tempestsarekind: (marlowe--he fights crime)
I'm being slightly snarky about the unnecessarily breathless, Wikileaks-style headline of this piece:

Spy report that criticised Marlowe for 'gay Christ' claim is revealed online

But the actual fact that you can now view the Baines note online, along with many other resources on the British Library's Discovering Literature website, is rather lovely, actually.

(Also, one of the other things mentioned in the article is Derek Jarman's notebooks for his film of Edward II.)
tempestsarekind: (ophelia has so few options)
I feel like I know some people who would be interested in this, if they haven't already seen it:

Sisters doing it for themselves: radical motets from a 16th-century nunnery

The author of the article, Laurie Stras - who conducted a recording of the motets, just out - argues that the motets were written by Leonora d'Este, daughter of Lucrezia Borgia. There are also Soundcloud links to recordings of some of the pieces in the article, which is nice!


Dec. 10th, 2016 06:45 pm
tempestsarekind: (i am my father's daughter [elizabeth])
V&A acquires earliest picture of Henry VIII's lost palace of Nonsuch

The palace itself was sold by Henry’s daughter Mary, then came back into royal ownership when her sister Elizabeth acquired it to settle a debt. It became one of her favourite residences, and Thomas Tallis’s heart-stopping composition Spem in Alium, a motet for 40 voices, is said to have been first performed to mark her 40th birthday by choirs singing from the towers.

The diarist Samuel Pepys saw Nonsuch in 1665, and wrote that “all the house on the outside is covered with figures of story … and most of the house is covered with lead and gilded”. Within a few years it was rubble: Charles II gave the building to his lover Barbara Castlemaine who pulled it down and sold off anything worth salvaging.
tempestsarekind: (corset pout)
My favorite parts of Pepys' journal are when he gossips about other people's marriages; they're so immediate, in a way that brings to life some of the abstractions of conduct books and sermons, or the oversized figures of ballads. Just a short mention in one of the most recent entries on the Pepys feed:

...Becky Allen is married against all expectation a fellow that proves to be a coxcomb and worth little if any thing at all, and yet are entered into a way of living above their condition that will ruin them presently, for which, for the lady’s sake, I am much troubled.

He also mentioned her just the day before (which may be why he was gossiping about her the next day with someone else):

With Sir J. Minnes to church, where an indifferent good sermon. Here I saw Mrs. Becky Allen, who hath been married, and is this day churched, after her bearing a child. She is grown tall, but looks very white and thin, and I can find no occasion while I am here to come to have her company, which I desire and expected in my coming, but only coming out of the church I kissed her and her sister and mother-in-law.
tempestsarekind: (brighter than sunflowers)
A tour of the internet a couple of days ago brought me a portrait I'd never seen before:
under the cut )

I've been thinking about it ever since, as I find the image quite arresting (among other things, I love the set of her chin), but since I saw it on a website with nearly no attribution (*shakes fist at Tumblr*), all I know about it is that it is by a "Netherlandish artist" circa 1540. And reverse image search only pulls up a tiny handful of Tumblr and Pinterest links with no further information; they probably saw the image on the same Tumblr site I did (history-of-fashion). I assume that the artist is unknown, as is the subject, but even if I could just figure out where the portrait is currently located, that might give me leads for finding out whether any art historians have written about the painting, whether it's included in any museum catalogues or books on Dutch painting, that sort of thing.

Hmph. I might spend some time flipping through art books next week, if I can make it to the fine arts library.

Also, I am not sure what sort of fruit she's holding. An apricot?

…uh, Sam?

Jun. 7th, 2016 12:28 am
tempestsarekind: (your strange behavior puzzles martha)
So I've been watching the Pepys diary feed a little more closely lately because Pepys is basically wracked with jealousy that his wife might be having an affair with the dancing master who has been coming to their house. (His reasoning is basically, "well, I would, with a woman, so how can I believe that she wouldn't?" The thing is, he knows that this is terrible reasoning; he just can't stop doing it.)

But that context is not entirely helping me figure out exactly what he's thinking here:

Up betimes, and my wife and Ashwell and I whiled away the morning up and down while they got themselves ready, and I did so watch to see my wife put on drawers, which poor soul she did, and yet I could not get off my suspicions, she having a mind to go into Fenchurch Street before she went out for good and all with me, which I must needs construe to be to meet Pembleton, when she afterwards told me it was to buy a fan that she had not a mind that I should know of, and I believe it is so.


I feel like I've missed something. Is he thinking that if she doesn't put on drawers, she is preparing for illicit sexytimes? But I thought that it was wearing underwear in this period that was scandalous? So puzzled!

oh, Pepys

May. 4th, 2016 10:53 pm
tempestsarekind: (facepalm)
This whole entry, man (various emphases mine):

So made myself ready and to church, where Sir W. Pen showed me the young lady which young Dawes, that sits in the new corner-pew in the church, hath stole away from Sir Andrew Rickard, her guardian, worth 1000l. per annum present, good land, and some money, and a very well-bred and handsome lady: he, I doubt, but a simple fellow. However, he got this good luck to get her, which methinks I could envy him with all my heart. Home to dinner with my wife, who not being very well did not dress herself but staid at home all day, and so I to church in the afternoon and so home again, and up to teach Ashwell the grounds of time and other things on the tryangle, and made her take out a Psalm very well, she having a good ear and hand. And so a while to my office, and then home to supper and prayers, to bed, my wife and I having a little falling out because I would not leave my discourse below with her and Ashwell to go up and talk with her alone upon something she has to say. She reproached me but I had rather talk with any body than her, by which I find I think she is jealous of my freedom with Ashwell, which I must avoid giving occasion of.


