Monday 29 March 2010
Wednesday 24 March 2010
What frightened people in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries?
My latest little essay, put here like the others for posterity. Also, you'll see that END-Times religious nutters are nothing new.
I hope some of you, at least, enjoy!
What frightened people in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries?
In November 1572, a type 1 supernova, later known as SN1572, lit up the night sky. Nestling at the centre of the constellation Cassiopeia, the star formed a cross that hung over the heads of all those in northern Europe for 16 months. Received as an omen, an angel or possibly god himself, the vision struck fear into the hearts of virtually all who saw it. Recorded by influential astronomer Tycho Brahe, it may seem unusual that a man of science would suggest that the star predicted “a new condition in kingdoms, different from the earlier and likewise a different order of religious conditions and laws”, but at the time, such ideas were far from abnormal. The star was seen as evidence that Judgement Day was soon upon the world.
The 16th and 17th centuries in Europe were a time of upheaval rarely seen in history. Scientific discovery, climate change, economic hardship, disease, war, pestilence, religious divide; the turmoil struck fear into the hearts of all who lived through it as they waited for the horror of the ‘last days’, so clearly being signalled. As chaos enveloped them, Europeans tried to make sense of the world and in so doing, many turned to the supernatural. An investigation into the culture of fear in the 16th and 17th centuries, through the climate, new discoveries, economy, the reformation, disease, fire and the belief in supernatural intervention, will show that Europeans feared they were living in the biblical end times and that the apocalypse had begun.
In many ways, the 16th and 17th centuries were an age of profound discovery. In astronomy, Copernicus’ work De Revolutionibus orbium coelestium was posthumously published in 1543, placing the Sun at the centre of the solar system rather than the Earth. Backed up by Kepler in 1609, and finally confirmed by Galileo’s telescope in 1632, these ideas shook Catholicism to the very core. The decision of the inquisition to add Copernicus’ work to The Index Librorum Prohibitorum, and ban Galileo from teaching Copernican doctrine in 1616, culminating in his trial of 1633, are evidence of the radical nature of these ideas.
Many other great discoveries were being made in the era. In 1492, Christopher Columbus set foot on the shores of the Americas, opening up a previously new world to be explored and fought over for the next 2 centuries and beyond. Suddenly, the world had become a much bigger, scarier place. Science and philosophy leapt forward; Isaac Newton perfected Galileo’s observation of Gravity by publishing Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica on the 5th July 1687, in which he detailed his laws of motion and many other great works of science and philosophy tried to make sense of the frightening world around them, a world changing beyond recognition.
The climate and economy in Europe changed quite suddenly in the 16th and 17th centuries. In the early 16th Century, Northern and Western Europe enjoyed relatively warm conditions. 1498-1648 was, in general, a period of growing wealth and population. In this time, however, the extremes of climate led to crop failures and famine on average every four years, getting worse as the centuries progressed. In 1570, an abrupt change to the climate marked the beginning of a series of cool summers which continued getting wetter, hitting their worst between 1640 and 1660. This devastated food supplies, causing a rise in the price of wheat, which peaked in 1650, and reduced the standard of living of the general populous. The growth in population soon overtook the growth in the economy, making jobs harder to find, especially in England. Inevitably, long periods of famine and starvation ensued amongst the now greater numbers of poor; a starvation believed by many to be sent by God.
The Political and religious landscape of Europe changed in 16th and 17th century. The Catholic Church, so dominant in European religion, had long been teaching the notion of Purgatory, a halfway house between heaven and hell where unspent sins could be worked off after death. People were advised that generosity, in the building of bridges, charity and ultimately funding the church itself, would reduce your time in purgatory through the prayer of those who had benefitted from your generosity. Another step closer to salvation could be bought from clergy as ‘indulgence letters’, reducing your sins through the prayer of others in exchange for payment. This created a good income for the Roman Catholic Church; Christ’s grace was still the only way to heaven, but an indulgence letter could help you on your way.
On the 31st October 1517, Martin Luther pinned his 95 theses, criticising the position of Catholic teachings, to the church door in Wittenberg. Luther attacked the practices of the Catholic clergy, stating that “They preach only human doctrines who say that as soon as the money clinks into the money chest, the soul flies out of purgatory” and that “those who believe that they can be certain of their salvation because they have indulgence letters will be eternally damned, together with their teachers”. The revolution this sparked surprised even Luther, who at the time was more interested in arguing against Aristotelian teaching in defence of “our theology and that of Augustine”. Nevertheless, a revolution began.
The timing was an important factor in the spread of Luther’s ideas. Religious arguments leading to war had raged across Europe before, such as the investiture crisis of the mediaeval period, but in the 16th Century a new form of print capitalism, printing pamphlets and books in local languages, spread radical ideas quicker than had previously been possible. Luther’s theses were available to the whole of Germany in only 15 days, and subsequent texts made Martin Luther perhaps the first “best seller” in history. The reformation had begun; a schism between Catholicism and the new Protestantism, whose battle for supremacy was to help tear Europe apart.
The military belligerence of 16th and 17th century Europe was not outstripped until the 20th Century. The terrible threat of the Ottoman Empire encroaching on Europe’s borders and the fears of raids from Barbary pirates was exacerbated by vicious internal wars. Between 1480 and 1700, England went to war 29 times; France 34; Spain 36; and the Holy Roman Empire 25 times, most noticeably in the 80 years war, sparked by a Dutch reformist revolt. Like many of the wars in the period, the 80 years war was ostensibly about religion, Philip II stated that he would rather lose his life and lands a hundred times rather than rule over heathens, but other factors did play a part. An early proposer of international arbitration, Émeric Crucé, commented in 1623 that “wars are undertaken either for honour or profit, or for the reparation of some wrong...one could add religion except...this serves most often as a pretext”; as is so often the case, religion and the turmoil of the reformation was used as the pretext for war. The 30 years war that began in Germany, in which religion was, again, used as the pretext, ultimately involved the whole of Europe. The intermingling of Europe’s wars was the norm, the only real exceptions being the French religious wars and the English civil the war. The separate English reformation, followed by the counter-reformation tyranny of Queen Mary, created enough fear in the actions of Charles I to help start a civil war which led to puritan rule and the Kings trial and regicide; an act without precedent in Europe. No matter what the real reasons for the endless warfare in Europe, religion was the common reason given, perhaps to make the fighting more vicious; it did have that effect. Such war would have been another sure sign the last days had begun; it must have at times appeared that hell truly was upon the earth.
