Conversos and Marranos

The Spanish Inquisition had more concerns about converts than the regular Roman Inquisition, because the Iberian Peninsula had a larger percentage of Jews and Muslims. When members of those groups converted, there was concern that they simply converted publicly to avoid oppression but secretly practiced their faiths. There were special terms for these converts. Conversos were Jews who converted to Christianity. Moriscos ("Moorish") were converted Muslims.

Suspicion of conversos remaining true to Judaism could simply be because the conversions were motivated by fear, not a willingness to change. The Archdeacon of Écija, Ferrand Martinez, started preaching loudly against Jews in 1378, advocating violence against them. In June 1391, his efforts led to the destruction of several synagogues in Seville and mass murders of Jews, causing many Jews to flee the country or convert to save their lives.

Even if there were no evidence of secretly practicing your previous faith, converts were not automatically accepted into Christian society, especially since they were forced to convert by fear. Conversos were distrusted by their new Christian community and reviled by their former Jewish community. Long before Martinez, a new term for conversos entered common parlance: tornadizo, "renegade."

Rulers such as James I of Aragon, Alfonso X of Castile, and John I of Castile tried to protect the converted, and forbade the use of the pejorative tornadizo. Although the rulers wanted all citizens protected, there were restrictions placed on conversos: they could not associate with Jews (lest they backslide), there were some offices they were not allowed to hold, and it was illegal to try to convert them back to Judaism.

Another term used in Spain and Portugal for converted Jews who continued to follow Judaism is Marranos. It is an insult, meaning "pig," and became a common word after the Alhambra Decree. Our modern term for these conversos is "Crypto-Jews." (The illustration is an 1893 painting by Moshe Maimon called "Marranos: A secret Passover Seder in Spain during the times of Inquisition.")

Tomorrow we will look at the plight of the morisco in Spain and Portugal.

The Spanish Inquisition

While the Roman Catholic Church established the Inquisition in the 12th century to root out heresy, etc., some countries felt the need to create their own versions. In 1478, Isabella I of Castile and her husband, Ferdinand II of Aragon, created their own that would not be controlled by the popes: the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition. We know it as the Spanish Inquisition.

Spain had a slightly different situation than much of Western Europe, because historically it had a large Muslim and Jewish population. Ferdinand and Isabella would eventually release the Alhambra Decree in 1492 (yes, the same year Isabella financed Columbus' travels), requiring all non-Christians to convert or leave the country on pain of death. There were two terms for these converts. Conversos were Jews who converted to Christianity. Moriscos, from the word for "Moorish," were converted Muslims.

Prior to 1492, however, there was still a desire to ensure that converts from Judaism and Islam to Christianity were sincere, but after 1492 the job of the Spanish Inquisition became more widespread and intense, since so many who could not afford to leave the country converted under duress.

Besides heresy and apostasy ("backsliding" to your previous beliefs), the Spanish Inquisition went after witchcraft, blasphemy, bigamy, sodomy, Protestantism (when it came along later), and even Christian mystics (called alumbrados, "illuminati").

It was a Dominican, Fray Alonso de Ojeda, who convinced Isabella that there were "Crypto-Jews" in Andalusia: Jews who had converted but practiced Judaism in secret. This was confirmed by Isabella and Ferdinand's confessor, Tomás de Torquemada (a name that became synonymous with torture). The Spanish Inquisition held its first investigations in late 1480, and had a result by 6 February 1481, when six people were burned alive in public, a practice known as auto da fé, a Portuguese phrase meaning "act of faith." (The illustration shows an auto da fé in the public marketplace.)

Not all subjects were executed. Public flogging, imprisonment, and exile were also used, as well as being force to serve as a galley-slave, forced to row on the royal ships. There were also monetary fines. "Surviving" the investigation did not mean resuming life as you knew it: you and your descendants were prohibited from certain high-level professions like doctor and tax-collector.

If you were a good and faithful converso or a morisco, however, you were probably safe, right? Hmm, tomorrow let's see how converts were actually treated by society.

(By the way, everybody expected the Spanish Inquisition! The Inquisition protocol was to send you a message saying to be available for interrogation.)

What Started the Inquisition?

As Christianity expanded to different regions and with different authorities, philosophical discussions and policies and practices developed in isolation from each other. Councils and Synods were held to bring the various regional groups together to form consistent understanding of their message.

