Showing posts with label King Henry III. Show all posts
Showing posts with label King Henry III. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 20, 2023

Henry's Statute of Jewry

St. Augustine of Hippo (354 - 430) was one of the most influential writers in Christianity in its first few centuries. He believed that Jews should be tolerated by Christians because God chose them for a special purpose. Through the years, however, hostility to the Jews grew; they were made scapegoats for problems and accused of many horrible acts.

Despite this hostility, Jews created communities all over the world. The illustration shows Jewish communities in medieval England. King Henry III instituted repressive laws intended to segregate and oppress Jews. The Statute of Jewry in 1253 had 13 articles, some of which are listed here:

Article One: Jews could live in England provided that they serve the king in some manner. (This might include financial support or civil service.)

Article Two stated that no new synagogues could be constructed.

Article Three: Jews in synagogues must keep their voices low while praying so that no one else could hear them.

Article Four: Jews must donate money to their local Christian church.

Article Five banned Christians from working for Jews or living in Jews' houses.

Article Six banned Jews from eating meat during Lent.

Article Seven: Jews may not publicly dispute the Christian faith.

Article Eight banned romantic relations between Christians and Jews.

Contemporary historian Matthew Paris followed the Augustinian view of Jews, and did not approve of Henry's policies regarding them, which mirrored the papal view at the time (Innocent IV). Through Paris we discover that antipathy toward the Jews was not universal. His tolerant attitude is tested by relating incidents of supposed "blood libel" (the notion that Jews killed Christians in order to use their blood in Jewish rituals), but he has sympathy for their oppression and the financial extortion brought upon them by kings and others who saw Jews as a source of easy money. Through Matthew Paris we can see that the medieval attitude toward Jews was not monolithic.

I want to relate another article of the Statute, however, Article Nine. Article Nine commanded every Jew to wear a badge conspicuously. The yellow Star of David forced upon Jews in Germany during World War II is a familiar image. It turns out, however, that the "yellow badge" has a long history stretching back even before Henry III, but that's a story for tomorrow.

Monday, June 19, 2023

Matthew Paris

Matthew Paris (c.1200 - 1259) was a Benedictine monk at the Abbey of St. Albans, known to us for his numerous illustrated written works. We do not know why his surname was "Paris"; we have no record of him studying or living there, although given the era in which he lived it is not surprising that he wrote in either Latin or Norman French.

He was an Englishman who did get sent to Norway once to reform a Benedictine monastery on the island of Nidarholm. This gave him an opportunity to be an eyewitness to events surrounding King Haakon IV. His status as an eyewitness to history of his time is what makes him so valuable (although we are sure bias crept into some of his work).

His major work was the Chronica Majora, borrowing from Roger of Wendover's Flores Historiarum, but adding his own observations from 1235 on. An abridged version, his Historia Anglorum covers the years 1070 through 1253. There is a manuscript version which also includes the final part of the Chronica Majora covering the years 1254-1259, all in Paris's handwriting except for a last entry making note of Paris's death and having an illustration of him on his deathbed.

All the other illustrations in his writings are by him, and he had decent skill at drawing. Seen here is the most detailed map of four he produced. Another, showing the trip from London to Rome with sketches of some towns along the way, can be seen here. A picture of a beheading is here.

Paris lived while Henry III was King of England, and records many events from his reign. Paris and Roger of Wendover relate their concern about the increasing percentage of (French) foreigners coming to England. Paris and Henry met in 1236 and kept in touch, but Paris did not approve of the direction the reign was going and his account of Henry's actions is often unflattering.

One of Henry's actions that Paris might have approved (I say might)—and the modern world would certainly condemn—is Henry's "Statute of Jewry." I'll tell you about that next time.

Sunday, June 18, 2023

Henry III's Troubles

Henry III's most loyal and powerful supporter was William Marshal, but William's son was not of the same mind. Richard Marshal (1191 - 1234) was William's second son, and became the 3rd Earl of Pembroke on 6 April 1231.

Henry inherited not just a crown from his father, King John, but also a country where the ranks below that of king demanded more authority and autonomy. Magna Carta was not enough, and civil unrest between the crown and less-loyal factions was a constant threat. There were also smaller conflicts that erupted into larger conflicts whenever the king took sides.

The Bishop of Winchester, Peter Des Roches, had been an important figure in Henry's youth, but in 1233 he demanded a manor be returned to a friend of his, Peter de Maulay, from Gilbert Basset, who currently held it due to earlier strife. Henry supported the bishop; Basset resisted; Henry called Basset a traitor; Basset fled to southern Wales where Richard Marshal held lands; Basset had been a friend of Richard's older brother, William, who had been the 2nd Earl of Pembroke after their father. Richard felt he should shelter and support his brother's old friend, so that's what he did.

This was a tense situation. Henry did not want to alienate Richard, and a date was sent to discuss the matter face-to-face in Gloucester, but Richard did not trust that Henry might not use the event to arrest him, so he refused to meet. Henry sent the Bishop of St. Davids to threaten Richard that his relationship with the king was in danger of being cut off. Meanwhile, the king's bailiffs demanded that one of Richard's castles, Usk Castle, be surrendered to them, with which his garrison at Usk complied.

Richard probably did not want to appear to be in rebellion against the king, but when Basset decided to make a cavalry raid across England, he was forced to act. He decided to stick with his original support of Basset. Richard allied with Prince Llywelyn ab Iorwerth of Gwynedd, and quickly seized Usk and other castles. They continued to Monmouth, where Baldwin III, Count of Guînes, came out to fight. The illustration above is from historian Matthew Paris, showing Richard unhorsing Baldwin.

