The Beowulf Manuscript: A Right Shambles of a History
A Right Shambles of a History
Right then, buckle up, because we're diving into the frankly bonkers history of the Nowell Codex – better known as the Beowulf manuscript. It's a tale of forgotten lore, near-disasters, and some blokes with more money than sense. Let's get cracking, shall we?
The Nowell Codex: A Right Old Hodgepodge
So, the Nowell Codex (or Beowulf manuscript, if you're feeling mainstream) isn't just Beowulf. Oh no, that would be far too simple. Instead, it's a glorious mishmash of texts all shoved together in one big book. Think of it as a mediaeval lucky dip. Along with our hero Beowulf, we've got:
The Passion of St. Christopher: A saint's life, full of the usual martyrdom and miracles. Good for a Sunday read, perhaps.
The Wonders of the East: A fantastical travelogue, filled with all sorts of terrifying and bizarre creatures. Imagine a mediaeval version of Lonely Planet, but with more dragons.
The Letters of Alexander to Aristotle: A supposed correspondence between Alexander the Great and his tutor. Probably about tactics, philosophy, and the best way to conquer Persia, one assumes.
Judith: A poem about the biblical heroine who offed a Babylonian general. A proper "take no prisoners" kind of story.
Laurence Nowell: The Mysterious Man with the Manuscript
Our Codex gets its first name from Laurence Nowell, a 16th-century chap who, in 1563, wrote his name in it. This is literally all we know about his involvement. Did he buy it in a dusty bookshop? Did he inherit it from a long-lost relative? Was he a scholar meticulously studying its contents, or just a bloke who liked old books? Bugger all is known! The mystery surrounding Nowell only adds to the manuscript's allure.
Sir Robert Cotton: From Emperor Busts to Library Shelves
Later, the manuscript ended up in the hands of Sir Robert Cotton, a right obsessive collector of manuscripts. Cotton was a meticulous cataloguer. He had a system: he'd name his bookcases after Roman emperors. So, this particular manuscript was filed under "Vitellius A XV." Vitellius was the bust on top of the shelf, "A" meant it was on the first shelf down, and "XV" that it was the fifteenth book along. Simple, innit?
Fire in the Hole!
In 1702, the manuscript basically became Crown property after Cotton popped his clogs, but remained at Ashburnham House. Then, in 1731, disaster struck: a bloody great fire broke out! The manuscript was damaged, singed around the edges but thankfully, it was rescued.
From British Museum to British Library:
After its near-death experience, the charred codex was packed off to the British Museum, and eventually, to its current home in the British Library. Today, it’s carefully preserved. The Beowulf manuscript itself is only put on display sparingly. Because any form of light can cause damage to the vellum.
So there you have it. A tale of manuscripts, mad collectors, and a bloody great fire. The Nowell Codex has been through the wringer, and it's a testament to the power of preservation (and a bit of luck) that we can still read these incredible stories today.
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