Transubstantiation

I'm going to start with a quotation from a website about transubstantiation and Paul to the Corinthians:

Evidently Paul believed that the words Christ had said at the Last Supper, “This is my Body,” meant that really and physically the bread is his body. In fact Christ was not merely saying that the bread was his body; he was decreeing that it should be so and that it is so. [source]

The idea that the bread and wine of the Last Supper was not just bread and wine offered symbolically was a powerful image, and it was made official Church doctrine by the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215. But the bread and wine was considered special as early as the 1st century CE as evidenced by the Didache.

The Didache (Classical Greek, "Teaching") is perhaps the earliest document outside of the Bible that deals with Christianity. Its first line is "The teaching of the Lord to the Gentiles (or Nations) by the twelve apostles." It states:

Let no one eat or drink of your Eucharist, unless they have been baptized into the name of the Lord; for concerning this also the Lord has said, 'Give not that which is holy to the dogs'.

The idea of bread and wine actually converting had its supporters and doubters, of course, and there were works written to support both sides. One of the arguments in favor was that Jesus would not lie, and so when he says "This is my body," it is to be taken as proof that the bread has somehow transformed into his flesh. Berengar of Tours, however, in the 11th century argued against any actual physical change; I mentioned this many years ago when talking about Lanfranc, who was forced to argue against Berengar partially for personal and political reasons.

It has been speculated that Hildebert of Lavardin may have studied under Berengar. Whether true or not, Hildebert did not support Berengar's views on the bread and wine. In fact, Hildebert believed just the opposite, and it is in his writings that the word "transubstantiation" is first used to describe the process spoken of by Jesus at the Last Supper. The Fourth Lateran Council took up this terminology when they said the bread and wine "transubstantiate" during the Mass.

But what about Berengar? He was obviously influential but had different ideas from some of his contemporaries. How important was he? Did he have anything else to say besides his rejection of transubstantiation? Let's talk about him next time.

The Medieval Protestant

Peter of Bruys is known to us because of the writings of two of his enemies. He was born in southeastern France and became a Roman Catholic priest who worked in Provence and Dauphiny about 1117 until 1131. He clashed strongly with the institution of which he was a member, however, and was defrocked.

The reason for the clash was his rejection of much of the trappings of the Roman Catholic Church as they had developed over the centuries, embellishing on practices that were not true to the central spirit of the Gospels. Five of his "erroneous" teachings were described by Peter the Venerable.

The first was about infant baptism. The Petrobusian point was that Jesus said "He who will believe and be baptized" will be saved. Infants did not have the capacity to believe, and baptism should be offered when they are old enough to choose it. St. Augustine of Hippo, however, had declared that baptizing infants and children was essential to save them from Original Sin.

The Petrobrusians also felt that churches and temples were unnecessary, but the Church felt it was important to have a beautiful and impressive building in which the faithful could gather.

Spurning idolatry, the followers of Peter destroyed and burned crosses, because this was the mechanism by which Jesus was killed. It should therefore not be venerated.

The Sacraments also came under fire. Communion was derided. In the words of Peter the Venerable:

They deny, not only the truth of the body and blood of the Lord, daily and constantly offered in the church through the sacrament, but declare that it is nothing at all, and ought not to be offered to God. They say, 'Oh, people, do not believe the bishops, priests, or clergy who seduce you; who, as in many things, so in the office of the altar, deceive you when they falsely profess to make the body of Christ and give it to you for the salvation of your souls.'

The idea of transubstantiation, the conversion of simple bread and wine into something more, the body and blood of Christ, was not declared official until the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215, but it had already been accepted belief for a couple centuries.

The fifth point made against them was that they rejected the idea that prayers of the living could somehow aid the dead; once dead your spirit could no longer improve.

This simplicity of devotion—washing away all the additions made by the Church to what the Gospels offered—has made him appear to be an early example of the Protestant Reformation.

I've already written how Henry of Lausanne took up these ideas and preached them himself after Peter's demise to such widespread effect that followers were called Henricians after Henry as well as Petrobrusians. The two would have been a powerful pair of preachers, except for what happened to Peter.

