The Grail Code 
Studies for “The Last Sleep of Arthur”
May 1st, 2009

Two of Burne-Jones’ studies for his  “Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon” live in Pittsburgh. You can’t see them, or at least not very easily, because the Carnegie Museum of Art has many times the number of pieces it can display. But you can see photographs of them on line. To avoid even the appearance of impropriety (the Carnegie is jealously protective of its images), I won’t embed them, but I will link to them.

This is a study for the disposition of the central figures. By comparing this study with the finished work, you can see that Burne-Jones had already got the main idea, but made numerous changes by the time he was ready to put the figures on canvas.

This is an architectural study of the pavilion at the center of the painting. Again, the main idea is there, but the proportions changed somewhat in the finished work.

The Carnegie has a few other good Burne-Jones works, of which “The King and the Shepherd” and “The Nativity” are on display now and worth a trip to see.

The Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon
April 25th, 2009

Edward Burne-Jones’ greatest work, The Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon, has been bunging around Europe while its home in Puerto Rico is under restoration. This time Europe is showing some appreciation for old Burne-Jones, and it’s about time.

Toward the latter part of the nineteenth century, artists were beginning to rebel against the insignificance of what they had been taught in their academies. The rebellion ultimately led to abstraction, at first partial and then complete.

Artists have always tended to see paintings in terms of carefully balanced compositions of colors; the things represented in the painting can seem almost incidental. That was especially true in some nineteenth-century academic circles, which produced paintings crowded with realistic reproductions of trivial things.

One possible response to the unimportance of the things themselves is simply to get rid of them. If a painting is a carefully balanced composition of colors, then let us have the colors alone, abstracted from any recognizable picture. Perhaps that way we can produce pure art at last.

Another possible response requires more thought and more work. We can make every detail of the painting significant; nothing represented in it will be trivial or irrelevant. This is the answer of Burne-Jones, who created an allegorical world for his figures to live in.

It’s hardly surprising that medieval romances gave Burne-Jones much of his inspiration. He was drawn especially to the romaces of Arthur, with their layers upon layers of allegory. Like Burne-Jones’ paintings, the romances of Walter Map have no irrelevant details, nothing stuck in just for the sake of color.

The Last Sleep of Arthur in Avalon took Burne-Jones seventeen years, and even then he died before he had quite finished it. They say he was so obsessed with the work that he slept in the pose he gave Arthur in the painting. The more he worked on it, the more he wanted to be in Avalon, the Avalon he was painting, to rest like Arthur. He was working on the painting the day before he died. One wonders what he thought of death when he finally got there, and whether it lived up to his expectations.

Orthodox Easter in Pictures
April 19th, 2009

The BBC has a beautiful slide show of Orthodox Christian Easter celebrations all over the East. It’s worth a few moments to observe these ancient traditions that have hardly changed since the Crusaders bumbled into Constantinople.

A new book
April 7th, 2009

Mike and I have another book out from Word Among Us. It’s called Praying the Psalms with the Early Christians, and our delightfully utilitarian title should give you a good idea of what it’s all about. A good selection of psalms, each one illuminated with meditations from early Christian writers. What all these great minds have in common is that they all see Christ everywhere in the Psalms. In all our laudable historical correctness, our entirely praiseworthy quest to understand the Psalms as the original audience understood them, we often forget that they are also the first and greatest Christian hymn-book.

It must be Dan Brown time again…
March 24th, 2009

…which means once again that it’s time for our little book to hover around the periphery of the current news. It’s terribly, terribly exciting! I grant that the book has been out for a while, but the proof that The Grail Code is always timely comes with this press release from Loyola, which is reproduced below.


Light Shed on Christian Truths Behind Holy Grail Fictions

Since the early Middle Ages, storytellers have continually reworked and renewed the powerful Grail myth, but behind this resonant symbol lies a profound Christian meaning that remains vital despite countless incarnations. And this meaning, according to The Grail Code: Quest for the Real Presence is found in humankind’s eternal desire to experience the Real Presence of Christ.

