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162 posts categorized "Early modern"

11 August 2020

Jewels make the Virgin Queen

Queen Elizabeth I (r. 1558–1603) amassed an extraordinary collection of objects made from and decorated with gold, silver and precious stones, as demonstrated by two inventories that were drawn up during her lifetime. Aside from the regalia that she inherited from her predecessors — such as the imperial crown, sceptre and orb — she received many personalised jewels from her courtiers at the customary presentation of gifts to the queen on New Year’s Day. Very few of these precious objects survive today: her successors James I and Charles I sold or donated her jewels, while the regalia were destroyed after the abolition of the monarchy in 1649.

Luckily, the inventories (Stowe MS 555 and Stowe MS 556) give us detailed descriptions of the more than 1.500 items that were kept in the Jewel House at the Tower of London. These suggest that Elizabeth surrounded herself with objects and imagery that celebrated female leadership and virtue, supporting her unusual position of being only England’s second ruling queen and the first who chose to remain unmarried: a controversial choice since queens were expected to marry in order to create political allegiances, to acquire a husband to handle military affairs, and to produce offspring.

A portrait of a woman, representing Queen Elizabeth I, wearing a yellow dress, and a golden crown and necklace with gemstones in different colours

A portrait of Queen Elizabeth I wearing various jewels (northern England, 2nd half of the 16th century): Egerton MS 2572, f. 11r

One of the very few items from the inventories that survives today is the so-called ‘Royal Gold Cup’. The cup is covered in gold, adorned with pearls, and enamelled with scenes from the life of St Agnes, an early Christian who was martyred during the Roman persecution. It was made for the French royal family at the end of the 14th century, but was in the possession of the Tudor monarchy by 1521. As a Protestant, Elizabeth opposed the cult of saints, but the life of St Agnes may have resonated with her on a secular level: like Elizabeth, Agnes rejected a range of suitors and committed herself to a life of virginity.

An excerpt from the inventory of Queen Elizabeth’s jewels in 1596, featuring writing in a 16th-century cursive script written in brown ink

The Royal Gold Cup described in the Inventory of Jewels [‘a cuppe of golde with Imagerye’] (London, 1596): Stowe MS 556, f. 10r

A view of the cover of the Royal Gold Cup showing St Agnes in a red dress, accompanied by her foster-sister Saint Emerentiana in a blue dress, being offered a casket of jewels by her suitor Procopius in blue and red clothes

St Agnes, accompanied by her foster-sister St Emerentiana, rejecting a casket of jewels from her suitor Procopius on the cover of the Royal Gold Cup, London, British Museum (image by Fæ / Wikimedia Commons / CC-BY-SA-3.0)

Elizabeth may have used jewels made from the horn of the unicorn (in reality, narwhal tusk or walrus ivory) to celebrate her unmarried status. The popular belief that the mythical creature could only be captured by a virgin may have made its horn a particularly useful symbol for Elizabeth to reinforce her status as ‘Virgin Queen’. We recently mentioned that she owned a drinking cup made from unicorn’s horn, but our inventories show that she possessed much greater quantities of it. They itemize an unadorned piece of unicorn’s horn (‘pece of unicornes horne not garnished’), a staff from unicorn’s horn featuring a silver-gilt cross with a round crystal (‘Staffe of unycornes horne with a Crosse garnished with silver guylte and a rounde Chyrstall’), and another staff that was made from unicorn’s horn (or bone), adorned with silver, and featuring Elizabeth’s coat of arms.

An excerpt from the inventory of Queen Elizabeth’s jewels in 1596, featuring writing in a 16th-century cursive script written in brown ink

A unicorn staff [‘one verge of bone or unycorne [...] with the Quenes Armes’] in the Inventory of Jewels (London, 1596): Stowe MS 556, f. 33v

Elizabeth’s jewels suggest that she associated herself with Lucretia, a noblewoman from ancient Rome who committed suicide after she had been raped by an Etruscan prince. During the Middle Ages, Lucretia was cited as a paragon of female virtue by authors such as Giovanni Boccaccio (1313–1375) in his De claris mulieribus (Concerning Famous Women), Cristine de Pizan (1364– c.1430) in her Le Livre de la Cité des Dames (The Book of the City of Ladies), and Geoffrey Chaucer (c. 1340–1400) in his Legend of Good Women. Elizabeth owned a ewer engraved with an image of ‘Lucrece kylling herself’, two gilt cups with her image, and a wooden cup which may have depicted her suicide, since it is described as having ‘a woman holding a dagger two edged in her handes’.

Two panels showing scenes from the life of Lucretia. On the left, Lucretia lies in bed while her arm is being held by an Etruscan prince who raises a sword at her. On the right, Lucretia commits suicide with a sword in front of her husband and father

The rape and suicide of Lucretia (? Paris, 1473–c. 1480): Harley MS 4374/4, f. 210r

Other jewels supported Elizabeth’s status as England’s sole leader through images of virgin goddesses from Classical mythology. For example, the inventories describe a salt vessel (‘Saulte’) that was shaped like a golden globe and was held up by two figures representing the Roman god Jupiter and his daughter Minerva. Elizabeth received it on New Year's Day 1583/4 from Francis Drake (1540–1596), who presented her with many gifts he had raided from Spanish and Portuguese ships. While the globe symbolises England’s imperial aspirations, Minerva, Roman virgin goddess of warfare and defender of the state, was strongly associated with Elizabeth, who was likened by her contemporaries  to a ‘new Minerva’.

