The art of making and using invisible ink, James Daybell informs us, was both described in printed books of secrets and manuscript recipe books and practised by letter-writers in early modern England (pp. 166–8). Ingredients such as vinegar, urine, and the juice of oranges, lemons and onions were used to write covert messages in letters that could only be revealed through the application of water, heat or a fine powder like coal dust. During his imprisonment in the Tower of London in the late 1590s, the Jesuit priest John Gerard employed orange juice to write – with a quill toothpick – secret messages to friends outside. While acting as a spy in the 1580s, Thomas Rogers regularly used invisible ink in letters to Sir Francis Walsingham and Sir Henry Palavicino. Through these examples and many more, Daybell – as if applying a pinch of coal dust – makes visible the materiality of invisible ink, revealing the physical properties of a substance which concealed its physical presence. Indeed, as a whole The Material Letter in Early Modern England might be said to render the invisible visible. Daybell’s ‘material readings’ of the early modern letter in its almost infinite variety of forms draw attention to and elucidate the significance of a wide range of material characteristics that are obscured by both modern printed editions of letters and studies that focus on these documents’ ‘literariness’ rather than their physical features. From the outset, the book urges the importance of letters’ material details, including those that cannot be transcribed or categorised as text. Take, for example, the sketch of a gallows on the address leaf of a 1601 letter from Sir Robert Cecil to Sir Francis Darcy, a document which adorns the front cover of Daybell’s book and supplies his opening case study. Positioned below the words ‘post hast hast hast for life life life lyfe’, the drawing was probably intended to communicate the urgency of the letter to a partially literate bearer (p. 6; also see p. 142). While such details are not always a matter of life and death, they are, Daybell demonstrates, worthy of scholarly attention.
Daybell has produced ‘the first full-length monograph study of manuscript letters and the culture and social practices of letter-writing in early modern England’ (p. 10). He concentrates on a period that begins in 1512, when Sir Brian Tuke became Henry VIII’s Master of the Posts, and ends in 1635, when Charles I issued a proclamation that opened up the royal post service to private correspondence. This period witnessed many important changes in epistolary culture, including ‘a significant extension of letter-writing skills throughout society, an expansion in the range of uses to which letters were put and significant developments in epistolary theory and practices’ (p. 10). Daybell’s material approach aligns him with Alan Stewart, Jonathan Gibson and others whose work highlights the importance of material aspects of letters, as well as bibliographers and other interpreters of texts that have demonstrated the need to consider ‘the material meanings of texts’ in early modern studies more generally (pp. 14–15).(1) Daybell draws extensively on these and many other secondary sources, but also on his own published work, for he has already effectively demonstrated the advantages of attending to letters’ materiality elsewhere.(2) Readers of The Material Letter are never allowed to forget that the epistle was not just a genre but a thing, an object that generated – and, in the case of extant letters, continues to generate – meanings through complex, variable and interrelated material signs. Having consulted over 10,000 manuscript letters as well as a great variety of other primary sources in both manuscript and print, Daybell transports us into the archive as he examines physical characteristics of letters such as ink, handwriting, watermarks, chain lines, folds and wax seals. His general observations about epistolary culture and practices are always reinforced by references to specific letters, which he analyses through diverse bibliographical techniques, including codicology (the physical description of manuscripts), palaeography (the study of handwriting), sigillography (the study of seals) and diplomatics (the study of documents). And this is not materiality for materiality’s sake. Daybell shows that thorough investigations of letters’ physical features extend our understanding of what he calls the ‘social materiality’ of the letter, that is, ‘the social and cultural practices of manuscript letters and the material conditions and contexts in which they were produced, disseminated and consumed’ (p. 230). It is largely for this reason that Daybell is justified in identifying his interdisciplinary engagement with the materiality of the letter as ‘a mode of analysis that complements traditional historical and literary approaches, as well as more recent linguistic and gender-based analyses’ (p. 229). Whatever their particular focus and methodology, future studies of early modern letters will doubtless be indebted to this groundbreaking work.
Continue reading the review here
Thursday, January 17, 2013
Review: Gaffney, Phyllis. Constructions of Childhood and Youth in Old French Narrative.
James A. Schultz
The first chapter of Phyllis Gaffney's Constructions of Childhood and Youth in Old French Narrative begins with a brief review of the historical and literary-historical scholarship on medieval childhood, along with the obligatory discussion of the theories of Philippe Ariès (3-12). Then Gaffney distinguishes her own project: "unlike previous approaches to the topic, this book will foreground considerations of genre" (11). She believes that changes in the representation of children in French texts over the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries have "to do with the emergence of the romance genre" (11). Gaffney defines genres in conventional terms. While the epic "reflects a warrior world" in which the protagonist's "acts are a means of serving some public end" that is "accepted without question," romance shifts the emphasis "towards inner, personal values [and] the analysis of intimate feelings" (16). While the epic "hero's actions and essence are identical," romance "brings a more dynamic view of the protagonist" who "as an individual must discover his identity" (18). These preliminary definitions are important, since they provide the terms on which Gaffney relies to make her argument about childhood and genre.
