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73852 results in Boydell & Brewer

Page 1362 of 3693

  • 5 - The Impacts of Warfare on Woodland Exploitation in Late Medieval Normandy (1364–1380): Royal Forests as Military Assets during the Hundred Years’ War

    • By Danny Lake-Giguère, Ph.D. candidate at the Universitè de Montreal, under a joint supervision with France’ Université de Rouen.
  • Edited by John France, Kelly DeVries, Clifford J. Rogers
  • Book:
    Journal of Medieval Military History
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    09 October 2019
    Print publication:
    17 June 2018, pp 79-98

  • Summary

    Recent scholarship has demonstrated that warfare had a profound impact on medieval landscapes, which it transformed and altered considerably. As it stands, environmental history provides a new way to understand warfare, as “in the long perspective of global environmental history, warfare and the preparation for war stand out as a central dimension of how societies, states, and economics have been organized.” Whether it was intentional, as demonstrated by Philip Slavin's study on the use of fire and scorched earth tactics during the Anglo-Scottish Wars, or collateral, as shown by The Ecology of Crusading, Aleksander Pluskowski's research program which studies the influence of the Baltic Crusades on the region's ecosystem, medieval warfare significantly and lastingly affected the natural world as well as human populations. Consequently, it greatly impacted how medieval powers administered their natural resources; this in turn served to emphasize the growing importance of natural resources in military affairs and ultimately contributed to the development of sustainable forestry.

    Late medieval Normandy provides an excellent field of study, as it was at the forefront of the Hundred Years’ War, a conflict that exemplifies how warfare shaped both landscape and environment. If the English chevauchées and the war against the king of Navarre and his routiers brought great devastation to the Norman countryside, they also accentuated the strain on the duchy's forests at a time of growing military needs, therefore stressing the need for better regulations. As this paper will demonstrate, the royal forests of Normandy were of vital importance to the king of France. Not only were they an essential part of the province's economy; they were also a major military asset for the kingdom in time of war. Such a notion might seem anachronistic for the Middle Ages; but a “military asset” simply represents, according to its core definition, “something useful in an effort to foil or defeat an enemy.” While one could argue that, for the medieval era, the definition better suits fortifications or available military strength, Nicholas Morton has shown that the notion can also be applied to resources of the time such as crops, mines, flocks or, as this paper will argue, forests. Normandy's shipyards, and more precisely Rouen's Clos des galées, as well as its royal castles and fortresses all required an important timber intake for their daily operation and maintenance.

  • 4 - Food, Famine, and Edward II's Military Failures

    • By Ilana Krug, associate professor of history at York College of Pennsylvania.
  • Edited by John France, Kelly DeVries, Clifford J. Rogers
  • Book:
    Journal of Medieval Military History
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    09 October 2019
    Print publication:
    17 June 2018, pp 63-78

  • Summary

    Historians have often denounced King Edward II of England (r. 1307–26) for his social, political, and martial failures. His reign was punctuated by military disasters, prompting many historians to call Edward's generalship unlucky at best and completely incompetent at worst. For example, Seymour Phillips, in comparing Edward II to his bellicose father, concluded that Edward had “little capacity as a military commander.” Similarly, Natalie Fryde called Edward's leadership amidst obviously disadvantageous circumstances “the height of futility” that “makes one wonder what precisely Edward hoped to achieve.” The emphasis has generally been on Edward's weaknesses as a strategist and tactician. But this approach tends to downplay factors that were at least as important in explaining Edward's defeats and ultimate martial humiliation: flaws in his military organization and preparation, particularly his logistical planning and his handling of supply problems. In these Edward demonstrated a greatly uneven aptitude, with episodes of significant incompetence punctuated by illustrations of more skillful handling. This can be explained partly by the increased difficulty and pressures of the problem of logistics and supply, although a decline in the ability of the English crown to manage it also was responsible. Edward's irregular logistical proficiency thus weakened his overall military capabilities, and contributed to both his subsequent reputation for general ineptitude and the military failures that characterized his reign.

