The One Ring

I have had my head in a world of costume and dwarves lately, so it may sound like I'm losing my grip on reality when I say that The One Ring, The Preciousssss, actually exists in the real world -- and it's not a film prop.

This real world ring is a cursed (yes, really) Anglo-Romano ring from the 4th/5th century that was found in a field in 1785 in Silchester, Gloucestershire.  It's a rather large inscribed gold ring, weighing 12g.  And when I say large I mean "dude must have worn it on his thumb over his gloves" kind of large as it's 25mm in diameter.  It has 10 facets, with the top centre facet engraved with a profile of Venus -- albeit a rather unattractive one.  As the writing is reversed and the profile is quite recessed, I think it was probably a seal ring, however, there is nothing in any source article that officially states that it was.

Above:  The ring and a close up of the Venus head, sourced from The National Trust website.

The ring inscription runs across the facets and reads "SE | NI | CIA | NE | VI | VA | S | II | NDE."  Several sources interpret this as a shortened statement of monotheistic belief, seeing it as "Senicianus vivas in Deo" or "Senicianus lives in God".  A 19th century source suggests that "Senicia ne vivas iinde" is more likely, with iinde being a truncated form of any one of the many words that start with "indec"-- most of which bear the connotations of dishonour.  This would translate to "Senicia does not live indecently", which would explain the presence of the Venus head as a representation of chastity and honour.  Either translation would be a nice counterpoint to the curse placed on the ring though.

Of course, to curse something properly, you'd have to write the curse on a separate item, cursing the first one.  Why?  Otherwise the cursed object itself would be in the hands of the person and can therefore be easily destroyed, breaking the curse.  And the whole point of curses is to make someone paranoid and make them wonder if they've been cursed.  Besides, everyone knows that Roman and Celtic gods only read curses that are inscribed using a bronze stylus onto lead or pewter tablets like these:

Roman curse tablets from the British Museum.  These were usually left in places in closer contact with the underworld, such as baths, springs, graves and temples.

Thirty years after the ring was discovered, a tablet like those above was found at the site of a Roman temple to the Celtic god Nodens.  Nodens was a god of healing, the sea, hunting and dogs.  This tablet was found in the temple along with similar tablets bearing requests for Nodens to heal people.  However, this tablet was different.  This one reads:

1 Deuo
2 Nodenti Silvianus
3 anilum perdedit
4 demediam partem
5 donauit Nodenti
6 inter quibus nomen
7 Seniciani nollis
8 petmittas sanita
9 tem donec perfera(t)
10 usque templum [No]
11 dentis

Translation: "To the god Nodens: Silvianus has lost his ring and given half (its value) to Nodens. Among those who are called Senicianus do not allow health until he brings it to the temple of Nodens." (Source: CSAD at Oxford).

Now sure, the two items weren't found too close together, apart from being in the same part of the country.  But that ring is pretty distinctive and Senicianus was not a common name at all.  Many of these curse tablets specifically cursed people for theft, although this tablet never uses the word.  The word "lost" is interesting -- and why only half it's worth? Of course we'll never actually know that answer.  Obviously, Senicianus never brought the ring to the temple; instead, he put his name on it with the message of "I didn't steal it".  After all, he does not live indecently.  As far as I can see it, this is basically Latin for "Neener neener".

There's a story there and I wish I knew it.  It's a very human, very petty story, but it would be an insight to the lives of these people.

So where's the Tolkien tie in?  In 1929, when Sir Mortimer Wheeler was working on the temple excavation, he realised the link between to the curse tablet and the ring and asked Tolkien to work on the etymology of the name "Nodens".  Tolkien visited the temple several times that year.  Of course it's just coincidence that the Iron Age mine fort  "Dwarf's Hill" is just next door...  And that he started writing The Hobbit the next year.  Sure, we don't know for sure, really, but... just sayin'.

Seriously though.  How big were this guy's fingers?

Either way, The National Trust is taking full advantage of The Hobbit publicity and has put the ring on display from 2nd April, 2013 at The Vyne in Basingstoke with all the Tolkien tie-ins ever.  The ring sits in a special rotating case in it's own room, along with a magnifying glass and a copy of the curse tablet and first edition signed Tolkien works.  The Vyne has also created a Middle Earth adventure garden for the kids -- though I can see that I'd have to have a go in there.  Seriously, whoever made this happen is a marketing genius because I'd love to go see it.  Next time I'm dahn saff, I may have to.

AFK for Nine Weeks

So I've been AFK since January which means I've not updated my blog and I've barely been pinning.  In fact, I've barely seen many of my real life friends for that matter.  Well, that stops now.  Of course, I do have a very good reason at least...

