Some time ago I was alone in the office on a Friday evening and was left in charge of the @BLMedieval Twitter account. This is sometimes dangerous. Among my sillier inventions is the hashtag #WodewoseWednesday, which created a low-velocity Twitter storm as people sent us images of endearing, furry Wildmen (or Wodewoses) from manuscripts across the world. By the end of that day, Twitter had reduced me to near hysterical giggles and I wondered if I might have to lie down under my desk. 

It all started quite innocently on the Friday in question, when Johan Oosterman @JohanOosterman posted an image of the British Library’s Egerton MS 1900, f. 100r, with the caption ‘Elephant and Castle’. Here is that image, taken from a late 15th-century German travelogue, which describes a journey from Venice to Egypt.

Amused by this tweet, I thought of other names of London Tube stations that could be represented by manuscript images. I retweeted the first suggestion and invited people to #manuscriptthetube. The results showed just how inventively people engage with manuscripts that have been made digitally available. It was also a reminder that medieval London is not far from the surface and you do not need to dig deep, not even as deep as a Tube platform, to find its traces. Here, in the most modern of media – digital images representing a modern transport network – was a reminder of the city’s past, of its rich lexicon of medieval place names and the imagination of its inhabitants and an online community further afield.

 
Earliest known topographically accurate view of London, with the Tower of London and Duke Charles d’Orléans writing in the Tower, from Charles d’Orléans, Poetry and Pseudo-Heloise, Epistles, 'Les demands d'amours', and  'Le livre dit grace entiere', Low Countries (Bruges), c. 1483 (this image) with later additions, c. 1492 – c. 1500, Royal MS 16 F II, f. 73r

A 21st-century view of the Tower of London, photographed by Ralf Roletschek, England (London), 13 October 2010. 

Like many Londoners, I have a great affection for the iconic London Tube map. It’s a masterpiece of design. The map was designed by Henry Beck (1902-1974) in 1932. His innovation was to take some liberties with geography and thereby make the stations appear evenly spaced, ordered and legible. In its broad palette and dovetailing lines it’s a visual representation of all of London’s colour and variety. In many ways, Beck's map is similar to a manuscript like Egerton MS 1900, itself a colourfully illustrated travelogue with some distortions of distance. 

Below is a run-down of some of our favourite tweets which #manuscriptthetube. Please continue to send us your suggestions via @BLMedieval. We've embedded the links to all the original tweets in everyone's Twitter handles. 

 

A Run-Down of Our Favourites

Some suggestions gestured to the medieval history embedded in London's place names, like this one from Buckland Abbey @BucklandAbbeyNT, for Blackfriars. Blackfriars is named after a community of Dominican monks or ‘black friars’, so called because of the black habit they wore. It was established in 1221 near Lincoln’s Inn. The image here is from @thegetty's MS 107, f. 224r

Some punned on the names of Tube stations, like Acton Town from Susannah Davis @aethelflaed with an image from the Bodleian Library @bodleianlibs MS Auct F 2 13

Harrow on the Hill  station proved to be a rich source of inspiration for Adam @pseudomonas, with an image from our 'Taymouth Hours', ?London, c. 1325-50, Yates Thompson MS 13, f. 68v

Harrow on the Hill got a second outing in my personal favourite of the punning suggestions from @SLevelt, Sjoerd Levelt, with an image from our Speculum humanae salvationis, England, c.1485-1509, Harley MS 2838, f. 33v

 

Geoff Griffiths @Cheoffors offered both Baker Street/Baker's Treat and also Pudding Lane with this image from the Getty Museum @theGetty from a mid 13th-century psalter, The J. Paul Getty Museum, Ms. 14, f. 8v

 

@Cheoffors also suggested a wonderful image for Heat-throw/Heathrow (All Terminals) from Codex Skylitzes Matritensis, Biblioteca Nacional de Madrid, Vitr. 26-2, Bild-Nr. 77, f.  34 v

 

Richard Fitch @tudorcook was in playful mood with an image of Arsenal from @MorganLibrary's late 14th-century copy of Jacques de Longuyon's Vows of the Peacock, in MS G 24, f. 25v

 

And we also loved his suggestion for Hatch End from the Hague's MS MMW 10 B 25, f. 31r

 

 Commonplace Berk @stambuch was typically witty in his suggestion for Kilburn from the Bodleian Library's Douce MS 332. You can see his other suggestion here (caution advised). 

