WHO WAS SOR MARÍA CLARA DEL SANTÍSIMO SACRAMENTO
(SISTER MARÍA CLARA OF THE MOST BLESSED SACRAMENT)?

INTRODUCTION

Among the lesser known cultural treasures belonging to the city of Oaxaca, Mexico, are the unpublished musical manuscripts housed in the Historical Archives of the Archdiocese of Oaxaca (AHAO). Most of these were composed for vocal and instrumental church ensembles and date from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, though there are some exceptional earlier documents as well, most notably the seventeenth century “Cancionero (Songbook) Gaspar Fernandez.” In 1990 musicologist Aurelio Tello catalogued the musical documents in the archives,1 though the notebook entitled Cuaderno de Tonos de Maitines de Sor María Clara del Santísimo Sacramento (Notebook of Psalm Tones for Matins of Sister Maria Clara of the Most Blessed Sacrament) appeared subsequently and was listed by researcher Jorge Mejia Torres in 1998 in a register of previously uncatalogued works.2 The Sor María Clara notebook is one of the rare existing manuscripts of organ music in Mexico. Before this discovery, a collection of eleven pieces bearing the name Joseph de Torres was found in the archives of the Conceptionist convent in Puebla.3 Initially the high hopes of identifying the first Mexican composer of organ music superceded careful analysis, but eventually the book was acknowledged to be a compilation of pieces copied from manuscripts by several eighteenth-century Spanish composers, one of which was Joseph de Torres. Two books of organ pieces which once belonged to the Colegio de Niñas de San Miguel de Belén in Mexico City are presently being analyzed by musicologist Luis Lledías. And two other unpublished manuscripts from the Franciscan Monastery of San Juan Bautista in Coyoacán reported by organist Manuel Zacarías have yet to be properly evaluated. Though the composers of these manuscripts are as yet unknown, it would be especially significant if they could be proved to be Mexican, since no organ music by national composers is known previous to the twentieth century. The dearth of organ manuscripts may be explained in part by the fact that organ music was often improvised and less likely to be written down than chamber or choral music, for example, which requires scores for the different parts. In fact, many Oaxacan historic organs have no music rack. Besides this, non-convent historic organ music would more likely have ended up in private hands or family collections than in institutional archives, since it was the personal property of the organist. In any event, it is a stroke of luck for posterity that the Sor María Clara notebook landed in the Cathedral archives, given that she as a nun was not associated with Cathedral activities. Otherwise it may have suffered the fate of so many convent archives which were dispersed, lost or destroyed when church property in Mexico was confiscated by the state during the Reform Period of 1857-1863.

In 2004 the subject of this document came up in conversation with organist and musicologist Calvert Johnson, who immediately recognized its musical and historical merit, as well as its suitability for teaching purposes. Over the course of the next year, he transcribed and edited the manuscript for publication in the U.S. through Wayne Leupold Editions, while the Instituto de Órganos Históricos de Oaxaca A.C. (IOHIO) made the necessary arrangements with the Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia (INAH) and the Archdiocese of Oaxaca. The book was presented during the Fifth International Organ and Early Music Festival of the IOHIO in November 2005,4 and a conference on the theme of “Music in the Convents of Mexico” was organized in conjunction with the festival to complement the publication of this unusual manuscript.

CLARA'S NOTEBOOK

The notebook is a typical example of an “organist book”, a collection of pieces compiled over time by one or more persons for use in the church. The manuscript consists of fifty-seven pages of short pieces of organ music plus a title page, which bears Sor María Clara’s name (from now on referred to in this text as “Clara”). Her name on the cover indicates that the book was in her possession at some time, even though as a cloistered nun she theoretically couldn´t own property, so it “belonged” to the convent. The music was intended to be played at the daily office of matins, celebrated in the convents sometime between midnight and dawn. The pieces or versets are ordered according to the eight psalm tones, and a series of short versets follows each chanted psalm. The collection may be more or less divided into three approximately equal parts. The first part includes the verses corresponding to the first tone, the second part, those for the second and third tones, and the last part, the verses for the fourth through eighth tones. Although the collection seems a bit uneven, this is probably because most of the original chants for matins were in the first rather than later tones (keys). The versets are titled according to the psalm tones, but they were conceived in classical rather than baroque style and conform to the structure of major and minor keys rather than the old church modes. Perhaps it was still customary at that time for church music to retain the nomenclature of the past.

