Margery Kempe

Margery Brunham was born about 1373 in Bishop's (now King's) Lynn, Norfolk. Her father was mayor for a short time and a member of Parliament. We do not know anything about her upbringing, but later events suggest clearly that she never learned to read or write. Around the age of 20 she married John Kempe. What we know of her comes from The Book of Margery Kempe, which she dictated later in life. It may be the first autobiography.

After her eldest was born (a son named John), postpartum depression seems to have set in. She went through eight very difficult months in which she imagined herself being attacked by devils who wanted her to abandon her faith; she was even urged to suicide, which sounds like deep depression.

Along with these demonic visions, she had one of Jesus asking her why she had forsaken him? She began to have conversations with Jesus, Mary, God, and other religious figures. She also had visions of being present at both Jesus' birth and Crucifixion. One modern scholar claims she looked for ways to live a chaste life. The definition of "chaste" would have to be very flexible, since she had 13 additional children.

Having finally escaped whatever disturbed state she was in, she got busy. First she began to brew beer, referring to herself later as one of the greatest brewers in town. That business eventually failed when her employees all left her. She then bought two horses and started a grain-grinding business. The horses, however, refused to cooperate, and that business failed.

That is when she decided to devote herself to a more religious life. This would include sexual chastity, but her husband had some thoughts about that. They finally negotiated a chaste marriage, but he had conditions:

1. They share a bed still
2. Margery had to pay all his debts
3. Margery had to make him a fish supper every Friday

This was sufficient for her. #1 was okay, so long as there was no sex (but remember all the children? Yeah, chastity is tough and temptation is easy). #2 must have been possible with Brunham family money, since she was no longer running a business. #3...well, she had to eat supper, too.

She then engaged in her own form of public worship which involved loud wailing. This was very off-putting for onlookers, but at least it made an impression of someone who was in the grip of a powerful religious experience.

She started to "spread the word" in England and on pilgrimages; I'll talk more about that phase of her life tomorrow.

Saint Bridget's Visions

St. Bridget of Sweden (c.1303 - 23 July 1373) began her life as Birgitta Birgersdotter. Her childhood might have been quite normal as the daughter of an upper-class knight and law speaker, until she was 10 years old. That was when she had her first vision.

She saw a vision of Jesus hanging on the cross. She asked the vision who did this to him, and he replied "They who despise me, and spurn my love for them." She became devoted to studying the suffering and crucifixion of Christ.

She received visions throughout her life, which were recorded by her and translated into Latin in Revelationes coelestes ("Celestial revelations") by her confessor. The sharing of these revelations increased her celebrity and put her in good company with Julian of Norwich and Margery Kempe.

Some of her visions described scenes that influenced art for years to come. One was of the baby Jesus lying on swaddling clothes with light coming from him, with the Virgin Mary kneeling next to him in prayer. Another vision with both Joseph and Mary kneeling to either side of the babe—first described by her—is now a very common Christmas tableau.

Another vision came to her after she deliberately prayed hard and long over time to know the answer to the question "how many blows did Jesus receive during the Passion?" He appeared to her and said "I received 5480 blows upon My Body. If you wish to honor them in some way, recite fifteen Our Fathers and fifteen Hail Marys with the following Prayers, which I Myself shall teach you, for an entire year. When the year is finished, you will have honored each of My Wounds." Because the prayers in Latin would begin with "O Jesu" or "O Domine Jesu Christi," they were referred to as the "Fifteen Os" and became part of medieval prayer books.

She even engaged in prophecy. She predicted the existence of a Vatican State. When Mussolini created the boundaries of Vatican City in 1921 they matched almost exactly the borders she foretold. Interesting how Birgitta's life influenced much of religious art and practice.

Now, however, I have mentioned another woman who saw visions as if everyone knew who she was. Tomorrow we finally look into the life of Margery Kempe: medieval, middle-class, and mystic.