Others were more literal representations of the names of tube stations, like London Bridge (Mind the gap!) from @DollyJorgensen with an image from our Yates Thompson MS 47, a copy of John Lydgate's Life of Saint Edmund, made in ?Bury St Edmunds, c. 1461-75.

 

 

We are thrilled that the Getty Museum @thegetty took up our British challenge and suggested Seven Sisters from an image of Philosophy presenting the seven liberal arts to Boethius by the Coëtivy Master.

 

 Geoff Griffiths @Cheoffors also used this image for High Barnet. For our non-British readers, 'barnet' is cockney rhyming slang for 'hair' (it comes from 'Barnet fair') and also means 'head'.

 

Rayners Lane, from Susannah Davis @aethelflaed was a very British suggestion, with a detail of Croesus from John Lydgate's Fall of Princes, ?Bury St Edmunds, c. 1450-60, Harley MS 1766, f. 133r

And there was a bleak and brilliant humour to her suggestion for Amersham from Add MS 18851, the Breviary of Queen Isabella of Castile, made in Bruges in c. 1497. 

Elephant and Castle  got a second outing from @SophieVHarwood with a detail of the death of Codrus, from Speculum humanae salvationis, England (London), c. 1485-1509, Harley MS 2838

C R Stillman-Lowe @SICathy sent us this lovely angel for, um, Angel from the 'Taymouth Hours', our Yates Thompson MS 13

 

C R Stillman-Lowe @SICathy also tagged some bemused-looking barons for Barons Court, with a detail of Merlin standing before King Arthur, from the Lancelot-Grail (The Prose Vulgate Cycle), Northern France (Saint-Omer or Tournai), 1316, Add MS 10292, f. 200v 

@DollyJorgensen was on fine form, suggesting Hammersmith with detail of a blacksmith, from a fragmentary Book of Hours, England (London), c. 1320 - c. 1330, Harley MS 6563, f. 68   

I loved some of the madder ones. Like this suggestion of Oval from Anthony Bale @RealMandeville. Yep, it's a wound. 

Our very own @julianpharrison gave us Fulham Broadway (or possibly Tott[ering]ham Court Road?). No we didn't get it either, but we thought we should put it up in any case to keep him happy. And it does depict a pig on stilts, from Jean Froissart's Chroniques (the 'Harley Froissart'), Low Countries (Bruges), c. 1470-1472, Harley MS 4379, f. 19v

Finally, Erik Kwakkel @erik_kwakkel gave us a very witty suggestion which gestured to the history of our collection. He suggested Burnt Oak, with an image of some of the charred fragments of manuscripts destroyed in the Cotton Fire. You can read about the terrible fire which destroyed part of the library's Cotton collection here. 

 Which are your favourite entries from #manuscriptthetube? We'd love to hear your suggestions: please tweet us @BLMedieval or leave a comment below this blogpost.

 ~@marywellesley

 

Related

 

Susan Reed @sureed67 reminded us that Saint Pancras was 'Beheaded by the Emperor. So you could say the King was Cross with St Pancras'. Find out more about who this king, or rather emperor, was and why he was cross with St Pancras,  by checking out our St Pancras' Day blog post).

Detail of St Pancras and the Emperor Diocletian, from Queen Mary Psalter, England (Westminster or East Anglia?), c. 1310-1320, Royal MS 2 B VII, f. 249v

The problem of whether to write something new or dig something up from the past is perennial. As Ecclesiastes puts it, ‘There is no end to the writing of books, and much study is wearisome.’ This was especially a problem for medieval writers, from whom we have inherited a concern for demonstrating the authorities supporting our assertions. Some intellectuals in the Middle Ages wondered whether there was any purpose in writing at all, given the wealth of books already available.

