Icelandic Folklore

The witches of yesterday's post were just a small part of the rich folklore found in Icelandic literature and history. Because Iceland was so isolated geographically, Christianity came to it late and did not get as strong a hold on culture as in other European countries. Consequently, Iceland in modern times still retains strong vestiges (if that is not an oxymoron) of its supernatural history.

Magic (galdur or galdrar) could be good or bad and implemented through the use of galdrastafir (sigils, symbols), runes, or through words. Spells were very elaborate and well thought out. For instance, you could get a ghost under your power with a spell that caused a corpse to rise from its grave. As it did so, you had to reach down and strangle it until it asked you to stop. At that point you had a ghost under your control. You had to ask it its age, however, and if it were older than 14 or 15, you had to send it back to its grave, because a ghost older than that could be too powerful to keep under your control.*

Tales of galdrar are usually about human practitioners. Iceland is full of tales and beliefs about non-human beings. There are two terms for most of them: the older álfar (elf people) and the later term huldufólk (hidden people). These beings inhabit the land (largely) invisibly, but their dwellings (among rocks) and their well-traveled paths are known. Disturbing their homes is a grave offense, and they will seek revenge. Modern-day  Iceland will alter construction projects to avoid damaging rocks or cliffs lest the hidden folk be offended.

South of Reykjavik, in the town of Kopavogur, there is an elf hill, Álfhóll, a quite small area with some large boulders that is in an ideal spot to put a road through. Three attempts to build a road have failed.

The first effort was abandoned when funding ran out just before blasting could begin. A decade later, a second attempt was thwarted when heavy equipment and machinery repeatedly broke down without explanation. In the 1990s, a third attempt was made to remove part of the hill for road repairs, but powerful drills broke apart without even leaving a mark on the rock! [link]

Álfhóll is now considered a protected site, and the road squeezes around it.

Interactions between humans and álfar could be pleasant. The illustration is of an altar cloth in the National Museum of Iceland. This cloth was supposedly given to a human woman by an elf woman who was grateful for assistance in childbirth. It is unique as an artifact related to elf folklore.

Let's expand our look at elf people to the rest of Europe tomorrow.

*Some of what I'm sharing is from a TV series called Supernatural Iceland.

Whale Laws & Lore

In the sixth season of the TV show Vikings, a whale has washed up on shore. One character, Kjetill, claims it for his own. Others insist that the bounty be shared—it was an enormous source of food and materials—but Kjetill refuses, and even kills those who want to share it. Unlikely?

Not really. Both Icelandic tales Grettissaga (the Saga of Grettir) and Fóstbræðrasaga (the Saga of the Sworn Brothers) relate the incident of a long-lasting feud between two families when the rights to a beached whale turns to a lasting feud between groups.

The situation would be easily resolved if the ownership of the beach itself were not in dispute. Iceland at the time was a newly inhabited country and land rights were not always firmly established. Without having community agreement as to the rightful owner of the land on which a resource was found, conflict could easily arise.

I also promised in yesterday's post to discuss the "downside" of whale lore. I was referring to the other part that whales played in the past: as frightening supernatural creatures. In Friðþjófssaga (the Saga of Friðþjóf), Friðþjóf and his crew are at sea and trying to reach land. They are hindered by a whale, but not just any whale. This whale has two witches riding its back, sent to harass Friðþjóf by an evil king who is his enemy.

The witches should not surprise us. Every European culture (and others) have supernatural creatures and magic practitioners in their lore. Tomorrow let's look at some of the supernatural lore peculiar to Iceland.

Icelandic Whaling

Speaking of medieval whaling, let's talk about Iceland's approach. As an island in the North Atlantic—with a relatively small strip of arable land around the coast—a major source of food was, of course, the sea.

There is a story from the late 14th century about Ólafur, who went fishing off the Iceland coast and encountered a steypireydur, a blue whale. Ólafur stabbed his spear deep into its flesh, hoping the wounded beast would wind up on shore where Ólafur could claim the body.

Unfortunately for Ólafur, the whale survived enough to swim 930 miles and beach itself on the shore. It was found by a chieftain and his men, who started butchering the animal for food.

How much food did it yield? That's the great thing about the blue whale, the largest of the whales; indeed, the largest animal that ever lived on Earth (that we know of). Using sheep as a unit of measurement—a chief source of meat in Iceland—the blue whale could yield 3000 lambs' worth of meat.

How do we know that the whale in Greenland was the whale stabbed off the coast of Iceland by Ólafur? By Icelandic law, the whale killed by your hand was your prize, and so whalers would place a unique mark on the metal blade of their spears. The Greenland group found Ólafur's spear and mark during their butchering, but realizing that there was no way to reunite Ólafur and his quarry, they happily enjoyed their bounty. (The illustration is a 1560 depiction by Conrad Gesner.)

Icelandic texts try to be accurate about the real world, although they can add more fantastical elements. There was an attitude about blue whales that they were "friendly" and "peaceful," but that their size intimidated other whales that were more dangerous and "evil." The common advice was to keep your boat near a blue whale for safety (which makes Ólafur's attack a little sad).

But whales were so important to the Icelandic economy that laws were developed about hunting them:

A whale’s size, how it died, and who owned the property where it beached all determined who got a share of the whale meat. Portioning also depended on who secured it to the shore; if an Icelander saw a dead whale floating in the sea, they were legally obligated to find a way to tether it to land. And hunters not only marked their spears with their signature emblem, they also registered those emblems with the government, improving the chances that they could claim their lawful share of any whale they speared. [source]

So what was it like if there was a dispute over a whale carcass? And what was the downside of whale lore? Let's check these scenarios out tomorrow. 

