tag:theconversation.com,2011:/africa/topics/anglo-saxon-32248/articles
Anglo Saxon – The Conversation
2023-10-03T11:25:52Z
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/209163
2023-10-03T11:25:52Z
2023-10-03T11:25:52Z
The burials that could challenge historians’ ideas about Anglo-Saxon gender
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/540153/original/file-20230731-29-viqvo1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=27%2C27%2C4573%2C2559&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Saxon burial mound in Taplow, England.</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/saxon-burial-mound-taplow-england-1778768042">mbarredo/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>There are a significant number of <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/journals/antiquity/article/viking-warrior-women-reassessing-birka-chamber-grave-bj581/7CC691F69FAE51DDE905D27E049FADCD">Anglo-Saxon burials</a> where the estimated anatomical sex of the skeleton does not align with the gender implied by the items they were buried with. Some bodies identified as male have been buried with feminine clothing, and some bodies identified as female have been found in the sorts of “warrior graves” typically associated with men. </p>
<p>In the <a href="https://www.barpublishing.com/the-spindle-and-the-spear-a-critical-enquiry-into-the-construction-and-meaning-of-gender-in-the-early-anglo-saxon-burial-rite.html">archaeology of early Anglo-Saxon England</a>, weaponry, horse-riding equipment and tools are thought to signal masculinity, while jewellery, sewing equipment and beads signal femininity. And, for the most part, this pattern fits. </p>
<p>So far though, no convincing explanation has been put forward for the burials which appear to invert the pattern. My PhD research asks whether looking at these atypically gendered burials through the lens of trans theory and the 21st-century language of “transness” has the <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/27111445">potential to improve historians’ understanding</a> of early Anglo-Saxon gender.</p>
<p>Atypically gendered burials <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/core/books/trans-and-genderqueer-subjects-in-medieval-hagiography/E094ABC7CD4B64802F4AC1E54588705E">are generally excluded as “outliers”</a> in excavation reports and subsequent research. This relies on the anachronistic idea that historical societies followed a system of sex, gender and sexuality aligning with 19th-century western standards.</p>
<p>This idea is so common that <a href="https://bradscholars.brad.ac.uk/handle/10454/9906">many people believe</a> these three aspects of humanity have remained unchanged throughout history. But such an approach may mean that there are aspects of how gender was understood in early Anglo-Saxon England (circa AD450 to 750) that are going unrecognised today. </p>
<p>Using <a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/43967044">approaches from trans studies</a> – which acknowledge the potential for genders beyond a male-female binary in historical cultures – allows researchers to approach these burials more critically. It also brings these graves – and the lives of the people buried in them – into meaningful historical research, rather than leaving them to be discarded from studies as outliers. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="An ornate golden belt buckle" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/535813/original/file-20230705-7861-ajdex1.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/535813/original/file-20230705-7861-ajdex1.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/535813/original/file-20230705-7861-ajdex1.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/535813/original/file-20230705-7861-ajdex1.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/535813/original/file-20230705-7861-ajdex1.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/535813/original/file-20230705-7861-ajdex1.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/535813/original/file-20230705-7861-ajdex1.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<span class="caption">The golden belt buckle discovered in the Sutton Hoo burial hoard.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Sutton_Hoo_(3).JPG">Jononmac46/Wiki Commons</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Eleven burials from the fifth to eighth century found in the <a href="https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/library/browse/issue.xhtml?recordId=1087779">pre-Christian cemetery of Buckland, Dover</a> were designated as “discrepancies” in their cemetery excavation reports. This was due to a perceived misalignment in the sex of the skeleton and the gender associations of the items they were buried with. </p>
<p>This makes them a good place to begin exploring an interpretation of these burials through the lens of transness, as a possible explanation for this “discrepancy”. A closer look at two of these burials, “Grave 30” and “Grave 93”, offers insight into the complexities of gender in this period.</p>
<h2>Inside Grave 30</h2>
<p>The <a href="https://archaeologydataservice.ac.uk/library/browse/issue.xhtml?recordId=1087779">occupant of “Grave 30”</a> was between 35 and 40 years old, buried around AD600, and was designated “definitely male” in the excavation report, based on their skeletal features. </p>
<p>At a depth of 0.61 metres, Grave 30 is especially deep for this period. This suggests they were a person of high status, as the energy expended digging a person’s grave reflects the regard in which they were held by their community. </p>
<p>This is further suggested by the person having suffered from five cavities – the result of a high-sugar diet. The absence of enamel hypoplasia (horizontal lines which appear on the teeth during periods of malnutrition) also demonstrates that their access to food was reliable. </p>
<p>In the grave was a bone comb, a silver-gilt brooch, a silver pin, 84 beads, a silver pendant, a buckle, a knife and a set of iron keys – a rich collection which emphasises their high status.</p>
<p>All of these items are associated with femininity and are anticipated finds in cisgender female graves (burials where a female skeleton is accompanied by artefacts considered feminine). The brooch and pin, for example, were both parts of seventh century feminine clothing. </p>
<p>We will never know exactly who this person was, or how they fit into their community. But taking a trans studies approach to the burial evidence, I can theorise that this could be interpreted as the grave of a wealthy trans woman, who wore fine silver jewellery, ate as well as any of her contemporaries and on her buckled belt proudly bore the large iron keys of the home she managed.</p>
<h2>Inside Grave 93</h2>
<p>The person in “Grave 93” was also estimated to have died aged between 35 and 40. They were designated “possibly female” in the excavation report, poor preservation not allowing for complete certainty.</p>
<p>Grave 93 is not as deep a grave as 30, but is still large. There is evidence of tooth cavities known as “occlusal fissures”, often caused or exacerbated by feminising hormones, particularly during pregnancy. This evidence supports the
designation of the skeleton as female, but doesn’t preclude transness as an explanation for this burial in the light of the accompanying artefacts. </p>
<p>This person was buried alongside a sword, a spearhead, fragments of a decorated shield, one glass bead (likely attached to the sword), an iron rod, a bronze band, iron fragments of a buckle and a bronze ring.</p>
<p>The sword makes this one of only 17 graves excavated in the cemetery to contain such a high-status weapon. The combination of weapons is the archetypal assemblage of an Anglo-Saxon “<a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/650808">warrior grave</a>”. </p>
<p>Again, we will never be able to know for sure who this person was in life. Such a burial does not necessarily signify that the person was a warrior. However, it does indicate that they were of high status and operated in a masculine sphere. </p>
<p>A trans studies reading of the burial evidence suggests this could be interpreted as the grave of a trans man who enjoyed a position of respect in his community, displaying his wealth, masculinity – and perhaps warrior status – through his shield, sword and spear. </p>
<p>There are other possible explanations for these burials. Perhaps the weapons in Grave 93 were family heirlooms, buried with a woman who was the last of that family line, or were the possessions of a “warrior woman” along the lines of Lagertha in the TV series Vikings. </p>
<p>As there are so many variable factors and we can’t speak with the people in these burials, any historical theory on gender in this period can only ever be speculative. A trans-exclusionary interpretation of the burial evidence is no less selective – it operates through as modern a lens as a trans-inclusive interpretation and requires just as many assumptions. </p>
<p>While trans-inclusive approaches can’t offer a definite explanation for burials which sit outside of a traditional understanding of Anglo-Saxon gender, the insights they offer are equally evidence-based. Bringing these “anomalous” burials out of the footnotes and into mainstream scholarship offers new perspectives into the earliest iteration of the English-speaking world.</p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/536131/original/file-20230706-17-460x2d.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>James Davison does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Skeletons found with items that don’t align with their estimated sex are usually excluded from research – but that assumes a 19th century view of gender.
