Apparently we will discover later today whether a skeleton excavated in a Leicester car park is that of Richard III. Whoop-de-doo. Apparently it has a curved spine and battle injuries (and obviously no one else in the middle ages ever suffered such things), but the crucial piece of the jigsaw will be the DNA test. Too much to hope that the margin of error on such things will be properly explained; I’m on the edge of my seat waiting to see whether it’s one in a million or one in seventeen billion that it isn’t the man himself. Of course, even if there isn’t a plausible match (the level of hysteria this morning suggests that they must feel pretty confident), this has still been wonderful publicity for the Leicester Archaeology department, and maybe even for archaeology in general. Who can complain about that?
Well, I’m going to. Why is it that a skeleton is interesting only if it’s that of a famous person? Indeed, why is it that every site must be Camelot, or Caesar’s palace, or the Great Edifice of Wherever, and every object must be Arthur’s chair or Cleopatra’s sewing-kit or Pericles’ wine cup? Of course it’s what the media (and, possibly, the public) want, something that links to the sort of history they’ve been taught (not least through other television programmes), organised around great men and women, who are then brought to life by the objects that are attributed to them – but archaeologists are more than happy to give it to them, which just reinforces the whole thing. It’s only a short step from seeing archaeology as a hunt for the personal effects of famous people (and objects are interesting only if some sort of link to a famous person can be invented) to seeing it as an Indiana Jones-style hunt for mystical treasures. Of course it must be so much better to be the Man Who Found Richard III’s Lunchbox than to be the Man Who Discovered Interesting Things About Late Medieval Spinal Injuries: heroic, romantic and interesting, rather than actually useful in the cause of developing knowledge and understanding.
Yes, I know it’s all about money; the publicity fluff is a means of getting funding for more serious research, and can probably all be counted under ‘Impact’ in order to justify spending public funds – the public would be indifferent bordering on hostile to the idea that researching late medieval health is a worthwhile activity, but happy to pay for the disinterment of someone they’ve heard of. But at what point does the publicity game take over, and the need for a gimmick to ‘justify’ the project start becoming the real driver of the project? Do archaeologists – whom I recall, when I was a graduate student, being extremely sniffy about conventional historical accounts – not occasionally get a little tired of being the handmaidens of historical narratives and conceptions of the past that are far more conventional, if not actively pernicious, than anything their historical colleagues actually produce?
What possible difference is the discovery and identification of this skeleton going to make to anything? Confirmation that Richard III died in the vicinity of the supposed site of Bosworth Field and had a hunchback? Okay, risk of circular reasoning, as it’s the location and the spinal deformation that play a role in the supposed identification, but in any case so what? Hardly changes our view of Richard or his reign, let alone anything else. This really is nothing more than a combination of the fetishisation of the material and good old-fashioned snobbery, the notion that somehow a past constructed from texts isn’t real enough and a past constructed on material evidence relating to ordinary people isn’t interesting enough, but a past involving the skeleton of a famous person wins on both counts. Bah, and humbug.
Tom Holland on Twitter has made two really good points. Firstly, that Richard III is more of a mythic figure (agreed; the whole point of the ‘great man’ conception of history, a narrative constructed around kings and nobles, is that it’s barely distinguishable from myth at the best of times and serves similar purposes – which is why people like Michael Gove are keen on it) and secondly that this explains the urge to find a material basis for it, exactly like Schliemann and Troy. Quite – do contemporary archaeologists really want to take Schliemann as a model for their discipline?
You should take a look at Time Team. They have made archeology interesting and more accessable to the general public. A lot of what they discover is mundane and everyday and is no less interesting than the discovery of a famous king. The same goes for the discovery of Richard III which some of us are interested in, even if you are not.
Archaeology (indeed, the kind of forensic genetics going on here) often seem distant, strange and irrelevant to the public at large. Because a famous name is associated with this site, many more people will go and see the excavation site, exhibition and what-have you than if this were just a medieval battle victim. These people will, as a result, learn a lot more about medieval warfare. They will be interested in spinal deformations, in head wounds from battle, in ritual humiliation over the back of a horse! They’ll want to know how the genetics of identifying him worked. It will (I hope!) inspire children to become historians, archaeologists and geneticists and inspire a more general interest in that period in many people. Look at TV programmes like History Cold Case – they don’t feature famous people but they do study them in the same depth as the case here. They look for the most interesting cases to show the breadth of the science and scholarship on offer. The discovery of RIII in Leicester is a good thing for science and archaeology in general. I know some of the genetics department staff involved in this, and they are fantastic researchers with great integrity. Couldn’t have wished for any other department to have been involved (although I am deeply jealous!).
