Saint Oedipus?

St. Julian killing his parents.
Oil on panel, c.1488, by Antonio della Corna

Everyone knows the story of Oedipus. Not to be outdone, early Christianity has its own story of a similar patricidal tragedy. The popular 13th century Legenda Aurea ["Golden Legend"] of Jacobus de Voragine is the source of many saints' legends—sometimes the only source, and therefore suspect—and it is where we learn the story of St. Julian the Hospitaller.

At his birth (early in the first century CE), his father saw pagan witches lay a curse on his son that would cause him to kill his parents some day. His father realized that killing his son was the best plan to avoid his and his wife's own future demise, but the baby's mother would not allow it. Unfortunately, the boy Julian frequently saw his mother crying while he was growing up, and one day at the age of ten she told him why. Learning that his fate was to kill his parents, and swearing that he would never do so, he left home. After 50 days of walking, he had reached Galicia in northwest Spain. He eventually married.

Twenty years later, his parents decided to go looking for him. Arriving in Galicia, they visited the altar of St. James to pray. Coming out, they met a woman and asked her if she could take in a pair of travelers who had nowhere to stay. She agreed, and took them home. Explaining that her husband, Julian, was out hunting, they discovered that they had met their own daughter-in-law. Delighted to have found each other, she put them into her own bed to sleep.

In the words of the Legend,

And on the morn the wife of Julian went to the church, and her husband came home whiles she was at church, and entered into his chamber for to awake his wife. And he saw twain in his bed, and had weened that it had been a man that had lain with his wife, and slew them both with his sword, and after, went out and saw his wife coming from church.
Then he was much abashed and demanded of his wife who they were that lay in his bed, then she said that they were his father and his mother, which had long sought him, and she had laid them in his bed. [link]

The horribly distraught Julian was comforted by his wife, who implored him to keep faith in God. To atone, Julian built several hospitals for the comfort of strangers.

He is the patron saint of hunters and of innkeepers. His feast day is 12 February.

A Papal Secretary Makes His Mark

Poggio's notes on monument [link]

Many months ago this post mentioned a time when there were three popes at once, who were finally removed and replaced with a fourth. The truth is that there was a two-year gap before the Cardinals settled on a single pope. During this time, what did all the servants and staff of the Vatican do with themselves? One of them went searching for manuscripts from the past and made of them a gift to the future.

His name was Gian Francesco Poggio (later called "Bracciolini," and he was born in Tuscany on 11 February, 1380, but grew up in Florence where his father took him to be educated. It was soon clear that he had a great talent: his penmanship. In an age when all documents were created by hand, penmanship was prized. He was put in school to become a notary.

Notaries were authorized to oversee certain legal documents and transactions. At 21 he was a member of the Notaries Guild in Florence. Two years later, he was working for a cardinal, and a few months after that, for the Vatican itself. With his penmanship skills and knowledge of proper document organization and preparation, he quickly moved up through all the ranks of official Vatican scriptors, working under four popes.

Then came 1414 and the Council of Constance that got rid of all three warring popes, beginning a two-year gap in the need for secretaries who produced official documents. Poggio decided to travel. He visited the German spa at Baden, abbeys in Switzerland and Swabia, St. Gall and many others. He brought to light sole copies of important works by classical authors that might have otherwise disintegrated without being copied.

At Gall he found unique documents by Cicero, Quintilian, Statius, Gaius Valerius Flaccus, and more. Cicero's complete Orations were recovered at Cluny. The only known copy of the encyclopedic De Rerum Natura ["On the Nature of Things"] by Lucretius was recovered from a German monastery (probably Fulda). One Harvard scholar credits Lucretius' 7400-line poem on the world with kickstarting the Renaissance.

He returned to his Vatican duties, being named Apostolicus Secretarius, the papal secretary, under the newly elected Pope Martin V. He traveled a great deal still, moving around when the pope did and on re-assignments (he spent five years in England, which he hated), looking for manuscripts that needed bringing into the light. He worked under several more popes until he finally retired to a villa that he had built with the money from the sale of a manuscript by Livy. In 1453,* he was offered the position of Chancellor of the Florentine Republic by Cosimo de Medici. He fulfilled his duties there until his death in 1459.

