Hildebert of Lavardin

He didn't want the titles he got, he didn't write the things people said he wrote, he wasn't the saint that some said he was, he didn't get what he asked for from the pope.

Hildebert was born c.1055 to poor parents in Lavardin in central France. Intended for an ecclesiastical life, he was probably tutored at Tours, possible under Berengar of Tours. He became a master at the school of Le Mans, where possibly he crossed paths with Gallus Anonymus. Around 1096 or 1097 he became bishop of Le Mans, but was taken hostage by William II and carried to England for about a year as part of the frequent England-France conflict started by the 1066 Conquest.

Not all his clergy agreed with his management, and he went to Rome to ask Pope Paschal II if he could resign as bishop. Paschal refused. While he was in Rome, back in Le Mans trouble was brewing. A former Benedictine named Henry of Lausanne was in Le Mans preaching against church hierarchy. The people were attracted to his preaching and had admiration for his style: he went bare foot, slept on the ground, and lived on donations. Hildebert was able to force Henry out of Le Mans, but the population was still wary of church authority and willing to disregard it at will.

In 1125, against his will, Hildebert was made archbishop of Tours by Pope Honorius II. Now it was a French king he had to contend with: he and Louis VI clashed over ecclesiastical rights, a conflict Hildebert no doubt wished to avoid from all the way back when he asked to not be a bishop anymore.

He wrote, but he was given credit for many writings that were not his. Old editions of his writings ascribe to him things written by Peter Lombard and others. He was praised after his life for the work Tractatus theologicus, but this is now attributed to Hugh of St. Victor.

He was referred to as a saint by some writers, but there is no record of him being canonized. In fact, his familiarity with Latin classics like Cicero and Ovid give his writings a style more similar to pagan authors than Christian ones. The only two serious works that are still attributed to him are a life of Hugh of Cluny and of St. Radegunda. He was known for poems. The illustration shows a piece of a 12th-century edition of his poetry.

Hildbert remained archbishop of Tours until his death on 18 December 1133.

After he ejected Henry of Lausanne from Le Mans, Henry went elsewhere to preach. A different archbishop seized him and took him before the pope to deal with him. We'll see how that went tomorrow.

Gallus Anonymus

In the past few days we've been looking at some early history of Poland. Although there are other chronicles, the person recognized as Poland's first historian is called Gallus Anonymus, or Gall Anonim in Poland. The illustration is a copy of the first folio held in the National Library of Poland of his work, the Gesta principum Polonorum ("Deeds of the Princes of the Poles"). The Gesta was written between 1112 and 1118.

The name comes not from a signature on the work itself, but from a comment made centuries later by a 16th-century Polish historian who was bishop of Warmia (a region in northern Poland). In the margin of one copy of the Gesta, this man wrote:

Gallus hanc historiam scripsit, monachus, opinor, aliquis, ut ex proemiis coniicere licet qui Boleslai tertii tempore vixit 

"Gallus wrote this history, some monk, in my opinion, who lived in the time of Boleslaus III Wrymouth, as can be conjectured from the preface."

To be frank, we don't know if the bishop meant that the author's name was Gallus, or if he was saying the author was Gallic (French). Arguments for his having been French are that the writing shows a style and level of education more consistent with that part of Europe than with early 12th-century Poland. Similarities to the style of Hildebert of Lavardin suggest that the two were educated at the same place, Le Mans. 

More recent Polish historians have suspected that Gallus may have also been the author of the Gesta Hungarorum ("Deeds of the Hungarians") and the Translatio Sancti Nicolai ("The Transfer of St. Nicholas"), about the moving of the relics of St. Nicholas to Bari in 1087. This would also suggest a strong Italian influence in his upbringing.

Because Gallus writes so much about Bolesław III, Duke of Poland, it is conjectured that he may have traveled with the Duke. The tone of Gallus' history emphasizes that the ruler's authority is superseded by God's. We see a hint of this in yesterday's post about Bolesław's blinding of Zbigniew and his subsequent excommunication, how he lost the support of the people so thoroughly. It is said that this influenced Poland's historical tendency to question authority.

