Showing posts with label saints. Show all posts
Showing posts with label saints. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Quick fixes, saints and symbolism: a rare surviving devotional recipe manuscript from the early 15th century. Item of the Month - February 2010

Oak panels of manuscript showing stitching binding
It is rare to find a manuscript from the early 15th century that combines folk remedies with religious iconography and a royal heritage to boot - even more rare is to find one that has been heavily defaced.

Such a manuscript exists in the Archives and Manuscripts collection at the Wellcome Library - MS.5262. Lara Artemis, former conservator here at the library, uncovered the manuscript as part of her MA in Medieval History. In the process, she unpeeled the layers of what turned out to be a fascinating and possibly unique insight, not only into medieval medicine, but of religious symbolism at a time of particular spiritual turmoil - the reformation.

Inscription of Andrewe Wylkynson
Although the dating remains speculative, it is believed to be from around the early 15th century partly because of the dedications within. There is proof of its 16th century ownership in the form of 'Andrewe Wylkynson Surgeon'.

More intriguing is the fact that it belonged to Henry Dyngley of Worcestershire who died in 1589 and came from a line of staunch catholics and rural famers working as doctors. Dyngley married Mary Neville, the daughter of Knight Sir Edward Neville who not only held a long list of prestigious roles within the court of Henry VIII, but who descended from Edward II and Queen Isabel of England in the 13th century. Isabel was a keen patron of medicine and was famously paranoid about her health. It is no suprise then to find the health regimen, a sweet wine tonic, is dedicated to her at the end of the manuscript.

Equally fascinating is the manuscript's association with oak. Not only is it bound in oak but the religious images feature oak trees and acorns in all but one. Traditionally a pagan symbol, the oak was re-interpreted by Christians to represent Christ, a symbol of endurance and strength in the face of adversity. Given the possible date of the manuscript, and the significant damage to the religious images only, suggests this manuscript is a rare survivor of Henry VIII's iconoclastic reformation when vast quantities of religious materials were destroyed in a protestant bid to rid the country of any visible signs of catholicism.

Why did the iconoclast stop at the religious images only? The explanation seems to be clear: this was too useful a manuscript full of day to day 'quick health fixes' that would have been invaluable to a well-to-do family like the Dyngley's. This was an era where university educated medical practitioners were in short supply, particularly in rural areas and folk remedies proved invaluable.

The practical recipes include how to reduce the swelling of the scrotum: "Who so hap ache or swellynge In his balloke" - the solution, a poultice from pounded barley and cumin mixed with honey applied to the offensive area. Another common but potentially harmful ailment was a skin disorder which is described 'Who so hap pe wilde fire...", in other words, ergotism, also known as St Anthony's fire. This was a reaction to ergot fungus in barley meal, a common source of food in the medieval period, which famously caused bewitchment. The suggested cure involved applying cooked and strained leeks to the face in addition to white wine, rye meal, and eysel. Ergot contained a chemical that made sufferers go beserk, largely because it caused gangrene and eventual loss of hands, feet and fingers. If not treated, and it rarely was in the Middle Ages, the poisoning led to the sensation of being burned at the stake. St Anthony's association with the ailment comes from the monks of the Order of St Anthony who achieved relative success at treating victims. To fund their charitable work, the same monks reared swine which partly explains the presence of the pigs in the image of St Anthony within the manuscript.
Saint Anthony

Saint Anthony is the first to appear in the front of the manuscript. While the oak trees, acorns (traditional fodder for pigs and many other birds and animals), and a deer (another sign of conception, growth and thereby health) are clearly visible, the rest of the saint is clearly scrubbed out. If it were not for the red liturgical colour (for martyrdom) of his robe and the presence of the pig (a common attribute), his identity would remain a mystery. Although further investigation is necessary to establish any underlying drawing that may have been obscured, as well as dating evidence, it is clear that this, and the other religious images, have been destroyed quite deliberately.

