Re-Membering the Wilton Processional
This study identifies thirty-four leaves of a lost manuscript processional from Wilton Abbey, a Benedictine convent and the premiere center of noble women’s education in medieval England. The manuscript was copied ca. 1860 by Paul Jausions of the Abbey of Solesmes, which later played a central role in the development of chant scholarship, the restoration of liturgical chant practice, and the creation of modern performing editions. While the original manuscript subsequently disappeared, Jausions’s copy has been preserved as Abbaye St-Pierre-de-Solesmes, Atelier de Paléographie musicale no° 596, where it is known as the “Rollington Processional.”
I show that the original processional was dismembered and sold by American manuscript dealer Otto F. Ege ca. 1948. Ege included leaves of the manuscript as example no. 8 in copies of the portfolio Fifty Original Leaves from Medieval Manuscripts, Western Europe, XII–XVI Century, and sold the remaining leaves individually. Focusing on selected leaves, including one previously undocumented example at the University of Iowa, I describe distinctive characteristics of the manuscript’s physical layout, text, music, and the elements that localize its provenance to Wilton Abbey. The recovery of the processional’s leaves provides direct primary evidence of the poetic, ritual, and musical culture of Wilton Abbey, and allows insight into Jausions’s principles of transcription, rendering his copy a more useful surrogate for those leaves still missing. It furthermore reintegrates the two ways in which the manuscript was transmitted, received, and studied, allowing for a more complete consideration of the book as both text and material object.
Around the year 1860, Dom Paul Jausions, a recently professed monk of the Abbey of Saint-Pierre de Solesmes, transcribed a complete copy by hand of a late medieval manuscript processional from the women’s Benedictine house of Wilton Abbey. The manuscript processional was a small, portable book containing 165 folios of texts, music, and instructional rubrics for the processions, stational liturgies, and dramatic rituals that the Wilton nuns performed throughout the liturgical year. The Wilton Processional was the first manuscript to be copied in the newly established scriptorium at Solesmes, which later played a central role in [End Page 690] the development of chant scholarship, the restoration of liturgical chant practice, and the creation of modern performing editions.1 The original manuscript subsequently disappeared; Jausions’s copy, however, is preserved at the abbey under the shelf mark Abbaye St-Pierre-de-Solesmes, Atelier de Paléographie musicale no. 596, where it is known as the “Rollington Processional” (hereinafter, Solesmes 596).2
More than a century passed before Jausions’s copy attracted scholarly attention, beginning with Georges Benoît-Castelli’s 1961 source study. Based on Jausions’s copy, Benoît-Castelli confirmed the original manuscript’s Wilton provenance, and provided an overview of its content, dating the manuscript to 1250–1320 based on its calendar of feasts. Neil Ker included Jausions’s transcription in his 1964 list of surviving manuscripts from Wilton, designating the original manuscript as “untraced.”3 Until now, the fate of the original manuscript processional has remained unknown.
This study identifies thirty-four single leaves of the lost Wilton Processional, listed in table 1. Dismembered by the American manuscript historian and dealer Otto F. Ege ca. 1948, the processional’s leaves are now scattered across public and private collections throughout North America and beyond. Focusing on selected leaves, including one previously undocumented example at the University of Iowa, I will describe distinctive characteristics of the manuscript’s physical layout, text, and music, and the elements that localize its provenance to Wilton Abbey. A comparison of selected leaves to Solesmes 596 unequivocally proves that the manuscript Ege dismembered in 1948 is the same that Paul Jausions copied ca. 1860. Figure 1 shows the first and sole illuminated leaf of the original Wilton Proces sional, now held in the collection of manuscript historian Christopher de Hamel. Figure 2 shows Jausions’s copy of the same leaf, pasted onto folio 1r of Solesmes 596. The likeness between the two leaves in layout, script, rubrication, notation, and illumination is undeniable. The existence of Jausions’s copy allows for the identification and exact ordering of the leaves of the original manuscript, and shows us which of the 165 original leaves are still missing. [End Page 691]
[End Page 695]
[End Page 696]
[End Page 697]
The re-membering of the Wilton Processional promises more than a virtual reunification of the membra disjecta (or scattered members) of the original manuscript. It provides direct primary evidence of the poetic, ritual, and musical culture of Wilton Abbey, the premiere women’s school in England for more than 500 years, and the subject of much recent scholarly interest. It further allows us insight into Jausions’s principles of transcription and the types of errors to which he was prone, thereby rendering his copy much more useful as a surrogate for those leaves still missing.
Finally, the re-membering of the Wilton Processional reintegrates the manner in which the manuscript was transmitted, received, and studied: (1) as text and music, transcribed and removed from their manuscript context, and (2) as material object, detached from its content and its ritual and historical context. Ultimately this allows for a more complete consideration of the book so we can begin to understand how the processional functioned as a script of ritual song, movement, and prayer within the liturgy of the community for which it was created.
This essay also serves as a case study in the reunification of manuscript fragments.4 It demonstrates how digital initiatives created through the collective efforts of scholars and librarians are supporting scholarship based in the analysis of aggregate data that was once impossible. Moreover, it serves as a potent reminder of the need for designing digital tools that will support the interdisciplinary scholarship needed to describe and interpret medieval manuscripts, whole or fragmentary.
wilton abbey: the college of virgins
Established as a convent in the ninth century by Saint Alburge, the sister of King Egburt, and surrendered to King Henry VIII on 25 March 1539, Wilton Abbey was renowned for its scholars, poets, and artists.5 Originally dedicated to St. Mary and St. Bartholomew, the abbey was rededicated to Saint Edith (ca. 961–984), and her tomb became a site of healing and pilgrimage. Edith was the daughter of King Edgar and his consort, the noblewoman Wulfthryth, whom the king took from Wilton Abbey under unclear circumstances. Two years after Edith’s birth, [End Page 698] Wulfthryth returned to Wilton Abbey where she assumed the office of abbess and raised her daughter.6
Goscelin of Saint-Bertin’s late-eleventh-century life of Saint Edith, commissioned by the elder nuns of Wilton and likely based on written and oral accounts preserved within the monastery, characterizes Edith as possessed of great literary and artistic ability.7 At Wilton—the “college of virgins, the divine training school, the schools of virtue”8—Goscelin continues that Edith was educated by her mother and by two monastic tutors engaged by her father: Radbodo from St. Remigius in Rheims, and Benno, a canon of Trier. Hagiographic hyperbole aside, Goscelin’s life of Edith demonstrates an ideal of education at Wilton that prized Latin learning, poetic and musical composition and singing, and accomplishment in the visual arts.9
The example of Eve, Goscelin’s pupil and dedicatee of his Liber confortatorius, gives further evidence of the high level of Latin learning fostered at Wilton. Goscelin’s reading list for Eve included the biblical commentaries of Jerome, Augustine, and Gregory, the lives of the church fathers, and the theological works of Cassiodorus, Augustine, Eusebius, Orosius, and Boethius, reflecting her presumed facility with literary Latin.10
Edith of Wessex (ca.1025–1075), the wife of Edward the Confessor, was also educated at Wilton. In the life of Edward that Edith commissioned, Richard of Cirencester relates that Queen Edith was “from infancy immersed in the study of letters in the monastery at Wilton . . . she diligently read religious and secular books, and she herself excelled in the writing of prose and verse.”11 Wilton remained an important center of Latin learning after the Norman Conquest, for both nuns and secular women.12 The celebrated poet Muriel of Angers, who flourished at the turn of the twelfth century, is believed to have resided at Wilton, as is the anonymous poet of verses inscribed on the mortuary roll of Abbot Vitalis of Savigny (d. 1122).13 The examples of these women bear witness to a Latin literary tradition that thrived at Wilton Abbey from the tenth century onward. [End Page 699]
Despite this reputation, little direct evidence remains of Wilton’s literary, ritual, and musical culture. Table 2 lists the sum of manuscripts remaining from Wilton: three psalters, a cartulary, Goscelin of St. Bertin’s life of Saint Edith, and a fifteenth-century English vernacular chronicle.14 Last on the list is Paul Juasions’s nineteenth-century copy of the so-called Rollington Processional. This manuscript, described as a thirteenth- to fourteenth-century processional from Wilton Abbey, was hand-copied at the Abbey of Solesmes by Dom Paul Jausions: a young monk who was a scholar and teacher of Gregorian chant, at the behest of his superior, the abbot Prosper Guéranger.15 Jausions was aware of the origin of the manuscript, which he referred to as the Processionale Abbatiae monialum Stae Edithae in Anglia (processional from the Abbey of the nuns of St. Edith in England).16 The original manuscript subsequently disappeared from scholarly view.
the processional at solesmes
Abbot Prosper Guéranger purchased the abandoned monastery of Solesmes in 1832, and there established a monastic community that sought to revive an authentic Benedictine way of life centered on a restored practice of liturgical chanting. In terms of repertoire and performance practice, the Solesmes restoration of Gregorian chant was driven by two practical aims. The first was to establish the best readings of chant [End Page 700] melodies among the many versions transmitted in manuscript. Based on philological principles, Guéranger proposed that “the pure Gregorian phrase” would be known “when manuscripts from several distant Churches all agreed on the same reading.”17 Thus, for Guéranger, the authenticity of chant melody lay in the confirmation of readings between unrelated manuscript sources.
