Guenevere

I was asked to write a guest post for the Ivory Diaries in a miniseries of posts chronicling Launcelot and Guenevere’s famous affair from the perspectives of various characters in the Arthurian story. The entry below charts the beginning of their forbidden love from the point of view of the leading lady herself…

I was given to Arthur with a piece of furniture – a table, to be precise – as my dowry. He ended up preferring the table.

I’m quite sure he only insisted on marrying me because Merlin told him I was trouble. Arthur always did enjoy the notion of a challenge. Merlin knew, you see, and wanted to protect his precious Arthur. He knew all this would happen with Launcelot and me. The old trickster.

But Merlin, much as he saw, had a very serious blind spot when it came to Arthur’s family. It is they that he should have paid closer attention to – Arthur’s half sisters, to be precise. Arthur created a monster (and here I don’t think I’m being too severe) when he committed that most ungodly of deeds – incest – with his half sister Morgause, and she later gave birth to a son, Mordred. They think I am ignorant of this fact, but I have many eyes and ears in this court. Just looking at that boy makes me shiver with fear. He’ll be trouble, mark my words.

I never could bring myself to touch Arthur after that. But I was still young, so young! Full of life, and wild passions, yet trapped, wasted, untouched. Bought by Arthur’s great name and his little love.

But then… him. Multitudes upon multitudes of women swooned over Launcelot – for his dark beauty, his prowess and chivalry, and his mysterious fey-touched upbringing by the Lady of the Lake. They said he’d never been overcome in battle, unless by treason or enchantment. I rolled my eyes to myself when I heard tell of his reputation, determined not to be impressed (I have always been of a contrary disposition). He arrived at court and the furore was unbelievable. All over one man! No one could be that impressive.

We held a great tournament, and as predicted, Launcelot won the day. As was customary, he dedicated all of his deeds of arms to me, as his queen. His performance had been undeniably impressive and I started to understand what the fuss was about.

But it was later, when evening fell as soft as a caress: the candles had been lit and the little insects had started their chorus, that I understood the true worth of the man. On that balmy summer night, full of hinted promise, Launcelot walked with me around my gardens. Peacocks wandered underneath the trees. Alone, all of his bravado melted away, and we were just a man and a woman, talking. We laughed, and the world itself sparkled. He truly saw me – my strengths and my flaws, all. And he loved me. It is the greatest gift of my admittedly privileged life.

Words, and a few stolen kisses, were all that we enjoyed for some time. We both fought against this adulterous, treacherous fate. But fate goes ever as it must, and eventually we became lovers. Launcelot is the truest lover that ever lived. I know women constantly throw themselves at his feet, but I also know, as surely as I know my own name, that he will never love another but me, in heart, mind or body. Something I certainly never had with Arthur.

Our love is not easy. We are often apart. Admittedly, I have a tendency to caprice and whimsy, and can make Launcelot’s life difficult in many ways, but missing someone constantly can make us behave in strange ways, and he understands that as he understands me. My bigger concern is that I’m sure Arthur’s nephews know about us… They will make trouble for us one day, no doubt. I have seen Agravain watching from dark corners as Launcelot and I talk. I have seen him whispering wickedly with Mordred. But there is absolutely no way that I am going to give up the most precious part of my life. I have too few other joys.

Some say that Launcelot and I will be the downfall of Arthur and Camelot. To them I say: have you not seen the many other fractures in this place; the wicked things that go on here, and the wicked people? Launcelot and I are the purest thing in this whole wretched kingdom, and no matter what else happens, I know that we will meet a good end, because our love is true.

Reproduced with kind permission from the Ivory Diaries.

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Carnivalesque #98

Hello readers! Those of you who follow me here and on Twitter may have noticed that I’ve been a bit quiet over the past few months. Personal stuff (don’t worry, all fine now!), my first chapter and  imminent PhD upgrade (fingers crossed!) have all kept me busy, but now I’m ready to get back into the swing of things! How better to do this than by hosting the latest edition of Carnivalesque? I’m pleased to present, for your delectation, a round-up of the cream of recent blog posts ancient and medieval (and possibly the first ever Carnivalesque with an underwear theme!). Enjoy!

Let’s start with some serious stuff: In his latest post on the bonæ litteræ blog, David Rundle asks What is Private History? in response to the recent surge in public history academic programmes and events.

Also taking a step back to contemplate the academy – this time in terms of the study of medieval literature and the importance of remembering the love we hold for our disciplines – the Suburban Academic considers public ‘activism and outreach’ of medievalists within the wider context of the state of the humanities in “I am an Anglo-Saxonist” or, What a Medievalist Looks Like.

Also on an Anglo-Saxon theme, The Freelance History Writer delves into the life of Eadburh, Queen of the West Saxons – ‘infamous for being an evil queen.’ But was being wilful and reckless the greatest crime of King Offa’s daughter?

This blogger also turns her hand to an altogether less vilified Anglo-Saxon figure in her post on Alfred the Great, Anglo-Saxon King of Wessex, exploring how this famous king worked to bring about the conditions for a unified England, fought off the Danes, and the many reforms he made during his reign.

Hopping forward to 1263, in her post From fighting to friendship: the Largs Viking Festival Beoshewulf discusses the Battle of Largs and a modern-day festival in the west of Scotland to commemorate a battle that was never actually won…

Travelling from Scotland to the heart of London, the London Unveiled blog gives an insight into a modern medical institution with a very medieval past in a post dedicated to St. Bartholomew’s Hospital Museum. From a vision of St Bartholomew in the Middle Ages to Sherlock Holmes’ first meeting with Dr. Watson in ‘A Study in Scarlet’ – this hospital has a rich and fascinating history (both real and literary), and the museum sounds well worth a visit.

