Following on from my previous post where I gave (what I think is) an Occitan reading of the marginalia on Voynich Manuscript page f17r [“meilhor aller luce[n]t ben balsamina“], I’ve been looking for good sources on Occitan marginalia. My plan for this post is to start searching for all Occitan marginalia and then focus on the period 1400-1450 later once I’ve got a general handle on the broader literature.
Paul Meyer
The first philologist of interest here (I believe) was Paul Meyer (1840–1917), who spent more than forty years tracing the geography and chronology of Provencale-language documents. Having worked his way through the BnF’s Occitan documents (most of which date to the 13th and 14th centuries) and some English libraries’ ones too, he ended up looking at Occitan marginalia.
Interestingly, these marginalia often appeared not in Occitan documents, but in French and Latin documents. Though Meyer doesn’t seem (unless you know better?) to have explicitly expressed it, his opinion appears to have been that even though Southern French scribes typically wrote Latin or French, many (possibly even most?) spoke Occitan.
Even so, finding 15th century Occitan marginalia has proved somewhat unrewarding. One adjacent article I found was Lyudmila Shegoleva’s “Marginal Notes in Latin and Old Occitan in the Bible from the Collection of N. P. Rumyantsev”, but that only relates to some 14th century marginalia, alas.
Jean-Baptiste Camps
So far, the most helpful thing I’ve found is“Les Manuscrits Occitans À La Bibliothèque Nationale De France” (2010), by Jean-Baptiste Camps. Camps follows in Meyer’s footsteps by grinding through all the Occitan documents in the BnF he could find. (He notes ruefully that the BnF’s indexes didn’t make it easy for him.)
Here’s what Camps has to say about scientific texts (my loose translation) [p. 45]:
The inclusion of scientific texts in this inventory of medieval literary manuscripts might seem surprising. However, it is entirely justified. The medieval definition of science may be somewhat disconcerting to us modern positivists; this is because, back then, ‘science’ had no single definition. It mixed astrology and alchemy with mathematics and medicine, and accepted them all as sciences. In these texts, and particularly in the medicinal recipes that fill the margins of many manuscripts, we find medical theory (inspired by the rediscovery of Aristotle via the Arabs) jostling with popular beliefs, which occasionally possess a core of empirical truth. This heterogeneity, which is sometimes found even in the writings of recognized authors,[78] sometimes yielded controversy: consider, for example, the polemic that kicked up at the University of Montpellier in the years 1426–1428, pitting those who proposed using astrology and talismans in medicine, who included innovative physicians such as Nicolas Colne, dean of the faculty of medicine, and Jacques Angeli, against the supporters of a more classical medicine, led by the former University chancellor Jean Piscis and supported by Jean Gerson. The latter group reproached the former for its use of a ‘Lion’ talisman for kidney problems, reigniting a debate that had raged amongst Montpellier’s Jewish physician community a century earlier.[79]
- [78] For example, the Catalan physician Arnaud de Villeneuve; on this subject, see Nicolas Weill-Parot, “Astrologie, médecin et art talismanique à Montpellier : les sceaux astrologiques pseudo–arnaldiens”, in L’Université de médecine de Montpellier et son rayonnement (XIIIe–XIVe siècles), actes du colloque international de Montpellier (Université Paul Valéry–Montpellier iii), 17–19 mai 2001, dir. Daniel Le Blévec, Turnhout, 2004, pp. 157–174.
- [79] Ibid., pp. 157–158.
More specifically, Camps discusses (pp. 45-46) medical texts:
Among all the didactic and scientific texts, medical texts occupy a special place in Occitan literature, because medicine was likely one of the important areas of interest in the Occitan-speaking world. This importance is linked to the role played by southern France in disseminating medical science stemming from the “Toledo corpus” and, through it, Aristotle’s texts transmitted via the Arabs [80]. Montpellier and its university are thought to have played a particularly important role in this process [81]. Most medical writings in the Occitan-speaking world were written in Latin, and only a few were translated into Occitan [82], although it is “not implausible” that teaching in Montpellier – at least at first – took place in Occitan and that various texts were first translated from Arabic into Catalan or Occitan before being translated into Latin [83]. The extant translations we have concern three main areas: surgery, firstly, which was probably forbidden to clerics and stood apart from the rest of the medical field; secondly, anatomy, going hand in hand with the first, perhaps because in Montpellier, they continued to dissect cadavers even after that was prohibited; and finally, recipes, blending scholarly and vernacular influences.
