Leo was not born with that name. Popes had been taking new names upon election for at least five centuries at that point (as popes still do today). He was originally named Bruno and was from Alsace. Alsace at that time was under the German king. (Alsace has switched back and forth between France and Germany multiple times. People who live there these days are essentially bilingual. It's part of France now, but if it becomes part of Germany again they're ready.)
Young Bruno came from a powerful family that controlled multiple castles in Alsace, including Dabo and Eguisheim. At least three places claim he was born there, though it seems unlikely that he was actually born in all three. Dabo castle was built on top of a huge, balanced rock. There's not much left of the castle, but it's a stunning site. (The church there now is nineteenth-century. It's dedicated to Saint Leo IX and has a statue of him.) If I were an Alsatian countess, I would not choose to give birth up there.
Eguisheim is now one of France's most charming villages. Both the castle on the hill above town and the town square claim to be his birthplace. The present (ruined) castle on the hill is mostly thirteenth-century, though it has older origins. The town square is where another castle stood until torn down in the French Revolution. But it's okay--a modern statue of Leo IX is now erected there.
Young Bruno had been bishop of Toul (in Lorraine) for over twenty years when elected pope. He was the third German to be elected pope after the (German) emperor Henry III had tried to clean up the papacy by deposing all the Italians fighting in the streets of Rome over the right to be pope. The first two had quickly died, probably poisoned, and Leo had the sense to get out of town.
He spent most of his five years as pope traveling around western Europe, holding councils, establishing that the pope was the head of the church hierarchy. The bishops, who had been running Christianity between them for a millennium, took it surprisingly well.
His biggest triumph was the 1049 Council of Reims. Here he was especially concerned that all bishops demonstrate they had been properly elected, by "clergy and people," rather than buying their office, which would be "simony," a serious sin. One by one he had the assembled bishops swear on the relics of Saint Remi--the saint who had baptized Clovis--that they had been elected properly.
The first few went well. Then a noted simoniac started to swear--and suddenly choked, foamed at the mouth, and collapsed. Whoa! Several other bishops started tiptoeing toward the exits but were stopped by the papal guard. Others asked for a "private audience" and were told they could say in public whatever they had to say.
Recognizing that surrender is often a good weapon, many bishops now fell on their faces, sobbing and confessing and offering to resign, offering up their staffs. The pope accepted the resignation of many, including the liar (who didn't actually die), but forgave a number and gave them their staffs back. So those who seemed otherwise good moral men, and who could claim that they'd always felt terrible that their families had bought their office without their knowledge, could continue as bishop. But it was now established that the pope alone had the authority to make the final decision if one could or couldn't be bishop. Forgiving establishes the power not to forgive but to punish.
One bishop showed up late to the council, saying, "Hot-cha, Holy Father, I hear you're looking into irregularities of how people obtained their office of bishop. Let me tell you about irregularities! You won't believe how much I was overcharged for mine." He was one of the ones who did not get his staff back.
Continuing his travels, Leo consecrated the new abbot of Montier-en-Der (on the Champagne-Lorraine border). The new abbot was named Wandelgar, but he took a new name as abbot, Bruno (this was unusual, as abbots and bishops, unlike popes, almost never took new names on election). Wandelgar said proudly that Pope Leo had said he could have the name Bruno, since he didn't need it anymore, and spent the rest of his life as Abbot Bruno.
One of Pope Leo's last acts in 1054 was sending a delegation to Constantinople to try to repair the rocky relations between the Latin (Roman) and Greek orthodox churches. But the delegation instead excommunicated the Patriarch (head of Greek orthodoxy), who excommunicated the pope and his minions right back. Leo had died before the bad news reached him. Only now, nearly a thousand years later, are the pope and patriarch trying to find common ground.
The reform of the western church, getting rid of simony, unchaste priests, and the like, is often called the Gregorian Reform for Pope Gregory VII, a generation later. But it really should be called the Leontine Reform for the pope who started it.
© C. Dale Brittain 2018
For more on the papacy and other aspects of medieval history, see my ebook Positively Medieval, available on Amazon and other ebook platforms.
I love your content, so informative! Keep the good work up :)
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