Vol. 1, No. 1 Fall 2018

THE SPRINGS GRADUATE HISTORY JOURNAL

Edited by Timothy Vilgiate

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Acknowledgements

LEAD EDITOR Timothy Vilgiate SUPPORTING EDITORS Amy Beth Frederickson Kellen DeAlba Baylee Schopp

PEER REVIEWERS Alexander Archuleta Nick Ota-Wang Andi Walker Michael Bunch Emilee Schindel Elijah Wallace

FACULTY REVIEWERS Brian Duvick Roger Martinez-Dávila Samantha Christiansen Robert Sackett Paul Harvey Christina Jimenez

FACULTY ADVISORS Samantha Christiansen Christina Jimenez Michelle Neely WEB SERVICES Tabatha Farney Susan Vandagriff FRIENDS OF THE JOURNAL Kayla Crosbie Michael Stephen Trent Bailey Stephanie Fields

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Notes from the Editor Timothy Vilgiate Hello, and thank you for reading issue, and to include anyone at UCCS to the first issue of The Springs Graduate consider submitting next year. History Journal. Whether you’re a The three student papers UCCS student, or you have stumbled presented in this issue of the journal across an article our journal online, I represent many hours of diligent work hope that you find the papers in our making thoughtful comments by our journal interesting and useful. From peer reviewers, which the authors when Kellen DeAlba initially proposed followed up with equally dedicated and the creation of this journal to our patient work as they conducted their school’s chapter of Phi Alpha Theta in revisions. All of them look attempt to Fall 2017, we envisioned it as a way to correct or broaden historical narratives start cross-disciplinary and cross- established by previous scholars. regional conversations about historical topics on campus and in the wider The first paper, written by Sydney community. From February of this year Pearson, offers a counternarrative to to the beginning of May, I worked on studies that portray Baroque painter laying the groundwork for the journal Artemisia Gentileschi as, first and with the support of Michelle Neely, foremost, a victim. Instead, Pearson director of the Writing Across the presents Gentileschi as a dynamic Curriculum program at UCCS, our woman of agency. faculty advisors Dr. Christina Jimenez Michael Stephen’s paper focuses and Dr. Samantha Christiansen, as well on how women in 18th Century Britain as Tabatha Farney, and Susan inserted themselves into the public Vandygriff of the Kraemer Family sphere. His research demonstrates how library. their participation in the public sphere At the same time, I worked as an influenced Lord George Macartney’s co-editor with the other on campus embassy to China in 1793, correcting journal, the Undergraduate Research past narratives about the British public Journal, which provided me with sphere that mainly emphasized the invaluable experience with managing participation of men. the peer review and publishing process. Lastly, Donald Unger’s paper on I’d like to thank everyone who Roman mining in Iberia highlights the volunteered to help with the journal, importance of the industry to the including the student and faculty peninsula, something downplayed by reviewers. I’d also like to thank the contemporary writers, in an authors whose work is included in this interdisciplinary history that supplements his interpretation of the

1 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 available primary sources with ice core Navajo land. He describes his process and sediment data. seeking the approval of the IRB and the tribal government, conducting fieldwork I made several attempts over the on the Navajo nation, and the course of the review period to contact implications of his findings from a people who might be interested in historiographical, social, and political writing research reflections, but we perspective. Both of the two edited ultimately did not receive any. In lieu of interviews offer perspectives on both research reflections, I have decided to how to conduct fieldwork in general, and include an editorial piece on the on how to work with the “subjects” of an Memory Box project, which the Tau Chi oral history or ethnohistory in order to Chapter of Phi Alpha Theta worked on advance their interests rather than only last year to gather memories from the interests of the researcher. people around campus. My essay addresses the ideas behind the project, Consolidating these interviews its results, and considerations for into essays proved somewhat anyone who might want to replicate the challenging. I struggled to balance idea at their school. editing the interviews into concise and clear essays without compromising the Kellen DeAlba also sat down with voice of the speaker. Both authors had me to discuss his fieldwork for Dr. the chance to read their pieces before Bernice Forrest’s class on Native publication, and they were also reviewed American history, and a consolidated by members of the faculty in order to form of the transcript is included in the ensure that they were suitable for section on Research Reflections. His publication. reflection raises interesting questions about history, and about how the With all of this said, I hope that Kickapoo Indians in Northern you enjoy reading this issue of The Mexico/Southern Texas try to find a Springs Graduate History Journal. We balance between maintaining a sense of appreciate the time you take to read our refuge and autonomy and engaging with journal, and encourage you to leave the outside world to combat comments on the articles if you would misinformation about their history. like to add your thoughts or start a discussion. On a similar note, I interviewed Donald Unger about his work studying uranium Mining and Reclamation on

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Book Reviews pg. 4: Grass Roots by Nick Johnson (Reviewed by Timothy Vilgiate)

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Nick Johnson. Grass Roots: A History of Cannabis in the American West. Corvallis, OR: Oregon State University Press, 2017. 256 pages. Reviewed by Timothy Vilgiate

Based on author Nick Johnson’s thesis for the Master’s Program at CSU Fort Collins, this book gives much needed scholarly attention to the history of cannabis, in an environmental history that considers the plant as a crop rather than only as a drug. While a number of resources have been produced about this topic in general, a large amount of the works have been written by journalists, as Johnson points out in his introduction, and the politics of prohibition often color the way the history of the drug is approached. Finding a reliable, scholarly source on the history of cannabis that does not overexert itself with weed puns and overly colloquial language can often be difficult. In Grass Roots, Johnson succeeds in putting forward an accessible book, one that is useful for both students and a general reading audience. Much of the historical information in the book—the racist roots of cannabis prohibition in the early 20th Century, the anti- drug crusade of Harry Anslinger in the 1930s, and the failures of the War on Drugs—are well addressed in popular histories of the topic. However, Johnson’s book calls attention specifically to the environmental history of cannabis, highlighting negative impacts of both illegal grows in the “Emerald Triangle,” a region in the mountains North of San Francisco that produces a large portion of the nation’s illicit cannabis, and indoor cultivation in states like Colorado where it has been legalized. Johnson traces the roots of these issues to prohibition, which forced growers to rely on energy intensive indoor grows and unsustainable cultivation practices. In Chapter 1, Johnson examines the history of cannabis use in the Southwest, looking at how the press constructed “cannabis” as a promising medicinal plant, but attached “marijuana” to migrant workers from Mexico. The strongest points in Johnson’s analysis hinge around his use of newspaper articles, owing in part to his background as a journalist. Johnson’s individual case studies tend to be fluid, engaging, and interesting to read. Johnson continues on this theme in Chapter 2, as he looks at the progress towards prohibition under Harry J. Anslinger, beginning with a news story about a plot of cannabis plants that sprung up from a batch of bird seed. This chapter feels somewhat more disorganized than the previous chapter. The opening case study, about a plot of marijuana found in a backyard in California that sprouted up from bird seed, comes from the 1950s, and then quickly jumps back to the late 1930s and 1940s. Johnson means to illustrate the futility of the federal government’s crusade to ban a plant that grew wild across the United States, and to shed light on the enduring confusion about the difference between “cannabis” and “marijuana.” However, the rapid shift from the first case study into the federal hearings on marijuana, peppered with examples of poor drug enforcement, leaves the chapter feeling disjointed. Chapter 3, “The Workers’ Weed”, is one of the stronger chapters of the book. Focusing on the role of cannabis in the daily lives of Hispanic workers in the American

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West, the chapter adds a great deal of depth and clarity to the origin story of cannabis. Most popular origin stories of cannabis prohibition mention that Mexican immigrants brought the drug to the United States, but do not often go beyond mentioning the racial stereotypes that provided the foundation for prohibition. By using specific case studies, informed largely by newspaper reports, Johnson successfully attaches real human experiences and emotions to the narrative. The fourth chapter of Johnson’s book focuses on the role of cannabis in the American counterculture. Readers of other books on cannabis history will note the lack of attention to either the Beat movement in the 1940s and 1950s, or to Romantic-era bohemians like Walter Benjamin. The discussion of the counterculture also makes some overly general claims about the role of nature in American culture prior to the 1950s, emphasizing a divide between an older generation that saw nature as something to be ordered and dominated, and a younger generation that wanted a deeper connection with nature. His analysis oversimplifies some of the historical debates around conservation, and overlooks previous movements that aimed to enhance human connections with nature, such as the movements in the United States and abroad that drove the creation of American National Parks, or Forest Reserves in British colonies. The above- mentioned issues aside, the chapter does a good job articulating how members of the counterculture in the 1960s saw nature. This extends into an examination of the Back to the Land movement, an agrarian movement which emphasized societal reconnection with the natural world and a withdrawal from consumerist, industrialized culture. The section on the Back to the Land movement brings the focus of the book to Mendocino, Humboldt and Trinity counties in Northern California, today home to one of the largest cannabis growing regions on earth, the Emerald Triangle. Chapter 5 looks at a move towards “capitalized cannabis” from 1980 to 1996, especially in Northern California and Southern Oregon. This section illustrates how harsh enforcement tactics drove cannabis cultivation indoors and into remote areas of the forest, where it required large amounts of electricity or water diverted from streams in order to grow. Johnson also emphasizes the impact of fertilizers, pesticides, and rodenticides on watersheds like the Eel Rivers. In general, the points he raises about cannabis cultivation deserve greater attention, since the cannabis industry is commonly seen as somehow more green than other forms of agriculture. However, one of the main sources used to introduce his arguments about fertilizer comes from a 1985 report of the Campaign Against Marijuana Planting, or CAMP, which claims that 85% of growers use fertilizers or pesticides. Later in the chapter, Johnson talks about how most growers despised CAMP (making them unlikely to participate in a study), and elsewhere in the book, he also mentions the unreliability of much government research about cannabis. The chapter would have benefited from the inclusion of other estimates, and if Johnson would have tried to explore the different attitudes towards the use of fertilizers and pesticides in the Emerald Triangle more deeply.

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The last chapter of the book explores the march towards legal cannabis and its overall environmental impact. In Colorado, for example, he critiques the current laws which requires cannabis cultivation sites to be out of the public eye, encouraging them to be indoors where the plants grow underneath electricity-hungry grow lights. He also points out the large amount of plastic waste generated by the industry. The book concludes with a list of potential solutions, including green lighting alternatives, substitutes for industrial fertilizers or pesticides, and a shift away from prohibition more generally. Overall, Johnson’s book is a worthwhile exploration of cannabis in the American West, from an environmental as well as social perspective. The book complements much of the existing literature, despite some gaps, and provides several good starting points for future exploration. The fact that Johnson is a fellow MA student from Colorado, who went on to publish work from his dissertation in a scholarly press, is also significant, and hopefully inspiring for some of the readers of the Graduate History Journal.

Other Suggested Books On this Topic John Charles Chasteen, Getting High, (Lanham and Boulder: Rowman and Littlefield, 2016).

This book does a good job presenting a global picture of cannabis history, although the author’s use of casual language sometimes seems a little overdone, and the text could benefit from more footnotes.

Jonah Raskin, Marijuanaland: Dispatches from an American War, (New York: High Times, 2002).

Raskin’s work conducting interviews with growers, law enforcement officers, and others living in the Emerald Triangle offers a nuanced picture of the region, and can be read as a supplement to the last two chapters of Johnson’s book.

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Research Reflections pg. 8: “The Memory Box Project in Retrospect”—Timothy Vilgiate pg. 10: “The Kickapoo Fight for Sovereignty”—Kellen DeAlba pg. 14: “Researching uranium Mining and Reclamation on Navajo Land”—Donald Unger

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The Memory Box Project in Retrospect Timothy Vilgiate

Memory boxes produced by members of Phi Alpha Theta, February 2017. Photo by author.

If you were on the UCCS Campus between March and October 2017, there is a chance you noticed decorated boxes asking for passerby to write their favorite memories of UCCS on a notecard and to leave it in the box. Maybe you even took the time to write a memory on one of the index cards. Over the course of seven months, Phi Alpha Theta built and placed eight of these boxes around campus to collect memories and stories. The boxes accumulated a little over one hundred cards, all of which the club deposited into the Kraemer Family Library archives. This short essay describes the memory box project, discussing its goals and some of the challenges the endeavor faced so that other students, whether at UCCS or elsewhere, can use the idea in the future. It also briefly speculates on what use the cards might serve for future researchers. The Memory Box Project aimed to collect memories, thoughts, and experiences from people at UCCS. The anonymity of the index cards provided people with the option to freely speak their minds, and the placement of the boxes in a wide range of locations across campus enabled a diverse range of people to contribute stories. Ultimately, the project could be compared to a camera taking a very long-exposure photograph of the campus in 2017.

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Before constructing the boxes, Phi Alpha Theta contacted departments on campus to explain the project and ask for permission to place a box in their offices. The club held a box-making party after confirming all of the initial locations for boxes. Members of the club brought different kinds of cardboard or paper boxes, and art supplies to decorate them with. Each participant designed their box to reflect its eventual destination. An engineering student decorated a shoebox for the math center with her old linear algebra notes; I decorated the box for the Global Engagement Office with scrapbooking paper depicting old world maps. We also customized the prompt on each box to its final location. At times, a box might ask "What does this place mean to you?" and at other times it would ask something more specific to the location, such as "What is your favorite book you've checked out here?" in the library. Someone checked each box once a month and placed the cards into an envelope for the archivist. Transcription of the cards for the archives is still ongoing. Certain places required paperwork or were not open to keeping the box for the whole period, and so some boxes Cards from three different boxes collected in May 2017. Photo by Timothy Vilgiate. migrated throughout their time on campus. Some boxes, such as the box in the library or by the Ent Federal Credit Union branch on campus, recieved much more cards than others. Nonetheless, many of the most interesting cards came from "less productive" boxes. For example, someone deposited about eight polaroid photographs in the box placed in MOSAIC (Multicultural Office for Student Access, Inclusiveness and Community), after months and months passed without any cards. Although the library box recieved large amounts of cards when placed at the front desk, when it migrated to the much less trafficked reflective space, some Muslim students contributed heartfelt messages about how the room provides a safe place for them to worship. Because when people will contribute to boxes, and because of the frequent theft or loss of boxes in certain locations, I recommend that anyone who tries to replicate this project maintains a consistent collection schedule, even if a particular box does not recieve cards for a long stretch of time. I'd also recommend occasionally moving each box, since this opens the boxes to collecting wider range of potential memories.

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Many cards contained very thoughtful responses or memories: people described meeting their significant others, attending club events, or other interesting memories of life at UCCS. Still, as might be anticipated on a college campus, a number of the cards were either deposited as jokes, or meant to "troll" in some way shape or form. At one point, someone wrote about twenty cards filled with gibberish and scribbles and deposited them into the library box. Naturally, the question arose of whether or not these cards should be preserved. Ultimately, it was decided that, although the memories with more direct narrative content may have a more obvious utility for future researchers, the "troll" cards can demonstrate to historians in the future what kinds of comments or jokes students or staff might use to troll the memory boxes, contributing to a broader cultural snapshot of our campus during the deployment period. Regardless of how vulgar or nonsensical the card, we delivered each one to the archives. The question of whether or not to preserve certain cards leads me to the final consideration for this essay: what purpose might the memory box cards serve for historians and other researchers on campus? The cards collected touch on a wide range of topics, ranging from sex to religion to politics. First of all, as historical documents, their anonymous and private tone could benefit a researcher interested in early 21st century life. The card collection may provide researchers with interesting snippets of campus life not always visible in other documents. They also shed light on the meanings that certain people attached to different spaces on campus--the Writing Center, the Math Center, the Recreation Center. Ultimately, despite the challenges mentioned, I would deem the project a success. I'm grateful for the people who took the time to contribute their memories, and to the people who helped build and place the boxes. I hope that the memories collected by the memory boxes will prove useful in the future, and that other history clubs might consider trying the idea for themselves. The Kickapoo Fight for Sovereignty Kellen DeAlba The following is an edited transcript of an interview conducted by the editor with Kellen DeAlba on his research into the history of the Kickapoo Indians. Most questions by the editor are omitted, although some are included in bold. Some content has been edited for clarity. The Kickapoo consider themselves to have never been conquered; over the course of American expansion, they migrated southwest, eventually settling in Northern Mexico. Kellen traveled via car to the Kickapoo nation in 2017 at a time when the people were becoming more open to talking about their cultures with outsiders. Last semester I came across an chapter in one of the books we were reading for Professor Forrest’s class, InDivisible by Dr. Gabrielle Tayac, talking about Seminole and Muscogee Indians who happened to visit the court of Maximillian, Emperor of Mexico in the 19th Century, alongside the Kickapoo Indians who were living in the North of

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Mexico. This came as a surprise to me because I had never heard of these people living in the North of Mexico, and I know of most of the tribes or indigenous people living in the country. Once I read the chapter, I noticed that they were themselves immigrants to Mexico. I knew that the Muscogee and the Seminole came from Florida and the south of the United States, but I did not know anything about the Kickapoo. For this reason, they interested me very much—who are these people? I’d never heard the name. I wondered how they made it to Mexico, since seemed like an odd place for them to be. Through my research, I learned that they were originally from the Great Lakes region and that their migration to Mexico followed the path of American expansion over two to three hundred years of recorded history. Even though there is a lot of historical information out there, most of it is vague. And so how did you go about getting in touch with them? I decided to do what I have done before which is to go and learn about them firsthand. I called the government of Coahuila to see if they could put me in contact with the people because I could not find any way to contact them online. The government of Coahuila sent me to a department, who sent me to another department, who sent me a subdivision, who sent me to the town of Múzquiz, Coahuila which is near where they live. They sent me to another department, and after talking to five or six different people, I finally contacted someone who said, “I can get you in contact with the Kickapoo.” It took about two weeks to get responses back, getting phone numbers and contacting people through WhatsApp. It was interesting because I couldn’t get straight answers until I found this guy, Pedro, who was the part time director of culture for the department of Múzquiz, and a part time physical education teacher at an elementary school. I talked to him and I told him I wanted to visit, giving him the dates I would be visiting in March. He said, “Well, just come here.” I tried to get a confirmation, but I did not get a strict confirmation. Basically, they said, “Come on over, and we’ll figure it out.” When traveling for research, “We’ll figure it out” isn’t necessarily the most hopeful thing you want to hear, but I went. What was it like when you got there? The town is about a hundred miles in from the border with Mexico, so it took me a few hours to drive there and find the place. When I finally got there, Pedro asked me, “What is it that you are trying to do?” Even though I had explained it before, I figured he probably didn’t get it the first time. I explained my intentions, which were to learn about the people from themselves. I found resources, but most of the resources were from outsiders and scholars. I didn’t find any firsthand records or firsthand witnesses—and nothing by the people themselves. After he was confident that I was a student and I was just doing research, Pedro told me, “I’m going to get you in contact with them. I’m going to call my friend Andres.” We waited for a little bit before Andres arrived. By this time, I had prepared myself, and I brought gifts, because in Mexican culture you do not show

11 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 up without bearing gifts. It’s the same thing in many indigenous cultures. Something I brought in advance was tobacco—pipe tobacco—because since I learned that the Kickapoo were Plains Indians, I knew that tobacco was something that I should bring, especially if I was hoping to talk to the leader of the tribe. As we were waiting around under a tree outside of the elementary school, this guy starts walking toward us from around the corner—tall, dark skinned, strongly built guy. You could tell that he was not a regular mestizo Mexican—you can see his very high cheekbones, his long hair—it was obvious to me that he was a native American of the plains, or that he at least had the build of one. He came on over and introduced himself, quietly, and then as he asked me what is it that I am doing, he squatted to listen. I explained myself and said that I wanted to learn about the people from themselves. I wanted to know how they made it there. I had read the history, but that is what the outsiders say, and I was curious to know why there was nothing written about the Kickapoo in their own voice. And then I said, “I do not know if this your custom, but I came with a gift to the spiritual leader. I brought this bag of tobacco, and some beef jerky that I made myself as presents. I am not trying to publish anything in a newspaper, this is simply part of my education and I just want to learn.”1 After I showed him the tobacco, he stood up, and he said, “I am the spiritual leader of my tribe.” He is a young man, 28—his name is Andres Anico. He said, “How about we go eat, talk a little longer, and after Pedro is finished with school, we can go visit the town.” I think the gifts helped and so did being very honest about what I was trying to do. We had a good time talking while Andres and I ate and waited for Pedro to finish at the school. During the conversation I learned that the Kickapoo are very secluded. They do not like visitors, they do not like to be displayed as museum pieces, they do not want to be tourist attractions, they just want to be left alone. For example, the government in Mexico often puts huge signs of the name of the town, usually at the entrance of the town. You see it here, in Colorado Springs; at the edge of the town there is a sign. Mexico does that, but they do it more flamboyantly. Big letters, colors, and things like that. As we approached this town where the people lived, there was a sign with the name of the town, which was Nacimiento, which means “spring.” Underneath it said, Kickapoos y los negros mascogos, the Muscogee blacks. The sign is double sided so you can see it from either side of the highway as you drive in. However, the Kickapoo sign was torn—the letters were torn away—I learned that the Kickapoo themselves took the letters away because they do not want their presence in the town to be advertised to people driving in. As we entered the town, we first passed the section where the black Muscogee lived—another group of indigenous refugees from the United States living in Mexico, but

1 Over the course of Kellen’s conversation with Andres, the two of them reached an agreement about trying to spread awareness about Kickapoo culture, and Kellen made sure that Andres was aware of this interview and its publication in the journal.

12 The Springs Graduate History Journal that’s a theme for a different paper. Then we got to a part of the town which was filled with motorhomes and traditional buildings. The traditional buildings are made from cattails and tulip bark. They have two different kinds of buildings, one for the summer and one for the winter. The summer one is rectangular, while the winter one looks like a half egg on its side. No one but Kickapoo people are allowed in. Some of the buildings are meant to be actual homes, and some of the buildings are meant to be spiritual huts. I had the opportunity to sit in the car with Andres and with Pedro, and we drove into the canyon and into the mountains, and for about six hours we just talked. I couldn’t record any of this, as a sign of respect, and to show that I was just there to learn. And what did you learn? I learned that they don’t want to be known, necessarily, because they want to protect their traditions. They want to protect their language, their land, and most of the reason behind this is the troublesome history that they have. Certainly, they are refugees—they fought in almost every important war of American expansion to the West. As you learn about the history, you know that they participated in the French and Indian War, and previously in a war with the Iroquois, and previously in the war of Independence and the war of 1812, the war with Pontiac and Tecumseh, Black Hawk— the Mexican-American War, the Indian wars in the West, the Civil war. They are participants in almost every important event of American history. My paper talks about that search for independence or self-determination that they sought, and how difficult it was, because they lost people. They fought for a place to live, and some of them ultimately found a place to live in Mexico. It was interesting to learn about them—to learn about a people that did not want to be known. In my conversation with Andres, I suggested that sometimes it might be helpful to let the world learn about the Kickapoo, or else the world would just write about them without knowing the truth. I suggested that they could retain the things that are sacred and secret, while letting the world know the things that are relevant for them to know. He liked that idea. After this conversation, Pedro took me and Andres to a local museum which had some information on the Kickapoo, and as Andres walked around the museum, he let the museum people know that some of the things were wrong, and then he saw the importance of possibly rewriting some of the history. I left in good standing with him and have been in communication since. We made a plan that we would write the things that need to be known—at least for the people of the town of Múzquiz to receive. The Kickapoo are very well respected in the town because they are very unique. They keep to themselves, which makes tourists and scholars alike want to know more about them. At the same time, I think it is important to respect their desire for independence and solitude. What I suggested to Andres was that we needed to look at everything written about them from the outside—and if we find errors, fix them. If we find information that

13 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 is missing, lets provide it. And then, if there is information that they want to keep sacred and secret, then let’s do that, and explain to the people that there are somethings that are just better left alone. It brings to mind two examples: the Zuni in New Mexico, who have certain ceremonies that the world knows about, but they are sacred, so out of respect we must leave the ceremonies alone. It also brings to mind my own culture, in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, where there are certain ceremonies that are sacred, in that they are not published, even by a church that is known for its desire to be publicized around the world. I do not think it’s too difficult to find that balance—it can be done. The Kickapoo’s receipt of federal recognition from the United States government shows one of the ways they have worked to find that balance. As part of their recognition, they received land in Texas right on the border near the town of Eagle Pass, a small town. They built a casino there. Even if that brings tourists, it brings them to the reservation, not to the town of Nacimiento. The town of Nacimiento remains the spiritual center for the tribe, while the reservation has become the center of tribal offices, the government, and the casino. I think the younger generations and the newer generations understand that we live in a world of information, and that information is disseminated fast. There is a record that needs to be corrected and presented properly. This year the town of Múzquiz received a designation as a magical town, which is a designation for towns that have tried to clean up the area, to maintain their tourist “allure”, and the colonial or historical architecture of the town. As part of that designation, they invited Andres as leader of the Kickapoo tribe to accompany the leaders of the town, which he accepted. He went dressed in his own regalia, and, of course, was noticed right away when the presentations by the town were made. They understand that people want to know about these things—I think they’re still going to try to destroy that sign, but they are certainly willing to participate in town events and town festivals, and to provide information to the local museum. The town of Múzquiz which is next to Nacimiento received the designation, but the town of Nacimiento will never get it. First off, it is extremely small, and second, it is supposed to be a refuge for them. A place away from everything else. Researching Uranium Mining and Reclamation on Navajo Land Donald Unger The following is an edited transcript of an interview conducted by the editor with Donald Unger on his research. Most questions by the editor are omitted, although some are included in bold. Some content has been edited for clarity. After consulting with the UCCS IRB and the government of the Navajo Nation, Donald traveled to the Navajo nation to study the history of uranium mining reclamation on their tribal land. He walked away with a renewed understanding of what reclamation means for the

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Navajo people, and the paper that resulted from his research is currently being looked over by the Navajo tribal government.

