Whispers from the Earth – The Mummies of Quinto (Spain)

Nave of the Church of the Assumption, now the Museum of the Mummies of Quinto.

In the quiet town of Quinto, Aragón, something extraordinary surfaced beneath the old brick floor of a church. When workers began restoring the 15th-century Mudejar church known locally as El Piquete, they expected to uncover layers of dust and perhaps a few bones. What they found instead were naturally preserved human remains—bodies of men, women, and children, wrapped not in linen but in time itself.

These were not deliberate mummifications. There were no chemicals, no wrappings, no rituals meant to preserve the flesh. Instead, the unique microclimate beneath the church—cool, dry, and undisturbed—had done the work that nature rarely does: it kept the bodies intact. Skin, hair, even clothing had survived for centuries in the earth beneath the altar.

Today, this church is no longer a place of worship in the traditional sense. It has become the Museum of the Mummies of Quinto, Spain’s first museum dedicated entirely to naturally mummified remains. The museum doesn’t display death as spectacle, but as story. Each figure—preserved in glass, resting in silence—offers a glimpse into life as it once was in this remote part of Aragón. One was a child who never learned to walk, another an elderly woman whose worn shoes speak volumes. All were ordinary people, buried with dignity and found again with reverence.

The setting itself adds to the experience. El Piquete, with its fortress-like walls and slender Mudejar tower, embraces visitors with history. The preserved bodies rest exactly where they were buried centuries ago, making this museum less an exhibition and more a conversation between past and present.

Far from macabre, the museum invites reflection. What do these quiet bodies say about faith, poverty, sickness, or resilience? About forgotten lives in forgotten towns?

The Mummies of Quinto do not answer. They simply endure.

Interior of the Chapel of Santa Ana with display cases with some of the naturally mummified remains, Museum of the Mummies of Quinto.

Charles V: The Emperor Who Tried to Rule the World

Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor and King of Spain, 1548

At the dawn of the 16th century, Europe was a simmering pot of ambition, rebellion, faith, and war. Into this volatile world stepped Charles V—heir to the most sprawling empire Europe had seen since the Romans. With a crown on nearly every horizon, Charles didn’t just rule kingdoms; he inherited a continent’s worth of conflict.

A Man of Many Crowns

Born in 1500 in Ghent, Charles was a Habsburg by blood, and destiny dealt him a royal flush. By age 19, he was King of Spain (including its vast American colonies), Archduke of Austria, and eventually Holy Roman Emperor—a title that, at least in theory, gave him authority over much of Central Europe. His possessions stretched from Peru to the Philippines, from the Netherlands to Naples.

But with all this power came monumental challenges.

His Challenges: A Europe in Turmoil

Charles was pulled in every direction:

  • The Protestant Reformation was exploding across Germany. Sparked by the monk Martin Luther, this religious revolt split Europe between traditional Catholics and the new Protestants. Many local rulers in the Holy Roman Empire (the loose collection of territories Charles was meant to oversee) sided with Luther, not just for faith, but also to gain more independence. These rebellious leaders became known as the Protestant princes.

  • France was a constant rival. King Francis I of France spent his life trying to block Charles’s rise, leading to a string of wars and power struggles.

  • The Ottoman Empire, under Sultan Suleiman the Magnificent, was advancing steadily into Christian Europe, posing a real threat to Charles’s eastern borders.

  • Meanwhile, back in Spain and the Netherlands, revolts and resentment brewed against Charles’s centralizing rule. People often saw him as a distant ruler more focused on empire than on their daily struggles.

He wanted a united Christian world—but found himself watching it splinter. He dreamed of peace—but spent most of his reign at war. He believed in order—but ruled over chaos.

His Views: Duty, Devotion, and Dynasty

Charles was a deeply religious man who believed it was his God-given duty to defend the Catholic faith and keep Europe united under one Christian emperor. He also saw himself as a guardian of the Habsburg dynasty, whose wealth and power had been built through centuries of strategic marriages and alliances.

He held to an older, almost medieval vision of empire: one Christian ruler, one faith, one harmonious order. But Europe was changing fast. The printing press, Protestant ideas, and rising national ambitions were creating a new kind of world that Charles couldn’t control.

His Solutions: Talks, Wars, and Letting Go

To face the growing tensions in his empire, Charles used two tools: negotiation and force.

He frequently called large political gatherings known as “diets”—meetings where all the rulers of the Holy Roman Empire would come together. At these diets (like the famous Diet of Worms in 1521), Charles tried to persuade the princes and church leaders to stay united and loyal, especially on religious matters.

But when talks failed, he went to war—especially against the Protestant princes, who had broken with the Catholic Church and challenged his authority.

Sometimes he won, like at the Battle of Mühlberg in 1547, but victories didn’t last. The deeper problems—religious division, local resistance, and the sheer size of his empire—were too much for one man to solve.

By the 1550s, sick and weary, Charles realized he couldn’t hold it all together.

