The Disputation of Paris, Part One

This blog made a reference to the Disputation of Paris years ago, but never got around to any details. The Disputation was a debate between rabbis in France and a Franciscan friar, Nicholas Donin. How did it come about?

Donin had not always been a Franciscan, or even a Christian. He was a Jew who was excommunicated by Rabbi Yechiel of Paris. Why was he excommunicated? Donin followed Karaite Judaism, which taught that the only true commandments from God were the Torah, and that any additional oral law codified in the Talmud or Midrash was not authoritative. Rabbi Yechiel was a follower of Rabbinic Judaism, who studied and taught and enforced the Talmud.

After living ten years as an excommunicate, Nicholas Donin converted to Christianity and joined the Franciscan Order. Possibly to ingratiate himself to his new community, possibly to strike back at Rabbinic Judaism, he went through the Talmud and found 35 instances that were damaging to the reputations of Jesus and Mary and Christianity. Donin presented these to Pope Gregory IX in 1238. Gregory ordered that all copies of the Talmud were to be seized and examined by the authorities of the Church; if the allegations were found to be true, the Talmuds were to be burned.

Only France cared about the order. Louis IX ordered the four most prominent rabbis in France to dispute Donin's charges in public: Moses of Coucy, Judah of Melon, Samuel ben Solomon of Chateau-Thierry, ... and Rabbi Yechiel of Paris.

This is where Blanche of Castile (from yesterday's post) comes in. She guaranteed the safety of the rabbis, although there were limitations put on what they were allowed to say. The outcome was probably a foregone conclusion, with the copies of the Talmud at stake. I'll tell you what happened tomorrow.

Blanche of Castile

Blanche of Castile was born on 4 March, 1188, in Palencia in north-central Castile (Spain). Her father was King Alfonso VIII; her mother was Eleanor of England, a daughter of King Henry II. In her lifetime, an attempt to end the endless fighting between England and France over the Duchy of Normandy took place between John of England and Philip II of France. This was the Treaty of le Goulet, and it was sealed with a marriage between Blanche's sister, Urraca, and Philip's son Louis.

Eleanor of Aquitaine, however, decided that Blanche would be more suitable for the marriage. When Blanche was 12 years old, Eleanor took Blanche to France to make the marriage happen. Louis was only 13, and so the marriage would not be consummated until a few years later. Blanche bore her first child in 1205.

Because Blanche had English ancestry through her mother (more specifically, through her grandfather Henry II), her role in the alliance marriage was accepted, and Louis of France was agreed to as the future king of England. King John died in October 1216, however, whereupon his son, nine-year-old Henry, was supported by the barons, who then rejected the idea of Louis inheriting the throne.

Louis' father Philip Augustus refused to support him in another war with England. Blanche decided to raise money for a fleet to send against England to put Louis on the throne. She organized two fleets; neither succeeded, being soundly defeated by English forces.

She only enjoyed three years as Queen of France before Louis died in 1226, leaving Blanche regent for his  12-year-old son, Louis IX. Several French barons did not support the young king, but Blanche appealed to the townspeople of Paris to protect him, which they did. She was instrumental in creating the Treaty of Paris which recognized Louis as king.

She was a highly important figure during her life, never backing down from fighting for what was right (for her).

One event she created which was not for her direct benefit was deciding to treat Jews fairly. She arranged the Disputation of Paris, a debate between Christianity and Judaism, which I will look at tomorrow.

University of Paris - The Strike

I mentioned yesterday that Orleans University had its start in 1230 with teachers and students who fled from turmoil at the University of Paris. Time to explain the turmoil.

In March 1229, University of Paris students—normally boisterous and given to drinking heavily—were enjoying the pre-Lenten Mardi Gras-like atmosphere (it was Shrove Tuesday and the beginning of Lent). An argument broke out between a band of students and a tavern proprietor over the bill; a fight ensued, resulting in the students being beaten by the townspeople and tossed out.

The students returned the next day, Ash Wednesday, with friends and clubs. They trashed the tavern and beat the taverner. A riot started that damaged nearby shops. The students thought themselves free from punishment, because university students had benefit of clergy. The King's courts couldn't touch them, and the ecclesiastical courts tended to be protective of university students, who were all potential clergy.

The King of France at the time, Louis IX, was only 15 years old. The regent in charge of royal affairs decided the students' crime could not be allowed to go unpunished. The Paris city guard, not known to be gentle toward university students anyway, were given permission to mete out punishment. They found a group of students and killed several. There is no proof that the guardsmen had attacked the actual instigators of the original trouble.

The university went on strike. Teaching ceased. Students left, taking their spending money with them. The economy of Paris suffered. Students and teachers wound up in Reims, Oxford, Toulouse, and some went to Orleans and started teaching there.

In 1231, Pope Gregory IX (an alumnus!) issued a decree that the University of Paris was under papal patronage, making it independent of any local authority. Masters were allowed to cancel classes for almost any provocation; the threat of economic losses kept the city in line.

If the regent had not stepped in, who knows what would have happened? More rioting? Or just moving beyond the incident. No dispersal of university staff and students might have meant no university at Orleans or elsewhere? We will never know. But we do know who the regent was who caused that turning point: Blanche of Castile. I'll tell you about her tomorrow.

Orleans University

The city of Orleans is in north-central France, in the Loire Valley. In the very early Middle Ages it had been the capital of the Kingdom of Orleans, but under the Capetians (who ruled France from 987CE to 1328), it became merely part of a county. It regained a little prominence when King Louis IV held his coronation in Orleans Cathedral instead of in Reims. In the later Middle Ages, Orleans was one of France's three richest cities, along with Paris and Rouen.

The University of Orleans started in 1230, when several; teachers and students fled the turmoil taking place at the University of Paris. Pope Clement V (1264-1314) studied there, and as pope published a papal bull in 1306, endowing the scholarly pursuits there with the status of university. In all, twelve popes granted it privileges.

In the 1300s it had as many as 5000 students from France, Germany, and even Scotland. Eustache Deschamps was one. St. Ivo of Kemartin, the patron saint of lawyers, was another. Later notables were John Calvin, Pierre de Fermat (of Fermat's Last Theorem fame), and Molière.

The current University of Orleans was founded in 1960. The original had been merged with the University of Paris in 1808.

Speaking of the University of Paris, what was the turmoil that caused teachers and students to flee to Orleans and start teaching there? We'll get into that next time.

Eustache Deschamps

Somehow, in 770 posts on this blog, I never talked about Eustache Deschamps before. He was an extremely prolific poet who lived from 1346 until 1406/7. Born in northeast France, he studied under Guillaume de Machaut (about whom I have posted). Then, after studying law at Orleans University, he became a diplomatic messenger for King Charles V. He was granted other significant titles and duties during his life, including governor of the the commune Fisme.

Fisme suffered during the Hundred Years War between the English and French, and for this and other reasons Deschamps hated the English, using his poetry to express his feelings.