John Hodgson considers marginalia in his post on the John Rylands Library Special Collections Blog: Life on the Edge: Marginalia. This is a fantastically informative resource on different types of marginalia: if you want to know your drolleries from your manicules then this is the place for you.

Sticking with marginalia for the moment, Sarah J. Biggs at the British Library has posted another absolute corker on the Medieval Manuscripts blog. Knight v Snail highlights one particularly interesting example of marginalia common to several manuscripts in the later Middle Ages in a curious case of inter-species violence…

But it’s not all antipathy between the species! Sometimes animals can help humans out – although not always voluntarily… Dr Hannah Newton tells us about one example of animal assistance on the Early Modern Medicine blog in her post Wet Beds & Hedgehogs. Apparently one of the many weird and wonderful early modern remedies for bed-wetting was a ‘hedg-hog dryed.’ Definitely a powerful incentive to hold it in until morning!

Loitering in the nether regions for our next two posts, S.J. Pearce considers notions of underwear and class in Umayyad, Underwear, Upper Class… This piece wins the prize for most frequent use of the word ‘underwear’ in a medieval blog post. And for punning about pants. Amazing!

Rebecca Unsworth explores that most fascinating of later medieval clothing items, the codpiece, in Oranges and Syphilis: The Use of the Codpiece as a Pocket on the Unmaking Things blog. Was the codpiece the male equivalent of a handbag? Did it become ‘a pocket in which a gentleman kept his handkerchief and purse and even oranges, which he would pull out before the ladies’ eyes and hand to them’? Or is this a load of sixteenth-century stuff and nonsense?

For another bit of light-hearted historical humour turn your attention to the Ivory Diaries – a new blog set up by medievalists at the University of York, where ‘Any relation to actual persons, all dead, or actual events, is entirely deliberate and highly desirable.’ The latest post is by Little John of Robin Hood fame, where he admits that it’s not as straightforward being one of Robin’s outlaws as one might expect!

We started on a serious note, so let’s end on one too. Edmund Weiner, deputy chief editor of the Oxford English Dictionary gives us this hugely informative piece on Grammar in early modern English, taking his readers through the gamut of early modern grammatical foibles from noun inflections to gerunds to syntax. A valuable resource for anyone interested in this era of the English language.

With that I leave you to your cup of tea and these fantastic posts, proving once again that our ancient and medieval past is still very much alive and kicking. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I take no responsibility for the pants-related posts in this issue of Carnivalesque. It was you, the medieval blog-reading public who nominated these posts. You have only yourselves to blame for what is clearly a bit of an obsession with the nether regions of history.**

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The Arthurian Tradition: Annales Cambriae

Since starting my PhD in January I’ve taken a bit of a break from my Arthurian Tradition series of blog posts because being immersed in fifteenth-century Arthurian literature for my thesis meant that hopping back to the early medieval Arthur felt a bit jarring! But now that I’ve nearly finished the first chapter of my thesis (well, almost!) I feel a bit of mental liberty to dive further back in time again. In the last post in this series I left you with the Historia Brittonum – an ostensibly ninth-century text detailing the abandonment of Britain by the Romans and the subsequent period of upheaval, plus Vortigern, his tower, and Merlin; and the heroic figures of Ambrosius and Arthur. This time we turn to the Annales Cambriae

The Annales Cambriae (the Welsh Annals) were written in south-west Wales around 960-80 (somewhat ironically) in Latin. Who wrote them, why they were written or who they were written for are all things I’m finding very difficult to discover – I would be very grateful to anyone who can elucidate upon this. The earliest extant copy of them survives in British Library MS Harley 3859, folios 190r-193r, dating from the first half of the twelfth century and bound in the same manuscript as a surviving copy of the Historia Brittonum. There are several other copies of the Annales in later manuscripts.

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‘Text page in three narrow columns, with one line for each year (abbreviated ‘an’ for ‘annum’), most remaining blank. This is the first page of the annals, starting with the year 447. In the third column, the long entry for 516 tells of Arthur’s victory at the Battle of Badon, in which he “carried the cross of Christ upon his shoulders for three days.”’ Taken from the British Library digitised manuscripts website.

Professor Ronald Hutton highlights the importance of the Annales to the development of the early Arthur because ‘it represents the first attempt to locate Arthur in exact time.’1 The project of placing Arthur within a specific chronological set of events reveals itself in two dates within the text: 516 and 537 (or 518 and 539, depending on the text’s base-line).  On these given dates, the chronicle outlines two battles, offering the bare-bones of their geographical locations and the names of some of the battles’ participants, as follows:

516: ‘The battle of Badon, in which Arthur carried the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ on his shoulders [or shield] for three days and nights and the Britons were victors.’

537: ‘The battle of Camlann in which Arthur and Medraut perished, and there was death in England and Ireland.’

Arthur is figured in this text as Christian (outwardly at least), and presumably a warrior of some description to have fought at these two battles. We cannot tell if he is a king or battle leader from this passage, although the fact that he is mentioned by name suggests that he is an important figure. There is little else that can be effectively established from these entries, except that he won the first battle and lost his life at the second. We do not know if there is a familial relationship between him and Medraut, who is probably a prototype of the later medieval Mordred. Is he the illegitimate progeny of Arthur’s incestuous liaison as in subsequent literature? Were they on the same side, or adversaries?

The reference to Arthur bearing the cross on his shoulders or shield (the words for each are identical in Old Welsh) echoes the passage in the Historia Brittonum which states that Arthur carried the image of the Virgin Mary into battle, and it has been suggested that the compiler of the Annales Cambriae would almost certainly have read the Historia. Interestingly, It has been suggested that the entries for both battles in the Annales might have come from different sources, because the entry on Badon ‘gives the name of the battle, like the rest of the chronicle, in Latin, while that on Camlann gives it in Welsh.’ 2

In a later version of the Annales than the one found in the Harley manuscript, there is also another line pertaining to Arthurian legend:

573: The battle of Arfderydd between the sons of Eliffer and Gwenddolau son of Ceidio; in which battle Gwenddolau fell; Merlin went mad.

