Battle of Ronceveaux

Charlemagne thought trying to retake parts of the Iberian Peninsula back from the Moors was a good idea, so he accepted an invitation from Sulayman al-Arabi to join him in opposing the Umayyad Caliphate (Suleyman was a supporter of the Abbasid family tree, which eventually did succeed the Umayyads). The affair did not go smoothly, and before too long Charlemagne headed home. Along the way, however, he decided to harass the Basques of Pamplona and surrounding lands.

This was not entirely arbitrary on Charlemagne's part. His father, Pepin the Short, had trouble with Basques, who were a significant part of the Aquitainian army that Pepin fought and defeated. The Basques had submitted to him in the late 760s. Charlemagne perhaps wanted to express his frustration at accomplishing nothing from the agreement with al-Arabi, and used his army to "blow off some steam" by tearing down the city walls of Pamplona.

What Charlemagne should have realized was that the Basques would not just sit back and lick their wounds. As he headed north, the Basque army followed him. To get through the Pyrenees, the Christian army chose the Ronceveaux Pass. The rearguard was led by Roland, warden of the Breton March.

Curious point about Roland: in all recorded history, he is mentioned only once. Einhard in his "Life of Charlemagne" tells the story of what happened when the Basques caught up with the tail end of the army at Ronceveaux on the evening of 15 August 778:

That place is so thoroughly covered with thick forest that it is the perfect spot for an ambush. [Charles's] army was forced by the narrow terrain to proceed in a long line and [it was at that spot], high on the mountain, that the Basques set their ambush. [...] The Basques had the advantage in this skirmish because of the lightness of their weapons and the nature of the terrain, whereas the Franks were disadvantaged by the heaviness of their arms and the unevenness of the land. Eggihard, the overseer of the king's table, Anselm, the count of the palace, and Roland, the lord of the Breton March, along with many others died in that skirmish. But this deed could not be avenged at that time, because the enemy had so dispersed after the attack that there was no indication as to where they could be found. [source]

The attack was completely unexpected, and the Frankish forces were in disarray. The lightly armored Basques had the high ground, and were successful at cutting off the rear guard from the main part of the army. The Franks fought as well as they could, and arguably succeeded in keeping the Basques focused on them, allowing the main part of the army to survive, but Roland and his part of the army was slaughtered by the Basques. In the 8th century, that was the end of the story.

In the 11th century, however, a French poet would compose an epic poem that would turn this once-mentioned Roland into a national hero in a highly fictionalized re-telling of the Battle of Ronceveaux. Tomorrow we will have "story time." See you then.

The Abbey of Fulda

Fulda is a town in Hesse, Germany. In 744 CE, a disciple of St. Boniface named St. Sturm built a monastery there, intended to be the largest monastery ever founded at Boniface's behest. Boniface argued—and succeeded—in having Fulda placed directly under the supervision of the popes, rather than local bishops. Sturm was its first abbot. Ten years later, Boniface died and was buried there, which enhanced the reputation of the monastery. Visitors and donations flowed to Fulda, and it became a prominent center of learning.

One of its major manuscripts was the Annales Fuldenses, "Annals of Fulda," a contemporary account of the Carolingians from the final years of Louis the Pious (died 840) to 900. It is believed that Einhard, who was educated there, is responsible for entries up until 838.

Production of manuscripts was a specialty of Fulda, increasing the size of the library to about 2000 volumes. The only surviving copy of the De Rerum Natura of Lucretius was probably discovered here in 1417 (mentioned here). Before his death in 771, Charlemagne's brother Carloman took special interest in Fulda to guarantee its success. The monks also learned many other trades in order for the monastery to be self-sufficient, even living outside the monastery to pursue these trades.

After Sturm, Abbot Baugulf ran the monastery from 779 to 802. He focused on expanding educational aspects of the monastery. Later, under the 5th abbot, Hrabanus Maurus, a new school was formed: Fulda monastery school was essentially a high school, with separate departments for theological studies, the arts, and the sciences. He also sought out more holy relics for the monastery, which further increased its importance as a pilgrimage site.

