The Significance of the Selky: Sentient Sea-beast, Siren, Seductor, Sustenance or Simple Seal?

Adam Dahmer - PhD Celtic Studies

The selky myth seems to have fulfilled numerous roles in medieval Hebridean, Orcadian, and Shetlandic societies. Likely the oldest of these was its use as a means by which to mitigate feelings of bereavement for relatives lost at sea. Because they depended on the treacherous waters of the North Atlantic for their livelihoods, both Gaelic and Norse islanders in medieval Scotland lived in constant peril of drowning. The belief that lost mariners might have sheltered with or transformed into selkies could have lessened the emotional anguish of their passing for those who survived them.

As a coping mechanism for grief, the selky myth could address not only deaths at sea, but also deaths in childbirth. The narrative archetype of the selky wife provided a ready explanation for the widower whose young child was curious about its absent mother. The notion of a connection between the selky and maternal death is reinforced by the fact that in stories of the selky wife, it is often the selky’s child who alerts her to the whereabouts of her seal skin, inadvertently instigating her sudden departure from the family just as a newborn might unknowingly bring about its mother’s untimely demise. The selky skin—with its irresistible ability to separate mothers from their children and wives from their husbands—might itself be a metaphor for death.

Imbalances of power between various entities—not only death and the mortal—play a central role in the selky mythos. One such relationship explored in the selky myth is that between the seal and the seal hunter. Medieval Orcadians, Shetlanders, and Hebrideans had four compelling reasons to hunt seals: the animals competed with islanders for fish; sealskin made excellent waterproof clothing; seal oil could serve as lamp fuel, topical medicine and a waterproofing agent for clothing and boat sails; and seals themselves were edible (Ní Fhloinn 1996). Strangely, alongside the tradition of seal-hunting and the practical incentives that maintained it, there was also a taboo against killing seals, and an entire subgenre of selky stories dedicated to its enforcement. The taboo against seal hunting thus enforced, although observed to varying degrees according to region and historical epoch within Gaelic- and Norse- speaking areas, may have served an important ecological purpose in the Middle Ages, ensuring that grey seals were never over-hunted.

Selky stories might have served not only to protect the environment, but the interests of married women. The male selky of Orcadian and Shetlandic fame had a reputation as a talented lover, who could offer women a temporary distraction or a permanent escape from a loveless marriage to a cruel or controlling husband. He was also reputed to be extremely virile, and could therefore have served as a convenient scapegoat in the event of unexpected pregnancy. Even the tales of female selkies captured and forced into marriage by fishermen might have aimed at the promotion of women’s rights; almost invariably, the selky-wives in these stories escape their captivity, leaving their one-time captors to care for their children alone. This subgenre of selky stories might therefore have been morality tales, reminding husbands that ill-treated wives could desert their abusers, and empowering abused women to do exactly that.

To the extent that the selky emblematizes the female hope of sexual and personal empowerment, it also embodies the masculine fear of sexual and personal inadequacy. The narrative of the captured selky wife in some ways provides an apt metaphor for medieval marriage—in which the female partner often acquiesced to social, familial or economic pressure to marry rather than robustly and eagerly consenting to the union. Under these circumstances, a husband might well feel that he had somehow tricked or coerced his wife into their marriage. His feelings of guilt and insecurity would only have deepened with contemplation of the male selky; by virtue of being a supernatural creature, the selky-lover surpasses his human rival in all respects. He is stronger, more attractive and self-confident, more competent in the arts of love, and able to easily navigate the depths of the ocean—a realm into which the fisherman can only peer from the water’s surface. He lives effortlessly and stays warm and well-fed in the wintertime despite his sloth. And yet, despite his superior fishing skills, the seal still insists on stealing the fisherman’s catch. By analogy, the selky ashore would surely feel similarly inclined to alienate the affection of the fisherman’s wife. The selky myth therefore reflects the medieval husband’s deep-seated suspicion that his wife only loves him from a sense of duty, and that if she could, she would not only run away from him, but into the arms of his archrival—which, in the medieval fisherman’s case, was the seal.

Interestingly, the selky myth has also been used as a means by which to overcome feelings of inadequacy. Numerous Scottish, Irish, and Orcadian families—including the families MacCodrum, Connolly, Kane, Rogers, O’Shea, and O’Dowd (MacDougall 1994) —historically claimed descent from seal-people (Ní Fhloinn 1996). Oral tradition has often suggested that some members of these families were occasionally born with webbed hands and feet, or with fingers grown together so that their hands resembled flippers. (Ní Fhloinn 1996). In light of the selky myth, such congenital anomalies—traits which under other circumstances might have been perceived as deformities—could instead have been interpreted as proof of the families’ much-touted selky ancestry.

