Ruairi O’Connor as Henry VIII in ‘The Spanish Princess’

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@theageofchivalry
Ruairi O’Connor as Henry VIII in ‘The Spanish Princess’
Florence Pugh as Elizabeth Burgh in ‘Outlaw King’
Crossbow Brooch, Medieval Art
Purchase, The Kurt Berliner Foundation Gift, 2001 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY Medium: Cast copper alloy with silver inlay
I think that the whole “medieval Europe didn’t produce anything great and was filled with ignorant and superstitious peasants with no culture or scientific knowledge and was able to become civilised by stealing Asian and African ideas” may be one of the most irritating theories Americans have come up with in recent years.
A Knight in shining armor is a man whose metal has never been tested.
Or one who regularly cleans it…but yeah, “Black Knights” were called so because their armor was in terrible condition, and they were usually much more experienced, so they usually won tournaments.
@we-are-knight Am I correct? Anything to add?
I’m curious mainly where you got this concept from…
“Black Knights” need to be distinguished by context. I’m on my phone right now so I can’t link you all the sources I’d like to use, so please pardon me for that.
So, the concept of “knight in shining armour” comes from the idea of the knight-errant in medieval fiction, the sort of person who is on a quest, is all shiny and new, ready to test themselves. It also is a nod to the maintenance of equipment, or the wealth of a Knight; in the late medieval and Renaissance periods, well-off knights might have a suit of armour for warfare, a suit for tournaments, and a suit for formal occasions. These being used for different things, they were meant to be maintained well and show status and wealth.
So, where does the concept of a black Knight actually come from?
Surprisingly, most cases come from the idea of the tournament. Knights were meant to display who they were, “show their colours” (ie, heraldry), and show off their skills in combat. But if course you had some knights who didn’t want to show who they were, who they were fighting for, or which lady they favoured, etc. This sounds like a chivalric fantasy, and honestly, that’s what tournaments really became as time went by and the events became more formal.
Now, early “black Knights” , were those who did not wear dark or black armour, but in fact those who did not use their own heraldry, disguising themselves. Again, they may do this for various reasons, but the concept is they hide their identity. Occasionally, they might actually paint their shields black.
We also have the examples from the hundred years war where French and English knights painted their armour different colours: black for the French, Red for the English.
Some knights actually WOULD favour black armour or heraldry to the point they got called “black Knights”, and not as a derogative. The Polish Knight, Zawisza Czarny (pronounced “Zah-vu-shah Shar-ny”, approximately) become known for his feats of arms, and by his dark armour.
Linking back to the original quote, a Knight in shining armour could well be a black knight, as such. But more commonly, it meant he was either wealthy, or highly skilled at arms.
Or both. :P
I’ve seen enough period art to convince me that “shining armour” was often a lot darker than the chrome-plated image which the term suggests.
I’ve also long thought that the whole business of “knights in shining armour” wasn’t a medieval concept at all, certainly not the default one, but was a Regency / early Victorian fictional conceit from Romance poets and Sir Walter Scott’s historical fiction. (About 10 years ago an actual expert said more or less the same thing, leaving actual amateur me feeling rather smug…) :->
This illumination features armour that’s black or dark blue in colour, but with the carefully-delineated highlights of a shiny surface. There are many other like it.
Armour was coloured for both decorative and practical purposes; chemical blueing with acid produces a very dark, lustrous and effectively rust-resistant finish like the one in the medieval illustration. I once had an Arms & Armor rapier with that finish on the hilt: it looked like this…
Heat-blueing, which was more blue than black, was a popular treatment for Greenwich armour of the Elizabethan period, as was browning and russetting (all of which were and are used on firearms), processes which used heat, chemicals or controlled “good rust” to create colour and also prevent uncontrolled “bad rust”.
Here’s the helmet of Sir James Scudamore’s Greenwich harness, which was once blued and gilt.
The image on the left is how it looks now, after being thoroughly scrubbed with wire wool, sand or other abrasives at some stage in the 19th century to make it “shining armour”. The image on the right is a CGI restoration of its original appearance, based on still-visible traces of colour in the grooves beside the gold strapwork.
