Christine de Pizan

Around 1400, the most famous woman author was Christine de Pizan (or Pisan, both short for Pizzano, south of Bologna, Italy). Christine spent her life at the French court, originally moving there as an infant when her father was hired as the court physician. She spoke—and wrote—in medieval French, not Latin.

Fifty years earlier, the most disruptive event of its era had taken place: the first emergence of the plague now known as the Black Death. King Charles V, who hired Doctor de Pizan, had been a 12 year old entering an arranged marriage during 1350, the year the plague struck so hard in northern Europe. His marriage had been private because public ceremonies were too dangerous, and the prince himself may have suffered a bout of the plague and then recovered. The plague came back ten years later, carrying off two of his three babies. A few years after that, Doctor de Pizan, also a survivor of the plagues, came to Paris.

The plague visitations began a period of rapid social change. Education broke down for a while, probably leading to more writing and publishing in the “vulgar” tongues of medieval English, French and German. Peasants, legally tied to the land, could earn much more in the depopulated economy, so they began uprisings to demand change. The church had to change; people who are keenly aware of death don’t want a perfunctory religion. As feudalism broke down, so did some traditional social roles. Christine, raised at court during this period, helped to push forward a re-examination of women’s identity.

Christine was almost certainly educated at home; we don’t know the extent of her learning, except that she was very literate. She was married at 15 to the king’s secretary, but he died (probably of the plague) when she was 25. She should have been provided for, but her husband’s money got tied up in a lawsuit and never arrived. Christine’s father was probably gone by then, so the whole de Pizan family depended on her next actions.

Christine began writing love ballads; she knew many noblemen and women, and they liked her work and commissioned her to write love ballads specifically for them. By 1399, she was fully supporting her family with prolific poetry output.

Christine had also been thinking a lot, and she did not like the beliefs about women portrayed in the literature of the previous century. Since 1275, the most popular book had been Le Roman de la Rose, the Romance (or Novel) of the Rose. The Rose stood for women’s sexuality, and the work was essentially satirical. It took “courtly love,” the anti-marriage love concept of the troubadors, as truth about human nature. It portrayed women as deeply sensuous, manipulative, and cold. Marriage was a trap.

Christine wrote a letter to the Chancellor of the University of Paris, Jean Gerson. Gerson, son of a peasant family, was trying to rewrite theology for the new, more challenging time. She appealed to Gerson to agree with her that the Roman de la Rose was slandering women, who could be virtuous, rational humans. Their correspondence caught the attention of others, and eventually the letters (in verse) were collected as first one book, then a second.

Christine had a powerful patroness in mind. Isabeau, Queen of France, was ruling as regent after her husband developed paranoid schizophrenia. Isabeau’s political enemies used the “courtly love” tropes to attack her character. They said her dresses were too revealing and they claimed she was sleeping around the court. Christine de Pizan’s defense of women as basically human, rather than basically wicked, pleased Isabeau.

Christine wrote some long poems about women, writing about an imaginary City of Ladies. She argued that women need to sharpen their rhetorical skills to make peace among themselves and between men. Her last published work, written when she was 65, was a formal praise of Joan of Arc: God had chosen to use a woman to deliver the nation. She probably died soon after, around 1430, just as the Italian Renaissance prepared the way for even more radical ideas.

Posted in Black Death, Literature, Medieval cycle of life, Women | Tagged , , | Comments Off on Christine de Pizan

Heloise d’Argenteuil, an educated medieval woman

Following on my profile of the life of a male university graduate, I want to profile two highly educated women of the Middle Ages, whose lives turned out quite differently. First, since I mentioned her yesterday, Heloise d’Argenteuil. What we know about Heloise is fairly limited.

