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Saintly physician, diabolical doctor, medieval saint: exploring the reputation of Gil de Santarem in Medieval and renaissance Portugal.

In the National Library of Medicine in the United States can be found a large compilation of herbal recipes entitled Remedies for various illnesses, which was translated from Catalan into Italian in Perpignan on 24 May 1463. The translator informs us in his prologue that the work had originally been compiled by the thirteenth-century Portuguese Dominican friar, Gil de Santarem, and he says of Gil that:

Before he entered the [Dominican] order he was a master of arts and medicine and [...] after he was in the order he was a great theologian [...] And he ended his life on the day of the Ascension of Our Lord Jesus Christ [...] in the town called Santarem in the convent of his order in [...] Portugal. [...] after his death at this tomb miracles were performed and he is still held in great devotion throughout that kingdom. And I the scribe have been to that place and convent and heard of many of his miracles and notable deeds in life and in death. Amongst others of a well built in the convent, held to be an impossible thing in that place where there is a great lack of water. Some said it was done by divine power, others that it was done by the art of magic for some said that he was a great necromancer. (1)

This passage acts as an introduction to the three main threads that make up Gil's reputation: master of medicine, miracle-working saint, and necromancer. (2) They are closely intertwined threads that probably began to be wound together during Gil's lifetime and continued to form a dense net of legend centuries after his death. The aim here is to unravel these three threads a little and explore the way in which Gil's enduring reputation illustrates the extent to which medicine, magic and religion are bound together as methods of explaining and controlling the universe and its workings. (3)

Gil de Santarem was born in the last quarter of the twelfth century into a noble family of Coimbra. Over the years there have been considerable doubts about his family background, but the evidence now suggests that he was probably the son of Juliao Pais (d. 1215), chancellor to the first three Portuguese kings, and therefore connected to some of the most prominent families of late-medieval Portugal. (4) Gil pursued a career as a physician and churchman, probably entering the Dominican Order in c. 1225 in Paris, where he appears to have studied and perhaps taught medicine. (5) The most important medieval source for Gil's life is the Vitae fratrum, a Dominican compilation of inspirational stories dating from c. 1260, which includes some stories contributed by Gil and others written about him. Humbert de Romans (d. 1277), who initiated the Vitae fratrum project while he was Master General of the order, knew Gil well as a novice in Paris, and reported:

he saw many signs of humility and obedience and other virtues in him. For when the brothers were in the schools, he went himself to the latrines and, those which he found dirty, he cleaned, carried out the waste of the infirmary, and washed the bowls and dishes, as far as he was secretly able to do so. [...] Always praying or reading or teaching or meditating [...] he listened to the Lives of the Fathers and the Saints and referred to them gladly [...] Edifying everyone by his holy conversation, he inspired them to love of the order, of holy poverty, and true obedience [...] He encouraged the sick, although he himself was often sick, with his consoling advice, warning that they should not treat themselves with medicines, but with faith in Christ they should joyfully accept what was served them and it would benefit them greatly, because grace is stronger than nature, and Christ more powerful than Galen. (6)

By the time the Vitae fratrum was compiled, Gil was living in retirement in Santarem, then an important royal and ecclesiastical centre. He had probably returned to Portugal in c. 1230, and after a stint as a conventual teacher had become prior provincial of the Dominican province of Hispania. Gil had to travel all over the peninsula in the course of his duties, so it is likely that he wrote his medical works later in Santarem. (7) As well as compiling Remedies for various illnesses, he translated from Arabic into Latin books by the ninth- and tenth-century Persian physicians Rasis and Ibn Masawaih, (8) and wrote two short works of recipes and prognostic signs. (9) Gil died, traditionally aged eighty, in Santarem on 14 May (Ascension Day) 1265. His obituary was recorded in the Livro das Kalendas of Coimbra cathedral, where he is described as:

Master Gil, former presbiter, canon and treasurer of this church of Coimbra, who passed away as a Friar Preacher and [...] lies honourably in the monastery of the Friars Preacher at Santarem. (10)

Note that Gil was not remembered here as saint, necromancer, or physician, but as an eminent ecclesiastic. A tomb effigy believed to be Gil's, now in the Archaeological Museum in Lisbon, also presents him as a senior ecclesiastical figure.

After Gil died the threads of his reputation began to twist, and he was eventually drawn into the following legend. Gil was a young nobleman who, on his way to Paris to study medicine, was waylaid by the devil and persuaded to study necromancy in Toledo in Castile. He made a pact with the devil signed in his own blood, and studied black magic for seven years. He then continued to Paris and became a famous physician thanks to his diabolical powers. After some time Gil was disturbed by visions of an armed knight, who commanded him to change his ways. Frightened, he set out for Portugal, but on the way became ill and was forced to rest in Palencia in Castile. While there, Gil saw some Dominicans building their convent and, impressed, asked if he could join them. It took a further seven years, however, before Gil was able to recover the bloody pact with the help of the Virgin Mary. Subsequently he led an exemplary life as a friar, eventually dying with a saintly reputation as a miracle-worker. (11)

It used to be thought that this legend was invented in the early-modern period when it was first written down. There is little evidence for Gil's medieval cult and no attempt was made to have him officially recognized by the pope until 1627; he was not beatified until 1748. (12) However, the fact that Gil was already referred to as a miracle-worker and necromancer in the translation of Remedies for various illnesses in 1463 makes it clear that the legend existed much earlier. Numerous other clues in the sources confirm that Gil's cult originated in the Middle Ages. (13) It is true though that the cult was heavily influenced by the social and religious environment of the sixteenth century. During the century the Dominicans produced four major vitae of Gil de Santarem, the most important being that of the humanist Andre de Resende (d.1573) who developed Gil's legend in line with the ideals of Erasmus and the Council of Trent. (14) Gil later attracted the interest of several nineteenth-century writers who turned him into a symbol of Portuguese national identity. (15) One of these, Almeida Garrett, linked him to a similar figure he had come across in the north, probably in Belgium. He wrote of Gil: 'Algures lhe chamei ja o nosso Doutor Fausto; e e com efeito. Nao lhe falta senao o seu Goethe.' (16) Thanks to Garrett, Gil's reputation today is as 'the Portuguese Faust', and both his medical and saintly identities have been submerged.