The apocalypse and the reformation are almost inseparable. It has been argued that Protestantism was defined by its relationship to the biblical ‘last days’, the struggle between the reformers and the enemies of the gospels was central to the protestant message. Describing the pope, indeed, the entire Catholic Church, as the Antichrist, alongside society’s abundant sin, the weakness of faith and the arrival of the chosen prophet who identified that antichrist, was a sure sign of that the ‘last days’ were happening. Other apocalyptic cults had existed prior to the reformation, but these groups were usually considered fringe movements, in the 16th and 17th centuries, however, the lines drawn between reformation and counter-reformation powers led to a common belief that Judgement Day would soon come. These great upheavals gave rise to biblical explanations for inexplicable events, and an inescapable fear of God’s wrath and the Devil’s power.
Into this pot of economic, political and religious uncertainty were added other ingredients; pestilence, fire and superstition. Diseases broke out repeatedly and swept across Europe. In 1506, Albrecht Dürer wrote from Venice “pray God that I may be protected...especially from the French Sickness...nearly everyone has it”, discussing the outbreak of a terrible form of sexually transmitted pox that spread like wildfire across continental Europe in the early 16th century. Possibly an early outbreak of the modern disease Syphilis, it is easy to see the link between what surgeon William Clowes referred to as the sin of “Filthy lust” and God’s punishment for that sin. Pox was not the only disease that devastated Europe in the 16th and 17th centuries. Siege Disease, or Typhus, sprang from the Spanish assault on Granada in 1489 and carried through to the battle grounds of the era. The “English Sweat” which struck Europe in the 16th century was a “Pestilence horrible indeed, before which no age could endure” according to Polydore Vergil, but most feared of all was the Plague. Terrifying plague outbreaks continued to occur throughout the 16th and 17th centuries. From 1522 to 1636, nine bouts of plague ravaged Europe, touching every European at least once in their lifetime. The plague was “the just anger of God” according to French royal surgeon, Ambroise Paré. God was the “beginning and cause of the second [natural] causes”, the plague “not to be attributed to these near and inferior causes or beginnings, as the Epicureans [Atheists]...commonly do.”
Witchcraft went beyond both natural ‘second causes’ and God’s wrath. Intentional plague spreading, occasionally seen as act of political terrorism, was most often attributed to witchcraft. Plague spreading by witches with the potential to threaten regimes was documented in judicial responses in the western Alps, and witches were also accused of attempting to destroy Geneva in June 1543, when two servant girls were caught attempting to spread the plague, so it is claimed, by ointment. Some witches were accused of causing fires. Fire, which is “always insatiable and unjust...respects neither churches nor royal palaces” according to Nicolas De LaMare, was common across Europe. From the bridge fires that destroyed two of Paris’ main crossings in 1621, to the Great Fire of London that all but levelled the English capital in 1666, fires were common, deadly and terrifying. The wars that engulfed Europe made the danger of fire more probable, as fire was used as a weapon of war with great effectiveness. Some fires, such as the great fire of London, were attributed directly to God’s wrath, a divine judgement on the “Sodom of the Restoration”. Others were blamed as the work of witches in league with the Devil, preparing for the apocalypse.
Works circulated confirming the presence of witches and stories linked important figures to the horrors of witchcraft. The “Witches of Warboys” were implicated in the Death of Lady Cromwell, posthumous grandmother of Oliver Cromwell. Stories of witches who turned themselves into werewolves, such as Peter Stompf, who admitted to killing 16 people in 1589 after becoming a witch, caused widespread panic in southern Germany. Great intellects sought to prove their existence, arguing against the few sceptical voices. Royal Society member Joseph Glanvill, in a response to Robert Hunt, suggested, “To deny them is to deny angels, or spirits, or resurrection of the body, or immortality of the soul”; to Glanvill, the existence of “witches and diabolical contracts, [was] most abundantly confirmed”.
Witches were real to most of the people in the 16th and 17th centuries. The enormous social, political, environmental and religious changes that befell the peoples of Europe caused huge psychological and sociological strain and this is often enough to cause a witch craze. Jon Oplinger postulated that being different was enough to become a target of witchcraft in a kinship based society. Deeply imbedded community issues, personal grudges and the frustrations of the officious and overbearing were as likely to cause accusations as any genuine wrongdoing. In a time when newly unemployed people with a claim to village life were replacing wandering vagrants as the bulk of begging poor, those who did not provide charity to their neighbours when requested would often point the finger of witchcraft at that neighbour if a calamity then befell them. The resulting witch crazes in west-central Europe and periods of witch burning across Europe were the result of socio-economic pressures and the apocalyptic fears of the age.
One of the great changes that Protestantism brought to the faithful was the idea that the Devil could afflict someone personally. Until 1552, part of the baptism ceremony, the Sarum Rite, was used to remove the devil from the child shortly after birth. It was believed that the Devil was inherent in the child until this rite was performed, at which point, the child no longer had to fear the Devil. In 1551, Martin Bücer objected to this idea, claiming it devalued those demons exercised by Christ and the apostles. The victory over Satan proclaimed in the Sarum Rite had been replaced with the fear of a life long battle with the Devil. Criminals, the diseased and the mad were just some of his victims. A ballad from the period describes arsonists John Fodder and his wife as claiming “the Divell, or else some fiend of his, persuaded them vnto this foule amiss” after setting fire to Wymondham in Norfolk in 1614. Alexander Nydge was described by his brother, Edward, as being tormented by the devil, his madness lasting nearly 4 months until “prayer delivered him”. Increasing reports of the instances of satanic activity would have made it appear that the devil, indirectly through witchcraft and directly through possession, was getting ready to act out his role in the unveiling apocalypse, “For they are the spirits of devils, working miracles, which go forth unto...the whole world, to gather them to the battle.”
Conclusion
According to Voltaire, “Three things flow constantly on the minds of men; the climate, the government and religion”. The religious and political turmoil caused by the reformation, the constant warfare, the collapsing economy and worsening climate were major factors responsible for the fears of most Europeans. The painful birth of new social orders and breathtaking discoveries that appeared to challenge God’s dominance over nature are good explanations for the continuing and indeed increasing fear of the apocalypse in the period. The chaos of the age led some to consider new explanations and ideas, and led others to rekindle old fears and superstations.
