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.

Midwifery

As mentioned recently, since questions of health were managed almost entirely by men, questions about specific women's health issues were neglected or left to women in an informal manner. When Guy de Chauliac mentioned midwives in his great work on surgery, it was only a mention: he declined to express details because the field was dominated by women. 

Men were not even allowed into the room when a woman was giving birth. In fact, "One Henne Vanden Damme, for having hid behind a staircase to eavesdrop upon his wife, she being in labour of childbirth, which thing doth not befit a man, for the said eavesdropping was fined 15 livres." [source]

Later in the Middle Ages there was regulation of midwifery, but midwives, unlike doctors, were not associated with any formal training. In fact, some of the early manuals produced on midwifery—by the rare individuals in the profession who were literate—do not even demonstrate current medical knowledge.

Midwives never formed into guilds, as other professions did with regularity. So far as we know, the qualifications for becoming a midwife were gained from on-the-job experience. Even Trotula, the famous female doctor and professor of medicine in Salerno, discussed many female conditions—even cosmetics—but not the subject of childbirth.

According to Joseph and Frances Gies:

During labor the midwife rubs her patient's belly with ointment to ease her travail and bring it to a quicker conclusion. She encourages the patient with comforting words. If the labor is difficult, sympathetic magic is invoked. The patient's hair is loosened and all the pins removed. Servants open all the doors, drawers, and cupboards in the house and untie all the knots...

When the baby is born, the midwife ties the umbilical cord and cuts it at four fingers' length. She washes the baby and rubs him all over with salt, then gently cleanses his palate and gums with honey, to give him an appetite. [Life in a Medieval City, pp.60-1]

Some historians have noted that the regulation of midwifery started generally around the same time as persecutions for witchcraft. This is, of course, not true in all countries, but it would be difficult to miss the similarity between two different practices of trying to place controls on a segment of society that was in a position of potential harm, either through neglect (on the part of midwives) or design (on the part of witches).

Tomorrow I'll talk about regulation, and why the Church was interested in rules and regulations for midwives.

Pregnancy and Astrology

We've been having quite the run through some Medieval Era concepts on human reproduction, notably conception and fetal development. Being the Middle Ages, of course there were theories about how objects in the night sky affected the fetus.

Aristotle's Metaphysics was given wider exposure in Western Europe after the Fourth Crusade and brought many "new" ideas to scholars. Aristotle was firm in his belief that nothing in nature happened without influence from the "supercelestial bodies," the perfect objects (sun, planets, stars) that were outside the sphere of the Moon.

A commentator on an early edition of Metaphysics expresses it this way: 

...the generation of the elements and their parts is ordered and conserved through the motion of the supercelestial bodies, and through the motion of the elements which cooperate in a general way in the production of mixtures.

There was the idea that the human form was a mirror or analog of the universe, and there were correlations between the parts of the body and the constellations and planets. This idea was so fundamental that it lasted through the Renaissance. Even as late as 1697, John Case’s The Angelical Guide Shewing Men and Women their Lott or Chance, in this Elementary Life could show (see illustration):

...a circle with astrological figures and notations surrounds an oval containing a set of illustrations of the developing fetus ... The image is accompanied by an English translation of Kerckring’s notes on the figures, which describe the age of the embryos and the anatomical parts, but no mention is made by Case of the astrological surround, or the four cherubs in the corners. The image shows how easy it was to combine new anatomical findings with old astrological systems — they did not even need to be mentioned. [source]

So the fetus develops with the help of celestial influences, not just as a purely biological process. But what happens at the end of gestation? I think we need to look at midwifery next.

How Babies Develop

We've been looking at the Medieval theories of women's reproductive systems and conception, and now it's time to see how they thought the fetus developed into a human being.

One point made in the De Secreta Mulierum, "Of the Secrets of Women," is that the fetus uses as a template (my word) not the limbs and physical features of the parents, because if a parent is deformed or blind the baby does not come out deformed or blind. Therefore, the template or "starting point" (again, my term) for a fetus must be:

 ...drawn from the four principal members, namely the cerebrum, heart, liver, and female womb or male testicles, and as a consequence it is in these members and not in other parts of the body that the fetus is said to resemble the parents.