Deschamps wrote over 1100 ballades. To be fair, ballades were fairly short. The medieval ballade consisted of three eight-line stanzas with a repeating refrain. Most of them are satirical attacks on the English. He had praise for one Englishman though: he wrote one ballade praising Geoffrey Chaucer as a philosopher and poet. Chaucer, in turn, was inspired by Deschamp's one long poem, over 12,000 lines o the subject of women.

He also wrote a treatise on French poetry, in which he outlined the "rules" for different kinds of verse. He also shares his theory about music versus poetry. Music he considers "artificial" because anyone can learn it (it was a major course of study in universities), whereas poetry was "natural" because without being born with the talent for poetry, you would not be any good at it.

At least one line of his you might have heard. He wrote "Friends are relatives you make for yourself."

Next, I want to tell you a little about his university.

The Gittern

The 14th century French poet Eustache Deschamps said “at royal courts everyone wants to play the trumpet, gittern, and rebebe.” You know what a trumpet is. The rebebe was a bowed instrument. The gittern has been called:

"one of the most important plucked fingerboard instruments of the late medieval period. Loved by all levels of society, it was played by royal appointment, in religious service, in taverns, for singing, for dancing, and in duets with the lute." [link]

The naming of medieval musical instruments was very confusing, with different names for the same instrument and multiple instruments being called by the same name. It didn't help that the same instrument could be of varied construction.

The gittern could have anywhere from two to five gut strings, played with a plectrum made from a quill. It was shaped like a smaller lute with a pear-shaped body. The body and the neck were a single piece of wood, unlike many other stringed instruments.

The popularity of the gittern may have led to its scarcity now. When something is extremely common, it is not always valued properly. In consequence, despite its popularity, we have very few extant gitterns today. You can see one in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, there's one in the Wartburg Castle Museum in Eisenach, Germany. These were the only two known, until one was recognized in a medieval outhouse in Poland.

The image above is of a modern recreation from a maker of musical instruments. If you would like to hear a gittern being played, click here.

But who was Eustache Deschamps, who made such a bold statement about the gittern? I'll gladly talk about him tomorrow.

A Musician Beheaded

The Peasants Revolt of 1381 was an uprising against...let's say "government overreach." It was not a simple protest, however. The rebel crowds over the course of months murdered officials and damaged buildings, even burning some down, including the most magnificent house in London, the Savoy Palace, residence of the king's uncle, John of Gaunt.

Of course, there would be repercussions. Hundreds and hundreds were involved, but they could not all be identified and incarcerated. Principle actors, however, paid a heavy price. The chief name linked to the Revolt was that of Wat Tyler, who was struck down early on by the Mayor of London, Simon of Sudbury.

One of the few names on a list of those whose involvement was so egregious that they were to be beheaded was John Stakpull, or Stakepoll. Other than this, we really have no clues to the identity of this man; rather, we have some circumstantial clues.

An escheator record (an escheator is in charge of confiscating property on behalf of the Crown) lists the possessions of Stakpull that had been taken after his beheading. Here's the list, and the value of the items in shillings and pence:

1 red gown (3s.6d.)
1 cloak of red and green cloth (8s.)
3 hoods, 1 pair worn-out stockings (2s.6d.)
1 pair worn-out thigh-high boots (8d.)

1 overslop (covering for a chainmail headpiece) (18d.)
1 worn-out earthenware pot (6d.)
1 harp, 1 gittern (12d.)

The overslop is interesting, because it suggests that he had been a soldier. But then, lots of people had been soldiers. No, the curious items are the harp and gittern. These musical instruments, along with the very colorful garments, suggest that he was a minstrel. Could he have been the first protest singer, playing music to rally the rebels? We'll never know.

But let's go in a different direction. You might be assuming that the "gittern" is an old word for a guitar. Not quite. Let us talk about the gittern when next we meet.

The Peasants Are Revolting!

The Peasant's Revolt of 1381 was the result of several factors , first enumerated and named in A Short History of the English People (John Richard Green, 1874), and analyzed endlessly since. (You can find several posts I've made on this here.) Distrust of government, belief in corruption of royal officials, anxiety over the French raiding southern England, and a poll tax of 12 pence per adult—the third in four years—made the average rural citizen say "Enough!"

The first signs of rebellion came when collectors of the poll tax were attacked in spring. This was followed by more resistance by attacking justices in Essex in May, and then a June uprising in Essex promised to rebel against all the king's laws. People started burning property, and an escheator (official in charge of claiming property for the Crown when, for instance, the previous owner died intestate) was beheaded and his records burned. Elsewhere, houses of officials and official records were being destroyed.

A leader appeared in the records, one Wat Tyler, who led the rioters into Canterbury, executing officials and freeing prisoners, after which they approached London. The group was joined by a radical priest, John Ball, southeast of London. Meanwhile London was experiencing a sympathetic uprising of citizens who burned the grandest house in London, the Savoy Palace, and the main building of the Hospitallers.

The rebels outside London entered, invading the Tower of London. They captured and beheaded the Archbishop of Canterbury, Simon Sudbury, and others.

See my other posts for more detail, but let me say that most of the rebels were given pardons once the destruction stopped, except for the individuals who were responsible for more grievous destruction and murder. A list of "principle leaders and traitors" includes Walter Tyler (who had been killed earlier by the Mayor of London), Alan Threader, William Hawk, and John Stakpull. We know very little about John, but what we know leads to an interesting conjecture. I'll tell you about that next time.

Free vs. Unfree Peasants

A medieval peasant—for this term, we mean an agricultural laborer—could be free or unfree. Although serf would seem to be a useful term (deriving from Latin servus, "slave"), it doesn't appear in written records until the late 15th century. For the difference between free and unfree, I will use the terms freeman and villein.

A freeman was just that: a tenant who was free from owing service to the lord of the manor. He paid rent for the house and land. The percentage of freemen was small, maybe 10% in England.

The greater number of peasants on a manor were villeins, who also rented land and homes, but were obligated to spend time working the lord's fields as well. They were allowed to farm their own land as much or as little as they liked: they would at least try to be self-sufficient, but if they sold goods and made a profit, so much the better. The lord's permission was needed to leave the land and to marry.

Could a freeman become a villein? Imagine a drought or some other natural disaster that caused crop failure, or some destruction by criminals. The freeman could fall on hard times and be unable to pay rent, at which point he could make an arrangement to the lord of the manor, essentially indenturing himself for a period of time. During that time, defaulting on that deal by moving to another manor would be a bad idea.

Could a villein become a freeman? Well, he could run away; if he made his way to a city and survived for a year without being sought and caught, he was automatically free. That was a risky way. He could purchase his way out of bondage, by earning enough from his industry to pay off the lord. Here's the thing, though: when villeins made sufficient money to purchase their freedom, they didn't. The likeliest reason is that their unfree status entitled them to protections that. freeman did not have (see the above paragraph). Being unfree may seem like a burden, but it afforded security in ways that being a freeman did not.

This is not to say that peasants were content to "stay in their lane." In 1381, there was a significant revolt, which we'll talk about tomorrow.