Here’s the browned and gilt “garniture” (armour with extra bits for different styles of combat, like a life-size action figure) of George Clifford, Earl of Cumberland. I don’t think grinding this beauty down to bright metal would be an improvement…
Henry VIII’s tonlet (skirted) armour for foot combat at the Field of the Cloth of Gold now looks like this:
Originally it would have been shiny black or dark blue with gilt details and the engraved panels picked out in coloured paint or enamelling - red Tudor Roses, green leaves etc., but that wasn’t “shining armour”, so…
This detail shot shows the fine score-marks left after it was sanded “clean”, with dark pigmentation in the grooves as a memorial of how it once looked.
This Renaissance painting, “Portrait of Warrior with Squire”, shows black armour on the warrior and bare-metal armour on his squire, so it’s clear that armour in art wasn’t painted black simply because artists couldn’t properly represent burnished steel.
In this article, Thom Richardson, Keeper of Armour at the Tower of London and Royal Armouries in Leeds (the actual expert I mentioned at the beginning) comes straight out and calls Scott responsible for “shining armour” vandalism:
The sets of armour are not in their original black and gold because of over-aggressive polishing in the 19th century when, said Richardson, “they were polished with brick dust and rangoon oil to within an inch of their life” to fit the aesthetic of what armour should look like, all shiny and silvery. “Walter Scott is to blame,” Richardson added ruefully.
Scott can also be blamed, according to the Oxford English Dictionary, for creating or at least popularising that clunky, inaccurate term “chain-mail”. It cites the first appearance in 1822 (recent when talking about mail) when a character in “The Fortunes of Nigel” says:
“…the deil a thing’s broken but my head. It’s not made of iron, I wot, nor my claithes of chenzie-mail; so a club smashed the tane, and a claucht damaged the tither.”
Plate armour was also painted, either crudely…
…or with much more care (this style is actually called black-and-white armour); since the paint was oil-based, it also had a rust-proofing effect…
I have a notion that the more white there was on black-and-white armour, and thus the more work (by servants, of course!) needed to keep it looking good, may have been an indication of rank, status or success. Just a guess…
Armour left rough from the hammer - therefore cheaper than armour polished smooth, since every stage of the process had to be paid for - was also treated with hot oil in the same way cast-iron cookware is seasoned, again to prevent rust.
There were terms for bright-metal armour - “alwyte harness” and “white armour” - but the existence of such terms suggests to me that they arose from a need to describe an armour finish which needed a tiresome amount of maintenance to keep it that way. I’m betting that the last stage of a clean-and-polish was a good layer of grease, or even a beeswax sealant like the coatings used by museums today.
White armour may have been a demonstration of wealth or conspicuous consumption in the same way as black or white clothes: one needed servants constantly busy with polishing-cloths, the others needed really good colour-fast dye or lots of laundering, and all of those cost money.
One thing is certain: a knight in shining armour wasn’t the one who sweated to keep it shining. That’s what squires were for…
I am a simple man: when Peter speaks, I listen.
Also! Oiling and then fire blackening is a very common way for blacksmiths to finish steel. This gives that dark almost ruddy black thats more reminiscent of what you see in the illustrations.
Also shining armour is a really shitty idea because it can be spotted a mile away, ruining any attempt at ambushing and overall making it easier for the enemy to discern your armies movements. Contrary to popular belief medieval people weren’t stupid and were would almost certainly take this into account.
