In light of our paper due tomorrow, I thought I would write a short piece on the English Civil Wars, a very complicated topic. In his first chapter “Origins,” when describing the difference of political participation between the 1640s and previous centuries, Worden states, “Political alertness was not confined to the owners of estates.” This got me thinking about political alertness today, and throughout the course of our class. Today, being politically alert is fairly easy, especially with the internet. Turn on any news channel and you’re likely to see the most recent blunders and successes (though those are far between) of politicians and political candidates. In the early 16th Century, this was likely very different. The only way one would know about the dirty underbelly of their politicians is if it was passed down through royal decree or if gossip (or war) happened to reach their village. In all likelihood, the average village peasant probably did not know all of the intricacies of court life or political maneuvers. This begs the question, is this good or bad for the peasant? One could argue that it is for the best of the peasant, that they aren’t becoming bogged down in the unimportant drama of politics. But in reality, it also doesn’t give them much of a chance to voice their own opinions about the choices of their King or local county officials. But would this voice truly matter? Until ‘Parliament’ lops off King Charles I’s head in 1649, there was very little that the average peasant (or county official for that matter!) could do to change the direction of policy of the monarchy. It makes me wonder that if more people knew history and realized how recent our concept /version of democracy is, that maybe more people would vote, and take advantage of their rights as citizens? After all, it wasn’t too long ago that we were fighting the concept of “taxation without representation,” let alone an almost total monarchy.

“Finally, The Merchant of Venice demonstrates that race was never solely attached to skin colour, but also that skim colour was never too far from nay articulation of race.”*

In the summation of her argument in the sixth chapter of her book, Ania Loomba demonstrates the complications to untangling race, religion, and skin color. Throughout history race, skin color, and religion have been closely connected, whether in the context of slavery, love, or power. Loomba argument, essentially, is that while one cannot automatically assume race and skin color are connected, there can never be truly separate. Examples of this include the “Spanish Moor.” This title intertwines African decent, Spanish nationality (however accurate), and a Muslim religious identity. Loomba mentions this complication when Salman Rushdie’s story The Moor’s Last Sigh, a child of a Christian woman and Jewish man is named a “Moor.” The child is called a “‘Moor’ both because his skin is dark, and because his mother lovingly nicknames him ‘mor’…”** Now these identities as stated above are being attributed to a child that only fits one of the traditional criterion for a “Moor.” It’s interesting to note, that while Othello is known as “the Moor,” his religious identity is never mentioned, but it sometimes assumed because of his title “the Moor.” There are other instances of this phenomenon throughout history.

*Ania Loomba, Shakespeare, Race, and Colonialism, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), 160.

** Loomba, Shakespeare, Race, and Colonialism, 135.

In 1744 (just outside the time period of our class), William Smith published his narrative of his trip Guinea. During his travels, after meeting with a “Grandee,” he was presented with a concubine, who he described in detail, “She made methought no despicable Figure, and though she was black, that was amply recompenc’d by the Softness of her Skin, the beautiful Proportion and exact Symmetry of each part of her Body, and the natural, pleasant and inartificial [sic] Method of her Behaviour.”* In his description, he makes a point to say that it is not because of her complexion, but rather in spite of her complexion, that this woman is beautiful. It was Aphra Behn’s description of Oroonoko that reminded me of Smith’s description of the Grandee’s concubine, when she says, “His face was not that brown, rusty black which most of that nation are, but a perfect ebony or polished jet…His nose was rising and Roman instead of African and flat. His mouth, the finest shaped that could be seen, far from those great turned lips which are so natural to the rest of the Negroes.”** Rather than demonstrating a curiosity for the exotic, as many travel narratives do during this time period, Behn describes Oroonoko’s beauty as originating from typically European features. Though it is fiction, I wonder if Oroonoko represents the beginning of an 18th Century trend to describe the beauty of African men and women under the guise that it is only the European features that are beautiful. I also wonder if this was a “safe way” of European writers  to go against a cultural taboo (that is of praising Africans for their beauty and intelligence). While I am not attempting an argument in either direction, I thought it was interesting to point out.

*William Smith. A new voyage to Guinea: describing the customs, manners, soil, Climate, Habits, Buildings, Education, Manual Arts, Agriculture, Trade, Employments, Languages, Ranks of Distinction, Habitations, Diversions, Marriages, and whatever else is memorable among the Inhabitants. Likewise, an account of their animals, minerals, &c. With great Variety of entertaining Incidents, worthy of Observation, that happen’d during the Author’s Travels in that large Country. Illustrated with Cutts, engrav’d from Drawings taken from the Life. With an alphabetical index. By William Smith, Esq; Appointed by the Royal African Company to survey their Settlements, make Discoveries, &c. (London: John Nourse, 1744), 250-254

** Aphra Behn, Oroonoko, (New York: Penguin Books, 2003), 15.

Chapter Five of Sources and Debates in English History: 1485-1714 is rather properly named with “Masterless Men and the Monstrous Regiment of Women.” The late sixteenth and early seventeenth-centuries were plagued by all sorts of tensions and social unrest. Document 5.1 titled “Anonymous threatening note (1598)” demonstrates the anger felt by the English public about their justice system. The Early Modern English commoner’s sense of justice includes vigilante justice, as depicted in document 5.3, titled “Wiltshire Quarter Sessions, deposition of Thomas Mills, cutler, and his wife Agnes (Spring 1618)”. This document elaborates the parade-like method of vigilante justice, which intended to shame Thomas Mills, and beat his wife, into submission. Whether this was to restore order, or if there were other issues that their neighbors and other villagers were angry about, we cannot definitively prove. We can use this information to explain the dramatic lengths that villagers were incited to, in order to reestablish in their village. No only did they gather, which may have prevented them from performing their work, but based on the large-size of the gathered mob (if the document is not extremely exaggerated) men and women from other villages would have gathered to bring justice to this particular village. It must have taken a large amount of planning, just to get the word out to the other villages. So, this then begs the question that I asked in class: Did the victims of the mob realize that it was coming for them? If so, why did they not leave? Dr. Rabin argued that this family had no other place to live, and that leaving their village would have been traumatic, but if they knew their lives were in danger, would it not have been worth the difficulty of relocating? On the other hand, if the mob had indeed gathered people from other villages, it may have been impossible for them to find another village in which to live. Faced with those odds, I don’t know if I would have attempted escape either.

This isn’t really a quote from the book, but I found it extremely interesting that John Bossy believed that comparing writing styles would be a legitimate form of investigation in this case. Honestly, I believe that you could never use a comparison of handwriting styles in an investigation like this, especially because the author is looking for a spy. One would think that a spy might change his handwriting style, specifically for circumstances like this. Obviously, not because s/he believed that people would be investigating this topic hundreds of years later, but because s/he felt that the opportunity for the letters to be leaked was a distinct possibility. Stylistically, it seems as though Bossy cannot decide whether or not he would like to write a narrative monograph or a historical research piece. While his book is chocked-full of legitimate footnotes, he has yet to tell the story in such a way as to make it accessible to the reader. The result is that his story is extremely dry, even for me. That being said, I thought his act of tracing of Chérelles name from Chérelles to Arnault was both informative and interesting, and provided me with some necessary information for the rest of part one. Although, honestly, I’m still not sure what is happening in the book, other than the fact that there is a spy working for Elizabeth, but claiming allegiance to Mary, Queen of Scots.