Richard did not have enough forces to go as far as London and challenge the king. Meanwhile, Henry did not want to commit too many forces to deal with Richard, and hoped for a peaceful settlement. A truce with France was coming to a close, and Henry feared using up troops at home in a rebellion when they might be needed on the continent to defend English-held territory there. An attempt at peace on 1 April 1234 negotiated by Templars failed, and a fight broke out during which Richard was wounded. He succumbed to his injuries on 15 April, and the rebellion died with him.

I was going to tell next about one of Henry's policy decisions that the modern world would condemn, but I feel the need to take a side trip to Matthew Paris, whose work has been mentioned several times throughout this blog but has never been given his own entry. That's for tomorrow.

Friday, June 16, 2023

King Henry III

When King John died, his son Henry (1207 - 1272) was only nine years old. It was 1216 and in the middle of the First Barons' War. Even though the Magna Carta had been signed the year before, giving more power to those who were not king, the barons still had issues with the way government was run.

Fortunately, William Marshall led the royal forces, defeating the rebel barons. John on his deathbed had asked William to become Henry's guardian. William Marshall was an obvious choice: he had been loyal to the crown for generations. Afterward, a regency government needed to be created to aid the young king. William asked Bishop of Winchester Peter des Roches to help guide Henry. He had been Henry's tutor since Henry was five.

The papal legate to England, Cardinal Guala Bicchieri, had declared the war against the barons to be a religious crusade, and threw his support to Henry, also making sure the ties between England and the papacy were strong. (Henry's father had declared England a papal fiefdom in order to gain the pope's total support.) Henry himself "took up the cross" and declared himself a crusader, giving him special protection from the pope.

Henry's authority as a king was somewhat restored through the efforts of William, Hubert de Burgh (mentioned here and here), and Peter des Roches, who was chosen to perform the coronation (seen here in a 13th century depiction). There were problems, however.: much of the civil structure across the country had collapsed during the war. The network of sheriffs who collected taxes had fallen apart.

Rebel barons (and even some loyalist ones) were ignoring the crown's demands for taxes, some building unapproved castles (the king had the right to approve castles, since they might be used in defense against him). These "adulterine" (unapproved) castles were a larger problem during The Anarchy.

Wales was always threatening rebellion. Henry finally resolved it by making the prince Llywelyn his justiciar (chief political officer) in Wales, underlining the crown's need to compromise over its ability to conquer.

Henry adopted Edward the Confessor as his patron saint. A few times that he planned to go on Crusade were foiled when he had to stay and deal with uprisings in his lands, especially those on the continent, such as Gascony

His reign was long and troubled, and I'll talk about it more very soon, but first we have to focus on his most steadfast support, William Marshall, and the troubles after William died. See you tomorrow.

Thursday, June 15, 2023

Quicklime

There was an actual medieval profession of lime burner, who burned calcium-rich minerals such as limestone, chalk, marble, or even sea shells. This was done to produce quicklime, which had a lot of useful properties. Dying, tanning leather, making soap, producing fertilizers, concrete—all used calcium oxide, called "quicklime."

The name, first seen as quyk lym in the late 1300s, comes from Latin calx viva, "lime quick"—using "quick" in the older sense of "living" because it was such an active substance. The ancient world discovered its usefulness for mortar (after being mixed with water to make a slurry). Limestone blocks of the pyramids have quicklime plaster. Rome used quicklime for construction extensively, and it is even found in the Great Wall of China.

The Ancient World also used it as a weapon in warfare. Powdered quicklime could be catapulted at enemies; its irritability in a person's eyes made them easy prey when the attacker engaged. Enough quicklime coming into contact with enough water could cause severe burns. King Henry III of England's (1216 - 1272) navy destroyed a French fleet by blinding the sailors with quicklime. (This was always a perilous gambit, since the wind might blow the power back to you.)

In the Middle Ages, when coal mining became cheaper and more widespread in the 12th century, burning to make quicklime was easier. It was used as mortar, plaster, for floors, and in frescoes.

One mis-use of quicklime in the Middle Ages was with corpses: it was thought to speed up decomposition, so sprinkling quicklime liberally when one needed a mass grave (after warfare, or in some responses to the Bubonic Plague) was thought to be efficient. It was also supposed to "sterilize" cesspits and counteract diseases they might engender. The truth is, however, that quicklime is actually a preservative; small amounts are sometimes used in flour to increase its acidity and act as a preservative and a leavener. Quicktime can cover the stench of decomposition, which may be why people thought it "got rid of the corpse" faster.

For many years I have read how Roman concrete became harder and more durable over time, defying logic. Very recently it was discovered that quicklime was the reason for its "self-healing" nature; here's a link to learn more.

I wanted to include a link to the reference above to Henry III, and I've discovered that I have mentioned him many times over 1263 blog posts, but have never given him his own entry. I'll will fix that oversight next time.

Friday, January 27, 2023

"The Hands of the King...

...are the hands of a healer." This line from The Lord of the Rings sounds fantastical, but as a first-rate historian and medievalist, J.R.R.Tolkien knew well the idea that the laying on of hands by a king (or queen: that's Mary I of England in the illustration) could heal illness. This was supposedly possible because of their "divine right" as anointed kings.