In 1556, he made a remarkable decision: he gave up the throne. He split his empire in two:

  • To his son Philip II, he gave Spain, its colonies, and the Netherlands.

  • To his brother Ferdinand, he gave the Austrian lands and the imperial title.

Charles then retired to a monastery in Spain, where he died two years later.

Legacy: A Man Before His Time—or Behind It?

Charles V remains one of the most fascinating figures in European history: an emperor with unmatched power who spent his life chasing peace and unity—but mostly found division and unrest. He tried to hold the old world together just as the new world was being born.

He was too Catholic for the age of religious freedom, too imperial for the rise of national states, and too committed to control for a Europe that was slipping into modernity.

But in his failures, we see the shape of the Europe that came after him: divided, plural, and constantly negotiating between power and principle. Charles didn’t conquer the world—but he showed us how hard it is to try.

Manuale Scholarium: A Medieval Student’s Guide to Survival and Shenanigans

The title page of the Manuale Scholarium, a copy from 1492, printed in Deventer (The Netherlands).

If you think student life in the Middle Ages was all about silent monks hunched over manuscripts, think again. The Manuale Scholarium, a 15th-century guide to the dos and don’ts of university life, is a riotous, sharp-witted, and surprisingly relatable glimpse into the world of medieval scholars.

From the very first page, the Manuale makes it clear that studying is only part of the student experience. A scholar, it warns, must be cunning as well as learned:

“The wise student knows when to debate and when to hold his tongue—for many a professor loves the sound of his own voice more than the truth itself.”

The book reads like a mix of survival guide and insider gossip, covering everything from how to avoid punishment for missing lectures to the best ways to win the favor of wealthy patrons. It does not shy away from the realities of student poverty, offering advice on stretching a meal and securing a free drink:

“If you must choose between buying books and buying ale, buy ale—for a man with friends may always borrow a book, but a book alone will not bring him friends.”

Despite its playful tone, the Manuale also has moments of genuine wisdom, reminding students that learning is more than just memorizing texts. It urges them to travel, to listen, to debate, and to experience the world beyond the classroom walls:

“A scholar who never wanders beyond the city gate is like a bird that refuses to leave its cage—he sings well enough, but he knows nothing of the sky.”

Reading the Manuale Scholarium today is like stepping into a medieval tavern filled with rowdy, brilliant young minds—some studious, some scheming, but all navigating the strange world of university life. It is proof that, despite the centuries, students have always been students: curious, ambitious, rebellious, and sometimes just looking for a clever way to skip a boring lecture. Anyone with an interest in history—or who has ever been a student themselves—will find this book utterly irresistible.

The Cathars of Carcassonne

Château Comtal in Carcassonne.

The Cathars were a Christian religious group that emerged in the 12th century in Southern France, particularly in the Languedoc region, challenging the authority and beliefs of the Catholic Church. Known for their dualistic beliefs, Cathars viewed the material world as evil, created by a malevolent deity, while the spiritual world was seen as pure and good. They advocated for a life of simplicity, rejecting wealth, church sacraments, and the clergy’s authority. Their spiritual leaders, known as Perfecti (the "perfect ones"), lived ascetically, embodying the Cathar ideals of purity and rejecting worldly attachments.

The rise of Catharism posed a significant threat to the Catholic Church, which responded with a crusade known as the Albigensian Crusade (1209-1229), initiated by Pope Innocent III to eradicate the movement. One of the first major targets of this campaign was Carcassonne, a thriving Cathar stronghold and a center of resistance against the crusaders. In 1209, the city was besieged and fell to the forces of Simon de Montfort, who expelled the citizens and took control. Château Comtal, the fortress at the heart of Carcassonne’s medieval citadel, became a key strategic point for the crusaders as they sought to consolidate power in the region. The castle, once controlled by the Trencavel family—who were sympathetic to the Cathars—was seized and transformed into a royal stronghold, reinforcing the Church’s and the French crown’s dominance over the region.

The crusade continued with brutal massacres and the seizure of other Cathar refuges, including the famous siege of Montségur in 1244, where hundreds of Cathars were burned at the stake. Additionally, the Inquisition was established to root out Cathar heretics, leading to the persecution and execution of countless believers.

By the 14th century, the Cathars had largely been eliminated, but their legacy endures as a symbol of religious dissent and resistance against ecclesiastical authority. Their history continues to intrigue and inspire interest in the themes of spiritual purity, opposition to corruption, and the tragic consequences of religious intolerance. The fortified Cité de Carcassonne, with Château Comtal at its heart, stands as a reminder of these turbulent times.

The Carlist Wars

Carlos María Isidro de Borbón and Isabella II (María Isabel Luisa de Borbón y Borbón-Dos Sicilias).

The Carlist Wars (1833–1876) were a series of civil conflicts in Spain that stemmed from a dynastic dispute and broader ideological divisions between traditionalists and liberals. The wars erupted after the death of King Ferdinand VII in 1833, when his daughter, Isabella II (1830-1904), was named queen under the regency of her mother, Maria Christina of the Two Sicilies. This succession was challenged by Carlos María Isidro de Borbón (1788-1855), the king’s younger brother, who claimed the throne based on the principle of male primogeniture. His supporters, known as Carlists, represented a deeply conservative faction that sought to preserve absolute monarchy, regional fueros (traditional rights), and the influence of the Catholic Church.

