Imagine you were a little boy or girl and the Middle Ages were all swords and horses, war and glory, kings and noblemen. In the Plantagenet era this wImagine you were a little boy or girl and the Middle Ages were all swords and horses, war and glory, kings and noblemen. In the Plantagenet era this was the reality. For the little boy that I am the narratives couldn't be more exciting. They are filled with castles, betrayal, honor, ruthless assassinations, political scheming, adultery, and melodramatic emotions.
They are the kind of stories you would think were fiction, had they not appeared as honest-to-god historical writing. Yet, I found myself treating them in fictional categories. That is, I constantly found myself thinking such silly thoughts as, oh Richard I is now my favorite English king, how awesome is Edward I., how dashing Edward III. If good storytelling is based on strong characters, British history did a very good job.
The opening is already quite spectacular. When the White Ship drowned after some heavy drinking, Henry I was suddenly without heir to the English throne. Since the aging king wasn't able to produce another legitimate son (begetting children was never much of a problem before), he eventually made his daughter Matilda his successor. Acceptance wasn't there and a decade-long civil war ensued between her and her cousin, the self-proclaimed King Stephen. The woman was determined to take what she thought was rightfully hers.
From there we go on to Henry II and his glorious yet surprisingly non-violent re-conquering of England. In later decades he's mostly remembered for his volatile relationship with the later Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. To make it brief, it's easy to see why movie bosses could be convinced the events presented blockbuster material.
For the most part, the book fully keeps up the momentum. The kings are very different in style and personality. The relationship between England and its neighbors is quite interesting, too. At some point the dynasty would loose its Continental territories, later it would gain control over Wales (where Edward I. built the most spectacular castles) and even Scotland. The relationship with the King of France is evidently another lasting source of tension. However, the most forceful antagonists are always found among the king's own vassals.
For me The Plantagenets: The Kings Who Made England was quite the page-turner. It doesn't spend much time on interpretation or on discerning any lasting trends or patterns. It's fully dedicated to the events and to telling them in the most striking fashion. To keep with the pathos, in this it succeeds gloriously.
Marc Morris makes castles the focal point of narratives that are naturally filled with violence and vanity. If you are in any was susceptible the storMarc Morris makes castles the focal point of narratives that are naturally filled with violence and vanity. If you are in any was susceptible the stories magically spark boyish excitement for medieval fortresses, especially when it comes to the war-deciding buildings of William the Conqueror, King John, and Edward I.
Every chapter has its overall arc that seamlessly integrates architecture, personal storytelling, and development of the culture as a whole. In that way the reader gains a very good sense of what castles were like in the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries. After initial reluctance – castles were considered a foolish invention of people from the other side of the Channel – castles were often a determining factor in British history as well as mirroring the zeitgeist. In that way the book often reads as an inspired yet admittedly sketchy History of Britain.
I don't really have a head for visual imagination, at least not when it comes to architectural description, so I think many details would have passed me by without leaving a vivid image. Frankly, this is what happened on my first reading. It was only afterwards that I learned that even before the book was published Morris hosted an eponymous show on Channel 4. It's really awesome to be able to visit those places and to have experts explain things in more tangible terms.
The occasionally tongue-in-cheek but always vivid prose is a joy to read. There were quite a few moments where passing remarks had me chuckle for a bit. More importantly, it masterfully incorporates the details necessary when Morris tackles the puzzling questions that prompt themselves after a fuller appreciation of the facts.
It's especially in the last three chapters that the role of castles isn't as evident as it initially was. The overarching theme appears to be why castles hang on to their cultural significance long after technological advances diminished their military might. Honestly, my fascination vanished when I learned that later buildings like the epic Bodiam Castle where consciously built as fake fortresses.
Consequently, the narratives weren't as anchored as they had been in the earlier chapters. They still depict exciting times in British history, like civil wars or the tumultuous times in Scotland's past (apparently it's not all conflict and bloodshed). Still, castles now appear as popular scenes among many rather than representing history in the making.
Castle: A History of the Buildings that Shaped Medieval Britain is the kind of book that makes me wish there were similar works for the castles in Germany and France. Or for churches, monasteries, and cathedrals (please write if you have any recommendations!). It's history in its most exciting form, not the least because of the documentaries that accompany the chapters.
