The Historian Third Volume First Issue

The Historian, Vol. 3, No. 1

Volume 3, Number 1 September 2013 1

The Historian, Vol. 3, No. 1

Table of Contents

Editors-in-chief

Contributors’ Details

Page 3

Editors’ Note

Page 5

Welcome to the History Society

Page 6

Society Talks and Medieval Seminar Programme

Page 7

The Venetian Elite in Literature and Reality

Page 8

Suicide: A Modern Phenomenon?

Page 12

Freeborn John and the Levellers

Page 16

Impact of Darwin and Darwinism

Page 22

The USTC Project

Page 28

Mussolini the Mafia, and the Iron Prefect

Page 31

Witchcraft and Medieval Queens

Page 37

Postmodernism – an Introduction

Page 43

The Bill Douglas Centre

Page 47

Arthur der Weduwen Andrew Eckert

Editorial Board William Tonks Emily Vine Rebecca Chircop Michael Doyle

Contributors (order of appearance) Lydia Murtezaoglu Charlie Rush Jack Howarth Katherine Emery Michael Doyle Edward Jones Arthur der Weduwen Louis Jones Conor Byrne Izzy Parker Emily Vine Andrew Eckert

Understanding the Medieval and Early-Modern World Module review Page 50

Cover Design

Understanding the Modern World Module review

Page 51

Editorial Board Information

Page 52

Lydia Murtezaoglu

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Contributors’ Information Degrees, Interests, and Contact Arthur der Weduwen is a Third-Year student reading History and International Relations. He has been editor of The Historian since March 2012. He has previously written for The Historian on topics such as the Glorious Revolution (Vol. 2.2), the decline of serfdom (2.3), and eighteenth-century British foreign policy and isolationism (2.4). His main research interests are Early Modern political, economic, and book history. He is writing a dissertation on ambassadorial and popular views of the United Provinces and effects of these on Dutch foreign policy during the later 1730s. Email: ad383@exeter.ac.uk Andrew Eckert is a Second-Year BA History student. He has been editor of The Historian since March 2013. He has previously written for The Historian on the Islamist expansion of the seventh and eighth centuries (Vol. 2.4). His main research interests include the Crusades, Middle Eastern history, and the interactions between East and West in the medieval period. His Doing History projects focuses primarily on the Arabian occupation of Southern Spain. Email: ate202@exeter.ac.uk Emily Vine is a Third-Year BA History student and member of the editorial board. She has previously contributed to The Historian on the ‘Angry Young Men’ exhibition at the Bill Douglas Centre (Vol. 2.4). Her research interests are Early Modern and Modern social, cultural and medical history, and her dissertation will examine attitudes towards mental illness in Britain in the seventeenth century. Email: emv205@exeter.ac.uk Michael Doyle is a Second-Year History and International Relations student and member of the editorial board. He has previously written for The Historian on topics such as the relevance of history as a discipline (Vol. 2.2), the decline of serfdom (2.3), and the progressive social reforms under Labour in the 1960s (2.4). His primary research interest is the Early Modern period, encompassing socio-economic and diplomatic history. His Doing History project this term will focus primarily on US-British relations from 1800-1815 – in particular the cultural element. Email: md377@exeter.ac.uk Lydia Murtezaoglu is a Third-Year History student and Co-President of the History Society. She has contributed previously to The Historian on the RAMM museum and the ‘Angry Young Men’ exhibition in the Bill Douglas Centre (both Vol. 2.4). She has also created the cover of the journal for the last three issues. Her main historical interest is Britain in the eighteenth century, particularly the methods used to engage with the electorate. She more broadly enjoys social, political, and gender history in the early modern to modern period. Email: lhm206exeter.ac.uk Charlie Rush is a Third-Year History and Politics student and Co-President of the History Society. Her main research interest is the Tudor monarchy; as well as the Wars of the Roses.

Email:cr322@exeter.ac.uk

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Jack Howarth is a Third-Year BA History student. Studying Venice in his first year was something of a departure from his usual interests, which are late modern history; his dissertation, for example, is on the Third World War scare in Britain in the late seventies/early eighties. However, his third year modules seem set to allow him to diversify a bit as they range from the ancient world to the present day. Email: jh505@exeter.ac.uk Edward Jones is a Third-Year History and Politics student. His interests are modern British political and imperial history, along with British, US and Middle Eastern politics. He also enjoys political philosophy and economics. He is writing his dissertation in the field of UK Politics, possibly about attitudes and policy towards unemployment in Britain. Email: ej240@exeter.ac.uk Louis Jones is a Third-Year History and Philosophy student. His historical research interests are founded in the modern era, focusing on the twentieth century in particular. His areas of specialism are Mussolini and Italian Fascism, but he has also studied European imperialism and the British Empire.

The incongruence between outward impressions of rule and the true realities of it are of particular interest to him. Email: louis.allan.jones@gmail.com Izzy Parker is a Second-Year BA History student. Her main historical interests are Modern European history, in particular the French Revolution and European colonisation and subsequent decolonisation.

Email:icp201@exeter.ac.uk Conor Byrne is a Second-Year BA History student. He has previously written for The Historian on topics as Anne Boleyn (Vol. 2.2), Katherine Howard (2.3), and the fate of Edward II (2.4). His main interests are Early Modern and Medieval history, in particular gender, cultural, and social history.

Email: cb497@exeter.ac.uk Katherine Emery is a Third-Year BA History student with an interest in the political developments and figures of the Wars of the Roses, particularly the role women played behind the scenes. Further interests of her include the role of medieval Saint cults in wider European society, and the role of those deemed ‘heretics’ in medieval and early modern societies. She has previously written for The Historian on the murder of the Princes in the Tower (Vol. 2.3), and Margaret of Anjou in popular culture (2.4). Email: kne202@exeter.ac.uk

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Editors’ Note Arthur der Weduwen & Andrew Eckert Dear Reader, We are pleased to welcome you all back for another academic year and congratulate those of you who are new amongst our ranks! This is the first edition of the third volume of The Historian, the History Society’s very own academic journal written by students for students. We begin the academic year with our new and enthusiastic editorial team who began working with us for the first time on this edition, and we remind you to find future editions of The Historian in our new stand in the History Department office.

We are delighted to present a selection of excellent contributions on a wide variety of subjects that your fellow students have been working hard to produce over the summer break. This edition opens with an introduction from the History Society Presidents, which is followed by a list of History Society talks and Medieval Seminars in First Term. In our first article, Jack Howarth discusses the Venetian Sumptuary Laws of 1516 and their role in protecting the wealth of the Venetian elite. Next, Katherine Emery discusses suicide in medieval Europe, arguing that suicide is not simply a phenomenon of the modern age, before Michael Doyle’s in-depth analysis of the roots of English radicalism. Next, Edward Jones grapples with Darwin’s theory of evolution and exposes its widespread effects beyond science, followed by Arthur der Weduwen who introduces the Universal Short Title Catalogue project of the University of St Andrews, outlining its various uses for early modern research. After this, Louis Jones assesses the effectiveness of Mussolini’s campaign to eradicate Italy’s Mafia, and then, Conor Byrne discusses how witchcraft and gender perception had a profound effect on English noblewomen around the fifteenth century. Next, Izzy Parker gives us an introduction to the impact of postmodernism on the study of history. Then, Emily Vine describes the unique collection at the Bill Douglas Centre before we finally see two First-Year History module reviews by Michael Doyle and Andrew Eckert. At the end of this issue we also have an introduction from the members of our editorial board.

We hope that you enjoy reading the articles in this issue and that they will inspire you to expand your historical interests and perhaps submit an article to be published in The Historian yourself. We will also take this opportunity to announce that the next edition of The Historian will be published in December: the deadline for submission is the 11th of November. If you would like to contact us about writing for the journal or enquire about any of the articles in this issue do not hesitate to email us at ad383@exeter.ac.uk or ate202@exeter.ac.uk. Finally, we thank you for your continued support and interest.

Have a historic year!

Arthur der Weduwen & Andrew Eckert Editors of The Historian, 2013-2014

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Welcome to the History Society Lydia Murtezaoglu & Charlie Rush, Society Presidents Dear Reader, Welcome to Exeter if you are joining us for the first time and welcome back to those of you who still struggle to find your way out of the Amory building! Whether or not you are studying History, we hope that you will enjoy reading The Historian, the History Society’s very own publication. Our committee works hard to bring together like-minded students who share a passion for history and give them the opportunity to develop their interests and enhance their university experience. The Historian not only showcases the work of some of your fellow students but also presents you with an opportunity to share your interests and develop your writing. We are very proud of the hard work and dedication of our editorial team and the many contributors that have produced a wide range of excellent articles. After reading the articles in this edition we hope that you will be moved to contact our editors and submit a piece for a future edition.

Aside from The Historian, we have made progress as a committee to integrate the society with the History department, in particular co-hosting academic talks such as Professor Löb’s testimony of the Holocaust, which was attended by a wide array of students from across the University. Last year we organised a successful trip to Amsterdam and this year History Society is running a trip to Brussels. From socials, sports tournaments and pub quizzes to the eagerly anticipated History Spring Ball, we hope you will immerse yourself in everything the society has to offer. If you have any questions about history, the society or university life in general, please get in touch as we are only too happy to help.

Lots of Historical Love, Lydia Murtezaoglu and Charlie Rush History Society Presidents 2013-14

History Society Committee 2013-2014 Lydia Murtezaoglu (lhm206) – Co-President Charlie Rush (cr322) – Co-President Liz Claridge (ec308) –Vice-President Benjamin Blackford (bb260) – Treasurer Anna Wilkinson (alw215) – Academic Officer Arthur der Weduwen (ad383) – Journal Editor Andrew Eckert (ate202) – Journal Editor

Hannah Bruton (hb322) – Social Secretary Sarah Kelly (adk205) – Social Secretary Lauren Parrott (lep214) – Publicity Officer Beth Whitwam (bw284) – General Secretary Olivia Cottrell (oc225) – Netball Secretary Sam Buxey (sdb214) – Football Secretary Will Gunnel (wgg20l) – Football Secretary

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History Society Talks Confirmed: 18 October: Stuart Pollitt, of the BBC, will hold a careers talk (time and venue to be confirmed).

27 March: Mark Connelly, of the University of Kent, will be giving a lecture regarding the centenary celebrations for WWI and their importance and impact today (time and venue to be confirmed).

Unconfirmed First Term events (soon to be announced): Kathleen Burk, of University College London, will give a talk about the relationship between the USA and the UK and its past and future meaning.

Ellen Malos will speak about her work for the Bristol Women’s Liberation movement.

Watch out for more information regarding talks and academic events organised by the History Society to be announced at socials and online on Facebook and Twitter. More events are to be released shortly.

First Term Medieval Seminar Programme Seminars are on Wednesdays at 4pm in Queen’s seminar room N unless otherwise specified.

Seminar convenor: Catherine Rider (c.r.rider@exeter.ac.uk) 9 October, 1pm: Welcome Lunch at the Devon and Exeter Institution (Cathedral Close) followed at 2pm by the first talk of the year: Prof. Anthony Musson (Law): Saints and Sinners: How 'Religious' were Medieval and Tudor Lawyers?

Please email Catherine Rider if you would like to come as numbers for lunch are limited.

23 October: Dr Hajnalka Herold (Archaeology): The archaeology of 9th-10th-century élites in central Europe: a region between the Carolingian and the Byzantine world 6 November: New Research by PhD Students in the Centre Philip Wallinder (English): A Digital Edition for a Difficult Text: the Case of John Trevisa’s Gospel of Nicodemus Jackie Veninger (Archaeology): The Landscape Behind the Text: the Archaeology of Conflict in 12th century Gwynedd 13 November: Prof. Yolanda Plumley and Dr Uri Smilansky (History): A Courtier's Quest for Cultural Capital: New Light on the Original Ownership of Machaut MS F-G Friday 22nd November, 11am, Queen’s room N: Dr Anna Matheson (RELMIN Project, University of Nantes): An Introduction to the RELMIN Project and Database: The Legal Status of Religious Minorities in the EuroMediterranean World (5th-15th centuries) 4 December: Prof. David Rollason (Durham) Kings, Forests, Hunting and Power in the Middle Ages 7

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‘Making Venice Ridiculous’: The Venetian elite in literature and reality Jack Howarth Renaissance Venice has (traditionally) been described as a ‘city that gloried in fine appearances and outward show’, and this is to a large extent true.1 Historic Venice is known for revelling in its own myth, its belief that it was ‘built more by divine than human will’ and was ‘divinely protected’.2 However, while the Venetian state was quite content to show off its wealth to foreign visitors and to revel in its own myth, its wealthy elite were restricted from doing the same through legislation called the Sumptuary Laws. These laws regulated how wealth could be spent and restricted who was able to outwardly display it, strictly forbidding excess.3 These laws might seem designed only to police habits of consumption, but one might also draw the conclusion that these were laws put in place by the elite who made up Venice’s government in order to protect its nobility from their own foolishness.

In this essay, I will be assessing the extent to which this protective legislation was necessary by examining fictional sources in which the wealthy are lampooned: plays by William Shakespeare and Ben Jonson; and sources drawn from reality: the Sumptuary Laws themselves and the curious case of Tomaso Gerachi.

The Senate Decrees of 1516 in which the Sumptuary Laws were established provide an official opinion of the elite’s expenditure.

From the language used it is clear that the frivolity of the wealthy was met with some disapproval in the Senate, but with the stated intention of the laws being to stop the trends through which ‘fortunes are squandered’, they nevertheless appeared to be concerned with protecting the wealthy from their own extravagance.4 What has been called ‘spectacular luxury spending’ was evidently a trend the Senate was keen to end and they went to quite considerable lengths to do so with these laws.5 These lengths included intricacies such as passing an entire Senate Decree dedicated to decreasing the number of pearls being hoarded in parts of Venice; they also included an effort to quell the rise of the new ‘major feature’ of the city’s social life – gambling.6 The swift increase in gambling’s popularity was especially worrying for those with the most to lose, and further necessitated their protection, particularly given the ease with which many of them seemed to be fooled.

Fiction set in Venice is littered with examples of the rich being easily hoodwinked and while one might dismiss examples such as Ben

1

E. Muir, ‘Images of Power: Art and Pageantry in Renaissance Venice’, American Historical Review 84 (1979), p. 18.

2 Marin Sanudo, ‘Laus urbis Venetae’ (‘Description of the City of Venice’), in David Chambers and Brian Pullan (eds.), Venice: a Documentary History 14501630, (Oxford, 1992), p. 5; Juergen Schulz, ‘Jacopo de' Barbari's View of Venice: Map Making, City Views, and Moralized Geography before the Year 1500’, The Art Bulletin 60 (1978), p. 468.

3 Senate Decree, ‘The regulation of banquets, 1562’, in D. Chambers and B. Pullan (eds.), Venice: a Documentary History 1450-1630 (Oxford, 1992), p. 179.

4

Senate Decree, ‘A magistracy to administer Sumptuary Laws, 1515’ in D. Chambers and B. Pullan (eds.), Venice: a Documentary History 1450-1630 (Oxford, 1992), p. 178.

5 R.A. Goldthwaite, ‘The Economy of Renaissance Italy: The Preconditions for Luxury Consumption’, I Tatti Studies: Essays in the Renaissance 2 (1987), p. 24.

