King John Was Not A Good Man…*
It’s a big week in History Land. History bloggers, history buffs, #twitterstorians** and re-enactors are all aflutter about the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo on Friday. But today we pause to recognize another historical anniversary, one that is less flashy and more ambiguous--the signing of the Magna Carta at Runnymeade in 1215.
[If you want an even shorter explanation of the Magna Carta--with a level of snark that I have not allowed myself--watch this video from the British Library. (Who knew the British Library had attitude?) If you're reading this via e-mail, you may need to click through to your browser.]
Eight hundred years ago, forty English barons rebelled against what they perceived as excessive tax demands on the part of King John, baby brother of Richard the Lionhearted.*** Rebellion against Norman kings was nothing new. (They were often perceived to be milking England to pay for wars in France--and they often were.) The fact that the disgruntled barons were able to force King John to negotiate was. The Magna Carta was the result of those negotiations: sixty-nine clauses designed to protect the rights of a small elite group of men. Many of the clauses were very specific to the time and place: the removal of fish weirs from the Thames, for instance, had little impact on the larger course of history. Others had enormous, and probably unintended, consequences, most notably the idea that no man, whether king, baron, fishmonger or policeman, is above the law.
In the short run, the Magna Carta was a bust. King John immediately sent messengers to the Pope asking (or perhaps demanding) that the charter be annulled. The Pope, who did not like the charter’s terms and may well have been troubled by the precedent of subjects forcing legal changes on ruling monarchs, issued a papal bull describing the charter as “illegal, unjust, harmful to royal rights and shameful to the English people” and declaring it “null and void of all validity for ever.”**** With the charter void, civil war quickly broke out between king and barons. King John raised an army of mercenaries, which suggests that his position was not a popular one. The barons renounced their allegiance to John and offered the crown to his cousin, Prince Louis of France. (A tactic that Parliament would emulate several centuries later in the Glorious Revolution.) The war, and the immediate legal value of the Magna Carta, ended when John died of dysentery on October 18, 1216.
From the barons’ point of view, John’s nine-year-old son Henry looked like a better choice than Louis for king. (Under-age kings provide so many opportunities for the nobility to grab power.) The young king issued three revised versions of the Magna Carta during his reign, the first as a condition of succeeding his father on the throne.
Over the long run, the historical importance of the Magna Carta depended on one clause, buried deep in the original document and seen as relatively insignificant by its framers:
No free man shall be seized or imprisoned, or stripped of is rights or possessions, or outlawed or exiled, or deprived of his standing in any other way, not will we proceed with force against him, or send others to do so, except by the lawful judgement of his equals or by the law of the land.
To no one will we see, to no one deny or delay right or justice.*****
When this clause was first written it applied to only a few: “free men” were an elite in a society in which freedom as we know it was rare and the reference to men was literal. In the intervening eight centuries, it has become the foundation for the right to justice and a free trial for all within British Common Law, the American Bill of Rights, and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights--an ideal that we value even though we do not always live up to it.
*To quote A.A. Milne, who was probably referring to an entirely different King John: “King John was not a good man. He had his little ways. And sometimes no one spoke to him for days and days and days.” "King John's Christmas". Now We Are Six
**Yes, you read that correctly. Historians on twitter are #twitterstorians.
***Who was not exactly the heroic king that popular history makes him out to be. But that’s another story.
****Not one of his infallible days.
*****“We” being King John and the mouse in his pocket.
If you can’t go to Waterloo….
Let Waterloo come to you.
You may have heard--June 18th is the 200th anniversary of the Battle of Waterloo. Hundreds of thousands of history buffs, nerds, geeks and buggs* will gather in Belgium to watch 5000 enthusiasts and 300 bewildered horses reenact the battle. My guess is that plenty of them are already there, drinking beer and eating frites. (With mayo, not catsup. Because that's the way the Belgians do it. And a mighty fine way it is, too.)
