Last year we advertised the opportunity for an Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) Collaborative Doctoral Partnership on the theme of ‘Understanding the Anglo-Saxons: the English and Continental Manuscript Evidence’. We welcomed Becky Lawton to the Ancient, Medieval and Early Modern Manuscripts section, who was chosen as the award-holder, working under the supervision of Dr Claire Breay, Head of the section at the British Library, and Joanna Story, Professor of Early Medieval History at the University of Leicester. You may have seen some of Becky’s popular blog posts, including The Great Medieval Bake Off and The Ceolfrith Leaves Are 1300 Years Old.   

The Eadui Psalter, SE England (Christ Church, Canterbury, 1st half of the 11th century), digitised thanks to a generous grant from The Polonsky Foundation: Arundel MS 155, f. 93r.

This year we are delighted to announce another studentship on the theme of England and France: Manuscripts 700-1200, to be co-supervised by Dr Kathleen Doyle, Lead Curator, Illuminated Manuscripts. This doctoral research project would focus on an aspect of pre-1200 manuscript culture, using manuscripts from the collections of the Library and of the Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF). The research will be facilitated through the work of a related collaborative project with the BnF, England and France: Illuminated Manuscripts 700-1200, which will digitise in full 400 manuscripts from each institution, which we announced on 12 October. This project is funded externally by The Polonsky Foundation.

The AHRC Collaborative Doctoral Partnerships scheme has been running for four years and the British Library is now advertising a call for partnership, for a fifth round of awards to begin in October 2017. Researchers of postdoctoral standing at UK universities are invited to submit proposals to serve as the academic supervisor of this studentship. Full details of our research theme for this partnership, and some suggested areas of study and research questions, can be found here.

The concurrent Polonsky-funded England and France project will provide digital coverage of 800 pre-1200 manuscripts, many of which may form part of the student’s research corpus. The student will benefit from the expertise of the curatorial team that will be cataloguing and interpreting these manuscripts for a general and academic audience. The student will have access to these detailed descriptions as well as internal databases, and as a result will be able to focus on (and create) particular areas of interest using the resources already provided. Both the British Library and the BnF have extensive cultural engagement programmes and the PhD student will have opportunities to contribute to this activity. The project also brings opportunities to engage actively with the interpretative website that will be developed for the Polonsky-funded England and France project, including contributing to online articles and blogposts on the relevant manuscripts.

The Eadui Psalter, SE England (Christ Church, Canterbury, 1st half of the 11th century), digitised thanks to a generous grant from The Polonsky Foundation: Arundel MS 155, f. 53r.

The selected university partner will receive an AHRC training grant to cover the student’s fees and stipend, including a Research Training Support Grant and Student Development Funding (standard RCUK eligibility criteria apply). The Library will provide the students with staff-level access to its collections, expertise and facilities, as well as financial support for research-related costs of up to £1,000 a year. The student will also benefit from the dedicated programme of professional development events delivered by the Library in tandem with the other museums, galleries and heritage organisations affiliated to the CDP scheme.

So, if you are based in a UK Higher Education Institution and would like to co-supervise an AHRC-funded doctoral student on this research theme, or one of the other three themes selected for next year, apply by 25 November 2016. For any queries about how to apply or to find out more about the Library CDP programme, please email [email protected].

Kathleen Doyle

Lead Curator, Illuminated Manuscripts

@BLMedieval

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 November from the Bedford Hours, France (Paris), c. 1410–1430, Add MS 18850, f. 11r

Winter is beginning to close in on the calendar pages for November from the Bedford Hours. 

Detail of miniatures of a man feeding pigs and the zodiac sign Sagittarius, from the calendar page for November, Add MS 18850, f. 11r

November saw a pause in the agricultural calendar of the medieval era, and so in this month we often see different sorts of labours.  A common one can be found at the bottom of the first folio for this month; in the miniature on the lower left a man is at work beating acorns from a tree with two sticks. Below him a group of three hogs are feasting on the acorns, a delicacy given to them at this time to fatten them up for winter. To the right is a centaur archer, charmingly dressed in a gorgeous surcoat, for the zodiac sign Sagittarius.