The second aim of the Solesmes restoration was to establish a manner of rhythmic interpretation based in textual and melodic accent. The Solesmes theorists proposed that singing from late medieval quadratic notation could inform performance decisions concerning rhythm through its indication of melodic accent. Augustin Gontier, a chant teacher and theorist who worked closely with Guéranger, proposed in his 1859 Méthode raisonée that while the rhythm of syllabic chant followed textual accent, that of melismatic passages followed accents inherent in the melody.18 These melodic accents, Gontier believed, were preserved in “ancient” chant notation, namely, the quadratic notation of the late Middle Ages, the “true notation of chant” which “surpasses the notation of our day in accuracy and expression.”19 Thus, quadratic notation was valued at Solesmes for the authority of its rhythmic readings of melismatic chant. Guéranger was persuaded by Gontier’s arguments, and thus the transcription of chants from sources in quadratic notation became a priority. Around 1859, the abbot charged the twenty-six-year-old Paul Jausions with the copying of chant manuscripts, beginning with the Wilton Processional, thereby establishing the scriptorium at Solesmes.20
The transmission of the Wilton Processional prior to its arrival at Solesmes is unknown.21 Georges Benoît-Castelli and Pierre Combe have suggested that Jausions may have acquired the manuscript from Dom Shepard, a monk of the English monastery of Belmont, or from the English archaeologist and music scholar Sir John Lambert, who visited [End Page 701] Solesmes together in September of 1859.22 Members of the Academy of Saint Cecilia in Rome, Lambert and Shepard were both active in the restoration of Gregorian chant in English Benedictine houses. Lambert was also a member of the Wiltshire Archaeological Society, and maintained a private library of manuscripts, which he showed to Abbot Guéranger during the latter’s visit to England in 1860.23 If indeed it was Shepard or Lambert who brought the processional to Solesmes, it is possible that the abbot returned the borrowed manuscript at the time of his visit to England the following year.24 This hypothesis would mean that Jausions copied the manuscript in less than a year’s time.
otto f. ege dismembers the processional
Eighty-eight years passed before fragments of the processional reappeared in public, having been broken and sold piecemeal by the American dealer Otto F. Ege (1888–1951). Ege was an Ohio-based historian of the book who served as dean of the Cleveland Institute of Art. He was a lifelong collector, and eventually dealer, of medieval and Renaissance manuscripts and early publications. Ege was also a self-proclaimed biblioclast: a breaker of manuscripts and rare books. For Ege, it was popular, egalitarian access to the material manuscript that justified this destructive practice. He pleaded in a 1938 manifesto that:
[s]urely to allow a thousand people “to have and to hold” an original manuscript leaf, and to get the thrill and understanding that comes only from actual and frequent contact with these art heritages, is justification enough for the scattering of fragments. Few, indeed, can hope to own a complete manuscript book; hundreds, however, may own a leaf.25
What Ege does not mention is that by this time, he was also mounting leaves of high quality in professionally designed portfolios, which he sold to institutions and wealthy private collectors at a substantial profit.26
How and when Ege acquired the Wilton Processional is not known, but it is certain that he was selling its dismembered leaves by March of 1948, when one was purchased by the University of Illinois Museum of European Culture.27 In this same year, Ege’s associate, the New York rare [End Page 702] book and manuscript dealer Philip C. Duschnes, also offered leaves of the manuscript for sale.28 As Christopher de Hamel has noted, Ege often sold individual leaves through Duschnes’s company in New York, and he himself wrote Duschnes’s catalog descriptions.29 The leaves of the processional appeared in Duschnes’s 1948 catalog Original Vellum Leaves from Medieval Manuscripts, under the section heading “Leaves of Music.”30 Duschnes’s catalog description, likely written by Ege, reads:
1230 A.D.S. ENGLAND. Gradual leaf, vellum (7 × 4 ½ inches), nine staves, four line Gregorian Chant with square notes, music notation F and C lines indicated by letter. Text well written in typical early XIII century angular gothic book hand. Music books of this size rare, as are also English manuscripts of this early date.
|42A. Leaves with decorative initials.||$5.00|
|42B. Plainer leaves.||$4.00|
This entry makes clear that by the time Ege and Duschnes acquired the manuscript, its provenance in Wilton Abbey, and even its identity as a processional had been forgotten. Ege’s misidentification of the manuscript as a gradual has been perpetuated in many subsequent catalog descriptions. Following Otto Ege’s death in 1951, his widow, Louise Lange Ege, sold leaves of the manuscript as late as 1952 through the Lima Public Library Staff Loan Fund catalog at the price of $5.00 per leaf. The leaves do not appear among those Louise Ege offered in 1956 through the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art gift shop, perhaps marking a terminus ante quem for their dispersal.31
the fifty original leaves portfolio
In addition to selling individual leaves of the Wilton Processional, Otto Ege also included leaves from the manuscript in the portfolio entitled Fifty Original Leaves from Medieval Manuscripts: Western Europe, XII–XVI Century. At some time between 1947 and his death in 1951, Ege assembled forty sets of the Fifty Original Leaves portfolio, each comprised of fifty mounted leaves from medieval Bibles, liturgical manuscripts, books [End Page 703] of hours, and philosophical and theological texts demonstrating a variety of manuscript genres and styles of script and illumination.32 The Fifty Original Leaves was not sold before 1953, two years after Otto Ege’s death.33 At that time, however, Louise L. Ege maintained that the elaborate collection was designed entirely by her late husband, explaining that “all the notes for the labels and index sheets, as well prospectus, were complete when he passed away. The work is entirely his own.”34
Otto Ege’s description of the processional’s leaves, included as example number 8 in the Fifty Original Leaves portfolio, reads:
Vellum Leaf from a Medieval Manuscript
England; Early XIIIth Century
Latin Text; Early Angular Gothic Script
Square Gregorian Notation
Gradual (Graduale) from the collection of Otto F. Ege
Graduals are the books containing the chants for the celebration of the mass. English manuscripts of this early date and small size are rare. This volume, with the uncertain strokes in the script, seems to indicate that the transcriber was unaccustomed to writing in this small scale. There are four and five line staves, and the “F” and “C” lines are indicated. Most of the various forms of written notes can be found on each leaf of this book. Those occurring more frequently are punctum (L. punctum, prick), a single note; virga (L. virga, rod), a square note with a thin line attached; podatus (L. pes, foot), two square notes, one above the other; climacus (L. climax, ladder), a virga note with two or more diamond shaped notes. There are other forms for particular nuances of expression.
There are more than 2,300 chants which have come down to us from the Middle Ages. The majority of these, however can be reduced to a relatively few melodic types—probably not exceeding fifty in all.35
It is worth noting that Ege gives the provenance of the manuscript as England, but offers a date of early thirteenth century, more general than the specific date of 1230 that appeared in Duschnes’s 1948 catalog. Ege was aware of the seeming contradiction between the presumed book type (a gradual), and the manuscript’s small format, but justified this generic identification by explaining that the book was unusually small. [End Page 704] Aside from the detail of the five-line staff, which is simply inaccurate, the aspects of notation that Ege describes are so general that they might apply to virtually any late medieval source containing quadratic notation. Ege’s final statement that all chants can be reduced to a handful of melodic types seems to imply that individual pieces do not matter, let alone the variants transmitted in an individual manuscript. In short, Ege’s description contains significant inaccuracies, and was solely concerned with the material and visual aspects of the manuscript, and not with its textual, melodic, or liturgical content.
Louise Ege echoed this disregard for manuscript content in a letter dated 14 November 1955 to Glencairn Museum founder Raymond Pitcairn, in which she offered the Fifty Original Leaves portfolio for the price of $750. She writes that surviving medieval manuscripts “were preserved not always because of their texts, which in most cases become available in printed form, but often because they were treasured as works of art and examples of remarkable calligraphy.”36 Louise Ege’s statement is informed by a style of philology that concerned itself with edited and printed texts with a relative lack of regard for the individual manuscript, let alone its unique variants. Together, the Eges fostered a type of reception focused on the aesthetic value of the manuscript leaf and the authenticity of its material form. Individual textual and melodic variants were not important, nor was the book’s role as a transmitter of sound and meaning within the ritual for which it was made.