Bridget of Sweden

Sweden's most celebrated saint was Birgitta Birgersdotter, the daughter of a magnate, knight, privy councilor, and the first law speaker of Uppland, Birger Persson, and Ingeborg Bengtsdotter, who was connected to the family of the kings of Sweden. Birgitta was born in 1303, and was married at 13 to Ulf Gudmarsson, with whom she had four sons and four daughters.

In her 30s, she was made the chief lady-in-waiting to Blanche of Namur, the new queen of Sweden, wife of King Magnus IV.

Birgitta was known for her charitable works and her piety. In 1341 she and Ulf went on a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. Ulf died shortly after their return; Birgitta then joined the Third Order of St. Francis, devoting herself to caring for those less fortunate.

She also, as was common for many devout and wealthy women at the time, decided to found a religious order, the order of the Most Holy Saviour. Their monastery at Vadstena was supported by King Magnus and Queen Blanche. This was a double monastery, with accommodation for both men and women (although they lived separately). A requirement for joining was to give to the poor all your surplus income, but you were allowed to keep any and all books you owned.

In 1350 she went to Rome with her daughter Catherine to seek permission from the Pope to make her new order official. Rome, however, was no longer the seat of the papacy, it having been removed to Avignon some years earlier. Birgitta stayed in Rome, waiting for a pope, and continuing to perform good works, making herself so beloved that when Pope Urban V tried to restore the papacy to Rome, his confirmation of her new order was a foregone conclusion. She stayed in Rome until her death in 1373, making the occasional pilgrimage to Jerusalem and Bethlehem.

Her directions sent to Sweden to set up the monastery was for an abbess symbolizing the Virgin Mary to rule over both men and women.

She was canonized in 1391 by Pope Boniface IX, confirmed by the Council of Constance in 1415.

There is more to the story of how Birgitta Birgersdotter became Saint Bridget, including visions and prophecies. We'll look at the mystical side of her life tomorrow.

Double Monasteries

Double monasteries, such as the one mentioned in this post, was a monastery that combined two communities, one of men and one of women. They would live separately, but they might share some facilities, such as the church. They were often created by wealthy women who wished to rule a community of nuns but would also create a separate-but-equal community of men. The community of men might include priests who would celebrate mass for the entire community.

The practice began as early as the 4th century in Eastern Christianity (Eastern and Southeastern Europe, Western Asia, the Middle East); John Cassian founded one, and Caesarius of Arles created one for his sister and women attached to his own. Columbanus brought the idea of the double (or dual) monastery to Britain, after which it became popular in Gaul and Anglo-Saxon England. Hilda of Whitby was going to attend Chelles, but was trained in. monasticism by Bishop Aidan of Lindisfarne and stayed in England and started Whitby Abbey.

The Second Council of Nicaea forbade double monasteries in Canon 20 "because this becomes a cause of scandal and a stumbling block for ordinary folk." Although they allowed existing dual monasteries to be "grandfathered," no new ones should be created, but 

Monks and nuns should not live in one monastic building, because adultery takes advantage of such cohabitation. No monk should have the licence to speak in private with a nun, nor any nun with a monk. A monk should not sleep in a female monastery, nor should he eat alone with a nun. When the necessary nourishment is being carried from the male area for the nuns, the female superior, accompanied by one of the older nuns, should receive it outside the door. And if it should happen that a monk wishes to pay a visit to one of his female relatives, let him speak with her in the presence of the female superior, but briefly and rapidly, and let him leave her quickly.

After the 12th century, dual monasteries became popular briefly, although eventually most monasteries evolved into wholly separate communities. In Sweden, however, the idea of a double monastery experienced a revival in the 14th century, especially due to the Bridgettines. I'll tell you who they were next time.

Walpurgis Night

“There is a mountain very high and bare…whereon it is given out that witches hold their dance on Walpurgis night.” (Jacob Grimm, 1883)

There is a legend in Germany that witches have an annual meeting on the Brocken, the highest peak of the Harz Mountains. In fear of the witches, the inhabitants of the area would light bonfires and ring church bells. This took place at the end of the year, on the night of April 30th: some culturally significant ways of looking at the annual cycle started the year on May 1st.