*Coincidentally, he retired from a career created by his excellent hand-writing of documents at the same time Gutenberg was perfecting movable type and ushering in an era of mass-produced books.

St. Scholastica, Weather Witch

Today is her feast day, as well as the anniversary of the St. Scholastica's Day Riot in Oxford. She was the twin sister of Saint Benedict, but made quite the name for herself. Like her brother, most of what we know about her came from the Dialogues of Pope Gregory I (mentioned here).

She was born in Italy (c.480 - 10 February 542), and devoted herself to God in her youth. She founded a monastery for women about five miles from Monte Cassino, where her more famous brother had a community.

The communities were "gender-specific," so when the siblings wanted to meet they chose a neutral location. During one of these visits, she wanted her brother to stay overnight, but he was loath to spend a night away from his monastery. Chapter 33 of the Dialogues tells the tale of what happened next:

At that time, the sky was so clear that no cloud was to be seen. The Nun, hearing this denial of her brother, joined her hands together, laid them on the table, bowed her head on her hands, and prayed to almighty God. 

Lifting her head from the table, there fell suddenly such a tempest of lightning and thundering, and such abundance of rain, that neither venerable Benedict, nor his monks that were with him, could put their heads out of doors. The holy Nun, having rested her head on her hands, poured forth such a flood of tears on the table, that she transformed the clear air to a watery sky. 

After the end of her devotions, that storm of rain followed; her prayer and the rain so met together, that as she lifted up her head from the table, the thunder began.  So it was that in one and the very same instant that she lifted up her head, she brought down the rain.

The man of God, seeing that he could not, in the midst of such thunder and lightning and great abundance of rain return to his Abbey, began to be heavy and to complain to his sister, saying: "God forgive you, what have you done?" She answered him, "I desired you to stay, and you would not hear me; I have desired it of our good Lord, and he has granted my petition. Therefore if you can now depart, in God's name return to your monastery, and leave me here alone." [link]

The next day he departed; three days later she died. Benedict had her body brought to Monte Cassino and laid in his own tomb.

Scholastica is the patron saint of nuns, and is invoked during storms.

War of the Eight Saints

Pope Gregory XI arriving in Rome in 1377
Fresco by Giorgio Vasari

Pope Gregory XI wanted land. He was the last pope to reside in Avignon in France rather than in the Vatican in Rome. Even though he enjoyed living in Avignon, he still felt that the pope deserved more land in Italy. He set out to achieve that by expanding the Papal States, territory that belonged to the papacy.

Understandably, the Italian city-states objected to this; if Gregory wanted more land, he was going to have to take it by force. Gregory was fine with that option. He was fighting a battle with Milan, and when that ended in 1375, he had the opportunity to send his army against Florence, which held lands that would have been ideal for Gregory. Thus started the "War of Eight Saints."

The head of Gregory's mercenary army was an Englishman, John Hawkwood. Florence decided they could "buy off" Hawkwood. They offered him (and his army) 130,000 florins to sign a one-year nonaggression pact with Florence. For Hawkwood himself, they offered an annual payment of 600 florins in a five-year contract and a lifetime annual pension of 1200 florins! Hawkwood kept his involvement to the Papal States themselves, avoiding conflict with Florentine territory. Gregory had to use other forces to attack key areas in Italy.

Who were the "Eight Saints" of the war? Their names aren't agreed upon, and they weren't saints. Gregory excommunicated Florence for its opposition, using the phrase otto dei preti ["eight priests"] to refer to specific men whose acts prompted the excommunication.* These eight would have been one (or both) of two groups of eight men: one was appointed to come up with the means of buying off Hawkwood (these men also forced a loan on the clergy of Florence to amass the money needed for Hawkwood); the other was the otto della guerra ["eight men of war"], eight men appointed to manage the war against Gregory.

