Oh, don't get me wrong, I am VERY happy I live in an era where my need for glasses doesn't make me half-blind, my need for asthma medication doesn't make me a pauper, and my allergies and sensitivity to illness as a child didn't result in my painful death. (I survived a case of strep throat that became scarlet fever. Had I lived 200 years earlier,
it would have killed me.)
Re: Dyes, while the full extent of cloth-dye stuff that we have today is certainly way bigger than what they had back then, there were still plenty of natural dyes. They were just harder to use, and the best were almost always more expensive. But you'd have celebration days (e.g. May Day) that would get plenty of colorful flags and streamers and such. The idea that middle-ages life was uniformly drab and colorless is just as much an invention as the romanticization from the 19th century.
Or, as Blue of Overly Sarcastic Productions put it, "The 'Dark Ages' is a myth perpetuated by Big Renaissance to sell you more paintings." Obviously this is an intentionally comedic Hot Take summary, but
the rest of the video is a comprehensive look at how our "Dung Ages"/"Dork Ages" view of medieval history is WOEFULLY inadequate and
heavily incorrect. The Medieval Period had LOTS of things that sucked--and many of them sucked a LOT. But so did the Roman era that preceded it and the Renaissance that followed it.
After all, burning people at the stake for being a witch? Yeah, that's a Renaissance thing. Catholic doctrine was, and still is, that witches didn't exist, so it was heresy to accuse anyone of witchcraft. It was only after the Renaissance, and the publication of things like the
Malleus Maleficarum...which the Catholic Church
expressly rejected as heretical...that you started seeing the witch-burning craze. And most of that was at the order of civil authorities--since, again, accusing people of witchcraft was officially heretical, to the point that the bloody Inquisition itself opposed the
Malleus.
I agree you are totally correct, for colors, they did have bright colors, though often without good ways to fix the dyes, so used for special occasions. Their whites too, likely a grayish color, as they didn't use bleach, or detergents such as we have. Burning people was heinous, I read 6,000 at some cities, as young as infants.
I have read articles by historians in favor of keeping the term "The Dark Age" as it represents a epochal break between late antiquity, and the early middle ages. The term lifted from chroniclers of the time, describing an actual event:
Volcanic winter of 536 - Wikipedia which adding in the Plague of Justinian, and Gothic Wars is somewhat accurate, it would have seemed a dark age.
While one can fault the 19th century romanicists for being wrong, they did it in great style:
La Belle Dame sans Merci: A Ballad
By John Keats
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.
I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.
I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful—a faery’s child,
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.
I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan
I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.
She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
‘I love thee true’.
She took me to her Elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild wild eyes
With kisses four.
And there she lullèd me asleep,
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
Thee hath in thrall!’
I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.
And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.
Empress Theodora by Jean-Joseph Benjamin Constant, 1887, via Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes, Buenos Aires