Since I'm on the subject of historians, let's turn to Hildebert of Lavardin next.

Bolesław's Excommunication

I wanted to offer more detail—some of it quite grisly—on yesterday's mention of the blinding of Zbigniew of Poland by his younger brother, Duke Bolesław. Blinding someone was an efficient way of incapacitating them and rendering them ineligible for a position as a ruler. (It was okay if someone who was already a ruler went blind: no one was going to remove the efficient and crafty Enrico Dandolo from his position as Doge of Venice just because his eyesight eventually failed). Blinding an enemy and rival was quite common, as can be seen here, here, and here.

It was usually done with simply bring a red-hot poker to the eyes of the victim; the heat was damaging. The examples given above are from Western Europe and Byzantium. Zbigniew's was a little different. Medieval Poland actually removed the eyes with pliers. Sometimes the eyelids were also removed. This was not necessarily a more or less brutal method than the red-hot method, but it was just as effective. (The illustration is of a Biblical story from a Byzantine manuscript.)

Bolesław's act outraged the population. Zbigniew had done nothing wrong in their eyes.  It is thought that Archbishop Martin I of Gniezno excommunicated Bolesław, which meant not only was he unable to participate in the Sacraments, but his subjects' oaths of loyalty to him were void. A popular rebellion against the ruler was not unknown in Poland, so he had to take steps to regain his authority. That meant penance; serious penance.

Gallus Anonymus records that he fasted for 40 days and nights, and "slept in ashes and sackcloth, among the streams of tears and sobs, as he renounced communion and conversation with people." Gallus reports that Bolesław asked Zbigniew for forgiveness, and received it. That was not enough, however.

The duke then made pilgrimages to Hungary and the Abbeys of St. Giles (the Hermit) and St. Stephen I (first king of Hungary). He also went to do penance in Gniezno at the tomb of St. Adalbert of Prague, offering gifts to poor people as well as clergy (probably including Archbishop Martin). Finally the excommunication was lifted.

I keep mentioning Gallus Anonymus; since I appreciate medieval historians, I'd like to talk more about what he provides in the study of the history of Poland. See you tomorrow.

Zbigniew of Poland

Zbigniew of Poland was the first-born son of Władysław I Herman, Duke of Poland, but because he was born out of wedlock he was not considered a proper successor to Władysław. Once Władysław got himself a son, Bolesław, from his marriage to Judith of Bohemia, Zbigniew was destined for a career in the Church (the Church was a way to provide noble children with privilege without royalty).

Although at the time too young to be a priest, Zbigniew was sent to the canonry of Kraków. His first teacher was Otto, who became bishop of Bamberg.

From the chronicle of Gallus Anonymus, however, we learn how things went differently. A powerful Polish count named Sieciech forced Władysław to recognize Zbigniew as his heir while Bolesław was still very young. Sieciech had more power and control in the country than the duke, and could get support for his plans from others. Zbigniew was returned from the canonry.

As it happened, Zbigniew and Bolesław became allies and did not become pawns of Sieciech. The brothers persuaded their father to split the country between them, Zbigniew taking the north half.

Although sharing the country, Zbigniew annoyed Bolesław because, as the older of the two, he acted like he was the more important ruler and was "allowing" the younger son to rule. The two went to war against each other from 1102 - 1106. Bolesław had the greater support due to his legitimacy in the eyes of many, and Zbigniew rendered him homage and went into exile in Germany.

A few years later, Bolesław yielded to pressure from others to allow Zbigniew to return. Zbigniew started claiming the privileges of his former status, however, which did not sit well with Bolesław. Zbigniew tried to take the place at a ceremony to which only the ruler had a right. Bolesław declared this an act of treason and had Zbigniew blinded in 1112.

This act outraged the population. Archbishop Martin I excommunicated the duke. Bolesław made public penance to try to get back into the good graces of the Church and the people, and even asked (according to Gallus Anonymus) Zbigniew's forgiveness.