Leaf from a Beatus Manuscript: the First Angel Sounds the Trumpet; Fire, Hail-stones, and Blood are Cast Upon the Earth, The Cloisters
Purchase, The Cloisters Collection, Rogers and Harris Brisbane Dick Funds, and Joseph Pulitzer Bequest, 1991 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, NY Medium: Tempera, gold, and ink on parchment
http://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/466203
Favorite Costumes
From: The White Princess
Character: Cathy Gordon
On this day in history
Fernando to Isabel
My Lady. After having the other note written, I received a letter from the king, my Lord [John II of Aragon], which I send you, my Lady. By which you will see how the matters in Elna are, and how he orders me to come with all the people of this kingdom to aid this city. Seeing this I can not express my sorrow; I think that if I were in hell, I would suffer much less than I do now, and so many times I wish myself death that I think my thoughts may be fulfilled, I don’t know why Our Lord gave me so much good and so little time to enjoy it, since, for three years, I have not been with you, my Lady, at times even seven months in a row. Now I have demonstrated and I say that I have to go to make them move more in order to do the service, which can not be faster than before Christmas, and if during this time you, my Lady, could make the King [Henry IV of Castile] call me to be sworn in [he is referring to the swearing-in as the Princess heiress of Castile and her consort], I would quickly come, but otherwise, I don’t think I would have an excuse for the King, my lord [John II of Aragon]. However, I will do everything that is in my power to be able to come, but this bad honor [charge of Lieutenant in Aragon which did not let him join his wife] makes me feel so bad that what I am saying does not make sense. I beg you, my Lady, the archbishop [of Toledo] and Cardinal [Mendoza] to help me in this matter, I don’t ask your Ladyship because you have enough yourself, and don’t you think, my Lady, that I need something more than your order [to come to Castile], I would come but for now, other reasons are required. I beg you, my Lady, to forgive me because being angry and disturbed I don’t know what I am saying, I will delay my departure until I get a response from you, my Lady, which I beg you to be soon, and it is how this slave of Your Grace concludes, The Prince-King [Prince of Aragon and king of Sicily]
[Zaragoza, December 1st, 1474]
Direction: To My Lady
Source: Cartas autografas de los reyes catolicos de España Don Fernando y Doña Isabel que se conservan en el Archivo de Simancas, 1474-1502, letter nr 1, Amalia Prieto Cantero
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Elizabeth of York requested by @margarettudor
The chronicle of the monk Herbert of Reichenau for the year 1021 ends “My brother Werner was born on November 1.“
1021 was not an uneventful year. The emperor began a campaign into Italy. Illustrious abbots died. There was an earthquake. But Herbert took the time to note, at the end of the year, that his brother was born.
Of such acts of tenderness is history made.
This post broke through the shell of crustiness on my medievalist heart and made me go ‘aww’.
There was a medieval parenting manual that recommended parents smack pieces of furniture their toddlers bumped into and scold the furniture for being so naughty as to get in the way, so that the kids would laugh and forget about their bumps and bruises
I read that and my heart melted
(source: Medieval Women by Deirdre Jackson. She cited the primary source but I cannot for the life of me find the book to check what it was called)
History Week Meme | Day 5: one man → Mehmed the Conqueror
“The conquest of Constantinople gave the Ottoman Empire a capital city at the juncture of its European and Asian territories, securing the Straits which linked the Black Sea and the Mediterranean. Through his victory, Mehmed acquired spiritual prestige as the conqueror of the city foretold in Muslim eschatological tradition, and secular glory as heir to the throne of the Caesars. Furthermore with his appointment of George Scholarios — a prominent anti-unionist cleric — as Patriarch, he asserted his primacy over the Greek Orthodox Church. It is for his conquest of the city that Mehmed II remains famous, but it was only the beginning of the incessant warfare that marked his reign.” - Colin Imber; The Ottoman Empire
“In his thirty years in power Sultan Mehmed had fought eighteen campaigns in person. The Ottoman Empire which he created was an extensive mass of land and sea which sat at the hub of the great trading networks of the time. Moribund and depopulated, Byzantine Constantinople had been remade as the flourishing capital of territories that included the Balkan peninsula as far as the Adriatic in the west, the Danube-Sava line in the north, and most of Anatolia. The Black Sea coast marked a relatively safe frontier beyond which there were at this time no states capable of threatening Ottoman power. Rivals still threatened to east and west, but within the limits of Mehmed’s state a pax ottomanica brought a measure of internal security which was disturber only by localized brigand activity on land and corsairs at sea.” - Caroline Finkel; Osman’s Dream: The History of the Ottoman Empire
On November 28th in 1509 Ferdinand wrote to his daughter Katherine, informing her that he had received her epistles and had had much pleasure in reading all of them, especially as he had learnt by them that she was with child. Her pregnancy was a great blessing, since she, her husband, and the English people had wished it so much. May God give her a good delivery. He would continually pray the Almighty to grant his prayers till he was informed that she gave birth to her child. Begged her to be careful of her health. During her pregnancy she needed to avoid all exertion, and especially not write with her own hand. With the first child it was requisite for women to take more care of themselves than was necessary in subsequent pregnancies, he told her.
