22 October 2012
Paging through Troilus and Criseyde
The beginning of Book I; from Troilus and Criseyde by Geoffrey Chaucer, England, 2nd or 3rd quarter of the 15th century, Harley MS 2392, f. 1r
Geoffrey Chaucer is probably the most famous English poet of the Middle Ages, well known for his masterpiece, The Canterbury Tales. Chaucer wrote other works besides the Tales, however. Before setting his pen to the famous story-telling contest, his greatest work was probably the long romance in five books called Troilus and Criseyde. Out of 16 extant manuscripts, 6 are today at the British Library.
Detail of a portrait of Geoffrey Chaucer; from The Canterbury Tales, England, c. 1410, Lansdowne MS 851, f. 2r
Troilus and Criseyde were legendary lovers during the Trojan War. Today that conflict is more familiar from stories about the Trojan horse, or the judgment of Paris. But for several centuries in the Middle Ages and Renaissance, the courtly love affair between Troilus and the fickle Criseyde was a popular and familiar part of the Trojan story. Criseyde, the beautiful daughter of a Trojan priest, professed her undying love to Troilus. But when her father defected to the Greek side, she was sent to join him, and became the mistress of the Greek warrior Diomedes. The story appeared in a number of different works, both literary and historical: Shakespeare even based one of his tragedies on the plot (Troilus and Cressida).
While the Trojan prince Troilus, son of Priam, was a character mentioned by Homer and other ancient Greek authors, those classical versions of his story are very different from the medieval tale. According to the Greek authors, there was a prophecy that the fate of the city of Troy was tied up with that of its prince, and that if Troilus was killed, Troy too would fall. Troilus's death at the hands of Achilles, therefore, doomed the city that shared his name. There was no mention of a love affair.
Detail of a miniature of a battle and, to the right, Troilus greeting his mother, Queen Hecuba; from the Histoire ancienne jusq'à César, Italy (Naples), c. 1330-c. 1340, Royal MS 20 D. i, f. 139v
The love story was the invention of the 12th-century author Benoît de Sainte-Maure. It was expanded in the 14th century by Boccaccio, whose most famous work the Decameron, a collection of tales framed by a story-telling competition, would have its own afterlife in Chaucer's canon. Chaucer's transformation of Troilus's story as he found it in Boccaccio's Il Filostrato was therefore part of a larger adaptation of the best of contemporary Italian literature into a new English poetic.
The British Library's Troilus manuscripts all date from the 15th century -- a few decades, that is, after the death of the author. Their pages, while calligraphically beautiful with their decorative borders and letters picked out in red and blue, are not elaborately illustrated. But they allow us the experience of participating in the literary avant-garde of the late Middle Ages.
The first page of Book IV; from Troilus and Criseyde by Geoffrey Chaucer, England, 1st half of the 15th century, British Library, Harley MS 2280, f. 57r.
Nicole Eddy
12 October 2012
More Gorleston Psalter 'Virility': Profane Images in a Sacred Space
This is the second of a two-part series about the marginalia of the Gorleston Psalter; for more information, please see the post "Virile, if Somewhat Irresponsible" Design.
The existence of marginalia – particularly of the blasphemous, sexual, or scatological varieties – was for a long time a source of unease and uncertainty for manuscript scholars. One explanation for its presence was the suggestion that medieval illuminators suffered from a horror vacui (or fear of empty space), which presumably required them to fill empty pages at random. Other scholars characterized marginalia as essentially meaningless, purely decorative sources of distraction. Another approach was for scholars to simply ignore it entirely; the original description of the Gorleston Psalter in the British Library Catalogue, for example, scarcely mentions the manuscript’s marginalia at all.
f. 98v: detail of a marginal scene of a hybrid nun with a cowled grotesque, now mostly erased
Marginalia can sometimes be shocking for modern viewers who have never encountered it before. Whilst giving tours of the recent Royal exhibition, I was frequently asked whether these kinds of images were created by later 'vandals' to undermine the sacred nature of the original texts. In reality, the reverse is often true; it is not uncommon to find that subsequent owners of a manuscript have either erased or defaced paintings that they presumably found particularly troubling. There are several occurrences of this kind of later revision in the Gorleston Psalter. In light of what was allowed to remain, these must have been considered horrifyingly offensive – I leave the original subject of one instance (f. 98v, above) to your imaginations.
