On 20 September of this year our eagle-eyed friend and former colleague Dr Alixe Bovey drew our attention to that day’s edition of The Sunday Times. In that issue was an article about the latest work by the artist Sir Peter Blake, who is perhaps best known for designing the iconic album cover for the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Sir Peter had created a mural to celebrate the 800th anniversary of the Lord Mayor’s Parade, compiling dozens of images to capture the spirit of the parade across the centuries.
In the earliest years of the parade can be found the familiar figure of our ‘unicorn lady’; can you spot her amongst the crowds? She first made an appearance on 1 April 2012 in our post Unicorn Cookbook Found at the British Library, and now you can see her between the years 1315-1415 and 1514-1515 (click the above image for a larger version). It is a testament to the power of medieval images that they can continue to be reused and remixed today in such interesting ways, and to such astounding effect. We are absolutely thrilled.
Bringing the unicorn to table, from the Unicorn Cookbook
We’ve found a number of other images from British Library manuscripts in Sir Peter’s work, including the dancing nun of the Maastricht Hours (for more on that manuscript, see Monkeying Around with the Maastricht Hours). Please do let us know if you discover any others, either in the comments below or on Twitter @BLMedieval.
You have until 1 November 2015 to run, gallop, canter, fly, swoop or simply walk down to the British Library to catch the brilliant (and free!) Animal Tales exhibition, on display in the Entrance Hall Gallery.
Curated by Matthew Shaw, Alison Bailey and Barbara Hawes, Animal Tales explores the relationship between beasts and humans in works of literature and artistic books: the many ways in which human feelings and thoughts have been projected onto animals, and how the animal kingdom has served as a mirror to human foibles. A full list of exhibits is available on our American Collections blog.
Two items likely to be of interest to readers of this blog are Guillaume Apollinaire’s Le Bestiaire, ou Cortège d’Orphée (1977) and Pablo Neruda’s Bestiary/Bestario (1965). These 20th-century re-imaginings of a medieval genre provide the perfect opportunity for us to look over the British Library’s rich collection of bestiary manuscripts.
Detail of a miniature showing vultures feeding on human carrion, from the Rochester Bestiary, south-eastern England (?Rochester), c. 1230, Royal MS 12 F XIII, f. 50r
When we think of medieval bestiaries, what first comes to mind are richly illuminated manuscripts: for example, the 13th-century Rochester Bestiary (Royal MS 12 F XIII). Some 55 miniatures illustrate passages of text that describe animals and their behaviour, from the lion to vulture (via the elephant, beaver, dromedary and mole). The 13th century was the heyday of the Latin bestiary, and based on the distribution of surviving examples and entries in contemporary book-lists, they were most popular in England.
Detail of a miniature showing elephants, a dragon and a mandrake, from a bestiary, northern France, 2nd or 3rd quarter of the 13th century, Sloane MS 278, f. 48v
Such manuscripts represent the culmination of a very long textual tradition. Bestiaries were primarily based on the Physiologus, a Greek text from Alexandria written between the 2nd and 4th centuries. The Latin translation that followed shortly thereafter provided the basis for the medieval bestiary, along with interpolations from Pliny the Elder’s Historia naturalis and Isidore of Seville’s Etymologiae.
Miniatures of goats and a bull, from a bestiary compiled with other theological texts and medical recipes, northern or central England, 1st quarter of the 13th century, Royal MS 12 C XIX, ff. 31v-32r
In monastic libraries, bestiaries were usually classified along with theological works and shelved with similar materials, such as sermons, penitentials, and lives of saints. The compilation of a bestiary in Royal MS 12 C XIX along with two sermons and extracts from the Bible, the Imago mundi and the Etymologiae further illustrates the context in which contemporary readers encountered this text. This manuscript (omitting the French and Latin recipes at the end) is a direct copy of the Worksop Bestiary (New York, Pierpont Morgan Library, MS M. 81).