The King's Touch, or Royal Touch, was the practice of laying on of hands by English and French monarchs that was believed to cure diseases, particularly the King's Evil, scrofula. Hippocrates thought scrofula was a disproportionate accumulation of phlegm.

Scrofula, a disease of the lymph nodes, is now called mycobacterial cervical lymphadenitis, and is associated with tuberculosis. It usually manifests as a painless swelling in the lymph nodes of the neck caused by infection. It almost disappeared in the second half of the 20th century, but the appearance of HIV/AIDS has caused a small resurgence.

Where did the Royal Touch start? A 16th-century physician thought it began with Clovis I (reigned 481 - 511) after he accepted Christianity. Many other origins are offered. King Philip I of France (1052 - 1108) was perhaps the first time a king's touch was requested to heal a stubborn disease, so the French say. King Henry I of England (1068 - 1135) was appealed to for the same reason, although some scholars believe Edward the Confessor (reigned until 1066) was the first. The French denied this, and claimed that it started with Henry in England only because he was imitating Philip. What we can say is that records under Edward I show the practice of a penny given to sufferers afterward was established by 1276, two years after Edward's arrival back in England as king. Some say this means it was probably introduced by Edward's father, the pious Henry III, who was also a huge fan of Edward the Confessor and might have patterned his behavior after that monarch and therefore—but let's just stop there because there's too much speculation to reconcile all the conflicting theories. The record of tokens handed out suggests that Edward "touched" about a thousand people a year.

Scrofula became known as the "King's Evil" because an appeal to the king was considered the best recourse. John Gaddesden (1280 - 1361) recommends it as treatment for scrofula and other skin diseases. Eventually, a special gold-plated coin would be given by the king to the sufferer to be worn around the neck to ward off the disease. The truth is, the disease rarely was associated with death, and often went into remission on its own, supporting the notion that the king's touch cured the patient.

The Royal Touch persisted into the Renaissance, even though there was plenty of evidence that it did not inevitably lead to a cure. The formula in France added the line Le roi te touche, Dieu te guérisse ("The King touches you, may God heal you"), taking the burden of healing off the king's shoulders (or hands) and placing the possible healing on God. Louis XIV of France touched 1600 people on Easter 1680. Voltaire wrote that a mistress of Louis XIV died of scrofula despite "being very well touched by the king." Louis XV stopped the practice by not calling sufferers to be touched at Easter 1739. Louis XVI touched 2400 at his coronation in 1775, and Charles X touched 121 at his coronation in 1825, but there are no records of the Royal Touch being used after that date.

But where does the word scrofula come from? That's a slightly trickier question that will lead us into sympathetic magic and the Doctrine of Signatures. That's for another day.

Tuesday, January 24, 2023

Edward I — Civil Warrior

The future King Edward I (pictured here with his wife Eleanor and showing his reported blepharoptosis, drooping left eye) did not always support his father, the current King Henry III. Henry's barons were looking for a restoration and extension of Magna Carta, reducing the powers of the Crown.

Edward was sympathetic to some of the barons' desires for reform; at least, he sided with them for a time, possibly just looking to accelerate his accession to the throne. Henry prevailed against them, however, and his statements at the time show that he felt Edward had come under bad influence, and father and son were eventually reconciled.

When Simon de Montfort, 6th Earl of Leicester, led the barons in open rebellion, the Second Barons' War* (1264 - 1267) saw father and son working together. The barons wanted a council of barons to make decisions, not the king's favorites; not an awful idea, and Montfort did intend to broaden Parliament to include commoners, but their other "needs" were questionable. For one thing, Montfort's sons and supporters massacred hundreds of Jews in Worcester, Winchester, Lincoln, Cambridge, and Canterbury in order to eliminate debts owed to them.

Grievances against Henry were not without merit, given his increasing demand for taxes. Some of these demands had nothing to do with running England: for instance, he needed funds to attack Sicily on behalf of Pope Innocent IV.

Reformers versus royalists met at the Battle of Lewes in May 1264, at which Henry III was captured by Montfort's forces when Edward left his father's side to pursue some retreaters. Montfort took charge of government for about a year, but his governmental changes did not sit well with all of his followers: the nobles with him did not approve of his attempt to give power to commoners in Parliament. Loyalties shifted, and a year after Lewes, Edward's now superior forces defeated and killed Montfort at the Battle of Evesham.

Edward acquitted himself well as a leader of the royal forces to win his father's freedom, and although his earlier empathy with the reformers and Montfort could easily have led him to accept Montfort's reforms and become the next king (although with less executive and legislative power), he stayed true to his father's rule.

With order restored and the relationship between father and son on firm footing, it was time for Edward to prove himself in other ways. When he was 29 years old, he pledged to go on Crusade. This Ninth Crusade (1271 - 1272, sometimes called "Lord Edward's Crusade") is known not only as an extension of the Eighth Crusade, but also as the last Crusade ever actually to reach the Holy Land. But that's a topic for next time.


*The First Barons' War was alluded to here.

Sunday, January 22, 2023

Edward I — The Child

When Henry III's eldest son was born on 18 June 1239, he gave him an unusual name. Edward was an Anglo-Saxon name, in a court that spoke Norman French. Henry, however, was a great fan of the reputation of Edward the Confessor and celebrated his feast day (Edward had been canonized in 1161) lavishly.

Medieval biographer Matthew Paris reports that the joy at the heir's birth turned sour for some, as Henry made it clear that the messengers sent throughout the realm to announce the birth were supposed to return laden with gifts for the occasion.

