Vale of York Hoard

The Vale of York Hoard was the largest hoard of Viking coins since the Cuerdale Hoard (you will see the words "largest" and "Cuerdale" again in the very near future). The illustration shows the silver bowl in which someone decided to stash and bury over 600 silver coins and other artifacts in 927CE.

It was discovered in 2007 by a father-son team using metal detectors in an unplowed field. They brought the find intact to the British Museum. An archaeological dig in the spot shortly after revealed no sign of a settlement, suggesting that the person who hid it went far afield to keep it away from others.

The silver bowl had been lined with gold, and filled with 617 silver coins and 65 other artifacts, including hacksilver and a gold arm ring. The whole had been enclosed in sheets of lead to preserve it. The coins were not all of the same minting: there were coins with Christian, Islamic, and Norse pagan symbols. Dating the coins to the late 9th and early 10th century gave a date after which the hoard could not have been assembled.

The variety of sources for the coins was not the only surprise. The owner was widely traveled, or was the recipient of widely traveled goods. The silver vessel seems to have come from a Carolingian artist, and one coin is a dirham, from Samarkand (present-day Uzbekistan).

How did research lead to such a specific date for burial as 927? In that year, Æthelstan captured York from the Vikings, the final stage of his campaign to recapture Britain from the Vikings. In July of that year he met with the kings of Scotland and Wales to receive their acknowledgement of his authority. He struck silver coins commemorating himself as EDELSTAN REX TO BRIE ("Æthelstan, King of all Britons"). One of these coins in mint condition exists in the hoard, suggesting that it was one of the last additions to the collection and the hoard would have been hidden shortly after.

The Vale of York Hoard (also called the Harrogate Hoard and the Vale of York Viking Hoard) gives a glimpse into the economic breadth of early 10th century Britain. Labeled officially as a "treasure," it had to be offered to museums (instead of kept by the finder or given to descendants of the original owners). Valued at a little over 1.4 million dollars, it was purchased jointly by the British Museum and the York Museums Trust. It is displayed now in the Yorkshire Museum.

Now, let's look at another "largest" hoard, the Staffordshire Hoard.

What Is Hacksilver?

Silver has always been valuable as a unit of exchange, but it would be wrong to assume silver was always in the form of coins or small (or large) bars. It might be shaped into bracelets or chains or other items, such as a decorative pin or brooch, etc.

Those who wanted silver—for themselves or to trade—did not always need a pin or a bracelet, however. Sometimes it was only necessary to have enough silver of sufficient value to exchange for what you wanted. If the item you wished to purchase was worth less silver than the weight of the silver item in your hand, what would you do? Simple: you would hack off the amount you need.

Hacksilver (from German "hacksilber," meaning exactly what it looks like) refers to pieces of silver that are incomplete, hacked from a larger chunk or finished item, or simply from a time prior to coin-making becoming the norm. The picture above comes from the British Museum, and if you care to click this link, you can see close-ups of many pieces of hacksilver and their sizes.

Picts and Vikings collected—through pillaging, but also through trade—hacksilver—it was easier than finding and mining and smelting ore on their own, and some of the largest hoards of hacksilver are connected to those groups. The Traprain Law Treasure (Traprain holds an ancient hill fort in Scotland), found in 1919, contains 53 pounds of Late Roman silver tableware, all of high quality silver and all sliced up into smaller pieces. It was either given by Romans to Picts, or taken by Picts and stashed underground.

Hacksilver was not just a Pictish and Viking trend; silver was considered valuable long before it was turned into coins. What was Southern Phoenicia has produced several hoards of hacksilver dating as far back as 1200BCE. The collection of these sites is known as the Cisjordan Corpus. The silver came from Sardinia and Spain, showing that there was trade across the length of the Mediterranean a very long time ago.

Here's some interesting trivia: the Russian unit of currency, the ruble, is derived from the verb "rubit" (рубить), meaning "to chop." Hacksilver is a well-known concept in a popular computer game series.

Speaking of huge collections of valuable metals tucked away long ago and found in modern times, let's go treasure hunting and look at some hoards, starting with the Vale of York Hoard.

Pictish Metalwork

Besides an impressive array of carved stone slabs, the Picts also did some sophisticated metalwork. One important piece is the Whitecleuch Chain, found in Scotland in 1869.

Dated to between 400 and 800 CE, the Chain is made from 22 pies of linked silver rings with a totals length of almost 20 inches. The piece that encloses the chain, making it a necklace, is inscribed with Pictish symbols, notably a double-disk and a zigzag pattern (looking like a plant stalk) from Class I and Class II patterns. The patterns on this are similar to those found on a silver plaque in the Norrie's Law Hoard.

Norrie's Law Hoard is one of the largest Pictish hoards ever found. Found in 1819 on the Largo Estate in Fife, Scotland, it originally was 170 pieces of silver coins, jewelry, and artifacts totaling 28 pounds—alas, much of it was given away or melted down. The hoard includes a silver plaque with a near-identical depiction of the same design found on the Whitecleuch Chain, suggesting a serious importance to this particular pattern. A similar design is found on a carved stone at Falkland.

There are 11 chains (or fragments of chains) found in Britain (four in Scotland) that are considered Pictish. They are assumed to have belonged to people of high status, as supposedly would the Norrie's law plaque.

As with Pictish stone carving, Pictish metalwork also can be divided into classes or phases. The earlier phase is mostly silver objects with some enamel decoration. The Norrie's Law Hoard falls into this category Later, there evolved a variety of styles (likely influenced by their neighbors) of spirals, interlace, filigree with glass insets (note that glass requires a higher furnace heat than silver).

A question you would not think to ask is "where did they get the silver?" The Picts did not have a significant mining operation, so they had to find silver that someone else had mined and purified. Tomorrow, let's talk about hacksilver.

Pictish Art

Much of existing Pictish art is carved on standing stones and falls into three "classes."

The oldest art falls into Class I (dated to the 6th through 9th centuries) and consists of primitive stone slabs (irregular shapes, un-smoothed surface) with simple geometric figures and some naturalistic figures (animals). Some shown here (see illustration) have no clear interpretation, and may have been used as boundary markers or to identify certain clans.

The designs were incised first with a simple rough punch and hammer, and then the line was widened and deepened with a chisel. The incised lines are smooth, so were likely rubbed with stone to eliminate roughness.

Second row, far-right in the illustration is what's called the "Pictish beast," but its identification is the source of much debate. Whatever it was, it had some significance since it accounts for 40% of all animal figures in Pictish stone carving. It has been described as a kelpie, a seahorse, a dolphin, or some monster; some have even suggested it represents the Loch Ness monster.

Class II stones are roughly rectangular and have symbols that are visibly linked with Christianity. They are often referred to as cross slabs because they depict crosses on one or both sides. They include Celtic geometric knot work as well. They date to the 8th and 9th centuries, so they started to appear prior to the disappearance of Class I carvings. Carving in Class II went beyond simple incising and brought the images out in relief.

Class III graduated to sculpture, in that the rectangular slab was not a canvas on which to carve a design: it was stone from which an actual shape was to be freed. Class III also abandons the pre-Christian symbols and lines, becoming similar to what was being produced by their Gaelic neighbors

The Picts also did some impressive metalwork, which I'll talk about next time.