St James
He is followed by St James who chops down an oak tree with his bare hand (presumably to reveal the medicinal properties of the bark), St John the Baptist, also with an oak tree and, this time, rabbits (possibly to suggest the Christians and the persecuted church, or at least Christians fleeing temptation), and lastly, a Bishop.

While St John is left off lightly by the iconoclast, mysteriously, the Bishop gets the worst treatment leaving only the 2 candles either side visible, symbols of Christ's divine and human natures.

St John the Baptist
Bishop
The manuscript also includes catchword illustrations, possibly charms that were copied and cut into a piece of bark (no doubt oak) of apple peel and placed on the wound as a health-inducing charm.

A cockerill illustrating a recipe for staunching blood
The manuscript offers a fascinating glimpse of medieval medical practice in English history. From ailment to treatment, it provides a practical medical resource to the practitioner, through both its scholastic and its 'folk' medical content. Further research is clearly needed to establish just how unique this manuscript is, more evidence of why it was partially destroyed and, if others exist like it.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Two empresses and their sons

SS. Constantine and Helena. Russian painting on wood.
Wellcome Library no. 34400i
Empresses are rarely encountered. However a small Russian painting in the Wellcome Library records a bond between two empresses who lived fifteen centuries apart. As will be seen, 4 September is an apt date on which to publish it.

The Roman Empress Helena (ca. 246/50-330) was the consort of the Emperor Constantius, and the mother of the first Christian emperor, Constantine (ca. 272-337). The painting shows her on the right, with her son Constantine on the left. Constantius divorced her or separated from her and remarried for political reasons, abandoning Helena and depriving her of imperial honours. When Constantius died in York in 306, Constantine (also then in York) succeeded him, and restored his mother to her previous status in the imperial court in Byzantium.

As the mother of the new Emperor, Helena supported Constantine in the promotion of Christianity throughout the empire, and devoted herself to the recovery of the relics of Christ's Passion in Jerusalem, particularly the excavation of the Cross.

Hence, in the engraving shown here, Helena and Constantine are the figures closest to the Cross, Helena on the left and Constantine with a full beard on the right, both of them wearing imperial crowns (click on the image to enlarge it). Helena died in Byzantium in 330 in the presence of her son.

Engraving by Nicolas Beatrizet, 1557. Wellcome Library no. 10914i

The Wellcome Library painting of Constantine and Helena is a Russian icon. The two saints are named as "Святыи Цар Константин" and "Святая Царица Елена" (the Holy Emperor Constantine and the Holy Empress Elena). Between the two figures is the Cross. The Cross had been the subject of a dream in which Constantine had been told "In hoc signo vinces" ("In this sign you shall conquer"). A relic believed to be the original Cross had, as we have seen, been discovered by Helena in Jerusalem. Neither the subject nor the manner of depiction is particularly rare. What is distinctive about the painting is its provenance. Before it was acquired by Henry S. Wellcome, it had belonged to another empress: Empress Eugénie of the French (1826-1920), consort of the Emperor Napoleon III (1808-1873).

Eugénie was a Spanish countess whose mother was of Scottish and Belgian parentage. In 1853 she married Napoleon III. He had lived in various places (on Lake Constance in Switzerland; Leamington Spa, Warwickshire; Southport, Lancashire; New York City) before returning to France in 1848 to take up the presidency and in 1852 the Imperial throne.

Right: The empress Eugénie in Paris. Engraving by D.J. Pound. Wellcome Library.

Napoleon III's reign was eventful. He provoked the Franco-Prussian War in 1870, only to end up losing it and himself a prisoner of war after being captured at the battle of Sedan. He returned to England and settled with his wife at Chislehurst in Kent. There they lived with their son, Napoleon Eugène Louis Jean Joseph Bonaparte, the Prince Imperial, who had been born in 1856. It was at Chislehurst that Napoleon III died in 1873, weakened by a sequence of three surgical operations performed in an attempt to break up a huge bladder stone.

