Who Were the Beghards?

After the successful spread in the Low Countries of the simplified Christian lifestyle of laywomen called Beguines, a similar trend appeared for laymen. Groups like these did not take any formal vows or join monasteries. Rather, they chose to live simply and do good works, often in communities. One of the laymen groups was called the Beghards.

Beghards were often older, working men who were not wealthy to begin with, or who found themselves in a situation in life where they might have difficulty supporting themselves. They owned no property and agreed that the money in the community would be kept together for community needs. Members shared a living space. (The illustration is of a former beguinage in a borough of Stuttgart.) They chose leaders to guide them.

The origin of the terms "Beguine" and "Beghard" are unknown. They likely have nothing to do with begging, and are supposed to come from the Flemish beghen, "to pray."

Synods in 1259, in 1261, and in 1282 produced laws limiting their growth. They were condemned strongly by the Council of Vienne in 1312, but Pope John XXII overrode the Council. What was so bad about Beguines and Beghards? Because they were not educated as clergy, their practices and beliefs could develop into ideas opposed to official doctrine. Also, formal religious groups that took vows were offended by the idea that a random group could attain "religious status" without committing themselves by taking vows. In fact, Beghards and Beguines could leave their community at any time.

Beguines and Beghards started to wane before the Middle Ages were over, but some communities lingered; there were still 34 communities in 1734 in Flanders. Pope Gregory XVI referred to them in a 1832 encyclical. The world's "last Beguine" died in 2013.

The Council of Vienne tackled church reform, and attacked another religious group, which I'll tell you about next time.

The Trial of Alice Kyteler, Aftermath

Sometimes, zeal can backfire. The man who presided over the trial that created the first condemnation for witchcraft in Ireland went a little too far. For the background on the trial, read parts one, two, and three.

The trial had consequences for Bishop Richard Ledrede himself. Roger Outlaw, the Lord Chancellor of Ireland, quarreled with Ledrede about his conduct.  Roger (brother of the accused's dead first husband) teamed with the Seneschal of Kilkenny, Andrew le Poer (brother of the accused's dead fourth husband), to have Bishop Ledrede temporarily imprisoned.

When Ledrede got out, he attempted (unsuccessfully) to have Roger tried for heresy. A Commission of Inquiry declared Roger a faithful Christian who was innocent of heresy. Ledrede was then summoned before the Irish Privy Council to account for his actions. They were also concerned about public accusations he had made against the Archbishop of Dublin, Alexander de Bicknor.

Ledrede followed the example of Alice Kyteler by fleeing Ireland; in his case, however, he did not disappear: he fled to the Papal Court of Pope John XXII in Avignon, whom he thought would surely support him, since John was urging all priests to root out and prosecute witchcraft.

Archbishop Bicknor followed him to argue his side, and Bicknor had a trump card: he was on very good terms with England's King Edward III. Edward sent a message to John, telling him that Ledrede was notorious for stirring things up and should not be believed. The Papal Court mediated and persuaded both clerics to drop their charges against each other.

Back in Kilkenny, Bishop Ledrede got revenge against Arnold le Poer in 1331, making an accusation of heresy against him and managing to get him imprisoned, where he died. He angered the king again in 1355-56, however, when he excommunicated the Lord Treasurer, William de Bromley, in a foolish attempt to prevent Bromley from collecting taxes in the diocese. Realizing this was a bad move, he made an apology to the king and was forgiven.

His remaining few years were quiet ones, spent composing hymns for church services that are collected in the Red Book of Ossory. He died in 1360 or 1361 and was buried in the chancel of St. Canice's Cathedral (pictured).

Attacking de Bicknor as he did was a mistake; de Bicknor was too powerful and significant a character to be bullied by Ledrede, as I'll explain tomorrow.