An analysis of the script reveals as many as four different hands, whether of the composers or the copyists, and these are identified by their different styles of clefs and braces.5 There seems to have been a main composer or copyist who wrote settings for all eight psalm tones. The first piece of each set is titled according to its corresponding tone (¨Primer Tono con la final en fa,” “Favordon [fauxbordon] del tercero tono,” “Sexto tono”), and includes a brief introduction to establish the tone or chord (“cuerda”), followed by the chant with figured bass accompaniment. These often include a tempo indication as well (“Allegro Assai”, “Andante,” “Despacio”). This is the most coherent and musically sophisticated group in the notebook and will be referred to as the “core group.” A second composer/copyist, distinguished by a completely different style of bass clef, added versets to each of the first three tones. These are rarely titled and are somewhat simpler than the versets in the core group. The third composer with the clearest script of all wrote only three versets for the first tone, titled and with the opening chord and figured bass. Organ registrations are added (“Flautado mallor” “Clarines y trompeta mallor”) to the opening pieces of the core group in a different, not so fine hand. This seems to correspond to what we believe is Clara’s script, based on the title page (the similarity of “Clara” and “Clarines” provides a good clue) and fragments on the last page. The versets are grouped according to the tones, but the contributions of the different composers/copyists are mixed up within the groups, perhaps when the collection was bound (or re-bound). There are various errors throughout the notebook which are crossed out with diagonal slashes.

The pieces are all quite short and neither technically nor musically difficult. A trained organist could probably have improvised music of this level without a score, and it is likely that most if not all of the pieces were intended for teaching as well as playing purposes, just as the modern Wayne Leupold edition is now. No composer names or dates are cited. It was not uncommon before the era of affordable mass publications for scores to be freely copied, circulated, and gathered together according to one’s personal needs and tastes. Nevertheless, stylistic details—a thin, non-contrapuntal, non-chordal texture; the right hand almost always accompanied by the left, frequently with an Alberti bass; typical classical modulations, chromatic progressions, and cadences; and a light, gallant style—indicate a post-baroque date of composition, probably the late eighteenth to early nineteenth century.

CLARA'S WILL

Biographical information about Clara which might shed light on her connection with the notebook and its historical context was elusive, particularly since she would have been lost to civil record-keeping once she entered the convent. A document was reported by a former researcher in the Cathedral archives which apparently names her convent, Regina Celi (Coeli) or the Conceptionists, and refers to her as an organist, but it was never found again. We have been similarly unsuccessful in locating the “Lista de Profesiones”, the list of women who entered the convent, of Regina Coeli, which was filed away somewhere in the 1970s and has yet to resurface. It seemed as though our ideas about Clara and her notebook were destined to remain suppositions. Then suddenly our luck changed. The name Sor María Clara del Santísimo Sacramento on a document in the Notary Archives caught the eye of a fellow researcher who reported it to Ricardo Rodys, IOHIO archive researcher and organist. This document turned out to be a will made in 1835 by Doña María Clara Martínez Ramírez when she was about to enter the Regina Coeli convent under the name of Sor María Clara del Santísimiso Sacramento. It stated that Clara, the daughter of Don Nicolás Martínez and Doña Bárbara Ramírez, already a novice in the convent, willed all her earthly possessions (as was customary when one took religious vows) to her five siblings, since she was renouncing the secular world forever. The document also states that she would be taking the “black veil” (“velo negro”), but then the word “negro” is crossed out and “blanco” (white) substituted. The possible significance of this will be discussed below. Even though the signature on the will seemed remarkably similar to that on the title page of the notebook, we were cautious in assuming that they represented the same person until we had more information about either of them and about the standarization of script during that period.