Once you have an approved message, however, you have to guard it, and therefore you have to find ways to stamp out dissent, disagreement, and maybe even simple debate. This need to drag dissenters back into the community of the faithful—or else—led to inquisitions, when the subject was questioned at length to determine whether they were truly UN"faith"ful or were simply misunderstood, and perhaps needed re-education.

This process, too, needed to be made consistent across the Christian world, and therefore the (upper-case) Inquisition was formed, with rules and regulations. The Catholic Encyclopedia website describes the Inquisition thusly:

Its characteristic mark seems to be the bestowal on special judges of judicial powers in matters of faith, and this by supreme ecclesiastical authority, not temporal or for individual cases, but as a universal and permanent office. Moderns experience difficulty in understanding this institution, because they have, to no small extent, lost sight of two facts.

On the one hand they have ceased to grasp religious belief as something objective, as the gift of God, and therefore outside the realm of free private judgment; on the other they no longer see in the Church a society perfect and sovereign, based substantially on a pure and authentic Revelation, whose first most important duty must naturally be to retain unsullied this original deposit of faith.

The period known as the Medieval Inquisition ranged from the 12th to 15th centuries, and started in France to deal with Cathars and Waldensians. It quickly expanded to other countries, looking into the Hussites, the Spiritual Franciscans ("Spirituals"), and the Beguines.

In 1250, Pope Alexander IV appointed Dominicans as the official Inquisitors. (The illustration is by 15th-century artist Pedro Berrugete of St. Dominic presiding over the burning of a heretic, called an auto-da-fé.)

When "moderns" think of the Inquisition, what often comes to mind is the Spanish Inquisition. Let's see what made them special next time.

Heinrich and the Hammer of Witches

I've touched on the Malleus Maleficarum ("Hammer of Witches") briefly before. It was written by a Dominican who was frustrated because he wasn't allowed to do everything he wanted as part of the Inquisition.

It was first printed in 1486 in Germany and also known as Hexenhammer. It offers proof that witches exist, explains their powers, and explains how to properly conduct a trial of a witch. It recommends torture to gain confessions.

The Inquisition of the Catholic Church also used torture to extract confessions out of suspected heretics, but officially condemned the Malleus Maleficarum as unethical in 1489. That did not prevent its massive popularity, however. Here is how the book came about.

In 1485, after urging Pope Innocent VIII to make a statement against witches, which led to a papal bull, Heinrich Kramer (c.1430 - 1505) went to Innsbruck to root out witchcraft. Its bishop, Georg Golser, gave him permission to operate in the diocese. He and his personal crusade were well-known, and a woman by the name of Helena Scheuberin, the wife of a prominent burgher, seeing him in the street, spat and said "Fie on you, you bad monk, may the falling evil take you."

Kramer found out that she never attended any of his sermons, and moreover that she was telling others to avoid him, so he accused her of laying a curse and had her arrested. Bishop Golser urged Kraner to drop the investigation, since his accusations of witchcraft had no evidence to support them, but Kramer persisted until Golser demanded that Kramer leave the diocese.

That is when he decided to turn his focus on educating others of the dangers of witches among us, and so wrote his book. He included a forward with Innocent's bull, lending an air of legitimacy to his stance. It was reprinted 13 times up until 1520, and then had a revival between the 1570s and 1660s when it was reprinted 16 times. Its popularity finally started to fade during the Age of Enlightenment, although it is still published as a curiosity today, and paperback copies can be found from several booksellers.

Next time, let's go back to the beginning of the Inquisition, and see how it all started.

Innocent, Kramer, and Witchcraft

On 5 December 1484, Pope Innocent VIII issued a papal bull concerning witchcraft. Bulls are known by their opening lines, and so this one is referred to as Summis desiderantes affectibus, "Desiring with supreme ardor," although that opening hardly tells you what the bull addresses.

The rest of the first sentence (or at least most of the very long introduction) makes more sense:

Desiring with supreme ardor, as pastoral solicitude requires, that the catholic faith in our days everywhere grow and flourish as much as possible, and that all heretical depravity be put far from the territories of the faithful,...[source]

The bull was a response to the urging of Heinrich Kramer (c.1430 - 1505), a German Dominican and inquisitor for the county of Tyrol, and for Salzburg, Bohemia, and Moravia. Kramer saw witchcraft as a severe problem, and wanted permission to root it out and punish it everywhere. The local authorities did not support his campaign, so he appealed to Innocent and convinced the pope that this was a crisis that needed addressing. 

