Introduction: When hares kill people – what is behind it?

A knight in shining armour runs for his life – pursued by a hare with a sword and armour. This is no joke or fantasy, but real scenes from medieval manuscripts. What today seems like a Monty Python sketch with animal characters was part of a deep, multi-layered visual language in the Middle Ages – full of symbolism, satire, taboo-breaking and sometimes bitter humour.

Especially in the artistically designed illuminated manuscripts – often religious works, psalters or prayer books – so-called marginalia can be found in the margins of the text: small, sometimes grotesque drawings that at first glance have little to do with the content. But if you look more closely, you will recognise in these marginal figures a coded narrative about fear, power, morality – and about the subconscious of a society.

So why do hares, animals of fertility and gentleness, become symbols of violence?

What needs, fears or social conflicts are reflected in these animal depictions?

And to what extent do these miniature stories resemble today's internet memes, in which humour and social criticism also merge?

What this post is about:

• Why medieval book illumination is much more than decorative illustration

• What social and inner psychological tensions lie behind animal motifs

• How medieval symbols can be read as visual codes – similar to today's memes

• To what extent humour, violence, and symbolism together paint a picture of human inner life

• What symbolic role did hares play in the Middle Ages?

• Why do scenes with violent animals appear repeatedly in medieval manuscripts?

• How can these motifs be interpreted psychologically and socially?

• To what extent can such depictions be understood as early forms of memes?

What are the most common symbols in the Middle Ages?

Medieval art was more than mere decoration – it was a complex code of symbols in which every colour, every animal and every plant had a deeper meaning. Symbols served to illustrate religious content, moral instruction, or even warnings and satire. This is particularly impressive in illuminated manuscripts: elaborately designed books, often produced in monasteries, whose so-called marginalia – the illustrated margins – contain a multitude of symbols that reveal more about the mindset of their time than many texts.

Some of these symbols recur repeatedly:

Why do animals play such a central role in medieval symbolism?

Animals – or, instead, animals as a mirror of humanity – had a far-reaching symbolic function in the Middle Ages. Whether as vices, virtues or spiritual allegories, animals structured a world that was strongly coded by religion.

In a medieval worldview, everything was arranged in a divinely legitimised hierarchy. Animals helped to capture this thinking in images: the lion stood for Christ, the lamb for purity, the donkey for humility. At the same time, animals were used to evaluate human behaviour morally – often mockingly or ironically.

Animals appear everywhere in medieval art: in architecture, on tapestries and especially in books, for example as miniatures or marginalia. There, they were allowed to contradict, reverse and irritate – and in doing so, they revealed hidden truths.

The dog in the Middle Ages: faithful companion or warning?

In the Middle Ages, the dog was primarily regarded as a symbol of loyalty. In pilgrim stories, it accompanied its masters on their travels, and in legends of saints, it appeared as a guardian spirit. However, its role was not entirely positive: in a moral context, the dog could also represent desire, greed or lack of self-control.

In hand-cut illustrations, dogs appear both as guardians – for example, at graves – and as sacrificial figures: in the context of rabbit marginalia, they sometimes end up in the cooking pot. The symbolism, therefore, varies wildly, depending on whether the dog appears in a religious or satirical context, such as in a myth.

What role does the tree play in medieval art and literature?

The tree is a central image in medieval art and literature. As the ‘tree of life’, ‘tree of knowledge’ from medieval mythology or ‘family tree of Jesus’, it linked cosmic, theological and genealogical ideas.

It was a symbol of life, knowledge and, at the same time, sin. In many psalters or prayer books, it was linked to biblical scenes – often in the background, but always meaningful.

Particularly fascinating: the tree marked transitions – between heaven and earth, between beginning and end, between death and rebirth. Its forms appeared in initials, images or even as the structure for entire chapters.

Flowers and their meaning in medieval manuscripts

The flower was not simply a decorative element – it was the bearer of multi-layered symbolic meaning. The lily stood for purity, the rose for love and martyrdom, the daisy for humility.