How and when Zbigniew died is a mystery. At the Benedictine Tyniec Abbey there is an obituary listing of 3 July 1113 of a "Brother Zbigniew." Many modern historians agree that Zbigniew was sent to live out his remaining years...that is, year.

Bolesław was now sole ruler of Poland, but did not have an easy time of it. Getting past his actions toward Zbigniew was the first hurdle, as I'll explain in more detail next time.

Duke Bolesław III

Władysław I Herman (c.1044 - June 1102) had a problem known to many nobles: he needed an heir who could succeed him as Duke of Poland. He had a son, Zbigniew (c.1073 - July 1113), who had been born out of wedlock and was ineligible for the position unless nothing better came along.

Władysław and his wife, Judith of Bohemia (c.1056 - 25 December 1086), were not producing a legitimate heir, and this was a concern. The two had been married as part of a Bohemia-Poland alliance, but five years after the wedding there was still no child. They did the only logical approach available to them: they made an offering to St. Giles the Hermit in the form of valuable gifts including a life-sized statue of a baby made of gold to the Benedictine sanctuary Saint-Gilles in Provence.

The "result" of this was Bolesław, born on...well, you would not believe how much ink has been spent on this topic. Tied to this is the date of his mother's death, and theories abound. Why? His birth had to take place before she died, but different more-or-less contemporary accounts are interpreted differently.

The first "straightforward" account that creates confusion was by a Latin account, the Gesta principum Polonorum, ("Deeds of the Princes of the Poles") by Gallus Anonymus [sic]. Composed between 1112 and 1118. Gallus says Judith gave birth on the day of St. Stephen, King of Hungary, but died on the night of Nativity. Gallus does not mention the year, but the night of Nativity should be 24-25 December. The feast of St. Stephen King of Hungary was 20 August.

Another chronicler of Bohemia, Cosmas of Prague, writes that Judith died on 24 December 1085 and Bolesław was born three days before. The Obituary List of Saint-Gilles in Provence, recipient of the couple's donation, clearly states that Judith died on 24 December 1086.

A modern historian declares that Bolesław was born on 26 December 1085 and Judith died two days later. This man claims that Gallus confused the day of Stephen King of Hungary with St. Stephen's Day (26 December).

Bolesław was lucky to be born at all—first because his parents had trouble conceiving, and second because his birth might have been so close to his mother's death that if it weren't childbirth that led to her death but illness, he might not have survived her pregnancy.

He did survive, however (that's a commemorative coin above), and ruled for just over 30 years. They weren't easy years, however, and one of the sticking points was the existence of his half-brother, Zbigniew. But that's a story for tomorrow.

Triglav and Otto and Hermann

Yesterday's post on the Zbruch Idol mentioned that one interpretation of it is that it represents Triglav, the three-headed god of the pre-Christian Slavs. His tri-partite appearance is thought to refer to Earth, Sky/Heaven, and Underworld. Ironically, the most we know about this pagan presence is from Christian biographies of the man sent to eliminate it.

Otto of Bamberg was sent by Pope Calixtus II to preach in Pomerania, on the southern shore of the Baltic Sea (between Poland and Germany). He reached the area in August 1124. Opposition drove him out of his first attempts, but he made contact with Duke Bolesław III of Lesser Poland, who was a Roman Catholic. Bolesław gave him assurances of safety and support.

In the town of Szczecin there were two temples to Triglav. One housed a black horse with a gold- and silver-plated saddle. The horse was used for prophecy. Spears were placed on the ground and the horse encouraged to walk through them. If the horse did not step on any spears, good fortune would follow in whatever the undertaking was for the immediate future.

Otto had the temples destroyed, himself destroying a wooden statue of Triglav. From another temple, however, the pagan priests took the statue of Triglav away to keep it safe. They gave it to a widow on a small farm to keep it safe, and she wrapped it in a blanket and hid it in a tree with only a small hole in the trunk through which offerings could be given.