scholarship on solesmes 596
For the next forty years, the leaves of the processional—some dispersed as individual leaves, and others contained in the Fifty Original Leaves portfolios—remained in relative obscurity. Meanwhile, in France, a century after Paul Jausions copied the processional, the Solesmes monk and historian Georges Benoît-Castelli undertook the first study of Jausions’s copy, Solesmes 596. In his 1961 study, Benoît-Castelli dated the original manuscript to 1250–1320, based on a reconstructed calendar of feasts, and provided an overview of the manuscript’s repertoire and its processional and dramatic rituals.37 He confirmed the manuscript’s [End Page 705] Wilton provenance based on its feminine language, its unica for local saints including the Wilton patrons Edith and Iwi, and its rubrics referring to the church of Saint Edith and other local Wiltshire place names.38
Benoît-Castelli’s analysis of selected chants from the processional demonstrated concordances with manuscripts from Cluny, St. Denis, Rouen, and Jumiège, among others.39 He also noted overlap with other English repertoire, including the antiphon Hodie nobis beata illuxit, which is also transmitted in the medieval ordinal of Barking Abbey in incipit only.40 He further described several dozen unica for liturgical occasions including the feasts of Saint Dunstan, Saint Edward the Martyr, Saint Bartholomew, and the Wilton patron saints Edith and Iwi, and proposed the possibility that these chants were likely composed at Wilton.41 Finally, Benoît-Castelli described a unique series of dramatic rituals that began during the stational liturgies of Palm Sunday, and culminated in the Visitatio sepulchri following the Matins of Easter Sunday.42
In 2004, Michel Huglo reexamined Solesmes 596 in his catalog of manuscript processionals for the International Inventory of Musical Sources (RISM). According to Michel Huglo’s typology of processionals, the Wilton Processional leaf is an example of the “Processional-Responsorial”: a genre that emerged ca. 1300, and that transmits, in addition to processional liturgies, a great variety of additional material, which may include Office responsories, rhymed versus, litanies, tropes, sequences, hymns, monophonic and polyphonic songs, farced epistles, and liturgical drama.43 Huglo reaffirmed the provenance of the original manuscript as Wilton Abbey, but offered a more conservative date of early fourteenth century, based on its script and illumination.44 Huglo indexes the processional’s more common content against hundreds of other processional manuscripts, and identifies unica and elements of repertoire shared with English and continental sources.45 [End Page 706]
the wilton visitatio sepulchri
Susan Rankin was the first from outside of Solesmes to recognize the potential importance of Jausions’s copy, and the first to question its reliability. Her 1981 study and transcription of the Visitatio sepulchri from the Wilton Processional showed that this dramatic ritual was a composite of old and new texts and music, including some elements composed in twelfth-century Germany, with substantial links to the Origny-Sainte-Benoite Ludus Paschalis, and some overlap with other French, Norman, and English sources.46 Rankin reported that about one-third of the Wilton ceremony was newly-composed, including a unique scene between Mary Magdalene and Jesus that takes the musical form of a sequence, in which the characters sing to one another in paired lines sharing the same melody. Regarding the texts of those chants unique to Wilton, Rankin remarked that “the odd mixture of verse and prose techniques is not so much incompetent as simply strange.”47 Rankin also detected what she considered to be errors in both the music and text of Jausions’s copy, many of which she ascribed to Jausions. The recovery of leaves from the original source provides evidence that allows us to reassess this question (see below).
Rankin’s study of Wilton’s unique Visitatio sepulchri inaugurated a wave of scholarship that included Margaret Pappano’s 2005 literary-dramatic study of the play, and Anne Bagnall Yardley’s liturgical analysis and new transcription.48 Meanwhile, the hagiographic writings of Goscelin, and in particular his vita of Edith of Wilton and the Liber confortatorius dedicated to Eve of Wilton began to attract attention within a wider scholarly movement to reconsider the lives, writings, and liturgies of women in the Middle Ages. Many who have written on Wilton Abbey have commented on the disappearance of the Wilton Processional, unaware of its dismemberment and the dispersal of its fragments by Otto Ege.49
the ege fragments in the digital age
With the development of the Internet and digital imaging in the 1990s, scholars and librarians began to imagine the potential of these [End Page 707] technologies to provide scholarly access to manuscripts held in distant locations. The potential of sharing images and metadata between institutions has been particularly promising for the virtual reunification of manuscripts whose leaves are divided among multiple libraries.50
Barbara Shailor, Frederick Porcheddu, and Lisa Fagin Davis have all championed the potential of digital technologies to virtually reunify the astonishing number of manuscripts that Otto Ege broke and resold.51 In 2008, Frederick Porcheddu and his student Greta Smith of Denison University launched The Otto F. Ege Collection Web site, which describes the Fifty Original Leaves, and locates thirty out of the original forty portfolios (two of which have since been sold), providing digital images of thirteen.52 The Otto F. Ege Collection Web site led me to twenty-eight digital images of leaves that now reside in separate collections.
Published in 2013, Scott Gwara’s comprehensive study of Ege’s manuscript collection and trade traced the compilation and sale of the Fifty Original Leaves portfolios, and reported an additional single leaf now owned by the University of Illinois.53 More recently, Gwara located another Fifty Original Leaves portfolio at the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, and a single leaf now in a private collection, bringing the number of documented leaves to thirty-one.54 Mildred Budny identified another single leaf that Giles Constable donated to the University of Notre Dame in 2015.55 Christopher de Hamel’s leaf (fig. 1) and the leaf that I identified [End Page 708] at the University of Iowa (figs. 3–4) bring the total of documented leaves to thirty-four, as shown in table 1. Thus, the assembly of the thirty-four leaves of the Wilton Processional relied on a key manuscript-studies initiative in the digital humanities, and the efforts of many individual scholars and librarians. De Hamel, Gwara, and Budny all identified the original manuscript as a processional from an English convent, and yet its provenance in Wilton Abbey remained unknown, as did the existence of Jausions’s copy, Solesmes 596.56 In sum, the two separate transmissions of the manuscript—one textual, and the other material—resulted in two separate and mutually unaware lines of scholarship. The first was familiar with the content of the manuscript as transmitted by Jausions, and knew of the manuscript’s Wilton provenance, but was unaware of the Ege fragments. The second line of scholarship focused on the material manuscript, in the form of the single leaves dispersed by Ege, but knew neither of the manuscript’s provenance in Wilton, nor of Jausions’s copy.
the iowa leaf
My first encounter with a leaf from the Wilton Processional took place in fall of 2011, when, as visiting faculty at Indiana University’s Jacobs School of Music, I undertook a project with my graduate medieval music class to describe manuscript fragments containing music in the collection of Indiana University’s Lilly Library, which houses one of Ege’s Fifty Original Leaves portfolios. At that time, I determined that the repertoire transmitted in Fifty Original Leaves example 8 was of English monastic origin, and was processional in nature. In May of 2015, an inquiry from a colleague at the University of Iowa brought to my attention a leaf of the Wilton Processional held in the University of Iowa Library’s Special Collections.57 I recognized the Iowa leaf as originating from the same manuscript as the Lilly leaf, based on physical characteristics that I will describe below. The Iowa catalog record identifies the leaf as a fragment of an English gradual, copied ca. 1230, but gives no other information concerning its origin or accession. Below, I will describe the leaf and its contents, followed by a comparative description of script and notation.
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typical of the portable genre of the processional.58 Generous margins surround a text block of 14 cm × 9 cm, with nine four-line staves ruled in red. Rubrics indicate liturgical assignments and performance instructions. The primary text and rubrics are written in an English Protogothic hand, and the notation is quadratic in style. The smaller initials alternate between red and blue, while the largest initials, such as the capital letter “I” in figure 4, are blue and adorned with red fleuronée penwork. The leaf bears no sign of medieval or modern foliation. Traces of erased pencil markings appear in the lower margin of the verso (fig. 4) where, with the help of a magnifying glass, it is possible to make out a price of $5.00, which is consistent with the prices given in Duschnes’s 1948 catalog and in Louise Ege’s letter of 1952, discussed above.
The recto (fig. 3) transmits the text of the Nicene Creed, beginning from the words erit finis. The mode 4 melody is a variant of the so-called authentic tone, the oldest of the medieval Credo melodies.59 As seen on the first line of the verso (fig. 4), the Credo contains one textual variant: the substitution of the word futuri for venturi. The rubrics and chants that follow show that this Credo was not performed within its usual context of the Mass Ordinary, but rather as part of a processional liturgy. As seen in figure 3, the scribe has rubricated each phrase of the Creed with one of the names of the twelve apostles: Jacobus, Matheus, Symon, and finally Judas. As may be seen on the verso (fig. 4), these rubrics are performance indications.60 The Creed concludes on the verso, where a rubric instructs “sacerdos dicat R.” (Let the priest chant the responsory). The responsory that follows, Ite in orbem universum, appears almost universally in books for the Office, where it is assigned variously to the feasts of the [End Page 712] Ascension, Pentecost, and the Division of the Apostles.61 The responsory’s text paraphrases Mark 16:14–16, in which Jesus instructs the twelve apostles to disperse into the world to preach the gospel. The final rubric on the verso indicates that a procession follows.
The rubricated Credo and the processions that follow appear to be a fragment of an early “Creed play”: a dramatized account of the creation of the Creed, in which, according to medieval legend, each of the twelve apostles contributed an article.62 Until now, witnesses to the tradition of the Creed play have appeared only in much later sources, such as the fifteenth-century English vernacular Chester mystery plays, and sixteenth-century references to a lengthier version presented by the Corpus Christi Guild of York, whose text and music do not survive.63 By contrast, the Creed play transmitted in the Iowa leaf appears to be quite short, consisting of Latin liturgical chant sung in the context of a processional liturgy.
An amendment in the left-hand margin of the verso (fig. 4.) is particularly revealing. As the Iowa catalog description notes, the added word cantrix, the Latin term for female cantor, amends the rubric, indicating presumably that she, and not the priest, should intone the responsory. This amendment shows that the original manuscript was, if not made for, then at least received by, a women’s house that practiced an elaborate processional liturgy. In this brief drama, the religious women reenact the apostles’ generation of the twelve articles of faith, and in the procession that follows, the Division of the Apostles, Jesus’s last act prior to the Ascension, according to the Gospel of Mark.
