Medical Merchandising and Legal Procedure in Late Sixteenth-Century Spain: The Case of Petroleum as Imported Medicine

Summary This article examines the historical context and particular case of Italian merchant Guido Mondones (also named as ‘Modones’) who sold petroleum as medicine in Spain in the late sixteenth century. The first two-thirds of the article uses printed sources as a way to demonstrate that this merchant was likely not disadvantaged by being a foreigner and itinerant. Nor would he have been considered a suspect for selling oil with healing properties, as it was a fully accepted practice, including among university-trained professionals. All the materials for Mondones’s particular case are archival and contained within a lawsuit from Valladolid that contains a wealth of information about the merchant’s relationship with legal and medical authorities. Through these sources, we learn that he managed to be financially successful by navigating Spain’s particular medical–legal landscape at the time and skillfully defending himself against accusations of tax evasion and selling false medicine.

In 2014, the editors of Medical Cultures of the Early Modern Spanish Empire warned that: Academic medicine was not the predominant or most pervasive medical culture in the early modern Spanish empire. In light of this, we believe it to be necessary to interrogate the way historians have generally constructed medical hegemonies and hierarchies in order to make room for conceptualizations of order that may be nonhegemonic, temporary, fluid, and even unstable. Reducing early modern Spanish medical history to an oscillating binary (academic medicine falls while extraacademic medicine rises) is not the answer. Instead, it is necessary to have a broad understanding of the medical cultures operative in specific locales at particular times . . . 1 Dr Ted L.L. Bergman is a Lecturer in Spanish at the University of St Andrews. He has published widely on early modern Spanish theatre, mainly focusing on humour or criminality and is currently working on a book about lawbreaking, peacekeeping and theatricality. Dr Bergman's latest research area is popular medicine, charlatans and performance in Early Modern Spain, and he was awarded a Wellcome Trust Medical Humanities Small Grant to pursue this research. David Gentilcore's terms, since Mondones was wealthy and produced his own handbill (as would a 'merchant-charlatan') but did not concoct his own medicine (as neither would a 'pedlar-charlatan'). 6 By confronting this difficult categorisation, we are forced to reckon with the exact details of the merchant's social, legal and commercial status. In this way, the strict labels of 'false doctor', 'charlatan' and 'pedlar' that populate fictional or anecdotal printed accounts are revealed as inadequate to sum up the variety of experience in extra-academic practice. The second goal of the article is to explain the importance of the legal system in Mondones's success, how he turned obstacles into advantageous safeguards against legal prosecution. At first glance, lawsuits related to extra-academic practice in the Spanish archives may seem to reinforce stereotypes of deviousness, of charlatans' false promises; but Mondones's case reveals how much the law could be on a practitioner's side, especially when the defendant was assisted by expert medical opinion. The third goal, related to the second, is to tell a possibly exemplary tale of a medical salesman from Italy who, according on the available evidence, could hardly be called a marginalised figure. Based on stereotypical portrayals in the theatre of the time, to be an itinerant merchant and a foreigner in Spain might seem like two strong reasons not to be taken seriously, but Mondones's case proves otherwise. 7 I write 'possibly exemplary tale' because this article is structured to show that Mondones was likely not alone. The final third of this article uses his specific case to start on the path to reaching the three goals stated earlier. The first two-thirds seek to provide sufficient background to demonstrate that there were several factors in place, such as the legal system, the integration of Italian practitioners in Spain and a tradition of selling simple oil as a remedy, that allowed for Mondones's success and that this success could be duplicated by others who were often extra-academic in background. Certainly, until we find more cases much like Mondones's, it is wise to temper some of this zeal for generalisation. This study is laid out to encourage others to seek examples that confirm the need for the research demanded in the quotation used at the start of this article. Lastly, for specialists in the history of medicine in Spain, this study provides one of the few original accounts on the practical use (supply, demand, legal status) of petroleum in Spain that historiography has recently seen.
Because the majority rarely wrote its own history, we must look beyond the written treatises of elite physicians to find it. For many of those who made their living through medicine without an officially regulated training, their story remains to be told. Handwritten legal documents such as lawsuits contain a wealth of information and provide a valuable counterpoint that supplements the study of published sources and can also be used to examine the day-to-day consequences of plying one's trade far from home. 8 By studying the medical-legal landscape of late sixteenth-century Spain and The gabacho (a derogatory term for Frenchman) pedlar was the typical staple, but even gabachos could mix some Italian into their comical jargon onstage, a reminder that Italian-ness could be equally strong as a marker of foreignness. 8 Some historians have given up on telling these stories, while others thankfully have not. 'The medical ideas of the lower classes, consisting largely of "out-ofdate" or "misunderstood elite medicine," were part of the medical penumbra. For a culture that was based on oral tradition and collective memory, the problem for the historian is always going to be one of examples of well-known Italian practitioners who sought their fortune abroad, it will become clear that the law could create obstacles as much as it could offer protection. A successful merchandiser of medicine in Spain needed to make the system work for him or her. To gain maximum advantage in the marketplace, it was necessary to turn public victories into both promotional material and a storehouse of documents for future legal defence. Written sources on medicinal petroleum and medicinal oils in general provide further evidence of how a merchant for such cures could use medical and legal precedents outside of his or her own experience for self-promotion and protection in a court of law. Before we arrive at Guido Mondones and his 'oli petroli', it is useful to provide some historical background and cases from printed sources to show that his story is not that of an outlier but rather of a man who would have felt at home, commercially and legally, while abroad. Selling rock oil in early modern Spain was not the same thing as selling 'snake oil' today, and there is no evidence that Mondones was shunned or seen as a fake by professionals. In fact, when he was accused of fakery, it was professional physicians who defended the purity and efficacy of the Italian's medicinal petroleum. Professional jealousy among medical practitioners in Spain could be felt on all levels, but there were occasions when different actors saw their jobs as belonging to a separate yet complementary sphere of influence, as we shall see in the next section of this study. Mondones must have anticipated antagonism and legal entanglements as he sold his medicine, but he would not have been entirely surprised to find some mutual understanding between merchants and physicians since it also occurred in his home country of Italy. 9 As María Luz Ló pez Terrada and Alvar Martínez Vidal succinctly state: In Despite its great authority, it was impossible for the Protomedicato to control every aspect of medicine. 11 Two quotes from dialogues found in Enrique Jorge Enríquez's Portrait of the Perfect Physician (1595) give a contemporary account of how the system was far from perfect: What I am mocking are the wretches who in the streets, on the corners, and in the herbalists shops shout and claim that they have knowledge from medical authorities and that they know them by heart, so that the common people take them for wise men. They take the patient's pulse, then they say some half-Latin word, and presenting the patient with his urine they say 'oppilatio', giving it dozens of swirls: all of which is against all the laws of medicine ['regla de la Physica'], so that with these fabrications and tricks they deceive the common people. For the most part, these [practitioners] are a bunch of charlatans, prattlers, and buffoons ['charlatanes, habladores, juglares'], all of a quality that no perfect physician should have. 12 These words from the Licenciado character in the dialogue are more than typically broad prose satire. They must be seen in the context of some very specific criticism that appears later in the book: . . .and [Galen] asks that the Physician consider that . . . he is not dealing with stones, bricks, sticks, and skins, like other artisans. And for all this I see that the illustrious and noble protomédicos can easily give two thousand idiots in this kingdom a license to cure, and to deal in things touching on such an excellent craft. If this is not remedied, why do we dedicate so much study and spend so much money on Philosophy and Medicine? 