The Tree and the Rod - Common elements in the vitae of Kenelm of Mercia and Edward the Confessor

        

            St. Kenelm, from MS Royal 2 B VII, England, c.1330-40

Introduction

Medieval hagiography is a literary category marked by stock characters, types and repetition. In today's world of individualism these are qualities that are not always well-received by the reading public. In the Middle Ages, however, the situation was very different. Hagiography as a category of literature was modelled on the Gospels, in that its structure was episodic and its protagonist imitated Christ through his or her life, actions and death. This is known as the imitatio Christi and was perhaps the most important feature of the hagiographic literature. As the centuries progressed and the catalogue of saints expanded, a range of different saint-types developed, such as the virgin martyr, the martyr and the confessor. These were ranked in a hierarchy, arranged in accordance with the degree to which the type came close to the imitation of Christ. Because of the veneration of the modl inherent in hagiography, the authors sought to connect the saint in question with people from the Bible, the classical literature or Christian history. Conformity was, in other words, the ideal, since it reassured the devotees that the saint had powers similar to saints higher up in the hierarachy or had a particular relationship with them. For instance, Edward the Confessor was said to be considered by St. Peter and John the Apostle as their equal, according to Aelred of Rievaulx (d.1167). The supreme model was of course Christ, but His life could not be imitated in every way by those who became saints. For instance, some people, like Edward the Confessor, proved their faith not through death but through their living and were thus known as confessors. Others, such as those who died in battle, gave their life for the faith, but because of their warlike path also came a bit short in fully embracing the imitatio Christi.

Because of these features of hagiography, it is of course unsurprising to encounter similarities between somewhat disparate saints, and finding such similarities need not suggest connections. However, exploring such similarities may nonetheless alert us to how widespread or popular certain elements were in a certain period, or a certain geographic location. In this blogpost, therefore, I will look at some similarities between the life of St. Kenelm or Cynehelm (supp. fl. 803x11) and the lives of Edward the Confessor (d.1066). The purpose of this juxtaposition is to draw attention to elements shared by these two royal saints, and how these elements differ. I have not included all the similarities, and there are some interesting cases to be explored in the healing narratives of both saints, but these are less surprising and more easily detected, so I have left them out here. 


Background

Kenelm's martyrdom, from MS Royal 2 B VII, England, c.1330-40

 

Kenelm of Mercia

Before embarking on the comparison we must first take a brief look at what we are dealing with. St. Kenelm was a - probably apochryphal - martyr who died in the early 9th century. According to his vita from the mid-eleventh century, he was the son of the king of Mercia and was killed by his tutor on commission from his evil sister Cwenthryth. Through a number of miracles the sanctity of his resting-place became apparent, and when the pope received a message from dove containing the details of his story, he ordered Kenelm venerated. As the translation of Kenelm's remains was carried out, the wicked Cwenthryth sat in her chamber reading the psalter backwards. When she saw the holy relics of her brother, her eyes fell out of her head and onto the page.

Although the anonymous author of Kenelm's vita refer to old English songs as his source for the legend, this may merely be the invocation of ancient authority so dear to medieval scribes, or it may accurately reflect how the legend was disseminated. In any case, Rosalind Love states that the cult of Kenelm "only took on a coherent form" at about 969 (Love 1996: cxi), and from the evidence available there is little to suggest "any formal, liturgical, veneration of Kenelm before the middle of the tenth century." The early ecclesiastically sanctioned cult of Kenelm was, in other words, closely connected to the Benedictine reformers of that age.

The earliest extant evidence of liturgical commemoration of Kenelm's dies natalis, his heavenly birthday, can be found in calendar from south-west England dated to the second half of the 10th century, and his name can be found "in virtually all the calendars surviving from the eleventh century" (Love 1996: cxiv). Furthermore, books of hours, litanies and similar liturgical evidence point to Kenelm's enduring popularity well into the 15th century. This is underscored by the Middle English life of Kenelm in the 13th century South English Legendary.

Death of Edward the Confessor, the Bayeux Tapestry

Edward the Confessor

Edward the Confessor is better known than Kenelm and presumably requires less introduction. Those who are interested, however, may find blogposts about him here, here and here. As a confessor, Edward ranked below Kenelm in the saintly hierarchy, but because of Edward's attachment and appropriation by the English monarchy, he enjoyed a more ostentatious veneration, at least in periods. Nonetheless, despite the billowing trajectory of his cult, he remained an important presence in the world of medieval England.