Detail of a marginal roundel of the Nine Muses, from the calendar page for November, Add MS 18850, f. 11r

On the middle right of the folio is a miniature of a group of nine women surrounding a stream and pool of water. The banners they carry identify them as the Nine Muses, the Greek goddesses of inspiration for science and the arts that were later adopted into the Greek pantheon. In some versions of their myths they are described as water nymphs, and in one origin story they were born from four sacred rivers which Pegasus caused to spring forth — a possible explanation for the landscape of this miniature. Rubrics at the bottom of the folio tell us that November ‘is attributed to the nine wisdoms’ because of the number nine.

Calendar page for November, Add MS 18850, f. 11v

The emphasis on the Muses continues in the following folio. On the middle left an armoured man is mounted on a winged horse that has one foot (somewhat gingerly) in the waters of a fountain or pool. The rubrics tell us that this man is Perseus, and the horse must therefore be Pegasus; we may be seeing a scene of the birth of the Muses. At the bottom of the folio the Muses themselves are in evidence beside their spring, kneeling before a well-dressed lady. This is intended to represent Athena on her visit to ‘the font of wisdom’, although this aristocratic and almost matronly version of the goddess is an unusual one.  

Detail of marginal roundels of Perseus and Pegasus and Athena and the Muses, from the calendar page for November, Add MS 18850, f. 11v

Sarah J Biggs

@BLMedieval

Whether you love it or loathe it, there's no way of avoiding that today is Halloween! Loyal readers of our Blog will have doubtless consulted our informative guide for the perfect costume inspired by illustrations in medieval manuscripts. However, those who favour a more traditional approach may have chosen from popular costumes such as a witch, vampire, ghost or devil. Among these, it is the modern image of the devil which is perhaps most indebted to medieval society. 

Depiction of Mambres with book contemplating Hell’s torments: from a scientific miscellany, England, mid-11th century, Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1,  f. 87v

In the Middle Ages, Jews, Muslims and Christians all acknowledged the existence of the Devil in some form. The Devil was commonly depicted as a beastly figure representing sin, temptation and the embodiment of evil. In western European medieval manuscripts, the Devil was often attributed serpent-like features, such as pointed horns or ears and a long thin tail. These characteristics likely have their roots in the story of the fall of man in the Book of Genesis, and Eve's temptation by a serpent.

Detail of a miniature of Adam and Eve in Paradise from a map of the world: from the Silos Apocalypse, Northern Spain (Santo Domingo de Silos), 1091–1109, Additional MS 11695, f. 40r

When the Devil appears in the New Testament, it is also in the guise of temptation. After his baptism, Christ fasted in the Judaean Desert for 40 days and 40 nights, during which he was tempted by the Devil. Christ managed to refuse each temptation and the Devil was thwarted. This scene is often depicted in illustrated Psalters, such as this 13th-century manuscript. This Devil’s horned head, spiked tail and cloven feet all bear sharp resemblance to features which we associate with devils today. 

Detail of a miniature of the First Temptation of Christ: from a Psalter, England (Oxford), c. 1200–1225, Arundel MS 157, f. 5v

In medieval manuscripts, the Devil was often accompanied by an entourage of demons who shared a similar appearance to their master. It is possible to see smaller demons following the Devil in the image below, who is being chased away by a monk. The Devil and his demons represent the sin and temptation which the monks were seeking to avoid. Hopefully this aggressive method of resistance was a success for the monk!

 

Detail of a bas de page scene: from the Smithfield Decretals, Southern France (Toulouse), c. 1300–1340, Royal 10 E IV, f. 247r

Although these devils share the horned and cloven footed appearance of the Devil in the illustration of the temptation of Christ, they also have marked differences. These devils are clearly brown instead of red, and they lack the fearsome wings and tail of the red devil. The image below depicts another example of this slightly cheeky and light-hearted Devil, who is giving orders to his minions.  