So through what stages of development will the fetus go? You will be interested to know that:

The first matter received in the womb has the nature of milk for the first six days, for the natural heat in the male sperm and in the womb causes it to become white as milk. Then that matter is changed to the nature or color of blood that is thickened, as if it were well cooked, and this lasts nine days. During the next twelve days the members of the fetus begin to be formed.

Which organs develop first? Some say the liver, but the author of the Secreta agrees with Aristotle that it must be the heart, since the heart is "the first to live and the last to die." The heart is followed by the liver, then cerebrum, then sexual organs, etc. We also learn:

Note that with respect to the formation of the fetus the face comes first, that is of the extrinsic members, because the face of a human being is the noblest of these members.

After 33 days the form of a male or female appears, and after forty days the human nature is complete and the infant grows and opens his mouth, and his bones begin to enlarge from his natural heat.

Besides what is happening inside the womb, there are external forces that affect the fetus. Tomorrow we will look at how astrology is involved with fetal development.

Whence Do Babies Come?

Before modern medicine and studies of biology, theories of how babies developed in utero were "best guesses" based on what was observable externally. Yesterday's post related the notion that conception takes place when the seed from the father is exposed to the menses of the mother, which essentially is "food" that the seed uses to produce a baby. (This was opposed to Aristotle, who believed that the menses was the sole generating factor of the baby.)

A debate over the exact method of conception/gestation was explained in De Secreta mulierum, "Of the Secrets of Women":

Note that there is a controversy between medical authorities and philosophers, for philosophers say that the male seed has the same relationship to the female menses as an artificer does to his work. For just as a carpenter alone is the efficient cause, and the house is the effect, in that he alters and disposes the matter of the house, so the male seed alters the female menses into the form of a human being. ...

The medical authorities say the opposite, however, because man is made from the most noble material, and thus the male seed must enter the fetus materially, because the female menses is a superfluity of the second digestion and the male seed is better cooked and digested. Therefore it is necessary that it enter into the matter and substance of the fetus, for it is seen that sometimes the fetus resembles the father in genitals and in other ways, and this would be impossible if sperm were not incorporated materially. [translation by Helen Rodnite Lemay]

So philosophers (mostly male) believed that the male's seed is in the role of an artist and shapes the baby using material found inside the mother. Those who make a more clinical study of the human body were coming from what they observe of other creatures' life cycles, and believed that both bodies produced an amalgam that could become male or female. In other words:

The doctors say further that in the male seed there is a certain generating spirit which penetrates the entire seminal mass, and this spirit has the power to form all members. Just as a smith fashions iron with a hammer, this spirit disposes and softens all the members, and it is this spirit that is the efficient principle.

The philosophers, on the other hand, state that the male seed exudes as a vapor, for the womb is exceedingly porous and after the formation of the fetus the heat of the sun causes the male seed to evaporate and to leave the womb through the pores. It is evident that the womb is porous because the child receives nourishment through the pores.

I don't know what they thought the umbilical cord was for. I find references to clamping and cutting it, but not any theories as to why it existed. But here we have competing theories as to how the baby is conceived. The next question is how exactly does that small event produce a fully-formed human? Tomorrow we'll look at the chapter of the Secreta that deals with the formation of the fetus over time. See you soon.

(The illustration is actually the birth of Moses from the 14th-century Queen Mary psalter.)

Female Medicine

Yesterday's post claimed that there were few medical treatises about women as compared to those on men's health. We do have a few that we can look at, however. I have written long ago about Trotula, the first well-known female physician and professor of medicine at the medical college in Salerno in the 12th century. Three of her works are collected as La Trotula: "Book on the Conditions of Women," "On Treatments for Women," and "On Women's Cosmetics."

Trotula's contemporary Hildegarde of Bingen also wrote on women's medical matters.

One source of female medical advice was known as Secreta mulierum, "Of the Secrets of Women." Dating to the late 13th century or early 14th century, it was attributed to Albertus Magnus, but consensus says it was more likely a student or follower.

