Just like modern-day scholars have trouble reading some texts in medieval manuscripts because the handwriting is poor or sloppy; water-damaged, flaking, or torn; in a difficult dialect; or highly abbreviated, so too did medieval scribes. Texts were copied from an exemplar, and it was not uncommon for slight changes to exist among copies from the same manuscript. This could be due to line-skipping, the inability to read a word, or numerous other reasons.
f. 1r, Anonymous, De cura sterilitatis mulierum and De infirmitatis occulorum, mid-14th century, 10a 135
Take a close look at line 20. Anything look off to you? While reading semi-gothic cursive script (and in Latin, at that) is not always easy, the last half of line 20 is seemingly completely illegible. That’s because it’s not words at all – the pen-work here is simply to fill in the rest of the line for aesthetic reasons. You’ll also see this kind of pen-work when the scribe tested the flow of ink from the quill.
f. 8v, Anonymous, De cura sterilitatis mulierum and De infirmitatis occulorum, mid-14th century, 10a 135
f. 11v, Anonymous, De cura sterilitatis mulierum and De infirmitatis occulorum, mid-14th century, 10a 135
Accompanying the second text, Cure infirmitatum oculorum, in manuscript 10a 135, are diagrams of 18 instruments used to deal with disorders of the eye, organized into six groups. The instruments for cataracts resemble hollow needles. Still used today in cataract surgeries, hollow needles were first utilized for the suction of soft cataracts by physician Ammar Ibn Ali Al-Mosuli (flourished 1010). Read more
This manuscript may be the earliest surviving copy of the works included. The works were previously attributed to Arnald of Villanova (and others), but now is thought to have been composed by unnamed people, likely in the area surrounding the University of Montpellier during the early 14th century. The first text relates how to care for (and perhaps cure?) a woman’s infertility, while the second and third texts discuss how to cure diseases of the eye. The texts are written on paper, rather than parchment.
The pages of the manuscript were trimmed at some point. On some pages, the text and not just the margins have been sliced off. Trimming manuscripts was not uncommon, especially if they were rebound in later centuries into ‘more fashionable’ bindings.
Folio 6 verso shows a later reader’s notes – or the original scribe’s demarcations – with the first bits of the phrases cut off.
f. 6v, Anonymous, De cura sterilitatis mulierum and De infirmitatis occulorum, mid-14th century, 10a 135
Don’t get me wrong. I don’t love the fever and chills, the runny nose, the sore throat, or the all-encompassing ache that seems to span from deep in the bones all the way to one’s hair follicles. I don’t love the complications—the respiratory infections, the myocarditis. In particular, I really don’t love the potential for death. What I love the flu for is divorced from these horrors, and lies in the pedagogical value afforded by teaching students about the history of influenza epidemics. Influenza epidemics are fascinating on a micro level, an evolving and mutating virus hitting the body with a slightly different impact every year. But flu season hits us on another level; as we collectively respond to epidemics it shapes our cultures, ideas, and traditions.
Laus Christos, f. 105r, Constantinus Africanus, Viaticum, ca. 1220-1244, Z10 76
Medieval scribes were likely just as glad as we are when a large piece of work is completed. These four lines celebrate the scribe’s completion of a volume containing Constantinus Africanus’ Viaticum and Nicolaus Salernitanus’ Antidotarium, followed by two short texts regarding doses and synonyms for antidotes, which is comprised of 105 folia (pages). Even today, writing out 105 pages (front and back) in legible, uniform script seems a daunting task.
The Antidotarium Nicolai was written in the 12th century by Nicolaus Salernitanus. It is a collection of pharmacopoeial remedies in alphabetical order, the first pharmacopoeia written. It is likely that Nicolaus, a medical school teacher, derived his material from a collective oral tradition which had been put together in Salerno between 1160 and 1200. The medical school at Salerno was founded in the 9th century and was one of the earliest of its kind in Western Europe.
To learn more about Constantinus and his Viaticum, check out our first #MedievalMonday post here.
Diagram showing the zodiac signs, humors, and elements, f. 81v, Constantinus Africanus, Viaticum, ca. 1220-1244, Z10 76
The first ring of the diagram identifies the zodiac signs with the related humors and elements. The four humors played a large part in medieval lives. A person whose humors were in balance was healthy; unbalanced humors caused illnesses. Basically, the human body was believed to be made of four substances: blood, yellow bile, black bile, and phlegm. Each substance was linked to a season, an element, an organ, a temperament, and other qualities. For example, black bile was related to autumn, earth, the gallbladder, melancholy, and was considered to have cold and dry properties.
People also believed the zodiac signs presided over parts of the body and were associated with an element. The bull, Taurus, ruled over the throat, neck, thyroid gland, vocal tract; and was affiliated with black bile (melancholy).
These complex astrological charts were used to determine diagnoses and treatments, which were based not only on the actual physical symptoms, but also temperaments and birth signs. This diagram illustrates the medieval worldview in which everything was connected in a tenuous balance, including mankind and his health (microcosm), and the Earth and the universe (macrocosm).
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