Like many periods of turmoil, explanations of the fearful mostly turned to the supernatural; disease, starvation and fire were seen as the direct or indirect wrath of God or the terrible acts of the Devil and his witches. Witchcraft and Satanic intervention were perfectly acceptable explanations for many misfortunes throughout much of European history, but the chaos of the times magnified those fears; the last days were here. Witches were now more than an evil nuisance to be destroyed when discovered; they were the apocalyptic foot soldiers of Lucifer himself.
When Tycho Brahe observed his star, he was not the only observer who believed in its astrological portent. To many in this period, the fear of the day of Judgement and of God’s wrath was an all-pervasive influence on their lives. Matthew 24:30, “and shall appear the sign of the son of Man in Heaven”, had come to pass, and it was clear to anyone that, as predicted, all the tribes of Europe, if not the whole Earth, were mourning. The unsettling pace of discovery and the appalling depth of turmoil had turned the world upside down; and now, they feared, that world was coming to its end.
Bibliography removed to stop plagiarism.
I hope some of you, at least, enjoy!
What frightened people in Europe in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries?
In November 1572, a type 1 supernova, later known as SN1572, lit up the night sky. Nestling at the centre of the constellation Cassiopeia, the star formed a cross that hung over the heads of all those in northern Europe for 16 months. Received as an omen, an angel or possibly god himself, the vision struck fear into the hearts of virtually all who saw it. Recorded by influential astronomer Tycho Brahe, it may seem unusual that a man of science would suggest that the star predicted “a new condition in kingdoms, different from the earlier and likewise a different order of religious conditions and laws”, but at the time, such ideas were far from abnormal. The star was seen as evidence that Judgement Day was soon upon the world.
The 16th and 17th centuries in Europe were a time of upheaval rarely seen in history. Scientific discovery, climate change, economic hardship, disease, war, pestilence, religious divide; the turmoil struck fear into the hearts of all who lived through it as they waited for the horror of the ‘last days’, so clearly being signalled. As chaos enveloped them, Europeans tried to make sense of the world and in so doing, many turned to the supernatural. An investigation into the culture of fear in the 16th and 17th centuries, through the climate, new discoveries, economy, the reformation, disease, fire and the belief in supernatural intervention, will show that Europeans feared they were living in the biblical end times and that the apocalypse had begun.
In many ways, the 16th and 17th centuries were an age of profound discovery. In astronomy, Copernicus’ work De Revolutionibus orbium coelestium was posthumously published in 1543, placing the Sun at the centre of the solar system rather than the Earth. Backed up by Kepler in 1609, and finally confirmed by Galileo’s telescope in 1632, these ideas shook Catholicism to the very core. The decision of the inquisition to add Copernicus’ work to The Index Librorum Prohibitorum, and ban Galileo from teaching Copernican doctrine in 1616, culminating in his trial of 1633, are evidence of the radical nature of these ideas.
Many other great discoveries were being made in the era. In 1492, Christopher Columbus set foot on the shores of the Americas, opening up a previously new world to be explored and fought over for the next 2 centuries and beyond. Suddenly, the world had become a much bigger, scarier place. Science and philosophy leapt forward; Isaac Newton perfected Galileo’s observation of Gravity by publishing Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica on the 5th July 1687, in which he detailed his laws of motion and many other great works of science and philosophy tried to make sense of the frightening world around them, a world changing beyond recognition.
The climate and economy in Europe changed quite suddenly in the 16th and 17th centuries. In the early 16th Century, Northern and Western Europe enjoyed relatively warm conditions. 1498-1648 was, in general, a period of growing wealth and population. In this time, however, the extremes of climate led to crop failures and famine on average every four years, getting worse as the centuries progressed. In 1570, an abrupt change to the climate marked the beginning of a series of cool summers which continued getting wetter, hitting their worst between 1640 and 1660. This devastated food supplies, causing a rise in the price of wheat, which peaked in 1650, and reduced the standard of living of the general populous. The growth in population soon overtook the growth in the economy, making jobs harder to find, especially in England. Inevitably, long periods of famine and starvation ensued amongst the now greater numbers of poor; a starvation believed by many to be sent by God.
The Political and religious landscape of Europe changed in 16th and 17th century. The Catholic Church, so dominant in European religion, had long been teaching the notion of Purgatory, a halfway house between heaven and hell where unspent sins could be worked off after death. People were advised that generosity, in the building of bridges, charity and ultimately funding the church itself, would reduce your time in purgatory through the prayer of those who had benefitted from your generosity. Another step closer to salvation could be bought from clergy as ‘indulgence letters’, reducing your sins through the prayer of others in exchange for payment. This created a good income for the Roman Catholic Church; Christ’s grace was still the only way to heaven, but an indulgence letter could help you on your way.
On the 31st October 1517, Martin Luther pinned his 95 theses, criticising the position of Catholic teachings, to the church door in Wittenberg. Luther attacked the practices of the Catholic clergy, stating that “They preach only human doctrines who say that as soon as the money clinks into the money chest, the soul flies out of purgatory” and that “those who believe that they can be certain of their salvation because they have indulgence letters will be eternally damned, together with their teachers”. The revolution this sparked surprised even Luther, who at the time was more interested in arguing against Aristotelian teaching in defence of “our theology and that of Augustine”. Nevertheless, a revolution began.
The timing was an important factor in the spread of Luther’s ideas. Religious arguments leading to war had raged across Europe before, such as the investiture crisis of the mediaeval period, but in the 16th Century a new form of print capitalism, printing pamphlets and books in local languages, spread radical ideas quicker than had previously been possible. Luther’s theses were available to the whole of Germany in only 15 days, and subsequent texts made Martin Luther perhaps the first “best seller” in history. The reformation had begun; a schism between Catholicism and the new Protestantism, whose battle for supremacy was to help tear Europe apart.