Not all the miniatures in the Gorleston Psalter are so potentially explosive, however. The manuscript features a number of images of everyday life in 14th century England, similar to those found in the Rutland Psalter and the Luttrell Psalter (Add MSS 62925 and 42130, both of which will be included in Digitised Manuscripts). See below for two scenes that must have been very common sights for the original readers of this manuscript - disregarding the outsized butterfly, of course.
f. 153v: detail of a marginal scene of a man plowing with oxen, with a butterfly above
f. 193r: detail of a marginal scene of man working on a forge
But these sorts of 'normal' images are in the distinct minority. Along with animals behaving strangely and people behaving badly, most of the Gorleston Psalter's pages also feature grotesques and hybrids, creatures that are part-animal, part-man, and even sometimes part-foliate border (see below).
f. 94v: detail of a marginal scene of a man watching a mass in an historiated initial
A few of the fabulous creatures populating Gorleston's folios can be seen engaging in a direct interaction with the 'proper' text itself. On f. 94v, for example, the figure emerging from the border looks to be extremely interested in the Mass depicted in the initial above him. On a number of occasions in the Psalter, the reader him or herself is the subject of (perhaps) mocking attention.
f. 123r: detail of a marginal creature pulling a face
Another subset of Gorleston's marginalia (and marginalia in general) is that which depicts the monde renversé – or upside-down world – where the usual rules are turned on their heads and the lines between humans and animals are blurred. A few particularly charming examples:
f. 164r: detail of a marginal scene of rabbits conducting a funeral procession
f. 106v: detail of a marginal scene of a rabbit and another animal playing music
f. 102v: detail of a miniature of a man on horseback encountering a monkey displaying its hindquarters
The last image above may be startling to today's readers, but it is far from anomalous. The Gorleston Psalter, like many manuscripts from this period, exhibits an apparently endless fascination with the examination of bottoms. A lot of ink has been spilt explaining the presence of these profane images in what is essentially a sacred space - the Psalter is, of course, a book of prayer, intended for personal religious observance and devotion. How can we then explain the presence of the following?
f. 104r: detail of a marginal scene of a grotesque hybrid examining another’s hindquarters
f. 61r: detail of a marginal scene of a man displaying his hindquarters
f. 82r: detail of a marginal scene of a nude bishop chastising a defecating cleric
Criticism of these kinds of images is nearly as old as the images themselves. The most famous (and freqently cited) is that of Bernard of Clairvaux, who asked: 'What excuse can there be for these ridiculous monstrosities...? One could spend the whole day gazing fascinated at these things, one by one, instead of meditating on the law of God. Good Lord, even if the foolishness of it all occasion no shame, at least one might balk at the expense.' (Bernard of Clairvaux, Excerpts from the Apologia to Abbot William of St-Thierry, VII.30; see here for more).
But the fact that so many patrons did not balk at the expense implies that many people considered these ridiculous monstrosities to be desirable, even valuable. In the last 30 years or so, significant efforts have been made to understand marginalia in its proper context; there are many theories about its function and purpose (see for example Lillian Randall's Images in the Margins of Gothic Manuscripts or Michael Camille's Image on the Edge: The Margins of Medieval Art). The margins may have been a safe place for subversion against cultural norms, a sort of carnival on the page. They might serve as demonstrations of artistic skill, or as creative parody, intended to evoke the laughter that they still succeed in drawing from us today. Many kinds of marginalia also functioned as additional commentary on the text that they surround, or as anti-examples, moral guides about what not to do. One suspects that is the case with the kind of image below, which shows a man in a monk's cloak emptying a purse of coins before a woman - presumably in exchange for her sexual services.
f. 142r: detail of a marginal scene of a monk offering money to a woman
A complete and comprehensive explanation for all of these fantastic images still eludes us, but perhaps that is the point. To me, the very impossibility of capturing the meaning of marginalia is the source of its power, and a sign that the lines between sacred and profane in the medieval era were much more complicated and fluid than we have heretofore imagined. I will leave you with a few more examples of mysterious marginalia, those that are (thus far) unclassifiable. Any suggestions on interpretation are, as always, very welcome.