Robert of Cricklade thought otherwise. Born in Wiltshire, he was first a teacher, later becoming an Augustinian canon (halfway between a monk and a secular priest) at nearby Cirencester Abbey. Around 1138/9, he was put in charge of St Frideswide’s Priory in Oxford, much of which still stands today as part of Christ Church. One of five copies of his unpublished book On the Marriage of Jacob (De connubio Iacob) is in the British Library.

Robert of Cricklade’s On the Marriage of Jacob, late 12th century, Royal MS 8 E II, f. 1.

Robert was an indefatigable supporter of contemporary writers. He asserts that if others think he should stop writing, perhaps they were merely jealous. He offers a challenge: Do you want me to pay attention to you? Then give me something to read (Royal MS 8 E II, f. 49r–v):

Let them call to mind that it is written, ‘jealousy slays the simple’ [Job 5:2], those namely who in being jealous prove that they are lesser than those of whom they are jealous. If they grieve that I write, let them also write, and I will certainly read their writings, as it is said, ‘with a bowed head’ [Horace, Saturae 3.80], as theirs; I read now those who write now, not being jealous and disparaging, but giving thanks that thus far ‘the Lord’ has not, as the prophet says, ‘forsaken the land’ [Ezekiel 8:12, 9:9], since even in our age people may be found who can stir us up to love of his sayings and writings.

For I also read the writings of the venerable abbot of Clairvaux that came into our hands; and I not only read the splendid work of the man of highest erudition, William, monk and cantor of the church of Malmesbury, that he compiled on the Lamentations of Jeremiah, but I also had it written, so that it might be found in our church. I read also his book on the miracles of the most blessed mother of God and perpetual virgin, Mary, which is also found in our church. What shall I say on his compilations from the works of the most blessed Pope Gregory, in which the violent uprooter of sins and loving builder of virtues appears so that in him in a certain way it seems to be fulfilled which is written, ‘See, I have set you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to break down, to build and to plant.’ [Jeremiah 1:10] I have not yet read his other works, but I will read them if it should please God and the space of my life is extended. For I am not jealous of writing monks, but I rejoice with them, although I am not a monk, but the most unworthy of the canons of Cirencester of the church of St Mary, the mother of God, under the discipline of the holy and venerable Serlo, the first abbot of the place, praying to God for the remission of their sins.

Robert’s approach was not mere words; although his copies of William of Malmesbury do not survive, some of the other remaining books from Malmesbury and Cirencester show evidence of exchanges between the two locations, only 20 km apart. In Oxford, he wrote a life of St Frideswide that showed the priory’s patron saint as a precocious learner (and far more intelligent than a typical male child). Even after Robert’s death (between 1174 and 1180), his work at Oxford and Cirencester inspired the work of the famous Alexander Neckam (1157–1217).

Robert’s advice holds true for any of us today suffering from writer’s block. Bragging that your talent exceeds even that of J.R.R. Tolkien won’t achieve anything. ‘Nunc lego qui nunc scribunt’ – ‘I read now those who write now’.

— Andrew Dunning (@anjdunning)

Dear Readers,

It's caption time again! And today (you lucky people) we're giving you not one but two — yes, TWO — chances to exercise your brains/show off to your friends. Over to you!

For inspiration (if you need any), the original images are found in an English Apocalypse manuscript, dating from the 1st quarter of the 14th century (British Library Royal MS 2 D XIII, ff. 18v, 43v).

We look forward to receiving your contributions – the best suggestions will be published on our Twitter account (@BLMedieval) in the next few days.

CAPTION 1

 

 CAPTION 2

 

Update (13 July)

We received some fantastic suggestions for our latest caption competition. Thank you so much to everyone who contributed: here is a small selection of our favourites.

