Medieval Mondays: Saint Lucy with her eyes on a plate

Perhaps it's because I wasn't raised Catholic, but I still do a double take at some of the images of saints. Take Saint Lucy, for instance, who is commonly portrayed holding a pair of eyes on a plate, as you can see in this Spanish painting from the late 15th or early 16th century.

They're actually her eyes, despite the fact that in this picture she has a pair of perfectly good ones in her head. Hey, she's a saint, she can do that sort of thing.

Saint Lucy or Lucia was a Christian martyr who lived from 283-304 and was killed during the great persecution of Christians under the Roman emperor Diocletian. Like many Christian martyrs, she was killed after refusing to make sacrifices to the Imperial cult.

She was said to have been killed by a sword, but a much later tradition grew up that she had her eyes gouged out first. In another story, she took out her own eyes because they were so pretty they were attracting unwanted attention for this woman who taken a vow of chastity. Today Saint Lucy is venerated as the protector of good sight.

Medieval Mondays: Gilded Leather

Before there was wallpaper there was gilded leather. Wealthy homeowners would decorate their walls with panels of leather such as these.

Gilded leather has its origins in Libya, where it was first developed around the 6th century. By the 9th century it had made it to Spain. It was slow to spread north of the Pyrenees. Eventually it caught on in the Low Countries and became popular in the 17th and 18th centuries.

Gilded leather is a bit of a misnomer. It's actually leather covered with a silver foil. To keep the silver from oxidizing a varnish was applied that gave it a golden color.

These photos were taken at the Plantin-Moretus Museum in Antwerp, Belgium. This old printing company dates back to the 1550s and is filled with some fascinating old printing presses, antiquarian volumes, and of course walls decorated in gilded leather!

Medieval Mondays: Why Did Leprosy Disappear from Europe?

They are one of the enduring images of the Middle Ages. With their horrible open wounds and missing fingers, lepers caused fear and revulsion wherever they went. In some places, they still do. While leprosy is hard to catch, the simple medicine of the time didn't know this and had no cure. A disease so horrible, people thought, must be contagious.

It was also considered a judgement from God. In some areas, lepers were forced to stand in an open grave as a priest declared them dead. They were forbidden from living in towns or cities and had to wear bells in order to warn people of their presence.

Leprosy was widespread, with up to one in 30 people affected in some areas. But by the 16th century it was disappearing. Why?

A recent archaeological research project set out to answer this question. A team of archaeologists and biologists exhumed the bones of medieval lepers and sequenced the DNA of five strains of the leprosy bacteria. They found no significant difference between medieval leprosy and the strains still found today in Asia. The disease hadn't become any less virulent, so why did it die out?

It appears it was the victim of its own success. People have a genetic level of resistance to particular diseases. Those who were most susceptible died from it and didn't pass on their genes. Leprosy was one of the few grounds for divorce in medieval Europe. Only those individuals who had stronger resistance to leprosy remained, and thus the disease all but died out in Europe.

Medieval Mondays: The Curious Weapons of Henry VIII

Henry VIII ruled England from 1509 to 1547 and was famous for overfondness for eating and bumping off wives. It's often forgotten that he was a capable military leader who turned the British navy into something that would be respected the world over for the next 500 years.

As a man of military interests, he collected a large variety of weapons and armor. Many of them are now in the Royal Armouries, including these two strange weapons.

The first is a what's called a Holy Water Sprinkler, basically a heavy spiked club. This one has an extra feature, though. Included in the head are three short pistols. You can see the touch hole for one of them in this photo.

Another example is this metal buckler with a pistol. Firearms were just coming into their own at this time, developing from the medieval handgonne to superior matchlock and wheellock weapons. The shield is richly engraved and like the Holy Water Sprinkler doesn't appear to ever have been used. In fact, there's no record of these combination weapons ever being issued to troops. They do look cool, though, and are tempting to add to a story sometime!