We know her story mainly because many years after Peter Abelard’s fall from grace, he felt drawn to tell his sad story to a fellow Abbot who also had a tragic life. His letter to Philintus got passed on to someone who still had contact with Heloise. Heloise, agitated and now having his current address, wrote to him; they exchanged five letters. (link to all of these letters)

We don’t know what her family was like; a line in her letters suggests that she was middle-class at most. She was probably an orphan; she may have been an oblate child who chose not to take orders. She grew up at a convent in Argenteuil, and from an early age proved a brilliant scholar. They taught her Latin and Greek; she also learned Hebrew. It’s not clear to me whether convents had Hebrew scholars at that time; I’d like to construct a back story in which Heloise begged her nearest relative, Canon Fulbert, to take her to Paris where she could study with Jewish Hebrew scholars for a while. We do know that she was living with Canon Fulbert when the known story begins.

We also don’t know how old she was. We assume she was very young, but on the other side, she was a famous scholar of Latin, Greek and Hebrew, which takes time. There’s one line in a letter that hints she may have been older than we assume. She was somewhere between 18 and 28.

Heloise wanted to continue her education, but she could not enroll at the University of Paris in the 1100s. Peter Abelard, Paris’s most famous teacher of philosophy, met her. After years of scholarly celibacy, he suddenly wanted this particular woman. He asked Canon Fulbert if he could stay in his house and tutor  niece Heloise in the remaining university subjects such as philosophy and medicine.

Heloise was an unusually strong-willed, free-thinking woman. She had turned away any offers of marriage; in my fictional back-story, she also turned down taking orders in the convent. She wanted to live as an independent adult, reading and living as she wished. It’s clear that although she loved Abelard passionately, the initiative to start a sexual relationship was his. Since he was living in the same house, he had plenty of opportunities. In her first letter to him, she recalls that they were quite innovative in their lovemaking. Abelard dropped celibacy in favor of aggressive sensuality.

Abelard lost interest in his former career and began writing so many love poems that soon the entire city was talking about them. Canon Fulbert found out and kicked him out. Abelard began trying to bribe her servants to get word to Heloise to run away with him. Finally, the singing teacher took the bribe, and Heloise managed to tell Abelard she was pregnant. He took her away to his sister’s house in Brittany.

Heloise gave birth to a son, and she became the forerunner of all those Hollywood celebs who call their kids Moonbeam. She named her son Astrolabe, which was the new technology device. The name was every bit as weird as it sounds. Astrolabe lived out his life in Brittany, probably; little is known. (He never knew his mother, but it’s possible that he met his father since he was living with his paternal aunt.)

Heloise was set against marriage still. She declared that she was proud to be his whore! But Abelard married her to placate Fulbert. Then he had a problem: his career required the marriage to be kept secret. He placed Heloise temporarily at the convent where she’d grown up, though apparently he still not only visited her but had sex on the table that was in the visit room. Fulbert believed that he had only married her to cast her off, and now he was truly furious. He paid a gang of thugs to break into Abelard’s rented room and castrate him (without benefit of actual surgery). Abelard survived.

Now Abelard did a cowardly thing. Heloise promised to be his true wife, but he was jealous, thinking “she loved sex so much, surely she’ll eventually do it with someone else.” So he ordered her, as a husband, to take convent orders right there in front of him. Then he left. He himself entered monastic orders. Eventually he got someone to create a convent just for Heloise to be Abbess, so she was provided for.

When Heloise got Abelard’s address after many years, she wrote to him with a broken heart still full of love, begging him to come see her, as they were still husband and wife. He refused, and he now disavowed their former love, saying he’d only been after her body. Heloise gradually calmed down, and in her letters, she mainly asked him to explain salvation and God’s love to her. She had always been an intellectual believer, and she had no devotional love to carry her through this forced vocation. Their letters became a dialogue on faith, and then they fell silent.

When Heloise died, 20 years after Peter Abelard, she was buried next to him. Later they were given a joint tomb at Pere Lachaise.

Posted in Literature, Medieval cycle of life, Women | Tagged | Comments Off on Heloise d’Argenteuil, an educated medieval woman

Early medieval ladies

This post is a follow-up to an earlier one about the lives of castle ladies.

Prior to 1100, medieval ladies didn’t have castles, they had halls. There was one key difference that completely shaped the lady’s life. That is, instead of stone walls and moats, they had only the defense of loyal fighters. The walls were human.