Caption 1

@keithedkins OK Jeremy, you've had long enough, here are my 50 nominations to stand against you

@julianpharrison Thank goodness you've brought the toilet paper

Caption 2

@obrienatrix Early experimental stages: how the hole got in the #medievaldonut

@tudorcook Oh and that's a poor effort from the Heavenly Host team in this first round of the shot putt!

Today we celebrate the Feast of the Translation of Thomas Becket. On this day in 1220 the relics of this famous English martyr were ‘translated’ or moved from the crypt of Canterbury Cathedral to an elaborate shrine in the newly-constructed apse at the east end of the cathedral. In the words of Kay Slocum (Liturgies in Honour of Thomas Becket, Toronto, 2004), this was ‘one of the most important and sumptuous state occasions of the 13th century’. King Henry III of England was in attendance, together with the political and religious great and good, and a new liturgical office was composed for the occasion. Unfortunately, the shrine was destroyed in 1538 by order of King Henry VIII, but the legend and the liturgy survive.

Two manuscripts in the British Library's collections contain versions of the Office for the Translation. One of these, the ‘Stowe Breviary’ (also known as the ‘Norwich Breviary’, Stowe MS 12), can be viewed in full on our Digitised Manuscripts site. This manuscript was made in the diocese of Norwich within a few years of the translation of Becket’s relics, and it is illuminated in the East Anglian style perfected in the Gorleston Psalter.

Historiated initial depicting the translation of Thomas of Canterbury, with the name ‘Thomas’ erased in the rubric on the right of the initial: 1322-1325, the ‘Stowe Breviary’, Stowe MS 12, f. 270r

Thomas Becket, appointed Archbishop of Canterbury in 1162, was murdered in the cathedral on 29 December 1170 by three knights, widely believed to have been acting on the orders of King Henry II. Henry had been incensed by Becket’s refusal to recognise the power of the English monarch over the Church. The story of Becket’s martyrdom spread rapidly through Europe and it was widely represented in medieval art. One of the most famous series of images is that found in the Queen Mary Psalter, one of which is shown here (they can all be seen on Digitised Manuscripts).

A bas-de-page image illustrating the murder of Thomas Becket, from the Queen Mary Psalter: England (London/Westminster or East Anglia?) between 1310 and 1320, Royal MS 2 B VII, f. 298r

Three years after his death, Becket was canonised by the Pope, and his cult became one of the most widely celebrated in the Middle Ages. Liturgies were composed for his feast day, 29 December, with lessons recounting his life and legend and chants celebrating his miracles. In the Huth Psalter from northern England, St Thomas is portrayed alongside the very popular St Margaret and St Catherine of Alexandria.

Thomas Becket is murdered by a group of knights; Margaret emerges from the belly of a dragon, and beats a demon with a flail; Catherine of Alexandria prays amidst the dead bodies of the men who attempted to martyr her by breaking her over a wheel. An angel breaks the wheels with clubs: England (Lincoln or York?), 4th quarter of the 13th century, Add MS 38116, f. 13r

The Penwortham Breviary (Add MS 52359), a beautifully decorated manuscript from northern England, contains a series of liturgies for Thomas Becket with musical notation.

Part of the Office of St Thomas Becket from a Sarum Breviary (the ‘Penworthiam Breviary’): northern England, c 1300-1319, Additional MS 52359, f. 49v

By the early 13th century crowds of pilgrims from across Europe visited Becket’s tomb at Canterbury Cathedral, returning home with tales of miraculous events. Following an earlier papal decree, his relics were to be moved to a magnificent new shrine and the Archbishop at the time, Stephen Langton, planned the occasion meticulously, choosing an auspicious date, rather than exactly 50 years to the day from Becket’s death. Tuesday, 7 July 1220, was ‘according to the details given in Leviticus … on the tenth day … of the seventh month after seven-times-seven years from the event; and for good measure, the day was Tuesday, corresponding with the special Tuesdays in Becket’s life, the date was the anniversary of Henry II’s inhumation in 1189, and 1220 was a leap-year, a time of good fortune’ (Ann Duggan, ‘The Cult of St Thomas Becket in the Thirteenth Century’, in St Thomas Cantilupe, Bishop of Hereford: Essays in His Honour, ed. by Meryl Jancey, Hereford, 1982, pp. 38-39). Unfortunately the shrine was destroyed in 1538 by order of King Henry VIII, but a candle in Canterbury Cathedral marks the spot.