Kings and queens did not raised their own children, and Edward was ensconced in his own chamber at Windsor before the end of that summer, and put in the care of Sybil de Cormeilles, who had been Queen Eleanor's midwife and her husband, Hugh Giffard. He also had two wet nurses, Alica and Sarah; the "staff" for the royal babe was rounded out by Walter de Day, a clerk appointed to assist Giffard.

Because it is good for children to have playmates, Edward was joined by a cousin (whose mother died in 1240), two sons of a crossbowman in the king's service, and the son of one of Henry III's knights, Nicholas de Molis.

In October 1242, when Edward was three years old, his father ordered the constable of Windsor to provide two tuns* of good wine for the children, because he had heard that they had no good wine to drink. Also that year the sheriff of Gloucester was ordered to procure 15 lampreys to be sent one by one to the prince's "household." Scarlet robes with fur trim followed for Edward and his one-year-younger sister Margaret, and saddles made with two seats, so they could be taken on rides.

Edward grew tall and athletic, ultimately reaching 6'2" and earning the nickname "Longshanks"; nevertheless, he was frequently ill in his youth. In 1246 he was so ill while the whole family was traveling that his mother stayed with him for three weeks at the abbey where they were housed. The following year Henry asked all religious houses to pray for his health when he fell ill yet again.

We know nothing of his education, but he of course spoke French. He had some knowledge of Latin and could speak at least some English. Whether he could read or write is unknown; he would have had scribes for all his thoughts and proclamations. It was more important that he learn martial skills and knowledge of politics. He was armored and weaponed at the age of 17 for his first tournament in 1256, and remained unscathed despite reports of many injuries. It is uncertain whether his skill or his opponents' respect for his status won that day.

His first years were financed by the Exchequer, but eventually he would be granted the revenues from lands the king held. One of his first grants was the Duchy of Gascony, although he gained no revenue because the 6th Earl of Leicester, Simon de Montfort, had been made its governor.

The Song of Lewes, a Latin poem celebrating Simon de Montfort's victory against Henry and Edward at the Battle of Lewes, refers to Edward as a leopard. It was not meant to be complimentary, which I will explain in the next post.

*A tun was the equivalent of four hogsheads; a hogshead equalled 63 gallons.

Saturday, January 21, 2023

Gascony/Aquitaine

North of the Pyrenees in what we now think of as southwestern France is an area the Romans called Aquitania from the Latin aqua, "water," because of the many rivers flowing from the Pyrenees. We think. The people living there were the Ausci, mentioned by Caesar (whose men conquered it in the 50s BCE), and so the name of the land might have come about to mean "the land of the Ausci."

Skipping a few centuries and some Roman name and border changes, we find the Royal Frankish Annals refer to the "Wascones" in the area. The w=g linguistic link (William=Guillaume, warranty=guarantee, warden=guardian) that we find suggests that the Wascones turned into Gascons; hence the name Gascony.

In 1152, Henry II married Eleanor of Aquitaine. Aquitaine was by this time a much larger area that included the Duchy of Gascony, and was now in the hands of the kings of England. Henry's grandson, Henry III, personally went to the Duchy of Gascony to look into mismanagement by the not-always-faithful-to-Henry Simon de Montfort. While in the area, Henry arranged the marriage of his son Edward (later King Edward I) to Eleanor of Castile, daughter of Alfonso X who had been making claims on Gascony, since it was adjacent to his own territory. Alfonso renounced his claims as part of the marriage contract, and aided Henry in dealing with rebels living in the Pyrenees.

Even today Gascony is France's most rural area; then it was so little populated that Edward I decided it needed peopling, and he sent his men to create villages called bastides so that the land was not going to waste.

In 1328, when King Charles IV of France died, his nearest male relative was the son of his sister Isabella, King Edward III of England. Having the English king inherit the throne of France—although perfectly legal according to Salic Law—did not sit well with France, and so they ruled against it. Edward objected, the Hundred Years War began, and in 1453 Gascony became permanently French.

I want to offer a brief biography of Edward I next.

Sunday, October 30, 2022

Thomas Becket, the Legends

The martyrdom and subsequent popularity of Thomas Becket inspired several legends, which is not unusual. Since pilgrimages were popular in the Middle Ages, and could be lucrative for the pilgrimage site, linking a saint to your locale was a common industry. His shrine at Canterbury Cathedral generated so much income that his bones a mere 50 years later could be placed in a casket of gold and gems. The ceremony for this was attended by Henry III and Stephen Langton, then Archbishop of Canterbury, and afterward the date (7 July) became a second feast day for Becket, as well as 29 December, the date of his murder.

In the village of Otford, Kent, made two unusual claims about the new saint. One was "Becket's Well," a pair of springs that came forth from the ground after the archbishop struck the ground with his crozier because he did not like the taste of the local water. Its existence was not mentioned until the 13th century, and it is pictured here. Otford also claims an absence of nightingales because Becket was disturbed by their singing while he was visiting there.

Over in the town of Strood in Kent the men had been on Henry's side in his conflict with Becket. While Becket was riding through, they cut off his horse's tale, after which Becket's curse was that the men of Strood would be born with tails. (No evidence exists of this phenomenon.)

Part of veneration of St. Thomas involved partaking of the "water of St. Thomas." This was a mixture of water and the (supposed) blood of Thomas. This was frowned upon by the Church.