6 Senate Decree, ‘Regulation of the wearing of pearls, 1562’, in D. Chambers and B. Pullan (eds.), Venice: a Documentary History 1450-1630 (Oxford, 1992), p.179; J. Walker, ‘Gambling and Venetian Noblemen c.15001700’, Past & Present 162 (1999), p. 28.

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Jonson’s Volpone, in which the titular character fools the majority of the cast through disguise, as merely being the imaginings of a playwright, the events of Jonson’s play do oddly parallel reality.7 A little-known name who perhaps deserves more fame in historiography is Tomaso Gerachi, a commoner from Verona who was able to adopt a variety of roles to defraud and cheat the wealthy; a Venetian patrician and a Milanese lawyer being just two of his guises.8 Not only was he able to cheat nobles during games of chance, Gerachi was

Venice also contains this plot device. In Shakespeare’s play, Portia fools the court of the Doge as well as her own fiancé by adopting the guise of a ‘Doctor of Laws’, something bizarrely similar to Gerachi’s real-life feat almost a century after the play was written.10 The effective use of disguise and costume within Venetian culture might suggest a general blindness of the wealthy population to rival that of the character Corbaccio in Jonson’s play, or a financially unhealthy enthusiasm for colourful outsiders. In either scenario, it seems the Senate Decrees were necessary for protecting the wealthy from those who preyed upon them, as well as preventing them from bringing ‘their own ruin’ through extravagant luxury.11 Indeed, while one of the main explanations traditionally given for Jonson and Shakespeare setting their plays in Venice is the ‘Elizabethan idea of Italy as a land of lawless and criminal passions’ – the real-life example of Gerachi might also point out the apparent ‘lack of common sense’ of the Venetian elite.12 In Volpone, this is illustrated by the idiocy of the three legacy-hunters around whom the plot revolves. They are continuously fooled by someone of a much lower social standing and are quite willing to see another man die for their fortune, both of which contribute to Jonson’s presentation of the Venetian elite as being deeply flawed – both intellectually and morally.13 As a result of their foibles, the audience is directed to believe that Volpone ‘is on our side’ against the ‘commercial Hell of

able to continue to enter and leave Venice at will despite being banished by the Senate.9 The use of disguise is shared by Volpone and his servant Mosca in Ben Jonson’s play; the two are able to fool the entire cast with simple costumes and this is not the only example of such subterfuge that can be drawn from fiction set in Venice – Shakespeare’s The Merchant of

10

W. Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, W.M. Merchant (ed.), Penguin edition, (Middlesex, 1967), p.

137; Johnson, ‘Deceit and Sincerity’, p. 399.

11 Ibid. p. 405.

12 R.H. Perkinson, ‘"Volpone" and the Reputation of Venetian Justice’, The Modern Language Review 35 (1940), p. 18; C.J. Gianakaris, ‘Identifying Ethical Values in "Volpone"’, Huntington Library Quarterly 32 (1968), p. 46.

13 Jonson, Volpone, pp. 35-36.

7

B. Jonson, Volpone, originally published 1606, New Mermaids Second Edition, (London, 2003), p. 47.

8 J.H. Johnson, ‘Deceit and Sincerity in Early Modern Venice’, Eighteenth-Century Studies 38 (2005), p. 399.

9 Ibid. p. 403.

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Venice’.14 This is despite the play opening with a scene in which he worships his gold.15 Volpone is by no means a perfect character, certainly compared to the gracious Portia in The Merchant of Venice, but he and the peasant Mosca are together still able to act as ‘assessors of behaviour’ because as immoral as they are, they seem to be paragons of virtue compared to the rest of the cast.16 This is in fact an important part of the play. That it is possible to describe characters such as Volpone and Mosca in terms of virtue illustrates the depravity of Venice in Jonson’s depiction. In Volpone, ‘no trustworthy character steps forth to comment on misdeeds’.17 This is dissimilar to Shakespeare’s play as although the Doge’s character may be ineffective, he nevertheless offers a credible voice of reason that showcases the supposed ‘impartiality of Venetian justice’.18 In Volpone, even the Avocatori, supposedly the highest recourse for justice in the state, are presented as being ridiculous examples of the corrupt and easily-fooled Venetian elite. Two instances in particular serve to turn the English audience against these Venetian authorities. The first of these is the Avocatori’s immediate acceptance of the peasant Mosca and the declaration that he is ‘a fit match for my daughter’ as soon as he appears to have gained wealth, despite him having been decried as a ‘knave’ moments earlier.19 While this kind of redistribution of wealth was relatively common in Venice, Jonson mocks the ‘inherent instability of the political system’, while at the same time illustrating the vapid superficiality of the

nobility.20 The second instance, rather than giving the impression of them being simply foolish, makes the Venetian justice system look cruel and malicious and comes when the Avocatori sentence Volpone to be ‘cramped with irons’, a punishment that would literally cripple him.21 The critic William Empson makes the point that no English audience would wish to see Volpone crippled, as not only is he the hero of the play, but his only real crime – performed, like his real-life equivalent Gerachi, so easily – was ‘making Venice ridiculous’.22 The over-reaction of the fictional Avocatori may seem a dramatic device to garner sympathy, but just as the real-life elite matched them in foolishness, so did the reallife Esecutori contro la Bestemmia (Council Against Blasphemy) match them in vindictiveness. The Council sentenced an unrepentant Tomaso Gerachi to ‘life in an unlit underground cell’ for his crimes, describing his disguises as an attempt to transcend a ‘Godgiven identity’.23 So serious was Gerachi’s crime of defrauding the rich, it was elevated to the status of blasphemy. It is clear that in this case the Venetian authorities acted in a way that greatly benefitted the elite, who were Gerachi’s only victims, and it may be the case that this was seen as such a heinous crime due to the fact that the authorities would have numbered among the same class as his victims.

Certainly, when one views this sentence alongside the Senate’s history of attempting to shield the wealthy from beggaring themselves, it is hard to avoid drawing the conclusion that protecting the rich was something the Venetian government was constantly concerned with, and necessarily so.

14

W. Empson, ‘Volpone’, The Hudson Review 21 (1969), p. 656.

15 Jonson, Volpone, pp. 9-11.

16 Gianakaris, ‘Identifying Ethical Values’, p. 53.

17 Ibid. p. 45.

18 D.C. McPherson, Shakespeare, Jonson, and the Myth of Venice (London, 1990), p. 51.

19 Jonson, Volpone, pp. 150-7.

20

Goldthwaite, ‘The Economy of Renaissance Italy’, p.

30.

21 Jonson, Volpone, pp. 160-161.

22 Empson, ‘Volpone’, p. 666.

23 Johnson, ‘Deceit and Sincerity’, pp. 410-413.

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In all the evidence considered here: the Sumptuary Laws, the fictional examples of plays by Jonson and Shakespeare, and the case of Gerachi, the Venetian elite appear as rather spiteful, easily-fooled misers who cared only for ‘gross and unnecessary expenditure’.24 In these sources, they are considered to be at best incompetent, or at worst simply and unforgivably immoral, and in all cases it seems as though they require the protection of some authority lest they lose all that they hold dear, namely, their wealth. That the Venetian

degraded and penniless as their fictional counterparts.

government would have to go so far as to issue laws to stop their own from becoming penniless speaks volumes about their conduct, and that this was a well enough known fact that it became satirised by English playwrights only enhances how absurd they seem. The myth that has somewhat endured to the present day of Renaissance Venice being ‘the richest place in the whole world’ seems likely to have only been possible through government intervention and the harsh punishment of those such as Gerachi who represented a threat to the existing order of the Venetian state. 25 Without these measures, it seems probable that the reallife Venetian elite would have ended up as

24

Senate Decree, ‘The regulation of banquets, 1562’, p.

178.

25 Marin Sanudo, ‘Laus urbis Venetae’ (‘Description of the City of Venice’), in D. Chambers and B. Pullan (eds.), Venice: a Documentary History 1450-1630, (Oxford, 1992), p. 5.

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Suicide: A Modern Phenomenon?

An exploration of medieval suicide rates Katherine Emery Suicide is often thought to be a modern phenomenon, with suicide rates published and analysed annually. While the topic still remains largely unspoken, it is less of a taboo than in previous centuries. Furthermore, it is suggested that the issue of suicide has only been addressed publically in the UK since the passing of the 1961 Suicide Act, particularly through modern support groups and health care professionals. For example, evidence has been gathered by groups such as the Samaritans (who endeavour to lower this rate) to suggest the suicide rate in the UK in 2011 was 11.8 for every 100,000 people.26 In contrast, the popular perception of suicide in the Middle Ages is that it was a rare occurrence, prevented by religious and social restrictions. However, it seems that suicide did take place in the medieval period, and was often reported and discussed in contemporary records, although largely through a religious and moralistic framework.

In this article, I will suggest that suicide rates are broadly similar to today’s statistics, and that these suicides were actively engaged with by medieval authorities, whether through political necessity, religious teaching or local records. Furthermore, I will suggest that medieval suicide rates were higher than previously suggested, due to misinterpretation by modern historians.

Modern historiography firmly asserts that suicide was taboo during the medieval period. The assertion is succinctly expressed by Murray, who argues suicide was forbidden for three reasons: Lordship (all people were owned by other people, so by committing suicide lords

were deprived of service), community (all people have a sense of shared work, so by committing suicide the community was deprived of service) and because the word of Church Fathers such as St Augustine condemned it morally.27 This argument would perhaps suggest that suicide would appear irregularly in medieval records because, as it defied social expectations, it would be committed very rarely or go unmentioned in records. The reason for this taboo can be attributed to issues of inheritance. Prior to the 1961 Suicide Act, there were societal penalties for suicides, which in the medieval period included the denial of property to suicides’ heirs by the state or church. One notable example of this is John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset, who died 27th May 1444. Beaufort, a leading English general in Northern France in the 1440s, made a series of humiliating military manoeuvres in France and returned to England in disgrace whereupon he suddenly died. The death of forty-year-old Beaufort was a blow to his family, a powerful illegitimate branch of the English Royal Family, and they were keen for Beaufort’s properties to quickly pass to his heir, his daughter, Lady Margaret Beaufort. In response, the Beauforts erected a fine tomb at Wimborne Minster for him, and had their adherents publicise Beaufort’s sudden illness.28 However, independent sources, such as the Crowland Chronicle, attribute Beaufort’s sudden death not to illness, but to suicide, 27

Alexander Murray, ‘Suicide in the Middle Ages’, Synergy 18 (2012), p. 3.

28 G.L. Harriss, ‘John Beaufort, Duke of Somerset’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography http://www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/1862?docPos=2 (Last accessed 22nd August 2013)

26

Elizabeth Scowcroft, ‘Suicide Statistics Report 2013: Data for 2009 to 2011’, The Samaritans (2013), p. 21.

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showing that rumours were abound about Beaufort’s real fate and perhaps suggests an attempt by the Beaufort family to cover up the true nature of Beaufort’s death in order to protect the family inheritance.29 This obfuscation can be primarily attributed to the socially unacceptable nature of suicide in the medieval period, defined by Murray, and this cover-up of such a high profile suicide is indicative of an endemic tendency to gloss over, or even omit suicide from medieval records.

However, while there are examples of cover-up attempts of suicides, there are circumstances when suicide does appear in records, and on these occasions medieval writers actively engage with these suicides in response to a political motive. In particular, it seems that suicide was used in records to attack the poor and dispossessed, and to cast aspersions on the character of this class.

Examples include that of Bartholomew Sultzer, a lower class criminal, who appears in the Augsburg Chronicle of Hector Mülich for 1437, having ‘stabbed himself to death in prison’ after a failed escape attempt.30 Not only does this entry highlight the criminality of the subject, but also labels him as a social degenerate with the accusation of suicide. A further example is that of Regensburg’s ‘Yellow Town Book’, which mentions a suicide in 1411. The individual is not named, but having been ‘reduced to misery and destitution by debts to the pig dealers’ he hanged himself at the local gallows.31 The connection between one’s position in society and the act of suicide is further affirmed in this case as the person is not even named, but instead identified entirely by his crimes – that

of debt and suicide. Also interesting to note is that the first mention of a suicide in medieval Europe is that of an Englishwoman who hanged herself between 1171 and 1172.32 Again, this woman is not afforded an individual identity but is defined in terms of her social position, both in terms of her gender and economic situation. Murray argues that this extends to how poor, lower-class suicides were treated in comparison to their richer counterparts. He uses examples seen in the medieval chronicle of Nuremberg, where the bodies of a female flagellant and a male goose thief who committed suicide were cremated, while a higher-class schoolmaster who stabbed himself to death was buried.33 This evidence suggests that suicide was used as a weapon against the lower classes, and primarily associated with the degeneracy of this class, and the issue is only engaged with by record keepers and populations alike to demonise poorer people.

The evidence that demonises poor people comes primarily from local medieval records, but there is also evidence to suggest that larger societal institutions, such as the Church, were keen to engage with the issue of suicide for didactic purposes, for example in ecclesiastical chronicles. A primary example of this is the case of a monk named Wolo of the Benedictine monastery of St Gall in Bavaria.

The chronicler Ekkehard of St Gall, a monk writing in 1035, 150 years after Wolo’s death, describes how Wolo committed suicide.

Ekkehard related how Wolo had a ‘stubborn spirit’ and often left the monastery without permission. After the boy’s parents visited the monastery in an attempt to control him, the Abbot, Notker, was visited by a demon that told him that he would suffer a ‘bad night’.

29

Crowland Chronicle.

Alexander Murray, Suicide in the Middle Ages: The Violent Against Themselves (Oxford, 1998), p.100.

31 Ibid.

32

Caitlin G. Callaghan, ‘Seven Shillings and a Penny: Female Suicide in Late Medieval England’, Medieval Feminist Forum 43 (2007), p. 89.

33 Murray, Suicide in the Middle Ages, p. 101.

30

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Durham’, written by Symeon of Durham. In his chronicle, Symeon was attempting to show the evolution of Durham and its rules, and the sanctity of its founder, St Cuthbert. In particular, Symeon highlights St Cuthbert’s decree that women would be banned from Durham Church. Symeon describes how a woman in the twelfth century defied this rule: a former nun, the wife of a rich man, walked into the grounds to view the beauty of the church.

Symeon writes that because of this act she ‘went out of her mind’ and ‘wandered about without a fixed home’ before ‘one day she was found dead under a tree, her throat bleeding and the knife with which she ended her own life in her hand’.35 It is clear that this story is being used by Symeon to prove both the sanctity of the church’s ground and the power of their patron, St Cuthbert. The fact that this woman is also an ex-nun perhaps also suggests that Symeon thought her death was deserved as she had abandoned holy orders. Therefore, perhaps this story is not an accurate retelling of a suicide but instead a way for Symeon to demonstrate the holy power and prestige of both Durham and St Cuthbert. The cases of both St Gall and Durham clearly show how the controversial topic of suicide was engaged with by medieval chronicles to create moralistic teachings to bolster their own institutions, and while they clearly believe suicide was a social taboo, they do not shy away from it in their attempt to augment their own message.

