01 January 2018
A calendar page for January 2018
2018 is going to be an exciting year at the British Library: as we recently announced, our major Anglo-Saxon Kingdoms exhibition opens on 19 October. In the coming months we will be exploring an item from the upcoming exhibition, an 11th-century calendar illustrated with text in gold and drawings depicting seasonal activities. We hope some of our readers will be able to come and see it in person in the exhibition at the end of the year. For an explanation of medieval calendars, please see the introduction to our first calendar of the year.
Page for January, from a calendar, England, 1st half of the 11th century: Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 3r
This calendar is one of only two to survive from early medieval England with detailed illustrations of farming, hunting and feasting. It forms part of a collection of material for calculating time and dates, such as tables for calculating lunar cycles and a tiny world map. It was probably owned by a monastic community who needed timekeeping materials to maintain the strict schedule of services demanded by the Rule of St Benedict. The calendar is now bound with a copy of poems, the Expositio hymnorum and canticles, copied at a slightly later date. They may have been together even in the medieval period. Both the hymnal and the calendar seem to have been made by talented scribes at a major scriptorium, such as that at Christ Church Cathedral, Canterbury.
Diagram pertaining to lunar cycles, centring on a tiny world map: Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 15r
Both the text and illustrations are closely related to the calendar in a collection of geographical and chronological material made in southern England in the mid-11th century (Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1). Both feature the Metrical Calendar of Hampson, a poem with 365 verses, one for each day of the year. The illustrations for the various labours of the month are very similar as well. Both show ploughing scenes, each having three figures, with a bearded man guiding the plough.
Men ploughing: Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 3r
Men ploughing: Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1, f. 3r
Some scholars have speculated that these images may be rare manuscript depictions of Anglo-Saxon slaves. In a dialogue written to help students practise Latin, the Anglo-Saxon writer Ælfric (fl. 980s-1000s) has the ploughman lament, ‘The work is hard, because I am not free.’
Detail of the ploughman’s dialogue, from Ælfric’s Colloquy: Cotton MS Tiberius A III, f. 61r
Ploughing might seem like an odd choice to depict on a calendar page for January, when the weather is cold and the ground is hard. Some scholars argue that ploughing came first in the calendar because it was a fundamental part of the agricultural cycle and also because the imagery of ploughing was used in religious symbolism. In the Bible, teachers and religious leaders are compared to people scattering seeds (Matthew 13), like the man walking behind the plough. As the users of this calendar — possibly a community of monks — prepared for the year ahead, the image of a plough may have focused their minds on practical priorities.
Capricorn: Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 3r
Capricorn: Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1, f. 3r
Beyond the labours of the month, each page of the calendar includes a wealth of information about astronomy, time, astrology and history, packed into pages only 200 by 130 mm. Each page begins with a few lines about the zodiac signs associated with each month. Nearby, a roundel illustrates the zodiac sign for a given month. In the case of January, it is Capricorn. Medieval scribes depicted star signs including Capricorn in creative and diverse ways. In the Julius calendar, Capricorn has a fish-like tail, in contrast to the Tiberius calendar, where it is depicted with hooves.
Below, each day is represented by one row. Each row includes, among other things:
- Roman numerals representing 'Golden Numbers', which were used to determine lunar cycles in a given year.
- Greek letters, representing numbers used for calculations. Greek letters were used in calculations by early medieval scholars including Bede and Abbo of Fleury.
- The letters A–G in blue, representing different days of the week.
- Roman calendar days (kalends, nones and ides).
- A verse for the day, from the Metrical Calendar of Hampson.
- A gold cross, if the day coincided with a special feast day. The only feast day marked out on this page is 6 January. Judging from surviving descriptions of liturgy and hymnals from Thorney, Winchester and Exeter, services for Epiphany in tenth- and eleventh-century England were elaborate affairs, commemorating not only the Magi’s visit to Christ on that day, but also his baptism and the miracle at the wedding at Cana, where Christ turned water into wine.
Detail of calendar page: Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 3r
Detail of gold crosses marking special feast days: Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 5r
Alison Hudson
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
Part of the Polonsky Digitisation Project
Supported by
30 December 2017
Digging for inscriptions in medieval manuscripts
Inscriptions are one of the key sources for understanding premodern history. Monuments carved in stone could outlast even the most carefully preserved papyri, and there are thousands of people in ancient times that go completely undocumented save for a single inscribed memorial. But monuments were subject to the elements, destroyed, and reused as building materials. We can look for evidence of lost inscriptions in medieval and early modern manuscripts.
