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The funeral cart of St. Arigius


This wall painting from the Chapel Saint-Erige, located in the south of France, depicts the saint (also known as Arigius) being borne in procession by an ox yoked with a bear. The paintings in Saint-Erige are dated October 1451. Saint Arigius himself lived in the sixth century. He was a bishop who was acquainted with Gregory the Great. According to the chapel website:

As bishop of Gap, Erige was coming back from Rome where he had met pope Gregory the Great, when he was attacked by bandits in a place called "Colla Longa" on the other side of the Tinée.

The legend says his horse miraculously cleared the five hundred metres deep valley at one bound and found itself on the plateau of Auron, at the very spot where the chapel has been built.

 

April 30, 2008 at 05:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

On the cause and prevention of the plague

 

ORB: The Online Reference Book for Medieval Studies offers an interesting insight into the supposed etiology and preventative measures suggested at the time of the Great Mortality (The Black Death):

April 29, 2008 at 08:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

The Nuts of Saint Philibert

St. Philibert (c. 608–685) was the founder of Jumièges Abbey. His feast day is either the 20th or 22nd of August, which is the day when hazelnuts are traditionally gathered, and that might very well be the reason that hazelnuts are also called filberts.

April 27, 2008 at 06:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

First glimpses of the Pied Piper

 
The earliest existing account of the Pied Piper of Hamelin is found in the Lueneburg manuscript (c. 1440–50):

Anno 1284 am dage Johannis et Pauli
war der 26. junii
Dorch einen piper mit allerlei farve bekledet
gewesen CXXX kinder verledet binnen Hamelen gebo[re]n
to calvarie bi den koppen verloren

In the year of 1284, on the day of Saints John and Paul
on 26 June
130 children born in Hamelin were seduced
By a piper, dressed in all kinds of colors,
and lost at the place of execution near the hills.

Illustration: "The oldest picture of the Pied Piper copied from the glass window of the Market Church in Hameln/Hamelin Germany (ca.1300-1633) Painting by Augustin von Moersperg (1592)." -- Wikipedia

Everybody else has a theory -- what do you think really happened?

April 15, 2008 at 09:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

A privy nuisance

 

From the Assize of Nuisance [a sort of small claims court] February 10, 1301:

William de Béthune (Betonia) complains that the cess-pit of the privy (puteum cloace) of William de Gartone adjoins so closely his stone wall that the sewage penetrates his cellar (celarium). The def. [defendant] says that he and his ancestors have been seised of  the privy in question time out of mind, and prays that the assize do nothing in prejudice of his free tenement. The pl. [plaintiff] says that long seisin contrary to the statute ought not to prejudice his case. After adjournment the assize comes upon the land on Fri. 3 Mar. 1301, and it is adjudged that within 40 days the def. remove his cess-pit 2½ ft. of masonry (de petra) from the pl.'s wall.

Via British History Online

Image: I did an image search for "medieval cess pit" and that's what I found -- a medieval cess pit. Somebody lost this pretty antler comb down it in the 10th-12th century.

 

April 04, 2008 at 07:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Medieval (and early modern) pranks

Jester

These are some of the practical jokes of the Middle Ages, reported by the Museum of Hoaxes via Unlocked Wordhoard:

The notebook of Thomas Betson, a fifteenth-century monk at Syon Abbey in Middlesex, records his joke of hiding a beetle inside a hollowed-out apple. When the apple began to mysteriously rock back and forth people believed it to be possessed. Other manuscripts include instructions for more mischievous tricks, such as how to make beds itchy and meat appear wormy.

The Secretum Philosophorum, which was a kind of fourteenth-century guide to trickery, offered a recipe for magically transforming water into wine. The trick was to secretly drop pieces of bread into the water, after first soaking the bread pieces in dark wine and then drying them in the sun.

Magical defenses against trickery and dishonesty are also recorded. For instance, a magical method for forcing someone to tell the truth went like this: place the heart and left foot of a toad over a sleeping person’s mouth. When the sleeper awakes they will respond truthfully to whatever question they are asked. Unfortunately, user feedback for this spell was not recorded (though it sounds like something that could be usefully tried at home against an unsuspecting spouse or sibling… or maybe not).

The illustration is from a Brown University website on jesters

April 02, 2008 at 06:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"By reason of dung"

From a proclamation of Edward III of England in the year 1357:

whereas a grievous and great abomination is commonly inflicted upon all the great people, and all others, as well foreigners as natives, who repair to and go within the City, and the suburb thereof, by reason of dung, and other filth and nuisances, boxes, empty tuns, and other articles, lying and placed in the streets and lanes, before the doors of divers folks;—it is ordered, for avoiding such corruptions, and for the decency of the City, and of all who pass therein, that all manner of such nuisances shall be wholly and entirely removed; and that every time after, that such filth and nuisances shall be found, the person before whose door the same shall be, shall pay an amercement of two shillings to the City; and, that he may comply with the same, there shall be levied a good and sufficient distress upon any person so found in default; and further, such things shall be removed at his own proper costs.