Detail of the prince of devils sending out two devils: from a copy of Matfre Ermengaud's Breviari d'Amor, Southern France (Toulouse), early 14th century, Royal MS 19 C I, f. 33r

In the first part of Dante’s The Divine Comedy, Dante and Vergil arrive at the Gates of Hell and are greeted by the Devil. In illustrated manuscripts of the text, this Devil is portrayed in more serious fashion than the previous examples. The spiked wings, horns, tail and staff gave the Devil an extremely evil appearance, and prophesised the horrors which awaited Dante and Vergil as they descended further into Hell.

Detail of bas-de-page scene of Dante and Virgil entering the Gates of Hell (left); the lukewarm, stung by insects, holding a banner and Dante and Virgil (centre) addressed by Charon, portrayed as a winged Devil (above right); souls going up a gangplank and Dante lying in a faint, (right) from Canto 3 of the Inferno: Add MS 19587, f. 4r

Bas-de-page scene of Dante and Virgil observing Satan swallowing his victims, with figures of those who betrayed their benefactors, such as Brutus and Judas Iscariot, frozen in ice below, from Canto 34 of the Inferno: Add MS 19587, f. 58r

Just as the devil was depicted in different ways in medieval manuscripts, so too was the entrance to Hell. Equally popular as the Gates of Hell found in Dante’s Divine Comedy was the Hell-mouth. Hell was often shown as a bottomless pit into which sinners were swallowed up through a great jaw. Although classical mythology contains tales of heroes falling into the jaws of monsters and failing to emerge, the significance of this trope in the medieval period lies in Scripture.

Detail of a bas-de-page scene showing the casting of souls into Hell: from the ‘Taymouth Hours’, Yates Thompson MS 13, f. 142r

The Hell-mouth represented the fusion of four main images: Hell as an open pit which swallowed sinners; Satan represented as a lion seeking souls to devour; Satan depicted as a dragon spouting flames; and Leviathan, the great sea beast from the Old Testament. To read and see more about depictions of the Hell-mouth, see our previous blogpost delightfully entitled, Prepare to Meet Your Doom.

Full page miniature of an angel holding the key of the bottomless pit, and a chain attached to the neck of a Devil in a Hell-mouth (Revelation 20:1-3): from a copy of Apocalypse in German, Germany (Thuringia, possibly Erfurt), c. 1350–1370, Add MS 15243, f. 34r

The Medieval Manuscripts team wishes everyone a Happy Halloween. Hopefully,  these images of terrifying (and sometimes cheeky) devils will inspire everyone to keep their frivolities safe and free of sin, lest you be swallowed up by a beastly Hell-mouth and condemned to an eternity of torments!

St Peter fends off a devil: from the New Minster Liber Vitae, England (Winchester), c. 1031, Stowe MS 944, f. 7r

 Rebecca Lawton

@BLMedieval/@bbeckyL

We are delighted to announce that the Lindisfarne Gospels is now back on display in the Sir John Ritblat Treasures Gallery.

Decorated letters and words at the beginning of Jerome’s preface to the Gospels (Cotton MS Nero D IV, f. 3r)

Created around 700 on the island of Lindisfarne, the Lindisfarne Gospels is thought to be the work of a single artist and scribe, perhaps a monk called Eadfrith, who was bishop of Lindisfarne from 698 until his death in 722. In addition to the original Latin, the Lindisfarne Gospels includes the earliest known translation of the Bible in English. The Old English translation was added to the manuscript by a monk named Aldred, provost of the monastic community at Chester-le-Street, near Durham, in the 10th century. Aldred wrote the Old English version in small letters above each word of the original Latin.