The first biography of Edward was written by an anonymous Flemish monk in the third quarter of the eleventh century (c.1065-75), commissioned by the king's widow, Edith. This was, however, not a hagiography, but part family chronicle, part religious biography, yet it was the foundation on which the later hagiographic literature on Edward was based. The first proper hagiography was written c.1138 by Osbert of Clare, prior of Westminster, and this was rewritten by Aelred of Rievaulx in 1163 on the occasion of Edward's translation. However, while not a hagiography, Vita Ædwardi was heavily influenced by this category and uses a wide range of hagiographic elements, so although Edward is not considered a saint in this biography - unlike Kenelm whose sainthood is asserted repeatedly - he comes very close.

The reason why a comparison between Kenelm and Edward is of interest, is that both their first biographies, Vita et Miracula Sancti Kenelmi and Vita Ædwardi qui apud westmonsteriam recquiescit, came about roughly in the same period, i.e during the queenship or retirement of Edith (1045-75), the Confessor's wife. We don't know either of the authors, but evidence suggests that the author of the former may have been English (due to his purported knowledge of old English songs), while the latter is now accepted to have been a Flemish monk.What is most interesting, however, is that both these work refer to Edith as an active force in their creations. Vita Ædwardi is dedicated to the queen and the monk refers to his commission several times, while the author of Kenelm's vita expresses his gratitude to Edith for having "revealed to us the remarkable documents of proof which she said she had herself read about him" (Love 1996: 53). This snippet of information confirms the claims of the Flemish anonymous of Edith's passion for reading and the fine arts.

Comparing the vitae of Kenelm and Edward, in other words, is not merely a juxtaposition of two completely unrelated texts, but texts which came about in the same period and were ostensibly influenced by Queen Edith. In the case of Edward, I will also draw on Osbert of Clare's vita, which is a pure hagiography, and later than the two primary texts, but heavily influenced by Vita Ædwardi.

The shared features of Kenelm and Edward

The dream of the tree

Both saints have ominous dreams in which a tree plays a significant part. Kenelm, a young child, recounts to his nurse how a tree stood before my bed, so high that it reached right up to the stars, and I saw myself standing in its lofty top, from where I could see everything for miles around. The treee was very beautiful and spreading, with wide-stretched branches, filled from bottom to top with all kinds of flowers. I saw also that the whole thing blazed with countless lights and lamps, and what is more three parts of this land were bending low in devotion to me. As I marvelled at the view from such a great watch-tower, some of my men rushed up below and cut down the tree and it fell with a great crash. And I was straightaway turned into a little white bird and soared into the heavens with easy flight.
- Love 1996: 57.

The dream is then woefully interpreted by the nurse, but Kenelm - called a second Joseph - receives these tidings with saintly serenity. As Rosalind Love points out, one source of this dream is probably the Book of Daniel: I saw, and behold a tree in the midst of the earth, and the height thereof was great. The tree grew, and was strong, and the heigth threof reached unto heaven, and the sight thereof to the end of all the earth: The leaves thereof were fair, and the fruit thereof much, and it was meat for all (...) I saw in the visions of my head upon my bed, and, behold, a watcher and an holy one came down from heaven; He cried aloud and said thus, Hew down the tree, and cut off his branches, shake off his leaves, and scatter his fruit.

- The Book of Daniel, 4:10-14, KJV

Dream of Nebuchadnezzar

MS Sloane 346, Speculum Humanae Salvationis, England, c.1330-40

However, there is also a touch of Joseph's dream of the sheaves of corn, which bend to him in devotion, a touch strengthened by the overt reference to Joseph, which may also serve to distance Kenelm from the wicked Nebuchadnezzar:

For, behold, we were binding sheaves in the field, and, lo, my sheaf arose, and also stood upright; and, behold, your sheaves sttod round about, and made obeisance to my sheaf.

- Genesis 37:7, KJV

Edward the Confessor, however, experienced a different dream on his deathbed. After a period of heavy sickness followed by his consecration of Westminster in 1065, Edward awoke and told how he was visited in his sleep by priests he had become acquainted with during his exile in Normandy. The priests told him that after his death England would fall into great distress on account of the wickedness of its priests (many of whom were Norman). Edward is greatly pained by this and asks for some consolation, a promise of divine alleviation. To this the priests reply:

When a green tree, having been cut from its trunk and set apart from its own root at the space of three yokes, returns to its trunk and is restored to its old root - compelled by no human hand, driven by no necessity - and, with its sap restored, flowers again and bears fruit, then some comfort in this tribulation and a remedy for the trouble we have foretold is to be hoped for.

