If you have a modern medium-sized paperback (also known as B-format in the UK) or an A4-sized notebook at hand, you can check the page proportions of most modern printed material. That is, that the width of the page is between 65 and 70 percent of the height of the page. This relationship between height and width also holds true for most medieval manuscripts. But there are intriguing exceptions to this norm. For instance, there is a subset of medieval books that have remarkably tall and narrow dimensions.

One of the advantages of this unusual format is that it makes it easy to hold the book open with one hand and to turn the page with the other. This suggests that the text within these books may have been referenced while standing up or moving around. They are also often relatively small and portable, and some scholars have suggested that they were meant to hang from a belt or to be kept in a leather ‘holster’. Another theory is that they were easily packed in a saddlebag to take travelling. This is why they are now often called ‘holster books’ or ‘saddle books’.

A miniature of St Benedict holding a book open with one hand and presenting it to three monks, from a copy of Regula Sancti Benedicti, Southern France, 2nd quarter of the 12th century: Add MS 16979, f. 21v

One late 10th-century English example of such a book is now the first part of a composite manuscript. It mainly contains the Rule of St Benedict (Regula Sancti Benedicti), by St Benedict of Nursia (b. c. 480, d. c. 550). The Rule is a set of guidelines for the spiritual and practical life of a monastic community and was the most important such rule in the early medieval period. Its influence was especially marked during the so-called Benedictine reform movement in England during the second half of the 10th century. The reformers, with the support of King Edgar (r. 959–975), aimed to reinstate strict monasticism following the Rule of St Benedict. In reformed houses, a passage of the Rule was read aloud every day.

This copy is around 230 mm tall and only around 95 mm wide. The proportions of this book were discussed by John Lowden in this virtual exhibition, in which he suggested that it might have been made to fit a recycled ivory plaque used to decorate the book cover. The large writing and short lines of this copy of the Rule would also have assisted with the communal daily readings.

The beginning of the text of the Regula Sancti Benedicti, with a zoomorphic initial M[onachorum]; Southern England (? St Augustine's Canterbury), c. 975-1000; Harley MS 5431 (ff 4r-126v), f. 15r

Books used in the liturgy were also quite often made in this format. One example is the Noyon Sacramentary, a book containing the prayers and texts needed to perform Mass and other ceremonies made for the use of Noyon Cathedral in the late 10th century. It has been called a ‘saddle book’ since it might have been meant for use by the bishop of Noyon when he needed to travel to consecrate churches throughout the bishopric. You can read more about its decorated initials and their connections to earlier 9th-century manuscripts in a previous blogpost.

Unfinished initial ligature TE (for the Te igitur opening) at the beginning of the Canon of the Mass; Noyon, France, c. 975-1000; Add MS 82956, f. 7v

Many tall and narrow books from the late 10th and 12th centuries contain works by classical authors, for instance this copy of the Aeneid by the Roman poet Virgil (b. 70 BC, d. 19 BC) made in the late 12th or early 13th century. Considered Virgil’s masterpiece, the Aeneid soon became a standard text in Latin education and it continued to be used to teach Latin grammar and rhetoric throughout the Middle Ages. It is possible that this book was used by a teacher who needed it constantly at hand, to read aloud from and refer back to, while moving through a classroom setting. Another possible reason for this format specifically for classical poetry is that it fits the generally short lines of verse, such as the hexameter of Latin epic poetry.

The beginning of Virgil, Aeneid, marked by a large red initial A; England or France, c. 1175-1225; Harley MS 2777, f. 1r

It is even more likely that another 12th-century manuscript, which was digitised as part of The Polonsky Foundation England and France Project, was used in a classroom. This book contains the Thebaid by the Roman poet Statius, another Latin epic poem that was a popular text of the medieval school curriculum. As seen on this page, with the end of Book I and beginning of Book II, the layout of its tall and narrow pages left generous outer and lower margins. This was evidently necessary, considering the many marginal and interlinear glosses and annotations that were added subsequently, in several layers and by different hands. This is a sign of its use in a scholarly teaching context.

