Louis, Eleanor, Annulment

King Louis VII of France had a problem. His clever and wealthy wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, was really getting on his nerves. On the Second Crusade, she contributed to a blunder that cost thousands of French lives, and they argued over whether to stay ion Antioch and help her uncle, Raymond of Poitiers, or go to Jerusalem. Louis also (according to Odo of Deuil, eyewitness to the Crusade) suspected her of an improper relationship with her uncle, although that may simply have been because the Aquitainian culture was far more emotional and expressive than the Capetians.

She had also not been able to deliver a son and heir, although after 13 years they had two daughters. With their relationship severely strained after the Crusade, Louis sought a way out of the marriage. For that, Louis turned to Beaugency, an important town at a crossing of the Loire.

Beaugency, coincidentally, had been the site where another royal marriage was a topic: in 1104, Philip was excommunicated by the first Council of Beaugency because he had put away his first wife, claiming se was too fat, so he could abduct and marry another man's wife. The Second Council of Beaugency was called in 1152 to find a way to get Louis out of his marriage to Eleanor. Abbot Suger had been an advocate of the marriage, but after his death in 1151, Bernard of Clairvaux's view that the two were too closely related became an issue.

Also in 1151, Henry, Count of Anjou, became the new Duke of Normandy and went to Paris to pay his respects to his liege lord, Louis. Historians such as Walter Map, Gerald of Wales, and William of Newburgh all suspected that something, some spark happened between the 18-year-old Henry (future king Henry II of England) and the 30-year-old Eleanor that also might have contributed to Eleanor wanting to be released from the marriage.

The archbishops of Reims, Bordeaux, and Rouen attended the Council, presided over by Archbishop Hugues of Orléans. Archbishop Samson of Reims represented Eleanor (who was there, as was Louis).

They settled on annulment on the grounds of consanguinity. Sure, they had a common ancestor, Robert II of France (c.972 - 1031), but that was a long way back and didn't prevent the marriage in the first place. But here they were, looking for a reason, and being third cousins once removed, however distant it seemed, was sufficient. The marriage was declared null and void. Eleanor did not object. Their two daughters were declared legitimate, since the couple had married in good faith. Louis gained custody of the daughters. Aquitaine would remain Eleanor's possession.

One would think that the attractive and wealthy Eleanor would be glad to be free from the stiff and monk-like Louis. She was, however, an attractive and wealthy woman, which in 1151 did not allow her independence and agency. Believe it or not, her life was in peril. I'll explain tomorrow.

William of Newburgh

William of Newburgh (c.1136 - c.1198) criticized Geoffrey of Monmouth for his inaccurate History of the Kings of Britain, but Newburgh's Historia rerum Anglicarum (“History of English Things/Events”) included a lot of unverified and unverifiable anecdotes. To be fair, he had to rely on other writers for events that took place prior to his lifetime; his chronicle starts in 1066.

He was quite useful at discussing The Anarchy in detail, and his chronicle gives a lot of insight to regular life in the 12th century. He is the only source for an event that happened in his lifetime: a bishop that became a pirate.

The 12th century in England had an interest—by no means unique to that time or place—in "revenants": animated corpses that haunted the living. I previously shared one of Newburgh's anecdotes in A Vampire at Melrose. Newburgh, who was a priest (an Augustinian canon), considered revenants a "warning to posterity" about living a spiritual life. To him, examples of revenants were so common that "were I to write down all the instances of this kind which I have ascertained to have befallen in our times, the undertaking would be beyond measure laborious and troublesome."

He acknowledges that these stories seem unlikely, but cannot bring himself to dismiss them:

It would not be easy to believe that the corpses of the dead should sally (I know not by what agency) from their graves, and should wander about to the terror or destruction of the living, and again return to the tomb, which of its own accord spontaneously opened to receive them, did not frequent examples, occurring in our own times, suffice to establish this fact, to the truth of which there is abundant testimony. [find the entire translated Historia here]

Another example offered by Newburgh is a criminal who flees York and marries a woman whose faithfulness he doubts. Hiding in the rafters of their house, he sees her with another man in their bed, but falls from the rafters, resulting in a fatal wound:

A Christian burial, indeed, he received, though unworthy of it; but it did not much benefit him: for issuing, by the handiwork of Satan, from his grave at night-time, and pursued by a pack of dogs with horrible barkings, he wandered through the courts and around the houses while all men made fast their doors, and did not dare to go abroad on any errand whatever from the beginning of the night until the sunrise, for fear of meeting and being beaten black and blue by this vagrant monster.

