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substrate construction - work in progress

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Byzantine Chant

Title: "Αποδεξάμενος ο τύραννος" (Kalophonic Sticheron "When the tyrant saw")

Service: The Service of the Furnace; The Play of the Three Holy Children

Performers: Cappella Romana & Alexander Lingas

Album: "Mt. Sinai: Frontier of Byzantium (Voices of Byzantium: Medieval Byzantine Chant from Mt. Sinai)"

 

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photo:

Densuș Church (St Nicholas)

Hunedoara County, Transylvania, Romania

mainly 13th century

 

Probably built on the site of a 2nd century Roman temple or mausoleum, might have also been a 4th century Christianized Roman temple, with the main construction faze dating hypothesis ranging from the 7th century to the 12th-13th centuries, and later additions from the 15th-17th centuries. Fragments of 15th century frescoes are preserved inside.

 

Hateg region contains several striking old stone masonry churches built in Romanian villages as Orthodox churches but with Roman-Catholic architectural influences, testimony to the complex history of Transylvania.

Apart from its architecture [categorized by some as Romanesque or as a local syntheses of Romanesque and Byzantine architectures] the church is remarkable by the ubiquitous use of spolia from the ruins of the nearby capital of the Roman province of Dacia called Ulpia Traiana Sarmizegetusa, in the form of stamped bricks and various carved stones, some with Roman epigraphy. Presently it is considered to be the oldest Romanian Orthodox church building still in use today.

 

Category: Churches - Orthodox

Period: sec. XIII; adăugiri sec. XV - XVII

Importance: A

LMI code: HD-II-m-A-03307

Address: 23

Location: sat DENSUŞ; comuna DENSUŞ

District: Hunedoara

Region: Transilvania

 

Categorie: Biserici ortodoxe

Perioada: sec. XIII; adăugiri sec. XV - XVII

Importanta: A

Cod LMI: HD-II-m-A-03307

Adresa: 23

Localitate: sat DENSUŞ; comuna DENSUŞ

Judet: Hunedoara

Regiune: Transilvania

 

www.monumenteromania.ro/index.php/monumente/detalii/en/Bi...

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Densu%C8%99_Church

www.romanianmonasteries.org/other-monasteries/densus

Book shelves, as designed by Zaha Hadid.

Rawcliffe (or Rawcliffe in Snaith) is a village and civil parish in the East Riding of Yorkshire, England. It is situated approximately 4 miles (6.4 km) west of Goole. It lies on the banks of the River Aire just north of the M62 and on the A614 road. Rawcliffe, along with nearby Airmyn, was the location of one of the first reliable reports of the practice of warping in agriculture in the 1730s.

 

The civil parish is formed by the village of Rawcliffe and the hamlet of Rawcliffe Bridge which lies just to the south-east of the village. According to the 2011 UK census, Rawcliffe parish had a population of 2,379, an increase on the 2001 UK census figure of 2,087.

 

The village is served by a railway station on the Pontefract Line railway, originally part of the Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway route to nearby Goole.

 

The parish was part of the Goole Rural District in the West Riding of Yorkshire from 1894 to 1974, then in Boothferry district of Humberside until 1996.

 

The parish church is dedicated to St James and was designated a Grade II listed building in 1986.

 

A 20 acres (8 ha) Local Nature Reserve, Sugar Mill Ponds, has been created on the site of an old sugar factory at Rawcliffe Bridge.

If you wondered how you might wear the hair slide form the last upload then here's Nell to show you how to do it with style.

 

Read more on my book blog;

bookonablog.blogspot.com/

  

Ciudad en el Cine

Manuela Vallejo - Santiago Mora M

 

El mundo contemporáneo se ha basado en la imaginación de nuevas formas de vida, el mundo contemporáneo se ha basado en la ensoñacion del futuro, proponer el sombrío futuro ha sido practico para quienes han sabido entender meramente la gravedad de la actualidad, para quienes han sabido entender la gravedad del futuro el mundo se ha vuelto verde.

En este instante es cuando muchos piensan la basura en que se convertira, tan inhabitable, pero momento, basura? A donde se dirigen los desechos de esta masa global que intenta destruir o incentivar su futuro desde hoy? Nuestra propuesta: las capas, el factor : el olvido, se dirige a : la construcción.

El problema social que tenemos es un fantasma concurrido, la desmemoria, es el acecho de los egos actuales, la sociedad que se basa en el reciclaje solo piensa en soluciones para desarrollar desde ceros, que se hace con lo que ya se uso? A donde va lo usado?, se disfraza para encajar a las nuevas formas, el dinamismo del diseño evoca al descontrol del deseo de obtención, la actualidad del disfraz , atemporalmente renueva, he aquí las capas de la memoria, el disfraz se desecha y construimos encima del recuerdo, unas capas análogas al escalonamiento … escalonamiento = hombre actual.

El hombre futuro será un genio del olvido, proponemos ciudades superpuestas, afectadas por los problemas actuales, la basura, el clima, la desmemoria , son los constructores (o deconstructores?) de la ciudad futura, esa ciudad que alberga Xs capas mas abajo , tenemos la basura del recuerdo, el agua que inunda el recuerdo, el transporte del recuerdo y la ciudad de hoy que ya no recordamos.

Manuela Vallejo

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Riverside Concrete Forming pump truck at Putzmeister in Sturtevant, Wisconsin.

Laura New Myers is an expressive artist who describes her collaboration with photographers "...to gratify a new flourishing requisition that I had come to find existed in this new age of chaos emerging personal expression... to persuede and promote divine intervention in the sense of ones "higher self", independent thinking, moral/ethical consideration, and scholastics through the art of silent, expressive, and allegorical story telling and last but not least to connect Arists from far and wide." Model, Makeup, Wardrobe: Laura New Myers.

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Der Blütenstand des Maulbeerbaums erinnert an das von den Römern erfundene Xylospongium, vulgo Klobürste, welchens erstmals im 2. Jahrhundert nach Christi von Claudius Terentianus erwähnt wurde.

 

The fruit cluster of the mulberry tree looks like a reminiscent of the xylospongium, commonly known as toilet brush, invented by the Romans and mentioned first time by Claudius Terentianus in the 2nd century AD.

Fijate dos formas de un mismo elemento...Una para la derecha y otra para la izquierda...una contra el cielo y otra contra el suelo...una con el personaje en el centro y otra con el personaje en la punta...una con marco y una sin marco...Pero lo mas importante de todo es que son dos fotografias...Saludos fotoamigos...

Vitrail de Max Ingrand du collatéral nord de la nef de la cathédrale Saint Vincent de Saint-Malo figurant les fondateurs des évêchés bretons

Las Médulas es un entorno paisajístico español formado por una antigua explotación minera de oro romana situado en las inmediaciones de la localidad homónima, en la comarca de El Bierzo, provincia de León, comunidad autónoma de Castilla y León. Está considerada la mayor mina de oro a cielo abierto de todo el Imperio romano.1​ Este entorno fue declarado Bien de Interés Cultural en 1996, en atención a su interés arqueológico. Un año después el conjunto fue declarado por la Unesco como Patrimonio de la Humanidad,​ y como Monumento Natural en 2002.

 

El trabajo de ingeniería realizado para la extracción del mineral utilizando el método de ruina montium, supuso la alteración del medio ambiente pero dio como resultado un paisaje de arenas rojizas, cubierto en la actualidad parcialmente de vegetación de castaños y robles. Se considera un «paisaje cultural» y tiene la denominación de «Parque Cultural». Las Médulas es una explotación minera abandonada y no agotada. El paisaje creado recoge las variaciones que los trabajos de explotación realizaron, desde la desaparición de las montañas encauzando sus escombros a lugares concretos para su posterior cribado y filtrado, hasta la creación de un lago artificial debido a los sedimentos acumulados, el lago de Carucedo, así como la inmensa infraestructura hidráulica construida, hay más de 400 km de canales, algunos de más de 100 km de longitud, necesaria para ello.2​

 

El área de las Médulas es zona de explotación agrícola donde abunda el castaño y el cerezo, que son explotados por los habitantes de los pueblos del entorno que mantienen sus costumbres en cuanto a su explotación, los terrenos son comunales pero los árboles, en especial el castaño, son particulares.2​ En sus inmediaciones se encuentra una cantera que a pesar de ser declarada ilegal en 2008 continúa en funcionamiento.3​

 

Historia

Las Médulas fue en su origen una explotación romana de oro a cielo abierto, aunque los pueblos indígenas prerromanos ya habían explotado el yacimiento, bateando los placeres fluviales. Se estima que los romanos empezaron a trabajar en la zona en la época del emperador Octavio Augusto, quien dirigió personalmente la mayor parte de las acciones que entre los años 26 y 19 a. C. conquistaron definitivamente los pueblos del norte de la península ibérica, astures y cántabros (no se debe confundir el topónimo actual con el monte Medulio, donde tuvo lugar el holocausto de los cántabros, que prefirieron darse muerte antes que entregarse. No obstante, la ubicación del monte Medulio es todavía objeto de discusión), cuando se necesitó el oro para hacer monedas al implantarse este metal, la moneda de áureo con un peso de 1/40 de la libra romana, aproximadamente 8 g de peso, como referente. Entre finales del siglo II y principios del siglo III, la mina fue abandonada debido a su agotamiento.

 

Método de extracción.

El sistema utilizado era el llamado ruina montium.​ El agua de los riachuelos de montaña se canalizaba y embalsaba en la parte superior de la explotación; la montaña se horadaba con una cuidadosa red de galerías muy pendientes, soltando el agua a través de ellas. La fuerza del agua deshacía la montaña y arrastraba las tierras auríferas hasta los lavaderos. El sistema hidráulico de las Médulas es el más espectacular de los conocidos, por la cantidad de agua utilizada y la longitud y el gran número de ramificaciones de sus canales. Actualmente se conoce todo este trazado, visitable en parte con la compañía de un guía.

