Five hundred years ago, on 7 June 1520, in a field in northern France, two monarchs rode to meet each other, doffed their caps, dismounted, and embraced as brothers: they were François I of France (1515–1547) and Henry VIII of England (1509–1547). The two kings met south of the village of Andres, roughly halfway between the French castle at Ardres (Cotton MS Augustus I II 74) and the English castle at Guînes (Cotton MS Augustus I II 12), watched and cheered by their assembled courts. The site had been chosen because it lay on the southern border of the Calais Pale, a territory held since 1347 by the kings of England as part of their claim to the kingdom of France.

Portrait of King François I of France by Godefroy le Batave, 1519: Harley MS 6205, f. 3r

Portrait of King Henry VIII of England by an unknown artist, c. 1520: National Portrait Gallery 4690

Cardinal Thomas Wolsey was the driving force behind the meeting between François and Henry, motivated in part by his own personal ambition and a genuine desire to promote peace, but also by the need to create the means whereby his master, Henry, could achieve comparable status to his wealthier and more powerful brother monarchs. To that end, Wolsey had negotiated the 1518 Treaty of London, binding Pope Leo X, Holy Roman Emperor Maximilian I and his grandson, the king of Spain, as well as François, Henry, and more than a dozen other princes and states, to a non-aggression pact. This ‘universal peace’, first proposed by Leo, only for Wolsey to appropriate the idea, made Henry the arbiter of Christendom. But it served the further purpose of reining in François, who had invaded Italy and conquered the duchy of Milan within months of becoming king.

Plan of the French castle at Ardres by Giovanni Rossetti, c. 1543: Cotton MS Augustus I II 74

When Maximilian died in 1519, his grandson succeeded him as Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, ruling over Austria, Spain (and its New World empire), the Netherlands, and Naples, making him the most powerful man in Europe. His only real rivals were François and the Ottoman sultan, Suleiman the Magnificent. It was in order to forge a powerful place for Henry, under changing geopolitical circumstances, that Wolsey invited Charles to England for talks in late May 1520 before Henry’s departure to meet François. Henry had two options for influencing Charles and François: make magnificent war or make magnificent peace, always with the purpose of playing one off in his favour against the other.

View of the English castle at Guînes, 2nd quarter of the 16th century: Cotton MS Augustus I II 12

On 31 May 1520, Henry and Queen Katherine of Aragon embarked for France, accompanied by 6,000 of their subjects and all the rich splendour of the court. The meeting with François was to take the form of a tournament, to inaugurate the peace between England and France. Traditional enemies, the two kingdoms had been at war as recently as 1514. Mistrust and hostility persisted. The French were ‘dogs and knaves’, viewed as cowardly and duplicitous; they, in turn, regarded the English as backward and brutish (Correspondance politique de MM. de Castillon et de Marillac, ed. J. Kaulek (Paris, 1885), no. 247).  Yet Henry spoke French well, and French culture had a profound influence on his court and its tastes. Before his meeting with François, for example, the clean-shaven Henry grew a beard in imitation of the French king, giving him the appearance by which we know him today. François was equally cultured. Both men were tall, strong and athletic. Both loved the noble pastimes of hunting and jousting. At François’s request, Henry had his armour adapted to the latest French fashion prior to the tournament.

A pavilion in the green and white livery colours of the Tudors: Cotton MS Augustus I II 76

After that initial meeting on 7 June 1520, François and Henry demonstrated their princely power and prestige in a daily round of tournaments, entertainments and banquets lasting more than two weeks. Massive temporary palaces were erected to house both the kings and their courts. Some original designs for Henry’s tents survive. One shows a pavilion in the green and white livery colours of the Tudors (Cotton MS Augustus I II 76). The two larger central tents depicted here are linked by galleries. All are decorated with candelabra, arabesque and foliage motifs, showing the influence of the Italian renaissance on the English court (as mediated through France and the Netherlands). So costly and sumptuous were the tents, the tapestries and the hangings decorating and subdividing them, and the clothes worn by the monarchs and their courts, that they lent the meeting its name: the Field of Cloth of Gold or Camp du Drap d’Or. Cloth of gold was fabric woven with silk and gold thread fit for a king.

Other designs for Henry VIII's tents at the Field of Cloth of Gold are found in Cotton MS Augustus III/1, ff. 11r, 18r, 19r

The universal peace that the Field of Cloth of Gold had celebrated proved short-lived, and England and France were once more at war in 1522. Yet Henry’s relationship with François remained complex, an unstable combination of admiration, emulation and enmity, of peace punctuated by war.

 

Alan Bryson

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The later their date, the lower their quality. This is how some 19th-century scholars approached Greek manuscripts from after 1200. In the quest for the earliest exemplars, hundreds of late medieval and early modern manuscripts were ignored and marginalised as irrelevant late copies.

Despite the many warnings against this view, it was only in 1934 that an Italian scholar, Giorgio Pasquali (1882-1952), finally put it in writing that 'late manuscripts are not bad manuscripts'. They can be important for a number reasons: for the texts they preserve, for the way they present them or, frankly, just for themselves as books of their age.

Representation of a lizard from a 16th-century copy of a Byzantine Bestiary (France, 2nd quarter of the 16th century–3rd quarter of the 16th century), Burney MS 97, f. 24v (detail)

The exceptional collection of Greek manuscripts in the British Library illustrates the truth of Pasquali’s axiom. The Library holds manuscripts that highlight the role of later Greek manuscripts in the development of printing Greek in the West, and that represent interesting interactions of print and manuscript culture in the 16th century.

