Roman Barbarians: The Royal Court and Culture in the Early Medieval West (Medieval Culture and Society)

Roman Barbarians The Royal Court and Culture in the Early Medieval West

Yitzhak Hen

Roman Barbarians

Medieval Culture and Society General Editor: Miri Rubin Advisors: Jean Dunbabin and Robert Stacey Medieval Culture and Society provides a frame work for the study of an array of themes in the history of medieval Europe, including some which are looked at comparatively, and approaches them in the light of the new theoretical reflections. The books in this series will be useful to students, to a wide range of scholars and to the general reader. Written in clear and elegant prose, they concisely present new sources and their interpretation and also highlight underlying method and theory. Published titles Jean Dunbabin CAPTIVITY AND IMPRISONMENT IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE, 1000–1300 Yitzhak Hen ROMAN BARBARIANS The Royal Court and Culture in the Early Medieval West Elisabeth van Houts MEMORY AND GENDER IN MEDIEVAL EUROPE Phillip Schofield PEASANT AND COMMUNITY IN MEDIEVAL ENGLAND, 1200–1500

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Roman Barbarians The Royal Court and Culture in the Early Medieval West Yitzhak Hen

© Yitzhak Hen 2007 All rights reserved. No reproduction, copy or transmission of this publication may be made without written permission. No paragraph of this publication may be reproduced, copied or transmitted save with written permission or in accordance with the provisions of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, or under the terms of any licence permitting limited copying issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency, 90 Tottenham Court Road, London W1T 4LP. Any person who does any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages. The author has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published 2007 by PALGRAVE MACMILLAN Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire RG21 6XS and 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010 Companies and representatives throughout the world PALGRAVE MACMILLAN is the global academic imprint of the Palgrave Macmillan division of St. Martin’s Press, LLC and of Palgrave Macmillan Ltd. Macmillan is a registered trademark in the United States, United Kingdom and other countries. Palgrave is a registered trademark in the European Union and other countries. ISBN-13: 9780333786659 hardback ISBN-10: 0333786653 hardback This book is printed on paper suitable for recycling and made from fully managed and sustained forest sources. Logging, pulping and manufacturing processes are expected to conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Hen, Yitzhak. Roman barbarians : the royal court and culture in the early Medieval West / Yitzhak Hen. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0333786653 (alk. paper) 1. Courts and courtiers“Intellectual life“Europe“History“To 1500. 2. Franks“Kings and rulers“History. 3. Franks“Nobility“History. 4. Civilization, Medieval. 5. Europe“History“392814. I. Title. GT3520.H46 2007 940.1“dc22 2007023135 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 09 08 07 Printed and bound in Great Britain by Antony Rowe Ltd, Chippenham and Eastbourne

To Nadav

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Contents

List of Maps

ix

Preface

x

List of Abbreviations

xii

1 Introduction: A Series of Unfortunate Events The dim view of early medieval culture The survival of early medieval culture in modern historiography A word on the patronage of culture Another word on the concept ‘culture’

16 21 24

2 Adaptation: The Ostrogothic Court of Theoderic the Great Theodericus illiteratus Ostrogothic past, Roman present Roman past, Gothic present

27 33 39 53

3 Out of Africa: The Vandal Court of Thrasamund The cultural heritage of Roman North Africa King Thrasamund and the ‘Vandal Renaissance’ The Anthologia Latina Dracontius The peculiar case of Fulgentius of Ruspe Roman Vandals

59 67 74 78 83 87 92

4 Before and After: The Frankish Court of Chlothar II and Dagobert I Kings and culture in Merovingian Gaul Court and culture in seventh-century Francia The Merovingian court school Culture and monasticism Flirting with liturgy vii

1 3

94 97 100 101 106 111

viii Contents

5 Music of the Heart: The Unusual Case of King Sisebut King Sisebut, vir sapiens et    pietate plenissimus Visigothic political ideology and the ‘Isidorian Renaissance’ Isidore of Seville and the culture of his time King Sisebut’s ‘Isidorian Renaissance’

124 128 141 143 149

6 Postcards from the Edges: A Prelude to the Carolingian Renaissance Charlemagne’s Lombard father-in-law The defiant cousin from Bavaria The splendour of Byzantium Ex oriente lux?

153 153 159 166 172

7 Conclusion

177

Select Bibliography

181

Index

205

List of Maps 1 2 3 4 5 6

The Roman Empire c. 300 Italy c. 500 Ravenna in the time of Theoderic the Great Vandal North Africa The Frankish Kingdom and neighbouring territories Visigothic Spain

ix

2 28 34 60 95 125

Preface In his magisterial book, Religion and the Rise of Western Culture, first published in London in 1950, Christopher Dawson argued that ‘the beginnings of western culture are to be found in the new spiritual community which aroused from the ruins of the Roman empire owing to the conversion of the northern barbarians to the Christian faith. The Christian Church inherited the traditions of the empire. It came to the barbarians as the bearer of a higher civilisation, endowed with the prestige of Roman law and the authority of the Roman name. The breakdown of the political organisation of the Roman Empire had left a great void which no barbarian king or general could fill, and this void was filled by the Church as the teacher and law-giver of the new peoples’. Dawson’s views were shared by many historians, archaeologists and literary critics, and in many respects became the standard textbook narrative on the cultural transformations of the Roman world. It is precisely this and similar statements that sparked the writing of Roman Barbarians, which offers a different and, I believe, a more nuanced account of the cultural activity that characterised late-antique and early medieval Europe. This book could not have been written, or completed, without the assistance and support of many individuals and institutions. I have started writing it during a sabbatical year at the Netherlands Institute for Advanced Study in the Humanities and Social Sciences (NIAS), and I would like to express my gratitude to the rector, staff and fellows of NIAS for providing an ideal and friendly environment for research. It is further a great pleasure to thank the following libraries, where I have spent many hours looking at manuscripts and gathering material: the Bibliothèque royale Albert I, Brussels; the University Library, Cambridge; the University and National Library, Jerusalem; the Universiteitsbibliotheek, Leiden; the Bodleian Library, Oxford; the Bibliothèque National de France, Paris; and the Biblioteca Apostolica, Vatican City. I should also like to thank my friends and colleagues, particularly Mayke de Jong, Mary Garrison, Amnon Linder, Rob Meens, Jinty Nelson, Walter Pohl, and Ian Wood, with whom I have discussed various issues related to cultural history of early medieval Europe. Rosamond McKitterick, my mentor and ever-invaluable oracle on many matters, as well as Elena Lourie and Robert Stacy have all read a draft of the entire book, x

Preface xi

and I am grateful for their advice and helpful comments. Needless to say, none of them is responsible for this study’s shortcomings, or for the views expressed in it. I owe a special debt of gratitude to Miri Rubin for her friendship and support. The seeds of this book were sown when Miri suggested in 1999 that I should write something for her new series, and ever since she accompanied my long struggle with Theoderic, Thrasamund, Dagobert and Sisebut with motherly patience and prudent advice. She also read the entire manuscript with great care, and saved me from a multitude of errors and embarrassments. Thanks should also go to the staff of Palgrave Macmillan, especially Ruth Ireland and Ann Marangos, who saw the book through the press. Finally, I should like to thank my family, especially my wife, Racheli, for her unwavering support, and Nadav for being himself. To him, with the utmost love and affection, I dedicate this book.

Note on copyright The author and publishers have made every attempt to contact copyright holders. If any have inadvertently been overlooked, the appropriate arrangements will be made at the first opportunity.

List of Abbreviations

AASS BM BnF Brunhölzl

CAH XIII, XIV

CCCM CCSL CHCL

ChLA

CLA

CSEL LBL MGH AA Cap.

Acta Sanctorum (Antwerp and Brussels, 1643–) Bibliothèque Municipale Bibliothèque nationale de France F. Brunhölzl, Histoire de la littérature latine du Moyen Age, I – De Casiodore à la fin de la renaissance carolingienne; 1 – L’époque mérovingienne, trans. H. Rochais, with a bibliographical update by J.-P. Bouhot (Turnhout, 1990); 2 – L’époque carolingienne, trans. H. Rochais, with a bibliographical update by J.-P. Bouhot (Turnhout, 1991) Cambridge Ancient History, XIII – The Later Empire, AD 337–425, ed. A. Cameron and P. Garnsey (Cambridge, 1998); XIV – Late Antiquity: Empire and Successors, AD 425–600, ed. A. Cameron, B. Ward-Perkins and M. Whitby (Cambridge, 2000) Corpus Christianorum, Continuatio Mediaevalis (Turnhout, 1966–) Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina (Turnhout, 1952–) Cambridge History of Classical Literature, II – Latin Literature, ed. E.J. Kenney and W.V. Clausen (Cambridge, 1982) Chartae latinae antiquiores: Facsimile Edition of the Latin Charters prior to the Ninth Century, ed. A. Bruckner and R. Marichal (Olten and Lausanne, 1954–) Codices Latini Antiquiores: A Palaeographical Guide to Latin Manuscripts Prior to the Ninth Century, 11 vols with a supplement (Oxford, 1935–71; 2nd edn of vol. II,1972) Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum (Vienna, 1866–) Loeb Classical Library Monumenta Germaniae Historica Auctores Antiquissimi (Berlin, 1877–1919) Capitularia regum Francorum (Hannover, 1883– 1897) xii

List of Abbreviations

Epp. LNG Poetae SRG SRL SRM SS MW NCMHI, II OCD ODCC PCBE

Patrologia PL PLRE SC Settimane Teubner

xiii

Epistulae (Berlin, 1887–1939) Leges nationum Germanicarum (Hannover, 1888–) Poetae latini medii aevi (Berlin, 1881–1951) Scriptores rerum Germanicarum in usum scholarum (Hannover, 1871–) Scriptores rerum Langobardicarum et Italicarum (Hannover, 1878) Scriptores rerum Merovingicarum (Hannover, 1884–1951) Scriptores in folio (Berlin, 1826–) Miscellanea Wisigothica, ed. J. Gil, Filosofia y Letras (Seville, 1972) New Cambridge Medieval History, I – c.500–700, ed. P. Fouracre (Cambridge, 2005); II – c.700–900, ed. R. McKitterick (Cambridge, 1995) Oxford Classical Dictionary, ed. S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth, 3rd rev. edn (Oxford, 2003) Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. F.L. Cross and E.A. Livingsrone, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1997) Prosopographie chrétienne du Bas-Empire, I – Prosopographie de l’Afrique chrétienne (305–533), ed. A. Mandouze (Paris, 1982) Patrologia, VI – Dal Concilio di Calcedonia (451) a Beda, I Padri latini, ed. A. di Berardino (Genova, 1996) Patrologiae cursus completus, series latina, ed. J.-P. Migne, 221 vols (Paris, 1841–64) The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, II – A.D. 395–527, ed. J.R. Martindale (Cambridge, 1980) Sources chrétiennes (Paris, 1941–) Settimane di studio del Centro italiano di studi sull’alto medioevo (Spoleto, 1954–) Bibliotheca scriptorum Graecarum et Romanorum Teubneriana

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1 Introduction: A Series of Unfortunate Events

Since it is our concern that the conditions of our churches should always advance towards better things, we strive with vigilant zeal to restore the learning, almost destroyed by the sloth of our forefathers, and summon whom we can, even by our own example, to master the studies of the liberal arts.1 With these words, written shortly after 786 in a circular letter to the religious lectors,2 Charlemagne (d. 814) invited scholars, bishops and abbots, to improve the learning in his kingdom.3 Underlining the role of the king and his court, Charlemagne led a vigorous campaign to revive learning, that had, according to him, become practically defunct.4 Charlemagne’s patronage of learning served to enhance his 1 Karoli epistola generalis, ed. A. Boretius, MGH Capitularia regum Francorum I (Hannover, 1883), no. 30, p. 80. I cite (with minor changes) the English translation of P.D. King, Charlemagne: Translated Sources (Kendal, 1986), p. 208. On this letter, see T. Martin, ‘Bemerkungen zur Epistola de litteris collendis’, Archiv für Diplomatik 31 (1985), pp. 227–72. 2 The lectores were one of the minor orders of the Church’s ministry, whose main function was to read the Scriptures during mass. 3 The amount of literature on Charlemagne and his period is enormous and cannot be listed here. For some basic surveys, see NCMH, II; R. McKitterick, The Frankish Kingdoms under the Carolingians, 751–987 (London and New York, 1983); P. Riché, The Carolingians: A Family Who Forged Europe, trans. M.I. Allen (Philadelphia, 1993); R. Collins, Charlemagne (London and Toronto, 1998); M. Becher, Charlemagne, trans. D.S. Bachrach (New Haven and London, 2003). 4 On the so-called Carolingian Renaissance, see the splendid chapters by J.J. Contreni, ‘The Carolingian Renaissance: education and literary culture’, in NCMH, II, pp. 709–57; R. McKitterick, ‘The Carolingian renaissance of culture and learning’, in Charlemagne: Empire and Society, ed. J. Story (Manchester, 2005), pp. 151–66. See also the various papers in Carolingian Culture: Emulation 1

2

Whithorn Carlisle York London

e Rhin

Tours

Trier Paris Auxerre

Da

nub e

Poitiers Milan

Bordeaux Arles Marseilles Lisbon

Cordoba

Aquileia

Ravenna

Sirmium

Rimini Nursia Rome

Hippo

Carthage

Trapezus Serdica Gangra Neocaesarea Hadrianopolis Chalcedon Constantinople Nicomedia Amida Thessalonica Nicaea Ancyra Caesaria Cyzicus Nyssa Edessa Nazianzus Ephesus Laodicea Seleucia Antioch Side Athens Tyre

Bethlehem

Caesarea Jerusalem

Alexandria

Boundary of the Roman Empire

300 mi.