    At first glance, Edward's logistical preparations do not seem much different from those of his father, nor do his policies portend woeful martial disaster. Employing the same system of purveyance or prise – the forced sale of commodities at prices set by the royal government – to obtain goods necessary for feeding his armies, Edward tapped into the surplus agricultural production of not only England, but also his dominions of Ireland and Gascony; during the Great Famine of 1315–17, his supply ventures necessarily extended further afield. At times (and at great cost) Edward relied on the Italian merchants Antonio Pessagno and Manentius Francisci to finance and oversee the purchase of victuals. Pessagno, who had been instrumental in the supply operations for the Bannockburn campaign of 1314, for which he provided at least half of all victuals, was reliable, had resources and connections, and clearly delivered.

  • 1 - In the Field with Charlemagne, 791

    • By Carl I. Hammer, published extensively on early-medieval Bavaria and Francia.
  • Edited by John France, Kelly DeVries, Clifford J. Rogers
  • Book:
    Journal of Medieval Military History
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    09 October 2019
    Print publication:
    17 June 2018, pp 1-16

  • Summary

    After deposing his first cousin, the Bavarian duke Tassilo, at the royal palace of Ingelheim in 788, Charlemagne came to Regensburg in Bavaria and secured its borders against the Avars, a semi-nomadic people who lived to the east in what is now Lower Austria and Hungary. He then celebrated Christmas at Aachen. From there later in 789, together with Saxons and Frisians, he launched a campaign across the river Elbe against Slavs known as the Wilzi, from which he returned in victory – so the official Frankish Royal Annals (ARF) relate – to Worms on the Rhine. There he celebrated Christmas 789, which was New Year's Day 790 in the Frankish reckoning, and also the following Easter (11 April) 790. That year he did not undertake a campaign but remained in Worms where, according to the unofficial Revised or so-called Einhard version of the Royal Annals, he received a delegation of Avar leaders (principes) who negotiated with him regarding the boundaries between the two realms (confiniis regnorum suorum). The result was evidently unsatisfactory to Charlemagne, and the Reviser adds ominously in his entry for the year that “this conflict and dispute was the seedbed of the war which afterwards was undertaken against the Avars.” After a short excursion on the river Main to the royal estate at Salz, Charlemagne then returned to Worms for Christmas 790.

    Charlemagne again celebrated Easter (27 March) in 791 at Worms and remained there until early summer when he relocated his court back to Regensburg, which lies on the Danube at the most northerly point of the river's course. It was the seat of one of Bavaria's five dioceses north of the Alps and the site of a major monastery, St. Emmeram. The substantial remains of the Roman legionary fortress for Raetia II, still extant today, provided usable fortifications, and the dukes of Bavaria had made it one of their principal residences since the late seventh century. It thus possessed the necessary infrastructure for a royal residence, and its location allowed ready access to the east via the Danube and south into Italy by well-established Roman routes through the Alps. Charlemagne's immediate purpose at Regensburg in 791 was to initiate the campaign against the Avars that he had apparently determined to undertake at Worms in the previous year.

  • 7 - The Skirmish: A Statistical Analysis of Minor Combats during the Hundred Years’ War, 1337–1453

    • By Ronald W. Braasch III, graduate of the United States Military Academy at West Point, and holds an MA in military history from Norwich University.
  • Edited by John France, Kelly DeVries, Clifford J. Rogers
  • Book:
    Journal of Medieval Military History
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    09 October 2019
    Print publication:
    17 June 2018, pp 123-158

  • Summary

    So many notable and perilous adventures have occurred, so many pitched battles and other deeds of arms and prowess, that he and all who've been with him in those battles and exploits … should be deemed and reputed worthy.

    This study of the Hundred Years’ War is not concerned with individual battles. Instead the intent is to analyze those “notable and perilous adventures,” “other deeds of arms and prowess,” and “exploits” that the chroniclers found worthy of mention during the conflict between England and France. These small fights, which took place during battles, sieges, and campaigns of devastation, are skirmishes. Such skirmishes have an interesting story to tell because they impact the larger-scale instruments of strategy mentioned above.

