Todays stamp journey takes us to Strasbourg, France. The stamp shown commemorates the 500th Anniversary of the completion of the Strasbourg cathedral. Construction began in 1176 and ended in 1439 and it was the world’s tallest building from 1647 to 1874 (227 years), Impressive enough but the tale to be told does not take place in the cathedral but in the streets below it.

In July of 1518 a lone woman began dancing in the streets. No music was playing and her dance steps were erratic. She swayed and twirled and, although her husband tried to stop her, she would not stop dancing. SHe would not speak and stared blankly at all who approached her as if they did not exist. Several days went by and she continued her dance both night and day.

Soon she was joined by a few others who also would not stop. The local officials were upset. In fact one had recently written about the “folly of dance” and denounced the dancers. More days went by and unable to stop the dancers and the crowds that had formed did the only thing they could do. They brought in musicians who played dance music.

As the numbers of dancers swelled the officials asked medical professionals what might be the cause of this mysterious ailment. They were perplexed but finally came to a diagnoses of “hot blood” or “overheated blood”. Their treatment was to let them dance it off. So they erected stages where the dancers could dance, hired more musicians and had large, strong men attend to the dancers when they grew to weak and would collapse without their support.

Dancing continued for several weeks and, according to writings, “In their madness people kept up their dancing until they fell unconscious and many died.” They soon determined that the town had somehow drawn the wrath of St. Vitus. Vitus is considered the patron saint of actors, comedians, dancers, and epileptics. He is also said to protect against lightning strikes, animal attacks and oversleeping.

The venues were shut down, the musicians ordered to stop and the dancers (continuing to dance) and the townsfolk did a pilgrimage to the nearby town of Saverne where they prayed at a shrine dedicated to St. Vitus. The dancers (still dancing) feet were placed in red shoes and they were led in circles around a statue of St. Vitus.

Much to the relief of all involved it seemed to do the trick and soon the dancing stopped. Thankfully because it was estimated that 15 people a day died at it’s high point.

Many theories have been suggested for this strange event. One is the ingestion of a mold that grows on damp rye and produces a chemical related to LSD. It can induce terrifying hallucinations and violent twitching. However, the effects would not last for the many days the dancing lasted. Some had suggested mass hysteria. The accepted reason, at the time however, was that St. Vitus could curse anyone who displeased him and make them dance. Perhaps you could be cursed by oversleeping. If so, make your way to the Cathedral in Strausbourg, France and dance til you drop.

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Have a great day!

In 1997 this stamp featuring Princess Olga of the Ukraine was issued. Princess Olga, also known as Olga of Kiev, was known to be a very beautiful and strong woman. As such she drew the attention of men throughout the lands. Unfortunately for them she was quite happily married to Igor of Kiev and had a young son with him.

When their son was only three a rival tribe, the Drevlians, attacked Igor of Kiev and killed him in the hopes of convincing Olga to marry the Drevlian Prince Mal. Svyatoslav, their son, became the official ruler of Kievan Rus but was too young to rule so Olga became regent until such age he could take charge.

With Igor out of the picture it wasn’t long before Prince Mal made his move. He sent a boat with 20 emissaries to her to ask her to marry him. She promptly buried them alive, along with their boat, in a deep pit.

Undeterred, Prince Mal sent a group of noblemen to plead with her to marry him. She wined and dined them and invited them to her royal bath house where they were locked inside and burned alive.

Finally, she invited the Drevlians to a feast to honor her slain husband. During the feast, as they enjoyed their food and wine coma, she had her soldiers slaughter all 5000 of them.

Olga attacked the Drevlians and burned their town to the ground. She ruled from 945 to 963 until her son was old enough to take power. She was a very benevolent and kind ruler by all accounts and is known for her initiating the building of stone buildings in Russia. Maybe to keep them from being burned so easily.

She is also one of the first Russian rulers to adapt christianity and one of only 5 women to be canonized (sainted). She is the patron saint of widows.

