Essays in Medieval Studies 6
[Page numbers of the printed text appear at the right in bold.]
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Ascension Sundays in Tropers:
The Innovative Scenes in the Prüm and Canterbury Tropers
and Their Relationship to the Accompanying Texts

Janet Marquardt-Cherry

Eastern Illinois University


    Tropes are additional lines of text and music interpolated within liturgical prayers. Tropers are manuscripts containing tropes and other variable material such as Sequence hymns.1 The two tropers I will discuss here also have painted illustrations for major feast days. They belong to a group of only four extant illustrated tropers and represent two completely different traditions of troper production. The earlier, German manuscript is dated ca. 1000 and located by a contemporary colophon at Prüm monastery at the western border of Germany. It is cataloged as MS. 9448 at the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris. It was an "in-house" product designed to record the Prüm monks' celebration of the Mass throughout the Church calendar year. The Ascension scene from the temporale in the Prüm Troper is just one example of that community's adaptation of recent pictorial traditions to fit a singular copying of the Sequence hymn from, like most of the material in the manuscript, St. Gall.2 The abbot, or whoever was in charge of the design of this manuscript, combined literary references with concepts of Christ's Ascension in order to obtain a rare emphatic "leaping" version of the independent or Western iconographic type.3

    The other manuscript, most certainly made at Canterbury, stands as a classic monument between two worlds, that of the Anglo-Saxon book-painting schools coming out of Winchester and the Normanized world of Edward the Confessor's reign. It appears to have been made as an anthology, recording for all time the music and text of every trope used in the liturgy of contemporary Canterbury around the year 1050, whether indigenous or recently imported. In this case, the illustration serves a double purpose. The iconography repeats, and enhances considerably, the uniquely Anglo-Saxon tradition of the disappearing Christ.4 But this is only the iconography. King Edward's clear preference for things Continental has crept in here as well, and whether, as has been suggested, he was involved in any way in the direct intent of the manuscript or not, there were many of his supporters/appointees whose comparable sympathetic view could account for the dichotomy we see.5 For, in direct antithesis to the iconography, the painting style was deliberately fash-

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ioned by painters who knew and could work in the Ottonian/Flemish style of northern France/western Germany. The eleventh-century English directive to produce miniatures in such a style illustrates Dodwell's theory that by this date the heavy, colorful, and rather stiff "imperial" style was seen as more formal, valuable, and appropriate to a richly commissioned piece of art.6 And as eclectic as are the various trope entries, so are the miniatures. Though they are generally linked by one forward-looking style which combined a Continental boldness and heavy color with an Anglo-Saxon concern for folds, they are nonetheless, I believe, by at least three different hands. It is quite conceivable that monks more or less trained in the Ottonian style were each employed for a short time as the accumulation and copying of the troper material progressed.

    I will focus my discussion on the relationship between the unique iconographic features in both these scenes and the relevant textual material, beginning with the earlier manuscript. In the Prüm Troper, the Ascension scene on folio 45 verso


[Fig. 1: Paris, B. N. fonds latin MS. 9448, folios 45r, 46v. Reproduced by permission of the Bibliothèque Nationale.]

is an innovative adaptation of Carolingian visual models based on the descriptive Sequence text for the day. It appears as an almost full-page illustration. Christ takes up the upper half of the oblong setting in a rough cloudlike mandorla which is studded with white stars. He moves up toward the right corner of the frame, propelled by his own feet in a diagonal stepping motion. He wears a white tunic and purple mantle. The Virgin Mary appears in the center of the lower half of the scene. Ten apostles surround her, five on either side. Her hands are open, palms up, looking to her left up at Christ over the heads of the apostles. The apostles stand in contrapposto, each with one foot flat on the ground and the other tiptoe so that the inside knees are bent as though they are rearing back in amazement. They all look up into the sky, except for two on the right who exchange looks. Of these two, the one who has to turn his head away from Christ in order to see his companion raises his right arm, palm up, in a striking gesture which forms a silhouette against the background above the other heads.

