I SSUE no. 6 | JULY, 2018
I SSN 2056- 7901
This jour nal is p ub lished by st udent s and staff of t he Dep ar t m ent of Hist or y at Sw ansea Univer sit y. The online ver sion of t his jour nal can b e found at htt p s://g or ffennolsw an.w ord p ress.com ISSN 20 56-790 1 All r ig ht s reser ved . No p ar t of t his p ub licat ion m ay b e rep rod uced , st ored in a retr ieval system , or in any for m or by any m eans, wit hout t he p r ior per m ission in w r it ing of t he p ub lisher, nor b e ot her wise circulated in any for m or b ind ing or cover ot her t han t hat in w hich it is p ub lished and wit hout a sim ilar cond it ion includ ing t his cond it ion b eing im p osed on t he sub seq uent p ub lisher. Log o, cover desig n, and layout by Har r y J am es Cochrane ÂŠ Sw ansea Univer sit y, 20 18 We w ould like t o t hank t he Colleg e of Ar t s and Hum anit ies (COAH). This p roject w ould not b e p ossib le wit hout t hem .
Our Ed it or s Dr Char lie Rozier, Sup p or t ing Lect urer Char lie Rozier is a Lect urer in Med ieval Hist or y and em plo yab ilit y coord inat or in t he Hist or y Dep ar t m ent . He has helped us t o or g anise t he jour nal t his year, over seeing t he p roject and helping us if we exper ience any p rob lem s in t he p rocess. You can find out m ore ab out Char lie?s research and teaching interest s at htt p ://w w w.sw ansea.ac.uk/staff/academ ic/ar t shum anit ies/ hc/c.c.rozier/ Em ail: c.c.rozier @sw ansea.ac.uk Char lie welcom es st udent s t o follow him on Twitter : @rozier hist or ian
Am y Meg son, Med ieval St ud ies Master 's St udent , Chief Ed it or My research interest s cover m ed ieval hist or y and literat ure. I p refer t he later Mid d le Ag es (p ar t icular ly c.130 0 onw ard s), and enjo y t he t opics of t he hist or y of t he Eng lish lang uag e, t he influence of t he m ed ieval church, and t he w or ks of Geoffrey Chaucer. My Master 's d isser tat ion will invest ig ate t he m anuscr ip t s of t he Pr ioress's Tale following Chaucer 's deat h. Em ail: 833638@sw ansea.ac.uk
Har r y Cochrane, Hist or y Master 's St udent , Chief Ar t Ed it or I ar r ived at Sw ansea Univer sit y in 20 14 from Yeovil in Sout h Som er set via Chilt on Cantelo School. My year s of st ud y at Sw ansea have centred lar g ely on t he p olit ical and m ilitar y hist or ies of t he r ise and fall of t he Br it ish, French and Russian em pires along side m ore m oder n t opics such as t he Cold War, Yug oslav War s, and p ost -w ar Wales. At under g rad uate level, I com pleted m y d isser tat ion on Br it ish naval p r ize law in t he Nap oleonic Era, and received a full scholar ship for m y Master ?s deg ree. My Master 's t hesis d iscusses t he role of scapeg oat s wit hin Br it ish nat ional ident it y d ur ing t he Seven Year s' War. Em ail: 827139@sw ansea.ac.uk
Lauren Kent , Third Year Hist or y St udent , Prod uct ion Ed it or I am so hap py t o b e t he p rod uct ion ed it or for Gor ffennol. I really enjo y p rom ot ing t he jour nal on social m ed ia. It allow s people t o read ab out hist or y so easily, lear n, and b e inspired by our w r iter s, on t he b log and wit hin t he jour nal. It ?s am azing how we can translate t hat t o ot her s ? people interested in hist or y and t he creat ive ind ustr y. This exper ience is so valuab le t o m e, not only d o I enjo y it , b ut I also hope it will b e g ood exper ience t o p ur sue a fut ure career in p ub lishing . Fur t her m ore, it ?s g reat t o b e a p ar t of such an inspir ing , intellig ent and p assionate team . Em ail: 864 283@sw ansea.ac.uk
Ad am Flet cher, Third Year Ancient and Med ieval St ud ies St udent , Head of Com m unicat ions W hilst read ing for a BA in Ancient and Med ieval Hist or y, I have had t he op p or t unit y t o st ud y a d iver se rang e of t opics, from ancient ar t and architect ure t o Ang lo-Nor m an w ar fare; all of w hich I have found t o b e b ot h eng ag ing and intellect ually st im ulat ing . The central focus for m uch of m y research has concer ned t he hist or y of Eng land and France in t he Hig h Mid d le Ag es (c.10 0 0 -c.130 0 ). In p ar t icular, I am fascinated by t he p olit ical sit uat ion in Europe in t he ag e of t he so-called ?Ang evin Em pire?. As such, for m y d isser tat ion, I am in t he p rocess of cond uct ing a p rosop og rap hical st ud y int o m em b er s of t he Ang lo-Nor m an ar ist ocracy w ho went t o t he d uchy of Aq uitaine d ur ing t he reig ns of Henr y II and Richard I. I hope t o cont inue t o p ur sue new and excit ing t opics next year by d oing an MA in Med ieval St ud ies. Em ail: 880 712@sw ansea.ac.uk
Em m a And rew s, Hist or y Master 's St udent , Com m unicat ions Officer My research interest s are p r im ar ily concer ned wit h t he social and g ender hist or y of Moder n Br itain. I p ar t icular ly enjo y looking at Wales and cond uct ing local st ud ies wit h a wider context . For m y under g rad uate d isser tat ion I analysed t he relat ionship b et ween g ender and suicide and attem p ted suicide in Sw ansea b et ween 1875-190 5. I am cur rent ly under g oing research for m y MA t hesis w hich concer ns juvenile delinq uency and yout h cult ure in 1960 s Wales. Em ail: 822239@sw ansea.ac.uk
Geor g ia Yates, Hist or y Master 's St udent , Com m unicat ions Officer My research interest s are p r im ar ily concer ned wit h t he social hist or y of m oder n m ed icine. I also enjo y st ud ying m ilitar y hist or y, wit h a specific focus on t he relat ionship b et ween science and w ar fare. For m y under g rad uate d isser tat ion, I analysed t he role of anim als in t he Br it ish weap onisat ion of ant hrax d ur ing t he Second Wor ld War. I w ould like t o cont inue researching t he ut ilisat ion of anim al b od ies in m ilitar y science. Em ail: 825829@sw ansea.ac.uk
Olivia Rog er s, Second Year Hist or y and Polit ics St udent , Com m unicat ions Officer I am really excited t o b ecom e p ar t of t he Gor ffennol team t his year, and I look for w ard t o b eing ab le t o help create t he jour nal. Ever since I w as young I have had a keen interest in hist or y, especially in t he m onarchies of Europe d ur ing t he nineteent h and t went iet h cent ur ies. Since ar r iving at Sw ansea in 20 16 I have centred m y st ud ies around t went iet h cent ur y hist or y, m ore p recisely 194 5- Post War Reconstr uct ion and t he re-p atr iat ion of t he J ewish com m unit y, and t he Cold War. In t he near fut ure I hope t o p ur sue a career in eit her p ub lishing or t he Civil Ser vice. Em ail: 914724 @sw ansea.ac.uk
J am es Davies, Third Year Hist or y St udent , Blog Ed it or I am st ud ying a hist or y deg ree. The research I am interested in cover s m ore of m oder n hist or y. p red om inant ly from 150 0 onw ard . My d isser tat ion cover s t he or ig ins of t he Am er ican revolut ion. For fut ure p roject s I hope t o under take som et hing wit hin jour nalism . Em ail: 871754 @sw ansea.ac.uk
Fay Brayb rooke, Med ieval St ud ies Master 's St udent , Blog Ed it or I fir st cam e t o Sw ansea in 20 14 , w hen I star ted a BA in Hist or y, g rad uat ing wit h a fir st class deg ree, I am now following on from t his by st ud ying for an MA in Med ieval St ud ies. My interest s are m ainly founded in t he m ed ieval church and t he cult of saint s in p ar t icular. Em ail: 826649@sw ansea.ac.uk
Cait lin Naisb itt , Third Year Hist or y St udent , Ar t Ed it or My research interest s include t he late ear ly m oder n per iod (specifically 1750 -180 0 ) and t he hist or y of m ed icine. I am cur rent ly under taking m y d isser tat ion w hich focuses on t he role of t he Enlig htenm ent and t he r het or ic of sensib ilit y in chang ing Br it ish att it udes t ow ard s slaver y and em pire b et ween 1770 -1830 . After com plet ing t he t hird year of m y hist or y deg ree I hope t o ret ur n t o t he Univer sit y t o p ur sue m y Master 's deg ree in hist or y. Em ail: 873838@sw ansea.ac.uk
Henr y Need ham , Fir st Year Hist or y St udent , Blog Ed it or I am a fir st year Hist or y st udent from Bir m ing ham . My favoured areas of research and st ud y are Twent iet h Cent ur y p olit ics, Moder n Br it ish hist or y and t he t im e of t he French Revolut ion. I cam e t o Sw ansea in Sep tem b er 20 17 straig ht from A-Levels. I am delig hted t o b e a m em b er of t he Gor ffennol jour nal team as I feel t his is a help ful step ping st one in m y hist or ical career. Em ail: 950 0 49@sw ansea.ac.uk
Marcelo Reka, Fir st Year Hist or y and Polit ics St udent , PR Officer I am a fir st Year Hist or y and Polit ics st udent wit h a keen interest in t he deb ates of m oder n p olit ics. I am hoping t o g o int o t he field of jour nalism after univer sit y, and have enjo yed ed it ing for Gor ffennol t his year. Em ail: 960 197@sw ansea.ac.uk
Stanley Far rell-Sep ulved a, Third Year Ancient and Med ieval St ud ies St udent , Blog Ed it or
I am cur rent ly st ud ying BA Ancient and Med ieval hist or y and am hoping t o cont inue m y st ud ies in Sw ansea wit h an MA in ancient hist or y and classical cult ure. My research interest s and final year d isser tat ion focus on econom ic and social relat ions b et ween Europe and Asia d ur ing t he fir st cent ur y AD. I have enjo yed w or king on Gor ffennol, lear ning ab out and from t he ideas of m y peer s in t heir ow n ind ivid ual research. Em ail: 87550 2@sw ansea.ac.uk
Nicola McAnd rew, Second Year Eng lish Literat ure and Hist or y St udent , Ar t Ed it or My desire t o b e a p ar t of t he ed it ing team for Gor ffennol stem s from a p rofound academ ic ap p reciat ion for hist or y in g eneral, from m ed ieval t o m oder n. My st ud ies rang e from t he Tud or s t o m oder n European hist or y, alt houg h I am p ar t icular ly interested in m oder n Br it ish and m ilitar y hist or y. As well as m y hist or y st ud ies, I also st ud y Eng lish Literat ure, wit h hopes t o p ur sue a career in ed it ing . Being an ed it or for t he jour nal will b e an invaluab le exper ience, as t he content is so eng ag ing for all aud iences. It is a b r illiant w ay t o com m unicate easy under stand ing , and p rom otes hist or ical lear ning , w hich I t hink is ab solutely invaluab le. Em ail: 86890 5@sw ansea.ac.uk
Tom Davies, Third Year Hist or y St udent , PR Officer I am cur rent ly a t hird year hist or y st udent specialising m y d isser tat ion in t he Br it ish m ed ia?s influence and p or trayal of t he Sp anish Civil War. I enjo y all aspect s of hist or y b ut m ainly focus m y st ud y on m oder n and p olit ical hist or y. After g rad uat ing I am cont inuing at Sw ansea t o d o a p ost g rad uate MA in Inter nat ional Jour nalism . Em ail: 821964 @sw ansea.ac.uk
From t he Chief Ed it or Welcom e t o t he sixt h issue of Gor ffennol, t he st udent -led jour nal of t he Hist or y Dep ar t m ent at Sw ansea Univer sit y! Last year ?s issue has had over one t housand read s, and w as read in six cont inent s. It w as hug e success, and we?re hoping t o have car r ied t hat stand ard t hroug h for issue six. Gor ffennol?s excit ing new look and or g anisat ion last year resulted in t he Sup p or t ing Lect urer and Chief Ed it or b eing g iven em plo yab ilit y aw ard s by t he Sw ansea Em plo yab ilit y Academ y, and t he jour nal even g ot a m ent ion in t he sum m er g rad uat ion cerem ony speech! In t his year ?s issue you will find p ost g rad uate ar t icles, dep ar t m ent new s, a g uest ar t icle from The Hist or ical Associat ion, and fir st -class under g rad uate w or k. We are p ar t icular ly p roud of t he achievem ent s of our under g rad uates, from t hose w hose w or k has b een p ub lished in t he jour nal, t o t hose w ho have p ar t icip ated on t he ed it or ial team . Eng ag ing wit h t he dep ar t m ent in t hese w ays g ives st udent s incred ib le em plo yab ilit y b enefit s, and any cur rent st udent s t hat are interested in w or king on t he jour nal can look out for a recr uit m ent em ail t hat will g o out d ur ing t he fir st ter m of t he next academ ic year. The t opics covered in t his year ?s jour nal rang e from Viking raider s t o Nazi m ed ical hyg iene, includ ing m ed ieval car t og rap hy, refor m at ions, revolut ions, and t he inter sect ion of class and Br it ish p olit ics. As m ent ioned ab ove, we are pleased t o feat ure an ar t icle from John Ashley of The Hist or ical Associat ion, p rom ot ing links b et ween t he Univer sit y and it s wider com m unit y. Tw o of our under g rad uate ar t icles are w r itten by st udent s st ud ying t hroug h t he Dep ar t m ent of Ad ult Cont inuing Ed ucat ion (DACE): we are p roud t o show case w or k p rod uced t hroug h a dep ar t m ent t hat p rom otes t he widening of access t o hig her ed ucat ion. We w ould like t o t hank our aut hor s for t heir excellent ly w r itten ar t icles and essays, and t he ed it or ial team for t heir hard w or k in creat ing t his issue - especially in t hat t his year, we have b een ab le t o p r int p hysical copies. It is incred ib le t o b e ab le t o p resent t he d iver se and interest ing research hap pening at Sw ansea Univer sit y?s Hist or y dep ar t m ent via b ot h an online plat for m and a tang ib le p rod uct . Our b log , found at g or ffennolsw an.w ord p ress.com / b log , fur t her show cases research and st udent eng ag em ent wit hin t he dep ar t m ent . Finally, I w ould like t o t hank Dr Char lie Rozier, w ho p rovides end less sup p or t and ent husiasm for t his p ub licat ion. We hope t hat you enjo y issue six of Gor ffennol. Am y Meg son, Chief Ed it or, 20 17-8
CONTENTS Does Social Class St ill Matter in Br it ish Polit ics? by Dr Sam Blaxland
The Med ieval Car t og rap her 's View of t he Wor ld Accord ing t o t he Eb st or f Map, by Kat hr yn Lod g e
A rep or t on Greg ynog , st udent -staff colloq uium , 19 t o 21 Feb r uar y 20 18, by Dan Ned in
St udent Involvem ent in The Hist or ical Associat ion, by John Ashley
Dep ar t m ent New s from Professor David Tur ner
The Gardens of t he Eng lish Elite: Were t he Eng lish Ruling Elite Francop hilic in t he Eig hteent h Cent ur y? by Luke Rees
W hy Were Viking Raid s So Successful?, by Josep h Thom as
p. 4 4
An assessm ent on w het her t he Vichy Reg im e achieved t he aim s of t he Nat ional Revolut ion, by St uar t Booker
To w hat extent d id Nazi racial hyg iene violate t he nor m s and values of scient ific m ed icine?, by Em ily Ad am s
How t he Act s of Union and t he Refor m at ion Enab led Tud or Monarchs t o Re-Shape Wales, by Keit h Rob er t s
The Chang ing For t unes of Wom en in Welsh Societ y Dur ing t he Twent iet h Cent ur y, by J anet Davies
Does Social Class Still Matter in British Politics? By Dr Sam Blaxland
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Sam Blaxland has been a Post-doctoral Fellow in the History Department since November 2016. He is writing the history of the University in light of its centenary in 2020. He studied for a PhD in Swansea between 2013 and 2016 and before that lived, worked, or studied in Cardiff, Oxford and L ondon. I t was Sam who created the name for the journal Gorffennol.
Class is still enormously important in British political and social life. I happen to believe that this ought not to be the case, because it can too often be stifling and constricting - but it is important to people nonetheless. Witness, for example, a recent episode of BBC Wales? T he Hour (on which yours truly featured very briefly) broadcast from L lanelli, where the topic of ?class and social mobility?roused a great deal of passion, even from people who spent the hour shouting that it ?doesn?t matter? to them even though it clearly did.1 As I suspected might happen from the moment I was asked to appear on the programme, no one really defined what class is, or how certain people fall into particular brackets. As a concept, class is a more complex and nuanced one now that it once was, but it still has a potent and powerful effect on the way people think of themselves, and think of politics. T his all used to be relatively simple. I n the mid-twentieth century, Britain had a relatively rigid and definable class structure. Many people knew they were working-class because they belonged to what was effectively an industrial proletariat, working as labourers in mines or in other places like factories. Although it was fading, there was still the remnants of the old landed upper classes dotted across the country.2 I n the middle sat an often-definable middle-class made up of
professionals and managers. Of course, it wasn?t completely straightforward: the wonderful George Orwell?s description of himself as lower-upper-middle-class typified that.3 I t was a comment that many fellow Brits would have related to and would have understood what he meant by writing it. Nevertheless, when the T wo Ronnies with the help of John Cleese - made their famous 1966 Frost Report sketch about class it resonated because people recognised the satirical message that was being conveyed. For those who have not seen it: Cleese, an exceptionally tall man, stands on the left of the screen dressed impeccably. He informs us that he is upper-class. He looks down on Ronnie Barker, who is in the centre of the screen, dressed smartly, but differently, and who informs us that he is middle-class. On the right, dressed in the trademark accoutrement of the British worker of the time ? the flat cloth cap ? is the very short Ronnie Corbett, who tells us he is ?working-class? and therefore ?knows his place? and looks up to the other two, particularly Cleese?s upper-class character. T he short but clever sketch revolves around the three characters either looking up or down (or both ways) at each other, symbolising the latent and inbuilt hierarchy that they were part of.
I came to think more about these ideas, and about social class, when I was writing a political history for my PhD. I happen to be one of those people who didn?t really consider the matter, in a personal sense, when I was growing up. I ?m Welsh, but not from one of the former industrial working-class-culture-orientated parts of Wales. I was the child of a middle-ranking police officer and teacher, so whilst we were comfortable we weren?t very wealthy and neither did we exhibit many of the features that mark someone out as resolutely middle-class like skiing holidays, trips to the theatre, or to fancy restaurants ? all of which was compounded by living rurally. No one drank wine with dinner at home. But I later realised, from an academic perspective, that class was an essential concept for the work I was doing even if it hadn?t featured prominently in my own world. I learnt that many academics considered class-based voting habits to be at the core of historic electoral behaviour in Britain, and particularly in Wales. I t was perhaps summed up best by the academic Peter Pulzer, who wrote in 1967 that once class was eliminated as an explanation for why people voted for political parties, all else was merely ?embellishment and detail?.4 I n other words, nothing else really mattered; class was the vital determinant. I liked Pulzer?s phrase so much that it formed part of the title of a paper I was very lucky to give at Harvard University in the sweltering Massachusetts heat of the summer of 2016.