Those of us who don't have tickets are not out of luck. ** One of my favorite websites, Military History Now,*** is hosting a real-time virtual reenactment created by game developers Matrix Games and The Slitherine Group. Eight hours of simulated nineteenth century battle on your computer stream--or at least as much of it as you can bear arrange to watch. That is some serious geek-ery.
Personally, I plan on having it on in the background while I work--the way my Grandpa Mahaney used to listen to the Cardinals while he worked in his shop.
Are you in?****
*My favorite typo ever. Why yes, I am a history bugg. Aren't you?
** In fact, maybe we're the lucky ones. That's going to be one big crowd.
***If you're interested in "the strange, off-beat and lesser-known aspects of military history", you'll love it too.
****Here are the practical bits:
- Streaming is scheduled to start at 11:30 AM Central European Time (4:30 AM in my time zone), when the initial attack occurred. Because that's what a real-time reenactment means.
- It will be streamed via a TwitchStream channel. (Don't ask. I don't know.)
- Check http://militaryhistorynow.com/ or MHN's Twitter feed @MilHistNow for updates
A hat tip to friend and fellow history buff Scottie Kersta-Wilson for calling this to my attention. I love Military History Now, but I don't always read their posts the day they arrive. I'd have kicked somethng if I'd missed this.
Lovelace, Babbage, and Steampunk Comics
Normally when I use the phrase "comic-book history" here on the Margins I'm referring to the shorthand popular version of history that we learned as children and carry in our hearts as adults: Abraham Lincoln dashing off the Gettysburg address on the back of an envelope, the first American Thanksgiving, Marie Antoinette's infamous line "let them eat cake--like that. These historical anecdotes are at best incomplete versions of history and at worst absolutely wrong, but they are emotionally satisfying so they live on no matter how often they are debunked.*
Today, though, I'm going to talk about a real comic book, described by its author as "an imaginary comic about an imaginary computer.": The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage, The (Mostly) True Story of the First Computer.
Sydney Padua starts out with two real people:
Augusta Ada King (1815-1852) , the Countess of Lovelace, better known as Ada Lovelace. Daughter of the famous (and infamous) Lord Byron, Lovelace was a talented mathematician. Most women with that skill in her time would have had no opportunity to use it. Lucky for her, her mother insisted that she be educated in a rigorous program of math and science well outside the norm for young women of the time, hoping such study would counteract any poetical tendencies she might have inherited from her father. ** (In case you're not up on nineteenth century gossip, it was a spectacularly unhappy marriage.)
Charles Babbage (1791-1857) was an irascible and inventive mathematician and tinkerer who is often called the "father of the computer". He designed two machines intended to automate complex calculations: the difference machine and the later, more complicated analytical engine.
Lovelace was fascinated by his work. When asked to translate an Italian engineer's article on the analytical machine into English, she added her own notes to the piece*** in which she described how code could be written that would expand the use of the machine. Making her the first computer programmer. At least in theory.
Padua tells the history of Lovelace and Babbage in twenty-five smart, snarky, footnoted pages--then revolts against the fact that history gives her characters unhappy endings.**** The rest of the smart, snarky, footnoted comic takes place in an alternative steampunk universe where Lovelace and Babbage "live to complete the analytical engine and use it to have thrilling adventures and fight crime." Padua takes elements of nineteenth century history (Luddites, for example) and historical personages (Queen Victoria among them) and twists them into unhistorical forms that are nonetheless historically illuminating. It's quite a trick and makes me think of Marianne Moore's definition of poetry as the ability to create "real toads in imaginary gardens".
*My apologies to those of you who have heard this rant before, either here or In Real Life.
**This seems to have been based on a fundamental lack of understanding of the poetical properties inherent in higher mathematics and the amount of imagination required to make scientific leaps.
***Three times the length of the original article.
****Lovelace had a drug habit, tried (unsuccessfully) to use her mathematical skills to build a gambling system, and died young of uterine cancer. Babbage, being irascible, was in constant fights with just about everyone and never built his analytical engine. In part because he was in constant fights with just about everyone.