The Secreta was very popular, blending theories originally recorded by Hippocrates, Galen, and Aristiotle. These theories were more philosophical than medical. Besides discussing conception, for example, it goes in depth on how the alignment of planets and constellations influence the fetus during gestation.

It was translated into many languages over the next few centuries, and about 80 manuscripts still exist. Its apparent popularity did not save it from being placed on the Roman Catholic Index of Prohibited Books in 1605 because of its (let's say) "uncomfortable" topics.

Its take on conception is that the seed of the father interacts with the blood of menses, which is excess nutrition from the mother, expelled once each month. That "food" feeds the seed of the father during gestation, which is why menses stops: the father's seed is using it to grow the fetus. It also states that a woman on her period is dangerous and men should keep away from her. When menses stops with age, it builds up inside her and evil humors escape through her eyes and can harm others.

The Chapters of the Secreta are:

1. On the Generation of the Embryo
2. On the Formation of the Fetus
3. Concerning the Influence of the Planets
4. On the Generation of Imperfect Animals
5. On the Exit of the Fetus From the Uterus
6. Concerning Monsters in Nature
7. On the Signs of Conception
8. On the Signs of Whether a Male or Female Is In the Uterus
9. On the Signs of Corruption of Virginity
10. On the Signs of Chastity
11. Concerning a Defect of the Womb
12. Concerning Impediments to Conception
13. On the Generation of the Sperm

Tomorrow we'll look into the Chapters on the development of the baby inside. See you then.

Controlling the Flow

Yesterday's post about menstruation left with the question: How did women deal with it? Well, it was pretty much the same way they deal with it today. They just did not have pre-made options that could pick up at a store, and had to devise their own articles of hygiene.

The Old English Herbarium, translated from Latin in the 11th century, includes in two places the same advice: "For a woman's menses, take the confirma [comfrey] plant, pound it into fine powder, and give it to drink in wine. The flow will quickly stop." This suggestion to stop the flow would not work, of course.

From the same source comes this suggestion:

“For a woman's menses, take the same plant [called urtica or nettle], pounded thoroughly in a mortar so that it is very soft. Add to it a little honey, take some moist wool that has been teased, and then use it to smear the genitals with the medication. Then give it to the woman, so that she can lay it under her. That same day, it will stop the bleeding.”

Exposure to nettles causes very uncomfortable itching, which makes application of this to the body an odd choice.

Physical means to stop the flow were as they are today, just not available at the grocery store. Cloth was the obvious solution. "Roman women used wool tampons. Women in ancient Japan fashioned tampons out of paper, held them in place with a bandage, and changed them 10 to 12 times a day." [source] In England, there is evidence that sphagnum moss was used because of its absorbent property; it is also called "blood moss" for this reason, and/or because it was used as a battlefield dressing for wounds.

The illustration shows a woman with her genitals exposed, apparently demonstrating how cloth can be folded into a cone-shape to be used to stop the flow.

The other issue is the aching that takes place during menses. The Herbarium had a suggestion for this, as well: “This plant, which is called thyaspis takes away all painful congestion in the abdomen and it also stimulates a woman's menses.” Thyapsis was also known as Shepherd's Purse.

The lack of discussion in medical texts about this topic likely stems from the fact that most medical treatises were written by men who considered the subject taboo, or were simply not interested in it. There were, however, women (and men) who did write on the subject of female health, and we'll look at some starting tomorrow.

The Medieval Period

Hamlet referred to the "thousand natural ills that flesh is heir to." Throughout the history of humankind, headaches and tiredness, aches and pains, sore feet and sore backs, and all manner of bodily illnesses have been shared by billions of us. For half of humanity, going back millions of years, there existed the problem of the monthly flow of blood in adult females called menstruation.

There is a wide range of products on the market to deal with the monthly period, but how did people deal with it centuries ago?