 

Una de las muchas captaciones se hacía desde la falda noreste del monte Teleno. A una altitud de 2000 metros se acumulaba la nieve que más tarde, ya convertida en agua, llegaba al río Cabo (afluente del Cabrera), que a su vez alimentaba los siete canales que, bordeando la montaña, llegaban a los estanques de la explotación. Estos canales, cuya longitud total se estima en unos 300 kilómetros, tienen una pendiente de entre el 0.6 y el 1 %. El ancho es de 1.28 metros, excepto en las curvas, de 1.60, y su profundidad es de 90 centímetros. La construcción de estos canales, que en algunos tramos discurren bajo la roca en forma de túnel, fue, con diferencia, la obra más difícil y costosa de la explotación.

 

Posteriormente, el agua de los canales llegaba a unos depósitos construidos mediante el allanamiento y excavado del terreno. La tierra extraída se amontonaba alrededor, formando taludes. Estos depósitos disponían de compuertas para distribuir el agua.

It was only later readers of Milton, says Appelbaum, who thought of "apple" as "apple" and not any seed-bearing fruit. For them, the forbidden fruit became synonymous with the malus pumila. As a widely read canonical work, Paradise Lost was influential in cementing the role of apple in the Fall story.

 

This month marks 350 years since John Milton sold his publisher the copyright of Paradise Lost for the sum of five pounds.

 

His great work dramatizes the oldest story in the Bible, whose principal characters we know only too well: God, Adam, Eve, Satan in the form of a talking snake — and an apple.

 

Except, of course, that Genesis never names the apple but simply refers to "the fruit." To quote from the King James Bible:

 

And the woman said to the serpent, "We may eat the fruit of the trees of the garden; but of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God has said, 'You shall not eat it, nor shall you touch it, lest you die.'"

"Fruit" is also the word Milton employs in the poem's sonorous opening lines:

 

Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit

Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste

Brought Death into the World, and all our woe

But in the course of his over-10,000-line poem, Milton names the fruit twice, explicitly calling it an apple. So how did the apple become the guilty fruit that brought death into this world and all our woe?

 

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The short and unexpected answer is: a Latin pun.

 

In order to explain, we have to go all the way back to the fourth century A.D., when Pope Damasus ordered his leading scholar of scripture, Jerome, to translate the Hebrew Bible into Latin. Jerome's path-breaking, 15-year project, which resulted in the canonical Vulgate, used the Latin spoken by the common man. As it turned out, the Latin words for evil and apple are the same: malus.

 

In the Hebrew Bible, a generic term, peri, is used for the fruit hanging from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, explains Robert Appelbaum, who discusses the biblical provenance of the apple in his book Aguecheek's Beef, Belch's Hiccup, and Other Gastronomic Interjections.

 

"Peri could be absolutely any fruit," he says. "Rabbinic commentators variously characterized it as a fig, a pomegranate, a grape, an apricot, a citron, or even wheat. Some commentators even thought of the forbidden fruit as a kind of wine, intoxicating to drink."

  

A detail of Michelangelo's fresco in the Vatican's Sistine Chapel depicting the Fall of Man and expulsion from the Garden of Eden

Wikipedia

When Jerome was translating the "Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil," the word malus snaked in. A brilliant but controversial theologian, Jerome was known for his hot temper, but he obviously also had a rather cool sense of humor.

 

"Jerome had several options," says Appelbaum, a professor of English literature at Sweden's Uppsala University. "But he hit upon the idea of translating peri as malus, which in Latin has two very different meanings. As an adjective, malus means bad or evil. As a noun it seems to mean an apple, in our own sense of the word, coming from the very common tree now known officially as the Malus pumila. So Jerome came up with a very good pun."

 

The story doesn't end there. "To complicate things even more," says Appelbaum, "the word malus in Jerome's time, and for a long time after, could refer to any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. A pear was a kind of malus. So was the fig, the peach, and so forth."

 

Which explains why Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel fresco features a serpent coiled around a fig tree. But the apple began to dominate Fall artworks in Europe after the German artist Albrecht Dürer's famous 1504 engraving depicted the First Couple counterpoised beside an apple tree. It became a template for future artists such as Lucas Cranach the Elder, whose luminous Adam and Eve painting is hung with apples that glow like rubies.

  

Enlarge this image

Eve giving Adam the forbidden fruit, by Lucas Cranach the Elder.

Wikipedia

Milton, then, was only following cultural tradition. But he was a renowned Cambridge intellectual fluent in Latin, Greek and Hebrew, who served as secretary for foreign tongues to Oliver Cromwell during the Commonwealth. If anyone was aware of the malus pun, it would be him. And yet he chose to run it with it. Why?

 

Appelbaum says that Milton's use of the term "apple" was ambiguous. "Even in Milton's time the word had two meanings: either what was our common apple, or, again, any fleshy seed-bearing fruit. Milton probably had in mind an ambiguously named object with a variety of connotations as well as denotations, most but not all of them associating the idea of the apple with a kind of innocence, though also with a kind of intoxication, since hard apple cider was a common English drink."

 

It was only later readers of Milton, says Appelbaum, who thought of "apple" as "apple" and not any seed-bearing fruit. For them, the forbidden fruit became synonymous with the malus pumila. As a widely read canonical work, Paradise Lost was influential in cementing the role of apple in the Fall story.

 

But whether the forbidden fruit was an apple, fig, peach, pomegranate or something completely different, it is worth revisiting the temptation scene in Book 9 of Paradise Lost, both as an homage to Milton (who composed his masterpiece when he was blind, impoverished and in the doghouse for his regicidal politics) and simply to savor the sublime beauty of the language. Thomas Jefferson loved this poem. With its superfood dietary advice, celebration of the 'self-help is the best help' ideal, and presence of a snake-oil salesman, Paradise Lost is a quintessentially American story, although composed more than a century before the United States was founded.

 

What makes the temptation scene so absorbing and enjoyable is that, although written in archaic English, it is speckled with mundane details that make the reader stop in surprise.

 

Take, for instance, the serpent's impeccably timed gustatory seduction. It takes place not at any old time of the day but at lunchtime:

 

"Mean while the hour of Noon drew on, and wak'd/ An eager appetite."

What a canny and charmingly human detail. Milton builds on it by lingeringly conjuring the aroma of apples, knowing full well that an "ambrosial smell" can madden an empty stomach to action. The fruit's "savorie odour," rhapsodizes the snake, is more pleasing to the senses than the scent of the teats of an ewe or goat dropping with unsuckled milk at evening. Today's Food Network impresarios, with their overblown praise and frantic similes, couldn't dream up anything close to that peculiarly sensuous comparison.

 

It is easy to imagine the scene. Eve, curious, credulous and peckish, gazes longingly at the contraband "Ruddie and Gold" fruit while the unctuous snake-oil salesman murmurs his encouragement. Initially, she hangs back, suspicious of his "overpraising." But soon she begins to cave: How can a fruit so "Fair to the Eye, inviting to the Taste," be evil? Surely it is the opposite, its "sciental sap" must be the source of divine knowledge. The serpent must speak true.

 

So saying, her rash hand in evil hour

Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluck'd, she eat:

Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat

Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe,

That all was lost.

But Eve is insensible to the cosmic disappointment her lunch has caused. Sated and intoxicated as if with wine, she bows low before "O Sovran, vertuous, precious of all Trees," and hurries forth with "a bough of fairest fruit" to her beloved Adam, that he too might eat and aspire to godhead. Their shared meal, foreshadowed as it is by expulsion and doom, is a moving and poignant tableau of marital bliss.

 

Meanwhile, the serpent, its mission accomplished, slinks into the gloom. Satan heads eagerly toward a gathering of fellow devils, where he boasts that the Fall of Man has been wrought by something as ridiculous as "an apple."

 

Except that it was a fig or a peach or a pear. An ancient Roman punned – and the apple myth was born.

 

The first tale in the Bible tells of the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the garden of Eden. This was in consequence for having tasted the “forbidden fruit” of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Christian iconography and popular culture represent the fruit as an apple. But a careful reading of the passage leads one to the conclusion that, in fact, the actual fruit is never mentioned in the book. How, then, did the apple become this symbol of temptation and sin?

 

A standard version of Genesis 3:3-5 says:

 

But of the fruit of the tree which is in the midst of the garden, God hath said, Ye shall not eat of it, neither shall ye touch it, lest ye die. And the serpent said unto the woman, Ye shall not surely die: For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.

 

According to Robert Appelbaum’s book Aguecheek’s Beef, Belch’s Hiccup, and Other Gastronomic Interjections, the confusion may be due to a sort of joke of St. Jerome, who first translated the Bible into the vulgar Latin. (This version is still known as “The Vulgate” even today.) It turns out that the Latin words for apple, and for evil, are the same: malus. According to Appelbaum, the Hebrew word, peri, which was used to refer to the fruit in the Bible, can refer to any type of fruit, a fig, a pomegranate, a grape, or even a peach or a lemon. Some Bible commentators even believe that the forbidden fruit may have been a drink that produced an intoxication in those who drank it. Hence they gained “knowledge of good and evil.”