What we said earlier about scientific texts is particularly true for medicine and pharmacy, which combine astrology with recipes of popular origin. The material that constitutes these texts is therefore quite heterogeneous, and led Maria Sofia Corradini Bozzi to say that “the medieval pharmacopoeia, intertwined as it was with herbalism, magic, and popular beliefs, opens up a research perspective whose dimensions and boundaries are often not easily definable.” [84].
These recipes survive in two main forms: firstly, we find them collected in manuscripts from both Languedoc and Provence; or secondly, very often, in the margins and blank folios of manuscripts, generally in Latin, and containing either religious texts (this is the case of the BnF Latin manuscripts 2459 and 2941, but also of the Grenoble manuscript, BM 159), or alchemical texts (BnF Latin manuscript 11202), or legal texts (BnF nouv. acq. fr. manuscript 11151, Bordeaux, BM 355) [85]. These examples, though still relatively little known, have been or are in the process of being edited and published. In terms of their content, while it is true that they sometimes contain elements from oral culture, they are often also “faithful translations of passages from works composed in Latin by medieval authors” [86] and sometimes seek to integrate “the results of the first experiences that were being conducted in the nascent medical schools with notions coming from the classical Greek-Latin tradition, often mediated through the Islamic world” [87]. They may also contain elements relating to major medical discoveries of the medieval period, such as MS Arsenal 8315, which contains on folio 26v a text on the virtues of brandy inspired by the writings of the Catalan Arnold of Villanolva, generally considered its inventor.
- [80] Linda M. Paterson, “La Médecine en Occitanie avant 1250”, in Actes du 1er congrès
international de l’Association internationale d’études occitanes, dir. Peter Ricketts, London, 1987,
pp. 383–399, p. 383. - [81] Ibid.
- [82] At least as many have been translated into Hebrew, Ibid., p. 392.
- [83] Thus, the explicit of the 26th book of the Tesrif of Albucassis, in ms. BnF nouv. acq. lat. 343, indicates “Hic finiuntur XXVIII capitula hujus libri Abulcasim Azaraui in cibariis egritudinem translatus de arabico in vulgari catalanorum et de vulgaris in latinum” ; P. Pansier, “La pratique de l’ophtalmologie dans le Moyen Âge latin”, in Janus, t. 9 (1904), pp. 3–26, p. 7 ; cf. L. M. Paterson, “La Médecine en Occitanie…”, p. 395, note 25.
- [84] Maria Sofia Corradini Bozzi, “La Fachliteratur occitanica : i codici di argomento medico-farmaceutico”, in La Filologia romanza e i codici (atti del convegno, Messina 19–22 dicembre 1991), dir. Saverio Guida et Fortunata Latella, Messine, 1993, t. 2, pp. 731–742, p. 731.
- [85] Ibid., pp. 736–737.
- [86] Ibid., p. 739.
- [87] Ibid., pp. 739–740.
(I should also mention that Camps’ bibliography appears to be an excellent place to work outwards from.)
Occitan recipe marginalia
From Camps’ section on recipes, we can quickly extract a list of mss to look at, and find out their dates:
- BnF Latin 2459 – 13th century
- F.1 “Contra unglas fendudas”
- BnF Latin 2941 – Occitan recipes added in the 14th-15th centuries
- F. 84r-84v Recettes de médecine en provençal : « Recipe goma blanca… »
- Grenoble manuscript, BM 159
- BnF Latin 11202 – 15th century (Gallica images are here)
- Also mentioned on Voynich Ninja by nablator in 2023
- The bibliography includes: D. Kahn, “Littérature et alchimie au Moyen Age : de quelques textes alchimiques attribués à Arthur et à Merlin”, Micrologus, t. 3, 1995, Le crisi dell’alchimia. The Crisis of Alchemy, p. 227-262
- BnF nouv. acq. fr. manuscript 11151
- “Contains an Occitan translation of the Mulomedicina and La recepta del vi”
- See: Borgognoni, Teodorico “Traduction provençale de la Mulomedicina”
- Bordeaux, BM 0355 – 14th century
- Mentioned on JONAS.