f. 48v: detail of a marginal scene of a man vomiting, presumably in a begging bowl held out by a grotesque (there are several similar scenes in the manuscript; if you wish to pursue the subject further, please see f. 62r or f. 124v)
f. 146r: detail of a marginal scene of a hybrid monkey in a monk’s cloak, sawing a pile of books (?)
f. 209r: detail of a marginal scene of a man whipping a noosed rabbit
There is an embarrassment of riches with the Gorleston Psalter's marginalia. Please have a look at the manuscript on our Digitised Manuscripts site, or follow us on Twitter at @blmedieval; over the coming weeks we will be tweeting more images from this extraordinary manuscript.
- Sarah J Biggs
11 October 2012
'Virile, if Somewhat Irresponsible' Design: The Marginalia of the Gorleston Psalter
This is the first of a two part-series on this extraordinary manuscript and its extraordinary marginalia. Please check the blog tomorrow for the second bit!
f. 8r: Historiated initial 'B'(eatus) of the Tree of Jesse, with marginal scenes of a hunt and David and Goliath
If reader enquiries are any indication, the most recent addition to our Digitised Manuscripts site has been eagerly – even impatiently – anticipated. We are very happy to end the agony of suspense and to let everyone know that the Gorleston Psalter (Add MS 49622) is now online; please click here for the fully-digitised version.
The Gorleston Psalter dates from c. 1310, and has pride of place among a group of similar Psalters which 'are the special glory of the East Anglian school of book-decoration' (according to Sydney Cockerell, who wrote a book about the Gorleston Psalter in 1907 before it entered the British Museum's collections). The Psalter was originally produced for a person associated with the church of St Andrew's, Gorleston (Norfolk), from which it derives its name, but exactly who this person was remains a mystery.
f. 10r: Detail of an historiated initial ‘C'(um) of an elderly bearded layman in prayer, possibly the manuscript's original patron
A bearded layman makes a number of appearances throughout the manuscript, usually in attitudes of religious devotion (see, for example, f. 10r), and these images may represent the original patron. One candidate for this position is Roger Bigod, 5th Earl of Norfolk and Marshal of England (c. 1245 – 1306), but more recently it has been suggested that the honours may lie with John de Warenne, 7th Earl of Surrey (1286 – 1347), whose arms can be seen throughout the manuscript. Additional evidence for this theory could come from the overwhelming number of rabbits that feature in the Gorleston Psalter, seen occasionally in their warrens – a possible visual pun on the Earl's family name (see below, and the bas-de-page of the Beatus page, at the top).
f. 177v: detail of a marginal scene of rabbits sharing their warren with a stag
Soon after the manuscript's creation it came into the possession of Norwich Cathedral Priory, where an extra miniature, prayers and a litany were added c. 1320-1325 (ff. 7r-7v & ff. 226r-228r). The original manuscript seems to have been written c. 1310 by a single scribe, who worked in close collaboration with a group of illuminators. This workshop may have been located in Gorleston itself, and seems to have been a prolific one. A number of other manuscripts have well-established connections to Norfolk in general and Gorleston in particular, including the Stowe Breviary (c. 1322-1325, BL Stowe MS 12), the St Omer Psalter (c. 1330-1340, BL Yates Thompson MS 14), the Douai Psalter (Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 171, almost completely destroyed during WWI), and the famous Macclesfield Psalter (c. 1330, Cambridge, Fitzwilliam Museum, MS 1-2005).
f. 107v: Historiated initial 'E' of the resurrected Christ with musicians below, and marginal images of musicians and a knight holding arms
The Gorleston Psalter may be among the earliest surviving products of this group, and is typically richly illuminated – or, to quote Cockerell – the Psalter exhibits a 'virile, if somewhat irresponsible' design. It is not clear which aspect of the manuscript's decoration earned it this semi-pejorative characterization, but I suspect that the most likely culprit is the wild profusion of marginalia and bas-de-page images that are found throughout it.
f. 45v: detail of two marginal hybrid grotesques
f. 190v: detail of a marginal scene of a fox seizing a duck, with 'sound effects' added in a later hand, reading ‘queck’ [quack] (with thanks to Erik Kwakkel of Leiden for recently featuring this detail on Twitter)
It is difficult for our modern minds to conceive of a world in which holy miniatures could co-exist with silliness and misbehaviour, but this is certainly the case; close examination of these manuscripts have shown that far from being marginal, these images were a crucial part of the programmes of illumination, planned in advance and carefully executed. But it is not always completely clear what function these marginal images served. Check in tomorrow for a further exploration of this question - and, of course, many more spectacular images.