(x)
Resources of Interest for Early Modern Magic in England & New England (circa the 1500s to 1800)
Primary Sources
The Key of Solomon. I’ve heard a lot of good things from several ceremonial magicians, including @thedesertgod , that the edition to go for is Skinner’s. He’s compiled, edited, and added scholastic commentary to The Veritable Key of Solomon, as well as The Magician’s Tables. Joseph Peterson, also recommended, has worked on The Lesser Key of Solomon and the Clavicula Solomonis (or Key of Solomon). I probably would read it in its original Latin, if you have the means.
Agrippa, Cornelius (false attribution). The Fourth Book of Occult Philosophy. 1655. Stephen Skinner also worked on an edition of this book. Unlike the actual Agrippa’s original three books, this volume does not hold much in the way of theory but offers plenty of practical instruction.
Casaubon, M. A True and Faithful Relation of what passed for many years between Dr. John Dee…and Some Spirits. 1659. As a record of the seances held by Dr. Dee and Kelley, it recounts the techniques used to conjure spirits.
Chamberlain, Richard. Lithobolia. 1682. One family’s account of witchcraft perpetuated by the fetch of a neighbor.
Culpepper, Nicholas. Complete Herbal. 1653. It provides a comprehensive description of the herbs, along with their medicinal uses and instructions on preparing them to treat illnesses.
Culpepper, Nicholas. The English Physician. 1652. The first medical guide published in the American colonies (apparently), it is intended for the average person.
Defoe, Daniel (assumed). A Compleat System of Magick; or, The History of the Black-Art. 1727. As a skeptic, like Reginald Scot, this anonymous author (who we’re pretty sure is Defoe) provides much information on the work of witches, conjurors, and cunning-folk.
Hale, John. A Modest Enquiry into the Nature of Witchcraft. 1702. After the Salem witch trials, he challenges the legal proceedings and religious principals of witch hunts in general.
Magnus, Albertus (false attribution). The Book of Secrets. “Provides a portrayal of the magical culture that predominated in the 16th century. This work includes secrets which are divided into five distinct parts: Of the Virtues of Herbs, Of the Virtues of Stones, Of the Virtues of Beasts, Of the Planets, and The Marvels of the World.”
Mather, Cotton. Memorable Providences. 1698. Having fanned the flames of the Salem hysteria, this book discusses several witchcraft cases in New England before the Trials arose.
Mather, Increase. Cases of Conscience. 1693. Intended to vindicate the Mathers’ involvement in Salem, it was intended to prove that witches and devils could assume the shape of an innocent person.
Scot, Reginald. The Discoverie of Witchcraft. 1584. By attempting to debunk witchcraft as a hoax, it managed to record a good cross-section of their formulae.
Turner, Richard. Botanologia The Brittish Physician: or The Nature and Vertue of English Plants. 1664. Another guide to British herbs and medicine, by an astrologer, occultist, and botanist.
Modern Accounts
Davies, Owen. Cunning-Folk: Popular Magic in English History. Hambledon and London, 2003.
Demos, John. Entertaining Satan: Witchcraft and the Culture of Early New England. Oxford University Press, 2004.
Godbeer, Richard. The Devil’s Dominion: Magic and Religion in Early New England. Cambridge University Press, 1989.
Merrifield, Ralph. The Archaeology of Ritual and Magic. Batsford, 1987.
Semmens, Jason. The Witch of the West: or, the Strange and Wonderful History of Thomasine Blight. Semmens, 2004.
Thomas, Keith. Religion and the Decline of Magic. Peregrine, 1978.
Weisman, Richard. Witchcraft, Magic, and Religion in 17th-century Massachusetts. University of Massachusetts Press, 1984.
Wilby, Emma. Cunning Folk and Familiar Spirits: Shamanistic Visionary Traditions in Early Modern British Witchcraft and Magic. Sussex Academic Press, 2005.
“The French queen [Henrietta Maria, daughter of Henry IV of France], who was small and childlike, delighted in acting for the king with her ladies. These Renaissance inventions were fantastic court entertainments, almost like plays, with elaborate costumes, and with lines usually written by the playwright Ben Jonson. Despite growing Puritan disapproval of play-acting, vehemently expressed in sermons and pamphlets, Charles’s court was famous for its amateur theatricals. These masques tended to have for their theme the divine majesty of the king, which had a special appeal to Charles as he was intensely religious.