…well yeah Samuel, who wouldn't be jealous when you're eying up ladies at church and teaching girls how to play the triangle (by which he apparently means the virginals, according to the note*) instead of spending time with your wife? You goober.

Trust Pepys to always give you the hard-nosed pecuniary details about a potential match, though.

*The Shakespearean in me is very "wink wink nudge nudge" about this detail. Saucy jacks, still virginalling upon his palm, etc.
tempestsarekind: (viola reading (tears))
From The Toast:

"Weepeth and sorroweth without comparison": Historical Fertility Problems
tempestsarekind: (where comedy meets romance)
Well, someone clearly needs to write this novel. Or make a film:

'Royal' 17th century dress found under sand off the coast of Texel

(link via Twitter)
tempestsarekind: (rory died and turned into a roman)
An Oxford study into "everyday life and fatal hazard" during the Tudor period, using coroners' reports:



At 3 o’clock in the afternoon of 11 March 1550, John Rusey, a labourer, was walking down the road at Chieveley in Berkshire. He stumbled on a ‘carte rote’ [cart rut] and fell over, and the knife hanging at his belt stabbed him in the stomach to a depth of 2 inches. He was found, dead on the road, by a neighbour on the way home from market.

And here's the study's website as well:

I find the composition of the "discovery of the month" from September 2015 to be rather charming:

September 2015. Inquest reports give fascinating glimpses of sixteenth-century language because the clerks often noted down English expressions the jurors had used in the middle of their Latin reports. It is reassuring to know that they were as casual as we are about hanging prepositions: Isada Deller, drowned fetching water from the Thames near Kingston-upon-Thames in February 1564, had ‘twoo payles to carye water w[ith]’. Sometimes the reports show technical terms in use long before their first recorded appearance. John ap Owen was running through a cornfield at Church Stretton in Shropshire in July 1561. He stumbled on ‘a clod of yerth’ and fell on an ‘evyll’, a two-pronged wooden fork, which gave him a six-inch wound in the thigh from which he died three hours later. Evell or evil is first recorded in the Oxford English Dictionary from 1642, but the first known mention of a springle, a thin rod of wood used in thatching, dates to 1836. John Houson, labourer, was up a ladder roofing his house in Newcastle-under-Lyme in November 1563. He fell off and landed on a ‘spryngle’ which went five inches into his left side and killed him on the spot.

And here's a new word, in an unsavory context:

June 2014. Sixteenth-century sanitary arrangements could be not only unpleasant but deadly. George Dunkyn was a Cambridge baker who lived in St Mary’s parish outside the town’s Trumpington Gate. Between eight and nine on the evening of Tuesday 2 June 1523 he went into the back garden of his house to relieve himself into the cess pit in the corner. Unfortunately he was very drunk at the time and fell backwards off the wooden seat into the pit, where he was ‘qweasomed’, or suffocated, by the stench.
tempestsarekind: (martha at the globe)
Sixteenth-century Elizabethan England has always had a special place in the nation's understanding of itself. But few realise that it was also the first time that Muslims began openly living, working and practising their faith in England, writes Jerry Brotton.



Jan. 30th, 2016 08:09 pm
tempestsarekind: (elizabeth bennet is amused)
From the Pepys' Diary daily feed:

A solemn fast for the King’s murther, and we were forced to keep it more than we would have done, having forgot to take any victuals into the house.


People are people, even across the centuries.
tempestsarekind: (martha at the globe)
Black Soldiers in the English Civil War

(Actually contains information about eMod Black communities aside from the Civil War as well, plus some citations)
tempestsarekind: (martha at the globe)
Came across this today in following various links on the interwebs:

John Blanke, Henry VIII’s Black Trumpeter, Petitions for a Back Dated Pay Increase

tempestsarekind: (london flower of cities all)
link via Twitter:

Tower of London staff 'used magic to repel the forces of the Devil'


From the article:

Archaeologists, carrying out survey work in the residence of the Queen’s representative in the Tower, have found dozens of ‘ritual protection’ marks literally burnt into the timber uprights holding up the roof.

Historic Royal Palaces, which run the Tower of London, says that the discoveries are “hugely significant”. It is believed that the marks – 54 in total – were put on the timbers, mostly between the mid-16th and earlier 18th centuries, as a way of trying to magically protect the building from fire and lightning and to repel the forces of the Devil and the spells of witches.
tempestsarekind: (ladies in waiting [elizabeth])
Probably everyone who would be interested in this has seen it already, but I am behind on this week's Tudor news:

Music from Anne Boleyn's songbook performed for first time in 500 years

I confess to being a shallow sort, and spending most of the short video thinking about how beautiful the Sam Wanamaker Playhouse (where the choir performed) looks.
tempestsarekind: (corset pout)
From Pepys' diary:

I went away […] to my Lord’s lodgings, where my brother Tom and Dr. Thomas Pepys were to speak with me. So I walked with them in the garden, and was very angry with them both for their going out of town without my knowledge; but they told me the business, which was to see a gentlewoman for a wife for Tom, of Mr. Cooke’s providing, worth 500l., of good education, her name Hobell, and lives near Banbury, demands 40l. per annum joynter. Tom likes her, and, they say, had a very good reception, and that Cooke hath been very serviceable therein, and that she is committed to old Mr. Young, of the Wardrobe’s, tuition.

Good lord, for alliance!


tempestsarekind: (Default)

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