Anselm of Laon Explains the Bible

Anselm of Laon (d.15 July 1117) studied under one of the great names of the day, St. Anselm of Bec, whom I teased about here. He became a master of the new scholastic theology, and helped establish two schools of theology and created a new way to read the Bible.

Scholastic theology was a blend of two traditions: patristic learning (that is, writings from the fathers of the early church, such as Augustine), and the reasoning skills derived from reading the non-Christian thinkers such as Greek philosophers and Jewish scholars (which at this point were usually available because of Islamic scholars). The Scholastics were no longer content to shake their heads and simply accept apparent inconsistencies in the Bible. Their goal was to order and understand the entire world, and that meant first understanding the Bible.

17th century edition of Anselm's Bible

Consequently, Anselm produced an edition of the Bible called the Glossa interlinearis, so-called because his commentary was written above or next to each line.* Anselm's work was groundbreaking in that it presented a discussion and explanation for the Bible in an easily accessible manner, verse by verse.

His other notable contribution to theology was at the university in Paris, which he co-founded with William of Champeaux. Here theologians promoted Realism, the philosophy that our reality is independent of our beliefs, perceptions, and language. For Realists, truth is understood as one learns of and conforms to reality.

Anselm of Laon became so well-known for his understanding of theology that, when he moved to Laon to start a school there, scholars traveled to study with him. One of these, Peter Abelard, would be expelled from the school by Anselm in 1113 after debates over the validity of Realism, but would go on to become, in his turn, one of the groundbreaking theologians of the next generation. Anselm, though not well known now, would have been happy to know that his glosses on the Bible were re-printed several times over the following centuries.

*Modern scholars think it more likely that the Glossa was compiled by Anselm's students after his death, using Anselm's lectures and (now lost) writings.  This was one of two chief commentaries on the Bible. The other was the Glossa ordinaria of Walafrid Strabo (808-849).

Phantom Time

In June 2005, at a conference in Toronto on "Anomalous Eras - Best Evidence: Best Theory," Heribert Illig presented a paper he called "The Invented Middle Ages." It was not the first time this theory of history had been presented to the public—it had been known in Germany since 1996—but the first time it had been presented outside of Europe. In it, he explained his path to finding an anomaly in the historical record: that 300 years of our history did not exist! This theory is called the "Phantom Time Hypothesis."

Illig was born in 1947 in Germany. He studied economics, mathematics, physics, some art history and Egyptology, and describes himself as "not a historian in the narrow sense of the word." While reading the theories of Immanuel Velikovsky (that Earth has barely survived closes passes by Venus and Mars, before they settled into their present orbits, and that these fly-bys took place within the memory of ancient man and were recorded as myths), he began to question the historical record in Egypt, which led him to co-author a book, Wann lebten die Pharaonen? (When Did the Pharaohs Live?).

Diagram of missing and "recalibrated" years.

Once he was comfortable with questioning the accepted history of the human race, he started looking at the Middle Ages. He asked himself questions. Why did certain documents with earlier dates only get discovered later? How far off might the calendar have been by the time Pope Gregory insisted it be fixed? Could the engineering of Charlemagne's time really produce a building like the Chapel of Aachen, which looks to be part of Romanesque architecture style, which only existed two centuries after Charlemagne? As for Charlemagne himself: did he really create a re-birth from 768-814, when everything on either side of him is still "dark," and could one man possibly have done all that scholars say he did? How much can we trust those periods in western Europe that we now call "Dark Ages"?

His conclusion: there is a gap of years, from 614 to 911, for which any dates and events ascribed did not in fact take place. Essentially, a 300-year span has been "presumed" by historians who have tried to make sense of the unclear and inaccurate data we have; methods of radiometric and dendrochronological dating are unreliable, et cetera. Others have picked up on this and added to it; of course, he also has his opponents.

Illig has to assume enormous errors on the part of archaeologists and historians, as well as an elaborate conspiracy taking place in the centuries after 911 to "record" history that took place in the three centuries previous. Some of his arguments result from his misunderstanding of Gregorian calendar reform and dating methods. Some are just assumptions that contemporary witnesses are untrustworthy.

Is there a chance he's right? Is it possible that we are living in the year 1715 CE? Fortunately, astronomy helps. The Persian Wars between Greece and Persia lasted from 499-449 BCE.* The Greek historians of the wars tell of two solar eclipses taking place not far apart. The only times for two solar eclipses near each other in that part of the world were 2492 years ago and 2490 years ago, on 2 October 480 BCE and 14 February 478 BCE.

So there it is. No missing time. Thanks, science!

*One of these battles, Marathon, is remembered in the present day in footraces across the world. Another battle, Thermopylae, gave us the plot for the movie "300."

Chapel of Aachen

Charlemagne put serious effort into making his reign reminiscent of the grandeur that was the Roman Empire. He gathered scholars and artists from all over Europe, including Alcuin and Joseph Scottus and Paulus Diaconus and many others. Nothing was too advanced or grand to be attempted and supported. When it came to building a palace complex worthy of his dreams, in western Germany, in the city of Aachen, he called on Odo of Metz (742-814).

Floor Plan of Chapel of Aachen

All we really know of Odo is his name, mentioned in two places: by Charlemagne's contemporary biographer, and in an inscription around the dome of the Palatine Chapel he built that is the only part of the palace complex that remains. Now incorporated into the Cathedral of Aachen, it was designed after the still-standing basilica of San Vitale in Ravenna, Italy. San Vitale was built in the Byzantine style, and the Palatine Chapel in Germany has a very Byzantine feel: an octagonal shape, marble floor, striped arches and golden mosaics.

The Chapel was also an important repository for holy relics, which are still preserved in the Aachen Cathedral:

• the cloak of the Blessed Virgin;
• the swaddling-clothes of the Infant Jesus;
• the loin-cloth worn by Christ on the Cross;
• the cloth on which lay the head of St. John the Baptist after his beheading.*

...and the remains of Charlemagne himself.

The Chapel of Aachen became a point of controversy in the 20th century, however, for reasons no one could have foreseen during its construction. Its advanced construction—the high rounded arches, the height of the dome—are not seen again until the development of Romanesque architecture in the 11th century. Most historians attribute this to the skill of Odo of Metz. A German art historian, however, thinks it is evidence of one of the greatest conspiracy theories in the history of the world. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

*These relics are shown every 7 years; next showing is in 2014. Make your travel plans now! (And hope the Lufthansa strike ends soon; right, Lois?)

Not One Iota of Difference

Iota, the smallest thing in the Greek alphabet, with the reputation for being ... the smallest thing.

Even people who don't know a bit of Greek know the phrase "not one iota." Where did that phrase come from, and does its origin belong in a blog post about the Middle Ages? A week ago, I would have said "No." But now—if you've been reading faithfully—you have the background you need to understand better the impact of this phrase.

The complete phrase is "it makes not one iota of difference," and believe it or not, it is tied to the Arian heresy. One of the problems Arius had with what became conventional Christianity was the nature of Jesus vs. God the Father. Arius and his followers believed that Jesus had a separate existence and was subordinate to the Father. During the Council of Nicaea, Arius argued with others over the word homoousios (Greek 'homo'=same + 'ousios'=substance). This is the word that was translated into the Latin consubstantialem in the Nicene Creed, translated into English as "one in being." Arius argued for heteroousios ('hetero'=other).