However, while the issue of suicide is used by medieval writers in records to tarnish the reputation of the poor and to create moralistic messages in clerical chronicles, several historians have also argued how suicides were often obfuscated in records and passed off as accidents, either by medieval record keepers or modern historians. Callaghan notes how medieval female suicide rates were

Wolo, throwing himself over the bell tower, then fulfilled this supernatural premonition. On his deathbed, Wolo confessed a sinful life, but stated he had never broken his vow of chastity.34 This story appears in the section where Ekkehard is trying to highlight the figure of Notker and emphasise his saintliness, and therefore Wolo’s suicide is almost a plot device in narrating Notker’s supernatural ability and pre-eminent religiosity. Furthermore, the promotion of St Gall is the primary reason for Ekkehard’s chronicle and Wolo’s suicide feeds into this by suggesting the religious and supernatural importance of the monastery through Notker’s visitation. This, coupled with the fact that the chronicle was written 150

The Crucifixion and Judas’ suicide early fifth-century Italian ivory now in the British Museum.

years after the reported incident, long after any oral testimonies of this event would be gone, suggests this story served to suit Ekkehard’s agenda – that is, portraying his historical idol and the monastery in a positive light.

A further example of a suicide that may not be historically accurate but serves an agenda appears in the twelfth century ‘Tract on the Origins and Progress of this the Church of 34

J. L. Nelson, ‘Monks, Secular Men and Masculinity, c.

900’, in D. M. Hadley (ed.), Masculinity in Medieval Europe (London, 1999), p. 132.

35

Callaghan, ‘Seven Shillings and a Penny’, p. 100.

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often outnumbered by men, while twentiethcentury statistics are roughly even: most notably only 9% of suicides mentioned in the Oxford Rolls were those of women.36 She questions whether this was an accurate reflection, or whether men were mentioned more frequently due to their economic value.37 However, this argument is undermined when recognising that female suicide was noted in the historical record, and in particular, the suicide of poor women, such as the Englishwoman who hanged herself between 1171 and 1172, whose worldly goods on her death were worth only seven shillings and a penny. The second strain of Callaghan’s argument is more persuasive. She suggests that medieval male suicide methods were more obvious, notably hanging and stabbing, while female suicide methods such as drowning or jumping from high places could be construed as accidents.38 This is a plausible argument, especially when considering the numerous ambiguous deaths mentioned in the Oxford Rolls that are described as ‘misfortune’. While this may link back to the desire to cover up suicide mentioned earlier, it could also be a misdiagnosis by medieval authorities. Other arguments presented by historians include that

by Murray, who argues that suicides of wealthy people were often over-emphasised in records, and this actually led to a dampening of suicide rates as poorer people were underrepresented.39 This too seems persuasive when considering how the cases mentioned in chronicles were often rich people, such as Beaufort, and that suicides committed by poor people were often used as political ammunition and only appeared in local, small scale records, which were more susceptible to becoming lost.

Therefore, it seems that the medieval suicide

rate has been greatly underestimated, not only due to the loss of records, but due to the misdiagnosis of accidental death by both medieval record keepers and modern historians.

In conclusion, medieval suicide rates may not have been dissimilar from their modern counterparts, but perhaps the disparity between male and female rates was larger in the medieval period. It also seems that the topic of suicide was not shied away from in medieval records, and instead was actively engaged with to promote certain political and religious agendas, most notably in local church records and institutional ecclesiastical records that promote a religious message. It also seems that historians such as Callaghan and Murray are accurate when arguing that suicide rates were dampened; mainly due to the loss of records and the misinterpretation by medieval record keepers and modern historians alike.

Therefore, the popular argument that suicide rarely occurred or was engaged with in medieval Europe is unfounded as the issue seems to have been engaged with on a large scale across time and class groups in multiple types of records.

36

Ibid.

Ibid. p. 104.

38 Ibid. p. 93.

39 Murray, ‘Suicide in the Middle Ages’, p. 3.

37

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Freeborn John and the Levellers: The beginnings of English radicalism Michael Doyle The British social order, built on the concept of class, today seems impregnable. Twenty-firstcentury Britain still remains a country in which one is meant to know one’s place in the social order. Contemporary British politics comprises solely of establishment political parties; a ruling class that is divorced entirely from the majority of its citizens, both in education and life experience. Voter apathy is widespread with few people engaging with the political process. The call for radicalism is loud, yet goes unheeded. Given this rather lacklustre political landscape, one turns to the past to seek solace, as well as hope. Seventeenth-century England was a country that had a ruling class detached from the concerns of her citizens. It too had a social order known as ‘the great chain of being’.40 Challenging this sociopolitical framework was a political group called The Levellers, led by their charismatic leader John Lilburne. Lilburne’s innovations in political campaigning and communication were at the fulcrum of the Levellers challenge to the ruling class. The historiography on the Levellers as it currently stands focuses heavily on whether they were a liberal or socialist group of political thinkers.41 In this article, however, I will focus on the challenges the Levellers made to the ruling class and the constitutional framework, and how they inadvertently pushed England into the embrace of republicanism. Furthermore, I will argue that the Levellers laid the seeds of the English radical political tradition and that the

movement was the first to germinate ideas that are still relevant to domestic politics in England today.

In order to understand how the Levellers were able to flourish in the late 1640s, one must first take in to account the economic, religious, political and geographical context that shaped the movement. By the early 1640s, London had become the fulcrum of England’s economic development, as well as being the seat of court and government.42 The merchant class had flourished at the expense of the tradesmen, and monopolised political power in London as well.43 The Levellers drew their support from the lower middle class. The cobblers, clockmakers, weavers and saddlers were the people John Lilburne spoke of when he described his supporters as ‘the middle sort of people’; they were of independent spirit, and of above average intelligence.44 Their support for the Levellers’ constitutional reform programme stemmed from their grievance with the disconnection of the ruling class from their concerns. This extract from a Leveller pamphlet exemplifies the source of the middleclass disaffection with the ruling class: ‘o you members of Parliament, and the rich men in the City, that are at ease and drink wine in bowls, you grind our faces, and flay off our skins’.45 When one looks at the compositions of the House of Commons and the House of Lords on the eve of the First English Civil War, one sees 42

H. Shaw, The Levellers (London, 1968), p. 14.

Ibid.

44 Ibid. p. 15.

45 D. Wolfe, Leveller Manifestos of the Puritan Revolution, 2nd edition, 2 vols (New York, 1967), vol. II, p. 275.

40

43

P. Seaver, Seventeenth Century England: Society in an Age of Revolution (London, 1976), p. 47.

41 M. Mendle, The Putney Debates of 1647: The Army, The Levellers and the English State (Cambridge, 2001), p. 280.

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a Parliament comprised of the propertied classes, with a network of family relationships that stretched across the benches in both houses.46 The Levellers had no problem justifying their charge that Parliament was wholly unrepresentative of the people of England.

The key element at the heart of the Levellers' philosophy was natural law.47 Natural law, according to the Levellers, stated that all power originated in the people who entrusted their elected representatives with as much of it as they chose. From this developed the Leveller idea of a sovereign legislative body, which would be subject to recall by the electors and to frequent accountability.48 The aim of the Levellers was to reduce the political power and end the political monopoly of the rich; George Wither expressed this best when urging the electorate to ‘elect men eminent for their virtues and abilities, rather than for their wealth, birth or titles’.49 Finally, and perhaps the most audacious of the Levellers’ aims, was a substantial extension of the suffrage to include all men.50 It is important to qualify why the Levellers did not propose to extend the franchise to women. The Levellers did not question the patriarchal nature of English society, instead it was their religious zeal which drove them as a political movement and guided their political philosophy. 51 This strong adherence to their faith prioritised the male head of the household. Finally, it is important to note that the first female political movement to emerge in England spawned from the Levellers in 1649, and whilst they voiced their concerns on matters pertaining to religion and

politics, they did not call for the vote, nor did they challenge the patriarchal nature of English society.52 John Lilburne was a natural leader of the Levellers for he epitomised all it stood for: a devout Puritan who immersed himself in faith during his teenage years, a passionate spokesman for the lower middle class and a vigorous opponent of the monarchy and the House of Lords. Lilburne was first imprisoned in 1638 for smuggling an anti-prelatic pamphlet from Holland.53 He was released from prison in 1640 after a speech on his behalf by Oliver Cromwell.54 This marked the beginning of a turbulent relationship between the two Parliamentarians. After a brief sojourn in the Parliamentarian army during the First Civil War, Lilburne returned to civilian life. In 1645, he took up the pen and began to write radical political and religious tracts.55 The Presbyterian members of the Commons were concerned at the radical ideas being floated by various religious and political sects. They feared that these ideas would fill any vacuum left by the collapse of royal authority in Church and State, so in 1643, Parliament reinstituted press censorship.56 Lilburne’s former mentor, the Presbyterian John Bastwick, was now his bitter enemy; he used weak evidence that incriminated Lilburne on charges that he had slandered the Speaker of the House.57 Lilburne was jailed for three months and was released in October 1645.58 This short period is important, for it helped shape Lilburne’s – and the Levellers’ – political creed. In his first manifesto England’s Birth-Right Justified,

46

52

Shaw, Levellers, p. 17.

G.E Aylmer, The Levellers in the English Revolution (London, 1975), p. 13.

48 Ibid.

49 B. Manning, The English People and the English Revolution (Reading, 1991), p. 412.

50 Ibid. p. 416.

51 Ibid. p. 418.

B. Manning, Aristocrats, Plebeians and Revolution in England 1640-1660 (London, 1996), p. 115.

53 Shaw, Levellers, p. 28.

54 Ibid.

55 Aylmer, The Levellers, p. 18.

56 Shaw, Levellers, p. 39.

57 Ibid. p. 41.

58 Aylmer, The Levellers, p. 17.

47

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Lilburne protests against Parliament’s violations of the common law, Magna Carta, and the Petition of Right. He then argues for the codification of common law: ‘ought there not to be a plaine platform agreed on, and laid down by the Parliament concerning things of so high consequence to all the Commons of England?’59 Herein lies the germinative idea of the Levellers’ most famous document: The Agreement of the People.

The Levellers were able to seize upon this dysfunctional relationship, and exploit the resentment that was fuelled by Parliament’s casual dismissal of the New Model Army’s complaints about pay arrears in 1647. The New Model Army itself was split between the officers, known as ‘Grandees’, and the rank and file ‘Agitators’. The Agitators were heavily influenced by the Levellers. Oliver Cromwell was concerned with these developments.

Cromwell, a Grandee, did not want the New Model Army to be taken in a radical direction by the Levellers. Furthermore, Parliament’s stability was teetering on the brink, and Cromwell was keen to push ahead with a reformed constitution that would be acceptable to the King and the army.63 Cromwell and Ireton published their own written constitution, Heads of the Proposals, in August 1647. This would serve to fill the vacuum left by the removal of Charles I, but also to pre-empt the Levellers from launching their own programme of reform. Heads of the Proposals argued for the retention of England’s existing constitutional framework, a Dominium regale et politicum, though the King’s executive powers would be reduced, he would still retain his royal veto.64 Ireton made key concessions to the Levellers: changes in the law regarding the imprisonment for debt and the abolition of monopolies were to be implemented.65 It was a document which reflected the pragmatism of Ireton, for though he was keen to reform the constitution, he was conscious of ensuring all sides were mollified.

In October 1647, the Levellers produced An Agreement of the People, a radical programme of constitutional reform which is one of the most profound and visionary pieces of political scholarship in British history.

There were two factions that constituted Parliament: the Presbyterians stood for social conservatism, and favoured an early settlement with Charles I,60 while the other faction, the Independents, took a more radical approach in matters of religion; though they too were instinctively conservative on constitutional matters.

The Presbyterians and the Independents were finding it difficult to come to an agreed position on how to deal with Charles.61 The Presbyterian majority in Parliament had little presence in the army, sensing that it could present problems in the future, the Presbyterians decided to dispense with the New Model Army.62

59

Wolfe, Leveller Manifestos, p. 6.

J.A. Sharpe, Early Modern England: A Social History 1550-1760, 2nd edition, 2 vols, (London, 1997), vol. II, p.

24.

61 Shaw, Levellers, p. 45.

62 Ibid. p. 49.

60

63

J.C. Davis, Oliver Cromwell (London, 2001), pp. 23-4.

G.E Aylmer, Rebellion or Revolution?: England from Civil War to Restoration (Oxford, 1985), p. 85.

65 Shaw, Levellers, p. 55.

64

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Building on the policy ideas sketched out in 1645 by Lilburne, An Agreement of the People calls for the following: ‘that the people of England being at this day very unequally distributed by Counties, Cities and Burroughs for the election of their Deputies in Parliament…[and that therefore] This present Parliament be dissolved, that the people do of course chuse themselves a Parliament once in two years, and, that the power of this, and all future representatives of this nation, is inferior only to theirs who chuse them’.66 The Agreement also calls for religious toleration, abolishment of military conscription, and equality under the law.67 In response to the success of the Levellers in promoting their ideas for constitutional reform, the General Council of the Army decided to facilitate a series of debates at Putney in order to resolve the dispute between the Agitators and the Grandees in the Independent faction – namely Cromwell and Ireton.

On the 28th October 1647, the Putney debates commenced. Ireton fired the first salvo in the debate, directing his fire at the universal manhood suffrage clause.68 Ireton argued that ‘natural right’ was an undefinable concept and thus could not be used to justify a widening of the franchise.69 Cromwell chimed in with a fierce denunciation of the Agreement document; labelling the Levellers anarchists, he railed against the ‘very great alterations of the government of England’.70 The next day, Ireton continued his unrelenting rhetorical offensive against the principle of universal manhood suffrage. For Ireton, the granting of

the vote to the unpropertied would lead to the inexorable path of abolishing property.71 Furthermore, this flouted one of the fundamental laws of the country, which was that only those with ‘a permanent fixed interest in this Kingedome – landowners and merchants – should have a voice in electing the members of Parliament.’72 Responding to Ireton’s attack on universal manhood suffrage was Colonel Thomas Rainsborough. Rainsborough launched an impassioned defence of the principle of universal male suffrage saying, ‘that the poorest he that is in England hath a life to live, as the greatest he; and therefore truly, I do think that the poorest man in England is not at all bond in a strict sense to that government that he hath not had a voice to put himself under’.73 At the end of the debates, the army’s General Council made a tactical compromise with the Levellers: those who had fought against the king should have vote regardless of their social status.74 Only servants and beggars, who lived under their masters’ roof, and those who were dependent on alms, would be excluded.75 Cromwell, wishing to avert a total defeat, moved for an eighteen man committee of Grandees and Agitators to review the General Council’s recommendations.76 The committee’s final draft was an amalgamation of the Levellers’ Agreement and the Grandees’ Heads of the Proposals.77 The draft rejected the Levellers’ revolutionary concept of a written constitution brought into being by the signatures of the people; yet it did embrace the concept of powers reserved from Parliament – religion, impressment and indemnity.

66

71

67

72

Wolfe, Leveller Manifestos, pp. 226-7.

Ibid.

68 Aylmer, The Levellers, p. 97.

69 Ibid.

70 M. Mendle, The Putney Debates of 1647: The Army, The Levellers and the English State (Cambridge, 2001), p. 151.

Ibid. p. 152.

Ibid.