The Office for the Translation of Thomas Becket is included in a number of surviving breviaries, and it continued to be celebrated every 50 years from 1220 to 1470, an unprecedented honour for an English saint. A second copy in the British Library's collections is found in Additional MS 28598, a late 13th-century breviary from Ely, with the same antiphons and responsories as Stowe MS 12, but with musical notation. A unique prosa (a set of rhymed couplets set to music added to a responsory on special occasions) follows Lesson 9, which tells how the martyr resuscitated a young girl for the second time.

A page from a Breviary with musical notation, late 13th century, England, E. (Ely), Additional MS 28598, f. 29r

You can read more about Thomas Becket in our blogpost Murder in the Cathedral.

Chantry Westwell

 

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Murder in the Cathedral

2016 marks the 500th anniversary of the publication of one of the most influential early modern books, Thomas More's Utopia. We currently have a Utopia display in our Treasures Gallery, and this Friday, 8 July, historian John Guy will be talking about Thomas More and Utopia at the British Library. Today is also the anniversary of the execution of Sir Thomas More on 6 July 1535, the subject of this blogpost.

Sir Thomas More by Hans Holbein the Younger, The Frick Collection, New York

Sir Thomas More, English lawyer, diplomat, statesman and internationally renowned humanist scholar, entered royal service in 1517 and was appointed Lord Chancellor of the Realm in 1529, following the fall of Cardinal Wolsey. More, who first met Henry VIII in 1499 when he accompanied Erasmus, the Dutch humanist scholar, on a visit to Eltham Palace to meet the 9-year-old prince, became a close friend and confidant of the adult king. The two men shared a passion for astrology and according to contemporary accounts enjoyed gazing at the stars together after supper and discussing theology, which was another of their shared interests. As a devout Catholic and loyal servant of the Pope, More used his growing influence in the 1520s to defend Catholic orthodoxy against the Lutheran movement, writing polemics against heresy, banning Protestant books and, as Lord Chancellor, prosecuting heretics.

More had opposed Henry VIII’s quest to end his marriage to Katherine of Aragon and marry Anne Boleyn, but he nevertheless accepted the position of Lord Chancellor, trusting Henry’s promise to keep him out of such matters. By 1532, he was growing increasingly distressed over Henry’s repudiation of papal jurisdiction in England and the King’s increasing power over the Church. The final straw came on 15 May 1532 when the clergy submitted to Henry’s demand that they accept that all ecclesiastical law required royal assent. No longer able to serve the King and obey his own conscience, More resigned as Lord Chancellor the very next day and retired from public life to his family home in Chelsea. To avoid further trouble, More remained silent on the subject of the King’s marital problems, but his refusal to attend the coronation of Anne Boleyn in June 1533, followed by the publication of The Apology of Sir Thomas More, in which he urged ‘good catholic folk’ to defend the old faith, incurred the wrath of Henry and Anne. 

The moment that More and his family had long feared came on 12 April 1534 in the form of a summons to appear at Lambeth Palace to swear the Oath of Succession, which recognised Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn’s children as legitimate successors to the Crown and declared Princess Mary to be illegitimate. The next day, More stood before the King’s commissioners, including Cromwell and Cranmer, and declared that although he was willing to accept Henry’s new wife and the succession he refused to swear the oath, the preamble to which also renounced papal power and affirmed the Royal Supremacy. More was arrested for his act of disloyalty to the King and imprisoned in the Tower along with John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester and active supporter of Katherine of Aragon, who had also refused to swear the Oath of Succession. 