An excerpt from the inventory of Queen Elizabeth’s jewels in 1596, featuring writing in a 16th-century cursive script written in brown ink

Francis Drake’s ‘Saulte of golde like a Globe standinge uppon [...] Jupiter and Pallas’, in the inventory of Elizabeth’s jewels (London, 1596): Stowe MS 556, f. 23r

Among the inventories, we find one jewel that seems to reflect on Elizabeth’s leadership in a bold and humorous way. It is a dish described as having an engraving of a ‘woman syttinge uppon a man holdinge a whippe in her righte hande and holdinge his heade in her lefte hande’. This unmistakably represents the late medieval tale of Phyllis and Aristotle. The story tells that after Alexander the Great took Phyllis as his wife, he became distracted from state affairs. His mind was turned back to his kingdom and away from his wife when the Greek philosopher Aristotle remonstrated with him. When Phyllis learned the cause of her husband’s changed attitude, she decided to take revenge: she seduced Aristotle and, after he begged her to requite his love, she agreed to do so on condition that he first allowed her to ride upon his back like a horse. The story of Phyllis and Aristotle was part of a ‘Power of Women’ trope in late medieval and early modern art and literature that reflected anxieties over women’s dominance over men. But for Elizabeth it may have been an example of succesful female governance and therefore fitted in well with the rest of her collection.

A woman (Phyllis) in a red robe using a whip with her left hand and pulling reins with her right hand to control the movements of a bearded man in a grey robe and with a green hat, on whose back she is sitting

Phyllis sitting on Aristotle’s back (Metz, 1302–1303): Yates Thompson MS 8, f. 187r

Elizabeth’s jewels played an important role in how she represented herself to the outside world and was perceived by others. Our inventories suggest that her courtiers were aware of their function and carefully selected jewels or had ones made that emphasised her identification with illustrious women and virgin goddesses. These strategically designed jewels were powerful symbols that helped Elizabeth promote the idea of single leadership in England by an unmarried woman.

From golden toothpicks to drinking vessels made from griffin’s eggs, you can now study the newly digitised versions of Stowe MS 555 and Stowe MS 556 on our Digitised Manuscripts website.

21 July 2020

Defender of the Faith

On 11 October 1521, Pope Leo X (b. 1475, d. 1521) conferred on King Henry VIII of England (r. 1509–1547) the title Fidei defensor or ‘Defender of the Faith’. Pope Leo made his declaration in a papal bull (a decree or charter issued by a pope), the original of which survives as Cotton MS Vitellius B IV/1. This important document has been recently digitised and it can now be viewed online on our Digitised Manuscripts site.

The papal bull of Pope Leo X conferring the title Fidei defensor on Henry VIII, significantly damaged in the Cotton Fire of 1731.

The papal bull of Pope Leo X conferring the title Fidei defensor (Defender of the Faith) on King Henry VIII: Cotton MS Vitellius B IV/1

 

Henry was given the title Defender of the Faith in recognition for his Assertio Septem Sacramentorum (Defence of the Seven Sacraments). Possibly written in consultation with Thomas More (b. 1478, d. 1535) and Cardinal Wolsey (b. c. 1473, d. 1530), Henry’s principal statesmen at this point in his reign, this theological treatise acted as a response to the pronouncements of the German theologian Martin Luther (b. 1483, d. 1546), whose ideas helped to shape the Protestant Reformation movement during the 16th century.

Luther had authored three major reforming pamphlets in 1520, including one particularly incendiary text entitled De Captivitate Babylonica Ecclesiae (On the Babylon Captivity of the Church) which challenged some of the major doctrines of the Catholic Church and the authority of the Pope in Rome. The texts circulated widely, including at the English court, and played a significant role in Luther’s excommunication by Pope Leo in the following year.

An opening from a printed copy of a pamphlet by Martin Luther, featuring the beginning of the text of the treatise and a portrait of Luther in a monk’s habit.

The opening of a printed copy of Martin Luther’s pamphlet On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church, facing a portrait of the German theologian: British Library, 697.h.21, sig aii.

 

Henry’s treatise was intended as a defence of the Church and the supremacy of the Papacy from Luther’s ideas and writings, and the English king did not hold back in his condemnation of the German theologian. In the course of the work, he called Luther a ‘serpens…venenatus’ (venomous serpent), a ‘pestis… perniciosa’ (pernicious disease), an ‘inferorum lupus’ (wolf of Hell), the ‘diaboli membrum’ (devil’s member), and a ‘detestabilis arrogantiae, contumeliae, ac schismatis buccinator’ (a detestable trumpeter of pride, abuses, and schism). Henry even compared Martin Luther to Cerberus, the three-headed dog that guarded the Underworld in Classical mythology.

The Assertio was published in mid-July 1521, but was only made available and distributed after it had been first presented to the Pope by John Clerk (b. 1481/2, d. 1541), Bishop of Bath and Wells, in a ceremony on 2 October 1521. The text also contained a letter from Henry dedicating the work to the Pope. Following its presentation in Rome, it was circulated throughout Europe and went on to become a major best-seller, running to over a dozen editions in German and Latin by the end of 1524. It even earned the attention of Luther himself, who wrote a reply in the form of a book entitled Contra Henricum Regem Anglie (Against Henry, King of the English). The British Library is now home to a number of surviving editions of the printed text of Henry’s Assertio. The title-page of one of these copies features a decorative border based on a design by the portrait artist and printmaker Hans Holbein (b. c. 1497, d. 1543).

The title page of a printed edition of Henry VIII’s Assertio septem sacramentum, featuring an elaborate decorative border based on a design by Hans Holbein.

The title page of a printed edition of Henry VIII’s Assertio septem sacramentum: British Library, 9.a.9.

 

Pope Leo was evidently pleased with the work. It was only a few weeks after its presentation that he issued the papal bull conferring on Henry the title Defender of the Faith. The language of the bull was particularly glowing in its praise of the English king, with the Pope declaring that:

Et profecto, huius tituli excellentia & dignitate ac singularibus meritis tuis diligenter perpensis & confideratis, nullum neque dignius neque Majestati tuae convenientius nomen excogitare potuissemus, quod quotiens audiens aut leges, totiens propriae virtutis optimique meriti tui recordaberis.

Having thus weighed and diligently considered your singular merits, we could not have devised a more suitable name, nor one more worthy of your Majesty than this most excellent title, which whenever you hear or read it, you shall remember your own virtues and highest merits.

