One of the most amazing popes in the history of the Catholic Church, and perhaps the most effective of the Early Middle Ages, is Gregory the Great (590-604). In war-torn, post-plague Italy, he faced many challenges and repeatedly rose to the occasion. While Gregory’s influence is well known, the role of several powerful queens in promoting Catholic Christianity during his time is a fascinating but often overlooked aspect of this period.
He is famous to students of the Church of England as the founder of Anglo-Saxon Christianity. English affection for Gregory goes back to the historian Bede (d. 731), who told a story of Gregory’s first encounter with English slaves in the markets of Rome. He asked:
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“What is the name of this race?” “They are called Angles,” he was told. “That is appropriate,” he said, “for they have angelic faces, and it is right that they should become fellow-heirs with the angels in heaven.”
In Latin, this is expressed in a well-known pun Non Angli sed angeli. Bede has a lot to say about Gregory, all of it complimentary; Gregory is the hero of the first book of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History. We know so much about Gregory and the English mission that it is easy to miss a bigger picture. That is, Gregory was not the only Catholic leader to reach out to “barbarian” kingdoms to encourage their rulers to convert themselves and their subjects to Gregory’s version of true Christianity.
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In Gregory’s time, there were three important cases of conversion, or progress to conversion, of heretics (Arians) and pagans to the Nicene church. In each case, the pioneers in this movement were queens. Finally, at least two of the queens were Franks, and the third had Frankish connections.
The Arian Divide in Gothic Spain
The story of these important conversions begins in the papacy of Gregory’s predecessor, Pelagius II, who died of the plague in 590. We don’t know that Pelagius took any personal initiatives on converting heretics or pagans, but the division between Arians and Catholics was a living issue all over the post-Roman West, particularly in Gothic-ruled Spain.
The Visigoths followed a policy of insisting on Gothic superiority over the Roman population. Part of this policy was maintaining their long-standing allegiance to Arian theology. On the other hand, the Visigothic kings were influenced in important ways by Roman and Byzantine precedents. Their legislation, for instance, even when concerning Gothic issues, was written in Latin.
Arianism, which denied the full divinity of Christ, was considered heretical by the Nicene Church, which followed the doctrine of the Trinity established at the Council of Nicaea in 325. This theological divide played a crucial role in the political and religious conflicts of the time.
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Most crowns from the Middle Ages have been melted down by their owners or thieves who had their own uses for the gold and gems. However, votive crowns of the long-lost Visigothic Kingdom survive as symbols of wealth, power, and piety. One example is the votive crown of Recceswinth (653–672), which was hung in a church in honour of God and the saints. Recceswinth’s name, spelled out in golden letters, reinforces the message of his royal devotion. Photo by Ángel M. Felicísimo / Wikimedia Commons
The Revolt of Hermenegild
Starting in the late 560s, King Leovigild (568-586) launched a long series of successful campaigns that made him master of nearly all of Spain. Like many victorious emperors of the past, he felt both obliged and able to devise a compromise theology that would be acceptable to everyone. Like those emperors, he was wrong.
He was resisted by his own eldest son, Hermenegild, who was expected to be his heir. Hermenegild aligned himself with various dissidents. One such was the Catholic bishop Leander of Seville, leader of an ecclesiastical dynasty with connections to the Byzantine church. (Seville was quite close to Byzantine territory on the Spanish coast.)
More important, he brought religious division into the royal family by marrying a Frankish – and Catholic – princess named Ingund. In her earliest days in Spain, she was pressured (and, in one story, beaten by Goswintha, Leovigild’s queen) to force her to adopt Arianism. Ingund rejected this pressure and was a significant influence on Hermenegild, who adopted the cause of the Catholics.
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Tensions rose between father and son until Leovigild had Hermenegild executed. The importance of the religious issue is shown by the fact that Hermenegild was immediately declared a martyr by his partisans; Ingund’s fate is uncertain. Leovigild died shortly after Hermenegild; his remaining son, Reccared, succeeded in 586 and united Spanish Christians under the Nicene banner.
The domestic and diplomatic dimensions of this revolution are reminiscent of Henry VIII’s “Reformation” of the English church nearly a thousand years later. We can’t say that Ingund was the most important figure, but she was the spark that lit the fire, and the fire burned until her cause won out.