Gregory ultimately returned to Rome in January 1378. If he wanted to maintain his property in Italy, he was going to have to oversee it personally. In a sense, the Avignon papacy ended by default.

*Florence had an unexpected reaction to excommunication—unexpected to our modern ideas of how devout the Middle Ages were. Someday...

Stones of Magnesia

A perpetual motion machine powered by magnetism,
described by Peter Peregrinus

Magnets/lodestones have fascinated people for at least 25 centuries. We should first clarify the names. The word "lodestone" was first used in the 16th century and refers to the metal ore with magnetic properties. The word "magnet" was coined by the Greeks far earlier and refers to "stones from Magnesia." Magnesia was a region in Thessaly where it was easy to find the magnetic ore.

Aristotle informs us that Thales of Miletus (625 - c.525 BCE) was certain that magnetism, since it caused the rock to move, was a sign that all things—even rocks—were imbued with divine power; essentially, with "soul." Pliny the Elder mentioned a mountain near the Indus River that was a giant magnet. Superstitions about magnets abounded, and it was incorporated into legends. A mid-twelfth century romance about Aeneas claimed that the walls of Carthage had meanest in them that drew and incapacitated the weapons of Aeneas' men.

Bishop of Paris William of Auvergne in 1231-6 used magnetism as an analogy for the motion of the celestial spheres. A generation later, a French scholar named Peter Peregrinus, or Peter of Maricourt, wrote Epistolæ de Magnete ["Letters on the Magnet"] to a friend, explaining the observable properties of magnets. He describes the two poles, attraction and repulsion, and how to make efficient compasses. His work was so thorough that no one bothered to write another work on magnets until 1600, and that person quoted Peter's work.

Fair Rosamund

Fair Rosamund's Well today.

Blenheim Palace is of fairly recent vintage—the early 1700s is "recent" in the context of a blog devoted to the Middle Ages—but the site contains some much older features. A spring on the property fills a well that existed at least as far back as 1166, when royal accounts list a building project designed to enclose the spring, known at the time as Everswell. The name can be accounted for by a local legend that says it never runs dry. Nowadays, it has a different name; from the 16th century on, it has been referred to as "Rosamund's Well."

The Rosamund of the name is Rosamund Clifford, who would have been unknown to history but for an event that pushed her into prominence. Daughter of Walter Clifford, she was born sometime before 1150. Her father's position in government was sufficient that the king had reason to call on him. Sometime in 1163 (according to best guesses), Henry II did just that, stopping at Clifford Castle on the River Wye on his way to deal with a Welsh problem. That is likely where and when he first met Rosamund...

...and when they fell in love.

Henry was married—Eleanor of Aquitaine had divorced the king of France in 1152 and married Henry in 1154—but kings never let marriage stop them. There is much gossip and legend surrounding "Fair Rosamund," but there are a few things we can say for certain. One is that she was a very patient lover: given Henry's campaigns in England and on the continent, between 1163 and her death in 1176, they would not have been able to be in each other's presence for more than 2-3 years total. Stories that she traveled with him can not be substantiated by contemporary evidence.

The likelihood that she bore children for Henry is slim. Later suggestions that his son Geoffrey was hers make no sense, given that she would have had to been pregnant with Geoffrey while she was a baby.*

It is very likely that Henry kept her in Woodstock, which at the time was essentially a hunting lodge about 10 miles north of Oxford. The legend that he built a maze around it to keep her safe is untrue. It is possible, I suppose, that she really did bathe at Rosamund's Well. Blenheim Palace is just west of Woodstock, built on the grounds that once were part of the Woodstock lodge and the enclosed deer park.

She went to live in seclusion among the nuns at a monastery in Godstow in 1176, once her status as the king's mistress became known. She died shortly thereafter, and the king contributed to a family-built  tomb for her at Godstow. In 1191, the bishop of Lincoln found that her tomb, situated in the choir of the church, had become a popular site for locals to leave flowers. Shocked at the veneration given to a mistress, he had her tomb moved outside the monastery. Like so many other sites, it was destroyed by another Henry known for mistresses: Henry VIII's Dissolution of the Monasteries.