The military belligerence of 16th and 17th century Europe was not outstripped until the 20th Century. The terrible threat of the Ottoman Empire encroaching on Europe’s borders and the fears of raids from Barbary pirates was exacerbated by vicious internal wars. Between 1480 and 1700, England went to war 29 times; France 34; Spain 36; and the Holy Roman Empire 25 times, most noticeably in the 80 years war, sparked by a Dutch reformist revolt. Like many of the wars in the period, the 80 years war was ostensibly about religion, Philip II stated that he would rather lose his life and lands a hundred times rather than rule over heathens, but other factors did play a part. An early proposer of international arbitration, Émeric Crucé, commented in 1623 that “wars are undertaken either for honour or profit, or for the reparation of some wrong...one could add religion except...this serves most often as a pretext”; as is so often the case, religion and the turmoil of the reformation was used as the pretext for war. The 30 years war that began in Germany, in which religion was, again, used as the pretext, ultimately involved the whole of Europe. The intermingling of Europe’s wars was the norm, the only real exceptions being the French religious wars and the English civil the war. The separate English reformation, followed by the counter-reformation tyranny of Queen Mary, created enough fear in the actions of Charles I to help start a civil war which led to puritan rule and the Kings trial and regicide; an act without precedent in Europe. No matter what the real reasons for the endless warfare in Europe, religion was the common reason given, perhaps to make the fighting more vicious; it did have that effect. Such war would have been another sure sign the last days had begun; it must have at times appeared that hell truly was upon the earth.
The apocalypse and the reformation are almost inseparable. It has been argued that Protestantism was defined by its relationship to the biblical ‘last days’, the struggle between the reformers and the enemies of the gospels was central to the protestant message. Describing the pope, indeed, the entire Catholic Church, as the Antichrist, alongside society’s abundant sin, the weakness of faith and the arrival of the chosen prophet who identified that antichrist, was a sure sign of that the ‘last days’ were happening. Other apocalyptic cults had existed prior to the reformation, but these groups were usually considered fringe movements, in the 16th and 17th centuries, however, the lines drawn between reformation and counter-reformation powers led to a common belief that Judgement Day would soon come. These great upheavals gave rise to biblical explanations for inexplicable events, and an inescapable fear of God’s wrath and the Devil’s power.
Into this pot of economic, political and religious uncertainty were added other ingredients; pestilence, fire and superstition. Diseases broke out repeatedly and swept across Europe. In 1506, Albrecht Dürer wrote from Venice “pray God that I may be protected...especially from the French Sickness...nearly everyone has it”, discussing the outbreak of a terrible form of sexually transmitted pox that spread like wildfire across continental Europe in the early 16th century. Possibly an early outbreak of the modern disease Syphilis, it is easy to see the link between what surgeon William Clowes referred to as the sin of “Filthy lust” and God’s punishment for that sin. Pox was not the only disease that devastated Europe in the 16th and 17th centuries. Siege Disease, or Typhus, sprang from the Spanish assault on Granada in 1489 and carried through to the battle grounds of the era. The “English Sweat” which struck Europe in the 16th century was a “Pestilence horrible indeed, before which no age could endure” according to Polydore Vergil, but most feared of all was the Plague. Terrifying plague outbreaks continued to occur throughout the 16th and 17th centuries. From 1522 to 1636, nine bouts of plague ravaged Europe, touching every European at least once in their lifetime. The plague was “the just anger of God” according to French royal surgeon, Ambroise Paré. God was the “beginning and cause of the second [natural] causes”, the plague “not to be attributed to these near and inferior causes or beginnings, as the Epicureans [Atheists]...commonly do.”
Witchcraft went beyond both natural ‘second causes’ and God’s wrath. Intentional plague spreading, occasionally seen as act of political terrorism, was most often attributed to witchcraft. Plague spreading by witches with the potential to threaten regimes was documented in judicial responses in the western Alps, and witches were also accused of attempting to destroy Geneva in June 1543, when two servant girls were caught attempting to spread the plague, so it is claimed, by ointment. Some witches were accused of causing fires. Fire, which is “always insatiable and unjust...respects neither churches nor royal palaces” according to Nicolas De LaMare, was common across Europe. From the bridge fires that destroyed two of Paris’ main crossings in 1621, to the Great Fire of London that all but levelled the English capital in 1666, fires were common, deadly and terrifying. The wars that engulfed Europe made the danger of fire more probable, as fire was used as a weapon of war with great effectiveness. Some fires, such as the great fire of London, were attributed directly to God’s wrath, a divine judgement on the “Sodom of the Restoration”. Others were blamed as the work of witches in league with the Devil, preparing for the apocalypse.
Works circulated confirming the presence of witches and stories linked important figures to the horrors of witchcraft. The “Witches of Warboys” were implicated in the Death of Lady Cromwell, posthumous grandmother of Oliver Cromwell. Stories of witches who turned themselves into werewolves, such as Peter Stompf, who admitted to killing 16 people in 1589 after becoming a witch, caused widespread panic in southern Germany. Great intellects sought to prove their existence, arguing against the few sceptical voices. Royal Society member Joseph Glanvill, in a response to Robert Hunt, suggested, “To deny them is to deny angels, or spirits, or resurrection of the body, or immortality of the soul”; to Glanvill, the existence of “witches and diabolical contracts, [was] most abundantly confirmed”.
Witches were real to most of the people in the 16th and 17th centuries. The enormous social, political, environmental and religious changes that befell the peoples of Europe caused huge psychological and sociological strain and this is often enough to cause a witch craze. Jon Oplinger postulated that being different was enough to become a target of witchcraft in a kinship based society. Deeply imbedded community issues, personal grudges and the frustrations of the officious and overbearing were as likely to cause accusations as any genuine wrongdoing. In a time when newly unemployed people with a claim to village life were replacing wandering vagrants as the bulk of begging poor, those who did not provide charity to their neighbours when requested would often point the finger of witchcraft at that neighbour if a calamity then befell them. The resulting witch crazes in west-central Europe and periods of witch burning across Europe were the result of socio-economic pressures and the apocalyptic fears of the age.
One of the great changes that Protestantism brought to the faithful was the idea that the Devil could afflict someone personally. Until 1552, part of the baptism ceremony, the Sarum Rite, was used to remove the devil from the child shortly after birth. It was believed that the Devil was inherent in the child until this rite was performed, at which point, the child no longer had to fear the Devil. In 1551, Martin Bücer objected to this idea, claiming it devalued those demons exercised by Christ and the apostles. The victory over Satan proclaimed in the Sarum Rite had been replaced with the fear of a life long battle with the Devil. Criminals, the diseased and the mad were just some of his victims. A ballad from the period describes arsonists John Fodder and his wife as claiming “the Divell, or else some fiend of his, persuaded them vnto this foule amiss” after setting fire to Wymondham in Norfolk in 1614. Alexander Nydge was described by his brother, Edward, as being tormented by the devil, his madness lasting nearly 4 months until “prayer delivered him”. Increasing reports of the instances of satanic activity would have made it appear that the devil, indirectly through witchcraft and directly through possession, was getting ready to act out his role in the unveiling apocalypse, “For they are the spirits of devils, working miracles, which go forth unto...the whole world, to gather them to the battle.”