The bull was then sent to the English court. By the 17th century, it had become part of the library of Sir Robert Cotton (b. 1570/1, d. 1631). Unfortunately, the parchment leaf suffered significant damage in the Ashburnham House fire of 1731, which accounts for its current fragmentary state. Nevertheless, much of its text remains visible, as well as the signatures of the Pope and his cardinals that appear at the foot of the document, each marked with a small cross.

Details from the papal bull of Pope Leo X conferring on King Henry VIII the title Defender of the Faith, damaged by fire in 1731, showing the signatures of the Pope and his cardinals.

The signatures of Pope Leo X and his cardinals inscribed on the papal bull conferring on King Henry VIII the title Defender of the Faith: Cotton MS Vitellius B IV/1, detail

 

Henry’s positive relationship with the Papacy did not last. Only a decade after Leo X issued the papal bull, Henry decided to break away from the Church of Rome, following Pope Clement VII’s refusal to annul his marriage to his first wife Catherine of Aragon (b. 1485, d. 1536). He also distanced himself from the Assertio, claiming that he had been manoeuvred into writing it by his bishops. His actions ultimately resulted in his own excommunication by Clement’s successor Paul III (b. 1468, d. 1549) in 1538 and he was stripped of the title Defender of the Faith.

However, towards the end of Henry’s reign, in 1543, the English Parliament passed an act that restored the title for him and his successors. Since then, it has continued to be used as part of the styling of British monarchs (including the reigning Elizabeth II) to indicate their role as Head of the Church of England. It even features on coins of the realm, with the Latin Fidei defensor appearing in its abbreviated form F.D beside the Queen’s portrait.

 

Calum Cockburn

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09 July 2020

Shakespeare's only surviving playscript now online

One of the most iconic literary manuscripts by one of the world's most famous playwrights, William Shakespeare (1564–1616), can now be viewed in full online on the British Library's Digitised Manuscripts site.

The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore does not immediately spring to mind as among Shakespeare's masterpieces. This late 16th or early 17th-century play is not always included among the Shakespearean canon, and it was not until the 1800s that it was even associated with the Bard of Avon. So what is the connection with William Shakespeare, the author of the more distinguished Hamlet, Macbeth and Romeo and Juliet?

A page of The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore, arguably in Shakespeare's handwriting

In 1871, William Shakespeare's handwriting was identified on this page of The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore: Harley MS 7368, f. 9r

A clue is presented by the handwriting of the surviving manuscript (Harley MS 7368). There are 22 leaves in question, 13 of which are original, 7 are inserted leaves, and 2 are pasted slips. What is immediately apparent is that Thomas Moore was the work of several dramatists. The primary hand is that of Anthony Munday (d. 1633), and he was possibly assisted by the printer, Henry Chettle (d. 1603–07), with further contributions by Thomas Dekker (d. 1632), and perhaps by Thomas Heywood (d. 1641). The handwriting of yet another scribe in the manuscript, known by scholars as the unspectacularly named 'Hand D', is possibly none other than Shakespeare himself. Finally, the manuscript is known to have been censored in turn by Edmund Tilney (d. 1610), Master of the Revels.

The division of the handwriting can be set out as follows. 'Hand D' (probably Shakespeare) contributed an addition on ff. 8r–9v, supplying lines 1–165 of Scene 6. 

  • ‘Hand S’: Anthony Munday
  • ‘Hand A’: probably Henry Chettle
  • ‘Hand B’: probably Thomas Heywood
  • ‘Hand C’: an unidentified professional scribe
  • ‘Hand D’: probably William Shakespeare
  • ‘Hand E’: probably Thomas Dekker

It was not at all unusual for early modern dramatists to collaborate in this way. William Shakespeare is known to have written in partnership with John Fletcher (d. 1625) and others, and it would have been logical for Munday to have turned to his fellow playwrights to advise and assist him when revising his play about Sir Thomas More (1478–1535), the early Tudor Lord Chancellor, humanist and martyr. What is exceptional here, of course, is that Harley MS 7368 is the only identifiable example of Shakespeare's contribution to a playscript surviving in manuscript. None of his other plays have been transmitted to us in this way. What is more, in these pages we can perhaps see the master playwright at work, musing, composing and correcting his text: a window into Shakespeare's dramatic art, as it were. 

Shakespeares-handwriting-in-The- harley_ms_7368_f008v

Another page from Shakespeare's probable contribution to The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore: Harley MS 7368, f. 8v

There is a remarkable sub-text to William Shakespeare's contribution to Thomas Moore. Andrew Dickson, in an article ('Wretched Strangers') for the British Library's Discovering Literature site, has noted how William Shakespeare was presumably called upon by Munday to write the most emotional passage in the play, known as the 'insurrection scene'. Drawing upon events in 1517, when rioting Londoners demanded that immigrants be expelled from England, Shakespeare portrayed Sir Thomas More, as mayor of London, pleading with the crowd to accept the asylum seekers.

Imagine that you see the wretched strangers,

Their babies at their backs, with their poor luggage,

Plodding to th’ ports and coasts for transportation,

And that you sit as kings in your desires,

Authority quite silenced by your brawl ... 

This was all the more remarkable when one realises that similar xenophobic riots had occurred in London in the 1590s and 1600s. Was Shakespeare making a case in The Book of Thomas Moore for racial tolerance? By putting words into Thomas More's mouth, was he making a barbed attack upon the prejudice of his own day?

The Book of Thomas Moore was probably never performed in the time of its authors. The Elizabethan censor, Edmund Tilney, took serious dislike to the playscript, and it seems to have been banned from public performance. The manuscript instead passed into the Harley library and was then sold to the British nation in 1753; it might have remained in oblivion were it not that Shakespeare's style, and hence his own handwriting, was first recognised in the 'insurrection scene' in 1871. The playscript is now extraordinarily brittle, and it is difficult to put on display; but we are delighted to be able to make it available online for everyone to read and enjoy, and for you to determine for yourselves if was indeed William Shakespeare who wrote these lines, in his very own hand. You can gaze in wonder at it on our Digitised Manuscripts site.