Whaling in the Middle Ages

Yesterday's post referred to Ohthere of Hålogaland supporting himself partially through whaling. Whaling centuries ago should not be a shocking idea: evidence for whaling in Alaska has been found dating to 1000BCE, and there are neolithic depictions in Korea that may be about whaling as far back as 6000BCE.

Rather than going out into the open sea to catch a large animal, a common method was to take several small boats away from a shore where it was known that whales and dolphins consort, then forming a barrier in an attempt to drive them to beach themselves on shore.

Another method that presents less danger to sailors is to use a drogue, a floating object that is attached to a harpoon by a rope. If the harpoon makes solid contact with a whale, the buoyancy of the drogue makes it difficult for the animal to descend and tires it out so that the sailors can catch up with it. Melville's Moby Dick refers to druggs for this purpose.

Petroglyphs in Korea show boats surrounding sperm whales and humpback whales, but most whaling tackled smaller prey (see relative sizes here). Large whales were looked on to the medieval mind as scary and dangerous, but the smaller ones were gladly hunted for food and materials. One inventory of whales from the Middle Ages mentions the pilot whale (between five and ten meters long) as a popular target for its relatively small size and the ability to drive it into shore. Minke whales were also valuable due to their smaller size.

Smaller whales, porpoises, and dolphins that were driven to beach themselves were then clubbed or knifed. The body parts were divided equally among the participants. Some animals wound up on shore on their own and a call would go out to gather and finish it off (if it were still alive) and share the spoils before they spoiled.

The Dominicans Vincent of Beauvais (c.1190 - 1264) and Bishop Albertus Magnus (c.1200 - 1280) wrote of observing whaling; they both described it as a group project. Bede (672 - 735) also mentions the capture of whales.

Iceland had some very strict laws about whaling, which we will talk about tomorrow.

Ohthere of Hålogaland

When King Alfred the Great asked for an Anglo-Saxon translation of Orosius' Historiarum Adversum Paganos Libri VII, or "Seven Books of History Against the Pagans," he was fine with adding things that he thought worthy. One was the travels of Wulfstan of Hedeby, asked by Alfred to open up trade with northern Europe. The other was the account of the travels of Ohthere of Hålogaland.

Ohthere claimed that he lived in the extreme north of Norway. Hålogaland has been identified with the far north, today called Nord-Norge. He seems to have been quite wealthy, claiming to own a herd of 600 reindeer, and also making his money from whaling, walrus-hunting, and tribute from Lapps.

According to the account tacked onto Orosius:

Ohthere told his lord, King Alfred, that he lived northernmost of all the Northmen. He said that he lived in the north of the country by the West Sea. He said though the land stretches a long way north from there, yet it is completely unpopulated except for a few places here and there, where Finnas [Sami] camp, hunting in winter and fishing by the sea in summer. [source]

He was some kind of leader who received tribute from the Lapps:

That tribute consists in animal skins, bird feathers, whalebone and in ship's ropes made from the hide of whales and seals.  Each one pays according to his rank.  The noblest must pay fifteen marten skins, and five reindeer, and one bear skin, and ten ambers of feathers, and a bear, or otter-skin coat, and two ship's ropes, both to be sixty ells long, one to be made of whale's hide, the other of seal's. [source]

He also refers to the usefulness of walrus bones and that he brought some to give to Alfred.

He traveled widely, sometimes just for the sheer joy of discovery it seems. He describes sailing up the coast of Norway and going "over the top" and south again to what is called the White Sea, finding wasteland. At so me point he traveled to England, where he met Alfred. He offers the earliest details in England of what the Scandinavian countries were like.  In fact, his account is the earliest use we know of the term "Norway" (norðweg), as well as the name "Denmark" (dena mearc).

Ohthere's account brings up a question I never thought of: if they hunted whales in the Middle Ages, how did they go about it? How dangerous was it in their smaller ships? Tomorrow let's talk about the feasibility of whaling in the Middle Ages.

Orosius in the Middle Ages

The History written by Paulus Orosius in the 5th century carried influence for a thousand years afterward:

"The exceptionality of the Historiae is indicated by its incredibly rich and diverse reception over the subsequent centuries. The work became the standard point of reference on antiquity for the medieval and early modern world. It had an enormous impact of the historiography of later centuries, from Bede and Otto of Freising, to Petrarch and Dante, to Edward Gibbon.

At least two hundred and seventy-five manuscripts survive, the oldest dating to the sixth century, and the work was translated into Old English, Arabic, Aragonese, and Castilian prior to the modern period." [source]

That statement comes from a report on a three-day conference at the University of London in May 2022 with a score of scholarly presentations on Orosius' effect on the centuries that followed

One of the first laps in its progress came during the reign of Alfred the Great (849 - 899) of England. Alfred was a promoter of education and literacy, and wanted important works translated into Anglo-Saxon/Old English for his own (and others) pleasure.

We have two Old English manuscripts of the History, from the 10th and the 11th centuries, as well as some fragments. This version differs from the Latin original in that it was expanded with descriptions of Germania, Scandinavia, and the Baltic region, with a very detailed verbal map, for example:

To the west of the Old Saxons is the mouth of the river Elbe and Frisia. To the north-west is the region called Anglia and Silland and part of the land of the Danes. To the north of them are the Abodriti, and to the north-east the Wilti who are called Havolans. To the east is the territory of the Wends who are called the Siusli. To the south-east, some distance away, is Moravia. The Moravians have to their west the Thuringians ...

