Werewolves, Church Reform and Colonial Attitudes in The Topography of Ireland by Gerald of Wales

The Topographia Hibernica or Topography of Ireland (1188) by Gerald of Wales provides an insight into the colonial language used during the Anglo-Norman conquest of Ireland. Much of of the Topographia employs some of the standard tropes of legitimising a colonial enterprise. Scholars such as Karkov have previously described the text in terms of it portraying the Irish and Ireland as wild and exotic as a deliberate means of providing a moral and religious justification for the conquest. While this is true, it also obscures a more particular issue that Gerald is concerned with while writing the text. The Irish Church and his desire to see reform within it, making sense in the context of the wider reform movement going on in Europe at the time. The Topograhia is therefore not only a colonial text, but a colonial text written with the purpose of criticising and encouraging reform in the Irish Church.

Gerald of Wales was born at Manorbier in Pembrokeshire and therefore was from Marcher land. He was of Cambro-Norman descent, being related to Gerald of Windsor who had married Nesta, a daughter of Rhys ap Tudor, a prince of South Wales. This is important for understanding Gerald's account of Ireland, as it means he himself was of mixed descent and had actively participated in a society which had experienced close- sometimes forceful- contact between the Welsh and English. He therefore had first hand experience of how expansion, colonial in nature, affected society in the Marches. After finishing studying in Paris, Gerald began to use his talents for the benefit of the Church. He was appointed by Richard, Archbishop of Canterbury, to collect special dues in the  diocese of St David's. In November 1183 he resigned as diocesan vicar, following which he payed his first visit to Ireland. Here for a year he spent a portion of his time collecting material for the writing of his books. Gerald was sent as part of Prince John's court who had been sent by Henry II of England to invade Ireland. Being appointed Bishop of Ferns or Leighlin, he stayed four months after the invasion. Gerald was therefore heavily involved in the pastoral and ecclesiastical parts of his role in the Church. We can perhaps see that there was curiosity about Ireland in England, by how much his book was received back in England. Gerald spent three days reading the Topographia to select audiences at Oxford, it was claimed that Baldwin, the Archbishop of Canterbury read a section of the book each day during his tour of Wales in 1183.

The History of the Topographia 

However, in any attempt of Gerald to portray Ireland as alien and uncivilised he encountered a significant problem. Ireland and Britain had a significant history of contact between each other. Most importantly they fitted into the wider Christian community, making it more difficult for Gerald to demonise the Irish. A number of scholars have tried to place the Anglo-Norman conquest of Ireland as part of wider phenomena of European expansion in the period. For example, Angrett Simms has noticed similarities to Gerald in other commentators of the period. Most notably in Adam of Bremen, who wrote an account of the Scandinavians in the 1070s and Helmold of Bosau whose chronicle of the Slavs was written in the 1170s. However, many of these areas were still heavily pagan, and had not experienced the same level of contact, especially in the form of missionaries, that Ireland had previously had with the continent. As late as the 10th and 11th centuries new Irish communities were being founded in Europe, including at Waulsort in the Ardennes by St Cadroe of Armagh and in 946 and the establishment of another at Metz in the 970s.

Gerald therefore has a task in the Topographia to uncouple Ireland from its long Christian tradition. At times he is critical, but not always completely ruthless, in his criticism of the Irish Church. In the Table of Matters of the Topographia Gerald states that the Irish clergy are 'in many points praiseworthy' but 'the prelates should be reproved from their neglect of their pastoral office'. A similar message comes across in the third part of the text, during which Gerald quite heavily focuses on the faults he believes the Irish Church has:

'If the prelates from the time of Patrick through all those years had done a man's job, as they should have done, in preaching and instructing, chastising and correcting, they would have extirpated at any rate to a certain extent those abominations of the people already mentioned, and would have impressed upon them some semblance of honour and religious feeling. But there was no one among them to raise his voice as a trumpet. There was none to fight on the other side, and be a wall for the house of Israel. There was none to fight for the church of Christ even to exile, to say nothing of blood- that church which Christ had purchased for himself with his precious blood. Consequently all the saints of this country are confessors, and there is no martyr. It would be difficult to find such a state of things in any other Christian kingdom. There was found no one in those parts to cement the foundations of the growing church with the shedding of blood. There was no one to do this service; not  single one. For they are pastors that wish to be fed, and do not wish to feed. They are prelates that do not wish to be of use, but rather to use. And they are bishops who welcome the honour and and name of their calling, but do not welcome its duties and responsibilities'.

This passage from the is pivotal in understanding Gerald of Wales's othering and demonisation of the Irish throughout the Topographia. The Irish Church is criticised on grounds of being too ascetic and its lack of concern regarding pastoral duties and active involvement in ecclesiastical matters.The amount of space dedicated to Church reform towards the end of the book shows that Gerald had this in mind while writing the rest of the Topographia and this markedly influences the colonial nature of the rest of the text. One such instance can be identified when he Gerald criticses a rite in Munster. According to his account there is a well once touched that causes a deluge of rain across the entire province. The rain will not stop until 'a pries, who is both virgin in mind and body and specially chosen for the purpose celebrates Mass in a chapel not far from the well' and 'appeases the well with a sprinkling of holy water and the milk of a cow of one colour'. This account may seem at first to derive simply from the prejudiced colonial nature of the Topographia, however it must also be understood within Gerald's viewpoint of the Church. The 'barbarous rite, without rime or reason' can be linked to Gerald's wider beliefs about reform. With this account he is hoping to alienate the Irish Church further from the rest of Europe by potraying as uncouth and almost pagan.This can also be identified when Gerald describes the Irish as 'ignorant of the rudiments of of the Faith' and 'shameful in their practices and culture'. Gerald is attempting to advance his agenda of Church reform by paganising the Irish, separating them from their long Christian tradition.

Perhaps, one of the most obvious ways through which Gerald distinguishes the Irish from the mainstream Christian tradition is by recasting its history. While describing the history of the Irish Church in part 3, there is a notable absence of Ireland's Golden Age of monasticism and missionary work on the continent. The absence of the former can be explained by Gerald's particular distaste for neglecting pastoral duties, at the cost of asceticism. Another way through which Gerald undermines the tradition of the Irish Church is by attacking the tradition of St Patrick driving out all the snakes out of Ireland. He writes 'Some indulge in the pleasant conjecture that Saint Patrick and all other saints of the land purged the island of all harmful animals. But it is more probable that from the earliest times, and long before the laying of the foundations of the Faith, the island was naturally without these as well as other things'. In this instance, Gerald is deliberately separating the myth regarding the absence of poison and snakes in Ireland from the its Christian tradition, by suggesting it has always naturally been like that. The effect of this is that it once again distances the Irish Church from the wider Christian community.

         Kingfishers and storks from a manuscript of the Topographia found in the British Library
                                         


The Geography of the Topographia 

The uneasiness of Ireland's position in the Topographia and Gerald's difficulty of placing it because of its historic relationship to the rest of Europe can also be identified in the geography found within the first part. Andrew Murphy has previously argued that the end of part one sets Ireland in direct opposition to the East, but with the purpose of placing Ireland at the zero point of a graduated scale that runs from East to West. By doing this Ireland is neither directly conforms to the 'otherness' or 'sameness' of the East or West. The most obvious example of this can be seen in Gerald's emphasis on the poisonous nature of the East. 'The Well of the Poisons brims over in the East. The farther from the East it operates, the less does it exercise the force of its natural efficacy' this until Ireland which Gerald states is absent of poison. This is a useful way at looking how in the eyes of Gerald, Ireland never fully fits into the conceptions of the East and West, but it is also a viewpoint that can be heavily expanded upon.

