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A Buttery Pastry
Sep 4, 2011

Delicious and Informative!
:3:
*libertarianishly* the "Great Chinese Famine" was made up by statists to cover up the fact that tens of millions of Chinese people escaped the clutches of the extreme statist PRC tax collectors

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Bro Dad
Mar 26, 2010


drat never knew that 7 million people died in the battle of guandu

Cup Runneth Over
Aug 8, 2009

She said life's
Too short to worry
Life's too long to wait
It's too short
Not to love everybody
Life's too long to hate


Reminds me of European chroniclers who would write that the losing side of a battle suffered 300,000 casualties and the winning side suffered 7

DACK FAYDEN
Feb 25, 2013

Bear Witness

quote:

Like most Black kids who grew up without diverse representation, Jordan Calhoun learned the skill of assigning race to fictional characters. Piccolo, Panthro, Demona, Ursula...he could recognize a Black character when he saw one.
as a white dude I absolutely cannot argue and he's four for four

Drunkboxer
Jun 30, 2007

DACK FAYDEN posted:

as a white dude I absolutely cannot argue and he's four for four

idk about Ursula since she’s just a cartoon version of Devine but yeah the others are obvious

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀

Cup Runneth Over posted:

Reminds me of European chroniclers who would write that the losing side of a battle suffered 300,000 casualties and the winning side suffered 7

This still happens all the time when people teach undergraduates. Livy, Plutarch and Herodotus were writing something like history, and provide insight into how the past was recorded and remembered, but they were obviously using numbers for emphasis. Very important = big. A battle that was important to the republic or the life of one of the figures involved, must have had a bazillion casualties.

To a degree this happens with the history of Britain during the wars from the departure of the legions to Hastings. Because these were recorded in Welsh poems and Anglo-Saxon chronicles, several of them have passed into the Arthurian cycle, people believe they must have been these huge affairs. You know like Arthur's final battle, the Battle of Camlann, must have been like the fantastical Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Well, you look at how many men and horses these areas could support at the time, and the state of post-Roman logistics, and a big battle would have like 1000 guys on either side. It doesn't mean they weren't important, they were, they determined the government and religion of whole polities, figures who became mythological fought there as Dux or huscarls or whatever, but they were skirmishes compared to what we'd expect.

To link this to nerd interests, this has led to debate about the army sizes Total War games should have to represent them, because Thrones of Britannia is the only game where, with the exception of Hastings, the TW engine can accurately depict the amount of people on the field 1:1. If a future game could have tens of thousands of little soldiers, it would be too big to accurately depict most of these battles.

A Buttery Pastry
Sep 4, 2011

Delicious and Informative!
:3:

Drunkboxer posted:

idk about Ursula since she’s just a cartoon version of Devine but yeah the others are obvious
divine = black

WoodrowSkillson
Feb 24, 2005

*Gestures at 60 years of Lions history*

Just as an aside on the battle casualty figures, the victor having a lopsided amount of dead/injured is not always propaganda. In a lot of pre-gunpowder battles, the majority of casualties occur during a rout. The actual fighting is obviously dangerous and involves people getting killed, but in general when you are in ranks with your comrades, you are only at risk to a stray arrow or thrown missile unless you are actively engaged in the front rank. So a battle would be a slow burn of injuries/deaths in the front. Its only when something goes wrong, like being flanked, or that the front rank is overmatched and losing badly, that casualties mount and then get out of hand when one side breaks and then gets run down.

Like in the early modern period, pike combat was mostly not a super high casualty affair when both sides are in ranks and stabbing at each other.


But if things went sideways, it could get horribly violent with immense loss of life and they specifically called it "bad war"

Drunkboxer
Jun 30, 2007

A Buttery Pastry posted:

divine = black

seems like i still have a lot to learn

Real hurthling!
Sep 11, 2001




caesar tells us his victory in Britannia after multiple stalemate encounters where the Romans were able to win the field but unable to destroy the enemy army was all due to finally managing to get only 30 equites over from gaul after his fleet got wrecked by a storm and prevented their initial arrival.

30 dudes on horseback facilitated the mass slaughter of the fleeing enemy army and ensuing widespread burning and destruction of settlements that several legions were unable to accomplish on foot.

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀

WoodrowSkillson posted:

Just as an aside on the battle casualty figures, the victor having a lopsided amount of dead/injured is not always propaganda. In a lot of pre-gunpowder battles, the majority of casualties occur during a rout. The actual fighting is obviously dangerous and involves people getting killed, but in general when you are in ranks with your comrades, you are only at risk to a stray arrow or thrown missile unless you are actively engaged in the front rank. So a battle would be a slow burn of injuries/deaths in the front. Its only when something goes wrong, like being flanked, or that the front rank is overmatched and losing badly, that casualties mount and then get out of hand when one side breaks and then gets run down.

Like in the early modern period, pike combat was mostly not a super high casualty affair when both sides are in ranks and stabbing at each other.


But if things went sideways, it could get horribly violent with immense loss of life and they specifically called it "bad war"


To tie this to nerds again, this is (part of) what light infantry and cavalry are for, and why their combat stats suck - they’re not supposed to fight the enemy line of battle head to head. They’re supposed to turn a retreat into a rout by harrying and harassing the enemy, including at the Grant Tactical or Operational level where they accelerate in army dissolving, during the pursuit phase.

since most games don’t model, foraging scouting, securing lines of communication, delivering messages, etc. these units don’t have much use on the table top or in the Total War series. There have been several recent books saying that peltasts and other light troops were by far the most important part of Classical Greek armies, again undermined by Prussian historians projecting themselves backwards in time, with hoplites becoming the stars of the show. The Prussian disdain for light troops cost them again and again in the 18th and 19th centuries too, but they were imo addicted to orderly formations and complex parade ground manoeuvres.


CN CREW-VESSEL has issued a correction as of 15:25 on May 9, 2024

gradenko_2000
Oct 5, 2010

HELL SERPENT
Lipstick Apathy
yeah, if you're both on foot, then you're both running, and even with differences in lighter vs heavier gear and cardio, it's unlikely that troops pursuing will be able to inflict lots of casualties against troops running

if you're on a horse, then suddenly it's a lot easier to catch up to and run down a man

there are ways to defend against [charging] horses, which is then why you send your cavalry after the enemy has already been routed and wouldn't be in a position to fight back. And this is also why you have differences in cavalry, from heavy cavalry who are intended to charge against and break units that are still in fighting form, versus those dedicated to scouting, screening against enemy cavalry, and running down already-defeated enemies

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀
Which again if you look at Prussia in the 19th century, they’re not very good at raising and equipping different kinds of cavalry, or even breeding different kinds of horses.

You see this in all European militaries where the hereditary nobility goes into the heavy cavalry, and therefore the heavy cavalry is by far the most prestigious, most politically connected and most important.

Well, you have a problem when modern history as a discipline, modern military science, and obviously military history, is all developed in Prussia during that time. Light troops are considered inherently inferior and inherently low class when these disciplines begin looking at Greece, Rome, the Diadochi etc..

You can find books written until, I want to say the 1990s, where Roman auxiliaries are considered inherently worse than Roman legions, even though all evidence points to them being integral to how the Roman military functioned.

Real hurthling!
Sep 11, 2001




the social wars were such an existential threat to Rome following the punic wars precisely because they leaned on their italian auxilliary allies so heavily. they radically reformed society and soldiery to appease and integrate the Italians and rapidly growing roman lower classes into the system at the very dear cost of fatally destabilizing the republic.

