantos, almans, jigs, and voltas but creating in The Battle the first British cyclical keyboard piece. Byrd thought highly enough of the work to include it in Nevell, but he made sure to frame the actual nine-movement Battle sequence, with its blatant insistence on the C major harmony, with two musically more rewarding pieces (both in G): a March before the Battle and the Galliard for the Victory. A lively string of dance-like vignettes forms the similarly descriptive Barley Break, illustrating an open-air ball game popular in the 1580s. The much later Bells is both descriptive and with a ground (actually taking one element out of his Hornpipe), Byrd meets the challenge of being tied to just two adjacent notes treated as a ground with immense ingenuity.
A welcome side aspect of Bull the virtuoso is the many smaller pieces, some of them lyrical jewels such as the Duke of Brunswicks Alman, the various “Toys,” the Dutch Dance, as well as “autobiographical” pieces such as My Grief and My Self. His principal contribution to descriptive music is the celebrated King’s Hunt: a vigorous harpsichord piece whose exhilarating effect is enhanced by its original variation form: the two paragraphs are immediately repeated (AA1BB1), and this mold is then extended into two further variations. The whole structure thus actually consists of six dovetailed variations. The tradition of writing attractive character pieces ran through the virginalist era with a variety of contributions, such as Peerson’s The Fall of the Leafe, John Mundy’s Weather Fantasia, Farnaby’s Humour and Dreame, and Tomkins’s Lady Folliot’s Galliard and Perpetual Round, the latter forming the very last virginalist piece in existence, dated 8 September 1654.
Parthenia at the Crossroads
The 1613 Parthenia appears to be seminal not only because of it being the solitary print and combining the three principal masters Byrd, Bull, and Gibbons in a historically conscious way, but also because it appears to mark a real turning point in the history of virginal music. There is no evidence that Byrd wrote any more keyboard music in the remaining ten years of his life. Bull was to flee to the southern Netherlands later that year, altering his style almost beyond recognition while living there. Gibbons seems to have discontinued the production of keyboard music in the “grand” style after Parthenia, and no music survives by Farnaby beyond the Fitzwilliam, which was completed ca. 1617.14 Indeed, Gibbons’s apparent turn to smaller fare – mainly corantos and almans – has a parallel with the content of the modest sequel to Parthenia, the much smaller Parthenia In-Violata from 1624–1625. This set the tone for a notably more modest repertoire in British keyboard music in which the French influence becomes more and more apparent, lasting well into the Restoration period: simple settings of popular tunes and short dances. Only the long-lived Tomkins refused to give in to these new trends, instead creating in old age a remarkable but completely isolated revival of the golden age of English keyboard music.
Key to Source Citations
- Cosyn
GB-Lbl, R.M.L. 23.1.4 (Cosyn autograph, 1620 and earlier)
- Dublin
EIR-Dtc, TCD MS D.3.30 (Dublin Virginal Manuscript, ca. 1570)
- Forster
GB-Lbl, R.M.L. 24.d.3 (Will Forster’s Virginal Book, 1624)
- Fitzwilliam
GB-Cfm, Mus. MS 168 (Fitzwilliam Virginal Book, written by Francis Tregian, ca. 1612–1619)
- Mulliner
GB-Lbl, Add. MS 30513 (Thomas Mulliner, ca. 1550–1575)
- Nevell
GB-Lbl, MS Mus. 1591 (My Ladye Nevells Booke, 1591)
- Paris 1122
F-Pn, c, Rés. 1122 (Tomkins autograph, 1647–54)
- Paris 1185
F-Pn, Fonds du Conservatoire, Rés. 1185 (Bull autograph[?])
- Parthenia
Parthenia or the maydenhead of the first musicke that ever was printed for the virginalls (London, 1612/13)
- RA 58
GB-Lbl, MS Roy. App. 58 (ca. 1530)
- Weelkes
GB-Lbl, Add. MS 30485 (Weelkes Manuscript, ca. 1610)
