Katherine Uhlir '16

My summer experience focused on relics and reliquaries of early modern English Catholicism. As the recipients of a faculty-student Mellon Grant, Professor Holly Pickett and I spent three weeks in the UK. I acted as her research assistant, discovering the intricate world of academic research as she explored the tactile sensations of sacred pieces of bone, flesh, and fabric that early modern Catholics incorporated into their covert worship. While Professor Pickett's ultimate focus centers on the portrayal of Christianity in early modern English drama, in order to understand the nuances of plays, encountering the contextual history of the period provides invaluable insight into the texts. In the three weeks, we covered over 500 miles of English countryside as we journeyed from the medieval charm of Oxford to the impressive architecture of York to the quaint melancholia of Lancashire to the scenic hills of Durham to the many faces of London. Therefore I feel my "day in the life" only illustrates a fragment of my experience and it provides no representation for the research that was as varied as the cities we encountered.

Despite the intermittent drizzling rain that plagued our visit and set a solemn atmosphere for our days, it was Lancashire, the third stop on our research pilgrimage, that proved richest in troves of relics and tales of occult saints. Tucked away in the Ribble Valley, Hurst Green, Clitheroe, Lancashire boasts a Jesuit college (an English equivalent of a boarding school), Stonyhurst, known for its renowned academics and extensive archives. Even with its famous, commissioned portraits of English lords and rare volumes of Latin plays, the most referenced of Stonyhurst's collections hails from its Jesuit heritage. With hundreds of first-class relics and reliquaries, Stonyhurst claims high prestige in the study of early modern English Catholicism and has paired with the British Museum in past exhibitions of England's divine history. During the two days we spent entombed in the archives of Stonyhurst, Professor Pickett and I, with the guidance of the expert archivist, examined and documented relics famous for more than just religious importance. We beheld such treasures as Mary Queen of Scot's thorn from the Crown of Thorns, alleged to have been a gift from the French royal family upon her marriage to the dauphine; the skull of Cardinal John Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury under Henry VII; and a hat of Sir Thomas More's, appreciated by Catholics for its relationship to the Saint, and by the Worshipful Feltmaker's Company of London for its historic felt design. My personal pivotal moment came in the form of a First Folio of Shakespeare, originally owed and signed by Lord Arundell and now known as the Arundell Folio.

As a Shakespeare enthusiast, I'm familiar with the history behind putting Shakespeare's drama into print for general consumption; from the cheaper quarto versions of the 18 plays that circulated in Shakespeare's life to the expensive and prestigious folios that exposed 36 works after Shakespeare's death, various versions and editions of Shakespeare form an integral part of modern scholarship on the early modern. There are entire theses, books, and lifetimes dedicated to analyzing textual variation from bad quarto to good, from first folio to second. Not to mention: each surviving First Folio is rumored to represent a unique text in its own right, with no two copies exactly the same. During my own, ephemeral, quality time with the Arundell Folio, I noted at least two textual elements that I plan on incorporating into future papers.

Before that special Thursday, June 5, 2014, I had only seen the copy belonging to the Shakespeare Birthplace Trust in Stratford-upon-Avon; firmly fixed on Act 1 of Hamlet, behind glass reflecting the overhead fluorescent lighting, the Folio tantalized me more than it satisfied and I came away unfulfilled and tempted. The reverence and inaccessibility of the First Folio demonstrates the extent of my exceptional experience: spending 45 minutes on my own with the power to turn pages and take pictures is no commonplace affair with a Shakespeare First Folio. I count myself as one of the "happy few" to touch a Shakespeare Folio with my bare hands.