Richard II's Feast

In 1390, King Richard II of England had his master chefs assemble a book of all their best recipes. This Forme of Cury (Forms of Cooking) was interesting enough that an edition was presented to Queen Elizabeth I. In 1975, Lorna J. Sass took the edition printed for the Early English Text Society* recipes and not only translated the recipes into Modern English (to the best of her understanding, given the imprecision of the directions), but also tested the recipes to determine proportions of ingredients that would result in dishes acceptable to the modern palate.

You can read it yourself one photographed manuscript page at a time here. The illustration on this page is for "Conynges (conies=rabbits) in clere broth." You can see the title clearly.

On September 23, 1387, Richard held a feast, the details of which are given. The pomp and ceremony started at 10:30, followed by:

• Venison with furmenty (a sauce of boiled wheat)
• A potage called Viaundbruse (a broth with choice meats)
• Heads of Boars
• Great haunches of roasted meat
• Roasted swans
• Roasted pigs
• Custard with dried fruit, parsley and bone marrow in a crust
• A subtlety (a decorative piece of food)

...and that was the first course. Eleven more dishes followed—mostly meats—and then a subtlety. Then a third course of ten more dishes, and a subtlety. When this was all done, the sun was beginning to fade. Wafers and spiced wine were served, and spiced confections placed on the tables.

That was a feast!


*The EETS was founded in 1864 by F.J.Furnivall with the stated goal of putting into print all historical manuscripts available in English. It is through the EETS that many manuscripts from the Cotton Library became available to scholars and the public.

More than a Musician

We so often study famous people in isolation, forgetting that their lives and successes probably overlapped other well-known people. Imagine the possibilities when people of vision and ingenuity met with and influence each other?

Philippe de Vitry (1291-1361) is not a well-known name today, but in his lifetime he was acknowledged as the greatest musician of the age, and his own works and his connections with others are worth knowing. In his lifetime, he was a diplomat, a soldier, a poet, a composer and music theorist. Like most university-educated men of the Middle Ages, de Vitry was in Holy Orders and held several clerical positions, finally being appointed Bishop of Meaux by Pope Clement VI.

Some of the motets he composed have survived. His chief contribution to music, however, was in the evolving system of notation. In Ars nova notandi (Art of the new notation), de Vitry improved on Franconian musical notation that had been set out in Franco of Cologne's Ars Cantus Mensurabilis (The Art of Measurement of Songs); de Vitry recognized the existence and importance of duple and triple meter. For connoisseurs of music:

In the treatise Vitry recognizes the existence of five note values (duplex longa, longa, brevis, semibrevis, and minima), codifies a system of binary as well as ternary mensuration at four levels (maximodus, modus, tempus, prolatio), and introduces four time signatures. He also discusses the use of red notes to signal both changes of mensural meaning and deviations from an original cantus firmus. (source)

And of course he knew other accomplished figures of his age, such as Petrarch, Nicholas Oresme, and Gersonides. In fact, de Vitry's musical approach to mathematics (the two subjects were closely linked in medieval education) prompted him to request of Gersonides a work to prove a theory. This 1342 work, De harmonicis numeris (On the harmony of numbers), maintained that, "except for the pairs 1-2, 2-3, 3-4, and 8-9, it is impossible for two numbers that follow each other to be composed of the factors 2 and 3." (source) The result is known today as the Theorem of Gersonides.

How far are the stars?

Rabbi Levi ben Gerson, also known as Gersonides, lived from 1288-c.1344. He was from a family of scholars: his father, Gerson ben Solomon of Arles, was the author of the Sha'ar ha-Shamayim, an encyclopedia of natural science, astronomy, and metaphysics.* Levi is credited with first mentioning, and possibility inventing, Jacob's Staff. (He references Genesis 32:10 when he describes the device; this is likely the origin of the name.)

At a time when religion, philosophy, astronomy, astrology and science were overlapping (and in some cases, interchangeable), Gersonides' greatest work, which was philosophical, contained his greatest contribution to astronomy. He put twelve years (1317-28) of effort into the Milhamot Adonai ("Wars of the Lord"), whose six books dealt with 1) the soul, 2) prophecy, 3) & 4) god's knowledge of facts and providence, 5) astronomy/astrology, and 6) creation and miracles. Gersonides firmly accepted astrology and the celestial hierarchy of powers inherited from neo-Platonists and pseudo-Dionysius (far too complex to go into here), but he also brought mathematics and observation to his work with extraordinary results for the time.