In 1984 North Korea issued stamps depicting German Monarchs. I am not sure why other than they may have enjoyed the artwork. This is the sheet issued:

Images of the various exploits of kings and queens neatly stacked surrounded by an ornate border.

We will be focusing on the gentleman in the upper left, King Conrad III. The story comes from the (for those who care) Chronica regia Coloniensis (the “Royal Chronicle of Cologne”), also called the Annales Colonsiensis maximi and appears as follows:

A. D. 1140. rex urbem Welponis ducis Baioariorum, Winesberg dictam, obsedit et in deditionem accepit, matronis ac ceteris feminis ibi repertis hac regali liberalitate licentia concessa, ut quaeque humeris valerent deportarent. Quae tam fidei maritorum quam sospitati ceterorum consulentes, obmissa suppellectili descendebant viros humeris portantes. Duci vero Friderico ne talia fierent contradicente, rex favens subdolositati feminarum dixit, regium verbum non decere immutare. (Annales Colonsienses maximi, MGH SS, Book 17, p. 759, 17-27)

For those who may be a bit rusty with their latin, let me explain.

King Conrad, in 1140, lay seige to Weinsberg castle in Baden-Wurttemberg, Germany. He vowed to destroy the castle and kill everyone inside. Before he staged his final attack a surrender was agreed to. King Conrad would let the women of the town leave with whatever valuables they could carry on their backs. The men who stayed behind would be killed. The castle residents agreed.

As the gates opened, the towns women, instead of carrying valuables, hoisted their men on their backs and carried them through the gates. Laughing, the king agreed to stand by his words and let them leave saying, “A king should always stand by his word.”

Today the castle is known as Weibertreu which means “wifely loyalty”.

This stamp is of Pedro I, also known as Peter I, who was king of Portugal. He ruled from 1320 to 1367.

Before he became king, however, Prince Pedro was married, through an arranged marriage, to his first wife who died in 1345. Shortly after he fell in love with a beautiful, young woman named Ines de Castro.

Ines was a commoner. Traditionally, in those times, marriages stayed between royal families in order to form strategic and political allies and maintain family reputations. Ines could bring none of that to the table and Prince Pedro’s father, King Afonso IV would have none of it.

King Afonso hired three men to kidnap Ines and kill her. They captured her and beheaded her.

When Prince Pedro found out his love was dead he vowed revenge on the men and on his father but knew he did not wield the power to go against his father, so he bided his time. When King Afonso died a few years later, in 1357, and Pedro became King of Portugal he put his plan into action.

King Pedro found the three men who killed his bride to be and had their hearts removed while they were still alive. Then he had Ines body exhumed, dressed in the Queens royal robes and sat her on her throne next to his.

A bit unhinged, he then decreed that all residents of the kingdom would come and pay respects to his Queen. Each resident came and bowed and lifted her skeletal hand to their lips and kissed it.

I was not able to find out what happened to Ines but King Pedro went on to be a cruel king. He ruled his kingdom with brutality and violence.

How many people do you have to kill to get featured on, not one but two, stamps? The answer can be found below.

Born in 1916 in a small town in the Ukraine she was an strong willed girl. Her family moved to Kiev in 1930 and she worked as a grinder in a munitions factory while studying history in college. Known as a tomboy she was active in sports including pole vaulting.

Upon hearing a neighborhood boy boasting of his abilities with a gun she took up the challenge and began practicing.

“I set out to show a girl could do as well. So I practiced a lot,” she said, “They wouldn’t take girls in the army so I had to resort to all kinds of tricks to get in.”

Joining the army she soon earned her marksman certification but, because she was a female, no one took her seriously. She was very persistent in asking for a chance do finally her superiors gave her a chance. She was taken to the front and handed a rifle. She was told to try and hit two Romanians working downrange with the Germans. She did so easily.

She was then sent out to the Moldovan and Greek fronts where she had an incredible 187 confirmed German kills in her first 75 days in live combat. She was transferred to Sebastopol where she was pitted against German snipers where she managed to take out 36 of them. After a long 8 months in battle she was hit by shrapnel in the face and sent to a hospital to recover.