Feudal Hierarchy

The phrases "feudal system" and "feudalism" were not used in the Middle Ages. They were coined in the 1700s by scholars describing economic systems. The Medieval Latin feodum (whose precise origin is unknown), it was used to refer to a grant of land one xchange for a service. Documents originally used the Latin beneficium, but for some reason that term started being replaced with feodum by the year 1000.

As societies grew more populated and government became less centralized, the feudal system enabled better management of land by "outsourcing" to trusted people. The trustee, or vassal, would pledge to fight for the lord who granted the land, using revenue from the land to furnish military equipment. Feudal customs varied from country to country, but the pledge of military support was common.

The primary vassal didn't work the land himself. A hierarchy evolved over time. Here are several positions of the economic/social strata that existed in English feudalism.

Lord Paramount, or Territorial Lord: the highest role in feudalism; the person who had no loyalty to anyone higher. In England, the king.

Tenant-in-chief: the person who holds his land from the king.

Mesne lord: a person who had vassals under him, but was in turn a vassal of a higher lord but not of the king.

Landed gentry/Gentleman: someone whose grant of land was sufficient to support him in comfort; this person might use the term esquire, but that was a courtesy title and conferred no special status.

Franklins & Yeomen: free men (not tied to the land by contract); they might be thought of as a middle class. Yeomen often were guards for the mesne lord or tenant-in-chief.

Free tenant/Husbandman: peasant farmers who worked the land and paid rent (and a percentage of goods) to the landholder.

Serf/Villein: peasant farmers who were essentially indentured to the landowner and legally forbidden to seek employment elsewhere.

So, if you had a choice to be a free tenant or an unfree serf, which do you think you would choose? There are some records from medieval England that may just shed some light on that topic, which I'll share with you tomorrow.

Legal Terms

I'll admit: I'm not a lawyer; I don't understand current legal terms (most of which are Latin holdovers from the Middle Ages). I'm fascinated, however, by the legal terms that were used centuries ago. Here's a list, some of which are still used (if not commonly known), that are dealt with in the Treatise of Glanvill.

Curia Regis: the King's court, including administrators and advisers for the king, replaced later when Parliament evolved.

eyre or iter or general eyre: the clue is in the Latin iter, in that this was an itinerary taken by a traveling judge who made a regular circuit to hear cases in different areas. We still use "circuit court."

essoin: an excuse for not appearing in court; the person who takes your excuse to the court on your behalf was the essoineur.

purpresture: we might call this "public nuisance" these days; you could be prosecuted for blocking a thoroughfare or encroaching on someone else's (especially the king's) property.

dower: not "dowry" which was a pre-marriage provision; dower was a provision made by a husband or family for a wife, giving her financial support should she be widowed. In the popular show Downton Abbey, Maggie Smith plays the "Dowager Duchess"; that is, she is a widow who is financially independent because her husband provided for her in the event of his death.

villeinage: the Treatise has an entire section on the rights and treatment of villeins, who were serfs tied to the land they worked; that is, unlike a freeman, they could not pick up and move to another estate to seek work.

In fact, villeinage is a good stopping point here, and a good jumping on point for tomorrow, where I'll give an overview of the strata in the feudal system.

Ranulph Glanvill

Ranulph de Glanvill is the reason I started dailymedieval.com, to pay some attention to the countless people, places, and paraphernalia of the Middle Ages that would never get any attention in the Modern Era, but were of course significant in their time. 

We don't know much now about his early life, except that he was born about 1112 at Stratford St. Andrew in Suffolk. His public activity is first noted as Sheriff of Yorkshire, Warwickshire and Leicestershire until he was removed from office in 1170 along with several other sheriffs for corruption.

Whatever his offense, it did not prevent his re-appointment as Sheriff of Lancashire by 1173, then Sheriff of Westmoreland in 1174. During the Battle of Alnwick in 1174, when William I of Scotland invaded Northumbria, Ranulph was the leader of an English force that met and captured William. King Henry II appreciated this, and later appointed Ranulph Chief Justiciar of England. This sounds like he was made "Chief Justice," but that is not the case. The Chief Justiciar had authority comparable to the modern Prime Minister, as the monarch's chief minister.

As Henry's right-hand man, he was effectively the regent when Henry was absent from the kingdom. He was also entrusted to custody of Eleanor of Aquitaine, when Henry saw fit to confine his queen to Winchester Castle. (There were good reasons for this, which we will someday get to.)

After Henry's death, Richard I imprisoned him until he paid a ransom. Why? A possible reason is that Richard just wanted to raise money to continue his favorite pastimes: fighting and Crusading. Ranulph went on Crusade and died in 1190 at the Siege of Acre. Considering his age, I would not be surprised if Richard coerced Ranulph into "taking the cross."

During his lifetime, he founded two abbeys and a leper hospital. Of course, he also produced the Treatise of Glanvill, discussed in the previous post. Next time, we'll look at some of the medieval legal terms addressed and codified on the Treatise.

Treatise of Glanvill

The Treatise of Glanvill was the earliest comprehensive treatise on English Law. It's full name is Tractatus de legibus et consuetudinibus regni Angliae ("Treatise on the Laws and Customs of the Kingdom of England"), produced in .

Prior to this, England was managed by a blend of Anglo-Saxon laws and Norman laws. The Treatise codified the laws that were considered most useful, and introduced the innovation of writs.

Writs had existed in Anglo-Saxon law as a brief administrative order—usually a land grant or instructions to a local court—attested to by a seal. After the Norman Invasion, William had writs produced in Latin (rather than Anglo-Saxon), and increased their use to cover more parts of the increasingly complex administrative purview. Henry expanded the use of writs to cover instances of individuals seeking justice. He would hear grievances as his court traveled around the country and have his decisions codified in writs.

One result of this use of writs was limiting the jurisdiction of local courts: a writ from the king superseded all others, except for ecclesiastical courts. Ecclesiastical courts managed decisions regarding marriage, legitimacy, wills, and ecclesiastical issues. Henry seemed to be more focused on any decisions relating to property ownership.

So why was it colloquially called the Treaty of Glanvill? Henry liked to pick capable men to implement his ideas, and Ranulph Glanvill was one of those. I'll tell you about his career tomorrow.

Regarding Henry

Henry II was king of England from 1154 (when he was 21) until his death in 1189. His mother, Matilda, fought to get the throne of England away from Stephen of Blois, a grandson of William the Conqueror, and arranged what was essentially a military coup that was resolved with a peace treaty in 1153 that agreed to let Henry inherit when Stephen died—which Stephen obligingly did a year later.

Henry was a king of England who did not speak English: he spoke only Latin and French. During his reign, Henry ruled much of England, gained control over Wales, and held substantial land on the continent. He had been named Duke of Normandy (in northwest France) in 1150, and became Duke of Aquitaine (in southwest France) in 1152 upon his marriage to Eleanor of Aquitaine. He also had occasional control over Scotland and Brittany.

He was described as a short, stocky, good-looking redhead, bow-legged from all the horseback riding. He was reported to have great energy, which he applied to (among other things) reforming/standardizing royal law, where previously there had been several variations due to local tradition. His reign resulted in the first comprehensive treatise on English law, the Treatise of Glanvill, which is worth taking a look at...next time.