On display now is part of a series of prefaces to the Gospels, featuring a letter written by Eusebius of Caesaria (d. 339) explaining the organisational tables he devised for the Gospels. These are known as the ‘Eusebian Canons’, which function as a system of cross-reference within the Gospels, and predate the division of the Bible into chapters. Each of the ten canons lists episodes, identified by section numbers, held in common by all four Gospels, or any combination of three, two and only one. In the Lindisfarne Gospels the word ‘Eusebius’ is highly stylised, with intertwined bird heads, and a crouching dog-like animal in the centre of the ‘E’.

Initial ‘E’ for ‘Eusebius’ (Cotton MS Nero D IV, f. 8r)

Prefatory material — explanations of specific translations, letters between theologians, or commentaries by Biblical scholars discussing religious theories, among others — is found in many medieval Bibles. For example, the Lindisfarne Gospels also includes a letter of St Jerome (c. 347–420) to Pope Damasus I (c. 305–384) describing his new translation of the Bible into Latin, which the pope had requested (see the image above). Jerome’s translation, known as the Vulgate, became the standard Latin version of the Bible and is still in use today as the Catholic Church’s official Latin Bible. Jerome’s letter to Damasus, titled the Novum opus (New Work), is a justification and explanation of his work, and can be found at the very beginning of the Lindisfarne Gospels.

The Lindisfarne Gospels is fully digitised on the British Library’s Digitised Manuscripts site, and you can read more about various aspects of the Lindisfarne Gospels in our other blogposts here and here. For conservation reasons, we change the pages on display on a regular basis; so be sure to check back in three months’ time to read about the new pages of the Lindisfarne Gospels on view.

The Sir John Ritblat Treasures Gallery is free to enter and open to all members of the public. It is open seven days a week. More information, including current opening hours, can be found here.

Taylor McCall

@BLMedieval/@taylorjmccall

To commemorate Black History Month in the United Kingdom, today we remember one of the Africans to live in Anglo-Saxon England. The man in question was Hadrian (d. 709), the abbot of St Peter’s and St Paul’s at Canterbury, who played a pivotal role in the development of church structures in what is now England.

Bede’s description of Hadrian, beginning column 2 line 18, from his Ecclesiastical History of the English People, England (Canterbury?), c. 825: Cotton MS Tiberius C II, f. 94r.

According to Bede's Ecclesiastical History of the English People (completed in 731), Hadrian was ‘vir natione Afir’ (translated as 'a man of African race' by Bertram Colgrave and R.A.B. Mynors), who spoke both Greek and Latin. Some scholars have suggested that Hadrian was Amazigh, and that he came from the area that is now Libya. There are a series of Biblical commentaries (surviving in a manuscript in Milan) that were derived from notes on Hadrian’s teaching at his school at Canterbury, and these include references and vocabulary that were specific to north Africa. For example, there are notes on a beautiful bird called a porphyrio, 'said to be found in Libya' ('in Libia sit'). 

Detail of North Africa, from a world map in a scientific collection, England, mid-11th century: Cotton MS Tiberius B V/1, f. 56v.

Hadrian may have been forced to flee the Arab invasions of North Africa. At any rate he arrived in Italy as young man. In Europe, he had a remarkable career as the emperor’s translator, diplomat and abbot of a monastery near Naples. He was then sent by Pope Vitalian to accompany Theodore of Tarsus, the newly-appointed archbishop of Canterbury, to Kent. They arrived in 668. The two men immediately set about touring the archdiocese, restructuring the Church in what is now England by dividing large dioceses into smaller ones, and legislating through regular synods. They also created an internationally renowned school at Canterbury where they may have introduced the study of Greek to Anglo-Saxons.

Among the students of that school was Aldhelm, later bishop of Sherborne, who was considered a pre-eminent scholar by many of his contemporaries. Aldhelm praised the school in his letters, including one to Hadrian himself, in which he described Hadrian as his 'revered father and respected teacher' and himself as a 'humble pupil of your holiness'. In another letter, Aldhelm scolded his young correspondent for going to study in Ireland when Hadrian and Theodore offered better educational opportunities in Kent. Manuscripts of Aldhelm’s letters have recently been digitised by the British Library and are now available online (Royal MS 6 A VI and Cotton MS Domitian A IX).