In the mid-1950s, the area south of Monument Valley as well as this area of northern New Mexico became a prime site for uranium mining under the auspices of the Atomic Energy Commission and private industry. At this time, the Atomic Energy Commission thankfully requested detailed records from the different mining companies on a month-to-month basis so we are able to tell exact production notes from these sites: where they were and where that uranium ended up. It peaked by about 1960 and by 1969 the last of the uranium sites had shut down in this region, and in the Navajo nation in general. There was some sparse mining in 1985, until the Navajo nation issued a moratorium on uranium mining in 2000. It is a long history—from 1954 all the way to the mid-1980s, we have uranium mining occurring on that nation. This activity left behind large amounts of waste. There are over 1100 abandoned uranium mines on the Navajo nation through that time frame, and the NAML has reclaimed about 1087 of those.

How did you get interested in this topic?

After researching the historiography of mining reclamation, I realized that there was a lacuna in the study in that there has not been a synthesis of reclamation history. Historians from both the modern field and the ancient field were intensely interested in extraction narratives. This was also reflected in pop culture with teams like the 49ers and the Denver Nuggets, or shows on TV like Yukon Gold; there is a societal and academic focus on extraction. In history this is no different. With the goal of understanding more about the history of reclamation and what reclamation means, I focused my attention on a single micronarrative. I decided to go to the Navajo nation to look at the history of mining and reclamation on their tribal land.

The research began as a reclamation history. I asked general questions about reclamation, local institutions, and the land itself. As the research proceeded, and I continued to different sites and started to think about what had happened, my narrative became much more of a social history, concentrating much more on the people involved, and what it means for them to reclaim their own land. The project certainly evolved over time as new information presented itself. I went there to do a very general history of reclamation, and I ended up doing a social history of the people involved in reclamation.

And can you tell me about the process you went through to get IRB approval?

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After I completed training in research with human subjects, the UCCS IRB required that I present, as part of my application, permission from the tribe. Permission from the Navajo tribal government was needed prior to going to the IRB. In fact, they wanted that paperwork immediately. Because my project was so pressed for time, it all happened at once. The permission came through, the IRB application was turned in, I turned in a review within a week, and another week later I received permission from the University after the IRB determined that I was eligible for expedited review. As I learned in this project, saving the permission from the tribal authorities and the permission from the IRB council are two separate things, that is one thing I discovered in this project. To do the research for the University of Colorado requires IRB and Tribal permission, but to do the research for the Navajo Nation only requires permission from the Tribe. I was dealing with two different institutional entities that are speaking with each other and giving each other permission to allow me to get on the ground and do this research.

When did you start your research?

I started the permission process with the Navajo nation in August 2017, but did not visit until November. When I presented my proposal to the nation, I argued that a reclamation history had the power to perpetuate more reclamation, and that a mining history had more power to perpetuate mining. With this argument I contacted the Tribal authority at Window Rock, AZ, and presented the proposal. The Navajo Abandoned Mining Lands Department (the NAML from here on out) gave me permission, and tasked me to work with two different field offices: one in the east based out of Shiprock, NM, and one in the West based out of Tuba City, AZ. I was tasked to work with engineers specifically, as well as program managers from the NAML, and to visit different sites to learn more about the history of reclamation on Navajo land.

And what was it like when you actually got there?

From my first impression, I found the Navajo had a closed culture, as I found that the permissions were very short, and the conversations were very quick. There was not a lot of information about what was going to happen prior to the fieldwork. I was given one document by the Navajo Nation and the NAML in the eastern part of the territory-- the Shiprock office, an agenda that laid out our itinerary. However, things changed once I got there on the ground, and we did not follow the itinerary to the letter. The project was recieved well, and I say it was recieved well because not many people have been given permission to go where I have gone and done research. In the lands and sites that I had visited, in my later research, I realized that no one had done that kind of synthesis prior to my visiting.

16 The Springs Graduate History Journal

The first day we went to sites, where NAML wanted to evidence for me the evolution of reclamation. I went from Shiprock, New Mexico to the very northwest portion of New Mexico, to an area called Beclabito Tse Taa (which in Navajo is Bitl''aa bito, meaning Water Beneath), and both of these areas are right on the borderlands between Arizona and New Mexico. They showed me the first sites they had reclaimed and the processes they used. These were really rudimentary. I found that they were simply pits where they would deposit the radioactive mine wastes from uranium mines, sometimes with heavy rock over the top. From there, as the design moved forward, they showed me different sites that had what I would consider to be mitigation steps for both wind and water erosion. What I witnessed was how NAML had adopted designs purposed to prevent a lot of the hazardous mining materials from coming into the water sources this pastoral people use to raise their cattle, to plant their crops, and even as a source of drinking water.

Over the course of the trip, I talked with community members from the different areas I visited. I also spoke with NAML officials to include program engineers, GIS specialists, design and reclamation engineers, and with geologists from the organization. I was provided with a wide breadth of knowledge about what the NAML is doing on the sites. I discovered an evolution in the way they have approached reclamation as a result of what they have learned over the course of thirty years. I came in with a relatively static view of reclamation, a notion that reclaiming the land is the opposite of extracting from the land--it seemed like something very straightforward. As I continued and I worked with the NAML, I realized that, although reclamation included restoration of the flora and the fauna, an important aspect of it was also the community reconstruction projects. These projects were essentially there to educate the populace, to rebuild structures that had been built with hot, radioactive stones from the quarries, and to continue to educate a very traditional, pastoral population about the importance of understanding radioactivity. There is no word in Diné, the Navajo language, for radioactivity, so when you approach a traditional culture like this with a term like radioactivity, you have to use a term that they know like, as I learned, “vapor.” But “vapor” for the Navajo people is associated with medicine or sweat lodges, and so, for them, there is a positive connotation to that. Literally they are working with these people to define reclamation on the land, restore the community, and restore the flora and the fauna.

In Cove, Arizona, one of the places that we visited on the second day, about fifty miles from the Four Corners area, we discovered that the older population had been decimated by the initial mining activities. Then, as a result of the availability of stone at these uranium mines coupled with the lack of wood in the area, people built their houses, their hogans, out of radioactive debris. This ended up creating not just the initial site of violence, the initial problems with mining, but it became a generational

17 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 issue. The effects of uranium mining transcended generational boundaries and still affects people to this day. The disease that has been identified is called “Navajo neuropathy.” It is a disease very similar to what we might see outside of Chernobyl or areas like that, where people are born without eyes, or with hands being kind of crooked in--genetic defects at the chromosomal level. These effects have been well-documented in other studies under the name Navajo Neuropathy.

It is a sad story, but at the same time it was a story of progress. A lot of the modern historiography relies on the postcolonial notion of “wasteland theory”—the idea that a certain area of land is a wasteland, that it has been used and spent and it is not redeemable environmentally or socially. I find the notion of a wasteland is counterintuitive—a recovery is happening there, a restructuring of a society that has been misunderstood and therefore mistreated by the outside world. The history of reclamation for the Navajo people is a living history, in that reclamation was successful, reclamation is a progressive story about responding to outside pollution and recovering their land. In fact, the language I used in my paper was that they were “nationally unrecognized first responders.” The Navajo nation is still reclaiming their land for their people, and they are not receiving much recognition. I believe that recognition will have an effect, and that’s part of what I intended to do with this project.

For example, on one site visit, I traveled to a place about five miles west of Highway 60 with an engineer where we looked at US government land that butted right up against Navajo land. On one side of the fence, you saw radioactive signs: no grazing, no playing—stay out. On the other side of the fence you saw US government land, and right up to the fence were piles of un-reclaimed uranium overburden, or waste. Thinking about this, I realized that in a post-9/11 context, in the context of security in this country, the Navajo have cleaned up their side of the fence but the US government has not. It brings up an issue, and god forbid, but terrorists are interested in things like that. Under Title I of the Patriot Act, it states that there are funds available to take care of security issues like this. In my paper, used the language of the Patriot Act to argue that if they are not going to clean this up for environmental reasons, they need to do it for security reasons.

And what are you planning on doing next?

One of the things that the Navajo nation requested for me to do was to turn over my work for them to look at and approve before they give it back to me to publish. So there is still another process that is going on. I have yet to release this to the Navajo nation and I will next week. When I do, they may turn this into an internal document and use it for legislation. That is what I think will happen next. I really hope there is a positive outcome from this research--not only for the environment and the people; not

18 The Springs Graduate History Journal only redefining reclamation or illustrating the value of a reclamation history; but finally, it looks at this as a security issue and says that, in a post 9/11 context, there are implications for failing to deal with the aftereffects of uranium mining there.

19 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1

Articles Pg 21—“’The Spirit of Caesar in the Soul of a Woman’: An Analysis of Artemisia Gentileschi’s Seventeenth-Century Gender and Patronage” by Sydney Pearson

Pg. 42—“Blue Stocking Women in the Eighteenth Century British Public Sphere: Motivations of Lord Macartney Prior to the Embassy” by Michael Stephen

Pg. 63—“’We trace out all the veins of the earth’: Iberian Mining, Labor, and the Industrial Foundation of the Roman Empire: An Interdisciplinary Approach” by Donald Unger

20 The Springs Graduate History Journal

“The Spirit of Caesar in the Soul of a Woman” An Analysis of Artemisia Gentileschi’s Seventeenth-Century Gender and Patronage Sydney Pearson

Abstract: It is regrettable that the brilliant Italian Baroque painter, Artemisia Gentileschi, is perhaps best known for her rape by Agostino Tassi, or as her father’s student. It is notable and disturbing that even the briefest of references tend to place Gentileschi in a passive role: as a person who was raped, a person who was taught. Men have long dominated Gentileschi’s story, though art historians have begun to question this profoundly sexist narrative. Untangling the artist’s personal agency has been a difficult process because so little information about her has been unearthed beyond her visual art and her rape trial. In this paper I will address a typically overlooked treasure trove of information that sheds light on Artemisia Gentileschi’s career: the records of her patronage and personal business dealings across Europe. These records reveal not only a talented and highly sought-after artist, but also a woman who acted on her own agency, meeting the obstacles of gender and navigating them.

—Introduction— Throughout art history there were few women artists who scholars and collectors considered as great artists or masters of their profession; this gender bias persists even into contemporary times. However, there are a few women who went against the societal expectations for their gender in the arts, and ultimately achieved high levels of recognition and patronage. One of the most notable of these women was the brilliant Italian Baroque painter Artemisia Gentileschi.1 Artemisia was born July 8, 1593 in Rome and was the daughter of a professional artist, Orazio Gentileschi. Artemisia adopted her father’s interest in the work of Caravaggio and remains one of the only women to practice Caravaggio’s artistic style with psychologically violent realism and shocking subject matter.2 Artemisia retained commissions from the Medici family, King Charles the I of England, and numerous wealthy noblemen throughout her lifetime, yet scholars and contemporary popular culture inextricably link her career and deliberate stylistic conventions to a sensational rape trial in 1612, further diminishing the artists’ active role and agency. Artemisia’s trial has compelled the interest of biographers and scholars

1 To avoid confusion with her father, who was also an artist, I will refer to Artemisia Gentileschi by her first name throughout this presentation. Please note this decision does not reflect any disrespect or lack of acknowledgement of the artist’s talent or reception. 2 Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571-1510) was an Italian painter best known for his paintings that combine realistic observation of the physical and emotional human condition. He is perhaps most recognized through his use of dramatic light called chiaroscuro.

21 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 ever since the end of her lifetime. Perhaps this fascination lies within the events of the trial itself, during which she experienced torture under oath, her rapist (Tassi’s) witnesses were bribed, and the reputation and respect of famous artists, namely Tassi, Artemisia, and her father, Orazio were questioned.3 As a consequence, Artemisia’s artwork has frankly become consumed by the narrative of rape, and her paintings interpreted in the light of her presumed reaction to that experience. The idea of art as self-expression, however, is a modern notion, and one not necessarily applicable to the seventeenth century.4 Moreover, it remains vital to note that artistic commissions during the seventeenth century were primarily based on the tastes, subjects, and general preference of the receiving party.5 Artemisia would have carefully selected subjects, style, size, and medium based on location and the tastes of her patrons. Scholars can easily speculate that Artemisia might have shared a personal connection with the women she depicted, but in numerous ways, this diminishes her astonishing career and her self-conscious choices to successfully manipulate her artistic style, gender expectations, and aristocratic patrons. Contrary to popular assumptions, evidence illustrates Artemisia was not a prisoner of her psyche. Rather, she acted as a pragmatic woman of some agency, who shrewdly manipulated her patrons, adopting specific subject matter, styles, and business strategies throughout her artistic career. This paper utilizes documentary evidence to undercut the myth of the woman as a creature ruled by untethered emotion and uninhibited passion. However, untangling the artist’s agency remains a complicated process because historians have unearthed little information about her beyond her visual art and rape trial. Only through recent scholarship has Artemisia’s career been re- evaluated as not just a footnote to Caravaggio’s style, but as a significant exception in art history.6 A final vital note: the study of Artemisia’s artistic practice and life are still emerging through contemporary scholarship. Therefore, this thesis utilizes all of the available sources, but recognizes that there are several aspects of Artemisia’s history that remain elusive and unknown to scholars.7 Ultimately, Artemisia earned a reputable, but not an exceptional sum, especially for a mature artist with aristocratic patrons, as

3 Agostino Tassi (1578-1644) was an Italian painter who specialized in large landscapes. He is perhaps best known in contemporary times as the rapist of Artemisia Gentileschi. Tassi was found guilty of this crime through a Papal Court trial in 1612. Garrard, Mary D. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989). Appendix B: Complete trial translated into English. 4 Linda Nochlin. Women, art, and power: And other essays. Vol. 183. (Boulder, Colo: Westview Press. 1971). 5. 5 Richard E. Spear, Philip Lindsay Sohm, and Renata Ago. Painting for profit: the economic lives of seventeenth-century Italian painters. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010). 6 Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio (1571-1510) was an Italian painter best known for his paintings that combine realistic observation of the physical and emotional human condition. His style is perhaps best recognized by the use of dramatic light called chiaroscuro. 7 Current Professor at the University of Campania’s Department of Literature and Cultural Heritage, Riccardo Lattuada asserts, “The state of Artemisia scholarship is such that a single document or individual painting can alter our understanding of her work and her career substantially.”

22 The Springs Graduate History Journal proven through surviving correspondences, properly attributed paintings, and documented commissions. The quest to discover the network of patronage Artemisia operated within begins with a letter written by the artist to friend, Galileo, in 1635. This letter was one of the earliest letters from the artists and reveals insights into the seventeenth century aristocratic Florentine patronage practice. The following section contains multiple letters written by Artemisia to Neapolitan patron Don Antonio Ruffo. Artemisia’s artistic practice and her status among contemporary fine art collectors were discussed throughout these correspondences. The final case summarizes all the documented payments to Artemisia during her lifetime and compares her commissions to her male counterparts, including her father, Orazio. Despite the complexities of Artemisia research, scholars agree that she achieved an exceptional level of recognition and patronage for a female artist in her lifetime. In short, despite a good deal of recent scholarship, several aspects of Artemisia’s life and artistic career still remain obscure. This paper will adopt a contemporary approach to addressing a usually overlooked treasure-trove of information that illuminates Artemisia’s career: the records of her patronage and personal business dealings across Europe. These records reveal not only a talented and highly coveted artist but also a woman who operated on her agency, successfully meeting the obstacles of gender and navigating them. This research also utilizes sources written within the last twenty years of scholarship, with the exception of Linda Nochlin (1971) and Mary Garrard (1989), who remain foundational in research on women artists. Therefore, the thesis complements contemporary scholarship on Artemisia’s career and employs an archive of letters as primary sources that shed light on seventeenth century Italian patronage customs. — Education, Artistic Training, and the Question of Gender in the Arts— In seventeenth century Italy, children from upper and middle class households traditionally experienced their initial educational foundation at home under the instruction of their mother or ideally, humanist fathers. Beginning in the Renaissance, humanist fathers cultivated and encouraged increasingly Classical models of education for their entire household, dubbed household academies.8 From the inception of these household academies an alternative conception of virtue based upon education, revolutionized former dominant cultural and social ideals of feminine virtue. Religious morality determined feminine virtue prior to the rise of humanism; for women virtue

8 Sarah Gwyneth Ross. The Birth of Feminism: Woman as intellect in Renaissance Italy and England. (Boston: Harvard University Press, 2009). 1-3. Household Academies thrived from 1400-1585 and encouraged a “Classical” education which revolutionized education. The Household Salon (1580- 1680) became the poplar mode of education afterwards, which offered women more opportunities to be directly involved with education and cultural traditions of the time. This information is further detailed throughout the introduction in Part I and Part II, 3-16.

23 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 was often dictated by chastity. With the rise of humanism, however, the Christian ideals of chastity amalgamated with Classical ideals, and created a new ambiguous definition of virtue among both sexes.9 If male virtue and education are interconnected, then the same applied for women. Interestingly, an educational technique integral for all fine artists during the Early Modern period was predominantly reserved for males in academic institutes, this being the study of a nude model. For women of this period the opportunity to study from a nude model rarely occurred, resulting in a longstanding form of institutional discrimination directed towards women artists, as Gender Studies and Art Historian, Linda Nochlin addressed in “Why Have There Been No Great Women Artists?” Through a feminist critique of art history, Nochlin boldly asserted that there have been no “great women artists” due to institutional, ideological, and societal obstacles.10 Nochlin successfully demonstrated how a woman could never, in Western eyes, become a great artist due to reigning gender ideology and institutionalized sexism.11 From the Renaissance into the nineteenth century, any great artist had to obtain the technique of figure illustration, ideally from a nude model. Imperatively, the highest paid genre of this time was historical paintings, which required detailed anatomical knowledge.12 Remarkably, Artemisia was able to study from the nude model early in her artistic upbringing through her father’s studio. Artemisia’s artistic portfolio evidences her knowledge of the nude model. At the age of seventeen Artemisia painted Susanna and the Elders (1610) and the use of models continued throughout her artistic career was documented in letters and physical paintings, which remained a rarity for a seventeenth century woman artist. Further information about the qualities of historical paintings is essential to properly contextualize the magnitude of intimate anatomical knowledge derived from observation and illustration of the nude model and the exceptional case of Artemisia’s portfolio. Historical paintings traditionally featured numerous full-bodied figures who resided in significant landscapes in an attempt to portray a historical event, often comprised of one large canvas. Fortunately, artistic academies and apprenticeship programs offered the technical skills required to create historical paintings. However, these academies had a predominantly male population.13 During the seventeenth

9 Ross, 3-10. 10 Linda Nochlin. Women, art, and power: And other essays. Vol. 183. (Boulder, Colo: Westview Press. 1971). 1-2, 24-27. “The Question of the Nude” provides insight into this institutional discrimination regarding women artists and the lack of institutional opportunities to study from the nude. 11 Ibid, 5- 9. Nochlin described the “golden nugget of artistic genius” and the “syllogism” that, “If women had the golden nugget of artistic genius, it would reveal itself.” 8-10. 12 Ibid, 24. 13 Nochlin, 24-27. Information about institutional discrimination regarding the nude. Nochlin further stated, “To be deprived of this ultimate state of training meant to be deprived of the possibility of creating major art-or simply, as with most of the few women aspiring to be painters, to be restricted to the ‘minor’ and less highly regarded fields of portraiture, genre, landscape, or still-life.” 25.

24 The Springs Graduate History Journal century a majority of women would rarely pursue fine arts, yet Artemisia manipulated her artistic practice to suit the demands of aristocratic patrons across Europe throughout her lifetime. Artemisia remains the most well-known female to pursue the highest caliber genre of Italian historical painting, called istoria. Istoria paintings traditionally featured multiple figure compositions of Biblical or mythological narratives, portrayed in a deliberately psychologically illuminating and realistic style.14 Other female painters typically pursued genres that required less technical training including still-life, landscape, and devotional images.15 However, under the advisement of her father, Orazio, Artemisia acquired the rare technical knowledge of the nude and significant insights into the socio-cultural aspects of the seventeenth century fine art patronage system. In the High Renaissance and Baroque period, the question of gender in art remained a controversial topic. The problem of a woman artist can be traced all the way back to the Aristotelian ideology. All women were connected to the fall of man. According to this mode of thought, which was dominant thorugh much of Western history, the woman was defective, dangerous, unnatural, and inferior to man in every way.16 Women often had to create sweet, delicate, or work appropriate for their sex, which often complied with the lower artistic genres and craft.17 Yet most of Artemisia’s works defy Aristotelian ideology through subject, technical excellence, and their ability to subvert the male gaze. Artemisia’s most shocking subjects were also women who disobeyed Aristotelian thought: they displayed heroic strength, courage, and selfless action. Historian Julie Hardwick published an article that states people in Early Modern Europe viewed gender and family patterns as integral elements of authority structures. Failure to adhere to the familial and societal authority structures could negatively impact the individual and their associates.18 Additionally in a chapter titled, “Evolving the History of Women in Early Modern Italy: Subordination and Agency,” Elizabeth Cohn argued that Early Modern women should not consist of a universal category. Instead, she provided two models to

14 Patricia Emison. Italian Renaissance Learning Resources: In Collaboration with the National Gallery of Art. (Oxford: Oxford University Press and the National Gallery of Art, 2019). http://www.italianrenaissanceresources.com/glossary/istoria/ and http://www.italianrenaissanceresources.com/units/unit-6/sub-page-03/variety-in-an-istoria/ 15 Jesse M. Locker. Artemisia Gentileschi: the language of painting. (New Haven, Conn: Yale University Press, 2015). 1, 27. Nochlin described this in reference to the technical skill of illustrating the nude model and what denying that opportunity lead women to pursue “the ‘minor’ and less highly regarded fields of portraiture, genre, landscape, or still-life.” 16 Matthews, B. Gareth. “Gender and Essence In Aristotle,” Australasian Journal of Philosophy. 2012. 17 Linda Nochlin. Women, art, and power: And other essays. Vol. 183. (Boulder, Colo: Westview Press. 1971), 2-29 18 Julie Hardwick. "Did Gender Have a Renaissance? Exclusions and Traditions in Early Modern Western Europe." A Companion to Gender History. ed. Teresa A. Meade and Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks, (Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell Publishers, 2004), 343-357.