13 Enríquez's complaint is an academic doctor's personal invective aimed at empirics, but it also sits within a broader and longer lasting debate about competing jurisdictions and medical authority in Spain. 14 In 1523, the Cortes of Valladolid were at the centre of conflicting control over practice. Despite the establishment of the Protomedicato: . . .[the Cortes] make it known to Your Majesty that the protomé dicos, for a modest price and out of self interest, give licences to unqualified people with little experience in surgery or medicine, resulting in great harm and damage. Therefore, we ask Your Majesty to order that those physicians and surgeons licenced by the aforementioned protomé dicos be reexamined by the authorities and aldermen in the place where those physicians and surgeons practice their profession. This same document also demands that inside a radius of five leagues from the Court, the Protomedicato examine and grant licenses to 'physicians, surgeons, apothecaries, and barbers'; but the institution is not to meddle with licensing 'faith healers [ensalmadores], nor midwives, nor spice merchants, nor druggists'. 16 Following the Cortes's request, the law of the land was aimed at separating extra-academic practitioners-whom Enríquez calls 'wretches' shouting in the street-from the true professionals, namely surgeons, apothecaries and barbers with their respectively documented qualifications. And yet local authorities were not satisfied to simply regulate the least qualified of practitioners. Thirty-five years later in 1558, the Cortes in Valladolid returned with new demands, including a stringent set of requirements and compulsory paperwork for examining physicians. It was imperative that 'apothecaries, barbers, druggists, and midwives be licensed by the local authorities and aldermen in the cities or towns where they are to practice their profession, and that those carrying out the licensing exam include two knowledgeable and experienced physicians. . . '. 17 In this same petition, the local authorities insisted upon their own jurisdiction as much as possible. 'We petition Your Majesty that henceforth he not provide the said protomé dicos, and that he order that there be no more: and if one were already provided, that the protomé dico be suspended or revoked'. 18 The legislative and jurisdictional wrangling was unending, and within five years, the protomé dico himself stepped forward to respond to legal overreach at the local level. During the Cortes in 1563, he complained that: . . .some places, especially the city of Granada, had given licences to people for healing, and not only to practice in their own areas, but outside of them, throughout the kingdom; and this is a most damaging thing that goes against the preeminence of His This is the background against which one can imagine thousands-if we are to believe Dr Enríquez-of medical practitioners of all sorts plying their trade. These individuals could either be university-trained physicians, master apothecaries and surgeons with documented training or people occupying a grey area among the 'charlatans, prattlers and buffoons' that Dr Enríquez railed against. All practitioners, whose training and knowledge varied greatly, needed more than their medical skills in order to make a living, something Guido Mondones must have known well in his study of the medical-legal landscape. He needed to skillfully navigate this terrain in his quest for required paperwork, not just to make a living but to defend himself against prosecution or harassment. Some medical practitioners enjoyed widespread fame and a reputation that preceded them, while others were smaller operators who relied more on their wits and salesmanship 16 Ibid., 54. 17 Ibid., 64. 18 Ibid., 62. 19 Actas de las Cortes de Castilla: Contiene las de Madrid, celebradas el año 1563, 2 vols (Madrid: Imprenta nacional, 1861-62), I, 104. than a medical degree or royal bona fides. To this latter category, we can more safely apply the label 'charlatan'. 20 In a 1588 treatise, Francisco Díaz reflects upon the successful legacy of a certain surgeon named Doctor Romano. Díaz laments that few have really benefitted from the example that the good surgeon provided in curing urinary tract infections. Worse than that, those seeking relief were obligated to 'flee from charlatans, as these only show proficiency in the tongue, and in their boldness. Since they are foreigners and speak in an obscure manner, it seems like they are saying something, but it is really a mess of words ['de do diere'] . . .'. 21 In his moral treatise La philosophia vulgar (1568), Juan de Mal Lara glosses a lesson on bluster taken from Aesop's fables with the story of a confrontation between a recent medical graduate and charlatan selling medicine in the town square. Mal Lara's anecdote explicitly uses the word 'charlatá n', and the figure in question defeats his more qualified opponent by undermining the doctor's confidence and turning the audience against the man with a medical degree. When the opponent cannot respond to the charlatan's foreign phrases in German and Flemish, which supposedly represent 'the authorities of the original texts in Arabic and Greek', the crowd gathers around the vanquished physician and shouts at him to go home and study. 22 The use of 'foreign phrases' reminds us that charlatans in Spain could come from anywhere and even misrepresent their nationality as a means of self-promotion. 23 And yet, as a place of origin, Italy stands out in the case of non-native charlatans and not only because the word itself is Italian in origin. Written descriptions and documented cases indicate that this particular profession and particular nationality, while by no means synonymous, were heavily associated in the early modern Spanish imagination. An example from the lexicographer Sebastían de Covarrubias demonstrates how the association goes beyond etymology and into the realm of public perception.
'Charlatan' is an Italian word . . . Charlatans are certain people who go about the world: known by another name as saltaenbanchi, because in the town squares they stand upon a table of the sort meant for selling wares, and sometimes with a guitar or viola they sing some song. They usually bring with them a zanne, which in Spain is like Foolish John ['Juan Bobo'] who, with a half-mask and a linen garment, dances and has some funny dialogues with his master. After this, when people have come and gathered, the charlatan opens his box and takes out different little bottles of oils, salves, herbs, roots, and stones: there is no sickness that they do not cure. 24 Flavio Biondo that 'In our times, the number of these charlatans grew to such an extent that they spread like a weed through all the cities of Italy where one finds a great quantity of them'. 25 Suá rez's version parallels the original brief sketch of how charlatans captivate their audience, but then he diverges from Garzoni's account.
After a long speech that lasts more than two hours . . . [the charlatans] propose to sell small balls of soap, conserves for fortifying gums and teeth, grease made from veal or kid, what they call pomada, unguent for scabies or for burns, and things like that. They sing the infinite praises ['Encaraman su virtud todo lo posible'] of these medicines, setting various prices for them, until they name the lowest, at which point people start to throw them money tied to handkerchiefs. 26 These additional details could easily portray migrant Italian charlatans' within Spain, perhaps a cohort from those who 'spread like a weed' in their home country and sought less competition abroad. It is also possible that the charaltans in Suarez's descriptions were not always Italian. Some may have simply exploited an air of Italianness that was part of successful salesmanship, much like the charlatan in Mal Lara's anecdote cited above who used German and Flemish phrases to bolster his authority. Whether or not they assumed an Italian identity or were authentic, it seems like many merchants of medicine in Spain saw no problem with presenting themselves as Italian despite written objections to them being a 'weed' that had spread too far.