Arthur's Grave

In 1184, Glastonbury Abbey was devastated by a fire in the monastic buildings. A new Lady Chapel was consecrated in 1186, after which progress slowed down. Pilgrimages—and the donations they bring—had fallen off.

In 1191, however, an excavation on the grounds was undertaken, inspired by (we are told) information passed onto King Henry II from "an aged British bard." The excavation turned up a large flat stone. On the underside of the stone a leaden cross was attached. When the cross was detached, on the side facing the stone they found letters proclaiming Hic jacet sepultus inclitus Rex Arturius in insula Avallonia ["Here lies buried famous King Arthur on the Isle of Avalon"]. Several feet below this was found a large coffin made from oak containing a very large set of bones, along with a smaller set. These were understood to be Arthur and Guinevere.

Well, pilgrimages soared, of course. The relics and lead cross were put in the church; a few eyewitnesses mention them, but they are long vanished now. So...what was it about? Does anyone today really believe that King Arthur's bones were found under Glastonbury? If the king were involved, what was his return on the investment?

Arthur was considered a national hero, and legend said he would return in time of the nation's need. Henry wasn't British: he was the current monarch resulting from the Norman Conquest of Britain. He didn't even speak English. Some have suggested that his involvement was to discourage Welsh nationalism by showing that their legendary king was truly dead and would never return. I believed this for awhile, until I noticed the dates involved.

That idea doesn't quite fit history. The story that Henry had the clue to finding the body comes from Gerald of Wales, a historian writing a few years after the discovery. Interestingly, Henry had died two years prior to the excavation, so Gerald's suggestion that Henry got his information from that anonymous British bard seems spurious to me. It is more likely that the Abbey itself arranged this to increase attention and income.

Henry was a fascinating character in his own right, however, and worth looking at next time.

Glastonbury Abbey

Glastonbury Abbey in Somerset may be the best-known of English abbeys. Originally founded in 712 with the construction of a stone church, it has been rebuilt and expanded many times. One of the expansions was under Dunstan (mentioned here) when he reformed it, expelled all the monks he considered unfit, and instituted the Rule of St. Benedict. It became an important site: King Edmund I was buried there, and an important charter of King Cnut's was disseminated from there.

Legend claims that an abbey was founded there in the 1st centuryCE by Joseph of Arimathea, the New Testament figure who provided the tomb for Jesus. This legend was described by Robert de Boron, a French poet of the late 12th century. His claim was that Joseph brought to Glastonbury 12 disciples as well as the Holy Grail containing drops of Jesus' blood, collected as he suffered on the cross.

For these and other reasons, Glastonbury became prominent as a pilgrimage site and a political power. A fire in 1184 destroyed the monastic buildings. Not wanting for money, reconstruction began right away, but the building of a large church and many buildings takes time. Pilgrimages—and the donations they bring—declined. In 1191, however, a discovery took place during excavation that would bring attention to Glastonbury once again, and shed light on an age-old legend.

But that's a story for tomorrow.

Elf Shot

Speaking of ailments caused by elves and other supernatural beings, "elf shot" was a concern in the Middle Ages, caused by invisible arrows shot by invisible elves causing sudden shooting pains. I am old enough to have experienced sudden sharp pains in limbs or my side, and I always assume it is simply the ravages of aging, or one of Hamlet's "thousand natural ills that flesh is heir to."

The Middle Ages understood enough about cause and effect to want to ascribe these pains to an external cause, and capricious and malicious elves was the best option. The Old English word aelfsogoða was used to describe internal pain from jaundice, and meant hiccups, also thought to be caused by elves.

The notion of "shot" was supported by archeological evidence; that is, folk in the Middle Ages occasionally found flint arrowheads left over from their neolithic ancestors. These were "evidence" of elf arrows. Dolled up and turned into amulets (see photo), they were worn as charms against witchcraft.

The cure was the concoction described in yesterday's post: feverfew, red nettles, way bread (European plantain); their vaguely spear-shaped leaves would make them suitable to counter an arrow wound.

Concerns about elf shot persisted. A report in 1884 from Orkney attributes the death of a cow from "her heart was riddled with fairy shot."

Going back a couple days...I mentioned St. Æthelwold's time spent at Glastonbury Abbey. It's a fascinating place, and will be the next topic.

Against a Sudden Stabbing Pain

I want to talk about Wið færstice, an Old English medical text whose title is pronounced (roughly) "with fair-stitch-uh" and means "against a sudden/violent stabbing pain." It is a charm meant to be recited along with the use of a potion to cure a certain kind of pain. The potion was made of feverfew, red nettle, and waybread (plantain). Boil them together, and then boil the result in butter. A knife was dipped into the potion and then applied to the pain.

The 'stice' part of the name of the charm is related to modern "stitch" when we refer to a sudden sharp pain in the side. Scholars do not know if there was a particular cause for the pain; rheumatism or lumbago have been suggested, but in my opinion it was more likely to be what it was called: a sudden sharp pain, the kind that seems to have no particular trigger.

The creators of the text guessed at the source of the pain, and claimed their remedy would help in several cases, according to these lines from the charm.

This for you as a remedy for the shot/pain of ēse;
this for you as a remedy for the shot/pain of ælfe,
this for you as a remedy for the shot/pain of hægtessan; I will help you.

ēse refers to the Æsir, the Norse gods; ælfe refers to elves; hægtessan refers to witches. The Wið færstice was supposedly good for pain caused by any of these supernatural sources. Whether it worked for anyone, we'll never know.

Another term for a sudden stabbing pain with no visible source was "elf shot," which I'll talk more about tomorrow.

The Elf Village

I mentioned previously that St. Æthelwold had a single church dedicated to him in England. It is in Alvingham, in the East Lindsey district of Lincolnshire. Alvingham is old enough to have been listed in the Domesday Book, a record of all towns and territories in England made in 1086, 20 years after the Norman Conquest. In the Book, it is called Aluingeham, which means "Home of the Ælfingas." Ælfingas means "the tribe of Ælf," and ælf means "elf."

Ælf or elf can be found used throughout Germanic languages, and is commonly the first element in a name. Many of those can be found throughout this blog. Some common medieval names incorporating a prefix for "elf" were:

Ælfric - "elf-powerful"
Alfred - "elf-advice"

Alphege - "elf-tall" (mentioned recently)

...and Germanic examples such as Alberich, Alphart, Alphere, Alboin. 

The word also appeared in place-names, such as Alvingham, Elveden ("Elves Hill"), and the Alden Valley, "Valley of Elves." The frequency of usage shows that elves were very much embedded in the culture of Western and Northern Europe.

The earliest references to elves, in fact, were from Old English medical texts. Elves were considered a source of illness in livestock and humans. Mental disorders and sudden sharp pains, for instance, were usually attributed to elves. Tomorrow I'll go into a little more detail, and take a look at an Old English text that dealt with the pain caused by elves.

St. Æthelwold's Miracles

Æthelwold, one of the Three English Holy Hierarchs, saintly figures who spurred the revival of monasticism in England, was a truly saintly man. We know a lot about him from a surviving biography written by Wulfstan the Cantor.

