Via Comics Alliance:

A poster for your wall, which according to the website’s ad copy, will ensure that:

Students can’t wait to get to your class with this colorful poster decorating your classroom wall. Designed to imitate the style of classic comic book cover designs from the 1960s, it is sure to get your students looking forward to your King Arthur lesson. 

Sadly, since most profs don’t get the luxury of their own classroom, this baby’ll have to go on the office door next to that Wizard of Id cartoon from 1998 in which Sir Rodney expresses some discomfort with a superfluous apostrophe on a nearby merchant’s sign moments before succumbing to the plague.

It’s Google Penance time once again!*  Seems the Google algorithm ferried a confused soul to my post about the silly study that claimed you could tell how big portion sizes were throughout history by looking at famous pictures contained in a single coffee table book, when all said confused soul wanted to know was, “Why are medieval books so big?”**

Ah, my poor wayward Googler, medieval books are no bigger or smaller than modern books, generally speaking.  Gutenberg and the other early printers didn’t invent a whole new format for books, they just copied what people were already using.

The question then becomes, I guess, why were medieval books the size they were?  And the answer to that is simple: medieval books were the size they were because medieval sheep were the size they were.   [continue reading…]

This week’s marginal medieval image is found in the lower margin of a page in Bodleian Library MS Bodl. 264, the mid-fourteenth-century edition of the Romance of Alexander that I’ve featured here quite a bit:* 

To each side of a pair of birds the illuminator has given us a pair of lovers meant to demonstrate that old proverb, “Life ain’t nothing but…”–er, I mean “The more you love someone, the more…”–er, that is, the old truism, “Women! Can’t live with’em, can’t… something something.”  OK, I admit it, I’ve got no clue what’s going on. You tell me.

The couple on the left consists of a homely and/or older lady giving her heart (represented as the actual organ, though without any blood) to a young man who looks like he just smelled something funky:

The couple on the right is composed instead of an eager older man offering a full money purse and a young woman who rejects him:

Will nothing satisfy you young people?  You reject an old man’s money AND an older woman’s offer of a heart she ripped still-beating from the chest of her husband whose sleeves were no where near as fashionable as yours?  Really, there’s just no pleasing some people.

A nice thing about this particular MS 264 artist (several worked on the manuscript) is the attention he gives to faces.  Here, he gives both the unrequiting youngsters the same disinterested nostril flare and pursed lips of disapproval that seem to say, “Ah, yes, your little gift, how… nice.“: 

 
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*How many times can I dip into the same well?  Well, there’s over 500 pages in that particular manuscript, and nearly every one has something** on it.
**Though most of those somethings are birds, and once you’ve seen five or six marginal birds you’ve seen them all. Still, there’s about 100 fully-illuminated pages with multiple marginal elements per page, so if I wanted I could just open a MS Bodl. 264 blog and I’d have posts for years.***
***Though as I said, they’d mostly be bird posts.  People like birds, right?

The response to the Cordoba piece has been quite gratifying, if a bit overwhelming.  But as a result, my inbox is currently flooded with mail–mostly friendly mail, mind you, but flooded still–so some of you may not get a response for some time.*  For those who wrote asking for recommendations of books to read to familiarize yourself with medieval Spanish history, here are a few** recommended to me by people who know a lot more about it than I do to tide you over:

For a general survey, see:

A History of Medieval Spain, by Joseph O’Callaghan
The Medieval Spains (Cambridge Medieval Textbooks), by Bernard F. Reilly

For a bit of cultural history, either of Maria Rosa Menocal’s books will do:

The Ornament of the World: How Muslims, Jews, and Christians Created a Culture of Tolerance in Medieval Spain, or
The Arts of Intimacy: Christians, Jews, and Muslims in the Making of Castilian Culture, written with Jerrilynn D. Dodds and Abigail Krasner Balbale.

For the Arab conquest itself:

The Arab Conquest of Spain: 710-797 (A History of Spain), by Roger Collins

And for the book most conservative respondents have referenced in emails to me:

Moorish Spain, by Richard Fletcher***

Feel free to add a few more book recommendations of your own in the comments section, but remember, the requests are usually for accessible single-volume histories.