In those days, realms were much smaller so there were many kings in northern Europe. A poem like Beowulf doesn’t bother distinguishing between one kind of lord and another; they are in command of a hall, a tribe, and many men: that’s all that matters. That’s a lord. His lady was a queen (even the word has changed little with time).

One of the key reasons that medieval lords married only among the aristocracy is that the queen’s job required years of training, and that training was only to be found in a queen’s household. Of course there were other reasons, such as making alliances with another tribe, but those reasons didn’t always work out well.

Girls in a ruling household were raised to know that someday they would marry another ruling lord, and from the first day they arrived in the new household, they had to be prepared for the role. Perhaps as young as 14 or 15, they would be handed a ring of keys. Each key fitted the lock of a storage chest, and all of the chests had daily uses. The most important one held the lord’s treasure, and yes, she had the key.

The treasure was loot that came in on raids. In a pre-coin society, silver rings were the “coin” of trade, but they were also trophies to be handed out in public. The lord could do this, but it was really the queen’s job. During a feast, she would make speeches and hand out treasure, honoring men who had done some feat for the ruler. Receiving honor this way was the highest possible value for men in the tribe.

The queen’s job was to keep the peace among the men. She was to watch for jealousy and try to placate it with gifts and honor. She could not allow private dislikes of her own to interfere. She was in an especially tight place if a powerful warrior made sexual advances on her, since she probably needed to keep that information very private. If her lord felt the need to punish the man, he had lost a valuable ally and perhaps made a fatal enemy. A former insider enemy was always the worst kind.

When the lord had gone away to war, or even just on a few days’ hunt, the queen was responsible for defending the hall. Some queens led desperate last stands, fending off attackers and fire. Any decisions she made during the defense were final, as though the lord had made them.

There’s a great story about an English Saxon queen in approx. the 500s, before they had converted to Christianity. She was the queen/princess of her own tribe, not yet married; she made a marriage agreement with a teenage prince of the Franks (on the continent). Gifts had been exchanged, which made it legally binding, but they had never seen each other. His political situation shifted, and he was pressured to marry a different princess on the continent. When the English princess heard of it, she was not willing to just forget the gift agreement. She had a brother who raised a war band and crossed the channel to pursue the young Frank. They captured him alive and tied him up until she could arrive in person (she may have been right there with the war band). She addressed the teenage boy, saying, “What cause did you have to dislike me? Why did you betray me? Now revoke this second alliance and come back to me.” He did. Procopius, the source of the story, says they were married and lived on in a reasonably normal way.

The young queen knew that it was extremely important to force an outside tribe to honor an agreement. If she had signaled weakness, they could have been attacked by others.

One last important task for the queen: keeping secrets. Loose lips sink ships. The queen was taught from girlhood never to complain or share confidences. A wrong word from her could sink the tribe, since she knew exactly how much treasure was in the chest, and who had shouted angry words at her lord in private.

Posted in Castles, Medieval cycle of life, Women | Tagged , | Comments Off on Early medieval ladies

Medieval law school in England

This entry fits into the “Medieval Cycle of Life” series first posted in January and February of 2013. It belongs in the set of entries that describe the growth of the medieval university: Beginning University, Living at A College, Notes on University Life

Most landowners owned many different types of property; they chose to live on one or two of them, but their income came from all of them. Every time a man made his will, he had to make tough choices about which properties stayed with the oldest son. A family’s income was based on a collection of farms, fields and houses that might be claimed by other family members. Lawsuits among relatives and disputes over someone’s right to sell land were very common. These disputes could last for years and bridge over generations.

Landowners were wise to make sure that their sons were educated in law. Often, the point wasn’t to become a lawyer as a profession. Rather, it was to use the law to defend the family’s property. As time went on, hundreds of wealthy families’ sons went to the city to learn.

Universities taught canon law, but priests were forbidden to teach secular law after 1200. A student began at a college, studying canon law (which was very important for family law). Where was he to learn practical law?

