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uchicagoscrc · 7 years ago

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Manicule or Phallicule?: Naughty Marginalia Isn’t New

Manicules, or pointing hands/fingers, are frequently found in both manuscript and printed books, often added in the margins in manuscript by a reader as a means of pointing to a passage of interest. Some printers’ type founts included a piece of type that could be used similarly (though in printer’s parlance the symbol is commonly referred to as a “fist”).

Occasionally, however, a non-traditional manicule turns up, such as the one below punctuating Jodocus Badius‘ commentary on Ode 5 from Book 2 of Horace’s Odes in an edition of the works of Horace from 1576 (PA6393.A2 1576). The practice of adding phallic marginalia in medieval manuscripts has been treated by scholars (see the 2014 Collectors weekly article “Naughty nuns, flatulent monks, and other surprises of sacred medieval manuscripts”), but the appearance of phallic manicules added by readers to printed books is only briefly mentioned in scholarly sources, such as the following passage from William H. Sherman’s Used books: marking readers in Renaissance England:

“ ... readers exercised both flexibility and ingenuity in deploying their manicules. Fingers point down at the text from above, or they stretch across the entire width of the page; they become phallic pointers as they highlight discussions of male genitalia, or sprout leaves and flowers, mimicking the foliage that sometimes adorned brackets or illuminated borders; they point not just to passages in the text but in the reader’s own annotations.” (Sherman, page 37)

In the note to this statement Sherman notes the presence of phallic manicules in the Folger’s copy of Rams little Dodeon (1606) in sections describing genital diseases in males. (Sherman, note 40, page 195)

In this case the text of the ode may have informed the choice of manicule design. Much ink has been spilled regarding the interpretation of this ode and the sexual imagery it evokes.

Book 2, Ode 5 (from the Latin Library)

Nondum subacta ferre iugum valet cervice, nondum munia comparis aequare nec tauri ruentis in venerem tolerare pondus.

Circa virentis est animus tuae campos iuvencae, nunc fluviis gravem solantis aestum, nunc in udo ludere cum vitulis salicto

praegestientis. Tolle cupidinem immitis uvae: iam tibi lividos distinguet autumnus racemos purpureo varius colore;

iam te sequetur; currit enim ferox aetas et illi quos tibi dempserit adponet annos; iam proterva fronte petet Lalage maritum,

dilecta, quantum non Pholoe fugax, non Chloris albo sic umero nitens ut pura nocturno renidet luna mari Cnidiusve Gyges,

quem si puellarum insereres choro, mire sagacis falleret hospites discrimen obscurum solutis crinibus ambiguoque voltu.

(English translation from stoa.org)

She doesn't yet have strength to endure a yoke on her submissive neck, not yet match the pace in harness work, nor bear the violent weight of a bull in the rites of Venus.

Among the verdant fields is the heart of your young heifer, now in streams to assuage the heat of scorching noontime, now in river willows to frolic with calf-companions

Her all-consuming joy. Put away desire for unripe grapes: soon Autumn in mottled hue for you alone will brush the dusky clusters to sweetness with glowing violet.

She'll soon pursue you (Time in its ruthless course runs on, and all those taken away from you it adds to her years), soon with reckless glances Lalage will seek her husband,

A girl adored as never shy Pholoë, or Chloris, shoulder gleaming with ivory, as cloudless moon on midnight sea sheds glimmering light, or as Cnidian Gyges,

Who, if you circle him with a band of girls, could strangely trick the sharpest of visitors by shadowing discernment under free-flowing hair and a face like either.

One twitter user has suggested the term “phallicule” for this type of manicule, while Sherman mentions the term “penicules” in note 40 (page 195). Unfortunately there is no controlled vocabulary term for non-traditional manicule shapes that can be added to catalog records for researchers interested in finding examples in rare books (we do add the Rare Books and Manuscripts Section provenance vocabulary term “Manicules (Provenance)” to items with manuscript manicules of any sort), so perhaps for simplicity sake it is best to stick with a descriptive term + “manicule” for keyword searching.

Sherman, William H. Used books: marking readers in Renaissance England. Philadelphia : University of Pennyslivania Press, 2008.