I make stuff.  Specifically, one of the things I do is make kit for live action roleplay (LARP or LRP), historical re-enactment and sometimes, just purses and handbags.  The last eight weeks have been fraught; this is the start of LARP season, the start of re-enactment season... and people have recovered from Christmas.  So.  Without further ado...

What I made in the last week of January:

Ladies Hero Belt:  Celtic and shaped for us girls with hips.  Makes a huge difference to comfort.

Monogrammed Kindle Cover:  Proof I don't just make costume!

What I made in February:

Dwarf kit:  Beaver-hide shoulders, oil-tanned leather harness, hero belt and leather tabard.  

Yes, I may have loosely based the shoulders, belt and harness from kit seen in The Hobbit.  The intended look is "inspired by" not "derivative".

I also made a hero belt, a set of bracers and a set of armlets during this time.  Sadly, as these were very close to the deadline, I only have work in progress shots of the bracers and armlets.  I'm hoping to get pictures of the finished products soon:

Boar design for bracers, before dyeing.

One of the armlets, just after dyeing but before putting on the finishing touches.

 I also started making some decorative patches for a jerkin:

For the back, across the shoulders. 

Down the right side of the chest

A little bit of detailing on the collar.  

Although I finished the jerkin in March, probably just best to put it up here now...

Sadly, the mannequin I used was at another maker's house -- and the customer is way smaller than I am, so this shot will have to suffice.

And finally... FINALLY...

What I made in March (everything ever, by the feel of it):

March was full of armour, armour, armour, more armour and... a handpurse.

A small monogrammed hand purse.  Vegtan, suede pigskin lining.

A circlet, belt and pauldron set, tricked out in brass.  3.5mm - 4mm vegtan.  That stuff was wonderfully gnarly to work with.  The brass cut aways are runes as this is supposed to represent magical armour.

Two shots of my most favourite bracers I've ever made, ever.  I may have to make a set for myself next time!

I also created a hooded mantle to go with a set of armour.  It has detailed bits, which are super hard to get pictures of whilst being worn across the shoulders, so here's a shot of one below:

Followed by a shot of the mantle and the jerkin it goes with being modeled by the very understanding other half, as it's tailored for a bloke.  However, I wanted pictures of me in the mantle too, so we took some:

Yeah, okay, that last one is just included because I liked how it looked.  Hey, how often do you get to go on a make binge, make some awesome stuff, and then take pictures of it in the snow, in which everything looks better?  

The final make list for the last nine weeks:

Kindle cover

Four hero belts

Two sets of bracers

A pair of armlets

A hooded mantle with decorative gubbins

Two jerkins, one highly decorative

A runic headband

One set of pauldrons

A mini-clutch purse

A beaver skin shoulder set

A harness

And a leather tunic.

Oh, and the 20 group symbols (not pictured) created using emboss plates.  Because emboss plates are awesome -- after all, I can create a design in Photoshop or Illustrator and *bosh* the job is done.

I work in a "real job" two days a week and volunteer elsewhere a day a week.  On reflection, no wonder it's been tough.  I have actually put my foot down and am taking a week off though.  Aside from that scabbard I'm going to make.  And maybe a handbag... *grin*.  I think I hear my other half putting his foot down...

Forbidden Books: Aristotle's Complete Master-Piece

If a book is considered too racy and controversial to be socially acceptable, demand for it will be high.  Of course, there will always be people who tut and sigh, even if the book is designed to be a medical and biological guide intended to inform rather than entertain.  This is the case with Aristotle's Complete Master-Piece, which was first printed in 1680 and became a "banned" book in Great Britain until the 1960s.  In the 18th century, however, more copies of this book sold than for any other medical manual on the market.

Interestingly, the book wasn't written by Aristotle and nor did it draw upon his works; it's thought that the name was used to sell more books through the credence of the name.  It also, strictly speaking, wasn't officially and legally banned, according to Lyon & Turnbull, contradicting earlier news stories about this book.  Sure, it was a work of high taboo and no one wanted to put their printing house on the copies, possibly for fear of persecution or even loss of earnings through association.  Granted, it wasn't a polite book that people admitted to owning or wanted to be caught with.  And yes, no one really wanted to be caught selling it either, but with that many sales, well, you can well imagine the conversation:

"Excuse me, but do you happen to have a copy of, ahem, that book, you know the one, about... women's bits... for sale, perhaps under the counter somewhere...?  I'm a mid-wife/doctor.  I'm only asking for necessity, you understand.  For my job."  "Of course you are..."

