The myth and the stones of Venice: an historical geography of a symbolic landscape

John Ruskin's Stones of Venice criticized the Victorian city and Victorian society in the light of a reconstruction of medieval Venice. But Ruskin's reconstruction embodied elements of a long-standing myth propagated by Venetians themselves and inscribed in their organization of urban space and urban landscape. The geographical dimensions of the myth, its changing character through time, its iconographic expressions and its significance for English attitudes to Venice are described and explained. Ruskin used the myth to support his ideology, constructing a homology between architectural development and social structure. But the appeal of Venice transcends historical contingency and may, in part, be understood by reference to psychoanalytic categories, specifically sexual symbolism.     

The naval battles of Roger of Lauria

Roger of Lauria's family was exiled from the kingdom of Sicily by Charles I of Anjou for its support of the Hohenstaufen cause but in the service of Aragon he became the most feared and renowned warrior of his generation. His six great naval victories during the War of the Sicilian Vespers closely determined the outcome of that struggle.Lauria's fame has been diminished by the minor place awarded to the War of the Vespers by modern medievalists and by its overshadowing by the Hundred Years War. But in fact it was an extremely important war in medieval history, witnessing the decline of the papacy and the kingdom of Sicily and the rise for a brief time of a new power in the Mediterranean: Aragon. Moreover, it was in this war that medieval warfare first began to acquire attributes characteristics of the later middle ages: supremacy of archers and infantry over mounted and mailed knights, appearance of disciplined and professional companies of mercenaries led by professional war leaders, and decline from chivalric warfare into nationalistic hatred and ferocity.Lauria's success lay in the superior qualities of his crews and in his own genius. Handling galley fleets successfully required mastery of the difficult nexus between land and sea for Mediterranean galley warfare was more amphibious than naval in the modern sense of the word. Lauria proved to be the greatest master of the science in the middle ages; a war leader deserving to be ranked with Richard Coeur de Lion, the Black Prince, and Nelson.     

Richard II's knights: chivalry and patronage

Research on late medieval England has tended in two directions. There has been a great renewal of interest in matters chivalric and in the conflicts between the chivalric ideal and reality as interpreted by chroniclers such as Froissart. Quite divorced from such inquiry, the study of pelf and place has proceeded apace. A study of Richard II's conferments of knighthood provides an interesting opportunity to unite these disparate strands of inquiry.Richard II, who ended his life as the simple knight Sir Richard of Bordeaux, had afar deeper sense of chivalric values than many historians have allowed. Chivalry was a vital component in the outlook of the man.Yet, Richard II found himself in this position as a result of intense factional rivalries in which he had been a leading if ultimately losing player. Records of the order of the Garter provide one source of material for this study, but the article also looks at Richard's conferments in more general terms. Clearly, Richard manipulated the chivalric ideal for practical ends, but a tarnished ideal is not a repudiated ideal. Richard II made use of knighthood within his system because he - and his clients —continued to operate within the chivalric code for which such knighthood stood.     

Die historia francorum senonensis und der Aufstieg des Hauses Capet

In this inquiry the author confronts the historiographical view of the rise of the Capetians to power, as represented by the Historia Francorum Senonensis, with historical reality. He comes to the conclusion that the medieval historian, writing in the thirties of the eleventh century, sought by the selection, combination, interpretation, and presentation of his passages to propagate a view which had originated at the archbishop's court at Sens. The actual political motive was the dispute of Sens with Reins over coronation rights; it was this that explains the anti-Capetian tendency of the author's account of the dynastic change in 987. Moreover, it is possible to discern a political consciousness which was able to consider the West-Frankish/French monarchy as independent from dynastic considerations. We are thus dealing not with a historiographical statement of the Carolingian point of view, but with the reaction to a particular situation in ecclesiastical politics combined with a non-personal theory of the state.     

Duke Richard of York's intentions in I450 and the origins of the wars of the roses

The return of Richard, duke of York, from Ireland in 1450 represents his first overt attempt to remedy certain grievances. His criticism of the Lancastrian régime eventually brought him leadership in the Wars of the Roses. The grivances of 1450 are contained in two bills addressed to Henry VI. At first, the duke harboured personal grievances — fear of attainder and having his claim to the throne bypassed, resentment at his counsel being ignored and his debts unpaid — which were exaguerated by unsertainty and the king's readiness to believe the worst. Richards apreciation of the widespread hostility towards the government and the disarray of the king's Household after Suffolk's murder enabled him to convert grievances into public criticisms in his second bill. He encouraged investigations into official oppression in southeastern England, and his supporters may have stimulated risings there to demonstrate support for him. Compared with Henry's nervous reaction to York's first bill, he firmly checkmated the pretensions of the second, and Yorks achievement in 1450 was limited. But he had taken a first step towards appealing for support by converting personal grievances into a general bid for sympathy. Whether he aid so for personal or public motives — or both — remains an open question.     