Real hurthling! has issued a correction as of 16:49 on May 9, 2024

FrancisFukyomama
Feb 4, 2019

CN CREW-VESSEL posted:

Well, you have a problem when modern history as a discipline, modern military science, and obviously military history, is all developed in Prussia during that time. Light troops are considered inherently inferior and inherently low class when these disciplines begin looking at Greece, Rome, the Diadochi etc..

You can find books written until, I want to say the 1990s, where Roman auxiliaries are considered inherently worse than Roman legions, even though all evidence points to them being integral to how the Roman military functioned.

is that related to the tendency of to see the swap over to the lighter, more mobile kit of the comitatenses as a sign of institutional decline instead of an intentional adoption of new doctrine

Real hurthling!
Sep 11, 2001




practically every roman author in every genre from history to love poetry talks about how eurasian horse archers are the fastest and deadliest troops around.
i've read way too many Scythian arrow metaphors for one lifetime so its extra funny that notoriously classically obsessed krauts cant handle the truth

WoodrowSkillson
Feb 24, 2005

*Gestures at 60 years of Lions history*

CN CREW-VESSEL posted:

Which again if you look at Prussia in the 19th century, they’re not very good at raising and equipping different kinds of cavalry, or even breeding different kinds of horses.

You see this in all European militaries where the hereditary nobility goes into the heavy cavalry, and therefore the heavy cavalry is by far the most prestigious, most politically connected and most important.

Well, you have a problem when modern history as a discipline, modern military science, and obviously military history, is all developed in Prussia during that time. Light troops are considered inherently inferior and inherently low class when these disciplines begin looking at Greece, Rome, the Diadochi etc..

You can find books written until, I want to say the 1990s, where Roman auxiliaries are considered inherently worse than Roman legions, even though all evidence points to them being integral to how the Roman military functioned.

Was that extended to the allies? cause those were "auxiliaries" as well. They were not just integral, the italian allies supplied troops literally identical to a roman legionary, as well as most of the cavalry. And then there was poo poo like the Jugurthine War that had access to auxiliaries as a major component of the conflict.

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀

FrancisFukyomama posted:

is that related to the tendency of to see the swap over to the lighter, more mobile kit of the comitatenses as a sign of institutional decline instead of an intentional adoption of new doctrine

I was reading it has something to do with geometry, as in Prussian historians really liked formations and manoeuvre in terms of blocks and lines and that sort of thing. Since close order drill in the ancient and modern world was the domain of heavy infantry and cavalry, I guess a systemic understanding of war had to revolve around them?

I can go look for quotes but it seemed almost like a caricature of German orderliness and fascinating with engineering, timing, intricate mechanisms and so on.

e: I would imagine for 19th century European historians this is almost exclusively the army of the Principate in focus, since when Toynbee calculated the importance of the allies in his two volumes on the Second Punic War in the 1960's it was considered mind blowing and radical.

ee: If someone wants to take a look, I'm thinking specifically about this gigantic block of Hannibal's Legacy vol 2.

CN CREW-VESSEL has issued a correction as of 21:35 on May 9, 2024

Tulip
Jun 3, 2008

yeah thats pretty good


CN CREW-VESSEL posted:

To tie this to nerds again, this is (part of) what light infantry and cavalry are for, and why their combat stats suck - they’re not supposed to fight the enemy line of battle head to head. They’re supposed to turn a retreat into a rout by harrying and harassing the enemy, including at the Grant Tactical or Operational level where they accelerate in army dissolving, during the pursuit phase.

since most games don’t model, foraging scouting, securing lines of communication, delivering messages, etc. these units don’t have much use on the table top or in the Total War series. There have been several recent books saying that peltasts and other light troops were by far the most important part of Classical Greek armies, again undermined by Prussian historians projecting themselves backwards in time, with hoplites becoming the stars of the show. The Prussian disdain for light troops cost them again and again in the 18th and 19th centuries too, but they were imo addicted to orderly formations and complex parade ground manoeuvres.

I'm going to push back against this on several grounds.

First, we know well that light infantry did serve and function well on ancient battle lines as independent units. In the Hellenistic combat system, light infantry, most famously Cretans, would be deployed to manage a length of the line independently and generally served at this function somewhere between "fine" to "excellently." Again Cretan light infantry were a sought-after resource for all of the Hellenistic states as a valuable combat arm, not exclusively for their function off-battlefield. On a smaller scale, the Battle of Lechaeum has the (notionally) finest heavy infantry of the Classical Greeks (Spartiates) get utterly loving bodied off the field by Athenian skirmishers. The Macedonian victory at Callinicus was almost entirely down to their light infantry. And of course if we're going into gunpowder eras, light infantry were just invaluable for their ability to inflict more casualties than they took due to, well, the math of how deploying gunpowder weapons works. So for a wargame to model light infantry as 'not really intended for the battlefield' would be ungrounded in at least several eras of history, if not most of them.

Second, I think laying this exclusively at the feet of Prussian biases requires ignoring Greek and Roman biases that exist in those much older sources as well. JE Lendon talks about this at length in Soldiers & Ghosts, that the Greeks in particular had, for reasons relating to the class politics of who wrote Greek histories and sources, a dramatic bias in favor of the hoplite, above and beyond the battlefield role played by hoplites. Ancient Greeks sources tend to be written by and honestly for men from the classes that would serve as hoplites in the army, and so they write sources that describe an army as made of hoplites and its only the more careful readings of the sources that tend to even notice that these armies were always combined arms affairs and not just blocks of elite infantry. The Romans are a little less silly about this, but its definitely a bias in their sources and I think largely attributable to the fact that Romans did in fact tend to win their battles most frequently by "the Roman heavy infantry dismantle the opposing heavy infantry straight in the face while the other arms of the army do lots of delaying/pinning/countering actions to keep the heavy infantry fight an exclusively heavy infantry fight."

Anyway just because I think its interesting, I do think its interesting that Conquest: Last Argument of Kings does model one battlefield role that light units excelled at, which is screening and getting to the field first. If you read accounts of historical battles you can see that e.g. Velites are used to block maneuvering (and even vision) of the opposing army so that the heavier units can form & dress without getting assaulted. It's just one function and one part of using a combined arms set up in the ancient world, and its neat to see a game do that.

(also the whole way total war does this is stupid as gently caress, top to bottom, I hope they stick to Warhammer because at least then it makes sense that you just summon a thousand demons from a warp portal between battles)

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀
I should say that I'm basing this on Reinstating the Hoplite by Schwartz, specifically this section starting on page 13:

book posted:

RESEARCH HISTORY

The development of the hoplite phalanx

As mentioned above, warfare in antiquity is a field of research which has seen intensive activity in recent years. Modern scholarship may fairly be said to commence with German scholarship. In 1862, Hermann Köchly and Wilhelm Rüstow’s Geschichte des griechischen Kriegswesens von der ältesten Zeit bis auf Pyrrhos appeared. Hans Delbrück’s monumental four-volume Geschichte der Kriegskunst im Rahmen der politischen Geschichte was published between 1900 and 1920, and 1928 saw another major achievement of German scholarship of that period, Johannes Kromayer and Georg Veith’s Heerwesen und Kriegführung der Griechen und Römer. In these, the groundwork was laid for much of the later scholarship on the hoplite phalanx, and essentially these works defined the ‘canonical’ concept of the closed phalanx. They are, however, very much products of their time, and their focus is squarely on such topics as strategics, tactics, logistics, and army strengths. In keeping with contemporary scholarship, these scholars regarded the study of warfare in antiquity as an extension of the attempt to understand warfare scientifically, and as a result their analyses are often of a very schematic and rigid nature, despite the fact that they put the sources to good use.

