Fun with Transcription

I'm participating in an online course right now on transcribing Renaissance archival documents through the Medici Archive Project in Rome. I have zero experience with archives, but archive research is a large part of the "history" part of art history, so I'll be doing it someday. I was rather unprepared for Renaissance conventions of orthograhy, spelling, punctuation, you name it. The first obstacle is the handwriting itself, which can be absolutely impenetrable, like this week's supplemental document:


I have no idea what this says. In the entire thing, I could pick out the words "della sposa," that's all. Luckily, I'm not alone, no one else in the class can figure it out either. A lot of the other participants clearly have experience reading older hands and know a lot more about Italian grammar than I do, which is a little intimidating.

The chief difficulty in transcribing these documents is the number of abbreviatons that people used--there are a lot, and while some follow fairly standard conventions, others seem just totally random. Some are easy to figure out; if you see a document start off V. S. Ecc.a, that's Vostra Signoria Eccellenza, your excellent lordship. Final vowels are routinely left off words and indicated by a little dash of superscript, so governar' is "governare," etc. More random is how they'll omit letters within a word: de'a is "detta," and dima'davano is "dimandavano." I mean, you're already writing out the whole word, what's one more letter? They will also use multiple abbreviations for long words, so gra'diss.a is "grandissima." And then sometimes I just have no idea, like last week, when the writer of the document identified herself as Caterina Picc.i, and everyone else was like "oh, Caterina Piccolomini, of course!" and I was like wait, what?

There is a little book on medieval and Renaissance document abbreviations that lists some of the most common ones, which is especially key when it's not an abbreviation but rather a symbol, or an entire word indicated by a single letter with some marks above it. Unfortunately, there were no real standards for this back then. Then you have to factor in the legibility, how educated the person was, where in Italy they were from (all the different cities in Italy marked a different day as the beginning of the New Year, so March 25 1547 in Venice is still 1546 in Naples), and, basically, whether they could put a coherent sentence together. It's pretty daunting, and I can't imagine being left on my own to look at this stuff in an archive.

That said, this week's main document was fairly easy to decipher; the writing is very legible, the abbreviations are pretty standard, and I could immediately figure out what they're talking about (that can be a real help in figuring out an otherwise ambiguous word). It's a news report from Antwerp on the current political situation in England, namely the Prayerbook Rebellion of 1549.


I've transcribed it and translated it, since now we're doing a round-robin thing where everyone contributes a line. My favorite is this line:

Che il conte di Varvich et il signor Gray quali erano destinati per capitani quali della armata contro lo scozzesi erano mandate con una parte della gente per impedire le vettovaglie, et havevano intercetti alcuni che venivano in aiuto di detto populo, et fatti morire alcuni preti.

That the count of Warwick and Mr Gray, who were intended to be captains of the armada against the Scots, were sent with a part of the army to impede their supply lines, and they have intercepted some who came to aid those people, and have killed some priests.

Those Protesants did not fuck around...

Post-Script

The vet put Lady Jane to sleep yesterday afternoon. He called me and explained that while he could keep her alive longer, he didn't think it was the humane course of action, especially since he couldn't explain why she was unable to walk and was going downhill so quickly. I was at school by this point, so I'm glad that I'd gotten all cried out in the morning. Of course, I'd told a bunch of people why I was going to be late, so my friends all asked about my new cat, and Dr. Cooper asked if I had a picture, and I had to tell them nope, sorry, false alarm, no new kitty. Sigh.

Yesterday I went to the Wissahickon around 9 for a walk and took my camera with me to finally capture some pictures of the gorgeous foliage before it all falls to the ground.


The route I take, between Kitchens Lane and Livezy Lane entrances to the park, has two trail options. The lower trail is down by the river and much more scenic, but it's incredibly rocky and takes maybe 45-50 minutes round trip. You also have to go over Fingerspan Bridge and then down the 100 feet of stone steps, which I haven't been keen on doing lately while they're covered in damp leaves. The upper trail, which is for hikers, bikers, and horses, is less picturesque but faster, probably 30 minutes round-trip, especially if you jog the flatter parts. The high trail has its challenges, though, at least for someone like me who's afraid of heights: three massive concrete pipes that lead you across ravines. In two of the cases, you can easily follow a trail that leads you up and around them, but you have to cross the third if you want to go out to Livezey Lane (actually, there is an alternate route here too, but it takes you out like a quarter-mile up the road, so I don't bother). Naturally, the third is the longest and has the steepest ravine underneath it. Naturally.


