1 Introduction: a Mixed Picture of (Im)practicality
Linda Ehrsam Voigtsâs pathbreaking article, âAnglo-Saxon Plant Remedies and the Anglo-Saxonsâ, focuses, as its title suggests, on recipe literature in early medieval England.1 Latin, continental material, however, is never far from view. When detailing the ways in which the Old English translations of Pseudo-Apuleiusâ Herbarius adapted the Latin text and its structure, Voigts makes a direct comparison to a herbal in cod. sang. 217, a ninth-century manuscript produced on the continent and today held in the Stiftsbibliothek St. Gallen.2 Building on Erhard Landgrafâs study of this recipe collection, the St. Galler Botanicus, she notes that, of the sixty-two plants it lists, just over half of the entries âderive from the Herbarium Apulei, but twenty-six have no known source, and a number of those seem to be the addition of alpine plants. One finds as well entries which vary from the Herbarium Apulei in the addition of such details as nascitur in excelsis montis juxta aquasâ, i.e., a note explaining that the plant in question grows in high mountains.3 These features have been used to argue that the herbal was composed in a centre of manuscript production within an alpine environment, such as St Gall or a northern Italian site, and by someone familiar with the added plants. Such an interpretation speaks to the practical nature of the herbal and its recipes.4
The only certainty is that some exotic, oriental plants are actually left out of the work and that some of the newly added [plants] are said to grow in the mountains. As the only argument, however, this is not enough for localisation: exotic drugs were difficult to obtain and very expensive throughout the Latin west and therefore could easily have been deleted from the recipe texts. And âmountainsâ as a way to localise the origin of the text is far too imprecise: even if one assumes that the Alps are meant, that is still a very large area.5
Niedererâs perceptive analysis offers an important counterbalance to many of the arguments regarding the practicality of recipe literatureâand the assumption, constructed partly on these arguments, that such writings were, by definition, intended to be used in practice (see Chapter 1). Likewise, as Florence Eliza Glaze and Faith Wallis have highlighted, some medical texts, including recipes, appear to have been so altered by the process of copying and re-copying (resulting in, for example, changed meanings, Greek to Latin translation errors, and other corruptions), that they would not have been useable in the context of therapy.6 Peregrine Hordenâs emphasis on the multiple ways in which medical manuscripts could have been read is also essential to bear in mind: although a recipe collection may have been recorded with the intention to use the recipes in practice, this remains but one possibility.7
Overall, while many scholars have put forward compelling arguments for the practical features exhibited by recipe collections and documented evidence for the use of the manuscripts in which they are located, the cautionary
2 Contextualising Medicineâs Place in Early Medieval Europe and the Question of Practicality
Chapter 1 showcased how research into the corpus of surviving Old English recipes has moved the study of the relationship between medical knowledge and practice in new directions, often positing that these texts were not only intended to be used in the context of therapy but that they were, in fact, useable texts. Such arguments have offered direct challenges to the traditional view that the presumed non-local nature of many of the ingredients named in recipes would have rendered them useless in practice.8 Voigtsâs aforementioned landmark article challenges this assumption, among others; she contends that a wider range of plants could have been growing in England than might have been expected due to a combination of âauspicious climatic conditionsâ and careful cultivation. Voigts also suggests that other, non-local materia medica could have been acquired through trade.9 Regarding the latter possibility, however, a letter from the Insular world exchanged between Cynehard (d. c. 778), bishop of Winchester, and Lull (d. 786), archbishop of Mainz (though originally from Wessex), presents a different scenario: it documents instead the challenge posed by procuring particular ingredients and underlines that, for all their practical features, recipes could still present impracticalities.
In his letter, Cynehard complains to Lull that many exotic ingredients listed in medical texts âare unknown to us and difficult to come byâ, asking his continental colleague to send supplies.10 Despite coming from beyond the
On the other hand, Cynehardâs letter reflects that Lull, situated in the middle of the Frankish Empire, may have had better access to foreign products, or at least that Cynehard expected (or hoped) this was the case. Indeed, Lull, along with two other missionaries, Denehard and Burchard, is recorded as having sent a gift of frankincense, pepper, and cinnamon to the English abbess Cuneburg earlier in the eighth centuryâdid Cynehard know of this gift?12 Was he, in effect, asking for a similar package to be sent in his direction? As will be explored in Chapter 3, a number of records of elite gift exchange on the continent feature non-local products that could have served as materia medicaâwas Cynehard trying to insert himself into this gift economy?
Finally, the letter indicates that Cynehard was, in fact, consulting the medical remedies listed in his codices with the intention of preparing them. In the same letter, he also writes, âif you should come into the possession of any books of secular learning unknown to us, for example, concerning medicinesâof which we have a goodly quantity here ⦠you might consider sharing them [with us]â.13 Cynehardâs comments thus provide direct evidence for the desire
Before reviewing non-medical textual evidence for the perception and practice of medicine in Carolingian Francia, it is important to acknowledge some of the major ways in which the general healthscape of the Latin west evolved over the preceding centuries. The interrelated social, cultural, intellectual, political, economic, and religious shifts of late Antiquity altered not only the medical marketplace and approaches to healing, but also the study and transmission of medical knowledge.14 Such changes likewise had major implications for the survival of evidence relating to medicine, from the ways in which it was studied, practised, and perceived to the types of medical texts recorded, excerpted, compiled, and (re)copied. Much has been written about these topics in recent years and what follows presents a brief overview in relation to evidence that
Given medicineâs complex relationship with the Church, the spread of Christianity, and its concomitant restructuring of communities and power dynamics, is among the most significant developments to highlight during this period. Notably, this evolving relationship is documented by a wealth of non-medical sources, ranging from hagiographies and histories to the writings of the Church Fathers.16 Some texts paint doctors and classical medical traditionsâa âreligion of Hippocratesâ as described by Owsei Temkinâin a negative light by recording the ineffectiveness of medicine in comparison with divine healing or raising concerns with its pre-Christian roots.17 A number of Church authorities, including Gregory the Great (d. 604), even questioned the appropriateness of human intervention in matters of health and disease, life and death.18 Yet, as Peregrine Horden cautions, the apparent âtensions between religion and medicine should not be overstressedâ.19 Not only do diatribes against doctors and medical practice underline their presence and perceived efficacy among the general populace, but, more significantly, âsecularâ medicine was often viewed positively and as a divinely provided complement to spiritual healing.20 Indeed, the Christian emphasis on charity made caring for the sick a virtuous act and fostered the rise of hospitals, while theologians turned to
With theologians in the Greek east presenting more (and more diverse) examples of sustained engagement with medical writings in their works, the relatively few Latin authorities, such as Cassiodorus (d. c. 585) and Isidore (d. 636), who offered explicit statements on the practice and study of medicine became particularly impactful in shaping perspectives in the early medieval west. Cassiodorus, a scholar and Roman civil servant of the Ostrogothic regime, founded a monastery in southern Italy, Vivarium, and composed a text, the Institutiones, to guide this community in their pursuit of both divine and secular learning.22 Medical matters feature within his guidance: in line with the positive attitude towards healing evinced by many intellectuals of the period, he admonished the monks to help those afflicted by illness and disease with medicines and with hope in God, âemphasizing the eternal rewards granted to
In addition to articulating a general conception of medicineâs place in a Christian community, Cassiodorus also provided very specific details for the monks of Vivarium, recommending a selection of Greek medical writings in Latin translations.25 This list reveals a group of treatises that were accessible to a primarily Latin-speaking community and that he considered acceptable for a Christian audience. Cassiodorus included a herbal of Dioscorides, Latin translations of Hippocrates and Galen, âa certain anonymous work that has been collected from various authorsâ, Caelius Aureliusâ Medicine, and âvarious other works ⦠I have left to youâ.26 Although Cassiodorusâ ambiguous phrasing and nonstandard names of authors and their works have puzzled modern historians (e.g., should âCaelius Aureliusâ be interpreted as âCaelius Aurelianusâ?), surviving Carolingian copies of the texts it is thought that he suggested, in concert with evidence from extant ninth-century library catalogues, illustrate that these writings circulated in Carolingian Europe.27 Such findings not only bear witness to his long-term impact on the perception of medicine but also reflect his influence on the transmission of medical knowledge itself.