Conclusion
According to Voltaire, “Three things flow constantly on the minds of men; the climate, the government and religion”. The religious and political turmoil caused by the reformation, the constant warfare, the collapsing economy and worsening climate were major factors responsible for the fears of most Europeans. The painful birth of new social orders and breathtaking discoveries that appeared to challenge God’s dominance over nature are good explanations for the continuing and indeed increasing fear of the apocalypse in the period. The chaos of the age led some to consider new explanations and ideas, and led others to rekindle old fears and superstations.
Like many periods of turmoil, explanations of the fearful mostly turned to the supernatural; disease, starvation and fire were seen as the direct or indirect wrath of God or the terrible acts of the Devil and his witches. Witchcraft and Satanic intervention were perfectly acceptable explanations for many misfortunes throughout much of European history, but the chaos of the times magnified those fears; the last days were here. Witches were now more than an evil nuisance to be destroyed when discovered; they were the apocalyptic foot soldiers of Lucifer himself.
When Tycho Brahe observed his star, he was not the only observer who believed in its astrological portent. To many in this period, the fear of the day of Judgement and of God’s wrath was an all-pervasive influence on their lives. Matthew 24:30, “and shall appear the sign of the son of Man in Heaven”, had come to pass, and it was clear to anyone that, as predicted, all the tribes of Europe, if not the whole Earth, were mourning. The unsettling pace of discovery and the appalling depth of turmoil had turned the world upside down; and now, they feared, that world was coming to its end.
Bibliography removed to stop plagiarism.
Tuesday 9 March 2010
Analyse the importance of the idea of objectivity in modern history and respond modern critics of the idea.
Adding to my lttle collection of works I am proud of. Citations have been removed to make future peeps copying much harder!
The ideal of objectivity, not allowing personal feelings or opinions to influence observation, is an essential part of the study of humanity and the universe. Researching fact, free from personal influence or emotion, separates empiricism from faith, knowledge from conjecture, doctorate from dogma. Without objectivity, all the gathered knowledge of humanity is reduced to personal belief. History, both an art and a science, asks for more than cold hard fact and the possibility of fact in history is defended by some, rejected by others; objectivity’s place in modern history is fiercely debated.
The emergence of objectivity in history, the influence of the enlightenment and the writings of Leopold von Ranke allow us to glimpse the minds behind the notion of applying objectivity to history. The use of objectivity in history by a champion of the observed and experienced, empiricist G.R Elton, the necessity for context and personal views in the subjectivity of E.H Carr and the rejection of objectivity by those who distrust it, Michael Foucault and postmodernists such as Keith Jenkins, reveal that entirely excluding objectivity from history is impossible. Analysing the methods used by these historians should steer us to the conclusion that although the theories within history are subjective, they should rest on objective historical facts.
The concept of objectivity in research originated within the natural philosophy of the 16th and 17th centuries. Born of the writings of Francis Bacon, the empirical ideal was applied to the study of humanity by thinkers such as David Hume and Immanuel Kant during the enlightenment. At the dawn of the modern era, the importance of objectivity in the discipline of history was developed in Germany by a number of scholars. Amongst these were Freidrich Meincke, Johann Gottfried Herder, and most importantly, Leopold Von Ranke.
Leopold Von Ranke, in his 1830’s manuscript “On the character of Historical Science”, called for historical events to be investigated without imagination “pre-empting this condition” in “a documentary, penetrating, profound study” devoted only to primary sources of the “phenomenon itself”. Ranke placed objectivity at the heart of historical research. To Ranke, history needed no imagination, speculation or subjectivity. Nor did it need, despite his apparent faith in God’s plan, “the claims of a certain narrow theology”, but a profound, through and objective investigation. Ranke’s empirical and objective approach remains popular and has been embraced by many respected historians.
Sir Geoffrey Elton believed that an event known to have taken place in history is an objective historical fact, impossible to “make or unmake”. In ‘An Early Tudor Poor Law’ written in 1953, Elton demonstrated this view of history. The work investigated a long forgotten draft, found in the British Museums Royal Manuscripts, created in the autumn of 1535. The draft has a close relationship with the pauper act of 1536 but went beyond it in its scope. It is not Elton’s research into the content of the draft itself which is of interest, but his investigation into its origins. Elton seeks the author of the early draft, suggesting that the writer would be “a pamphleteer with an interest in social reform”, a humanist, a religious reformer, be known to government, probably belonging to a circle who “grew up around Thomas Cromwell in the 1530’s”. Elton provides evidence for each of these statements in the text and the footnotes and then concludes that he has found such a man, William Marshall.
William Marshall, an ardent religious reformer and pamphleteer, who was occasionally commissioned by Cromwell, seems a likely author. Marshall, also mentioned by one of Cromwell’s correspondents, was “the only Englishman interested in continental poor relief” according to Elton. Elton has him translating the poor relief ordinances of the town of Ypres, dedicating the work to Queen Anne Boleyn and publishing them “in order to draw the attention of the king and council to the problem” in the same year the draft was produced. In all respects, William Marshall fits the bill; another historian might find this evidence sufficient. The always objective Elton, however, qualifies his position by stating that “These are conjectures, though of a kind that ought to carry some weight”. He speaks of the difficulties and unreliability of the evidence on this point and concludes “we cannot, then, be certain of the author of this remarkable document”.
The objectivity shown by Elton here is admirable. His warnings against taking his assumption as fact despite his strong personal conviction not only warn off those future historians who wish to quote his conclusions, but also instils confidence in the accuracy of Elton’s research. Where Elton has evidence to back his assertions up, he states so boldly, where he has only circumstantial evidence, he warns the reader; this gives Elton a degree of academic integrity. Elton, a member of the political right and uncomfortable with change strongly endorsed the then already over a century old style of objective, empirical history suggested by von Ranke. But what use is history for history’s sake?
