Naval Battle Warnings

While preparing our digital edition of the Quatri Partitu en Cosmographia by Alonso de Chaves, genuine little treasures pop up everywhere. The author’s clear and detailed writing enables a visualization that is nearly as vivid as if we were personally witnessing the described scenarios, or watching a movie on the big screen in a cinema.

This time, the author immerses us in a maritime warfare scenario, explaining how the various crew members of the ships should act and the role each vessel in the fleet should play during the battle. He provides guidance for both offensive and defensive situations, along with instructions on which weapons to employ and when to use them, as well as the positioning of the ships in accordance with various battle scenarios. Towards the end of the chapter, the author offers a particularly intriguing warning:

“special care must be taken whenever a man is wounded on any of the ships in such a way that he cannot fight. Immediately, he should be placed below deck so that he does not obstruct the movement of people from one side to the other. Also, this is to prevent his comrades from seeing him and becoming disheartened or showing weakness. If the wound happens to be mortal or if he is entirely dead, it is better that as soon as he has breathed his last, he is cast into the sea so that one does not lose heart upon seeing others dead, especially when they are relatives and friends. Thus, there should be no severely disabled men or those without weapons and the will to fight on the deck and deckhouse.”

Reading this paragraph gave me the sensation of watching a movie, arriving at the unsettling part where we tend to close our eyes or shield the screen with our hand, all while maintaining a curiosity to see what is unfolding. Such instructions, unwelcome to offer and receive, were highly real, practical and pragmatic, and contributed directly to the overall success of 16th-century maritime journeys and, in this case, naval battles. [Carmo Lacerda]

Bronze Age Shipbuilding

Indian Ocean maritime history goes back a long time. Trade and fishing industries of ancient civilizations instigated people to explore the seas and develop techniques in shipbuilding and navigation – the earliest ones would have been meant to sail near the coast, and then others already through the deep seas. The archeological and iconographic evidence available today indicates that Arabs and Persians would have already been sailing through the Persian/Arabian Gulf, the strait of Hormuz and the Gulf of Oman during the Bronze Age (about two thousand years BC). The question that scholars ask at this point is not so much whether, but how sailors managed to complete these voyages at such an early stage of history, as well as the kind of technology that may have been involved.

To try and access this information, a group of researchers from NYU Abu Dhabi and Zayed University is working together with a team of shipwrights from Kerala, India, in the reconstruction of a boat from the Bronze Age. The process is challenging, for there is no existing shipwreck from this period – the reconstruction has therefore to be based on every piece of evidence that may help to elucidate the materials and techniques used at the time. These include ancient miniature models, lists of goods recorded in clay tablets and indigenous ship building techniques. The final outcome of the project will be an 8-meter vessel made with materials such as bitumen and wood, or goat hair in the case of the sails. The entire reconstruction process will result in more than that, in the sense that it will provide researchers with a more solid understanding of the maritime technology existing in the Gulf region during the Bronze Age. Once it is finished, the ship will be tested on water and, who knows, perhaps even sailed in the deep sea. [Inês Bénard]

Why the RUTTER Training School is an Experience Worth Having

One-week training schools hardly turn participants into experts in a particular field, no matter how intensive they are. Reasonably, the more diverse and multidisciplinary they are, the less they can deepen into a single specific aspect. That was the case of the RUTTER training school “The long life of manuscripts: from material to immaterial texts”, in which international experts provided a multifaceted overview of the study of manuscripts.

While it’s not possible to think that an evening of paleography enables someone to read any 16th-century manuscript, the theoretical-practical lesson showed the difficulties and the kind of work necessary to embark on such a task. Similarly, the aim of the talks on digital humanities presented some of the possibilities offered by the technological advances in the field and a taste of the practical work rather than a specific training.

So, what are the reasons to attend the training school? The survey that we prepared to evaluate the success of the event can give some clues about it.

All participants registered an improvement of their current knowledge ranging between good and excellent, whit the majority considering it very good. The quality of the lectures was rated very good by 64% of participants and excellent by 34%. These are very good evaluations, but what we find important is that the training school was considered helpful in future research by all participants, with 46% rating if excellent and 54% rating it very good.