 

St. Jerome translated “peri” with the word “malus.” It’s an adjective meaning “evil,” though as a noun, it means “apple,” from trees known even today as Malus pumila. However, as Appelbaum points out, malus may refer not only to the apple, but to any fruit with seeds: pears are a species of malus, as are figs, peaches, and others.In religious iconography, there was no clear consensus for several centuries on exactly what type of fruit it was from this tree of which humanity’s first parents couldn’t eat. Michelangelo painted a fig tree in the Sistine Chapel. Durer depicted an apple tree, as did Lucas Cranach, the Elder. But another Appelbaum hypothesis in explaining the apple’s preeminence over other seeded fruits comes from the English poet, John Milton. His Paradise Lost was published in 1667. For Milton, the semantic ambiguity of the malus should not have been a mystery, versed as he was in ancient languages like Latin and Hebrew. Appelbaum notes that it’s possible Milton appreciated St. Jerome’s joke as a reference to intoxication or drunkenness from apple cider, popular in his own time. Paradise Lost refers on a couple of occasions to the fruit of this problematic tree and refers to it as an apple.

Another possible explanation may come from the Golden Apple of Discord. In Greek mythology, this was the work of the goddess Eris, (a temptress, as Satan had been for the Hebrews). According to the myth, Eris was angry at having not been invited to the wedding of Peleus and Tetis (parents of the great warrior Achilles). She presented the wedding guests with a golden apple which would reveal who among them was “the most beautiful of all.” Three goddesses fought amongst themselves: Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty; Hera, the guardian of the home and childbearing and wife of the great Zeus; and Aphrodite, daughter of Zeus and goddess of wisdom. To settle the dispute, Zeus consulted a Trojan shepherd and mortal, Paris, to choose from among the three goddesses which was the most beautiful. The three goddesses tried to bribe him in turn with new gifts. Finally, Paris decided for Aphrodite, who had promised him the love of the most beautiful woman of all. This was none other than Helena. Helena’s abduction by Paris is the mythical origin of the Trojan War. And thus the apple is also at the center of the most epic dispute in Greek civilization.

  

The Apple and the Heart

 

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Romanesque iconography more frequently used the apple as the forbidden fruit. The lengthy list of images in the three studied countries represents a significant part of our corpus. Among them, one can cite in Spain, Amandi, Añes, Avilés, the Bible of Burgos, the Bible of San Isidoro, Covet, Estany, Estibaliz, Frómista, Loarre, Mahamud, Peralada (figure 6), Porqueras, Rebolledo de la Torre, San Pablo del Campo, Sangüesa, Santillana del Mar, and Uncastillo. In France, Airvault, Andlau, Arles, Aulnay, the Bible of Corbie, the Bible of Marchiennes, the Bible of Souvigny, Cahors, Chalon-sur-Saône, Chauvigny (Figure 3), Cluny, Courpiac, Esclottes, Guarbecque, Hastingues-Arthous, the Hortus Deliciarum, Lescure, Mauriac (in the Auvergne), Melay, Moirax, Montpezat, Neuilly-en-Donjon, Nîmes, Poitiers (Sainte-Radegonde Church), Provins, Saint-Benoit-sur-Loire, Saint-Gaudens, the Sauve-Majeure, Targon, Tavant, Thuret, Toirac, Varax, Verdun, and Vézelay. In Italy, Galliano, Modena (figure 4), Parma, Pisa, Sant’Angelo in Formis, and Sovana.

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Over subsequent centuries, the apple was continually present in the iconography of the original sin. [45] For illustrative purposes, note that in the Gothic...[45] It was frequently used as the forbidden fruit in literature, particularly in the twelfth century by Marie de France, [46] Marie de France, Yonec, v. 152, in Les Lais de Marie...[46] in the thirteenth century by Robert de Boron, [47] Le Roman du Graal: manuscrit de Modène, ed. Bernard...[47] and in the fifteenth century by Sebastian Brandt. [48] Sebastian Brandt, La Nef des fous [Das Narrenschiff],...[48] In paroemiology, this seems to be the meaning of a proverb from the beginning of the thirteenth century: “mieux vaut pomme donnée que mangée” (better an apple given than eaten). [49] Joseph Morawski, ed., Proverbes français antérieurs...[49] In hagiography, the apple is the forbidden fruit in, for example, the Cantigas de Santa María. [50] Alfonso X of Castile, Cantigas de Santa María, 353,...[50] An interesting case also appears in the breviary: the Hail Mary—appearing in the twelfth century from a passage in the New Testament [51] Luke, I, 28, 42. Henri Leclercq, “Marie, mère de Dieu,”...[51]—refers only to a “fruit,” but an anonymous commentator from Northern France specifies at the end of the thirteenth or beginning of the fourteenth century that it concerns the “fruit of the apple tree.” [52] Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Cod. Gall. 34,...[52] Anchored in Western imaginations ever since, the apple has even replaced the fig among modern scholars, in parallel to the cultural process that saw the heart where previously there had been the liver. [53] See Hasenohr, Prier au Moyen Âge: n. 38. Regarding...[53]

Figure 3. - Capital at the entranceway to the choir of the church

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The reasons behind this almost unanimous choice are unclear, however. We may allude to the more or less widespread presence of the apple throughout all of Western Europe. We may observe the old Celtic symbolism of the apple as the fruit of knowledge. We may recall its symbolic capital as a sign of power, wealth, lies, lust, discord, and transgression. [54] Michel Pastoureau, “Bonum, malum, pomum. Une histoire...[54] We may suppose that just as the garden of Hesperides recalls the Garden of Eden (both sheltering a snake that defends the sacred tree), the apple tree “with fruits of gold” in the Greek myth influenced the medieval interpretation of the biblical account. We may thus argue the ancient association between this tree and Eden, which led to naming the carob the “apple of Paradise” in Hebrew. [55] L. Ginzberg, Les Légendes des juifs, 219, n. 70.[55] We may also consider the authority of Saint Augustine, who hesitantly accepted the possibility of the apple being the fruit of sin, perhaps influenced by the existence of thirty different varieties of apples in the Roman world at the time. [56] Augustine, La Genèse au sens littéral en douze livres...[56] We may wonder especially whether in popular medieval etymology there was not certain confusion between the words malum “badly” and malum “apple” as well as between malus “malicious” and malus “apple tree;” these phonetic identities may have had semantic implications indicating the evil character of the fruit. [57] Among the transformations affecting the Roman world...[57]

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The increasing popularity of the apple in this role was perhaps also related to its round shape and red color, which drew it closer to the heart, being the organ that was linked to the blood of Christ and that Christianity and its doctrine perceived as the center of the human being. In this sense, the precedents were strong; the doubt surrounding the identity of the forbidden fruit reflected another, more ancient doubt regarding the central organ of the body in the diverse cultures that, in a more or less direct way, provided the foundations for medieval Christian culture. Whereas the Egyptians perceived the heart as the center of the human being, [58] The Book of the Dead, ed. and trans. E. A. Wallis Budge,...[58] the Hebrews attributed sacred powers to the liver, while regarding the heart as the seat of feelings and wisdom, and the source of life. [59] See, for example, Genesis, 20:5; Job, 9:4; Proverbs,...[59] The two organs fought for the role of the principle of life among the Babylonians [60] Alexandre Piankoff, Le “Cœur” dans les textes égyptiens...[60] and Greeks. [61] In mythology, the liver is the central element in the...[61]

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In the third century BC, the medical school in Alexandria established the physiological model that went on to prevail throughout the following two millennia: the brain was attributed with neurological sensitivity, movement, and functions, the heart with enthusiasm and the vital spirit. [62] Mary J. Carruthers, The Book of Memory: A Study of...[62]

21

Isidore of Seville affirmed that in the heart “lies all concern and the source of knowledge, [as] with the heart we understand, and with the liver we love.” [63] Isidore of Seville, Seville’s Etymologies: The complete...[63] Sharing his opinion, more than five centuries later, Hildegard of Bingen considered the attribute of the heart to be knowledge and that of the liver to be sensitivity. [64] Hildegard of Bingen, Causae et curae, II, 1–12, ed....[64] For her, the heart was the point of contact between the body and the soul, the terrestrial and the divine; it was “almost the essence of the body [since it] governs it,” being the residence of the soul. [65] Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias, I, 4, 16, ed. A. Führkötten...[65] It is thus not by chance that she imagined the forbidden fruit to be an apple. [66] Hildegard of Bingen, Scivias, III, 2, 21, ed. Führkötten...[66] For Saint Bernard, the heart was the seat of faith. [67] Bernard of Clairvaux, In Nativitate Beatae Mariae,...[67] For his adversary, Pierre Abélard, when God wants to examine the feelings of men, he probes their hearts. [68] Pierre Abélard, Ethics, ed. and trans. D. E. Luscombe...[68] Chrétien de Troyes considered the heart to be the place where mystical union occurs with our purest self, [69] Chrétien de Troyes, Cligès, vv. 708–716, trans. Micha,...[69] since this organ is the seat of love, [70] Chrétien de Troyes, vv. 4302–4306, trans. Micha, 1...[70] memory, [71] Chrétien de Troyes, Le Conte du Graal ou le Roman de...[71] and life. [72] Chrétien de Troyes, Cligès, vv. 3668–3673, trans. Micha,...[72] Vincent of Beauvais regarded the heart as the principal “spiritual organ.” [73] Vincent of Beauvais, Speculum historiale, I, 32 (Graz:...[73] The evolution in the hierarchy of meanings did not affect the importance attributed to the heart: while troubadours and courtly love previously spoke of “the hearing of the heart,” the eye and the heart were later associated. [74] Guy Paoli, “La relation œil-cœur. Recherches sur la...[74] At the start of the thirteenth century, a poem established the relationship between the heart and the phallus, between feeling and sexuality, by telling the story of a character killed by the husbands of his mistresses, who tore off these two organs and gave them to their adulterous wives to eat. [75] Lai d’Ignauré, trans. Danielle Régnier-Bohler, in Le...[75]