Burghead Fort

On the Moray Firth in Scotland is the remains of a Pictish fort, called Burghead Fort because of its proximity to the small town of Burghead. Pictured here is a 3D rendering made by the University of Aberdeen after extensive archaeological work.

What we know of the Pictish presence in what is now Scotland does not suggest that they tended toward collecting in large population centers; settlements—if any—around royal forts were the norm. If there were a capital city for the Picts, however, this was it.

Carbon dating shows the main walls constructed perhaps as early as the 3rd century, but additional layers of walls were added over time. A Late Bronze Age spearhead and a coin from Nero's time suggest that the place may have been used earlier and taken over by Picts: its location on a promontory made it easily defensible. It fell out of use after the time of the Viking raids.

It would have taken a lot of effort to conquer: the walls were eight meters thick and six meters high. Oak logs were nailed together with 8" iron spikes to make a framework which was then filled with stone and rubble. The construction makes clear that whomever wanted it built had access to a very large workforce.

It was geographically at the center of the Pictish Kingdom of Fortriu. It seems that Fortriu was the most powerful of the Pictish kingdoms, and Burghead was likely the seat of its kings. Early records sometimes refer to Fotriu as if it encompassed all of Pictland, suggesting its prominence. Adomnán's Life of Columba describes the fort of a Pictish king as being situated where Burghead is. Bede describes the same king as rex potentissimus or "very powerful king," further suggesting that whomever ruled Burghead was more powerful than other Pictish kings.

In the 19th century, its remains were dismantled for their materials. About 30 stone panels carved with images of bulls were noted before being incorporated into the quay walls of the harbor. The handful remaining above water are in museums and the Burghead Visitor Center.*

...which I guess is as good a segue as any to Pictish art and artifacts, for which you'll have to check this space tomorrow.

*Their website has an outline of one of the carved bulls on its main page.

Pictish Culture

As mentioned previously, the Picts were not necessarily a homogeneous culture, but the archaeological record can help us determine a few things about what was important to them. Materially, they are very similar to their British, Gaelic, and even (invading) Anglo-Saxon neighbors.

Large herds of sheep and pigs were maintained, and probably moved from highlands all summer to lowlands in the winter months in a practice common to pastoral societies called transhumance. Having horses and cattle signified wealth. Later stone carvings depict Picts hunting with falcons as well as dogs. (Their neighbors did not use falcons—or at least did not commit that practice to image or writing.)

Regarding the Pictish diet: meat and milk were a part of their diet, based on the evidence of livestock. Archaeology reveals the crops associated with their territory: barley, oats, rye, and wheat were common grains. They also grew kale and cabbages, onions and leeks, peas and beans, and turnips. Fish and shellfish were available on their coastlines.

The earliest Pictish carvings—an example is shown here from Skye, dated between 200 and 400 CE—have geometric figures that have defied interpretation. We don't know about their spiritual beliefs prior to their Christianization, but the assumption is that they were engaged in polytheism similar to their Celtic neighbors. Palladius is given credit of their conversion.

A large Pictish fort has been excavated at Burghead in Scotland, but evidence of Pictish urban settings has not been found. Settlements around royal forts have been noted, but there is no evidence of villages or towns on their own. They took advantage of the existence of Iron Age brochs—round, tall, hollow-walled structures built of stone—and of crannogs—Neolithic Age artificial islands built over water on wooden piles. 

If the Picts had a capital, it would be the fort at Burghead, which has been excavated and studied and had a 3D model made by the University of Aberdeen. Let's take a look at that tomorrow.

Who Were the Picts, Really?

It is likely that the name for the Picts really is related to the modern word "picture." The first occurrence of the word was in a Latin speech that mentioned the "picti"; it is interpreted as "painted," referring to the custom of tattooing. A further account from 404CE refers to designs on the bodies of Picts defeated in battle. Isidore of Seville mentions the Picts painting themselves.

To be frank, the evidence for this practice is scarce. Monument stones that portray Picts do not include any markings that look like body paint or tattoos, and the folk that lived closer to them (rather than tried to invade and conquer them, like the Romans), such as Irish poets, do not mention tattoos.

There are other difficulties in identifying what the Picts were like. The various groups identified as "Picts" by outsiders over time have little resemblance to each other, suggesting that what we in the Modern Era have been told from old writings—mostly starting with the 7th century—was "Pictish" either referred to several different groups or Pictish culture was far from uniform.

Bede (672 - 735) said they came from Scythia (on the northern coast of the Black Sea) and wound up accidentally on the northern coast of Ireland, where local leaders convinced them to go settle in northern Britain. This unlikely story was repeated in the 10th century Pictish Chronicle, which attempted to explain the Picts and started the story thousands of years earlier. It names their leader as Cruithne (Gaelic for Pict). It makes up seven sons for Cruithne, whose names correspond to seven areas of Pictland. This fiction was used later to argue the existence of seven separate Pictish kingdoms. There were probably more smaller kingdoms with their own leaders who formed alliances with neighbors or gave allegiance to a more powerful ruler adjacent to them.

What is true is that the Picts lived in the area north of Glasgow and Edinburgh, the area described by Roman writers as Caledonia. They were probably dominated by the area to their south, Northumbria, because Northumbria for that time was the most powerful kingdom in Great Britain. That all changed in the 800s with the arrival of the Vikings, who destroyed the kingdom of Northumbria and created panic in all parts of Great Britain. In the early 900s, the area started to be called the Kingdom of Alba and was becoming "Gaelic-ized." In a hundred years or so, northern Alba was all Gaelic Scots, and references to Picts faded from the records.

Tomorrow we'll delve into what can be determined about Pictish culture.

The Law of Innocents

Besides Brehon Laws, Ireland had Cáin laws (Cáin="law"; redundant, I know) that were made with the help of church figures. Adomnán of Iona (c.625 - 704) is responsible for a set of rules that has been called the first human rights treaty. The Cáin Adomnáin, the "Law of Adomnán," is also called the "Law of Innocents" because it was designed to protect women, children, and noncombatants during times of warfare.

It was produced in 697 from the Synod of Birr, a gathering of clerics and secular figures, Irish, Pictish, and Dal Riatan. It was likely called by Adomnán himself, based on his authority as the abbot of Iona.

Although designed to protect the innocent, it was unforgiving of the guilty. Section 33 of one of the two remaining manuscripts (both of a later date than the 7th century) is particularly harsh, and relates how an angel demanded rules to protect women:

Go forth into Ireland, and make a law in it that women be not in any manner killed by men, through slaughter or any other death, either by poison, or in water, or in fire, or by any other beast, or in a pit, or by dogs, but that they shall die in their lawful bed... 

For whoever slays a woman shall be condemned to a twofold punishment, that is, his right hand and his left foot shall be cut off before death, and then he shall die, and his kindred shall pay seven full cumals*, and one-seventh part of the penance. If, instead of life and amputation, a fine has been imposed, the penance is fourteen years, and fourteen cumals shall be paid. But if a host has done it, every fifth man up to three hundred shall be condemned to that punishment; if few, they shall be divided into three parts. The first part of them shall be put to death by lot, hand and foot having been first cut off; the second part shall pay fourteen full cumals; the third shall be cast into exile beyond the sea, under the rule of a hard regimen;

Women were not assumed to be angels, either. A woman who murdered, stole from a church, or tried arson, would be condemned to be pushed from shore in a boat with one oar and some gruel. This was considered a way to avoid killing a woman, and left her fate up to God (shades of Antigone!).