#manicule #marginalia #horace

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sublimegentlemanalpaca · 5 years ago

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The Staff (at present) of Archimago Academy (Part 1)

a note on Archimago Academy before proceeding. Archimago Academy is the first place of teaching new Eldritchicians for the Fellowship founded some time in the later end of the fourth century ad/ce. the Campus or the Academy is the repurposed Tower City Palace of the old Erlking Albrecht (now Alwin) V Eldritch. Located in the exact center of the Ever changing landscape of Faerie and Elfpham. sepersted from the rest of Faerie and Elfphame by the Eldritch Woods. Is expected to still offer housing to the abdica Erlking when he and his Wild Hunt show up after having visited and stayed with the Five Queens/Empresses of Faerie and Elfphame.

Headmistress: Rhonwen Goodfellow deHautdesert aka the Green Lady, aka Lady Bertilak. A native to the Eldritch Woods. One of the Old Fae. Wife to Sir Bertalik de Hautdesert the Green Knight, and sister to the Old Erlking's Corruptor of Words Rosemary Goodfellow. The fourth to hold the position of Headmistress, following Huld, who followed Morgan Le Fay, who followed the Founder and Arch Overseer of the FoE Alyss Violet Eldridge.

Combat Professors: 1) Quincey Johnathan Harker. Human, has stayed alive thanks to being granted a Flask with Indunian Cider from Algimantas Varius Eldritch. Has proficiency with Ghosts and Undead(Vampires especially), Fairies/Elves, and I forget his third Proficiency. Crap. Anyway! Quincy like his name sake is good with a Bowie Knife. The other Combat Professor is Huld. Huld is an elf (likely of Gloriana or Diana's Court), sister to Overseer Runa Ring Maker, sister in-law to Alyss, and one of the first Eldritchicians. Specializes in Spear Combat. Proficient with...I forget exactly. In a trio with Quincey and Horatio.

Professor of Rhetoric: Professor Florimond C. Feather. A Large man that calls to mind an Ape. Is human. Has a Red Beard in a style like Jules Verne or George MacDonald yet the hair on his head is an odd white marking him as an ESPer. Has some Psychic powers, a chilling Pale blue eye that puts one in mind of the Tell Tale Heart. Has himself a Gold Bug Brooch that is in fact a Cipher Beetle used by some members of the FoE's Preternatural Intelligentsia. Helps tend to Runa's Unkindness, is proficien with Ghosts, Cryptid, Angels, and Fairies. Professor Feather is an Alumnus of Dreadrock University. Also acts as a Guidence counselor and assists with the in house Asylum. Prof. Feather comes off as a frightening person, and make no mistake he has potential to be terrifying, but Feather is perhaps one of the most sociable and good humored of the entire staff. Not above playing pranks on his colleug or looking the other way when students play pranks on him. Will not stand for personal insults to anyone though. Has a heavy accent of some sort. Seems like a bizarre mix of French German, and Greek Accents. his accent will not be written out though.

Professor of Logic: Algirdas Simmons. Human, with White hair that indicates he's an ESPer. One of the six Head Intelligencers of the Preternatural Intelligentsia and is often seen as the Arch Overseer's Secretary. Like Prof. Feather Algirdas has himself a Cipher Beetle Brooch of his own.

Professor of Grammar: Hermes Kleinmann. One of many Kleinmann Homunculi made by Aldread V Eldritch who have graduated from Dreadrock University and went on to join the Fellowship of Eldritchicians.

Professor of Ghosts and other Undead: Position shared between Quincey, Prof. Feather, and Horatio.

Professor of Demons: Horatio 'Dr. Faustus' Lykke. A Danish scholar who is currently soulless (soul in the custody of Alan V. Eldritch). Called Doctor Faustus on account of having given up his Soul, and having studied at Wittenberg. Proficient with Demons, Ghosts, Cryptids, and Shadows. Always dressed in Black. To hear him tell it, he is in mourning for a Sweet Prince.

Professor of Angels: Professor Feather, though he shares this position with one Charles Walter Stansby Williams. Yes, that Charles Williams. Basically like real Charles Williams But. I seem to have hit a character limit boo

#the FoE #FoE #Archimago Academy #My Writing #The Fellowship of Eldritchicians #The Eldritch Fellows #The Al-Verse #stupid character limit

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lamesorrow · 6 years ago

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Dig, dig, dig

After seven hours spent shovelling sand in the searing heat of Uldum Varius was slowly starting to think that the Thalassian reverence of the sun was severely misplaced. Thick beads of sweat tickled mercilessly as they trailed down his stomach and back, pooling in the indents between each tired muscle. His shoulders on the other hand were starting to burn despite sun-protecting ointment he slathered all over his body in the morning, unsubtly implying that he will soon be shedding peeled skin all over the place like an oversized lizard.