Rebecca Fraser, The Story of Britain: From the Romans to the Present: A Narrative History, 327 (via early-modernism-research)
Victims of the Childbed - Jadwiga, King of Poland
In 1373, King Louis “The Great” of Hungary and his wife Elizabeth of Bosnia welcomed their third child. After the births of two daughters and twenty years of marriage it was hoped that Queen Elizabeth would finally bear a male heir to her husband’s empire. Instead, the baby was a third daughter. She was christened Hedvig after her ancestor, Saint Hedwig of Silesia. History would know her by the Polish version of her name – Jadwiga.
Jadwiga spent her early years at her parents’ court at Buda, which was a major cultural center. From early childhood Jadwiga and her older sisters, Catherine and Mary, received an education that was among the best available in Europe. Following the early death of Princess Catherine, Mary and Jadwiga became the only immediate heirs to Louis’ dominion of Hungary, Poland, and Croatia. As such the young princesses were highly valued brides among the European royal houses. When she was around the age of five, little Jadwiga was “married” to eight-year-old William of Habsburg in a false ceremony that would be fully realized once the couple came of age. It was planned that Jadwiga and William would rule Hungary, while Princess Mary and her betrothed, Sigismund of Luxembourg, would rule Poland.
The noblemen of Poland were opposed to being ruled remotely, therefore they required that one of Louis’ daughters settle in Poland if she was to rule there. In September of 1382, Jadwiga was present at Louis’ bedside when he died. From there events moved quickly and Mary was crowned King of Hungary instead of Jadwiga. Poland now refused to have Mary as their ruler, for she would not reside in the country. Several male claimants to the Polish throne were put forth, but Jadwiga seemed to have the strongest claim. Queen Elizabeth, now regent of Hungary, was rather reluctant to part with Jadwiga so soon. Meanwhile, internal strife had broken out in Poland during this interregnum. In order to quell the unrest in the country, Jadwiga was finally sent to Poland in October 1384. She was crowned as King in Kráków without opposition. Though only eleven, Jadwiga was noted for her mature intelligence, kindness, and piety. She was soon extremely popular in her new country.
Now that she was the ruler of Poland, Jadwiga’s marriage became a matter of great importance. She was still technically married to William of Habsburg but the union was unconsummated and could therefore be easily broken. The lords of Poland favored a match with Jogaila, the pagan Grand Duke of Lithuania. According to legend, William was forced out of the castle on the night he was to consummate his marriage to Jadwiga. Upon hearing of this, Jadwiga called for an ax and attempted to break open the castle gates herself in order to reach William. Whether this is based in fact or is simply popular legend (she was only around the age of twelve), William was indeed sent from Poland and was never fully Jadwiga’s husband.
It is said that Jadwiga received divine inspiration during prayer that convinced her to wed Jogaila of Lithuania. Jogaila vowed to convert himself and the people of Lithuania proper to Catholicism. On February 18, 1385, twelve-year-old Jadwiga married thirty-five-year-old Jogaila. The marriage united Poland with the massive territory of Lithuania, which at that time comprised most of present-day Ukraine and Belarus. Jadwiga and her husband, now baptized as Władysław II Jagiełło, ruled jointly instead of as king and consort. As she matured, Jadwiga became even more beloved by her people and developed her skills as a mediator and political negotiator, but she never lost her sense of compassion. During a royal visit to Greater Poland there was damage done to many peasants and their homes. Jadwiga convinced Jogaila to compensate them, telling him “We have indeed returned the peasants’ cattle, but who can repair their tears?”
Though Jadwiga and her husband were an effective team, she also acted independently. Following the worrying spread of anarchy in Hungary and the subsequent murder of her mother in 1387, Jadwiga rode at the head of her army and secured the submission of the Ruthenian governors in the midst of the chaos. Throughout the 1390’s Jadwiga played a vital role in politics and was known to be an astute politician and impartial mediator with peace being her main objective. Jadwiga was also deeply pious and devoted to the spread of Christianity in Lithuania. Perhaps her greatest achievement was the development of Jagiellonian University. The university was originally founded by Casimir III but did not continue after his death. Under Jadwiga it was reborn, renamed, and still exists today. Jadwiga personally donated her jewelry to afford tuition for 200 students.