In illuminated manuscripts, flowers served as visual markers: they framed texts, accompanied prayers and reinforced their effect. They were often references to the liturgical year or to specific saints.

In monastic contexts in particular, flowers took on a meditative function: they helped to focus the gaze, and at the same time directed it to a hidden level of textual understanding.

Why travel and pilgrims appear so often as motifs – and what they mean

The pilgrim was a familiar image in the Middle Ages – both literally and symbolically. His journey stood for spiritual quest, purification and devotion. In pictorial representations, he often carries a staff, a shell and a cloak – signs of his determination.

In marginalia, however, pilgrim figures also appear ironic or broken: drunk, upside down on a horse or in a fight with a dog, for example. Here, too, the double coding is evident: pilgrimage as an ideal and as a human failure.

The pilgrim thus becomes a projection screen for the inner journeys of the medieval soul – between faith, doubt, hope and downfall.

Of snails and knights: what does this bizarre image tell us?

One of the most enigmatic motifs in medieval book art is the snail, which an armed knight confronts. This image appears in countless variations – and has long occupied researchers.

One theory is that the snail symbolises the uncanny, the slow but unstoppable. It stands for the strange, the inexplicable – a kind of ‘monster of order’.

Others see it as a humorous commentary on the knightly class: the proud warrior becomes a fool who attacks a harmless creature with his sword drawn. The violent reaction is disproportionate to the threat – an image of ridicule.

The hare as a symbol: coward, fertility or rebel?

Hardly any other animal was portrayed as contradictorily in the Middle Ages as the hare. Its portrayal ranged from a symbol of fertility to a figure of ridicule, from a religious emblem to a grotesque caricature, creating a remarkable tension. This ambiguity made it a particularly popular motif in illustrated book painting, especially in the marginalia of psalters, prayer books and medical manuscripts.

On the one hand, the hare was considered a symbol of fertility, which plays a role in many medieval myths. – not only because of its proverbial reproductive vigour, but also because of its connection to spring and the return of life. In Christian contexts, it was sometimes associated with purity and chastity, especially in connection with the Virgin Mary. In depictions of the Annunciation or the birth of Christ, a white hare sometimes appears in the background – a reference to innocence, but also to new life through Christ.

At the same time, the hare embodied the exact opposite: timidity, retreat, even moral weakness. In texts such as the ‘Roman de Renart’, the hare represents the archetypal coward who runs away at the slightest threat. This attribution is also found in proverbs and popular sayings (‘rabbit's foot’). It is the epitome of cowardice. In medieval literature, such as in the ‘Roman de Renart’, the hare becomes an object of ridicule.

It was precisely this ambivalence that made the hare a popular symbol in medieval iconography – a placeholder for uncertainty, instinct and reversal.

Between symbol and satire: the hare in the margins

But then, the hare suddenly appears in the upside-down world of the book margins as an armed fighter: it hunts knights, ties up dogs, and turns the world order upside down. This motif of violent hares is no coincidence, but an ironic commentary on the social role models of the time. In such satirical contexts, the hare became a projection screen for human weaknesses – a placeholder for cowardice, lust or instinctive behaviour. Especially in ecclesiastical circles, it sometimes served as a warning symbol for the danger of straying from ‘higher reason’ and following ‘animal nature’.

In the marginalia of medieval manuscripts, this dual symbolic value culminates dramatically. Here, the hare does not appear as a gentle creature, but as a perpetrator:

• with a knife,

• with a club,

• with a crossbow.

It attacks knights, executes dogs or beats up hunters – a veritable reversal of social power relations. The symbolic hunted becomes the hunter, the weak strikes back. This is grotesque, humorous and deeply subversive.

This depiction gives the hare a new dimension: it becomes an agent of symbolic revenge, the bearer of repressed impulses, the embodiment of the ‘forbidden’ that finds its place in the image, where the text does not dare to say it.

In medieval symbolism, the hare is a figure between light and shadow, between holiness and instinct, between fear and violence. Its depiction impressively shows how strongly cultural interpretation, religious coding and psychological projection intertwine – a mirror of medieval worldviews that still fascinates us today.