The beginning of Book II of the poem Thebais (Thebaid), marked by a large initial I; France, c. 1125-1175; Harley MS 2608, f. 11r

If you want to learn more about the medieval engagement with ancient Greek and Roman works and authors, check out the article on The classical past on the Polonsky Medieval England and France 700-1200 project website.

Emilia Henderson

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Part of the Polonsky Digitisation Project

Tickets are now on sale for our upcoming exhibition, Gold. Bringing together fifty spectacular items from around the world, this exhibition explores the use of gold in books and documents across cultures.

For thousands of years, people have found all kinds of ways to incorporate gold into books and documents: gold writing, inscriptions on gold surfaces, gold-illuminated pictures, gold book covers. So intrinsic was gold to the craft of luxury book production that manuscript decoration is known as ‘illumination’ from the use of gold to light up the pages. 

Gold illumination in the Queen Mary Psalter, London, early 14th century: Royal MS 2 B vii, f. 68r

Gold has long been considered deeply meaningful. Its extraordinary appearance means that many religions around the world have found gold a fitting way to express the divine. As a rare luxury material, gold was adopted by rulers to convey political messages about their power and wealth.

Maunggan gold plates inscribed with Buddhist texts written in Pali language, Myanmar, 5th-6th centuries: Or 5340 A & Or 5340 B

The exhibition will explore the different techniques employed by craftspeople to incorporate gold into books, including gold leaf (applying thin gold foil), shell gold (painting with powdered gold, which was traditionally kept in seashells), and gold-tooled leather bindings. 

Gold illumination in the Golden Haggadah, Northern Spain, probably Barcelona, c.1320: Add MS 27210, f. 5r

It will showcase books and documents from twenty countries, seventeen languages, and five major world religions: Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Buddhism and Judaism. Exhibits range from 5th/6th-century inscribed gold plates from Myanmar to a 1920s art deco gold-tooled binding from France. There will be plenty of splendid medieval manuscripts on display, including the Harley Golden Gospels made in Germany around 800, which is written entirely in gold ink, and the Golden Haggadah made in Spain around 1320, renowned for its gold-illuminated scenes from Genesis and Exodus. 

Gold script in the Harley Golden Gospels, Carolingian Empire, c. 800: Harley MS 2788, f. 25v

Gold will be open at the British Library from Friday 20 May - Sunday 2 Oct 2022. You can pre-book your tickets online now. An accompanying book Gold: Spectacular Manuscripts from Around the World is available from the British Library shop.

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Supported by: 

The exhibition is supported by the Goldhammer Foundation and the American Trust for the British Library, with thanks to The John S Cohen Foundation, The Finnis Scott Foundation, the Owen Family Trust and all supporters who wish to remain anonymous. 

The British Library has loaned four manuscripts to an exhibition at the Rietberg Museum in Zurich, In the Name of the Image: Imagery between Cult and Prohibition in Islam and Christianity, which opened on 4 February. The exhibition takes a comparative, cross-cultural perspective to trace the varying approaches of Islam and Christianity towards the use of imagery. On loan from the Library are three lavishly illuminated Persian manuscripts from the 16th-17th centuries, together with one of our most precious illuminated Greek manuscripts, the 11th-century Theodore Psalter (Add MS 19352).

The beginning of the twelve-syllable poem on David, in the Theodore Psalter: Add MS 19352, f. 189v

Completed in 1066 at the Stoudion Monastery in Constantinople, the Theodore Psalter is one of the richest illuminated Greek manuscripts to survive. It is named after the monk Theodore, who wrote at the end of the book that he was both the copyist and illuminator. The book contains the Psalter in Greek, distributed in 20 units (kathismata) corresponding to the use of the Psalms in Byzantine liturgy, as well as a poem about the life of the Prophet David and the appendix known as the Biblical Odes. With its 440 coloured illustrations, placed in the margins of its 208 folios, this manuscript is the most fully illuminated Psalter to survive from the Byzantine Empire. 