Thanks to generous funding we received from the Hellenic Foundation last year, we have been able to digitise seven 18th-century Greek manuscripts which amply demonstate why later manuscripts can be just as fascinating as ancient ones.

Old texts in new manuscripts

The most obvious reason why a later manuscript can be of key importance is if it preserves the only copy of an ancient text. One of the volumes digitised during the project (Add MS 78675) is an example of this.

Illuminated headpiece from the beginning of an unidentified rhetorical text, (Eastern Mediterranean, 18th century), Add MS 78675, f. 1r

Written in nice 18th-century Greek cursive, the manuscript contains texts designed to help the reader to write in polished Greek language. The first text is a long unpublished manual of rhetoric in two parts. It consists of a general introduction to rhetoric, followed by a long treatise on how to tackle and refute arguments of opponents at court.

We have not been able to identify the author of this text but we found other copies of it in four manuscripts: two in Paris and two in the British Library (Add MS 39622, ff. 100-196r, and Add MS 18190, ff. 90-151v). Interestingly, the manuscripts are all from the 18th century but the text itself looks older. Analysing its wording and content, the closest parallels are all from 5th/6th-century rhetorical treatises. This suggests that it may be an ancient rhetorical tract which resurfaced in the 17th/18th century and was spread only in later Greek manuscripts. The text would certainly deserve a full study and edition, which the recently digitised manuscripts will surely facilitate.

Ancient and modern in one manuscript

Another reason why later manuscripts are exciting is that they show how texts from classical antiquity came down to us through the medieval and early modern eras. Another newly digitised Greek manuscript (Add MS 39619) presents this remarkably well.

Copied in 1712 somewhere in the region of Arta in north-western Greece, it was acquired by the English traveller Robert Curzon (1810-1873) and bequeathed to the Library by his heirs in 1917. See more about Greek manuscripts from Curzon’s collection.

The volume is a handy collection of texts instructing the reader on how to compose letters. It starts with a 4th-century collection of samples to convince, refute, denigrate or praise others. This text is followed by a similar but updated collection, which replaces the ancient samples with new ones taken from the Gospels (f. 37r) or Byzantine history (f. 44r).

Sample of a refutation using a Byzantine historical topic, 'that what historians write about the Emperor Leo the Wise is not likely to be true', from a collection of Greek rhetorical texts (Region of Arta, 1712), Add MS 39619, f. 44v (detail)

This long series of Byzantine sample texts is followed by some actual examples to show how the theory is to be put into practice. It is illustrated by a selection of letters from a contemporary ecclesiastic, Anastasius Gordius (1654-1720). Anastasius studied in Western Europe and spoke and wrote in Italian as well as in Latin. He lived as a monk in his village and served as a doctor, philanthropist and teacher of rhetoric, and was canonized as a saint in the 18th century. Interestingly, the manuscript was written in his lifetime and is a clear example of how ancient Greek rhetoric stayed alive, transmitted through classical texts and their Byzantine adaptations to be used by Early Modern Greek intellectuals.

Beginning of a selection of letters from Anasatasius Gordius (Region of Arta, 1712), Add MS 39619, f. 101r (detail)

Late manuscripts as books

Another recently digitised manuscript (Add MS 78674) shows why these late copies are interesting just for themselves. Copied in 1738 by an unknown scribe, the volume preserves a long commentary on Aristotle’s logical works written by one of the most important Byzantine philosophers of the early 17th century, Theophilus Corydalleus. The volume exhibits a mixture of Eastern and Western layout and decoration, just as the author himself conflated Western philosophical ideas, learned during his education at the best universities in Italy, with Byzantine theological heritage.

Diagram of philosophical concepts from the Commentary of Theophilus Corydalleus on Aristotle’s logical works (Eastern Mediterranean, 1738), Add MS 78674, f. 66r (detail)

The coloured diagrams illustrating the philosophical reasoning seem to go back to earlier Byzantine or even ancient examples. The frequently recurring motif of a vase at the foot of some of these diagrams resembles the decoration of the 5th-century Codex Alexandrinus.

Tailpiece at the end of the Acts of the Apostles from one of the earliest complete Bible manuscripts, the Codex Alexandrinus (Eastern Mediterranean, 5th century), Royal MS 1 D VIII, f. 76r (detail)

Yet at the same time, the neatly designed table of contents, showing chapters with folio numbers at the end of the volume, looks like a modern Western print.

Table of content from the end of the Commentary of Theophilus Corydalleus on Aristotle’s logical works (Eastern Mediterranean, 1738), Add MS 78674, f. 270r (detail)

We are very grateful for the generous support of the Hellenic Foundation which helped us digitise and highlight these later Greek manuscripts. They provide ample illustration that late manuscripts ARE NOT bad manuscripts.

Peter Toth

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Around fifty years before the making of the Worms Bible, which we featured recently on the blog, another giant Bible was produced at the abbey of St Remaclus at Stavelot, not far from Liège, in modern-day Belgium. Both volumes of the awe-inspiring Stavelot Bible are digitised and available online as Add MS 28106 and Add MS 28107.