25 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 understand historical women: subordination and agency.19 The subordination model highlighted women’s vulnerability and dependence, like Artemisia’s letters to patrons for basic goods, like gloves and slippers. While the agency model focused on what women could do or say within gender norms, which Artemisia frequently exploited.20 Within the model of agency, Cohen drew upon networks and showed how patronage created alliances of protection and shared interests, like Galileo and Artemisia’s friendship. She also addressed motherhood, marriage, work, intellectual and artistic life, bodily matters, politics, place and local identities. She concluded with the notion that only through shuttling between the models of subordination and agency can scholars approach change and causality that occurred with gender in Early Modern Europe.21 Artemisia successfully alternated between the models of subordination and agency, as evident in her letters to patrons and her artistic portfolio. As previously mentioned, women’s involvement in the arts prior to Artemisia frequently complied with the lower artistic genres typically depicted in a soft and delicate style, acceptable for their gender.22 There are however some significant women prior to Artemisia who received their artistic knowledge and techniques from their humanist fathers such as, Sofonisba Anguissola (1532-1625), Catherina van Hemessen (1528-1588), Catherine of Bologna (1413-1463), Esther Inglis (1571-1624), Marietta Tintoretto (1554-1590), Lavina Fontana (1552-1614), and Fede Galiza (1578-1630).23 All of these women navigated discrimination and obstacles within the Early Modern sociocultural gender constructs. Returning to her artistic portfolio and visual evidence, it is obvious at a mere glance that Artemisia frequently defied the expectation for women to paint only what society considered delicate or otherwise appropriate to their gender. For example, Artemisia’s most well-known painting, Judith Slaying Holofernes, remained shockingly violent and directly contradicted the Aristotelian notion of woman as a docile and weak version of man.24 The second version titled Judith and Holofernes was gifted to the Medici family. However, the Medici duchess, “banished this masterpiece to a dark

19 Elizabeth Cohen. "Chapter 11: Evolving the History of Women in Early Modern Italy. Subordination and Agency." In Spain in Italy: Politics, Society, and Religion (Leiden: Brill, 2006), 325- 32 20 Ibid, 328-329. 21 Ibid, 344-352. 22 Linda Nochlin. Women, art, and power: And other essays. Vol. 183. Boulder, Colo: Westview Press. 1971). 2-29 23 Ibid, 30-37. 24 Image #1. Judith Slaying Holofernes, Artemisia Gentileschi, 1612, oil on canvas, 159 x 126cm, Museo Nazionale di Capodimonte, Naples (painting has been trimmed, original dimensions were closer to the Uffizi painting). Matthews, B. Gareth. “Gender and Essence In Aristotle,” Australasian Journal of Philosophy. Vol. 64. (Abingdon: Routledge, 2012).

26 The Springs Graduate History Journal corner of the Uffizi, where it remained until the late twentieth century.”25 The vivid imagery and psychological torment displayed in this composition likely inspired the duchess’ actions. Although Artemisia completed numerous versions of Judith throughout her lifetime, these versions remain the most known and studied versions of Judith.

Image 1, left: Artemisia Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes, 1614, Oil on canvas. Image 2, right: Artemisia Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes, 1620. Oil on canvas. Image 3, bottom: Caravaggio, Judith Beheading Holofernes, 1598-1599, Oil on Canvas.

Importantly, the women in Artemisia’s compositions display clear intentionality and sheer determination to complete the bloody feat. Artemisia also magnifies the significance of Judith’s maidservant’s contribution, making her an active participant in the gruesome event. Artemisia’s maidservant aids Judith through the act of physically restraining Holofernes as Judith commences the beheading, in contrast to Caravaggio’s Judith’s maidservant who merely observes the ghastly sight from a distance.26 In fact, Caravaggio’s maidservant seemingly attempts to obscure her view of the ghastly sight

25 Image #2. Judith and Holofernes, Artemisia Gentileschi, 1621, oil on canvas, 162.5 x 199cm, Uffizi Gallery, Florence. And Dr. Esperança Camara. “Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes.” Khan Academy. 2018. 26 Image #3. Judith Slaying Holofernes, Caravaggio, 1599, oil on canvas, 145 x 195cm, Palazzo Barberini, Rome.

27 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 with a cloth bag, intended for Holofernes’ freshly removed head, as is she was fully detached from Judith’s malevolent act. In contrast, Artemisia’s Judith and maidservant dominate the canvas, their muscular arms powerfully pin Holofernes to his death bed while his body writhes and anguished face contorts from the traumatic event unfolding. As his large hand desperately grasps the maidservant’s collar, Judith remains steadfastly determined as she forcefully thrusts a massive sword through Holofernes strained neck. Significant alterations between the 1612 and 1621 Judith highlight Artemisia’s ability to adopt local styles and tastes. For example, the detail of blood spurting in an arch of the 1621 Judith is strikingly different than the earlier Judith. The dramatic alteration of blood splatter could possibly be linked to Artemisia’s friendship and correspondences with Galileo Galilei and his scholarship on parabolic trajectories.27 In an effort to work towards an increasingly focused analysis of gender in Artemisia’s life, it is vital to note her significant alterations of artistic style and artistic patronage practice throughout her lifetime. A 1635 letter written to friend, Galileo, documented the frustration and confusion Artemisia experienced after gifting the Medici’s two large canvases and not receiving any acknowledgement of the paintings. In the correspondence Artemisia interestingly mentioned “a painting of Judith.” Perhaps this letter referred to the 1621 Judith and Holofernes supposedly gifted to the Medici’s earlier? Regardless, Artemisia’s words offer tremendous insight into seventeenth century Italian patronage and the practice of courtly language. Throughout the letter Artemisia refers to her Medici patrons as “His Serene Highness” and Galileo as “Your Lordship.” She also calls on classically inspired humanistic elements like “virtue” and “honor” to further her impassioned plea for assistance. The letter stated: “And I do this all the more spontaneously because another situation has developed similar to the one concerning the painting of Judith which I gave to His Serene Highness the Grand Duke Cosimo of glorious memory, which would have been lost to memory if it had not been revived by Your Lordship’s assistance. By virtue of that assistance I obtained an excellent remuneration. Therefore, I beg you to do the same thing now, because I see that no one is mentioning the two large paintings I recently sent to His Serene Highness with one of my brothers. I don’t know whether he liked them; I only know, through a third person, that the Grand Duke received them, and nothing else. The humiliates me considerably, for I have seen myself honored by all the kings and

27 Dr. Esperança Camara. “Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes.” Khan Academy. 2018. And Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989). Pages 38 and 334, provide references to Artemisia and Galileo’s friendship and knowledge about shadows. Galileo painted the moon shadows in 1610.

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rulers of Europe to whom I have sent my works, not only with great gifts but also with most favored letters, which I keep with me.28 This letter demonstrated the demands of aristocratic patronage and the process of artist’s gifting pieces to royal patrons rather than establishing an initial price. Patriza Cavazzini’s, Painting as Business In Early Seventeenth Century Rome, details the notion of artist’s gifting their work to wealthy patrons in anticipation of an increasingly generous payment. The act of gifting also distanced fine arts from low arts, like carpentry or manual crafts that had pre-determined costs or labor-based wages.29 For example, Artemisia gifted the above mentioned paintings in the letter to Galileo to the Medici’s, as she had prior with one of her many depictions of Judith. Through the process of gifting, Artemisia, would have likely received a higher sum than that of a previously negotiated price. Artemisia also alternated between models of subordination and agency throughout the letter to Galileo. She implores his assistance while employing Classical notions like virtue and humility. More importantly however, Artemisia concluded her letter with a bold statement, referencing all the honors her royal clientele provided in the past. Further correspondence between Artemisia and thrifty patron, Don Antonio Ruffo, elaborated and demonstrated the intricacies of seventeenth century Italian artistic patronage, and how a woman, like Artemisia, successfully navigated a system intended for men. —Letters from Artemisia to Don Antonio Ruffo, 1649-1651— Some of the most profound evidence of gender induced biases in the seventeenth century Italian artistic market are located in Artemisia’s letters to Sicilian patron Don Antonio Ruffo. Ruffo lived in Messina, located in northeast Sicily, and commissioned work from Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669), Anthony van Dyck (1599-1641), and Jusepe de Ribera (1591-1652). In 1649, Ruffo owned more than 166 paintings and had begun to establish contact with and to commission paintings from Artemisia. Their documented correspondence allows incredible insights into Artemisia’s standing among contemporary collectors as well as her dynamic personality, business acumen, and artistic practice. These letters also provide an intimate window into Artemisia’s professional, artistic, and personal life. Artemisia’s letters are riddled with cultural and societal constructs of gender and patronage from a female perspective in a time of male domination in the arts and artistic patronage. In the attempt to develop an economic perspective, Patriza Cavazzini’s Painting as Business In Early Seventeenth Century Rome, studies the complexities of patronage

28 Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989). Letter #9. 383-384. 29 Patrizia Cavazzini. Painting as business in early seventeenth-century rome. (University Park, Pa: Pennsylvania State University Press. 2008). 123-130. States the following, “…no self-respecting Italian artist would have worked for the open market beyond his earliest years.” 124. Pages 20-26 mention the devaluation of art work into craft through setting a price prior to the completion of the work.

29 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 and the art market in Early Modern Italy. Richard E. Spear’s and Philip Sohm’s, Painting For Profit: The Economic Lives of Seventeenth Century Italian Painters provides a painter’s point of view of patronage in different cities across Italy. Both of these texts function as ideal references for researching patronage practices across Italy, and how they change based on location. These texts are also relevant because most artists during the Early Modern period, including Artemisia, traveled based on commissions and the demands of patronage. In describing the highs and lows of artistic genres, material, size, and subjects, Spear successfully builds context and background for artistic patronage during this period. The scholarship mentioned above illuminates Artemisia’s letters and provides critical insights into the seventeenth century culture and society. There are thirteen letters of correspondence to Ruffo that span from 1649-1651. Several of these letters are from the year 1649, and these appear to be some of the first negotiations between the Artemisia and Ruffo. Artemisia utilized subversive agency through courtly language in her letters to ensure proper dialogue. Artemisia transparently addressed the question of gender in the arts through this written exchange from when Ruffo attempted to reduce the price of Artemisia's work after the negotiation occurred. In a letter written to Ruffo on January 30, 1649, Artemisia stated, “You think of me pitiful because a woman’s name raises doubts until her work is seen. Please forgive me, for God’s sake, if I gave you the reason to think me greedy. As for the rest, I will not trouble you anymore.”30 Artemisia attempted to validate her price by mentioning her experience in the patronage system, and then further attempted to legitimize her price by reminding him that she had experience in dealing with patrons, even those of higher status than he, cleverly offering him a self-portrait to “...keep in your gallery as all the other Princes do.”31This gesture ensured Ruffo could compete with international aristocracy by having Artemisia’s work and more importantly, a self- portrait, in his gallery. However, Artemisia utilized a desperate tone throughout several letters to patrons and friends, perhaps another example of Cohn’s subordination model. Artemisia’s financial concerns primarily involved health problems and her daughter’s wedding dowry. As a brief aside, it remains important to note that financial difficulties for artists in the seventeenth century did not represent the overall success or posthumous reputation of the artist. In another letter drafted to Ruffo on March 13, 1649, Artemisia claimed that she experienced bankruptcy due to an expensive wedding dowry for her only known daughter.32 The financial strain of raising a daughter as a woman separated from her husband and being solely financially responsible for her

30 Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press.1989. Letter #16. 390-391. 31 Ibid, Letter #16. 390-391. 32 Ibid, Letter#17. 391-392.

30 The Springs Graduate History Journal household is also documented earlier in a letter to patron Cazziano dal Pozzo in 1637. Artemisia pleaded, “I assure you that as soon as I have freed myself from the burden of this daughter, I hope to come there immediately to enjoy my native city and to serve my friends and patrons.”33 Artemisia had five children early in her marriage to Strozzi in 1613, but this period of her life remains obscure to historians due to a significant decrease in artistic output and known correspondences. Historians know that four of her children died young and that Artemisia married practically rather than passionately. In Baroque Italy, women who lost their virginity outside of marriage had a negative perception regardless of the circumstance.34 Artemisia had an expectation to marry after the trial to restore and maintain a positive reputation. She immediately married, moved to Florence, had children, and separated from her husband. Historians believe Artemisia raised her child as a single parent with little to no assistance from her husband.35 Therefore she was the leading provider for the family, which implied the wedding dowry would significantly alter her life in financial terms. An example of her financial distress lies in a letter Artemisia wrote to Ruffo of her dependence upon her patrons for simple items like gloves, slippers, and money to fund artistic expenses required to complete the patron's commission. Further evidence of her poor financial state was in the March 13, 1649 letter; Artemisia stated, “As soon as possible I will send my portrait, along with some small works done by my daughter, whom I have married off today to a knight of the Order of St. James. This marriage has broken me.”36 The letter continued to plea for future patronage, “…I need work very badly, and I assure Your Most Illustrious Lordship that I am bankrupt.”37 The letter contained an unusually desperate tone in its entirety, but the letter also offers insight into Artemisia’s personal and financial life. Although she appeared desperate, the letter concluded with a charismatic powerful note: Further, I want Your Most Illustrious Lordship to promise me that as long as I live you will protect me as if I were a lowly slave born into your household. I have never seen Your Most Illustrious Lordship, but my love and my desire to serve you are beyond imagination. I shall not bore you any longer with this womanly chatter. The works will speak for themselves. And with this I end with a most humble bow.38

33 Ibid, Letter #13. 387-388. 34 Gadol, Joan Kelly. "Did Women Have a Renaissance." Becoming Visible: Women in European History, (Boston: Houghton-Mifflin, 1977), 2-21. 35 Jesse M. Locker. Artemisia Gentileschi: the language of painting. (New Haven, Conn: Yale University Press, 2015), 180-186. 36 Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989). Letter #17. 391-392. 37 Ibid, Letter #17. 391-392. 38 Ibid, Letter #17. 391-392.

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Artemisia’s words highlight the impacts of gender on her marriage and her finances. The tone in this letter tends to contrast the overall tone in most letters to Ruffo, suggesting a different approach of psychological manipulation. In most letters Artemisia addressed Ruffo in an assertive, confident, and even masculine tone, but this letter seems unusually humble, personal, and even subordinate. Another common attribute in Artemisia’s letters was Classically influenced notions of religion and virtue. The insinuation of replication or copying appeared in an October 26, 1649 letter addressed to Artemisia by Ruffo, implying there were many craftsmen selling copies of desired images. An acquaintance of Ruffo’s had interest in Artemisia’s work, specifically a large painting of Galatea, a composition that the acquaintance saw in Ruffo’s gallery. Ruffo demanded that the piece must be different from the piece she had created under his patronage. Artemisia boldly replied, “There was no need for you to suggest this to me since, by the grace of God and of the Most Holy Virgin, it would occur to a woman with my kind of talent to vary the subjects in my paintings; never has anyone found in my pictures any repetition of invention, not even of one hand.”39 Artemisia employed the idea of divinely gifted talents to guarantee her patrons perceived her as a fine artist, not a craftsman. Through divine gifts and artistic virtue, Artemisia ensured Ruffo of her status as a fine artist and inability to duplicate any of her creations, as they were all a unique manifestation of her anointed artistic abilities. Artemisia continued negotiations by stating she preferred not to discuss the price before she completed the work. However, she noted that if the patron must know the price, “I want five hundred ducats for both: he can show them to the whole world and, should he find anyone who does not think that the paintings are worth two hundred scudi more, I do not want him to pay me the agreed price.”40 In the Italian Baroque art market, artists did not usually set a price before the completion of a commissioned piece. In fact, pricing a piece before completion could diminish art as a simple craft as Spear, Cavazzini, and Sohm extensively describe. The letter continued with: As for my doing a drawing and sending it, I have made a solemn vow never to send my drawings because people have cheated me. In particular, just today I found myself in the situation that, having done a drawing of souls in Purgatory for the Bishop of St. Gata, he, in order to spend less, commissioned another painter to do the painting using my work. If I were a man I can’t imagine it would have turned out this way, because when the concept has been realized and defined with lights and darks, and established by means of planes, the rest is

39 Ibid, Letter #25. 397. 40 Ibid, Letter #25. 397-398.

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trifle. Therefore, it seems to me that this gentleman is very wrong to ask for drawings, when he can see the design and composition of the Galatea.41 Furthermore, Artemisia warned Ruffo that because of her Roman origins, she followed Roman customs in regards to pricing and patronage. Each city had their own customs for pricing and commissioning artwork, but those involved in the art market also knew of other cities customs based on travel and various commissions across Italy. Artemisia recognized the price of art varied based on location and customs. In the assertion that she was Roman, she set a strict tone for negotiation and expectations.42 In Rome, the cost of a painting was more expensive than a price for the same painting in other Italian locations. Artemisia’s statement also emphasized the notion of artistic property. Her declaration and accusation of personally experienced gender discrimination holds power even today. In contemporary times, artistic property and license remains a profitable legal field. The fact that Artemisia had her artistic property stolen by a male patron and a male artist sheds light on gender biases induced through the Early Modern Italian patronage system. It was evident that Artemisia comprehended the gender dynamics of the competitive seventeenth century Italian art market. She judged these gender biases as wrong and refused to be robbed of her artistic property, as she had previously. To gain more knowledge on gender and patronage in the arts it remains important to understand the system that these letters allude to and document, the system of Early Modern artistic patronage. Rarely in this period would a woman negotiate her work, but Artemisia negotiated and delivered her work. In the Early Modern artistic market, painting contracts between artist and patron typically occurred between two male negotiators. The three preferred fundamental pricing mechanisms were gifting, negotiation, and adjudication.43 Often gifting was preferred form of distribution, as it would benefit the artist financially and socially. When the artist gifted a piece, the price varied on the patron’s perceived value rather than the actual value of the work. Therefore, artists rarely set prices before the completion of the work, and prices could often change.44 Gifting paintings involved negotiation on a social rather than commercial scale. When individuals negotiated prices, the art became a commercial item rather than a social transaction. However, records of these communications were frequently documented through letters, receipts, most commonly verbally, meaning there were several negotiations lost to history.45 Fortunately, there are some remaining letters from Artemisia to prudent collector Ruffo of Naples from 1649 to 1651. These letters provide

41 Ibid, Letter #25. 397-398. 42 Richard E. Spear, Philip Lindsay Sohm, and Renata Ago. Painting for profit: the economic lives of seventeenth-century Italian painters. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010. 12-13. 43 Spear, et. al., 12-13. 44 Ibid, 13. 45 Ibid, 13.

33 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 a window into Artemisia’s artistic practice and the prevalent gender biases embedded in Early Modern Italian artistic patronage. Artemisia’s letters offer provocative evidence of prevalent gender biases in the seventeenth century patronage system. The letter authored by Artemisia to Ruffo on November 13, 1649 remains of particular interest due to the savvy negotiation tactics through which Artemisia asserted herself directly rather than through a male relative or professional negotiator. The letter addressed to, “My Most Illustrious Sir,” a formal title that Artemisia utilized throughout her letters of negotiation. The letter immediately enters into price negotiations. The artist declared: With Regard to your request that I reduce the price of the paintings, I will tell Your Most Illustrious Lordship that I can take a little from the amount that I asked, but the price must not be less than four hundred ducats, and you must send me a deposit as all other gentlemen do. However, I can tell you for certain that the higher the price, the harder I will strive to make a painting that will please Your Most Illustrious Lordship and that will conform to my tastes and yours.46 The letter continued in a direct, authoritative tone, detailing another piece that she could not lower the price on any further due to the cost of supplies, size, and models. Artemisia stated, “I only wish to remind you that there are eight figures, two dogs, and a landscape and water. Your Most Illustrious Lordship will understand the expense for models is staggering.”47 The letter concluded with bold use of a historical figure to further assert her independence as a woman negotiating her contracts. Artemisia stated, “I am going to say no more except what I have in mind, that I think Your Most Illustrious Lordship will not suffer any loss with me and that you will find the spirit of Caesar in the soul of a woman.”48 By asserting herself as a woman with the spirit of a dominant male figure, Artemisia ensured that Ruffo would not typecast her as a submissive woman who allows men to negotiate her contracts, like her female contemporaries.49 Artemisia’s statements were extraordinary and bold. Importantly, this letter was not unique. Another letter from the same year, addressed to the same patron, had a similar independent and confident tone. In an attempt to further the notion of preconceived prices devaluing fine art to the realm of craft it remains vital to understand seventeenth century European culture towards high arts and crafts. The Genoese artist, Giovanni Battista Paggi vehemently defended painting against it being categorized as a manual art, servile, and mercenary.

46 Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989). Letter #24. 396-397. 47 Ibid, Letter #24. 396-397. 48 Ibid, Letter #24. 396-397. 49 Richard E. Spear, Philip Lindsay Sohm, and Renata Ago. Painting for profit: the economic lives of seventeenth-century Italian painters. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010). 34 and 137.

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While following numerous nobles of the time, Paggi argued that the negotiated prices for paintings demean the status of painting in general. Paggi declared, “If one sets a price for a painting from a painter as if one were ordering a from a carpenter, it makes it plebeian because that is what common shopkeepers do who wear smocks.”50 Paggi continues and claims a painter who agrees to compensation by the day is no better than a stonemason. In allegiance with Artemisia’s position on not wishing to disclose a price before the completion of the work, Paggi also acknowledged the subtle nuances of class association and a noble belief system that money soils the purity of art as well as the artist.51 Returning to Artemisia’s letters to Ruffo, they continuously demonstrate her confidence in her ability as an artist and a negotiator through the implication that she was not a simple craftsman, but a divinely inspired artist incapable of duplicating any artistic invention of her creation. She also stated that she undervalued her work and talent through the assertion: anyone would pay two hundred scudi more for her work.52 Artemisia also frequently utilized location to validate her artistic practice. Artemisia continued to allude to Rome, her place of birth, in several letters addressed to her patrons. Artemisia's letters excellently documented the contrast between Roman and Neapolitan patronage practices. The following letter provides numerous insights into Artemisia’s approach and concepts of seventeenth century Italian patronage. This letter is not long, but Artemisia’s voice, confidence, and intelligence remain powerfully enlightening. Artemisia told her patron Ruffo numerous reasons to ensure the price they agreed upon initially would not decrease. Ruffo notoriously haggled fees with all artists no matter their reputation or talent, but when he attempted to lessen the price of Artemisia’s commission, Ruffo encountered a barrage of well-considered counterarguments. One of the most revealing of these arguments remains, “I must caution Your Most Illustrious Lordship that when I ask a price, I don’t follow the custom in Naples, where they ask thirty then give it for four. I am Roman, and therefore I shall act in the Roman manner.”53 Artemisia also mentioned the price per figure as another angle to procure the initial agreed upon price. The artist went on: “In fact, if it were not for Your Most Illustrious Lordship, of whom I am so affectionate a servant, I would not have been induced to give it for one hundred and sixty, because everywhere else I have been paid one hundred scudi per figure. And this was in Florence, as well as Venice and Rome, and even in Naples when there was more money.”54

50 Ibid, 137-138. 51 Ibid, 137-145. 52 Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989). Letter #25. 397-398. 53 Ibid, Letter #25. 397-398. 54 Ibid, Letter #16. 390-391.