Legal practices changed dramatically between the 1200s and 1400s. In most of the medieval period, royal courts in England traveled around the provinces. These temporary moving courts were called “eyres.” The king himself moved in a circuit, through his realm and among his residences. But the king himself didn’t hear most cases; instead, he had magistrates among his officials, and they handled most of it. This is basically the reason we have a double meaning for “court.” It’s the group of people around a king, and it’s also the place where a judge hears cases. In 1200, the two were the same.

After the Magna Carta stand-off, John’s son Henry III tried to reform the court system, but it wasn’t done in any thorough way. As the eyre system broke down with royal inconsistency and changing customs, more cases were heard in London, at the Royal Court at Westminster. I don’t know why, but King Henry III outlawed legal education within London’s city limits, in 1234.

Near Westminster, just outside the city limits, lawyers rented large houses in the town of Holborn. This provided a place for provincial lawyers to stay when “court” was in session. Their “inns” became known as the Inns of Court.

The first ones were associated with the Knights Templars, then the Knights Hospitallers after the Templars were banned. The Templars hired lawyers who lived nearby, and their complex of buildings became known as the Temple. They lived and worked there, and gradually they took students.

The two other Inns that emerged from the medieval mix of various rented houses are still the names of law schools in London: Gray’s Inn and Lincoln’s Inn. Like medieval colleges, after starting just as residences, they became schools in their own right with libraries and classes.

Provincial students learned the manners of the court and city. They read case law and watched trials, learning how to argue and speak. They stayed as long as their families would support them, learning as much as the family needed. There was no graduation, and at that time, no bar exam. It’s possible that the “bar,” a wooden barrier to keep people back, was not even in use yet. Probably, there was no rule to prevent anyone from arguing before the judge; the question was only whether he’d do it badly.

Posted in Medieval cycle of life | Tagged , | Comments Off on Medieval law school in England

What medieval children died from

In January 2013, I began a series on the medieval “cycle of life,” beginning with birth and ending with death. I didn’t include a piece on child mortality, so I want this entry to be considered as part of the older series, with “Toys” and “Starting School.”

I can’t put the causes of death in any significant order; I’m sure that some scholarship based on English parish death records could make estimates. Here, I’ve just listed them as they came to mind.

1. House fire. All houses except castles were build of flammable material, though they tried to plaster over the wood or wattle on the inside and outside. A poor family’s house plaster was less likely to be in good repair, since the parents put every waking hour into making ends meet. Even then, the mud-plaster having straw and dung mixed in, it was not exactly fireproof. Houses burned fast and often a sleeping child was trapped inside.

2. Falling into a well. You know the classic look of a wishing well, with a stone wall, a little roof, a crank with a rope and bucket? Well, those didn’t exist yet. All of those things are improvements for clean water and no drowning, and it was the Middle Ages that proved the need. Wells at this time were just holes. Maybe some had a wooden cover to keep out rain water. To use the well, you stood at the edge, hoping it wasn’t slippery from rain or spilled water, and you lowered your own bucket. Women fell in frequently, and tag-along children even more frequently.

3. Falling into the river. Any women who lived near a sizable creek or small river saved the step of hauling water for laundry by just doing their laundry at the water’s edge. This was safer for them than the well, but it didn’t work well for little children. Often, the river had a steep bank, not a gentle ford or beach. In a city, the river had buildings that went right up to and out over the water’s edge. These buildings included docks and piers, warehouses and taverns, and some lodging. They also included outhouses; if you watched “Slumdog Millionaire,” you saw the same set-up along the slum’s water’s edge: a shack with a hole in the floor, and feces floating around. Children slipped and fell into rivers in any and all of these settings.

5. Infectious disease, including much of what we vaccinate babies against.

6. Simple infections. Infections of the ear, eye, or tooth. Infections of cuts and wounds. Infections of the lungs, following on viral colds. Tetanus.

7. Famine, though often famine just weakens the body so that it dies of #5 or #6. Since food was all “locavore,” if the region’s crop was rained out, or if late frost killed buds, there was just less to eat that year. Every now and then, bad year followed bad year. In the early 1300s, some severe famines lasted as many as 7 years. In those severe famines, about 1 in 10 didn’t make it to see good harvests.