Postage stamp honoring Gersonides.

Gersonides rejected the Ptolemaic system of epicycles to explain the erratic motion of planets affixed to their crystal spheres surrounding the Earth. According to Ptolemy, epicycles explained the changing size of planets; he said, however, that Mars varies by a factor of six; Gersonides' observations told him that Mars's apparent size varies only two-fold. Gersonides used the Jacob Staff and a camera obscura (pinhole camera) to make careful observations over several years. For Gersonides, 48 crystalline spheres were needed to explain the apparent motion of various heavenly bodies. This expansion of the "physics" of the Ptolemaic model was nothing, however, compared to the actual physical expansion he proposed.

Careful observation with the Jacob Staff, the camera obscura, and math made Gersonides declare heavenly objects to be much farther away than previously calculated. Ptolemy claimed the distance to Venus was 1079 Earth radii; Gersonides estimated it to be 8,971,112 Earth radii away. Ptolemy said the fixed stars were 20,000 Earth radii away; Gersonides estimated them to be at a distance 10 billion times greater.

Pope Clement VI had the "Wars of the Lord" translated into Latin in 1344, making it available to the west. Its impact was minimal, however; we know of a few scholars who were influenced by it, and Kepler asked a friend to send him a copy in the 17th century. But it took Copernicus two centuries later to "confirm" to Western civilization's satisfaction that Gersonides was on the right track.

*As I have mentioned about medieval encyclopediæ before, they were often compilations of previous works; this one drew from Claudius Ptolemy's Almagest and the Morah Nebukim, or "Guide for the Perplexed" of Maimonides. A 1547 edition of ben Solomon's work can be had from Kestenbaum & Company.

Muslim-Christian Relations, Part 2 (of 2)

[Part 1 is here.]

Saladin

After Richard and Saladin each slaughtered their prisoners, Richard marched to Jaffa, which he hoped to make a base from which he could take Jerusalem. Saladin attacked, but Richard prevailed with his main troops in the front and the Knights Templar forces on the left and the Knights Hospitaller on the right. Saladin was surrounded on three sides. Richard took Jaffa in September 1191, and Saladin was willing to talk truce.

Richard and Saladin showed great mutual respect for each other's military prowess. A temporary halt to hostilities was declared so they could come to terms.  At one point, when Richard became ill, Saladin sent him fruit that was chilled with snow brought from the mountains, and offered his personal physician. Also, Saladin sent two horses as replacements for Richard's.

An attempt was made to join East and West by the marriage of Richard's sister, Joan (1165-1199), to Saladin's brother, Al-Adil (1145-1218), who was currently administrator of Egypt. Joan had been married to King William II of Sicily, but he had died in 1189; later she would become Countess of Toulouse by her marriage to Raymond VI. The plan was for Jerusalem to be their wedding gift, and would therefore pass into the hands of a dynasty that joined Western Europe (or, at least, England!) to the Muslim world. Negotiations fell through, however.

The two commanders did agree on a three-year truce. In summer 1192, the Treaty of Ramla determined that Jerusalem would remain under Muslim control, but Christians would be allowed safe passage. Also, the Crusaders would give up lands they had invaded except for a narrow coastal strip that extended from Tyre to Jaffa. Neither leader was wholly pleased, but each had reason to wish a swift end to the conflict. Richard had troubles at home due to his brother John. Saladin was losing control of his army because of his failure to re-take Acre or to route Richard's forces in their many engagements.

Saladin died of yellow fever in 1193. While his heirs fought over the succession, Western Europe was told tales of Saladin's military prowess and chivalrous actions toward the invaders. There is an anecdote that, in April 1191, a Frankish woman on pilgrimage had her baby stolen and sold into slavery. According to Saladin's biographer, Saladin bought the baby back with his own money and returned it to the mother, then ordered a horse to take her back to her camp. Poems were written in praise of him. Richard declared him the greatest leader in the Islamic world.

And the punchline? All the negotiations and gifts between Richard and Saladin were made by proxies. The two men who so praised and respected each other never met face-to-face.