Murphy goes on state that the text states any form of mediation is impossible and morally detestable, as seen by a set of tales that stress unbreakable boundaries and dichotomies. However, he misses out the key religious undertones that Gerald is promoting in these tales. In one instance 'there is a Lake in Ulster which contains an island divided into two parts'. The key feature that divides the two parts is that 'one part contains a very beautiful church with a great reputation for holiness, and is well worth seeing;' yet 'the other part of the island is stony and ugly and abandoned to the use of evil spirits only.' The main subject of this division is the Church and it determines the welfare of any visitors to the island.  Likewise, the tale of the Lake in Munster has follows a similar if more complex pattern. 'There is a lake in the north of Munster which contains two islands, one rather large and the other rather small. The larger has a church venerated from the earliest times. The smaller has a chapel cared for most devotedly by a few celibates called 'heaven-worshippers' or 'god-worshippers.' Gerald goes on to state that 'No woman or animal of the female sex could ever enter the larger island without dying immediately' on the smaller island 'no one ever dies or could die a natural death'. Those who live on the smaller island still 'sometimes suffer mortal sickness and endure the agony almost to their last gasp' when 'they are eventually so distressed that they prefer to die in death than drag out a life of death, they get themselves finally transported in a boat to the larger island' where 'as soon as they touch the ground there, they give up the ghost'. Once again the main subject of the division is religion, except this time neither part seems to be fully adequate. Gerald's purpose in including these tales is to show the position that he believes the Irish Church is in. The tales do not just show Ireland's position as neither directly conforming or opposing to the West, but they particularly focus on the Irish Church and how it neither fully adheres to or antagonises Gerald's outlook on the Faith.

                         The Werewolves of Ossory, depicted in a copy of the Topographia.

The Werewolves and Social Rites

The story of the werewolves near the border of Meath is perhaps one of the most commented about section of the Topographia. With scholars taking a range of meanings from the tale which Gerald of Wales seems to give particular attention to.  However, they have understated its religious connotations and the way Gerald relates these to critique social rites. Karkov has particularly tied the tale to political events. In the tale, a priest is travelling from Ulster to Meath during which he encounters two wolves on the edge of a forest on the border of Meath. During this period, Meath and Ulster were under the control of two Anglo-Norman nobles, Hugh de Llacy and John de Courcy, in between them was the Kingdom of Airgialla ruled by the Irish Murchad Ua Cerbaill. Murchad had submitted to Henry II and Prince John, but was in alliance with Ruaidrí Ua Conchobair, the High King of Ireland. Karkov however not only believes Gerald is portraying Airgialla as an Irish 'wilderness', but also suggests the tale is a criticism of the fian, bands of young and aristocratic fighting men. One of the terms for warrior, Fenian and others, was luch-thonn (wolf-skin), while in pre-conquest tales fennid is interchangeable for diberg (outlaw or brigand). Men who participated in such activities were also known as ac faelad (wolflings). Kim Mcone has argued that membership of the fian whether fictional or real was a socially endorsed rite of passage. These interpretations are correct in that Gerald is critiquing the social rites of the Irish through the werewolf tale, but do not fully consider how they relate to Gerald's religious agenda.

One of the claims of the tale is that one of the wolves 'said some things about God that seemed reasonable' and that the 'wolf gave a Catholic answer in all things'. This is remarkable, as Gerald is suggesting that not only the beasts are reasonable, but inhabit a mediate space where they are still faithful. The importance of this can be seen in the skinning of the wolves to human form. The she-wolf  in the tale 'received from the hands of the priest all the last rites duly performed up until the last communion' and 'gave thanks also to God that in her last hour he had granted her such consolation'. The wolf then 'begged him not to deny to them in any way the gift and help of God'. The priest followed this and 'pulled all the skin off the she-wolf from the head down to the navel, folding it back with his paw as if it were a hand' and 'immediately the shape of an old woman, clear to be seen, appeared.' The fact that this tale revolves around the priest conferring and blessing the wolves, reveals Gerald's opinion of the Irish Church. It is like the wolves in that is similarly close to his personal view of orthodoxy, but is still covered by a 'skin'. Only by the removal of the skin by an outsider, 'the priest, can the Irish Church fully resemble the true faith. The fact that 'the skin which had been removed by the he-wolf resumed its former and position' and that the wolf still 'showed himself to them to be a man rather than a beast' further highlights the uneasy position the Irish Church inhabits in Gerald's mind.

Similar tales to this throughout the Topographia also show this. Gerald reports a rite of conferring kingship in Kenelcunill in northern Ulster. 'When the whole people of that land has been brought together in one place, a white mare is brought forward in the middle of the assembly' a man then 'has bestial intercourse with her before all, professing himself to be a beast also. The mare is then killed immediately, cut up in pieces and boiled in water.' Gerald criticises this social rite, but it is important to note he does this in the context of religion with it being 'unrighteous'. By stating he is 'professing himself to be a beast also' Gerald is referencing Mark 10:8, 'and the two will become one flesh. So they are no longer two, but one flesh.' The man by having bestiality with the white mare to be made King is losing his humanity in the process because of the unrighteousness act he is committing. Gerald is directly relating the social rite to his apprehensive view of the Irish Church. A similar pattern can be detected in Gerald's description of a hybrid that was half-ox and half-man 'in the neighbourhood of Wicklow when Maurice fitzGerald got possession of the country and the castle'. This instance could be compared with the presence of hybrids in Gerald's other work The Journey Through Wales and the Description of Wales. Jeffrey Cohen suggests that the presence of hybrids in this is a result of  cross-cultural interaction between  Anglo-Normans and the Welsh in the Marcher lands. A similar viewpoint on hybrids in the Topographia could be supported by the fact that the ox-man only appears after the Anglo-Norman conquest of Wicklow. The ox-man was eventually 'transferred to the society of men' because 'it had more of the man than beast'. As Gerald places importance on religion and morality as part of social rites, the fact that the ox-man eventually joined the society of men means it is reminiscent of the werewolf tale. It therefore adds to the suggestion that Gerald views the Irish Church as occupying an uneasy ground, that it neither completely adheres toor opposes his beliefs.

Conclusion

The Topographia Hibernica  has all the trappings of a colonial text, however the way in which Gerald of Wales was particular concerned with Church Reform has been overlooked. His focus on rites and worship shows that he is especially concerned with the practices of the Irish Church and they relate or do not relate to his own personal views on reforming the Church. Because of Ireland's long Christian tradition this task requires deconstructing the Irish Church's history and its importance. The unsettled position which the Irish Church occupies in Gerald's mind can also be identified in the tales geography found in the text. The Topographia Hibernica is therefore not only a text with colonial connotations, but a text that combines these with Gerald of Wales's specific concerns regarding Church reform.


Bibliography:

Primary Source:

Gerald of Wales, The Topography of Ireland (1188) translated by John J. O'Meara in The History and Topography of Ireland. London: Penguin, 1982.

Secondary Sources:

Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome. "Hybrids, Monsters, Borderlands: The Bodies of Gerald of Wales." In The Postcolonial Middle Ages, edited by Jeffrey Jerome Cohen, 85-104. New York: Palgrave Macmillan US, 2000.

Karkov, Catherine. "Tales of the Ancients: Colonial Werewolves and the Mapping of Postcolonial Ireland." In Postcolonial Moves: Medieval through Modern, edited by Patricia Clare Ingham and Michelle R Warren, 93-110. New York: Palgrave Macmillan US, 2003.

Martin, F. X. "Gerald of Wales, Norman Reporter on Ireland." Studies: An Irish Quarterly Review 58, no. 231 (1969): 279-92.

Murphy, Andrew. But the Irish Sea Betwixt Us: Ireland, Colonialism, and Renaissance Literature. Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1999.