A new historical fantasy novel

Historical fantasy author Sean McLachlan has come out with his latest novel. Called The Quintessence of Absence, it's out now on Amazon, Amazon UK, and Smashwords. The blurb goes:

Can a drug-addicted sorcerer sober up long enough to save a kidnapped girl and his own Duchy?

In an alternate 18th century Germany where magic is real and paganism never died, Lothar is in the bonds of nepenthe, a powerful drug that gives him ecstatic visions. It has also taken his job, his friends, and his self-respect. Now his old employer has rehired Lothar to find the man's daughter, who is in the grip of her own addiction to nepenthe.

As Lothar digs deeper into the girl's disappearance, he uncovers a plot that threatens the entire Duchy of Anhalt, and finds the only way to stop it is to face his own weakness.


Congratulations, Sean!

Medieval Mondays: Sunstone found in English shipwreck

In a previous post I talked about the Viking sunstone, a legendary crystal that could detect the location of the Sun on cloudy days. This, of course, would be a boon to navigation in the age before GPS.

Sunstones are mentioned in some Viking sagas and historians have theorized they were double-refracting crystals such as cordierite, tourmaline, or calcite, which are common in Scandinavia. These crystals only allow light through them that's polarized in certain directions and thus appear darker or lighter depending on the polarization of the light behind it. While the Sun may be blocked by clouds, it's still sending out a concentration of polarized light that can be detected by the crystal as it's moved around.

But that's only a theory. No sunstone has ever been found. . .until now.

A team of French archaeologists studying artifacts from a British ship that sunk in 1592 found a rectangular block of Iceland spar calcite crystal, a type known for its double-refracting properties. The wreck was near Alderney island in the English Channel.

You can see the sunstone in this picture, next to a pair of dividers that may have been used for navigation. Both items were found close together in the wreck.

It's interesting that the sunstone was found on a ship dating centuries after the Viking era. It looks like these things were more popular than anyone ever suspected.

Photo courtesy Alderney Society.

Medieval Mondays: A Medieval Snowball Fight!

I love it when medieval art humanizes the distant past. This is a fresco on a wall in Buonconsiglio castle, Trento, Italy. It dates to about the year 1400. It's part of a series of paintings done by a Bohemian master called the "Cycle of the Months" showing the activities for each month.

As you can see, this is quite clearly a snowball fight! I wonder when the first snowball fight was? Did the Neanderthals chuck snowballs at each other?

Photo courtesy Terra Italia.

Medieval Mondays: Previous popes who have resigned, part two

Last week, I talked about the early popes who resigned, or at least are said to have resigned. The records are scarce for the early Papacy. In this second of my two-part post, we're on firmer ground in the Middle Ages.

The most colorful pope from the last post was Pope Benedict IX, who turned the Vatican into a giant block party and got bribed to resign in 1045. The guy who bribed him, who then became Pope Gregory VI, soon had to resign himself. While everyone appreciated his getting rid of Benedict, he had committed the sin of simony--paying for holy offices. So in 1046 he had to go.

For a time the Popes managed to keep their office until their death. There wasn't another resignation until Pope Celestine V in 1294. Celestine only spent five months on the throne of St. Peter before he decided the job wasn't for him, issued an edict saying it was OK for popes to resign, and left to live the life of a hermit.

His successor, Pope Boniface VIII, worried that he might change his mind and so he threw Celestine into prison, where the hermit-turned-pope-turned-hermit died ten months later. Celestine was later canonized and Boniface was lampooned by Dante in his Divine Comedy.

The next resignation came when Pope Gregory XII stepped down. This was a time of deep schism in the Church. Two rival popes had set themselves up at Avignon and Pisa. Both had considerable support. Kingdoms lined up to put their weight behind one pope or another. World War One looked like it would break out 500 years early.

The Church Council of Constance met in 1414 to avert disaster. Gregory and the pope from Pisa agreed to step down in 1415. The Avignon pope refused and was excommunicated. The Council then elected Pope Martin V.

