12 August 2016
Pokémon Go! The Medieval Edition
Over the past few weeks, a certain new game has been captivating worldwide interest. It’s not a new Olympic sport or an updated version of Angry Birds, it’s the legendary Pokémon Go! Young and old alike have been out on the streets, climbing up trees and exploring unknown places. With their smartphone in hand, players have been tracking down rare creatures and capturing them inside Pokeballs.
It is traditionally thought that Pikachu, Squirtle and their comrades originated in Japan in the 1990s. However, revolutionary research by the Medieval Manuscripts section has unearthed some familiar scenes among the British Library's collections.
The Luttrell Psalter, Add MS 42130, f. 196v
Pokémon are characterised by their hybrid appearance, bright colours and distinctive qualities. Many medieval manuscripts are also filled with similarly fantastical creatures. A manuscript in the collection here at the British Library which contains an astounding variety of creatures within its margins is the Rutland Psalter. Produced in the 13th century, the manuscript is filled with many weird and wonderful depictions of men, women, real and imagined animals, hybrids and dragons. Many of these creatures could today easily be mistaken for Pokémon.
The Rutland Psalter, Add MS 62925, f. 44r
The Rutland Psalter, Add MS 62925, f. 59r
The marginalia in the Rutland Psalter were heavily influenced by the traditions of the Marvels of the East. An extensively illustrated copy of the Marvels of the East, recently uploaded to our Digitised Manuscripts site, contains a variety of marvellous creatures. This griffen-esque character would surely make an extremely fearsome Pokémon!
The Marvels of the East, Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1, f. 86v
In the game, a player can catch a Pokémon by throwing a Pokeball towards it and hoping that the Pokeball encases the creature, much like this purple clothed figure appears to be doing!
The Luttrell Psalter, Add MS 42130, f. 145r
There is much mystery surrounding what happens to Pokémon once they are encased within the Pokeball. Perhaps they are shrunk down to a faction of their size and float peacefully within the ball, much like the creatures depicted in this 13th-century bestiary.
A medieval bestiary, Harley MS 4751, f. 62r
The map which guides players through the simultaneously real and imagined world of Pokémon Go is not too dissimilar to the pilgrimage itinerary maps drawn by Matthew Paris. These maps were primarily designed to guide an imagined pilgrimage to Jerusalem, rather than a functional map to be carried by a traveller. One could argue that this is similar to the use of ‘virtual reality’ maps in games such as Pokémon Go today.
Itinerary to Jerusalem, Royal MS 14 C VII, f. 2r
Pokémon Go is not just about catching the Pokémon; it’s also about training them, and battling against other players and their own Pokémon. One of the most frequently illustrated battles in medieval manuscripts is that between a knight and his eternal enemy, the snail. If snails were a kind of Pokémon, they would be among the most elusive and hard to catch of all. Perhaps it’s their hard shell, agile antenna, or slimy trail; who knows?! For a full chronicle of the enduring battle between knights and snails, see our legendary blogpost.
The Smithfield Decretals, Royal MS 10 E IV, f. 107r
The Medieval Manuscripts team wishes you the best of luck in your endeavours to ‘catch them all’!
A juggler in a gradual, Harley MS 4951, f. 298v
Becky Lawton
10 August 2016
Leontion, 'Little Prostitute' or 'Great Philosopher'
Followers of our Twitter account may remember an image we posted a few months ago on #InternationalHugAMedievalistDay, showing a woman being interrupted from her reading by a man trying to embrace her. It turns out that the story behind the image involves ancient Greece, Renaissance Italy, female intellectuals, Epicureans, misogyny and, possibly, prostitution.