This document turned out to be the key to understanding the story of Clara and her extended family, and it would eventually allow us a rare glimpse into the Oaxacan organ world of two centuries past. Following the lead of her parents´ names and the historical time frame, it was possible to sleuth out specific documents in the Cathedral Archives. The first to appear was the marriage certificate dated 1805 of Clara’s parents: “Joseph Nicolás Martínez, castizo [of mainly Spanish with some indigenous blood] thirty years old, originally from San Dionicio del Valle [now San Dionisio Ocotepec] and María Bernarda Ramírez, Indian, native of this city [Oaxaca] and resident in that village for eleven months, maiden, seventeen years old.” 6 Based on their names and marriage date, the birth certificates of Clara’s five siblings were found on microfilm. Ironically, the most important document of all, Clara’s birth certificate, was the most difficult to locate, since it happened not to be on microfilm, but eventually the original was located: “Ma. Clara Luisa Josepha Orocia Martínez Ramírez” was born in Oaxaca City on August 18, 1806.

JOSEPH DOMINGO MARTINEZ VASCONCELOS, CLARA'S UNCLE

Ricardo Rodys’s multiple research projects include compiling a list of organists in the Oaxaca Cathedral, based on church payrolls and other references. He was struck by the coincidence of Clara’s surname, Martínez, with that of an organist mentioned in an 1830 reference from the Oaxacan Municipal Archives: “José Domingo Martínez (organista) and his four sons (organeros)…”7 Though the name Martínez is one of the most common in Oaxaca today and probably was then, the population of the city in those days simply wasn´t large enough, especially in the organ world, to rule out possible links. Rodys was able to locate the marriage certificate of the organist: “Joseph Domingo Martínez castizo originally from Teitipac…resident of this city, [i.e. Oaxaca], single, twenty years old, legitimate son of Juan Martínez and Isabel Olibera.” His parents were the same as Clara’s father’s parents, (which were noted on the marriage certificate of Clara’s parents), so Joseph Domingo and Nicolás were brothers, making the organist Joseph Domingo Clara’s uncle! A payroll from the Oaxaca Cathedral lists Joseph Domingo Vasconcelos in 1802 and José Domingo Vasconcelos in 1811 as “second organist”.8 (This meant that he played the smaller organ of the two instruments in the Cathedral and he also substituted for the first organist).

Clara’s uncle, Joseph Domingo, was listed as coming from Teitipac and his brother Nicolás, from San Dionisio del Valle. Both towns are related to Tlacolula, the county seat and economic and administrative center for that part of the Valley of Oaxaca. Their mother Isabel Olivera was from Tlacolula, where she married their father Juan Martínez in 1773. The birth certificates of Joseph Domingo’s eleven children were located, and it was entirely possible that his four oldest sons could have been plying the trade of “organero” in Oaxaca in 1830, at which time they would have ranged in age from 20 to 27 years old. In those days the terms “organero” and “organista” were used loosely and their activities overlapped. An “organero” was mainly a technician, though he may also have played the organs (but not in the highest positions); an organist was mainly a player, though he would know how to tune and maintain the organs. These young men may have performed maintenance work on the Oaxaca City organs and perhaps played the mass on the organs in the lesser churches. We do not know if they worked out of their own home(s) or in an organbuilding shop.

JUAN MARTINEZ, CLARA'S GRANDFATHER

After Clara’s uncle was revealed to be an organist and in light of the fact that the trade of musician was often passed on through the generations, one document led to another and Clara’s grandfather, Juan Martínez Vasconcelos, was revealed to be an organist as well! As cited above, he was married in Tlacolula in 1773 at age 20 and seems to have been the church organist there and in some of its surrounding towns.until approximately 1786 when his name first appears on the payroll of the Oaxaca Cathedral. His oldest daughters were born in Tlacolula in 1773, his first son, Joseph Nicolás, in San Dionisio del Valle in 1776, and his second son, Joseph Domingo, in San Juan Teitipac in 1778. Organists traveled from town to town in those days, much as priests did then (and still do now) and Juan could have been responsible for playing the organ and teaching music in several communities. The organs in San Dionisio, Teitipac and Tlacolula still exist today, though many others which Juan Martínez may have known and played have disappeared. Teitipac is not far from Tlacochahuaya, where a fine eighteenth-century organ still exists, and it is likely that he played that organ as well.