An examination of the selky myth reveals it to be more complex than one might at first suppose, in terms of both its origins and cultural significance. It is liminal, straddling the frontiers of medieval Gaelic and Norse culture in the same way that the seal people themselves can traverse both land and sea but can be confined to neither. It reflects the harsh realities of life for preindustrial people forced to depend for survival upon one another and the sea and helped them preserve the delicate balance between the interdependent but opposing forces that sustained their existence.

Worked Cited

Anderson, Mrs, ‘Rescued by a Seal’ Scottish Traditional Tales, ed. by Alan Bruford and Donald A. MacDonald (Edinburgh: Polygon Press, 1994), 368-69

Cravalho, Mark A., ‘An Ethnozoology of the Amazon River Dolphin’ Ethnology, 38 (1999), 47-58

Farley, Erin C., Informal private interview regarding Orcadian folklore (Edinburgh, 15 September 2015)

Harper, Douglas, ‘Wretched’ Online Etymology Dictionary, website, 2001-2015 <http://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=wretch&allowed_in_frame=0> [accessed 7 October 2015]

Hunter, Andrew, ‘The Limpet Pick’ Scottish Traditional Tales, ed. by Alan Bruford and Donald A. MacDonald (Edinburgh: Polygon Press, 1994), 369

MacDougall, Donald, ‘MacCodrum’s Seal Wife’ Scottish Traditional Tales, ed. by Alan Bruford and Donald A. MacDonald (Edinburgh: Polygon Press, 1994), 365-67

Macpherson, George W., Highland Myths and Legends (Edinburgh: Luath Press, 2001)

Marwick, Ernest, The Folklore of Orkney and Shetland (Edinburgh: Birlinn, 2000)

McEntire, Nancy Cassell, ‘Supernatural Beings in the Far North: Folklore, Folk Belief, and the Selkie’ Scottish Studies, 35 (2010), 120-143

Ní Fhloinn, Bairbre, ‘Tadhg, Donncha and Some of their Relations: Seals in Irish Oral Tradition’ Islanders and Water-Dwellers, ed. by Patricia Lysaght, Séamas Ó Catháin and Dáithí Ó hÓgáin (Dublin: University College Dublin, 1996), 223-246

Robertson, R. MacDonald, Selected Highland Folktales (Trowbridge: Redwood Books, 1961)

Thordarson, Sveinbjorn, ed., Brennu-Njáls Saga (Icelandic Saga Database, 2007) <http://sagadb.org/brennu-njals_saga>[accessed 7 October 2015]

Towrie, Sigurd, ‘The Origin of the Selkie-Folk’ Orkneyar, website, 2 May 2014 <http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/selkiefolk/selorig.htm> [accessed 6 October 2015]

Towrie, Sigurd, ‘The Original Finfolk’ Orkneyar, website, 2 May 2014 <http://www.orkneyjar.com/folklore/selkiefolk/origins/origin3.htm> [accessed 6 October 2015]

‘Sua fele thar mellyt wer’: the ‘Douglas Larder’ and the Apparent Transgression of Moral Boundaries in Barbour’s Bruce

Callum Watson - PhD History

On Palm Sunday 1307 – according to John Barbour – James Douglas led an attack on the garrison of Douglas Castle while they were hearing Mass. Having taken the unarmed garrison captive, Douglas and his men took them back to the castle, slaughtered them in the cellar, plundered the castle’s stores, poisoned the well, and burned the entire structure to the ground. This act of brutality – subsequently known as the Douglas Larder – is extreme even by the often gory standards of medieval warfare. Its inclusion in a work like The Bruce – in which Douglas is portrayed as a paragon of chivalry, alongside the likes of Hector – is remarkable. My purpose here is to explore the ways in which Barbour attempts to justify Douglas’ actions with reference to his obligations as a loyal knight in the service of King Robert, and what this tells us about Barbour’s understanding of chivalry more broadly.

Image One: Harold swears an oath on holy relics (Bayeux Tapestry, ca. 1070. Tapestry. Musée de la Tapisserie de Bayeux, Bayeux, France).

The first of these obligations results from an exchange between Douglas and the king, which takes place immediately before the events of the Douglas Larder. Douglas seeks permission from the king to visit his lands, which are currently occupied by the English. King Robert is initially unwilling to let Douglas go due to the danger involved, but responds:

“He said, ‘Schyr, nedways I will wend 

And tak that aventur will giff 

Quhether-sa it be to dey or lyff.’”

