Account of the life and times of Eleanor of Aquitaine. Takes us through the highs and lows, and attempts to fill in the blanks based more on the authoAccount of the life and times of Eleanor of Aquitaine. Takes us through the highs and lows, and attempts to fill in the blanks based more on the authors opinion than a close reading of the sources. The author seems to pick and choose when to take a source’s word and when to doubt it based on what suits her chosen narrative. Has a relatively low grip on medieval history more loosely related to main subject. Sets out to give a new reading of the life of Eleanor and succeeds partly, but also shows alluded interpretative biases....more
There are some biographies of Frederick Barbarossa: one in English (by Peter Munz in 1969), and some more recent German ones (Ferdinand Opll, JohannesThere are some biographies of Frederick Barbarossa: one in English (by Peter Munz in 1969), and some more recent German ones (Ferdinand Opll, Johannes Laudage, Knut Görich).
As the subtitle says, this book is about separating the historical ruler from the myth of the German King. To be more precise, the myth that German historians have made of this King in light of their own times and purposes. I have read extensively on the history of the Hohenstaufen, but I did most of that some fifteen years ago. I used lots of older literature then (Ferdinand Opll’s biography of Barbarossa was the most recent one available to me), and I must say I did not realize how much I had been taken in with the “classic Germanistic” view of Barbarossa. It appears I was taken in by the glorious heroic portrayal and perhaps also a smidge of anti-religionism. Some of that can be explained by my relative youth (I was still young enough to think there was something “cool” about a war for conquest), but that still leaves me looking at my younger self as somewhat blinkered.
About the book: the gist of the book is about the first half of Barbarossa’s reign, which is only logical because most of the surviving sources date from or describe this period. Freed has a strong grasp of the material, including the abundance of German scholarly efforts – which are not as readily accessible for non-German readers. This includes the more modern biographies mentioned above. Freed gives us a strong deconstruction of the reign and character of the man (as much as it is possible to know the character of someone who has been dead for more than 830 years). That leaves us with an opportunistic and bombastic reign, which has not only not lived up to it’s own hype, but also disappoints when viewed from earlier historical interpretations. The bare bones of the reign are not in doubt, but the interpretation is. And there is a lot of room to divert from the beaten path. Charters, itineraries and a closer reading of the narrative sources provide Freed with a strong argument. Where it used to be said that Barbarossa wanted to carve out an international kingdom for himself, Freed reduces him to looking for a way to offset his weakened position in Germany. Where the traditional historians see Barbarossa championing the empire versus the princes, Freed points to him being dependent on the princes and merely changing allegiance from the Babenberger (favoured by Conrad III) to the Welfs. Barbarossa’s victory over Henry the Lion is portrayed as a defeat, suggesting Barbarossa did not want to punish him, but was unable to prevent the princes from forcing his hand. And those are just the first points that come to mind.
Overall, this is a big book, coming in at 536 pages (hardcover edition) not counting lots and lots of notes. These are worth the effort if you have scholarly aspirations yourself, but should not annoy the casual reader. Freed is a lifelong medieval historian, and that shows. He also manages to divide his narrative into relatively short chapters, which allow for relatively easy reading – and in this he is nothing like the dry and almost tedious Opll that I read so many years ago. The book is tailored for an American audience, which shows through when Freed tries to make a point by comparing an event to modern day events, or events known to us today (an 1850’s German poem “being as popular among German schoolchildren as Paul Revere’s Ride was to their American counterparts” comes to mind here). Overall, it was a lovely read and I daresay Freed’s magnum opus. Highly recommended for anyone interested in the reign and the politics of the day....more
Overall: a historians wet dream, but too much of the same for the casual reader.
One of the more tumultuous reigns of medieval Germany, Henry IV grew fOverall: a historians wet dream, but too much of the same for the casual reader.
One of the more tumultuous reigns of medieval Germany, Henry IV grew from a child-king into a headstrong but resilient monarch, whose reign was characterised by conflict. Some of his troubles were inherited, some he ran into, and some he caused himself.