Map 1 The Roman Empire c. 300

Tabennisi

a Se

500 km.

0

d Re

0

Nisibis

A Series of Unfortunate Events

3

dignity by linking him with Roman imperial practices, and Carolingian propagandists stressed this feature of his reforms unashamedly. For eighth- and ninth-century writers it was axiomatic that Charlemagne had indeed revived learning after a long period of neglect and decline. Modern scholars, however, have noted that Charlemagne’s statement and the subsequent image of his patronage of learning were too sweeping and exaggerated. No doubt Charlemagne’s personal involvement and the grandiose scale in which he operated, created what we still call the ‘Carolingian Renaissance’. But one has to bear in mind that Charlemagne was not the only ruler to promote cultural and intellectual activity in his court, nor did his impetus spring out of the blue. It may well be that Charlemagne’s own awareness of the importance of learning at court was nurtured by models of active learning centres, not only in Rome and Byzantium, but also in the various Barbarian kingdoms that succeeded the Roman empire.5 Court and culture, so it seems, were bound together in the early medieval West as part of a common undeclared ideology of kingship, and it is precisely on this interesting issue that I wish to focus in the present book.

The dim view of early medieval culture The period between the third and the eighth century, once unjustly and anachronistically known as the ‘Dark Ages’, used to be seen – at

and Innovation, ed. R. McKitterick (Cambridge, 1994); The Gentle Voices of Teachers: Aspects of Learning in the Carolingian Age, ed. R.E. Sullivan (Columbus, OH, 1995). 5 I use the term ‘Barbarian’ to denote the various gentes (‘peoples’) that ‘invaded’ the Roman empire from the fourth century onwards, were settled by Roman authorities on Roman soil, and subsequently established their own independent or semi-independent kingdoms. I use this term in a non-pejorative way, and I prefer it to ‘German’ or ‘Germanic’, which were coined by nineteenth-century philologists who assumed a natural ethnic community. Modern studies in the field of ethnogenesis have clearly exposed the malleability and inaccuracy of such an understanding, not the least because the Barbarian groups were not ‘natural’ peoples or ethnic tribes, but motley collections of warriors under the leadership of a king. Hence, the term ‘Barbarian’ is nowadays preferred by most scholars. It is far beyond the scope of this study to go in detail into the various aspects of the ethnogenesis debate. For a succinct survey, see the various papers in On Barbarian Identity: Critical Approaches to Ethnicity in the Early Middle Ages, ed. A. Gillett, Studies in the Early Middle Ages 4 (Turnhout, 2002).

4 Roman Barbarians

least from the time of Petrarch (d. 1374) – as one of chaos and decline. Too often it was described by scholars as a period in which the rise of Christianity and the invasion of ‘hideous’ Barbarians brought the fall of the glorious Roman empire and inaugurated a long period of obscurity in the history of Europe and the Mediterranean. This widespread derogatory view is commonly, and not unjustly, associated with the name of the British historian Edward Gibbon (d. 1794). In 1776 Gibbon published the first edition of his monumental History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire,6 in which the rapid growth of early Christianity, superstitions and supernatural considerations, violence and chaos within the Roman empire itself, and the invasions of ‘uncivilised’ Barbarians loom large. According to Gibbon, the decline and fall of the Roman empire initiated a new age – the Middle Ages – marked by ‘the triumph of barbarism and religion’.7 Gibbon’s work has been subject to endless criticism and revision since its publication. Yet, the influence of the Decline and Fall on many a generation of British and European historians was immense, not the least because ‘Gibbon had established the terms of reference for the debate about the transformation of the Roman world and the emergence of medieval Europe’.8 The reasons for the dim view that dominated the study of early medieval Europe in the past are complex. In part the Barbarians had fared badly because of the Humanists’ feelings of superiority, which characterised modern historiography from the time of the Italian Renaissance onwards. Petrarch, the so-called ‘father of Humanism’, was the first to formulate these feelings in writing, but he was certainly not the only one. Subsequent scholars duly followed suit. Leonardo Bruni (d. 1444) and Flavio Biondo (d. 1463) divided the past into Antiquity and an

6 E. Gibbon, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, 6 vols (London, 1776–1788). The work was later edited by H.H. Milman (London, 1846); J.B. Bury (London, 1897–1901; 2nd edn 1909–1914); O. Smeaton (London, 1910); and more recently by D. Womersley (London, 1995; rep. Harmondsworth, 1996). 7 On Gibbon and his life, see the short biography by R. Porter, Gibbon. Making History (London, 1988). On his views and attitudes, see Edward Gibbon and the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ed. G.W. Bowersock, J. Clive and S.R. Graubard (Cambridge, MA, 1977); Historische Forschung im 18. Jahrhundert, ed. K. Hammer and J. Voss (Paris, 1988); and more recently Edward Gibbon and Empire, ed. R. McKitterick and R. Quinault (Cambridge, 1997). 8 R. McKitterick and R. Quinault, ‘Introduction’, in Edward Gibbon and Empire, ed. McKitterick and Quinault, pp. 1–11, at p. 2.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

5

intermediate period between Antiquity and their present;9 and in 1469 the expression media tempestas (that is, ‘the Middle Ages’), with the full pejorative connotations that this term entails, was coined by Giovanni Andrea Bussi (d. 1475), Pope Sixtus IV’s librarian.10 Consequently, early medieval societies have been too often examined through the prism of classical culture and patristic theology, which, important and illuminating as it is, does not enlighten us about the cultural or religious situation of the Barbarian kingdoms themselves, nor does it give full credit to the achievements of the period. For example, in the late fifth century, Sidonius Apollinaris (d. c. 485), a distinguished member of the Gallo-Roman senatorial aristocracy,11 was revolted by the smell and the noise of a group of Burgundians who were established by the Roman authorities on his estate. He was disgusted by the fact that they ate garlic and onions for breakfast, and that they spread rancid butter on their hair.12 He even ridiculed a good friend of his for communicating with the Barbarians, calling him ‘a new Solon of the Burgundians’.13 Sidonius, the famous senator from the Auvergne, who served as the praefectus urbi (‘prefect of the city’, that is, of Rome) in 468–9 and was later nominated to the bishopric of Clermont, was perceived by historians as a respectable representative of late-antique Romanitas. Consequently, his biased views were silently adopted, and his disparaging remarks were happily cited as proof of the low, barbaric and uncivilised habits of the Barbarians who invaded the western provinces of the Roman empire. Yet, Sidonius, it seems, was perhaps unaware of, or maybe aware but completely indifferent to, the fact that the Burgundians in his backyard were at the same time composing the Lex Burgundionum, one of the first written law

9 For a useful survey, see P. Delogu, An Introduction to Medieval History, trans. M. Moran (London, 2002), pp. 13–58. 10 See his introduction (dated 28 November, 1469) to Apuleius, reprinted in G.A. Bussi, Prefazioni alle edizioni di Sweynheym e Pannartz, prototipografi romani, ed. M. Miglio, Documenti sulle arti del libro 12 (Milan, 1978), pp. 11–19, at p. 17. See also T. Ricklin, ‘Giovanni Andrea Bussi und die media tempestas oder was die Geschichte von einem Esel lehrt’, International Zeitschrift für Philosophie 2 (2004), pp. 5–47. 11 On Sidonius Apollinaris, see J. Harries, Sidonius Apollinaris and the Fall of Rome (Oxford, 1994). 12 Sidonius Apollinaris, Poems and Letters, Carm. 12, lines 1–18, ed. and trans. W.B. Anderson, LCL, 2 vols. (Cambridge, MA and London, 1936–65), I, pp. 212–13. 13 Sidonius Apollinaris, Poems and Letters, Ep. V.5.3, ed. and trans. Anderson, vol. II, p. 182–3.

6 Roman Barbarians

codes of early medieval Europe, which relies heavily on Roman legal traditions.14 Another example of the inadequacy of the classical prism regarding the Barbarian peoples can be found in the writings of Gregory of Tours (d. c. 594), the most prolific author known to us from Merovingian Gaul.15 Gregory wrote Latin, but it was not the classical Latin of Caesar or Cicero. It was a different kind of Latin, which tended towards colloquial speech, which classicists love to name sermo rusticus or Vulgar Latin.16 Even worse, Gregory, who was well aware of the fact that his Latin was not as sophisticated and pure as that of Cicero, apologises for it. In the preface to his Ten Books of History, he writes:    I have written this work to keep alive the memory of those dead and gone, and to bring them to the notice of future generations. My style is not very polished.    All the same, I have been greatly encourage by certain kind remarks which, to my no small surprise, I have often heard by our folk, to the effect that few people understand a rhetorical speechifier, whereas many can follow a blunt speaker.17 In the preface to his Life of Saint Martin of Tours, Gregory tells that after being urged by his mother to write more quickly, he excused himself by arguing that he was unlearned, unskilled and incompetent in writing. To this his mother answered: ‘Do you not know that because of people’s ignorance the manner in which you can speak is considered [to be]

14 On the Burgundian Law, see I.N. Wood, ‘Dispute in late fifth- and sixthcentury Gaul: some problems’, in The Settlement of Disputes in Early Medieval Europe, ed. W. Davies and P. Fouracre (Cambridge 1986), pp. 7–22, at p. 10; P. Amory, ‘The meaning and purpose of ethnic terminology in the Burgundian laws’, Early Medieval Europe 2 (1993), pp. 1–28. 15 The amount of literature on Gergory of Tours is enormous, and cannot be listed here. For a general introduction, see I.N. Wood, Gregory of Tours (Bangor, 1994); M. Heinzelmann, Gregory of Tours: History and Society in the Sixth Century, trans. C. Carroll (Cambidge, 2001). See also the various papers in The World of Gregory of Tours, ed. K. Mitchell and I.N. Wood (Leiden, Boston and Cologne, 2002) 16 The best study of Gregory’s Latin, is still M. Bonnet, Le latin de Grégoire de Tours (Paris, 1890). 17 Gregory of Tours, Decem Libri Historiarum, praefatio, ed. B. Krusch and W. Levison, MGH SRM I.1 (Hannover, 1951), p. 1. I cite the English translation of L. Thorpe, Gregory of Tours: History of the Franks (Harmondsworth, 1974), p. 63.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

7

comprehensible to us?’18 Furthermore, in the preface to his Glory of the Confessors, Gregory elaborates on precisely the same topic: It is shameful for a man who is foolish, fraudulent, ignorant, and lazy to undertake what he cannot accomplish. But what am I to do?    because I do not posses the arts of rhetoric or the skill of grammar, I am afraid that when I have begun to write educated men will criticise me: ‘O ignorant and uneducated man, why do you think that this work is to be accepted by experts? Familiarity with style does not support you, nor does any knowledge of literature assist you.    Do you think it is proper for a lumbering ox to play at some game in the exercise yard or a sluggish donkey to dash among the ranks of a ball game in swift flight? Or can a raven indeed conceal his blackness with the wings of white doves? Just as it is impossible for these events to happen, so of course you cannot be ranked with other writers’.19 One must constantly bear in mind that such reservations did not deter Gregory of Tours from writing; and he did write in abundance. Yet, Gregory’s robust self-criticism caught the eye of many scholars, who then used it to bolster their views on the low standards of Merovingian education and culture.20 It is true that by the time of Gregory the traditional Roman education system in Gaul had largely disappeared, or survived only in modified form.21 Gregory himself, for instance, was not much familiar with classical authors, apart from Virgil.22 Nevertheless, Latin texts continued to be studied and written in Merovingian Gaul, as Gregory’s own works, the 18 Gregory of Tours, Libri de virtutibus sancti Martini episcopi, I.praefatio, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM I.2 (Hannover, 1885), p. 136. I cite the translation of R. Van Dam, Saints and their Miracles in Late Antique Gaul (Princeton, 1993), p. 200. 19 Gregory of Tours, Liber in Gloria confessorum, praefatio, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM I.2 (Hannover, 1885), pp. 297–8. I cite the English translation of R. Van Dam, Gregory of Tours: Glory of the Confessors (Liverpool, 1988), p. 16. 20 The most influential study in this respect, is E. Auerbach, Mimesis. The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, trans. W. Trask (Princeton, 1953), pp. 67–83. 21 See especially P. Riché, Education and Culture in the Barbarian West from the Sixth Through the Eighth Century, trans. J.J. Contreni (Columbia, SC, 1976), pp. 177–291. 22 See Bonnet, Le latin de Grégoire de Tours, pp. 48–76; G. Kurth, Études franques, 2 vols (Brussels, 1919), I, pp. 1–29.

