With time, the legendary literature of the magnet became abundant and in some respects amusing. Thus we read of the "flesh" magnet endowed with the extraordinary power of adhering to the skin and even of drawing the heart out of a man; the "gold" magnet which would attract particles of the precious metal from an admixture of sand; the "white" magnet used as a philter; magnetic unguents of various kinds, one of which, when smeared over a bald head, would make the hair grow; magnetic plasters for the relief of headache; magnetic applications to ease toothaches and dispel melancholy; magnetic nostrums to cure the dropsy, to quell disputes and even reconcile husband and wife. No less fictitious was the pernicious effect on the lodestone attributed in the early days of the mariner's compass to onions and garlic; and yet, so deeply rooted was the belief in this figment that sailors, while steering by the compass, were forbidden the use of these vegetables lest by their breath they might intoxicate the "index of the pole" and turn it away from its true pointing. More reasonable than this prohibition was the maritime legislation of certain northern countries for the protection of the lodestone on shipboard. According to this penal code, a sailor found guilty of tampering with the lodestone used for stroking the needles, was to have the guilty hand held to a mast of the ship by a dagger thrust through it until, by tearing the flesh away, he wrenched himself free.
It was only at the time of the Crusades that people in Europe began to recognize the directive property of the magnet, in virtue of which a freely suspended compass-needle takes up a definite position relatively to the north-and-south line, property which is serviceable to the traveler on land and supremely useful to the navigator on sea.
It is commonly said that the compass was introduced into Europe by the returning Crusaders, who heard of it from their Mussulman foes. These, in turn, derived their knowledge from the Chinese, who are credited with its use on sea as far back as the third century of our era.[1]
Among the earliest references to the sailing compass is that of the trouvère Guyot de Provins,[2] who wrote, about the year 1208, a satirical poem of three thousand lines, in which the following passage occurs:
The mariners employ an art which cannot deceive.
An ugly stone and brown,
To which iron joins itself willingly
They have; after applying a needle to it,
They lay the latter on a straw
And put it simply in the water
Where the straw makes it float.
Then the point turns direct.
To the star with such certainty
That no man will ever doubt it,
Nor will it ever go wrong.
When the sea is dark and hazy,
That one sees neither star nor moon,
Then they put a light by the needle
And have no fear of losing their way.
The point turns towards the star;
And the mariners are taught
To follow the right way.
It is an art which cannot fail.
The author was a caustic and fearless critic, who lashed with equal freedom the clergy and laity, nobles and princes, and even the reigning pontiff himself, all of whom should be for their subjects, according to the satirist, what the pole-star is for mariners—a beacon to guide them over the stormy sea of life.
Guyot traveled extensively in his early years, but later in life retired from a world which he despised, and ended his days in the peaceful seclusion of the Benedictine Abbey of Cluny.
An interesting reference, of a similar nature to that of the minstrel Guyot, is found in the Spanish code of laws known as Las Siete Partidas of Alfonso el Sabio, begun in 1250 and completed in 1257. It says:
"And even as mariners guide themselves in the dark night by the needle, which is their connecting medium between the lodestone and the star, and thus shows them where they go alike in bad seasons as in good; so those who are to give counsel to the king ought always to guide themselves by justice, which is the connecting medium between God and the world, at all times to give their guerdon to the good and their punishment to the Wicked, to each according to his deserts."[3]
It will be necessary to give a few more extracts from writers of the first half of the thirteenth century in order to show how little was known about the magnet and how crude were the early appliances used in navigation when Peregrinus appeared on the scene.