T he T wo Ronnies and John Cleese perform 'T he Class Sketch', The Frost Report, 7 April 1966, copyright of BBC Four
W hat I tried to do in that paper was to stand up for Pulzer?s assertion, which was well and truly side-lined as a theory almost as soon as he had written it. I n the early 1970s, along came a group of political scientists and some historians, who argued that class mattered far less than it once had. Even some of the titles of these works like the slightly knotty Decade of Dealignment hinted at the general argument, which suggested that because of de-industrialisation, the decline of the manual working classes, and the rise of new and varied economic sectors, old class structures were breaking down or blurring, particularly throughout the 1970s.5 T herefore, argued writers like Crewe and Sarlvik, Denver, Joyce and even the authors of the Nuffield Studies in the 1970s, the two general elections of 1974 were the last in which class played any real and significant role in the outcome and the parties?vote share.6 Aspects of my research led to different conclusions, however. I n focusing on why people in Wales voted for the Conservative Party, I discovered that since the Second World War, including since the 1970s, the concept of class continued to matter enormously. I discovered this partly through conducting over sixty oral history interviews as part of the research. W hilst people rarely spoke starkly in terms of class, they regularly hinted at it. ?Conservative supporters were ?posh? ladies?; ?Conservatism was about aspiration and betterment?; ?I could never go into a Conservative Club because it would have felt like a betrayal of my roots?and so on and so forth. I n Wales, Conservatism remained about ?moving up a step?, having good contacts, being a homeowner, belonging to particular clubs, or conforming to certain gender roles. T here were also the even subtler things like speech patterns, accents and dress codes. Welsh Conservatives like a pair of pink trousers or a tweed jackets, for example; much more so than their left-wing counterparts. T hese are very small but ? I think ? significant indicators of powerful and long-lasting class structures.
I think it is the role of a historian to highlight that these things matter: because they tend to matter to the people who we study. T his is where political science or sociological approaches can sometimes, although certainly not always,7 come unstuck, because they fail to fully take into account how people identify with such things, and how they self-conceptualise something like their own class. I concluded that, contrary to popular thinking on the matter, people in Britain and in Wales still think of themselves, and their political voting habits, in a template that owes a great deal to their status. Class-based assumptions are still hardwired into our way of thinking, even if it has become less straightforward since the 1970s. How we think of ourselves can be just as significant ? and can be very different from ? the categories we might fall into based on some kind of model or test ? especially those based on income.
T his idea of self-perception here is key. Can a doctor, for example, who owns a sports car, living in a detached house, but who grew up in poor household in a depressed de-industrialised area legitimately describe herself as working-class? Some do; and why not? Perhaps her upbringing and background so influenced how she sees life, made choices and decisions, and how she understands herself that this is still a reasonable label to apply. I t could also be that there is still, for some people, a stigma and an embarrassment around middle-class attributes. I was once told anecdotally by a significant L abour Party figure that it always made him think ? and it always caused a certain twinge - when he drank his favourite L anguedoc Syrah-Grenache, and not his pint of Brains beer. We should also be wary of conflating wealth with the attributes of social class. Unlike my parents, I certainly drink wine with dinner, but I ?m not as wealthy as they are or were at a similar age, nor do I own my own house (or many other things, come to think of it). W hat does that make me, class wise?
A remnant of Pembrokeshire's industrial past, Porthgain Harbour, photograph taken by the Geograph Britain and I reland Project, Wikimedia Commons
I n many ways, this brief article has opened up more questions than it has answered. I do hope, however, that it has emphasised that the class-based aspect of British political life is still present and salient. I found that it mattered particularly in Wales, where people think particularly about their class. I n my analysis, the performance of the Conservative Party told me something about the middle-classes in which the party?s vote was rooted. Firstly, this middle-class is a smaller grouping than in other parts of the UK, including swathes of England, but it is also a much more substantial and larger group than a great deal of scholarship on Wales ? that has tended to focus on coal miners and the working classes - would suggest. I hope my PhD wasn?t just an original study on the neglected Tory Party, but a window onto the understudied middle-classes too.
An unrelated P.S before I sign off, if I may be so indulgent? W hen I first arrived in Swansea to begin my PhD studies, there was talk about a student run journal. I was in a meeting with my supervisor when someone else popped their head around the corner to canvass his opinion on the matter. He liked it, so they discussed what it should be called. W hat about a Welsh name? ?Gorffennol? is Welsh for ?past? I chipped in, dredging that from the part of my brain that stores my basic and rusty Welsh. I can therefore take some minor credit for this journal?s name, and I ?m only sorry that it?s taken me so long to write something for it. I t?s a great endeavour, and I wish it all the luck in the future.
REFERENCES 1. http:/ / www.bbc.co.uk/ programmes/ b09qlnx4 2. David Cannadine, The Decline and Fall of the British Aristocracy ([ 1990] L ondon: Papermac, 1996), pp. 638-639 3. George Orwell, The Road to W igan Pier ([ 1937] Middlesex: Victor Gollanncz, 1975), p. 106. 4. Peter Kellner, ?Does Class Still Divide British Politics?, Prospect Magazine, 22 May 2014. 5. See Bo Sarlvik and I vor Crewe, Decade of Dealignment: The Conservative victory of 1979 and electoral trends in the 1970s (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983). 6. David Denver, Elections and Voters in Britain (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007); Patrick Joyce, ?I ntroduction?, in his Class (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995), p. 3; Also see, for example, David Butler and Dennis Kavanagh, The British General Election of February 1974 (L ondon: Macmillan, 1974), p. 270. 7. T im Bale, who is a political scientist, adopted a very praiseworthy approach in his recent history of the Conservative Party. See T im Bale, The Conservatives Since 1945: The Drivers of Party Change ([ 2012] Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016).
T he Medieval Car togr apher 's View of the Wor ld Accor ding to the Ebstor f Map. By Kathryn L odge
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Kathryn L odge is an MA Medieval Studies student. After graduating in 2017 with a first class degree in History, Kathryn continued her studies at Swansea University by undertaking an MA in Medieval Studies. Her research interests focus on medieval Britain from the 13th Century onwards, with her dissertation focusing on the socio-economic impact of the Black Death.
Considered an extraordinary example of a medieval mappamundi, the Ebstorf map contains a combination of traditional and unique features expected of a world map. Religion was a central characteristic, evident through the imagery of Christ, and the Ebstorf map was tailored towards religious education, particularly of the illiterate. A stimulating quality of the map regards its philosophical approach towards time and space. W hile often related back to religion, this, along with the use of scientifically orientated sources, suggests an almost futuristic approach in the foundations of the Ebstorf map. Additionally, geographical accuracy, historical imagery and political components are all visible on closer inspection of the Ebstorf map. T his essay will endeavour to explore the provenance, key characteristics and the influential sources used to create the Ebstorf map (E.M.). Discovered in a convent near Ebstorf, Germany in 1830, and understandably named the Ebstorf map, it is commonly attributed to the late thirteenth century.1 Measuring 3.58 by 3.56 metres, the E.M. was the largest known medieval mappamundi prior to its destruction in the 1945 Hanover bombings.2 Fortunately, photographic preservation allowed a replica of the T -O map to be placed in the Ebstorf convent.3 During its lifetime, the well-travelled, slightly damaged E.M.
visited Kรถnigliches Kupferstichkabinett, Berlin in 1888 as well as the Hauptstaatsarchiv at Hanover to undergo the beginning of its preservation journey.4 One continuous dispute surrounding the E.M. concerns its authorship, which remains uncertain despite vast quantities of scholarly interest surrounding the topic. Commonly, Gervase of T ilbury (G.T.) is attributed with the creation of the E.M.5 Outstanding local knowledge of Ebstorf, including the identification of burial sites of local martyrs not only suggests the map was created in Ebstorf but that the author knew the area intimately.6 T hus the affiliation with G.T., who inhabited the area for a significant period of time and would have been capable of providing such details.7 Additionally, G.T. held the intellectual capacity to produce the E.M., having lived at the court of Henry I I , been educated in law at the University of Bologna and in 1207, worked in the court of Provence.8 Furthermore, the final source used in the creation of the E.M. is recorded as the Otia I mperalia, written in 1214 by G.T., thus further supporting the notion of G.T. as the map's creator.9 T his work includes a description of the entire world as well as reference to a more complete world map, possibly the E.M.10 W hile no map exists within the Otia I mperalia it is possible a larger map supplemented it, maps too large to be placed
within books were often presented alongside it, further supporting the notion G.T. held the skillset required for the creation of the E. M.11 However this is not unanimously agreed upon: J. Wilke in particular argues that G.T. and the E.M. had no connection, therefore believing the author of the mappamundi remains unidentified.12 Often considered a primary focus of medieval mappamundi, religious instruction dominates the E.M.13 Teachings extracted from the Vulgate Bible provide divine imagery, allowing the map to act as the location for the attestation of both human and spiritual experiences, as noted by A. Hiatt.14 Arguably the E.M.?s most distinctive feature, Christ?s embrace of the world, appears frequently among mappamundi, however the ?superimposed? nature of Christ on the E.M. is unique.15 K. Hilis disputed this interpretation, preferring to view the earth as ?superimposed? on Christ, due to the Eucharistic imagery of Christ wearing the world as a cloak.16 Regardless, the projection of Christ embracing the world is symbolically significant, emphasising his omnipotent, omniscient state. Furthermore, this imagery reaffirms the connection between earth and the divine, eluding to God as creator of the world and orchestrator of all events.17 Additional to the imagery, text surrounding the image of Christ further confirms the religious purpose of the E.M.18 T he words ?Terram palmo concludit? (he holds the world in the palm of his hand) surround Christ's left hand, while similar text borders his other extremities.19 Powerful in meaning, this phrase supports the notion that the salvation of mankind rests in God?s hands, accentuating the religious connotations affixed to the E.M. Although it is the imagery of Christ embracing the world that remains most powerful, allowing all who viewed the map to understand its meaning: contained within Christ?s body, the Earth is irreversibly connected to the crucifixion and thus preserved through a history of salvation.20 Further accentuating its spiritual orientation, the E.M. centres on Jerusalem and its religious
significance. A feature of mappamundis not developed until the thirteenth century, the emphasis placed on Jerusalem as the centre of the world is visible in the E.M. as well as the Herford and Psalter maps.21 Both the Vulgate Bible and the Book of Ezekiel advocate this stating Jerusalem should be placed in the centre of the world due to its spiritual connections.22 I ntensifying links with religious instruction is the portrayal of Jerusalem and the resurrection of Christ within a gold frame, an additional feature unique to the E.M.23 Alone, this signifies the portrayal of the salvation of men, however, on closer examination the flattened nature of the walls of Jerusalem visually creates a wheel.24 T his indicates the world pivoted around Christ and Jerusalem, sending a poignant message regarding the maintenance of the Earth and the centrality of God, reinforcing the E.M.?s religious objective.25 Jerusalem is not the only religiously significant location found within the E.M. L ike all Christian mappamundis, the E.M. is orientated towards the east in accordance with T he Vulgate Bible and other religious doctrine, which stated the Garden of Eden and the creation of humanity were situated in the east.26 Sites from both the Old and New Testament can be found throughout the E.M., most notably the Tower of Babel and Bethlehem.27 Contrastingly, the northeast of the map was retained for Gog and Magog, creatures freed during the antichrist.28 Religious symbols on the E.M. demonstrate its meticulous composition designed to articulate spiritual history in addition to physical facts.29 Further religious interpretations supported by the Vulgate Bible arise from the map's formation, its roundness can be interpreted as a representation of the communion wafer and thus transubstantiation.30 Viewed in a literal sense as suggested by transubstantiation, the E.M. undertakes an even more prominent, meaningful role in religious instruction.31 Additionally, the depiction of the crucifixion within the map's T -O arrangement emphasises the cartographer's
Appendix A, T he Ebstorf Map, as printed in G. Pischke, "T he Ebstorf Map: tradition and contents of a medieval picture of the world" in History of Geo- and Space Sciences, 5.2 (2014), pp.155-161, p. 156.
religious inclinations.32 Evident from the words ?ne plus ultra? at the Pillars of Hercules, the E.M. held warnings against sailing across the western sea. Such a journey was considered an abandonment of Christ, further indicating the maps spiritual purpose.33 Extended use of T he Vulgate Bible and religious doctrine expand on the E.M.?s origins by supplying evidence endorsing the E.M.?s intended use for religious edification. T he prominence of religious characteristics within the E.M., not all of which are mentioned, underline the map's spiritual objective. Extending the map's religious characteristics, it is possible to view the E.M. in regard to the medieval perception of time and space with a philosophical and potentially scientific connotation.34 G. Pischke identified peripheral text that discussed the creation of the world and the use of the universe as an outline for its macrostructure, reflecting the work of I sidore of Seville?s Derenum natura.35 Seemingly insignificant, the use of Seville?s work indicates attempts at scientific reasoning, a crucial influence to acknowledge. A. Scafi noted medieval depictions of time and space differ from the modern view, which can potentially create difficulties, therefore acknowledging medieval philosophical theories surrounding time and space is vital when examining such a document.36 Saint Augustine described paradise as a physical space unreachable by humans, suggesting earthly paradise constituted as both the time of the original sin and the location in which the Garden of Eden is found.37 Simplified, it was thought history did not run a linear course but was determined by God, therefore allowing the intertwining of time and space.38 Justified spiritually, the placement of the Garden of Eden on the E.M. and the original sin were viewed as the catalyst for historical processes intended to earn forgiveness for the original sin.39 T herefore a modern mind may view this as an attempt at scientific or philosophical reasoning, the medieval person saw only religious explanations, promoting the E.M.?s intended religious objective.
Appendix B, the centre of the Ebstorf Map, the 'Heavenly Jerusalem' (rotated 90 degrees), as printed in G. Pischke, "T he Ebstorf Map: tradition and contents of a medieval pitcure of the world"(2014), pp.155-161, p. 157
Despite a primarily religious background, the E.M. simultaneously exhibits geographical and historical aspects of the world. Using the east-west orientation, the E.M. presents a history of the world according to Christian events.40 E. Edson reinforced this, stating maps were not purely religious and geographical details within the E.M. boasted a certain likeness to real-world perceptions.41 Ptolemy?s Geographia expressed significant influence on the geography of the E.M., aiding in the depiction of a spherical object on a flat surface, as well as providing details regarding celestial observations.42 Similarly, Macrobius? Commentary on the Dream of Scipio inspired the division of the world into zones, a practical feature for travellers prior to their departure, as the inscription ?of no small use to those travellers? suggests.43 Application of knowledge found within Pliny?s Natural History is evident due to the placement of Sri L anka and the I sland of Taprobana on the E.M.44 Similarly, both the geographical chapter within Paulus
Orosius? Seven Books of History Against the Pagans and the geographical books of I sidore of Seville?s Etymologies have contributed to the physical accuracy of the E.M., creating a document that engages with physical, historical and religious aspects of the world.45 An abundance of geographically orientated sources used within the E.M. demonstrate understanding of the significance of map's accuracy, regardless of it being overshadowed by religion. Unwittingly, this reveals the map's political agenda, exposed through the existence of empires, the E.M. displays an allegiance with the Guelf dynasty through heraldic symbols.46 However, the map's presumed role in religious instruction invalidates its potential use as a tool for political propaganda.47
To conclude, the characteristics and origin of the E.M. clearly demonstrate its purpose in religious edification. Advocating this is the connection between Christ and the world and the centrality of Jerusalem to Christianity, achieved through imagery.48 However the nature of the E.M. implies it has some geographical uses, as argued by E. Edson, yet this pales into insignificance when compared to the map's spiritual purposes. Exploration into the E.M. uncovered its political and historical characteristics, neither of which can be considered sole purpose of the E.M.49 A number of sources were used in the creation of the E.M.; I sidore of Seville?s work featured heavily in philosophical and geographical aspects of the E.M., while references to the Vulgate Bible can be seen continuously in the maps religious context.50 I dentifying these sources is vital in comprehending the context of the map and motives behind characteristics. Ultimately, the E.M. is a unique and astonishing medieval mappamundi and one that will continually present opportunities for study.
Ebstorf Map shows visible damage as a result of mice, meanwhile a section of the upper right has been cut out and removed from the map.
1. G. Pischke, ?T he Ebstorf Map: tradition and contents of a medieval picture of the world?, History of Geo- and Space Sciences, 5.2 (2014), p. 155; K. Hilis, ?T he power of disembodied imagination: perspective?s role in cartography?, Cartographica, 31.3 (1994), p. 3. 2. Pischke, p. 155. 3. I bid., pp. 154-156; J. R. Wigelsworth, Science and Technology in Medieval European L ife (Connecticut: Greenwood Publishing Group, 2006), pp. 75-77. Medieval world maps are often referred to as T -O maps due to their circular shape (O) and the division of the continents within them (T ). 4. I bid., p. 155. T he L ower left portion of the
5. J. B. Friedman, Kristen Mossler Figg, and Gregory G. Guzman. T rade, T ravel, and Exploration in the Middle Ages: An Encyclopedia (New York: Garland Pub., 2000), pp. 158-162. 6. E. Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492: T he Persistence of T radition and T ransformation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007), p. 29. 7. P. D. A. Harvey, Medieval Maps (L ondon: British L ibrary, 1991), pp. 24-26. 8. Wolf, A., ?T he Ebstorf Mappamundi and Gervase of T ilbury: T he Controversy Revisited?, I mago Mundi, 64.1 (2012), p. 3. 9. S. E. Banks, and J. W. Binns, Otia I mperialia:
Recreation for an Emperor / Gervase of T ilbury (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), pp. 225-275. Otia I mperalia roughly translates to I mperial L eisure.
View: Contemplating the Mappamundi?, p. 507.
10. I bid. 11. I bid.; Friedman, pp. 168-152.
26. Pischke, p. 156; Edson, ?T he Medieval World View: Contemplating the Mappamundi?, p. 507; Knox, pp. 950-980.
12. Wolf, p. 5.
27. Pischke, p. 157.
13. E. Edson, ?T he Medieval World View: Contemplating the Mappamundi?, History Compass, 8.6 (2010), p. 507.
28. Edson, ?T he Medieval World Contemplating the Mappamundi?, p. 505.
14. A. Hiatt, ?Maps of empires past?, Post-Empire I maginaries: Anglophone L iterature, History, and the Demise of Empires ed. B. Buchenau and V. Richter (Buckinghamshire: Brill, 2015), p. 18. 15. Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492, pp. 21-22.
24. Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492, p. 31. 25. I bid.
29. I bid., p. 507. 30.Hilis, pp. 1-5; Knox, pp. 974-976. 31. N. Evernden, T he Social Creation of Nature (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1992), pp. 44-45. 32. Wigelsworth, pp. 75-77.
16. Hilis, p. 1-5. Hilis argues this as visually it seems Christs hands appear from incisions in the map itself, as if Christ were wearing the map as clothing, following Eucharitic teachings.
33. Hilis, pp. 1-4.
17. I bid., pp. 1-3.
36. A. Scafi, Mapping Paradise : A History of Heaven on Earth (L ondon: British L ibrary, 2006), p. 62.
18. I bid., p. 1-2. 19. Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492, p. 22. I n addition to this text, at Christ?s right hand the words ?dextera domini feci? (the right hand of the lord does mighty work) can be found. Similarly, at Christs feet are the words ?Usqu as finem fortiter, suavuter disponens omnia? (wisdom which you have produced from the mouth of the highest reaches powerfully from one end of the earth to the other, ordering all things well). 20. Hiatt, p. 13. 21. Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492, p. 20.
34. Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492, p. 31. 35. Pischke, p. 160.