James Davison, PhD Candidate in Medieval History, University of Liverpool
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/199928
2023-02-27T06:08:40Z
2023-02-27T06:08:40Z
Wulf and Eadwacer: why I think I’ve solved the mystery of this Old English poem
<p>Wulf and Eadwacer occupies just a few lines in <a href="https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/exeter-book">the Exeter Book</a>, an anthology of mostly anonymous Old English poems made in the second half of the 10th century. As a relic of a literary culture largely lost, the Exeter Book is priceless. But some of its contents are very hard to understand. </p>
<p>This includes Wulf and Eadwacer. The poem’s <a href="https://archive.org/details/codexexoniensis00londgoog/page/527/mode/2up">first editor said</a> in 1842: “Of this I can make no sense.” Over 100 studies later, <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/0895769X.2020.1833702">not much has changed</a>.</p>
<p><a href="https://www.academia.edu/4971999/Wulf_and_Eadwacer_Anglo_Saxon_poem_#:%7E:text=Wulf%20and%20Eadwacer%20Original%20text%2C%20translation%20by%20Edward,on%20o%C3%BEerre.%20F%C3%A6st%20is%20%C3%BE%C3%A6t%20eglond%2C%20fenne%20biworpen.">The poem</a> seems to be spoken by a woman, lamenting her relation to two men, Wulf and Eadwacer, in some unknown watery landscape with islands. She also mentions a “whelp”, often supposed to be her child by one or other of them, or neither. If you think that sounds clear enough, every point could be – and has been – disputed by scholars.</p>
<p>It is also usually included among the <a href="https://archive.org/details/oldenglishelegie00kenn">Old English elegies</a>, a handful of untitled poems also in the Exeter Book, which speak of the sorrow of unidentified men and women undergoing separation, persecution, hardship, exile and imprisonment. Sadly, nobody agrees on what or who they are about either.</p>
<p>But at least Wulf and Eadwacer has names. And in a recent paper in <a href="https://www.degruyter.com/document/doi/10.1515/ang-2022-0056/html">Anglia</a>, I argue that these enable us to crack the poem’s code.</p>
<h2>The road to revelation</h2>
<p>Over 100 years ago, the medievalists <a href="https://www.oxforddnb.com/display/10.1093/ref:odnb/9780198614128.001.0001/odnb-9780198614128-e-32030;jsessionid=2BE71F2AFD9D38BF6D5432077974BDB1">Henry Bradley</a> and <a href="https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Times/1930/Obituary/Israel_Gollancz">Israel Gollancz</a> suggested that the name Eadwacer was the Anglo-Saxon version of <a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Odoacer">Odoacer</a>, a Germanic general in the Roman army who deposed the last western Roman emperor in 476 and made himself king of Italy.</p>
<figure class="align-right zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="An Old English drawing of a joust on horses." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=810&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=810&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=810&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1018&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1018&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510140/original/file-20230214-16-s19qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1018&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">An early illustration of Theoderic killing Odoacer in a joust. From the Chronica Theodericiana (1181).</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Theoderich_odoaker_bav_cpl_927.jpg">Chronica Theodericiana</a></span>
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<p>Gollancz also suggested that Wulf was Odoacer’s enemy, <a href="https://www.worldhistory.org/Theodoric_the_Great">Theoderic the Ostrogoth</a>. As there seemed to be no literary parallels, his theory was, and remains, ignored.</p>
<p>Maybe so, I thought, but what if we look at the historical record? No one had done this before. It proved a revelation.</p>
<p>I read chronicles in Latin and Greek which described the war between Odoacer and Theoderic, culminating in Theoderic’s siege of Odoacer’s northern Italian capital, <a href="https://www.britannica.com/place/Ravenna-Italy">Ravenna</a>. </p>
<p>This ended with an agreement that the men would live and rule together in the city. But after only a few days Theoderic murdered Odoacer (<a href="https://www.britannica.com/biography/Procopius-Byzantine-historian">at a feast, according to one historian)</a> and then all his family and followers.</p>
<p>I found it remarkable that no one had mentioned the resemblance of the poem’s landscape to the topography of Ravenna, a fortress city surrounded by a lagoon dotted with islands. More significantly, this siege was the subject of medieval German poetry about Theoderic, in which he was known as <a href="https://www.oxfordreference.com/display/10.1093/oi/authority.20110803095717595;jsessionid=80382FB68B14E5FFDBE286F8773C2F23">Dietrich</a>, which was well known to students of German literature.</p>