He rebuilt or built many monasteries, including in Milton Abbas in Dorset, Chertsey in Surrey, Peterborough, and Ely. He reformed existing monasteries, driving out undisciplined monks and introducing the Rule of St. Benedict. His severity gives us the first example of miraculous events surrounding him: it is said that some monks who disliked his heavy hand put poison in his food, but he showed no signs of illness whatsoever. Speaking of food, while in Glastonbury, one of the duties he gave himself was cooking. One time, he resolved a scarcity of meat by praying, leading to a miraculous increase in the provisions.

Wulstan reports that he recovered unnaturally quickly from broken ribs after a fall from some scaffolding. Near the end of his life he was gravely ill, but bore his suffering patiently. After his death, on 1 August 984, miracles started taking place near his final resting place, and in response to prayers made to him for aid. A blind man from Wallingford was healed through prayers to St. Æthelwold.

His relics were then taken to the Cathedral in Winchester to signify their (and his) importance. Later, Abingdon Abbey received a finger, some hair, and arm, and his shoulder bone.

There is a single church dedicated to Æthelwold; it is St. Adelwold in Lincolnshire, in what would be fair to call an Elf village. I'll explain that tomorrow.

St. Æthelwold

Æthelwold was born about 910CE to a wealthy Winchester family. He served at the court of King Æthelstan (reigned 924-939), learning as much as he can and yearning toward a religious life. He and his friend Dunstan were ordained about 939 by the Bishop of Winchester, St. Alphege. Æthelwold and Dunstan went to the monastery in Glastonbury in Somerset about 940, where Dunstan was made abbot

At this time, Danish incursions into England had sacked and destroyed many monasteries. Monastic life in England was at a low point. Dunstan, who like Æthelwold was later made a saint, adopted the Rule of St. Benedict (mentioned a few times) for the Glastonbury monastery, and led the revival of monasticism in England. Dunstan, Æthelwold, and Oswald of Worcester and York would be called the "Three English Holy Hierarchs" for their work in reviving English Orthodox monasticism.

Æthelwold wanted to go to Cluny in France to experience their version of monasticism, but Dunstan and then-King Edred did not want to lose him, and they sent him to Abingdon-on-Thames to run the derelict monastery there. The patron saint of the place was St. Helena, because legend had it that she built a church there.

Abingdon became a strong monastic community. Æthelwold brought singers from Corbie in France to teach Gregorian chant, which was not common at the time in England.

When Æthelwold became Bishop of Winchester in 963, the priests were illiterate, lazy, guilty of drunkenness and gluttony; they were not good at the services, and most were married men. Æthelwold expelled the married men, tightened up discipline, and brought in monks from Abingdon as the nucleus of a new "monastery/cathedral" institution.

I'll say a little more about him tomorrow, including about the miracles attributed to him.

Wulfstan the Cantor

Of the countless people who lived in the Middle Ages and accomplished things—writing, building, etc.—a very few are remembered by name. One of them is Wulfstan, known as Wulfstan of Winchester or Wulfstan the Cantor.

A cantor sings liturgical music. The monk Wulfstan was a cantor of the Old Minster in Winchester, who became a precentor. A precentor is responsible for composing liturgical music himself, training the choir, and leading the choir or congregation in the music, singing solo lines to which they respond. He was a poet as well as a musician, and wrote a biography of St. Æthelwold, who was probably his mentor. He wrote several works, making him one of the most prolific Latin authors pre-Norman Conquest.

A 15th century commentary refers four times to a "Wulstan" and his work on musical theory, De tonorum harmonia ("On the harmony of tones"). It is likely that this reference is to Wulfstan; unfortunately, this work of Wulfstan's no longer exists. It would be the only known work on music written by an Anglo-Saxon. He is also responsible for the longest (3386 lines) Anglo-Latin poem extant, the Narratio metrica de S. Swithuno (A metrical narrative of St. Swithin).

The work for which he is best know, however, is the Vita S. Æthelwoldi (The life of St. Æthelwold), the principal source of information on St. Æthelwold, about whom I think we should talk next.

The Winchester Troper

When priests and monks prayed the Canonical Hours, praising God through hymns was considered an important part of the experience. We are fortunate to have a thousand-year-old manuscript that holds many examples of the music used at such times.

A trope is a theme or motif, and the Winchester Troper was named that because it includes different musical styles or motifs. The Winchester Trooper actually refers to two manuscripts of liturgical plainchant and polyphony, although the two manuscripts are not exactly connected; that is, they are not two parts of the same collection, just two manuscripts of the same type of music.

The music is in two forms: liturgical plainchant and two-voice polyphony. Plainchant (or plainsong) is simply a collection of chants used in the Western European Catholic Church, in which all singers follow the same tune. It was the primary type of Christian liturgical music until the development of polyphony in the 9th century, when two or more singers would harmonize. The Winchester Troper's examples of polyphony are for two voices.

As usual with many early manuscripts, authorship is unknown. A person once connected with scribing the Troper, but now determined to have been dead by the time the Troper was put together, was a character called Wulfstan the Cantor. I'll tell you more about him tomorrow.

If you would like to hear a sample of music from the Winchester Troper, click here.

Canonical Hours

Canonical Hours were fixed times during the day for prayers. The Bible was the source for planning multiple times during the day for prayer. In Exodus, God required sacrifice of animals in the morning and the evening; these sacrifices evolved into set times for prayer. Psalm 119 states (line 164) "Seven times a day I praise you for your righteous laws" and line 62 says "At midnight I rise to praise you."

The prayers for the Canonical Hours were mostly from Psalms, but there were also humans and other Bible verses. Over time, the specific passages became more regulated, requiring a system for keeping them straight and making sure that everyone was following the same script.

Saint Benedict of Nursia founded communities of monks, and produced the Rule of St. Benedict for them to follow. By that time (the Rule was written in 516), the Hours consisted of seven daytime prayers and one nighttime prayer. (Very few people outside of monasteries were determined to get out of bed to pray.) The Breviary (from Latin breviarium, "summary") was created to combine Psalms, the schedule for each day, the hymns needed, etc. Breviaries were copied and shared with other monastic communities.

When Pope Innocent III learned of breviaries, he adopted them for non-monastic priests as well. They and the daily prayers are still adhered to today, although there are now various forms.

I mentioned hymns, and I think it would be interesting to discuss (and listen to) some of the music used as part of the Canonical Hours.

Tide Dials

The Bewcastle Cross has what is considered the earliest surviving English sundial. It is actually a "tide dial." The "tide" part of the name comes from the Old English tīd, used to refer to hours, specifically canonical hours. The canonical hours are the specific times of day that require prayer. These times of prayer are also called "offices" or "divine offices," because they are an official set of prayers. The shift from "tide" to "hours" came after the Norman Conquest in 1066, when the Norman French hour replaced the Old English term.

So the tide dial shows the specific times when prayers are encouraged (but may also display hours of the day).