According to E.H Carr, pure objectivism is impossible because all historians are influenced by their own values in their choice and interpretation of sources. He claimed that history “cannot accommodate [itself] to a theory of knowledge which puts subject and object asunder, enforces a rigid separation between the observer and the thing observed.” Historians must, according to Carr, subjectively choose which facts to interpret. Some historical studies need a certain amount of subjectivity. Edward W. Said, for example, could not have researched ‘Orientalism’, investigating the relationship between ‘the orient’, or “the other”, and “the west”, nor challenged “the worldwide hegemony of orientalism” without subjectively choosing only the sources which informed his chosen study. Studying women’s, black, gay and other specialist histories would also difficult without subjectivity. The historian is, in Carr’s words, “balanced between fact and interpretation, between fact and value. He cannot separate them”. Carr’s own values and interpretation of fact, however, have been called into question.
Carr’s subjectivity was tainted by the search for a larger, progressive history “flowing”, as Richard Evans put it, “from past through present to future”. Some historians, such as Hugh Trevor-Roper, accused Carr of being a Marxist, a Stalinist and a Leninist; ignoring sources which did not accord with his own ideas. Others said Carr was highly critical of Marxism and that to say he was a Marxist is debatable. His comment that “Caesar’s crossing of...the Rubicon is a fact of history, whereas the crossing of the Rubicon by millions of other people before or since interests nobody” refutes that idea that his chosen historical approach was Marxist, otherwise the lives of the “millions” would be paramount to him. But political Marxist or not, Carr spoke openly about history as a progression towards a desired future, perhaps not, as Evens suggested, a “Soviet-style planned economy”, but certainly a progression.
In Carr’s paper, ‘Some Notes on Soviet Bashkiria’, we see evidence of this progressive colouring of sources. Words crop up like “economic and cultural development...substantially higher than their own” and “backwards regions”. He describes the Islamic and nomadic Bashkir’s as “primitive peoples” and insists that a positive turning point came for the Bashkir’s “with the development of industry”; no dissenting voices are heard from. The work is filled with facts and figures, such as population levels, but his use of relative statements like “but something had to be done, and the obvious alternative...”, typify Carr’s use of personal opinion; he presents no objective evidence that the action mentioned was necessary, or that the alternative was, indeed, “obvious”.
This pursuit of purpose in history was regarded as “trying to fill the vacuum created when God was removed from history” by Elton, who also saw Carr’s additional assertion that a historical fact only becomes so if it is chosen by historians as arrogant. Carr’s progressive subjectivity could lead to distortions and omissions from history, potentially creating a form of progressive pseudo-history, devoid of anything but that which enriched the historian’s own relative view of progress. Without some degree of subjectivity, however, histories focusing on specific fields could be overlooked.
Michel Foucault took Carr’s subjectivity further. To Foucault, history could not be objective. He stated that “historians take unusual pains to erase the elements in their work which reveal...their preferences in a controversy”, suggesting an approach in which “perception is slanted.” Not only is objectivity impossible, according to Foucault, but it should be rejected. “An event”, he claims, “is not a decision, a treaty, a reign or a battle, but the reversal of a relationship of forces”. In 1977 he stated of his own “Effective History” that “I have never written anything but fictions. I do not mean to say...that truth is absent...One fictions history on the basis of a political reality that makes it true.” His truth was a personal, philosophical, aesthetic perception of history, rather than an objective historical reality.
The idea that ‘absolute truth’ is impossible in history does have merit, but do any historians look for absolute truth? Foucault and postmodern historians such as Keith Jenkins are right to point out that a historical source does not provide any certainties. Mathematics has absolute and falsifiable notions such as ‘‘every circle has a centre”, and it can be argued that history does not; history, however, records some dates with almost as much certainty. Jenkins maintains that “history is intersubjective and ideologically positioned; that objectivity and being unbiased are chimeras; that empathy is flawed; that ‘originals’ do not entail anything genuine”. This is the “intellectual equivalent of crack” according to Elton; postmodernism attacked the core of his empiricist sensibilities, but Elton’s dream that “pristine pieces of evidence...organise themselves into...explanations”, is, as Jenkins suggests, farfetched. It is right to be skeptical about historical sources, but extreme postmodernism leads to what Elton referred to as acts of “frivolous nihilism”, such as denying the Nazi holocaust. This, as stated by Deborah Lipstadt, is a threat to all who value history as part of our cultural and social foundation.
Is a history without any objectivity even possible? Foucault did not seem able to avoid objectivity entirely in his historical works. In “Madness and Civilisation”, although his derivations are subjective, Foucault bases much of this subjectivity on objective, primary sources, such as Johann Weyer’s ‘De Praestigiis Daemonum’. Keith Jenkins and other ‘endism’ historians rarely contribute to the field of history, believing the study of history to be impossible. This begs the question: to what extent can they be regarded as historians rather than philosophers? It also casts serious doubt on the practicality of postmodern methods in the real world of historical research.
Conclusion
Ranke had a good point when he suggested that history should be “in pure cognition, undulled by preconceived notions”. The spectre of a world filled with Carr’s politically progressive views of history, or Foucault’s self-confessed historical fiction, or no history at all as suggested by postmodernism, is threatening. Objective facts are the bedrock on which we build historical theories and without their support, the towers of historical knowledge will crumble and fall.
Total objectivity is also problematic. As Thomas Haskell states, objectivity alone gives “a two dimensional representation of a path that is at least three dimensional”. In Elton, events were reconstructed objectively from their sources without questioning, unless the questions came from the sources themselves. As Quentin Skinner observes, if faced with a house which has nothing interesting to say, what should a historian do? Furthermore, if the house is huge and objectively reconstructing all of its facts would take a life time, is it not wiser to use assumption where it is reasonable to do so? The postmodern view that objectivity and absolute truths in history are impossible does have merit. However, as John Tosh explains, this betrays “an ignorance of how historians actually work”. The dismissal of objectivity through an inability to find absolute historical truth is as foolish as dismissing the validity of physics due to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. Most historians are well versed in the art of critical analysis. They, as Richard Evans put it, “engage in dialogue with it [the evidence], actively interrogating it and [bring it] to bare on theories and ideas formulated in the present.” By ignoring the dialogue between historian and evidence, we are left with the threat of prejudice slipping into our evaluations of the sources unnoticed. Additionally, specialist areas of history, such as black history and women’s history, are difficult to investigate without subjectively selecting relevant sources; Ranke and Elton’s wish for total objectivity could leave these important subjects forgotten.
