Pre-Kalamazoo Work Frenzy

Things here at the Chancery Hill homestead look a bit like they've been stirred with a stick, as an old family saying has it (an alternative is to say the whole place "looks like a Hoo-ra's nest," although what sort of mythical beast a Hoo-ra might be has never been clear. But their nests are always a mess).

Large vellum binding fragment, about 13" tall. 

Anyway, I've been trying to gear up for the annual Medieval Congress in Kalamazoo, where I am giving a paper and also setting up a booth to try to sell--or at least show off--some of the weird and wonderful things I've managed to acquire over the past year or so.

This has meant digging through the things I've bought, writing descriptions, and putting prices on them.

Every year, I fear I won't be able to replace the material I sell with equally interesting stuff. And it's certainly true that each year, I bring very different kinds of things: apparently, I don't so much have a typical range of stock as I have a penchant for moving into new areas.

But I always have room in my stock for interesting examples of medieval manuscript fragments that have been recycled in old bindings.

The example I'm showing in today's blog post is a large and handsome one, probably from France and probably from around the year 1400 or so. The shape of the folds and cuts make it certain this leaf was used in a later binding. The exceptionally large margins are notable, as is the folio number at the top (dxxvi) suggesting that this once came from a truly massive book.

Originally, the alternating initials here were in gold and blue, though much of the gold has now been lost: but it was an impressive book, too, in its use of gold. 

It appears to have been recycled as the wrapper for a document or book in 1612; that date appears in the lower margin of the verso, inverted--meaning the visible text on this fragment was upside down in relation to the newly-made book it was used upon.

All of this is only part of what makes this fragment interesting, though. As this second image shows, this leaf is accompanied by a thin plywood panel cut to match the shape of the leaf quite precisely. Indeed, pinholes (or something of the sort) pierce both leaf and panel at the corners, so it's clear this wood panel was made so the leaf could be hung upon the wall. While many another leaf, including binding fragments, has been framed behind glass, this one was not given quite such a formal presentation.

Remarkably the side edges of the plywood board have been painted white. Even more amazingly, traces of white paint can be seen on the edges of the leaf, for all the world not looking like later, dry offsetting, but looking rather as if the paint was applied while the leaf was on the board. 

And this is the marvelous conundrum of binding fragments: in 1612, when this leaf was recycled, and in the 20th century, when attached to this board, the original leaf was both seen as useful and valuable and as (comparatively) worthless and unimportant. Too good to throw away, but certainly not worth taking good care of.

I find the ways this contradictory impulse gets expressed in different centuries to be fascinating, and of course it remains in effect in some areas in our own time. 

Anyway, for those of your who are coming to Kalamazoo, please drop by and visit me in the Exhibits Hall. I would love to show off some of my interesting and oddball items to you, and if you have no intention of purchasing anything, that's no problem at all: anything that doesn't sell, I get to hold on to for a while. 

The verso of the leaf and the back of the board showing
the hanger and the white paint.