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*Though, really, most people who email me know that you might not get a response back for some time even under the best of conditions.  I’m a bad email correspondent.
**All these links will filter through my Amazon Associates account, which will, no doubt, pay me some dividend around the year 2026.
***Who for some reason they all call “the late Richard Fletcher” in their emails to me. This is accurate I suppose, since he is dead, but a weird verbal tic nonetheless.  Whether scholars are dead or alive isn’t usually the first thing I think of when recommending their books.  For the record, Roger Collins is alive and well and writing about the papacy lately; Maria Menocal is alive and always quite friendly when I run into her; Joseph F. O’Callaghan seems to be alive but emeritus, and you can judge for yourself whether that counts as late; and Bernard F. Reilly is alive, emeritus, and writing the occasional medieval novel.

It is with some chagrin that I make this announcement, but here goes: Got Medieval’s on Twitter, too, dammit. And I was so enjoying being oh-so-above-it. But the Twitter, she’s been good to me of late, so I really can’t pretend it makes sense to continue holding out on her.

I imagine that when medievalists decide to make the Twitter plunge they often quote a few lines from The Parliament of Fowls, you know, all blossomy bows and birds singing in angel-voiced harmony and so on, but I feel rather a bit like Chaucer in The House of Fame when the eagle swoops down:

I’m not sure where this bird’s taking me, and I’m pretty sure she’s going to start making disparaging comments about my weight any minute now.  Still, if you’re interested, you can now follow the blog at Twitter, too.  Have at it, hyper-connected folk:

As we all know, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. And as you all know, it’s been my intention to offer my readers a diverting image from the margins of a medieval manuscript at regular one-week intervals–but hell if I can’t actually seem to stick to that schedule.  I promise I’ll be a good boy from here on out, really I will, just please don’t let me end up like these poor souls from the margins of The Taymouth Hours (a fourteenth-century English book of hours currently held at the British Library):

Actually, come to think of it the flaming-wheelbarrow-borne have a pretty sweet deal compared to the other damned souls in the margins in Taymouth.  These guys on the left below have to make do with much more cramped quarters:

Then again, a piggyback ride in a demon’s basket is high cotton compared to these fellows, who don’t even get the dignity of baskets:

Then again again, I suppose it doesn’t matter whether you get folded up into little ball and carried over a demon’s shoulders or if you get a pimped out flaming wheelbarrow.  In the end, it’s straight into the hellmouth for everybody:

Though one wonders where the demon in the far right margin thinks he’s going with that one sinner, exactly.  Apparently, even Satan has a problem with employees helping themselves to the inventory.  In his defense, I suppose the demon could always say, “Hellloooo, demon here, remember? Personification of all sin and vice?  That ring a bell?”

There are any number of reasons why an American might oppose the Cordoba House, the planned $100 million Muslim-financed community center that has come to be known in the press as the “Ground Zero mosque.”  I don’t think any of them are particularly good reasons, but the universe of potential justification is much broader than the narrow scope of this humble blog.  There is one justification being floated around, however, that is both within this blog’s purview and completely and totally bogus.  Indeed, this particular justification is such an egregious and purposeful misreading of medieval history that I feel I must speak up.

Last week,* Newt Gingrich released a Newt Direct statement at Newt.org concerning the project.  As you may have heard, he’s somewhat opposed to it.  And to explain why, he offered this history lesson:

The proposed “Cordoba House” overlooking the World Trade Center site – where a group of jihadists killed over 3000 Americans and destroyed one of our most famous landmarks – is a test of the timidity, passivity and historic ignorance of American elites.  For example, most of them don’t understand that “Cordoba House” is a deliberately insulting term.  It refers to Cordoba, Spain – the capital of Muslim conquerors who symbolized their victory over the Christian Spaniards by transforming a church there into the world’s third-largest mosque complex. […I]n fact, every Islamist in the world recognizes Cordoba as a symbol of Islamic conquest.  It is a sign of their contempt for Americans and their confidence in our historic ignorance that they would deliberately insult us this way. [emphasis mine]

It’s that appositive phrase there buried in the middle of my quote that is the problem.  In these twenty-five words, Newt offers the final word on medieval Cordoba: “the capital of Muslim conquerors who symbolized their victory over Christian Spaniards by transforming a church there into the world’s third-largest mosque complex.”  This fact, the transformation of a church into a mosque, is the only thing we should think of when we hear a modern Muslim use the word “Cordoba,” according to Mr. Gingrich.