Museums and Exhibitions: Constructing Narratives and their Relation to Personal and Public Memory

Museums and exhibitions are some of the most important ways through which history is communicated to the public. Much like any other form of history they are influenced by factors, such as bias, selectivity and accuracy.  They are also areas of contestation and debate, as they have a legitimisation effect. They can promote a certain narrative of the past to the public. However, people can also take different meanings from the same museum or experience based on cultural factors that affect them personally. This post aims to evaluate the role museums play in constructing public memory and how an individual's personal response to an exhibit can be related to this.

                                                    British Museum, London

The Construction of Memory

The role museums play in constructing public memory could perhaps be understood at first in terms of the Imagined Communities of Benedict Anderson. For some scholars, public history offers the images and symbols to hold diverse groups within a society together, Anderson himself stated a shared history- remembrance and forgetting in common- is a crucial instrument in the construction of a community. This view can be seen in the works of  W. Lloyd Warner who analysed commemorative rituals in Yankee City and Pierre Nora's multivolume account of sites of memory (lieu de mémoire) in France. The view suggests that public history, including museums, is essentially consensual. In which a civic or national ideology is ultimately more important than those of cultural and economic differences (such as ethnicity and class). In this way museums help to create a sense of unity superior to any divisions. However, John Bodnar's Remaking America: Public Memory, Commemoration, and Patriotism in the Twentieth Century (1992) shows that there is a distinction between official memories (such as promoted by the government or a particular museum) and the vernacular memories that ordinary people have to sustain ties of family and local community. Exhibitions therefore should not just be understood as representations of a narrative the museum is trying to portray, but as places where individuals negotiate with their environment in the construction of their historical memory.

Individual responses to museums  do not always correlate with the narrative it may be trying to show.  Rowe, Werstch and Kosyaeva saw this in an exhibiton 'Unseen Treasures: Imperial Russia and the New World' put together by the American-Russian Cultural Cooperation Foundation. This was displayed in the Missouri History Museum, located in St Louis in the United States. The main narrative according to the museum itself is one that 'tells an adventurous story of heroism, romance and spiritual enlightenment through the lives of real people who shaped American-Russian relations in the 18th and 19th centuries'.  It was organised into five sections, the first being on 'St Petersburg and the Imperial Court.' Rowe argues that this section shows the official narrative about the cultural grandeur and historical significance of European and Imperial Russia as seen by two views of the 19th century winter palace through a lithograph and an oil painting. These were also arranged with other physical objects from the Tsarist era. Both images concern the Arch of the General Staff Building, the painting showing Imperial soldiers marching through it.

Responses to the exhibition however did not conform with this narrative of Imperialist Russia, instead they tended to be connected more to personal memory. One respondent in the study stated 'It's the Winter Palace, and in 1985 I lived in St Petersburg for a summer with a friend of mine in her apartment, down the street here' another 'When I was a child growing up in St. Petersburg, the people would walk through the square everyday, and I took classes at the museum'. The importance of this is that it shows how museums act as points at which personal and public memory interact with each other. The narrative of the museum combines with the personal and emotional response of an individual who visits it.

To understand the role museums play in constructing memory, is therefore to understand how an individual's interaction with an exhibit shapes their response to it. Museums often act as intermediary spaces where personal and private memories come into contact with wider, collective memories. Rowe believes this dialogue can also be seen in the Missouri History Museum. One of the major goals for the Missouri Historical Society is to 'provide its diverse community with information about past human thought and activity, supplying critical context for analysis of persistent themes and significant issues in the present'. The museum is therefore supposed to be a link for the individual between the past and the present. Rowe sees this as a matter of accessibility, by connecting visitor's experiences of present-day St Louis to the past it creates a gateway to the wider general narrative of museum about the history of the area. It is an example of personal and public memories.

Missouri History Museum, St Louis

                 

                                                   

Paul Tibbets, pilot of the Enola Gay

Contested Memory

As museums create different responses (emotional and in interpretation) they naturally become sites of controversy, where different narratives of the past negotiate. If a museum is supposed to be representative of the past then they act as discussion places for the validation of historical narratives. This can be seen in the 1990s over a dispute of an Enola Gay exhibit in the Smithsonian. The B-29 bomber was used the one used during the atomic bombing of Hiroshima. The dispute rose out of two conflicting narratives of the atomic bombings, according to to a 1993 planning document the exhibition's primary goal was 'to encourage visitors to make a thoughtful and balanced re-examination of the atomic bombings in the light of the political and military factors leading to the decision to use the bomb, the human suffering experienced by the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the long-term implications of the events of August 6 and 9, 1945'. This view therefore emphasis ed the suffering caused by the atomic bombings. Opposition of this narrative could be found among veteran groups and members of Congress, who argued that the exhibition was politically motivated and was trying to show the nuclear bombing of Japan was unnecessary.

By 30 September 1994 enough pressure was felt that parts of the exhibition were changed, the estimated casualties for a hypothetical conventional invasion of Japan were heavily altered. Previously, the exhibition stated that the United States would have only suffered 31,000 casualties in the first 30 days of fighting (less than the most estimates for bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki), now it stated American casualties could have ranged from 260,000 in the first phase to 1 million if they had to fight their way across the Japanese Islands.  In this instance a museum was acting as a forum for debate over a historical event and controversy. By January 1995 the Enola Gay exhibit was cancelled by the Smithsonian Institute due to the continued controversy. The Smithsonian Secretary  I. Michael Heyman went on to suggest that the institution should not hold such topical exhibitions again, halting projects on the Vietnam War and a NASM exhibition on air power.

The controversy of the Enola Gay exhibition can be viewed as a battle over public memory. As a museum mediates between the past and the public, it holds 'truth' value in the construction of the past. A museum can endorse a narrative, while at the same denouncing opposing narratives. It is therefore essentially a forum for the validity of a certain narrative within public memory of the past.

                                                   Smithsonian Institute Building
                                   

Conclusion

This post has suggested that museums acts a venue through which public and personal memory interlink and negotiate with each other. Museums can sometimes be created with a specific narrative in mind, but this does not mean an individual will interpret it in such a way. The variety of meanings an individual can take from the same exhibition means that they become sites of not only controversy, but also places where public memory is debated and contested.




Bibliography:

Brown, Richard Harvey and Beth Davis-Brown. "The Making of memory: The Politics of Archives, Libraries and Museums in the Construction of National Consciousness." History of the Human Sciences 11, no. 4 (1998/11/01 1998): 17-32.

Glassberg, David. "Public History and the Study of Memory." The Public Historian 18, no. 2 (1996): 7-23.

Kohn, Richard H. "History and the Culture Wars: The Case of the Smithsonian Institution's Enola Gay Exhibition." Journal of American History 82, no. 3 (1995): 1036-63.

Rowe, Shawn M., James V. Wertsch, and Tatyana Y. Kosyaeva. "Linking Little Narratives to Big Ones: Narrative and Public Memory in History Museums." Culture & Psychology 8, no. 1 (2002/03/01 2002): 96-112.

             'Smithsonian Substantially Alters Enola Gay Exhibit After Criticism' October 1 1994. http://www.nytimes.com/1994/10/01/us/smithsonian-substantially-alters-enola-gay-exhibit-after-criticism.html?mcubz=1 Accessed 07/09/2017.

Image Credit goes to WikiCommons

Review: The Merovingian Kingdoms 450-751 by Ian N.Wood

The 1994 book 'The Merovingian Kingdoms 450-751' by Ian Wood aims to address the period of the eponymous dynasty's rule and influence over significant parts of Western Europe up until its usurpation by the Carolingians. Wood approaches this task in a manner which combines chronology with thematic analysis allowing the reader to understand continuity and change on a number of important topics. However, the inconsistent way in which this is done raises questions about the target audience of the book.