37. I bid.; A. Symons, and E. B. Pusey. T he Confessions of Saint Augustine (L ondon: Walter Scott, 1903), p. 250, p. 471. 38. Scafi, p. 62. 39. I bid. 40. Hiatt, p. 14. 41. Edson, ?T he Medieval World View: Contemplating the Mappamundi?, p. 509. T he Ebstorf Map presents a traditional view of Asia, in line with other medieval mappamundi.
22. D. Block, T he Book of Ezekiel, Chapters 1-24 (Michigan: W m. B. Eerdmans Publishing, 1997), pp. 1-100; Knox, Ronald Arbuthnott, T he Holy Bible / a T ranslation from the L atin Vulgate in the L ight of the Hebrew and Greek Originals (L ondon: Burns & Oates, 1959), pp. 950-980.
42. I bid., p. 511; J. L . Berggren, Alexander Jones, and Ptolemy, Ptolemy's Geography : An Annotated T ranslation of the T heoretical Chapters (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2000), pp. 50-150.
23. Pischke, p. 156; Edson, ?T he Medieval World
43. Ambrosius Aurelius T heodosius Macrobius and William Harris Stahl, Commentary on the
Dream of Scipio / T ranslated with an I ntroduction and Notes by William Harris Stahl (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952), pp. 50-75; Edson, ?T he Medieval World View: Contemplating the Mappamundi?, p. 511; Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492, p. 31. W hile too large to accompany travellers, the Ebstorf Map was useful in outlining the route of their journey. 44. J. Bostock and Henry T. Riley, T he Natural History of Pliny (L ondon: H. G. Bohn, 1855), pp. 1-150. 45. Paulus Orosius and Andrew T. Fear, Orosius Seven Books of History against the Pagans / T ranslated with I ntroduction and Notes by A.T. Fear. (L iverpool: L iverpool University Press, 2010), pp. 1-175; S.A. Barney, T he Etymologies of I sidore of Seville (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), pp. 75-150; Edson, ?T he Medieval World View: Contemplating the Mappamundi?, p. 511. 46. Hiatt, p. 15. Allegiance is particularly poignant between the Ebstorf Map and the thirteenth century Emperor Otto I V of Braunshwei. 47. I bid. 48. Edson, T he World Map, 1300-1492, p. 31. 49. Edson, ?T he Medieval World Contemplating the Mappamundi?, p. 509.
50. Knox, pp. 974-976.; Barney, pp. 75-150.
A r epor t on Gr egynog, student-staff colloquium, 19 to 21 Febr uar y 2018. By Dan Nedin T his year, the annual medieval conference held at Gregynog surrounded the theme of ?Feeling Medieval?, focussing on the senses and emotions felt and experienced by the medieval people and how these aspects impacted their lives and how they related to memory. T he talks by both lecturers and students covered a wide range of topics from self-identification and exile, to literary and visual representations of what is meant by to ?be medieval?. T he following group discussions surrounding these talks by students from the five Welsh universities (Aberystwyth, Bangor, Cardiff, T rinity St David, and Swansea) brought together engaging and interesting ideas, which were fed back to the whole group when we came together at the close of the conference. As representatives of Swansea University, we can feel proud in knowing that out of the five groups, the students of Swansea participated not only in the group feedback and following discussion in this final session, but also played a huge part in the questions asked after the individual talks: we were key players in the discussions, which we can feel proud in being a part of.
Staff and students pictured outside Gregynog House, picture taken by T herron Welstead, PhD Student at University of Wales T rinity Saint David.
Student Testimonials T yler T hatcher, T hird Year History Student: "Personally I enjoyed the discussion side of things, particularly when it was about a paper that I found really interesting. However, I also liked the fact that papers often look at certain topics I knew nothing about before, or about a subject I never even considered the history of. I t is an all-round great experience, especially if you focus on medieval history in your studies. T he papers really teach you a lot, and in some cases can give you ideas for dissertations or even essays. You are also able to interact with students at differing levels from different universities which can be both interesting and helpful." Alexandra Nethell, MA Ancient History and Classical Culture Student: "I really enjoyed the presentations and that we are able to discuss the topics in seminar groups after they have been given. Gregynog Hall is also a beautiful place to stay, it made the experience a lot more fun. I would recommend it as it is a great way to expand your knowledge and thought analysis, because you're discussing different topics with other universities and seeing how other people think. Also, it?s just a good experience being there."
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Dan Nedin is an MA Medieval Studies student at Swansea University. His areas of interest include the First Crusade, Chivalry, and the Fabliaux comic texts of the T welfth Century. He has a background and interest in Ancient History from epics to comedies, leading to his present dissertation topic looking at, and comparing, the Fifth Century Comedies of Aristophanes with those of the T welfth Century French Fabliaux and the similarities within.
Student I nvolvement with T he H istor ical Association. By John Ashley ABOUT THE AUTHOR John Ashley completed the Advanced Diploma in L ocal History Research at Oxford University in 2005. He now teaches a variety of historical subjects at Swansea University, and has commenced research for a higher degree. He also works for an examination board, taking him on overseas assignments to Ethiopia among other places. He was recently appointed Walking Development Officer for Swansea Council. John is past Chair of the Swansea Branch of T he Historical Association, chair of the Friends of W hite Rock, Chair of the Friends of Swansea Slip Bridge, and Director and Events Organiser of the Roads T ransport History Association.
I n 2012 the Swansea Branch of T he Historical Association won a grant from the Heritage L ottery Fund?s Connected Communities scheme to develop a smartphone app for heritage digital trails. T he six Connected Communities projects in Swansea were coordinated by Kate Spiller of COAH, who also helped the W hite Rock project (as it became known) to bring student volunteers into the project. T he test site was the W hite Rock I ndustrial Heritage Park on the east bank of the Tawe opposite the Hafod-Morfa works. W hite Rock is the third oldest copper works in the L ower Swansea Valley. Opened in 1737, it finally ceased operations in the 1940s and was largely demolished in the early 1960s. Probably the most important surviving structure is the Smith Canal, bringing coal from L lansamlet to W hite Rock. Built in the 1790s it is the first cut and cover canal in the world. T his project morphed from development of a smartphone app to a volunteer team dedicated to researching and restoring the largely overgrown and inhospitable Park to a visible reminder of Swansea?s heritage and a public amenity. Computer Science students - Digital H umanities We sourced the first version of the Android app from Aberystwyth University, where an open source app had been developed. I t could be tailored by adding content (text, images, audio and video) triggered by GPS location services. As a visitor walks around a site appropriate information pops up. I further developed the app for W hite Rock (my background is computer science as well as history) but it was clear that it could be improved significantly, particularly in making addition of content a non-technical task. T his would eliminate the programmer middle-man between content provider and visitor.
I n October 2013 the Computer Science MEng programme invited bids from outside organisations to provide projects for teams of students. T he bidding process was competitive, with each organisation pitching to all the students. T wo teams chose the W hite Rock app. Both teams produced functioning apps which were presented at the Computer Science Fair at the end of the academic year. One team continued development of the Aberystwyth app, the other developed ab initio. We had always anticipated the problem of maintaining the apps after the students completed their degree, and the problem duly materialised. T he Aberystwyth development was still maintainable by the next year, but the ab initio app relied so heavily on some abstruse technical knowledge that it was regretfully shelved. Another student, this time on the MSc programme, completed a dissertation on the three apps. He considered usability and flexibility as a contribution to future designs. All three apps were proved in action and added greatly to the success of the W hite Rock project. Since then mobile technology has moved on. Niche apps like these are no longer necessarily the province of clever programmers. Several products are now available which provide a framework for subject matter experts to add content without much more skill than working a browser. I f you can wield a camera and a keyboard the process is quite simple. I mportantly, in the days of social media, these apps encourage feedback and comment from visitors. T he W hite Rock volunteers provided the Humanities input to the apps, with the students looked after Digital, but for a variety of reasons there was little direct contact between the two. T his was top-down Digital Humanities. I f we were to run a similar exercise again we would make efforts to create a truly multi-disciplinary team with integration at the grass roots. T here would be many benefits, not least developing the ability to talk to and understand workers in different fields. T he sum is greater than the parts. H istor y students W hite Rock and the other Connected Communities projects were encouraged from the start to offer opportunities for students to contribute and gain experience. W hite Rock provided work and experience for about twenty students in all. T hey all added greatly to the project and were welcomed by the volunteers. T he volunteers, by the way, are on the whole of the typical demographic for voluntary heritage and history organisations ? retired and chronologically gifted. All the students were interviewed before joining, a two way process. Most decided W hite Rock would contribute to their studies and CV s. One of the first tasks followed a guided visit to the Richard Burton Archives in which two students, Stacey T unmore and Dominic Williams, participated. A highlight of the visit was finding the original 1736 lease for W hite Rock. T he well-preserved two-page very large handwritten document was clearly going to provide a mine of information for the project. We arranged for high quality photographs to be taken and printed life-size. T hey now form a central part of the travelling W hite Rock display. Stacey and Dominic volunteered to transcribe the lease, a page each. We were surprised and very grateful, as this is not a trivial task. T he handwriting is clerkly but not easy to read. T here are crossings out, a small amount of surface damage, and crucially the writing gets smaller and cramped as it approaches the bottom of the second sheet. Vellum was expensive. An accurate transcription depended on knowledge of the legal forms of the period as well as specifics of the W hite Rock principals and copper smelting industry.
T he River Dock at W hite Rock is a walled inlet from the Tawe accepting medium-sized vessels for loading and unloading or careening ? hauling the vessel onto it?s side to expose the fouled bottom planks for cleaning. I t had always been assumed that the River Dock was created soon after the copper works opened in 1837. W hen clearing buddleia which was damaging the stonework the volunteers found that the dock was built in three distinct periods, using increasingly sophisticated construction techniques. Returning to the lease transcription we found in the small print a caveat on the lessee and ?? his heirs and assigns keeping the said Dock Key and Banks at all times in good repair.? T he Dock dates at least in part before 1836, indicating that there was very likely a pre-industrial community on the river bank. One theory is that the inlet was originally a tributary of the Tawe, a stream running from Kilvey Hill. I n the seventeenth century the stream was diverted to a long-lost corn mill (or the mill was built beside the stream), then along a culvert that still exists beside the cycle track to the river a hundred metres downstream. We brought in a dowser to test this theory, but that is another story. T he second major contribution by students was scouring and summarising oral histories held in the Miners L ibrary and West Glamorgan Archives Service. Bleddyn Penny, now Dr Penny, took the lead. T he W hite Rock volunteers have since conducted more interviews to record memories of W hite Rock and its later days. T hese and the work of the students, many with transcriptions, are on the Oral History pages of the Friends of W hite Rock web site: www.friendsofwhiterock.org.uk W hite Rock Mini Confer ence I n early 2014 we held a project-end celebration at Swansea Museum?s Collections Centre with contributions from the students, followed in June by a one day ?mini-conference? in the university. T his was an opportunity for the students to present their work to an invited audience. T his phase of the project thus came to a signposted end rather than fizzling out.
W hite Rock Heritage Park in the 1990s, via Swansea Museum
T he W hite Rock T rail mobile app, http:/ / whiterocktrails.org/ digital-trails
T he Futur e Over 100 heritage and local history groups can be found within ten miles of the Singleton Campus. T here is tremendous interest and enthusiasm for history in the Swansea area, and any number of excellent locally-written books and articles in book shops and libraries. Not least of these is T he W hite Rock Ferry by volunteers T udor and Janet Price, so far published in two editions and five printings. T he students who worked with W hite Rock gained valuable experience and made great contributions to the project. Students who have worked with other community projects report similar experiences. T he Friends of W hite Rock have also enjoyed contributions from Environment Conservation students at the University of Wales T rinity St David. We are one of two subjects of a PhD thesis by Sarah Rojon of the UniversitĂŠ de L yon, an anthropological study of volunteer heritage groups. We will find out about ourselves later this year ? T he Friends are currently seeking funding for major clearance, conservation and maintenance of the 48 acre site. I n parallel with this our research work continues apace. T here are always opportunities for students to make contributions to W hite Rock and other local projects. Continuing the Digital Humanities work into virtual reality and novel methods of presentation, research into the mysterious pre-industrial community, the economics of the copper trade, accidents and mortality, migration patterns, social history ? the list is unending. T here are projects for all out there. T hanks We owe thanks to Professor Huw Bowen of the History Department, and to Professors John T ucker and Matt Jones of Computer Science. Connected Communities and many other local projects owe a huge debt of gratitude to Kate Spiller, who has made so much possible for the projects and for students.
Department News From Professor David T urner H istor y Depar tment Resear ch News, 2017-18 Research in History at Swansea continues to thrive. I n September we welcomed a new colleague, Dr Nick Barnett, whose work explores the cultural history of Cold War Britain. Nick is about to publish a new book based on his research, Britain?s Cold War: Culture, Modernity and the Soviet Threat. Dr Gemma Outen also joined the Department in January to provide teaching cover. Gemma is a media historian whose PhD focussed on the temperance movement and Victorian periodicals. T he research culture in the Department is sustained by events where lecturers and postgraduate students present their own papers, and hear about the work of others. T he research seminar this year has included papers from our postgraduate students presenting their new perspectives on disability history, a celebration of the 500th anniversary of Martin L uther?s nailing his 95 theses to the door of the Schlosskirche in Wittenburg, seen by many as triggering the Protestant Reformation, and a discussion of T he History Manifesto (https:/ / www.cambridge.org/ core/ what-we-publish/ open-access/ the-history-manifesto) with one of its authors, Professor Jo Guldi. We have also been treated to a fascinating insight into the scientific world of the thirteenth-century polymath Robert Grosseteste by researchers on the Ordered Universe project at Durham University. T he academic year ended with the annual History Department lecture, given by Professor David Edgerton from King?s College L ondon, in which he discussed his new book that provides a bold new interpretation of modern British history, The Rise and Fall of the British Nation: A Twentieth Century History.
Portrait of Robert Grosseteste, Bishop of L incoln, Wikimedia Commons
T he Department has also run workshops and conferences. PhD students Gemma Almond and Jessica Rosenthal-McGrath organised The All Seeing Eye? in April, at which speakers presented new perspectives on eyesight and vision across time and cultures. Each year, members of the Medieval and Early Modern research group organise the Symposium By the Sea. T his year?s event, which took place on 28-29 June, took Britain and its Neighbours as its theme a timely topic in the age of Brexit!
For me personally, the highlight of 2018 has been the publication of my book, co-authored with Daniel Blackie, Disability in the I ndustrial Revolution: Physical impairment in British Coalmining 1780-1880 (Manchester University Press). Other book highlights of the academic year include Chris Millington?s Fighting for France: Violence in I nter-War French Politics (Oxford University Press), and Patricia Skinner?s textbook, Studying Gender in Medieval Europe: Historical Perspectives (Palgrave-Macmillan). Patricia Skinner also co-edited (with Emily Cock), Approaching Facial Difference: Past and Present (Bloomsbury Academic). I n December we celebrated the publication of Simon John?s book, Godfrey of Bouillon: Duke of Lower Lotharingia, Ruler of Latin Jerusalem, c.1060-1100 (Routledge), which began life as a Swansea PhD thesis. Alex L anglands has published Craeft: How Traditional Crafts are more than just Making (Faber and Faber), which highlights the significance of craft as alternative wisdom and knowledge about the world. Alex treated the Department to a hands-on demonstration of crafting skills as part of the research seminar series in April. Historians at Swansea don?t just publish their work in books or journals. Presenting our work to the public via the media, through popular publications, and through exhibitions and public engagement events, is crucial to our mission. Legacy of Longfields, a project supported by the Heritage L ottery Fund, is a great example of how historical research can connect communities and allow people whose voices have not been heard in mainstream historical narratives to have a platform. T he project is led by Dr Rebecca Clifford and PhD student Teresa Hillier, and traces the history of L ongfields, Swansea?s school for children for cerebral palsy that was established in 1952. T he project has brought together former service-users of L ongfields with current pupils at Pen-y-Bryn school in Swansea to help co-produce an exhibition that opened at the National Waterfront Museum on 9 May 2018. Several students from the Department have volunteered on the project.
'How would you label yourself?', L egacy of L ongfields, photograph taken by David T urner
Next year promises to be just as exciting. We?re particularly looking forward to Now the Hero, an immersive theatre experience taking place across Swansea from 25 to 29 September as the climax to events commemorating the First World War. Dr Gethin Matthews will be preparing a video installation based on his research on Welsh experiences of the conflict, which will be shown at various venues in the city. T here has been much to celebrate in 2017-18, but the year has also been tinged with sadness. I n April our former Head of Department, Professor Noel T hompson, passed away. Noel was a distinguished economic historian whose most recent work examined socialist political economy in nineteenth-century Britain. I t was thanks to Noel that I came to Swansea University in 2005 and I always found him a kind and nurturing colleague. He will be sadly missed.
Professor Noel T hompson, http:/ / www.swansea.ac.uk/ staff / arts-and-humanities/ academic / thompsonnoel/
Professor David T urner Head of History
T he Gar dens of the English Elite: Wer e the English r uling elite Fr ancophilic in the Eighteenth Centur y? By L uke Rees
ABOUT THE AUTHOR L uke Rees is an MA History student at Swansea University. During his undergraduate studies he acquired a specific interest in eighteenth-century English landscape gardening and its socio-political undertones. He hopes to continue this research to PhD level, with a specific focus on landscape gardens in the context of the populist political climate of the Seven Years' War. Despite his historical interests, he is sadly incapable of keeping even ivy alive, and hopes one day to experience the thrill of a living house-plant.
I t is well known that eighteenth century English aristocrats came under significant scrutiny for their Francophilic sympathies. Admiral Byng?s failure at Minorca in May 1756 triggered abusive and damning depictions of England?s leading men. His adversaries significantly dressed his effigy, before burning it, in ?lac?d coat and fine wig? in South Shields; in his uniform, ?with a little of his usual A-la-mode? in Darlington; and ?richly dress?d in a Blue and Gold Coat, Buff Waistcoat, trimmed etc.? in L ondon?.1 T hese sober efforts signified staunch opposition to French culture at a crucial stage in the Seven Years War. Public opinion pushed for unusual war aims, seeking less, the expansion of the British Empire, than the destruction of France. John Hardwicke wrote to L ord Newcastle in September 1755 from Warwick, after having observed that the nation?s
principle was ?hopes of destroying the French marine inclined [ ? ] to war?.2 W hile John ?Estimate? Brown?s classic criticism An Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the T imes, published in L ondon in 1757, ?touched a nerve in many quarters?, his broad generalisation of England?s ruling class failed to acknowledge obvious and conscious efforts, by the people he was criticising, to pursue a purely patriotic culture through their designs of the English landscape.3 Since the early years of the century (Joseph Addison?s Spectator articles are often credited with starting the trend), England?s political protagonists had aspired toward a garden style based on emblematic symbols of patriotism.4 T hey achieved this through the socially encompassing arrangement of the ferme ornee; through structural symbolism, which was mastered by L ord Cobham at Stowe, and alluded to
ISSUE 6 W higgish concepts. He further demonstrated this through the resurrection of ancient English constitutional values and through Gothic ruins, which had been forsaken during the Walpole administration. W hen taking these characteristics into account, it becomes increasingly difficult to commend the concept of Francophobic aristocratic criticism.
