The Theophylact Family

In The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, Edward Gibbon (1737 - 1794) wrote of two "sister prostitutues" whose beauty and wealth was such that they wielded great influence. Their names were Theodora and Marozia, the daughters of Count of Tusculum Theophylact I (pre-864 - 924/250 and his wife, Theodora. (The illustration is the emblem of the Counts of tusculum.)

We (as did Gibbon) are currently exploring a time and place (as so often) when records were scarce and the chroniclers (as so often) had their own agendæ. Much of what I am about to tell you comes from Liudprand of Cremona. Bishop Liudprand (c.920 - 972) was around for the actions of Theophylact and his descendants, but was certainly personally and politically opposed to them.

Theodora the mother (c. 870 – 916) was so influential that she was given the titles senatrix and patricia of Rome. Their daughters Marozia and Theodora II were also titled senatrix omnium Romanorum  ("senators of all Romans"). This was a time in Rome that is called the Saeculum obscurum ("the dark age/century"), also known as the Rule of the Harlots or the Pornocracy. Liudprand called Theodora a "shameless harlot" and claimed that Pope John X (914 - 928) was appointed pope because he was her lover.

Theophylact and Alberic I of Spoleto were instrumental in the overthrow of the antipope Christopher and putting Sergius III (possibly Theophylact's cousin) on the Chair of Peter. Alberic I married Theophylact's daughter Marozia and had five children (Alberic II among them). It is suggested by Liudprand that Marozia's eldest, who became Pope John XI, was actually the son of Marozia and Pope Sergius. Gibbon wrote that John's birth coming after Marozia's marriage to Alberic I indicates that Alberic was the father. Was Gibbon being naive or was Liudprand simply too ready to create a reason to condemn?

(Gibbon also points out that it may be the influence of Theodora and her daughters over Rome in the 9th century that led to the story—not created until the 11th century—that there was a female pope in the 9th century. This makes much more sense than believing that a woman rose to become pope within two years and was discovered when she gave birth during a procession.)

Tomorrow we'll take a closer look at the next generation, specifically Marozia, who retained the power in Rome after the death of her husband.

"Pope Joan"

Jean de Mailly was a Dominican chronicler working in Metz in northeast France in the middle of the 13th century. He wrote a history of the Diocese of Metz, in which he mentions a female pope reigning for two years about the year 1100. She was a talented woman who dressed as a man and became a notary to the pontifical Curia, then a cardinal, and finally a pope.

One day, while riding her horse, she gave birth to a son, revealing the deception. (Honestly, if she were pope for two years and at the end of that time had a son, then at least one person in her orbit knew that she was actually a woman.) With the deception revealed, she got tied to the tail of the horse, dragged around the city, then stoned to death and buried on the spot with the inscription placed over her Petre pater patrum papissae prodito partum ("Peter, Father of Fathers, betray the childbearing of the woman Pope").

This idea tickled the imagination of others, and so it became repeated and expanded. Along came Martin of Troppau, a Polish Dominican, who also wrote history. His history of the world first appeared during the pontificate of Clement IV (1265-68), but it wasn't until the third edition in 1277 that he added the story of the female pope.

Martin places the event in the 9th century, just after the death of Pope Leo IV (847-55). She was an "Englishman" named John of Mainz. Originally taken to Athens as a young girl in male clothing, she became educated until no one was her intellectual equal. She went to Rome (still disguised as a man), and earned so much respect that she was eventually made pope. During a procession from St. Peter's to the Lateran, she gave birth to a child. She died (and was buried) on the spot. Martin refers to her as Johanna. Martin himself was a papal chaplain at the Vatican, so his accounts were widely read, and the legend spread. In a later version of his history he changed the story, saying that she was deposed, imprisoned, and then lived for many years doing penance. The child grew up to become bishop of Ostia, who had her body interred at Ostia.

Later writers give her the birth name of Agnes; others said she was Gilberta. One version of the story says she was given a vision and offered eternal punishment or temporal disgrace. She chose the latter, and that is why she died on the spot after giving birth.

By the 15th century, scholars were looking at these stories and noting their improbability. Unfortunately, the 20th century enjoys escapism and conspiracy theories, and the legend of "Pope Joan" has been embellished to the point where entire books have been written to recount her "history." There is no gap in the history of popes where Joan was excised (although I wrote here, coincidentally, that one annal thought there was a gap before Leo IV, not after.) A 10th-century pope, John XII (955-64), supposedly had a concubine named Joan who was given much authority at the papal palace during his pontificate, and some have speculated that this gave rise to the idea of a "Pope Joan."

But let's say she did become pope; what was she called? She would not have taken the name "Pope Joan"! A Dominican named Bartolomeo Platina (1421-81) called her Pope John VIII. This is silly, since he should have known that there was a Pope John VIII in the 9th century, and not an inconsequential one, either. Let's talk about him next time.