8 Roman Barbarians

poems of Venantius Fortunatus (d. c. 603), the numerous Merovingian saints’ lives, and the various legal texts and charters bear witness.23 Moreover, the pessimism expressed by Gregory in his opening remarks was, in fact, a widespread literary convention, frequently used by the cultural elite of the period.24 The biographers of Caesarius of Arles (d. 542), for instance, wrote at the beginning of his vita that ‘if it should happen that we, as simple narrators, attract the attention and judgements of scholars, they [should] not criticize us on the grounds that our style lacks ornate diction and correct grammar’.25 Baudonivia, the biographer of Saint Radegund (d. 587), complained that the task of writing Radegund’s biography ‘should be assigned to those who have fountains of eloquence within them. For whatever such people are commissioned to write is laid out generously in flowing song’, while she herself is ‘weak-minded and [has] but few intelligent things to say’.26 And the author of the Passio Leudegarii, to give just another example, wrote right at the beginning of his work: At last I have set out to write the life of the blessed Leudegar (d. 678), martyr and bishop, having frequently been requested by you [i.e. Bishop Hermenar of Autun] to do so and having been driven on by the holy insistence of my spiritual brethren. I held back from obeying your command and entreaty for so long as I foresaw a twofold criticism raised against me: firstly I was afraid of my fog-like ignorance and unworthiness, and secondly I dreaded being exposed to the derision of wise men.27 23 See Y. Hen, Culture and Religion in Merovingian Gaul, AD 481–751 (Leiden, New York and Cologne, 1995), pp. 21–42; I.N. Wood, ‘Administration, law and culture in Merovingian Gaul’, in The Uses of Literacy in Early Medieval Europe, ed. R. McKitterick (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 63–81. 24 See T. Janson, Latin Prose Prefaces: Studies in Literary Convention (Stockholm, 1964), pp. 124–41 25 Cyprian, Firminus, Viventius, Messianus and Stephanus, Vita Caesarii episcopi Arelatensis libri duo, I.2, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM III (Hannover, 1896), p. 457. I cite the English translation of W.E. Klingshirn, Caresarius of Arles: Life, Testament, Letters (Liverpool, 1994), p. 9. 26 Baudonivia, Vita sanctae Radegundis, praefatio, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), pp. 377–8. I cite the English translation from Sainted Women of the Dark Ages, ed. and trans. J.A. McNamara, J.E. Halborg and E.G. Whatley (Durham and London, 1992), p. 86. 27 Passio Leudegarii I, praefatio, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM V (Hannover, 1910), p. 282. I cite the translation from P. Fouracre and R. Gerberding, Late Merovingian France: History and Hagiography, 640–720 (Manchester, 1996), p. 215.

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These examples suffice to demonstrate that Gregory of Tours was not alone, nor was he the odd one out in his awareness of relative loss of Latin skill and erudition. Ignoring the fact that these and similar declarations were a mere rhetorical topos of humility, found in the prefaces of almost all the Latin texts from the sixth and the seventh century, scholars cite Gregory as the example par excellence for the shameful state to which Latin literature and Roman education had deteriorated at the hands of the Barbarians. Indeed, when compared with the pure classical Latin of Cicero, Gregory’s Latin seems, to paraphrase some of his critics, coarse and barbaric, obeying no rules of syntax and orthography. But why should we expect Latin to remain stagnant and unchanged during the six hundred years that separate Gregory of Tours from Cicero? Should Cicero really be the yardstick according to which Gregory’s Latin is to be measured? It would be just like saying that modern English is crude and barbaric, obeying no rules of syntax and orthography, and with a colossal amount of ‘invented’ new words, simply because it is so far removed from the language of Chaucer. Fortunately research has moved forward, and modern scholars are becoming more and more aware of the faults in such a comparison, which encompasses the bias and shortcomings of Renaissance and Humanistic thought. Recent works, especially by Roger Wright and Michel Banniard, have established quite convincingly that Latin was indeed the spoken language in Gaul throughout the early Middle Ages, up to the late eighth, and maybe well into the ninth century.28 Similarly, a detailed analysis of Gregory’s Latin reveals him ‘as an author whose orthography and morphology may have been shaky, but whose grasp of rhetoric remained strong’. His basic vocabulary is indeed relatively unadorned, with a tendency to metaphor and biblical expressions; but nevertheless his prose seems to be carefully structured, abounds in the effective use of rhetorical figures, and with considerable attention to effects of metric and prose rhythm, which, for Gregory, were closely interrelated.29 Far from representing an age

28 See, for example, R. Wright, Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France (Liverpool, 1982); Latin and the Romance Languages in the Early Middle Ages, ed. R. Wright (London and New York, 1991); M. Banniard, Viva Voce. Communication écrite et communication orale du IVe au IXe siècle en Occident latin (Paris, 1992); idem, ‘Language and communication in Carolingian Europe’, in NCMH, II, pp. 695–708. 29 I cite and paraphrase N. Wright, ‘Columbanus’s Epistulae’, in Columbanus: Studies on the Latin Writings, ed. M. Lapidge (Woodbridge, 1997), pp. 29–92, at pp. 38–9.

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of obscurity and decline, Gregory’s Latin is perceived nowadays as an eloquent witness to the vitality and creativity of early medieval culture, which should be approached and understood on its own terms.30 Any comparison with the glorious achievements of the Roman past is simply a badly phrased question. It would be unfair, and rather simplistic, however, to put all the blame on Humanistic thought and classical scholarship. One has to acknowledge that the disparaging views of the early Middle Ages, whether one finds them in eighteenth-century scholarship or in twentieth-century publications, are also derived from and shaped by the available sources – sources which are, paradoxically, both our means for and our chief obstacle to an understanding of early medieval culture and society. For example, in his book De gubernatione Dei (‘On the Governance of God’), the priest Salvian of Marseilles (d. c. 480) wrote that: The Gothic nation is lying, but chaste. The Alani are unchaste, but they lie less. The Franks lie, but they are generous. The Saxons are savage in cruelty, but admirable in chastity. In short, all peoples have their own particular bad habits, just as they have certain good habits. Among almost all Africans, I know not one who is not evil. If they are to be accused of inhumanity, they are inhuman; if of drunkenness, they are drunkards; if of forgery, they are the greatest of forgerers; if of deceit, they are the most deceitful; if of cupidity, they are most greedy; if of treachery, they are the most treacherous. Their impurities and blasphemies must not be mentioned here, because in the evils about which I have just spoken they have surpassed the evils of other races, but in impurity and blasphemy they have even surpassed themselves.31 Such a statement accords extremely well with the Humanist image of the Barbarians. This and similar disparaging remarks, which undoubtedly boosted the Humanists’ superiority complex, shaped the way scholars saw the Barbarians and their culture. Gregory of Tours, to give a different example, is our main, and sometimes our sole, informant on many matters Merovingian. The image

30 Heinzelmann, Gregory of Tours, pp. 94–101. 31 Salvian of Marseilles, De gubernatione Dei, VII.xvi.64, ed. and trans. G. Lagarrigue, SC 220 (Paris, 1975), p. 476. I cite the English translation of J.F. O’Sullivan, The Writings of Salvian the Presbyter, The Fathers of the Church (Washington, DC, 1947), p. 207.

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of Merovingian Gaul that emerges from his Ten Books of History, not least the bloody feuds within the Frankish royal family, is a remarkable reading by a single author. It deserves to be taken seriously, as indeed it has been in the last century, but it should also be understood for what it is: one author’s view, influenced by his experience as the bishop of one arguably eccentric place, the city of Tours. As Ian Wood pointed out, Gregory ‘is too much of an individual to be a reliable guide to the norms of the sixth century’.32 The bias in our sources becomes even more obvious in later periods, primarily because of the damnatio memoriae (‘damnation of memory’) to which the Barbarian peoples of the early Middle Ages were subjected by their immediate successors, namely the Carolingians and the Byzantines. For example, it is a well-known fact, widely acknowledged by scholars, that pro-Carolingian propaganda was created and disseminated by the Carolingians, their supporters and scholars.33 Its purpose was to undermine and discredit the Merovingian dynasty and legitimate the Carolingian usurpation. It is enough to compare the Continuator of Fredegar’s description of Childeric II (d. 675) as ‘altogether too light and frivolous’,34 to that of the Pippinid Grimoald (d. 662), ‘the mildest of men, full of kindness and gentleness,    generous in almsgiving and constant in prayer’,35 to realise that by the beginning of the eighth century, authors were already influenced by that imagebuilding and self-promotion campaign.36 This tendency intensified under Carolingian rule, and it can be observed in many of the narrative sources from the Carolingian period.37 Its most famous representation 32 I.N. Wood, ‘The individuality of Gregory of Tours’, in The World of Gregory of Tours, ed. Mitchell and Wood, pp. 28–46, at p. 46. 33 On the Carolingian propaganda, see Hen, Culture and Religion in Merovingian Gaul, pp. 197–205; idem, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy in Frankish Gaul to the Death of Charles the Bald (877), Henry Bradshaw Society, subsidia 3 (London, 2001), especially pp. 89–95, and see there for further bibliography. 34 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus cum continuationibus, Cont. 2, ed. and trans. J.M. Wallace-Hadrill (London, 1960), p. 81. 35 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, Cont. 6, ed. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 86. 36 On Fredegar and his continuators, see R. Collins, Fredegar, Authors of the Middle Ages 13 (Aldershot, 1996), pp. 32–7. 37 See Y. Hen, ‘The Annals of Metz and the Merovingian Past’, in The Uses of the Past in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Y. Hen and M. Innes (Cambridge, 2001), pp. 175–90; R. McKitterick, History and Memory in the Carolingian World (Cambridge, 1994), especially pp. 120–32. See also T. Shippey, ‘The Merov(ich)ingian again: damnatio memoriae and the usus scholarum’, in Latin Learning and English Lore. Studies in Anglo-Saxon Literature for Michael Lapidge, ed. K. O’Brien O’Keffe and A. Orchard, 2 vols (Toronto, Buffalo and London,

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is, of course, Einhard’s description of the last Merovingian kings at the very beginning of his Life of Charlemagne: The family of the Merovingians, from which the Franks used to make their kings, is thought to have lasted down to king Childeric, whom Pope Stephen ordered deposed. His hair was shorn and he was forced into a monastery. Although it might seem that the [Merovingian] family ended with him, it had in fact been without any vitality for a long time and [had] demonstrated that there was nothing of any worth in it except the empty name of ‘king’. For both the riches and power of the kingdom were in the possession of the prefects of the palace, who were called the mayors of the palace, and to them fell the highest command. Nothing was left for the king [to do] except sit on his throne with his hair long and his beard uncut, satisfied [to hold] the name of king only and pretending to rule. [Thus] he listened to representatives who came from various lands and, as they departed, he seemed to give them decisions of his own, which he had [in fact] been taught or rather ordered [to pronounce]. Except for the empty name of ‘king’ and a meagre living allowance, which the prefect of the court extended to him as it suited him, he possessed nothing else of his own but one estate with a very small income. On that estate, he had a house and servants who ministered to his needs and obeyed him, but there were few of them. He travelled about on a cart that was pulled by yoked oxen and led, as happens in the countryside, by a herdsman to wherever he needed to go. In this way he used to go to the palace and so also to the public assembly of his people, which was held annually for the good of the kingdom, and in this manner he also returned home. But it was the prefect of the court who took care of everything, either at home or abroad, that needed to be done and arranged for the administration of the kingdom.38 Much ink has been spilt over the years in an attempt to decipher Einhard’s multi-layered caricature of the last Merovingian kings. This is not the place to run through all the interesting insights and 2005), I, pp. 389–406. The same tendency can also be observed in the false king-lists and genealogies from the Carolingian period; see O.G. Oexle, ‘Die Karolinger und die Stadt der heiligen Arnulf’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien 1 (1967), pp. 250–364, at pp. 252–79. 38 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni, c. 1, ed. O. Holder-Egger, MGH SRG 25 (Hannover, 1911), pp. 2–3. I cite the English translation by P.E. Dutton, Charlemagne’s Courtier. The Complete Einhard (Peterborough, 1998), pp. 16–17.

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thought-provoking ideas put forward by scholars.39 But, it is certainly the place to note that Einhard’s account became the standard textbook description of the last Merovingians – les rois fainéants (‘the donothing kings’), as they were called in French historiography until recently.40 This distorted picture of Merovingian kingship was inherited by medieval and subsequently by modern scholars and lay-people alike.41 Einhard’s derision towards Childeric III (d. after 751) and his immediate ancestors is, most probably, the most influential and longlasting piece of Carolingian propaganda that was ever produced. A similar situation can also be observed in our sources from the Byzantine East. According to Procopius of Caesarea (d. after 562), to give just one example, the Franks ‘   though they have become Christians, preserve the greater part of their ancient religion; for they still make human sacrifices and other sacrifices of an unholy nature, and it is in connection with these that they make their prophecies’.42 Although his presentation of the Franks is coloured by the strong tradition of ethnographic writing about Barbarians,43 Procopius’ general prejudice is obvious. From the fifteenth century onwards, Procopius’ narrative provided the basis for the history of sixth-century Byzantium and consequently, as pointed out by Averil Cameron, ‘Justinian and his contemporaries have come to be seen as larger than life, the reign as a supreme effort at the restoration of Roman glory on the eve of the coming of Islam and the Dark Ages, or else as a vain attempt by jaded imperial arms to hold back the new vigour of Germanic nations. Whatever the view, Procopius has provided the material’.44 Needless to say, Procopius also provided modern scholars with a rather critical 39 See, for example, A. Gauert, ‘Noch einmal Einhard und die letzten Merowinger’, in Institutionen, Kultur und Gesellschaft im Mittelalter. Festschrift für Josef Fleckenstein zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, ed. L. Fenske (Sigmaringen, 1983), pp. 85–103. 40 See T. Kölzer, ‘Die letzten Merowinger: rois fainéants?’, in Der Dynastiewechsel von 751. Vorgeschichte, Legitimationsstrategien und Erinnerung, ed. M. Becher and J. Jarnut (Münster, 2004), pp. 33–60. 41 See, for example, McKitterick, History and Memory, pp. 133–7. 42 Procopius, De Bello Gothico II.xxv.9–10 = Procopius, History of the Wars, VI.xxv.9–10, ed. and trans. H.B. Dewing, LCL, 7 vols. (Cambridge, MA and London, 1914–28), IV, p. 87. On this passage, see A. Cameron, Procopius and the Sixth Century (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1985), pp. 210–13. 43 See Cameron, Procopius, pp. 218–19. See also H. Ditten, ‘Zu Prokop Nachrichten über die deutschen Stämme’, Byzantinoslavica 36 (1971), pp. 1–24; and compare with A. Kaldellis, Procopius of Caesarea: Tyranny, History, and Philosophy at the End of Antiquity (Philadelphia, 2004), pp. 17–45. 44 Cameron, Procopius, p. 262.