In Blood and Mistletoe, Ronald Hutton, an acknowledged authority on Paganism on the British Isles, reconstructs the history of the druids in Britain. In Blood and Mistletoe, Ronald Hutton, an acknowledged authority on Paganism on the British Isles, reconstructs the history of the druids in Britain. The subtitle of being a history about the druids might be misleading, though. In the first chapter the reader learns how very little modern scholarly actually knows about authentic druidism. From then on the account is as much about the literary reception, writers, and public spokesmen as it is about their subjects and adopted predecessors.
Over the twelve chapters, Hutton tells a continuous story woven together from numerous threads. Ideas, characters, and institutions make their recurring appearances, with later generations building on and evolving what came before them.
I have to admit, initially I was disappointed that this wouldn't be about druids in the common sense of a subject-matter. However, I was increasingly intrigued by how fictions and fantasies may have very real applications and consequences. In the hands of some influential people, druids became the substance of the newly-forming national identities of the seventeenth century. They are praised as recipients of divine revelation of an original religion shared by a unified humanity of ancient days and thereby susceptible for the true religion of Christianity. In more sober yet equally fanciful readings they have obtained the religion of the Old Testament by contact with Phoenician travelers. In later centuries it was emphasized that their pure theology wasn't the antic of Roman Catholicism.
According to ancient sources (as well as Asterix), they may have possessed deep understanding of herbs and plants and the oath and mistletoe may have have featured prominently in their rites allegedly performed in groves. In the days of romanticism, they were therefore admired as priests of nature living in unison with the environment around them. In the days of the French Revolution, druids – the brave resistance fighters against Roman conquest – then become proponents of peace and liberty.
When the literary movement took its gothic turn, the druids' rites of human sacrifice become the main motif in the poetic portrayal of their kind. While in earlier times ideas of the Noble Savage prevailed, following direct contact with the 'primitive' peoples of the colonies druids are suddenly said to have performed just the horrifying practices found abroad. And in the age of revolution and progress, druids no longer appeared as wise philosophers and scientists; they were barbarians, the starting point from where Western civilization strived towards enlightenment.
As becomes obvious, the attitude towards druids is highly subject to (what the author at one point calls) swings of cultural fashion. It's not primarily about the abstract movements, though. They gain importance and reality in the lives of certain individuals.
More than anyone else - with the possible exception of the Welsh scholar Iolo Morganwg – it was William Stukeley who influenced the modern British understanding of druids. He popularized the idea (held especially by John Aubrey before him) that the stone monuments and other physical remains all around Britain were in fact constructed by druids. It is admitted that the work in his younger years – before later turning to the Church – makes him one of the most important predecessors to the discipline of archeology. He writes two influential books, one on Stonehenge and the other on the Avebury stone circle. He later adopts a druidic name for himself by which people would refer to him all throughout his life.
The third chapter goes into much detail about the life of this important man. It's genuinely interesting in its own right, not only because of his influence on many generations after him, but also because of the many contradictions it seems to have involved. For one thing, in his early writings he seems fully indifferent towards Christianity and expresses belief in an original religion. He's fascinated by structure and the origin of things and expresses an interest in Egypt and the religion of its people. All this doesn't seem to matter anymore when in 1729 he suddenly becomes a passionate adherent to Christianity. Hutton goes some way to explain the motives and reasons behind this sudden religious shift.
Edward Williams – or Iolo Morganwg as he will later be known – is a very important figure in the history of Wales. As his nickname suggests, he identified strongly with his homeland, the Vale of Glamorgan (called Bro Morgannwg in Welsh). He leaves his home after his mother died and makes a name of himself as author and editor of medieval works of bardic traditions, of whom he claimed a oral continuity with the bards of ancient days. The ideas he develops more and more loose their touch with reality, a fact that to some degree might be explained by his livelong addiction to laudanum.
In his own writings, he depicts the social system of ancient Celtic societies as one in which druids were bards specialized in religious concerns and thought that in their theology they weren't that different from Christianity. He mirrors the New Testament theme of words being there in the beginning and points to national heroes not dissimilar to Greek gods. He is also among the first who interprets them in terms of Far-Eastern religions. As we now know, many of his publications and sources are nothing but forgeries.