Men never experienced menstruation, and therefore could not completely understand it, so they made theories. Pliny, a popular source of Classical and Medieval knowledge, thought it was sorcery; in his Naturalis Historia he wrote:

It would indeed be a difficult matter to find anything which is productive of more marvelous effects than the menstrual discharge. On the approach of a woman in this state, must will become sour, seeds which are touched by her become sterile, grafts wither away, garden plants are parched up, and the fruit will fall from the tree beneath which she sits. Her very look, even, will dim the brightness of mirrors, blunt the edge of steel, and take away the polish from ivory. A swarm of bees, if looked upon by her, will die immediately; brass and iron will instantly become rusty, and emit an offensive odor; while dogs which may have tasted of the matter so discharged are seized with madness, and their bite is venomous and incurable. [Chapter 13]

And in Chapter 17, he returns to the topic:

Over and above these particulars, there is no limit to the marvelous powers attributed to females. For, in the first place, hailstorms, they say, whirlwinds, and lightning even, will be scared away by a woman uncovering her body while her monthly courses are upon her. [link]

Much has been said about whether Pliny had a sense of humor and was deliberately exaggerating in his comments. Though his letters show signs of humor, it is difficult to believe that he was "poking fun" at either his audience or the topic while writing a history of the natural world.  We also have statements from the Middle Ages such as mentioned in the False Decretals that suggest how horrible writers (no doubt all men) considered when a woman has her period.

Judaism also developed an aversion to menstruation. Leviticus 15, 18, and 20 were turned into Rabbinic Law about women in their time of "impurity."

But how about the women themselves? What did they do to deal with this monthly event? Tomorrow we'll take a look at feminine hygiene practices relating to this topic.

Medieval Forgeries, Part 4

One of the earliest discovered (so far) forgeries was the 9th-century Pseudo-Isidorean Decretals. A decretal is a papal decree concerning a point of canon law.

Pseudo Isidore is the label given to an otherwise unknown author who referred to himself as Isidore Mercator*, writing in the 840s and 850s. The collection of 60 decretals from early popes include only two authentic ones. The two are placed first, in order to give the reader assurance that all were historical.

The point of these, also called the "False Decretals," was to give more authority to Frankish prelates. The Carolingian rulers, starting with Louis the Pious, were responsible for several episcopal trials, challenging the authority of the Church over the kings, and deposing bishops. The False Decretals attempt to create an historical foundation for the Church to have more rights and authority, to have autonomy for a bishop in his diocese, and provide immunity for bishops from trial and conviction.

One of the ways the forgery was discovered was Pseudo-Isidore's tendency to have the documents make reference to events that took place after the document at hand was supposedly written.

Pseudo-Isidore could not help slipping in some personal preferences outside of the attempt to give bishops more power. In a letter purported to be from Pope Clement, Isidore includes:

De castimoniae dico cautela, cuius species multae sunt. Sed primo, ut observet unusquisque, ne menstruatae mulieri misceatur, hoc enim exsecrabile ducit lex dei.

But first that anyone should make sure not to share company with a menstruating woman, for this is considered loathsome by the law of God.

This is entirely separate from the attempt to prove episcopal autonomy, and the author's personal concern is noteworthy. This got me thinking: what did the Middle Ages think about menstruation? Well, that's obviously a new topic for a new day. See you tomorrow.

*The name seems to be a blend of two known authorities: Isidore of Seville and Marius Mercator (c.390 - c.451), who wrote anti-Pelagian treatises and to whom St. Augustine wrote at least one letter.

Medieval Forgeries, Part 3

In Parts One and Two we get the feeling that forgeries were quite common, and used to "alter history" to the benefit of an institution. One of the most famous was the Donation of Constantine, first mentioned here. It was a document from the Emperor Constantine giving the popes authority over the Western Roman Empire, until a scholar named Lorenzo Valla looked more closely and realized it was written not in 4th-century Latin but in 8th-century informal Latin. The Donation of Constantine did not work to give the popes more power.

A supposed forgery that did have a strong impact was The Ordinance of Normandy. After the Battle of Caen in 1346 (part of the Hundred Years War), the victorious English supposedly found a document that was supposedly written by Philip VI in 1338 (the year the Hundred Years War is considered to have begun).

In it, the plan for Philip and his son (later King John II) to conquer England and destroy it completely is explained. They would give all its land to French lords. This was read out in public at St. Paul's Cathedral for maximum effect and then taken to Parliament. The outrage it created among the English population helped fuel support for Edward's military plans. In our modern times, calls would be made to French officials to deny or repudiate the contents of such a document, but in 1346, it was taken at its word.

