Most of all, our early modern reader(s) seem interested in the good, hard stuff of names and dates. Throughout, dates are supplied for key events if they are not given in the main text (for example, in reference to the death of William the Conqueror: ‘Anno 1087′). Dates given in Roman numerals in the main text are also helpfully converted into Arabic numbers. There are prolific glosses relating in particular to figures of Anglo-Saxon history – for example, Aethelflaed, ‘Lady of the Mercians’, or King Edgar – and evidence of a specific interest in Anglo-Saxon royal genealogy. At the beginning of the book, opposite the second woodcut, we have a carefully-written list of key figures in Anglo-Saxon history (from ‘Hengistus’ and ‘R(ex) Vortygerne’ onwards) and, next to it, an even longer list of Anglo-Saxon saintly women, including ‘L(ady) Werburga’ and ‘Lady Hilda’.

In her fascinating study, Her Life Historical: Exemplarity and Female Saints’ Lives in Late Medieval England, Catherine Sanok envisages a female audience for Bradshaw’s Life of St Werburge. She explores both the nationalist project of the text with its presentation of Werburgh as a saint for both Chester and all of England, and also its construction of Werburgh as a timeless exemplar for virtuous female behaviour. It’s not possible to do justice to all of Sanok’s very subtle and detailed arguments in a short blog entry. But, in brief summary, she sees the text as ‘providing a bridge between the mythic past and the ethical present in the figure of the feminine audience repeatedly instructed to imitate Werburge’ (p. 115). Sanok is right to be cautious in making assertions about the actual audience of the text, and is deliberately circumspect in her reference to the ‘figure’ of the feminine audience as textual trope rather than (necessarily) its real readership.

The marginal notes in the British Library copy fo the Pynson have made me return to these questions of audience and reception. Of course, we can’t know for sure the gender of all the early modern readers of this book (though the identifiable names inscribed on the frontispiece are male). But clearly the late sixteenth-century readers who left their marks in this book read the text with specific interests and concerns. The list of Anglo-Saxon saintly women does suggest an attention to feminine spirituality and female exemplars. But this ’catalogue’ approach resonates less with the moral teachings of hagiography and more with the interests suggested by the annotations as a whole – in genealogy, names, dates and in placing the key figures and moments within their proper place in Anglo-Saxon history. Bradshaw’s text seems to have been used less as an exploration of saintly virtue and spiritual patronage, and more as a source (or repository) for the hard facts of Anglo-Saxon history. Of course, there are interesting things to say about how this attitude fits within the emergent scholarly interest in Anglo-Saxon history (and vernacular language) in the early modern period, and how it might reflect the readers’ sense of heritage, identity, and ‘Englishness’. I’d be very interested to hear from anyone who knows more about these notes, or the earliest owners / readers of this book than I do.

On reflection, perhaps my favourite set of annotations come very near the end of Book II, where Bradshaw gives a brief re-cap of the miracles performed by Werburgh. As Bradshaw gives his summary of these acts of divine grace, the early modern reader has helpfully numbered a running tally in the left-hand margin, counting up to a grand total of ’13′. Was the reader in the midst of a ‘Top Trumps’-style comparison between the saints of medieval England? Sadly, we’ll never know – but marginal notes like this offer fascinating clues about how medieval texts were actually read.

Rob is interested in the ways in which Cheshire texts ‘work together to complicate persistent academic binaries of metropole and margin, centre and periphery, and nation and region’ (p. 1). His study argues that, whilst the relationships between Cheshire and Wales have been investigated in various ways by medievalists, the complex interactions between Cheshire and the wider nation of England deserve further attention. The first publication in a new series, Reformations: Medieval and Early Modern, edited by David Aers, Sarah Beckwith and James Simpson, Rob’s book is explicit about its aim to challenge existing scholarly paradigms and assumptions. He asks new questions about how national and local identities are produced, emphasising inter-dependence, interaction and sometimes antagonism, and deliberately works across the transitions and continuities from medieval to early modern.