Here an interpolation adds another element of the Arthurian legends in the form of Merlin, but intriguingly this is a good thirty-six years after Arthur is said to have died at the Battle of Camlann.

These passages provide us with the first mention of Medraut/Mordred, placing him in battle with Arthur, but whether by his side or against him is impossible to tell. Slowly then, we are starting to see the gradual development of the Arthurian legend over time and place.

(On a side note: my favourite entry in the Annales is for the year 721, which simply states ‘A hot summer.’ In Britain?! I find this almost harder to believe than the historical Arthur.)

Full text of the Annales Cambriae available at: http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/source/annalescambriae.asp

1 Ronald Hutton. “The early Arthur: history and myth.” The Cambridge Companion to the Arthurian Legend. Edited by Elizabeth Archibald and Ad Putter. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. pp. 21-35 (p. 25).

2 Ibid., p. 26.

 

Further reading:

Bromwich, Rachel, ed. The Arthur of the Welsh: The Arthurian Legend in Medieval Welsh Literature. Cardiff: Cardiff University Press, 1991.

Dumville, D.N., ‘Sub-Roman Britain: History and Legend’, History, (62): (1977),173-92.

Higham, N. J. King Arthur, Myth-Making and History, London: Routledge, 2002.

Hutton, Ronald. “The early Arthur: history and myth.” The Cambridge Companion to the Arthurian Legend. Edited by Elizabeth Archibald and Ad Putter. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. pp. 21-35

Morris, John. British History and the Welsh Annals, Arthurian Period Sources 8. Chichester: Phillimore, 1980.

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Filed under King Arthur, The Arthurian Legend, The Arthurian Tradition, Uncategorized, Welsh tradition

6 Months into the PhD

At the end of 2012 I wrote a blog post explaining Why I Decided to Quit My Job and Move 200 Miles to do a PhD. Now, half a year later, I take a look back at the first six months of my PhD and consider the highs, the lows and what it’s been like to adjust to the student lifestyle again.

Firstly, I feel I should apologise to all PhD students past and present. I realise now that I came into this whole thing with swaggering over-confidence. I’d been working full-time while I did my Masters part-time, and refused to believe that a PhD could be any harder than that. But what a learning curve the past six months have been, and I don’t just mean from hitting the books! I can’t remember any time in my adult life that I’ve done so much soul-searching, or been on such an emotional rollercoaster. And this is why.

Structure

Studying for a PhD involves a tremendous change in lifestyle when compared to the 9-5 working-week structure that I’ve become used to over the past five years. Despite cursing at times the 7am Monday alarm in my editorial office jobs, that working week gave my life a sense of rhythm and routine that I didn’t appreciate at the time. Being a PhD student means being in complete control of your time – no seminars or lectures to attend (unless you choose to audit Masters classes, which I did with Latin) and very few deadlines. Even my supervisions are only once a month. This might sound like heaven, but in reality it has probably been the change that I’ve found it hardest to adapt to. Being alone with the books all week has left me at times feeling isolated and a bit adrift, lost in a sea of reading material. I’m very lucky though, because my department has a dedicated working space for PhD students – we are allocated a desk each, so I have the option to go there when I need some company and sanity (although a room full of PhD students very rarely offers the latter!).

Time Management

This brings me onto time management. When I started my PhD I said very resolutely to myself that I’d maintain my 9-5 working ethic and do a full working week, every week. I have since realised that there are serious problems with this plan. Doing a PhD demands very different skills to working in an office. It’s intellectually exhausting in a way that editing never was for me. Have you ever tried reading and writing scholarly criticism for a full 7-hour day, 5 days a week? It’s nigh on impossible. I found I was beating myself up for procrastinating (like rewatching all 7 seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in 6 months) or doing life admin-type tasks in the middle of the working day and not being consistently productive from 9-5. Doing a PhD requires not only the grunt work of reading, but also flashes of inspiration – and these don’t necessarily come when they’re bidden. I tend to get them at the least opportune times, like when I’m in the shower, singing Alanis Morissette’s back catalogue, or working out at the gym. So I’ve made peace with other ways of working, and have realised that giving myself a mental break is just as vital as doing the hard work of reading, writing and thinking.

A PhD is Not Just a Thesis

I won’t lie, it’s been a bit of a shock to discover just how much PhD students are expected to cram in alongside writing an 80-100,000 word thesis. I suppose I envisaged sitting in the library for 3 years, and then Ta Dah! – a thesis.  What’s so hard about writing 80,000 words in three years, eh? But even if that was all it is, the sheer volume of material you have to read would still fill up 3 years quite well – unlike in a BA or MA, where you do your research, hand in your essay and then get a mark, with a PhD you’re supposed to be THE authority in your subject. Scholars in the outside world will (it is hoped) read your thesis. You’re supposed to know your sh*t and write authoritatively, and this requires LOTS of reading, not just on your specific subject, but all around it too. You don’t want to get egg on your face by missing out something important. Add to this supervisions; mandatory and optional training courses; writing conference papers; speaking at, attending and organising conferences; going to reading groups or organising them; Thesis Advisory Panels; taking part in the activities of the department; learning Latin, Old French, Old English and palaeography, as well as trying to write articles/chapters, teaching and marking (although I haven’t had to do the latter three yet as I’m still in my first year) and you find your time pretty well-filled.