The Theodore Psalter belongs to a special group of illuminated Psalters called ‘marginal psalters’. These manuscripts place the biblical text in the centre of the page leaving ample margins for illustrations that are linked to the corresponding passages of the biblical text with red and blue strokes.

Burning of Sodom and the five cities and Loth fleeing with his family, illustrating Psalm 21:10 ‘You shall make them [the enemies of the king] like a fiery furnace’, in the Theodore Psalter: Add MS 19352, f 21v

This layout resembles the structure of so-called catena manuscripts, named after the Latin word catena, which means ‘chain’ or, in a more abstract sense, a series of loosely related items, like the links of a chain. These contain biblical commentaries with the biblical text in the centre of the page and the commentary in the margin, organised in dense units or figural shapes. The link between the biblical text and the corresponding units of the catena commentary is marked with an elaborate system of signs and letters which resemble the strokes in the Theodore Psalter.

Angel pulling out the boastful tongue, linked to Psalm 12:4 with a blue stroke, 'May the Lord destroy all deceptive lips', in the Theodore Psalter: Add MS 19352, f 11v

 

Greek catena commentary to the book of Genesis (49:22) with the biblical text in centre, the commentary surrounding it. Links are marked with red numbers written above the lines of the biblical text and on the margin with red. Octateuch with Catena, 12th-13th century, eastern Mediterranean: Add MS 35123, f. 88v

This similarity in layout between catena commentaries and the illustrations of the marginal psalters often helps us understand the rationale of the illustrations of the Theodore Psalter. Some images of the manuscript do not appear to have any obvious relationship to the texts they are linked to. They depict scenes from the life of Christ or saints, even later historical events, which are seemingly unrelated to the adjacent Psalms. Their connection, however, can be explained if we check the relevant passages in the catena commentaries. 

An interesting case is Psalm 45 which is about a royal wedding where the bride is addressed with the words ‘Listen, oh daughter behold and incline your ear … for the king desired your beauty’ (Psalm 45: 11). Right next to this passage in the Theodore Psalter, we see an image of the Annunciation, with the Virgin in the centre flanked by the Archangel Gabriel and the Prophet David.

Illustration to Psalm 44: 11 representing the Annunciation with the Archangel Gabriel and the Prophet David flanking the Virgin: Add MS 19352, f. 56v

The connection between text and image becomes clear if we look up the passage in a catena manuscript. In a 17th-century copy of an 11th-century compilation, the passage is explained by a quotation from the 4th-century theologian, Athanasius of Alexandria, who writes that ‘this phrase relates to the Virgin Mary and foreshadows her annunciation by the Archangel Gabriel. David addresses the Virgin as his daughter because she was born from his seed and after him.’

Interpretation of Psalm 45:11 from an 11th-century catena compilation by Nicetas of Herakleia beginning with the name of Athanasius written in red ink on the margin in a 17th-century copy: Harley MS 5677, f. 136v (detail)

This commentary explains every element of the image in the Theodore Psalter: both the Archangel addressing the Virgin and David, who seems to be talking to her. It looks like a very accurate visualisation of this commentary. 

At first sight, the illustration added to Psalm 26:5 (‘I hate the assembly of evildoers and I will not sit with the ungodly’) looks unrelated to the biblical text. It depicts iconoclasts destroying a sacred image. If we check the catena commentaries, however, the short interpretation added to this phrase in the margin of a late 10th-century manuscript equates the ‘evildoers’ of the Psalm with ‘pagans and heretics’. 

Illustration to Psalm 26:5 representing the iconoclasts, in the Theodore Psalter: Add MS 19352, f. 27v

For the illustrator of the Theodore Psalter, this identification of the ‘evildoers’ as ‘heretics’ meant the heresy of the iconoclasts, who interpreted the biblical commandment against graven images to the letter and destroyed pictures and icons. The illumination visualises this interpretation of the ‘evildoers’ who are represented as they remove the image of Christ from a wall. As a result, the just, who ‘will not sit with the impious’, are identified with the defenders of the icons, St Theodore the Stoudite (759–826) and Patriarch Nicephorus of Constantinople (758–828), who are depicted arguing with the iconoclast emperor.