- Sarah J Biggs
01 October 2012
A Calendar Page for October 2012
For more details on calendar pages of the Hours of Joanna of Castile, please see the entry for January 2012.
Calendar pages for October, from the Hours of Joanna of Castile, Netherlands (Bruges), between 1496 and 1506, Additional 18852, ff. 10v-11
The year's final cycle of plowing and sowing is underway in these two connected scenes from the October calendar pages. On the left, two men work with a horse and an oxen team to plow a field, beneath a threatening sky. On the right, a group of people are at work scattering seeds into the field, while a woman holds a beautiful metal jug (filled, one hopes, with the fruits of last year's wine-making). In the roundel above can be seen a set of scales, a symbol for the zodiac sign Libra; this symbol was probably painted in error, as it is usually shown in September.
28 September 2012
The Miroir Historial: A History of the World in a (Large) Nutshell
Detail of a miniature of Caesar crossing the Rhine, with the arms of the Holy Roman emperor held by one of the soldiers, at the beginning of book 7, from the Miroir Historiale (translated by Jean de Vignay from Vincent of Beauvais's Speculum historial), Netherlands (Bruges), 1479-1480, Royal MS 14 E. i, part II, f. 50r
The Miroir Historial (Mirror of History), an encyclopaedia of world history in French, was a part of Edward IV's collection of illustrated historical works produced in Bruges in the early 1470s. Now part of the Royal Collection, it featured in the Royal Exhibition earlier this year at the British Library, and is now digitised in full on our Digitised Manuscripts site (click here for Part I, and here for Part II of the manuscript). The text, a history of the world from Creation to the year 1250, is fully readable and the colourful images accompanying each section are available to view in detail on our website.
The Miroir Historial is based on the historical section of the Speculum maius or 'Great Mirror', a vast Latin work by the Dominican scholar Vincent de Beauvais, produced between 1230 and 1260, during the reign of the saintly King Louis IX of France. This medieval equivalent of Wikipedia was a collection of all the knowledge of the Middle Ages, compiled from a wide variety of sources, including Christian, classical, Arabic and Hebrew. It is a monumental work of scholarship in three volumes, divided into 80 books or 9885 chapters, which became the leading reference work of its day. The Speculum was made up of three parts, each one covering a different branch of knowledge: the Mirror of Nature, the Mirror of Doctrine and the Mirror of History (a fourth part, the Mirror of Morality, was added later).
Detail of a miniature of the birth of Alexander the Great, at the beginning of book 5, from the Miroir Historial (translated by Jean de Vignay from Vincent of Beauvais's Speculum historiale), Netherlands (Bruges), 1479-1480, Royal MS 14 E. i, part 1, f. 177v
The Speculum Historiale was translated into French by a Knight Hospitaller, Jean de Vignay, in the 14th century. It covers the entire history of man from the Creation up to Vincent's lifetime, including tales of Alexander the Great, Mahomet, Charlemagne and Brutus, the mythical founder of Britain, and ending with King Louis' crusade to the Holy Land in 1250. Although the French version does not seem to have had a wide circulation, judging by the relatively small number of surviving manuscripts, the work was dedicated to Jeanne, wife of Philip VI of France and was owned by important collectors such as John, Duke of Berry.
