Mailing a Letter

Large empires such as the Roman Empire needed ways to communicate quickly and efficiently with their far-flung domains. For the Romans, it was the cursus publicus, a series of stations along the main Roman roads where messages were passed along to fresh couriers. After the decline of the empire, the value of the  cursus publicus caused it to be maintained. Theodoric maintained the Roman postal system in his own domain, as did the Carolingian Empire in theirs.

When the Carolingian Empire ended (888 CE), however, there was no longer any organized attempt for a postal system throughout any part of Europe. Kings and popes, of course, had the large staff available and could appoint someone to deliver a message, but outside of those official types of correspondence, what were the options?

One of the more efficient systems was created by Italian merchants centuries later. A lot of travel and trade used the Mediterranean, and the Mediterranean was dominated by Genoa, Florence, and Venice. Italian businesses became so large that branches were created, and the owners could not be everywhere that needed them. Orders and messages needed to be sent to subordinates, customers, deliverymen, etc.

The large businesses set up posting stations with fast horses and riders at several points along their trade routes, but eventually they realized they were duplicating each others' work. In 1357, seventeen companies in Florence collaborated on a single message delivery system. Florence to Paris was 700 miles, and ideally a message was delivered in three weeks. Weather could be a mitigating factor, but their system was the best option.

Couriers were not worthy of being named historically, but we do know one. Geoffrey Chaucer was paid nine shillings by his master, Lionel of Antwerp, to deliver letters from France to London while Lionel and his father (Edward III) took part in the Treaty of Brétigny. (Footnote: Chaucer was in London for two weeks before Lionel returned. What can an unattached page do in a fortnight? That is the frame for my mystery novel A Death in Catte Street, available via the links in the upper-right of this blog's main page.)

Lionel, a younger son of Edward III, does not get the attention given to Edward's other progeny like the Black Prince or John of Gaunt. He will get a little more of what is due him next time.

Cassiodorus and Colleges

Yesterday's post mentioned Cassiodorus (c.485-c.585), a contemporary of Boethius, and his description of the relationship between Arithmetic and Music. His full name was Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator. He was not a senator; that was part of his name, although he was a statesman under Theoderic the Great, king of the Ostrogoths.

He served in several different roles in government, and his literary skills were so well recognized that he was often asked to draft important documents while he was in Ravenna. (Why Ravenna and not Rome? That is for the next post.) Whether because he was a devoted statesman, or just because of personal inclinations, his writings try to unite the cultural differences between the Eastern and Western Roman empires, between Greek and Roman cultures, between the Roman culture and the invading Goths, and even between established Christian doctrine and heresies. After his retirement from public life, he founded a monastery and turned to writing about religion.

The immediate reason for bringing him up in a medieval blog, however, is his link to medieval universities, which didn't exist for several centuries after his death. We are familiar by now with the medieval curriculum of the trivium (Grammar, Rhetoric, Logic) and the Quadrivium (Arithmetic, Music, Geometry, Astronomy). You might be surprised to know that Cassiodorus not only listed these fields of study, in that order, but also that he derives them from the study of the Bible.

In his Expositio Psalmorum ["Explanation of the Psalms"], he interprets Psalm 18.5

"Their voice resounds through all the earth, and their words to the ends of the earth"

as the teachings of the Bible being spread throughout the world, and that these teachings are the origin of secular studies. Therefore, mastering the secular arts helps bring one back to better comprehension of the Bible. This was, in fact, considered the original purpose of medieval universities: to train better clerics.

Emperor Justinian

The results of Justinian's plan for re-unifying the Empire

The Byzantine Emperor Justinian was known for—among other things—establishing a code of justice. His reign, from 1 August 527 until 14 November 565, was sufficiently long that he managed to achieve many other things—enough that he earned the title Justinian the Great.

When I call him a Byzantine Emperor, I refer to a geographical designation; technically, he was emperor of the Roman Empire, albeit he ruled from the Eastern Empire. The division of the vast Roman Empire made it difficult to manage the entire territory; Justinian, however, decided during his reign that it was time to bring the empire back together.

Now, this might have been easy if the Western Empire were still under Roman rule. The Western Empire, however, had been overrun by Goths and Vandals. Justinian, who is sometimes referred to as the "Last Roman Emperor" because he was the last ruler who spoke Latin as his first language (as opposed to Greek), instituted a renovatio imperii ["restoration of the empire].