How to explain these various threads of Gil's reputation? The juxtaposition of necromancer and saintly friar is not as strange as it might at first seem. Gil's devil pact and dramatic conversion form part of a powerful tale of sin and redemption. It is in effect a Marian miracle, the roots of which go back to the early-church legends of Cyprian, a third-century pagan magician who tried to seduce a Christian woman, was converted by her, and eventually martyred, and Theophilus, a sixth-century priest who tried to recover lost status by making a pact with the devil, repented and, through the intercession of the Virgin Mary, won back the document. (17) There are also elements of the story of Gerbert of Aurillac (Pope Sylvester II, 999-1003), said to have learned astrology from Iberian Saracens and become pope thanks to a devil pact. (18) In the early-modern period, after the cult of the Virgin Mary had been transformed by the Christocentric ideals of the Counter-Reformation, Gil's story was heavily altered. In the seventeenth century, it became the subject of two little-known Spanish plays, El Esclavo del Demonio by Antonio Mira de Amescua (1612) and Caer para Levantar by Antonio Moreto (1652) and it influenced the much more famous El Magico Prodigioso by Pedro Calderon de la Barca (1637), based on the Cyprian legend. (19) The similar story of Faust, circulating in northern Europe at this time and later made famous by Christopher Marlowe and Johann Goethe, was yet another tale based on the early medieval saints' lives and adapted to contemporary circumstances. (20)

Why might Gil have been sucked into a 'Faust-myth'? What all the Faustian stories have in common was a preoccupation with the dangers of pursuing knowledge for its own sake, and it is probable that for this reason some northern clerics regarded an ambitious Iberian physician who knew Arabic with suspicion. It was a northerner after all, the twelfth-century English monk William of Malmesbury, who thought up Gerbert of Aurillac's pact with the devil, and several northern chroniclers pictured Toledo as a centre of black magic. (21) In the late Middle Ages the Iberian popes John XXI (d. 1277) and Benedict XIII (d. 1422) were both accused of diabolical practices by their enemies (22), and Dante placed the thirteenth-century astrologer Michael Scot, who worked in Toledo for a while, in the part of Hell reserved for sorcerers. (23) Historian Ferreiro Alemparte argues that Toledo's reputation as a 'school' for black magic was probably related to its reputation as a 'school' for Arabic translation during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. (24) In c. 1220 Michael Scot translated Aristotle's On animals there, a work belonging to a group of texts banned at the University of Paris, and earlier Gerard of Cremona (d. 1187) translated numerous texts, including some by Rasis, the author also translated by Gil de Santarem. (25) Gil's black legend probably developed as part of an ongoing northern discourse about the Iberian kingdoms.

It is also possible that the content of Gil's medical writings may have caused contemporaries and later scholars to doubt his orthodoxy. It is important to emphasize that there is nothing particularly 'magical' in Gil's writings, and certainly nothing that could be described as necromancy. His recipes include examples of what could be described as 'natural' magic: the hidden workings of herbs and other substances on the body, but the same could be said of most practical medical works of the Middle Ages. (26) It is also the case that academic magic texts appear to have circulated freely in ecclesiastical circles, often produced in monastic scriptoria, without causing much comment. (27) However, Gil's translation of Arabic works belonging to the widespread genre of 'secrets' literature, despite the fact that they seem to have been preserved in the context of university lecture notes, might have sowed doubts in some conservative minds. (28) Although Rasis explains in the prologue of Book of Secrets in Medicine (translated by Gil) that his intention was to reveal the obscured wisdom of the ancients, (29) this genre often included works containing alchemical, astrological, sexual and 'occult' material that did attract criticism in the Middle Ages. Magic in the Middle Ages became inextricably linked to Arabic learning, so this alone could have implicated Gil in controversy. (30)

Gil was also drawn into a legend that reflected numerous anxieties about medicine in general. According to medieval stereotypes, physicians were thought to be miserly, greedy and expensive; they relied on pagan writers like Galen; they were believed to endanger both their own and their patients' souls through ignorance and ambition; and generally were thought to have little religious respect. (31) There undoubtedly was an ambiguous attitude towards medicine in the late Middle Ages, but some of the negative stereotypes just listed largely developed as a result of the overwhelming success of the university-trained physician in establishing himself in the 'medical marketplace' during this period. He was one amongst several different practitioners available at this time, but came to be recognized as the elite health provider, even by those who lampooned him. (32) One genre of medieval writing that regularly maligned the medical practitioner was hagiography. In hundreds of saints' lives and miracle collections, the topos of despairing, incompetent physicians was used to illustrate the power of the shrine, but we should perhaps consider whether this also reflected the successful competition of the physician in the marketplace of health providers and consumers. (33) It is worthwhile to think about how Gil's medical and saintly activity interacted and contributed to his long-term reputation.