(Vocus/PRWEB ) March 24, 2009 — Curiosity and controversy surrounding the Holy Grail reached a fever pitch after Dan Brown’s bestselling novel The Da Vinci Code. Since the early Middle Ages, storytellers have continually reworked and renewed the powerful Grail myth, but behind this resonant symbol lies a profound Christian meaning that remains vital despite countless incarnations. And this meaning, according to The Grail Code: Quest for the Real Presence (Loyola Press, $15.95, paperback), is found in humankind’s eternal desire to experience the Real Presence of Christ.

The Grail Code: Quest for the Real Presence
The Grail Code: Quest for the Real Presence

As authors Mike Aquilina and Christopher Bailey explain, what drives all the Holy Grail stories is the yearning to know Christ, and the promise of communion with the divine. This spiritual thirst has kept the Grail fixed in the Christian imagination for centuries.

Rather than offer a critique of the “sacred feminine” ideas found in The Da Vinci Code and other works, Aquilina and Bailey chart the evolution of the Holy Grail as a complex literary theme rooted in Biblical history, born at the moment that Jesus raises his cup to the disciples at the Last Supper. The story continues through the Dark Ages, when the memory of Christianity’s most sacred relic mingles with Celtic lore telling of charmed cups and cauldrons offering uncanny power. The various strands meet in the aristocratic courts of medieval Europe, where court writers such as Chrétien de Troyes conjure the Holy Grail that modern audiences would recognize, the one at the center of King Arthur’s legendary reign. Arthur’s world becomes an elaborate Christian allegory, in which the Knights of the Round Table quest for the Grail, learning through their struggles that, no mere piece of treasure, the Grail promises the grace of God, a blessing for the faithful rather than a prize for the bold.

Combining the theologian’s instructive voice with the ardor and pacing of a master storyteller, The Grail Code appeals to readers who wish to better understand the perennial spiritual meaning behind the Grail myth and the reasons why we are driven, in literature and in life, to reach for the divine. The Grail Code also offers Catholics an invaluable guide that empowers them to engage the popular culture—without falling prey to “Grail nonsense.” For this purpose, the authors have included an afterword addressing the more fanciful Grail fictions currently in circulation, as well as recommendations on where readers can continue their exploration of the Grail.

Mike Aquilina is author of a dozen books on Christian history, doctrine, and devotion. He is vice-president of the St. Paul Center for Biblical Theology and has been co-host of five popular television series.

Christopher Bailey has worked as a writer, editor, translator, and researcher for more than 15 years. His articles have appeared in Touchstone, Columbia, New Covenant, The New Catholic Encyclopedia (Second Edition), and elsewhere. Schooled in the great-books tradition, he has spent many years in close study and translation of the Arthurian texts.

The Grail Code: Quest for the Real Presence
By Mike Aquilina and Christopher Bailey
Loyola Press
ISBN: 978-0-8294-2159-0, Paperback $15.95

The Departure of the Knights
March 7th, 2009


Click on the image to enlarge it.

Off on a jolly adventure, the knights who have sworn to seek the Holy Grail say their farewells to the ladies of the court. Although they have been warned by the usual convenient holy man, few of the knights understand how serious this quest is, or how many of them will never come back from it. This is another tapestry (see also “The Failure of Lancelot“) designed by Burne-Jones for William Morris and company; again, I regret that I have it only in black and white from TapestriesTheir Origin, History, and Renaissance, by George Leland Hunter.

The Scuderies
February 17th, 2009

There are better books, deeper books, more profound books, and more instructive books, but there is no better book for wasting a rainy afternoon with than Isaac Disraeli’s Curiosities of Literature.