There is no evidence that this was an official French policy or plan. No originals exist in French royal records. It was a useful tool of propaganda for the English, uniting the country against its enemy across the Channel.

There was a similar document connected to the crusades. Many copies exist of a popular letter written supposedly by Emperor Alexios I Comnenos to Count Robert I of Flanders, asking for help from Western Europe against the Turks. It describes all manner of horrible acts by the Turks. There is no indication that those acts took place, or that it was composed and sent prior to Urban's calling of the First Crusade, and is most likely to have been written afterward to help keep "Crusade Fever" going.

There will be a few more examples of medieval forgeries tomorrow, then we'll move on to a related topic.

Medieval Forgeries, Part 2

Yesterday's post started the discussion of forgeries and mentioned the Abbey of Saint-Denis. Forging documents was an attempt to re-create history to change the present. Even if we can determine that a document is "un-true," the attempt to forge a document can give us insight into the medieval mind and its desire to show what a person or institution thought should happen, although it did not.

In Forgeries and Historical Writing in England, France, and Flanders, 900-1200, Robert F. Berkhofer III explains just how crafty the monks of Saint-Denis were. They wanted to make the documents—granting them ancient rights, such as independence from the bishop of Paris—not only sound advantageous to them, but also appear to be ancient:

Many of these pseudo-originals reused authentic Merovingian papyri through a clever process designed to give ancient material basis to the invented text. First, the fabricators wrote on the reverse of a genuine papyrus, imitating the handwriting on the front. Then, they erased the front, which became the ‘back’ of the forgery. To make this deception less detectable, the fragile papyri were glued onto parchment for ‘support,’ which hid the original front.

So they used an old medium for the document, and even copied the style of penmanship! Almost one-quarter of the abbey's documents from before the millennium are inauthentic. This was an enormous attempt to increase their authority and autonomy in a very methodical manner.

We'll look at more examples of trying to alter history tomorrow.

Medieval Forgeries, Part 1

Everything written is written for a reason. That reason could be to persuade, to entertain, to outrage—authors always have a purpose. Sometimes that purpose is to convince the reader of something that is simply not true.

The Making of Medieval Forgeries: False Documents in Fifteenth-century England (by Alfred Hiatt, 2004), in an overview of forgeries starting in 1066, points out that we have 208 documents from the time of William the Conqueror, but 62 were produced in the 12th century, not the 11th. Their legitimacy cannot be proven by what we know of his reign. Hiatt also relays, in the same chapter, the story of the falsarius ("falsifier") Guerno, a monk from Saint-Médard in Soissons, whose deathbed confession admitted to numerous forgeries to supplement archives in both England and on the continent.

Papal documents at Canterbury that establish the primacy of Canterbury's archbishop over the archbishop of York have been theorized (without sufficient argument to the contrary; link) to be produced by Lanfranc himself, a man who otherwise has a spotless reputation.

Forgeries could be used to assert authority, as in the Canterbury case. They could also be used to legitimize claims in court, such as when inheriting estates; to secure land rights or gain tax exemptions from the king; or even to rewrite history to avoid blame or to attribute greater glory to someone.

Forgeries can be detected by anachronisms, expressing themselves in grammatical ways or with words or references that only occurred at a later date. They could have internal inconsistencies that are easily refuted by known established facts or events. Sometimes, they are just so out of place that there is no reason to believe that they are true.

Abbeys and monasteries often produced documents on their own to convince someone that they had land rights, or independence from secular bishops or other authorities. The Abbey of Saint-Denis used many forged documents to assert its independence from the bishop of Paris. They were very clever about it, too. Tomorrow I'll tell you what techniques they used to make their documents appear authentic.

Find Prester John

Yesterday I teased information about Prester John. I wrote about him long ago (here and here), and he got mentioned in other contexts (mostly popes like Honorius III and Eugene III hoping for his aid during the Crusades, and the link to Ethiopia, since it was a Christian nation from early on).

