The chessmen were found by a farmer on the Isle of Lewis, the largest of Scotland’s Outer Hebrides, in 1831. The Lewis chess pieces seem to have been buried in a sand dune, possibly in a stone cist, near Uig. We don’t even know exactly when they were found, just that it was before 11 April 1831, the date of the first published record. The find includes 93 chessmen from at least four different set, none of them complete, some pieces resembling checkers (possibly for use in Hnefatafl or one of the other similar medieval board games) and a carved ivory belt buckle.

Sir Frederic Madden, the first editor of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, first published a description of the finds in 1832 (“Historical remarks on the introduction of the game of chess into Europe and on the ancient chessmen discovered in the Isle of Lewis.” Archaeologia XXIV (1832): Queen no. 2, p. 217). The British Museum very quickly purchased most of the pieces. In 1888 the National Museum of Scotland obtained the remaining 11 that had remained in private collections. Today we have 93 Isle of Lewis chess pieces, 11 pieces belong to the National Museum of Scotland in Edinburgh. The other 82 pieces are in the British Museum.

Bishop

King

Warder

The pieces are strikingly detailed, carved from walrus ivory ranging from 1 5/8 inches to just over 4 inches tall. When they were found, at least some of the pieces were stained carmine red (the convention of black and white pieces is fairly modern, in terms of a game with a history that dates to ). Assuming the Game and Playe of the Chesse was fairly similar to today’s chess, a board big enough for the pieces to be arranged in initial formation would be about 82 cm/32 inches across. They were, based on the era and stylistic features shared with sculptures in Trondheim, most likely made in Norway, c. AD 1150–1200. That would be during the time when the Western Isles including the Hebrides were controlled by Norway. They would have been expensive, and regarded as luxury items.

The faces and expressions are very individualized, and realistic. There are interesting touches that provide characterization; one of the warders, or rooks, is biting his the top edge of his shield in an echo of the Old Norse description of a berserk in Snorri Sturluson’s Ynglinga saga, part of Sturluson’s Heimskringla c. 1230. The Queen very much has a woe-is-me expression; the King while sitting, has his sword drawn and ready. The pawns are all either grave markers, or rune stones, depending on one’s cultural take.

Art historians and chess experts have hypothesized that the hoard might represent the remainders of four complete sets; the sets as hypothesized mean the current pieces are lack a knight, 4 warders or rooks, and 45 pawns, in order to complete four sets.

I suspect the recent resurgence of interest in the Isle of Lewis pieces has something to do with the use of replica pieces in the “Wizard’s Chess” that Ron and Harry play in the film of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone. I tried rather hard to learn to play chess, thinking I’d purchase this resin replica set of pieces and board based on the Lewis pieces, but alas, I play so poorly that only my computer will attempt to teach me.

St. Cuthbert's Gospel f.11

Thanks to a spectacular 9 million pounds fund-raising effort (the most successful in its history) the British Library has successfully acquired BL Additional MS 89000, better known as the St. Cuthbert Gospel.

Previously part of the library of Durham Cathedral, he Gospel is a copy of the Gospel of St John, and the earliest complete European book. St. Cuthbert’s Gospel created in the late 7th century in the north-east of England and placed in St Cuthbert’s coffin, c. 698. When the coffin was opened in Durham Cathedral in 1104 in order to remove Cuthbert’s body and install it to in new shrine, the manuscript was removed and kept in the cathedral library.

The beautiful maroon leather binding featuring twining branches and fruit is the original late seventh-century binding over boards, with flax thread.

St Cuthbert Gospel Late 7th century binding

You can read more about the St. Cuthbert’s Gospel on the British Library’s blog. The entire manuscript has been completely digitized and is available  on the British Library’s Digitised Manuscripts site. The BBC has video.

Found in County Fermanagh in 2009

The torc was found by metal detector Ronnie Johnston Corrard, near the Belle Isle estate in county in Fermanagh in 2009. He didn’t recognize it as a 3,000 year old gold ornament at first, and, thinking it was an old car spring, tucked it in the back of a drawer.

It’s quite large, mostly gold, and  dates from 1300-1100 B. C. E. The BBC article asserts that it “would probably have been worn around the waist.”

I confess to being puzzled by that assertion.

You can read about it your self here.

Read about other torcs here.

I’m delighted that Medievalist bloggers Scott Nokes and Michael Drout of Wormtalk and Slugspeak are back blogging. (Professor Drout also began blogging in 2002). The blogosphere, as some call it, has changed a lot since I started, but then so have I. Michelle Ziegler is actively blogging at Heavenfield, Tim Clarkson at Senchus, and a number of other medievalists in the blog roll to the right are still going strong, but I’m especially happy to see Scott and Michael back and blogging.

January saint’s days include the Feast of the Circumcision on the first, the Epiphany on the sixth, Saint Agnes on the twenty-first, and the Conversion of Saint Paul on the twenty-fifth, among other feats. Typically the calendar page will show the sign of Aquarius, the water-bearer in a border (at the top of the full size page of this folio) and/or of Janus, the two-faced deity associated with doors, and beginnings and endings of years. Books of Hours for January are very fond of feasting images, like this one from the Trés Riches Heures:

Trés Riches Heures Musée Condé MS. 65 f.

This particular feasting image might be set at New Years or the Feast of the Epiphany, or Twelfth Night. The seated gentleman on the right with the fancy hat and the blue and gold robe is the Duke himself. Behind him is a very large fireplace. Above the fireplace the red and blue banner features Jean de Berry’s heraldic devices—the swan and the fleur de lys. At the very top edge of the banner are two bears—a reference to the Duke’s beloved Ursula. Behind the dining scene is a large, expensive tapestry that seems to be showing a scene from the Trojan wars. The damask tablecloth and the large, ornate salt cellar in the shape of a ship are items that are listed in inventories of the Duke’s household possessions.

The two richly dressed in grey and green young men on the opposite site of the table appear to be his cupbearer and carver, respectively; these are squires or young courtiers, rather than servants. Notice the dog, a white hunting hound, begging (and receiving) food from a courtier. At the far right on the table, just at the edge, two kittens appear to be playing. In the back new guests are just entering, stretching their hands towards the fire, while they look at the guests.

Art historians have attempted to identify some of the figures besides the Duke. For instance, the gentleman to the Due’s right, with the tonsure and the reddish-purple robe is possibly the Duke’s close friend Martin Gouge, the Bishop of Chartres. In the crowd of people entering on the left, behind the table, is a fellow with a white or gray floppy cap. He’s behind a figure dressed in green with a large red hat. The person is the white hat is possibly the artist Paul de Limbourg. The same person is also featured in images in two other mss. that the Limbourgs created, the Petites Heures (Bibliotheque Nationale, Paris) and the Belles Heures (The Cloisters, New York).

January images from books of hours also favor images of people warming themselves by a fire. You’ll often see a lesser image in a border on a January calendar page of people playing winter sports—skating, or as in this image from the Hours of Joanna of Castile, playing ball. Del Kolve has written about Chaucer’s Merchant’s Tale, featuring the marriage of ancient January to young and fertile May, noting the interesting calendrical echoes of images of January and of May in his Telling Images: Chaucer and the Imagery of Narrative II.