 

Julian Harrison

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04 July 2020

Our latest list of digitised manuscripts

Long-term readers of our Blog may know that we periodically publish lists of our digitised manuscripts, the last of which was published in January 2020. With the arrival of summer, we are releasing a new update to our lists of manuscript hyperlinks. We hope this makes it easier for you to explore our amazing digitised treasures online.

A detail from a 13th-century Book of Hours, showing an historiated initial of a man watching the sunrise from an open doorway.

An historiated initial 'D'(eus) with a man watching the sunrise, from a Book of Hours, c. 1260-70 (England, Oxford or West Midlands?): Egerton MS 1151, f. 38r (detail)

There are now over 3,600 Ancient, Medieval and Early Modern manuscripts on the British Library's Digitised Manuscripts website. Here is a full list of all the items currently available, as of July 2020:

PDF:  Download Full-list-digitised-mss-jun-2020

Excel: Download Full-list-digitised-mss-jun-2020 (this format cannot be downloaded on all web browsers).

A page from the Prayer-book of Archbishop Arnulph II of Milan, featuring an illustration of St Michael impaling a dragon and pulling a soul from its mouth.

St Michael the Archangel defeats the dragon and rescues a soul from its mouth, from the Prayer-book of Archbishop Arnulph II of Milan (998–1018): Egerton MS 3763, f. 104v

During this period of Covid-19 lockdown, the Library's Ancient, Medieval and Early Modern team has been busy as ever, working to make more manuscripts available online. All the images included in this blogpost are from manuscripts that we have digitised since January 2020. Here is a list of our most recent additions published over the last 6 months:

PDF: Download Digitised_mss_jan2020_june_2020

Excel: Download Digitised_mss_jan2020_june_2020

A fragment of a papyrus made in the 2nd century BC, featuring a petition in Ancient Greek from a group of soldiers complaining about low pay.

A petition of soldiers, complaining to their commander about pay (Diospolis Parva (Hiou), Egypt, 169–168 BC): Papyrus 638, f. 1r

A 16th-century print of the Colosseum in Rome, featuring a cross-section of the oval amphitheatre, with a winged figure in the clouds holding a banner with a Latin inscription.

A print of the Colosseum in Rome from the Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae (Italy, 1538): Cotton MS Augustus III/2, f. 53r

You can also read about some of the most significant items that have been published online in the following blogposts:

Many images of our manuscripts are also available to download from our Catalogue of Illuminated Manuscripts which is searchable by keywords, dates, scribes and languages.

A page from a 15th-century manuscript of Statius’ Thebais and Achilleis, featuring an illustration of the arrival of Ulysses and Diomedes at Scyros, with decorated borders and an initial with ivy leaves in gold, red and blue.

The arrival of Ulysses and Diomedes at Scyros, from an illustrated manuscript of Statius’ Thebais and Achilleis (Paris, 1st quarter of the 15th century): Burney MS 257, f. 239v

We hope you enjoy exploring our digitised manuscripts!

 

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11 June 2020

Did Henry VIII believe in unicorns?

Did King Henry VIII believe in unicorns? That is perhaps the conclusion to be drawn from a manuscript that reveals intimate details of the final years of Henry's life (1481–1547). We also learn from the same manuscript that he was partial to dragon's blood, and that he prescribed a cure for his fourth wife's ‘colde and wyndie causses’.

Henry suffered from poor health in his later years. In 1536, in a jousting accident at Greenwich Palace, his legs were crushed under a fully-armoured horse, as a result of which he developed chronic ulcers. These were lanced by his physicians with red-hot pokers, but our manuscript shows that they also used more subtle methods and applied medicines made from natural ingredients. Made in the 1540s, Sloane MS 1047 contains a series of elaborate medical recipes, some of which were devised by Henry himself. It is interesting to observe in this particular manuscript the king's own endeavours as an amateur medical practitioner.

King Henry seated on a throne with, to his left, his physicians John Chambre and William Butts

Detail of King Henry VIII and the Barber Surgeons, by Hans Holbein the Younger, c. 1543 (The Worshipful Company of Barbers)

Many of the treatments in this collection are attributed to his four principal royal physicians: Walter Cromer (d. c. 1547); the Venetian Augustin de Angustinius (fl. 1520s–1540s); William Butts (c. 1486–1545); and John Chambre (1470–1549). The latter two are famously depicted next to the king on Hans Holbein the Younger’s painting Henry VIII and the Barber Surgeons. Henry’s physicians worked separately or collaboratively to create many of the more than 100 plasters, spasmadraps (dipped plasters), ointments, balms, waters, lotions, decoctions and cataplasms (poultices) that make up the contents of Sloane MS 1047. An account book for the years 1543–1544 indicates that they were rewarded well for their services.

Above: two payments to 'doctor Chambre servant' and 'doctor Augustyne servant'; Below: a payment to 'doctour Buttes phisicioun'

Henry VIII’s payments to ‘doctor’ John Chambre, Augustin de Angustinius, and William Butts ‘phisicioun’ (England, 1543–1544): Add MS 59900, ff. 70v and 92v

Remarkably, more than thirty of the treatments are attributed to Henry himself. His recipes identify several of his royal palaces, including Fotheringhay Castle, Greenwich Palace and Hampton Court, as well as Cawood Castle in North Yorkshire, as the locations where he wrote and tested his recipes, suggesting that he took his apothecary equipment on his travels. A typical introduction to his recipes reads as follows:

‘An Oyntement devised by the Kinges Maiestie made at Westminster and devised at Grenewich to take awaye Inflammations, and to cease payne, and heale ulcers, called the gray plaster’

The introduction to Henry VIII’s ‘Grey Plaster’, written in brown ink

Henry VIII’s ‘Grey Plaster’ for leg ulcers (England, c. 1540–c. 1545): Sloane MS 1047, f. 44r

Henry’s treatments use numerous plant-based ingredients: fruits and flowers for making pulp of apples (‘pulpe of appulls’), water of strawberries (‘water of Strawe beries’), wine of pomegranates (‘wyne of pomegranate’), oil of lilies (‘oyle of lyllies’), powder of red damask rose leaves (‘pouldre of redde damaske rose leaves’), and water of honeysuckle flowers (‘water of honye suckle flowres’); a wide range of plant leaves with sedative properties, such as henbane (‘henbayne’), mandragora (‘mandrake’), black poppy (‘blacke poppie’), and the poisonous nightshade; wood of guaiacum that was imported from the ‘New World’ (tropical America) and referred to as ‘wood of life’ (lignum vitae) for its purported healing properties, and the red resin of the dragon blood tree that was known as dragon’s blood (sanguis draconis).