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Artemisia rarely mentioned a price per figure compensation until her late letters, which may imply subtle shifts in the patronage system. Artemisia’s tactics are enlightening in two regards. First, her comments alluded to the financial difficulties Naples experienced after the revolt of Masaniello (1647- 1648), and second, this letter highlighted the claims made by Baroque painters when pressured by their patrons to lower prices.55 In Naples, the prices for large complex subjects ranged from 200-300 ducats, while in Rome the same subjects could fetch 400- 500 ducats.56 The fluctuation in price should not be surprising, since Rome had the highest cost of living in comparison to other Italian cities. In concert with her male contemporaries in seventeenth century Naples, Artemisia often complained about the price of models.57 Other letters to Ruffo also centered on the cost of a nude model and the acquisition of a decent model. Artemisia echoed these notions in the same letter written November 1649. Artemisia reluctantly stated a price for two pieces, 500 scudi, and claimed, “I assure Your Most Illustrious Lordship that these are paintings with nude figures requiring very expensive female models, which is a big headache. When I find good ones they fleece me, and at other times, one must suffer their pettiness with the patience of Job.”58 The price and procurement of nude models was a common complaint from artists across Italy in the seventeenth century, but Artemisia mentioned the price of models as a frequent counterargument to thrifty patrons. In another letter to Ruffo, Artemisia stated, “When I receive the note I will finish the painting, the expenses are intolerable, because out of fifty women who undress themselves, there is scarcely one good one.”59 Artemisia found herself forced to ask for advances, or increased funding to provide the cost for nude models. As mentioned, the price for models must have been staggering, due to the amount and frequency of this specific complaint with both male and female artists. The November 1649 letter from Artemisia fully demonstrated the complex dynamics of artistic patronage during the seventeenth century art market. Artemisia also employed the economy of gift exchange with patrons like Ruffo, and the concept of it being impossible to reduce the price due to the cost of artistic expenses. For example, Artemisia claimed, “…I cannot give it to you for less than I have asked, as I have already overextended myself to give the lowest price. I swear, as your servant, that I would not have given it even to my own father for the price that I gave you…”60 The letter continued to state that once Ruffo beheld the work, he would

55 Richard E. Spear, Philip Lindsay Sohm, and Renata Ago. Painting for profit: the economic lives of seventeenth-century Italian painters. (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010), 137-138. 56 Ibid, 116-126. 57 Ibid, 37-40, 125-138. 58 Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. (Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989). Letter #25. 397-398. 59 Ibid, Letter #19, 393. 60 Ibid, Letter #19, 393.

36 The Springs Graduate History Journal immediately understand the cost of the piece and not view Artemisia as presumptuous due to the incontestable superiority of her work. Artemisia frequently claimed that her quotes represented the lowest possible prices and they could not be lowered any further. She also suggested that her patrons get her work appraised by anyone, displaying confidence that anyone could ascertain value in her work. Artemisia’s self-awareness in her prices, talent, work, and reputation radiate through these letters. Economic historian Richard Spear claims it seems as though Artemisia did reasonably well, as she was able to demand a high summation per painting, as far as her Naples commissions, and she did not receive much less than her male equivalents for comparable works.61 Economic historian, Fernand Braudel assessed in the sixteenth century Mediterranean economy below 20 scudi a year signified a meager income, 20-40 scudi a small income, and 40-150 scudi as adequate annual income (Scudi is the plural form of scudo, the silver coin currency of the Papal States until 1866). For example, a family in Rome could live comfortably in 1600 on 90-110 scudi a year, but Rome had the highest cost of living in Italy. Most frequently Artemisia received payment in scudi; however, scholars know Artemisia’s patronage surpassed the boundaries of the Papal States. When considering the vast distance between ordinary wages and the price of art, it would have been impossible for the average person to afford an easel painting, or even a copy, which usually cost 15 scudi.62 It seems as though Artemisia made a respectable living as an artist, even though she never earned as much as her father or her male contemporaries. — Payments to Artemisia in Comparison to her Male Contemporaries – Undoubtedly, Artemisia never achieved the same commissions as her male counterparts, including her own father, regardless of her ability to maintain international aristocratic patronage throughout her career. In an attempt to study Artemisia’s economic condition in comparison to her male contemporaries, Spear’s “Money Matters: The Gentileschi’s Finances”, dissected Artemisia’s and Ozazio’s finances in relation to the cost of models, materials for painting, hiring assistants, and cost of living in seventeenth century Italy. The earliest documented payment to Artemisia occurred in 1615-1616 when she earned 20 scudi for an Allegory of Inclination ceiling painting for the gallery in Casa Buonarroti. Twenty scudi was a modest payment for the type of painting and other known commissions from Buonarroti.63

61 Richard E. Spear. “Money Matters: The Gentileschi’s Finances.” In Artemisia Gentileschi: Taking Stock. .” In Artemisia Gentileschi: Taking Stock. Ed. Judith W. Mann. (Turnhout: Brepols, 2005), 147- 148. 62 Ibid. Includes all the information from Braudel and average incomes in sixteenth century Italy, specifically Rome. 157. 63 Ibid, 147.

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The next documented payment to Artemisia occurred later in her artistic career in 1627 and earned a far higher payment than the previously mentioned piece. Artemisia received 147 scudi for an unfortunately lost Hercules and Omphale commissioned by King Philip VI of Spain.64 This commission was not a lavish sum, in consideration of the complexity and it was notably less than what the king paid the more famous, Domenichino, for comparable work. Domenichino documented payment of 1000 scudi for two large canvases that belonged to the same series as Artemisia’s piece proves a pricing discrepancy indicative of gender discrimination.65 Most of the other documented payments derive from Artemisia’s years in Naples (1630s-1650s), when there was a wide range of payments from 17-100 scudi. Later in the 1640s, Artemisia painted a large eight figured Bath Of Diana for 195 scudi, regrettably this painting was also lost or perhaps misattributed to one of her numerous male peers.66 The links of patronage and written letters demonstrated that Artemisia collected a reputable, but not an exceptional sum, especially for a mature artist with distinguished royal patrons. In comparison to her male counterparts, 195 scudi for a sizeable eight-figure canvas remained inexpensive. Artemisia’s patron Ruffo had paid Ribera 225 scudi for a large Pieta, while the same year Ruffo paid Artemisia half that for a multiple figured Galatea.67Artemisia also made less than her father. Orazio received a commission to paint large public pieces, often religious, which ranged from 150-300 scudi for a few months’ work.68 Regrettably, there is a lack of scholarship dedicated to the cost of making a painting in seventeenth century Italy, which had a significant impact on an artist’s gross earnings. The precious pigment ultramarine blue, used most frequently in frescos or altarpieces, cost up to 50 scudi an ounce in Rome (1631).69 The cost of a large canvas made of quality materials ranged from 2-8 scudi. Artist’s brushes in the seventeenth-century were inexpensive, most cost less than a hundredth of a scudo. Spear estimates that Orazio and Artemisia, on average, spent no more than 5-15 scudi per painting, dependent upon size and complexity. These numbers do not include the cost of rent for a studio, models, or the cost of assistants.70 Unfortunately, there is not enough data to calculate Artemisia’s income over her lifetime, but what is known that Artemisia earned a relatively high income compared to the broader population. In Rome around 1607, a field worker earned about 50 scudi a year and a skilled craftsman about 85 scudi annually. In 1627 Artemisia received 147 scudi for her Hercules and Omphale, when, in comparison, a member of the Swiss Guard earned a quarter of that sum annually. Orazio’s 1605 piece, Circumcision eared him 303 scudi; although this is not

64 Spear, 149. 65 Ibid, 148-149. 66 Ibid. 149-155 67 Ibid. 149. 68 Ibid. 153-155. 69 Ibid. 153. 70 Ibid. 154-155.

38 The Springs Graduate History Journal his highest paid commission, this sum still rivaled that of a university professors’ annual income.71 Although Artemisia rose to the level of aristocratic patronage, she never attained the same level of recognition or patronage as her male rivals. Her inability to reach equivalent commissions of male contemporaries may be rooted in gender biases, the demands of the art market, or personal tolls within Artemisia’s lifetime, but the fact remains clear. Artemisia earned considerate commissions, but she could never rise to the same level of patronage as her male counterparts regardless of her aristocratic connections or talent. —Conclusion— In contemporary times, bankruptcy is often correlated with failure, but that is not necessarily the case with Artemisia’s bankruptcy. In fact, numerous artists in this period struggled financially. The modern notion of the starving artist has deep roots within the artistic tradition. Baroque artists such as Rembrandt van Rijn (1606-1669) and Adam Elsheimer (1578-1610) experienced significant financial difficulties.72 Historians know that Artemisia took on an assistant in 1653 and still accepted patronage until 1654. Artemisia’s cause and time of death remain uInknown, but scholars speculate that she may have died in the plague of 1656.73 However, poets continued to write about her into the 1690s. For example, Italian art historian Bernardo de’Dominici (1683-1759) wrote an eighteenth century biography of artists in Naples and featured Artemisia in a prominent position in the development of the city’s artistic painting style, mannerisms, and technique.74 In addition, many of her male contemporaries adopted her use of color and included artists Bernando Cacallino (1616- 1656), Francesco Guarino (1611-1654), Pacecco de Rosa (1607-1656), and Agostino Beltrano (1607-1665).75 Moreover, Artemisia’s style heavily influenced Cacallino's work to such an extent that scholars still question proper attribution; several pieces are attributed to both because the identity of the real artist remains unknown. It is clear that Artemisia had an impact on artistic culture and style while she navigated a gendered profession. Artemisia demonstrated agency, intelligence, wit, and use of courtly language when drafting letters to patrons. She remained fully aware of the gender bias that existed when she produced art. Artemisia comprehended that men dominated the Early Modern European art market. Yet in spite of gender obstacles, Artemisia achieved aristocratic patronage and influenced artistic styles of her time. Her use of color is of

71 Spear, 157. 72 Jesse M. Locker. Artemisia Gentileschi: the language of painting. New Haven, Conn: Yale University Press, 2015, 185. 73 Ibid, 184-185. 74 Ibid, 185. 75 Ibid, 121-122.

39 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 particular importance as it inspired several male artists to utilize similar color palates. Such views are clearly expressed in a letter addressed to Duke Francesco I d’Este in 1635 stated: However, it seems to me that for three reasons I rightly should devote part of my meager talent to Your Highness. First, because my most humble house is at the service of your illustrious house. Second, because I have served all the major rulers of Europe, who appreciate my work, even though it is the fruit of a barren tree. And third, because it would provide the evidence of my fame.76 Artemisia remained completely aware of the problem of gender in the arts. All of her letters featured some mention of gender or a gendered perspective of the arts during this period. Maybe Artemisia understood at an early period that she would have no artistic legacy as she referred to her work as the “…fruit of a barren tree...”77 This persistent acknowledgment of gender makes Artemisia’s letters and artwork particularly interesting to contemporary scholarship. As a brief aside, Artemisia was not the only woman in this period to express resistance against imposed societal gender norms. A Corresponding Renaissance: Letters Written by Italian Women 1375-1650 by Lisa Kaborycha featured letters that contained a similar sentiment in regards to gender as Artemisia’s letters. Some of the letters are quite brazen in their wording and content, and some even more so than Artemisia’s letters. The fact that women wrote and conceptualized ingrained societal, cultural, and institutional gender discrimination at this time requires further investigation. All of these women predate the emergence of feminism by several hundred years yet they still valiantly remonstrate their oppression. Clearly, Artemisia did encounter gender obstacles on an institutional, societal, and cultural level, yet she overcame those biases to become an influential artist not only in her time but also contemporary times. Artemisia remains a true exception to her gender, and to the canon of “traditional” art history.

76 Mary D. Garrard. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press.1989. Letter #6a. 386. 77 Ibid, Letter #6a. 386.

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—References— Camara, Esperança. “Gentileschi, Judith Slaying Holofernes.” Khan Academy. 2018. https://www.khanacademy.org/humanities/monarchy-enlightenment/baroque- art1/baroque-italy/a/gentileschi-judith-slaying-holofernes Cavazzini, Patrizia. Painting as business in early seventeenth-century rome. University Park, Pa: Pennsylvania State University Press, 2008. Cohen, Elizabeth. "Chapter 11: Evolving the History of Women in Early Modern Italy. Subordination and Agency,nm0-lp" Spain in Italy: Politics, Society, and Religion. Leiden: Brill, 2006. 344-352. Cohen, Elizabeth S. “The trials of Artemisia Gentileschi: A rape as history” The Sixteenth Century Journal. Vol. 31, No. 1. Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2000. 47-75. Garrard, Mary D. Artemisia Gentileschi: The image of the female hero in Italian baroque art. Princeton, N.J: Princeton University Press, 1989. Gentileschi, Artemisia, Judith Walker Mann, and St. Louis Art Museum. Artemisia Gentileschi: Taking stock. Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2005. Hardwick, Julie. "Did Gender Have a Renaissance? Exclusions and Traditions in Early Modern Western Europe." A Companion to Gender History. ed. Teresa A. Meade and Merry E. Wiesner-Hanks. Hoboken, NJ: Wiley-Blackwell Publishers, 2004. 343-357. Kaborycha, Lisa. A Corresponding Renaissance: Letters Written by Italian Women, 1375-1650. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2016. Locker, Jesse M. Artemisia Gentileschi: the language of painting. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2015. Matthews, B. Gareth. “Gender and Essence in Aristotle,” Australasian Journal of Philosophy. Vol. 64. Abingdon: Routledge, 2012. Nochlin, Linda, Women, art, and power: And other essays. Vol. 183. Boulder: Westview Press, 1998. Ross, Sarah Gwyneth. The birth of feminism: Woman as intellect in Renaissance Italy and England. Boston: Harvard University Press, 2009. Spear, Richard E. “Money Matters: The Gentileschi’s Finances.” In Artemisia Gentileschi: Taking Stock. Ed. Judith W. Mann. Turnhout: Brepols, 2005. Spear, Richard E., Philip Lindsay. Sohm, and Renata Ago. Painting for profit: the economic lives of seventeenth-century Italian painters. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2010.

41 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1

Blue Stocking Women in the Eighteenth Century British Public Sphere Motivations of Lord Macartney Prior to the Embassy Michael Stephen

Abstract: According to James Hevia in his 1996 book Cherishing Men from Afar, Lord Macartney’s outlook during the Embassy to China in 1793 was primarily motivated by his membership in the Literary Club. The Literary Club was founded by Sir Joshua Reynolds and Dr. Samuel Johnson in 1764. Hevia argued that the Club, as it was known by its members, was “an expression of the public-sphere culture.” This paper argues that Macartney’s influence, prior to the Embassy’s departure from England in 1792, had nothing to do with the Club. Instead, a more nuanced “rational exchange” occurred external to the Club. Evidence suggests that Macartney, along with Johnson and other Club members, interacted with women of the Blue Stockings. Blue Stockings were an example of Eighteenth Century bourgeois society women in England. Correspondence and memoirs placed Macartney with Johnson and the Blue Stockings during the period of 1779 to 1780. Women of the Blue Stockings (along with one outsider, Elizabeth Craven) acted with intent in manipulating the salon environment of London in order to facilitate a moral conversation for themselves and Johnson. Morality was explicitly mandated by essays written by Blue Stockings for Johnson’s Rambler in 1750. Macartney’s outlook during the Embassy can then be viewed as moral in charact

—Introduction— James Hevia, in his rereading of previous historiography that viewed late Imperial China's tributary system as a reason for Lord George Macartney’s failure in 1794 to open trade with Britain, argued that the Eighteenth Century public sphere in London was the intellectual stimulus behind Macartney’s embassy.1 Hevia posited the Literary Club, founded in 1764 by preeminent moral essayist Dr. Samuel Johnson and painter Sir Joshua Reynolds, as the locus of Macartney’s motivation, as he would become a member in 1786.2 But what Hevia did not consider was the preponderance of intellectual and moral agency within a group of highly educated, bourgeois English women, self-identified as Blue Stockings, who hosted social gatherings in which Macartney participated along with Johnson prior to his membership in the Club.

1 James Louis Hevia, Cherishing men from afar: Qing guest ritual and the Macartney Embassy of 1793 (Durham: Duke University Press, 1995). 62-63. 2 Ibid. 64. The founding members would later refer the Literary Club simply as the Club.

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European merchants since the Seventeenth Century were restricted to the southern coast of China in Canton and trade within the interior was forbidden.3 By the last two decades of the 1700s, the British Empire sought to break out from the prohibitive constraints of the Canton System and expand trade to the northern part of China. The Macartney Embassy (1792-1794) was Britain’s first diplomatic contact with Imperial China. The Embassy, as part of its main mission, pursued extension of trade to China’s eastern coastal ports, subsequently allowing more exports from the British Isles. Lord Macartney took presents that he hoped would impress upon the Qing emperor the culmination of enlightened ideals of science, art, and commerce. To ensure no damage to the more intricate gifts, Macartney negotiated with the two Chinese ministers assigned to the Embassy. He succeeded in keeping the gifts at Peking instead of them continuing on to the emperor's summer residence located north of the imperial capital.4 Macartney’s decisions about the gifts were made after the Embassy's five week trip up the eastern coast from Macao, prior to his audience with the Qianlong emperor on September 14, 1793.5 Macartney, responding on 31 July to a request for a list of the presents from the Chinese ministers, stated that “[h]is Britannic Majesty has been therefore careful to select only such articles as may denote the progress of science and of the arts in Europe and which may convey some kind of information [that] may be practically useful.”6 Macartney’s reply suggests that the gifts encapsulated, at least for Macartney, a practical meaning reasonably recognizable to the emperor. This article will investigate the origins of meaning or symbolism that Macartney imbued upon the gifts prior to the embassy's departure in 1792. By placing Macartney within the temporal and spatial context of mid-Eighteenth Century Britain, the intent is to shed surprising new light on both his intellectual and ethical motivations. The following discussion will suggest that by the 1750s British bourgeois women, because of their education and place in society, were proactively involved in social circles that encouraged reciprocal intellectual and moral discourses amongst both women and men, and the ideas they formed directly influenced how Macartney viewed and presented the

3 Earl H. Pritchard, "The Instructions of the East India Company to Lord Macartney on His Embassy to China and His Reports to the Company, 1792–4. Part I: Instructions from the Company," Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland 70, no. 02 (1938): doi: 10.1017/s0035869x00087906. 1. 4 Ibid. 75, 79-80. In addition to keeping the gifts at Peking, Macartney further attempted to manipulate the opinion of the Qing court and adjusted the ceremonial bowing (the kowtow). Macartney bowed to one knee instead of completely prostrating and touching his forehead to the ground three times: Ibid, 100. 5 Canton and Macao were in the area of present day Hong Kong. The Embassy departed Macao on June 23 and laid anchor on July 28 in present day Bohai Bay. Lord Macartney and J. L. Cranmer-Byng, An embassy to China: being the journal kept by Lord Macartney during his embassy to the Emperor Ch'ien-lung 1793-1794 (Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1963). 69-70. 6 Macartney and Byng, An embassy to China. 71. George Macartney, "Catalogue Of Presents for the Emperor Of China, 2 Aug 1793", Letter (London, 1793), India Office Records and Private Papers, British Library Archives & Manuscripts. IOR/G/12/20 (NEG 1084) ff. 30.

43 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 emperor’s gifts during the conduct of the Embassy. The context in which women directly manipulated the physical space of the salon, and which Macartney shared his gifts, is contrasted by James Hevia’s male-dominant narrative of the British public sphere in Cherishing Men from Afar. James Hevia argued that, according to Confucian tradition and entrenched guest ritual rites within late Eighteenth Century Qing court, the Chinese emperor cherished men from afar.7 Hevia provided a clear interpretation of Chinese motivations that placed constraints upon Lord Macartney's Embassy. Hevia’s purpose was to step away from the traditional depiction of the Macartney Embassy as a “collision of cultures,” in which the West clashed with the ancient Chinese tributary system. 8 Instead, he viewed both the Macartney Embassy and the Qing court's actions, within the guest ritual, as “cultural productions.”9 Simultaneous but incongruent visual and textual representations of global power took place.10 Hevia made a theoretically astute argument that Macartney’s negotiation of the presents was transference of the British bourgeois public sphere. Hevia relied on the model provided by Jürgen Habermas of the public sphere consisting of novel social institutions (i.e. salons and men's clubs) which influenced public opinion.11 In the case of Eighteenth Century Britain, bourgeois society was formed mainly by landed gentry linked socially and politically to the aristocracy. Hevia further argued that Macartney extended the public sphere to China as a means to communicate ideas of commerce and diplomacy.12 The extension was based on the notion that negotiation, through which rational exchange produced 'reciprocal advantages,’ mutually benefited both parties.13 Hevia cited the Literary Club (henceforth referred to as the Club) as the point-of-origin for this notion.14 However, his assertion of the Club as an example of British public

7 Hevia’s 1995 monograph title, Cherishing Men from Afar, refers to the mandate that the Chinese emperor “was enjoined to cherish all men from afar and treat them with equal benevolence and compassion.” James Louis Hevia, Cherishing men from afar. 209. Book reviews of Hevia’s monograph were overwhelmingly positive about his research within Chinese archives but felt that his scholarship on British motivations was not as well balanced: John Lee, "Cherishing Men from Afar: Qing Guest Ritual and the Macartney Embassy of 1793, by James L. Hevia. Durham, North Carolina, Duke University Press, 1995." Canadian Journal of History 31, no. 1 (1996): doi: 10.3138/ cjh.31.1. 151. 8 Ibid, 25. Hevia’s use of the term “collision of cultures” perhaps alludes critically to Alain Peyrefitte’s book The Collision of Two Civilisations. Peyrefitte’s work was originally published in French under the title L’Empire Immobile in 1989. Peyrefitte was criticized by most post-colonial historians for placing too much of the blame on the Chinese for the Embassy’s failure to provide equitable concessions to English merchants in Canton and open trade further in the north. 9 Ibid, 59. 10 Ibid, 25.Hevia’s post-modern theoretical framework will not be elaborated here. Suffice to say though that Hevia’s own discussion argued that “contact between two expansive colonial empires” involved “principles of organization as discourses of power, each produced by a ruling bloc for the maintenance of its position and the reconfiguring of its social world.” 11 Hevia, cherishing men from afar. 62-63. 12 Ibid, 62. 13 Ibid, 62. 14 Ibid, 64.

44 The Springs Graduate History Journal sphere, at least for Macartney, falls short. This shortfall is based on two reasons. First, Hevia attributed Macartney’s influence to the Club’s founding member, Dr. Samuel Johnson.15 But Johnson died in 1784 and Macartney was not a member of the Club until 1786. Secondly, Hevia disregarded any possibility of influence on Macartney external to the Club. James Hevia's Cherishing Men from Afar provided adequate interpretation for other historians in regards to China and its relation with the West. Though Hevia's outlook on Britain is underwhelming and his connection of the Literary Club as an example of the public sphere unassured, his thesis is still relevant today. Theoretically, the Habermasian model of the bourgeois public sphere in Britain is still supported here. Hevia constituted his theoretical backbone for his argument by stating that ''one of the major strengths of [Habermas] is to draw attention to the specificities of history.”16 The reader should view this essay as providing more detail of historical events in Eighteenth Century England and, in so doing, view it also as an expansion on Hevia’s outlook of the public sphere (henceforth referred to as the Hevia-Habermas model). This discussion will show that the British public sphere’s influence on Macartney had very little to do with the Club. Instead, the bourgeois public sphere in England was much more nuanced. The ladies of the Blue Stockings were active moral agents alongside Johnson and Macartney. This moral agency was connected to the view that card-playing within social circles was immoral in that it inhibited conversations, particularly with Johnson. The period this group was together was from the time Lord Macartney was returned by France to England in September 1779, after his capture in Grenada earlier in July, and until approximately September 1780 when he became an M.P.17 Evidence will illustrate that women were a more dynamic example of rational exchanges, and that their interactions with men like Johnson and Macartney did produce reciprocal advantages. Key evidence will show that Blue Stocking women collaborated with Johnson by writing articles for his Rambler. Some of these essays were about the morality of card playing. This periodical was a collection of essays on morals published between 1750 and 1752. The Rambler essays, along with other published works by Johnson, were found in Macartney’s library in 1786.18 If Johnson, as we will see a bit later, referred to Macartney as a literary man then it stands to reason

15 Hevia refers to Johnson’s problematic oriental perspective: Ibid, 85, 106-107. The founding members of the Literary Club referred to it simply as the Club. 16 Ibid, 63 fn10. 17 Macartney was governor of Grenada from 1776 and until his capture by Admiral D’Estaing on July 3, 1779. Macartney was taken back to France as a prisoner-of-war, whereupon he was subsequently paroled and returned to England by the fall. Macartney’s time as a Member of Parliament was short-lived as he was selected to be governor of Madras in India (1781-1786). 18 George Macartney. Catalogue of the Books of the Right Honble. Lord Macartney., 1786. Cornell University Kroch Library Rare & Manuscripts.