Networking, visits to beautiful places like the Biblioteca da Ajuda and the Academia das Ciências and moments of fun were also present, as shown here.

Silvana Munzi and Luana Giurgevich, organizers of the training school, before one of the sessions. Photo by José Carvalho

The main goal of the course was to show how the study of ancient manuscripts is still crucial in the fields of history, history of science and beyond. We think that we fully accomplished our mission, and we hope that this experience will inspire the future path of the participants. In the meantime, we are planning the second edition of the RUTTER training school, stay tuned! [Silvana Munzi]

Flowing Water, Floating Knowledge, Fleeting History

Ever flowing since birth, ocean water became a vessel of information from the moment humankind entered its flux. Several waves of cultural connection trace the moments when – carrying objects, people, ideas – Austronesian, Harappan, Phoenician, Iranian, Greek, Roman, Arab, Indian, Norse, and Chinese seafarers left shore. A connectedness magnified to a planetary scale by the transoceanic voyages of the European Age of Exploration, a wave that reached the five oceans, ever since making water a carrier of ideas to other lands. By observing these historical waves, and by following the routes travelled in the Early Modern era, it seems possible to follow the path of human knowledge through the planet. Or, at least, to have a glimpse at the itinerary of certain ideas, perhaps floating adrift, wandering in the ocean of historiography.

A way to catch such a glimpse may be tracing what ideas were physically transported in these oceanic voyages, that is, what recreational printed books were carried from Europe to the New World and to the Indies. While in the Spanish case seasoned research on the libraries transported across the Atlantic Ocean to American territories has been made, in the Portuguese case there is some work to be made to understand how the history of knowledge and ideas was affected by the flux of information going on board Portuguese ships across the Atlantic and the Indian oceans. The presence of a booklet of the most famous play of Portuguese literary history –the Auto da Barca do Inferno (Act of the Boat of the Netherworld, 1517), by Gil Vicente– in the library of Inéz de la Peña (d. 1521), famous for having travelled from Castille to Santo Domingo with 224 printed objects, is paradigmatic.

The earliest artistic depiction of a round caravel, in the upper right of the oil painting “Arrival of the relics of Saint Auta at Madre de Deus Monastery”. This piece of the polyptych Saint Auta Altarpiece was made by an unknown painter at a Lisbon workshop, circa 1522, and is now displayed at the National Museum of Ancient Art.

A classical allegory of the afterlife in the river of the dead –good souls go to Glory by embarking on an angelic ship, not so-good souls go to Hell by embarking on a devilish ship–, the freshly out of print Auto da Barca do Inferno crossed the Atlantic, disseminating more than a Renaissance literary trope. Surprisingly, it transforms the Virgilian and Dantesque fluvial journey into an oceanic voyage. The traditional vessel transporting the dying souls is not only duplicated, but both Vicente’s ships are turned into square-rigged or round caravels, the late fifteenth-century invention and choice of Portuguese navigators for long-distance oceanic voyages. While the angelic ship is praised as a “saint caravel” all wish to embark, the devilish vessel is rejected by all the deceased, who deprecating it do not wish to enter “in such a caravel”, since its destination is a “lost island” in the middle of the ocean. Adding to the unpleasant idea of spending eternity to Hell, the deceased are offered a sense of lack of security in this voyage, as, while both caravels have instruments to guide them, such as the nautical compass, the devil will not make use of it to arrive to safe port. A lack of care stated by the Fool, who describes the Devil as “one who pisses on the magnetic needle”.

By following the path of this booklet in the Atlantic waters, and its literary transformations, it seems possible to grasp something fleeting in the Early Modern History of Science. A transformation in the perception about how the use of nautical instruments is entwined with the notion of a safe voyage. A transformation of the very scenery of the voyage of life –now oceanic, now magnified. A transformation of the scale of the transmission and circulating of ideas, ever flowing like blue water. [Joana Lima]

A Surprise at the Bibliothèque de l’Institut de France: Théodore de Godefroy and his Nautical Papers

Following our previous posts on documental discoveries in archives, we could not fail to report a French example. Theódore de Godefroy (1580-1649) was a famous French historian and jurist of the 17th century, with an important work and career under King Louis XIII of France (1610-1643). Coming from a Calvinist family of Professors of Law at Geneve University, Théodore came to France. In 1617, he was named historian of the King of France. He also became an advisor of the King and was named, in 1643, for the dealings of Munster and, in 1647, for the negotiations for the Treaty of Westphalia.