<p>In <a href="https://www.dmgh.de/mgh_ss_rer_germ_72/index.htm#page/410/mode/1up">one German text</a>, Dietrich had been exiled by his villainous cousin Odoacer and after 30 years returned to Ravenna to seek his revenge.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Wolf drawing from an old English manuscript." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510136/original/file-20230214-20-mbjahe.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510136/original/file-20230214-20-mbjahe.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=351&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510136/original/file-20230214-20-mbjahe.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=351&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510136/original/file-20230214-20-mbjahe.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=351&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510136/original/file-20230214-20-mbjahe.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=441&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510136/original/file-20230214-20-mbjahe.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=441&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510136/original/file-20230214-20-mbjahe.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=441&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Wolf’ was likely to be an assumed name peculiarly suited to a clandestine, predatory lover.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/ILLUMIN.ASP?Size=mid&IllID=61016">© British Library Board</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
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<p>The language of Wulf and Eadwacer’s opening lines with their vague hints at conflict and threat had always been found bafflingly obscure. But now it seemed clear that they described the end of the siege. </p>
<p>Eadwacer (who was Odoacer), king of a starving city, entices Wulf (Theoderic), encamped in the lagoon, with what the female speaker sees as treacherous intent.</p>
<p>She uses the rare Old English verb <em>aþecgan</em> to describe the reception awaiting Wulf. Puzzlingly, this meant either “to welcome” or “to eat”. But now we could see that the deft poet had both meanings in mind (Ravenna was starving, and remember that historian’s feast?).</p>
<p>I also showed that “Wulf” was likely to be an assumed name suited to an outlaw – a “wolf’s head” in Old English – and to a clandestine, predatory lover in other <a href="https://www.medieval.eu/wulf-eadwacer-new-research-shed-light-riddle/">comparable texts with wolf motifs</a>.</p>
<h2>Unravelling the mystery of Eadwacer’s starving wife</h2>
<p>But the penny did not really drop until I came across a source that nobody else had linked to the poem: a seventh century Greek chronicle by <a href="https://www.studylight.org/encyclopedias/eng/tce/j/john-of-antioch.html">John of Antioch</a>.</p>
<p>In <a href="https://archive.org/details/fragmentahistor00jeagoog/page/n110/mode/2up?view=theater">John’s account</a>, Odoacer has a son called Okla, who was given as a hostage to Theoderic and later killed by him. Here was the “miserable whelp”.</p>
<p>Not only that, but John (uniquely) provided Odoacer with a wife. Named Sunigilda, she had been imprisoned and – this was the most startling correspondence with the poem – starved to death by Theoderic.</p>
<p>This was the last piece of the jigsaw. It explained for the first time that the speaker in Wulf and Eadwacer must be Eadwacer’s wife. She was sequestered on an island, evidently by her husband. And she cried out to him that it was her longing for Wulf (her lover) that was making her ill, not <em>meteliste</em>, “desire for food”. </p>
<p>In John’s history, it was Theoderic who had been her captor. But in the literary tradition which turned Theoderic into the hero Wulf, her tormentor was now her husband Eadwacer.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A woman floats in a stream on the inside of a log. A nude man with a crown follows her in the water. Medieval illustration." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=498&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=626&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=626&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/510153/original/file-20230214-14-65zzt8.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=626&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The poem seems to be set in some unknown watery landscape with islands.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.bl.uk/catalogues/illuminatedmanuscripts/ILLUMIN.ASP?Size=mid&IllID=60539">© British Library Board</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/">CC BY</a></span>
</figcaption>
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<p>This, I argue, is an interpretation which provides the first complete account of the names, characters and scenario of the poem, the sole remaining example from Anglo-Saxon England of poetry about the heroic Theoderic, a subject which was previously thought to have survived only in literature from the continent.</p>
<p>The poem’s language and imagery are no longer obscure, but full of skilful wordplay and layers of meaning. Wulf and Eadwacer is an intense exploration of divided loyalties, unsatisfied longing and transgressive hatred at a turning point in the history of the Goths and Europe.</p>
<p><a href="https://www.jstor.org/stable/1343640">Feminist critics</a> had highlighted the importance of the speaker of the poem being a woman. They were right to do so. </p>
<p>Here, possibly four centuries before women are given a significant voice in heroic poetry in Germany and Scandinavia, a queen speaks out in an English version of a Gothic story. And she can be given a name too. The Anglo-Saxon version of Sunigilda was Sonegild.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/199928/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ian Shiels does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Here, possibly four centuries before women are given a significant voice in heroic poetry in Germany and Scandinavia, a queen speaks out in an English version of a Gothic story.
