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Creeping into Homes 203
of Ovid’s Metamorphoses rather than a medical source.26 However, palsy or paralysis (B.5.77) was usually dened medically by loss of movement or feeling in one-half of the body or in a particular limb (sometimes, but less frequently, it can mean a visible tremor in the limbs or face, rather more like modern palsy). Paralysis of the tongue accounted for inability to speak. Paralysis was usually attributed in medical texts to viscous humours clogging up or obstructing the exercise of the vegetative, sensitive or rational powers. e miracle at Capernaum in which Christ heals the paralytic man and tells him, ‘Son, your sins are forgiven’27 might well be at the forefront of Langland’s mind here. Envye’s paralysis is to be understood allegorically as an inability to seek forgiveness by confession (he does of course ‘confess’ this inability – paradoxically, since true repentance would mean his hypocritical personication would no longer exist).28 Envy and ill will are hard to digest, and this accounts for Envye’s inability to eat as other men: ‘I myghte noght eat many yeres as a man oughte’ (B.5.119). is metaphor is based medically on an impairment of the rst digestion, that in the stomach. Pearsall’s edition of the C text, which carries over the lines from B about failure to digest, suggests that allegorically the inability to eat as other men amounts to ‘a kind of moral constipation, which prevents him from taking communion properly’.
29
In the C version the cause of the swelling which made Envy wrathful is
located explicitly in the heart:
May no surge ne swete thinge aswage my swellynge Ne derworth drynke dryue hit fro my herte (C.6.88–9)
Envye’s confession in C makes a connexion never made explicit in the B version between the swelling caused by gall (B.5.83) and the heart ailments which plague Haukyn the Actif Man (B.13.330–1, 334–42). Envye, we are told, is gnawed within as if by a tailor’s shears (C.6.75), and this seems to recall the eects of overproduction of bile as in the B version, although in B there is no mention of acute pain. But the cause of this self-inicted condition is in C attributed to black bile, rather than red choler, and this melancholy overcomes him when he fails to gain the upper hand over others (C.6.78, B.13.334). But the medical consequences of this excess of melancholy are quite dierent from those mentioned in B.5:
26
As suggested by e Vision of William Concerning Piers the Plowman in ree Parallel
Texts, ed. W. W. Skeat, 2 vols. (Oxford, 1886), I, p. 105, referring to Ovid Metamor- phoses bk ii, l.775: Pallor in ore sedet; macies in corpore toto.
27
Matthew 9. 1–8; Mark 2. 1–12; and Luke 5. 17–26.
28
Zeeman, Disruption, p. 315.
29
Piers Plowman, ed. Pearsall, p. 124, commenting on C.6.86–7.
204 The Medicine of the Friars in Medieval England
And whan I may noght have the maistrie, swich malencolie I take
at I cacch the crampe, the cardiacle som tyme,
Or an ague in swich an angre, and som tyme a fevere (B.13.334–6)
Firstly, there is a cramp (‘the Crompe’ in C), a violent and involuntary contraction of the sinews, usually a consequence of the brain being troubled by noisome humours (presumably in this case melancholy). Secondly, sometimes Envye is aicted by cardiacle, which is pain and/or palpitation or tremor in the heart, the cause being a complexion unbalanced by the excess of melancholy.30 e next line introduces two more consequences: ague and fever.
Ague is dened as an acute fever of sudden onset and often great violence. A quartan ague (attacking every third day) is one specically attributed to the humour melancholy putrefying. is may be what Langland has in mind here. A distinct second kind of fever is mentioned too. Fever tout court is simply dened as an unnatural heat of the body and if it lasted a year, as Envye says here, it should be reckoned a continuous fever. ese are usually attributed to humours putrefying inside blood vessels. e humour choler putrefying in blood vessels other than those of major organs (stomach, heart, liver, lungs) was thought to cause continuous tertian (that is an attack every second day) fever. All these eects on Envye’s health can be related back to the excess of melancholy by a reader with as good a grasp of practical medicine as that of Langland.