22

The new collective feeling in relation to the heart was present in the idioms that were forming. From the Classical Latin cor, synonymous with “memory” (also with “thought,” “intelligence,” and “heart” [76] This is still the meaning of the word for Saint Augustine...[76]) were derived “recorder” in French, ricordari in Italian, and recordar in Castilian and Portuguese. Although the heart as the center of memory appears in the root of the Castilian and Portuguese words decorar, this link is even more explicit in the phrases par cœur in French (appearing in around 1200), de cor in Portuguese (dating to the thirteenth century), and by heart in English (attested around 1374 and based on the acceptance of herte as “memory,” which existed from the start of the twelfth century [77] Rey, Dictionnaire historique, 1:442; José Pedro Machado,...[77]). However, the heart was not only regarded as the seat of memory. In English, it was associated with courage (towards 825), emotions (1050), love (about 1175), and character (1225). [78] The Oxford English Dictionary, 5:159.[78] In medieval Italian, the heart (core prior to 1250, then cuore) was reputed as being the center of feelings, emotions, and thoughts. [79] Manlio Cortelazzo and Paolo Zolli, Dizionario etimologico...[79]

23

Most often, the association occurred between the organ and a feeling, thought to derive from it directly, as attested in various Western languages: curage in French (appearing in 1080, then written as courage and used as a synonym of cœur “heart” until the seventeenth century), coraggio (prior to 1257) in Italian, coraje in Castilian and coragem in Portuguese (both from the fourteenth century), herzhaftigleit in German (from the fifteenth century derived from herz “heart,” written herza in the eighth century), and courage in English (around 1500, written as corage in around 1300). English presents an interesting case, showing the psychocultural hesitation between the liver and heart as the seat of positive feelings: the compound liver-heartedness, literally “without liver or heart,” designates the idea of “cowardly.” Further evidence of the moral importance attached to this organ is found in the word cordial, which initially carried the neutral meaning of “relative to the heart” and later acquired the positive sense of “nice” and “pleasant,” not only in French, English, Castilian, and Portuguese, but also in Italian (cordial) and in German (herzlich).

24

The symbolic value of the heart in the twelfth century was also seen in Jewish culture. Whereas the Pirkei Rabbi Nathan, a text predating the tenth century, establishes several comparisons between the parts of the universe and parts of the human body without even citing the heart, in the second half of the twelfth century, Maimonides considered it the center of the human body. [80] Samuel S. Kottek, “Microcosm and Macrocosm According...[80] He was probably influenced by Aristotle, for whom the human body developed from the heart, which was a very influential idea after the Christian rediscovery of the Stagirite. Thus, some Romanesque representations of the creation of Adam depict him coming to life not by a “breath on the face” (in faciem eius spiraculum vitae) as the Bible states, [81] Genesis, 2:7.[81] but by the hand of God touching his heart. This is the case, for example, in a manuscript from the abbey of Saint-Martial de Limoges, [82] Breviarium ad usum S. Martialis Lemovicensis (Paris:...[82] which was illuminated in around the year 1100, as well as in a relief carved a few years later on the northern facade of the cathedral of Santiago de Compostela.

25

The importance of the heart in Romanesque culture also transpires in its growing metaphorical use. On the political level, it became the “king” of the human body in the same way as the king is the “heart” of the social body. [83] Jacques Le Goff, “Head or Heart? The Political Use...[83] On the literary level, the rhetorical figure of the heart spread like a book in which an ordinary individual, saint, or even Christ could write their amorous (including erotic) and spiritual emotions. [84] On the evolution of this metaphor, see Ernst Robert...[84] On the architectural level, the cruciform design of churches situated the altar—the place where the mystery of the incarnation was reproduced—in the position occupied by the heart. [85] It is no coincidence that in Medieval French, the same...[85] On the liturgical level, the Christianization of the Holy Grail rendered it the receptacle holding the blood of Christ, symbolically transforming it into a heart. [86] Begoña Aguiriano, “Le cœur dans Chrétien,” Senefiance...[86] On the geographical level, in the same way as the heart was the center of the human body, the sepulcher of the Lord was the heart of the world, according to a sermon by Peter the Venerable. [87] Peter the Venerable, In laudem sepulcri Domini, PL,...[87] On the linguistic level, from the thirteenth century, the word designated the center of something in French and Italian, as it did later in English (beginning of the fourteenth century) and Castilian (sixteenth century). [88] This meaning was applied to the city by Aristotle in...[88] In this cultural context, when the Abbess of Bingen declared that Adam made of clay was merely an empty body before being filled with a heart, liver, lungs, stomach, and internal organs by God, [89] Hildegard of Bingen, Causae et curae, II, 20, ed. Kaiser,...[89] she seemingly established a hierarchy of organs. Thus, the growing importance of the Sacred Heart of Jesus in spirituality from the twelfth century seems to have been the conclusion of a long process in which this organ gained in medical and symbolic value. [90] Jean-Vincent Bainvel, “Cœur sacré de Jésus (dévotion...[90]

Exegetical Doubt

 

26

An interesting example of the rivalry between the fig and the apple in terms of the symbolic function of forbidden fruit is seen in the sculptures on the western facade of the small rural Castilian church of San Quirce, close to Burgos, which was completed in 1147. Here, eleven modillions illustrate several episodes of the myth of Adam, from the creation of protoplasm to the judgment of Cain, while in between them, ten metopes depict scenes that are sometimes difficult to relate to those of the modillions, although each stage of the cycle is identified by inscriptions. [91] These inscriptions are now almost illegible, but they...[91] The ensemble forms an iconographic discourse with two aspects: the subject is evil, as much at its origin (original sin) as in some of its manifestations (sex, death, and bodily impurity).

27

This latter topic is visible on the two metopes at each end, where the artist depicts a man defecating. This was not a simple curiosity or obscenity, as the placement of these scenes is significant: the first being compared with the sin of Adam and the second with that of Cain. In fact, an inscription close to the representation of the original sin illuminates the link between the events depicted on the metope and modillion: MALA CAGO. No doubt, the man who speaks and acts in this way is both the paradisiacal Adam who has just eaten the forbidden fruits as well as the symbol of all human beings, his “posthumous sons,” as defined in a contemporaneous sermon. [92] Julien of Vézelay, Sermons, XV, ed. and trans. Damien...[92] However, the exact interpretation of the inscription poses an important problem.

28

A few decades ago, historiography considered this a pun, as the individual excretes both “apples” and “evils.” [93] Pérez de Urbel and Whitehill, “La iglesia románica...[93] This interpretation is based on three elements: the facade’s inscription, a capital inside the church on the same subject that undoubtedly depicts an apple, and finally, the ancient roots of the tradition perceiving the forbidden food of Paradise in this fruit. However, on the modillion’s scene, the forbidden fruits rather resemble figs, an impression reinforced by a nonformalistic reasoning. Indeed, the fig traditionally had an explicitly sexual character, while the apple, though related to Aphrodite, the goddess of love, had a more sensual, rather than explicitly sexual connotation. This is shown, for example, in an Icelandic saga from the thirteenth century in which the love philter is an apple, or even in some mythologies, where the rejuvenating and beautifying virtues attributed to the fruit remain in the etymology of “pomade,” a scented, cosmetic, and curative substance with apple. [94] See Pastoureau, “Bonum, malum, pomum;” Rey, Dictionnaire...[94]

29

The fig’s association with sexuality is seemingly expressed during the third quarter of the twelfth century in the iconographic design of the doorway of Barret Church in Poitou. Here, the three capitals on each side establish a spatial and symbolic relationship, which was very common in the Romanesque imagination. Looking at them, starting with the capital closest to the entry on the left-hand side, the first represents the original sin with the fig as the fruit, the second depicts a character in a very obscene pose, and the third, which is double, shows an eagle on one side and a monster devouring a sheep on the other. Symmetrically, on the right-hand side, the first capital depicts lions leaning against each other, the second, two doves embracing, and the final one, a centaur and a dove. The message seems rather evident: sin (that is to say, the fig and sex) leads to unnatural and erotic acts, thus to the death of the soul, which is devoured by the demon (eagle and monster); on the other hand, those who join Christ (the lion) will be innocent (doves), embracing peace and purity, thus calming the animal that exists in every human being (centaurs).

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Indeed, the sexual meaning of the fig was accepted within traditional culture and did not disappear with its Christianization. Throughout the centuries, the fig tree was associated with Dionysus, and, at least in its Roman version, Bacchus. The image of the god was always carved in the wood of the fig tree, with a basket of figs being the most sacred object at the festivals that celebrated him, the Bacchanalia. As the protector of orchards, particularly of the fig tree, Dionysus was confused with his son, Priapus, born of Aphrodite. In the processions paying homage to this god of fertility, who was endowed with a disproportionately large penis, there was a large phallus carved in the wood of the fig tree, the leaves of which were also seen as an ithyphallic symbol. [95] Brosse, Mythologie des arbres, 290–291. The fig’s sexual...[95] This notion of sexual exuberance is also found in a version of an episode of the Dionysus myth by the Christian apologist Clement of Alexandria (around 150–250). [96] Clement of Alexandria, Protreptique, II, 34, 3–4, ed....[96] In a similar manner, although he calls the liver iecur and not ficatum, Isidore of Seville implicitly makes this link by affirming that in this organ “lies pleasure and concupiscence. [97] Isidore of Seville, Seville’s Etymologies, XI, I, 125,...[97]