J. Barbour, The Bruce, Bk. 5, ll. 242-244

This declaration echoes a formula employed repeatedly in Barbour’s Bruce in which characters express the seriousness of their intentions by swearing to carry them out even at the cost of their life. Oath-making was a key part of political life in medieval Scotland, and thus was taken very seriously. Almost every social contract involved the exchange of oaths, and often this was done while touching the Gospels or other holy items. Thus, by having Douglas express himself in these terms, Barbour reinforces Douglas’ resolve.

Image Two: The Bute Mazer (c.1314-1318), a communal drinking vessel decorated with a lion – thought to represent King Robert himself – and the heraldic devices of six of his vassals from the Stewartry, reflecting some of the historical relationships explored in The Bruce. From left to right: Sir Walter Stewart (between the lion’s paws, reflecting his status as the king’s son-in-law), Menteith (a Stewart cadet branch), Susannah Crawford, an unknown FitzGilbert cadet, Sir Walter FitzGilbert of Hamilton, and Sir James Douglas himself.

However, King Robert not only gives Douglas permission to go, he also offers to assist Douglas in the recovery of his lands if Douglas should find anything ‘anoyis or scaithfull’ (distressful or hurtful, Bk. 5, ll. 249) there. This offer is a potentially huge concession on the king’s part, and can be best explained with the reference to the friendship between the two men. Bruce and Douglas’ friendship is the most important relationship in The Bruce (far more important than the one between Bruce and his poor wife, who only appears when she is captured by the English and again when she is released!). Friendship in the medieval period was a formal arrangement that placed specific responsibilities on the individuals involved – including the provision of mutual assistance in the settlement of disputes. Friendship with the king in particular also offered lucrative opportunities for patronage, as well as influence at a governmental level – as is seen repeatedly throughout The Bruce in Douglas’ influence on the king’s decisions, thanks to their closeness. It is Douglas’ friendship with King Robert that enables him to secure permission to visit his lands, but Bruce’s promise to fulfil his duties as Douglas' friend potentially jeopardise Bruce’s recovery of his own inheritance – which is no less than the entire kingdom. Douglas thus finds himself obliged to find a way to relieve the king of this burden, based on the same principle of mutual assistance that led to Bruce’s promise of aid.

Image Three: The Battle of Otterburn (1388) from a fifteenth-century manuscript of Froissart’s Chroniques (Bibliotheque Nationale MS Fr. 2645, fol. 351). Later Scottish chroniclers such as Andrew of Wyntoun blamed this defeat on a lack of prudence on the part of James, 2nd earl of Douglas – the Scottish commander.

Consequently, Douglas is forced to employ unorthodox tactics in order to achieve his ends. To do so, Douglas must apply to the situation what Barbour refers to as ‘worschip’. For Barbour, ‘worschip’ means using ‘wyt’ (intelligence) to govern one’s ‘hardyment’ (boldness), in order to find the most prudent course of action and make the best of the current circumstances. Barbour devotes considerable space in The Bruce to promoting this principle, elevating martial prudence to the level of a chivalric virtue. In an earlier part of the poem, Barbour places a speech in King Robert’s mouth in which he declares that a prudent knight should ‘ay thynk to cum to purpos’ (Bk. 3, ll. 263), meaning that he should always seek success in his military endeavours. It is this principle that guides Douglas’ behaviour while he is visiting his hereditary lands. Barbour even explains Douglas’ specific concerns when slighting the castle (Bk. 5, ll. 268-270, 415-428). On arriving in Douglasdale, he quickly realises that he cannot compete with the English in terms of manpower, so he resolves to combat them with guile. After taking the castle, Douglas recognises that he cannot garrison the castle and hold it himself, and so he destroys it as completely as he can – thereby denying the English the use of it in the future. Douglas thus ensures the best possible outcome, while putting himself and his men in as little danger as possible, and at the same time absolves the king of any obligation to intervene in the situation.

Image Four: Sir James Douglas’ tomb in St Bride’s Kirk, Douglas. This may very well have been the kirk in which Douglas found the English garrison on the day of the Douglas Larder!

In The Bruce, the Douglas Larder is not presented as a vicious act of sacrilege, nor is it presented as an unusually bloody incident in a wider campaign. Rather, Barbour presents it as the tale of a noble knight, alone in enemy territory, drawing on all of his personal resources to fulfil his obligations as a chivalric hero and achieve success in the face of seemingly overwhelming odds.

Works Cited

J. Barbour, The Bruce, (A.A.M. Duncan ed. & trans.), (Edinburgh: Canongate, 1997).

S. Boardman, The Early Stewart Kings: Robert II and Robert III 1371-1406, (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 1996).

M. Brown, The Black Douglases: War and Lordship in Late Medieval Scotland, 1300-1455 (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 1998).