31
Envye’s confession also embraces the remedies he has tried for his condition (both the illnesses of B and C) and his experience of physic of dierent kinds. Envye asks if the swelling of the heart caused by his gall­bladder illness (B.5.121) might be treated by contraries, that is to say to try sugar and sweet things to assuage the bitterness of the gall.32 He also raises the question of trying diapenidion, a compound prepared by apothecaries and bought ‘across the counter’. It is an electuary (a paste mixed with honey or syrup) containing barley sugar (sugar boiled in decoction of barley). It is therefore also sweet but classed ocially as a remedy whose quality is cold. In medical sources, diapenidion is usually prescribed as a treatment for a cough or lung complaints.33 Envye hopes that this remedy might drive swelling from his heart, probably because he knows that things that work on the lungs will also work on the heart, as is assumed in medical practica texts like those of Bernard de Gordon and John Gaddesden. ese treatments are all credible
30
Norri, Dictionary, s.v. Cramp, Cardiacle.
31
Norri, Dictionary, s.v. Ague, Fever.
32
Hanna, Penn Commentary, p. 99. Following Skeat’s commentary Hanna draws at-
tention to the interrogatory character of these lines.
33
Norri, Dictionary, s.v. Diapenidion.
Creeping into Homes 205
responses to Envye’s condition in B, judging by the prescriptions formulated in practical medicine texts. Envye also asks about spiritual remedies – would shrift or shame work? Finally he asks, failing all else, must someone scrape out my maw (‘whoso shrape my mawe?’ B.5.123). One medical meaning of maw suggests this would involve scouring the internal cavity where organs like the liver, gall-bladder and stomach are, rather than the stomach alone. But it is
34
more likely that this means scraping out the mouth.
is is still a drastic measure, but such a desperate solution demonstrates Envye’s despair of a cure. Only true contrition and God’s mercy could salve his soul (and thus his body too) as his confessor Repentaunce tells Envye in response (B.5.124–5).
e C version includes the lines taken from B where Envye asks about possible remedies for Envye’s internal condition (C.6.87–90), though substituting a ‘derworth drink’ for diapenidion. e drink is quite possibly intended as a reference to the precious waters made by distillation that had become so fashionable in the fourteenth century as cure-alls, possibly even to the quintessence made by multiple distillations of wine.35 e eect is to keep up with medical fashion, but also to suggest a remedy that would pack more of a punch than diapenidion, and one that works not by contrary (sweet vs bitter) but by its specic form. Yet the most striking innovation of C is to take over from the Haukyn the Actif Man passage in B.13. 330–1, 334–42 the ‘alternative’ to physic, or indeed to the ‘Lechecraft of oure lord’.36 at is to say, in the C version (and in the Haukyn passage in B.13), Envye turns to a witch or a cobbler of Southwark who peddles charms, instead of to physic (C.6.81–5). Charms for fevers are commonly found in remedy books and even in authoritative texts like those by Gilbertus Anglicus, John Gaddesden or the surgery of John Arderne.37 ey came under the condemnation of the Church only when they were used by empirics, as by the witch at Shoreditch, Dame Emma, or by the cobbler of Southwark (B.13.340), not when they were
34
K. L. Walter, Middle English Mouths: Late Medieval Medical, Religious and Literary
Traditions (Cambridge, 2018), pp. 168–9, argues that what is meant here is a scrap-
ing out of the mouth (maw), a surgical procedure often used to treat dental and
mouth complaints, as Envye sins by use of insults and backbiting directed at others.
It is certainly true that scraping out the interior of the body would exceed the am-
bitions of a contemporary surgeon. See Norri, Dictionary, s.v. Maw, for surgery on
the guts.
35
See Chapter 4 on distillation and quintessence.
36
is is commonly assumed to mean spiritual medicine as opposed to physic. But
it could mean Lechecraft (medicine) from our Lord, i.e. medicines given by God
through nature to man for his relief.