Ian Shiels, Postgraduate Researcher, Institute for Medieval Studies, University of Leeds
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/192142
2022-11-03T15:46:20Z
2022-11-03T15:46:20Z
Updown girl: DNA research shows ancient Britain was more diverse than we imagined
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493020/original/file-20221102-22-8054xb.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=29%2C36%2C4875%2C3220&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">People took long voyages to start a new life in Britain in early medieval times</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/portrait-blonde-girl-scandinavian-suit-78851410">Dm_Cherry/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>When you imagine life for ordinary people in ancient Britain, you’d be forgiven for picturing quaint villages where everyone looked and spoke the same way. But a recent study could change the way historians think about early medieval communities. </p>
<p>Most of <a href="http://www.oum.ox.ac.uk/settlers/">what we know</a> about English history after the fall of the Roman Empire is <a href="https://www.historyextra.com/period/roman/you-can-think-of-this-era-as-a-black-hole-into-which-our-history-tumbles-max-adams-interview/">limited</a> to archaeological finds. There are only two contemporary accounts of this post Roman period. <a href="https://biography.wales/article/s-GILD-AS0-0495">Gildas</a> (sixth century) and <a href="https://www.bl.uk/people/bede">Bede</a> (eighth century) were both monks who give narrow descriptions of invasion by people from the continent and neither provide an objective account.</p>
<p>My team’s study, published in <a href="https://doi.org/10.1038/s41586-022-05247-2">Nature</a>, changes that. We analysed DNA from the remains of 460 people from sites across northern Europe and found evidence of mass migration from Europe to England and movement of people from as far away as West Africa. Our study combined information from artefacts and human remains. </p>
<p>That meant we could dig deeper into the data to explore the human details of migration. </p>
<h2>Journey into England’s past</h2>
<p>This paper found that about 76% of the genetic ancestry in the early medieval English population we studied originated from what is today northern Germany and southern Scandinavia – continental northern European (CNE). This number is an average taken from 278 ancient skeletons sampled from the south and east coasts of England. It is strong evidence for mass migration into the British Isles after the end of Roman administration. </p>
<p>One of the most surprising discoveries was the skeleton of a young girl who died at about ten or 11 years of age, found in Updown near Eastry in Kent. She was buried in typical early <a href="https://ora.ox.ac.uk/catalog/uuid:88409417-0291-408a-8a8f-f6f3187c6626/download_file?file_format=application%2Fpdf&safe_filename=Helena%2BHamerow%2C%2BFurnished%2Bfemale%2Bburial%2Bin%2Bseventh-century%2BEngland%2B-%2BGender%2Band%2Bauthority%2Bin%2Bthe%2BConversion%2BPeriod.pdf">seventh-century style</a> with a finely made pot, knife, spoon and bone comb. Her DNA, however, tells a more complex story. As well as 67% CNE ancestry, she also had 33% <a href="https://the-past.com/magazines/current-archaeology-392/">West African</a> ancestry. Her African ancestor was most closely related to the modern day Esan and Yoruba population in southern Nigeria.</p>
<p>Evidence of far-reaching commercial connections with Kent at this time are known. The garnets in many brooches found in this this region came from Afghanistan for example. And the movement of the Updown girl’s ancestors was likely linked to these ancient trading routes. </p>
<h2>Keeping it in the family</h2>
<p>Two women buried close by were sisters and had predominantly CNE ancestry. They were related to Updown girl – perhaps her aunts. The fact that all three were buried in a similar way, with brooches, buckles and <a href="https://student-journals.ucl.ac.uk/pia/article/id/506/">belt hangers</a>, suggests the people who buried them chose to highlight similarities between Updown girl and her older female relatives when they dressed them and located the burials close together. They treated her as kin, as a girl from their village, because that is what she was. </p>
<p>The aunts also shared a close kinship with a young man buried with artefacts that implied some social status, including a spearhead and buckle. The graves of these four people were all close together. They were buried in a prominent position marked by small <a href="https://www.manchesteropenhive.com/view/9781526153845/9781526153845.xml">barrow mounds</a> (ancient burial places covered with a large mound of earth and stones). The visibility of this spot, combined with their dress and DNA marks these people as part of an important local family. </p>
<p>The site studied in most detail – Buckland, near Dover in Kent – had kinship groups that spanned at least four generations.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=219&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=219&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=219&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=276&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=276&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/493285/original/file-20221103-23-uhu7po.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=276&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Buckland family tree. On the left-hand side is the plan of the cemetery and the location of each grave, illustrated by generation. On the right is the family tree with artifacts added.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Duncan Sayer and Joscha Gretzinger</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>One family group with CNE ancestry is remarkable because of how quickly they integrated with western British and Irish (WBI) people. Within a few generations, traditions had merged between people born far away from each other. A 100% WBI woman had two daughters with a 100% CNE man. WBI ancestry entered this family again a generation later, in near 50/50 mixed-ancestry grandchildren. Objects including similar brooches and weapons were found in graves on both sides of this family, indicating shared values between people of different ancestries. </p>
<p>This family was buried in graves close together for three generations. That is until a woman from the third generation was buried in a different cluster of graves, to the north of the family group. One of her children, a boy, died at about eight to ten years of age. He was buried in the cluster of graves that included his maternal grandparents and their close family and she laid her youngest child to rest in a grave surrounded by her family. But when the mother died, her adult children chose a spot close to their father for her grave. They considered her part of the paternal side of the family. </p>
<p>Another woman from Buckland had a unique <a href="https://www.genome.gov/genetics-glossary/haplotype#:%7E:text=A%20haplotype%20refers%20to%20a,between%20these%20variants%20are%20rare.">haplotype</a>, a set of DNA variants that tend to be inherited together. Both males and females inherit their haplogroup from their mothers. So her DNA suggests she had no maternal family in the community she was buried with. </p>
<figure class="align-left ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/492300/original/file-20221028-60762-5tqk25.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=237&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/492300/original/file-20221028-60762-5tqk25.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=844&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492300/original/file-20221028-60762-5tqk25.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=844&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492300/original/file-20221028-60762-5tqk25.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=844&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492300/original/file-20221028-60762-5tqk25.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=1060&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492300/original/file-20221028-60762-5tqk25.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=1060&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/492300/original/file-20221028-60762-5tqk25.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=1060&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The gold bracteate from grave 250 at Dover Buckland.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Duncan Sayer</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The <a href="https://doi.org/10.31219/osf.io/jzfv6">chemical isotopes</a>, from her teeth and bones indicate she was not born in Kent but moved there when she was 15-25 years old. An ornate gold pendant, called a <a href="https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/473485">bracteate</a>, which may have been of Scandinavian origin, was found in her grave.</p>
<p>This suggests she left home from Scandinavia in her youth, and her mother’s family did not travel with her. She very likely had an exogamous marriage (marriage outside of your social group). </p>
<p>What is striking is the physical distance that this partnership bridged. This woman travelled 700 miles, including a voyage across the North Sea, to start her family.</p>
<h2>Rethinking history</h2>
<p>These people were migrants and the children of migrants who travelled in the fifth, sixth and seventh centuries. Their stories are of community and intermarriage. The genetic data points to profound mobility within a time of mass migration and the archaeological details help to complete the <a href="https://doi.org/10.7765/9781526153845">family histories</a>. Migration did not happen at the same time, nor did it all come from the same place. Early Anglo-Saxon culture was a mixing pot of ideas, intermarriage and movement. This genetic coalescing and cultural diversity created something new in the south and east of England after the Roman empire ended.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/192142/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Duncan Sayer does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
People didn’t live in insulated communities when the Roman empire fell. Villagers buried people who migrated from far away as one of their own.