The link to yesterday's post is because Eldad ha-Dani's description of the Bnei Moshe and the unusual geography where they lived was repeated in  letters supposedly sent to Byzantine Emperor Manuel I Comnenos in 1165 from "John, Christian Sovereign and Lord of Lords." The letter also referred to the Bnei Moshe Jewish group living in his land.

Belief in a Christian sect or nation south and east of Europe was bolstered by the stories of St. Thomas the Apostle traveling to India to evangelize. Europeans happily accepted the idea that Thomas' mission was successful. Reports of Christian inroads into the Mongols and Turks of Central Asia by Nestorian Christianity further supported the idea that (it was hoped) there was a large and influential Christian presence in other parts of the world.

The information in the letter also spoke of John's fabulous wealth. Like many medieval literary works, the legends got copied and conflated with others. For example, John later was given adventures taken right from the tales of Sinbad the Sailor.

Besides the fanciful stories of wealth and the exotic land in which he lived, communication with John from the West was much desired because of the possibility that he would meet up with the Crusades with a large army and help to defeat the Saracens in the Middle East. Pope Alexander II sent a letter to John via Alexander's physician, Philip, on 27 September 1177. There is no record of Philip's mission. It is possible that he simply disappeared into the wilderness while fruitlessly searching for his target, but if he did return, obviously there was no recorded result.

Examination of the letter that started it all suggests that, though it was written in Hebrew, the use of several Italian words means it was written by a European, likely someone Jewish living in Italy. Why would someone produce this? To create false hope for Christians? Just to have fun?

As forgeries go, this was a very powerful seed that sprouted into a legend that hung on for centuries. The illustration above shows Prester John on his throne from a 16th century map of East Africa made for Queen Mary.

Forgeries in the Middle Ages were fairly common, and we'll look at some starting tomorrow.

The Man Who Found the Lost Tribes

The Tribe of Dan, one of the 12 Tribes of Israel, was compared to a lion's whelp by Moses, signifying strength (Deuteronomy 33:22). Numbers 2:25-31 tells how they filled the rearguard while the Israelites marched through the wilderness, protecting the other tribes.

When the Israelites reached Canaan, the Danites were given territory in the western coastal plains, but suffered from encounters with the Philistines. They therefore looked for other lands to inhabit. Judges 18 tells that they moved far north and captured and renamed a peaceful city.

There are theories that they were one of the first of the tribes to travel so far that they were "lost." This brings us to the Jews in Ethiopia and Eldad ha-Dani. 

Eldad ben Maḥli ha-Dani was active c. 851 – c. 900, traveling all over and writing about his thoughts and theories. Besides being a merchant, he studied the different dialects he found during his wanderings, writing about them in his work, the Sefer Eldad, which has been a valuable resource for scholars of the languages used by Jews.

Outside of writing about language, his accounts are too fanciful to be taken at face value. He writes that he and a companion from the Tribe of Asher sailed on a boat that was wrecked in a storm, but God saved them in a box which then came ashore among Ethiopians who ate his much larger companion. Eldad was put in a pit to be fattened up to be eaten, but another tribe attacked the cannibals and took Eldad prisoner. After four years he was taken to a place called Azanian (theorized to be southern Africa), where he was exchanged for 32 pieces of gold to a Jewish merchant from the Tribe of Issachar.

He claimed knowledge of some of the Lost Tribes. Dan traveled to Kush (in Africa), and was later joined by Asher, Gad, and Naphtali. The four tribes were nomadic and fought constantly with the Ethiopian kings. They have the Scriptures except for the Book of Esther and Lamentations. They know the Talmud, but have none of the commentaries by Talmud scholars.

There is more, but that is enough to know that his account—although widely accepted for a few centuries—was looked at with raised eyebrows by later scholars. One of his claims, however, corresponded with a claim made in another document, and that may have created a medieval legend that would not die.

Eldad wrote that, on the other side of the river of Kush where these Jewish tribes lived, there was the Bnei Moshe, the Tribe of Levi, surrounded by the River Sambastion. Sambastion flows with sand and stones for six days and stops on the Sabbath. Fire surrounds the river, and no one can approach it. The other tribes communicate with the Bnei Moshe by yelling across the distance.