Not all such figures were at the mercy of others' descriptions on the printed page. Some let their own voice be heard through printed advertising leaflets, as we shall see in the case of Guido Mondones and others further. Others went far beyond shouting and leafleting in the town square and invested heavily in the printing side of things. As an example, we find Alessandro Quintilio, who started out in Naples and traveled to Portugal and Spain before settling in Madrid, where he published a work on his 'quintessence-ofgold powder'. This book-length advertisement from 1607, full of testimonials and selfpromotion, went through a second edition in 1609 that was subsequently reprinted in 1616. 27 Quintilio neglected to mention in his first edition that the powder was not his invention, but rather that of Vittorio Algarotti, whose medicine Quintilio distributed and who was himself an outsized promoter of his product. 28 While Algarotti graduated in medicine from the University of Padua and later joined the College of Physicians in his home city of Verona, Quintilio appears to be nothing more than a salesman and follower. 29 In this way, he belonged to an extensive tradition of Italian extra-academics who exploited others' books of secrets. 30  Gentilcore, Medical Charlatanism in Early Modern Italy, 360. Rodríguez Guerrero explains how Quintilio, '. . .since he was no physician, nor familiar with medical theories, was forced to copy the arguments of his predecessor'. Rodríguez Guerrero, 'La Primera Gran Red Comercial', 47-48. But since Quintilio did not hide the fact that his copies were translated from Italian, it would be difficult to condemn him-then or now-for an extreme transgression like a 'cat's cradle of forgery and plagiarism, imitation and translation'. Nick Groom, 'Forgery, his pre-emptive defences against accusations of fakery by citing legal challenges from which he had arisen victorious. He proudly stated in his 1616 edition's introductory summary: For twenty-two years, Alexandro has administered these powders in the capital ['la Corte'], always by the grace of Our Lord, always with great success, and has done so for sixteen years with licence from His Majesty's protomé dicos. On two different occasions, the Protomedicato's prosecutors ['fiscales'] have wished to speak out against the aforementioned powders, after which he was absolved by both, and freed from the motions against him. 31 Guido Mondones, whose case will be examined extensively at the end of this article, would have relied upon a general acceptance of Italian practitioners in the Iberian Peninsula and not necessarily suffered any setbacks by virtue of his foreign-ness. In any situation in which he was seen as an unwanted interloper, his vigorous defence was unlikely exceptional, considering the example of Quintilio earlier.
The migration of Italian charlatans to the Iberian Peninsula has yet to be exhaustively documented, and there is insufficient space to do so here. At the same time, there is documentary evidence to suggest that this is an avenue of research worth pursuing further. For example, in David Gentilcore's database of Italian charlatan licences, we find a certain Domenico Manecatto from Pesaro, who in 1594 obtained a license in Siena for selling 'terra maltese (earth)' and 'powder for teeth'. In 1597, a Domenico Menegati from Pesaro was licensed in Venice to sell a 'secret for burns'. 32 In 1614, according to the records of the Archivo del Reino de Valencia, there is a 'Licence given in Valencia, granted by the doctors Jeroni Garcia and Melcior de Villena, royal examiners of the city of Valencia, in favour of the Italian, Domingo Manegati from Pesaro, after he had presented documents accrediting the practice of his profession in other kingdoms and that he had been licenced ['examinado'].' 33 As another example, we find the 1606 case of 'Joseph Balsamo or Jusepe Valsamo . . . an Italian who, had arrived in Valencia after selling his medicine in various cities on the Peninsula, and who was authorized to sell as an itinerant merchant in the city a medicine called "medicinal of germania", composed and manufactured by him'. In documenting the case, María Luz Ló pez Terrada continues to write that the medicine was for '"all manner of illness related to cold"' and 'the case  Alessandro Quintilio, Relació n y memoria de los maravillosos efectos y notables provechos que han hecho y hacen los polvos blancos solutivos de la quinta esencia del oro que compone y hace Alexandro Quintilio (Madrid: Luis Sá nchez, 1616), 'relació n sumaria' at the front of book. 32 Ibid. 33 I have not yet been able to consult the document, but it is described this way in the SAVEX catalogue (<http://savex.cult.gva.es/flora/jsp/index_opac.jsp> accessed on 2 April 2019) in the Archivo del Reino de Valencia. It is catalogued as: Archivo del Reino de Valencia, Manaments y Empares, a. 1609, Libro 11, mano 108, fol. 1r-3r. 34 María Luz Ló pez Terrada, 'El control de las prá cticas mé dicas en la Monarquía Hispá nica durante los siglos XVI y XVII: el caso de la Valencia foral', Cuadernos de historia de España, 2007, 81, 91-113, 106-07. In Gentilcore's database of charlatans, the only cases of medicine labelled as 'germanica' or 'germania' are from the eighteenth century and unlikely to provide any clues as to the contents of Jusepe Balsamo's creation. those claimed by Guido Mondones for his 'oli petroli' and place him in the category for what Gentilcore would call a 'merchant-charlatan'. One may debate the applicability of the term, since it will become evident that Mondones did not concoct his own medicine, and instead seemed to be providing a well-documented simple ingredient. And yet, he may have still had to contend with customers or commercial rivals whose biases had been negatively influenced by satires, written anecdotes and treatises vilifying charlatans. As we shall see from legal documents cited in his case further, Mondones did face accusations of selling false medicine, although he did not defend himself in book form like Quintilio. 35 Instead, he appears to have relied upon the courts and their documents alone, while his case gives us further evidence of how a foreign seller of medicine could be a success and ultimately escape charges of devious charlatanism.

Petroleum as Medicine: Medical Authority and Precedents to Its Sale in Late Sixteenth-Century Spain
When Mondones came to the Iberian Peninsula to sell his medicine, it would not have been wholly unfamiliar to those who were literate and interested in such substances. The very word 'petroleum' has been used in Europe since the twelfth century, and it is in a medical context that we find the earliest written example. 36 As it continued to be listed in learned books, it also announced itself through more popular and ephemeral printed media. In one of his books on the history of this rock oil, R.J. Forbes dedicates an entire chapter to 'Advertizing the Medicinal Properties of Petroleum', basing his study on four promotional broadsheets printed from 1480 to 1550. 37 The four pamphlets cited by Forbes are printed either in French or German and three of them make important mention of either 'Montesible', 'Sibia' and 'Sybia', referring to Monte Zibio. This mountain near Modena was a well-known source of petroleum and the three Zibio-related pamphlets in question also contain abundant references to 'ancient medical authorities'. 38 Guido Mondones, a man from Modena and whose advertising we shall look at below, had the perfect surname for creating an authoritative persona as a merchant selling a substance from that region known for petroleum production. Pamphlets like the ones 35 Another useful point of comparison would be the case of Giuseppe Felice Maria Scutellio (1666-1730), described in a study by Sabrina Minuzzi. 'From the mid-sixteenth century onwards, alongside the "professional" quacks who mostly sold secrets in the streets and squares by resorting to theatrical gimmicks, there were others who applied for licences to produce and sell secrets that had been devised thanks to their daily 'diligent study and investigation.' Giuseppe Scutellio was one of these many '"particular people" [. cited earlier are the predecessors of Mondones's own advertising and those that followed him and are part of a sort of parallel papertrail of references to petroleum that would have made it a familiar substance to many at the time. In the anecdote from Mal Lara mentioned earlier, the 'authorities' cited by the charlatan in the public square were pure invention; but for a seller of petroleum, it would be much more valuable to cite published experts in support of his claims. Naming real names would earn the confidence of consumers and pre-emptively refute accusations of false medicine or false practice that local authorities might level against him. In the specific case of petroleum, law-enforcement officials and medical professionals had recourse to a number of books printed in Spanish that referenced the substance, often called 'naphtha'. Doctor André s de Laguna, physician to the Emperor Charles V, Pope Julius III and King Philip II, wrote about naphtha in his 1555 translation of Pedanius Dioscorides's book on poisons.