Moreover, Cassiodorusâ practical approach to medicine aligns with comments on medical care recorded in monastic rules, such as the Rule of St Benedict. Chapter 36 of this rule, for example, instructs monastic communities to care for their sick brothers, stipulating that there should be a designated
However, just as with hospitals in this period, âcareâ should not be conflated with âcureâ. Furthermore, acts of both caring and curing could concern the health of the soul rather than or alongside the body.31 In other words, although the Rule of St Benedict supports caring for the sick, its instructions do not refer to medical interventions as part of this care (aside from the possible therapeutic benefits resulting from relaxed bathing and dietary rules). On this point, the so-called Plan of St Gall, cod. sang. 1092, offers further insights.32 While this manuscript, sent by the monks of Reichenau to Abbot Gozbert of St Gall (816â37), may look like an architectural blueprint, the diagram is now
Like the preceding examples, however, it is important recognise the normative nature of this remarkable source: it reflects an ideal rather than direct evidence for medical practices on the ground. Yet, it remains noteworthy that this diagram affords medical care so much space and depicts it in such detail. Even though such a plan was never actualised in St Gall, it reveals a positive attitude towards healing and healthcare. Nevertheless, despite the detailed nature of the Plan, the manuscript does not shed light on the relationship between medical knowledge and practice. Was there a space for books in the infirmary or would the medical manuscripts of St Gall have been located in the monasteryâs main library? Given Cassiodorusâ general advice and list of works intended to be used in the context of therapy, it seems likely that the communityâs medical and pharmaceutical writingsâsome of which have survived and are central to the following chaptersâ analysesâwere expected to be consulted for therapeutic purposes. The works of Isidore of Seville, however, offer a cogent reminder that such a purpose was but one of many possible options and that, especially within the Christian environments in which such material was copied and read, texts could have multiple, layered functions.
Isidoreâs Etymologiae, a twenty-book encyclopaedia addressing all areas of knowledge, represents one of the most influential works of the period: the latest survey of early medieval manuscripts containing the text (including fragments) has identified over 400 manuscript witnesses from before the year 1000.34 Significantly, medicine is allocated an entire book, De medicina, and
While Isidoreâs overview of medicine covers much ground, it is fairly superficial and would have provided little in the way of practical guidance. Rather, it demonstrates how medical knowledge could be redeployed for Christian learning: the medical information he recorded was âintended to be studied as wordsâ.37 And, as Meg Leja points out, by focusing attention on the art of medicine and its various components, Isidore âimplicitly classified it as something essential for future Christian societiesâ; that is, medical knowledge, including material derived from non-Christian classical and late antique writers, had a place within the pastoral and pedagogical project of the early medieval west.38 Moreover, as Jacques Fontaine has argued, the Carolingian reception of the Etymologiae introduced new layers of allegorical interpretation.39 Hrabanus Maurus (d. 856), archbishop of Mainz, for example, produced an encyclopaedia, De rerum naturis (also known as De universo) that reordered and adapted
While Hrabanusâ positive references to medicine have long been seen as his support not only for medical practice but also medicineâs inclusion in the standard curriculum, Paxtonâs close readings of his metaphorical uses and allegorical interpretations of the medical art suggest otherwise.43 Yet, even if Hrabanusâ medical metaphors cannot be used as strong evidence for the subjectâs integration within a general educational programme in the Carolingian period, the frameworks provided by the writings of Cassiodorus and Isidore still suggest that this was a possibility. In fact, until at least the seventh century, there appears to have been a specialised medical school in Ravenna that followed a curriculum based on the Galenic canon established at Alexandria.44
In a letter sent by Pardulus to Hincmar of Reims (d. 882), for example, Pardulus shares dietary advice with his unwell superior, aiming to rebalance his humours and restore his health. As part of his recommendations, he writes, âwhen rising from table, one should take a measure of beans that have been thoroughly purged and cooked with very clear fat. Although according to the philosophers this is said to dull the senses, it is nonetheless believed to evacuate and dry out phlegmâ.47 While this epistle documents ecclesiastical elites engaging with learned medicine in a practical, hands-on way, Pardulus does not comment on where he gained his medical knowledge. His references to philosophers, descriptions of dietetic approaches to finding humoral balance, and use of specific terminology (such as hygeia) imply a familiarity with the types of writings circulating during this period. Pardulusâ letter is thus highly suggestive that recipes and other medical texts were studied with the intent
In contrast, in the tenth and eleventh centuries, the period immediately following this study, the use of medical texts, and specifically pharmaceutical prescriptions, for therapeutic purposes is clearly recorded in letters exchanged among the ecclesiastical elite. The writings of Richer of Reims (d. after 998) or Fulbert of Chartres (d. 1028), for instance, indicate that medical texts were studied and consulted to prepare medications.48 In a letter to Bishop Adalbero of Laon, Fulbert writes that he is sending several medications to help treat Ebalus, Adalberoâs secretary, who is suffering from an unnamed illness.49 Fulbert specifically recommends referring to the antidotaria (books of antidotes) in Laon if Adalbero needs guidance on âwhat these [medications] are good for and how to take or to administer themâ.50 Yet, given the shifting landscape of medical learning discussed in Chapter 1, the comments of Richer and Fulbert should not be assumed to reflect the ways in which Carolingian scribes, readers, and medical practitioners engaged with their medical texts.
A quiet life has many rewards: not least of these Is the joy that comes to him who devotes himself to the art
They knew at Paestum, and learns the ancient skill of obscene
Priapusâthe joy that comes of devoting himself to a garden⦠This I have learnt not only from common opinion
And searching about in old books, but from experienceâ
Experience of hard work and sacrifice of many days
When I might have rested, but chose instead to labor.51
Forthwith flock in the doctors [medici], disciples of Hippocrates:
This one opens veins, this one mixes herbs in a pot,
That one cooks up a poultice, another offers potions.54
Alcuin offers a tantalising glimpse into the practices of these largely invisible professionals, noting what the medici doâand these activities fit with those recorded in the medical textsâbut he provides no further evidence regarding their identity, training, sources of information, and so on.55 As noted in Chapter 1, named medical practitioners are few and far between, though medici
It must also be remembered that the written record captures only a fraction of the variety of medical practitioners active during this period.58 While the textual evidence reveals the existence of elite male practitioners, it rarely sheds light on âinformal healthcare delivered by men and women in their communitiesâ.59 Yet, the general absence of evidence regarding the provision of healthcare beyond elite networks should not be read as evidence of absence; as Patricia Skinner cautions, âwe must remain alive to the possibility that [informal healthcare] existed, and that the picture we build up from the surviving sources may only be a small part of the wholeâ.60 When considering the potential diversity of the medical marketplace, it is important to recognise that many of the individuals involved in healing practices, and especially those unrecorded by the texts, may not have had the skills or resources (including access to the manuscripts) to incorporate medical texts in their practice or that they worked within complementary healing systems (e.g., miraculous cures).61 The literate medici, who, given their connections and education, are more likely to have consulted texts as part of their practice, may have represented only a small percentage of the available practitioners during this period. Consequently, their practices and potential engagement with the medical literature in circulation likely reflect just one of the many interwoven threads within the complex web of healing traditions in early medieval Europe.