Red dots representing the resin from the Dragon Blood Tree that was used for healing wounds

The Dragon Blood Tree in an Italian herbal (Salerno, c. 1280–c. 1310): Egerton 747, f. 89r

Henry and his physicians also made ample use of medicinal waters, metals, minerals and stones. Their recipes included aqua mirabilis (‘miracle water’), a water mixed with spirit-infused spices; ceruse, a mixture of white lead and vinegar that was a popular cosmetic skin whitener in 16th-century England; Armenian bole, a medicinal red clay from Armenia; terra sigillata, sealed cakes of mineral-rich earth associated with the Greek isle of Lemnos; and lapis lazuli, a blue stone that was highly sought after by illuminators and painters for making the pigment ultramarine, but that was also used for medicinal purposes and already recommended by the Greek physician Dioscorides (c. 49–90) for treating ulcers.

A drawing of the blue stone lapis lazuli

Lapis lazuli in an Italian herbal (Salerno, c. 1280–c. 1310): Egerton 747, f. 51v

Unicorn horn may be the most surprising ingredient in Henry’s treatments. The legendary animal’s single horn was ascribed great cleansing and healing powers in the late Middle Ages. The demand for it created a trade in which narwhal tusk and walrus ivory were sold off as unicorn horn. English kings and queens were regular buyers: Elizabeth I drank from a unicorn horn cup, and James I used a unicorn horn potion for his ailing son. No less than ten of Henry’s recipes require ‘cornu unicornu’ or ‘unicornis horne’. One of these is the ‘Plaster of Horns’.   

Plaster of Horns:

Take 4 ounces of finely powdered litharge of gold [a mineral mixed with lead oxide], 2 ounces of ceruse, unicorn’s horn, hartshorn, oyster shell, red coral, and burn them all up. Take half a pint of oil of roses, and 2 ounces of white vinegar of roses. Put them all in a clean pan on a gentle fire, boiling them while constantly stirring, until it is like a plaster, and then prepare rolls out of them and keep them for your use.

(‘Emplastrum de cornubus:

Take lytherge of golde fynely pouldered iiij unces, ceruse ij unces, unicornes horne, hartes horne, oyster shelles, redd corall, all thiese combusted, and well preparated of eche of them one unce, take half a pynte of oyle of rosys, and ij unces of white vineacre of roses. Putt them all in a fair basyn over a softe fyre, boyling and styrring them styll, tyll yt be plaster wyse, and then make it upp in rolles and kepe it to your use’)

A plaster with unicorn’s horn England, written in brown ink

A plaster with unicorn’s horn: Sloane MS 1047, f. 20v

A unicorn lying down before a virgin who holds his horn while sitting on the trunk of a tree, drawn in brown ink

The unicorn in the Historia Animalium (Italy, 1595): Add MS 82955, f. 191r

Henry also used his knowledge to provide medical advice to others. One recipe in Sloane MS 1047 is addressed to his fourth wife Anne of Cleves, queen consort from 6 January to 9 July 1540, and claims to ‘mollifie, and resolve, conforte and cease payne of colde and wyndie causses’.

The introduction to a plaster, presumably made by Henry VIII, for Anne of Cleves

‘A plaster for my ladye Anne of Cleve’: Sloane MS 1047, f. 30v

We do not know how successful Henry’s treatments were, but sources suggest that his medical advice was much valued. Sloane MS 4 contains a recipe for ‘A Medycyn for the pestylence’ that is attributed to Henry (‘Kyng Henry the Eight’) and claims that it ‘hath helpyd dyvers persons’. Moreover, in a letter to Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Brian Tuke (d. 1545), Henry’s secretary, stated that the king gave him ‘remedies as any learned physician in England could do’ [‘remedyes as any connyng phisician in England coude do'].

A passage from a letter by Sir Brian Tuke to Cardinal Wolsey in which he compares Henry VIII to a learned physician, written in brown ink

Sir Brian Tuke likens Henry VIII to a ‘connyng phisician’ (Hunsdon, 1528): Cotton MS Titus B I, f. 305v

In turning the pages of Sloane MS 1047, one can imagine Henry discussing new medical treatments with his royal physicians, learning from them and sharing his own experiences as both a practitioner and patient. Although Henry is often remembered for his tyranny, our manuscript reminds us that he was highly educated, greatly interested in medicine, and continued to learn and apply his knowledge until the end of his life. 

You can now explore Henry VIII’s treatments — and spot all his unicorn recipes — on our Digitised Manuscripts site.

 

Clarck Drieshen

Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval

07 June 2020

Remembering the Field of Cloth of Gold

Five hundred years ago, on 7 June 1520, in a field in northern France, two monarchs rode to meet each other, doffed their caps, dismounted, and embraced as brothers: they were François I of France (1515–1547) and Henry VIII of England (1509–1547). The two kings met south of the village of Andres, roughly halfway between the French castle at Ardres (Cotton MS Augustus I II 74) and the English castle at Guînes (Cotton MS Augustus I II 12), watched and cheered by their assembled courts. The site had been chosen because it lay on the southern border of the Calais Pale, a territory held since 1347 by the kings of England as part of their claim to the kingdom of France.