You can now admire the exceptional animated commentaries of the Theodore Psalter in the exhibition In the Name of the Image at the Rietberg Museum in Zurich until 22 May 2022.

 

Peter Toth

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The earliest surviving detailed map of Scotland is now on display at the Wardlaw Museum in St Andrews, as part of the British Library’s Treasures on Tour programme. The map was compiled by John Hardyng, who was born in 1377 or 1378, probably in Northumberland, and lived most of his life during the Hundred Years’ War between England and France. He joined the household of Henry Percy (‘Hotspur’) when he was 12 years old, and fought for the Percys in Anglo-Scottish border battles. He also served in France during the reign of Henry V, who sent him on a spying mission to Scotland in 1418. Hardyng is best known for his verse Chronicle of the history of Britain, in which he set out his fervent belief in the right of English kings to rule over Scotland. He was so determined to prove his case that he forged a series of documents purporting to provide corroborating historical evidence.

John Hardyng’s map of Scotland: Lansdowne MS 204, ff. 226v–227r

In 1457, Hardyng presented the first version of his Chronicle to King Henry VI of England, as part of his failed attempt to instigate an invasion of Scotland. The Chronicle is accompanied by this colourful map, spread across two pages, which depicts a very rectangular Scotland with west at the top. Hardyng doubtless drew on his earlier years of reconnaissance in Scotland in compiling his map. It includes much more topographical information and many more towns right across Scotland than in earlier surviving maps. The castles and walls of the towns are remarkably varied, while at Glasgow and Dunfermline the churches are drawn instead. The rivers are very clearly marked, with the River Forth, bridged at Stirling, running from top to bottom, and almost cutting the kingdom in two.

Detail of John Hardyng’s map of Scotland, showing Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dunfermline and St Andrews: Lansdowne MS 204, f. 226v

The level of detail, which Hardyng hoped would help an invading army, is strikingly different from earlier maps of Scotland. There is very little detail relating to Scotland in the small map of the world that was copied in 11th-century England and preserved in the collection of Sir Robert Cotton. East is at the top in this map, and the prominent islands to the north (on the left) are labelled ‘Orkney islands’ in Latin.

Detail of the 11th-century map of the world showing Britain and Ireland: Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1, f. 56v

Matthew Paris (d. 1259) produced several maps of Britain from his monastery at St Albans in Hertfordshire. In this map, included in his Abbreviatio Chronicorum, Scotland is shown in two parts, joined by a bridge at Stirling. Rivers are prominent and many places are labelled, including Glasgow, Edinburgh, Dunfermline, Dundee, Arbroath and Aberdeen, as well as Galloway, Caithness, Sutherland and Orkney.

Detail of a map of Britain by Matthew Paris showing Scotland: Cotton MS Claudius D VI/1, f. 12v

In the mid-1560s, just over a century after John Hardyng compiled his map, the antiquary Laurence Nowell was producing new maps of Scotland. Like Hardyng, Nowell put west at the top in this small map, but he included far more detailed information, making this the most accurate map of Scotland at that time. It has recently been on display at the British Library in the exhibition Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens.

Map of Scotland by Laurence Nowell: Cotton MS Domitian A XVIII, ff. 98v–99r

John Hardyng’s map is on display at the Wardlaw Museum in St Andrews from 20 February until 3 July 2022. The museum is open seven days a week and entry is free. You can find out more about Hardyng’s life, his Chronicle and his map in James Simpson and Sarah Peverley’s book.

The Treasures on Tour programme is generously supported by the Helen Hamlyn Trust. The British Library is working with other libraries, museums and galleries to share our collections across the UK. Last year we loaned the Gospels of Máel Brigte to the Ulster Museum, as well as the Bodmin Gospels and Pascon Agan Arluth (a Cornish Passion poem) to Kresen Kernow in Redruth, Cornwall, as part of this programme, and we will be announcing additional loans as part of ‘Treasures on Tour’ over the coming months.