The Trinity Shield; Arian or not?

After Nicaea and the defeat and outlawing of Arianism, a subset of Arius' followers modified their position and were willing to say that the Son and the Father were, not the same substance, but similar. The word they proposed to explain this was homoiousios ('homoi'=similar). These people are called the "Semi-Arians."* The addition of that single letter satisfied them; it did not, however, satisfy the strict Trinitarians, who refused to change. This gave rise to the phrase "it makes not one iota of difference."

Or did it? There really is no evidence for that origin, although it sounds good, and sufficiently obscure and scholarly that no one wants to argue with it.

Some try to tie this into Matthew, 5:18:

For truly, I say to you, until heaven and earth pass away, not an iota, not a dot, will pass from the Law until all is accomplished. [English Standard Version]

For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. [New Revised Standard Version]

The argument for this origin (I guess) is that an iota is the smallest imaginable amount of difference, or the smallest written bit of the law, and even that will/must not alter before the end comes.

There may be a simpler reason for the saying, however, that goes back to the Greek language itself. The letter iota could be the second part of a diphthong, and the first vowel could be long or short. If the first vowel were long, the iota lost strength and ceased to be pronounced, but in written Greek it was still added as a subscript below the preceding long vowel. So αι (alpha + iota) became ᾳ,  ηι (eta + iota) became ῃ. The iota, in some circumstances, became the least important letter, reduced in size as well as in the way it affected pronunciation. To me, this is a potential (and potent) origin story for an "iota of difference" being completely insignificant.

*By the way, Semi-Arianism is alive and well in 21st century America, apparently.

4 Stages of Gothic—Fiction

[This is Part 4; the other 3 parts address Gothic Culture & History, Gothic Architecture, and the Gothic Revival.]

The Gothic Revival of the 18th century, with its focus on the era of history that included large gloomy stone castles, the feudal system, and quests, spawned a taste for rejecting the burgeoning Age of Enlightenment. Into this society, caught between the future and the past, came Horace Walpole (1717-1797). He was the son of a Prime Minister—and that was the most mundane thing we can say about him.

Strawberry Hill, early Gothic Revival style

As the son of a PM, he fell in at Cambridge with the sons of other well-to-do men, but his own career was aimless for years. At Cambridge he was influenced by a very unorthodox theologian who taught him to reject superstition, yet Walpole is best known for a work that goes hand-in-hand with superstition. He left Cambridge without taking a degree. His mother was said to be the most important person in his life, but he never had a serious relationship with any other woman, and his biographers have labeled him "a natural celibate" and "asexual." His father managed to find him three positions that provided him with income and required little to no effort from him—or even his presence: he was able to spend a couple years during this time traveling Europe.

In 1749 he joined the new(old?)-fangled Gothic Revival when he rebuilt a house in the London suburb of Twickenham on the Gothic style. Some credit his Strawberry Hill house with starting the trend that found its peak during the time of Pugin (see link above). He wrote several works on history, gardening, art, and on Strawberry Hill. What we remember him for now, however, is a flight of fancy in 1764 called The Castle of Otranto. It is commonly reported that the subtitle was "A Gothic Story." The true original title was The Castle of Otranto, A Story. Translated by William Marshal, Gent. From the Original Italian of Onuphrio Muralto, Canon of the Church of St. Nicholas at Otranto.

Otranto combined elements that have become staples of the genre: the supernatural (doors opening for no reason, strange sounds), an imposing medieval setting, a family curse, a damsel in distress, a lost heir, knights, a brave hero. It was very popular. Until, that is, the second edition, when he decided to take credit for his work and revealed that it was a contemporary story. Eschewing the false history, he called it The Castle of Otranto, A Gothic Story. The critics were annoyed. Acceptable as a translated medieval work, as an Age of Enlightenment "forgery" it was considered substandard literature.

Entry of Frederick into the Castle of Otranto, by John Carter

These days, "Gothic Horror" or "Gothic Romance" are not considered "high art" any more than they were in Walpole's day, but the genre has survived, appealing to the public's desire for mystery, adventure, and a touch of the supernatural. And it's called "Gothic" because Walpole, who started the trend, used that term in the subtitle, drawing on the medieval themes of the "Gothic Revival" in art and architecture. The "Gothic Revival" was called that because it turned to Gothic architectural styles for building and re-building. That style was called "Gothic" as an insult, because post-medieval snobs associated that earlier style with the Goths and Vandals, although those ethnic groups had nothing to do with building those structures. And the original Goths you know about because you read this.

And that (kind of) is how the word "Goth" was passed down through millenia and got attached to things the original inhabitants of Götaland never would have imagined. (And I AM stopping there; the connection to the "Goth" subculture that started in the 1980s is one you can make for yourself.)

4 Stages of Gothic—Revival

[This is Part 3; the other 3 parts address Gothic Culture & History, Gothic Architecture, and Fiction.]

Augustus W. Pugin

In 1740, the reputation of the term "Gothic" took an odd turn. The style of architecture mis-named Gothic had been thoroughly denigrated in the previous century, but an 18th century antiquarian trend toward discovering the past and a re-awakening of interest in traditional church views combined to create a movement that looked to the past for inspiration rather than the future.

The so-called "Gothic Revival" grew over time, and influenced art and architecture throughout Europe, and reached Australia, Southern Africa and the Americas. Its spiritual center was England, however, and it found its true champion in the artist, architect and critic Augustus Welby Pugin (1812-1852).

House of Lords, Westminster

Pugin's father was a draughtsman who came to England from France, married Catherine Welby, and settled down to write volumes on architecture—notably Specimens of Gothic Architecture and the three-volume Examples of Gothic Architecture—and to teach his son to draw. Pugin worked in his father's office in his youth, but eventually started getting work of his own. An early job was to design furniture for Windsor Castle. Years later, after dabbling in bringing furniture and carvings from Flanders to England, he was convinced to go into architecture. His business of supplying architectural pieces to people building in the Gothic style failed. He went back to designing for others. He was 18 years old.

At 22, he converted to Roman Catholicism, which lost him some business but introduced him to new contacts. He was employed to make alterations and additions to Alton Towers by the 16th Earl of Shrewsbury, and then to build St. Giles Catholic Church, and then to design the Catholic church of Sts. Peter and Paul in Newport. His reputation grew, and he designed houses and churches and furnishings to satisfy the fans of the Revival. The interior of the House of Lords in Westminster is one of his most visible achievements.

But just because something can be done doesn't mean it should be done. The Gothic Revival under Pugin left nothing out: any feature of Gothic architecture could be re-used, no matter its original purpose. The Pugin chair pictured here, for instance, reminds me of one at the Pugin exhibit "A Gothic Passion" that I saw at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London in the early 1990s.* The back is carved as if it were the frame of a stained glass window. It employs the pointed arch that was such an important development in Gothic architecture because of the way it distributed the weight of the stone. Here, something that was vitally functional is made purely decorative. The hanging finials in the front of the chair are another architectural detail that, here, would be functional only if they were intended to impede the swinging of a small child's legs. It seems to me that much of the Gothic Revival style was intended to be as ornamental as possible, employing details that once had purpose but are, in this case, only something to look at, and that possibly make the object less comfortable.