Detail of a miniature of Adam naming the animals, with a stag, a lion, a donkey, a rabbit, and a man riding a camel, from the Rochester Bestiary, Royal MS 12 F XIII, f. 34v
While the Physiologus began its life as a treatise structured around the subjects of virtue and vice, the interpolations from other texts gradually changed the bestiary’s form to reflect the organisation of the natural world as described in Genesis. The moralising content remained, however, and many medieval sermons and preaching handbooks contain such material derived from bestiaries. It was as source-books for edifying and instructive stories, complementary to those derived from the Bible or hagiographies, that the bestiaries derived their success and widespread circulation.
Detail of a miniature of moles burrowing underground, from the Rochester Bestiary, Royal MS 12 F XIII, f. 44v
Detail of a miniature of hunters spearing a bonnacon, and protecting themselves from its burning dung with a shield, from a bestiary, with extracts from Giraldus Cambrensis on Irish birds, England (Salisbury), 2nd quarter of the 13th century, Harley MS 4751, f. 11r
As we are sure you are all aware, today is Uncommon Musical Instrument Appreciation Day, the day on which we are urged to take time to think about the rare and unusual instruments that have gone obsolete, or are otherwise beyond our ken. We would like to offer a number of examples in the spirit of this momentous occasion - the familiar, the forgotten and the simply odd. Please be sure to send any other gems you might encounter to us on Twitter @BLMedieval. Without any further ado:
Folio with musical instruments, from a leaf from a giant Bible, Italy, 11th-12th century, Add MS 47683, f. 1v
Detail of a man with bells among musical neumes, from the Gradual of Saint-Etienne of Toulouse, France (Toulouse), last quarter of the 11th-first quarter of the 12th century, Harley MS 4951, f. 299v
Detail of two musicians playing the vielle and a harp or psaltery, from the Worms Bible, Germany (Frankenthal), 2nd-3rd quarter of the 12th century, Harley MS 2804, f. 3v
Detail of a miniature of a rabbit playing a bell-like instrument, from the Rutland Psalter, England (London?), c. 1260, Add MS 62925, f. 54r
Detail of two monkeys playing trumpets in an unusual manner, from the Maastricht Hours, Liège, 1st quarter of the 14th century, Stowe MS 17, f. 61v
Detail of a marginal painting of a rabbit and a dog playing a portative organ, from the Gorleston Psalter, England (Suffolk?), 1310-1324, Add MS 49622, f. 106v
Detail of a marginal painting of a man playing a rabbit-trumpet (despite distractions), from La Queste del Saint Graal, France, c. 1315 - c. 1325, Royal MS 14 E III, f. 89r
Detail of a cat playing a vielle, from a fragmentary Book of Hours, England (London), c. 1320 - c. 1330, Harley MS 6563, f. 40r
Detail of a marginal painting of a monkey playing bagpipes, from the Breviary of Queen Isabella of Castile, Bruges, c. 1497, Add MS 18851, f. 419v
Detail of a marginal painting of bagpipes (?), from the Hours of Joanna the Mad, Bruges, 1486-1506, Add MS 18852, f. 98r
Leonardo da Vinci's drawings, including a mechanical organ and timpani/drums, from the Codex Arundel, Italy (Florence, Milan, and Rome), 1478-1518, Arundel MS 263, f. 136r and 137v
In their new picture book published by the British Library, Medieval Monsters, medieval historian Damien Kempf and art historian Maria L. Gilbert explore the fantastic, grotesque and exuberant world of monsters in the Middle Ages through the images found in illuminated manuscripts, from dragons and demons to Yoda and hybrid creatures. The book has already attracted rave reviews: don't forget that you can buy it from the British Library online shop (£10, ISBN 9780712357906).
In this guest post, Damien and Maria describe ten things you should know about medieval monsters in a whimsical poem à la Edward Lear and Dr. Seuss.
With medieval manuscripts one does find
there lurks a particularly special kind
of creature, lurking in the margin,
religious instruction or pure diversion?
Frightening, charming, sometimes alarming;
monsters are Sin and Damnation,
Seduction, Temptation, Allure, Delectation.
We enter their world, they hold us in thrall
let’s take a look, the Middle Ages call.
1. They may be shy
The big-eared Panotii were a monstrous race;
located on the peripheries—an imaginary place.