From then on no pope has resigned, until this week.


Image of Pope (later Saint) Celestine courtesy Marie-Lan Nguyen.

Medieval Mondays: The Globus Cruciger, proof that people knew the world was round before Columbus

There's a popular belief that people didn't know the world was round back in the Renaissance and that it took a brave explorer named Christopher Columbus to prove them wrong. Supposedly everyone warned Columbus not to sail out into the Atlantic because he'd fall off the world's edge.

Of course my readers are smart enough to know this isn't true, but the story has widespread appeal. Anyone who has studied history knows that the Classical Greeks had already proven that the world is round and that knowledge wasn't lost among the educated.

Proof of this can be found on many medieval coins and statues. A traditional mark of Imperial or royal power was the Globus Cruciger, a globe with a cross on top of it to show that the Christian God ruled over the world and that the ruler was his representative on Earth. The globe, of course, symbolized the Earth.

Yep, a globe!

The earliest use of the Globus Cruciger for a ruler is found on the coins of the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius II, who ruled from 408 to 450 AD. You can see one above. The cross-and-globe was a popular symbol throughout the Middle Ages and Renaissance and continues to be used in royal courts to this day. To the right you can see an illustration of Charles II of Hungary made in 1488, four years before Columbus made his first voyage.

So the idea that the world was round was plainly visible in the royal court and on many works of art and currency. Of course a lot of common, uneducated people back then probably did think the world was flat!

Photos from Wikimedia Commons.

Medieval Mondays: Ottonian Ivory

One of my favorite artistic movements of the Middle Ages was the creation of ivory miniatures during the Ottonian Renaissance (c. 951 – 1024). Launched by the German Ottonian dynasty, this was a flowering of art and culture heavily influenced by the earlier Carolingian Renaissance and contemporary Byzantine artistic styles. The Ottonian kings ruled over much of Germany and Italy and called themselves the "Holy Roman Emperors", a title used by many rulers before and since.

The renaissance encompassed all forms of art but I've always been most impressed by the ivory miniatures ever since I first saw them in the British Museum and the Victoria & Albert in London. The photo above is of a diptych made in Trier at the end of 10th century. It shows two scenes: Moses receiving the Ten Commandments and The Doubting Thomas.

This is a situla, a bucket for holding holy water. It's carved with twelve scenes from the Passion of Christ arranged in two rows and was probably made around 980 for the visit of Emperor Otto II to Milan.

This also comes from Milan around 962-973 and was donated to Magdeburg Cathedral by Otto I. It depicts the Flagellation of Christ.

All images courtesy Wikipedia.

Medieval Mondays: The Iron Arm of Götz von Berlich

"I will crush you."

The German knight Götz von Berlich (c.1480-1562) had a nasty reputation. The veteran of numerous battles, he estimated that he had fought 15 feuds in his own name and many others for friends. In 1525 joined the German Peasant's revolt and led the peasants against the Holy Roman Empire.

"The peasants are revolting, and I'm revolting too!"

Perhaps he got his bad attitude when he lost his right hand and forearm during the siege of Landshuf in 1504. A cannonball hit his sword, making it swipe down to cut off his own limb! That's enough to put anyone in a permanently bad mood.

Luckily, craftsmen in this period were skilled at making prosthetics for just such occasions. They made him an iron limb that could open and close it fingers, so it could still be used in battle. He became known at Götz of the Iron Hand. His hand was so well made it could even hold a pen. Perhaps he used it when he wrote his memoirs.

Just goes to show that the late Medieval/early Renaissance period was more sophisticated than we generally believe.

Images courtesy Wikipedia.

Archaeologist discovers witchcraft site on her front lawn

As an archaeologist, I'm always wondering what's under the land I'm walking on. I've had the privilege to live next to a Roman road, on a Mesolithic camp site, and near a Bronze age burial mound. That's not too exceptional if you live in England.