It’s all great stuff though, and one of the most pleasant surprises I’ve had since starting my PhD is the overwhelming amount of opportunities that present themselves to doctoral students – a week of AHRC-funded archives training at the National Archives at Kew in March, a two-week, all expenses paid trip to Vienna for European manuscripts training in August,  launching my very own course in Arthurian traditions at the Centre for Lifelong Learning attached to the university, and many more besides. All of these wonderful experiences wouldn’t be possible if I wasn’t here. Doing a PhD is so much more challenging and competitive than I ever thought it would be, but it is also incredibly fulfilling and rewarding.

Money

Funding. Some people have it. Some, like me, do not. I’m used to having a stable income, and the fact that I no longer have one has kept me awake at night more than any other issue at various points over the past 6 months. Wondering how I’m going to afford to live past my first year, and whether I did the right thing in leaving behind a successful career has induced panicked cold sweats. Also wondering ‘Am I actually good enough to succeed at this?’ But despite these worries, I still haven’t developed that essential ‘poor student’ approach to life. I can’t live on noodles. I can’t abide cheap wine anymore. I hate the fact that a lot of students don’t offer to buy each other drinks – it just seems so miserly. I’ve had a taste of a ‘grown-up’ world with income, and am finding it hard to go back. I’m sure this will all work itself out in time (probably when I’m so poor that I’m faced with the choice between living on noodles or starving to death). Or I’ll have to get a part-time job (not as ideal as it sounds – see above re: time management). In the meantime I’ll keep applying for funding and have everything crossed.

New Places Can Be Lonely… At First

Making new friends when you’re an adult is a funny thing. I’m an only child of a single parent, and when my mum and I used to go on holiday she understandably enjoyed her ‘me’ time with a glass of wine and a book and would always encourage me to go off and make friends. I never found this difficult – it was usually just as easy as walking up to someone of a similar age and asking them if they wanted to hang out. But when you’re an adult in a new place, it seems like social protocol gets in the way. Another newbie started his PhD within a day of me, and we bonded quickly and easily over our shared newness, but everyone else already knew each other and although they were all welcoming, it felt difficult to penetrate pre-existing friendship groups. My friends and family were all in London and Wales, and for a good few months I felt quite lonely in this new city where I had made lots of acquaintances but no real friends. I wanted to jump past the acquaintance part and get straight down to the business of being good pals. Of course friendship is something that comes with time and shared experiences, it doesn’t happen overnight. I knew that. Loneliness can amplify other issues – as it turns out a problem shared really is a problem halved, and since making a group of really lovely friends here I feel like a lot of my worries have melted away, seeming less important. We talk and laugh, and life is better.

All in All…

I’m loving it! Doing a PhD in a new city has forced me to tap strengths in myself that I haven’t had to draw on in a long time. You don’t realise how much you rely on everyday contact with loved ones until you’re apart, or how safe a routine can make you feel until you’re not in it anymore. All the inner turmoil of the last 6 months has made me stronger, more resolute, more at peace with the decisions I’ve made, and more determined to succeed and grasp every opportunity I can. I’m happy, really genuinely happy. And how could I not be? My daily occupation is researching interesting things! I cannot emphasise strongly enough how very privileged I feel to be doing what I love. You’ll often see me smiling to myself as I walk along York’s medieval streets, happy in my little medieval world.

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The Minories

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We continue our medieval tour of London by turning our feet south and heading back towards the river (and the Tower) using the street that today is called the Minories.

The Minories is a strange street name. As a child I assumed that it was something to do with Royal Mint Street which is very close by. But as it turns out, the two things are unrelated except for their shared location. If you walk down the Minories today from Aldgate, you’ll discover that it’s a fairly soulless concrete conglomeration of offices, bars and lunchtime eateries for the 9-5 workers, and that very little of medieval London remains to be seen apart from the rough positioning of the road along the old city wall.

Owing to its position on the edge of the financial district the Minories is mostly deserted at weekends, and is altogether a fairly unremarkable street. But keep walking south, following the road as it curves left and then right, passing beneath railway arches and Royal Mint Street on your left, and you’ll see not only the Tower of London ahead, but also a huge walled compound on your left that seems highly incongruous with the sights of the street you’ve just travelled along.

New Royal Mint

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Section of “Improved map of London for 1833, from Actual Survey. Engraved by W. Schmollinger, 27 Goswell Terrace” showing the location of the Royal Mint.

Follow this long yellow brick wall (in true Wizard of Oz fashion!) and you arrive at a rather grand and stately building. This is (or was) the New Royal Mint. In the early nineteenth century the decision was made to remove the mint from the Tower of London following the outbreak of war with France and the resulting demands on the Tower’s space. Building work began on Little Tower Hill in 1805, and was completed in 1809. The buildings housed the new steam-powered minting machinery and residences for officers and staff, and were surrounded by a boundary (the yellow brick wall) shadowed by a narrow alleyway that officers could patrol.  The mint outgrew these buildings and was moved to Wales following decimalisation, and this structure is now used as commercial offices by Barclays.

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A contemporary engraving of the new Royal Mint from a drawing by T H Shepherd, 1830

The Abbey of the Minoresses of the Order of St Clare

You may be wondering what this has to do with the Minories. Well, the new (or should that now be old?) royal mint buildings stand on roughly the former site of the house of the Grace of the Blessed Mary, founded in 1293 by Edmund earl of Lancaster for the nuns of the order of St Clare. It was also known as the Abbey of the Minoresses, from which the word Minories has evolved. The earl’s wife Blanche, queen of Navarre, brought the establishment’s first inhabitants over from France, and the house enjoyed several royal privileges courtesy of the earl’s brother, Edward I, including ‘exemption from summonses before the justices in eyre for common pleas and pleas of the forest.’ Even pope Boniface VIII ordered that any sentences of excommunication imposed by bishops or rectors against the house would be meaningless, and declared the nuns ‘free from all jurisdiction of the archbishop of Canterbury and the bishop of London.’ Records also indicate that Queen Isabella was a generous benefactor to the house, and Henry IV granted it several privileges. If we recall the nearby St Katherine’s by the Tower hospital and the special attention paid to it by successive queens, a picture begins to emerge of an area surrounding the Tower of London in which royal patrons took a particular interest.

