Weather it is, or weather it isn’t…

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By Thomas Wyke – scan from FT magazine, 2007-09-30, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=2867141

It doesn’t normally snow in the Peak District in November these days – February yes but the last couple of days have been really cold and very festive looking, if you’re tucked safely up indoors. It got me thinking about whether I could find more information about snow in the past. I’m sure that many of you are familiar with the concept of the Little Ice Age. I tend to talk about it in the context of the Tudors and Stuarts. Frost fairs were held on the Thames when it froze. In 1683 the winter took a definite turn for the worse. The Great Frost of that winter saw the Thames frozen a foot deep! The River Aire in Leeds froze solid as well and Yorkshire held its own Frost Fair. The proceedings were described by Ralph Thoresby , a non-conformist, whose father served Sir Thomas Fairfax during the English Civil War.

I wouldn’t go so far as to describe the Eighteenth Century as warm either. The tradition of frost fairs continued. As the French Revolution took a grip, the cold continued to ensure the tradition of Frost Fairs in London. And let’s not forget the fog. It was actually sometime in the 1800s when the Little Ice Age ended although the snow continued to fall. Various reasons have been given for the plunging temperatures including volcanic activity and heat in the oceans changing because of the circulation of currents.

1946 was the worst winter since 1814. In isolated villages in the Peak District people burned their furniture to stay warm and shared food. Unfortunately in Nottingham, the winter’s snowfall was followed by a thaw in 1947 which caused the River Trent to go wandering. As a result a new series of flood defences were built.

Then the next winter to find itself in the history books was 1963 which earned itself the name ‘The Big Freeze’. There were snowdrifts 8ft deep in Kent.

As I recall, the 1970s were relatively snow free in comparison to the earlier winters of the twentieth century but the end of the 70s and beginning of the 80s saw some heavy snow falls. I remember walking to school because the bus couldn’t get through. However from the 1980s onwards there has been little snowfall in comparison to past winters. 2018 saw the Beast from the East which drew cold air from Russia and Scandinavia across Britain.

Now as it happens I want to find out about the weather in November/December 1921 – which was apparently the driest year on record thanks to a prolonged drought. I’m starting to dabble in novel writing again…who knows, perhaps this time it’ll get further than a box under the spare bed!

The Met Office archive reports are all available online – see the link below. So if you have a particular year you’d like to find out more about, all the information is available. Incidentally although our winters are now demonstrably warmer, it is possible that with the accompanying increased rainfall we may also once again experience more snow.

https://digital.nmla.metoffice.gov.uk/?s=weather+reports+1921

Still stitching but with a detour to slander…

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I’m still stitching my swirly dragon but have had to divert to knit several reindeer, a sleigh and Santa for the telephone box to be completed by the beginning of December – (don’t ask, it’s just best if I eventually post a picture.)

Medieval English work is principally associated with ecclesiastical embroidery but we have also looked at book covers, gloves, bags and pouches, and of course, boxes. These small personal items may have been made by professionals or in a domestic setting. I must admit to have a developing thing for 16th century sweet bags which were a development from my medieval meanderings!

I am particularly enthralled by William Huggins, Huggans or even Hogan, the Keeper of the Gardens at Hampton Court, presenting Elizabeth I with an annual New Year’s gift of sweet bags – these may have been quite small, as they could have been to contain potpurri to keep some of the less pleasant smells of court life at nose length. He began making his gifts in 1561 and continued until his death in 1588, whereupon Mrs Huggans is found listed as the annual gift giver. William also made sweet waters for Elizabeth.

Museum of London

The family originated in Norfolk. He can be found as a scholar with his brothers at Cambridge. He left without taking a degree and entered Lincoln’s Inn to train as a lawyer – rather than undertaking a horticultural course somewhere! In 1555 he was elected to parliament. It seems that his family’s patron was the 4th Duke of Norfolk (who was, coincidentally, married Thomas Audley’s only surviving daughter, Margaret).