Opposing the Carlists were the liberal supporters of Isabella II, who aimed to modernize Spain through constitutional monarchy, centralized governance, and secular reforms. The struggle between these factions led to three major Carlist Wars (1833–1840, 1846–1849, and 1872–1876), primarily affecting regions like the Basque Country, Navarra, Catalonia, and Aragón, where Carlist support was strongest.

These wars had a lasting impact on Spain’s political and social landscape, reinforcing deep divisions that persisted well into the 20th century. The Carlist movement continued as a political force even after its military defeat, influencing Spanish conservatism and nationalist movements.

Le Gros-Horloge (Rouen, France)

Le Gros-Horloge

In the heart of Rouen, Normandy, stands the Grande Horloge, or Le Gros Horloge, a medieval astronomical clock with a rich history. Initially constructed in 1389 by Jourdain del Leche, it lacked a face and was later completed by Jean de Felain. In 1529, the clock was moved to its current location on a Renaissance archway over Rue du Gros-Horloge, featuring two identical dials​.

Le Gros Horloge's dial showcases a golden sun with 24 rays, and a single hand that completes one revolution per day. A smaller sphere above displays the moon phases, while Roman gods represent the days of the week below​.

Throughout its history, the clock has witnessed significant events, including Joan of Arc's execution in 1431 and WWII bombings, which it survived. Electrified in the 1920s and restored in 1997, the clock remains a symbol of Rouen's heritage​.

Today, the belfry houses a museum displaying the clock's mechanics and offering panoramic views of the city, blending historical insight with stunning scenery​

The Mystery of the Bronze Figure Plate at the Museu Episcopal de Vic

MEV 7946 at the Museu Episcopal de Vic.

In one of the display cases in the Museu Episcopal de Vic (MEV) lies a small and enigmatic Iron Age object: a stylized bronze anthropomorphic plate with hanging pendants, catalogued as MEV Inv. 7946. Dated to the 7th–6th century BCE and attributed to the Picene culture of central Italy, this piece has puzzled researchers and raises intriguing questions about trans-Adriatic connections, ritual symbolism, and even its own provenance.

An Unusual Artifact

The bronze object in question takes the form of a schematic human figure: a flat, trapezoidal plate with raised arms, a loop-shaped head, and a series of perforations along the lower edge. These holes are used to attach a set of ritual pendants, including miniatures of hands, axes, spoons, and abstract shapes. Despite its simplicity, the plate radiates symbolic density: the outstretched arms may signify prayer or invocation; the pendants suggest ritual paraphernalia. It is not merely decorative—it is a visual language of power, status, and possibly female priesthood.

A Rare Type from Picenum

Objects of this type are exceedingly rare. Closely comparable pieces have only been securely documented in a few elite tombs from Picenum, a culturally rich region along the Adriatic coast of central Italy (modern-day Marche and Abruzzo). Graves at Montegiorgio, Montambone, and Ascoli Piceno have yielded similar anthropomorphic plaques, often found with women of high status. The distinctive combination of stylized form and symbolic pendants appears to be a Picene cultural signature.

This association is supported by the object's typology, metallurgy, and symbolic language, all of which firmly point to an Adriatic-Italic tradition. Furthermore, no parallels of this type have been found in the northeast of the Iberian Peninsula, including the region of Tarragona—where this object is allegedly said to have been found.

A Problematic Provenance

This brings us to the most confounding aspect of MEV 7946: its provenance. The object entered the museum's collection as part of a group of bronzes said to have been discovered near Tarragona. However, multiple clues cast doubt on this claim:

  • Typological mismatch: The object shares no stylistic, functional, or technological features with Iberian Iron Age bronzes from the region.

  • Cultural singularity: The anthropomorphic figure plate is entirely absent from Iberian archaeological records.

  • Contextual inconsistency: The collection includes a restored fibula (inv. 30) and other items of varied patina and corrosion, suggesting a modern aggregation of separate finds.

  • Trade and antiquarian channels: The early 20th century saw numerous Picene artifacts enter European collections via the antiquities market, often with unclear or falsified findspots.

Together, these factors strongly suggest that MEV 7946 may not have been found in Spain at all, but rather acquired through art dealers or collectors who misattributed—or intentionally obscured—its origin.

Ritual Meaning and Cross-Cultural Echoes

Despite its murky provenance, the object opens a window onto the ritual world of Iron Age elites. The raised arms and pendant symbols resonate with themes of supplication, protection, and magical function. Interestingly, similar symbolic arrangements appear in other Iron Age cultures, such as the Paeonians of the Vardar Valley (in present-day North Macedonia), whose elite women also wore composite ornaments with symbolic danglers. Though unrelated culturally, the convergence suggests widespread visual languages of status and sanctity across Iron Age Europe.