- The Life of Saint Edward, King and Confessor, Aelred (translated by Jane Patricia Freeland), printed in Dutton 2005: 205-06

Although Edward's dream is also ominous, it is very different from the dream of Kenelm. First of all, it contains a parable of a tree, not the tree itself. Secondly, while Kenelm's dream foretells the young king's death, the dream of Edward foretells the disasters that will befall England. Furthermore, while Kenelm is compared with Joseph the dreamer, Edward receives the role of admonitor, the prophet who warns his people in the manner of Elijah threatening Ahab. Nonetheless, I find it interesting that the tree is found as an important metaphorical element in the dreams of both Kenelm and Edward, and this may point to a topos of 11th century literature, for although the quote above is taken from Aelred, the story first appears in the anonymous Vita Ædwardi (which I do not have available right now). It is rather tempting to suggest that the authors may have drawn some inspiration from the Dream of the Rood. However, considering the author of Vita Ædwardi was Flemish he may not have been familiar with this work, and the biblical nature of Kenelm's dream does not suggest any other sources - though they may exist. It is, therefore, an open question, whether the tree imagery draws on the same topos, or whether there are parallel traditions in use.

The miracle of the rod

The second feature is not to be found in Vita Ædwardi, but in Osbert's c.1138 hagiography. This text is from another century, but it relies heavily on the 11th-century work and therefore makes for an interesting comparison.

First, however, we must start with Vita Kenelmi. After having fallen asleep while hunting with his evil tutor, the little boy wakes up to find his soon-to-be murderer preparing his grave. Since Kenelm has been warned of this he expresses little concern about the murder, but states that he shall be buried elsewhere. To prove that this was the will of God, he plants his rod in the ground and it blossoms into an ash tree, which, according to the scribe, is still standing as evidence of this miracle.

Edward the Confessor's miracle is posthumous and is included in the lengthy catalogue of such miracles written by Osbert of Clare, which are not included in the Vita Ædwardi. The miracle in question concerns Bishop Wulfstan of Worcester (c.1008-95), himself canonised in 1203, and probably recounts what happened at the legatine council at Westminster in 1070. Osbert states that Wulfstan was asked to give up his baculum, his bishop's rod of office, presumably due to controversy over cathedral reform. To this Wulfstan replied:

What you ask of me is not within your right, nor is the care of the church granted to me by you, neither do I hold the holiness and discipline of the house of God in debt to you.
- Vita Beati Edwardi Regis, Osbert of Clare, edited by Marc Bloch, printed in Analecta Bollandiana 41, 1923: 117. My translation.

Since only he who has given something can take it back, Wulfstan goes to the tomb of Edward the Confessor, who was king when Wulfstan was installed as bishop. Wulfstan then places his baculum on the Confessor's tomb and asks someone to remove it. If it can be removed, the Confessor has relieved him of his office. As it turns out, no one can remove the baculum and Wulfstan keeps his position. This story appears to have been invented by Osbert as it does not appear in the biographical material relating to Wulfstan, and may possibly be one of the sources inspiring the sword in the stone of Arthurian mythology. Emma Mason claims that Thomas Becket, out of devotion to the not-yet-canonised Wulfstan, brought with him to Canterbury the part of the tombstone in which his staff had been planted (Mason 1990: 284). Frank Barlow, however, states that Becket took the Confessor's right arm (Barlow 1962: 132-33).

Arthur receiving the sword

MS Additional 10292, Le Estoire de Merlin, France, c.1316

The two miracles in question are from different eras and of different natures, yet the pivotal aspect is nonetheless the same: a rod that cannot be removed from where it has been planted unless by divine mandate. Due to the temporal gap between the texts it is doubtful if any direct link should be suggested, but they may point to a common source. In the cultural lexicon of the Middle ages, two such sources stand out as the most likely candidates, namely the rods of Aaron and Moses as described in Exodus. According to Jewish Encyclopedia, there is an haggadic tradition stating that before the rod of Aaron came in his possession, it had belonged to Joseph who in turn had received it as an heirloom. After Joseph's death the rod was taken by the soon-to-be father-in-law of Moses, Jethro or Raguel, to the following effect:

Jethro planted the staff in his garden, when its marvelous virtue was revealed by the fact that nobody could withdraw it from the ground; even to touch it was fraught with danger to life. This was because the Ineffable Name of God was engraved upon it.

- Jewish Encyclopedia, Isidore Singer (ed.), 1901 (http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/articles/5-aaron-s-rod)

If this story was known to the monks of the 11th and 12th centuries, it may well have served as the model for the rods of the Kenelm and Edward legends. Whether this was the case, however, I can not state with any certainty, and it may well be that the topos originated in the Norse legends later recorded as the Volsungsaga.

