Hunting Parties

            Revisiting this tapestry, titled “Hawking Scene,” we recall that five nobles come across five peasants, and that the tapestry subtly depicts a major power divide in the medieval world. In this renewed investigation, we look at the materiality of the tapestry, and a provide a more in-depth view of how medieval hunting actually worked. Both of these explorations will highlight the extravagances of the medieval upper class.

            According to the Harvard Art Museum’s website, this tapestry is made of wool. While wool was by no means luxurious (indeed, it was the most common tapestry material at the time), the tapestry’s size indicates that a number of artists would have fashioned it over a period of months, and that it wasn't cheap. Said artists would have first made a painting, known as a cartoon, depicting what was going to be on the tapestry. This image would have then been laid underneath the warp for reference, while the artists would have constructed the tapestry by adding the weft, and varying the weft's colors in accordance with the cartoon. Such a process wasn't easy, and was indicative of the wealth possessed by those who owned tapestries.¹

            A tapestry like “Hawking Scene,” once acquired by a wealthy individual, would have been used to line a castle wall. Such lining would have served two purposes: insulation, and decoration. Giant wool tapestries trap far more heat than do grey, stony walls, and were accordingly useful during the winter. At the same time, finely decorated tapestries draw far more looks than do grey, stony walls, and kings looking to entertain their varied guests were sure to cover their walls with an array of images. Indeed, it’s a popular misconception that medieval castles were dark, damp, and grey – most walls were covered from top to bottom with colorful tapestries.

Numerous primary sources exist providing accounts of hunting during the Middle Ages. Hincmar of Reims, for example, discusses the presence of hunters, a falconer, and a “hunter of beavers” in the court of Charlemagne. Ermold the Black, meanwhile, describes a hunt undertaken by King Louis and his extensive entourage. King Louis’ hunting party, as described by Ermold, was clearly a larger and more diverse group of hunters than is depicted on the above tapestry. While the tapestry shows a party of four men on horseback accompanied by a few dogs and hawks, Ermold tells us that “numerous groups of young men and boys,” as well as “bands of hunters,” and a “troop of magnates” joined King Louis. Even Louis’s wife tagged along. To further quote Ermold, when the hunt was under way, “The whole world resounded with the constant barking of the dogs, here the cries of men, there the sounds of horns.”

            This rowdier, “partying-caravan” approach to hunting is different from what is presented in  “Hawking Scene.” It can be clearly seen, however, in the Devonshire Hunting Tapestries, currently housed at the Victoria and Albert Museum. These tapestries – one of which is shown below – date to the 1420’s and hail from the same Flemish tradition that gave birth to "Hawking Scene."

           This image provides a detailed view of the “Swan and Otter Hunt” tapestry. Notice the castle in the background, and the Arab on camelback. Notice in particular, however, the extravagantly dressed men and women with their large hats, completely indifferent to the fact that a man is getting mauled by a bear right in front of them.

            In this scene, we see a disconnect that in some way recalls the disconnect visible in “Hawking Scene” – both tapestries feature hunters and “others.” In “Hawking Scene,” the “others” are lowly peasants. In “Swan and Otter Hunt,” the “others” are nobles – guests of honor invited to hitch a ride and witness a hunt merely for excitement’s sake. Indeed, this brings up an excellent point. Hunting during the Middle Ages was, first and foremost, a recreational activity. The nobles who went hunting never needed any of the meat they wrought. The peasants provided enough food. Instead, it was the medieval idea of a good time.

1 Campbell, Thomas P. "How Medieval and Renaissance Tapestries Were Made" The Met's Heilbrunn Timeline of Art History. The Metropolitan Museum of Art, n.d. Web. 07 Dec. 2016

Revisiting the Fragmented Star Tile with Lovers

I first discussed the Fragmented Star Tile with Lovers as an object that signifies the rank of the poet in the Medieval world. The Middle Eastern ceramic tile was one of many made to decorate both religious and secular buildings in the 13^th-14^th century. Its points joined in intricate patterns with other tiles that displayed ornamental designs or verses from the Qur’an. Initially, I looked to the context of the tile’s placement for implications about the Medieval poet. However, after looking more closely at poetry as an art, I have realized that the star tile itself also embodies many aspects of poetry in the Middle Ages. It exemplifies the mixing of ideas that propagated Medieval culture and integration of art forms that were used to tell stories.

The combination of religious verse and a love scene at first seemed very unnatural, even taboo, to me. Why was a drawing of an intimate scene placed among Qur’anic verse? Would it not have been seen as vulgar? Wasn’t it perhaps disrespectful to the holy? I have since discovered that there was in fact a close connection between religious devotion and passionate love in Medieval world, particularly in Persian poetry. I was introduced to this concept through Rumi, whose work is commonly perceived as love poetry but is based in spirituality and devotion. It struck me as an unlikely pairing, especially since in modern culture we make a clear distinction between “love of God” romantic love. Through Rumi I learned that in the Middle Ages, these two emotions were one and the same. I was surprised by the intensity of the language in his poems­– from “O Love…Robbing the caravan of hearts along the highway” (Lewis 338) to “…this love of yours thirsts for my blood” (Lewis 348). It is natural to wonder if these lines were written to express feelings for a lover, as that is often how the poems are used now. I found it very interesting that the verses were actually dedicated to a friend and spiritual mentor to express love that is, in a sense, religious and devotional. This fact sheds some light on the placement of the Star Tile with Lovers among tiles containing lines from the Qur’an. Not only was it acceptable for the intimate to exist alongside the holy, it was a widespread idea expressed commonly in poetry.