45 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 that, within a focused epistemological link, Macartney may have garnered some moral truth from the essays.19 Macartney’s own personal library, inventoried in 1786, had editions of The Rambler and other works by Johnson.20 Letters written during 1779 and 1780 connect Blue Stocking women with both Macartney and Johnson. Letters between Johnson and Blue Stocking member, Mrs. Hester Thrale, mentioned social gatherings at the London residences of Mrs. Elizabeth Vesey, another Blue Stocking, and Lady Elizabeth Craven, who was shunned by the Blue Stockings due to her divorce and remarriage.21 Memoirs, not only from these women but also men who took part in social events, will corroborate statements made in the letters. A few Eighteenth Century newspaper articles will provide testament to the origins of the Blue Stockings and literary context to Johnson’s Rambler. Before getting to a discussion on when Macartney met Johnson and other members of the Club, first let us unpack statements made by Hevia about what the Literary Club was. —What was the Literary Club?— Hevia’s description of the Club came from his supporting secondary source, Esto Perpetua (translated “let it be perpetual”). Within this text, club members were portrayed as prominent English gentlemen consolidated into a group defined as the “intellectual aristocracy.” Hevia listed them in the following masculinized way: “The Club was founded in 1764 by the noted portraitist Sir Joshua Reynolds, court painter to George III and first president of the Royal Academy. Its original membership included Samuel Johnson, who, among his many other talents, was the guiding intellectual force behind... The Gentleman's Magazine; political philosopher Edmund Burke; and bibliophile Topham Beauclerk. By the time of Macartney's election, the club membership had grown to include orientalist Sir William Jones, naturalist and president of the Royal Society Sir Joseph Banks, actor David Garrick, historian Edward Gibbon, political economist Adam Smith, politician Charles Fox, [and] James Boswell...” The Club facilitated “manly conversation” based on the Enlightenment ideal of reason and seeking truth by means of the exchange of ideas. According to Hevia, ''these principles of truth production also helped to explain Macartney's election to the Club” because other members lacked the experience of a “seasoned diplomat.” For Hevia, this list provided a concise identification of the Club as “spatially gendered” within his public

19 Samuel Johnson, The Letters of Samuel Johnson / 1777-1781, ed. Bruce Redford, vol. III, The Hyde Edition (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univ. Pr., 1992). 213. 20 George Macartney. Catalogue of the Books of the Right Honble. Lord Macartney., 1786. Cornell University Kroch Library Rare & Manuscripts. 21 Julia Gasper, Elizabeth Craven: Writer, Feminist and European (Wilmington, DE: Vernon Press, 2017). 40.

46 The Springs Graduate History Journal sphere model. Ironically, Hevia’s readily available listing of the members of the Club as an "intellectual aristocracy” was similar to the narrative of the secondary source he used. Hevia utilized one published work to connect the members of the Club to Macartney. Esto Perpetua. published as two combined short essays written by L.P. Curtis and Herman Liebert in 1962, provided a similar list of the members of the Club. In his essay entitled “Intellectual Aristocracy in Eighteenth-Century England,'' Curtis stated that actually ''there [was] no need here to recall that The Club was founded by Sir Joshua in 1764.” Curtis continued anyways: “Who more eminent in lexicography, literary criticism and good talk than Johnson, or in historical writing than Gibbon, in painting than Reynolds, in poetry than Goldsmith, in the writing of comedies than Sheridan, in political economy than Adam Smith, in acting than [David] Garrick, in parliamentary debate than... Charles Fox, in political philosophy than Burke, and in biography than Boswell?” Liebert continued in a similar list in the subsequent essay, Johnson’s Club, stating how “the Club, is, I think, the most extraordinary phenomenon among all the clubs that have ever been” and that “[i]t began with eight members.” Curtis would provide a bibliography for his essay; whereas, Liebert simply stated that his anecdotes on the members of the Club were already presented by Mr. Curtis. Curtis and Liebert’s colorful details for the Club were, in most respects, anecdotal. The purpose of the essays was not driven towards any critical analysis within historical research. Rather, Esto Perpetua was merely the publishing of two talks given by Curtis and Liebert in 1959 at the Grolier Club in NYC. An exhibition had taken place celebrating the 250th anniversary of Johnson's birth. The exhibition consisted of rare books and manuscripts related to members of the Club. Most of the collection came from the Beinecke Collection at Yale, where Liebert was its archivist and Curtis taught history. The all-male anecdotal descriptions of the Club, epitomized as the intellectual aristocracy, can be historically linked to sources published in the first half of the Twentieth Century. Annals of the Club (1914) and Anecdotes of the Literary Club (1948) detailed past members of the Club. The origins of these published works adhered to the Club’s motto, Esto Perpetua, as their purpose was geared towards maintaining continuity in its membership and, of course, conversation. Annals was published by members that constituted the Club just prior to World War 1. Anecdotes was an expansion of C.A. Miller’s 1947 talk that he conducted in front of the Boswell Club in Chicago. In both cases, the root of these sources was directed towards continued membership of men and legitimizing that exclusivity with the original nine members of the Club in 1764. The initial crux of this legitimacy was the late Eighteenth Century biographical behemoth that was James Boswell's Life of Samuel Johnson. Published originally in

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1791, Boswell’s work would elevate Johnson to legendary status by meticulously recollecting other member's anecdotes and euphemisms about Johnson. Life was not necessarily an accurate account of Johnson as it was more about his character. Johnson left an important legacy in Eighteenth Century English literature as seen by the enormous published works such as A Dictionary of the English Language (1755), Rasselas (1759), and the aforementioned Gentleman's Magazine (1737). On the other hand, Boswell embellished Johnson's legacy in order to support the encompassing contemporary narrative of bourgeois society in England; a consistent ideological perspective that subordinated any contribution of women at that time. The near symbiotic relationship between the Blue Stockings and Johnson, as seen in essays submitted to The Rambler by two members, contradicts this narrative. An intellectual reciprocity took place between the founders of the Blue Stockings and Johnson. Hester Mulso Chapone, along with Johnson, co-wrote a critique about how card-playing during social events diminished quality conversation. For Chapone and other women, such as founding member Elizabeth Montagu, the essay became a call-for-action in taking direct steps to stop card-playing. Hence, the start of the Blue Stockings was derived from this concern. For Johnson, the concern was more in line with the moral sentiment which his Rambler propagated. Also, the corrective actions by the Blue Stockings at social events through 1780 provided a platform for Johnson to speak on morality. — The Rambler and Origin of the Blue Stockings— Mrs. Chapone co-wrote Essay No. 10 with Johnson for the September 21, 1750 edition of The Rambler. The 1750s would be the most prolific for Johnson and his writings on morality. The Rambler, the first of a series of periodical essays, would run until 1752. Johnson would publish two other periodical essays, the Adventurer (1753- 54) and the Idler (1758-60). He also, as previously mentioned, published his Dictionary and Rasselas. Because Johnson was spending most of his time on researching for the Dictionary, the moral essays were composed within a short amount of time. This hastiness, according to Walter Jackson Bate, transcended both the genre of periodical essays and moral philosophy. Bate described Johnson's prose as more attuned to classic moral scribes and not of daily vernacular. This direction in narrative style in The Rambler kept Johnson's satirical tendencies at bay. Chapone took up matters of matrimonial conduct with her Letters on Filial Obedience (1750-51) and A Matrimonial Creed (1751). Her writings at this time represented the attitude of English “upper and middling classes [who] began to see marriage as a matter of emotion as well as duty and socioeconomic necessity.” Chapone may be considered the “female intellectual moralist” of the Eighteenth Century, whose writing argued for freedom to choose whom to marry “while advertising her 'modesty' and 'innocent affections.’” This early modem feminist mindset is what drew her to Johnson and The Rambler.

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Johnson would acknowledge, in a rather braggadocious manner, a “number of correspondents which [i]ncreases every day upon me, shews that my paper is at least distinguished from the common productions of the press.” He completed his remarks with an introduction to Chapone: “I shall now publish some letters... from ladies, whom I sincerely believe as young, as rich, as gay, as fashionable, and as often toasted and treated as herself.” Though his remarks immediately preceded Chapone's, Johnson's words reflected the ethical relevance to which he allowed others to contribute to his moral periodical. Fellow Blue Stockings member Elizabeth Carter wrote two essays (No. 44 and No. 100) for The Rambler. In Essay No. 44, Carter continued the rational exchange of ideas, emulating the Hevia-Habermas model, by writing about society as the true sphere of human virtue. As a prelude to the founding of the Blue Stockings, Carter defended social conversation as a prudent means to overcome the stigma that any pursuit of leisure was immoral. In other words there was the “Superstition” that, though not exactly her words, misery loves company. Carter responded in her essay as recalling a dream where an evil specter attempted to deceive her, saying: “Methought[sic] I was in the midst of a very entertaining set of company, and extremely delighted in attending to a lively conversation.” She was interrupted by the “night-raven” and eventually led away. The evil being then told her, “O rash unthinking mortal... learn that pleasure was not designed the portion of human life. Man was born to mourn and to be wretched: this is the condition of all below the stars... Fly then from the fatal enchantments of youth and social delight... Misery is the duty of all sublunary beings. and every enjoyment is an offence to the deity, who is to be worshipped only by the mortification of every sense of pleasure...” At the last moment, an angelic being swooped in saving Carter from her own languishing. The being told her that she had been deceived and that instead “the true enjoyments of a reasonable being... do not consist in the unbounded indulgence.” Man must exercise diligently his superior powers, express “good-will to his fellow creatures,” and “invigorate his nobler pursuits.” Chapone's statements continued to defend the moral philosophy of Carter and subsequently the main purpose of the Blue Stockings. Immediately after Johnson's opening statement in No. 10, Chapone complimented Johnson and his readers of The Rambler by acknowledging the merit of a work “that may be of some publick benefit.” Chapone requested the attention of the readers to her concerns about their own (and by default, Johnson's) social and moral well-being. Chapone, under the guise of "Lady Racket,” extended an invitation that “she shall have cards at her house, every Sunday, the remainder of the season” in order to light “the torch of truth produced” by a social gathering. Johnson was appreciative of the invitation and respected the analogy Chapone placed the request within the “torch of truth.” But Johnson placed his dislike of cards as

49 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 more a moral constraint than his lack of skills in card playing. For Johnson, his participation at residences where card playing took place was a “visit lost.” Card playing created an environment of anonymity and “solicitude.” Within more ethical concerns for Johnson though, “... cards have changed before it into a thousand spectres of sickness, misery, and vexation.” The Rambler, considering their overall readership, advised Chapone to be more practical in her approach and “shun such dangerous experiments [and] satisfy herself with common appearances.” From this statement the call out was made to begin taking deliberate steps to improve conversation as a moral medium. Ethel Wheeler stated quite succinctly, in Famous Blue-stockings (1910), that Dr. Johnson and Mrs. Chapone “helped to form public opinion,” which the ladies of the Blue Stockings reacted through “passive resistance” and refused to allow card-playing at social gatherings. Wheeler placed social contestations within the Hevia-Habermas model; rational exchange produced reciprocal advantage. — The Blue Stockings – To reiterate, the details from letters from and about the Blue Stockings are included to shine light on the potential of British women as moral agents actively engaged in facilitating and manipulating the space of conversation for Johnson. In turn, that agency influenced Macartney’s view of the Chinese emperor’s gift embodying that moral agency. The correspondence below shows that the Blue Stockings actively engaged in molding the physical space in order to create an informal, interactive environment. A positive manipulation honed a more efficient, moral exchange much akin to Hevia's term of cultural production. Additionally, Johnson's letters placed Macartney within the conversation. The Worcester Journal, in a column published on January 21, 1808, inquisitively referred to the origins of the Blue Stockings. The newspaper derived the information from the recently published Memoirs of Mrs. Carter: Mrs. Montagu used to have parties of literary persons at her house... [T]o these parties it was not difficult for any person of character to be introduced. There was no ceremony, no cards, and no supper. Even dress was so little regarded that a foreign gentleman... was told in jest that... he might appear there, if he pleased, in blue stockings. This he understood in the literal sense; and when he spoke of it in French, called it the Bas Blue [blue stocking] Meeting.22 The Blue Stockings were an informal group of well-educated bourgeois English women who, by the mid-Eighteenth Century, took specific steps to improve conversation during social events. According to a letter written by Sarah Scott in 1750, English bourgeois social affairs were becoming very dull due to card playing inhibiting

22 Worcester Journal, January 21, 1808, 5937th ed., http://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk. 4.

50 The Springs Graduate History Journal conversation: “I excuse myself from card-parties by saying I have a great dislike to sitting by a card-table, which no one can pretend is unreasonable.”23 Her next statement hints to the degree of agency that Eighteenth Century bourgeois women had within the public sphere. She stated that she “found nothing is so useful as asserting one's liberty in these ceremonious points.”24 Even more telling than the speculation of the Blue Stocking's origins, was how the Blue Stocking women negotiated propriety, i.e. notions of formality/informality, public/private space. General agreement points to Elizabeth Montagu as a primary founder. Mrs. Montagu was most prominent as she started in 1750 hosting breakfasts which, by 1757, had evolved to evening events.25 Montagu laid claim to the term Blue Stocking. Montagu commented, in a letter dated March 1757, on how a frequent guest, Mr. Stillingfleet, was “so much a man of pleasure, he has left off his old friends and his blue stockings [emphasis added].”26 Montagu was inferring to the flighty but personable nature of Benjamin Stillingfleet's social life where one moment he attended an informal gathering wearing his blue stockings and, on other nights, removed them to attend more formal events such as “operas and other gay assemblies.”27 Stillingfleet also attended gatherings hosted by Elizabeth Vesey. Several notable women were known for the establishment of the group, knew each other fondly, and equally participated with each other's social events. The discussion here though will focus on Elizabeth Vesey and Hester Thrale. The reason for focusing on Vesey and Thrale is twofold: 1) Johnson corresponded with Thrale and partook in Vesey's social gatherings where Macartney was invited also; and 2) Vesey took specific steps in manipulating the physical space to enhance conversation. Thrale befriended Montagu and Vesey, and was a longtime friend of Samuel Johnson. Johnson wrote to Thrale on Thursday, November 11, 1779. In that letter he remembered his dinner engagement at Agmondesham Vesey’s home.28 Johnson referred to Macartney: “Yesterday I dined at Mr. Vesey's... In the evening there was Lord Macartney who has been taken by D'Estaigne in America, and stripped by him almost naked... He is here now upon parole. He seems in some degree a literary Man.”29 Macartney had been, since 1776, governor-general of Grenada. In July 1779, a French fleet commanded by Admiral D'Estaign attacked and captured Macartney as a prisoner- of-war. News of Macartney’s capture and release reached Britain by the time Johnson

23 Dr. [John] Doran, F.S.A., A Lady of the Last Century (Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu): Illustrated in Her Unpublished Letters, Collected and Arranged, with a Biographical Sketch, and Chapter on Blue Stockings (London: Richard Bently and Son, 1873)., https://archive.org. 266-267. 24 Ibid, 267. 25 Ibid, 270. 26 Doran, a lady of the last century, 270. 27 Ibid, 270. 28 Mrs. Vesey's husband, Agmondesham, was also a member of the Club. 29 Samuel Johnson, The Letters of Samuel Johnson /1777-1781, ed. Bruce Redford, vol. Ill, The Hyde Edition (Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univ. Pr., 1992). 213.

51 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 wrote the letter.30 To add further evidence that he was familiar with Macartney, Johnson may have previously read Macartney's A Political Account of Ireland (1773).31 Johnson's mentioning of Macartney's literary prowess is important to point out here. Not only did the gentlemen socialize inside the physical space changed by Mrs. Vesey, textual narratives also were an important trait occurring simultaneously with verbal narratives. Though Habermas had described bourgeois society as the “men of letters,” there is clear evidence here, as the letter above showed, that both men and women were persons of letters. Private letters were also published. A considerable amount of correspondence occurred between Thrale and Johnson for a number of years. Thrale herself would publish memoirs of Johnson after his death in 1784.32 Though Vesey did not publish, her impact was felt more within the manner in which she hosted social events.33 A discussion of Mrs. Vesey's influence is where we turn now. — Mrs. Vesey’s Approach as Blue Stocking— A letter written by Bennet Langton to James Boswell in May 1780 described a social gathering hosted by Mrs. Vesey where Johnson, Macartney, and other distinguished women participated. Langton described how the group had gathered around Johnson when he spoke. After identifying, in very respectable terms, the ladies and gentlemen in attendance (including Club founder Reynolds), Langton stated that “[a]s soon as Dr. Johnson was come in and had taken a Chair, the Company began to collect round him till they became not less than four; if not five deep; those behind standing, and listening over the heads of those that were sitting near him.”34 Langton, a fellow Club member, wrote this letter to Boswell as a testimonial to Johnson's character: “You would have been highly entertained as it exhibited an Instance of the high importance in which Dr. Johnson's Character is held.”35 Though Langton's prose is focused solely on Johnson, Mrs. Vesey's contribution can still be gleaned from the text. The clue of Vesey's input was seen in how Langton described the manner of talk that the group was in. The conversation “was chiefly between Dr. Johnson and the Provost of Eaton while the others contributed occasionally their Remarks.”36 The ability of the rest of the group to engage in conversation with Johnson and the Provost was due

30 Letters by the commander of the British fleet had reached British newspapers by September 1779: John Byron, "From the London Gazette... Copy of a Letter from the Honourable Vice-Admiral Byron to Mr. Stephens, Dated Princess Royal at Sea, the 8th of July, 1779," Cumberland Pacquet, and Ware's Whitehaven Advertiser, September 21, 1779, 5th ed., http://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk. 31 Samuel Johnson, The Letters of Samuel Johnson/1777-1781, vol. III. 213 fn.4. 32 Ethel Rolt. Wheeler, Famous Blue-stockings (New York: John Lane Company, 1910), https://play.google.com. 139. 33 Wheeler, Famous Blue-stockings. 158. 34 James Boswell, The Correspondence and Other Papers of James Boswell Relating to the Making of the Life of Johnson, ed. Marshall Waingrow (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969). 104-105.. 35 Ibid, 104. 36 Ibid, 105.

52 The Springs Graduate History Journal to the arrangement Vesey placed the group around the two. The tactic was a deliberate maneuver on the part of Vesey. In respect to sharing similar concerns with Montagu of preventing card games from interrupting opportunities of conversation, the two had very distinct ideas on how to go about doing that. Both differed vastly in how to assemble the group. As Montagu upheld the “Method of the Circle,” Vesey held to disintegrating it.37 Montagu placed the group in a semi-circle with individuals seated according to rank on one side and those eminent in talent on the other.38 Such a positioning of seats, even within an informal gathering, was novel as most social events in Eighteenth Century London were conducted in a regular circle.39 But such innovation was not without its critics. One such person was none other than Macartney's sister-in-law, Lady Louisa Stuart.40 Stuart had mixed feelings about the semi-circle arrangement. Within a refreshing facetious way, Stuart told of how “[a] circle[,]... though the worst shape imaginable for easy familiar conversation[,] may be the best for a brilliant interchange of -I had nearly said snip-snap - of pointed sentences and happy repartees.”41 Stuart obviously was either bored or frustrated with the arrangement that Montagu prescribed to. Vesey's motivation to “square the circle’” was likely based on her derision of the slightest slack in conversation.42 Vesey had such a “fear of ceremony... that she insist[ed] upon everybody's sitting with back one to another; that is, the chairs [we]re drawn into little parties of three together, in a confused manner, all over the room.”43 Much of this motivation was based on her quirky personality (her nickname was Sylph- an imaginary spirit in the air) and her inability to hear very well.44 Her personality, on the other hand, fit well with the informal circumstances and many of the participants, hoping for an intriguing conversation, would empathize with her methods. William Pepys, who also was in attendance at Mr. Vesey's on Wednesday evening November 10, 1779, described Vesey: “with no advantage of appearance and manner, she possessed, with a reserve of good sense, that easy politeness that gained everyone [sic] in a moment, and had the almost magic art of putting all the company at their

37 Wheeler, Famous blue-stockings. 180. 38 Ibid, 181. Text taken from: Fanny Burney, Memoirs of Dr. Burney, Arranged from His Own Manuscripts, from Family Papers, and from Personal Recollections, vol. 2, 3 vols. (London: E. Moxon, 1832). 270. 39 Burney, Memoirs of Dr. Burney. 271. 40 In February 1768, Macartney married Lady Louisa's sister, Lady Jane Stuart. He had just returned from his first successful diplomatic post in Russia: John Barrow and George Macartney Macartney, Some Account of the Public Life, and a Selection from the Unpublished Writings, of the Earl of Macartney..., vol. 1, 2 vols. (London: Printed for T. Cadell and W. Davies in the Strand, 1807). 37. 41 Wheeler, Famous blue-stockings. 182. 42 Ibid, 184. 43 Ibid, 185. 44 Ibid, 57, 184.

53 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 ease.”45 Though Pepys placed Vesey in rather fantastical terms, his statements is a testament to the unified steps upon which Vesey embarked upon to mesh her own personal sensibilities with active manipulation of the space. To recognize the contribution of Montagu and Vesey properly, the perspective should first be placed within their own personal and intellectual pursuits. The outlook should not be solely placed within the view that they overcame constraints placed upon them as women in Eighteenth Century England. Though there were gender constraints which they had to overcome, their ability to do so was more advantageous due to wealth and their conformity to propriety. The best way to distinguish that is to discuss Lady Craven as a means to contrast motivations of the Blue Stockings. — Lady Craven— Lady Craven was very different from the Blue Stockings in both how she lived a carefree life and how she could care very little about how they perceived her as improper. Due to improprieties mostly involving an unfaithful husband, Elizabeth Craven was considered an outsider. Several years after marrying Lord Craven at sixteen years of age and having seven children, Macartney caught Mrs. Craven's husband one day with another woman out in public.46 Elizabeth had been suspicious of William Craven's infidelity for some time.47 Macartney, by the time of this unfortunate revelation, had become a true confidant. Lady Craven more than likely would have met Macartney through her cousin Charles Fox, a member of the Club.48 Craven was an educated bourgeois lady but was somewhat eccentric in her choice of persons with whom she invited to dinner.49 This eccentricity ostracized her from the mainstream social circles, most particularly the Blue Stockings. Craven did attempt to make acquaintances with Mrs. Montagu earlier on but to no avail. The reason that kept her away from the Blue Stockings was not because of her sociability, but that her choice of friends violated Montagu's sense of morality.50 Lady Craven's cosmopolitan sensibility and egalitarian attitude towards others were enough to create an atmosphere of amicable conversation. Macartney, along with

45 William Weller Pepys and Alice C. C. Gaussen, A Later Pepys: The Correspondence of Sir William Weller Pepys, Bart., Master in Chancery 1758-1825, vol. 1, 2 vols. (London: John Lane The Bodley Head, 1904). 52. 46 Elizabeth Craven, Alexander Meyrick Broadley, and Lewis Melville, The Beautiful Lady Craven (London: J. Lane the Bodley Head, 1914), vol. 1. 2 vols., https:play.google.com. 43. 47 Ibid, 42. 48 Macartney may have first met Charles Fox early on through his brother Stephen Fox. Stephen helped Macartney gain his first diplomatic post in Russia in 1764: Helen Henrietta. Robbins and George Macartney, Our First Ambassador to China: An Account of the Life of George, Earl of Macartney (London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1908). 11. Gasper, Elizabeth Craven, 23. 49 Gasper, Elizabeth Craven, 40. 50 Ibid, 41.

