Westminster Abbey and the case of the lonely seal bag

Filed under: Adventures in archives,Interesting Items,Other objects — Hollie Morgan at 12:21 pm on Monday, October 17, 2016

Our last archive trip was to Westminster Abbey, where we spent four weeks squirrelled away in the muniments room: a mysterious space built on top of the cloisters, overlooking Poets’ Corner and within earshot of everything happening in the church below. We began to tell the time by the hourly prayers and knew it was time to pack up when the organ warmed up before evensong. We were incredibly fortunate to be able to spend such a long time riffling through boxes of documents and imaging their seals. There were so many seals that were interesting because of their owners, colours, shapes or designs but my favourite has to be the seal attached to Westminster Abbey Muniments 2022, dated to the first half of the fourteenth century.

Seal of Westminster Abbey Muniments 2022

Seal of Westminster Abbey Muniments 2022 



There is something about using an image of the moment the written word is captured as a seal to  validate the written word that really appeals to me.






More on the Westminster Abbey seals will follow. For now, I’d like to tell you about how we reunited a seal with its long-lost seal bag. As you might remember from our blog post on the Exeter Book , when we are in the archives we like to stick our noses in help out as much as we can by using our Crime-lite Imager creatively to try to solve problems or explore documents, books and artefacts to find out more about them. Towards the end of our final week in Westminster, the Keeper of Muniments showed us a seal bag that, according to a pencilled note written by somebody in the 1980s, had been found at the bottom of a box of documents. The bag was made of woven material and is a sort of goldy-green colour and it is clear from looking at it that there was some sort of pattern embroidered into it, but age had faded it so that the pattern was no longer discipherable. Having had good results retrieving lost writing, we wondered what results we would get by placing the seal bag under the Crime-lite Imager. Tweaking the wavelength down towards the red end of the spectrum, we were able to bring out the pattern on the material.

A shot of the screen of the CLI as we retrieved the design

A shot of the screen of the CLI as we retrieved the design

It’s an eagle! Challenge completed. Feeling rather cocky, we attempted one stage further: using fluorescence mode to see if any trace of the wax was left behind. If I’m honest, I was optimistically hoping for a complete outline of the impression of the seal: a sort of Turin shroud-esque trace left on the cloth of the seal bag. Realistically, that was never going to happen. However, we did manage to pick out a roughly circular area of the material that fluoresced at a different wavelength to the rest of the bag and did not coincide with the pattern. We had found the shape and size of the seal that the bag once contained. Taking careful measurements and comparing them to each seal that the Keeper of Muniments brought out of the box in which the bag was found, we found the only seal that would fit: the (now heavily restored)  forged seal of Edward the Confessor.

Seal and seal bag reunited!

Seal and seal bag reunited!

We don’t know when the seal bag was made or if the material was originally intended to be used for a seal bag or had come from something else, such as vestments or an altar cloth. What we do now know is that at some point, somebody saw fit to use the eagle-patterned material to encase the “definitely real” seal of St. Edward. Perhaps it was the only nice piece of cloth of the right size or, perhaps, there was more thought behind it. One of the most famous legends associated with St. Edward tells us that he was riding on a pilgrimage to a chapel dedicated to St. John the Evangelist in Essex when a beggar asked him for alms. Edward had no money on him so gave him an expensive ring instead. A couple of years later two English pilgrims in the Holy Land were helped by a man wearing the ring who claimed to be John the Evangelist. He asked them to deliver the ring back to Edward and to tell him that he would meet him six months later in Heaven. We know that the eagle is often used in art to represent St. John. Could it be that whoever attached the seal bag wished to add weight to the authenticity by reminding the audience– those people living and working in Westminster Abbey who worshipped at the shrine of Edward the Confessor and knew his stories– of the special relationship between the two saints? That’s a mystery which may never be solved. We shall content ourselves with having solved the mystery of the lonely seal bag.


Hollie L. S. Morgan

Exciting Finds in the Exeter Book

Filed under: Adventures in archives,Other objects — Hollie Morgan at 3:19 pm on Friday, September 9, 2016  Tagged , , ,

If you follow us on Twitter, you will have noticed that when we are on our travels in different archives, we do our best to be as helpful (and, if we’re honest, as nosy) as we can. This means that as well as using our equipment to image seals and helping out by recording conservation issues or repackaging items as we go along, we occasionally try out our equipment on other things, to see if we can recapture anything thought lost, to separate out the colours in the thread used to mend a piece of parchment or just to see what happens. Our Crime-lite Imager, when teamed with our Forensic Light Source, can emit light from the entire spectrum, from Ultra violet to Infra-Red, so can be used to pick up writing which has faded away or to separate out details where there are intermingled materials that fluoresce at different wavelengths, such as plaited cord seal attachments.



When we were in Exeter Cathedral archives, we were very excited to be allowed to use our equipment to have a quick look at the Exeter Book.

i. micel englisc boc be gewhilcum þingum on leoðwisan geworht

‘One large book in English concerning various subjects, composed in verse’

Ifor and the Exeter Book
The single exclamation mark here really doesn’t do justice to our levels of excitement.