Hogan had only the one job that has made its way into the history books – Keeper of Hampton Court Gardens, a place incidentally which Elizabeth I was very fond of. In 1564 he wrote to William Cecil. In May 1565 he received a grant of lands specifically to help pay his debts. He transferred them to Francis Barker, a Merchant Taylor. And then in 1588 he died…

There’s much more to be found out about William’s ‘brother’, John Appleyard, who was married to William’s sister, Elizabeth. It was on his behalf that William had written to Cecil in 1564 on the matter of a privateering venture. In 1567 the connection got William into a spot of bother when Appleyard agitated against the Earl of Leicester while he was staying with William at Hampton Court. At which point a light went on in my head! John Appleyard was one of Amy Robsart’s half brothers. And in 1567 he claimed that the jury, which found her death to have been accidental, had been bribed.

So, in one short step we’ve moved from embroidered bags and sweet water to bribery and murder, not to mention shadowy conspirators. Appleyard was interviewed, as indeed was William Huggans – who knew nothing. Appleyard admitted that he had slandered the Earl of Leicester (which was probably a very sensible decision under the circumstances). William was required to answer the following questions according to Cecil’s own notes:

How often did John Appleyard inform you of any offers made to him to provoke him to prosecute matter against my lord of Leicester? Where were you when Appleyard went over the Thames to speak with one that came to move him in such a purpose? Who came to fetch Appleyard? How many persons did you see on the other side of the Thames with Appleyard? Did Appleyard stand or walk whilst he communed with the party? &c., &c.

(‘Cecil Papers: 1567’, in Calendar of the Cecil Papers in Hatfield House: Volume 1, 1306-1571( London, 1883), British History Online https://www.british-history.ac.uk/cal-cecil-papers/vol1/pp342-352 [accessed 13 November 2024].)

I’m not sure how to discuss embroidered household textiles after that massive diversion. Bed hangings, cushions and table carpets aren’t going to have quite the same impact and I’m not sure that even I can wedge heraldic embroidery, including banners, ceremonial clothing, regalia, funeral palls, surcoats and horse accessories, into the tribulations of Amy Robsart’s extended family.

For further reading on medieval embroidery, rather than the matter of Amy Robsart ( Chris Skidmore, Death and the Virgin is an excellent read on the subject) other than Tanya Benham and Jan Messent, and the V and A catalogue of their Opus Anglicanum exhibition:

– A.G. Christie’s English Medieval Embroidery, was until recently, the book on the medieval methods of embroidery. It can be accessed on line, which is very handy indeed:

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/20386/20386-h/20386-h.htm

And if you’re feeling particularly inspired Mary Symons Anrobus and Louisa Preece’s book dating from 1928 is also worth a look:

https://archive.org/details/needleworkthroug00antr

And last but not least, a real book rather than an online facsimile , Barbara Snook’s English Embroidery, published during the 1970s by Mills and Boon.

Bayeux Stitch – threading into history

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William, Duke of Normandy raising his visor to show that he is unharmed. Depicted on the Bayeux Tapestry.

While the Bayeux Tapestry isn’t the earliest piece of English embroidery in existence, it is the most famous. Most of us can identify 1066 as one of the most important dates in the nation’s history and know about the tapestry which William’s half-brother, Bishop Odo, commissioned. At the time of the conquest there were, according to Messent, ten nunneries in England (not counting any double houses) – inevitably that particular thought has resulted in a list- Nunnaminster, or St Mary’s, at Winchester; Romsey, Shaftesbury, Wimborne and Wherwell in Dorset; Wilton and Amesbury in Wiltshire; Barking in Essex; Reading St Mary’s Abbey- the lands of which were granted by William the Conqueror to Battle Abbey in 1071; Bath Abbey. Leominster was closed in 1046 after Stein Godwinson kidnapped its abbess and there were none left in the north or in Kent thanks to the Vikings. Many of them were strongly associated with the royal family and in the aftermath of the conquest many Saxon aristocratic women found sanctuary behind their walls.