In 1911, Wolfgang Helbig put forward his thesis that the closed phalanx emerged around C7m in Chalkis on Euboia. Helbig regarded the use of javelins and light-armed troops, earlier attested in, e.g., Kallinos and Tyrtaios, as inconsistent with a closed phalanx, believing Tyrtaios’ phalanx, which he dated to the second Messenian war, to be a transitional phase between wholly open fighting (as seen in the Iliad) and the hoplite phalanx. Nevertheless, Helbig failed to acknowledge the possibility of auxiliary troops aiding a closed phalanx and, crucially, the fact that the hoplites of the phalanx on the Chigi vase actually carry javelins into battle.

However, the debate over hoplite phalanxes began in earnest in 1947 with Hilda Lorimer’s article “The Hoplite Phalanx with Special Reference to the Poems of Archilochus and Tyrtaeus”. On the basis of extant Archaic poetry and archaeological finds, Lorimer argued that hoplite weapons and phalanx tactics were inseparable, dating the invention and subsequent swift introduction of hoplite arms and armour to C7e. Prior to this, she argued, there were neither hoplites nor phalanxes. The sudden invention of the arms sparked the birth of a new warrior type, who was in turn unable to function outside his chosen type of formation. Lorimer largely rejected iconographical evidence, as this in her opinion was likely influenced by the Homeric poems, while at the same time rejecting the presence of ‘hoplite’ weapons in them, on the ground that these were interpolations in the ‘original’ poems. She thus in effect acknowledged the presence of hoplitic elements in the Iliad but assuming a unitarian interpretation of Homer insisted that there were watertight partitions between the poem and the early hoplite phalanx.

This theory was challenged with the Argos grave find, excavated in 1957. Based on stylistic analyses of ceramics in the tomb, the grave was dated to C8l; yet the armour – a bronze cuirass and a conical helmet – bore a strong likeness to hoplite equipment. Anthony Snodgrass countered Lorimer’s theory with another approach: basing his arguments on the Argos grave find and the archaeological material, he proposed a longer period of gradual ('piecemeal') development of the armour, which did not immediately bring about a change in tactics. Snodgrass thus maintained that armour and tactics were not inseparable: on his interpretation, parts of the equipment were gradually adopted. The next stage was then the adoption of decidedly hoplite tactics. While Snodgrass’ assessment of the gradual adaptation is doubtlessly correct, there are certain problems with his theory: what would be the motivation for inventing pieces of equipment (above all the shield) if they were unfit for single combat?

A further analysis of the development of hoplite armour saw the light of day with J.K. Anderson’s *Military Theory and Practice in the Age of Xenophon*. Here, Anderson analysed literary sources and iconographical evidence from C5l–C4e and convincingly showed that hoplite equipment underwent a notable change towards lightness and less protection in this period: body armour such as cuirasses and greaves are often lacking on vase paintings and funerary reliefs.

Joachim Latacz’ pioneering work Kampf paränese, Kampfdarstellung und Kampfwirklichkeit in der Ilias, bei Kallinos und Tyrtaios from 1977 opened the discussion of the value of the Homeric poems for an understanding of early massed fighting. Latacz convincingly showed that despite the immediate appearance of duel-based fighting between the heroes in the Iliad, there are in fact frequent references to fighting in φάλαγγες or στίχες, i.e., ranks of warriors, arrayed behind each other and led by πρόμαχοι (warriors in the front ranks), thus interpreting the parts identified and rejected by Lorimer as an integral part of the poem. His work demonstrated that the Iliad does indeed represent early massed fighting, some of which may actually be hoplite fighting: this is not surprising, since the Homeric poems are ultimately products of an oral tradition, weaving together many layers from different historical periods. Hoplitic elements will at some point have been included in the tradition. Furthermore, Latacz demonstrated that massed fighting is not only present, but is in fact a decisive element in the Iliad. It is thus reasonable to assume that hoplite equipment was developed in response to needs perceived in such massed fighting.

Countering this, Hans van Wees has argued that phalanx in an Iliad context means a more loosely organised group of warriors, comparing the fighting to that found in primitive societies such as those in Papua New Guinea. This, however, ignores the patent references to close ranks and massed fighting which are also on display in the Iliad, as demonstrated by Latacz. The two components are essentially different and difficult or impossible to reconcile; but at any rate the presence of both must preclude the notion that the Iliad presents a homogenous and consistent image of fighting.

In an important article, Victor Davis Hanson in 1991 stressed the logical causality in matters of weapons development. He noted that while scholars agree that the reduction in armour in C5l–C4e – as shown by Anderson – reflected new strategic needs in infantry employment, “strangely they do not allow for this same phenomenon in reverse chronological order: the preference (well before 700–650 bc) for massing shock troops in close formation led to demands by combatants for new, heavier equipment.”

Hans van Wees has presented his view of an extreme ‘piecemeal’ theory in an article from 2000. According to van Wees, the crucial evidence is iconographical, showing a motley crew of combatants on the battlefield, fighting in no particular order. This development, according to van Wees, possibly did not halt until after the Persian wars, and he maintains that Archaic poetry and even Herodotos show similar signs of loose-order combat. He takes this to be a natural continuation of the loose-order, chaotic fighting which he sees in the Iliad and to which he finds parallels in primitive societies. There are several problems with this approach, chief among which the objection that this presupposes a homogenous and consistent Homeric portrayal of society and warfare. Furthermore, it is difficult to argue chiefly from iconography, since we cannot always be certain that we can appreciate the artist’s intentions and the operative artistic conventions. Very recently, van Wees has also further expounded these views in a monograph with the telling title Greek Warfare. Myths and Realities, in which he offers a synthesis of the above-mentioned and a number of other articles.

and then there are more references to Germans, including the core idea "One German scholar after another, driven by their primary interest in tactical forms and battle narratives, stressed that the disciplined hoplite and his well-ordered phalanx were the essential features of Greek warfare and the highest achievements of Greek military prowess... " in Brill’s Companion to Greek Land Warfare Beyond the Phalanx starting on page 1:

other book posted:

When we think about Greek warfare, we tend to think about the hoplite. The word conjures a specific image: a spearman decked out in bronze armor, carrying an iconic round double-grip shield and crested helmet, marching and fighting in a tightly ordered formation—the phalanx. While there may be other types of fighters around this hoplite phalanx, they are the periphery to his center. We can see this hoplite take pride of place in recent volumes on Greek warfare with titles like Reinstating the Hoplite, The Psychology of the Athenian Hoplite, A Storm of Spears, Men of Bronze, and Hoplites at War, all of which focus on understanding the hoplite as the key to understanding Greek warfare. Indeed, one of the most influential edited volumes in the subfield is simply titled Hoplites: The Classical Greek Battle Experience. We see the same iconic warrior all over representations of the ancient Greek world in popular media, from films like 300 and games like Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey (2018) to a steady stream of historical novels, popular historical accounts, graphic novels, and YouTube videos on the wars of the Greeks in general and the Spartans in particular.