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Johnson and other members of the Club, enjoyed her intellectual proclivities.51 Johnson wrote to Mrs. Thrale on April 18, 1780 stating that even though he was dizzy from being on an “alternate diet,” he was still "going to dine with Lady Craven.”52 Boswell remarked in Life that Johnson “dined one day with beautiful, gay, and fascinating Lady Craven.”53 To his footnote he added: “Lord Macartney... told me that he met Johnson at Lady Craven's, and that he seem jealous of any interference: ‘So (said his Lordship, smiling,) I kept back.’”54 In fact, Johnson and other members of the Club would frequently socialize with Craven in London.55 Johnson also made frequent visits to check in on her oldest son's tutoring (for which he recommended to her).56 Lord Macartney also was often at Lady Craven's house.57 Craven developed a friendly relationship with Macartney based on trust, as the incident Macartney witnessed with Lord Craven can be attributed. Craven provided other glimpses of the closeness of this relationship. Craven’s friendship to Macartney was interwoven with Johnson’s acquaintance. Macartney would tease her by threatening to tell Johnson that she wrote poetry.58 Craven and Macartney knew that Johnson, who had recently published his first edition of Lives of the Poets in 1779, was one of the most acerbic literary critics of his day. Another literary conversation came about after the unfortunate death of fellow Club member and theater actor, David Garrick. Garrick's death in 1779 had a lasting impact on the members of the Club.59 Macartney broached the topic with Craven as to whether Johnson was going to allow another bookseller, Thomas Davies, to write on the life of Garrick. Johnson relayed the answer in the affirmative by stating that the “bookseller is quite equal to the task.”60 Lady Craven, reflecting the important contribution of Garrick to the English theater and his vast personable skills, took exception and stated that Johnson should write the biography himself.61 Craven voiced her opinion against Johnson. She was clearly capable, as symbolized in her intellectual interactions, in expressing her own thoughts. Prior to completing the key analysis of the women involved with Macartney and Johnson, important conclusions should be made related reciprocally to both women within the Hevia-Habermas model. Foremost, the intent was to shine light on the

51 Gasper, Elizabeth Craven. 35-36. 52 Samuel Johnson and George Birkbeck Norman Hill, Letters of Samuel Johnson, LL D, vol. 2, 2 vols. (New York: Harper & Bros., 1892). 143. 53 Boswell and Tinker, Boswell's Life of Johnson. 15. 54 Ibid, fn2. 55 Craven, Broadley, and Melville, the Beautiful Lady Craven, vol. 1. 38 56 Craven, Broadley, and Melville, the Beautiful Lady Craven, vol. 2. 113. 57 Ibid, 114. 58 Ibid, 114. 59 Boswell and Tinker, Be/swell's Life of Johnson, i, 280. 60 Ibid, 115. 61 Garrick was once a young student of Johnson during the failed attempt by Johnson in 1735 to earn a living as a teacher. Walter Jackson Bate, Samuel Johnson (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1977). 154.

55 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 motivations of the Blue Stockings' direct changing of the physical environment and Lady Craven's intellectual interactions as symbolizing cultural productions within English bourgeois society. A reasonable assumption is made that women initiated a methodical interaction with these men on a literary and intellectual level without any immediate male forbearance on those interactions, but that the men mutually engaged within anyways. To be clear, the intent here is not to imply that on a broad societal level the gender relationship in late Eighteenth Century England was equitable. Julia Gasper stated that Craven represented an Eighteenth Century feminist who “believed women... ought to be emancipated from enforced marriage, treated as equal by their husbands, enabled to earn their own living... and entitled to far better education...”62 This statement provides a catalyst in maintaining that women were primary agents in their own lives and now, factoring that in, we can step off to where we can examine the subject matter of Johnson's conversation. — What Johnson Discussed— Lord Macartney was impacted by the virtuous actions on the part of the Blue Stockings’ deliberate manipulation of the social space to facilitate Johnson’s moral conversations and Lady Craven’s moral fortitude. In addition, the British diplomat’s view of the gifts as an act of virtue was guided by listening in on Johnson’s own words. Surprisingly, Craven provided more insight into Johnson's stance on morals. Craven described Johnson as rather outspoken. When she told in her memoirs about how Macartney would tease her, her preamble was that “the great fault which I found with Johnson was the inveterate blame and contempt that he threw on all contemporary writers.”63 Her concern over Johnson stemmed from the impertinent moral high ground in which he took and was constantly reinforced by those who heard him. Craven knew that Johnson ate a lot and suffered incontinence: Johnson was bilious, and had the spleen; for the long silence he often observed, alike with the wise or foolish, was sometimes broken by him in a manner unsought for; as it was kept by him often in spite of all the endeavours of the wise or witty to break it. But when he did speak, what language he uttered, with what energy he defended virtue, with what comic satire he held up folly or vice!64 Johnson spoke of virtue because, for Craven, he had “step[ped] forth into the world in the character of a moralist.”65 Beside the gastronomic weaknesses of Johnson that added an air of spectacle to his speech, the content of what he spoke was most remembered. Another comment from Pepys, the one who was in attendance at Vesey's

62 Gasper, Elizabeth Craven, xxv. 63 Craven, Broadley, and Melville, the Beautiful Lady Craven, vol. 2.114. 64 Ibid, 114. 65 Ibid, 115.

56 The Springs Graduate History Journal residence on May 1780, positioned Johnson's conversation within an ethical configuration. Pepys recalled how “they talked or were silent, sat or walked about, just as they pleased, while Johnson in one corner might be holding forth on the moral duties.”66 The group's consensus was, for the most part, that Johnson was a great speaker and he spoke eloquently of morality. Mrs. Thrale summed up the overall opinion of him when she said that “his discourse generally ended in an ethical dissertation.”67 One ideal that Craven mentioned was virtue. Harkening back to Gasper's words describing the uniqueness of Craven and Eighteenth Century feminism, virtue was purposely extended beyond the confines of a faithful wife and mother. The Blue Stockings kept within the conservative values of the time, as evidenced by their own sense of propriety that they acted upon by pushing Craven out of the inner circles of the organization.68 But in defense of the Blue Stockings, Craven still held strongly to contemporary notions of motherhood and raising her children as an important part of her life. Much of Craven's attitude stemmed from her personal struggles: a negligent mother, who focused more on the eldest daughter, and an unfaithful husband, who spent most of his time playing the horses.69 Secondly, Craven shared a common virtuous trait with the Blue Stockings in their dedicated service to caring for the London poor.70 Public works was an important concept introduced to the overarching ideal of virtue played out within the Hevia-Habermas model. For Eighteenth Century bourgeois women, public works meant tangible activities such as charity. Public works also were mediated within the socio-political arena. Though some discussion by women of current political events occurred, men still dominated the political realm.71 The public sphere was self-defined by men within the political field. Johnson greatly influenced the morality of that self-defining. Johnson espoused the value that virtuous men should take part within the public sphere. In other words, involvement in the public sphere was an act of virtue. A man of virtue was a man of moral character. This hypothesis, that the defining of the public sphere consisted of moral men, is still drawn from the Hevia-Habermas model. This argument goes further by extending past the model and contemplating the bourgeois public sphere as a moral entity. Johnson provided this moral framework of the public sphere through his writing and verbalizations of the moral principle in the company of men and women willing to listen. To defend Johnson's character, Boswell connected his Life of Johnson to Johnson's Rambler essays. Boswell established continuity in ensuring

66 Pepys and Gaussen, A Later Pepys. 52. 67 Wheeler, Famous blue-stockings. 215. 68 Gasper, Elizabeth Craven, 41. 69 Ibid, 36. 70 Wheeler, Famous blue-stockings. 6. Active in charity: Ibid, 326. 71 "...much political sparring occasionally took place...”: Pepys and Gaussen, A Later Pepys, vol. 1, 2 vols. (London: John Lane The Bodley Head, 1904). 46.

57 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 posterity of this hypothesis. The hypothesis, where we come full circle back to Hevia's outlook on Macartney, stipulates that the Embassy's presents to the emperor was a cultural production by means of the extension of the public sphere as a moral imperative. — Moral character— A path between Johnson's morality of the public sphere and Macartney's endowment of the emperor's presents with British national character can be seen with Johnson's published works inventoried in Macartney's library in 1786. Within the inventory belonging to Johnson were issues of The Rambler and Political Tracts.72 Boswell’s Life, upon which Macartney also had a copy of, attached Johnson’s development of moral truths to these previous works.73 British newspapers in the 1770s through early 1780s also connected the moral statements of Johnson to these published works. A newspaper advertisement in 1781 accorded Johnson’s moral “Maxims and Observations” to The Rambler.74 An editorial in 1770 was critical of Johnson's moral grandstanding in “The False Alarm,” an essay from Political Tracts.75 The writer of the editorial attacked Johnson's moral position on a political issue by asking rhetorically: “Are these the useful Lessons of Morality, are these the candid Disquisitions of Truth and Justice, held forth to our View and Practice in the Rambler?”76 Individuals writing to the newspapers were aware of the source of Johnson’s morality. Not only would have Macartney known of Johnson's position on morality through the newspapers, his knowledge was based also on a personal connection to Johnson greatly enhanced by Vesey and Craven. —Conclusion— The goal was to argue for an alternative of the Hevia-Habermas model, besides the Literary Club, whereupon Macartney interacted and was influenced towards a certain ideological outlook on the presents for the Chinese emperor. The discussion focused on women instead of men in order to break the overtly masculine narrative defining modernity. Women sell-defined the bourgeois public sphere through intentional manipulation of the physical space to start a moral debate. This debate was mutually beneficial. This benefit is a testament to Hevia’s theory of cultural productions in the public sphere.

72 George Macartney. Catalogue of the Books of the Right Honble. Lord Macartney., 1786. Cornell University Kroch Library Rare & Manuscripts. 73 Lord Macartney and J. L. Cranmer-Byng, An embassy to China. 19. Political Tracts: Boswell and Tinker. Boswell's Life of Johnson. I, 562. Rambler: Ibid, 163. 74 "The Beauties of Johnson [Advertisement]," St. James's Chronicle or the British Evening Post (London), December 6,1781, 3238th ed., accessed April 1, 2018, find.galegroup.com.colorado.idm.oclc.org. 75 "For the Public Advertiser, To Dr. Samuel Johnson, Oxford, Feb. 21," Public Advertiser (London), February 27,1770, 11013th ed., accessed April 1, 2018, find.galegroup.com.colorado.idm.oclc.org. 76 Ibid.

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Elizabeth Vesey's active role in shaping the physical space provides a more grounded viewpoint, both spatially and temporally, of both Johnson and Macartney within British public sphere. Social exchanges can now be effectively placed within Hevia’s definition of “cultural productions.” Blue Stocking events were a more dynamic example of the public sphere than the Club meetings. If we place narrowly the motivations and influences of individuals, as seen in Curtis and Liebert’s patriarchal narrative in Esto Perpetua, then we confine ourselves to their ideological view. This hindrance further clouds any potential of agency for women at that time, though still subordinate within the context of Eighteenth Century British society. Women also took part in the public sphere, were engaged in conversation, and received correspondence. They were women of letters. Though Hevia overlooked the potential to add further insight in explaining the British public sphere, the solution can be found in that both men and women in Eighteenth Century England self-defined the public sphere. In historical terms, men and women self-defined the public sphere within different areas. Current theoretical scholarship does not presently project that more dynamic element. Women of the Blue Stockings were active historical agents in expanding their influence beyond the traditional constraints of the home by manipulating the private, familial interior to be part of the public. Macartney was directly influenced by this novel approach of public self-definition by the Blue Stockings.

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—References— Barrow, John, and George Macartney Macartney. Some Account of the Public Life, and a Selection from the Unpublished Writings, of the Earl of Macartney ; the Latter Consisting of Extracts from an Account of the Russian Empire: A Sketch of the Political History of Ireland: And a Journal of an Embassy from the King of Great Britain to the Emperor of China: With an Appendix to Each Volume. Vol. 1. 2 vols. London: Printed for T. Cadell and W. Davies in the Strand. 1807.

Boswell, James. The Correspondence and Other Papers of James Boswell Relating to the Making of the Life of Johnson. Edited by Marshall Waingrow. New York: McGraw-Hill, 1969.

Burke, Bernard. A Genealogical and Heraldic History of the Landed Gentry of Ireland. London: Harrison & Sons, 1912.. https://archive.org

Burney, Fanny. Memoirs of Dr. Burney, Arranged from His Own Manuscripts, from Family Papers, and from Personal Recollections. Vol. 2. 3 vols. London: E. Moxon, 1832.

Byron, John. “From the London Gazette... Copy of a Letter from the Honorable Vice- Admiral Byron to Mr. Stephens, Dated Princess Royal at Sea, the 8th of July, 1779. Cumberland Pacquet, and Ware's Whitehaven Advertiser, September 21, 1779, 5th ed. http://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk.

Craven, Elizabeth, Alexander Meyrick Broadley, and Lewis Melville. The Beautiful Lady Craven. London: J. Lane the Bodley Head, 1914. 2 vols.

Doran, Dr. [John], F.S.A. A Lady of the Last Century (Mrs. Elizabeth Montagu): Illustrated in Her Unpublished Letters, Collected and Arranged, with a Biographical Sketch, and Chapter on Blue Stockings. London: Richard Bently and Son, 1873. https://archive.org.

"For the Public Advertiser, To Dr. Samuel Johnson, Oxford, Feb. 21.” Public Advertiser (London), February 27, 1770, 11013th ed. Accessed April 1, 2018. find.galegroup.com. colorado.idm.oclc.org.

Johnson, Samuel. The Letters of Samuel Johnson/1777-1781. Edited by Bruce Redford. Vol. IIII. The Hyde Edition. Princeton, NJ: Princeton Univ. Pr., 1992.

Johnson, Samuel, and George Birkbeck Norman Hill. Letters of Samuel Johnson, LL. D. Vol. 2. 2 vols. New York: Harper & Bros., 1892.

Johnson, Samuel, and Walter Jackson. Bate. Selected Essays from the Rambler, Adventurer, and Idler. New Haven (Conn.): Yale University Press, 1968.

Johnson, Samuel, W. J. Bate, and Albrecht B. Strauss. The Yale Edition of the Works of Samuel Johnson, the Rambler. Vol. III. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1969.

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Macartney, George. “Catalogue of Presents for the Emperor of China, 2 Aug 1793”. Letter. London, 1793. India Office Records and Private Papers. British Library Archives & Manuscripts

Macartney, George Macartney. An embassy to China; being the journal kept by Lord Macartney during his embassy to the Emperor Ch'ien-lung, 1793-1794. Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1963.

Macartney, George Macartney. Catalogue of the Books of the Right Honble. Lord Macartney. 1786. Cornell University Kroch Library Rare & Manuscripts.

Pepys, William Weller, and Alice C. C. Gaussen. A Later Pepys: The Correspondence of Sir William Weller Pepys, Bart., Master in Chancery 1758-1825. Vol. 1. 2 vols. London: John Lane The Bodley Head, 1904.

Pritchard, Earl H. “The Instructions of the East India Company to Lord Macartney on His Embassy to China and His Reports to the Company, 1792-94. Part I: Instructions from the Company.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society of Great Britain & Ireland 70, no. 02 (1938): 201-30. doi:10.1017/s0035869x00087906.

Robbins, Helen Henrietta., and George Macartney. Our First Ambassador to China: An Account of the Life of George, Earl of Macartney. London: John Murray, Albemarle Street, 1908.

“The Beauties of Johnson [Advertisement].” St. James's Chronicle or the British Evening Post. (London), December 6, 1781, 3238th ed. Accessed April 1, 2018. fmd.galegroup.com. colorado.idm.oclc.org.

Worcester Journal, January 21, 1808, 5937th ed. http://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk.

Wheeler, Ethel Rolt. Famous Blue-stockings. New York: John Lane Company, 1910.

Secondary Sources Bate, Walter Jackson. Samuel Johnson. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1977. Boswell, James, Esq., and Chauncey Brewster Tinker. Boswell's Life of Johnson. London: Oxford Univ. Pr., 1934. Reprint of The Life of Samuel Johnson, LL.D. 3rd Edition 1799. Edited by Edmund Malone. Curtis, Lewis Perry, and Herman W. Liebert. Esto Perpetua: The Club of Dr. Johnson and His Friends, 1764-1784. Hamden, CT: Archon Books, 1963.

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E., Grant Duff Mountstuart. Annals of The Club, 1764-1915. London: Printed for the Club, 1914. Gasper, Julia. Elizabeth Craven: Writer, Feminist and European. Wilmington, DE: Vernon Press, 2017. Miller, C. A. Anecdotes of the Literary Club, “The Club” of Dr. Johnson and Boswell. New York: Exposition Press, 1948. ______An Evening with the Literary Club. Chicago: [s.n.], 1947. ______Samuel Johnson, LL. D. (1709-1784): An Exhibition of First Editions, Manuscripts, Letters, and Portraits to Commemorate the 250th Anniversary of His Birth, and the 200th Anniversary of the Publication of His Rasselas, September 22-November 28, 1959. New York: Pierpont Morgan Library, 1959. Thomason, Laura E. “Hester Chapone as a Living Clarissa in Letters on Filial Obedience and A Matrimonial Creed.” Eighteenth Century Fiction 21, no. 3 (2009): 323-43. doi:10.1353/ecf.0.0070.

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“We trace out all the veins of the earth”1 Iberian Mining, Labor, and the Industrial Foundation of the Roman Empire: An Interdisciplinary Approach Donald Unger Abstract: By combining the critical analysis of ancient literature with archaeology and modern atmospheric data, this paper explores the limitations of ancient source material treating the topic of mining in Roman Spain from the beginning of third century B.C. during the outbreak of the second major Punic War (c. 218-201 BC) until the end of the first-century CE. By evidencing that historical treatments by ancient authors writing on the topic of mining were sparse and devoid of detail, this paper argues that an interdisciplinary approach combining ancient with modern empirical data is a viable method which can and should be used to overcome ancient source limitations on the topic of mining. Ultimately, this study supports the empirically founded notion that, in the case of the Roman mining enterprise, a proto-industrial revolution occurred at about 100 B.C. in Spain that would not be rivaled in size and scope until the modern industrial revolution. —Introduction— When Hannibal crossed the Mediterranean for the first time in 235 BC at the age of nine, he travelled North with his father Hamilcar Barca to Spain.2 After shoring up his position in North Africa following a mercenary revolt and the loss of the strategic isle of Sicily in the first Punic War against the Romans, the most pressing order of business for Hannibal’s father was to secure his position in Southern Iberia so as to gain control of the peninsula's resources. The first Punic War had been a triumph for Rome and a disaster for Carthage, and the struggle for power in the Mediterranean was far from resolved. Hamilcar needed Spain for its resources, specifically metallurgic resources needed to produce the war debt now owed to Rome as a result of Carthage’s defeat. In his discussion of the causes of the second Punic War, Polybius writes that in the wake of defeat at Sicily, “[Hamilcar Barca] at once threw all his energies into the conquest of Spain with the object of using these resources to prepare for a war against Rome. The success of the Carthaginian enterprise in Spain must be regarded as the third cause of the [second Punic] war, for it was the assurance which they drew from this increase in their strength which enabled them to embark on the war with confidence.”3 This move,

1 Pliny. Historia. 4.3. 2 Polybius. Rise of the Roman Empire. (New York: Penguin Classics, 1980). 3.11 and 1.26. Polybius is apt to point out that Hamilcar Barca is a different person entirely than Hamilcar the Carthaginian General who replaced the famed Carthaginian General Hanno after the defeat of Agrigentum in Sicily around 262 BCE at the end of the 1st Punic War. While Polybius only mentions Hamilcar Barca twice—once in reference to Hannibal’s upbringing in Spain, and on the other occasion—Polybius characterizes Barca’s role in instilling hatred for Rome into Hannibal and his brothers at an early age due to the eindemnities forced upon Carthage following the defeat of the 1st Punic War. Hannibal’s brothers Magon and Hasdrubal were known for their exploits in the 2nd Punic War. 3 Ibid.

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thought Hamilcar, ensured Carthaginian dominance in the greater Mediterranean, especially in a period of rapid expansion for the Roman Empire.4

Figure 1 The areas in blue represent Carthage and its allies during the 2nd Punic War. The areas in red represent Rome and its allies. Made by Javier Fernandez-Vina of Florida International University in 2011. Accessed through Wikimedia Commons. Creative Commons—Attribution, Share Alike. Off the southern coast of Iberia, on the island of Gades (modern-day Cadiz, Spain) Hamilcar Barca quickly established Carthaginian dominance on the Iberian peninsula, securing his interests in the region in preparation for the upcoming contest with Rome.5 Here at Gades, he and young Hannibal lived for nearly a decade whilst working fervently to expand Carthage’s grasp on the Iberian mainland until Hamilcar’s untimely death c. 229.6 Even though Hamilcar would never live to see the second and third Punic engagements, Gades and greater Iberia were important to Hamilcar not only because of their geopolitical value in the Mediterranean, but also because they contained abundant metallurgical resources that he needed to sustain Carthaginian wealth and dominance in Iberia and abroad.7 Especially amidst the rise of Roman power in the Mediterranean, Hamilcar’s presence near the Iberian silver mines assuaged the massive

4 Henceforth, we will refer to modern-day Spain and Portugal as Iberia. See fig. 1 for a visual illustration of the region prior to Roman conquest. See Appian. The Foreign Wars. 1.3. “This fruitful land, abounding in all good things, the Carthaginians began to exploit before the Romans. A part of it they occupied and another part they plundered, until the Romans expelled them from the part they held, and immediately occupied it themselves 5 Stanley Arthur Cook, F. E. Adcock, and M. P. Charlesworth, eds., The Cambridge Ancient History. 218-133 B.C., vol. VIII (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1965), 115, 311, 323-25. 6 Ibid. 7 Polybius, Ian Scott-Kilvert, and F. W. Walbank, The Rise of the Roman Empire (London: Penguin, 2003).

64 The Springs Graduate History Journal war debt Carthage owed to Rome, while at the same time positioning the Carthaginians for the upcoming second and third Punic Wars (218-146 BC). As the second century Greek historian Appian recounted regarding the Carthaginian expectations of material gain from the territory: “The Carthaginians, enjoying the gains they had received from Spain, sent another army thither and appointed Hasdrubal, the son-in-law of Hamilcar [Barca], who was still in Spain, commander of all their forces there. He had with him in Spain Hannibal, the son of Hamilcar and brother of his own wife, a young man zealous in war, beloved by the army, and who soon after became famous for his military exploits.”8 Hamilcar’s understanding of the value of Iberian metallurgy as essential for sustained military dominance and societal wealth, would be a lesson young Hannibal soon learned as he struggled to maintain Carthaginian control over the Iberian peninsula against the onslaught of Roman encroachment during the second Punic War (218-201 BC).9 Even though Sicily would be the first strategic Roman province outside of Latium following Carthage’s defeat, in terms of Rome’s long-term dominance and sustained wealth in the Mediterranean, Iberia was much more valuable to Rome because of its metallurgic abundance.10 Using the limited ancient sources extant, this paper will examine the ancient writing on the enterprise of mining in Iberia from the first Punic War to the end of the Roman Republic.11 First, I will illustrate how aristocratic Roman discourse concerning mining has continued to influence our understanding of the value of the mining industry to the ancients, and second, I will present new empirical data which helps to reconcile shortcomings of the ancient literature on this topic.12 As we shall discuss, this topic has been distorted by reliance (almost exclusively) on Pliny the Elder to recreate events. The impact of this unchecked reliance on Pliny has been the silencing of the history of the impact of the enterprise in Iberia and the perpetuation of a bias against the labor-class and the mining enterprise in the region. This will help to shed light on a subject which, as we shall discuss, has been distorted by reliance (almost exclusively) on Pliny the Elder to recreate events. The impact of this unchecked reliance on Pliny has been the silencing of the history of the impact of the enterprise in Iberia and the perpetuation of a bias towards the labor-class and the mining enterprise in the region.