Gregory the Great and the Anglo-Saxons
Miniature of Gregory the Great writing, in a 12th-century copy of his Dialogues, British Library, London.
While Ingund’s role in Spain was pivotal, a similar influence was occurring further north, in the nascent Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. The second and best-known intervention is, of course, Gregory the Great’s mission to the English. He lived in an era where apocalyptic expectations were common. The continued presence of the plague and repeated raids by Lombard dukes and kings on the remnants of Roman Italy were constant dangers.
Gregory, the richest and most powerful man in Rome, became a monk and then a bishop. He took on the role of defending the half-ruinous city and feeding the many starving refugees who sheltered there. He got no help from the empire, whose top official in Italy was at Ravenna and had priorities set in Constantinople.
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Even more important to Gregory was the need to defend the proper theology from Arianism (which was followed by the Lombards) and likewise from the eastern churches, who favoured what westerners called the Eutychian heresy. Gregory felt responsible for every aspect of the Christian community. Undoubtedly Gregory thought of Britannia as a lost Roman province, but not necessarily lost forever.
Gregory, bishop of Rome, believed in a universal Rome: the city, the empire, and especially the church. The pagan inhabitants of Britannia deserved to hear the word of God, and Christians—especially Gregory himself—were obliged to bring the Gospel to them.
The Role of Bertha of Kent
Bertha depicted in a Stained glass windows in the Chapter house, Canterbury Cathedral, Canterbury, England. Photo by Mattana / Wikimedia Commons
Gregory’s involvement in Britain grew out of his friendship with the Franks. The Frankish kings (there were often more than one) were a military power, enemies of the Lombards, and Catholic in religious allegiance. Gregory had interests in common with the Franks and was willing to promote Frankish interests.
The Franks were interested in extending their influence in Britain. Well before Gregory sent his first missionaries to Britain in 596, the Franks had sent a princess, Bertha, to marry the king of Kent, Athelbert, who by some was considered a superior king, holding imperial power.
Bertha was allowed to (or insisted on) practising her religion, which was of course Catholic Christianity. Bertha’s steadfastness and Athelbert’s tolerance gave the Italian monks a base from which they were able to start the conversion of the various Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. (They had no luck with bringing the Christian Britons into obedience to Rome.)
The Influence of Queen Theudelinda
A 15th-century painting of Theodelinda, queen of the Lombards, marries Authari
In a third significant case, Theudelinda of the Lombards demonstrated how queens could influence not only their own people but also foster alliances and religious growth in other regions. Theudelinda, queen of the Lombards, was a Bavarian but quickly became an important member of the Lombard aristocracy.
When her first husband, King Authari, died only a year after marrying Theudelinda, this Bavarian princess was chosen to uphold the royal office and pick a new king (590). We might suspect that this foreign princess was chosen to be a powerless symbol, but there is plenty of evidence that she was strong-willed and became an independent force in Lombard politics. She held royal rank for 35 years, as queen alone, as regent for her son Adaloald during his minority, and his co-ruler afterward.
Theudelinda, whatever her practical or theoretical royal powers might have been, was not able to have her own way in everything. Her chief concern was to convert the Lombards, and she was a friend of Pope Gregory, who corresponded with her and sent her rich gifts. But many Lombards saw the Romans of Italy as their natural prey and thought conversion to the Roman religion would mean abandoning their proud fighting traditions.
Theudelinda was not able to make Catholic Christianity an established religion in her lifetime, but she was able to create some institutions that promoted it. The Cathedral at Monza was built by her. The 14th–15th century version of the cathedral is something of a shrine to Theudelinda. She also founded two famous monasteries, which embodied the contemporary goals of true Christianity and the monastic ideal of renouncing the wicked world. These were signs of her progress, and there is no doubt about her dedication.
We started by describing how influential Gregory the Great was. He is a crucial figure, one of the best-documented people of the early Middle Ages. And anyone who reads the sources will end up knowing quite a bit about him. We can’t do that with Ingund, or even Bertha. We hardly know anything about their personalities. This is a common problem in understanding medieval women, even royal women.
But if we look at Ingund and her near-contemporaries, she can be appreciated as one of a group: Queenly Apostles. These three determined women were true pioneers who stepped out of their home environments and used their positions to promote their beliefs. Their role in this period of religious turmoil not only tells us about the progress of the Catholic Church, but it also should make us think more deeply about the roles of women as leaders. These queens not only influenced their own kingdoms but also shaped the religious identity of medieval Europe for centuries to come.