Notice how carefully he’s phrased his claim to give the impression that during the medieval conquest of Spain the Muslims charged into Cordoba and declared it the capital of a new Muslim empire, and in order to add insult to injury seized control of a Christian church and built the biggest mosque they could, right there in front of the Christians they’d just conquered, a big Muslim middle finger in the heart of medieval Christendom.  Essentially, they’ve done it before, they’ll do it again, right there at Ground Zero, if all good Christians don’t band together to stop them.

The problem is, in order to give that impression of immediacy, Newt elides three hundred years of Christian and Muslim history.  Three hundred years. The Muslims conquered Cordoba in 712.  The Christian church that was later transformed into the Great Mosque of Cordoba apparently** continued hosting Christian worship for at least a generation after that.  Work on the Mosque didn’t actually begin until seventy-odd years later in 784, and the mosque only became “the world’s third-largest” late in the tenth century, after a series of expansions by much later rulers, probably around 987 or so.

Then there’s the matter of the two odd verbs in Newt’s summation of Cordoba’s history: “transformed” and “symbolized”.  Surely, a mosque as great as The Great Mosque of Cordoba has symbolized a lot of things to a lot of people over the years.  But Muslim historians writing about the Great Mosque don’t point to it as a symbol of Muslim triumph over Christians; rather, they treat it primarily as a symbol of Muslim victory over other Muslims.

Keep in mind that when ground was broken on the Great Mosque, the vast majority of the men who had been personally responsible for conquering the Iberian peninsula were long dead and most of their sons were dead, too.  Sure, a few extremely ancient grey beards might have been present as very, young men, and a few older men might have been able to talk about what their fathers had done during the Conquest, but Muslim control of Spain was simply a fact of life for them, not something they felt they had to justify to the Christians.

The mosque was indeed begun in the wake of a Muslim conquest–just not the conquest of the Christians.  Rather, it was ordered built by the Umayyad emir Abd-ar-Ramman I, probably in part to commemorate his successful conquest of Cordoba in the 750’s, fought against other Muslim chieftains loyal to the rival Abbasid Caliphate, and his successful repulsion of subsequent Abbasid attempts to dislodge him by force throughout the 760’s.***  This is, incidentally, probably why the Great Mosque–unlike almost every other Mosque in the Muslim world–is built facing south. Usually, Mosques are built facing Mecca, as Muslims are meant to pray towards the holy city.  But the Great Mosque is oriented as if it were actually built in Damascus, the original capital of the Umayyads and the city from which abd-ar-Ramman had had to flee in exile when it was conquered by the Abbasids.  Damascus is north of Mecca, while Cordoba is much further west.  By pointing his Mosque south, Abd-ar-Ramman I was telling his Muslim rivals, “This exile to Iberia is a temporary thing; you may hold Damascus for now, but in the eyes of our god, my family still controls it.”

Still, the Muslims did “transform” a Christian church, didn’t they?  Possibly, but only in a very qualified sense.  Most standard histories of Cordoba will note that the Great Mosque is built on the site of the Basilica of St Vincent, Martyr, a Visigothic church that was itself built on the ruins of a Roman pagan temple.  And archaeological work has confirmed that the present site of the Mosque did at one time belong to some sort of Christian church.  There’s no indication that the present-day structure included any elements from that church, though, and exactly when it was razed and under what circumstances is unclear.