73 Manning, English People, p. 416.

74 Mendle, Putney Debates of 1647, p. 152.

75 Ibid. p. 153.

76 Ibid.

77 Ibid.

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drawn up.83 The Remonstrance of the Army document written by Ireton indicates his acceptance of the Levellers’ agenda: biennial Parliaments, a constitution based on an agreement of the people, and the acceptance of Leveller principle of the sovereignty of the people.84

Furthermore, the House of Commons would become more powerful, despite remaining within the framework of a tripartite Parliament.78 McPherson asserts that the Levellers were never true democrats, because they abdicated on the principle of universal manhood suffrage at Putney.79 Yet, this seems a rather quaint argument to make, for the price one pays for engaging in the democratic process is the compromising of certain principles. It detracts from the success the Levellers made at Putney as a relatively new movement, who only possessed the power of protest. However, the Levellers did not emerge from Putney completely unscathed. The charge levelled by Cromwell that they were anarchists, and Ireton’s insinuation that they were communists, damaged the movement in the long-term, according to Michael Mendle.80 Nevertheless, the Levellers had changed the tenor of the English Revolution, not just by empowering the Commons further, but by pushing conservatives, such as Ireton and Cromwell, down a more radical path than they had anticipated.

The confusion that emerged from the Second Civil War in 1648 changed the political dynamic in England. The Independents were isolated by the Presbyterians. Sensing a chance to change the dynamic, Cromwell asked Lilburne to join the Independents in crafting a new constitutional settlement.81 Cromwell insisted, however, that the king and the Presbyterians be purged, and only then could a constitutional settlement be agreed.82 This time it was Lilburne who was the pragmatist: he argued that the king must remain alive so that safeguards against a military dictatorship be

The second Agreement of the People published between the Pride’s Purge and the execution of Charles I was a more moderate version of the original Agreement document,85 and was the result of a compromise between the Independents led by Ireton and the Levellers. It was a document that would shape the English polity for the next 12 years. The Levellers’ influence waned in the wake of Charles I’s execution on 30th January 1649.

This was inevitable, given that Lilburne was vehemently opposed to the direction the army and their Parliamentary allies were taking England. For Lilburne, England was replacing a tyrannical monarch with a tyrannical military dictator. Lilburne and his fellow Levellers produced a pamphlet titled England’s New

78

Ibid.

J.C. Davis, ‘The Levellers and Democracy’, Past and Present 40 (1968), pp. 174-80.

80 Ibid. p. 152.

81 Shaw, Levellers, p. 72.

82 Ibid.

79

83

Ibid.

Ibid. p. 73.

85 Aylmer, Rebellion, p. 100.

84

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life in the late 1640s.87 However, the evidence put forth in this article indicates the Levellers were far more influential in the English political process than they are given credit for.

The shift in the Independents’ and the Grandees’ political orientation, though tactical to some extent, was also the result of pressure exerted on them by the Levellers. Furthermore, the Levellers were able to engage the people through their active political campaigning, demonstrated by the acclamation shown towards John Lilburne after his acquittal in 1649. The Levellers demonstrated that a radical protest movement can induce profound changes within the formal political process.

The flame of English progressivism was lit by the Levellers – one hopes that flame is still flickering today.

Chains. This polemical attack on the Rump Parliament and on the hypocrisy of Cromwell, initiated a severe response by the newly formed Protectorate. On the 28th March 1649, Lilburne, Overton, and Walwyn were arrested.86 With no allies left in the Rump Parliament, and the army totally subjugated to Cromwell’s leadership. The Leveller movement slowly disintegrated.

Though the Levellers never attained formal political power, their influence on the political process between 1647 and 1649 cannot be underestimated. The ideas that the Levellers originally proposed of constitutional reform and the purging of Parliament had been accomplished – albeit not by them directly.

The Levellers were able to use the uncertainty that had emerged from the end of the First Civil War to push their agenda, whilst the Independents who were reluctant initially to accept the extension of the suffrage put forward by the Levellers, agreed to it in December 1648. Historians have minimised the influence the Levellers had on English political 86

87

Aylmer, The Levellers, p. 45.

21

Ibid. p. 139.

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Darwin and Darwinism: More than a scientific theory Edward Jones Charles Darwin is today a household name after gaining fame for his theory of evolution presented in On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection.88 His theory that creatures that develop attributes better suited to their environment survive while those with attributes less well-suited to their environment die out – natural selection – has shaped the field of biology. Later discoveries, such as DNA and genetics, are a consequence of and reinforce Darwin’s theory. Darwin’s name remains so well-known to this day, while those of other scientists, writers, and thinkers of his age have largely been forgotten by the public.

This is because the implications of Darwin’s work go far beyond the field of biology:

debates in the nineteenth century and still carry on to this day. Darwinism influenced and was influenced by the liberal philosophy of the era, reinforcing it to the extent that it has shaped attitudes and thinking up to this day. This is why A. N. Wilson concluded that Darwinism ‘was the theory by which that [Victorian] generation was defining itself.’89 This in turn saw Darwin’s work influence contemporary politics: the roots of Liberal Imperialism and Nazi social policies are based on Darwinian philosophy. In this way, Darwinism is more than just a scientific theory: it has shaped our history, our politics and the way we still see our world today.

Evolution is often pitted against creationism in an overarching discourse between secularism and religion. It is a debate that carries on in some parts of America today, as conservative Christians fight to have Creationism taught in school syllabi alongside, or instead of, evolution.90 Although the idea of evolution predated Darwin’s work, his development and popularisation of the theory has secured his place as the enemy who most embodies this ‘sacrilegious’ theory – at least for some. It is a debate we saw here at Exeter University last spring as the Debating Society contested the notion “This House believes in the existence of God”.

Indeed, similar charges were brought against Darwin’s evolutionary ideas when they were first published. The famous Oxford debate between Bishop Wilberforce and T. H.

‘evolution by natural selection’ deals with the nature of all things on this planet.

Consequently Darwin’s work has had repercussions on religion that evoked strong

89

A. N. Wilson, The Victorians (London, 2003), p. 98.

For instance, P. Harris ‘Four US states considering laws that challenge teaching of evolution’, the Guardian [online] (2013); R. MacKie, ‘US Schools Ban Darwin from Class’, The Guardian [online] (2002).

90

88

C. R. Darwin, The Origin of Species: By means of natural selection (London, 1859).

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Huxley is perhaps the most notable instance of this debate taking place. Wilberforce asked whether he was related to a monkey on his grandmother or his grandfather’s side, to which Huxley responded he would rather be related to an ape than a man who ridiculed science, such as Wilberforce.91 The reaction of Darwin’s challenge to Creationism was a reversion to religious fundamentalism – a belief in the literal truth of the Bible. Although belief that the world was unchanged since creation only dated back to the Renaissance, it was this belief to which many rallied.92 Yet not all of Darwin’s contemporaries thought that you could only either believe in Darwin or God, and although Darwin himself had doubts that haunted him for the rest of his life, he was by no means a committed atheist.

Revd. Charles Kingsley wrote to Darwin to congratulate him on the publication of On the Origin of Species.93 Kingsley embraced the idea of change and improvement, seeing the need for species to improve by evolutionary development as comparable to the need for mankind’s moral improvement by the teachings of Jesus. Indeed the majority of scientists continued to believe in God.94 A certain harmony might be found between evolution and religion. New research at Michigan State University95 has shown that evolution favours co-operation over selfishness and exploitation, a lesson which is widely found in Christian teaching.96 Therefore

Biblical lessons do not necessarily contradict Nature, but lay out a path for human survival and prosperity in accordance with evolutionary development. Evolution by means of natural selection challenges Creationism, but not necessarily all religion. Indeed, the Christian philosopher St. Augustine, whose ideas underpinned many medieval theocratic states, acknowledged some form of evolution. St. Augustine saw God as having scattered the seeds of life in the environment from which it might grow and develop.97 Darwin saw man as a moral creature who had developed from a merely social creature, a view strengthened by Michigan State University’s research that identifies social relations as that which makes co-operation more profitable than selfishness.

Evolution therefore promotes morality. Natural selection puts morality at one with death, that cruel part of Nature that caused many to lose their faith. Death is the means by which natural selection takes place; therefore death promotes the progress of the man that remains. In Darwin’s words, ‘from the war of nature, from famine and death, the most exalted object which we are capable of conceiving, namely the promotion of higher animals, directly follows.’98 A more in-depth theological study of the relationship between evolution and religion is beyond the scope of this article, but the point stands that they are not mutually exclusive.

The problem was not so much theological as political: the Church was a conservative establishment. The idea that the world remained exactly as God had first created it was more in keeping with a Burkean belief that things should be kept as they are as what is oldest is best, rather than any intrinsic

91

Wilson, The Victorians, p. 228.

Ibid. p. 229.  Revd. Charles Kingsley (1819-1875), from Devon, was a Professor of Modern History at Cambridge University before serving as Canon of Westminster Abbey. He is perhaps best known as author of The Water-Babies (1863).

94 Wilson, The Victorians, p. 232.

95 ‘Selfish traits not favoured by evolution, study shows’, BBC News 02/08/2013.

96 For example, “Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others”, The Bible: Revised Standard Version, Philippians 2: 4-5.

92



I restrict my analysis here to Christianity for lack of sufficient knowledge in other religions and to limit the scope of this article.

97 St. Augustine, The Literal Meaning of Genesis (415).

98 Darwin, The Origin of Species, p. 490.

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part of Christian theology. A sympathetic article in the Church Times stated that ‘[e]volution undermined the vision of a happy, ordered, static world, ordained by God.’99 That is a vision not central to Christianity, but of the nineteenth-century conservatism that governed the Church. The contemporary religious backlash against Darwinism might thus be interpreted as more of a backlash against change brought on by the economic liberalism of the age, than against Darwin per se.

In this light, over time, elements of the Church have come to accept Darwinism without denying the existence of God. Pope Pius XII officially denied theological contradiction with evolution in 1950.100 Where the Church has accepted evolution, the institution has evolved in a progressive manner. Rejection of fundamentalist and puritanical positions, so evinced by antiDarwin reactionism, in favour of progression of theology is seen by many as the key to the continued relevance, and thus survival, of the Church in the modern world. Early indications show the new Pope Francis I taking this approach, with his softening attitude to homosexuality to wide external praise.101 If the impact of Darwinism on religion was then one of progress versus conservatism, then it undoubtedly embodied the progressive

liberal political and economic philosophy of the age. In the same year that On the Origin of Species was published, 1859, John Stuart Mill published his essay On Liberty. Perhaps the most important work of liberal philosophy, On Liberty argued that people should be free to do as they wish as long as it does not harm others – self-protection being the only end that warranted interference in another’s liberty.102 Parallels can be drawn between Mill’s case for freedom of speech and Darwin’s natural selection. Mill believed that people should be free to challenge ideas and propose new ones so that the fittest of them may survive. Those ideas that contain half-truths must have the falsehoods chipped away from them. In the world of free opinions, the fittest ideas, or ‘experiments of living’, might be proved and the most popular survive.103 Progress through struggle underpins both ideas.

Published at the same time, there is little chance that one idea could have influenced the other, but it shows how the idea of the “survival of the fittest” (a phrase itself only later coined by Herbert Spencer)104 was dominant in the age, and Darwin’s work embodied it most. Both ideas are progressive in that they see an ever-changing world developing for the better, whether by competition of ideas allowing for the progression of society, or by competition of creatures’ characteristics allowing the biological progression of species.

Though not influencing each other directly, both Darwin and Mill were influenced

by Adam Smith. Smith’s work proposed the same idea in the economic domain: in the free market the most successful business will thrive and poorer ones fail.105 Consumer demand



Edmund Burke’s work in Reflections on the Revolution in France is seen as the philosophy underpinning British Conservatism. Burke argued that as existing institutions and practices have stood the test of time, they should be conserved. Men, with short life-times, should not overturn ideas that have had a far greater lifetime.

Continuity and traditions should thus be maintained.

99 Spencer, N., ‘The Window that Darwin Opened’, Church Times, 06/02/2009.

100 Pius XII, Humani Generis, some false opinions threatening to undermine the foundation of Catholic doctrine [Encyclical] (Vatican City, 1950), p. 21.

101 For instance, Ben Bradshaw MP tweeted: “Am liking Pope Francis and @ABCJustin [Archbishop of Canterbury Justin Welby] more & more. Religious leaders fit for their time.” (30/07/2013); BBC News, ‘Pope Francis: Who am I to judge gay people?’

(29/07/2013).

102

J. S. Mill, On Liberty & Other Essays (Oxford, 2008), p. 137.

103 Ibid. p. 63.

104 H. Spencer, Principles of Biology (London, 1864).

105 A. Smith, The Wealth of Nations (London, 1776).

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replaces environment as that to which a product or service must be tailored; competition between business for this demand replaces population pressure that forces creatures into competition with one another.

Just as Smith’s “hidden hand” of the market guides economic development as only those businesses best adapted to consumer demand remain and flourish, so too, did Darwin see the hidden hand of nature guiding biological evolution, as the creatures best adapted to their environment survived. Economic progress results from the innovation required to get ahead of rivals, while biological progress is

within society, could be at different stages of a progressive evolutionary development. Some used it as scientific proof that Western society was more ‘advanced’ along the evolutionary road than others.

Social Darwinism thus fed into the justifications and reasons for imperial expansion: Britain could benefit other peoples by ‘civilising’ them. From this came the mantra of the New Imperialism of the late nineteenth century – ‘commerce, Christianity and civilisation.’106 Although Britain’s imperial history can be traced to seventeenth-century commercial aspirations, a conscious expansionist foreign policy was pursued by the 1874-1880 Conservative government of Benjamin Disraeli, who tried to stir nationalistic sentiment, or jingoism, amongst the newly expanded electorate to garner favour for his party. This was a policy largely opposed by the Liberals, particularly William Gladstone; but a mission of civilising lesser peoples now came to appeal to many Liberals’ progressivism. Liberal Imperialism drove the vast expansion of the British Empire from 1870 to 1900, as British imperialists sought to improve colonised societies (be this progress or paternalism).

This effect of Social Darwinism on liberal British political figures can be highlighted in the case of Sir Evelyn Baring (later Lord Cromer), the infamous High Commissioner of Egypt from 1883-1907.

Baring started his career as a committed free trade Liberal and anti-imperialist, even believing that Britain should give independence to the jewel in the crown of her empire, India. Yet his belief that India had to be ‘prepared’ for self-government by Britain displays the Social Darwinist tendencies in his

Adam Smith

made by mutations (innovations) that get one ahead of rivals. Laissez-faire, in social or economic matters, allows progress through natural selection.

If Smith represents economic liberalism, and Mill social liberalism, it may be said that Darwin represents biological liberalism. Yet his idea is far more important as it concerns the nature of all life itself. Mill and Smith’s works come under the umbrella of Darwinian progress – progress through survival of the fittest.

Darwinism also became influential in social philosophy: Social Darwinism, as the name suggests, transferred evolutionary principles popularised by Darwin to society. It saw that different societies, or different groups

106

A phrase coined by David Livingstone: F. Nkmomazana, ‘Livingstone’s ideas of Christianity, commerce and civilisation’, Botswana Journal of African Studies 12/1&2 (1998), pp. 44-57.

