There are lots of different ways of looking at history: social, political and economic to name but three. if you study medieval political history it will inevitably seem to be dominated by men. It’s only in more recent times that the lens of social history has altered some of the viewpoints that were a given in the past.
We also all apply our own filters to everything around us, so inevitably we do the same to historical events. We approach them from our own viewpoint and our own time.
And if you want, you can look at an event through a range of different lenses including historical significance; primary evidence and interpretation; continuity and change; cause and consequence; historical perspective; science; and ethical judgment. Applying the lenses produces a deeper and, perhaps more accurate, understanding of the event. Only when a lens is changed do we realise that the old focus could have been improved – and inevitably looking through multiple lenses can be confusing at times, especially if the information is conflicting or just plain new. Seeing things through different perspectives isn’t always easy and there are limits to some lenses because of the lack of primary source material.
Oh yes – and this is just a short list of possible lenses – I’ve not started talking about the Marxist view of history! Or indeed a feminist view of history.
And that brings me to the image at the top of the post. Only when you know that the image is of the slave market at Richmond, Virginia do you realise that the neatly dressed men, women and children are waiting to be sold; its impossible to know if a family group waiting together, if they’ll continue their lives with one another or whether they’ll be sold separately; will the mothers be allowed to stay with their children? Nor can we know the circumstances in which the work was made until we read Crowe’s recollections:
On rough benches were sitting, huddled close to- gether, neatly dressed in grey, young negro girls with white collars fastened by scarlet bows, and in white aprons. The form of a woman clasping her infant, ever touching, seemed the more so here. There was a muscular field-labourer sitting apart; a rusty old stove filled up another space. Having rapidly sketched these features, I had not time to put my outline away before the whole group of buyers and dealers were in the compartment. I thought the best plan was to go on unconcernedly; but, perceiving me so engaged, no one would bid. The auctioneer, who had mounted his table, came down and asked me whether, “if I had a business store, and someone came in and interrupted my trading, I should like it.” This was unanswerable; I got up with the intention of leaving quietly, but, feeling this would savour of flight, I turned round to the now evidently angry crowd of dealers, and said, “You may turn me away, but I can recollect all I have seen.”
And its only on reading another account, social and economic, that it becomes clear that men selling slaves dressed their ‘merchandise’ well in order to draw their buyers’ eyes – and in dressing everyone similarly it was possibly to disguise men and women who might be unwell or sickly. In either event, it reduced people to objects – and that isn’t what any modern viewer sees when they first look at the picture – it’s only when the other lens are applied that the full horror of the image being depicted becomes apparent.
Crowe didn’t paint this as a historical painting – it was a social comment on the America he was visiting with Anthony Trollope. It would have to be said though that there are very few images from the period depicting black history (unless you count the images created by the abolitionists designed specifically to arouse sympathy) – demonstrating that even in the more recent past history’s lens becomes unfocused and fragmentary because some very important parts of the jigsaw are missing – to mix my metaphors.
And don’t forget that the stories we see are snapshots. The image above is an etic snapshot – it’s of Crowe looking in and making his observations His account of the way he came to make his image is an emic snapshot – it’s his internal viewpoint. Etic and emic are more usually associated with the social sciences rather than history.
At the beginning of the English Civil War, in 1642, William Cavendish of Bolsover and Welbeck Abbey who was the Earl of Newcastle at that time gave Charles I £10,00 and raised a troop of 200 horsemen. In June of that year William was sent to secure Newcastle. He was on his way to becoming the king’s general in the north and about to start a military dance with Lord Ferndinado Fairfax and his son Sir Thomas Fairfax that would only end in 1644. Not that it was all plain sailing. The slide to war met with opposition and not every local lord was keen on Cavendish’s recruitment campaign.
At the Battle of Marston Moor Newcastle’s Regiment of Foot were killed almost to a man. They remained in formation in the centre of the Royalist line and it is thought defended White Syke Close. The Parliamentarians recognising their bravery asked for their surrender but the regiment refused. By the time the Whitecoats died the battle was already lost – their deaths were futile. They were buried in mass graves where they fell. If you walk the route of the Battle of Marston Moor White Syke Close is marked on the ordinance survey map. Alternatively take advantage of a Country File walk which outlines the battle and leads you on a circular walk, 
This is episode two of my three part look at Amy Robsart’s life and death – as with any other historical death involving persons of political significance where there isn’t a clear cause there are always conspiracy theories – not that Amy was of political significance but her husband was. So, this episode looks at what history does know without making any attempt to identify the probable cause of Lady Dudley’s demise – aside of course from her being found at the bottom of a staircase…and even the size and shape stairs are a matter of conjecture as we shall discover next time.
I have been reading a Social History of Women in England 450-1500 by Henrietta Leyser in between finding out about John of Gaunt’s retinue as it is sometimes easy to impose our own views and beliefs on the events of a particular period. Interestingly it was only in the twelfth century that the Church came up with a consistent view of what constituted a marriage and what wordage was required from the couple who it joined in wedlock and whether the marriage needed to be consummated in order to be legally binding.
The need to apply for papal dispensation where cousins removed were to be married often fitted into a rather lengthy negotiation process where the marriage was more of a seal on an alliance than a love match. Prior to a couple’s betrothal a financial settlement had to be agreed. A bride’s family was expected to settle a dowry upon her. This was her share of her inheritance. It often took the form of goods and cash as well as land which her own mother might have brought into her own marriage. In return the bride would receive dower rights from the lands which her groom held i.e. the income from those lands was hers. Once the marriage settlement had been agreed then there would be a betrothal ceremony. Given that these betrothals often took place where at least one of the participants was a very young child the betrothal wasn’t always binding. Effectively where children had not yet reached the age of reason it was much easier to wriggle out of a marriage alliance than after. Margaret Beaufort was betrothed by her guardian to his son John de la Pole at the age of six but was rebetrothed on the orders of Henry VI to his half-brother Edmund Tudor three years later. Seven was regarded as the age of reason and after that time is was harder to break a betrothal. A full coming of age was twelve for girls and fourteen for boys though even at the time Edmund Tudor’s treatment of his child bride raised eyebrows.
