Cultures of Knowledge: An Intellectual Geography of the Seventeenth-Century Republic of Letters

Part of my work on the Bodleian card catalogue involves identifying people mentioned in the abstracts and when two friars, going by the names of ‘Joan: Mario, and Julio Cesare’, appeared on my screen in a letter dated 14 February 1614, the temptation to find out who they were proved too great to resist; little did I realise that one small card would have such a tale to tell.

Besides these names, the only information from which to launch my search was that they appeared to have been in England in 1614 when John King (Bishop of London from 1611 to his death in 1621) was writing, possibly to Thomas James, the first librarian of Thomas Bodley’s collection (the Bodleian manuscript is in James’s hand), with the information that the duo had ‘proved themselves false’, that the ‘former has escaped & the latter has given a very equivocating answer when examined before the Archbishop and other Bishopes’.

From an online search, Giulio Cesare Vanini, also known as Lucilio, a Carmelite friar, born c.1585 in southern Italy, emerged. An entry for him at the Galileo Project describes ‘a charismatic character and wherever he went he collected patrons like flies around honey’ including none other than Dudley Carleton, English ambassador in Venice from 1610-15, whom, apparently, he charmed ‘right out of his shoes’. A Carmelite, Vanini had moved from Naples to Padua where his Venetian sympathies incurred papal disapproval and, in consequence, he was granted asylum in England, where he renounced his Catholic faith and was taken in by George Abbot, archbishop of Canterbury. Nowhere in this account, however, was a ‘Joan: Mario’ mentioned. Googling every conceivable variation of name with a selection of dates, I picked up a link to an article of 1895 in The English Historical Review. And here was Giovanni Maria, fellow Carmelite and travelling companion of Vanini; the two appear to have met at Padua.

Having converted and renounced Catholicism, the friars hoped for advancement and when this did not materialise (the article by Richard Copley Christie continues to quote John Chamberlain relaying to Carleton that Vanini was unhappy as he was ‘fain to make his own bed and sweep his chamber, things he was never put to in the place whence he came’; whilst Giovanni Maria, who was at this point lodging with the archbishop of York, Tobie Matthew, complained that he was used to living ‘not in cities not towns but in villa, and thereupon subscribed his name Johannes in Deserto’) made overtures back to Rome. In February 1614, Giovanni Maria escaped from a window in the house where he had been placed by Abbot, climbing down a rope fashioned from sheets. Vanini was imprisoned post-haste in the Lambeth Gatehouse, and there was talk of banishing him ‘into the Barmudas there to dig for his living’. Yet he too contrived to escape and crossed the channel. Bermuda might have proved a happier destination, for he met his end at the stake (having first had his tongue cut out) in Toulouse in 1619. Of Giovanni Maria, who seems to have been spirited abroad by the Spanish ambassador, no more is heard… and John King moves on to the Index Expurgatorius.

Letters in Focus with Miranda Lewis

Miranda is editing metadata from the Bodleian card catalogue of correspondence for our union catalogue, Early Modern Letters Online. Each week, she brings us hand-picked and contextualised records.

Launch Record of the Week

Since its arrival from the New World and a serendipitous combination with milk and sugar the cacao bean has held European taste-buds in its thrall, and those who craved ‘a fix’ during the Lenten fast might empathise with Andreas Colvius who wrote to Isaac Vossius in 1643 with a request to salute the Spaniards and ‘ask for a description of chocolate’ together with ‘a capsule of it’.

A commodity from the outset – its shipment and delivery by carrier would have been awaited with impatience – and, as addictive then as now, chocolate was what Heinsius pleaded with Graevius to remember, and its price was of particular interest to the early modern consumer: in addition to an enclosed ‘packet of Chocolate’, in 1712 Sir Philip Sydenham considered it worth passing on to the master of University College, Arthur Charlett, that what he could buy in ‘Oxford for 4/-’ was ‘2/6 better’ in Bath.

Cherry-picking letters in EMLO as indolently as truffles, I’ve encountered a physician indulge his son as he slips treats into books and sends with pamphlets ‘three pounds of the best chocolate he ever made using double refined sugar’, and reading of the drink prescribed to Thomas Brett as part of a beneficial diet (‘chocolate, no tea, coffee is the devil’), and of Brett himself hoping to host Lady Cotton with the delicacy. The year before his death, Savilian professor of Astronomy Edward Bernard considered chocolate ‘with chicken broth’ (itself a well-known restorative) to be his ‘greatest diet’, whilst a doting niece sent a treat to her uncle Thomas Turner, president of Corpus Christi, Oxford, together with instructions to ‘make and flavour the drink’. Chocolate ‘without vanillias’ was dispatched in gratitude to botanist Richard Richardson, and Richardson penned a request that cocoa seeds be sought out in Jamaica and brought home.