After twelve years of marriage, Jadwiga and Jogaila had no children. This may have caused tension in the relationship, as both monarchs were in need of an heir. Jadwiga became pregnant by late 1398. Hopes were high and astrologers predicted the birth of a son. On June 22, 1399 Jadwiga gave birth. Instead of the expected boy, Jadwiga’s child was a girl, but still her heir. The baby girl was christened Elizabeth Bonifacia after Jadwiga’s mother and Pope Boniface IX, who had agreed to be the godfather. Any gladness or relief was dashed when Elizabeth died just three weeks later. Jadwiga never recovered from the birth and lingered for nearly a month afterwards. She died on July 17, 1399. Jadwiga was greatly mourned and regarded as the mother of her country. In recent years, she has been compared to Casimir the Great as one of Poland’s greatest rulers. Jadwiga was officially canonized in 1997. Her tomb in Wawel Cathedral is now a holy shrine.
Now in the fall of 1469, Fernando was resolved to marry the princess of Castile. He immediately left for Valladolid with Cárdenas and Palencia, accompanied only by a few retainers. Riding mules, the small band traversed hostile countryside disguised as merchants and their servants. Wherever they stopped, Fernando, playing the servant, served supper and curried the mules. Along the way, the riders were much cheered when Palencia spotted a good omen, a pair of eagles, soaring high. At the border town of Burgo de Osma they found Gómez Manrique waiting; Isabel had sent him with a squadron as escort. On October 9, in Valladolid, she received Palencia and Cárdenas, who had ridden ahead to let her know that Fernando had arrived at nearby Dueñas, had been royally received by Buendía, Carrillo’s brother, and the countess, Fernando’s aunt, and that he was safe and on his way. Her happiness was intense, recounts Palencia, not least because while waiting she had had to cope with arguments against the wedding put to her by envoys of Pacheco and Queen Juana, both of whom by then knew something was in the wind. Isabel had to fend off as well some of her own courtiers, who insisted that the dignity of the royal house of Castile and the excellence of the princess far exceeded that of the king of Sicily and prince of Aragón, and it was unfitting that, through being male, he should enjoy any advantage whatsoever over his spouse. On October 12, Isabel wrote to Enrique: “By my letters and messengers I now notify Your Highness of my determined will concerning my marriage,” which at her age she adjudged to be a very reasonable event. In view of who she was, she went on, and whose daughter and whose sister, she had made the most suitable match possible, after having consulted the principal people of the realm. She wrote only now because she had been informed that Enrique, “following the counsel of some,” had sought to intercept Fernando, who, she wanted him to know, had arrived at Dueñas. Have him as a good vassal, she urged Enrique, and approve her intention. Then came that frustrating phrase that occurs so often: Her secretary who was bringing that letter would inform him further. Two days later, she and Fernando met for the first time. He came to Valladolid from Dueñas, secretly, with only three retainers, in the middle of the night, and entered the house by a postern gate. Carrillo greeted him—the archbishop tried to kiss his hand but Fernando instead embraced him—and led him inside to meet Isabel. As they entered the room, Cárdenas excitedly pointed him out to her: ¡ése es, ése es!—that is he, that is he! Cárdenas, as authorized by Isabel, ever after proudly bore two ss emblazoned on his coat of arms. Isabel was eighteen, auburn haired and comely, her blue-green eyes steady. From all indications she was tall and stately, her bearing regal. (Her surviving portraits show only a much older and ill queen). She saw enter the room a gallant youth, eyes sparkling, taut with energy, a cousin, and a very welcome one. She and he talked for two hours. “The presence of the Archbishop repressed the amorous impulses of the lovers,” according to Palencia, “though they soon enjoyed the licit joys of matrimony.” By all accounts, theirs was an instant attraction, and, remarkably, it proved a passionate and long-lasting love. A notary took down their formal promises to marry. Fernando gave Isabel customary, if unspecified, gifts and that night he returned to Dueñas. Peggy K. Liss, “Isabel the Queen: life and times”.