While acknowledging that the medical writings recorded in manuscripts capture only a partial picture of the wider healthscape, as the other types of documentary evidence surveyed above make clear, these texts remain
That being said, given the large number of manuscripts that remained in monastic contexts, such as the libraries of Lorsch, St Gall, Reichenau, and Corbie, it is also important to reflect on this particular type of environment. Under the influence of Mönchsmedizin, the inclusion of certain types of medical writings, such as treatises on or including gynaecology, in these codices was used to argue that ancient texts were blindly copied and had little practical value. Countering this interpretation, Peregrine Horden has shown that texts on such âproblematicâ topics could have been used in multiple ways and in multiple settingsâeven within the cloister.65 In a monastic environment without
2.1 Summary
While past scholarship has uncovered evidence for a number of different ways to practise medicine and pursue healing in the Carolingian world, there are few clear signs that medical texts were consulted as part of this practice. That is not to say that texts were ignored in the context of therapy, but rather to remember that explicit evidence for this type of use, such as Cynehardâs letter, is exceedingly rare. Therefore, although it may be tempting to extrapolate from the evidence presented in the writings of Cassiodorus, the medical features depicted in the Plan of St Gall, or the comments of later authors, and presume that medical writings were used in medical practice, it would be inappropriate to make such an assumption. Between the repurposing of medical knowledge seen in the works of Isidore and Hrabanus, the âunintelligibilityâ exhibited by some medical texts, as well as Cynehardâs inability to access ingredients, it becomes clear that medical writings, including seemingly practical recipe collections, could be used in multiple ways or become unusable for therapeutic purposes.69
An in-depth reconsideration of recipe practicality, in terms of both intention/design and use, is therefore much needed. Can the evidence for both practicality and impracticality be reconciled? Cynehardâs letter documents his experiences across the channel, but what was the situation in Carolingian Francia? Before turning to case studies on the question of practicality
3 Outlining the Recipe Literature
Over 100 codices containing medical texts have survived from the eighth and ninth centuries alone.70 Most of these can be termed âmedical manuscriptsâ, i.e., their contents focus largely, if not entirely, on texts relating to health and medicine. Given the vocabulary used in manuscript catalogues from the period, this label parallels Carolingian descriptions of these codices.71 It must be remembered, however, that although this terminology suggests that medical writings were understood to belong to a distinct subject area, such writings could also appear outside of strictly medical manuscripts. Medicine often travelled with calendrical material, for example, due to the significant links between these areas of learning.72 Medical texts also appear in seemingly unexpected contexts, such as the addition of medical materialâsometimes no more than a single recipeâto a blank space in a manuscript otherwise unconnected to health, medicine, and related fields.73 While these finds are important, especially when considering the spread of medical knowledge, they provide only a fraction of the total number of surviving texts, and the majority of the recipes analysed in this book are located in medical manuscripts. It is therefore worth pausing to highlight the complex, unstable nature of these codices before reviewing the recipe literature contained within them, especially since many
While texts relating to pharmacy represent a substantial proportion of the writings preserved within medical manuscripts, this area of medicine was one of many that interested Carolingian compilers. Other popular topics include phlebotomy, diagnosis and prognosis, and dietetics and preventative medicine, to name but a few.74 Faith Wallis and Peregrine Horden, in particular, have provided important and perceptive syntheses of the manuscript evidence and the challenges it poses to modern researchers given its inconsistencies, variability, and paradoxical âreverence for authority coincid[ing] with extraordinary indifference to textual authenticityâ.75 As Wallis recognises, âthe more important the text was for the early medieval reader ⦠the more it was subject to dismemberment, rearrangement, abbreviation, and so forthâ.76 With texts concerning pharmaceutical information comprising one of the most popular areas of medical writing, the surviving recipe literature reflects this dismemberment, rearrangement, and abbreviation.
Since Antiquity, recipes have been gathered to form collections of various sizes, structures, and thematic concentrations, as described below. Copies of classical and late antique collections continued to circulate in the early medieval west, though often in âdecanonisedâ and adapted versions.77 Alongside these established (if unstable) texts, new compilations were produced that brought together multiple earlier sources as well as outside influences, combining and recombining pharmaceutical information in novel ways. This book focuses on recipes from these new compositions as well as âmiscellaneousâ prescriptions found outside of large collections. As described in Chapter 1, the relative lack of engagement with these types of recipes in past scholarship, combined with the fieldâs changing research trends, provides an ideal opportunity to analyse a large sample of previously overlooked and/or understudied material. These recipes, moreover, are particularly useful for investigating questions of practicality and applicability given that they combine a variety of sources rather than presenting the work of a single author or more established tradition. In
Over the following pages, I introduce the recipes under consideration, first reviewing the typical ways in which prescriptions were presented and ordered into collections. This starts with an emphasis on classical and late antique traditions due to their influence on early medieval compilations. Indeed, the shared manuscript contexts in which all these texts are located highlight both the differences between collections as well as their innate entanglements and commonalities. This leads, therefore, to an overview of the specific manuscripts involved in the present study.
3.1 Recipes and Recipe Collections
The recipes recorded in early medieval manuscriptsâwhether in copies of classical and late antique pharmaceutical treatises or in new compositionsâappear in a range of formats and with varied levels of detail and complexity. One of the most fundamental distinctions is that between simple and compound medicines.79 The former, simplicia, offer treatments based on a single primary ingredient (the active drug). Although the selected substance was sometimes intended to be used completely alone (e.g., a treatment might simply advise that a herbal product should be ingested), many recipes provide instructions that combine the primary ingredient with at least one additional substance that served as a liquefying agent, binder, etc., and that was not perceived as having a therapeutic effect. In contrast, compound medicines, compositiones, involve a mixture of materia medica and, rather than targeting a single ailment, were often presented as treatments for multiple conditions.80 While compound medicines could include just a handful of active ingredients,
Simples and compounds were traditionally associated with different types of recipe collections, though these divisions and organising principles were somewhat fluid, especially in early medieval compendia. Texts focused on and ordered by materia medica, such as herbals and bestiaries, concentrate on simplicia.82 In these collections, each chapter covers a different ingredient and often provides some information about the substance in question (e.g., synonyms, instructions for collection and/or preparation, etc.) in addition to its medical uses. Dioscoridesâ (c. 40â90) De materia medica, an enormous composition with individual chapters dedicated to nearly 800 plants and over 100 animals and minerals, respectively, is the most comprehensive of the ancient works following this general schematic and had a lasting impact.83 New compositions were created not only by following Dioscoridesâ model but also by directly excerpting, rearranging, and translating his text and, later, its descendants.