Letter from Sir Thomas More to Margaret Roper from the Tower, reporting on his interrogation before members of the King’s Council, on Friday 30 April. Tower of London, 2-3 May 1535 (London, British Library, Arundel MS 152, f. 294r)

In November 1534, the Act of Treasons made ‘malicious’ denial of the royal supremacy punishable by death. More was interrogated on four different occasions in the Tower but held firm to his principles and steadfastly refused to acknowledge Henry’s Supremacy which would require him to deny his ultimate allegiance to the papacy. In the dignified letter illustrated above, written to his daughter, Margaret Roper, More provides a detailed account of his interrogation on 30 April 1535 before Thomas Cromwell, who demanded on the King’s behalf to know More’s opinion on the Supremacy. More responded that his life was now reserved for ‘study upon the passion of Christ’ and his own ‘passage out of this world’ and he refused to ‘meddle with any matter of this world’. As if sensing that his words would be preserved for posterity, More defiantly declared on the final page, ‘I am, quoth I, the King’s true faithful subject and daily bedesman and pray for his highness and all his and all the realm. I do nobody harm, I say none harm, I think none harm but wish everybody good. And if this be not enough to keep a man alive in good faith I long not to live’. It certainly wasn’t enough for Henry, who demanded More’s full submission; anything less was unacceptable.

On 1 July 1535, Thomas More stood trial for treason, and he was condemned to death for ‘maliciously denying the royal Supremacy’. Five days later, while Henry hunted at Reading, More was beheaded on Tower Hill, proclaiming himself ‘the King’s good servant but God’s first’.

Visions of Utopia is a free display at the British Library, open until 18 September, featuring an original edition of Utopia and books and documents associated with Thomas More. John Guy's lecture, Thomas More and Utopia (8 July), will examine the contents of this famous book, why it was written and its intended audience.

Andrea Clarke

What do the masons who built medieval cathedrals, the philosopher Voltaire and the artist Marc Chagall have in common? Give yourself a pat on the back if you knew that they are all associated with freemasonry. The history of freemasonry is the subject of a major exhibition at the Bibliothèque nationale de France, open until 24 July 2016, to which the British Library has loaned two medieval manuscripts.

The tower of Babel being built by masons, from the Egerton Genesis Picture Book, England, c. 1350-1375, Egerton MS 1894, f. 5v

Freemasonry had its origins in the building of medieval cathedrals. In the late Middle Ages, masons gathered in guilds or lodges regulated by statutes. Each new mason had to undergo an apprenticeship of seven years and to swear an oath before they could receive the status of mason. At around the same time, a legend was created to enhance the status and importance of masons’ work. The oldest versions of this legend are dated to the end of the 14th century and the early 15th century, and they survive in two British Library manuscripts (Royal MS 17 A I and Additional MS 23198). They contain a verse history of masonry and of the regulations of the craft of masonry, ending with a prayer. These poems give a mythical account of the origins of mason’s craft: they claim that the secrets of practical geometry and masonry were created with the world and were the foundation of all knowledge, and that masonry was established in England during the reign of King Athelstan (d. 939).

Detail of a mason and a carpenter, from Livre des proprietez des choses, Low Countries (Bruges), 1482, Royal MS 15 E II, f. 265r

In the 17th century, individuals who did not have links with masonry were admitted to lodges, first in Scotland and afterwards in England. The term ‘lodge’ designated the hut of masons and was extended to the corporation of masons. Freemasonry as we know it today originated in England in the 18th century, when some gentlemen masons – often members of the Royal Society or other learned men -- gathered at the ‘Goose and Gridiron’ tavern in St Paul’s churchyard, before uniting four London lodges into one in 1717. Freemason lodges played a key role in the dissemination of Enlightenment ideas because of the close links between members of the Royal Society and members of the Great Lodge of England.

A page from one of the earliest masonic treatises, Constituciones artis gemetrie secundum Euclyde, England, 15th century, Royal MS 17 A I, f. 1r

In 1725, English freemasons founded the first French lodge in the neighbourhood of St-Germain in Paris. The political philosopher Montesquieu (1689-1755) was one of the first Frenchmen to become an ‘officer’, after having been initiated into freemasonry in an English lodge at Westminster in 1730. Despite some criticism, freemasonry flourished in France, and it counted among its members Pierre Choderlos de Laclos (1741-1803), the author of Les Liaisons dangereuses, and the expressionist artist Marc Chagall (1887-1985).