Viewof theHouse fromtheparterre, StoweHousein Buckinghamshire, Bernard Baron and Jacques Rigaud, etchingand engraving, 1733- 1739 Six months after Byng?s execution, on 1 December 1757, George I I addressed the House of L ords during his opening speech, and drew their attention to ?that spirit of disorder, which has shown itself amongst the common people, in some parts of the kingdom?.5 Minorca not only proved a significant territorial loss, but also, with the aid of William Beckford?s anti-ministerial Monitor, led to an ?extreme degree of public alienation from the Newcastle 6 administration?. T he government severely lacked an open ear that was willing to hear the national outcry against its rulers. As John Phibbs stated it, England was ?a nation [ ? ] searching amongst its people for originals?.7 T hus appeared William Pitt, who claimed to ?speak not with
respect to parties, I stand up in this place single and unconnected?.8 His rejection of the Pelhamite regime, which had procured ?[ ? ] policies designed to consolidate and build upon a hard-won imperial ascendancy - all with little regard for their impact or reception among the domestic population?, captured the disconcerted public and, along with Beckford, he steered the patriotic sloop against the winds of Newcastle?s alienating administration.9 Beckford would state, in a manner echoing the words of Brown?s Estimate, that he was ?perfectly convinced from [ his] own experience that the middling sort of people are the most uncorrupted and consequently the most to be depended on in case of danger either from our enemies abroad or from our own intestine commotions?.10 But these attempts to garner the support of the masses were not revolutionary principles; nor were they restricted to Parliament. T he Earl of Shaftesbury wrote in 1712 that ?Nothing is so improving, nothing so natural, so con-genial to the liberal Arts as that reigning L iberty and high spirit of a People?.11 T his emphasis on ?People? was drawn from elements of Renaissance civic virtue and manifested itself in the design of the ferme ornee in the second quarter of the eighteenth century. I n a virtuous society where the Many provide the labour and produce of the nation in return for representation by the Few in government; ideas of the land and its cultivation are crucial. Joseph Addison?s 1712 Spectator article No. 414 draws on the importance of pastoral land and suggests how it may be exhibited in
aristocratic gardens. He writes ?But why may not a whole estate be thrown into a kind of garden by frequent plantations, that may turn as much to the profit of as the pleasures of the owner??.12 Denis Cosgrove suggests that ?T he image confirms the comforting sense of paternal responsibility on the part of the landowner whose ?cheerful peasants toil, but in doing so bless their labour and owe their happy existence to the care of their ?lord??.13 T he opportunity to express these political notions through the landscape was taken up by L ord Southcoate in 1735, whose Woburn Farm was ?the first example of the ornamented farm and was directly inspired by Addison?s essays on Taste? and was ?esteem?d the most elegant in England? in 1757.14 Southcoate?s execution of the ferme ornee was a conscious effort to embrace the livelihoods of the common people of England, the Many, and it did so without any influence from France. I ndeed, if parkland was going to be used as an exhibition of English society?s hierarchical integration, ?everything in it would have to be of English make, underpinned by English agriculture?.15 William Pitt, after purchasing Hayes Place in Kent from a Mrs Montagu in 1756, also practiced the style. He redesigned his grounds so that, visiting her former property in 1771, Mrs Montague wrote to her husband of how Pitt had ?called forth all the rural beauties from a spot which was once very unpromising. I wish you could see how sweet a pastoral scene he has made around him?.16 Pitt, who had sat the common man on the benches of Westminster,
had also brought him into his personal grounds by sweeping aside parterres and hedges that had stood in the French manner and opening up the grounds of Hayes Place to a spot of ?rural beauties?. Pitt was also a frequent visitor at Shenstone?s T he L easowes, another celebrated example of the ferme ornee.
AViewof Wooburn in Surrey theSeat of PhilipSouthcote Esqr, LukeSullivan, etchingand engraving, 1759
I t seems that, rather than submitting to France?s high art and culture, there was a certain landscape movement which, beginning in the first quarter of the century, embraced the labour of the lower ranks of English society and provided a landscape that was essentially English. Distancing himself from the targets of Francophobic criticism, in 1770, William Pitt, speaking in the House of L ords, declared that ?Without connections, without any natural interest in the soil, the importers of foreign gold have forced their way into Parliament?.17 T he ferme ornee, however, was not the only means of expressing patriotic fervour through landscape design.
ISSUE 6 I ndeed, 'Cobham and his circle created in the garden at Stowe what George Clark has called a ?political manifesto, traditional ideals of government being contrasted with the decadence of the Walpole 18 administration''. T his statement may at first seem assuming and baseless, yet this essay argues it can be asserted with absolute confidence. Barbara Jenkins states that ?in contrast to political theories that discuss abstract, unseen ideas, high art provides us with a clear, material expression of ideas? and this was certainly achieved in the political and patriotic gardens of the mid-eighteenth century.19 By ?Rejecting the magnificent formalism of L e Notre?s design at Versailles as an expression of absolutism and tyranny, British W higs, such as L ord Cobham, requested landscapes that exhibited the British love of L iberty?.20 Samuel Kliger argues that there is an obvious divide between W hig and Tory garden tastes and that the Tory ideal resembled the formalism that could be seen in France?s gardens. He states that while W hig principles were ?displayed in the inexhaustible imaginative energy of the Gothic building?, in contrast, ?the symmetry and balance of the Grecian building apotheosized the Tory aim of maintaining national stability through a vested aristocratic interest and a strong monarchy?.21 I t should be remembered that Brown?s criticism of the ruling elite did not distinguish between W higs and Tories, but he treated his target as an undifferentiated mass. He argues that ?the ruling pride of a modern man of fashion, lies in the parade of Dress, Gaming, Entertainments, and 22 Equipage?. Omitting the W higs?
rejection of French formalism no doubt plays to his advantage, but without acknowledging their conscious patriotic symbolism, Brown cannot expect his work to be applicable to all ?modern men?. T he W hig, or, for the sake of this essay, the ?patriotic?, style of gardening involved ?Sweeping aside countless geometrically precise alles, canals, and parterres done in the ?French taste?, creating around their estates ?a landscape of rolling fields relieved by seemingly random drifts of trees, meandering streams, and irregularly shaped ponds and lakes?.23 As Richard Payne Knight explains, ?every shaggy shrub and spreading tree, Proclaims the seat of native liberty?.24 John Shebbeare, writing to Rev. Father Filippo Bonini in Rome, taking on the persona of an I talian visitor in England, wrote in 1755 that ?T hey [ the English] have excluded that regularity of plan which makes the design of all gardens in every other part of Europe? and that there appears ?infinite variety without regularity, agreeable to the face of nature that diversifies all, and not according to the ancient and present taste of France and I taly?.25 T his freer aesthetic style, Kliger believes, ?is actually a transfer to the party of a contrast drawn earlier in the period between French servility under tyrants and English parliamentary liberalism the inference being that the French were doomed to classical art?.26 T he obvious methods employed by British W higs to rid their gardens of all formal features had, at least by Shebbeare?s estimations, become the dominant style by 1755. But English gardens did not entirely omit sculpture and architecture from
their sweeping lawns. I nstead, amongst their sweeping fields, they mortared representative emblems that alluded to further expressions of liberty and English magnificence. A curious interest in association and symbolism arose in W hig gardens, which instructed the viewer to see a garden object according to its historical or political connotations. John Archer explains that ?the perspicacious visitor? of the Temple of British Worthies at Cobham?s Stowe ?would realise that eight of the so-called Worthies could be associated with the W hig political heritage, and the other eight could be associated with challenges to 27 established authority?. Similarly, L ord L ittleton?s garden at Hagley, which he started in 1751 with the help of his cousin William Pitt, incorporated memorials that would have excited the patriotic observer. T homson?s Seat, an octagonal building dedicated ?To the immortal genius of James T homson?would have reminded the visitor of T homson?s immortal and deeply patriotic verse: ?Rule, Britannia! Britannia rule the waves: Britons never will be slaves?.28 Archer has also pointed out the significance of ?the bastions at Blenheim?, which ?presumably refer to the character of the Duke of Marlborough, to whose military achievements all of Blenheim was built as a monument?.29 T hese references to English history are obvious, but perhaps the most striking was Cobham?s Temple of Modern Virtue at Stowe. T he Temple, ?built as a ruin and ornamented with the headless statue of Walpole, was a reminder, wry or wrathful, as the case may be, of immediate priorities?.30
T hese priorities involved toppling the Tory regime and championing public opinion, which had come to associate its ruling class with France?s high culture. T hese were, of course, dealt with during the war by William Pitt. William Gilpin, writing in 1748, commented on Cobham?s Temples of Modern and Ancient Virtue, stating ?T he moral is that Glory founded upon true worth and Honour, will exist, when Fame, built upon conquest and popular Applause, will fade away?.31 T he significance of the Temple of Modern Virtue was vested mostly in its architectural aesthetic. Built as a Gothic ruin, it gave the unmistakeable effect of decadence and the historical past. I n fact, Kliger states that ?T he Gothic edifice came to stand for the entire liberalising tendency of the W hig movement towards parliamentary supremacy unfettered by monarchical control?.32 T he relation of the ruin to English heritage was a key feature of mid eighteenth century garden design; the English landscape had contained Gothic features for centuries and so their incorporation into the new vision of gardening was practical; but the Gothic style was especially favoured for its association with the English constitution and the virtues that were contained in it, which were thought to have been defied by Walpole?s and Pelham?s governments.
TheTempleof Ancient Virtue, StoweHouse, Buckinghamshire, WilliamKent, drawing, 1730- 1740
Jenkins?s notion that ?high art provides us with a clear, material expression of ideas? is echoed by Sue Chaplin, who argues that, in order to legitimise legislature, law-makers, ?seeking thus to purify what might be termed the law-as-L ogos become obsessed with the question of origin?.33 Eighteenth century W higs, who wished to substantiate their claims against the alienating Tory government, thus harkened back to constitutional ideas and expressed them accordingly in their gardens as acts of patriotism. I n fact, Horace Walpole would state in 1779 that ?T he English Taste in Gardening is thus the growth of the English Constitution & must perish with it?.34 By the middle of the century, ?the compromise-ideal embraced by writers across the political spectrum regarding the British historical legacy was that of the ?Gothic balance? in Britain?s constitution?.35 James Harrington?s Oceana published in 1656, states that ?I f the few or a nobility with the clergy, be landlords, or over-balance the people unto like proportion, it makes the Gothic balance?.36 T he idea
expounded in Renaissance civic virtue, which we have already seen through the ferme ornee style, was also exhibited through Gothic ruins, celebrating Harrington?s ?Gothic balance?. Richard Pococke, visiting the W hig Secretary of War, Henry Fox?s, Bramham House in August 1750, noted that ?One comes around to a Doric building like the front of a temple & then to a Gothic building not quite finished?. He also observed, at William Temple?s More Park, that ?T he ruins of a monastery add no small beauty to it; the church is much destroyed?.37 T hese Gothic ruins were not unconscious additions to their respective landscapes, but all served the purpose of historical association. As William Shenstone wrote: ?A ruin, for instance, may be neither new to us, nor majestic, nor beautiful, yet afford that pleasing melancholy which proceeds from a reflexion on decayed magnificence?; this ?decayed magnificence? having been aided by the Walpole and Pelham administrations and their affinities towards France.38 I t is no coincidence that Temple made use of the ruined Cistercian monastery at More Park: Waverley Abbey had been inhabited by Catholic monks and its decadence showed the destruction of that branch of Christianity in England. Clearly, these were patriotic symbols. L yttleton?s Hagley also contained a ruin, built by Sanderson Miller after 1751. T he sham gave such a convincing effect that Horace Walpole would proclaim ?I t has the true rust of the Barons? Wars?.39 Furthermore, L ord Macaulay?s T he History of England from the Accession of James I I , first published in 1848, states that at the time of the English Civil War,
?noble principles had taken deep roots in the minds of the English people?; principles that ?the people had preserved from the ruins of the Gothic constitution? which ?had in it many latent resources to preserve liberty?.40 Even into the nineteenth century then, the English Constitution was thought to have held certain civic virtues. During the Seven Years War, Pitt?s Militia Act, which effectively armed the masses, was perceived as deeply patriotic. I t was viewed as ?an alternative to the ignominy of paying others for Britain?s defence and as a valuable supplement to the Army, giving additional stability to the Constitution?.41 I t should be noted that the Constitution itself is not often quoted by eighteenth century writers. Take for example John Oldmixon?s statement in 1724 that ?No Nation has preserv?d their Gothic Constitution better than the English?.42 T he statement seems vague and impractical, and this might also be used as a criticism of Gothic ruins as expressions of constitutional values. However, this would be missing the applicability of the monuments. T he purpose of these allusions was to, more generally, create ?a mythic narrative of the birth of English law and of the English nation during a period in which notions of national identity and unity had been severely tried?.43
We have seen that the ferme ornee incorporated and celebrated the role of the land labourer in W higgish society and English virtue; that the freer, more open landscape depicted liberty in contrast to a fixed and more formal French style that alluded to tyranny; that temples and monuments were used as tokens of friendship amongst W higs; and that Gothic ruins were used to reflect ancient virtues that had been lost since their manifestation in the English Constitution. From the conception of the English garden in 1712 following Addison?s essays, Horace Walpole would celebrate in 1780 that ?We have discovered the point of perfection. We have given a true model of gardening to the world. L et other countries mimic or corrupt our taste; but let it reign here on its verdant throne, original by its elegant simplicity?.44 T he English landscape served throughout the eighteenth century as a stage on which to express patriotism. For the W higs, it provided an opportunity to disassociate themselves from Tory practices. From Walpole to Newcastle, the Tories were considered by most as too formal and too French to lead Britain through the Seven Years War. I t is strange but logical that it took the ?gran mago? of garden design, William Pitt, to lead Britain to a decisive patriotic victory by 1763.
REFERENCES 1. Kathleen Wilson, The Sense of the People-Politics, Culture and I mperialism in England, 1715-1785, (L ondon :Cambridge University Press, 1995), p. 189. 2. John Hardwicke to L ord Newcastle, 29 September 1755. Found in Marie Peters, Pitt and Popularity: The Patriot Minister and London Opinion During the Seven Years War, (New York: Oxford University Press, 1980), p. 43. 3. I lias Chrissockoidis, Reforming Handel: John Brown and The Cure of Saul (1763), (Royal Musical Association: 2011), p. 211. 4. W hile compiling his notes for ?The English Garden in the 1760s, William Mason concluded that Addison?s Essay 414 had started the gardening reformation in 1712. 5. The Parliamentary History of England From the Earliest Period to the Year 1803, Vol. XV, A.D. 1753-1765, (L ondon: 1813), p. 830. 6. Wilson, p. 180. 7. John Phibbs, The Englishness of Lancelot ?Capability? Brown, (T he Garden History Society, 2003), p. 126. 8. I n Jonathan L amb, The Medium of Publicity and the Garden at Stowe, (Pennsylvania: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1996), p. 58. 9. Wilson, p. 137-8. 10. William Beckford to John Kirk, 1754 in Perry Gauci, Empire and Patriotism in W illiam Beckford, First
Prime-Minister of the London Empire, (L ondon: Yale University Press, 2013), p. 77. 11. Earl of Shaftesbury, Characteristicks, Vol. I I I , (L ondon: 1732), p. 403 12. Mavis Batey, The Pleasures of the I magination: Joseph Addison?s I nfluence on Early Landscape Gardens, (T he Garden History Society, 2005), p. 196. 13. Denis Cosgrove, Social Formation and Symbolic Landscape, (Madison: T he University of Wisconsin Press, 1984), p. 213. 14. H. F. Clark Eighteenth Century Elysiums: The Role of Association in the Landscape Movement, (T he Warburg I nstitute, 1943), p. 171. & Richard Pococke?s Travels Through England, 1750-7, in John Dixon Hunt and Peter Willis Ed., The Genius of the Place: The English Landscape Garden 1620-1820, (Massachusetts: T he MI T Press, 1988), p. 267. 15. Phibbs, p. 133. 16. Michael Symes, W illiam Pitt the Elder: The Gran Mago of Landscape Gardening, (T he Garden History Society, 1996), p. 129. 17. William Pitt addressing House of L ords, 22 January 1770 in James Bunn, The Aesthetics of British Mercantilism, (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1980), p. 317. 18. Stephen Bending, Re-Reading the Eighteenth Century English Landscape Garden, (Pennsylvania:
19. Barbara Jenkins, Low Politics in High Art, (California: Sage Publications, 1999), p. 194. 20. Jenkins, p. 197-8. 21. Samuel Kliger, W hig Aesthetics: A Phase of Eighteenth Century Taste, (Baltimore: John Hopkins University Press, 1949), p. 135. 22. John Brown, Estimate of the Manners and Principles of the Times, Vol. 2, (L ondon: T he Royal Society, 1757), p. 95. 23. Robert Dalzell Jr., Constructing I ndependence: Monticello, Mount Vernon, and the Men W ho Built Them, (Baltimore: T he Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993), p. 561. 24. I n British Botanical and Horticultural Literature Before 1800, Vol. I I : Eighteenth Century, Henry Blanche Ed., (L ondon: Oxford University Press, 1975), p. 539. 25. John Shebbeare, Letters on the English Nation, 1755, in Dixon Hunt & Willis Ed., p. 279. 26. Kliger, p. 144. 27. John Archer, The Beginnings of Association in British Architectural Esthetics, (Eighteenth Century Studies, 1983), p. 253. 28. Clark, p. 173. 29. Archer, p. 245. 30. L amb, p. 62. 31. William Gilpin, A Dialogue upon the Garden at Stowe, (1748), in L amb, p. 70.
32. Kliger, p. 135. 33. Sue Chaplin, ?Written in the Black Letter?: The Gothic and/ in the Rule of Law, (Abingdon: Taylor & Francis: 2005), p. 50. 34. Horace Walpole, Notes on W illiam Mason?s Garden, (1779), in Kliger, p. 141. 35. L aura Doyle, Freedom?s Empire: Race and the Rise of the Novel in Atlantic Modernity, 1640-1940, (North Carolina: Duke University Press: 2008), p. 65. 36. James Harrington in Joshua David Jones, The Recreation of the World: Power, Property and Globalism in Modern Pastoral and Agrarian Fashion of the Eighteenth and Twentieth Centuries, (New York: Fordham University, 2013), p. 101. 37. Pococke in Dixon Hunt & Willis Ed., p 265 & 267. 38. William Shenstone Unconnected Thoughts on Modern Gardening, in Dixon Hunt & Willis Ed., p. 289. 39. Clark, p. 173. 40. Doyle, p. 71. 41. Peters, p. 41. 42. John Oldmixon, 1924, in Samuel Kliger, The ?Goths? in England: An I ntroduction to the Gothic Vogue in Eighteenth Century Aesthetic Discussion, (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1945), p. 107. 43. Chaplin, p. 56. Horace Walpole in Phibbs, p. 125.
W hy wer e Viking r aids so successful? By Joseph T homas ABOUT THE AUTHOR Joseph T homas is a Master's student of history at Swansea University. His research areas mainly focus around military history, the American Civil War and European I mperialism in the Eighteen and Nineteenth centuries. However, he has also taken interest in Viking age Britain and I mperial Rome during his undergraduate degree at Swansea.
T he raids that were carried out by the Vikings devastated and harassed much of Northern Europe during the eighth, ninth and tenth centuries. T hese raids were very successful due to several contributing factors which I am going to present and analyse during this article. T he most influential factor, in my opinion, were the Viking maritime skills combined with their ship technology. T he long-ship enabled the Vikings to extend their influence and raid extensively over the shores of Northern Europe. T he maritime prowess of the Vikings also benefitted them tactically during their raiding. T he Viking raiders incorporated hit and run tactics on poorly defended targets, achieving great success, due to the long-ship giving the raiders greater mobility. L ater in the period, the Vikings established winter camps, which enabled them to penetrate and raid further inland within Christian kingdoms. Another significant factor that contributed to the Viking raiders being successful was the warrior culture within Scandinavian society. Warrior culture had a big impact on the nature and success of the Viking raids. T he combination of young men going through a rite of passage and an elite group of ?beserkers? in the ranks of Viking raiders made them a formidable raiding force. T he ranks of the Viking raiders were full of men motivated by combat and booty, which made them a menacing raiding force determined to succeed. Finally, the Vikings often came up against disputing and divided Kingdoms when they launched their raiding campaigns. T he Kingdom of the Franks and Kingdom of Northumbria had often been weak opposition during the Viking raids and regularly fell victim to successful Viking raids due to their lack of cohesion and unity as Kingdoms. T he weakness of the opposition was an important factor which boosted the success rate of Viking raids.
