The Twitter community of medieval historians have a recurring thread called #notalion. I ventured a humble contribution myself after our jaunt to Lisbon last year, but today I have come across a horde (herd, pack, pride) of not-quite-lions, all conveniently close together in and around the duomo of Modena, where we are spending a few days before moving on to La Serenissima. (It’s a tough job, being rude about the Biennale, but somebody has to do it.) Continue reading
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Over the Easter weekend, the children who live opposite were applying the life lesson of the 
I never quite understood what was so great about St Martin slicing his cloak in two and giving half to a beggar: why didn’t he just hand over the whole cloak and be done with it? He was a soldier – would he have to account to his superiors for a missing cloak, whereas half a cloak he could get away with?
Though the constant thread running through his adult life was radical journalism (for which he spent most of the years 1810–12 in Newgate prison), William Cobbett (1763–1835) had many careers: farmer, soldier, grammarian, language teacher, author, economist, printer, publisher, Member of Parliament – and nurseryman. A plant and seed catalogue published by him (from internal evidence, one of a very frequent series, this issue dating to 4 December in a year after 1826) has just come to light in the archive which I am helping to sort through, and it is completely characteristic of the man.
I’ve recently had the pleasure and privilege of not one but three ‘private views’, with talks, of the new exhibition, ‘
I have to confess that I had hoped that the Persian ironwood tree, Parrotia persica, had obtained its botanical name (first applied by C.A. von Meyer in 1831) because it was observed to be a favourite perch for parrots, but alas, real life isn’t like that, and the eponymous Parrot turns out to be a German called Friedrich Parrot. Since the German for ‘parrot’ is ‘Papagei’ (as in
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