Conclusion

MEV 7946 is a unique artifact with a powerful presence—and an uncertain past. While its design and meaning root it firmly in Picene ritual tradition, its presence in a Spanish collection remains unexplained and increasingly doubtful. Rather than diminishing its significance, this mystery only deepens the object’s allure: a trans-Adriatic ambassador of Iron Age spirituality, displaced in time and space, but still eloquent in bronze.

Its silence speaks volumes.

Berenguela/Berengaria of Castile (1180–1246): The Woman Who United Castile and León

Berenguela/Berengaria of Castile.

Berenguela/Berengaria of Castile, born in 1180, was a royal daughter who became one of the most remarkable political figures in medieval Iberia. As the eldest child of King Alfonso VIII of Castile and Queen Eleanor of England (daughter of Henry II of England and Eleanor of Aquitaine), Berengaria grew up in a court where diplomacy, faith, and power were deeply intertwined. Although she ruled Castile for only a short time, her influence stretched across decades. Through her foresight, personal sacrifice, and political skill, she helped unify Castile and León under her son Ferdinand III—altering the course of Spanish history.

From childhood, Berengaria was treated as a valuable political asset. For several years, she was the presumptive heir to Castile, and at age nine, she was betrothed to Conrad of Swabia, son of the Holy Roman Emperor Frederick Barbarossa. The proposed alliance between Castile and the empire was ambitious but ultimately abandoned, likely under pressure from Berengaria’s grandmother, Eleanor of Aquitaine. Conrad’s death in 1196 ended the matter permanently.

The next alliance would prove far more consequential. In 1197, the teenage Berengaria married King Alfonso IX of León—her cousin—in a calculated move to ease tensions between the two rival kingdoms. The union produced five children, including the future Ferdinand III, but it soon drew the disapproval of the Church. Pope Innocent III declared the marriage invalid due to their close blood relationship. Berengaria, however, skillfully negotiated to ensure that their children remained legally recognized as legitimate heirs. After the annulment, she returned to Castile with her children, where she devoted herself to securing their future and maintaining her political independence.

In 1214, following the death of her father, Berengaria's younger brother Henry I became king at just ten years old. Their mother, Queen Eleanor, briefly acted as regent, but died shortly after. Berengaria stepped into the regency but soon faced opposition from Castile’s most powerful noble faction, the House of Lara. Forced to relinquish power in 1215, she quietly withdrew, keeping a close watch as the political situation in Castile grew increasingly unstable.

Tragedy struck two years later. In 1217, King Henry I died in a bizarre accident—a falling roof tile ended his life at age thirteen. Berengaria, understanding the stakes, kept the death secret while she arranged for her son Ferdinand—then living at his father’s court in León—to return to Castile. Once Ferdinand was safely by her side, Berengaria publicly announced her brother’s death and claimed the crown as the rightful heir. But rather than rule herself in an era suspicious of female monarchs, she immediately abdicated in favor of her 18-year-old son. This deliberate and strategic act not only preserved the succession but prevented her former husband Alfonso IX from pressing his own claim. Berengaria’s actions stabilized the kingdom and allowed Ferdinand III to ascend the throne without bloodshed.

Though Berengaria never again wore a crown, she remained deeply involved in her son’s reign. She was his most trusted adviser, helping him manage the kingdom and avoid conflict. She arranged important marriages to strengthen Castile’s alliances, including Ferdinand’s first marriage to Elisabeth of Hohenstaufen, linking Castile to the Holy Roman Empire. After Elisabeth’s death, Berengaria and her sister Blanche of Castile chose Joan of Ponthieu as Ferdinand’s second wife, building ties with France. She also arranged the marriage of her daughter to John of Brienne, a respected leader in European politics. Through these careful alliances, Berengaria helped secure Castile’s place in the wider world.

Perhaps Berengaria’s most impressive achievement came in 1230. Upon the death of Alfonso IX, the throne of León did not pass to Ferdinand, but to two daughters from Alfonso’s first marriage. Rather than risking war, Berengaria personally negotiated with the two princesses and their mother, Queen Teresa of Portugal. The result was the Treaty of Las Tercerías, in which the daughters renounced their claims in exchange for compensation. This brilliant diplomacy allowed Ferdinand III to inherit León and unite it with Castile, forming the foundation of a future Spanish kingdom.

While Ferdinand waged war in the south during the Reconquista, Berengaria governed the heartland. She ensured the loyalty of nobles, maintained stability, and supported the military campaigns through strategic administration and resource mobilization. She was also a devout patron of religious institutions. She supported the Order of Santiago, endowed monasteries, and continued to sponsor Las Huelgas Abbey, where she was later buried. She also promoted historical writing, commissioning chronicles to preserve and legitimize her family's legacy.

Berengaria died in 1246, having lived to see her son triumph in Córdoba, Jaén, and Seville, and recognized as a defender of Christendom. She was buried at Las Huelgas Abbey in Burgos, among her royal ancestors.