In surviving manuscripts, the widespread circulation of recipe collections ordered by materia medica suggests that they were a popular genre within pharmaceutical writing.84 In particular, a group of late antique herbals and
In contrast to simples, the multipart nature of compound medicines, such as antidotes, is less suited to treatises ordered by individual materia medica; instead, compositiones tend to be found in separate collections, antidotaria. In these texts, prescriptions are typically named after a) a primary or noteworthy ingredient(s), b) their (alleged) creator or a famous user, or c) a principal
The a capite ad calcem arrangement can already be seen in some texts attributed to Galen and became a very popular ordering strategy in late antique adaptations of earlier works. Consider, for example, the Plinian family of pharmaceutical writings. Medical recipes are scattered throughout Pliny the Elderâs (23â79) monumental and unwieldy Natural History.90 Anonymous compilers excerpted the medical sections and reordered them from head to toe, producing new texts, the Medicina Plinii and Physica Plinii, in the fourth and sixth centuries, respectively.91 Similar processes of reworking, excerpting, condensing, and translating ancient medical writings can be observed in the works of numerous late antique authors, including Oribasius (c. 320â400), Caelius
When producing new compilations, late antique authors did not simply work from a single text, reordering or excerpting material in isolation; rather, just like the ancient medical writers before them and the early medieval compilers who would follow, they often brought together multiple sources. In these late antique syntheses, as Nutton highlights, âextracts from earlier writers are assembled, often verbatim and duly acknowledged, into a coherent mosaic of opinions, ideas and remediesâ.95 In some cases, the authorities cited were near contemporaries: Marcellus, for example, refers to the âtwo Pliniesâ, i.e., Pliny the Elder and the anonymous compiler of the Medicina Plinii, as sources for his extensive recipe collection, De medicamentis liber.96 The production of new compendia in the early Middle Ages continued these practices of excerpting and reordering earlier sources, if with certain differences. While some trends appear amplified, such as the reduction of theoretical material and emphasis on texts with a seemingly practical orientation, others speak to evolving contexts of production: material unrecorded in the classical corpus, ranging from the inclusion of Christian elements to new materia medica, also comes into view.97 Overall, these developments suggest that broadly similar impulses underpinned the creation of new compendia in both late Antiquity
Significantly, although, like earlier compilations, many early medieval compendia brought together material from classical and late antique recipe collections that followed multiple organisational principles, in contrast to earlier compilers, early medieval compilers did not necessarily impose a single overarching structure on their new compositions.98 As a result, many of these early medieval products only loosely follow one of the standard organisational strategies or alternate between several approaches, suggesting that clusters of information were derived from specific sources. For example, entries following the herbal model (i.e., a section of text that names a plant, provides some basic information about it, and lists a series of simples using it) sometimes punctuate a collection in which recipes are more frequently listed under headings reflecting the ailment they aim to treat, though the headings may not be ordered a capite ad calcem.99 Although such varied assemblages might raise questions about their potential usability in practice (how would a practitioner know where to find a particular recipe within this assortment?), many compendia begin with lists of their contents that would have helped readers to navigate these multi-layered collections.100
Furthermore, it is important to recognise that these compilations, like the manuscripts in which they are found, often include more than recipes alone. In addition to prescriptions, pharmaceutical collections commonly incorporate supplementary, related material, such as brief tracts on weights and measures, urine analysis, or phlebotomy.101 Such inclusions reinforce the
Here, it is also necessary to elaborate on the term ârecipeâ. Excepting the extra-pharmaceutical extracts mentioned above, most of the entries within recipe collections could be classified as âremediesâ; that is, âa medicine or treatment that promotes healing or alleviates symptomsâ.102 Some, however, are broader in scope, such as instructions for the preparation of composite ingredients, including oxymel, various oils and unguents, and incense. Recipes for these products can be found alongside remedies.103 Although such ingredients may not have been intended to treat a disease or alleviate symptoms, they still had a medical purpose, serving as components within remedies. Moreover, some of these composite ingredients may have, in fact, been used both as the constituent parts of a remedy and as treatments themselves. The term ârecipeâ, therefore, more accurately describes the material at hand and, in the analyses that follow, all recorded recipes have been considered, rather than exclusively focusing those entries that can be clearly shown to be remedies, given the potential ambiguities and overlap between categories.
Related to defining what constitutes a recipe within the context of this study is the question of how to count recipes. In line with classical and late antique pharmaceutical writings, titled entries within recipe collections often represent discrete chapters, within which multiple recipes may be listed. Contents lists record these titles, meaning that their numbering is based on chapters rather than individual recipes. In the following analyses, all recipes
Finally, what information is recorded in the recipes themselves? As noted above in relation to the differences between simple and compound medicines, recipes can vary widely in their presentation, complexity, and level of detail. The division between simplicia and compositiones, for example, highlights that the number of active ingredients and targeted ailments ranges across a broad spectrum: a simple recipe might involve a single substance and be intended to treat one disease, whereas a complex antidote could list over fifty ingredients and aim to help scores of different illnesses, wounds, aches, and pains. In addition to these basic differences, there is also great variation with respect to the inclusion of instructions and, when included, level of detail. Some recipes provide guidance on the processes involved in the preparation, production, and administration of the treatment in question, defining, for example, the best time to collect the ingredient(s), specifying ingredient quantities or ratios, and recommending when and how long to administer the treatment. Conversely, other recipes record no more than a list of ingredients.
With this overview of recipes and recipe collections, it is possible to turn to the present studyâs selected manuscripts.
3.2 The Manuscript Sample104
The analyses in the following chapters are based on my transcriptions of recipes from a sample of twenty-four manuscripts (see Table 1 below for the list of codices). These manuscripts are today located in the Stiftsbibliothek St. Gallen (eleven manuscripts), Bibliothèque nationale de France (eight manuscripts), and Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (five manuscripts). These three libraries not only house many of the most important collections of early medieval manuscripts and charters but, within their collections, they each contain large concentrations of early medieval medical manuscripts. Augusto Beccariaâs
Summary of manuscripts (including number of recipes in each manuscript)
| Library | Manuscript | # of recipes |
|---|---|---|
| Bibliothèque nationale de France | lat. 2849A | 54 |
| lat. 2858 | 2 | |
| lat. 5543 | 65 | |
| lat. 6882A | 61 | |
| lat. 7021 | 1 | |
| lat. 9332 | 9 | |
| lat. 11218 | 803 | |
| lat. 11219 | 121 | |
| Library subtotal | 1116 | |
| Stiftsbibliothek St. Gallen | cod. sang. 44 | 917 |
| cod. sang. 217 | 316 | |
| cod. sang. 397 | 2 | |
| cod. sang. 550 | 3 | |
| cod. sang. 751 | 1187 | |
| cod. sang. 752 | 15 | |
| cod. sang. 759 | 451 | |
| cod. sang. 761 | 46 | |
| cod. sang. 878 | 17 | |
| cod. sang. 899 | 42 | |
| cod. sang. 1396 | 118 | |
| Library subtotal | 3114 | |
| Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana | pal. lat. 187 | 2 |
| pal. lat. 1088 | 835 | |
| reg. lat. 598 | 12 | |
| reg. lat. 1143 | 312 | |
| vat. lat. 5951 | 1 | |
| Library subtotal | 1162 | |
| Total | 5392 |
Overall, these twenty-four codices under consideration thus present a substantial sample of the extant manuscript evidence concerning recipes outside the established canon. Nevertheless, it is also essential to consider the selected manuscriptsâ representativity with respect to their chronological range, geographic distribution, and contents. In terms of dating, the earliest manuscripts under analysis, including cod. sang. 217 and BnF lat. 11218, are thought to have been produced in the late eighth or early ninth centuries, whereas the latest manuscripts, such as codd. sang. 752 and 899, have been dated to c. 900.107 Recipes have also been added over time in many of the codices, including those that can be described as âmedical manuscriptsâ as well as those which focus on non-medical material. Where recipe additions appear to have been incorporated by c. 900, such as in the cases of bav reg. lat. 598 and BnF lat.
Regarding geographic distribution, these codices were written in centres of manuscript production across continental western Europe, including in ecclesiastical communities at the heart of Carolingian intellectual developments, such as St Gall and Reichenau, as well as at sites on the peripheries of the Frankish Empire, such as centres in northern Italy and Brittany (see the map for sites with known connections to a number of individual manuscripts under consideration as well as, in the cases where localisation remains regional, probable locations of production). Many of the manuscripts located in St Gall today, such as codd. sang. 752 and 899, appear to have originated within this community, while others, including codd. sang. 217 and 751, appear to have arrived not long after they were produced. These two codices, along with the medical half of cod. sang. 44, are thought to have been written in northern Italy and illustrate the connections between northern Italian sites of manuscript production and Alpine monastic centres. Indeed, despite their distance from the Frankish heartlands, northern Italian writing centres, such as Bobbio, Nonantola, and Verona, were deeply embedded within Carolingian ecclesiastical and intellectual networks, and the movement of several of the manuscripts involved in this study bears witness to these connections.108 Moreover, a general survey of extant early medieval medical texts suggests that centres in northwest Francia and northern Italy were especially active in the production and dissemination of manuscripts containing medical writings during this period.109 With this in mind, it is therefore worth noting that a significant proportion of the manuscripts in the sample are thought to have been produced and were circulating in these regions; codices that can be linked to more western Frankish intellectual centres include, for example, BnF lat. 2858, 5543, and 9332.