This restoration plan produced the Gothic Wars, lasting 20 years, Not only did he bring much of the old Roman territory around the Mediterranean back under one rule, but he also brought new territory to the Empire. The Tzani (now called the Zans, a subtonic group of the Georgians) on the east coast of the Black Sea had never known Roman rule, but were included in his military campaigns.

East & West

Pope Gregory at the Second Council of Lyons

The Second Council of Lyons, mentioned yesterday, accomplished many things. It was called by Pope Gregory X partially to attempt a reconciliation between the Eastern and Western Churches—Byzantine Emperor Michael VIII (1223-1282) had requested this.

One of the items on the agenda was getting the two churches to agree to the same theology. The Filioque ["and the Son"] controversy was still an issue. The Greek text of the Nicene Creed was that the Holy Spirit proceeds "from the Father." The Roman view was that the Holy Spirit proceeds "from the Father and the Son." This divergence was firmly established in 325 by the first Nicene Council. The Greek delegation conceded to add the words "and the Son" to their version of the Creed. Sadly, Michael VIII's successor, Emperor Andronicus II (1259-1332), rejected the change.

The other East/West connection established at the Council was relations between Europe and the Mongol Empire of Abaqa Khan. A Crusade was planned, and the representatives of the Khan (one of whom went through a public baptism at Lyons) agreed to not hassle Christians during the war with Islam. Abaqa's father had once agreed to exempt Christians from taxes. Unfortunately, the Crusade never happened, and the grand gesture of cooperation did not take place.

So...improvements in East/West relations were attempted, but ultimately failed. The Council also was marred by other events. Thomas Aquinas wanted to attend, but died on the way. St. Bonaventure did attend, but died during the sessions..

Novatianism: Harsh Christianity

Christian persecution under Emperor Decius

Novatianism was one of the philosophies mentioned by Socrates Scholasticus. It was a (literally) less-forgiving brand of Christianity, promoted by a man who deliberately set himself up as one of the first anti-popes.

Novation (also called Novatus) was a 3rd century scholar and theologian during a time when Christians were still being actively persecuted in the Roman Empire, especially during the reign of Emperor Decius (249-251). Decius assassinated Pope Fabian (c.200-250), and executed many Christians unless they chose to renounce their faith and worship the Roman pantheon. The position of pope remained vacant for a year. After the death of Decius in 251, a moderate Roman aristocrat named Cornelius was elected by a majority of local bishops.

Pope Cornelius was willing to forgive the Lapsi, the lapsed Christians who saved their lives by recanting or worshiping in the Roman style. This was unacceptable to Novatian. He got three bishops together in Rome who were willing to see things his way, and they elected him pope.

Both popes sent messengers from Rome to declare their election. Confusion reigned, then investigation. The Church in Africa supported Cornelius, as did (Saint) Dionysius of Alexandria and (Saint) Cyprian. Novatian tried to use his "authority" to create new bishops to replace those in the provinces. It quickly became clear that Corneliuus was favored over Novatian by the majority, making Novatian the second anti-pope.

The roots of his unwillingness to forgive such disloyalty to Christianity did not just come from a stern nature, however; he believed forgiveness by the Church was simply not possible. He held that only God had the power of forgiveness for sins, and that earthly prelates could not pardon the serious sin of idolatry. This was not unprecedented: Tertullian (c.160-225) had criticized pardons for adultery made by Pope Calixtus I (217-222). Ultimately, however, the church decided to allow itself to forgive sins. Novatianism survived a couple centuries after his death in 258, but as a heresy, eventually to be stamped out and replaced with a more forgiving Christianity.

Novatian may no longer have followers, but he has at least one fan, who offers a picture of Novatian's tomb.

Criminal Intent

When Henry I (1068-1135) was king of England, the rule of the law was simple: someone had to pay for a crime. The philosophy was "who sins unwittingly shall knowingly make amends." This was a few decades into Norman rule in England, but it mirrored the previous Anglo-Saxon law as well: someone had to be responsible if a wrong had been committed. In fact, the law under King Cnut (985-1035) demanded that even an infant who broke a cup was guilty as if he were an adult acting deliberately. (Remember the importance of the wergild to pre-Norman England.) At least Henry's law allowed the very young and the insane to be considered innocent, being not in their right minds. Accidental injury was still injury, however, until a legal expert came forward who tried to change that.