The monk Goderannus recorded that he and brother Ernesto spent four years working on the Stavelot Bible, and he was precise about what had been achieved in that time. He stated that the writing, illuminating and binding (scriptura, illuminatione, ligatura) had all been completed in 1097.

Despite this specificity, scholars still disagree on whether the two monks (or Ernesto at least) were the artists as well as the scribes of this impressive work. Some speculate that the artists were paid laymen instead of monks, and hence were omitted from the long colophon. Moreover, the difference in style between initials and other painting included in the work suggests that more than two people may have been involved in their production—one scholar identified five different artists.

Christ in Majesty, his feet on a ‘T-O’ map, with the symbols of the Four Evangelists in the corners, Add MS 28107, f. 136r

What is clear, however, is the quality and the sheer monumentality of the painting included in the Stavelot Bible. Its most famous image, which opens the New Testament, is the huge full-page vision of Christ in Majesty surrounded by the symbols of the Four Evangelists. This painting is a powerful icon-like frontal presentation of Christ at the end of time. Christ’s feet rest on the globe of the world divided into three parts (a medieval ‘T-O’ map, of the orbis terrarum, which looks like the letter ‘T’ inside the letter ‘O’), and he holds a golden cross in his left hand. For contemporary viewers, this image may have recalled large scale paintings in church apses, as John Lowden suggested.

St Luke at the beginning of the prologue to his Gospel, Add MS 28107, f. 161v

The tall standing or seated prophets and Evangelists depicted at the beginning of their texts are equally expressive and prepossessing. These include unusual standing Evangelists holding scrolls before the prefaces to their Gospels, such as the image of St Luke above.

Genesis initial ‘I’(n), with the Annunciation, Nativity, Baptism, Crucifixion, Deposition, Resurrection, and Christ in Majesty running upwards from the bottom, in the central medallions, Add MS 28106, f. 6r

Painting on a much smaller scale is featured in the Bible's historiated initials. The most complex symbolism is reserved for the long initial ‘I’ (In principio) of Genesis that opens the first volume of the Stavelot Bible. Many small pictures cluster in and around the initial, and depict not the Days of Creation, as is typical in Genesis initials, but rather a series of scenes that provide a visual commentary on the story of salvation.

The words In principio read downwards in the centre, but all of the image sequences begin at the bottom of the page. The central group of roundels start with the Annunciation and culminate with an image of Christ in Majesty at the top. The Crucifixion forms the central part of the composition, and all around are other images from both the Old and New Testaments.

Details of the Annunciation, Crucifixion and Christ in Majesty roundels, Add MS 28106, f. 6r

On the left side of the initial is the Expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden, Noah building the Ark, the Sacrifice of Isaac, and Moses receiving and then breaking the Tablets of the Law, below Christ preaching and angels. Related events fit in around these scenes, such as the Worshipping of the Golden Calf below Moses.

Detail of Moses receiving and breaking the Tablets of the Law, and the Worship of the Golden Calf, Add MS 28106, f. 6r

To the right of the central axis is an extended rare depiction of one of Christ’s parables, that of the Labourers in the Vineyard (Matthew 20:1-6), in which the kingdom of heaven is likened to a householder who hires labourers to work in his vineyard at different times of the day. All around the medallions in which the hiring process is enacted the labourers are engaged in pruning and caring for the vines.

Detail of the householder hiring labourers, and the labourers at work in the vineyard, Add MS 28106, f. 6r

This creative and unusual interpretation suggests a relatively high level of familiarity and understanding of the biblical text. In turn, this implies that if brothers Goderannus and Ernesto did not complete the illumination of the Bible themselves, they may have designed and supervised the work of those who did.

You can read more about the Stavelot Bible and find out about two other manuscripts from Stavelot in our previous blogposts. For another giant Romanesque Bible, see our recent blogpost on the Arnstein Bible.

Kathleen Doyle
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Further reading

Wayne Dynes, The Illuminations of the Stavelot Bible (New York, 1978).

John Lowden, ‘Illustration in biblical manuscripts’, in The New Cambridge History of the Bible, 4 vols (Cambridge, 2012- ), II: From 600 to 1450, ed. by Richard Marsden and E. Ann Matter (2012) pp. 446-81 (p. 454).

Made to take pride of place on the abbey's high altar, the St Albans Benefactors' Book reads like a who's who of medieval England. It preserves hundreds of names, details and portraits of people who made gifts to the Abbey of St Albans throughout the Middle Ages. Far more than a list of donors, it presents a vivid picture of a community and all the individuals who comprised it. Its pages bustle with the life and colour of medieval society.

King Offa of Mercia (d. 796), who is said to have founded St Albans Abbey: Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 3v

The Benefactors' Book (Cotton MS Nero D VII) was begun around 1380 as a register of members of the Abbey's confraternity, established by Abbot Thomas de la Mare (r. 1350–96). According to the preface, anyone who made a donation could be admitted into the confraternity, which granted them a lavish induction ceremony, spiritual benefits and a record in this prestigious book.

As well as recording contemporary donors, the entries stretch far back into the Abbey's past, beginning with King Offa of Mercia who is said to have founded the Abbey in 793 (pictured above). Spaces were also left for future entries, and the abbey continued to add the details of new benefactors into the 16th century.

