Feudal Modes

Author(s):  
David A. Hinton

The trend away from ornamented brooches, rings, and swords that demonstrates changing social pressures and expression during the eleventh century was maintained in the first half of the twelfth. The Anglo-Norman aristocracy had considerable wealth for its castles and churches, but the spending power of the Anglo-Saxon majority was very much diminished by the impositions that followed the Conquest. Social relations among the former were based primarily on land, and although sentiments of personal loyalty were defined by oaths of fealty, there is no record of gift-giving from lord to retainer other than the increasingly formalized bestowal of arms. Towns were growing both in size and number, but only a few merchants were really rich, and the peasantry in the countryside was increasing in number but had decreasing opportunity for individual advancement. Excavations at castles and other baronial residences generally yield the evidence of martial appearance and activity that would be expected, like spurs, and slightly more evidence of wealth, with coins a little more profligately lost, than at other sites. There are also luxuries like gilt strips, from caskets of bone or wood, and evidence of leisure activities, such as gaming-pieces; chess was being introduced into western Europe, and appealed to the aristocracy because it was a complicated pastime that only the educated would have time to learn and indulge in. Furthermore, it could be played by both sexes, though ladies were expected to show their inferior skill and intelligence by losing to the men; it echoed feudal society and its courts; and it could be played for stakes. An occasional urban chess-piece find, not always well dated, shows that a few burgesses might seek to emulate the aristocracy. Other predominantly castle finds include small bone and copper-alloy pins with decorated heads that have been interpreted as hairpins, as at Castle Acre, attesting a female presence, but other personal ornaments are infrequent. Some pictures in manuscripts suggest that in the early twelfth century the highest ranks of the aristocracy were wearing brooches. These were probably conventional representations, however, as there are no valuable brooches or finger-rings in the archaeological record, as there had been earlier.

1984 ◽  
Vol 16 (4) ◽  
pp. 375-387 ◽  
Author(s):  
Katharin Mack

England was conquered twice in the eleventh century: first in 1016 by Cnut the Dane and again in 1066 by William Duke of Normandy. The influence of the Norman Conquest has been the subject of scholarly warfare ever since E.A. Freeman published the first volume of his History of the Norman Conquest of England in 1867—and indeed, long before. The consequences of Cnut's conquest, on the other hand, have not been subjected to the same scrutiny. Because England was conquered twice in less than fifty years, historians have often succumbed to the temptation of comparing the two events. But since Cnut's reign is poorly documented and was followed quickly by the restoration of the house of Cerdic in the person of Edward the Confessor, such studies have tended to judge 1016 by the standards of 1066. While such comparisons are useful, they have imposed a model on Cnut's reign which has distorted the importance of the Anglo-Scandinavian period. If, however, Cnut's reign is compared with the Anglo-Saxon past rather than the Anglo-Norman future, the influence of 1016 can be more fairly assessed.


1978 ◽  
Vol 7 ◽  
pp. 9-60 ◽  
Author(s):  
Peter Kitson

Jewels have always fascinated man. They have been admired simply for their beauty – their depth of colour and their different propensities for catching and reflecting light. The combination of these qualities, rare in nature, has encouraged the attribution to them of many magical and medical powers. The rareness of gems and the distance and inaccessibility of the places from which many are obtained have caused them to figure curiously in legends and travellers' tales. The Anglo-Saxons appreciated the beauty of jewels, as their jewellery shows. Nor were they without interest in precious stones they could not possess; but it has been hard for modern readers to discover what their ideas about them were. The mid-eleventh-century manuscript, London, British Library, Cotton Tiberius A. iii, contains what is by common repute the oldest vernacular lapidary in western Europe. No edition has distinguished its sources accurately or analysed the process of its composition. It has been difficult, more generally, to see how the Anglo-Saxons' ideas fitted into those more widely current. There is no reliable published survey of lapidary writings between late antiquity and the late eleventh century.


1997 ◽  
Vol 6 (2) ◽  
pp. 119-141
Author(s):  
Thomas Kozachek

The earliest efforts to represent accurately the intervallic structure of a melody, beyond the general shape encoded in non-diastematic neumes, or to indicate specific degrees in the gamut, are commonly associated with musical notations of the latter part of the eleventh century. In various chant manuscripts of this period we find systematic use of common or special note shapes, strictly diastematic writing with respect to a drypoint line, and the earliest surviving staff notations.