She was feared by the Nazis who would broadcast appeals to her to defect to their side. She returned to the Red Army as a sniper trainer. She was credited with 309 confirmed kills although her actual number may be higher since the 309 number reflects those kills witnessed by a third party. She was nicknamed “Lady Death”

The Soviet Union wished the US to enter the war and take the pressure off them. Pavlichenko visited with President Franklin Roosevelt, becoming the first Soviet citizen to be welcomed at the White House. She was only 25 and had been wounded 4 times.

The press asked her questions about what length skirt she wore into battle and her makeup. “There is no rule against it,” Pavlichenko said, “but who has time to think of her shiny nose when a battle is going on?”. One newspapers reported that she “wore no lip rouge, or makeup of any kind,” and that “there isn’t much style to her olive-green uniform.” Another reporter criticized the long length of her uniform skirt, implying that it made her look fat.

She would later say, “I wear my uniform with honor, it has the Order of Lenin on it. It has been covered with blood in battle. It is plain to see that with American women what is important is whether they wear silk underwear under their uniforms. What the uniform stands for, they have yet to learn.”

The Washington Post wrote, “Isn’t it a part of military philosophy that an efficient warrior takes pride in his appearance? Isn’t Joan of Arc always pictured in beautiful and shining armor?”

They did not take her, or woman in the military seriously although she was only one of the 500 snipers out of 2400 that had survived. The lady assassin stuck to her guns (no pun intended) and told America stories of her battles and the invasion of her country. She got her point across that women were both capable and necessary in battle.

She would tell a reporter, “Every German who remains alive will kill women, children and old folks,” she said.“Dead Germans are harmless. Therefore, if I kill a German, I am saving lives.”

She would tell American women, “Now I am looked upon a little as a curiosity,” she said, “a subject for newspaper headlines, for anecdotes. In the Soviet Union I am looked upon as a citizen, as a fighter, as a soldier for my country.”

Pavlichenko would continue her tour in the UK before returning to Kiev to continue her studies. During her tour of America, Pavlichenko and Eleanor Roosevelt became great friends. In 1957, during the cold war. Eleanor Roosevelt pressed her soviet watcher to allow her to visit Pavlichenko. She was eventually allowed to and found her living in a small, two room apartment in Moscow. Being watched they talked in generalities until Pavlichenko grabbed Eleanor by the arm and closed the bedroom door.

 She hugged Eleanor “half-laughing, half-crying, telling her how happy she was to see her.” They recounted stories of her visit and the many people she had met.

The stamps show recount her bravery and kill record as a sniper but Lyudmila Pavlichenko was a woman who fought for gender rights and equality as well.

So, without much further ado, a story about Edith Wharton. By 1905, Edith had already made a name for herself as an author. You may have read some of her books and poems although, in this day and age, it isn’t likely. Many of her works were made into films in the 1920’s and 1930’s. Probably the most notable modern adaptation would be “The Age of Innocence” released in 1993 directed by Martin Scorsese.

April 29, 1885, at age 23, Wharton married Edward (Teddy) Robbins Wharton, who was 12 years her senior. Teddy suffered from depression, so much so that Teddy and Edith pretty much ceased all activity and rarely left their home. Prior to her marriage Edith had traveled extensively. Edith fell into a deep depression herself. So what’s a girl to do?

Have an affair, of course. She hooked up with another writer named William Morton Fullerton who she believed was her soulmate. She feel madly in love. Then in 1908 Fullerton disappeared. Vanished. Ghosted her.

Between 1908 and 1913 spent most her time looking for him. She sent out hundreds of letters which were never answered.

She gave up on Fullerton and on the idea of love and moved to France where she wrote and spent her time gardening. She would become the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for “The Age of Innocence” in 1921 and three Nobel Prize nominations before her death in 1937.

Fullerton, it turns out, was alive. He wanted nothing to do with Edith and he did nothing with his life. He did, however, save her letters (over 400 of them) which were eventually published as a book named “Hell Hath No Fury: Women’s Letters From the End of the Affair.”