Æthelgifu, a 10th-century noblewoman who gave lands, 30 gold mancuses, 30 oxen, 20 cows, 250 sheep, a herd of pigs with a swineherd, 2 silver cups, 2 horns, a book, a curtain and a cushion: Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 90r

The job of compiling the register from the Abbey's old documents was given to Thomas Walsingham (d. c. 1422), the precentor of the Abbey and a prominent historian. The scribe was a monk of the Abbey named William de Wyllum, and the illuminator was a professional lay artist named Alan Strayler who waived the cost of the pigments in return for his place among the Abbey's benefactors (f. 108r).

Self-portrait of Alan Strayler, the artist who illuminated the book: Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 108r

The book presents an orderly view of medieval society. The benefactors are organised according to social hierarchy: kings and queens first, followed by popes, abbots, priors and monks of St Albans, bishops and finally laypeople. All levels of society who could afford to donate are included, from members of the royal family and knightly aristocracy, to London burghers, fishmongers, millers and masons.

Nigel the miller who gave a yearly sum of 4 shillings: St Albans Benefactors' Book, Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 96r

Strayler's lively portraits are full of individuality. People assume different postures, facial features, expressions and gestures. They wear detailed costumes appropriate to their social rank and many of them are shown proudly clutching the prized objects that they donated to the Abbey. Although it is unclear how closely they reflect the actual appearances of the people they represent, the portraits give a vivid impression of assorted personalities and walks of life.

Joan, countess of Kent, and princess of Wales and of Aquitaine (d. 1385), who gave a gold necklace and 100 shillings: St Albans Benefactors' Book, Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 7v

Robert Chamberleyn, squire of the king, who gave wine liberally (1417): Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 142v

Where details of a person's appearance were known, it seems that Strayler took care to include them. For example, abbot of St Albans Richard of Wallingford (d. 1336), a gifted astronomer who created an extraordinary astronomical clock for the Abbey, is depicted with a blemished face, reflecting the fact that he was said to have suffered from leprosy.

Richard of Wallingford, abbot of St Albans (d. 1336), with his clock: Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 20r

Similarly, a man named Æthelwine the Black (Egelwynnus ye Swarte) who, together with his wife Wynflæd, gave land to the abbey in the time of King Edward the Confessor (r. 1042–1066), is depicted with dark skin.

Æthelwine the Black (Egelwynus ye Swarte) and his wife Wynflæd, who gave land to the abbey in 11th century: Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 89v

Just as fascinating as the benefactors are their gifts, which richly evoke the splendour of medieval material culture. Besides land, property and money, people gave treasures such as jewellery, vestments, chalices, bowls, horns, bells, statues, precious stones and books.

Petronilla de Benstede who gave a round super-altar of jasper set in silver on which St Augustine of Canterbury was said to have celebrated: Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 101v

The entries are suffused with hints of stories that leave you longing to know more. For example, in the section on abbots of St Albans, we learn of Abbot Ealdred who filled in the cave of a dragon, and the unfortunate Abbot John Berkamsted who 'did nothing memorable in his life' (nichil memorabile fecit in vita).

Ealdred, abbot of St Albans in the 11th century, who filled in the cave of a dragon: Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 12v

John Berkamsted, abbot of St Albans (d. 1302), who 'did nothing memorable in his life', Cotton MS Nero D VII, f. 19r

Unlike the chronicles that Thomas Walsingham would go on to write, this is a history not of momentous events but of the colourful characters, precious gifts and shared stories that were the fabric of the Abbey's community for centuries.

Now you can immerse yourself in this captivating book too: the manuscript is newly digitised and available to view on our Digitised Manuscripts site.

Eleanor Jackson

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On the 21st of May 1390, during a three-year truce in the Hundred Years’ War, the French knights, Boucicaut, de Roye and Saint Pi, set up three luxurious crimson tents in a spacious field between Calais and the Abbey of Saint-Inglevert. They issued a challenge to all comers for a friendly trial of arms lasting 30 days. Many English knights attended, one being Sir John Holland, Earl of Huntingdon, who was highly applauded for his contests against Boucicaut and de Roye. Afterwards, Huntingdon asked to be allowed one more challenge for the love of his lady, but this was not permitted by the rules. Over four days of tilting, more than 40 challenges were issued, each one described in detail by the writer Jean Froissart in his Chronicles.

The tournament of Saint-Inglevert, in the Harley Froissart, Harley MS 4379, f. 43r

Chivalric tournaments were a regular form of aristocratic entertainment from the 12th century onwards, often accompanying great occasions such as coronations or marriages. These simulated battles were well-planned and choreographed events where a knight could show off his skills. They also served as a training ground for real warfare.

The warmer months were the popular season for tournaments, as shown by this image of the activity for the month of June from a 16th-century Book of Hours known as the Golf Book. Calendars in these books often contain miniatures of the labours of the months, cycles of largely agricultural activities such as reaping and ploughing that were carried out throughout the year, but here sports and games supplement these traditional scenes. The miniature shows knights jousting and sword-fighting on horseback in a crowded arena. Below the picture is a border scene of figures riding on wooden hobby horses and holding toy windmills, perhaps intended as a parody of the tournament above.

A tournament before a city, workshop of Simon Bening, in the Golf Book, Add MS 24098, f. 23v

A winter tournament was held to celebrate the coronation of Joan of Navarre, wife of Henry IV of France in February 1403, in which Sir Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, fought as her champion. This drawing from his illustrated biography, the recently digitised Pageants of Richard Beauchamp, shows him wearing a helmet with the Warwick emblem, a bear with ragged staff, while the queen points to him from the balcony.