The bull continues with a list of the results of witchcraft:

...by their incantations, charms, and conjurings, and by other abominable superstitions and sortileges, offences, crimes, and misdeeds, ruin and cause to perish the offspring of women, the foal of animals, the products of the earth, the grapes of vines, and the fruits of trees, as well as men and women, cattle and flocks and herds and animals of every kind, vineyards also and orchards, meadows, pastures, harvests, grains and other fruits of the earth; that they afflict and torture with dire pains and anguish, both internal and external, these men, women, cattle, flocks, herds, and animals, and hinder men from begetting and women from conceiving, and prevent all consummation of marriage;

Despite the bull, the German authorities limited Kramer's inquisitorial activities. During one trial he brought against the wife of a prominent burgher in Innsbruck, his bishop accused him of not being able to prove any of his accusations, finally demanding that Kramer leave his diocese.

Kramer retired from the Inquisition and turned his attention to warning everyone about witchcraft and related topics. The result was a book that is still in print, the Malleus Maleficarum, or "Hammer of Witches." Let's talk about that next time.

The Story of Montaillou

When French historian Emmanuel Le Roy Ladurie (1929 – 2023) set out to write an account of a typical French medieval village, based on certain records of the time, he and his publisher had no idea that its 1975 publication would turn into a best-seller. Montaillou, village occitan de 1294 à 1324 ("Montaillou, an Occitan Village from 1294 to 1324"). Ladurie wanted to make accessible to a modern audience the lives and beliefs of this small village in the Pyrenees (near the border with the Iberian Peninsula) at the beginning of the 14th century. (The illustration is a much more recent view of Montaillou.)

It is a social history, also called "history from below," trying to understand the past through research into regular living rather than political or military history, or the lives of prominent figures at the top of the social-political pyramid.

He had a very specific reason for examining that particular place and time. The book was translated into English in 1978 with the subtitle "The Promised Land of Error / Cathars and Catholics in a French Village." The "certain records" mentioned in the first paragraph were those made by the Inquisition, specifically a group of documents called the Fournier Register. This was made by Jacques Fournier, the Bishop of Pamiers, in whose diocese Montaillou lay. This area was one of the last holdouts of the heresy Catharism, and Fournier was determined to eliminate it.

The Inquisition was quite careful in its procedures. During questioning of a subject, a scribe would take short notes. These would then be expanded more fully with the help of the Inquisitor, and the result shown to the questioned for review and edits. The Occitan language would also be translated into Church Latin. The result was a record of hundreds of commoners and their day-to-day observations and opinions.

One example of beliefs is his questioning of Guillemette of Ornolac, who was said to have doubted the existence of the soul. She offered the opinion that the "soul" was really blood, and that death is the end. When asked who taught her this, she replied "No, I thought it over and believed it myself." She was sentenced to wear a cross of yellow on her back for the rest of her life. Of the hundreds questioned—578 sessions, mostly with peasants—his inquisition resulted in only five capital sentences (being burned at the stake).

His thoroughness impressed his superiors, and he quickly advanced through the ranks. And that is why we have these early records so carefully preserved so that Ladurie could comb through them six and a half centuries later: Fournier took them with him when he went to Avignon. Why Avignon? He became pope. Let's take a look at Pope Benedict XII tomorrow.

The Death of an Inquisitor

The picture is misleading, I'm afraid, because the subject of today's post died a natural death, but it is certain that there were plenty of contemporaries who would have been glad to see him executed sooner.

Nicholas Eymerich (c.1316 - 1399) was an Inquisitor General from Catalan who made lots of enemies through his hyper-zealous search for heresy of any kind (according to his opinion). At one point he fled to Avignon and the pope's support when he had gone too far in Aragon.

He returned to Aragon in 1381 and discovered that his rival, Bernardo Ermengaudi, had been named Inquisitor General. Eymerich ignored this turn of events and continued to act as if he were the inquisitor. When he forbade the teaching of Ramon Llull in Barcelona—one of his problems with Llull was the idea of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, which Eymerich did not believe—King Peter IV found out and ordered him drowned, but was persuaded by Queen Eleanor of Sicily to exile him instead. Eymerich ignored the order of exile, because the king's son John was on his side. In 1386, Peter IV died and John succeeded him, which allowed Eymerich to act with impunity.