She described her feelings recounting a dream she had here:

She gave up on Fullerton and on the idea of love and moved to France where she wrote and spent her time gardening. She would become the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for “The Age of Innocence” in 1921 and three Nobel Prize nominations before her death in 1937.

Fullerton, it turns out, was alive. He wanted nothing to do with Edith and he did nothing with his life. He did, however, save her letters (over 400 of them) which were eventually published as a book named “Hell Hath No Fury: Women’s Letters From the End of the Affair.”

She described her feelings recounting a dream she had here:

A pale demon with black hair came in, followed by four black gnome-like creatures carrying a great black trunk. They set it down and opened it, and the Demon crying out, ‘Here’s your year—here are all the horrors that have happened to you, and that are still going to happen!” dragged out a succession of limp black squirming things and threw them on the floor before me…I knew what they were: the hideous, the incredible things that have happened to me in this dreadful year, or were to happen to me before its close; and I stared, horror-struck, as the Demon dragged them out, more and more, till finally, flinging down a blacker, hatefuller one, he said laughing, ‘There—that’s the last of them.’

“The gnomes laughed too; but I, as I stared at the great black pile and at the empty trunk, I said to the demon, ‘Are you sure it hasn’t a false bottom?’”

Eventually she gave up on Fullerton and on the idea of love and moved to France where she wrote and spent her time gardening. She would become the first woman to win a Pulitzer Prize for “The Age of Innocence” in 1921 and three Nobel Prize nominations before her death in 1937.

Fullerton, it turns out, was alive. He wanted nothing to do with Edith and he did nothing with his life. He did, however, save her letters (over 400 of them) which were eventually published as a book named “Hell Hath No Fury: Women’s Letters From the End of the Affair.”

One of her letters written in 1910″

Don’t think I am “fâchee,” as you said yesterday; but I am sad & bewildered beyond words, & with all my other cares & bewilderments, I can’t go on like this!

When I went away I thought I shd perhaps hear once from you. But you wrote me every day—you wrote me as you used to three years ago! And you provoked me to answer in the same way, because I could not see for what other purpose you were writing. I thought you wanted me to write what was in my heart!

Then I come back, & not a word, not a sign. You know that here it is impossible to exchange two words, & you come here, & come without even letting me know, so that it was a mere accident that I was at home. You go away, & I seem not to exist for you. I don’t understand.

If I could lean on some feeling in you—a good & loyal friendship, if there’s nothing else!— then I could go on, bear things, write, & arrange my life…

Now, ballottée [tossed] perpetually between one illusion & another by your strange confused conduct of the last six months, I can’t any longer find a point de repère [landmark]. I don’t know what you want, or what I am! You write to me like a lover, you treat me like a casual acquaintance!

Which are you—what am I?

Casual acquaintance, no; but a friend, yes. I’ve always told you I foresaw that solution, & accepted it in advance. But a certain consistence of affection is a fundamental part of friendship. One must know á quoi s’en tenir [what to hold on to]. And just as I think we have reached that stage, you revert abruptly to the other relation, & assume that I have noticed no change in you, & that I have not suffered or wondered at it, but have carried on my life in serene insensibility until you chose to enter again suddenly into it.

I have borne all these inconsistencies & incoherences as long as I could, because I love you so much, & because I am so sorry for things in your life that are difficult & wearing—but I have never been capricious or exacting, I have never, I think, added to those difficulties, but have tried to lighten them for you by a frank & faithful friendship. Only now a sense of my worth, & a sense also that I can bear no more, makes me write this to you. Write me no more such letters as you sent me in England.

