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.

A Medieval Christmas in England

Over the past few days I've read quite a few articles about how people in medieval times spent their Christmas.  My big bugbear about this is that many articles have spoken about the past as if it's all one big place -- and even as if all of Europe is one big place.  Having lived in a few countries myself, I know that the way one country celebrates Christmas is totally different from another; from that, it's fair to guess that one century also celebrated it in a different way to the others before or after it.  The main problem is that very few accounts still exist from various times that tell how people spent their Christmas -- therefore we amalgamate and extrapolate.  It's fair, though I've tried to keep this post to a limited time period (1340s - 1480s), which has actually been difficult to do.  It's sad that much of the evidence has gone.  Thing is, not all of it has.  Some of it is there, you just have to look for it.

For example, manuscripts sometimes show in their marginalia drawings of mummers and guisers ("performers in disguise") performing plays.  We know that in England's royal courts, for example, plays were written annually for the mummers.  We even have some picture evidence:

Mummers wearing full facial masks as part of a mumming (play).  Mummings took place at Christmas though apart from knowing that they used rhyming couplets, we know little else about the early mummings.  This is from a manuscript created in 1344 for the court of Edward III.  Source:  Bodleian Library.

Sadly, no play scripts or performance details exist from this time period.  In fact, it's only documented in that way from the mid-18th century, but we do know that tradition goes back quite away due to references in manuscripts and pictures like the one above.  We also know that these plays usually cast St. George as the hero and a Turkish knight as the villain.  They also often featured a theme of resurrection, usually where a doctor administers a cure for the fallen.

We also know from reports that Edward VI had a massive Christmas feast in 1482.  He reportedly fed 2,000 people per day, for the entire 12 days of Christmas.  He also took the chance to glam up (just as well as it was his last Christmas), with one guest noting that he was "clad in a great variety of most costly garments, of quite a different cut to those which had usually be seen hitherto in our kingdom."  He was a believer in style and in bling, even when it came to food.  They served up a variety of different meats, including the obvious boar and the not so obvious peacock:

 The feast of the peacock, 15th century.  Yes, when they served peacock, they served it with the feathers.  Well, they took the skin and the feathers off to cook it, and then wrapped them back around the bird when it was done so it was presented at the table looking more like it did when it was alive.  Sometimes, if they were feeling really extravagant, they gilded the combs.  True fact.  For more traditions, check out this blog.

Boar, however, was what Richard III preferred, which is no surprise given that the white boar was his personal emblem.  And it was popular because it's tasty.  Really tasty.  Peacock was, by contrast, pretty tough and not all that tasty, but it was really, really expensive.  In fact, it was the most expensive bird money could buy for around 350 years, according to records kept by London's poultry guild.  So, looks like it was the medieval version of caviar then.  Yes, I have opinions.

Exchanging presents is a fairly obvious custom, still practiced today as it was back then.  Gifts were often bestowed on the members of the court, but the gift giving didn't stop there.  Relics were sometimes gifted to churches.  Titles and honours were also presented to people.... and sometimes, they even threw in the promise of a wife.  In 1470, George Neville was granted a dukedom and a betrothal to Elizabeth of York as a way of trying to pacify the Yorkist supporters.

 Elizabeth of York, not just for Christmas:  Didn't marry Neville in the end.  She did much better for herself by marrying Henry VII and being the mother to Prince Henry (later Henry VIII).  She died when he was 11.

Course, Neville switched sides not long after, which kind of broke the marriage deal.  Still, Elizabeth got a better deal in 1484 when she and Anne Neville (yes, same family, only this one was married to Richard III) exchanged presents of clothing.  According to at least one source, there was a lot of dancing and singing that particular year, so apparently drinking and hangovers was probably also a part of these festivities.  A strong Church Ale was also sold at Christmas, often leading to a lot of dancing, singing and general merriment in the churches and churchyards, which some people frowned upon.  Then again, some folks will frown on anything.  Ah well, sucked to be them!  Happy hangovers!

If you want to read even more about this, head on over to this awesome site:  http://www.britainexpress.com/History/medieval/christmas.htm

Jorvik Centre & Coppergate Helm

Last week I went to the Jorvik Centre in York.  I'd been there before as a child, but as that was a very long time ago, I thought I'd give it another visit.  It's a museum based on the Coppergate digs, which have yielded artifacts mostly from the mid to late 10th century, but with several from before that.  It's mainly Viking focused, although there's a good smattering of Anglo-Saxon and other influences too. 

The Jorvik Centre good way to spend an afternoon, though it is definitely oriented towards school groups as it features a ride that you have to go on in order to get from one part of the museum to the other.  I have to admit to not taking any pictures during the ride because it includes moving, talking, mechanical people and I don't know about you, but those things creep me the hell out.  At least one of them has been pooping in a corner since I was a kid.  I think I'm good for pictures of that, thanks...