Remember the term "hyper-zealous"? Eymerich in 1388 declared he would interrogate the entire town of Valencia for heresy, imprisoning the chancellor of the university. This was too far for King John, who freed the chancellor and exiled Eymerich, who took sanctuary in a church for two years until he finally decided to leave and go to Avignon again.

After John's death in 1396, Eymerich returned to the Dominican monastery in Girona where he had his start. He was 80 years old at the time, and so a little less energetic. He lived in the monastery quietly until his death in 1399.

Now, about the Immaculate Conception of Mary: this is something every Roman Catholic in the 20th century grew up knowing. We assume that this concept was established long ago, and so it is a surprise that the 14th century saw it as a controversy. Many Roman Catholics are even uncertain of what it means. What is it, and what did the Middle Ages think of the idea? That's a good topic for tomorrow.

The Life of an Inquisitor

Ramon Llull's system of philosophy was officially condemned by an Inquisitor General of the Roman Catholic Church, Nicholas Eymerich, a fellow Catalonian—though not a contemporary: Eymerich was born around the time of Llull's death.

He was born in Girona, in Catalonia, and entered he local Dominican monastery while a teenager, learning theology there before being sent to Toulouse and then Paris to further his education. He then returned home to become the theology teacher at the monastery.

His knowledge was so recognized that in 1357 he was named the Inquisitor General of Aragon. In his vigorous pursuit of heretics, he targeted many fellow clerics for small details that he considered blasphemous, earning himself many enemies in the Church. When he decided to interrogate a well-respected Franciscan, Nicholas of Calabria, King Peter IV of Aragon arranged to have him removed from his position in 1360.

The Dominican Order decided that Eymerich would be a good Vicar General, but there was opposition, notably from King Peter IV, who supported a different candidate, Bernardo Ermengaudi. The dispute required the pope to make a decision, but Urban V chose a compromise candidate, Jacopo Dominici.

Eymerich remained an Inquisitor General, further annoying the king by attacking the Ramon Llull's teachings. (One of his objections to Llull was that Llull believed in the Immaculate Conception of Mary while Eymerich did not.)  The king forbade him from preaching in Barcelona, but Eymerich became political, not only ignoring the king's command but also supporting a revolt against him in 1376. When the monastery where Eymerich was hiding was surrounded by 200 horsemen seeking him, Eymerich fled to Avignon where Pope Gregory IX was residing.

While in Avignon, he justified his approach to the position of Inquisitor by writing the Directorium Inquisitorum, the "Directory of Inquisitions" with his definitions of heresies, trial procedures, and proper jurisdiction of the inquisitor. He discusses how to find witches and the actions that are considered parts of witchcraft and therefore heretical: casting salt into a fire, burning bodies of animals and birds, baptizing images, mixing names of angels and demons, etc.

Armed with this clear explanation of why he was right in his actions, he decided to return to Aragon in 1381, only to discover that Ermengaudi had become Inquisitor General in his absence. Ignoring this turn of events, he decided to continue acting as if he were Inquisitor General. This did not work well for him. I'll explain further next time.

Lorenzo Valla--Early Modern Scholar

Lorenzo Valla was born about 1407 in Rome. His father was a lawyer for the pope. Lorenzo studied under Leonardo Bruni (sometimes called the first modern historian) and Giovanni Aurispa (who is credited with the revival of Greek in Italy).

Lorenzo entered the priesthood in 1431, seeking a position as a secretary in the Vatican's diplomatic office. Failing to secure that position, he went to Pavia to lecture, but he got himself in trouble there by offending the greatest jurist and expert on Roman law, Bartolus de Saxoferrato, by criticizing his Latin style. He had to leave Pavia, and became essentially an itinerant lecturer, traveling from city to city seeking opportunities at universities, until he was invited to Rome by Pope Nicholas V to work in Nicholas' new Vatican Library.

With steady employment, he could devote his spare time to writing. He had published in 1433 his first literary work, De Voluptate ("On Pleasure"), in which he argued for the benefit of Epicurus' embracing of natural appetites over the principles of the Stoics. He now produced a text on logic, Repastinatio dialectice et philosophie ("Re-digging dialectic and philosophy"). There are more: Notes on the New Testament, De Elegantis which examined Latin grammar and style, a work on Free Will that argued against Boethius' Consolation of Philosophy.