Bit of a fallacy at the heart of this blog – no-one said that only a skeleton of a famous person was interesting; but the fact that other skeletons can be interesting doesn’t mean that the skeleton of a famous person can’t also be interesting (possibly in fact because the person is famous, or even just interesting). Suggest a bit of Logic 101 be applied there. That can then be applied to the rest of the piece too: it seems to imply that the news value of an archaeological discovery rests only in its archaeological importance, which is – don’t worry – a very common form of academic narcissism. In fact, the news value rests on its being newsworthy that archaeologists believe they have found the body of a famous king. It seems hard to quibble with that. The archaeological and historical importance of the find is separate, but I have read various accounts of how the find might be interesting from those points of view too.
If you don’t think it is the king, or have reasons to doubt it, why not just say so? Have the courage of your convictions, or at least doubts.
No, actually I think that – unfortunately – the newsworthiness of an archaeological discovery is probably in inverse proportion to its actual significance, certainly if the excitement about this one is anything to go by. On balance – and in the absence of any of the detailed evidence – it looks like it is the body of Richard, but I don’t think that tells us anything very interesting either way.
I agree with wadhamite above. This kind of thing can be likened to “flagship species” such as pandas or tigers in ecology: people care about these creatures and will pay to help protect the environments in which they live, which has the knock-on effect of helping lots of far less glamorous species too. Similarly, an event like this will raise people’s interest in the period in general. Every discipline needs its star topics that get people interested. One might say that the moon landings did very little for astronomy directly, but how many of today’s space scientists were inspired by them?
Also, the article overlooks the fact that discoveries of this kind can have genuine historical impact. Assume for a moment that the identification with Richard is more-or-less certain on the basis of the DNA evidence. We now know him to have been buried in Grey Friars, as was believed; we also now know him to have had a deformed spine, as was believed. Both of these were unsubstantiated stories told about him, with rival accounts as well (e.g. he wasn’t deformed at all; or his body was chucked into a river). Now we know which stories were true and which weren’t. That tells us something about the oral tradition and its reliability. It also tells us something about how Richard was viewed by his near-contemporaries (we already knew what they thought, but now we know a little more about which bits of it were true).
It appears to be confirmed that the skeleton is Richard 111’s.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/science/0/20205874
What interests me is the methods they used to find out. Just listening to the clip of Steve Jones explaining what DNA is was really thrilling to me.
So Uncle Scrooge cann’t we tempt you to marvel at the fact that we are all totally unique.?
[…] https://bristolclassics.wordpress.com/2013/02/04/bah-and-furthermore-humbug/ […]
Personally, I agree with you. As a (responsible) metal detectorist, I tire of people constantly asking me if I’ve found any treasure. I sometimes try to tell them about my most exciting finds, like the collection of odd metal fragments I built up from one field over a year, which were then identified as AS bucket mounts and recorded with PAS, but if they’re not made of gold or immediately recognisable, they’re not interested.
Likewise, people are facinated by the idea of Vikings plundering gold from monasteries on the east coast, but couldn’t care less about the evidence of some of them settling down to a farming existing around here in Bristol.
Archaeology has a huge amount to teach us about the past, which in turn can teach us about our possible futures, but the messages keep getting lost beneath an obsession with celebrity and monetary value.
Oh heavens. Let’s have a bit of cheer here. I remember being an enthusiaric young PhD student at a 15th century history research conference at Keele half a lifetime ago and having a heated and thoroughly enjoyable debate with loads of fellow medievalists about where R3s last resting place was likel;y to be. Yes, we’d had a few beers, but we also spent ages that evening trawling thorugh the chroncilers to remind ourselves what the evidence said.
And it’s an enjoyable discussion that I have had many times since with other historians, professional and (like myself) non-professional alike. So this debate and research has been kicking around for a long time. Enthusiatically, energetically and with passion. What have we been motivated by ? Fame ? Fortune ? Of course not. Good old fashioned curiosity and the spirit of enquiry. It’s not about grave-robbing, it’s about wanting to know “What happened ?”.And by damn this research has been exciting; science, archaeology, pathology, good old fashioned paper-based research; so many disciplines working together. A friend of mine texted me to say it was the Higgs Boson Particle of late 15th century History. Maybe an overstatement, but the team were tenacious, questioning, committed….isn’t that we want from out researchsers ? So I will be toasting the work in mead tonight !