It makes sense that a king with more ties to Northern Europe than a Mediterranean author would want an expanded version that covers areas significant to his kingdom. Two travelers familiar to this time period—Ohthere and Wulfstan of Hedeby (sent by Alfred to Prussia to open up trade)—have their travel narratives added to Orosius as well during Alfred's time.

Let's learn more about Ohthere tomorrow.

(The illustration is of a carpet page from a 7th century manuscript of the History. It is the earliest known carpet page of an English manuscript.)

History Against the Pagans

Orosius wrote an influential book on the history of the world, Historiarum Adversum Paganos Libri VII, or "Seven Books of History Against the Pagans." The aim was to show how Christianity had made the world better. It was influenced by talks he had with Augustine of Hippo, whom he visited more than once. The opening shows Augustine's influence in its writing:

I have obeyed your instructions, blessed Augustine, and may my achievement match my good intentions.

... 

You bade me reply to the empty chatter and perversity of those who, aliens to the City of God*, are called "pagans" [pagani] because they come from the countryside [ex pagis] and the crossroads of the rural districts, or "heathen" because of their knowledge of earthly matters. Although these people do not seek out the future and moreover either forget or know nothing of the past, nevertheless they charge that the present times are unusually beset with calamities for the sole reason that men believe in Christ and worship God while idols are increasingly neglected.

He decided to start his history from "the beginning of man's misery from the beginning of his sin":

From Adam, the first man, to Ninus, whom they call "The Great" and in whose time Abraham was born, 3,184 years elapsed, a period that all historians have either disregarded or have not known. But from Ninus, or from Abraham, to Caesar Augustus, that is, to the birth of Christ, which took place in the forty-second year of Caesar's rule, when, on the conclusion of peace with the Parthians, the gates of Janus were closed and wars ceased over all the world, there were 2,015 years.**

We started talking about Orosius a couple days ago because of his reference to Noah. Curiously, not only does Orosius refer to the Flood and the repopulating of the world in his first of seven books without mentioning Noah by name, he also offers evidence for the Flood with:

Other writers, too, have testified to this truth. Though ignorant of the past and even of the very Creator of the ages, they have nevertheless learned about the flood by drawing logical inferences from the evidence offered by stones which, encrusted with shells and often corroded by water, we are accustomed to see on far-away mountains.

Orosius' History was a valuable resource in the Middle Ages; we've seen it mentioned here and here. We'll talk more about its use tomorrow.

*City of God was Augustine's major work.

**I want to point out that Orosius' gives a longer period of time prior to Jesus' birth than that of James Ussher (1581 - 1656), the Archbishop of Armagh who calculated Creation as taking place on 22 October 4004 BCE)

Paulus Orosius

Yesterday's post mentioned one of the most influential books on history that formed the foundation of the medieval era's understanding of their world. The Historiarum Adversum Paganos Libri VII, or "Seven Books of History Against the Pagans," was written by Orosius and covers from Noah's Flood to his own time (he died c.420CE).

Paulus Orosius was born c.375/385CE, possibly in the Roman province that is now Portugal. Although we know almost nothing of his origin, he was well-known to and trusted by the intellectuals and theologians of his day.

He visited Augustine of Hippo and collaborated with him on City of God. He visited St. Jerome, bringing him letters from Augustine. He was entrusted with delivering the relics of St. Stephen, the first Christian martyr who was stoned by (among others) Saul of Tarsus. The illustration shows the extent of at least some of his travels. The blue line shows him going all the way to Palestine on behalf of Augustine, where he wanted to meet with Jerome and learn more about some of the groups there. He met with Priscillians to learn about their heretical practices, as well as Pelagians. Orosius presented Augustine's arguments against Pelagius during the Jerusalem Synod of 415, prompting Pelagius to say Et quis est mihi Augustinus? ("Who is Augustine to me?").

Another synod that same year, the Synod of Diospolis, saw Orosius as well as Pelagius branded as heretics. Orosius wrote a book in response, the Liber Apologeticus, defending his beliefs.

Returning westward, he brought letters from Jerome to Augustine. He stayed with Augustine awhile, and some think it is here his History was conceived. We will talk about Orosius and his history more tomorrow.

Noah and the Anglo-Saxons

Yesterday we talked about the medieval attitude toward Noah, mostly from the Jewish viewpoint. Another group that spent a significant amount of time writing about Noah was the Anglo-Saxons in England.

Part of the reason was that King Alfred the Great (reigned 871 - 899) wanted important Latin works translated into English to be more accessible to more people. One of those works was a history by Orosius, the Historiarum Adversum Paganos Libri VII, or "Seven Books of History Against the Pagans." Orosius starts with Noah's Flood and tells the story of history up to his own time (he died c.420CE).

His goal was to explain how Christianity improved the lives of humankind, and he gives details such as the dimensions of the Ark:

Adam lived for 930 years. Noah lived 600 years before the Flood and 350 winters after it and he was in the Ark for 40 days, he and his three sons Shem, Ham and Japheth and their three wives. The Ark was 300 fathoms long, 50 fathoms wide, and 30 fathoms high. And his son Shem lived 630 years and his son Arfaxad lived 438 years. Then he begat a son called Heber. From him sprung forth the ‘Hebrew’ people.

