30 Apr 2016

Where History Is Annoying

I love history. It is a weekly regret that I didn't do a history degree, although I have done a history module. I'm seriously considering doing either an MA or a postgrad certificate in history next year, depending on funding/grades/confidence. In the mean time, I am voraciously reading primary sources and history books. I think the census, for example, is one of the most beautiful resources our country has, particularly the 1881. God I love the 1881. This makes me strange, allegedly. I also have a penchant for royal history and biography, chiefly because the sources are such good quality. 
But there are a few things that really HACK ME OFF. I'm a total amateur, and may be entirely wrong, but bear with me here.

1. Ye is NOT A FUCKING WORD.
There were extra letters in the Old English alphabet. One of them was thorn, which was shaped like this: Þ. Thorn was pronounced 'th', like in thick and they and THE. In Middle English, which was pronounced very similarly to modern English, despite looking like gibberish, thorn was retained in some dialects, and on into early modern English. However, it began to be written more like a y than a Þ. It looked like this (apologies for teeny tiny picture)


Doesn't that look just like a y? WELL IT BLOODY ISN'T and the amount of times PROPER HISTORIANS translate it as ye instead of the makes my BLOOD BOIL.
So think on, Ye Olde Tea Shoppe.

2. Life Expectancy Is Unrelated to Biological Ageing
In 1900, the average life expectancy of a man was 50. In the middle ages, it was around 35. For women, it was a little less. Some people have taken this information and conflated it to mean that a 35 year old man in 1500 was absolutely WITHERED with age. This is bollocks. A natural lifespan, without accident, severe illness or birth defect, has always been around 65-70. Modern medicine, better midwifery, and improved living conditions means our present life expectancy is around 81.
The biggest factor in the difference between life expectancy and natural lifespan is infant mortality. When you have one in five babies dying in infancy, that drags the life expectancy right down. When you add to that the very high childbirth mortality (one in ten) for women, and then the lack of safe working conditions, monotonous and vitamin-strapped diets, no antibiotics, frequent battles, poor heating and inadequate medical care after injury, it's not surprising a lot of people died in their prime. But plenty of them did not. Edward III lived to be 64 in 1377. His mother lived to 62. These were impressive ages for the time, but mainly because of the vast amount of things that could kill you then. 

3. Fertility and Childbirth Were As Complex Then As Now
I recently read a biography of Isabella of France that stated that she had no more children because she was too old at 34. NO. WRONG. The same book (by Alison Weird) makes the assumption that Isabella and her husband, the much derided Edward II, had infrequent sex because Isabella only had four known children. Fertility, as many women know, is a capricious beast. In my opinion, Isabella was not a terrifically fertile woman who is known to have suffered a slow recovery from the birth of her last child. It is far more likely that she suffered some sort of birth injury that compromised her fertility than she went through the menopause at 28. Fertility is linked to living circumstances - menarche happens earlier in well-nourished women, and menopause a little later - and the menopause certainly didn't happen nearly two decades earlier in the middle ages. Isabella's daughter in law Phillippa had her last child in her 40s, as did Eleanor of Aquitane (who lived to the exceedingly ripe age of 81, in the twelfth century), Eleanor of Castile, and Elizabeth Woodville. Except where women were widowed, infertile, or died young, this seems to be the rule rather than exception. 

No, you've got PMT. 

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