*The illegitimacy of Geoffrey is not an invention; Eleanor was not his mother. The chronicler Walter Map (1140 - c.1209) claims Geoffrey's mother was someone named Ykenai.

The Invention of Acne...

A copy of his work [source]

...was a typographical error.

The word "acne" does not come from a classical language root; that is, not in the way we usually derive our modern medical terms. It was described by a Greek physician and then mis-transcribed in a later volume of his work.

Aetius of Amida was a contemporary of Theodoric the Great (454 - 526; mentioned here in connection with Grammar). He was known for the breadth of his learning; his writings show a great knowledge of those who came before him as well as personal skill. He came out of Mesopotamia and learned medicine at Alexandria, known for its medical school.

His famous work was Sixteen Books on Medicine, in which he compiles knowledge from Galen and others of whom we would otherwise have little information: the surgeons Rufus of Ephesus and Leonidas, and the obstetricians and gynecologists Soranus of Ephesus and Philumenus. He is not completely derivative, however. He includes original treatments for eyes, ears, nose and throat, as well as goiter and rabies and others. He also addresses surgical procedures such as for a fistula or tonsilitis.

Although a Christian, he was not immune to the cures that came from non-Christian sources. He relates spells and charms popular in Egypt at the time. Also, in explaining how to help a person suffering from a bone stuck in the throat, he makes the earliest reference to St. Blaise.

As for the condition in which the skin is covered with small eruptions or peaks, he used the Greek word ἀκμή ["acme"; point]. Unfortunately, a scribal error in a later copy turned this into ἀκνή ["acne"]. The popularity of his text made this the common name for the affliction, and so it remains.

An English Mercenary

Funerary monument to Hawkwood

This is the story of how an English soldier of no particular background rose to such prominence that a monument to him sits in Florence, Italy.

John Hawkwood was born about 1320, perhaps in Essex; anecdotes that he apprenticed in London as a tailor before becoming a soldier cannot be substantiated. He served in the Hundred Years War under Edward III. He may have fought at Crécy and Poitiers—again, we cannot be sure of his exact whereabouts during the war—but it is certain that he was no longer employed as a soldier once the Treaty of Brétigny was concluded in 1360.

The life of a soldier suited him, apparently—or he simply had no desire to find passage back to England. He joined one of the mercenary companies that sprang up on the continent. These groups, with no particular allegiance to any nationality and willing to fight for pay against anyone, were called Free Companies. He soon became a member of one called the "Great Company of English and Germans," also known as the White Company. By 1362 he was leading the White Company in battles all over Italy.

Hawkwood was shrewd—some would say "dishonest" or "unethical." Knowing that the White Company was a military force to be reckoned with, he would manipulate the Italian city-states that wanted help. If one offered a contract for the Company's services, he would go to their potential employer's enemy and ask for more money to refuse the initial contract. Sometimes he would be paid simply not to fight for the other side. Florence did this for three months in 1375, when the White Company was employed by Pope Gregory XI to fight Florence.

Despite this behavior, the White Company under Hawkwood gained a reputation for sticking to a contract and not deserting the battle or acting like lawless marauders once a battle was done. Military discipline was one of the commodities you gained when employing the White Company.

Besides being a mercenary, his life dovetailed with other historical events. In 1368, Edward III's son Lionel of Antwerp married Violante Visconti, daughter of then-ruler of Milan, Galeazzo II Visconti. Hawkwood was in attendance and might have met some of the other wedding guests: Geoffrey Chaucer, Petrarch, and the French chronicler Jean Froissart.

John Hawkwood died on 17 March 1394 in Florence. He had lived at that point for several years in peaceful retirement, enjoying the citizenship and pension and villa Florence had given him. Praised for his part in maintaining Florentine independence, he was buried with state honors. Plans for a bronze statue were abandoned due to cost, but 40 years later a monument was created for him by Paolo Uccello, a fresco designed to resemble bronze.

