Oxford, pt 2: tale of the tacky umbrella and the ancient tower

I took a break during the symposium, remembering that during my three weeks' stay several years ago, I had failed to visit St Michael at North Gate-- the city church of Oxford.  It just so happened to be down Ship Street from the dorm I stayed in, so I ducked out before a keynote on Byzantine chronicles and headed...

...into the pouring rain. Not your usual drizzle. No, this was torrential.

Dashing back inside, I was totally annoyed with myself-- who goes to England without an umbrella?! The desk worker lent me hers in order to buy one for myself (an offer that confused me, but whatever). With my over-priced, super tacky purchase, I headed back out.

This is not a joke.

Third time's the charm, right? Who cares if I'm one of those tourists? *shudder*

I made it to the church and was greeted quite kindly by the man in the gift shop (where one enters, somewhat strangely). He was patient and made me feel welcome, dispelling my fears of being rushed like the annoying tourist my umbrella claimed me to be. The adjoining tower is the oldest building in Oxford and dates back to around 1050. According to the church's website,

smng.org

"All other traces of the original church have vanished, but a church there certainly was. The Domesday Book (1086) records that ‘the priests of St Michael hold two houses worth 52d’. After the tower, the earliest surviving parts of the church are the chancel, the eastern part of the south aisle (nearest the altar), and the south door, all dating from the 13th century."

smng.org

 I found the church to be small, beautiful, and mostly under restoration. I wondered what the congregation is like-- are they all academics? Is any of them an academic? I saw some evidence of a children's Bible study and tried to imagine what it would be like to grow up in this particular church. Would its history make me feel isolated or connected? Would I feel overwhelmed by its heritage? Or would it not really matter at all?

When I came back out of the church, the same man directed me to the tower, whose student entrance price is less than two pounds. He showed me a 20 pence piece he gave me in change, explaining that it would activate an "ancient clock mechanism" in the tower, which I recorded:
I regrettably did not film what's going on below these gears: a series of weights moves up and down in a process which my engineer husband would explain quite logically, but which I must only describe as something kind of like magic. Moving farther up the "Saxon Tower" I passed the bells which, according to the website, are so heavy that ringing them would damage the structural integrity of the building.

And massive they were!

Chimed, not rung.

Anyone who follows me on Twitter (and all of you should--@RebeccaShores) will recognize this, but it seemed worth including.

To my total surprise, the top of the tower is open to the public. I opened the door to the roof, careful to read the sign reminding visitors to close the door in order to keep out pigeons, and found myself in the pouring rain  again.  And then, the conundrum: do I bring that blasted umbrella?  No. I'm on top of a tower in the rain; that's a terrible idea. And yet, the lightening rod is so much higher-- it would take a true fluke to attract electricity to myself from an actual lightning rod, right? Ultimately I chose not to push my luck, and had a lovely, if rather wet, panoramic view of the town.
Descending the stairs, I looked again at the bells, at the clock mechanism, at the door that imprisoned Archbishop Cranmer. (NB: Wesley's pulpit is also here, for any of you Methodists!) How lucky I was to have seen this on a glorified lunch break, how fortunate to have been in Oxford at all. I wondered how often I might come here if I'd attended Oxford for graduate school-- would I have taken full advantage of what the town had to offer? I hadn't the last time I was here.

I walked back out into the rain, having done what I should have years ago, hoping to have another opportunity to return.

Until next time, readers, wishing everyone dry clothes and a second chance.

A weekend in England

What a trip! I arrived at Heathrow on the morning of the 5th, making the bus just in time to drop my things at Jesus College

Room with a View

and sit down for the first panel of Oxford and Cambridge International Chronicles Symposium (OCICS).  I was only there for two nights, but the trip was well worth the travel.

About eighty scholars had gathered to share interdisciplinary, and just as importantly, global perspectives on Medieval and Renaissance chronicles. I attended first "Shaping the Past in Twelfth-Century Chronicles" and heard papers on a Danish ruler of England being depicted as a humble pilgrim instead of powerful (and foreign) king, images in John of Worcester's Chronicle creating "a new scientific history while upholding older monastic conventions," and William of Malmesbury's interventions in his sources as attempts to "restore the English and their conquerors."

Henry I's dream, John of Worcester (wikipedia commons)

All three presenters ended up speaking about the transmission and transmutations of their texts and the texts' sources. They all seemed to create matrices of comparison: one author changed this to that for reason a; another changed that to this for reason b, etc. They were all quite interesting but almost laden with evidentiary data, and I began to wonder how much time the authors might have saved if they had a program to help them count and track the changes they discussed. It seems like my map project really will have other applications! 

And yet, I was shocked to see no digital projects. I saw pie graphs and flow charts from historians and literary scholars alike, but none questioned the methodology of counting the words, themes, or images they were tracking. When I shared my surprise to this during breaks, the general consensus was that this was a symposium on chronicles, not digital humanities; there are separate conferences for that. 

Oy.

At this point in my post I should explain what chronicles are; this is, after all, a blog for all readers. But if I learned anything from this conference, it's that chronicles are much harder to define than I expected. Basically, they are early histories. They can be arranged thematically, around the church for example, or chronologically, like most annals. 

But history, to medievals at least, was a much broader field than it is now. 

Presentations on Matthew of Paris, a manuscript belonging to the Norwich prior Simon Bozoun, and instructors to the illustrator of Lambeth Palace Library MS 6 showed just how rich the medieval understanding of history is. Matthew Paris collected, collated, and created genealogical trees, astrological tables, computational calendars, natural science treatises, and even drew an elephant from life:

"Drawn from life" is a very, very rare notation in the Middle Ages (Parker Library)

According to Judith Collard, the images and texts of Matthew of Paris have been studied too often as distinct from one another and without the context he provided them. She convincingly argued that more scholars, like Matthew himself, especially look to the science in his manuscripts as incorporations to, not exceptions in, his works.

Sam Rostad, now a history PhD student at Notre Dame, had a great opportunity when his supervisor at Cambridge recommended he look into a manuscript belonging to the prior of 14th century Norwich. This particular book begins with Higden's Polychronicon-- a history of everything. 

From one version of Higden's Polychronicon (British Library)

The eight works that follow range from historical prefaces to Marco Polo's travels, from History of the East to a commentary on St Augustine.  Yet at closer inspection, this textual gathering is not a miscellany. Bringing together global and regional histories with travel narratives and commentary dedicated more to ancient cultures than to navigation or theology, Bozoun really created a historiography. 

Just as the first panel had mined specific, textual differences among chronicles and their sources, this one examined larger, thematic similarities among different genres of history. Fascinating, no?

This is perhaps a longer, or at least denser, post than usual, so I'll cut it here. Stay tuned for my adventures in an 11th-c church and an update on Peterborough Chronicle scholarship!

Until soon, wishing everyone a week free from jet-lag.

New things

Hi, readers! Thanks for coming back after all this time.
This is really more a teaser post than a real one; in the next weeks I'll be writing about my trip to Oxford, our new hardwoods, and the doggie pool (among other fascinating topics). In the meantime, here are some fun photos.
Until soon, friends!