Steven Muhlberger, before he retired from Nipissing University, studied and taught Late Antiquity, the history of democracy, Islamic history, and chivalry. His most recent scholarly works include The Chronicle of the Good Duke Louis II Bourbon published by Freelance Academy Press.
By Steven Muhlberger
One of the most amazing popes in the history of the Catholic Church, and perhaps the most effective of the Early Middle Ages, is Gregory the Great (590-604). In war-torn, post-plague Italy, he faced many challenges and repeatedly rose to the occasion. While Gregory’s influence is well known, the role of several powerful queens in promoting Catholic Christianity during his time is a fascinating but often overlooked aspect of this period.
He is famous to students of the Church of England as the founder of Anglo-Saxon Christianity. English affection for Gregory goes back to the historian Bede (d. 731), who told a story of Gregory’s first encounter with English slaves in the markets of Rome. He asked:
“What is the name of this race?” “They are called Angles,” he was told. “That is appropriate,” he said, “for they have angelic faces, and it is right that they should become fellow-heirs with the angels in heaven.”
In Latin, this is expressed in a well-known pun Non Angli sed angeli. Bede has a lot to say about Gregory, all of it complimentary; Gregory is the hero of the first book of Bede’s Ecclesiastical History. We know so much about Gregory and the English mission that it is easy to miss a bigger picture. That is, Gregory was not the only Catholic leader to reach out to “barbarian” kingdoms to encourage their rulers to convert themselves and their subjects to Gregory’s version of true Christianity.
In Gregory’s time, there were three important cases of conversion, or progress to conversion, of heretics (Arians) and pagans to the Nicene church. In each case, the pioneers in this movement were queens. Finally, at least two of the queens were Franks, and the third had Frankish connections.
The Arian Divide in Gothic Spain
The story of these important conversions begins in the papacy of Gregory’s predecessor, Pelagius II, who died of the plague in 590. We don’t know that Pelagius took any personal initiatives on converting heretics or pagans, but the division between Arians and Catholics was a living issue all over the post-Roman West, particularly in Gothic-ruled Spain.
The Visigoths followed a policy of insisting on Gothic superiority over the Roman population. Part of this policy was maintaining their long-standing allegiance to Arian theology. On the other hand, the Visigothic kings were influenced in important ways by Roman and Byzantine precedents. Their legislation, for instance, even when concerning Gothic issues, was written in Latin.
Arianism, which denied the full divinity of Christ, was considered heretical by the Nicene Church, which followed the doctrine of the Trinity established at the Council of Nicaea in 325. This theological divide played a crucial role in the political and religious conflicts of the time.
The Revolt of Hermenegild
Starting in the late 560s, King Leovigild (568-586) launched a long series of successful campaigns that made him master of nearly all of Spain. Like many victorious emperors of the past, he felt both obliged and able to devise a compromise theology that would be acceptable to everyone. Like those emperors, he was wrong.
He was resisted by his own eldest son, Hermenegild, who was expected to be his heir. Hermenegild aligned himself with various dissidents. One such was the Catholic bishop Leander of Seville, leader of an ecclesiastical dynasty with connections to the Byzantine church. (Seville was quite close to Byzantine territory on the Spanish coast.)
More important, he brought religious division into the royal family by marrying a Frankish – and Catholic – princess named Ingund. In her earliest days in Spain, she was pressured (and, in one story, beaten by Goswintha, Leovigild’s queen) to force her to adopt Arianism. Ingund rejected this pressure and was a significant influence on Hermenegild, who adopted the cause of the Catholics.
Tensions rose between father and son until Leovigild had Hermenegild executed. The importance of the religious issue is shown by the fact that Hermenegild was immediately declared a martyr by his partisans; Ingund’s fate is uncertain. Leovigild died shortly after Hermenegild; his remaining son, Reccared, succeeded in 586 and united Spanish Christians under the Nicene banner.
The domestic and diplomatic dimensions of this revolution are reminiscent of Henry VIII’s “Reformation” of the English church nearly a thousand years later. We can’t say that Ingund was the most important figure, but she was the spark that lit the fire, and the fire burned until her cause won out.
