Adversus Obfuscari

Down there you do not follow a single path

When you philosophise; so carried away are you

By showing off and the ideas it gives you.

- Paradiso, Dante Alighieri (translated by Charles Sisson)

In the course of research for my MA thesis I was directed to an article on the hagiography of Edmund of East Anglia (d. 869) which might provide some interesting details for comparative studies. The article in question is found in the anthology Holiness and Masculinity in the Middle Ages, a collection of essays edited by P. H. Cullum and Katherine J. Lewis, compiled for the purpose of shedding new light on old issues by focussing on aspects pertaining to gender studies. The compilation covers a vast timespan and includes a range of topics, some of them very interesting and relevant to my dissertation. Despite my overall good impression - and my firm conviction as to the project's importance - there was nonetheless one article in particular that made me seethe with scholarly rage to such an extent that I completed the opus mainly out of spite. This blogpost is therefore dedicated to a fierce rebuttal of poorly applied gender theory and scholarship that serves only to obstruct the usefulness of a discipline.

I have chosen the title Adversus Obfuscari as a play on Irenaeus' two books against heresies, Adversus Haereses, and I have included a neologism whose correctness I in all honesty can't vouch for. Since the article in question serves to sabotage the seriousness of gender history I find it obfuscating and I consider its author - Edward Christie - to be an obfuscator, a point of view I hope the subsequent rant will serve to assess.

The article in question is titled Self-Mastery and Submission: Holiness and Masculinity in the Lives of Anglo-Saxon Martyr-Kings and Edward Christie's aim is to investigate submission and its implication on masculinity in the passions of Edmund and Oswald and how this aligns with the conflicting ideologies of Pagan and Christian heroism of the Anglo-Saxon world. The focal point of the article is an interesting one and I for my part have for a long time been very fascinated by collisions of cultures and their aftermath. However, Christie's argumentation is so fraught with anachronism, so steeped in the bilgewater of obsolete scholarship that the minor points of interest and real scholarly worth are overshadowed by nonsense.

Very little is known about the historical King Edmund. He was king of the East Angles until his death in 869 at the hands of Danish Vikings and this death is all the two near-contemporary written sources can tell us. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and Asser's Life of King Alfred were both composed in the 890s during the reign of Alfred the Great and as such may be considered fairly trustworthy by virtue of proximity in time, but despite being records dated only some 30 odd years after Edmund's death they fail to provide any great detail. Nonetheless it appears that Edmund's death attracted some attention and a generation after his death there were issued coins venerating him as Sancte Eadmund Rex, but what instigated this is not known to us.

From Richard II's Wilton Diptych (late 14th century)

In the latter quarter of the 10th century Abbo of Fleury wrote the first hagiography, Passio sancti Eadmundi, which portrays Edmund as St. Sebastian: tied to a tree and pierced with arrows. As with Sebastian Edmund's death came not because of arrows, but at the hands of the Viking chieftain Hingwar - probably Ivar the Boneless - who decapitated Edmund when the king refused to tell where his treasure was hidden. This is the main point of interest to Edmund's hagiographers. Through submission to the Viking chieftain Edmund performs his passio Christi, the imitation of Christ necessary to attain sainthood, and through his death Edmund conquers in spirit what he could not achieve in the flesh: victory over the Pagans. This also becomes a focal point for Edward Christie.

St. Sebastian (by Sandro Botticelli), the model for Abbo of Fleury's portrayal of Edmund

The opposing ideals of Pagan and Christian culture and the victory in spirit versus victory in the flesh are both elements that can be found in the Medieval matter and as such provides material for scholarly investigation, so where does it all go wrong for Edward Christie? A clear marker of this can be found on page 147 where he writes "Part of my purpose is nonetheless to explore the psychoanalytic reading of Anglo-Saxon heroism (...)". The problem here is of course the psychoanalysis for how do you apply a questionable approach of the 20th century to a Medieval reality whose writers did not know and consequently paid no heed to this way of thinking? It should be pointed out that some aspects of psychoanalysis - in which respect I'm hardly even a layman and am therefore prone to mistakes - can be used propitiously if applied with extreme care, provided - of course - that we have enough material to allow such investigations. I'm thinking here of the implications of childhood trauma, exploration of which may yield some useful information for explaining adult behaviour, but how do you do this when there is no childhood to explore?