31

The popular gesture of “making the fig” should also be mentioned here, associated with the fruit through its name and shape. This association is observed in Castilian, in which two words (higo/higa) appeared at the same time, in around 1140. [98] Joan Corominas, Diccionario critico etimológico de...[98] This gesture assumed “an obvious sexual connotation” [99] Jean-Claude Schmitt, La Raison des gestes dans l’Occident...[99] in the popular tradition of several societies, and even in the medieval West, where it can either denote the female sex organ (predominant meaning), its state of excitation (in this case, the tip of the thumb between the index and middle fingers imitates a swollen clitoris), copulation (the thumb is the penis between the vaginal lips), or a phallus (rarer meaning). [100] Desmond Morris et al., Os gestos: suas origens e significado...[100] It is probably with this latter meaning that formerly, in Bavaria, a young man confirmed his intention to marry by sending a silver or gold fig to his lover, who could refuse the demand by returning the gift or accept it by returning a silver heart. [101] José Leite de Vasconcelos, A figa (Porto: Araújo e...[101] The far la fica was an aggressive and derogatory gesture frequently used by Italians in the Middle Ages, not only on a daily basis, but also in emotionally charged situations. In 1162, angry with the Milanese who had forced his wife to mount a mule backwards, thus facing the tail of the animal—a very ancient position signifying contempt—Frederick I Barbarossa seized the city and, on penalty of death, forced the prisoners to remove a fig from the anus of a mule with their teeth. [102] Quoted by Leite de Vasconcelos, A figa, 80; by Jerome...[102] The inhabitants of Pistoia had carved into their castle of Carmignano two large arms with hands making the sign of the fig towards the enemy city of Florence—which, humiliated, went on to conquer the place in 1228. [103] Giovanni Villani, Cronica, VI, 5, ed. Ignazio Moutier...[103] In Dante, a robber condemned to Hell makes the sign of the fig against God Himself. [104] Dante Alighieri, Divina Commedia, Inferno, XXV, 1–3,...[104] The gesture and expression ficha facere are found, with the same derisory meaning, in all Romanesque cultures, and even outside of them. [105] Leite de Vasconcelos, A figa, 42–56, 72, 76–81, and...[105] Although this gesture has a talismanic function, that of casting off the evil eye and other dangers, this seems to be precisely due to its sexual connotation, that of warding off sterility in life. [106] Leite de Vasconcelos, A figa, 27–41, 57–59, and 91...[106]

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In this sense, the scene of the paramount sin depicted on the third modillion at San Quirce, in addition to adopting the ancient interpretation of the original sin as a sexual sin, [107] See Martin Elze, Tatian und seine Theologie (Göttingen:...[107] prepared the observer to encounter, three metopes along and just after the expulsion from Paradise, a representation of the carnal relationship of protoplasm. [108] Pérez de Urbel and Whitehill (“La iglesia románica...[108] Thus, according to our hypothesis, the word malum would not have been used here with its specific meaning of “apple,” but rather in the broader sense of “fruit with pulp” (as opposed to nux, “fruit with hard skin”), [109] Although the former meaning was eventually enforced...[109] so that the pun of the inscription would signify “to expel evils and fruits.” Whether conscious or not of the inscription’s ambiguity, the sculptor at San Quirce thus revealed the interesting coexistence of two exegetical traditions, that of the apple, present in the representation of the original sin inside the church, and that of the fig, visible on its facade. An even more meaningful coexistence if it is accepted that a single artist carved both the capital and the modillion. [110] A situation that de Lojendio (Castilla 1) regards as...[110]

33

This exegetical doubt is not an isolated case appearing in a monastic community in the center of Castile. The formation of the French word “pomme” provides an interesting indication in this context. Although, from the beginning of the fifth century, the Latin word pomum (“fruit” in a generic sense) gained the specific meaning of “fruit of the apple tree” in Northern Italy and the majority of the Ibero-Romance area—a meaning preserved in the Provençal and Catalan poma—Italian, Castilian, Portuguese, and Galician eventually favored the traditional form malum, from which they derived mela, manzana, maçã and mazá, respectively. [111] Both the Spanish word manzana (attested in 1112 as...[111] Pomum preserved its broad sense in these four languages in the form pomo (poma in the case of Galician). By the same evolution, the collective forms pomario in Italian and pomar in Castilian, Portuguese, Provençal, and Galician derived from the Classical Latin pomarium.

34

In contrast, the medieval Latin of Gaul had used, from the end of the eighth century, the word pomarius to denote the apple tree, from which derived the vernacular name of this specific fruit (pume) from the generic term (pomum) in 1080. [112] The word appeared in the Chanson de Roland as pume;...[112] At the same date appeared the French word verger (orchard), denoting land planted with various fruit trees, taken from the Latin viridiarum (from viridis, “green”). Faced with these facts, it is not absurd to assume that the French linguistic evolution unconsciously avoided the supposedly negative character of this fruit, as expressed through the word malum. Furthermore, the apple is a positive symbol in Celtic culture, [113] Françoise Le Roux and Christian-Joseph Guyonvarc’h,...[113] which was heavily present in the territory of the future France, particularly in the context of the “folkloric reaction” of the twelfth century. [114] Jacques Le Goff, “Culture cléricale et traditions folkloriques...[114]

35

In accordance with its archetypical character as the fruit par excellence, the word was used in the formation of many syntagms, and even, around 1256, in the curious expression “pomme de paradis” (apple of paradise) denoting the banana. [115] Rey, Dictionnaire historique. It is interesting to...[115] Although in terms of vocabulary, we note a French resistance to the association of the apple with the fruit of sin, in terms of iconography, as seen above, such identification was established without problem. This was also the case in popular literary works, such as the first French theatrical text from the middle of the twelfth century or a sermon from the same time. [116] Respectively Le Mystère Adam: Ordo representationis...[116] Similarly, in this and the subsequent century, there were various love stories generally beginning with a betrayal (hearts metaphorically devoured) and ending with the death of the two protagonists (one of them literally devouring the other’s heart without realizing it [117] Accounts collected in Régnier-Bohler, ed., Le Cœur...[117]). To a certain extent, these stories consciously or unconsciously rewrote the drama of the original demise: betraying the confidence of the Creator (“from the tree . . . you will not eat”) by eating the apple/heart (“the knowledge of good and evil”), the human being was the cause of his own perdition (“the day you eat of it, you will surely die”), as Adam and Eve had hearts full of arrogance (“you will be like gods” [118] Genesis, 2:17; 3:5. On the close relationship between...[118]).

The Tree and Androgyny

 

36

This search for the identity of the Romanesque forbidden fruit must still consider the tree in relation to the primordial couple. The position of these three elements provides some important information. One of the symbolic and physical solutions used was to portray the primi parentes on the same side of the tree, with Eve always being closer to it (figure 4). The most common composition placed the tree between Adam and Eve, as already found on the sarcophagus of San Justo de la Vega in Leon, dated to the end of third century or the beginning of the fourth century and currently held in the archaeological museum of Madrid. It would be simplistic to think that this position on both sides of the tree simply responded to the desire for symmetry in Romanesque art, [119] As considered Guerra, Simbología románica, 107.[119] because the form is almost always a fragment of the contents that emerged. [120] Gerardus Van Der Leeuw, La Religion dans son essence...[120] In the eleventh to thirteenth centuries, this scheme probably referred to two very pressing questions related to the contemporary phenomenon of the sacralization of marriage.

Figure 4. - Relief on the western façade of Modena Cathedral (Emilia-Romagna), circa 1100.

37

On the one hand, by placing Adam and Eve at an equal distance from the tree, the iconography referred to a certain social egalitarianism and moral leveling between man and woman, even if the snake is almost always turned towards the woman. The side occupied by each character varied. We have already considered the position of Eve on the right-hand side of the tree as an “iconographic tradition,” a scheme with only three exceptions, in Saint-Antonin, Bruniquel, and Lescure. [121] Jean-Claude Fau, “Découverte à Saint-Antonin (Tarn-et-Garonne)...[121] In fact, the woman appears on the left in several other cases: for example on the sculptures in Anzy-le-Duc, Airvault, Butrera, Cergy, Cervatos, Covet, Embrun, Gémil, Girona, Lavaudieu, Lescar, Loarre, Luc-de-Béarn, Mahamud, Manresa, Moirax, Montcaret, Peralada (figure 6), Saint-Étienne-de-Grès, Saint-Gaudens, Sangüesa, San Juan de la Peña, Toirac, Verona, and Vézelay. Similarly, on the frescos in Aimé, Fossa, and San Justo in Segovia, on the illuminations of the Bible of Burgos, the Exultet 3 of Troia, and the Hortus Deliciarum, on a metal medallion from the Archbasilica of St. John Lateran, and on the mosaics in Monreale and Trani.

38

In addition, the central position of the tree, separating Adam and Eve, insinuated a rupture of the initial unity, at least on the psychological level. The tree, that is to say knowledge, revealed the existence of contradictory traits in human beings, made in the image and resemblance of God, the androgyne par excellence. “God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him; male and female created he them:” [122] Genesis, 1:27.[122] this is why the human being was initially double, and thus, inherently complete and microcosmic. [123] There were several types of microcosmic man in the...[123] Removing Eve from the rib of Adam was a surgery of separation, because they were formed from the same bones, they were “one flesh.” [124] Genesis, 2:23–24.[124] In this manner, the sacred text was interpreted from first half of the first century, initially by the Jew, Philo of Alexandria, and subsequently by Ambroise, Augustine, Gregory the Great, Isidore, the pseudo-Remigius of Auxerre, Guibert of Nogent, Pierre Lombard, Bernard, and others, who all regarded Eve as the image of the woman from within man. [125] Michel Planque, “Ève,” in Dictionnaire de spiritualité...[125]

39

Augustine, in particular, implicitly recognized the androgyny of the first man when he said that the devil “cannot tempt us only by the means of this animal part, which appears in a single man as an image or a model of woman.” [126] Augustine, Del Genesis contra los maniqueos [De Genesi...[126] Following a reasoning based on that of Saint Paul, he saw Adam-Eve as the complementarity of spirit and flesh, a comparison that was adopted by many thinkers in the Romanesque period. Since in the Bible, “Adam” was originally the generic name denoting a human being (Genesis, 1:19) and only later became the name of a person (Genesis, 3:17), Augustine interpreted the word “man” (Genesis, 1:26) as “human nature.” [127] Augustine, De Trinitate, I, 7, PL, vol. 42, col. 8...[127] Saint Anselme, who was very influential in the twelfth century, agreed that “Adam” should initially include Adam and Eve. [128] Anselm of Canterbury, La Conception virginale et le...[128] While trying to explain how Adam’s prohibition of the fruit also implied Eve, Petrus Comestor stated that it was transmitted to the woman through man; [129] Petrus Comestor, Historia scholastica, 15, PL, vol....[129] thus implicitly suggesting the unity of the two individuals, and the androgyny of the being to whom it was forbidden to eat the fruit.