However, there is no proof that it was England’s nuns who created the tapestry in their workshops or who designed the work, certainly the embroidery wasn’t completed by anyone amateur. For instance the castles were all completed the same way. Outlines were stitched first, then blocks of colour filled in being stitched from left to right, then top to bottom. It has been suggested that there may have been a conveyor belt approach with different groups of women being responsible for the different elements described. This and the fact that the eight panels of ground fabric were embroidered before they were stitched together suggests that the workshops were highly organised. (Lester-Makin, Alexandra, ‘The making of the Bayeux Tapestry: who made it, how long did it take, and how has it survived?’, BBC History Extra (October 2019)).

Oh and just for purposes of comparison – There were 10 nunneries in 1070 but there were 138 by 1270…

So on to the joys of Bayeux Stitch – and the delights of Tanya Bentham’s book by the same name. The embroidery has to be formed on a frame as the first part of the stitch is too unstable not to use one. I managed to break my frame – I don’t know how and we aren’t going to discuss it! For the time being I’m using a frame composed of four adjustable stretcher bars and rather a lot of drawing pins to secure the fabric.

Part 1 – the laid work – the thread is laid over the ground in parallel rows taking account of the curves in the design. The aim is to avoid gaps between the rows. It looks like satin stitch but unlike satin stitch the embroiderer does not take the thread across the back of the work. It makes sense – the thread would have been expensive. Hiding it at the back of the embroidery where it can’t be seen is a waste of resources. There is only a small stitch running around the end of the infill.

part 2 – Couching. A thread is laid at right angles to the laid thread and then couched into place by using a series of neat stabbing stitches, or in French – les picots. Tanya helpfully provides diagrams for what happens if the couching is too far apart. It was a rooky error and I made it. As a result I over compensated and the first infill is far too dense. I would have been told off for wasting time and resources – definitely not a candidate for an Anglo Saxon embroidery workroom. Having said that I like the texture even if it hasn’t got much in the way of a pattern going on. Really the parallel rows should be about 4mm apart and the stab stitches should be staggered so that they don’t pushed the laid work aside – which sounds very straight forward, and ends up looking a bit like a pattern of bricks. It is a straightforward stitch, but only once I’d made all the errors that Tanya warned me against. Oh yes and friction causes wool thread to wear and break if you’re not careful…I knew that so I’m not quite sure why I ended up spending a good five minutes painstakingly having to thread my needle with a truncated end so that I could weave it in. Like I said, definitely not good medieval embroiderer material.

part 3 – The outline really should be worked first in stem stitch or split stitch but Tanya advises completing the outline for the dragon last in her wonderful pictorial instructions.

However despite my various ineptitudes when it comes to couched and laid stitch, I love Tanya Betham’s book and my swirly dragon which will become more proficiently embroidered with the passage of time but I don’t think I’ll be progressing to Opus Anglicanum silk threads quite just yet even though I do want to tackle the Steeple Aston cope angel and horse!

You will note in the first image that despite having a frame I have managed to wrinkle the ground fabric by pulling the laid stitches too tight but didn’t spot it until unpicking might have caused some very poor vocabulary choices.

Messent, Jan. The Bayeux Tapestry Embroiderers’ Story. (Search Press)

Medieval embroidered bags and purses

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Purses could be used for carrying personal goods, for giving money to the poor – as in an alms purse or aumônière-, they could be used for storing religious relics or to carry seals.

The purses which survive are often heavily embroidered. They may have been produced by professional embroiderers, nuns or by a woman with sufficient funds to be able to buy the silks to make the purse herself. The alms purse of Marie de Picquigny (France 1342) worked on linen in silk and gold thread is on view at the Musee de Moyen Age, Cluny Paris. It would seem that women’s purses were most likely to be of the drawstring variety.