He might have had good intentions. He sympathize with the liberal ideas of the ongoing French Revolution and wanted to create an ideal society, former glories for his people to emulate. However, the author finds unusually strong words in his assessment of Iolo's influence:
"The implications of his deceptions should not be underestimated. The Myvyrian Archaiology was designed specifically to introduce ordinary literate Welsh people to the glories of their heritage; and Iolo had sabotaged it. Deeming the actual literature of the bards to be inadequate, he had substituted an imagined early Wales of his own, and so cut off readers of the book – which indeed became a classic – from much of the real achievement of the medieval Welsh. In doing so, he had at once betrayed his friends and his country."
Scholars would base their theories on Iolo's manuscripts for many centuries to come. He also created an influential druidic institution in which he himself functioned as (the only) direct descendant of the historic bards. It's understandable that he was met with opposition – not the least because of his quarrelsome personality – and even in his day people accused him of dishonesty. Among them, Edward "Celtic" Davies was the most influential, whose often arduous life made for intriguing reading, too. There are other biographical pieces that kept me thoroughly interested. For one thing, the story of Iolo's son Taliesin, named after an early medieval bard, is deeply entwined with the labor movement of the industrial age and he later assumes important offices in the druidic institution founded by his father. It's never quite clear whether he genuinely believed in the teachings of his father.
More picturesque still was William Price. To call him an eccentric character would be an understatement. He was very active in the druidic circles of his day, political to the bone, and highly irritable in his interactions with others. In public he appeared as the druid par excellence:
[He wore] a beard flowing to his waist, and his hair, which has evidently not been cut for many years, descends to as great a length, but is tied up with sundry long tails, à la chinoise. His dress consists of a jacket and trousers of emerald green, fancifully notched and scalloped, lined and pointed with bright scarlet, and adorned with numerous small gilt buttons bearing devices. His cap is of sable, of singularly quaint form, and has attached to it three pendant tails of the same fur, one falling over each shoulder of the wearer, and the third coming down to the centre of his back.
He was fully convinced in his role as some sort of messiah figure, an aspect well exemplified by the fact that he baptized his son Jesus Christ. Said son died tragically after only a few month and his father cremated him in the most public fashion on a hill. Price is today remembered as being highly influential in the legalization of this burial practice, which followed when he was able to argue his case in court in surprisingly sober and convincing manner.
The later chapters of the book are mostly dedicated to the various druidic societies and clubs. Social institutions of this kind became increasingly popular in Britain during the eighteenth century. Of particular importance was the Ancient Order of Druids that was founded in in 1781 and that exists to this day. Organizations like this became increasingly important as early insurances, as members paid there fees for certain hedge in case of illness or death. In other respects they were very similar to the Freemasons and other secret societies.
Unhappy with the elitism of the Ancient Order – their was a Grand Lodge that determined how their finances would be used – there were an early segregation of what became to be the United Ancient Order. In their heydays of later centuries, their was an immense increase in the number of members of the already popular organizations and they further split up and modernized themselves. They certainly were able to convey a sense of importance, probably not the least because of their glamorous ceremonies that must have looked every bit like the demonic rites in classic Hammer horror films. Of the stories told, the one about the Universal Bond of the twentieth century and its often confirmed right to Stonehenge was probably the most thrilling to read.
It's really amazing how some ideas and topic reemerge over the centuries over and over again. For instance, there is a legend (told by Tacitus) according to which Roman attackers on the Welsh island of Anglesey were met by dark women (later interpreted as witches) and druids in what might have been military functions. It seems so random, yet it often served as basis for other theories on the nature of ancient druids. They are also very often associated with the Neoplatonic thought of the Pythagorean school claiming an elaborate theology of resurrection. It's also amazing how two images (produced by Aylett Sammes) had such a lasting influence on our ideas of druids as wise men in robes and with long bears – and of their savage rite of burning the Wicker Man, made famous in the 1960s horror-film classic with Christopher Lee.
It blew my mind when the author observed that the modern-day ceremonies at Stonehenge might very well be the first druidic rituals and the most famous of sights. Druidism has become real, irrespective of any historic authenticity.