Henry Bracton (1210-1268) was a jurist who worked hard to codify and update English law, using the well-developed Roman legal system as his guide. His four-volume De Legibus et Consuetudinibus Angliæ (On the Laws and Customs of England) informed much of English law afterward, even though he didn't finish it (I'll explain why shortly). He had a lot to say about the practice of seeking Sanctuary in a church, about "writs of appeal," and murder fines and dying intestate. But what we are looking at today is the concept of mens rea.

Mens rea, Latin for "guilty mind," was considered by Bracton to be a necessary element of a crime, as opposed to just an actus reus (guilty act). Just as Bracton insisted that stealing required an intent to steal, so the attitude of the law to killing must reflect the agent's intent to kill:

the crime of homicide, be it either accidental or voluntary, does not permit of suffering the same penalty, because on one case the full penalty must be exacted and in the other there should have been mercy. [De Legibus]

This was a significant change, and made a harsh law more reasonable. The fact that a felony in modern jurisprudence requires intent starts with Bracton's move away from a strictly "mathematical," eye-for-an-eye approach to punishment.

A page from De Legibus

So why didn't he finish it? Bracton rose far in his career: from being a justice at the age of 35 to being a member of what became the King's Court. But by 1257, something prompted him to quit his position not long before the summoning of the Mad Parliament by Henry III and the unrest that led to the Provisions of Oxford. By quitting, he had to turn in all of his papers, court cases, notes and copies of the law that he had been drawing on to write De Legibus. The timing is suspicious, especially considering the personal cost to him and his life's work. One wonders if he wanted to avoid taking sides, or, if he already had taken a side, who he was afraid of angering most: the king or the Barons.

Whatever the case, he walked away from law and courts for years, becoming a rector in a couple places, then an archdeacon, and finally the chancellor of Exeter Cathedral, in the nave of which he is buried. But in the last year of his life he was drawn into one more court case which, depending upon his reasons for leaving the law just before the second great conflict between a king of England and the Barons, might have been awkward for him. At the end of yesterday's post, the Dictum of Kenilworth  was mentioned, allowing the rebels to make a case to reclaim their estates from their king. Henry Bracton was appointed to the committee that heard their cases and decided the outcome, giving him one last chance to practice law—on behalf of people who had been his colleagues on the King's Court.

Locks Through the Ages

Locks are mentioned as far back as the Old Testament. The book of Nehemiah, which describes events in the second half of the 5th century, makes mention in chapter 3 of repairing the gates of the City of Jerusalem, saying that they "set up the doors thereof, and the locks thereof, and the bars thereof." Whatever they meant by locks, they were clearly a part of the security different from bars and doors.

Late Medieval lock from Newcastle-upon-Tyne

We know that the Romans had barbed spring padlocks made of iron. A barbed hasp of metal under tension would catch on a hook inside the padlock, and a key would push in at the hook, releasing the barb so that the hasp would spring open.

A pin-tumbler lock—that uses internal pins (sometimes) of varying lengths that require a matching key pattern before they are in the proper alignment to allow the lock to open—was first patented in 1784 patent by Joseph Bramah. The modern version with which we are familiar today was patented in 1848 by Linus Yale Sr., and then modified by Linus Yale Jr. in 1861.

Mechanism of Egyptian pin-tumbler lock from Nineveh

Chances are that none of these gentlemen was aware that a 2700-year-old pin tumbler lock has been found in the Khorsabad palace in Nineveh.* It is made of wood. The key had four pins; it would be inserted into a channel in the bolt and lifted up to raise four tumblers up and out of the way so that the lock could be opened.

Between Khorsabad and Yale, the pin-tumbler lock was used all over Europe and Asia, changing very little in mechanics, but a lot in art design. As metal-smithing became more refined, the locks and keys became more complex. Locks and keys also became works of art, designed to fit visually with their intended purpose.

In medieval Europe, with men going off to war, important keys—to doors, chests that held valuables, coffers that held the lord's seal (needed for official documents) would be left with the trusted lady of the castle, the chatelaine (from Latin castellan, the "lady of the castle"). The symbol of the chatelaine became a cord or belt from which hung several keys. This led to the term "chatelaine" (still in use) to mean a chain or dangling clip used to organize items, such as a small pair of sewing scissors on a long chain.

*If you care to do your own searches on this topic, you'll frequently find the oldest lock is said to be 4000 years old or from 4000 BC. Since the references agree it was found in Khorsabad palace, which was built by Sargon II, who ruled 721-705 BCE, I have to assume online sources have been careless in their reporting of its age. Smith College is a little more careful with its description.

Hadrian's Wall

In 1796, Newcastle's town clerk bought a 17th century mansion called the Chesters Estate which included a part of Hadrian's Wall and a Roman fort. He leveled the fort to create a park-like setting for his home, showing no particular interest in preserving a piece of history. Fortunately, his young son felt differently. John Clayton (1792-1890) would follow in his father's footsteps as town clerk, but before that he would diverge from his father in showing a keen interest in preserving the past.

In the 1830s, John became concerned about Hadrian's Wall: parts were missing. Farmers and others had been dismantling sections of the 72-mile-long structure for their own building projects for centuries. Dismayed at the loss of a piece of history, he began to buy up the land on which it stood. He promoted tourism of the Wall, he conducted excavations and restoration work, and he published archaeological studies on it.

Foundation of a "milecastle"

Traditionally, the Wall was begun on this date in 122. There is evidence, however, that when Emperor Hadrian visited Britain in 122 to review the borders of the Roman Empire the wall was already in progress. The descriptions and remains are impressive: its dimensions varied from 10 feet wide by 16-20 feet high to 20 feet wide and 11 feet high. (The variety is because different legions worked on different sections and had different materials at hand.)

There were "milecastles" every 1620 yards (the Roman mile) capable of housing 50-60 men, with towers every 1600 feet. Well, that was the plan: the placement of the milecastles can vary by up to 200 yards depending on terrain. Later, 14-16 larger forts were built along the Wall that could each house over 500 men. Additionally, a road was constructed on the south side to allow swift travel along the perimeter, and a system of berms and ditches made approach from the north more difficult.

Every article on the Wall says it was built to keep the Picts out, but while that may have been the purpose of the Wall, its function was more complex than as just a defensive work. At every milecastle was a gate, and historians accept that commerce would have passed from north to south on a daily basis. The "threat" posed to Roman Britain by tribes north of the Wall may have been exaggerated.

Broken gateway at a milecastle

The collapse of the Roman Empire in 410 and the withdrawal of its legions from Britain might have meant the abandonment of the Wall, but there is evidence that it remained garrisoned, probably by local Britons, for another generation or two. Eventually, however, it was abandoned, and the materials started to be scavenged for other constructions.

In 1987 it was declared a World Heritage Site. A National Trail footpath follows the Wall for part of its length. Just last week, a project called "Connecting Light" illuminated the Wall with 500 balloons to create a 70-mile spectacle in honor of the London 2012 culture festival.

What Ales You

Beer/ale has been brewed since the days of the Roman Empire. I suppose we should say that ale has been brewed that long, and beer came later. Originally made with barley, and then later with different grains, it was only around 1500 that the practice of adding hops to the mixture became popular. Although the word beer is almost as old as ale, the Middle Ages used the different words to distinguish between the much more common ale without hops and beer, made with hops.*

Mashing up grain, letting it sit in water with yeast, then letting it ferment was easy to do and produced a drink that provided calories, hydration, and not a debilitating amount of alcohol. Spices were sometimes added for variety. At a time when water was not always potable or easy to come by, turning it into a tastier drink was a desirable goal, easily accomplished by many households. And brewing would have been an ongoing process: hops provide preservative qualities that ale would lack. Given, however, that ale was drunk on a daily basis by almost everyone, frequent brewing would have been planned, and the more the better, because selling excess was a great way to make some extra cash.

Because ale (and later beer) was such an essential commodity, regulations for controlling prices, amount, and quality abound. Records of fees levied reveal the large number of women involved in the process. In fact, it is fair to say that brewing was a woman-dominated career in the Middle Ages at least until the Black Death, and for most of the rest of that century. Every village and hamlet probably had women who provided most of the ale to those who did not brew their own.

The introduction of hops changed the industry as well as the drink. Hopped beer could last longer, and it was therefore efficient to brew it in mass quantities. The equipment needed for this required a larger outlay of capital, which the cottage-industry alewife could not afford. Also, brewing in large quantities was more labor intensive and could not easily be squeezed into the day by the woman who had other domestic chores to attend to. The brewing of hopped beer became a town-centered industry dominated by men; where women were involved in the new model, it was as distributors.

If this post has whetted your appetite for historical ale and beer knowledge, consider this or this.

*Search the Internet for when hops started being used and you will find a wide variety of answers. Trivia: The Middle Ages Brewing Company (in Syracuse, NY) website says "Come and see ... British style 'real ale' brewery." Do you suppose they really leave out the hops?