A turning point for Fulda came in 1221, when its prominence was recognized by the abbots being named Princes of the Holy Roman Empire. This slowly affected Fulda adversely, however: the increasingly wealthy monastery tried to turn public lands to their own private lands, which led to a local insurrection in the 14th century. The monastery was dissolved in 1802, but the diocese and community that sprang up because of it still exists.

Once again, I find that a name that weaves in and out of the posts on this blog has been neglected. St. Boniface has appeared in several posts over the years as a prominent figure without ever discussing what made him prominent. I will fix in that gap that next time.

The Life of Charlemagne

There are two "Lives" of Charlemagne, one by Einhard who was a member of the Carolingian court for decades, and one by a "Monk of St. Gall." The Monk writes that he was given the idea for the biography when Emperor Charles III visited St. Gall for three days; this can be dated to 883, meaning the Monk was writing 70 years after its subjects death, and 60 years after Einhard's eyewitness account.

Einhard's Vita Karoli Magni ("Life of Charles the Great") is not just a list of wars fought and won—and there were many—but offers insight to the habits and interests of its subject, and in so doing gives a glimpse of daily life in the Frankish court.

One thing we learn is of the close relationship Charlemagne had with the scholars with whom he surrounded himself: they had nicknames for each other. Charles himself was called (King) David, while Einhard's skill at managing building projects and his knowledge of Scripture saw him named Bezaleel, from a character in the Bible

...filled with the spirit of God, in wisdom, and in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship, to devise cunning works, to work in gold, and in silver, and in brass, and in cutting of stones, and in carving of timber. [Exodus, xxxi]

Einhard, writing after Charles' death, forsakes the idea of making up tales of his subject's youth, claiming that no one was currently alive who could tell him anything about the king's life before his time as king. As much as Einhard writes because of his admitted great admiration for Charles, he refuses to do what so many medieval biographers would do: embellish his subject's early life with tales of his prowess, etc.

Of the 47 years' worth of wars discussed, the penultimate with the Huns stands out because of the near-total victory by Charlemagne, after which the spoils of war changed the Franks from "a poor people" to a land with so many riches that their coinage was devalued and commodity prices rose.

Of Charlemagne's personal life, we learn of his wives and concubines and their respective children (Einhard even admits that one name escapes him; the honesty of his account in places is refreshing). We learn that he quarreled with his mother Bertrada only once (when he divorced his first wife whom he had married on Bertrada's advice), and that he treated his sister with the same reverence he treated his mother.

As soon as his sons were old enough, he had them taught to ride and hunt and use weapons. His daughters were taught the arts of the spindle and distaff and to avoid idleness; all his children were taught the liberal arts, and to adopt high principles. When he was at court, dinners were always with the family. His attachment to his children was strong, and he openly wept when two sons and a daughter pre-deceased him. He also wept for the death of Pope Adrian I, whom he considered a great friend.

His sons and daughters also traveled with him, the sons riding up front and the daughters in the rear, guarded. One failing in Charles as a king was the fact that his daughters would have made him some powerful alliances through carefully chosen marriages, yet he never allowed them to be married, keeping them always with him. He had betrothed his eldest, Hruotrud, to Emperor Constantine VI, but it was broken off, possibly because of religious differences, or the distance she would have been from her father?

Despite the affection he showed for his family, he was a king and emperor who had to be harsh at times. Some of those times will be explored tomorrow.

Einhard

Charlemagne, as has been mentioned many times over the years, brought many educated people to his court (Alcuin, for example), promoting learning and art to the point where there was a Carolingian Renascence long before the Renaissance of common knowledge. One of those scholars and historians was the Frankish Eginhard, in Latin called Einhardus; we simply call him Einhard.