Lastly, the sample also contains a variety of manuscript types. Many of the manuscripts, including codd. sang. 751, 759, bav pal. lat. 1088, reg. lat. 1143, BnF
Based on the sampleâs a) inclusion of multiple manuscript types, b) varied geographic distribution that simultaneously emphasises regions associated with the production of medical manuscripts, and c) chronological spectrum spanning c. 775â900, this study considers a representative selection of early medieval Latin manuscripts that contain medical texts. The sample is also particularly well-suited, both chronologically and geographically, to the osteological evidence addressed in Part 2, a topic covered in Chapter 6. Table 1 summarises the distribution of recipes within the manuscript sample; the total number of recipes from the manuscript sample comes to 5392, with roughly three-fifths of the recipes found in the eleven manuscripts from St Gall and one-fifth found in the manuscripts of both the Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana and Bibliothèque nationale de France, respectively. Given the uneven distribution of recipes between manuscriptsâBnF lat. 7021 contains just one recipe whereas cod. sang. 751 includes over 1000âcertain codices are referred to more frequently in the following chapters than others.
Building on this background to the texts and manuscripts, it is time to investigate the ingredients recorded in their folia.
Voigts, âAnglo-Saxon Plant Remediesâ. See Chapter 1 for further discussion of this piece and its influence on the field.
Voigts, âAnglo-Saxon Plant Remediesâ, 256. For an edition of Pseudo-Apuleiusâ Herbarius, see Pseudo-Apuleius. Herbarius, in Antonii Musae De herba vettonica liber. Pseudoapulei Herbarius. Anonymi De taxone liber. Sexti Placiti Liber medicinae ex animalibus etc., ed. Ernst Howald and Henry E. Sigerist. cml 4 (Leipzig: Teubner, 1927), 15â225.
Voigts, âAnglo-Saxon Plant Remediesâ, 256; Erhard Landgraf, âEin frühmittelalterlicher Botanicusâ, Kyklos 1 (1928): 114â46.
Ibid.
Der St. Galler Botanicus, ed. and trans. Niederer, 29: âSicher ist nur, dass tatsächlich manche exotischen, orientalischen Pflanzen aus der Vorlage weggelassen sind, und dass von manchen der neu hinzugefügten gesagt wird, sie wüchsen im Gebirge. Als einziges Argument reicht das jedoch nicht aus zur Lokalisierung: Exotische Drogen waren im ganzen lateinischen Abendland schwer zu beschaffen und sehr teuer und hätten daher leicht aus den Rezepttexten gestrichen werden können. Und âGebirgeâ als Lokalisierungshilfe für die Entstehung des Textes ist viel zu ungenau: Selbst wenn man annimmt, dass damit die Alpen gemeint sind, ist das immer noch ein sehr grosses Gebietâ.
Glaze, âThe Perforated Wallâ, 5â6; Wallis, âSigns and Sensesâ, 273.
Horden, âPrefatory Noteâ.
E.g., Grattan and Singer, Anglo-Saxon Magic and Medicine, 28.
Voigts, âAnglo-Saxon Plant Remediesâ, 266.
Faith Wallis, Medieval Medicine: A Reader (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2010), 110â11; âEpistula 114â, in Die Briefe des heiligen Bonifatius und Lullus, ed. Michael Tangl, mgh Epistulae selectae 1 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1916), 247 (see n. 13 below for the Latin text).
Voigts, âAnglo-Saxon Plant Remediesâ, 250â68.
âEpistula 49â, in Die Briefe des heiligen Bonifatius und Lullus, ed. Tangl, 78â80. The gifts are described on p. 80: Parva quoque munusculorum transmisio scedulam istam comitatur, quae sunt tria, id est turis et piperis et cinnamomi permodi[c]a [x]enia, sed omni mentis affectione destinata.
Wallis, Medieval Medicine, 110â11; âEpistula 114â, in Die Briefe des heiligen Bonifatius und Lullus, ed. Tangl, 246â7: Et hoc petimus, si qua apud vos solamina nobis necessaria vel ignota, spiritalis quidem scientiae sive in libris antiquis, qui a nobis habentur, sive in aliis ecclesiasticis administrationibus, ut nobis libenter participare non negetis. Nec non et, si quos saecularis scientiae libros nobis ignotos adepturi sitis, ut sunt de medicinalibus, quorum copia est aliqua apud nos, sed tamen [p]igmenta ultramarina, quae in eis scripta conperimus, ignota nobis sunt et difficilia adipiscendum, vel si qua in aliis quibuslibet negotiis vel speciebus nobis necessariis providetis, communicare dignemini, ut fecistis villosam mittendo.
For broader overviews of late Antiquity and the transition to the early Middle Ages, see, for example, Peter Brown, The Making of Late Antiquity (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1978); Averil Cameron, The Mediterranean World of Late Antiquity, 395â700 ad, 2nd ed. Abingdon: Routledge, 2012); G. W. Bowersock, Peter Brown, and Oleg Grabar, eds., Late Antiquity: A Guide to the Postclassical World (Cambridge, MA: Belknap Press, 1999); and the volumes stemming from the esf project âTransformation of the Roman Worldâ (1992â97), e.g., Inge Lyse Hansen and Chris Wickham, eds., The Long Eighth Century. Production, Distribution and Demand (Leiden: Brill, 2000); Richard Corradini, Max Diesenberger, and Helmut Reimitz, eds., The Construction of Communities in the Early Middle Ages. Texts, Resources and Artefacts (Leiden: Brill, 2003); and Frans Theuws and Janet L. Nelson, eds., Rituals of Power: From Late Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages (Leiden: Brill, 2000).
For more detailed accounts of the state of medicine in late Antiquity and the transition to the early Middle Ages in relation to wider social, cultural, intellectual, political, economic, and religious shifts, see, for example, Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 299â317; Horden, âWhatâs Wrong with Early Medieval Medicine?â; Peregrine Horden, âSickness and Healingâ, in The Cambridge History of Christianity 3: Early Medieval Christianities, c. 600â1100, ed. Thomas F. X. Noble and Julia M. H. Smith (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 416â32; Palmer, âMerovingian Medicineâ.
Jonathan L. Zecher, Spiritual Direction as a Medical Art in Early Christian Monasticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2022); Andrew Crislip, Thorns in the Flesh: Illness and Sanctity in Late Ancient Christianity (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2013); Gary B. Ferngren, Medicine and Health Care in Early Christianity (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2009).
Owsei Temkin, Hippocrates in a World of Pagans and Christians (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1995), 181. Healing miracles make frequent appearances in hagiographical writings; on Caesarius of Arlesâ concerns about pagan influences, see Caesarius of Arles, Sermons, trans. Mary Magdeleine Mueller, 3 vols. (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 1956), vol. 1, Sermons 52 and 53, at pp. 259â65.
Gregory the Great wrote that the âgiftâ of sickness should be endured (though he does not appear to have always heeded his own advice): Gregory the Great, The Book of Pastoral Rule, trans. James Barmby (Buffalo: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895), 35.
Horden, âSickness and Healingâ, 101.
Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 312â17; Horden, âSickness and Healingâ, 100â3.