Section 50 deals with non-death offenses:

If it be rape of a maiden, seven half-cumals (is the fine) for it. If a hand (is put) upon her or in her girdle, ten ounces** for it. If a hand (is put) under her dress to defile her, three ounces and seven cumals for it. If there be a blemish on her head or her eyes or in the face or in the ear or nose or tooth or tongue or foot or hand, seven cumals are (to be paid) for it. If it be a blemish on any other part of her body, seven half-cumals are (to be paid) for it. If it be tearing of her dress, seven ounces and one cumal for it.

The Synod of Birr brought together different ethnic groups that we therefore assume were Christian. One group mentioned was the Picts, a name with which everyone may be familiar, but who were they? What was their relation Scottish and British and Irish people? Are they still around, and did they leave us any lasting monuments? Let's try to figure out what we really know about the Picts, and why were they called that? See you tomorrow.

*A cumal represented the value of three milch cows.
**The "ounces" are of silver.

Tanistry and Authority

Congal Cáech was a king of the Irish province of Ulaid (on the north east coast) in the early 7th century. Cáech means  "squinting" or "half blind." He was so-called because he was stung in the eye by a bee, and according to the Bechbretha this made him ineligible for the position of High King of Tara. His clan demanded that the eye of the beekeeper's son (he was the son of the High King Domnall mac Áedo) be put out to even the score.

This is one of the few hints we get about early Irish kingship eligibility: that the High King must be without blemish.How one could be eligible for kingship seems to follow the system of tanistry. The Tanist is the second-in-command or second-in-line after a ruler, and not necessarily a descendant. Historically, the males of the clan would choose their next leader from among all the righdamhna ("kingly material"), which could include sons of the departed ruler.

This method persisted in Ireland until the early 17th century when English common law replaced it. In Ireland today, the echo of tanistry can be heard in the title of the deputy prime minister, Tánaiste.

The illustration shows the numerous kingdoms of Ireland, with each having its own king, although often neighboring kingdoms banded together for protection from larger alliances. Political marriages between kingdoms also contributed to descendants with legitimate claims to multiple kingdoms, which could help them unite under one ruler.

Irish kings had a different set of responsibilities than other European kings. For one, they did not have the authority to create laws. The laws were worked out by the Brehons, the judges/arbitrators who wrote tracts on what was right and proper for a working society. The kings' job was to support the law, not make it up. During times of emergency a king could create a law, but this was seen as only temporary.

The king was never above the law. He was not always directly subjected to restitution, however: a designated underling would have to suffer the consequences, and would then be compensated monetarily by the king. The king could lose his status, however, if he engaged in "non-kingly" activities such as being seen doing the work of a commoner, acting cowardly in battle, or traveling without a proper retinue.

Although limited in power when it came to the law, kings could collaborate with the church in developing laws. Adomnán of Iona produced a set of laws, the Cáin Adomnáin ("Law of Innocents"), which has the names of several kings attached to it showing heir involvement and support.

The Cáin Adomnáin has been called Europe's first human rights treaty, and is worth taking a closer look...next time.

Early Irish Marriage Law

Early Irish Brehon Law, so-called because it was administered by Brehons (from Old Irish breithem ("judge"), was more interested in proper conduct for social concord rather than punishment for wrongdoing. It was a progressive system that recognized equality in many ways for women not found in other parts of Europe until centuries later.

The approach to marriage was very flexible—something that alarmed the Roman Church very much, which is why they encouraged the Anglo-Norman Invasion in the late 12th century. Several forms of union were recognized as legitimate between a man and a woman.

There were three types of marriage based on property: whether the husband, or the wife, or both equally brought assets to the marriage. Wives could keep control of their property; it did not become their husband's property. A woman could also help to keep property in the family by marrying a cousin, a level of consanguinity that the Roman Church really didn't like to see.

Polygamy (but not polyandry) was also a legitimate form of marriage. The first/principal wife had some interesting advantage in a polygamous family: not only could she simply divorce the husband if she did not like his choice of an additional wife, but she had a three-day period on the arrival of a new wife when she was allowed to beat the new woman (so long as she did not leave a mark, of course!), and the new wife was allowed to scratch back and pull hair.

A man could also have concubines, whose status in the household was much lower than any wives—but it was still a legal status. Marriages in Brehon Law did not require church involvement (although no doubt when Richard de Clare married Diarmait's daughter Aoife he used a Roman ceremony, as in the illustration above, a detail of "The Marriage of Strongbow and Aoife" by Daniel Maclise, c.1854).

Women could even initiate divorce for several reasons:

• Husband too fat for sex.
• Husband hit her hard enough to leave a mark.
• Husband boasted about their sex life in public.

The Gaelic approach to male-female unions was clearly quite different. Rulers' authority and their succession was also quite different, but that's for tomorrow.

Early Irish Law

Early Irish law was called Brehon Law, a system of civil (not criminal) rules, some of which survived until the 17th century when they were replaced with British laws.

It was called Brehon Law because it was administered by Brehons (from Old Irish breithem ("judge"), successors to Celtic Druids who acted as arbitrators in disputes, and questions of compensation and conduct.

Brehon Law recognized equality between sexes and concern for the environment. It was progressive in that it promoted restitution rather than punishment after wrongdoing. Even homicide and bodily harm were recompensed according to an established scale of value, similar to the Anglo-Saxon wergild. Payments were made to the family, not to a civil court. Capital punishment was not part of Brehon Law, unlike many other legal systems before and since, and revenge and retaliation were strongly discouraged.

The clan was the most important social unit, and the property inhabited by that clan was treated as communal when it came to resources such as bee hives, fruit trees, and water mills. The seventh-century Coibnes wisci thairidne ("The Kinship of Conducted Water") discusses the importance of water and why it belongs to all.* Land itself was rarely sold; the highest-ranking lord "rented out" not the land but the right to graze cattle on it.

The manuscripts in the Library of Trinity College, Dublin (sample shown above) offer an extensive look at this early legal system. This particular illustration is part of a discussion of Bechbretha ("bee judgments"). Honeybees were an important part of the economy: people needed honey, and monasteries needed large amounts of beeswax. Bees were protected; bee possession was sacrosanct; but if you came across a swarm of bees (a mass clinging together on a branch, waiting for the secret apian signal to fly and find a new home), you could claim it for your own and remove it for your use.

The Anglo-Norman Invasion in the 1170s started to replace Brehon Law with English Law, but Brehon Law saw a revival in the 1300s as intermarriage between the Anglo-Norman lords and Irish led to Irish-oriented noble families.

Women in marriage had more agency than in Roman Catholic countries at the time, and I'll go into marriage and divorce tomorrow.

*Even in the 20th century, James Joyce has Leopold Bloom ask "How can you own water really?" in Ulysses.

Diarmait Mac Murchada

So the inevitable invasion of Ireland by the Anglo-Norman forces of King Henry II of England was initiated by an invitation from Diarmait Mac Murchada (anglicized as Dermot MacMurrough), the one-time King of Leinster. The illustration of him here is from a copy of Gerald of Wales' Expugnatio Hibernica ("Conquest of Ireland").