Curiously, this place is described in a different medieval story, and it ties into the legend of a powerful Christian king outside of Europe, a king that the Crusades hoped to contact and ally with during the Crusades. Tomorrow we touch on the subject of Prester John.

Beta Israel and Ethiopia

Beta Israel (Ge'ez for "House of Israel") is the name for Jews who established a presence in the Kingdom of Aksum, supposedly during the 4th century. According to a 9th-century Jewish traveler, Eldad ha-Dani, they were members of the Tribe of Dan who traveled south along the Nile to wind up in Aksum in Abyssinia (Ethiopia and Eritrea). Separated from their homeland, their traditions were different from those of Jews in the Middle East.

A Jewish-Italian traveler and Jewish scholar, Elijah of Ferrara, writes to his children in 1435 that he had encountered a member of this group. He says they follow a blend of oral and written traditions, that they did not observe Hanukkah, were not familiar with the Talmud, and that they included the Book of Esther (a later addition to the Bible that does not mention God and whose historicity has been questioned).

Around that time, Ethiopian missionaries decided to evangelize the Jewish communities in the Semien Mountains, which led to rebellion. The rebellion was dealt with brutally by Emperor Zara Yaqob (1399 - 1468), who mounted a strong campaign against any un-Christian practices. Zara Yaqob in one chronicle was given the title "Exterminator of the Jews."

The 1500s saw the Chief Rabbi of Egypt acknowledging the Beta Israel as "ethnically Jewish." It also saw the imam of the Adal Sultanate (an eastern region of Ethiopia populated by Muslims) attacking Ethiopia, forcing Emperor Dawit II to hide in the Semien Mountains. Pursuing him, the imam found the Jewish community there, who promised to be loyal to the imam if he would free them from persecution by the Christians. He did so, but later they switched their allegiance back to Dawit's son Galawdewos when he became emperor.

Revolts of the Beta Israel in 1614 and 1625 led to the successful suppression of their independence. The Jewish became forbidden in Ethiopia, and much of their culture was lost. The mid-19th century saw the beginning of "modern Ethiopia"; at the time, there were at least 200,000 Jews living there. Although there were still attempts to convert them, and questions as to how Jewish they were (compared to "mainstream" Middle Eastern Judaism), the Beta Israel community exists today.

The man who claimed they were of the Tribe of Dan traveled extensively and had many stories of the Lost Tribes of Israel in the Middle Ages. Let's see what he had to say next time.

Ethiopia's Religions, Part 3

After the Christian conversion of the Kingdom of Aksum, and before the asylum given to some of the first Muslims, there were Jews in Aksum. Referred to in Ge'ez as Beta Israel ("House of Israel"), they were Jews who refused to convert to Christianity during the time of Ezana and Frumentius.

According to tradition, the Jews rebelled against the Christians and established an independent state in the Semien Mountains, but there is no evidence to support this. There are other traditions. One of them is that a Jewish queen named Judith made an alliance with some pagans, the Agaw, and invaded Aksum's capital city, destroying churches and monasteries. Again, there is no evidence for this.

A 9th-century Jewish merchant and traveler, Eldad ha-Dani (c.851 - 900), claimed one of the 12 Tribes of Israel, the Tribe of Dan, went down the Nile and established themselves in Ethiopia. An Ethiopian Jewish community is also mentioned by both Marco Polo and Benjamin of Tudela.

The earliest recorded reference is found in the chronicles of Emperor Amda Seyon of Ethiopia, who sent troops to Semien to deal with unrest among Jews "and others." Ethiopian history and Beta Israel tradition both agree that Emperor Yeshaq (1414 - 1429) exerted pressure on Jews in Ethiopia. After the Jews rebelled against this, Yeshaq divided them into three regions with commissioners to watch over them. Jews were told to convert or lose their lands, and they were given second-class status below Christians.

Separated from Israel, Ethiopian Jews were different from the Middle Eastern brethren. A letter in 1435 by a Jewish traveler, Elijah of Ferrara, to his family tells of meeting an Ethiopian Jew. He recounts that they do not celebrate Hannukah, did not know the Talmud, and followed the Oral Torah, passed down through the generations orally.

The history of the Beta Israel had many twists and turns, and we will look at more tomorrow.