37
See L. T. Olsan, ‘Charms and Prayers in Medieval Medical eory and Practice’,
Social History of Medicine 16 (2003), 343–66.
206 The Medicine of the Friars in Medieval England
prescribed by medical authority. Giving, as it were, the names and addresses of these empirics suggests that Langland may have had real individuals in mind. At the least, he wished to draw attention to the role of charms in healing. Envye reports ‘But thorw a charme hadde Y chaunce and my chef hele’ (C.6.85), which suggests he had more faith in the powers of these empirics to give relief than in rational medicine or penitence.
e detailed analysis of sicknesses and cures presented in Langland’s discussion of Envye’s confession reveals a thorough acquaintance with the discussion of practical medicine by the authors on this subject best known in late medieval England. In the later C version of the text, Langland modied his interpretation of Envye’s illness to incorporate a new range of signs, implicating the humour melancholy and the heart as its associated organ, which in the B version had been used to characterise Haukyn the Actif Man. ese additions do not replace the earlier diagnosis featuring choler and the gall-bladder but oer an alternative in the C version. As a Sad Vice, Envye suers these complex ailments in his body as well as personifying one of the deadly sins. As a friar who is also a confessor it turns out that the healer is himself in desperate need of healing.
e friar as failed healer
In the nal passus of Piers Plowman, Langland gives the friars a central role as potential salvers or healers of the English church. Immediately before the friars are summoned by Conscience to the church’s defence in this passus, the dreamer has seen Kynde (Nature personied) unleash a horrifying ood of diseases on humanity through the inuence of the planets:
…feveres and uxes,
Coughes and cardiacles, crampes and toothaches
Rewmes and radegundes and roynouse Scalles
Biles and bocches and brennyng agues,
Frenesies and foule yveles …
38
Presumably, Langland is here reminding his readers of the scourge of the Black Death as well as the specicity of human illnesses, delivered in the form of an alliterative serial catalogue.39 Most of those exposed to illness are
38
B.20.81–5. Quoted in R. Gasse, ‘e Practice of Medicine in “Piers Plowman’”, e
Chaucer Review 39 (2004), 177–97 (p. 178).
39
ey are the ‘foragers’ of Nature, and perhaps harbingers of terrifying outcomes
like age and death (as suggested to me by an anonymous referee). See Barney, Penn
Commentary, p. 210.
Creeping into Homes 207
killed by this onslaught; the survivors are seized by panic and, pursuing bodily relief, pay the character of Physic great sums for a useless cure (C.22.169–74). However, Physic himself is aicted with paralysis by Elde (old age) and dies within three days.40 e narrator Wille, in a sidebar passage, is aected with all the ills of old age by Elde, losing his hair and his sexual potency. He is ready to embrace death, but Kynde suggests that this state of bodily depletion and extreme incapacity might be redeemed by his taking the opportunity to learn love or charity, and that his bodily wants will somehow be taken care of in this case. e signicance of this passage lies in the way in which the bodily disposition which comes with old age may aect the passions. Langland’s insight is informed by the medical doctrine which gives bodily complexions, and the drying out of the body’s radical moisture, controlling inuence over the passions – an insight held in tension with Langland’s volitional ethics of salvation.41 With this hope armed, Kynde advises the narrator (and all) to take refuge in the barn or castle of Unite, where Conscience calls on Clergy to come to their aid in resisting the siege of Antichrist and the seven deadly sins.
e friars heed this call to help but most are seduced by Envy into pursuing learning in the schools (as we saw in the previous section), rather than giving succour to the wounded. Conscience then calls on a ‘leche’ (healer) to treat the wounds of sin, which he does with a sharp salve. But some then ask for softer treatments from a physician and surgeon, who turns out to be Friar Flatterer. He presents himself at the gate of Unite, where the gatekeeper Peace asks his name. e friar is identied by his companion (‘felawe’ or socius) as Sire Penetrans Domos (creeping into homes), and Peace at rst refuses him entrance, recalling that she had met the friar while he was acting as a healer at court:
…at a court there I dwelde,
And was my lordes leche – and my ladies bothe.