Le groupe cathédral dans le paysage urbain en Italie (XIII–XVe siècles)

Reflecting on the alleged differences between the medieval town, based on its cathedral church, and the Renaissance town, supposedly grouped round its prince's palace, the author embarked on an examination of the role of the duomo and its precinct in the Italian town of the later middle ages. Apart from its central importance in religious functions, especially preaching and processions, and the conscious effort to ensure that the town's greatness was matched by the splendour of its cathedral, the author shows that the duomo served as the venue for recieving distinguished visitors, for public declarations, for miracle plays, for funerals, and even for some purely secular activities. The role of the duomo was thus at once religious and social and political.     

The world picture of Philip the fair

During the arrest and early months of the trial of the Templars in 1307 and 1308, a number of documents emanated from Philip IV's chancery which are not only valuable evidence of the regime's administrative concerns during the trial, but also, in the language used, convey a sense of contemporary concepts of the medieval world order as seen either by the king himself or by his chief advisers. Royal motivation for the arrests is still a matter of controversy, but it does not seem inconsistent to believe that Philip both sought the Templars' wealth to alleviate immediate financial problems and came to convince himself that the Templars had transgressed the laws upon which the whole ordering of society was based. It is upon this second aspect of Philip's mental outlook that this discussion concentrates. This paper aims to examine these concepts and to relate them to other contemporary polemical views on the trial.     

“The apple of my eye”: Carl Sauer and historical geography

Many historical geographers would claim Sauer to be one of them. Yet, with the exception of his Foreword to historical geography (1941) he made no major declaration of his interest in the sub-discipline. This paper attempts to examine Sauer's attitude to the time element in geography through a close appraisal of his published work but particularly through his hitherto unpublished correspondence. It soon becomes evident that Sauer changed his ideas during his long working life, and that it is difficult to disentangle Sauer's philosophy about the time element in geography from his philosophy about life, particularly within university circles in the United States, and within American society in general. Sauer's comment to a student in 1936 that historical geography “is of course the apple of my eye” would seem to be demonstrated amply, but that historical geography was not a conventional methodology so much as a flexible metaphor to encompass the study of man on earth through time. It was also the vehicle for some of his prime concerns; scholarship, independent thought, opposition to bureaucracy, concern for human values and environmental quality, and deep distaste for the technological and scientific “fix”, particularly the solutions offered by the social sciences. It might repay contemporary historical geographers to take a close look at Sauer's academic and intellectual values.     

A psycho-historical source: the Memoirs of Abbot Guibert of Nogent

Medievalists turn to Guibert of Nogent's Memoirs (1116) for the account of the Laon uprising they contain. And yet this account is poor history. It is didactic and self-righteous in tone; one senses that the writer consistently sacrificed historical truth to the moral point he was trying to make. Scratch this twelfth- century ‘historian’ and you will find underneath a guilt-ridden cleric, haunted by vivid sexual reminiscences of his mother and by the terrible chastening reality of the Virgin Mary. A sensitive reading of the confessional sections of the Memoirs may yield up crucial unconscious impulses in a medieval man's psyche: his ‘masculine’ ambitions for glory, his need to prove his manhood, and yet also his ‘feminine’ desire for selfless submission to God, and his need to achieve a kind of passive holiness and innocence. These opposing impulses may account for the ‘demon’ that tortured Guibert of Nogent.After isolating certain psychological themes in the Memoirs it is possible to relate these themes to various nuances in the psychological ‘milieu’ of twelfth-century France. It is also possible to relate some of these themes to a ‘milieu’ not altogether different from that of twelfth-century France — twentieth-century southern Italy. For in southern Italy, we find that the psychological relationship between masculinity and femininity and (perhaps as a result of this relationship) the prominence of the Virgin Mary in the lives of the people corresponds closely to the situation in twelfth- century France. But this cross-cultural analysis is meant only to illuminate some of the possibilities of psychohistory. At the very least, a psychohistorical consideration of a text such as Guibert of Nogent's Memoirs should reveal some useful correlations between the single psychological current and the larger tides of cultural history.     