40

While the medieval Church did not formally accept the divine and the androgyny of Adam, it was still familiar with it. It is thus found in a text from the New Testament: “There is neither male nor female: for you are all one in Jesus Christ.” [130] Galatians, 3:28.[130] This appeared in an apocryphal text: “When you make the two one, and when you make the inside like the outside and the outside like the inside, and the above like the below, and when you make the male and the female one and the same, so that the male not be male nor female . . . then will you enter the kingdom [of God].” [131] Il Vangelo di Tommaso, 22, trans. Mario Erbetta (Casale...[131] This was a noncontemptible part of the thought of Clement of Alexandria [132] In a piece of literature that is today lost, Hypotyposes,...[132] (around 150–215), Origen [133] According to him, based on Luke, 20:36, there will...[133] (185–254), Gregory of Nyssa [134] Gregory of Nyssa, La Création de l’homme [De opificio...[134] (around 330–390) and, through them, of Johannes Scotus Eriugena [135] Johannes Scotus Eriugena, Periphyseon, IV, PL, vol....[135] (around 810–870). It undoubtedly belonged to the cultural and psychological milieu of the first Christian centuries. [136] Wayne A. Meeks, “The Image of the Androgyne: Some Uses...[136]

41

While the androgyne of Eden had disappeared, it was because of sin. For some thinkers, the human being henceforth became aware of its duplicity, since that time it was broken and characterized by the genitals, which was visible proof of the original sin: sexus comes from sectio (“cut,” “separation”), a term derived from secare “to cross,” which only assumed a specifically sexual meaning in the Middle Ages. [137] Du Cange, Glossarium mediae et infimae latinitatis,...[137] It is thus not by chance that Adam said “me” for the first time after the sin. [138] “Mulier, quam dedisti mihi sociam, dedit mihi de ligno,...[138] Although, undeniably, the original sin and sex were closely linked, the way in which events had transpired was the subject of debate. [139] Emmanuele Testa, Il peccato di Adamo nella Patristica...[139] One stream of thought interpreted the sin as a sexual offence: for example, the Jew Philon and some Church fathers, including Clement of Alexandria and Saint Ambrose. [140] Philo of Alexandria, De opificio mundi, 151–152, trans....[140] In the Romance period, the majority of theologists from the school of William of Champeaux (1070–1121) also considered that this sin involved concupiscence, although Guillaume himself saw it as an act of disobedience in which sensualitas managed to dominate ratio. [141] Odon Lottin, “Les théories du péché originel au XIIe...[141]

42

Another group reversed the question, seeing sex rather as a consequence of the sin. The Physiologus, an influential allegorical, zoological treatise translated into Latin in the fifth century, stated that the elephant and its partner, which “personified” Adam and Eve, were unaware of intercourse until the female had eaten the fruit of the Mandragora officinarum and given it to the male: “because of that, they had to leave Paradise.” [142] El Fisiólogo: bestiário medieval, 20, ed. Francis J....[142] The main proponent of this train of thought was Saint Augustine, according to whom the human being before the sin practiced sex without concupiscence. [143] Augustine, La Genèse au sens littéral [De Genesi ad...[143] The error of the first couple would then have been one of pride, which led to the error of disobedience and then to carnal error. [144] In the first part of his interpretation, Augustine...[144] Another proponent of this idea was Johannes Scotus Eriugena in the eighth century, who considered that before the sin, the human being was only one, and that the resulting division of the sexes would cease in the eternal life. [145] Johannes Scotus Eriugena, Periphyseon, V, 20, PL, vol....[145] His thought continued to exert a certain influence; in the fourteenth century, it led Meister Eckhart to regard “any division” to be “bad as such,” thus perceiving the number two as the sign of the fall. [146] Meister Eckhart, Commentaire de la Genèse, 88 and 90,...[146] The Romanesque representations of the initial sin hesitated in choosing between these theological positions. Showing a preference for the second, several images accorded sexual attributes to Adam and Eve just after the ingestion of the fruit: for Adam, generally a beard [147] For Hildegard of Bingen, Causae et curae, II, 5–7,...[147] (figures 1, 2, 3, 4, and 5), seldom a penis (figure 5), and for Eve, usually breasts (figures 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6). A minority of images seem to attribute the initial sin to a sexual act, an iconographic and theological concept that was perhaps expressed for the first time on the bronze door of Hildesheim Cathedral in Germany between 1011 and 1015. [148] William Tronzo, “The Hildesheim Doors: An Iconographic...[148] Here, Adam appears to the left of the tree and behind him is another tree on which a small dragon is standing. Eve is to the right, close to another tree with the snake. The fruit is the apple, one in right hand of Adam and the other in the right hand of Eve, being stretched out towards Adam. There is another apple in the left hand of Eve, whose folded arm merges with her vagina. A similar illustration was used in Rebolledo de la Torre in 1186. In the Alardus Bible, the snake that gives the fruit to Eve is at the height of her vagina, recalling a male sexual organ about to penetrate her. The southernmost façade of the Church of Santa María in Sangüesa in Navarre, which dates from the second half of the twelfth century, seems to portray the same design. Here, the scene of sin is situated immediately below the personification of Lust, showing a woman whose naked breasts are attacked by toads and snakes. [149] Despite the great diversity of iconographical material...[149] This association between lust and the original sin was not uncommon; as Sangüesa was on St. James’s Way, the most travelled road by Occitans and Italians, we may hypothesize that its iconographic message expressed the opinion of many pilgrims on the subject. In this sense, this image from Navarre ratified at least two other images known to these pilgrims.

43

The first image from Provence, dated to the second quarter of the twelfth century, is located a few kilometers from Tarascon in Saint-Etienne-du-Grès, on the tympanum of Saint-Gabriel’s chapel, where Daniel appears next to the original sin (prefiguration of Christ, the new Adam) with lions (a common symbol of lust): an opposition of scenes suggesting the sexual signification of the sin. As already mentioned, it is true that the contrast between the two scenes did not necessarily mean that the artist interpreted the sin “as a vulgar sin of lust, but its consequence was to introduce turmoil and even shame into a domain that had emerged wholly pure from the hands of the Creator.” [150] Gérard de Champeaux and Sébastien Sterckx, Introduction...[150] However, the authors of this comment—a longstanding phenomenon in medieval art studies—seem inclined towards adapting the intentions of the Romanesque artist to the theologically correct reading, rather than considering other interpretative possibilities beyond the domain of ecclesiastical culture. It is significant, for example, that on the same area of the tympanum, the two scenes are chronologically inversed, first portraying Daniel and then the sin.

44

The second image from Italy figures on the mosaic of Otranto (1163–1165). The branches of the forbidden tree pass between the legs of the characters, insinuating the sexual nature of the sin. This seems all the more evident given that Adam and Eve are each situated in a circle, rendering the characters isolated, separated, and autonomous entities in their respective domains, domains most certainly resulting from the primordial androgyne being cut in two. This assumption is reinforced by the fact that the forbidden fruit is represented as the fig (with its strong sexual connotation, as already seen) and illustrated in a suggestive way by the mosaic artist, the priest Pantaleon: the thinner part of the fig held by Eve is facing downwards and placed between her breasts, as though forming a third breast; the fig in Adam’s hand is in the inverse position, reminding us of the male genitals. [151] The same sexual presentation appeared towards the end...[151]

Figure 5. - Illumination from the in Troia (Puglia), Archivio Capitulario, middle of the eleventh century.

 

Figure 6. - Capital in the western gallery of the monastery cloister

45

Taking the geographical distribution of the Romanesque images into account, we see that the function attributed to the fig as the forbidden fruit was mainly expressed in the cultural milieu related to the Greco-Judaic world, while the apple appeared in association with the Romano-Christian world. This is perhaps due the specific links established in these cultural areas between each fruit and a bodily organ. In the images where the fig is used, Eve is often portrayed with the fruit on the right-hand side of the tree, like the liver in the human body. [152] In this regard, I evidently mean a statistical trend,...[152] In the images with the apple, the tendency is for Eve and the fruit to appear on the left-hand side, just like the heart in the body (figures 3 and 6). In both instances, the forbidden fruit was the symbol of the rupture of the unity of Eden and the birth of the disjointed humanity that characterizes history.

Notes

 

[1]

On the methodological issues affecting the construction and analysis of an iconographic corpus, some good comments have been made by Jérôme Baschet in “Inventivité et sérialité des images médiévales. Pour une approche iconographique élargie,” Annales HSS 51 (1996): 93–133.

 

[2]

Genesis, 2:16–17; 3:1–12.

 

[3]

Jeremiah, 1:14. Jerome, Expositio quattuor Evangeliorum, Patrologia Latina (PL), vol. 30, col. 549d–550a.

 

[4]

Midrash Rabbah, Genesis, XV, 7, trans. Bernard Maruani and Albert Cohen-Arazi (Paris: Verdier, 1987), 1:183 [Midrash Rabbah, Genesis trans. Harry Freedman and Maurice Simon, 2 vols. (London: Soncino Press, 1939)]; Genesis Rabbah I (Genesis 1–11), trans. Luis Vegas Montaner (Estella: Verbo Divino, 1994), 188–189 [Genesis Rabbah I, trans. Samuel Rapaport (London: Routledge, 1907)].