My search for the provenance of the processional leaves led me to Denison University’s The Otto F. Ege Collection Web site, which in turn produced more images of the processional. Taken together, the thirty-four documented leaves reveal much more about the manuscript’s provenance. The leaves confirmed the manuscript type to be a processional, an identification to which both de Hamel and Gwara concur.64 The first and sole illuminated leaf, now in the collection of Christopher de Hamel (fig. 1) contains an initial “E” that begins the Advent processional antiphon, Ecce karissimi, historiated with the image of a Benedictine abbess, [End Page 713]
[End Page 714]
clothed in black and holding a crozier. This illumination provides visual evidence that the manuscript likely originated from a female monastic house. Original rubrics throughout the leaves referring to cantrices (Latin for female cantors) and sorores (Latin for sisters) leave no doubt that the manuscript originated in a women’s community.65
Further clues to the processional’s provenance may be gleaned from the three litanies that are partially transmitted in the manuscript leaves. The three fragmentary litanies all include Saint Iwi, a seventh-century Northumbrian monk and deacon whose primary relics Wilton Abbey possessed from the late tenth century on.66 Each of the three litanies include Saint Iwi as the third in the series of confessors, following Saint Benedict and Saint Nicolas.67
Figure 6 shows the verso of folio 105, now held by the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County, which transmits the end of the third litany. Figure 7 shows Jausions’s copy of folio 105v in Solesmes 596. Saint Iwi appears on line 1, and on line 3, between Mary Magdalene and Saint Agnes, Saint Edith, who was revered since the early eleventh century as the patroness of Wilton Abbey. The litany is followed by the antiphon Styrps regalis, a unicum for Saint Edith (fig. 6, lines 4–8). An additional unicum for Saint Edith, Virgo Edẏtha inter astra, is found on the verso of a leaf now held by the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art (see table 1). The presence of both Saint Edith and Saint Iwi, whose relics Wilton possessed, strongly suggests that the processional was indeed made for the nuns of Wilton Abbey.
Below, I will describe the physical characteristics of the manuscript based only on original leaves of the processional. I will examine three folios as test cases: folio 1, the opening leaf of the manuscript, from the collection of Christopher de Hamel (recto shown in fig. 1); folio 112, the Iowa leaf (figs. 3–4); and folio 105, from the collection of the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County (verso shown in fig. 6). Using evidence from these leaves, I will describe the size, layout, decoration, script, and notation of the manuscript, with the hope that this description may serve to identify additional leaves in the future.
The codicological design of the manuscript is difficult to determine due to its fragmented state. Jausions’s copy (discussed in more detail [End Page 715]
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below) consists of 165 folios. As Benoît-Castelli has noted, an omission of probably no more than one folio occurs in Jausions’s copy between folios 2v and 3r. It is unclear if this omission is due to a lacuna in the fourteenth-century original, or if it is a nineteenth-century copying error. One clue is found in the single catchword corpus that appears in the lower margin of folio 59v, indicating the end of a quire.68 Assuming one missing folio, the catchword would appear on folio 60v of the original manuscript, suggesting that the manuscript was organized into quires of five or six folios each. The testing of this hypothesis would require the recovery of more original leaves.
Recorded measurements of the leaves range from 18–18.5 cm tall × 11.8–12.3 cm wide. Each leaf contains nine lines of text, accompanied by four-line staves in red. Vertical and horizontal rulings in drypoint line, intermittently visible in the figures, define a text block of approximately 14 cm × 9 cm. Variations in the thickness of the staff lines and in the distance between the lines indicate that they were drawn individually along a straight edge, and not with a stave instrument.69 The horizontal staff lines often exceed the vertical rulings, extending into the left and right margins, as may be seen in figures 1, 3–4, and 6.
decoration and script
The largest initials are blue and adorned with contrasting red fleuronée penwork, which often terminates in marginal line drawings of human and animal faces.70 Smaller initials within the text alternate between red and blue. Red rubrics indicate liturgical assignments and performance instructions. The primary text occupies a space one-third the height of the staff, as may be seen in cases with extensive rubrics, such as folio 59r, now in the collection of Denison University (fig. 8). Distinctive letter-forms in the primary text and rubrics suggest that both were the work of a single scribe.
The processional’s text is written in a form of English Protogothic: a script that, according to Raymond Clemens and Timothy Graham, emerged in post-Conquest England and parts of France, where it was used into the thirteenth century.71 Table 3 reproduces complete words from the manuscript that demonstrate the script’s distinctive letter forms, excerpted from folios 1, 105, and 112. Typical English Protogothic [End Page 718] features of the script include the diagonal feet that terminate each minim, and its wedge- or horn-shaped serifs. These serifs, formed by an upward diagonal or curved stroke across the top of the ascender, may be seen in the letters d in domini, Edẏtha, and predicate (table 3, row 1). As these examples demonstrate, the scribe consistently uses the straight-backed letter d, and never the Gothic, sloped-back letter d. The scribe uses a 2-shaped letter r after the letters b and p, as seen in the words preclarus and pro (table 3, row 2), and after the letter o, as seen in the words mortalem, forma, and adoratur (table 2, row 3): a regular feature of English Protogothic hands. The script includes the typical English Protogothic ligatures , as in the words affectu, benedicte, and sanctus (table 3, row 4), and , as in the words nostra, castitatis, and apostolicam (table 3, row 5).
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Distinguishing features of the hand include the use of a diagonal hairline stroke to dot the letter i in order to distinguishing it from neighboring letters comprised of minims, as in karissimi, in, and finis (table 3, row 6). In the cases of proper names and loan words, the scribe often replaces the letter i with ẏ, as in hẏstoria, Iwẏ, and alleluẏa (table 3, row 7). This, and the form of the letter h, whose tapered arm curves back and under the baseline of the letter, as in the words Nazareth, Nicolae, and Catholicam (table 3, row 8) are forms Clemens and Graham identify (p. 149) as more typical of German Protogothic hands. Both of these elements, however, along with the hairline stroke used to dot the letter i, appear in the hand of the early-thirteenth-century Sarum gradual British Library MS Add 12194.72 This suggests that the scribe of the Wilton Processional may have been active in the scriptorium of nearby Salisbury Cathedral, or was influenced by its practices. Finally, the scribe uses an unusual ampersand whose rightward slanting form is made up not of one continuous stroke, but of two separate ones. The scribe of the Sarum antiphoner, Worcester Cathedral Library MS F160, uses a similar, though not identical, ampersand.73 This combination of features, some typical of English Protogothic scripts and others not, make the hand of the Wilton Processional easily recognizable.
The manuscript’s quadratic notation is written in black ink in a style that falls within the spectrum of early-fourteenth-century English notated manuscripts.74 The notational script appears to be the work of a single hand, with differences in neume forms resulting from the variable quality of the vellum. Table 4 compares selected elements of notation from the three example folios shown in figures 1, 3–4 and 6. The scribe uses four kinds of clefs: C, F, B-flat, and rarely, G. Most frequent is a C clef with a right-leaning ductus (table 4, row 1). The upper and lower strokes of the C descend at a diagonal, and the lower one is typically longer than the upper. Table 4, row 2, shows the F clef, distinguished by long hairlines that descend a full space from the lower arm of the letter [End Page 720] f.75 The typically English B-flat clef, shown in table 4, row 3, features a long ascender that crosses an entire space in the staff. The relatively small body of the letter b is formed by a short horizontal stroke, connected to a rounded bow.76 A G clef appears only once in the surviving leaves, on folio 135, now in the collection of the Art Gallery of Toronto (see table 1). On this leaf, the scribe uses the G clef to accommodate the high range of the Marian antiphon Alma redemptoris mater.77
As for the individual neume forms, the scribe uses a diamond-shaped punctum (table 4, row 4), and a virga with a left-facing square head and a [End Page 721] long tail that descends an entire space on the staff (table 4, row 5). The notation has a pronounced right-leaning ductus, most prominent in the rising two-pitch pes, whose lower pitch is typically somewhat horizontally elongated (table 4, row 6).78 The absence of the cautionary custos is a feature shared with Sarum manuscripts dating from the mid-fourteenth century and earlier.79 The hook-shaped liquesced pes, or epiphonus, has a backward sloping ascender (table 4, row 7).80 The liquesced clivis, or cephalicus, has a long, hairline tail and a curved, sickle-shaped head (table 4, line 8). These and the more complex neume forms all fall within the stylistic range of Sarum notated manuscripts, but cannot be grouped in any way that suggests a specific scribal center.81
jausions’s copy: solesmes 596
My searches for previous documentation of the Wilton Processional produced a reference to Solesmes 596, the “Rollington” processional that Jausions copied ca. 1860, and described by Georges Benoît-Castelli in 1961.82 One of the goals that Benoît-Castelli professed in his study was “if possible, to reestablish contact with the original.”83 Indeed, it was Benoît-Castelli’s publication that lead to my identification of the processional’s leaves. A comparison of the leaves to Solesmes 596 shows that, without a doubt, the manuscript that Ege broke ca. 1948 was the same as that Jausions copied ca. 1860.
Figure 5 shows Solesmes 596, folio 112v, which matches the verso of the Iowa leaf (fig. 4). As will be discussed in further detail below, Jausions’s copy closely follows the layout and notation of the original manuscript. In the case of the Iowa leaf, folio 112, comparison with Jausions’s copy allows us to see that the Creed play it transmits is part of a dramatic liturgy proper to the Feast of Pentecost: thus the Wilton dramatic cycle that Benoît-Castelli described as culminating in the Visitatio sepulchri following Matins of Easter actually extends through the end of the Paschal season.
solesmes 596 and the original leaves compared
As demonstrated above, Jausions’s copy of the processional may be used as a key to the manuscript context and order of each of the recovered leaves of the processional. In turn, comparison of his copy with the [End Page 722] original leaves reveals the kinds of choices that Jausions made in his transcription. It seems that when he first began to copy the manuscript, Jausions attempted to reproduce all elements of the text, music, and decoration, as may be seen by comparing the first folio of the manuscript (fig. 1), with the first folio of Solesmes 596 (fig. 2). On the first line, the Advent processional antiphon Ecce karissimi begins with the large initial “E,” which occupies two staves. The initial is historiated with the image of an abbess, clad in black and holding a crozier. The initial E is elaborated into a frame that extends around the page’s margins. The lower margin features a drollery of an archer who has just shot a hare, which, wounded, flees from a pursuing hound.