Numerous churches were (and still are) built with his name. The arms of the city of Canterbury incorporated his coat of arms. Portrayals of the murder exist in all artistic media. Chaucer used a pilgrimage in spring to his shrine as the frame story for The Canterbury Tales.

In the discussion of Becket's death and the aftermath, I've neglected the effect it had on one particular person connected to the event. How did Becket's old friend and the instigator (?) of his murder deal with the result? Come back tomorrow and I'll tell you about the Revolt of 1173-74.

Friday, October 14, 2022

Isabella of Gloucester

When King Henry II of England was looking for a wife for his younger son John, he was not as interested in pleasing John as he was in making an advantageous political and financial connection. If during this time John looked like Henry's favorite, it was only because all his other sons—including his oldest and heir, Henry the Young King because of all the power he had been given—and his wife had rebelled (unsuccessfully) against Henry.

Henry arranged betrothal to Isabella of Gloucester, but only after disinheriting her sisters so that all Gloucester lands would be hers on her father's death. This was in 1176, when John was nine and Isabella was only three or four years old. Both were great-grandchildren of Henry I, meaning the marriage was forbidden due to the laws of consanguinity. The wedding did not take place until 29 August 1189, at which John became Earl of Gloucester.

The Archbishop of Canterbury, Baldwin, placed the Gloucester lands under interdict—meaning no one living there could partake in any Catholic services—due to the violation of consanguinity laws. An appeal to (antipope) Pope Clement III for a dispensation. This was granted, on the condition that the two abstained from sex. This explains why 10 years of marriage produced no children.

John pursued the consanguinity prohibition when it suited him—which it did after he became king. Wanting an heir, and not being interested in having them with Isabella, he annulled the marriage on the grounds of too-close blood ties. He put Isabella in "honorable confinement" at Winchester with an allowance for her comfort. John's lack of sensitivity to the feelings of others—and, after all, there is no sign that he cared for Isabella at all except for the political advantage—had a "task" for her. When John re-married, to a twelve-year-old Isabella of Angoulême, he lodged his new bride at Winchester in the care of his first wife, increasing her allowance from £50 to £80 pounds because she was hosting a queen. The second Isabella stayed with the first until a few weeks before she gave birth to the future King Henry III.

Eventually he found a new marriage for Isabella: in 1214, the Earl of Essex, Geoffrey de Mandeville paid to John 20,000 marks for the privilege to marry Isabella. He was a much younger man, but he died two years later. Unfortunately, because at the time of his death he had been rebelling against John, John confiscated all his lands, which included Isabella's Gloucester lands.

Now a poor widow, she married again a year later, to Hubert de Burgh who became the Chief Justiciar under John and John's son, Henry III. Sadly, she died only a month after marrying Hugh. She was interred in Canterbury Cathedral.

Now, about that second wife also called Isabella: let's learn more about her next.

Tuesday, October 11, 2022

The Angevin Empire

When King Stephen I of England died in 1154, the terms of the Treaty of Wallingford meant his rival's son would inherit the throne. Henry of Anjou became King Henry II of England and started the Angevin Empire. So what made it an empire? How large was it?

Well, England, of course, in which Henry had his grandest title of king, and also parts of Ireland and Wales. Through Henry's father, Geoffrey of Anjou, he was also Count of Anjou. Also, since Geoffrey took over Normandy not long before, Henry was Duke of Normandy. Moreover, because Henry married Eleanor of Aquitaine in 1152—who divorced the King of France to do so—he had Aquitaine.

The term "Angevin" was coined in 1887 by a British historian, based on "Anjou." Henry and his successors (sons Richard and John and John's son Henry III) would refer in documents to "our kingdom and everything subject to our rule whatever it may be" and never called it an empire or referred to themselves as Angevin. Technically, they were all Plantagenets.

Plantagenet was Geoffrey of Anjou's nickname. The plantagenet was the common broom, a flowering plant with bright yellow blossoms. Geoffrey was also known as Geoffrey the Handsome or the Fair. Perhaps his hair was lighter than typical, and the comparison to the golden flowers of the broom prompted the nickname. Even so, like the term "Angevin," it wasn't until Richard, 3rd Duke of York adopted Plantagenet as his family name during the Wars of the Roses that the term become attached to the whole hereditary line. It seems that Richard was linking himself to his ancestor Geoffrey in order to emphasize his proper place in the line of succession.

Extensive holdings on the continent (and perhaps spite, since Eleanor had abandoned being queen in France to become Queen Eleanor of England), made France a little hostile to the Angevin Empire. The problem created by Duke William of Normandy when he became King William of England in 1066 remained: how does a king of a country (England) react when he is likewise a lesser title (duke, count) in another country (France) and therefore subordinate to a king? That political oddity would define the English-French relationship for centuries.

It also calls into question the term "empire." To truly be an empire requires a centralized government and consistent laws and regulations throughout the territories. The varying laws and customs of the various Angevin territories were at odds with this definition.

Whether it was an empire like the Roman Empire or the medieval Holy Roman Empire, it didn't last more than a generation or two. Its demise will be the subject of the next post.

Saturday, September 24, 2022

Pope Innocent IV

Innocent IV (born Sinibaldo Fieschi) had a busy decade. He lived longer than that, of course, and was consequential, but there is a lot of uncertainty about him pre-elevation to the throne of Peter. He was born in Genoa, but some sources say it was further south in Manarola. There is a belief that he taught canon law in Bologna, but there is no record of it. Some biographies say he was the Bishop of Albenga in 1235, but from 1230 until 1255 Albania's bishop was named Simon.