Miniature of Vincent of Beauvais as a Dominican monk, sitting at a desk and writing his book, at the beginning of book 1, with a full border containing the Royal arms of England, from the Miroir Historial (translated by Jean de Vignay from Vincent of Beauvais's Speculum historiale), Netherlands (Bruges), 1479-1480, Royal MS 14 E. i, part 1, f. 3r
Edward IV's copy contains an iconic image of Vincent de Beauvais writing at his desk (which visitors to the Royal exhibition might remember). Behind Vincent can be seen his collection of beautifully-bound books on shelves, an indication of the possible outward appearance of the work in its original binding, which does not survive. The artists responsible for this and the other smaller miniatures in the manuscript were professionals from a Bruges atelier that produced other books for the English king. The borders contain Edward's coat of arms, and Royal insignia of the type found in many of Edward's manuscripts, over forty of which are in the British Library's collections today.
- Chantry Westwell
25 September 2012
Ranulf Higden and Noah's Ark
The first page of the prologue, with decorated initial P and foliate border; from Ranulf Higden, Polychronicon, England, 3rd quarter of the 15th century, Harley 3877, f. 9r.
Ranulf Higden (d. 1364) was a Benedictine monk famous for writing the Polychronicon, a universal chronicle of world history. Finished originally in 1340, it was continued throughout the 14th and 15th centuries, both by Higden and other writers. The Polychronicon was extremely popular, and is now extant in over 100 manuscripts. Even during Higden's lifetime, in 1352, King Edward III requested that the author come to court, bringing his chronicle with him.
Higden's work is encyclopaedic, incorporating descriptions not just of historic events, but of customs, natural history and geography. In some manuscripts this included a map of the world. The one in Royal 14 C. ix is an early and elaborate example that may closely reflect Higden's original version. As was the traditional medieval form for such maps, Jerusalem is in the centre, with Paradise above, in the east. Britain (shown here in red and labelled 'Anglia') is to the lower left, at the very edge of the known world.
Map of the world with east at the top; from Ranulf Higden, Polychronicon, England, last quarter of the 14th century, Royal 14 C. ix, ff. 1v-2r.
While Higden is termed the 'author' of the Polychronicon, it is not all his original prose. Instead, he brought together a variety of authorities, compiling excerpts, anecdotes and explanations from previous histories. This technique is visually evident in the diagrams of Noah's ark. Its relatively precise description in the Bible has long prompted attempts to portray the ark's exact dimensions and layout. Polychronicon manuscripts frequently include two diagrams, side-by side, one with the plan as described by Augustine, and a competing version drawn from other authorities. Both plans show areas reserved for 'men' (upper left) and 'birds' (upper right), as well as for 'gentle' and 'ungentle' animals (herbivores and carnivores, housed separately, for obvious reasons). Further down are an area for supplies and, at the very bottom, the bilge. The picture even answers the question that has occurred to many a child on hearing about the ark: where did they go to the bathroom? One section on each diagram is labelled 'Stercoraria', or 'privy'.
Detail of two diagrams of Noah's ark, labelled with the functions of the different parts of the ship; from Ranulf Higden, Polychronicon, England, 2nd quarter of the 15th century, Harley 1728, f. 47r.
Higden's chronicle provides a window onto the interests of medieval historians (and medieval readers of history), and comparing different manuscripts offers insight into how he organized the whole knowledge about the world. The Polychronicon includes a number of aids for breaking it down into manageable units. An alphabetical index is a common feature of Polychronicon manuscripts, listing the book and chapter number reference for characters from Abraham to Zorobabel.
The beginning of Book VI, with two marginal columns prepared for recording the year, dating both from the birth of Jesus and within the reigns of Louis II (left) and Alfred (right); from Ranulf Higden, Polychronicon, England, c. 1445, Harley 3884, f. 118v.
Also interesting is the treatment of dates. Many of the manuscripts keep track of the relative chronology of events by noting dates in the margins, alongside the text. These dates were even provided on pages where none appeared, by running headings at the top of the page. Harley 3884 has an elaborate example of this system, with red columns running down the page. Above are headings labelling the columns by the year 'of grace' (the number of years since the birth of Jesus, roughly equivalent to our modern dating CE) and the dating according to important people. On this page, the left column records the regnal year of the 9th-century Louis the Stammerer, and that on the right the regnal year of the West Saxon King Alfred.