S. Cameron, ‘Chivalry and Warfare in Barbour’s Bruce’, in M. Strickland (ed.), Armies, Chivalry and Warfare in Medieval Britain and France: proceedings of the 1995 Harlaxton Symposium (Stamford: Paul Watkins Pub., 1998).

A. Classen, ‘Friendship – The Quest for a Human Ideal and Value from Antiquity to the Early Modern Time’, in A. Classen and M. Sandridge (eds.), Friendship in the Middle Ages and Early Modern Age: Explorations of a Fundamental Ethical Discourse, (Berlin/New York: De Gruyter, 2010).

R. Hyatte, The Arts of Friendship: The Idealisation of Friendship in Medieval and Early Renaissance Literature, (Leiden/New York: Brill, 1994).

We Are What We Eat and We Eat What We Are – Cannibalism in John Mirk’s Festial; a Transgression against God vs. a Mystical Union with Christ

Joanna Witkowska - PhD Medieval Studies

Image One: A Jewish Woman Devouring Her Child during the Siege of Jerusalem, c. 1413-1415, J. Paul Getty Museum, Los Angeles, MS. 63, fol. 241. (http://www.getty.edu)

There are three narratives in John Mirk’s Festial that can contribute to a discussion about cannibalism – one is about a cannibal mother, another presents a miracle of a bleeding host, and the third one is a story of a Jewish boy receiving the Eucharist from the Virgin Mary.

Unlike most of the other didactic stories of the Festial, the aim of the narrative involving the cannibal mother (Powell 2009, pp. 107-108, ll. 82-92; pp. 125-126, ll. 110-124) is ambiguous, as the narrative in question does not follow a simple 'sin-punishment' order. Hunger and cannibalism are the outcome, already a punishment for the shameful act of rejecting and killing Christ. This can be seen as a warning against committing similar mistakes, or enacting a similar rejection, which can apply to any nation or society. In the end, it may all be about the context, which for the Festial was the Hundred Years’ War (1337-1453), the fairly fresh memory of the Black Death (c. 1348-1350), the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, and the vigorous activity of the Lollards, who questioned some dogmas of the church, including the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist.

Cannibalism is universally considered to be a marker of ‘otherness’, which is reflected in the narrative – a Jewish woman committing an inhuman act is a representative of the nation she belongs to, as opposed to Christian society, where such an act would be unthinkable (Heng 1998, p. 110). However, despite Christianity’s condemnation of cannibalism, it is also a feature of Christian society. For example, some Christian knights participating in the First Crusade were allegedly quite barbaric: cannibalism reported at the siege of Ma’arra, among other locations, presents Christian inhumanity towards Saracen opponents (p. 103).

Which is then more barbaric – a Jewish mother eating her child, or a Christian Crusader eating bodies of his fallen enemies? It may be argued that the woman in the sermon is, in a way, more barbaric, because she kills her child specifically for the purpose of eating it. On the other hand, though the crusaders eat the bodies of their enemies to prevent their own starvation, hunger is not the reason for the killing. Objectively, both actions are equally barbaric, but not to the Medieval Christian audience. The inhumanity of eating a child clashes with the idea of eating those who are considered God’s enemies (Ambrisco 1999, p. 507).

In the Festial, Mirk’s narrative is not focused on the actions of the woman, but on God’s vengeance. It may be going too far to say that Mirk's anti-Lollard writing had anything to do with this story. However, Lollardy, and heresy in general, was considered a rejection of Christ, an attack on His Church, and a betrayal of the one true faith. If the fall of Jerusalem is an example of divine punishment – torment reserved for those who actively oppose Christ – then reform according to Lollard beliefs would qualify for a similar type of retribution.

Image Two: Bleeding Host of Dijon, Hours of Mary of Burgundy, c, 1470s. Vienna, National Library MS. 1857, folio 2v

Eucharistic cannibalism in Mirk’s Festial is best presented in a narrative about a baker, Lasyna, who does not believe in Transubstantiation because she bakes the host wafers and is certain that there is nothing extraordinary about them (Powell 2009, pp. 158-159, ll. 163-180). Gregory the Great and the whole community pray for a miracle and the Eucharist wafer turns into a piece of bleeding flesh, which is presented as proof of the real presence of Christ in the Sacrament. Here, cannibalism seems acceptable and no one is disturbed by it – it is God’s miracle. Clearly, even if one believes in the real presence of Christ’s flesh in the Eucharist, there is a significant difference between consuming raw human flesh and consuming it in the form of bread (Himmelman 1997, p. 187). However, Geraldine Heng argues that the underlying cannibalism of the Eucharist could have contributed to the reoccurring emergence of dissent groups denying the real presence of Christ in the Sacrament (Heng 1998, p.109).

