Latest / The Story of Italy: Rome, Renaissance, and the Birth of Modern Europe — Fexingo History / Pope Joan: The Medieval Legend of a Female Pope
Transcript
- Lucas: So, we've talked a lot about the papacy — the Curia, the Avignon exile, the Borgias. But there's one story that's been whispered about for centuries that we haven't touched yet, and it's the perfect mix of history and legend. Luna: Let me guess — Pope Joan? Lucas: Exactly. The female pope. It's one of those stories that refuses to die, even though most historians agree it never happened. But the fact that people believed it for so long tells us a lot about medieval attitudes toward women, power, and the Church. Luna: Where does the legend even come from? Lucas: The earliest known account appears in a chronicle by a Dominican friar named Jean de Mailly, writing around 1250 in Metz. He tells a brief story about a pope who was actually a woman — he calls her 'Johannes Anglicus', John the English — who reigned for about two years in the 9th century. The story goes that she was a brilliant scholar, disguised herself as a man, rose through the ranks, and was elected pope. But her downfall came during a papal procession from St. Peter's to the Lateran, when she gave birth to a child right there in the street. Luna: Wait, right in the middle of a procession? Lucas: Yeah. The crowd, according to the story, was horrified. They tied her to a horse, dragged her through the streets of Rome, and stoned her to death. And for centuries after, it was said that popes avoided that exact route during processions, and that there was even a chair — the 'pierced chair' — used to verify the pope's gender before his coronation. Luna: That's wild. But you said it's a legend. How do we know it's not true? Lucas: Well, for one thing, there's no contemporary evidence from the 9th century. No chronicles, no papal registers, no letters or coins. The first mention is four hundred years later. And the period in question — between Pope Leo IV, who died in 855, and Benedict III, who succeeded him — is actually well-documented. Leo IV died in July 855, and Benedict III was elected shortly after, with no gap for a female pope. There's a consistent list of popes from the Liber Pontificalis, the official papal biography, that has no room for Joan. Luna: So where did Jean de Mailly get the story? Lucas: That's the interesting part. The story seems to have grown out of earlier legends and anti-papal satire. There were tales of a female pope in Byzantine sources, and later, during the Investiture Controversy, the idea of a corrupt, feminised papacy was used as propaganda. But the real explosion of the legend came with the Dominican chronicler Martin of Opava, writing around 1270. He included a longer version in his popular 'Chronicon Pontificum et Imperatorum', and because his book was widely copied, the story spread all over Europe. Luna: So Martin of Opava is the one who made it famous? Lucas: Exactly. His version gives specific dates — she supposedly reigned from 855 to 857 — and adds details like her original name, which he gives as 'Agnes'. From there, the legend became entrenched. During the Great Western Schism in the late 14th century, both sides used it to attack the legitimacy of the other. And in the 15th and 16th centuries, even some humanists and reformers believed it. There's a bust of Pope Joan in the Cathedral of Siena, alongside other popes, which was only removed in the 17th century. Luna: That's remarkable. A bust of a fictional pope in a cathedral. Lucas: Yeah. And it wasn't just a bust. For centuries, it was believed that a special ceremony existed to prevent another female pope. The so-called 'pierced chair' — actually two chairs, known as the 'sedes stercorariae' — were supposedly used to verify the pope's gender after his election. But historians have shown these chairs were medieval thrones, not genital inspection devices. The misinterpretation came from later anti-Catholic writers. Luna: So the chairs were real but their purpose was misread. Lucas: Right. And the story about avoiding the route from St. Peter's to the Lateran? That's also not true. The procession route varied, and there's no evidence of a permanent detour. The legend was so powerful, though, that it shaped the way people saw the papacy for centuries. Even during the Reformation, Protestants used it to argue that the papacy was corrupt and could produce a female pope. Luna: It's fascinating how a story with no basis in fact can become so widely believed. Lucas: Absolutely. And the context matters. The 9th century, when Joan supposedly reigned, was a turbulent time for the papacy. The Carolingian