    In order to analyze the effects of skirmishes in the conduct of warfare during the Hundred Years’ War, it is first necessary to define the term “skirmish.” For the purpose of this study, a skirmish is a small fight, something between a battle and a duel, that is often, but not always, associated with a larger operation. Furthermore, a skirmish does not always take place in the ideal “open field,” but may be fought in any of a variety of locations and environments. For example, at least as much of the total fighting can take the form of smaller combats, including ambushes of foraging detachments, encounters between scouting parties, intermittent clashes of small groups of fighters at the barriers or assaults on walls during sieges – examples which one may not always envisage when one thinks of the term “skirmish.” And, while a skirmish could occur as a direct challenge (for instance in pursuit of battlefield honor), it more often took place as part of a larger operation. Thus, skirmishes affected the strategies of kings and dukes because victory and failure in these small encounters altered the operational picture of army movements. Therefore it is important to understand these smaller actions if we want to understand why armies were organized as they were, which soldiers were most valuable and why, and why the tides of war flowed in different directions at different times.

  • 2 - The Recruitment of Freemen into the Carolingian Army, or, How Far May One Argue from Silence?

    • By Walter Goffart, taught medieval history for thirty-nine years at the University of Toronto.
  • Edited by John France, Kelly DeVries, Clifford J. Rogers
  • Book:
    Journal of Medieval Military History
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    09 October 2019
    Print publication:
    17 June 2018, pp 17-34

  • Summary

    The Carolingian rulers kept armed forces busy year after year throughout the eighth century and into the ninth. With his troops, Charlemagne completed the conquest of Aquitaine, annexed Lombard Italy, invaded Spain, seized control of Bavaria, plundered the Avars, and, not least, conquered Saxony and forcibly converted its population to Christianity. He doubled the extent of the lands he inherited. These are well-known facts. Einhard filled a large part of his biography with a rundown of Charles's campaigns, and everyone reads Einhard. Thousands of Carolingian subjects served in Charles's and his predecessors’ armies, crisscrossing the kingdom to carry out their leaders’ wishes to subdue enemies. Yet the mechanisms that called them to service, the rations that fed them, and their exertions in reaching the battlefronts and returning home, have drawn little attention in recent years. The conquests are familiar, but not the means by which they were achieved.

    Much though armies were a weighty presence in the Carolingian world, they put us in mind, at present, of a “strangely neglected topic.” There is recent specialist work (notably the articles by Timothy Reuter, cited in n. 25 below), but general accounts are muted. Three comprehensive books on the Carolingian empire – by Heinrich Fichtenau, Jacques Boussard, and Rosamond McKitterick – do not include any discussion of the army. The same omission occurs in Donald Bullough's fine The Age of Charlemagne. Hans-Werner Goetz, writing on “Social and Military Institutions” in the would-be authoritative The New Cambridge Medieval History, allots the army a few lines only, and perpetuates the discredited idea that stirrups contributed to its success. In the same volume, Janet Nelson writes on “Kingship and Royal Government” with only a fleeting reference to an army. Chris Wickham's The Inheritance of Rome, 650 pages destined for a general audience, disposes of the Carolingian army in little more than a single page; his longer Framing the Early Middle Ages grants it barely ten lines, though somewhat more than is given to the same subject in Rudolf Schieffer's Carolingian volume of the standard Gebhardt Handbuch. Comparably slight attention is paid to the subject in major books by Johannes Fried and Dieter Hägermann.

    The practice of passing lightly over Carolingian military institutions is not new.

  • Conclusion

  • John S. Lee
  • Book:
    The Medieval Clothier
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    02 June 2021
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 272-281

  • Summary

    Writing in 1597, Thomas Deloney was clear about the benefits that clothiers and cloth-making brought to the wider economy and society, particularly through providing employment.

    Among all manual arts used in this land, none is more famous for desert [deserving] or more beneficial to the commonwealth than is the most necessary art of clothing; and therefore as the benefit thereof is great, so are the professors of the same to be both loved and maintained. Many wise men therefore having deeply considered the same, most bountifully have bestowed their gifts for upholding of so excellent a commodity which hath been and yet is the nourishing of many thousands of poor people. Wherefore to you, most worthy clothiers, do I dedicate this my rude work, which hath raised out of the dust of forgetfulness a most famous and worthy man, whose name was John Winchcomb, alias Jack of Newbury.