The Lovers’ Purse,  Hamburg, Museum fuer Kunst und Gewerbe 
Purse, Silk, linen, gold leaf, French
14th Century Purse The Met Cloisters, Metropolitan Museum of Art

They often depict a couple engaged in the pursuit of courtly love. In the first example the young man is offering his companion a ring while in the second the couple are playing a game with a hood. Stylised oak trees provide a garden setting – and a reminder of allegorical gardens of romance. The Lovers’ Purse dates from about 1340.

The Dominican Abbey at Poissy allowed its nuns to embroider purses for their visitors. Christine de Pizan’s daughter was nun at the convent and a companion to Princess Marie. The nuns were still producing embroidery when Mary Queen of Scots was a prisoner in England during the sixteenth century. She ordered coifs with gold and silver crowns on them (Owen, p.386).

In 1317 when Queen Jeanne of Burgundy was crowned her accounts show the purchase of 12 embroidered purses, 6 embroidered velvet purses, 6 embroidered samite purses and 16 other purses – most of which she must have given away as gifts (Farmer 87-88). Mahout of Artois gave away a purse embroidered with pearls in 1319. (Ibid, 88). Farmer returns to the topic in The Silk Industries of Medieval Paris (2016).

It should be noted that the production of highly decorated bags did not end in England with the Reformation. The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were notable for highly decorated sweet bags.

https://threegoldbees.com/projects/embroidered-lovers-purse

Farmer, Sharon. ‘Small Mercery Goods,’ in Medieval Clothing and Textiles, volume 2. Gale R. Owen-Crocker, Robin Netherton (eds). (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2006)pp. 87-89

Owen, Mrs Henry & Egerton, Mary Margaret. The Illuminated Book of Needlework. Comprising Knitting, Netting, Crochet, and Embroidery. By Mrs. Henry Owen. Preceded by a History of Needlework, Including an Account of the Ancient Historical Tapestries. Edited by the Countess of Wilton. (London, 1847)

Volume 1

The Fishmongers’ Pall

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I Spy Couching Stitch | PieceWork

The Fishmonger’s Pall was made specifically for the merchant’s guild, for use at the funeral of company members as the beginning of the sixteenth century . It is made from Italian cloth of gold and the four side panels which are linen are embroidered with silver gilt and silks. Unsurprisingly the embroidery has a ‘fishy’ theme. St Peter – the fisherman, appears at the top and bottom ends of the pall and there’s a mermaid and a merman as well as dolphins and the guild’s coat of arms. It was described in 1862 by the Gentleman’s Magazine as ‘perhaps as perfect a specimen of the various processes go embroidery as could be found anywhere, and the magnificent piece of cloth of gold and velvet forming the centre should be carefully noticed.’ (Vol 213, p.38).

Mermaid on Fishmonger's Pall embroidered with gold and silver wire

There is an awful lot of gold work in evidence. The couching creates density and texture while the embroidered figures composed of split stitches, satin stitches and brick stitch among others tell a story of immortality and a Christian soul on its journey to heaven -even the peacock feathers sported by the angels around St Peter speak of immortality and peacocks symbolise immortality because their feathers return better than ever each year. There are peacock feathers on the Toledo Cape as well – a reminder perhaps that just as the imogees and emoticons of today as readable there was an entire visual language of religion and belief which began to drain away with the Reformation. Perhaps just as important, the whole thing shouts abut the prestige of the Fishmonger’s Guild.

I Spy Couching Stitch | PieceWork

The embroiderer even used different kinds of gold thread to create the density of texture. Most gold thread was linen wrapped in sliver gilt ‘foil’ but they have also used drawn wires called ‘damask gold’ which doesn’t appear before the fourteenth century and purl thread which is a twisted coil of wire. It adds greater dimension to the coat of arms and crown. The embroideries themselves have a three dimensional look because there are padded areas that have been embroidered across. The mirror even shows a reflection because of the way that the silver thread surface of the mirror has been couched. For more information about embroidery stitches used on the pall follow http://www.zenzietinker.co.uk/opus-anglicanum/ which will open in a new tab. It also offers some excellent close up images of the pall.

