![]() In a sense it’s difficult to properly replicate the hand-forged nails of old in the 21st century because of the lack of the wrought iron they were made from, but the steel nail I can make is functionally equivalent even if it requires a lot more effort to forge. The modern round wire nail appeared in the second half of the 19th century, and because it could be made by automated machinery it quickly displaced the cut nail. These retained the four-sided taper of the hand-forged older nails, but had a much more uniform look. It was around the end of the 18th century when the first significantly different nails emerged, the cut nail, so-called because it was formed as a tapered piece cut from a sheet of metal. Even then, the first machines were designed only to speed up production of these traditional nails, the finished product is very similar to its predecessor. The shape of a nail changed little from Roman times until the first nail-making machinery appeared in the 17th century. A pair of Roman nails, part of an exhibit in the British Museum. There are special dies for forming nail heads into which the point is inserted so the head can be hammered flat, but it is also possible with a little skill to hammer the end flat upon the edge of the anvil. These are the nails that the Holkham blacksmith is making, as well as those that I am interested in. The first nails were entirely hand forged from a piece of wrought-iron bar into a tapered point about 6″ (150 mm) long, with a head hand-formed by hammering flat a piece of untapered original stock. This image and the history behind it have intrigued me for years, to the extent that I’ve eyed up more than a few seven-century-old metal fastenings in my time Until recently though I’d never had a go at making my own, but with a weekend at Hack42 and a portable forge to play with it seemed like an opportune moment to do my nails. Thanks, unknown mediaeval monk, you really don’t want to know how this lady blacksmith would draw you! The historians tell us that this was an activity seen as women’s work because the nails used in the Crucifixion were reputed to have been forged by a woman, and for that reason she is depicted as something of an ugly crone. She’s a blacksmith’s wife, and she’s forging a mediaeval carpenter’s nail. One of its more famous pages is the one that caught my eye, because it depicts a woman wearing a blacksmith’s apron over her dress while she operates a forge. All of mediaeval life is there, sharply observed in beautiful colour, for among the Biblical scenes there are contemporary images of the people who would have inhabited the world of whichever monks created it. This is an illustrated book of Biblical stories from the years around 1330, and it is notable for the extent and quality of its illuminations. Why am I so sure? To answer that I must take you to the British Library, and open the pages of the Holkham Bible. ![]() The woman blacksmith forging a nail depicted in the Holkham Bible. It seems apposite to pick the year 1337, doesn’t it. Not for me the lure of a stately home in Regency England or the Royal court of Tudor London despite the really cool outfits, instead I would head directly for the 14th century and the reign of King Edward the Third, to play the part of a blacksmith’s wife making nails. If for some reason I were to acknowledge the inevitability of encroaching middle age and abandon the hardware hacker community for the more sedate world of historical recreation, I know exactly which band of enthusiasts I’d join and what period I would specialise in.
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