Muslim historians of the late tenth century tell that Abd-ar-Ramman bought the church from the Christian congregation after sharing it with them for fifty years “following the example of Abu Ubayda and Khalid, according to the judgement of Caliph Umar in partitioning Christian churches like that of Damascus and other [cities] that were taken of peaceful accord”.****  The Christians, we’re told, took their money and relocated their church to the outskirts of Cordoba.  Now obviously, these are Muslim historians writing two-to-three-hundred years after the events they describe, so we must always take their accounts with a grain of salt (as we would with any historian’s work, Muslim or not) and consider the political motivations responsible for their histories.

These tenth-century historians were writing to please the ears of the Cordoban caliphs, Abd-ar-Ramman III and his successors, in the wake of yet another victory of Muslim over Muslim.  Abd-ar-Ramman III, after all, is the one who declared Cordoba to be an independent caliphate, not just an Umayyad emirate. In rewriting the history of the Mosque of Cordoba, these historians were writing imperial justifications for their patron, explaining why Cordoba deserved to be the capital of its own caliphate, held up as the equal to Damascus, site of the Great Mosque of the Umayyads, and even Mecca, the holiest of cities, which was still under Abbasid control.

This is the important fact that Newt hopes those who read his polemic will be ignorant of: for a ruler to be legitimate in Muslim eyes in the tenth century, during the time when the Great Mosque was being expanded into its present-day dimensions, it was important to emphasize the peaceful succession of Islam from the other religions in the area.  A caliph was expected to have arrived at an accord with the Christians and Jews over which he ruled.******  Far from “symboliz[ing] their victory” the Mosque was held up by Muslim historians a symbol of peaceful coexistence with the Christians–however messier the actual relations of Christians and Muslims were at the time.*******

So what should modern Christians think when they hear a Muslim use the word “Cordoba”?  Well, I know that Newt hasn’t been a Catholic for very long now, but maybe his priest ought to direct him to read a little thing called “The Catholic Encyclopedia“.  Allow me to quote from the 1917 edition (which has the virtue of being in the public domain and easily searchable) and its entry on Cordoba:

In 786 the Arab caliph, Abd-er Rahman I, began the construction of the great mosque of Cordova, now the cathedral, and compelled many Christians to take part in the preparation of the site and foundations. Though they suffered many vexations, the Christians continued to enjoy freedom of worship, and this tolerant attitude of the ameers seduced not a few Christians from their original allegiance. Both Christians and Arabs co-operated at this time to make Cordova a flourishing city, the elegant refinement of which was unequalled in Europe. 

The article then discusses the persecution of the Christians under Abd-ar-Ramman II, which included the martyrdom of St. Eulogius.  Then it continues with the rule of those rulers who expanded the Mosque:

In 962 Abd-er Rahman III was succeeded by his son Al-Hakim. Owing to the peace which the Christians of Cordova then enjoyed […] the citizens of Cordova, Arabs, Christians, and Jews, enjoyed so high a degree of literary culture that the city was known as the New Athens. From all quarters came students eager to drink at its founts of knowledge. Among the men afterwards famous who studied at Cordova were the scholarly monk Gerbert, destined to sit on the Chair of Peter as Sylvester II (999-1003), the Jewish rabbis Moses and Maimonides†, and the famous Spanish-Arabian commentator on Aristotle, Averroes.

So it’s easy to see why a group of Muslims creating a community center in the heart of a majority Christian country in a city known for its large Jewish population might name it “The Cordoba House” They’re not, as Gingrich hopes we would believe, discreetly laughing at us because “Cordoba” is some double-secret Islamist code for “conquest”; rather, they’re hoping to associate themselves with a particular time in medieval history when the largest library in Western Europe was to be found in Cordoba, a city in which scholars of all three major Abrahamic religions were free to study side-by-side.