Inscriptions copied after the Vitae Patrum: Add MS 34758, f. 311r
Interest in inscriptions never completely died away during the Middle Ages. The Carolingians preserved some of the most important collections of inscriptions, such as that in Einsiedeln, Stiftsbibliothek, Codex 326(1076). Within the field of epigraphy (the study of inscriptions), these are called a ‘sylloge’. Such collections might be found as part of a travelogue, or simply copied as a note with an unrelated text. British Library Harley MS 3685, ff. 3r–5v, includes an important witness of the inscriptions Pope Damasus designed for the new Roman catacombs of the martyrs, now destroyed. Add MS 34758 was made at the monastery of St Andrew in Rome in the late 14th or early 15th century: after a copy of the Lives of the Desert Fathers comes two pages of inscriptions from Rome relating to its emperors (f. 311r–v). This text was copied in the same hand as what precedes it: either it was of interest to the original compiler, or it was copied along with the rest from an earlier manuscript. It shares some features with a well-known sylloge by Niccolò Signorili, suggesting a common source.
A stray inscription: Royal MS 12 B XXII, f. 2r
Other inscriptions end up in manuscripts almost by accident. In Royal MS 12 B XXII, a copy of Calcidius’s Latin translation of Plato’s Timaeus, an inscription from the time of the Emperor Hadrian, datable between 10 December 123 and 9 December 124, has been included at f. 2r. It was likely written into the margin of an earlier copy, and was copied along with the rest as if it were a rubric or heading. This inscription was not known from any other sources before a reader noticed it in the 20th century.
The most visually impressive example of manuscript epigraphy in the British Library is Stowe MS 1016, made by the scribe Bartolomeo Sanvito (1433–1511) some time after 1502. It includes a copy of a sylloge by his friend Fra Giovanni Giocondo, here in its third recension: he continued to revise the text as he saw new inscriptions. The results are stunning, even if some of the coloured monuments speak more of Renaissance than Classical tastes.
The use of manuscripts for finding evidence about inscriptions is best known for Roman epigraphy, but it continues to be applicable in the modern day. Many inscriptions of Aphrodisias are best preserved in the notebooks made by William Sherard in 1705–16 while he was British consul at Smyrna (Add MSS 10101–2), with fair copies in Harley MS 7509. Ancient monuments continue to be threatened by war, neglect and pollution. Such documents are a poignant reminder of the importance of preserving the past while there is still time.
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
29 December 2017
Thomas Becket's martyrdom
29 December is the anniversary of one of the most controversial events in medieval Christendom: the murder at Canterbury Cathedral of Archbishop Thomas Becket, in 1170. Becket's assassination brought a bloody end to a long-standing political conflict between the archbishop and King Henry II, who was believed to have been implicit in the killing. In the following decades, an international cult grew up around Becket, with far-flung claims of miracle cures and the re-building of the cathedral to house the martyr's tomb.
Two of the earliest illustrations of Becket's murder, both made in the late 12th century, are found in manuscripts held at the British Library. One of these manuscripts, Cotton MS Claudius B II, has recently been digitised in full by The Polonsky Foundation England and France, 700-1200 project; the other, also available online, is found in Harley MS 5102.
An early miniature showing Thomas Becket’s martyrdom: Cotton MS Claudius B II, f. 341r
A second early miniature showing Thomas Becket’s martyrdom. Becket kneels before the altar, and one of the four knights, perhaps William de Tracy, delivers the first blow, which cuts into the arm of Edward Grim, the cross-bearer; Reginald FitzUrse (identified by the muzzled bear on his shield) strikes the top of Becket's head: Harley MS 5102, f. 32r
The first of these manuscripts was made for Cirencester Abbey, and it contains a collection of Thomas Becket’s letters, assembled by Alan of Tewkesbury. It was made in the 1180s, within twenty years of Becket’s death, when his memory was fresh and his fame was expanding quickly. The makers of this book gave it the kind of luxury treatment associated with the holiest texts. An exquisitely decorated initial, shown below, marks the beginning of the preface, John of Salisbury's Life of Becket. John was a close associate of Becket, and the Life was composed within two years of the archbishop's death.