Panel from the fishmonger's pall featuring a mermaid and merman worked in goldwork embroidery.

The fishmongers’ pall is not the only one in existence but it is certainly the finest because of the depth of its embroideries and the finesse with which the shading has been applied – it certainly has to make you wonder what was destroyed at the time of England’s Reformation. And it also goes to show that the Reformation took something of a toll on an industry that had thrived throughout the medieval period. The embroidery on the Fishmongers’ Pall have depth and nuance that develop the earlier forms, even though the themes and images may be the same.

V and A, English Medieval Embroidery Opus Anglicanum (London and New Haven: Yale University Press)

Embroidery for horses

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Who would have thought that embroidery was something that an armourer might worry about? Clearly Sir Geoffrey Luttrell pictured at the start of the post would have understood. Records show that artists were commissioned to paint various flags and horse trappings for jousts – much less expensive than employing a posse of embroiderers and quicker as well. These might be stencilled or stamped, especially if many of the same thing was required.

Sir Geoffrey’s horse seems to be covered from the end of his ears to his tail. This item is a caparison or even a trapper. Clearly it was so that the audience at a joust was able to recognise each of the contestants and they clearly had their value on ceremonial occasions. Quilted caparisons became popular during the crusades as a practical part of its protection from arrows. The horse might also be equipped with a chainmail trapper – in which case a cloth draped over the mail also helped the horse not to overheat.

If embroidery was needed, the design might be hand drawn and then stitched. Layers might be appliquéd and then embroidered. The British Museum is home to the remnants of en embroidered medieval horse trapping showing the arms of William of Fortibus, Earl of Albemarle (d. 1260). The Museé de Cluny holds some fourteenth century horse trappings manufactured in England on a ground of red velvet depicting lions. These are heavily embroidered with gilt thread and date from the reign of Edward III. Records of heraldic horse-wear can be found in many royal account books of the medieval period including royal armourers records and the royal wardrobe accounts.

Alternative sources of information about what the well-dressed-medieval-horse-about-town was wearing include Froissart’s Chronicles which depict decorated horse trappings from the fifteenth century while Les Tres Riches Heures depicts 14th century trappings. I may admit to looking forward to revisiting several of my Books of Hours texts to see how much embroidery I can spot in the illustrations. Elaborate illustrations reveal tassels, as well as jagged or leaf like edges. The same illustrations depict decorative reins. Of course, my difficulty is then to find the associated images to illustrate this post…we’ll start with Froissart and the French jousts of St Ingelvert and the Salisbury Museum’s medieval illustration of a horse harness not to mention a rather wonderful tasselled saddle cloth which is just visible.

Now – I will admit that I didn’t think that I would travel seamlessly from a post about cope chests to another linked by embroidery threads and appliqué to caparisons!

Roman pottery that’s not Samian ware

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Samian ware is the fancy red pottery associated with the Romans – or as they would have called it Terra Sigillata. Most of the fine table ware that turns up in England comes from Gaul but it was also made in Colchester. The latter was not as durable as the crockery from Gaul because the clay wasn’t the same quality. The red colour comes from a mineral in the clay called illite.

The pot at the start of the post was made in or around Colchester in about 1705 AD, during the Roman period depicts gladiators including ventures who fought animals and a lightly armed retiarius. It was buried as part of someone’s grave goods and rediscovered by the Victorians and earned itself the name ‘the Colchester Vase”. It was thought for many years to have been an import but its now recognised as a locally produced vase, made by a master craftsman, to perhaps celebrate a special event – perhaps the self same gladiatorial games depicted on the vase.

