The author’s rights are asserted.
This will surely seem like a cop-out to some less than amiable readers, but I’ve now re-read the ‘Pegs, Poles and Parasols’ series posted to my first, Blogger, blog way back in 2011.
I had forgotten just to what extent that series was part of a single, continuous, preliminary survey of the manuscript and that for readers to make any sense of that section in isolation I should have to spend hours filling out all the allusions made in those posts to work earlier presented – and over a period of a couple of years. There’s also the problem that I began writing research summaries presuming readers would have a kind of background which, it soon emerged, most did not. And by speaking as if to people who had already a solid knowledge of certain period and regions, I was making little sense to those who did not.
So, for example, I see that in one post of that series, while discussing the form of the ‘peg’ which occupies the centre of the oddly chomped-looking canopy motif, I focused on tracing use of that motif over time and what it indicated about intended meaning and, incidentally, time and place of first enunciation. My comparisons come from historical images, and from archaeology, and contextualise by those means the use of unclothed figures and the significance intended for them, as well as the linguistic ‘key’ to that significance and implications in practical terms for understanding the drawings, particularly those on folio 75r on f.79v.
There’s also the complication created when the Beinecke decided that instead of expecting scholars to conform to its pagination, it would alter its pagination to suit that created by the first mailing list members and thus enshrined in voynich.nu. I cannot think of another great library which has been so accommodating, but it did mean that rather a mess was made of the work of scholars who had used the Beinecke’s pagination. It also means that to reprint my work I must go through it and change all the folio references – which I’m not inclined to do. In the post which follows entitled …’and narrow compass’ I’ve left the original Beinecke pagination of f.86v for the Voynich map, because the newer pagination is impossibly cumbersome and, to my mind, less intelligent a way to describe a single drawing covering all of one side of a single large sheet.
But there is some positive news. I’ve decided instead to reprint a more recent post – no older than 2015 – and hope it may still hold some interest for readers.
“… and narrow compass”
first published through Voynichimagery blog Jan. 3rd., 2015.
This continues from a preceding post, but since including the text of two posts would make this (2023) one far too long, this one will do. Wordpress does permit me to make a complete cut and paste copy of the original blogpost with all its illustrations, but won’t let you see the illustrations if I do that. So the text alone I’ve copied-and-pasted direct from the original post, but I’ve had to re-open, copy and then re-inserted all the illustrations. I hope this won’t reduce their quality and have made them all jpeg.
[Original post begins, continuing from a previous one…]
A query kindly offered me by Sir Hubert then led me, via a number of other Psalters, to one from the thirteenth century known as the Psalter-Offices of Joffroy d’Aspremont, where there is an image – not reproduced online as far as I can discover – showing a woman with an aspergillum, or sprinkler.
* Aspergillus would be correct in classical Latin, and is sometimes but not invariably seen in clerical Latin.
But thence to another thirteenth-century manuscript, the ‘Chanson d’Aspremont’* (1230-1240) where on folio 10v I was amazed to see two pictures of a conical tent made rather like some handle-less umbrella, and quite without any addition which would give the inhabitant elbow-room.
*(BL Lansdowne 782 Chanson d’Aspremont fol 10v) .
Here are those images. One shows the tent being erected, the other as it looked with a person seated within.
It takes a most unusual form, very different from the normal kind of pavillion tents that are everywhere seen in medieval imagery of festivals, wars or pleasure gardens. Those I expect you know well enough, but if you don’t object to having to log on to a site, you can see them here in the tenth-century Prudentius manuscript (Burgerbibliothek Bern Cod. 264) folio 65.
It is possible that what we are seeing in this case is the top or ‘umbrella’ section of an ordinary pavilion, erected as immediate cover for generals and kings, but I’ve seen no documentary evidence that this was ever done. If you have, please leave a note.
Postscript 28 Feb. 2015: Well, nobody stopped to leave a note, but I did hear on the grapevine that this picture sent many rushing to the Utrecht Psalter. That doesn’t actually solve the problem of origins, because the style of that Psalter, as you may know, is anything but typical of Latin Christian works even though it has become iconic for many historians of Germany’s gradual conversion to Christianity. To quote a wiki article (because it’s right on this point):
Many of the Frankish aristocracy followed Clovis in converting to Christianity, but the conversion of all his subjects occurred after considerable effort and in some regions over the next two centuries.