Born about 775, when Charlemagne was already king of the Franks and the Lombards, Einhard was sent to be educated at Fulda. He was physically small, and so focused on scholarship and Latin rather than fencing and riding. (His Latin style is considered superior to that of most writers of the time.) Around 791-2 he was accepted to Charlemagne's court and was made "Clerk of the Works" for several construction projects.

His wife was named Emma; legend says she was a daughter of Charlemagne, and that the two eloped but were forgiven by her father. The woodcut above shows the diminutive Einhard being carried by Emma as they flee Court. There is no evidence to support this story, but folklore liked the idea. The Count of Erbach in 1810 claimed descent from Charlemagne through Einhard and Emma.

He was never given a title or a permanent position until after Charlemagne's death, when Louis the Pious made Einhard his private secretary. Einhard spent about 40 years serving the father and son kings, retiring in 830. Before he retired, however, he made use of the Royal Frankish Annals to compose the Vita Karoli Magni ("Life of Charlemagne"), the most thorough—and, of course, biased—contemporary biography we have for Charlemagne. He died in 840.

Einhard was responsible for other works: On the Adoration of the Cross, On the Translations and the Miracles of SS. Marcellinus and Petrus, and a collection of letters. But the biography of Charlemagne is worth taking a closer look, next time we meet.

Long Hair and Kingship

Gregory of Tours mentions, regarding an event in which the body of King Clovis I was exhumed, "Though I did not know who he was, I recognised from the length of the hair that it was Clovis." Elsewhere he refers to theFranks as reges criniti, the "long-haired kings." The post just prior to this tells of a choice offered to a queen to have princes shorn or killed; she chooses killed rather than the shame of princes who are shorn of their locks and therefore denied the chance to some day rule. Gregory tells another anecdote of King Clovis defeating a rival king who betrayed him, Chararic, cutting short the hair of him and his son and confining them in a monastery. When it was later reported to Clovis that the son had remarked to his father that they should grow their hair long again, Clovis had them killed.

Human cultures have developed many ways to indicate social cues, and hair length and style has certainly been one way to distinguish the upper from the lower echelons, but the Merovingians took it to an entirely new level.

We have every reason to believe that the Franks, like the Romans, kept their hair short, so the Merovingian line of royalty would have stood out from the common folk. It was not necessary that the hair had never been cut, just that it was long. Why this was so, we cannot say for certain. Some suggest it is simply a distinction between the Germanic military culture and the Roman religious culture of the various peoples that the Merovingians conquered, but that is too simplistic to be accurate.

When the Merovingian kings began to become lazy, their "Mayors of the Palace" managed their affairs, effectively running the kingdom. The last Merovingian king was Childeric III, whose Mayor of the Palace was Charles Martel, the "Hammer." According to Charlemagne's biographer Einhard, Charles allowed Childeric "to sit on his throne, content with the name of king only, with his long hair and flowing beard, and give the appearance of sovereignty." Eventually, Martel's son, Pepin the Short, took the throne with the backing of Pope Zachary. He had Childeric tonsured and sent with his also-shorn son Theuderic to separate monasteries.

You may recall in the post on Childebert how his brother Chlodomer was killed in battle against Burgundy. A Byzantine historian, Agathias, writes a contemporary account of the battle, giving us a little more on the attitude toward hairstyles in different cultures:

And when he fell, the Burgundians, seeing his hair flowing and abundant, loose down to his back, at once realised that they had killed the enemy leader. For it is the rule for Frankish kings never to be shorn; instead, their hair is never cut from childhood on, and hangs down in abundance on their shoulders. Their front hair, is parted on the forehead and falls down on either side. Their hair is not uncombed and dry and dirty and braided up in a messy knot like that of the Turks and Avars; instead, they anoint it with unguents of different sorts, and carefully comb it. Now this it is their custom to set apart as a distinguishing mark and special prerogative for the royal house. For their subjects have their hair cut all round, and are not permitted to grow it further.