    There were faint local echoes of these sentiments in summer 2017 when Newbury Town Council applied for planning permission to install a life-sized bronze statue of Jack of Newbury, or John Winchcombe II, the subject of Deloney's work. Depicting Jack holding a yard of cloth on his right arm while raising his left hand, ‘as if to dramatically capture the moment he conceived the idea to scale up the process of dyed-cloth production’, the statue is intended to draw the eye to the remains of the Winchcombe's Tudor residence in Northbrook Street and, according to the planning application, celebrate the town's rich cultural heritage and promote ‘a greater sense of civic pride among the whole community’. One online respondent, however, posted that they would not want this ‘Tudor fat-cat industrialist’, ‘Newbury's most notorious social climbing despot’, and ‘the town magistrate who executed the Newbury martyrs by having them burned alive’, to be commemorated in this way.

    While historians usually tend to shy away from making moral judgements, they have also been uncertain about the impact that clothiers made in the wider economy and society.

  • 1 - Avoiding ‘Coarse Invective’ and ‘Unseemly Vehemence’: English Music Criticism, 1850–1870

  • Edited by Jeremy Dibble, Julian Horton
  • Book:
    British Musical Criticism and Intellectual Thought, 1850–1950
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 9-37

  • Summary

    We shall endeavour, while encouraging all controversies likely to interest the musical public, to eschew such as cannot be entertained without the manifestation of party feeling, or private animosities. We see no necessity to avoid – as some of our friends advise us – all discussion on musical subjects with contemporary journals, but we shall aim at so conducting our argument, as not to shock our readers by coarse invective, or offend our adversaries by unseemly vehemence.

    When, in December 1844, the music critic and journalist J. W. Davison (b. 1813) penned his apologia, he was well aware that the reputation of The Musical World, whose editor he had been for some eighteen months, was in danger of being sacrificed on an altar of frivolity, ‘violent language and directly personal remarks’. He continued:

    We freely confess our faults, and will not attempt to deny that strong personal motives have frequently engaged us in disputes, of which both the matter and the manner were wholly at variance with the due we are so proud to owe to our subscribers and the public. Let us here – while in the act of confession – promise amendment – and let this be an answer before-hand, to all who may think proper to attack us in an unbecoming spirit – that we shall not level ourselves to their standards by emulating their ill taste.

    That Davison should have felt it necessary to perform such an undertaking says much about the rumbustious nature of early Victorian journalism. At a time when freedom of expression, provided that it was not blasphemous, treasonable, or seditious, was prized, opinions were voiced and reputations traduced with little or no concern for those affected. Davison had himself been far from blameless. With a liking for satire, he had appropriated from Punch the character of ‘Jenkins’, a fictitious journalist supposedly on the staff of The Morning Post, and grafted his identity onto that of Charles Lewis Gruneisen (b. 1806), the Post's music critic. To Davison, who had aspirations as both composer and pianist, Gruneisen's lack of musical expertise and background as a foreign and war correspondent made him quite unqualified to write about music.

  • 2 - Spencer, Sympathy and the Oxford School of Music Criticism

    • By Bennett Zon, Durham University Centre for Nineteenth-Century Studies and a Director of the International Network for Music Theology.
  • Edited by Jeremy Dibble, Julian Horton
  • Book:
    British Musical Criticism and Intellectual Thought, 1850–1950
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 38-63

  • Summary

    Introduction

    Musical critics often give applause to compositions as being “scientific” – as being meritorious not in respect of the emotions they arouse but as appealing to the cultured intelligence of the musician … I hold these to be perverted beliefs having their roots in the prevailing enormous error respecting the constitution of mind. In that part of life concerned with music, as in other parts of life, the intellect is the minister and the emotions the things ministered to.

    STRONG words coming from a self-confessed, rank musical amateur. From anyone else they might be dismissed as the mad ravings of a lunatic. Coming from a Victorian intellectual titan and author of one the first evolutionary studies of musical origins, however, Herbert Spencer's words carried a great weight of authority.