Ferngren, Medicine and Health Care. On hospitals, see Andrew T. Crislip, From Monastery to Hospital: Christian Monasticism & the Transformation of Health Care in Late Antiquity (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2005); and especially the work of Peregrine Horden, including, Peregrine Horden, âAlms and the Man: Hospital Founders in Byzantiumâ, in The Impact of Hospitals, 300â2000, ed. John Henderson, Peregrine Horden, and Alessandro Pastore (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2007), 59â76; Peregrine Horden, âPoverty, Charity, and the Invention of the Hospitalâ, in The Oxford Handbook of Late Antiquity, ed. Scott Fitzgerald Johnson (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 715â43; and Peregrine Horden, âCities Within Cities: Early Hospital Foundations and Urban Spaceâ, in Stiftungen zwischen Politik und Wirtshaft. Ein Dialog zwischen Geschichte und Gegenwart, ed. Sitta von Reden (Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015), 157â75. On the use of medical imagery and ideas in theological writings, see, for example, Marie-Anne Vannier, âLâimage du Christ médecin chez les pèresâ, in Les Pères de lâÃglise face à la science médicale de leur temps, ed. Véronique Boudon-Millot and Bernard Pouderon (Paris: Beauchesne, 2005), 525â34; Michael Dörnemann, âEiner ist Arzt, Christus: Medizinales Verständnis von Erlösung in der Theologie der griechischen Kirchenväter des zweiten bis vierten Jahrhundertsâ, Zeitschrift für antikes Christentum/Journal of Ancient Christianity 17 (2013): 102â24,
Cassiodorus, Cassiodori Senatoris Institutiones, ed. R. A. B. Mynors (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1937); for an English translation, see Cassiodorus, Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning, in Cassiodorus, Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning and On the Soul, trans. James W. Halporn (Liverpool: Liverpool University Press, 2004).
Cassiodorus, Cassiodori Senatoris Institutiones, 78; Leja, Embodying the Soul, 106.
Leja, Embodying the Soul; Leja, âThe Sacred Artâ.
Cassiodorus, Cassiodori Senatoris Institutiones, 78â9.
Cassiodorus, Cassiodori Senatoris Institutiones, 78â9: Quod si vobis non fuerit Graecarum litterarum nota facundia, in primis habetis Herbarium Dioscoridis, qui herbas agrorum mirabili proprietate disseruit atque depinxit; post haec legite Hippocratem atque Galienum Latina lingua conversos, id est Tharapeutica Galieni ad philosophum Glauconem destinata, et anonymum quendam, qui ex diversis auctoribus probatur esse collectus. Deinde Caeli Aureli de Medicina et Hippocratis de Herbis et Curis diversosque alios medendi arte compositos, quos vobis in bibliothecae nostrae sinibus reconditos Deo auxiliante dereliqui. Translation from: Cassiodorus, Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning, trans. Halporn, 166.
On the question of identifying the texts, see Pierre Courcelle, Late Latin Writers and Their Greek Sources, trans. Harry E. Wedeck (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1969), 403. For mentions of medical texts in surviving early medieval library catalogues, see Glaze, âThe Perforated Wallâ, 268â91. On early medieval catalogues (with a focus on those from Lorsch), see Angelika Häse, Mittelalterliche Bücherverzeichnisse aus Kloster Lorsch. Einleitung, Edition und Kommentar (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 2002).
rb 1980: The Rule of St. Benedict in Latin and English with Notes, ed. and trans. Timothy Fry (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 1981), Chapter 36.
rb 1980, ed. and trans. Fry, Chapters 36â7, 39.
Felice Lifshitz, âThe Historiography of Central Medieval Western Monasticismâ, in The Cambridge History of Medieval Monasticism in the Latin West, ed. Alison I. Beach and Isabelle Cochelin, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 365â81. For recent approaches, see especially Albrecht Diem, âInventing the Holy Rule: Some Observations on the History of Monastic Normative Observance in the Early Medieval Westâ, in Western Monasticism ante litteram: The Spaces of Monastic Observance in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages, ed. Hendrik Dey and Elizabeth Fentress (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011), 53â84; Albrecht Diem and Claudia Rapp, âThe Monastic Laboratory: Perspectives of Research in Late Antique and Early Medieval Monasticismâ, in The Cambridge History of Medieval Monasticism in the Latin West, ed. Alison I. Beach and Isabelle Cochelin, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 19â39; Albrecht Diem and Philip Rousseau, âMonastic Rules (Fourth to Ninth Century)â, in The Cambridge History of Medieval Monasticism in the Latin West, ed. Alison I. Beach and Isabelle Cochelin, vol. 1 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2020), 162â94 (quotation at p. 163); and Kramer, âMonasticism, Reform, and Authority in the Carolingian Eraâ.
Horden, âSickness and Healingâ; Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 315.
Cod. sang. 1092. On the Plan, see Barbara Schedl, Der Plan von St. Gallen: Ein Modell europäischer Klosterkultur (Vienna: Böhlau, 2014) and Walter Horn and Ernest Born, The Plan of St. Gall: A Study of the Architecture and Economy of, and Life in a Paradigmatic Carolingian Monastery, 3 vols. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1979).
In cod. sang. 1092, these are listed as costo, menta, pulegio, ruta, and saluia; Horn and Born, The Plan of St. Gall, 181â3. See Chapter 4 for further discussion of gardens and local materia medica.
Evina Steinová, âThe Oldest Manuscript Tradition of the Etymologiae (Eighty Years after A. E. Anspach)â, Visigothic Symposium 4 (2020â21): 100â43,
See Isidore, Etymologiae, Book 4. On Isidore and medicine, see especially Arsenio Ferraces RodrÃguez, ed., âIsidorus medicusâ: Isidoro de Sevilla y los textos de medicina (A Coruña: Servizio de Publicacións, Universidade da Coruña, 2005).
On De initiis medicinae, see Isidore, Etymologiae, 4.13.
Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 301.
Leja, Embodying the Soul, 105.
Jacques Fontaine, âIsidore de Séville et la mutation de lâencyclopédisme antiqueâ, Cahiers dâHistoire Mondiale 9, no. 1 (1966): 519â38.
Frederick S. Paxton, âCuring BodiesâCuring Souls: Hrabanus Maurus, Medical Education, and the Clergy in Ninth-Century Franciaâ, Journal of the History of Medicine and Allied Sciences 50, no. 2 (1995): 230â52, at p. 241.
Paxton, âCuring BodiesâCuring Soulsâ, 247; Hrabanus Maurus, De universo 18.5, pl 111, cols. 500â4.
Paxton, âCuring BodiesâCuring Soulsâ, 243.
Paxton, âCuring BodiesâCuring Soulsâ. Cf. MacKinney, Early Medieval Medicine, 94â5; Loren C. MacKinney, âMedical Education in the Middle Agesâ, Cahiers dâhistoire mondiale 2, no. 4 (1955): 835â61, at p. 846; Richard Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 58.
On Ravennaâs medical school, see Nicoletta Palmieri, âIl galenismo alessandrino in Italia tra antichità tarda e alto medioevoâ, in La conoscenza scientifica nellâalto medioevo: Spoleto, 25 aprile-1 maggio 2019, Settimane 67, vol. 1 (Spoleto: Fondazione Centro italiano di studi sullâalto medioevo, 2020), 237â70; Nicoletta Palmieri, âNouvelles remarques sur les commentaires à Galien de lâécole médicale de Ravenneâ, in «Docente natura». Mélanges de médecine ancienne et médiévale offerts à Guy Sabbah, ed. Armelle Debru and Nicoletta Palmieri (Saint-Ãtienne: Publications de lâUniversité de Saint-Ãtienne, 2001), 209â46; and, for a summary of current scholarship, Judith Herrin, Ravenna: Capital of Empire, Crucible of Europe (London: Allen Lane, 2020), 239â44. On the Alexandrian curriculum, see, in addition to Nicoletta Palmieriâs works cited above, Ivan Garofalo and Amneris Roselli, eds., Galenismo e medicina tardoantica. Fonti greche, latine e arabe. Atti del Seminario internazionale di Siena, Certosa di Pontignano, 9 e 10 settembre 2002 (Naples: Istituto Universitario Orientale, 2003).