 

Claire Breay

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As the British Library’s major exhibition, Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens, draws to a close, it seems appropriate to turn our attention to the final space in the exhibition, which is a symbolic recreation of the Henry VII Lady Chapel at Westminster Abbey, where both Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots, are buried. A series of hanging paper shapes evoke the chapel’s ornate pendant fan vault ceiling beneath which lie replicas of Elizabeth and Mary's tomb effigies.

Image showing replicas of Elizabeth I’s Effigy in Westminster Abbey, originally sculpted by Maximilian Colt, 1605–07, and Mary, Queen of Scots’ Effigy, originally sculpted by Cornelius and William Cure, 1607–13, on display in the British Library exhibition

When Elizabeth I died on 24 March 1603, Mary’s son, James, was immediately proclaimed king of England, unifying the crowns of England, Scotland and Ireland as James VI and I. Although James I showed little enthusiasm for building a tomb to Elizabeth, he was persuaded to do so by his Principal Secretary, Robert Cecil, who oversaw its construction between 1605 and 1607. Elizabeth’s tomb effigy is thought to have been copied from the funeral effigy that was placed on the hearse that carried her to Westminster Abbey. Her face, copied from a death mask, was described as lifelike.

Drawing of Elizabeth I’s funeral procession, showing the full-sized funeral effigy of the crowned queen, dressed in her parliamentary robes and holding an orb and sceptre, early 17th century: Add MS 35324, f. 37v

By contrast, James was determined to commemorate his mother Mary, whose final wish to be buried in France had been denied. In 1612, he had her remains removed from Peterborough Cathedral and reinterred at Westminster. Completed four years later, her tomb was more costly, larger and more magnificent than Elizabeth’s, containing details that emphasised Mary’s martyrdom.

We are immensely grateful to Her Majesty the Queen and the Dean of Westminster Abbey for granting permission for replicas of Elizabeth and Mary’s effigies to be made especially for display in the exhibition. They were created by model maker Michael Whiteley, who started the process by visiting Westminster Abbey to take laser measurements and photographs of the originals. The figures were then both sculpted in clay with all the filigree work on the clothing and the cushions being reproduced exactly as it appears on the original tomb effigies. The next stage involved casting the clay sculpts using silicone rubber with a Glass Reinforced Plastic (GRP) jacket to reproduce every fine detail. This material is also used for many Disney projects and has the highest fire rating available. Once complete, the surface layer of resin gel coat was mixed with marble powder to recreate the finish of the originals, while bronze powder was added to the resin gel coating for the cross on Elizabeth’s orb and her sceptre. Finally, the figures were cleaned and suitably aged before being installed in the exhibition.

The model of Elizabeth I’s effigy being sculpted in clay © Michael Whitely

The final space in our exhibition is one of peaceful sanctity, much lighter than the rest of the gallery and filled with 16th-century choral music. A semi-transparent wall allows visitors to see the shadows of the surrounding architecture and hints of the turbulent journey they have just been on. The space invites them to linger and reflect, and it serves as a fitting reminder that, although Elizabeth and Mary never met in person, in death they finally rest in close proximity, two of the most famous figures in British history.

Image showing the replicas of Elizabeth I and Mary’s Queen of Scots’ tomb effigies in Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens

 

Andrea Clarke and Karen Limper-Herz

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Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens tells the story of the complex and evolving relationship of Elizabeth I and Mary, Queen of Scots. Drawing on documents, letters and speeches written in the queens’ own hands, as well as the courtiers closest to them, the exhibition reveals how, from cordial beginnings, their relationship turned to distrust and betrayal.