Arfaxad was one of the sons of Shem, but the Anglo-Saxons were interested in a different descendant from Noah:

The story of Noah and his sons, and the building of the Ark, seems to have been popular in Anglo-Saxon England. Many of the surviving genealogical lists of Anglo-Saxon kings, for example, feature Noah prominently. The West Saxon Regnal List tell us that the line of the kings of Wessex, the dominant kingdom of Anglo-Saxon England from the late 9th century onwards, was descended from the Old Testament patriarch, through his fourth son Sceaf, said to have been born on the Ark itself. [link]

A list of West Saxon kings declares that they descended from Noah through his fourth [sic] son, Sceaf. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle for year 855 supports this, at least in two versions (B & C), saying Sceaf was born in the Ark.

Outside of Anglo-Saxon sources, the Noah-Sceaf link is unknown. A reference to him in Snorri Sturluson is explained because the Prose Edda drew on English sources.

Of course, in Beowulf we hear the story of Scyld Scefing, "Shield, son of Scef," who floats ashore as a babe on a ship laden with treasure and becomes king of Denmark. The "genealogy" of the ark-born Sceaf in Orosius and the ship-delivered Scyld Scefing of Beowulf would be a good dissertation topic for someone in my field of study.

We, however, will go in a different direction and look at Paul Orosius and his history.

Noah in the Middle Ages

There is much more to be said about the story of Noah than an ark, a dove, and animals two-by-two (especially since the command was to collect more animals than just pairs). Jewish thinkers of the Middle Ages looked more carefully at the story and asked themselves questions.

For example, we are told that Noah was "righteous in his generation." Did that mean that he was a good man in the context of that time but not necessarily by absolute standards? (Since the point of the Flood was to eliminate wicked humanity.) After all, he followed God's command to build an ark and collect animals, but could he have warned his neighbors to prepare for the coming Flood? Abraham prayed on behalf of Sodom and Gomorrah, but Noah doesn't even talk to God; we never hear his voice; he just follows orders. Noah was the first vintner, a useful thing, but he got drunk and exposed himself. Was he an example of the "righteous man in a fur coat," one who neglects his neighbor while ensuring his own comfort?

One medieval commentator, Rashi, claimed that the building of the ark took 120 years, and that Noah stretched it out to give people time to repent. Rashi also said that the name "Noah" itself supports this, because it means "This one will comfort us in our work and in the toil of our hands, which come from the ground that the Lord had cursed."

The Jewish Encyclopedia points out that there are two different stories of Noah. In one he is the "hero of the flood," in the other he is the savior of mankind who plants the first vineyard. These are two very different anecdotes, and could just as easily have been two different characters.

Adam is described as the first farmer, but farming did not die out with the Flood. It was not necessary for the creation of wine-making to happen post-Flood, so why attach the development to Noah? Was it solely to have his son Ham enter and see his father naked so that Ham could be cursed and explain other human beings in the world who were "cursed"?

Medieval Christianity saw Noah's three sons as the fathers of the peoples in different continents:  Japheth/Europe, Shem/Asia, and Ham/Africa. Ham's curse was intended to explain the dark skins of the African people, and was used as a justification for slavery. All of this was upended after the discovery of animals and people across the Atlantic after 1492, as you can imagine. Even Isaac Newton, writing in the 18th century, saw Noah and his sons as the ancestors of humanity across the world.

There was a medieval group that spent a lot of time on the builder of the ark; tomorrow we'll look at the Anglo-Saxon fascination with Noah.

Zoroastrianism

Over 600 years before the birth of Jesus, who went on at the age of 30 to challenge the status quo of his faith and developed a major religion based on his teachings after being recognized by a preacher on the banks of a river, a Persian reformer at the age of 30 had a revelation by the banks of a river and challenged the status quo of his faith, going on to preach and develop what became the major religion of his people.

Details about Zoroaster (real name Zarathushtra Spitama) have been debated and analyzed for centuries, but the sparse and vague facts don't matter as much as his influence on that part of the world. The story as it exists today is that he became a priest at 15, left his parents at 20 to wander and preach, and at 30 saw a shining figure on a river bank who revealed himself as Vohu Manah (Good Purpose) and taught him about Ahura Mazda (Wise Lord). Zoroaster learned the concepts of Asha and Druj, Order and Deception. He then devoted his life to teaching about Asha.

Eventually receiving the patronage of a queen, he continued to spread his ideas until he died at the age of 77. One story says he was killed by a priest of the traditional Iranian religion while Zoroaster was performing a ceremony. Another story says a Turanian soldier killed him. There is also the belief that he died of old age.

The teaching of Zoroastrianism are in the Gathas, an account of conversations between Zoroaster and Ahura Mazda. In them we learn that Ahura Mazda has an enemy, Angra Mainyu (Destructive Spirit). Human beings have a choice between Asha and Druj, these two opposing forces being promoted by Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu. (There is of course much more to it than that.)

The illustration above is of the Faravahar, a prominent symbol of Zoroastrianism, whose interpretation varies, but seems to be a representation of a person's spirit.

Zoroastrianism did not reach Western Europe, but it did interact with other subjects of this blog. The 10th Abbasid caliph, al-Mutawwakil ala Allah, did not follow the religious tolerance of his predecessor. In Kashmar there was an enormous cypress tree, supposedly 1400 years old, sacred to Zoroastrianism because it came from a. branch brought by Zoroaster from Paradise. al-Mutawwakil had it cut down to provide beams for his new palace. Despite protests, the destruction was carried out in 861CE. Zoroastrians might think that a curse was placed on the act, since al-Mutawwakil was assassinated by a soldier the night that the wood arrived via river and never saw the wood he wanted so desperately.