The opening of John of Salisbury’s Life of Thomas Becket. Click on this link and hover over the image to reveal interactive annotations: Cotton MS Claudius B II, f. 2r
The initial 'P' is extravagantly decorated with blue, pink and green vine scrolls inhabited by peering quadrupeds (which remind us of Dr Seuss). Two monstrous faces decorate the stem and bow of the initial. The top and bottom of the stem terminate in ribbon interlace. The whole initial, which looks in the flesh like coloured wire laid over liquid gold, is presented on a patterned background of dark pink quatrefoils with a gilded border. When crafted, the gilding would have been applied first and then the gaps meticulously filled with pigment. The de-luxe treatment is reminiscent of the treatment of the Lives of other, more established saints, and could perhaps have been understood as an expression of Becket's bona fide sanctity. You can read more about one of the scribes of this manuscript in our blogpost, Where's Wally?
The second manuscript comprises a series of five full-page miniatures inserted in an early 13th-century Psalter, perhaps made in the East Midlands of England. The burial of a cleric, perhaps Becket himself, forms the subject of one of the other miniatures.
Miniature of the burial of a cleric, perhaps Thomas Becket. The upper right monk is holding a white object in his hand, perhaps a fragment of the saint's skull, which had been shattered when he was murdered: Harley MS 5102, f. 17r
Here we can see the two images of Becket's martyrdom side-by-side. There are several contemporary and near-contemporary accounts, some of them by eyewitnesses, of the events in Canterbury Cathedral on the evening of 29 December 1170. These two manuscripts reinforce certain elements of the story — the number of assailants, Becket kneeling before the altar, his companions watching from the wings — and they bring us as close as may ever be possible to visualise Thomas Becket's martyrdom, though medieval eyes.
Two early witnesses to Becket's martyrdom: Cotton MS Claudius B II, f. 341r and Harley MS 5102, f. 32r
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
Part of the Polonsky Digitisation Project
Supported by
28 December 2017
A poem for literally all seasons
As followers of the @BLMedieval Twitter account know, some of us are fond of the hashtag #OTD. Short for ‘On this day’, it is used to recall which historical events took place on a given date. It’s a great excuse to highlight items from the British Library’s collections. In a way, it’s also rather medieval. When Benedictine monks assembled for their daily chapter meetings, they would have read an excerpt from a martyrology about which saints were commemorated that day and the next. Some medieval calendars included entries for every single day, and one of those is known as the Metrical Calendar of Hampson.
The entries for December, from the oldest copy of the Metrical Calendar of Hampson, Winchester?, 1st quarter of the 10th century, Cotton MS Galba A XVIII, f. 14r
The metrical calendar of Hampson survives in four manuscripts, all made in England in the 10th or 11th century (and three of which are held at the British Library). It takes its name from R.T. Hampson, its 19th-century editor. The calendar comprises 365 verses, one for each day of the year. To take account of leap years, medieval calendars added a second 24 February, instead of adding an extra day at the end of the month, known as 29 February.
The oldest surviving copy was made in England in the first decades of the 10th century. It was added to a 9th-century Psalter from the region that is now France (Cotton Galba A XVIII). The poem mostly lists saints commemorated on each day, but it also includes information about the movement of the moon and planets and some versions note the deaths of King Alfred and his queen, Ealhswith. The poet(s) sometimes had to stretch to fill some days. For example, the entry for 28 February roughly translates as, ‘This is the last day of February.’ In other instances, however, the poet(s) used vivid, memorable imagery. The feast of the Assumption of the Virgin on 15 August was described as the day the Virgin Mary ‘crossed over to the stars.’ Meanwhile, 29 August was listed as the day John the Baptist’s ‘neck was truncated with a sharp sword’.
The entries for September, from a calendar, 11th century, Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1, f. 7r
There are two more versions from the first half of the 11th century, both associated with Canterbury or another major scriptorium: Cotton MS Julius A VI and Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1. Cotton MS Julius A VI contains a series of scientific diagrams and tables, now bound with a hymnal made a decade or two later. Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1 includes a range of texts on astronomy, geography and chronology, and includes an early world map. The fourth, abbreviated copy of the metrical calendar is found in an early 10th-century Psalter (Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Junius 27).
The entries for August, including the feasts of the Assumption and the Decollation of John the Baptist, from a calendar, Canterbury?, 11th century, Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 6v
The origin of this poem is debated. It includes many Irish and northern French or Flemish saints, leading some to claim that it was composed by an Irish or continental scholar working in England. There were certainly plenty of candidates: the inhabitants of several northern French churches fled to England following viking raids in the late 9th and early 10th century, while many Irish and continental scholars stayed at the West Saxon court. Alternatively, the surviving poem may have been based on calendars composed elsewhere but modified by someone working in England.