Duncan Sayer, Professor in Archaeology, University of Central Lancashire
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/93805
2018-03-23T08:59:31Z
2018-03-23T08:59:31Z
Glastonbury: archaeology is revealing new truths about the origins of British Christianity
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211612/original/file-20180322-54875-k4961p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=6%2C3%2C1141%2C714&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Centre for the Study for Christianity and Culture, University of York.</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>New archaeological research on Glastonbury Abbey pushes back the date for the earliest settlement of the site by 200 years – and reopens debate on Glastonbury’s origin myths.</p>
<p>Many Christians believe that Glastonbury is the <a href="http://www.reading.ac.uk/archaeology/research/projects/arch-rg-glastonbury.aspx">site of the earliest church in Britain</a>, allegedly founded in the first or second century by <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/thepassion/articles/joseph_of_arimathea.shtml">Joseph of Arimathea</a>. According to the Gospels, Joseph was the man who donated his own tomb for the body of Christ following the crucifixion. </p>
<p>By the 14th century, it was popularly believed that Glastonbury Abbey had been founded by the biblical figure of Joseph. The legend emerged that Joseph had travelled to Britain with the Grail, the vessel used to collect Christ’s blood. For 800 years, Glastonbury has been associated with the romance of King Arthur, the Holy Grail and Joseph of Arimathea. Later stories connected Glastonbury directly to the life of Christ.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211596/original/file-20180322-54887-qjjr5k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211596/original/file-20180322-54887-qjjr5k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=439&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211596/original/file-20180322-54887-qjjr5k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=439&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211596/original/file-20180322-54887-qjjr5k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=439&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211596/original/file-20180322-54887-qjjr5k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=552&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211596/original/file-20180322-54887-qjjr5k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=552&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211596/original/file-20180322-54887-qjjr5k.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=552&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Joseph of Arimathea Preaching to the Inhabitants of Britain.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:William_Blake_Joseph_of_Arimathea_preaching_to_the_inhabitants_of_Britain.jpg">William Blake (via British Museum)</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In the 19th century, a popular West Country folk tale claimed that Christ had visited Britain with his great uncle, Joseph of Arimathea, in pursuit of the tin trade. The myth that Jesus visited Glastonbury remains significant for many English Christians today and is immortalised in the country’s unofficial anthem, Sir Hubert Parry’s hymn, Jerusalem, based on <a href="https://interestingliterature.com/2017/04/26/a-short-analysis-of-william-blakes-jerusalem/">William Blake’s 1804 poem</a>.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>And did those feet in ancient time<br>
Walk upon England’s mountains green:<br>
And was the holy Lamb of God,<br>
On England’s pleasant pastures seen!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Historical accounts describe an “ancient” church on the site in the tenth century. It was still standing in the 12th century, described by the historian <a href="https://www.encyclopedia.com/people/history/historians-british-biographies/william-malmesbury">William of Malmesbury</a> as “the oldest of all those that I know of in England”. But this revered and ancient church was destroyed by a <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-somerset-34908894">devastating fire in 1184</a>, along with much of Glastonbury Abbey.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211608/original/file-20180322-54875-1xnx0pu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211608/original/file-20180322-54875-1xnx0pu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=347&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211608/original/file-20180322-54875-1xnx0pu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=347&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211608/original/file-20180322-54875-1xnx0pu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=347&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211608/original/file-20180322-54875-1xnx0pu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=436&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211608/original/file-20180322-54875-1xnx0pu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=436&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211608/original/file-20180322-54875-1xnx0pu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=436&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Reconstruction of the old church.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Centre for the Study of Christianity, Culture University of York</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The old church was the first structure to be rebuilt – a new chapel was erected on the site of the old church that had been destroyed by fire. The Lady Chapel that was consecrated in 1186 commemorates the old church and still stands today at Glastonbury Abbey. Any archaeological evidence for an early church would have been destroyed by the later construction of the crypt beneath the Lady Chapel.</p>
<h2>Archaeological evidence</h2>
<p>So how can archaeology shed light on the question of Glastonbury’s origins? Research <a href="https://research.reading.ac.uk/glastonburyabbeyarchaeology/">led by the University of Reading</a> has reassessed the full archive of excavations that took place at Glastonbury Abbey throughout the 20th century.</p>
<p>The excavation records confirm that the site of Glastonbury Abbey was occupied before the foundation of the Anglo-Saxon monastery around AD 700. Near the site of the medieval Lady Chapel, there were traces of a timber hall within the bounds of the early monastic cemetery. A roughly trodden floor contained fragments of late Roman amphorae imported from the eastern Mediterranean, dating back to about 450–550AD. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=600&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211605/original/file-20180322-54887-n5hnut.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=754&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Plan of the post Roman timber structure and associated late Roman amphorae.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Liz Gardner</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>A radiocarbon date pinpoints the demolition of the timber building to the eighth or ninth century. This suggests that the building was in use for a long period – extending from the pre-Saxon phase of the site at around 500AD and into the period of the Saxon monastery – potentially up to 300 years.</p>
<p>This new archaeological evidence does not prove the presence of an early church – or support a connection with Joseph of Arimathea. But it does confirm that the Anglo-Saxon monastery was preceded by a high status settlement dating back to the fifth or sixth century – one with elite trading connections to the eastern Mediterranean. It may also suggest that the Saxon monastery carefully “curated” the timber building – in other words, preserved it for future generations, perhaps because it held special religious or ancestral significance for the monks.</p>
<h2>Spiritual meanings</h2>
<p>Today, Glastonbury appeals to a wide range of spiritual seekers, many of whom are drawn by the abbey’s associations with Celtic Christianity. Joseph of Arimathea is important in making the connection to Glastonbury’s Celtic origins – the belief that Joseph founded a church of British Christianity that predated the Roman mission to England (from 597AD).</p>
<p>These archaeological findings are relevant to Glastonbury’s spiritual seekers because they push the origins of the site back to a period before the Anglo-Saxon abbey – into the time of the legendary King Arthur. In a personal letter to the director of Glastonbury Abbey, Geoffrey Ashe – the Arthurian expert and doyen of Glastonbury’s alternative community – commented on the significance of these archaeological findings. </p>
<blockquote>
<p>To me, the most gratifying thing is the proof – at last – that the original community was British and existed before the Saxons’ arrival, as I always maintained. The foundation has now been moved back 200 years to the period where it belongs. Brilliant!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The archaeological research provides extensive new insight into Glastonbury Abbey in Anglo-Saxon and medieval times – including digital reconstructions of the Anglo-Saxon churches and the interior of the medieval Lady Chapel. For the first time, Glastonbury’s legendary traditions can be assessed alongside its archaeological evidence. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211607/original/file-20180322-54872-1lx9e6c.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/211607/original/file-20180322-54872-1lx9e6c.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211607/original/file-20180322-54872-1lx9e6c.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211607/original/file-20180322-54872-1lx9e6c.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211607/original/file-20180322-54872-1lx9e6c.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211607/original/file-20180322-54872-1lx9e6c.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/211607/original/file-20180322-54872-1lx9e6c.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Anglo Saxon Church in its modern setting 1100AD.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">The Centre for the Study of Christianity & Culture, University of York</span>, <span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Archaeology will not prove or disprove Glastonbury’s legendary associations with King Arthur or Joseph of Arimathea. But archaeology helps to explain what these myths meant to medieval people, how the story of Glastonbury has changed over time, and why it remains important to spiritual beliefs today.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/93805/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Roberta Gilchrist receives funding from the Arts and Humanities Research Council. </span></em></p>
New archaeological research on Glastonbury Abbey pushes back the date for the earliest settlement of the site by 200 years – and reopens debate on Glastonbury’s origin myths.