Muslim-Christian Relations, Part 1 (of 2)

The Second Crusade (1145-49) had put a great deal of the Holy Land under European rule, but Saladin (Salah ad-Din Yusuf ibn Ayyub, 1138-1193) had re-conquered much of that territory, prompting several kings of Europe to agree to another crusade. The Third Crusade (1189-92) was unsuccessful in putting the Holy Land under Western European control. It did, however, open up a dialogue between the east and west in unforeseen ways.

The death of Henry II put the English troops under the command of Richard the Lionhearted. Richard loved military campaigns. His first stop was at Cyprus to conquer that island, after which he joined King Philip of France and Leopold V of Austria, who were embroiled in the two-year-long Siege of Acre. Richard's siege machines started destroying the walls. The residents of Acre sent appeals to Saladin to help them, but he could not defeat the Europeans. Acre had no choice but to surrender. Five weeks after Richard's arrival, the Europeans took the city, and banners were raised over the city representing the Kingdoms of Jerusalem, France, England, and the Duchy of Austria.

Richard may have been a great commander, but he was a terrible co-commander. The three lords fought over the disbursement of the spoils of war. Richard argued against the other two over whom should be left as King of Jerusalem; Richard prevailed. Richard also refused to accord Leopold the same respect as a king, and took down Austria's banner. In August, Philip and Leopold had had enough: they went back home, leaving 10,000 French troops with Richard's army.

Richard alone was left to deal with Saladin and establish a treaty after Acre. Payments of money and the transfer of Muslim and Christian prisoners were arranged. Richard did not like the slowness of the payments, and the fact that he wanted more Christians handed over faster. He had 2700 Muslim men, women and children of Acre killed outside the walls. Saladin, not to be outdone, killed all the Christians in his possession.

But the relationship between these two commanders was going to take an odd turn.

[to be continued]

Jacob's Staff

Have you seen a modern surveyor using a single vertical rod with an instrument on top to measure property lines? That pole is nicknamed a "Jacob's Staff." Hundreds of years ago, however, the term "Jacob's Staff" was used to refer to more than one type of instrument; it's the other instrument that I want to discuss today.

A recreation of a Jacob's Staff.

The other instrument was also called a cross-staff, or a fore-staff, or (around the Mediterranean) a balestilha. It comprised a staff with cross-pieces designed to allow the user to determine angles of distant points. By aligning it with, say, Polaris (the North Star), a sailor could determine the angle between the star and the horizon. Matched against known measurements, the sailor then knew his latitude.

Knowledge of geometry and arithmetic also allowed the user to determine other measurements. If the height of a distant tower were known, that number and the angle known via the staff allowed you to determine your distance from the tower. Alternately, if you knew your distance from the base of a tall object, finding the angle from you to the top of it helped you determine how tall it was.

The Jacob's Staff had another name as well when used with heavenly bodies: radius astronomicus.

From an early book on navigation.

Where did it come from? The earliest description we have of the device is in the astronomical works of Gersonides (Levi ben Gerson, 1288-1344), who describes it as:

... a staff of 4.5 feet (1.4 m) long and about one inch (2.5 cm) wide, with six or seven perforated tablets which could slide along the staff, each tablet being an integral fraction of the staff length to facilitate calculation, used to measure the distance between stars or planets, and the altitudes and diameters of the Sun, Moon and stars. (Book of the Wars of the Lord)

Although some ascribe it to a contemporary of his, an astronomer named Jacob ben Machir (1236-1304). This might also explain its common name, since no other convincing etymology has come forth. The invention of the more precise sextant in the 18th century rendered the Jacob's Staff a quaint relic, and the name, when used, came to refer only to the simpler measuring stick we still see today.

Defenestration

After Jan Hus was executed for heresy in 1415 (Jan Hus has been discussed here and here), his followers, called Hussites, continued to protest vehemently for the reform of the Church. A very popular Hussite priest of the church of the Virgin Mary of the Snows, Jan Zelivsky, led a procession to the Town Hall in Prague that gathered a large number of citizens. The protest was about the inequality between peasants and the nobility, and about the perceived corruption of the Church that had been successfully preached by Wycliffe. Preachers such as Zelivsky urged people to take up arms to combat their oppression.