So what is the best way to find balance on the tightrope between cold objectivity and subjective anarchy? Karl Popper has long since resolved the dichotomy of objectivity versus subjectivity in science, stating that “judges are not omniscient, and may make mistakes...in truth absolute justice is never realised...but the belief in the rule of law can hardly survive...an epistemology which teaches there are no objective facts”. Popper endorsed the concept of building falsifiable theories; based upon subjective hypothesises which have been tested by objective observations. This concept has been readily accepted by science which subjects its theorists to stringent peer review, attacking the validity and accuracy of both observation and theory. Science, for the most part, is comfortable balancing objectivity with uncertainty. Why isn’t history?
The ideal of objectivity, not allowing personal feelings or opinions to influence observation, is an essential part of the study of humanity and the universe. Researching fact, free from personal influence or emotion, separates empiricism from faith, knowledge from conjecture, doctorate from dogma. Without objectivity, all the gathered knowledge of humanity is reduced to personal belief. History, both an art and a science, asks for more than cold hard fact and the possibility of fact in history is defended by some, rejected by others; objectivity’s place in modern history is fiercely debated.
The emergence of objectivity in history, the influence of the enlightenment and the writings of Leopold von Ranke allow us to glimpse the minds behind the notion of applying objectivity to history. The use of objectivity in history by a champion of the observed and experienced, empiricist G.R Elton, the necessity for context and personal views in the subjectivity of E.H Carr and the rejection of objectivity by those who distrust it, Michael Foucault and postmodernists such as Keith Jenkins, reveal that entirely excluding objectivity from history is impossible. Analysing the methods used by these historians should steer us to the conclusion that although the theories within history are subjective, they should rest on objective historical facts.
The concept of objectivity in research originated within the natural philosophy of the 16th and 17th centuries. Born of the writings of Francis Bacon, the empirical ideal was applied to the study of humanity by thinkers such as David Hume and Immanuel Kant during the enlightenment. At the dawn of the modern era, the importance of objectivity in the discipline of history was developed in Germany by a number of scholars. Amongst these were Freidrich Meincke, Johann Gottfried Herder, and most importantly, Leopold Von Ranke.
Leopold Von Ranke, in his 1830’s manuscript “On the character of Historical Science”, called for historical events to be investigated without imagination “pre-empting this condition” in “a documentary, penetrating, profound study” devoted only to primary sources of the “phenomenon itself”. Ranke placed objectivity at the heart of historical research. To Ranke, history needed no imagination, speculation or subjectivity. Nor did it need, despite his apparent faith in God’s plan, “the claims of a certain narrow theology”, but a profound, through and objective investigation. Ranke’s empirical and objective approach remains popular and has been embraced by many respected historians.
Sir Geoffrey Elton believed that an event known to have taken place in history is an objective historical fact, impossible to “make or unmake”. In ‘An Early Tudor Poor Law’ written in 1953, Elton demonstrated this view of history. The work investigated a long forgotten draft, found in the British Museums Royal Manuscripts, created in the autumn of 1535. The draft has a close relationship with the pauper act of 1536 but went beyond it in its scope. It is not Elton’s research into the content of the draft itself which is of interest, but his investigation into its origins. Elton seeks the author of the early draft, suggesting that the writer would be “a pamphleteer with an interest in social reform”, a humanist, a religious reformer, be known to government, probably belonging to a circle who “grew up around Thomas Cromwell in the 1530’s”. Elton provides evidence for each of these statements in the text and the footnotes and then concludes that he has found such a man, William Marshall.
William Marshall, an ardent religious reformer and pamphleteer, who was occasionally commissioned by Cromwell, seems a likely author. Marshall, also mentioned by one of Cromwell’s correspondents, was “the only Englishman interested in continental poor relief” according to Elton. Elton has him translating the poor relief ordinances of the town of Ypres, dedicating the work to Queen Anne Boleyn and publishing them “in order to draw the attention of the king and council to the problem” in the same year the draft was produced. In all respects, William Marshall fits the bill; another historian might find this evidence sufficient. The always objective Elton, however, qualifies his position by stating that “These are conjectures, though of a kind that ought to carry some weight”. He speaks of the difficulties and unreliability of the evidence on this point and concludes “we cannot, then, be certain of the author of this remarkable document”.
The objectivity shown by Elton here is admirable. His warnings against taking his assumption as fact despite his strong personal conviction not only warn off those future historians who wish to quote his conclusions, but also instils confidence in the accuracy of Elton’s research. Where Elton has evidence to back his assertions up, he states so boldly, where he has only circumstantial evidence, he warns the reader; this gives Elton a degree of academic integrity. Elton, a member of the political right and uncomfortable with change strongly endorsed the then already over a century old style of objective, empirical history suggested by von Ranke. But what use is history for history’s sake?
According to E.H Carr, pure objectivism is impossible because all historians are influenced by their own values in their choice and interpretation of sources. He claimed that history “cannot accommodate [itself] to a theory of knowledge which puts subject and object asunder, enforces a rigid separation between the observer and the thing observed.” Historians must, according to Carr, subjectively choose which facts to interpret. Some historical studies need a certain amount of subjectivity. Edward W. Said, for example, could not have researched ‘Orientalism’, investigating the relationship between ‘the orient’, or “the other”, and “the west”, nor challenged “the worldwide hegemony of orientalism” without subjectively choosing only the sources which informed his chosen study. Studying women’s, black, gay and other specialist histories would also difficult without subjectivity. The historian is, in Carr’s words, “balanced between fact and interpretation, between fact and value. He cannot separate them”. Carr’s own values and interpretation of fact, however, have been called into question.
Carr’s subjectivity was tainted by the search for a larger, progressive history “flowing”, as Richard Evans put it, “from past through present to future”. Some historians, such as Hugh Trevor-Roper, accused Carr of being a Marxist, a Stalinist and a Leninist; ignoring sources which did not accord with his own ideas. Others said Carr was highly critical of Marxism and that to say he was a Marxist is debatable. His comment that “Caesar’s crossing of...the Rubicon is a fact of history, whereas the crossing of the Rubicon by millions of other people before or since interests nobody” refutes that idea that his chosen historical approach was Marxist, otherwise the lives of the “millions” would be paramount to him. But political Marxist or not, Carr spoke openly about history as a progression towards a desired future, perhaps not, as Evens suggested, a “Soviet-style planned economy”, but certainly a progression.
