Manuscripts

The Lambeth Bible was produced, almost certainly, at Canterbury. Here, although we do not know his name, it appears that the artist was a layman and that he moved about in the world. The similarities to the Sicilian mosaics are so close that he may well have seen them with his own eyes. Further, there is strong reason to suppose that the same artist illuminated a book for Wedric, Abbot of Liessies in what is now France. Unfortunately this book was a victim of the Second World War, having been destroyed at Metz, but two remarkable detached leaves survive in the possession of the Societe Archeologique in Avesnes.
Figure 5 reproduces a page from one of these leaves in which St John is seen writing his Gospel, inspired by the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove which, held by the hand of God, whispers in his ear. Very touch-ingly, Wedric holds the inkhorn into which the saint dips his pen.
The greatest English Bible of the twelfth century (some say the greatest of all twelfth-century manuscripts) is the Winchester Bible, still in the Cathedral Library. Walter Oakeshott has distinguished the hands of six artists who worked on this supreme book over tens of years. In some cases one man drew an illumination while another painted it. It is interesting to observe the monastic tradition preserving features from previous ages. The interlacing strapwork derives from Hiberno-Saxon manuscripts, while the struggle with the lion not only reflects Byzantine art but harks back to classical images of Hercules.
The long production of the Winchester Bible probably extended into the early years of the thirteenth century, and even then it was never finished. This very passage of time enables us to watch, in the later miniatures, the emergence of a new spirit: the age of stern Romanesque austerity changing into the age of Gothic grace.
The Winchester Bible was probably produced to the order of Henry of Blois (1129—71, a splendid character and a munificent patron), Bishop of Winchester and brother of King Stephen. He made several visits to Rome, and was familiar with Mediterranean and, perhaps, Sicilian art; and it was he who commissioned the Winchester Psalter. Most of the Psalter's illuminations are distinctly English, but two ) are strongly Byzantine.  This manuscript, too, was rescued by Sir Robert Cotton and passed to the British Museum.
During the same period great Bibles were also produced on the Continent. One of these, in two volumes (Harley MSS 2798-99), came from the Premonstratensian Abbey of Arnstein near Coblentz on the Rhine. frying-pan, may the falling sickness and fevers draw near him, may he be hung up and twisted around. Amen.') This curse did not achieve its purpose, for the manuscript had already left the monastery when it was purchased by Robert Harley in 1721. This is the more to be regretted, for the curse might otherwise be used against those who, in our own day, have turned the stealing of books from national, and other, collections into a modus vivendi.
    The monastic scriptoria of Bury, Canterbury and Winchester produced splendid Bibles and liturgical manuscripts over several centuries, but the most interesting scriptorium during the first half of the thirteenth century, St Albans, is famous for its chronicles and historians.
    The historiographers wrote the St Albans Chronicle, commencing with the Creation of the World. This ambitious history was continually up-dated by the addition of events as they occurred. In the first half of the thirteenth century St Albans produced two historians who are of the greatest importance for our knowledge of medieval history, Roger of Wendover (d. 1236), who wrote Flores Historiamm, and    Matthew Paris. Matthew Paris (c. 1200-59) entered the monastery at the age of seventeen. In his youth he assisted Roger of Wendover and, on the latter's death, took over the duties of historiographer and head of the scriptorium. By this time there must have been an outstanding historical library at St Albans - but Matthew Paris did not confine himself to documents. He took every opportunity to talk to men of affairs, to mingle with courtiers and talk with the king when, from time to time, he stayed at St Albans, and to gather information at first hand. Nor was he confined to the cloister; he travelled in England and observed and wrote of historical events. His vivid observations on court life include an entertaining account of an elephant that some potentate had presented to the king. In our own day we see politicians attempting to ingratiate themselves with television interviewers, and it is amusing to note that Henry in and his court were much the same. When, for example, the Holy Blood was to be translated from St Paul's to Westminster — and carried by the king - Matthew Paris was invited to watch the ceremony from the steps of the throne. It is much to his credit that he maintained an independent position and, when he felt it necessary, never hesitated to criticize the king.
    Matthew Paris was an active head of the scriptorium. He wrote and illustrated books with his own hand and produced volumes of maps. We may with confidence credit Matthew Paris with the beautiful signed drawing in which he depicts himself at the feet of the Virgin . Having rounded off his Chronica Majora at the year 1250, Paris intended to retire and take life more easily. However, his enthusiasm apparently proved too strong, for he made the last entry in his own hand shortly before his death. At the end of the chronicle there is a drawing, by a disciple, of the old chronicler on his deathbed. He rests his head on his arm, which lies upon an open manuscript, 'Liber Cronicorum Mathei Parisiensis'. Above is the inscription: 'Hie obit Matheus Parisiensis'. One English thirteenth-century illuminator who has emerged from the

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