One of his first problems as pope was dealing with conflicts between Gregory IX And Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II. One was that Frederick had been supportive of a Sixth Crusade, but then was lax about taking part. Another was that Frederick had captured some territories in Lombardy belonging to the Papal States. Gregory called a general council to vote to depose Frederick, but Frederick captured two cardinals who were on their way. This intimidated the remaining cardinals, who were reluctant to oppose the emperor afterward. Gregory had denounced Frederick as a heretic (he was such a religious skeptic that Dante placed him in the circle for heretics).

Innocent, in his earlier role as Cardinal Fieschi, was on good terms with Frederick, but as pope he had to continue the policies of his predecessors, demanding the return of lands in Lombardy. Frederick refused, of course, and his continued political attacks on papal rule created enough of a hostile environment in Rome that Innocent became concerned for his freedom. He snuck out of Rome in disguise in 1244, making his way ultimately to Genoa. A few months later he went to France, winding up in Lyon where he was warmly welcomed.

In December of 1244 he summoned his bishops to the First Council of Lyon; the goal was to minimize Frederick's authority. It was the smallest general council ever: many members feared Frederick's wrath and did not attend, and bishops from the Middle East and Far East were hampered in travel by (respectively) Muslim and Mongol hostilities (see here and here). (Innocent's attempts at dealing with Mongols shortly after would fail.) The council excommunicated Frederick, throwing Europe into turmoil until Frederick's death in 1250.

With Frderick's death, Innocent felt safe in returning to Italy. He also doubled down on the idea that he hd the right to interfere with secular politics. He appointed Afonso III in Portugal. He helped Henry III of England buy a title in Italy, even though Henry had been giving trouble to Archbishop Edmund Rich.

In other news, Innocent formally approved the Order of the Poor Clares, named for Francis of Assisi's friend. (In the picture above, he is granting charters to Franciscans and Dominicans.) He reversed earlier popes' orders to round up and burn copies of the Talmud, being convinced by a team of rabbis that the Talmud was a foundation for them to be able to understand the New Testament.

His time as pope has been woven through this blog for years, and it was high time he got his own titled post to bring some of these references together in one place.

Speaking of things that get mentions and might deserve a fuller explanation, the Papal States have been mentioned above, as well as here and here. Let's explain what they were and how they got started.

Sunday, March 27, 2022

Medieval Zoos

Collections of animals for private amusement or public display have existed for a long time. There is a current trend toward calling them "conservation parks" to move away from the connotations of 20th century zoos that housed animals with no regard to their natural habitats. "Zoo" itself was a shortened form of "zoological garden" or "zoological park" which were common in the 19th century. An early modern zoo, the London Zoo, opened in 1828 as the "Gardens and Menagerie of the Zoological Society of London." References to collections of animals earlier than the 19th century often use the term "menagerie" from the French ménage, "members of a household."

Pre-medieval evidence of menageries abounds in carved stone walls from Egypt and Mesopotamia, where we learn that rulers sent expeditions to collect giraffes, elephants, bears, dolphins, and birds. A Middle Assyrian Emperor had a collection of animals in the 11th century BCE. King Solomon had a menagerie, as did Nebuchadnezzar. Alexander the Great collected different animals from his expeditions and sent them back to Greece. The Romans kept various animals—bears and bulls for example—for entertainment in the Colosseum. (The illustration here is from Villard de Honnecourt.) Cortes destroyed a collection of animals maintained by Montezuma in 1520.

Caliph Harun al-Rashid sent an elephant as a gift to Charlemagne. Charlemagne created three menageries, and they included monkeys, lions, bears, camels, and falcons along with other exotic birds. Henry I of England had lions, leopards, and camels at his Woodstock palace. As early as 1204, "Bad" King John kept a collection of different animals at the Tower of London. The Tower had three leopards added when Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II sent them as a wedding gift to Henry III. The king of Norway sent a "white bear" (could they have subdued and sent a polar bear?) in 1251, and the king of France sent an elephant in 1254.

Clearly the desire to see exotic animals from distant lands (and the prestige of owning them) was of great interest for as long as human beings had the time and resources to collect and maintain them.

About Charlemagne's elephant, though...we've all heard about Hannibal trying to bring elephants over the alps to attack Rome. Bringing elephants to Europe predated Charlemagne by a millennium. What did it take to give an elephant to Charlemagne, and what happened to it? His name was Abul-Abbas, and I'll tell you about him next time.

Tuesday, March 1, 2022

The Inns of Court

To my surprise, I have used "law" or "laws" (should really get around to combining them) as keywords in 43 posts (out of nearly 800), but have never mentioned the Inns of Court, where civil law was learned.

In the early Middle Ages, law was taught by the clergy, but Pope Honorius III in 1218 forbade the clergy to practice civil law. Then, in 1234, Henry III forbade law schools within the London city limits. Laymen interested in teaching law moved outside London and looked for buildings or collections of buildings to buy or rent, and the guilds in which they worked evolved into the Inns of Court. Four Inns exist: The Honorable Societies of Lincoln's Inn, the Inner Temple, the Middle Temple, and Gray's Inn. They truly were inns, because students lived as well as learned there. They are all near each other.

Although Lincoln's Inn claims the earliest records going back to 1422 (incidentally, the picture above is the Lincoln's Inn library) we know that lawyers lived in the Temple as early as 1320, though not as teachers. In 1337 the place was divided into the Inner Temple, and the Middle Temple (as distinct from an Outer Temple that existed). By 1388 they were two distinct groups. In 1620, a meeting of senior judges decreed that all four were considered equal in order of precedence, regardless of when they may have been founded.