Thus, since it freaks me out to cross the pipes even when conditions are totally dry, I've been extra freaked about doing it with damp shoes. Yesterday, however, I decided I was going to take the high trail to Livezy, then walk down the road so I could take the lower trail back to Kitchens, thereby giving me time to snap photos of my favorite vistas. So I braved the third pipe, freaking out all the while, and headed down to the water to take the low trail. While I was down there I noticed a cat lying in the leaves, and went over to introduce myself because, hey, I like to do those things. She was really friendly, and when I pulled my hand away she got up to follow me--and promptly fell over. Then she tried again, and fell again. Uh-oh. I watched her for a few minutes, thinking, "Man, this cat must be dying." Thomas kept falling over right before we took him to be euthanized, so I figured this cat was in the same position.

Of course this had to happen when I was something like two miles away from my car. I decided to hike back, get the car, drive to Livezey Lane and then take the cat to Phyllis' vet in Chestnut Hill. While I was headed back--thinking of how that cat almost definitely had fleas, and how I didn't even have a blanket in my car, nor my credit card or license, and should I go home to get something and come back and run the risk she'd drag herself into the woods--it did cross my mind that I could just leave her there and let nature take its course; it costs $90 to have a cat euthanized, but nothing to let it die on its own in the woods. Then I thought of my mom, and if she would ever leave a helpless sick animal to fend for itself, especially a cat, and I knew she wouldn't, not even if she was only helping it to be killed humanely.

Anyway, I made it back to the car and sped over to Livezey. The only thing I had in the car was an inflatable air mattress in the trunk, so I wrapped the cat in that once I'd successfully manhandled her into the car. She was clearly frightened, but so gentle: she didn't hiss or try to bite me. I took her to the vet fully expecting they would just tell me she needed to be put to sleep, but instead an hour later they told me they wanted to run a whole barrage of tests on her to see if she might just be weak and dehydrated. Expected cost: $190. I said OK, and went home. The vet called later with good news: her bloodwork looked good, she didn't have FIV or leukemia, she was just weak and anemic. He said they'd give her some steroids and antibiotics, and her problem walking might clear up on its own once she was stronger. He wanted to keep her overnight but told me I could take her home in the morning.

Phyllis and I talked about it last night, and decided that since this cat had clearly 'chosen' us, we should adopt her. We decided to give her a trial run for a few weeks on the front porch, and see if her walking issues went away. Phyllis asked if I'd thought of a name, and I lied and said no, but of course I had--I remembered she had a cute little grey face, so I thought we could call her Lady Jane Grey. (As I discovered today, only her head was grey; the rest of her was "blue cream," a diluted form of the tortoiseshell gene.) Luckily we still had most of Thomas' things, but I went to the store this morning and bought wet and dry catfood as well. Then I went to the vet.

I should have known something was up by the look on the receptionist's face when I said I was there to pick up the stray. She told me the vet tech would be out shortly "to talk." That is exactly they do to you at hospitals when someone is dead or dying, but I was so confident in what the vet himself had told me that I just shrugged. Then the technician came out, and told me that the cat had gone sharply downhill overnight. She could barely eat, and couldn't stand at all. They told me they needed to keep her for observation, but that it's likely she'll need to be euthanized anyway. I went in the back to see her, and even without any medical expertise I could tell how bad she was; she couldn't even raise her head to look at me when I petted her, whereas yesterday she could move around and try to follow me. I went back out front and signed the euthanization release form: if the vet decides her condition is too bad, they'll put her to sleep today, without waiting for me. I wouldn't be able to come back till tomorrow, and there's no reason to make her suffer.