The truly ground-breaking work, however, was De falso credita et ementita Constantini Donatione declamatio, ("Declamation of the falsely believed and falsified Donation of Constantine") in 1440. The Donation of Constantine was largely believed (argued against, but still believed) as the foundation for papal authority over temporal lords.

Lorenzo took a close look at the text of the document that purported to be a formal imperial decree from the 4th century. His extensive familiarity with the development of Latin over the centuries helped him realize it was written in a style more appropriate to a less-educated writer from the 8th century.

Not only was the language wrong for the premise, he argued three other points:

1. There was no legal authority by which Emperor Constantine could have given Pope Sylvester I the powers claimed in the document.

2. There was no historical evidence in any records that there were administrative changes in the Western Roman Empire.

3. His own doubt that Constantine cared enough about the pope to give him anything.

The Church, understandably, rejected this theory. 

Lorenzo was put on trial by the Inquisition in 1444, ostensibly for supporting Alfonso V of Aragon in a territorial dispute over the Papal States.

Lorenzo Valla died 1 August 1457. It did not get formally published until 1517 and became popular among Protestants. Thomas Cromwell had it translated into English in 1534. The Donation eventually became recognized by all as a fake.

So why did I title this with the phrase "Early Modern Scholar"? Shouldn't he be labeled "Renaissance Scholar"? Many historians refer to the Renaissance as "Early Modern" now; the reasons why I look forward to explaining tomorrow.

Marguerite Porete

One of the more notable Beguines was the French mystic Marguerite Porete. We know little about her life except what was recorded in her trial for heresy, for which she was burned at the stake in Paris on 1 June 1310. She also left behind a manuscript, Le Mirouer des simples âmes, which was the reason for her condemnation. The title, as well as the work itself, is Old French, and translates "The Mirror of Simple Souls." That was one problem with it: Latin was the only approved language for religious literature.

Her subject was the transformation of the soul through agape (Christian love, as distinct from physical or emotional love). Using poetry and prose, she outlined seven stages of the soul on its path to Union with God. 

The more important issue with the book was that it expressed ideas similar to those of the Brethren of the Free Spirit, a loose movement in the Low Countries between the 13th and 15th centuries. Some of those ideas were that Christ, the church, and the sacraments were not necessary for salvation, because the soul could be perfected on its own by connecting to God's love. In fact, the perfection of the soul meant that the soul and God were one.

Her book was copied and spread among Beguines and others. Authorities rounded up all the copies they could find, burned them, and then imprisoned Marguerite. She spent a year and a half imprisoned, speaking to no one. Finally, a trial was held, during which she refused to renounce the ideas expressed in the Mirror, or to promise to never express them again.

Her refusal led to her burning at the stake on 1 June 1310. Although it remained popular after the trial, and was widely circulated, Le Mirouer des simples âmes was known to modern times only through the record of her trial. In 1911, a purchase of old manuscripts by the British Library from a private collector turned up an English translation made in the 15th century. Three other manuscripts were eventually found, one in Latin. Various translations have been published since then.

There was a time when the copies circulated after her death were wrongly attributed to another author, John van Ruysbroeck. What made him a likely candidate for this mistake? We will meet him tomorrow.

The Siege of Montségur

The Cathars, mentioned yesterday, were a largely peaceful group that attempted to lead lives of Christian simplicity, rejecting the material world as much as possible. Their beliefs challenged official Church doctrine, and the Inquisition and the Albigensian Crusade were chief instruments in suppressing them. They were not completely successful, however.

The remains of a later structure on Montségur

In May 1243, over 200 Cathars took refuge in a stone chateau on a peak called Montségur in southern France, surrounded by French military. Montségur wasn't a last resort of fleeing Cathars, however: it had been granted to them as the headquarters of their Cathar Church by its sympathetic owner, the Occitan nobleman Raymond de Péreille. (For his trouble, he was interrogated by the Inquisition after the Siege concluded.)

The Siege took nine months. The usual tactic is to outlast the besieged while their food and water runs out. Montségur was well-provisioned, however, and sympathetic locals snuck in with supplies. Also, the Cathars were accustomed to deprivation, so emergency rations were no hardship for them. For these reasons, the 10,000 royal troops waited in vain until the decision was made to attack. After much difficulty, a position was established on the eastern side of the peak, where a catapult was constructed. The bombardment enabled the attackers to take control of the chateau's defensive gateway, the barbican, and therefore move the catapult closer in order to do more damage to the walls and interior.