Left: the Prince Imperial Louis Napoleon. Wood engraving, 1879. Wellcome Library no. 580028i

The exiled Eugénie was not so fortunate in the career of her son, Prince Louis Napoleon, as Helena had been in the support of her son, Constantine. Louis Napoleon joined the British army and was keen to see action in the Zulu War. On 1 June 1879 he took part in an expedition outside the camp. He and his party were ambushed by some forty Zulu: most of the other soldiers got away, but the Prince Imperial was unlucky. His dead body was discovered the following morning riddled with spear wounds.

The reaction around the world was comparable (mutatis mutandis) to the shock at the death of Diana Princess of Wales in 1997. Eugénie was of course devastated. In 1880 she went to South Africa to visit the spot where he had been killed.

On her return to England she left Chislehurst and moved to Farnborough in Hampshire, where her remains of her son's body were interred with his father. There she involved herself in good causes, including women's suffrage, improving the treatment of young offenders, and children's charities, as well as radio, electrification, motor cars, her complicated family relationships, and a close friendship with the Queen. In World War I she turned a wing of her house into a convalescent home for wounded soldiers.

Right: the Empress Eugénie mourning her late son the Prince Imperial. Colour lithograph by F. Betbeder, 1879. Wellcome Library no. 575546i

Among her many possessions was the icon of Helena and Constantine which is now in the Wellcome Library. In gazing on the likeness of her fellow-empress, Eugénie could recognize in several respects a kindred spirit. The island named after St Helena, to which her husband's uncle Napoleon I had been exiled, was often in her thoughts: violets from the island decorated her sitting room. Eugénie was also linked with Helena through the True Cross, for Eugénie was the guardian of a relic believed to be a fragment of the Cross which Helena had excavated. This sliver of wood, glazed with a pale green gemstone and housed with other relics in a Gothic iron chasse, was believed to have been buried with Charlemagne; the Emperor Charles V had had it placed in the treasury at Aachen, from which it passed to Napoleon I and thence through his step-daughter Hortense de Beauharnais to Eugénie. It was the only item which Eugénie had managed to save from the Tuileries when she was forced to flee the howling mob surrounding the palace on 4 September 1870, and it received an honoured place in the chapel at Farnborough Hill. Through a continuous line of individuals and families, from Jerusalem to Byzantium, from the first Holy Roman Emperor in Aachen to the Empress of the French in the rolling Hampshire countryside, "westward the course of Empire takes its way", in Berkeley's words.

On the other hand, the sight of Helena standing side by side with her son could arouse more melancholy thoughts. Unlike Constantine, Eugénie's son never succeeded his father as Emperor. Unlike Helena, Eugénie herself was never restored to her former imperial glory. The icon reassured because it represented a fond ideal to be cherished, rather than the sorrowful reality. And just as the icon commemorated Helena and Constantine long after their deaths, so perhaps Eugénie and her son would be remembered in centuries to come. That certainly seems to be the intention of the person who placed the icon in a box lettered "La belle fleur de mémoire". And, as we read about them here, we cultivate that flower of remembrance.













A note on the provenance
The box (above left and right) is inscribed and is accompanied by a letter from Mr Norman H. Greatorex, 13 The Hostel, Newburn Street, London S.E. 11, offering the painting to Queen Mary, consort of King George V of the United Kingdom. The letter states "These belonged to the Empress Eugénie & came from Farnborough Hill after she died there. I bought them at Guildford for 10/-". A letter to Mr Greatorex from a Lady in Waiting declined the gift "as the Queen does not collect icons". "These" in the the letter presumably refers to the painting and the box.

Acknowledgments:
Agnes Carey, Empress Eugénie in exile, New York: Century Co., 1920
Anne L McClanan, Representations of early Byzantine empresses: image and empire, New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2002
William Smith, Eugénie, impératrice des Français, Paris: Bartillat, 1998
William Smith, The Empress Eugénie and Farnborough, Winchester: Hampshire County Council, 2001