Books: Mediaeval Lore from Bartholomew Anglicus
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Robert Steele >> Mediaeval Lore from Bartholomew Anglicus
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A man loveth his child and feedeth and nourisheth it, and setteth it
at his own board when it is weaned. And teacheth him in his youth with
speech and words, and chasteneth him with beating, and setteth him and
putteth him to learn under ward and keeping of wardens and tutors. And
the father sheweth him no glad cheer, lest he wax proud, and he loveth
most the son that is like to him, and looketh oft on him. And giveth
to his children clothing, meat and drink as their age requireth, and
purchaseth lands and heritage for his children, and ceaseth not to
make it more and more. And entaileth his purchase, and leaveth it to
his heirs.... The child cometh of the substance of father and mother,
and taketh of them feeding and nourishing, and profiteth not, neither
liveth, without help of them. The more the father loveth his child,
the more busily he teacheth and chastiseth him and holdeth him the
more strait under chastising and lore; and when the child is most
loved of the father it seemeth that he loveth him not; for he beateth
and grieveth him oft lest he draw to evil manners and tatches, and the
more the child is like to the father, the better the father loveth
him. The father is ashamed if he hear any foul thing told by his
children. The father's heart is sore grieved, if his children rebel
against him. In feeding and nourishing of their children stands the
most business and charge of the parents.
Some servants be bond and born in bondage, and such have many pains by
law. For they may not sell nor give away their own good and cattle,
nother make contracts, nother take office of dignity, nother bear
witness without leave of their lords. Wherefore though they be not in
childhood, they be oft punished with pains of childhood. Other
servants there be, the which being taken with strangers and aliens and
with enemies be bought and sold, and held low under the yoke of
thraldom. The third manner of servants be bound freely by their own
good will, and serve for reward and for hire. And these commonly be
called Famuli.
The name lord is a name of sovereignty, of power, and of might. For
without a lord might not the common profit stand secure, neither the
company of men might be peaceable and quiet. For if power and might of
rightful lords were withholden and taken away, then were malice free,
and goodness and innocence never secure, as saith Isidore. A rightful
lord, by way of rightful law, heareth and determineth causes, pleas,
and strifes, that be between his subjects, and ordaineth that every
man have his own, and draweth his sword against malice, and putteth
forth his shield of righteousness, to defend innocents against evil
doers, and delivereth small children and such as be fatherless, and
motherless, and widows, of them that overset them. And he pursueth
robbers and rievers, thieves, and other evil doers. And useth his
power not after his own will, but he ordaineth and disposeth it as the
law asketh.... By reason of one good king and one good lord, all a
country is worshipped, and dreaded, and enhanced also. Also this name
lord is a name of peace and surety. For a good lord ceaseth war,
battle, and fighting; and accordeth them that be in strife. And so
under a good, a strong, and a peaceable lord, men of the country be
secure and safe. For there dare no man assail his lordship, ne in no
manner break his peace.
Meat and drink be ordained and convenient to dinners and to feasts,
for at feasts first meat is prepared and arrayed, guests be called
together, forms and stools be set in the hall, and tables, cloths, and
towels be ordained, disposed, and made ready. Guests be set with the
lord in the chief place of the board, and they sit not down at the
board before the guests wash their hands. Children be set in their
place, and servants at a table by themselves. First knives, spoons,
and salts be set on the board, and then bread and drink, and many
divers messes; household servants busily help each other to do
everything diligently, and talk merrily together. The guests be
gladded with lutes and harps. Now wine and now messes of meat be
brought forth and departed. At the last cometh fruit and spices, and
when they have eaten, board, cloths, and relief are borne away, and
guests wash and wipe their hands again. Then grace is said, and guests
thank the lord. Then for gladness and comfort drink is brought yet
again. When all this is done at meat, men take their leave, and some
go to bed and sleep, and some go home to their own lodgings.
III
MEDIAEVAL MEDICINE
The seventh book of the "De Proprietatibus" treats of the human body
and its ailments. At first glance it might seem that such a subject
would be repulsive, either in matter or handling, to the general
reader of today, but it will, we think, be found that there are many
points of interest in it for us, some of which we proceed to indicate.