Throughout his extensive career, Theódore authored significant works, the most celebrated among them being Le Cérémonial de France (1619). Furthermore, he curated an important collection pertaining to Portugal, which led him to produce De L’origine des Roys de Portugal issues en ligne masculine de la Maison de France qui regne aujourd’hui (initially published in 1612). Theódore’s writings on Portugal are intrinsically linked to his numerous endeavors aimed at persuading the French elite to provide unwavering support for the Portuguese Restoration of independence (from 1640 onwards), in opposition to Spain. The bulk of Theódore’s personal papers, as well as those of his forebears and successors, are archived at the Bibliothèque de l’Institut de France in Paris. This collection comprises almost 600 volumes, with remarkable historical materials relevant to the history of Europe as a whole.

While Theódore’s primary objective revolved around political pursuits aimed at bolstering French arguments against Spanish dominance in Europe, he also understood the significance of nautical knowledge for France during his era. Thus, nautical materials acquired their own place in Theódore’s collection. One particularly noteworthy item is a translation, from the original Portuguese into French, of the renowned nautical rutter authored by Vicente Rodrigues. This nautical guide traced the seafaring route from Lisbon to Goa, in addition to several other routes traversing the Indian and Pacific Oceans. Accompanying this work is a Spanish nautical rutter, which provides guidance on sailing from the Atlantic to the Pacific Ocean via the Strait of Magellan. Interestingly, this nautical rutter also furnishes information pertaining to maritime routes leading to the Spanish Caribbean and various points in South America.

Theódore also had a collection of maritime intelligence documentation, among which a 1629 Spanish address to King Philip IV of Spain (1621-1665). The unnamed author implored the Spanish monarch (as his ancestors had done) to prioritize the education and training in cosmography of oceanic navigators. The aim was to ensure that Spain continued to possess the finest navigators capable of sailing its maritime routes effectively, thus retaining a competitive edge against emerging enemies such as the French, English, and Dutch. In pursuit of this goal, Theódore also translated another document into French—an undated Spanish plan devised to obstruct the successful nautical endeavors of the Dutch in their routes to Asia.

In one of his works, Theódore confided that the most jubilant moment in his life was when he received news that the French ambassador in Rome had finally achieved precedence over his Spanish counterpart. When writing this, Theódore was acutely aware that this outcome was realized because France was emerging as a power not only within the confines of Europe but also across distant oceans. These nautical items preserved within Theódore’s collection may not represent the only ones he acquired over the course of his extensive career. However, they serve as a testament to his profound insights. If France aspired to supplant Spain’s dominion on the European stage, it had to position itself as a formidable maritime and global player. To fulfill this ambition, France needed to glean invaluable lessons from its maritime competitors on how to construct and sustain a worldwide maritime empire. Theódore recognized that at the core of this endeavor lay the relentless pursuit of nautical knowledge. Consequently, he meticulously gathered nautical knowledge and maritime intelligence from Spain, Portugal, England, and the Dutch Republic. Similar to Cardinal de Richelieu (1585-1642), Theódore understood that maritime knowledge constituted a pivotal foundation upon which France could not afford to gamble to win the strategic contest of global power against Spain. [Nuno Vila-Santa]

Observing ‘Apparent Death’ Behavior in South Atlantic?