Another type of asphalt is called naphtha, which is a certain white and liquid form of Babylonian bitumen; given that a black form can also be found. This type [of asphalt] is so able to attract fire to itself that, even if far away, the fire will leap towards it. It is good against cataracts and against a white cloudiness that occurs in the eyes. All bitumen protects the parts of the body against inflammation, and it is good for soldering, mollifying, and resolving. It restores a mother to her proper state, during pregnancy or after ['subida o salida a fuera'] when applied or administered as a perfume. It detects those with epilepsy ['gota coral'], just like jet, if one uses it as perfume. Drunk with wine and beaver gland ['castoreo'] it provokes menstruation. It is useful against persistent cough ['tose antigua'], asthma, shortness of breath, snakebites, sciatica, and pain in one's side. To be given in pill form, to combat lax caused by a weak stomach. Drunk with vinegar it thins coagulated blood. Dissolved with tisane and injected as an enema it cures dysentery. It is useful for coughs when used in fumigation. It mitigates the pain of aching teeth when applied as a plaster. It strengthens weakened hair when dried and applied with a surgeon's probe ['una tienta']. Mixed with oat flour, wax, and nitre, and applied hot, it is useful against gout, joint pain, and lethargy. 39 Many of the properties of petroleum listed in Laguna's translation appear strikingly similar to those listed by Guido Mondones, whose advertising leaflet we shall examine further, and by Giuseppe Balsamo, whom was cited earlier. Echoes of Dioscorides's description appear in Nicolá s Monardes account of naphtha in the New World in his widely cited and extensively translated treatise Historia medicinal de las cosas que se traen de nuestras Indias Occidentales, first published in 1565. 40 The following is from John Frampton's 1577 translation.
There is in the Islande of Cuba, certaine Fountaines at the Sea side, that do cast from them a kinde of blacke Pitch, of a strong smell, which the Indians doe use in their cold infirmities. Our people doe use it there to pitche theyr Shippes, withall, for it is well neere lyke unto Tarre, and they do mingle therewith Tallowe, to make it Pitch the better. I doe beleeve that this is Napta, which the ancient wryters doe speake of. Possidonto sayeth, that there are twoo Fountaynes thereof in Babylon, one whyte and the other blacke. That which is brought from the Indias, we do use against griefes of the Mother, for that it doeth reduce the Mother in her place. And if it rise on high, then put it to the Nosethrilles, and if it come downe to the lower partes, putting thereto a wet tent with this Pitche, it causeth it to go upwarde to her place: and likewise it doeth profite, being applied to cold Infirmities, as the other Medicines do which we have spoken of. It is hotte in the second degree, and moyst in the first. 41 The observation that 'Indians doe use [it] in their cold infirmities' adds a distinct element of authority that blends nicely with Western classical tradition and suggests to the reader that, between the New World and the Old, the healing properties of the substance are universally recognised. At first glance, a travelling merchant such as Mondones seems like an outlier peddling an exotic remedy that benefits from its obscure origins, but when placed in context, the complete opposite situation is revealed. David Gentilcore's database lists eleven separate licences for selling 'rock oil' from the years 1560 to 1597, indicating that this medicine was not an unusual one for sale in the Italian Peninsula at the time. 42 Petroleum was a tried and trusted remedy, and Mondones could rely on the substance's solid reputation in both his marketing and legal defence. He also would have benefitted from the publicly accepted pharmacopeia at large, in which oils in general figured heavily. Additionally, legal battles over novel oils demonstrate that Mondones would have been at a relative advantage in court by selling a simple and not a concoction that invited more scrutiny and could involve recipes and multiple parties.

Medicinal Oils in Spain: Their Medical and Legal Approval for Sale
In her chapter on 'Contributions from the marketplace', Michele Clouse gives a detailed account of 'Aparicio de Zubia, a practitioner from Vizcaya (Basque region, northeast Spain) who claimed to have discovered a marvellous medicinal cure-a herbal composition especially effective for treating wounds that typically required surgical intervention'. 43 Aparicio was a shrewd self-promoter who carefully operated within the confines of Galenic medicine while making successful practical demonstrations, including some on the battlefield. Unfortunately for him, he died before he could secure '. . with the king himself, the most coveted patron in the land'. 44 Obtaining this prize was a task that fell to his widow, Isabel Pé rez, but a dispute arose concerning the authenticity of the formula she had provided for the famous 'Oil of Aparicio'. The legal battle was a lengthy one, no doubt in part-as Clouse notes-because the defender of the recipe was now a woman, even more liable to arouse suspicions among male medical experts. Finally, the recipe was vindicated 'through the aid of a Dominican friar who had received Aparicio's last confession' and the oil's authority as a cure lasted into the nineteenth century. 45 In a single sentence, Juan Fragoso's account gives us the dramatis personae of this early modern medical and courtroom drama. This is the oil with the following [recipe] for which [Aparicio's] wife gave evidence in court, by order of the members of the Council at the house of the Doctor de la Gasca to whom the case was referred. She made this declaration in the presence of Doctor San Pedro, a prosecutor for the Courts of Valladolid, and that of Diego de Burgos, apothecary to His Majesty, on the twelfth of March, in the year Fifteen Hundred and Sixty Seven. 46 Legal experts joined forces with a medical professional to render a judgment requiring an interdisciplinary approach. On the same page as the one cited earlier, Fragoso details a similar case involving the same royal apothecary but different legal officials. The substance on trial is 'Oil of Olmedo', perhaps not the same as 'Oil of Aparicio' but still 'not a bad substitute'.