Mankind has always felt a deep interest in certain diseases, to which
we are even now subject, and so parts of the chapters on leprosy and
hydrophobia have been reproduced. The accounts given of frenzy and
madness interest us both as a picture of the change in manners, as an
example of the methods of cure proposed, and as throwing light on many
passages. Thus Chaucer, speaking of Arcite, describes his passion as
compounded of melancholy which deprives him of reason, overflowing
into the foremost cell of his brain, the cell fantastic, and causing
him to act as if mad.
"Nought oonly lyke the loveres maladye
Of Hereos, but rather lyk manye,
Engendered of humour malencolyk
Byforen in his selle fantastyk."
K. T., 515, etc.
Physicians recommend music as a cure in mental troubles, but that it
is no new discovery is attested by Shakespeare and our author. Compare
what Bartholomew says of the voice, with Richard's speech:
"This music mads me, let it sound no more,
For though it have holp madmen to their wits,
In me it seems it will make wise men mad."
The origin of the brutality towards madmen warred against by Charles
Reade, and described in "Romeo and Juliet"--
"Not mad, but bound more than a madman is,
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,
Whipp'd and tormented"--
is seen in our extracts, which recall, too, in their insistence on
bleeding the "head vein," Juvenal's remark on his friend about to
marry: "O medici, mediam pertundite venam."
Some space has already been devoted (p. 28) to the physiology of the
human body, but this chapter would not be complete if we did not
devote some space to the explanations given of the working of the
heart, veins, and arteries, at a time when the circulation of the
blood was unknown. It may not be amiss to remind the reader that
arteries carry blood from the heart, to which it is returned by the
veins, after passing through a fine network of tubes called the
capillaries.
Turning to what may be called the popular physiology of the time, we
may note the change, since mediaeval times, in the allocation of
properties to the organs of the body. In our days, the heart and brain
set aside, we find no organ mentioned in connection with the various
faculties of the body, while up to Shakespeare's time each organ had
its passion. Some of these emotions have much changed their seats.
True love, which now reigns over the heart, then took its rise in the
liver. The friar in "Much Ado about Nothing" says of Claudio, "If ever
love had interest in his liver"; and the Duke in "Twelfth Night,"
speaking of women's love, says:
"Alas, their love may be call'd appetite,
No motion of the liver, but the palate."
The heart, on the other hand, was considered as the seat of wisdom.
The spleen is now almost a synonym for bitterness of spirit, but it
used to be regarded as the source of laughter. Isabella in "Measure
for Measure," after the well-known quotation about man dressed in a
little brief authority who plays such apish tricks as make the angels
weep, says they would laugh instead if they had spleens:
"Who, with our spleens,
Would all themselves laugh mortal."
The brain in mediaeval times was regarded only as the home of the
"wits of feeling"--the senses.
Some other points of interest in mediaeval medicine are the strange
remedies prescribed, and the way in which they were hit upon. The
Editor has not made many selections to illustrate this, nor has he
sought out the most strange. And lastly, in this, as in most of the
other chapters, much may be learnt of the customs of the time from the
indications of the text.
These be the signs of frenzy, woodness and continual waking, moving
and casting about the eyes, raging, stretching, and casting out of
hands, moving and wagging of the head, grinding and gnashing together
of the teeth; always they will arise out of their bed, now they sing,
now they weep, and they bite gladly and rend their keeper and their
leech: seldom be they still, but cry much. And these be most
perilously sick, and yet they wot not then that they be sick. Then
they must be soon holpen lest they perish, and that both in diet and
in medicine. The diet shall be full scarce, as crumbs of bread, which
must many times be wet in water. The medicine is, that in the
beginning the patient's head be shaven, and washed in lukewarm
vinegar, and that he be well kept or bound in a dark place. Diverse
shapes of faces and semblance of painting shall not be shewed tofore
him, lest he be tarred with woodness. All that be about him shall be
commanded to be still and in silence; men shall not answer to his nice
words. In the beginning of medicine he shall be let blood in a vein of
the forehead, and bled as much as will fill an egg-shell. Afore all
things (if virtue and age suffereth) he shall bleed in the head vein.
Over all things, with ointments and balming men shall labour to bring
him asleep. The head that is shaven shall be plastered with lungs of a
swine, or of a wether, or of a sheep; the temples and forehead shall
be anointed with the juice of lettuce, or of poppy. If after these
medicines are laid thus to, the woodness dureth three days without
sleep, there is no hope of recovery.
