We recently announced that the magnificent gospelbook commissioned by Tsar Ivan Alexander, British Library Additional MS 36927, is available in full on our Digitised Manuscripts site. Readers of this blog may also be interested to learn that a video describing this manuscript's history is also now available on YouTube. "Portrait of a Masterpiece" is narrated by manuscript expert Ekaterina Dimitrova, and includes footage shot at the British Library, including an interview with Dr Scot McKendrick, Head of History and Classics.

Royal portraits: f. 2v: Constantine, the son-in-law of Ivan Alexander, flanked by three daughters of the tsar: Kerathamar (Constantine's wife), Keratsa and Desislava; f. 3r: Ivan Alexander in imperial garb, accompanied by his wife Theodora, his son Ivan Shishnan in imperial garb, and another son Ivan Asen. Above, two hands emerge from a cloud, making gestures of blessing over the Tsar and his wife, from the Gospels of Ivan Alexander, Bulgaria, 1355-1356, Add MS 39627, ff. 2v-3r

The manuscript can also currently be viewed by visitors to the British Library, in The Sir John Ritblat Gallery: Treasures of the British Library. Meanwhile, we are grateful to Ekaterina Dimitrova for sharing this video with us. We hope that you too can join us in our mutual affection for this wonderful book.

Detail of a miniature of Richard III (b. 1452, d. 1485); from the Biblical and genealogical chronicle from Adam and Eve to Edward VI, England (London or Westminster), c. 1511, with additions before 1557, King's MS 395, f. 33r

By this point, you have probably heard the big news out of Leicester: the skeleton found in the Greyfriars car park is indeed that of Richard III.  It is not very often that the world of medieval studies enjoys the thrill of 'breaking news'.  Of course, as has been well reported, it is not precisely news that Richard was buried in Leicester.  Those of us who were standing by to hear from the University of Leicester team can remember that it was not journalists but chroniclers who got the scoop. To name one example, a genealogical chronicle of the Tudor period includes Richard in the illustrated tree of succession, with the explanatory note: 'Richard that was sonne to Richard Dewke of Yorke & brother unto Kyng Edward the iiii^th, was kyng after hys brother & raynyd ii yeres & lyth buryd at Lecitor [lies buried at Leicester]'.  A statement we now know is true!

A tangled line of succession, culminating in (on the lower page, in roundels marked with coats of arms)  Edward IV, Richard III, and Henry VII; from the Biblical and genealogical chronicle from Adam and Eve to Edward VI, England (London or Westminster), c. 1511, with additions before 1557, King's MS 395, ff. 32v-33r

This genealogy handles Richard's demise and the subsequent succession in a way usual for medieval family trees: it visually erases the discontinuity.  Richard was killed in battle against the forces of his rival, Henry Tudor (Henry VII).  But here we see no great divide between the Plantagenet and Tudor dynasties.  Rather, Henry VII sits directly under Richard on the family tree, his lines of descent snaking up to join the main tree some generations in the past.

Detail of the genealogy of Edward IV, on (below) trees sprouting from Edward I (right) and Peter of Castile (left), and including the severing of Richard II from the tree by a sword-wielding Henry IV (center); from the typological life and genealogy of Edward IV, England, 1460-c. 1470, Harley MS 7353

This is perhaps not surprising in a document originating during the reign of Henry's own grandson, Edward VI.  But at least one genealogy takes a different approach to the death and deposition of another Richard, King Richard II.  Richard II was overthrown by Henry IV, the first of England's Lancastrian kings, whose grandson Henry VI was, in turn, overthrown by Edward IV to restore Yorkist rule.  For this manuscript made during Edward's reign, therefore, Richard II would have been the rightful king unjustly deposed by a usurper.  And in this image, we can see the cutting of the line of succession made literal by a sword-wielding Henry IV, the violence of the dynastic discontinuity perhaps also suggesting violence against Richard II's own person – he died while in Edward's custody.

The autograph of Richard III (as Duke of Gloucester, before 1483); from Chroniques de France ou St Denis, France (Paris), last quarter of the 14th century, after 1380, Royal MS 20 C. vii, f. 134r

While Richard III's untimely end is one of the most colourful aspects of his story, it is also possible to reach out to the living king.  Richard owned a number of books during his life, a few of which still survive today, some in the British Library.  We know from signatures contained in its pages that Richard owned a copy of the French romance Tristan – a delightful tale of love and adventure.  And another book, on the 'Dedes of Knyghthode', holds the coats of arms both of Richard (as king of England) and of his wife, Anne Neville.  This volume was perhaps made for their young son Edward, who predeceased his father in 1484.  When we look at these books, they help bring back to life the hands that held them, a controversial monarch at a turbulent period in England's past.

Initial 'H'(ere) of the arms of Richard III; from Vegetius, De re militari (The Book of Vegecy of Dedes of Knyghthode), England (London?), c. 1483-1485, Royal MS 18 A. ii, f. 1r

Nicole Eddy

Detail of a miniature of King Garamantes, being rescued by his dogs; from the Rochester Bestiary, England (Rochester?), c. 1230, Royal MS 12 F. xiii, f. 30v

Recently we examined cats in medieval manuscripts.  But what about man's best friend, the dog?  Dogs were, then as now, renowned for their loyalty.  Medieval tomb effigies sometimes included a dog resting at the feat of the deceased, indicating the loyalty of the dead man himself, a faithful retainer to his lord.