After-school Hours and the Meanings of Home: Re-defining Finnish Childhood Space

School children's use of their home during the after-school hours has become a controversial question in Finnish society. The article discusses cultural conceptions and uses of home as a specific space for children by comparing two different sets of empirical data: children's accounts of their after-school spaces and media debate on the same topic. Activated public concern in media accounts is analysed as a process of re-defining the properties of ‘proper places’ for children, whereas children's accounts are interpreted as expressions of local cultures. For the children, home is an ideal place for spending after-school time, while the public debate portrays the home as empty and children as lonely and unsafe. Definitions of home in after-school time are considered as part of a broader cultural process of re-defining contemporary Finnish childhood in which control turns out to be a crucial dimension of children's ‘proper places’.     

Degrading the Male Body: Manhood and Conflict in the High‐medieval Low Countries

Recent studies of medieval manhood have prompted scholars to revisit the established research field of medieval conflict and have directed attention towards the role of gendered violence in (elite) political culture. However, symbolic impermanent defamations of the male body proper remain to be discussed. Drawing from the rich narrative sources from the high‐medieval Low Countries, this article aims in particular at remedying this blind spot by scrutinising specific forms of gendered violence, such as the enforced shearing of an elite man's beard or a public mocking of his chivalric manly fortitude. It also presents the argument that these practices, when used in contexts of conflict and punishment, not only tapped into the authority of ancient traditions and rituals but rather might have served clear contemporary interests relating to the pacification of society. Such tactics would have helped to avoid feud in a world in which aristocratic manly honour regularly seemed to demand it, especially in a time when centralised and consolidated structures for conflict management were still lacking and a religiously inspired peace ideal influenced policy‐making as well as day‐to‐day social dynamics.     

The spring,the seed and the tree: Gregory of Tours on the wonders of nature

In the preface to his liturgical calendar The reckoning of the course of the stars Bishop Gregory of Tours (538–594) — author also of Ten books of histories and Eight books of miracles as well as of a Commentary on the understanding of the Psalter (of which, however, only fragments are preserved) — declares God's “wonders” of the natural world to be superior to the seven ancient wonders of the world. The reason for this is that the latter, being works of men, are subject to decay and destruction, while the former, as miraculous works of God, are divinely sustained and renewed daily or annually, thereby becoming imperishable. An examination of the associative contexts in which two of these wonders — the sea (enlarged to include water in its various forms) and plant life — occur in the rest of Gregory's works reveals several essential themes of his thinking not only about nature, but also about God, man and society. Thought, for him, nature as a (divinely sustained) system of regularities does exist as a kind of backdrop, sudden unpredictable divine — and sometimes diabolic — action in and through phenomena occupies the center of the stage. Gregory tends to see this action in the shape of what he regards as pre-existing images or patterns of invisible spiritual truth, to which the visible, even material, structure of events must necessarily conform. He shows, too, how this action could reflect as well as meet various needs of the individual and of society as a whole. An association which recurs almost constantly in his treatment of divine action in these natural phenomena, which he sometimes describes as analogous to that in man, is precisely that with the cluster of closely related concepts of renewal, rebirth and creation ex nihilo. Together with what appears as an extreme, as it were ‘poetical’, sensitivity to sudden perceptions and intuitions, something like a longing for and surrender to what he describes as “astonished admiration” may have helped to make possible his recognition of that which he designated as divine creative power in the world of visible reality as well as in man's inner experience. His seeing this as an essential dynamic of the holy may mean that he felt it to be a fundamental need and concern not only of the individual personality but also, more obscurely, of the society in which he found himself.     

Charles the bold and the crusade: politics and propaganda

The pressures on Charles the Bold (duke of Burgundy from 1467 to his death in 1477) to lead, or lend his support to, a crusade were many. His Italian allies and the papacy all pleaded for his help and participation; and these appeals were augmented by the exhortation contained in much of the literature popular at the Burgundian court and by the presence there of refugees from the East.Charles's response was mixed. Political and moral pressures made it impossible for him to ignore the question of the crusade, but, even if his attitude should be characterized as cautious rather than as indifferent, he never did go on crusade. Equally, however, he repeatedly justified his comparative inaction and, at the same time, made propaganda against his enemies by suggesting that their hostility alone prevented him from embarking on an expedition to drive back the infidel.This response, since it was not untypical of the princes of his generation, helps explain the West's failure to unite against the Turks. From the point of view of Burgundian history, Charles's cautious attitude towards the crusade tends to support the revisionists who argue that he was far less ‘rash’ than the traditional historical view allows.     