After the procession reached Charles Square in the city, someone threw a stone at Zelivsky from a window of the Town Hall. This act caused his followers to enter the building en masse, seize the judge, the burgomaster (the Mayor of Prague), and thirteen members of the town council, and throw them all out a window. Those that did not die in the fall were finished off by the crowd.

This was called the Defenestration of Prague, from the Latin defenestrare, "to throw out a window."* Over a century later, it would be re-named "The First Defenestration of Prague," because the act was so useful that it became a pastime.

Later depiction of a Prague defenestration.

The Catholic Encyclopedia would have you believe that this event so disturbed King Wenceslas IV that he died shortly after due to shock. Perhaps someone should update that page. Wenceslas died over two weeks later, after suffering a heart attack while hunting in the woods around his castle. He had been sympathetic to non-conformists and to the idea of reform, and had been a supporter of Jan Hus. The Defenestration surely would not have pleased him, but a king in his 50s who had seen what Wenceslas had been through was used to controversy. Sadly, his death along with the Prague violence helped kick off the Hussite Wars.

The Defenestration of Prague took place 593 years ago today, in 1419. Consider how you might honor the event as you go through your day!


*Let us pause and reflect on the utility of Latin, to already have a word for this act! It was needed at least for the Latin Bible, so that Jezebel could be defenestrated in 2 Kings 9:33.

Thorkill of Arden

When Leofric, Earl of Mercia, died in 1057, his estate of Kingsbury passed to his widow, the Countess Godgifu, better known to later generations by the Latin version of her name, Godiva. The Domesday Book, compiled on King William's orders in 1086, lists her as a landowner as of the Conquest in 1066, but no longer. So where did her property go?

Prior to William of Normandy's attack in 1066, Edward the Confessor had been inviting Normans over the Channel as councilors; several of them had already been given lands. After 1066, Normans were put into all positions of power, and Saxon nobles were demoted to lesser landholders. Two Saxons, however, had chosen to support William in 1066. One of these was Thorkill of Arden (also called Turchill).

Early Heraldry for Arden

Thorkill's father, Æthelwine, was a nephew of Leofric and the Sheriff of Warwickshire in 1066. Perhaps Thorkill saw supporting William as a way to enhance his own standing. Perhaps he truly believed that William was the rightful ruler; reasons why he might were discussed here. Perhaps he just didn't like Harold. In any case, he was confirmed as Sheriff after his father's death.

At some point—the simplest explanation is the death of the Countess Godiva, whose date we do not know—King William gave Kingsbury and its 700 acres to Thorkill. This made Thorkill the sole member of the pre-1066 Saxon nobility to hold an estate of any significance at the time of Domesday.*

Thorkill held Kingsbury for several years; he is listed as the landowner in Domesday. King William's third son was crowned William II on 26 September, 1087 by Bishop Lanfranc. William II was in many ways a successful king, although not universally popular; perhaps confiscating people's lands had a role. William took Kingsbury away from Thorkill. That was not the end of the Arden family's prosperity, however: they remained prominent in Warwickshire politics. A descendant, Mary Arden, was the mother of Shakespeare.

*That is, of the nobility; Bishop Wulfstan of Worcester was, technically, the most powerful Englishman in 1086.

Leofric

Remember Edward the Confessor? He may have had good qualities, but getting along with family was not one of them. Not only was he harsh to his mother, he quarreled frequently with his father-in-law, Godwin, who happened to be one of the most powerful men in England. One of the quarrels between the two was "mediated" by Leofric, Earl of Mercia (d.1057).

King Cnut (c.985-1035) divided England into four provinces (East Anglia, Mercia, Northumbria, and Wesex) and gave each to an earl. The earldom of Mercia was given to Leofric after its original earl,  Eadric Streona, died in 1017 (within months of Cnut's division). The position meant Leofric was second in power to Godwin of Wessex.

When Cnut died, Leofric supported as his successor Harold Harefoot over Harthacnut. Harold was the son of Cnut's first wife, Ælfgifu, and Leofric may have been related to her. Harold became king, but when he died in 1040 and Harthacnut ascended the throne, Leofric must have felt a little awkward. Fortunately for Leofric, Harthacnut died in 1042, and his half-brother Edward the Confessor took the throne.

