print from 1530 onwards, this was piecemeal. 10 Foxe’s text gathered many of these works and formed them into a cohesive narrative, functioning in the same way as the memory of the human mind. As such, the lives, deaths, and beliefs of the lollards are preserved in this book, and as the book became a semi-official history of the Church of England, so too the lollards became part of that history. Foxe’s Acts and Monuments had become a key to culturalmemory, 11 precisely what Foxe had intended when writing it; after all, the book’s title proclaimed not just the
Buchanan and Margaret R. Miles (eds), Immaculate and Powerful: The Female in Sacred Image
and Social Reality (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1985), pp. 173–200.
42 See, for example, Sally Cuneen, In Search of Mary: The Woman and the Symbol (London:
Random House, 2010), p. 256; Adams, Our Lady, p. 89.
43 Nicola J. Watson, ‘Gloriana Victoriana: Victoria and the culturalmemory of Elizabeth I’,
in Margaret Homans and Adrienna Munich (eds), Remaking Queen Victoria (Cambridge:
Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp. 79–104, explores another way in which Victoria’s
already part of a vivid culturalmemory of Lancashire witchcraft.
Ten-year-old Edmund Robinson, the main accuser of the second generation of witches, stepped into the child-witness role previously occupied by the nine-year-old Jennet Device at the first trial. His testimony was imbued with memories and stories of what had gone before. He later admitted that ‘he had heard neighbours talk of a witch feast that was kept at Mocking Tower in Pendle Forest about twenty years since and thereupon he framed those tales concerning the persons aforesaid
to take part in the main Holocaust commemoration event. Explicitly linking this decision to the politics of the Middle East, this public conflict situated culturalmemories of European antisemitism in a competitive relationship with recognition of
histories of ‘Western’ colonial violence (Macdonald 2005).
14 This drew on the controversial working definition of antisemitism produced by the
European Union Monitoring Centre on Racism and Xenophobia (EUMC). The outlawing of analogies was also emphasised by the UJS antisemitism guide, which
explained: ‘The murder of
-Ireland 44: 1 & 2 (spring/summer 2009),
8 Dougherty, ‘Nuala O’Faolain’, p. 60.
9 Breda Gray, ‘Breaking the silence: emigration, gender, and the making
of Irish culturalmemory’, in Modern Irish Autobiography: Self, Nation and Society, ed. Liam Harte (New York, NY: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007), p. 115.
10 Liam Harte, ‘Introduction: autobiography and the Irish cultural
moment’, in Modern Irish Autobiography, p. 2. Writing on the abundance of Irish memoirs in the late twentieth century, Denis Sampson
argues that ‘the recovery and articulation of childhood serves a
removed, or at least made unavailable to those who wanted
to practise it overtly? Conversion, in other words, to what and from what?
Among historians there has long been something of a schism between those
who think that Catholicism (as a form of religious identity) in later sixteenthcentury England was primarily a residual attachment to the past, a popular
culturalmemory which could not be extirpated by the reforming agencies of
the state and, on the other hand, those who regard it (the real thing, that is) as
the product of evangelical conversion/change of religion
arising from the HERA project (2010–13)
on ‘Culturalmemory and the resources of the past’: M. de Jong, ‘Carolingian
political discourse and the biblical past: Hraban, Dhuoda, Radbert’, in C. Gantner,
R. McKitterick and S. Meeder (eds), The Resources of the Past in Early Medieval
Europe (Cambridge, 2015), 87–102.
M. de Jong, ‘Imitatio morum: the cloister and clerical purity in the Carolingian
world’, in M. Frassetto (ed.), Medieval Purity and Piety. Essays in Medieval Clerical
Celibacy and Religious Reform (New York/London, 1998), 49–80; M. de Jong, ‘An
de cupiditate Ambrose Autpertus did not address his criticism to a monastic
audience but to the Lombard nobility (both inside and outside the cloister)
and their cultural memory
In one case Ambrose Autpertus threatens the rich with the punishment
that they will have to expect from God, the Lord of the poor: their bones and
their flesh will burn in the graves, something that we are told had happened
recently (nuper).58 We do not know which source the author may have drawn
on here, and therefore it remains uncertain what exactly he is trying to convey. Probably he
that ‘abandoned [Catholic] symbols or practices do not simply disappear from
the mental landscape’, but can attain a new cultural meaning in secular contexts and in particular in poetry.9 According to Mazzola, ‘Renaissance literature
might therefore be approached in terms of a sacred history of lost ideas, and
read in terms of sacred signs which were downplayed or even disowned.’10 Such
arguments are based on a concept of culturalmemory that includes repressed
and censored cultural practices. If we understand culture as a palimpsest of
A world of difference: religion, literary form, and the negotiation of conflict in early modern England
Jonathan Baldo and Isabel Karremann
valuation of ancient forms
of commemoration and of remembering and forgetting themselves. Over
the past two decades memory studies have seen a growth in interest parallel to that experienced by religion, and it is perhaps no accident that the two
areas have developed concurrently. The two approaches to the cultural study
of conflict within early modern England are so closely connected that it is not
possible to treat the issue of culturalmemory in early modern England without taking into account religion, without considering, for example, the widespread cultural