But patronage of this religious house was not limited to royalty: Elizabeth de Burgh Lady Clare bequeathed £20, ornaments and furniture to the house in 1355, as well as separate pots of money to the abbess and each of the sisters, and was buried there after her death. Another affluent London widow, Lucia Visconti was also buried there. Margaret countess of Norfolk granted a gift of rent to the house in 1382. Even John of Gaunt bequeathed £100 to the sisters in 1397. Despite this attention, successive pleas were made by the religious house for financial exemptions on account of its poverty between 1316 -1353.

The house also enjoyed some well-known guests and inhabitants. After the death of her husband, the earl of Warwick, Margaret Beauchamp was granted leave by the pope in 1398 to reside in the house for as long as she wished. Eleanor Lady Scrope, daughter of Ralph de Neville, took the veil there after her husband died. Henry earl of Lancaster visited in 1349. Thomas de Woodstock, duke of Gloucester obtained various advowsons for the house, and even had his own residence right next to the convent’s church with a door made between the two buildings so he could come and go as he pleased. Interestingly the nuns did not afford the next resident of that house the same privilege after the duke’s death.

In 1515 the house was struck down with an infectious illness which was the end of twenty-seven of the sisters, and shortly after this the building burned down. Various benefactors donated enough to rebuild the house, including funds given at the instruction of Cardinal Wolsey, but it was all for nought, because in 1539 Henry VIII nabbed the abbey.

The Minories after the Middle Ages

In the sixth year of his reign Edward VI granted to Henry Grey the duke of Suffolk a place ‘formerly called “le myneryes” in the parish of St Botolph without Algate London.’ The duke seems to have shared ownership with his younger brothers, some of whom forfeited their shares in the estate after being implicated in the Wyatt rebellion. On 22nd September 1563 the Minories were eventually bought by Elizabeth I. Sometime in the sixteenth century the abbey seems to have been demolished and a number of buildings, along with a small church dedicated to the Holy Trinity, were erected on its site. The church was also known as Holy Trinity Minories (see the engraving at the top of this post) and St Clare without Aldgate. The other buildings were used as storehouses (particularly for munitions), workhouses and official residences, as well as apartments for other private residents. One account suggests that it was also ‘rather a favourite place of abode for some of the royal musicians’ and another cites the church as a well-known location for clandestine marriages in early modern London!

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From J. T. Smith’s Ancient Topography of London

In the late seventeenth-century space was starting to become an issue, with the East India Company encroaching upon the church’s land with their warehouses.  This had the rather gruesome result of affecting the grave sites, and there are records of a ‘wholesale removal of the dead’ from the burial plots in the church grounds to make room for fresh burials, and also a newly-adopted policy of burying the dead first at a depth of six feet before moving on to the next layer to bury them at a slightly lesser depth, and so on, until finally the churchyard was so full the ‘the parishioners were sorely puzzled as to what expedient could next be tried for providing additional space for burial.’

The church was rebuilt in 1706, but gradually the inhabited houses in the precinct were replaced by warehouses and railways as the Victorian age took hold. The Minories railway station was built in 1840 as a part of the London and Blackwall Railway – a 3.5-mile (5.6 km) cable railway. The site is now a Docklands Light Railway station called Tower Gateway, which opened in 1989. In 1899 the parishes of St Botolph Without Aldgate and Holy Trinity Minories were united.

The rest is history! A holy house, munitions storage, houses favoured by musicians, a church used for clandestine weddings, a royal mint, a train station and finally some offices. The Minories have seen it all. Sadly in 1940 the Holy Trinity Minories church was bombed and destroyed, leaving behind no architectural evidence that the Minories ever existed – just a street name that confused a young Medieval Bex.

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Holy Trinity Minories (west front) from Edward Murray Tomlinson, A History of the Minories (1907)

So far we’ve been hovering along the boundaries of the medieval City of London, but join me on our next stop when we enter the City proper by crossing into that fortress and unmistakable symbol of royal power – the Tower of London. If walls could speak…

Further reading:

Barron, Caroline M. and Anne F. Sutton. Medieval London widows, 1300-1500. London; Rio Grande, Ohio, U.S.A.: Hambledon Press, 1994.

British History Online. ‘The Minoresses Without Aldgate’: http://www.british-history.ac.uk/report.aspx?compid=35371

St Botolph Without Aldgate with Holy Trinity Minories: https://familysearch.org/learn/wiki/en/St_Botolph_Without_Aldgate_with_Holy_Trinity_Minories,_Middlesex#Holy_Trinity_Minories_Parish

The Royal Mint Museum: http://www.royalmintmuseum.org.uk/history/the-royal-mint-story/tower-hill/index.html

Tomlinson, Edward Murray. A History of the Minories. London: Smith, Elder and Co., 1907. Online version: http://archive.org/details/historyofminorie00tomluoft

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The Leibster Award

A week or so ago I found I had been nominated for the Liebster Award by not one, but two bloggers, separately:

Sarah’s History

Tales From A Tour Guide

I’d never heard of the Leibster Award before, so this was rather a surprise! An online search later, I discovered that it’s an award chosen by bloggers for other blogs that they think are really rather good. Having only started my blog less than a year ago, and having been terribly remiss at posting on it since starting my PhD in January, I was chuffed, to say the least. It’s really nice to know that people are reading what you’re putting out there, and what’s more, that they actually enjoy it!