And at the laste this lymytour, tho my lord was oute,
He salvede so oure wommen til some were with childe (B.20.345–8)
40
B. 20.176–7. John Trevisa’s 1398 translation of Bartholomaeus Anglicus, De propri-
etatibus rerum describes the eect of universal paralysis on the old in these terms:
Vniuersele palsye in alle men & namliche in olde men is vnnes curable, i.e. hardly
curable. Quoted in Middle English Dictionary, s.v Palesi.
41
Barney, Penn Commentary, p. 211, points to the way in which the bodily aictions
of old age may yield an escape from some kinds of sin (i.e. lust) and opportunity for
spiritual development. is argument is further developed in Zeeman, Disruption,
chap. 7 ‘Natural Entropy and Piers Plowman’. On age and radical moisture or ‘nat-
ural humiditye’, see, for example, Everest, ‘On Tarrying’, pp. 133–247.
Fig. . e friar ‘Sire Penetrans-domos’, from William Langland, Piers Plowman.
Oxford, Bodleian Library, MS Douce , fol. v. Ireland, . He holds up a urine
glass with blue-grey contents. Above it the word ‘ypocrysy’ is prominent in the text.
Creeping into Homes 209
us all the tropes of sexual exploitation implicit in his name are borne out by the friar’s previous actions as reported by Peace. Despite this, Hende-Speche (good manners) prevails over Peace’s objections and the friar is admitted, since he has a letter from a lord and a bishop’s licence.42 Conscience asks him to treat Contricion, who is suering from the painful dressings to his wounds: Sire Penetrans Domos begins by ‘groping’ Contrition (B.20.364)43 and then gives him a (lenitive) plaster and prays for him, in return for payment of ‘a little silver’. e eect is to make Contrition forget to be contrite, so that his plaster or penance has the opposite eect to that it should. As Peace says
e frere with his phisyk this folk hath enchaunted
And plastred hem so esily [hii] dred no synne! (B.20.379–80)
Or in the C version:
e frere with his syk this folk hath enchaunted
And doth men drynke dwale, that they drat no synne (C.22.368–9)
‘Dwale’ is a drink that makes the patient insensible of pain, often used by surgeons.
44
Immediately after these lines Conscience abandons the defence of
Unite and sets o as a pilgrim to look for Piers Plowman:
To seken Piers the Plowman, that Pryde myghte destruye,
And that freres hadde a fyndyng, that for nede atteren’ (B 20.383–4)
Conscience’s nal objective is to bring it about that friars have provision of necessaries, so that they do not atter out of need. With an invocation of the help of the Trinity in this quest, the poem ends.
As Rosanne Gasse has observed, Langland does not simply employ medical metaphors to convey a spiritual crisis in the Church and the corruption of the salvic power of true penitence.45 ere is no clear boundary between salving the soul and the body set by Langland in Piers Plowman. Langland deals in
42
Hanna and Wood, ‘Mendicants’, pp. 226–8. Like Bel Accueil (Fair Welcome) in
Roman de la Rose, Hende-Speche is not as aware as he should be of the threat posed
here.
43
For Friar John’s similar ‘groping’, see above p. 197. Walter, Mouths, pp. 36–40
characterises ‘groping’ as touch, immediate and earthy, and foundational, but also
spiritual, following Bartholomaeus Anglicus, De proprietatibus rerum. See also C.
Burnett, ‘e Superiority of Taste’, Journal of Warburg and Courtauld Institutes 54
(1991), 230–8.
44
L. E. Voigts and R. P. Hudson, ‘A drynke þat men callen dwale to make a man to
slepe whyle men kerven him’, in Health, Disease and Healing in Medieval Culture,
ed. S. Campbell, B. Hall and D. Klausner (London, 1992), pp. 34–56.
45
Gasse, ‘Practice’, pp. 177–8.