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view of Justinian (d. 565), which accorded extremely well with Gibbon’s concept of ‘decline and fall’.45 It took more than a century for historians to break away from ‘Gibbon’s shade’.46 Only at the beginning of the twentieth century, both in Austria and in Belgium, Alfons Dopsch (d. 1953) and Henri Pirenne (d. 1935) developed new theories, which challenged Gibbon’s views by shifting attention from military and political history to cultural and economic developments.47 Consequently, both Dopsch and Pirenne concluded that the Germanic migration and settlement of the fifth and the sixth centuries did not cause a major disruption in the cultural and economic life of most provinces of the Roman empire. Continuity rather than ‘decline and fall’ characterised the transformation of the later Roman world.48 Although both theories aroused much controversy and, in many respects, need to be fundamentally revised and modified, Dopsch and Pirenne opened up new perspectives and laid the foundation for a critical reconsideration of the transition between the world of Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages. Following the pioneer enterprises of Dopsch and Pirenne, there has been an increasing scholarly interest, especially in the last thirty years, in issues related to the transformation of the Roman world – a resurgence of interest, which has resulted in a better understanding of the period.49

45 See A. Cameron, ‘Gibbon and Justinian’, in Edward Gibbon and Empire, ed. McKitterick and Quinault, pp. 34–52. 46 I borrow the expression from P. Brown, ‘In Gibbon’s shade’, New York Review of Books 23 (1976), pp. 14–18 [reprinted in idem, Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Los Angeles and Oxford, 1982), pp. 49–62]. 47 See A. Dopsch, Wirtschaftliche und soziale Grundlagen der europäischen Kulturentwicklung von der Zeit Caesars bis auf Karl den Großen, 2nd edn (Vienna, 1923–24); H. Pirenne, Mahomet et Charlemagne, 2nd edn (Brussels and Paris, 1937). Pirenne’s book was published posthumously, but his thesis was developed in a series of papers that was published from the early 1920s onwards. 48 It was Lynn T. White who first formulated the concept of ‘the transformation of the Roman world’, which successfully replaced Gibbon’s vision of ‘decline and fall’. The Transformation of the Roman world. Gibbon’s Problem after Two Centuries, ed. L.T. White (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1966). 49 This resurgence of interest is best reflected in the laudable project entitled ‘The Transformation of the Roman World’ (sponsored by the European Science Foundation) and the series of books that came out of it (published under the title: The Transformation of the Roman World). On this project, see I.N. Wood, ‘Report: The European Science Foundation’s program on the transformation of the Roman world and the emergence of early medieval Europe’, Early Medieval Europe 6 (1997), pp. 217–27.

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It became a commonplace that Europe was not overrun by Barbarians in the fifth century, that the Barbarian states were freely installed by the Roman government, and that the Barbarian groups were not peoples or tribes, but motley collections of soldiers under the military leadership of a king. Unlike Gibbon’s Decline and Fall, modern scholarship is increasingly revealing how profoundly effective and dynamic were the shifts, which marked the transformation of the Roman world. Most, if not all, scholars in the past thirty years or so agree upon the fact that no major or absolute breaking point can be found. A slow process of transition and adaptation seems to have been the case and, subsequently, a greater degree of continuity in many respects was acknowledged by historians, archaeologists, and literary critics.50 Far from initiating an age of obscurity and decline, the various barbarian kingdoms which succeeded the Roman empire in the West saw themselves as part of a Roman continuum. This neat concept of transformation of the Roman world, however, was not accepted unanimously. In recent years several scholars have questioned its validity,51 and in 2005 two books with almost identical titles disagreed with it vehemently.52 Both Bryan Ward-Perkins and Peter Heather argue in their new books against the docile interpretations that describe the transformation of the Roman world as a slow and painless process of peaceful migration and accommodation. Both studies conclude, as one reviewer has so nicely phrased it, that ‘stuff happened, bad stuff, lots of it’.53 The events of the fourth and fifth centuries, according to them, smashed the Roman empire into pieces, and both revive in their studies the Gibbonian concept and idiom of

50 This shift in our understanding of the period is best manifested in the work of Peter Brown, especially in his ground-breaking book The World of Late Antiquity (London, 1971), and his more recent The Rise of Western Christendom, 2nd edn (Oxford, 2003). For some recent examples, see P. Garnsey and C. Humfress, The Evolution of the Late Antique World (Cambridge, 2001); M. McCormick, Origins of European Economy. Communication and Commerce, AD 300–900 (Cambridge, 2001); J.M.H. Smith, Europe after Rome. A New Cultural History, 500–1000 (Oxford, 2005), and the masterpiece by C. Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean, 400–800 (Oxford, 2005). 51 See, for example, J.H.W.G. Liebeschuetz, The Decline and Fall of the Roman City (Oxford, 2001); and see also some of the chapters in CAH XIII and XIV. 52 P. Heather, The Fall of the Roman Empire. A New History (London, 2005); B. Ward-Perkins, The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization (Oxford, 2005). 53 J.J. O’Donnell’s review of both books was published online in Bryn Mawr Classical Review, July 2005.

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‘decline and fall’. ‘[A] series of invasions at the start of the fifth century’, write Ward-Perkins, ‘plunged the West into a vicious spiral of devastation, loss of revenue, and bitter internecine strife – from which it never recovered’.54 ‘It was no mere transformation’, he adds, ‘it was decline on a scale that can reasonably be described as “the end of civilization” ’.55 We are back at catastrophe, destruction and chaos. Only time will tell whether this neo-Gibbonism will become the next textbook narrative of the passage from Antiquity to the Middle Ages; but I doubt it ever will. Things did happen in the fourth and fifth century, bad things, that changed the political, social, economic and cultural reality of the Roman world, and eventually inaugurated the Middle Ages. But these transformations must not be interpreted as ‘the fall of Rome and the end of civilization’. I still find the ‘transformation of the Roman world’ school more convincing, although, no doubt, it will also have to be modified, so that more violence, blood and suffering will be an integral part of the story.

The survival of early medieval culture in modern historiography The change in our perception and understanding of the passage from Antiquity to the Middle Ages, initiated by Dopsch and Pirenne, encouraged scholars in the twentieth century to re-examine the culture of the early medieval West. New questions were asked, a whole variety of hitherto unknown evidence was unveiled, and old sources were reinterpreted in the light of modern scholarship. The result was a major revision of commonly accepted notions. Although some found it hard to renounce their old convictions regarding the Barbarians, and in 1947 André Piganiol could still write that ‘it is far too convenient to claim that on the arrival of the Barbarians at the Roman empire, “everything was already dead, it was an exhausted body, a corpse lying in its own blood”, or just as well that the western Roman empire was not destroyed by a brutal shake, but rather “fell asleep”. The Roman civilisation did not die a natural death. It was assassinated’,56 many scholars saw things differently. Taking their cue from Dopsch, Pirenne and their followers, those who studied the cultural aspects of the passage from Antiquity to

54 Ward-Perkins, The Fall of Rome, p. 62. 55 Ward-Perkins, The Fall of Rome, p. 87. 56 A. Piganiol, Histoire Romaine, IV.2–L’empire chrétien (325–396) (Paris, 1947), pp. 421–2.

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the Middle Ages stressed the durable continuity of late Roman culture well into the early medieval period and, at the same time, delineated the prominent vitality and creativity of late antique and early medieval culture. A long tradition of historical and philological research that had started in the eighteenth century and, in many respects, was encouraged and stimulated by the Romantic movement,57 provided the basis for such a re-appraisal. The time was ripe, and Dopsch’s and Pirenne’s ‘revolutionary’ seeds fell on an extremely fertile ground. While scholars had rightly removed the Humanistic mantle and willingly expelled various preconceptions and prejudices, they soon found themselves stranded in new concepts that dictated the ways in which research has developed. In 1931 Max Ludwig Wolfram Laistner published his ground-breaking book, Thought and Letters in Western Europe, in which he clearly denounced the old views on early medieval culture. ‘No reasonably informed person’, he wrote in the preface to the first edition, ‘any longer believes in the “Dark Ages” – a prolonged period of hopeless barbarism succeeding on the fall of the Western Empire’.58 And yet the content and arrangement of Laistner’s book discloses some preconceived notions that were to dominate twentieth-century scholarship. First, is the notion that the early Middle Ages, or, as Laistner defines it, the period beginning with Boethius (d. 524) and ending with Bede (d. 735) and Boniface (d. 754), was nothing but a prolonged prelude to the so-called ‘Carolingian Renaissance’. Although he wrote that ‘apart from the immense and obvious debt that we owe to the Carolingian Age for the preservation of classical and post-classical Latin literature, that era and the centuries that preceded it were a formative period without which it is impossible either to understand or to explain the full achievement of medieval culture and its zenith’,59 the lion’s share of his book is dedicated to the Carolingian age. A second presumption, which is also embedded in Laistner’s study, is the fact that education and culture in late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages had moved steadily into the ecclesiastical orbit.60 Not only did Lainster point at that direction by concentrating on the intellectual and literary activities of bishops, monks, clerics and missionaries, he also said it rather clearly when introducing the Carolingian revival of education

57 For a short survey, see Delogu, An Introduction to Medieval History, pp. 25–53. 58 M.L.W. Laistner, Thought and Letters in Western Europe, A.D. 500 to 900 (London, 1931; rev. edn 1957), p. 5. 59 Laistner, Thought and Letters, p. 5. 60 See Laistner, Thought and Letters, especially pp. 85–185.

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and learning. ‘Several centuries’, he wrote, ‘had gone by during which the Church had been the sole repository of education and letters’.61 Hence the passage from Antiquity to the Middle Ages was also marked by the passage of intellectual life from the secular milieu to ecclesiastical institutions, or as Lewis Mumford had so nicely put it, ‘One by one the old classic lamps went out; one by one the new tapers of the Church were lighted’.62 This notion of cultural transformation was galvanised and ‘canonised’ by the French scholar Henri-Irénée Marrou. In 1938 Marrou published his doctoral thesis, Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique,63 in which he sought to delineate the transformation of classical Graeco-Roman culture into a Christian ‘medieval’ culture, by focusing on the writings and thought of Augustine, an outstanding representative of late antique civilisation. According to Marrou, ‘Augustine’s intellectual qualities prefigured those, which would dominate the culture of the medieval west’,64 first and foremost among them being the subordination of all forms of intellectual activity to the demands of the Christian faith.65 In his Histoire de l’éducation dans l’Antiquité, originally published in 1948, Marrou developed this notion of transition further, by dedicating the last two chapters of his book to the disappearance of classical schools and the emergence of the new ‘medieval’ ones, that is, the monastic and the cathedral schools.66 Marrou’s influence was immense, and his admirable studies shortly became standard reference books, used by all scholars who shaped our knowledge of late antique and early medieval culture and society.67

61 Laistner, Thought and Letters, p. 191. 62 L. Mumford, The Condition of Man (New York, 1944), p. 81. 63 H.-I. Marrou, Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique, 4th edn (Paris, 1958). First published in 1938 as vol. 145 of the series Bibliothèque des Ecoles Françaises d’Athènes et de Rome. The Retractatio, which is also reprinted in the 4th edn of the thesis, was originally published in 1949 as vol. 145bis of the same series. 64 Marrou, Saint Augustine et la fin de la culture antique, p. 541. 65 On Marrou’s thought, see M. Vessey, ‘The demise of the Christian writer and the remaking of “Late Antiquity”: From H.-I. Marrou’s Saint Augustine (1938) to Peter Brown’s Holy Man (1983)’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 6 (1998), pp. 377–411; P. Riché, Henri-Irénée Marrou: historien engagé (Paris, 2003). 66 H.-I. Marrou, Histoire de l’éducation dans l’Antiquité (Paris, 1948); English translation: A History of Education in Antiquity, trans. G. Lamb (Madison, 1956), pp. 314–39. 67 See, for example, The Conflict Between Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century, ed. A. Momigliano (Oxford, 1963); P. Brown, Augustine of Hippo: A