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progressive beliefs. Progress was unidimensional, and foreign societies needed guidance to reach the Western ‘standard’ of civilisation and modernity in the evolutionary hierarchy before being ready for self-rule. It was this strand of his belief that turned him from an opponent of intervention in Egypt, to reluctant occupier, and then to becoming a committed imperialist. Baring came to hold the view that as long as there was reforming work to be done in Egypt in order for the country to ‘evolve’ to the Western standard, continued occupation was justified. Spreading liberalism and civilisation was the justification for imperialism: Egypt was ‘not civilised enough to work by itself.’107 The irony is that all this came from a man who went to great efforts to dispute racism as a foundation of imperialism.108 Some years later, the same Social Darwinian views can be witnessed in the practices of Sir John Bagot Glubb, commander of the Trans-Jordanian Arab League. Glubb was known to ‘examine’ his Arab soldiers in a quasi-scientific manner, measuring the diameter of the heads and taking other notes about their physical appearance, studying the evolutionary progress of the ‘backward’, lowly Arabs.

However, Social Darwinism was to take a far more disturbing form. In 1860 Herbert Spencer had compared society to a living organism, arguing that society could evolve through natural selection just as an organism would.109 This might suggest a laissez-faire approach to welfare, allowing the weak (the poor) to die off and the strong (the rich) to multiply. This influenced the work of

Francis Galton who suggested that state policies should advance and aid social Darwinian evolution. He pioneered the idea of ‘eugenics’, which he defined as ‘the study of all agencies under human control which can improve or impair racial quality of future generations’. For the cause of eugenics, policies including selective-breeding, sterilisation and euthanasia were suggested.

While eugenics was an influential area of study in both Britain and the United States "This person suffering from hereditary defects costs the community 60,000 Reichsmarks during his lifetime. Fellow German, that is your money, too."

(Churchill attend the first Eugenics Conference in London and later New York), the most notable impact of eugenics on policy was in Nazi Germany. The concept that different racial groups held different worth fuelled the Nazi attack on Slavs, gypsies and Jews, amongst others, who were deemed “degenerate”, as they were not the ‘fittest’, and it was not their place to survive. In policy terms, these ideas led to the T4 euthanasia

107

Baring as quoted in R. C. Mowat, ‘From Liberalism to Imperialism: The Case of Egypt 1875-1887’, The Historical Journal 16/1 (1973), p. 120.

108 First Earl of Cromer, Evelyn Baring, Ancient and Modern Imperialism (New York, 1910).

109 H. Spencer, Principles of Biology (London, 1864).

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programme, which resulted in the murder of millions.

With such an impact on religion, philosophy and politics, Wilson is quite right in his claim that Darwinism defined the Victorian Age in which it was conceived, and its legacy continues to shape thinking today. Natural selection explained biological evolution and so popularised a once marginal idea.110 This prompted theological and political development in the Church of England and to some extent in the Church of Rome. Evolution by natural selection unified progressive ideas in politics and economics. This showed how it affected all parts of life and seemingly proved its universal truth: each branch of liberal progressivism, economic, political and biological, supported the others. This is why liberal ideology still holds so much influence in the West today. However, Social Darwinism and eugenics have largely been thrown into the dustbin of history, primarily because of the horrors it inspired in Nazi Germany. Today, egalitarian liberalism strongly rejects eugenic theories. Nevertheless, the great extent of Darwin’s influence is clear: Darwinism is more than just a theory of concern for only biologists, for it has affected our religion, our philosophy, our politics and the way we see the world to this day.

110

Wilson, The Victorians, p. 98.

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The Universal Short Title Catalogue Project: A unique resource for researchers of the early modern period Arthur der Weduwen For almost seven weeks this summer, I had the pleasure of working as an intern at the Universal Short Title Catalogue (USTC) project at the University of St Andrews. In this reflective review, I would like to introduce the project and outline its extensive uses for any researcher of the early modern period, whilst looking back at my time in St Andrews and hopefully giving some advice to other students on the joys of quantitative historical research.

Directed by Professor Andrew Pettegree at St Andrews, the USTC is an electronic collective database of all books printed in Europe between the invention of print and the beginning of the seventeenth century. Whilst the database is comprised of just over 358,000 identified editions of books, the project began with much smaller ambitions.

A survey of French religious books in the Reformation period snowballed into the enormous undertaking that the USTC has become today. Founded on a solid base of fieldwork in French libraries, a survey of French books was completed in 2007. After this the project’s team decided to expand and venture into the book worlds of other European countries that lacked a comprehensive survey of early printed materials – most notably Spain, Portugal, and the Low Countries. Other countries with extensive print cultures, such as Germany and Italy, and on a much smaller scale England, were already covered by national bibliographies, and therefore required less fieldwork. Instead the project began to focus on the incorporation of available data from the European continent as a whole, presenting it on a single, accessible platform.

This was successfully achieved with the launch of the USTC in 2011, which has since provided a unique aid to the research of anyone who has an interest in the early modern period.

For example, through the USTC one can discover exactly how many recorded editions of Aristotle’s Nichomachean Ethics were

printed in Italy before the sixteenth century (four), to what extent the assassination of the Duke of Guise (in 1588) excited interest in various countries, how many recorded editions of military handbooks were printed in the Low Countries in the sixteenth century (fifty-two), and how the spread of print throughout Europe affected the publication of books in different languages (for example Breton, Welsh, or Croatian). The search engine of the USTC allows intricate searches based on author, date, title, imprint, format, subject, and language, thereby catering to the individual research needs of any scholar. In addition to this, the USTC provides information on the location of copies of editions in libraries around the world, so that users know precisely where to find the copies that they want to investigate. It also features over 40,000 free-access digital copies of editions.

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similar or identical tasks as the interns – allows for an increased productivity and mutual comprehension of the data and its context.

As with any successful project eyes are ever on the future. Due to notable successive grants from the Arts and Humanities Research Council, the USTC has been able to increase its coverage of early printed works to include the first half of the seventeenth century (16001650), which will mark a significant addition to the database. Furthermore, the USTC is occupied with the collation of printed works not covered in national bibliographies, such as the German VD16 and 17, and the Italian Edit16 and 17. Lastly, the project is receiving an increasing number of digital copies from various libraries across the world, as many are digitising their collections, which staff members then seek to match with existing records in the USTC to increase the number of digital copies available online.

The USTC project team is constituted of several full-time staff members and PhD students, who have various fields of expertise within the early modern period. In addition, last summer the USTC project hosted a group of interns to aid the data-gathering and refinement of the project for a period of six to eight weeks. This scheme was successful and was continued this year, when I was fortunate to be able to experience the day-to-day work of this dedicated group that has been essential to the successful completion of the USTC. Each intern was given a range of tasks based on their interests and proficiencies, largely concerned with data refinement. These tasks allowed each intern to familiarise themselves with raw data from specific topics, such as the publication of Lutheran prints in Reformation Germany, newspapers from the Low Countries, or Italian legal documents. Many interns did this in conjunction with research for their respective postgraduate projects, thereby creating a mutually-beneficial process. Moreover, the cohesive nature of the project team – the fulltime members of staff are occupied with

Dat beleg der stadt van Weenen in Oostenrijck vanden vervaarlicken tyran ende verderver der christenheyt den turcschen keyser, 1528

In addition to the data-gathering and analysis, the project organises a yearly conference on the history of print in order to bring together leading scholars to discuss developments in the field of book history, often made possible by the work of the USTC. This year the sixth annual conference had as its central theme ‘International Exchange in the European Book World’. Many insightful papers were delivered by a range of scholars from different fields of expertise – military history, classical literature, early modern politics, English literature, music, and theatre, to give some examples.

Furthermore, the conference also saw the presentation of the second version of the USTC search engine. This improved version, 29

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which went online in September, has an updated search engine with greater range and speed, enabling more detailed and comprehensive results in a matter of seconds.

History has been challenged in the past by postmodernism and its rejection of ‘traditional’ research methods relying on an empiricist basis of quantitative analysis.

However, the USTC demonstrates that research based on quantitative data can indeed provide excellent qualitative insights into the history of printed materials. The joys of working with the USTC stem for a large part also from the fact that one can interact directly with an enormous quantity of sources, which can endow the attentive scholar with knowledge of social, economic or political history. The data can be subjected to a variety of limitless questions, thereby enabling a greater understanding of past practices and changes. Quantitative databased research has not succumbed to methodological developments, and projects like the USTC demonstrate that it will neither do so in the future.

To conclude, the greatest value of the USTC lies in the limitless applications of the data that it contains. Whatever one may be looking for, be it polemical pamphlets in the Low Countries, sheets of music printed Italy, or religious tracts from Switzerland, the USTC can provide an insight into the wealth of history and the shared European culture of knowledge that has provided a foundation for the continent for over half a millennium.

Warhafftige vnd eigentliche beschreibung, von der Geburt, Leben vnd Sterben desz Printzen von Orangien, 1584

The USTC can be accessed freely on www.ustc.ac.uk.

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Mussolini, the Mafia, and the Iron Prefect: Assessing the effectiveness of the Fascist campaign to eradicate the Cosa Nostra in Sicily, 1922-29 Louis Jones distant and backward South. However, this apathy unequivocally ceased after Mussolini took power in 1922.112 The Mafia had for all intents and purposes its own rule of law and so Mussolini, affronted by the idea that his authority was being undermined, initiated a campaign to eradicate the syndicate.113 In 1925 he appointed policeman Cesare Mori as Prefect to head the operation and gave him sweeping powers to attack the Mafia.114 In less than three years Mori arrested over 11,000 people and suspected Mafiosi were convicted en masse in show trials.115 With a reputation for tough justice, Mori earned the moniker of ‘Iron Prefect’ but was recalled by Mussolini in 1929 – perhaps for investigating too far into certain politically relevant persons – and it was declared that the Mafia had been defeated.116 This paper will put forward the proposition that Mussolini's campaign against the Mafia was effective and remains the most comprehensive assault against the syndicate to date. The return of the Mafia to Sicily can be attributed to the collapse of the fascist regime rather than intrinsic frailties with the crackdown. Furthermore, it was equally important for Mussolini that the campaign appeared to be effective. Like many twentiethcentury dictators, propaganda played a large role in all of Mussolini’s policies, even if certain aspects of the crackdown were

Introduction and Overview The Mafia is one of Italy’s most infamous exports. Popular culture has more recently focused on Italian-American crime, but interest in the Mafia is not limited to North America; many Italian films such as 1977’s ‘Il Prefetto di Ferro’ have focused specifically on the Fascist crackdown on the Sicilian Mafia, or the Cosa Nostra. The very colour of the mafia which attracts Hollywood continues to loom rather too large over the people of Italy.

Running the criminal underworld and infiltrating business, the media and politics; it has been estimated that Mafia undertakings account for around 7% of Italy’s GDP, meaning illegal activities represent the largest segment of the economy.111 Such organised crime can trace its roots back to the mid-nineteenth century in poor rural areas of Italy. Within a relatively short period of time, the Mafia, as it became known,

had fully established itself as a part of ordinary Sicilian life. In 1861 Italy became a unified country, but the early liberal governments tended to hold a Northern bias and failed to tackle a problem they saw as unique to the 111

112

D. Smith, Mussolini (London, 1981), p. 93.

Omertà is the cultural attitude which dictates Mafia behaviour.

114 J. Dickie, Cosa Nostra: a History of the Sicilian Mafia (London, 2004), p. 153.

115 Ibid. p. 156.

116 A. Stille, Excellent Cadavers (London, 1995), p. 17.

113

The New York Times, 22 Oct. 2007.

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branded to prevent theft.120 Thousands were arrested and sentenced en masse in show trials.

The purpose of these trials was twofold: firstly, they were a cost-effective way of prosecuting large groups of suspects, and secondly, they were an effective propaganda tool, making headlines across the world and sustaining Mussolini’s international 121 reputation. The state was comfortable with prosecuting large numbers and not especially concerned whether innocents were involved; guilt was often assumed, rulings were harsh, and extremely long prison sentences were imposed on the defendants.122 There is speculation regarding whether Mori used extrajudicial methods to gain evidence, with some historians claiming Mori tortured suspects for information.123 Although there is little solid evidence of such acts, it is said that Mori reintroduced the cassetta, a wooden box to which a prisoner was secured while he was flogged.124 Michele Pantaleone, a Cosa Nostra

ineffective, the Fascist propaganda machine still had ample fuel to compensate for these failures.

The fight against the Mafia It seems appropriate that we start our discussion with the man to whom Mussolini delegated power: Cesare Mori, the Iron Prefect.

Although highly praised at the time, Italians today have regarded Mori as somewhat of an anti-hero, whose morally ambiguous methods were justified when appreciating the greater evil he was fighting. Mori is still nostalgically recalled by those who see the answer to Sicily’s problems in resolute police action.117 Yet many Italians are conflicted; simultaneously holding contempt for Fascism and respect for Mori. As a result, Mori tends to be perceived as a policeman first, and a Fascist second.118 The Prefect had a complex, multifaceted plan which involved not only law enforcement but also social reforms intended to turn Sicilians against the Mafia. Mori created a highly mobile interprovincial police force which was unhindered by considerations of provincial jurisdiction. The results of such reform were highlighted by Mori’s attack on the town of Gangi – a notorious Mafia stronghold. Mori laid siege to Gangi, forcing all Mafiosi into hiding, and then slaughtered allegedly stolen cattle and sold the meat to the villagers at bankrupt prices. The Mafiosi gave themselves up and the local peasants helped round up those who fled. The town’s Don hanged himself in shame once arrested.119 To complement the siege of Gangi, all official documents needed photographs and cattle were

A show trial involving 157 Mafiosi at the height of the operation, 1927.

120

Ibid. pp. 161-4.

J. Whittam, Fascist Italy (Manchester, 1995), p. 44.

122 J. E. Reece, ‘Fascism, the Mafia, and the Emergence of Sicilian Separatism (1919-43)’ The Journal of Modern History 45 (1973), p. 269.

123 D. Dolci, Racconti Siciliani (Palermo, 2008), p. 79.

124 T. Newark, Mafia Allies: The True Story of America's Secret Alliance with the Mob in World War II (Minneapolis, 2007), p. 35.

121

117

C. Duggan, Fascism and the Mafia (London, 1989), p. x.

118 Ibid. p. 123.

119 C. Mori, The last struggle with the Mafia, translated

by O. Williams (London, 1933), pp. 70-1.

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democracy.130 These techniques would be unacceptable in the present day, but nonetheless, this does not debase Mori’s success. Mori led a questionable, but ultimately effective, campaign against the Mafia and in his memoir audaciously claimed that ‘[t]he struggle with the Mafia was fought to a finish for the first time under the Fascist regime’.131 Beyond this rhetoric, the success of the campaign is also backed up by statistics.

Mori’s campaign reduced crime exponentially: From 1925, homicides, kidnappings, robbery, blackmail and cattle theft all dropped to levels near zero in Palermo alone.132 However, the accuracy of statistics assembled at the time has been questioned. The notion of totalitarian states altering statistical information is not an

expert and investigative journalist, is one the most vocal critics, alleging that ‘[e]vidence was obtained with repellent cynicism, and nearly always consisted of a confession extracted after hours, often days, of medieval torture.’125 Mussolini had subdued the Mafia, albeit at a moral cost.