Roberta Gilchrist, Professor of Archaeology, University of Reading
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/89107
2017-12-13T17:44:10Z
2017-12-13T17:44:10Z
Anthill 20: Myths
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/199017/original/file-20171213-27568-zw1sv3.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">via shutterstock.com</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>How do we know that ideas we hold true aren’t just myths that will be proved untrue in the future? Or maybe you have a favourite fact or story that’s already been debunked but no one has told you yet. </p>
<p>In this episode of <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/podcasts/the-anthill">The Anthill podcast</a>, all about myths, we’ve got three stories of researchers pouring cold water over ideas that some people still believe. </p>
<p>First, we hear from Cat Jarman, a bio-archaeologist at the University of Bristol who studies old bones on Easter Island in Polynesia. The native Rapanui people are often accused of destroying their own society by chopping down all the island’s trees to erect their famous stone statues. But as Jarman explains, this “ecocide” theory <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-truth-about-easter-island-a-sustainable-society-has-been-falsely-blamed-for-its-own-demise-85563">is a myth</a>.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/199018/original/file-20171213-27562-10chdr4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/199018/original/file-20171213-27562-10chdr4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=287&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/199018/original/file-20171213-27562-10chdr4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=287&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/199018/original/file-20171213-27562-10chdr4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=287&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/199018/original/file-20171213-27562-10chdr4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=361&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/199018/original/file-20171213-27562-10chdr4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=361&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/199018/original/file-20171213-27562-10chdr4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=361&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Statues, known as moai, on Easter Island.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/pete_waterman/6283591617/sizes/l">via trackpete/flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/">CC BY-NC</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>From myths about population decline, we turn to myths about race. Ornette Clennon, who co-leads Manchester Metropolitan University’s critical race and ethnicity research group, explains the history of polygenism – the pseudoscience of categorising humans into different racial categories or species. And Duncan Sayer, an archaeologist at the University of Central Lancashire, debunks myths about the Anglo Saxons that some present-day alt-right movements still hold true. </p>
<p>Our final story is about urban myths – those spine-tingling horror stories which always seem to happen to a friend of a friend. Karl Bell, a historian at the University of Portsmouth, recounts the origins of one such urban legend that terrified Victorian Londoners: spring-heeled jack. </p>
<p>You can <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/podcasts/the-anthill">subscribe to The Anthill</a> on iTunes or wherever you get your podcasts from. And while you’re there check out The Conversation’s new podcast, <a href="https://theconversation.com/uk/podcasts/in-depth-out-loud">In Depth Out Loud</a>, where we narrate in depth articles by experts in audio form. </p>
<hr>
<p><em>The Anthill theme music is by <a href="https://www.melodyloops.com/search/How+to+Steal+a+Million+Dollars/">Alex Grey for Melody Loops</a>. In the segment on Easter Island, the clip of Jared Diamond was <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bc4bXIg8JDk">from UCTV</a> and the Easter Island music came via <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TfDtbdwgcHM">YouTube and the ChileTravelChannel</a>. In the segment on urban legends, the music came from <a href="https://soundcloud.com/lionel-schmitt/feel-the-knife">Lionel Schmitt via Soundcloud</a>.</em></p>
<p><em>Click here to listen to more episodes of The Anthill, on themes including <a href="https://theconversation.com/anthill-7-on-belief-69448">Belief</a>, <a href="https://theconversation.com/anthill-10-the-future-73404">The Future</a> and <a href="https://theconversation.com/anthill-19-pain-87538">Pain</a>.</em></p>
<p><em>A big thanks to City University London’s Department of Journalism for letting us use their studios to record.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/89107/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
We're pouring cold water on old ideas in this episode: from why the population of Easter Island really declined and what makes a good urban legend.