- ff. 302v-302v: “Eletouari dels dens… — Eletouari per fer bellas les dens… — Per orinar… — Polvora per apacie colica…”
- See: Maria Sofia CORRADINI BOZZI, « Sulle trace del volgarizzamento occitanico di un erbario latino » in Studi Mediolatini e Volgari, 37 (1991) : pp. 31-132
- See: Maria Sofia CORRADINI BOZZI, « Per l’edizione del corpus delle opere mediche in occitanico e in catalano : nuovo bilancio della tradizione manoscritta e analisi linguistica dei testi » in Studi testuali, 3 (2001)
- See: Maria Sofia Corradini Bozzi, « La letteratura medica medievale in lingua d’oc fra tradizione antica e rinascimento europeo » in El saber i les llengües vernacles a l’època de Llull i Eiximenis. Estudis ICREA sobre vernacularitzacio, Barcelona, Publicacions de l’Abadia de Montserrat, 2012
Where next from here?
Nicely, all of this flapping around eventually managed to lead me to the site I was faintly hoping someone had built (but didn’t actually know about). This turned out to be trobaretz.wordpress.com, which contains links to hundreds of manuscripts containing Occitan texts or fragments.
Also, I have lots of papers by Maria Sofia Corradini Bozzi to track down and read. Which is nice.
Nick,
I hope it’s not wildly off topic, but in your previous post (January 2026) you mention that by the 1500s, at least, more than one type of ‘Balsamiina’ preparation was known. This leads me to wonder whether ‘ben balsamina’ mightn’t refer to preparation which used ben oil (from Moringa oleifera). Its use has has a very long history indeed, one thousands of years older than Aristotle, whose contemporary Theophrastus calls it ‘Balanos’ in his book ‘On Odours’ and prefers it to all others as a vehicle, listing among its many qualities relative lightness
” The oil most used is that derived from the Egyptian or Syrian balanos, since this is the least viscous.”
It is edible, too, being clear and sweet-flavoured. So a ‘ben balsam’ or ‘ben balsamina’ could be possible, though I’d have to do some digging to discover whether ben oil or mixtures including it were being used in Europe.
Work I’m presently engaged in will make it fairly easy to look at the issue of ‘balsam-sellers’ or sellers of remedies being called ‘balsams’ around the 1480s and possibly earlier. (see quoted passage in comment below your post of Jan.22).
I’m curious about whether that Occitan marginalia on f.17 mightn’t mean something like “for more clarity [on this] the best [source] is [a/the] ben Balsamina”.
‘ben’ being Hebrew for ‘son of’ and used both literally and metaphorically, ‘ben balsamina’ might conceivably be the colloquial expression used to mean ‘one of the balsam-selling lot’. Today, Balsamina is a surname, too, though how old a name I don’t know yet; it’s another possible sense for ‘ben Balsamina’.
I’ll be able to look at the economic history question fairly easily in connection with my current (non-Voynich) work. The family-name side of it won’t be so convenient for a while but if I turn up anything which looks useful, I’ll put it in another comment here.
There is a ‘balsam’ bibliography included in Alain Touwaide’s entry ‘Pharmacy’
in
A. Classen (ed.), Handbook of Medieval Studies: terms, methods, trends. 3 vols. Berlin and New York: De Gruyter, 2010.
It consists of two articles by Milwright, viz.
(balsam).
Marcus Milwright, “Balsam in the Mediaeval Mediterranean: A Case Study of Information and Commodity Exchange,” Journal of Mediterranean Archaeology 14 (2001): 3–23;
Id. “The Balsam of Matariyya: An Exploration of a Medieval Panacea,” Bulletin of the School of Oriental and African Studies 66 (2003): 193–209;
In haste… cut-and-paste from the first of Milwright’s articles, which is now at academia.edu.
The four-
teenth-century AD maritime trade manual com-
piled by Balducci Pegolotti (1936: 124, 414)
includes a reference to the various qualities of
oil for sale, while visitors to Cairo also report
that balsam could be purchased in the souks.
Importantly, the commercial ‘balsams’ found in
Cairo and elsewhere also included both adul-
terated versions and cheaper substitutes such as
‘balm of Mecca’, oil of ben, horseradish or olive.
Many travellers’ accounts give details about the
ways in which the genuine oil can be differen-
tiated from these substitutes and fakes (e.g.