Granted UNESCO status in 2016 when it was added to the Memory of the World register, the Exeter Book is the largest and oldest surviving manuscript of English poetry. Within its 122 folios of statuesque Anglo-Saxon Square Minuscule script, saints’ lives, bestiary texts, maxims, elegies, homiletic texts, and nearly a century of Riddles are inscribed, made all the more incredible by the fact the manuscript was completed by a single scribe. However, despite being the “foundation volume of English literature”, (UNESCO, 2016) for much of its near 1000-year history, the codex has been abused more than used. Having survived for a period of time without a binding, the opening folios of the extant manuscript (ff.8r) have suffered from extensive staining and scoring; a ring-shaped mark (argued to be from a glue pot) sits square in its centre while the edges of the folio are defaced with repeated scoring from a knife, one of which has been crudely sewn back together. These stains affect not one but five folios of the manuscript through to f.13r/v. Forty folios further in, folio 53r/v has been cropped along its top edge, resulting in the loss of 8 lines of manuscript text of Canticles, while the final fourteen folios of the manuscript have suffered from the most significant damage of all: fire damage. This is the result, according to previous editors, of a ‘hot poker or a fire-brand’ being placed across the final folio, burning through the manuscript to f.115r and causing significant textual losses to the final set of Riddles, and a number of short poems (Judgement Day I to Ruin). That flecks of gold and silver can also be seen across a number of folios suggest that the manuscript spent some time being put to practical use in the scriptorium not only as a chopping board (as detailed above) but as a means of keeping gold and silver leaf flat; this repurposing of the codex may well have been key to its survival. Elsewhere, evidence of use rarely pertains to the contents: the manuscript includes a number of drypoint drawings (angels’ heads, vines, some litterae notabiliores, figures holding scrolls, and one – placed upside down on the folio – of a man riding a horse). Research undertaken in the 90s (Conner, 1993) suggests that some of these may have been present on the parchment prior to the manuscript being written, as the ink can be seen to ‘bleed into’ the drypoint lines in a number of places. We used our Crime-lite Imager to image some of these drypoint drawings.

Fred 123a

Horse, f. 123


Angel, f. 78

The drypoint sketches were a joy to image. It helped, for a start, that we already knew they were there! Even more exciting for us, however, were the results of our imaging techniques on the text itself. Using various wavelengths of light, we digitally ‘pulled’ text from stains, separated it out from scratches and burn marks. We have given these images to Exeter Cathedral Library and Archives, so that the text can be preserved for future generations. They also raise interesting questions about whether all the stains were, in fact, produced after the manuscript was written.

 f. 8

A small sample of writing rescued from f. 8

We picked a folio almost at random and found some text that does not, at first glance, have any business being anywhere. Folio 33r has what appears to be one of the litterae notabiliores buried underneath the text, which we brought out for imaging using Infra-Red light from a forensic light source. We thought at first that the text was show-through from the other side, but the other side does not match up. Is part of the Exeter Book a palimpsest, or is something else going on? Either way, this discovery has implications for how we understand the book to have been put together. Is it re-used parchment or did it once have a different order than we now know it?

 f. 33

f. 33. What is that under the writing, starting second line down?

Like all good collaborative projects, we think sharing ideas and skills is vital to scholarship, so Imprint have teamed up with Dr. Johanna Green, a self-confessed Exeter Book obsessive at University of Glasgow. The manuscript has been the centre of her research for over a decade. Often described as a miscellany due to the unusual organisation of contiguous religious and secular texts, a number of more recent studies argue that the manuscript might be better understood as an anthology, within which smaller thematic units of poems can be identified; ‘the Exeter codex is a composite of miniature compositions of which the individual poems can be seen as parts.’ (Lochrie 1986: 323). Johanna’s own research has centred on the decoration and organization of the manuscript’s litterae notabiliores (Green, 2012) which – after extensive examination and analysis – reveals a hierarchical pattern of use that has so far gone relatively unnoticed, but which may indicate certain organisational principles, or visual cues to literacy.

It is clear from the large number of scholarly outputs to date that there is much still to be discovered about the Exeter Book and its contents. Our images taken while having a quick look at the manuscript reveal details not currently visible by the naked eye which may impact how we understand the production of the original manuscript and its use over time. We plan to secure some funding to go back soon and have a proper look at the Exeter Book using our equipment.

The Exeter Book has not given up all its secrets just yet.


Hollie L. S. Morgan and Johanna M. E. Green



The Small Matter of the Hereford Jury Seals

Filed under: Adventures in archives — foakes at 12:15 pm on Thursday, August 25, 2016  Tagged , , , ,

Hereford Cathedral Archives (HCA): No. 649

Of all the documents the team examined at Hereford Cathedral Archives, probably the most interesting personally were also the most unassuming. Hereford possesses a small set of jury verdicts dating from the early 14th century. These are pretty much as they sound, a written record of a jury’s verdict, in these instances relating to criminal trials. Most importantly for the project, the jurors each attached their seals as authentication of the verdict. While the amount of surviving judicial material in England is not insignificant by the late 13th and early 14th centuries, surviving verdicts with seals are comparatively very rare.