T he maritime skills of the Viking raiders combined with the use of the long-ship gave the raiders an edge over those they targeted. Archaeologist Anton Wilhelm BrĂ¸gger describes the characteristics of the Viking ships; ?L ong-ship is the basic term throughout for ship of war. I t means what it says, a ship which is long and narrow, to make it a fast-rowing vessel?.1 T he vessels which the Vikings made use of on their raiding expeditions are designed to be fast and mobile; enabling them to strike a target and escape just as quickly. Martin Arnold re-emphasises this argument; ?T he main purpose of the long-ship was to deliver warriors to land. T his lethal practicality was enhanced by the elegance of its design?.2 T he use of the long-ship in Viking raids was an essential factor in their success due to its efficient nature. Historian Peter Sawyer emphasises the combination of Viking maritime technology and skills; ?T he Scandinavians of the Viking period are seen to have been masters of the design and use of sailing ships?.3 Sawyer indicates that these two attributes complimented one another well in their endeavours. Sawyer goes on to describe the advantages of these vessels as being; ?possession of these cunningly contrived vessels that gave them one of their most important technical advantages?.4 T he use of long-ships by the Vikings enabled them to be highly mobile in transporting warriors across the North Sea to the raiding targets. Another key characteristic of the Viking long-ship was its ability to land on the beach, without the need of a dock - meaning that the raiding party was close to their target. Viking raiders were able to target anything along the coastlines of Northern Europe, thanks to the long-ship. Ole Crumlin-Pedersen describes this ability of the long-ship; ?the principles of the hull design had enabled the ships to be laid down on the beach. T he boats were intended to land through the surf [ ...] even in rough conditions?.5 T he ability of the long-ship to land in rough conditions upon the beach made it a very reliable tool for Viking raids. T he ability of the long-ship to be fast, mobile and able to land upon a beach made it the perfect raiding vessel for the Vikings. Holger Arbham argues that ?T he greatest advantage of the Vikings was their high mobility?.6 Similarly, Eric Oxenstierna conveys this argument; ?A ll organised defence proved unavailing against the mobility of the Vikings?.7 Arbham and Oxenstierna arguments demonstrate that the mobility of the Vikings enabled them to be very successful raiders along the coastlines of Northern Europe. Sawyer credits the long-ship to ?making the extended activities of the Scandinavians both possible and profitable?.8 T he long-ship certainly gave the Vikings the mobility, speed and stealth they needed in their raiding and Arnold argues that ?the real key to their success, then was the long-ship?.9 T he long-ship certainly gave the Vikings the means to carry out successful raids, however, other factors certainly contributed to their success. T he long-ship contributed to the Vikings using hit and run tactics on isolated,
un-defended, and wealthy sites. T he nature of the tactics and the targets chosen played to the advantage of their maritime prowess had a major influence on the success of raids. T he Viking raiders were able to adopt a hit and run tactic due to their maritime skill and use of the long-ship. T he early raids of the Vikings also targeted poorly defended coastal targets, monastic houses and churches. T he Vikings faced little resistance and gained high reward targeting these locations. Historian Andrew Pearson suggests that ?during the eighth and early ninth centuries, appears to have comprised of opportunist raiding on vulnerable coastal targets?.10 One such event occurred at L indisfarne in the year 793 A.D.: T he Canterbury Manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle describes the events; ?the raiding of the heathen miserably devastated God?s church in L indisfarne I sland by looting and slaughter?.11 T he account illustrates the nature of a Viking raid on an isolated target along the English coastline. Eric Oxenstierna describes the raid; ?T hey seized all the monastic treasure? and were gone as suddenly as they had appeared?.12 Oxenstierna re-emphasises the ability of the Viking raiders using their ships in a hit and run manner after looting successfully. Robin Fleming?s work on Viking raids targeting monastic house and churches demonstrates a wider perspective into the topic. Fleming states ?other houses followed the sack of L indisfarne: Albington, Barking, Chertsey, Crowland, Ely, Evesham, L eominster, St. Neats, and Stamford?.13 T his indicates that targeting monastic houses and churches must have been profitable for Viking raids during this period. Michael Kirby argues that ?the Northmen very quickly learned that the richest store houses of silver, churches and monasteries, were also the least well defended?.14 L ooking at these accounts, the Vikings had a good level of success raiding these vulnerable targets filled with valuable goods. T he early raids that used the maritime advantage of the Vikings in the hit and run fashion proved to be very successful. However, the development of winter camps enabled the Vikings to launch expeditions sooner and deeper into enemy territory. Eric Oxenstierna suggests that, because ?of these early raids for booty, there gradually evolved grandiose field expeditions, land conquests and a dominion over land and sea lanes?.15 T he success of early raids led to a deeper desire to continue raiding further into territory previously plundered by the Vikings. Michael Kirkby describes the advantage of winter camps to the Vikings raiding; ?T he long, hazardous, energy-consuming journeys back to the Vik or L imfjord were eliminated?.16 T he establishment of winter camps permitted the Vikings to launch raids quicker in the Spring due to the sea voyages being removed. T he Vikings now had the ability to raid until the winter and not risk the dangerous journeys back across the North Sea to their homeland. T his made their raiding successful because they could retain goods they had won, without chancing it
being lost on a sea voyage home. T he winter camps of the Vikings also allowed them to penetrate further into the heartlands of the territories they intended to raid. For example, in Francia, Janet Nelson describes a Viking camp; ?I n mid-August 856, Vikings came up the Seine and built a stronghold at Jeufosse, mooring their ships alongside?.17 T his stronghold would enable the Viking raiders to camp safely with their ships accessible if a quick getaway was needed. Nelson goes on to state; ?From here they launched raids into the Vexin, Perche and far into Francia itself?.18 T his indicates that the range of Viking raiding was increased due to the use of camps as a platform. T he ability of the Vikings to construct these camps also suggests that they were successful in the territories as they were permitted to do so without much resistance. T he warrior culture within Scandinavian society is also another influential factor in the success of Viking raiding. Warrior culture in Scandinavia was a fundamental part of society which contributed towards much of the motivation to go on raiding expeditions. T he warrior culture entails young men going through a rite of passage whilst taking part in raiding. T his was a big motivating factor for young men to take part and be successful on raiding missions. Also, the role of a group of warriors called ?Berserkers? would have had a moral shattering effect on enemy morale. Martin Arnold argues that ?in the Viking Age, young men in their mid-teenage years were eager to prove themselves as capable warriors, and the opportunity to go on Viking expeditions was eagerly seized?.19 T he influx of eager young men to prove their worth would have filled the ranks of the Viking raiders with men who were set on having success. Axel Olrik suggests that ?bloodthirstiness and cruelty were pronounced characteristics of that age [ ...] T he men of that age found pleasure in a battle-ground filled with corpses?.20 T he very nature of warfare and raiding in this period is filled with brutality and bloodshed. T he Viking raids were made successful by this brutal nature because it struck fear in the hearts of Christian inhabitants. I t was also a common theme that Viking warriors fight without fear of death. Richard F. Bensel describes their mentality in battle; ?Viking warriors drew courage Valhalla awaited them if they were to fall in battle?.21 T he Viking warrior mentality benefitted them to perform well in combat having the knowledge that they would ascend to Valhalla if they died well on the battlefield. T his gave them an edge over Christian opposition who did not share the same mentality of dying in battle.
Etching depicting Viking longships on the sea, Gerhard Albe (1892-1965), Sjรถhistoriska museet, Stockholm
Another advantage the Vikings possessed was the impact of the ?berserker? during a Viking attack or raid was that the ?berserker? would have contributed to the success of the Viking raids due to their use as a shock troop. Johannes BrĂ¸nsted explains the nature of these troops; ?the Viking warrior known as the ?berserk?; the violent, half-mad fighter who possessed terrifying strength while battle-fever was upon him?.22 T hese warriors would have been completely engulfed in battle fever, making them brutal in nature. Else Rosedahl suggests that, ?the death-cap mushroom may have been eaten by the berserkers to induce them into a state of frenzy which gave them enormous strength and insensible to pain?.23 T he Vikings would use these formidable warriors as impact or shock troops to scare and intimidate their enemies, should they decide to face the Vikings in the field. Historian, Martina Sprague, argues that ?the Berserkers were the most feared of Viking Warriors because they fought with absolutely no regard for their own safety?.24 T hese warriors would have been a terrifying force to come up against during a raid or in battle. Sprague also comments; ?T he role of the berserkers was to make the first attack to shock their victims into flight or submission?.25 T he use of the berserkers by the Vikings would have certainly shocked, terrified, and added to their fearsome reputation in Christian lands, which would not have practiced in the Viking style of warfare. Eric Oxenstierna indicates that ?the tactics developed from Strandhugg were far superior to the military strategy being practiced by the Christian states of central Europe?.26 T he Viking raiders had the edge over their Christian counterparts; but it was also infighting and weakness of the Christian kingdoms which enabled the Vikings to be frequently successful. T he Viking raiders ravaged and harrowed the North Atlantic coasts of Northern Europe and very often exploited internal disputes within Christian kingdoms. T he divisions within Christian kingdoms helped the Vikings exploit weaknesses in their defences. T he infighting and lack of unity weakened coastal defences and organised defence against the Viking raids. Holger Arbman highlights the conditions of these kingdoms; ?in France and Russia, as so in England, a time of weakness and division contributed to the success of the Viking attack?.27 T he Viking raids and attacks already had a maritime, tactical and fearsome warrior culture advantage over their victims; the divisions made the raids even more successful for the raiders as effective defence against them could not be organised. Alfred Smyth suggests ?the success of the Danes in Northumbria was made easier by the civil war which then raged within the kingdom between two rival kings?.28 Smyth is referring to the arrival of the ?Great Heathen Army? recorded in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle in the year 856, which conquered parts of Northumbria after their landing in East Anglia. Douglas John Vivian Fisher describes the nature of the army as ?a larger and more unified force than had ever previously come to
England?.29 T his unified and much larger force swept through the divided Kingdom of Northumbria with great success. T he Anglo-Saxon Chronicle describes the conditions in Northumbria as ?there was much dissension in that nation among themselves?.30 T he lack of unity within the kingdom enabled the Vikings to claim vast parts of land from the Northumbrians. Fisher indicates that, ?within four years Northumbria, north-eastern Mercia, and East-Anglia were under Danish control?.31 T he Viking force that landed in 865 was highly successful in raiding and conquering land from kingdoms that were weakened by divisions and infighting. T he conditions in Francia were very similar to those in Northumbria, and the Vikings would have good success there too. T he situation in the Kingdom of Francia was full of divisions and fighting between rivals that contributed to weaker defences against the Viking raiders. During the reign of Charlemagne, the Royal Frankish Annals describe his approach to defence in the year 800 A.D. T he Annals state; ?He [ Charlemagne] built a fleet on this sea, which was then infested with pirates?.32 T he efforts of Charlemagne to ward off Viking raiders enjoyed some success. However, after his death in 814 A.D., the Kingdom of the Franks became consumed with division and Charlemagne?s efforts began to be reversed. Historian, Peter Brent, describes the situation in Francia after Charlemagne; ?L othar, Charles the Bald, L ouis the German - the three sons of L ouis the Pious, tearing at each other and at the empire they all coveted?.33 T he attention of these three leaders was set on claiming power within the Kingdom of Francia, and not on the coastal defences of the empire. As a result of this neglect on the coastal defences, the Vikings were able to make huge inroads into Frankish territory. Holger Arbman describes the infamous sack of Paris in 845; ?in 845 a fleet of one hundred and twenty ships sailed up the Seine, which was led by a Ragnar who was probably the celebrated Ragnar L odbrok. T he coastal defences were no longer effective, and Paris fell to them?.34 T he Vikings were able to pass unchallenged up the Seine and sack the capital of the Western Frankish kingdom. Peter Brent also describes events in the same year; ?the Empire?s northern coastline lay open; in 845, under their king, Horik, and they swarmed over it, engulfing Hamburg?.35 T he Franks suffered greatly due to their divisions which facilitated great raids and successes for the Vikings as they could not maintain the defences put in place by Charlemagne.
VikingesvĂŚrd (Viking Sword), 9th to 10th Century, Nationalmuseet, the National Museum of Denmark, Wikimedia Commons
To conclude, the source of the Viking raiders?success began with their maritime skills and the use of the long-ship. T he two combined allowed the Vikings to sail effectively and reach distant shores with boat loads of raiders. T he long-ship allowed the Vikings to use hit and run tactics very well on vulnerable and isolated targets along the coasts of Northern Europe. I n particular, the raiding on monastic houses and churches proved very profitable as they were poorly defended and were generally wealthy centres. T he early raids later gave way to the development of winter camps which increased the range of Viking raiding. T hese camps decreased the lengthy journeys to and from Scandinavia to carry out raids; this enabled them to launch raids much sooner on their opposition. T he role of warrior culture was another influential factor which gave the Viking raiders an edge over their Christian rivals. T he young men within the ranks of the Viking raiders were motivated to be successful in their raiding as it would earn them status within society. Participating in a raid was also seen as an important event as it was a transition between childhood to manhood in Viking culture. T he use of ?berserkers? would also have been a formidable force to encounter as a Christian. T he status of ?berserker? was given to those warriors who would have fought fearlessly in the heat of battle; making them a terrifying adversary to face. Finally, the weakness of the Vikings opposition played a major role in their success. T he weakness of kingdoms such as Francia and Northumbria gave the Vikings opportunities to exploit and thrive from infighting within those kingdoms. Coastal defences and inland defences would often go un-maintained due to the infighting and that played right into the Vikings hand. Overall, the Vikings were a successful raiding force due to all of these factors playing to their advantage when on raiding expeditions across Northern Europe.
Cover illustration of P. A. Gรถdecke's Sagan om Ragnar Lodbrock, 1880, Wikimedia Commons
REFERENCES 1. A.W. BrĂ¸gger, T he Viking Ships: T heir Ancestry and Evolution (Oslo: Dreyers Forlag, 1971), p. 140. 2. Martin Arnold, T he Vikings: Wolves of War (L anham: Rowman & L ittlefield Publishers, 2007), p. 40. 3. P.H. Sawyer, ?T he Age of the Vikings? in T he Vikings: Proceedings of the Symposium of the Faculty of Arts of Uppsala University, June6-9, 1977, ed. by T horsten Andersson & Karl I nge Sandred, (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiskell international, 1978), p. 85. 4. P.H. Sawyer, ?T he Age of the Vikings? in T he Vikings, Edited by Andersson & Sandred, p. 85. 5. Ole Crumlin-Pedersen, ?T he Ships of the Vikings? in, T he Vikings: Proceedings of the Symposium of the Faculty of Arts of Uppsala University, June6-9, 1977, ed. by T horsten Andersson & Karl I nge Sandred, (Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiskell international, 1978), p. 40. 6. Holger Arbman, T he Vikings (L ondon: T hames and Hudson, 1962), p. 59. 7. Eric Oxenstierna, T he Norsemen (L ondon: Studio Vista, 1966), p. 53. 8. P.H. Sawyer, p. 85. 9. Martin Arnold, p. 40. 10. Andrew Pearson, ?Britannia?, Piracy in L ate Roman Britain: A Perspective from the Viking Age, 37 (2006), pp. 337-353, p.339. 11. Michael Swanton, ?T he Canterbury Manuscript? in T he Anglo-Saxon Chronicles (L ondon: Phoenix, 2000), p. 56. 12. Eric Oxenstierna, p. 52. 13. Robin Fleming, ?T he English Historical Review?, Monastic L ands and England?s Defence in the Viking Age, 100. 395 (1985), 247-265 (p.248). 14. Michael Hasloch Kirkby, T he Vikings (Oxford: Phaidon, 1977), p. 59. 15. Eric Oxenstierna, p. 53. 16. Michael Hasloch Kirkby, p. 66. 17. Janet L . Nelson, Charles the Bald (L ondon: L ongman, 1992), p. 181. 18. Janet L . Nelson, p. 181. 19. Martin Arnold, p. 46. 20. Axel Olrik, Viking Civilization (L ondon: Allen & Unwin, 1930), p. 99.
21. Richard F. Bensel, ?Polity?, Valour and Valkyries: W hy the State Needs Valhalla, 40.3 (2008) 386-393 (p.386). 22. Johannes BrĂ¸nsted, T he Vikings (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1965), p.124. 23. Else Rosedahl, Viking Age Denmark (L ondon: British Museum Publications, 1982), p. 19. 24. Martina Sprague, Norse Warfare: T he Unconventional Battle Strategies of the Ancient Vikings (New York: Hippocrene Books I nc, 2007), p.80. 25. Marina Sprague, p.311. 26. Eirc Oxenstierna, p. 53. 27. Holger Arbman, p. 50. 28. Alfred P. Smyth, Scandinavian Kings in the British I sles 850-880 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1977), p.182. 29. D.J.V. Fisher, T he Anglo-Saxon Age c.400-1042 (Harlow: L ongman, 1973), p. 215. 30. James I ngram, T he Anglo-Saxon Chronicle: A History of England from Roman T imes to the Norman Conquest (Florida: Red and Black Publishing, 2009), p.52. 31. D.J.V. Fisher, p. 216. 32. Bernhard Walter Scholz & Barbara Rogers, ?T he Royal Frankish Annals? in Carolingian Chronicle: Royal Frankish Annals and Nithards Histories (Michigan: University of Michigan Press, 1972), p. 108. 33. Peter Brent, T he Viking Saga (L ondon: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1975), p.34. 34. Holger Arbman, p.79. 35. Peter Brent, p. 34.
An assessment on whether the Vichy Regime achieved the aims of the National Revolution. By Stuart Booker ABOUT THE AUTHOR Stuart?s main area of academic interest lies in modern history, focusing particularly on social, cultural and political history. Specific topics include modern Welsh history, inter-war Britain and France, France under occupation and the rise of internationalism during the inter-war period; in particular the role of the L eague of Nations. At undergraduate level, his dissertation project was entitled T he L eague of Nations Union and Education in Britain. Combining his interests in internationalism and Wales, he plans to complete his Master's dissertation on Welsh attitudes to internationalism and the role of L eague of Nations in Wales during the inter-war period. Following graduation, he hopes to pursue a PhD in history.