Chapters on the political context are the most frequent and form the backbone of the chronological narrative. Starting from early barbarian settlement in Gaul the chapters describe the main events up to the deposition of the last Merovingian King, Childeric III, by Pippin. These chapters attempt to analyse any changes in the conduct of politics throughout the covered centuries. However, in some instances they fall short, especially in the early chapters which can be overly descriptive and short of analysis. Later on, with the rise of the Mayors of the Palace, the political side of the book becomes more in-depth. This is mainly in part due to the increased level of insightful analysis of primary sources, especially when facing the challenge of texts which may possibly considered as Carolingian propaganda. The book tends to focus on the Kingdom of Neustria, while at the same time Austrasia is noticeably covered to a much lesser degree. However, Wood is successful in describing what can be known about periphery territories. For example, we learn when Frisia and Alamania fall in and out of the Frankish sphere of influence. Likewise, the complex political situation in Aquitaine is described in detail.  Nevertheless, it remains clear that the focus of the book is on the Kingdom of Neustria.

The narrative of events is  dispersed with more analytical chapters. These are mainly on the Church, including its production of culture, and the economy. Other topics are assigned individual chapters, such as Merovingian Law and the role of royal women (most notably Brunhild). Nevertheless, Wood manages to place these chapters alongside the more politically oriented ones in a way that maintains the chronology. This is useful in showing economic and social changes over time, but means an opportunity to connect them more closely to the main narrative is missed.

Wood mainly relies on textual sources for the book and is  aware of the limitations of what he uses. Understandably, his early chapters are heavily reliant on Gregory of Tour's History, a pivotal source for the early Merovingian era. The Chronicle of Fredegar and its continuators are frequently used later in the book. However, Wood also uses a range of other sources, even if they are consulted less. Archaeological evidence is noticeably slim, when present it is only used in the context of the economy. The excavations of the emporia Dorestad are particularly used well. Numisatic evidence is also used to describe the economy. While, Wood could have perhaps used more forms of material evidence, this is often in part due to the nature of the evidence available rather than  a fault attributable to the author. Indeed, his shrewd use of textual evidence in situations which may be unexpected helps to fill in some of the gaps. For example, in the chapter 'Land, Wealth and the Economy' he manages to infer from hagiography more details regarding the economic structure of the Frankish Kingdoms.

One of Wood's main arguments is that the transition between the Merovingian and Carolingian dynasties was one of continuity. He argues against the idea of a Merovingian decline. His emphasis on cultural continuity,  including the production of manuscripts at Luxeuil and Corbie, implies that the Carolingians built on the achievements of the Merovingians, reliant on them for later developments. The same can be applied to the development of the emporia and also law. The political transition from the Merovingians to the Carolingians was also steady, featuring continuities on top of changes.

The book is also heavily footnoted and features a detailed bibliography. Wood states that citations of secondary material are aimed at students whose primary language is English. Works in French and German are only provided where no English alternative is available. This is prioritised over the inclusion of the latest scholarly research. The book also contains genealogies of the Merovingian dynasty. These are useful in particular when used in conjunction with the political narrative, due to the brevity of which some monarchs are dealt with. However, placing them to the front of the book or alongside the narrative may have made them more prominent for the reader. A number of maps are also included and these are helpful in providing a general overview of boundaries, but naturally are limited in the complexity they can show. These similarly could have been included earlier in the book to help the student or general reader.

                                             Seal of Chilperic II from a letter dated 716


To conclude, 'The Merovingian Kingdoms 450-751' by Ian N.Wood is an attempt to offer an account of the entire Merovignian period, while at the same time maintaining thematic analysis by combining it with the chronological narrative. Wood is successful in doing this, however the chapters vary in depth and quality. Some political chapters are heavily descriptive and could have benefited from more analysis of textual sources or the means of implementing power itself. Chapters that tend to be focused on a particular issue, such as different aspects of the Church and economy tend to be more insightful. Nevertheless, Wood's approach both shows change and continuity in a mostly clear way and his argument that the Carolingians owe a lot to the Merovingians is persuasive.

Review: Writing Medieval History Edited by Nancy Parker

'Writing Medieval History' is a collection of essays aiming to survey how theories developed from the 'linguistic turn' and Postmodernism have and can be used in Medieval studies. It does this by concentrating on three key themes: the self, the use of literary techniques in history and sex and gender. This approach is useful by allowing in-depth accounts of  particular 'new' methods, but does this at the expense at of having less breadth.

The range of authors employed in the 9 essays allows some differentiation in the way each chapter is approached and structured. But they all fundamentally are made up of two key parts, the theory and an example of how this can be applied practically. This is helpful as it allows the reader to identify instances where they could similarly apply the techniques offered. Each chapter concludes with detailed footnotes and a guide to further reading. The latter is useful in guiding the reader to broader works in the humanities and social sciences, while at the same time pointing towards further Medieval studies using postmodern methods. 

The first section of 'Writing Medieval History' is entitled 'Recognizing People in Medieval Society: The Self'. As implied by the title, the chapters here focus on the interaction between the 'self' and wider society and forms through which the 'self' is represented. 'Social Selves in Medieval England: The Worshipful Ferrour and Kempe' by David Shaw looks at social networks in the towns of Wells and Lynn and how individuals interactions with these shaped their identity. Richard Ferrour and John Kempe (wife of the the mystic Margery Kempe) were shaped not only by the wider assumptions of society, such as gender and urbanity, but also were affected by the cultural impact unique to their communities. Shaw suggests this was based on characteristics such as honour and fidelity and their pursuit of an identity was based on achieving status through these means. The chapter is useful in showing how documentary evidence can be used to not only show social networks, but how these relate to the individuals interaction with society.

'Biography and Autobiography in the Middle Ages' by Jay Rubenstein by looking at these literary genres suggests that the often cited 'discovery of the individual' was did not spontaneously occur in the 12th century.  Instead, what occurred was that writers in the late 11th century began to formulate new ideas about the 'self', therefore instead of a 'discovery' of the individual there were developments and in how to think and write about it. Rubenstein also suggests that elements of Medieval autobiography can be detected in biographical works- which often contain details relating the author to the subject of the text.  Medieval biographies also come with an agenda or theoretical apparatus that differ from the modern versions of these genres, for example Vitae may offer a model for how life ought to be led.

The final chapter in the section about the 'self' is 'The Hidden Self: Psychoanalysis and the Textual Unconscious'. Focusing on the use of the basic Freudian principles for psychoanalysis it also dips into the works of some later writers, such as Marshall Edelson, but at the same time lacks space to go into the works of other important psychoanalysts, such as Jacques Lacan. By taking into account how the mind symbolises what lays beneath its surface, Nancy Partner looks at accounts of Medieval dreams and looks for hidden meanings. She concludes that psychoanalytic theory can be used to show individuals 'pushing back' against a conformity-demanding culture and that it respects the individual psyche's fundamental activity of informing the world with meaning.

                                                            Margery Kempe

The second section 'Literary Techniques for Reading Historical Texts' begins with a chapter by Robert M.Stein on 'Literary Criticism and the Evidence for History'. Stein uses 'deconstructive' methods (in the weak sense, not directly related to the works of Derrida) to understand the operations that construct a text as a meaningful object. Written evidence should not be solely mined for clear facts and should not be just understood on the surface. The way in which text is composed can reveal further meaning. Using the example of the Hyde Chronicle, Stein shows how syntax and tense ere employed to show specific narratives. The Hyde Chronicle (detailing the Norman Conquest) changes form with the transition from Harold to William. William's accession to the throne is wrote as passive, maintaining Harold's legitimacy to the last moment while placing importance on divine intervention on the outcome of the change in Kingship.