Their ears were so large they could serve as blankets
or wings to fly away when overcome with shyness.
* * *
2. They may create a wonderful first impression but beware!
Bird-woman mermaid, alluring siren at sea,
sings so enchantingly there’s no time to plea.
You’re entranced, you’re drawn in. That voice! Those tail swishes!
Next you’re asleep and then: food for the fishes.
* * *
3. They may crave love and tenderness
A horse with a long horn, most fierce and shrewd,
the all powerful unicorn easily eludes
an experienced hunter, but tame it becomes
at the touch of a virgin and completely succumbs.
* * *
4. They may be multi-headed
An end days vision: six heads and ten horns
with multiple crowns, his head is adorned.
Mouth like a lion and feet like a bear
the Beast of the Apocalypse gives quite a scare.
* * *
5. They may be very tempting
Living in the desert, the hermit saint Anthony
besieged by hallucinations seemingly continually.
Facing trial after trial of temptation,
this Christian ascetic retained his concentration.
* * *
6. They may bite off more than they can chew
Margaret of Antioch, thrown into prison
by the prefect Olibrius for being a Christian.
The devil as a dragon visited her there,
swallowed her whole but having said a prayer
she burst out unharmed, a dragon slayer.
* * *
7. They may take your soul on your deathbed if you behave badly
FEATURED: Panotti (British Library Add MS 62925, f. 88v, detail); Siren (Ms. Ludwig XV 3, f. 78, detail, J. Paul Getty Museum); Unicorn (BL Stowe 17, f. 90v, detail); Beast of the Apocalypse (BL Add. 54180, f. 14v, detail); Anthony's demon (Ms. Ludwig XI 8, f. 6v, detail, Getty Museum); Margaret's dragon (Ms. 37, f. 49v, detail, Getty Museum); Soul takers (Ms. 57, f. 194, detail, Getty Museum); John's demon (Ms. Ludwig IX 6, f.13, detail, Getty Museum); Michael and the Devil (BL Add 18851, f. 464, detail); Figure in monk's robes ('Yoda') (Royal 10 E IV, f. 30, detail).
There is a Middle English aphorism that says, ‘Winter all eats / That summer begets’. Living alongside 24-hour supermarkets, it is easy to forget the once vital preoccupation with preserving the autumn harvest and stocking our larders to the brim. As we approach the sign of Aquarius, long nights and short days will persist until mid-March when the sun enters Aries, and we spare a thought for our medieval forebears in the most barren and cold of seasons. Depictions of wintry concerns and activities from the medieval era are frequently featured in the calendars which preface many Books of Hours and Psalters (for a discussion of calendars, see the post from January 2011).
Detail from an October calendar showing the fattening of hogs, from the Breviary of Queen Isabella of Castile, Southern Netherlands (Bruges), c. 1497, Add MS 18851, f. 6r
A February calendar with a bas-de-page scene of men chopping wood and a woman gathering it, from a Book of Hours, Southern Netherlands (Bruges), c. 1500, King’s MS 9, f. 3v
Surviving a medieval winter was the result of forethought and hard labour. The calendar page for October shows two men knocking acorns from trees to fatten their hogs in readiness for winter, while the calendar page for February depicts two men with curved knives cutting wood to be gathered and bundled, in this case, by a woman.
Detail from a February calendar of a man drying his shoe by the fire, from a Psalter, France (Paris), c. 1250, Royal MS 2 B II, f. 1v
A February calendar with roundels showing of a man warming his feet by the fire (top) and the sign of Pisces (below), from a Psalter, England (Oxford), c. 1200–c. 1225, Arundel MS 157, f. 13v
Little agrarian activity could take place in winter and miniatures of Labours of the Month for December, January and February show mostly indoor scenes. The practical discomforts of winter are illustrated in the February calendars of two contemporary Psalters, one made in Oxford and the other in Paris, both showing a man attempting to dry his shoe or warm his feet over the fire.