 

[5]

Following the interpretation of Marcel Durliat, Pyrénées romanes (La-Pierre-Qui-Vire: Zodiaque, 1978), 42.

 

[6]

Vita Adae, 36–42: “The ‘Vita Adae’,” ed. J. H. Mozley, The Journal of Theological Studies (1929): 121–149 (English manuscripts); “La Vie latine d’Adam et Ève,” ed. Jean-Pierre Pettorelli, Archivum latinitatis Medii Aevi (1998): 5–104 (German manuscripts); 2 Henoc 22:8: Slavonic Apocalypse of Enoch, trans. Francis I. Andersen, in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, ed. James H. Charlesworth, 2 vols. (London: Darton, Longman & Todd, 1983–1985), 1:92–221; L’Évangile de Nicodème, 19, ed. André Vaillant (Geneva, Paris: Droz, 1968), 59–61.

 

[7]

In this instance, the capital over the door of Miègeville, dated to around 1100–1118, does not depict the scene of the sin, but rather that of the expulsion from Paradise, where the fruit behind Adam and Eve (the couple being situated between God on one side and an angel on the other) is the grapevine.

 

[8]

Midrash Rabbah, Genesis, XV, 7 and XIX, 5, trans. Maruani and Cohen-Arazi, [trans. Freedman and Simon], 184 and 217; Genesis Rabbah I, trans. Vegas Montaner, 190–225. Ethiopic Apocalypse of Enoch, XXXII, 3–6, trans. Ephraim Isaac, in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 1:28. Greek Apocalypse of Baruch, 4–8, trans. Harry E. Gaylord, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 1:667; Apocalypse of Abraham, XXXIII, 7, trans. Ryszard Rubinkiewicz and Horace G. Lunt, The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 1:700. In the first century AD, Eliezer ben Hurcanus’s Chapters only specifies that “Noah found a grapevine coming from the Garden of Eden:” Los Capítulos de Rabbí Eliezer, XXIII, 4, trans. Miguel Pérez Fernandez, (Valencia: Institución San Jerónimo, 1984), 174. Louis Ginzberg nevertheless believes that this text probably alludes to a fragment from the tree of knowledge: Les Légendes des juifs [1909], trans. Gabrielle Sed-Rajna (Paris: Éd. du Cerf, 1997), 1:302, n. 59. According to the same author (Les Légendes des juifs, 219, n. 70), “the oldest and widespread opinion identifies the forbidden fruit with the grape, which traces back to an ancient mythological idea considering wine to be the beverage of the gods.”

 

[9]

David Romano, “Jueus a la Catalunya carolingia i dels primers comtes (876–1100),” in Exposiciò dins la formació de l’Europa medieval (Girona: Ajuntament de Girona, 1985), 113–119. Hilário Franco Júnior, “Le pouvoir de la parole: Adam et les animaux dans la tapisserie de Gérone,” Médiévales 25 (1993): 113–128.

 

[10]

Arturo Graf, Il Mito del Paradiso terrestre (1892; reprint, Rome: Edizioni del Graal, 1982), 65; Gioacchino Volpe, Movimenti religiosi e sette ereticali nella società medievale italiana: secoli XI–XIV fourth ed. (Florence: Sansoni, 1972), 17–40; Cinzio Violante, La Società milanese nell’età precomunale (Bari: Laterza, 1974), 220–231. Priests in Spain in the seventh century offered a bunch of grapes to believers during the Eucharist, which could also be a reaction against the idea of the grapevine as the forbidden fruit (third Council of Braga [675], prologue and canon 1: Concílios visigóticos e hispano-romanos, ed. and trans. José Vives (Barcelona and Madrid: CSIC, Instituto Enrique Florez, 1963), 371–373).

 

[11]

Michel Tardieu, Trois Mythes gnostiques: Adam, Éros et les animaux d’Égypte dans un écrit de Nag Hammadi (II, 5) (Paris: Études augustiniennes, 1974), particularly 88–89, 142–144, and 166–169.

 

[12]

Paul Deschamps, “Notes sur la sculpture romane en Bourgogne,” Gazette des Beaux-Arts (1922): 61–80.

 

[13]

Deschamps, “Notes sur la sculpture.”

 

[14]

Joseph de Ghellinck, “L’eucharistie au XIIe siècle en Occident,” in Dictionnaire de théologie catholique (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1913), vol. 5, col. 1233–1302. Iconography was also influenced by the phenomenon in which the Crucified was depicted as a bunch of grapes, as seen on the thirteenth-century metal relief on the door of the Church of Sion in Switzerland. This was reproduced by Erich Neumann, The Great Mother: An Analysis of the Archetype, trans. Ralph Mannheim (1955; reprint, Princeton (N. J.): Princeton University Press, 1972), pl. 114.

 

[15]

Roger Dion, Histoire de la vigne et du vin en France des origines au XIXe siècle (Paris: author publication, 1959), 245–247.

 

[16]

Auguste Gaudel, “Péché originel,” in Dictionnaire de théologie catholique, vol. XII-1, col. 441 [quotation back-translated from the French].

 

[17]

Jacques Brosse, Mythologie des arbres (Paris: Plon, 1989), 299–300. The purity attributed to the olive rendered the olive tree the tree of life par excellence, as seen above, n.5.

 

[18]

Robert Saint-Jean and Jean Nougaret, Vivarais-Gévaudan romans (La Pierre-Qui-Vire: Zodiaque, 1991), 157–158. La Nuit des temps, 75.

 

[19]

Genesis, 3:7.

 

[20]

John, 1:48. This relationship between the fig and knowledge can be traced back to classical paganism: Plato, for example, called this fruit “the friend of philosophers,” according to Éloïse Mozzani, Le Livre des superstitions: mythes, croyances et légendes (Paris: Robert Laffont, 1995), 746.

 

[21]

Matthew, 21:19. Paul Sébillot, Le Folklore de France, vol. 6, La Flore (1906; reprint, Paris: Imago, 1985), 21; Mozzani, Le Livre des superstitions, 746.

 

[22]

Stuttgart Psalter, around 810 (Stuttgart: Württembergische Landes-bibliothek, Cod. Bibl. 172o 23, fol. 8).

 

[23]

Midrash Rabbah, Genesis XV, 7, trans. Maruani and Cohen-Arazi, 185; Génesis Rabbah I, trans. Vegas Montaner, 190–191.

 

[24]

Life of Adam and Eve (Apocalypse), xx, 4–5, trans. M. D. Johnson, in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 2:281; Apocalisse di Mosè, trans. Liliana Rosso Ubigli, in Apocrifi dell’Antico Testa-mento, ed. Paolo Sacchi (Turin: UTET, 1989), 2:429; Vida de Adán y Eva (Apocalipsis de Moises), trans. Natalio Fernández Marcos, in Apocrifos del Antiguo Testamento, ed. Alejandro Diez Macho (Madrid: Cristiandad, 1982), 2:330.

 

[25]

Testament of Adam 3c, trans. Stephen E. Robinson, in The Old Testament Pseudepigrapha, 1:994; Testamento de Adán III, 4 (R II), trans. F. J. Martínez Fernández, in Apocrifos del Antiguo Testamento, 5:433.

 

[26]

Il Combattimento di Adamo, 40, ed. and trans. A. Battista and B. Bagatti (Jerusalem: Franciscan Printing Press, 1982), 110.

 

[27]

Theodoret of Cyrus, Quaestiones in Genesim, II, 28, Patrologia Graeca (PG), vol. LXXX, col. 125 c.

 

[28]

Tertullian, Adversus Marcionem, I, 2, 2, ed. Ernst Kroymann (Turnhout: Brepols, 1954), 443. Corpus christianorum. Series latina, 1; Hugh of Saint Victor, Adnotationes elucidatoriae in Pentateuchon, Patrologia Latina (PL), vol. CLXXV, col. 42 a-b; Pierre Comestor, Historia scholastica, 23, PL, vol. CXCVIII, col. 1073 b-c. Even at the end of the Middles Ages, several authors still thought in this manner: Meister Eckhart, Commentaire de la Genèse, 97 and 205, ed. and trans. Fernand Brunner et al. (Paris: Éd. du Cerf, 1984), 360 and 518. L’Œuvre latine de Maître Eckhart, 1.

 

[29]

Das Tristan-Epos Gottfrieds von Strassburg, v. 17944, ed. Wolfgang Spiewok (Berlin: Akademie-Verlag, 1989), 251. Deutsche Texte des Mittelalters, 75.

 

[30]

Beryl Smalley, “Andrew of Saint-Victor, Abbot of Wigmore: A Twelfth-Century Hebraist,” Recherches de théologie ancienne et médiévale 10 (1938): 358–373; Beryl Smalley, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1983), 149–172 and 179–180; Esra Shereshevsky, “Hebrew Traditions in Peter Comestor’s Historia Scholastica,” The Jewish Quarterly Review 59 (1968–1969): 268–289.

 

[31]

Brosse, Mythologie des arbres, 285–286.

 

[32]

Jean Beleth, Summa de ecclesiasticis officiis, 125, ed. Herbert Douteil (Turnhout: Brepols, 1976), 239–241; Gervase of Tilbury, Otia Imperialia: Recreation for an Emperor, trans. S. E. Banks and J. W. Binns (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002). In the thirteenth century, the theme appeared in several well-known texts, such as La Queste del Saint Graal, ed. Albert Pauphilet (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1980), 210ff. and Jacobus de Voragine’s Golden Legend: Legenda aurea, vulgo Historia Lombardica dicta, LXVIII, ed. Theodor Graesse (1846; reprint, Osnabrück: Otto Zeller, 1969), 303–304.