Sarah Foot in 'Finding the Meaning of Form: Narrative in Annals and Chronicles' continues the section on literary techniques. Annals and chronicles are not simply chronological recordings of events they convey specific narratives and often wrote with purpose. The Royal Frankish Annals focuses on the Franks as a people and the idea they have a shared destiny with the Carolingians. Notable omissions include the Merovingian era, the history starts with Charles Martel. The annals are also intentionally tied around the liturgical calendar, placing the Frankish people and their Kings into a linear and Christian notion of time. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle is used as another example, composed with the purpose of promoting the idea of Angelcynn in line with Alfred's political ideals in his conflict with the Vikings. Chronicles and annals must not be taken at face value.

'Functions of Fiction in Historical Writing' looks at how Medieval genres including fiction and non-fiction were more permeable. Fantastical elements can appear in texts which may otherwise appear to be more historical for the modern reade. The works of Geoffrey of Monmouth and William of Newburgh are used to show 'creative history-making' with a purpose. This can be seen when William uses Gerbert of Aurrilac and an Aqutainian monk's experience in an 'underground frozen world' with 'automata' as metaphor for the the past not being fully retrievable. Gerbert and the monk cannot touch anything in the underground realm as it would result in their deaths, despite the former's 'magic'. The 'magic' symbolic for the historian's interaction with the past. Fictionality was not simply accepted as fact, it was a means of conveying specific narratives. Geoffrey of Monmouth was criticised for being a 'liar', but at the same time the way he uses fictionality (i.e Brutus being the legendary founder of Britannia) was adopted in later histories for use in ancestral claims. Therefore, in this essay, Monika Otter shows that fiction and non-fiction were mixed and combined in some Medieval writings.

                              Merlin and Vortigern from Monmouth's 'History of the Kings of Britain'

The third part is called 'Historicising Sex and Gender'. The first chapter 'Historicising Sex, Sexualising History' takes into account that despite the human body being biologically similar, it does not mean that the Medieval period understood it in the same way. Firstly, medical knowledge at the time shaped the way in which it was understood. However, cultural regulation occurs through laws and taboos. Sexuality in Medieval Europe was heavily restricted by canon law. For example, the 'conjugal debt' expressed spouse's sexual commitment to each other, but as always it is always difficult to identify how far canon law was followed. In the instance of conjugal debt, the husband and wife both technically had equal status, yet at the same time it would appear this often did not happen in practice. Jacqueline Murray's chapter therefore explores how biolgogical and cultural understandings influenced the Medieval notion of 'sex'.

Cordelia Beattie's chapter on 'Gender and Femininity in Medieval England' using the theory of Judith Butler shows how gender in the Medieval Period could be performative and not simply related to the wider assumptions of society. Some actions were 'feminine' while others were 'masculine' and yet at the same there were multiple 'feminities'. The 'Good Wife' archetype was chaste, modest and obedient to her husband, whereas the archetype of the 'Evil Wife' had characteristics such as extravagance and gossiping. Beattie's point is that there were multiple ways in the Medieval Period for woman to be seen acting as feminine, regardless if these different forms were valued on the same 'moral' level. The example of Margery Kempe is used to show how the idea of a woman being in control of the household economy, was yet another discourse in competition for the idea of 'femininity'.

The final chapter of the book 'Masculine Identity in Late Medieval English Society and Culture' by Derek Neal looks at some of forms through which Medieval masculinity was expressed. One of these is language and how it relates to the competitive nature of masculinity in the era. 'Boy' did not refer to a 'Male Child' before the 15th century, instead referring to 'servant' or 'person in a menial position'. When applied it was a derogatory term meant to undermine someone's masculinity, showing how gender could be related to hierarchies of power. Masculinity could be measured by how one used property- misabuse and greediness could be aligned with a lack of masculinity, once again showing a range of masculinities in discourse. Neal also focuses on how masculinity was realigned with the clerical and therefore celibate world. Expressions of sexuality, especially with a lack of self-control, could demasculinise and could take away from a man's reputation in gendered hierarchies. The chapter therefore adds to the debate on nor only the construction of masculinity in the Medieval Period, but how different ideas about it fought each other.

To summarise, 'Writing Medieval History' is mostly successful in providing an insight into some of the methods associated with Postmodernism and how the Medievalist can apply these. The focus on three key themes allows the text to go in-depth on specific theories, while avoding other potential areas of focus, such as Medieval postcolonialism, queer theory and cultural studies. As a result of this, each section is more than a simple snapshot of a particular method than may have appeared in a more general book on Medieval writing or Postmodern techniques, allowing the reader to gain more valuable in-sight and placing them in a better condition to carry out further reading or apply theory. Therefore, while not comprehensive, 'Writing Medieval History' is an accessible and well-written introduction to the use of Postmodern techniques in the Medieval discipline.



Image credit goes to:

Wikicommons

http://www.luminarium.org/medlit/margery.htm

Gustav III of Sweden: An 'Enlightened Absolutist'?

In its traditional form 'Enlightened Absolutism' refers to the idea that in the second-half of the 18th century the domestic policies of most European states were influenced by the Enlightenment. Government now became a systematic and rational attempt to apply new knowledge to the task of ruling, whereas the improvement of educational opportunities, social conditions and economic life became a priority of rulers. The term first arose to prominence in historical writing in the 1930s and for a generation was largely accepted by the scholarly community. However, by the 1960s the term came under increasing criticism,  for its practical impact as a top-down policy, the importance it places on the monarch in governance and as an attempt of the ruling elite to promote stability in the face of increased unrest throughout the period 1763-89. In the 1970s and 1980s the term was steadily redeemed to an extent in scholarship, most notably in the work of Anderson, who stated that he was willing to admit the enlightened intentions, if not the achievements of many rulers. This post shall engage with this debate by assessing whether Gustav III of Sweden (1771-1792) can be used to support or dismiss the idea of 'Enlightened Absolutism'.

Gustav III of Sweden

The first traces of Enlightenment ideals that may have influenced Gustav III can be seen in his youth. His mother, Lovisa Ulrika, sister of Frederick the Great, was interested in the scientific, philosophical and aesthetic trends of the day. In particularly, she admired the work of Voltaire, who she had known in Potsdam. At the age of four, Count Carl Gustav Tessin was appointed as his governor, teaching Gustav the classical ideals of 17th century France. His history tutor Olof von Daln, known as the 'Voltaire of the North, undermined much of the effect of the conventional piety of Tessin.  Sweden in Gustav's youth was in its 'Age of Liberty', an era which increased parliamentary control and therefore once the Estates began to suspect Tessin and Dalin's political principles they replaced them with Count Carl Fredrik Scheffer.

In 1766, Gustav married the Danish princess, Sophia Magadalena, established his own court and began to take a role in politics. From this period onwards we see an increasingly autocratic strain in Gustav's thought. In 1766, he also prepared a rough constitutional draft with a preference for strong kingship. Scheffer, now also disillusioned with the parliamentary politics of Sweden, introduced Gustav to Le Mercier de la Rivière's L'Ordre naturel in 1767. This work argued that competing and particular interest prevented just and efficient government, only a hereditary sovereign with unlimited power could uphold the common good while protecting the legitimate rights of each class.

By March 1768, Gustav drafted a second constitution. Encouraged by the duc de Choiseul in the hope of French aid, this was the beginning of Gustav's attempts to seize power through a coup. However, any attempt to stage a coup would have required the cooperation of the Hats, one of the main political parties alongside the Caps, who were currently out of office and searching for political retribution. To gain the support of the Hats, Gustav made some concessions with his ideology and sought to show this through another speculative constitution. It now stated that a separation of powers should exist, but it still provided for a greatly strengthened monarchy. At the same time Gustav became more immersed in the works of the Enlightenment. Catalogs in the Royal Library in Stockholm show how he quickly acquired the latest works, whereas Gustav's personal correspondence shows some degree of exchange with the philosophes.