?T his possibility of doing something new thrills men of every walk of life?, declared Foreign Minister of Vichy, Paul Baudouin, in July 1940.1 I mplemented from the start of the Vichy regime in 1940, the National Revolution was the programme introduced to renovate France according to Vichy policy and rebuild France after what some considered a humiliating defeat. T he National Revolution was an idea imposed by Vichy: it was not imposed or directly influenced by German occupation.2 However, the aims of the National Revolution are difficult to define. Historian Julian Jackson notes the problem with defining the National Revolution is that people had different ideas about it.3 Uncertainty about the National Revolution is typical of the situation experienced in France. Richard Vinen has highlighted that in France between 1940 and 1944 nothing seemed clear as few people had access to reliable information about the intentions of the Vichy government.4 Pierre L aval, Prime Minister for two years of the Vichy regime, expressed at his trial in 1945: ?I never knew what the National Revolution was, it was never defined, and it was an expression that personally I never
used?.5 Furthermore, L eader Marshall Philippe Pétain disliked the term, he instead preferred to talk of ?redressement?or ?rénovation?.6 Despite the complexities surrounding the National Revolution, debate and policies surrounded the area of education and youth policy. A poster promoting the National Revolution shows that one of the four pillars that were to be the foundation of the ?New France? was the ?ÉCOL E? (School).7 W.D. Halls notes how the National Revolution sought to mobilise the energies of young people, requiring from them a ?moral reformation?, a sense of civic duty and patriotism.8 John Sweets considers Vichy?s policies towards young people to have helped the nation rebound from disaster through the efforts of a new generation, unblemished by the faults of the past and brought up under the influence of a new morality.9 However, unclear aims existed in the area of education and youth policy: instability of education ministers occurred in Vichy, as there were six appointed in a four-year period.10
Miranda Pollard argues that between 1940 and 1944 there was no education revolution during the Vichy years.11 T he interchangeable nature and lack of guidelines surrounding what the aims of the National Revolution were, makes a complicated analysis. Although there were some short-term victories for advocators of the National Revolution, the interchangeable nature, failure to define what the National Revolution meant and the wider context of the war resulted in no National Revolution occurring in education and youth policy. T his essay will explore the attitudes towards physical recreation, religious education in schools and youth groups. Finally it will argue that regardless of how National Revolution was interpreted, the wider context of the war and occupation did not appeal to young people, thus resources and attitudes towards implementing the ideas of the National Revolution changed and diminished.
Propaganda poster, 1940. Source from Counter-currents Publishing. Advocators of the National Revolution sought the implementation of physical recreation to promote the regeneration of youth. Notably, this dominated at the start of Vichy. However these policies were not new to France. During the inter-war period, some members of society had concerns that degeneration of France was occurring. I n 1936, the first undersecretary for sports, leisure and physical cultural was established in France to promote a healthy
lifestyle. Halls considers these a continuation of those began by the Popular Front.12 Minister of Sport for a two year period, Jean Borotra, stated in 1970 that ?ideology never really played any part in our activities and that is normal because sport is and must remain essentially apolitical activity?.13 Aims of a National Revolution in the area of physical recreation are difficult to define. I nstead, investigation must centre on how successful Vichy was in promoting physical recreation. Physical Education in schools was amended. Borotra created a National Sporting Certificate; nine hours of ?general education? were introduced to the school curriculum.14 Borotra was an influential figure in promoting sporting improvements, as a successful tennis champion he was respected amongst the French sporting elite. He obtained a massive credit of 1,900 million francs from Vichy, resulting in his demands for facilities such as playing fields, swimming pools, and sports centres to be constructed in every commune.15 Between 1940 and 1941, the athletics federation increased its membership from 90,365 to 208,425.16 However, the implementation of physical recreation programmes under the National Revolution were short lived and therefore a failure. Chronologically as the occupation progressed, improving recreation decreased in priorities. Money was required in other elements of society; Vichy could not afford the ambitious physical, moral, and sporting reforms of which it dreamed.17 Basic elements of survival were more important than physical recreation. October 1941 saw hours towards the education of sports reduced due to the ?dangers that the current restrictions pose to young people?.18 Nine hours of physical activity became three due to under-nourishment, which made physical activity undesirable as most children lacked appropriate footwear and clothes.19 L iving conditions were too precarious to generate much enthusiasm for the strenuous pastime because equipment and qualified teachers were not available.20 Sport as an instrument of reinstating the regeneration of youth under the National Revolution was a failure. T he concept of using sport as a way of improving
the morals of society was something members of Vichy society found difficult to accept. Moreover, religious education in schools is an area that advocators of the National Revolution contributed. As previously mentioned, there were six Ministers of Education in four years, thus emphasising the unstable characteristics of the education system. Changes under the National Revolution depended on who was Minister of Education and at what time. Minister of Education, Jacques Chevalier took it upon himself to reinstate religious education into schools in November 1940. ?Duties to God? were reinserted into the primary school syllabus.21 On 6 January 1941, Chevalier made religious instruction an optional subject on the state school timetable.22 Priests could enter state school for the first time since the 1880s. To go further than the previous regime of the T hird Republic, implies a radical revolution of education. His seventy-two days as Education Minister was a high point of Catholic influence in education.23 However this was short-lived. Upon the appointment of Jérôme Carcopino as Minister of Education in February 1941, the status of religion was downgraded but not removed. I n an attempt to please all sides and not irradiate Chevalier?s changes, one-and-a-half hours a week were allocated on the school timetable for religious instruction if so desired.24 Religion did not lose out completely in the National Revolution: there were some small moral victories. W hen Prime Minister from February 1941 to April 1942, François Darlan, heard crucifixes were erect in schools he ordered the measure to be forbid. However, he was compelled to back down and accept the practice where it conformed to local traditions.25
an attempt to replace conscription with civil service where individuals were exposed to what Vichy deemed as ?the right sorts of moral influence?.27 Originally, the Chantiers consisted of young conscripts, many of whom had been called to the colours only a few days before the Armistice in 1940.28 By January 1941, the Chantiers had become a form of national service.29 All 22 year olds had to carry out six months of civic training in the Chantiers, with the intention to instil moral values in the young.30 An estimated 384,000 passed through the Chantiers during the occupation.31 I t has been noted how the Baden-Powell scouting spirit was very much evident in the Compagnons and in the Chantiers.32 On the surface, both groups appeared to be influential in enabling the moral regeneration of the youth. Great efforts were made to interest youngsters in cultural activities such as singing, popular art, and drama, although there was a strong emphasis on physical fitness.33 I t had always been the intention of Joseph de la Porte du T heil, founder of the Chantiers, that the Chantiers would help to restore national pride and self-esteem after the military defeat of June 1940.34 Between October 1940 and January 1941, the Compagnons received the enormous sum of 19 million francs in subsidies.35 Vichy considered these groups highly in their quest to enforce a National Revolution towards youth. Pétain told the Compagnons that they were to be the ?avant-garde of the National Revolution?.36 From assessing the type of activities towards youth policy here, it can certainly be stated that the National Revolution in this format was a success.
Vichy?s policy towards youth and moral regeneration of the French youth resulted in youth organizations to be set up. T wo groups were established. T he Compagnons de France (Compagnons) were a voluntary organization who recruited their members from the uprooted and the unemployed, setting them to work in the general field of reconstruction.26 T he second was the Chantiers de la jeunesse (Chantiers). T his was Compagnons de France,1940. Sourced from Getty I mages.
However, further investigation surrounding membership requires evaluation. Debate exists in the historiography that argues the youth movements were created to save young people from being controlled by Germany. R. Hervet has argued that the Chantiers saved young people from German designs.37 Arguably, this can be attached towards the Compagnons too. Paxton considers the Compagnons intended to save young Frenchmen not only from the risks of unemployment but also from the viruses of dissidence.38 To shelter these men in youth movements might have been to improve their morals and outlooks, however it is more like that is was to shelter them from German influence. As the war progressed, Germany imposed the Service du T ravail Obligatoire (ST O) of which required members of Vichy, and in a wider context France, to be sent to Germany to work as labourers. At any one time there was between ninety thousand and one hundred thousand men completing their period of service in the Chantiers.39 Having these numbers doing civilian service in France away from Germany would protect them, using the National Revolution as a buffer. Towards the end of the Vichy government, Germany were sceptical of the youth movements imposed by Vichy. T he Chantiers were considered by Germany as a breeding ground for Resisters; Du T heil saw his organisation progressively undermined. I n January 1944, Du T heil was summoned, arrested and deported to Germany.40
life.42 Most people in France considered short term survival the most important aspect before being liberated. Furthermore, Jackson argues the majority of French people were affected more by the consequences of war, defeat and occupation than by any specific Vichy policy.43
Finally, the aims of the National Revolution towards youth policy and education requires discussion in context of the war. T he Vichy regime encountered mixed opinions. As the war and occupation progressed, Vichy received increased criticism. Although French individuals formed the Vichy regime, France was under German occupation. France was defeated by Germany in 1940; many in France wanted liberation. Very few French citizens wanted the kind of New Order proposed to them by Vichy.41 Vinen notes that failure was rooted in the circumstances of the war. L ong-term projects for the rebuilding of France only made sense when the regime itself seemed likely to have a long
Vichy did not achieve the aims of a National Revolution in education and youth policy, primarily as there was no concise definition of what the National Revolution meant. I ndividual changes might have been successful but they depended on who was in charge and at what point of the war. Sport and recreation improved in the immediate years of Vichy, however as the war progressed there were more pressing matters. Religious education depended upon who was in charge at what point of the war, although it is certain some benefits did come from it but no revolution occurred. Youth groups enabled individuals to feel an increased sense of moral
Young people became aware of the political system that was operating in Vichy. Pollard argues how there was huge discrepancy between Vichy?s vision and the lived reality of most young people in this period.44 Vichy failed to make young people conform to its ideals and values. Promiscuity was rife, and official figures for juvenile delinquency doubled between 1940 and 1942.45 Young people were aware and concerned about what was happening. Arrests and deportation of thousands of Jews provided the most brutal lesson about Vichy?s exclusionary vision for French youth.46 An intellectual living in France, Simone de Beauvoir, noted how it was strange how people vanished into the blue.47 I n reality, no measure imposed under the National Revolution could solve the problems and deal with the concerns of young people. T he absence of fathers as prisoners of war or deportees, undernourishment and the general climate of civil unrest, were all concerns of which Vichy realistically had little control over but concerned young people. T he threat of enlistment into the ST O increased after the Vichy occupation by Germany in 1942. I t undermined the enthusiasm of young people towards the Vichy regime.
improvement but it was not revolutionary; it was using the umbrella of the National Revolution as protection from German influences. Most significant was the context of the war. T he National Revolution could not succeed, as few French citizens wanted a Vichy regime and a divided France. Young people were concerned about the effects of the Vichy regime, even more when Germany imposed the ST O.
REFERENCES 1. Robert Paxton, Vichy France, Old Guard and New Order 1940-44 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2001), p. 136. 2. I bid., p. 142. 3. Julian Jackson, T he Dark Years, 1940-1944 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), p. 148. 4. Richard Vinen, France 1934-1970 (Basingstoke: McMillan), p. 35. 5. Richard Vinen, T he Unfree French: L ife Under the Occupation (L ondon: Penguin, 2007), p. 76. 6. Jackson, p. 149. 7. Centres de Propagande de la RĂŠvolution Nationale, ?RĂŠvolution Nationale? poster, France in Crisis Part T wo: 1940-1944, Seminar T wo Handout (17/ 02/ 2017). 8. W.D. Halls, Politics, Society and Christianity in Vichy France (Oxford: Berg Publishers, 1995), p. 269. 9. John F. Sweets, Choices in Vichy France (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1986), p. 42. 10. Vinen, France 1934- 1970, p. 33. 11. Miranda Pollard, Reign of Virtue: Mobilizing Gender in Vichy France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1998), p. 96. 12. W. D., Halls, T he Youth of Vichy France (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981), p. 187. 13. Pollard, p. 87. 14. Jackson, p. 338.
15. Halls, T he Youth of Vichy France, p. 195. 16. I bid., p. 202. 17. Pollard, p. 87. 18. I bid., p. 88. 19. Jackson, p. 339. 20. Halls, T he Youth of Vichy France, p. 202. 21. Jackson, p. 156. 22. Nicholas Atkin, ?Church and Teachers in Vichy France, 1940-1944?, French History, 4 (1990), 1-22 (p. 12). 23. Jackson, p. 156. 24. Atkin, pp. 13-14. 25. Jackson, p. 156. 26. James F. McMillan, T wentieth Century France: Politics and Society 1898-1991 (New York: Edward Arnold, 1992), p. 137. 27. I bid., p. 137. 28. Halls, T he Youth of Vichy France, p. 284. 29. Paxton, p. 164. 30. Jackson, p. 149. 31. Halls, Politics, Society and Christianity in Vichy France, p. 298. 32. Maurice L arkin, France Since the Popular Front: Government and People 1936-1986 (Oxford: Clarendon, 1988), p. 91. 33. Halls, T he Youth of Vichy France, p. 269. 34. Roger Austin, ?T he Chantiers de la Jeunesse in L anguedoc, 1940-44?, French Historical Studies, 13 (1983), 106-126 (p. 119). 35. Halls, T he Youth of Vichy France, p. 272. 36. Paxton, p. 161. 37. Austin, p. 106 38. Paxton, p. 162. 39. Austin, p. 108. 40. Halls, Politics, Society and Christianity in Vichy France, p. 298. 41. Sweets, p. 97. 42. Vinen, T he Unfree French, p. 75. 43. Vinen, France 1934-1970, p. 69. 44. Pollard, p. 71. 45. James McMillan, p. 137. 46. Pollard, p. 95. 47. I bid., p. 95.
To what extent did Nazi r acial hygiene violate the nor ms and values of scientific medicine? By Emily Adams ABOUT THE AUTHOR Emily is a final year history student at Swansea University. Her research interests typically fall within the sphere of modern history but she also dabbles in early modern history from time to time. She is currently writing her dissertation on the position of Jews in South and Mid Wales during the interwar years ? a topic she intends to explore further next year as part of a Master's degree.
Nazi racial hygiene did not violate the norms and values ? defined as accepted behavioural standards ? of scientific medicine within Nazi Germany. T his argument is justified with recourse to political ideology. T he norms and values violated were of liberal origin meaning the extent of the violation ended with the boundaries of liberalism, which did not encompass the T hird Reich. T he eradication of all remnants of liberalism within Germany and the construction of a far-right authoritarian dictatorship in their place meant norms and values were redefined. Behavioural standards were dictated by the FĂźhrer rather than liberal ideology. Following a brief overview of the historiography on Nazi medicine, the analysis is presented in two sections. T he first section focuses on the global eugenics movement, sterilisation, and positive eugenics ? including research and experimentation ? to reveal the normalcy of many aspects of Nazi racial hygiene. T hese topics demonstrate the Nazis working within the accepted ? liberalised ? norms and values of scientific medicine. T he second section acknowledges a violation of the liberal norms and values of scientific medicine but seeks to demonstrate that this violation was not applicable within Nazi Germany. T he process of centralisation and the notion of the FĂźhrer
Principle validate this argument. T he Nazis established complete control over society and used the FĂźhrer?s authority to realign objective science with the party?s prejudices. T he alliance between science and the state meant even the pursuit of mass murder did not appear as a violation of norms and values. T he final paragraph considers racial hygiene in the aftermath of the Nuremberg T rials ? this reinforces the contention that Nazi racial hygiene worked largely within the parameters of scientific medicine.