Empire was weakening, and Rome was dominated by powerful aristocratic families like the Theophylacts — who actually did produce some very influential women, like Marozia, who effectively ruled Rome in the early 10th century. That period is sometimes called the 'pornocracy' or 'saeculum obscurum' — the dark age of the papacy — when popes were puppets of local nobles. So the idea of a female pope fit the perception that the papacy had been degraded. Luna: So the legend reflects a real anxiety about women wielding power in the Church. Lucas: Exactly. It's a myth that encodes a fear — and maybe a fascination — with female authority. And it's persisted into modern times. In the 19th century, there was a serious debate among scholars about whether Pope Joan was real. Some argued that the evidence was too consistent to be dismissed. But by the 20th century, the consensus was clear: no female pope ever existed. Yet the story keeps being resurrected, in novels, in films, even in some fringe historical claims. Luna: You know, it's funny — we've spent so many episodes on the real women who shaped the Church, like Catherine of Siena, and yet this mythical figure gets just as much attention. Lucas: That's a great point. Catherine of Siena was a real, powerful influence, but she didn't become pope — she advised popes. The legend of Pope Joan imagines a woman who actually holds the office, which is perhaps even more transgressive. And that's why it's stuck around. It's a story that challenges the very structure of the Church. Luna: Before we move on — and you know I don't usually do this — but I've got to say, this episode has been a real eye-opener for me. If you're listening and you've been enjoying these deep dives into history, honestly, if today was worth a coffee to you, there's a link — buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. It's how we keep this show ad-free and focused on the stories that matter. No pressure, but if it's worth it, we appreciate it. Lucas: And we do mean it — just a small gesture keeps us going. Now, back to Pope Joan. One of the most interesting later developments is how the legend was used in the 17th century. The Protestant historian David Blondel published a thorough refutation in 1647, showing the contradictions in the timeline. But even after that, belief persisted, especially among anti-Catholic writers. It wasn't until the 19th century that critical scholarship really put the nail in the coffin. Luna: So what about the physical evidence — like the bust in Siena or the chairs? Lucas: The bust in Siena Cathedral was part of a series of papal portraits, and it was labelled 'Johannes VIII, Foemina de Anglia' — John VIII, a woman from England. It was placed alongside genuine popes, but it was likely added in the 15th century, long after the time it claimed to represent. As for the chairs, they were indeed used in coronations, but not for gender verification. One theory is that they were used for the pope to sit on while receiving homage, and the holes were for carrying or for a practical purpose like a latrine. The scandalous interpretation came from later critics. Luna: So the chairs were real, but the story was fabricated around them. Lucas: Exactly. It's a classic case of a story finding a home in existing objects. The legend also influenced literature — Chaucer mentions a 'pope Joan' in his 'Canterbury Tales', and later, the story was used in Reformation polemics. In the 20th century, it inspired a novel by Donna Woolfolk Cross, 'Pope Joan', which was adapted into a film. So the myth has had a long cultural afterlife. Luna: It's a reminder that history isn't just about facts — it's also about the stories we choose to believe. Lucas: And why we believe them. The legend of Pope Joan tells us as much about the medieval and early modern periods as it does about the 9th century. It reveals anxieties about gender, power, and religious authority that were very real, even if the pope herself was not. Luna: So what's the final verdict? Completely false? Lucas: Yes — the consensus among historians is that Pope Joan never existed. There's no contemporary evidence, the timeline doesn't work, and the story has all the hallmarks of a legend that grew over time. But that doesn't mean it's not worth studying. As a historical myth, it's incredibly revealing. Luna: Well, I'm glad we finally covered this. It's one of those stories that everyone's heard of but nobody really knows the details. Lucas: And now you do. Next time someone brings up Pope Joan at a dinner party, you can tell them the real story — and why it's not real. Luna: I'll be ready. Thanks, Lucas. Lucas: Thanks, Luna. Until next time.