Fabri 1843–49: III, 17). These tests, which are
so faithfully recorded in the Mediaeval texts,
are usually drawn in toto from the writings of
Dioscorides ( Materia Medica 1.18; see also dis-
cussion in Riddle 1985: 75-79), and it is open
to question whether they were ever applied by
consumers in the markets of Cairo. Greek and
Arabic medical texts also make clear that other
oils could be used for specific preparations when
genuine balsam was not available (Levey 1971:
16, 30, 42, 49, 51)
Cheers
‘Ben’ used of the oil in medieval Europe
Etymology given as
BEN – In the sense of a tree, the Moringa oleifera or horseradish tree of Arabia and India, which produces oil of ben. (and other senses): From Middle English been, from Old French and Medieval Latin, probably from a North African pronunciation of Arabic بَان (bān, “ben tree”).
Don’t know if it was used in Occitan, though as the everyday language and thus language of the markets I should expect to see it.
Other uses of ‘ben’ include Middle English ben, bene, from Old English bēn meaning a favour, or prayer. There is also the Middle English ben, meaning bene, as variation of bin, binne (“within”), from Old English binnan (“within, in, inside of, into”), equivalent to be- + in.
Of course, these possibilities doesn’t prevent its being meant as ‘ben’ from the Arabic or Hebrew meaning ‘son of’.
Hope this helps.
The only time I find, at present, for mulling over a ‘Voynich’ problem is during peak-hour traffic jams.
Today the ‘luz’ with nasalisation leads me to ask if the Spanish ‘luz’ (light) is attested in an Occitain dialect by the mid-fourteenth century and why the Latin ‘luce’ would be written with a ‘z’ by anyone accustomed to write Latin.
Are there other possibilities? I think of the “fleur de luce” which is often said to derive from the name of the river Lys (hence ‘fleur de lys’), but that may be an erroneous derivation, since the flower is the Iris (“orris”), a flower that likes swampy ground and in Old French is the form ‘Luz’ as official or standardised version of a dialect term which meant marsh, swamp, or mud.
Following paras are from a wiki article whose sources are included.
*Saint-Jean-de-Luz* (French: [sɛ̃ ʒɑ̃ d(ə) lyz]; Occitan: Sent Joan de Lutz; Basque: Donibane Lohitzune, locally Donibane Lohizune [doniˈβane lohiˈs̻une])/
Etymology. Saint-Jean-de-Luz is the French adaptation of the Labourdine Basque Donibane Lohizune – from done ‘saint’, Ibane ‘John’ and *lohi ‘mud’ + -z ‘made of’*+ -une ‘place of’; thus meaning ‘Saint John’s swamp’. It is a common misconception that Luz would be the Spanish word for ‘light’.
The town is named after the frequent floodings which occurred in the area over the centuries.[8]
[The Place.] Saint-Jean-de-Luz is a commune in the Pyrénées-Atlantiques department, southwestern France, part of the former Basque province of Labourd (Lapurdi).
from wiki.en ‘Saint-Jean-de-Luz.
The ‘swamp’ flower’s root was made into one of those sloppy, viscous mixtures called a ‘mud’ pr a ‘butter’ in today’s cosmetics. This is perhaps quite irrelevant to folio 17’s line of marginalia, but I add this for interest’s sake, from a post by the Met.Museum.
“The fresh rhizomes of iris, which are at least three years old before they are dug, do not develop their characteristic scent of violets until they have been dried and aged for at least two and up to five years. The rhizomes are then distilled, and a thick, oily compound known as iris butter is produced. ”
from:
https://blog.metmuseum.org/cloistersgardens/2010/05/18/orris-and-iris/
and now, as the traffic seems about to move, a final thought.. how did fourteenth-century speakers of Occitain dialects pronounce/write our ‘Lausanne’, a flourishing market centre for much of the medieval era and long considered to belong to France, to Burgundy etc.,
“From 888 to 1032, the initially relatively small town belonged to the Kingdom of Upper Burgundy. During the 11th century, Lausanne developed into a political, economic and religious center. The city became the center of the secular rule of the bishops. In the period that followed, especially in the 12th and 13th centuries, Lausanne flourished. In 1275, the Lausanne Cathedral was consecrated..
and so onward..
P.S. I’m not suggesting the image on f.17 was meant to represent one or more types of iris.
MS 408.
https://www.reddit.com/r/VoynichGenealogie/comments/1rruect/voynich_manuscript_czech_homopfonic_substitution/