Everyone was really nice and sympathetic, especially since they agreed she's a really sweet cat. I know it's better for her to be put to sleep painlessly than to die out there in the woods, alone, but I still found myself crying all the way home. It's my own fault for getting my hopes up, I know: I named her in my head, and set up the dishes and litterbox on the porch, and bought a couple different kinds of wet food because I didn't know what she'd like. The vet just seemed to optimistic about her chances yesterday that I thought it was a done deal. I was looking forward to having a cat again, but now it doesn't look like that will happen, or if it does, it won't be Lady Jane.

Today is a nasty, rainy day. I'm glad I decided to go to the park yesterday, when I don't normally go on Tuesdays. I'm glad I decided to swing down by the water when I would normally have just turned around on the high trail. I'm glad she's somewhere warm and comfortable, and that there will be people with her when they put her down. I'm just so sad that I couldn't take her home with me. And now I'm crying again, and I have to leave for the train. Dammit!

Fun Times with the Spouse

Sean's here, yay! He got in really late on Thursday, and then came to school with me on Friday, He went to gallery talk given by Dr. Silk on communism and the arts in the 1950s while I was teaching my section, and then we went to get lunch from one of the trucks on campus. The proprietor, a very friendly old man with a Greek accent, must have seen our rings and seen us kissing, because he congratulated us on 'committing to each other for life,' and then told us about his grandchildren and showed us pictures on his cell phone before handing over our (delicious!) wraps. That was some good feta, I tell you. I think I've made a new friend.

Friday afternoon into the evening we volunteered to help Dr. Bolman set up for the reception she was hosting for the attendees of the Byzantine Studies Conference at Penn to celebrate her exhibition on the conservation of the Red and White monasteries. This is a pretty big deal, not only because the exhibition is awesome and is going to travel to museums around the world, but because it raises Temple's profile in the Byzantine studies community considerably. Many of the people who came told her they'd never been to Temple before but were quite impressed, and I know that the vast and delectable spread, catered by Whole Foods, was a crowd-pleaser. One guy actually took a photo of one of the tables before leaving. We didn't leave until 8:30, and Dr. Bolman insisted we all take a bottle of wine (with strict instructions not to tell anyone she gave it to us) as well as whatever food we could carry; Sean and I opted for an entire fruit tray, because that was some of the best-tasting fruit I've had in recent memory. She was really pleased that so many non-medieval students were there to help out, and she was doubly pleased that I managed to volunteer my husband at the same time!

Saturday morning we went to the PMA, where I had an appointment with the art librarian, and then walked around the collections for a couple of hours. We were both pretty exhausted from the night before, so we weren't at the optimal level of enthusiasm for a museum tour, but it was still nice. Generally in museums we wander around arguing about what pictures we would and wouldn't hang in our future house. Sean's always worried that I would want some "nightmarish" modern art piece. We did agree on a few select items, including Frederic Edwin Church's Pichincha, but we disagreed on a lot more! Oh, and he tried to embarrass me in the Abstract Expressionist room by making fun of the art. Sigh.

Last night we went to see Henry V at the Sedgwick Theatre, down the street from my house. It's in a beautiful Art Deco building from the 1920s, and although the interior has been really ravaged by time, there are echoes of the original mural decorations on the walls and ceiling. The actual theater portion of the building was sectioned off a long time ago, so the performance took place in a huge oval-shaped room that was once one of the lobbies (the theater group's website has a picture of the ceiling in this room, with a chandelier and the remains of the painted decoration).

The play was done pretty old-school, with bare stage, largely normal lighting, and almost no props. The costumes ranged from historical (for the foppish French nobles) to recent-historical (WWII uniforms for the soldiers) to contemporary (tuxedos for King Henry's court when they were being formal). Men also played the women's roles--and played them disturbingly well, considering the amount of movement in high heels that was required. The performance was really good, but the play itself was a little odd; immediately after the dramatic victory at Agincourt, the tone switches to comedy with Henry playing a trick on one of his soldiers. Then there's an extended courtship scene at the end between Henry and the daughter of the vanquished French king, which, while funny, made me lean over and whisper to Sean "when did this turn into a romantic comedy?" Then it ended a couple of minutes later on a totally down note, showing the king's future death and the accession of his young son, who would lose everything that his father had just won. It was kind of uneven, but overall extremely enjoyable. Oh, and student tickets were $10! Win.