As the campaign started to reach the higher ranks of the Mafia, and even Mussolini’s own party – Deputy Alfredo Cucco was expelled from the FNP for connections to the Mafia – Mori became a victim of his own success.126 When powerful regime-supporting landowners and the Palermitan aristocracy started to be targeted, Mori was promptly dismissed.127 Ever the pragmatist, Mussolini realised their support was more crucial than an idealistic crusade.

Cesare Mori Aftermath and interpretation By operating in a totalitarian state, Mori was able to suppress the Mafia more effectively than anyone else has done before or, arguably, since. Mori admired Mussolini’s dynamism and was willing to bend the law in order to achieve victory.128 In Mori’s words: ‘For my own part, though in these matters I respect the sanctity of law, I am, and have always been, for granting free initiative, naturally within the limits of the law, but regarding the law as a guiding principle, not as an obstacle to action.’129 Mori saw Fascism as a chance to achieve results that had been previously unobtainable due to the red tape of

unfamiliar one, whether it is low-ranking bureaucrats with targets to meet, or the regime tweaking statistics for propaganda purposes.

Indeed, the numbers are extraordinary: a 99.55% drop in homicides, for example, seems

125

M. Pantaleone, The Mafia and politics (New York, 1966), p. 49.

126 Reece, ‘Fascism, the Mafia’, p. 266.

127 R. Catanzaro, ‘Enforcers, Entrepreneurs, and Survivors: How the Mafia Has Adapted to Change’ The British Journal of Sociology 36 (1985), p. 45.

128 Newark, Mafia Allies, p. 27.

129 Mori, The last struggle, p. 154.

130

J. Dickie, Mafia Brotherhoods: The Rise of the Italian Mafias (London, 2011), p. 173.

131 Mori, The last struggle, p. 155.

132 Ibid. p. 223.

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implausible.133 Police reports from the time place an emphasis on low-level crime and omit crimes such as corruption and political bribery – for which the Mafia is famed.134 However, appreciating that 1920s Sicily was no bastion of forward-thinking modernism and technology, the campaign can be forgiven if the numbers don’t quite add up. Even leaving a significant margin for error, Mussolini’s clampdown can still warrant praise.

Historiography on the period is limited, especially in the English language. Despite being small in number, interpretations vary greatly in attitude and there is no universal academic agreement on the effectiveness of Mussolini’s campaign. Marxists writing in the 1960s, such as Eric Hobsbawm, placed the Mafia in the context of social rebellion, seeing the Mafia as peasants suppressed by distant governments and feudal regimes.135 For Hobsbawm, the rise of the Mafia marked the transfer of power from feudalism to the rural middle class.136 Whilst being careful not to create a false dichotomy, one cannot be surprised to hear that Hobsbawm gave little praise towards a campaign conceived by a party holding a political ideology which is the very antithesis to his. To Hobsbawm’s credit, he does admit that the Mafia was deprived of power for a small period of time but concludes that the organisation ‘re-emerged happily’ after the war.137 Hobsbawm’s conclusions in no way make him a scholastic pariah. Although most contemporary sources suggest the crackdown on the Mafia was a success, due to the nature of a totalitarian state, the vast body of criticism

did not materialise until after the Second World War. The re-emergence of a black market during the Allied occupation of Italy in the 1940s was a sign that the Mafia had returned, and over time Mussolini’s campaign was retrospectively criticised as ineffectual in the long-term.138 According to R.J.B. Bosworth, the general historical consensus on the topic is that a regime which only lasted a generation was too superficial and fleeting in its authority to amend the long-standing traditions of Sicilian peasant life.139 In a narrow sense it is easy to accept the above argument which states that the very existence of the modern-day Mafia undermines any declaration that Mussolini’s campaign was a success. This is of course true – the Mafia was not permanently eradicated – but, if we were to apply the same logic to another example we could equally say that ex-New York mayor Rudy Giuliani was unsuccessful in combating crime in his city, despite the fact that he reduced crime significantly. Furthermore, it seems both anachronistic and arbitrary to hold the Fascists responsible for what is happening over half a century after they lost power; subsequent incumbent governments may also have a duty to tackle the Mafia. As a result, Hobsbawm’s criticism lacks persuasion.

Despite the harsh police measures taken against the Mafia, it would be unwise to suggest that the campaign was a onedimensional attack on surface-level crime.

Mori awarded campiere – civilian field guards who were often corrupted by the Mafia – medals for loyal service to the state. Aware of the problem of Sicilians legitimising Mafia actions, Mori had 1,300 campiere swear their allegiance to the state in large public

133

Ibid.

Ibid, p. 180.

135 E. Hobsbawm, Primitive Rebels; Studies in Archaic Forms of Social Movements in the 19th and 20th Centuries (London, 1965), p. 36.

136 Ibid. p. 38.

137 Ibid. p. 47.

134

138

Duggan, Fascism and the Mafia, p. 271.

R. J. B. Bosworth, The Italian Dictatorship: Problems and Perspectives in the Interpretation of Mussolini and Fascism (New York, 1998), p. 139.

139

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ceremonies.140 Mori saw himself as something of a maverick, experimental with his methods and actions in fighting crime. Appreciating the context of the era and the reputation of Fascism to prefer action over nuance, it would not be senseless to agree. Although show trials played a part, Mori considered winning the hearts and minds of ordinary Sicilians to be just as important. Mori saw his campaign as a combination of repression from above and popular assertion from below.141 What can be ascertained is that the campaign was far more sophisticated than anything seen before.

To strengthen the subscribed argument further we shall turn to the wave of

dominance of the Mafia in Sicily.143 Importantly, however, Hess concluded that the idea of a large criminal organisation called ‘the Mafia’ was a myth and that Sicilian crime had to be understood as a plethora of small, independent criminal groups.144 This raises the question of who the Fascists were actually fighting and, indeed, in what way such a question is relevant to our discussion. The most notable ‘history from below’ of the decade was anthropologist Anton Blok’s study of a Sicilian village, which spanned almost a hundred years.145 Agreeing with Hess’ definition of ‘the Mafia’, calling it a ‘legal fiction created from above’,146 Blok considered the Fascist crackdown to have been highly effective, whilst admitting that the structures of society that allowed the Mafia to flourish were not altered.147 It is not surprising that Blok holds the opinion he does; with the lower classes hit worst, at Blok’s level of study it would have seemed as though the Mafia had ceased to exist. Most importantly, however, these two historians’ observations about the meaning of the word ‘Mafia’ draw attention to the propaganda advantages of labelling mutually exclusive criminal bands as a sentient, hierarchical criminal organisation. Defeating an abhorrent entity as such is arguably far more remarkable than suppressing a few bands of peasant troublemakers – and so we can see that even the idea of ‘the Mafia’ could be exploited for Mussolini’s political ends.148

Mori awarding decorations to campiere. anthropologists and social historians from the 1970s, who re-examined the period after the Marxists.142 The German historian Henner Hess theorised that the Italian state, by asserting its monopoly on violence and demolishing the sub-cultural norms of society, played a large part in diminishing the

143

H. Hess, Mafia and Mafiosi: Origin, Power and Myth, translated by Ewald Osers (New York, 1998), p.

183.

144 Ibid. p. ix.

145 A. Blok, The Mafia of a Sicilian Village, 1860-1960: A Study of Violent Peasant Entrepreneurs (Oxford, 1974).

146 Ibid. p. 145.

147 Ibid. p. 186.

148 Duggan, Fascism and the Mafia, p. x.

140

Mori, The last struggle, p. 197.

Duggan, Fascism and the Mafia, p. 188-9.

142 Bosworth, Italian Dictatorship, p. 139.

141

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judge them: they realise how easy it is to be wise after the event.’149 Whilst this paper has reached such a conclusion, there are still many contentious issues. The topic would benefit from more works being published in both English and Italian with an aim to shed light on what is undoubtedly a fascinating, and unfortunately still relevant, point in history.

Conclusion It is clear from the above discussion that the campaign was systematic, wideranging and innovative. It seems that it was only with Fascism’s ruthless authority that the Mafia could be suppressed. Some issues remain, such as Mori’s dismissal – a clear sign that there was a political limit to the extent to which the campaign would be tolerated. Yet we have seen that the purpose of moving against the Mafia was not only to reduce crime – it was also an unrivalled manufacturer of state propaganda which solidified Mussolini’s domestic autonomy and international reputation. These opportunities made the whole operation effective in a holistic fashion, providing something more than a quantified reduction in crime. Furthermore, re-examining the word ‘Mafia’ has shown how the state exploited the public’s conscience to its advantage.

If we look at the history of the Mafia, it seems as though Mussolini’s campaign had no long-standing success. However, if we view the campaign relative to Mussolini’s time in power, then it looks considerably more impressive. Mori’s methods may reflect many of the horrors Fascism committed elsewhere, but for risk of committing a (forgivable) generic fallacy, this cannot be the basis upon which we assess the objective effectiveness of the campaign. The facts tell us that it was pragmatic, used the tools it had available, and reduced crime. Although the Mafia was indeed suppressed, and not eradicated, with a longer time frame this may have been realised. A fragile state recovering from the devastation of the Second World War simply could not achieve this. For these reasons, the resurgence of the Mafia after the war is for the most part irrelevant, and an appropriate response to such criticism could use the Iron Prefect’s own words: ‘Men of action make facts, but do not

149

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‘Bewitched’ and ‘Sortileges’: English Noblewomen and Witchcraft Conor Byrne The work of historians such as Anne Barstow has convincingly shown how the persecution of witchcraft was heavily influenced by beliefs about gender in the early modern period.

Stemming from Biblical beliefs and social mores that identified women as the more lustful, sexual, suspect and, in effect, evil sex, men persecuted witchcraft intensely in the late medieval and early modern periods out of a general fear of female powers and skills. They viewed with concern the threatened destruction of the patriarchal system essential to society.

The Malleus Maleficarum (1484)150, otherwise known as the Hammer of the Witches, demonstrated how deep male fear was that witches – primarily women, whose lust was viewed as being “insatiable” – would inflict impotence on men, even removing their genitals. Contemporary superstitions and fears meant that ‘universally, witches were decried for their excessive lust, for their aphrodisiacs, and for their poisons’.151 In this article I will suggest that the gendered crime of witchcraft was specifically used to damage prominent noblewomen at the English court through looking in detail at three case studies at different English kings’ courts. During the late Middle Ages, as the crime of witchcraft became more specific and more heavily persecuted in Europe as a whole, male courtiers in England decided to utilise a burgeoning fear of the supernatural among their contemporaries to destroy powerful women at court.

Accusing a powerful woman of witchcraft in medieval and early modern English society was a highly effective way of nullifying her power and harming her political and personal reputation. This damaging slur was utilised in context of prevailing social and political concerns regarding issues of marriage, sexuality, and kinship. It has been noted by Retha M. Warnicke that ‘in medieval England... several noble ladies were accused of using sortileges to lure men into marriage; one of the most recent incidents involved Henry [VIII]’s grandmother Elizabeth, wife to Edward IV’.152 In contrast to witchcraft persecutions in regions such as Germany and France, which tended to victimise marginalised and powerless women153, queens in England were occasionally attacked by their political opponents through accusations of witchcraft. In very different circumstances, two queens, Joan of Navarre and Elizabeth Woodville, and a royal aunt, Eleanor Cobham, were openly accused by their male enemies of employing witchcraft and sorcery to maintain their positions of power. The queens, Joan and Elizabeth, were able to survive these accusations although their reputations were undoubtedly damaged; in Elizabeth’s case her poor reputation was further blackened, while Joan suffered lengthy imprisonment. In Eleanor’s case, although she was not executed, the punishment of incarceration on the Isle of Man for the remainder of her life was effectively a death sentence. While the

150

Heinrich Kramer and James Sprenger, The Malleus Maleficarum (Montague Summers, trans. 1928; Cosimo Classics, 2007).

151 Retha M. Warnicke, ‘Sexual Heresy at the Court of Henry VIII’, Historical Journal 30 (1987), p. 249.

152

Ibid. p. 249.

See the work of noted witchcraft scholars such as Brian Levack, The Witch-Hunt in Early Modern Europe (Longman, 2006), for a discussion of this.

153

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evidence relating to the cases of Joan and Elizabeth indicates that neither woman dabbled in witchcraft, evidence pertaining to Eleanor is rather more ambiguous.

connections with the royal family, and personal characteristics. A.R. Myers has commented that chroniclers confidently accepted the charges of sorcery and necromancy brought against Joan of Navarre, viewing her as a malevolent figure, with John Randolf accusing her ‘of compassing the death and destruction of our lord the king in the most treasonable and horrible manner that could be devised’.154 The circumstances which led to Queen Joan being accused of witchcraft by her stepson Henry V are strange, since unlike Elizabeth’s case where accusations were brought by the king’s enemy the Earl of Warwick, it was the king himself who publicly denounced her as a witch and sorceress. Why he did so can be regarded as a result of his desire to profit politically and financially from his relative’s loss.

According to Michael Jones, Henry ‘cast envious eyes on Joan’s dower’ as a result of the financial demands of his ongoing wars with France in the early fifteenth century and because of a desire to finance the cost of his impending marriage.155 Because Joan was disliked by the general populace, it seems likely that the king knew that she would not be defended against scandalous charges.156 As Jones suggests in his article on Joan’s life, the allegations of witchcraft were ‘entirely bogus’ since the sole aim was ‘to reduce the queen’s expenses and pocket the surplus’.157 Probably acting on the king’s direct orders, Joan’s confessor, Father John Randolph, sensationally and publicly accused the queen of plotting King Henry’s death by witchcraft and sorcery, which was confirmed by contemporary

Elizabeth Woodville, c. 1437-1492

However, these accusations should be viewed in context of an oppressive, patriarchal society which viewed women as naturally licentious and sexually promiscuous, content to commit evil whenever given the chance.

Therefore it is no coincidence that both Elizabeth and her mother were perceived to be witches who used sorcery to bring about marriage to Edward IV. Similarly, Eleanor was similarly viewed as a villainous upstart who ensnared the unsuspecting Duke of Gloucester, uncle of Henry VI, into marriage. These powerful women were feared as dangerous females who had the power to subvert established society if given the chance, through bewitching unsuspecting and innocent men into unnatural sexual intrigues.

It is interesting that none of these three women appear to have been popular or trusted by their political peers: Joan because she was a wealthy foreigner; Elizabeth because of her perceived low birth and her avaricious family; and Eleanor because of her political power,

154

Rot. Parl., iv. 1, 186.

Michael Jones, ‘Joan of Navarre (1368-1437), queen of England, second consort of Henry IV’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004-13); accessed online at http://0www.oxforddnb.com.lib.exeter.ac.uk/view/article/14824 ?docPos=1 (21 August 2013).

156 Ibid.

157 Ibid.

155

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chroniclers, mostly writing in London, who recorded that she had attempted ‘by sorcery and necromancy…to have destroyed the king’.158 Joan was taken in October from Havering to Rotherhithe and was later moved to Pevensey before being imprisoned in Leeds Castle for almost two years.

It is clear that the king did not believe that his stepmother had practiced witchcraft.