Part of Henry’s trouble was inherited, in the dissatisfaction of the princes with certain of his fathers acts. Henry III took his association of the royal family with the kingdom too seriously for some. This was considered meddling a tad too much in tradition and custom. Because of Henry’s relatively sudden death, these problems went unanswered, until they resurfaced during his sons reign.
During his minority, Henry was at the mercy of some of the prominent princes, taken hostage not too long in his mothers regency. The regents (both Henry’s mother when she fulfilled that role, and the archbishops op Cologne and Bremen after her), had to buy the loyalty of the princes, which led to the loss of significant amounts of royal property and rights. It would become a theme in the adult Henry’s life to restore that property and the rights, and led to enduring conflict with the princes. Especially in Saxony, Henry would consistently be faced with the possibility of out-and-out rebellion, which did indeed break out several times.
Another central theme of the reign was the monastic reform-movement, coupled with the papal reforms (ironically made possible by Henry III’s intervention). In short, the traditional royal rights gradually collided with the growing self-awareness of the papal legislators and the demand for canonical purity as a whole. Relinquishing his rights would have meant a severe loss of control over the imperial church, and a government far less potent. But monastic reform was popular amongst the secular princes as well, especially in Swabia, and led to further princely intransigence. When the conflict escalated under pope Gregory VII, Henry was eventually faced with a ready-made oppositional faction that could provide backing for princes rebelling for other reasons. Indeed, the opposi-tional forces repeatedly closed ranks, the Swabian princes electing their own kings under the supervision of a papal legate. Gregory VII, by the way, remained open to a reconciliation for years, until he realised excommunicating Henry was unavoidable.
The book itself is rich on detail, giving lots and lots of quotes from documentary evidence. Because of the upheaval of the times (civil war, papal-royal strife), there is a large amount of written evidence, especially by chroniclers. Robinson essentially bases his narrative on their work, and quotes them very often (to the extent that I began to find them a bit tedious, since the point was often clear enough). Robinson splits his work up in several themes, but keeps the general chronology essentially intact. All in all a very good biography, essentially a political biography with large amounts of theology thrown in. Huge amounts of detail too. If there’s a downside, it’s that the narrative isn’t especially sparkling. But definitely worth the effort....more
According to the blurb, “This is the first complete biography of Ernst Kantorowicz (1895-1963), an influential and controversial German-American intelAccording to the blurb, “This is the first complete biography of Ernst Kantorowicz (1895-1963), an influential and controversial German-American intellectual whose colorful and dramatic life intersected with many of the great events and thinkers of his time”. At first glance, this biography certainly does look complete, but overall, I feel there is something missing. We follow Kantorowicz (who named himself Eka in his correspondence, which the author took up) through the course of his tumultuous life. Kantorowicz was the author of two noted works of Medieval History, Kaiser Friedrich II. (infamous) and The King’s Two Bodies (famous). Both books are now dated, but were ground-breaking in their own way. Kantorowicz was also a nationalistic Jew, who fought for Germany in the First World War and voluntarily joined the Freikorpsen and took up arms in the Weimar era. He was a member of The Secret Germany, a group of somewhat esoteric nationalistic academics and artists, and his biography of Frederick II of Hohenstaufen was a favourite among Nazi’s. He managed to escape from Nazi Germany less than a year before the start of World War II, enjoying an academic career at Berkeley and Princeton. So where did I feel things were missing? The author had access to a wealth of letters written both by Kantorowicz and to Kantorowicz and some people who had known Kantorowicz in real life consented to interviews. Yet for all Kantorowicz’s flamboyance, he doesn’t really jump out at you. I feel something more could have been done with a person with such searing wit and fiery opinions. Sometimes this comes through, but most of the time this book feels a bit like reading an encyclopaedia. The details are there, there are inferences and deductions, but it’s all a bit stale. Conclusion: good and informative, but not gripping....more
This is Goldsworthy’s most recent, most populist – note that the chapter about Lepidus being dropped from the Triumvirate is dubbed “and then there weThis is Goldsworthy’s most recent, most populist – note that the chapter about Lepidus being dropped from the Triumvirate is dubbed “and then there were two” – and (perhaps consequently) least interesting book to date. I’ve read all his works, aside from the shorter to-go editions, and I found this one lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. Perhaps it’s because the couple in the title evoke a certain passion, and Goldsworthy sets out explicitly to squash everything that has been invented about the couple. This shouldn’t surprise me, because his standard approach is to return to the sources and cut through the flights of fancy and invented traditions that generally come with ancient history, from the Punic Wars to Caesar to Antony and Cleopatra. Still, it felt as though his heart wasn’t really in it.
