Worked red deer antler frontlet. Made from the skull of a large stag. Lines of cut marks made by flint tools show that the skin was deliberately removed from the skull.. The bones forming the top of the nose were then broken off and the edges of the remaining skull part trimmed. The rim of the brain case has been smoothed and interior projections cut and scraped smooth. The antlers were also broken off and the remaining stumps thinned down and trimmed around the base. The two holes in the back of the skull, one through each of the parietal bones, were made by cutting and scraping away bone on both sides. The holes would probably have been used to tie the modified frontlet onto the head.
Found at Star Carr, Eastern end of the Vale of Pickering, five miles south of Scarborough, Yorkshire
Many payments shew that he was merciful, considerate, and liberal. Much money was given in alms, both through the almoner, and for the gratification of sudden impulses of benevolence ; and compensation was made to numerous individuals who had been accidentally injured in their persons or property, or who had been wrongfully accused or arrested. Prisoners were often redeemed out of the Marshalsea, King’s Bench, and Newgate. The debts of several criminals, together with the costs of their funerals, were paid by his command ; and to the widows of the Lord Fitz Walter, and of Perkin Warbeck, he granted an annuity. His schoolmaster and the son of his nurse partook of his bounty, whilst people of all classes who contributed to his amusement were well paid for their services.
In contradiction to the idea that he lived on ill terms with the Queen, it appears that he frequently presented her with money, jewels, frontlets, and other ornaments, and paid her debts ; whilst she is recorded to have garnished, it may be inferred with her own hands, his salad, a kind of helmet, when he was about to accom pany his army. Henry’s taste for literature, and patronage of its professors, was displayed in numerous rewards bestowed on persons for writing and pre senting books to him, and more particularly on poets, who are said by Warton to have swarmed about his Court ; and one of whom appears to have been attached to most of the members of his family. Among those who are expressly named, the existence of some of whom is only known from these notices, are Bernard Andreas, his poet laureate ; Hampton of Worcester, a maker of ballads ; Peter, an Italian poet ; the Prince’s poet ; his mother the Countess of Richmond’s poet ; and the Welsh rhymer; to each of whom, and to a Scotch rhymer, who apparently was William Dunbar, as well as to the Italian poet, he was extremely generous. The King moreover supported several scholars at the University, and, as well as the Queen, maintained children, who had been given to them. The printers at Westminster, including, by name, Richard Pynson, are mentioned, as well as the purchase of several books for his library, the care of which was confided to a person called Quintin Paulet. Pictures were also objects of his attention ; and his predilection for architecture would seem, from the large sums laid out on his palaces at Shene, Wode- stock, and Langley, on St. George’s Chapel, and on his Chapel in Westminster Abbey, to have amounted almost to a passion. Gratuities were frequently given to astronomers and physicians, and musicians were paid for composing masses and carols. His desire for the acquirement of jewels scarcely knew any bounds; and on them alone he spent upwards of 110,000/. which for the time was an enormous sum
[America] well knows that by once enlisting under other banners than her own, were they even the banners of foreign independence, she would involve herself, beyond the power of extrication, in all the wars of interest and intrigue, of individual avarice, envy, and ambition, which assume the colors and usurp the standard of freedom. The fundamental maxims of her policy would insensibly change from liberty to force. The frontlet upon her brows would no longer beam with the ineffable splendor of freedom and independence; but in its stead would soon be substituted an imperial diadem, flashing in false and tarnished lustre the murky radiance of dominion and power. She might become the dictatress of the world: she would be no longer the ruler of her own spirit.
‘She Goes Not Abroad in Search of Monsters to Destroy’, John Quincy Adams
Presents to Queen Elizabeth -frequent and thoughtful- show affection. They range from a small gift of gold wire that cost £2 6s 8d to the payment of her debt of £1,314 11s 6d in 1493. At various times, Henry gave Elizabeth communion cloth and frontlets, bought plate for her household, lent her £"100, exchanged cash (£66 13s 4d) for gold, gave her £27, traded money for jewels, repaid her £10 for garnishing his sallet, gave her £6 13s 4d, and reimbursed for for gowns, furs and disguisings. Henry paid Elizabeth’s physician Master Lewis in 1494 and her surgeon Robert Taylor in 1498. When the queen needed serious money, the king lent it secured by her plate: £2,000 in 1497 and £500 in 1502. Since the queen’s Privy Purse records have survived for only the year 1502-3, we do not know whether she repaid the loans. We know only that two years after the queen’s death, Henry paid Will Halybrand £120 on May 2, 1505, for “pledging out of certain plate of the Queen’s.”