Don't interrupt someone reading, even on #InternationalHugAMedievalistDay! Detail of Leontion, from Des cleres et nobles femmes, anonymous French translation of Giovanni Boccaccio’s De claris mulieribus, Paris, c. 1400-1425, Royal MS 20 C V, f. 96v
The woman depicted in this image is Leontion (fl. 300 BC), a female Epicurean philosopher from Ancient Greece. Leontion’s own writings have now been lost. A fragment of a letter addressed to her from her mentor Epicurus (341-270 BC) survives to suggest her learning and her importance in the Epicurean school of philosophy. Apart from that, little is known of her. She may have been the companion of another Epicurean philosopher, Metrodorus. Later sources claimed she was a hetaerae, or courtesan, although there is no way now to verify this claim. Nevertheless, although few sources about Leontion survive, she remained famous for centuries after her death for criticising a rival philosopher, Theophrastus (d. c. 287 BC), who was Aristotle's successor as teacher at the Lyceum.
Some later writers were aghast at this incident. In De natura deorum, Cicero (106 BC-43 BC) decried the ‘little prostitute’ who challenged the great Theoprastus (although he admitted her Attic Greek was good). Others admired Leontion: the Alexandrian teacher Aelius Theon (fl. c. 50 AD) portrayed her in his Progymnasmata as a prime example of someone from a low social class who achieved great things.
Even as late as the 14th century, Leontion was still making waves when Giovanni Boccaccio (1313-1375) included her in his Book of Famous Women (De mulieribus claris), a collection of 106 short biographies of famous and infamous women. The image of Leontion which we tweeted comes from an early 15th-century manuscript of a French translation of the Book of Famous Women (Royal MS 20 C V), one of several copies of that work and its later translations which are held at the British Library.
Miniature depicting Boccaccio reading a book, Boccaccio presenting the book to Andrea Acciaiuoli and a group of women, a messenger presenting a letter to a lady, and a queen with four women playing musical instruments, with a full border and a foliate initial 'I', from Giovanni Boccaccio’s De mulieribus Claris in an anonymous French translation, Rouen, c. 1440, Royal MS 16 G V, f. 74r
In his account of Leontion’s life, Boccaccio acknowledged her immense learning and intelligence. Nevertheless, he seems to have regarded her more as a negative example to be avoided than a positive example to emulate. Boccaccio disparaged Leontion for criticising Theophrastus, arguing that her criticism was ‘a clear sign of an envious disposition’, although he admitted he had never seen Leontion’s writings himself to judge the content of her argument. Boccaccio also repeated the suggestion that Leontion was a prostitute, or at least wanton. Whereas some Late Antique authors interpreted rumours about Leontion’s past as a courtesan as proof that she rose to prominence from a humble background, Boccaccio claimed that Leontion must have been downwardly socially mobile. He argued that Leontion must have come from a noble family and later debased herself, because, as far as he was concerned, all clever people were born to noble families. The artists of manuscripts of the British Library’s French translations of the Book of Famous Women presented Leontion’s suitor as a distraction from her studies (even if Leontion’s gestures in some of the images might suggest to modern viewers that she was resisting the distraction).
Detail of Leontion or Léonce, Royal MS 16 G V, f. 74r
Debates over Leontion’s reputation, and the correctness of her argument, became a proxy for wider debates about women writers in late medieval western Europe. The poet Jean de Montreuil’s criticism of Leontion, in particular, may have been a thinly veiled attack on his contemporary female rival, Christine de Pizan (1364-1430).
Detail of Christine de Pizan in her study, from the Book of the Queen, Paris, c. 1410-1414, Harley MS 4431, f. 4r
Christine herself, however, was more positive in her appraisal of Leontion. In her City of Ladies (which may have used Boccaccio’s Book of Famous Women as a source), she characterized Leontion as ‘a great philosopher’ who quite rightly corrected Theophrastus for ‘serious reasons’.
