OK, folks, brace yourselves because here comes the ultimate #BreakfastPaleography thread, in which I will follow the development of the wonderful, magical, mysterious and apparently very flexible letter [g] over the course of more than 2,000 years!
We’ll start in Rome, then jump up to the British Isles before heading back to the Continent. Buckle up, ‘cause here we go!
First up, majuscule [G]. This is the boring part of the story. Ancient Latin epigraphic and numismatic inscriptions form capital [G] in just about the same way we still do. Here’s one from 1st-c. Pompei. There, that was easy! db.edcs.eu/epigr/bilder.p…
Ah, but minuscule (lower case) [g]? That’s a really interesting tale indeed. Some of the earliest examples of lower-case lettering in the Latin alphabet are written in New Roman Cursive, starting in the 3rd c. Here's @BeineckeLibrary P.CtYBR inv. 2125 (Ravenna, 613-641 CE)
Here we see a few different [g]s, but generally it’s an open hook. In ligature, as here, a second stroke makes a crossbar at the top; this will lead us directly to the insular flat-topped [g] in a few centuries.
Speaking of flat-topped [g], let’s head up to Northumbria and Ireland, where things were still hopping in the centuries after the withdrawal of the Romans from Britain. Majuscule [G] shows up in uncial manuscripts like the extraordinary 7th-c. Codex Amiatinus (note the descender)
Manuscripts written in Insular minuscule use the flat-topped [g] that will continue to be closely associated with insular scripts, especially in the vernacular (here's St. Gall MS 51, from Ireland: e-codices.unifr.ch/en/csg/0051/8).
Meanwhile, over on the continent, minuscule forms develop into Merovingian, Visigothic, and other pre-Caroline scripts. TBH, it’s a crazypants free-for-all over there. Look at these [g]s! When they’re ligated, things get even more interesting. (l-r: Luxeuil, Corbie, poss. Laon)
OK, settle down, everyone. Here comes the standardization of minuscule script during the reign of Charlemagne (hence “Caroline” script). Looks familiar, right? There’s a direct line from 9th-c. Caroline letterforms to the typeface Twitter uses!
As Caroline slowly morphs into Romanesque in the 11th-c. (or “proto-Gothic” if you prefer), [g] becomes a bit more structured, sometimes with two closed bows, and sometimes with an open lower bowl. Here’s Gottschalk of Lambach, in the late 12th c.
In the early 13th-c., a major aesthetic shift happens in script, just as in architecture. The round vs. angular contrast shows up in script as well. Here’s a Gothic quadrata from 15th-c. France and a bâtarde from the same place and time:
Meanwhile, down south in Italy, dudes like Petrarch and Boccaccio resurrect Caroline models in their own 14th-c. scripts, bringing us back to that rounded, two-compartment [g] that looks an awful lot like the one in this very font!
And that’s the story of the gorgeous, gregarious, glamourous letter [g]. Drop your favorite in the comments! Come back next week and we’ll do [&]!
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I know we're all obsessed with the stream of discoveries about #receptiogate, the revolving-door website updates, & Rossi's doubling-down claims of innocence that are easily disproven, but I also want to talk about her #fragmentoogy work, which is troubling in several respects...
As many of you know, I have been working closely with @FragmentariumMS and many other scholars for decades to develop best-practices for cataloguing, data-modeling, and digital reconstructions of dismembered manuscripts, i.e. #fragmentology
To her credit, Rossi is doing that too, working to recontruct recently-dismembered Books of Hours, transcribing them to allow for deep analysis of the recovered liturgy. This is a very worthy goal, & the transcriptions, while not always correct, are useful. So that’s great! But…
One of the astonishing parts about this update is that Rossi admits to "colourising" b/w photos! Plaigerism aside, & whether the "colourising" really happened in this case or not, the idea of taking a b/w photo and quietly colorizing it is incredibly misleading!
Tacitly editing images of fragments seems to be her MO: adding borders where there are none, cropping for consistency of size, inserting a mis=matched binding, adding fake flyleaves, colorizing b/w images. How can readers trust such a deceptive author?
I've never encountered anything quite like it in the digital realm. It is analogous to the tacit "restoration" work 19th-century forgers practised on illuminated mss, like the one I describe here (a forgery Peter identified!): manuscriptroadtrip.wordpress.com/2019/08/28/man…
Look, people, it's not that hard. The rules of #Fragmentology are simple and finite. 1) If you are going to piece a dismembered manuscript back together online, do it with intellectual honesty.
2) If there's are missing leaves, show us where it is by indicating lacunae, as in this screenshot of my own work on the Beauvais Missal:
3) If there's no binding, don't photoshop the reconstruction into one. Digital reconstructions aren't about "fixing" physical imperfections by adding elements to make it look pretty.
Spending the afternoon @BeineckeLibrary photographing Wilfrid #Voynich 's scrapbook of press clippings heralding the "news" of the manuscript's decoding and attribution to Roger Bacon, and found this marvelous bit of editorial snark from the Providence Tribune, April 22, 1921:
Am now looking for an excuse to use the expression "I don't give two whoops in a rain barrel!"
Here's another good one, from the New York Evening Post, May 3, 1921. Apparently it is bad form to snort with laughter in the Beinecke Library reading room.
OK, people, you worked hard to get me to 10K followers, so here is your reward! An epic 62-Tweet thread about the #Voynich manuscript coming your way, starting NOW!
1. First things first. The #Voynich manuscript (VMS from now on) is a real object. Please always keep that in mind! It is a medieval manuscript (more on that in a minute) that belongs to the @BeineckeLibrary at Yale University, where it has been MS 408 since it was given in 1969.
2. I have seen it on multiple occasions and can confirm this. It is not imaginary. It is not fake. It is not a gift from aliens. But what IS it?
Remember a few weeks ago when I gave a lecture @imc_leeds about my reconstruction of the Beauvais Missal & announced that leaf no. 113 had landed in my inbox the day before? Now that I’m caught up on other things, I can work on placing it in the reconstruction. Here’s how…
Step 1: identify recto & verso. Generally a straightforward task…look for the binding holes (i.e. the gutter), which, in a manuscript that reads left -> right will be on the left of the recto side. In this case, the leaf is heavily trimmed on all sides, so no binding holes!
No binding holes, no problem. Just look at the text, and figure out which side continues the text from the other. In this case, though, the leaf is framed and only one side is visible! How to tell recto from verso, then? Is it impossible? Certainly not!