During oceanic voyages, particularly when approaching islands and coasts, the sailors had the opportunity to observe a diverse array of birds, fish, insects, and animals. Among these observations, there are intriguing accounts of unusual phenomena, offering a unique glimpse into the natural world’s complexities. One specific account stands out – a potential early depiction of the behaviour known as “apparent death”, in which animals assume a motionless state, often triggered by a predatory attack. This behavior is illustrated by the astonishment of the pilot of the ship “Espera”, who saw a sizable white fish lying on its back. On June 2, 1537, en route from Lisbon to Diu, while navigating 400 leagues away from the Tristan da Cunha Islands, the pilot penned the following note:

Here I saw a sign unlike anything I had seen before in my life. It appeared as something as large as a loaf of bread, as white as snow, gliding over the water resembling cotton. Whenever a bird landed nearby, it would sink beneath the surface. I encountered two or three of these. They were fish-resembling rodents, and they would flip over at will, exposing their very white bellies. Upon sensing any approach, they would swiftly change the position of their belly. (Quoted from A. Fontoura da Costa, Livro de marinharia de Bernardo Fernandes, Lisboa, 1940, pp. 142-143.)

Such a description seems to align well with the pufferfish. When frightened or irritated, the pufferfish inflates its body, like a rubber ball, and floats upside down for a while until it releases the air, allowing it to dive again. Apart from extraordinary phenomena like the one of the pufferfish, there were recurrent interactions with other various animals and species. In previous posts, we explored observations of seabirds, seaweeds, snakes, or even butterflies. A frequent encounter was with gelatinous organisms, commonly referred to in documents as “caravelas da Guiné” (or Caravels of Guinea), characterized by their vivid red or blue hues. In 1547, pilot Bernardo Fernandes recorded an abundance of small jellyfish akin to “caravelas da Guiné” near the Tristan da Cunha Islands. Notably, he even managed to capture one, confirming its blue colour. This organism likely corresponds to the “Portuguese man-of-war” (Physalia physalis), given its striking resemblance to a Portuguese caravel ship in full sail. As we can observe, while the attribution of “Portuguese” was applied at a later time, the analogy to the “caravel”, along with its connection to the Guinea coast and the India run, was already firmly established itself in the Portuguese navigators’ lexicon, as demonstrated by records of the early 16th century. [Luana Giurgevich]

The Deadliest Enemy (II)

The era of oceanic navigation was concurrent with the prevalence of scurvy, often referred to as the “plague of the sea.” Prior to the 14th-15th centuries, sailors used to navigate fairly close to the coast, and only brief periods of time were spent far from land and fresh food (and vitamin C).

Remedies to alleviate symptoms and to cure scurvy were known, but largely ignored. For instance, Chinese used to cultivate ginger in pots on their ships since the fifth century, an infusion of spruce needles provided by native populations proved able to cure French explorers in Quebec, lemon juice kept Captain Lancaster’s crew healthy, and the medicinal virtues of the Drymis winteri bark to deal with scurvy were discovered by Drake’s Vice-Admiral John Winter.

If knowledge of how to prevent and cure scurvy has been present in various historical periods and regions, why didn’t official medicine recognize it for such a long time?

Stephen Bown, the author of “Scurvy: How a surgeon, a mariner, and a gentleman solved the greatest medical mystery of the age of sail” primarily attributes this oversight to the narrow-minded stance of the scientific authorities of that era, particularly within the British context.

They relied on unfounded theories related to humoral imbalance or putrefaction, and medical philosophies looked for comprehensive explanations for bodily functions and diseases. This emphasis on unified theories may have disregarded the importance of specific nutritional factors in preventing scurvy. Additionally, the hierarchical structure of the medical profession and the reluctance to question prevailing beliefs hindered the dissemination and acceptance of alternative knowledge on scurvy prevention and treatment.

As a result, despite the existence of effective practices used by sailors and native populations, it took an extended period for official medicine to recognize and adopt these methods in the prevention and cure of scurvy.

It was only in 1747 that the first clinical trial was conducted by the Scottish naval surgeon James Lind on sailors in the Salisbury. His experiment tested the effects of various supplements on twelve members of the crew suffering from scurvy. After few days, the men supplied with orange and lemon were completely recovered. Despite this significant finding, Lind’s recommendations were largely overlooked, as they clashed with the prevailing theories of the time.

It took some decades more for the antiscorbutic properties of citrus juice to be fully recognized and for the devastating toll of the disease that characterized the Age of Discovery to come an end. [Silvana Munzi]