Later imaginings of Leontion, from the Late Antique period to the later Middle Ages and beyond, were as variable and diverse as opinions on the place of women writers. The idea that Leontion was a courtesan could be interpreted as an admirable rags-to-riches story or as a deplorable failure of her education. Leontion’s criticism of a male thinker left her open to charges of impertinence, but was also viewed as an inspiration by later female writers. On one point everyone seems to have agreed: even the most critical portrayals of Leontion were obliged to acknowledge her intelligence. At the very least, medieval writers were impressed that they were still talking about Leontion, in some cases more than a millennium after her death. Boccaccio concluded, the ‘fame [of Leontion’s writing] has lasted throughout the centuries down to our own age; hence, we cannot say that the work was a trifle or showed a lack of ability’ (translated by Virginia Brown, Famous Women (Harvard University Press, 2001), p. 124).
Alison Hudson
08 August 2016
True Colours
Our friends at the Fitzwilliam Museum have recently opened a spectacular new exhibition, called Colour: The Art and Science of Illuminated Manuscripts. This exhibition showcases some of the Fitzwilliam's greatest manuscript treasures, integrated with scientific and art historical research into medieval painting materials and techniques.
The British Library is delighted to have been able to loan four of our own manuscripts to this show, which is open until 30 December 2016. We highly recommend that you make a special journey to Cambridge to view the exhibition, and to take in all these manuscripts in their breath-taking glory.
Add MS 5112, f. 134r: St John the Evangelist, from a gospel book (Byzantium, late 12th century)
This astonishingly beautiful miniature depicts St John the Evangelist, about to sharpen his quill with a knife while a blank codex rests on his lap. This is a particularly fine example of painting with gold leaf; the vermilion red and ultramarine blue of the drapery make a sharp contrast with the gold leaf, and help to distinguish between the gold background and the yellow building in the lower half of the portrait. The miniature itself was not created for the volume in which it was found, and the high quality of the materials and the painting technique strongly suggests a Constantinopolitan origin.
St John the Evangelist, from a gospel book (Byzantium, late 12th century): Add MS 5112, f. 134r
Harley MS 3915: Theophilus, De diversis artibus (NW Germany?, late 12th or early 13th century)
This medieval craft treatise contains instructions for painting, glassmaking and metalworking, as well as pigment recipes and painting instructions for manuscript illumination. The pages shown below describe the manufacture of 'salt green' followed by 'Spanish green', both of which are types of verdigris; next come the production methods for lead white (cerosa) and red lead (minium). Harley 3915 is the most complete and one of the oldest surviving copies of this treatise, the script and ornament of which suggest that it was made somewhere in North-West Germany. We had it digitised a few years ago as part of our Harley Science Project.
Making green, white and red pigments, in Theophilus, De diversis artibus (NW Germany?, late 12th or early 13th century): Harley MS 3915, ff. 18v–19r
Sloane MS 1975: A medical and herbal collection (France or England, late 12th century)
This medical treatise concludes with a series of illustrations of medical procedures. The spots represent cautery points, showing doctors where to apply hot irons to treat patients suffering from ailments such as toothache, fever and kidney disease. On the second page shown here, not for the squeamish, are operations to excise haemorrhoids, a nasal growth and cataracts. This manuscript belonged to the Cistercian monastery of Ourscamp in the 14th century, and it later entered the collection of Sir Hans Sloane (1660–1753).
Cautery points, in a medical collection (France or England, late 12th century): Sloane MS 1975, ff. 92v–93r)
Harley MS 4336: Boethius, De consolatio philosophiae (Bourges, 1476)
Produced in Bourges in 1476, this manuscript of Boethius's famous treatise, De consolatio philosophiae, is displayed open with this allegorical figure of Fortune, identifiable by the gold letters f emblazoned on her garment. The figures that surround her may represent two different families, one blessed and one cursed by Fortune, or a once prosperous household that has fallen on hard times.
Personification of Fortune, in Boethius, De consolatio philosophiae (Bourges, 1476): Harley MS 4336, f. 1v
Colour: The Art and Science of Illuminated Manuscripts is on at the Fitzwilliam Museum, Cambridge, until 30 December 2016.
