The Talbot Dog

The dog pictured here is the Talbot Dog or Talbot Hound.  The Talbot was a hunting dog popular in the Middle Ages. I saw was because the breed has been extinct for at least two centuries.

Hunting hounds are bred and used for different skills. There are hunting dogs used for their ability to scent things, some for their ability to see better, and some for their ability to dig into burrows. We don't know what the Talbot was used for, but the short legs and large feet would make it good for digging.

The Talbot was linked to John Talbot, 1st Earl of Shrewsbury (the kneeling man in this post with a Talbot Dog behind him). Henry VI called him "Talbot, oure good dogge." This may have to do with Talbot's "doggedness" at pursuing the French during the Hundred Years' War. Or just a joke. The Talbot is not on the coat of arms of either the Talbot family or the Earls of Shrewsbury until much later than the 15th century. (Regarding heraldry: the Talbot and the greyhound are the only two dogs found in English heraldry.)

Talbots seem to have died out by the end of the 18th century. The only place they are seen now besides heraldic emblems is on signs for public houses. You can also see a Talbot carved in stone at Canterbury Cathedral in the coat of arms of one-time Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Chancellor of England Simon Sudbury. You can see Simon himself—or rather, his skull—at a different church.  That's a story for tomorrow, however. 

The Talbot Shrewsbury Book

The picture in this post shows the 1st Earl of Shrewsbury presenting a book to Margaret of Anjou, wife of King Henry VI. The earl, John Talbot, was highly praised by Henry, who named him Constable of France—this was merely honorary, since Henry didn't really control France. Pictured here is the entire first page.

The book is real. It is known as the Talbot Shrewsbury Book (also known as British Royal Library 15 E vi). It is a beautifully illustrated collection of 15 legends, stories, and other information written by several authors. Talbot commissioned it for Henry and Margaret's wedding in 1445. The book includes the illustration of Talbot presenting it to Margaret

Made of parchment bound in 440 pages, it is an example of Medieval/Renaissance book production at its height. The contents start out looking appropriate as a wedding gift for a queen, but near the end they become something else.

The Romance of Alexander the Great is followed by five tales of Charlemagne. After that are two Anglo-Norman prose romances, the story of King Horn and the Romance of Guy of Warwick (one of the most popular medieval romances). There follows a highly creative history of the Crusades.

The last 140+ pages seem to be less oriented toward a queen and more toward a queen's son, leading some to think it was intended for a future son of Margaret and Henry. There is a scholarly dialogue on war and battle, then a Mirror for Princes, a history of Normandy from the 8th century to 1217, a poem about chivalry, and the rules for the Order of the Garter.

If you look closely at the picture, you'll see a little white dog behind the kneeling Earl of Shrewsbury. This is the Talbot Dog, and it has its own place in history, which I'll talk about next.

The Hundred Years' War, Part 4

(If you want to see parts one and two and three.)

If we follow Shakespeare's themes, King Henry V surprised his subjects when his coronation transformed him into an able and savvy ruler, as compared to the frivolous youth he had recently been.

He had plenty of military experience, however, prior to his father's death. He had commanded the English forces in Wales during the revolt of Owain Glendower. By 1410, with Henry IV ailing, the 24-year-old young Henry had been running much of the government (albeit with the help of his uncles, Henry and Thomas Beaufort; Thomas was named Chancellor at this time).

Still, Henry might have been content to rule England when he was crowned on 9 April 1413, but for the situation in France. Charles VI—whose first bout with delirium happened at the age of 24 in 1392, when he attacked his own men during a military expedition—was becoming increasingly unstable. Placed under the regency of two uncles, the Dukes of Berry and Burgundy, he became a pawn between them and his own brother, the Duke of Orléans, who wanted control by being a regent. These opposing forces created the Armagnac-Burgundian Civil War that lasted from 1407 until 1435.

A France in military and political turmoil looked ripe for a resumption of hostilities; and France had given support to Owain Glendower. Meddling in England's affairs was reason enough.

Henry sailed for France on 12 August 1415. His first target was the principal seaport of Harfleur. The siege took weeks, and dysentery hit the English troops hard. Henry had to leave a part of his army in Harfleur while he marched toward Calais, but an approaching French army forced him inland, away from his ships and his target. Unfortunately, this move by the French forced the encounter at Agincourt, where the French soldiers were bogged down in the muddy fields, making them easy targets for the longbow men commanded by Henry. The victory of the English was sufficient to lead to the Treaty of Troyes, in which Charles "disinherited" his son: Henry V would become King of France upon Charles' death. Charles' daughter Catherine de Valois married Henry in 1420. They had a son, Henry.

The deaths of both Charles V and Henry V within two months of each other in 1422. Henry VI became king of both England and France; he was nine months old, and the only English king to have been officially named King of France. Skipping over decades of rocky reign, the English lost control of France decisively at the Battle of Castillon on 17 July 1453, which lost Gascony/Aquitaine, the English throne's major territory on the continent for the previous three centuries.

This has been (necessarily) a much-abbreviated look at the Hundred Years War, which ended in 1453. Next I want to explain why I think 1453 is a good year to say the Middle Ages were well and truly over.

Medieval Pirates

Piracy on the seven seas goes back a long way.

Think of fairly small ships roughing it on the open sea with little defense, not the rows of cannons you see in ships of later centuries. Even a "royal navy" would be small and not necessarily able to swiftly come to the aid of each other if a couple vessels of well-armed and determined sailors approached them. Also, maintaining a navy could be expensive. Even Henry VI in the early 15th century got rid of his standing navy, prepared to hire ships if ever he needed them.

Not that piracy wasn't a known peril; it just wasn't easy to control, although attempts were made. Of course it was outlawed, but catching and punishing a pirate was not the easiest of tasks.

The image here is a modern translation/copy of the earliest known record of punishment for a pirate prior to the 1700s. It reads:

An order was given to the Bailiffs of York as to the ship which they caused to be arrested because William de Briggeho, who was afterwards hanged for consorting with malefactors who robbed her off Sandwich, was found on board her.
The lord the King, has ascertained by inquisition that the ship, together with the chattels on board her, belonged to William Belemund, of Grimsby, and he commanded the bailiffs that they should cause her to be delivered to William Belemund without delay.
Witness, &c.

1228

September 19th is International Talk Like a Pirate Day.

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.