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*While I was away in Italy.  Suspicious?  I think so. [RETURN]
**This is a loaded “apparently” for reasons that will become clear later in this post. [RETURN]
***If your eyes glaze over at the sea of Abds, Umayyads, and Abbasids, let me put it another way.  If it’s legitimate for Newt Gingrich to say the Great Mosque of Cordoba was built by Muslim Conquerors in their capital city wishing to symbolize their victory over the Christians, then it’d be just as legitimate to describe the Statue of Liberty as being built by English conquerors in their capital of New York to symbolize their victory over the Dutch.
[RETURN]
****Idhari, al-Bayan 2, pp. 341-342.  Cited in Nuha N. N. Khoury, “The Meaning of the Great Mosque of Cordoba in the Tenth Century” Muqarnas, 13 (1996), pp. 80-98.[RETURN]*****
*****Sorry, I know, using a footnote to cite an actual source isn’t really what you expect from me.  Those who traveled down here in search of a joke–maybe some sort of pun on those weird Muslim names–my deepest apologies.
******Again, see Khoury for this, in particular, pp. 83-85. [RETURN]
*******Earlier histories don’t mention the church of St. Vincent at all.  Instead, they refer to the site of the new mosque as a place where the previous ruling Muslim dynasty had mercilessly executed several Muslim martyrs.  So by this reading in creating the mosque, Abd-ab-Ramman I was consecrating the memory of Muslims killed by Muslims, not desecrating the memory of Christians killed by Muslims. [RETURN]

† So that people will stop emailing me… I am well aware that the Jewish jack-of-all-trades that the Catholic Encyclopedia calls Maimonides bore the first name Moses. Nevertheless, I did not misquote the CE; the Rabbi Moses it refers to is probably Rabbi Moses ben Enoch, a 10th-century scholar from Cordoba. So it really is “Moses and Maimonides.” [ /Updated 8-25-10/ [RETURN]

Welcome to August, everyone. According to medieval calendars, August is the month of Virgo, the maiden,* usually represented as a young woman carrying a bunch of flowers or a stalk of wheat, though occasionally as a vain noble woman holding a mirror. Like so:

Medieval astrologers held that the planet Mercury rules Virgo, thus making August a time in which creativity flows. Artists of all stripes, including geometers, mathematicians and their debased kin the merchants are particularly favored during this month. But Saturn, the scythe-wielding wet blanket, also casts an influence, bringing the melancholic temperament to the fore, rendering the season barren. So basically, August is the month for depressed, unproductive creative people. Hooray for writer’s block!

For medieval doctors, Virgo was thought to govern the lower torso generally and stomach ailments in particular, so if you need to bleed the body to deal with cramps or indigestion, doing it when the moon is in the sign of Virgo is your best bet. Since Virgo is an earthly sign, you’ll have double the luck this month if you for some reason need to have your patient expel black bile.

The agricultural task for the month of August is threshing, which I noted in this calendar post from two years ago.

Famous medieval saints whose feasts are found in the month of August include St. Bernard of Clairvaux (August 20), St. Augustine of Hippo (August 28), St. Hugh the Little of England (August 18), and St. Lawrence of Rome (August 10). For a few more, drop on by the August feast calendar post from last year.

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*If that’s confusing to all the Leo’s out there, just remember that the medieval calendars are essentially a sign ahead of modern ones.

Search deep in your memories, loyal readers, and bring to mind the contest held a few months back to pick Got Medieval’s new mascot.  That’s right, the contest won by Egg-Laying Dude, the Dude that Lays Eggs (for some reason). Now search slightly less deep and recall the subsequent contest to create a new version of said mascot suitable for plastering on CafePress bric-a-brac and for inhabiting the upper margin of this here blog.

There weren’t many entries in this second contest, but those who entered were formidable.  And of these formidable entries, one was chosen… and then never announced because this blog’s owner is a busy man and can’t just be announcing winners all the time. But here it is now*, created by Bethany Myers, a graphic designer lately out of California**:

Hooray for Bethany!  And hooray for dudes who lay eggs for some reason!

So, what did our talented winner win? I could tell you to search your memory one more time, but I’ll just go ahead and give you a picture of that, too:

It’s the self-same Dante action figure I got as a freebie the night I picked up my Dante’s Inferno pre-order at Gamestop.  He’s securely packed away in his padded envelope and ready to make the perilous journey through the US Mail.  Fare thee well, Dante.  May Bethany’s shelf be more hospitable to you than mine.

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*Though, if you bothered to look in the blog’s header when you came to read this post, you already knew that.
**If you ever need a logo for your medieval-themed blog or a vector drawing of a zebra, Bethany is the way to go.