Madness is infection of the foremost cell of the head, with privation
of imagination, like as melancholy is the infection of the middle cell
of the head, with privation of reason.
Madness cometh sometime of passions of the soul, as of business and of
great thoughts, of sorrow and of too great study, and of dread:
sometime of the biting of a wood hound, or some other venomous beast:
sometime of melancholy meats, and sometime of drink of strong wine.
And as the causes be diverse, the tokens and signs be diverse. For
some cry and leap and hurt and wound themselves and other men, and
darken and hide themselves in privy and secret places. The medicine of
them is, that they be bound, that they hurt not themselves and other
men. And namely, such shall be refreshed, and comforted, and withdrawn
from cause and matter of dread and busy thoughts. And they must be
gladded with instruments of music, and somedeal be occupied.
Our Lord set a token in Cain, that was quaking of head, as Strabus
saith in the gloss: "Every man (saith Strabus) that findeth me, by
quaking of head and moving of wood heart, shall know that I am guilty
to die."
Among all the passions and evils of the wits of feeling, blindness is
most wretched. For without any bond, blindness is a prison to the
blind. And blindness beguileth the virtue imaginative in knowing; for
in deeming of white the blind deem it is black, and ayenward. It
letteth the virtue of avisement in deeming. For he deemeth and
aviseth, and casteth to go eastward, and is beguiled in his doom, and
goeth westward. And blindness over-turneth the virtue of affection and
desire. For if men proffer the blind a silver penny and a copper to
choose the better, he desireth to choose the silver penny, but he
chooseth the copper.
The blind man's wretchedness is so much, that it maketh him not only
subject to a child, or to a servant, for ruling and leading, but also
to an hound. And the blind is oft brought to so great need, that to
pass and scape the peril of a bridge or of a ford, he is compelled to
trust in a hound more than to himself. Also oft in perils where all
men doubt and dread, the blind man, for he seeth no peril, is secure.
And in like wise there as is no peril, the blind dreadeth most. He
spurneth oft in plain way, and stumbleth oft; there he should heave up
his foot, he boweth it downward. And in like wise there as he should
set his foot to the ground, he heaveth it upward. He putteth forth the
hand all about groping and grasping, he seeketh all about his way with
his hand and with his staff. Seldom he doth aught securely, well nigh
always he doubteth and dreadeth. Also the blind man when he lieth or
sitteth thereout, he weeneth that he is under covert; and ofttimes he
thinketh himself hid when everybody seeth him.
Also sometimes the blind beateth and smiteth and grieveth the child
that leadeth him, and shall soon repent the beating by doing of the
child. For the child hath mind of the beating, and forsaketh him, and
leaveth him alone in the middle of a bridge, or in some other peril,
and teacheth him not the way to void the peril. Therefore the blind is
wretched, for in house he dare nothing trustly do, and in the way he
dreadeth lest his fellow will forsake him.
Universally this evil [leprosy] hath much tokens and signs. In them
the flesh is notably corrupt, the shape is changed, the eyen become
round, the eyelids are revelled, the sight sparkleth, the nostrils are
straited and revelled and shrunk. The voice is hoarse, swelling
groweth in the body, and many small botches and whelks hard and round,
in the legs and in the utter parts; feeling is somedeal taken away.
The nails are boystous and bunchy, the fingers shrink and crook, the
breath is corrupt, and oft whole men are infected with the stench
thereof. The flesh and skin is fatty, insomuch that they may throw
water thereon, and it is not the more wet, but the water slides off,
as it were off a wet hide. Also in the body be diverse specks, now
red, now black, now wan, now pale. The tokens of leprosy be most seen
in the utter parts, as in the feet, legs, and face; and namely in
wasting and minishing of the brawns of the body.
To heal or to hide leprosy, best is a red adder with a white womb, if
the venom be away, and the tail and the head smitten off, and the body
sod with leeks, if it be oft taken and eaten. And this medicine
helpeth in many evils; as appeareth by the blind man, to whom his wife
gave an adder with garlick instead of an eel, that it might slay him,
and he ate it, and after that by much sweat, he recovered his sight
again.