Image Three: Desecration of the host, British Library MS. Harley 7026. Detail of a marginal painting of two men desecrating the host, in the lower margin of the folio. (http://www.bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/welcome.htm)

A story connected both to miracles of a bleeding host and to a narrative of a cannibal woman is a story about a Jewish boy receiving Eucharist from the Virgin Mary (Powell 2011, pp. 205-206, ll. 201-220). As Miri Rubin argues in her book Gentile Tales, the story was common and would usually be connected to stories of host desecration, blood drinking, and the kidnapping of Christian children by Jewish people (Rubin 1999, p. 122). These accusation stories seem to intensify, starting with episodes of stealing and desecrating host wafers, which were believed to be Christ’s flesh, and evolving into these kidnappings. The Jewish boy in the narrative receives Communion and his father tries to kill him for it. In the context of sacred cannibalism that takes place here, the boy becomes spiritually one with Christ – he is figuratively Christ – and the father’s attempt to kill his son metaphorically represents the situation of Christ’s Crucifixion. The father is a representative of the nation blamed for killing Jesus, just like the cannibal mother.

In conclusion, whether literal or figurative, cannibalism seems to cause unease. The disturbing nature of literal cannibalism is unquestionable, whether it is a mother killing her child to satiate hunger, or a hungry crusader knight desperately eating his enemies. It is therefore a perfect medium to convey otherness, either as a sign of the barbarity of the enemy, or as a statement of one’s own national identity. The figurative cannibalism involved in consuming the Eucharist is no less disturbing, especially if it resulted in dissent over the real presence of Christ’s flesh in the Sacrament. However, its cannibalistic nature is hidden and it is a more acceptable notion. After all, literal cannibalism often qualifies as divine punishment, in absolute contrast to the Eucharist, which is a blessing in disguise and a bodily and spiritual cure.

Works Cited

Ambrisco, Alan S. “Cannibalism and Cultural Encounters in Richard Coeur de Lion.” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies. Duke University Press. Fall 1999, 29:3, pp. 499-528.

Heng, Geraldine. “Cannibalism, the First Crusade, and the Genesis of Medieval Romance. " Differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies. 10.1, 1998, pp. 98-174.

Himmelman, Kenneth P. “The Medicinal Body: An Analysis of Medicinal Cannibalism in Europe, 1300-1700.” Dialectical Anthropology. Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1997, 22: pp. 183-203.

Powell, Susan, ed. A Critical Edition of John Mirk's ‘Festial’, edited from British Library MS Cotton Claudius A.II: Volume 1. New York: Oxford University Press, 2009.

---. A Critical Edition of John Mirk's ‘Festial’, edited from British Library MS Cotton Claudius A.II: Volume 2. New York: Oxford University Press, 2011.

Rubenstein, Jay. “Cannibals and Crusaders.” French Historical Studies. Duke University Press. 22 Sep 2008, pp. 525-552.

Rubin, Miri. Gentile Tales: the Narrative Assault on Late Medieval Jews. London: Yale University Press, 1999.

Call for Papers - Fall 2015

The Late Antique and Medieval Postgraduate Society (LAMPS) invites postgraduate research students to present their research at our weekly Monday seminars.

LAMPS aims to provide an engaging forum for cross-disciplinary discussions that focuses on the Late Antique and Medieval periods. Proposals on the study of these time periods as well as topics pertaining to the reception and perception of the Late Antique and Medieval periods from later sources are all welcome. Students from all disciplines, and at any stage of their research are welcome to submit papers. This opportunity provides postgraduate students not only a chance to hone their presentation skills, but it also offers valuable peer support.

For the Fall 2015 semester, LAMPS requests that all submissions explore the theme of Borders and Boundaries. The theme is designed to be broad in order to explore the ways in which different groups in society perceived borders and boundaries across the Late Antique & Medieval period. Possible paper topics include, but are not limited to: the boundaries between reality and imagination, working within or outside of set boundaries, transgressing literary tropes, natural divisions, frames, old and new frontiers of research, national partitions, and social taboos.

Presentations should be around 20 minutes and are accompanied by 10 to 15 minutes of discussion. If you are interested in applying please send a 250 word abstract along with your details and a brief introductory statement about yourself to lampsedinburgh@gmail.com by the 15th of August.

Lectures will take place on Mondays between September 21st and November 23rd, so please let us know about any potential scheduling conflicts as soon as possible. 