The exhibition currently being staged in Paris aims to bring a new perspective to the origins and history of freemasonry. We are delighted that the British Library is a prominent lender to La Franc-Maçonnerie, and we hope that visitors to the exhibition enjoy seeing our manuscripts.

~Laure Miolo

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 July from the Bedford Hours, France (Paris), c. 1410-1430, Add MS 18850, f. 7r

Summer is in full swing in the Bedford Hours calendar pages for the month of July. 

Detail of miniatures of a man scything wheat and the zodiac sign Leo, from the calendar page for July, Add MS 18850, f. 7r

At the bottom of the folio is a miniature of a man engaged in a very typical labour of the month for July, scything wheat.  Although he is surrounded by a bucolic landscape including a river and a small bridge, our peasant appears less than pleased about his task.  Happily, his grumpy attitude is not shared by his companion at the bottom of the page, a remarkably jolly looking lion, for the zodiac sign Leo.

Detail of a marginal roundel of Julius Caesar, from the calendar page for July, Add MS 18850, f. 7r

On the middle left of the folio is a roundel miniature of an armoured king, crowned, holding a sword and a tablet headed with the letters ‘KL’ – a very simplified version of a medieval calendar.  This king, the rubrics tell us, is Julius Caesar, for whom the month of July was named.  The verses go on to describe how Caesar ‘fixed and put in order’ the months of the year that were ‘confused in the ancient calendar’ and for this achievement he was eternally memorialised. 

Calendar page for July, Add MS 18850, f. 7v

The saints’ days for July continue on the following folio, accompanied by two marginal roundels. The first of these, on the middle left, shows a snarling dog who appears to be biting at a bright star; this is most likely intended to represent Canis, the star that the rubrics tell us is ‘reigning’ in the month of July.  At the bottom is a less pleasant scene of Julius Caesar.  He is here seated on this throne, raising his arm in alarm as another man plunges a dagger in his chest.  Two men close by are also pulling daggers from their sheaths in a scene that illustrates how Caesar ‘was killed by his counsel.’

Detail of marginal roundels of Canis and the murder of Julius Caesar, from the calendar page for July, Add MS 18850, f. 7v

-   Sarah J Biggs

To mark the completion of the third phase of the Greek Manuscripts Digitisation Project and the launch of the Greek Manuscripts Online web resource, the British Library is hosting a one-day conference devoted to Greek Manuscripts on 19 September, 2016. Confirmed participants include Sebastian Brock (Oxford), Charalambos Dendrinos (Royal Holloway), Elizabeth Jeffreys (Oxford), Charlotte Roueché (King’s College London), Maria Georgopoulou (Gennadius Library, Athens) and Giorgi Parpulov (Plovdiv, Bulgaria). Speakers will discuss a variety of topics related to the Library’s digitised Greek collections, such as Greek-Syriac palimpsests, Byzantine illuminated manuscripts, Greek written culture and the digital humanities and the cultural interactions between Greece and Britain.

Page from the Theodore Psalter, Constantinople, February 1066, Add MS 19352, f. 36r

The conference will be accompanied by an evening lecture by Michael Wood on ‘The Wisdom of the Greeks’. Michael will be looking at how the legacy of Greece and Byzantium in science, religion and literature was transmitted to the Latin West. Fascinating stories about texts and ideas, scribes and scholars will come to life in the course of this illustrated talk that will include Anglo-Saxon kings, Crusader knights and Renaissance humanists - and even a well-known Elizabethan dramatist!

Please book your place in advance and register online at http://www.bl.uk/events/greek-manuscripts-in-the-british-library-day-ticket . The full programme can be found here:  Download British Library Greek Conference Schedule.

~Peter Toth