Will de Freitas, Environment + Energy Editor, UK edition
Emily Lindsay Brown, Editor for Cities and Young People, UK edition
Annabel Bligh, Business & Economy Editor and Podcast Producer, The Conversation UK
Gemma Ware, Head of Audio
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/69521
2016-11-30T19:11:39Z
2016-11-30T19:11:39Z
Ancient Syrian bitumen discovered in Anglo-Saxon boat at Sutton Hoo
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/148078/original/image-20161130-16998-5oiuva.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption"></span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Tombs_by_type#/media/File:Sutton_Hoo_ship-burial_model.jpg">Wikimedia Commons/Eebahgum</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Sutton Hoo in East Anglia is one of the most important archaeological sites in England. The weapons, clothing and other objects buried in the Anglo-Saxon cemeteries show that trade networks in the 6th and 7th century reached as far away as Europe and Asia. Now new research conducted at the British Museum and University of Aberdeen reveals that trading even resulted in a solid form of oil known as bitumen making it all the way to England from what is now Syria.</p>
<p>The graves at Sutton Hoo vary in size but one of them contains the “phantom” of a boat – the outline remains of a vessel probably used to ceremonially bury a warrior and many of his worldly goods, <a href="http://www.britishmuseum.org/visiting/galleries/europe/room_41_europe_ad_300-1100.aspx">including his famous helmet</a>. Alongside the body were found several small, centimetre-sized lumps of tar.</p>
<p>After spending a nation’s lifetime in British soil, these lumps have spent a human lifetime in the British Museum, where they have been safely curated for 70 years. Our research team, led by the museum’s Rebecca Stacey along with Pauline Burger, retrieved the lumps of tar from the archives and <a href="http://journals.plos.org/plosone/article?id=info%3Adoi/10.1371/journal.pone.0166276">began analysing them</a>.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/148079/original/image-20161130-17000-18z6hih.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/148079/original/image-20161130-17000-18z6hih.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148079/original/image-20161130-17000-18z6hih.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148079/original/image-20161130-17000-18z6hih.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148079/original/image-20161130-17000-18z6hih.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148079/original/image-20161130-17000-18z6hih.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148079/original/image-20161130-17000-18z6hih.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Sutton Hoo helmet.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/e-image/15433744049/in/photolist-pvPYpk-fAF7rx-9vkWB9-fAFc1a-fAFanv-nbG57R-mPKmEy-gRqXwf-yRbkH-6MSQY5-7AqV8i-sFdwzf-7fDrMs-aVxsfz-ogXGG2-fAFdBz-5PzAxp-5bwjiM-fAF8he-fAVmC7-imuYks-fAF9ec-fAF9L8-fAVsnG-NgBLC-fAVnUy-fAVuLY-fAVqWf-fAF7AX-fAVpXq-fAF4Nn-fAVuhN-fAVpib-fAVm8s-fAFahX-fAFdLr-fAVn3b-fAVuVN-fAF9yn-fAF7Ka-fAVnb5-8QusF8-fAVrw5-fAF6pP-fAF8Fc-fAF51z-fAF5Vn-fAFacZ-fAF6TT-fAF8uP">Image Less Ordinary/Flickr</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/">CC BY-NC-ND</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The museum had catalogued the lumps as pine tar, made by heating wood that contained resin. Pine tar is sticky, water-repellent and easy to make and was probably used in the 6th and 7th centuries to waterproof things. Dr Stacey is an expert in this kind of pine tar but her analyses showed the Sutton Hoo tar was actually oil, the kind that comes from rocks. The question was “which rocks?”.</p>
<p>To answer that question, we had to assess the lumps’ chemical fossil content. My colleague John Parnell has a comprehensive knowledge of places in Britain where oil can be found at the surface due to natural seepage and exposure. But surprisingly, he was unable to match the Sutton Hoo tar to any seeps or deposits in Britain. This suggested it originated from outside of the UK. </p>
<p>Bitumen from the Middle East was used in the ancient world for many things including embalming, medicine and of course water-proofing. This usage left an archaeological record of bitumen that we could examine to look for a match. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/148080/original/image-20161130-17016-u3nnt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/148080/original/image-20161130-17016-u3nnt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148080/original/image-20161130-17016-u3nnt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148080/original/image-20161130-17016-u3nnt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=360&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148080/original/image-20161130-17016-u3nnt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=452&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148080/original/image-20161130-17016-u3nnt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=452&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/148080/original/image-20161130-17016-u3nnt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=452&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Sutton Hoo Bitumen samples.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Burger et al (2016)</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Bitumen families are a little different to oil families. They have additional chemical characteristics acquired when oil is converted into bitumen. The kind of bitumen used in the ancient world was formed by <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Microbial_biodegradation">microbes consuming the liquid parts of oil and leaving behind mostly solid residues</a>. The results of this microbial conversion vary depending on the location of the bitumen.</p>
<p>So far, the Sutton Hoo tar has the strongest match to a bitumen deposit in modern-day Syria. While this might seem surprising, many foreign and exotic treasures have been found at Sutton Hoo, and these small pieces of ancient Syrian oil are just one more.</p>
<p>But there may still be another surprise. We know the chemical composition of the lumps, the rough date of their burial and their point of origin. What we don’t know is what they were used for. Many of the other objects from Sutton Hoo have clear uses, functions or symbolism, including the swords, shields, combs and crockery.</p>
<p>But we don’t have this information for the pieces of tar. What function did they have or what symbolism did they carry? Why are there tiny pieces of Syrian tar in an Anglo Saxon grave? Why did somebody put them there? It seems Sutton Hoo is keeping some of its secrets hidden for now. Until they are revealed, I am waiting to be surprised.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/69521/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Stephen A. Bowden does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Mysterious lumps found at the bottom of a 7th-century burial ship have turned out to be bitumen from the Middle East. But how did they get there?