8. Wandering animal attacks. On a typical day, a medieval wife tending her cradled or toddling baby kept her hut’s door open, since there were no windows and she needed daylight. If something called her away from her seat in the open doorway, then the child could be left untended, especially if he was asleep in a cradle. The worst animal offenders were pigs, who were kept half-wild. They looked like wild boars, not like the pig in Charlotte’s Web. They foraged for most of their food, eating acorns in the forest and garbage in the town. Sometimes a boar wandered in and ate the baby. In places where this had happened frequently, they hung cradle-boards on the wall, but cradles on the floor remained the norm.

9. Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. That includes everything unexplained, like heart problems, digestive failure, infant cancer, and birth defects. Defects like having six fingers or webbed hands were known and feared. But most babies with defects just didn’t make it, because in addition to the visible, there is something invisible like an immune system problem.

10. True freak accidents. Kicked by a horse; hit by a falling tree; injured by a tool that flew out of a workman’s hand.

Child mortality was, to say the least, high.

Posted in Medieval cycle of life | Comments Off on What medieval children died from

Medieval imported gems

The most popular gemstone in the world today is the diamond. We expect fine jewelry to have few colors, or possibly even none at all. The most expensive tiaras are so encrusted with diamonds that they appear to be pure white. This, however, was not medieval Europe’s idea of fine jewelry.

Through most of the Middle Ages, of course, the Islamic empire in one form or another controlled and guarded trade with the East. Imported gemstones mostly came from or through their territories, often by ship between India and the Arabian and Egyptian ports. Egypt itself had a large deposit of emeralds. Rubies came from India, sapphires from Ceylon and Persia. Persia also sent turquoise and lapis lazuli; some turquoise came from Tibet, one of the more distant points on the Silk Road. Most garnet came from Russia, probably traded through Constantinople.

Diamonds had to be imported from India and Africa, but that alone would be a point in their favor, since scarcity and cost were as important then as now. But until the late Middle Ages, gems were mounted uncut. If you look at the Oppenheimer Diamond, which is displayed in the Smithsonian, you can see why uncut diamonds did not catch on. It’s white and yellow, but it doesn’t refract light the way we’ve come to expect by seeing only cut diamonds. The other imported gems had vibrant colors that served as decoration even in round, polished form. Only diamonds have no real decorative value until they’re cut.

The first diamond cutters’ guild was established in 1375, in Nuremberg, Germany. Because Germany had such rich minerals in its mountains, it became the leader in all things having to do with metals, minerals and early chemistry. Diamonds’ greatest value may have been as cutting tools, more than as jewels. In fact, that may be where the tradition of diamond rings came from: a ring with a cut diamond could be used to write on glass.

Pearls were naturally polished and did not need to be cut; they could be mounted on jewelry or strung as beads. Some rivers in Scotland, of all places, contained mussels that made small pearls. But the finest pearls, and by far the most, came from outside Europe. The Mediterranean coast along North Africa had pearl beds, and the Persian Gulf had even more. The Crusader kingdoms spurred increased importation of pearls into Europe.

Posted in Coins and Jewels | Comments Off on Medieval imported gems

Europe’s other native gemstones

In addition to amber, Europe had immediate access to seven more gems. Some were actually native, others were imported but from within the ancient Mediterranean trading circuit.

Garnet is the second chief gemstone native to Europe. Like amber, it’s found around the world, but Bohemia had a large vein of deep red garnet. Red stones in early European jewelry are probably garnet, not rubies. As I’ll discuss more when talking about imported gemstones, medieval jewelers polished garnet, but did not cut it into facets as we do now.

Jet may have been the next most common gemstone. It’s really wood petrified into a very hard coal that can be polished. It was found in many parts of England, as well as in other parts of Europe. Whitby, in England, was the best-known medieval source. Its product was called “Whitby Jet.” Nobody was yet aware of coal’s value for energy; they saw it merely as a glossy black stone.

Beryl was also native to Europe, but not in its most valuable form, the emerald. Beryl’s crystal is by nature colorless, but it takes on color from other elements. For example, iron tints it to Aquamarine. It can also come in red, green, various blues, and golden. Only some of the colors we have today, mined in Africa and South America, were available in medieval Europe. Probably most of their beryl was golden or aquamarine blue.

