the book of flanders

The Signs As The Simpsons Characters

Aries: Moe Szyslak

Originally posted by freakingoutforgood

Taurus: Milhouse van Houten

Originally posted by yodiscrepo

Gemini: Bart Simpson

Originally posted by zeichensprache

Cancer: Maggie Simpson

Originally posted by wolfstruck

Leo: Helen Lovejoy

Originally posted by chupameelgif

Virgo: Homer Simpson

Originally posted by 18month-s

Libra: Ned Flanders

Originally posted by simpsons-latino

Scorpio: Montgomery Burns

Originally posted by ourpastelcloud

Sagittarius: Barney Gumble

Originally posted by fyspringfield

Capricorn: Lisa Simpson

Originally posted by pop-crash

Aquarius: Comic Book Guy

Originally posted by annelopoisson

Pisces: Marge Simpson

Originally posted by look-have-fun

anonymous asked:

You mentioned you felt Zuko was flanderized in Book 3. Do you think Iroh was, too?

Yes. He seemed more like a real person in Books 1 and 2. His dialogue had emotion in it, and he sounded like a real parent who was concerned for their child. His voice would crack when he’d talk to Zuko at some points. You could tell he was just afraid of losing him. He was wise, but still very human.

In Book 3, he barely got much screentime. He was kind of reduced to the wise old man archetype. Instead of his dialogue feeling natural, like a parent concerned for their son, it sounded like cliche Yoda nonsense. When he told Zuko about his inner war of good and evil, with no emotion whatsoever it just felt very unnatural. It didn’t have that authenticity that it had before.

Then he is just sent back to Ba Sing Se to run the tea shop by himself, which is where he is in the comics. He’s especially flanderized in the comics, where he is very 2-dimensional. He’s just the jolly fat tea-loving guy. None of the emotional complexity he had in the show is ever seen again.

Matilda of Flanders was wife of William the Conqueror and, as such, Queen consort of the Kingdom of England.William had fallen in love with Matilda when he saw her for the first time at the French court. He was said to be so passionately enamored of her that he would do anything to obtain her, whether it means by using force.  The legend says that when William made a proposal Matilda thought it far beneath her to marry him he dragged her off her horse by her long braids, and threw her down in the mud-covered street in front of her flabbergasted attendants and he rode away. Rather surprisingly Matilda agreed to proposal after that supposed incident and the couple married in 1051-52, despite being related in prohibited by the church degrees of consanguinity.  The papal dispensation upholding the legality of this marriage was received only in 1059.

Despite its often turbulent nature, William and Matilda’s marriage had been one of the most successful partnerships in medieval Europe. Matilda had been instrumental to her husband’s success. His mainstay for more than thirty years, she had been one of his most valued advisers, had proved a wise and capable ruler during his long absences in England, and had borne him many children to secure his dynasty. It was her bloodline that had enabled him to pursue so vigorous a claim to the English throne in the first place, and her family connections had helped him to retain both this kingdom and the duchy of Normandy for himself and his heirs. William was absolutely faithful to Matilda and put a great trust in her. Matilda often signed important documents together with her husband. She was well educated, competent ruler with formidable character well beloved both in Normandy and England.

In the early hours of November 2 1083, “growing apprehensive because her illness persisted, she confessed her sins with bitter tears and, after fully accomplishing all that Christian custom requires and being fortified by the saving sacrament, she died.” William stayed with her throughout. He was consumed with grief at the death of the woman whom he confessed to love “as my own soul,” and was said to have wept profusely for many days afterward. According to Malmesbury, William eschewed all other women for the remainder of his days. “For when she died, four years before him, he … showed by many days of the deepest mourning how much he missed the love of her whom he had lost. Indeed from that time forward, if we believe what we are told, he abandoned pleasure of every kind.” The duke subsequently fell into a profound depression, from which he never truly recovered, and was, according to one historian, “a mourner till the day of his death.” The various bequests that he made for the soul of his dead wife reveal the sincerity of his grief.