March 26, 2008 at 09:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The St. Scholastica's Day Riot

Brew019
Wikipedia sums up the ultimate town-gown confrontation:

The St. Scholastica Day riot of February 10, 1355, is one of the notorious events in the history of Oxford. Following a dispute about beer in the Swindlestock Tavern . . . between townspeople and two students of the University of Oxford, the insults that were exchanged grew into armed clashes between locals and students over the next two days which left 63 scholars and perhaps 30 locals dead. The scholars were eventually routed.

The dispute was eventually settled in favour of the university when a special charter was created. Annually thereafter, on February 10, the town mayor and councillors had to march bareheaded through the streets and pay to the university a fine of one penny for every scholar killed. The penance ended 440 years later, in 1825, when the mayor of the time refused to take part.

The Mark of a Murderer by Susanna Gregory -- one of my favorites -- is a historical mystery that includes lots of interesting details about the riot. In the Afterward, she fills in the missing pieces:

The homes of clerks and townsfolk alike were plundered and burned . . . . The battle continued until virtually all members of the University had been either killed or driven from the city, and only then was peace restored. Retribution came quickly. The town was immediately put under an interdict, which meant no religious ceremonies of any description could be carried out -- no burials, baptisms or masses. This was considered dire punishment, given that religion was far more a part of daily life than it is today, and the threat of Hell and eternal damnation were genuine concerns.

The interdict remained in place for more than a year. . .

And all because Walter Spryngheuse and Roger de Chesterfelde smashed a wine jug over the head of the Swindlestock taverner, John Croidon, because they objected to the quality of their drinks.

The image is from Gode Cookery.com

March 19, 2008 at 06:06 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The scribal terror of St. Patrick

Patrick

From his Confessio:

For some time I have thought of writing, but I have hesitated until now, for truly, I feared to expose myself to the criticism of men, because I have not studied like others, who have assimilated both Law and the Holy Scriptures equally and have never changed their idiom since their infancy, but instead were always learning it increasingly, to perfection, while my idiom and language have been translated into a foreign tongue. So it is easy to prove from a sample of my writing, my ability in rhetoric and the extent of my preparation and knowledge, for as it is said, 'wisdom shall be recognized in speech, and in understanding, and in knowledge and in the learning of truth.'

But why make excuses close to the truth, especially when now I am presuming to try to grasp in my old age what I did not gain in my youth because my sins prevented me from making what I had read my own? But who will believe me, even though I should say it again? A young man, almost a beardless boy, I was taken captive before I knew what I should desire and what I should shun. So, consequently, today I feel ashamed and I am mightily afraid to expose my ignorance, because, [not] eloquent, with a small vocabulary, I am unable to explain as the spirit is eager to do and as the soul and the mind indicate.

But had it been given to me as to others, in gratitude I should not have kept silent, and if it should appear that I put myself before others, with my ignorance and my slower speech, in truth, it is written: 'The tongue of the stammerers shall speak rapidly and distinctly.' How much harder must we try to attain it, we of whom it is said: 'You are an epistle of Christ in greeting to the ends of the earth ... written on your hearts, not with ink but with the Spirit of the living God.' And again, the Spirit witnessed that the rustic life was created by the Most High.

I am, then, first of all, countryfied, an exile, evidently unlearned, one who is not able to see into the future, but I know for certain, that before I was humbled I was like a stone lying in deep mire, and he that is mighty came and in his mercy raised me up and, indeed, lifted me high up and placed me on top of the wall. And from there I ought to shout out in gratitude to the Lord for his great favours in this world and for ever, that the mind of man cannot measure.

Therefore be amazed, you great and small who fear God, and you men of God, eloquent speakers, listen and contemplate. Who was it summoned me, a fool, from the midst of those who appear wise and learned in the law and powerful in rhetoric and in all things? Me, truly wretched in this world, he inspired before others that I could be-- if I would-- such a one who, with fear and reverence, and faithfully, without complaint, would come to the people to whom the love of Christ brought me and gave me in my lifetime, if I should be worthy, to serve them truly and with humility.