210 The Medicine of the Friars in Medieval England
terms of a body-soul composite that is characteristic of the human (not a binary division of material vs immaterial), and each part of the composite considered singly directly aects the other.46 e medical detail in the poem about ailments, wounds, salves and plasters is extraordinary in its quantity and its specicity, and the friar is identied as both physician and surgeon (B.20.316). In the only illustrated copy of Piers Plowman (Bodl., MS Douce 104, dated to 1427), the nal image on fol. 111v is of the friar, dressed in a brown habit and holding up an urine glass, in the standard posture for a physician.47 e urine glass is in the margin next to the line ‘Y am a surgien’, said the frere, ‘and salves can make’ (C.22.336). e urine in the glass is clearly dark blue in colour, that is to say ‘kyanos’ in terms of the standard twenty colours (like a good dark wine, as it is usually captioned). is colour may indicate ‘a goute, a crampe in the veyne of the hert, [or] a postume in the stomach’.
48
e sacraments of baptism, penance and Eucharist administered by the priesthood (including the friars) are believed in Langland’s poem to have direct eects on the health of the body as well as the soul. A good conscience is clearly established as the basis of good health overall. Judged by these standards, Sire Penetrans Domos turns out to be a poor healer, as well as a poor confessor, undone by his mercenary peddling of remedies which are too easy on the patient.49 But the secular physician to whom the people turn after they are aicted with all the illnesses that Kynde (Nature) sends through the agency of the planets is given no credit by Langland either. His reliance on his medicines is just as mercenary as that of the friar, and, as a layman without resort to the sacraments, he fails to attend to the soul’s wounds, and so he cannot heal the bodies of his patients. e secular physician’s own nal paralysis or palsy brought on by Elde (old age) is both a visitation on his presumption as a healer and a damning verdict on the impotence of a purely
46
Walter, Mouths, p. 41.
47
Piers Plowman: A Facsimile of Bodleian Library, Oxford, MS Douce 104, ed. D. Pears-
all and K. L. Scott (Cambridge, 1992); K. L. Scott, ‘e Illustrations of Piers Plow-
man in Bodleian Library MS Douce 104’, Yearbook of Langland Studies 4 (1990),
1–86; K. Kerby-Fulton and D. L. Despres, Iconography and the Professional Reader:
e Politics of Book Production in the Douce Piers Plowman (Minneapolis, 1999).
48
Piers Plowman, ed. Pearsall and Scott, p. lxxx. e caption supplied is from the
uroscopy diagram in BL, MS Sloane 7, fol. 59r.
49
Received medical wisdom was that, as the surgeon John Arderne put it, ‘Paynful
things passeþ sone when at the next followeþ glorious helthe’, i.e. no gain with-
out pain: Treatises of Fistula in Ano, Haemorrhoids, and Clysters; From an Early
Fifteenth Century Manuscript Translation, ed. D’A. Power, EETS OS 139 (Lon-
don, 1910), p. 22.
Creeping into Homes 211
secular kind of healing. Expensive drugs and ointments alone have no power to stave o Elde or Death.
Langland’s nal image of Sire Penetrans Domos as the attering healer and surgeon who gains entry to the barn of Unite, and corrupts instead of heals the gathered church within, is exceptionally dark and threatens the future of the ‘Constantinian church’ in England.50 It is all the more potent for being placed at the climax of this long dialectical poem. Yet it is also signicant that Langland could envisage the gure of the friar as a potential source of healing, spiritual and physical, in the rst place. One interpretation of the poem has insisted that Langland’s object is to call the Franciscan order to reform and to reassert a vision of true Christian poverty without exertion of authority or dominium. It is a reminder of the urgency of the pursuit of apostolic perfection.51 Without going so far as this, we can recognise that the failure of Friar Flatterer to save the beleaguered English church in Piers Plowman is also an acknowledgement of potential. Langland thought that the mendicants were the last best hope of salvation and healing for the gathered church if they could somehow get ‘a fyndyng’ that would relieve them of the need to atter.