In both the scholarly and the popular understanding, the hoplite is uniquely Greek. The 'phalanx' way of fighting is treated as a particular feature of warfare in the central mainland area of what is now the Hellenic Republic; there is little interest in Anatolia or northern Greece, the islands, or Italy. Besides the more recent works listed above, classic works in the field have emphasized a universalizing 'Greek' way of war, for example, the five volumes of The Greek State at War by W.K. Pritchett and Greek Warfare: Myths and Realities by Hans van Wees. The assumption is that there is a particular Greek way of war, and that this Greek way of war was hoplite warfare. This notion is also central to the holistic 'orthodoxy' or 'grand narrative' of Greek warfare, which posits that the rise of the hoplite was fundamental to the rise of Greek society and culture in all its facets—in other words, that the hoplite was uniquely Greek, and by his existence he made Greece uniquely important and interesting to us today.

There is a problem at the center of this narrative, one that is too often ignored in scholarship: the modern use of 'hoplite' and 'phalanx' has granted them a technical and even ethnic definition that they did not have in the ancient world. When we use the word 'hoplite' to mean something specifically Greek, we use it in a way that would be alien to Herodotos, who used it for a Persian at Marathon; it would be alien also to Xenophon, who used it to describe Assyrians and Egyptians. In the surviving literary evidence, the term emerged far later than a putative 'hoplite revolution' ca. 700—its earliest attestation is in the early fifth-century poetry of Pindaros and Aischylos—to describe a generic warrior armed exclusively for close combat. Meanwhile, 'phalanx' seems to have had no technical meaning in the Homeric epics, where it is first used as a metaphor for massed infantry. It occurs in the plural to describe separate groups of men; it is not accompanied by any vocabulary that suggests these are ordered formations. The few scattered uses of 'phalanx' in Archaic poetry all follow the Homeric pattern (e.g., Tyrtaios Fr. 12.21). Moreover, the term does not occur in the battle descriptions of authors like Herodotos or Thucydides, whose works are of fundamental importance to any study of Greek warfare. The word 'phalanx' does not function as a specific military term until the fourth century, when Xenophon began to use it to indicate the battle line of massed heavy infantry. The words 'hoplite' and 'phalanx' do not appear together until the fourth century. Scholarship has assigned to these words a specificity that they did not originally have. In modern scholarship, 'hoplite phalanx' is an exclusive term; in the ancient world, hoplitēs and phalanx were each used more broadly. So where does the idea of the hoplite phalanx as the defining feature of a uniquely Greek warfare come from?

There are a few prominent reasons for the field’s intense focus on mainland Greece, on hoplites, and on hoplite battle. Firstly, since the bulk of our literary evidence concerns Athens and Sparta, it is not surprising to find classicists and ancient historians preoccupied with those communities; since most of the surviving texts date to the Classical period, scholarship naturally privileges this period, when hoplites undeniably formed the core of all Greek armies. Secondly, the sources themselves sometimes suggest that the hoplite was the central figure, not only of

Greek warfare, but also of the socio-political development of Greek society as a whole. The speech that Mardonios used to persuade Xerxes to invade mainland Greece, in particular, has often been taken at face value as a frank assessment of the Greek way of war: Greeks settled their conflicts with a single decisive engagement between heavy infantry on level ground. Later authors offer much detail on the organization and importance of hoplite formations, but they rarely discuss other warriors in detail. The hoplite completely dominates art and literature of the Classical period as the generic citizen warrior. Meanwhile, Aristotle already theorized that the mounted aristocracies of early Greece were supplanted by broader-based systems of government when hoplites grew in number, got organized, and began to assert their power. Passages like these not only inspired an image of Greek warfare as hoplite warfare, but also encouraged the formulation of wider theories in which hoplites shaped socio-political systems and defined the values of Greek culture.

The origins of this model in modern scholarship lie in George Grote’s History of Greece (1846–1856), which noted that the link between hoplite equipment and social class affected the political development of Greek states. Following Aristotle, Grote suggested that political power followed the rise of the hoplite to military supremacy, broadening the base of Greek systems of government and imbuing citizen hoplites with an egalitarian ethos. Within a decade, Grote’s work had been translated into German, inspiring many new studies on Greek antiquity including a branch of scholarship dedicated to warfare in particular. The earliest German handbook on Greek warfare saw the phalanx of citizen hoplites as the cornerstone of Greek military methods and presented the fifth century as the era of ‘pure hoplite battle’. One German scholar after another, driven by their primary interest in tactical forms and battle narratives, stressed that the disciplined hoplite and his well-ordered phalanx were the essential features of Greek warfare and the highest achievements of Greek military prowess until Epameinondas of Thebes unleashed his tactical innovations in the second quarter of the fourth century. Athenian and Spartan models of military organization provided templates that were assumed to apply throughout the Greek world; surviving accounts of pitched battles apparently justified the tendency to dismiss non-hoplite warriors as irrelevant and ineffective.

The first works on naval warfare, cavalry, and light troops did not affect the broad narrative of these general studies. Greek warfare came to be characterized as a contest between citizen-hoplites, who fought rule-bound battles on level ground over limited stakes. The notion of ‘hoplite warfare’ was born. Unlike some broader German historical surveys in the mold of Grote, however, early studies of military history rarely credited the rise of the hoplite phalanx with political and cultural significance. Heavily reliant on philological material, some of the early works on Greek warfare declared that the warfare of the Archaic period could not be reconstructed from the fragmentary evidence, while others adhered to Karl Otfried Müller’s view that a different style of infantry warfare prevailed in the Dorian parts of the Greek world until after the Persian Wars. Some even suggested a more gradual emergence of phalanx tactics that was not completed until the fifth century. Such interpretations precluded the notion that ‘hoplite warfare’ had been essential to the development of Greek civilization from its early origins to its Classical form. Max Weber may have anticipated a century of scholarship with his sweeping socio-economic model in which the arrival of hoplite armor brought about the rise of ‘hoplite poleis’ dominated by ‘citizen-peasant hoplite forces’, but historians of warfare do not seem to have noticed. Around the same time, however, other scholars were independently arriving at similar conclusions. As more iconographic and archaeological material came to be studied, the view became commonplace that hoplite armor (and the phalanx tactics that were assumed to be a prerequisite for its effective use) had spread rapidly throughout the Greek world from the first half of the seventh century onwards, completely transforming the way wars were fought. Links were soon drawn between this technological and tactical transformation early Archaic demographic and economic growth, and the appearance of the first codified laws and constitutions.

I'll try to find the book (blue cover, if that helps?) with the detailed descriptions of Prussian military thought and specifically the focus on formation, manoeuvre, and drill, and how that influenced the historiography here. I did just finish a book on 19th century German classical education, I'll go back and check to see what it says about military matters.

All of which to say, I'm not disputing the actual importance of light troops, I'm just relaying their sidelining because of the quirk of history where the focus on geometry as the core of linear gunpowder warfare was at its height in Prussia when those same Prussians started theorizing on the Greek and Roman militaries.

CN CREW-VESSEL has issued a correction as of 22:23 on May 9, 2024

sullat
Jan 9, 2012

gradenko_2000 posted:

code:
https://twitter.com/Helenreflects/status/1787281107391533445

Mary Beard covered this lady on her podcast, as well as a few other random Romans that we have documents about. The tax collector one is my favorite personally.

Falukorv
Jun 23, 2013

A funny little mouse!
How did i miss that Beard has a podcast?

Pistol_Pete
Sep 15, 2007

Oven Wrangler

CN CREW-VESSEL posted:


All of which to say, I'm not disputing the actual importance of light troops, I'm just relaying their sidelining because of the quirk of history where the focus on geometry as the core of linear gunpowder warfare was at its height in Prussia when those same Prussians started theorizing on the Greek and Roman militaries.