Archaeologist Jacqui Wood in Cornwall, however, has me beat. When she decided to do some construction on her land she found evidence of witchcraft rituals dating back centuries. She's uncovered a series of pits dug into the earth that were filled with swan skins covered in feathers. The skins had been turned inside out so that the feathers lined the pit.

One of the pits included not only the swan skin, but the claws of several different species of bird and pebbles found only on the coastline at least 15 miles away. Another pit had 55 eggs sitting on top of the swan-feather lining, including seven feathers that were ready to hatch. Magpie remains had been placed on either side of the eggs. Some of the pits had been emptied but still had a few feathers and stones remaining to show what had been there.

Radiocarbon dating found that the earliest swan skins dated to the 1640s during the English Civil War. Eerily, others dated as recently as the 1950s. One even had plastic in it!

Wood also discovered a spring-fed pool lined with white quartz so that it would glow in the moonlight. As offerings, the locals had thrown in strips of cloth, nail cuttings, heather branches, pins, and bits of shoe.

I'm not well versed in paganism, so I'll put it out to my readers. Anyone know what these rituals could have been for?

Maybe next she'll find a witch bottle!

Religious intolerance during the Reformation

As I mentioned in my post about Muslim depictions of Muhammad, the use of images in the rivalry between religions is nothing new. This image is from the Reformation, when Europe was being torn apart between traditional Catholics and those who wanted to reform the Church. This led to the foundation of several Protestant sects, and several wars and revolutions that killed hundreds of thousands.

This Protestant engraving shows devils shitting out monks and priests. Yes, it's pretty offensive. It just goes to show that the wars over faith have been going on a long time.

Irish castle for sale: a bit of a fixer-upper but a bargain at €75,000

If you're like me, you've always dreamed of living in your own castle. Well, if you happen to have €75,000 ($97,850) you can! It's called Ballyfinboy Castle and it's an easy commute from Limerick, Ireland.

The castle was built around 1480. The first record of the castle was when it was captured in 1599. The owner, Phillip Kennedy, and men were all put to the sword and the castle was broken up enough that it could never be used again.

That's where YOU come in. Sure, it needs some work, but wouldn't it make a nice home? You even get two-and-a-half acres of land and a nice Sheela-na-gig, locally known as "the Dancer", positioned high up one of the walls. Hit the link to find out more about these interesting carvings. The castle is for sale from Premier Properties Ireland. You can see more photos on their website and also here.

Dutch homeowners slapped with surprise medieval tax

This story gives the saying "going Dutch" a whole new meaning.

Homeowners living near the 13th century Renwoude castle east of Utrecht in The Netherlands have been given a surprise tax to renovate the castle. Thirty households in the village of Kamerik have been given a tax totaling one million euros ($1.25 million).

The tax, known as the "dertiende penning" or "13th penny" dates back many centuries to when the area around Utrecht was uncultivated. People who wanted to buy land had to pay their feudal overseer a percentage of the purchase price.This tax has been waived for many years, perhaps centuries, but now the noble family that owns Renwoude is enforcing it to pay for renovations.

The residents, needless to say, are fighting the tax.

Medieval Mondays: Fuddling cups and puzzle jugs

We haven't changed all that much. Many people like to drink, and those who do like to play drinking games. Our ancestors seemed to enjoy drinking games that got them to spill booze all over themselves.

This is a fuddling cup. These cups are all connected with tubes and holes designed in a clever way that there's only one angle you can pour it into your mouth without it spilling out another part and getting all over you.

Sounds fun, doesn't it? Especially in the days before washing machines. There was no hiding the fact that you were at the pub when you got home!

Fuddling cups were known in the eighteenth century and perhaps date before then. Another variant is the puzzle jug. It looks like a normal jug with several holes in the neck. Like with the fuddling cup you have to drink from it without spilling.