Coincidentally, I write this blog post just as I reach 500 followers on Twitter. Seeing as I mostly tweet about medieval things, I find this somewhat touching, and heartening. People are interested in the medieval! I know it’s not the outrageous numbers of followers sported by popstars (Rihanna has 28,675,811 followers at time of writing) or even joke accounts (Bad Joke Cat has 118,193), but considering I don’t have naked pictures of myself as my Twitter picture, and nor am I a cute, joke-telling kitty, I’m pleased with my number, happy to have so many people showing an interest in medieval topics.

But perhaps the medieval is back in vogue, peeking out of the academic sphere to make a comeback in the arena of popular culture? There seems to be an almost constant stream of medieval documentaries on British television at the moment (particularly on BBC4), not to mention the popularity of historical novels (think Philippa Gregory, Elizabeth Chadwick) and medieval-esque novels (think Game of Thrones), plus my thesis supervisor was on BBC Radio 4 with Melvyn Bragg recently, discussing Malory’s Morte D’Arthur. As one fellow Twitterstorian said to me when I expressed my surprise at having such a following: ‘Medieval is “the new black” – we’re cool. We’re the new “it” factor – everyone wants a medieval friend. Roll with it :)

Perhaps she’s right!

Anyway, getting back to the award. The rules of the Liebster Award are as follows :

  1. Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog and link back to the blogger who presented this award to you. (Please do look at both these ladies’ blogs, they’re fab!)
  2. Answer the 11 questions from the nominator, list 11 random facts about yourself and create 11 questions for your nominees. (See below)
  3. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 11 blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed and leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been chosen. (See below)
  4. Copy and Paste the blog award on your blog (here it is!)

Here are the answers to the eleven questions I was given by my nominees! (As I was nominated twice I’ll answer a mixture of questions from both):

1. What is your favourite book, of all time?

It’s a book that very few other people seem to have heard of! It’s a novel for young adults called The Little White Horse, written by Elizabeth Goudge in 1946. Don’t let the name fool you, it isn’t tepid, wishy-washy stuff. Set in 1842, the orphaned Maria Merryweather, accompanied by her governess and dog, sets off to live with an uncle she’s never met before in the timeless village of Moonacre. There she finds an ancient family feud, a magical inheritance, and also meets a mysterious boy whom she’s sure she’s met before… The whole book is full of characters that burst out of the pages and into life, and creates a beautiful magical realism I’ve never seen matched elsewhere. You’re never quite sure whether things are actually supernatural, or whether it’s all a matter of perspective. This book has been dear to me since it first fired my imagination as a child, and even now as an adult I return to it when I want to escape to the world of Moonacre. Every time I read it I see new levels of meaning that flew straight over my head when I was younger; this book stands the test of time.

2. Which five historical figures would you invite to your fantasy dinner party?

Ooh this is a game I often play, and it’s always so difficult to choose! I’d definitely invite William Marshal because he lived an amazing life (and after reading Elizabeth Chadwick’s novels about him, how could I not?!), Elizabeth I (my mum’s ultimate heroine – she’s passed the bug on to me a little too), Geoffrey Chaucer (to see if he could drink a gallon of wine, and because he’s an east London lad), Margery Kempe (she’s such a hoot) and of course, if there’s such an historical personage as King Arthur, he’d HAVE to be there, just to answer the question, once and for all, of whether he existed!!!

3. Do you have any bad habits?

Several! My worst is probably switching off from unstimulating conversations. Especially if I’ve had a drink or two. It really is a horrible personality foible and I’m working hard to erase it.

4. What would your death row meal be?

A genuine Thai green curry with coconut rice. Without hesitation. I could eat that all day every day, yum!

5. Do you have a pet hate?

Several, and as I get older I find I’m getting more of them! The one that makes me peeved on a daily basis is people not being aware of, or not respecting, other people’s space. This takes the form of groups of people blocking the pavement, or someone putting their bag on a seat on a busy train, or playing music loudly on public transport… I think it’s symptomatic of this western, capitalist ‘me first’ attitude that we seem to embrace now. It really pisses me off. I’m glad that I can walk everywhere now that I live in York.

6. Where is your favourite place in the world?

So far… Iceland or Tintagel. If you really forced me to choose, then I’d choose Tintagel. There’s something about that place, something about Cornwall as a whole, too. I think it might have something to do with the apartness of it all, geographically and historically. The west of the island of Britain wasn’t as affected as much as the east by Anglo-Saxon and Danish invaders, and there is an oldness, a wildness to the west of the country that I feel when I’m in north Wales too. Of course the Arthurian in me loves Tintagel’s literary connections with Arthur, but aside from that, it really is the most magical place. The ruins of the castle, isolated on a sea-battered headland, the moors, the cliffs, the hidden glens, the fresh Atlantic air… not to mention the Cornish pasties and cream teas! I’d recommend a visit to that part of the world to anyone. It infuses the soul with magic and wonder.

7. What would you do with a £50m lottery win?

Give me a moment… *daydreams*… Ok I’m back. Well I’d be boring and do what everyone else says they’d do in the first instance. I’d start by paying off the debts of mine and my partner’s families, as well as our own debts of course (take THAT, never-ending student loan!!!). I’d pay for my PhD in full and then I’d buy a HOUSE. A house with a LIBRARY where I could put all my books, and buy even more books to fill it with!! And a STUDY. Oh my goodness. Even the thought of that is enough to induce near-hysterical glee. I’d also travel. I’d go everywhere, starting with Brazil. I really fancy Brazil. I’d get a personal trainer who would shape my body into a temple. Basically I would do whatever I wanted. Nothing has ever stopped me from doing what I want to anyway, really, but with money like that, I would really have fun. I’d live life to the full. Plus that’s too much for little old me to spend in a lifetime, so I’d definitely give some away – probably to an environmental charity, and I’d set up scholarships for poor kids from the east end like me, and do lots of volunteer work, because let’s face it, I’d probably never have to work again, if I didn’t want to. Although I’m sure I still would. Maybe.