The Trial of Alice Kyteler, Part 1

When Pope John XXII became the target of an assassination attempt using poison and witchcraft, he decided that witchcraft should be labeled heresy. This was in 1320, although it did not become official Church policy until 1326 with the papal bull known as Super illius specula ("Upon His Watchtower"; bulls are known by their opening phrases). In 1324, Bishop Richard Ledrede of St. Canice's Cathedral in Kilkenny declared his diocese a hotbed of devil worshippers, due to the affair of Alice Kyteler. (The illustration show's Alice's house, which is now a pub.)

Alice was the only child of a wealthy Flemish merchant, born about 1263. She married a wealthy merchant and moneylender named William Outlaw. After William died Alice shared the business with her stepson, also named William.

Alice married again ... and again ... and again. By 1302 she was married to Adam Blunt, also a moneylender. He had children from a previous marriage. Adam died within a couple years of marriage to Alice. By 1309, she was married to a wealthy Tipperary landowner named Richard de Valle. He died about 1316, and she was owed a widow's dower; her stepson (also named Richard) denied her this, and she brought legal proceedings against him. Richard and his siblings, who wished to keep that money for themselves (which would have been illegal) were quite angry with her. Alice then married a fourth time to John le Poer, who also had children from a prior marriage.

Through all this, she accumulated a substantial amount of wealth and maintained the business she shared with her stepson, William. This was despite the fact that Alice and her second husband Adam had briefly been suspected of killing the elder William.

Her other stepchildren, however, were not so agreeable to her. As John le Poer was sick and dying, he expressed the concern that he was being poisoned by his wife. After his death, his children accused her of poison and witchcraft, accusations in which they were joined by her other stepchildren. The children complained to Bishop Ledrede, who sprang into action.

Investigation led to seven charges:

1. Denying Christ and the Church.
2. Sacrificing animals to demons.
3. Asking demons for advice.
4. Having a sexual relationship with an incubus.
5. Holding coven meetings and burning candles in the church at night without permission.
6. Making magic powders and potions from ingredients including but not limited to body parts of unbaptized children, worms, etc.
7. Killing her husbands for their money, which she shared with her stepson William Outlaw.

Her maid, Petronilla de Meath, was also accused. William Outlaw was also called to court for heresy and consorting with a heretic.

The stepchildren were likely thinking they could go through the bishop's ecclesiastical court for a quicker decision that would benefit them, rather than going through the civil courts which had more rules. Things were not that simple, however, and the case of the first person condemned for witchcraft in Ireland gets more complicated, which I'll tell you about tomorrow.

The Pope vs. Witchcraft

John XXII (pope from 1316 - 1334 in Avignon) had a lot of opinions, getting involved in politics all over Christendom, opposing the Franciscan ideal of the need for poverty, and passing numerous papal bulls to enforce his numerous ideas of what was right and proper.

After an assassination attempt on him that used poison and sorcery, he turned his attention to condemning witchcraft. His bull of 1326 said:

With grief we discover, and the very thought of it wrings our soul with anguish, that there are many Christians only in name; many who turn away from the light which once was theirs, and allow their minds to be so clouded with the darkness of error as to enter into a league with death and a compact with hell. They sacrifice to demons and adore them, they make or cause to be made images, rings, mirrors, phials or some such things in which by the art of magic evil spirits are to be enclosed. From them they seek and receive replies, and ask aid in satisfying their evil desires. For a foul purpose they submit to the foulest slavery. Alas! this deadly malady is increasing more than usual in the world and inflicting greater and greater ravages on the flock of Christ.

The practice of witchcraft had not been formally condemned prior to this, although there were certainly instances of the authorities trying people for using witchcraft to hurt others. This action by John put witchcraft under the label of heresy; it therefore fell under the jurisdiction of the Inquisition, and those suspected of practicing could be rounded up, questioned, and made to recant or else to suffer.

This papal bull established the official attitude toward witchcraft for the rest of the Middle Ages. But the question raised is: How big a deal was witchcraft? Was it popular? What form did it take? Let's look at witchcraft tomorrow.

Female Physicians

We talked here about how women and Jewish women could be physicians in the Middle Ages, but it would be a mistake to think that there was no opposition to this phenomenon, especially after a change in 1220.