Things get worse when Christie goes on to explore the passion of St. Edmund equipped with modern theories, starting with the society of exploit as put forth by 19th century American economic theorist Thorstein Veblen who divided "barbaric" society into "exploit" and "industry". The chief problem here, of course, is that this is anthropological scholarship from the very infancy of anthropology, a field that has undergone significant developments in the past hundred years. Whether Veblen's theories are still valid I don't know and I find it unfortunate that Christie has not taken pains to ensure the reader that they are. Anthropology can be a good way of exploring historical issues, especially since there are certain anthropological constants that manifest themselves in various ways throughout history, but Christie is far too careless in his treatment here. He cites from the Frankish chronicler Fredegar to prove that this division did exist, but to cite merely one example from the vast range of Early Medieval literature to buttress a claim based on 19th century hindsight is not what I consider persuasive.

Christie moves on with this idea of the society of exploit as exemplified by the Viking raiders, quoting Sigmund Freud on kingship who in turn relies on James George Frazer's anthropological studies. The problems here should be evident. Christie has seemingly cherry-picked material from the dawn of anthropology to find support for his approach, although the theories and interpretations of both Freud and Frazer suffer from the scant methodological and theoretical framework of their own time.

As if founding his ideas on this kind of obsolete scholarship was not enough, Edward Christie then considers the decapitation of Edmund along the same lines as Karma Lochrie did in a 1994 article on Judith's beheading of Holofernes in the Beowulf manuscript. In this article Lochrie relied on the ideas of Luce Irigaray and Toril Moi, arguing that the decapitation of Holofernes was a symbolic castration and Christie urges for the possibility of reading Edmund's death as feminising. First of all Christie and Lochrie have completely ignored any scholarship done on the practice of decapitation in Early Medieval and older societies and its spiritual implications. The head has been a forceful symbol down the ages for quite obvious reasons, such as the fact that the head is the centre of reasoning and thinking. There is to my knowledge no evidence to suggest that Celts and Goths collected heads as a symbolic castration. If the Celts and the Goths wanted to castrate their enemies they castrated their enemies, they did not decapitate them. When, according to the first book of Samuel, King Saul said to David he wanted hundred Philistine foreskins David did not return with hundred noses, because when kings of old said they wanted their enemies castrated they did not consider the head a good substitute.

That Holofernes guy was such a dick. (by Botticelli)

Secondly Christie seems to believe that the ideas concocted by radical gender theorists in the 20h century should somehow be relevant to the writers of Anglo-Saxon hagiography. This is anachronistic in the worst sense possible and it obfuscates the entire discourse. The ideas of Irigaray and Moi, perpetuated by Lochrie and Christie, are themselves spawned by the contemporary issues of those who proposed them and as such must be understood in relation to the modern era, not to mention the personalities of the theorists. When Abbo of Fleury wrote the Passio sancti Eadmundi there is no reason to believe he considered the decapitation as anything but a decapitation, the final resort of a Pagan king whose archers had not managed to make Edmund yield to his demands. What is even more certain is that he did not quote, paraphrase or allude to any theories put forth by Irigaray or Moi, and consequently such theories should only be applied with extreme caution and reserve if they are to be applied at all (which I strongly doubt). Edward Christie shows no reserve but rather seems to immerse himself quite happily in a long series of anachronisms and as a result comes up with an utterly unconvicing and unpersuasive argument which is nothing more than poorly applied gender theory.

Life and Times of Alfred, King of Wessex

But I have explained this concern for learning how to read among the young and old in order to give some idea of the character of King Alfred.

- Life of King Alfred, Asser (translated by Simon Keynes and Michael Lapidge)

One of the great perks of being a student of Medieval history is the opportunity to become acquainted with a wide variety of literary sources to ages past, small windows into a world now lost to our understanding. Recently, in the course of my MA work, I decided to have a look at the Penguin anthology of sources to the age of King Alfred to find out whether Asser's biography could have had some bearing on the hagiographical tradition of Edward the Confessor. It turned out in the end that I could glean little from Asser's Life of King Alfred since it was poorly disseminated in the High Middle Ages and as such probably had little influence on later biographical texts. However, because it is a rather brief text I decided to read through it for the sheer pleasure and because I'm becoming increasingly fascinated with the Anglo-Saxon period.