Though we only have pieces of the poem that lined the edges of the star tile, what is left reads as follows:

“. . . wings were broken.
. . . from the prince, felicity came to me.
Even if fate is not auspicious, give in to
your destiny. “
I can safely guess that the man in the drawing is probably the prince and the poem was written from the perspective of the woman, admiring and worshipping him. In this star tile, the central image and bordering poetry work together not only in terms of design, but also to tell the story more completely and more effectively. This is especially important for this fragmented star tile, since the image gives us pieces of the poem that have been broken off and vice versa. A direct parallel can be made here between this sort of visual storytelling and the relationship between Medieval poetry and storytelling in general. When reading the Bayad wa Riyad, I saw how poetry and narrative could propel each other, each enriching the other and driving the plot forward while adding depth to the story. Similarly, on this star tile we see poetry and imagery enhancing each other. The calligraphic poetry frames the lovers both literally and figuratively, adding a unifying visual element to the tile and providing context for the scene depicted. I am curious as to whether this Tile with Lovers was placed with tiles representing more parts of the same tale. Did the storytelling extend beyond this tile to integrate other objects? Were tiles like this made to exist independently at all?

As my learning went beyond the role of the poet and to poetry itself, I was able to recognize that the Fragmented Star Tile with Lovers contained much more information about the Middle Ages than I had initially thought. What I previously pictured as a possible taboo, an outlier to its more pious surroundings, was actually a perfect example of spiritual ideas and a representation of integration in storytelling methods. Aside from the implications about the rank of the poet, the star tile essentially turned out to represent the exact opposite of what I had thought. I've learned that an object is not necessarily what it seems to be at first and that with further study, I can recognize the deeper implications that the artifact might hold.

Reflection of Silver Dirham of Xosrow II

Looking back at my Object of Power post, there is much I can reflect on regarding my initial analysis of the silver dirham and more I can expound on in my object and its relation to the world of the ruler. As a reminder, I chose a silver dirham with the depiction of Xosrow II, the last Great King of the Sasanians. A form of currency used in this Persian kingdom, and many other Arab nations, this silver coin (dated roughly between 590-628 CE) would have been circulated in and throughout the empire reigned by the ruler of the the time, Xosrow II.  In my initial inspection, I observed a depiction of a king pressed into it: A male figure with a beard ornate with what appears to be jewelry along with a very evident illustration of a crown was fixed in the middle of the coin. Surrounding the depiction of the king was what appeared to be fanciful decorative lines, which accentuated the overall image imprinted on the coin: one could definitely speculate this as calligraphy.  In the coin as well appeared to be writing: looking at similar Sasanian coins on the online database of the Harvard Art Museum, it would appear small texts were present in the in almost all the coins, especially in close relation to the image of the king. I would also go on to learn that the silver dirham was called the Kissranid, because it contained the image of the king, or Khusrau: in this case, the Khusrau is the current king of the Persians, Xosrow II.

When I first observed the coin I had speculated that the language written on it was Arabic. However, after asking my professor of the inscription on the coin, Persian was the actual language prescribed on the dinar. And to be more exact, Middle Persian was the more specific dialect. What I failed to realize from my first post was that I had made a connection of the ruler Khosrow II and the Shanahmeh. The Shanahmeh was written in Persian by a Persian Poet, Ferdowsi, so that connection completely eluded. In addition to learning that High Persian was the main language of the Sasanian Empire, I learned that Greek and Aramaic was also present in the early years of the Sasanian Empire-thus it is not uncommon to find dirham containing letters of these languages.  In pursuit of more knowledge regarding the Dirham, I learned that all dirham had similar if not the exact same design, which includes the king bearded and crowned, with his name on the observe of the coin. Thus I stand by my earlier speculation that the name of the king, Xosrow II, is inscribed on the coin. What I didn’t realize in fact was that the text written in the coin was in fact a prayer inscribed within engraving of the king: as Islam had not taken root in this Iranian Empire, one could speculate that this writing was in regards to the official religion of the Sasanian Empire of that time.