The few seals of Merovingian kings that we have show the long hair, parted in the middle. Hair styles among the common folk might have been varied, but notably long hair was reserved for, and crucial to, the Merovingian royalty.

Now for another of those names I feel I have neglected: Einhard is significant because of his life of Charlemagne, and I'll tell you more next time.

Aprille

It is the first of April, and while you might expect something about pulling pranks and acting the fool, instead we are going to talk about...April. Chaucer's most famous poem starts with a mention of April and its sweet showers, but did he know what "April" meant?

April lovers from the Margaret de Foix Book of Hours

We are not sure why it is called April, from the Latin Aprilis. The Greeks call this month άνοιξη [ánoixé], which means "opening." This is because April is traditionally when the earth starts to renew itself and flowers and buds begin to open. Based on this, April might come from Latin aperture, "to open," from which we get words like aperture.

On the other hand, since the Romans liked to name their months for practical reasons, either after gods (January) or Caesars (July and August) or simply numerically (September, October, etc.), maybe we should see if April fits the pattern. Perhaps Aprilis was actually Aphrilis, as in Aphrodite, the Greek name of Venus. After all, Venus had a festival, the Veneralia, held on 1 April, in honor of Venus Verticordia ["Venus the Changer of Hearts"].

Maybe the Middle Ages knew of this origin, since illustrated calendars and books of hours often had pairs of lovers to represent April, as we see above. (To be honest, this was a later medieval trend; earlier, April just had someone holding a green branch to show life coming back to Nature.)

The Anglo-Saxons called it ēastre-monaþ; we don't know why. Bede tells us that it was named for a goddess, Eostre, and that this is why the Anglo-Saxons called the Resurrection "Easter." Einhard says the same, but he probably got it from Bede.

Mirrors for Princes

Machiavelli's Il Principe (c.1513) was far from innovative. Writers since classical times had produced works that explained the proper behavior—or improper behavior—of rulers. The genre was called specula principum, or "mirrors for princes." These took the form of instruction books, often aimed at a young ruler who was just coming into power, or could be biographies of rulers who should (or should not) be emulated.

The reign of Charlemagne seems to have motivated the desire to "raise the bar" for rulers and inspired many writers to produce mirrors for their local rulers in the 9th century. Charlemagne's life was, of course, the example to be followed as far as Einhard's Vita Karolini (Life of Charles) was concerned. No one wanted to see the Carolingian empire suffer after Charlemagne's demise, and so his descendants had no lack of advice. His son Louis the Pious was the target of one speculum by Smaragdus of Saint-Mihiel; Louis' son Pepin I of Aquitaine was the target of one by Jonas of Orléans; Louis' grandson Lothair II of Lotharingia was addressed by Sedulius Scottus in a work called "On Christian Rulers."

Alcuin of York, a prolific writer and famous teacher, wrote De virtutibus et vitiis (On virtues and vices, c.799) for Count Wido of Brittany. A friend of Alcuin's, whom he met at Charlemagne's school in Aachen, was Paulinus of Aquileia who wrote the Liber exhortationis (Book of exhortations, 795), for Count Heiric (Eric) of Friuli. Paulinus (c.730-802) had been born in the Friuli region of northeast Italy and he and Heiric were friends, so he felt entitled to tell Heiric a thing or two, including advising him to free his slaves. (Having slaves was common.) Paulinus also wrote an elegy when Heiric was killed in 799.

Mirrors for princes were popular right through the Renaissance by scholars who felt qualified to give advice to powerful men. We know of ones that were written for the future Henry VIII (by John Skelton; a copy exists in the British Museum), for King Charles V of Spain (1516, by Erasmus), for King Christian IV of Denmark-Norway (1597, by Johann Damgaard), and King James I of England wrote one for his eldest son, Henry, who died of typhoid at 18; maybe Charles I read it when he ascended the throne.