Miniatures of a sheepdog, a hunting dog in pursuit of a stag, a hunting dog in pursuit of a hare, and (bottom) the story of the dog mourning by the body of his murdered master and identifying the killer; from a bestiary, England, 2nd or 3rd quarter of the 13th century (after 1236), Harley MS 3244, f. 45r

This quality of loyalty works its way into many of the stories told about dogs in bestiaries.  A king named Garamantes was once captured by his enemies.  He was freed, however, when his hundreds of dogs spontaneously charged, attacking the men who held him prisoner, and leading him back to safety.  In another story, a man was murdered by his enemy.  His faithful dog was inconsolable, and stood beside the corpse, howling and drawing a crowd of onlookers.  When the murderer saw this crowd gathering, he thought to allay suspicion by mingling with the throng.  But the dog was not fooled.  He attacked the murderer, biting him and continuing to howl in mourning.  Faced with such a clear accusation, the murderer confessed.

Detail of a miniature of Sir Lancelot, in conversation with a lady holding a small dog on her lap; from Morte Artu, France (St Omer or Tournai?), c. 1315-1325, Royal MS 14 E. iii, f. 146r

Dogs in medieval manuscripts are most often hunting hounds, chasing down hares, or dogs fierce in defence of their masters.  But lap dogs also appear in medieval texts: small, aristocratic animals who were the companions of fashionable ladies.  Sir Tristan, so the story goes, sailed to France, where the king's daughter fell in love with him.  But Tristan was already in love with Isolde, the wife of his uncle King Mark, and refused the princess's advances.  She sent to him love letters, though, as well as a small dog, named Husdent.  While the affair with the French princess was one-sided and short-lived, Husdent himself would go on to become an important part of Tristan's story.  Devastated that he could not be with the married Isolde, Tristan lost his senses and ran into the forest to live as a wild man.  On returning to civilization some time later, he was so altered from his ordeal that Isolde did not recognize him.  But the faithful Husdent immediately knew his master, and Tristan's true identity was revealed.

Miniature of the personification of Gluttony, riding on the back of a wolf; from the Dunois Hours, France (Paris), c. 1440-c. 1450 (after 1436), Yates Thompson MS 3, f. 168v

Man's faithful companion also had a more wild and threatening counterpart. If dogs were symbols of loyalty, wolves were personifications of greed.  Isidore of Seville observed, correctly, that the Latin word for wolf (lupus) gave rise to a slang term for prostitute (lupa).  These women were said to be greedy for financial gain, and so were termed 'she-wolves'.

A she-wolf from mythology: detail of a miniature of (foreground) two men digging a grave for the Rhea Silvia, the princess and Vestal Virgin sentenced to death for bearing Romulus and Remus, the twin sons of the god Mars, who are shown behind with the she-wolf (lupa) that raised them after their usurping great-uncle cast them out to die; from a French translation of Giovanni Boccacio, De claribus mulieribus, France (Rouen), c. 1440, Royal MS 16 G. v, f. 55r

Just as dogs were shown as helpful working animals, the protectors of the flock, wolves were the greedy thieves who ran off with the sheep.  But a wolf needed to be careful lest he be caught in the act, since he shared one of his cousin's major weaknesses: dog breath.  The smelly breath of a wolf could, the bestiaries claimed, give him away as he crept up on his prey, alerting the watching sheepdogs.  A canny wolf would plan for this, however, and always approach a flock from downwind. 

Detail of a miniature of a wolf, sneaking up on sheep from downwind; from a bestiary, England, c. 1200-c. 1210, Royal MS 12 C. xix, f. 19r

Nicole Eddy

For more details on calendar pages or the Golf Book, please see the post for January 2013.

 

Calendar page for February with a feasting scene, from the Golf Book (Book of Hours, Use of Rome), workshop of Simon Bening, Netherlands (Bruges), c. 1540, Additional MS 24098, f. 19v

The opening full-page miniature for February (above) shows a continuation of the winter 'labour' of feasting, albeit in a much more lavish setting than is typical of such calendar scenes.  In this miniature, a lord and lady are being served at table in a richly-appointed room; they are surrounded by attendants and are being entertained by a troop of musicians who are accompanied by a rather mischievous-looking jester. In the bas-de-page, a group of men in grisaille are playing at hoop rolling.  On the following folio (below) can be found the saints' days for February and the zodiac sign of Pisces, while the hoop games continue.  The games on this folio seem slightly more complicated and acrobatic than the previous (although we are not certain that 'acrobatic' is the best adjective for what the two gentlemen on the right appear to be doing; as always, any suggestions or comments are most welcome!).

 

Calendar page for February with a bas-de-page scene of men playing at hoop-rolling, from the Golf Book (Book of Hours, Use of Rome), workshop of Simon Bening, Netherlands (Bruges), c. 1540, Additional MS 24098, f. 20r