There’s a Brit.Lib. cataloguer’s comment that the king in that conical tent may be meant for Charlemagne, though the Normans and not Charlemagne made the fleur-de-lys an heraldic symbol for Christian royalty. The design is very interesting – not unlike that which pictured below, from Giotto’s “Presentation of the Christ at the Temple”.
detail from frescos in the Cappella Scrovegni (Arena Chapel)’s series of 19 scenes from the life of Christ. Painted 1304-1306 by Giotto. This angel appears in Scene 3: ‘the Presentation of Christ’
However – still on the point of that tent – the Utrecht Psalter shows several. Here are two examples:
The king’s war-tent is surmounted by a single cross.
As explanation of the royal sceptre the whole ‘oriflamme’ story as seems a bit of a red herring to me, and the nasty looking weapon
which is seen in a ninth century mosaic as support for the oriflamme looks to me as if meant to represent that soldier’s lance which pierced Christ’s side – hence signifying death – the oriflamme signifying rather the promise of resurrection: Christ’s surviving death and so forth. Immortality despite mortality sort of thing. It’s a pike of some sort I’d say, but not a flower of any sort. The Petrine line governed peace, the royal line war. Or, of course, the mosaicist may have erred; the design becomes a bit confused at that point.
In fact, I erred in being too definite, too soon. Some additional remarks on the subject are included in [another blogpost..] ‘Chronological strata revisited. ” but I have not changed my mind that what we see in folio 85v-1 is not a fleur-de-lys.
Whatever the case, by the thirteenth century there’s nothing unusual about a king or emperor holding a fleur de lys. Here it is associated with Frederick II of Sicily, who may have introduced it as a Norman motif by way of a pun on Lilybaeum.
What is rare is that conical tent in the ‘Chanson d’Aspremont’ manuscript, and its being a vernacular and temporary structure, there’s little chance of determining any original time or place for its first use.
Anybody could ‘invent’ something of the sort by tossing a cloak over some bean-stakes or over a stook, but it is not seen in much formal medieval art. In this case, datable evidence dates the datable evidence, not the object pictured, but other evidence is negligible. Which is not to say but that, by discovering any significance acquired for it, we may be able to learn more about these pictures. I suppose readers have guessed why I’m going into thirteenth century depictions of a conical tent which look like an umbrella …
It’s those intermediate roundels on folio 86v which, like the new sort of maritime charts I’ve mentioned, evoke and/or employ intersecting radial lines as indications of direction, distance and time. Might they also (on folio 86v) represent places – perhaps major hubs of the older routes?
I think it worth mentioning, in that context, that in Latin works the tent was a well-known image of the heavens -a motif well known to the west by reference to Biblical literature and to the east because most of the western Bible came from the eastern side of the Mediterranean, whose history culture and customs it reflects. So:
”[It is] he that sitteth upon the circle of the earth, and the inhabitants thereof [are] as grasshoppers; that stretcheth out the heavens as a curtain, and spreadeth them out as a tent to dwell in:” Isaiah 40:22
which seems to me to equate the teeming hordes of people with pests, while also reminding us that the Feast of Tents (Sukkot) was when eastern, and Jewish, people lived out of their homes – originally in the fields in temporary shelters that are termed Sukka (s.) in the Hebrew and in Latin tabernaculum (s), though the Latin means both a tent and a repository of sacred bread.
In the Latin west, the idea of ‘tabernaculum’ became inflated – or elaborated – though religious comment and homily, apparently beginning with Eusebius (‘from the east’) and following him, by Cassiodorus. On their treatment of it, I’d recommend readers to Mary Carruthers’ The Craft of Thought, though I do want to quote her on one point:
The Tabernacle and Temple of the Lord was formed according to heaven’s pattern [ad instar caeli fuisse formatum] which, painted skillfully in its proper configuration [depicter subtiliter lineamentis propriis]…
I’m now considering whether there’s any evidence of such thinking in the three ‘canopy’ roundels on folio 86v, though if so, I will have to re-consider whether the marker I’ve suggested is Avignon mayn’t be a setting-out point rather than the terminus. These canopies are certainly given the heavens’ ornaments of stars and/or winds, though as I read them, these are three only of what were originally four such – the one posited for the North West having been filled instead with the matter originally set North, this in order that the North roundel might include that ‘mini-map’ showing critical points in the Mediterranean, none of which had been part of the original map.
BELOW: Upper register: North-East ‘canopy’ (left); South-East ‘canopy’ (right). lower register: South-West ‘canopy’ (left); North-West roundel (right) – the last depicting the Black Sea(?) and the overseeing ‘Angel of the Rose’.
At much the same time that Eusebius and Cassiodorus expanded on the theme of the tabernaculum, we have the extraordinary Gregory the Great (expounder of the astronomical imagery in the Book of Job) dilating on the same theme, but showing now how the resident within might be at once protector of the ‘good seed’ and supervisor of mass slaughter as “sacrifice”. This does seem to me a closer mindset to that imagery from the Chanson d’Aspremont.