Darrell Amundsen dismissed the old belief that the Church categorically banned the practice of medicine and surgery by its clergy in his study of 1978. (34) Successive medieval popes did legislate on this subject, but they were usually worried about the lucrative nature of medical (and legal) practice, and the opportunities it gave for inappropriate behaviour. A famous canon of the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 banned the practice of surgery by those in major orders, but this reflected a concern about bloodshed; clerics were also banned from passing sentence of death and attending trials by ordeal. The fact is that many physicians were in minor orders, and those in major orders and regular clergy--including friars--could seek dispensation from these bans. (35) The celebrated surgeon Teodorico Borgognoni of Bologna (d. 1298) was a Dominican friar and Bishop of Cervia, (36) and at least three Portuguese physicians became bishops; one became pope: John XXI, usually identified with the medical author Petrus Hispanus, although this is an identification fraught with problems. (37) Gil de Santarem was thus far from being the only ecclesiastic noted for medicine during the later Middle Ages. In fact, it is likely that being a physician of the body accorded Gil extra credence as a physician of the soul. This was certainly the view held by Domingas Pires who, suffering from a hand abscess, went to Gil's tomb and prayed in supplication and with tears to the blessed man that, since in life he had been a physician not only of souls but also of bodies and had cured many through the art of medicine and through word and prayer and now that he was powerful with God, he would deign to cure this his supplicant. (38)

The concept of Christus medicus, the equation of sin/heresy with disease, and the administering of divine medicine by physicians of the soul--monks and priests--are extremely old ideas that can be found in the writings of St Augustine and earlier. (39) Medical references in the Bible could be interpreted in a spiritual light, the most famous example being the verses from Ecclesiasticus 38:1-15 that begin: 'Honour the physician for the need thou hast of him: for the most High hath created him'. (40) For this reason, ascetics who otherwise disapproved of complex medical treatments could display considerable medical knowledge in their own writings. (41) Medicine was part of the general knowledge of learned men. Later, physicians and surgeons like Petrus Hispanus, Arnau de Vilanova (d. 1311) and Henri de Mondeville (d. c. 1320) reversed the process by using the same biblical rhetoric in order to promote the divine origins of their professions. (42) Dealing with death, the 'secrets' of nature, and afflictions both of the body and of the soul, they emphasized the spiritual dimension of medicine, and thus established their ethical and scholarly credentials. (43) It is in the context of this process that Gil's medical reputation and its religious element needs to be understood.

A key passage quoted earlier from the Vitae fratrum recorded Gil's warning to the sick that 'they should not treat themselves with medicines, but [...] should joyfully accept what was served them [...] because grace is stronger than nature, and Christ more powerful than Galen', the main medical authority of late antiquity and the Middle Ages. (44) This passage appears to suggest that Gil had misgivings about his former profession, misgivings that can also be found in one of his miracles. After curing a blind man by anointing his eyes with oil and making the sign of the cross, Gil was asked by a friar-physician why he went against medical advice. Gil answered that faith was stronger than art, comparing himself to Christ who also anointed the eyes of the blind contra medicorum regulas. (45) His words reflect the disillusionment with scholastic medicine as represented by Galen, which some pious learned men felt in the second half of the thirteenth century. (46) They felt that medicine based on a lengthy period of learning from non-Christian texts that promoted complex and expensive remedies was inappropriate. This attitude should not be overemphasized as in the early-fourteenth century Henri de Mondeville used the same biblical image of anointing the blind to describe Christ as a cirurgicus practicus, (47) reflecting the growing confidence of academic surgeons, and Galen continued to dominate medical learning until the seventeenth century. However, it is important to note that Gil was not alone in his concerns, if indeed they were his and not those of Humbert de Romans. (48) It is clear that some of the medical references in the Vitas fratrum should be interpreted spiritually in line with Humbert's wider aims. It described the Dominicans as 'spiritual physicians', (49) and its miracles, death scenes, and extreme ascetism should all be seen as hagiographical topoi. (50) Gil's words should not then be taken at face value. In fact elsewhere in the Vitae fratrum, Gil related approvingly the story of Pedro de Santarem: 'a physician of wonderful kindness, who willingly dispensed help and advice to the sick flocking to him, and as much as he could, alleviated the pain of the brothers'. (51) Interestingly, during Gil's lifetime the Dominican authorities tried to prevent friars from practising medicine amongst the laity. The provincial chapter held at Palencia in 1249 decreed that 'friarphysicians in our province [which at that time consisted of the whole Iberian Peninsula] must not receive any sick person in their care, other than our brothers, nor inspect urines, nor give out any medicine'. (52) Does this legislation reflect some of the ascetic ideals later found in the Vitae fratrum, or were the authorities more worried about inappropriate professionalism, as suggested by the emphasis on urine examination? The key question should be whether friars charged fees for their medical services and whether they were prescribing expensive medicines. (53) Some light can be shed in a brief study of Gil's miracles, bearing in mind that they are subject to the same generic problems as the didactic, hagiographical stories of the Vitae fratrum.

It is clear from Gil's miracles that several friars at Santarem were physicians, and that many of the people eventually healed by the saint originally went to the convent seeking medical aid. Maria Domingas, unable to conceive due to a continual haemorrhage, despaired of her health 'after the useless and empty care of many physicians, as many of the laity as of the Dominican convent, namely brothers Andre and Bernardo '. In common with many of Gil's miracles, it was a woman, her mother, who suggested that she go to church on Ascension Sunday and make a vow to Gil. (54) The friars on the other hand appear to have offered a medical service and promoted Gil's cult very little. Despite the words 'useless and empty', Gil's miracles generally display a positive attitude towards medicine and surgery. Other local practitioners often appear in a fairly good light, and although they usually failed to cure their patients, they were often not to blame. (55) For example, the surgeon of a boy who suffered a blow to the head 'extracted eighteen bones and skull fragments, and cut various places of the skin in order to uncover and inspect the seams of the skull'. This was standard medieval treatment for a skull fracture that only failed because the boy was restless, provoking a haemorrhage. (56) Sometimes Gil himself healed people medically or surgically in a vision. He appeared to Paio Nunes, a poor charcoal burner, repairing his hernia causing considerable pain, and to Maria Bernarda, who had earache, advising her to treat her ears with a hot vapour bath. (57) It is unusual for miracle collections to present medical practitioners so positively, and to provide so much medical detail (a feature of 41% of cases). Cults tended to denigrate physicians because they competed for wealth and prestige in the locality, so although physicians failed in miracles, the topos only worked because medical care was a potentially successful option that most supplicants took before approaching the shrine. In some cases they continued to receive medical treatment afterwards. (58) There is no sign that Gil and his brethren charged for their services; indeed, Gil told one of his supplicants not to spend any more money on physicians. (59) It is possible that the lack of reference to a fee is a pious omission because otherwise it is clear that both St Gil and the friars were operating successfully in the medical marketplace, but we should not ignore the possibility that charitable medicine was practised even in this era of increasing professionalism and rising fees. (60) Gil's apparent rejection of the world of Galen in the Vitae fratrum should not imply that he disapproved of medical practice, but rather that he sought to remind readers that health actually depended on divine will; 'faith was stronger than art' as he had told his colleague. Even if it could be shown that the Gil of these hagiographical works was a cipher used to promote Dominican ideals, there is plenty of evidence that academic physicians and surgeons of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries never doubted the ultimate source of their skill.