Into this likely very old practice we fold the extra ingredient of St. Walburga. Walburga came to Germany in the 8th century and founded a double monastery at Heidenheim. Her work converted many in Germany from heathenism to Christianity. She was considered a powerful deterrent to witchcraft. Her feast day was May 1st, the day that she was canonized (in 870) as well as the day her relics were transferred from Heidenheim to Eichstätt.

So the night of lighting bonfires, ringing church bells, and group gatherings to ward off witchcraft were celebrated on the eve of Walburga's Day, so the night of April 30th. In Germany this is called Walpurgisnacht. This is of course similar to the Gaelic festival of Beltane, celebrated on May 1st. Beltane and Samhain (which we call Halloween) divided the year neatly into two halves.

Walpurgisnacht is observed outside of Germany as well, and has become a time of merry gatherings with food and entertainment as well as bonfires. It is also called Valborgsmässoafton ("Valborg's Mass Eve", Swedish, which is more about the arrival of spring than averting witches), Vappen (Finland Swedish), Vappu (Finnish), Volbriöö (Estonian), Valpurgijos naktis (Lithuanian), Valpurģu nakts or Valpurģi (Latvian), and čarodějnice ("witch burning") or Valpuržina noc (Czech).

Goethe wrote a poem he called die erste Walpurgisnacht ("The First Walpurgis Night"); it is brief, and you can read it here. Felix Mendelssohn wrote a cantata based on it, which can be heard here.

For something quite different, I want to look at Walburga's founding of a "double monastery." What made it double, and was that significant? Let's delve into that next time.

St. Walburga's Abbey

In the 1930s, two Benedictine abbeys were formed from the original in Eichstätt, Bavaria. One was in Thanet, where the nuns of Eichstätt bought and renovated the original 7th century complex founded by Domne Eafe. The other was in Colorado, where three nuns from Eichstätt purchased land considered by the monks that owned it to be un-farmable. With help from m ore nuns, they turned the land into a working farm; 60 years later they relocated (see illustration) to Virginia Dale, Colorado, where they remain a thriving community.

In both cases, the reason from branching out from Eichstätt was to flee from spreading Nazism.

This was not the first time nuns from the Eichstätt abbey took on a mission to America, however. A missionary monk from Bavaria challenged the nuns of St. Walburga's in 1851 to go to America to provide proper religious instruction to German immigrants. Three nuns took a steamer a year later, arriving in New York during the July 4th celebrations. They settled in St. Marys, PA. Not longer after, joined by reinforcements from Eichstätt, they created communities in the northwest territory that would soon become the state of Minnesota.

The origin of these nuns was the Abbey of St. Walburga, founded in 1055 to properly house the relics of Walburga (c.710-779). Her tomb in her last home of the abbey of Heidenheim had originally fallen to neglect. During renovations by Bishop Otkar of Eichstätt, she appeared to him in a dream and asked him why her remains were being “trampled upon by the dirty feet of builders.” He had her remains transferred to a new building which became the current Abbey of St. Walburga, populated by Benedictine nuns. This is where her bones started to exude miraculous Oil of Saints.

"Walburga" sounds like "Walpurgis"; is there a connection? Let's find out tomorrow.

Domne Eafe, Mother & Saint

The mother of Saint Mildred was Domne Eafe—also Domneva, or Lady Eva—a great-granddaughter of King Æthelbert of Kent. She married King Merewalh of Mercia. They had at least three children, three daughters who all became abbesses and saints. There was supposedly a son who died early (called Merlin in some later legends).

Domneva had two brothers— Æthelbert and Æthelred who were being raised by King Eorcenbert of Kent, —a grandson of Æthelbert through Eadbald. When he died, Eorcenbert's son Ecgbert killed Æthelbert and Æthelred. Feeling guilty, Ecgbert gave Domneva land in Thanet as wergild to build an abbey.