Consider that, technically, anyone could practice medicine. No one would object to a mother caring for a family member, or a nun feeding a leper (as in the illustration). More formal, professional medical practice in France, however, required a degree from the University of Paris. This prevented many, women especially, from helping their fellow human beings. There were consequences for treating the sick if you were not "official."

Consider the case of Jacqueline Felice de Almania, a woman from Florence who was living in Paris. Her reputation was excellent: she was known for finding cures for patients who had been treated elsewhere without relief. She did not charge fees unless the patient was cured. 

In 1322, she was brought to trial by the University of Paris. The accusation was treating patients without any "real" knowledge of medicine; that is, she did not have a degree. Seven former patients were brought as witnesses; all testified that she had helped them where male doctors had failed. Her actions involved analyzing urine by sight, taking the pulse of patients, examining their limbs, etc. She was found guilty of practicing without a license, fined 60 pounds, and threatened with excommunication if she ever treated patients again.

The year 1322 was popular for cracking down on unlicensed medical practitioners. In that same year, records show women named Clarice of Rouen (banned for treating men), Jeanne the Convert (likely originally a Jew) of Saint-Médicis, Marguerite of Ypres, and "Jewess Belota" all were banned from practicing medicine.

The University of Paris in 1325 appealed to Pope John XXII to speak out strongly on this issue. He wrote to Bishop Stephen of Paris to forbid women practicing without medical knowledge or acting as midwives, because what they were doing was akin to witchcraft. A bit of a stretch to go from medicine to witchcraft just because the person was female, but then, John was determined to stamp out witchcraft...and a lot of other things, which I'll talk more about tomorrow.

(By the way, women earning medical degrees at the University of Paris was suppressed until the 19th century!)

The Empty Papacy

The Avignon Papacy, when the French Pope Clement V decided to move the papal headquarters from Rome to Avignon, was not a simple change in geographical location. Many non-French cardinals and others opposed the move, and the rivalries that rose led in one case to the longest period in history without a functioning pope.

Clement died 20 April 1314. The papal conclave to elect a successor was convened on 1 May and lasted until 7 August 1316 with the election of John XXII. The conclave had such a difficult time electing a pope because of three opposing factions of cardinals: Italian (eight cardinals, who wanted to return to Rome), Gascon (10 cardinals, who enjoyed the convenience of having the papal offices so close to home), and French/Provençal (five cardinals, who did not appreciate a return to Rome or the special privileges enjoyed by the Gascon cardinals under the Aquitainian Clement V).

The Italian cardinals tried and failed to gain the support of the Provençal cardinals. The various groups were refusing to meet until they could get their own politics worked out. King Philip IV of France convened a group of jurists to help find a resolution, but he died on 29 November 1314. His son, Louis X, tried to get the cardinals to come together at Lyons.

Louis had a special reason to get a pope elected. His wife had been imprisoned for adultery, but automatically became queen consort when Louis succeeded his father to the throne. Louis wanted a wife to rule by his side and bear children, but without a pope, he could not obtain the annulment he needed. Louis died on 5 June 1316, and the papal conclave became the problem of his brother, Philip, who locked the cardinals in a Dominican convent until they made a final decision.

Ultimately, a compromise candidate was chosen: Jacques d'Euse was 72 years old, and his selection seems to have been a way of "kicking the can down the road" so that they could have a pope now, knowing that they would be having this discussion again presently. Jacques d'Euse surprised them all, however, ruling as Pope John XXII from 7 August 1316 until his death on 4 December 1334!

But back to Louis X of France. He never did get an annulment, but his problem was solved another way, and he was able to remarry and produce a son by his new wife, a son who reigned as King of France for five days. For that sad tale, you will have to wait until next time.