Gregory the Great and the Anglo-Saxons
While Ingund’s role in Spain was pivotal, a similar influence was occurring further north, in the nascent Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. The second and best-known intervention is, of course, Gregory the Great’s mission to the English. He lived in an era where apocalyptic expectations were common. The continued presence of the plague and repeated raids by Lombard dukes and kings on the remnants of Roman Italy were constant dangers.
Gregory, the richest and most powerful man in Rome, became a monk and then a bishop. He took on the role of defending the half-ruinous city and feeding the many starving refugees who sheltered there. He got no help from the empire, whose top official in Italy was at Ravenna and had priorities set in Constantinople.
Even more important to Gregory was the need to defend the proper theology from Arianism (which was followed by the Lombards) and likewise from the eastern churches, who favoured what westerners called the Eutychian heresy. Gregory felt responsible for every aspect of the Christian community. Undoubtedly Gregory thought of Britannia as a lost Roman province, but not necessarily lost forever.
Gregory, bishop of Rome, believed in a universal Rome: the city, the empire, and especially the church. The pagan inhabitants of Britannia deserved to hear the word of God, and Christians—especially Gregory himself—were obliged to bring the Gospel to them.
The Role of Bertha of Kent
Gregory’s involvement in Britain grew out of his friendship with the Franks. The Frankish kings (there were often more than one) were a military power, enemies of the Lombards, and Catholic in religious allegiance. Gregory had interests in common with the Franks and was willing to promote Frankish interests.
The Franks were interested in extending their influence in Britain. Well before Gregory sent his first missionaries to Britain in 596, the Franks had sent a princess, Bertha, to marry the king of Kent, Athelbert, who by some was considered a superior king, holding imperial power.
Bertha was allowed to (or insisted on) practising her religion, which was of course Catholic Christianity. Bertha’s steadfastness and Athelbert’s tolerance gave the Italian monks a base from which they were able to start the conversion of the various Anglo-Saxon kingdoms. (They had no luck with bringing the Christian Britons into obedience to Rome.)
The Influence of Queen Theudelinda
In a third significant case, Theudelinda of the Lombards demonstrated how queens could influence not only their own people but also foster alliances and religious growth in other regions. Theudelinda, queen of the Lombards, was a Bavarian but quickly became an important member of the Lombard aristocracy.
When her first husband, King Authari, died only a year after marrying Theudelinda, this Bavarian princess was chosen to uphold the royal office and pick a new king (590). We might suspect that this foreign princess was chosen to be a powerless symbol, but there is plenty of evidence that she was strong-willed and became an independent force in Lombard politics. She held royal rank for 35 years, as queen alone, as regent for her son Adaloald during his minority, and his co-ruler afterward.
Theudelinda, whatever her practical or theoretical royal powers might have been, was not able to have her own way in everything. Her chief concern was to convert the Lombards, and she was a friend of Pope Gregory, who corresponded with her and sent her rich gifts. But many Lombards saw the Romans of Italy as their natural prey and thought conversion to the Roman religion would mean abandoning their proud fighting traditions.
Theudelinda was not able to make Catholic Christianity an established religion in her lifetime, but she was able to create some institutions that promoted it. The Cathedral at Monza was built by her. The 14th–15th century version of the cathedral is something of a shrine to Theudelinda. She also founded two famous monasteries, which embodied the contemporary goals of true Christianity and the monastic ideal of renouncing the wicked world. These were signs of her progress, and there is no doubt about her dedication.
We started by describing how influential Gregory the Great was. He is a crucial figure, one of the best-documented people of the early Middle Ages. And anyone who reads the sources will end up knowing quite a bit about him. We can’t do that with Ingund, or even Bertha. We hardly know anything about their personalities. This is a common problem in understanding medieval women, even royal women.
But if we look at Ingund and her near-contemporaries, she can be appreciated as one of a group: Queenly Apostles. These three determined women were true pioneers who stepped out of their home environments and used their positions to promote their beliefs. Their role in this period of religious turmoil not only tells us about the progress of the Catholic Church, but it also should make us think more deeply about the roles of women as leaders. These queens not only influenced their own kingdoms but also shaped the religious identity of medieval Europe for centuries to come.
Steven Muhlberger, before he retired from Nipissing University, studied and taught Late Antiquity, the history of democracy, Islamic history, and chivalry. His most recent scholarly works include The Chronicle of the Good Duke Louis II Bourbon published by Freelance Academy Press.
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