Still, duty was duty and as such there was nothing Varius could do but pick the shovel up himself and dig. Unsurprisingly enough, while plenty of scholars were very excited about going to Uldum to uncover priceless Titan-made artifacts, the diggers were much less eager to work in the sweltering heat.

People often had a (very) inaccurate picture of archaeology as a gentle thing, one that was all about revered scholars using tiny brushes to lovingly sweep the dust away from half-unearthed relics. The much less romantic reality was that the main tool of an archaeologist was a shovel. The bulk of the work was done by the diggers.

And what to do in the absence of the diggers? Why, the Blood Knights were the next best thing.

Varius sighed deeply. He was being very unfair now, of course; he didn't have to dig. He was technically the coordinator of this expedition after all. It's just that he's always been the kind of person who preferred to have the work done rather than undone, so seeing the untouched excavation site rubbed him the wrong way. It was more of an internal imperative than an order to follow.

Lost in thought, he almost missed the red wooden pole that the archaeologists used to mark the end of the interesting perimeter.

Varius stabbed the shovel into the sand and placed his hands on his hips. He critically regarded his work. A swatch of land had been sectioned off with red string and dotted with marker flags to identify places that held a realistic promise of precious artifacts from a bygone era.

The knight grunted and reached for a small square of cloth that he had folded and tucked behind his belt to stop the sweat trailing down from his spine. The tissue was a little damp and became considerably damper when he used it to wipe his chest and neck.

He instinctively looked around, eyeing the nearby hills for enemies and friends alike. He saw several dark shapes of sentries posted where he wanted them to be and no sight of anything else, be it the locals or the Alliance. Good. The few diggers that let the gold cloud their judgement for long enough to make them agree to join this expedition were safe to, as Lei—as surveyor Brightcloud put it, “play around in the dirt.”

Brightcloud himself was nowhere to be seen. No doubt the sight of sweaty elves insulted his delicate sensibilities. Since the expedition started Varius hadn't seen him leave the main pavilion during the day even once, and even long after nightfall the best the world could see of Leinan was just a flash of his ornate robe as he quickly made his way to his own aircane-conditioned tent.

That thought made Varius exhale softly in relief. Their relationship was short-lived and happened to fizzle out right before the Reliquary was scheduled to embark on the expedition to Uldum. It was way too late to find a replacement for either of them, so Varius had to go through this awkward post-breakup period with no chances for even a bit of solitude and privacy. The memory of Leinan's words still stung painfully whenever he let his mind wander.

You don't care enough.

You don't spend enough time with me.

You would make time for me if you loved me.

You don't make me feel wanted.

You don't love me any more.

I don't love you any more.

Varius sighed.

He was a soldier and he loved like a soldier; in the free moments, when he could afford to think about his own matters. Warmly but quietly. Without much pomp or fanfare.

That was not enough for men like Leinan Brightcloud. He wanted to be courted, fawned over, constantly showered with gifts and attention. Varius understood that, he really did, and he tried, but whenever he came home after a long night spent escorting a convoy and fending off pirates, mercenaries and thieves, all he wanted to do was take a quick bath, collapse on the bed and sleep for a week... Not go to the opera, check out that cute little bakery that opened on the opposite side of the city, make a detour to visit the botanical garden and finally walk all the way back home just to be roped into making love for approximately three hours. Oh, he forgot about the wine. With Leinan Brightcloud one never forgot about the wine. There would've been wine. Plenty of wine.

And then a repeat of that the next day. And the next. And the next.

It was a little cruel to admit, but—despite the sadness and disappointment—Varius' quality of life went up considerably since that breakup. For starters he was actually getting enough sleep to be at least remotely functional again.

He looked up again and froze when he saw the flap of the pavilion ripple and move away. For a second he fully expected to see Leinan's face—but no. It was just Melathara, armed with her white parasol. Varius felt his shoulders sag in relief and instantly felt bad about it.

Mel waved at him cheerfully and made her way across the dig site. Between a bright orange dress, an equally orange headband and kaldorei-style laced-up sandals she looked like she was on her way to attend a beach party rather than conduct important research. That unpretentious approach to life was easily Varius' favourite thing about her.

He watched her approach with a small smile that only grew wider when he noticed a large glass jug in her hand.