A later legend goes into detail about the land granted by King Ecgbert: she was to be given as much land as her pet deer could run around in a single lap. The result was 80 sulungs of land. A sulung was a local Kentish unit of measurement, the amount that could be ploughed by four ox-pairs. Put another way, a sulung was two hides, and a hide was the equivalent of 120 acres, the amount a household needed to thrive. To the Anglo-Saxons, a hide was also the unit on which public obligations (taxes, supporting the lord in times of war, etc.) were based.

So she got an enormous space to use. To be fair, it is unlikely that the legend is true and she got that much (19,200 acres), but there was enough land to give her standing in the wider community as well as the status that being an abbess offers. Her name appears in many charters of the time as a witness, as well as the beneficiary of grants.

Domneva ran the abbey along Benedictine rules. She was succeeded by her daughter, St. Mildred. Mildred was followed as abbess about 733 by Eadburga, a friend and student of Mildred who also became a saint. You can see Domneva in the illustration, flanked by her two successors. By Eadburga's time the abbey had 70 nuns. She secured some royal charters to ensure its growth and continuation, and built a new church dedicated to Saints Peter and Paul, which housed the relics of St. Mildred.

Although the abbey was dissolved by Henry VIII and had various uses over the years, it was bought in 1937 by Benedictine nuns from St.Walburga's Abbey in Eichstätt in Bavaria. Why did Benedictine nuns in Bavaria want to revive an abbey in England? This was not just a 20th century story, nor just a European story. I'll explain that tomorrow.

Saint Mildred

Well, that is what a modern world would call her. To the Anglo-Saxons, she was Mildrith (also Mildthryth or Mildryth). Her father was a king: King Merewalh of Magonsaete (a sub-kingdom of Mercia, in modern Hereford; his father might have been Penda). A great-great-granddaughter of Æthelbert (through his and Bertha's son, Eadbald), she was born about 660 and lived about 70 years.

A hagiography in the 11th century says that she was educated at the Abbey at Chelles, suggesting that she was linked to the Merovingian royal line, probably through her mother, Domne Eafe. While there, a young nobleman asked for her hand in marriage, but she replied that she was there to learn, not be married. The abbess tried to persuade her by every possible means to be married, but Mildred refused. The frustrated abbess threw her into a hot oven, but after three hours Mildred was unscathed.

The abbess then beat her and tore out a hank of her hair. Mildred wrote to her mother, enclosing the hair that had been torn out, and her mother immediately sent ships to rescue her. Mildred escaped the abbess on her own and found passage back to England, leaving her footprint embedded in a stone at the place where she first disembarked from the ship. She then joined her mother at Minster-in-Thanet  (which her mother had established). Mildred became abbess in 694.

She was popular on the continent: there are several shrines/mentions of her in the Pas-de-Calais area of northern France. She died in Minster-in-Thanet some time after 732 after a lingering illness and was buried at the Abbey's Church of St. Mary.

Mildred's remains were moved to a new abbey church of Saints Peter and Paul, built by her successor as abbess, Edburga, by 748. She was a very popular saint and her relics drew attention from worshippers and pilgrims.

When the Danes invaded England they captured Minster-in-Thanet in 1011. The abbey was abandoned and the church downgraded to a parish church. Mildred's relics were transferred to Canterbury and the Church of St. Augustine.

Her sisters (Milburga of Much Wenlock and Mildgyth) were also saints, but it was her mother who was really interesting. We'll look into her next time. 

St. Augustine's Abbey

When Augustine came to England in 597 to begin the process of turning its inhabitants to Christianity, one of his first acts was to found (in 598) the Monastery of Saints Peter and Paul.

The land and building (formerly a temple) was given to Augustine by King Æthelbert, whose wife (Queen Bertha) was Christian. The king gave it so that Augustine and his followers had a place to live, and gave gifts to the endeavor. They also intended it to be a special place where important people (kings, abbots, bishops) would be buried. Initially it would have been built of wood, like most Saxon buildings. A stone building, such as Augustine was accustomed to in Rome, took longer, and the stone church (whose remains can be seen in the illustration) was dedicated by Æthelbert about 613.

