Let the Reader Beware
The Rantings and Ramblings of a retired student president of the Carleton College Science Fiction and Fantasy Alliance who is also studying to become a medievalist. Home for this year, but hopefully resuming my M.A. Program in York next year if all goes well.
Martinus (RL: Ross). 23. Male. Massive geek and nerd of many descriptions. Singer (but can't read music). Writer (fanfic). Chronic meta writer. Catelyn Stark/Samwell Tarly hybrid and proud of it. Callsign: Stan.
Resolute and stubborn stan of cerebral protagonists (and antagonists at times), honor-bound soldiers, flawlessly flawed 'righteous' warriors living in fear, walking identity crises (often of the morally-grey variety), children-at-heart, lost souls looking for somewhere to belong, lost souls who keep running, and those characters who take 'working inside the system' as a challenge, not a limitation.
This is not a spoiler-free blog for anything not currently airing.
I love nothing more than when characters reveal themselves while talking about someone else. And there is nothing more innately human than hypocrisy born of fear.
{ wear }
{ GAME OF THRONES }
Is teh suck.
Not that I’ve really started yet (well, I did manage to get my posters rolled up into a tube), but this is already a DoNot Want activity. Do Not Want because it means I’m really leaving, that possibility has become reality and as difficult as things have been for me here a whole lot of it is in my head and there are so many reasons I DO want to stay. So many things I haven’t done.
One of the most compelling rationale my doctors and parents have put forth is that a master’s program in a place like York really ought to be one of the best times of my life, a time when I get to study only what I want/what is directly useful to me with group of people who feel the same way about crumbling ruins and unearthed medieval coins as I do. And that is simply not the case right now, by any reasonsable measure, and since I am lucky enough to have the chance to start over next year after sorting myself out I should not hesitate to take care of myself first.
So I wish laying out suitcases and and sizing up my books and laundry wasn’t so blasted difficult.
On the flip side, I’m planning day trips to either Richmond or Peterborough on Tuesday and Durham on Wednesday, so I’ve got a lot still to look forward to. I just need to make the best of the time I have left.
I’m flying a bit earlier in the week than expected to give me extra time to pack and a chance for a day trip or two to one of the many medieval sites in Yorkshire I haven’t gotten around to seeing.
It’s a really hard choice to make, but things has been getting increasingly Not Good and I was missing classes because I was such a mess.
I’ve never really sought out what my home area has to offer - I’ve always been so fixated on other things and places, but this time I’ll make a real effort to see what’s out there and maybe meet some people. I’m determined not to sit around being miserable while I put myself back together. And hopefully I can keep my intellectual juices flowing with tumblr meta and reading some of the dozens of books I’ve acquired over the last year.
it comes with being an aspiring medievalist with a deep fascinating for the cult of the saints in all of its theological, political, and cultural facets.
But I actually burst out laughing in absolute bewilderment today while reading the following in the hagiography of St. Cuthbert (c. 634-687), Northumbrian monk and bishop, formerly of Melrose and Lindisfarne and then Durham:
When [Cuthbert] was a boy of eight years, he surpassed all of his age in agility and high spirits….[he and his friends] began thereupon to indulge in a variety of games and tricks; some of them stood naked, with their heads turned down unnaturally towards the ground, their legs stretched out and their feet lifted up and pointing skywards*…now among them was a certain child scarcely three years old who began to call out to him repeatedly: “Be steadfast and leave this foolish play.” Seeing his command disregarded, he thereupon wept and became almost inconsolable. At last being asked what was the matter with him, he began to cry out: “O holy Bishop and priest Cuthbert, these unnatural tricks done to show off your agility are not befitting you or your high office.”
From ‘The Anoynmous Life of St. Cuthbert,’ trans. B. Colgrave.
What even is my life?
Does this remind you of anyone?
Chruch of St. Denys, Walmgate, York. First mentioned c. 1154.
Stained glass mostly 14th-15th c. except for 12th century roundel. Norman (c.1160) doorway re-sited from elsewhere in the church (which was once three times its current size).
Unusually dedicated to St. Denis of Paris, a Cephalophore (head-carrier) Martyr and Patron Saint of France.
Exploring random passageways
Today’s finds included the remains of an Anglo-Norman house.
Namely, I was just cast as the antagonist in the Lords of Misrule’s ‘Sir Gawain and the Green Knight!’
So I’ve been in York a few days now, and thought I’d catch up my tumblrfolk.
(some repeat pictures, but whatevs)
Thursday 6 October 8 AM: after an overnight flight in which I got exactly zero minutes of sleep, this is what greeted my similarly fatigued father and I. Also an ‘adventure’ with an incompetent rental car dealer that left us about an hour behind schedule with no GPS, no map, sketchy directions printed on a dying printer, and a car about half again as large as we wanted. So things were going well…
Things did start to clear up a bit, and we got some better directions, although I was not exactly the most effective navigator in the world because I kept nodding off every five minutes.
Eventually, we arrived in York.
In the City of York
We mostly collapsed into a hotel bed the first day, but did try to familiarize ourselves with the major landmarks of the city (and I took a nap at 4 PM and woke up at 7 PM and it was dark outside and immediately asked Dad why he had let me sleep until the next morning).