With this understanding, it is not hard to explain why this pious friar-physician came to be revered as a saint by his local community. It had nothing initially to do with the legend of black magic and Marian redemption, although this did ensure continued interest in the cult. 14 May 1265 saw the death of a well-connected elderly man of high ecclesiastical status and admirable religiosity. Gil was already known for healing; the distinction between divine and medical cures not perhaps clear to all at a time when physicians increasingly presented their work as divinely ordained. Gil was also remembered for his ecstatic states. In the Vitae fratrum, a friar reported that he saw Gil:

sitting down suddenly on the road, rapt in spirit, unaware of external things, and afterwards returning to himself with great groaning; from which it was seen that he was removed from celestial and internal illumination painfully. (61)

In the vitae these episodes were more dramatic: an incredulous physician of Lisbon pricked and burned Gil's skin to see if he was faking, and Elvira Duranda, a worthy woman of Santarem, watched him enveloped in a column of light for two hours. (62) Gil sometimes knew when these trances were about to occur and preferred to hide himself from public view; recovery could be painful and disorientating. (63) All these details explain Gil's unusual physical and psychological presence in the local community. It is also the case that he died on Ascension Day when the church was already filled with pious people and the cult received new impetus every year on that day. (64) Devout people who were set apart by their physical and moral behaviour could very easily be revered as saints at an immediate local level (65) and medieval sources are littered with traces of failed cults that began in much the same way as Gil's. (66) The survival and development of a cult was subject to many other political, financial and religious factors, not least the development of an imaginative hagiographical tradition, but the initial choice of individual is not surprising.

To conclude with one last miracle: Domingas Pires brought her son Joao to the friar-physicians Andre and Bernardo because he was suffering a violent haemorrhage. They ordered her to go home and prepare a prescription they gave her, adding:

'go into the church to venerate brother Gil and hang some earth [in a little bag] from his tomb around your son's neck. Perhaps he will take pity and come to your boy's aid'. She entered the church and, finding the sacristan, asked him to tie some earth round her son's neck. This done, and having said a brief prayer of supplication she left so that she could prepare what the physicians had ordered without delay. They had not gone more than thirty paces when the boy's stream of blood stopped. (67)

This miracle can be interpreted in several ways. First of all, it is a miracle cure using dust from the tomb, creating a contact relic of the type used since the earliest days of Christianity. (68) The dust could be sprinkled on the afflicted limb or drunk mixed in wine, but putting it in a little bag hung around the neck suggests two further ancient practices. Practical herbal texts of the kind that Gil and Petrus Hispanus compiled sometimes recommended the tying of herbs around the neck in a little bag. (69) These preparations were often the same as those used in ointments or potions, but tied around the body they were known as ligatures and acted as sympathetic amulets. Such ligatures were viewed with great suspicion by St Augustine, as smacking of magic, but a passage approving of them can be found in the prologue to Petrus Hispanus's medical recipes. (70) Thus through this miracle it is possible to bring together the three threads of Gil's reputation once again. In the same way that relic, amulet and herbal preparation become one, his image as saint, necromancer and physician merge to form one fascinating individual, whose reputation highlights the close relationship between magic, medicine and religion.

University of Durham

(1) National Library of Medicine, Bethesda MD, MS 22 (Rimedii de diverse malatie), fol. 17. According to the prologue, the original language of the compilation was Latin, but there is no indication of when it was translated into Catalan. I am responsible for all translations into English.

(2) The original version of this article was given at the Society for Spanish and Portuguese Historical Studies meeting in Madrid in July 2003. I would like to thank my fellow panellists Lisa Abend, Jon Arrizabalaga and Andrew Keitt for their insights, and also Simon Tugwell OP and Maria Joao Branco for the help they originally gave me for my doctoral thesis, aspects of which appear in this article.

(3) For Gil's career, see Iona McCleery, 'Opportunities for teaching and studying medicine in medieval Portugal before the foundation of the University of Lisbon (1290)', Dynamis, 20 (2000), 305-29; Jorge Custodio (ed.), S. Frei Gil de Santarem e a sua Epoca, (Santarem: Camara Municipal de Santarem, 1997); Danielle Jacquart and Gerard Troupeau (eds), Le Livre des axiomes medicaux (aphorismi) (Geneva: Droz, 1980), pp. 88-104; Maximiano Lemos, Historia da Medicina em Portugal: Doutrinas e Institucoes, 2 vols, 2nd edn (Lisbon: Publicacoes Dom Quixote/ Ordem dos Medicos, 1991), I, pp. 31-33.