Figure 2 shows Jausions’s copy of the first folio, which is pasted onto folio 1r of Solesmes 596. Jausions reproduced the leaf’s staves, text, notation, rubrics, and illumination in close imitation of the style of the original manuscript. It is furthermore possible to detect faint pencil marks beneath the red ink of the staves and the black ink of the notation. These pencil marks witness the care with which Jausions planned and executed this first folio, capturing even the subtle right-leaning ductus of the original hand. It appears that Jausions even went so far as to apply water to his illumination to replicate damage inflicted on the original manuscript. The bleed-through of ink from the verso of this pasted-in page reveals that Jausions had originally intended to continue in this style of transcription, but it seems that he quickly abandoned this time-consuming approach. He copied subsequent folios of the processional in a modern textual hand onto paper preprinted with ten four-line staves per page, perhaps designed for this very purpose. Figure 5 shows Jausions’s copy of folio 112v, the verso of the Iowa leaf described above. Here, one can see that Jausion transcribed the quadratic notation onto printed four-line staff paper. Text, rubrics, and marginal amendments are all carefully reproduced in a modern nineteenth-century hand. This time-saving approach privileged those elements that mattered the most to Jausions: namely, the content of the texts of the chants and their quadratic notation. While he preserved the content of the text, rubrics, and marginal amendments, the script itself was of little concern.
Over the course of copying the one hundred and sixty-five folios of the processional, Jausions gradually assimilated the notational hand of the manuscript’s medieval scribe. As he grew increasingly comfortable with copying the processional’s quadratic notation, he abandoned the guidance of the pencil and executed the neumes immediately in ink. What is more, the ductus of his notational hand gradually acquired a more vertical orientation, written with a confident calligraphic ease. In an 1862 letter, Abbot Guéranger praised Jausions’s transcriptions, saying “I admire [End Page 723] how you copy all of this. The processional has shaped your writing hand.”84 Further research must investigate whether Jausions’s hand, trained through imitation of the fourteenth-century quadratic style of the Wilton scribe, was among the models for the notation of the printed Solesmes chant editions through which thousands have first encountered Gregorian chant.85
jausions’s practice of transcription
With recourse to the original leaves, we are now in a better position to test Susan Rankin’s hypotheses regarding the reliability of Jausions’s copy. In her study of the Visitatio sepulchri Easter play from Solesmes 596, Rankin stated that “There are two possible levels of error in the 19th-century copy: those present in the original 14th-century source, and those introduced by the monk who copied it c. 1860. Some of those introduced at the later stage are obvious misreadings of letters or abbreviations.”86 The recovery of the first two leaves containing the Visitatio sepulchri, folios 59–60 of the original manuscript, allows for a comparison with Jausions’s transcription. Figure 8 reproduces folio 59, now owned by Denison University, and figure 9, the same folio in Jausions’s copy.
A comparison of the two leaves shows that, surprisingly, most of the unusual readings in Jausions’s copy were present in the fourteenth-century original. The irregularities Rankin described in her critical commentary fall into several types. The first are alternate spellings that appear throughout the original manuscript, such as “set” for sed.87 The second are irregular case endings such as “unguentum” for unguento and the plural “Marias” for Mariae (see fig. 8, rubric line 11). Some of these spellings might have resulted from incorrectly expanded abbreviations, as Rankin suggests. But it is also possible they reflect the idiosyncratic Latinity of the scribe, who may have preferred a vernacular plural ending in the case of “Marias,” and substituted the accusative for the ablative noun ending in the case of “unguentum.”88
Other cases simply involve unusual word choices, such as the word texant (fig. 8, line 3 of rubric) which Rankin replaces with levent (to rise).89 Texere means to weave, plait, or intertwine, and by extension, to join together [End Page 724] or to direct movements in an intricate course.90 Thus it is possible to translate the following passage in this manner:
Dum cantatur iii lectio texant tres cantrices et lavent manus suas
“While the third lesson is sung, let three cantrices join together with care and wash their hands.”
While perhaps unusual, this metaphor seems fitting in the context of a women’s convent that prized the textile arts.91 The three cantrices, who sing the parts of the three Marys of the Visitatio, join like the three strands of a braid: a quality of unity underscored by performance indications at the end of the rubric that instruct the three Marys to sing in unison tres in uno ore: “three with one mouth” (see fig. 8, line 15 of rubric).
Jausions’s transcription of the incipit Heu nobis in t’nas mentes, as “Heu nobis in tuas mentes” is the sole textual misreading that I detect in folios 59–60 (see figs. 8 and 9, last system). Rankin corrects this phrase to “Heu nobis internas mentes” in accord with other sources of the text.92 In the manuscript, the word internas is written as in t’ nas: in abbreviated form and with a gap separating the first two syllables to avoid a flaw in the parchment. It is easy to understand how Jausions might have misread this malformed text. But overall, it is clear that Jausions operated from a principle of fidelity to the source, transcribing chant texts, rubrics, and even marginal amendments in their original spellings and layout with an impressive accuracy.
The notation is another matter. Perhaps in moments of haste or distraction, Jausions succumbs to scribal eye-skip, and makes some rather large mistakes through the omission of neume groups and missed clef changes. Rankin detected such errors in the strophic sections of the Visitatio sepulchri, but in fact, they occur throughout the manuscript.93 An example may be seen in a comparison of folio 105v of the manuscript (fig. 6) with Jausions’s copy (fig. 7). In the antiphon Stirps regalis for St. Edith, which begins on line 4, Jausions missed the clef change that occurs on the sixth line, just prior to the word spernans, with the result that the remainder of the line is transcribed a third too low. In short, we can [End Page 725]
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trust Jausions’s transcription of texts, but his notation of the melodies is less reliable. I suggest that he was accurate enough to allow for the study of chants contained in the copy, with the caveat that any findings must be adjusted as more individual folios of the manuscript are recovered.
the fourteenth-century scribe
The fourteenth-century scribe was also not without fault in the transcription of the music, as may be argued in the case of the antiphon Stirps regalis for Saint Edith on folio 105v (fig. 6).94 The prevailing modality of the piece, established by its range along with a repeated emphasis on G and its fifth, d, indicate that the piece should be classified in the authentic G mode (mode 7). In line 3, the five-syllable word pu-di-ci-ci-e is given only enough neume groups to accommodate four syllables, ligated as . Evidently, the scribe missed a neume or neume group. This faulty cadence to A is followed by a leap of a minor seventh to the high g that begins the next musical phrase, on the word spernans. Given the missing note and the awkward leap of a minor seventh to g, it seems likely that the passage on pudicicie should cadence to G, perhaps as . Likewise, the antiphon as notated ends on A, which is unexpected, given the overall orientation to G that occurs throughout the piece, and which cannot be explained away as a case of modal transposition. It seems much more likely that the final note of the end melisma, which the scribe struggled to fit onto the end of the staff, should be G instead of A. This reading, while conjectural, rests on internal evidence contained in the piece: that is, its modal structure and evidence of missing neume groups.
If this hypothesis it correct, it may tell us something about the relationship of the fourteenth-century scribe to the repertoire. The antiphon Stirps regalis for Saint Edith is a unicum, not known beyond Wilton. Such errors in notation would most likely have been committed by someone who was not a member the Wilton community—perhaps a scribe trained in the scriptorium of nearby Salisbury Cathedral—who was not familiar with the abbey’s unique repertoire, and therefore prone to error in transcribing its unica. Further comparison of the Wilton notational hand with those of Salisbury and English monastic scriptoria, and comparative transcription of shared repertoire is required to test this hypothesis. [End Page 728]
The identification of thirty-four leaves of the Wilton Processional is significant for several reasons. First and most immediately, the leaves give us direct, albeit fragmentary, evidence of the liturgical and literary culture of the celebrated Wilton Abbey at the turn of the fourteenth century. A comprehensive analysis of the Wilton Processional repertoire and ritual lies outside the scope of this current study, but the recovery of manuscript evidence from the Wilton liturgy will ultimately tell us much about the community’s theology, its Latinity, and its tradition of musico-poetic composition and performance.95 It will help us to map the sacred geography of Wilton, including its stational altars and processional routes. It will doubtless yield new insight into the community’s commemoration of its own history, which was closely tied to the veneration of its Anglo-Saxon patrons.
For now, it is possible to observe that while Wilton shared some repertoire with the influential rite of Salisbury Cathedral, located a mere three miles away, the house retained a surprising degree of liturgical independence.96 Further research must consider whether shared elements in the two repertoires represent Wilton’s borrowings from Salisbury, or if they point instead to a common English repertoire that predated the codification of the Sarum processional use, which took place over the course of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. A comparison of Wilton’s processional repertoire to that of other English monasteries reveals no greater affinity with one house over another, and is therefore inconclusive.97 Further research is needed to understand how the processional fits into wider English and French monastic traditions, both in terms of its repertoire, and its textual and melodic variants.