Portrait of King François I

Portrait of King François I of France by Godefroy le Batave, 1519: Harley MS 6205, f. 3r

Portrait of King Henry VIII

Portrait of King Henry VIII of England by an unknown artist, c. 1520: National Portrait Gallery 4690

Cardinal Thomas Wolsey was the driving force behind the meeting between François and Henry, motivated in part by his own personal ambition and a genuine desire to promote peace, but also by the need to create the means whereby his master, Henry, could achieve comparable status to his wealthier and more powerful brother monarchs. To that end, Wolsey had negotiated the 1518 Treaty of London, binding Pope Leo X, Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I and his grandson, the king of Spain, as well as François, Henry, and more than a dozen other princes and states, to a non-aggression pact. This ‘universal peace’, first proposed by Leo, only for Wolsey to appropriate the idea, made Henry the arbiter of Christendom. But it served the further purpose of reining in François, who had invaded Italy and conquered the duchy of Milan within months of becoming king.

A bird's eye view of the fortification of Ardres

Plan of the French castle at Ardres by Giovanni Rossetti, c. 1543: Cotton MS Augustus I II 74

When Maximilian died in 1519, his grandson succeeded him as Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, ruling over Austria, Spain (and its New World empire), the Netherlands, and Naples, making him the most powerful man in Europe. His only real rivals were François and the Ottoman sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent. It was in order to forge a powerful place for Henry, under changing geopolitical circumstances, that Wolsey invited Charles to England for talks in late May 1520 before Henry’s departure to meet François. Henry had two options for influencing Charles and François: make magnificent war or make magnificent peace, always with the purpose of playing one off in his favour against the other.

A pen-and-ink drawing of the fortification at Guînes

View of the English castle at Guînes, 2nd quarter of the 16th century: Cotton MS Augustus I II 12

On 31 May 1520, Henry and Queen Katherine of Aragon embarked for France, accompanied by 6,000 of their subjects and all the rich splendour of the court. The meeting with François was to take the form of a tournament, to inaugurate the peace between England and France. Traditional enemies, the two kingdoms had been at war as recently as 1514. Mistrust and hostility persisted. The French were ‘dogs and knaves’, viewed as cowardly and duplicitous; they, in turn, regarded the English as backward and brutish (Correspondance politique de MM. de Castillon et de Marillac, ed. J. Kaulek (Paris, 1885), no. 247).  Yet Henry spoke French well, and French culture had a profound influence on his court and its tastes. Before his meeting with François, for example, the clean-shaven Henry grew a beard in imitation of the French king, giving him the appearance by which we know him today. François was equally cultured. Both men were tall, strong and athletic. Both loved the noble pastimes of hunting and jousting. At François’s request, Henry had his armour adapted to the latest French fashion prior to the tournament.

One of Henry's tents at the Field of Cloth of Gold

A pavilion in the green and white livery colours of the Tudors: Cotton MS Augustus I II 76

After that initial meeting on 7 June 1520, François and Henry demonstrated their princely power and prestige in a daily round of tournaments, entertainments and banquets lasting more than two weeks. Massive temporary palaces were erected to house both the kings and their courts. Some original designs for Henry’s tents survive. One shows a pavilion in the green and white livery colours of the Tudors (Cotton MS Augustus I II 76). The two larger central tents depicted here are linked by galleries. All are decorated with candelabra, arabesque and foliage motifs, showing the influence of the Italian renaissance on the English court (as mediated through France and the Netherlands). So costly and sumptuous were the tents, the tapestries and the hangings decorating and subdividing them, and the clothes worn by the monarchs and their courts, that they lent the meeting its name: the Field of Cloth of Gold or Camp du Drap d’Or. Cloth of gold was fabric woven with silk and gold thread fit for a king.

A drawing of blue tents for the Field of Cloth of Gold

A drawing of red tents for the Field of Cloth of Gold

A drawing of green and white tents for the Field of Cloth of Gold

Other designs for Henry VIII's tents at the Field of Cloth of Gold are found in Cotton MS Augustus III/1, ff. 11r, 18r, 19r

The universal peace that the Field of Cloth of Gold had celebrated proved short-lived, and England and France were once more at war in 1522. Yet Henry’s relationship with François remained complex, an unstable combination of admiration, emulation and enmity, of peace punctuated by war.

 

Alan Bryson

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04 June 2020

Late manuscripts, bad manuscripts?

The later their date, the lower their quality. This is how some 19th-century scholars approached Greek manuscripts from after 1200. In the quest for the earliest exemplars, hundreds of late medieval and early modern manuscripts were ignored and marginalised as irrelevant late copies.

Despite the many warnings against this view, it was only in 1934 that an Italian scholar, Giorgio Pasquali (1882-1952), finally put it in writing that 'late manuscripts are not bad manuscripts'. They can be important for a number reasons: for the texts they preserve, for the way they present them or, frankly, just for themselves as books of their age.

Representation of a lizard from a 16th-century copy of a Byzantine Bestiary
Representation of a lizard from a 16th-century copy of a Byzantine Bestiary (France, 2nd quarter of the 16th century–3rd quarter of the 16th century), Burney MS 97, f. 24v (detail)

The exceptional collection of Greek manuscripts in the British Library illustrates the truth of Pasquali’s axiom. The Library holds manuscripts that highlight the role of later Greek manuscripts in the development of printing Greek in the West, and that represent interesting interactions of print and manuscript culture in the 16th century.

Thanks to generous funding we received from the Hellenic Foundation last year, we have been able to digitise seven 18th-century Greek manuscripts which amply demonstate why later manuscripts can be just as fascinating as ancient ones.

Old texts in new manuscripts

The most obvious reason why a later manuscript can be of key importance is if it preserves the only copy of an ancient text. One of the volumes digitised during the project (Add MS 78675) is an example of this.

Illuminated headpiece
Illuminated headpiece from the beginning of an unidentified rhetorical text, (Eastern Mediterranean, 18th century), Add MS 78675, f. 1r

Written in nice 18th-century Greek cursive, the manuscript contains texts designed to help the reader to write in polished Greek language. The first text is a long unpublished manual of rhetoric in two parts. It consists of a general introduction to rhetoric, followed by a long treatise on how to tackle and refute arguments of opponents at court.