 
Passage from Aldhelm's letter to Heahfrith where he praises Hadrian as 'endowed with ineffably pure urbanity', the moon to Archbishop Theodore's sun, England (Canterbury?), 1st half of the 11th century: Royal MS 6 A VI, f. 8v.

Judging from commentaries from his school and his students' writings, Hadrian can be credited with introducing Anglo-Saxons to a whole range of ideas, from astronomical thought inherited from Plato and Aristotle to the commemoration of Neapolitan saints venerated at his old monastery in Italy. He may even have influenced Anglo-Saxon literature through types of riddles: Aldhelm also wrote a book of riddles explicitly inspired by the North African writer Symphosius, whose enigmas may have been brought by Hadrian to England.

Aldhelm's prologue invoking Symphosius, from Aldhelm's Riddles, England (Canterbury?), c. 1000: Royal MS 12 C XXIII, f. 79v.

One of the earliest books known to have been owned in post-Roman Britain also came from Africa, perhaps from Carthage. This book contains a 4th-century copy of letters by another North African, Cyprian. Although this manuscript is now fragmentary, it was once an impressive codex, in fine uncial script and with the Biblical passages picked out in red. This book had come to England by the 8th century, because someone writing in early English script annotated, expanded and added to some of the words. These letters undoubtedly influenced 8th-century Anglo-Saxon writers, including Bede, who quoted from them. Some scholars have suggested that Hadrian himself may have brought this African manuscript to the British Isles.

Detail of one of the earliest books known to have been owned in Anglo-Saxon England, containing the letters of Cyprian, North Africa, 4th century: Add MS 40165 A, f. 2r.

Details of the letters ‘vr’ added to the manuscript in England by the 8th century: Add MS 40165 A, f. 2v.

According to Bede, Hadrian had been reluctant to come to Kent, so much so that he turned down an offer to be made archbishop of Canterbury and instead nominated several others for that office, including his eventual companion, Theodore. Nevertheless, Hadrian stayed in England for 41 years, and his influence has lasted much longer. He was remembered in saints' Lives at Canterbury later in the Middle Ages, and he helped to shape religious structures and literary traditions which remain in England today.

Beginning of Goscelin's Life of Hadrian, England (Canterbury), 1st quarter of the 12th century: Cotton MS Vespasian B XX, f. 233r.

Alison Hudson

@BLMedieval

Until 5 February 2017, the Victoria and Albert Museum in London is providing a unique opportunity to view some of the most incredible survivals of pre-modern art in Opus Anglicanum: Masterpieces of English Medieval Embroidery. If you have even a remote interest in the medieval world, textiles, handicrafts or the rituals of society, you won't be disappointed.

The exhibition includes six manuscripts loaned by the British Library, and also available to view on our Digitised Manuscripts site. The curators have brilliantly displayed these alongside works of embroidery to show how they influenced one another in terms of iconography, historical context, and production techniques.

An angel with John Grandisson’s arms: Add MS 21926, f. 2r

Among the manuscripts on display is the ‘Grandisson Psalter’, Add MS 21926, owned by John Grandisson. Next to the book, showing the image of an angel added to the front of the book displaying John's coat of arms, are other objects that he owned and commissioned. The exhibition shows how artwork did not simply sit to be admired, but was a part of a process that allowed members of society to communicate with one another and promote coherence as a community.

The interplay between the artistic styles of manuscripts and embroidery between the 12th and 15th centuries is among the most eye-opening aspects of the exhibition. This gives the opportunity to compare at first hand disparate treasures such as the Syon Cope, highlighted online, with the 'Holkham Bible Picture Book', Add MS 47682:

Christ creating Adam and Eve: Add MS 47682, f. 3r

Other British Library manuscripts in the exhibition are 'Sir Thomas Holme's Book of Arms', Harley MS 4205; the 'De Lisle Psalter' in Arundel MS 83; the 13th-century Psalter of Harley MS 5102; and a sketch of John the Baptist in Royal MS 10 B XIV.