A New Plough

A diagram of the heavy plough with mouldboard

One of the tools that most shaped European culture and improved life in the Middle Ages was a new type of plough. Ploughs drawn by animals to break up the earth were used as far back as 2500 BCE in the Indus Valley; however, those ploughs were simple wooden devices, mostly some form of stick or rake that would scratch the surface of the earth so that seed could be broadcast and covered with dirt. This worked well in the light sandy soils of the Mediterranean and Egypt, but the heavy, wet, clay-laden soils of Europe were another mater. Simple scratch ploughs could not make a dent in those heavy soils, laid down by glacial advance.

Someone devised a plough with two particular features: the coulter and the mouldboard. The coulter (#4 in the diagram) is a vertical cutting blade that cuts a furrow. That isn't enough, however. The mouldboard (#7) is a curved blade that turns a layer of earth over, exposing it and creating a deeper furrow than a scratch plough. Improvements in the smelting and shaping iron by 900 CE made the coulter, the chisel (#5), and the main share (#6) efficient so that the mouldboard could do its job properly.

When dragged through a field the coulter cuts down into the soil and the share cuts horizontally from the previous furrow to the vertical cut. This releases a rectangular strip of sod that is then lifted by the share and carried by the mouldboard up and over, so that the strip of sod (slice of the topsoil) that is being cut lifts and rolls over as the plough moves forward, dropping back to the ground upside down into the furrow and onto the turned soil from the previous run down the field. [link]

A side-effect of this type of plough is that deep furrows are created that help drainage. If excessive water from spring rains can be diverted from fields rather than standing in pools, planting can take place earlier; a longer growing season results, less susceptible to water damage of seedlings.

Around the same time, Europe started experimenting with crop rotation. The practice of using a field every other year for a different purpose was already in place, but three-field crop rotation in which one field is left fallow began to create healthier crops and higher yields at harvest time.

I will not go as far as James Burke* does and say that everything comes from the plough—predictability of future crops, pottery because you need to store grain, writing because you need to make a potter's mark, weaving because you are growing flax, et cetera—but the development of the mouldboard plough literally made a dent in man's difficulties in growing food in European soil. It contributed to population growth and to other advances in technology and civilization.

*The inspiration for this post comes from memories of James Burke's groundbreaking Connections.

Imbolc

The first of February is the date of the Irish quarter-year festival called Imbolc. Imbolc is Old Irish for "in the belly"; it refers to the time of lactation in ewes and lambing, and was the official start of spring.

Imbolc may well be a neolithic tradition [neolithic is from Greek νέος (néos, "new") and λίθος (líthos, "stone") "new stone age"; c.10,200 BCE to c.4500-2000 BCE]. In Leinster, Ireland there is a stone tomb constructed between 3000 and 2500 BCE; the rising sun illuminates the passage into it twice a year, on Imbolc and Samhain.

In the Middle Ages, references to Imbolc are found in Irish literature salting in the 10th century. It became a time to think about the lengthening days and therefore time to think about the plantings ahead. (Conceptually, it was probably a precursor to Groundhog Day.)

The day became connected with St. Brigid, one of the three patron saints of Ireland.* The conflation of the saint with a fertility goddess leant itself to adding a lot of rituals and traditions to the day. Brigid's Crosses were woven from rushes for the occasion by young females, who would carry them while singing a hymn to Brigid.  Brigid would be invited into the home on the eve of Imbolc so that she would bless the house and family members. The ashes of the fire were carefully raked and smoothed that night; in the morning, they would be searched for any disturbance that suggested that Brigid had passed through. Brigid would be called upon to bless livestock for the coming year.

*St. Patrick and St. Columba were the other two.

Cold Weather

Okay, it wasn't that bad

Much of the United States is experiencing lower-than-usual temperatures recently—and the forecast is that there is more to come. The people reading this blog have (I hope) ready access to sources of heat and insulated housing, warm clothing and hot drinks, weather-proof shoes and knit hats. But what of folk centuries ago? How much can we know of the weather of past centuries?