It is a cruel & capricious amusement. —It was not necessary to hurt me thus! I understand something of life, I judged you long ago, & I accepted you as you are, admiring all your gifts & your great charm, & seeking only to give you the kind of affection that should help you most, & lay the least claim on you in return. But one cannot have all one’s passionate tenderness demanded one day, & ignored the next, without reason or explanation, as it has pleased you to do since your enigmatic change in December.
I have had a difficult year—but the pain within my pain, the last turn of the screw, has been the impossibility of knowing what you wanted of me, & what you felt for me—at a time when it seemed natural that, if you had any sincere feeling for me, you should see my need of an equable friendship—I don’t say love because that is not made to order!—but the kind of tried tenderness that old friends seek in each other in difficult moments of life. My life was better before I knew you. That is, for me, the sad conclusion of this sad year. And it is a bitter thing to say to the one being one has ever loved d’amour.

Did you know National Cheese day is June 4th? Everyone loves cheese in all its many forms. The more the better. Although we can’t pinpoint when cheese was first discovered it was, most likely, during the transport of fresh milk in the organs of animals such as sheep, goats, cows, and buffalo.

This stamp, featuring a cheese maker, is from, where else, Switzerland (1987). There are actually quite a few stamps featuring cheese but none that I could find from the US. Interestingly, maybe this is why.

Back in 1835 in Sandy Creek, New York, Colonel Thomas Standish Meacham had the idea to craft a super large cheese to gift to President Andrew Jackson.

Thomas hired carpenters to build a frame and lined it with cheese cloth. The curd made from the milk from his 150 cows was added daily and the whey squeezed out. At the end it weighed 1,400 pounds. He boxed it up, sealed it and got it ready to present to the President in Washington.

The cheese was placed on a large wagon pulled by 48 horses and loaded on a ship while a band played and cannons fired. When it reached the Capital it was presented to the President with much fanfare.

President Jackson wasn’t sure what to do with the unusual gift. Over the next few months he gifted large amounts of cheese to family, friends and members of his administration. He served it at dinner, had dinner parties centered around cheese and generally tried to get rid of as much as he could. Meanwhile, the cheese was stored in a back room of the executive mansion where the smell of it began to permeate the residence lingering in clothes and furnishings.

President Jackson, exasperated, had the cheese brought to the foyer of the White house and openly invited the public in to have their fill. Thousands of visitors came to have some.

“All you heard was cheese, all you saw was cheese, all you smelt was cheese,” recalled one witness. “The whole atmosphere for half a mile around was infected with cheese.”

At the end of the event there was cheese everywhere. It had been stepped on and ground into the carpet, cheese covered hands had turned doorknobs and been wiped on walls, drapes and furniture cushions. Luckily for Jackson, he was only in office for two more weeks so showed no interest in cleaning up the mess. He left that chore to his successor, Martin Van Buren.

“[Martin Van Buren] had a hard task to get rid of the smell of cheese,” wrote the wife of a Massachusetts senator, “and in the room where it was cut, he had to air the carpet for many days.” Subsequently Van Buren banned all food from all future White House receptions.

The government went on to regulate cheese even in the 2oth century. In the 1920’s the Department of Agriculture placed regulations on the percentage of pepper allowed in Monterey Hack cheese and even ruled if the word “smoked” should come before or after the word “Gouda”. In 1952 even the size of the holes in Swiss Cheese were restricted to “no more than half an inch wide” and limited the number of holes in any given piece to eight.

So next time, preferably on June 4th, you mount a new cheese stamp in your cheese topical collection just remember the 1,400 pound cheese that graced the US capitol and the smell that probably still lingers there today.

Shown here is the 2017 local stamp issue for Coquet Island, Northumberland. The 2017 issue is a very limited commemorative issue, overprinted on a 2016 issue, to mark the elimination of a rogue rat which had threatened the breeding season of the rare roseate tern colony.

No one knows exactly how Roland the Rat got to the remote island. Some believe he stowed away on the ship and escaped other believe he swum there. He was nicknamed Roland the Super Rat because he manages to survive in harsh conditions and because he is very large. Birds disappeared from an area of the island and eventually his lair was found. He, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Coquet Island is known for it’s population of Puffins and the Roseate terns and their breeding season was approaching. During breeding season visitors are not allowed to land on the island and crews are assigned to protect the breeding areas around the clock via CCTV Cameras and inspections.