History remembers Berengaria as one of the great queens of medieval Europe—not because she held power for its own sake, but because she used it wisely, and often relinquished it when others would have clung to it. She united two kingdoms, shaped a future saint, and ensured that her son’s rule rested on a foundation of peace, not conquest. Her legacy lives on in the enduring strength of the Castilian-Leonese crown, and in the very idea of Spain as a unified realm.

Further Reading

  • MedievalWomen.org – "Berengaria of Castile (1180–1246)" – A comprehensive summary of Berengaria’s life and political achievements, including her regency and crucial decision to abdicate to her son.

  • Shadis, Miriam – Berenguela of Castile and Political Women in the High Middle Ages. An academic study analyzing Berengaria’s role as a female ruler and her strategies in a male-dominated political sphere.

  • Bianchini, Janna – The Queen’s Hand: Power and Authority in the Reign of Berenguela of Castile. A scholarly book (University of Pennsylvania Press, 2012) offering an in-depth look at Berengaria’s reign and influence on 13th-century Iberian politics.

Miracle of the Rose, by Jean Genet

Jean Genet’s Miracle of the Rose (1946) is a semi-autobiographical novel that merges memory, desire, and mysticism with the brutal realities of prison life. Written while Genet was incarcerated in Fresnes Prison in the 1940s, the novel recounts his time at the Mettray Penal Colony, where he was sent in 1926 at the age of 15, and his later imprisonment at Fontevraud l'Abbaye, a former monastery converted into a prison in 1804. Originally founded in 1101 as a religious order, Fontevraud had housed monks, nuns, and even the tombs of Plantagenet royalty before becoming one of France’s most notorious penal institutions. By the time Genet was imprisoned there in the 1930s, it had become a place of harsh punishment, its monastic past casting an eerie presence over the lives of its inmates.

Genet’s troubled youth set him on a path toward crime and incarceration. Abandoned by his mother as an infant, he grew up in foster care before being sent to a reformatory for theft at age 15. His criminal record, marked by theft, fraud, desertion, and vagabondage, led to repeated prison sentences throughout the 1930s. Rather than seeking redemption, Genet embraced his outlaw identity, viewing crime as an act of defiance against a society that had rejected him.

In Miracle of the Rose, Genet transforms these prison experiences into a poetic and almost sacred vision of suffering and transcendence. Central to the novel is Harcamone, a fellow prisoner sentenced to death, whom Genet elevates to a saint-like figure. Through dreamlike prose and nonlinear storytelling, he challenges conventional morality, turning crime, love, and punishment into elements of a spiritual journey. The novel, published in 1946, was one of several works that contributed to Genet’s growing literary reputation. His literary success, along with a petition led by Jean Cocteau and Jean-Paul Sartre, led to his final pardon by President Vincent Auriol in August 1949, securing his release from prison.

Blurring the lines between autobiography and myth, Miracle of the Rose remains one of Genet’s most provocative works, reimagining imprisonment as a space of eroticism, martyrdom, and transformation.

Fontevraud Abbey.

Kruidtuin of Leuven (Belgium)

The Kruidtuin of Leuven, also known as the Leuven Botanical Garden, is the oldest botanical garden in Belgium, established in 1738 by the University of Leuven (KU Leuven). Originally created as a medicinal herb garden for medical students, it was driven by professor Henricus-Josephus Rega to provide practical knowledge of medicinal plants.

Over time, the garden expanded and transformed, surviving periods of uncertainty, such as during the French occupation. By the 19th century, it evolved into a space for both academic study and public enjoyment, featuring exotic plants and greenhouses.

Today, the 2.2-hectare garden hosts over 800 plant species and offers a serene retreat with walking paths and water features, continuing its legacy as a scientific and public treasure in the heart of Leuven.

The Porte d'Ardon, Laon (France)

The Porte d'Ardon, one of the few remaining medieval gates, is a testament to Laon's defensive past. Built in the 13th century, this impressive gate was part of the city's extensive fortifications, serving as a main entrance to the walled city.

The Fall of Nineveh

Assyrian soldiers carry beheaded heads of their prisoners from the town of "-alammu", reign of Sennacherib, 700-692 BC. From the South-West Palace at Nineveh, in modern-day Iraq. The British Museum, London.

On August 10th, 612 BC, the ancient metropolis of Nineveh suffered a dramatic fall, as recorded in the historiographical text "ABC 3" from ancient Babylonia. At that time, Nineveh held the distinction of being the largest city in the world and served as the capital of Assyria. This significant event marked what historians now refer to as the "First" Fall of Nineveh, a pivotal moment in ancient history. The "second" Fall of Nineveh occurred in 2015, marked by further destruction inflicted by ISIS.