As Myers remarks, ‘to allow the queen at least nineteen grooms and seven pages to wait on her would have been a curious policy if it had been really believed and proved that she had been practising witchcraft in a dangerous manner’.159 The circumstances of Joan’s imprisonment indicate that not only was there a lack of conviction that she was a sorceress capable of murdering the king, if one excludes vicious remarks made by hostile chroniclers, but this conforms to late medieval methods of ensnaring vulnerable, high-status women, and ruining their reputations. A similar event was to be seen later with Eleanor, Duchess of Gloucester, who suffered incarceration on the Isle of Man on suspicion of witchcraft directed against Henry VI. Joan’s personal unpopularity and her renowned wealth rendered her an easy victim to allegations of witchcraft directed by the king. This act was further made possible by Joan’s unique socio-economic status, for the king was able to seize the queen’s dower and accuse her of witchcraft in order to both ruin her financially and appropriate funds in order to finance his ventures.

The BBC TV series of The White Queen, based on Philippa Gregory’s novel, controversially depicts both Queen Elizabeth

Woodville and her mother, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, as witches, wreaking vengeance on their enemies and using charms to bewitch Edward IV of England.160 However, the case of Elizabeth Woodville, queen consort to Edward IV, was rather different to that of Joan, although it too supports the argument that witchcraft was a powerful and often effective means of ruining a powerful noblewoman’s reputation, exploited by jealous male noblemen. Like Joan, Elizabeth was not a popular queen, for she was despised by both the general population and powerful political figures at court due to being seen as an avaricious, scheming queen who epitomised her greedy family.161 Her mother, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, was similarly feared as a witch, since her family was believed to have descended from Melusina, a water witch.162 In 1465, shields in London depicted a water witch which carried the face of Queen Elizabeth, strengthening allegations that she had dabbled in witchcraft in bewitching King Edward into marrying her.163 These rumours persisted, culminating in Warwick’s rebellion of 1469 when the disaffected duke attempted to usurp the throne from King Edward and restore the former king Henry VI. Warwick and his followers, having imprisoned Edward at Warwick Castle, explained to him that Elizabeth’s use of witchcraft, descending from her mother by 160

Philippa Gregory, The White Queen (Simon & Schuster, 2010); Philippa Gregory, The Lady of the Rivers (Simon & Schuster, 2012).

161 See, for example, Michael Hicks, ‘Elizabeth [nee Elizabeth Woodville] (c.1437-1492), queen of England, consort of Edward IV’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004-13); accessed online at http://0www.oxforddnb.com.lib.exeter.ac.uk/view/article/8634? docPos=1 (22 August 2013).

162 Susan Higginbotham, ‘Jacquetta Woodville and Witchcraft’, The Anne Boleyn Files (2013); accessed online at http://www.theanneboleynfiles.com/jacquettawoodville-and-witchcraft/ (22 August 2013).

163 Ibid.

158

'C. L. Kingsford, Chronicles of London (Oxford, 1905), p. 73 ; Chronicle of London, 1089-1483 (ed. N. H. Nicolas and E. Tyrrell, London, 1827), p. 107.

159 A. R. Myers, ‘The Captivity of a Royal Witch: The Household Accounts of Queen Joan of Navarre, 141921’, Manchester University Press and the Librarian (1940), p. 267.

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virtue of her kinship with Melusina, was to account for her powerful and unnatural influence over him. Following Richard III’s usurpation, rumours circulated by the king’s followers identified Elizabeth as a witch. This further blackened her reputation amongst the

her political influence and the power of the Woodvilles at court, the accusations made against Eleanor Cobham, Duchess of Gloucester and aunt to Henry VI, may have had more basis in fact. Like Elizabeth, Eleanor had contracted an excellent marriage well above her social station when she married Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester, in 1428 following the annulment of his first marriage to Eleanor’s former mistress Jacqueline 164 d’Hainault. Yet, as with Elizabeth, Eleanor was believed to have used sorcery to bewitch her husband into marrying her, earning her notoriety and rampant dislike among the English people: ‘Eleanor, second Duchess of Gloucester, came to occupy the role of Shameless Seductress, absorbing Humphrey’s blame’ through an ‘intersection of received prejudices of class and gender on the ground of witchcraft’.165 In the 1430s Eleanor acquired unprecedented power and influence at court by virtue of her husband’s position as heir apparent to the childless king. In April 1436 she was granted the robes of a duchess for the Garter ceremony and apparently exercised influence over her young nephew Henry VI.166 Her increasing wealth and her social and political position as the wife to the heir to the throne instilled fear and anxiety in her male contemporaries. This played upon medieval notions of gender and power, for ‘the perception amongst men of womanhood as the weaker vessel left women in possession of powers which men found mysterious and

Joan of Navarre, c. 1370-1437

English people, and she was later forced to enter a convent during the reign of Henry VII. While not as damaging as it could have been, Elizabeth’s reputation was undoubtedly threatened by these persistent rumours that she was a witch. Unlike Joan, her status as mother of the princes in the tower and her eventual triumph, with the marriage of her daughter to Henry VII, ensured that Elizabeth retained influence and a measure of power. Resented, even detested by male courtiers due to her political power at court, Elizabeth’s position was weakened in the immediate aftermath of her husband’s death and Richard’s usurpation due to increasing allegations that she was a witch, was contaminating the court and causing evil and mishap.

While allegations of witchcraft made against Joan served to ruin her financially, and in the case of Elizabeth, served to undermine

164

G. L. Harriss, ‘Eleanor [nee Eleanor Cobham], duchess of Gloucester (c.1400-1452), alleged sorcerer’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (2004-13); accessed online at http://0www.oxforddnb.com.lib.exeter.ac.uk/view/article/5742 (22 August 2013).

165 C. Marie Harker, ‘The Two Duchesses of Gloucester and the Rhetoric of the Feminine’, Historical Reflections/Reflexions Historiques 30 (2004), p. 110.

166 Harriss, ‘Eleanor Cobham’.

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threatening’.167 But although Eleanor, as an unpopular powerful noblewoman at the English court, was attacked like Joan and Elizabeth on grounds of witchcraft, evidence indicates that by 1440 she had begun to consult astrologers to cast the king’s horoscope and predict her personal fortunes.168 Although this was an accepted social and academic practice, Eleanor’s gender and her proximity to the English throne meant that her actions could be interpreted darkly. When it was discovered that Eleanor’s astrologers had predicted the king’s death, an examination of these men, John Bolingbroke, Thomas Southwell, and Eleanor’s chaplain John Home Canon of Hereford was ordered. Bolingbroke, described as a ‘gret and konnyng man in astronomye’, and ‘renowned in all the world’169, publicly named Eleanor as the instigator, and when Eleanor was examined by a panel of bishops on eighteen charges of treasonable necromancy, she admitted to five of them.170 More controversially, it emerged that Eleanor had consulted with ‘the Witch of Eye’, Margery Jourdemayne. She was renowned in England as a witch who was able to provide spells and potions to bring about love or end a pregnancy: ‘there was a Beldame called the wytch of Ey... which wrought wonders in countryes by heresaye…suche an 171 inchauntresse, as that tyme had no peere’.

Eleanor admitted to having used Margery’s services for a period of several years and testified that she had sought her assistance in becoming pregnant by Duke Humphrey. While

Margery was burned at the stake and Bolingbroke hung, drawn and quartered, Eleanor was sentenced to doing penance by walking barefoot to three London churches on successive market days in November, bearing a taper. Her marriage was annulled and she was condemned to lifelong imprisonment on the Isle of Man. Humphrey’s renunciation of his wife, believing that he had been bewitched by evil means into marriage, illustrates prevailing beliefs about the use of sorcery to bring about lucrative unions: ‘he found himself reconfigured as a sexual weakling, subject to the feminine machinations of the Bad Woman’.172 Harriss judges her guilt thus: ‘although she had instigated predictions of the king’s illness this fell short of devising the

Eleanor Cobham, c. 1400-1452

means to encompass his death... such practices [love potions and spells], common to all classes, attracted particular suspicion and alarm where women exercised influence at a high level.’173

167

A. Fletcher, Gender, Sex and Subordination in England 1500-1800 (New Haven and London, 1995), p.

402.

168 Harriss, ‘Eleanor Cobham’.

169 20 English Chronicle 57; ‘Wilhelmi Wyrcester Annales’ 763; Emden, Biographical Reg. Oxford, I, pp.

214-15.

170 Ibid.

171 L. B. Campbell, The Mirror for Magistrates (New York, 1960), p. 435.

172 173

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Harker, ‘Duchesses of Gloucester’, p. 110.

Harriss, ‘Eleanor Cobham’.

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It is apparent that the crime of witchcraft was entwined with beliefs about gender and power, acting on male fear and anxiety regarding their supremacy over women and the maintenance of the social order, for there ‘was a distinct awareness of the fragility of male potency and an anxiety about female power’ clearly apparent in the three cases discussed here.174 While Joan and Elizabeth were both apprehended by jealous noblemen in order to destroy their political reputations and, in Joan’s case, seize her wealth, the evidence pertaining to Eleanor indicates that her right to participate in perfectly acceptable practices was questioned and darkly interpreted by her enemies, who eagerly sought a chance to weaken her considerable influence at the English court. Historians have acknowledged the usefulness of recognising the preoccupation of gender in the persecution of witchcraft, but it should not be forgotten that most of the evidence concerning these women ‘was compiled or invented by men and rests on male assumptions’.175 Acting on their own social and cultural beliefs, these men at court utilised the fear of witchcraft as a gendered political weapon by which to destroy powerful women whom enjoyed great political and financial influence to the detriment of noblemen and courtiers.

174

Lyndal Roper, Oedipus and the Devil: Witchcraft, Sexuality and Religion in Early Modern Europe (Routledge, 1994), p. 138.

175 Olwen Hufton, ‘What is Women’s History?’, History Today, 35, 6, 1985.

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Postmodernism – an Introduction An overview of the impact of postmodernism on historical study Izzy Parker Introduction Postmodernism can be defined as an intellectual, social and moral methodology that emerged in the 1980s following the rejection of modernity, which had dominated intellectual principles since at least the nineteenth century.

Although only a very recent development, the promotion of postmodernist theories has undoubtedly resulted in the traditional study of history being ‘shaken right down to its scientific and cultural foundations’.176 This article explains two of the primary challenges to history that have emerged from postmodernist ideas: the development of poststructuralism through the prominent figures of Ferdinand de Saussure (1857-1913), Roland Barthes (1915-80) and Jacques Derrida (1930-2004), which led to the suggestion that historical works are as unreliable as literary fiction; and the debate over the impact of knowledge and power on historical discourse, led by Michel Foucault (1926-84). This article will also highlight the various responses of historians to the postmodernist challenge, particularly that of Richard J. Evans, as well as the extent to which historians were able to recover from this major intellectual shift.

articulates experience rather than reflecting or expressing it’.177 Saussure thus suggested that language exists in ‘its own internal structure’, and that the relationship between a word – the ‘signifier’ – and the object it represents – the ‘signified’ – is open to a vast range of interpretations.178 Derrida and Barthes expanded this claim to argue that signifiers simply point to other signifiers, resulting in the continual deferral of exact meaning, suggesting that the relation between two words is constantly changing. The promotion of such a theory jeopardised the traditional historical approach, as it suggested that texts only reflect other texts, rather than reality, thus historical works ‘can scarcely be distinguished from literary study’.179 This theorisation had radical implications for historical methodology, as it implied that authors no longer held any control over the meaning of their work. If the meaning of a text is constantly changing, then meaning in the past cannot be found, as it is merely expressed differently each time, by different historians, suggesting that it would be impossible to ever produce a completely original and accurate historical text.

Poststructuralism suggests that texts have become ‘a mere hall of mirrors reflecting nothing but each other, and throwing no light upon the “truth”, which does not exist’, thus

Poststructuralism One of the most threatening challenges to the subject of history was poststructuralism, a methodology closely related to postmodernism.

This developed from the ideas of the Swiss linguistic theorist Ferdinand de Saussure, who argued that language ‘constitutes and

177

David Harlan, ‘Intellectual History and the Return of Literature’, American Historical Review 94 (1989), p.

581.

178 John Tosh, The Pursuit of History: Aims, Methods and New Directions in the Study of Modern History (Harlow, 2002), p. 186.

179 Lawrence Stone and Gabrielle M. Spiegel, ‘History and Post-Modernism’, Past and Present 135 (1992), pp.

196-197.

176

Joyce Appleby, Lynn Hunt and Margaret Jacob, ‘Telling the truth about history’ in Keith Jenkins (ed.), The Postmodern History Reader (London, 1997), p. 209.

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implying that there is no distinction between primary and secondary sources, and subsequently refuting the basis of modern historical research.180

history is that all existing historical writing is seen as ‘partisan’, that it only represents a ‘white, male, heterosexual, Eurocentric point of view’.182 Clearly, the trends in critical thinking such as that of Foucault and the poststructuralists presented a serious challenge to the subject of history, and have undoubtedly thrown the reputation of professional historians and the validity of their works into considerable doubt.

Knowledge and Power A further aspect of postmodernism which threatened the basis of historical method developed from the arguments of Michel Foucault, a French philosopher who suggested that the main purpose of historical writing for historians is to gain power. Basing his assertions on his own research into the history of mental illness, Foucault argues that throughout history there has been a ‘dominant “discourse”’, which ‘restricted the possibilities of thought’ to ‘exclude the possibility of disagreement’, suggesting that prejudiced and even inaccurate history has remained

The Positive Impact of Postmodernism on the Historical Profession The responses of historians to the postmodernist challenge have varied dramatically across the field. Evans, although primarily rejecting most notions of postmodernism, acknowledges that it has at least encouraged historians to examine sources more closely and to become more self-critical, suggesting that some aspects of postmodernist ideas have had a positive effect on the study of history.183 This is supported by Callum Brown, who has adapted to the postmodernist theories and argues that it has made him a better historian: ‘My own research and writing in history topics have been transformed in the last decade by my new awareness of the perspectives, agendas and methods of postmodernist history’.184 Patrick Joyce, a prominent postmodernist historian, has emphasised the importance of this, urging that the advances of postmodernism must be adopted by historians.185 Joyce insists that the recent developments cannot be ignored, and that historians should ‘engage in a positive

Michel Foucault

unchallenged to increase the power of prominent historians.181 Foucault insisted that if one historical text was considered more exact than another, this was not because it was more accurate, but because the author had more influence within the historical profession. The effect of this suggestion that knowledge and truth is the result of power on the subject of

182

Ibid. p. 197.

Evans, In Defence of History, p. 248.

184 Brown, Postmodernism for Historians, p. 2.

185 Patrick Joyce and Catriona Kelly, ‘History and PostModernism’, Past and Present 133 (1991), p. 208.

180

183

Lawrence Stone, ‘Notes’, Past and Present 131 (1991), p. 217.

181 Richard J. Evans, In Defence of History (London, 2000), p. 196.

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exchange with it’, rather than rejecting its ideas completely.186

history in the rejection of some postmodernist assumptions.

In Defence of History – The Response of Richard J. Evans Nonetheless, there has been considerable criticism of postmodernist ideas when applied to historical scholarship. Evans is a key figure for the resistance to poststructuralist theories, arguing that it is possible to understand the exact meaning of past language simply because of the multitude of documents that are available. Words and concepts of a particular period can be compared to others from similar documents, meaning the exact definition of particular terms can be isolated and analysed.