The upside-down world: how humour and social criticism found their way into the margins

The upside-down world was a central motif of medieval visual culture. Everything was turned upside down: animals ruled over humans, women beat men, peasants preached to monks, and hares chased dogs.

Such scenes were more than just funny: they offered social commentary, often with subversive power. In a hierarchical society, they created brief moments of freedom – especially in the art form of marginalia.

The ‘upside-down world’ was never just nonsense. It was both a mirror and an outlet for desires, fears and criticism of an order that was perceived as rigid.

Marginalia as early medieval memes?

What we know today as memes – recognisable images with ironic twists and commentary – also existed in a particular form in the Middle Ages. The so-called marginalia functioned similarly:

• they repeated specific motifs,

• made references,

• and used clear visual language.

A rabbit with an axe, which appears repeatedly, was something of a running gag – and a socio-psychological cypher. In an illiterate culture, such pictorial symbols had enormous communicative power.

Today, we encounter similar patterns in digital memes: context-dependent, ambivalent, viral, and deeply human.

The symbolism of illumination in manuscripts

Illuminated manuscripts of the Middle Ages were much more than mere repositories of knowledge or collections of prayers – they also served as a stage for visual humour, satire and symbolic inversion. Especially in the marginalia – the illustrated margins of books – small scenes emerged that played with the norms of medieval society. These miniature images acted as commentaries on the order of the world – and sometimes as deliberate disruptions of it.

One particularly striking example is the aforementioned armed hare turning against its pursuers.

• The knight, symbol of bravery and power, is put to flight by a hare.

• The monk, representative of the spiritual order, is slapped in the face by the rabbit.

• The dog, traditionally a symbol of loyalty, is roasted over the fire by rabbits.

These scenes follow the principle of the upside-down world – a popular form of medieval humour in which social roles are reversed: the servant becomes the master, the animal becomes human, the weak become overpowering.

The function of this reversal: criticism through comedy

The depiction of the hunter as the hunted was more than just a joke – it could also be understood as a subtle commentary on the distribution of power. As the animal fights back, a moment of symbolic revenge arises:

• against the culture of chivalry,

• against the ruling classes,

• against the moral superiority of religious authorities.

These reversals allowed writers and artists to express criticism – without being explicit. The violence remains grotesque, absurd, almost silly – and precisely because of this, harmless enough to be allowed to exist.

The pleasure of reversal

From a psychological point of view, these scenes can also be interpreted as an expression of repressed desires:

• aggression against authority,

• dissatisfaction with social roles,

• the willingness to break taboos.

The visual reversal in the marginalia thus becomes a place of psychological relief: what could not be said in the text was allowed to appear in the image – small, comical, but meaningful.

The hare, otherwise a victim figure, becomes the tool of this reversal: a plaything between projection, humour and social analysis.

Symbolism in medieval manuscripts was a means of dialogue – between text and image, order and chaos, power and powerlessness. The marginalia in particular reveal how subversive and psychologically charged medieval book art could be.

To what extent can medieval art be considered early memes?

At first glance, medieval marginalia seem like pure whimsicalities – artistic frills that have little to do with the main text. But if you take a closer look, you realise that these little scenes work according to principles that are very reminiscent of what we now call memes.

Some parallels are striking:

• Recognisable character

  • The hare appears in numerous variations – armed, triumphant, provocative. Its constant recurrence as a motif creates identification and expectation. Just as today's memes are characterised by figures such as the ‘Distracted Boyfriend’ or ‘Grumpy Cat’, medieval artists also repeat their visual protagonists.

• Upside-down world

  • The reversal of power relations – the knight becomes the victim, the animal becomes the perpetrator – is a central feature of medieval visual jokes. This reversal generates humour, irritation and food for thought, much like satirical memes that twist or subvert social norms.

• Surprise & breaking taboos

  • Violence in a sacred book? A rabbit slapping a monk in the face? Such scenes break expectations and deliberately use provocation – a classic meme characteristic. Crossing boundaries attracts attention and remains in the memory.