MacKinney, Early Medieval Medicine; MacKinney, âTenth-Century Medicineâ; John J. Contreni, âMasters and Medicine in Northern France in the Reign of Charles the Baldâ, in Charles the Bald: Court and Kingdom. Papers Based on a Colloquium Held in London in April 1979, edited by Margaret T. Gibson and Janet Nelson, 2nd ed. (Aldershot: Variorum, 1990), 267â82.
For examples of Carolingian intellectuals who demonstrate some degree of medical learning in their surviving writings, see especially Contreni, âMasters and Medicineâ. On medicine as part of a general education, see Palmer, âMerovingian Medicineâ.
Contreni, âMasters and Medicineâ, 282: In ultimo, antequam surgatur a mensa, faba purgatissima cum purissimo pingui ad mensuram decocta sumatur; quae licet secundum philosophos sensum obtundere dicatur, tamen phlegmata et deponere et exsiccare creditur. Translation from Wallis, Medieval Medicine, 111â12.
Richer of Reims, Histoire de France, ed. and trans. Robert Latouche, 2 vols. (Paris: H. Champion, 1930), vol. 2, 224â30; Fulbert of Chartres, The Letters and Poems of Fulbert of Chartres, ed. and trans. Frederick Behrends (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1976), see, for example, Letters 24, 47, 48, and 71 (at pp. 45â7, 83â4, 84â5, and 119â20, respectively).
Fulbert, The Letters and Poems of Fulbert of Chartres, Letter 47 (at pp. 83â4).
Ibid, and translation from Wallis, Medieval Medicine, 15.
Walahfrid Strabo, De cultura hortorum, ed. Ernst Dümmler, mgh Poet. 2 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1884), 335â49. Latin text and translation from Walahfrid Strabo, Hortulus, trans. Raef Payne (Pittsburgh: Hunt Botanical Library, 1966), 24â5: Plurima tranquillae cum sint insignia vitae, / Non minimum est, si quis Paestanae deditus artis / Noverit obsceni curas tractare Priapi. / ⦠Haec non sola mihi patefecit opinio famae / Vulgaris, quaesita libris nec lectio priscis; / Sed labor et studium, quibus otia longa dierum / Postposui, expertum rebus docuere probatis.
Voigts uses Walahfridâs comments in the Hortulus as evidence of his use of medical texts in the practice of medicine. Walahfridâs references to book learning, however, do not explicitly confirm this. See Voigts, âAnglo-Saxon Plant Remediesâ, 268.
Horden, âSickness and Healingâ, 96.
Alcuin, Carmina, 26, ed. Ernst Dümmler, mgh Poet. 1 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1881), 245: Accurrunt medici mox, Hippocratica secta: / Hic venas fundit, herbas hic miscet in olla, / Ille coquit pultes, alter sed pocula praefert. Translation from Wallis, Medieval Medicine, 80.
For additional comments on medici by Alcuin, see Alcuin, Epistola, 213, ed. Ernst Dümmler, mgh Epp. kar. aevi 2 (Berlin: Weidmann, 1895), 356â7.
Skinner, Health and Medicine in Early Medieval Southern Italy; Pilsworth, Healthcare in Early Medieval Northern Italy, 187â209.
Pilsworth, Healthcare in Early Medieval Northern Italy, 187.
Horden, âSickness and Healingâ, 92â3.
Skinner, Health and Medicine in Early Medieval Southern Italy, 83.
Ibid.
Valerie J. Flint, âThe Early Medieval âMedicusâ, the Saintâand the Enchanterâ, Social History of Medicine 2, no. 2 (1989): 127â45,
Glaze, âThe Perforated Wallâ, 1.
Bernhard Schnell, âProlegomena to a History of Medieval German Medical Literature: The Twelfth Centuryâ, in Manuscript Sources of Medieval Medicine: A Book of Essays, ed. Margaret R. Schleissner (London: Garland, 1995), 3â15, at p. 12. For early studies commenting on the monastic context of early medieval medicine see Studien und Texte, ed. Sigerist (especially p. 186) and Frühmittelalterliche Rezeptarien, ed. Jörimann (especially p. 1).
On the evidence for the circulation of medical manuscripts specifically, see Glaze, âThe Perforated Wallâ, 69â79; on lay medical book ownership, see Glaze, âThe Perforated Wallâ, 13â14, n. 6. It is also useful to remember that in the early medieval Greek east, luxury or display copies of medical writings, such as Vienna, önb, Med. gr. 1, appear to have circulated within royal and aristocratic households.
Horden, âWhatâs Wrong with Early Medieval Medicine?â, 12â13.
Horden, âWhatâs Wrong with Early Medieval Medicine?â, 12; Horden, âPrefatory Noteâ.
Horden, âWhatâs Wrong with Early Medieval Medicine?â, 13.
Ibid.
Horden, âSickness and Healingâ, 96: âother, lesser, texts often degenerate into unintelligibility through repeated copyingâ.
On the numbers of surviving manuscripts, see Beccaria, I codici and Wickersheimer, Les manuscrits; the former includes 158 manuscripts produced between the ninth and eleventh centuries while the latter, which only focuses on manuscripts held in French collections, gives 119 manuscripts for the same period. As noted in Chapter 1, the cemlm has identified roughly 200 manuscripts missed by Beccaria and Wickersheimer.
Leja, Embodying the Soul, 12.
On the links between medicine and calendars, see Wallis, âMedicine in Medieval Calendar Manuscriptsâ and Faith Wallis, âCounting All the Bones: Measure, Number and Weight in Early Medieval Texts About the Bodyâ, in Was zählt Ordnungsangebote, Gebrauchsformen und Erfahrungsmodalitäten des ânumerusâ im Mittelalter, ed. Moritz Wedell (Cologne: Böhlau, 2012), 185â208.
For examples of non-medical manuscripts to which recipes have been added, see, for example, Cambridge, Corpus Christi College, ms 223, a ninth-century codex containing a variety of non-medical texts, such as works by Prudentius, with recipes added to its opening flyleaf, or Laon, Bibliothèque Municipale, ms 199, a ninth-century codex covering the Lateran Council of 649 in which a recipe has been added to the final half folio.
For a full breakdown of the genres of medical writing and number of texts associated with each during this period, see Wallis, âThe Experience of the Bookâ, 112, n. 30.
For particularly insightful syntheses of early medieval medicine in relation to the manuscript evidence, see Wallis, âThe Experience of the Bookâ (quotation at p. 107) and Horden, âWhatâs Wrong with Early Medieval Medicine?â, though these themes are also addressed in their other work; see the bibliography for more examples.
Wallis, âThe Experience of the Bookâ, 103â4.
Wallis, âThe Experience of the Bookâ.
Horden, âWhatâs Wrong with Early Medieval Medicine?â, 19. For examples of the identification of individual extracts and transmission of earlier sources within early medieval recipe collections, see the work of Arsenio Ferraces RodrÃguez and Klaus-Dietrich Fischer highlighted in Chapter 1.
Ferraces RodrÃguez, âUn recetario médico altomedievalâ, 41.
Alain Touwaide, âPharmaceutic Handbooksâ, in Medieval Science, Technology and Medicine: An Encyclopedia, ed. Thomas Glick, Steven J. Livesey, and Faith Wallis (London: Routledge, 2005), 393â4; Alain Touwaide, âPharmacy and Materia medicaâ, in Medieval Science, Technology and Medicine: An Encyclopedia, ed. Thomas Glick, Steven J. Livesey, and Faith Wallis (London: Routledge, 2005), 397â9.