A Chronological Listing of Early Weather Events by James A. Marusek (2010) compiles several sources of weather data from numerous historical records. The detail is praiseworthy. Just a sample from the time of and immediately following the Norman Invasion makes me glad I was not living through those years in Europe.

• 1066 A.D. In England, there was a great frost.
• Also refer to the section 1064 A.D. – 1071 A.D. for information on the drought and famine in Egypt during that timeframe.
• Winter of 1067/1068 A.D. The winter in Europe in the year 1067 was long and intensely cold and many people perished by cold and hunger.
• In 1067, the vine and fruit trees in France were killed [by the extreme cold].
• During 1067-68, in France, the winter between St. Brice to St. Gregory (from 13 November 1067 until 12 March 1068) was extremely severe. The vineyards and forest trees bore no fruit. The mishap brought forth by this and the previous years infertility produced in England such a famine, that the unfortunates were forced to eat dog and horse meat, yes, even to eat human flesh.
• In France, a terrible winter began on 13 November 1067 and lasted until 12 March 1068.
• In England in 1068, there was famine and plague after a severe winter.
• 1069 A.D. The rivers froze in the north of Germany.
• In the year 1069 in Germany, the winter was harsh and long. There was a shortage of wine and fruit because of the extreme cold. The rivers were frozen over. King Henry IV came to the countries of the Saxons and caused such carnage that the area was depopulated.
• In 1069, the Normans desolated England, and in the following year famine spread all over England, “so that man, driven by hungar, ate human, dog and horse flesh;’ some to sustain a miserable life sold themselves for slaves.
• [In England in 1069, there was a great dearth. The peasants of the north, unable any longer to secure dogs and horses to appease their hunger, sold themselves into slavery in order to be fed by their masters. All the land between Durham and York were laid waste, without inhabitants or people to till the soil for nine years. Some of the destitute resorted to cannibalism. A factor that contributed to this hardship was the taxes exacted by the conquerors. Peasants became discouraged, realizing that the fruits of their labor were taken from them as fast as they were earned.]

Abd al-Rahman al-Sufi, Astronomer

MS. Marsh 144, fol. 135v, Bodleian

The contributions of the Muslim world to astronomy are many, and I have only briefly touched on some of them (such as here). There were nine Muslim astronomers in particular who made major contributions. One of them was the Iranian Abd al-Rahman al-Sufi (7 December 903 - 25 May 986). His name indicates that he was a Sufi Muslim, like Rumi.

al-Sufi translated and expanded on the work of the Greeks, especially attempting to reconcile the Greek and Arabic star charts and constellations. In 964 he published Suwar al-Kawakib al-Thabitah, the "Book of Fixed Stars."* In it he gave the latitude and longitude of hundreds of stars for the year 964 from two views: from both the exterior and interior of a celestial globe. The oldest surviving manuscript known is in the Bodleian Library and was created about 1009 by al-Sufi's son. There was no English translation of this book until 2013.

Among the "firsts" that can be credited to al-Sufi's work are the following identifications:

Ursa Major

• "the little cloud" that we call the Andromeda Galaxy.
• the Large Magellanic Cloud*
• the Omicron Velorum star cluster
• a "nebulous object" in Vulpecula, now called "Al Sufi's Cluster"

He also describes the astrolabe and lists a thousand uses of it.

The significance of al-Sufi's work led the astronomical community to name other objects after him, such as a a lunar crater (Azophi) and 12621 Alsufi, a minor plant in the asteroid belt with a period of 2000 days.

*There is an argument that he could not have known of the Magellanic Cloud until the same time as Western European astronomers in the 15th century because of its position in the Southern Hemisphere.

Regarding the Burning of Heretics

In 1401, during the reign of King Henry IV of England, Parliament passed a law known by the phrase, De heretic comburendo ["Regarding the burning of heretics"]. Heresy was always a concern, going back to Pelagius and Arius, but England had a new threat in the Middle Ages, in the form of John Wycliffe, whose attempts at reforming the church and politics did not sit well with those establishments.

