Philip did not invoke the so-called ‘Salic Law’

Even so, the assembly’s decision was not unreasonable. Made to choose between a little girl of dubious parentage supported by the lord of a far-off territory, on the one hand, and an adult man of certain pedigree who was now anointed with the heavenly chrism, on the other, they understandably approved Philip accession. But they also recognized Philip’s eight-month-old son Louis-Philip as heir to the realm. That act transformed what might have been a one-off decision into an enduring principle. ‘And so,’ concluded the chroniclers at Saint-Denis, ‘it was declared that women do not succeed in the kingdom of France.’ A verdict of monumental importance, the consequences of this flat denial of a woman’s right to rule France have echoed down the centuries, even to the present day. But opposition lingered, for Philip’s claim, said a chronicler, ‘could not be easily proven’. Indeed, there was no proof. Philip did not invoke the so-called ‘Salic Law’, a long-defunct sixth-century legal compilation which had little relevance to the case at hand. The first such reference to the Salic Law did not come until forty years later, and it was rarely cited until the fifteenth century. Unsubstantiated as well as unprecedented, Philip’s power-play worried some people and angered others.

J. Firnhaber-Baker, House of Lilies: The Dynasty that Made Medieval France (2024), loc. 5,495

He outlawed using torture ‘even against poor people’

Louis’s approach to justice was undoubtedly advanced for his time. He outlawed using torture ‘even against poor people’ in Languedoc because it induced false confessions, and he forbade deciding cases through judicial duel in his own lands, instructing his officers to consult witnesses and documents instead of having the parties square off. But Louis made these changes not only because he wanted his courts to use a better standard of proof, but also because he abhorred violence (between Christians anyway).

J. Firnhaber-Baker, House of Lilies: The Dynasty that Made Medieval France (2024), loc. 4,171

Fifteen men had sworn it was the truth, even if ten of them were suspect witnesses

‘Mala Francia! Mala Francia!’ (‘Wicked France! Wicked France!’), cried the Danish princess.1 Having spent only three months in the kingdom, Ingeborg of Denmark had as yet little French and had to fall back on Latin to express her pain and anger. Her interpreter had just translated the sentence of the bishops and barons who had assembled in the royal hall at Compiègne in November 1193 to investigate her genealogy. They had said that she could not be married to King Philip for they had found her too closely related to his first wife somehow. They were a little vague about the ‘how’ – and later they had to admit they’d made it up – but fifteen men had sworn it was the truth, even if ten of them were suspect witnesses.

J. Firnhaber-Baker, House of Lilies: The Dynasty that Made Medieval France (2024), loc.2,653

The first European heretics ever to be burned alive were executed by his order and in his presence

Educated in the liberal arts by Gerbert at his mother’s direction, he knew Scripture and canon law so well that he presided over Church councils and passed judgement alongside the bishops. The first European heretics ever to be burned alive were executed by his order and in his presence. Robert was also twice divorced, constantly at war, and once tried to burn down a monastery because it was in his way. His heart was tender and his disposition kindly, but the times were less hospitable to lovers than to fighters.

J. Firnhaber-Baker, House of Lilies: The Dynasty that Made Medieval France (2024), loc.899

I tried to recall all the information I knew about love

I tried to recall all the information I knew about love. Unfortunately this information didn’t amount to much. Although more than thirteen years of my life had passed, up to that moment I’d never seen anyone in love. At that time very few books about love or descriptions of the condition of people in love had been printed. Besides, they wouldn’t have let us read any of them.

Iraj Pezeshkzad, tr. D. Davis, My Uncle Napoleon (1973), loc.248

As the D-Day landings were hitting the beach, only 36 per cent of the British people thought the government could be trusted

Even in the summer of 1944, as the D-Day landings were hitting the beach, only 36 per cent of the British people thought the government could be trusted to put the country’s interest above their own individual or party’s interest

B. Duffy, The perils of perception (2018), loc. 3,228

Countless experiments show that around 10 per cent of the public don’t understand simple percentages.

MRI studies of the brains of humans (and monkeys!) indicate that we have an inbuilt ‘number sense’, but we are particularly attuned to the numbers one, two and three, and, beyond that, to detecting large (not small) differences in comparing numbers of an object. We often fall back on these evolutionary number skills. But much of life involves calculations that are more complex than comparing the relative size of small numbers. A century ago the great science fiction writer H. G. Wells said: … endless social and political problems are only accessible and only thinkable to those who have had a sound training in mathematical analysis, and the time may not be very remote when… for complete initiation as an efficient citizen of one of the new great complex world-wide States that are now developing, it is as necessary to be able to compute, to think in averages and maxima and minima, as it is now to be able to read and write. Wells’s reference to how important mathematical understanding is to ‘endless social and political problems’ seems made for our times, but we’ve got a long way to go before we’ll completely satisfy his vision. Countless experiments show that around 10 per cent of the public don’t understand simple percentages.

For example, if you spin a coin twice, what’s the probability of getting two heads? The answer is 25 per cent, because there are four equal-probability outcomes: two heads, two tails, heads then tails and tails then heads. Worryingly, only one in four people in a nationally representative survey got this right

B. Duffy, The perils of perception (2018), loc. 325 & 340