What possible difference is the discovery and identification of this skeleton going to make to anything?
Isn’t it true that most academic research add very little to what we already know? The truly spectacular breakthroughs — things like Einstein’s Theory of Relativity or the types of things that win Nobel Prizes — are a rarity.
It does not follow, however, that the millions of pedestrian academic efforts (to which I also have contributed) are totally useless. They create an environment for the truly spectacular research to emerge.
May be this discovery will just be a minor footnote in the annals of history, as you suggest. It may also be that something really significant emerges from this skeleton. Many a significant discovery has emerged from what appears, at first sight, to be insignificant. But even if this discovery changes nothing of our view of the past, there is still a thrill in conclusively identifying a skeleton as being that of a particular person. I am surprised you can’t share that excitement.
[…] other point, which she has borrowed from Professor Morley at Bristol, is that our view of Richard III’s reign remains unchanged at the end of today, and this […]
Over the years there have been any number of programs identifying and reconstructing the faces of ordinary people,one of the most striking was the mass grave of murdered Jews in Norwich. In another a Roman Villa owner turned out to be a Black man. 2 severely disabled cousins in another. All very Right on.
pru
[…] then there is the history… Like Neville Morley and Charlotte Higgins, I’m still really wanting to know what history this really adds to […]
Many thanks for all the comments so far – a lot more than I’ve had on here before – and apologies for taking a while to respond, but I’ve been trying to get on with some of the things that I actually get paid for.
I think the best place for me to start is to say that I’ve always enjoyed Time Team, and thoroughly approve of it; indeed, I’ve previously noted on this blog how much better it is than most tv history programmes, because it shows you something of what archaeologists actually do – it builds the drama around the process of discovery, whereas history programmes tend to present the end results of research in a seamless narrative, with no indication of the problems or debates. Moreover, Time Team doesn’t have an obsession with royals or the nobility – they’ve always been equally interested in excavating the remains of everyday life (I’m afraid you’re just going to have to live with the fact that, as an economic and social historian, I don’t have much time for any study of the past that focuses exclusively on the elite, which is one reason why I’m less enthusiastic than many of you about the fact that this may be the skeleton of a king.)
I have no problem at all with the idea of making research accessible, taking it to the public rather than keeping it all as a private academic discussion, trying to catch the imagination etc. – several of my own books have tried to do this, however unsuccessfully. If this has been a television programme like History Cold Case, I’d have no problem with it (even if I might not have watched it): explanations of all the amazing scientific techniques that can be employed, fantastic. My objection – and I’ll happily accept that this may be a rather narrow, professional concern – is that this isn’t a matter of taking the results of academic research and popularising them, but rather a bit of academic research that has popularism written all the way through it like a stick of rock. All these fabulous scientific texts are being employed to address a research question that I personally find trivial and frivolous. Scientific method isn’t just about techniques, it’s about the framing of research questions, and for my money “is there a skeleton in the place we’re looking for it, and is there enough evidence to say that it is who we hope it is” isn’t the sort of serious question that I’d want to see substantial amounts of public money spent on answering. Popularising research is one thing; research driven by populism is another.
I can understand entirely why Leicester have made such a big thing of this, and why lots of people find it interesting. Thing is, I think that understanding the past is enormously important, which is why I became a historian; it gives us a sense of who we are and where we came from. That’s why I think that conceiving of the past solely in terms of trivial information about a limited number of historical personages is actually damaging and dangerous, and presenting archaeology as if it’s just about digging up material evidence to support that sort of old-fashioned history does the discipline a disservice. The best archaeology and historical research strives to understand what the past was really like and why it matters, and to communicate this as widely as possible, even if it means questioning some widely-held assumptions; this research project simply props up, maybe without meaning to, a very conventional perspective.
Mary Beard’s blog is fun and stimulating, but her questions on this aren’t the world’s most profound or worthwhile. It’s a time for celebrating historical research and I think she dropped the ball. Shame really. What does it add ? Well, it suggests that:
– we’re perhaps able to answer the question “what happened ?” which I think is a pretty good starting question for historical research.