The date when the earliest surviving version of the poem was compiled is slightly easier to narrow down. The oldest copy was made after Alfred's wife, Ealhswith, died in 902, since it mentions her death in the verse for 5 December: ‘The fifth [day] has dear Ealhswith, true lady of the English’.
Ealhswith’s death mentioned in Cotton MS Galba A XVIII, f. 14r
However, there could have been earlier versions of the poem. The references to Ealhswith and Alfred could have been added later and, indeed, one of the later calendars (Cotton MS Julius A VI) omits them. Instead of Ealhswith, the entry for 5 December in that calendar commemorates ‘dear Candida, true lady of the Franks’.
Verse about Candida, from Cotton MS Julius A VI, f. 8v
The precise origins of the poem remains a mystery. However, the surviving copies show that the calendar continued to be read and copied for well over a century. It’s easy to see the appeal of a calendar with a verse for literally every occasion. Even to this day, we are fascinated by events which happened #OTD. At least we don’t have to write our tweets in verse!
Alison Hudson
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
26 December 2017
You cannot be Sirius
Fans of a certain boy wizard will be familiar with Sirius Black, Harry Potter’s beloved godfather. In the Harry Potter books, Sirius Black was an Animagus, with the ability to turn into a shaggy-haired black dog. This is no coincidence, as his name was inspired by Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky, which lies in the constellation known as Canis major (The Greater Dog). The British Library's exhibition Harry Potter: A History of Magic explores the history, mythology and folklore behind the Harry Potter stories, and we are delighted that it features a wonderful 12th-century astronomical treatise (Cotton MS Tiberius C I), containing an elaborate illustration and description of the constellation Sirius.
The constellation of Sirius the Dog Star, from Cotton MS Tiberius C I, f. 28r
This manuscript was produced at the Benedictine abbey of St Peter, St Paul and St Andrew in Peterborough, sometime in the early decades of the 12th century. The astronomical treatise it contains is known as the Aratea, being a Latin translation (by Marcus Tullius Cicero) of the Phaenomena by Aratus of Soli. The description of each constellation is accompanied by a pen-drawing of either human or animal figures, with red dots representing the stars. In this instance, the constellation Sirius takes the shape of a dog, with the words written in black ink.
The body of Sirius (and the other figures in this manuscript) is infilled with an account of the origins and history of each constellation. They comprise quotations from the Astronomica written by Hyginus, an astronomical source-book. Sirius, from the Greek seirios aster, meaning ‘scorching star’, was thought to have been named by the Egyptian goddess Isis, because the star shone more brightly than any other. The dog days of summer were so-called because the hottest days of the year traditionally coincided when the Dog Star ascended to rise before the Sun, from late July until August.
The constellation of Orion, from Cotton MS Tiberius C I, f. 27v
Sirius was also said to be the hunting dog of Orion. The constellation Orion is portrayed in the same manuscript as a man inside a house. According to the Astronomica of Hyginus, Orion was accidentally slain by the goddess Diana, as the result of a challenge that she could not hit him with one of her hunting arrows. To mourn his death, she placed him among the constellations. Bellatrix, meaning ‘female warrior’, is the third brightest star in the Orion constellation. Other figures in the night sky include the Hare, the Eagle, the Swan and the Centaur. The last-named was believed to be highly skilled in augury, that is, the interpretation of omens.
The centaur was highly skilled in the interpretation of omens: the Centaur constellation, from Cotton MS Tiberius C I, f. 31v
Would you like to stargaze more? This illustrated Aratea has been digitised by the Polonsky Foundation England and France, 700-1200 project. It is now available to view online on our Digitised Manuscripts site. Two other copies of the Aratea can also be seen in full there, one made in 9th-century France and later taken to Canterbury (Harley MS 647) and the other made at Fleury around the year 1000 (Harley MS 2506).
Meanwhile, the wonderful manuscript illustrated above is currently on display in the Astronomy section of the British Library’s major exhibition, Harry Potter: A History of Magic. Tickets can be purchased online, but they are selling extremely fast. The show has to end on 28 February, so catch it while you can.
Alison Ray
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
Part of the Polonsky Digitisation Project
Supported by
24 December 2017
Illuminating the medieval Nativity
One of the British Library's newly digitised manuscripts is well worth a look this Christmas-time (Cotton MS Caligula A VII/1). It was made somewhere in North-East France or Flanders in the 12th century, and it contains eight sumptuous scenes from the early life of Christ. This cycle of images presumably once served as the preface for either a Psalter or a gospel-book.