*This may be the first time I have inserted my opinion and personal observation into a post, so I ask your forgiveness if it detracts from the information. I had a very strong negative reaction when I first saw Pugin's work, particularly a chair that had pointed arches upside-down carved into its back.

4 Stages of Gothic—Architecture

[This is Part 2; the other 3 parts address Gothic Culture & History, the Gothic Revival, and Fiction.]

Giorgio Vasari (1511-1574), artist and famous for his work on the lives of artists, once wrote:

Then arose new architects who after the manner of their barbarous nations erected buildings in that style which we call Gothic.

Gothic Cathedral of Chartres

John Evelyn (1620-1706), a prolific and opinionated English gardener, said of the style:

The ancient Greek and Roman architecture answered all the perfections required in a faultless and accomplished building ... [but Goths] ... introduced in their stead a certain fantastical and licentious manner of building, which we have since call'd Modern (or Gothic rather) congestions of heavy, dark, melancholy, monkish piles, without any just proportion, use or beauty, compar'd with the truly Antient. [A Parallel of the Ancient Architecture with the Modern, 1664]

Because the Goths had conquered Rome, they and their cousins the Vandals (whose name became a noun we still use) were reviled by those who revered Classical Greco-Roman culture and art. Later generations (like Vasari's and Evelyn's) used "Gothic" as pejorative. For modern art historians, however, Gothic architecture is less "barbarous" than the earlier style which we call "Romanesque."

Romanesque Cathedral, Lisbon

Romanesque is sometimes called Norman architecture: William of Normandy left England dotted with massive stone churches and castles that dominated—both architecturally and psychologically—the small neighboring wooden structures of the English people whom he had just conquered. The size of the buildings required a great deal of structural support. Barrel vaulting and semi-circular windows required thick walls and clustered columns to fight gravity as the weight of the arch pushed down and outward.

Gothic architecture was an evolutionary change created by the adoption of a few simple techniques. The pointed arch transferred the weight of the stonework down the sides of the framework, rather than pushing the supports outward. This allowed walls to be thinner. External supports called "flying buttresses" supported the walls and roof further, allowing larger windows. Both features let the architects build upward, making towers and roofs that swept heavenward. The larger windows brought more light inside, which was seen as a way to glorify God's splendor. This is all considered an improvement in sophistication—to those of us not living in the 17th century, that is.

Any historical Goths shown a picture of Gothic architecture would not understand why it was named after their culture. The use of the term "Gothic" gets even more removed from reality, however, a generation after John Evelyn spoke so vehemently against the style.

[to be continued]

Arian Christianity

In the theological free-for-all of the first few centuries after Jesus of Nazareth, different theories as to the nature of God and the divinity of Jesus abounded. Arianism, first mentioned here, was a version of Christianity begun by Arius of Alexandria (c.250-336)

Arius of Alexandria

Bishop Theophilus of Antioch (d.c.184 CE) was the first (that we know of; who knows how many early writings have been lost?) to present the concept of the Christian God as a Trinity, referring to "God, his Word (Logos) and his Wisdom (Sophia)"; this was in the Apologia ad Autolycum (Apology to Autolycus), a defense of Christianity written to a pagan friend.

Tertullian (c.160-c.225), sometimes called the "father of Latin Christianity" because of the enormous body of writings he left behind, defended the Trinity as Father, Son and Holy Ghost in his book Adversus Praxean (Against Praxeas). His purpose was to put down the view of Praxeas that, if Christianity were to be monotheistic, then Jesus and the holy Spirit could not be thought of as separate entities. Jesus must have been God incarnate, not a distinct "son of God" who was his own individual.

But Tertullian and others found multiple references to threes in the Old Testament, and they put these forth as prefigurations of the Trinity as it was revealed in the New Testament. Trinitarian Christology was on its way to becoming official doctrine.

Then Arius stepped forward and pointed to the Gospel of John, which read: “You heard me say, ‘I am going away and I am coming back to you.’ If you loved me, you would be glad that I am going to the Father, for the Father is greater than I." (John 14:28) It was clear to Arius that Jesus was subordinate to God in some way, and the Trinitarian view was wrong. Also, if the Son was begotten, then he had a point of origin, as opposed to the Father who always existed.

Many people got involved in the controversy: Origen, Eusebius, Lucian of Antioch, Alexander of Constantinople, Alexander of Alexandria, Socrates of Constantinople, Epiphanius of Salamis. Everyone who was anyone weighed in on just what the Trinity was. Then Emperor Constantine decided he needed clarification. He had legalized Christianity in 313 through the Edict of Milan, and he wanted to make sure Christianity didn't generate controversy. In 325 he called the first Council of Nicaea to resolve the growing issue of Arianism.

Icon of the Council of Nicaea

For two months, the two sides argued, each finding scriptural support. Supposedly, things got so heated at one point that Nicholas of Myra* slapped Arius' face. Constantine pushed the majority to create a statement; this became the Nicene Creed, which in Latin has the phrase

genitum non factum, consubstantialem Patri (begotten, not made, one in being with the Father)

The Emperor, in order to keep things simple, outlawed Arianism and insisted that all his works be burned. Arius was exiled. His ideas lived on under his name, however, especially among the Goths, until the 7th century. His ideas also lived on in the Emperor's son, Constantius II, who ruled after Constantine and was friendly to Arianism, even being baptized on his death-bed by a Semi-Arian bishop!

*Who would some day be known as St. Nicholas; yes, that St. Nicholas.

4 Stages of Gothic—History & Culture

[This is Part 1; the other 3 parts address Gothic Architecture, the Gothic Revival, and Fiction.]

From the Middle Ages until 1974, the Kings of Sweden claimed the title Rex Sweorum et Gothorum (King of Swedes and Goths). This was a very old title, connoting not control over the subculture begun in 1980s England, but the rule over a people that have long since been diluted from the European scene.

Current belief is that the various groups that are collectively (and perhaps erroneously) called "Goths" in classical and early medieval texts probably sprang from a single ethnic group that existed in the first millennium BCE. The word from which their name comes is related to the Geats of Beowulf fame, to Götaland and the island Gotland in southern Sweden, and of course lends itself to the tribes that were instrumental in the Fall of Rome: the Ostrogoths and Visigoths. Various sources, for instance the history Getica by the 6th century Roman Jordanes, tells us that Goths left Scandinavia in waves due to overcrowding and settled in various parts of eastern Europe. Eventually, they moved westward, attacking Byzantium and migrating as far as Crete and Cyprus. An attempt in 269CE to invade Italy was defeated by the Roman army, with heavy casualties on both sides. Two centuries later, however, the Goths would succeed in taking Rome.

The Goths were willing to absorb ideas from people they met. Their art was influenced by Greek and Roman styles. In turn, their methods of embedding gems and colored glass into objects made of gold was adopted by others and used for centuries.

