Traces of use and the possibility of singing bishops

In Köln, Dombibliothek, Cod. 120, a manuscript from the early tenth century and north-eastern France, we find a few neumes on folio 127v (see above) after the episcopal statutes of Waltcaud of Liège (810/811-831?).[2] In these statutes, the bishop addresses the priests in his diocese and admonishes them to be better. He reminds them of all the things they had to know and how they were expected to set a pious example for the laity. Priests were also supposed to sing during the celebration of Mass, Waltcaud forcefully reminds them, and had to know the ‘introitum’ and ‘responsorium’ (i.e. the opening antiphon and the chant between the regular Mass reading and the reading from the Gospel).[3] That Waltcaud's early ninth-century statutes appeared in this bishop’s handbook a hundred years later demonstrates the continued relevance and utility of the text. The neumes were noted down later, by someone using the manuscript in eleventh-century southern Germany.[4] The lack of a stave makes it  difficult to know what melody is depicted here. It might refer to the Mass chants mentioned by Waltcaud, something sung during the major feasts referred to in the last capitula, or it might even a be the reader testing his pen out. In any case, it shows that as he turned the pages our unknown reader thought of music, and figured it might be helpful to add these neumes to the end of the episcopal statutes. 

Another example is München, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm 3851, a manuscript from the late ninth century. In this book from Lotharingia, the neumes are found in the margins of the penitential of Pseudo-Bede on folio 50r (see above). At the point where dietary restrictions are discussed (don't drink any liquids in which mice or weasels have drowned)[5], a reader has added a famous verse from Virgil: 'Omnia vincit amor et nos cedamus amori’ (Love conquers all and let us cede to love), together with some neumes.[6] As there does not seem to be a direct connection between the content and the quote, we have to think of another reason why someone would scribble this into the margin during the eleventh or early twelfth centuries. While it perhaps appears a strange addition at first, using neumes to learn classical texts is a well attested tradition.[7] The neumes helped students to pronounce the words in the dactylic hexameter, in this manuscript also expressed as stress marks on the words, and to remember them. If these neumes were used as an aide memoire is unclear, especially since the syllables of the verse (15) do not match the number of tones (13 and 10). Regardless, it does allow us to situate the manuscript in a context where people were taught classical texts, perhaps a cathedral school.[8] It also shows that the manuscript remained to be used in close proximity to the bishop and its clergy, centuries after its initial creation.

The last example comes from the manuscript Heilgenkreuz, Zisterzienserstift, Cod. 217. In this southern-German book from the late tenth century, neumes were added on the bottom of folio 162v which contains canon law and covers issues concerning serfs.[9] On the page we see the word ‘Pater’ (Pater noster) and ‘Aeuia’ (Alleluia) kitted out with neumes not long after the manuscript was put together. In the case of 'Aeuia', we can at last(!) connect our added neumes to an actual chant.[10] In the ‘Cantatorium’ produced between 922 and 926 at the monastery of St. Gallen (Cod. Sang. 359), the oldest music manuscript from that institution, we find a similar ‘Alleluia’ for the verse ‘Excita domine’ for the third Sunday of Advent (pictured below). We have to keep in mind, however, that the ‘Alleluia’ was sung with other verses as well, so it could also have been used on other occasions. It might be telling, therefore, that the neumes appear in an episcopal manual, since while the intended user hopefully(!) did not need a reminder of how to sing the ‘Alleluia’ and the ‘Pater noster’, he might nevertheless have been charged with instructing (young) clerics to do so. The manuscript thus shows the varied tasks that came with episcopal office. Bishops had to manage their diocese and the people in it, while also finding time to teach essential chants for the celebration of Mass. The role of the bishop as a teacher is well attested: Archbishop Bruno of Cologne (925–965), for instance, was taught in his younger years by Bishop Balderic of Utrecht (918–975), Bishop Israel (about whom little is known other than his Scottish origins) and Bishop Rather of Verona (887x890–974). We might therefore be looking at traces of this kind of instruction within the book.[11]