– which fills in gaps about post-Bosworth events. Those are questions I’ve had over the years as an amauteur historian of the 15th century. Maybe others likke Prof Beard haven’t had those questions in their head. Maybe there are issues that really tax classicists that don’t bother me, but I’m not going to belittle their importance
– the written (contemporary-ish) evidence for what happens to R3 appears to be accurate. Which means we can now maybe trust a bit more in those sources. Cross-validation is helpful at times
How about those for starters ?
Mary Beard’s comments – http://timesonline.typepad.com/dons_life/2013/02/richard-of-york-gave-battle-in-vain.html – are, typically, more forthright than mine, but I wouldn’t disagree with very much of this. On the question of whether this discovery makes much difference to understanding of historical events, even the sort of kings’n’battles historical events that I prefer to avoid, see http://www.guardian.co.uk/science/2013/feb/04/digging-richard-iii-old-arguments.
[…] [2] Neville Morely, “Bah. And furthermore, humbug.” Sphinx: the Bristol Classics Blog, 4 Feb 2013: https://bristolclassics.wordpress.com/2013/02/04/bah-and-furthermore-humbug/ […]
[…] the day. Neville Morley, professor of ancient history at the University of Bristol, muttered on his Bristol Classics blog: “Whoop-de-doo … Why is it that a skeleton is interesting only if it’s that of a […]
Oh dear, oh dear, do I detect the rustle of the academic gown being drawn aside to avoid the plague of popular history?
In brief, no. As I said above, no problem at all with popular history, and all in favour of public dissemination of historical research; research driven by populist agenda rather than serious historical questions, not so much.
I don’t think you even have to be an economic and social historian to agree with the thrust of this. I was almost exclusively studying high politics as a medievalist student, and there has been a lot of exciting work done on the 15th C over the last thirty odd years – plenty of serious research questions in play concerning the monarch’s constitutional position, how kingship depended on effective lordship, the operation of local politics etc etc.
But apart from being an illustration of the political ramifications of defeat in battle, and perhaps an illustration of propaganda, I can’t see that this intersects with those questions. It does indeed come from a conventional perspective, one in which power is assumed to “flow” about between personalities, which are therefore of the first importance to political history – and political historians of this period don’t talk like that any more.
Sorry Prof Morley, but to me as a historian of the Wars of the Roses, ithe “what really happened to Richard ?” is a serious historical question and has been for a long time. Lots of my fellow 15th century historians too. If it’s suddenly popular, that’s great, but until everyone in the pub is talking about it (and they weren’t last night) I don’t think that particular rubicon has been crossed.
I’m afraid I honestly don’t see it. Yes, if you want to write a biography of Richard then this is relevant information, but as you’ll have gathered I don’t have much time for the biographical approach to history. As far as understanding the political-dynastic history of the time is concerned, I can’t see what difference it makes whether he was buried or thrown in the river. At the most, this tells us that some of the Tudor propaganda was based on truth (hunchback) and some wasn’t – which we knew anyway. As Alix suggests above, it is at best an illustration.
Wow, must say I was really surprised at the sniffiness from certain academic quarters towards this discovery. I would have thought that with the vandals in government right now, fellow historical academics would be much more supportive of the University of Leicester and their brief moment of glory. Right now, anything that encourages new students and retains funding for the humanities is a good thing.
This may be a populist subject, but as others have stated above, there is plenty of historical merit. You sound rather conceited when suggesting this is not a serious historical question, and even more graceless in not congratulating your colleagues on a job well done.
All there is here is open jealousy from Bristol that it was Leicester bathing in the spotlight and not them. Disappointing. I’d have expected more from a fellow university professor. Should be ashamed of himself.
Really no jealousy here; I’d be equally sceptical if this was my own university, though I might not be granted such freedom to express it. Happy to recognise the enormous skill of everyone involved in the project at Leicester, and I thought they did an excellent job in presenting their findings yesterday. I just wish it was all in a better cause.
Thanks Prof Morley
i think we’ll have to just agree to disagree, but I enjoyed the debate. i think there’s plenty of room for the biographical model alongside others (and I’m equally a massive fan of broader community, social and economic history).
From the political/dynastic point of view, I think the symbolism of how his body was disposed of matters a great deal – it’s tied up innately with the notion of kingship and how Henry VII established his right to rule amongst both the nobility and the population at large. That’s something he paid quite a bit of attention to in the early part of his reign, and he was challenged by rebellions on behalf of 2 separate pretenders to the throne.