A pro-sterilisation poster from the August 1936 edition of a monthly magazine, Volk und Rasse, (People and Race.) T he image is captioned: 'Sterilisation is liberation, not punishment.' I t depicts three handicapped children and asks: 'W ho would want to be responsible for this?' I mage sourced from Calvin College: https:/ / calvin.edu/
T raditional historiography ? often produced in the immediate aftermath of World War T wo ? depicts Nazi racial hygiene as detached from science.1 T he Nazis? programme of ?applied biology? has been described as an anomaly and their policies considered a product of hatred rather than of true science. Kristie Macrakis notes how attempts to reconcile with the history of Nazi medicine started in the final decades of the twentieth-century.2 T his ushered in a new phase in the historiography of Nazi medicine, which sought to highlight the centrality of experts in the Nazi programme ? from developing a policy to implementing the Final Solution. T raditional historiography would argue that Nazi racial hygiene was an utter violation of the norms and values of scientific medicine. More recent historiography, on the other hand, challenges this conclusion. T his essay works within the remit of more recent historiography ? contending that Nazi racial hygiene did not violate the norms and values of scientific medicine within Nazi Germany. Nazi racial hygiene was an offshoot from a global eugenics movement.3 Eugenicists sought to address perceived social problems through scientific means.4 T his goal bears resemblance to Hitler?s claim that Nazism was politically applied biology.5 Racial hygienists were active before the Nazi seizure of power and many advocates worked within Germany?s leading institutes.6 I ndividuals such as Alfred Ploetz espoused theories of racial hygiene, which were validated by their academic prestige.7 Racial hygiene cut across the political spectrum.8 Proponents believed it was progressive and scientific rather than a violation of norms and values.9 Fears of national decline created demand for the restoration of the survival of the fittest principle and an end to welfarism.10 Sterilisation legislation was one outcome of such demands. W hile the Nazis took the eugenicist vision to new extremes ? adopting overtly racist motivations ? the logic was derived from the wider movement.11 T he logical foundations of Nazi racial hygiene were in line with the contemporary norms and values of scientific medicine.12 Even nonracist
60 eugenicists were unable to challenge much of the Nazi programme due to it reflecting many of their own goals.13 T he sterilisation law provides an example of the Nazi regime enforcing a long-term goal of eugenicists, which did not violate the established norms and values.14 T he L aw for the Prevention of Hereditarily Diseased Offspring was not detached from the international context. T his law did not target a specific social group.15 I t was based on the notion of heredity ? a legitimate scientific concept ? and similar eugenic policies were pursued around the world.16 America presents a particularly potent example due to the fact its sterilisation laws predated the German legislation and that pre-war levels of sterilisation continued until 1953.17 T he sterilisation laws of some states were not repealed until the closing decades of the 18 twentieth-century. T he continued use of sterilisation for those deemed mentally deficient in America indicates that Germany?s sterilisation law did not violate the liberal norms and values of scientific medicine. I t has been suggested that Germany?s sterilisation laws were modelled on their American counterpart.19 T his point is seemingly solidified by the admiration ? or perhaps thinly cloaked envy ? of the German policy found within the American eugenic movement, which claimed its work had laid the foundations for the German legislation.20 W hile America cannot be held accountable for Germany?s sterilisation policy, the comparison reinforces the origins of Nazi racial hygiene within the wider eugenic movement.21 T here was no clear violation at this point. Positive eugenics offers another feature of Nazi racial hygiene that depicts a lack of violation. Historians focus mainly on the negative elements of Nazi racial hygiene. However, the policy of targeting those deemed unfit developed in tandem with the pursuit of a pure Aryan nation. W hile admiration of the Nordic race predates the Nazis? rise to power, efforts to establish a healthy population in this image led to the launch of a series of public health campaigns, many of which would be considered valid today.22 One example is the anti-tobacco
campaign, noted in the work of Robert Proctor.23 Proctor reveals how the pursuit of a healthy population ? a facet of Nazi racial hygiene ? led to pioneering cancer research.24 T he stigmatisation of Nazi racial hygiene as a violation of the norms and values of scientific medicine meant the validity of Nazi medicine in its entirety was nullified.25 Proctor challenges this decision by drawing a comparison between the research produced at the Anti-Tobacco I nstitute at Jena and the research of Sir Richard Doll, which reveals significant overlap. W hile the latter was knighted for his research into cancer, the former has been eradicated from memory.26 T his presents a consequence of and a challenge to the notion of violation. T he similarities in the research indicate that the subscribers to Nazi racial hygiene were working within the boundaries of scientific medicine ? the same conclusion can be reached when analysing experimentation. Experiments present another core element of Nazi racial hygiene. Many experiments were conducted with the aim of strengthening the German people.27 T he validity of these experiments is a matter of historiographical and ethical debate.28 I t is essential to avoid presentism when deliberating whether such experiments violated the norms and values of scientific medicine. Prior to the Nuremberg Code, there was no universal notion of informed consent ? a point reinforced by Howard Ball?s observation that the Allied powers failed to give the concept of universal rights of the individual a solid legal basis in the aftermath of the First World War.29 With specific reference to the hypothermia experiments conducted at Dachau, Robert L . Berger upholds the traditional historiographical perspective arguing that the experiments were intrinsically unscientific and demanding all results should be disregarded.30 Conversely, Volker Roelcke reveals that parts of the Dachau experiments were continued in America after the war and that the results were published in cooperation with some of the researchers who had been present at the original experiments.31 T he
61 continuation rather than the condemnation of these experiments suggests a lack of violation. T he outcomes of such experiments were readily presented at conferences and published as journal articles. Rather than being shrouded in secrecy they were open to peer-review.32 T he methods used were not frequently challenged.33 T his indicates that the norms and values of scientific medicine were not violated during the experiments. T he concentration camps negated all legal and moral considerations.34 Researchers were presented with opportunities that had never materialised before.35 Medically trained individuals set about conducting potentially fatal experiments and readily accepted parts of the deceased to investigate at Germany?s leading institutes.36 T he defence lawyers at the Nuremberg T rials drew attention to experiments involving prisoners that had been conducted around the world.37 T his implies that the Nazi doctors experimenting in the name of racial hygiene were complying with accepted standards of behaviour. Hugh Murray urges the reader to acknowledge that cruelty does not nullify scientific value.38 Nevertheless, those involved in the experiments were accused of violating the established norms and values of scientific medicine by the I nternational Military T ribunal. T he subsequent paragraphs seek to highlight why the same conclusion cannot be reached when analysing racial hygiene in Nazi Germany. T he Nazi Party transformed eugenics from a programme for world betterment into one which justified mass murder. T his transformation marked the point that Nazi racial hygiene violated the liberal norms and values considered central to scientific medicine in the West. However, this essay seeks to challenge the contention of Ruth Macklin that there was a universal set of principles that prevailed during the T hird Reich.39 Arguing instead that there was no violation of the norms and values of scientific medicine within Nazi Germany. T he process of centralisation and the concept of the FĂźhrer Principle are central to justifying this contention. Centralisation meant
that the Party controlled all forms of association, including the German Eugenics Society.40 T his resulted in membership only being open to Germans of Aryan descent.41 T he Nazis removed all oppositional forces.42 Hugh Murray draws attention to the Association of Socialist Physicians whose attempts to challenge Nazi racial hygiene evaporated when its members had to flee persecution.43 Centralisation meant all medical scientists were subject to the same worldview and thus the same set of norms and values, as dictated by the Führer. I t is essential to consider the Führer Principle.44 W hile the events that unfolded are deplorable by present standards, the context within which they developed must be understood. Norms and values were dictated by Hitler and reflected the vision of the Nazi Party.45 T here was a conscious effort to eradicate all elements of liberalism in Germany.46 Medical choices were not a matter of individual interest; the nation came first.47 Calls for welfarism were repudiated. Healthcare transformed to become health-leadership.48 Scientific medicine was closely allied ? yet subordinate to ? the Nazi state.49 Medical training was constructed around Nazi principles.50 T he effects of this are evident in the testimony of Dr Ella L ingens.51 L ingens encountered a Nazi doctor who believed exterminating the Jews ? labelled as a festering appendix ? was a fulfilment of his Hippocratic Oath. To ensure the health of the nation, he was removing the Jewish presence.52 T here was a realignment of the norms and values of scientific medicine ? they now reflected the prejudices and racist attitudes of the party.53 T he treatment of the Jews provides a stark example of the Führer principle. W hile many groups who were deemed racially unfit were targeted ? including gypsies and homosexuals Hitler had a personal, deep-seated hatred of the Jewish population, which culminated in a relentless campaign to eliminate their presence in Germany.54 T he Führer?s conviction that efforts to create the Aryan race were fruitless until the
62 Jewish population had been removed was reflected in party policy and translated using the logic of racial hygiene.55 Anti-Semitism was underpinned with recourse to biological differences.56 T his was biology as defined by Hitler.57 T he established norms and values of scientific medicine had been overturned. Events that appeared as a violation on the world stage did not appear as such within Germany. Efforts to destroy an entire people were the norm within Nazi Germany. Scientific medicine had been co-opted and redefined as the vehicle that would create an Aryan nation.58 T here was no violation because the actions of medical scientists were merely a fulfilment of the Führer?s vision. T he continued career of those who had endorsed racial hygiene and the echoes of eugenics heard today attest to a lack a severe violation. Many of those who assisted in the development and implementation of Nazi racial hygiene continued with their careers in the aftermath of the war.59 T his undermines the depiction of the perpetrators as otherworldly and detached from science. Hartmut Hanauske-Abel argues that the physicians who aided the Nazis efforts to enact the Final Solution are paralleled by the physicians of today, who enable the nuclear policies of their states.60 T he relationship between science and the state has continued. I ts outcomes are just as ? if not more ? dangerous than the previous collaboration between the Nazi state and medical scientists. Moreover, continued debates surrounding euthanasia and concerns about human genetics reveal how Nazi racial hygiene did not mark the end of this branch of scientific medicine. T his also bolsters the notion that many features of Nazi racial hygiene observed the established norms and values. Michael Burleigh notes how China has active eugenic policies, yet they have continued unchallenged by the West.61 I f the Nazi programme centred on racial hygiene was detached from scientific medicine ? a complete violation of its norms and values ? how are elements of it still active in the world today?
I n conclusion, this essay has argued that Nazi racial hygiene did not violate the norms and values of scientific medicine within Germany. T his argument has been delivered through differentiating between liberal and Nazi norms and values. T he first section of the analysis revealed that racial hygiene?s origins within the global eugenics movement, its sterilisation laws, and positive eugenics policies were all within the remit of scientific medicine?s liberal norms and values. T he second section utilised the concepts of centralisation and the FĂźhrer Principle to explain how the policy of mass murder did not violate the norms and values of scientific medicine ? as defined by the Nazis. T he absence of liberalism within Germany meant the extent of the violation ended at the start of the nation?s borders. L ooking forward beyond the Nuremberg T rials to the present-day tempers accusations of violation. T he continued echoes of eugenics and persistent interest in genetics reaffirm the scientific underpinnings of Nazi racial hygiene and can be instituted to challenge its traditional depiction as the antithesis of modern science.
REFERENCES 1. Hugh Murray, ?Review: Nazi Science?, Polity, 22.3 (1990), 545-556 (p. 553). 2. Kristie Macrakis, ?Coming to Terms with Medicine and Eugenics in Germany: An Essay Review?, Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences, 46.1 (1991), 98-109 (pp. 97-98). 3. Murray, p. 545. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, ?Science as Salvation: Weimar Eugenics, 1919-1933?, Holocaust Encyclopaedia 4. Murray, p. 547. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, ?Science as Salvation: Weimar Eugenics, 1919-1933?, Holocaust Encyclopaedia 5.
Murray, p. 547. United States Holocaust
1920s British eugenics poster, Wellcome L ibrary, L ondon
Memorial Museum, ?T he Biological State: Nazi Racial Hygiene, 1933-1939?, Holocaust Encyclopaedia 6. William E. Seidelman, ?Pathology of Memory: German Medical Science and the Crimes of the T hird Reich?, in Medicine and Medical Ethics in Nazi Germany: Origins, Practices, Legacies, ed. by Francis R. Nicosia and Jonathan Huener (New York; L ondon: Berghahn Books, 2002), pp. 93-111 (p. 105). 7. Murray, p. 552. Weindling, p. 501. 8. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, ?Science as Salvation: Weimar Eugenics, 1919-1933?, Holocaust Encyclopaedia 9. Michael Burleigh, Ethics and extermination: Reflections on Nazi genocide (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1997), p. 157.
24. Proctor, p. 41, p. 42.
10. Weindling, p. 493.
25. Proctor, p. 41.
11. Weiss, p. 49. Burleigh, p. 156. Weindling, p. 489, p. 524.
26. Proctor, p. 51.
13. Weiss, p. 43.
27. Volker Roelcke, ?Nazi medicine and research on human beings?, The Lancet, 364 (2004), 6-7 (p. 6).
14. Murray, p. 552. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, ?T he Biological State: Nazi Racial Hygiene, 1933-1939?, Holocaust Encyclopaedia
28. Macrakis, p. 98. Robert L . Berger, ?Nazi Science - T he Dachau Hypothermia Experiments?, The New England Journal of Medicine, 332.20 (1990), 1435-1440 (p. 1435). Roelcke, p. 6.
15. Weindling, p. 530.
29. Roelcke, p. 6. Howard Ball, Prosecuting War Crimes and Genocide: The Twentieth-Century Experience (Kansas: University of Kansas, 1999), p. 35.
12. Weiss, p. 47.
16. Richard Evans, ?How Hitler perverted the course of science?, The Telegraph, 1 December 2008 < http:/ / www.telegraph.co.uk/ news/ science/ science-news/ 3540339/ How-Hitler-pervertedthe-course-of-science.html> [ accessed 08-04-2017] . 17. Klautke, p. 36. 18. Bachrach, p. 419. 19. Kopp, Marie E., ?L egal and Medical Aspects of Eugenic Sterilisation in Germany?, American Sociological Review, 1.5 (1936), 761-770 (p. 763). 20. Klautke, p. 26 21. Klautke, p. 25. 22. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, ?T he Biological State: Nazi Racial Hygiene, 1933-1939?, Holocaust Encyclopaedia < https:/ / www.ushmm.org/ wlc/ en/ article.php?ModuleI d= 10007057> [ accessed 08-04-2017] . Klautke, p. 26. Proctor, p. 55. 23. Robert N. Proctor, ?T he Nazi Campaign against Tobacco: Science in a Totalitarian State?, in Medicine and Medical Ethics in Nazi Germany: Origins, Practices, Legacies, ed. by Francis R. Nicosia and Jonathan Huener (New York; L ondon: Berghahn Books, 2002), pp. 40-58.
30. Berger, pp. 1439-1440. 31. Roelcke, p. 7. 32. Richard Evans, ?How Hitler perverted the course of science?, The Telegraph, 1 December 2008 < http:/ / www.telegraph.co.uk/ news/ science/ science-news/ 3540339/ How-Hitler-pervertedthe-course-of-science.html> [ accessed 08-04-2017] . 33. Richard Evans, ?How Hitler perverted the course of science?< http:/ / www.telegraph.co.uk/ news/ science/ science-news/ 3540339/ How-Hitler-pervertedthe-course-of-science.html> [ accessed 08-04-2017] . 34. Roelcke, p. 6, p. 7. 35. Science and The Swastika: The Deadly Experiment (Channel 4, 2001). 36. Weiss, p. 49. 37. Michael A. Grodin, Medical Ethics in the Shadow of the Holocaust: The Nazi Doctors, Racial Hygiene, Murder and Genocide, online video recording, YouT ube, 27 July 2012 < https:/ / www.youtube.com/ watch?v
= 4a7Jg8I NJT U> [ accessed 12-04-2017] .
57. Weindling, p. 493.
38. Murray, p. 550.
58. Weindling, p. 489, p.491, p. 493.
39. Michael A. Grodin, ?T he Nuremberg Code and Medical Research?, The Hastings Centre Report, 20.3 (1990), 4 (p.4).
41. Weiss, p. 42.
59. United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, ?Final Solutions: Murderous Racial Hygiene, 1939-1945?, Holocaust Encyclopaedia < https:/ / www.ushmm.org/ wlc/ en/ article.php? ModuleI d= 10007064> [ accessed 08-04-2017] . Bachrach, p. 419.
42. Weindling, p. 505.
60. Macrakis, p. 98.
43. Murray, p. 551.
61. Burleigh, ?T he L egacy of Nazi Medicine in Context?, p. 114.
40. Weiss, p. 41.
44. Weiss, p. 41. 45. Burleigh, ?T he L egacy of Nazi Medicine in Context?, p. 119. 46. Burleigh, ?T he L egacy of Nazi Medicine in Context?, p. 119. Weindling, p. 490, p. 499. 47. Murray, p. 548. Weindling, p. 518. 48. Murray, p. 547. 49. Weindling, p. 496. 50. Science and the Swastika: Hitler?s Biological Soldiers (Channel 4, 2001). 51. Science and The Swastika: The Deadly Experiment (Channel 4, 2001). 52. Science and The Swastika: The Deadly Experiment (Channel 4, 2001). Murray, p. 554. 53. Macrakis, p. 100. Benno MĂźller-Hill, ?T he I dea of the Final Solution and the Role of Experts?, in The Final Solution: Origins and implementation, ed. by David Cesarani (L ondon; New York: Routledge, 1994), pp. 62-70 (pp. 68-69). 54. Burleigh, p. 158. Murray, p. 549. Henry Friedlander, ?Euthanasia and the Final Solution?, in The Final Solution: Origins and implementation, ed. by David Cesarani (L ondon; New York: Routledge, 1994), pp. 51-61 (p. 151). 55. Murray, p. 549. 56. Weindling, p. 496.
H ow the Acts of Union and the Refor mation enabled T udor monar chs to r e-shape Wales. By Keith Roberts
ABOUT THE AUTHOR Keith Roberts is a retired Detective I nspector who specialised in homicide and serious crime investigations. He completed his degree in History via the Department of Adult Continuing Education (DACE), graduating in 2017 with a First. He is currently undertaking a part-time MA in Modern History at Swansea University and working part-time in Residential Services as a Residence L ife Assistant, helping to enhance the student experience in the University residences. Keith welcomes you to follow him on T witter: @akroberts7
I n offering a critical analysis of the consequences for Wales caused by 118 years of T udor rule, this essay will attempt to chart a course that acknowledges both the liberal, progressive viewpoint and the nationalist perspective. T he assessment will be made not only in the context of the T udor dynasty, but will also seek to comment on outcomes emanating specifically from the Reformation and the Acts of Union (1536-43), and the extent to which Wales was changed by ?external? events. W hilst it might be said that the T udors were responsible for freeing Wales from the shackles of papal domination and medieval servitude by setting it on the path of enlightenment and progress, another interpretation is that the T udor dynasty snuffed out the last vestiges of independence, bringing an end to any form of cultural autonomy whilst cynically luring an increasingly ?A nglicised?Welsh ruling class into centuries of subservience. W hat is clear is that the Acts of Union and the Reformation both played significant roles in the societal evolution that undoubtedly took place. T his essay will contend that perhaps a more realistic analysis is that both were crucial elements of a poorly conceived and inconsistent process of change that has ultimately succeeded in both empowering and emasculating Wales, the most recent example arguably being the creation of the ?Senedd? and the controversy around Devolution. I n seeking the support vital to his success at Bosworth, Henry V I I wrote to his kinsman John ap Maredudd, promising to restore the ?principality of Wales and the people of the same to their dearest liberties, delivering them of such miserable servitude as they have previously stood in?.1 Jenkins asserts that under the T udors, the Arthurian legend was employed as a polemical weapon, with its goal being the unity of the whole realm rather than Welsh separatism and suggests that ?in this view, the T udor coup of 1485 marked the Welsh absorption of England, rather than the reverse?.2 T he bardic exhortations that
invoked Arthurian legend and successfully stirred public opinion to accept Henry as the ?mab darogan? (?son of prophecy?) arguably set expectations impossibly high. Williams claims that Henry V I I ?s primary aim for the rest of his reign was to secure his throne and provide an unchallenged succession.3 W hilst Henry V I I arguably laid the stepping stones towards ?modern Britain?, this essay suggests that there often lay a conflict between Henry?s commitment to the wider realm and satisfying the expectations of his kinsmen.
I n terms of achieving political stability, Henry V I I understood the advantages of a dynastic marriage, starting with his own. However, his efforts at securing the same for his sons arguably led to the crisis which triggered the Reformation. Needing to secure his authority, but without the security of a standing army, Henry set out to be ?Rex imperator?rather than ?primus inter pares? and to achieve this he needed the support of the territorial magnates. Williams observes that Henry promoted the gentry, granting them land, titles and political influence, but although there were some exceptions (such as Sir Rhys ap T homas), most of the Welsh gentry acted as deputies to existing magnates.4 Jones suggests that Henry?s innate conservatism was illustrated by him accepting the authority of the Marcher lords but imposing indentures aimed at stopping their abuses, whilst in the Principality he alleviated (rather than abolished) the hated penal laws of 1402 by issuing Charters of Emancipation. Both measures succeeded in forging an alliance between crown and gentry which helped forge modern Wales, but one might concede their unsuitability as firmer action was later necessary through the Acts of Union.5 Davies suggests that progress towards equality is illustrated by the fact that by 1496 more public offices in Wales were held by Welshmen, and that by 1500 more Welshmen were holding office in England.6 However, Williams asserts that whilst Henry?s application to the task of government throughout the realm was bound to benefit Wales to some extent, ?it was efficiency and profit, not patriotism and sentiment, which governed his choice of servants in Wales?.7 Henry V I I ?s cynical exploitation of Arthurian legend arguably left a Welsh legacy of more ?spin? than substance, and the comparisons with his heir and another second son of a much later ?Boston-I rish?patriarch are readily apparent. T his essay will suggest that after a promising beginning, the ?Camelot? of Henry V I I I was to prove as disappointing as that of the 35th President of the United States.