The 6th century CE saw clashes between Zoroastrianism and the Nestorian Church that was pushing to the East because it was so thoroughly rejected by the West. The dualistic nature of Zoroastrianism—that Ahura Mazda and Angra Mainyu were equally powerful forces—clashed with the Christian view that God was omnipotent.

As Muslim caliphates conquered the lands where Zoroastrians practiced, there was slow pressure to convert, despite being given dhimmi ("protected") status as a minority.

A 17th-century Jesuit scholar named Athanasius Kircher reconciled Zoroastrianism with the Bible by identifying Zoroaster with Noah's son Ham. In the current era, Zoroastrians number fewer than 150,000, and are found among Indian Parsis and Iranian Zoroastrians.

This post got me thinking about Noah and Ham. Ham was used to explain and (sadly) to dehumanize dark-skinned people. But what did the Middle Ages make of the story of Noah? On the one hand he was the father of humanity, but first he oversaw its destruction. Was that a problem? Hmmm.

Nestorianism in the East

The ideas put forth by Nestorius survived him and his condemnation as a heretic, mostly in the East. Those who disagreed with the Council of Ephesus adhered to the idea of Jesus having both a divine and a human nature with a connection between them, not that he was one or the other.

The Roman and Byzantine authorities saw Jesus as primarily divine, and when the Byzantine Emperor Zeno shut down a school in Mesopotamia for teaching Nestorian ideas, the school simply re-opened as the School of Nisibis in Persia. This brought many people to the area who believed in Nestorianism.

This Persian Nestorian Church began to expand, but not to the West where they would be opposed by the churches that followed Rome. The 6th century saw schisms started by clashes with Zoroastrianism, but the Nestorians came out even stronger.

Certain parts of the eastern church became known as the Nestorian Church. Nestorians were known in the Mongol court, and it was said that Nestorians provided the West with secrets of silk. 

Missions to the Arabian Peninsula and India created dioceses there. India already had Christianity presumably due to St. Thomas. The rumors of a large Christian population in far-off places gave rise to the myth of Prester John. A 6th-century manuscript mentions Persian Christins living in Sri Lanka, and a carved stone cross in a Sri Lankan column discovered in 1912 has been offered as proof of the presence of the Nestorian missions. In the Arabian Peninsula, Nestorians were declared dhimmi (protected persons) by the Rashidun Caliphate when it conquered that area.

The illustration above is of a Nestorian cross from a Beijing monastery dating to the Yuan Dynasty (1271 - 1368 CE), showing how far and how well-established the Nestorian Church became in the Far East.

Since this blog has never explained Zoroastrianism, I think that should be the next topic. See you tomorrow.

Nestorius of Constantinople

It is time to talk about Nestorianism, the man who started it, and the fact that even though it was declared heretical it lasted in areas uncontrolled by Rome.

Nestorius (c.386 - c.451) came out of Germanicia in Syria (now Turkey) and was educated in Antioch. He became a monk, and his preaching drew so much attention that the Byzantine Emperor Theodosius II made him patriarch of Constantinople in 428. His appointment didn't last long.

How did that change of fortune happen so fast? There were two differing theological ideas in Constantinople about the nature of Jesus as both a god and a man. One side supported the idea of a Hypostatic Union, that the divine and the human were united as one being in the person of Jesus.

Nestorius thought differently, preaching that there was a connection between the two natures. He could not accept that the suffering that the human Jesus went through was experienced by the divine part of him. He was accused of saying there were two persons in one body and therefore that he was denying the Incarnation, that "God became Man."

Cyril, Patriarch of Alexandria, was vehemently opposed to Nestorius. Cyril appealed to Pope Celestine II in Rome, who told Cyril to excommunicate Nestorius if he did not recant. The Council of Ephesus condemned and deposed Nestorius (along with affirming the Immaculate Conception).

Cyril had forced the Council to convene hastily, and declared the condemnation before the patriarch of Antioch and eastern bishops had arrived. They were furious at being left out of the discussion, convened their own council, declared Cyril of Alexandria deposed, and then appealed to the emperor. Theodosius supported Nestorius, but knew he was sitting on a powder keg. He exiled both Nestorius and Cyril. Nestorius went to his original monastery in Antioch. Cyril eventually bribed his way back to Constantinople.

Followers of Nestorius were removed from the positions. Theodosius exiled Nestorius from Antioch to Egypt, within the diocese of the recently restored Cyril of Alexandria. Desert bandits attacked the monastery, injuring Nestorius.

Nestorianism did not die, however; in the East, it spread. We will look at that growth tomorrow.

Maximus the Confessor

The pull of a religious and contemplative life drew many men and women to it from many spheres. Maximus (c.580 - 662), for instance, was a civil servant and aide to the Byzantine Emperor Heraclius (610 - 641) before deciding to embrace the monastic life. Educated in theology and philosophy—especially the works of commentators on Plato and Aristotle—his many writings influenced later writers like John Scotus Eriugena who were drawn to Neoplatonism.

By the age of 30 he had been promoted to the office of the Protoasekretis, a "first secretary" or head of the imperial notaries. His status and level of education suggests someone of noble birth. He chose, however, to leave what must have been a comfortable and lucrative life to join the monastery in Chrysopolis, across the Bosphorus from Constantinople. Eventually he became its abbot.