The book’s first chapter has the most striking relevance for our current work on the ‘Mapping Medieval Chester’ project. In ‘From Cloister to Corporation: Imagining Chester in Benedictine Encomium and Saint’s Life’, Rob explores Lucian’s De Laude Cestrie and Henry Bradshaw’s Life of St Werburge – two of our central project texts. I really like the way Rob describes Lucian’s vision of the city as a text needing explication, commenting on how ‘the simple act of walking around the city replicates the textual practice of the exegete’ (p. 42). Rob calls attention to the ways in which Lucian’s description appropriates the entire urban space, figuring and interpreting the city according to monastic ideology and authority. He notes that ‘Lucian… uses the vocabulary of monastic discourse to shift the abbey’s legal and political boundaries, to make them coterminous with those of Chester itself’ (p. 35).

Rob examines how Lucian invests the city landscape with symbolic potentials, and acknowledges the resulting ‘deliberate deformations his spatial hermeneutic works on the cityscape of Chester’ (p. 30). I’m also interested in Lucian’s spatial imagination – clearly influenced by the medieval mappae mundi tradition. Increasingly, I suspect there’s a link between Lucian’s cartographic imagination and the Easter Tables located at the beginning of the manuscript. We know that medieval maps and Easter Tables often travelled together – is this further evidence that Lucian imagines and constructs his text as a project in spatial (and temporal) mapping?

Rob sees a big difference in Henry Bradshaw’s later Life of St Werburge. Here he finds evidence of the power struggles between monastic and secular authorities within Chester, and the increasingly precarious insistence of St Werburgh’s on its role as guardian and centre of the city. Rob also comments interestingly on the London printing of the Life by Richard Pynson (the only text which now survives), exploring how this local hagiography is re-shaped and incorporated into ‘the emergent anti-Lutheran effort’ (p. 58) and is ‘mobilized… in defense of the national religious body against a foreign invader’ (p. 53). I think my work on the memory of Anglo-Saxon Mercia in the Life of St Werburge can bring some interesting new perspectives to this argument. There’s much more to say about how the text imagines an authentic, continuous religious tradition which shapes Cestrian (and wider national) identity, and also the ways in which Mercian identity may be contiguous with – or subtly different from – Englishness.

I particularly enjoyed the Epilogue, in which Rob looks at ongoing negotiations of Cheshire identity - often making use of pre-modern materials – in the twenty-first century. Rob draws together a range of sources such as the revived performances of the Cycle Plays, literary imaginings of Cheshire and political changes (including the establishment of the new unitary authority) which continue to demonstrate the positioning of Cheshire identity in response and counterpoint to national (and even global) trends and pressures.

Rob will be coming all the way from Chicago to Swansea this week for our Porject Co-ordination Team / Advisory Committee meeting. I’m looking forward to discussing our shared research interests then!

This feels like a major milestone: over the past four months I’ve been working hard on the text itself, as well as getting to grips with the encoding language. In fact, the XML has proved rather satisfying in the end. Whilst I suspect I’ve been using parts of my brain I’ve never exercised before, it’s very pleasing to get a feel for the protocols and patterns and watch the lines of code grow – a bit like knitting a scarf.

Henry Bradshaw’s Life of St Werburge has presented its own particular demands at the encoding stage. The text is extremely ambitious in its historical range and scope – almost like a vast encyclopaedia of medieval Chester – and so there are a huge number of places, people and events which need marking up. All this information encoded within the text – searchable, linked to the other project texts and map, as well as other traditional print and digital materials – should mean that it’s a really rich resource. There’s still much more to do, finalising subject taxonomies and hierarchies, to ensure that all the project data is interlinked and organised in meaningful ways.

As a poet, Bradshaw hasn’t received a good press from critics in the past. But after my close work with the Life of St Werburge I’ve found some interesting stylistic features which I think are worthy of more discussion. I hope to share my thoughts on some of them via the blog in the next few weeks.

Meanwhile, I have a decision to make tonight: pizza, Chinese, or Indian?