---
title: From Ars Nova to the Renaissance: How Notation Changed Music
dek: Rhythm took two centuries longer than pitch to notate. Mensural notation solved it with ratios, and the Renaissance then replaced black ink with white.
topic: history
tags: [notation, mensural notation, renaissance]
date: 2026-09-25
author: Yunus Emre Vurgun
level: intermediate
related: [clefs-and-transposition, first-species-counterpoint, rise-of-functional-tonality]
---

A staff puts a note in pitch space, and position is cheap to draw. Duration is not a position but a relationship: a note is short only next to a longer one, and a page of polyphony has to state that relationship for every voice at once. European music had a workable pitch notation by the eleventh century and no workable rhythmic notation until the fourteenth, and the system that finally arrived, mensural notation, is the direct ancestor of the note values you read today.

## Pitch was the easy problem

The earliest Western notation was not a staff. Ninth-century scribes wrote neumes, small signs above a text that recorded the shape of a melodic gesture well enough for a singer who already knew the melody. The next step was to give the signs vertical position: heighted neumes, then a single line drawn through them, then several lines. Guido of Arezzo, working in the eleventh century, is conventionally credited with the four-line staff and with the syllables ut, re, mi, fa, sol, la taken from the hymn *Ut queant laxis*, which gave singers a way to name and find the intervals.

That system solves pitch and ignores duration, because chant has only one voice. The rhythm comes from the words, from the syllable lengths, and from a performing tradition no notation needed to record. The moment a second voice is added, the notation fails. Two singers in different ranges still have to agree on *when*, and nothing on the page says when.

## Mensural notation: value as a ratio

Thirteenth-century scribes began to carry duration in the shape of the note, and the fourteenth century completed the system by adding the semibrevis and the minima to the older brevis and longa. What makes mensural notation look alien is that the value of a shape was not fixed. It depended on the mensuration in force, that is, on how many of the next smaller value the shape contained.

Four relationships did the work:

- **modus maior**: how many longae in a maxima, two or three
- **modus minor**: how many breves in a longa
- **tempus**: how many semibreves in a brevis
- **prolatio**: how many minimae in a semibrevis

Three of something was called perfect, two imperfect. Fourteenth-century theorists attached Trinitarian weight to the number three, which is part of why perfect mensuration carried prestige, but the practical effect was arithmetic: the same written note meant different lengths in different pieces, and the mensuration sign at the start told you which.

| Sign | Tempus | Prolatio | Semibreves per breve | Minimae per semibrevis |
| --- | --- | --- | --- | --- |
| O | perfect | minor | 3 | 2 |
| O with a dot | perfect | major | 3 | 3 |
| C | imperfect | minor | 2 | 2 |
| C with a dot | imperfect | major | 2 | 3 |

The note shapes, written in black ink before the fifteenth century:

| Shape | Name | Contains | Conventional modern value |
| --- | --- | --- | --- |
| filled rectangle | maxima | 2 or 3 longae | none |
| rectangle with a stem | longa | 2 or 3 breves | none |
| filled square | brevis | 2 or 3 semibreves | double whole note |
| filled lozenge | semibrevis | 2 or 3 minimae | whole note |
| lozenge with a stem | minima | the smallest value | half note |
| stem with one flag | semiminima | half a minima | quarter note |

The modern equivalents in the right-hand column are conventions of transcription, not facts about the fourteenth century; how long a semibrevis lasted depended on tempo, which was not notated at all. The shapes also interacted. In perfect mensuration a note could be *imperfected* by a following smaller value, losing a third of its length, or *altered* by a following note of the same value, which doubled it. Readers were trained for years to resolve these contexts at sight.

## Ars Nova: duple time gets equal standing

The phrase *ars nova* comes from a treatise usually dated to the 1320s and attributed to Philippe de Vitry. Later writers used *ars antiqua* for the older style, sometimes with contempt, and music historians turned both labels into period names for French music of roughly 1310 to 1375.

