Order of the Golden Fleece

We continue to build our collection of vernacular secular manuscripts with our latest acquisition, The Statutes of the Order of the Golden Fleece. It was most likely produced in 1531 at the request of Charles V to be distributed to all of the knights of the Order. This copy is utilitarian in that it was meant to be used, but also had enough decorative flourish to make it a treasured object.

At first, it seems the manuscript is an anachronism: 80 years after the invention of moveable type, it is still entirely done by hand. But printing in the early hand-press era demanded scale to make it profitable. If you only needed 50 copies (and the Order of the Golden Fleece was limited to 50 members) then it would have been cheaper to produce manuscript copies than set the type and print them. Generally speaking, printing only pays for itself after about 200 copies, but then it can become quite profitable. Still, members of the Order would have expected something more dignified than print, and this manuscript fits the bill.

The description of the manuscript from Les Enluminures included this account of the Order and the manuscript in hand:

The most renowned of all chivalric orders, the Order of the Golden Fleece was founded in 1430 by Phillip the Good, duke of Burgundy (1396-1467) "out of respect for God and for the advancement of the Christian Faith." It was instituted as a Burgundian alternative to the influential Order of the Garter, founded in 1348 by Edward III, and designed to strengthen the allegiance of Phillip's vassals and friendly foreign states to his realm.

The Order of the Golden Fleece, whose first chapter was held in 1431, came to be considered the highest order of knighthood. It originally included twenty-four knights; the 1431 statutes fixed the number admitted to 31 (later increased to 51 by Charles V in 1516, and then to sixty-two by Philip IV) and four officers (Chancellor, Treasurer, King of Arms, and Greffier). Upon being inducted as a member, each knight received, in addition to the famous collar from which a gold enameled pendant of the Golden Fleece was suspended, a copy of the Statutes—also referred to as a "quayer de l’ordre"—most often in manuscript form and copied on vellum. The official language of the Order, and therefore of the manuscripts, was the langue bourguignonne, but from the sixteenth century some manuscripts were copied in Latin. Following the death of a knight, the copy of the Statutes and the collar were supposed to be returned to the Archives of the Order, but this rule was not rigorously respected and numerous copies of the Statutes remained in circulation.

This manuscript is a copy of the Statutes enacted in 1531 after the chapter held in Tournai; it includes the thirteen additions made to the statutes up to that year. The manuscript was certainly copied before 1545, the year of the chapter held in Utrecht where a new draft of the Statutes was instituted with 68 articles rather than the traditional 66. During the chapter of 1531, complaints were voiced concerning the numerous copies of the Statutes in circulation whose content was both erroneous and incomplete. Hence the greffier Laurent de Blioul was ordered by Charles V (1500-1558) to have 50 new exemplars copied, some in French, others in Latin, complete with thirteen added articles, to be distributed to all the knights (Reiffenberg, 1830, p. 382-7, and de Lannoy, 2000, p. 38). Payment for sixteen copies was recorded in October, 1532 (Korteweg in Cockshaw and Van den Bergen-Pantens, 1966, p. 43, note 48). The present manuscript is probably one of these "revised" copies (Korteweg, in Cockshaw and Van den Bergen-Pantens, 1966, p. 43, note 50 lists nine additional copies in public collections). Presumably most of the existing knights already owned luxury illuminated copies of the text, which they would not want to discard, so they would have needed relatively plain, practical volumes (such as the present one), with an accurate text, rather than a new lavishly illuminated copy. 

You can see it by asking for  Codex MS 003234.

Say It With Flowers

Roses are the perennially favorite flower for sending as gifts.  But what are you really saying when you send someone a dozen roses?  According to Sarah Hale's Flora's Interpreter (Boston: Thomas H. Webb; Co., 1833) it depends on the type of rose and the shape of the flower.

A red rose bud signifies a wish that the receiver remain ever pure and lovely while a damask rose hints at a bashful love. However, beware sending a thornless rose which is associated with a feeling of ingratitude or the dark Chinese rose with its message that the sender has been forsaken. Worse yet, is the withered white rose of despair.

Hale lists numerous other flowers and ascribes a sentiment to each. She also provides a poem illustrating the associated sentiment, a literary extract mentioning the flower by name, the flower's scientific name and a brief description of it's characteristics and origin.

The language of flowers is thought to have evolved out of the eastern tradition, particularly that of Turkey, of associating certain objects with specific meanings. Lady Mary Montagu, who visited Turkey in the early eighteenth century, is credited with one of the earliest English accounts of this custom.  In the book Letters of the Right Honourable Lady M---Y W---y M----e (London: Homer and Milton, 1766), she details much of what she saw as typical Turkish life, including the language of objects. Interestingly enough, our copy, printed by "Homer and Milton," appears to be a pirated edition of the work and, according to the accompanying letter of provenance, may be the only existing copy of this particular printing.

Find out more about the language of flowers by asking for Rare Book GR 780 .H35 1833. Lady Mary's often scandalous accounts of Turkish life are found in Rare Book DA 501 .M7 L48.

Foolish Ida

Watercolor original

Maurice Sendak, the author of wildly funny and darkly tragic children's books, died this morning.  Sendak never shied away from the terrors of childhood even as he celebrated kids' slightly naughty side. Today we offer a highlight from our Morton E. Wise Collection of Maurice Sendak: the original artwork behind "Foolish Ida" of Sendak's Outside over There (New York: Harper and Row, 1981).