Here we take a closer look at three key scenes in this manuscript: the Nativity, the Annunciation to the Shepherds and the Adoration of the Magi. Each illuminated page has a luxurious golden background and the artist has used a gorgeously vibrant palette. The miniature of the Nativity has three distinct parts. In the main compartment, Mary is shown resting with the swaddled infant. Below, the midwives bathe the new-born, and beside them Christ is shown in the manger, overseen by an ox and an ass.
The Nativity: Cotton MS Caligula A VII/1, f. 5r
In the following image, the angels’ appearance to the astonished shepherds offers a visual feast. Note the rich, varied tones used for their wings and robes. One angel relates the good news of the child in the manger. Above, in the celestial realm, the words of a modern Christmas Carol spring to mind, ‘Ding-dong merrily the sky, is riven with angels singing: ‘Gloo-o-o-ria! In Excelsis Deo!’
The Annunciation to the Shepherds: Cotton MS Caligula A VII/1, f. 6v
In keeping with wider artistic traditions, the three magi, crowned as kings, are portrayed as the three ages of man.
The Adoration of the Magi: Cotton MS Caligula A VII/1, f. 9r
The eldest wise man, usually Caspar, is shown offering his gift of gold. Look how carefully the artist has rendered his white locks of hair, his lined face and his full beard.
The aged Caspar: Cotton MS Caligula A VII/1, f. 9r
The full cycle of eight images comprises: the Annunciation (f. 3r); the Visitation (f. 4v); the Nativity (f. 5r); the Annunciation to the Shepherds (f. 6v); the Massacre of the Innocents (f. 7r); the Presentation in the Temple (f. 8v), the Adoration of the Magi (f. 9r); and the Baptism of Christ (f. 10v). We invite you to explore the full sequence on our Digitised Manuscripts site.
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
Part of the Polonsky Digitisation Project
Supported by
20 December 2017
It must be witchcraft
The blockbuster exhibition at the British Library this winter is magical in more ways than one. Harry Potter: A History of Magic features not only original items from J.K. Rowling's own archive and some of the Library's precious manuscripts, but also a number of items borrowed from the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic at Boscastle. We are indebted to the Museum of Witchcraft for their generosity in lending us real witches' cauldrons, broomsticks and wands, alongside crystal balls and a scrying mirror. All of these magical objects help to contextualise the principal theme of this exhibition: that the Harry Potter novels are founded upon centuries of historical tradition, mythology and folklore.
This broomstick is one of our favourite exhibits. It belonged to Olga Hunt, of Manaton in Devon. So the story goes, Olga used to delight in riding her broomstick on Haytor Rocks on Dartmoor every Full Moon, jumping out on unsuspecting campers and courting couples.
A broomstick belonging to the 20th-century witch, Olga Hunt (©The Museum of Witchcraft and Magic, Boscastle)
This serpentine wand is also in the exhibition, thanks to the kindness of the Museum of Witchcraft. In magical tradition, snakes represent the duality between good and evil (and if you were going to own a wand, what better than having a wand in the shape of a snake?). We have placed it next to one of the British Library's own medieval manuscripts, showing a 'wizard' charming a serpent.
A serpentine wand (©The Museum of Witchcraft and Magic, Boscastle)
This medieval bestiary describes several mythological snakes, including the cerastes (a horned serpent) and the scitalis (with incredible markings on its back). It then focuses on the emorroris, a type of asp so-called because its bite causes haemorrhages; the victim sweat outs their own blood until they die. The manuscript goes on to explain that the asp can be caught if a conjurer sings to it in its cave, making it fall asleep. This allows the snake charmer (shown holding what seems to be a wand) to remove the precious stone that grows on the asp’s forehead.
A snake charmer, in a bestiary (England, 13th century): British Library Royal MS 12 C XIX, f. 67r
Another impressive object in Harry Potter: A History of Magic is this cauldron. According to the Museum of Witchcraft, it exploded when three witches were attempting to conjure up a spirit on the beach. They fled in terror, and the cauldron was only later retrieved from where it had landed on the rocks.