Beauchamp jousting in Queen Joan's coronation tournament, in the Pageants of Richard Beauchamp, Cotton MS Julius E IV/3, f. 3r

The medieval travel narrative The Travels of Sir John Mandeville describes a tournament in Constantinople, watched by the Byzantine emperor. The event is depicted in this elaborate scene based on a Czech translation of the Travels, illustrated in Bohemia in the early 15th century.

A tournament in Constantinople with jousting, in the Travels of Sir John Mandeville, Add MS 24189, f. 15v

Some of the most fabulous images of martial display are from manuscripts of courtly romance literature, which provided inspiration for the real events, with medieval knights doing their best to emulate Arthurian super-heroes like Sir Lancelot. This scene is from the romance of Méliadus about the chivalric deeds of Tristan’s father. In one episode, Méliadus falls in love with the queen of Scotland when he sees her passing in a magnificent procession on her way to a tournament. He takes part, defeating numerous challengers and winning the queen’s admiration. He is usually portrayed bearing the Neapolitan arms in this manuscript, which was copied and decorated for the king of Naples, Louis de Tarente, who founded the first Italian order of knighthood, the Nodo (knot).

Méliadus fights in a tournament with the Queen of Scotland watching, in Méliadus, Add MS 12228, ff. 214v-215r

Medieval tournaments usually consisted of a melée, or mock combat between two teams, preceded by jousting between individuals, as depicted in this miniature from the French romance of Ponthus et Sidoine. To cut a long story short, Ponthus is heir to the kingdom of Galicia and one of Hoel’s knights. He falls secretly in love with Sidoine, who is promised in marriage to the Duke of Burgundy, and he has to flee to Britain to escape her father’s wrath. Returning to Brittany on his way to win back his kingdom, he finds that Sidoine’s wedding to the duke is about to be celebrated with a tournament. Disguised as a white knight, he kills the Duke in a joust, winning Sidoine’s hand. He regains his kingdom and the pair rule as joint monarchs of Galicia and Brittany. This plot is almost identical to the English romance of King Horn, though most names have been changed.

Ponthus kills the Duke of Burgundy, in the Shrewsbury Book, Royal MS 15 E VI, f. 220v

Somewhere between medieval legend and recorded history is a work known as Le Petit Jean de Saintré. It claims to be a chivalric biography, and there was indeed a knight by this name who lived about a hundred years before it was written, but the author pays little attention to historical facts. The young Jean is educated in the values of knighthood by the Dame des Belles-Cousines, who instructs him on a variety of subjects from the seven deadly sins to personal grooming. He travels around the courts of Europe, winning fame at many tournaments, but in a surprising plot twist at the end, the virtuous Dame falls prey to a lusty monk, much to the dismay of her earnest young champion.

Jean de Saintré in a tournament, Cotton MS Nero D IX, f. 32v

But not everyone took tournaments so seriously. In this manuscript border, two men in wicker armour tilt at each other while riding on sheep, and one falls clumsily to the ground. Looks like quite the baa-lancing act!

Men jousting on sheep in an illuminated border from a book of Gospels, Royal MS 1 E V, f. 171r

Chantry Westwell

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This week we are looking back at the British Library's Anglo-Saxon Kingdoms exhibition which opened to the public in October 2018. By the time the exhibition closed four months later, the enigmatic figure of ‘Spong Man’ had greeted over 108,000 visitors.

‘Spong Man’, on loan from Norwich Castle Museum (1994.192.1)

Excavated in Norfolk about 40 years ago, Spong Man is the ceramic lid of a cremation urn, who had travelled from his current home in Norwich Castle Museum to London for the exhibition. Sitting with his head in his hands, he looked visitors straight in the eye and welcomed them to his 5th-century world. While Spong Man sat alone, some of the most memorable moments in the exhibition were manuscripts brought together for display alongside each other, thanks to the generosity of so many lenders. Here is a reminder of just a few.

Just behind Spong Man was a single exhibition case containing the St Augustine Gospels, perhaps brought from Rome by St Augustine in 597, the Moore Bede, probably the earliest copy of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History, and the Textus Roffensis, which contains the first piece of English law and the earliest datable text written in English.

The St Augustine Gospels, on loan from Cambridge, Corpus Christi College (MS 286) © Corpus Christi College, Cambridge

The Moore Bede, on loan from Cambridge University Library (MS Kk.5.16) © Cambridge University Library

Textus Roffensis, on loan from Rochester Cathedral Library (MS A. 3. 5)

Round the corner, the Book of Durrow and the Echternach Gospels shared a case.

The Book of Durrow, on loan from Dublin, Trinity College Library (MS 57) © Trinity College Dublin

The Echternach Gospels, on loan from Paris, Bibliothèque nationale de France (MS lat. 9389)

In the same room were the Durham Gospels next to the Lindisfarne Gospels and, at the far end, two manuscripts made at Wearmouth-Jarrow in the early 8th century were reunited when the pocket-sized St Cuthbert Gospel, acquired by the British Library in 2012, was displayed next to the giant Codex Amiatinus, which had returned from Italy to Britain for the first time in over 1300 years.

The St Cuthbert Gospel (British Library, Add MS 89000)

Codex Amiatinus, on loan from Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana (MS Amiatino 1)

The room focusing on Mercia included the Lichfield Angel, discovered in 2003, displayed next to King Offa’s gold dinar.