Second, we now have the means by which to judge the reliability of Dom Jausions’s 1860 copy of the processional, and to use it as a source. With access to the original leaves, we are now in a position to appreciate the impact of Jausions’s copy on the earliest Gregorian chant editions published by Solesmes Abbey in the later nineteenth century, and to learn more about the editing procedures that resulted in the melodies transmitted in the Solesmes editions. Much depends on the recovery of the 131 remaining leaves of the processional, which, as relics of a medieval past, were divided and scattered into the eager hands of North American collectors six decades ago. [End Page 729]
Certain methodological problems in the study of processionals must be addressed before the repertoire of Wilton Abbey can be understood in the wider context of fourteenth-century processional practice. Existing studies of processions and processionals are difficult to compare, because each study surveys a different group of sources, using separate parts of the repertoire as test cases, and applying various methodologies. Prior to the publication of Huglo’s Les manuscrits du processional, relatively few processionals had been completely indexed, making it difficult to come to any broader conclusions about the transmission of the processional repertoire, nor to say with certainty what is particular in a certain community’s use. Huglo’s study, which indexes hundreds of sources, and offers the first comprehensive typological model of the manuscript processional and its contents, has established the groundwork for a new era of scholarship on the processional. We now have the opportunity to develop sound methodologies based in this foundational work that also take advantage of the aggregate data provided by emergent digital resources in chant studies. The digital indexing of the contents of manuscripts representing the various subtypes of processional identified by Huglo seems to be the next logical step, as has already been achieved for books of the Office and Mass.98
The re-membering of the membra disjecta of the Wilton Processional also presents the opportunity for the integration of two modes of conceiving of and studying the manuscript. The first is of the manuscript leaf as material object: a specimen of visual design. The second is of texts and music stripped of the materiality of the book. My identification of thirty-four leaves of the manuscript dismembered by Ege as fragments of the Wilton Processional would not have been possible without the help of two digital humanities projects, namely, the Denison University Otto F. Ege Collection Web site, which indexes the manuscripts excerpted in Ege’s Fifty Original Leaves; and Cantus Database: Inventories of Chant Sources, which indexes the contents of liturgical manuscripts. But without cross indexing, such resources run the risk of replicating the same division between manuscript as material object and manuscript as ritual process that resulted from the processional’s bifurcated reception.99 [End Page 730]
With numerous initiatives underway for the study of manuscript fragments and their reconstruction into digital codices, it is indeed an exciting time to be working with manuscript fragments. But as Stephen Nichols has warned, digital humanities projects “too often exist in lonely splendor, each in its own sub-disciplinary silo.”100 It seems to me that for digital initiatives in the study of liturgical manuscript fragments to be truly successful, there is a need for interoperability between those databases that assemble images and those that index liturgical manuscript content, such as the Cantus Database. Likewise, it would be possible for a digital project such as the Cantus Database, which already links to images of whole manuscripts, to index and link to images of fragmentary sources as well, revealing repertorial relationships not visible in the material form of the manuscript. With material form and content thus remembered, we can truly begin to understand the Wilton Processional as both object and script, and to describe its role within the ritual, musical, and literary culture of Wilton Abbey.
In his vita of Saint Edith of Wilton, Goscelin of Saint-Bertin writes of the abbey’s lavish expenditure of silver for a fragment of a relic: a nail of the true cross. When Bishop Aethelwold in turn demanded a filing of the relic, the nuns of Wilton were distraught, but they could not refuse. They watched “the holy memorial of the Lord’s wound being divided, and they seemed to suffer as if they had seen the Lord himself being pierced, or as if their limbs were being cut apart.” But by the next morning, a great miracle had occurred: they found that the nail was once more whole “as if it had been blown on by bellows and solidified by fire, it had been hardened again into one piece, and no traces remained of the iron dust and fragments, no sign remained of the division and the work of the file.”101. We can only hope that through the miracle of digital technology, the Wilton Processional will someday, like the nail, be “remembered” and made whole. [End Page 731]
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Alison Altstatt currently holds the position as assistant professor of musicology and music history at the University of Northern Iowa School of Music. She would like to acknowledge that research for this article was supported by grants from the University of Northern Iowa School of Music, and from the College of Humanities, Arts and Sciences, and by a Heckman Stipend from the Hill Manuscript Museum and Library of St. John’s University in Collegeville, Minnesota.
This study has drawn on the expertise and assistance of many. First, my thanks goes to Scott Gwara for his invaluable advice and assistance in locating digital images of the Wilton Processional. I thank Christopher de Hamel for kindly answering my many questions and for allowing me to reproduce his images of the first folio of the manuscript. I am grateful to Katie Buehner, Colleen Theisen, Heather Wacha, Marian Wilson-Kimber, and Michele Zaldivar of the University of Iowa for supporting my study of the Iowa leaf in myriad ways. I thank Martin Dippon of the Bruno Stäblein Microfilm Archive at the University of Würzburg for allowing me access to the digital facsimile of Solesmes 596, and to Frère Geoffrey Kemlin of the Abbey of Solesmes for granting permission to reproduce images from this manuscript. I am much obliged to the following individuals who responded to my inquiries and helped me access digital images of the Wilton Processional: David Bindle of the University of Saskatchewan; Barbara B. Blumenthal of Smith College; Mildred Budny, Felicia Cukier and Sylvalya Elchin of the Art Gallery of Ontario; Lisa Fagin Davis; David T. Gura of the University of Notre Dame; Amy Pippin Heggemeyer of the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign; Deborah Hollis of the University of Colorado; Arielle Lavigne and Diane Mallstrom of the Public Library of Cincinnati and Hamilton County; P. J. MacDougall of Massey College, the University of Toronto; Kristen Nyitray of Stonybrook University; Amy Pickard of Buffalo and Erie County Public Library; Laura Ponikvar of the Cleveland Institute of Art; Frederick Porcheddu of Denison University; Edward G. Russo and John Teahan of the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art; Nadine Sergejeff of Newark Public Library; Joel Silver and Zach Downey of Indiana University; Elizabeth Spencer of the Toledo Museum of Art; Roger S. Wieck and John Vincler of the Morgan Library and Museum; Caroline White of the University of Massachusetts at Amherst; and the Manuscripts and the Special Collections staff of the New York State Library. I thank those who attended my talks on the Wilton Processional at Stanford University, the University of Iowa, the University of Northern Iowa, and the University of British Columbia for their thoughtful comments, especially George H. Brown, William Mahrt, and Margaret Pappano. I thank those who performed the Wilton Visitatio sepulchri with me at the 43d University of British Columbia Medieval Workshop / 10th Gregorian Institute of Canada Colloquium, Liturgical and Secular Drama in Medieval Europe: Text, Music, Image (ca.1000–1500) in October 2015: Benjamin Owen, Kerry McCarthy, and Celeste Winant, for enriching my understanding of the play, and Chantal Phan and James Blasina for making this performance possible. Deborah Campana, Richard Crocker, Lori Kruckenberg, Alison Mero, and two anonymous readers all provided helpful critique of drafts of this article. Any remaining errors or omissions are solely my own.
URLs cited herein accessed 25 February 2016.
1. For two contrasting accounts of the Solesmes revival of Gregorian chant, see Pierre Combe, The Restoration of Gregorian Chant: Solesmes and the Vatican Edition, trans. by Theodore N. Marier and William Skinner (Washington DC: Catholic University of America Press, 2003); and Katherine Bergeron, Decadent Enchantments: The Revival of Gregorian Chant at Solesmes, California Studies in 19th Century Music, 10 (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1998).
2. The most thorough descriptions of Solesmes 596 are found in George Benoît-Castelli, “Un processional anglais du XIVe. S.: Le processional dit de Rollington,” Ephemerides liturgicae 75 (1961): 281–326; and Michel Huglo, Les manuscrits du processional, vol. 2: France à Afrique du Sud, Répertoire international des sources musicales, B XIV/2 (Munich: G. Henle, 2004), 156–58.
3. Neil R. Ker, Medieval Libraries of Great Britain: A List of Surviving Books, 2d ed., Royal Historical Society Guides and Handbooks, 3 (London: Offices of the Royal Historical Society, 1964), 198.
4. For more on current initiatives and case studies in digital fragmentology, see Lisa Fagin Davis, “The Promise of Digital Fragmentology,” Manuscript Road Trip, 13 July 2015, https://manuscriptroadtrip.wordpress.com/2015/07/13/manuscript-road-trip-the-promise-of-digital-fragmentology/.
5. For a comprehensive assessment of the culture of learning at Wilton Abbey, see Stephanie Hollis, “Wilton as a Centre of Learning,” in Writing the Wilton Women: Goscelin’s Legend of Edith and the Liber Confortatorius, ed. Stephanie Hollis with W. R. Barnes, et al., Medieval Women: Texts and Contexts, 9 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004), 307–38.
6. James Edward Nightingale, Memorials of Wilton and Other Papers, ed. Edward Kite (Devizes: George Simpson, 1906), 2–3, 6–7.
7. See ibid.; Stephanie Hollis, “St. Edith and the Wilton Community,” in Writing the Wilton Women, 245–80; Katie Bugyis, “Ministers of Christ: Benedictine Women Religious in Central Medieval England” (Ph.D. diss., University of Notre Dame, 2015), 26–38.
8. Goscelin of Saint-Bertin, “Vita of Edith,” translated by Michael Wright and Kathleen Loncar, in Writing the Wilton Women, 30.
9. Ibid., 32–34, 38–39, 48, 53.
10. See Hollis, “Wilton as a Centre of Learning,” 312–18.
11. Ibid., 331.
12. Ibid., 309–10, 318–35.
13. Ibid., 337.
14. A fifteenth-century list of books thought to be from Wilton is transmitted in British Library MS Faustina B III, fol. 263v. See English Benedictine Libraries: The Shorter Catalogues, ed. Richard Sharpe, et al., Corpus of British Medieval Library Catalogues, 4 (London: The British Library in association with the British Academy, 1996), 644–46.