(4) The obit usually accepted as that of Gil de Santarem is certainly that of Gil Juliaes, canon of Viseu and Coimbra, and son of Chancellor Juliao. See Pierre David and Torquato de Sousa Soares (eds), Liber anniversariorum ecclesiae cathedralis Colimbriensis (Livro das kalendas), 2 vols (Coimbra [no publisher given] , 1947), I, p. 246; I. Fleisch, 'Kirch, Konigtum und gelehrtes Recht im hochmittelalterlichen Portugal', (unpublished master's dissertation, University of Bamberg, 1998), p. 71, n. 395. Other clues link Gil de Santarem to this family; for example, he described himself as the consanguineus of Fernando Peres, Juliao Pais's nephew or grandson: Benedict Maria Reichert (ed.), 'Vitae fratrum ordinis Praedicatorum', Monumenta ordinis fratrum Praedicatorum historica, 1 (1896), p. 262; Maria Jose Azevedo Santos, 'Fernando Peres, ex-chantre da Se de Lisboa', Arquivo Historico Dominicano Portugues, 3:1 (1984), 243-58. For a full discussion, see Iona McCleery, 'The Life and Legend of Giles of Santarem, Dominican Friar and Physician (d. 1265): a Perspective on Medieval Portugal', (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of St Andrews, 2000), ch. 4.

(5) The prologue of Remedies for various illnesses is the only source to describe Gil as 'master of arts and medicine', but it prompted one historian to suggest that Gil taught the more famous Portuguese physician Petrus Hispanus: Mary Wack, Lovesickness in the Middle Ages: the 'Viaticum' and its Commentaries (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1990), p. 84. It was long accepted that Petrus Hispanus was born c. 1220 so it would have been impossible for Gil to teach him before returning to Portugal. L.M. de Rijk argued for an earlier birth date of 1205-10, in which case Gil could have been one of Petrus's Arts teachers, but his arguments have since been challenged. See Henri-Dominique Simonin, 'Les Summulae logicales de Petrus Hispanus', Archives d'histoire doctrinale et litteraire du moyen age 5, (1930), 267-78; Lambert Marie de Rijk, 'On the life of Peter of Spain, author of the Tractatus called afterwards Summule Logicales', Vivarium, 8 (1970), 123-54; Jose Francisco Meirinhos, 'Petrus Hispanus Portugalensis? Elementos para uma diferenciacao de autores', Revista Espanola de Filosofia Medieval, 3 (1996), 51-76; Angel D'Ors, 'Petrus Hispanus O.P., Auctor Summularum', Vivarium, 35 (1997), 21-71.

(6) Reichert, Vitae fratrum, pp. 154-55.

(7) The Paris and Cracow MSS of Book of medical secrets (see below note 8) state that they were written in Santarem, but the prologue of Remedies for various illnesses says Gil wrote his medical works before becoming a friar. He may be the Master Gil who borrowed a number of medical works, including one by Rasis, from the library of Santa Cruz de Coimbra in 1218: Augusto Aires Nascimento and Jose Francisco Meirinhos (eds), Catalogo dos Codices da Livraria de Mao de Santa Cruz de Coimbra na Biblioteca Publica Municipal do Porto (Oporto: Biblioteca Publica Municipal do Porto, 1997), pp. xcii-xciv; McCleery, 'Opportunities', 322-24.

(8) Book of medical secrets (Liber de secretis in medicina), a translation of Treatise on the Secret of the Medical Art by Rasis (d. c. 930) and Aphorisms by Yuhanna ibn Masawaih (d. 857). See Jacquart and Troupeau, Livre des axiomes medicaux; R. Kuhne, 'El Sirr Sina'at al-Tibb de Abu Bakr Muhammad b. Zakariyya' al-Razi', Al-Qantara, 3 (1982), 347-414; 5 (1984), 235-92; 6 (1985), 369-95, for modern editions of all or part of this work. The four fourteenth- or fifteenth-century manuscripts are Cracow, Biblioteka Jagiellonska, MS 2027, pp. 653-75 (paginated not foliated); Seville, Biblioteca Colombina, MS 5-5-21, fols 84-89v, 116-91); Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, MS Lat. 17847, fols 29-41; Vatican Library, MS Pal. Lat. 1298, fols 165-[72.sup.v]. There are a number of early-modern editions in collected works of Rasis, but Gil's name is omitted from all of them. See, for example, Opera Rasis (Venice: per Bonetum Locatellum Bergomensen, 1497), fols [93.sup.v]-[98.sup.v].

(9) Book of natures (Livro de naturas) and Signs of the sick (Synaees dos enffermos), found in Evora, Biblioteca Publica, MS CXXI/2-19, fols [141.sup.v]-[143.sup.v], with transcription in Lemos, Historia da medicina, I, pp. 32-33.

(10) David and Sousa Soares, Livro das Kalendas, I, p. 246. See above note 4.

(11) See Iona McCleery, 'The Virgin and the Devil: the role of the Virgin Mary in the Theophilus legend and its Spanish and Portuguese variants', in The Church and Mary, ed. by Robert Swanson, Studies in Church History, 39 (Woodbridge: Boydell & Brewer, 2004), pp. 147-56, for an analysis of this legend.

(12) Most evidence survives from the eighteenth century: a version of Gil's vita in Evora, Biblioteca Publica, MSS CV/2-4 and CV/2-5; two letters to the pope asking for his beatification in Lisbon, Biblioteca Nacional MS 1537, fols 294 and 296); an anonymous verse version of the vita including an image of Gil's tomb: A Egidea (Lisbon: Officina de Simao Thaddeo Ferreira, 1788), frontispiece.