Perhaps rather less grand, but rather more fun is this duck’s head spout which can be found in Derby’s museum. It was made by a Romano-British potter and was probably fired in one of Derby’s Roman kilns.

And finally – meet Bert Oswald, found near Bird Oswald on Hadrian’s Wall. The stone figure is a Genius Cucullatus, or ‘spirit in the hood’. They turn up on carvings in groups of three, so Bert may be missing a couple of friends. The spirits are thought to be associated with babies and children because of their hoods or with healing. The one at Bird Oswald is carved from stone but they were also made from clay or from metal.

To my horror, all my other photos of Roman pottery, Hadrian’s Wall and various mosaics are trapped on an external hard drive that I can’t access.

Papal preference for English embroidery and pattern books

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Pope Innocent IV AnonymousUnknown author, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Matthew Paris, who wrote the Chronica Major, recorded in 1246 that the Pope Innocent IV had noticed that English bishops and priests were well kitted out with copes and mitres embroidered with gold thread in the ‘most desirable fashion’. Having discovered their source and described England as a ‘garden of delights’ the pope write to the abbots of the Cistercian order and demanded similar payment for himself, noting that he rather liked the gold work. By 1295 the Vatican had more than 100 vestments described as Opus Anglicanum and the English royal family had found a new and well received gift for the Holy Father of the day and nothing about the robes and vestments were cheap.

The Ascoli Cope at Ascoli Piceno, Italy belonged to Pope Gregory X and is a fine example of English work. It was a gift to him from King Edward I who also gave Nicholas IV and Boniface VIII lots of lovely embroidered goodies.

Survivals across Europe depict some of the richness of the vestments, not to mention the skills of the embroiderers. Samuel Pepys better known for his diaries and love of a buxom wench than his historical interest left papers to Magdalene College, Cambridge which included a book of drawings dating from the fourteenth and fifteenth century, including pattern sheets for medieval glaziers – there are designs for animals and birds, people, angels, the Virgin Mary, and various decorative motifs. During the Victorian period the idea that the designs might have been used for embroiderers was discounted but the images on Gothic stained glass windows are echoed by the glittering vestments worn by the clergy.

The idea behind a model book is that all the creative crafts could draw from the same designs and adapted according to the craft whether it was embroidery, window manufacture or illuminated manuscripts. You name the decorative craft – the chances are that a model book would have been useful, especially if you wanted to create the same design on several occasions – which would help reduce production time. Not everyone could afford to arrange for an artist or illustrator to draw the design on the fabric before it was embroidered.

The Göttingen Model Book which dates to about 1450 provides instruction on penmanship and illustration for the creation of foliage – which could be adapted by embroiderers. Just as today the model books were designed to help artisans learn a skill. Seven year apprenticeships were based on observation and ‘learning on the job’ but model and pattern books were essential for the transmission of images. They would also have been helpful for wealthy patrons who wanted to commission vestments. And, by the fourteenth century wealthy patrons wanted their own clothes richly embroidered as well.

It was really only during the sixteenth century that pattern books became widely available – and lets face it anyone who could afford it decorated everything that could be stitched but by then the heyday of English work was over.

Ascoli Cope, early 20th century (original dated 13th century) Italian, Watercolor on paper; 24 1/2 × 49 in. (62.2 × 124.5 cm) Framed: 26 in. × 50 7/8 in. × 1 1/2 in. (66 × 129.2 × 3.8 cm) The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Gift of J. Pierpont Morgan, 1906 (06.1313) http://www.metmuseum.org/Collections/search-the-collections/462871

Churches and cathedrals – cope chests

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York Minster cope chest

Its been a while since I looked at anything ecclesiastical but since my Zoom class is currently exploring Opus Anglicanum, or English work, I thought that it was about time to look at some church furniture- cope chests – as pictured at York.