The recipe for this oil of Olmedo is the following, for which evidence was given by order of the Council before Doctor Juan Gutierrez, protomé dico to His Majesty, and was given in presence of the apothecary Diego de Burgos, and of Damiá n de Rojas, scribe, the Eighth of March in the year MDLXVI. . .. 47 In the first case, the matter is handled by the High Court in Valladolid, while in the second, it is the protomé dico who intervenes, demonstrating the different paths that a drug could take on its way to final approval. Sometimes the process was drawn out and involved extensive self-promotion, as in the case for Aparicio de Zubia who 'first had to catch the attention and win the favor of a prospective patron' and additionally prove his medicine's worth on the battlefield. 48 The authorities appear to have acted more quickly in approving Olmedo's oil, perhaps because of groundwork laid by Aparicio. This occurred even though a sample could not be procured, and consequently, the king ordered 44 Ibid., 79. 45 Ibid., 81. 46 Juan Fragoso, Cirugía universal, ahora nuevamente enmendada, y añadida en esta quinta impresió n (Alcalá : Juan García, 1592), fol. 251r. 'Doctor de la Gasca' must refer to Diego de la Gasca, a doctor in laws and canon who 'began his public career as an oidor Fragoso 'to research the oil until he uncovered it secret composition and could replicate its beneficial effects'. 49 The protomé dico himself was in favour of the 'Oil of Aparicio' if prepared properly, and he was unwittingly enshrined as an endorser of the medicine's medical-legal authenticity. The royally approved List for prices at which merchandise is sold (1628) names two 'Oils of Aparicio', one 'green' ('del verde') and the other 'by Fragoso'. 50 Such oils of recent invention in Spain are akin to another 'name brand' concoction called 'Oil of Matthiolo' that does not receive the same legalistic verification and scrutiny as 'Oil of Aparicio' or 'Oil of Olmedo'. The famous Italian physician and botanist Pietro Andrea Mattioli's word was enough for early modern authorities like Fragoso, especially when Mattioli's account included his 'story of two thieves sentenced to death, and an experiment ordered by Pope Clement VII for testing the virtue of this oil, made by Gregorio Caravita the Bolognese surgeon, his [Mattioli's] teacher . . .'. 51 The base for the medicinal oil is the simple olive oil, but 'simple' in a medical sense did not necessarily mean 'simple' in a legal sense. Olive oil was not always itself so simple. It had potential healing properties that varied by type, and each type's power was augmented by additional ingredients. 52 In comparison, as we shall see further, Mondones's 'oli petroli' gave him safer standing as a purveyor of medicine than somebody peddling a concoction made of oil. Still, he was likely aware that there were gaps in his legal protection and that the integrity of his substance could be called into question.

The Case of Guido Mondones and His 'Oli Petroli'
On 2 July 1585, a man named in court documents as 'Guido Mondones, the Italian' signed over power of attorney ('carta de poder') to the procurador Juan de Salazar in the city of Valladolid. The lawyer was assigned to handle a lawsuit brought against the Italian by Francisco de Gracia, an import tax collector ('arrendador de la alcabala de peso y corrillo del aire'). 53 Although the case involved medicine, Mondones was not accused of doing business without a licence or any similar offence. Rather, at the centre of the suit was the question of whether the oil that he had imported was taxable under Castilian law. His lawyer's argument was a straightforward one: the oil was exempt from the tenpercent ('diez uno') tax because it was medicine. In order to prove this point, the exact purpose of the oil was put into evidence. The case also brings to light details of Mondones's previous legal struggles and his mastery of early modern Spanish bureaucracy, offering further insight into the survival strategies developed by Italian practitioners, academic and extra-academic alike, who made their way through Spain. The first pages of the recorded case make clear that when Mondones arrived in Valladolid in 1585, he came well-prepared with a pre-emptive legal defence in documentary form 49 Ibid., 86. 50 Juan Gonzá lez, Tasa de los precios a que se han de vender las mercaderías y otras cosas de que no se hizo menció n en la primera Tasa (Madrid: Juan Gonzá lez, 1628), fol. 48v. 51 Fragoso, Cirugía universal, fol. 252r. 52 And see, for example, Luis de Oviedo's explanation of how to prepare oil of rue: 'One must understand that when making oils from olive oil, cold oils must be made with omphancino oil, which is oil from green unripe olives, and not ripe ones; and hot oils must be made with sweet, mature oil. I take this, by the letter, from Galen . . ..' Luis de Oviedo, Mé todo de la colecció n y reposició n de las medicinas simples (Madrid: Luis Sá nchez, 1595), fol. 347r. 53 Archivo de la Real Chancillería de Valladolid, Pleitos Civiles, Pé rez Alonso, (F), Caja 425, 5, fols. 17r-18v. The full title of Francisco de Gracia's office is found on fol. 26r. that had served him well on previous occasions. It consisted of copies of civil sentences signed in his favour and a substantial writ of royal protection ('provisió n real') issued by the Council of the Great Office of Accounts ('consejo de la contaduría mayor'). 54 The earliest record in the Valladolid case states that in Madrid, on 16 May 1582, . . . the Italian Guido Mondones gave an account, telling us [the council] that at great cost and effort he had brought from parts in Italy to our realms a liquid and oil that they call pretolio [sic], which was a thing much esteemed for curing many illnesses. And when he wished to sell it in various places in these realms, sales-tax and revenue collectors attempted to collect tax on the oil that he was selling. They caused him much trouble over this matter for which he suffered injury and damages. In order to remedy this, he asked and petitioned us for the favour of giving him our letter and writ so that nobody would request or levee the aforementioned tax on the aforementioned oil that he sells . . .. 55 The writ was accompanied by a copy of 'Law 14 of Title XVIII of the ninth book' from the New Compilation of the Laws of These Kingdoms (Nueva recopilació n de las leyes destos reinos) detailing the exceptions to the sales tax ('alcabala') imposed on all apothecaries. Among the many excluded medicines were 'unguents and poultices and oils' ('ungü entos y emplastos y aceites') under which category Guido Mondones's petroleum certainly fell. 56 Notwithstanding the weight of the central bureaucracy behind him, the Italian continually faced harassment as he made his way through Castile. His strategy for easing his difficulties was to collect 'traslados' or copies of favourable sentences so that he could present them as evidence when the inevitable confrontation with tax collectors sprang up. The first such conflict on record occurred in the 'Noble city of Huete', with approximately 1,400 residents and situated about 110 km west-southwest of Madrid. In terms of jurisdiction, it was located in the territory known as the 'Tierra de Huete' and today sits within the boundaries of the province of Cuenca. 57 Documents from the second half 54 Ibid., fols. 1r-1v. 55 '. . .Guido Mondones italiano nos hizo relació n diciendo que con mucha costa y trabajo había traído de las partes de Italia a estos nuestros reinos un licor y aceite que llaman pretolio [sic] que era cosa muy estimado para muchas enfermedades, y que querié ndole vender en algunos lugares de estos reinos los arrendadores de las alcabalas y rentas de ellos les pretendían llevar alcabala del aceite que vendiese, y sobre ello le hacían muchas molestias de que recibía agravio y daño, y para remedio de ello nos suplicó y pidió por merced le mandá semos dar nuestra carta y provisió n para que del dicho aceite que así vendiese no se le pidiese ni llevase la dicha alcabala. . .'. Ibid., fols. 4r-4v. I include this text in the original language for scholars who may not otherwise have access to the document. Here and in following citations, I have modernised the spelling, accentuation and capitalisation. I have also added punctuation for ease of reading. 