The exhibition catalogue for the Elizabeth and Mary exhibition

In 1561, when the recently widowed Mary, Queen of Scots, returned to Scotland to take up direct rule, the two queens were both young and infinitely curious about each other — anything but mortal enemies. They exchanged expensive gifts and letters full of sisterly affection and expressed an earnest desire to meet and make a perfect amity. Mary hoped that a personal meeting would result in her being recognised as Elizabeth’s heir presumptive, and she frequently reminded her cousin that they were not only fellow sovereign queens but also ‘of one blood, of one country, and in one island’. When their plans to meet in 1562 were aborted, Mary lost her opportunity to persuade Elizabeth in person to settle the succession, turning her thoughts to marriage as a means to strengthen her claim to the English crown. Elizabeth quickly made it known that a marriage to one of her powerful European rivals would be seen as a hostile act and instead proposed her favourite, Robert Dudley, as a suitable husband. But she would still not name Mary as her heir.

Portrait of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, by Steven van der Meulen, c. 1561: by kind permission of Waddesdon (Rothschild Family)

Elizabeth’s suggestion that Mary marry her ‘horse master’ — to use Mary’s own words — caused great offence and coincided with a deterioration in relations between the two queens. In late September 1564, Mary sent her ambassador, Sir James Melville, on a nine-day visit to the English court to smooth things over. His autograph memoirs (held at the British Library as Add MS 37977) record how ‘hir Maieste plesit to confer with me euery day, and somtymes thrys vpon a day’, and provide a vivid account of their conversations.

During Melville’s first audience with Elizabeth, she requested an update on the Dudley marriage proposal, keen to point out that ‘sche estemed him as hir brother and best frend, whom sche suld have married hir self, had she not been determined to end hir lyf in virginite’. Instead, ‘sche wissit that the quen hir sister suld mary him, as metest of all vther, and with whom sche mycht find in hir hart to declaire the quen second personne’. Elizabeth insisted that Melville witness Dudley being ennobled as Earl of Leicester. He wryly observed that, as Dudley kneeled before the queen, ‘sche culd not refrain from putting hir hand in his nek, to kitle [tickle] him smylingly’. On another occasion, in Elizabeth’s private chambers, the Scottish ambassador was ‘accidentally’ shown a miniature of Dudley, labelled ‘My lordes picture’. Elizabeth declined his request to take it for Mary as ‘sche had bot that ane of his’.

Sir James Melville’s autograph memoirs, c. 1600: Add MS 37977, ff. 33v–34r

Melville’s memoirs provide a fascinating insight into Elizabeth’s preoccupation with her Scottish cousin and the human curiosity and rivalry which lay at the heart of their relationship. Over the course of his visit, Elizabeth bombarded Melville with questions about Mary’s appearance. When quizzed about which of the two queens was fairest, he tactfully replied that both were ‘the fairest ladyes off thar courtes, and that the quen of england whas whytter, bot our quen was very lusome [attractive]’. On hearing that Mary was taller, Elizabeth retorted that Mary ‘was ouer heych, and that hir self was nother ouer hich nor ouer laich’. Further questions about Mary’s accomplishments followed, and Elizabeth was interested to hear that her cousin played the virginals ‘raisonably for a quen’. Later that evening, Elizabeth had a courtier escort Melville to a gallery where she was playing the virginals ‘excellently weill’. When pressed by Elizabeth to declare which queen played the virginals better, Melville ‘gaif hir the prayse’.

Melville’s memoirs are on display in the British Library’s major exhibition, Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens until 20 February 2022. Tickets can be bought in advance or on the day, subject to availability.

 

Anna Turnham and Andrea Clarke

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Queen Elizabeth I composed her most famous poem, ‘The doubt [fear] of future foes’, during the winter of 1569–70, in the immediate aftermath of the Northern Rebellion against her. In it she expressed defiance towards Mary, Queen of Scots, and the English catholics who supported Mary’s claim to the throne. Mary was ‘the doughter of debate’ and ‘forren banyshed wyght [contemptuous woman]’, sowing ‘dyscorde’ amongst Elizabeth’s subjects.

A gold pendant known as ‘The Phoenix Jewel’, c. 1570–80, British Museum, Sl.Misc.1778, on loan to the British Library’s major exhibition Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens. The obverse shows a bust of Elizabeth I in silhouette, the reverse the device of a phoenix in flames under Elizabeth’s monogram and crown.