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A further step in this direction was made in 1962, with the publication of Pierre Riché’s comprehensive study, Éducation et culture dans l’Occident barbare.68 By that time, Marrou’s notions had already struck deep roots and dominated the narrative of late antique and early medieval cultural history. Riché’s book begins where Marrou’s History of Education in Antiquity left off. But, it is much more than a mere chronological continuation of Marrou’s study. Riché had clearly absorbed his master’s teaching, and throughout his book the culture of early medieval Europe is judged with a double classical-Carolingian yardstick. In his introduction Riché wrote that, ‘The triumph of the Barbarians would spell the end of Roman culture because, as a Christian poet noted, “the difference between a Roman and a Barbarian is the same as that between a biped and a quadruped, between a being gifted with speech and a mute brute” ’.69 He even went so far as to draw a cultural sub-division between the northern parts of Gaul, which he called ‘Barbarian Gaul’, and the south, which he called ‘Roman Gaul’. While the north, according to him, was less Romanised and therefore less keen on preserving Roman culture and tradition, the south was thoroughly Romanised and, led by the senatorial aristocracy, continued living in a Roman manner even under Merovingian rule.70 With Riché’s book, which, in many respects, is still the best study of education and culture in the Barbarian West, the evolution of the newly formed concept of early medieval culture was completed. Lainster’s premonitions became axioms and, consequently, early medieval culture was perceived as a mediating phase, in between classical Antiquity and the Carolingian revival. Although Riché showed much sensitivity and awareness of the various circumstances and changes across time and space, his survey tended to marginalize the cultural creativity and originality of the period. Moreover, for Riché the passage Biography (London, 1967; rev. edn Berkeley and Los Angeles, 2000); idem, TheWorld of Late Antiquity. 68 P. Riché, Éducation et culture dans l’Occident barbare, VIe–VIIIe siècle (Paris, 1962); English translation: Education and Culture in the Barbarian West from the Sixth Through the Eighth Century, trans. J.J. Contreni (Columbia, SC, 1976). 69 Riché, Education and Culture, p. 12, citing Prudentius, Contra Symmachum, II.816–17. 70 Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 177–83. See also idem, ‘Centres of culture in Frankish Gaul between the 6th and the 9th centuries’, in Early Medieval Society, ed. S. Thrupp (New York, 1967), pp. 211–36; idem, Écoles et enseignement dans la haut Moyen Age, 2nd edn (Paris, 1989). Needless to say, some of Riché’s assumptions were questioned by scholars in recent years; see, for example, Hen, Culture and Religion, pp. 5–6.

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of cultural activity into ecclesiastical centres was a fait accompli, and therefore he downplayed the secular elements in the emerging culture of the early medieval West. There is little room for doubt that gradual transformations did indeed take place. After all, the cultural environment of the Roman empire under Septimius Severus (d. 211) was significantly different from that of the Frankish kingdom under Charlemagne or the Byzantine empire of Constantine VI (d. 797) and Irene (d. 802). The rhetorical tradition, which formed the backbone of late-antique education, gradually lost its importance; the public schools slowly disappeared, whereas newly formed intellectual centres were established in various ecclesiastical institutions; and the rather secular (some would say ‘pagan’) curriculum increasingly gave way to a more Christian one. Changes and transformations were inevitable. Yet, the questions of how and how much they have changed the cultural setting of the late-antique and the early-medieval West are still open for debate. Having said that, the attempt to downplay the secular element and to see the four centuries that separate Theoderic from Charlemagne as a mere prelude to the Carolingian Renaissance is rather idiosyncratic. It is based on the anachronistic notion that ‘secular’ and ‘religious’ were two distinct parts of a dichotomy, and not two ends of a continuum with many grey areas and overlaps. It also assumes that no secular institution survived that was strong enough to accommodate, encourage, or even patronise culture in a significant way. And yet, combing through the sources from late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages, a more complex reality emerges. Changes did occur, but continuity was rather deeper and more significant than previously assumed. The old Roman tradition of patronising the arts, which reached its peak with the celebrated sponsorship offered by Maecenas and Augustus to poets and writers, did not disappear completely. It was kept alive throughout the period with which we are concerned, not only in Byzantium, but also in the post-Roman West, where the newly-formed aristocracy of the Barbarian kingdoms, and foremost among them the courts of kings, and subsequently ecclesiastical institutions and clergymen, adopted a similar cultural policy. This notion is neither new, nor as radical as it seems at first glance. In the epilogue to his new edition of Augustine of Hippo, Peter Brown wrote: I have lost nothing, over the years, of my original fascination with the rise of Christianity in the late Roman world. But, on looking

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back, I would say that I was unduly fascinated by the role played in that development by the Christian bishops. They were not the only agents in this process. At the time, however, it was natural to look first and foremost in their direction.71 The newly discovered sermons and letters of Augustine forced Brown, as he himself declares, to rethink the image of Augustine he portrayed in his magisterial book.72 Suddenly it became apparent that the bishop of Hippo, who, according to Marrou, epitomised the very essence of what ‘medieval’ culture was to become, lived and worked in a more fluid environment than we had thought. ‘The medieval Christendom to which Augustine’s thought contributed so heavily’, concludes Brown, ‘was still a long way away from the North Africa of Augustine’.73 This reappraisal of Augustine and his work was not merely the outcome of the recovery of new hitherto unknown sources. It was also nourished and made possible by the evolution and broadening of our historical perspective. Bearing in mind the huge advance in our knowledge of late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages, it is time to re-examine our notions of what early medieval culture might have been.

A word on the patronage of culture The following chapters will focus on four different western courts, in an attempt to delineate more clearly the place and the role of the royal court and its policy on the cultural activity that took place in each of the kingdoms. Although this is not a study of royal patronage, some words on the phenomenon of cultural patronage will be of use. In his pioneer analysis of medieval society, Marc Bloch regarded patronage as a universal phenomenon. ‘To seek a protector’, he writes, ‘or to find satisfaction in being one – these things are common to all ages’.74 Similarly, the patronage of culture is a universal phenomenon – universal across time, space and culture. There are plenty of examples for intensive artistic and literary patronage throughout history, from Queen Hatshapsut in Ancient Egypt, through Maecenas,75 Charlemagne and the Medici family, to modern heads of states and governors. In 71 72 73 74 75

Brown, Augustine of Hippo, p. 491 On these new findings, see Brown, Augustine of Hippo, pp. 441–81. Brown, Augustine of Hippo, p. 447. M. Bloch, Feudal Society, trans. L.A. Manyon (London, 1962), p. 147. Maecenas’s name even became synonymous with ‘patron’ in several European languages, such as French (mécène) and German (Mäzen).

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some cases patronage assumed substantial importance in the formation of a given culture and is analogous to the history of culture itself, whereas in other societies it was a marginal element. Yet, throughout Antiquity, the Middle Ages and the modern era rulers, clerics and wealthy aristocrats patronised artists and writers, and such acts of munificence were perceived as one of the obligations of a ruler or a rich person. A fundamental problem in analysing any act of cultural patronage is tracing its motivation. Patronage of culture, as we are told, ‘is emphatically not random aesthetic pleasure or arcane intellectual curiosity, but an organised and determined assembly and deployment of resources to carry out what appears to be specific aims and objectives’.76 In other words, patronage is an investment, and people patronise because they expect a return, either spiritual or temporal. A nice example from the Frankish kingdom is provided by Queen Balthild (d. 680) and her generous patronage of ecclesiastical institutions. As her anonymous biographer clearly states, she did it all ‘so that she might better entice them [i.e. the monks and the clergymen] to exhort the clemency of Christ, the highest king, for the king and for peace’.77 Although some political expediency might have influenced her actions, there is little place to doubt that religious piety, as her biographer clearly states, was a major impetus for the queen’s acts.78 Unfortunately, though, the motives behind many acts of patronage and sponsorship cannot always be firmly traced. Moreover, there is always the problem of matching the written evidence with surviving artefacts or literary works. An exceptional case in point is provided by the so-called Gundohinus Gospels. A rather lengthy colophon at the end of the manuscript provides some important information concerning the circumstances in which this codex was produced: In the name of the Holy Trinity, the kind mother of the family, Fausta, faithful endowed with the highest love, requested the

76 McKitterick, ‘Royal patronage of culture in the Frankish kingdoms under the Carolingians: motives and consequences’, in Committenti e produzione artistico-letteraria nell’alto medioevo occidentale, Settimane 39 (Spoleto, 1992), pp. 93–129, at p. 112 [reprinted in eadem, The Frankish Kings and Culture in the Early Middle Ages (Aldershot, 1994), ch. VII]. 77 Vita sanctae Balthildis, c. 9, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), p. 494. I cite the English translation of Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, p. 125. 78 On Balthild’s case, see Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy, pp. 37–9.

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accomplishment of this great work, in honour of Saint John and holy Mary Mother of Our Lord Jesus Christ. I Gundohinus, although unskilled, at the demand of the monk Fulculfus, not as I ought but at all events as I had the power, have taken care to accomplish this with the greatest love from the beginning to the end of its completion, because I wish rather to reveal my lack of expertise than to refuse his petition through a failure to obey. Just as he who placed in the open sea is desirous of a safe harbour, so is the writer of the final verses. I entreat you to pray for me, unskilled writer and sinner, as you would have propitiation and help before God. And you may direct something to me in your inspection, as I may better commemorate your name. Rejoice always in the Lord, you sisters who read this. Happily I executed this at Vosevio, in the month of July, in the third year of our most glorious King Pippin, who may reign in all ages and here and in eternity. Amen.79 Stripped of it effusive rhetorical topoi and piety, Gundohinus’ colophon is extremely informative. Although it leaves out some important information regarding the circumstances and motivation behind its production, it clearly states that the work was commissioned by a certain lady named Fausta, and that it was executed in Vosevio (wherever that might have been) in July 754. However, evidence such as this is extremely rare, and in most cases we remain ignorant about who commissioned certain works of art and literature, who produced them, and by what mechanism patronage was exercised. Another mystery is the economic aspect of the patronage of culture. Any discussion of cultural patronage assumes large investments in commissioning works of art and literature, and in recruiting artists, artisans, poets and scholars. But, unfortunately, our sources yield no information on this matter. There is abundant evidence that, throughout the Middle Ages, people frequently donated their wealth to ecclesiastical institutions in return for prayers on their behalf.80 Various charters, epitaphs, poems, vitae and historical compositions document these transactions, but none refers to the huge sums of money and material resources invested in the patronage of culture. We do not even

79 Autun, BM, MS 3, fol. 186r. I cite (with minor changes) the English translation of L. Nees, The Gunhohinus Gospels, Medieval Academy Books 95 (Cambridge, MA, 1987), p. 236. On the manuscript, see CLA VI.716, and see Nees’ comprehensive study. 80 I discuss this issue more fully in Chapter 4.

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know what was the price of a single manuscript, or how much money was required to convince a poet to write an encomium. No doubt the availability of material resources was a crucial prerequisite for the pursuit of patronage, and it was the privilege of those who possessed wealth to exercise patronage by commissioning works of art and literature. But equating patronage with a specific commission or a specific literary piece written on request, is too narrow and inadequate a definition. Patronage of culture did not necessarily involve commissioning particular objects or works. It could also be an encouraging, supporting or initiating force, which gave rise to artistic and literary creativity. This is not the place to go over the abundant theoretical literature on what is and what is not an act of patronage. It will suffice to note that a broad definition of patronage will be used in the present study.

Another word on the concept ‘culture’ ‘Culture’ is one of the most elusive concepts. It means different things to different people, and it consists of different things in different places and different times. No single clear-cut definition of ‘culture’ exists, and rehearsing the various philosophical, anthropological, sociological or historical attempts to define and re-define ‘culture’ is far beyond the scope of this study.81 I have found A.L. Kroeber and Clyde Kluckhohn’s statement, cited by Peter Burke, to be an excellent working definition. According to Kroeber and Kluckhohn, culture is ‘a system of shared meanings, attitudes and values, and the symbolic forms (performances and artefacts) in which they are expressed or embodied’.82 Bearing in mind that culture is dynamic and not self-generated,83 this definition is broad enough, and it does not limit our search for specific elements or phenomena within a society. Another concept embedded in the present study is the notion of culture as one expression of class relations, put forward by the French philosopher and sociologist Pierre Bourdieu (d. 2002). According to 81 For some overviews, see A. Kuper, Culture: The Anthropologists’ Account (Cambridge, MA, 1999); C.N. Nuckolls, Culture: A Problem that Cannot be Solved (Madison, 1998). 82 P. Burke, Popular Culture in Early Modern Europe (London, 1978), p. xi. See also A.L. Kroeber and C. Kluckhohn, Culture: A Critical Review of Concepts and Definitions (New York, 1963). 83 See R. Scribner, ‘Is a history of popular culture possible?’, History of European Ideas 10 (1989), pp. 175–91, at pp. 182 and 186.