(13) For example, some of Gil's miracles concerned people who can be documented independently: see Luciano Coelho Cristino, 'Presenca dominicana na regiao de Leiria antes de Santa Maria da Vitoria (sec. XIII-XIV)', Arquivo Historico Dominicano Portugues, 3:2 (1986), 81-94; also in 1294 Caterina Eanes bequeathed an olive grove to the Dominicans of Santarem on the condition that they maintained a lamp at the altar of 'blessed brother Gil': Antonio do Rosario, 'Pergaminhos dos conventos dominicanos. III serie: elementos de interesse para a historia da arte', Lusitania Sacra 2nd ser., 4 (1992), 345-70, at p. 359; and a fifteenth-century catalogue of saints venerated in the Dominican Order compiled by Laurence de Pignon includes S. Egidio de Portugallia: Gilles-Gerard Meersseman (ed.), 'Laurentii Pignon catalogi et chronica', Monumenta ordinis fratrum Praedicatorum historica, 18 (1936), 2-4.

(14) B. de Sao Joao, 'A vida do bem-aventurado Gil de Santarem por Fr. Baltazar de S. Joao', ed.by Aires Augusto Nascimento, Didaskalia, 11 (1981), 113-219, an edition based on Lisbon, Biblioteca da Ajuda, MS 51-I-56 (dated 1537); Antonio de Sao Domingos, 'A vida de Sam frey Gil', in his Compendio dos religiosos insignes da ordem dos Preegadores (Coimbra: per Ioam de Barreyra & Ioa Aluarez, 1552), pp. 109-19; Hernando del Castillo, 'El sancto varon fray Egidio o fray Gil Portugues', in his Primera parte de la historia general de Sancto Domingo (Madrid: Casa de Francisco Sanchez, 1584), fols 343-56v; Andre de Resende, Thesaurus Arcanus, ed. by Estevao de Sampaio (Paris: apud Thomam Perier, 1586). Resende's is by far the longest version, recording the majority of miracles; the edition used here is Virginia Soares Pereira (ed.), Aegidius Scallabitanus: um Dialogo sobre Fr. Gil de Santarem (Lisbon: Fundacao Calouste Gulbenkian, 2000), hereafter AS.

(15) Eca de Queiroz left an unfinished novel dealing with Gil's life: Ultimas Paginas (Manuscriptos Ineditos) (Oporto: Lello & Irmao, 1937). See also Teofilo Braga, Frei Gil de Santarem: Lenda Faustiana da Primeira Renascenca (Oporto: Chardron, 1905); Rebelo da Silva, Rausso por Homizio (1st. publ. 1842, Lisbon: Emp. Historia de Portugal, 1907).

(16) Almeida Garrett, Viagens na Minha Terra (1st publ. 1846; Lisbon: Guimaraes Editores 2001), p. 159. Gil also features in Dona Branca: Obras de Almeida Garrett, 2 vols (Oporto: Lello & Irmao, 1963), II, pp. 461-606.

(17) Philip Palmer and Robert More (eds), Sources of the Faust Tradition from Simon Magus to Lessing (New York: Octogon Books, 1936), pp. 41-77.

(18) William of Malmesbury, Gesta regum anglorum: the History of the English Kings, ed. by R.A.B. Mynors, R.M. Thomson and Michael Winterbottom, 2 vols (Oxford: Clarendon Press 1998-99), I, pp. 278-95.

(19) Antonio Mira de Amescua, El Esclavo del Demonio, in Teatro, ed. by A. Valbuena Prat, 2 vols (Madrid: Espasa-Calpe, 1960), I, pp. 5-153; Antonio Moreto, Caer para Levantar, in Comedias Escogidas de D. A. Moreto y Cabana, ed. by L. Fernandez Guerra Y Orbe, Biblioteca de Autores Espanolas, 39 (Madrid, 1873), pp. 583-600; Pedro Calderon de la Barca, El Magico Prodigioso, ed. by M. McKendrick and A.A. Parker (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992).

(20) For links with the Faust stories, see McCleery, 'The Virgin and the Devil'.

(21) For example, Caesarius of Heisterbach (d. c. 1240) and Salimbene de Adam (d. c. 1290); see Jaime Ferreiro Alemparte, 'La escuela de nigromancia de Toledo', Anuario de Estudios Medievales, 13 (1983), 205-68.

(22) Abelardo Lobato, 'El Papa Juan XXI y los dominicos', Mediaevalia: Textos e Estudos, 7-8 (1995), 303-27; M. Harvey, 'Papal witchcraft: the charges against Benedict XIII', in Sanctity and Society: the Church and the World, ed. by D. Baker, Studies in Church History, 10 (Oxford: Blackwell, 1973), pp. 109-16.

(23) Dante, The Divine Comedy, Canto XX, lines 115-17.

(24) Ferreiro Alemparte, 'Escuela de nigromancia'. Of course, since magic texts were translated in Toledo at the same time as medical and natural philosophical works, and disseminated in company with them in northern Europe, it is not surprising that stories of a 'school' of black magic circulated also.

(25) Charles Burnett, 'Michael Scot and the transmission of scientific culture from Toledo to Bologna via the court of Frederick II Hohenstaufen', Micrologus, 2 (1994), 101-26; Danielle Jacquart, 'Les traductions medicales de Gerard de Cremone', in Gerardo da Cremona, ed. by Pierluigi Pizzamiglio (Cremona: Biblioteca Statale, 1992), pp. 57-70.

(26) Richard Kieckhefer, Magic in the Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), pp. 8-17; Sophie Page, Magic in Medieval Manuscripts (London: British Library, 2004), pp. 18-28.

(27) Page, Magic, pp. 5-6.

(28) William Eamon, Science and the Secrets of Nature: Books of Secrets in Medieval and Early-Modern Culture (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994). Two of the manuscripts containing Gil's translation (those of Cracow and Seville) were products of university teaching (at the Universities of Cracow and Bologna respectively).