56 The most up-to-date version of this law would have been found in Cuaderno de lo que se añadió al libro de la nueva Recopilació n en esta segunda impresió n que se imprimió este año de MDLXXXI (Booklet of what was added to the book for the New Compilation in its second printing that was printed in the year MDLXXXI) (Alcalá : Juan I´ñiguez de Lequerica, 1581), fol. 16r. 57 It is important to note that, by the time of Mondones's arrival in the Peninsula, the Spanish Crown's financial system had undergone a process of decentralisation, providing much power (and potential for abuse) to the local authorities in the collection of the alcabala. of July 1582 outline the back and forth of arguments about whether Mondones's medicine should be taxed under the laws for oils and distillates or free of tax as declared in the royal writ. At the time of the case, Mondones had earned '300 ducados, more or less' from sales in the two months that he had spent in the city since his departure from Madrid with his paperwork in hand. 58 The deputy justice ('teniente del corregidor') who saw the case determined that it was not proven against the defendant. If the plaintiff wished to appeal, he would have to do so at the source of Mondones's legal defence: in front of the Council of the Great Office of Accounts in Madrid. 59 The merchant's troubles with tax collectors kept following him to Corral de Almaguer, a town of about 1,200 residents approximately 100 km south of Madrid, located then and now in the province of Toledo. 60 In a copy of a document signed on 22 August 1582, Mondones testified that the local governor had granted him permission to 'sell and publicise' his petroleum in the town and throughout the entire district of Quintanar de la Orden. The Italian additionally demanded that his royal protection be honoured and that tax collectors 'not bother nor perturb me, nor arrest me over this, rather that they let me go free as they have done with me in other parts' ('ni me molesten, ni perturben, ni detengan sobre ello sino que libremente deje [sic] ir segú n que en otras partes conmigo se ha hecho'). He also protested that each day of his arrest in the town meant a loss of '200 reales that I stop earning and lose at the market fairs' ('doscientos reales que dejo de ganar y pierdo en las ferias'). The mayor of the town responded favourably to Mondones's complaint and enforced the original order, although the same official insisted that the goods on sale must be those cited in the document. 61 The next stop on the merchant's itinerary occurred 2 weeks later and about 40 km farther south in a town simply called 'Alcá zar', today known as Alcá zar de San Juan. Today it is part of the province of Ciudad Real, but in Mondones's time, when its population neared 2,000, it would have had its own 'singular jurisdiction'. 62 In the copy of a decision dated 4 September 1582, the local 58 Archivo de la Real Chancillería de Valladolid, Pleitos Civiles, Pé rez Alonso, (F), Caja 425, 5, fol. 9r. 'An escudo coin [equal to a ducado] in the 1580s was worth 400 maravedís. A real coin was "usually worth 34 maravedís".' Mary Elizabeth Perry, Crime and Society in Early Modern Seville (Hanover, New Hampshire: University Press of New England, 1980), 265. Thus, 300 ducados equalled 120,000 maravedís, far exceeding the yearly salary of professors of medicine at the Universities of Á lacala and Salamanca, which averaged between 40,000 and 80,000 maravedís. Clouse, Medicine, Government and Public Health, 58n. The average retail price of medicinal petroleum was 64 reales per pound according to figures from Valladolid over the period from the mid-sixteenth to late seventeenth centuries. A total of 300 ducados of profit could therefore be estimated to equal 55 pounds of petroleum, but if this seems like too much volume, then perhaps Mondones was selling at much higher rates. For comparison, an apothecary's sweet almond oil averaged 7.35 reales per pound or roughly one-ninth the price of petroleum. magistrate showed himself as sympathetic as his colleague before him. Deferring to royal authority, the official found in favour of Mondones. 63 At this point, the merchant must have felt relief in the short term but exasperation in the greater scheme of things. In order to avoid future lawsuits, he went back to the capital and on 26 September 1582 requested a second warrant ('sobrecarta'), reinforcing and amplifying the previous writ and imposing a hefty fine of 100,000 maravedís against any who would defy it. 64 This newer and harsher order from Madrid must have had the desired effect. The Valladolid court case from 1585 contains no record of any more suits until the merchant's arrival at the city, at which point he would face two types of legal challenges: one of the sort described earlier and the other related to the quality of the medicine itself.
The first legal obstacle for Mondones was similar to those he had encountered beforehand. Within Valladolid's jurisdiction, lawsuits originating in matters of sales tax ('alcabala') were handled by a tribunal called the 'Sala de los Alcaldes de los Hijosdalgo', whose main purpose was to handle matters of noble status ('hidalguía'). If the hijosdalgo ruled against the defendant, appeals were heard by the 'Sala de Oidores'. This is precisely what happened, but not before some hardship at the hands of an import tax collector ('arrendador de la alcabala del peso y corrillo del aire') named Francisco de Gracia who made an appeal of his own. 65 In court documents, Gracia testifies that, as of 9 July 1585, Mondones had been in Valladolid for 15 days, selling his petroleum and earning 200 ducados of which he was obligated to pay the 10 per cent tax. Gracia sought to enforce the collection by enlisting the aid of the local governor's lieutenant ('teniente del corregidor'), [Juris] Doctor Agedo de Trillo. But Mondones was quick to brandish his favourable legal sentences and writ of royal protection ('hizo demostració n de ciertas sentencias') so that the lieutenant, like so many local officials before him, deferred to the authority of Mondones's legal documents and declared the Italian free from paying tax. 66 Gracia was undeterred and appealed Agedo's judgment before the 'Sala de los Alcaldes de los Hijosdalgo' on 2 July, at which point Mondones granted power of attorney to his lawyer. He must have realised that he now needed a true legal professional to battle for him in court. The tax collector's strategy was clear: he would appeal previous positive sentences on the grounds that they represented errores in iudicando and errores in procedendo ('en grado de apelació n, agravio y nulidad') and therefore, one assumes, set no precedent for Mondones to escape taxation. 67 The hijosdalgo ruled in favour of Gracia on 16 July, effectively declaring null and void the legal backing that the Italian carried with him. But 63 Ibid., fol. 14r. 64 Ibid., fol. 8r. The amount of the fine and the wording of this particular document closely matches that of a pragmá tica ('decree') aimed at protecting merchants in Seville in 1540. Vicente de Cadenas y Vicent, Carlos I de Castilla, señor de las Indias (Madrid: Hidalguía, 1988), 258. It is also 10 times the amount of the penalty first issued by the Royal Council against those who would attempt to collect tax from Mondones. Archivo de la Real Chancillería de Valladolid, Pleitos Civiles, Pé rez Alonso, (F), Caja 425, 5, fol. 4v. the tax collector's triumph was short-lived because Mondones's lawyer appealed to the other sala, that of the oidores ('judges') on the very next day. As a consequence, the previous decision was reversed, and Mondones was victorious. Not willing to leave anything to chance, he insisted on obtaining a copy of the judge's sentence, which was granted to him on 14 September 1585. The sentence stated that anybody acting against the judgment and attempting to collect the tax would suffer a fine of 10,000 maravedís. 68 In this way, the question of paying taxes was settled, but it was not the end of Guido Mondones's legal woes.