This is not to say that they did not recognize additional segments of the day. If you look at the illustration, you will see the words Prime, Tierce, Sexte, Nones. These refer to the First, Third, Sixth, and Ninth hours of the day. Prime was the first hour of daylight, so sunrise, and the time for the first set of prayers. The next set of prayers did not have to take place until the Third hour after that; three hours later, Sexte prayers took place, followed by Nones and finally Vespers, or evening prayers.

Because the length of time between sunrise and sunset varies throughout the year, the time between prayers was not precisely 180 minutes. With more regular timekeeping, fixed hours were designed for these times. Tomorrow I'll show you the canonical hours that are still used today.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tide_dial#Bewcastle_Cross

The Bewcastle Cross

The Bewcastle Cross is one of two stone monuments from the same era with similar iconography. Standing 14.5 feet high (it would be higher, but the actual cross top has broken off), it dates from the 7th or early 8th century, like the Ruthwell Cross (see the previous post).

Also like the Ruthwell Cross, it is covered with fine carving, Christian symbols, and runic inscriptions.

Images include John the Baptist holding a lamb, and Christ with a halo being held up by two beasts, similar to Christ being recognized as dominant over beasts on the Ruthwell Cross.

One difference from Ruthwell is that we have some idea of who made the Bewcastle Cross. A heavily weathered inscription has been interpreted by some to say "This slender pillar Hwætred, Wæthgar, and Alwfwold set up in memory of Alcfrith, a king and son of Oswiu. Pray for their sins, their souls". This may refer to Egfrid, who was king of Northumbria from 670 until 685. Presumably this dates the pillar to after 685.

One feature of the Cross that distinguishes it from Ruthwell is the earliest known English sundial. We will delve into that tomorrow.

The Ruthwell Cross

In a part of southwest Scotland that used to be in Northumberland stands a stone cross 18 feet high, the Ruthwell Cross, carved with runic inscriptions and Christian imagery. Anglo-Saxon runes on a work of Christian art are highly unusual, but these runic inscriptions are also significant for their link to poetry.

Some of the runes are lines from the Anglo-Saxon poem The Dream of the Rood, giving us an opportunity to date the poem. The cross dates from the 8th century, which lets us know that the poem must have been well-known enough by then to be considered appropriate for carving.

Sadly, it was smashed in 1642 by Presbyterian iconoclasts. Fortunately, after smashing it, the destroyers left the pieces lying there, enabling a Scottish minister to re-assemble it 1818. Weathering and the destruction has obscured the carvings a little.

Besides traditional vine-scroll designs of leaves and birds, scenes show Mary Magdalene washing Christ's feet, Christ having dominion over the animals, Saints Paul and Anthony breaking bread in the desert (that one has a carved inscription that makes it clear), the healing of a blind man from the Gospels, and more.

The Ruthwell Cross is not completely unique, in the sense that there is another "cross" of similar vintage and style. We will talk about that next.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ruthwell_Cross#Runic_inscription

https://www.bl.uk/collection-items/ruthwell-cross

The Dream of the Rood

The imagery of the cross on which Jesus was crucified is common in religious writings. It even made its way into an Old English poem.

The Dream of the Rood, like many Anglo-Saxon poems, is unsigned, and exists in a single copy, found in the Vercelli Book. The Vercelli Book is one of only four known collections of Old English poetry, most of whose entries are anonymous. It was discovered in 1822 in the city of Vercelli Library in Italy.

In the poem, the poet dreams in vivid imagery of a tree and the rood/cross. ("Rood" is from the Old English rōd meaning "pole" and is usually used to mean the crucifix.) He imagines a bejeweled cross that transforms into the plain wooden crucifix representing Christ's suffering. The cutting down and cutting up of the tree to make a rood is compared to the suffering of Christ. The rood itself speaks in the dream, telling how it received the body of Christ, saw his suffering, then was cut down and buried, only to be dug up and adorned with gems.

This story seems to be tied to the idea that Helena dug up the True Cross. Coincidentally, the Vercelli Book includes a poem, Elene, which tells the same story.

The date of them poem isn't certain, but there is a carved stone cross, the Ruthwell Cross, on which are inscribed lines reminiscent of several lines from the poem. The Ruthwell Cross was erected in the 8th century. If the lines were not carved at a later date than the creation of the Cross, then we know the poem was around prior to that, and known to people.

We should probably take a closer look at the Ruthwell Cross next. In the meantime, if you wish to read the poem (in Modern English, that is), here's a link.

The True Cross—Found!

Empress Helena of Constantinople went to Palestine from 326-328CE to find Christian relics, consistent with her recent conversion to Christianity. Among other acts, she tore down a temple built by Emperor Hadrian in the 130s. Excavating under it, she found three wooden crosses.

As excited as she may have been to find three crosses, Helena wanted absolute proof of their authenticity. She tested the crosses by having a dying woman brought to the site, having her touch the crosses. Touching the first two produced no change in her condition, but touching the third cross resulted in a sudden recovery. This provided Helena the proof she wanted, and she declared the third cross the True Cross, used to crucify Jesus Christ.

On the site was built the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, a version of which exists today.

This story of the dying woman comes down to us from a monk Rufinus (344-411CE), who was a translator of Greek Christian writings into Latin. He tacks this story onto his translation of an Ecclesiastical History by Eusebius. Strictly speaking, there is no contemporary account of this. Eusebius, who died in 339CE and was therefore a contemporary of Helena, wrote a Life of Constantine (Helena's emperor son) in which he mentions the destruction of Hadrian's temple and the construction of the church on the site, but does not mention anything about the finding of the True Cross.

Nevertheless, many later records purporting to be accurate histories of the finding tell variations of the above story. Relics of the True Cross were spread all over Christendom, and even inspired a well-known Old English poem. I'll tell you about it tomorrow.

Empress Helena of Constantinople

 Helena was a common name for Greek females all over the Mediterranean. One Helena, born to a lower-class family c.246CE, became anything but common in her lifetime. We know hardly anything of her origins and early life. Geoffrey of Monmouth's tale that she was a British princess and the daughter of "Old King Cole" is one of the more colorful theories.

Her lowly origins, even if they were known at the time, were glossed over after she became linked to Emperor Constantius Chlorus, either as his wife or concubine. Their son, Constantine I, was the first emperor to stop the harassment of Christians. His Edict of Milan in 313 stated that Christians—and, in fact, all religions—should be allowed to practice their faith openly. Constantine later in life declared himself a Christian, although he did not get baptized until he was on his deathbed.

Helena converted to Christianity after her son became emperor in 306. Constantine gave Helena the title of Augusta Imperatrix, a very high honor, and with it gave her an unlimited budget to find and retrieve Christian relics. She undertook a pilgrimage to Palestine where she built churches.

Various sites in the area had been identified as being significant to Christians. Supposedly, Helena built the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem at the site of Christ's birth, and the Church of Eleona on the Mount of Olives, from which Christ ascended to Heaven. There was already a temple on the site of Jesus' tomb, built after 130 by the Emperor Hadrian dedicated to Venus (or Jupiter).