We have not been able to identify the author of this text but we found other copies of it in four manuscripts: two in Paris and two in the British Library (Add MS 39622, ff. 100-196r, and Add MS 18190, ff. 90-151v). Interestingly, the manuscripts are all from the 18th century but the text itself looks older. Analysing its wording and content, the closest parallels are all from 5th/6th-century rhetorical treatises. This suggests that it may be an ancient rhetorical tract which resurfaced in the 17th/18th century and was spread only in later Greek manuscripts. The text would certainly deserve a full study and edition, which the recently digitised manuscripts will surely facilitate.

Ancient and modern in one manuscript

Another reason why later manuscripts are exciting is that they show how texts from classical antiquity came down to us through the medieval and early modern eras. Another newly digitised Greek manuscript (Add MS 39619) presents this remarkably well.

Copied in 1712 somewhere in the region of Arta in north-western Greece, it was acquired by the English traveller Robert Curzon (1810-1873) and bequeathed to the Library by his heirs in 1917. See more about Greek manuscripts from Curzon’s collection.

The volume is a handy collection of texts instructing the reader on how to compose letters. It starts with a 4th-century collection of samples to convince, refute, denigrate or praise others. This text is followed by a similar but updated collection, which replaces the ancient samples with new ones taken from the Gospels (f. 37r) or Byzantine history (f. 44r).

Sample of refutation from a collection of Greek rhetorical texts
Sample of a refutation using a Byzantine historical topic, 'that what historians write about the Emperor Leo the Wise is not likely to be true', from a collection of Greek rhetorical texts (Region of Arta, 1712), Add MS 39619, f. 44v (detail)

This long series of Byzantine sample texts is followed by some actual examples to show how the theory is to be put into practice. It is illustrated by a selection of letters from a contemporary ecclesiastic, Anastasius Gordius (1654-1720). Anastasius studied in Western Europe and spoke and wrote in Italian as well as in Latin. He lived as a monk in his village and served as a doctor, philanthropist and teacher of rhetoric, and was canonized as a saint in the 18th century. Interestingly, the manuscript was written in his lifetime and is a clear example of how ancient Greek rhetoric stayed alive, transmitted through classical texts and their Byzantine adaptations to be used by Early Modern Greek intellectuals.

Beginning of a selection of letters from Anasatasius Gordius
Beginning of a selection of letters from Anasatasius Gordius (Region of Arta, 1712), Add MS 39619, f. 101r (detail)

Late manuscripts as books

Another recently digitised manuscript (Add MS 78674) shows why these late copies are interesting just for themselves. Copied in 1738 by an unknown scribe, the volume preserves a long commentary on Aristotle’s logical works written by one of the most important Byzantine philosophers of the early 17th century, Theophilus Corydalleus. The volume exhibits a mixture of Eastern and Western layout and decoration, just as the author himself conflated Western philosophical ideas, learned during his education at the best universities in Italy, with Byzantine theological heritage.

Diagram of philosophical concepts from the Commentary of Theophilus Corydalleus
Diagram of philosophical concepts from the Commentary of Theophilus Corydalleus on Aristotle’s logical works (Eastern Mediterranean, 1738), Add MS 78674, f. 66r (detail)

The coloured diagrams illustrating the philosophical reasoning seem to go back to earlier Byzantine or even ancient examples. The frequently recurring motif of a vase at the foot of some of these diagrams resembles the decoration of the 5th-century Codex Alexandrinus.

Tailpiece at the end of the Acts of the Apostles in the the Codex Alexandrinus
Tailpiece at the end of the Acts of the Apostles from one of the earliest complete Bible manuscripts, the Codex Alexandrinus (Eastern Mediterranean, 5th century), Royal MS 1 D VIII, f. 76r (detail)

Yet at the same time, the neatly designed table of contents, showing chapters with folio numbers at the end of the volume, looks like a modern Western print.

Table of contents from the end of the Commentary of Theophilus Corydalleus
Table of content from the end of the Commentary of Theophilus Corydalleus on Aristotle’s logical works (Eastern Mediterranean, 1738), Add MS 78674, f. 270r (detail)

We are very grateful for the generous support of the Hellenic Foundation which helped us digitise and highlight these later Greek manuscripts. They provide ample illustration that late manuscripts ARE NOT bad manuscripts.

Peter Toth

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09 May 2020

In search of the books of Richard Amadas

Many of the medieval manuscripts that survive today passed through the hands of early modern book collectors. One of these was Richard Amadas, vicar of the small village and civil parish of Great Hallingbury, Essex, in the late 16th and early 17th century. Much of what we know about him (which is indeed very little) comes from the testament that he made and signed in 1626. From it, we learn that Amadas's will was proved in 1629, which suggests that he died in that year. We also learn that he bequeathed ‘all my bookes that I have’ to his wife, Mary.

A church with a stone spire on a tower with a crenellated top, red-tiled roof, and wooden doors and glass-stained windows in pointed arches, with a churchyard in front of it.

St Giles’ Church, Great Hallingbury, Essex, remodelled in 1874, but featuring medieval elements as old as the 11th century (image by The Rambling Man / Wikimedia Commons / CC-BY-SA-3.0)

Not long after Amadas’s death his books were dispersed. Only a small number of these have been identified in modern times; in our cataloguing work at the British Library, we have now discovered three medieval manuscripts from his collection. They survive in two of our foundation collections, formed respectively by Sir Robert Bruce Cotton (1574–1631), and by the Lord High Treasurer Robert Harley (1661–1724), first earl of Oxford and Mortimer, and his son Edward Harley (1689–1741). Here we explore what can be gleaned from these manuscripts about Amadas’s interests as an early modern book collector.