There was a major change in his life when the Persians invaded Anatolia. He fled to Carthage where he met Saint Sophronius and was introduced to the writings of Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite. It was while here that a debate about the human versus divine nature of Jesus became intense. Maximus opposed the idea of Monothelitism. 

Monothelitism ("one will") had come up in the 600s in opposition to dyothelitism ("dual wills"), the doctrine that Jesus had two "wills": a divine aspect and a human aspect. Monothelitism was the opinion that he had one will, a single "energy." Maximus had a public debate in Carthage with a friend, Pyrrhus of Constantinople, who had been deposed as patriarch and supported Monothelitism. Maximus convinced his friend that Monothelitism was erroneous. He wrote a transcript of the debate.

Heraclius liked Monothelitism, but wrote to the pope in Rome to create a synod that would settle the matter. The disagreements over the exact nature—dual or otherwise—of Jesus raged for centuries. The turmoil caused by the debates caused Maximus to leave his monastery. He preached in Alexandria for six years, then Crete where he clashed with a bishop who was a proponent of Nestorianism, which said Jesus had two natures.

A Lateran Council in October 649 in Rome (attended by Maximus) condemned Monothelitism. Emperor Constans II—who tried to stop the controversy by simply declaring Monothelitism as the truth and forbade anyone from discussing it further—ordered Maximus and Pope Martin I arrested in 653. Martin died before he could be brought to Constantinople. Maximus was tried as a heretic in Constantinople in 658 because he refused to accept Monothelitism; he was exiled to North Africa. In 662 he was tried, again, convicted of heresy, and had his tongue cut out and his right hand cut off. Sent to Georgia, he was thrown into prison where he died on 13 August 662. The details of his trials were handed down to us by Anastasius Bibliothecarius. The Sixth Ecumenical Council of 680-81 declared Monothelitism heresy, and Maximus was posthumously exonerated.

If Nestorianism said Jesus had two natures, and Maximus was against Monothelitism which believed Jesus had one nature, why did Maximus argue with a Nestorian? Wouldn't they believe the same thing? Not necessarily. Tomorrow let's see what made Nestorianism also heresy.

The Division of Nature

John Scotus Eriugena (c.815 - c.877) was a philosopher, theologian, poet, and master of the palace school of Aachen under the Carolingians. Of his various works, the most impressive was an attempt to reconcile and synthesize all known philosophy up to his time.

De divisione naturae ("On the division of nature") is written in five books as a dialogue between a teacher and student. The title was put to it years later; John called it Periphyseon, from the Greek for "on natures." The intent is to lay out how the Creator is connected to his creation of man and the rest of Creation.

The master explains to the student that "Authority is the source of knowledge, but the reason of mankind is the norm by which all authority is judged." Their socratic dialogue aims to explain all of nature, which is his term for the whole of creation and all its divisions. The "divisions" of nature are:

1. Creating and not created.
2. Created and creating.
3. Created and not creating.
4. Not creating and not created.

Number one is God, who creates but was not created, being eternal. Second are the Platonic forms which are the templates for the objects we perceive. Third is the corporeal world of things that do not themselves create anything but come from the Platonic forms. Finally we have God again, into which all created things ultimately return. He derives this four-fold plan from Augustine's City of God.

Note that numbers one and four are both about God. We'll look at the reason for this division in a translation of his own words:

Let us then make an “analytical” or regressive collection of each of the two pairs of the four forms we have mentioned so as to bring them into a unity. The first, then, [and] fourth are one since they are understood of God [alone]. For He is the Principle of all things which have been created by Him, and the end of all things which seek Him so that in Him they may find their eternal and immutable rest. [link]

This enormous work influenced many theologians in the future. The Divisione and Eriugena's translation of a biography of St. Maximus the Confessor (also one of Eriugena's influences) influenced Bernard of Clairvaux. Hildegard of Bingen shows Eriugena's influence in her Ordo Virtutum ("Order of the Virtues") and the Scivias about her visions. Some see his influence on Nicholas of Cusa.

Bertrand Russell called him "the most astonishing person of the ninth century." The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy [link] states he "is the most significant Irish intellectual of the early monastic period. He is generally recognized to be both the outstanding philosopher (in terms of originality) of the Carolingian era and of the whole period of Latin philosophy stretching from Boethius to Anselm."

A late anecdote (with no support) by William of Malmesbury says that Eriugena later in life went to teach at Oxford and angered his students to the point where he was stabbed to death by their styluses. William, who edited some of Eriugena's works, also thought he was a heretic because he showed too much Greek influence rather than Latin.

I think we should go back a few centuries and meet Maximus the Confessor, who influenced Eriugena. See you tomorrow.

John the Irish-born

Alcuin of York is celebrated as a learned man and the head of the palace school of Aachen under Charlemagne, but one of his successors at Aachen is considered one of the most consequential philosophers of the entire Carolingian era. His name was John Scotus Eriugena, who was invited there by Charles the Bald, Charlemagne's grandson. Where did he come from? The answer is in the name.

He describes himself as "Eriugena" in his manuscripts, which means "Ireland-born." The "Scotus" part of his name is also how Irish or Gaels were called, so his name in full translates as "John the Irish-born Gael." (Ireland was called "Scotia Major" while Scotland was called "Scotia Minor.")

Educated in Ireland, he was invited to Aachen by Charles in 845, by which time his reputation for learning was already established. The school at Aachen flourished under him even more than under Alcuin, as it became a source not only of learning but of philosophy, which was John's strength. He was a Neoplatonist (following the ideas of some 3rd-century Greek philosophers who differed in some ways from Plato), and brought some of their ideas to Western Europe through Aachen.