8 Appian. Foreign Wars: 2.6 9 The History of Rome, p. 137-81 10 Shepherd, Robert. Ancient Mining. London: Elsevier Applied Science for the Institution of Mining & Metallurgy. (U.K: Cambridge Univ. Pr.: 1993). 11 The Punic Wars occurred in three major phases from 264 B.C. to 146 B.C. and ultimately led to the sack of Carthage and the rise of Rome as hegemon in Mediterranean for the next six centuries.

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In conclusion, I will discuss the effect the industry must have had on the people and the environment while ultimately refuting the notion that mining was an ancillary enterprise that had little effect on the people or the environment at this time. I believe this ground-level approach, which Marie Grace Brown very effectively expressed as paying “attention to that which is closest in gives new shape to large, familiar stories,” is critical in understanding the impact of mining on society in Iberia.13 Borrowing from Brown for this analysis, I preface this argument by stating that, while considering the archaeological evidence from this time and space is critical to understanding what occurred at mining sites throughout the region during this Roman occupation, it is certainly not the only source of reliable information on the topic.14 In addition, using numismatic research, atmospheric data, and literary evidence, I will also look at the structure of the Roman mining enterprise over the course of its rise and fall from 200 BC until roughly 500 CE.15 In sum, analysis of ancient source material with empirical evidence in this manner has implications which reveal the need for new interdisciplinary historiographic methods concerning this subject, especially with the considerable empirical data now available.16 In addition to the approach I advocate, I contend that contrary to what our ancient sources alone reveal “or dismiss” both Carthaginian and Roman mining enterprises were widely perceived by rulers as necessary for the sustained vitality of the metropole because the industry was so necessary for these empires to sustain themselves.17 As I shall discuss, the evidence for such a claim lies in the conclusions gleaned from modern empirical research discussed below in section IV. I posit that this empirical evidence supports the notion that the mining industry was so widespread that anyone living in Iberia would have come to this conclusion logically, based on the sheer size of the mining enterprise in the territory and the effects this must have had on one’s daily life due to various types of exposure to the mines and smelting facilities. Furthermore, at least during the republic, it is plausible to assume a successful mining enterprise was the primary agent of military dominance in Iberia. Mining was

13 Forster, Michael N., and Kristin Gjesdal, eds. The Cambridge Companion to Hermeneutics. Cambridge Companions to Philosophy. (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Pr., 2018.). For a contemporary use of hermeneutics, see Brown, Marie Grace. Khartoum at Night: Fashion and Body Politics in Imperial Sudan. (Redwood City, CA: Stanford University Press, 2017), 6. 14 According to Shepherd (1993), it is apparent from archeological surveys that Iberia was just one of many regions mined as far back as pre-historic times for silex (stone), lead, silver, and copper during the enolithic era sometime in the 4th millennium BC. Also see Marín and Antonio, et al. (2013), and Friedman (2013) for more archeologically based studies.. 15 See Ørsted (2001), Marin and Antonio, et al (2013), and Tisseyre (2008) for some recent studies in interdisciplinary historical analysis utilizing numismatics and archeology. 16 While Tisseyre and Tussa et al (2001), Orsted (2001), Friedman (2017; 2013), Shepherd (1993; 1980), Marin and Antonio, et al (2013), Gowland (1920), and Rothenberg and Blanco-Frejeiro (1981) all utilize archeology, none surveyed thus far have used isotopic chemical analysis taken from ice and sediment core extraction studies as is suggested herein. 17 Pliny, Historia Naturalis, 4.3

66 The Springs Graduate History Journal not pragmatic realpolitik: for Rome and Carthage, it was preemptive policy: not only did elites like Hamilcar, his son Hannibal, and their Roman adversaries perceive the strategic value of Iberian mining, but so too did the common subject who worked and lived near the thousands of mines which dotted the landscape in Iberia.18 Just like our modern, industrial society, metal objects were extremely important in the ancient world, yet these very important details have been poorly treated by ancient writers. Pliny, for example, characterizes the striking of a gold ring as the gravest sin of man. Through an exploration of various empirical data sourced from outside the historical discipline, we will attempt to revisit the history of the ancient Roman mining enterprise in Iberia using ancient sources in order to consider the possibility that our understanding of its size, scope, and impact using only the ancient literature is insufficient. Ancient discourse on the topic of mining is laden with class-based bias and cannot provide enough accurate information to assess the realities of Roman mining in Iberia. To understand this ancient industry, I recommend a new approach, one that is inclusive of recent empirical data and archeological evidence from outside the historical discipline. My examination of secondary sources shows that, while modern historians have attempted to overcome this burden of bias using archaeological evidence, none have utilized atmospheric evidence in concert with ancient, and archaeological sources.19 It is important to restate that I will not forgo the ancient authors in my analysis nor will I omit the archaeological and empirical data. Instead, I ask that you consider the ancient literature with all of this new data. Lastly, I believe this approach is important as an

18 Plutarch, Lives: The Life of Sertorius. Vol. VIII: (Loeb Classical Librar, 1919),39.In 75 AD, Plutarch writes that just as the Romans and Carthaginians, Lusitanian-Iberian peoples also perceived the value of mining as an agent of dominance and so also sought this knowledge from the Roman, Quintus Servius prior to the Sertorian War (80 BC to 72 BC). Plutarch writes, “Sertorius was admired and loved by the Barbarians, and especially because by introducing Roman arms and formations and signals he did away with their frenzied and furious displays of courage, and converted their forces into an army, instead of a huge band of robbers. Still further, he used gold and silver without stint for the decoration of their helmets and the ornamentation of their shields, and by teaching them to wear flowered cloaks and tunics, and furnishing them with the means to do this, and sharing their love of beautiful array, he won the hearts of all.” 19 This data relays ancient mining pollutant data (isotopic chemical signatures) emitted from the mining enterprise into a verified chronology (often expressed in YBP). This data can also tell us much about size, scope, and impact on surrounding societies and the environment and as more studies are completed each year in different world regions, a greater determination of ancient events can be obtained. For a detailed report on the scientific methods used in sediment analysis see, United Nations Environmental Programme. Methods For Sediment Sampling and Analysis, (MED WG.282/Inf.5/Rev.1:Palermo, Italy: 2006), [http://sednet.org/download/wg-282-inf-5-rev-1.pdf.] A couple of classic texts using a similar methodology are J. Boardman’s, The Greeks Overseas: Their Early Colonies and Trade (London, Thames and Hudson: 1999) and R. Drews’, The End of the Bronze Age: Changes in Warfare and the Catastrophe Ca. 1200 B.C., (New Jersey, Princeton Univ. Pr:1995) and B. Cundliffe, The Ancient Celts. (Oxford, Oxford Univ. Pr: 1997). Also see Palmer, Richard. Hermeneutics. (Chicago, Northwestern Univ. Pr: 1979), 81-83.

67 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 innovative methodology and may have the potential to augment other applicable narratives as well.20 —Ancient Sources— While it may be surprising to hear that both ancient and contemporary historians often disregard mining as an ancillary industry, the reality was quite the opposite. As C.S. Smith stated, “the mining industry in Iberia was such a vast and widespread enterprise that it likely affected almost every aspect of daily life for the ancients who occupied the Iberian mining regions dominating the peninsula.”21 Mining, at the very least, helped Rome to establish and maintain its dominance. Following Carthage’s ultimate demise at the end of the third Punic War, the hegemony Rome enjoyed throughout the Mediterranean would have most assuredly been less ubiquitous without a successful mining industry.22 Yet even though the Iberian mining industry was crucial to Roman hegemony at this time, ancient writers appear to address the topic with vagueness and contempt.23 Roman historian Velleius Paterculus verifies this when he remarks coyly: “During this epoch, the Tyrian fleet, which controlled the seas, founded Gadir at the end of Spain and at the end of the earth.”24 In another ancient reference, Strabo also described the land and peoples of Iberia in a discourse laden with a mild contempt of the societies in his Geography.25 As we can see from the passage below, Strabo’s tone is suspiciously desirous of the Iberian resources. He states, “Of the various riches of the aforenamed country, not the least is its wealth in metals: this everyone will particularly esteem and admire. Of metals, in fact, the whole country of the Iberians is full, although it is not equally fertile and flourishing throughout, especially in those parts where the metals most abound.” 26 Strabo’s passage has value in this research for

20 This analysis has been informed by both empirical data and broader conceptual approaches predominating in the field of history, these will be cited and discussed in detail in footnotes throughout the research. 21 Biringuccio, Pirotechnia (1540: xi). This introduction was given by Cyril Stanley Smith, University of Chicago, Institute for the Study of Metals in 1958. It is pertinent to mention here that C.S. Smith, and Martha Teach Gnudi provide excellent translation and additional explanatory notations throughout Biringuccio’s seminal 16th-century text on the technical details and history of and mineral and metallurgical extraction processes. However, the esoteric nature of alchemy in the early-modern period makes analysis of this literature problematic. For purposes of this study, a focus on ancient sources prior to the 2nd-century will take precedence over the early-modern sources. 22 See Femia (1981) for a treatment of Gramsci’s ideology, especially on his notions of hegemony. 23 Appian. Wars. 2 24 In Bierling, Marilyn R., et al. The Phoenicians in Spain: An Archaeological Review of the Eighth- Sixth Centuries B.C.E.: A Collection of Articles Translated from Spanish. Winona Lake, IN: Eisenbrauns, (2002: 156). For his original work, see both works by Velleius Paterculus in Compendium of Roman History (trans. F. W. Shipley. 1924; Loeb Classical Library: Harvard University Press). I would also like to point out the language specifically designating Gadir as the “end of the earth” reflects the notion that this region in Iberia was considered a distant colony by inhabitants of Latium. 25 We will revisit the implicit meaning behind this message in our discussion of bias and contempt employed by Pliny in the Historia Naturalis. 26 The Roman citizen-historian Strabo was born c. 70 BC and lived throughout his life as a hellenistically trained scholar in Rome and Alexandria sympathetic to stoic philosophy. Strabo considered himself an elite and wrote a history, and a Geography, the latter being the work most cited by modern

68 The Springs Graduate History Journal two reasons: first, it tells us that elite opinions in Rome concerning the value of metals in Iberia were commonplace at a point when Roman power approached its zenith in the territory, and second, the fact Strabo uses the specific phrase, “everyone will admire,” to refer to the metallurgic richness of Southern Iberia confirms that Romans were proud of their hard-won Iberian territory. Strabo’s use of “everyone” in this context, meant all peoples regardless of class. In sum, Strabo’s account, while limited to an elite perspective, tells us that the 1st-century CE Roman attitude towards its territories in Iberia were boastful. Even though most people were illiterate at the turn of the millennium and could not have read Strabo’s writings, this knowledge was part of all class discourses which broached the brutal conflict during the Punic Wars in Iberia. In his brief discussion of Iberia, Roman historian Pliny the Elder discusses the massive scope of the mining enterprise when he surveys Roman holdings in the newly acquired province of Iberia during the first century BC. As Pliny recorded, “Nearly the whole of [Iberia] abounds in mines of lead, iron, copper, silver, and gold.” 27 While it is unclear why exactly this rumination on Iberia and the mining enterprise escaped the detail Pliny would apply to other topics, we can glean from his descriptions of the region that the material wealth gained from Rome’s mining activity in Iberia was vast, and, as will be discussed in section III, the effect of this industry on Iberian society and the environment was substantial despite the ancient authors vague references to the topic.28 Among the few ancient sources available in this research, the single most cited source for Iberian mining history is Pliny the Elder’s Historia Naturalis.29 The Historia Naturalis is a widely used compendium that scholars of the ancient humanities treat as a seminal encyclopedic resource in Roman studies.30 Written in the first-century A.D., the discursive hegemony Pliny enjoys in the field of ancient history is great, yet to understand the ancient mining industry in Iberia from only Pliny’s work is an impossibility. This is due to the prejudicial nature of his discourse on issues of manual

historians. Strabo, Geography, 3.2.9. In addition, see Dueck (2017), pp. 1-18, 51-54, for an excellent introductory analysis of Strabo’s works. 27 Pliny. Historia. 4.3. 28 Shepherd, 1993. Centuries before the Roman Republic understood the value of the Iberian resource extraction enterprise, it was a commonly held notion that the Iberian peninsula was a worthy possession for any metal-wielding empire seeking dominance in the Mediterranean. Even before the Carthaginian conquest of the island of Gadir in the 3rd century B.C., the nearby Iberian mainland had been prized for its metallurgic resources by existing inhabitants and this awareness prevailed amongst rulers and subjects alike until long after the fall of the Republic. 29 Along with Pliny, the research also utilizes Diodorus Siculus, Appian, Polybius, and Strabo. 30 Prior, during, and after Pliny’s birth in 23 AD, Iberia was a greatly valued imperial possession. This is evidenced than by the very nature and ferocity by which the Punic engagements were fought. As we have discussed, this intensity was often corroborated in ancient sources like Strabo and Appian. During Pliny’s lifetime, Roman colonization of Iberia evolved to the point that Rome granted citizenship to Romanized Iberians. Pliny’s implicit support of Roman hegemony in this specific region during the post- Punic war period highlighted his elitist position and perception of Iberia as a Roman possession. This, he determined, was wrought out of Roman victory over the Carthaginians following the culmination of the conflict.

69 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 labor. Among the few ancient sources available in this research the single most cited source for Iberian mining history is Pliny’s Historia Naturalis. Excerpts of the Historia Naturalis, written in the first century B.C. show us Pliny’s preference for farming the land as opposed to mining it: “We trace out all the veins of the earth, and yet, living upon it, undermined as it is beneath our feet, are astonished that it should occasionally cleave asunder or tremble: as though, forsooth, these signs could be any other than expressions of the indignation felt by our sacred parent! We penetrate into her entrails, and seek for treasures in the abodes even of the Manes, as though each spot we tread upon were not sufficiently bounteous and fertile for us!”31 In the above passage, Pliny looks upon mining as an act of hubris, while at the same time promoting agriculture and the positionality of elite farmer-statesman like himself. Moreover, this rumination reveals Pliny’s contempt for what he would have agreed was the laborious and reckless enterprise of mining. Given the impact of Pliny in contemporary historiography, the effect of his class-bias towards the mining enterprise is an aspect this research must treat if we are to understand the historical limitations of Pliny’s treatment on the subject.32 Despite the Historia Naturalis’ limitations as an elite text whose audience was exclusively Patrician (i.e. elite), Pliny was merely writing for his era, as a Roman historian and statesman who was proud of the successes wrought through Roman expansion before and also during his lifetime.33 As such, Pliny was not writing for the common person who experienced the enterprise directly, but instead for literate elites who, like him, had entirely different experiences than did laborers and slaves working the mines and smelting facilities.34 Strabo uses the same language of dominance as Pliny

31 Plin. Nat. 33.1 32 Of the modern authors surveyed in this project, many agreed that the limitations of discovery using only the ancient sources are substantial. See Shepherd, 1993, 186-91 and Friedman (2013), pp. 307-322. 33 Just as modern colonial statesman have shown centuries after with their descriptions and founding of cities like New Amsterdam or states like New Mexico, so too from Pliny’s prior statement and elite perspective do we see a clear implication of the importance of Rome as the central dominant power in Iberia. There is a “Plinian” tendency of sympathy towards Roman dominance as evidenced from Pliny’s use of the term “Novo Carthage.” In the following passage we can see how Pliny’s analysis of the Iberian other cannot be taken as an accurate account of events as his position as a noble, or landed farmer causes him to prize a top-down narrative over that of a critical recounting of events as experienced by the lower classes. “New Carthage,” was a term Rome (and Pliny) used to imply its colonial dominance over its Iberian territory. 34 Consider this statement in Plin. Nat. 4.3: “The ancient form of the Nearer Spain, like that of many other provinces, is somewhat changed, since the time when Pompey the Great, upon the trophies which he erected in the Pyrenees, testified that 877 towns, from the Alps to the borders of the Farther Spain, had been reduced to subjection by him.”

70 The Springs Graduate History Journal and as these two ancient authors are the most ubiquitous sources in the secondary literature, the impact of this bias should be examined rather than downplayed.35 In sum, it is extremely difficult for the mining historian to use Strabo (or Pliny) to uncover specific information concerning the extraction of resources. Like Pliny’s Historia, Strabo’s Geography offers historians little direct evidence of the mineral wealth, the perceived value, and the overall impact of the mining enterprise. 36 In any case there is a plausible argument behind the notion mining knowledge was a State secret. Thus, relying solely on Strabo and Pliny as accurate sources of information for Iberian mining history neglects the advances of modern science, and thus, cannot hold up to modern historical scrutiny. Ancient writings on mining history in the Roman Republic were not only elitist, they were vague, sparse and devoid of technical details. As I have attested, the few ancient historians whom we have discussed write on mining not with accurate detail, but instead with vague statements and this has left mining historians with more questions as to the exigencies and agencies of the mining industry in Iberia. While Pliny’s elite position as Roman farmer-statesman may have inspired his lack of treatment and apparent bias, the widespread use of Pliny and the overall gravity of his discourse in the historiography had a lasting and tangible effect not only on later writings on the topic but also upon our modern historical understanding. Roman elites and Iberian subjects alike understood technical mining knowledge as crucial to attain and maintain power. During the relative calm following the Roman conquest of Iberia in the second Punic War, its newfound dominance was judiciously maintained by elites who took their cues from the status quo in Rome. For these elites, the health of the Iberian mining enterprise was proportionate to the viability of

35 For Pliny and Strabo, the celebration of Pompey and Mettulus’ rapid subjection of Lusitanian society during the Sertorian War during the early-to-mid- first-century B.C, was also the celebration of Roman power. A critical recounting of the same events by the Iberians under Roman subjection most certainly would have sounded less triumphant. In Strabo’s coverage of the colonization of Iberia, he states, “The very names of many of the towns at present, such as Pax Augusta amongst the Keltici, Augusta-Emerita amongst the Turduli, Cæsar-Augusta amongst the Celtiberians and certain other colonies, are proof of the change of manners I have spoken of.” Strabo. Geography. 3.2.15. Here “manners” refers to the hegemonic nature of Roman power in Iberia following the decline of Carthaginian power in the same territory. Like Pliny, Strabo writes in a braggadocious manner concerning Roman dominance over Iberian territory and resources. Yet in Strabo’s treatment of Iberian colonization, there is a palpable sense from the text that he either intentionally obfuscates his discussion of the metallurgical resources in region here or he is aloof of the technical details concerning the enterprise and/or only interested in the economic aspects. For the seminal treatment of the limitations of elitist historical narratives, See Said, Edward. Orientalism. (NY: Vintage, 1979). 36 In Strabo’s defense, he does mention the mineral wealth of the region, in Geography (3.2) he stated, “There is much silver found in the parts about Ilipas and Sisapo.” In the same place, he also stated, “There are copper and gold about the Cotinæ.” Furthermore, see Strabo (3.2) for one of the only ancient treatments of the technical aspects of mine production and smelting in Iberia extant from a 1st-century AD author.

71 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 hegemony the metropole enjoyed. Yet another reason for lack of ancient treatment on mining was because Roman elites sought to control the flow of this information: writings on this topic were viewed as privileged information. Elites like Pliny and Strabo well understood the value of this knowledge as well as the necessity of mining in warfare, so they guarded this knowledge with jealousy just as had the Carthaginians, the Phoenicians, the Athenians, and the Spartans who all colonized the Iberian territory before Rome accomplished the feat in the mid-second century BC.37 —Early Modern Sources— For the ancient mining historian seeking technical details, the earliest, most comprehensive classical-era treatments of the topic come from two sources: G. Agricola (1556) and from V. Biringuccio (1540). While these two sources were written over twelve-hundred years after the advent of the Roman mining enterprise in Iberia, they are seminal texts in the pre-modern discipline of mining history and it must be understood that these are widely utilized in the historiography of ancient mining. In the Foucauldian interpretation of texts, the discursive persistence of the ancient writings of Pliny, Strabo, and Polybius in these respective works is substantial.38 This was due to Early-Modern and Classical-era writings on mining relying heavily on Pliny. Classical sixteenth-century treatments on the topic of mining, like Pliny’s 1st -century BC work were crafted as encyclopedic resources and they are characterized as more concerned with conquest and dominance than completeness of detail. For example, drawing on Polybius, and speaking of the silver mines of New Carthage (SE Iberia), Strabo tells us, “they are extremely large, distant from the city about 20 stadia, and occupy a circuit of 400 stadia, that there are 40,000 men regularly engaged in them, and that they yield daily to the Roman people [a revenue of] 25,000 drachmæ. The rest of the process I pass over, as it is too long…” 39 Biringuccio and Agricola’s recounting of events in ancient Iberia, and their texts’ reliance on questionable ancient source material makes these works unreliable because their treatment of the topic merely restates the elitism and bias extant in the ancient sources. Furthermore, Biringuccio and Agricola were literate elites who, as products of the class structures of their eras, disdained the wretched labor of the destitute as did Pliny and Strabo before. Despite this, the De Re Metallica (1568) and Pirotechnia (1540) are the first technical treatments of the topic to appear in the historiography and so are critical texts which connect the ancient and modern sources. —Modern Sources—

37 Shepherd, 1993, 194-96. 38 Gnaeus Agricola, De Re Metallica. Translated by C.S.S Smith and Martha Teach-Gnudi for the Engineering and Mining Journal, (New York: American Institute of Mining and Metallurgical Engineers, 1954), 608. 39 Strabo, Geography, 3.2, this report, Strabo tells us (via Polybius), occurred around 7 BCE.

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With knowledge suppression and bias permeating the few ancient sources extant, we turn now to explore scientific methods that lead to a different perspective from the discourse of ancient sources. For the archeological study of southern Iberian mining during the Republic, a seminal resource comes from the Huelva Archaeo-Metallurgical Survey. This study examined the archeological record at mine-sites in southwestern Spain and Portugal along the Iberian Pyrite Belt and the Mediterranean coast in Iberia. The evidence revealed from this expansive study is, in the words of the authors, “a first synthesis of the history of mining and metal production within the framework of the archaeological chronology of the Huelva province.”40 The authors mapped out the mining structures which occurred in the region. Ultimately, this nodal study of mine- sites in Southwest Iberia illustrates that mining in Iberia was a massive enterprise. The study also evidences that “the overwhelming importance of metal in the history of the province can be appreciated by the very scale and extent of the remains of extractive metallurgy.”41 The archeological record details the extent of pre-Roman mining, which helps establish a starting point for the overall chronology.42 Thus, at least in southern Iberia, the mining industry, according to Shepherd, existed in a constant state of flux and evolution long before the Roman occupation.43 Moreover, Shepherd argued that following the advent of silex (stone) mining in pre-historic times, copper and tin mining began later during the enolithic era, the transitional phase between pre-historic stone tool-use, and the early use of copper tools. According to prevailing theory, in Iberia, this occurred around 5000 BC and is also known as the Chalcolithic period. As Shepherd states, “some of the most famous ancient copper mines of the world are located near Huelva...the pyrite deposits [there] were never worked by prehistoric man.44 To overcome the limitations of ancient texts discussed earlier, another option is to study ancient lead ingots for answers.45 In a recent analysis of lead ingots found in a shipwreck off the coast of Sicily, researchers discovered that the lead’s source was Cartagena in southeastern Iberia along the Mediterranean coast and that the ingots revealed evidence of Roman trade prior to the Imperial period (prior to 31 BC). As they state: “Epigraphic and isotopic analysis of the lead ingots recovered from a shipwreck off

40 Beno and Blanco-Frejeiro (1981), p.163. 41 Ibid. 42 Shepherd argues the mines in the Rio Tinto district are likely the “longest worked mines in the western world” Shepherd, Prehistoric Mining, 194-96. 43 Ibid,194-97. 44 The pyrite deposits allowed for mining of silver, lead, copper, and gold. While tin was unavailable until about 3000 BC, the mining activities in Iberia occurred much earlier. Ibid, 194-99. 45 It is important to understand the value of lead in the Roman Republic as a product produced as the result of smelting silver ore. As a by-product of silver production, this lead was utilized widely in the Republic in various capacities such as plumbing, wine preservative, and its most salient application for this research, as a method for securing and identifying refined silver. For a valid discussion of the topic of silver mining and the lack of persistence of the pure metal over time, see Tisseyre (2008). Also see Gowland (1920).