Diarmait (c.1110 - May 1171) had an illustrious background. His father, Donnchadh, was King of Leinster. His great-grandmother was descended from Brian Boru. His father died while attacking the King of Dublin in 1115; succession passed to Diarmait's older brother, Enna. When the brother died in 1126, the 16-year-old Diarmait became king.

This was not welcomed by the then-High King of Ireland, Toirdelbach Ua Conchobair (Turlough O'Conor), who saw Diarmait as a potential rival. Turlough sent an ally, Tigernán Ua Ruairc (Tiernan O'Rourke), King of Meath, to harry Leinster and oust Diarmait. Tiernan started slaughtering Leinster livestock to starve the inhabitants. Diarmait was ousted, but Leinster clans brought him back in 1132, where he remained for almost 40 years.

Between 1140 and 1170, Diarmait built Abbeys at Fern and Baltinglass, Killeshin Church, and St. Saviour's Priory. He sponsored numerous convents. He also had two wives—not in succession but concurrently, as allowed in early Irish/Brehon law. (This was another reason why the Roman Church wanted stronger influence in Ireland.) His first wife was the mother of a son who later succeeded Diarmait. His second wife was the mother of a daughter, Aoife.

There was a rumor that Diarmait kidnapped Tiernan's wife, aided by Tiernan's brother who wanted Tiernan out of the way and his kingship of Meath up for grabs. Tiernan must have had issues getting along with others, since the High King actually used Diarmait's help much later to raid Tiernan's lands because Tiernan had become problematic.

In 1166, a different High King was defeated by Ruaidrí Ua Conchobair (Rory O'Conor), who deposed Diarmait by sending Tiernan (again!) to Leinster. Diarmait fled to Wales and sought support from King Henry. Henry did not wish to get directly involved, but gave permission for Diarmait to seek help from the nobility. One who agreed to help was the 2nd Earl of Pembroke, Richard de Clare, to whom Diarmait promised his daughter Aoife (Eva of Leinster) in marriage (and the kingship of Leinster after Diarmait's death).

So began the Norman invasion of Ireland. The military aid was so useful that Diarmait used it to expand his territory to Thomond. Initially it was a Cambro-Norman invasion because it was begun by Welsh lords, but it was soon followed by the Anglo-Norman invasion when Henry's own forces arrived to subdue the island and make sure the Norman lords knew to whom they owed allegiance.

One of the "beneficiaries" of the invasion was the Roman Church, allowing it to bring the Irish Church into conformity. One of the facets of Irish culture that the Church wanted to "fix" was the law that allowed Diarmait to have two wives. This Brehon Law is worth exploring further, and we will do just that next time.

Henry's Invasion of Ireland

The first mass arrival of Normans in Ireland was actually by invitation of Diarmait Mac Murchada, King of Leinster until he was deposed by the High King of Ireland, Ruaidrí Ua Conchobair. Diarmait got military aid from Richard de Clare, the 2nd Earl of Pembroke, with King Henry's permission. In exchange, Pembroke would receive Diarmait's eldest daughter's (Aoife) hand in marriage.

Offering allegiance to Henry for the support, Diarmait led Pembroke's Anglo-Norman forces around to some of the neighboring kingdoms, subduing them within weeks. That was not to be the end of it, however.

Pembroke continued to bring military forces, seizing Dublin and Waterford in 1170. With Diarmait's death in May 1171, Pembroke (by virtue of his marriage to Aoife) declared himself Lord of Leinster. This was too much for the Irish, who planned a counteroffensive, besieging Dublin and attacking the Norman-controlled Waterford and Wexford. The Normans were too strong and entrenched, however.

Five months after Diamait's death, Henry himself landed with a large army to assert control over the Irish and the Anglo-Normans, lest they tried to be too independent. He declared any of the Norman-controlled towns as crown lands and gave Pembroke Leinster as a fiefdom. Many Irish kings submitted, probably hoping to prevent further conquest, but Henry gave Meath to Hugh de Lacey, and William FitzAldhelm got Wexford.

Henry also arranged the Synod of Cashel to reform the Irish Church. Henry had the blessing of the Roman Catholic Church. The Church (especially the Archbishops of Canterbury) wanted to make sure the Irish Church was conforming properly: they had not fully adopted the Gregorian Reforms. Pope Adrian IV in a 1155 papal bull, Laudabiliter, seemed to give Henry encouragement to conquer Ireland in order to bring them to Roman rule:

That Ireland, and indeed all islands on which Christ, the sun of justice, has shed His rays, and which have received the teaching of the Christian faith, belong to the jurisdiction of blessed St. Peter and the holy Roman church is a fact beyond doubt, and one which your nobility recognises.

(Then again, Adrian IV was the only English pope, so he may have had a particular tendency to favor what he considered English causes. Curiously, Laudabiliter is frequently cited and quoted since the 13th century, but no original exists.)

This was the start of eight centuries of English/British unwelcome involvement in Ireland. It was bound to happen anyway, but curious that it was initiated by invitation. Let's go back a little further and see what Diarmait Mac Murchada, King of Leinster, was all about.

William FitzAldhelm, Governor of Ireland

The illustration is a 19th century portrayal of King Henry II of England in Waterford, greeting the Irish delegates whom he intended to place under his rule. Of course he could not be everywhere and preferred to stay in England, so he gave the administration of Ireland over to Anglo-Norman nobles. One of these was William FitzAldhelm (or FitzAdelm, or FitzAudelin, or FitzAldelm).

His family had come over with William the Conqueror in 1066. When Henry II's 1171 attack on Ireland proved successful, Henry sent FitzAldhelm and Hugh de Lacey to receive the allegiance of the King of Connaught, Rory. FitzAldhelm was put in charge of the city of Wexford, but when the Lord of Leinster, "Strongbow" (Richard de Clare, 2nd Earl of Pembroke), died in 1176, FitzAldhelm was made Henry's deputy over the whole of Ireland and ward to the earl's daughter Isabel (one of the wealthiest heiresses in Wales and Ireland).

Unfortunately for FitzAldhelm, Henry was working out how to use his sons to control his Angevin Empire. His youngest, John, was soon to be a teenager, and Henry named John the Prince of Ireland a mere year after FitzAldhelm's rule over the island, leaving FitzAldhelm Wexford and Leinster. As it turns out, however, FitzAldhelm was once again put in charge of Ireland in 1181 as Henry's dapifer ("steward").

Around that time he founded the monastery of St. Thomas theMartyr at Dublin, a monastery of Dromore, and the Abbey of Athassel in Tipperary.

Gerald of Wales gives us a description of FitzAldhelm: 

This FitzAdelm was large and corpulent, both in stature and shape, but of a reasonable height. He was a pleasant and courtly man; but whatever honours he paid to any one were always mingled with guile. There was no end of his craftiness - there was poison in the honey, and a snake in the grass. To outward appearance he was liberal and courteous, but within there was more aloes than honey.

He died in 1204/5 and was buried at the Abbey of Athassel.

How did all this come about? The taking of Ireland, I mean; it wasn't just a matter of Henry saying "Here I am; bow down." Tomorrow we'll take a look at what the Anglo-Norman Invasion of Ireland involved, and what the pope and the Irish Church thought of it.