The trick is that the fluid goes through a ceramic tube leading from the bottom to the spout past several holes. You have to plug those holes with your fingers in order to get a clean drink.

Many puzzle jugs, like this white one from Liverpool, bears the poem, "Here Gentlemen come try your skill,
I'll hold a wager if you will,
That you don't drink this liquor all,
Without you spill and let some fall."

Puzzle jugs seem to be later than fuddling cups, dating to the 18th and 19th centuries. I haven't found any serious studies of these cool items from the past, though, so this may not be correct.

These contraptions would fit well into one of my fantasy tales somewhere. . .

Medieval Mondays: The Oldest Bras in the World

I try to give you lots of interesting information in my Medieval Mondays posts. Apparently everyone is most interested in the oldest condom in the world because that's by far my most popular post. So in the same vein, here's the oldest bra in the world. It was found in an Austrian castle a few years ago along with three others. They came to light during an excavation at Lengberg Castle in East Tyrol and were found amidst a pile of other clothing in a vault that was sealed off in the late 15th century. It was previously thought that bras didn't date before the 19th century, although there are vague references in medieval literature to “bags for the breasts” or “shirts with bags". I couldn't find any copyright-free images of these bras, so I'm embedding a new story from YouTube on them. Like most TV news stories, this one has a mistake. The second piece of clothing they show, which looks like a set of women's panties, isn't a bra and isn't even a women's garment. It's male underwear. According to an article on Medievalists.net, only men wore underpants because it was a sign of "male dominance and power." Why? I'm not so sure. I guess it's more that women didn't wear underwear and that made them vulnerable to knights with no sense of chivalry.

Medieval Mondays: Mass grave from the Battle of Lützen being excavated

Archaeologists are excavating a mass grave from the Battle of Lützen, a 1632 battle in Germany that was a turning point in the Thirty Years War.

The team has found an estimated 75 skeletons, all male and apparently stripped since no artifacts or traces of clothing have been found. The bones will be analyzed to find cause of death, health, and age. Isotope analysis will determine where they originated from. At the moment it is unknown which army the grave represents.

The Battle of Lützen was fought between the Protestant army of Sweden under the famous general Gustavus Adolphus and the Catholic army of the Holy Roman Empire. It was unusual in several ways, the first being that it was fought in November, when most Renaissance armies preferred to be in winter quarters.

It was also unusual in that the Protestants won the battle and lost in the long term. After a hard fight they broke the Catholic army, which fled in partial disorder. Gustavus Adolphus, however, was cut down by Catholic cavalry and with his genius for leadership and strategy gone, the Protestant cause lost much of the wind from its sails. Sweden lost its prime place in the Protestant coalition, although the war ended in the Protestants' favor.

Medieval Mondays: the Hexamilion wall

The Hexamilion is the thin black line across the Isthmus

Medieval Mondays is actually on Tuesday this week because yesterday I participated in the Origins blogfest. Thanks to all those who stopped by!

Genre Author follower and occasional guest blogger Sean McLachlan has been traveling in Greece lately for his travel blog Gadling and writing a series of posts. Some of them are of interest to fans of the Middle Ages, such as the castle of Acrocorinth, the Athens War Museum, and the Byzantine ghost town of Mistra. His writing about medieval Greece gave me today's subject--the Hexamilion Wall.

As you can tell from the name, this was a six-mile long defensive wall. It stretched across the Isthmus of Corinth, the only land route into the Peloponnese, the southwestern part of Greece. This obviously strategic point had been fortified since ancient times, and a major wall was erected during the fifth century AD when Germanic tribes were terrorizing the Roman Empire. It was strenghtened in the seventh century and then gradually allowed to decline.