    Public intellectual and serial controversialist, Spencer (1820–1903) came from a relatively unmusical family and was unable to play an instrument, but he clearly enjoyed music and from the late 1840s he regularly attended opera and concerts in London. Around the same time he began learning how to sing from Hullah's famous singing manual, and although his interest remained more intellectual than practical he retained a love of singing by the piano, later chiding his close friend (and possibly lover) the novelist George Eliot for never joining in. Recent work on Spencer reflects an interest in his work-a-day musicality – portraying him as an amateur in the strictest sense, and as a true, ardent lover of music – but most work on Spencer and music tends to focus almost exclusively on his evolutionary theory, and there is practically nothing on his musical criticism. As John Offer, Charles Brotman and I suggest, so deeply interwoven is evolution within his philosophical programme as a whole that it is difficult, nearly impossible, to disaggregate it from other elements of his thought, especially his music criticism.

    To do that requires more than simply disentangling the strands in Spencer's evolutionary thinking; rather, it requires an examination of their relationship to a curiously neglected musicological topic – sympathy. For Spencer and his philosophical descendants in the Oxford School of music criticism, sympathy is at the root of human advancement. At the root of sympathy, however, is music; musical feelings, Spencer opines, ‘are the chief media of sympathy’.

  • 6 - Analysis and Value Judgement: Schumann, Bruckner and Tovey's Essays in Musical Analysis

  • Edited by Jeremy Dibble, Julian Horton
  • Book:
    British Musical Criticism and Intellectual Thought, 1850–1950
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 123-153

  • Summary

    Tovey and the Symphony after Beethoven

    DONALD Francis Tovey's writings have polarized scholarly opinion since his death in 1940. By 1980, opposing critical positions had been staked out by Hans Keller and Joseph Kerman, who respectively styled his analyses as blandly descriptive and humanely critical. Subsequently, Tovey (1875–1940) has been characterized as a ‘Victorian man of letters’, a product of fin-de-siecle British intellectual history, and a precursor of post-war music theory. The informality of his approach, his belief in the virtues of the ‘naïve listener’ and the capacity of musical works to reveal their aesthetic content without the need for systematic theory have proved frustrating and appealing in equal measure, furnishing evidence of conservatism and postmodernity avant la lettre. These debates notwithstanding, his writings have proved remarkably enduring as aids to informed listening, sustaining value judgements about composers and works irrespective of the vicissitudes of academic reappraisal.

    The Essays in Musical Analysis have enjoyed an especially rich afterlife. Conceived chiefly as programme notes for the Reid Concerts in Edinburgh and (for the Brahms symphonies) the visit of the Meiningen Orchestra to London in 1902, the Essays have proved uniquely successful at mediating popular instruction and analytical insight. Their generic nuances – the ways they convey an essentially, if sometimes covertly, historical model of how genres develop – however await detailed excavation. Tovey's hostility to abstraction complicates this task, or at least makes it a simple matter in some cases and an act of lexical archaeology in others. His essays on the concerto, for example, mobilize the notion of the genre's ‘true’ form expounded in ‘The Classical Concerto’, in which Tovey confidently installed a Mozartian paradigm as a generic benchmark. Despite writing extensively on its repertoire, however, he never articulated a comparable model for the symphony. The tendency, evident particularly in German-language literature, to orientate the genre's history around Beethoven is not overtly pursued, despite being strongly implied, and no single essay sketches a paradigm of symphonic practice, Beethovenian or otherwise. Tovey's criticisms of the symphonic and concertante repertoires nevertheless operate comparable methodologies: a notional ‘true’ symphony, which coordinates critical engagement with a view of the genre's proper evolution, still underpins analysis.

  • 9 - Anti-Intellectualism and the Rhetoric of ‘National Character’ in Music: The Vulgarity of Over-Refinement

  • Edited by Jeremy Dibble, Julian Horton
  • Book:
    British Musical Criticism and Intellectual Thought, 1850–1950
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 199-234

  • Summary

    As Europeans go, the English are not intellectual. They have a horror of abstract thought, they feel no need for any philosophy or systematic ‘world-view’.

    A complete anesthesia to formal considerations is the most conspicuous common factor exhibited by English artists in every age and in every medium, and one which is shared by the public for which they create.

    Vaughan Williams started his life as an academic composer which is practically equivalent to saying that the first influences to which he was exposed were Germanic.