March 17, 2008 at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Capers of the undead -- in medieval England

Dansemacabre_2
This is a tale of terror, pestilence, and a very nasty-smelling dead guy who wouldn't stay buried, recounted as fact by William of Newburgh (c. 1136 – 1198):

A certain man of evil conduct flying, through fear of his enemies or the law, out of the province of York, to the lord of the . . . castle [Anantis], took up his abode there, and having cast upon a service befitting his humor, labored hard to increase rather than correct his own evil propensities. He married a wife, to his own ruin indeed, as it afterwards appeared; for, hearing certain rumors respecting her, he was vexed with the spirit of Jealousy. Anxious to ascertain the truth of these reports, he pretended to be going on a journey from which he would not return for some days; but coming back in the evening, he was privily introduced into his bedroom by a maid-servant, who was in the secret, and lay hidden on a beam overhanging, his wife's chamber, that he might prove with his own eyes if anything were done to the dishonor of his marriage-bed. Thereupon beholding his wife in the act of fornication with a young man of the neighborhood, and in his indignation forgetful of his purpose, he fell, and was dashed heavily to the ground, near where they were lying.

The adulterer himself leaped up and escaped; but the wife, cunningly dissembling the fact, busied herself in gently raising her fallen husband from the earth. As soon as he had partially recovered, he upbraided her with her adultery, and threatened punishment; but she answering, "Explain yourself, my lord," said she; "you are speaking unbecomingly which must be imputed not to you, but to the sickness with which you are troubled." Being much shaken by the fall, and his whole body stupefied, he was attacked with a disease, insomuch that the man whom I have mentioned as having related these facts to me visiting him in the pious discharge of his duties, admonished him to make confession of his sins, and receive the Christian Eucharist in proper form: but as he was occupied in thinking about what had happened to him, and what his wife had said, put off the wholesome advice until the morrow -- that morrow which in this world he was fated never to behold! -- for the next night, destitute of Christian grace, and a prey to his well-earned misfortunes, he shared the deep slumber of death.

A Christian burial, indeed, he received, though unworthy of it; but it did not much benefit him: for issuing, by the handiwork of Satan, from his grave at night-time, and pursued by a pack of dogs with horrible barkings, he wandered through the courts and around the houses while all men made fast their doors, and did not dare to go abroad on any errand whatever from the beginning of the night until the sunrise, for fear of meeting and being beaten black and blue by this vagrant monster. But those precautions were of no avail ; for the atmosphere, poisoned by the vagaries of this foul carcass, filled every house with disease and death by its pestiferous breath.

Already did the town, which but a short time ago was populous, appear almost deserted; while those of its inhabitants who had escaped destruction migrated to other parts of the country, lest they too should die. The man from whose mouth I heard these things, sorrowing over this desolation of his parish, applied himself to summon a meeting of wise and religious men on that sacred day which is called Palm Sunday, in order that they might impart healthful counsel in so great a dilemma, and refresh the spirits of the miserable remnant of the people with consolation, however imperfect. Having delivered a discourse to the inhabitants, after the solemn ceremonies of the holy day had been properly performed, he invited his clerical guests, together with the other persons of honor who were present, to his table. While they were thus banqueting, two young men (brothers), who had lost their father by this plague, mutually encouraging one another, said, "This monster has already destroyed our father, and will speedily destroy us also, unless we take steps to prevent it. Let us, therefore, do some bold action which will at once ensure our own safety and revenge our father's death. There is no one to hinder us; for in the priest's house a feast is in progress, and the whole town is as silent as if deserted. Let us dig up this baneful pest, and burn it with fire."

Thereupon snatching up a spade of but indifferent sharpness of edge, and hastening to the cemetery, they began to dig; and whilst they were thinking that they would have to dig to a greater depth, they suddenly, before much of the earth had been removed, laid bare the corpse, swollen to an enormous corpulence, with its countenance beyond measure turgid and suffused with blood; while the napkin in which it had been wrapped appeared nearly torn to pieces. The young men, however, spurred on by wrath, feared not, and inflicted a wound upon the senseless carcass, out of which incontinently flowed such a stream of blood, that it might have been taken for a leech filled with the blood of many persons. Then, dragging it beyond the village, they speedily constructed a funeral pile; and upon one of them saying that the pestilential body would not burn unless its heart were torn out, the other laid open its side by repeated blows of the blunted spade, and, thrusting in his hand, dragged out the accursed heart. This being torn piecemeal, and the body now consigned to the flames, it was announced to the guests what was going on, who, running thither, enabled themselves to testify henceforth to the circumstances. When that infernal hell-hound had thus been destroyed, the pestilence which was rife among the people ceased, as if the air, which had been corrupted by the contagious motions of the dreadful corpse, were already purified by the fire which had consumed it.

The illustration is The Dance of Death (1493) by Michael Wolgemut

February 19, 2008 at 09:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

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