The York Minster, a masterpiece of Gothic architecture begun in 1270 and finished in 1472. I haven’t actually done a proper inch-by-inch visit of this church, yet, though Dad and I did go to Matins on Sunday (which were dedicated to the judiciary of Yorkshire and thus had many men (and a few women) in silly awesome costumes and wigs) and a full ceremonial band and fanfare.
Clifford’s Tower, the last original remnant of the fortress rebuilt in the 13th century upon the site of a Norman motte and bailey castle (one of two in the city). Ihaven’t actually been in here yet, but that will change soon, I hope. Perhaps tomorrow if the weather is not too nasty.
Yours truly in front of my home for the next year, the Centre for Medieval Studies at King’s Manor. So called because it was a royal residence of King Charles I, it was formerly the Abbot’s Residence of the nearby (as in, practically in the backyard) St. Mary’s Abbey. The CMS is housed in an 18th century building while the 18th Century Studies and Conservation offices are housed in a 15th century building. No, there is no actual explanation for this. Also at KM is the department of Archeology.
Walking the Walls
Walmgate Bar, including the medieval barbican. The towers of the Minster are visible in the background.
So, a few days after arriving in York, I finally had a chance to meet up with another tumblr friend and medieval archeology student, gunhilde. What do a pair of history enthusiasts in an ancient British city do upon their first meeting? Why, walk the city walls, of course. The walls, mostly built from the 12th-14th centuries atop their Norman and Roman predecessors, surround about 60 percent of the city, and are in remarkably good condition. They run about two miles total. There’s a substantial ‘gap’ in them around the former site of York Castle - this is because William the Conqueror’s engineers diverted the River Foss to flood the area surrounding the Norman motte-and-bailey fortifications, turning the entire area into a swamp. The Foss has since been unblocked.
Our tour brought us into the Museum Gardens behind King’s Manor, which include the ruins of the Multiangular Tower, a medieval defensive structure built directly upon a Roman foundation (it formed one of the corners of the Roman Legionary camp at Eboracum). It’s a fantastic bit of ‘visual’ history: the red line of brick marks the transition from Roman to Medieval.
St. Mary’s Abbey was founded in the 11th century and rebuilt in the Gothic style in 1271. It became one of the wealthiest foundation in the north of England until the Dissolution. Now the impressive ruins of the north wall of the nave and part of the west-facing wall of the north transept are all that remain.
Hidden Gem: The Church of St. Denys, Walmgate
On the way back from the walls, I stopped by the unassuming church of St. Denys. It was completely empty inside, but I found some terrific 15th century stained glass (and some older stuff!)
St. Denys, the church’s namesake and the patron saint of France. As I’ve mentioned before, he belonged to a class of martyrs known as ‘celphalofore’ (Grk: ‘head-carrier’). After he was executed at the present site of Paris’s Monmartre Basilica, he walked several miles carrying his own head to his final resting place at the present site of the Abbey of St. Denis to the north of the city. Or so the legends say.
Finally, there was a real treat: a pair of roundels from the 12th century:
On the Road: Rievaulx Abbey
As a bit of a 23rd birthday present for myself, I organized a trip up to Rievaulx Abbey, one of the most picturesque and complete monastic ruins in the whole of Europe, and also the subject of a 25-page paper I wrote two years ago. Coming along with me and my dad were gunhilde and Rinielle (who I had finally met for the first time).
Because it’s North Yorkshire and we had no proper map or GPS, we got lost.Also because it’s Yorkshire, we ran across a different abbey ruin than the one we were looking for.
Byland Abbey, as seen from a car travelling at fairly rapid speeds. Another ruin of a Cistercian Abbey (they literally litter northern England, Scotland, and Wales).
Eventually, we did get there, as as Rini mentions, we did sort of have to break in, since the ruin was technically closed. Still, all that stopped us was a low fence that didn’t actually lock, so I don’t feel too bad about it.
Mind, it was a bit unnerving when three F-15 RAF fighter jets flew directly overhead.
Moment of terror over, the four of us set about exploring the abbey. Here’s a few of the highlights.
Ruins of the Refrectory
larly o
Ruins of Abbot Aelred’s Chapter House. I was particularly off-the-rails excited for this because it formed a pretty decent chunk of the argument of my paper. Essentially, nearly all Cistercian houses had a community of lay brethren, that is, members of the monastic community who had not been required to take vows. Cistercian monasteries were supposed to function as self-sufficient entities in order to avoid unnecessary and potentially spiritually harmless contact with the outside world (which is also why they tended to be built in very remote areas). Generally there was a fair bit of tension between the lay brethren and the brothers. Aelred was remarkable in building a Chapter House large enough to house both elements of Rievaulx’s monastic community, so that the lay brethren could hear sermons from the abbot, readings from the gospels, and generally be far more involved in the life of the community. Aelred’s initiative was more or less unique in Cistercian history. Sadly, this outline and the broken remnants of his predecessor’s tomb is all that remains. Aelred himself was buried in the Chapter House, though his remains have likely been destroyed by the Dissolution.
The ruins of the great Abbey Church, from the nearly completely destroyed west end. The vast majority of the surviving building is the 13th century Gothic choir, completed after the monastery had gained unexpected wealth and prestige.
Intact groin vaulting in the remnants of the north transept.
Looking back to the west from the end of the choir.
Hopefully more to come!
There’s a copy of it hanging on the wall of our main lecture hall at King’s Manor.
