Birds part I

If you look carefully you’ll begin to notice birds in all sorts of medieval manuscripts, used as anything from decorative flourishes to representations of the divine.  In this series of posts I’ll explore a variety of bird imagery, beginning today with ornamental figures and moving on to birds as symbols of power.  In the next post, birds of morality, philosophy, and religion.  (As usual, click the images to go directly to the sources.)

Our first examples come from Huntington Library HM 65, a copy of Ptolemy’s Almagest made in southern France in 1279.  This is an astronomical text, so the birds and other animals in the margins are purely decorative.  Like acanthus leaves and running hares, these birds are a familiar visual trope of the period.  Out of all the medieval birds they’re probably my favorites.

Sometimes birds illuminations aren’t just decorative but refer to the text.  Harvard University’s Houghton Library MS Typ 0446 is a 13th-century Latin Bible.  On one page we see a decorative bird perched on an illuminated initial, but in Exodus a stork appears with a frog in its beak—a reference to the plague of frogs.

Birds also grace the bindings of books.  These clasps date from 14th-century Germany.  Columbia University X242.1.S.

Bird in a blind stamped binding, bound between 1510 and 1519 by a Dutch binder named John Reynes who was active in London.  Huntington Library HM 36336.

The margins of manuscripts were a kind of no-man’s land where artists could explore subversive fears and fantasies.  The creepier aspects of birds are apparent in these grotesques from the pages of a 16th-century Dominican gradual.  University of Texas at Austin, Harry Ransom Humanities Research Center HRC 013.

But manuscript birds were just as likely to have a humorous character.  The Macclesfield Psalter, for instance, depicts a man riding a ‘hobby duck’.

A charming bird sneaks a bite from a penwork initial, from the University of Notre Dame, Hesburgh Library MS 12.  You are what you eat, after all.

Birds were also common as heraldic devices and symbols of authority.  This lovely 13th-century wax seal featuring a bird on a branch is affixed to a “Quit claim by Gwenllian, widow of Madoc ap Seycil to the monks of Abbey Dore of her widow’s third of the 4 1/2 bovates of land on Grosmont hill which Madoc gave to them for his burial for her soul and the soul of Madoc.”  Lawrence, University of Kanses, Kenneth Spencer Research Library MS 191:13.

The Luttrell Psalter is famous for its idealized depiction of English manor life.  Here a peasant feed chickens and a man uses a slingshot to drive crows from the newly tilled fields.  In this case the birds are a significant part of the manuscript’s meta-narrative: depicting its patron Geoffrey Luttrell as a benevolent and pious lord presiding over a bountiful estate.

Another way that birds embodied power and status was via falconry scenes — depictions of the nobility engaging in one of their favorite pastimes.  You could argue that owning a falcon was the medieval equivalent of driving a super car or owning a yacht, and wealthy book patrons would have enjoyed seeing this high status activity reflected in the pages of the luxury texts they commissioned.   Below is the illumination for the month of May from the Fecamp Psalter, created in France circa 1180.

Ptolemy with a falcon, from Der Naturen Bloeme, a 14th-century Flemish bestiary, KB KA 16.

Two examples of falconry from British Library Yates Thompson 13, a 14th-century English book of hours: the first is part of a calander page for the month of May.

Who’s Afraid of Christine de Pizan?

If it were customary to send daughters to school like sons, and if they were then taught the natural sciences, they would learn as thoroughly and understand the subtleties of all the arts and sciences as well as sons.     – Christine de Pizan, The Book of the City of Ladies, 1404

Sometimes described as an early feminist and also as Europe’s first professional female writer, Christine de Pizan was born in Venice in 1365, the daughter of a highly respected court physician and astrologer who shortly thereafter relocated his family to the French court of Charles V.

The young Christine received an excellent education, becoming literate in French, Italian and possibly Latin, and at fifteen married a royal secretary.  The family prospered until the death of their patron Charles V in 1380, and disaster struck in 1390 with the deaths of both her father and husband.  Widowed, with three children and elderly female relatives to provide for, Christine eschewed her obvious options—remarriage or life in a convent—and took up the pen.  She began by writing courtly love poetry, the positive reception of which earned her noble patrons and allowed her to move on to a variety of literature, including autobiographical works and a life of Charles V.

In 1399 de Pizan initiated the Querelle,  “the most celebrated literary debate of the Middle Ages,” when she attacked the second half of the widely popular allegorical poem Le Roman de la Rose (The Romance of the Rose).  Christine objected to the work’s misogynistic themes, primarily its portrayal of women as immoral seductresses.  Following this controversy she composed her own allegory, The Book of the City of Ladies, a dialogue that examined the strengths and moral qualities of women and strongly rejected the male-dominated intellectual discourse of the age.  She followed it with The Treasure of the City of Ladies, a book of practical and empowering advice directed at women of all social stations.

Christine continued to write prolifically, adding historical and military subjects to her repertoire, until she retired to a convent in 1418.  This was where she completed her final book, a celebration of Joan of Arc.  The date of her death is unknown, but was probably around 1429.

— Sarah Lawson’s introduction to the Penguin Classics edition of The Treasure of the City of Ladies is available in its entirety via Google Books.  Definitely check out her discussion of the reception of de Pizan’s works over the ensuing centuries.

— The page above is from the largest of de Pizan’s extant manuscripts, a lavish presentation copy compiling 30 individual works that was commissioned by Queen Isabeau de Bavière of France in 1413.  It is currently held by the British Library (BL Harley MS 4431) and is partially available in a digital gallery here.  (Watch out, though.  The gallery view works well, but the link to “digital images and transcriptions” keeps crashing Firefox for me.)

Dante

I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to get to Dante, but I finally read the Inferno this weekend.  I guess it never seemed like something I could get into, not being very religious, but I ended up loving it.  I found a copy in the library with really good commentary, and at some point in the near future I hope to find the last two volumes by the same translators.  In the meantime, some really good Dante links.

MS Holkham misc. 48 is a late 14th century illuminated manuscript of the Inferno at the Bodleian Library.

— One my favorite sites is Renaissance Dante in Print: 1472-1629.  This online exhibit from Notre Dame exhaustively covers the early printing history of the Divine Comedy, with image links at the bottom of each page.  I particularly liked the section on Dantean cosmography, which compiles the different graphical representations of Dante’s Hell.

— The National Gallery of Victoria displays 36 of William Blake’s watercolor illustrations for the Divine Comedy, created during the last years of his life, between 1824 and 1827. The images are small, but clear.

— The William Blake Archive, UNC Chapel Hill, has an even larger digital collection, including 102 images for the Divine Comedy.  The only problems are that the image viewer is a bit buggy, at least in Firefox, and when you enlarge an image it blurs and the sides get cut off.

Digital Dante, from Columbia University, includes a collection of small images by Gustave Doré, Sandro Botticelli and Salvador Dali.

The World of Dante, created by the University of Virginia, is a great resource and has a lovely gallery that includes images from Yates Thompson 36, a strikingly beautiful 15th century illuminated manuscript held by the British Library.  The gallery also displays Dantean art by Botticelli, Doré, Alessandro Vellutello and John Flaxman.

  • Carnal Sinners – Yates Thompson 36, British Library.