True, by 1401 Wycliffe (c.1324-1384) had been dead for years, but his ideas had inspired a movement called Lollardy, and his plan to bring the word of God into the hands of the masses via his English-language Bible ran the risk (according to Church authorities) of leading the faithful astray by giving them the chance to read Scripture without the proper learning to understand its precise meaning. Something had to be done; something proper and legal—after all, England was a country governed by law, not whim.

Hence the De heretic comburendo, which described the Lollards as:

...divers false and perverse people of a certain new sect...they make and write books, they do wickedly instruct and inform people...and commit subversion of the said catholic faith. [link]

The law states further

...and they the same persons and every one of them, after such sentence promulgate shall receive, and them before the people in an high place cause to be burnt, that such punishment may strike fear into the minds of others, ...

This statute stayed on the books in England until 1677.

Charlemagne's Enemy

Much is made of Charlemagne and his unification and christianization of much of Western Europe. What is the other side of the story, however? What of the peoples he attacked and conquered? Charlemagne didn't just proclaim that Christianity was the way to go and let people flock to his standard, begging for conversion. He deliberately set out to convert his part of the world to Christianity.

Widukind gathers support to rebel against Charlemagne

When Charlemagne and the Franks went into Saxon territory and destroyed the irminsul, he provoked the strongest possible reaction. Initially, Charlemagne was successful, even though the Saxons dealt some serious damage, like striking into Frankish territory and destroying property. Charlemagne subdued many of the Saxon tribes and had their leaders attend his court.

One of them refused to attend. The leader of the Saxons (according to the Royal Frankish Annals) who retaliated was called Widukind. (That was probably not his name; it means "Wood Child" and may just be a nickname by which the Franks knew him.) While the other nobles were pledging their faith to Charlemagne at Paderborn, Widukind was off planning insurrection. In 782, while Charlemagne was in Spain, Widukind convinced the Saxon nobles to join him in fighting back against Frankish rule. On his return from Spain, Charlemagne retaliated by capturing and executing rebels—thousands of them.

Despite the Widukind-led opposition, Charlemagne and Franks were eventually victorious. In 785, all resistance was finally crushed. Widukind surrendered on condition that he would not be harmed. His new king was not interested in harming him: he wanted to convert him. After all the years of fighting and trying to preserve his way of life, Widukind was baptized a Christian.

We have very little factual data about Widukind, especially after his conversion. Frankish sources say Charlemagne was his godfather and that Widukind accompanied him on a military campaign.  For later generations of Saxon culture, however, he took on a legendary quality as a symbol of Saxon independence against Charlemagne.

The Irminsul

Remains of an irminsul in Friedrichsgrund

The Royal Frankish Annals have an entry for 772:

The most gracious Lord King Charles then held an assembly at Worms. From Worms he marched first into Saxony. Capturing the castle of Eresburg, he proceeded as far as the Irminsul, destroyed this idol and carried away the gold and silver which he found. 

What was the Irminsul? Rudolf of Fulda, who wrote histories that include the biography of Saint Leoba, defines irminsul in his De miraculis sancti Alexandri ["On the miracles of Saint Alexander"] as "universal column, upholding all things." The irminsul was a pillar made either from a tree trunk or stone and used as a focal point of worship in non-Christian Europe. Records do not exist that would let us zero in on its meaning and purpose; it is simply clear that it was a symbol of paganism and a site of worship.

Attempts to determine the meaning of the name are inconclusive—none are met with universal agreement. The name irminsul, as well as the presence of a Germanic tribe Irminones (mentioned in Tacitus' Germania), suggest that there was a Saxon god named Irmin. Some scholars suggest that Irmin was an epithet of Odin, some say Tyr.

The 12th century Middle High German Kaiserchronik ["Chronicle of Emperors"] uses the term irminsul a few times, such as when discussing Nero:

"He climbed upon an Irminsul
the peasants all bowed before him"

There were likely irminsuls in many locations, constructed of different materials; see the picture above for the remains of one. The best known one was probably that mentioned in the Royal Frankish Annals above, destroyed by Charlemagne. The consequences of that act are worth a look; but that's for tomorrow.