Author(s):  
Heather Maring

In addition to summarizing briefly the book’s findings, the Afterword explains how the decorated initial “R” (pictured on the cover of Signs That Sing) in Arundel MS 16 represents hybrid poetics at work. The “R,” which begins the Vita et miracula Sancti Dunstani, is an author portrait of Osbern, an eleventh-century monk and precentor of Christ Church Cathedral Priory at Canterbury. The portrait of Osbern—as an author using hybrid signs—intersects with Exeter Riddle 26 (“Bible” or “Gospel”). These two examples span poetry and prose, the vernacular and Latin, and Anglo-Saxon and the early Anglo-Norman periods, suggesting future directions for research on hybrid poetics.


1982 ◽  
Vol 18 ◽  
pp. 119-135
Author(s):  
R. K. Rose

The twelfth century was a period of both political and ecclesiastical settlement in the north-west of England, when the conquerors were seeking to establish Anglo-Norman institutions in an area as much Celtic and Norse as Anglo-Saxon. The church was re-vitalised, monasticism re-established, and parish churches were built and re-built to an extent previously unknown. The response of Cumbrian’ society was favourable, but a ‘national’ flavour of the diverse elements making up that society was retained. When in 1092 William Rufus marched into the north-west, seized Carlisle, and drove out the ‘ruler’, Dolfin son of earl Gospatric of Dunbar, he was enacting the final phase of the Norman conquest of England. The border between England and Scotland was established, and this only deviated when David I brought the district back under Scottish control during the reign of Stephen. At one time part of the kingdom of Northumbria and then of the kingdom of Strathclyde, by the eleventh century the north-west had become a political no-man’s-land, the kings of England and Scotland each regarding it as belonging to his respective realm. Church life had been greatly eroded, and monastic communities, as in the rest of northern England, had totally disappeared, due as much to the unstable political situation over the previous two centuries as to the lack of any strong spiritual control. The region itself was in a depressed condition, depopulated and devastated by the invasions of king Edmund in 945, Ethelred in 1000, and most recently by early Gospatric in 1070.


1990 ◽  
Vol 19 ◽  
pp. 151-195 ◽  
Author(s):  
T. A. Heslop

The illustrated manuscripts of later Anglo-Saxon England are justly famed for their beauty. The expense lavished on the most elaborate of them is paralleled in Western Europe at the time only in late-tenth- and eleventh-century Germany. Neither France, Spain nor Italy can offer anything that is comparable to this sustained luxury production. Modern art-historical scholarship on the Anglo-Saxon material has not really attempted to explain this phenomenal industry beyond implying that the vast majority of these books were made in monastic scriptoria and for the use of the church. If this implication is correct, it begs the questions, ‘where did the money come from?’ and ‘whence the desire to spend it in this way?’ Perhaps the questions are not asked because the answers in general terms seem rather obvious. Expenditure on any particular luxury item is usually in part a question of fashion, and fashion in certain circumstances becomes a priority which determines that surplus money is directed towards its indulgence. Doubtless a response along these lines could be fleshed out by a discussion of the sources of income of the Anglo-Saxon church and of its aspirations to conspicuous display. But any exploration of monastic wealth and rivalry for prestige which attempts to explain book production at this period would be based on the assumption, and it is no more than an assumption, that the phenomenon is to be accounted for by ecclesiastical patronage. The arguments brought forward in this paper will be directed towards a different end: that many of the most famous English illuminated books of this period owe their creation to royal money, and that they were produced, sometimes without a particular recipient in mind, to be given as presents which would help cement allegiance to the crown and serve as an indication of the donor's piety. But what is the evidence for this upturn in the production ofde luxemanuscripts?