(29) The prologue is found in all the manuscripts, except the one from Cracow, and in all the editions. For a Spanish translation of the similar Arabic text: see R. Kuhne, 'El Sirr Sina'at al-Tibb de Abu Bakr Muhammad b. Zakariyya' al-Razi', Al-Qantara, 5 (1984), 235-92, at pp. 235-37. An English translation can be found in Lynn Thorndike, History of Magic and Experimental Science: the First Thirteen Centuries of our Era, 2 vols (London: Macmillan, 1923), II, p. 765.

(30) Kieckhefer, Magic, pp. 116-50; Charles Burnett, Magic and Divination in the Middle Ages: Texts and Techniques in the Islamic and Christian Worlds (Aldershot: Variorum Reprints, Ashgate), especially article IV.

(31) Vivian Nutton, 'God, Galen and the depaganization of ancient medicine', in Religion and Medicine in the Middle Ages, ed. by Peter Biller and Joseph Ziegler (Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2001), pp. 17-32; Joseph Ziegler, Medicine and Religion, c. 1300: the case of Arnau de Vilanova (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), pp. 19-21; Huling E. Ussery, Chaucer's Physician: Medicine and Literature in Fourteenth-Century England (New Orleans: Tulane University, 1971).

(32) For the concept of the 'medical marketplace' and the role of the learned physician, see Katharine Park, Doctors and Medicine in Early Renaissance Florence (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1985), pp. 85-117; Carole Rawcliffe, 'The Profits of Practice: the Wealth and Status of Medical Men in Later Medieval England', Social History of Medicine, 1 (1988), 61-78; Michael R. McVaugh, Medicine Before the Plague: Practitioners and their Patients in the Crown of Aragon, 1285-1345 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 1993), pp. 35-67, 136-38.

(33) Ronald C. Finucane, Miracles and Pilgrims: Popular Beliefs in Medieval England (London: J.M. Dent, 1995), pp. 60-99; Valerie I.J. Flint, 'The early medieval 'medicus', the saint--and the enchanter', Social History of Medicine, 2 (1989), 127-45; Joseph Ziegler, 'Practitioners and saints: medical men in canonization processes in the thirteenth to fifteenth centuries', Social History of Medicine, 12 (1999), 191-225; Simone C. Macdougall, 'The surgeon and the saints: Henri de Mondeville on divine healing', Journal of Medieval History, 26 (2000), 253-67.

(34) Darrel W. Amundsen, 'Medieval canon law on medical and surgical practice by the clergy', Bulletin of the History of Medicine, 52 (1978), 22-44.

(35) Cornelius O'Boyle, The 'Art of Medicine': Medical Teaching at the University of Paris, 1250-1400 (Leiden: Brill, 1998), pp. 45-52.

(36) Nancy G. Siraisi, Taddeo Alderotti and his Pupils: Two Generations of Italian Medical Learning (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1981), pp. 15-17; Eldridge Campbell and James Colton (trans.), The Surgery of Theodoric, 2 vols (New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1955-60).

(37) See above note 5 and also Jose Maria da Cruz Pontes, 'Questoes pendentes acerca de Pedro Hispano portucalense: filosofo, medico e Papa Joao XXI', in Actas do Congresso Internacional do IX Centenario da Dedicacao da Se de Braga, 4 vols (Braga, 1990), II, pp. 101-24. The two other episcopal physicians are Bishop Martinho of Guarda (d. 1322) and Bishop Afonso, successively of Guarda and Evora (d. 1354/5). For the former, see Fernando Felix Lopes, 'Breve apontamento sobre a Rainha Santa Isabel e a pobreza', in A Pobreza e a Assistencia aos Pobres na Peninsula Iberica durante a Idade Media, 2 vols (Lisbon: Instituto de Alta Cultura, 1972-3), II, pp. 527-45; for the latter, see Antonio Domingues de Sousa Costa, 'Mestre Afonso Dinis, medico e secretario de D. Afonso IV, professor na universidade de Paris', Itinerarium, 3 (1957), 369-417, 510-607.

(38) AS, pp. 498-99.

(39) Rudolph Arbesmann, 'The concept of Christus Medicus in St Augustine', Traditio, 10 (1954), 1-28.

(40) Ziegler, Medicine and Religion, pp. 230-40.

(41) See Ibid. pp. 224-25, for the example of Bernard of Clairvaux.

(42) Cornelius O'Boyle, 'Medicine, God and Aristotle in the early universities: prefatory prayers in late medieval medical commentaries', Bulletin of the History of Medicine, 66 (1992), 185-209; Ziegler, Medicine and Religion, pp. 230-40; Macdougall, 'Surgeon and the saints', pp. 257-58, 266-67; Maria Helena Rocha Pereira (ed.), Obras Medicas de Pedro Hispano (Coimbra: Universidade de Coimbra, 1973), pp. 78-81.

(43) For the close relationship between ethical and academic medicine in the medieval and early

modern periods, see Andrew Wear, Johanna Geyer-Kordesch, Roger French (eds), Doctors and Ethics: the Earlier Historical Setting of Professional Ethics (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1993); Samuel S. Kottek and Luis Garcia Ballester (eds), Medicine and Medical Ethics in Medieval and Early-Modern Spain: an Intercultural Approach (Jerusalem: Magnes Press, The Hebrew University, 1996).

(44) Reichert, Vitae fratrum, p. 155.

(45) AS, pp. 414-15.