A payroll reference in 1786 cites his starting responsibilities as teaching children (“Maestro del Colegio de Infantes,” 100 pesos a year), which probably included keyboard as a basis for organ, solfège (reading music), and choir, as well as tuning the organs (50 pesos). Keyboard classes would have been given on the clavichord or harpsichord, since organs were in public spaces, though the location of the “Colegio de Infantes” is not known. If some of the pieces which ended up in Clara’s notebook existed at the time, Juan may have used them in his classes and also played them in the Cathedral or other churches. A document in the Cathedral from 1789 refers to “…the skill and ability on the organ of Maestro Juan Martínez and his punctual performance…,” resulting in a 100 peso raise in his annual salary. A later reference, the 1792 census from the Archivo General de la Nación in Mexico City tells us about his sons: “…on the street Plazuela de Ximeno No. 12 lives Juan Martínez castizo from the city of Oaxaca, 39 years old, musician, short [of stature] married to Isabel Olivera Spaniard with two sons Joseph Nicolás sixteen years old, musician, and Joseph Domingo fourteen years old, the same [i.e. musician]”. Two daughters aged eighteen and eleven are also mentioned but not named, since this survey focused on possible military service. Here both Joseph Nicolas, Clara’s father, and his younger brother Joseph Domingo, Clara’s uncle, are cited as musicians. Although they were only adolescents, they were already working at their father´s trade. A reference in the Proceedings of the Governing Council (Actas de Cabildo) of the Oaxaca Cathedral in the same year, 1792, refers to Joseph Domingo as a bassoon player. These musicians frequently appear on colonial church payrolls, since the bassoon was often used along with the organ, perhaps serving to outline the bass line in the absence of a pedal board, or to reinforce the melody in the male-voice register. By 1794 Joseph Domingo, now sixteen years old, had moved up in the ranks and was cited from then on as an organist.

Juan Martínez must have been a highly capable musician, skilled teacher, and probably a composer as well. The post of first organist in the Oaxaca Cathedral was quite prestigious at that time. After all, only a generation had passed since Manuel de Sumaya (1745-55) had been the chapel master, and Oaxaca was still considered one of the most important musical centers in New Spain. A document dated 1789 in the Actas de Cabildo of the Cathedral includes a petition by Juan Martínez in which he indicated his desire to compete for an organist job (there must have been several) in the Mexico City Cathedral, surely the most important organist positions in the colony. The reason cited was the need of a higher salary to support his family, though in the document he states that he would really prefer the simplicity of the Oaxaca Cathedral to the opulence of Mexico City and seemed to have been using this as a ploy for a raise. The Cabildo denied him permission to leave, but agreed to raise his salary by 100 pesos, giving him a total of 350 pesos a year.

MARIA NICOLASA OR JUANA GERTRUDIS MARTINEZ OLIVERA,
CLARA'S AUNT

In the Actas de Cabildo of the Cathedral in 1794, yet another of Clara’s relatives appeared—the daughter of Juan Martínez, Clara’s aunt, who appears also to have been a convent organist. The twin sisters María Nicolasa and Juana Gertrudis Martínez Olivera were born in 1773, and another sister was born in 1781. In the census of 1792 cited above, two daughters were still living with their parents, though the mother died that same year. Two years later in 1794, Juan Martínez petitioned the authorities in the Cathedral for a loan of 200 pesos (more than half his yearly salary) to offset the cost of the ceremony of profession for his daughter. (In the same document, he also solicits the position of second organist for his son, Joseph Domingo, which we know was granted). This was the year before Juan died at age forty-two, and perhaps he was taking measures to guarantee the security of his children. We can assume that this young woman would have been the older daughter of Juan Martínez, María Nicolasa or Juana Gertrudis, twenty years old at the time (the other twin was either married or had died), rather than the younger one, who at thirteen would not have been old enough to enter the convent as a musician. Though the convent his daughter was to enter is not named, evidence points to the Conceptionist convent of Regina Coeli.