The Hexamilion became important again in the waning years of the Byzantine Empire. The Ottoman Turks were closing in and the Byzantines were anxious to protect the Peloponnese (hten called the Morea) because it was the only wealthy province left to them. In 1415, Emperor Manuel II Palaeologos had it repaired and improved into an impressive fortification with thick walls and numerous towers. This didn't stop the Turks, though, who smashed through it in 1423. It appears there was little fighting; the garrison was so outnumbered and demoralized that most of them ran. The Haxamilion was repaired, but breached again in 1431. Both attacks were raids and the Ottomans did not remain in the Morea.

Constantine Palaeologos, then Despot of Morea and destined to be the last Byzantine Emperor, repaired the wall, but to no avail. In 1446, the Turks came back, this time with a large amount of artillery. Constantine had garrisoned the wall with 20,000 men, but many were Albanian mercenaries who could not be relied upon. After two weeks of bombardment, the Turks stormed the walls and cut down the defenders. Constantine survived, but his wall and his army were destroyed. Sultan Murad signed a treaty with the Byzantines stipulating that the wall would not be repaired.

Not much left!

When Murad died and the warlike Mehmet took the Ottoman throne, the Byzantines repaired the wall anyway. Mehmet's armies easily passed through in 1452. A year later the Byzantine capital Constantinople fell and the Emperor Constantine was killed in action. The Morea held out until 1460, but now the Hexamilion was in ruins and failed to even slow the Turks down.

The Hexamilion was a great idea that didn't work. The Byzantines could never garrison it with sufficient numbers of quality troops to face down the large and disciplined Ottoman army. Little remains of it today. For more on the Hexamilion, check out this cool website about the excavations being carried out there by Ohio State University.


Both images courtesy Wikipedia.

The Green Man: Pagan or Christian?

 We’ve all seen them—those strange faces peering out through foliage in odd corners of churches. They look out of place in such a setting—apparently pagan iconography in a Christian building. Who was The Green Man, and why does he decorate churches?

While the Green Man was commonly seen carved into buildings in ancient Rome, the term was actually coined by a folklorist in 1939. The figure died out with the end of the Classical era and didn’t reappear until the eleventh century.

We have no direct evidence for what these figures mean; the stonemasons who carved them and the church leaders who commissioned the carvings haven’t left us records of why they chose this motif. Some people, especially modern neopagans, like to see the Green Man as a pagan survival sneaking into Christian territory. While the Christian church did co-opt many elements of paganism, such as turning ancient gods into saints, the long gap between their use in the Roman Empire and their reappearance in the Middle Ages argues against this. One suggestion is that it’s a foreign motif brought in by international trade. Although there are Green Man figures in places like India, there’s no direct evidence for the import idea.

 For clues to its meaning we need to look at Medieval and Renaissance society. The vast majority of people were farmers, and there were large tracts of wilderness that the people looked on with a mixture of interest and fear. A man draped in foliage brings to mind the springtime, a time of joy and optimism for the farmer, a time when hormones run wild. The church’s wealth depended on land and it was often the largest landowner in the area. Celebrating the spring as a time of blessings and abundance from God makes sense in a Christian context.

On the other hand, the Church always warned against the licentiousness of the season, and the pagan dances and rituals that sprang up in the villages at this time of year. The 8th century theologian Rabanus Maurus said they symbolized the sins of the flesh and that the Green Man was a doomed soul. Perhaps, but this was only one interpretation. Contrary to popular belief, the medieval Church was a testing ground for a number of ideas and a variety of local practices.

Thus the Green Man was a tricky symbol, one of both hope and danger, a bit like another favorite motif, the Wild Man. This probably explains why he's generally not put in prominent places, but rather high up on arch supports or on roof bosses. He acts as secondary decoration rather than the first thing that catches the eye like a large stained glass window or gold altar.

Many of the Green Men we see in England today actually date from the Victorian era, a time of elaborate decoration and celebration of nature. The Green Man fit in perfectly to Victorian sensibilities. It was only then that the Green Man started appearing in large numbers outside of churches. Thus the Green Man, contrary to his appearance, was actually a Christian symbol.