The Rejection of Postmodernism Although Evans appears to be the primary defender of history against postmodernism, there are a number of historians who criticised such theories as well. Stone and Spiegel argue that we should ‘reject the tendencies of an extreme post-structuralism to absorb history into textuality’, and thus deny the postmodernist notion that historical texts are no different from literary texts.188 Tosh supports this, and rejects poststructuralist ideas about language, arguing that even daily life can tell us that the exact meaning of certain terminology is usually correctly interpreted.

Tosh further argues that a significant proportion of postmodernist assumptions about historical method are untrue and that ‘the weaknesses of historical enquiry have been grossly exaggerated’.189 For example, Tosh asserts that ‘historians do not claim’, as postmodernists have argued, that ‘in all cases their method can uncover every dimension of textual meaning’.190 It could also be argued that postmodernists take an unfair view regarding the way in which historical works are received. Evans points out that historians do not presume that everything they write is entirely true, as suggested by some postmodernist sympathisers. He further argues that readers do not assume everything the historian has written is accurate, and that many postmodernists underestimate ‘the critical capacity of people who read history’.191 The general consensus is that a number of postmodernist claims about historical method and historical works are simply inaccurate, and

Richard J. Evans

Evans further rejects the postmodernist notion that words have infinite meanings, suggesting that this assertion is unrealistic. The postmodernist idea that historians write history for the purpose of gaining power, as initially argued by Foucault, is also criticised by Evans, who argues that ‘it is quite wrong to suppose that professional historians all agree on certain aspects of history’ just to ‘keep their posts and their salaries’.187 It is clear that Evans presents a valid argument on behalf of the subject of

188

Stone and Spiegel, ‘History and Post-Modernism’, p.

207.

189 Tosh, The Pursuit of History p. 197.

190 Ibid. p. 196.

191 Evans, In Defence of History, p. 149.

186

Patrick Joyce, ‘The End of Social History?’, Social History 20 (1995), p. 73.

187 Evans, In Defence of History p. 208.

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it is for this reason that it has failed to have a significant, long-term impact on the historical profession.

Conclusion In conclusion, the emergence of postmodernism in the 1980s evidently presented a significant challenge to the subject of history, historical method of inquiry, and the integrity of the historian. Arguments made by Foucault regarding the influence of power in history as well as developments in language and poststructuralist thought threatened to reduce the reliability of all historical works to mere fiction. Nonetheless, historians have undoubtedly retaliated with equal zest.

Although some of the advances of postmodernism, such as the encouragement of historians to critique sources and texts in new ways, can be viewed as a positive consequence of recent developments, historians have overall successfully rejected the more extreme assertions of postmodernism. Stone suggests that it is now possible to establish an understanding between traditional historians and postmodernists, which perhaps reflects the attitudes of most historians in the aftermath of the postmodernist challenge.192 Nonetheless, Tosh asserts that there is a limit to the extent to which historians will accept postmodernist ideas – this limit being that historicism should be abandoned entirely.193 Historians have pointed out that a number of postmodernist arguments regarding the historical method are flawed, and that, ultimately, the proposal to abandon all studies of the past would mean we would ‘never be able to determine how the present came to be’.194

192

Stone and Spiegel, ‘History and Post-Modernism’, p.

191.

193 Tosh, The Pursuit of History, pp. 194, 197.

194 Ibid. p. 197.

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The Bill Douglas Centre A valuable resource at the University of Exeter Emily Vine Easy access to primary source material is arguably the most important resource for a history student, and it’s much more interesting to be able to view original material in person rather than scrolling through the slightly soulless digitised versions available on the internet. We are lucky at Exeter to have a wealth of material available to us through the fantastic on-campus cinema museum, the Bill Douglas Centre (BDC). You may not have heard of the Bill Douglas Centre, or may not be immediately aware that film memorabilia could be relevant to your history studies. I would like more history students to realise that the Bill Douglas Collection contains objects and books which relate to a far broader range of historical themes and approaches than may be immediately obvious, and can provide a fantastic basis for research projects such as the second-year ‘Doing History’ modules and the third-year Dissertation. In this article, I will provide an overview of some of the material available in the BDC, and how it can be relevant to your history studies and independent research projects.

All the items in the BDC are part of the collection because of their association with the development of the moving image, but many items are extremely relevant to history students because they provide a fascinating insight into the culture and concerns of the society in which they were produced. Take for example the BDC’s large collection of stereoscope cards; cards with two slightly different photographs printed next to each other, which when viewed through a stereoscope create a 3D image. The photographs on the stereoscope cards comprise a wide range of subjects and

Engraving by Hogarth, with peepshow in foreground (1733)

scenes. Particularly interesting are a set of stereo cards depicting colonial life in India in the early 1900s, and also several sets which depict scenes from the First World War. The images of India are interesting because they were produced by a British company to demonstrate the ‘positive’ impact of colonial rule, and portray an extremely generalised and condescending view of Indian people. The images of the First World War were also intended to be viewed by the British public and presented a fiercely patriotic view of the achievements of the British army; glorifying the events of the trenches and emphasising the bravery and camaraderie of the soldiers. These sets of images would be useful to historians studying colonial India or the First World War; firstly as photographic records, and also as evidence of how such events and practices were presented to the British public through popular culture.

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Those unfamiliar with the Bill Douglas Centre may be surprised at the extensive amount of pre-cinema material within the collection. There are numerous maps of Exeter and London from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, satirical and political cartoons, ephemera relating to panoramas, and a large number of eighteenth-century prints, including my personal favourite, a print of a Hogarth engraving of Southwark fair. The appeal of

information which would be very useful primary source material for social historians.

Henry Mayhew’s four volume work London Labour and the London Poor is an extremely valuable source of both statistical and anecdotal information about the lives of the working classes, with particular emphasis upon the ‘underworld’: the criminals, prostitutes, and street beggars upon which much of our conceptions of the ‘bleak’ Victorian age are based. The large collection of London guidebooks is equally informative, and provides a wealth of information about popular tourist sites, admission prices, public transport, popular recreation and leisure activities, and important public buildings and institutions, as well as maps of London as it once looked.

Film magazines such as The Pictures and The Picturegoer are a fantastic record of popular culture, leisure activities and social aspiration during the twentieth century. They demonstrate what a key role film played in the lives of ordinary people; how it reflected social concerns and current affairs, and also how

His Majesty inspecting the shells at Holmes and Co., Ltd., Munition Works, Hull

these items extends far beyond their original association with the development of the moving image. They are objects which reveal people’s popular pastimes, political affiliations, and reactions to current affairs, and also demonstrate visibly what their houses, towns and cities would have looked like. This wide range of material uncovers much of eighteenthand nineteenth-century life, and would be of great interest to social, cultural, political and even military historians.

Within the collection are a large number of nineteenth-century guidebooks, social histories and periodicals which provide invaluable insights into Victorian life. They are part of the collection because they make reference to popular culture through the mention of cinemas, music halls or peep shows; however they contain a wealth of other

Victoria and Albert

people reacted to film and aspired to have or be what was depicted on the big screen. They are invaluable resources for social or cultural historians, and those looking at concepts of 48

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gender, class, consumerism and leisure. The adverts in these magazines are particularly interesting; they are often targeted at specific ideals of masculinity and femininity which reveals a great deal about societal norms. From a modern perspective it is interesting to note how little celebrity magazines have progressed in a hundred years. When looking through the oldest film magazines of 1911 one can recognise the early obsession with the beauty of film stars, and tips on how readers can look or behave like their idols. The large collection of publicity programmes for documentary film and lantern slide showings demonstrate how cinema and the moving image were used to inform as well as entertain. The subject matters of these documentary films and lantern slide lectures vary greatly, but they often allowed the audience to experience images of a place or event they would otherwise never have access to. They would present exciting glimpses of ‘exotic’ countries and far-flung corners of the British Empire, and provide access to images .

of the Royal family, or the trenches of the Western Front. The way in which these subjects were presented to the British public, or were considered worthy of widespread public attention, tells us much about conceptions of national identity, and attitudes towards racial or cultural differences.

As part of my work at the BDC I have recently been involved in updating many descriptions in the online catalogue, so that many items should be easier to find through the use of broader keywords such as “British Empire” or “First World War”. A further list of items which are directly relevant to undergraduate history modules is in the process of being distributed around the history department, and should be made accessible to history students via ELE. I hope that this will make more history students aware of the wide range of resources available to them at the Bill Douglas Centre, and also make it easier to search and access the collection.

The images are available on the BDC EVE catalogue. Clockwise from top: 70537, 62707, 61973, and 64148.

One of eight lantern slides, the World War

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Understanding the Medieval and Early-Modern World A module review of a key First-Year History module Michael Doyle Hello, and welcome to all of Exeter University’s new undergraduates. I’d like to take this opportunity to present some thoughts on a module that many History students will encounter in their first year. From the Fall of Rome to the Crusades, from the Peasants’ Revolt to the Reformation, and finally culminating in the eighteenth-century Enlightenment, the Understanding the Medieval and Early-Modern World module takes one through an extraordinary and historically-rich journey. Students can look forward to Professor Simon Barton’s series of lectures on the Crusades, North Africa and the Middle East which provide a fascinating insight into the relationship between Europe and other regions of the world. Dr Levi Roach’s lectures on the Fall of Rome and the feudal transformation in 1000 AD are captivating and intellectually stimulating.

Professor Henry French provides an in-depth introduction to capitalism, trade and commerce in Europe. Dr Sara Barker’s lectures on the Reformation, and the rise of print media are extremely informative and engaging on a tumultuous time in Early Modern history. For each seminar, you will be asked to work in small groups and to present a subject matter related to the seminar topic. These seminars are thematic, with topics ranging from the formation of European nation states in the wake of the Fall of Rome, to the creation of a

social order, and to the development of Science from a discipline based on the Aristotelian philosophy to one based on empiricism and rational enquiry. These seminars were thoughtprovoking, raised new questions which induced me to do further reading and helped broaden my knowledge on the fascinating developments in European history in this particular period.

Furthermore, the introduction to working with primary and secondary sources and the construction of an argument using historical evidence are vital skills one acquires on this module. My favourite seminar was on The Crusades: the range of different views produced a lively discussion that was engaging, and helped broaden my understanding of an epoch of history on which I had little knowledge on previously. The most important advice I can offer to first-year students is to read at least one book or journal from the further reading list for each seminar. The more you read in advance, the greater your contribution will be in the seminar. The Understanding the Medieval and Early-Modern World module is an interesting and thoroughly enjoyable module, with a fantastic team of lecturers, and provides an excellent introduction to an intriguing and eventful journey through European history. I hope you enjoy the module and your first year of study here at Exeter.

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Understanding the Modern World A module review of a key First-Year History module Andrew Eckert This module will prove to you that you didn’t know all that there is to know about the modern world! Many students arrive with significant gaps in their historical knowledge but the Modern World module, like its Medieval and Early Modern counterpart, aims to give you a thematic grounding on the history of the modern world and a more in-depth understanding of this period. With seminars on a range of themes from science to technology, and from imperialism to colonisation, you will certainly find a variety of topics that will grasp your interest and inspire you to research them further. The seminars will have a similar format to the Medieval and Early Modern module; you will be put into study groups and will be required to research and present answers on a series of questions during seminars. I found the seminar on nationalism

and ‘invented traditions’ fascinating, and I enjoyed researching the origin-myths of several states and presenting my findings to the group.

You can also look forward to lectures from Jeremy Black, Jo Melling, and Justin Jones on the Enlightenment, the post-colonial world and global conflicts, to name but a few. You will find the lecture handouts to be invaluable when you come to revise for your exams at the end of the year so make sure you are organised and keep them to refer back to. One final piece of advice is that when you come to write your essays make sure that you read and include sources other than those prescribed for your essay question – this will not only improve your overall understanding of the topic but also provide you with extra examples and evidence to work into your essay that could significantly improve your mark.

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The Historian, Vol. 3, No. 1

The Editorial Board William Tonks, Emily Vine, Rebecca Chircop, and Michael Doyle Last May, the decision was made to enlarge the editorial team due to increased interest and demand for The Historian. We advertised for several editorial board members to assist in the editing of the submissions, and we received a number of excellent applications. After a lengthy selection process, four applicants were chosen to join the editorial board. They have been essential in the creation of this issue, and will prove vital to the continued production and quality of the journal in the coming year.

Here below the four editorial board members introduce themselves.

Rebecca Chircop: I am a second year History and Ancient History student with many areas of interest, including the late Roman republic and late medieval political history. This term my research will focus on the politics of the Tudor court. In my free time I can be found reading or writing fiction, singing in Choral Society or composing my own music. Last year I was publicity officer for Choral Society, and this year I decided to do something a little different and become editorial board member of The Historian. For me this is a great opportunity to do something I enjoy and which is related to history whilst gaining experience of the editorial process. I plan to follow my BA degree with a masters degree, although I have yet to decide which area I wish to focus on.

Michael Doyle: I am a second year History and International Relations student. My primary research interest is the Early-Modern period, encompassing socioeconomic and diplomatic history; however, my contributions for the Historian have ranged from fifteenth-century English serfdom to twentiethcentury British politics. My research project this term will focus primarily on US-British relations from 1800-1815 – in particular the cultural element. The principal motivation for joining the editorial board of The Historian was to convert my passion for well written historical scholarship into practical and helpful guidance for my fellow students. Once I have completed my BA, I aim to complete a masters degree and pursue a career in academia.

Emily Vine: I am a third year History student. I’m interested in both Early Modern and Modern social, cultural and medical history, and my dissertation will examine attitudes towards mental illness in Britain in the seventeenth century. This will be my second year volunteering at the fantastic Bill Douglas Centre and working in the equally wonderful Students’ Guild Advice Unit. I joined the editorial board of The Historian so I could critically engage with a variety of different historical topics and writing styles, and also to help promote links between the Bill Douglas Centre and History students. I can’t see myself leaving university any time soon and occasionally get urges to do a graduate medicine degree, but think it would be wiser to do postgraduate study in medical history instead.

William Tonks: I am a third year Economics and Politics student. Although I am not pursuing a History degree, the subject has always been a passion of mine and I have found that a solid comprehension of historical context has enhanced my understanding of many of the concepts and ideas that I have encountered in my degree. I hope that my contribution to the editorial board of The Historian will be to play a part in ensuring that the journal remains of interest to a broad audience, so that even those who are not directly engaged with the subject will be able to benefit from the insights offered by historical analysis.

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The Historian, Vol. 3, No. 1

The History Society would like to thank the following sponsors for their generous contributions to the Great Gatsby Ball held in May 2013.

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The Historian, Vol. 3, No. 1

The Historian would like to thank the Alumni Society and their Annual Reserve Fund for their continued support of this publication. For more details, please see www.alumni.exeter.ac.uk All contributions in this publication belong to their respective authors and may not be copied or reproduced without consent.

All images in this publication are copy-right free. Their original source may be requested from the editors.

If you have any questions or wish to contribute to The Historian, please contact the editors at ad383@exeter.ac.uk and ate202@exeter.ac.uk Furthermore, you can follow The Historian and the History Society on Facebook to stay on top of all updates and events: facebook.com/TheHistorianJournal and facebook.com/Exeter.histsoc. You can also follow the Society on Twitter: @ExeterHistSoc.

The Editorial Team reserves the right to alter works to comply with publication standards and lay-out.

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