Richard of Cornwall's candidature for the German throne and the christmas 1256 parliament at Westminster

Some months after the death of the German king William of Holland in 1256, Richard of Cornwall, with obvious help from King Henry III (but not initially with the support of the pope), decided to enter the contest for the German throne. His methods, including the use of his funds on a large scale, are well known, but Richard and Henry also contrived to deceive the English magnates about their plans. They told the barons at a meeting at the end of the year 1256 that Richard had already been elected king (which was manifestly untrue) and that only their consent was missing. This was a device to foil the expected resistance by the magnates, who were already opposing Henry's increasingly costly Sicilian adventure.     

Dewey's Materialist Philosophy of Education: A Resource for Critical Pedagogues?

This article looks at some similarities and differences between key elements of Karl Marx's critique of capital and John Dewey's philosophy of education, both substantively and methodologically. Substantively, their analyses of the relation between human beings and the natural world—what Marx calls concrete labour and Dewey generally calls action—converge. Similarly, methodologically they converge when looked at from the point of view of their analysis of the relation between earlier and later forms of life. In Marx's case, it is his comparison of the relation between capitalist society and earlier societies. In Dewey's case, it is his comparison of the relation between adult experience and childhood experience. Dewey's practical realization of his distinction of adult and childhood experience in the creation of a materialist curriculum embodied in the Dewey laboratory school in Chicago (of which Dewey was director from 1896 to 1904) also accords in many ways with Marx's theory of concrete labour. On the other hand, their analyses diverge substantively when viewed from the point of view of their critique of capitalist society; Marx united concrete labour with his concept of abstract labour to provide a basis for criticizing modern society on its own terms rather than in terms of Dewey's concept of a cultural lag. The divergence is explained by their divergent methodologies in analyzing modern capitalist society. Despite this difference, the article concludes that critical pedagogues would do well to incorporate Dewey's materialist curriculum into their own practices—with modifications.     

Bolton Castle and the Practice of Architecture in the Middle Ages

Abstract

It is suggested in this paper that our view of the medieval master mason's methodology, in respect of building design, tends to be a partial one; that it represents the ideal, and fails to take account of some medieval architects' inherent empiricism. A good deal is made of comparatively scarce documentary evidence, and of analyses of completed buildings chosen for their architectural coherence. For this reason, perhaps, our perception of the medieval master mason is sometimes too close to that of the modern architect. It is rare to examine a building's construction sequence in attempting to illuminate the subject: Bolton Castle is a building where it has been possible to reconstruct the process of design, and the conclusion drawn from it is that the design was not cut and dried prior to the commencement of building operations; rather it evolved as they progressed. It is shown that, in this, Bolton was by no means atypical and that such cases are a direct result of the medieval mason's craft based approach to his profession.     

Why praise Jews: satire and history in the middle ages

Modern readers, including highly sophisticated, professional historians, have not always understood that medieval praise of jews, in its rare occurrences, never signifies categorical approval of Israelites. Instead, such praise functions as a condemnation, sometimes explicit, sometimes implicit, of Christians whose behavior is not even equal to that of the lowest members of society. The elaborate story told by Richard of Devizes about the murder, towards the end of the twelfth century, of a young Christian by a Jew at Winchester provides a clear illustration of the problem.     

MODERNITY: A PROBLEMATIC CATEGORY IN THE HISTORY OF EMOTIONS

Emotions in History: Lost and Found by Ute Frevert is a lively introduction to some of the issues that historians must address when writing about emotions. Emotions in History notes some of the uses emotions have had in both public and private life, and it charts the changing fate of several emotions—particularly acedia, honor, and compassion—that have been either “lost” or “found” over time. Nevertheless, it suffers from a notion of modernity that obscures rather than clarifies. Making “modernity” the cause of changes in emotional ideas, comportment, and feeling, it cuts today's society off from its earlier roots and fails to see the continuities not only in emotions themselves but also in the mechanisms by which emotions have changed over time. Frevert's assumption that only the modern world has been interested in emotions is belied by eloquent learned writings on the topic in the medieval period (though not using the term “emotions”). Further, modernity is not alone in having effective mechanisms by which ideal standards of emotions and their expression are transmitted to a larger public.     

The court of the Lionheart on crusade, 1190–2

The source material that records the history of the Third Crusade gives the impression that Richard was a king who found it easy to interact with people from different backgrounds. Though he was one of the greatest warrior-kings of the medieval era, he was comfortable with churchmen and knights, with Frenchmen and Anglo-Normans, with lords and clerks, with his men and his father’s men. No doubt every royal court was a bustling, perhaps nearly chaotic, environment, but the individuals found in this study indicate that the court of Richard I was not an ivory tower to which only his barons had access.