Detail from a January calendar of warming by the fire and feasting, from a Book of Hours (the ‘Hours of Joanna I of Castile’), Southern Netherlands (Bruges), 1486–1506, Add MS 18852, f. 1v
A January calendar with a bas-de-page scene of feasting by an open fire, from King’s MS 9, f. 2v
The standard activity featured in the January calendar is one of feasting and warming oneself by the fire. These miniatures were produced in Bruges around 1500, and both show men sitting to a rich feast attended by a woman. The dominant ‘humour’ of the winter season was thought to be phlegm, and one contemporary text, the Secretum Secretorum, recommended combatting its injurious effects through a modification of the diet. It prescribes figs, grapes, ‘fine red wine’ and ‘hot meats’ such as mutton or pigeon, while warning that the somewhat odd assortment of laxatives, bloodletting and lovemaking are to be avoided. Overindulgence in general is very bad, according to our source, but better to do so in the winter season when the body’s natural heat is drawn inwards, resulting in good digestion. This is good to know in the season which includes Christmas.
Detail of activities on a frozen river, from Add MS 18852, f. 2r
Detail from a November calendar of a boar being snared, from a Book of Hours, Germany (?Worms), c. 1475–c. 1485, from Egerton MS 1146, f. 12v
Snow sports of many varieties are another feature of January calendars, such as the skating, sledging and ball games taking place on the frozen river above. An activity which combined sport and the acquisition of food was boar-hunting, the principal quarry of noblemen in the winter. Above, a boar is chased through a gallows-like-structure in a snowy landscape, becoming ensnared in the noose and speared by a knight. Another good ‘hot meat’ to combat the phlegm.
Detail of a miniature of a crowned lion as ‘King of Beasts’ in a Book of Hours (‘The Taymouth Hours’), ?England (?London), c. 1325–c. 1350, Yates Thompson MS 13, f. 18r
In light of the recent news that London may be without lions for the first time in 800 years, and with further inspiration from the Royal Beasts exhibition at the Tower of London, we take a turn towards the role of the lion in the medieval imagination.
Visitors to Royal Manuscripts: The Genius of Illumination may remember the lion skull kindly lent to the British Library by the Natural History Museum. This was one of two skulls unearthed at the Tower of London, where King John (d. 1216) had established a Royal Menagerie which was to become home to an assortment of exotic beasts including lions, bears and one short-lived elephant.
Detail of an historiated initial showing the King of England mounted on a lion, from the Bohun Psalter, England (S.E., ?London), 2nd half of the 14th century, Egerton MS 3277, f. 68v
The skulls were radiocarbon dated to 1280–1385 and to 1420–1480, suggesting that these particular lions were the private exhibits of either Edward I, II or III, in the first instance, or of the Lancastrian Henry VI or Yorkist Edward IV, in the second. These ‘Barbary’ lions, hailing from northwest Africa, were doubtless an exciting embodiment of the Royal Arms of England for any English monarch.
Detail of a miniature of crafty method for catching lions (potentially) by placing a goat in one hole and waiting for a lion to fall down the second hole, from a Bestiary, England (?Salisbury), c. 1225–c. 1250, Harley MS 4751, f. 2v
Whether royal mascots or diplomatic gifts, numerous archival records indicate a long history of lions at the tower. Exactly how they came to be at the tower, how they were crated and transported, is unknown, but trapping a lion using the method depicted in the Bestiary above (involving two holes and a tethered goat) would be quite a feat. The earliest noted payments to their keepers came from King John in 1210-1212, with records becoming more detailed under Henry III (d. 1272).
Detail of an historiated initial showing a man being devoured by lions (I Kings 20:36), Egerton MS 3277, f. 104r
In 1240, the sheriffs of London were instructed to make provisions for a lion and a keeper, William de Botton, including 14 shillings for ‘buying chains and other things for the use of the lion’. By 1314, the sheriffs were providing a quarter of mutton every day for the maintenance of numerous lions. The polar bear seems to have had it better in this respect. As part of a cost-saving measure for the City, this (chained) Norwegian captive could at least fish for its own supper on the bank of the Thames.