There were in fact five convents in Oaxaca, four of which were established for pure-blooded (i.e., European) women and the other for elite indigenous women, all of whom would become “brides of Christ.” Most convents required a hefty dowry for admission to cover the cost of maintaining the nuns for the rest of their lives. The entry register survives for two of them--Santa Catarina de Sena (Dominicans) and La Soledad (Augustinians)--but a name corresponding to a daughter of Juan Martínez does not appear on either list. Since her parents were both of mixed blood, castizo, she would not have entered indigenous convent, Santa María de los Ángeles (Los Siete Principes) (indigenous Capuchins). The only two possibilities left were Regina Coeli and San José (Spanish Capuchins). Since her niece Clara chose to enter Regina Coeli forty-one years later, it’s likely that this was her aunt´s convent as well, since relatives tended to cluster in the same convent. Also aunts would sometimes assume reponsibility for their nieces in the convent, which would be the closest thing to a mother-daughter relationship (cf. Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz and her niece-protegée). Juan Martínez died in 1795 after having paid off 125 pesos of the 200 peso loan, and a document confirms that the governing council of the Cathedral waived the remaining 75 pesos debt. From this we know that his plan to have his daughter enter the convent was actually carried out.

A substantial dowry was required in order to enter any convent in Oaxaca, which at that time was approximately 3000 pesos. It is certain that Juan Martínez could never have paid this fee with his annual salary of 350 pesos, and it was, he had to ask for a loan to cover the expense of his daughter’s ceremony of profession. Luckily though, this “entrance fee” was frequently waived for musicians—organists, singers, bassoonists—or those possessing other talents useful to the convent, such as accounting skills. And in fact this is the only way that Juan´s daughter (and later, his granddaughter Clara), neither of whom had pure blood, would be allowed to take their vows. His connections in the music world must surely have helped, but one can also assume that his daughter was a very well-trained musician. Not paying the dowry however did mean that the nun in question would be an economic dependent of the convent for the rest of her life. This meant that she would take the “white veil” would always be precluded from having full legal rights in the convent, as symbolized by the “black veil.”

SOR MARIA CLARA DEL SANTIISIMO SACRAMENTO

Clara entered the Regina Coeli convent at age twenty-nine in 1835. Yet Clara’s blood was even less pure than her aunt´s. Her father is usually described as castizo and her mother as mestiza or yndia (indigenous). Classifications of race were most certainly inconsistent in those days, but in any case, Clara was of mixed European and indigenous blood, mestiza, like the majority of Oaxacans. Perhaps she was fair-skinned enough for the scribe who made her will in 1835 to have assumed she was pure-blooded and could meet the requirements for taking the “black veil” in that particular convent, before he realized that she was in fact not pure-blooded and wouldn´t be paying the dowry. This may explain why “black” veil is crossed out and “white” veil substituted.

In Clara’s will, she is described as a novice, which meant she had already been in the convent for at least a year. It also mentions that at the time she was to take her vows, neither of her parents was alive. In the preceding generation Juan Martínez had been on hand to finance the profession ceremony for his daughter, Clara’s aunt, and one wonders who paid for Clara’s? At age twenty-nine she was past marriageable age, and she had only one brother among her five younger siblings, so her best option would have been to live with and be supported by one of them. The convent presented a convenient and attractive alternative, especially if her aunt was there. Why didn’t Clara take her vows earlier? Perhaps she was still hoping to get married, taking care of her parents, or making herself useful by teaching music to children, but the death of her parents probably determined her decision.

THE ORGAN IN CLARA'S CONVENT

There is no trace of, nor reference to, the organ in the Regina Coeli convent which Clara and probably her aunt must have played. However, the registrations noted on some of the pieces include an 8´ principal, an 8´ clarín (horizontal trumpets) and an 8´ trompeta real (interior trumpets). By Oaxacan standards this was not a small organ, nor one with a timid sound. It probably had divided registers, a 45 note keyboard and a short octave, even if it were relatively new, since Oaxacan organbuilding was still conservative in the nineteenth century and continued to emulate earlier models. Nevertheless, the music in Clara´s notebook does not exploit the possibilities of divided registers in any way, and the organ she played must have had equal registers on the right and left hand sides, a disposition more in keeping with the classical aesthetic. Perhaps the compositional style appropriate to divided registers was considered passé at a time when the gallant style was all the rage. The pieces do not include notes extending beyond the 45 note keyboard nor those omitted in the short octave. Because of the modulations in the music and the frequent use of F# minor, the organ could not have been tuned in meantone, and in fact these versets serve as the first evidence of a more “modern” tuning system (probably some form of late eighteenth century “well” temperament) in a Oaxacan organ.