The biting of a wood hound is deadly and venomous. And such venom is
perilous. For it is long hidden and unknown, and increaseth and
multiplieth itself, and is sometimes unknown to the year's end, and
then the same day and hour of the biting, it cometh to the head, and
breedeth frenzy. They that are bitten of a wood hound have in their
sleep dreadful sights, and are fearful, astonied, and wroth without
cause. And they dread to be seen of other men, and bark as hounds, and
they dread water most of all things, and are afeared thereof full
sore, and squeamous also. Against the biting of a wood hound wise men
and ready used to make the wounds bleed with fire or with iron, that
the venom may come out with blood, that cometh out of the wound.
Then consider thou shortly hereof, that a physician visiteth oft the
houses and countries of sick men. And seeketh and searcheth the causes
and circumstances of the sicknesses, and arrayeth and bringeth with
him divers and contrary medicines. And he refuseth not to grope and
handle, and to wipe and cleanse wounds of sick men. And he behooteth
to all men hope and trust of recovering of health; and saith that he
will softly burn that which shall be burnt, and cut that which shall
be cut. And lest the whole part should corrupt, he spareth not to burn
and to cut off the part that is rotted, and if a part in the right
side acheth, he spareth not to smite in the left side. A good leech
leaveth not cutting or burning for weeping of the patient. And he
hideth and covereth the bitterness of the medicine with some manner of
sweetness. He drinketh and tasteth of the medicine, though it be
bitter: that it be not against the sick man's heart, and refraineth
the sick man of meat and drink; and letteth him have his own will, of
the whose health is neither hope nor trust of recovering.
The veins have that name for that they be the ways, conduits, and
streams of the fleeting of the blood, and sheddeth it into all the
body. And Constantine saith, that the veins spring out of the liver,
as the arteries and wosen do out of the heart, and the sinews out of
the brain. And veins are needful as vessels of the blood to bear and
to bring blood from the liver, to feed and nourish the members of the
body. Also needly, the veins are more tender and nesh in kind than
sinews. Therefore that they be nigh to the liver may somewhat change
the blood that cometh to them. And all the veins are made of one
curtel, and not of two, as the arteries and wosen. For the arteries
receive spirits, and they keep and save them. And the veins coming out
of the liver, suck thereof, as it were of their own mother, feeding of
blood, and dealeth and departeth that feeding to every member as it
needeth. And so the veins spread into all the parts of the body, and
by a wonder wit of kind, they do service each to other.
Also among other veins open and privy, there is a vein, and it is
called Artery, which is needful in kind to bear and bring kindly heat
from the heart to all the other members. And these arteries are made
and composed of two small clothings or skins, called curtels, and they
be like in shape, and divers in substance. The inner have wrinkles and
folding overthwart, and their substance is hard, and more boystous
than the utter be. And without they have wrinkles and folding in
length: of whom the substance is hard for needfulness of moving,
opening, and closing. For by opening, itself doth receive from the
heart and that by the wrinklings and folding in length; by closing,
itself doth put out superfluous fumosity, which is done by wrinkling
and folding the curtels overthwart and in breadth, in the which the
spirit is drawn from the heart. Wherefore they be harder without than
all the other veins, and that is needful lest they break lightly and
soon. Also these veins spring out of the left hollowness of the heart.
And twain of that side are called Pulsative, of which one that is the
innermost hath a nesh skin, and this vein is needful to bring great
quantity of blood and spirits to the lungs, and to receive in air, and
to medley it with blood, to temper the ferventness of the blood. This
vein entereth into the lungs and is departed there in many manner
wises.
The other artery is more than the first, and Aristotle calleth it
Horren; this artery cometh up from the heart, and is departed in
twain, and the one part cometh upward, and carrieth blood, that is
purified and spirit of life to the brain; that so the spirit of
feeling may be bred, nourished, kept, and saved. The other part goeth
downward, and is departed in many manner wise toward the right side
and toward the left.
Then mark well, that a vein is the bearer and carrier of blood, keeper
and warden of the life of beasts. And containeth in itself the four
bloody humours clean and pure, which are ordained for feeding of all
the parts of the body. Moreover, a vein is hollow to receive blood the
more easily, and as it needeth in kind, that one vein bring and give
blood to another vein. Also a vein is messager of health and of
sickness. For by the pulse of the arteries and disposition of the
veins, physicians deem of the feebleness and strength of the heart.