Like the seven subjects of the University curriculum, law students were expected to spend seven years learning the law, mostly by attending court and asking questions afterward. Their experience included dining communally with practicing barristers for networking and additional knowledge. It wasn't until the mid-18th century that common law became. subject for study in universities.

The Inns of Court recognized three levels: student (learning law), barrister (practicing law), and master of the bench (called "bencher"). Benchers were senior members of the Inns, and could be appointed by existing benchers when still a barrister. An appointed High Court Judge was automatically a bencher. Benchers were the governing body of their respective Inn. Their duties were to admit students, "graduate" students, and appoint other benchers. One bencher was appointed Treasurer for a term on one year.

But I know the question nagging at you is "Why were they called the Inner and Middle Temple?" You either know why, and are wondering if I'll address the subject, or don't know why, and are hoping I'll answer your question. Good news for both: I'll answer the question tomorrow.

If you are curious what the seven subjects were, you can find a list in this post, or you can learn more about them (and much more) here.

Thursday, April 14, 2016

Saluzzo and England and Griselda

Saluzzo, a town and principality in northern Italy, had some interesting connections to England. It was a simple tribal city-state in Roman times, but during the time of the Carolingians it became the hereditary property of the Marquesses of Saluzzo, who extended their control over a wider region in the north. It was frequently in conflict with its powerful neighbor, the Duchy of Savoy, which eventually assumed much of Saluzzo's territory. The Savoys were so powerful that the kings of England and France treated them very well.

Griselda's daughter is carried away [source]
One of the first strategic marriages between English and Italian noble families, however, was with Saluzzo. Alice of Saluzzo (d.1292) married Richard Fitzalan, the 8th Earl of Arundel. The marriage had been arranged by Eleanor of Provence, Queen to Henry III. Alice's father, Thomas I of Saluzzo, was an exemplary ruler under whom Saluzzo flourished like never before. This probably had a lot to do with choosing to form an alliance with Saluzzo by marriage.

Not all Marquesses of Saluzzo came off so well in history—or literature.

In Geoffrey Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, The Clerk's Tale tells of Griselda, whose hand in marriage is sought by Marquess Walter of Saluzzo. He marries her on the condition that she will always obey him, no matter what. She agrees. When she gives birth to a daughter, Walter decides to test her obedience: he has a soldier remove her daughter. Although Griselda has every reason to believe her daughter is being killed (actually, the girl is sent to be raised by Walter's sister), she remains obedient and kind to her husband.

Four years later, she gives birth to a son. Walter chooses a further test: he tells her son has to go as well, that he has permission from the pope to divorce her, and that she is to return to her father taking nothing but the smock she wears under her fine dress. She returns home, showing no signs of distress.

Years later, Walter summons Griselda to him. He tells her he is marrying again, a young wife this time, and wants Griselda to help prepare the house for a new young bride. Unbeknownst to Griselda, the new young bride is actually her now-grown daughter. Griselda patiently asks Walter to be kind to his new bride, who might not be able to endure his tests the way a woman raised in poverty could. Walter, much moved by her patience and faithfulness, confesses that they are still married, that her children are alive, and promises never to test her again. They live happily ever after.

Chaucer did not invent this story. He probably got it from Boccaccio's Decameron, and the folktale of patient Griselda was around for a long time. Why the "villain" is a Marquess of Saluzzo is the mystery. But then, not all Marquesses were as beloved as Thomas I.  In Boccaccio's lifetime, Saluzzo experienced some civil strife. Manfred V of Saluzzo was forced to give up a claim to the throne in 1334 after being caught in a sex scandal with his own mother, then usurped the throne in 1341, but was forced to give it up a year later. 

Wednesday, April 13, 2016

Our Daily Bread

Bread has all the characteristics of a staple food: the plant is easy to grow, the product is relatively easy and cheap to produce, and it is adaptable to various shapes and uses. Human beings have been eating it for about 30,000 years, based on residue of starch found on tools used for pounding grain into meal.

The earliest breads were probably flatbreads, before rising or leavening agents were discovered. Some leavening would take place naturally, by airborne yeasts landing on dough left out. Pliny the Elder reported that Gauls and Iberians added the foam from beer to make bread that was lighter in texture.

The earliest known Arabic cookbook, The Book of Dishes, by Ibn Sayyar al-Warraq (10th century), explains:
Wheat bread agrees with almost everybody, particular varieties made with a generous amount of yeast and salt and allowed to fully ferment and bake well. Such breads are lighter and digest faster. Jizmazaj (thin bread with tamarisk seeds) and ruqaq (very thin bread) are by comparison less nourishing and digest much faster. Bread baked in malla (pit with hot ashes and stones), tabaq (large flat pan) and any other similar varieties that do not ferment or bake well are hard to digest and cause stomach aches. Only people used to strenuous labor can eat them more often.
Bread was considered so important to people and the economy that it was heavily regulated. The Assize of Bread and Ale during the reign of Henry III (1207 - 1272) determined "proper" weight and price and quality of bread.

Bread was such an important part of daily life that the name for someone with whom you spend a lot of time, companion, comes from the Old French compaignon, "one with whom one shares bread" (from Latin com="with" and panis="bread").

