Showing posts with label Pope Paul III. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pope Paul III. Show all posts

Thursday, June 22, 2023

A Jewish Physician

Article One of King Henry III's 1253 Statute of Jewry allowed Jews to stay in England so long as they served the king in some capacity. There were financial advantages to having Jews around, since they were not limited by the Biblical injunction against usury (charging high interest on loans) when lending to non-Jews. Usury created a dilemma for many: usury was not to be allowed, and yet Jewish lenders were an important source of funding for some.

Another dilemma for Christian Europeans in the Middle Ages was the idea that Jews were not to be fraternized with, and yet they were often the best physicians. One example of this was mentioned here, Jacob Mantino ben Samuel (died 1549).

Jacob's family was from Tortosa, Spain, but were forced to flee in 1492 because of the Alhambra Decree. Jacob studied medicine at Padua and Bologna, staying in Bologna to set up his practice. His translations of scientific works from Hebrew to Latin brought him to the attention of the court of Pope Clement VII. War in 1527 (between the Holy Roman Empire and Protestants) caused him to settle in Verona, where the Catholic bishop protected him. When the bishop went to Rome, however, Jacob left Verona and settled in Venice.

Jacob had many influential clients: ambassadors from France and England, papal dignitaries, and other wealthy local patrons. Despite medieval culture's antipathy toward Jews, his clients made an appeal to Venice's ruling Council of Ten. The appeal—which was granted—was to exempt Jacob from wearing the yellow that was intended to denote Jews in public. Originally this was temporary, but later was made permanent.

Jacob later went to Rome, acquiring great influence and becoming personal physician to Pope Paul III in 1534. In 1544 he returned to Venice, where once again he was exempted from wearing yellow. Accompanying the Venetian ambassador to Damascus, he died in 1549.

Why was he exempted from wearing yellow? Was it a desire on the part of his clients to not be seen associating with a Jew? Or was it for a slightly more kind-hearted reason: they understood the insult of being forced to wear yellow and wanted to spare the feelings of a man they had come to respect? Perhaps a little of both. He was not unique in the Middle Ages: Jewish doctors and Jewish medicine were regarded very highly. We'll delve into that a little more deeply tomorrow.

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Changing the Year

[Notate bene: this post is based on one that originally appeared on 30 June 2012.]

Pope Paul III, as played by
Peter O'Toole in "The Tudors"
In 2012, June 30th had one extra second added to it. This is only the latest in a long list of calendar corrections. We'll avoid the modern arguments about what actually constitutes a "year" (a problem resolved by designer of the Jalali calendar) and go back to a simpler time.

Readers of this blog are probably familiar with the pope's work to "fix" the calendar when he realized that the Julian calendar was "off" by several days. Sure, the Julian took into account that a "year" is actually 365 and a quarter days, but it wasn't exactly a quarter-day off, and so adding a day every four years wasn't sufficient to even things out. Every 131 years, the solstices and equinoxes would be off by a day. This was a real problem for the Church, because over the centuries Easter started shifting to summer, rather than spring.

Pope Paul III (1468-1549) saw the problem and gathered several astronomers to develop reforms.* Then Paul III died, five popes came and went, and in 1572 Pope Gregory XIII was elected and found himself faced with a growing problem and several possible solutions. He mulled it over for a few years, and then declared to the world:
  • The Leap Day would move to after February 28 (it had been tucked in before February 25).
  • The date of Easter would be calculated differently.
  • A Leap Year that is divisible by 400 will not have a Leap Day.
  • Ten days needed to be omitted from the calendar, to bring it back into alignment with the solstices. Accordingly, in 1582, the day after Thursday, October the 4th, was Friday the 15th....and then everything was fine. Except when it isn't, like when we have to add an extra second here or there. (And can you imagine trying to explain to someone 1000 years ago that the year gained about 45 seconds every 10 millennia because the Earth's rotation was slowing?)
The 1582 change gave rise to a slight oddity for historians, because technically, every date prior to October 4th, 1582 is a Julian date, but also has a corresponding Gregorian date that is several days different. How you count it depends on whether you consider the date to be just a label given by those who were there at the time, or a certain number of days prior to the present day. Or it's important if you want to declare the anniversary of an event.

Anyway, the extra second was added just before midnight. You may not have noticed it, but you can say you lived at a time when a minute was 61 seconds long!

*Copernicus had dedicated his work De revolutionibus orbium coelestium [On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres] to Pope Paul III, hoping it would save him from potential hostility for his radical thoughts. Had Paul called him, Copernicus probably would have come running to join the team of calendar reformers; alas, he had died in 1542.

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Changing Time

Since today will have one extra second added to it, I thought it would be a good time to talk about calendar corrections in history. We'll avoid the modern arguments about what actually constitutes a "year" and go back to a simpler time.

Readers of this blog are probably familiar with the pope's work to "fix" the calendar when he realized that the Julian calendar was "off" by several days. Sure, the Julian took into account that a "year" is actually 365 and a quarter days, but it wasn't exactly a quarter-day off, and so adding a day every four years wasn't sufficient to even things out. Every 131 years, the solstices and equinoxes would be off by a day. This was a real problem for the Church, because over the centuries Easter started shifting to summer, rather than spring.

Pope Paul III (1468-1549) saw the problem and gathered several astronomers to develop reforms.* Then Paul III died, five popes came and went, and in 1572 Pope Gregory XIII was elected and found himself faced with a growing problem and several possible solutions. He mulled it over for a few years, and then declared to the world:
  • The Leap Day would move to after February 28 (it had been tucked in before February 25).
  • The date of Easter would be calculated differently.
  • A Leap Year that is divisible by 400 will not have a Leap Day.
  • Ten days needed to be omitted from the calendar, to bring it back into alignment with the solstices. Accordingly, in 1582, the day after Thursday, October the 4th, was Friday the 15th.
...and then everything was fine. Except when it isn't, like when we have to add an extra second here or there. (And can you imagine trying to explain to someone 1000 years ago that the year gained about 45 seconds every 10 millenia because the Earth's rotation was slowing?)

The 1582 change gave rise to a slight oddity for historians, because technically, every date prior to October 4th, 1582 is a Julian date, but also has a corresponding Gregorian date that is several days different. How you count it depends on whether you consider the date to be just a label given by those who were there at the time, or a certain number of days prior to the present day. Or its important if you want to declare the anniversary of an event.

Anyway, enjoy your extra second; it will be added just before midnight, so feel free to stay up so you can say you remember the time when a minute was 61 seconds long!

*Copernicus had dedicated his work De revolutionibus orbium coelestium (On the Revolutions of the Celestial Spheres) to Pope Paul III, hoping it would save him from potential hostility for his radical thoughts. Had Paul called, Copernicus probably would have come running to join the team of calendar reformers; alas, he had died in 1542.