The decline of the Assyrian Empire began with the instability following the death of King Aššurbanipal in 631 BC, coinciding with the Babylonians' loss of independence. Around 627 BC, Nabopolassar, a Babylonian general, emerged victorious over the Assyrians near Babylon, marking the beginning of the Babylonian Empire. However, Nabopolassar's aspirations extended beyond liberation; he sought to dismantle the capital cities of Babylonia, including the religious center at Aššur and the administrative hub at Nineveh. To prevent this shift in power, the Egyptians provided military support to Assyria.

By July 616 BC, Nabopolassar secured a victory against Assyrian forces on the banks of the Euphrates. However, faced with the encroaching Egyptian army, he retreated. Seizing the opportunity amidst the unrest, the Medes, a tribal federation residing in modern Iran, took control of Nineveh by the end of the following year.

Nabopolassar forged a strategic alliance with the Medes king Umakištar (Cyaxares), and the joint Medes-Babylonian army launched an invasion of Nineveh in May 612 BC. The city ultimately fell in July, culminating in extensive looting that persisted until August 10th, as noted in historical records. This event reverberated throughout the ancient world and was even reported by the distant Greek poet Phocylides of Miletus, underscoring the magnitude of Nineveh's destruction.

Artist’s impression of Assyrian palaces from The Monuments of Nineveh by Sir Austen Henry Layard, 1853. — image in the public domain.

Saint-Mystère Remains Silent 10

Monsieur et Madamme Blachet (Saint-Mystère, France; Tribute to Ralph Eugene Meatyard).

For many years, he taught the principles of motion, and she the art of listening between the lines. Monsieur Blanchet, with chalk-dusted cuffs and quiet hands, once filled the blackboard with stars and falling objects. Madame Blanchet, always in black, guided the young village girls through their first uncertain words and the rhythms of the songs no one dares recite anymore.

Now they sit together, every sunday, on the chairs by the old school. They no longer speak, but they never stopped watching—nor remembering.

The village calls them les Instruits, though not aloud. In Saint-Mystère, even names are whispered through gestures.

Some believe they still teach, in their way. That if you sit close enough, and wait long enough, you might learn something no book ever held.

But no one has dared to try. Not yet.

San Julián de Cuenca (1128-1208) – Patron Saint of Cuenca (Spain)

A painting of San Julián and Lesmes, Cuenca (Spain). (Lesmes is the saint’s faithful servant and companion.)

San Julián de Cuenca, the patron saint of Cuenca, served as the city's second bishop from 1198 to 1208. Born in Burgos around 1128, he excelled as a scholar and teacher before choosing a life of solitude and prayer. In 1198, King Alfonso VIII appointed him bishop of Cuenca, a city newly reclaimed from Muslim rule.

During his decade as bishop, San Julián devoted himself to rebuilding the diocese and caring for the needy. He became known as the "father of the poor," often depicted weaving baskets to raise money for those in need. His simple lifestyle and unwavering generosity left a lasting legacy of faith and compassion. Recognizing his holiness, Pope Clement VIII canonized him in 1594.

This painting is housed in the Cathedral of Santa María y San Julián de Cuenca, a stunning example of Early Gothic architecture, built between the late 12th and early 13th centuries. The cathedral, one of the first Gothic churches in Spain, stands as a testament to Cuenca's medieval Christian heritage and the enduring influence of its beloved patron saint.

The Crusades

A Story of Faith, Fire, and Far Horizons

Louis IX (Saint Louis, 1214 - 1270) on a ship departing from Aigues-Mortes, for the Seventh Crusade.

In the closing years of the 11th century, a dramatic call echoed through the vaulted halls of medieval Europe. At the Council of Clermont in 1095, Pope Urban II, standing before an assembly of lords and clerics, issued a passionate appeal: to journey eastward and reclaim Jerusalem, the holiest of cities, from Muslim rule.

The Pope's words, laden with religious fervor and political intent, offered salvation and absolution, but also a sense of purpose to a continent gripped by spiritual tension, overpopulation, and shifting power structures. “Deus vult!”—“God wills it!”—became the rallying cry of thousands.

This moment was the spark that ignited the Crusades, a series of armed pilgrimages that would span two centuries. Though born from spiritual longing, the Crusades quickly became entwined with ambitions of power, wealth, and land. They were as much a collision of empires as they were a pilgrimage of souls.

The Crusades:

The story of the Crusades is not one of a single war, but a series of waves, each shaped by shifting motives and unfolding with consequences that continue to ripple across history.

First Crusade (1096–1099): A Blood-Stained Victory

From farms and fiefdoms, a mass of knights, peasants, and clergy poured eastward, driven by Urban’s promise of salvation. They faced disease, starvation, and endless hardship. Yet, in 1099, they breached the walls of Jerusalem, bathing the city in blood and claiming it for Christendom. The Kingdom of Jerusalem and other Crusader states were born—fragile footholds in the Islamic world.

Second Crusade (1147–1149): Failure and Fracture

Alarmed by the fall of Edessa, Europe's monarchs—Louis VII of France and Conrad III of Germany—led another expedition. Poorly organized and badly coordinated, their efforts faltered. The failure deepened divisions and sowed disillusionment among the faithful.