Quartz isn’t valuable, but it’s pretty. Medieval jewelers could use it for a diamond-like effect, but nobody valued colorless gems as much as colored ones. Diamonds were not the peak favorite gem, as they are now, so imitating diamond was not important.

Coral came from the African side of the Mediterranean. Coral was believed to have natural magic, capable of protecting the wearer against lightning and other dangers. For those who could afford decorative stones for their children, coral was a top choice, since children needed extra protection against danger. Coral formed bead strings, including rosary strings (for counting prayer repetitions).

There were a number of minor “gemstones” of varying value. Europe didn’t have a good source of pearls, but some rivers—oddly, in chilly Scotland—-produced small pearl-making mollusks. A fossilized fish tooth, called Toadstone, was believed to come out of a toad’s head. It polished to a nice brown, but its main value was for luck.

Chalcedony, a kind of agate, gave Europe a number of minor gems: jasper, carnelian, onyx and others. Its most famous use was in making cameos. A mineral with layered colors could be carved in relief so that one color formed the figure (usually a portrait) while the other was a contrasting background. A higher surface layer might provide additional color to the carved figure. Making cameos was not an active art in medieval Europe (excluding Italy), but Roman cameos could be discovered in ruins around England and France. Roman cameos found this way were highly prized as jewelry. Medieval jewelers incorporated Roman cameos into contemporary designs without an eye to preserving them as found.

Posted in Coins and Jewels | Comments Off on Europe’s other native gemstones

Amber: Europe’s chief native gem

Constantinople, standing at the crossroads of continents, always had access to imported gemstones. But Northern Europe depended mainly (and for a long time) on its native gems. Chief among them: amber, traded since the Stone Age.

Amber was cut, polished and drilled into pendants and beads. Chips of amber were set into gold brooches, with colored glass and other gemstones. Amber could be the gemstone in a ring or on earrings. Like other medieval gemstones, it was never cut into facets as we do now. It was round and polished, prized mainly for its bright color.

Baltic amber is honey-colored and translucent. When it’s heated (or drilled with a hot needle to create a bead), it gives off a distinct smell of pine resin. It really is fossilized pine resin, occasionally containing some insects or bits of other plants. Amber is found around the world, and its color worldwide can vary from gold to brown, red and black and even, more rarely, green and blue.

The largest known deposit of amber is in the area now called Kaliningrad, a Russian enclave between Poland and Lithuania. In the past, this area was known as Prussia, and before that, it had other names. The region remained pagan, outside the civilized network of Europe, until late in the Middle Ages. It was never an impoverished, starving outback, though, because since Stone Age times, its people could always depend on a market for their yellow stones.

Lithuanians call it “gintaras,” and Russians say, similarly, “yintar.” Something like “yintar” is probably what the early medieval miners and traders called it, perhaps as far back as the Bronze Age. But as the honey-colored gem traveled farther away, it developed some other significant names.

Pliny reports that the Roman-era Germanic tribes called it something like “glass.” Anglo-Saxons called it “glaer.” The word probably meant “resin” (as did “yintar”). We no longer refer to amber this way, but translucent resin appears to be the origin of our word for glass.

Modern English’s word “amber” was adopted in the Middle Ages and apparently it meant something like “beach glass.” Amber (from Arabic anbar, referring to perfume) was one of two valuable substances that could be picked up on the beach. Amber gris (grey amber) came from sperm whales and was used in perfume; amber jaune (yellow amber) is the fossilized pine gem but could also be used for perfume making. They may have been considered different colors of the same substance; they were certainly both collected to sell to perfumers in the city. Only later did “amber” come to mean only the gemstone.

In Classical times, amber was traded as far away as Greece (and probably much farther). In Greek, it was called “elektron,” relating its color to the sun. The myth of Phaeton, who foolishly drove the sun’s chariot, included the detail that his grieving sisters turned to trees and these golden drops were their tears. Persians called the gem kahruba, and this word was borrowed into Arabic (anbar had been about perfume, not gems). In Arabic, kahrabah came to mean electricity; of course, we easily recognize the same meaning in the Greek name.