The father of Benjamin Disraeli, the famous potboiler novelist and occasional prime minister, Isaac Disraeli was the sort of man who knew a little bit about practically everything. When he put together his enormous collection of literay trivia, he must have spent quite a bit of time trying to come up with the perfect organizaion for it. At last he hit on the happy notion of giving it no organization at all, and that is the form in which we have it today: the perfect rainy afternoon’s entertainment.

A while ago I had some things to say about Mlle de Scudery. After that, I ran across this little portrait of her and her brother in Disraeli, and I decided it might be amusing to some people who had read what I had to say about her. I think the critics Disraeli quotes are right: that one of the chief impediments to our enjoying Mlle de Scudery’s romances is not any lack of merit in the works themselves, but our lack of leisure to spend six months of full days, including Sundays, reading a single book.


The Scuderies.

Bien heureux Scudery, dont la fertile plume
Peut tous les mois sans peine enfanter un volume.

Boileau has written this couplet on the Scuderies, the brother and sister, both famous in their day for composing romances, which they sometimes extended to ten or twelve volumes. It was the favourite literature of that period, as novels are now. Our nobility not unfrequently condescended to translate these voluminous compositions.

The diminutive size of our modern novels is undoubtedly an improvement: but, in resembling the size of primers, it were to be wished that their contents had also resembled their inoffensive pages. Our great-grandmothers were incommoded with overgrown folios; and, instead of finishing the eventful history of two lovers at one or two sittings, it was sometimes six months, including Sundays, before they could get quit of their Clelias, their Cyrus’s, and Parthenissas.

Mademoiselle Scudery had composed ninety volumes! She had even finished another romance, which she would not give the public, whose taste, she perceived, no more relished this kind of works. She was one of those unfortunate authors who, living to more than ninety years of age, survive their own celebrity.

She had her panegyrists in her day: Menage observes—”What a pleasing description has Mademoiselle Scudery made, in her Cyrus, of the little court at Rambouillet! A thousand things in the romances of this learned lady render them inestimable. She has drawn from the ancients their happiest passages, and has even improved upon them; like the prince in the fable, whatever she touches becomes gold. We may read her works with great profit, if we possess a correct taste, and love instruction. Those who censure their length only show the littleness of their judgment; as if Homer and Virgil were to be despised, because many of their books were filled with episodes and incidents that necessarily retard the conclusion. It does not require much penetration to observe that Cyrus and Clelia are a species of the epic poem. The epic must embrace a number of events to suspend the course of the narrative; which, only taking in a part of the life of the hero, would terminate too soon to display the skill of the poet. Without this artifice, the charm of uniting the greater part of the episodes to the principal subject of the romance would be lost. Mademoiselle de Scudery has so well treated them, and so aptly introduced a variety of beautiful passages, that nothing in this kind is comparable to her productions. Some expressions, and certain turns, have become somewhat obsolete; all the rest will last for ever, and outlive the criticisms they have undergone.”

Menage has here certainly uttered a false prophecy. The curious only look over her romances. They contain doubtless many beautiful inventions; the misfortune is, that time and patience are rare requisites for the enjoyment of these Iliads in prose.

“The misfortune of her having written too abundantly has occasioned an unjust contempt,” says a French critic. “We confess there are many heavy and tedious passages in her voluminous romances; but if we consider that in the Clelia and the Artamene are to be found inimitable delicate touches, and many splendid parts, which would do honour to some of our living writers, we must acknowledge that the great defects of all her works arise from her not writing in an age when taste had reached the acmé of cultivation. Such is her erudition, that the French place her next to the celebrated Madame Dacier. Her works, containing many secret intrigues of the court and city, her readers must have keenly relished on their early publication.”