    THIS chapter makes a series of claims that should be stated at the outset. First, while we should be highly suspicious of the rhetoric of ‘national character’ in general, and of critical assessments of music based on notions of ‘Englishness’ in particular, the discursive strategies involved in these assessments provide a glimpse into ideological debates that have shaped musical culture and are therefore worth historicizing. Second, it is tempting to draw a causal link between the idea of anti-intellectualism in English national character on the one hand and the more recent narrative about the absence of ‘intellectuals’ in Britain on the other. The latter narrative arises from scepticism towards the close ties between British political and intellectual elites of the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries (the so-called ‘intellectual aristocracy’) and infers from these ties the lack of a separate intelligentsia capable of providing a systematic critique of the prevailing social structure. This claim judges British thinkers against Continental models of the ‘intellectual’ – a comparison that seems to find the former complicit in maintaining social hierarchy. The comparison also assumes that political dominance must necessarily be conservative, pitted against radical dissent. Conversely, anti-intellectualism is typically cast as the preserve of the reactionary, the conservative and the philistine – a characterization that certainly resonates with the anti-intellectualisms of our own time. An examination of early twentieth-century British music criticism, however, suggests that, in fact, anti-intellectualism became a means to subvert dominant structures – in this case, professional and institutional monopolies – serving more radical and modernist ends than hereto acknowledged. Far from constituting a reactionary bid to sure up the status quo, I will suggest that musical thinkers used anti-intellectualism to link ideas about English national identity with a concern for aesthetic modernity, construed as distinct from Continental models of thought and practice, including the very model that associated the ‘intellectual’ with revolution.

  • The Catalogue

  • Argent Alan
  • Book:
    The Richard Baxter Treatises
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    15 August 2018
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 9-264

  • Summary

    Treatises, i. 1 [1685]

    Brief of the charges against Baxter

    ff 2–13b (ff 2v, 3v, 4v, 5v, 6v, 7v, 8v, 9v, 10v, 11v are blank)

    Brief of the charges against Baxter arising from his publication of A Paraphrase on the New Testament, 1685.

    See Rel. iii. 198.

    ff 2–3: The Accused Words

    372 x 304 mm.

    ‘I. On Math. 5.19. Whosoever shall break one of these least Commandments, and shall teach men so, shall be called least in the Kingdome of God.’

    With Baxter's corrections and crossings out.

    For an improved copy of this, see Treatises, i. 5.

    ff 4–5: Untitled

    375 x 305 mm.

    ‘II. Mark 3:6, When Christ had by Miracle cured a Man, its said “The Pharisees went forth ' straightway took Councell with the Herodians against him, how they might destroy him.”’

    With Baxter's underlinings and crossings out.

    ff 6–7: Untitled

    375 x 305 mm.

    ‘III. The next Accusation is Mark. 9:39. [“Jesus said forbid him not, for there is no man who shall do a Miracle in my Name that can lightly speak evil of me; for he that is not against us is on our part.”’

    With Baxter's insertions and crossings out.

    f 8: Untitled

    195 x 305 mm.

    ‘IV. Mark 11:31. The Text is [“They reasoned with themselves saying If we shall say from Heaven he will say why then did ye not believe him? But if we shall say of men, they feared the people, for all men counted John that he was a prophet indeed: And they Answered we cannot tell.”’

    With marginal note in a clear hand.

    f 9: Untitled

    190 x 305 mm.

    ‘V. Mark 12.38.39.40. Beware of the Scribes who love to go in Long Cloathing, ' love Salutations in the Market places, who devour Widows, Houses, ' for a pretence make long Prayers: These shall receive greater damnation.’ Some crossings out and underlining by Baxter.

    f 10: Untitled

    228 x 305 mm.

    ‘VI. Luk. 10.2. The Harvest truly is great, but the Laborers are but few: Pray ye therefore the Lord of the Harvest that he would send forth Laborers into his Harvest.’

  • 3 - Identifying Clothiers

  • John S. Lee
  • Book:
    The Medieval Clothier
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    02 June 2021
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 115-156

  • Summary

    LOCATING CLOTH-WORKERS AND CLOTHIERS

    Evidence for the extent and distribution of cloth-workers and clothiers in the late Middle Ages can be drawn from a range of sources, including the poll tax returns of 1377–81, the ulnage accounts recording subsidies paid for cloth sold, the rolls of the Court of Common Pleas, and from the travel writings of John Leland, the Tudor antiquarian. These sources each present their own challenges of interpretation.