05 August 2016
Medieval Selfies
It is tourist season here in London, so while dodging groups armed with selfie sticks and smart phones, it's easy to wish that selfies didn’t exist. (Apologies to anyone whose holiday photos have been accidentally photobombed by a befuddled British Library curator.) But such curmudgeonly attitudes to self-portraitists overlook the fact that selfies have existed for a very long time and offer unique insights into some brilliant and multi-talented artists.
Self-portrait of John Dee, mathematician, astronomer, occultist and adviser to Elizabeth I, from a genealogical roll, England, late 16th or early 17th century, Cotton Ch XIV 1
The Oxford English Dictionary limits the definition of ‘selfie’ to ‘photographic self-portraits’. However, if we extend the definition of ‘selfie’ to cover self-portraits made with pen and ink, selfies have existed in Britain for over 1000 years. One of the earliest known manuscript self-portraits to survive from England was made by St Dunstan, archbishop of Canterbury (d. 988), in the 10th century. He depicted himself kneeling before Christ in a manuscript now known as ‘St Dunstan’s Classbook’ (Oxford, Bodleian Library, Auct F.4.32).
How can we tell if an image is a self-portrait? First, we can sometimes identify an artist by analysing brushstrokes, penwork, design or the accompanying handwriting, especially if the artist is well-known or worked on other manuscripts. However, even if we can identify the artist, how can we be sure that an image was intended as a self-portrait, rather than as an image of somebody else? This is where captions come in handy. Most known self-portraits are identified by nearby text which states or suggests that an image depicts its own artist.
Detail of a self-portrait of Matthew Paris with his name, from the prefatory material to Matthew Paris’s Historia Anglorum, St Albans, c. 1250-1259, Royal MS 14 C VII, f. 6r
For example, the image above is a self-portrait of the noted medieval writer, scribe, artist and polymath Matthew Paris. We have other manuscripts which are known to have been copied by Matthew Paris, so we can be confident that the first part of this manuscript contains his handwriting and drawing. He also conveniently labelled this self-portrait of him kneeling beneath the Virgin and child: ‘Frater Mathias Parisiensis’.
Self-portrait of Matthew Paris kneeling beneath the Virgin and child, Royal MS 14 C VII, f. 6r
Similarly, red letters next to two historiated initials in a 13th-century Book of Hours (Add MS 49999) identify the self-portraits of William de Brailes, the book’s artist. William and his workshop are important as some of the earliest known producers of books in England who were not based in a religious institution. Although his self-portraits portray him with a tonsure, William did not depict himself wearing the habit of a religious order, and legal documents from Oxford suggest that he was based at a workshop on Catte Street, at the centre of the Oxford book trade. If selfies never existed, we would know much less about this important figure in the history of book production, and about the way he presented himself.
Self-portrait of William de Brailes, from the de Brailes Hours, Oxford, c. 1240, Add MS 49999, f. 43r
In other cases, unlabelled self-portraits have been identified with comparison to labelled self-portraits by the same artist. For example, some scholars claim the image below is a self-portrait of the artist John Siferwas or Cyfrewas (fl. 1380-1421) presenting a work to his patron John, Baron Lovell, because its features and content resemble a labelled self-portrait of Siferwas in the Sherborne Missal. Siferwas drew himself next to the Missal’s scribe, John Whas.
Left: possible self-portrait of John Siferwas with John, Baron Lovell, from the Lovell Lectionary, Glastonbury?, c. 1400-1410, Harley MS 7026, f. 4v Right: self-portrait of John Siferwas with John Whas, from the Sherborne Missal, Sherborne, c. 1399-1407, Add MS 74236, f. 276v
Other medieval images could be self-portraits, but this is more difficult to prove. Some scholars have argued that the Eadui Psalter contains a self-portrait of its scribe and possible artist, Eadwig (also spelled Eadui) Basan. Eadwig (fl.1012-1023), a monk of Christ Church Canterbury, was one of the most talented Anglo-Saxon scribes, writing charters, the Grimbald Gospels and part of the Harley Psalter, among other works. That said, there is no agreement whether Eadwig really depicted himself in this Psalter and, if he did, which figure he is supposed to be.
