Throughout history, societies have devised countless methods to enforce obedience, punish dissent, and instill fear. Among the most chilling of these devices is the medieval iron collar, sometimes referred to as the “collar of shame” or “collar of torture.” The artifact shown in the accompanying image, dating largely from the Middle Ages (circa 15th–17th centuries CE), represents more than just a piece of metalwork—it is a physical manifestation of how power, cruelty, and humiliation were interwoven in systems of justice across Europe.

The iron collar was a heavy, rigid band constructed from forged steel or iron, designed to clamp тιԍнтly around the neck of its victim. Its base was often wide and circular, with upright iron arms rising to a locking clasp or hinge. The simplicity of the design belied its brutality: once fixed around a prisoner’s throat, it restricted mobility, caused continuous pain, and served as both a restraint and a public marker of disgrace. Unlike execution tools, which delivered a quick (if not merciful) end, the collar was intended to prolong suffering, to make humiliation visible, and to render the wearer an object lesson for others.

The origins of this device can be traced to medieval Europe, especially in regions of France, Germany, Spain, and Italy. Judicial records from the 15th century describe the collar being used on individuals accused of theft, heresy, disobedience, or rebellion. At times, it was attached to a wall, post, or chain, turning the prisoner into a stationary exhibit. In other cases, the collar itself had protruding spikes or sharp edges that cut into the skin, ensuring that even the slightest movement resulted in excruciating pain. For all its simplicity, the collar demonstrated the ingenuity of cruelty in the service of authority.

One of the most notorious variations of the device was known as the “shame collar.” Rather than being purely an instrument of torture, it was often applied to criminals or social outcasts as a form of punishment meant to degrade. In many European towns during the 16th century, offenders were paraded through the streets wearing these collars, their heads bowed by the weight of iron, their dignity stripped by public scorn. Sometimes inscriptions were added to the collar, labeling the crime: “thief,” “blasphemer,” “liar,” or “heretic.” The wearer became a living billboard of guilt. Such punishments aligned with the medieval emphasis on public justice, where humiliation was seen as an essential part of retribution.

While the shame collar was common in municipal justice, darker versions appeared in dungeons and torture chambers. Here, the device could be employed to extract confessions. A victim might be forced to wear a collar so тιԍнт that breathing became labored. Combined with beatings or other methods, the pressure on the neck created an atmosphere of terror that frequently broke a prisoner’s resolve. Inquisition records from the late 15th century, particularly in Spain, note collars being used alongside other infamous tools such as the rack or the strappado. In these grim settings, the iron collar blurred the line between punishment and torture.

The psychological impact of the device was as profound as the physical. To be bound by the neck—an area universally recognized as vulnerable—stripped individuals of their autonomy and reduced them to a state of animal-like submission. Contemporary accounts describe the despair of prisoners who, unable to rest their heads or move freely, endured days or even weeks of agony. The collar became not merely a tool of control but a symbol of complete domination. It announced to the victim and to all who watched that the body and spirit alike were subject to authority.

It is important to situate the iron collar within the broader history of medieval punishments. This was a world where justice was theatrical, where the scaffold, the pillory, and the whipping post were stages upon which society reaffirmed its moral codes. In the absence of modern prisons, penalties had to be immediate and visible. Devices like the collar thus played a dual role: they inflicted suffering while reinforcing the power of law through public example. Justice was not only about redressing wrongs but about terrifying others into compliance.

The decline of such devices began in the 18th century, as Enlightenment thinkers and reformers challenged the barbarity of traditional punishments. Philosophers such as Cesare Beccaria argued against cruelty in his seminal 1764 treatise On Crimes and Punishments. By the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the rise of penitentiaries signaled a shift toward incarceration and rehabilitation rather than public torture. The iron collar, like the breaking wheel and the iron maiden, gradually disappeared from legal use, its presence surviving only in museums and historical records.

Yet the legacy of the collar remains powerful. Museums across Europe preserve examples of these devices, often displayed alongside etchings and manuscripts that document their use. The image above, which juxtaposes the artifact with a contemporary engraving, allows us to glimpse both the object and the cruel reality it inflicted. The cold, unyielding iron reminds us of the weight borne by its victims, while the drawing conveys the spectacle of punishment in a world that normalized suffering as part of order.

Today, the iron collar of shame serves as a sobering reminder of the darker chapters of human history. It embodies questions that still resonate: How far will societies go to enforce conformity? When does punishment become cruelty? And what does it say about power when it requires humiliation to maintain itself? These questions are not confined to the medieval past. They echo in ongoing debates about justice, human rights, and the treatment of prisoners worldwide.