Gothic alphabet and number symbols.

One idea they absorbed was Christianity. Bishop Wulfila (c.310-383) was a Greek-Goth Christian who fled with his followers to northern Bulgaria to escape persecution. There he developed the Gothic alphabet so that he could translate the Bible into the Gothic language. Although he managed to convert many Goths to Christianity, it was Arian Christianity. Arianism had been declared heretical, so when Arian Goths met other Christian groups, they were not always welcomed with open arms. In fact, some modern scholars believe Romans felt more threatened by the Arianism of the Goths than by the political changes that would result from conquest. As for Wulfila's alphabet and Bible: we have very few examples of Gothic writing. It is one of the earliest Germanic languages recorded, but it has completely died out and no modern languages are descended from it.

Although the Goths died out, however, their name endured.

Augustine of Hippo

Today is the feast day of Augustine of Hippo (354-28 August 430). He was born into a noble family in Thagaste, in what is now Algeria. We know a great deal about Augustine from St. Possidius, who was his disciple, friend and biographer, and from Augustine's own writing. His life was a journey through an early history of pagan and Christian philosophy—philosophy whose later form he shaped significantly.

A stamp commemorating his origin.

According to Augustine's biographical Confessions, while his mother (later, St. Monica) tried to raise him in the Christian faith, his father was an idolater who recognized his son's intelligence and spared no expense to make him a scholar. He praises the providence that helped him to be educated, despite his father's materialistic aims for him.

Before he was baptized a Christian, he dabbled in many other beliefs, such as the neo-Platonism of Plotinus. Before that he was influenced by Manichaeism, a major rival to Christianity for centuries and very popular among soldiers. Discussing the beliefs of Manichees is too complex to do here, but one thing that Augustine objected to when he switched to Christianity: the Manichaeistic view that knowledge was the key to salvation. He realized that knowledge alone did not lead him to fulfillment as a Christian.

His writings ranged over a wide area: he was anti-abortion, but agreed that the loss of an "unformed" fetus mentioned in Exodus 21:22-23 did not qualify as an abortion, since there was no evidence that a soul had entered the fetus yet.* He rejected astrology. He felt that the seven-week Creation in Genesis was not to be taken literally; God created all things at once. He believed in "just wars" instead of total Christian pacifism. He explained Original Sin not as carnal knowledge (which was a Manichaeistic view) but as either sheer foolishness followed by pride and disobedience to God, or as pride first because of their failure to accept God's hierarchy of things in the world. Although some Christian scholars rejected Jewish texts, Augustine pointed out that they were chosen by God as a special people, and should be allowed to co-exist with Christians; the Jews would ultimately be converted.

His numerous letters and sermons formed the basis for the growing religion. Much of his thought has remained the foundation of Christian theology through the present day.

*Note that these verses have been scrutinized carefully in recent times, and in some cases altered in translation to read differently.

Patent Law

With the world of technology enjoying heated debate over the Apple vs. Samsung patent ruling, I thought it would be interesting to look at the history of patents.

A 1381 letter patent for transfer of property, with king's seal.

According to American classical scholar Charles Anthon (1797-1867), the first known patent was granted in 500BCE in Sybaris in southern Italy. He tells us:

encouragement was held out to all who should discover any new refinement in luxury, the profits arising from which were secured to the inventor by patent for the space of a year. [Classical Dictionary, 1841]

In medieval Europe, the phrase "letter(s) patent" came into use to distinguish the decree from a "charter." The charter generally declared a law or right that was granted to a family or institution in perpetuity. The letter(s) patent declared a right to an individual and was of a finite duration. The letter patent was sent open, so that all could see it and be aware of the legal action it portended; this was distinct from "letters close," a private letter sent from a royal personage or from the chancery.

Letters patent were very specific, and the king was willing to grant them because he usually saw benefit from them. So, in 1331, Edward III grants a patent to John Kempe, a Flemish weaver, as an inducement for skilled foreign labor to settle in England and instruct the English in advanced textile-related techniques. This, of course, would greatly benefit the economy of England in the future. Note that this was not a patent (in the current sense) for protection on an invention; it was a letter of "protection" to allow a foreign worker to ply his trade without threat from rival local workers.

The idea of a "patent" in the modern sense—the right to use your own invention in public without fear that someone would copy it and benefit from it—comes a little later. In 1421, Florentine architect Filippo Brunelleschi (1377-1446) received a three-year patent granting him exclusivity on his invention: a barge with a hoisting device to transport slabs of marble. A generation later, in 1449, Henry VI of England granted what is considered the first true English patent to John of Utynam for his method of making colored glass. John, a Flanders native like Kempe, got 20 years of exclusive benefit for his methods; his first commission was to make windows for Eton College.

In 1474, Venice declared that any new inventions must be presented to the public so that the inventor could be granted the right to prevent their theft by others. This is considered the beginning of the modern approach to patents.

The Tun

Current robes, Mayor of London.

Henry le Waleis (?-c.1302) was a prominent citizen of London who served as alderman in two different wards, was elected sheriff in 1270, and became mayor in 1273. Law enforcement seems to have been a serious consideration of his during his time in public office: in 1270 as sheriff he erected a new pillory for bakers who tried to cheat customers by selling underweight loaves of bread.

Waleis had several butcher and fishmonger stalls removed to make a better passageway for the king when he traveled in and out of London. These merchants were upset, and challenged the change with the former mayor, Walter Hervey, on their side. But when Hervey had strong words with Waleis, Waleis had Hervey arrested and imprisoned; he was tried and demoted from his position as alderman. To be fair, Waleis did have new buildings constructed in 1282 in a different part of London for the butchers and fishmongers.

In 1283, in the Cornhill area of London, he built a prison for the temporary incarceration of "night-walkers." Night-walkers were people found wandering the city after curfew. Night-watchmen would patrol the city, checking to make sure you had legitimate reasons for being outside at night. A servant who carried a message from his employer giving a reason for travel, and who carried a light (to prove he was not hiding his actions), would be allowed to go on his way. Someone with no light could be deemed "suspicious." Transgressors were held for the night and turned over to the mayor and aldermen in the morning. It was called "The Tun" because it resembled a tun or cask used for wine, stood on end and crenelated at the top..

Strangers and suspicious characters were an important issue for the mayor. Waleis made sure that the city gates had sergeants who were "fluent of speech" in order to question strangers to the city. He also arranged that parish churches would coordinate so that their bells rang curfew at the same time, whereupon gates and taverns were all to close.

An Ordinance of the city directed that bakers and millers found cheating their customers would be drawn (dragged) to the Tun. Waleis provided a wooden hurdle to which the malefactor would be strapped and then drawn through the streets for a touch of public humiliation before his incarceration. Also, if a priest were found with a woman, he would be drawn to the Tun with minstrels playing in order to draw even more attention to his misbehavior. (This practice was eventually eliminated. The Church convinced the King that the laity should not authority over the clergy.)

It's the Economy, Stupid!