Written in long-line couplets, employing metaphors of sedition growing like rank weeds in a garden, only to be swept away by changing political weather, the poem apparently reflected Elizabeth’s private thoughts. At first it circulated in manuscript among her courtiers, almost certainly with the queen’s consent, but it was quickly more widely disseminated as demand for copies grew. Whatever Elizabeth’s original intention, the poem’s message was very public. In it she warned that she would ‘brouke [permit] no sedicions’. ‘Let [her enemies] ell[e]swheare Resort/ My Rustye sworde throughe Reste/ Shall fyrst his edge imploye/ To pole [chop off] theyr topp[e]s that seke suche chaunge/ Or gapes for future Ioye [Joy]’.

Poem by Elizabeth I, ‘The dowt [fear] of future foos [foes], exiles my pr[e]sent Ioye [Joy]’, 1569–70: Add MS 82370, f. 45v

In October 1569, Thomas Howard, 4th duke of Norfolk, was sent to the Tower of London for plotting to marry Mary, who had been a prisoner in England since fleeing her kingdom the previous year. Norfolk had made common cause with the disgruntled northern peers, Thomas Percy, 7th earl of Northumberland, and Charles Neville, 6th earl of Westmorland, who both felt marginalised by Elizabeth’s protestant government. While on his way to the Tower, Norfolk sent Northumberland and Westmorland a message, urging them not to rebel, ‘for if they did, it shuld cost hym his heade’ (The National Archives, SP 12/81/57, M. f. 140r). Fearing their own arrests for conspiring against the crown, they ignored Norfolk’s plea and early in November raised the standard of rebellion at Brancepeth in County Durham.

John Rudd, map of County Durham, in the Burghley-Saxton Atlas, 1576: Royal MS 18 D III, ff. 69v–70r

On 14 November 1569, Northumberland and Westmorland set up the mass again at Durham Cathedral, and then elsewhere in the North. The rebel aims were to depose Elizabeth in favour of Mary and to restore catholicism throughout the realm. Although quickly crushed, the government regarded the Northern Rebellion as a considerable threat and 600 rebels were executed as a warning to the catholic North. Northumberland and Westmorland fled to Scotland, where Northumberland was captured on Christmas Eve. In June 1572, in return for £2,000, he was delivered by the Scots into English hands. His fate seemed uncertain at first, but he was beheaded for treason at York on 22 August. Westmorland was more fortunate and escaped overseas, where he remained fugitive for the rest of his life. Having been reprieved for his part in the Northern Rebellion, Norfolk was beheaded on 2 June 1572 for further plotting against Elizabeth.

A decade or more after Elizabeth composed ‘The doubt of future foes’, the Yorkshire yeoman farmer John Hanson copied it into his household book (now Add MS 82370), perhaps in the wake of Mary’s execution and the Spanish Armada. By then the poem had taken on a more direct meaning, as the queen had acted on her threat to ‘pole theyr topp[e]s’. Hanson’s copy includes a significant number of errors, a reflection of just how far the poem had circulated since its composition, having been copied and miscopied many times. Rediscovered in 2007, Hanson’s household book — a miscellany of writings for practical, everyday use — offers insights into the lives of some of Elizabeth’s humbler, provincial subjects, who nonetheless still showed a keen interest in the great affairs of state. As well as poetry and prose fiction, Hanson copied down tenurial records, calendars, and advice on hunting and fishing, including recipes for things like ‘stink bait’, to be used when angling.

Our major exhibition, Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens, is on at the British Library in London until 20 February 2022. Tickets can be bought in advance or on the day, subject to availability.

 

Alan Bryson

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Some writings burn with anger even after more than four centuries. Two such are memoranda by Robert Beale, Clerk to the Privy Council of Queen Elizabeth I. Anger, but also astonishing bluntness from a leading — and loyal — functionary of the state. Beale was furious at Elizabeth’s attempts to foist the blame for the death of Mary, Queen of Scots, on to others: first, by asking her subjects to murder Mary, and then by blaming Secretary of State William Davison and the Privy Council over the delivery of the death warrant that the Queen had signed. Beale was the man who had carried the death warrant to Fotheringhay and had read it at Mary's execution.