The narrative meanders a bit towards the end, almost as if Antony’s supposed lethargy had a sympathetic effect on the author. Goldsworthy wanted to make this book accessible to a larger audience, and this means that he doesn’t always have or take too much time to explain theories or backgrounds. This is traditionally one of his strengths, but this time he seems to have sacrificed it for pace. As anyone with any position of responsibility knows, you can’t please everyone, and I think that Goldsworthy tried to please too many people, in the end definitely not pleasing me. Perhaps the sales-figures have justified this approach (or will), but I can’t help but wonder.
As for the book itself, it’s not a bad book. It faithfully tracks the lives of Antony and Cleopatra, starting with their ancestors (Antony’s grandfather, and Ptolemy I for Cleopatra). This part of the book is still quite good, and I found the introduction to the Ptolemies and Ptolemaic Egypt particularly insightful.* It was also thoroughly confusing, considering their incestuous dynastic policy. Goldsworthy always takes pleasure from debunking invented traditions, and this book is no exception. He takes the time to point out that the Ptolemies were Greeks from a Greek tradition, and that we do not know what Cleopatra really looked like. Another point he repeatedly makes is that Cleopatra was utterly dependent upon Roman backing, which is why she attached herself to Caesar and Antony. Augustan propaganda has muddied the waters insofar as it served Octavian to paint a picture of Antony as held in thrall by an alien female monarch (three words to send any Roman aristocrat into apoplexy), and Antony himself did not help himself with his increasingly erratic behavior. Furthermore, Goldsworthy points out that luck and opportunity played a part in Antony’s career (for instance he happened to be consul, i.e. in power, when Caesar was murdered) which helped to obscure the fact that he was not as capable as he would like to present himself. Antony seems to have dropped the ball after the disastrous campaign against Parthia, in a way that is hard to explain without giving the impression of lethargy.
In the end, this is a reasonable retelling of a famous episode from ancient history. Goldsworthy is definitely capable, and this book is not bad. However, I don’t think it’s particularly engaging either, which is a pity.
* If you who read this review know of a good book on this subject, feel free to let me know. ...more
This book is officially about the Leper King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV, but you could perhaps better call it a political history of the Kingdom of JeruThis book is officially about the Leper King of Jerusalem, Baldwin IV, but you could perhaps better call it a political history of the Kingdom of Jerusalem in the face of the Muslim threat of re-conquest. The author gives an overview and interpretation of the events from ca. 1165-1190, outlining major political motives and strategies. You could almost say that Baldwin comes second to the greater narrative, but that doesn’t detract from the strength of this work. It’s a great case study for Medieval politics, and truly fascination description of a kingdom under external threat suffering from internal turmoil.
Baldwin IV was King of Jerusalem from 1174 until his death in 1184. His affliction with leprosy was suspected when he was about 10, by William of Tyre (who was his tutor), who gave a moving description of the incident in A History of Deeds Done Beyond the Sea: apparently Baldwin and the other boys were playing a game where they would take turns pinching each other’s arms, and William was surprised to note that Baldwin appeared to feel no pain in his left arm. Doctors consulted (some of the best Arab doctors, appointed by the king) noted that the indications were likely for leprosy, even though a formal diagnosis was impossible until years later, when lesions would start to appear.
However, this is a scholarly work, so Hamilton starts with a description of the sources. He discusses both William of Tyre and the Eracles, the principal sources for this period, at length. Those readers who are not particularly interested in motivations of Medieval chroniclers or separate editions of surviving manuscripts are free to skip this part. For our understanding of the sources, it’s important to note that, for instance, William of Tyre was chancellor of the kingdom, but he took sides in the internal struggle for control. He is a very knowledgeable source, but he sometimes veils certain descriptions when he can’t be too open for the good of the kingdom, and he uses the method of “damning with faint praise” and outright neglect for those he holds responsible for frustrating his career. Throughout the book, Hamilton also uses Muslims sources (mainly Ibn al-Athir, Imad ad-Din and Baha ad-Din) and the occasional Byzantine and Orthodox source, giving (in my view) the most complete picture of events in this period we are ever likely to get.