The keeper’s own wages could be slow to materialise, as experienced by William Bounde who was owed £55 by 1408: he would be imprisoned by his creditors, he claimed, and the lions would go unfed. The office was granted to Robert Manfeld in 1436, who would double up as marshal of the hall within the royal household. Perhaps delegating duties became a challenge since it was in the same year that all of the lions in the tower apparently died. Had he simply fed the sick lions a monkey, as recommended by the Bestiary, they may well have been cured.
Detail of a miniature of lion and his irrational fear of the white rooster, in a Bestiary, England (?Rochester), c. 1230–c. 1300, Royal MS 12 F XIII, f. 5v
The Bestiary describes the power, courage and intelligence of the lion – a fitting emblem of monarchy – who fears nothing save the white rooster, scorpion and snake.
Detail of a miniature of cubs born dead and reanimated by their fathers who breathe life into them, in the Bestiary, England (?North or Central), c. 1200–c. 1210, Royal MS 12 C XIX, f. 6r
When hunted, the Bestiary relates, the lion sweeps his tail over the ground to conceal his tracks; he also sleeps with his eyes open to avoid capture, and he has the ability to resurrect his stillborn cubs. He never attacks women and children, nor the man who prostrates himself before him.
Lions were able to ascertain, by mysterious means, both virginity and royal blood, which is why Josiane was immune to being trapped in a cave with two lions.
Detail of a miniature of Beves of Hampton slaying the two lions pestering Josiane, Yates Thompson 13, f. 12r
Beves of Hampton, by contrast, was forced to employ all his knightly prowess to avoid being devoured alive.
Detail of a miniature of Joanna of Paris embracing a lion, from the ‘Topographia Hiberniae’ of Gerald of Wales, England (?Lincoln), c.1196–1223, Royal MS 13 B VIII, f. 19v
Occasionally, a ‘woman’s tricks’ might be held responsible for encouraging the amorous affections of the lion, as Gerald of Wales reports was the case at the French court of King Philip.
Detail of a column miniature showing Habakkuk (suspended by the hand of God) delivering a jug of stew to Daniel in the lions’ den, from Guyart de Moulins, Bible historiale, France (?Paris), 1357, Royal MS 17 E VII, f. 107v
Detail of an historiated initial 'A' showing Daniel and two lions in the den, from a Bible, England, c. 1250–c. 1275, Royal MS 1 D I, f. 377r
The popular stories associated with biblical heroes Daniel, Samson and David gave frequent cause for lions in manuscript miniatures. Daniel’s benign and friendly companions emphasise his miraculous delivery from the lions’ den.
Marginal drawings of David keeping his sheep safe by grappling with a lion and a dog (above) and fighting Goliath (below), from the Worms Bible, Germany (Frankenthal), c. 1148, Harley MS 2803, f. 126v
Other popular subjects include David – shepherd boy and future king – protecting his sheep from a lion, a prolepsis of his battle with Goliath.
Detail of a miniature of Samson taking a honeycomb from the lion’s body, from the ‘Queen Mary Psalter’, England (?London or East Anglia), between 1310 and 1320, Royal MS 2 B VII, f. 44r
Samson was renowned for possessing the strength to tear apart a lion with his bare hands. The illuminator who executed the Samson miniature chose to depict the moment when Samson revisited the dead lion to find bees nesting in its carcass, allowing him to take honey from the lion’s body.
Detail of an historiated initial containing an Evangelist portrait that represents Mark as a lion, from a Book of Hours, Italy (?Bologna), c. 1390 – c.1400, Add MS 69865, f. 2v
The lion can be seen, more frequently, distinguishing the Gospel of Mark from the other Evangelists (this particular Mark has morphed into a lion-human hybrid).
Detail of an historiated initial showing Jerome and lion, from Jerome, Pseudo-Jerome and others, Epistles and treatises, Italy (?Venice), c. 1390, Egerton MS 3266, f. 8r
Similarly, Saint Jerome can be identified by his red Cardinal’s hat and his attribute, a lion.