Even fans of the Middle Ages probably would never think to pair the phrase "economic theory" with the adjective "medieval." It would be a mistake, however, to assume that medieval thinkers were not aware of the needs and changes of the local economy. The 14th century alone saw some radical economic events, like the collapse of some Italian banking institutions. Whether this can truly be ascribed, wholly or in part, to Edward III, it is true that his administration spent larger sums of money than was prudent. The Black Death also had an effect on economy.

Merchants fueled a thriving middle class.

During the economic shifts of the 14th century, an anonymous poet wrote an alliterative poem addressing the topic of those who spend lavishly and those who are more frugal and prefer to make and save money. The poem probably would have been lost if not for the efforts of Robert Thornton, who in the 15th century made a hobby of collecting manuscripts. His copy of the poem—the only version we have—may have textual errors due to hasty copying. Still, it offers us an interesting look at that society.

The poem is called Wynnere and Wastoure, and refers to Winners (who earn money) and Wasters (who are extravagant with money). The narrator, while walking on a sunny day, falls asleep by a stream and has a dream-vision. (This is a common way to begin an allegory.) In the dream, Winner and Waster each lead an army. Just before their battle begins, a messenger arrives who summons them before the king, who will listen to their argument and resolve their issues definitively.

This he fails to do. After listening to the arguments of the two, the king gives an ambiguous judgment, condemning each as unbalanced practices but endorsing both as necessary actions in society—although the king does point out that Winner will never be able to keep up with Waster. Thornton's manuscript breaks off at line 503, so any conclusion after his judgment is lost to us.

Internal evidence in the poem suggests a date of composition prior to 1370: it mentions a Chief Justice, William Shareshull, who died in 1370. That would place the composition in the reign of Edward III, and it is generally accepted by scholars that the king of the poem is meant to represent Edward, who himself would have had constant dealing with "wasting" because of his expenses on wars and living well, and with the "winners" of a growing and increasingly wealthy middle class.

That's "Positively Medieval!"

It is not uncommon for the term "medieval" to be used negatively, to connote an action or opinion that is primitive or uncivilized, or that displays outright savagery. There is, of course, much discussion among medievalists who feel this does a disservice to a time that, to borrow from C.S. Lewis, was "not a matter of having no manners, as having different manners."*

There is a recent story in the U.S. political realm, however, whose medieval roots are difficult to ignore. It's time, therefore, to take a brief look at some early law books at the beginning of Western Civilization to see if we can explain some of the modern attitudes that some of us would call "positively medieval."

Fleta was published not earlier than 1290, and probably shortly after. It is a 557-page Latin book of English laws found in the Cotton Library. It seems to be largely a re-write of the De Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliæ (On the Laws and Customs of England) of Henry Bracton (c.1210-1268). Fleta contains some early laws that support ideas that are still with us. For instance, in one place, it says:

Those who have dealings with Jews or Jewesses, those who commit bestiality, and sodomists, are to be buried alive after legal proof that they were taken in the act, and public conviction.**

It should be noted that the penalty of burial alive is not known to have been carried out at any time. Fleta also contains the following clause while discussing rape, which has become a very popular topic this week:

If, however, the woman should have conceived at the time alleged in the appeal, it abates, for without a woman's consent she could not conceive.

The claim is that if a woman conceives during intercourse, she cannot claim rape. The belief was that part of the mechanism for conception of a child was the love between the husband and wife, and their enjoyment of the act. If the pleasure were missing, conception could not occur.

I mention Fleta because it is being quoted this week in public forums. In fact, more than one compendium of laws existed early on. One of them, called Britton, was contemporaneous with Fleta. Britton was written in French, was very similar to Fleta (having drawn from the same sources), was more organized and codified, and was probably turned to more over time because French was a more accessible language to a majority than Latin. Like the U.S. Constitution, which denied equality to women and blacks, these works are interesting historical documents that deserve to be discussed but need to be amended if we expect to actually apply them to the modern world.

*From That Hideous Strength, when describing the eating methods of the recently-revived 6th century Merlin.
**The 1290 date can be surmised because that is the year Jews were declared "outlaw" in England, and given the choice of Expulsion or conversion and a kind of "house arrest" in the London "Converts' Inn." Prior to this, "dealings with Jews" would have been typical.

Treason

Nowadays, when the word "traitor" is used casually to refer to someone who has decided he likes "Hunger Games" better than "Harry Potter," and when Freedom of Speech tolerates numerous calumnies against political leaders, it is difficult to imagine the enormity of the charge of treason centuries ago. "Traitor" comes into English from the French traitour, which in turn is from Latin traditor, "one who hands over." It is directly connected in the medieval mind with Judas Iscariot turning over Jesus to the authorities.

If medieval kings were duly anointed and therefore had God behind them, betraying a king was akin to blasphemy. Only the harshest of punishments was suitable for treason: to be hanged, drawn and quartered; however, a woman was burnt at the stake (the quartering of her body would result in people seeing naked lady parts, and that was unacceptable in a civilized society), and nobles convicted of treason had the more genteel conclusion of beheading.

Edward III

The difficulty with treason was the flexibility of the charge. During the time of Edward III (1312-1377), the courts sometimes declared as treason crimes that others would consider mere felonies, or acts that infringed on the king's power. By this loose definition, gathering firewood in the king's hunting grounds could be prosecuted as treason. The Treason Act of 1351 clarified the position of the Crown and Parliament, splitting offenses into high and petty treason. Petty treason was the killing of your (non-king) superior, and was abolished in 1828.

High treason could be achieved by numerous actions:

• Killing (or planning to kill) the King, his wife, or his heir
• Violating the King's wife, the King's unmarried eldest daughter, the wife of the King's heir
• Warring against the King
• Providing aid and comfort to the King's enemies
• Counterfeiting the Great Seal or Privy Seal
• Counterfeiting English currency
• Killing an acting Chancellor, Treasurer, or a King's Justice

The Act took no chances, however, that new forms of treason would be thought of, and allowed for them in the future:

And because that many other like Cases of Treason may happen in Time to come, which a Man cannot think nor declare at this present Time; it is accorded, That if any other Case, supposed Treason, which is not above specified, doth happen before any Justices, the Justices shall tarry without any going to Judgement of the Treason till the Cause be shewed and declared before the King and his Parliament, whether it ought to be judged Treason or other Felony.

Changes have been made over the centuries. For instance, although the Treason Act of 1351 still holds in Scotland (because Parliament has not given Scotland the power to change it), it is no longer treason in England (as of 1861) to copy the Great Seal. Also, counterfeiting was reduced to a felony in 1832.

Ultimate Torture

We have so often heard the phrase "hanged, drawn and quartered" that we probably don't think about the details--or perhaps we simply ignore the details because our imaginations can supply them quite readily. The truth is, however, that the phrase became standard despite the fact that it could mean different things.

From the Chronica majora of Matthew Paris.