The Lichfield Angel, on loan from Lichfield Cathedral

Gold dinar of King Offa, on loan from the British Museum (CM 1913,1213.1) © Trustees of the British Museum

Highlights of the room on the West Saxons were the Alfred Jewel displayed directly in front of a case containing the copy of the Pastoral Care that Alfred sent to Worcester.

The Alfred Jewel, on loan from Oxford, Ashmolean Museum (AN1836 p.135.371)

The Pastoral Care, on loan from Oxford, Bodleian Library (MS Hatton 20)

The section on languages and literature was dominated by a replica of the Ruthwell Cross with its extracts from the poem ‘The Dream of the Rood’.

The Ruthwell Cross replica in the gallery

Nearby the cases containing the Four Poetic Codices, brought together for the first time Beowulf, the Vercelli Book (containing the whole text of ‘The Dream of the Rood’), the Exeter Book and the Junius Manuscript.

The Four Poetic Codices on display in the exhibition: Beowulf (British Library, Cotton MS Vitellius A XV); The Vercelli Book, on loan from Vercelli, Biblioteca Capitolare (MS CXVII); The Junius Manuscript, on loan from Oxford, Bodleian Library (MS Junius 11); The Exeter Book, on loan from Exeter Cathedral Library (MS 3501)

Further on, the jewelled binding of the Gospels of Judith of Flanders was displayed in the centre of the room containing eight highlights of the manuscript art from the late 10th- and 11th-century kingdom of England.

The Judith of Flanders Gospels, on loan from New York, Morgan Library (MS M 708) © The Pierpont Morgan Library and Museum, New York

Towards the end of the exhibition the Domesday surveyors’ questions and part of the Exon Domesday survey were displayed with Domesday Book itself, showing the vast amount of evidence it reveals about the landscape, organisation and wealth of late Anglo-Saxon England.

Great Domesday Book, on loan from The National Archives (E/31/2/2)

Finally, and several hours later for some dedicated visitors, the exhibition ended with the Utrecht Psalter, the Harley Psalter and the Eadwine Psalter, which drew together key themes in the exhibition: the connections between Europe and the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms, the movement of manuscripts, and the development and continuity of the English language.

The Utrecht Psalter, on loan from Utrecht, Universiteitsbibliotheek (MS 32) © Utrecht University Library

The Harley Psalter, British Library Harley MS 603

The Eadwine Psalter, on loan from Cambridge, Trinity College (MS R.17.1)

Although the exhibition closed in February 2019, you can continue to explore exhibits through the collection items and articles featured in our Anglo-Saxons website, and the exhibition catalogue is available from the British Library online shop.

 

Claire Breay

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Early in the 1400s, Ulrich von Pottenstein (c. 1360–1417), a clerk and chaplain to Duke Albert IV of Austria, translated into German a collection of Latin fables. Known in their expanded version as Das Buch der natürlichen Weisheit ('The Book of Natural Wisdom'), these fables describe the interactions between animals, humans, plants and the natural elements in order to teach moral lessons to their readers. One of the finest illustrated copies of this work, found in Egerton MS 1121, has recently been digitised. This manuscript, containing more than 70 fables, can teach us much about wisdom, beginning with:

(1) Listen to your sense of reason.

When the animals gather to choose the wisest, they divide into two factions. The land animals nominate the Fox and the birds elect the Raven. But the Monkey intervenes, explaining that they have chosen not with reason but with carelessness and poor judgement. They have allowed themselves to be misled, mistaking the cunning of the Fox and Raven for wisdom.

The Fox and Raven are chosen as the wisest animals: Egerton MS 1121, f. 4v

(2) Question things that appear to be certain.

The Fox plays dead in order to catch the Raven, who is sitting in a tree. The scavenging bird comes closer but, knowing the Fox’s cunning, inspects the ‘carcass’ from a safe distance. When the Raven notices that the Fox’s heart is beating, he drops a stone on his head and calls him out as a deceiver. The Fox, in turn, drops his charade.

The Fox and the Raven: Egerton MS 1121, f. 7v

(3) Choose your company carefully.

The Fox has remorse for his sins and decides to go on a pilgrimage. En route, the Dog, Donkey, Bear, Lion, Wolf, Swine and Peacock try to join him, but the Fox considers them imprudent and shakes them off. Instead, he chooses wiser animals as his fellow pilgrims: the Ant, Tracking Dog, Ox, Hedgehog, Hare, Lamb, Monkey and (multi-coloured) Panther. The Fox explains that, if you keep company with the wise and holy, you will become wise and holy as well.

The Pilgrim Fox chooses his company: Egerton MS 1121, f. 36r

(4) Listen to good advice.

The Monkey decides to follow a sailor into the mast of a ship. The Raven warns against it, but the Monkey ignores the advice, falls down and hurts himself. He then sits on a king's throne, ignoring the warning of the Fox. Only when he is thrown off and bitten by dogs does he realise that he should listen to sound advice.

The Monkey ignores the advice of the Raven and the Fox: Egerton MS 1121, f. 48v

(5) Don’t put yourself above others.

A Cloud, newly born from the Earth, leaps high up into the air. Her mother, Earth, implores her to return. But the Cloud answers that she wants to raise herself above all the things in the natural world. The Earth then teaches her that those who exalt themselves will fall deep. Even the Sun, which raises itself high into the sky, goes down. It is better to be humble. As a reminder of this, Nature has placed the human heart and feet, that keep the entire body going, below the head. The Cloud is persuaded and lets herself fall back to Earth.  