It was the only important religious house in Kent for two centuries following its founding, and was a missionary school where classical learning was taught. It became known over time for an extensive library of both religious and secular texts, many of them produced in its own scriptorium.

In the mid-10th century, Archbishop Dunstan of Canterbury (959 - 988), reorganized the abbey along strict Benedictine rules and renamed it for St. Augustine. Another rebuilding plan was put in place after the Norman Conquest, when William had churches enlarged as imposing Romanesque structures. Unfortunately, a fire in 1168 destroyed a lot of the abbey's records, but another rebuilding campaign restored it.

After that, the complex expanded to include a great hall, a lady chapel, a brewhouse and bakehouse, land for a vineyard, and more. It succumbed to the dissolution of the monasteries under Henry VIII, who appropriated all their land and assets.

The abbey was treated better by the invading Danes: King Cnut in 1027 spared the place and granted it the possessions of the town Minster-in-Thanet, including the body of Saint Mildred. Mildred's body had miraculous powers and brought even more attention to the abbey. She was a great-great-granddaughter of Æthelbert, and I'll tell you more tomorrow.

The Liudhard Medallion

Bishop Liudhard, who followed Bertha to Kent when she married King Æthelbert, is treated like a footnote in the story of Christianizing England, but his footnote has another footnote.

In the public museum in Liverpool, England, is an exhibit of several gold medallions. They were found c.1844 in a grave at St. Martin's Church in Canterbury, the oldest Christian Saxon church in England still in use. One of these commemorates Bishop Liudhard; it was probably minted after his death but before the death of his patroness, Queen Bertha, in 601.

One side (shown here) shows a figure and the Latin inscription for Liudhard, "LEUDARDUS"; also included are the letters "EPS" denoting "EPiscopuS" (bishop). The obverse side shows a patriarchal cross: a cross with a smaller horizontal bar above the main crossbar. It is the earliest datable coin that depicts a patriarchal cross, especially one that has circles hanging from its arms.

The assumption, especially because each coin or medallion has a loop for hanging it as jewelry, is that they were part of a necklace from the grave of a woman who converted to Christianity. The other coins make for an interesting collection:

...an Italian tremissis of Justin II, a Germanic tremissis of unsure origin, a Merovingian solidus struck by Leudulf at Ivegio vico and two tremisses from southern France, the first from Saint-Bertrand-de-Comminges, the second from Agen. [link]

(A tremissis is a gold coin that is worth one-third of a solidus, hence the name which means "a third of a unit.")

The existence of the Liudhard medal requires us to see his presence in England as far more significant than the history books would typically suggest. His two-decade sojourn at the court of Æthelbert and Bertha must have made serious progress in spreading Christianity for him to have had a medallion made with his name.

After Liudhard's death, his remains were transferred from the churchyard of St. Martin's to the Church of St. Peter and St. Paul. That church was later converted to St. Augustine's Abbey. It is now a school, but let's take a look at its life as an abbey tomorrow.

Bishop Liudhard

Saint Augustine gets a lot of credit for the Gregorian Mission to the court of King Æthelbert of Kent and the mass conversions to Christianity that followed. As fertile as his efforts were, the ground had been prepared by someone else. Twenty years earlier, the Frankish princess Bertha had become Æthelbert's queen, and brought to England the Catholic Bishop Liudhard.

Originally from Senlis on the continent, he created a new parish by restoring a Roman church east of Canterbury. He dedicated it to St. Martin of Tours, making it the first Christian Saxon church in England. (The illustration is a view of the church as it exists today.)

Bede, who is the chief source of the story of the Gregorian Mission, does not say much about Liudhard at all, and we think he died not long after Augustine's arrival in 597. Liudhard would have been preaching in Kent for 20 years at that point, so might have been advanced in years. Augustine's successor as Archbishop of Canterbury, Laurence of Canterbury, had Liudhard's remains removed from St. Martin's Church and buried at the Abbey Church of St. Peter and St. Paul, which had been founded by Augustine (and was later named for him).