Otto's assistant, Hermann (who later succeeded Otto as bishop of Bamberg), hearing that there was a Triglav idol available for worship, decided to find and eliminate it. He disguised himself as a mundane Slav and went searching. Finding the farm and the widow, he claimed he had been saved from the jaws of the sea and wished to give thanks to Triglav. The widow told him:

If you have been sent by him, I have here the altar which contains our god, enclosed in the hole made in an oak. You may not see him nor touch him, but rather, prostrating yourself before the trunk, take note from a prudent distance of the small hole where you must place the sacrifice you wish to make. And after offering it, once the orifice is reverently closed, go and, if you value your life, do not reveal this conversation to anybody. [Ebo, Life of Saint Otto, Bishop of Bamberg]

Hermann goes to the tree and casts a silver coin through the hole, but retrieves it and spits in the hole. He realizes that there is no easy way to get the statue out, so he looks around and sees the saddle associated with Triglav hanging on a wall. He takes the saddle as proof that he found Triglav.

Later, the decision is made by tribal chiefs to abandon the old gods and embrace Christianity. Triglav is not attested in any records outside of the stories of Otto. There are a few instances of the name in the area, however. The illustration above is of Triglav in a palace in Trzygłów, a version of the name Triglav. There is a Triglav mountain in Slovenia. The legends have led to three-headed statues placed here and there.

Otto was lucky that Duke Bolesław III was around. In fact, Duke Bolesław III was lucky that Duke Bolesław III was around. He came close to not being born. I'll tell you more about him next time.

The Zbruch Idol

A drought in August 1848 in a village in the Austrian Empire (now part of Ukraine) exposed the bottom of the Zbruch River. The villagers spotted a square limestone pillar almost nine feet tall with carvings on all four sides. By 1850 it made its way to the Kraków Scientific Society and then the Jagiellonian University (founded in 1364 by Casimir the Great). Since 1968 it has been in the Kraków Archaeological Museum.

The Zbruch Idol, as it is now called, is a remnant of the pre-Christian Slavic world (like the story of Piast). It is thought to represent Svetovit, god of abundance and war, who had four heads. Each side of the pillar has a head carved at the top. Svetovit is often shown with a horn of plenty, a saddle and bit, and is associated with a white stallion and eagles.

Three of the four sides have at their base a man kneeling who is supporting the upper parts; the fourth side is blank. Above the base is another figure on each side, one of whom seems to be a child. The four faces at the top each are paired with something different: a ring, a horn (drinking or cornucopia?), a sword and horse, and a solar symbol.

Debates abound. One scholar sees it as four separate deities, two male and two female, and that the whole is a phallic symbol representing Rod, god of families. He links the symbols with each deity. One scholar claims the tri-level carvings represent the three levels of the world: Sky, Earth, Underworld) and the three-headed Slavic deity Triglav.

One person even claims the whole thing is a fake, created by the Polish poet Tymon Zaborowski, whose estate was near the finding spot and whose brother was the owner of the village where it was found. Tymon died in 1828, 20 years before the finding. It is difficult to conjure a reason for the deception.

Assuming it is authentic, it is an interesting piece that represents pre-Christian Slavic mythology.

You can see an outline of the figures here, and you can purchase a 7.5" replica here.

About the deity Triglav: he was represented with three heads (Slavic mythology seemed to like multi-headed figures), which would make you think Christian missionaries explaining the Holy Trinity would have an easier time of it. But that was not the case, as we'll see tomorrow 

Our Lady of the Pillar

In the early days of Christianity, legend has it that the Apostles dispersed across the known world to spread the words of Jesus. (We mentioned not too long ago how Thomas went to India.) Supposedly, James the Greater went as far as Hispania, the Iberian Peninsula. 

The Apostles experienced difficulties and dangers while preaching, and James was no exception. In 40 CE, while in despair of making progress and praying in Caesaraugusta (later Zaragoza), Mary appeared to him surrounded by a myriad angels, offering moral support.