Miniature of monks presenting the Rule of St Benedict to St Benedict, with a prostrating figure, from the Eadui Psalter, Christ Church Canterbury, c. 1012-1023, Arundel MS 155, f. 133r
Some believe the figure kneeling at Benedict’s feet might be a self-portrait of Eadwig. Others argue that the prostrate figure could be a patron or could simply have been copied from an earlier exemplar. Still other historians have argued that Eadwig appears as a member of the crowd presenting a book to Benedict. Nevertheless, some of these figures seem a little slim to be Eadwig: it has been suggested that Eadwig’s second name, basan, was derived from a Hebrew word for ‘the fat’. Or maybe this was just a very flattering self-portrait!
Whereas modern selfie-takers are often stereotyped as vain and self-promoting, medieval selfies frequently involved a different type of self-promotion, one focused on humility before the divine and saints. In other contexts, medieval artists and writers emphasized the dangers of narcissism and of being too concerned with one’s own appearance. The story of Narcissus, the figure from Greek myth who became obsessed with his own reflection, was retold throughout the Middle Ages, notably in the Roman de la Rose.
Detail of Narcissus, from the Roman de la Rose, Bruges, c. 1490-1500, Harley MS 4425, f. 20r
So, you can see that self-portraiture is not strictly a modern phenomenon. If you come to the British Library’s current major exhibition, Shakespeare in Ten Acts (open until 6 September 2016), you can even view a possible self-portrait of Richard Burbage, the actor who first played Hamlet, Richard III, Othello and King Lear.
Alison Hudson
01 August 2016
A Calendar Page for August 2016
For more information about the Bedford Hours, please see our post for January 2016; for more on medieval calendars in general, our original calendar post is an excellent guide.
Calendar page for August from the Bedford Hours, France (Paris), c. 1410-1430, Add MS 18850, f. 8r
It’s a beautiful August on the pages of the Bedford Hours calendar.
Detail of miniatures of a man threshing wheat and the zodiac sign Virgo, from the calendar page for August, Add MS 18850, f. 8r
The month of August was one of heavy labour for medieval peasants, and at the bottom of the first folio for August we can see a man hard at work threshing wheat. The landscape surrounding him seems hotter and drier than in previous months, and this background is mirrored in the accompanying miniature. A young lady in blue appears to be saluting the noble peasant, for the zodiac sign Virgo.
Detail of a marginal roundel of Augustus, from the calendar page for August, Add MS 18850, f. 8r
At the bottom of the folio is a miniature that echoes that of Julius Caesar from the end of July, with a king seated on a throne, surrounded by his counsel (albeit without the treasonous murder). This is no accident, as this miniature is of Caesar Augustus (Octavian), Julius Caesar’s great-nephew and adopted heir. August was named after the said Augustus, as the rubrics tell us, for this ‘nephew of Julius wanted a month to be dedicated to him like his uncle’. And he apparently got his wish!
Calendar page for August, Add MS 18850, f. 8v
The emphasis on Caesar Augustus continues on the following folio. Adjoining the remainder of the saints’ days for August are two miniature roundels that illustrate additional episodes from the life of this Roman Emperor. At the middle left is a scene of battle; in the midst of this a gray-bearded man looks at the viewer in a similar way as the throne miniature – this may be Augustus himself. The rubrics tell us that this shows how ‘Augustus won victory from Anthony his comrade’, illustrating the defeat of Mark Antony and Cleopatra in 27 BC. Following this is a miniature of company travelling on horseback, many of whom are playing trumpets adorned with banners reading ‘paix’ (peace) in gold lettering. This mirrors the rubrics yet again, which describe how Augustus ‘gave peace to the whole world in his time’.