The verdicts are written on very small bits of parchment. Strips (known as tongues) were cut horizontally into the parchment at the bottom and the seals were attached on these, often with several seals to each tongue. The names of the jurors themselves are usually listed in the verdict, though we currently cannot match seals to names. Below are the contents of the verdict. Many of the seal impressions are now obliterated, but the ones which do survive are varied, and some are quite sophisticated in their design. What is particularly striking about these, however, is the tiny size of the seals (see the photo below for a comparison with a 5p coin).
juryseal comparison
HCA : No. 648
Tuesday next after the Feast of St. Hilary.
Verdict of a jury in the court of Madely, consisting of Phillip Dypre, Hugh de Karewardin, John de Kinleye, William de Godeweye, Walter de Cobliton’, Adam de Murmal, Roger de la Hyde, Walter son of Richard de Lolham, Richard de Abbrugge, Gilbert de Bellemere, Roger de Lolham, Robert de la Hull’, to the effect that Hugh son of William de la Bache is a thief and broke into the house of Hugh the smith of Madely and the house of Walter the smith of the same and stole flour and horseshoes and other goods, and the house of Margery de la Bache and stole woollen cloth and other goods.

Interestingly, the small size of Hereford’s surviving jury seals are also repeated in another type of criminal document dating from 1346. This is a receipt from four men to the sheriff of Hereford for assuming from the sheriff the responsibility of guarding a murder suspect until to his court appearance (see below, HCA 1116).

These are the smallest seals that the project has come across to date and, despite the fragmentary condition of some of them, they show a marked similarity in size. This in itself is intriguing. Is this related to the social status of the seal owners? Are they perhaps related by a common place or person of manufacture? Or are these seals perhaps peculiar to certain forms of documents, particularly those relating to criminal justice? If the latter, does it extend beyond Herefordshire? These are all questions which we will be exploring further.

HCA 649

prisoner custody
HCA 1116

Fergus PW Oakes

A little more about the project

Filed under: Links to other blogs — Hollie Morgan at 10:40 am on Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Prof Philippa Hoskin (PI) and Dr Elizabeth New (Co-I) have written a blog post for the Verkörperung kommunaler Identität blog, explaining more about the project’s aims and methods. You can find the blog post here.

The curious case of the pressed-in ring

Filed under: Adventures in archives — Hollie Morgan at 1:45 pm on Thursday, August 4, 2016  Tagged , , , , ,

After two weeks of training with our specialist equipment, we were unleashed into The National Library of Wales to work on the Penrice and Margam charters.

January is a strange time to be introduced to Aberystwyth: it is beautiful, the people are very friendly and there are postcards in the shops saying ‘Come to Sunny Aberystwyth’ but it is also freezing cold, very windy and the sea is out to get you. I spent four weeks in various lonely B&Bs including one week on the sea front during a storm. I lay in my bed watching the waves crashing against my third-floor window until the proprietor came to tell me to close the curtains ‘just in case they get smashed’. The next morning involved a daring escape through the basement kitchen and up a fire escape, a dash past closed-off roads, dodging waves and flying rocks and a battle against the wind up the hill to arrive, soaking wet, at what seemed at that moment the best place on earth. The National Library of Wales is a wonderful place where you’re greeted in both Welsh and English, where the gift shop sells everything from books and cards to jewellery and whisky and where the cafe serves tea in pots and soup with cheese. Their collections include the Hengwrt Chaucer, Piers Plowman and, of course, charters with lots of beautiful seals, covered in prints.

While we saw many beautiful and interesting seals depicting knights on horseback, flowers, enthroned bishops and heraldry, my favourite was a seal without a matrix impression at all. Penrice Margam charter 123 has a seal with the impression of a ring in it. Not the impression of a signet ring, but the whole ring, pressed into the wax.

Seal of Aberystwyth, The National Library of Wales, Penrice and Margam charter 123

The charter itself is a quitclaim by Wenthlian, daughter of Morgan, to Margam Abbey, of a meadow and gorse land which belonged to her father. The charter is small in comparison to the seal and the attachment, which is a long, plaited cord of at least two colours. It seems to me a little incongruous: someone seems to have made a big deal of sealing the charter and attaching the seal, and yet the seal matrix is lacking. Was it simply overlooked, or was it a deliberate choice to press a ring (perhaps with monetary or sentimental value)? Using the Crime-lite Imager, we found prints in the centre of the ring impression.


The seal under the Crime-lite Imager

I would love to think that these are the ring and  handprint of Wenthlian, daughter of Morgan. Unfortunately, we will never know for sure. What it does tell us, however, is that seals and sealing practices were not as straightforward as people might think. If a seal was simply a mark of an individual, what does this impression say? While a ring could be a signifier of authority, it means little in profile. One could deduce that it was the act of sealing that was important for this person, rather than the seal itself. In that case, perhaps it was Wenthlian after all who, lacking in a seal matrix and unsure of the technique, was nonetheless determined to make an impression.


Hollie L. S. Morgan

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