Pencil sketch

Progressing from the pencil sketch through the watercolor to the final published image, you can see Sendak manipulating Ida's expression, transforming it from one of sad determination to one of deep mourning. A fitting tribute for today.

Final published image

To see them, ask for Iconography 1610, 1611 and Illus S467out.

Derby Day

As Derby Day approaches, we thought it might be fun to travel back in time and across the pond to look at 19th-century engravings of the original race responsible for the creation of the Kentucky Derby and other similar races. The Epsom Derby was (and is) held annually at the Epsom Downs just outside of London, where it began in 1780. These particular images of the Epsom Derby were created by Gustave Doré, a prominent 19th-century French artist and engraver. He first came to prominence in England because of his captivating illustrations in a new English Bible, printed in 1866. The success of this work opened professional doors for Doré in London, and several years later he collaborated with Blanchard Jerrold on a work entitled London: A Pilgrimage (London: Grant & Co., 1873).

This large folio contains breathtaking engravings by Doré, who is the true star of the work despite Jerrold’s narration. In Chapter Seven, titled, "the Derby," Doré manages to demonstrate the mass of London humanity that turned out annually in May under the pretense of seeing the races, an event that often was more about letting off carnivalesque steam than focusing intently on the horses. However, as Doré shows us in the image of the fallen horse and rider, there was also an element of excitement, danger, and darkness within the races themselves that held a universal appeal.

In this book, Doré’s representations of darkness do not confine themselves to day-lit public games and races. London: A Pilgrimage was criticized by contemporaries for displaying numerous scenes of London’s dirty back-streets and darkened alleyways where the poor and destitute huddled in squalor, as exemplified by this night scene from the Whitechapel neighborhood. Hearkening back to Dickens, Doré and Jerrold unflinchingly display all of London’s social classes. Above all, one leaves London: A Pilgrimage with the unshakeable feeling of claustrophobia, of exciting noisy streets and of the jostling chaos of the crowds that swelled around pilgrims to England’s capital.

 To wander the teeming streets of 19th-century London for yourself, race over to Rauner and ask for Illus D73j.

Heathenish Customs

May Day has been celebrated as a springtime holiday for centuries, its origins stretching back to a Roman festival of the flower and fertility goddess Flora. In early modern England, the first of May was traditionally a holiday for laborers commemorated by revelry and dancing centered around a Maypole. The celebration of May Day was outlawed by Puritan authorities during the English interregnum, but after the Restoration in 1660, the festival commenced again in earnest.

The revival of May Day revels was much to the dismay of Thomas Hall, a pastor and the author of a pamphlet titled: Funebria Florae, The Downfall of May-Games: Wherein Is set forth the rudeness, prophaneness, stealing, drinking, fighting, dancing, whoring, mis-rule, mis-spence of precious time, contempt of God, and godly Magistrats, Ministers and People, which oppose the Rascality and rout, in this their open prophaneness, and Heathenish Customs.

The pamphlet's long-winded title speaks for itself.  The title begins in large type but finishes several sizes smaller -- apparently the compositor had difficulty in fitting all of Hall's abundant condemnations onto a single page.

A poem written from the perspective of the Maypole concludes Hall's criticisms:
...
Yea, Hobby-horse doth hither prance,
Maid-marrian, and the Morrice-dance.
My summons fetcheth far and near
All that can dance, and drab, and drink,
The run to mee as to a sink.
These, mee for their Commander take,
And I do them my black-guard make.
…
To reel and spue, to brawl and fight,
To scoff and rail with all their might:
I bid men cast off gravity,
And women eke their modesty:
Old crones that scarce have tooth or eye,
But crooked back, and lamed thigh
Must have a frisk, and shake their heel,
As if no stitch, nor ache they feel.
I bid the servant disobey,
The childe to say his parents nay.
The poorer sort that have no coin,
I can command them to purloin;
All this and more, I warrant good,
For 'tis to maintain neighbourhood.
…

Fielding on the Poor

Henry Fielding is best known for his picaresque novels Joseph Andrews and Tom Jones, but he also dabbled in the social issues his day. The title of this recently acquired treatise by Fielding, A Proposal for Making an Effectual Provision for the Poor, for Amending Their Morals, and for Rendering them Useful Members of Society (London: A. Millar, 1753), expresses his view of the poor fairly succinctly. They were morally lacking and not fit members of society. His proposal was little more than a debtor's prison that could accommodate 5,000 paupers and 600 petty criminals. There were cells and a whipping post as well as a chapel.

The proposed structure was never built, but served as a model for the rebuilding of Newgate Prison.  Ironically, our copy has been sumptuously rebound by Riviere and Son complete with gilt edges.

Ask for Rare HV61.F53 1753.

Phishing for Poets

Robert Frost received a lot of mail in his lifetime – we have more than 18 linear feet of it at Rauner – from his family, his friends, and often from complete strangers. One of the oddest letters in our Frost collection falls into this last category.

A man who signs his name "J." writes: "I am in jail sentenced for fraudulent bankruptcy, and I beg you to inform me, if you are willing to help me save the amount of $185,000.00 dls. in bank notes that I possess within a trunk in a Custom House in the United States."

If the letter is starting to sound fishy, that’s because it is. The writer goes on to request (in broken English, of course) that Frost reply to a third party in Mexico City, who will forward him details of how to obtain the “velice that contains a secret hiding” from customs and will ensure that he receives “as a compensation… one third of the said amount.”

Frost appears not to have taken the bait – we don’t have any record of a response to "J." Ask for MS-1178, Box 6, Folder 15 to see the letter for yourself.