Again, we’ll part company, but ithanks for responding. You have prompted my curiosity to read some of your own work too.
“I think the symbolism of how his body was disposed of matters a great deal – it’s tied up innately with the notion of kingship and how Henry VII established his right to rule amongst both the nobility and the population at large.”
Game, set, match. Bravo, Worthington!
The odour of envy is rather rank around this post, professor. It doesn’t reflect well on you or on your profession. Few monarchs of England have the kind of name recognition as Richard III, not least because of Shakespearean propaganda. If you can’t seem to get excited over this discovery, then I would humbly suggest that the problem lies more with you, not with Leicester or with that section of the media and the public who are so palpably thrilled by this find.
Professor Morley
I ‘ m almost as amazed at your reaction to the find as I am to your somewhat juvenile syntax – what does ‘whoop de doo’ mean?
Of course finding the body matters. What would you have wanted
It just to have been discovered and then disregarded? I ‘ m sure if any peasant had been found, you ‘d of expected some forensic testing, and a possible reinternment? And, presumably if said peasant had such battle wounds, hypothesis would have been formulated as to his role , his life and so on. Which is the whole point of archeology, history and so on?
That this was the body of Richard the Third enables us to verify the accuracy of historical accounts given, in relation to the Tudor ‘propaganda’ and to contemporaneous accounts – and if these accounts are shown to be largely accurtate this might have significance for other accounts of the same source again, all part of the weft and weave of history, one would have thought.
If it has become amedia circus, that, presumably is the responsability of the media and of the current age itself – nothing to do snobbery, Kingships et al.
Academics can be so disappointing.
But the point is that they had organised a project in order to look for this particular body, not that they stumbled across it by accident in the course of an excavation. As I’ve said already, what bothers me is not that people should present their research to the public but that the research should be designed solely around trying to find something that they expect the public will be interested in.
[…] the day. Neville Morley, professor of ancient history at the University of Bristol, muttered on his Bristol Classics blog: “Whoop-de-doo … Why is it that a skeleton is interesting only if it’s that of a […]
JEALOUS MUCH ?? This discovery has done more for Tudor history in schools in 2 days than you’ve managed to raise the profile of whatever you study (I read a lot of history and am afraid I’ve never heard of you..) in an academic lifetime. OF COURSE IT’S INTERESTING you intellectual snob, the whole country can identify with the story of a King, no-one gives a toss (outside your discipline) about your peasants and goatherds or whatever it is you do. Your reaction smacks of sour grapes and snobbery; I hope Mick Aston gives you a right shoeing, because you deserve one.
To be fair, it is inverted snobbery: I think that peasants and goatherds are much more interesting and important than the occasional dead king.
what if it had not been the king?. the problem with archeology is that you can only dig up whats there. Can you refer me to some of your works on peasants?
I still maintain that the greater part of these programmes is in fact about ordinary people
i wasn’t thinking of the television programmes at all; I’d agree that these have often been much more interested in everyday life and ordinary people. It’s this specific Leicester project, that set out to find the body of Richard, that got my goat – and if they hadn’t found it, I’m sure they’d have made the best of it (and personally I don’t think it would be any less interesting) but it wouldn’t have got this sort of attention.
I should make it clear that I actually work on ancient Greece and Rome rather than on C15 England; I’m not claiming specific expertise in this area, simply commenting on the way that archaeological projects are conceived and presented.
Clearly, you are a little, little man, stuck in the anals of academia. Without any significant achievement in your life, you snipe at others. Clearly, you give academia a bad name.
Fascinating blog, and I agree with much of what you write, but do you not think there is a kind of irony in saying you are interested in analysing the 15th century common man rather than the elite (and hurrah for that) but yet you are dismissive of what is of interest the common man today? Surely we are one and the same?
For my part I find it all thrilling, and I am happy that this will encourage so many more people to find an enthusiasm for history.
This is a very fair point; I am delighted if anyone is interested in the past, but I do at times wish that people were more interested in different aspects of the past, and that does run the risk of appearing elitist. The optimistic view is that people get interested in the past because of this find, and then go on to get interested in all the stuff that isn’t just about kings and battles. The pessimistic view is that you need to make an effort to tell people that there is more to history than kings and battles, ‘cos otherwise they might never look outside that box. Normally archaeology is far better at this than history, which is why I suspect I was so disappointed in this case to see archaeology working in the service of very old-fashioned history.