This was not an appearance of Mary from Heaven. She wasn't dead. She was living in Jerusalem at the time. This was an example of bi-location—the ability to appear in two places at once—a trait sometimes attributed to saints. (The Council of Reims in 1148 called for the arrest of a Breton heretic who was said to be able to bi-locate because of his saintliness. He was arrested, tortured, and killed.)

Note the lack of a pillar in this anecdote. Although Christian tombs in Caesaraugusta from the Roman period do show evidence of devotion to Mary, the epithet is not attached to the name until much later:

The first written mention of the Virgin of Zaragoza comes from a bishop in the middle of the twelfth century, and Zaragoza's co-cathedral's name did not originally include a reference to El Pilar, being called Santa Maria Mayor. In 1296, Pope Boniface VIII conferred an indulgence on pilgrims visiting this shrine but still without mention of Our Lady of the Pillar. One of the legal councils of Zaragoza first wrote about Our Lady under this title in 1299, promising safety and privileges to pilgrims who came to visit the shrine. In 1456, Pope Calixtus III issued a bull encouraging pilgrimage to Our Lady of the Pillar and confirming the name and the miraculous origin. So, despite the lack of early extant texts about the miracle story and the name of this devotion, the enduring tradition delivers the story to us today. [link]

What was the significance of the pillar? The pillar was a votive column, the combination of a pillar with a votive image on it. In the Cathedral Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar in Zaragoza in Aragon you will find the column with a wooden image of Mary on it (see illustration).

Columns to commemorate an event of a person were not uncommon. Consider the Frankish irminsul, or the Native American totem pole, likewise with spiritual significance. A drought in 1848 in Galicia uncovered, at the bottom. of a lake, a 9th-century column that startled historians. Tomorrow I'll tell you about the Zbruch Idol.

Blanche and John

After King Ferdinand I of Aragon annexed Sicily and dismissed Blanche as its regent, she returned to Navarre, where Ferdinand arranged her marriage to his son, John (called "the Great" and "the Faithless"), who was 11 years her junior.

Through Blanche's position as her father's heir, she and John became queen and king of Navarre upon the death of Carlos III on 8 September 1425, although their coronations did not take place until 15 May 1429.

Blanche devoted herself to religious causes. She supported several charities and founded hermitages. She supported the hermitage of Santa Brígida near Olite, the royal seat of her father.

In 1433, she made a pilgrimage to Santa María del Pilar (Cathedral Basilica of Our Lady of the Pillar) in Zaragoza, in Aragon. With her went her eldest son by John, Charles of Viana (1421 - 1461), and John's royal chamberlain, Juan Vélaz de Medrano IV, who had been Carlos III's chamberlain.

During the pilgrimage, she established a chivalric brotherhood consisting of her son Charles, 15 men and nine women. They were all committed to regular fasting, almsgiving, prayer, and vigil observances of important holy days. They wore blue sashes (symbolic of the Virgin Mary) embroidered with a gold pillar and the motto  A ti me arrimo ("I lean on you").

Blanche and John had three children besides Charles. Joan of Navarre only lived a couple years (1423 - 22 August 1425). Blanche of Navarre (1424 - 1464) married Henry IV of Castile but never consummated it in 13 years, after which Henry divorced her. Eleanor, born 1426, became Queen of Navarre until her death in 1479.

When Blanche died on 1 April 1441, she was buried in the church of Santa María la Real de Nieva. The illustration shows a likeness of her in that church.

So...what was the deal with the pillar? How was Mary associated with a pillar in Spain? That's a story for tomorrow.

Blanche I of Navarre

After the death of her sister Joan in 1413, Blanche (6 July 1387 - 1 April 1441), the second surviving daughter of King Carlos II and Eleanor, became the heir to the throne of Navarre. She had not been quietly "waiting in the wings," however: she had already become prominent in another country.

In May 1402, when Blanche was on the cusp of turning 15, she was married by proxy to the king of Sicily, Martin the Younger. Martin was 28, and needed an heir, since his first wife, Maria of Sicily, and their son had predeceased him. Sicily seems a long way from the Iberian Peninsula, but Martin was from Aragon (his father was later King Martin I of Aragon), and so the two families were known to each other.