“Elizabeth of York: Queenship and Power”: Arlene Naylor Okerlund
This bridal and festive costume of Astypalaia, the chrysomándilo, belonged to the Palatianos family and, according to Irini (Rinaki) Palatianou, it had been passed down through four generations starting with her great-grandmother, who was born in about 1850. The chrysomándilo takes its name from the gold-embroidered, pearl-encrusted frontlet of its headdress.
Cache a hidden store of provisions, weapons, treasure etc. Callimastian having beautiful, well-shaped breasts Callithump a noisy, boisterous band or parade Calumny the malicious utterance of false charges or misrepresentation calumny KAL-um-knee a slander or false accusation Canaille the masses; a mob, rabble canard kan-ARD a fabricated story (French=”duck”; morte canard=dead duck) cant kant insincerity Capacious capable of holding much Celerity swiftness, speed Chaffer haggle, exchange, barter Chamfrain the frontlet of an armed horse for a feudal knight, often engraved with designs Chanteuse a female singer of popular songs, especially in a nightclub. chimera ki-MEER-ah (not: chim-er-ah) Originally: a mythical beast; any unreal thing; foolish fancy (adj=chimerical ki-MEER-a-cal) Clinomania (n): “an obsessive desire to lie down.” Example: Without adequate sleep, you’ll suffer from more than clinomania. cloy to grow sick from an abundance of something Cloyer a pickpocket’s accomplice or the one who intrudes into a bunch of thieves to claim a share Colloquy a formal conversation or conference comitatus com-a-TAY-tus loyalty to one’s band or group Concatenate to link together in a series or chain concatenation con-CAT-a-nation things linked together or joined in a chain Congruous being in agreement, harmony or correspondence; conforming to the circumstances or requirements of a situation; marked or enhanced by harmonious agreement among elements Contemn to view or treat with contempt; scorn copacetic “going just right” Coruscate to give off or reflect light in bright beams or flashes; sparkle Coruscating to emit sparkles of light; sparkle Cosh a small cottage, hut cosseted KOS-a-ted pampered Coterminous having a common boundary Coven a meeting of witches Crapulous marked by intemperance especially in eating and drinking; sick from excessive indulgence in liquor Croodle to creep close; a faint humming, the low music of birds Cuckold a man whose wife has committed adultery Cupidity inordinate desire for wealth; avarice, greed; strong desire; lust cupidity que-PID-a-tee greed; avarice Cyclopean having the kind of masonry used in preclassical Greek architecture, characterized by large undressed blocks of stone cynosure SIGH-na-shore (from the Greek: “dog’s tail”) center of attention; point to which all eyes are drawn. (Really? From “dog’s tail”? Yes. The “dog’s tail” appears in a constellation, locating the North star, which rivets the attention of sailors at sea. Thus: center of attention.) (see also: sinecure)
Consider the hummingbird for a long moment. A hummingbird’s heart beats ten times a second. A hummingbird’s heart is the size of a pencil eraser. A hummingbird’s heart is a lot of the hummingbird.Joyas voladores, flying jewels, the first white explorers in the Americas called them, and the white men had never seen such creatures, for hummingbirds came into the world only in the Americas, nowhere else in the universe, more than three hundred species of them whirring and zooming and nectaring in hummer time zones nine times removed from ours, their hearts hammering faster than we could clearly hear if we pressed our elephantine ears to their infinitesimal chests.