Moses with the staff handing over the stone tablets

MS Harley 616, France, last quarter of 13th century

Enemies in the home

The third and final feature I will look at here concerns conflicts between the saint/protagonist and a close member of the family. In the case of Kenelm it was, as stated, one of his sisters who proved to be the problem. In Vita Kenelmi the role of Cwenthryth is unequivocally to be the antagonist bringing about the king's death, the vehicle of his martyrdom, so to speak. She is described very vividly as "goaded by savage envy and an ambition to rule" (Love 1996: 55), and compared with such famous biblical types as Herodias, Jezabel and Cain, thus encompassing the wicked female royal and the fratricide. The scribe wryly states "there is no more baneful pest than an enemy in th home". Cwenthryth is of course duly punished, as recorded above, when the sight of her brother's remains being paraded into view makes her eyeballs literally pop out of her head.

Cain slaying Abel
MS Royal 2 B VII, England, c.1330-40

Edward the Confessor, on the other hand, faced a much less dramatic conflict, but nonetheless a kind of discord alien to the Christian ideal of harmonious family relations, an ideal cherished by the hagiographers of the Middle Ages. The conflict in question arose between Edward and his mother because of the problem of succession following Edward's exile into Normandy and his mother's marriage to King Canute, who gave her Edward's half-brother Harthacnute. When Edward came to the throne in 1042 upon the death of Hartacnut - some say he drank himself to death - the new king was angry with his mother (an anger perhaps aggravated by his brother Alfred's death at the hands of Danes), confiscated her properties and shut her up in a nunnery, according to William of Malmesbury. This animosity was left out of the hagiographies as it reflected very badly on Edward, the paragon of mildness and generosity. However, it was retained by historiographers long after Edward's canonisation in 1161, and as late as the 1390s Richard of Cirencester included this feature in his near-hagiographic historical account of Edward's life (Mayor (ed.) 1863, vol 2: 211 ).

Family disputes are not uncommon in hagiographies, but what is interesting here is that although the feature of family discord appear in texts pertaining to both saints, they are also different on a very fundamental level. On the one hand, the nature of the discords differ greatly in seriousness. Kenelm's sister commissions his death and reads the psalter backwards as cursing. The scribe's juxtaposition of her and a minor catalogue of deceitful characters leaves no question as to her nature, and her horrible end underlines this very vividly. Edward's dispute is a matter of distrust and it does not result in deadly retaliation, nor are any of the sides in the dispute portrayed as personifications of good and evil, since Edward is not yet called a saint.

Another important aspect is how this discord relates to sainthood. In the case of Kenelm, Cwenthryth's betrayal is an elemental part of the young boy's martyrdom and is therefore crucial to the hagiographic narrative. In the case of Edward the Confessor, on the other hand, the family quarrel becomes an embarrassing element for his hagiographers and is therefore omitted. In fact, Kenelm has more in common with Edward Martyr who was killed in 978 on behest of his stepmother Ælfthryth.


Conclusion

As we see there are certain interesting elements which feature in the literature of both saints. However, not all these elements belong to hagiography, and through this comparison we have seen that although the elements are similar, there are certain crucial differences which decide which category of literature they belong to. We may speculate to what degree the two literary traditions have influenced each other and we will probably never find a satisfactory answer, but it is interesting to note that Queen Edith has played an instrumental role in the crafting of both these traditions. Although, as we have seen, there are certain topological resemblances between the two saints, their differences are more numerous. I will therefore not draw any conclusions beyond the tantalising idea that having been brought about in the same period and perhaps in the same intellectual milieu, the traditions of these two saints are to some unknown degree intertwined.

Literature

Barlow, Frank, The Life of King Edward who rests at Westminster, Thomas Nelson and Sons Ltd, 1962

Bloch, Marc (ed.), “La Vie de S. Edouard le Confesseur par Osbert de Clare,” Analecta Bollandi-ana 41, 1923

Dutton, Marsha (ed.) and Freeland, Jane Patricia (transl.), Aelred of Rievaulx: The Historical Works, Cistercian Publications Inc., 2005

Hart, Cyril, ‘Edward [St Edward; called Edward the Martyr] (c.962–978)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004

Love, Rosalinda C., Three Eleventh-Century Anglo-Latin Saints' Lives, Clarendon Press, 1996

Mason, Emma, St Wulfstan of Worcester, Oxford 1990

Mason, Emma, Mason, ‘Wulfstan [St Wulfstan] (c.1008–1095)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004