“I see you're being your usual overachieving self again,” Mel called out happily. “How's it going?”

“Hard to say. Difficult to make a proper test pit in these conditions, but... two more levels and I think we're going to know whether or not these are a waste of time,” Varius said, nodding towards the markers that dotted the site.

Mel handed him the jug and he almost dropped it when his tired, puffy fingers closed around icy glass. “Ice,” he whispered reverently. “Mel, I love you.”

She laughed loudly and affectionately slapped his shoulder. Then she groaned and wiped her hand on the expensive fabric of her dress. “Sunwell, you're sticky. I've changed my mind; give me that jug, you're going to drop it.”

Varius obediently let her take the jug back and took a few steps away from the dig site to avoid accidentally damaging any artifacts—there was no realistic way of that happening now, but at this point protecting the excavation was a deeply-ingrained instinct he didn't bother fighting.

He gasped loudly when Mel poured cold water over his hands. Soothing coolness breathed some life into his tense wrists and swollen fingers. Varius sighed gratefully and slowly rubbed his hands, trying to work the moisture into his dry skin.

“Bend over,” Mel said. “I'll cool down your neck.”

He obediently folded himself in half and reached for his ponytail to keep the hair out of the way. The splash of cold water over his sun-warmed skin could only be described as shocking, but in a good way. Cold droplets trailing down his shoulders made him shudder in intense relief.

“Thanks, Mel,” he sighed contentedly and straightened out his back. His friend smiled at him.

“Don't mention it. I was dying to get out of that tent anyway.”

Varius hesitated and cast a cautious look at the pavilion.

“How is...?”

“Leinan?” Mel rolled her eyes. “Drowning his grief in wine, swearing that he's never falling in love again and proclaiming that all Blood Knights are emotionless bastards. He's pretty insufferable, really, but that's his usual state of being. Once he reaps his share of condolences and consolation he's going to forget all about it. Trust me, I know him.”

Varius nodded. On one hand, that was comforting—he didn't want Leinan to suffer. On the other hand... it was a little hurtful to be made aware just how forgettable he apparently was.

Mel instantly picked up on his discomfort. She shook her head and gave him a lopsided smile. “No, Vari, don't you worry about that. I told you: I know Leinan. He's a vapid, shallow bimbo.”

Varius winced, prickled by the instinct to defend his (former) boyfriend's honour. As brutal as it was, Mel's statement was... not entirely wrong, but it was definitely not right either; those several months they had spent together had assured Varius that Leinan Brightcloud was a witty, quirky and inquisitive individual. Yes, he was a little prone to theatrics and drama, but which nobleman wasn't? Varius couldn't even blame him for being spoiled and attention-seeking, not after attending that one memorable family reunion and seeing how the nobleborn children were being treated. All shortcomings of Leinan's character were simply a product of his upbringing and to hold it against him would be cruel.

“You have a terrible taste in men,” Mel added, not at all helpfully. Varius grunted.

“Maybe I should stop trying,” he said dryly and reached for his shovel.

“Or maybe you should let me try to fix your bachelor status.”

Varius gave his friend a disbelieving look. “Aren't you the one who set me up with that Farstrider?” He asked incredulously. “The one who insisted on being called 'Wolf' and glared at everything? And smelled like damp leaves?”

Mel scoffed. “It was a trial run!”

“It was a disaster, Mel.”

The mage snorted. Even she couldn't argue that, from the looks of it.

“Okay, fine,” she agreed reluctantly. “But there are plenty more fish in the sea, you know. For example, I was thinking about introducing you to my cousin Elberan...”

Varius raised his eyebrow. “The one that spends extraordinary amounts of gold on vintage Magic: The Sundering trading card games?” he asked, feeling amusement pull at the corners of his lips.

Mel gave him a sour smile. “For a man whose love life consists of a string of awful relationships, you sure are picky,” she said dryly.

“If you want to send me on a blind date with one of your relatives then maybe don't make me listen to endless lists of things you don't like about them.”

Varius rolled his shoulders. Sunlight was already warming up the damp skin on his neck, but there was still work to be done. Cold water helped, but not nearly as much as Mel's presence did. The knight glanced at his friend and gave her a wide, shameless smirk.

“Besides,” he added, knowing full well that his next statement would be enough to make Elberan run away screaming if he ever heard it, “I've always liked Hearthstone better.”

#wow rp #wow character: varius silverstorm

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