Her Artamene, or the Great Cyrus, and principally her Clelia, are representations of what then passed at the court of France. The Map of the Kingdom of Tenderness, in Clelia, appeared, at the time, as one of the happiest inventions. This once celebrated map is an allegory which distinguishes the different kinds of Tenderness, which are reduced to Esteem, Gratitude, and Inclination. The map represents three rivers, which have these three names, and on which are situated three towns called Tenderness: Tenderness on Inclination; Tenderness on Esteem; and Tenderness on Gratitude. Pleasing Attentions, or, Petits Soins, is a village very beautifully situated. Mademoiselle de Scudery was extremely proud of this little allegorical map; and had a terrible controversy with another writer about its originality.

George Scudery, her brother, and inferior in genius, had a striking singularity of character:—he was one of the most complete votaries to the universal divinity, Vanity. With a heated imagination, entirely destitute of judgment, his military character was continually exhibiting itself by that peaceful instrument the pen, so that he exhibits a most amusing contrast of ardent feelings in a cool situation; not liberally endowed with genius, but abounding with its semblance in the fire of eccentric gasconade; no man has portrayed his own character with a bolder colouring than himself, in his numerous prefaces and addresses; surrounded by a thousand self-illusions of the most sublime class, everything that related to himself had an Homeric grandeur of conception.

In an epistle to the Duke of Montmorency, Scudery says, “I will learn to write with my left hand, that my right hand may more nobly be devoted to your service;” and alluding to his pen (plume), declares “he comes from a family who never used one, but to stick in their hats.” When he solicits small favours from the great, he assures them “that princes must not think him importunate, and that his writings are merely inspired by his own individual interest; no! (he exclaims) I am studious only of your glory, while I am careless of my own fortune.” And indeed, to do him justice, he acted up to these romantic feelings. After he had published his epic of Alaric, Christina of Sweden proposed to honour him with a chain of gold of the value of five hundred pounds, provided he would expunge from his epic the eulogiums he bestowed on the Count of Gardie, whom she had disgraced. The epical soul of Scudery magnanimously scorned the bribe, and replied, that “If the chain of gold should be as weighty as that chain mentioned in the history of the Incas, I will never destroy any altar on which I have sacrificed!”

Proud of his boasted nobility and erratic life, he thus addresses the reader: “You will lightly pass over any faults in my work, if you reflect that I have employed the greater part of my life in seeing the finest parts of Europe, and that I have passed more days in the camp than in the library. I have used more matches to light my musket than to light my candles; I know better to arrange columns in the field than those on paper; and to square battalions better than to round periods.” In his first publication, he began his literary career perfectly in character, by a challenge to his critics!

He is the author of sixteen plays, chiefly heroic tragedies; children who all bear the features of their father. He first introduced, in his “L’Amour Tyrannique,” a strict observance of the Aristotelian unities of time and place; and the necessity and advantages of this regulation are insisted on, which only shows that Aristotle’s art goes but little to the composition of a pathetic tragedy. In his last drama, “Arminius,” he extravagantly scatters his panegyrics on its fifteen predecessors; but of the present one he has the most exalted notion: it is the quintessence of Scudery! An ingenious critic calls it “The downfall of mediocrity!” It is amusing to listen to this blazing preface:—”At length, reader, nothing remains for me but to mention the great Arminius which I now present to you, and by which I have resolved to close my long and laborious course. It is indeed my masterpiece! and the most finished work that ever came from my pen; for whether we examine the fable, the manners, the sentiments, or the versification, it is certain that I never performed anything so just, so great, nor more beautiful; and if my labours could ever deserve a crown, I would claim it for this work!”

The actions of this singular personage were in unison with his writings: he gives a pompous description of a most unimportant government which he obtained near Marseilles, but all the grandeur existed only in our author’s heated imagination. Bachaumont and De la Chapelle describe it, in their playful “Voyage:”

Mais il faut vous parler du fort,
Qui sans doute est une merveille;
C’est notre dame de la garde!
Gouvernement commode et beau,
A qui suffit pour tout garde,
Un Suisse avec sa hallebarde
Peint sur la porte du château!

A fort very commodiously guarded; only requiring one sentinel with his halbert—painted on the door!