Third Crusade (1189–1192): The Duel of Titans

The legendary Muslim leader Saladin recaptured Jerusalem in 1187, prompting a high-profile response: Richard the Lionheart, Philip II, and Frederick Barbarossa rallied armies. After epic sieges and fierce battles, Richard retook territory but failed to reclaim the city. Still, Christian pilgrims were again allowed to enter Jerusalem. Chivalry and respect marked this war, especially between Richard and Saladin.

Fourth Crusade (1202–1204): Christians Against Christians

What began as a campaign to reclaim the Holy Land ended in tragedy. Manipulated by Venetian interests and internal politics, Crusaders diverted to Constantinople, sacking the Eastern Christian capital in 1204. This deepened the schism between East and West, and revealed how secular motives had begun to outweigh spiritual ones.

Albigensian and Baltic Crusades (1209–13th Century): Faith Turned Inward

The Church now pointed the cross inward. In southern France, the Albigensian Crusade targeted the Cathar heretics—brutal and effective. Meanwhile, in the Baltic, crusading knights turned their swords on pagan tribes, expanding Christendom into northeastern Europe.

Fifth and Sixth Crusades (1217–1229): Negotiation Over Blood

New efforts focused on Egypt, the strategic key to the Holy Land. The Fifth Crusade failed, but Emperor Frederick II in the Sixth Crusade achieved what armies had not: a peaceful handover of Jerusalem. Yet, it was short-lived. Within a decade, the city was lost again.

Seventh and Eighth Crusades (1248–1270): The Last King’s Crusades

Led by the devout Louis IX of France, these later campaigns ended in disaster. Captured in Egypt during the Seventh, and dead in Tunisia during the Eighth, Louis’ noble attempts showed that the age of Christian military dominance in the East was waning.

1291: The Fall of Acre and the End of an Era

The Crusader stronghold of Acre fell to the Mamluks, marking the collapse of Christian rule in the Holy Land. The dream of a permanent Christian Jerusalem was over. The Crusader states vanished, and with them, the last hope of a European kingdom in the Levant.

Further Reading

  1. Thomas Asbridge, The Crusades: The War for the Holy Land

  2. Christopher Tyerman, God’s War: A New History of the Crusades

  3. Carole Hillenbrand, The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives

  4. Jonathan Riley-Smith, The Crusades: A History

  5. Helen Nicholson, The Crusades: A Beginner’s Guide

The Siege of Ypres (1383, Belgium)

The Siege of Ypres (1383), painted by Joris Liebaert in 1667 (St. Martin's Cathedral, Ypres, Belgium). - The left side of the painting illustrates the siege, while the right side portrays the procession honoring Our Lady of the Enclosure, to whom the city's successful defense was attributed.

The Siege of Ypres (1383) was a pivotal event in the Ghent War (1379–1385), a broader conflict between the rebellious city of Ghent and the Count of Flanders, Louis II of Male. The siege took place during the Despenser’s Crusade, an English-backed military campaign led by Henry le Despenser, Bishop of Norwich, under the auspices of Pope Urban VI. The crusade was part of the larger conflict between the Avignon and Roman papacies during the Western Schism, but in Flanders, it became intertwined with local struggles for power.

Supported by the English and their allies in Ghent, the besieging forces attempted to capture the strategic city of Ypres, a wealthy Flemish trade hub loyal to the count. However, despite initial successes, the siege ultimately failed due to strong resistance from the defenders and the intervention of a French relief army. The failed assault marked a significant setback for both the English and the Ghent rebels, reinforcing French dominance in the region and contributing to the eventual downfall of the rebellion.

Juan Pacheco and the Castilian Succession Crisis

The Castle of Belmonte (Spain), built by Juan Pacheco.

Juan Pacheco (1419 – 1474), 1st Marquis of Villena, was one of the most powerful and ambitious nobles in 15th-century Castile. As a close advisor to King Henry IV (Henry the Impotent), he held great influence at court. However, his shifting loyalties and political maneuvers helped create the conflict that led to the Castilian Succession Crisis. By switching sides multiple times, Pacheco played a key role in shaping the fight for the throne.

At first, Pacheco was one of Henry IV’s most trusted allies. He gained large amounts of land and power, including the lordship of Belmonte, where he built the Castle of Belmonte in 1456. But when other nobles, like Beltrán de la Cueva, started to gain the king’s favor, Pacheco felt threatened and turned against Henry IV.

In 1465, he joined a group of nobles who wanted to remove the king, arguing that Henry was weak and unfit to rule. They staged the Farce of Ávila, a public event where they symbolically deposed the king and declared his half-brother, Prince Alfonso, the rightful ruler. Pacheco became one of Alfonso’s main advisors and military leaders, but when Alfonso died suddenly in 1468, Pacheco had to find a new way to stay in power.

He then switched his support to Isabella, Henry IV’s half-sister, helping to negotiate the Treaty of the Bulls of Guisando (1468), where Henry named her as his heir. However, Pacheco wanted to control Isabella’s decisions. When she secretly married Ferdinand of Aragon in 1469 against his wishes, he saw her as a threat and once again changed sides. He returned to Henry IV’s camp and supported Joanna la Beltraneja, Henry’s daughter, as the rightful heir.