Thought of locally as St. Liudhard, he is given credit for a miracle in the 11th century. An artist, Abbot Spearhafoc, was given a ring by Edith of Wessex, queen of King Edward the Confessor. He lost it, and it was only found again after Spearhafoc prayed to St. Liudhard. Spearhafoc created statues for Liudhard's tomb. Liudhard was also credited for bringing rain when needed.

In the 19th century, a gold medallion was found in a grave in Canterbury with Liudhard's name on it.That sounds simple and straightforward, but it's pretty interesting. I'll explain more next time.

Saint Bertha

Augustine's mission to Christianize King Æthelbert of Kent in 597 was clearly successful, but we cannot discount the fact that he had help. He did not go alone, of course. Also, he had a powerful advocate when he arrived in Kent: Æthelbert's wife, Queen Bertha.

Bertha was a Frankish princess, the daughter of Charibert I of Paris and Ingoberga, and a granddaughter of Clovis I and Clotilde (who became a saint). Part of the marriage arrangement allowed her to bring a bishop with her, Liudhard. Bertha and Liudhard re-established a church from Roman times just outside of Canterbury dedicated to St. Martin of Tours.

By the time of Augustine's arrival, she and Æthelbert had been married about 20 years, and Christianity was not a new concept for the citizens of Kent. A biography of Bertha (unusual for women to have biographies in that era, but her royal status and connection to the Mission made for an exception) claims that, under her influence, Æthelbert actually requested Pope Gregory to send missionaries. No letters of the time support this, but the anecdote told here that precipitated the mission is considered by many to be a spurious argument of the mission created by Bede.

Bertha's ancestry might also have aided the mission in other ways: Frankish royals gave their support to the mission by adding interpreters and priests to Augustine's group as they traveled. The Franks likely also wanted Britain across the Channel (especially Kent, the closest and most powerful Anglo-Saxon kingdom), to be friendlier to the continent. (On the other hand, Gregory might have been hoping for a distant land to be more allied with the papacy than with the Franks.)

Whatever the case, Gregory wrote to Bertha in 601, complimenting her on her faith and her knowledge. The mission surely had a smoother reception than it might have if Bertha and Liudhard had not created an atmosphere amenable to Christianity for years.

Bertha had two children. Eadbald was King of Kent from 616 until 640. Æthelburh was the second wife of King Edwin, who was converted by St. Cuthbert. The date of Bertha's death is not known. She is commemorated in many places in Kent.

Another whose Christian influence on Kent should be noted is the bishop she brought with her, Liudhard. Let's take a look at this neglected man next.

Augustine's Mission and Bertha

Augustine (early 6th century - c.26 May 604) was a prior of the Abbey of St. Andrew in Rome when he was chosen by Pope Gregory to travel to Britain to bring Christianity to the Anglo-Saxons.

His chief goal was to convert King Æthelbert of Kent. The illustration shows Kent to be a fairly small area, but Æthelbert was powerful as a bretwalda and was respected and listened to by neighboring kingdoms. He was also married to a Frankish princess, Bertha. This link to the continental kingdom not only helped his influence, it made him open to Christianity, since Bertha was a practicing Christian.

Æthelbert allowed the missionaries to preach and use a church dedicated to St. Martin as a base. Æthelbert did convert, and was probably baptized at Canterbury. We don't know when he converted, but letters dated 601 from Gregory refer to him as "my son" and mention his conversion.

With the king's conversion, a community-wide conversion became possible. Augustine mentions making lots of conversions within a year of his arrival. In 598 Augustine wrote to the patriarch of Alexandria claiming he had baptized more than 10,000.

With many conversions progressing, Augustine sent one of his companions, Laurence, back to Rome with questions for Gregory about organizing the church in Britain: who could marry whom, how to deal with church robbers, consecration of bishops, relations between the churches of Britain and Gaul, etc. Messengers from Rome eventually brought a pallium from Gregory to Augustine, making him a bishop.

One bit of advice was to shift feast days of the locals to days celebration Christian martyrs, and to turn religious sites to shrines for saints.