                                      L'Ordre Naturel by Le Mercier de la Rivière

The opportunity to seize power finally came as the Swedish Estates entered into political chaos in 1772. The three lower estates began a concerted attack against noble privileges, through the Riksdag and also through an intense period of pamphleteering. Gustav had already previously played at mediating, most notably between the Hats and the Caps at the Riksdag of 1771-72, and so the crises provided a perfect opportunity to increase his power, On 19 August 1772, gained consent from the assembled Estates for a new constitution which strengthened the monarch's power greatly, Gustav III had succeeded in his coup. However, how far can the early stages of Gustav's reign be characterised as autocratic? The new constitution itself proclaimed adbhorrence for despotic power, despite in the detail actually increasing it. Furthermore, the ambiguity of parts of the document seemed to not put too much focus on either the monarch or parliament. The King himself proclaimed that he wished to restablish the constitution of Gustav II Adolf, which in his view included the rallying of the Estates, with the nobility at the head based around the King. It is therefore, clear that at this stage Gustav III can hardly be called an absolutist.

Can Gustav III said to be have been seen following Enlightenment ideals in the early part of his reign? His reception in intellectual circles in Europe seems to have been mixed, Voltaire sent congratulations writing a poem entitled "Young and worthy heir to the name of Gustav. However, Raynal condemned the Swedes for accepting from their monarch rather than imposing on him in the  second edition of his Histoire des deux Indes (1774). Whereas, after dissolving the Riksdag following the regime change he embarked on numerous programmes with the aim of economic and social improvement. The civil administration was improved through the purges of corrupt and inefficient officials, whereas peasant landholdings were consolidated alongside the reclamation and settlement of uncultivated lands. The Order of the Vasa was set up to encourage merit in agriculture, commerce, mining and the arts. The introduction of  a 'Swedish dress' in 1778 sought restrain luxury, reducing expensive imports. Gustav III also took on the notion of an 'enlightened' ruler through some of his humanistic reforms. He immediately abolished torture and penalties on the whole were reduced in severity. In 1781, he proclaimed limited toleration for non-Lutherans, including Roman Catholics. However, Gustav also increased the censorship of the press, particularly in relation to criticism of the monarch himself. Many of Gustav's reforms could also be seen as political maneuvers, his economic reforms would have especially pleased the lower estates who had previously been problematic in the political crisis before he seized power. Gustav III therefore seems to fit the 'Enlightened' part of the model used by historians, to a certain degree.

                Swedish warships being fitted in 1778 for the Russo-Swedish War (1778-1790)

Gustav's reform programme however began to encounter difficulty with the Riksdag of 1778-79, there was increasing criticism of his regime and his opposition to further religious and penal changes also resulted in a degree of discontent. He also began to display growing disillusionment with the Parisian philosophic world, complaining that philosophy generalises everything and that the philosophic-democratic spirit that was prevailing was contrary to his principles. Nevertheless, it would be wrong to assume that Gustav had turned against Enlightenment ideals as a whole. While attending a Christmas mass at St Peter's in Rome he publicised the toleration of Catholics in Sweden. To foreign visitors, such as William Coxe and Francisco de Miranda, he continued to point out the enlightened benefits of his reign: hospitals, prisons, dockyards and canals. His criticisms therefore were directed at certain philosophers, rather than the application of philosophical ideals as a whole,  Gustav also became increasingly absolutist, in 1779 he progressively increased restrictions on the freedom of the press. Yet, the continual increased  in royal power came at cost in the form of increased aristocratic opposition. This generally stemmed from the old Swedish constitutional traditions, but some was based on some of the anti-despotic ideals that came out of the Enlightenment, For example, Locke's social contract or Voltaire's condemnation of the irresponsible tyranny of Charles XII. The ideas of those such as Paine and Rousseau also had an influence on the Swedish aristocracy. The crisis point came with Gustav's declaration of war on Russia, currently at war with the Ottoman Empire, in 1788, violating his own constitution that stated an offensive war required the consent of the Estates.

The rebellious Anjala Confederation, charging Gustav with the breaking of social contract, appealed to Catherine II of Russia and drafted new constitutions which aimed to decrease royal power. Denmark also declared war on Sweden, due to her alliance with Russia, but this rallied the Danophobic and anti-aristocratic passions of the masses. Therefore, once the Danes were repelled, the nobility was isolated and was branded with treason. Ironically, the rebellion gave Gustav the opportunity to increased autocratic powers further. In late 1789 he called a Riksdag and with the support of the three lower Estates forced through an Act of Union and Security. This abolished most noble privileges, while increasing greatly the power of the crown. Can the Act of Union be used to call Gustav an 'absolutist'? This does not seem the case on the whole and seems that the extremity of it was seen as a temporary measure. Although, he renounced France's republican system following the Revolution, he became particularly interested in Delomle's Constitution de'l Angleterre. The influenced of this can perhaps seen when he was forced to call a Riksdag in 1792, where he planned another coup to introduce a constitution based on the English one. A upperhouse of 24 'jarls' alongside a lower house of 240 elected by the people (of course with both roles having high property qualifications). However, Gustav did not try to implement the idea at the Riksdag, the atmosphere during it persuaded him otherwise.

                                                  Pope Pius VI and Gustav III

The case of Gustav III of Sweden shows the limitations of using the term 'Enlightened Absolutism'. In terms of matching the 'Enlightened' part of the definition he seems to have been personally inspired by philosophical trends at the time, especially those which matched with his political principles. But, his opinions were open to change, as seen in his increased criticism of the Parisian intellectual community following the Riksdag of 1778-79. His economic and social reforms could also be said to fit the notion of an 'Enlightened' ruler, but it is difficult to discern whether these were for cynical political usage or as a result of personal belief. It is also difficult to match Gustav III wholly to the 'Absolutist' part of the definition. Although, his reign did see a general increase in authoritarian power, he was certainly open to concession. The Act of Union and Security can be seen as a measure to solve a temporary political crisis, whereas the constitution following the coup of 1772 can be said to have allowed enough to space to gradually increase the power of the monarch, without the dangers of over emphasis. Therefore, Gustav III's reign was much more complex and subject to change than the term 'Enlightened Absolutism' would suggest.




Bibliography:

Barton, H. Arnold. "Gustav III of Sweden and the Enlightenment." Eighteenth-Century Studies 6, no. 1 (1972): 1-34.

Scott, Hamish. M. Enlightened Absolutism: Reform and Reformers in Later Eighteenth-Century Europe. University of Michigan Press, 1990.

Image Credit goes to WikiCommons

Iconoclasts and Iconodules: Religious Controversy in the 8th and 9th Century Eastern Roman Empire

The Emperor Leo III ascended to the Eastern Roman Empire in 717. His reign was marked by several notable events including the end of the Twenty Years' Anarchy- a period which saw a high rate of Imperial succession- and the last Arab siege of Constantinople being fought off with the use of Greek Fire. However, the most prominent feature of Leo the Isaurian's reign was the beginning of the Iconoclastic Controversy. In 726 an Imperial edict was issued condemning the veneration of icons, this was essentially the banning of natural figures in religious art and the removal of all images of Christ, the Saints and Old Testament scenes from places of worship.This caused widespread divisions in the Empire and would continue to cause problems intermittently until the mid 9th century.

                                A solidus based on Leo III that was minted in Rome.

There is much debate on the origins of this Imperially sponsored attack on the veneration of icons. Firstly, one could draw from an already established line of Christian thinking that frowned down upon the use of images. Bishop Epiphanius of Salamis (d.403) criticised the use of icons in an era which saw the development of distinct Christian art style, during which the standard imagery of Christ, the Angels, the Apostles and Biblical scenes was set. The centuries preceding the Iconoclastic era also saw an intensification of the practice of image veneration. Icons were often believed to provide special access to the who it depicted. This development was very similar to the later emergence of relic cults in the Carolingian Empire. Due to their perceived spiritual nature, relics were believed to have practical impact, therefore during the Second Arab Siege of Constantinople by the Umayyad Caliphate, the Hodegetria, an icon of the Virgin Mary, was regarded as the reason why the siege was eventually lifted. This increased veneration of icons likely stirred up counter-currents, with  fears that such devotion represented idolatry.