Laurence M. V. Totelin, âMithridatesâ AntidoteâA Pharmacological Ghostâ. Early Science and Medicine 9, no. 1 (2004): 1â19; Philip Wexler, ed., Toxicology in Antiquity, 2nd ed. (London: Academic Press, 2019).
For more on the genre of herbals, see, for example, the collected essays of Jerry Stannard and John Riddle: Stannard, Pristina Medicamenta; Stannard, Herbs and Herbalism in the Middle Ages and Renaissance; and Riddle, Quid pro quo. On the illustrated traditions specifically, see Collins, Medieval Herbals.
Dioscorides, Pedanii Dioscuridis Anazarbei De materia medica libri quinque, ed. Max Wellmann, 3 vols. (Berlin: Weidmann, 1906â14); for an English translation, see Dioscorides, De materia medica, trans. Lily Y. Beck (Hildesheim: Olms-Weidmann, 2005). On Dioscoridesâ reception, see John M. Riddle, Dioscorides on Pharmacy and Medicine (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1985); Riddle, âPseudo-Dioscoridesâ Ex herbis femininisâ, 43â81; Alain Touwaide, âDioscoridesâ, in Medieval Science, Technology and Medicine: An Encyclopedia, ed. Thomas Glick, Steven J. Livesey, and Faith Wallis (London: Routledge, 2005), 152â4.
Beccaria, I codici; Wickersheimer, Les manuscrits.
Gerhard Baader, âDie Anfänge der medizinischen Ausbildung im Abendland bis 1100â, in La scuola nellâOccidente latino dellâalto medioevo, 15â21 aprile 1971, Settimane 19, vol. 2 (Spoleto: Fondazione Centro italiano di studi sullâalto medioevo, 1972), 669â772. Voigts, âThe Significance of the Name Apuleiusâ, 215; Riddle, âPseudo-Dioscoridesâ Ex herbis femininisâ, 43â81. Ernst Howald and Henry Sigerist produced a cml volume (4) featuring many of these texts: Antonii Musae De herba vettonica liber. Pseudoapulei Herbarius. Anonymi De taxone liber. Sextii Placiti Liber medicinae ex animalibus etc.
Baader, âDie Anfange der medizinischen Ausbildungâ. On Ravennaâs medical school, see n. 44 above. On translation at Ravenna, see also Innocenzo Mazzini, âLes traductions latines dâOribase et dâHippocrateâ, in Les écoles médicales à Rome: Actes du 2ème Colloque international sur les textes médicaux latins antiques, Lausanne, septembre 1986, ed. Philippe Mudry and Jackie Pigeaud (Geneva: Droz, 1991), 286â93.
For Isidoreâs discussion of medical books, see Isidore, Etymologiae, 4.10.1â4. On dynamidia, see Arsenio Ferraces RodrÃguez, âEl Pseudo-Dioscórides De herbis femininis, los Dynamidia e Isidoro de Sevilla, Etym. xvii, 7â11â, in Tradición e Innovación de la Medicina Latina de la Antigüedad y de la Alta Edad Media: Actas del iv Coloquio Internacional sobre los âtextos medicos latinos antiguosâ, ed. Manuel Enrique Vázquez Buján (Santiago de Compostela: Servicio de Publicacións e Intercambio CientÃfico da Universidade de Santiago de Compostela, 1994), 183â203; John M. Riddle, âThe Pseudo-Hippocratic Dynamidiaâ, Sudhoffs Archiv für Geschichte der Medizin und der Naturwissenschaften 27 (1989): 283â311; and Loren C. MacKinney, ââDynamidiaâ in Medieval Medical Literatureâ, Isis 24, no. 2 (1936): 400â14.
Touwaide, âPharmaceutic Handbooksâ, 393â4. For work on specific antidote traditions, see, for example, Fischer, âAntidotum cui nomen est acharistumâ and Fischer, âDie Antidotos des Zopyros und andere Fundstücke zu Scribonius Largusâ, in Body, Disease and Treatment in a Changing World: Latin Texts and Contexts in Ancient and Medieval Medicine. Proceedings of the Ninth International Conference âAncient Latin Medical Textsâ, Hulme Hall, University of Manchester, 5â8 September 2007, ed. David Langslow and Brigitte Maire (Lausanne: Ãditions bhms, 2010), 147-60.
Touwaide, âPharmaceutic Handbooksâ, 393. See also Isidore, Etymologiae, 4.9.8â11 for a list of different types of preparations.
Pliny the Elder, Natural History, trans. Harris Rackham, William Henry Samuel Jones, and D. E. Eichholz. 10 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1938â63).
Plinii Secundi Iunioris qui feruntur De medicina libri tres, ed. Ãnnerfors; The Medicina Plinii: Latin Text, Translation, and Commentary, trans. Yvette Hunt (Abingdon: Routledge, 2020); Physica Plinii Bambergensis (Cod. Bamb. med. 2, fol. 93v-232r), ed. Alf Ãnnerfors (Hildesheim: Olms, 1975); Aude Doody, âAuthority and Authorship in the Medicina Pliniiâ, in Authorial Voices in Greco-Roman Technical Writing, ed. Liba Taub and Aude Doody (Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag, 2009), 93â105; Aude Doody, Plinyâs Encyclopedia: The Reception of the Natural History (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010).
Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 299â308.
Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 300; Stannard, âMarcellus of Bordeauxâ, 47â53; Glaze, âThe Perforated Wallâ, 18â46.
Owsei Temkin, The Double Face of Janus and Other Essays in the History of Medicine (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1977), 202.
Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 302.
Marcellus, De medicamentis liber, ed. Liechtenhan and Niedermann, trans. Kollesch and Nickel; Stannard, âMarcellus of Bordeauxâ; Doody, Plinyâs Encyclopedia, 138.
Horden, âSickness and Healingâ, 94â6; Nutton, Ancient Medicine, 303. On Christian elements, see Burridge, âHealing Body and Soulâ; on previously unrecorded ingredients, see Chapters 3 and 4.
It must be remembered, however, that in cases where an organisational principle seems to be lacking, it remains possible that the compilersâ strategy is simply unclear to modern readers and that it followed a logical system that was recognised within the environment in which the text was produced.
On the less uniform grouping of treatments, see, for example, Paris, BnF lat. 11218: although it does not follow the a capite ad calcem pattern consistently, many types of similar treatments are located in clusters, such as a notably gynaecological section on ff. 108râ109r that contains thirty-four recipes entirely related to menstruation, conception, childbirth, etc. Several folia later, there is a section that could be described as an antidotaria as it contains mostly antidotes and complex, composite prescriptions (ff. 113vâ118v).
Extensive collections in codd. sang. 44, 751, 759, and Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana (hereafter bav) pal. lat. 1088, for instance, are all preceded by contents lists. A list also survives in BnF lat. 6882A, though the collection itself has been lost. With the exception of bav pal. lat. 1088, where a duplication error in the list has confused the numbering, the contents lists and collections are usually near perfect matches.
Beccaria, I codici; Wickersheimer, Les manuscrits.
For a definition of the word, see the entry for âremedy, n.â, in oed Online, last modified December 2023, last accessed 10 March 2024,
Claire Burridge, âIncense in Medicine: An Early Medieval Perspectiveâ, Early Medieval Europe 28, no. 2 (2020): 219â55,
For a more detailed review of the twenty-four manuscripts, see Appendix 1.
Beccaria, I codici; Wickersheimer, Les manuscrits.
For more specific information and references regarding these manuscripts and those described below, see Appendix 1.
On the movement of manuscripts and links between writing centres, including a number of those featured in this review, see Bernhard Bischoff, Manuscripts and Libraries in the Age of Charlemagne, trans. Michael M. Gorman (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2007), 33, 122, and 147â8.
Leja, âThe Sacred Artâ, 4; Beccaria, I codici; Wickersheimer, Les manuscrits.