Mayor, John E. B. (ed.), Ricardi de Cirencestria Speculum Historiale de Gestis Regum Angliæ, London, 1863

Mynors, R. A. B., Thomson, R. M., Winterbottom, M., William of Malmesbury: Gesta Regum Anglorum, The History of the English Kings, Clarendon Press, 1998

Rollason, David, ‘Cynehelm (supp. fl. 803x11)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, Oxford University Press, 2004

Websites

http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/

The Liebster Award

A few days ago I was surprised to learn that my friend Sarah had nominated my blog for the Liebster Award, an award given to bloggers by other bloggers whose writings they like and contents they find interesting. I'm very grateful to Sarah for this nomination, and I gladly accept the obligation further this nomination according to the Liebster Award rules, which are as follows:

1. Thank your Liebster Blog Award presenter on your blog and link back to the blogger who presented this award to you.
2. Answer the 11 questions from the nominator, list 11 random facts about yourself and create 11 questions for your nominees.
3. Present the Liebster Blog Award to 11 blogs of 200 followers or less who you feel deserve to be noticed and leave a comment on their blog letting them know they have been chosen. (No tag backs)
4. Copy and Paste the blog award on your blog

 

     Anglophilia and history: Exhibition Square in York

My questions from Sarah

What is your favourite book, of all time?

This is practically an impossible question to answer, as I have many favourite books of such a great variety that it is difficult to choose between them. However, two of the books I've re-read the most are Alistair MacLean's World War II thriller Force 10 from Navarone and Geoffrey Hill's recent collection of poems Clavics.


Which five historical figures would you invite to your fantasy dinner party?

Edward the Confessor, Edmund Spenser, Jesus, Pelagius and Patrick O'Brian.


Do you have any bad habits?

Too many to enumerate. One of the worst is the tendency to sometimes forget what people say to me only minutes after it has been said, which makes me sometimes come off more arrogant than I really am.

Facebook or twitter?

That depends entirely on purpose. For keeping up with friends I prefer Facebook. To connect with like-minded people from all over the world and share ideas and knowledge, twitter is by far the better alternative.

Do you have a pet hate?

Several. The two biggest are anachronisms in novels or films and hipsters. Hipsters ruin so much for me.

Hipsters have been a problem for a long time (c) Kate Beaton

Has there been a book, song or movie that changed your life? How?

I find it difficult to assess which moments or experiences have been truly life-changing, largely because there are so many factors which compel us to take the roads we end up on, and in most cases we are not aware of these choices until long afterwards. Accordingly, there have been many books, movies and songs that have changed my life in various ways, but one I would like to point to is Umbert Eco's marvellous novel Baudolino, which I read when I was 19. The book really opened my eyes to the Middle Ages and gave a fertile ground in which the later exposures of academia could blossom into an enamoration.

Are there any historical fiction ‘crimes’ that really get on your nerves?

Anachronism is a major problem for me, but also cynicism. It's too easy to depict historical agents according to some objective mechanics we construct with hindsight, rather than embracing the idiosyncratic humanity of people inhabiting ages past. This is particularly the case in the depiction of the medieval religious. What is your greatest achievement to date?

My MA thesis.

Commemorative photo of me at my reading desk, taken after I had recieved the printed copies of my thesis

Can you tell us about one of your goals for the future?

I would very much like to write a book at some point. Novel, non-fiction, poetry collection, it's pretty much all the same.What is your favourite thing about blogging?

First of all that I can share a wide variety of things and thoughts with like-minded people. Secondly, I like blogging because it inhabits a middle-ground between gossip and academia, meaning that when I write on historical or history-related subjects, I need some of the rigour of academic writing, but at the same time I'm much more independent.
And finally, have I annoyed you by nominating you for the Liebster?

Not in the least, so thank you again!

York Minster, picture taken from the city walls

 

Eleven facts about me

1) My favourite band is Dire Straits and has been since I was at least fourteen years old.

2) I'm a committed anglophile.

3) I actually like British cuisine, or at least great parts of it, but I will never understand why sausage rolls are so popular.

4) I sometimes spend hours on end stalking Italian cities on Google Maps. Usually on the wrong side of midnight.

5) Despite having visited Schiphol several times, I have not properly been to the Netherlands.

6) I find the Dutch language to be a charming one, although completely unintelligible when spoken.

7) I have a fascination with small countries, particularly Nauru, Andorra, San Marino and Liechtenstein.

8) I didn't know I wanted to be a medievalist until my second year at university.

9) I grew up on a farm in Western Norway.

10) I aspire to become a turophile.

11) I like dogs.