Blanche traveled to Sicily in December to consummate the marriage. Martin traveled to Aragon shortly after, leaving his teen bride as regent. In 1408-09, she was again regent as Martin traveled to and conquered Sardinia. Unfortunately, Martin died in Sardinia that year.

The throne of Sicily then went to Martin's father, Martin I of Aragon (father and son were also known as "the Elder" and "the Younger"). Martin senior allowed Blanche to remain as his regent in Sicily, a position she retained after 1410 when Martin the Elder died. Sicily saw her presence as a symbol of independence from Aragon, and the population supported her remaining in Sicily. There were plans to have her marry a member of the deposed Sicilian royal house, Nicolás Peralta, to restore the throne to a Sicilian. In Aragon, Martin's successor, Ferdinand I, annexed Sicily and removed Blanche as regent. She returned to Navarre.

In 1415 she was declared heir to the throne of Navarre. In 1419, she married the son of Ferdinand I, John. The two were married in Pamplona on 10 July 1420.

King Carlos III died on 8 September 1425. Blanche became Queen Blanche I, and her husband became King John II of Aragon. Tomorrow we'll talk about little about their marriage together and some events they shared.

Eleanor, Queen of Navarre

After the embarrassment of returning to Navarre from Castile with her daughters to find the palace filled with her husband's concubines and illegitimate children, Eleanor took her daughters back to Castile to the court of her brother John.

King John I of Castile died in October 1390, however, and was succeeded by his son Henry. Eleanor disapproved of her nephew, and with some allies formed the League of Lillo to depose him. Her plan failed, and Henry forced her to return to Navarre and King Carlos in February 1395.

Things changed: she became involved in Navarre politics, and the relationship with Carlos improved. They had two sons, Charles and Louis, both of whom died young (Charles at the age of five, Louis before he was one). Their oldest daughter, Joan (1382 - 1413), was groomed as Carlos' heir to the throne.

Although the two were married when Carlos' father died and he became king, Eleanor had never been crowned officially. Her coronation finally took place on 3 June 1403 in Pamplona (the week prior to Carlos trying to make the illegitimate Lanzarot the bishop of Pamplona). You can see her coat of arms above with her royal status represented.

Eleanor was entrusted to the kingdom as regent when Carlos was away, and she worked to keep good relations between Navarre and her home of Castile. When Carlos and Eleanor both traveled, Joan was left as regent. Joan died in 1413, and the succession was settled on their third daughter, Blanche. (A second daughter, Maria, had died in 1406 at the age of 22, unmarried).

The date of Eleanor's death is debated, but by March of 1416 she had died and was interred in the Cathedral of Santa Maria la Real in Pamplona. Carlos died in 1425 at the age of 64 and was interred with her.

That leaves Blanche I, Queen of Navarre as of 8 September 1425, who married someone I have said a lot about just a couple months ago. We'll pick up her story tomorrow.

Lanzarot

Lanzarot* was an illegitimate son of King Carlos III of Navarre, whose wife Eleanor of Castile only bore him daughters.  He was born 15 April 1386 to one of Carlos' several mistresses, while Carlos was still only a prince but was married to Eleanor.

When Carlos became king, Eleanor fell ill and repaired to Castile with their daughters; when she returned she found several mistresses and illegitimate children at the palace. Eleanor abruptly returned to Castile. Some suggest that she was afraid Lanzarot would have a better claim to the throne than her daughters, even though the laws of Navarre forbade it. I think it more likely that she was disgusted with her husband—their marriage was strictly political in execution—and wanted to be away from him.

Kings often treated their bastards well. Lanzarot was given a religious education along with a coat of arms (see illustration). In 1397 he was at a grammar school in Pamplona, and in 1403 he and his brother Godfrey went to the University of Toulouse. In that year Carlos had two archdeacons nominate Lanzarot to become a bishop, but Pope Benedict XIII would only allow Lanzarot to be an apostolic notary (essentially a document secretary) and an archdeacon of Calahorra in Castile. The Castilians objected.