An exploded cauldron (©The Museum of Witchcraft and Magic, Boscastle)
There are a number of Museum of Witchcraft items in the Divination section of the exhibition, including a scrying mirror, which once belonged to the witch, Cecil Williamson (d. 1999). He warned that, if you gaze into it, ‘and suddenly see someone standing behind you, whatever you do, do not turn around’. Also in the same room is this palmistry hand, which accompanies a 14th-century treatise on chiromancy. On the right hand of this medieval manuscript, a vertical line running across the palm reads, ‘this line represents love’. A vertical line running between the middle and index finger has a less fortunate meaning: ‘This line signifies a bloody death and if the line reaches unto the middle of the finger it signifies a sudden death.’ Other lines predict ailments and diseases, such as eye problems and the plague, and mental traits, such as courage, humility and infidelity.
A palmistry hand (©The Museum of Witchcraft and Magic, Boscastle)
A fortune-telling manuscript (England, 14th century): British Library Royal MS 12 C XII, f. 107r
Harry Potter: A History of Magic is on at the British Library until 28 February 2018. We are extremely grateful to our partners (The Blair Partnership, Pottermore, Bloomsbury Publishing, Google Arts and Culture) for their support, as well as to our many lenders for helping to make the exhibition so magical.
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
17 December 2017
A medieval recipe for gingerbread
‘Tis the season to be merry, and what better way to celebrate than enjoy a festive treat of gingerbread. A medieval recipe for gingerbread features in a 15th-century English cookery book of extravagant banquets held at the British Library (Harley MS 279). Unlike our modern cake or biscuit-like version of gingerbread, the medieval recipe is more similar to confectionery in texture but experts agree that it will satisfy any sweet-tooth.
The opening of a medieval recipe for gingerbread, from Harley MS 279, f. 27v
Continued: a medieval recipe for gingerbread, from Harley MS 279, f. 28r
Gyngerbrede-
Take a quart of hony, & seethe it, & skyme
it clene. take Safroun pouder Pepir, & throw ther-on. take gra-
tyd Bred, & make it so chargeaunt that it wol be y lechyd.
then take pouder Canelle, & straw ther on y now. then make yt
square, lyke as thou wolt leche yt. take when thou lechyst hyt
an caste Box leves a bouyn y stykyd ther on. on clowys. And
if thou wolt haue it Red coloure it with Saunderys y now.
The recipe calls for honey, saffron and powdered pepper to be mixed with grated bread. Cinnamon is then added before the gingerbread is shaped and cut into slices, and finally decorated with box leaves attached to cloves. If you wish to colour the gingerbread red, you may add saunders (sandlewood) as dye.
Miniature of a zinziber, or ginger plant (left) with a zedoary, or turmeric plant, from a medieval herbal, Egerton MS 747, f. 105v
Keen-eyed readers may have noticed that the recipe is missing one key ingredient – ginger! We can speculate that this ingredient may have been left out accidentally by the scribe, but we cannot know for sure. Ginger was a popular spice in more luxurious medieval culinary recipes, especially winter dishes. Along with cinnamon, nutmeg and pepper, ginger was believed to have heating properties, and it was thought to be able to warm the stomach and aid the digestive process. These spices are still found in modern Christmas dinner recipes, so medieval gingerbread will complement your holiday roast nicely.
Miniature of a banquet with courtiers, servants, and dogs, from Harley MS 4372, f. 215v
Alison Ray
Follow us on Twitter @BLMedieval
Medieval manuscripts blog recent posts
- Joan of Arc at the British Library
- Requesting a raise: the petition of Joan Astley
- Birgitta's marvellous marginalia
- Medieval witches
- Keeping a cat and other rules for anchoresses
- Medieval Women well and truly open
- Countdown to Medieval Women
- Maidens or monsters?
- Our first 1000 digitised manuscripts return
- Medieval Women: 1 Month to Go!
Archives
Tags
- Africa
- Alexander exhibition
- Ancient
- Anglo-Saxons
- Animals
- Black & Asian Britain
- British Library Treasures
- Calendars
- Classics
- Decoration
- Digital scholarship
- Early modern
- Elizabeth and Mary exhibition
- English
- Events
- Exhibitions
- Fashion
- Featured manuscripts
- French
- Gold exhibition
- Greek
- Harry Potter
- Humanities
- Illuminated manuscripts
- International
- Ireland
- Latin
- Law
- Leonardo
- LGBTQ+
- Literature
- Magna Carta
- Manuscripts
- Maps
- Medieval
- Medieval history
- Medieval women
- Middle East
- Middle east
- Modern history
- Music
- Olympics
- Palaeography
- Polonsky
- Printed books
- Rare books
- Research collaboration
- Romance languages
- Royal
- sacred texts
- Sacred texts
- Science
- Scotland
- Slavonic
- South East Asia
- Visual arts
- Women's histories
- Writing