The second part of the book is about the growing power of the most prominent Muslim rulers facing the Crusader Kingdom, Nur ad-Din and Saladin, and the efforts of both Baldwin III and Amalric (Baldwin IV’s uncle and father, respectively). A notable aspect here is the alliance of the Crusader kingdom with Byzantium; both Baldwin III and Amalric (though Amalric had to divorce the mother of Baldwin IV and Sybilla) took Byzantine wives, and Baldwin even went to Constantinople to discuss the alliance. This alliance was primarily centered on the conquest of Egypt, seen by Amalric as the basis of Saladins power and the heart of the threat against the kingdom. Here also the underlying problem of the kingdom, too few military resources and division amongst the upper nobility, became apparent. When great lords from the West came to the kingdom for their private crusades, they were both enticed by the semi-independent rulers of Antioch and Tripoli to further their ends, and thwarted by the leading nobles who did not want to see them stay on and gain power at their cost; this included territory to be won in Egypt, thereby severely damaging Amalric’s prospects for a successful conquest and ultimately damaging the kingdom’s chances of survival.
The third part starts with Baldwin IV’s ascension, and the division of power in the kingdom. Hamilton notes that there are two primary factions at court, Raymond of Tripoli (William’s patron) and the Ibelins on one side, and Baldwin’s mother Agnes of Courtenay with her family (and Reynald of Chatillon) on the other. At first Raymond of Tripoli was regent during Baldwin’s minority, and he apparently did well, but not entirely to Baldwin’s satisfaction as Baldwin changed tack after reaching the age of majority. Most prominently Raymond sought appeasement with Saladin, whereas Baldwin saw more in the line of constant aggression against Saladin, which was advocated by Reynald of Chatillon. Reynald received a bad press by William of Tyre, and also Sir Steven Runciman, but Hamilton gives us another picture of the man. His line of aggression towards Saladin was a continuation of Amalric’s policies, and intended to deny Saladin the peace he required to expand his conquests in Syria. Their position that Saladin would eventually attack the Crusader kingdom no matter what seems justified. Against that, Raymond or Tripoli twice tried to seize power in the kingdom, and after Baldwin’s death made a private truce with Saladin which Hamilton considers an act of treason. Ironically, William of Tyre, and also Runciman, favour Raymond of Tripoli as the wisest head and the best choice for the regency, and the Ibelins as the best men of the kingdom. Hamilton’s closer reading of the sources suggests otherwise. It is argued that Sybilla of Jerusalem was married to Guy of Lusignan to prevent Raymond and his allies marrying her off to one of the Ibelins, which also puts a very different perspective on the disastrous campaign of Hattin in 1187 (where Guy was isolated and unable to trust many of his most important barons). This division between the highest nobility is what cost the kingdom its best chances to turn the tide, starting with the Second Crusade, and following that up with the failed attempts to annex Egypt and strike at Saladin when he was still relatively weak.
Hamilton continues his narrative with the short reign of Baldwin V and subsequently Guy of Lusignan, though he treats these only briefly. As an appendix there is an article from a medical journal about Baldwin’s leprosy, which argues why lepromatous leprosy (the most severe kind) was the kind that Baldwin contracted. Throughout the book there will be re-evaluations of the sources, and explanations on why Hamilton chose the interpretations that he did.
Also, because you can’t make this up, according to Wikipedia the return address on a package bomb sent by Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula was Reynald Krak, a reference to Reynald of Chatillon....more
Lemmy literally phoned this book in. Luckily a journalist took notes. It's a fun story about Rock 'n Roll ftom the 70s to the late 90s/early 00s, carrLemmy literally phoned this book in. Luckily a journalist took notes. It's a fun story about Rock 'n Roll ftom the 70s to the late 90s/early 00s, carried all the way by Lemmy's characteristic style. Not extremely deep, but brutally honest, and always a laugh....more
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