Helena had this temple torn down, and began excavating. What happened next is a story for tomorrow.

The True Cross

 The "True Cross" refers to the cross upon which Jesus of Nazareth was crucified. Although it would have been of ordinary wood, Classical and Medieval and Renaissance legends decided it had to be something more than that.

The Golden Legend by Jacob de Voragine has several different origin stories for the wood of the Cross. In one, the Cross was made from the wood of three trees which grew from three seeds that had been planted by Seth in the mouth of his father's, Adam's, corpse. Seth had taken the seeds from the "Tree of Mercy" (which is not part of the Biblical story).

Another version related by Voragine explains that the wood came from a cutting from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, also planted by Seth on Adam's grave.

From either of these origins, an elaborate provenance was created to get the wood from Eden to Golgotha. The wood was made into the rod of Moses, which was planted by King David in Jerusalem, from which grew a tree that enabled Solomon to carve a beam for his temple. Eventually, the tree was cut down for wood that was used to build a bridge used by the Queen of Sheba to visit Solomon. The Queen had a vision that a piece of wood from the bridge would lead to the replacing of God's covenant with the Jews (this would be Jesus and his message). Solomon, thinking this a tragedy, had the wood buried. It was exhumed years later and some was used to make the True Cross.

How did it come to be discovered after the crucifixion? For that, we must talk about a remarkable woman, the Empress Helena of Constantinople, which we will do next.

The Battle of Hattin

 The Horns of Hattin is an extinct volcano whose twin peaks overlook Hattin in the Lower Galilee. In 1187, a battle took place between the forces of Saladin and Crusaders that was devastating for the Crusaders.

At the time, there were many Western European forces in the Middle East, due to the Second Crusade, and Jerusalem was in Christian hands, with Guy of Lusignan currently the King of Jerusalem. Still, the desire was to have the entirety of the Holy land under Christian control, which meant further conflict. Likewise, Muslim forces wanted the Christians to withdraw.

Saladin controlled much of the territory surrounding the Crusader forces and promised his people that he would drive the Christians from Jerusalem. Saladin had made a private treaty with the Franks in 1185 to give them Jerusalem if the Crusaders would stop waging further battles. There was peace until 1187 when a Muslim caravan was raided by Raynald of Châtillon. Saladin swore he would kill Raynald and sent a force to raid an area held by the Franks. The Templars lost about 150 knights and 300 foot soldiers in this battle (the Battle of Cresson), which was a severe blow to Frankish morale.

Guy was advised to move against Saladin, and on 3 July 1187, his forces started marching towards the Sea of Galilee (known at the time as Lake Tiberias). They were harried constantly nay Muslim archers, and along the way found little fresh water to replenish their supplies. The Muslim forces prevented them from reaching Lake Tiberias and fresh water, and set fires to the dry grass to annoy the Franks further with smoke and heat.

Three times the Frankish forces charged Saladin's, and three times they were beaten back, the third time being definitive. Many European nobles were taken captive that day. Guy of Lusignan and Raynauld of Châtillon were taken to Saladin. Saladin offered water to Guy, a sign that Guy would be treated well; Guy offered the water to Raynauld, but Saladin slapped it from his hand, charging Raynauld with breaking the truce. Raynauld was executed.

Guy of Lusignan was taken to Damascus as a prisoner (released in 1188). Two-hundred Templars and Hospitallers were beheaded, as were many others. A piece of the True Cross was taken from the Crusaders and sent to Damascus, about which I will have more to say next time.

Pelagio Galvani

 Cardinal Pelagio Galvani (c.1165 - 30 January 1230) was the papal legate leading the Fifth Crusade. He hailed from the Kingdom of León, and became a canon lawyer. Pelagio was not a tolerant man: on a two-year mission to Constantinople, he tried to close Greek Orthodox churches and imprison their priests, and action that created so much chaos that the Martin Emperor of Constantinople, Henry of Flanders, reversed Pelagio's acts.

Crusades needed religious leaders as well as military ones, and Pelagio was sent to lead the Fifth Crusade by Pope Honorius III (Pope Innocent II, who had called for the Crusade, had died July 1216, before the Crusade had started out).

During the Siege of Damietta, while the Crusading army made some inroads in to Egypt, intending to use it as a staging area from which to conquer Jerusalem (see yesterday's post), the sultan al-Kamil made a peace offering: he would ensure the handover of the Kingdom of Jerusalem to the Crusaders, if they would depart completely from Egypt.

Given the main goal of the Crusades—to control Jerusalem—this would seem to be a win-win, and the secular leaders wanted to accept it. Pelagio, however, along with the Templars, the Hospitallers, and the Venetians, wanted to keep what they had taken. The Templars and Hospitallers would have shared Pelagio's religious reasons for converting the whole world to Christianity. In the case of the Venetians, I suspect they were more interested in the value of Damietta and the Nile as trade routes for their merchant fleets.

The Siege continued to attack Damietta under Pelagio's orders, and a further deal was offered by al-Kamil: this time he included to release any prisoners they had taken and to return the piece of the True Cross that had come into Muslim hands. Pelagio turned this and subsequent offers. Despite arrivals of more Crusader forces, the western army never gained a permanent foothold in Egypt. Finally, on 28 August, even Pelagio realized the Egyptian route was a lost cause. A nighttime attempt to use a canal to make further progress into Egypt on 26 August 1221 resulted in disaster for the Crusaders when the Egyptians detected them and attacked. The defeat was so demoralizing that even Pelagio decided to admit defeat. Two days later, he sent an envoy to al-Kamil. On 8 September 1221, the Crusading army left Egypt, abandoning the Fifth Crusade, having never come close to Jerusalem.

But how is it that sultan al-Kamil had a piece of the True Cross to offer? He got it at the Battle of Hattin, which I'll tell you about tomorrow.

The Fifth Crusade

Were the Crusades successful? If the objective as stated was to put Jerusalem under Christian rule and maintain that rule, then the Crusades were a failure. Some of them never even made it to Jerusalem.

The Fifth Crusade was called by Pope Innocent III during the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215, intending it to start in 1217. It lasted until 1221, but although it was carefully organized and well-staffed, its strategy was flawed.

To be fair, the strategy seemed like a good idea at the time: sail to Egypt and attack, conquering what they believed to be an easier Muslim-controlled target. The Crusaders could then use Egypt as a staging area to attack the Holy Land. To make a long story short, the first of the Crusading fleet reached the Nile harbor town of Damietta on 27 May, 1218, and waited a few days for others to catch up. (It was not unusual that storms separated the ships, and so they did not all arrive simultaneously.) The most dynamic defender of that part of the world, Saladin, had died in 1193; his brother al-Adil took up the role of defender. al-Adil preferred to manage non-Muslims with treaties rather than jihad, and was disappointed in the Crusaders' next action.

The Siege of Damietta began on 23 June, but the town of Damietta had strong stone walls and a large stone tower that secured a chain across the mouth of the harbor to defend against ships. The first assault failed when scaling ladders collapsed and the town defended itself with a barrage of stones. The next day, however, the main tower was breached, the chain was cut, and ships could enter the Nile. al-Adil's son, al-Kamil, scuttled several ships upriver from the mouth of the Nile, preventing the Crusader ships from sailing further.