A Framework for Exploiting God's Creation - Agricultural Estates and Settlement Landscapes in Early Medieval Dumfriesshire

Christoph Otte – PhD History  

In the 1970s scholars of medieval economy proposed a model framework in which early medieval estates and settlements could be understood in northern Britain, variously known as ‘shire’ or, more commonly, ‘multiple estate’ model (Jones 1971; Barrow 1973). The ‘multiple estate’ model envisages a group of settlements, inter-connected within the boundaries of an estate. The administrative and legal centre of the estate would be the lord’s hall. The surrounding settlements would owe labour services to the lord, such as ploughing his fields or paying rent in kind. Another element of this model is a central church, in charge of the spiritual welfare of the estate population, often situated close to the lord’s hall. As a result, there have been suggestions that in many cases parish boundaries and estate boundaries overlap to considerable extent, as they both potentially address the same population (see Fig. 1; Barrow 1973, pp. 50-63; Winchester 1985, p. 90). It should be noted that this is a generalised model, and requires testing in each individual case.

Fig. 1: The model of the ‘multiple estate’.

The focus of my PhD thesis is the kingdom of Bernicia from c. 600 AD to 800 AD, which encompasses, at least partially, the area of modern Dumfriesshire (Rollason 2003, pp. 20-36 and pp. 87f). The aim of my research is to demonstrate whether the ‘multiple estate’ can be traced in the local settlement patterns of this area, or whether an alternative model might be needed. This investigation relies on a few select case studies based on parishes due to their possible connection with estate boundaries.

Fig. 2: The county of Dumfriesshire, and the parish of Lochmaben, within the southern Scottish context.

In the case study excerpt presented here, I am investigating the landscape of the parish of Lochmaben. My starting point is the pattern of place-names in Dumfriesshire in the aforementioned parish. As an example, the distribution of the Scandinavian place-name element –thveit, referring to clearings or cleared land, can be compared with that of –bý place-names, also of Scandinavian origin and referring to farms or settlements (Fellows-Jensen 1991, pp. 83-87). Both place-name elements are generally dated to the tenth or eleventh centuries and attributed to Scandinavian settlers moving into the study area from Cumbria or other parts of northern England. It is notable that –bý place-names have a more easterly bias, whereas the –thveit elements tend to occur further west.

Fig. 3: The distribution of –thveit and –bý place-names in Dumfriesshire.

This may indicate that the incoming settlers first founded –bý settlements or renamed existing ones with that element, and at a later stage cleared the more marginal lands in order to expand pasture or arable tracts, creating –thveit name settlements. It is remarkable with regard to the parish of Lochmaben that the very part of the parish in which we find –thveit place-names is also the part where the parish boundaries leave their normal route, usually defined by natural features such as rivers and upland ridges, and instead extend into the south-west.

Fig. 4: The –thveit place-names of Lochmaben.

It looks like this section of the boundaries had been super-imposed onto a pre-existing land unit, possibly as a result of the founding of the –thveit place-names. The outline of the parish of Lochmaben excluding the upland extension to the south-west, in the following referred to as proto-Lochmaben, may therefore pre-date the tenth or eleventh centuries in which these settlements may have been founded. Comparative case studies of other parishes will, of course, provide a fuller picture.

Fig. 5: The potential extent of proto-Lochmaben.

Leaving the investigation of boundaries aside, the study of estates and early medieval economy should always take into account the population it was meant to support, and the means by which the land was cultivated. Another way of approaching the question of settlement patterns is therefore to try and gain a sense of the population dimensions for the given area. For this purpose, I used the hypothetical boundaries of proto-Lochmaben. The deduction of major woodlands and water bodies - taking into account that some lochs were drained as late as the nineteenth century - from the total area of proto-Lochmaben has left me with an area of land which may potentially have been agriculturally exploited for the support of the local population in the early middle ages. These are, of course, rough estimates, as the soil quality is not at present taken into account.

Fig. 6: Calculating the usable land (arable, pasture) of proto-Lochmaben.

According to Marcel Mazoyer and Laurence Roudart (Mazoyer and Roudart 2006, pp. 242-45), a farmer with the cultivation implements used in antiquity and the early middle ages (such as an ard, a type of simple plough) could support a family of five on 33.5 ha of land (which includes arable, pasture and a small portion of woodland) in cold temperate climate, or on 61 ha of land in harsher, colder conditions. Due to uncertainties about early medieval climate and soil conditions in Dumfriesshire, I used the middle value of these estimates and applied them to the area of wood- and water-free land calculated for proto-Lochmaben, resulting in a population potential of 408 people. Distributed amongst the five settlements which I am currently prepared to date to the early medieval period between c. 600 AD and 800 AD, this would give a result of c. 81 people per settlement. This number, although obviously presenting a very rough estimate and open to some imprecision, is still remarkably close to the average of 80 people per vill estimated for some areas covered by the eleventh-century Domesday Book economic survey initiated by William the Conqueror (Maitland 1897, pp. 17-20).