The new-born Cloud leaps up from the Earth: Egerton MS 1121, f. 58v

(6) Use your powers wisely.

A fish with razor-sharp teeth tells the Swordfish that he would like to have a sword as well, in order to rob others. The Swordfish replies that it would be best if the other fish doesn’t have a sword or even teeth: corrupted hearts always take the opportunity to use the good things they have for evil purposes, turning their own luck into unhappiness.

The ‘Toothfish’ and the Swordfish: Egerton MS 1121, f. 67r

(7) Greed leads to more loss than gain.

Having devoured yet another prey, the gluttonous Crocodile lies sleeping with its jaws open. The bird ‘Scrofilus’ seizes its opportunity, crawls inside the Crocodile’s mouth, and mortally wounds him from the inside. The Crocodile wakes up and asks why the bird has injured him. Scrofilus explains that those who always desire more always lose more than they gain. Alexander the Great, who conquered the whole world, always wanted to possess more lands; he was never satisfied and became poor in heart as a result.

Scrofilus mortally wounds the sleeping Crocodile: Egerton MS 1121, f. 97v

(8) Wealth always comes with a price.

The Monkey wants to grow a long tail like that of the Fox. But he then meets the Elephant who has removed his tusks to avoid being used in battle; the Swallow whose stomach has been cut open for the precious ‘swallow stone’ (Chelidonius); the Beaver who has removed his testicles to escape hunters looking for his castoreum; and the Peacock whose shiny tail has been cut off. The Monkey realises that wealth always comes with suffering and forgets about the tail. 

The Monkey with the Fox and the tuskless Elephant: Egerton MS 1121, f. 102r

(9) Good things take time.

The Gourd is proud to have reached the same height as the 100-year-old Palm within only a few summer days. The plant thanks Nature for allowing him to grow so quickly. But the Palm hears the Gourd’s boast and replies that what grows quickly will also wither quickly. The Palm gives the example of the quick-growing fish ‘Effimer’ (Ephemeral) that only lives for one day, and the slow-growing elephant that lives for 300 years.

The Palm Tree and the Gourd: Egerton MS 1121, f. 121v

(10) Seek treasure inside yourself.

A Youth wants to get rich by visiting the ‘Golden Mountains’ in India. Upon reaching the emerald-covered mountains of pure gold, an Old Man warns him that all visitors are killed by griffins, fabulous creatures with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle. The Youth is downcast but the Old Man explains that he already carries the greatest treasure inside his own heart. If he listens to his heart — and not greed — he will only seek pure goodness and not gold. Because gold only leads to vice, the peaceful Brahmani (‘Bragmani’) dispose of their gold in deep lakes and Nature hides it from mankind deep inside the Earth. The Youth thanks the Old Man for helping him find true treasure and no longer desires material wealth.

The Old Man warns the Youth about griffins in the Golden Mountains: Egerton MS 1121, f. 114v

Follow your voice of reason, avoid bad company and tricksters, listen to good advice, stay humble, live a measured life, take time to grow, and look inside your own heart. That’s the path to Natural Wisdom.

 

Clarck Drieshen

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When John Donne famously remarked that ‘no man is an island’, he meant, in a literal sense, that no person is isolated. The word ‘isolate’ comes from the Latin insulatus ('insulated'), which came, in turn from insula ('island'). Insulatus became Italian isolato, which gave us the Modern English ‘isolate’. Many of us are currently feeling the pain of being islands, isolated from family or friends. But, throughout history, many cultures have construed isolation as having a symbolic power. This tradition was especially strong in the Christian West in the Middle Ages, when people chose to 'island' themselves to bring them closer to God.

Medieval Christian solitaries often sought to emulate Biblical examples. The Old Testament prophet Elijah was visited by an angel who told him to travel for forty days and forty nights to Mount Horeb. There he dwelt in a cave and heard the voice of God (1 Kings 19:7–10). Elijah’s retreat was emulated by later figures. For instance, John the Baptist retreated into the desert in fulfilment of a prophecy of Isaiah that he would be a ‘voice of one crying in the desert’. There he wore camel skins, fed on locusts and wild honey, and preached penance, before he baptised Christ in the River Jordan (Matthew 3:3–13). Christ also famously emulated Elijah’s forty days and forty nights when he was tempted in the wilderness by the Devil (Matthew 4:1–11).

A historiated initial 'D'(eus), showing John the Baptist clad in animal skins, in the Hours of Bonaparte Ghislieri (Bologna, c. 1500): Yates Thompson MS 29, f. 48r

In the 3rd  and 4th centuries, a group of people retreated into the Egyptian desert to pursue lives of isolation. E. A. Jones has noted that, when Christianity was adopted as the official religion of the Roman Empire under the Emperor Constantine (r. 306–337), it 'lost its dangerous, ‘edgy’ status as a countercultural movement', so that devout Christians could no longer seek martyrdom (Hermits and Anchorites in England, 1200–1550, Manchester University Press, 2019, p. 2). Consequently, they sought other forms of martyrdom in regimes of self-discipline and the denial of bodily desire. These figures saw themselves as spiritual athletes (many Christian writers of this period used the term askesis, which was originally used of athletes training for a contest), intent on difficult and arduous labour in the pursuit of spiritual perfection.