"Hanged" is pretty self-explanatory, "quartering" we can picture, but it's the "drawn" that presents confusion, since in the case of execution it can mean two things. On the one hand, it can refer to being dragged to the place of execution, either by being tied directly to a horse, or by being tied to a board that is dragged by a horse (the second method was developed so that the victim had a chance to be still alive and capable of further suffering). Matthew Paris illustrates an example of the first method in his Chronicle when he relates the story of a would-be assassin of Henry III. This story, in fact, is the earliest example we have of the multi-phase style of execution that evolved into "HDaQ." There was a second meaning of "draw" that applied to this punishment, however, for which I (thankfully) do not have an illustration: to draw out the intestines/organs of a person. We have several written accounts of this taking place, however.

Was there a distinction between HDaQ and DHaQ? That is, if the sentence was "hanged, drawn and quartered" did it always mean the convicted was disemboweled between the hanging and the quartering? Scholars disagree on this, and there is a case to be made that having "drawn" in the second position in the phrase could mean the convict was dragged, not disemboweled; it was merely mentioned second (although it might have taken place first, to get the convicted to the gallows) because it was not as significant as the hanging itself.

Whatever the case, the hanging was the trickiest part, because the goal was to strangle the victim just enough, but not kill him outright: you wanted him alive so he could suffer during the next step(s). The plan didn't always work: one victim was so hated that members of the crowd pulled down on his legs while he was hanging and hastened his death, and Guy Fawkes of Gunpowder Plot fame threw himself from the gallows platform, breaking his neck and cheating the Crown of its chance to punish him further.

Still, even if you survived the hanging and drawing—whichever definition was used—you usually weren't conscious (much less living) once the quartering started. So was the quartering essential to the process? Sure, because quartering wasn't part of the sentence for its value as torture. Quartering was important so that different body parts could be sent to different parts of the kingdom to be put on display as a warning to others who might be contemplating treason. The head, of course, was often prominently displayed on London Bridge, the major southern entrance into London, so that visitors and citizens could see it. I wonder if the mob of the Peasants Revolt saw any heads as they marched on London?

Geometry in Nature

The Fibonacci series, mentioned here, has been found to correlate to patterns found in nature. There is no evidence that Fibonacci himself ever made the connection between his arithmetical progression and the world around him, but the link between math and nature was recognized in other ways in the Middle Ages.

There is a unique manuscript called "The Sketchbook of Villard de Honnecourt." We know nothing about Villard except what can be gleaned from the internal evidence of this manuscript, which seems to be a notebook of his travels and interests. MS Fr 19093 now is in the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris; it has been extensively copied and studied since it became widely known in 1849.

From the language and the 250 drawings found in his 33-page manuscript, we assume he was an architect from Picardy in northern France (there is a village called Honnecourt-sur-l'Escault in Picardy), traveling in the early-to-mid 1200s. Although architectural features make up the majority of his sketches (and presumably his interest) by far, there is no documentary evidence that he ever was connected with the design or construction of a building; nor did he sign his name with a title such as "master," to which he would have been entitled had he trained as an architect.

Still, he seems particularly introduced in buildings, drawing detailed façades of Laon and Reims Cathedral, a clocktower, the geometry of buildings; but he also depicts animals and insects, sculptures and mechanical devices such as a trebuchet, a machine for lifting heavy objects, a self-operating saw, a crossbow that never misses, and a perpetual motion machine. Alas, he draws them without explaining how to make them work.

Some of his notes, such as the one attached to the Lion shown above, are suspect. It is a very good drawing, but the caption tells us "Here is a lion seen from the front. Please remember that he was drawn from life." It seems unlikely that he saw a lion himself. The porcupine on the same page has the note "a little beast that shoots its quills when aroused," which tells us that he was getting his information from traditional bestiaries, not from real-life observation. On the lion's face you can still see the faint symmetrical guidelines he drew to start the artistic process.

Sketching guidelines was not an unusual start for medieval artists. Villard, however, offers us several examples of the correlation between geometry and representations of organic figures. Shown to the right is Page XXXVI of his manuscript, in which he shows how geometry fits into faces and figures.

His note in the bottom of the page depicted here says "Here begins the method of representation as taught by the art of geometry, to facilitate work. Elsewhere you will find the method of masonry."

A brief video showing some of his pages is here:

Medieval Bluetooth

The symbol shown here is used for the modern wireless communications protocol called "Bluetooth," created by the telcommunications company Ericsson. If you are at all familiar with the Runic system, it might look familiar in a different way because of its straight lines and angles. That is because it is a combination of the Runes Hagall ("h") and Bjarkan ("b"). And the reason for using the letters B and H is because they are the initials of the 10th century King of Denmark and Norway, Harald Bluetooth.

Harald "Bluetooth" Gormsson (c.935-986) was the son of the first historically recognized King of Denmark. Harald created the largest of the Jelling Stones (his father had set up the first). These commemorative stones carry inscriptions that include the earliest reference to Denmark as a nation. He also conducted important building projects, including a half-dozen massive stone ring forts and the oldest known bridge in southern Scandinavia, the half-mile long stone Ravninge Bridge (no longer extant).

He seemed to prefer negotiating over fighting, and managed to join and keep Danish tribes together, and briefly ruled Norway (okay, that was by force, after their king was assassinated). Perhaps it was his less-aggressive nature that made him amenable to Christianity, although the stories of his conversion are varied. One says he converted on a dare, when a monk named Poppa "proved" the power of God by carrying a heavy brand from the fire without being harmed. One story says he was converted against his will when he had been defeated by Otto I (founder of the Holy Roman Empire). Another account (written centuries after Harald's death) says it was Otto II who forced him to convert. Whatever the case, Harald converted in the 960s, and took it seriously: he transferred his father's body from a pagan-style grave in an ancient mound to a church.

This commemorates Harald's conversion.

But how did this all turn into a modern wireless protocol being named after Harald's nickname? And where did the nickname come from? The commonly repeated legend is that Harald loved and ate blueberries so much that his teeth were stained blue. A different (and not as attractive) story is that at least one of his teeth was diseased and took on a dark tinge, looking "blue" to some. This ties into one of the many legends of his Christian conversion: that he suffered from toothache and converted because Christian prayer was the only thing that took the pain away.

Whatever! What we can document is that one of the developers of the Bluetooth technology was reading a historical novel about Harald on the side. He felt that his protocol would unite different devices in a way analogous to Harald uniting different tribes in Denmark, instead of having them conflict with each other. He proposed calling the protocol Blåtand, Harald's nickname in Scandinavian. Although early Ericsson documents use this name, it formally became the English word "Bluetooth™"; I have read that folk in Scandinavian countries frequently use Blåtand instead of the official English name.

Frederick II

Frederick II of Sicily (1194-1250) has crossed the path of this blog more than once, but has not yet been featured.

He declared the Edict of Salerno, separating physicians and pharmacists.
Frederick was interested in math and science, and was friendly to and supportive of Fibonacci.
He promised to go on the Fifth Crusade, mentioned here, but never participated; he was blamed for its failures by Christians all over Europe as well as Pope Honorius III (who had been Frederick's tutor while young).

From the time he was declared Holy Roman Emperor in 1220 until his death 30 years later, he was a tremendous influence on science and culture, but a difficulty for popes and religion—odd, considering he willingly took the title Holy Roman Emperor. Although Pope Innocent III was his guardian growing up, Frederick often said blasphemous things, supposedly mocking Moses and Jesus and Mohammed for being frauds. His public attitude toward religion was unusual for his era and position, and Dante's Inferno places him in the circle of hell reserved for heretics.