Yeah, during the period where battles were largely a case of massed bodies of musketeers lining up and shooting at each other, there was a huge advantage to being able to deploy in formation quicker and more efficiently than the other side, 'cos you could start firing while they were still getting their poo poo together. I read a biography of Frederick the Great and was struck by how much effort he personally put into developing and testing battlefield drills that would get his armies into position as fast as humanly possible.

Tulip
Jun 3, 2008

yeah thats pretty good


CN CREW-VESSEL posted:

I should say that I'm basing this on Reinstating the Hoplite by Schwartz, specifically this section starting on page 13:

and then there are more references to Germans, including the core idea "One German scholar after another, driven by their primary interest in tactical forms and battle narratives, stressed that the disciplined hoplite and his well-ordered phalanx were the essential features of Greek warfare and the highest achievements of Greek military prowess... " in Brill’s Companion to Greek Land Warfare Beyond the Phalanx starting on page 1:

I'll try to find the book (blue cover, if that helps?) with the detailed descriptions of Prussian military thought and specifically the focus on formation, manoeuvre, and drill, and how that influenced the historiography here. I did just finish a book on 19th century German classical education, I'll go back and check to see what it says about military matters.

All of which to say, I'm not disputing the actual importance of light troops, I'm just relaying their sidelining because of the quirk of history where the focus on geometry as the core of linear gunpowder warfare was at its height in Prussia when those same Prussians started theorizing on the Greek and Roman militaries.

Ah, OK, my bad, it seems like you were talking about a historiographical issue that was related but not quite the same as the one I was concerned with. This is very cool! I do still sometimes run into the idea of "unsupported phalanxes" - JE Lendon for example thinks that there was a period of unsupported phalanxes at the early part of our historical records of ancient Greece that gave way to a more combined arms approach.

The Prussians specifically have not been a focus of mine, I've been getting a bit more into Rome/Greece the last couple years, though I did recently read The Cutting Off Way and that would be a nice comparison to the Prussian Approach (the basic summary of The Cutting Off Way is that it describes warfare systems of the Northeastern Woodlands of North America during the 1600s and 1700s, which is probably some of the least heavy infantry friendly combat you'll find before exploding shells were generally adopted).

Pistol_Pete posted:

Yeah, during the period where battles were largely a case of massed bodies of musketeers lining up and shooting at each other, there was a huge advantage to being able to deploy in formation quicker and more efficiently than the other side, 'cos you could start firing while they were still getting their poo poo together. I read a biography of Frederick the Great and was struck by how much effort he personally put into developing and testing battlefield drills that would get his armies into position as fast as humanly possible.

In the (really good! and open source!) "Reconstructing the Battle of Pydna" this was the authors' hypothesis per Livy about what happened to the Macedonian Leukaspides (White-Shields, half of the Macedonian's pike strength) - they were unable to form up in good order before II Legio crashed into them.

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀
I hope you like long passages, because I can synthesize the two above, "The Prussian Model of Hoplite Battle" by Roel Konijnendijk in Classical Greek Tactics: A Cultural History

book posted:

The Prussians

Like most aspects of the ancient world, the serious academic study of Greek military history, including the critical philological treatment of the texts as well as the systematic analysis of the evidence, began with a group of German scholars writing from the middle of the nineteenth to the early twentieth century. They provided the foundation upon which all later scholarship, consciously or unconsciously, was built.

In what follows, I will refer to this group collectively as 'the Prussians'. This designation is not strictly accurate; while many of them were born in Prussia, most of their writings were published in the days of the German Empire and the Weimar Republic. But the word has appropriate connotations. For the purposes of this study, it cannot be overemphasized that these authors were men of considerable military education and experience. Both Wilhelm Rüstow and Georg Veith were retired high-ranking army officers. Hans Delbrück, a veteran of the Franco-Prussian War and author of a three-volume history of 'the art of war', was the personal tutor of a Prussian prince. Edmund Lammert, too, was drafted for the Franco-Prussian War; Hans Droysen volunteered for it. This background deeply influenced their perspective on ancient history as well as their intentions in writing about it. Johannes Kromayer insisted it would be impossible for anyone to understand Greek warfare without thorough knowledge of both the source material and the actual business of war. Rüstow and his associate Hermann Köchly explicitly meant for their work to be instructive not just to historians and philologists, but to soldiers most of all.

Their military mindset is clearly reflected in their works. These authors understood Greek warfare primarily as one form, one expression, of the timeless realities of war. Casual analogies with Prussian practice abound. They helped to visualize equipment and tactics, to provide comparative cases of specific battle plans and troop types, and to build arguments where information from the sources was lacking. Prussian military standards informed these scholars' reconstructions of anything from possible running distances in full gear to the course of entire campaigns. Delbrück’s advice for the struggling student of the ancients was 'to study Clausewitz, again and again only Clausewitz, until he has understood Thucydides'.

Land battles and battle tactics were these authors' main interest. Several of them openly admitted they were ignorant of naval affairs and had consequently ignored the subject. Chapters on siege warfare—if any were offered—served chiefly to stress how little the Greeks understood of it. Of all these scholars, only Rüstow and Köchly delved into the earliest origins of warfare in Greece and its connection to the development of state and society. Through these deliberate choices, they ruthlessly cut down the subject of Greek warfare to the elements they regarded as worthy of record. Presented in seemingly immutable order, these were weaponry, troop types, unit drill, and tactical developments.

Inevitably, their interpretation of these elements was shaped by their professional military focus. They based their assumptions on file width and marching formations on their own army experience. Several of them insisted on describing in exhaustive detail what is known of Greek unit drill and formation evolutions. Even though they could not establish any clear connection between the various forms of drill and the way Greek battles were actually fought, they still took formation drill to be of crucial importance—so much so that several of them took the existence of such training in cities other than Sparta for granted, despite the complete absence of evidence. They seem to have been unwilling or unable to imagine a form of warfare so primitive as to lack this feature, regardless of what the sources may have implied. The Prussians were aware that the depth of the phalanx differed according to circumstance, but Rüstow and Köchly asserted that it must have had a standard depth of eight ranks; after all, the execution of formation evolutions demanded it. All known alternative depths were therefore dismissed. Delbrück protested that the standard of eight ranks was 'arbitrary'—no such standard was ever established by the Greeks—but even he conceded in the end that eight ranks must have been the norm.

These authors tended to describe ancient battles in the terms of the contemporary military academy—terms like 'battalion', 'defensive wing', and 'concentration of force'. In this way, they demonstrated how the Greeks 'had already mastered all the fundamental concepts of waging war' as early as the battle of Marathon. Yet the casual equation of ancient with modern practice did not always lead them to such optimistic conclusions. While all authors agreed that Greek light troops and horsemen proved highly effective against hoplites in several notable engagements, they still ultimately tended to dismiss the actions of these troops as 'of no meaning whatsoever' because the correct modern tactics for their use in open battle could not be discerned in the sources. There was a clear desire to see the standards of then-current military theory reflected in the ancient world—nowhere more poignantly illustrated than in Rüstow and Köchly’s attempt to reconstruct the textbook deployment of chariots and infantry in Homer.

This was the basis on which the Prussians defined their concept of Greek warfare. Their military background was not an incidental personal circumstance; it permeated their every thought and theory. It could not fail to influence their view of the development of Classical Greek approaches to battle.