Amber’s molecular structure allows it to pick up a static electric charge easily. Since furs were the other main export from the Baltic forests of Prussia, traders would have realized very early that rubbing amber on fur creates a crackling, flickering charge. Amber was used in early experiments with creating electrical charges. This is why the name of amber in Greek and Arabic became the basis for talking about electrical charges. Later experiments used glass and silk, but now we see that “glass,” too, has some indirect reference to amber.

 

 

Posted in Coins and Jewels | Comments Off on Amber: Europe’s chief native gem

Wearing Anglo-Saxon saucer brooches

In my book, A Companion to Beowulf, there is an artist’s reconstruction of how the brooches and beads might have been worn.

At Pannebaker Press’s website you can see a discussion of how we came to decisions about them, with preliminary sketches.

All we know about saucer brooches comes from their position in a grave. There aren’t any contemporary pictures of women or men wearing them. When they’re found in a grave, they are always in pairs, positioned near the skeleton’s chest and shoulders. The ground shifts over time, and after many centuries the flesh and cloth that held them in place is quite gone, so it’s hard to tell just what they were pinning.

Most artists base sketches of saucer brooches on Viking-age aprons, presuming that the brooches pinned shoulder straps to the apron. We tried this idea out, but it didn’t feel right for the 6th century in a king’s feast hall. Instead, we used the brooches first as pure decoration, with strings of beads between them.

Our final development sketch was based on a practical guess about the climate and fabric weight. If a wool cloak or veil was positioned at the back of her body, to cover her head, back, and shoulders, the brooches may have acted as counter-weights to balance the fabric. The mantle or cloak may have been pinned to the dress underneath, or not; the brooches themselves, pinned to the cloak, might be heavy enough to keep it from falling back.

The artist had some amateur experience with historical costumes and knew that heavy cloaks tend to drag backwards. The wool’s weight pulls whatever is clasping it tighter against the wearer’s throat. If the cloak were pinned to the woman’s dress, it might have pulled the neckline of the dress uncomfortably against her throat. Saucer brooches were heavy enough that pinning them to a dress, alone, would make them, too, drag downward. So what if the wool’s weight and the brooches’ weight evened out, making it effortless for the wearer to keep her back warm and her arms free, with the mantle ready to pull around her if she needed to step out into the frosty air for a few minutes?

This use would explain the strands of amber and glass. They aren’t full necklaces, instead they just show off a necklace-like effect at the front of the costume. The rest of the necklace would be lost in the folds of the cloak.

Posted in Coins and Jewels, Women | Comments Off on Wearing Anglo-Saxon saucer brooches

Anglo-Saxon brooches and beads

Jewelry illustrates one of the fundamental problems with historical artifacts: some were targeted for destruction and only survived in small numbers through unusual circumstances. Jewelry is wearable wealth; the fashion for wearing it changes, but the wealth is conserved. Gold and silver are melted down and recast, while gems are re-set and perhaps re-cut. The same gems and gold might stay in the family for years, but each century they look different.

The medieval world had no concept of antique fashion having value. We see interest and value in preserving the past only after the Reformation, when civil wars caused so much destruction that people saw severe losses in their lifetimes. They began to search for anything really old that had not been destroyed, like Roman coins and parchment books that were still unburnt. More time passed before old clothes began to have value; cloth was generally cut up and restyled. Worn-out shoes went into the trash in every generation, as they do now. Even now, when antiques are highly prized, many people have outdated jewelry re-designed, and so they continued to do in all centuries.

So we tend to know old jewelry four ways. (1) pictures. People usually wore their best finery in having a portrait painted, and by the late medieval years, portraits were more common. (2) grave goods. It’s very expensive to bury your best things in a grave, never to be seen again. Christian belief said it wasn’t necessary, so for the most part, Christian converts stopped burying jewelry. Thus we only have large amounts of jewelry from pagan times. (3) items treasured for ceremonies, like crowns. Kings always tried to keep treasures, and some hoards were never looted. (4) rare lost and found items. These are the best, since they are the only random samples we have. But they’re rare and often decayed.