He was, however, also possessed of a rationalism that was unusual for his era. He hired Arabs/Muslims as soldiers and personal guards; he hired Jewish scholars to be at his court. He pointed out the unfairness of trials by ordeal, because the stronger man would always win regardless of guilt or innocence. He hired the mathematician and scholar Michael Scot (of whom Honorius III thought very highly) to, among other things, make new translations of Aristotle and Arabian works into Latin. Michael Scot's translation of Aristotle was done with the help of Hermannus Alemannus ("Herman the German").

He had three wives and several mistresses. His third wife was Isabella of England, the daughter of King John Lackland. It was a political marriage, taken on because marrying an English princess would make his political opponents lose support from England. Once Isabella arrived in Sicily, she was sent to live in seclusion in Padua with only two of her English retainers.

Although Frederick had a profound and positive impact on laws and science, his personal manner made him many enemies and detractors. The Hohenstaufen lineage, which had included Frederick Barbarossa, lost power after Frederick II's death.

The Abacus

After mentioning Fibonacci's work, the Liber Abacus, it occurred to me that the place of the abacus in history deserved a little attention.

The Salamis Tablet, 300 BCE

Like the etymology for book, the word "abacus" does not start out to "mean" a frame with wires and beads. The word "abacus" first enters print in the English language in 1387. The Latin word from which it is lifted refers to a sandboard, a counting board covered in sand that allows you to draw with your finger. Latin took the word from the Greek abax, abakos, a board covered with sand for the purpose of drawing figures and calculating. At some point, the sand was replaced with counters of wood or stone that were moved from column to column for calculations, and the board itself was designed to facilitate calculations

In 1846, on the island of Salamis, a white marble counting board was discovered. The Salamis Tablet has been studied extensively, and one scholar has made a video of its proper use.

But when did abacus come to refer to the wooden frame with beads on wires? A reconstruction of a 1st century Roman abacus shows a board with grooves to keep the round beads in line. Visually, it resembles the abacus with which we are familiar. Gerbert of Aurillac (c.946-1003), one of the most influential scientific minds of his era, pushed the use of the abacus as a method of calculating much more swiftly than when using Roman numerals. He was able to promote its use even more when he became Pope Sylvester II.

The abacus in the form we think of it seems to come from China in the 2nd century BCE. Called a suanpán ("counting tray"), it was built with rods that held beads, 2 on an upper deck and 5 on a lower. Now called the "2/5 abacus," the two decks allowed the user to use larger numbers without adding 1+1+1+1, etc. Other versions had different numbers of rods, and different numbers of beads on them.

Abacus showing 87,654,321

Visually, it is very much like the Roman abacus mentioned above. Commerce between Rome and China was not unknown, but a direct influence cannot be proven. Still, the wooden-framed Chinese suanpán was so much like the Roman abacus that it was natural that the West would use the same name for the new device. In fact, no one type of the many objects used for calculating universally replaced the others. Counting boards of clay or wax were used well past the Middle Ages. In fact, until just after 2000, some accounting schools in China required proficiency in using the bead abacus.

Fibonacci

While the foundation of the Tower of Pisa was being being laid, a man was born nearby who developed math skills that might have helped the ill-fated architectural wonder.
Leonardo Pisano ("of Pisa") (c.1175-c.1250) was the son of Guglielmo Bonacci. Although known as "Leonardo Pisano" during his lietime, he signed his name "Bonacci" on his writings; an 1838 writer referred to him as "Fibonacci"—short for filius Bonacci ("son of Bonacci")—and the name stuck with his modern fans.

His father was a customs officer in Algeria, and between living there and traveling around the coast of the Mediterranean, Leonardo grew up exposed to education outside of the Greco-Roman/Western European tradition. He recognized the advantages of the Hindu-Arabic system of numbers over using Roman numerals, and worked to popularize it in Europe, starting with his 1202 work Liber Abaci ("Book of the Abacus" or "Book of Calculating"). In it, he presented to Europe the decimal system by which we all learn the four basic mathematical functions in school.

Calculating with the four functions in a decimal system.

The decimal system, with its "places" for ones and tens and hundreds, etc.,  was much "neater" than the system of Roman numerals and included a digit for "zero." Roman numerals had no "zero," and the words null or nihil were used to express a lack of something. The Roman tradition had great difficulty with the concept of "nothing" in math, because it seemed inappropriate to have a "something" that would indicate a "nothing."

If people have heard of Fibonacci in the present day, it is usually because of a particular sequence of numbers associated with him. In Chapter 12 of the Liber Abaci, he presents a math problem: how many rabbits are created in one year starting with one pair? After describing the progression in words, he shows the number progression as 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21, 34, 55, 89, 144, 233, 377. Examples of this series existed prior to Fibonnaci, and it is likely that he was simply repeating something he had learned, but 19th century mathematician Edouard Lucas called this sequence the Fibonacci numbers. They have been found to relate to many phenomena found in nature. (A thorough discussion is impossible here, but look.)

A webpage with some simple representations of the Fibonacci sequence is here.

The First Female Professor of Medicine

The medical school in Salerno had on its staff the first well-known female physician and professor of medicine. Sadly, we know nothing of her personal life, not even her dates: her existence at Salerno in the 11th or 12th centuries is inferred from the handful of texts she wrote or contributed to. Fortunately, her texts were considered important enough that they were preserved and copied, translated and distributed throughout Europe.

Trotula

Her name was Trotula (listen here for pronunciation), and we find it on several texts. The best-known is the three works collectively known as La Trotula.

• Conditions of Women—based on the Latin translation of an Arabic work, with additions of several Latin-based passages that had been around for awhile.
• Treatments for Women—"a disorganized collection of empirical cures with only a thin theoretical overlay."*
• Women's Cosmetics—a head-to-toe listing of ways to beautify all aspects of a woman's appearance, with no medicinal applications.

Although there are conditions that make no sense to modern medicine (such as a "wandering womb"), there are also techniques that we would consider very sound, such as using opium on the patient during childbirth (defying church tradition that women should suffer; see Genesis 3:16), and using silk thread to repair tears that occur in childbirth.

Some scholars have attributed these works to a man, perhaps through simple chauvinism, but also because it is believed that the frank addressing of gynecological topics would be too indelicate for a female author of the era. The author of La Trotula, however, self-identifies in the texts as a woman, and the analysis of history is always turning up surprises that challenge modern notions of medieval sensibilities. Also, in Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, the book of wicked wives read by the Wife's husband Jankyn includes the name "Trotula." However little we may know of her now, it seems she developed a reputation that preserved her name for at least a couple centuries after her prime.

*Quotation from The Trotula: An English Translation of the Medieval Compendium of Women's Medicine, by Monica Green.

The Edict of Salerno

Salerno, located on the lower "shin" of Italy's southwest coast, has been occupied continuously since pre-historic times, frequently changing hands due to the many wars in the peninsula. Despite the changing political landscape, however, at least one feature of Salerno rose to a prominence that it held for several centuries, through several political shifts.