Stephen A. Bowden, Lecturer in Organic Geochemistry, University of Aberdeen
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/66965
2016-10-13T15:37:52Z
2016-10-13T15:37:52Z
Five f***ing fascinating facts about swearing
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/141603/original/image-20161013-31319-y2lvrr.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">&$$@&&&!!!!</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="http://www.shutterstock.com/pic-150536339/stock-photo-insubordinate-man-with-zipped-mouth.html?src=hqyA4i7lmV_GD4aQQTZL-A-1-0">Nomad_Soul</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Where once the use of profanities would appal right-thinking members of society, nowadays words like fuck, shit and bollocks are practically mother’s milk to many of us. A <a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/09/29/viewers-happy-with-more-swearing-on-tv-says-ofcom-but-which-offe/">recent study</a> in the UK found that people are more comfortable with swearing on television than they used to be, for example. And research in the US <a href="http://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2016-10-10/eff-millennials-this-generation-is-most-likely-to-swear-at-work">indicates that</a> people are increasingly likely to use bad language at work. </p>
<p>So in honour of our wonderfully creative and filthy lexicon, here are some fascinating facts about swearing – and, yes, this article contains lots of explicit references.</p>
<h2>1) Some swearers are smarter than others</h2>
<p>A <a href="http://www.mirror.co.uk/news/world-news/people-who-swear-most-cleverer-7011464">popular “fact”</a> doing the rounds is that people who swear are more intelligent and have larger vocabularies. Sadly, this is not quite accurate. It misreads <a href="https://digest.bps.org.uk/2015/12/11/being-fluent-at-swearing-is-a-sign-of-healthy-verbal-ability/">a study</a> that demonstrated that people who performed well on tests of verbal fluency – such as “name as many words as you can starting with the letter ‘s’” – also tended to do well when asked how many swear words they could name. </p>
<p>The conclusion was that although many a teacher and parent have argued that swearing is indicative of a lesser vocabulary, the ability to be creative with your swearing is actually another measure of verbal fluency. Crucially, however, it’s not how much you swear but how creatively you swear that counts. </p>
<p>So if you are a fucking person who fucking says the fucking word fuck between every fucking word, your vocabulary is probably quite limited because you’re relying on the same word over and over. If you are the type of person who variably refers to someone they don’t like as a cock-munch or a piss-ass twat-wank, your general verbal fluency is probably good even though you are really quite rude. </p>
<h2>2) Who you swear at counts</h2>
<p>Swearing <a href="https://www.degruyter.com/view/j/jplr.2008.4.issue-2/jplr.2008.013/jplr.2008.013.xml">is also considered</a> more offensive the wider the gap in status between speaker and listener. If an entry-level employee was to swear at their chief executive, or if Michael Gove was to swear at Theresa May, that would be viewed as worse than if two students swore at each other. </p>
<p>This can also be used to positive effect, however, promoting social cohesion by signalling that the swearer does not believe the difference in status to be that large. My line manager has yet to address me as “Dr fucking Nordmann” but if it ever happens I’ve decided to take it as a sign that I’m on the right track.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=443&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=443&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=443&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=557&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=557&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/141607/original/image-20161013-31310-12e05dy.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=557&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">‘Here’s your effing banana’.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/57466809@N07/5607861762/in/photolist-9xxKVL-cbnpq-bcFHHZ-78fxfA-8wtzMc-q6rgTg-aKPuND-9Mfkip-5AFLsw-8fxsPP-6VgZfZ-4z9NVY-4z5xaM-4z9LTQ-nE45oj-4w4Q2z-6pa2cY-4fTfrX-9f7Yx8-6mC6Px-4z5wrn-8fAHFm-6kAjMZ-pHZ4Sd-7PUfhv-tnHLj-pvqoxK-6eyjrb-bzm9Sh-56dRWh-rRvyMH-4HTtxg-4xbCBU-5ZXb9S-5oVTJ-4z9Kkf-5aiHUy-8fxsPt-Tk4Nm-tVqkz-7LRQgD-8fAHDA-aN95y-H8sxJJ-5c3D7a-nEwgyE-ca35EQ-cWhwUw-pUgoLC-dKnyJS">Lucy</a>, <a class="license" href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/">CC BY-SA</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>3) Swear words sound sweary</h2>
<p>It is <a href="http://www.jstor.org/stable/41449227">sometimes said</a> that “proper” languages are arbitrary, meaning there should be no relationship between the sound of the words and their meanings. <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/25092667">Yet</a> the sounds we use turn out to be a lot less arbitrary than we used to think. Lots of words in English that refer to “light” start with “gl”, such as “glitter”, “glimmer” and “gloss”. This is known as sound symbolism. </p>
<p>Not only do these patterns exist but we’re very good at picking up on them even if we’re not aware of it – children <a href="http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0010027708001807">are faster</a> to learn new words if they’re symbolic and <a href="https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/25092667">tend to learn</a> them at a younger age. </p>
<p>The bad news for parents trying to keep their kids’ mouths clean is that swear words exhibit sound symbolism. They tend to have harsh aggressive sounds to match their harsh aggressive meanings. This means we don’t actually have to know the meaning of a word to know it’s “bad”. </p>
<p>Sound symbolism also provides one explanation for why some swear words don’t survive. In <a href="http://sites.fas.harvard.edu/%7Echaucer/language.htm">Chaucerian English</a>, “swyve” was a crass term meaning “to copulate with”. <a href="http://www.librarius.com/canttran/reevtale/reevtale314-344.htm">To quote</a> The Canterbury Tales, for instance, “If that I may, yon wenche wil I swyve”. One reason why “swyve” lost its place in our dirty lexicon is likely to be that “give it a good swyve” sounds like something Mary Berry would ask you to do on the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b013pqnm">Great British Bake Off</a>. </p>
<h2>4) Men’s mouths are pottier</h2>
<p>Women <a href="http://www.annualreviews.org/doi/abs/10.1146/annurev.psych.54.101601.145041?journalCode=psych">swear less</a> than men and when they do swear they use milder swear words. Since many swear words refer to sex and sexuality, it is <a href="http://stevenpinker.com/publications/stuff-thought">suggested that</a> women use these words less than men because if they use words that refer to sex casually, it implies they think the act of sex is a casual matter. </p>
<p>If so, the asymmetry of expectation for men and women for the act of having sex has spread to our use of language and the vocabulary we have available. The clearest example is that there is no male equivalent for the word “slut”.</p>
<h2>5) Princes swear less than paupers … sort of</h2>
<p>Social class is predictive of the frequency of swearing. An <a href="https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Swearing_in_English.html?id=iKbvbEwNjugC&redir_esc=y">investigation</a> of the <a href="http://www.natcorp.ox.ac.uk">British National Corpus</a>, a massive collection of written and spoken English from a wide range of sources, found that lower working class speakers swore significantly more than speakers from higher social classes. </p>
<p>A <a href="https://www.diva-portal.org/smash/get/diva2:224208/FULLTEXT01.pdf">later study</a> added nuance to this, however. Although “bloody”, “bugger” and “fuck” are used approximately twice as often by those from the lowest social class – the upper middle class, <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/media/2015/aug/10/radio-4-jeremy-hunt-gaff-jim-naughtie-rory-morrison">famously led by BBC radio journalist Jim Naughtie</a>, are the most common users of the profane word for female genitalia that rhymes with Jeremy Hunt –– yes, cunt. Thankfully, they only rarely use it during live radio broadcasts.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/66965/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Emily Nordmann does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
What research tells us about the ripest Anglo Saxon. Parental Advisory: explicit content.
Emily Nordmann, Lecturer in Psychology, University of Aberdeen
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.