    This figure of Christ follows the so-called Hellenistic or Western tradition of Ascension scenes where Christ actively steps up into heaven rather than being carried up while appearing frontally immobile (the Eastern or Oriental type). The Hellenistic type may have originally derived from emperor's apotheosis images,7 and illustrates the Gospel of Luke, which states only that Christ parted from the apostles, as opposed to other texts which specifically refer to his being passively "taken up."8 It was copied from early Christian works by the Carolingian ateliers of the eighth and ninth centuries.9

    A decorated initial from the ninth-century Drogo Sacramentary

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contains an Ascension scene with many of the same features as the Prüm miniature.10 The figure of an active stepping Christ and the disciples below, as well as the overall effect of agitation due to the way the arm gestures and modeled clothing are exaggerated, even in this tiny drawing, shows the kind of tradition which the Prüm artist knew. However, the contrasting treatment of the figure of Christ in the Drogo Sacramentary and in Paris 9448 is a key difference. The Prü artist has adapted the stepping position into a new action. Rather than stepping up the mountain and off the earth, Christ now climbs through the air in his mandorla and toward the hand of God. The mandorla was an element originally from the static, Eastern version of the scene, and where it is used elsewhere in contemporary Western images of the stepping Christ the design is still a stiff oval shape, as can be seen in a ninth-century ivory now in Minden or in the nearby contemporary Trier manuscript, the Codex Egberti of around 980.11 This version shows us an active Christ within the static mandorla, whose hand touches that of God, and, especially in the ivory the main energy in the scene comes from the dramatic angels' positions and the multiple physical reactions of the disciples below. In the Prüm illustration, God's hand does not reach down, nor does it stretch toward Christ, rather it decidedly curves over his in a blessing position. Accordingly, Christ's hand does not reach to grasp God's hand either, and the large gap between them reinforces the impression that Christ is ascending independently. In a rare iconographic choice, there are no angels to distract from his movements or to imply that he was helped up. The mandorla is defined by fluid edges. Although gesticulating, the lower figures are all standing in one cohesive form around the Virgin. In its ascending Christ, the Minden ivory has one of the closest resemblances to the Prüm miniature which we can find today, so the variations between them give striking emphasis to the independent "leaping" character of our scene.

    In Beissel's 1906 publication on the Prüm Troper, he linked the Ascension image to part of Notker's original version of the Sequence text for the day but did not note that it was not copied exactly in that form.12 The hymn relates the idea of leaping to three distinct events in Christ's life the Nativity, the Harrowing of Hell, and the Ascension--in such lines as:

Nam transilivit omnis strenue montes colliculosque Bethel.
Saltum de caelo decit in virginalem ventrem, inde in pelagus saeculi. Postquam illud suo mitigavit potentatu, tetras Flegetontis assiliit tenebras...
Denique saltum dederat hodie maximum nubes polosque cursu praepeti transvolans...
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Celebret ergo populus hunc diem credulus.

(For he leapt actively over all mountains and hills from Bethel
He made a leap from heaven into the Virgin's womb
And from there into the sea of the world...
After he tamed it [the world] with his power
He leapt over the four darknesses [hell] through Phlegethon...
Finally today he made the highest leap,
Moving headlong with a steep course
Therefore let the faithful celebrate this day.)13

Beissel did not discuss this text in detail and therefore did not explain an important feature. Notker links Christ in a peculiar manner over and over with the name Idithun ("Huic nomen extat conveniens Idithun" [For this one the name Idithun is suitable]), referring back to Jedithun, or shortened Ethan, from the Old Testament, who was one of King David's three choirmasters and supposed author of Psalms 38, 61, and 76.14 The medieval connotation of Idithun which Notker used in the Sequence, however, actually originates with Isidore of Seville's Etymologia.15 When the scribes at Prüm copied the Sequence text, they did not copy each word of Notker's verbatim, rather they replaced some of the rather tame or more passive verbs in the original with more active, energetic verbs, carrying independent meanings (i.e., rather than "pass over" or "ascend" we find more words connoting leaping):

Postquam illud suo mitigavit potentatu tetras Phlegatontis transilvit tenebras...
Denique saltum dederat hodie maximum nubes polosque cursu praepeti transiens.16

In fact these are the same verb stems used by Isidore in the seventh century to describe Idithun:

Idithun transiliens eos, sive saliens eos. Quosdam enim inhaerentes humo, curvatos in terram, et ea in imo sunt cogitantes, et in rebus transeuntibus spem ponentes transilivit canendo canendo, iste qui vocatur transiliens.17

That this definition was known in the Middle Ages and would have been available to the monks of Prüm is suggested by the fact that the same entry appears in Johannes Balbus's Catholicon, written as late as the mid-thirteenth century.18

    The illustration was designed to stress these same features. Just as the Sequence was modified to convey more dramatically the images of Christ's strong ascent into heaven on his own power, so the painted

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miniature focuses on Christ's sudden ability to step up through the air toward heaven. He is shown without support from below or help from heaven above. The reference to the Harrowing of Hell in the Sequence may even be applicable to the iconography of the illustration, as a very similar Christ is pictured in other manuscripts pulling souls up out of hell by their wrists.19 He is clearly the source of power in these images and that association in the text may have affected the artist's conception of Christ at the Ascension.