In a rare case of general agreement, the authors all divided this development into three distinct phases. The first of these ran from the time of the Persian invasions down to the end of the Peloponnesian War. The Prussians believed the warfare of the Archaic period to be either beyond reconstruction, or to be of a different nature than that of the Classical age; either viewpoint excluded it from their studies of phalanx battle. Neither did they regard the Peloponnesian War itself as a catalyst of tactical change. It taught the Greeks the beginnings of strategy and year-round campaigning, and it triggered an explosion in the use of specialist mercenaries, but it caused no alterations in the basic tactics of battle. It was just another part of the first phase.

This period, then, was the age of 'the tactics of pure hoplite battle'. It was envisioned as a time when little could interfere with the parallel deployment and advance of hoplite phalanxes. The Greeks fought only 'small wars of rivalry', in which battles were tests of strength, not attempts at annihilation; the Prussians saw no evidence of combined arms tactics or pursuit. There was no maneuver; light troops and cavalry played no part or canceled each other out; the clash of hoplites decided the battle. In Lammert’s view, Greek warfare was governed by 'single-mindedness, prejudice, and templates'—egalitarian armies 'wrestled with each other like two athletes without any tricks or feints'. Droysen and Delbrück appear to have chafed at this simplified overall picture, but they did not offer any alternative models. All authors contributed to the construction of the 'template', the 'typical' hoplite battle: a step-by-step account of phalanx fighting, seen as the central feature of Greek war.

This account is a peculiar creature. Several of the Prussians acknowledged that units within a phalanx had a reasonable degree of autonomy, that the deployment and depth of the phalanx could vary, and that generals must have made their battle plans in advance. They also acknowledged the importance of non-hoplite support troops, at least from the Peloponnesian War onward. However, in their descriptions of the typical battle, these caveats are nowhere to be found. In their model, the phalanx was a single homogenous force. It fought alone. Its best troops were always deployed on the right. Both phalanxes drew to the right as they advanced; both right wings consequently outflanked and routed the troops stationed over against them. After this, the two victorious right wings turned to confront each other, and this second clash decided the outcome of the battle.

This final element of the model is a clear imposition on the sources. A second encounter of this kind is seen exclusively at the battle of Koroneia, an engagement Xenophon considered unique. Yet the Prussians built their model of phalanx warfare on the notion that every single hoplite battle was resolved in this way. Perhaps the only explanation for their claim is that the logic of their model demanded it; if the initial clash resulted in partial victories for both sides, it follows that some kind of continuation must have occurred in order to establish the real winner. This continuation was therefore assumed in spite of the ancients’ actual accounts. In the process, the Prussians enshrined Pausanias’ assertion that the Spartans did not pursue routed enemies because they were afraid to lose the cohesion of their hoplite line; it gave a neat tactical rationale for the perceived Greek habit of allowing beaten enemies to flee. The rule was by necessity made to apply to all Greeks. Only a phalanx that maintained close order after the first encounter could win the day.

Why did the Prussians define Greek battle as such a restricted affair? Certainly, we cannot accuse them of ignorance. The authors’ astounding knowledge of the Greek literary evidence and their extensive reconstructions of actual battles did not lead them to reconsider their model, despite the fact that there is little in the sources to confirm it. Neither did the model arise out of respect for some idealized Greek way of war; Delbrück stressed not only that their tactics had glaring weaknesses, but that the Greeks themselves were aware of those weaknesses. Pupils of Clausewitz could hardly be brought to admire a form of warfare in which neither side appeared willing or able to annihilate the other. I would suggest instead that the Prussians intended to reduce Greek warfare to a minimum set of standard forms, a model that appeared to accommodate all the evidence, even if it matched none.

This benchmark model was necessary to illuminate the impact of two great revolutions—the second and third phase in the development of hoplite tactics.

The second phase was marked by the Ten Thousand’s return to Greece. The story of this mercenary army is packed with innovations; it shows a hoplite phalanx subdivided into small, flexible units, supplemented by missile troops and horsemen, together forming a combined-arms force responding to its desperate situation with an apparently unprecedented readiness to depart from tradition. The Prussians credited Xenophon with the invention of supporting flank guards for the phalanx, tactical mobility, reserve units, even 'manipular tactics'—all the elements of the later Macedonian and Roman ways of war. These new methods embodied a potential overthrow of the old ways of hoplite armies in battle. Yet they did not catch on in Greece. The Prussians believed the reason was simple: these irregular tactics would have been ineffective against an advancing phalanx. They had no place in wars of Greek against Greek.

In their view, the real problem holding back the development of Greek warfare was the fact that there was no satisfactory way to subvert the template of phalanx battle. Since phalanx battle was Greek warfare’s central truth, Xenophon’s tactics, however brilliant, altered nothing. Greek approaches to pitched battle remained essentially unaltered for most of the Classical period. When change finally came, this marked the beginning of the third phase—the final stage of development, the tactical revolution. Its champion was Epameinondas. To him we will return.

It goes on, there's about 60 pages on the Prussians, and several hundred on Greek tactics, which always refer back to them in some way.

There's a large section on how American historians in the 1950's and 60's "for some reason" started borrowing heavily from German military thought, and so that's when this idea of Greek warfare really solidified itself in English language history, which is hilarious in a way because this is probably the most benign example of that phenomenon.

War and Pieces
Apr 24, 2022

DID NOT VOTE FOR FETTERMAN

Drunkboxer posted:

idk about Ursula since she’s just a cartoon version of Devine but yeah the others are obvious

libs are not ready for the drag is minstrelry conversation

Real hurthling!
Sep 11, 2001




saw a guy parking a porsche with the vanity plate: 79 AD so i expected this to be some "fortune favors the bold" quipping pliny the elder cosplayer but when i said "like Vesuvius?" as i walked by and pointed at the car he ignored me so its probably just his birthday and initials or hes too cool for pedestrian captain obvious idk.

A Buttery Pastry
Sep 4, 2011

Delicious and Informative!
:3:

Real hurthling! posted:

saw a guy parking a porsche with the vanity plate: 79 AD so i expected this to be some "fortune favors the bold" quipping pliny the elder cosplayer but when i said "like Vesuvius?" as i walked by and pointed at the car he ignored me so its probably just his birthday and initials or hes too cool for pedestrian captain obvious idk.
he was right to ignore you. who goes for Vesuvius, when that's the year Vespasian died of diarrhea?

Cerebral Bore
Apr 21, 2010


Fun Shoe
the year of the two fatal eruptions

mycomancy
Oct 16, 2016

Cerebral Bore posted:

the year of the two fatal eruptions

Lmao

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀

Cerebral Bore posted:

the year of the two fatal eruptions

Azathoth
Apr 3, 2001

Cerebral Bore posted:

the year of the two fatal eruptions

Some Guy TT
Aug 30, 2011

In his Decretum, a tenth-century manual on canon law, Bishop Burchard of Worms directed priests to ask female parishioners if they had inserted live fish into their vaginas and kept them there “for a while” until they were dead, then cooked and fed them to their husbands to stimulate passion. He prescribed two years of penance on the appropriate fast days for a woman who had done this. Medieval theologians took the insatiable lusts of women very seriously: as a friend pointed out, the procedure was apparently considered two thirds as bad as accidentally killing one’s baby, which is discussed two items down in the Decretum, for which three years of penance were prescribed.

In The Once and Future Sex, Eleanor Janega notes that the likelihood of medieval women having performed such a maneuver is “probably low…no matter how lacking their sex lives might have been.” Did Burchard believe it was a common practice? It is hard to understand the mechanics, just for starters. His Decretum was based on earlier sources, so he might have carried his stipulation to priests across from his exemplar unthinkingly, but medieval theologians were often concerned that ecclesiastics could put novel ideas of sin into parishioners’ heads during confession. For the question to have been asked, a husband’s being served an ill-used fish had to have been a legitimate concern.