THE MUSIC: WHEN, WHY, WHERE, BY WHOM?

Many questions remain regarding Clara’s notebook, which ultimately may be answered only by further research and discoveries. But based on information and analysis so far, we have been able to propose a time frame for the composition of the music—the late eighteenth to early nineteenth century--which would correspond to the era of Clara’s aunt and grandfather and not to Clara’s. Because of this, it seems fairly certain that she did not compose the pieces, nor did she copy or title them, based on her handwriting. However, she may have re-organized and perhaps even rebound them as well, replacing an earlier cover page with her own. As far as the motivation for the compositions, they could have been composed specifically for matins in a convent or for more general liturgical use. In either case, the pieces seem to have been well suited for both teaching and performing purposes. We would also postulate that the music originated in Oaxaca. There would have been no need to copy imported music of this level when there was so much local musical talent, experience and activity.

It is easier to speculate about the “when,” the “why,” and the “where” regarding the creation of the organ pieces in Clara’s notebook than the “who.” We can probably assume that the composers were male, as was customary in those days, and taking the theory of local origin a step further, might propose that Clara’s family members, particularly her grandfather Juan Martínez, had a role in the creation and dissemination of these pieces. Juan was a highly skilled musician and responsible father who surely would have provided his daughter Juana Gertrudis or María Nicolasa with copies of appropriate sacred music to take with her into the convent. In fact this may have been a prerequisite for musician nuns. She may have entered the convent with the complete collection in hand, including some pieces which she herself may have copied and titled and the rest which she may have gathered from other sources. Perhaps the core group of verses in all the tones was composed, copied, and titled by her father (or another relative) as a model. Or she may have entered the convent with a part of the collection, perhaps this core group, then built it up over the years, with music either acquired in the convent or passed in to her from the outside world by her brother José Domingo or other relatives (we still do not know if her other brother Nicolás, Clara’s father, was also an organist).

When Clara entered the convent, her aunt Juana Gertrudis or María Nicolasa would have been there for more than forty years. She would have had her own collection of favorite pieces, if not her own organist book, which she presumably would have shared with her niece. Later Clara may have replaced her as organist and inherited the music, or if the aunt was no longer alive when she entered the convent, she may have inherited it indirectly.

CLARA THE MUSICIAN

Clara was born into a family of musicians. She must have grown up exposed to organ talk and music and most certainly would have had access to some sort of keyboard instrument in her home or elsewhere, on which she could study and practice. At that time all the churches in the city of Oaxaca had an organ (though only those in the Cathedral and the Basilica of La Soledad survive today). Clara may have been familiar with many if not all of them, perhaps those in nearby neighborhoods as well, making a total of around twenty different instruments. Because of her family connections, she may have been allowed to play some of the organs in the less important churches, even though as a woman, she wouldn’t have had access to the Cathedral organs which her grandfather and uncle played. If she had been a man, she would most likely have continued the family tradition of church organist. But as a woman, she apparently continued the corresponding tradition of convent organist. We do not know if any of Clara´s siblings, nieces or nephews followed in the steps of their musician relatives, but this would certainly be possible, since the family was steeped in music, the trade was traditionally passed on through the generations, and it afforded a convenient and decent livelihood. Our research so far has focused on the archives of the Oaxaca Cathedral, but there are other surviving church archives yet to be explored which may possibly reveal new information about organs, organbuilding, organ music, and the continuing role of Clara’s family in the organ world in addition to that presented here.

We do not know what happened to Clara after she entered the convent, which in the late eighteenth century had been moved from its original location, site of the present “Bambi” bakery, to the imposing former Jesuit establishment of La Compáñia de Jesús on the southwest corner of the Oaxaca town square (zócalo) near the main market. Since then the ex-convent, known as the “Casa Fuerte,” has been severely modified, and nowadays it would be nearly impossible to imagine how the space was utilized by the Conceptionists. But even before this, the convent must have been altered and refurbished after the expulsion of the Jesuits to create comfortable private apartments for the well-to-do sisters and their retinue of helpers, as is documented in the similar Dominican convent of Santa Catarina de Sena. Clara and her aunt however, as economic dependents of the convent, had specific duties to perform in return for their admission, and they probably lived in the more modest quarters. But as organists they certainly played an important role in the worship and devotion of their Conceptionist sisters. One can imagine that the sounds of the organ and the voices of the nuns sometimes drifted beyond the convent walls and were heard by people passing by on the streets below.