There are also Jewish and Muslim influences to consider when explaining the emergence of iconoclasm in the Empire. The Umayyad Caliph Yazid II (720-724) may have forbid the Christian veneration of icons in the territory under his control, but the existence of this edict is debated. Instead, it may have been a fabrication by Iconodules (the supporters of icon veneration) in order to portray the Iconoclasts in a light similar to Islam, which was still seen to some degree as a particularly heretical form of Christianity. Fears of deviation from practice may have been aroused by the large-scale territorial losses of the Empire from the 7th century onward by the rapid expansion of Islam, this coincided with a rise in apocalyptic and Old Testament based beliefs. Therefore, iconoclasm may have been part of a growing sentiment of fear regarding divergence from correct religious practices.

 A Bulgarian depiction of the Second Arab Siege of Constantinople in a translation of  the Manasses Chronicle 

There are some problems with evidence while discussing the supposed implementation of iconoclasm under Leo III.  Firstly,there are only a few textual documents that deal with this early period of persecution, many of them dating decades after the death of Leo III. For example, one of the sources, Theophanes' Chronographia dates from between 810-14, whereas the Apologeticus Minor by Nikephoros dates from 780.  A further problem arises with the sources for this period, Haldon and Brubaker have suggested that opposition to iconoclasm under Leo III may have been exaggerated due to a perceived bias of the later writers, many of who were iconodules. For example, Theophanes states that a rebellion of the Helladic army in 726/727 was a direct response to Leo III's policies and yet there is no contemporary evidence that suggests this. The refusal of Pope Gregory II to deliver revenues from the provinces of Sicily and Italy has likewise been associated with the Iconoclastic Controversy, but an alternative explanation could be the fact that Leo imposed a capitation tax on 1/3 of the populace of Sicily and Calabria (around 724/725). This included Papal lands that had previously been exempt. Therefore, working out what was a response to iconoclasm or a response to another political action provides difficult.

9th century iconoclasm as portrayed in the Chludov Psalter 

However, under Constantine V (741-775) it appears that the ideology of iconoclasm became more prominent. In 754, Constantine called a ecumenical council at Hieria, this was attended by 333 bishops and endorsed the Imperial stance on icons. Further, evidence of this 'state' endorsement can be seen in the refurbishment of religious sites. Furthermore, the Hagia Eirene had been damaged by an earthquake in 740, yet when Constantine ordered his masons to rebuild it the only symbolism present was that of the cross. Other iconography was noticeably absent, for iconoclasts, only the indirect images of the cross and the Eucharist were acceptable ways to represent Christ. A restoration of the Hagia Sophia in 768/769, saw portraits of the saints in  mosaic medallions being replaced by crosses. Furthermore, according to the vita of the iconodule Stephen the Martyr,  Constantine replaced all the Christian frescoes in a church in Blachernai with secular scenes in 754. These actions were part of a much larger and general Imperial building project undertook in Constantinople, which  included the restoration of the walls and the water system. Nevertheless, it is clear that under Constantine, iconoclasm had increased in importance as a doctrine.

With the succession of Leo IV in 776, Imperial policy towards icons drastically changed. Rather than carrying on his father's policy of replacement or destruction, Leo sought to mediate between both factions within the Empire. This can be seen in his appointment of Paul as Patriarch in 780, coming from a lower clerical status and a known 'neutral' in the controversy, his appointment can be seen as an attempt to avoid taking an official stance on the veneration of icons. This appointment also meant that factionalism would not hamper Leo's ability to use to the Patriarchy for political advantage.

                                             Leo V (813-820) is proclaimed Emperor

State-endorsement of iconoclasm only reappeared during the reign of Leo V the Armenian (813-820). One of the explanations for this official revival of iconoclasm, is that Leo V was seeking an explanation for the defeats the Empire had suffered under the hands of the Bulgars. During the early years of Leo's reign, the Bulghar Khan Krum had devastated the districts of Macedonia and northern Thrace, even planning an attack on Constantinople. Despite, being saved by the Khan's untimely death in May 814, Leo still needed a justification for these events in order to maintain popular support and reinforce his authority and legitimacy, iconoclasm provided this. Popular support for iconoclasm can be in seen in the attempt of ex-soldiers raiding the tomb of Constantine V in June 813, with the hope of him 'returning' to save Constantinople. Leo sought to take advantage of this popular support, by explaining military defeat in terms of the failure of recent emperors to pursue an iconoclastic policy. By reviving an official anti-veneration stance, Leo secured his position politically by putting the blame elsewhere.

Upon the succession of Michael II in 820, iconoclasm remained an official part of Imperial policy. This could be partially explained by the increased degree of uniformity enforced by Leo V. Theodore of Stoudion, writing under Leo V, remarked that the whole Constantinopolitain clergy now conformed to Imperial policy, whereas the monastic opposition which was found during the reign of Constantine V was nowhere to be found now. Therefore, any radical shift in official religious policy could have been unnecessarily destabilising to Michael II after he assumed the title of Emperor. Nevertheless, continued official Imperial endorsement of the iconoclastic viewpoint, did not mean that Michael II himself was not more lenient than his predecessor to iconodules. His recall of exiles who had been banished by Leo for refusing to share communion with iconoclasts, suggests he was willing to be more meditative between the two factions, even if the official stance on the debate remained the same.

Theophilos (829-842) was the last iconoclastic Emperor and took a more severe approach to iconoclasm than his father, Michael II. In 830, he banished a number of iconodules, such as John of Katharoi and Makarios of Pelekte. Furthermore, in 833, he ordered the seizure of the property of anyone who collaborated or sheltered anyone with iconodules. This sudden intensification of policy, could be possibly explained by the personal beliefs of Theophilos. During his youth, he was tutored by the iconoclastic John the Grammarian, who he later appointed as Patriarch in 837.  It is a distinct possibility, that Theophilos was influenced by his former tutor's teaching. However, this period of increased iconoclasm had a limited impact , as the Emperor's death in 842 quickly saw the return to orthodoxy for the final time. Theodora, regent for Michael III called an ecumenical council in 843. This council saw the final lifting of a ban on image veneration and the end of Imperially sponsored iconoclasm and therefore the end of the Second Iconoclastic Period.

                                          Theophilos, the last iconoclastic Emperor


 To conclude, official support of iconoclastic policies can be most closely related to the individual policies of different rulers and their circumstances.  In the instance of Leo V, endorsement of iconoclasm made political sense as a means of legitimisation, whereas under Michael II ensuring dogmatic continuity prevented large-scale destabilisation. Imperial adoption of iconoclastic views, could perhaps also be explained by personal belief (Theophilos) and as a response to a growing debate on the nature and uses of icons (Leo III). Regardless, it is clear that in all these instances, official support of iconoclasm was  situational and highly dependent on the Emperor. This is not to deny the existence of a movement outside of the Imperial court, far from it, but to suggest that adoption of iconoclasm as official policy by the Emperor was highly dependent on their personal and political circumstances. Because of this, Imperial support of iconoclasm could only have a highly limited impact, a lack of a sustained policy prevented religious policy under the iconoclasts from having  any long-term impact on the Empire as a whole.






Bibliography:

Brubaker, Leslie and John F. Haldon. Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era c. 680-850 : a History.  Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011.

Collins, Roger. Early Medieval Europe, 300-1000. History of Europe. 2nd ed.  New York: St. Martin's Press, 1999.