Prince John in Ireland

Prince John (24 December 1166 - 19 October 1216) had been made Lord of Ireland by his father, Henry II, in the 1177 Council of Oxford. He took a tour of Ireland in the second half of 1185 as a first step to creating a Kingdom of Ireland as part of the Angevin Empire. 

John may have had reason to be bitter from the start. His father had sought the pope's blessing to declare John King of Ireland, but Popes Alexander III followed by Lucius III were not in agreement, so John went as "Lord" instead of his hoped-for title "King." He arrived in Waterford with 300 knights and numerous soldiers and archers in April 1185, which of course caused anxiety among the Irish who saw an army rather than a diplomatic mission.

We have Gerald of Wales to thank for details*: his Topographia Hibernica tells how John was greeted by several Gaelic Irish leaders whose long beards made John and his men first laugh and then abuse the Irish by yanking their beards. On his tour through Ireland, he promised land grants to his retainers, further angering the locals.

His supposed goal of setting up administrative structures to maintain Anglo-Norman rule was a failure. He alienated the Irish, he ran out of money to pay his men (and lost some through desertion as well as in battles against Irish forces), and he had little or no skill as an administrator. His opposition in Ireland was not all Irish, either. Hugh de Lacey was an Anglo-Norman baron who had been made Lord of Meath by Henry years earlier. John complained to Henry that de Lacey prevented John from collecting tributes from the Irish leaders. This may well be true: Lacey had established a firm presence, and John's ham-handed approach to Ireland was disrupting a comfortable, pre-existing arrangement.

The Lord of Meath was not to remain a problem for John, however: he was killed a year later by an Irishman, Giolla Gan Mathiar Ó Maidhaigh. John was immediately sent back on hearing the news to take possession of de Lacey's lands.

It is unlikely that the Anglo-Norman plan to take over Ireland would ever be considered a positive event, but John's feckless attitude on his first tour certainly was not beneficial. Of course, there was already an Anglo-Norman presence (Hugh de Lacey, for example). In fact, there was already an Anglo-Norman "Lord" of Ireland, appointed by Henry years earlier but replaced by John at the Council of Oxford. His name was William FitzAldhelm, who was actually sitting at the Council of Oxford when Henry announced John's appointment to replace William. I'll tell you about him tomorrow.

*The illustration is from a copy of the Topographia: it shows the killing of a white mare that is then made into a stew in which the new king bathes before his courtiers eat the stew. (I wouldn't make this up.)

Instruction of Princes

The British Library contains a unique manuscript, acquired from the Cotton Library, labeled Cotton Julius B XIII. It is the sole known copy of Gerald of Wales' De principis instructione ("Instruction for a Ruler").

Writing Mirrors for Princes was a fairly common theme in the Middle Ages and Renaissance—there was a strong desire for educated men to offer advice to those that would grow up to rule them. There also exists a work by a Carolingian mother, Dhuoda, who wrote a guide specifically for her son.

Gerald draws on other works besides his own experience. He quotes the Bible, Gildas, and the Itinerarium Regis Ricardi ("Journey of King Richard") an account of Richard Lionheart on the Third Crusade.

Gerald had plenty of knowledge of how royals acted as well as strong opinions on how they should. He accompanied young Prince John on a tour of Ireland in 1185. The 19-year-old Prince of Ireland was clearly in need of instruction. Gerald's assessment of John and his brothers makes clear that John's excellence was expected as a future attribute, as opposed to his brothers' already existing admirable qualities.

This is not a generic guide promoting good behavior, but a history of specific incidents in recent history. For example, he clearly lays out as exemplary behavior how Henry II so wisely negotiates with other countries, takes advice from popes and prelates, and tithes to finance the Third Crusade. He lays out the problems when Henry's sons rebelled. He also talks about other rulers, such as Barbarossa "taking the Cross." He also offers negative examples, such as deceptions perpetrated by the enemy during the Crusades, and the rebellions of Henry's sons.

And speaking of negative examples, just how bad was Prince John during the tour through Ireland? How big an impression did he make on the country he was handed? We have a bad opinion already of the time he was king, but how bad was he as a prince? Let's visit John and his first expedition to Ireland next time.

Gerald and Henry's Sons

Gerald of Wales (c.1146 - 1223) wrote about Henry II and his sons, giving a different facet to the most prominent figures in England at the time. One of his character descriptions is of a man who was Henry II's son, his namesake, and his enemy: Henry the Young King, who rebelled against his father. Although Henry tried to usurp his father's throne, Gerald paints an admirable portrait of him:

In peace, and in private life, he was courteous, affable gentle, and amiable, kindly indulgent to those by whom he chanced to be injured, and far more disposed to forgive than to punish the offenders. His disposition was so good that he could never refuse to give anything that was fitting, thinking that no one ought to leave his presence sorrowful, or disappointed of his hopes. In short, he considered that he had lost a day when he had not secured the attachment of many by various acts of liberality, and bound them to him, body and soul, by multiplied favors conferred.

This amiable and generous nature changed when it was time for war:

When in arms and engaged in war, no sooner was the helmet on his head than he assumed a lofty air, and became impetuous, bold, and fiercer than any wild beast. His triumphs were often gained more by his valor than by fortune; and he was in all respects another Hector, son of Priam, except that the one fought on behalf of his father and his country, and the other, alas! was led by evil counsels to fight against both.

Henry's second son, Richard the Lionheart, did not fare so well in Gerald's eyes:

Different as were the habits and pursuits of the two brothers, sprung from the same stock and the same root, each has merited everlasting glory and endless fame. They were both tall in stature, rather above the middle size, and of commanding aspect. In courage and magnanimity they were nearly equal; but in the character of their virtues there v as a great disparity. One was admirable for gentleness and liberality, the other distinguished himself by his severity and firmness. The one had a commendable suavity, the other gravity. One was commended for his easy temper, the other for his determined spirit. One was remarkable for his clemency, the other for his justice. The vile and undeserving found their refuge in the one, their punishment from the other. One was the shield of bad men, the other the hammer to crush them. The one was bent on martial sports, the other on serious conflicts. The one bestowed his favours on foreigners, the other on his own people; the one on all the world, the other on the worthy only. The one's ambition magnanimously compassed the world; the other coveted, to good purpose, what was rightfully his own.

Geoffrey (prince of Brittany) and John (Prince of Ireland), get less attention; John especially seems to get the "we hope he will rise to the excellence of his brothers" treatment:

The Armorican-British and the Irish dominions proclaim the well-merited praises of the two others. Both of them were of rather short stature, a little below the middle height, and for their size were well-shaped enough. Of these, the one is already distinguished by his virtues, and has attained the highest honours; the other will. The one is well versed in military affairs; the other has to be instructed in them. ... The one is already great in action, the other leads us to expect he will be great; for not degenerating from his high origin, he has equaled his most noble brothers in worth as far as his powers admit.

Later in life, Gerald spent his time writing and making a few trips to Ireland and Rome. Some of his works were devotional instruction, but he did write a text designed to advise princes how to act. (I am tempted to think he wrote this because of his time spent with Prince John.) We'll take a closer look at his advice tomorrow.