My dog, taken on a boatride on the fjord back home

My questions for my nominees

1) What prompted you to start blogging?

2) Name three of your favourite books.

3) Name three of your favourite travel destinations.

4) Name three travel destinations you would like to visit.

5) What is your oddest fascination?

6) TV-series or movies?

7) What TV-series are you currently watching regularly?

8) Which architectural style do you like best?

9) Name three subjects in which you would like to become more fluent.

10) Name one yet unamed phenomenon or concept which needs a name.

11) Which is your favourite band?

Dragons from The Queen Mary Psalter, because dragons are fun

My nominees:

A Clerk of Oxford - wonderfully eclectic medievalist, literature scholar and Oxford resident writing about a wide array of subjects.

Art History with Caroline Quintanar - art historian specialising in Spanish medieval art and architecture.

General Grier's Civil War - letters from Brevet Brigadier General David Perkins Grier, of the 77th Illinois Volunteer Regiment, transcribed and made accessible for the reading public. A fascinating source to Civil War history.

In the Middle - a joint venture of medieval scholars presenting articles, extracts, musings and tidbits from their academic work.

ivry twr - concerned primarily with digital humanities, ivy twr presents articles, podcasts and videos embracing a wide variety of academic subjects with the digital age as its vantage point.

medievalfragments - the blog of a project concerned with medieval manuscripts, led by twitter's Erik Kwakkel.

Text Technology - with a medieval focus, this blog is concerned with text technologies throughout history.

The Cantos of Mvtabilitie - An Oxford don's infrequent musings of a wide variety of subjects. This was the blog that inspired me to start My Albion.

The Early Modern - a scholar presenting selections from the period 1500-1800.

The Monstrous Middle Ages - medievalist focussing on the monstrous in medieval texts. How can that not be fascinating?

Meshalim - multilingual medievalist presents fascinating snippets from academia.

Disappointment Day

I try to see through the clouds

On one more rainy day

- One more rainy day, Deep Purple

In the course of my three years as a teaching assistant I have grown accustomed to the rhythm of the essay weeks, and today was what I've come to term Disappointment Day. This is the deadline of the final essay, which ideally should contain all the corrections they've been asked to include in the feedback sessions. Ideally, the final essay should be a coherent text which tackles the assignment without any trace of hesitation of lack of control, and which is structured so neatly the reader has no difficulty following the flow of the arguments which culminate in a well-wrought conclusion. But this, as stated, is the ideal world.

The truth, as I've come to learn the hard way, is drastically different, and this is the day when you discover how little the students have actually done about the corrections you lined up for them. I take this somewhat hard because I commit very strongly to providing a clear standard that they should follow and pinpoint precisely where they tread falsely and what they need to change or omit. It turns out, however, that I'm not the only one who make commitments. The students appear to commit very strongly to the idea that their first drafts are filled with great ideas and nice phrases which must be retained in the final paper. At least this is how it seems to me. Of course, I can understand that very well. I, too, become very attached to texts I write, and I didn't learn humility in this regard until somewhat late in my bachelor, so I've stood in their shoes myself. After all, my MA degree was an exercise in textual revision, the only major difference being that I had by then acquired much more experience than my students currently have.

Being sympathetic to their situation, does not sugarcoat the disappointment. Nor have the three years entirely deprived me of that sense of hopefulness I experience the days prior to Disappointment Day. I have pretty high expectations of my students, and since they have chosen to walk the university road I expect them to take the challenges they encounter. Naturally, I do not expect equally much of everyone, nor do I treat everyone the same way. A part of my job is to attempt evaluating each student's character to such a degree that I can see whether he or she belongs in academia or not, and those who appear to do are of course given greater challenges.

However, since this is a freshman's course and many of the students have embarked on their first year in higher education, the bar is set extra low on Disappointment Day. Since we are student assistants we do not have the mandate to fail any of the students unless they do spectacularly bad, and sometimes even they they are allowed to pass. Indeed, there have been times when I've genuinely felt bad for not failing a student. For instance, there was this one girl who handed in two pages, which was only halfway to the mandatory minimum page count. I gave her a few days to rework the paper and even offered to give her a new date for the feedback session, as she had failed to show up to her allotted time. A few days later - on the very day of the new deadline - I finally heard back from her and found she had managed to expand her opus into three pages. Since I had no more time to give her - this was close to the deadline for sending the lists of candidates to the exam office - I decided to let her pass, and immediately felt bad for doing so.