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Bourdieu, culture and its various manifestations play a crucial role in the struggle over economic and political domination and hierarchy. As he wrote in one of his most influential studies, Taste is at the heart of these symbolic struggles, which go on at all times between the fractions of the dominant class and which would be less absolute, less total, if they were not based on the primary belief which binds each agent to his life-style. A materialistic reduction of preferences to their economic and social conditions of production and the social functions of the seemingly most disinterested practices must not obscure the fact that, in matters of culture, investments are not only economic but also psychological. Conflicts over art or the art of living, in which what is really at stake is the imposition of the dominant principle of domination within the dominant class – or, to put it another way, the securing of the best conversion rate for the type of capital with which each group is best provided – would not be so dramatic if they did not involve the ultimate values of the person, a highly sublimated form of interest.84 In other words, culture is both the means and the end. It is the weapon with which people fight, and at the same time it is the resources over which they fight and the arena in which they fight.85 Hence, my decision to focus on the royal court and the cultural activity associated with it was not arbitrary. Although the early Middle Ages had witnessed an immense resurgence of interest in recent decades, it is astonishing how rarely scholars have asked what the nature of early medieval culture was, and what place the royal court had in it. In the following chapters I shall explore exactly that question – the relationship between cultural activity and royal strategy – in an attempt to delineate more clearly some aspects of early medieval culture and society. I shall limit my investigation to written culture and literary activity in four different royal courts from the early Middle Ages – the Ostrogothic court of Theoderic the Great, the Vandal court of Thrasamund, the Frankish courts of Chlothar II and Dagobert, and the Visigothic court of Sisebut. Through the examination 84 P. Bourdieu, Distinctions. A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, trans. R. Nice (Cambridge, MA, 1984), p. 310. 85 On Bourdieu’s theory of culture, see B. Fowler, Pierre Bourdieu and Cultural Theory: Critical Investigation (London, 1997); D. Swarz, Culture and Power: The Society of Pierre Bourdieu (London, 1998); D. Robbins, Bourdieu and Culture (London, 2000).

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of various written records that survive – from legal documents, through the writing of history, hagiography and theology, to poetry – it will become clear how dynamic early medieval culture was. I shall conclude with a panoramic chapter that will examine the cultural activity in several eighth-century cultural centres that, together with the traditions that developed in the Barbarian West, might have contributed to the formation of Charlemage’s concept of cultural patronage. The decision to focus on literary culture was dictated mainly by the available material. Not only is the written evidence much more abundant than any other type of evidence, it is also much more suggestive on the topic with which we are concerned. The choice of courts, however, was rather more difficult. There are many other courtly examples I could have selected. But at the end I have decided on these particular courts because they provide an extremely interesting panorama of case studies. Each of them, as we shall see, developed its own peculiar cultural interests and literary predilections, and by analysing these we might get an unusual glimpse of some tensions and struggles within the society in question. Let us, then, look more closely at the four courts and their cultural framework.

2 Adaptation: The Ostrogothic Court of Theoderic the Great

The Ostrogothic invasion of Italy ins, perhaps, one of the most anomalous episodes in the history of the early medieval West. It clearly defies many of the notions that scholars have quietly come to accept in the past, and are now willing to question and reconsider. Let us, then, rehearse this story briefly, as it is the essential background to what follows. In 476, Romulus Augustulus, the last Roman emperor in the West, was deposed by Odoacer, a barbarian (probably of Scirian origins) military leader at the service of Rome. This event has provided many a generation of historians with a convenient date for the formal end of the western Roman empire, but in actuality the deposition of Romulus Augustulus was not such a radical break with the past, nor did it mark a significant break in the history of Italy or the other provinces of the Roman empire.1 The events of 476 merely endorsed an entrenched political reality, in which the central Roman government of the empire’s western provinces had gradually evaporated and given way to the manoeuvres of military leaders and local aristocrats. Odoacer’s coup, one should stress, was one of many in the course of the fifth century, and only with hindsight could it be recognised as a major change.2 Odoacer ruled Italy with the title of rex, after the more prestigious (and evidently more Roman) title of patricius was denied him by Emperor 1 On this issue, see D. Kagan, The End of the Roman Empire: Decline or Transformation?, 2nd edn (Lexington, MA, 1978); Ward-Perkins, The Fall of Rome; Heather, The Fall of the Roman Empire, esp. pp. 385–459; Smith, Europe After Rome; Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages. 2 See B. Croke, ‘A.D. 476, the manufacture of a turning point’, Chiron 13 (1983), pp. 81–119 [reprinted in idem, Christian Chronicles and Byzantine History (London, 1992), ch. V]. 27

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Aquileia Pavia Bobbio Ravenna Salona Spoleto

Rome Montecassino Nola Beneventum

Squillace

Sicily

Map 2 Italy c. 500

Zeno (474–91). He had, so it seems, no problem in accepting the sovereignty of the eastern Roman emperor, and in 477/8 he even sent the western imperial regalia back to Constantinople. Zeno, on the other hand, was less happy with the fact that an independent rex ruled Italy, but he was in no position to contest it. Numerous political and military difficulties troubled the Byzantine emperor at the time, first and foremost among them the pacification of several war bands in the Balkan provinces of Pannonia, Moesia and Thracia. One of these groups, which several of our sources call ‘Ostrogoths’, was lead by Theoderic, who, after spending ten years as a hostage at the imperial court of Constantinople, returned to the Balkans in 471 and led his soldiers in and out of alliance with Byzantium. No doubt, Theoderic and his people were a nuisance to the emperor at Constantinople, which was frequently under Gothic

Adaptation 29

siege during the 470s and 480s. Eventually, maybe in the hope of getting rid of Theoderic and his men, Emperor Zeno asked the Ostrogothic leader to invade Italy and restore it to the rule of the Byzantine emperor. Theoderic needed no further encouragement. In 488 he already turned west towards Italy, and by the end of 489 he secured control over the entire peninsula, apart from Ravenna, where Odoacer and his army barricaded themselves. Four years later, Ravenna opened its gates to Theoderic, who, after murdering Odoacer, was proclaimed king by his soldiers and people. He was the unrivalled ruler of Italy, and although at first the new Emperor Anastasius I (491–518) was reluctant to recognise his position, he later acknowledged Theoderic’s rule over the ancient home of the Roman empire, provided that the supremacy of the emperor at Constantinople was maintained. He even sent the western imperial insignia (ornamenta palatii), returned by Odoacer to Constantinople, to the Ostrogothic king.3 Theoderic’s reign in Italy, from 493 to his death in 526, has commonly been seen as a period of peace and prosperity.4 A series of panegyrists (to whom I shall refer later) sang the praise of the Ostrogothic king’s exceptional talent and outstanding reign already in his life-time, and less than three decades after his death, the so-called Anonymus Valesianus wrote that: Theoderic was a man of great distinction and a good-will towards all men, and he ruled for thirty-three years. In his time Italy for thirty years enjoyed such good fortune that his successors also inherited peace. For whatever he did was good. He so governed two races at the

3 On these events and on the early history of the Ostrogoths, the starting point is H. Wolfram, History of the Goths, trans. T.J. Dunlap (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1988). See also T. Burns, A History of the Ostrogoths (Bloomington and Indianapolis, 1984); H. Wolfram, The Roman Empire and Its Germanic Peoples, trans. T. Dunlap (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1997), pp. 183–223; P. Heather, Goths and Romans, 332–489 (Oxford, 1991); idem, The Goths (Oxford, 1996); P. Amory, People and Identity in Ostrogothic Italy, 489–554 (Cambridge, 1997). 4 On Theoderic and his reign, see W. Ensslin, Theoderich der Große, 2nd edn (Munich, 1959); J. Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy (Oxford, 1992); B. Saitta, La civilitas di Teoderico. Rigore amministrativo, ‘toleranza’ religiosa e recupero dell’antico nell’Italia Ostrogota (Rome, 1993); P. Heather, ‘Theoderic, king of the Goths’, Early Medieval Europe 4 (1995), pp. 145–73; F.M. Ausbüttel, Theoderich der Große (Darmstadt, 2003); PLRE, pp. 1077–81. See also the various papers in Teoderico il Grande e I Goti d’Italia. Atti del XIII Congresso internazionale di studi sull’Alto Medioeveo, Milano 2–6 novembre 1992, 2 vols (Spoleto, 1993).

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same time, Romans and Goths, that although he himself was of the Arian sect, he nevertheless made no assault on the Catholic religion; he gave games in the circus and the amphitheatre, so that even by the Romans he was called a Trajan or a Valentinian, whose times he took as a model; and by the Goths, because he was judged to be in all respects their best king. Military service for the Romans he kept on the same footing as under the emperors. He was generous with gifts and the distribution of grain, and although he had found the public treasury [to be] nothing but a haystack, by his efforts it was restored and made rich. Although untrained in letters, he was nevertheless so wise that even now some of his sayings are regarded among the people as aphorisms, and for that reason I am glad to place on record a few out of many. He said,‘One who has gold and a demon cannot hide the demon’. Also, ‘A poor Roman plays the Goth, a rich Goth the Roman’.5 Written in Ravenna under Byzantine rule by someone who did not hide his (or her) anti-Ostrogothic sentiments, this flattering description of the Ostrogothic king is extremely noteworthy. Although it conceals many local confrontations and controversies, the admiring image of peace and harmony, which the Anonymus Valesianus put forward, is not so far from the truth, and it is certainly one of the most significant witnesses to the glorious rule of Theoderic in Italy. Theoderic understood from the outset that in order to consolidate his rule over Italy he needed the co-operation of the Roman senatorial aristocracy. He had managed, as the Anonymus Valesianus clearly states, to secure the allegiance of both the Roman population (which formed the vast majority of his subjects) and the Ostrogothic invaders, Catholics and Arians alike,6 and to unite them all under his rule. He cultivated a 5 Anonymus Valesianus, XII.59–61, ed. and trans. I. König, Aus der Zeit Theoderichs des Großen: Einleitung, Texte, Übersetzung und Kommentar einer anonymen Quelle, Texte zur Forschung 69 (Darmstadt, 1997), pp. 78–80. I cite the English translation of J.C. Rolfe, in Ammianus Marcellinus: Res gestae, LCL, vol. 3 (Cambridge, MA and London, 1939), pp. 544–7. On the Anonymus Valesianus, see König’s introduction, pp. 1–63. See also J.N. Adams, The Text and Language of a Vulgar Latin Chronicle (Anonymus Valesianus II), Institute of Classical Studies, Bulletin Supplement 36 (London, 1976); Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 261–3. 6 Arianism was the first major Christian doctrine to challenge the full divinity of Christ. Originated with Arius (d. 336), a priest from Alexandria, Arianism spread rapidly throughout the Mediterranean world, and

Adaptation 31

sense of continuity, not only by relying heavily on local elites, who formed the backbone of the Ostrogothic administration in Italy, but also by his assiduous effort not to cut off Italy’s ties with the Roman past. Theoderic was careful not to offend the emperor in Constantinople by assuming the imperial title,7 or to do anything that might be interpreted by his contemporaries as a breech of the almost sacred Roman notion of mos majorum (‘the custom of the forefathers’). Hence, for example, the senate, the traditional guardian of the Roman libertas, although practically empty of governmental authority, continued to meet in Rome,8 whereas Ravenna, long the seat of the Roman rulers of Italy and the western empire, was chosen by Theoderic as his royal residence. It should, therefore, come as no surprise that the Ostrogothic king made an effort to cast himself as a Roman ruler. He maintained himself and his court at Ravenna in imperial splendour. He wore purple dress in official and public ceremonies,9 and he held lavish banquets in Roman style at his palace.10 His royal legislation that survives, the so-called Edictum Theoderici, demonstrates a clear connection to Roman law in both form and content,11 and he minted coins very much

7

8

9 10 11

subsequently was denounced as heresy by the ecumenical council of Nicaea (325). Notwithstanding this condemnation, Arianism did not disappear. By the time Ulfilas (d. 383), the so-called Apostle of the Goths, embarked on his mission to the Goths, Arianism was the dominant Christian doctrine in Constantinople. Less than half a century later, the ecumenical council of Constantinople (381), denounced Arianism again, but in many respects it was too late. As a result of Ulfilas’ missionary activity, the Goths embraced Arianism, and their seminal role in the conversion of other Barbarian peoples turned Arianism into one of the most prominent features of the ruling elites in a number of post-Roman kingdoms. See S.G. MacCormack, Art and Ceremony in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1981), pp. 229–35; Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 39–51. On the Roman senate under Theoderic, see Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 144–7. On the notion of libertas, see C. Wirszubski, Libertas as a Political Idea at Rome During the Late Republic and Early Principate (Cambridge, 1968); and see also J. Moorhead, ‘Libertas and nomen Romanum, in Ostrogothic Italy’, Latomus 46 (1987), 161–8; Amory, People and Identity, pp. 55–7 and 186–7. Cassiodorus, Variae, I.2.2, ed. Å.J. Fridh, CCSL 96 (Turnhout, 1973), p. 10. Cassiodorus, Variae, VI.9.7–8, ed. Fridh, pp. 237–8. On the Edictum Theoderici, see Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 75–80; Amory, People and Identity, pp. 78–82. On the attribution of the edict to Theoderic the Great, see H. Nehlsen’s review of G. Vismara, Edictum Theoderici (Milan, 1967), in Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte, Gemanistische Abteilung 86 (1969), pp. 246–60; idem, Sklavenrecht zwischen Antike