Quick housekeeping note: I’m very happy to engage in discussion with anyone who wants to, however much you disagree with what I’ve said, the only proviso being that I don’t have infinite amounts of free time and so don’t want to keep repeating stuff I’ve already said above. If you just want to tell me what you think of me, fine, but I reserve the right to ignore your comment if it doesn’t add anything to the discussion, is no more than personal abuse and isn’t likely to be of interest to anyone else.
[…] into classic ivory-hall territory, academics like University of Bristol classicist Neville Morley have argued that the skeleton doesn’t contribute much to history at all — the skeletons of ordinary […]
[…] wasn’t all that much history there, in the sense that I understand it.” Bristol Professor Neville Morley whined that “I know it’s all about money; the publicity fluff is a means of getting funding for […]
This (http://paulmullins.wordpress.com/2013/02/05/popularizing-archaeology-richard-iii-and-archaeological-theater/) is a really interesting discussion of the presentational aspects of this event, with more general reflections on the implications for archaeology in general; highly recommended.
A point that’s not mentioned very often is how exciting it is to be able to put a name on a body from this period. Further studies of his teeth, amongst other things, might reveal a lot about the 15th cent. diet of a king, hip deformation might give away information about horseback riding practices etc etc. It’s not the fact that he is Richard III that’s so important; rather, it’s the fact that we have one precisely datable specimen of the very highest nobility of the country to study in relation to other bodies of the same period.
Putting aside the debate about the relative historical significance of the discovery, the personal abuse against Prof. Morley in the blog’s comments is appalling. He is one of the great ancient historians of this generation whose books have significantly contributed to the advancement of the discipline. Calling him “jealous” is just a cheap, easy way out of a complicated argument.
Absolutely: it’s not that the skeleton itself is at all uninteresting – I first got interested in the past because of a skeleton, specifically one that was on display somewhere near the entrance of the Museum of London – but that it all depends on what questions you ask about it, how it fits into wider debates and so forth.
As for the abuse, well, that’s the internet for you; I’m mainly relieved that it’s so mild compared with the appalling stuff that gets directed against someone like Mary Beard, and of course I do have the power simply not to approve the comment.
Gabrielle
I agree. The abuse and name-calling is disgraceful and infantile. It has noo place here. The fact that Prof Morley has engaged so freely and generously with his time and views in this discussion has been, for my part, much appreciated. We’ve had had a civilised and energetic exchange of ideas and parted company on some issues. That’s historical and historiographical debate for you and long may it be so.
I’m proud to be an old-fashioned historian, but I always appreciate the benefits of disciplines working and talking together. Not least beacuse we test each other’s mettle and challenge each others views and preconceptions.
What sorts of ‘popular’ history do I like? I’m going to take another opportunity to promote this fantastic documentary (and not just because I have a 30-second cameo, summarising the plot of an Aristophanes play):
Just a quick note to say that I’m in London tomorrow and then off to Germany until next weekend, with little change of getting onto the internet, so will be unable to approve or respond to comments for the next week and a half. Thankfully things seem to have quietened down a bit.
[…] is the discovery and identification of this skeleton going to make to anything?”, says classicist Neville Morley. His answer? “It’s all about […]
I found it fascinating, surprising and of great personal interest. I love history and archeology both although I am not a qualified scholar in either field. But anything that inflames curiosity is likely to attract young people to the field, people who will grow up to be tomorrow’s serious scholars. I cannot see the problem of publicizing with a little hyperbolic excitement and romance facts and deeds that can attract interest which may lead a minority to explore our past on a deeper level. Why would someone want to roll their eyes about that?
I was first curious about Richard III some fifty years ago as a young teenager. It was a lovely surprise for me to see the discussion come into the public eye with such a vengeance in my dotage.
Have a sense humor and a little joy that people are able to get excited about the politics, life, and times of a person dead for over 500 years.
[…] Neville Morley, at the University of Bristol weighs in to show us that scholars can really muster sarcasm. And even base it on scholarly […]
[…] research) than with pursuing a genuinely intellectual field of enquiry.” Bristol archaeologist Neville Morley likewise cautioned about the pressure to demonstrate “impact” and court popular media shape scholarly questions: […]
[…] then there is the history… Like Neville Morley and Charlotte Higgins, I’m still really wanting to know what history this really adds to […]