In a poem on his disgust with the world, he tells us how intimate he has been with princes: Europe has known him through all her provinces; he ventured everything in a thousand combats:

L’on me vit obeïr, l’on me vit commander,
Et mon poil tout poudreux a blanchi sons les armes;
Il est peu de beaux arts où je ne sois instruit;
En prose et en vers, mon nom fit quelque bruit;
Et par plus d’un chemin je parvins à la gloire.


Princes were proud my friendship to proclaim,
And Europe gazed, where’er her hero came!
I grasp’d the laurels of heroic strife,
The thousand perils of a soldier’s life;
Obedient in the ranks each toilful day!
Though heroes soon command, they first obey.

‘Twas not for me, too long a time to yield!
Born for a chieftain in the tented field!
Around my plumed helm, my silvery hair
Hung like an honour’d wreath of age and care!
The finer arts have charm’d my studious hours,
Versed in their mysteries, skilful in their powers;
In verse and prose my equal genius glow’d,
Pursuing glory by no single road!

Such was the vain George Scudery! whose heart, however, was warm: poverty could never degrade him; adversity never broke down his magnanimous spirit!

The Failure of Lancelot
February 16th, 2009
The Failure of Sir Lancelot

Click on the image to enlarge it.

This tapestry—The Failure of Sir Lancelot, by Burne-Jones, Morris. and Dearle—must be glorious in color, but I have it only in black and white from a 1912 book called TapestriesTheir Origin, History, and Renaissance, by George Leland Hunter. The design, at least, is striking. The Holy Grail was one of Edward Burne-Jones’ favorite subjects; here he illustrates Lancelot’s closest approach to it. The Grail Mass is going on inside the chapel, but Lancelot sleeps through it, dimly aware that he is missing something terribly important but unable to stir.

Of course, the failure is only a step on the road to ultimate success. Lancelot dies a holy death, welcomed into heaven, where the feast of the Holy Grail goes on eternally. His failure here awakens his sense of unworthiness, and understanding our own unworthiness—our incapability of achieving the Grail without God’s grace—is the first step in becoming worthy. Our most disappointing failures are usually divine providence hard at work for our benefit.