After Piers Plowman
By the second half of the fourteenth century, the friars were very much a part of the clerical landscape in England. eir convents were prominent buildings in towns – and sometimes the focus of negative comment for their magnicence. Despite the ravages of the Black Death, the numbers of friars recovered quite quickly, even if the age of continuous expansion was over. e friars were not begging for their bread any longer, so much as seeking to attract the donations and bequests of lay citizens. ese citizens wanted them to act as confessors, or to grant lay fraternity, or to allow burial within the precincts of a convent or to say masses for the souls of the dead. It is not surprising that regular monastics and parish clergy resented the competition for lay patronage, though there were also many examples of collaboration and friendliness between friars and other clergy, as well as rivalry.52 Anti-
50
For the Constantinian church, see Aers, Beyond Reformation?.
51
L. M. Clopper, ‘Songes of Rechelesnesse’: Langland and the Franciscans (Ann Arbor,
1997). See, however, the critique of this view in D. Aers, Sanctifying Signs: Making
Christian Tradition in Late Medieval England (Notre Dame, 2004), chap. 5, ‘e
Sign of Poverty’.
52
A. L. Williams, ‘Relations between the Mendicant Friars and the Regular Clergy
in England in the Later Fourteenth Century’, Annuale Medievale 1 (1960), 22–95;
R. N. Swanson, ‘e ‘Mendicant Problem’ in the Later Middle Ages’, Studies in
212 The Medicine of the Friars in Medieval England
fraternalism gained purchase in England in a way which focussed less on issues of ecclesiology or conicts over rights and privileges than on the failure of friars to live up to their professed ideals, and on exploitation of access to the homes of those who sought confessors and healers.
Implicit in the representations of friars in literary works and popular songs alike is ‘Physician, heal thyself ’ or as the Vulgate puts it: Medice, cura te ipsum (Luke 4:23). e friar must confess his own sins before he hears the confession of others, and must take his own medicine before he ministers to lay folk. As we have seen, this imperative is not simply a matter of slipping into metaphorical medical language. e connection between body and soul was an active two-way ow, whereby health and salvation, sickness and sin, were mutually causative. William Langland in Piers Plowman used allegory to articulate these issues in a highly sophisticated way, both at the level of the individual and at the level of the gathered English church. e gure of the friar was central to Langland’s poem because he was emblematic of sickness and healing, sin and salvation, at both levels. e hypocrisy attending friars who did not live up to their vocation, but called on others to repent, who pretended to heal but prescribed only medicines that indulged the weaknesses of their patients, is at the heart of Piers Plowman.
53
Poems and prose written in what has been called ‘the Langland tradition’, referencing the character of Piers Plowman, do not attempt to explore these issues of healing and salvation with comparable subtlety. ey are mostly anti-fraternal satires, using Piers or a similar gure as spokesman: Piers the
Ploughman’s Crede and Jack Upland are the best-known examples. In Piers the Ploughman’s Crede, each mendicant order attacks the others in turn. e
corruption of friar confessors indulging lords and ladies who can pay well is one of the questions posed by Jack Upland:
What power have ye to asoile lordis and ladies that ye ben confessouris
to ofsynnes that thei leven not, as pilinge of her tenauntis and lyvinge in
leccherie and glotonye and othere heed synnes, of whiche thei cecen not but
ben counfortid bi youre suraunce? (ll. 307–10)
Church History. Subsidia 11 (1999), 217–38; J. Greatrex, ‘Monks and Mendicants in
English Cathedral Cities: Signs of a Mutual Benet Society?’, in e Friar in Me-
dieval Britain: Proceedings of the 2007 Harlaxton Symposium, ed. N. Rogers (Don-
ington, 2010), pp. 97–106; more generally, W. A. Pantin, e English Church in the
Fourteenth Century (Cambridge, 1955) has still not been replaced.
53
Hypocrisy of the friars is explored by Zeeman, Arts of Disruption, pp. 112–17.
54
Six Ecclesiastical Satires, ed. J. M. Dean (Kalamazoo, 1992).
54