8. What is your greatest achievement to date?

Finishing my Masters whilst working full-time. THAT was hard.

9. Can you tell us about one of your goals for the future?

My main goal is to be happy. Right now, today, in this moment, I’m happy, but happiness is something you get from within, an attitude to life that you have to keep working on. I feel strongly that happiness isn’t something that can be provided by external sources or stimuli unless your mindset is right. But in terms of those external things, I’d really like to do the best job I can do on my PhD. If I can look back at the end of three years and say yep, I did my best, then that will help make me happy.

10. What is your favourite thing about blogging?

Doing the research! I only blog about things I’m interested in, and it always fascinates me to know more about them – the places I’ve lived or have been to, and the people who’ve gone before us. The amazing thing about history is that it all actually happened! Being a literary scholar before an historical scholar, I sometimes get wrapped up in texts and forget that.

11. And finally, have I annoyed you by nominating you for the Liebster?

Not at all, I’m flattered! It’s a lovely pat on the back, and lets me know I’m on the right track with my blog. It’s a welcome recognition.

And here are 11 random facts about myself!

  1. I’m a qualified Yoga teacher. I’ve been doing Yoga since I was fifteen, and have been going intermittently since then to my first class, taught by a lovely lady called Jane. One day she suggested that I do a teacher training course to push myself further and extend my own practice, so a few years ago, I did! Learning Yoga and practicing it on a daily basis has undoubtedly changed my life and my health, and I truly believe that doctors should consider prescribing Yoga before they prescribe lots of other things for mental, physical or emotional complaints. It has helped to ground me and keep me sane during trying and stressful times in my life, and is now so deeply ingrained in my lifestyle that it’s automatic.
  2. I am hopelessly rubbish with dates. Yep, as someone doing a PhD in medieval studies I realise this isn’t ideal. Oh well.
  3. I don’t drink much coffee. Having more than one cup a day makes me go a bit jittery. I realise that this is an oddity in both the professional and academic worlds, where caffeine is a staple. What can I say? I’m high on life!
  4. I’m SCUBA trained up to PADI Divemaster level. In my gap year I went to Borneo with an organisation called Greenforce. They trained us up in SCUBA diving and every day we went diving, undertaking wildlife and coral biodiversity surveys. Diving is one of the things I love to do most in the whole world – alas I don’t like diving in cold water, and it’s pretty expensive to go to hot countries, so I haven’t had the chance to do it in quite some time!
  5. I cry really easily when I’m happy. I mostly cry when I’m happy, I can’t remember the last time I cried when sad. Which I guess is a good thing!
  6. I support Arsenal FC. It’s a family thing. I enjoy going to matches with my cousin but don’t really follow them on tv or anything.
  7. I am a huge fan of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Joss Whedon is a god, and I’ve pretty much loved everything he’s ever done, but Buffy holds a special place in my heart. It was on tv during my teenage years, and holds a special relevance for that time in my life. Plus, as I’ve gone back and re-watched it subsequently, I’ve found that I love it just as much as a twenty-something as I did as a teen! It has stood the test of time.
  8. I’ve been with my partner, Julian, for nearly 7 years. I don’t feel old enough for this to be true, but it is! He’s a scientist, and we’re different in so many ways, but this has proven to be one of our greatest strengths, and I wouldn’t change a thing.
  9. I have a cat called Medea. She’s the most wonderful cat in the world, and we have strangely similar temperaments.
  10. I hate peas. They’re the devil’s vegetable!
  11. I used to work in publishing. I don’t anymore, but I wouldn’t rule it out for the future.

And here are 11 questions for my nominated bloggers:

  1. Where is your favourite place in the world?
  2. Where would you like to visit next?
  3. Who is your idol?
  4. What is the best thing about you?
  5. What is the worst thing about you?
  6. What’s your favourite thing to do in your spare time?
  7. If you could invite five people to a dinner party, whether historical, still living, or fictional characters, who would you invite?
  8. If you could have any super-power, what would it be?
  9. What do you sing in the shower/bath/dancing around in your bedroom?
  10. What single thing would you HAVE to take with you to a desert island?
  11. And finally, food: savoury or sweet?

So without further ado, here are my eleven blog nominations, in no particular order:

Sarah’s history – I don’t know if you can nominate someone who’s already nominated you, but I don’t care! Sarah writes prolifically and magnificently, and I can only sit back and gawp at the sheer volume and quality of her blog posts. I bow before her awesomeness!!

Vulpes Libris – a collective of bibliophiles writing about books.

London Unveiled – great places to visit off the beaten path

Spitalfields Life – this blog is very dear to my heart, as the author writes so beautifully and eloquently on all aspects of east London and its fascinating history.

Two Nerdy History Girls – Bestselling authors Loretta Chase and Isabella Bradford gossip about history, writing, and shoes. They do an excellent Saturday morning breakfast round-up of history blog posts from the week.

Suburban Academic – Written by a PhD student of Old English, chronicles, histories, maps and digital humanities.

Saints, Sisters and Sluts – Famous and infamous women in history.

The Freelance History Writer – Here Susan Abernathy explores a wide range of historical subjects, from Ancient to mid-20th century. Susan is also one of the contributors to the Saints, Sisters and Sluts blog mentioned above.

beoshewulf - All things Old English and Anglo-Saxon, written by my lovely friend Hana who is currently writing her PhD thesis on blood in Old English poetry.

My Albion – A chronicle of sundry adventures in England.

DarkHarte Travel – my very good friend Jonathan is currently living in India, but he’s travelled all over the place! This is his travel blog.