Before turning to that argument, however, Gaffney describes, in chapter two, a "repertoire of traditional images" on which "medieval poets and their audiences" could draw in "their constructions of childhood and youth" (23). Recognizing the difficulty of limiting medieval childhood to a "fixed span of years" (26) or of making clear divisions within childhood, Gaffney takes "childhood, adolescence and youth...as one unbroken web" (30). After surveying the various schemes for the "ages of man" (31-34), she moves on to the traditional "attributes of childhood" (34-37)--like children's lack of speech or understanding--and then to the traditional "attributes of youth" (37- 34)--such as their susceptibility to sensual pleasure and lack of balance. Common medieval ideas about the education of children follow, including the function of punishment and the relation between nature and nurture (43-48). Finally Gaffney surveys "stock figures" and "narrative archetypes" (49-56)--the prodigious birth, the secret upbringing, the child wise beyond his years. Although this chapter contains little that will surprise medievalists, especially those familiar with the scholarship on medieval childhood, it nevertheless makes an important point: the Old French texts to which Gaffney turns next were written in a world where these ideas were common currency, and the texts must be understood in relation to them.
The first of the two core chapters in Gaffney's study, chapter three presents "changing models of childhood and youth in the chanson de geste." The chanson de geste is treated before romance because, even though it is not the most likely genre in which to find children, it comes first chronologically, and the real goal of the project is "to see how the narrative portrayal of the young evolves" (59, my emphasis). In the first part of the chapter, Gaffney presents a "threefold typology" (62) of epic youth. The first type is the "unheroic" or "normal dependent child," who adds "realistic detail to the idealized epic world" (62). Some texts portray "dependent children from lower social strata" (63), others child kings whose "weakness" and "vulnerability" leave them unable to defend the lands they have inherited (65-66). The second type of epic child is the "exemplary victim" (62), represented by Vivien. Over the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, "the figure of Vivien...seems to grow more immature and more juvenile...as the later chansons de geste give prominence to childish traits absent in earlier songs" (67). I am not convinced, however, that the later versions imply a criticism of Vivien's youthful démesure (71) and "lack of reasonable restraint" (73). The negative judgments all come from modern scholars, while the quotations from the medieval texts express nothing but awe for the precocious heroism that drives Vivien to his death. Vivien's younger brother Gui exemplifies the third type of epic youth, the puer senex or youth wise beyond his years (75). Here too Gaffney can chart "changes in epic taste that...increasingly emphasize youth as a time of unconscious inexperience" (74). She is able to do this because she sees Rainouart as Gui's "replacement" (78) in the later installments of the Guillaume cycle, and Rainouart is, of course, famously inexperienced. The second section of the chapter, which is devoted to "complex family plots" (82-93), illustrates one of the less attractive features of this study. Gaffney works through five epics, one after the other, summarizing a good deal of the plot of each and commenting on the parents and children she encounters. These summaries take up a lot of space but yield no general conclusions about epic childhood. The final section of the chapter begins by reviewing what has already been said about "the epic view of the child" (94). It concludes by considering three "innovations" in the content of the epics that may indicate "the influence of romance poetry" (99): the increased prominence of young females (99-102); the way a hero's "past history begins to be connected with his identity" (102); and the heightened attention given the theme of youthful "ignorance and inexperience" (103).
Continue to read here.
The first chapter of Phyllis Gaffney's Constructions of Childhood and Youth in Old French Narrative begins with a brief review of the historical and literary-historical scholarship on medieval childhood, along with the obligatory discussion of the theories of Philippe Ariès (3-12). Then Gaffney distinguishes her own project: "unlike previous approaches to the topic, this book will foreground considerations of genre" (11). She believes that changes in the representation of children in French texts over the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries have "to do with the emergence of the romance genre" (11). Gaffney defines genres in conventional terms. While the epic "reflects a warrior world" in which the protagonist's "acts are a means of serving some public end" that is "accepted without question," romance shifts the emphasis "towards inner, personal values [and] the analysis of intimate feelings" (16). While the epic "hero's actions and essence are identical," romance "brings a more dynamic view of the protagonist" who "as an individual must discover his identity" (18). These preliminary definitions are important, since they provide the terms on which Gaffney relies to make her argument about childhood and genre.