In the early 1980s, the librarian J. C. T. Oates identified a number of Amadas’s medieval manuscripts and printed books at Cambridge University Library. Among these is the so-called ‘Cambridge Juvencus Manuscript’ (Cambridge, University Library, Ff.4.42), containing a 9th-century copy of the Evangeliorum libri IV (The Four Books of the Gospels) by the 4th-century poet Juvencus, with the earliest surviving poems in Old Welsh entered in the margins. The manuscript has been annotated in a script that is identical to that found in Amadas’s testament. If this is Amadas's own handwriting, it suggests that he closely studied Juvencus’s verse rendering of the Gospel narrative.

A page from the Cambridge Juvencus manuscript, showing the name 'Richard Price'

The 'Cambridge Juvencus Manuscript' contains annotations attributed to Richard Amadas, including the name 'Mr. Price' on f. 1v: the whole manuscript can be viewed online

Each of the three newly-identified manuscripts from Amadas’s collection bears his signature on its opening page. But his signature is difficult to read, with Oates describing it as ‘an almost illegible tangle of narrow sloping loops’.

A tangle of narrow cursive loops in red ink, representing the name of Richard Amadas

The full page containing the signature of Richard Amadas

The signature of Richard Amadas (‘Richarde Amadas’) in Cotton MS Titus D XVI, f. 1r, followed by the full page in which it is found

One of Amadas’s manuscripts is Cotton MS Titus D XVI. It contains an early 12th-century copy of the Psychomachia (Battle of the Soul) by the early 5th-century Roman poet Prudentius, an allegorical work in which personifications of the seven vices and virtues combat each other. Colin Tite, who dedicated much of his career to studying the Cotton collection, managed to decipher Amadas’s signature but did not identify him with the book-collecting vicar of Great Hallingbury.

Cotton MS Titus D XVI provides interesting clues about how Amadas used his books. Writing in bright red ink and in a distinct squarish script with an unusually large letter ‘v’, he frequently added annotations to the Psychomachia. The annotations usually contain expansions of Latin abbreviations or synonyms for words in Prudentius’s work. For example, in a section that describes how Pride attacks Humility, Amadas has underlined the word ‘umbonis’ (boss of a shield) and added the word ‘bucklar’ (from the Old French bucler or Latin buccularius, a shield with a boss) in the page’s outer margin. 

A figure on horseback (Pride) raising a spear while charging at another figure holding a sword (Humility). Below the latter figure, Richard Amadas has written the word ‘bucklar’ in red ink.

Amadas’s annotation for ‘umbonis’ (underlined) in the outer margin (‘bucklar’) in Prudentius’s Psychomachia (St Albans Abbey, 1st quarter of the 12th century): Cotton MS Titus D XVI, f. 14r

Amadas also owned Cotton MS Vespasian D XI. This 12th-century manuscript contains the Hypognosticon — a salvation history from the Creation until the present time — by the poet Lawrence of Durham (c. 1110–1154), prior of Durham Cathedral Priory. The manuscript’s opening page features two signatures that previously had not been deciphered. However, a comparison with the signature that Colin Tite deciphered from Cotton MS Titus D XVI provides us with a match, leaving no doubt that this is another of Amadas’s manuscripts. 

The first signature of Richard Amadas

A second signature of Richard Amadas

A tangle of narrow cursive loops in red ink, representing the name of Richard Amadas, written in the lower margin of the opening page of the poems of Lawrence of Durham. His signature also occurs in the upper left corner.

Two signatures of Richard Amadas are found on the opening page of Lawrence of Durham's poems, one in the lower margin and the other in the upper left corner (Dore Abbey, 2nd half of the 12th century): Cotton MS Vespasian D XI, f. 2r

Cotton MS Vespasian D XI also contains annotations that suggest that Amadas closely studied its contents. Aside from expanding Latin abbreviations, he may also have been responsible for adding punctuation marks and corrections to the poems. For example, in a section which was highlighted as a ‘poem of the planets’ (planetarum versus), he may also have corrected the word ‘myras’ (wonderful) with ‘vias’ (ways).

A poem on the planets with the Latin names of the planets underlined and an interlinear correction, perhaps added by Richard Amadas

Amadas’s annotations to Lawrence of Durham’s Hypognosticon (Abbey Dore, 2nd half of the 12th century): Cotton MS Vespasian D XI, f. 62v

A third manuscript with Amadas’s signature (Harley MS 399) was recently discovered in our ongoing cataloguing project on the Harley collection. It contains a 15th-century copy of the Secretum Secretorum, a treatise that purports to be a letter from the Greek philosopher Aristotle to his pupil Alexander the Great, covering a wide range of subjects such as alchemy, astrology, ethics, magic, medicine and politics.

Amadas did not annotate the Secretum Secretorum, perhaps because there was little scholarly interest in this work during his lifetime. Although it was well known during the later Middle Ages, it lost its popularity during the 16th century when it became widely recognized that there was no evidence for Aristotle’s claimed authorship.

A tangle of narrow cursive loops in red ink, representing the name of Richard Amadas, written in the lower margin of the opening page of the Secretum Secretorum.

Richard Amadas’s signature at the opening of the Secretum Secretorum (England, 15th century): Harley MS 399, f. 1r

Richard Amadas was clearly a student of Latin language and literature. By clarifying and correcting the grammar of the Latin poems in his manuscripts, he followed a tradition of humanist scholars who sought to create accurate editions of Classical Latin texts. Today he is virtually unknown as a book collector, but through these new identifications we can gain a better understanding of the small but important collection of medieval manuscripts that he studied and preserved for posterity.

You can read more about Amadas and the Cambridge Juvencus in J. C. T. Oates, ‘Notes on the Later History of the Oldest Manuscript of Welsh Poetry: The Cambridge Juvencus’, Cambridge Medieval Celtic Studies, 3 (1982), 81-87. This manuscript can be viewed on the Cambridge Digital Library, and there is also a facsimile and commentary by Helen McKee published for CMCS Publications (2000). Colin Tite deciphered the signature in Cotton MS Titus D XVI in his The Early Records of Sir Robert Cotton's Library: Formation, Cataloguing, Use (London: The British Library, 2003), p. 199.

 

Clarck Drieshen

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