It's pretty dark inside Jorvik, but I did get a few decent pictures of one or two items.  The exhibits largely give an insight into the day to day life of your average person living in York during this time period; the average, day to day folk -- not berserkers or warriors, but folk.  I kind of like that.

 Bone and antler combs found in the Coppergate area of York.  These were really common objects, however, the evidence points to a crafter making combs at Coppergate as many half-finished combs were found.  The teeth were finely spaced so as to take care of nits and lice.

Having said that, the museum also houses a few skulls and skeletons, with some of those people noted as having "likely died in battle".  One chap in particular had 16 bone crushing or damaging wounds, so "likely" is probably not the word.  I did find myself contemplating exactly how he died, as grim as it sounds.  It is easy to picture a lone Viking warrior, unaware of the line having folded to both sides, being swamped by the oncoming tide of enemy.  His skeleton told the story of someone who'd been a career warrior; I hope his death was at least quick.  It was certainly violent.

Jorvik also houses a reproduction of the Coppergate Helmet (the original being housed at the Yorkshire Museum).  This helm is awesome.  It's an Anglo-Saxon helm from between 750-775AD which was partially dismantled and stashed so that someone could return for it at a later point.  It would have belonged to someone of pretty high status because it's iron, brass and bling:

Reconstructed it it's original glory:  The bar running up the forehead bears the inscription "IN NOMINE:DNI:NOSTRI:IHV:SCE:SPS:DI:ET:OMNIBVS:DECEMVS:AMEN:OSHERE:XPI".  In short "In the name of our Lord Jesus, the Holy Spirit and God:  and to all we say Amen/Oshere/Christ".

All that's known about the helm's original owner is that he was a Christian Anglian called "Oshere".  He likely had a lot of money but even if he was royalty we'd likely never know, given how short a time some of the kings of York stayed in power at this time.

Detail of the nasal bar. Makes you wonder if the guy had been wearing it rather than stashing it, if he'd have been capable of revisiting the well at some point.

The helm reminds me of a later, Romanised version of the Vendel helms from Sweden -- these were also laden with scroll work and usually had a a boar crest where the inscription on this helm lies.  As much as this was an Anglian helm, other influences are definitely apparent, which is appropriate given just how multicultural York was during this period.

As I said, it was a nice way to spend the afternoon and as a bonus, the gift shop is quite good too.  On my way out though, I couldn't help but snap a picture of this:

Now that would be a great way to spend an afternoon...  ;)

17th Century Playing Cards -- Made from Silver

So, in my inbox this morning I found a news story about the re-discovery and sale of a set of playing cards created in Augsburg, Germany, in 1616.  These are no ordinary cards though -- these are actually made of silver and gilded with gold using an archaic mercury gilding technique.  The process is entirely illegal today; given that he would have added gold dust to mercury and then painted that solution onto the silver before firing it in a kiln... yeah.  I'm kind of glad it is illegal.  What's even more mad is that the artist creating this work (a chap named Michael Frömmer) knew it was dangerous at the time; no one really knew how or why it was a health hazard though.

Photograph by Jay Weston.  Visit here for a bigger and better picture.

Thing is, these cards weren't even for playing with.  They were Renaissance bling.  They sat inside a kunstschrank (art cabinet) and looked nice.  It was a way of saying "I have so much money, I can have this work of art and human engineering created for me."  Of course, should the owners fall on hard times, they also had an awful lot of silver on hand that could be melted down.  Security, currency, art and wealth all in one shot.  It'd be a crying shame if it had happened to these though.  The level of detail on these cards is immense and apparently on the same level as copper plates for print.

 King of Swords, dressed as the Holy Roman Emporer -- Likely Charlemagne.  That's an insane amount of detail -- though given it's mercury gilding, insane is possibly the correct word.  Photo by Patrick Debremme.

The Cavalier (or Knight) of Batons, dressed in early 17th century military gear, rocking the popped collar.  I'd love to know what his dog is looking at.  Photo:  Patrick Debremme, via LiveScience. Though I totally object to their use of the term "ancient".  400 years is not ancient!

You may have noticed that these aren't your standard suits that you find in playing cards today.  Back when these cards were produced, most countries in Europe had their own suits.  This German-made deck actually uses Italian suits, which are those of swords, coins, batons and cups (ace to 10).  Like modern decks, there are three face cards in each suit, although these comprise of king, cavalier/knight and knave.  The deck therefore contains 52 cards -- no jokers.

Each card is blank on the back and only around 1mm thick -- thin enough to play with, but not to shuffle.  They measure 3.4" by 2" and are one of only five sets of silver cards... and the only complete set in the world. 

I'm not really sure why this news story has become prominent now, given that these cards were re-discovered (and went on sale) in 2010 at Christie's for a small fortune -- $554,500 to be precise.  But it was an interesting thing to find in my inbox this morning.

If you want to read more about the provenance, Christie's has more info here.