    Psalm 46, which is sung at both the Introit and the Offertory, gives a mood of rejoicing and activity to the day.20 It appears the first time on folio 46 recto directly across from the illustration on folio 45 verso. The figures mirror this mood with their gestures of surprise and sudden movement.

    Many of the scenes and texts in the Prüm Troper show a deliberate modification of the source texts and images. New pieces were written, old ones placed with different tropes than commonly used, scenes were often simplified to focus on one feature or the traditional iconography split in two to fit the long narrow format. From analysis of other scenes involving such figures as some of the Prüm patron saints or a very Carolingian King David in the Christmas cycle, I have come to see this manuscript as a statement of independence from a monastery that had been a primary Carolingian royal foundation with many privileges and powers but which under the Ottonians was being threatened with Henry II's economic strong-arming reform. Changing the text and creating a simpler, stronger image to fit it for the Ascension feast was only one small part of this tendency toward independence in a manuscript made in the face of Henry's oppressive monastic "inventories." I cannot go so far as to relate the resulting visualization of Christ as a strong and independent figure eschewing the control of God's hand directly to the political vision Prüm monks had of their community, but it certainly fits the general profile of the manuscript.

    The Anglo-Saxon Troper, cataloged in the British Library as the first 36 folios of Cotton MS. Caligula A.xiv, contains an image amazingly correspondent to the one in Paris 9448, even though at first glance it seems to be missing a major portion of the key persona's body. This is a prime example of the so-called disappearing Christ, named by Schapiro in his 1943 article which claimed an Anglo-Saxon invention of the type.21 We can now go beyond Schapiro's general associations and find the sources that account for this particular troper illustration and possibly the incentive for the movement in this direction of the entire group of Anglo-Saxon disappearing Christ Ascension scenes from the mid-eleventh century, which includes the ones from the Sacramentary of Robert

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of Jumièges (folio 81v) and the Bury Psalter (folio 73).22

    I believe that the whole group can be attributed to Canterbury, an atelier with few attributions at the time when Schapiro was writing but since given a rather diverse and important role in disseminating and expanding the earlier Winchester style and iconography during the eleventh century. In fact the strong relationship between the Caligula scene and the Æthelwold Benedictional cannot be overlooked for many elements in the rest of the composition.23 We know of the dose dependency of Canterbury on Winchester, particularly in liturgical elements like those in this troper.24 Thus the "disappearing Christ" invention is localized and can be related to a specific set of influences, not just general innovative tendencies of late Anglo-Saxon art.

    If we take some of the textual sources which Schapiro suggests for the concept of the disappearing Christ and apply them directly to the Caligula Troper, we will see that, as at Prüm, the painted illustration is a gloss on or a visualization of the designers' interpretation of this feast. And again in this case, the text is right there in the manuscript, but it can only be fully understood if one looks outside it at the monks' textual models.

    The full-page Ascension scene in Caligula A.xiv also contains a profile Christ figure actively mounting a cloud toward heaven.


[Fig. 2: London, B. L., Cotton MS. Caligula A xiv, folio 18r. Reproduced by permission of the British Library.]

Here, however, only the bottom half of the figure is visible. The upper torso and head are obscured by a wavy red cloud, so that all we see, and in turn all that is seen by the disciples below, are the stepping feet and some drapery. Besides the active pose of the feet relating to the same passages of the Gospel of Luke, this scene also illustrates other parts of the biblical texts where Christ's actual disappearance is referred to. Acts 1:9 reads "he was lifted up, and a cloud removed him from the their sight" and in the first Greek form of the apocryphal gospel of Nicodemus, he "saw a cloud overshadow both him [Christ] and his disciples and the cloud took him up to heaven."25 Two angels hold a scroll between them which seems to act as a semicircular support for the lower left foot. The scroll is a common element in the Caligula Troper scenes and in other products of the Canterbury painting atelier at this time as well.

    The bottom half of the folio is divided from the top by three semicircular mounds, forming the background behind Mary and the twelve apostles. This three-part mountain is inscribed MONS OLIVETI. The Virgin looks up and places her right hand on her chest, while holding her left palm open to the viewer. To the right, St. Peter's right arm points sharply up with an open palm. Five more apostles are stacked behind him with two more lifted open hands. To the left of Mary appear six more apostles. Two hold books and again three arms are lifted up with open palms. These six hands, disproportionately enlarged (like many in the

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style of this manuscript) form a symmetrical group of gestures across the page in front of the mountain.

    The scene is framed by a simple set of blue-green and red bands with rosettes standing out from each corner. Around the outer edges of this frame a text appears in Latin hexameter:

Ecce biri bini. niveo candore decori.
Secus descipulos, stant tristi mente coactos
Vobis ne mirum videatur et esse molestum
Xpi conscensus hos vobis dico recensus.
Ut tendit celo. descendet sic iterato
Ad celi solium, scandens sibi iure paternum.