Also if a vein be corrupt, and containeth corrupt blood, it corrupteth
and infecteth all the body, as it fareth in lepers, whose blood is
most corrupt in the veins, of the which the members are fed by sucking
of blood, and seeketh thereby corruption and sickness incurable. Also
the vein of the arm is oft grieved, constrained and wranged, opened
and slit, and wounded, to relieve the sickness of all the body by
hurting of that vein.
The spittle of a man fasting hath a manner strength of privy
infection. For it grieveth and hurteth the blood of a beast, if it
come into a bleeding wound, and is medlied with the blood. And that,
peradventure, is, as saith Avicenna, by reason of rawness. For raw
humour medlied with blood that hath perfect digestion, is contrary
thereto in its quality, and disturbeth the temperance thereof, as
authors say. And therefore it is that holy men tell that the spittle
of a fasting man slayeth serpents and adders, and is venom to venomous
beasts, as saith Basil.
A discording voice and an inordinate troubleth the accord of many
voices. But according voices sweet and ordinate, gladden and move to
love, and show out the passions of the soul, and witness the strength
and virtue of the spiritual members, and show pureness and good
disposition of them, and relieve travail, and put off disease and
sorrow. And make to be known the male and the female, and get and win
praising, and change the affection of the hearers; as it is said in
fables of one Orpheus, that pleased trees, woods, hills, and stones,
with sweet melody of his voice. Also a fair voice is according and
friendly to kind. And pleaseth not only men but also brute beasts, as
it fareth in oxen that are excited to travail more by sweet song of
the herd, than by strokes and pricks.
Also by sweet songs of harmony and accord or music, sick men and
frantic come oft to their wit again and health of body. Some men tell
that Orpheus said, "Emperors pray me to feasts, to have liking of me;
but I have liking of them which would bend their hearts from wrath to
mildness, from sorrow to gladness, from covetousness to largeness,
from dread to boldness." This is the ordinance of music, that is known
above the sweetness of the soul.
Now it is known by these foresaid things, how profitable is a merry
voice and sweet. And contrariwise is of an unordinate voice and
horrible, that gladdeth not, nother comforteth; but is noyful and
discomforteth and grieveth the ears and the wit. Therefore Constantine
saith that a philosopher was questioned, why an horrible man is more
heavy than any burden or wit. And men say that he answered in this
manner. An horrible man is burden to the soul and wit.
The lungs be the bellows of the heart. It beateth in opening of itself
that it may take in breath, and thrusting together may put it out, and
so it is in continual moving, in drawing in and out of breath. The
lungs be the proper instrument of the heart, for it keleth the heart,
and by subtlety of its substance, changeth the air that is drawn in,
and maketh it more subtle. The lungs shapeth the voice, and ceaseth
never of moving. For it closeth itself and spreadeth, and keepeth the
air to help the heat in its dens and holes. And therefore a beast may
not live under the water without stifling, but as long as he may hold
in the air that is gathered within. The lungs by continual moving
putteth off air that is gathered within, cleanseth and purgeth it, and
ministereth continual and convenable feeding to the vital spirit. And
departeth the heart from the instruments of feeling, and breedeth
foamy humours, and beclippeth aside half the substance of the heart.
And when the lungs be grieved by any occasion, it speedeth to death-
ward.
The liver hath name, for fire hath place therein, that passeth up anon
to the brain, and cometh thence to the eyen, and to the other wits and
limbs. And the liver by its heat, draweth woose and juice and turneth
it into blood, and serveth the body and members therewith, to the use
of feeding. In the liver is the place of voluptuousness and liking of
the flesh. The ends of the liver hight fibra, for they are straight
and passing as tongs, and beclip the stomach, and give heat to
digestion of meat: and they hight fibra, because the necromancers
brought them to the altars of their god Phoebus and offered them
there, and then they had answers.
The liver is the chief fundament of kindly virtue, and greatest helper
of the first digestion in the stomach, and the liver maketh perfectly
the second digestion in the stomach, in the hollowness of its own
substance, and departeth clean and pured, from unclean and unpured,
and sendeth feeding to all the members, and exciteth love or bodily
lust, and receiveth divers passions. Then the liver is a noble and
precious member, by whose alteration the body is altered, and the
liver sendeth feeding and virtues of feeding to the other members, to
the nether without mean, and to the other, by mean of the heart.
Some men ween, that the milt is cause of laughing. For by the spleen
we are moved to laugh, by the gall we are wroth, by the heart we are
wise, by the brain we feel, by the liver we love.
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