Pertaining to this to the role of the ruler, the depiction of the king would have been definitely been something to be imprinted on something present and circulated throughout the kingdom: seeing this coin, an individual would see the depiction of a majestic king, who would be the ruler and protector of the kingdom. As this is a coin, this would have been used on a daily basis for trade, and the individual in ownership of the coin would know who the coin was of and who the protector of the Sasanian Empire was:  The king in this particular case would be Khosrow II, a very powerful and famous ruler of his time. In fact, Xosrow II is given the title as “Last Great King of the Sasanian Empire”. His accomplishments as a king in the Iranian Empire would secure him a role in the future poems, literature and art long after his death, and would later be an inspiration for Persian literature, and be present in texts such as the Shanahmeh, the national Iranian epic. To retain such high regard in his empire, Xosrow II would have made sure to live by a phrase present in On the Governance of the Palace by Hincmar of Rheims, in which Hincmar states, “the king may advance in learning, and in governing the kingdom, he may please God, rule happily in this world, and from the present kingdom attain an eternal one” (Hincmar, 209). Although Xosrow was not Christian, a similar message pertaining to his religion and his role in society would have been just as prevalent: Xosrow is divinely place as king and his role is to ensure the prosperity of his kingdom and people. Hincmar refers to Alexander the Great in his text, and alludes to the downfall of having bad counsel. Similar messages would have been given to Xosrow II, and he would have understood the importance of good counsel. In the Siyar- al-Muluk, translated by the Book of Government or Rules for Kings, Nizam Al-Mulk reveals the importance of good governing as a king, covering topics from “holding courts for the redress of wrongs and practicing justice and virtue” to “obtaining information about the conduct of tax-collectors, judges, prefects of police and mayors, and keeping them in check”. If Xosrow II was as a good of a king as he is believed to have been, such wisdom regarding these things and more, he would have made sure were instilled in his being, in order to be reflective of the majestic and kingly disposition he made sure were put on the silver dirham he had circulated throughout His empire.

Module III Response

            Medieval statues serve to offer insight into the role of the ruler by way of their features and their positioning on buildings and in towns/cities. Rulers were often depicted with crowns or other headgear to signify their superior position. Similarly, statues of rulers were positioned high atop buildings (specifically churches) or made visible in cities/towns. The high positioning of statues on churches, especially, demonstrated the divine right of rulers to rule. The juxtaposition of the ruler with the church was thus very relevant to and significant in medieval culture.

            My object of power, a head of a king, hails from the façade of St. Denis in France. It survives as a remnant of a statue that once stood high atop the church in the company of several other, similar statues. In its present state, this head is more symbolic of the growing unwillingness of the people to accept kings and queens of divine right. This head was, in fact, severed from its body during the French Revolution, epitomizing the message of the revolution: to restore at least some power to the people. Parallels to the sort of unpopular ruler which induced the French Revolution are visible in several of our readings from this class.

            Cat and Mouse tells the tale of a group of mice and a cat (symbolic of a people and their ruler). It is in the cat’s nature to eat mice and to practice cunning behavior. However, the mice hold out hope that the cat can and will change. After eating a mouse, the cat purports to repent his sins and focus on a more “holy” lifestyle, so to say. Despite this, however, the cat sticks to his nature and continues to deceive and kill the mice. In this way, the cat epitomizes a bad ruler. Consider dictators. Many come to power through promises of reform. Take Hitler or Castro, for example. These rulers rely on superficial promises to secure their rise to power but immediately revert to their underlying objective, whether it be promoting the superiority of a particular race or system of government. Similarly, many kings came to power during the Middle Ages by way of divine right, as they were members of royal lineages that essentially had claims to the throne indefinitely. Once in power, these rulers, unlike dictators, were not “bound” by the promises they made, as no promises were made in the first place. These bad rulers may have enacted small reforms here and there, but for the most part, they followed their own agenda, fueled by greed and desire for power. Essentially, Cat and Mouse teaches that despite certain qualifications or behavior, a ruler most always reverts to his nature or preconceived agenda. Just as the cat reverted to eating mice again despite “converting”/repenting, rulers reneged on their promises in favor of their underlying agendas, much to the chagrin of the people.

            From a slightly different perspective, Sekandar’s Conquest of Persia deals more with the intellectual and tactical superiority of rulers/leaders. Just as my object of power was displayed atop the church in a very visible position, this passage serves to clearly outline the qualities of a fit leader during the Middle Ages. Sekandar is described as a brilliant strategist and conqueror. He takes the place of his own envoy to deceive the Persians and sneak behind their lines. However, most interestingly, he does not wish to fight them. He only wishes to travel through their lands to explore the rest of the world. Sekandar only chooses to fight when others do not cooperate. In this way, Sekandar practices a sort of conditional pacifism. He wishes to travel the world and expand Greek influence peacefully but does not hesitate to fight those opposed. Thus, Sekandar can be likened to medieval rulers and my object of power by way of his just rule. It can be argued that statues of rulers on churches could also symbolize the peaceful nature of rulers, in addition to the divine right. The high position of statues on churches also parallels the high intellect/ability of rulers, as is evidenced by Sekandar’s tactics in the passage. Thus, the Middle Ages was populated by a mix of good and bad rulers, among whom similar characteristics persisted.

            The head of the French king thus speaks to the role of the ruler during the Middle Ages in a multifaceted way. The close connection of the ruler and the church helps to explain the shortcomings of the divine right, as well as the popular perception of leaders as superior beings, much like Sekandar was viewed. The fact that the head was eventually severed during the French Revolution relates retroactively to the triumph of the will of the people (consider the Magna Carta possibly). In this way, rulers were both praised and loathed by the people throughout the Middle Ages, all of which provided the necessary knowledge for future generations to learn from successes and failures and establish just rule/government.