Itinerary Through Wales

Gerald of Wales (c.1146 - c.1223) provided us with extensive information on Ireland and Wales and England of his time. Serving several Plantagenet kings, he traveled in their service and wrote about what he saw and was told. Two of his several works were the Descriptio Cambriae ("Description of Wales") and the Itinerarium Cambriae ("Itinerary Through Wales"). He claims fairness in his treatment of the subject of his homeland, splitting the Descriptio into two parts, first the virtues of the Welsh, then their vices.

His writing for the Itinerarium through Wales is also better informed than his Topographia of Ireland, since he spent a little time in only a few Irish locations and gathered stories from men he deemed "reliable." He was more familiar with Wales, and he did in fact have an itinerary (see the illustration).

This tour took place while he was accompanying the Archbishop of Canterbury in 1188, preaching to raise a Third Crusade. Gerald writes the Itinerarium almost like a daily journal, recording sights and experiences as he came across them, so it is a more reliable account of day-to-day life in Wales in the last years of the 12th century, and the remnants of Roman Britain:

We went through Caerleon, passing far away on our left Monmouth Castle and the great Forest of Dean, which is across the Wye, but still on this side of the Severn, and which supplies Gloucester with venison and iron ore. We spent the night in Newport. We had to cross the River Usk three times. 

Caerleon is the modern name of the City of the Legions. In Welsh ‘caer’ means a city or encampment. The legions sent to this island by the Romans had the habit of wintering in this spot, and so it came to be called the City of the Legions. Caerleon is of unquestioned antiquity. It was constructed with great care by the Romans, the walls being built of brick. 

You can still see many vestiges of its one-time splendour. There are immense palaces, which, with the gilded gables of their roofs, once rivalled the magnificence of ancient Rome. They were set up in the first place by some of the most eminent men of the Roman state, and they were therefore embellished with every architectural conceit. There is a lofty tower, and beside it remarkable hot baths, the remains of temples and an amphitheatre. 

All this is enclosed within impressive walls, parts of which still remain standing. Wherever you look, both within and without the circuit of these walls, you can see constructions dug deep into the earth, conduits for water, underground passages and air-vents. Most remarkable of all to my mind are the stoves, which once transmitted heat through narrow pipes inserted in the side-walls and which are built with extraordinary skill. [Chapter 5]

But then comes the less reliable (but no less interesting) detail (especially since he says "in our days"):

It is worth relating that in our days there lived in the neighbourhood of this City of the Legions a certain Welshman called Meilyr who could explain the occult and foretell the future. He acquired his skill in the following way. One evening, and, to be precise, it was Palm Sunday, he happened to meet a girl whom he had loved for a long time. She was very beautiful, the spot was an attractive one, and it seemed too good an opportunity to be missed. 

He was enjoying himself in her arms and tasting her delights, when suddenly, instead of the beautiful girl, he found in his embrace a hairy creature, rough and shaggy, and, indeed, repulsive beyond words. As he stared at the monster his wits deserted him and he became quite mad. He remained in this condition for many years. Eventually he recovered his health in the church of St David’s, thanks to the virtues of the saintly men of that place. 

All the same, he retained a very close and most remarkable familiarity with unclean spirits, being able to see them, recognizing them, talking to them and calling them each by his own name, so that with their help he could often prophesy the future.

The story does not end there. He offered numerous instances of Meilyr's ability to see and speak to devils and demons and learn things from them.

Despite the more fanciful anecdotes, as a record of daily life among the Welsh and Normans, it is a valuable account for modern historians.

As I mentioned, he served several Plantagenets, and we'll take a look at what he thought of Henry II and his sons before we move on. See you tomorrow.

Funny Ireland

The Topography of Ireland by Gerald of Wales seems to have been designed to paint the Irish as an ungovernable, crude people in need of conquering, but it is also a collection of fanciful stories of what Gerald "saw" there, but of course were tales told to him by the Hibernians.

"I am aware that I shall describe some things that will seem to the reader to be either impossible or ridiculous.  But I protest solemnly that I have put down nothing in this book the truth of which I have not found out either by the testimony of my own eyes, or that of reliable men found worthy of credence and coming from the districts in which the events took place."

One of his tales about flora and fauna includes the explanation of the barnacle goose.

Another is of the bearded woman (see illustration):

Duvenald, king of Limerick, had a woman with a beard down to her navel, and also, a crest like a colt of a year old, which reached from the top of her neck down her backbone, and was covered with hair. The woman, thus remarkable for two monstrous deformities, was ... in other respects had the parts of a woman; and she constantly attended the court, an object of ridicule as well as of wonder. The fact of her spine being covered with hair, neither determined her gender to be male or female; and in wearing a long beard she followed the customs of her country, though it was unnatural in her. [Chapter 20]

He also tells the story—and this may have the ring of truth—of an island that appears and disappears:

One calm day, a large mass of earth rose to the surface of the sea, where no land had ever been seen before, to the great amazement of the islanders who observed it. Some of them said that it was a whale, or other immense sea-monster; others remarking that it continued motionless, said, "No, it is land". In order therefore to reduce their doubts to certainty, some picked young men of the island determined to approach near the spot in a boat. When however, they came so near to it that they thought they should go on shore, the island sank in the water and entirely vanished from sight. The next day it re-appeared, and again mocked the same youths with the like delusion. At length, upon their rowing towards it on the third day, they followed the advice of an older man and let fly an arrow, barbed with red-hot steel, against the island; and then landing, found it stationary and habitable. [Chapter XII]

The beginning of the story makes one think it will turn into another anecdote of Fastitocalon, but the tales of St. Brendan make me think it is possible that the seafaring Hibernians sailed far enough westward and northward to see a volcanic eruption forming an island, as the 20th century saw the new island of Surtsey form off the southern coast of Iceland.

Gerald had a more kindly attitude toward his homeland of Wales, and that will be our next topic.

The Topography of Ireland

This title is a joke, since Gerald of Wales' Topographia Hibernica ("Topography of Ireland") was mostly history.* It did include a map, seen here. To properly orient the map, you need to see it rotated 90° clockwise; the largest mass is England with Scotland at the top, the middle-sized mass is Ireland, and the small oval is Iceland.

Gerald visited Ireland twice between 1183 and 1186. Although his Welsh heritage put him at odds politically with the Norman kings of England, starting with Henry II, he was open to serving them in other matters. His trips to Ireland were official, serving the royal family as advisor. He used the experience to write two works on Ireland, the second being the Expugnatio Hibernica ("Conquest of Ireland"), the story of Henry's military campaign there. Both works were revised several times during Gerald's lifetime.

He did not travel extensively in Ireland, spending most of his time in Waterford and Cork during the time of the Topographia. Part one of this three-part work is about topography: landscaper, as well as flora and fauna. He is certainly describing things he has not witnessed personally, since he describes the Island of Inishglora, where corpses do not rot, and where you can find generations of people all in a state of perpetual "freshness."

However untrustworthy his descriptions of Ireland may be, the work served an English political purpose by painting a picture of the Irish as primitive and in "need" of governance:

The Irish are a rude people, subsisting on the produce of their cattle only, and living themselves like beasts – a people that has not yet departed from the primitive habits of pastoral life. In the common course of things, mankind progresses from the forest to the field, from the field to the town and to the social conditions of citizens; but this nation, holding agricultural labour in contempt, and little coveting the wealth of towns, as well as being exceedingly averse to civil institutions – lead the same life their fathers did in the woods and open pastures, neither willing to abandon their old habits or learn anything new. They, therefore, only make patches of tillage; their pastures are short of herbage; cultivation is very rare and there is scarcely any land sown. This want of tilled fields arises from the neglect of those who should cultivate them; for theirs are large tracts which are naturally fertile and productive.