Nearly 2 weeks later, on 29 September, he faced his second and separate legal obstacle when the local governor Mené n Suá rez de Solís ordered that: . . . Guido Modones [sic] not sell [his petroleum] because the governor had been informed that the aforementioned oil was not good, that it was fake and false, having been warned by many people who had bought it and found it to be of no benefit . . .. 69 It seems like Mondones defied this order and confidently felt himself safe from prosecution. On the same evening that the governor issued his order, a constable in charge of vagabonds ('alguacil de vagamundos') was sent to the Italian's house and confiscated two 'brazos (tubes?) of liquid' to be held in deposit, after which he put Mondones in jail. 70 The merchant must have remained there as the governor completed his investigation, which relied upon the testimony of two physicians named in the documents as 'Licenciado San Pedro' and 'Doctor Mercado'. 71 The second figure is significant because it is Doctor Luis Mercado, Chair of Medicine at the University of Valladolid at the time, and who in seven years would be appointed royal 'Mé dico de Cá mara' and replace Doctor Francisco Vallé s as the nation's top medical authority: the Protomé dico de Castilla. 72 These two authorities, the second very weighty indeed, would inspect the medicine and offer their conclusions. It is not clear how much time Mondones spent in custody, but he would have been relieved to hear that on 2 November 1585, the two doctors had seen: . . . the aforementioned oil, examined it, performed all due diligence, and to them it appears to be the petroleum of which the authors make mention and they [the physicians] have not been able to find any signs of it being adulterated. As such, it can be used however one sees fit, as ordered by the authors, and not otherwise. On 15 November, after hearing the experts' testimony, the 'Sala de Oidores' ruled in favour of Mondones, absolving him of any wrongdoing while firmly insisting that he could only continue to sell his petroleum in accordance with the uses sanctioned by the two doctors, presumedly 'as ordered by the authors [printed medical authorities], and not otherwise'.
Given jurists' limited knowledge on the subject, deference to medical professionals may seem like a matter of course, but this was by no means guaranteed. 74 While we have no details of the doctors Mercado and San Pedro's evaluation process, two other cases can give us an idea of potential obstacles that Mondones faced in the courtroom context of judging expertise. In Verona during the first two decades of the seventeenth century, there was a commission for evaluating surgeons and their procedures centered on controlling blood flow. At the same time, there were occasions that required an equally-if not more-cautious process by the same commission for approving external medicine, such as a mercury unguent, for treating the great pox or French disease, known today as syphilis. 75 If we consider the many health claims and external uses proposed by Mondones in his advertisement, it is possible that these received the same high level of scrutiny as in the Verona cases. On other occasions, beyond scrupulousness, outright bias could stand in the way of a medical merchant's success in court. In Valencia in 1441, during a lawsuit between an apothecary and a merchant, two physicians were called to form a commission for evaluating a substance known as 'l'or potable' (auro potabili, a drinkable gold elixir). Because the medical substance in question was of an alchemical nature, and because one of the doctors saw alchemists as obsessed with fruitless pursuits, it was possible that some of the medical expertise in this situation was biased towards suspecting the apothecary of fraudulence. 76 If we compare this to our sixteenth-century Valladolid case, it is important to note that Mondones had elected to sell a simple (petroleum), which must have helped him avoid any alchemical controversy. 77 In this case, the two doctors' own biases do not appear to have interfered, and when all was said and done, they made their own deferrals to printed medical authorities. This was probably the aim of Mondones's medico-legal strategy from the outset. He did not sell himself as an expert, but instead relied upon weighty authorities like Laguna, Brassavola and Platearius to make his claims for him. He must have known that there was a risk that his sources may have landed him in controversy or that the court would be sceptical of medical experts' judgments, but it was only a slight gamble and certainly worth taking. The last word on the merchant to be found in the archival documents is the sala's agreement, dated 27 November 1585. It promises to provide him with a copy of the sentence and warns of a fine for anybody who might attempt to contravene it. 78 We can only imagine that, within the jurisdiction of Valladolid, Mondones was free to sell his wares and enjoyed continued success.

Mondones's Medical Petroleum Advertisement and the Italian Connection
Compelling evidence of doing good business in 1583 and 1584 is found in the court documents through a transcription of a handbill advertising his petroleum. As C.J.S. Thompson wrote in 1928 about London from the same time period: The quack has always shown great skill in advertising and recognised it as the mainspring of success. Before the era of printing he had to rely solely on his lungs for haranguing his audience, but in the sixteenth century he began to appreciate the value of the press in making known his remedies and commenced to circulate hand-bills. 79 Decades later, Roy Porter also emphasised the move towards print, describing 'their bid for the public ear and eye through oratory, handbills, broadsides, verse, street-theatre, and, increasingly, pamphlets and newspaper publicity'. 80 'Quack' may seem like a quaint expression inapplicable to Guido Mondones, given his exoneration described above, but it is still a keyword for studying medical advertisement to this day. One also learns from more recent studies that, for England at least, extant 'quack advertisements' for scholarly examination are plentiful in the seventeenth century but harder to find for periods before or after. 81 For David Gentilcore, the word is not so much 'quack' but 'charlatan' and, based on his research, handbills advertising Italian charlatans seem easier to trace across the centuries in Italy. 82 While both England and Italy contain gaps in documenting the development of medical handbills, they offer a relative abundance of sources compared to Spain. This makes Mondones's advertisement rather extraordinary. An extensive survey of Spanish broadsheets from 1472 to 1700 lists none printed for 1584 (the year of Mondone's handbill), and over the entire time period, only 13 sheets printed in Salamanca (the place of the handbill) are recorded. 83 The catalogue for the Sá nchez-Quintar medical books collection at the University of Valencia lists six works printed in 78 Ibid., fol. 3r. 79 Salamanca in the sixteenth century, and none of these are broadsheets. Six such advertisements that are dated near the time of Mondones's activity are from the first third of the seventeenth century. 