I should say "of lice," since if your hair was home to one, it was home to many. Also, there are over 5000 species of louse, 800 of which prey on mammals. Humans experience just a few. (The others? 4000 species prey on birds; even penguins in the Antarctic have at least 15 species.)
The scientific details on lice don't interest us, however, as much as how the Middle Ages dealt with them, because they were ubiquitous. After Thomas Becket's death, when they went to prepare the body, they discovered he wore a hair shirt under his clothing. It was so infested with lice that “The vermin boiled over like water in a simmering cauldron, and the onlookers burst into alternate weeping and laughing” [Rats, Lice and History, Hans Zinsser Page 185].
Combing the hair was a common way to get rid of lice. It was also considered a contemplative act, and recommended to put oneself into the right mood for devotion. The 13th century French liturgist William Durand in his Rationale divinorum officiorum ("Rationale for the Divine Offices"), said combing "symbolized the removal of worldly or superfluous thoughts." When the tomb of St. Cuthbert was opened in 1104, it contained a comb; was it more for contemplation or hygiene?
Lice had to be dealt with in every walk of life, including among the religious set. The late 14th century canon regular (a priest in a church, not a monk) John Mirk in his Instructions for Parish Priests said that if a louse or lice entered the chalice, they needed to be consumed with the wine (unless it was a poisonous insect).
Besides the comb, there was other methods for dealing with head lice. A concoction of pork grease, incense, lead, and aloe was supposed to stop them (probably by asphyxiation). The simplest method, available to everyone, was having someone look through your hair and remove them by hand. Montaillou by French historian Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie reconstructs (from contemporary records) the lives of villagers from 1294 to 1324. One recollection that he finds is of a woman named Vuissane Testanière, who observed her neighbors chatting while their daughters picked through their hair, looking for lice.
In fact, the story of the village of Montaillou would be a refreshing change from talking about lice, so let's use that last paragraph as a transition to tomorrow. See you then.