To honor the memory of Clara and of her musician relatives, the Instituto de Órganos Históricos de Oaxaca regularly incorporates pieces from her notebook into its concerts and has distributed the published book to organists, ecclesiastics, and scholars throughout Mexico and abroad. Although it may be ultimately impossible to prove who composed the versets without a specific reference, the archive discoveries regarding Clara’s family background and the analysis of the music support the possibility that her relatives could very well have been involved. After all, the Martínez Olivera—Martínez Vasconcelos—Martínez Ramírez dynasty included generations of capable musicians, predominately organists, who would have understood well the needs of the Oaxacan liturgy and prevailing taste as well as anyone. In the meantime, we are grateful to Clara Martínez Ramírez--Sor María Clara del Santísimo Sacramento--for bequeathing to future generations this notebook of light, charming organ pieces which draw us back nearly two centuries in time to the hours just before daybreak in the candlelit choir loft of the Conceptionist nuns’ convent in Oaxaca.

Cicely Winter and Ricardo Rodys

Archive research for this article was carried out by Ricardo Rodys; the analysis and conclusions are by Cicely Winter. We wish to thank historian Anne Staples (El Colegio de Mexico) for sharing her expertise with us on the subject of nuns and convents in Mexico.

References
1.) Aurelio Tello, Archivo Musical de la Catedral de Oaxaca, Catálogo, México, CENIDIM, 1990.
2.) Jorge Mejía Torres, “La catedral de Oaxca: sus músicos y sus composiciones. Un listado de obras en proceso de catalogación.” en De papeles mudos a composiciones sonoras. La música en la Catedral de Oaxaca. Siglos XVII-XX, Cuadernos de Historia Eclesiástica 2, Jesús Lizama y Daniela Traffano, editors, Oaxaca, Archivo Histórico de la Arquidiócesis de Oaxaca/Fondo Estatal para la Cultura y las Artes, 1998, p. 59.
3). Felipe Ramírez Ramírez, El libro que contiene onza (sic) obras para órgano de registros partidos del Dr. Dn. Joseph de Torres, México, CENIDIM, 1993.
4). Cuaderno de Tonos de Maitines de Sor María del Santísimo Sacramento, Calvert Johnson editor, Wayne Leupold Editions Inc., North Carolina, 2005. More detailed information about the history of music in the convents of New Spain and the technical analysis of the music may be found in the introduction by Aurelio Tello and Calvert Johnson.
5.) We appreciate the help of Barbara Owen in distinguishing the different composers/copyists in the manuscript and for revising this text.
6) In Clara’s will her mother is referred to as Barbara and in her parents’ marriage certificate she is María Bernarda. The variations on the mother’s name continue in other documents, including the birth certificates of Clara’s five siblings, where she was sometimes Bárbara Joaquina, Joaquina Bárbara, Bárbara, María Bernarda, and simply Bernarda. Clara’s father was either Nicolas or José Nicolas. These were the same people, however, because their parents’ names, Clara’s grandparents, also cited on many of the documents, never varied except for minor spelling differences. In fact it was common (and still is in the villages of Oaxaca) for scribes to make minor errors with similar-sounding names or to change the order of the names. María for a girl and José for a boy were often taken for granted as first names and either noted or not.
7). Archivo Municipal de Oaxaca, Libros de Tesorería, cited in the Second newsletter of the IOHIO, September 2002, p. 11.
8) From the Archivo Histórico del Arquidiócesis de Oaxaca, cited in the second IOHIO newsletter, September 2002, p. 11. In the existing records, José Domingo used his father’s surnames, either Martínez or Vasconcelos, rather than Martínez Olivera. This recycling and mixing of surnames is still common in Mexico today, particularly if there is prestige associated with one of the parent’s names.