Forbidden Book for Auction:  Aristotle's Master-Piece Improved.  "Printed and Sold by the Booksellers" because no one wanted to accept responsibility for printing a medical and sexual manual in the 17th and 18th centuries.  Chapters split into Marriages, Monsters, Conception and Directions for Midwives.

The book actually calls on the earlier works of Nicholas Culpepper and Albertus Magnus, with a very liberal helping of old wives tale.  For example, did you know the best way for a midwife to help a woman with the afterbirth was for her to burn marigolds and generally waft the smoke into the mother's birth canal?  Yeah, there's a reason why you didn't know that.  Not really all that helpful after all, but in 1766, when the book above was published, this was stellar advice.  I have never been so glad for modern medicine.

The book also advises on conception, advising that women and men both should enjoy the act of sex in order to conceive.  This advice being given in the 18th century seems odd to us looking back on it from the modern day, but remember that we're looking back on history as filtered through the straight-laced Victorian era, which is ironic, given Victoria's own exploits.  The book also shows a picture of a baby in the womb, in context of the female body, which would have been quite helpful to midwives -- in theory at least:

Banned imagery -- "The Figure Explain'd:  Being a dissection of the womb with the usual manner how the child lies therein, near the time of its birth."  Being the most explicit picture in this book, it was likely the reason it was banned.

One of the odder chapters is about "monsters and monstrous births and the several reasons thereof".  Of course, it wouldn't be a good medical manual without illustrations of the "monsters" (a word that by today's standards is possibly the only thing still shocking in this book):

Illustrations from the 1766 edition of the banned book Aristotle's Complete Master-Piece Improved of "monsters" -- the only idea presented in this book that is still shocking outside of some of the dodgy medical advice.  It attempts to provide case studies and give advice on how to avoid birth defects.

Much of the advice revolves around the archaic idea of a child that is conceived through sin will suffer such defects as being covered in hair, being conjoined, missing limbs or even having a mouth in the chest or stomach.  "Sin" is often referred to as being extra-marital affairs or the child being conceived outside of wedlock. 

The book is certainly a strange one and I have to admit that I wouldn't mind spending an afternoon reading it.  However, in order to do that, I'd need to participate in the auction on 16th of January, and have approximately £300 ($500ish) to hand.  I may need £300...

Victoria's (and Albert's) Secret

I like QI.  It's a TV show that I can relate to, given that I seem to collect random bits of knowledge like an old lady collects random bits of string.  Apparently, I now use it to give me ideas when I'm stuck with writer's block like I was two weeks ago.

When we picture Queen Victoria, we picture the very straight-laced "Widow of Windsor"; a woman lost in perpetual mourning and the mother of the British Empire:

Queen Victoria, 1887, around 68 years old.  Although she never said "we are not amused", you can see why people thought that she did!

Of course, she wasn't born old.  It's easy to forget given that the pictures we see of her are largely like the ones above.  In her earlier years, she was absolutely besotted with her husband, Albert, although she had to ask him to marry her because of her royal position.  He became The Prince Consort in 1840 and the marriage lasted 21 years, until his death from typhoid fever in 1861.  It was his death that plunged her into the dark widow that we recognise today.  But before that, she was much different:

Vic & Al, 1846.  Painted by Franz Xaver Winterhalter.  Pictured here with five of her children.  As a side note, she was one of the first women to use anesthetic during childbirth, against the advice and will of the clergy, who believed that women should suffer the pain of Eve in order to bring a healthy child into the world.  She helped to break that belief.

Thing is, despite having nine children in total, Victoria hated being pregnant.  She thought babies were ugly and she really didn't like the idea of breast feeding at all.  She did, however, really like sex with her properly wedded husband.  In fact, after her last child was born she was told by her doctor, James Reid, that any more pregnancies would be dangerous to her health.  Her reply?  “Oh, Sir James!  Am I not to have any more fun in bed?”  She was far from the picture of Victorian repression that we picture today, by all accounts.  And fair play to her.

She was apparently very flirtatious as a wife, and as such, on Albert's 24th birthday, she surprised her husband with a portrait known for years after as "The Secret Picture".  Albert kept it in his private chambers and it was said to be his favourite picture of her.  At the time, it was seen as being a bit risqué, so he had every reason to keep it out of sight and very much to himself:

Queen Victoria's Secret:  The portrait deemed "too overtly sexual" to be shown to the public until 1977.  Of course, posing for such a picture would also have been seen as been scandalous by some.  That's 1843 for you!  Still, it's a beautiful picture and you can see why Albert liked it -- and why the royal family wished to keep it secret in order to keep Victoria's "proper" image intact.