Detail of marginal roundels of Caesar in battle and bringing peace, from the calendar page for August, Add MS 18850, f. 8v
- Sarah J Biggs
30 July 2016
Caption Competition 6
It's time to get your thinking caps on again. Can you think of a witty caption for the image below, taken from one of the magnificent medieval manuscripts in the British Library's collections, the incomparable Gorleston Psalter?
Tweet us your suggestions to @BLMedieval, or add a comment at the foot of this post. There is no prize, but we will retweet and update this post with some of our favourite entries. Good luck!
Lovers of gastropods out there may want to check out our blogpost Knight v Snail. And you can also view the whole of the Gorleston Psalter, for free, on our Digitised Manuscripts site.
27 July 2016
Metaphors, Misogyny and Courtly Love
In the early 15th century, there was a major literary debate at the French court. Featuring crude language, naughty metaphors, courtly love, misogyny, poetry and early humanism, this debate was inspired by a text in some illuminated manuscripts which have just been loaded to the British Library's Digitised Manuscripts site. The controversial text was the continuation of the medieval best-seller, the Roman de la rose by Jean de Meun, written 40 years after Guillaume de Lorris wrote the first part of the Roman (c. 1230). Some writers, like Christine de Pizan, saw Jean de Meun’s conclusion of the Roman de la Rose as highly provocative, crude and misogynistic. For others, such as Jean de Montreuil, the continuation’s themes and naughty metaphors were just stylistic devices and an improvement of the poetic genre.
The Lover and la Vieille, Le Roman de la Rose, c. 1490-1500, Harley MS 4425, f. 129v
The debate took place between the king’s secretaries, clerks and Christine de Pizan between 1401 and 1405. It began with a short treatise composed in 1401 by Jean de Montreuil, the humanist and secretary of Charles VI and Provost of St Peter of Lille. In this text, now lost, Montreuil praised the Roman de la Rose and more particularly the part written by Jean de Meun. Jean de Montreuil was supported by his close friend Gontier Col, another secretary of Charles VI, and by Gontier’s brother, Pierre Col, canon of Notre-Dame.
Christine de Pizan writing in her study, from the Book of the Queen, France (Paris), c. 1410-1414, Harley MS 4431, f. 4r
By contrast, Christine de Pizan, a famous author at the court of Charles V and Charles VI, was a fierce opponent of the continuation of the Roman de la Rose by Jean de Meun, partly because of its misogynistic passages and lack of decency:
Mais en accordant a l’oppinion a laquelle contrediséz, sans faille a mon avis, trop traicte deshonnestment en aucunes pars – et mesmement ou personnage que il claime Raison, laquelle nommes les secréz membres plainement par nom.
'According to the viewpoint you oppose, in my opinion, he writes in several places in an indecent manner, even when he speaks as the character he calls Reason and names the secret parts explicitly.'
The monologue of Raison is one of the problematic passages Christine de Pizan underlined. She also objected to the story of the castration of Saturn and the explicit metaphor of the picking of the Rose. She also defended women, who were depicted by Jean de Meun in passages involving allegorical figures like le Jaloux (the jealous one) and la Vieille (the old woman), as keepers of several sins:
Regardons oultre un petit : en quel maniere puet estre vallable et a bonne fin ce que tant et si excessivement, impettueusement et tres nonveritablement il accuse, blame et diffame femmes de pluseurs tres grans vices et leurs meurs temoingne estre plains de toute perversité.
'Furthermore, let us consider a little bit: what can be of value and of good quality when he excessively, impetuously and most untruthfully blames and accuses women of several serious vices and he claims their behaviour is full of perversion.'
According to her, this was not representative of the allegorical character of the Roman de la Rose but was rather the author’s opinion.