(46) Similar sentiments can be found in Conrad of Eberbach, Exordium magnum cisterciense sive narratio de initio cisterciensis ordinis, ed. by B. Griesser, Corpus Christianorum: Continuatio Mediaevalis, 138 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1997), p. 207. See also Mark G. Jordan, 'The disappearance of Galen in thirteenth-century philosophy and theology', in Mensch und Natur im Mittelalter, ed. by Albert Zimmerman and Andreas Speer (Berlin: de Gruyter, 1992), pp. 703-13; William Eamon and Gundolf Keil, 'Plebs amat empirica: Nicholas of Poland and his critique of the medieval medical establishment', Sudhoffs Archiv, 71 (1987), 180-96.

(47) Macdougall, 'Surgeon and the saints', pp. 257-58.

(48) Humbert displays an ambivalence of his own in his writings. In his model sermon addressed to medical students he described medicine as honourable and useful with divine origins, but also referred to the vices of physicians: ignorance, greed and lack of religious respect: Sermones ad diversos status (Hagenau: [no publisher indicated] , 1508), no. 66. Humbert saw illness as spiritually beneficial for sick laity (Sermon 92), but also established guidelines for the active medical treatment of sick friars: Joachim Joseph Berthier (ed.), B. Humberti Romanis opera de vita regulari, 2 vols (Rome: Befani, 1888, rpt. Turin, 1956), II, pp. 302-08. For wider Dominican ambivalence, see Angela Montford, 'Dangers and disorders: the decline of the Dominican frater medicus', Social History of Medicine, 16 (2003), 169-91.

(49) Reichert, Vitae fratrum, p. 235.

(50) Alain Boureau, 'Vitae fratrum, vitae patrum: l'ordre dominicain et le modele des Peres du Desert au XIIIe siecles', Melanges de l'Ecole Francaise de Rome, 99 (1987), 79-100; John Van Engen, 'Dominic and the brothers: vitae as life-forming exempla in the Order of Preachers', in Christ among the Dominicans: Representations of Christ in the Texts and Images of the Order of Preachers, ed. by Kent Emery and Joseph Wawrykow (Notre Dame; University of Notre Dame Press 1998), pp. 2-25; Bernard Montagnes, 'Comment meurent les Precheurs meridionaux d'apres le Vitae fratrum', Cahiers de Fanjeaux, 33 (1998), 41-64.

(51) Reichert, Vitae fratrum, p. 259.

(52) Celestin Douais (ed.), Acta capitulorum provincialium ordinis ff. Praedicatorum, 2 vols (Toulouse: Edouard Privat, 1894), II, p. 610. For other examples, see Douais, Acta, II, p. 543, and Benedict Maria Reichert (ed.), 'Acta capitulorum generalium', 9 vols, Monumenta ordinis fratrum Praedicatorum historica, 3 (1898), I, p. 58.

(53) Three Dominican provincial chapters of the mid-thirteenth century banned the use of electuaries, syrups, and laxatives, all compound medicines, unless they were absolutely necessary: Douais, Acta, I, pp. 34 and 61; II, p. 493.

(54) AS, pp. 550-53. For analysis of this miracle and others like it, see I. McCleery, 'Multos ex medicinae arte curaverat, multos verbo et oratione: curing in medieval Portuguese saints' lives', in Signs, Wonders, Miracles: Representations of Divine Power in the Life of the Church, ed. by K. Cooper and J. Gregory, Boydell and Brewer for the Ecclesiastical History Society, Studies in Church History, 41 (Woodbridge: Boydell and Brewer, 2005), pp. 192-202.

(55) Only once was a practitioner derided. Pedro Soeiro had a nasty carcinoma on the tip of his nose treated by Master Martinho, 'then a well-known surgeon', who 'by trying to extract the tumour with a very fine scalpel, only succeeded in stirring it up and making it worse': AS, p. 495.

(56) AS, pp. 484-85.

(57) AS, pp. 520-21 and 593-94.

(58) Martinho Esteves had an abscess lanced and bandaged after using dust from Gil's tomb: AS, pp. 555-56.

(59) AS, pp. 558-59.

(60) For medical fees and charity, see Rawcliffe, 'Profits of practice'; Luis Garcia Ballester, 'Medical ethics in transition in the Latin medicine of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries', in Doctors and Ethics: the Earlier Historical Setting of Professional Ethics, ed. by Andrew Wear, Johanna Geyer-Kordesch and Roger French (Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1993), pp. 38-71. Note that several grateful people left wax ex-votos at Gil's shrine in the form of candles, always valuable to a religious house (for example, AS, pp. 485, 490, 494, 580, 587 [plus an offering of wine]), and once in the form

of wax feet after two escaped Muslim slaves were recovered by a Cistercian nunnery in Coimbra (AS, p. 597). The distinction between professional fees and pious donations was probably one of intent rather than of cost, and is a distinction that should be explored further.

(61) Reichert, Vitae fratrum, p. 156.

(62) See AS, pp. 348-53, 368-82, for Gil's visions and ecstatic experiences.

(63) Gil's behaviour could suggest a form of epilepsy, but retrospective diagnosis does not help us understand medieval mentalities.

(64) AS, p. 484.

(65) Aviad M. Kleinberg, Prophets in their own Country: Living Saints and the Making of Sainthood in the Late Middle Ages (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1997).

(66) For example, the cult of Paio de Coimbra, mentioned in Reichert, Vitae fratrum, pp. 294-6, and listed in the catalogue of Dominican saints mentioned above, note 14, is not otherwise recorded.

(67) AS, pp. 504-07.

(68) Valerie I. J. Flint, The Rise of Magic in Early Medieval Europe (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991), pp. 301-28.

(69) There are numerous examples throughout Petrus's Treasury, but Gil's Remedies has only a few (e.g. fol. 46).

(70) Flint, Rise of Magic, pp. 243-50; Finucane, Miracles, pp. 62-63, 89, 94; Rocha Pereira, Obras medicas, pp. 50-52, 81. Rocha Pereira argues that the passage on ligatures in Petrus's prologue is a fourteenth-century interpolation.
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