Pictured: William the Conqueror and Matilda of Flanders, illustration to the book “Rite to Conquest” by Judith Tarr

Okay, this might be a random and oddly specific tip but I found it very helpful. ‘Moll Flanders’ by Daniel Defoe was a book I really struggled with, both the style and the unstandardised spelling grated on my nerves.
That was when I decided to try finding an audiobook version to read along with, and, to my surprise it worked very well!


Browne Hours, Widener 3

This manuscript, in the Rare Book Department of the Free Library of Philadelphia, was made sometime between 1460 and 1480 for a wealthy merchant named John Browne, who lived in Stamford, Lincolnshire. It was made in Flanders, and at that time, there were a number of places in Flanders called “ateliers” that would make Books of Hours for individuals all over Europe, especially people living in England. The Browne Hours is a very traditional-looking Book of Hours—in earlier years, most Books of Hours would have belonged to members of the nobility.  But John Browne was a member of a newly arrived successful class of noveau riche or very successful bourgeoisie, who may have long admired the handsome books of the noble class his entire life, and probably sent off for his manuscript to be made when he could finally afford to do so.

The Browne Hours is best-known for its binding, an original, fifteenth-century binding by Anthony de Gavere, a member of a prominent family of Flemish bookbinders active from 1459 to 1505.  His name is recorded in the inscriptions stamped into the borders of the four decorative panels on the front and back covers.  The two clasps that contain miniatures depicting the Virgin and Child with an angel (upper) and St. Veronica holding the Sudarium (lower) are inscribed on the reverse with the names of John and Agnes Browne to further personalize the manuscript for its owners.

A particularly English miniature in this manuscript is that of St. George, one of the patron saints of England.

One of the fun miniatures in this manuscript is of St. Margaret.  It looks as though someone has tried to erase her face. In fact, it’s most likely that many women in possession of this manuscript kissed the face many times, effectively blurring it.  St. Margaret was swallowed by a dragon and escaped alive when the cross she was carrying irritated the dragon’s insides. St. Margaret, for that reason, is the patron saints of women in childbirth.

Thomas Becket, the Archbishop of Canterbury, was killed by four knights while he prayed at the altar in Canterbury Cathedral on December 29, 1170, supposedly on the king’s orders. For a simple explanation of the situation, he had been arguing with the king, Henry II, over the powers of church and state. Becket was quickly canonized by Pope Alexander III in 1173 and his remains were removed to a phenomenally ornate tomb at Canterbury Cathedral on July 7, 1220. Two feast days were observed in England for St. Thomas Becket: December 29, the date of his death; and July 7, the date of the translation of his remains. The tomb of St. Thomas Becket was visited by pilgrims from all over Europe, and it was the destination for the pilgrims in Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, which was written in English at the end of the fourteenth century, around 200 years after Becket’s death.

Turning to the suffrages of our book Widener 3, or the Browne Hours, we have a full-page miniature of St. Thomas Becket. By royal injunction of November 1538, King Henry VIII of England decreed that images of St. Thomas were to be destroyed. As can be seen in this photograph of the Free Library’s book, the owners at the time couldn’t quite bring themselves to destroy the Becket image. However, they did mark out the text on the opposite page with a graphite pencil. Interestingly, it turns out the Browne family, who lived in Stamford, Lincolnshire, attended the All Saints Church in Market Street, and they were all buried in the St. Thomas of Canterbury chapel there—so the family had a strong feeling toward St. Thomas in particular.  King Henry VIII also wished for the feast days of St. Thomas to be scratched out in the calendars of all books, and both feast days are intact in the calendar for the Browne Hours.

But Henry VIII also decreed that images of the Pope and his trappings should also be scratched out of books.  As can be seen in this image of the Mass of St. Gregory, the triple crown or papal tiara of the Pope has been scratched out, showing that the book’s owners in 1538 did comply with this order.  This miniature is also interesting because it depicts the original owners of the book, John Browne and his wife Agnes, painted into the picture. Browne also had his merchant’s trademark—a heart-shaped base with a small “B” supporting a cross-staff with two chevrons—included in the border decoration to the left of his portrait.

Some images can be seen here for the book in high resolution: