Poggio Bracciolini

The creator of the world's first joke book was connected to many serious books as well. Gian Francesco Poggio Bracciolini, later just Poggio Bracciolini (1380 - 1459), Italian scholar and humanist, fell into a career because of his excellent skill with Latin and good penmanship.

His title at the peak of his career was scriptor apostolicus, "apostolic writer," a top secretary of diplomatic documents for the pope. Over 50 years he served seven popes. Working for the pope was a career, not a calling, and he never took Holy Orders, remaining a layman all his life.

His position did not pay well, but he was a smart investor and had a keen eye for valuable books and manuscripts. The sale in 1434 of a manuscript of Livy that he owned allowed him to buy a villa, which he filled with sculptures of men of antiquity.

His position gave him leisure time, especially when the Council of Constance deposed Antipope John XXIII in 1415, after which the papal seat was empty for two years. This gave Poggio time for his hobby: finding interesting antique manuscripts. It was while at the Council of Constance that he was able to explore the libraries of Swiss and Swabian abbeys. At St. Gall he discovered Cicero's defense of his friend Roscio, some Quintilian, lost Latin poetry by Statius, an epic poem on the Punic War, a long Latin poem on celestial phenomena, and Vitruvius' De Architectura, the earliest known work on architecture. At Cluny Abbey he found a collection of Cicero's Orations, and at Langres (northeastern France) he found nine unknown orations of Cicero.

He discovered copies of works by Livy and Ammianus in Hersfeld Abbey in Hesse, Germany. The abbey would not give them up, but Poggio bribed a monk to procure the manuscripts.

This blog has mentioned Lucretius' De Rerum Natura ("On the Nature of Things") before, when Poggio found the only surviving manuscript. Poggio recognized the significance of the name because he had read of it in Cicero; otherwise, he might have passed over it as inconsequential. As it turns out, that original has disappeared, but Poggio sent it to a friend to get copied (and complained that the friend never returned the original to him).

The discovery of De Rerum Natura was the subject of a 2011 book that claims it was the start of the modern world. This was a time of transition, and Poggio was part of that transition, one example of which was his rivalry with a scholar and priest called Lorenzo Valla. One more post about Poggio and this rivalry, and then I'll move on. See you next time.

The Prolific Caesarius

A popular source of stories of miracles and of subjects for sermons was the body of work produced by Caesarius of Heisterbach (c.1180 - c.1240), commemorated here in a statue erected in 1897.

Caesarius was the prior (an administrator of an abbey, but not the abbot) of the Cistercian Heisterbach Abbey in western Germany. He wrote Dialogus miraculorum ("dialogue of miracles"), in which a monk tells tales of 746 miracles by saints to a young novice. About 60 versions still exist that were made by hand, suggesting that it was almost as popular as Jacobus de Voragine's Golden Legend.

He also produced sermons, which he claimed he had to make public because monks asked for more detail on his statements. One of his books deals specifically with his interpretation of the phrase Ave praeclara maris stella ("Hail bright star of the sea"), a nickname for the Virgin Mary and a 9th century hymn found in old manuscripts in the Abbey of St. Gall and elsewhere.

In one of his works he wrote about the fairly recent sack of the town of Béziers during the Albigensian Crusade led by fellow Cistercian Arnaud Amalric. Supposedly, when Arnaud was asked how to distinguish between Cathars and Catholics in the town, he said Caedite eos. Novit enim Dominus qui sunt eius ("Slay them all, the Lord will know his own"). This is apocryphal, but is considered the origin of the oft-used phrase "Kill them all and let God sort them out." He also is known for a paradoxical maxim about monasteries: that discipline causes prosperity and then prosperity undermines discipline.

Caesarius complained that his writings were taken and distributed before they were finished and proofread. Perhaps it was in this context that he blamed a demon for errors in his works. That demon was Titivillus, and he will be the subject of my next post.

The Life of Charlemagne

There are two "Lives" of Charlemagne, one by Einhard who was a member of the Carolingian court for decades, and one by a "Monk of St. Gall." The Monk writes that he was given the idea for the biography when Emperor Charles III visited St. Gall for three days; this can be dated to 883, meaning the Monk was writing 70 years after its subjects death, and 60 years after Einhard's eyewitness account.

Einhard's Vita Karoli Magni ("Life of Charles the Great") is not just a list of wars fought and won—and there were many—but offers insight to the habits and interests of its subject, and in so doing gives a glimpse of daily life in the Frankish court.

One thing we learn is of the close relationship Charlemagne had with the scholars with whom he surrounded himself: they had nicknames for each other. Charles himself was called (King) David, while Einhard's skill at managing building projects and his knowledge of Scripture saw him named Bezaleel, from a character in the Bible

...filled with the spirit of God, in wisdom, and in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship, to devise cunning works, to work in gold, and in silver, and in brass, and in cutting of stones, and in carving of timber. [Exodus, xxxi]

Einhard, writing after Charles' death, forsakes the idea of making up tales of his subject's youth, claiming that no one was currently alive who could tell him anything about the king's life before his time as king. As much as Einhard writes because of his admitted great admiration for Charles, he refuses to do what so many medieval biographers would do: embellish his subject's early life with tales of his prowess, etc.

Of the 47 years' worth of wars discussed, the penultimate with the Huns stands out because of the near-total victory by Charlemagne, after which the spoils of war changed the Franks from "a poor people" to a land with so many riches that their coinage was devalued and commodity prices rose.

Of Charlemagne's personal life, we learn of his wives and concubines and their respective children (Einhard even admits that one name escapes him; the honesty of his account in places is refreshing). We learn that he quarreled with his mother Bertrada only once (when he divorced his first wife whom he had married on Bertrada's advice), and that he treated his sister with the same reverence he treated his mother.

As soon as his sons were old enough, he had them taught to ride and hunt and use weapons. His daughters were taught the arts of the spindle and distaff and to avoid idleness; all his children were taught the liberal arts, and to adopt high principles. When he was at court, dinners were always with the family. His attachment to his children was strong, and he openly wept when two sons and a daughter pre-deceased him. He also wept for the death of Pope Adrian I, whom he considered a great friend.

His sons and daughters also traveled with him, the sons riding up front and the daughters in the rear, guarded. One failing in Charles as a king was the fact that his daughters would have made him some powerful alliances through carefully chosen marriages, yet he never allowed them to be married, keeping them always with him. He had betrothed his eldest, Hruotrud, to Emperor Constantine VI, but it was broken off, possibly because of religious differences, or the distance she would have been from her father?

Despite the affection he showed for his family, he was a king and emperor who had to be harsh at times. Some of those times will be explored tomorrow.

The Quest to Spread Christianity

Christianity came to Britain early. Tertullian and Origen, writing in the early 3rd century, mention Christian figures there. What is now Christian doctrine was not fully formed, however, and so some practices differed from what was happening around the Mediterranean. Pelagius, for example, was born there, whose heretical ideas prompted St. Jerome to call him "stuffed with Scottish porridge." The Synod of Whitby pitted the practices of Irish/Celtic/British Christianity against Roman Christianity.

The Christianity developing in the British Isles may have developed differently, but the fervor with which missionaries felt it should be spread was the equal of any 1st century apostle. Missionaries such as Patrick and Finnian of Clonard christianized Ireland, the Irish then christianized the Picts, then St. Columba focused on Scotland. (In all this, the Anglo-Saxons seem to have been left alone. The counties stories of the spread of Christianity in the first several centuries don't include anyone going on missions to southern England, until Pope Gregory I sends Augustine of Canterbury in 597 to preach to them.)

With all the islands converted, Irish missionaries looked for farther goals...and there was a whole continent waiting. One of the most successful Irish missionaries was Columbanus (543 - 615). He first went to Burgundy, establishing schools until he was exiled from there by Theuderic II. He went to Austria and established an abbey there. When Theuderic took over that part of the continent, Columbanus fled to Italy and established a scholar Bobbio.

His schools raised hundreds of Christians with the same philosophy of mission work, establishing monasteries in Belgium, France, Germany, and Switzerland. The legacies of St. Gall and the Scots Monastery can be traced back to Columbanus and his schools.

The Íslendingabók ("Book of the Icelanders") written between 1122 and 1133 mentions Irish priests already in Iceland when the Norse arrived.

The 14th and 15th centuries saw a decline in the number of Irish monks traveling to Europe and joining the monasteries. Monasteries in Nuremberg and Vienna were given over to German groups. The Scots Monastery was handed to a Scottish congregation in 1577 by papal decree.

Enough about missions from Great Britain. What happened when a mission came to Great Britain? Did Augustine have an easy time of it, with the Christians nearby? We'll find out tomorrow.

The Writing Room

An important function of medieval monasteries was the creation and copying of manuscripts. Copying religious and secular works for the edification of others was not only important to them, it has enriched immeasurable our understanding of their time and culture.

The scriptorium or "writing place" was a standard part of a monastery's architecture, and an early non-agricultural example of an "assembly line." Some monks had an excellent hand for lettering, some were good at illustration. Of course, even before anything could happen in the scriptorium, someone had to make parchment and ink (see the links).

Cassiodorus considered scriptorium work so vital that he established careful training for scribes, and exempted the top performers from daily prayers and allocated extra candles so they could spend more hours copying texts. A scribe therefore might work from six hours per day up to twice that or more for the best ones.

Even good scribes, however, were not always happy in their work. The scriptorium was placed in the complex to be distraction-free. Imagine working long hours in a silent room, bent over, eyes close to the page, no "coffee breaks" unless it were for prayers, the pressure to copy texts exactly. The need for decent lighting meant having windows that were open to the cold air all winter; gloves would have interfered with the fine penmanship needed. Monks were stressed, and often gave themselves breaks by inappropriate notes sketches in margins. One manuscript ends with the personal observation “Now I’ve written the whole thing. For Christ’s sake, give me a drink.” (You can read all about it in here, page 40.)

The illustration above is likely not a good depiction of the actual environment. The light from the windows needs to be on the page, not in the monks' eyes. A better layout is seen in the Plan of St. Gall, which I wrote about here. It is a manuscript that shows the layout of the Abbey of St. Gall, and the scriptorium is clearly a room with desks around the edges and a worktable in the center. You can see it on the left side of the illustration to the right of this paragraph.

If you like the term "Dark Ages" and think there was no education for centuries in Europe, we must agree to disagree, but I will say that monasteries helped preserve culture and learning. They were not just copying the Bible and works by Christian authors like Augustine: Aristotle and others from the Classical Era were being preserved and shared, and the act of copying also educated the monk who was doing the reading. Abbot Trithemius (1462 - 1516) wrote

As he is copying the approved texts he is gradually initiated into the divine mysteries and miraculously enlightened. Every word we write is imprinted more forcefully on our minds since we have to take our time while writing and reading. (In Praise of Scribes)

All seriousness aside, however, much can be made of the frivolous illustrations tucked into and around the lines of text. They are definitely worth looking at next time.

The Book of Life

In the previous post, I mentioned that a certain name showed up in the Liber Vitae, a title which literally means "Book of Life" but was actually a list of names associated with a monastery or convent. There are several of these, also known as confraternity books.

Confraternity books exist for the Abbey of St. Gall, for Reichenau Abbey, and for Durham Abbey, among others. The Durham book was recorded as early as 840, and continued into the later 11th century. A reorganization in the 12th century seems to have resulted in the loss of some pages. Recovered from the Cotton Library, it now resides in the British Library. Despite the incomplete nature of what we have, confraternity books still have value in helping us understand more about the past.

One of the values of the confraternity books is to linguists and historians, who can make surmises about culture and language from the names. The New Minster Liber Vitae is arranged in columns, with typical Anglo-Saxon names—Dunstan, Leofric, Ethelred, Wulfgar—in the center. To the left, however, are added names that were common after the Conquest in 1066: Baldwin, Simon, Richard, William. In it we see the cultural shift from the Germanic roots of the Anglo-Saxons to the new Norman French/Latin language shifts.

The picture here is from the New Minster Liber Vitae, produced in Winchester in 1031. It portrays King Cnut and Queen Emma, here called Ælfgifu. I'll tell you about her tomorrow.

Saints, Obscure and Otherwise

One purpose of the Daily Medieval blog is to bring to light knowledge of characters and events that do not reach the mainstream culture. Everyone has heard of King Arthur, Merlin, jousts, etc. There was so much more, so many more lives and events and customs, that made up that time we romanticize as the Middle Ages.

Columbanus, discussed in the previous post, set sail with 12 companions to preach to the world. Their names are known, and some of their stories.

Saint Attala was one. He was dissatisfied with the less-than-strict discipline at the abbey at Lérins, and joined the monastery of Luxeuil, which had just been founded by Columbanus and had a much more rigid discipline. He succeeded Columbanus as abbot of Bobbio in Italy and maintained a strict rule. Several monks rebelled against his rules and left. After some died in the outside world, the rest thought it a punishment from God and returned to his monastery. He died in either 622 or 627, depending on your source; his feast day is 10 March.

Saint Deicolus (born c.530) followed Columbanus all over western Europe. Even at 80 years old, he was determined to follow Columbanus on further travels, but age and infirmity forced him to give up the wandering life and settle in Lutre in Besançon, where he was the apostle of his district until his death in 625 at the age of 95.

Deicolus' younger brother was not quite so obscure, having appeared in this blog many times already. He is known as St. Gall, or Gallus. You can search this blog for him, but my personal favorite historical link to him is here, with the only known architectural plan (such as it is) extant from centuries of medieval buildings.

I think we will have a few things to say about medieval architecture in general in the next post.

A Papal Secretary Makes His Mark

Poggio's notes on monument [link]

Many months ago this post mentioned a time when there were three popes at once, who were finally removed and replaced with a fourth. The truth is that there was a two-year gap before the Cardinals settled on a single pope. During this time, what did all the servants and staff of the Vatican do with themselves? One of them went searching for manuscripts from the past and made of them a gift to the future.

His name was Gian Francesco Poggio (later called "Bracciolini," and he was born in Tuscany on 11 February, 1380, but grew up in Florence where his father took him to be educated. It was soon clear that he had a great talent: his penmanship. In an age when all documents were created by hand, penmanship was prized. He was put in school to become a notary.

Notaries were authorized to oversee certain legal documents and transactions. At 21 he was a member of the Notaries Guild in Florence. Two years later, he was working for a cardinal, and a few months after that, for the Vatican itself. With his penmanship skills and knowledge of proper document organization and preparation, he quickly moved up through all the ranks of official Vatican scriptors, working under four popes.

Then came 1414 and the Council of Constance that got rid of all three warring popes, beginning a two-year gap in the need for secretaries who produced official documents. Poggio decided to travel. He visited the German spa at Baden, abbeys in Switzerland and Swabia, St. Gall and many others. He brought to light sole copies of important works by classical authors that might have otherwise disintegrated without being copied.

At Gall he found unique documents by Cicero, Quintilian, Statius, Gaius Valerius Flaccus, and more. Cicero's complete Orations were recovered at Cluny. The only known copy of the encyclopedic De Rerum Natura ["On the Nature of Things"] by Lucretius was recovered from a German monastery (probably Fulda). One Harvard scholar credits Lucretius' 7400-line poem on the world with kickstarting the Renaissance.

He returned to his Vatican duties, being named Apostolicus Secretarius, the papal secretary, under the newly elected Pope Martin V. He traveled a great deal still, moving around when the pope did and on re-assignments (he spent five years in England, which he hated), looking for manuscripts that needed bringing into the light. He worked under several more popes until he finally retired to a villa that he had built with the money from the sale of a manuscript by Livy. In 1453,* he was offered the position of Chancellor of the Florentine Republic by Cosimo de Medici. He fulfilled his duties there until his death in 1459.

*Coincidentally, he retired from a career created by his excellent hand-writing of documents at the same time Gutenberg was perfecting movable type and ushering in an era of mass-produced books.

Traveling to Canterbury

St. Adrian of Canterbury

Yesterday's post on the Leiden Glossary mentioned its two chief contributors, Adrian of Canterbury and Theodore of Tarsus. Also interesting is their journey to Canterbury—not just their appointment to their positions, but what it took to get to their new jobs—and what it tells us about the Middle Ages.

Bede tells the story of Adrian of Canterbury in his Historia ecclesiastic gentis Anglorum ["Ecclesiastical history of the English people"]. Adrian was born in North Africa—we don't know when, but he died about 710—and was abbot of a monastery when Pope Vitalian (who would send Benedict Biscop to England as well) offered him the position of Archbishop of Canterbury on the death of Archbishop Deusdedit in 664. Adrian turned down the offer, and suggested a nearby monk, who also declined. When the pope asked Adrian a second time, Adrian introduced to the pope another friend who happened to be in Rome, Theodore of Tarsus.

The pope accepted Theodore as the new Archbishop of Canterbury, but asked that Adrian accompany him to England; according to Bede, Adrian had traveled to England twice before, and knew the way. Keep in mind that this is a world without roadmaps, without highways, without public transportation or any regularly scheduled wagons or boats or anything of the kind.

On 27 May 668 (note: 4 years after the death of Deusdedit), Adrian and Theodore left Rome. They traveled by sea to Marseille on the southern coast of France (far preferable to crossing the Alps). In nearby Arles they stayed for a time with its archbishop, John, until they managed to get passports from King Clotaire III's Mayor of the Palace, Ebroin. These passports could be shown to any civil servants along the way to grant them safe passage through Clotaire's domain.

By the time they made their way to the north of France, winter had come, so they needed to stay somewhere. Theodore went to stay with the Bishop of Paris. Adrian stayed first with the Bishop of Sens, then the Bishop of Meaux.

In the spring of 669, King Ecgberht of Kent sent for Theodore, who reached England a whole year after he first set out. Adrian, however, was not so lucky. For some reason, Ebroin decided that Adrian might have been an agent of the Greek emperor.* The Greek emperor that he feared had died in September of 668, but news could travel as slowly as bishops crossing France, so Ebroin (and Clotaire) were probably fearing someone that had been dead for months. They finally allowed Adrian to leave France.

Arriving in England, Adrian was made abbot of the monastery of St. Peter, which was re-named St. Augustine's Abbey. He and Theodore taught and wrote commentaries that, along with the writing of others, were compiled into a collection of glosses in Latin and Anglo-Saxon. At least one copy made its way to the continent and the Abbey of St. Gall, where it was copied in 800. That copy eventually wound up in the Netherlands, where it became known as the Leiden Glossary.

*In 669 the emperor would have been Constantine IV, "The Bearded"; Ebroin probably feared the emperor's predecessor, his father Constans II.

The Leiden Glossary

You can get your own copy here

The Leiden University Library in the Netherlands, founded in 1575, was an important part of the Enlightenment (late 17th to early 18th century), due to its enormous collection of texts that include 2500 medieval manuscripts. One of their medieval manuscripts, the Leiden Glossary, preserves a document from 9th century England that might otherwise be lost to us.

A "glossary" is a collection of "glosses," or explanations of a word or term. The Leiden Glossary contains glosses and commentaries by two priests and scholars, Adrian of Canterbury and Theodore of Tarsus (mentioned here), who were both at St. Augustine's Abbey in Canterbury.

The 48 chapters are lists of sayings and phrases used by Adrian and Theodore in their teaching, as well as commentaries they made on other works: think of it as a teacher's handout to his students so they don't have to take notes. There are, for instance, 8 chapters by Theodore with glosses on the "Pastoral Care" of Pope Gregory I (Gregory has been mentioned here).

There are also glosses from different people. For instance, there are three glosses on the same subject of the Historia Ecclesiastica ["History of the Church"] of Eusebius. The three are of differing quality, as if the book records the attempts by three different scholars—maybe students— to explain the passages in Eusebius. One of them echoes a different commentary found elsewhere that is known to be by Aldhelm, so it may have been Aldhelm himself who contributed it to the Leiden.

The Leiden is a mixture of glosses in Latin and Anglo-Saxon, another indication that the original glossary must have come from England. The Leiden Glossary was made in the library at the Abbey of St. Gall, presumably from that original. One of the things that we learn collaterally from the Leiden Glossary—because of the manuscripts about which the glosses have been written—is that the library at St. Augustine's Abbey must have been extensive. Alas, it did not survive the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII.

A Collection of Notkers

Notker Balbulus (the Stammerer)

Yesterday's post on cheese included an anecdote about Charlemagne, attributed to Notker the Stammerer. One would think that "Notker" was an unusual name in any day and age, but it turns out to have been very popular—especially at the Abbey of St. Gall. Ekkehard IV (c.980-1056), a monk of St. Gall, continued a chronicle that had been begun by others. Through the Casus sancti Galli (Doings of Saint Gall), we learn about the history of its inhabitants.

Notker the Stammerer (c.840-912) was called "delicate of body but not of mind, stuttering of tongue but not of intellect, pushing boldly forward in things Divine, a vessel of the Holy Spirit without equal in his time" by Ekkehard. He was a prolific writer, but the work he is most known for is a collection of anecdotes about Charlemagne that has been called a "mass of legend, saga, invention and reckless blundering." Supposedly, Notker wrote De Carolo Magno (Concerning Charles the Great) in honor of a visit to St. Gall by Charlemagne's great-grandson, Charles the Fat.* It is riddled with errors, such as when it claims that the Venerable Bede (672-735) devoted a book of his Ecclesiastical History to King Pepin the Short (714-768), who did not become a king until 752; when Bede died, Pepin's grandfather, Charles Martel, was king.

Notker Labeo ("the Thick-Lipped") was a nephew of the Ekkehard clan. He lived from c.950-1022 and had a reputation in the monastery as a voracious reader. He took up translating various philosophical texts into German, for which he was later called Notker Teutonicus ("the German"). When he died, he asked that he be buried in the same clothing he had always worn, to hide the fact that he wore a heavy chain around himself to mortify the flesh.

Notker Physicus, who died in 975, was called thus (according to the Catholic Encyclopedia) because of his very strict discipline. His knowledge of medicine is praised by Ekkehard, and he is probably the same Notker who was called Notarius (notable) who was known at the court of Emperor Otto I for his skill in medicine.

There was a Notker who was a nephew of Notker Physicus, of whom we know little except that he became Abbot of St. Gall in 971 and died 15 December 975. He was considered exceptionally pious.

Yet another Notker (c.940-1008) was the provost of St. Gall and became the Bishop of Liège. He established schools that became famous and drew numerous students. He is responsible for architectural projects, such as St. John's in Liège, designed after the Aachen Cathedral.


*Charles was the son of Louis the German, the son of Louis the Pious.