Obviously the Gregorian Mission worked, and Augustine became the first Archbishop of Canterbury for his efforts. There is someone else who should get more credit for Britain's conversion, however, and that is Bertha. I'll tell you more about her next time.

Not Angles, but Angels and Other Wordplay

One of the anecdotes about Pope Gregory "the Great" that is most often repeated is how it came about that he sent missionaries to England.

Supposedly, about 597, he was walking through Rome and came upon a slave market where some fair-skinned and blonde-haired children were being sold. He asked what they were and was told "Angli"; that is, they were Angles. His reply was Non Anglo, sed Angeli, meaning "Not Angles but Angels." Asking where they came from he was told "Angle-lond." He decided this "Angel-Land" needed to know all about Christianity, so he sent Augustine and a contingent of missionaries to England.

Furthermore, when told that their province was Deira and their king was Aella, he replied that they would be rescued de ira ("from wrath") and that Alleluia should be sung in that land.

This story is told by Bede in 732—the illustration above of the incident is from Westminster Cathedral—and whether it actually happened is up for debate. In the illustration you can see the monk Augustine standing to the right with a staff.

There is at least one other anecdote about Gregory involving wordplay. It recounts that Gregory wanted to go to England himself to spread Christianity. At a break in his journey, while reading his Bible, a locust startled him by landing on the edge of the book. He exclaimed locusta! and then thought it was a sign to loco sta, to "stay in your place/locus."  As it happened, someone from the papal palace arrived an hour later to tell him he was needed back in Rome.

The Gregorian Mission to England by Augustine and company transformed the island. After Gregory's death he was referred to in Britain as "our Gregory," and the first biography of him was written at the monastery in Whitby. It was in England at the Synod of Whitby that customs such as the calculation of the date of Easter were made firm, and the Archbishop of Canterbury was one of the most powerful Christian offices after the pope. I'll summarize Augustine's spread across England tomorrow.

Gregory the Great

Saint Gregory the Great (c.540 - 12 March 604) started as Pope Gregory I in 590. Earlier than that he started as a prefect of Rome, though he established a monastery on the family estate (on a major road linking the Colosseum and the Circus Maximus; his father was a Roman senator), and lived as a monk for awhile before becoming a papal ambassador. He was well-educated and, thanks to his family connections we assume, probably well-versed in Imperial law.

Under his predecessor, Pelagius II, Rome and the country were in dire straits due to incursions from the Lombards that had ravaged the country. Rome was filled with poor refugees, and the Lombards were "at the gates" and overrunning the peninsula. Pelagius sent emissaries (including Gregory) to Constantinople (the seat of the Empire) to send help.

Constantinople was not helping, and when Gregory became pope in 590, he took matters into his own hands. Rome was overcrowded with people who were starving and destitute. Gregory turned out to be a very effective administrator, possibly from the influence of his father's political knowledge. He started organizing ways to help the citizens.

Charitable relief was one of his greatest triumphs, using profits from donations to churches to help the poorest among the population. He demanded that each parish seek out those in need and keep track of them. Gregory encouraged his rich acquaintances to expiate their sins by making donations to aid the poor. If his staff (the papacy already had an accounting department) and followers would not cooperate, he replaced them. In one of his letters, he reprimands a subordinate:

I asked you most of all to take care of the poor. And if you knew of people in poverty, you should have pointed them out ... I desire that you give the woman, Pateria, forty solidi for the children's shoes and forty bushels of grain."

Famine was a large problem. The church owned over 1300 square miles of farmland which produced goods that were sold. Gregory set quotas for production, urged the people tending the land to do more, and had the results shipped to Rome to be distributed to the needy. The starving crowds in Rome started to receive—free of charge—necessities such as cheese, fish, grain, meat, oil, and wine.

Gregory was responsible for many other reforms, both political and religious. He made some changes to the order of the Mass which still pertain today, and maybe I will get to those details some day. In yesterday's post, however, I teased that he set in motion something that would make a profound change to the whole of English history. Tomorrow I'll tell you what he did outside of Rome and Italy. Stay tuned.