Very few sorts of fruit-trees are found in this country, a defect arising not from the nature of the soil, but from want of industry of planting them;

There are also veins of various kinds of metals ramifying in the bowels of the earth, which, from the same idle habits, are not worked and turned to account. Even gold, which the people require in large quantities and still covet in a way that speaks [to] their Spanish origin, is brought here by the merchants who traverse the ocean for the purposes of commerce. They neither employ themselves in the manufacture of flax or wool or in any kind of trade or mechanical art; but abandoning themselves to idleness, and immersed, in sloth, their greatest delight is to be exempt from toil, their richest possession, the enjoyment of liberty.

The Topographia was considered justification for England's treatment of the Irish for centuries.

Before moving on, next time we'll look at some of the more colorful reports he made of Ireland.

*You can see the manuscript online at the National Library of Ireland here.

Gerald of Wales

Gerald of Wales (Giraldus Cambrensis, c.1146 - 1223) was a priest and a writer of history. That could be the introduction for many of the folk mentioned in this blog. Gerald was a bit different, however, in that he was the offspring of very prominent nobility and was employed by royalty for much of his life.

He was of both Norman and Welsh descent, a child of the conquerors and the conquered. Educated at the Benedictine house at Gloucester, he was employed by Becket's successor, Richard of Dover, and trusted to manage affairs in Wales such as abuses of consanguinity laws and Welsh church finances. After revealing the existence of a mistress of the archdeacon of Brecon, Gerald was appointed to replace him. The position had a small estate at Llanddew, allowing Gerald to collect tithes of wool and cheese.

His lifelong goal was to become Bishop of St. Davids in Pembrokeshire, Wales. When his uncle (then Bishop of St. David's) died in 1176, the chapter nominated Gerald. King Henry II rejected Gerald's appointment; he may have thought Gerald would be too independent—Wales was hoping to split from the authority of the Archbishop of Canterbury—and Henry had just got over the troubles he had as a result of Becket's martyrdom. Henry appointed a loyal Norman retainer, Peter de Leia. Gerald was also cousin to Rhys ap Gruffydd, a Welsh lord who was understandably hostile to Norman rule. Peter de Leia's relationship with Gruffydd was less than amiable, and Henry liked it that way.

Gerald's historical account includes this (possible) statement from Henry:

It is neither necessary nor expedient for king or archbishop that a man of great honesty or vigor should become Bishop of St. Davids, for fear that the Crown and Canterbury should suffer thereby. Such an appointment would only give strength to the Welsh and increase their pride.

Gerald consoled himself by leaving the country. He spent a year at the University of Paris, studying and teaching canon law and philosophy. In 1180, back in England and continuing to study theology, Bishop Peter de Leia offered him a minor position in the Bishop's household, which he at first accepted but shortly gave up.

Where he becomes of greater interest to modern scholars is in 1184 when he was asked by King Henry to mediate between the Crown and Rhys ap Gruffydd. After, he was sent with Prince John to Ireland, which led to his first important writing: Topographia Hibernica ("Topography of Ireland," although it was mostly history). Not long after he wrote Expugnatio Hibernica ("Conquest of Ireland"), the story of Henry's military campaign there. Both works were revised several times during Gerald's lifetime. 

This was the start of both his writing career and his work with several kings. We'll pick up with his map of Ireland—and how his writings were influential right into Tudor times—tomorrow.

The Barnacle Goose Myth

One piece of evidence that supported the idea of Spontaneous Generation in the Middle Ages was the case of the barnacle goose. (See the third part of the triptych to the left.)

The barnacle goose (Branta leucopsis*) is a diving bird that flourishes in England and Northern Europe. It weighs from about three to five pounds, and is quite edible. The "myth" part springs from a riddle in the Exeter Book.

My nose was in a tight spot, and I beneath the water,

underflowed by the flood, sunk deep

into the ocean-waves, and in the sea grew

covered with waves from above, my body

touching a floating piece of wood.

I had living spirit, when I came out of the embrace

of water and wood in a black garment,

some of my trappings were white,

then the air lifted me, living, up,

wind from the water, then carried me far

over the seal's bath. Say what I am called.

The answer is, of course, the barnacle goose.

The belief was that the goose, observed coming out of the water after a dive for food, was actually being birthed from the barnacle (see the middle illustration above) which was attached to the "floating piece of wood" of the riddle and whose coloring seemed to be a precursor to the markings of the goose. Barnacles were formed on pilings of docks that were underwater, and no one saw anything creating them, so they must have arisen spontaneously from the rot experienced by wood exposed to water. This matched the theories about Spontaneous Generation.

I alluded in yesterday's post that a pope got involved in a case of Spontaneous Generation. Because the barnacle goose was thought to come from a barnacle that generated underwater, they were fair game (ha!) during Lent. Giraldus Cambrensis (Gerald of Wales) recorded:

Bishops and religious men (viri religiosi) in some parts of Ireland do not scruple to dine off these birds at the time of fasting, because they are not flesh nor born of flesh... But in so doing they are led into sin. For if anyone were to eat of the leg of our first parent (Adam) although he was not born of flesh, that person could not be adjudged innocent of eating meat.

At the Fourth Lateran Council, Pope Innocent III forbade the eating of these geese during Lent, claiming that despite their generation they lived and fed like ducks and so were to be treated as other birds during Lent. (Was this the start of the phrase "If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck..."?)

There was also an idea that they could be born on trees (see the first part of the illustration). In Judaism, Rabbeinu Tam (1100 - 1171) declared that, even if born from trees, they were kosher and should be slaughtered properly like other animals.

I find that I have mentioned and quoted Gerald of Wales many times without giving him his due. We know a lot about his time period (late 12th - early 13th centuries) because of his reporting, which I'll talk about tomorrow. See you soon.

*Quick side note on the scientific name: branta is Latinized from the Old Norse Brandgás, "burnt (black) goose"; the Latin leucopsis = "white" + "faced."

Spontaneous Generation

In the 6th and 5th centuries BCE, Anaximander looked for an origin of life that did not rely on the gods. He theorized that life arose from the "wet" when acted on by the sun. The way that small life forms appeared in puddles gave him the idea that life—including human life—started as an aquatic form and progressed. This has caused some to claim he was a "prophet" of Darwin and others.

His student, Anaximenes, thought there was a primordial slime consisting of earth and water on which the sun worked to form plants and animals—including human beings.

"Spontaneous Generation" was accepted in the Middle Ages, especially after Aristotle became widely available. His History of Animals explained that animals were generated directly from the elements. Here are some translations of his thinking:

...and of these instances of spontaneous generation some come from putrefying earth or vegetable matter, as is the case with a number of insects, while others are spontaneously generated in the inside of animals out of the secretions of their several organs.

 ...

...all testaceans [creatures having a shell] grow by spontaneous generation in mud, differing from one another according to the differences of the material; oysters growing in slime, and cockles and the other testaceans above mentioned on sandy bottoms;

... 