At a later stage in my studies, these estimates can give an idea of how much land would be needed per settlement, which in turn might have impacted the configuration of settlements within an estate. Another point which may help illuminate the landscape is to take into account the agrarian reality of the population. The speed of the oxen which are needed to draw ploughs or ards would necessarily limit the distance between a settlement and its pertaining arable fields. It is these practical and spatial considerations which I hope to employ in creating a better understanding of the early medieval rural economy of Dumfriesshire.

Fig. 7: Stilt and head of a prehistoric ard shown in the National Museum of Scotland. Note the illustration below it showing how it would be fitted to a beam, which in turn would be drawn by the draught animal (photograph by author).

Works Cited

Barrow, Geoffrey W. S., The Kingdom of the Scots (London, 1973).

Fellows-Jensen, Gillian, ‘Scandinavians in Dumfriesshire and Galloway: The Place-Name Evidence’, in Galloway. Land and Lordship, eds. R. Oram and G. Stell (Edinburgh, 1991), pp. 77-95.

Jones, Glanville R. J., 'The Multiple Estate as a Model Framework for Tracing Early Stages in the Evolution of Rural Settlement', in L'Habitat et les Paysages Ruraux d'Europe, ed. F. Dussart (Liège, 1971), pp. 251-267.

Maitland, Frederic W., Domesday Book and Beyond (Cambridge, 1897).

Mazoyer, Marcel and Roudart, Laurence, A History of World Agriculture from the Neolithic Age to the Current Crisis (London, 2006).

Rollason, David, Northumbria, 500-1100: Creation and Destruction of a Kingdom (Cambridge, 2003).

Winchester, Angus J. L., 'The Multiple Estate: A Framework for the Evolution of Settlement in Anglo-Saxon and Scandinavian Cumbria', in The Scandinavians in Cumbria, eds. John R. Baldwin and Ian D. Whyte (Edinburgh, 1985), pp. 89-102.

Copyright information for mapping layers in Figs. 2-6:

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (OS Terrain 5 DTM [ASC geospatial data], Scale 1:10000).

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (GB National Outlines [SHAPE geospatial data], Scale 1:250000).

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (Boundary-Line [SHAPE geospatial data], Scale 1:10000).

© Crown Copyright and Database Right 2015. Ordnance Survey (1:25 000 Raster [TIFF geospatial data], Scale 1:25000).

Creating an International Visitor Attraction in 5th century Egypt: the Story of Abu Mina and the Pyxis of St. Menas

Hugh Thomson - MSc Late Antique, Byzantine and Islamic Studies 

Alexander Nesbitt, an English visitor to Rome, acquired a small ivory box from a dealer in antiquities sometime before 15th June 1871. The box, 8 cm high and 10.7 cm across, is now in the British Museum (British Museum accession number 1879, 1220.1). It has lost its hinged cover, its base, and the lock which once kept its contents secure. The rim is chipped in places and the fine carving smoothed with wear (Weitzmann 1979).

Similar small round boxes (Greek: pyxis) were used since ancient times as containers for cosmetics. In an ecclesiastical context, a pyxis containing consecrated bread for the sick was one of only two items allowed to be stored on a church altar (Nesbitt and Garrucci 1874). Nesbitt’s learned friend, Padre Raffaelle Garrucci, noted in 1871 that the iconography on this particular pyxis was inappropriate for this purpose. However, he, and others since, overlooked a feature which suggests that this conclusion may not be correct.      

Figure 1. Pyxis (British Museum)

            

The contents of the basket on the ground behind the seated figure are probably loaves of bread; identical representation occurs on a fragmentary pyxis from Syria, also in the British Museum, which clearly shows the distribution of bread from a similar woven basket.

Figure 2. Daniel Pyxis (British Museum)

The style of the carving on Nesbitt’s pyxis is consistent with that of consular diptychs of the early sixth-century. Scholars disagree on the location of the workshop in which these artefacts were produced, but “the attribution of the diptychs to Alexandria, or at least to an atelier of Alexandrian style and tradition operating in Constantinople, is supported by some very serious considerations” (Morey 1941, p. 45).

The iconography on the pyxis is in three parts – a scene of judgment, an execution and the representation of a saint standing as an orant beneath an arch, attended by two female and two male pilgrims.

Figure 3. St. Menas (British Museum)

The saint depicted is Menas, patron saint of Coptic Egypt. In 1942 he was credited by Patriarch Christopher II with stopping the German advance on Alexandria when it approached the site of his original shrine, not far from El Alamein. His image, standing with arms outstretched between two camels’ heads is “the most immediately recognisable of all such images” (Montserrat 1998, p. 270). Clay flasks, which once contained oil sanctified by contact with the soil above his tomb, are found throughout the territory of the Roman empire – in Britain, Spain, Sicily, Sardinia, France, Italy and Greece, as well as in Egypt and North Africa.          