15. Benoît-Castelli, “Un processionnal anglais,” 281–326; Combe, The Restoration of Gregorian Chant, 23–26.
16. Benoît-Castelli, ‘Un processional anglais,” 282.
17. Ibid., 15.
18. Combe, The Restoration of Gregorian Chant, 27.
19. Ibid., 28.
20. Ibid., 25.
21. In a description of a leaf of the manuscript sold by Sotheby’s New York auction house in 1997, Christopher de Hamel detected an erasure of the name Stephen Renshort and a date of 1652, but no more is known about this possible previous owner (Christopher de Hamel, personal communication, 17 June 2015). De Hamel’s description for Sotheby’s catalog Western Manuscripts and Miniatures sold on 17 June 1997, lot 20, item (b) reads: “leaf from a Processional for the use of nuns, 9 lines of text and music, penwork to initials including a grotesque in a hood, 181mm. by 121mm., England, ca.1300, belonged to Stephen Renshort (1652) and Otto Ege (1888–1951).” Described on Invaluable: The World’s Premier Auctions, http://www.invaluable.com/auction-lot/leaves-from-medieval-liturgical-manuscripts,-most-20-c-kh524hu2l3.
22. Benoît-Castelli, “Un processionnal anglais,” 284–85; Combe, The Restoration of Gregorian Chant, 25–26.
23. Benoît-Castelli, “Un processionnal anglais,” 284–85. Benoît-Castelli also proposed an alternative theory that the manuscript could have been taken to France, where some of the congregation fled after Wilton’s dissolution in 1538.
24. Ibid., 284. The processional contains no calendar.
25. Otto F. Ege, “I Am a Biblioclast,” Avocations: A Magazine of Hobbies and Leisure (March 1938), 518.
26. Scott Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts: A Study of Ege’s Manuscript Collections, Portfolios, and Retail Trade (Cayce, SC: De Brailes Publishing, 2013), 1–4.
27. University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, Spurlock Museum, 1948.06.0004. Barbara Shailor and Scott Gwara have documented that Ege also sold single leaves of manuscripts included in the portfolio as individual or “rogue” leaves. See Barbara A. Shailor, “Otto Ege: His Manuscript Fragment Collection and the Opportunities Presented by Digital Technology,” Journal of the Rutgers University Libraries 60, no. 1 (April 2003): 2–9; Shailor, “Otto Ege: Portfolios vs. Leaves,” Manuscripta 53, no. 1 (2009): 13–27; Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 67–80.
28. Philip C. Duschnes (firm), Original Vellum Leaves from Medieval Manuscripts, catalog 88 (1948): 9. I am grateful to Heather Wacha, doctoral candidate in history at the University of Iowa, for retrieving this source from the library of the Grolier Club, New York City.
29. Christopher de Hamel in Sotheby’s Western Manuscripts and Miniatures, 26 November 1985, preface to lot 39, as cited in Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 30 n. 77.
30. Duschnes, Original Vellum Leaves, 9.
31. Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 347.
32. For a comprehensive discussion of the Fifty Original Leaves portfolio and its contents, see Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 44–49; 115–36.
33. A letter dated 14 May 1953 from Louis L. Ege to Mrs. Louise B. Clark of the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art announced the sale of the Fifty Original Leaves portfolio. See ibid., 81.
34. Letter dated 1 March 1955 from Louise L. Ege to Raymond Pitcairn, founder of the Glencairn Museum, transcribed by Peter Kidd in “Ege Leaves at the Glencairn Museum,” Medieval Manuscripts Provenance: Weekly Notes and Observations, 24 January 2015, http://mssprovenance.blogspot.com/2015/01/ege-leaves-at-glencairn-museum.html.
35. “Fifty Original Leaves from Medieval Manuscripts (Otto F. Ege Collection),” University of Minnesota Libraries, Special Collections, Rare Books, and Manuscripts, https://www.lib.umn.edu/scrbm/ege-collection.
36. Louise Ege, letter to Raymond Pitcairn, 14 November 1955. Transcribed by Peter Kidd in “Ege Leaves at the Glencairn Museum.” For further discussion of this letter, see Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 44.
37. Benoît-Castelli, “Un processionnal anglais,” 288–89. Benoît-Castelli noted that the manuscript must postdate 1246, the date of the canonization of St. Edmond the Archbishop. He further observed that the manuscript lacks the Feast of Corpus Christi, which was instated by Urban IV in 1264, but not imposed on the church until 1312. Benoît-Castelli notes that the feast was not adopted at Cluny until 1315. He dismisses contrary evidence in the inclusion of the Feasts of the Transfiguration and Edmund the Martyr in the following manner: he explains that although the manuscript transmits the Feast of the Transfiguration, instituted by Calixtus III in 1497, the feast was already celebrated in Cluny by the twelfth century. A Cluniac influence is supported by the manuscript’s transmission of chants taken from the Office of the Transfiguration composed by Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny. Similarly, though Saint Edmund the Martyr was not canonized until the fifteenth century, his feast was celebrated in England as early as 1247, when his Office was included in the antiphoner Worcester F. 160. Benoît-Castelli does not mention that the processional also assigns a chant for Saint Dominic, canonized in 1234, to Tuesday of Rogations (see Solesmes 596, fol. 95v).
38. Ibid., 289–93.
39. See ibid., 296–321. Benoît-Castelli cites concordances with Bibliothèque nationale de France (FPn) lat. 17296 (St. Denis, twelfth cent.); F-Pn lat. 12044 (St. Maur-des-Fosses, twelfth cent.); Bibliothèque municipale de Rouen (F-R) A. 233 (Jumiège, fourteenth cent.); F-R A. 537 (Rouen, twelfth cent,); F-Pn 904 (Rouen, thirteenth cent.); among others.
40. Ibid., 297.
41. See ibid. Benoît-Castelli speculates that some of the chant texts may have been written by the poet Muriel of Angers. The unica found in the manuscript will be the subject of a second study: Alison Altstatt, Songs for Saint Edith: Music and Liturgy in the Wilton Processional, in preparation.
42. Benoît-Castelli, “Un processional anglais,” 299–305.
43. Huglo, Les manuscrits du processional, 2:156–58.
44. Ibid., 38*, 40*.
45. Ibid., 156–58.
46. Susan K. Rankin, “A New English Source of the Visitatio Sepulchri,” Journal of the Plainsong & Mediaeval Music Society 4 (1981): 1–11.
47. Ibid., 5.
48. Margaret Aziza Pappano, “Sister Acts: Conventual Performance and the Visitatio sepulchri in England and France,” in Medieval Constructions in Gender and Identity: Essays in Honor of Joan M. Ferrante, ed. Teodolinda Barolini, 43–67, Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 293 (Tempe: Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2005); Anne Bagnall Yardley, Performing Piety: Musical Culture in Medieval English Nunneries (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2006), 153–55, 243–54. See also Alison Findlay, Playing Spaces in Early Women’s Drama (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006), 148–49; and Katie Bugyis, “Ministers of Christ,” 362–65.
49. Christopher de Hamel described leaves of the manuscript auctioned by Sotheby’s in 1985, 1995 and 1997. See Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 119; and Invaluable: The World’s Premier Auctions.
50. For a discussion of issues and effective practices relating to the virtual reunion of manuscripts, see Anne Marie Austenfeld, “Virtual Reunification as the Future of ‘codices dispersi’: Practices and Standards Developed by e-codices—Virtual Manuscript Library of Switzerland,” IFLA Journal 36, no. 2 (June 2010): 145–54.
51. See Barbara Shailor, “Otto Ege: His Manuscript Fragment Collection”; Shailor, “Otto Ege: Portfolios vs. Leaves”; Remaking the Book: Digitally Reconstructing the Otto Ege Manuscript Portfolios, 13–14 June 2005, University of Saskatchewan, conference program at http://library2.usask.ca/ege/program.htm; Frederick Porcheddu, Greta Smith, et al., The Otto F. Ege Collection: The Ege Manuscript Leaf Portfolios, Denison University Library, http://ege.denison.edu/; Frederick Porcheddu, “Re-assembling the Leaves: Otto Ege and the Potential of Technology,” Manuscripta: A Journal for Manuscript Research 53, no. 1 (2009): 29–48; Peter Stoicheff, “Putting Humpty Together Again: Otto Ege’s Scattered Leaves,” Digi tal Studies / Le champ numérique 1 no. 3 (2009), http://www.digitalstudies.org/ojs/index.php/digital_studies/article/view/157/225; Lisa Fagin Davis, “Otto Ege, St. Margaret, and Digital Fragmentology,” Manuscript Road Trip, 5 March 2014, https://manuscriptroadtrip.wordpress.com/2014/03/05/manuscript-road-trip-otto-ege-st-margaret-and-digital-fragmentology/; Lisa Fagin Davis, “Re-constructing the Beauvais Missal,” Manuscript Road Trip, 24 March 2015, https://manuscriptroadtrip.wordpress.com/2015/03/24/manuscript-road-trip-reconstructing-the-beauvais-missal/c; Lisa Fagin Davis, “The Promise of Digital Fragmentology.”
52. Porcheddu and Smith, The Otto F. Ege Collection. For planned expansion of the site, see Porcheddu, “Reassembling the Leaves,” 43–48.
53. Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 119.