Berenger Fredoli and the Rebellious Canons

Bérenger Fredoli was a Frenchman with a successful religious career. Little is known about his youth, except that he was born in Vérune about 1250. Some of his career highlights include:

• Becoming chair of canon law at the University of Bologna.
• Being chosen by Pope Boniface VIII to help write the books of Canon Law known as the Decretals.
• Playing a prominent role in the dispute between Boniface and Philip IV over papal vs. monarchic authority.
• Becoming a cardinal in 1305 thanks to Pope Clement V.
• Almost becoming pope on the death of Clement V (but it went to John XXII).
• Became Dean of the Sacred College of Cardinals in 1321.

In July 1321, a document with his name on it was sent to Maiden Bradley Priory in Wiltshire, England. Maiden Bradly was founded in 1164 as a leper hospital. A few decades later, it was placed under the authority of Augustinian canons, but it had been not living by the proper Augustinian statutes. For these transgressions they had been excommunicated.

Bérenger's letter was on behalf of Pope John XXII, notions that they had seen the error of their ways, punished the offenders, and were granted absolution, lifting their excommunicated status.

Berenger's name cropped up on another letter just a few years ago, regarding the persecution of the Templars. We will look at that next.

Ars nova

from Italian manuscript J. IV.115,
an example of Ars Nova notation

Beginning in the early 1300s there was a change in musical style, an evolution from monophony (a single melody) to polyphony, in which two or more lines of melody intermingled. The result was to give music a richer, more expressive sound.

The Church didn't like it.

Pope John XXII rejected it (as he tried to reject elections of which he did not approve). The sacred monophonic chant of the Church was being mixed with secular tunes. Music was becoming "fancy" and "frivolous" in ways that did not suit the pope.

The new style caught on, however, and there was no turning back. Two books describing the new technique helped to spread the new ideas. They were Ars novæ musicæ [New technique of music] by Jean de Muris c. 1320, and Ars nova notandi [New technique of musical notation] by Philippe de Vitry in about 1322. Because of these titles, 20th century historians refer to this style and period of time in music (the 14th century) as the Ars Nova. This new style developed at the same time in France and Italy. In France, one of its greatest exemplars was the poet Guillaume de Machaut. A sample of his musical composition is found in this post.

Among the new forms of non-sacred music given to us by the Ars Nova are the Madrigal, usually a song of love for two voices, and the Ballad, a story with a non-religious theme which was meant to be sung in public. The music in the manuscript of the Roman de Fauvel is an example of Ars nova.

Władysław the Elbow-high

Władysław the Elbow-high was honored
with a 500-Złotych gold coin in 2013

You may remember the story of the Carolingian king Pepin the Short; not a great nickname to have if you want to gain the respect of your people. Well, what if you were so short that you were called "Elbow-high?" That was the unfortunate nickname of a king of Poland.

Władysław I* (c.1260-2 March 1333) was so short that his nickname was "elbow" as in "elbow height." He was named King of Poland long after the death of his father, Casimir I. It was a position he was going to have to work for. Poland had long before been divided into different provinces. Władysław inherited one from his father, gained two more as his brothers died, and then set out to gain control of all the provinces and reunite Poland.

He had opposition. Although the province of Greater Poland had originally supported him, they switched their loyalty to Wenceslas II of Bohemia, who was crowned King of Poland in 1300. Władysław went to the pope to press his claim, but Boniface VIII was no help. He continued his campaign of invading and uniting provinces, taking over Lesser Poland and Pomerania; in 1314 he re-conquered Greater Poland and held it, despite an attack from John of Luxemburg, the King of Bohemia.

In 1318 he tried once again to gain support for becoming King of Poland. This time, Pope John XXII (who also wielded political power in this case) gave his support. Keeping Poland was not easy. He managed, however, to subdue the perennially bothersome Teutonic Knights, and he married one son to a Lithuanian, helping to stop Lithuanian raids into Poland. His reign was an important stage in reuniting Poland under one ruler.

*He was First or Fourth, depending on which historian you ask and whether they stick with a single dynasty or blend all historical rulers with the same first name together.