The Crusaders then built a floating fortress to use on the river, but a storm on 9 November blew it toward the Egyptian camp, whereupon the Egyptians overtook it and slaughtered all but two Crusaders. The two survivors were executed by the Crusade leaders for cowardice, having managed to escape the assault.

At this point, al-Adil's sons, al-Kamil and al-Mu'azzam, made an offer: we will give up Jerusalem to you (with two small exceptions) if you evacuate Egypt. You would think this was a direct route to their goal, but something—or rather someone—stood in the way. I will address that next.

The Holy Land Decrees

Desiring with an ardent desire to liberate the Holy Land from the hands of the ungodly, we decree with the advice of prudent men who are fully familiar with the circumstances of the times, and with the approval of the council, that all who have taken the cross and have decided to cross the sea, hold themselves so prepared that they may, on June 1 of the year after next (1217), come together in the Kingdom of Sicily, some at Brundusium and others at Messana, where, God willing, we (the Pope) will be present personally to order and to bestow on the Christian army the divine and Apostolic blessing. [link, bottom of the page]

Thus begins the Holy Land Decrees at the end of the Canons of the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215. Pope Innocent was extremely motivated to call for a Crusade, not only because he was the pope, and restoring Jerusalem to Christian rule was important to him, but also because of the disaster that was the Fourth Crusade that got sidetracked and ransacked Constantinople in 1204. The Crusade effort needed to be carefully organized to avoid that outcome. The Decree continues:

Moreover, that nothing connected with the affairs of our Lord Jesus Christ be omitted, we wish and command that patriarchs, archbishops, bishops, abbots, and others who have the care of souls, diligently explain the meaning of the crusade to those committed to them...

The Council wanted to make sure the Crusaders were absolutely committed to the goal, in order to prevent being sidetracked. The Decree went a little further, and you have to give them credit for thinking ahead. Getting to the Holy Land from Europe meant going by water (an overland march would take many months), and travel by water had its own dangers:

Since the corsairs and pirates too vehemently impede assistance to the Holy Land by capturing and robbing those who go there and those returning, we excommunicate them and their principal abetters and protectors, 

...and because no one wants any global distractions:

But, since for the success of this undertaking it is above all else necessary that princes and Christian people maintain peace among themselves, we decree with the advice of the holy council that for four years peace be observed in the whole Christian world,

So...with all this preparation, why does the graphic above show no Crusade taking place in 1217? What happened to the Fifth Crusade? See you tomorrow.

Jews and the Fourth Lateran

The Roman Catholic Church of the Middle Ages did not invent persecution of the Jews, but it worked hard to perfect it. The final four of the 70 Canons of the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 dealt specifically with Jews (and Saracens; pagans also get an honorable mention).

Canon 67 intended to protect "Christians against cruel oppression by the Jews," by which they meant being charged interest. The charging of "immoderate interest" would result in being denied the custom of Christians. Christians would likewise be compelled by "ecclesiastical censure" from doing business with Jews.

Canon 68 insisted that Jews and Saracens wear clothing that distinguishes them, so that there could be no mistake of a Christian, say wooing a non-Christian. The Synod of Narbonne in 1227 ruled:

That Jews may be distinguished from others, we decree and emphatically command that in the center of the breast (of their garments) they shall wear an oval badge, the measure of one finger in width and one half a palm in height. [link]

This was also justified by quoting Numbers 15:37-41, the rule to wear tassels with blue cords on the corners of garments as a constant reminder of the Lord's commandments.

Canon 69 forbade a Jew from holding any office that would give him authority over Christians.

The final Canon addresses Jews who have converted, declaring that they must not be allowed to return to their former lives. It "cleverly" quoted the Old Testament in junction against wearing clothing made from two different fibers [Deuteronomy 22:2], comparing it to the converted trying to live two lives by not completely abandoning the old one.

And that wrapped up the Fourth Lateran, except for an "Epilogue"—a series of decrees about the Holy Land—which was of particular importance to Pope Innocent because of what happened a decade earlier; but that's for tomorrow.

Consanguinity

The word "consanguinity" comes from Latin consanguinitas ["blood relation"], and refers to having a close kinship with someone through a common ancestor. Laws of consanguinity—determining the degree of consanguinity allowed for marriage—varied from time to time and place to place

The early Catholic Church followed Roman civil law, which stated that couples within four degrees of consanguinity were forbidden to wed. This was determined by generations: you would count up the family tree to a common ancestor, and then down to the intended spouse. In the 800s this was changed to seven degrees by the church, and was determined by counting back seven generations. This meant that you could not marry if you had the same grandfather (or grandmother), great-grandfather, g-g-grandfather, etc., back seven generations. You could not marry a cousin, second-cousin, third-cousin, right up to seventh-cousin.

This made finding. spouse increasingly difficult, and dispensations by the church were becoming more and more frequent. The Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 decided to deal with this by pulling back so that fourth cousins could marry at will.

Which brings me to Canon 50 of the Fourth Lateran, where the above change is stated and defended. But here's the funny part. In order to make a change to the rules of consanguinity, the Canon begins by stating that human statutes change over time, and after all God Himself changed things in the New Testament from what had been decreed in the Old Testament. With this reasoning, they state the change in the rules, after which it is stated:

Since therefore the prohibition of conjugal union is restricted to the fourth degree, we wish that it remain so in perpetuum, notwithstanding the decrees already issued relative to this matter either by others or by ourselves [Canon 50]

So...statutes can change, and that's why we can change this one, but it better never change again!

And speaking of laws that have changed, they also made some laws concerning Jews, which we will look at next.

The Fourth Lateran

Debate during the 4th Lateran Council

Despite Peter Lombard's Sententiæ making the case for marriage not needing an officiant or consummation, the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 changed all that.

Pope Innocent III spent years arranging the Council. His purpose was to make necessary reforms, and to commit to liberating the Holy Land from non-Christian rule. Innocent wanted to make sure that the changes made were disseminated across all of Christendom, so hundreds of representatives were invited from all dioceses and abbeys. Seventy Canons resulted, covering topics from Jews not holding office to marriage to not appointing competent persons to the priesthood. The decisions on marriage are today's topic.

It is not until Canon 50 (of a total of 70) that marriage is first discussed, regarding consanguinity. Canon 51 is our focus today, however, since it addresses the idea of clandestine marriage. A brief summary says:

Clandestine marriages and witness to them by a priest are forbidden. Marriages ... must be published in the churches by the priests so that, if legitimate impediments exist, they may be made known. If doubt exists, let the contemplated marriage be forbidden till the matter is cleared up. [link]

The canon declares that any children of a union not properly contracted/announced/witnessed be considered illegitimate. Also, a priest who performs such a union without first assuring that no impediment to the union exists should be suspended for three years. On the other hand, if someone were to try maliciously to create or falsify an impediment, the perpetrator should be punished.

Tomorrow we will go back to Canon 50 and the consideration of consanguinity.