As any study of the English Middle Ages would be incomplete without a discussion of the single most life-changing, society-altering event since the Norman Conquest, today’s class was devoted to the Black Death. Needless to say, it was a very cheery class (read this sentence with heavy sarcasm!). Even today, nearly seven hundred years after the first major outbreak of the bubonic plague in Europe, people are still intimidated by the disease; I know this to be true, for I am one of them. While modern medicine and sanitation has likely eliminated the threat of a plague pandemic, the statistics of 1348-1350 remain stark and devastating. Historians still do not know exactly how many people perished, due to the plague, as record keeping in the Middle Ages was not extremely thorough; however, enough accounts survive to allow them to estimate that around 40% of Europe’s population died. This is a massive death toll, but the scale of the death alone is not sufficient to explain the societal upheaval and chaos in the years following the Black Death. What truly shocked society was the rapidity of death once one contracted the plague, as well as the fact that the plague struck all levels of society; in other words, the king and the serfs were equally threatened by the disease. As historians are liable to do, I will begin by posing two major questions about the Black Death: first, where did it come from? And, second, how did it change the face of medieval Europe?
In the fourteenth century, there was no modern understanding of disease; doctors had no knowledge of viruses or bacteria, and were more inclined to believe that sickness was caused by bad air. Indeed, this was the single-most widespread explanation of the plague: it was somehow caused by bad air. However, this was by no means the only method medieval Europeans used to explain events that were beyond their control. Some people blamed God for the Black Death, arguing that he had brought it upon mankind as punishment for their sins. In an early outbreak of virulent anti-Semitism in Europe, others blamed the Jews for the plague, as there was an erroneous perception that Jews were not dying as fast as Christians; from this, people assumed that the Jews had poisoned the wells of Christians, bringing the plague upon them. In the Rhineland and several German states, this belief led to what could likely be called early pogroms, as Christians murdered the Jewish population of several cities. For instance, in Strasbourg, around 2000 Jews were massacred in February 1349. In my opinion, this serves as a sobering reminder that anti-Semitism is not a modern phenomenon, confined to Tsarist Russia or Nazi Germany; rather, it has been with us for years and will continue to be, if current events are any indication.
So, if bad air and religious prejudices did not cause the plague, then what did? The answer is a bacillus, Yersinia pestis, which is carried by rat fleas and the rats on which the fleas reside; however, interestingly, the homeland of Yersinia pestis is likely southern China or northern India, not Europe. This discovery raises the important question of how a central Asian bacillus made its way to Europe, where it did such damage, before the advent of modern transportation. The most likely scenario has to do with overland trade (the Silk Road) from Asia to eastern Europe, which was controlled by the Mongolians. Around 1330, scientists and historians believe that the rat population exploded in central Asia, providing a large number of carriers for rat fleas, and, thus, for the plague bacillus. As the Mongolian traders moved westward, they brought the plague with them, infecting new areas until they got to the European trading ports in the Crimea. These ports were controlled by Italian traders from Genoa and Venice; unfortunately for Europe, these Italian traders and the Mongols were at war in 1347, with the Mongols laying siege to the city of Caffa. In an early example of bacterial warfare, the Mongols threw the bodies of those who had died of the plague over the city walls, thus infecting the Italians living there.
As can be expected when confronted with a strange new disease, as well as a hostile army laying siege, the Italians fled back to Genoa and Venice, taking the plague with them, as the rats and fleas traveled on the ships as well. Thus, the first point of entry of the Black Death into western and central Europe was Italy, from late 1347 to early 1348. From Italy, the plague began to spread quickly, striking Spain, Portugal, France, and England by the summer of 1348; turning eastward, it then spread to the German states, Scandinavia, and Russia from 1348-1350. All of a sudden, because of war and trade, Europe was being devastated by the Black Death, so named because of the appearance of buboes, which appeared black, in a patient’s neck, armpits, and groin. The rapidity of death was astonishing: most people who became ill were death within a week. Moreover, the death rate was highest in cities, where overcrowded conditions and lack of sanitation supported a high rat population, allowing the disease to continue spreading. Additionally, monasteries were incredibly hard-hit, due to the communal lifestyle of the monks. The more people died, the more unstable society became, as the plague was indiscriminate in its victims, striking rich and poor, weak and powerful.