This time, since it is spring and not late in the autumn and close to the exams, I do have more time to give them, but not without infringing upon the time they need to write the next essay, which is due next friday. Since I'll be correcting these papers, too, I want them to write as well as they can, and they can't do this with more work hanging over them. However, so far I have failed four of ca. 10 or 15 papers, all of whom because they missed the point of the assignment, and three of whom I really expected to do better. The fourth I really don't expect that much from, but I hope at least he will be able to make it to four pages.

When I woke up today there was a warm rain of the kind that was really too early for February, and the world grey and white. It was one more rainy day in Norway, and one more Disappointment Day in my career as a student assistant.

Sisyphus, painting by Titian

A Trial of Two Days

Ferret conducting a choir of geese, taken from the liturgical MS known as the Gänsebuch (1503-10), the Book of Geese, named after this particular illumination. The picture is taken from this website.

(...) and the sword with the belt was taken from the altar, and, turning to the king, the bishop said: "Receive this"

- The Deeds of the Kings of Saxony, Widukind of Corvey (my translation)

This week began very roughly. For two consecutive days I sat down with students to give them feedback on their assignments in a freshman course in ancient and medieval history. The assignment is an essay meant to prepare them for writing their exams, and as a teaching assistant it is my job to correct their papers and give them constructive criticism. It is a heavy job as it involves a lot of textual work and a lot of repetitive work, seeing as many students tread falsely on the same steps. The task grows into a certain monotony when you read the fourth paper in a row where the student fails to properly establish a foundation for the argumentative part of the assignment. It is, despite certain grievances, a great job, and it is also a duty I have to fulfill to my students. I wish, however, they would fulfill their duties to me by writing complete drafts.

Most of my students are freshmen and freshwomen, straight out of the Norwegian equivalent to senior high and unaccustomed to anything the university throws at them. They have of course been through a similar situation in the first term, but one autumn is not enough time to get used to the ways and means of higher education. Some of my students are more experienced, but they come from different disciplines - predominantly arcaheology - and are not entirely adjusted to the style of history. For two group sessions I tried to prepare them for the big test, and I laid down some very simple and fundamental guidelines for how to write a good essay, and presented a few things to avoid in order to keep me happy while correcting their papers. I had rather high hopes as they seemed to take it all in, but it turned out most of the first drafts were far from how I had expected them to be, since they failed to use the structure I had given them or, even worse, had only jotted down a handful of points for future work.

I have 25 students who signed up for my classes, and so far there has been an attendance of 15-19, which I'm quite happy about. In addition, I've graded roughly 13 papers for external students who received their feedback via e-mail. As you understand, I've read a lot of text dealing with the same material, and I would be lying if I said the repetition never got to me. The corrections eventually culminate in the feedback sessions mentioned earlier, and while they are the most challenging aspect of the job, they are also the most rewarding.

The sessions usually follow the same pattern: the students knock on my door or are spotted through the open door, invited in and asked to sit down in a rather comfortable chair. I usually begin with allowing them to comment on their own work, so as to gauge the expectations. I then commence to point out the various flaws or shortcomings, while making sure to commend them for what they have done well. Finally, after approximately ten to fifteen minutes I hand them their papers like a bishop gives a king his sword and conclude my sermon with "do you have any questions?" The whole ritual is very orderly and uncomplicated, and I have so far never had any unpleasant encounters or reactions.

Some sessions are of course a greater delight than others, and this depends entirely on the student. Some students are more engaged in the subject than others and are very eager to discuss the topic or to ask questions pertaining to the task ahead of them, the final draft. In some cases - and although they are rare, I highly appreciate them - the students want to shake hands as a sign of thank you, and that is an extraordinary feeling.

Not every student is as comfortable as that in my presence, or as enthused about learning and receiving criticism. Some students ostensibly take this course as a one-year engagement, either to scoop up what they consider easy points or to take a year doing something they believe is easy while making up their minds about what to do with their lives. This does not automatically make them disinterested - indeed, some do go on to take a bachelor's degree - but it is in this demographic one finds the less receptive students. Other students - freshmen or freshwomen - are so new to what they partake in that they are uncomfortable with the arrangement. This was especially so with one of the youngsters in my group, who positively shook with nervousness for the entire session. I felt really bad for him, poor lamb, and I tried my best to be calm, soothing and positive - which was not an easy task as he had handed in a very poor draft.

In sum, Monday and Tuesday constituted a trial for me, a series of sessions where I had to engage with a very varied lot of people and repeat myself over and over again, since they generally struggled with the same issues and had the same shortcomings. These sessions are situations in which I have to be at my clearest, both in my mind and in my words, and I have to evaluate the students as I speak to them and adjust my sermons accordingly. This goes on for hours on end, broken only by lunch and Latin classes, and at the end of the day I have either talked or been talked to so much that the greatest bliss is silence.