The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy states:

Eriugena’s thought is best understood as a sustained attempt to create a consistent, systematic, Christian Neoplatonism from diverse but primarily Christian sources. Eriugena had a unique gift for identifying the underlying intellectual framework, broadly Neoplatonic but also deeply Christian, assumed by the writers of the Christian East. [link]

Among his writings is De Divina Praedestinatione, "Concerning Divine Predestination." This was a request from Charles the Bald and Archbishop Hincmar of Reims to counter the predestinarianism of Gottschalk of Orbais, who preached that predestination was absolute in the sense that the damned were already damned since birth and free will did not apply. John wrote that God cannot predestine human freedom, people are saved or damned due to their own free will. Sin and evil are not caused by God; they are a rejection or negation of the good that comes from God, and it is the person's free will that leads them to choose not the good but its opposite.

He was thought to be the author of De Corpore et Sanguine Domini, "On the Body and Blood of the Lord," arguing that the bread and wine of the Mass were simply symbolic representations of Jesus' flesh and blood. (It was really written by Ratramnus.) Berengar of Tours later got into a lot of trouble over this idea, refuting transubstantiation.

Eriugena's De Divisione Naturae ("On the Division of Nature"), is considered his most important work, a summary and synthesis of 15 centuries of philosophy. We will tackle a basic understanding of its contents tomorrow.

Ratramnus

When Charles the Bald visited the abbey of New Corvey in 843, he said he would like to have the Eucharist explained to him. In response, the monk Ratramnus (died c.868) wrote a treatise, De Corpore et Sanguine Domini, "On the Body and Blood of the Lord," in which he explained that the bread and wine represented the body and blood of Jesus figuratively.

The abbot of Corvey at the time was Paschasius Radbertus, who also wrote De Corpore et Sanguine Domini, in which he explained that the bread and wine were changed to be equal to the actual flesh and blood of Jesus. He presented a version of his work to Charles. These opposing views did not seem to create any controversy or conflict at the time. That all happened later when others took sides on the question.

Ratramnus also wrote works such as De Praedestinatione Dei, "On the Predestination of God." In this work he denied the ideas of Gottschalk of Orbais, an itinerant Saxon theologian who visited Corvey. Gottschalk believed that predestination worked on both the saved and the damned. Ratramnus defended this idea.

One of his other works was a letter about the Cynocephali, the dog-headed men. The archbishop of Hamburg-Bremen, Saint Rimbert (c.830 - 888), while on a mission in Scandinavia, heard that there were communities of men with the heads of dogs living nearby. Rimbert's question was simple: if they were living in organized communities as he was told, were they then capable of reason and therefore of the race of Adam and suitable subjects for Christian conversion?

There was a long history of cynocephali going back to classical times, and they were usually referred to as animals. Ratramnus wrote that they were indeed human in essence though not in appearance and should be converted. (There are no stories of missionaries actually finding and communicating with any communities of dog-headed men.)

Ratramnus' most significant work on the body and blood was, at a later date, wrongly ascribed to someone else. When Berengar of Tours (died 1088) in a later century took up the topic, he used Ratramnus' work for his arguments, thinking it was the work of John Scotus Eriugena. John Scotus Eriugena was not an obscure person, but quite prominent, and we'll see why tomorrow.

Paschasius Radbertus

About 831CE, a Carolingian monk at the monastery of New Corvey in Westphalia wrote De Corpore et Sanguine Domini, "On the Body and Blood of the Lord," in which he stated flatly that the words of Jesus to his disciples at the Last Supper ("This is my body; this is my blood") must be accepted as true, since God does not lie. Although he did not use the word transubstantiation (that came from the writing of Hildebert years later), this is clearly the start of that idea.

Paschasius had an interesting history, starting with his finding as an orphan in 785, left on the steps of the convent of Notre-Dame de Soissons, where he was raised by nuns and their abbess Theodara. Theodara had two brothers who were monks—Adalard and Wala—and visits to the convent by Adalard inspired Paschasius to follow Adalard to Corbie, where he met Wala.

When Paschasius was in his 30s, he followed Adalard to Saxony to help found the monastery of New Corvey. Adalard died in 826, and Paschasius supported Wala as his successor as abbot there. Wala was succeeded in 836 by Heddo, then Heddo by Isaac, but in 843 with Isaac's death, Paschasius became abbot.

During this time Paschasius wrote a few works on theology. De Corpore et Sanguine Domini was given to Charles the Bald of West Francia, a grandson of Charlemagne, in 844. As it turns out, Charles did not quite understand what he was reading, and he visited New Corvey and asked someone to explain the Eucharist to him. That person was Ratramnus.

Ratramnus was a member of New Corvey, possibly the teaching master there, and he wrote a work also entitled De Corpore et Sanguine Domini. Ratramnus explained that the bread and wine represent the body and blood of Jesus in a spiritual way, not physically transformed in any way that is perceptible by human senses. Any so-called "controversy" over the two views was non-existent at the time, only boiling over years later into a theological fight because of Berengar of Tours.

As for Paschasius, he wrote various other works and resigned his position in 853 to go to Saint-Riquier to live quietly. He returned to Corbie near the end of his life and died there in 865. Miracles were reported at his tomb, which caused them to move his body to a prominent place in the Church of St. Peter, Corbie.

Meanwhile, Ratramnus was also writing, including about men with heads of dogs, but let me go into that tomorrow.