Henry V I I 's Coat of Arms, 1504, T he National Archives https:/ / www.nationalarchives.gov.uk/ utk/ wales/ popup/ coat.htm
Davies contends that under Henry V I I I , ?society was organised to promote the interests of the gentry, and those interests were consolidated further by means of measures passed by parliament in the 1530s. I n this decade, the link with Rome was broken and Wales was incorporated into England.?8 Davies claims that the two events were interdependent, and each emphasised the total sovereignty of the T udor state. T he power of the Marcher lords had been eroded but security concerns were prompted by an influx of 20,000 refugees from I reland, and with them, an increasing awareness of the vulnerability of isolated coasts to invasion. G.A. Williams claims that ?Wales itself, as its Marcher lordships collapsed into gangster-fiefs, had become a by-word for disorder?.9 T he appointment of Bishop Rowland L ee in 1534 as President of the Council provides valuable insight into the ?colonial? attitude of Henry V I I I and Cromwell towards Wales. I n terms of the Council, Jenkins claims that the position of President approached that of Viceroy. G.A Williams describes L ee as having a ?jovially racist contempt?, demonstrating that disposition as ?a hanging judge, cluttering the landscape with gallows.?10 Williams describes the extant penal laws as ?ferociously racist?, and that L ee?s imposition of modified Welsh surnames which required the deletion of their patronymic origins for Anglicised adulterations was similar to the way in which Jews acquired their names at
Ellis I sland.11 As the penal laws remained until 1624, one might accept that a modicum of racist contempt did infect policy decisions, that a modicum of racist contempt did infect policy decisions, leading to the Acts of Union and which has arguably coloured the subsequent responses of the British state to social unrest in Wales, as evidenced by its confrontations with the Chartists in 1839 or striking workers in Tonypandy and L lanelli in the years 1910/ 1911. I n addition to the need for law and order, Gwynfor Jones claims that Cromwell intended to impose the English legal and administrative structure on Wales through the Acts of Union.12 David Williams suggests they represented a complete unification and the prelude to unification with Scotland and I reland.13 However, Davies argues that this would be misleading as the 1536 process relating to Wales differed from that of 1707 and 1800 in that it was passed by an English parliament lacking any members from Wales.14 One might accept that this lack of collaboration was manifested in the disparity in parliamentary representation subsequently granted to Wales in 1543, as well as the failure to acknowledge linguistic and cultural boundaries, comparable to the ?colonialism? prevalent in attitudes towards an independence settlement for I ndia over four centuries later. Williams suggests that the policies promoted from 1536-43 were the culmination of a centuries-old drive to extend the authority of the King of England over Wales, and to that end, the whole structure of authority was to be ?uniform, coherent and royal?.15 Davies claims that the 1536 Act was drafted hastily, indicating indecision in terms of the ultimate aims, requiring a further Act in 1543 which strengthened the distinctiveness of Wales by creating precise arrangements for local government and further strengthening the gentry as JP?s, MP?s, landowners, lawyers, and businessmen.16 Gwynfor Jones asserts that Wales was given a distinct jurisdiction and identity (through the re-invigorated Council and judicial circuits) which arguably signals a failure to
69 achieve complete union.17 I n this context, one might consider the administrative function of the Council to be an embryonic Welsh Assembly and acknowledge a resonance with modern, but equally flawed, attempts at devolution with the Government of Wales Acts of 1998 and 2006. Despite references to ?sinister practices and customs? and a stipulation that public life be conducted in English, Davies observes that ?it is unlikely that the authorities were intent upon the demise of Welsh [ ? ] Cromwell?s aim was uniform administration, which any formal recognition of the Welsh language would have hindered?.18 T his essay suggests that the quest for uniformity overrode any other consideration, and that indifference rather than hostility characterised Cromwell?s view of the language. Moreover, one might accept that with the formal abolition of the Marcher lordships, the creation of a Welsh ruling class fluent in English became a T udor imperative. Davies asserts that although it would take two centuries, the ultimate consequence would divorce the Welsh ruling class from the language that had been its medium since the birth of the nation.19 Graham Jones describes this as ?a widening cleavage? and one might detect the roots of Welsh social and political strife from the late eighteenth century at this time.20 However, on a positive and lasting note, Gwynfor Jones suggests that the most important feature of ?union? was the alignment of the T udor state under the authority of the King, Privy Council and Parliament, the essential link between them being the English common law, a link that exists to this day.21
T roops camped near L lanelli in response to the Railway Strike, 1911 (I mage from Cardiff Central L ibrary. Sourced from: www.bbc.co.uk)
Davies asserts that Henry V I I I was not seeking to embrace the Protestant faith - ?he wanted revolution in authority, not religion?. T he Church owned Âź of the land in Wales and the ?Valor Ecclesiasticus? (1535) indicates that the monasteries were dissolved for their wealth. Henry V I I I was in full possession of their property by 1540 and hundreds of thousands of hectares were bought by the ascendant gentry. W hilst the supremacy of church and State necessitated greater ties of mutual benefit between the monarch and the gentry due to the over-riding need for political and social order, Davies contends that the gentry?s acquisition of the spiritual property compromised Welsh Anglicanism from the outset and might well have been a contributory factor in the rise of non-conformity in the eighteenth century.22 However, Jenkins claims that the Reformation benefitted government in England and Wales with the introduction of the parish as a unit of secular administration ? initially key in terms of the administration of the Elizabethan Poor L aws, and its importance stretched into the 20th century.23 Gwynfor Jones asserts that Elizabethan religious policy revolved around establishing royal supremacy on a Protestant basis and achieving reform whilst strengthening the nation?s defences. I n this context, Jones suggests that ?Welsh religious affairs were brought within the orbit of English politics and the promotion of the New Faith assumed a political dimension.?24 To that end, the 1559 Elizabethan Settlement through the Act of Supremacy and Act of Uniformity secured wider access to scriptures and royal control of the Church, subject to the authority of parliament. T he acknowledgement of Wales? unique position in terms of the difficulties posed by the language are evident in the legislation requiring translation of the Bible and Book of Common Prayer in 1563, the appearance of Salesbury?s translations in 1567 and of Morgan?s historic Bible in 1588. Graham Jones describes this as ?an event of crucial importance for the survival of the Welsh language as it made Welsh the language of public worship?.25 David Williams observes that the
counter-reformation succeeded in I reland but not in Wales due to the Welsh element to the services and asserts that by 1603 there were only 800 Catholics out of a population of 200,000 left in Wales.26 Roberts distinguishes the Welsh experience from that of I reland by suggesting that Catholicism in I reland protected separatism at the expense of the survival of the Gaelic language, and that without the vernacular scriptures Wales would have gone the same way. Roberts claims that the Welsh Bible produced a ?classical standard? that prevented the language from disintegrating into a series of regional dialects.27 Gwynfor Jones claims that the Reformation succeeded because of the lack of effective opposition and the influence of the gentry who were viewed as natural leaders in peasant communities.28 Jenkins claims that the elevation of the gentry or ?uchelwyr? (high ones) following the Reformation and the consolidation of their pre-eminence in the I ndustrial Revolution led to them being portrayed as cultural aliens, and argues that this became a powerful weapon in the L iberal and non-conformist polemics of the 19th century.29 I n conclusion, if one accepts Jenkins? assertion that in a country that lacked a flag, an army, an independent government or a capital, the most powerful sense of ?Welshness?was expressed through a linguistic and cultural patriotism.30 Notwithstanding the acquisition of modern symbols of nationhood such as a University, a Senedd and S4C, one might argue that Wales? place in the British state is still characterised by the possession of a unique cultural identity. To that end, this essay suggests that the position arguably remains as the Roman Catholic Saunders L ewis made clear in his 1962 BBC Radio speech ?Tynged Yr I aith? (?T he Future of the L anguage?) when he proclaimed that ?the future of the language is more important than self-government?.31 I n that context, one might readily accept that the Reformation has proven to be of greater significance to the ongoing development and future survival of the Welsh nation than the Acts of Union.
17. Jones, J. G. (1994) Early Modern Wales c.1525-1640, p. 85.
1. Williams, G. (2002) Renewal and Reformation Wales c.1415-1642, p. 217.
18. Davies, J. (2007) A History of Wales 2nd Edition, p. 229.
2. Jenkins, P. A. (1997) History of Modern Wales 1536-1990 2nd Edition, p. 68.
19. I bid p.229.
3. Williams, G. (2002) Renewal and Reformation Wales c.1415-1642, p. 233.
20. Jones, J. G. (2014) The History of Wales 3rd Edition, p. 58.
4. I bid, pp. 241-2.
21. Jones, J. G. (1994) Early Modern Wales c.1525-1640, p. 89.
5. Jones, G.E. (1995) Modern Wales: A Concise History 2nd Edition, p. 61.
22. Davies, J. (2007) A History of Wales 2nd Edition, pp. 220-3.
6. Davies, J. A History of Wales 2nd Edition (L ondon: Penguin 2007) pp. 214-5.
23. Jenkins, P. A. (1997) History of Modern Wales 1536-1990 2nd Edition, p. 82.
7. Williams, G. (2002) Renewal and Reformation Wales c.1415-1642, pp. 234-42.
24. Jones, J. G. (1994) Early Modern Wales c.1525-1640, p. 148.
8. Davies, J. (2007) A History of Wales 2nd Edition, p. 219.
25. Jones, J. G. (2014) The History of Wales 3rd Edition, p. 63.
9. Williams, G.A. W hen Was Wales? 2nd Edition (L ondon: Penguin 1985) p.118.
26. Williams, D. (1977) A history of Modern Wales, pp. 66-78.
10. Jenkins, P. A. (1997) History of Modern Wales 1536-1990 2nd Edition, p. 83.
27. Roberts, P. R. (1972) The Union with England and the I dentity of 'Anglican' Wales, p. 66.
11. Williams, G.A. (1985) W hen was Wales?, pp. 114-8. 12. Jones, J.G. Early Modern Wales c.1525-1640 (New York: St. Martin?s Press 1994) p.81. 13. Williams, D. A History of Modern Wales 2nd Edition (L ondon: John Murray 1977) p.33. 14. Davies, J. (2007) A History of Wales 2nd Edition, p. 226. 15. Williams, G.A. (1985) W hen was Wales?, p. 264. 16. Davies, J. (2007) A History of Wales 2nd Edition, p. 231.
28. Jones, J. G. (1994) Early Modern Wales c.1525-1640, pp. 134-42. 29. Jenkins, P. A. (1997) History of Modern Wales 1536-1990 2nd Edition, p. 40. 30. Jenkins, P. A. (1997) History of Modern Wales 1536-1990 2nd Edition, p. 66. 31. Morgan, K. O. (1987) Rebirth of a Nation, Wales 1880-1980, p. 383.
T he changing for tunes of women in Welsh society dur ing the T wentieth Centur y By Janet Davies ABOUT THE AUTHOR Janet Davies is a mature student studying through DACE (Department of Adult Continuing Education). After working in admin and customer service jobs, including eighteen years in the Canary I slands, she has since returned to Swansea. Alongside university studies, she volunteers for the Health Board and medical research, also attending council-funded L ifelong L earning courses.
"T he greatest change in Welsh society over the course of the 20th century was the enhanced role of women and the challenge this caused to traditional concepts of the family." 1 T he T wentieth Century brought changes for all women, but the women of Wales have a separate social history from those of the rest of the United Kingdom, owing to the circumstances of a distinctive Welsh culture, largely defined by non-conformity and a prevailing patriarchy within organisations that shaped local communities. T hese combined to promote a domestic ideology, with the Welsh ?Mam? as its archetypal image. Before the Great War of 1914-18 Welsh women conformed to the separate sphere doctrine which was adopted by Welsh cultural leaders but had been formulated by the English middle-classes in the previous century.2 Heavy industries dominated in Wales, offering dirty, dangerous work. During their decline, the new industries were reticent to cross the Bristol Channel, denying Welsh women the same access to paid employment which benefited women in comparable areas of England. New employers viewed the Welsh workforce as confrontational given their past struggles to improve pay and working conditions, and senior managers were reluctant to transfer to Wales citing poor housing
stock and limited educational opportunities for their children. Before the opening of the Severn Bridge in 1966, transport logistics were costly and time consuming. T he Westminster government would eventually incentivise new businesses to Wales. L eading by example, it situated government offices in Wales, offering administration posts for the rapidly expanding state services. I n 1900s industrial Wales, the woman?s role was defined by her home. I t was a continuous grind to maintain cleanliness in sub-standard housing, the pollution of heavy industry permeating throughout, clad incumbersome clothing and enduring an average of fifteen child-bearing years. I n contrast to England, the mortality rate was higher in young women than in men despite the dangers of men?s employment.3 Wales exported coal, copper and tin to the world and the middle-classes grew and prospered alongside. With this new social class came a generation of women who benefitted from the opportunity of social mobility, attending universities and entering into ?respectable? professions such as teaching. T hese women were
the suffrage campaigners of Wales. T he L iberal Party enjoyed popularity in Wales with its declared intentions of a fairer society, but that fairness did not extend to women. L ater, the rise to dominance of the L abour Party in Wales was aided with the shift of women?s support from the L iberals. David L loyd George was targeted; despite voicing support for women in public, he was believed to hold different private views. His upbringing in a non-conformist household offers some clues to how his views on women were formed. Meanwhile, working class women were no less active in campaigning but their projects centred on bettering home life. T he Women?s L abour L eague campaigned in 1912 for the installation of pit-baths, a dramatic improvement in daily living conditions.
"Women have a talent for listening. Women become par t of the conver sation, par t of the battle. We saw them gr owing, we saw them getting up and saying 'I am fr om South Wales and times ar e har d and it?s costing.' Power ful, power ful speeches. And 'we ar e not up her e to beg for food but to fight for a cause'?4
War in 1914 initially resulted in a re-enforcement of traditional roles for women. With the popular belief that ?it would all be over by Christmas?, women were not welcomed into the workforce. Nevertheless, women threw themselves into the war effort; local groups cultivated land, set up food markets, fund raised and made clothes for the troops. T his voluntary, highly organised spirit is repeated during other times of crisis such as the 1984-85 strike against pit closures. I n late 1914, government orders for clothing and ammunitions started to provide paid employment for women. 1916 brought conscription and women entered professions
73 previously closed to them. I nvariably they were paid less for the same work than the men they replaced. Just months before the end of hostilities in 1918, T he Representation of the People Act gave the vote to many women. T his was followed by the opening of Westminster to women members of parliament. I n 1919, the Sex Disqualification (Removal) Act opened male dominated professions to women and in 1923 the Divorce Reform Act allowed women to seek divorce on the same grounds as men. T hese reforms are generally attributed to the women?s war effort, but that viewpoint discards sixty years of militant campaigning. T hese changes were of scant daily consequence to the Welsh ?Mam? in her Valleys home, female emancipation being the privilege of a small group of affluent English women. A small post-war boom was soon followed by an economic downturn and it was considered unacceptable for women to work while men were unemployed. Wales suffered particularly with its dependence on heavy industry, while most of the English population were generally unaware of the extent of hardship suffered in Wales, having a more diverse economy to support them. During these bleak depression years, women not only continued with their community projects but joined their men folk on the streets to protest unemployment and support their claim for a living wage, cumulating in the Hunger March of 1934 from South Wales to L ondon. Having proved their usefulness in the previous war, the women?s services were included in the government?s plans in the months preceding the declaration of war in September of 1939. T he women?s auxiliary services were re-established, although not deployed immediately, and ordinance factories, under construction, would offer women relatively well paid but hazardous work. I n 1941, T he National Service Act (no.2) required all single women aged nineteen to thirty-one to register for work, although local employer?s traditional attitudes were still a barrier. Megan L loyd George criticised the government?s slow progress in deploying the female workforce during
a parliamentary debate in March of 1941. Welsh women with their long experience of poverty were adept at managing the food rations and they knew how to ?make do and mend? before it became official policy. After the recent depression years, the wartime diet was an improvement in many Welsh homes, as rationing brought equality in price and availability. Cultural differences were highlighted with the arrival of evacuees from major English cities. T he mothers that accompanied the children were shocked by the harsh conditions in sub-standard housing but impressed by the self sacrifice and warmth of the Welsh ?Mam?. T hese war years brought about a change in women?s sexual behaviour. Military service left many homes devoid of a male presence while camps of servicemen, British and overseas personnel, also separated from loved ones were being set up around the country. Workplaces were of mixed gender and women socialised in mixed company outside of their immediate circle for the first time. T he Ministry of L abour re-located many young girls away from their homes. Professor William Gruffydd of the University of Wales raised this concern in the House of Commons in 1943, although his primary concern was the diluting of Welsh communities.5 T he Minister, Ernest Bevin, responded with a figure of 1,455 girls relocated to England but the New Wales Union, (previously the Committee for the Defence of Culture Of Wales), believed the figure closer to 4,000.6 T hese years made a superficial scratch on the Welsh patriarchal society but demand for the restoration of the old social order would come quickly after the war?s end.
relinquish their jobs to the returning servicemen. T he women mindful of those desperate depression years did so, but with reluctance not resignation. T he Westminster government paid particular attention to Wales, recognising that because of its dependency on the heavy industries, a downturn of trade could quickly bring a return to hard times which inevitably would be accompanied by a surge in Nationalism. T he founding of the National Health Service and the rapidly expanding Welfare State, with many key offices situated in Wales, would bring paid employment to Welsh women on a scale previously unseen. T he government used Welsh women as bait to bring new factories to Wales. T hey made the case of an under used workforce, keen to gain financial independence and without experience; not set in working practices but open to a new way of manufacturing. To the private employers this translated as a cheap and pliable workforce and with decommissioned ammunition factories handed over to them, the trading estates soon spread around South Wales. Outside of wartime, paid employment had been practiced mainly by single women but now married women entered the workforce. DI Y family planning, the practice of ?being careful? was gaining acceptance, shortening the time women spent pregnant and raising small children, and hospital births were becoming the norm, all contributing to better women?s health. T he valley women manufactured appliances that many could not use in their own homes as the National Electricity Grid did not connect all homes in Wales until the early 1960s.
Fear of a repetition of the economic downturn and depression that had followed in the years after the First World War would initially curtail women?s new found independence, but perversely later provide opportunities to continue on that path. T he patriarchal bodies that still shaped local communities in Wales ? the church, unions, and local councils ? lost no time in informing women it was imperative that they Member of the W RV S, 1950s. I mage from https:/ / www.womensarchivewales.org/ en/ image-history
As with female emancipation in the 1920s, the swinging sixties would not impact women equally around the United Kingdom. T he contraceptive pill was made available to married women in 1961 but it was not until GPs began prescribing it in 1970 that it was available to most women on demand. Abortion was legalised in 1967 but as with obtaining contraception, a woman would have to explain her case to a local authoritarian figure, invariably a man, so for many Welsh women these options were not open to them. Education was still segregated at times, where the genders would learn what was deemed by local governing bodies to be most suitable; girls practised domestic sciences and the boys trained for a trade.
T he Hunger March, 1934 Sourced from: Getty I mages https:/ / www.gettyimages.co.uk/ license/ 79668367
T he 1970s saw the flowering of the women?s rights movements. T he 1968 Ford Dagenham strike is credited with bringing about T he Equal Pay Act of 1970, but it was actually a prerequisite for joining the European Economic Community, whose policies were more favourable towards women. T he Sex Discrimination Act followed in 1975 and T he Equal Opportunities Commission was set up to ensure compliance. I n Wales a further body was required under the umbrella of the EOC, Chwara Teg (fair play). T he
reluctance to comply is highlighted in the case of a construction skills course in Gwent to train women in basic DI Y skills so that they could provide a service to elderly and vulnerable people who would feel more at ease with a woman entering their home than an unknown tradesman. T he programme was approved, funded and set in place but met with such resistance at a local level from the people (men) charged with carrying it through that it was eventually abandoned.7 T he Women?s Sports Foundation was engaged with local councils regarding segregation practised in municipal sports facilities, yet peak periods being reserved for men?s clubs and associations.8 T he strike ridden years of the 1980s once again saw Welsh women supporting their men folk with practical and organisational skills, not least in the miners fight against pit closures. Behind the headlines of T he Peace Campaign at Greenham Common were Anne Pettit of L lanpumsaint who led the march to the site and Helen T homas, from Castellnewydd who lost her life under the wheels of a police vehicle. T his spirit and adeptness at campaigning can be attributed to the underuse of women?s skills in Wales. T he Welsh Assembly, established in 1999, has a superior participation of women compared to Westminster, but this is partly due to ?twining?, where adjacent constituencies are required to have one female representative, but that policy could be lost with a change of government. T he new technology-based industries should be a level playing field, but segregation of work exists with men, more likely to be trained in technology, dominating the hierarchy. Although they may be multi-national companies that subscribe to equality, local branches are often staffed by local managers and their selection when recruiting and training is apt to reflect their own values. External forces have prevailed in the changing role of women during the twentieth century but Welsh women have had to navigate circumstances unique to their local communities to achieve comparability with their English sisters.
REFERENCES 1. BBC History, Society in 20th century Wales (2016), http:/ / www.bbc.co.uk/ history/ topics/ society_20th_century_wales [ accessed 25/ 10/ 2016] 2. Deidre Beddoe, Out of the Shadows: A History of Women in Twentieth-Century Wales (Cardiff: University Of Wales Press, 2000) pp 12-13.
5. My Society ? T hey Work For You, Transferred Women, England and Wales; 3 Jun 1943: House of Commons Debates. https:/ / www.theyworkforyou.com / debates/ ?id= 1943-06-03a.331.6& s = transferred+ women+ england+ and+ wales + 1943# g331.8 [ accessed 20/ 11/ 2016]
3. Beddoe, p. 19.
6. Beddoe, p.116.
4. T yrone O?Sullivan, Wales Online. Women?s Role in the Miners Strike 25 years on (2013) http:/ / www.walesonline.co.uk/ lifestyle/ showbiz/ womens-role-miners-strike -25-2116379 [ accessed 10/ 11/ 2016]
7. Teresa Rees, Women and the Labour Market (L ondon: Routledge, 1992), pp. 64-67. 8. Women in Wales: A Documentary of our Recent History, Vol 1, ed. by L uana Dee and Katell Keineg (Cardiff: Womanwrite Press, 1987), pp. 10-13.
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