(Behold a pair of men in dazzling white cloaks
Stand behind the disciples who are depressed by a sad mind.
Lest it should seem wondrous to you and therefore be bothersome
I tell you about this recent ascent of Christ
As he reaches heaven thus he will descend again
Finally climbing to the throne of heaven, his paternal heritage by law.)

This sort of exhortation in the manner of a sermon, the first-person voice explaining things to the third-person viewer, is a clue to the source for the imagery evoked by the hexameter. Just as the Sequence for the Ascension in the Prüm manuscript related Christ's many leaps to other events in his life, and was in turn influenced by the seventh-century definitions of Isidore, so three Anglo-Saxon authors wrote similar exegeses on the Ascension. They were Bede (eighth century), Cynewulf (c. 800), and the unknown author of the Blickling Homilies (tenth century).26 Bede's hymn on the Ascension parallels the Sequence copied in Caligula A.xiv for the day, "Rex Omnipotens," but introduces some important elements like references to the Nativity and the Second Coming.27 It, along with Pope Gregory's famous sermon on the Ascension, have been pointed to by Cynewulf scholars as being the models for Part II of his Christ poem. Thus the poem is divided into "Advent," "Ascension," and "Doomsday."281

    Like Pope Gregory and the Blickling homilist, Cynewulf considers the question of the men or angels in white cloaks at length in relationship to the Nativity and this is the first point in the hexameter verse. Later in the poem he practically repeats Notker's Sequence verbatim when he counts the great leaps of Christ. The hexameter around the scene in the Caligula Troper has been written to correspond to these three events as well. It brings in Advent or the Nativity where it says "I will tell you about this recent ascent of Christ" and Doomsday or the Second

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Coming in the line "As he reaches heaven thus he will descend again." These are also related in the Blickling Homilies. The latter relationship must be seen in view of the Æthelwold Benedictional illustration of Acts 1:9 ("This Jesus which has been taken away from you to the heaven will come again in the same way as you have seen him go") with two matching scenes for the Ascension and the Second Coming. Yet as much as the hexameter verse describes the pictorial tradition found in the adjoining miniature, it also equally describes the Cynewulf poem.

    It is this connection that makes Cynewulf's poem stand apart from the Gospel accounts and his models. There is one singularly rare feature which is found both in the poem and the hexameter verse: the sadness of the disciples. No other commentators deliberately ignored the Gospels' record of the disciples' return from Bethany in a state of great joy. The contrasts which Cynewulf sets up in his poem account for this emphasis on their sadness and, in turn, for the disappearing image of Christ.29 In fact, we must read the gestures of the disciples as those of grief rather than the traditional joy. The hexameter verse directs us to their depressed and sad minds. The person who wrote these verses was coordinated with whoever decided on the type of Ascension image and they were both familiar with Cynewulf's Christ poem and its emphasis on the fact that the disciples were sad precisely because they could no longer see Christ "under heaven."30

    This distinction between the sky and heaven was quite specific in Pope Gregory's model text and comes through from Cynewulf to the miniature with the sharp contrast between the green clouds of the sky and the heavenly red mass into which Christ steps. Cynewulf went on to say that Christ reappears in glory in heaven and the disciples can see him again then but are still sad because they realize he is not in their sphere anymore. That second vision or reappearance in glory in heaven (above the sky) would fit the traditional Eastern or immobile Ascension which is certainly what, by his description, Cynewulf had in mind.

    The Caligula disappearing Christ is directly referring, as Schapiro said for all these iconographic types, to the pilgrim accounts of the church on Mount Oliveti from Arculf (seventh century).31 Yet it is this manuscript which makes that reference more explicit than any other, since it has the only inscription naming the place and, something unmentioned by Schapiro, the three-part arch referring to Arculf's account of the concentric portico of the building. Of course, it shows a misunderstanding of what that meant architecturally, Arculf's "three roofed circular porticoes" were taken to be a three-arched roofed portico like the more typical Byzantine church porch or early medieval Western facades.32 The Canterbury monks need not have seen, and by their misunderstanding we can infer that they probably did not see, a copy of Arculf's travels, for

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Cynewulf relates all this in his commentary. He even describes this temple building with its opening in the roof for gazing up to heaven as the one experienced by the disciples on the day that Christ disappeared.33 The image thus places the event at the contemporary building site with the medieval pilgrims gazing rip at the sky in an anachronistic way much as the Munich ivory shows the fourth-century Constantinian architecture of Christ's tomb.34 In doing so, the shock and grief of the disciples which Cynewulf relates is echoed by our own dismay at being able to see only the bottom portion of the main subject's body.


1