To study the iron collar is to confront a paradox: an artifact of undeniable craftsmanship, forged by skilled blacksmiths, yet devoted entirely to degradation. Its iron curves, hammered and riveted with precision, testify to human creativity—but creativity twisted toward torment. This paradox challenges us to reflect on how innovation can be directed toward harm as well as progress.

In conclusion, the medieval iron collar stands as one of the starkest symbols of oppression and public humiliation in European history. Dating back to the 15th century and used well into the 17th century, it represents the cruelty of an age where justice was spectacle and pain was pedagogy. While the device itself has been retired to the silence of museums, the memory it carries is alive: a warning of how fear and shame can be weaponized in the name of order. To look upon it today is to remember both the suffering of the past and the enduring responsibility to ensure that justice never again takes such a form.

A Farmer’s Misplaced Hammer Led to the Largest Roman Treasure in Britain

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November 16, 1992 was the day which changed Suffolk-resident Eric Lawes’ life in a huge way. What he thought would have been an innocent search for a hammer he had misplaced on his farm in Hoxne Village, Suffolk, England ended up bringing him much more than he had bargained for — namely, uncovering the hiding spot of a long-hidden treasure. Based on the Guardian’s coverage of the story, Eric Lawes had been previously gifted a metal detector upon his retirement as a parting token. He decided to put his retirement gift to good use in order to locate the hammer which he had had some trouble finding. According to a 2018 Smithsonian Magazine article, when the device started recording that there was a strong signal coming from the earth, he knew that he was about to discover something big. As he started digging, it soon became clear to him that he had unearthed a treasure trove.

The Guardian reports that, when Lawes saw that his preliminary digging had yielded a few gold coins and silver spoons, he immediately contacted both the local archaeological society and the police department. Archaeologists came to the property the following day and had the area of earth holding the treasure carefully sectioned-off and removed. Their hope was that at a later stage, in their laboratory, they could examined the items in order to identify both their age and how they were stored.

When all was said and done, close to 60 pounds of items made from silver and gold were found on the site. These included more than 15,000 Roman coins, 200 gold objects, and several silver spoons. For archaeologists, this find — which later became labeled as the Hoxne Hoard — was an incredible discovery. AP News reported that archaeologist Judith Plouviez was over-the-moon about the discovery, saying that it was “an incredibly exciting and amazing find.” What’s more, another archaeologist, Rachel Wilkinson, told Smithsonian Magazine that this discovery was “the largest and latest ever found in Britain.”

Ordinarily, archaeologists would use radiocarbon dating as a means of identifying the age of ancient relics. However, they couldn’t locate any suitable material from the haul. Consequently, they determined the age by examining writing on the coins, as well as the ruler carved into them, estimating that the treasure was probably buried in either 408 or 409 AD.

Roman-era archaeologist Peter Guest told Smithsonian Magazine that “if you look at them a little more carefully, then they should be dated to the period after the separation of Britain from the Roman Empire.” He offers as part of his evidence the fact that almost all of the coins found in the Hoxne Hoard were clipped – in other words, small chunks of their edges had been taken off. These clippings would have been used to create coins which were similar to the Roman coins of that era.

Guest has a logical reason for this, arguing that “The Roman Empire wasn’t supplying Britain with new gold and silver coins, and in light of that, the population tried to get over this sudden cutoff in the supply of their precious metals by making the existing supplies go further.”

Archaeologists also believe that the treasure belonged to a Romano-British family. During that time, considering that there was so much societal discord and upheaval, it was common for Romans who had settled in Britain to bury their most prized possessions.

That said, one archaeologist is of the belief that the hoard had a lot of sentimental value for the Romano-British family to whom it is believed to have belonged. In her book The Hoxne Late Roman Treasure: Gold Jewellery and Silver Plate, Catherine Johns claims that the manner in which the treasure was kept supported this claim. Some of the items which were recovered had been packaged in small, wooden boxes which were lined with leather. What’s more, pieces of wood, locks, and nails, among other things, surrounded the gold and silver pieces. This leads Catherine to assert that the package was carefully buried and not simply chucked away in a rush.

Interestingly enough, the items unearthed might shed some light on the identity of the family who owned them. They cite a gold bracelet bearing the inscription “UTERE FELIX DOMINA IULIANE,” which roughly translates to “use this happily Lady Juliane”. A second name “Aurelius Ursicinus” has also been discovered. This has consequently led some to believe that Juliane and Aurelius were the couple and the original owners of the treasure. That said, that has yet to be confirmed.

All in all, the discovery was a real treasure for archaeologists, and by extension, for Lawes. According to Smithsonian Magazine, in recognition of his discovery and willingness to contact authorities, the British government rewarded him with over £1.7 million, an amount which he shared with the farmer whose land was dug out in order to get the treasure. Funnily enough, apart from the treasure, Lawes also found his lost hammer — which now resides in the British Museum.