The job is, as I've said, a challenge. It is a very rewarding challenge, but it is also very draining on your faculties. Not only because of the repetition and monotony, but because it demands very much of you as a textual critic and a fellow human being. You have to deal with the frustrations that occur when students have ignored your advice or let themselves be derailed into a cul-de-sac through a careless reading of the assignment text. You have to be critical yet supportive, all-knowing yet humble when you actually do make mistakes and you have to be constantly present in both body and spirit. In a certain way, this is why I find the lovely image from the Book of Geese a suitable illustration of my plight: just as challenging it must be for a ferret to conduct a choire of quaking and quacking geese, so, too, is it a challenge for me to conduct the bewildered students through a maze of technical issues and obstacles largely of their own making.

In a few weeks' time it will all commence again as the students prepare themselves for yet another compulsory assignment. I just hope I am prepared to the task by then.

Image taken from MS. Royal 20B XX, f.1, courtesy of British Library

The Greyfriars Skeleton - A Case for History

 Richard III's motto, photo taken at the Richard III Museum in York

From 10.00 to 11.00 AM GMT today there was held a press conference in Leicester presenting the verdict on the so-called Greyfriars Skeleton, which was unearthed in an archaeological excavation beneath a Leicester car park in September last year. The excavation was organised in a joint venture by Leicester University, the Richard III Society and Leicester City Council, and its specific purpose was to find the remains of King Richard III, who was said to have been laid to rest in a church now lost. When the skeleton was found, its spinal curvature prompted speculations on whether this could be the infamous king, immortalised by William Shakespeare as a monstrous hunchback, and it seemed indeed as if the excavation had found exactly what it sought to find. On today's press conference, the team of archaeologists from Leicester University - headed by Richard Buckley - presented their skeletal evidence, the historiographical evidence and ultimately the DNA results in an orderly and sober fashion. The academic verdict of the team was that the skeleton "beyond reasonable doubt" belonged to the last Plantagenet king.

The conference attracted great attention both in the UK and abroad, and it was a much-anticipated event for historians and lay enthusiasts alike. The case is - by the time I write this - the most viewed news-report on BBC's homepage, and on twitter Richard III has been trending for hours as a consequence. Following the verdict, the University of Leicester launched a new website about the excavation, and I'm confident we will see many more activities pertaining to the unearthed king in the foreseeable future.

 Greyfriars, Leicester. Map taken from wikimedia

The resounding enthusiasm has, unsurprisingly, found its counterpart in certain sceptical and/or dismissive voices. This is of course a natural reaction, and academics are, after all, required by their work description to be sceptical about these things. Charlotte Higgins of the Guardian, for instance, commented that this was "not really history, not in any meaningful sense ", and that the ultimate importance of the "jamboree" was raising awareness of the university, attract interested people to the discipline of archaeology by showcasing how experts work and, finally, to secure funding.

Personally, I believe Higgins's article, while raising an important concern, is too insistent upon its own scepticism to comprehend the big picture. That the three points she mentioned were achieved is - like the identity of the skeleton - beyond reasonable doubt, and they are all three truly important. However, the fact that we now have identified the remains of a historical person, allows us to realign the facts we knew and the myths we believed into a picture more fitting with the most recently unearthed facts. This is indeed history in a meaningful sense.

However, I also believe that the verdict concerning the identity of the Greyfriars skeleton was not the most important aspect of today's conference. During the conference, as the experts presented the various facts they had discovered - tacitly and carefully tying it into the big question of whether this was Richard, while still withholding the ultimate verdict - it struck me that regardless the end result of the conference, this event had already proved its big importance. The most important aspect of today's conference was not the identity of the skeleton, but rather showing how much people actually care about history and that history is not merely a thing of the past.

Today's verdict may be refuted in times to come when technology has become even more refined, and people will eventually grow accustomed to the revisions and confirmations of historical facts today's verdict has provided. However, to my mind the conference is a firm proof that historians and archaeologists are needed in today's society, that they play their roles and that their endeavours are justified by the enthusiasm of both professionals and layfolk alike. In an age where there is a demand for solid and tangible results in academia, events like this show that not only do humanists achieve results, but that the populace eagerly anticipates and show enthusiasm over these results. There is, in other words, sufficient interest in history to not only justify but necessitate professional historians and archaeologists, in order to unearth and ultimately make sense of new facts. Whatever the duration of today's verdict in Leicester, this particular aspect will stand the test of time.