The consistency in presenting these dates indicates that they were formed an intergral part of the Polychronicon's organization. This consistency even crossed linguistic lines. John Trevisa made an English translation of Higden’s work, completed around 1387. On the page below, from an early 15th century manuscript, are the same headings for the year 'of grace' and regnal date of Louis (though without the red columns). Polychronicon manuscripts vary in quality, but all, from the most haphazard to the most deluxe, are influenced by the same impulse toward organizing history and knowledge about the world.
The beginning of Book VI, with a right margin containing chapter numbers, the names 'lodowycus' and 'Alvredus', and dates; from Ranulf Higden, Polychronicon, translated by John Trevisa, England, last quarter of the 15th century, Harley 1900, f. 234r.
20 September 2012
Not Just a Pretty Picture: Illustrating a Royal Romuléon
Miniature of Romulus and Remus suckling from the she-wolf; from Benvenuto da Imola, Romuléon, translated by Jean Miélot, Netherlands (Bruges), 1480, Royal 19 E. v, f. 32r.
This stunning manuscript (Royal 19 E. v) was made in the Netherlands, at a workshop in Bruges. It was made, however, specifically for the king of England, Edward IV, as is triumphantly evident from the border decoration on this illuminated page. Edward IV's arms (the three lions of England quartered with the fleurs de lis of France) are carried by angels, and the white rose of the House of York features prominently. Edward greatly admired the workmanship of Flemish illuminators, and, around 1479-1480, acquired a large number of such impressively illustrated manuscripts, which remain in the British Library's Royal collection, and some of which are accessible on the Digitised Manuscripts website (see, for example, Royal 14 E. i, vols 1 and 2 and Royal 14 E. iv).
It is possible that Edward's acquisitions were inspired by his admiration for the libraries owned by some of the court surrounding Philip the Good, the Duke of Burgundy and a major patron of the arts in the 1460s. This manuscript would certainly fit such a model: the text is the Romuléon, a medieval Latin compendium, translated into French by one of Philip's court scholars, retelling the history of Rome from its foundation to the reign of the emperor Constantine. Depicted here, on the first page of Book I of the work, is the discovery by a shepherd of Romulus and Remus, the legendary founders of the city of Rome. The boys, according to the story, were the twin sons of the god Mars and a princess named Rhea Silvia, who had been forced to become a Vestal Virgin by her usurping uncle. When, despite her vowed chastity, Rhea Silvia became pregnant, she was killed, and the two brothers were cast out into the wilderness to die. They were saved from starvation by a she-wolf, who nursed Romulus and Remus, and became one of the iconic images of the Roman state.
In this illustration, Romulus and Remus are shown nursing in the foreground, being discovered by a shepherd. The picture adopts a common convention of medieval art, compressing time and combining multiple events in a single, economical image. In the background, the shepherd is shown again, now with the children in his arms, handing them over to his wife for her to raise as their own.
Miniature of an army on the march; from Benvenuto da Imola, Romuléon, translated by Jean Miélot, Netherlands (Bruges), 1480, Royal 19 E. v, f. 125r.
But how did the illuminator know what to draw? Not, in this manuscript as in many others, by actually reading the book! This is clear on several pages, where we can still see the instructions on how to proceed. At the very bottom of the page pictured above, written in letters extremely small and hurried, are the original instructions to the illustrator, left by one of the manuscript's design managers and describing what needed to be shown in the illustration. On most pages, these notes no longer remain, or are only fragmentary: they are located so near the bottom of the page because it was always intended that they would be trimmed away when the manuscript was finished and bound, so that they would no longer spoil the immaculate page. While such notes may not be visually beautiful, however, they are extremely valuable to historians, providing a sneak peek into the process of production for the manuscript.
Detail of instructions to the illustrator; from Benvenuto da Imola, Romuléon, translated by Jean Miélot, Netherlands (Bruges), 1480, Royal 19 E. v, f. 125r.
When enlarged, it is just possible to read these words, written, like the text itself, in French. They say, 'It needs a company with several armed people, both on foot and on horseback, going to war through the countryside'. Details unnecessary for the production of the illustration – like the identity of the 'armed people' – have been left out. Despite this, however, the illuminator has executed these instructions well. That the armed party, who likely represent either the Carthaginian or Roman forces during the Second Punic War, are wearing contemporary armour and march through a landscape of Gothic towers, is fully in keeping with medieval artistic conventions.