Church & State, Part 3 of 3

Part 1 showed how Christian writers eventually came to the conclusion that the State was not the result of Man's sinful nature, and had validity of its own. Part 2 talked about how the Church tried to assert its dominance in the Two Swords metaphor, especially with Pope Boniface VIII's Unam Sanctam.

Immediately after Unam Sanctam, John of Paris wrote De potentate regia et papali ("On royal and papal power"). John was a Dominican who may have been a pupil of Thomas Aquinas. His work intended to defend the rights and standing of the French king. His argument was that autonomous political institutions existed before Christ established the Church. They were therefore created by human nature, which was created by God. There was no reason to suppose that political institutions such as nations (or their rulers) owed anything to the Church.

Things got more heated in 1323 when Pope John XXII tried to interfere in the election of Louis IV of Bavaria, saying it was not valid until the pope confirmed it. Louis had himself crowned Holy Roman Emperor in Rome anyway. A quarrel ensued in which William of Ockham, currently under the protection of Louis for supposed heresies, took part. Ockham's approach was not just to give the State its due as ultimately an institution that is approved by God. His approach was that the monarch is granted his power by the collective consent of the governed. The pope, therefore, has no power to interfere in a nation's elections.

Moreover, Ockham said that the pope may well be the Vicar of Christ on Earth, but that does not mean he should be allowed absolute authority. There should be a check on papal authority, a council that advises and can overrule him. Many of the established religious orders worked this way.

Although popes may have opposed this idea, it took a council, the Council of Constance in 1414, to resolve the Western Schism started in 1378 when two men claimed to be the legitimate pope. Still, the relationship between Church and State will be debated forever, I am sure.

William of Ockham

The goal of Daily Medieval is to present a sampling of the infinite array of information about the Middle Ages in small, digestible amounts. It offers a taste of the thousand years of people, events, and ideas that don't get covered in the streamlined history books of standard academic courses. To that end, it tries to avoid those things that people "already know" and focus on the lesser-known lights that shone at the foundation of modern civilization. Sometimes, however, the obscure overlaps the well-known, and I find myself "forced" to write about something or someone that I worry is known well enough that the daily entry won't give the reader anything "new." My goal then becomes to broaden the reader's knowledge in unexpected ways.

Which brings us to William of Ockham. I would be surprised if readers of Daily Medieval had not heard of Occam's (or Ockham's) Razor, a guiding principle that says one should not make more assumptions than absolutely necessary to try to explain something.

William of Ockham (c.1285-1349) was responsible for so much more, however. Believed to have been born in Ockham in Surrey, England, he wrote about metaphysics, logic, theology, politics, and more. All this writing, however, happened when he left Oxford University in 1320 without a degree in theology. The prevailing theory for this unexpected departure is that he would not acquiesce to changing his commentary on the Sentences of Peter Lombard, a common part of the final examination for university students.

The basis for the theory is how the situation blew up years later. Ockham was summoned to Avignon to appear before Pope John XXII and a committee that would examine his writings. The committee, chaired by John Luttrell (an ex-chancellor of Oxford) found 51 heresies among William's commentary on the Sentences. It is believed that William escaped punishment by appealing to the Holy Roman Emperor (at the time, Louis IV), who was not always on good terms with the pope, saying to him "You defend me with the sword and I will defend you with the pen." In effect, he placed at the disposal of the Emperor his intellectual gifts, which (if this story is true) must have been known to be considerable for this ploy to work.

How did William earn his intellectual reputation? Between leaving Oxford in 1320 and arriving in Avignon in 1324, he spent three years in a Franciscan monastery, writing prolifically. One of the topics he put his mind to was whether priests should be allowed to own property. Franciscans believed priests should live a life of poverty. This put them into conflict with Pope John XXII, so the summons to Avignon and condemnation may have had more to do with that question than his Oxford writings.

Besides challenging the Church's ideas about material wealth, he was also challenging the ideas of people like Thomas Aquinas that reason was sufficient to determine everything we needed to know about the world.

But that's a story for another day.