During the quarrel several letters were exchanged between Jean de Montreuil, Christine de Pizan, Pierre Col and Jean Gerson and others including a high-ranking prelate and a poet. Pizan was supported by Jean Gerson, chancellor of the University of Paris. The debate was an epistolary exercise within a changing literary movement: more than a simple quarrel, it was a literary controversy. On one side, there were the supporters of morality and of courtly love, including Christine de Pizan and Jean Gerson. On the other, there were the first French humanists such as Jean de Montreuil, promoting a new vernacular poetry. In the background, there was a literary movement for the codification of courtly literature initiated by the Burgundians under the patronage of Charles VI. Known as the Cour Amoureuse (1400), this movement took the form of a gathering of ecclesiastics, nobles and bourgeois at court, who advocated ‘joieuse recreacion et amoureuse conversation’ (‘happy recreation and lovely conversation’) with poetical plays and courtly songs.
Garden of pleasure, from the Roman de la Rose, Low Countries (Bruges), c. 1490-1500, Harley MS 4425, f. 12v
The participants took this literary debate very seriously. In 1402, Christine de Pizan gathered together all the letters involved in the debate and submitted them to Queen Isabeau of Bavaria and Guillaume de Tignonville (Provost of Paris) for arbitration under the title, Epistres sur le Roman de la Rose. In the same year, she wrote the Dit de la Rose, a poem of 650 lines dedicated to Charles VI’s brother, Louis d’Orléans, duke of Orléans. The allegorical character Loyauté, under the tutelage of Amour, founds the movement the Ordre de la Rose (which was based on the Cour Amoureuse of Charles VI). This Ordre de la Rose aims to defend women against slander. However, the Ordre de la Rose was designed as a circle where women played a central role, as opposed to the Cour Amoureuse which had the same purpose, to honour women, but was almost exclusively composed of men.
The quarrel finally came to an end with a new work by Christine de Pizan, La cité des Dames (1403-1404), which told the stories of virtuous women in the Bible and in French history. In addition to this, Jean Gerson produced several sermons on deadly sin and especially lust, which he used to condemn the Roman de la Rose.
Christine de Pizan presenting her book to Queen Isabeau of Bavaria, from Harley MS 4431, f. 3r.
The quarrel was relatively short-lived, lasting only a few years; however, it had a major impact on literature and manuscript production. Not only did it inspire one of the most enduring works of medieval literature—the Cité des Dames – it also impacted manuscript production. Later, Christine de Pizan solicited the help of the Queen once again, this time for a highly illuminated book that Christine supervised (now Harley MS 4431) which is mainly a compilation of her own works. She presented this manuscript to Isabeau of Bavaria in 1414. Ironically, the above controversy drew attention to the second part of the Roman de la Rose, the part by Jean de Meun. It had been generally neglected by illuminators but from that period onwards it was illuminated more frequently.
Laure Miolo
25 July 2016
Star Item: An Early Medieval Sketch of the Planets
When people living over a 1000 years ago looked into the sky, how did they interpret what they saw? Helen Sharman and Tim Peake may be the first two Britons to actually go to outer space, but people living in the British Isles and Europe have been picturing the galaxy for a very long time. We have an idea of how some medieval people thought of the galaxy thanks to a recently digitised 10th-century manuscript that contains an early diagram of the solar system.
Diagram of the planets’ orbits, from Isidore of Seville’s De Natura Rerum, England (St Augustine’s Abbey, Canterbury?), Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 23v
The accompanying text explains that this diagram represents the ‘position of the seven wandering stars … called planets by the Greeks.’ These are the moon, which orbits closest to Earth; Mercury; Lucifer, ‘which is also called Venus’; the Sun; Vesper, which is also associated with Mars; Foeton, 'which they call Jupiter'; and ‘cold’ Saturn.
Detail of a diagram of the planets' orbits, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 23r
The diagram and text come from a 10th-century copy of On the Nature of Things (De Natura Rerum) by Isidore of Seville (d. 636). De Natura Rerum is a natural history of the material world. Isidore was inspired by classical writers such as Lucretius (d. c. 55 BC), who sought to combat superstition by offering explanations for natural phenomena.