In Carr’s paper, ‘Some Notes on Soviet Bashkiria’, we see evidence of this progressive colouring of sources. Words crop up like “economic and cultural development...substantially higher than their own” and “backwards regions”. He describes the Islamic and nomadic Bashkir’s as “primitive peoples” and insists that a positive turning point came for the Bashkir’s “with the development of industry”; no dissenting voices are heard from. The work is filled with facts and figures, such as population levels, but his use of relative statements like “but something had to be done, and the obvious alternative...”, typify Carr’s use of personal opinion; he presents no objective evidence that the action mentioned was necessary, or that the alternative was, indeed, “obvious”.
This pursuit of purpose in history was regarded as “trying to fill the vacuum created when God was removed from history” by Elton, who also saw Carr’s additional assertion that a historical fact only becomes so if it is chosen by historians as arrogant. Carr’s progressive subjectivity could lead to distortions and omissions from history, potentially creating a form of progressive pseudo-history, devoid of anything but that which enriched the historian’s own relative view of progress. Without some degree of subjectivity, however, histories focusing on specific fields could be overlooked.
Michel Foucault took Carr’s subjectivity further. To Foucault, history could not be objective. He stated that “historians take unusual pains to erase the elements in their work which reveal...their preferences in a controversy”, suggesting an approach in which “perception is slanted.” Not only is objectivity impossible, according to Foucault, but it should be rejected. “An event”, he claims, “is not a decision, a treaty, a reign or a battle, but the reversal of a relationship of forces”. In 1977 he stated of his own “Effective History” that “I have never written anything but fictions. I do not mean to say...that truth is absent...One fictions history on the basis of a political reality that makes it true.” His truth was a personal, philosophical, aesthetic perception of history, rather than an objective historical reality.
The idea that ‘absolute truth’ is impossible in history does have merit, but do any historians look for absolute truth? Foucault and postmodern historians such as Keith Jenkins are right to point out that a historical source does not provide any certainties. Mathematics has absolute and falsifiable notions such as ‘‘every circle has a centre”, and it can be argued that history does not; history, however, records some dates with almost as much certainty. Jenkins maintains that “history is intersubjective and ideologically positioned; that objectivity and being unbiased are chimeras; that empathy is flawed; that ‘originals’ do not entail anything genuine”. This is the “intellectual equivalent of crack” according to Elton; postmodernism attacked the core of his empiricist sensibilities, but Elton’s dream that “pristine pieces of evidence...organise themselves into...explanations”, is, as Jenkins suggests, farfetched. It is right to be skeptical about historical sources, but extreme postmodernism leads to what Elton referred to as acts of “frivolous nihilism”, such as denying the Nazi holocaust. This, as stated by Deborah Lipstadt, is a threat to all who value history as part of our cultural and social foundation.
Is a history without any objectivity even possible? Foucault did not seem able to avoid objectivity entirely in his historical works. In “Madness and Civilisation”, although his derivations are subjective, Foucault bases much of this subjectivity on objective, primary sources, such as Johann Weyer’s ‘De Praestigiis Daemonum’. Keith Jenkins and other ‘endism’ historians rarely contribute to the field of history, believing the study of history to be impossible. This begs the question: to what extent can they be regarded as historians rather than philosophers? It also casts serious doubt on the practicality of postmodern methods in the real world of historical research.
Conclusion
Ranke had a good point when he suggested that history should be “in pure cognition, undulled by preconceived notions”. The spectre of a world filled with Carr’s politically progressive views of history, or Foucault’s self-confessed historical fiction, or no history at all as suggested by postmodernism, is threatening. Objective facts are the bedrock on which we build historical theories and without their support, the towers of historical knowledge will crumble and fall.
Total objectivity is also problematic. As Thomas Haskell states, objectivity alone gives “a two dimensional representation of a path that is at least three dimensional”. In Elton, events were reconstructed objectively from their sources without questioning, unless the questions came from the sources themselves. As Quentin Skinner observes, if faced with a house which has nothing interesting to say, what should a historian do? Furthermore, if the house is huge and objectively reconstructing all of its facts would take a life time, is it not wiser to use assumption where it is reasonable to do so? The postmodern view that objectivity and absolute truths in history are impossible does have merit. However, as John Tosh explains, this betrays “an ignorance of how historians actually work”. The dismissal of objectivity through an inability to find absolute historical truth is as foolish as dismissing the validity of physics due to Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle. Most historians are well versed in the art of critical analysis. They, as Richard Evans put it, “engage in dialogue with it [the evidence], actively interrogating it and [bring it] to bare on theories and ideas formulated in the present.” By ignoring the dialogue between historian and evidence, we are left with the threat of prejudice slipping into our evaluations of the sources unnoticed. Additionally, specialist areas of history, such as black history and women’s history, are difficult to investigate without subjectively selecting relevant sources; Ranke and Elton’s wish for total objectivity could leave these important subjects forgotten.
So what is the best way to find balance on the tightrope between cold objectivity and subjective anarchy? Karl Popper has long since resolved the dichotomy of objectivity versus subjectivity in science, stating that “judges are not omniscient, and may make mistakes...in truth absolute justice is never realised...but the belief in the rule of law can hardly survive...an epistemology which teaches there are no objective facts”. Popper endorsed the concept of building falsifiable theories; based upon subjective hypothesises which have been tested by objective observations. This concept has been readily accepted by science which subjects its theorists to stringent peer review, attacking the validity and accuracy of both observation and theory. Science, for the most part, is comfortable balancing objectivity with uncertainty. Why isn’t history?
scarlet/blonde's "acerbic" out May 25th
Right, sorted,
scarlet/blonde's long lost and now back album "Acerbic...a loose
concept" is going to be released may 25th so y'all better go get
it!"
CD's will be available from Amazon and
MP3's from everywhere. In the meantime, here's
some music. From the album acerbic; Fuse [in session]
http://ping.fm/jdAuo
scarlet/blonde's long lost and now back album "Acerbic...a loose
concept" is going to be released may 25th so y'all better go get
it!"
CD's will be available from Amazon and
MP3's from everywhere. In the meantime, here's
some music. From the album acerbic; Fuse [in session]
http://ping.fm/jdAuo
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