Perhaps the most famous of the Desert Fathers was St Anthony of Egypt (c. 251–356), who is often considered the ‘founder of monasticism’. He made his life in the wilderness, where he was soon joined by followers with whom he formed an early monastic community. Like many hermits, he is said to have undergone demonic torments, including being tempted by devils in the shape of beautiful women and wild beasts. He is the patron saint of animals, skin diseases, farmers, butchers, basket-makers, brush-makers and gravediggers.

St Anthony in the desert, in the Hours of Charles le Clerc (Netherlands, 15th century): Add MS 19416, f. 126v

Alongside these Desert Fathers, there were also Desert Mothers. Perhaps one of the most engaging stories is that of St Mary of Egypt. Mary lived in the city of Alexandria, where she led a dissolute life for 17 years, ‘lying in the fire of promiscuity’ as the Old English version of her Life puts it. One day, she saw a large crowd of people hurrying to the sea to board a boat. They told her they were going to Jerusalem to venerate the Cross and she decided to join them, but not necessarily for religious reasons. In the Old English translation of her Life in Cotton MS Julius E VII, Mary describes how, ‘I saw ten young men standing together by the shore, good-looking enough in body and in demeanour … for the pleasure of my body’ (translated by Hugh Magennis, The Old English Life of Saint Mary of Egypt, University of Exeter Press, 2002, pp. 85–87). Mary travelled with them, but in Jerusalem she experienced a religious conversion. Thereafter she retreated into the desert, where she lived for 47 years, subsisting on desert plants and wearing only ‘the garment of the word of God’, when the scraps of her clothes had withered away. You can read more about her in our blogpost Hairy Mary.

St Zosimas hands his cloak to St Mary of Egypt, from the Dunois Hours (Paris, c. 1439–c. 1450): Yates Thompson MS 3, f. 287r

In early medieval England, a number of figures sought to emulate the Desert Fathers and Mothers. St Guthlac was a 7th-century Mercian who, after a life as a soldier, retreated to the East Anglian fens (presumably the closest approximation of a desert that rainy England could offer). There he lived in a disused barrow on an island, and dispensed spiritual counsel to those who visited him. The 8th-century Life of Guthlac by a monk named Felix described how he fasted often, eating only barley bread. He had terrifying visions of devils, which some modern scholars think may have been the result of ergot poisoning. (Ergot is a fungus which can grow on barley and produces a compound similar to lysergic acid or LSD.) Guthlac’s life is clearly modelled, to some degree, on that of St Anthony. The modern medical explanation for Guthlac’s torments is ironic, because St Anthony’s intercession was often invoked by sufferers of ergotism.

St Guthlac being tormented by devils, in the Guthlac Roll (England, late 12th or early 13h century): Harley Roll Y 6

Each of these figures lived in isolated places away from human society. In England a form of eremitical life emerged around the late 11th century called anchoritism, which allowed people to live as recluses but within the fold of society. Anchorites or anchoresses (the female form) would permanently enclose themselves in cells attached to a church in order to live a life of prayer and contemplation. The word comes from the Greek ἀναχωρεῖν (‘anachorein’) meaning ‘to retire or retreat’. In their cells they lived a life of extraordinary restriction. They had a small window which looked onto the church, another which led onto a servant’s parlour (through which they could receive food and get rid of waste) and a third window on the church yard or street, from which they could dispense spiritual counsel. They were otherwise confined to a single room for what could be decades. You can read more about the lives of anchoresses on the Discovering Literature: Medieval website.

Miniature of an anchoress being enclosed, in a pontifical (England, 15th century): Lansdowne MS 451, f. 76v

Perhaps the most famous English anchoress was Julian of Norwich, who wrote the first work in English authored by a woman. During a period of illness in 1373, at the age of 30, Julian experienced visions of Christ. She recovered and composed a short account of her experiences. This account may have been submitted to ecclesiastical authorities when she applied for the right to become an anchoress. Her application was successful and she lived in a cell at St Julian’s Church in Conesford, in Norwich, for at least 20 years. During this time, she meditated on the meaning of her visions, producing a longer version of her initial account (which survives only in post-Reformation copies). This second version of the text represents Julian’s transition from mystic to sophisticated theologian. It is an elegant piece of rhetorical writing, in lyrical prose, which contains some unforgettable imagery. Given the privation of her life — a life of permanent enclosure — Julian’s work is strikingly, almost radically, hopeful.

The short version of Julian of Norwich's Revelations of Divine Love (England, 15th century): Add MS 37790, f. 97r

Julian never makes reference to the realities of her way of life. At one point she writes that ‘this place is pryson, and this lyfe is pennannce’, but she was likely referring to her life on Earth, rather than the confines of her cell. Her work is instead suffused with optimism. Julian’s most famous line, 'all shall be well and all shall be well and all manner of things shall be well', delivers a hopeful message of love as the guiding force of the universe.

Julian of Norwich’s Long Text of Revelations of Divine Love (France, c. 1675): Stowe MS 42, f. 33r

In this time of isolation, the lives of medieval hermits may seem stranger to us, as we realise the true toll that isolation takes. But this strangeness perhaps also gives us a new appreciation of these figures, battling demons in mountain caves or fenland barrows or ‘islanded’ in small, dark cells. Julian’s hope in the darkness is a message that speaks to us across the centuries.

 

@marywellesley

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