Arverni

The announcement for the First Crusade was made from Clermont in France. The name "Clermont" came from the Latin clarus mons (clear/plain + mountain), originally the name of a castle because of the dormant volcano next door, and later the name of the city it overlooked. But that wasn't until the 9th century. It had a much earlier name in the 2nd century, Arvernis, because it was the capital of the Gallic tribe the Arverni, whose leader Vercingetorix united several Gallic tribes under one banner to fight Julius Caesar. The name "Arverni" lives on in the modern French name of the region, the Auvergne.

Vercingetorix, honored by France in 1966

As one of the oldest established cities in France, it has a long and noble history. In the 5th century it had a large enough Christian population that it earned its own cathedral and bishop. It fought against Visigothic expansion numerous times, until in the late 5th century the Roman emperor gave up on it and let the Visigoths have it. Eventually it fell under Frankish rule.

It also became notable as a location for religious reform and advancement. The announcement of the First Crusade took place at the Second Council of Clermont. The First Council of Clermont took place in 535 and established several points, such as:

• Marriages between Christians and Jews were forbidden
• Marriages between relatives were discouraged
• Priests may not appeal to secular lords for help against their bishop
• Clerics who attempt to cheat their way to a bishopric will be excommunicated

(The medieval attitude toward Jews was further acted upon in 570, when then-Bishop Avitus offered Jew in Arverni the same deal offered by Edward I in England in 1290: baptism or expulsion.)

The First Council was hosted by the bishop of Arverni, Bishop Gal I. Later, he would be canonized as St. Gal, not to be confused with St. Gall of monastic architecture fame. Although Gal I defended the church steadfastly, and was known at the time for his amazingly even-tempered approach to conflict and personal injury (when struck on the head, his calm response completely disarmed the attacker and defused the situation), he is not well known these days. Connected with him, however, is a true "local boy makes good" story. I am referring to Gal's nephew and pupil, Gregory of Tours, who was not named Gregory and did not come from Tours. But that's a story for tomorrow.

The Plan of St. Gall

In April 2013, near Meßkirch in southern Germany, construction will start on a monastery. It is expected to take 40 years to complete, because the builders will use 9th century tools to build it. This alone should be sufficient to ensure its celebrity on the Internet and in the hearts of medievalists.

But wait ... there's more. The design of the monastery complex is from a document that is 1200 years old. The Plan of St. Gall is a 122cm x 77.5cm manuscript that was discovered in 1844 when a pamphlet containing a 12th century life of St. Martin was unfolded. It shows the layout of 40 structures and spaces for gardens and orchards and a road. It includes 333 labels that identify the buildings and their purpose.

To be clear: the Plan of St. Gall isn't the actual layout of the monastery at St. Gall; the terrain wouldn't allow it. An inscription on the Plan tells us that it was a gift to the Abbot of St. Gall, Gozbertus (fl.816-837), who was responsible for having the monastery's church built in the 830s. According to the men* who brought the Plan to modern attention, it was based on a design made at two Carolingian reform synods held in 816 and 817 in Aachen intended to formalize Benedictine culture.

For modern scholars, its value is as a focal point for study about Carolingian monastic life and 9th century architecture. The ongoing "St. Gall Project," administered by the Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies at UCLA, is not only creating the to-scale dimensions and models of the structures, it is also re-creating digitally the libraries of the monasteries at St. Gall and Reichenau (mentioned here). Despite the idealized nature of the design, it does have a carefully laid out scale based on multiples (and halves) of the number 40. Clearly there was careful thought put into the design. By constructing the "ideal" Benedictine monastery based on the St. Gall manuscript, and re-creating the monastic complex including the written works that would have informed its inhabitants, the project hopes to gain grater insight to the culture and mindset of the early 9th century.

*Medievalist Walter Horn and architect Ernest Born produced a three-volume analysis of the document in 1979, The Plan of St. Gall (Berkeley, Calif., University of California Press).