Detail of the border of a Calendar page for July, showing Leo and a man harvesting and gathering sheaves of wheat, from a Book of Hours, France (Paris), c. 1410, Egerton MS 1070, f. 9r
In the bestselling devotional books of the Middle Ages, the calendar pages often display a zodiac sign paired with a typical activity for the month. Leo, the sign for July, heralded the harvest and he is frequently juxtaposed with scenes of peasants sharpening sickles or threshing grain.
Detail of Leo as a lion apparently forced into the July calendar by chain, Royal 2 B VII, f. 78r
The lion is often very well portrayed in manuscripts and this may be linked to their popularity as an exhibit in the Tower. The improvements to Matthew Paris’ depictions of elephants, for example, are the result of his journey from St Albans to the Menagerie to draw Henry III’s elephant from life. Looking at the miniature above, you can almost imagine William de Botton with his chains worth 14 shillings, cajoling his captive ...
To learn more about the lions and other exotic creatures, their keepers, and the vanished menagerie that was a distant predecessor of London Zoo, check out the Royal Beasts exhibition at the Tower of London.
Longstanding readers of our Medieval Manuscripts Blog may know that we have a penchant for hedgehogs. In 2012, we published a post entitled The Distinguished Pedigree of Mrs Tiggy-Winkle, based on the accounts of their behaviour in medieval bestiaries. In 2014, we brought you a hedgehog beauty contest, no less, featuring images of five of our favourites. And most recently we focused on the heraldic hedgehog in the 13th-century Dering Roll.
Hedgehogs rolling on the ground to collect grapes for their young, as illustrated in the Rochester Bestiary (England, c. 1230): London, British Library, Royal MS 12 F XIII, f. 45r. Hedgehogs were said to creep into vineyards when the grapes were ripe, to climb the vines and shake the fruit down to the ground. Then, rather than eating this bounty on the spot, they would turn onto their backs and roll around, impaling the grapes with their sharp quills. They could then trundle off back to their burrows, carrying the grapes on their spines, as a meal for their young. The bestiary writers allegorized this as a warning of the clever stratagems of the devil in stealing man's spiritual fruits.
We've now discovered this fantastic animation, based on the drawings of hedgehogs in one of the British Library's medieval bestiaries (Royal MS 12 F XIII, f. 45r). De Herinacio: On the Hedgehog was made by the amazing Obrazki nunu and Discarding Images. We hope that you love it as much as we do! Maybe it will inspire more people to explore and reinvent our wonderful collections.
Roll up and find your 13th-century ancestor in our latest addition to Digitised Manuscripts! Heirs of knights or otherwise, you can now enjoy the 324 painted coat of arms on the ‘Dering Roll’ in minute detail. This beautiful roll of arms gains its name from its 16th-century owner, Sir Edward Dering, first baronet (b. 1598, d. 1644), antiquary and lieutenant of Dover Castle in Kent.
Detail of the 10th, 11th and 12th rows of arms, from the Dering Roll, England (?Dover), c. 1270 – c. 1280, Additional Roll 77720, membrane 1
Not only did Dering accumulate quite the collection of historical documents relating both to Kent and to his ancestors, but he also set up an association called ‘Antiquitas Rediviva’ to collect ‘all memorable notes for historicall illustration of this kingdome’. This impulse wasn’t always kept separate from what might be termed ‘historicall embellishment’, as witnessed by the odd occasion when Dering adjusted names on items in his collection in order to support his claims for the antiquity of his family.
A fine example of this occurs on shield no. 61 where both the original arms and name of ‘Nicole de Criel’ have been erased. Nicholas de Criol’s shield was divided horizontally with red paint applied to the lower half, some of which is still visible behind the saltire cross of Sir Edward’s ancestor ‘Ric fiz Dering’. The scribe making the adjustment (presumably Dering himself) has gone to some effort to maintain as much of the original lettering as possible: ‘Nic’ is easily transformed into ‘Ric’ with a cross stroke, ‘o’ is simply expunged, and the ‘l’ in ‘Nicole’ provides a ready-made ascender for the ‘f’ in ‘fiz’. Even the ‘ri’ are recycled from ‘Criel’ to ‘Dering’. Sadly for Sir Nicholas and his own historical record, his name provided a convenient target for Sir Edward who could incorporate six letters written by the original scribe with six new ones, in an attempt seamlessly to blend past and present concerns.