Image Credit goes to WikiCommons

Review: Postmodernism for Historians by Callum Brown

 Callum G. Brown, in his 2005 book 'Postmodernism for Historians', aims to provide the first dedicated primer on Postmodern theory for  History students. So to what extent is he successful to doing this?  And does he do this in a clear and accessible way?  Brown's account is also sympathetic to Postmodernism as a whole. With himself being a practitioner of many of the techniques associated with it. Because of this, the book is not just an introductory guide, but an argument for application of Postmodernism in History as a whole, as we shall see.

 Each chapter of the book is split into three main sections: 'Theory', 'Application in History' and 'For the student to do'. The first, as the name suggests concentrates on  the main aspects of 'Postmodern' theory relevant to History and forms the largest part of most chapters. The second draws from a variety of historians' works, exploring how they  have applied this theory while carrying out research. The third section concentrates on how a student could apply Postmodern techniques while studying. This format for the most part works well, but the final section is always the smallest- which is a disappointment considering the book's target audience.

In the introduction, Brown lays out the key tenets of Postmodernism. Firstly, that reality is unrepresentative in human forms of culture (such as textual and visual material). The second tenet then is that because of this no authoritative account can exist of anything. This of course causes conflict with a 'scientific' or 'empiricist' view of history- which would argue that one of the purposes of history is to reveal what actually happened in the past. He takes this idea forward in the first chapter in the first chapter 'Empiricism' which explains the reasons behind these principles. Firstly, by explaining the difference between a 'fact' and an 'event'. An 'event' is something that happened in the past, a 'fact' is a human construction- it is a record and expression of the 'event'. Because of the processes that go into trying to reconstruct the 'event'- such as consulting historical documents- an array of problems arise that obscure the truth, such as biases, accuracy and editing. This problem of being unable to represent reality becomes worse when the historian tries to make something meaningful out of their research. As Brown notes, it may be possible to objectively say 'the Bastille was overrun by people on 14 July 1789' but as soon as you develop this point it becomes a 'narrative-statement', For example, to say the storming of the Bastille marked the beginning of the French Revolution is to make a judgement based on the importance of an event. And as the historian's job involves more than a simple statement of an event- their work inevitably becomes a reflection of reality based  rather than a proven 'truth', as they develop narratives.

Brown is keen to point out that Postmodernist critique does not extend to the empirical method- in fact it as ever remains a key part of a historians toolkit to verify their work. Instead, it is a critique of the empiricist philosophy of knowledge. Brown also importantly refutes a common criticism of Postmodernism- that it denies the existence of reality. A Postmodernist does not deny the existence of reality, but simply the ability to reflect it fully and objectively.

                                                          Roland Barthes

The  chapters 'Sign' and 'Discourse' are mainly concerned with theory. The first of these deals with 'semiotics', one of the cornerstones of Postmodern theory. One way it does this is by engaging with the theorist Ferdinand de Saussure, engaging with theorists is a  recurring feature of Brown's exposition of Postmodernism. Which he often makes this easier through 'boxes' set aside from the main text, which is simple but effective. Semiotics is constituted of the study of 'signs', 'signs' are the constituent parts of any form of communication. These are often words, but can appear in other forms ,for example the word 'mouse' conveys the same meaning as the drawing of a mouse. A sign has two parts the signifier (the sign's physical form, such as a sound, printed word or image) and the signified (the mental conception of the idea expressed by the sign).The signifier is quite arbitrary and bears no resemblance to the signified. Crucially, each 'sign' is part of a 'sign system' through which it gains its meaning via similar or opposing signs. So how is this relevant for the historian? Brown refers to the work of Roland Barthes- who took the concept of sign-systems to cultural studies. He argued that everyday forms of culture have hidden languages with political meanings- using the example of a wrestling match. As such a historian can decode these languages or sign-systems within societies in the past. Semiotics also allows the historian to take more notice of the words they use in their work and what hidden meanings they may have.

The second of these chapters deals with 'Discourse'. Discourse can be loosely defined as something that is embedded in the 'signs' and is a result of a collection of statements based on these signs that form a narrative that conveys its meaning across society. This is perhaps, best understand through an example, something Brown uses to his advantage to help in understanding theory. For example, Michel Foucault in Madness and Civilisation explored the social construction of the idea of 'madness' throughout different eras. For example, in the Medieval era and the Renaissance madness was seen in a positive light, having a 'holy quality' in the former and representing 'high knowledge' in the former. From 1650 onwards, Foucault noticed a dramatic reconstruction of the idea of madness towards it resembling pure illogicality and lack of reason. Brown then argues that this- discourse analysis- is one of the easier tools sometimes associated with Postmodernism that one can pick up.

                                   The Libirare Plon edition of Madness and Civilisation

'Post-structuralism' explores the movement of the same name. In Post-structuralism, all knowledge is socially constructed- structures such as class, gender and race are not concrete and are the fabrications of society. For the historian, Brown suggests, this means instead of structures being used to study history (for example, a Marxist using class) they themselves should be studied, including how they originated and how the meaning and language has changed over time. Therefore, a post-structuralist would examine how a structure was understood within a period, rather than applying one to the whole of history. 'Text' dissects how the Postmodernist would look a text. Instead, of a simple piece of literature, for the Postmodernist 'text' is the material manifestation of signs, discourse and structures. This manifestation is not always written, in fact a 'text' can also be 'visual' or 'audible', such as an image or music. 'Texts' form 'stories' or 'narratives' and in turn 'metanarratives', which influence the former. The Postmodernist deconstructs these 'texts' in various ways, including identifying its intertexuality (how it borrows from other texts) and the signs, discourses and structures within the text. These are only some of the methods of deconstruction that Brown discusses. He also points towards the work of Hayden White, whom saw history as more of literary exercise than a science- they have to make the same decisions as any writer and they do these on poetic grounds.

The chapter 'Self'' is about Postmodernist ideas regarding the construction of our own identity. We construct the 'self' through how we perceive ourselves and our reaction to how others perceive us. In exploring this theme in relation to History, Brown mainly focuses on the 'Application in History' section of this chapter. One notable aspect historians have noticed is how people draw from society in the construction of their identities. For example, Alistair Thomson interviewed Anzac veterans and noticed overwhelmingly their recall of serving in the military was not based on their own experiences, but on the reconstruction of their memories based on Australian national culture. This chapter also deals with the agency of the individual in history and the practice of reflexivity. Whereas, Morality deals with perhaps one of the most controversial aspects of Postmodernism in History- the fact that morality should not be based on empiricism. Brown argues this through the idea that morality changes throughout societies and time, but also through the fact Postmodernism denies an authoritative account of the past and thus anything is up to debate. However, as Brown suggests,  Ermarth has already noted that the lack of an authoritative account can actually have positive moral implications. Modernist and empiricist history has tended to led to authoritative and immoral stances (such as racist and sexist stances) to be held across society.According to Brown, Postmodernist history, with its endless debate, would not allow this to happen.

The final chapter 'Criticism of Postmodernism in History' is the only section completely dedicated towards negative views of the school of thought. Brown could have expanded on this, but then as points out there are plenty of works already out there that provide a thorough exposition of the supposed faults of Postmodernism. This section mostly acts as a refutation of these criticisms and these vary in strength. Nevertheless, this chapter is a welcome, if underweight, concluding chapter.

                               Hayden White discussed the literary nature of writing history

In summary, Callum Brown is mostly successful in providing an accessible introduction for students to Postmodernism and its relationship to history. It fills a large gap in the market, while also introducing the reader to a wide-range of theorists and further reading, which they may wish to follow. It also has some practical advice for students and how they can begin to apply these to their studies. The format of the book works well, but sometimes the large amount of theory could be balanced out with more practical advice of how to implement Postmodern techniques. Nevertheless, 'Postmodernism for Historians' overall is an enjoyable and useful introduction.