Other insects ... are generated spontaneously: some out of dew falling on leaves, ordinarily in spring-time...; others grow in decaying mud or dung; others in timber, green or dry; some in the hair of animals; some in the flesh of animals; some in excrements: and some from excrement after it has been voided, and some from excrement yet within the living animal, like the helminthes or intestinal worms. 

(See the illustration, where flies spring from the corpse of a quadruped.)

Some writers actually aver that mullet all grow spontaneously. In this assertion they are mistaken, for the female of the fish is found provided with spawn, and the male with milt. However, there is a species of mullet that grows spontaneously out of mud and sand.

Shakespeare refers to spontaneous generation as if it were still a known and accepted occurrence in the Elizabethan Era. "Your serpent of Egypt is bred now of your mud by the/operation of your sun. So is your crocodile." [Antony and Cleopatra]

Spontaneous Generation was eventually supplanted by the understanding that animals could be extremely tiny (and cause infection, leading to germ theory) and that small eggs or larvae could explain creatures arising from corpses or puddles or slime.

There was one anecdote about the generation of life that required the intervention of a pope to help set people straight. Next time I'll tell you about the barnacle goose myth.

Medieval Germ Theory?

It was Ignaz Semmelweis in the 1840s in Vienna who noticed a link between illness (and death) and unsanitary conditions, specifically a link between women dying during childbirth who were aided by people who also were performing autopsies. He spent years trying to implement a universal handwashing policy. He did not know what was causing the deaths, but he saw a link to something.

Figuring out the cause of disease was a goal for anyone practicing medicine from the beginning of the discipline. Long before germ theory was developed, the miasma theory was proposed by Hippocrates (c. 460 – c. 370 BC): that some form of "bad air" or even "bad water" arising from rotting matter caused diseases like the Black Death, cholera, and other infections. This was an important move away from the theory of supernatural causes of illness. (There was also the idea of an imbalance in the body's natural humors.) The miasma theory allowed infection to pass through a population because of the environment, not from personal contact.

To counter bad air, you would naturally want "good air."  medical faculty of the University of Paris, writing in 1348 to explain the causes of the Black Death, said "The present epidemic or pest comes directly from air corrupted in its substance" and recommends incense which "hampers putrefaction of the air, and removes the stench of the air and the corruption [caused by] the stench."

Earlier, however, there were counters to the miasma theory.

The Classical Era and Middle Ages did have theories of person-to-person contact. Thucydides (c.460BCE - c.400CE) believed that the plague of Athens was being spread by personal contact. Galen (129 - c.200CE) referred to "seeds of plague" in the air. Isidore of Seville also mentioned "plague-bearing seeds." Avicenna (c.980-1037) was widely studied, and he linked the miasma theory with personal contact, believing an ill person could infect others by transmitting the "bad air" through breathing. His example was tuberculosis, and he believed that disease could also be transmitted through dirt and water, anticipating Semmelweis by 800 years.

Recent posts have mentioned Bologna as an important center for medical study, so it is not surprising that it was a professor of Bologna, Tommaso del Garbo (c. 1305–1370), who in 1345 promoted Galen's "seeds of plague" idea in his works

It took Girolamo Fracastoro in 1546, however, to publish De Contagione et Contagiosis Morbis ("On Contagion and Contagious Diseases"), three volumes on different diseases and their avoidance and treatment. He believed that there were particles that could travel through the air or by direct contact.

The idea that these "seeds of disease" were living things (what we call "germs") and traveling from one person to another was not being entertained, simply because there was a long-standing theory that living matter could arise spontaneously from putrefaction, and no one believed in invisible living things floating in the air. The belief that life could spring from rotting organic matter hindered understanding of bacteria already existing in the air around us. As it turns out, there were plenty of examples of Spontaneous Generation; let's talk about those tomorrow.

Theodoric Borgognoni

Speaking of surgery recently, we need to take a look at Theodoric Borgognoni, who pioneered some practices that were ahead of their time. Born in Lucca in 1205 to a physician and teacher, Hugo Borgognoni, he was destined for a medical career. He studied medicine at the University of Bologna. He also became a Dominican, then the personal physician to Pope Innocent IV, was made Bishop of Bitonto, and eventually became Bishop of Cervia.

Although he had ecclesiastical duties, he still practiced medicine and taught. One of his students was later the "father of French surgery," Henri de Mondeville. Borgognoni wrote the Chirurgia ("Surgery") in the mid-13th century, four volumes that cover what was known about surgery at the time, with his own additions. (A copy of the work created c.1300 on vellum was auctioned at Christie's a few years ago; a sample page is illustrated above.)

In the Chirurgia, he advocates many interesting techniques. Broken bones were a serious problem, and Borgognoni explained how to re-align the bones and tie them together with gold or silver wire. He also advocated post-operative massage of the area to aid proper healing.

Much of Chirurgia is similar to a work written 15 years earlier by Bruno da Longoburgo, but since both of them were students of Hugo Borgognoni, that can be expected. Borgognoni the younger, however, has plenty of ideas not found in the other work.

He departed from standard medical beliefs about pus. For centuries, pus bonum et laudabile ("good and laudable pus") in a wound was considered a sign of proper healing. There was some sense to this, because severe infection led to necrotizing tissue, which and looked very different was much worse. Pus was a different symptom, and looked to early doctors much better than the other option. Wounds that showed pus, therefore, would be left open to suppurate to support the healing process.

Borgognoni did not believe that pus in the wound was proper: he advocated cleaning and drying the wound, then suturing it:

"For it is not necessary that bloody matter (pus) be generated in wounds -- for there can be no error greater than this, and nothing else which impedes nature so much, and prolongs the sickness."

He also (which was not a unique idea) used wine to treat a wound. Now we know, of course, that alcohol in wine would help to kill harmful bacteria. Of course, wine for treating wounds did not automatically lead to the idea that a substance in wine was "killing" something in the wound. Wine was a good thing, and its goodness had healing properties—that was the thinking. It would take centuries to develop germ theory. There were, however, small steps in that direction, and I'll explain those tomorrow.

Medicine Men

In the middle of the 14th century, the centers of medical knowledge were the universities at Bologna, Montpellier, and Paris. One of the professors linked to Bologna who trained several future doctors was Taddeo Alderotti.

Alderotti was born in Florence but moved to Bologna where he taught several men like Gentile da Cingoli, the emperor's doctor Bartolomeo da Varignana, and the anatomist Mondino de Luzzi.

Alderotti was a highly reputed doctor in his own right, and patients came from all over Italy to see him, making him a very wealthy man.

Another student at Bologna was Henri de Mondeville. Mondeville (c.1260 - 1320) was French, and studied at Montpellier and Paris before moving to Bologna to study under the prominent surgeon Theodoric Borgognoni, who had some new ideas about treating wounds. After studying under Borgognoni, he went back to the University of Montpellier as a professor of anatomy and surgery. He became royal surgeon to King Philip IV and his son King Louis X.

Mondeville wrote the first French surgical treatise, La Chirurgie ("Surgery"). Intending to write it in five sections, he only completed two from 1306, when he started, to his death in 1320. Some of his statements were opposed to current "wisdom," and it wasn't until centuries later that it was rediscovered in 1892 and Mondeville's ideas were justified.

What was so controversial? His approach to treating wounds, which he learned from Borgognoni. I'll explain the radical ideas of Theodore Borgognoni next time.