A cope is essentially a cloak. The word derives from the Latin cappa meaning cloak or mantle. It originally had a hood – which let’s face it a hood is more useful than a piece of material that looks like a shield and was meant to mimic the shape of the hood – as found on copes up until the twentieth century. The whole thing was originally held in place by a clasp or brooch but bands were introduced later to keep the semi-circular fabric closed.

The first written mention of a cope appears in the late 8th century but it was more an item of everyday wear for monks who wanted to keep warm while singing in the choir than a ritual robe worn by bishops (who presumably were also keen on keeping drafts at bay). The cope’s liturgical significance had already developed by the end of the 8th century but the garments worn by bishops were made of precious silks and heavily embroidered to reflect the bishop’s status, his patrons and of course the lives of Christ and the saints. There are a number of monumental effigies depicting sixteenth century bishops in their copes as well as more modern examples.

Somewhat surprisingly copes remained on the ecclesiastical dress code after the Reformation. The prayerbook of Edward VI depicts him with a group of bishops all dressed in their copes and mitres so that they are immediately identifiable. Problems arose about their use during the time of Charles I, mainly because the Episcopalian Archbishop Laud insisted that they be worn whereas the king’s puritan subjects felt the garment smacked of popishness. The cope disappeared during the Commonwealth period but was reintroduced at the Restoration in 1660.

Meanwhile, back in medieval England the precious textiles were too valuable to be folded – no one wanted wrinkles in their silk or for their gold thread to become worn. And so the cope chest evolved. They were semi circular or wedged, like a cheese, in shape allowing the cope to be laid flat and then gently folded side to middle in a wedge shape. Salisbury Cathedral’s cope chest is believed to be the oldest of the remaining English cope chests – it dates to 1244 and was thought to have been made to house a cope gifted to the cathedral by Henry III. There are seven medieval cope chests in England including the one at Salisbury. They were large items so only bigger foundations would have had the space for them. Wells, Gloucester and Westminster each have one while York has two York’s is the finest – well I would think that-but it has some very fine wrought iron strap work on its lid. There’s also a cope chest at Durham. Tewkesbury’s cope chest is a modern oak chest.

Copes are still in production but some of them are very different from their medieval counterparts, including the wonderful St Paul’s Cathedral Silver Jubilee cope designed by Beryl Dean.

Why not have a closer look by following the link, which opens in a new tab, and seeing how many of London’s churches and peculiars you can identify in addition to St Paul’s Cathedral. http://www.beryldean.org.uk/works/jubilee-cope/

File:Queen's Silver Jubilee Cope (2).jpg
Accessed from Wikimedia commons.

Pictish Stones

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The Picts, or ‘Painted People’ lived in Scotland, north of the Firth of Forth during the early Middle Ages. They were a society formed of a warrior elite and a lower farming class. Most of what we know about them is because of the Romans. The Picts themselves left no written records of their own. However, they did leave elaborate carved artwork on monumental or symbol stones reflecting their Pagan beliefs of the fourth century and later journey to Christianity. Many of these stones, up to 20% of the them in fact, they can be found in Aberdeenshire. Nor is it clearly understood what the purpose of the stones might have been. It is possible that the stones might have been some kind of commemorative marker or an indication of land ownership.

Many stones can be found in or near churches where they were found, reflecting that sites of worship have a long and complicated history. The example at the top of the post can be found at the museum in Perth. The stone with the cross was found face down in St Madoes Churchyard in the Carse of Gowrie. It wasn’t the only Pictish Stone I came across. There’s another example at Dunkeld Cathedral – which happens to be on the opposite of the River Tay from all that remains of Birnam Wood, made famous in Shakespeare’s Scottish play – ‘he shall never vanquished be, until Great Birnam wood to high Dunsinane hill Shall come against him.’

The symbols on the decorated stones have been categorised and there are about 50 commonly used symbols including mirrors, combs, horses, deer, salmon and geese. For more information as well as some stunning pictures visit (opens a new tab) https://www.digitscotland.com/what-do-the-pictish-symbols-on-scotlands-carved-stones-mean/

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