54. Scott Gwara, e-mail communication to the author, 19 May 2015.
55. Mildred Budny, “The Tainted Legacy of ‘Biblioclasts’: The Case of Otto F. Ege as Collector and Despoiler,” 26 June 2015, Research Group on Manuscript Evidence, http://manuscriptevidence.org/wpme/lost-and-foundlings/. The leaf in question was donated by Giles Constable to the University of Notre Dame’s Hesburgh Library, where it bears the shelf mark Constable MS 4 (see table 1), David Gura, e-mail communication to the author, 1 September 2015. For Budny’s thoughts after learning of the leaf ’s provenance, see “A New Leaf from ‘Otto Ege Manuscript 8,’” 15 August 2015, Research Group on Manuscript Evidence, http://manuscriptevidence.org/wpme/a-new-leaf-from-otto-ege-manuscript-8/.
56. Sotheby’s (London), Western Manuscripts and Miniatures, catalogs of sales 26 November 1985, 20 June 1995, 2 December 1997; Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 47; Budny, “A New Leaf from ‘Otto Ege Manuscript 8.’”
57. I am grateful to Michele Zaldivar, doctoral candidate in musicology at the University of Iowa School of Music, for bringing this leaf to my attention. Michele Zaldivar, e-mail communication, 8 May 2015.
58. Diane Droste describes the largest Sarum manuscript processional as measuring 21.4 cm × 14.8 cm. By comparison, the Iowa and Lilly leaves measure 18.3 cm × 12 cm. See Droste, “The Musical Notation and Transmission of the Music of the Sarum Use, 1225–1500” (Ph.D. diss., University of Toronto, 1983), 252.
60. Another example of a Credo bearing the names of the apostles is transmitted in the gradual Düsseldorf, Heinrich-Heine-Universität, Universitäts- und Landesbibliothek (D-DÜl), MS D-11, ca. 1400, from the Dominican convent of Paradies bei Soest. Yet this example is fundamentally different in both its manuscript context and textual style. First, the Credo is recorded in the kyriale of the gradual, along with other items of the Mass Ordinary, and not in the context of a dramatic ritual. The names of the apostles appear in a different order, and the Amen bears the additional name of “Mary Magdalene,” reflecting an independent transmission. Unlike in the Iowa leaf, where the names of the apostles appear as performance indications, the names of the apostles in D-DÜl MS D-11 are written in a unique form of micrography seen throughout the Soest manuscripts, as discussed by Susan Marti in “Sisters in the Margins?: Scribes and Illuminators in the Scriptorium of Paradies near Soest,” in Leaves from Paradise: The Cult of John the Evangelist at the Dominican Convent of Paradies bei Soest, ed. Jeffrey F. Hamburger (Cambridge, MA: Houghton Library of the Harvard College Library, distrb. Harvard University Press, 2008), 5–45. It is apparent that the names of the apostles in the Soest gradual serve not as performance indications, but rather as theological or pedagogical glossing of the Creed. I thank Lori Kruckenberg for bringing this example to my attention.
62. Crocker and Hiley, “Credo.” While this legend originally explained the origin of the Apostle’s Creed, here it is applied to the Nicene Creed. A manuscript image illustrating this legend may be found in Bibliothèque Mazarine MS 0924, fol.150v.
63. See Alexandra F. Johnson, “The Plays of the Religious Guilds of York: The Creed Play and the Pater Noster Play,” Speculum 50, no. 1 (January 1975): 55, 57–70.
64. Gwara, Otto Ege’s Manuscripts, 119, appendix X; de Hamel in Sotheby’s Western Manuscripts and Miniatures sold on June 17, 1997, lot 20, item (b).
65. Original rubrics referring to cantrices appear on fols. 16r–v, 30r–v, 43r–v, 44v, and 59r. Those referring to sorores appear on fols. 30v, 44v, and 57v.
66. See William Smith, “Iwi of Wilton: A Forgotten Saint,” Analecta Bollandiana 117 (1999): 297–318.
67. See fol. 74v line 9, and fol. 98v line 8, and fol. 105v line 1. Iwi appears in an additional litany in Solesmes 596 on fol. 51v line 5.
69. See Droste, “The Musical Notation and Transmission of the Music of the Sarum Use.”
70. Penwork drolleries appear in the margins of fols. 1v, 8v, 9v, 10r, 30r, 59v, 105v, 107v, and 119v.
71. Raymond Clemens and Timothy Graham, Introduction to Manuscript Studies (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 2007), 146, and including other examples described in this paragraph.
72. Compare with the thirteenth-century gradual from Salisbury Cathedral, British Museum, Central Archive MS Add. 12194, reproduced in Graduale Sarisburiense: A Reproduction in Facsimile of a Manuscript of the Thirteenth Century with a Dissertation and Historical Index, ed. Walter Howard Frere, 2 vols. (London: Quaritch, 1894).
73. A facsimile of this manuscript is Antiphonaire monastique: XIIIe siecle, Codex F. 160 de la Bibliotheque de la Cathedrale de Worcester, ed. Laurentia McLachlan, Paléographie musicale, 12 (Berne: H. Lang, 1971).
74. The notation may be compared with that of the Graduale Sarisburiense, ed. Frere, and the fourteenth-century Penpont Antiphonal, reproduced in National Library of Wales Ms. 20541 E: The Penpont Antiphonal, ed. Owain Tudor Edwards, Veröffentlichungen mittelalterlischer Musikhandschriften, 22 (Ottowa: Institute of Mediaeval Music, 1997).
75. Compare with Droste, “The Musical Notation and Transmission of the Music of the Sarum Use,” 88–89.
76. Compare with Graduale Sarisburiense, ed. Frere, plate no. 1; and David Hiley, Western Plainchant: A Handbook (Oxford, Eng.: Clarendon Press; New York; Oxford University Press, 1993), 425, plate nos. 10 and 15.
77. Droste has noted that use of the G clef in Sarum sources is most common in processionals, due either to their later date, or the wider range of their repertoire. See Droste, “The Musical Notation and Transmission of the Music of the Sarum Use,” 93–97.
78. Ibid., 6, 21–22.
79. Ibid., 79.
80. Ibid., 43.
81. Compare with ibid., 117–85.
82. See Hiley, Western Plainchant, 624.
83. Benoît-Castelli, “Un processionnal anglais,” 282. The translation is mine.
84. Combe, The Restoration of Gregorian Chant, 25 n. 38.
85. See ibid., 90–91, in particular figs. 15a–b of the 1873 Directorium chori, whose notation may have been modeled on that of the Wilton Processional.
86. Susan Rankin, “A New English Source,” 5, 11 (critical commentary).
87. Ibid. 11, (critical commentary, no. 15).
88. Ibid. (critical commentary, nos. 5 and 16).
89. Ibid. (critical commentary, no. 1). Anne Bagnall Yardley also accepts this transcription choice: see Yardley, Performing Piety, appendix D, 243.
90. I am grateful to George H. Brown for pointing out that the extended meaning of texere has precedents in classical usage, for example in Virgil’s Aeneid, 5:592–93: aud alio Teucrum nati vestigia cursu impediunt texuntque fugas et proelia ludo.
91. Goscelin of Saint-Bertin praised Edith of Wilton for her creation of a lavishly embellished liturgical vestment. See Goscelin of Saint-Bertin, “The Vita of Edith,” 38–39, 48. The vita of Edward the Confessor, as transmitted by Richard of Cirencester, likewise lauds Queen Edith, educated at Wilton, for her needlework. See Hollis, “Wilton as a Centre of Learning,” 331.
92. Rankin, “A New English Source,” 11 (critical commentary, no. 8).
93. See ibid., 6 (transcription, staff 9, pitches over the syllables “le” and “vi”); p. 7 (transcription, staff 4, notes over syllable “cis”); and p. 11 (critical commentary, nos. 17–18).
94. I thank William Mahrt and Richard Crocker for their insightful comments on this antiphon. William Mahrt, personal communication to the author, 26 June 2015; Richard Crocker, personal communication to the author, 27 June 2015.
95. Alison Altstatt, Songs for Saint Edith: Music and Liturgy in the Wilton Processional, in preparation.
96. This comparison based on a survey of Oxford, Bodleian Library MS Rawl. Liturg. D IV, Sarum processional; and Cambridge University Library MS Mm. 2g, Sarum antiphoner, reproduced in Antiphonale Sarisburiense, ed. Walter Frere.
97. See Malcolm Floyd, “Processional Chants in English Monastic Sources,” 1–48.
98. For an overview of digital initiatives in chant studies, see Alison Altstatt, “Digital and Multimedia Scholarship: [review of] Cantus Planus Regensburg, directed by David Hiley; Corpus Antiphonalium Officii-Ecclesiae Centralis Europae, directed by László Dobszay and Gábor Prószeky; CANTUS: A Database for Latin Ecclesiastical Chant, directed by Debra Lacoste; and Global Chant Database and The CANTUS Index, both directed by Jan Koláček,” Journal of the American Musicological Society 67, no. 1 (Spring 2014): 267–85.
99. My future work on the Wilton Processional will include a complete index of the manuscript’s content using the Cantus Database, linked to images of the manuscript hosted by Manuscriptlink (http://lichen.csd.sc.edu/manuscriptlink/), a platform for digital reunification of manuscript fragments, codirected by Scott Gwara of the University of South Carolina, and Eric J. Johnson of The Ohio State University.
100. Stephen Nichols, “Time to Change our Thinking: Dismantling the Silo Model of Digital Scholarship” Ariadne: Web Magazine for Information Professionals 58 (30 January 2009), http://www.ariadne.ac.uk/issue58/nichols.
101. Goscelin of Saint-Bertin, “Vita of Edith,” 45.