Before turning to that argument, however, Gaffney describes, in chapter two, a "repertoire of traditional images" on which "medieval poets and their audiences" could draw in "their constructions of childhood and youth" (23). Recognizing the difficulty of limiting medieval childhood to a "fixed span of years" (26) or of making clear divisions within childhood, Gaffney takes "childhood, adolescence and youth...as one unbroken web" (30). After surveying the various schemes for the "ages of man" (31-34), she moves on to the traditional "attributes of childhood" (34-37)--like children's lack of speech or understanding--and then to the traditional "attributes of youth" (37- 34)--such as their susceptibility to sensual pleasure and lack of balance. Common medieval ideas about the education of children follow, including the function of punishment and the relation between nature and nurture (43-48). Finally Gaffney surveys "stock figures" and "narrative archetypes" (49-56)--the prodigious birth, the secret upbringing, the child wise beyond his years. Although this chapter contains little that will surprise medievalists, especially those familiar with the scholarship on medieval childhood, it nevertheless makes an important point: the Old French texts to which Gaffney turns next were written in a world where these ideas were common currency, and the texts must be understood in relation to them.
The first of the two core chapters in Gaffney's study, chapter three presents "changing models of childhood and youth in the chanson de geste." The chanson de geste is treated before romance because, even though it is not the most likely genre in which to find children, it comes first chronologically, and the real goal of the project is "to see how the narrative portrayal of the young evolves" (59, my emphasis). In the first part of the chapter, Gaffney presents a "threefold typology" (62) of epic youth. The first type is the "unheroic" or "normal dependent child," who adds "realistic detail to the idealized epic world" (62). Some texts portray "dependent children from lower social strata" (63), others child kings whose "weakness" and "vulnerability" leave them unable to defend the lands they have inherited (65-66). The second type of epic child is the "exemplary victim" (62), represented by Vivien. Over the course of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, "the figure of Vivien...seems to grow more immature and more juvenile...as the later chansons de geste give prominence to childish traits absent in earlier songs" (67). I am not convinced, however, that the later versions imply a criticism of Vivien's youthful démesure (71) and "lack of reasonable restraint" (73). The negative judgments all come from modern scholars, while the quotations from the medieval texts express nothing but awe for the precocious heroism that drives Vivien to his death. Vivien's younger brother Gui exemplifies the third type of epic youth, the puer senex or youth wise beyond his years (75). Here too Gaffney can chart "changes in epic taste that...increasingly emphasize youth as a time of unconscious inexperience" (74). She is able to do this because she sees Rainouart as Gui's "replacement" (78) in the later installments of the Guillaume cycle, and Rainouart is, of course, famously inexperienced. The second section of the chapter, which is devoted to "complex family plots" (82-93), illustrates one of the less attractive features of this study. Gaffney works through five epics, one after the other, summarizing a good deal of the plot of each and commenting on the parents and children she encounters. These summaries take up a lot of space but yield no general conclusions about epic childhood. The final section of the chapter begins by reviewing what has already been said about "the epic view of the child" (94). It concludes by considering three "innovations" in the content of the epics that may indicate "the influence of romance poetry" (99): the increased prominence of young females (99-102); the way a hero's "past history begins to be connected with his identity" (102); and the heightened attention given the theme of youthful "ignorance and inexperience" (103).
Continue to read here.
Hortulus ~ The Online Graduate Journal of Medieval Studies
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Our upcoming issue will be published in the spring of 2013, and concerns itself with the theme: wounds, torture, and the grotesque. These subjects have become increasingly popular in medieval scholarship. Ideas of the grotesque are being reconsidered in relation to concepts of race and racial theory, a discussion which has contemporary impacts far beyond the academic world. Concurrent to these developments in medieval studies has been an increase in scholarly attention paid to these subject areas in the field of medical humanities, which has further energized academic discussion of corporeality and the body. Such explorations include the analysis of suffering, personhood, and our responsibility to one another as human beings.
Hortulus invites full-length articles which consider these themes either individually or in tandem. We particularly encourage the submission of proposals that take a strongly theoretical and/or interdisciplinary approach, and that examine new and previously unconsidered aspects of these subjects. Possible topics may be drawn from any discipline: history, art history, archaeology, literature, linguistics, music, theology, etc. Work from every interpretive angle is encouraged – memory, gender, historiography, medievalism, consilience, etc. Most importantly, we seek engaging, original work that contributes to our collective understanding of the medieval era.
Contributions should be in English and roughly 6,000 – 12,000 words, including all documentation and citational apparatus; book reviews are typically between 500-1,000 words but cannot exceed 2,000. All notes must be endnotes, and a bibliography must be included; submission guidelines can be found here. Contributions may be submitted to hortulus@hortulus-journal.com and are due February 15, 2013. If you are interested in submitting a paper but feel you would need additional time, please send a query email and details about an expected time-scale for your submission. Queries about submissions or the journal more generally can also be sent to this address.
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