It was the ubiquitous Hans Sloane who suggested the addition of milk (having considered chocolate too bitter when drunk, as in Jamaica, with water) and, convinced of its beneficial properties, promoted this practice back home. As a beverage, chocolate was swiftly normalised within metropolitan society and a range of consumer behaviours developed around the exotic new product. Individuals began to meet ‘over cups of chocolate’ and chocolate houses proliferated. One such establishment was ‘Mrs White’s’ (forerunner of the esteemed club) and Richard Rawlinson recorded its calamitous destruction by fire in a letter to Thomas Hearne. This fire, emanating from a room named ‘Hell’, burned with such ferocity that the licencee’s wife hurled herself through a window and, as Rawlinson notes, it destroyed a significant portion of Sir Andrew Fountain’s valuable art collection. A century after Sloane’s death, Cadbury Brothers chose to market Sir Hans Sloane’s Milk Chocolate with the following instructions: ‘one Ounce of Chocolate (which is two Squares) to a Pint of boiling Milk, or a pint of Milk and Water; add Sugar and milk as other Chocolate’. Today, I hope, like our early modern forebears, you will take a slab of best-quality chocolate and create a treat to revive purged palates, perhaps whilst savouring a rich assortment of early modern letters.

Letters in Focus with Miranda Lewis

Miranda is editing metadata from the Bodleian card catalogue of correspondence for our union catalogue, Early Modern Letters Online. On a regular basis, she brings us hand-picked and contextualised records.

Indulge

Having stumbled across a discussion, inter alia, of early modern sleep and nocturnal activity in an article on the BBC News website, I found myself deep in EMLO this week on the elusive trail of sleeping patterns and experiences. As you might expect, cacophonous night-time irritants – cockerels, ostlers ‘scraping horses down and removing stones from their hooves’, fellow academics and students discoursing in the small hours – conspired to rob the worthy of their peace at night. We find poor Comenius and Johan Christoph Wolf suffering from insomnia, the latter ‘prostrated’ as a result. Sir John Cotton records being ‘indisposed for want of sleep’, and Narcissus Marsh finds himself so overworked he is rendered ‘unable to stand without help and more fit to sleep than write’. Dutch scholar and poet Nicolaas Heinsius the elder deserves our sympathy. Clearly a poor sleeper, he makes repeated reference to sleeplessness in letters spanning from 1650 to 1680, and the problem seems to have become especially acute towards the end of his life. Had he known of her, he might have envied the unfortunate unnamed woman, the subject of a curious case recorded in 1723, who slept ‘continuously for more than 6 weeks’ (presumably she was in some sort of coma).

Tips and recommendations for more effective slumber abound. To aid sleep, I found remedies of a cowslip mixture prescribed by Sir Hans Sloane to a long-suffering patient, and advice to Arthur Charlett, should he wish to sleep during the day, to indulge himself but to ‘sleep in a chair & not lying down’. The best counsel, however, came from none other than our own Jan Amos Comenius who, in a letter to a young man called Jindřich Dobříkovský, suggested dividing the day, taking eight hours for sleep, eight for work and study, and eight for recreation. All wonderfully wholesome and wise. As late as 1785, John Scott Hylton was writing to the Reverend Mark Noble with rules for ‘healthy living (light supper, bed and asleep by 11: nocturnal studies as bad as nocturnal revels)’. No excuse, then, for either of these gentlemen dropping off in the library.

Letters in Focus with Miranda Lewis

Miranda is editing metadata from the Bodleian card catalogue of correspondence for our union catalogue Early Modern Letters Online. On a regular basis, she brings us hand-picked and contextualised records.