After three months, the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds (RSPB) which manages Coquet Island searched for the rodent with no success. They set traps traps with baitssuch as pork pies, pâté, fish, Cadbury’s Dairy Milk chocolate, smelly cheese and even the musk of another male rat. At every turn, Roland the Super Rat avoided capture. Finally Great Britain decided to pit it’s impressive military might against the beast.

The Duke of Northumberland sent in two of his best dogs which were quickly deposited on the island. Surveying the island, the lead dog, Ben, used his superior olfactory senses to ferret out the furry monster. After a short but high speed chase Ben, a one-year-old Patterdale terrier who does not like to be called by his full name, Benjamin, put the vile creature out of his misery.

Such is the stuff of Legends. Songs will be sung, poems written and plays performed. The groundskeeper, a weathered man with a raspy voice who they call “Mr. Morrison” has worked on the island for 33 years has stated that no rat had been reported previously on the island in records going back to 1841.

He said: “We tried everything but the rat’s tastes were not what we were offering. “We needed to catch it because otherwise you could kiss the last roseate tern colony goodbye. One rat would just take all the eggs.”

Thus ends the tale of Roland the Super Rat and the stamp which bears his name. May he rest in peace and eat all the tern eggs he wants in rat heaven.

And, yes, while strictly not a postage stamp, more a Cinderella, I think it deserves a place here for having an interesting story behind it.

Two stamps I will probably never own!

The United States issued its first postage stamps on July 1, 1847. The stamps were designed by the artist John Vanderlyn and printed by the firm of Rawdon, Wright, Hatch, and Edson. The stamps were issued in two denominations: a five-cent stamp featuring a portrait of Benjamin Franklin, and a ten-cent stamp featuring a portrait of George Washington.

The stamps were printed in sheets of 200, with each stamp measuring about one inch by three-quarters of an inch. They were printed in black ink on bluish paper, with the words “U.S. Post Office” and the denomination printed in large letters.

The 5-cent stamp was intended for use on letters weighing less than one-half ounce that were sent over a distance of up to 300 miles. The 10-cent stamp was for letters weighing less than one-half ounce that were sent over a distance of more than 300 miles. These first stamps were used primarily for the transportation of letters and documents, which was a crucial means of communication and commerce in the mid-19th century.

The design of the stamps was simple and elegant, with the portraits of Franklin and Washington surrounded by decorative lettering and border. The stamps were an instant success, with people eager to use these new symbols of national identity and efficiency.

Over the years, the United States has issued many more stamps with a wide variety of designs and themes, from famous Americans and national landmarks to pop culture icons and historical events. But the first stamps remain an important milestone in the history of American postal service and a reminder of the power of a small piece of paper to connect people across vast distances.

I figured I would be amiss if I did not write a post about this, the worlds rarest stamp.

The world’s most expensive stamp is the British Guiana One-Cent Magenta. It was printed in 1856 in the British colony of Guiana, which is now the independent country of Guyana.

The stamp was created as a temporary solution when a shipment of official postage stamps failed to arrive from Great Britain. The local postmaster hastily commissioned a batch of one-cent stamps featuring a simple design of a sailing ship and the colony’s motto, “Damus Petimus Que Vicissim,” which means “we give and expect in return.”

Only one example of the British Guiana One-Cent Magenta is known to exist, making it incredibly rare and valuable. The stamp was rediscovered in 1873 by a young collector named L. Vernon Vaughan and it changed hands many times over the years, eventually being bought by wealthy collectors and investors.

In 2014, the stamp was sold at auction for a record-breaking price of $9.5 million, making it the most expensive stamp ever sold. The buyer was an anonymous bidder who was willing to pay an astronomical sum for this rare and historic stamp.

Today, the British Guiana One-Cent Magenta remains one of the most sought-after stamps in the world, with a value that far exceeds its humble origins as a makeshift stamp for a British colony. It is a testament to the enduring fascination and allure of postage stamps, and the passion that collectors have for these small but fascinating pieces of history.