Manuscripts were not created in a vacuum, and this is a rare opportunity to compare them not only with needlework but also with panel paintings, metalwork and sculpture. There has not been a major exhibit on its subject since 1963. If you can't make it to London before February, Clare Browne, Glyn Davies and M. A. Michael have produced the book English Medieval Embroidery: Opus Anglicanum, beautifully illustrated and thoroughly researched.

Andrew Dunning

@BLMedieval/@anjdunning

2016 has been a year of anniversaries, some of them more notable than others. Already this year we have commemorated 350 years since the Great Fire of London (1666), the 950th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings (1066), and 1,000 years since the Battle of Assandun (1016). The 285th year since the infamous Cotton Library fire (1731) falls on 23 October, and although this may not be a date that immediately leaps to mind, it is a cause of great sorrow for many medievalists.

A portrait of Sir Robert Cotton, commissioned in 1626 and attributed to Cornelius Johnson

Sir Robert Cotton (1571–1631) was one of the greatest British collectors of manuscripts of all time. His library was vast and of huge national significance, especially when one recounts some of the books and documents it contained: two of the original manuscripts of Magna Carta, the Lindisfarne Gospels, Beowulf, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the Cotton Genesis, the state papers of Henry VIII and Elizabeth I, the Vespasian Psalter ... one could easily go on. Cotton made his library available to other scholars during his own lifetime, and enabled certain books to be borrowed (which is why some items, such as the famous Utrecht Psalter, ultimately entered other collections). Finally, 70 years after Cotton died, his manuscripts were accepted on behalf of the nation, and in 1753 they formed the first foundation collection of the new British Museum.

 
The fire-damaged manuscript of King John's Magna Carta, 1215, rendered almost illegible following the 1731 Cotton fire: Cotton Charter XIII 31A.

Acquiring the Cotton collection for the nation should be regarded as a moment of great rejoicing. This was the first occasion in the British Isles that any library had passed into national ownership, bringing with it such treasures as Magna Carta and the largest collection of Anglo-Saxon manuscripts assembled by any antiquary. But, sadly, a less joyful event happened in 1731, that threatened to destroy this gift for all time.

The beautiful Vespasian Psalter, 8th century, one of the many treasures of the Cotton Library: Cotton MS Vespasian A I, f. 30v.

By October 1731, the Cotton manuscripts had been placed for storage at Ashburnham House in London, adjacent to Westminster School. Their former home had been regarded, ironically, as a fire hazard; and so the books had been transferred to the ill-fated (and unfortunately named) Ashburnham House. There, on the night of 23 October 1731, a terrible fire broke out, perhaps starting in a fireplace below the floor where the manuscripts were kept. Despite the efforts of the Deputy Librarian and others, who reportedly were forced to fling scores of books out of the building, a great number of the Cotton manuscripts were badly damaged by the flames and the water used to extinguish them, and a few volumes were destroyed in their entirety. Many unique manuscripts were lost for good, such as Asser's biography of King Alfred of Wessex. The following day, the Westminster schoolboys were said to have gathered fragments of manuscripts floating like butterflies in the wind, some of which have survived until this day (some leaves of the Cotton Genesis, for instance, passed into a collection at Bristol, before being returned to the British Museum in the 1960s).

Boxes containing portions of the manuscripts almost destroyed in the 1731 fire, now classified as Cotton Fragments XXXII.

During the 19th century, a restoration programme was carried out at the British Museum, during which many of the burnt volumes were separated, their pages flattened, inlaid in paper mounts and then rebound. There is a masterful study of this process by Andrew Prescott, in Sir Robert Cotton as Collector, edited by Christopher Wright (The British Library, 1997). Meantime, however, many of Cotton's precious manuscripts had suffered irreversible fortunes. One of the two surviving copies of King John's Magna Carta, 1215, and the only one with the Great Seal still affixed, was rendered illegible as a result of the fire and efforts to save the text, and the seal was reduced to a glob of molten wax. The illustrated Cotton Genesis, already mentioned, suffered severe damage to its illuminations. The pages of Beowulf were burned along their edges, with the result that small portions of the letters reputedly started to crumble, before the volume was inlaid and rebound.