Each one visits a thousand flowers a day. They can dive at sixty miles an hour. They can fly backwards. They can fly more than five hundred miles without pausing to rest. But when they rest they come close to death: on frigid nights, or when they are starving, they retreat into torpor, their metabolic rate slowing to a fifteenth of their normal sleep rate, their hearts sludging nearly to a halt, barely beating, and if they are not soon warmed, if they do not soon find that which is sweet, their hearts grow cold, and they cease to be. Consider for a moment those hummingbirds who did not open their eyes again today, this very day, in the Americas: bearded helmetcrests and booted racket-tails, violet-tailed sylphs and violet-capped woodnymphs, crimson topazes and purple-crowned fairies, red-tailed comets and amethyst woodstars, rainbow-bearded thornbills and glittering-bellied emeralds, velvet-purple coronets and golden-bellied star-frontlets, fiery-tailed awlbills and Andean hillstars, spatuletails and pufflegs, each the most amazing thing you have never seen, each thunderous wild heart the size of an infant’s fingernail, each mad heart silent, a brilliant music stilled.
Hummingbirds, like all flying birds but more so, have incredible enormous immense ferocious metabolisms. To drive those metabolisms they have race-car hearts that eat oxygen at an eye-popping rate. Their hearts are built of thinner, leaner fibers than ours. Their arteries are stiffer and more taut. They have more mitochondria in their heart muscles – anything to gulp more oxygen. Their hearts are stripped to the skin for the war against gravity and inertia, the mad search for food, the insane idea of flight. The price of their ambition is a life closer to death; they suffer heart attacks and aneurysms and ruptures more than any other living creature. It’s expensive to fly. You burn out. You fry the machine. You melt the engine. Every creature on earth has approximately two billion heartbeats to spend in a lifetime. You can spend them slowly, like a tortoise, and live to be two hundred years old, or you can spend them fast, like a hummingbird, and live to be two years old.
The biggest heart in the world is inside the blue whale. It weighs more than seven tons. It’s as big as a room. It is a room, with four chambers. A child could walk around in it, head high, bending only to step through the valves. The valves are as big as the swinging doors in a saloon. This house of a heart drives a creature a hundred feet long. When this creature is born it is twenty feet long and weighs four tons. It is waaaaay bigger than your car. It drinks a hundred gallons of milk from its mama every day and gains two hundred pounds a day and when it is seven or eight years old it endures an unimaginable puberty and then it essentially disappears from human ken, for next to nothing is known of the mating habits, travel patterns, diet, social life, language, social structure, diseases, spirituality, wars, stories, despairs, and arts of the blue whale. There are perhaps ten thousand blue whales in the world, living in every ocean on earth, and of the largest mammal who ever lived we know nearly nothing. But we know this: the animals with the largest hearts in the world generally travel in pairs, and their penetrating moaning cries, their piercing yearning tongue, can be heard underwater for miles and miles.
Mammals and birds have hearts with four chambers. Reptiles and turtles have hearts with three chambers. Fish have hearts with two chambers. Insects and mollusks have hearts with one chamber. Worms have hearts with one chamber, although they may have as many as eleven single-chambered hearts. Unicellular bacteria have no hearts at all; but even they have fluid eternally in motion, washing from one side of the cell to the other, swirling and whirling. No living being is without interior liquid motion. We all churn inside.
So much held in a heart in a lifetime. So much held in a heart in a day, an hour, a moment. We are utterly open with no one, in the end – not mother and father, not wife or husband, not lover, not child, not friend. We open windows to each but we live alone in the house of the heart. Perhaps we must. Perhaps we could not bear to be so naked, for fear of a constantly harrowed heart. When young we think there will come one person who will savor and sustain us always; when we are older we know this is the dream of a child, that all hearts finally are bruised and scarred, scored and torn, repaired by time and will, patched by force of character, yet fragile and rickety forevermore, no matter how ferocious the defense and how many bricks you bring to the wall. You can brick up your heart as stout and tight and hard and cold and impregnable as you possibly can and down it comes in an instant, felled by a woman’s second glance, a child’s apple breath, the shatter of glass in the road, the words I have something to tell you, a cat with a broken spine dragging itself into the forest to die, the brush of your mother’s papery ancient hand in a thicket of your hair, the memory of your father’s voice early in the morning echoing from the kitchen where he is making pancakes for his children.
by Brian Doyle, “Joyas Voladores” is from the Autumn 2004 issue of The American Scholar
Man identified as a Tsimshian shaman, 1896. He is wearing a woven Chilkat robe and a headdress with carved frontlet, a crown of flicker feathers, and a long ermine train. He carries an oyster-catcher rattle.
(Image courtesy of the National Archives Pacific Alaska Region, Sir Henry S. Wellcome Collection, WME-V4-P294.)