Pacheco’s constant shifting between rival factions deepened the crisis and helped lead to the War of the Castilian Succession (1475–1479). However, he did not live to see the war begin, as he died in 1474. Though his political plans ultimately failed, his influence left a lasting mark on Castile, and his Castle of Belmonte still stands as a reminder of his wealth and ambition.

Sunday Morning by Hendrik Jacobus Scholten (1865–1868)

Sunday Morning by Hendrik Jacobus Scholten (1865–1868).

Sunday Morning, painted by Dutch artist Hendrik Jacobus Scholten in the mid-19th century, presents an idealized domestic scene that echoes the spirit and aesthetics of the 17th-century Dutch Golden Age. While executed during the Romantic period, the painting pays deliberate homage to the values, interiors, and atmosphere of an earlier, revered time in Dutch history.

The composition centers around two women—an elderly lady seated by the fireplace and a young woman, likely her daughter or caretaker, reading aloud from a Bible. The younger woman is elegantly dressed in a lustrous silver-grey gown with a lace collar, typical of 17th-century upper-middle-class fashion. Her hair is neatly styled, and her posture is modest yet attentive. She sits on a low stool, slightly turned toward the older woman, projecting humility and devotion.

The elderly woman, wearing a dark cloak with fur trimming and a traditional white cap, listens intently. Her position near the hearth, in a high-backed wooden armchair, evokes the iconography of age, wisdom, and domestic authority often seen in 17th-century portraits of matriarchs.

The room is a well-appointed Dutch interior, lit softly from the left. A grand fireplace dominates the back wall, with a sculpted frieze of classical putti resting on the mantel—an ornamental detail that would have been found in wealthier 17th-century homes. Above the mantel hangs a portrait of a stern-looking man, possibly a deceased patriarch, anchoring the family's continuity and memory.

Other details—tiled flooring, oak paneling, restrained color palette, and decorative yet modest household objects—evoke a typically Protestant, bourgeois home in the Dutch Republic.

The subject matter—a family Bible reading on Sunday morning—speaks directly to Protestant values dominant in the 17th-century Netherlands: faith, family, moral education, and the sanctity of the Sunday. The act of reading scripture together reflects the importance of personal piety and literacy, values encouraged in Calvinist households. The absence of overt church symbols (no crucifix, no icons) underlines a Reformed emphasis on inner devotion over ecclesiastical ritual.

The generational aspect—the young woman reading to the older—emphasizes filial duty and the transmission of religious values across time. In 17th-century Dutch painting, such themes were often subtly moralizing: they celebrated domestic virtue and encouraged reflection on mortality, aging, and the righteous life.

Moreover, the meticulous attention to furnishings and clothing connects to genre painting of the Dutch Golden Age, where everyday scenes were imbued with ethical overtones and precise social coding.

Although painted in the 1860s, Sunday Morning is more than nostalgic. Scholten’s work is part of a 19th-century Romantic trend in the Netherlands that looked back to the Golden Age as a source of national identity, moral strength, and aesthetic inspiration. The scene is idealized, free of disorder or social tension, and meant to embody timeless values of calm, order, and devotion.

In doing so, Scholten creates not just a domestic tableau, but a kind of moral memory—a visual reassurance that the virtues of the past can still guide the present.

The Majestic Cathedral of Jaén (Spain)

Catedral de la Asunción de Nuestra Señora, Jaén (Spain).

The Cathedral of Jaén, officially known as the Catedral de la Asunción de Nuestra Señora, is one of the most significant architectural landmarks in southern Spain. Located in the heart of Jaén, it stands on the site of a former mosque, with construction beginning in the early 16th century. The cathedral was built to replace the original Gothic church, which had been damaged during the Christian reconquest. Its construction spanned over several decades, finally completed in 1724, blending Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque styles.

Designed by the renowned architect Andrés de Vandelvira, the cathedral is a masterpiece of Renaissance architecture, particularly noted for its elegant façade and harmonious proportions. The building’s most iconic feature is its grand dome, which rises above the city and is one of the largest in Spain. The cathedral's interior is equally impressive, with a central nave flanked by chapels, and a beautiful altar made of marble. The church houses a remarkable collection of religious art, including works by notable artists like Juan Martínez Montañés, and sculptures such as the Cristo de la Expiración, an iconic piece by the same sculptor.

The Cathedral of Jaén is also home to the Capilla del Santo Rostro, a chapel dedicated to the Santo Rostro, a relic believed to be the veil of Veronica, associated with Christ’s Passion. This makes the cathedral a significant pilgrimage site.

In addition to its religious and architectural value, the Cathedral of Jaén is recognized as a symbol of the city, drawing visitors from all over the world to admire its beauty and historical significance. It is classified as a national monument and continues to serve as the seat of the Diocese of Jaén.