Figure 4. Pilgrim flask (Louvre)

       

Who was this Egyptian saint and how did he acquire his international reputation? Nothing is known about his life – a Greek Martyrdom, written by Cyrus of Panopolis following his exile to Cotyaeum in Phrygia in 441, presents Menas as an Egyptian soldier martyred in Asia Minor whose remains were returned to Egypt, but “no serious scholar accepts this” (Drescher 1946, p. i).

The pyxis came from the church of St. Paul without the Walls, which was founded by the Emperor Constantine, rebuilt on a much larger scale by Theodosius and extensively modified under Pope Gregory the Great. Gregory preached a sermon in this church, in a chapel dedicated to Menas (Nesbitt and Garrucci 1874). The original building burned down in 1823 and it seems likely that the pyxis was acquired as salvage after the conflagration.

Excavations at the site of Menas’ shrine at Abu Mina, 43 km west of Alexandria, have established that local villagers erected a small mausoleum of sun-dried mud-brick above the site of a body placed in a pre-existing hypogaeum. During the fourth century, Menas’ shrine, believed locally to have healing powers, was no different from many others scattered across the Egyptian countryside.

Figure 5. Ruins at Abu Mina (Peter Grossmann)

The subsequent development of the site into a sacred city protected by a garrison of 1200 soldiers was the product of sustained efforts during the fifth century, involving both emperors in Constantinople and patriarchs. The principles of classical town-planning were applied. A ceremonial approach street (embolos) led to a large rectangular square with colonnaded porticoes on all four sides; the street narrows as it approaches the square “to raise the tension of pilgrims arriving for the first time” (Grossmann 1998, p.287). The two main churches were south of this square – one, above Menas’ tomb, was built early in the fifth century. The other, the largest in Egypt at the time, was probably constructed during the reign of Zeno. The city provided pilgrims with lodgings, bath-houses, shops, markets and depositories “where the multitude could leave their clothes and baggage” (Drescher 1946, p.147-8). Hospices, rest-houses and watering-places were established along the route from Alexandria.

Figure 6. Centre of Abu Mina (Peter Grossmann)

These major investments delivered important practical benefits, in addition to the increase of prestige of both imperial and patriarchal administrations. The cult was a unifying feature in an ecclesiastical province in danger of falling apart; pilgrimages and festivals helped with social control, a major problem in Alexandria; the shrine’s baptisteries provided a venue for the conversion of Egypt’s remaining pagans; money contributed by pilgrims played a significant role in financing the established Church. Indeed, in the ninth century, the patriarch complained to the Arab governor of “the poverty of the church, arising from the interruption of pilgrimages to the church of St Mennas” (Drescher 1946, p. xxvi). Evidence that cooperation between Alexandria and Constantinople delivered benefits was particularly important after the Council of Chalcedon (451) plunged Christian Egypt into a state of confusion.

I believe that the pyxis, all that remains from Menas’ chapel in Rome, was commissioned by the imperial chancellery from the workshop that produced consular diptychs and other official ivories. St. Paul without the Walls was itself a very significant destination for international pilgrims. The pyxis, perhaps a part of a set, prominent on the chapel altar and travelling through the city to the houses of the sick and the dying, was designed to bring the officially-sponsored Egyptian shrine to the attention of both travellers and residents in Rome.

Works Cited

Drescher, J. (1946) Apa Mena: a selection of Coptic texts relating to St. Menas, imprimerie de l'Institut français d'Archéologie orientale.

Grossmann, P. (1998) 'The Pilgrimage Centre of Abu Mina' in Frankfurter, D., ed. Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, Leiden: Brill.

Montserrat, D. (1998) 'Pilgrimage to the Shrine of SS Cyrus and John at Menouthis in Late Antiquity' in Frankfurter, D., ed. Pilgrimage and Holy Space in Late Antique Egypt, Leiden: Brill.

Morey, C. R. (1941) 'The Early Christian Ivories of the Eastern Empire', Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 41-60.

Nesbitt, A. and Garrucci, R. (1874) 'XVIII.—On a Box of Carved Ivory of the Sixth Century', Archaeologia, 44(02), 321-330.

Weitzmann, K. and Metropolitan Museum of Art (1979) Age of spirituality late antique and early Christian art, third to seventh century catalogue of the exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, November 19, 1977, through February 12, 1978 /edited by Kurt Weitzmann, New York: The Museum.