Janega’s book is wide-ranging—she takes something of a trawler net approach to the Middle Ages, covering a big area but not always managing to supply details or nuance. She illustrates, often hilariously, the ways women were oppressed, as indeed they were before and have been since, though the particular flavor of oppression has changed. In the medieval era, as now, women were expected to live up to impossible standards of beauty and were defined as “scientifically” different from men, even if the ideas of female beauty and biology were not the same. Janega also argues that women’s work was overlooked in the Middle Ages, as it is today. This is a claim that might irk some medievalists.

Burchard, like many medieval thinkers, thought of women as “sex-addled” and “insatiable in their demands.” In this, Janega argues, “the medieval concept of women’s sexuality looks almost nothing like ours, except that it was considered wrong.” In his Etymologies—a seventh-century encyclopedia explaining human knowledge using (spurious) word origins—Isidore of Seville tells us that “the word femina [woman] comes from the Greek derived from the force of fire because her concupiscence is very passionate: women are more libidinous than men.” About two hundred years earlier, Saint Jerome likewise asserted that “women’s love is…insatiable; put it out, it bursts into flame; give it plenty, it is again in need.” A Latin poem from thirteenth-century northern France or England advises men not to marry and describes the average woman thus:

quote:

Her lustful loins are never stilled
By just one man she’s unfulfilled
She’ll spread her legs to all the men
But, ever hungry, won’t say “When.”

According to the humoral theory that underpinned much medieval thought, women were cold, wet creatures who gravitated toward men, who were hot and dry. In this, women were thought to be similar to cold-blooded animals like snakes that seek the heat emanating from humans. A thirteenth-century medical treatise took this idea a step further, stating that since women are inherently bad (what with the whole debacle involving Eve and the apple), a woman has a “greater desire for coitus than a man, for something foul is drawn to the good.”

Many medieval writers seem to have agreed on what made these horny creatures sexually attractive to men. Texts that describe the appearance of the ideal woman have a lot in common. A number of them describe her as having blond hair, white skin, swelling lips, white teeth, and good breath. These qualities are depressingly familiar from our own day. But some aspects of medieval female beauty may surprise us. Thin, dark eyebrows and high foreheads were prized; the Roman de la rose praised women with “small mouths.” Geoffrey of Vinsauf was especially taken with a “neck like a white marble column,” while other writers compared the ideal neck to that of a swan, heron, or antelope. Matthew of Vendôme praised “dainty” and “modest” breasts, a view shared by Guillaume de Machaut, who liked them “white, firm, high-seated/pointed, round,” but—importantly—“small enough.” In Troilus and Criseyde, Chaucer describes Criseyde’s “brestes rounde and lite” (as well as her “armes smale” and her “sydes longe”). As for the belly, Matthew of Vendôme would have been horrified by the gym-sculpted abs many today prize, instead praising the ideal of a “luscious little belly” that protruded.

As in the twenty-first century, in the Middle Ages the physical attributes considered beautiful were indices of wealth. A little potbelly meant you had leisure time, just as milky white skin meant you did not labor outdoors. In the thirteenth-century Old French Roman de silence, there is a scene in which a beautiful woman uses the juices of a plant to give herself a fake tan and disguise herself as a man of “low station.” Today, the converse among white people is a sign of being upper-class—tanned skin suggests leisure hours spent in sunny climes.

Some writers showed an awareness of female sexual anatomy that might surprise modern readers. As far back as the thirteenth century at least one of them, Pietro d’Abano, had noticed the existence of the clitoris: he wrote that women could be aroused by having the upper orifice near their pubis rubbed; in this way the indiscreet, or curious [curiosi] bring them to orgasm. For the pleasure that can be obtained from this part of the body is comparable to that obtained from the tip of the penis.

The eleventh-century Persian philosopher and physician Ibn Sina—known in the medieval West as Avicenna—wrote that men should caress a woman’s “breasts and pubis, and enfold their partners in their arms, without really performing the act.” This last clause reminds us that although some medieval men appeared to understand the mechanics of female pleasure, they nonetheless thought that the point of sex—the main “act”—was penetration, hopefully leading to procreation. Some writers suggested that for a woman to conceive she had to experience pleasure, which is heartening, but Janega justly cautions that this could have “dehumanizing consequences,” because it was thought that sex workers were “incapable of pleasure and driven solely by an interest in money” and could not become pregnant. The biological fathers of infants born to sex workers could thereby absolve themselves of responsibility for their children.

Janega’s final chapter on women’s work is a feast of beguiling detail. Here the lives of ordinary women surface from the records in a way that is sometimes impossible in the earlier chapters on beauty and biology, where most sources are the literary and philosophical writings of a learned male elite. We’re told, for example, that in 1327 Alice de Brightenoch and Lucy de Pykeringe were sentenced to jail time for theft: both women allowed people to bake bread in their ovens for a fee, but they “falsely, wickedly, and maliciously” stole from their neighbors by siphoning off dough through a hole in a table, beneath which an accomplice was stationed.

Here the argument is that women “were working at every level of society alongside or in partnership with men—and received almost no credit for doing so.” This is a large claim that I don’t really go along with. The picture is surely more complex. In her brilliant recent biography of Chaucer’s Wife of Bath, Marion Turner notes, for example, that there were new economic opportunities for women in the aftermath of the Black Death in Europe, when their right to trade as femmes sole was formalized, allowing them to run businesses, train apprentices, and take care of their own taxes. In other words, women were working for themselves.

When women did work in partnerships with men, it is hard to know if they were given credit for what they did. So it pays to follow the money and examine transfers of property after death. Barbara Hanawalt’s work on peasant families in medieval England reveals that 65 percent of men made their wives executors. As she observes, “Most men leaving wills, therefore, trusted their wives to raise a family of young children and run both the house and lands.”

That surely suggests confidence in what women could do. The same was probably true in other social classes. In 1448 the Norfolk gentrywoman Margaret Paston wrote to her husband in London and asked him to buy “1lb of almonds,” “1lb of sugar,” and “some cloth for gowns,” as well as “two or three short poleaxes” and “some crossbows.” She had been left behind on the family’s estates to raise the children, run the manors, and protect the properties from attack.

Of course, even if wives had a degree of economic power and were valued by their husbands, that does not mean all women’s work was valued, especially that of women at the fringes of society. Sex work was disapproved of but still permitted in some law codes. Some writers even felt it was necessary. Both Augustine and Aquinas wrote that if sex work did not exist, men would have too much pent-up sexual energy, especially in urban areas, which could lead to rioting and violence.

In London sex workers had to wear a special striped hood and were forbidden to live in the city itself. A statute of 1393 stated that they should “keep themselves to the places thereunto assigned, this is to say, the Stews [bathhouse brothels] on the other side of [the river] Thames, and Cokkeslane.” Janega writes that sex workers found outside the Stews risked being “stripped to their waist” as a “powerful form of public shaming,” though the Anglo-Norman source doesn’t seem to say this. It states that a woman would have to forfeit the “garnyment q[u]ele use per le dessus et le chaperon”—“the upper garment she shall be wearing, together with her hood.” “Garnyment” can mean “garment,” but it seems most often to mean an outer layer—the Middle English and Anglo-Norman dictionaries define it variously as “a coat, cloak, gown”—as well as armor or riding gear. So it appears more likely that the women, rather than risking public shame, stood to lose the cloaks and hoods that advertised them as sex workers, thereby temporarily impeding their ability to work.