When Edward and Godwin quarreled in 1051, Leofric brought an army, along with Earl Siward of Northumbria, and joined Edward's troops in facing Godwin's forces. Leofric counseled that they should settle the conflict peacefully rather than risk destroying the fighting power of England. The result was Godwin's (brief) exile.

Life was good for Leofric, and his son Ælfgar replaced Godwin as Earl of Wessex; but Godwin and Edward were reconciled a year later, and Ælfgar had the humiliation of losing his earldom. In 1053, when Godwin died, Ælfgar got the position back again. Ælfgar seemed to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor, not his father, and was exiled in 1055, whereupon he raised a fleet and tried to attack England. But that's a different story.

Talk about a different story: I've left out one tidbit about Leofric—the one everyone knows, although they don't know they know it. Leofric and his wife, Godgifu (Anglo-Saxon for "god gift"), were very devout people. They endowed a Benedictine monastery in Coventry, and later records credit them with supporting monasteries at Chester, Evesham, Leominster and Much Wenlock. Some later writers claim she was the primary influence for her husband's generosity. In fact, there is a story (without evidence) that she was so opposed to the oppressive taxation imposed by her husband on his tenants, that she was willing to go through an 11th century version of "truth or dare." What we know of her husband suggests that not only would he not have been so cruel to his tenants, but neither would he force his pretty young wife to shame herself by riding naked through the streets of Coventry. Still, the story won't go away, although Godgifu probably wouldn't recognize either the telling or the Latinized version of her name, Godiva.

Domesday Book

In 1085, Duke William of Normandy had been ruling England as King William for twenty years (it all started here). He decided it was finally time to take inventory of his property. He sent his agents (3-4 commissioners for each of 7 areas the country was divided into) to make a survey of everything south of the border with Scotland.* They met with groups of representatives (barons and villagers) and asked a series of standard questions. By the end of summer in 1086, the reports (in Latin) were all being compiled back at Winchester, along with data on the value of the land and its assets immediately pre- and post-Conquest. The entire work is in the same very neat handwriting, so a single scribe was given the job of compiling/collating everything. The official name of the result was "The Book of Winchester."

So why is it usually called "Domesday Book" now? That nickname was given to it about 100 years later, and just like it looks, it means "Doomsday." The idea behind the nickname is that the book was such a complete listing of everything in England that it was equivalent to the "Book of Life" used by God at the end of time to judge your deeds. It was that complete.

Except, of course, it wasn't.

For one thing, work ceased by the time King William died in September 1087. The section on East Anglia hadn't been compiled into the total work. There is, therefore, a "Little Domesday Book" with the East Anglia data. Also, important cities such as London and Winchester were not included, probably because William figured he knew them well enough and didn't need an accurate accounting of their property assets, such as he would want for the countryside.

Also, attempts to judge population using Domesday fall short of expectations. Although farms and buildings were counted, only heads of households were included in the population count. In castles, the number of men were counted, but the population in monasteries and convents was not. Best guesses, extrapolating from what data are included, is a population of 1.25-2 million, a far cry from the estimated 4 million during the Roman occupation.

Still, the Book contains a lot of fascinating information in its 413 pages, which I will draw on in the future.


*N.B.: The border with Scotland was much farther south than it is now.

Updates

My research (or just day-to-day life) sometimes bring me details that I wish I'd known when I wrote a certain blog post, or that I think are interesting tidbits that tie into posts. Occasionally, I will throw these updates together with links to the originals.

May 19
The Domus Conversorum, the "House of Converts" in London for Jews who converted to Christianity (or else be banished from England). A picture of what is on the modern site is here. (The photographer's caption is a little misleading.)
Also, there was a building called "Domus Conversorum" in Oxford, and for awhile it was thought that Oxford (which had a large Jewish population pre-Expulsion) had its own Converts' Inn. It is accepted now, however, that the property was called thus because the rents from it went to supporting the Domus in London.

July 2, 3, and 5
John Wycliffe was a fascinating character for many reasons, but I may have been remiss in "finishing him off" by not giving you the whole story (one of this blog's followers commented on this on Facebook).
Wycliffe died 31 December, 1384, after suffering a stroke a few days earlier while saying Mass. It wasn't until 4 May 1415 that the Council of Constance declared him a heretic (prior to this, only some of his writings were proscribed). His books were to be gathered and destroyed. The Church—never one to do things by halves when defending the faith was involved—exhumed his body in 1428, burned it, and scattered the ashes in the nearby River Swift near Lutterworth.