The miracle of death
February 13th, 2009

<meta content=" 2.4 (Linux)" name="GENERATOR" /><br /> <style type="text/css"> <!-- @page { size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in } P { margin-bottom: 0.08in } --> </style> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">My old pal Death has been hanging around quite a bit lately, calling to various friends and relations, waiting patiently for them to make up their minds.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">It happens that I heard a rather good sermon on miracles yesterday, so I’ve been thinking about death and miracles.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Very often when someone we love is dying we pray for a “miracle”—something that will somehow prevent the death. But isn’t death sometimes—or even very often—the miracle we’re really praying for?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Fatal diseases, or potentially fatal ones, can be very unpleasant and unsettling. The pain may be unbearable, and the indecision and ignorance can be paralyzing. How do we fight the disease? Can it be fought at all? Should we give up the fight and focus on managing the pain? How can we possibly make a decision like that?</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">But then comes death, and the pain and confusion give way to peace and clarity. All must die; the question is merely when. Now, for that one particular case, we know the answer.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">A good death really is a miracle. Time intersects with eternity, and one soul makes the trip from one to the other. Peace and clarity can come just before death; nurses who have a lot of experience with these things tell me it’s not just possible, but probable. A Lutheran pastor told me that he has seen many people who had no faith or religious formation, who could not bring themselves even to think of death because it filled them with dread, suddenly show a peaceful and even happy serenity as death approaches, as though they had been granted a certainty that the rest of us are not ready for. These are miracles.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">The story of every human life ends with death—but only for us, earthbound as we are. We can glimpse eternity from far off, but we can’t make out the details of it.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">The story of Lancelot’s Grail quest quite properly ends with his death, since his story is the story of every human life. And his death is suitably miraculous.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">Remember that Lancelot’s sin destroyed, not just his friendship with Arthur, not just Arthur’s and Guinevere’s marriage, but the world. That was the consequence of his sin: the whole world of Camelot was broken in pieces. Lancelot spent the rest of his life—not a terribly long time—repenting of that sin. It took the destruction of everything he loved to bring him to repentance, but his repentance was honest and real.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">This is the real miracle: a death that leads from despair to peace, from doubt to certainty, from death to life. Sometimes our friends are saved from the brink of death by the intervention of doctors, or by inexplicably miraculous recoveries; but those are little miracles, hardly worthy of the name, when we stack them up against the miracle of a good death. We should remember that when we pray “your will be done,” and we should pray it with the complete conviction that God’s will is more wonderful than anything we can possibly imagine.</p> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in"> <p style="margin-bottom: 0in">[I wrote this article two weeks ago, and since then the miracle we were waiting for has come to pass. Looking back on what I wrote, I can see nothing to change, and I give thanks that I was led not only to accept the inevitable, but to embrace it, however imperfectly and unwillingly.]</p> </div> <p class="postmetadata">Posted in <a href="" title="View all posts in Blog Posts" rel="category tag">Blog Posts</a> | <a href="" title="Comment on The miracle of death">238 Comments »</a><hr> </p> </div> <div class="post" id="post-184"> <b><a href="" rel="bookmark" title="Permanent Link to Maybe the Grail isn’t in Iceland after all"> Maybe the Grail isn’t in Iceland after all</a></b><small><br> October 6th, 2008 <!-- by Christopher --> </small> <div class="entry"> <p>Shhh! Be vewwy, vewwy quiet! I’m hunting Gwails!</p> <p>I’m still going to talk more about Mrs. Lennox and the romances of Mlle de Scudery, but first a brief diversion.<br /> <a href="">Mr. Adrian Murdoch points us</a> to the <a href="">news of the latest Grail hunt</a>, this time led by a cryptographer named Giancarlo Gianazza. He’s hunting Grails in Iceland, although so far without success.</p> <p>Why Iceland?  Well, because the clues <em>all</em> point there.</p> <blockquote><p><font size="2">In Botticelli’s “Primavera” a series of numeric symbols form the date March 14, 1319, which somehow supports Gianazza’s theory, and in da Vinci’s “Last Supper” Gianazza believes to have found outlines matching the landscape at Kjölur.</font></p> <p><font size="2">Further clues were found in Dante Alighieri’s “Divine Comedy” and an ancient Icelandic script states that poet and politician Snorri Sturluson was accompanied by “eighty armored Eastmen” at the Althingi parliament in 1217, who could have been the Knights Templars. </font></p></blockquote> <p>So, to sum up the evidence: A painting by Botticelli gives us a date, which of course means Iceland, and Da Vinci’s <em>Last Supper,</em> which we rather naively thought was a picture of the Last Supper, is actually a map of part of Iceland, and–here’s the clincher–the Knights Templars actually went to Iceland. Because who else would be both armed <em>and</em> from the “east”?