The picture went on display in the Victoria and Albert Museum in 2009 as part of an exhibition called Victoria & Albert:  Art & Love, which focused on the years between Victoria's accession to the throne and Albert's death.  I have no idea what Victoria or Albert would think about it going on display, but it humanises her, her husband and her relationship; it allows us to relate to a couple in love, rather than the sadness that followed.  I'd like to think that they wouldn't mind it being shared 170 years later.

Fawkes: He's just this Guy, y'know...

Yeah, I know.  It's the day after Guy Fawkes night, but I have a good reason for posting late:  We were watching stuff explode.

When I lived in the states, I remember patiently explaining that no, we did not celebrate July 4th in England.  Why would we have a "we lost" or "good riddance" day?  But the idea of Bonfire Night, 5th November and Guy Fawkes would draw a look of confusion onto the faces of a lot of folks.  The explanation I used to give ran like this:

Back in 1605, a group of Catholic conspirators decided they wanted to put a Catholic on the throne because they'd had a lot of religious persecution over the years.  So these conspirators decided to blow up Parliament with King James I inside.  One of the conspirators decided he should probably warn his brother-in-law to avoid parliament on 5th November, which led to Guy Fawkes being caught in Parliament's basement with 36 barrels of gunpowder.  So ever since then, the British set off fireworks and burn effigies of Guy Fawkes as a celebration of a plot that failed to kill a king.  [Cue the massive look of confusion].  No, we're not really sure what we're celebrating any more, but everyone likes an excuse to set things on fire and to watch fireworks.  [Cue a sudden light of understanding].

Woodcut of the conspirators, created by Crispijn Van de Passe around 1605.  Fawkes is third from the right.  The chap named Bates on the left was a servant and therefore not important enough to have his first name featured -- everyone else was of a higher class.  Only eight of the thirteen are pictured.  From Wikimedia Commons.

That is pretty much the bare facts of the matter, stripped of history, culture, context and additional information.  Sure, these chaps had very much been subject to persecution -- under Elizabeth I.

 Elizabeth I:  Not nice to Catholics.  Rainbow portrait, ca. 1600, meant to show her agelessness.  

She had passed several laws that saw people executed for their beliefs, often through being hung, drawn and quartered.  James I was her successor and wanted to be more tolerant, stating that he would not persecute Catholics "that will be quiet and give an outward obedience to the law." 

 James I:  Wanted to be nicer to Catholics, considering his mum was one.  Sadly, they tried to blow him and his wife up.  That kind of thing makes a monarch angry.  Ca. 1603-1609.

However, James I did not openly remove any sanctions either -- after all, at the time of the gunpowder plot he was on the throne barely two years.  The plot did nothing to encourage him to be nice to Catholics either.

Guy Fawkes was captured red-handed and held as his majesty's convenience in the Tower of London.  Fawkes was held at some length in a cell called "Little Ease", which was a cell only 4ft long by 4ft high, and only as deep as the wall.  The idea was that it was too small to lie down, stand or sit comfortably.  Of course, that was the least of what happened to Guido Fawkes.  He refused to give his name (John Johnson being the worst false name ever) and his co-conspirators fled, with several dying in a last-stand siege.  After 10 weeks of torture, Guido Fawkes finally signed confessions -- one is so faint and shaky it's just grim, and the other is marginally better, signed eight days later:

 This is your signature on 17th Century Torture:  The signature on the first confession (above) lies below the word "good".  Wikimedia commons.  

This is your signature 8 days after 17th Century Torture:  Still shaky.  Still grim.  Guy Fawkes' signature on the second confession.  National Archives.

All the conspirators faced ugly ends -- those who died before being executed still had their corpses decapitated and placed on Traitor's Gate.  Those who survived the seige got the worst of it; they were hung until nearly dead and then whilst still conscious they were castrated, disemboweled and then quartered.  Ironically, Guy Fawkes had the cleanest death of the lot.  He'd decided that he'd suffered enough, thank you, and so jumped from the scaffold to hang, breaking his neck and cheating the executioner.

The British, being the cheerful people that we are, decided that we would turn all this into a celebration.  Burning effigies of Guy Fawkes became commonplace, and although it's not so common now, I remember as a child seeing other kids making Guys and asking adults for "a penny for the guy" so they could go off and buy fireworks. Thanks to these effigies, the word "guy" also came to mean an oddly dressed man, before becoming used as it is today.

It's got to be said though, as a child, I remember some fantastic Guy Fawkes Nights.  When you're six, all you remember are the fireworks and the poem...

"Remember, remember, the 5th of November,

Gunpowder, treason and plot.

I see no reason why gunpowder treason

Should ever be forgot."

...with the meaning totally lost on you.  But it doesn't matter because you are six, there are fireworks and fireworks are amazing!