In 1406 the See of Pamplona became vacant, and Carlos wanted Lanzarot in the position. The pope refused, and in 1407 Castile finally accepted Lanzarot as an archdeacon. Benedict was in Avignon, and this was the time of the Western Schism  when there were three popes in contention for authority. When Pope Gregory XII in Rome started gaining the upper hand, Benedict decided he needed more allies and accepted Carlos' request. Lanzarot would still not be a bishop, but was made a vicar general to oversee Pamplona; the actual bishopric position remained vacant. Then, in 1418, he was made titular bishop of Alexandria.**

Following in his father's footsteps, Lanzarot had illegitimate children, Margaret and John. A lavish lifestyle was partially supported by his father, but he did not have a diocese to support him, and died leaving large debts. He was buried in the Cathedral of Pamplona after dying on 8 January 1420.

By that time, his "step-mother" Eleanor had died, but let us return to see what the rest of her life was like after the shock of finding her husband living with several mistresses.

*Note: He was also known as Lancelot of Navarre, but because the Arthurian Lancelot has been mentioned in this blog, I don't want any confusion during a search.

**If you wanted to give someone the title of bishop but no power, you gave them the title to a bishopric that no longer existed. Alexandria was no longer under Roman rule, so Lanzarot could be called bishop but didn't have control of a diocese. Since promoting someone to bishop was a nice reward for performance, there are more Roman Catholic bishops than there are dioceses. I have personally known titular bishops of Tanudaia and Tabucaira, long-lost dioceses from the past.

King Carlos and Queen Eleanor

I mentioned yesterday how King Carlos III of Navarre brought in midwives from Toledo to help his wife. The reality is, of course, that wanting a successful and safe childbirth on the part of a king is more likely motivated by a desire to have a proper line of succession than it is his desire to keep his wife safe. Sorry: that's a rather cynical approach to the marriage of Carlos and Eleanor.

Or is it?

Carlos, called "the Noble," was born 22 July 1361 to King Carlos II "the Bad" of Navarre and Joan of Valois, whose father was King John II of France. His parents traveled frequently between Navarre and the French lands that came with Joan's dowry, often leaving the children behind. Joan died suddenly in 1373, when young Carlos was not yet a teenager. It is possible that he did not have a role model for how a husband and wife should interact.

Two years later, young Carlos was married to the two-years-younger Eleanor, daughter of King Henry II of Castile. The marriage was designed to make peace between Navarre and Castile, each of whom would have liked the other's lands.

Three years after that, in 1378, Carlos was sent by his father to meet with King Charles V of France, Carlos' mother's brother. Charles arrested Carlos, and interrogated him to prove the suspicion that Carlos II intended to seize a Castilian town that had once been part of Navarre. Carlos confessed his father's plans. Charles V then invaded his brother-in-law's Navarre and forced him to sign a treaty to promise peace between Navarre and Castile.

Carlos remained under arrest, until in 1381 Eleanor asked her brother John, now King of Castile, to appeal to France to release her husband. Carlos was released and joined her in Castile. A year later, they had their first child, Joan. The next few years saw two more daughters, Marie and Blanche. A year later Eleanor bore twin daughters, but one died young leaving Beatrice.

1387 saw the death of Carlos' father and Carlos' accession to the throne on 1 January; Eleanor and daughters moved to Navarre to be with him. Eleanor fell ill, however, and returned to Castile with their daughters. For the next seven years, she refused to return to Navarre, despite Carlos' wishes. Her brother the king tried to persuade her that she had royal obligations, but she claimed that Carlos did not treat her well, and that the Court did not like her; she even claimed suspicion that some wanted to poison her.

(To be fair, the fact that she bore only daughters would motivate some courtiers to want her out of the way for a new bride who might bear a son.)

When she did return to Navarre, things between the couple got worse: she found four mistresses and six illegitimate children living at Court, at least one of whom was male, a boy named Lanzarot.

We will now take a "side trip" and follow Lanzarot before coming back to Eleanor and the succession.