Detail of the fourth and fifth rows of arms on the second membrane, from Add Roll 77720
In designing a new coat of arms, it was (and still is) necessary for it to be distinct from others already in existence, and it was especially useful if it brought to mind the name of the bearer. Puns provide a helping hand, especially if they are of a simple visual kind, and the Dering Roll can be seen to boast a fine line in pictograms. Shield no. 105 (Azure crusily and six herrings or) belonged to William Heringaud (d. 1326). The use of herrings (Ofr. harenc) is what is known as a ‘canting device’, where the word chosen enunciates the name. Similarly, shield no. 112 shows three hands (Ofr. mains) and this design belonged to Nicholas Malmains (d. 1292).
Detail of the third to sixth rows of arms on the fourth membrane, from Add Roll 77720
In this short section of roll we have the designs for Nicholas le Lou (Ofr. leu, lou ‘wolf’), Henry de Herice (Ofr. heriҫon ‘hedgehog’), Nicholas de la Heuse (Ofr. hose, huese, heuse ‘men’s hose’), and Henry de Cockington, each appropriately represented by two wolves, three hedgehogs, three stockings and nine cocks, respectively.
Detail of the arms of Fulk FitzWaryn (d. 1315) from Add Roll 77720, membrane 4
Literary historians might be interested in shield no. 271, belonging to Fulk FitzWarin of Whittington (d. 1315). This name will be familiar to readers of the anonymous Anglo-Norman romance Fouke le Fitz Waryn, a fictionalised family history from the Conquest to this Fulk’s grandfather (d. c. 1256). The narrative is based on a verse original of c. 1280 but survives in an Anglo-Norman prose version of c. 1330, now Royal MS 12 C XII, ff. 33–61. The fantastical elements in this family chronicle – Fouke’s fights with Swedish dragons and Irish giants – are balanced by the genealogical concerns of marriage and birth: the prestige of a folkloric heroism meets a more practical purpose in supporting the family’s claims to inherited lands. This impulse for validation recalls Edward Dering’s adjustments to the roll more than three centuries later.
Heraldic punning is not forgotten here either. The chronicle-romance provides a technical description of the FitzWarin coat as: un escu quartilee de goules e d’argent endentee; the pun dentz aguz or ‘sharp teeth’ alludes to the indented line in these arms. This particular pun is rather subtle, relying on knowledge of heraldic designs and their associated terms. Much more common, in fact, are the simple pictograms such as the herrings, hedgehogs and hosiery shown above.
Detail of the first three rows of arms, from Add Roll 77720, membrane 1
The reign of Edward I (1272–1307) is seen as the golden age for the production of rolls of arms in England and these documents were designed for the identification of knights in battle and in tournaments. The Dering Roll is the earliest extant roll of arms from this period, dating from c. 1270 – c. 1280, and it accounts for an astonishing one-quarter of the entire English baronage of this time. The 324 painted shields stretch over two and a half metres of vellum and this long list of England’s movers and shakers begins with King John’s illegitimate son, Richard FitzRoy of Kent (d. bef. 1253). More interesting, perhaps, is the prominence given to Stephen of Penchester (shield no. 6) who served as constable of Dover Castle from 1268 until his death in 1298. Indeed, knights of Kent and Sussex dominate and it has been argued that the Dering Roll was designed to supply a list of knights owing feudal service to the Constable of Dover Castle. This has led to the suggestion that Penchester commissioned the Dering Roll, given the coincidence of its dating with his tenure in office.
We hope to learn much more about this fascinating roll now that it is available for detailed scrutiny by scholars, genealogists and members of the public alike. Following its sale at Sotheby’s in late 2007, an export licence was blocked and a fundraising campaign led to its purchase by the British Library. We are grateful for the generous aid received from the National Heritage Memorial Fund, The Art Fund, Friends of the British Library, Friends of the National Libraries and from numerous individual supporters, all of whom helped to save this treasure for the nation.