In fact, the revenant killed several people, whereupon the village decided to take action:

Thereupon snatching up a spade of but indifferent sharpness of edge, and hastening to the cemetery, they began to dig; and whilst they were thinking that they would have to dig to a greater depth, they suddenly, before much of the earth had been removed, laid bare the corpse, swollen to an enormous corpulence, with its countenance beyond measure turgid and suffused with blood; while the napkin in which it had been wrapped appeared nearly torn to pieces. The young men, however, spurred on by wrath, feared not, and inflicted a wound upon the senseless carcass, out of which incontinently flowed such a stream of blood, that it might have been taken for a leech filled with the blood of many persons. Then, dragging it beyond the village, they speedily constructed a funeral pile; and upon one of them saying that the pestilential body would not burn unless its heart were torn out, the other laid open its side by repeated blows of the blunted spade, and, thrusting in his hand, dragged out the accursed heart. This being torn piecemeal, and the body now consigned to the flames.

Newburgh doesn't seem to have tried to verify any of these stories, with any statement like "... and I heard this myself from one of the villagers who did the digging."

He was not the only person who recorded stories of revenants. Walter Map (mentioned in The Demonization of Cats post) relates more incidents.

I am hoping, though, that Newburgh 's account of a bishop who became a pirate—not referred to in any other known historical account—is true. I will check that out and report to you tomorrow. Until then...

The Demonization of Cats

Here is a description of a medieval cult:

At length, when the novice has come forward, [he] is met by a man of wondrous pallor, who has black eyes and is so emaciated [and] thin that since his flesh has been wasted, seems to have remaining only skin drawn over [his] bone. The novice kisses him and feels cold, [like] ice, and after the kiss the memory of the [C]atholic faith totally disappears from his heart. Afterwards, they sit down to a meal and when they have arisen from it, the certain statue, which is usual in a sect of this kind, a black cat descends backwards, with its tail erect. First the novice, next the master, then each one of the order who are worthy and perfect, kiss the cat on its buttocks. Then each [returns] to his place and, speaking certain responses, they incline their heads toward to cat. 

This is from a papal bull called Vox in Rama ["A Voice in Ramah"], issued by Pope Gregory IX somewhere from 1232 to 1234, condemning a German heresy. There is more, outlining the practices of this form of devil worship, requiring German authorities to root out and stop this practice, and kicking off a demonization of cats that caused them—especially black cats—to be killed in large numbers. This destruction of cats, and the subsequent increase in rodents population, enhanced the spread of the Black Death a little over a century later.

...and it is all very likely untrue.

Let us start with the Black Death: killing all the black cats—or even more cats—in Western Europe would not stop the spread of the Plague in India, China, Constantinople, etc. The earliest text we have of Vox in Rama is from an 1883 collection printed in Germany of Latin texts. It is possible that Gregory sent a letter to Germany that got collected here, but it does not sound like a typical papal bull. If his injunctions were applied at all, they may have been applied only locally in a very few areas.

Some even question whether it is a late forgery: Gregory was very erudite, and a lawyer. This document is very unlike any of his writings. It seems like a document created later to support a theory of devil worship.

This was not necessary to stain the reputation of cats, however. The 12th century English author Walter Map had already associated cats with witches who take feline form in De nugis curialium [Latin: "The trifles of courtiers"]. He relates many supernatural folktales.

Maybe the independent nature of cats bothered people, who felt that creatures were created by God to be subservient to man. Maybe the fact that Muslims liked cats—Muhammad speaks well of them—made cats seem pagan and suspicious. Some combination of circumstances singled out cats for vilification. We will probably never know for certain the underlying reason.

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.