July 21
Update on the Greenland/Medieval Warm Period topic
Just this week it was reported that satellites have seen a sudden and massive melting of the ice on Greenland. The specific/immediate cause is unknown. This may make archaeological digs for Erik the Red's settlements easier to examine. The report is here.

(Also, I want to say "hi" to any visitors from reddit.com. Yesterday saw a large influx of visitors from that site to yesterday's post on vocabulary first found in Chaucer's writings. Thanks for visiting anc creating a pleasant spike in my site traffic!)

Words from Chaucer

Geoffrey Chaucer (c.1342-1400) and William Shakespeare (1564-1616) are both credited with increasing English vocabulary. There is no proof that either of them actually invented the words we find in their works. All we can say for certain is that the words appeared for the first time in their works; it is likely that many of these words were in common use on the streets of London.

While Shakespeare is usually the first to come to mind when the subject of contributions to the English language comes up, Chaucer actually gets credit for having more words we know now appear in his works first. Of course, since he had a two-century head start on Shakespeare, maybe it isn't a fair contest.

Chaucer gets the credit if you can:

check the galaxy called Milky Way
bear a corrosive test
observe an oriental Persian
foster a superlative rumour
clasp a dagger
be victorious
varnish a convertible
muse on femininity
amble the equator
preen, murmur, vomit, fart, strangle, commit, retain, oppress, create a mystery, or replenish material.

John of Gaddesden

With us there was a doctor of physic;
In all this world was none like him to pick
For talk of medicine and surgery;
For he was grounded in astronomy. —Prologue to the Canterbury Tales

Doctor, from the Ellesmere MS.

John of Gaddesden (c.1280-1361) was a "Doctor of Physik" who was quite well-known in his day, so much so that modern scholars looking to find analogs for the characters in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales have suggested he is the likeliest candidate for Chaucer's "doctor of physic." As a fan of both Chaucer and historical detail, I'm going to weigh in and say . . . maybe.

Who was Gaddesden, and why was he considered the model for Chaucer's pilgrim? For one thing, he had written Rosa medicinæ (The rose of medicine; sometimes called the Rosa Anglicæ), a compendium of medical information called so because it was in five parts, like the five sepals of a rose. In it, he quotes numerous authorities from the past; Chaucer's list of authorities with whom his doctor is familiar lines up nicely with Gaddesden's sources. Also, Gaddesden had a reputation for charging high fees, and Chaucer makes it clear that his doctor loved gold.

To be honest, however, Gaddesden's book was quoting the same authorities that anyone would quote when compiling a book on medicine. It was completely unoriginal. Even his title seems derivative, probably based on Lilium medicinæ (the Lily of medicine) by Bernard Gordon, produced at Montpellier in 1303. Gordon, a Scotsman, was one of the teachers of Guy de Chauliac. Chauliac, in turn, taught Gaddesden. What did Chauliac think of his student's work? Not much; he said of it:

Last of all arose the scentless rose of England, in which, on its being sent to me, I hoped to find the odor of sweet originality, but instead of that I encountered only the fictions of Hispanus, of Gilbert, and of Theodoric.

Those who write about Gaddesden being Chaucer's doctor usually justify it also be calling them "contemporaries." Let's look at the timeline: the Canterbury Tales probably wasn't started until 1387. Even if the Prologue were the first thing he wrote—highly unlikely—this was a quarter century after Gaddesden's death; a death that would have taken place when Chaucer was about 20 years old and had been connected to the household of Prince Lionel, the second son of King Edward III, only for a few years. Gaddesden seems to have been attached to the household of Edward, the Black Prince, who would have spent much of Gaddesden's later years on the continent while Chaucer was in England.

They could have crossed paths, but probably not significantly, and Gaddesden would have been long out of the public eye and consciousness when Chaucer came into his own as a poet. For Chaucer to write up a physician who quoted historical authorities, knew astrology, and loved gold probably just meant that he had met typical physicians.