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like a Roman emperor.12 Moreover, the Roman ideology of triumphal rulership continued to flourish under Ostrogothic rule, and in 500 Theoderic paid his sole visit to Rome, in celebration of his tricennalia, that is, the thirtieth year of his rule.13 The Anonymus Valesianus, who gives the fullest account of this event, clearly portrays it as an imperial adventus:14 After peace was made in the city of the Church, King Theoderic went to Rome and met Saint Peter with as much reverence as if he himself were a Catholic. The Pope Symmachus, and the entire senate and people of Rome amid general rejoicing met him outside the city. Then, coming to Rome and entering it, he appeared in the senate, and addressed the people at the Palm, promising that with God’s help he would keep inviolate whatever the former Roman emperors had decreed. In celebration of his tricennalia he entered the palace in a triumphal procession for the entertainment of the people, and exhibited games in the circus for the Romans.15 Surprisingly, but not unexpectedly, Theoderic, the Barbarian Arian ruler of Italy, became the most distinguished guardian of Catholic Rome and its tradition. Theoderic was well aware of the delicate interweaving of the Roman past with the Ostrogothic present, and he clearly presented himself as embodying both worlds. In a mosaic at his palace in Ravenna the Ostrogothic king was shown wearing a breastplate, with a lance in his right hand and a shield in his left, while two allegorical female figures were approaching him – Rome, wearing helmet and holding a spear, and Ravenna, wearing a mural crown, with her right foot still in

12

13

14

15

und Mittelalter: germanisches und römisches Recht in der germanischen Rechtsaufzeichnung I, Ostgoten, Westgoten, Frnaken, Langobarden, Göttinger Studien zur Rechtsgeschichte 7 (Göttingen, 1972), pp. 120–3. See MacCormack, Art and Ceremony in Late Antiquity, pp. 235–7; M. McCormick, Eternal Victory: Triumphal Rulership in Late Antiquity, Byzantium, and the Early Medieval West (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 282–3. McCormick, Eternal Victory, pp. 267–84. We don’t really know from which event the thirty years were counted, but it may well be his return to the Balkans after spending ten years as a hostage in Constantinople. On Theoderic’s tricennalia, see Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 60–5. On the imperial adventus, see S.G. MacCormack, ‘Change and continuity in Late Antiquity: the ceremony of adventus’, Historia 21 (1972), pp. 721–52; eadem, Art and Ceremony in Late Antiquity, pp. 17–89. Anonymus Valesianus, XII.65–7, ed. and trans. König, pp. 82–4 [trans. Rolfe, Amminaus Marcellinus, pp. 549–51]. On Theoderic and Rome, see Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 60–5 and 144–72.

Adaptation 33

the sea and her left foot on dry land.16 A sixth-century viewer of this mosaic, would have understood this immediately as a reflection of the political and diplomatic relations between the Ostrogothic court and Rome. It would not have taken much to persuade him or her that little had changed since the fourth century.17 This understanding also had some influence on the Ostrogothic king’s conduct vis-à-vis the culture of his time.

Theodericus illiteratus Ask any art historian which of the Barbarian rulers of the early medieval West preserved the Roman tradition of artistic and cultural patronage in the most pronounced way, and you will hear the name of the Ostrogothic King Theoderic the Great and the works of art he sponsored in Ravenna. Such an answer is not at all surprising. Theoderic’s capital, with its famous buildings and dazzling mosaics, many of which can still be seen today, offers the richest and most instructive example of the interaction between Roman traditions and the new Barbarian rulers of the post-Roman world. Choosing Ravenna as the Ostrogothic capital of Italy was only the culmination of a process that had started much earlier. In 402 the western Emperor Honorius I (395–423) decided to resettle his imperial court in the quieter and more secure city of Ravenna, and thus turned it into the official imperial residence, with everything that this status entailed.18 Various public buildings and ecclesiastical monuments, such as the ‘Orthodox complex’, with the Cathedral (commonly known as the basilica Ursiana after the bishop who built it), the Orthodox baptistery, the basilica of St John the Evangelist, built by Galla Placidia, the church of Santa Croce (erroneously known as the mausoleum of Galla Placidia),

16 This mosaic did not survive, but it is described by the ninth-century author Agnellus of Ravenna. See Agnellus of Ravenna, Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis, c. 94, ed. D. Mauskopf-Deliyannis, CCCM 199 (Turnhout, 2006), pp. 258–9. On Agnellus of Ravenna and his work, see J.M. Pizarro, Writing Ravenna: The Liber Pontificalis of Andreas Agnellus (Ann Arbor, 1995); D. Mauskopf-Delyannis, Agnellus of Ravenna: The Book of Pontiffs of the Church of Ravenna (Washington, DC, 2004). 17 See J. Matthews, ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, in Boethius: His Life, Thought and Influence, ed. M. Gibson (Oxford, 1981), pp. 15–43, at pp. 17–18. 18 The first law issued by Honorius I from Ravenna is dated 6 December, 402; see Codex Theodosianus, V.13.15, ed. T. Mommsen, P.M. Meyer, P. Krüger (Berlin, 1905), p. 339.

San Eusebio Santa Croce

San Andrea di Goti

Porta Artemetoris

N

Arian Complex San Giovanni Evangelista Santa Agnese FORUM Orthodox Complex

Moneta Aurea

N PAD

FLUME ENNAE

0

Porta Palatii

Pons Sant’ Apollinare Nvovo Apollinaris Basilica Apostolorum

200 m

Map 3 Ravenna in the time of Theoderic the Great

ROYAL PALACE

Santa Agata Palace in Laureto

Porta S.Laurentii

Porta Wandalaria

Porta Cesarea

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Mausoleum San Giorgio

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or the so-called Palace in Laureto, attributed to Valentinian III (425–55), were erected by the Roman rulers who settled in Ravenna.19 Rome, the ancient capital of the empire, still retained its prestige, as well as some ceremonial and cultural significance. But, as far as the administration of the western empire is concerned, Rome had lost its position as the working capital, first to Milan and subsequently to Ravenna. Ravenna retained its central position even after Romulus Augustulus, the last Roman emperor in the West, was deposed in 476. Odoacer, the new ruler of Italy, settled with his administrative court in Ravenna, and subsequently the Ostrogothic leader Theoderic chose that city as his royal residence and turned it into one of the most impressive royal capitals of the early medieval West.20 A series of monumental buildings was erected in Ravenna at the behest of the Ostrogothic king, most of them in the eastern part of the city, that is, the former imperial quarter, where Theoderic and his entourage established themselves. One of Theoderic’s grandiose building projects in Ravenna was the construction of the so-called ‘Arian complex’, encompassing the Arian cathedral (nowadays known as Santo Spirito, but originally dedicated to the Anastasis), the Arian baptistery, and the bishop’s palace (which did not survive).21 Not far from the ‘Arian complex’ an impressive royal palace was built, with a most stunning mosaic-decorated chapel dedicated to Christ, commonly known since the tenth century as Sant’Apollinare Nuovo.22 Theoderic also sponsored the building of several other churches in and around Ravenna, such as San Andrea di Goti in the city itself, or San Eusebio and San Giorgio outside the city wall.23 Next to the latter he built his own mausoleum,

19 On Ravenna, its buildings and history, see F.W. Deichmann, Ravenna, 6 vols (Wiesbaden, 1958–89); O.G. von Simson, Sacred Fortresses: Byzantine Art and Statecraft in Ravenna (Chicago, 1948); S. Gelichi, ‘Ravenna, ascesa e declino di una capitale’, in Sedes regiae (ann. 400–800), ed. G. Ripoll and J.M. Gurt (Barcelona, 2000), pp. 109–34. 20 On Theoderic’s building policy, the most comprehensive survey is M.J. Johnson, ‘Towards a history of Theoderic’s building program’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 42 (1988), pp. 73–96. See also B. Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages. Urban Public Building in Northern and Central Italy, AD 300–850 (Oxford, 1984), passim. Many of Theodoeric’s building enterprises in Ravenna were described in detail by the ninth-century author Agnellus of Ravenna in his Liber pontificalis ecclesiae Ravennatis. 21 See Johnson, ‘Towards a history’, pp. 78–80. 22 On Theoderic’s palace complex, see Johnson, ‘Towards a history’, pp. 80–92. 23 See Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity, pp. 241–2; Johnson, ‘Towards a history’, p. 80.

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an imposing two-story polygonal building, capped with a single massive megalith cut in the shape of a dome.24 Theoderic’s enthusiasm for building, one should stress, was not confined to Ravenna alone. He paid much attention to rebuilding Rome, where he repaired the city walls, the senate and the curia, the theatre of Pompey, as well as the aqueducts and the sewers, and where he built a new imperial palace on the Palatine.25 He also promoted some extensive building projects in Abano (near Pavia), Arles, Catania and Parma, as well as in his secondary capitals – Pavia and Verona.26 Many other places throughout Italy benefited from the Ostrogothic king’s passion for building and munificence, but none of these enterprises involved the concerted effort and resources invested in the rebuilding of Ravenna. Theoderic was determined to give Ravenna a proper imperial appearance, as part of his careful attempt to cast himself in the mould of a Roman ruler. No wonder, then, that Ostrogothic Ravenna maintained many continuations with the Roman past. The various edifices built in the city under Theoderic were all modelled on or even imitated older Roman prototypes in either Ravenna itself or in Rome. For example, Ravenna’s Arian baptistery is a reduced version of the mid fifth-century Orthodox baptistery, and its dome mosaic emulates successfully the decorations of the Orthodox building. Similarly, the mosaics in Theoderic’s royal chapel, that is, Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, depend stylistically and iconographically upon the art of fourth- and fifth-century Rome. Moreover, we know that Theoderic had asked Agapitus, the praefectus urbis of Rome, to send him some trained artists to assist in rebuilding the new capital.27 As pointed out by Larry Nees, ‘judging from both texts and surviving works of art, Theoderic represents himself not as an invader but as a restorer, a common enough rhetorical pose for conquerors, yet in this case having some truth’.28 Nothing delivered this message better than the palatium mosaic at the end of the nave in Theoderic’s royal chapel, Sant’Apollinare Nuovo.

24 On Theoderic’s mausoleum, see Johnson, ‘Towards a history’, pp. 92–5. 25 See Cassiodorus, Variae , I.21, III.29–31, IV.30 and 51, VII.6, 7, 9, 15 and 17, ed. Fridh, pp. 29–30, 117–20, 161–2, 177–9, 265–70, 274–7 respectively. See also Anonymus Valesianus, XII.65, ed. and trans. König, p. 82. 26 See, for example, Cassiodorus, Variae, II.39, III.44 and 49, VIII.29–30, ed. Fridh, pp. 84–7, 127, 132, 335–6 respectively; Anonymus Valesianus, XII.71, ed. and trans. König, p. 84. 27 Cassiodorus, Variae, I.6, ed. Fridh, p. 17. 28 L. Nees, Early Medieval Art (Oxford, 2002), p. 83.

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In the subtle language of late antique iconography, it proclaimed unambiguously the status of the Ostrogothic king and his relations with the Roman past. The original version of this mosaic showed the ruler in majesty, with the imperial splendour of his palace, and surrounded by his court dignitaries, in what seem to be a thoughtful imitation of enthronement and majesty scenes in imperial art.29 Unfortunately, after the Byzantine conquest of Ravenna, Justinian’s artists erased the images of the Arian king and his courtiers, and replaced them with decorated curtains, leaving inadvertently some of their hands on the palatium’s columns, one of which (on the third column from the left) clearly makes the gesture of acclamation. Against the background of the ostentatious building activity and the generous patronage of the arts that the Ostrogothic king had practised, it is quite surprising how little we hear of Theoderic’s support and patronage of authors and poets. Could it be an accidental bias in our sources, or was Theoderic, whom Pierre Riché calls ‘a genuine Maecenas’,30 really indifferent to the literary culture of his time? After heaping many compliments on the Ostrogothic king, the Anonymus Valesianus bluntly states that Theoderic was illiterate and could not really understand the importance of the written word: Now king Theoderic was without training in letters (illiteratus), and of such a dull comprehension that for ten years of his reign he had been wholly unable to learn the four letters necessary for endorsing his edicts. For that reason he had a golden plate with slits made [i.e. a stencil], containing the four letters ‘legi’; then, if he wished to endorse anything, he placed the plate over the paper and drew his pen through the slits, so that only this subscription of his was seen.31 Many scholars in the past had chosen to believe this comment on Theoderic’s skills, but it is obvious nowadays that this slandering statement should not be accepted at face value.32 As rightly pointed out by Pierre Riché, it is based on a misunderstanding of the use of the royal seal,33 29 On this scene, see MacCormack, Art and Ceremony in Late Antiquity, pp. 235–40. 30 Riché, Education and Culture, p. 56. 31 Anonymus Valesianus, XII.79, ed. König, p. 88 [trans. Rolfe, Ammianus Marcellinus, pp. 557–9]. 32 For a succinct survey of the debate, see Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 57–8. See also Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 104–5 33 Riché, Education and Culture, p. 57.