Berengar and Controversy

After Berengar of Tours avoided what he assumed was a council to condemn him further (he had already been excommunicated for his denial of transubstantiation), he went to be shielded by some supporters, Count Geoffrey II of Anjou and a former student, Eusebius Bruno the Bishop of Angers.

Berengar was willing to accept that there was a spiritual change in the bread and wine, but the Church saw it as something more, an actual physical transformation. A regional synod in Tours in 1054 condemned him again. This concerned him so much that he wrote a letter recanting his earlier denial. He agreed that, during the Mass, the bread and wine became in some way the body and blood of Christ. The bishops who convened the Council of Tours in 1055 considered this sufficient and the matter settled.

He went to Rome in 1059, summoned once again to express his opinion. They wrote a statement for him to sign that was so far from his views:

...the bread and wine which are placed on the altar are after consecration not only a sacrament but also the true body and blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, and with the senses not only sacramentally but in truth are taken and broken by the hands of the priests and crushed by the teeth of the faithful.

...that he refused to sign it. He requested an opportunity to speak before a group of prelates, but was denied.

Not long after, Geoffrey of Anjou died. Berengar returned home and reversed his earlier recantation from 1054; this obstinacy caused Eusebius to withdraw his support. Pope Alexander II offered him a lifeline, sending him a letter encouraging him to use silence as his shield and stop espousing radical views.

Berengar would not stop. In 1069 he wrote a treatise against Pope Nicholas II and the 1054 council that had condemned him. Lanfranc (in 1070 being appointed Archbishop of Canterbury) wrote a response, as did Bishop Hugo of Langres and Bishop Berengar of Venosa.

He was condemned again in 1076 at the Synod of Poitiers. Pope Gregory VII, who in 1054 was Cardinal Hildebrand, the papal legate who convened the Council of Tours at which Berengar originally agreed that transubstantiation occurred (although in a vague statement that was nonetheless enough to satisfy everyone), tried to save the situation by having Berengar sign (yet another) indefinite statement. Berengar's enemies were not satisfied and again called for a statement about real flesh and blood.

Berengar finally admitted the error of his ways, went home, and immediately wrote an account of the events in Rome and again reversed his position back to the original. This meant another synod to condemn him, this time at Bordeaux in 1080, at which he for the last time publicly renounced his earlier views. Tired no doubt of the controversy, and at this time probably a man at least in his 70s, he retired to an island near Tours, Saint-Cosme, where he died on 6 January 1088.

Berengar's situation thrust front and center the question of what happens to the bread and wine during the Mass. Theologians were forced to debate and determine the significance of the meal at the last Supper. Transubstantiation might not have taken hold had Berengar not raised the issue so stridently. But where did the idea of bread and wine becoming actual flesh and blood arise in the history of theology? Against whom was Berengar arguing? For that we are going to look back to a 9th century Carolingian abbot, the orphan Paschasius Radbertus...next time.

Berengar of Tours

A controversial figure who was widely respected by some and strongly denounced by others, Berengar was born in the early 11th century, probably in Tours. He was educated at the school of Chartres under Bishop Fulbert of Chartres. When Fulbert died in 1028, Berengar returned to Tours and became a canon at the cathedral there, becoming head of its school in 1040.

His simple lifestyle, erudition, and judgment enhanced his reputation to the point where he was asked to preside over a dispute between the bishop of Poitiers and his diocesan priests. Count (from 1040 - 1060) Geoffrey of Anjou was an admirer and supporter. To be frank, Geoffrey was described in the Gesta Normannorum Ducum as "a treacherous man in every respect, frequently inflicted assaults and intolerable pressure on his neighbors." Nevertheless, a good man to have on your side if you had controversial views.

He had two views that clashed with official Church thought. He preached the supremacy of Scripture (as opposed to many of the trappings and embellishments of the liturgy that had been added over the years). He might have been fine if that was all. His real downfall was his denial of transubstantiation, the idea that the bread and wine during the Mass was actually transformed in some way to the flesh and blood of Jesus.

To be fair to Berengar, not everyone believed in transubstantiation. A Carolingian theologian in the 9th century, Paschasius Radbertus, was one of the first to claim that the Eucharist was identical to flesh and blood because what Jesus said during the Last Supper must be true because God does not lie. This idea did not receive universal support. A Frankish monk named Ratramnus (died c.868) and Hrabanus Maurus (c.780 - 856) suggested the conversion was more spiritual than physical.

Berengar was accused of disregarding the presence of the divine in the Eucharist, when it is possible that he simply rejected the idea of a physical change in the bread and wine. Berengar wrote in 1050 to Lanfranc of Bec in Normandy (later archbishop of Canterbury), expressing his concern that Lanfranc supported the idea of transubstantiation and considered Ratramnus heretical. Lanfranc had been traveling to Rome, and the letter followed him there. Lanfranc shared the letter with others, with the result that Berengar was summoned to appear at a council in Vercelli in northern Italy. Berengar asked King Henry I of France for permission to go. For reasons unknown, Henry refused and kept Berengar captive. The Lanfranc letter was read in Vercelli and Berengar was declared excommunicated.

The king released him, but called his own council in Paris for October 1051, inviting Berengar. Berengar suspected this council was intended to do him more harm, so he went to stay with Count Geoffrey. The bishop of Angers, Eusebius of Angers, also supported Berengar, under whom he had studied at Tours.

The Church was not going to let him live out his excommunicated life in peace, however. I'll go into that tomorrow.

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.