 

[33]

Exodus, 29:13, 22; Leviticus, 3:4, 10, 15; 4:9; 7:4; 8:16, 25; 9:10, 19.

 

[34]

Tobit, VI, 7.

 

[35]

Hesiod, Théogonie, v. 524, ed. and trans. Paul Mazon, thirteenth reprint (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1996), 51. Coll. des Universités de France [Theogony, trans Hugh G. Evelyn-White (Cambridge, MA: Loeb Classics, 1914)].

 

[36]

Anacreon, “Fragment 33,” vv. 28, 32, in Carmina Anacreontea, ed. Martin L. West (Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1984), 25.

 

[37]

Horace, Odes, IV, 1, 12, ed. and trans. François Villeneuve (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1927), 152 [The Complete Odes and Satires of Horace, trans. Sidney Alexander (Princeton NJ: Princeton University Press, 1999)].

 

[38]

Plato, Timée, 71 a, d, ed. and trans. Albert Rivaud (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1985), 198 [Timaeus and Critias, ed. Thomas K. Johansen, trans. Desmond Lee (London: Penguin, 1977)].

 

[39]

In the Romanesque period, there was at least one allusion to the Latin Cupid (called only Amores) sending an arrow to the heart: Chrétien de Troyes, Cligès, v. 455, trans. Alexandre Micha (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1982) [Cliges, trans. W. W. Comfort (London: Everyman’s Library, 1914)]. A medieval collection of classical mythology, written between 875 and 1075, says that the gods sent an eagle to punish Prometheus by attacking his heart (not the liver, as Hesiod declared): Premier Mythographe du Vatican, I, 1, 3, ed. Nevio Zorzetti, trans. Jacques Berlioz (Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1995), 2. The transposition of the symbolic role of the liver to the heart became so ingrained that modern scholars have more than once taken one for the other, as, for example, the translator of Horace, Odes, ed. and trans. Villeneuve, n.36 or that of Anacreon, Odes, trans. Frédéric Matthews (Paris: Presses Universitaires, 1927), 91.

 

[40]

Jacobus de Voragine, Legenda aurea, XXV, ed. Graesse, 120. Eve

one of the final moments as a Queen Caterpillar changes into a chrysalis, near Tucson

Forming and breaking in the sky,

I fancy all shapes are there;

Temple, mountain, monument, spire;

Ships rigged out with sails of fire,

And blown by the evening air.

- J.K. Hoyt,

(DSC01811)

"Gesellschaftsspiegel", Olafur Eliasson -

beim Hamburger Rathaus

Please do not use my photos without my explicit permission

Vitraux de la cathédrale Saint-Julien du Mans au Pays de la Loire

Dans le parc du Château d'Hyères dans le Var

Port de plaisance de Perros-Guirec dans les Côtes-d'Armor en Bretagne,

A three-story Trading House from 1877 forms the core of the Duus Museum in Keflavík, Iceland.

Organic and inorganic sculptures. Human and non-human shapes.

After loading at Coolamon then to form 2CM4 before to formed 9793V ex Appleton Dock earlier:

C508-BRM001-CLP12 leads 7758V up loaded SSR grain from Anakie Rd Loop, entering Geelong Grain Loop for unloads, near Nth Geelong, taken on Tuesday 29/7/2025.

Burlington Northern 9627, 9679 & 9442 - Loaded unit coal train from the Power River Basin, which was formed of c100 DEEX (Detriot Edison Co) bottom discharge hoppers - Orin, Bridger Jn (crossing the River Platte) - 1652 - 13/05/97.

Belfast (/ˈbɛl.fɑːst/ or /ˈbɛl.fæst/; from Irish: Béal Feirste, meaning "mouth of the sandbanks") is the capital and largest city of Northern Ireland, on the River Lagan. At the 2011 census, it had a population of 286,000. Belfast was granted city status in 1888.

 

Belfast was a centre of the Irish linen, tobacco processing, rope-making and shipbuilding industries: in the early 20th century, Harland and Wolff, which built the RMS Titanic, was the biggest and most productive shipyard in the world. Belfast played a key role in the Industrial Revolution, and was a global industrial centre until the latter half of the 20th century. Industrialisation and the inward migration it brought made Belfast the biggest city in Ireland at the beginning of the 20th century, and industrial and economic success was cited by unionist opponents of Home Rule as a reason why Ulster should fight to resist it.

 

Today, Belfast remains a centre for industry, as well as the arts, higher education, business, and law, and is the economic engine of Northern Ireland. The city suffered greatly during the period of conflict called "the Troubles", but latterly has undergone a sustained period of calm, free from the intense political violence of former years, and substantial economic and commercial growth. Additionally, Belfast city centre has undergone considerable expansion and regeneration in recent years, notably around Victoria Square.

 

Belfast is served by two airports: George Best Belfast City Airport in the city, and Belfast International Airport 15 miles (24 km) west of the city. Belfast is a major port, with commercial and industrial docks dominating the Belfast Lough shoreline, including the Harland and Wolff shipyard, and is listed by the Globalization and World Cities Research Network (GaWC) as a global city.

 

Name

 

The name Belfast is derived from the Irish Béal Feirsde, which was later spelled Béal Feirste. The word béal means "mouth" or "rivermouth" while feirsde/feirste is the genitive singular of fearsaid and refers to a sandbar or tidal fordacross a river's mouth. The name would thus translate literally as "(river) mouth of the sandbar" or "(river) mouth of the ford". This sandbar was formed at the confluence of two rivers at what is now Donegall Quay: the Lagan, which flows into Belfast Lough, and its tributary the Farset. This area was the hub around which the original settlement developed. The Irish name Béal Feirste is shared by a townland in County Mayo, whose name has been anglicised as Belfarsad.

 

An alternative interpretation of the name is "mouth of [the river] of the sandbar", an allusion to the River Farset, which flows into the Lagan where the sandbar was located. This interpretation was favoured by Edmund Hoganand John O'Donovan. It seems clear, however, that the river itself was named after the tidal crossing.

 

In Ulster Scots the name of the city is Bilfawst or Bilfaust, although "Belfast" is also used.

  

History

 

The site of Belfast has been occupied since the Bronze Age. The Giant's Ring, a 5,000-year-old henge, is located near the city, and the remains of Iron Age hill forts can still be seen in the surrounding hills. Belfast remained a small settlement of little importance during the Middle Ages. John de Courcy built a castle on what is now Castle Street in the city centre in the 12th century, but this was on a lesser scale and not as strategically important as Carrickfergus Castle to the north, which was built by de Courcy in 1177. The O'Neill clan had a presence in the area.

 

In the 14th century, Cloinne Aodha Buidhe, descendants of Aodh Buidhe O'Neill built Grey Castle at Castlereagh, now in the east of the city. Conn O'Neill of the Clannaboy O'Neills owned vast lands in the area and was the last inhabitant of Grey Castle, one remaining link being the Conn's Water river flowing through east Belfast.

 

Belfast became a substantial settlement in the 17th century after being established as a town by Sir Arthur Chichester, which was initially settled by Protestant English and Scottish migrants at the time of the Plantation of Ulster. (Belfast and County Antrim, however, did not form part of this particular Plantation scheme as they were privately colonised.) In 1791, the Society of United Irishmen was founded in Belfast, after Henry Joy McCracken and other prominent Presbyterians from the city invited Theobald Wolfe Tone and Thomas Russell to a meeting, after having read Tone's "Argument on Behalf of the Catholics of Ireland". Evidence of this period of Belfast's growth can still be seen in the oldest areas of the city, known as the Entries.

 

Belfast blossomed as a commercial and industrial centre in the 18th and 19th centuries and became Ireland's pre-eminent industrial city. Industries thrived, including linen, rope-making, tobacco, heavy engineering and shipbuilding, and at the end of the 19th century, Belfast briefly overtook Dublin as the largest city in Ireland. The Harland and Wolff shipyards became one of the largest shipbuilders in the world, employing up to 35,000 workers. In 1886 the city suffered intense riots over the issue of home rule, which had divided the city.

 

In 1920–22, Belfast became the capital of the new entity of Northern Ireland as the island of Ireland was partitioned. The accompanying conflict (the Irish War of Independence) cost up to 500 lives in Belfast, the bloodiest sectarian strife in the city until the Troubles of the late 1960s onwards.

 

The Troubles

 

Belfast has been the capital of Northern Ireland since its establishment in 1921 following the Government of Ireland Act 1920. It had been the scene of various episodes of sectarian conflict between its Catholic and Protestant populations. These opposing groups in this conflict are now often termed republican and loyalist respectively, although they are also referred to as 'nationalist' and 'unionist'. The most recent example of this conflict was known as the Troubles – a civil conflict that raged from around 1969 to 1998.

 

Belfast saw some of the worst of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, particularly in the 1970s, with rival paramilitary groups formed on both sides. Bombing, assassination and street violence formed a backdrop to life throughout the Troubles. The Provisional IRA detonated 22 bombs within the confines of Belfast city centre in 1972, on what is known as "Bloody Friday", killing eleven people. Loyalist paramilitaries including the Ulster Volunteer Force (UVF) and the Ulster Defence Association (UDA) claimed that the killings they carried out were in retaliation for the IRA campaign. Most of their victims were Catholics with no links to the Provisional IRA. A particularly notorious group, based on the Shankill Road in the mid-1970s, became known as the Shankill Butchers.

 

In all, over 1,600 people were killed in political violence in the city between 1969 and 2001. Sporadic violent events continue as of 2015, although not supported by the previous antagonists who had reached political agreement in 1998.

  

en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belfast

   

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Two mirrored forms of a synthetic female dummy create an interplay of light, shadow, and elegance. This dual composition highlights the balance between symmetry and contrast, blending form and surrealism in a minimalist aesthetic.

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