Detail of a miniature of the emperor Trajan adopting Hadrian; from Benvenuto da Imola, Romuléon, translated by Jean Miélot, Netherlands (Bruges), 1480, Royal 19 E. v, f. 367v.
17 September 2012
The Gospels of Tsar Ivan Alexander
Detail of a headpiece of the Gospel of Matthew: roundel portrait of the Evangelist, with five smaller roundels arranged around him, depicting ‘the ancient of days’ (top), two six-winged cherubim, Abraham (lower left), and Isaac (lower right), from the Gospels of Ivan Alexander, Bulgaria, 1355-1356, Add MS 39627, f. 6r
On Wednesday, 5 September, the Bulgarian Embassy and His Excellency Mr Konstantin Dimitrov, the Ambassador of the Republic of Bulgaria to the United Kingdom, hosted a private view of the display of two Bulgarian manuscripts that are now on display in the Library’s Sir John Ritblat Treasures gallery.
At the reception Caroline Brazier, Head of the British Library’s Scholarship and Collections directorate, announced that the whole of the Gospels of Ivan Alexander may now be viewed on the Library’s Digitised Manuscripts website (click here for the fully-digitised Gospels). На тази електронна страница можете да разгледате Четириевангелието на цар Иван Александър, най-богато украсеният средновековен български ръкопис.
The Gospels of Tsar Ivan Alexander (Additional MS 39627) is the most celebrated surviving example of Bulgarian medieval art. Written over 650 years ago, in the middle of the fourteenth century, the manuscript contains the Four Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. It was copied by a monk named Simeon, whose identity we know from a long inscription that he appended to the biblical text. Accompanying and fully integrated into the text are no fewer than 366 illustrations – one for each day of the year – that illustrate an extensive range of events from the narrative of the four Evangelists. Every opening of the book thus sparkles with colour and visual interest. However, as Simeon himself makes clear in his account of the making of the volume, the Gospel book was created 'not simply for the outward beauty of its decoration, of colours, gold, precious stones and diamonds, but primarily to express the inner Divine Word, the revelation and the sacred vision'.
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
At the front of the volume is the most famous image painted in the Gospels (above). Here we meet face-to-face the ruler of the Bulgarian empire and the person who ordered the book to be made, Tsar Ivan Alexander. Also shown is the Tsar’s then wife, as well as his two sons by her, his three daughters by his first wife, and lastly his son-in-law.
On display in the Treasures gallery is one of the five other portraits of the Tsar included in the manuscript. In this miniature Ivan Alexander is depicted, not with his earthly family, but in Paradise between Abraham and the Virgin Mary, and within the overall context of a magnificent depiction of the Last Judgement. The starting point for this large illumination is Mark's account of Jesus's prophecy of the end of time. The end result is perhaps the finest of what the volume’s scribe, Simeon, called its 'life-giving images'.
Miniature of the Last Judgement, with Tsar Ivan Alexander in conversation with the Virgin Mary, from the Gospels of Ivan Alexander, Bulgaria, 1355-1356, Add MS 39627, f. 124r
The manuscript is a remarkable survival. Within forty years of the completion of the Gospels of Ivan Alexander, its patron was dead and his empire destroyed. Unlike many other artistic treasures of this remarkable period in Bulgarian history, the Gospels escaped destruction, finding its way north across the Danube. Here it came into the possession of the ruler of Moldavia, also called Ivan Alexander. For several centuries the history of the Gospels is unclear. By the 17th century, however, it appears to have reached the monastery of St Paul on Mount Athos. There it remained until its presentation in 1837 by the abbot of St Paul's to the young English traveller the Honourable Robert Curzon. Brought by Curzon to England, it was later presented to the British Library by his daughter.
The other manuscript on display beside the Gospels of Ivan Alexander is a fitting companion: the Vidin Gospels (Additional 39625). This important copy of the Gospels was also made in Bulgaria during the reign of Tsar Ivan Alexander. It was produced at Vidin and for the Metropolitan of that city, Daniel. Later in its history it too was presented to Curzon on Mount Athos, this time at the monastery of Caracalla, and subsequently by his daughter to the Library.
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