We don't know precisely when the Schola Medica Salernitana (Medical School of Salerno) was founded, but at some point, the dispensary of a 9th century monastery became a focal point for medical study and earned the title of the first medical school in history. Because of the fame of the school, Salerno became known as the "Town of Hippocrates."

The School today.

One of its unique qualities for the time was that it not only was well-versed in the Greco-Roman traditions of Hippocrates, Galen, Dioscorides and others. Its proximity to North Africa and Sicily gave it access to Arabic learning (Sicily was under Arab control from 956 until 1072). In fact, it was the arrival in 1077 of the Tunisian Muslim merchant-turned-monk Constantinus Africanus that started a Golden Age at the school. He compiled the Liber Pantegni (Book of All Arts).  It was (as is typical for the time) largely a collection of the work of others, but it drew together Greek and Arabic medical knowledge in what is called the earliest surviving Western medical treatise [source].

Salerno produced other medical texts as well. A 12th century pair named Johannes and Matthaeus Plantearius wrote the Liber de Simplici Medicina (Book of Simple Medicine). Several books on gynecology and cosmetics were created by the most famous woman doctor of the time.

Salerno thrived, even after Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II declared the Edict of Salerno. The Modern Age would approve of the Edict: it created a legal separation between physicians and apothecaries. Physicians could no longer prescribe medicines that they themselves prepared and sold. The Edict also fixed prices to prevent overcharging the sick. Over time, this Edict was copied throughout Europe, and we have reason to be glad that similar regulations exist today.

The Two Kings Henry

Henry, the young king.

For a time, the Capetian Dynasty in France had the habit of naming and actually crowning the king's heir in the old king's lifetime. King Stephen and King Henry II of England adopted this policy. In June 1170, King Henry II crowned his 15-year-old son Henry. Watching the ceremony would have been the 13-year-old Richard (later King and Lionheart), 12-year-old Geoffrey, and 3-year-old John (later "Bad King John").

"Young King Henry" (1155-1183) was considered handsome, charming, and popular; however, he showed no apparent skill or interest in politics, military skill, or even ordinary intelligence. For these reasons, it is probably good that his father never entrusted him with any authority. In fact, Henry II seems to have used his son as a political tool.

• Henry was betrothed to Margaret, daughter of Louis VII of France, on the condition that her dowry would be the Vexin, the border region between the England-held Normandy and France itself. (A nice expansion of England's property on the continent.)
• Because Pope Alexander III needed help dealing with Frederick I, Holy Roman Emperor, he acquiesced to Henry's request to allow the children to be married in 1160, giving England the Vexin. (There was no ceremony until 1172.)
• Henry had the royal wedding officiated by the Archbishop of York instead of the Archbishop of Canterbury, as was customary. This was likely an attempt to put the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Beckett, in his place. (He would be dead six months later.)

The benefit of naming your heir early was to avoid disputes at the senior king's death over the succession. In this case, however, since young Henry would inherit vast lands with the throne, he was given a house and staff and large income—and even one of the most respected men of the age, William Marshal, as a tutor in arms—but not provinces and territories like his younger brothers. Consequently, his brothers had more power than he. This would have rankled the young king while his father lived on...and on.*

In 1173, Henry the young king led a rebellion with his brothers, his mother,  the kings of France and Scotland, the Count of Flanders, et alia, against his father (this really was the most turbulent family in the Middle Ages). The same qualities and actions that brought Henry II rivals and enemies, however, also brought him great wealth, and he was able to hire sufficient mercenary forces to put down what was later called the Great Rebellion. (It was the English opposition to all the foreign mercenaries on England's soil that prompted Henry to create the Assize of Arms.)

Young Henry rebelled again in 1183 against his father and his brother, Richard, over Richard's iron-fisted rule of the Duchy of Aquitaine. Henry had the help of his brother Geoffrey and Aquitaine locals who were willing to throw off Richard's rule, but the sudden death of the young king on June 11, 1183, ended the attempt. He was a little over 28 years old. King Philip of France, the brother of Margaret, lost little time in asking for the return of her dowry, the Vexin.** Instead of the land, France accepted an annual payment from Henry II.

Because he never ruled, he is not counted in the list of Kings of England. He is neglected by history in favor of his younger brothers, but he is not without fans: a recent website is devoted to him.


*Queen Elizabeth should be glad that the House of Windsor does not appear to have any of the Plantagenet temper.
**The 1967 movie The Lion in Winter is a highly fictionalized—and highly entertaining—account of this meeting.

Roger of Hoveden

One of the men who went on the Third Crusade (talked about here and here), wrote accounts of some of the events of that adventure, notably The Fall of Jerusalem, 1187 and Laws of Richard I (Coeur de Lion) Concerning Crusaders Who Were to Go by Sea. He didn't witness the Fall of Jerusalem himself, however, having gone over with Richard I in August 1190 and returning to Europe in August 1191 with Phillip II of France.

Roger of Hoveden (d.1201?) was unknown to history until 1174, when Henry II sent him on a secret mission to the lords of Galloway in southwest Scotland. His name suggests he was born in what is now called Howden, in Yorkshire. His death date is inferred from the fact that one of his historical works, called the Chronica, breaks off suddenly at 1201.

The Chronica (Chronicles) is an attempt (like the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle) to create a comprehensive history of England. For the parts of English history preceding his own life, he mostly just copies earlier works. From 732-1170, he uses other works. From 1170-1192, he copies his own earlier work, the Gesta Henrici II et Gesta Regis Ricardi (Works of Henry II and Works of King Richard).* The Gesta is the best evidence that Hoveden must have been well-connected at Henry's court: he shows detailed knowledge of political events, and is more sympathetic to Henry's side in the ongoing disputes between Henry and his sons and others. From 1192 until its abrupt end in 1201, the Chronica (along with the Gesta) is a valuable tool for understanding some of the changes in England's constitutional development.

Here is an excerpt from the Chronica for 1183, with what might seem an interesting puzzle:

In the year of grace 1183, being the twenty-ninth year of the reign of king Henry, son of the empress Matilda, the said king of England was at Caen, in Normandy, on the day of the Nativity of our Lord; the king also, and Richard and Geoffrey, ... . After the Nativity of our Lord, the king ordered the king, his son, to receive homage from Richard, earl of Poitou, and from Geoffrey, earl of Brittany, his brothers; on which, in obedience to his father, he received the homage of his brother Geoffrey, and was willing to receive it from his brother Richard, but Richard refused to do homage to him; and afterwards, when Richard offered to do homage to him, the king, the son, refused to receive it. Richard, feeling greatly indignant at this, withdrew from the court of the king, his father, and going to Poitou, his own territory, built there some new castles and fortified the old ones.

Does it seem to you that there are two kings mentioned here? There are. Tomorrow we'll look at when England had two Kings Henry at the same time.

*This work was originally attributed to Abbot Benedict of Peterborough, because his name appeared on a copy in Benedict's library. Benedict's library-building habits are well-known, however, and evidence exists that he had a copy of the Gesta made from its original source.