About the year 1131, on Good Friday, Peter of Bruys was being true to his message and burning crosses to make a cooking fire in St. Gilles near Nîmes. Apparently he had not been there long enough to have a following, and his actions outraged the population so strongly that they seized him and threw him onto the fire of burning crosses, killing him. (Enjoy the illustration of Jan Hus being burned from a 1485 Chronicle.)

I've written about transubstantiation before, but I want to revisit it and share that the first use of that term was by someone we've talked about in the past week. See you tomorrow.

More Heresy

After being slapped down at the Council of Pisa in 1135, Henry of Lausanne refused an invitation to join St. Bernard at Clairvaux, opting instead to go to the south of France where he was exposed to the ideas of another unorthodox preacher, Peter of Bruys. Peter had died a few years earlier in 1131—well, "was killed" is more accurate—but he had persuaded many to his views on the Church

The "Petrobrusian" ideas were even more radical than Henry's. Peter rejected the church policies and practices of infant baptism, veneration of crosses, building churches, prayers for the dead, and transubstantiation. Henry took up these points in his own preaching with great success.

It is a work from Peter the Venerable that we learn about this. Also known as Peter of Cluny, he wrote in 1139 a letter, Epistola adversus Petrobrusianos, "against the Petrobrusians." In it we learn what the Petrobrusian doctrine was, and he accuses Henry of preaching errors from Peter of Bruys and spreading them in all the dioceses of southern France. These errors start with recognizing the Gospel as the sole rule of faith, and lead therefore to rejecting the authority of the Church, the sacraments of the Mass, infant baptism, and the Eucharist, as well as rejecting the idea of the communion of saints, prayers for the dead, and any formal worship or liturgy. Peter Abelard also spoke out against the Petrobrusians.

Bernard was asked to debate Henry, and after a time agreed to travel to Henry's location in 1145. When he closed in on Henry's location in Toulouse, Henry left in order to avoid a confrontation. Bernard stayed and preached to any of Henry's followers who would listen, and his eloquence and piety (and reputation for miracles) brought many back to Roman orthodoxy.

Bernard went home to Clairvaux and Henry continued to preach, finally being arrested and condemned by the bishop of Toulouse to life imprisonment (imprisonment is an assumption, based on his disappearance from the historical record and no reference to execution). Bernard in 1146 wrote an open letter to the people of Toulouse, calling on them to abandon the false doctrines preached by Henry. The ideas lived on until at least 1151, however, at which time Matthew Paris tells us that a young girl, inspired by the Virgin Mary, converted many followers of Henry of Lausanne.

What happened to Peter of Bruys in 1131? That makes a good story, though not a happy one for him. I'll see you back here tomorrow.

Henry of Lausanne

When Bishop Hildebert returned to Le Mans after his visit to Rome (to ask the pope to let him resign from his position), he faced a situation that made him really not want to be the bishop anymore. Henry of Lausanne had been preaching there.

Henry was likely a Benedictine who had left the order and decided to follow his own path. In Hildebert's absence, Henry had started preaching publicly, a practice that was usually only the province of the regular clergy. Peter the Venerable wrote a pamphlet describing Henry's message: penitence was paramount, the intercession of saints was not a thing, second marriages were sinful. People responded, giving up the trappings of wealth. We are told that young men would even marry their prostitutes in order to "make honest women" of them.

One result was that the population began to reject ecclesiastical authority as unnecessary, replacing it with a simpler lifestyle. Henry and Hildebert had a public debate in which Henry's principles were shown (one person wrote) to be less heretical than simply born out of ignorance of what the Bible and Church doctrine said. Still, Hildebert banished Henry from Le Mans.

Henry went elsewhere, winding up in Arles where the archbishop arrested him and, in 1135, brought him before Pope Innocent II at the Council of Pisa. In this case a tribunal did find him heretical. He was ordered to stop his itinerant ways and go to a monastery. Supposedly he was offered a place at Clairvaux Abbey by Bernard of Clairvaux.

Bernard was a powerful influence, and association with him would have given Henry some protection (and perhaps modified his views). Henry chose instead to go to the south of France where he met Peter of Bruys. Peter was an early protestant who rejected infant baptism, veneration of crosses, building churches, prayers for the dead, and transubstantiation.

Henry adopted the ideas of Peter, and continued to preach them after Peter's death. This was not a wise career move for him, as we shall see tomorrow.

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.