Some Midwives

Although discussions of midwifery recently emphasized how they were considered lower in status than licensed medical professionals, they were still vital in a community. Subsequently, we do know the names of a few. (Although Trotula was often referred to as a midwife, she never discussed childbirth in any of her works.)

Many of the midwives whose names have come down to us are known because they were employed by nobles who kept records, or tax records that name professions along with the person taxed.

England in the 14th century names a few women in poll tax records as midwives. Felicia Tracy in Canterbury was one, as were Matilda Kembere and Margery Josy in Reading.

Royals wanting help in birth from someone experienced in the matter hired Asseline Alexandre in the 1370s to aid the Duchess of Burgundy in her pregnancies. At least one French queen hired a midwife named Bourgot L'Obliere.

On the Iberian Peninsula, King Carlos III of Navarre (1361 - 1425) brought the Muslim midwives Blanca and Xenci from Toledo to be a part of his court for the health of his wife, Queen Eleanor. She successfully bore several children (including Blanche I), so the move was a good one.

Muslim midwives continued to be employed at this court. King Carlos' daughter Blanche, who became queen of Navarre, was attended by a mother-daughter pair of midwives called doña Fatima and doña Haxa.

One name of a midwife, unfortunately, survived in records because she was put on trial. The Jewish midwife Floreta, widow of Aquinon d'Ays, was brought to trial in Marseilles in 1403. The charge was that she performed a procedure that caused the patient's haemorrhaging and death. Although we do not know the final outcome of the trial, trial records list her defense, and the statements of other women present, all Christian. It has been called an instance of anti-Semitism at a time and in a place where it was not hitherto noted.

The man who brought midwives to help his wife seems like a devoted, loving husband. But that may not exactly have been the case for Carlos III. Let's find out more about him next time.

Midwife Regulations

As mentioned yesterday, midwifery was one of the few professions that was not considered worthy of a guild early on. That may be partially because guilds generally required some literacy and the women who became midwives likely had little to no formal education. Also, men neglected issues of women's health

Lack of a guild meant no regulation, no "entrance exam," no oversight or laws involved. This could be a benefit, since a woman acting as a midwife was "under the radar" of any interference. She was called in by the family to help in their time of need. Her position in the community was as a trusted neighbor whose presence and experience was a comfort, and worthy of compensation by the family of the mother.

As formal medical education was developed during the rise of universities, those practicing in the field of health without formal education started being criticized.

Early in the 13th century, female health workers, long accustomed to the trust and respect of their patients, began to face opposition. Barred from most European universities because of their gender and thus denied academic training in medicine, they were considered ineligible as healers, and those who persisted often met with capricious, even harsh punishment. [source]

The next century saw some municipal acceptance of midwives. The accounts of Bruges have an item in 1312, for example: "Communal expenses – Two midwives who were called to see a newborn infant found in front of the city walls on Christmas Eve, 20 solidi." What to do with an abandoned baby? Call a couple of midwives who could be trusted to care for a newborn, and give them 20 solidi for its care.

Requiring a license granted by an institution did not become widespread until the 15th century. Regensburg in 1452 is the earliest known example, and of course it established a hierarchy with men at the peak. Besides municipalities and guilds and universities, the Church also was interested in having a hand in what a midwife did.

The Church's involvement was to ensure that newborns were properly baptized:

Ecclesiastical and municipal authorities each recognized that they could rely on midwives as representatives, both in the birthing chamber and on the witness stand. Midwives preserved the life of the mothers and children, and both groups agreed that they should preserve the life of a baby over a dying mother. They both recognized that emergency baptism was a vital responsibility for the midwife as well. [source]

Midwives were willing to accept this relationship:

It was in the midwives’ best interest, therefore, to carve out a niche for themselves as agents of both ecclesiastical and municipal officials. As midwives became limited in some ways, therefore, their agency, increased. Midwives became important tools of ecclesiastical authorities. [source]

As midwifery evolved into a more formally recognized role in society, some midwives made names for themselves and wound up in historical records. I'll introduce you to a few tomorrow.