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Capo Pasero (in Sicily) in mid-2006 suggests that the ingots were produced in Spain...The wreck is estimated to have occurred around 38 BC, at the beginning of the Hispanic era. This provides more evidence that the Romans were trading lead [and therefore silver] throughout the Mediterranean sea.”46 In the context of this research, this discovery is important to for two reasons: one, the findings corroborate ancient accounts of the size of the industry and its geopolitical importance to Rome, and two, they confirm and connect the modern empirical data discussed in this section with the ancient literature we have covered thus far. Erik Magntorn’s argument for a massive gold mining enterprise, in his archeological study of Roman Gold mines in Northwest Iberia, revises the historiography on the topic by focusing on the archaeological record which speaks to the massive size and scope of the gold mining enterprise.47 Magntorn’s research attempts to reconcile the archeological evidence with the literary evidence of Pliny and Strabo to understand the logistics behind the refinement process known as “Ruina-Montium,” or as he defines it, the “way of breaking down immense, compact deposits of gold bearing sand.”48 Magntorn struggles to reconcile the discrepancies created by comparing the archaeological record to Pliny and his concluding analysis points to Pliny’s limitations and the importance of the archaeological record to overcome them. In another archeological study of Iberian mining, the article, “Ancient and Medieval Mining Engineering in Southwest Iberia” refutes the traditional understanding of the industry as espoused by ancient authors by proposing the notion that technical knowledge of the Iberian mining enterprise was preserved through medieval times not as a result of technical documentation, but instead as orally transmitted knowledge gleaned from observation and analysis of existing ancient mines worked centuries earlier. Moreover, this article concludes that mining techniques have improved and been systematized by the archeological site observations of both ancient and modern peoples interested in mining in Iberia. Lastly, it is important to note that the activities of the modern mining industry in Iberia destroy evidence that can illuminate the ancient enterprise. As mentioned in Studies in Ancient Mining and Metallurgy in South-West Spain: Explorations and Excavation in the Province of Huelva, much of the archaeological record was destroyed by the modern mining industry. Especially in the Rio Tinto mining district, active mining operations have repurposed many ancient sites, often times re-smelting slag

46 Tisseyre, Philippe, et.al. “The Lead Ingots of Capo Pasero: Roman Global Mediterranean Trade.” Oxford Journal of Archaeology. (Blackwell Publishing. Massachusetts: 2008), pp. 315-23. 47 Magntorn, Eric. “Ruina Montium: A Case Study of Roman Gold-Mining in North-West Spain.” Roman Gold and the Development of Early Germanic Kingdoms: Aspects of Technical, Socio-Political, Artistic, and Intellectual Development (Vol 27-33. Stockholm: 2001), pp. 27-33. 48 Ibid.

74 The Springs Graduate History Journal heaps that Roman mining operations left behind.49 In her structural analysis of the a mine-site in the Faynan, a Roman copper-producing region in southwest Jordan, Hannah Friedman’s work uncovered reasons why the archaeological record allows for analysis of the labor situation at a mine-site.50 This work is important here because, as I have argued, ancient sources do not give us details of peasant life in and around the mines. Arguing that slaves and freemen worked the mines in the Faynan, Friedman gives shape to a complex industry, using empirical evidence which cannot be gleaned from only the ancient sources on the topic. What’s more, Friedman reveals that under Roman management, being sent to work the mines was tantamount to a death-sentence; most mining laborers lived, labored, and died underground. That is, they died in the mine which they worked. Arguing that the observed structure of the mine, size of the mine entrance, and location of the observation tower on the mine-site are telling clues as to the nature of the labor force and the methods of forced labor at a mine site. In the context of this methodology, Friedman’s insights provide an approach for us to follow, but, as I have discussed prior, her insights do not go far enough. While Friedman’s research alludes to the limitations of the ancient source material, it fails to use all the evidence available. The geochemical data I discuss next is the missing link needed to uncover the realities of life and labor at a mine-site for elite and common participants and the key connection between the ancient and modern evidence.51 Most importantly, the data discussed next tells us, with a remarkable degree of accuracy, about the size, scope, and impact of the enterprise across Iberia and the northern hemisphere. —Atmospheric Research— Sediment and ice core data sets give us a better idea of the size and scope of ancient mining works in Iberia and it connects other modern methods (archeological, epigraphic, and numismatic) together so as to definitively unveil the realities of the Roman mining enterprise. Secondly, it overcomes the limitations of bias in the primary sources which obfuscated the enterprise in the ancient world as it is based on numerical data rather than personal observation. Third, this atmospheric data allows researchers to analyze trace elements which tell us about the type of mining and smelting occurring as well as the methods used. Sediment and ice core data, in this particular research, also tells us more about the size and scope of ancient mining works in Iberia than does the

49 Smelting is the process by which a metallic ore is heated (using wood and charcoal) and refined into a base element such as lead, silver, copper, iron, or gold. The smelting process requires an enormous amount of heat energy and requires a substantial knowledge of smelting process and ore properties. See the Huelva Survey (1981) for a description of how the archaeological record captured the evolution of smelting knowledge and how this analysis is used to determine the particular civilization undertaking mining operations on a given mine-site. Slag is the byproduct of smelting ore. The type of slag indicates the level of technological proficiency of the mining-operation and the people running it. 50 Friedman. (2008), pp. 1-11 and also see Friedman (2013), pp. 307-322. 51 See Rubincam, David and Catherine Reid. The Terminology of Power in the Early Roman Empire. (Cahiers Des Études Anciennes N° 26, 1991), pp. 155-71, for an additional treatment of Roman power and labor using a structural analysis similar to Friedman’s approach.

75 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 ancient literary sources.52 As a result of this lack of ancient sources, I propose scholars use new methods that include archeological, epigraphic, and numismatic data sets so to (1) unveil the realities of the enterprise and (2) overcome the limitations of ancient bias and technical knowledge suppression. As such, the information I have amalgamated from these new empirical studies can be repurposed for use in the historical conversation concerning mining in Iberia.53 The article “Greenland Ice Evidence of Hemispheric Lead Pollution Two Millennia Ago by Greek and Roman Civilizations” refutes the traditional interpretation of mining history as a subdued, ancillary enterprise by showing “that lead [was] present at concentrations four times as great as natural values from about 2500 to 1700 years ago (500 B.C. to 300 A.D.).” What’s more, the authors of the aforementioned article reported, “ [that] these results show that Greek and Roman lead and silver mining and smelting activities polluted the middle troposphere of the Northern Hemisphere on a hemispheric scale two millennia ago, long before the Industrial Revolution.”54 In essence, this tells us that the Iberian mining enterprise during the Roman era was large enough to have a substantial effect on the environment long before the European industrial revolution. Furthermore, this data confirms the few ancient reports about the size of the industry extant we have discussed. Prior to the release of this data in the late 1970’s, only the field of archeology was able to corroborate such claims. According to the authors, “The history of human lead production began about six millennia ago” and “then rose continuously during the copper, bronze, and iron ages, stimulated by the introduction of silver coinage (during those times, lead was as much as a 300-to-I by- product of silver).”55 The illustration above (fig. 3) reveals that mining activity during Roman times was a massive enterprise. So much so that the pollution recorded in the ancient ice-core data was comparable to levels reached during the industrial revolution. In a brief analysis, this data is as important as it is surprising. Firstly, it tells us that humans have been mining the earth on a hemispheric scale long before the industrial revolution and even millenia prior to the Roman conquest of Iberia. Second, it tells us

52 Isotopic analysis of heavy metal particles (specifically Pb) in the studies that we will be discussing are focused on the long-range transmission of metal particles that occur as a result of mining activities. More specifically these heavy metals are transmitted when an ore is processed and frozen and trapped in the ice or sediment far from the site of pollution. Hong and Candelone, et al (1994) posit that this can be used for triangulation “Further evidence of this hemispheric-scale pollution by Greco-Roman civilization might be found in other archives, such as sea sediments in the North Atlantic Ocean and in the Mediterranean Sea. Analysis of lead isotopes could fingerprint the relative contributions of the different ancient mining districts to this pollution.” 53 While Atmospheric data is a new field, much of the atmospheric data taken from the ice in Greenland and Antarctica is concerned with other topics located much further back in the distant past (i.e. paleo-environmental studies). In addition, atmospheric studies of the climate are politically contentious and as a result academic researches on the topic have been slow to utilize the data for fear of retribution. 54 Hong, S., J.-P. Candelone, C. C. Patterson, and C. F. Boutron. "Greenland Ice Evidence of Hemispheric Lead Pollution Two Millennia Ago by Greek and Roman Civilizations." (Science 265, no. 5180: 1994), 1841-843. doi:10.1126/science.265.5180.1841 55 Ibid.

76 The Springs Graduate History Journal that the scale by which they were operating was much greater than the ancients discussed. Put simply, a study based on only ancient sources cannot provide us with the detail needed to treat the topic definitively. What’s more, using only the empirical data in such analysis prevents us from capturing the human element underneath the story of mining in Iberia. Furthermore, while the ancient source material only begins to describe the size and scope of the ancient enterprise, and the gift of hindsight allows modern historians the ability to analyze these ancient events from the perch of dispassion, a combined, interdisciplinary approach is essential for a complete synthesis. In sum, the methodological approach I am advocating for here combines the empirical data introduced in this section, with the ancient evidence from section II in order to get a definitive picture of events regarding the mining enterprise an Roman held Iberia.56 In a similar approach to Hong, Candelone, Patterson, and Boutron (see fig. 3), the geochemical analysis of isotopic data in Spain by Irabien and Cearreta, et al extends the timeline of Roman industrial operations like mining well beyond that which is traditionally postulated by Roman historians following the decline of the empire in 500 AD. Irabien and Cearreta, et al argue the mining enterprise continued in Iberia even after Roman power declined in the territory. As they state: “The beginning of Roman mining activities is recorded by a marked increase in Pb concentrations. However, the maximum value appears later in time (after 660 cal AD). Although this enrichment could be related to the reworking upstream of previously polluted materials, recently obtained archaeological data suggest that episodes of historically non-documented mining activities could have taken place in the surrounding area after Roman times.”57 This important study by Irabien and Cearreta et al. not only extends the timeline of mining activities well beyond the care of Roman control in the 6th-century, it postulates and confirms that mining activities were occurring as undocumented events Irabien and Cearreta, et al. concluded their study with a final analysis that speaks to this research, vindicating the method to an extent. As they stated, “The multidisciplinary approach used in this work, combining micropaleontological, geochemical and archaeological information, has proven to be successful in providing an accurate picture of the environmental conditions of the Bidasoa estuary during Roman times.”58 Marín, Antonio, and Ariño, in an article examining the structure of the Roman mining apparatus in southeastern Iberia, also advocate for an interdisciplinary approach in the field of mining at the turn of the millennium in Iberia. Here it is important to note the similarity in criticism of the ancient sources as has been discussed in this paper:

56 One which is consistent with the modern praxis of interdisciplinary historical research advocated by I. Wallerstein and E. Boyer. 57 Irabien and Cearreta, et al. 2012. (Journal of Archaeological Science 39, 2012), p. 2368. 58 Ibid.

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“We know very little about the organisation of mining, the processing of the mineral and subsequent exportation. The ancient authors gave little importance to these aspects. They merely refer to the mass influx of Italic peoples in the 2nd century BCE looking for the economic benefits provided by mining or the large number of hands who worked in the mines. We need to turn to epigraphy and archaeology for a better understanding of these questions.”59 Like Irabien and Cearreta’s paper, the above conclusion by Marín, Antonio, and Ariño reveals the nature of expansion during the early phase of the Roman mining enterprise, and it corroborates my introductory argument: that colonizing Romans, just as the Carthaginians prior, knew full well the value of this region. Furthermore, they recognized that controlling this territory assured a continuous flow of metallurgical resources for the imperial machine and the armies. For the ancient Romans, long-term imperium in the Mediterranean required a successful mining enterprise. Atmospheric data taken from sediment cores around Iberia also helps build an empirically-based ontology which can be used to overcome the ancient source limitations discussed above. These sediment cores, unlike the ice cores used by Hong, S., J.-P. Candelone, C. C. Patterson, and C. F. Boutron (see fig. 3) are extracted out of swamp-like peat bogs and from varved lake sediments but the data equally applies in this analysis. Renberg, Bindler, and Brannvall interpreted sediment core data from Iberia and from across Europe as information that can be set into a chronology.60 The authors found that not only could this data be used to triangulate ancient pollution sites, but that “the Roman peak in atmospheric lead-pollution fallout [occurred] c. ad 0 (100 bc to ad 200).”61 Taking the approach advocated in this paper a step further, we can then apply Irabien and Cearreta’s argument that the mining enterprise continued (albeit undocumented) well after the “fall” of the Roman empire. Irabian and Cearreta’s study, as we discussed, used atmospheric data to prove the Roman mining industry was large enough to emit lead particulates into the air which travelled thousands of miles away. Moreover, all of the long-range transmission of pollutants stipulated by Irabien and Cearreta et Al, occurred well after the traditionally agreed upon decline of the Roman Empire in at the end of the 4th-century CE.62 If pollutants could reach Greenland in

59 Antolinos Marín, Juan Antonio, and Borja Díaz Ariño. "The Organisation of Mining and Metal Production in Carthago Nova between the Late Republic and Early Empire." (Athenaeum: Studi Periodici Di Letteratura E Storia Dell’Antichità 101, no. (2) 2013), p.536. 60 Renberg, Bindler, and Brannvall (2001), pp. 511-16. 61 Ibid. 62 The implication Gowland (1920) made was based heavily on ancient literary sources and also on archaeological/numismatic evidence. I posit, he would have reconsidered this contention had he had access to Olías and Nieto (2015). As Gowan stated, “But with the advent of the Romans in the third century and their subsequent conquests the mines passed into their possession and were exploited by them on a very extensive scale until the fall of the Empire.” As for the “fall of the Roman Empire,” the sack

78 The Springs Graduate History Journal ancient times, then pollution was a tangible impact of this ancient enterprise, especially for people living in Iberia. How could the the ancient sources like Pliny and Polybius, Strabo and Appian, forgo such a detail as a dense smog emitted from a massive smelting operation in their ruminations? In that vein, how could these same authors have forgotten to mention the deforestation of Iberia for purposes of mining? More importantly, would they have omitted this fact intentionally. For pollution to travel thousands of miles from smelting production sites in Iberia, to swampy bogs in Sweden, or to the ice of Antarctica and Greenland, this enterprise had to be equally as massive as the 17th-century European incarnations of the industry (see fig. 3). Given the use of technology during the Industrial revolution which drastically reduced the labor needed while still increasing output. The size, scale and scope of the Roman mining operations must have been much greater in ancient times in order to have a similar impact. 63 Cortizas, Martínez, López-merino, et al, in their study entitled, "Atmospheric Pb Pollution In N Iberia During The Late Iron Age/Roman Times Reconstructed Using The High-resolution Record Of La Molina Mire (Asturias, Spain)" use sediment core data to argue that the forests around the Asturias mountains reached a state of no return after 180 AD “due to intense anthropogenic impact.” What this means, is that the forests in North Iberia were depleted before the the sack of Rome at the end of the 5th-century CE. This study also provides concrete proof of the environmental degradation I argue was ever present in the daily lives of those who lived in Iberia at the time. Returning to my suggested approach, we must ask how the ancients missed this in their various works on the topic. This data helps to overcome this particular historical limitation. Olías and Nieto’s approach was similar to Cortizas, Martínez, López-merino, et Al. in that it also utilized sediment core data from Iberia. Olías and Nieto’s article, "Background Conditions and Mining Pollution throughout History in the Río Tinto (SW Spain)" interprets mining in southwest Iberia as a process which is still polluting the environment in Spain. In their treatment of environmental history of the Rio Tinto river basin, they posit “The arrival of the Roman Empire (second century BC) gave a strong impetus to mining, exploration, extraction, drainage systems and metallurgy. Roman technology made possible the exploitation of deposits on a hitherto unknown scale.”64 While this statement does indeed corroborate the notion Roman elites knew the value of the Iberian peninsula in terms of its richness of resources, Olías and Nieto’s work posits Roman mining had a lasting legacy on the land which reaches into today in the form of damage to the river basin. People utilizing these water sources on a daily basis in this region must have certainly noticed such pollution. By “using numerous geologic, of Rome and it burning by the Vandals in the mid-fifth century CE is the date usually regarded as the official end of Roman power in the Mediterranean. 63 The size, scale, and scope was much greater in ancient times given the advances of technology. Modern works utilize technology that has reduced the labor needed drastically while still increasing output. 64 Olías and Nieto (2015), p. 299.

79 Fall 2018 Vol. 1, No. 1 archaeological and historical records, [Olías and Nieto] conclude that the present quality of the Río Tinto is the result of mining activities [rather than natural processes].” What’s more, they posit this pollution was a result of Roman mining activities. Using isotopic data taken from lake sediment cores in multiple locations in and around the Rio Tinto, their report concluded that, “The maximum [mining/smelting] activity in this period occurred in the first century AD. After the second century, AD mines went into a gradual decline and, with the arrival of the Visigoths to the Iberian Peninsula (405 AD), the exploitation was abandoned.”65 Olías and Nieto’s work prompts the astute historian familiar with the ancient literary sources on this topic to reconcile a major discrepancy by answering an important question: if the foundation of Roman power rested on the successful extraction of Iberian metals, if the size and the scope of the enterprise was massive enough to emit pollution across the hemisphere, then why is it so poorly treated by ancient authors in Roman Empire like Pliny and Strabo? Above all, the research discussed in the above section recognizes the need for a multi-faceted, and interdisciplinary approach to solve these problems of ancient vagueness and bias this paper has highlighted. On one hand, the empirical and archeological data is vital to a comprehensive study of mining activities in Iberia. By relying only on the ancient source material, historians are not only perpetuating a class- based bias prevailing during Pliny’s lifetime (1st-century BC), they are crafting a one- dimensional account of events which only serves to obfuscate an enterprise as did the ancient authors. On the other hand, by relying only on the empirical data, historians risk excluding valuable discourse that tells us about life at the Iberian mines under Roman control. To paraphrase interdisciplinary scholar of Roman power David Mattingly here, “we must not throw the baby out with the bathwater.” That is, in historical research in the ancient world, we must be inclusive of all the data or we must exclude all it entirely. This paper advocates the former approach. Therefore, to revise the topic of Romano- Iberian mining with all the evidence in congress, one must synthesize all the resources I have discussed to account for the gaps and silences extant just as I have advocated throughout this paper.66 —Conclusion— Despite the bias and lack of ancient detail on the topic, Iberia was widely known for its rich metallic ore by ancient civilizations from afar and in fact, a cursory Google search for “mining in Spain” reveals that this region is commonly understood today as

65 Ibid. 66 While it was mentioned that it was not until the 1980’s that isotopic research began to be applied in the historical discipline, the first study to use ice cores to prove the existence of long range transmission of heavy metal particles (as a result of mining production) was undertaken by analyzing lead in an ice core from Greenland in 1980 by C.C. Patterson, in an article entitled "Lead in the Human Environment," this was a report prepared by the Committee on Lead in the Human Environment (National Academy of Sciences, Wash- ington, DC, 1980), pp. 265-349.

80 The Springs Graduate History Journal one of the most metallurgically rich regions in the world. As C.S. Smith noted, “Gold, silver, copper, and iron have all been found in archeological excavations of sites dated earlier than 3000 B.C. … the alloy bronze dates from about 2000 B.C…. Many objects of art and implements for warlike and domestic use that have been excavated in Egypt, Greece, and Rome show that considerable skill was possessed by the metalworkers of these civilizations.” I believe Smith’s point implies that metallurgical knowledge was known throughout the Mediterranean world where these civilizations flourished and travelled. Especially in Iberia, I submit that even the slave who contemplated his shackles understood that this knowledge was prized by all in the ancient world: aesthetically, through jewelry and decorative items, and functionally via farm implements, weaponry, and other tools. An examination of the funerary remains left in the archaeological record from 200 BC to 500 AD from each civilization mentioned above proves this point beyond a doubt.67 From the very limited ancient source material extant, it is clear that, aside from the local Turdetanian, Celtic, Gallic, and Lusitanian (Celtiberian) cultures (see fig. 1 and 2 above) that mined their resource-rich homeland, others, like the Phoenicians, the Carthaginians, the Greeks, and the Romans, came from afar to pursue these valued resources from as early as 1100 BC and this massive enterprise has continued to this day.68 While mining history may often be ensconced in technical details and overshadowed by “nobler deeds”, its agency in the progress of western civilization should not be underestimated as it has been. This research attempts to ameliorate this understatement to show that empirical data is indispensable in a contemporary study of ancient mining activities, and that mining has been the very foundation of the all colonial project’s in Iberia from the time of Novo Carthage to the epoch of today’s modern Cadiz. In addition, this paper explored how empirical evidence reveals detail about the Roman mining economy and even more about the larger structures which channeled these resources and wealth back to the Roman mainland than can be gleaned from the ancient sources. By analyzing the site evidence obtained from ancient smelting operations and examining their impact in relation to the site of production, future studies might use more empirical data that is being published to triangulate the locations of this enterprise in the ancient world, with more data to be assessed from various location across Europe, we can understand more about the technological underpinnings of these ancient metalworkers and with it, of empire itself.

67 Biringuccio, Vannoccio. Pirotechnia. 1540. This introduction was given by Cyril Stanley Smith, University of Chicago, Institute for the Study of Metals in 1958 (xi). It is pertinent to mention here that C.S. Smith, and Martha Teach Gnudi provide excellent translation and additional explanatory notations throughout Biringuccio’s seminal 16th-century text on the technical details and history of and mineral and metallurgical extraction processes. 68 Shepherd, Robert. Ancient Mining.1993, 186-91.

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Archeological data evidences how mining operations were schematically designed to address what the layout of a mining and smelting operation meant about the dynamics of power at the production sites. Analyzing the empirical evidence against ancient and contemporary sources which treat the history of Iberia under Roman control from 146 B.C. to 25 B.C. exploring how ancient mining processes impacted the historical landscape, the society, and the environment brings forth a new narrative. This study has implications for how we interpret the ecologic impact of mining activities during Rome’s tenure as hegemon in Iberia. It follows then that mining in Iberia during this period of Roman rule affected culture, environments, and the day-to- day lives of everyday people in the Mediterranean, and abroad.69 Finally, the analysis gleaned from this paper’s engagement with ancient sources unearthed what amounted to attempts to downplay the agency of mining technology as a task for the wretched poor (i.e. class-based bias). Because the limitations of these sources, this study, above all, vindicates the philosophy of interdisciplinary research. Given the advances of technology in related and pertinent disciplines, and the understatement of the mining enterprise’s agency in Roman imperial historiography, a new treatment on the history of ancient mining is long overdue and needed. I hope this paper serves as the catalyst in this process. While this study of Roman mining activities is a ground-level study, it has a larger outlook. Understanding the true impact of ancient mining is important to environmental historians discussing larger impacts of Rome on society and ecosystems. It is also important to the historical structuralists studying frameworks of Roman power in the ancient Mediterranean. To historical monumentalists who might object to such a seemingly ‘Marxist’ interpretation of Roman power, let it be a small token of amelioration that every legionnaire’s shining sword was wrested from the hands of toil and forged from the technology of destruction. No definitive nor plausible history of Roman power should be complete without an understanding of both these aspects, no matter how apparently inglorious or ignoble.

69 As the isotopic data from the sediment records across Europe, the ice core from Greenland and Antarctic data attests.

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