Memes as a mirror of psychological and social dynamics – then and now

Both medieval picture jokes and digital memes channel collective feelings:

• Anger

• Powerlessness

• Mockery

• Longing for change or justice

In both cases, it is a low-threshold, visual form of criticism that is quickly recognised – even without a long explanation. The repetition of motifs strengthens the recognition value, while the punchline provides the emotional release.

Medieval marginalia were therefore not merely ‘crazy’ – they were images with a function: they entertained, relieved, admonished or undermined the existing order, just like today's memes, which oscillate between fun and social analysis.

Marginalia as a media strategy avant la lettre

Anyone who laughs today at a ‘rabbit meme’ that turns the world order upside down is part of an iconographic tradition that is much older than the internet. Medieval art already used similar mechanisms of repetition, variation and taboo shifting as modern visual culture. The marginalia thus show not only what moved people at that time, but also how much the structure of our thinking has been preserved in images.

🎭 How is humour used in medieval symbolism?

Humour was not a marginal phenomenon in the Middle Ages – it was an integral part of cultural forms of expression, especially in religious art. The marginalia of illuminated manuscripts in particular show how humour was deliberately used to undermine, lighten or subversively reinterpret visual language.

The humour of this period was:

• Crude: Physical, direct, sometimes coarse – without shying away from obscenity or silliness.

• Visual: It worked through images, not linguistic punchlines – i.e. directly, intuitively.

• Physical: People and animals were depicted in grotesque or absurd movements – e.g. dancing monks, headless knights, or even fighting hares.

• Symbolically reversed: The joke often lay in the reversal of religious, social or natural orders.

Symbolic taboo-breaking with a wink

A hare beating a knight is not only a comical scene – it is also a psychologically charged image:

• The weak triumph over the strong.

• The instinctive defeats the rational.

• The order is shaken – but only seemingly.

Monks and clerics in particular, who were involved in the creation of such manuscripts, used humour as an outlet:

• for self-irony,

• for criticism of ecclesiastical abuses,

• to lighten up the often very disciplined monastic daily routine.

This form of ‘licensed laughter’ was reminiscent of the role of the jester: he was allowed to say what others were forbidden to say – but only under the guise of ridicule.

Humour as psychological relief

According to Freud, jokes serve to relieve inner tensions – especially when they present forbidden content in a harmless package. This is precisely what happens in the marginalia:

• Violence, sexuality or criticism of power appear trivialised because animals are involved or the context is grotesque.

• Humour protects against sanctions – and at the same time allows for symbolic processing of social or psychological conflicts.

Humour in medieval symbolism was never just a joke. It was a tool of interpretation, a social outlet, a space for projecting the unspeakable – and at the same time a means of playfully shifting the boundaries of what could be said.

Psychoanalytic interpretation: projection and the unconscious in book illumination

The marginalia of medieval manuscripts are not only fascinating from an art-historical perspective – they can also be interpreted as symbolic expressions of inner psychological dynamics. The armed, violent hare in particular lends itself to psychoanalytical interpretation: a bearer of repressed emotions that is visually expressed in a seemingly harmless context.

In a monastic culture in which renunciation of instincts, purity, control and asceticism were elevated to ideals, the margins of books created an imaginary free space in which the culturally unacceptable was allowed to appear – not directly, but disguised, distorted and encrypted.

Three central psychoanalytical mechanisms can be identified:

• Projection:

  • Aggressive or sexual impulses that are not allowed to enter one's own ego are transferred to animals – especially to the hare, whose symbolic value oscillates between innocence and instinctual dynamics anyway. Thus, for example, an inner fantasy of violence becomes a comic hero with an axe.

• The return of the repressed:

  • According to Freud, the repressed always returns – and does so where it does not belong. In manuscript culture, it appears not in the main text, but in the margins: grotesque, animalistic, comical. The ‘psychic exterior’ of the book page corresponds to the margins of consciousness.