</p> <p>I must confess that, to my non-cryptographically-trained eye, this looks like a bunch of conspiracy-theory nonsense. Conspiracy theories work by confirmation bias. You get an idea in your head, and you start looking for evidence to support it. And sure enough it’s <em>everywhere!</em> Of course, your brain, rejoicing immoderately over the molehills of evidence you’ve dug up with such labor, ignores the mountains of evidence on the opposite side.</p> <p>I think the Holy Grail is hidden in Pittsburgh. Why? Consider the evidence:</p> <p>1. The city of Pittsburgh just celebrated its 250th anniversary this past weekend. <em>250 is a big, round number.</em></p> <p>2. Leonardo’s <em>Last Supper</em> uses many triangular elements in its composition. Downtown Pittsburgh is built on the “Golden Triangle.” Coincidence? <em>That’s what they’d like you to believe!</em></p> <p>3.  <a href="">St. Anthony’s Chapel</a> in Troy Hill has the largest collection of relics in the world. Frankly, if you were looking for the Holy Grail, it would be hard to think of a better place to start.</p> <p>4. The Knights of Columbus have a chapter in Pittsburgh. <em>I always get the Knights of Columbus and the Knights Templars mixed up.</em></p> <p>I see only one reasonable course of action: some Grail-lover with deep pockets needs to give me a grant to look for the Grail in Pittsburgh. Just make the check payable to Christopher Bailey. I’ll keep an eye out as I wander around here and there, and if I happen to see any Grails, I’ll let you know.</p> </div> <p class="postmetadata">Posted in <a href="" title="View all posts in Archaeology" rel="category tag">Archaeology</a>, <a href="" title="View all posts in Conspiracies" rel="category tag">Conspiracies</a>, <a href="" title="View all posts in Real Grail?" rel="category tag">Real Grail?</a> | <a href="" title="Comment on Maybe the Grail isn’t in Iceland after all">10 Comments »</a><hr> </p> </div> <div class="navigation"> <div class="alignleft"> <a href="" >« Previous Entries</a> </div> <div class="alignright"> </div> </div> </div> </td> </tr> </table> </td> <td width="175" valign="top" bgcolor="#CCCCCC"> <div align="center"> <p><a href=""> <img src="" width="100" height="160" border="0"></a></p> <p><a href="/index.php"><em>Home</em></a><em><br> <span class="sdbar"> <li class="page_item page-item-16"><a href="" title="About the Authors">About the Authors</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-2"><a href="" title="About the Book">About the Book</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-119"><a href="" title="An International Gallery">An International Gallery</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-113"><a href="" title="Grail Art">Grail Art</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-27"><a href="" title="How to Order the Book">How to Order the Book</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-78"><a href="" title="How to Pronounce Those Impossible Welsh Names">How to Pronounce Those Impossible Welsh Names</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-10"><a href="" title="Links">Links</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-4"><a href="" title="Reviews">Reviews</a></li> <li class="page_item page-item-6"><a href="" title="Scriptorium">Scriptorium</a></li> </span> </em> <p><strong><em><font size="2">Archives<br></font></em></strong> <span class="sdbar"> <li><a href='' title='May 2009'>May 2009</a></li> <li><a href='' title='April 2009'>April 2009</a></li> <li><a href='' title='March 2009'>March 2009</a></li> <li><a href='' title='February 2009'>February 2009</a></li> <li><a href='' title='October 2008'>October 2008</a></li> <li><a href='' title='July 2008'>July 2008</a></li> <li><a href='' title='April 2008'>April 2008</a></li> <li><a href='' title='January 2008'>January 2008</a></li> <li><a href='' title='December 2007'>December 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='November 2007'>November 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='October 2007'>October 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='September 2007'>September 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='August 2007'>August 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='July 2007'>July 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='June 2007'>June 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='May 2007'>May 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='April 2007'>April 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='March 2007'>March 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='February 2007'>February 2007</a></li> <li><a href='' title='December 2006'>December 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='November 2006'>November 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='October 2006'>October 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='September 2006'>September 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='August 2006'>August 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='July 2006'>July 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='June 2006'>June 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='May 2006'>May 2006</a></li> <li><a href='' title='April 2006'>April 2006</a></li> </span></p> <p><a href=""><font size="2">RSS Feed</font></a></p> </div> </td> </tr> </table> <table width="100%" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding="6"> <tr> <td height="18" bgcolor="#666666"> <div align="center"><font color="#FFFFFF" size="2"><em>(C) 2006 Mike Aquilina and Christopher Bailey</em></font></div></td> </tr> </table> </td> </tr> </table> </div></td> </tr> </table> <div align="center"> <br> </div> </body> </html>