An example of an inlaid Cotton manuscript, following the restoration process: Cotton MS Tiberius E VI.

All of this is extremely tragic, and the story is too detailed and complicated to tell in a single blogpost. Fortunately, the vast majority of the Cotton manuscripts survived the fire, many of them intact: the fate of others is described in an earlier account entitled Crisp as a Poppadom. But today, on 23 October, we should spare a moment to remember the beautiful and historic manuscripts damaged in the Cotton fire, the people who fought valiantly to rescue them, and those who restored them in the 19th century.

Julian Harrison

@BLMedieval/@julianpharrison

 

The stories we can tell about manuscripts are not only limited to the texts and images found within them. For as long as books have existed, readers and owners have written notes in them. Sometimes these are notes attempting to explain something difficult in the text, or offering alternative opinions, while at other times they are hastily-written memos of historical events, or simple signatures by later owners. A number of the articles on the new Greek Manuscripts Project Website give us insights into these marginal comments.

Perhaps the most famous example of an annotated Greek manuscript at the British Library is Codex Sinaiticus. Written in the 4th century, it was extensively corrected and annotated over the centuries. Many of the corrections were made by one of the original scribes, editing the work of the others, while other annotations date from later generations. These corrections are incredibly important for telling us about the early history of the Biblical text, which you can read more about in David Parker’s article on ancient Bibles. And for much more information about Codex Sinaiticus, you can consult the Codex Sinaiticus Website.

John 21:1-21:25. Codex Sinaiticus (Add MS 43725, f 260r), Eastern Mediterranean (?Palestine), mid-4th century.

During the Byzantine era, many scholars and intellectuals engaged in studying and copying Greek texts from antiquity. On occasion, they would reveal their frustration with their ancient predecessors. A famous example can be found in Harley 5694, the earliest known manuscript of Lucian of Samosata (c. 120–180 CE). In this early 10th-century manuscript, the original owner Arethas of Caesarea attacked Lucian for having taken part in an idolatrous rite. You can read what Arethas said, and much more about the scholars of Byzantium, in Georgi Parpulov’s article on the Greek Manuscripts Project Website. And for more information on the transmission of classical texts, consult Mark Joyal’s article on that topic. 

Arethas’ attack on Lucian, in Harley 5694, f. 60v. Eastern Mediterranean (Caesarea?), c. 912–914.

Many of the 19th-century owners of Greek manuscripts were less reverential than one might expect. Robert Curzon, 14th Baron Zouche, whose manuscripts were bequeathed to the British Library, inserted notes at the beginning of the volumes he acquired recounting the circumstances in which he obtained them. These can on occasion be quite entertaining, as in Additional 39604, which, Curzon tells us, was used by him as a pillow when he slept by the river Jordan!

Curzon’s note, pasted into the cover of Additional 39604, a 12th-century Gospel Lectionary.

Perhaps the most radical of all the 19th-century annotators of Greek manuscripts was John Ruskin, who filled the pages of his own Gospel Lectionary with notes on the text of the Bible and on the script used in this particular volume, which he occasionally found frustrating. You can read more about the 19th-century collectors of Greek manuscripts in an article on British Collectors of Greek Manuscripts on the project website.

A characteristic comment by Ruskin on his Gospel Lectionary, Egerton 3046, f. 126r. Eastern Mediterranean, last quarter of the 11th century-1st quarter of the 12th century.

We conclude with a reminder that many of the annotations and comments in Greek manuscripts await further attention from readers and scholars. Please explore the riches available on the Greek Manuscripts Project Website and on Digitised Manuscripts, and let us know what you find!

Cillian O'Hogan

@BLMedieval/@cillianohogan