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This chapter explores the contrasting treatment of English and Welsh-set fairy narratives produced by authors working in England, or aligned with English political sympathies and authority, in the late twelfth century. It begins with Walter Map’s De nugis curialium, a collection of tales and historical anecdotes which include the earliest recorded insular fairy accounts. In De nugis we see a contrasting treatment of the English and Welsh fairy materials: the English fairy is presented as a historical event, while the Welsh is more straightforwardly fabulous. Map’s rejection of Welsh mirabilia reads in relation to the prophetic elements he identifies in his Welsh-set fairy narratives, elements which appear to be held in a close relationship to an Anglo-Latin historiographical concern with the British lie of Arthur’s return from Avalon, and the (related) representation of Welsh-set fairy mirabilia as improper objects of wonder. This is a feature that we find in Gerald of Wales’s Welsh writings also, including his account of the succubus encounter of the south Welsh prophet Meilerius (Meilyr), whose prophetic visions fuel ill-fated rebellion against the English. Finally, the chapter explores analogous accounts of English fairies by William of Newburgh, which are possessed of a marvellous historicity that could only be situated by English authors within an English geographical and cultural context. While for late twelfth-century authors in England, English fairy narratives might have a place in the historiographical record, their Welsh counterparts could not.
The introduction to Fantastic histories explores the principles of marvellous discernment, derived from Augustine, that informed the distinction between true and false marvels in the writing of medieval fairy narratives – a distinction which was often applied in line with a clear set of political investments, determining whose histories might be believed and whose were the stuff of pure fiction. It approaches the construction, and rejection, of historical mirabilia in relation to ‘communities of wonder’, a new application of the concept of the ‘emotional community’ by which wonder is accepted as a legitimate affective response depending on the identification of the group within which the account is understood to have been generated; and in which context acceptance or rejection reads as a value statement on the group itself, its intellectual sophistication, and its right to historical self expression. This treatment and use of wonder offer a notable point of intersection with Homi Bhabha’s work on ‘signs and wonders’, suggestive of a new approach to medieval postcoloniality, not least in relation to the treatment of fairy marvels between Wales and England.
The introduction delineates the ways in which women’s reproductive bodies have been erased and obfuscated by editorial and translation practices from the nineteenth century to the contemporary moment. This chapter establishes and defines the original methodology of the book, termed ‘hysteric philology’, a practice that combines traditional philology with contemporary feminist and medical epistemologies. This method allows for close examination of language, which breaks apart the tidy but inaccurate veneer of polite inattention to the specific elements of women’s medicine. The remedies further offer an avenue to study ordinary, rather than extraordinary, early medieval women.
This chapter disentangles the language around childbirth in Old English remedies. An apparent lack in remedies for childbirth is complicated by the misunderstanding of the language for childbirth and for other reproductive processes. Using hysteric philology, the Old English terms afedan, geberan, geeacnian and cennan are examined in context and differentiated. These terms have been translated irregularly at best; for instance, the same term might be translated as childbirth in one remedy and then conception in the next, with no clear logic for the change. However, the chapter finds specific denotations by examining the terms individually, collectively, and in their manuscript and textual context, ultimately distinguishing remedies that have been treated as indeterminate and locating a range of remedies that actually work to address childbirth.
This chapter uses the terms tudder, clænsian, and afeormian to identify the nature of gynaecological cleansing and purging in the medical tradition. Contemporary US culture frames miscarriage, stillbirth and early abortion as separate categories; however, the medical texts construct these processes as a common category constituted by the notion of delayed menstruation. The chapter concludes that the cultural belief in ensoulment provides space for women to understand the reproductive process in blurrier ways that depend upon women’s own assessment of their reproductive status. In this way, medieval texts may illuminate our contemporary attitudes toward reproductive health and encourage physicians now to trust women.
Late Antiquity (ca. 250–600 CE) was a world at war: barbarian migrations, civil wars, raids, and increasingly porous frontiers affected millions of its inhabitants. While military and political historians have long grappled with this history, scholars of late antique society and culture rarely interrogate the consequences of near constant warfare on civilian populations, fighting forces, and the built environment. War and Community in Late Antiquity responds to this oversight by assembling archeologists, art historians, social historians, and scholars of religion to examine the impact of war on communities (households, cities, religious groups, elites and non-elites) and their reactions to ongoing stressors. Topics include the violence of everyday life as backdrop to that of war; the rhetoric of warfare and its significance for Christian authors; the effects of captivity and billeting on households; communal agency and the fortification of civilian spaces; and the challenges of articulating Christian imperial power in wartime.
This article presents the first sustained narratological analysis of the embedded stories in Nikephoros Bryennios’ Material for History. It argues that pleasure in storytelling was a valued feature of Byzantine historiography and that Bryennios’ anecdotes derive their appeal from four interrelated features: eventfulness, tellability, narrativity, and immersion. The article further contends that, by mimicking oral storytelling through rhetorical questions, direct speech, and vivid sensory detail, Bryennios crafts narratives suited to performative settings while preserving a sense of authenticity. It concludes by proposing narratological criteria for identifying and analysing anecdotes across Byzantine historiography and reassessing the role of pleasure in historical writing.
This book provides a reassessment of Ptolemaic state intervention in industry and trade, an issue central to the economic and political history of Hellenistic Egypt. Based on a full survey of Greek and Demotic Egyptian sources, and drawing on theoretical perspectives, it challenges the prevailing interpretation of 'state monopolies'. While the Ptolemies displayed an impressive capacity to intervene in economic processes, their aims were purely fiscal, and the extent of their reach was limited. Every sector was characterised by significant market activity, either recognised and supported by the state, or illicit, where the Ptolemies did make attempts to establish exclusive control. Nico Dogaer provides a full account of several key industries and presents new conclusions about the impact of Ptolemaic rule, including on economic performance. The book also makes an important contribution to broader debates about the relation between states and markets in historical societies.
How do you create a fictional story out of an historical period? What do you need to know about the people, the places, the events? What’s the better inspiration: historical scholarship or popular knowledge? A writer’s guide to Ancient Rome serves as inspiration and a guide to the Roman population, economy, laws, leisure, and religion for the author, student, general reader seeking an introduction to what made the Romans tick. The Guide considers trends and themes from roughly 200 BCE to 200 CE with the occasional foray into the antecedents and legacy on either side of the period. Each chapter explicates its main themes with examples from the original sources. Throughout are suggestions for resources to mine for the subject at hand and particular bits affected by scholarly debate and changing interpretation based on new discoveries or reinterpretation of written and material remains. It’s up to you whether or not you will produce a work of careful verisimilitude or anachronistic silliness (or one of the flavours in between). That’s your call as creator. This little guide is but a brief survey of a vast quantity of resources, sources, and scholarship on the Classical world that is available for reflection, evaluation, interpretation, and creativity. It is intended to open doors for further reading and consideration as you construct your own Roman world – it’s a welcome mat inviting you in to listen to the stories of the Romans and to contribute tales of your own.