84 Given the context described earlier, it seems necessary to include Mondones's advertisement in its entirety here. Also: for congealed nerves. Also: for persistent cough, drink it and smear the chest. Also: for worms, drink it. Also: smear the belly. Also: for aching breasts, smear them if the ache is from cold. Also: for suffocation of the mother, if the womb is fumigated from below, then by smearing with a bit of cotton and so bathe the womb with the aforementioned liquid. Then put a flame near it to fumigate underneath, and smear those parts. And if the hysteria is above, then drink a bit of it and smear the nostrils. And for epilepsy. And for snakebites, smear onto the bite because the liquid is so subtle that it will enter the flesh and consume the poison. Also: for asthma, drink it and smear the body. Also: for earache, drench a bit of cotton in it and smear it around the inner ears. Then, put these inside. Also: for sciatica, smear where one has it. For aches in the upper side, smear where one feels the pain. Also: drinking it with vinegar will dissolve blood clots. Also: for spasms. Also: for looseness that stems from weak bowels. Also: for other illnesses, as told by so many books mentioned above. Also: it mollifies and solders. And he who wishes to see it will be shown a royal writ from Madrid and from Portugal and from many other cities among the largest in Spain. The text for this advertisement appears suddenly in the court documents, directly after they indicate that an official has asked for a sentence to be read. But what follows is the advertising text, not any sentence. Unfortunately, this means that there is no preface for this information nor any description of the physical characteristics of the handbill, such as paper dimensions, number of pages and type of paper. Likewise, the printer is not known, though we do have a place and date. The Universal Short Title Catalogue lists no fewer than nine active printers in Salamanca in 1584, among them Lucas de Junta of the Giunti family, which had shops in Spain and Italy. 86 While we do not know exactly where and how Mondones distributed his written advertisement or sold his actual wares, the court documents do mention that oil was packaged for sale in glass apothecary's flasks ('redomas'), so it is possible that he sold directly to shops. 87 The broadsheet's claim that he had a writ from Portugal suggests that he sought it while King Philip II (I of Portugal) resided in Lisbon between December 1580 and February 1583. This reference underscores the effort that the merchant made to secure his livelihood through the force of law. 88 In addition to extolling the many virtues of petroleum, the advertisement matches the modern historian Gentilcore's characterisation of how 'The handbill was able to add to a remedy's mystical aura for literate, partially literate, and illiterate alike'. 89 With Mondones's advertisement in hand, an apothecary with a substantial library would be able to check the precise page references to André s de Laguna's Pedacio Dioscorides Anazarbeo, Acerca de la materia medicinal y de los venenos mortiferos (Antwerp: 1555, Salamanca: 1566) and Girolamo Calestani's Delle osservationi di Girolamo Calestani Parmigiano parte prima (Venice: 1575). For Antonio Musa Brassavola, Mondones is likely referring to Examen omnium simplicium medicamentorum, and he would not have been the first person to abbreviate the title. 90 'Platerius Medicus Salernitanus' must refer to Matthaeus Platearius, author of Circa instans, a 'medieval besteller' that would later be printed at the end of the fifteenth century and many times afterwards. 91 After checking these references, the apothecary could rest assured of the healing properties of the liquid 85 Archivo de la Real Chancillería de Valladolid, Pleitos Civiles, Pé rez Alonso, (F), Caja 425, 5, fols. 1v-2v. See Figure 1 for an image of the first page. Also see the 'Appendix' for a full transcription, with modernised spelling of the handbill. known as 'petroleum' or 'naphtha'. 92 Despite the number of authorities he cites and the appearance of petroleum as a near cure-all, Mondones seems to have been selective in describing his remedy. For example, the merchant copies from Laguna a phrase nearly word-for-word: 'drinking it with vinegar will dissolve blood clots', yet the Italian omits a cure that appears in Laguna a few lines above, specifically that 'drunk with wine and beaver gland, it provokes the menses'. On the other hand, Mondones gives more detail than Laguna about how petroleum cures snake bite. 93 Conversely, Laguna's petroleum-cure for gout is more elaborate and involves mixing it with barley, wax and nitre, then applying it hot; while Mondones simply indicates: 'smear it where it hurts'. It is impossible to determine why these discrepancies exist when the merchant could have simply followed his written sources to the letter, but the differences may reflect another side of Gentilcore's 'mixture of orality and literacy'. Perhaps Mondones struck a balance between book-learning and empiricism, or perhaps these differences represent information gleaned from other extra-academic practitioners or conversations with apothecaries or patients.
The documents of the legal case list Guido Mondones as a 'merchant', nothing more, and his advertisement is vague about the 'mines and springs from parts of Italy' that are the source of his petroleum. He has not dressed himself up as a medical expert, but his name could carry a certain weight and may have functioned as a pre-modern form of subliminal advertising. The court documents in the Archivo de la Real Chancillería de Valladolid are evenly divided between the spelling of 'Mondones' and 'Modones', and the former has been used in this article because it is so listed in the archive catalogue. But 'Modones' without the first 'n' is listed in the transcription of the handbill, so there is a good chance that this is how the merchant presented himself to his clientele. 'Mondone', without an 's', survives as a rare family surname in Piedmont; but even if the merchant addressed himself in such a manner, literate consumers could still have seen a link between the name and written references to Modena and curative petroleum. 94 If the man in question did present himself as 'Modones', and the other spelling was a clerical error, then the name would have implied heavily 'from Modena' in Spanish. Regarding the Modena-petroleum connection, Laguna writes: In the territory of Modana [sic] there springs forth a certain oil called Petroleum, because it sweats out from certain rocks. It also suddenly attracts flame, and it appears very similar to white Naphtha. We may even say that it is of that kind, extremely useful for all cold illnesses of the nerves. 95 Another of Mondones's authoritative sources, Pietro Andrea Mattioli, updates the classical authorities' descriptions of Naphtha and explains that while Pliny's version of the 92 The Brasavola and Platerius references in the document are less precise because of paper damage and may refer to any number of books. Likely candidates for Brasavola are either Examen omnium simplicium medicamentorum, quorum in officinis usus est or Examen omnium simplicium quorum usus in publicis, which together went through 10 printings from 1536 to 1556. De simplicibus by 'Platearius Medicus Salernitanus' refers to either a manuscript of Tractatus de simplicibus medicinis, also known as Circa instans, from the medieval Salerno school of medicine or a printed version thereof. liquid is from Astaceni in Parthia, these days, '. . .it nevertheless arises in more places, and clearly has the same effects with fire. It springs forth in Modena and other places in Lombardy, and they call it Petroleum oil or rock oil'. 96 The family name 'Mondones', whether authentic or merely adopted by the merchant, was his best form of branding if we assume that Modena's international reputation for producing medicinal petroleum preceded him.

Conclusion
Through our modern eyes, selling petroleum may be an activity that initially throws up a figurative 'red flag' indicative of charlatanism, but Guido Mondones's own story inscribed in legal documents and the surrounding historical context demonstrates that he was selling a remedy that was not only quite legitimate but in fact well-reputed and quite in demand. He may not have fit neatly into the categories of either pedlar, charlatan or even 'merchant', but this lack of neatness is inversely proportional to the great care and pains that Mondones took to integrate himself into a system that continuously vindicated his practice, despite occasional challenges. The legitimacy of petroleum as a medicine itself was never the cause for doubt or conflict amongst the academic and legal authorities he faced, while questions of taxation and purity of the substance were. In short, Mondones was a seemingly non-hegemonic figure who was successful, in part, due to a hierarchical system and not in spite of it. Since this lack of marginalisation does not appear exceptional, the case can be added to an increasing number of examples of varied medical cultures allowing us to further explore the prominent role of accepted extra-academic practitioners on the Iberian Peninsula during the early modern period.