Janega also writes that when sex workers died they could not be buried in consecrated ground. I failed to find a source to support this idea. She cites the example of Crossbones Graveyard in London, which is a cemetery on the south bank of the Thames in an area where brothels were situated in the medieval period. But there is no archaeological evidence that the graveyard itself is medieval, and the first mention of it in written sources is by the antiquarian John Stow in 1598. Stow was a great collector and preserver of medieval manuscripts, so he is often a useful authority, but his sourcing of the information in this case amounts to vague hearsay:
I have heard of ancient men, of good credit, report, that these single women were forbidden the rites of the church, so long as they continued that sinful life, and were excluded from Christian burial, if they were not reconciled before their death.

The Once and Future Sex is great fun; I often snorted aloud while reading it. Janega’s discussion is joyously broad, but she skitters in places rather than digging down. “Women’s infidelity was a much larger concern than men’s,” she observes. Katherine Harvey’s 2021 The Fires of Lust: Sex in the Middle Ages adds nuance here. Harvey cites multiple examples from law codes that show how women were punished for adultery, yet she notes that court records from northern France and Flanders reveal that adulterous men, not women, were more often punished publicly:

quote:

In Arras (1328), five times as many men were fined for adultery, and in Tournai (1470) fourteen times as many men were punished. In late medieval Ghent, Bruges, and Ypres, the ratio for adultery convictions was approximately 80:20 male to female.

The Once and Future Sex is not aimed at an academic audience. Literary scholars will not be surprised that “by analyzing literature, we can learn about the cultures of a period, what people considered important, and what made them tick.” Many would dispute the description of the Roman de la rose as a “novel” or the Middle English poem Pearl as an “epic.” There are several of these infelicities. Janega states that Alison, the protagonist of Chaucer’s “Miller’s Tale,” is “a woman who is willing to have sex with her suitor in a washing tub.” If Chaucer had described sex in a washtub, I would consider it my civic duty to quote it, but the text is clear: three tubs used for kneading bread hang from the ceiling, and once Alison’s husband is safely asleep in one of them (part of a scheme to enable the adultery), she and her suitor get out of theirs and steal off: “Doun of the laddre stalketh Nicholay, And Alisoun ful softe adoun she spedde;/Withouten wordes mo they goon to bedde.” (“Down the ladder stalks Nicholas and Alison softly sped down; without words they go to bed.”) There they engage in the “bisynesse of myrthe and of solas,/Til that the belle of laudes gan to rynge” (“task of mirth and of solace/Till the bell of morning rang out”).

These are small details. Does it matter for the book’s argument that Nicholas and Alison were not in a washing tub? Does it matter that Pearl—a jewellike poem about grief—is recast as an epic? Almost certainly not, but there are places where this highly readable book opts for generalization over particularity, such as the suggestion that The Canterbury Tales is “a compendium of anecdotes about what was wrong with women.” That’s a view that omits “The Knight’s Tale,” with its idealized presentation of Emelye, or “The Franklin’s Tale,” in which a woman loves her husband so much that she prepares to kill herself when she is wooed by an unwanted suitor and then lists a catalog of twenty-one other faithful women from history and mythology who have stayed similarly true.
This kind of reductiveness risks telling a blanket story of oppression. One example deserves unpacking. In a section on life at court, Janega writes that
women’s expected duties included carrying the lady of the house’s train as she made her way to chapel and helping with embroidery. The men’s might include being called to war or sent on diplomatic missions.

It’s a passage that doesn’t ring true. Juxtaposing embroidery with diplomacy and war and thereby casting it as something boring and contained repeats a tired patriarchal categorization of art forms that consigns needlework to irrelevance precisely because it was often practiced by women.
A single work sees off this idea: the famous Bayeux Tapestry is a 230-foot piece of embroidery depicting the events leading up to the Norman Conquest of England in 1066. It depicts, as a recent work put it, “political intrigue, extreme violence [and] graphic nudity.”

This is stitchwork that is big and sexy and political; it was most likely made by female artisans. Janega’s characterization here is at odds with what she says elsewhere in the book. “Medieval Europeans regarded embroidery as an art,” she writes, citing the early Irish law code Bretha im Fhuillemu Gell, which states that “the woman who embroiders earns more profit even than queens.” Why treat it with flippancy elsewhere?

Her depiction of court women as creatures consigned to a life of sad train-carrying also feels misplaced. On February 20, 1440, Helene Kottanner, a servant of Queen Elizabeth of Hungary, took part in an audacious plan to secure the succession by smuggling the Hungarian crown out of the stronghold of Visegrád in a pillow. The crown was placed onto a sled and rushed to the queen; within hours of its arrival she gave birth to a baby boy, Ladislaus the Posthumous, who was crowned king of Hungary three months later. Kottanner almost certainly did carry her lady’s train and help with embroidery, but she also engineered a coup during a political crisis and recounted it afterward in a memoir.

And it wasn’t only men who were “called to war or sent on diplomatic missions.” In a later part of the book Janega discusses Eleanor of Aquitaine, who negotiated with Pope Innocent II on her husband’s behalf and went on the Second Crusade. Janega might just as well have pointed to Urraca, the twelfth-century queen of Castile, described by multiple sources as “a leader of armies” in battles she had with Moorish forces, rebellious magnates, and her estranged husband, Alfonso el Batallador (Alfonso the Battler). Of course, these women were royal, so their experiences were unusual, but such examples are also important.

As a reader of history, I don’t just want to read about drudgery and discrimination; I want to read about the women who gamed the patriarchal system as well. As a historian, I believe feminist history is at its best when it is twofold—delineating structures of oppression but also not allowing our own patriarchal biases to restrict our view, making us assume that women were voiceless and powerless just because traditional histories of the period haven’t thought their endeavors worth discussing.

Janega is doing something important. To make the Middle Ages—a period so widely misunderstood—legible and exciting is vital work. My hunch is that historians do a disservice to the general reader when they shun complexity in favor of broad-brush abstractions, because the delight is in the detail. What specialist or nonspecialist is not enthralled to learn that Burchard of Worms seems to have thought women put live fish into their vaginas?

Tulip
Jun 3, 2008

yeah thats pretty good


A very good post, I need to read her books and not just listen to her podcasts.

CN CREW-VESSEL
Feb 1, 2024

敌人磨刀我们也磨刀
Alfonso the Battler actually ruled, so idk about the angle being taken here.

AnimeIsTrash
Jun 30, 2018

does anyone know if there is a good history of the cultivation of rice somewhere? im curious how it came to be such a staple grain vs stuff like barley, millets, wheat, etc

Real hurthling!
Sep 11, 2001




that poo poo dont grow in swamp

Squizzle
Apr 24, 2008




AnimeIsTrash posted:

does anyone know if there is a good history of the cultivation of rice somewhere? im curious how it came to be such a staple grain vs stuff like barley, millets, wheat, etc

sakuna: of rice and ruin

Benagain
Oct 10, 2007

Can you see that I am serious?
Fun Shoe

AnimeIsTrash posted:

does anyone know if there is a good history of the cultivation of rice somewhere? im curious how it came to be such a staple grain vs stuff like barley, millets, wheat, etc

Obviously don't take my word for it and I too want some more books on this but off the top of my head if you can grow rice with flooding in an area, it doesn't deplete the soil as much as other grains and you get more calories out of a given area. It's why there's a wheat/rice divide in china with wheat being in the north and rice in the south.

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my_custom_username
Nov 30, 2023

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