Anglo-Saxons were converted to Christianity during the 600s; by the 700s, grave goods were not as common. The best archeological find was at Sutton Hoo, in Suffolk; it was probably the grave of King Raedwald, one of the last pagans. Grave goods show us a range of wealth, from Raedwald’s dazzling splendor to the much less generous everyday brooches and beads of common graves.

Let’s start with simpler brooches and beads. Brooches pinned cloaks; chiefly they were the stable surface on which to mount a hinged pin, so they had to be thick enough not to break easily under tension. Here’s a simple swastika design, obviously long before it had the meaning Hitler gave to it. The person who owned this brooch could afford iron, which in those times was not cheap. There were many humble brooches made from copper, and also many very small “button brooches” from as early as the 5th century.

Anglo-Saxon brooches of silver and gold used a kind of inlay called “niello.” Niello applied an alloy of lesser metal sulphides to the grooves molded into a design. Its black color made the design stand out much more boldly. This exact technique was not used in later medieval times, so we can date some startlingly shiny and unspoiled pieces to early centuries. Sutton Hoo provides us with some pretty amazing workmanship.

Here are two buckles that show off the high-level craftsmanship available to those who could pay for it. The belt buckle uses niello to outline the tiny dots and lines inside the interlacing. It’s also worth noting that this buckle shows little sign of contact with the Byzantine Empire. Its style is only found in the Irish and Norse cultures.  Another belt buckle uses colored inlay, and you can clearly see the gold rivets that once held it to fine leather. One of the most beautiful Sutton Hoo artifacts is this set of shoulder clasps. Their style could be influenced by exposure to Byzantine mosaics, but they also have the interlaced-snake design of the North.

Anglo-Saxon brooches were usually either round, shaped like saucers, or square-headed. Other royal burials provide us with four outstanding examples of fine workmanship. This brooch comes from Kent, where Christianity was adopted by the early 7th century. Even more spectacular is the Kingston Down Brooch, also from Kent. It may have been worn by a royal woman who was included in a burial mound.

We have two splendid niello brooches from the Christian period, and their history has been lost. Both are first known to us in the collections of antiquaries, and these collections provide their names. The Strickland Brooch shows sixteen tiny dogs. The brooch is silver with niello, but it also has gold and even blue glass for the dogs’ eyes. The Fuller Brooch is even more interesting. It’s clearly the product of Latin education, since it carefully depicts the Five Senses of taste, smell, sight, sound and touch. It could even be the work of household craftsmen to King Alfred, the greatest and best educated of the Anglo-Saxon kings.

Square-headed brooches also came in simple, practical forms, which we have from early graves. These brooches made of copper seem to have minimal decoration, but they were stout enough to hold the hinged pin’s clasp under the square end. This copper square-headed brooch is much finer, as well as better-preserved. Notice the niello outlines. Aristocrats could afford gold brooches, though the one pictured here is not as rich as Sutton Hoo’s gold work. The last word in square-headed brooches goes to early pagan Kent; here we see gold set with garnets, a gem native to Europe.

Epics like Beowulf are full of references to arm rings handed out by kings as awards for valor in battle. Warriors probably wore all of their arm rings to major feasts, showing off their awards like Plains Indians with eagle feathers. But very few from the earliest period have survived, probably because they got melted down for other purposes. The only image I could find of an Anglo-Saxon (not Viking) arm ring is this one from the 10th century, a time when the Anglo-Saxon kingdoms were completely Christian.

Beads seem to have been only for women’s use. Early grave goods have given us many scattered beads, starting on the humble scale with carved bone. It’s clear that Byzantine traders used beads as highly portable trade goods for furs, as American settlers did a few centuries later. Their bright, multi-colored glass beads are found mixed with native amber. Sometimes they are full necklaces, but always with more beads toward the front. Other times, they appear to be strands of beads that may have hung between a set of round brooches.

Posted in Coins and Jewels | Comments Off on Anglo-Saxon brooches and beads