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

The Crusade Nobody Wanted

In 1244, allies of the Egyptian Mamluks, retreating westward from the advancing Mongols, stopped at Jerusalem long enough to recapture it from European Christian control. Jerusalem had come under Christian control during the Sixth Crusade under Holy Roman Emperor Frederick II in 1228.

King/Saint Louis sailing on the Seventh Crusade
King Louis IX of France, whose devotion was so great that he became Saint Louis, immediately began planning an action to return Jerusalem to Christian control. He sent word throughout Europe to join him in a Seventh Crusade.

Europe's response to this calamity was not what one would expect. The truth is, Europe was pretty busy with its own problems. The Pope, Innocent IV, who under usual circumstances would have been the one to call a Crusade, was locked in a political struggle with Frederick II over the question of which of them controlled the Holy Roman Empire. Henry III of England was dealing with Simon de Montfort's rebellion. (Henry did agree not to attack France while Louis was away.)

Louis appealed to Hungary, but King Béla IV was rebuilding after a Mongol invasion. Louis even appealed to King Haakon IV of Norway. Haakon was interested in making deeper European ties, and had made a vow of Crusade once, but then converted it to a vow to fight against pagans in the north (Mongols had started coming north). Louis sent Matthew Paris to offer Haakon command of the French fleet, but Haakon refused.

The only person in Europe who was keen for this Crusade was Louis himself, but as a "one man show" he was very well organized. He commissioned ships to be built specifically for transporting his men and horses and supplies, and raised money by collecting a tithe (tenth) from churches. He sailed to Cyprus for the winter, negotiating with other forces (such as the Knights Templar) for mutual help. He then went to Egypt, where he took the town of Damietta to use as a base. Then the annual flooding of the Nile took place, and he was grounded for six months.

From there it went downhill.

Monday, November 16, 2015

The Saint of Mystic, Connecticut

Off the coast of Mystic, Connecticut is Enders Island. Only 11 acres in size, it is named for Dr. Thomas B. Enders, who purchased it in 1918 from the Sisters of Charity and used it as a private estate. In 1954, his wife gave it to the Society of St. Edmund.

Edmund Rich (1175 - 1240), who became St. Edmund, was born on the feast day of St. Edmund the Martyr (20 November), and therefore was named for that saint. His father was a wealthy merchant, hence the surname "Rich" sometimes attached to Edmund. He studied in England and France, and lectured on Rhetoric and Arithmetic at Oxford. It was said that he studied so long at night that he was known to nod off during lectures.

Some time in the early 1200s he was ordained, earned his doctorate in divinity, and started lecturing on theology. By 1222 he was made a parish vicar in Wiltshire, and eventually became Archbishop of Canterbury as a compromise candidate after Pope Gregory IX had refused to confirm three previous appointees. The confirmation was a surprise, since Edmund championed ecclesiastical independence from Rome. But Edmund also was opposed to foreigners taking important offices in England, so he took the job to avoid the chance of the pope putting an outsider in that chair.

Edmund was a powerful preacher and a strong politician. He fought Henry on his excesses against the Church. He also fought against the Pope, who wanted the Church in England firmly under papal control. On a 1240 trip to Rome, Edmund became ill at the Cistercian Pontigny Abbey and headed back to England, but died after 50 miles. The body was taken back to Pontigny. Within a year of his death, miracles were allegedly taking place at his grave, miraculous healings that motivated full canonization in only six years. His feast day is 16 November.

Although his body was left at Pontigny Abbey, relics were granted to other locations. One of his arms  made it to North America: it is in the Chapel of Our Lady of the Assumption at St. Edmund's Retreat on Enders Island in Connecticut.

Monday, September 22, 2014

The Scottish-English Border

The border separating England from Scotland almost became a little thicker last week, and this week is the anniversary of its creation, with the Treaty of York on 25 September 1237. The border had, not surprisingly, fluctuated over the years, but the Treaty of York effectively stopped Scotland's attempts to push south.

The Treaty itself was not a grandly historical moment—and historians often skip over it when discussing relations between the two countries—but the event is interesting because of the account by Matthew Paris and the relationship between the participants, King Alexander II of Scotland and King Henry III of England. The two of them worked well together when they had to; after all, Alexander had married Henry's sister Joan in 1221, and Alexander's sister had married Henry's former regent, the influential Hubert de Burgh.

But Matthew Paris (known for being less than objective or factual) made the Treaty far more interesting by lying about the signing. He had nothing good to say about Alexander, portraying him as uncivil and aggressive toward the attending papal legate, Otho, who had been invited by Henry. Supposedly, Alexander claimed that, since no papal legate had ever been to Scotland, he would not allow any papal legate to visit the country. This was untrue, since papal legates had visited Scotland under Alexander's grandfather, uncle, and father; Alexander himself had seen a papal legate earlier.

The Treaty did not end a vicious war or curtail a rebellion; in some ways, it merely ratified current conditions. Scotland gave up claims to Northumberland, Cumberland, and Westmorland, and gave up a debt of 15,000 silver marks owed to Scotland that had been given to King John. Scotland also forgave the breaking of promises to marry some of Alexander's sisters to prominent Englishmen. England, in turn, gave Scotland specific territories within Northumberland and Cumberland, with complete judicial control over actions within.

Both countries also ratified that previous treaties and agreements that did not contradict the Treaty of York would be honored.

All in all, the Treaty did not seem to do much, and yet unfulfilled aristocratic marriage promises, royal debts, and border disputes had been enough to cause war, or at least great hostility between nations. The document signed at York that day may well have prevented much strife that otherwise would have followed.