Mary, Queen of Scots, loomed large in Beale’s career. Since at least 1572, he had been convinced that Mary’s death would be for the good of the Queen of England and of the Protestant religion. On four occasions he was sent to negotiate with the imprisoned Scottish queen. He noted the personal messages that Elizabeth added to the formal letters that he carried to Mary: ‘Your dearest Sister if it had pleased you so to have kept her El. R’ (27 May 1583); ‘Your Cousin even so is one as by desertes you might have had affectionate unto you El R’ (4 May 1584).

A note in Beale’s hand of one of Elizabeth’s personal messages to Mary, Queen of Scots: Add MS 48049, f. 199r

Beale collected originals or copies of many of the most important papers and polemics about Mary over the years. Much of his collection on Mary is now preserved in one volume (Add MS 48027), from which three items are displayed in Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens. The first is a copy of the Bond of Association — the oath of loyal Englishmen in 1584 to unleash lynch law against those who attempted to harm Elizabeth or for whose cause they acted — as signed by Mary herself, with an attempt to mimic her signature: ‘This have I Robert Beale seen under the hand and seale of the Scotish Queen hade remaining with Mr Secretary Walsingham’. The second is his copy of the proclamation pronouncing Mary’s guilt, with his note of its reading in the City of London. The third is Beale’s own drawing of her execution. This blogpost discusses other documents in the same volume.

Robert Beale’s eye-witness drawing of the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots (1587): Add MS 48027/1, f. 650*r

In the aftermath of Mary's execution on 8 February 1587, Secretary Davison had been imprisoned in the Tower of London and tried before the Star Chamber. Beale wrote a full account of his own part in delivering the commission for the execution, restating its lawfulness and stressing that it was, as far as he knew, the Queen’s will. This account was perhaps written about the time of Davison’s trial, when it was unclear if he would not share Mary's fate. Beale kept a copy of the Queen’s warrant, adding in his own hand ‘Elizabeth R’ and specifying ‘Her Maiesty hand was also in the toppe’.

The first page of Beale’s copy of the commission for the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots. The Queen’s signature and the note at the top are in his hand: Add MS 48027, f. 645r

One memorandum provides Beale's fiercest criticism of Elizabeth. Written on the back of an account of Davison’s trial, he records how a copy of the proceedings was sent to the Scottish Ambassador to show the English Queen’s innocence. Beale disapproved of the Council’s self-incriminating submission provided for the same purpose: ‘Imprudenter: To take soche a matter uppon them: being of so great a moment. It may serve as an Evidence to condemne.’

Beale’s reflections on Elizabeth I’s responsibility, in his own hand: Add MS 48027, f. 690v

Beale went even further. He compared Elizabeth to the French King, Charles IX, whose plan to murder Admiral Coligny triggered the Massacre of St Bartholomew in Paris, in which thousands of Protestants were murdered: ‘Anno 1572: Immediately uppon the Massacre of the Admirall &c the king wold have layed it uppon the house of Guise: and so were his lettres. But they wold not beare yt: and so he was faine to advowe yt himself.’ Beale’s account here is pretty accurate: Charles had indeed initially tried to lay the blame on the Duke of Guise for what he himself had ordered, but quickly had to admit the truth. It is remarkable to see a loyal subject and committed Protestant comparing Elizabeth I to the king responsible for such a notorious atrocity. Hardly less surprising is Beale's implicit parallel between both the Queen’s dutiful servants and the ultra-Catholic Duke of Guise as being victims of royal duplicity. 

Our major exhibition, Elizabeth and Mary: Royal Cousins, Rival Queens, is on at the British Library in London until 20 February 2022. Tickets can be bought in advance or on the day, subject to availability.

 

Tim Wales

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