However, in times of great instability, there is the opportunity for great societal change; this was certainly true of 1348-1350, as the Black Death absolutely destroyed the feudal system in several countries. As this is a class about the English Middle Ages, I will focus on England from here on out. In England, like the rest of Europe, before the plague, serfs had been tied to their masters’ land, unable to leave in search of new jobs, to travel freely, or even to marry without permission. With the coming of the plague, though, aristocrats and landlords began to die, leaving the serfs without anyone to control them, especially since entire families tended to be devastated by the disease. In this power vacuum, serfs seized their opportunity, moving off the land upon which their families had lived for generations in search of new jobs. Furthermore, the death of so many laborers worked in the surviving serfs’ favor, as it created a great scarcity of labor; suddenly, those peasants who lived had a valuable commodity for sale: their labor. In the years following the Black Death, landlords were forced to begin paying their former serfs wages, turning the entire organization of work in medieval England on its head.
As anyone reading this can probably guess, the effects of the Black Death upon English society did not stop with the destruction of the feudal system, but rather continued for the next century or more. For instance, efforts in the 1350s to return wages to pre-plague levels created great dissatisfaction among the common people, which culminated in the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381. This was no mere country uprising, though, as an army of peasants marched on London, striking at the two centers of medieval power: the church and the king. For instance, the Savoy Palace, home of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster was completely destroyed, indicating displeasure with the power of the aristocracy, as John of Gaunt was not only the wealthiest magnate in England, but also de facto head of government, due to Richard II’s youth. In terms of the church, the peasant army executed the Archbishop of Canterbury, demonstrating the beginning of anger over the great wealth of the Catholic Church. While the Peasants’ Revolt by no means caused the Protestant Reformation, the connection between the two (anger at the Catholic Church) illustrates the fact that the issues brought to the forefront by Martin Luther and others had been fomenting for quite some time.
While I could go on about the effects of the Black Death for quite some time (indeed, one could write entire books about this), I will stop for now and move to a happier topic: punting. After class today, the entire group headed out to the River Cam to try our hands at the art of punting. Unlike rowing, canoeing, or kayaking, which all involve sitting in a boat to steer it down a river, the punter stands at the back of a rather large, quite heavy wooden boat, then attempts to move it in the water with an enormous stick. The technique involves jabbing the stick in the river bottom, then pushing the boat down the river; turning, which I never quite got the hang of, is achieved by putting the stick behind the boat like a sort of rudder. All in all, punting was a wonderful experience, though I much preferred being punted than actually doing the punting. With more practice, I think doing the punting could be fun, but I do not have nearly enough upper body strength to be a successful punter at this point in time. Beyond experiencing a true Oxbridge tradition, the best part of punting was getting to see a new part of Cambridge: the Backs. Floating down the river, I got to see the backs of colleges such as Queen’s, King’s, and Clare, as well as the Bridge of Sighs. If I studied at Cambridge, I would love to be at a college that backs up to the river, so that I could study with a wonderful view of the water; I think that would be quite relaxing.
After managing to dock our punts mostly successfully (my punt was back first, no thanks to me!), Hadyn and I ate lunch at a Sicilian café, which was very good. I had a delicious sandwich on focaccia bread, with mozzarella cheese, prosciutto, and cherry tomatoes. Once we finished lunch, we headed out to do some souvenir shopping, as our time in Cambridge is quickly coming to an end. I bought some Cambridge postcards to add to my very large collection and a University of Cambridge sweatshirt, but nothing else. The rest of the afternoon was devoted to blogging; this evening, we were going to see Othello at the Cambridge Shakespeare Festival, but it began to pour right before we were going to leave, so we decided to rain check (literally). However, tomorrow Hadyn and I will get our Shakespeare fix: we are going to London to see Julius Caesar at the Globe Theatre!