Great Surgeon

The history of medicine includes many brave and progressive thinkers who were not willing to follow the herd or be content with what was already known. One such in the Middle Ages was Guy de Chauliac. Born about 1300, he studied at a university in Montpellier known for its expertise in medicine. After becoming a Master of Medicine and Surgery around 1325, he went to Bologna for further study. His reputation became such that he was invited to Avignon to be personal physician to Pope Clement VI, then Pope Innocent VI and Pope Urban V. The papal connection gave him access to a library that included the texts of the Greek physician Galen in their original; most of Europe knew Galen through less accurate Latin translations.

He possibly saved Clement's life during the spread of the Black Death, when he advised the pope to stay near blazing fires. Although many physicians fled Avignon at the arrival of the Plague, Chauliac stayed to study the disease and treat people. He determined that it was contagious, but couldn't figure out the method of contagion. Still, he advised bloodletting, a healthy diet, and exposure to pure air (hence the fires, which would have serendipitously served to keep fleas away). He also realized that there were two diseases involved because of different sets of symptoms: the initial Bubonic Plague, and the follow-up Pneumonic Plague which found its foothold in the weakened population and killed much more swiftly. Chauliac spoke out strongly against those who blamed the Jews for the Plague, explaining that scientifically it made no sense to consider them at fault.

Tools for withdrawing an arrow.

His value to the rest of the world and history was the writing of Chirurgia magna (Great [book of] Surgery) in 1363. Its seven volumes covered every imaginable medical topic of the day: intubation, surgery, disease, anesthesia, hernia, cataracts, ulcers, bloodletting, cauterization of wounds, and the use of special instruments (some of which he designed himself, such as an elaborate contraption for withdrawing an arrow from flesh). Chauliac drew on the past, quoting Galen (129-c.200) and Avicenna (Abu Ali al-Husayn ibn Abd Allah ibn Sina, c.980-1037). He placed great emphasis on learning anatomy, saying that "A surgeon who does not know his anatomy is like a blind man carving a log."

Chauliac was not always accurate. He believed, for instance, that pus was an important part of the healing process and should be left alone. Nevertheless, his Chirurgia became a standard text for the next three centuries, translated into several European languages. Unfortunately for future generations, anti-Islam sentiment caused many translators to leave out knowledge from Islamic scholars, resulting in a less complete and less accurate work. Still, he has been labeled the "Father of Modern Surgery," and his great work was the standard text until the 17th century.

Medieval Re-Births

Far from being a complete intellectual vacuum in the years between the decline of Rome and the Renaissance, Europe experienced three distinct periods when the slow slog of culture enjoyed a short sprint forward. Two of them were connected specifically with royal patronage and the attempt on the part of a ruler to create something academically impressive and politically lasting. Scholars dispute the accuracy of calling them "renaissances" because their impact was not as lasting as the shifts in the 14th century that sparked an uninterrupted (so far) progression in all human endeavors. Erwin Panofsky, a 20th century German art historian, produced a slim tome in 1944 called Renaissance and Renascences in which he used the latter term to distinguish those other periods in history. Let's do that.

Charlemagne

The first Renascence took place during the reigns of Charlemagne (c.742-814) and his son, Louis the Pious (778-840). Charlemagne was not only King of the Franks. He managed to unite much of western and central Europe, and once he conquered Italy, he was in a position to be named Holy Roman Emperor.

Empires require a great deal of bureaucracy, however, and the dearth of literate men to serve as court scribes and secretaries was problematic. Literacy was also a problem because many parish priests could not read the Bible. In fact, the lack of widespread formal training in Latin meant that its common use—what now is referred to as vulgar Latin—was developing into regional dialects. Some of these dialects would evolve into what we call the Romance languages.

Sample of Carolingian Minuscule

With the chance to re-create the glory that was the Roman Empire, Charlemagne gathered scholars to promote the proper use of Latin. While establishing schools to accomplish this and—and along the way developing a new script called "Carolingian minuscule" that was more legible than what came before—he promoted learning, art, law, architecture, and Christianity. In order to do this, he brought together many top scholars of the day, such as:

• Peter of Pisa, who taught Charlemagne Latin
• Paulinus of Aquileia
• Paulus Diaconus
• Alcuin of York
• Joseph Scottus

These men and others helped to create a "bright spot" in a time so often called "dark." There were still dark times to come in western Europe, but thanks to the Carolingian Renascence, Western Civilization survived—in the words of Sir Kenneth Clark in his epic Civilization: "by the skin of its teeth."