    The ulnage accounts, despite their many limitations, can be used to explore the changing distribution of the cloth industry. In 1356–58, the leading counties for cloth production were, in descending order, Hampshire, Gloucestershire, London and Middlesex, Somerset (including Dorset), Lincolnshire and Kent (see table in Appendix 1). The industries were predominantly urban based, and these county totals mainly reflect production in Winchester, Bristol, London, Wells, Bath, Lincoln and Canterbury, which together with Salisbury and York, were the leading centres of cloth-making at this time. The south-west region, stretching from Southampton and Winchester through Salisbury to Bristol and Gloucester, and comprising the five counties of Hampshire, Wiltshire, Dorset, Somerset and Gloucestershire, accounted for over half the total cloth sold in England. By 1394–98, Somerset had become the leading county for cloth production, followed by Wiltshire, Gloucestershire, Yorkshire and Warwickshire. Although the large towns of Salisbury, Bristol, York and Coventry still comprised one-third of the total cloth sold, many smaller towns and rural communities were now supplying cloth for sale, perhaps accounting for up to half of all output. The southwestern counties still made up over half of the total sales in the country, and the other major textile-producing areas comprised the Suffolk–Essex border, the city of York and the growing industry of the West Riding, the city of Coventry, and Berkshire. By 1468–73, the ulnage totals suggest that Suffolk had become the leading county, with Somerset close behind, followed by Yorkshire, Gloucestershire and Wiltshire. The industry was now becoming increasingly based in small towns and rural communities. While the general trend was for cloth production to increase during the fifteenth century, the 1460s were a period of downturn, so a comparison of the total cloth sales recorded in the ulnage accounts between 1394–98 and 1468–73 shows a fall of 20 per cent.

  • 6 - Troubled Minds: Mental Illness and Suicide

  • Noble Jonathan
  • Book:
    That Jealous Demon, My Wretched Health
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    05 September 2018
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 143-186

  • Summary

    We poets in our youth begin in gladness:

    But thereof come in the end despondency and madness

    William Wordsworth, ‘Resolution and Independence’, 1807

    Some Psychiatric Disorders

    A. Non-organic disease

  • Neuroses

  • • Anxiety

  • • Depression

  • • Obsessive-compulsive disorder

  • • Paranoia

  • Psychosis

  • • Schizophrenia

  • • Bipolar affective disorder (previously known as manic-depressive psychosis)

  • Personality disorder

  • • Alcoholism

  • • Other addictions

  • • Psychopathy

    • B. Organic brain disease

  • • Dementias

  • - Alzheimer's disease

  • - Niemann Pick disease (aka Pick's)

  • - Senile dementia (arterio-sclerotic)

  • • Wernicke's encephalopathy (alcoholism)

  • • General paralysis of the insane, or GPI (third-stage syphilis)

    • Diseases in group B, unlike those in A, are diseases whose consequences would be identifiable at an autopsy.

    Introduction: Mental Illness Having already regarded alcoholism as a mental disturbance, we now consider other psychiatric disorders. It is a complicated group of disorders and more difficult to categorise than physical diseases, but the list above attempts a simple, if somewhat dated, classification. At some stage in their lives at least 25% of the Western population will report psychological illness. The question is where variations within a socially accepted range of normality merge into an illness. There have been repeated attempts to assess the role of madness in creativity. Is mental illness a positive driving force or an inhibition when considering the end product, be that a painting, novel or symphony? In a review of mental illness the names of great composers featured less than those of painters, poets or writers.

    If we consider composers discussed in other chapters, it is clear that many fit into the list. Ravel (Chapter 3) had pre-senile dementia, and Rachmaninov (Chapter 10) and Elgar (Chapter 2) were melancholic, if not frankly depressive. Sibelius (Chapter 2) sometimes drank too much. Musorgsky (Chapter 5) did suffer from alcoholic dementia. Donizetti, Smetana and Wolf (Chapter 4) developed general paralysis of the insane (GPI). This chapter is confined to composers with major non-organic psychiatric problems (group A) which were sufficient to affect their compositional abilities or become life-threatening and/or to require periods of institutional care.

    It is interesting to reflect on past psychiatric care. Straitjackets and padded cells are all but gone, and with them immersion in hot and cold baths.

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