1963 ◽  
Vol 29 ◽  
pp. 50-98 ◽  
Author(s):  
J. G. D. Clark

The object of this paper is first to describe and reconstruct the halves of two Neolithic bows found in the course of peat-digging in the Somerset Levels during 1961 and second to put these in historical perspective in relation to the development of archery in north-western Europe. The outcome of comparative studies has been to show that the Somerset bows fall into the last quarter of the first major cycle in the history of the bow in this part of the world, one that lasted from the 9th to the 2nd millennium B.C., during which the bow was by far the most important weapon for both hunting and fighting. So soon as metallurgical industry had made swords and socketed spears available these weapons became predominant and indeed bows and arrowheads fade almost, if not in some areas wholly, from the archaeological record of this part of Europe. It was not until around A.D. 200–400 and, then only among the Teutonic peoples centred on Schleswig-Holstein and Denmark, that there is evidence for a revival in archery. So far as Britain is concerned, the use of the bow was reintroduced by the Anglo-Saxon invaders, probably reinforced by Danes. If the traditional source of the English Long Bow in Gwenth is correct, the weapon must be thought of as developing in the immediate wake of the Anglo-Norman invasion of the closing years of the 11th century. As a major weapon in English armies it lasted from the end of the 13th until the second half of the 16th century when it was effectively replaced by firearms.


2011 ◽  
Vol 4 (1) ◽  
pp. 15-28
Author(s):  
Ulrike Kristina Köhler

Joanne K. Rowling's teenage wizard has enchanted readers all over the globe and Harry Potter can truly be called an international hero. However, as I will argue, he is also very much an English national hero, complying with the national auto-image of the English gentleman as well as with the idea of Christian masculinity, another English auto-image holding that outdoor activity is more character-building than book learning. I will also show that the series can be read as a national heroic epic in two respects. First, Harry Potter, alias Robin Hood, has to fight the Norman yoke, an English myth haunting the nation since the Norman invasion in 1066. The series displays as a national model an apparently paternalistic Anglo-Saxon feudal society marked by tolerance and liberty as opposed to foreign rule. Second, by establishing parallels to events which took place in Nazi Germany, the series takes up the idea of fighting it, which is a popular topos in British (children's) literature which serves to reinforce a positive self-image.


Author(s):  
Carolyn Muessig

Francis of Assisi’s reported reception of the stigmata on Mount La Verna in 1224 is often considered to be the first account of an individual receiving the five wounds of Christ. The thirteenth-century appearance of this miracle, however, is not as unexpected as it first seems. Interpretations of Galatians 6:17—I bear the stigmata of the Lord Jesus Christ in my body—had been circulating in biblical commentaries since late antiquity. These works explained stigmata as wounds that martyrs received, like the apostle Paul, in their attempt to spread Christianity in the face of resistance. By the seventh century, stigmata were described as marks of Christ that priests received invisibly at their ordination. In the eleventh century, monks and nuns were perceived as bearing the stigmata in so far as they lived a life of renunciation out of love for Christ. By the later Middle Ages holy women like Catherine of Siena (d. 1380) were more frequently described as having stigmata than their male counterparts. With the religious upheavals of the sixteenth century, the way stigmata were defined reflected the diverse perceptions of Christianity held by Catholics and Protestants. This study traces the birth and evolution of religious stigmata as expressed in theological discussions and devotional practices in Western Europe from the early Middle Ages to the early seventeenth century. It also contains an introductory overview of the historiography of religious stigmata beginning in the second half of the seventeenth century to its treatment and assessment in the twenty-first century.


2018 ◽  
Vol 47 ◽  
pp. 275-305
Author(s):  
Helen Appleton

AbstractThe Anglo-Saxon mappa mundi, sometimes known as the Cotton map or Cottoniana, is found on folio 56v of London, British Library, Cotton Tiberius B. v, which dates from the first half of the eleventh century. This unique survivor from the period presents a detailed image of the inhabited world, centred on the Mediterranean. The map’s distinctive cartography, with its emphasis on islands, seas and urban spaces, reflects an Insular, West Saxon geographic imagination. As Evelyn Edson has observed, the mappa mundi appears to be copy of an earlier, larger map. This article argues that the mappa mundi’s focus on urban space, translatio imperii and Scandinavia is reminiscent of the Old English Orosius, and that it originates from a similar milieu. The mappa mundi’s northern perspective, together with its obvious dependence on and emulation of Carolingian cartography, suggest that its lost exemplar originated in the assertive England of the earlier tenth century.


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