The change the label marks is not a new emotion or a new genre. It is the acceptance of duple division as a legitimate, fully notated basis for music. Earlier thirteenth-century notation had treated triple division as the norm and duple as a tolerated exception; after the Ars Nova both were structural, and the semibrevis and minima became the working units of the rhythmic surface. That is what made the notation of Guillaume de Machaut's songs and motets possible, and his *Messe de Nostre Dame* is usually described as the earliest complete polyphonic setting of the Mass Ordinary by a single named composer.

At the end of the century the system was pushed further still. The repertory called Ars subtilior, associated with the papal court at Avignon and preserved in manuscripts such as the Chantilly Codex, uses proportional signs, coloured notes, and notated canons that make the page itself the puzzle. It is notation written for specialists, and it is a useful reminder that complexity in a system is not the same thing as expressive depth.

## White notation and the printed partbook

The fifteenth century changed the ink before it changed the logic. Scribes moved to hollow shapes for the longer values and kept filled shapes for the shortest ones, a system modern editors call white notation. Hollow rectangles and lozenges took less ink, wore the paper less, and read more clearly at a distance than a page of solid black. The underlying mensural arithmetic stayed exactly where it was.

Proportional signs handled the cases where the surface had to change without a new mensuration. A sign such as sesquialtera told the performer to sing three of a value in the time previously given to two, which is the notated form of the hemiola a Renaissance singer feels at a cadence.

[keys bpm=80]C4+E4 C4+E4 C4+E4 G3+D4 G3+D4 G3+D4[/keys]

Six equal written notes. Whether they fall as three plus three or as an even six is a decision the mensuration and proportion signs make, not the note shapes, and the same page read under a different sign produces a different piece.

Printing then fixed the layout. Ottaviano Petrucci's *Harmonice Musices Odhecaton*, printed in Venice in 1501, is the first printed collection of polyphonic music, and like most polyphonic prints of the period it appeared in partbooks: one voice per book, four singers around a table, no score anywhere. That format is why so much Renaissance music survives only as separate lines, and why a modern editor's first job is often to work out what the vertical sonorities actually were.

## What the performer supplied

Three things a modern score gives you were left to the singer.

**Musica ficta.** Accidentals were written only when they were unusual. Everything else fell under conventions: the cadential leading tone was raised even when the signature did not say so, and the note a fifth above the final tended to be flattened to keep the tritone out of the mode. Fourteenth- and fifteenth-century scribes and theorists compressed this into mnemonics, one of which runs *una nota super la semper est canendum fa*, a note above la is always sung fa.

[keys]D4 C#4 D4[/keys]

A cadence on D. The C is sharpened by convention to make a leading tone, and nothing on the page marks it.

[keys]D4 C4 D4[/keys]

The same figure with the signature left alone: the modal sixth step, no leading tone, a weaker and older close. Both readings exist in the sources, and which one a modern performer chooses is an editorial position.

**Text underlay.** Manuscripts frequently give text only to the top voice. Where the syllables fall in the lower voices was decided by convention and by the singers, so editions differ on which note carries which syllable.

**Tempo.** Not notated. The proportional signs give relative tempo, and a vertical stroke through the C sign, later called cut time or diminution, indicated that the same values went by at roughly double speed. Nothing gives an absolute rate, which is why the same motet can be recorded at four and a half minutes and at seven.

## Reading a transcription with the right expectations

If you sing or play from a modern edition of medieval and Renaissance music, the clean rhythmic surface is a reconstruction. Bracketed accidentals are the editor's musica ficta; a bracketed tempo is an inference from notation and from genre; underlay decisions are arguments. None of that makes the edition wrong, but it changes what you are judging. Two editions that disagree about a C sharp are disagreeing about a convention the original never wrote down, so the useful move is to look at the critical report rather than to assume one of them made a mistake.

For practice, take a short passage in a reliable edition and count the editorial accidents on the page: the sharps in brackets, the tempo, the text distribution. The count tells you how much of the sound you are hearing is fifteenth-century and how much is twentieth-century scholarship, and it is the fastest way to stop reading early music as if it were written by a composer with modern notation habits.