Phases of the moon, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 20r
Isidore updated his classical models by adding a Christian framework and a series of diagrams to illustrate his text. Manuscripts of De Natura Rerum such as Cotton MS Domitian A I contain so many of these diagrams, which are often circular, that Isidore’s work was often referred to as ‘The Book of Wheels’ (Liber Rotarum).
Diagram of the four elements: earth, air, water and fire, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 13r
Beyond the solar system, the copy of De Natura Rerum in Cotton MS Domitian A I includes diagrams to explain everything from rainbows to latitudes to the humours.
A circular diagram showing the winds linked to the months, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 31r
Many of these diagrams link various natural phenomena. One diagram connects different winds to different months. Another groups each of the four elements with a season, a temperature and one of the four humours: choler (yellow bile), melancholy (black bile), blood, and phlegm.
Diagram of the four humours, elements, and seasons, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f.14r
While concepts such as the humours now seem alien to us, other diagrams in Isidore’s work represent concepts that are still familiar. One wheel depicts five temperate zones by latitude, noting that the poles were colder, uninhabitable regions, and temperatures became warmer as one travelled towards the centre of the map. These diagrams even employ terms which we use today, including ‘Arctic’ and ‘Antarctic’.
Diagrams of the five temperature zones and of latitudes, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 12v
Isidore’s works were widely studied in early medieval Europe. This particular manuscript was made in 10th-century England, but Isidore’s works were known there much earlier. The 8th-century Northumbrian monk Bede even wrote his own version of De Natura Rerum.
A diagram representing a rainbow, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 28v
This particular manuscript was probably owned, and possibly made for, a man called Æthelstan, whose collection of books is listed on f. 55v. ‘De Natura Rerum’ is the first book in the list. Æthelstan also owned several works by the 4th-century grammarian Donatus, various treatises on grammar and the art of poetry, and one ‘gerim’, which was possibly a calendar or a text on calculation, ‘which was the priest Ælfwold’s.’ Æthelstan's precise identity is unknown, since this was a common name in late 10th-century England, when this book and list were copied. He probably was not the early 10th-century king called Æthelstan, since the manuscript and its booklist were probably written after King Æthelstan's death in 939. Nevertheless, the Æthelstan of the book list was evidently a man of some wealth: all manuscripts were expensive, and this copy of De Natura Rerum has colour diagrams and a little gold, for highlighting the stars in the solar system. Judging from his booklist, he was also highly educated, with a particular interest in grammar and language.
Booklist, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 55v
As an educated Latinist, Æthelstan would have fitted into some of the most influential circles in 10th-century England. This was a time of great manuscript production and learning, thanks to the encouragement and book collecting of cosmopolitan rulers such as King Æthelstan (d. 939) and of monastic reformers, who sought to increase standards of learning in English religious houses. Æthelstan the Grammarian’s manuscript of De Natura Rerum seems to be related to those developments because it uses the Caroline minuscule script closely associated with the reformed monasteries. However, Æthelstan may not have been a monastic reformer himself: his book list shows he had private property, which was technically forbidden to monastic reformers. Admittedly, this need not disqualify him from having been a reformer: even the notably strict reforming bishop Æthelwold was personally associated with a particular service book.
In the late medieval period, the manuscript was kept in the library of St Augustine’s Abbey, Canterbury, where it may have been used by members of that institution.
Isidore’s T-O map of Asia, Africa, Europe, Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 37r
Once the deluxe possession of a well educated man, then part of an institutional library, this copy of De Natura Rerum is now available in full online on our Digitised Manuscripts site. Modern people may use it differently, but some of its topics and diagrams — particularly the striking diagram of the solar system — remind us that we are not so very different from early medieval people in the questions we ask about the world around us.
Drawing of the sun, from Cotton MS Domitian A I, f. 17r
Alison Hudson
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