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Chaucer’s Aldgate

Two significant life-changes (moving to York and starting a PhD) have kept me busy over the past month, but finally I welcome you to the second stop on our tour of medieval London! Last time we visited St Katharine’s by the Tower, a medieval hospital under queenly care. Now we turn our feet north, away from the river and the Tower, along the old Roman wall… to Aldgate.

1880 map of London showing the Roman wall

An 1880 map of London, showing the Roman wall (from: http://www.antiquaprintgallery.com)

Tracing the old London Wall as it weaves in and out of modern developments, we eventually arrive at Aldgate. Once the eastern-most entrance through the London Wall to the City of London, Aldgate was an important travelling route in and out of the city. A report from the Archaeology Data Service drawn from a survey that took place during a refurbishment of two sites in Aldgate in 1998 (87-89 Aldgate High Street and 37 Jewry Street) uncovered deposits from the Roman through to post-medieval periods, indicating that Aldgate was ‘one of the main thoroughfares leading out of the walled City of London…located on the eastern side of the City’s defensive circuit straddling the main Roman road to Colchester’ (p. 179).

Aldgate AD 200

A reconstruction of what Aldgate might have looked like in AD 200

Modern Aldgate, however, is probably best known for being the most western location of the Jack the Ripper murders. On 30 September 1888 the unfortunate Catherine Eddowes died a grisly death in the early hours of the morning in Mitre Square, right on the City of London’s doorstep.

Mitre Square

Mitre Square roughly around the time of Eddowes’ death in 1888

But dark criminality is not new to this area – its grim pedigree extends back to the Middle Ages. Peter Ackroyd in his biography Chaucer points out that Aldgate’s very own poet-in-residence, Geoffrey Chaucer, lost his maternal grandfather there when he ‘was murdered in 1313 close to his house in Aldgate. The city records reveal that murder, abduction and rape were commonplace…’ (p. 2). In fact, a manuscript known as the Aldgate Cartulary gives further evidence of the dastardly nature of Aldgate (although admittedly it was probably no more or less terrible than other areas in London at the time). Compiled by Brother Thomas de Axbridge between 1425 and 1427, this document details the business of the Holy Trinity Priory in Aldgate, spanning a huge timescale. At the end, Thomas explains that one of the reasons he made the cartulary was in order to facilitate the collection of rents, for, he says, ‘the world has progressed to such evil and contradicts ancient facts unless copies of charters are everywhere produced in evidence’. It was to be hoped that such written evidence would settle any disputes over payment of rents.

Aldgate Cartulary

Aldgate Cartulary, compiled between 1425-27

Chaucer himself lived in apartments above Aldgate from 1374 to 1386 whilst he was a customs official. In 1381 a raging horde entered the city through Aldgate during the Peasants’ Revolt. If he was home that day, Chaucer would have witnessed the mob forcing its way through the gates. Although Aldgate was a neighbourhood with a very real potential for danger, living as he did with this front-row seat onto the full spectrum of life passing in and out of a busy urban chaos must have given Chaucer plenty of food for thought, perhaps even colouring his writing to some extent. Potentially the most tangible evidence of Chaucer’s experience of East Londoners might be in the Canterbury Tales – the prioress, Madam Eglantine, learned her French with a cockney accent: “And Frenssh she spak ful faire and fetisly, after the scole of Stratford atte Bowe.” Chaucer came from a family of London vintners (albeit originally from Ipswich – they migrated long before Chaucer himself was born), and in his book Ackroyd emphasises Chaucer’s connections with London; the first chapter even being entitled ‘The Londoner’.

Modern Aldgate

Modern Aldgate

If Chaucer was to return today to the area in Aldgate in which he once lived he would find very little there to recognise. The gateway itself was rebuilt between 1108–47, and then again in 1215, which is presumably the incarnation Chaucer would have been familiar with, but it was reconstructed again before finally being removed in 1761. There was an affluent priory nearby – Holy Trinity Aldgate – the priory to which our aforementioned Thomas belonged. It was founded by Matilda, wife of Henry I, in 1108. However nothing remains of it today but a small section which can be seen through a window in a nearby office block.

St Botolphs

St Botolphs… then.

St Botolphs

St Botolphs… now.

One landmark from Chaucer’s time that still remains, albeit in a drastically altered form, is St Botolph’s Church. There has been a church on the site of the current building for over 1,000 years. The original Anglo-Saxon building was enlarged in 1418 and rebuilt almost entirely in the 1500s. The later building was then demolished in the eighteenth-century and rebuilt (above). As a point of interest, another famous writer, Daniel Defoe, was married in the church in 1683.

St Botolph’s church is aptly named – Botolph is the patron saint of travellers. Consequently four City of London churches were dedicated to him, all of which were close to gates in the City walls. These dedications were probably made because the churches provided places for incoming travellers to give thanks for their safe arrival and for outgoing travellers to pray for a safe journey.

'paleys upon pilars’

‘paleys upon pilars’

For the Olympics in 2012 Aldgate looked back to its medieval past and its most famous historical resident with the erection of the ‘paleys upon pilars’ (palace on pillars), supposedly inspired by Chaucer’s dream vision poems, the Parliament of Foules, Book of the Duchess, and House of Fame. Its construction by the Worshipful Company of Chartered Architects during the London Festival of Architecture marked the start of High Street 2012, the direct route from the City of London to the Olympic Park at Stratford –which might even be the same Stratford in which his prioress learned her ‘Frenssh’. In the image (above) you can see the new St Botolph’s church in the background. A mingling of the medieval and modern worlds, fitting for the man who has had such an extraordinary influence on both.

‘paleys upon pilars’

‘paleys upon pilars’

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Filed under Chaucer, London, Medieval buildings