• Humour as relief:

  • In ‘Jokes and Their Relation to the Unconscious,’ Freud describes how jokes defuse inner conflicts by releasing forbidden content in a playful form. The violent rabbit fulfils precisely this function: it transforms assault, taboo-breaking or criticism into absurd comedy – while remaining symbolically ambiguous.

The hare as a psychological borderline phenomenon

From this perspective, the hare becomes a projection screen for unconscious tensions:

• between instinct and morality,

• between desire and control,

• between wish and prohibition.

Its sudden appearance in absurd scenes is no coincidence, but rather an expression of those inner contradictions that could hardly be openly addressed in the structure of medieval reality. The hare thus carries a double meaning:

It is an icon of cultural consciousness – and at the same time an agent of the psychological unconscious.

In psychoanalytic interpretation, marginalia appear as visual manifestations of the repressed. The violent hare is more than just a gag: it is a symbolic compromise between what was thought and what could not be said – a laughing shadow of archaic longings, captured in ink on the margin of a prayer book.

What can we learn from medieval symbolism for the present day?

At first glance, medieval symbolism seems like a relic of a long-gone way of thinking: cryptic, religiously charged, often tricky to decipher. But if you take a closer look, you'll see that the central themes of medieval imagery are surprisingly relevant today.

In an age in which our communication is increasingly visual, coded and emotional – through emojis, memes and viral images – it becomes clear that we continue to think in symbols.

Four key parallels with the present day:

• Fear of losing control:

  • The hare, which disrupts the order, embodies an ancient human fear – that the weak will suddenly become overpowering, that systems will collapse. Even today, moments of crisis show how strongly the fear of losing control shapes us – politically, psychologically and socially.

• Reversal of power relations:

  • The upside-down world as a visual motif – omnipresent today in satire, comedy and protest culture. When young people parody politicians or algorithms shape discourse, we experience modern variants of medieval reversal.

• Humour as a protective function:

  • The rabbit with a sword makes fear bearable. Even today, we use irony and comedy to cope with uncertainties – whether in memes about burnout or TikToks about social inequality. Laughter as psychological relief remains relevant.

• Symbols as access to the unconscious:

  • Images have a faster effect than language – they touch preconscious layers, trigger emotions and structure perception. As in the Middle Ages, symbols today are psychodynamic media that reflect individual and collective themes.

The Middle Ages live on – in our images, fears and jokes

The study of medieval symbolism is not merely a historical interest. It shows that

what moves people is transformed into symbols – then as now.

The hares with swords that frighten the monks tell us not only something about the Middle Ages, but also about our present:

About power and powerlessness.

About the comical and the cruel.

About playing with order – and the longing to break it.

Conclusion: Violence, humour and symbolism – a mirror of the human psyche

The violent hares in medieval illuminated manuscripts are much more than just quirky supporting characters on the margins of sacred texts. They embody a profound connection between symbolism, humour, instinctual processing and social commentary – an interplay that expresses in visual form what could not be said in the text.

These marginal figures are not trivial. They are visual reflections of the tensions that play out between power and powerlessness, order and instinct, spirituality and physicality, as described in a centuries-old book. They reveal the Middle Ages not as a rigid world of dogma, but as a living cultural organism with an astonishing psychological self-reflection.

It is precisely in the combination of violence and comedy, of sacred context and profane transgression, that there is a psychodynamic tension that continues to fascinate us today. The medieval hare with a sword is thus a symbol of what also defines today's visual culture:

The ability to translate psychological content into symbolic forms – tangible, contradictory, comical and serious at the same time.

Key findings at a glance

• In the Middle Ages, animals served as moral and theological projections.

• The hare was a symbol of fertility – and at the same time of mockery and repentance.

• The tree, the flower and the dog had multiple interpretations – ranging from sacredness to everyday life.

• Pilgrims, knights and snails represent the human quest in both heroic and broken forms.

• Marginalia were more than just decoration: they were satirical, social and subversive.

• Many motifs are reminiscent of modern memes in function and effect.

• Humour served as protection, relief and a critical tool.

• The visual language of the Middle Ages was multi-layered – and remains psychologically relevant to this day.