Note: On Gregory the Great and tabernacula, see Flora Spiegel’s excellent paper, ‘The tabernacula of Gregory the Great’ in Volume 36 (2008) of Malcolm Godden, Simon Keynes (eds.), Anglo Saxon England. Spiegel notes the importance of two more Biblical passages: Deuteronomy 16:13-16 and 31:10.
To see how just how unusual a conical tent is in the context of the Latin medieval west, one need only survey imagery in other surviving manuscripts. The following panorama shows the most common types, while the next illustration (from Cresques’ worldmap in the Atlas Catala) shows Bedu or ‘Moorish’ tents in the fourteenth century.
By the way, Cresques had some fairly technical astronomical lore at his fingertips too. His mounted figure in that detail (above) alludes to Perseus on his ‘unbridled’ steed, al Kumait, gripping the whip of the Pleiades as some versions had it. ‘Heaven-and-earth’ correspondences are perfectly natural for the older ways of navigation and mapping, a habit lost and the two formerly complementary disciplines divorced as quick-and-dirty aids such as the sextant became prevalent.
Though associated with Jews, the teepee-like structure drawn by Niccolo dell’Abbate (here) seems to be a product of his sixteenth-century imagination or perhaps of some report about the Americas and their supposedly containing descendants of Israel’s lost tribes. dell’Abbate lived from 1509/1512 until 1571.
Much better informed, naturally enough, is the late fourteenth century Jewish manuscript below. Thought made in Bologna or Rimini and dated to 1375 (roughly the same time as the Atlas Catala). (Brit.Lib. MS Or 5024, folio 70v).
So it looks as though the Jewish festival booth, the sukkah is not the inspiration for those spread ‘canopies’ in folio 86v. While we’re here, though, you’ll see that pictured below it is a figure holding the Lulav, borne throughout the days of Sukkot, though he is holding one element of it – the etrog – in his hand. As I’ve explained in more detail
elsewhere, I think folio 19r in MS Beinecke 408 also shows a version of the Lulav. When I first wrote about it, and even when republishing thepost, I was troubled by the colour of the flower, but I do not think it so problematic now. The centre is not coloured and most citrus flowers, including the etrog’s, have a blue-to-purplish exterior, so the colour is reasonable enough, given that anything closer to the purple-to-black range would never be shown so in the Vms.
Flowers of the etrog, or citron medica. I think the flower pictured in the Vms (fol. 19r) is a substitute for the etrog; possibly s citron- scented day-lily native to the western Ghats.
Jews living where the etrog would not grow must surely have substituted another lemon-like fruit or lemon-scented flower in their lulav. I’ve so far found no record of how more distant Jewish communities dealt with the matter and any help from readers on this point would be much appreciated.
Back to tabernaculum etc. for a moment.
Medieval manuscripts from England to Armenia show imagery in which a parallel reference is maintained to the tabernaclum as both tent and portable shrine. Here’s a three-dimensional example from the twelfth century. A Christian object. From Cologne.
Such forms did not originate in Europe; a reliquary made a thousand years before, in what is now Afghanistan, is so strongly reminiscent of early Anglo-Norman works that one blinks to recognise here a Buddhist work.
Here’s the Brit. Mus. description of it [the Bimaran reliquary]. Please pay no attention to captions on images of the object that refer to it ‘Scythian treasure’. The object was found in northern Afghanistan (as it now is), in the old Gandharan region, near Jalalabad, in Stupa no. 2. It is associated with the ‘Scythian treasure’ from Kul Oba chiefly by the perfection of its technique.
Postscript (February 17th., 2023)
Readers may be curious about my reference to the lulav and Sukkot, but by 2015 I had been noting and commenting on details which appeared to me indicative of some form of Jewish community, if not necessarily either Karaite or Rabbinic. No one else had suggested any such thing and my comments sank like stones at that time. From 2013 I had been able to gain the advice and assistance of a number of eminent scholars including one whose area of specialisation was medieval Jewish palaeography. However, when a book appeared co-authored by Zandbergen, Prinke and Skinner, in which was contained an evident attempt to duplicate or create an ‘alternative’ as a means to pre-empt my publishing that work, and contained an essay which struck me and my kind advisors as a parody of all I’d produced until then – not only a parody but one offensive for its ignorance as much as for its errors, so they declined any further involvement with Voynich studies and I, myself, finding that travesty the final straw, soon afterwards closed off Voynichimagery from the public.
I could, and can, accept that Skinner and Prinke might not have followed Voynichimagery and may have been left entirely in the dark about my seven years’ work to that time.