Snooze Button

Much of the seventeenth century was blighted by conflict, and the Thirty Years’ War, which stretched the length and breadth of Europe, affected every aspect of life. The implications for educational institutions and resulting intellectual networks and traditions were wide-ranging, and as such the Bodleian cards refer frequently to the effect of the conflict on universities and those teaching and studying within them. For example, in today’s card – sent on 3 February 1641, when war had been raging for over twenty years – John Christenius (1599-1672) laments the ‘injurious effect’ of the pan-European conflict on ‘the quality of the intake and studies at his university’. The original card compiler speculated that this letter might have been written from Deventer (where Erasmus had been at school a century and a half before, and the economic decline of which was attributed to religious war), and in Dirk van Miert‘s Humanism in an Age of Science: The Amsterdam Athenaeum in the Golden Age, 1632-1704 we read that from 1637 Christenius had indeed held a position at the newly formed Deventer Athenaeum. As students rush their work, emerging ‘unfit for a profession or status’, Christenius suggests to Gerardus Joannes Vossius (1577-1649), professor of history at Amsterdam’s Anthenaeum Illustre, that a teacher capable of inspiring the ‘studiously inclined young men to cultivate their minds towards a more scholarly standard’ be found, recommending the appointment of Hamburg-born Johann Frederick Gronovius (1611-1671). This suggestion met with approval and, following travels in England, France, and Italy, Gronovius was duly appointed professor of rhetoric and history at Deventer, a post he retained until his transfer to Leiden in 1658.

According to other EMLO records, Gronovius was no stranger to the city. In 1631 he was writing from there and, by January 1644, the scholarly situation at the Athenaeum appears to have improved to such an extent under the auspices of its new star professor that Vossius praises the ‘great flow of good works from G’s. university and hopes that this will stimulate the senators of G’s. city, renowned for its academic traditions and as the place where Erasmus studied, to provide further for the dissemination of the university’s world-wide fame through monumental works of genius and learning’. Although he encountered problems – see the complications concerning one particular ‘homicidal maniac’ – Gronovius found his lectures ‘well attended’, and it’s a relief to find a productive pedagogical outcome despite (or perhaps even because of) the persistent maelstrom of war.

Letters in Focus with Miranda Lewis

Miranda is editing metadata from the Bodleian card catalogue of correspondence for our union catalogue, Early Modern Letters Online. On a regular basis, she brings us hand-picked and contextualised records.

Launch Record of the Week

As we thaw out from the February cold snap, for our inaugural Selected Record I thought we should be seasonal and start with our own variant of Old Weather. Using the ‘content’ field in basic search, I entered ‘frost’. My trawl brought up a record for a letter from one John Bennett to the antiquary and diarist Thomas Hearne (1678-1735), an EMLO stalwart responsible for 5,180 records in the catalogue. Bennett, I discovered from thirteen other abstracts in the catalogue, is the son of Sir John Bennett, and in a letter of 14 June 1708 he requests letters to be enclosed ‘to my father Sr. John Bennett, Serjeant att Law, Member of Parliament att his house in Essex Buildings in y e Strand, and then they’l be frank’t at y e Posthouse . . . ’; a quick check in the History of Parliament Online confirms this address. Presumably Bennett junior and Hearne knew each other from Oxford (a quick look in the Alumni Oxonienses confirms they were both at St Edmund Hall). The January in which Bennett wrote to his college friend saw a ‘great frost’ descend across Europe, and this is what he refers to with his tale of snow obstructing streets and unfortunate children meeting their ends in the freezing waters of the Thames. Apparently, the sustained chill was caused by decreased sun spot activity during the Maunder Minimum, which led to the coldest winter for 500 years.

Alongside the harsh winter, Bennett also mentions a variety of people, places, events, and publications, and we are now in the process of capturing these references systematically across all cards using our catalogue’s powerful online editorial interface, EMLO Edit. The Duke of Marlborough, John Churchill – at the head of his army in the Spanish Netherlands over the winter of 1708/9 and midway between the battles of Oudenaarde and Malplaquet – is mentioned en passant, before Bennett turns his attention to more local matters. He speaks of David Gregory (1659-1708), Savilian professor of astronomy at Oxford from 1691 who had died three months previously, and makes an oblique reference to his successor (a quick search on Wikipedia reveals this to be John Caswell, who held office until his death in 1712). A new professor of poetry is mentioned, and he turns out to be another EMLO correspondent, Joseph Trapp (1679-1747) (the first postholder), and Bennett informs us that Henry Sacheverell (1674-1724) was in London during the cold spell and due to preach at St Paul’s. References to publications by Johan Ernest Grabe (1666-1711), the Königsberg-born divine who settled in Oxford and became a chaplain at Christ Church, and by our very own John Selden (1584-1654) are brought into the letter and, almost as an after-thought, Livy, Tully, and Homer are thrown in. This fascinating network of contexts and connections emerge from a single query regarding inclement weather.

Letters in Focus with Miranda Lewis

Miranda is editing metadata from the Bodleian card catalogue of correspondence for our union catalogue, Early Modern Letters Online. On a regular basis, she brings us hand-picked and contextualised records.

Launch Record of the Week