Oracle Bones
Historical texts sometimes take surprising forms. The earliest Chinese written records for instance are the “oracle bones” that were used in used in the art of “scapulimancy”, or bone divination, in Shang dynasty China (ca. 1600 -1046 BCE).
The language used on the oracle bones was rediscovered in 1899 by a Chinese scholar named Wang, who was stunned to realize that the piece of "dragon bone" he had purchased to pound into medication was inscribed with what looked like a primitive form of Chinese writing. Wang’s discovery gave scholars information on Shang dynasty history that didn’t appear in official dynastic histories. (Including the story of general Fu Hao (d. ca.1200 BCE) who flourished and fought to defend the Shang dynasty—the earliest woman warrior I know of for whom we have a name and a story. )
Royal diviners used the shoulder blade of an ox or the bottom shell of a turtle to help Shang aristocrats seek the advice of their ancestors or other supernatural beings. (In fact, they seem to have preferred using turtle shells. But “oracle turtles” lacks a certain gravitas in English.) The diviner inscribed his questions on its surface, exposed the bone or shell to heat, and interpreted the resulting cracks for answers. They asked for forecasts regarding weather,* and crops. They asked about the outcome of hunting trips, travel, military campaigns and childbirth. They questioned when certain kinds of religious ceremonies should be performed and what their dreams meant.
Now those questions give us a glimpse into the lives and concerns of people long gone. Lots of glimpses. Chinese archaeologists have excavated roughly 100,000 examples from fifteen separate sites near Anyang, the site of the Shang capital. Who knows how many thousands of inscribed oracle bones were pounded into powder for medicine before Wang rediscovered their purpose?
*Some human concerns are constant across the millennia.
In which I read up on 1066
At the end of May, My Own True Love and I are traveling to Normandy with a tour led by the National World War II Museum.* The focus of the trip is D-Day. I am sure it will be wonderful, because the museum knows its stuff. But I must admit the part of the trip that I'm most excited about is seeing the Bayeux "tapestry", which really isn't a tapestry at all. The 230-foot long embroidered chronicle of William the Conqueror's invasion of England in 1066, created within a generation of the invasion combines two of my favorite things in one glorious stop: history and needlework.
I was already familiar with the broad story of the invasion, thanks in part to a water-logged visit to Hastings several years ago. Nonetheless, because I am a history bugg** to the bone, I decided to read up. After a bit of poking around on-line for recommendations, I settled on David Howarth's 1066: The Year of the Conquest. The combined history buggs/buffs/nerds/enthusiasts of the internet did not let me down.
Howarth writes a clear and fast-paced account of the invasion, firmly set in its historical context, without losing sight of the contemporary sources and their prejudices--a historical juggling act of the highest order.*** He tells us what his own prejudices are right up front in a passage that sets the tone for the book: "Personally, I think that if I had been around at the time I would have liked King Harold, heartily disliked King Edward the confessor, felt sorry for Earl Tostig and terrified of Duke William, and found nothing whatever to say to King Harold Hardrada of Norway." ****
Having got that off his chest, Howarth begins by comparing the worlds of England and Normandy in the years before the invasion, particularly in terms of their recent experience (or lack of experience) of warfare. (I must admit, his description of English society before the conquest called to mind the Shire in Tolkien's Middle Earth.) Over and over he provided a detail that clarified things I already knew--like the difference between the shaggy little English horses (Middle Earth again) and Norman war steeds, or the importance of papal support to the Norman cause.
The most enlightening part of the book for me was Howarth's discussion of the difficulties William the Conqueror had to overcome to set his invasion in motion. The Normans may have been descendants of Vikings but they weren't known for naval warfare. (William himself had probably only been on a ship once before he set out across the Channel.) They had to build a fleet from scratch. Because Normans fought on horseback, they had to plan their ships around the need to transport horses. Which meant they were dependent on sails rather than oars, which were the preferred technology for sea-going vessels in Northern Europe at the time. It is obvious that William the Conqueror's success was by no means a given. In fact, as described by Howarth, the difficulties were so overwhelming that the whole idea must have sounded loony tunes to his contemporaries.
In short, Howath's 1066 is an engaging read that left me with a richer understanding of the people and issues of the Norman invasion.
I had planned to move on to one of the books on the museum's suggested D-Day reading list, several of which sit on My Own True Love's bookshelves, and various horizontal surfaces in our living room. But I notice that Howarth also wrote a book on D-Day. Tempting. Very tempting.
* Which I apparently never wrote a blog post about after our visit as part of our Great River Road in 2015. The short version: It's fabulous.
**A recurring typo that I have embraced. Think of it as a history nerd who really burrows in.
***I intend to look closely at how he does what he does in a future newsletter. If this is the kind of thing you're interested and you don't yet subscribe, you can do so here: http://eepurl.com/cobpk9
****I wish I'd had the courage to start my dissertation with a similar disclaimer: "I've spent the last twenty years surrounded by a group of talented men for whom I had little affection and less respect. Sir Walter Scott was the only one among them with whom I'd have willingly shared a drink."
In Which I Consider the Smithsonian Channel’s Epic Warrior Women
Last night My Own True Love, Ms. Whiskey-Cat and I settled in to watch the first episode of the Smithsonian Channel's new series, Epic Warrior Women.
The episode, titled "Amazons," dealt with the women warriors of Scythia--an ancient culture of nomadic horsemen (and women) from the Central Asian steppes and the earliest known women warriors.
The program was an engaging mix of historical fact and historical fiction. The scripted story of a young Scythian girl who grew up to be the war leader of her tribe was interwoven with scholars discussing what we know about the Scythians and how we know it* and footage of the nomadic people of modern Kazakhstan.** The story, complete with sex, drugs and the prehistoric equivalent of rock and roll, gave the program a vehicle for historical speculation and emotional connection with a person that would have been hard to establish otherwise. The scholars provided a surprising depth of context for the story in the course of an hour, drawing on information from ancient texts, grave goods, human remains, anthropological comparisons with modern nomads, and the evidence provided by the relatively new discipline of bioarchaeology.
The scripted story had a few heart-in-the-throat moments, but Adrienne Mayor provided the show's most thrilling moment when she summed up the thread of the program near the end. The women warriors described in ancient texts were real, not fantasy: "We have the proof in their bones."
Bottom line? I'll be in front of the television next week, eager to learn about female gladiators in classical Rome.
*Including Adrienne Mayor, author of The Amazons: Lives and Legends of Warrior Women Across the Ancient World--a book I can't recommend highly enough.
**Most of what we know about ancient steppe cultures comes from their burial mounds, known as kurgans, which can be found from the Balkans to Siberia. These rich physical finds are supplemented by the often sensational accounts written by outsiders, beginning with Herodotus, and occasionally with reference to the oral traditions and customs of the existing peoples of the Eurasian steppes. I must admit, development theories about ancient Scythian culture by drawing from modern Kazakh life makes this historian a bit queasy.