The besieged were given two weeks to depart safely, on the condition that they renounced Catharism. Death by burning was the alternative. The Cathars spent the two weeks fasting and praying in preparation for departing from a world they considered sinful anyway. On 16 March, 1244, over 200 of them marched downhill to the pyre that had been prepared and of their own volition climbed onto the stacks of wood. The place is now known as Prats de Cremats [Occitan: "Field of the Burned"].

Catharism survived in southern France, but not in any organized fashion. The presence of the Inquisition caused many Cathars to emigrate to more hospitable regions, such as Spain and Italy.

Popes and the Talmud

The Talmud [late Hebrew talmūd, "instruction"] is the body of Jewish civil and ceremonial law. It includes the Mishnah (exegetical material embodying the oral tradition of Jewish law) and the Gemara (rabbinical commentaries on the Mishnah). The Talmud had a rocky existence in Christian Europe, even at the hands of one of the popes who was most supportive of the Jews, Gregory IX.

Talmud from 13th-14th centuries

Pope Gregory IX (c.1145 - 1241) was responsible for the Decretals (a codification of canon law that some say was designed to establish his authority over the Church) and the Papal Inquisition (and let us not forget his part in the demonization of cats). This centralization of power of the papacy seemed to inspire him to be the guardian of all God's children, however. He was steadfast in his protection of persecuted Jews, so long as they were not guilty of what he considered to be sins.

In 1233, for instance, Jews in France complained to Gregory that they were being mistreated. He declare that any imprisoned Jews were to be set free and not injured in their person or their property, so long as they agreed to forsake usury (the practice of charging high rates of interest, considered to be sinful due to the Bible).

In the 1234 Decretals, Gregory declared the doctrine of perpetua servitus iudaeorum. That is, the Jews were in perpetual political servitude until Judgment Day, making them officially second-class citizens in the Empire. As abhorrent as this was, it also made Gregory treat them as a group that needed his protection, so that in 1235 he re-affirmed an earlier papal bull, Sicut Judeis ["and thus, to the Jews"], which declared their right to enjoy lawful liberty.

1236 was a busy year for Gregory. He presented a list of charges against Emperor Frederick II concerning offenses against the Jews. In September he wrote to several bishops of France, requiring them to make sure that Crusaders who had killed and robbed Jews make full restitution. He also wrote to King Louis IX of France concerning the same.

Gregory had a serious problem, however, with the Talmud. He had to determine if it fell into the category of "heresy." His conclusion was harsh, but fortunately not universally accepted. We will look at that tomorrow.

Miracle in Cupertino

St. Joseph of Cupertino levitating

In the United States these days (and probably elsewhere in the world), the name Cupertino evokes the hometown of Apple, maker of computers and iPhones and a few other things. To a different population, however, Cupertino is a village in the "heel" of the Italian peninsula. The two Cupertinos are linked: much of California was explored by christian missionaries (many of them Jesuits) who founded towns named for saints or other holy images. The Cupertino in California is named for Saint Joseph of Cupertino.

He was born 17 June 1603* to a poor family. His father, a carpenter, died before Joseph was born, leaving debts that drove Joseph's mother from her home. In consequence, Joseph was born in a stable. From this interesting beginning, he showed a tendency toward ecstatic visions as a child, brought on by anything related to religion, including the ringing of a church bell.

Rejected by the Franciscans in 1620 because of his lack of formal education, he applied to the Capuchin friars. They took him in for a short time: his visions distracted him from his expected chores. He finally was allowed to join the Conventual friars near Cupertino, finally becoming a Catholic priest in 1628.

It is after this turning point that reports started of his levitating during his ecstatic visions while at Mass. Levitation brought a reputation for holiness and attention that was unwanted by his superiors. It also brought fears of witchcraft, and he was brought to the Inquisition, whence he was sent for observation to several different abbeys. He was put on a strict regimen for the next 35 years, fasting most of the week.

Because of his levitation (which some feared, but no line denied), he is considered the patron saint of astronauts, aviators, and travelers in the air. He is also the patron of poor students.

He died 18 September 1663.

*Yes, this is a little late for Daily Medieval, but I'm taking my inspiration from this because today is launch day for the newest iPhone.