The item on the front cover is the Alfred Jewel bearing the inscription AELFRED MEC HEHT GEWYRCAN, Alfred ordered me to be made. The jewel is now at display in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford.

Life of King Alfred was written in 893 by Asser, a clergyman, perhaps even a bishop if we are to believe Gerald of Wales (12th century), of St David's in Wales. His Welsh origin led him often to use Welsh colloquialisms such as marking directions as being on "the right hand of Severn" rather than to the south of Severn, and he often provided the - sometimes false - Welsh rendition of a placename in addition to the Latin and English. Asser was summoned by King Alfred in the mid 880s to enter into his service and after some consideration he decided, in the early 890s, to accept the offer, dividing his time between the king's retinue and St David's in Wales.

The text is a quaint literary product. Some of the chapters take the shape of chronicle, sometimes even recounting events in France and, on one occasion, passing judgements on the strife following the death of Charles the Fat of the Carolingian empire. Other sections, however, recount with a mixture of fondness and admiration the king's passion for literature, and a large portion of the book is dedicated to a detailed description of how Alfred often had clergymen read aloud to him from Scripture or poetry whenever affairs of the realm allowed him some leisure. A third emphasis - connected to both of the previous ones but the latter in particular - was the king's religious life, how he would go off at night and pray, always hearing mass before going on his morning hunt and how he would care for the poor. These sections comes very close to hagiography and it might have been the case that Asser had certain plans in that direction, but since the manuscript was abruptly left unfinished we shall never know this.

The king's love of literature is a key aspect of this anthology of sources to King Alfred the Great, translated and edited by Simon Keynes and Michael Lapidge. In addition to Asser's biography there are selections from the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, a project instigated by Alfred himself, excerpts from works by Pope Gregory, Augustine and Boethius translated into Old English at the king's behest and a compilation of other - chiefly legislative - sources. All in all it is a treasure trove for anyone who wishes a better insight in the era of King Alfred and the various literary and political undertakings that make his reign such an interesting period.

Despite his sobriquet "the Great" Alfred only achieved this fame relatively late and it is doubtful whether he was held in particularly high regard by the first generations following his death. The Cistercian monk Aelred of Rievaulx, Edward the Confessor's last Latin hagiographer, dedicated an extensive section of his Genealogy of the English Kings (1157-58) to "the very pious King Alfred", but how old this tradition was at the time of Aelred's composition is uncertain.

Alfred was the son of Æthelwulf and Osburh and became king of Wessex on the death of his brother Æthelred in 871, ruling the kingdom until his death in 899. The time of his reign was a tempestuous era of recurring attacks from marauding Vikings and his biographer Asser notes that Alfred was greatly troubled "by the relentless attacks of foreign peoples, which he continually sustained from land and sea without any interval of peace." These tribulations caused enormous material and - more importantly - human damage throughout Britain and to ward off the raiders Alfred was forced into guerilla warfare and spurred on to improve fortifications and build new strongholds where required. The reader sometimes learns of fierce encounters between the king's army and the Vikings, such as the breaching of York's walls in 867.

For in those days the city did not yet have firm and secure walls.

- Life of King Alfred, Asser

To me, however, the time of King Alfred is of interest not so much because of the ceaseless carnage, but because of the great literary endeavours that took place in that period, samples of which comprise an important part of the anthology as noted above. Illiterate and speaking only the vernacular Alfred had several texts of great cultural importance translated into Old English, and he himself kept a book in which he had jotted down certain passages of particular beauty which he carried on his body. Asser shows a particular fondness in recounting these details and likewise at the end of the document where, as the epigraph illustrates, the king's men are admonished for not being literate. A similar satisfaction on the part of Asser can be detected when the king "prompted by Heaven, took it upon himself to begin on the rudiments of Holy Scripture on St Martin's Day", 11 November, 887, i.e. when the king decided to learn Latin sufficiently enough to master the various extracts he had gathered in his little book.

This is, all in all, a delightful anthology, perfect for the Medieval enthusiast and a good starting point for those interested in the cultural exchange of the Anglo-Saxon world. In time, when time and money allow, I look forward to add it to my own book collection.