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and it runs contrary to all other comments on the king’s education, including the one given by the Anonymus Valesianus himself in an earlier section of the work.34 We know that Theoderic spent ten years (from the age of eight till the age of eighteen) as a hostage at the imperial court of Constantinople, and both Ennodius and Cassiodorus imply that there he had received an education appropriate for a young Byzantine aristocrat.35 In a letter written on behalf of Theoderic’s grandson and successor, King Athalaric (d. 534), to Cassiodorus about his promotion to the praetorian prefecture, Cassiodorus himself (who apparently composed this letter) relates that ‘when free from public business, he [i.e. Theoderic] asked you [i.e. Cassiodorus] to recount the opinion of the wise, so that he might compare his own deeds with those of antiquity. The course of the stars, the gulfs of the sea, the marvels of springs were investigated by this shrewd enquirer, so that, by diligent scrutiny of the natural world, he might seem a kind of purple-clad philosopher’.36 This attempt to present the ruler like ‘a purple-clad philosopher’, we are told by Jordanes (d. c. 552), was a long established royal Gothic tradition.37

34 Anonymus Valesianus, XII.61, ed. König, p. 84, cited above pp. 29–30. 35 Ennodius, Panegyricus Theoderico regi dictus, c. 3(11), ed. and trans. C. Rohr, MGH Studien und Texte 12 (Hannover, 1995), p. 202; Cassiodorus, Variae, XII.10, ed. Fridh, pp. 474–5. On Theoderic’s education, see Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 56–60; Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 104–7. 36 Cassiodorus, Variae, IX.24, ed. Fridh, p. 377. I cite the translation of S.J.B. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae (Liverpool, 1992), pp. 125–6. 37 Jordanes, Getica, V (39) and XI (69), ed. T. Mommsen, MGH AA V.1 (Berlin, 1882), pp. 64 and 74 respectively. The question of Jordanes and his sources still excites many scholars. For some recent contributions to the debate, see Wolfram, History of the Goths, pp. 3–18 and passim; idem, ‘Einleitung oder Überlegungen zur Origo Gentis’, in Typen der Ethnogenese unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Bayern, I, ed. H. Wolfram and W. Pohl, Veröffentlischungen der Kommission für Frühmittelalterforschung 13 (Vienna, 1990), pp. 19–33; and compare with W. Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History (A.D. 550–800): Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede, and Paul the Deacon (Princeton, 1988), pp. 20–111; idem, ‘Jordanes’ Getica and the disputed authenticity of Gothic origins from Scandinavia’, Speculum 80 (2005), pp. 379–98. See also J.J. O’Donnell, ‘The aim of Jordanes’, Historia 31 (1982), pp. 223–40; B. Croke, ‘Cassiodorus and the Getica of Jordanes’, Classical Philology 82 (1987), pp. 117–34; P. Heather, ‘Cassiodorus and the rise of the Amals: genealogy and the Goths under Hun domination’, Journal of Roman Studies 79 (1989), pp. 103–28; idem, Goths and Romans, pp. 34–67; Amory, People and Identity, pp. 35–6 and 291–312; A.S. Christensen, Cassiodorus, Jordanes and the History of the Goths. Studies in a Migration Myth (Copenhagen, 2002).

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Yet, the Ostrogothic king’s intellectual curiosity went far beyond the attempt to present himself as a philosopher-king. Theoderic appears to have taken good care of his daughter’s education. Amalasuintha (d. 535), we are told by Cassiodorus, was fluent in Greek, Latin and Gothic; she was well familiar with classical literature; and might have had some sort of legal training too.38 ‘Had revered Antiquity achieved the like?’ asks Cassiodorus rhetorically,39 before going on to sing Amalasuintha’s praise in front of the Roman senate in September 533. This is emphatically not the Theodoricus illiteratus of the Anonymus Valesianus, but the wise king described by Procopius: And though he did not claim the right to assume either the garb or the name of emperor of the Romans, but was called ‘rex’ to the end of his life (for thus the Barbarians are accustomed to call their leaders), still in governing his own subjects, he invested himself with all the qualities which appropriately belong to one who is by birth an emperor. For he was exceedingly careful to observe justice, he preserved the laws on a sure basis, he protected the land and kept it safe from the barbarians dwelling round about, and attained the highest possible degree of wisdom and manliness.40 It is hard to imagine Procopius, who had a rather demanding view on the qualities of a good emperor, heaping such compliments on an illiterate Barbarian ruler. Moreover, it would be foolhardy to assume that Theoderic, who built Ravenna in the most Roman of ways, was indifferent to the literary culture that was part and parcel of the Romanitas he so much wanted to adopt and imitate. Thus, although there is little evidence that associates Theoderic directly with the production of literary works, it is more than probable that intellectual activity continued to flourish in Italy under Ostrogothic rule, and it is not too far-fetched to assume that at least part of it benefited from the king’s munificence.

Ostrogothic past, Roman present As we have already seen, a sense of continuity with the Roman past prevailed in Ostrogothic Italy. It was carefully cultivated by the king 38 Cassiodorus, XI.1.6–8, ed. Fridh, p. 423. 39 Cassiodorus, XI.1.9, ed. Fridh, pp. 423–4 [trans. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae, p. 147]. 40 Procopius, De Bello Gothico, I.i.26–7 = Procopius, History of the Wars, V.i.26–7, ed. and trans. Dewing, III, pp. 10–11.

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and his entourage, and it relied heavily on the cooperation of the Roman senatorial aristocracy. The senatorial families of Italy maintained their prominence in the Ostrogothic kingdom, despite the fact that the senate itself had lost its political role, and was merely reduced into a local governing body that ruled Rome under the watchful eye of the Ostrogothic king.41 Theoderic courted Rome’s talents, and soon enough he surrounded himself with members of some of the most illustrious senatorial families, such as the Decii and the Anicii. It is true that not all senators were happy to co-operate with the Arian king and his government on a regular basis, but none could afford to ignore the Ostrogothic court altogether. It is possible to distinguish between two types of political careers undertaken by members of the senatorial aristocracy.42 This distinction, as pointed out by John Matthews, rests on the extent to which Roman aristocrats were prepared to hold court offices under the Ostrogothic king. On the one hand, stood the traditionalist senatorial faction, whose political horizons had Rome as their centre, and whose members sought a political career ‘uncontaminated’, as much as possible, by connections with the Ostrogothic court. On the other hand, we find senators who were willing to tie their political career closely with the royal court at Ravenna. Whereas the former party produced Boethius (c. 480–524), the latter is best represented by Cassiodorus (c. 485–585) – the two leading figures of Theoderic’s reign, who shaped much of our views on the Ostrogothic kingdom of Italy. Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius was born into one of the most illustrious families of the old Roman aristocracy – the Anicii – and after the death of his father he was adopted by an even grander family, that of the Symmachi.43 As a young Roman aristocrat Boethius dedicated much of his early career to intellectual activity, and soon enough, thanks to 41 On the status of the Roman senate under Ostrogothic rule, see above p. 31, note 8. 42 See Matthews, ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, pp. 26–31. See also idem, Western Aristocracies and Imperial Court, A.D. 364–425 (Oxford, 1975), pp. 12–28 and 352–76. 43 The amount of literature on Boethius, his career and his thought is enormous and cannot be listed here. For a good introduction, see H. Chadwick, Boethius: The Consolation of Music, Logic, Theology and Philosophy (Oxford, 1981); J. Marenbon, Boethius (Oxford, 2003); Patrologia, pp. 202–17; PLRE, pp. 233–7. See also the various papers in Boethius: His Life, Thought and Influence, ed. Gibson. On the Anicii, see T.S. Mommaerts and D.H. Kelley, ‘The Anicii of Gaul and Rome’, in Fifth-Century Gaul: A Crisis of Identity?, ed. J. Drinkwater and H. Elton (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 111–21.

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his cultivated learning and the undaunted support of Quintus Aurelius Memmius Symmachus (d. 524),44 his adoptive father and later his fatherin-law, Boethius became one of the leading figures in the Roman establishment. His intellectual fame reached even Theoderic, who sought his advice on the exchange rate between copper denarii and gold solidus,45 asked him to chose a harpist for the Frankish king Clovis,46 and bid him to design a sundial, as well as a water-clock, for the Burgundian king Gundobad.47 In 510 Boethius was elected sole consul, and this, as pointed out by Henry Chadwick, should be seen ‘as a recognition of his rank and capacity to pay rather than as a decision to emerge from his library to take active part in the business of government’.48 Nevertheless, in his most renowned and influential work, Philosophiae consolatio (‘The Consolation of Philosophy’), written in prison while awaiting for his trial and execution, Boethius himself declares that ‘ambition for material things had little or no influence with me; rather, I sought the opportunity for public service so that virtue would not languish in silence’.49 He was, no doubt, a conservative idealist, and he performed his duties in a most admirable way.50 Yet, even a man in Boethius’ stature could not keep away from Ravenna. He was courted by the Ostrogothic king, who undoubtedly saw him as a bridge to the more reserved senators of Rome. Hence, in 522, evidently by agreement between Theoderic himself and the Byzantine emperor Justin I (d. 527), Boethius’ sons were appointed consuls together. It was an extraordinary distinction, and Boethius had no choice but to return a favour. On the very same day of his sons’ installation, Boethius delivered a panegyric in honour of Thoederic, which unfortunately has not survived, and shortly afterward he accepted the post of magister officiorum (‘Master of the Offices’) at the Ostrogothic court in Ravenna.51 This was the most important administrative office at court,52 and it was in his capacity as magister officiorum

44 45 46 47 48 49

On Symmachus, see Chadwick, Boethius, pp. 6–16. Cassiodorus, Variae I.10, ed. Fridh, pp. 20–22. Cassiodorus, Variae II.40, ed. Fridh, pp. 87–91. Cassiodorus, Variae I.45, ed. Fridh, pp. 49–51. Chadwick, Boethius, p. 24. See Boethius, De consolatione Philosophiae, II.7.1, ed. C. Moreschini, Teubner (Munich and Leipzig, 2000), p. 50. I cite the English translation of P.G. Walsh, Boethius: The Consolation of Philosophy (Oxford, 1999), p. 34. 50 See Boethius, De consolatione Philosophiae, I.4.12–15, ed. Moreschini, p. 13. 51 On Boethius as magister officiorum, see Chadwick, Boethius, pp. 46–56. 52 For its duties, as perceived by Theoderic himself, see Cassiodorus, Variae, VI.6, ed. Fridh, pp. 231–3.

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that Boethius raised the suspicion and resentment of the Ostrogothic King. In 523–524 he was imprisoned, and shortly after the senate (at the request of Theoderic) had condemned him, his goods were confiscated and he was brutally executed. With his uncompromising Roman idealism and conservatism, Boethius may appear remote and alienated from the world around him. Cassiodorus, on the other had, seems more of a pragmatist, who clearly understood the changing reality in which he lived. Flavius Magnus Aurelius Cassiodorus Senator was born (c. 485) to an important senatorial family that had a long tradition of public service, first on behalf of the imperial court and subsequently on behalf of the royal court in Ravenna.53 His grandfather, Cassiodorus, had held the court post of tribunus et notarius under Emperor Valentinian III (425–455), and supported Aetius (d. 454), the military leader who practically ruled the West.54 His father (also called Cassiodorus) held the offices of comes rei privatae and comes sacrum largitionum under Odoacer, before joining Theoderic’s court and serving him in various administrative posts, among them the praefectus praetorio (‘Praetorian Prefect’) of Italy.55 As for our Cassiodorus, a short autobiographical note, written by him around 538, lists the highlights of his career: Cassiodorus Senator was a man of great learning, and distinguished by his many honours. While still a young man, when he was legal adviser (consiliarius) to his father, the Patrician and Praetorian Prefect Cassiodorus, and delivered a most eloquent speech in praise of Theoderic king of the Goths, he was appointed Quaestor by him, also Patrician and Ordinary Consul, and, at a later date, Master of the Offices [and Praetorian Prefect. He submitted] formulae for official documents, which he arranged in twelve books, and entitled

53 On Cassiodorus and his work, the starting point is J.J. O’Donnell, Cassiodorus (Berkeley, 1979), regularly updated online at http://ccat.sas.upenn.edu/ jod/texts/cassbook/toc.html. See also S. Krautschick, Cassiodor und die Politik seiner Zeit (Bonn, 1983); R. Macpherson, Rome in Involution: Cassiodorus’ Variae in their Literary and Historical Setting (Poznan, 1989); S.J.B. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae (Liverpool, 1992), pp. ix–liii; M. Vessey, ‘Introduction’, in J.W. Halpron and M. Vessey, Cassiodorus: Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning and On the Soul (Liverpool, 2004), pp. 3–101; Patrologia, pp. 217–32; PLRE, pp. 265–9. 54 Cassiodorus, Variae, I.4.9–15, ed. Fridh, pp. 15–16. See also PLRE, p. 264. 55 Cassiodorus, Variae, I.4.6–8, ed. Fridh, pp. 14–15. See also PLRE, pp. 264–5.

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Variae. At the command of king Theoderic, he wrote a history of the Goths, setting out their origin, habitations, and character in twelve books.56 This short statement, commonly known as the Ordo generis Cassiodororum (‘Order of the House of the Cassiodori’),57 does not hide the fact that from a fairly early stage Cassiodorus’ career was closely associated with the court of Ravenna. Like Boethius, whom he succeeded in 423–424 as magister officiorum, Cassiodorus delivered a panegyric in honour of King Theoderic; but unlike Boethius, in Cassiodorus’ case, such an act was only natural and obvious. Whereas Boethius, even as magister officiorum at the service of the Ostrogothic king, seems reserved and alienated from Theoderic’s court, Cassiodorus seems to have been part of it. He never put on the traditional mantle of senatorial arrogance, that Boethius and many of his fellow Roman senators often did. Although Boethius and Cassiodorus clearly represent two different senatorial patterns of behaviour towards the Ostrogothic court (a difference which, as pointed out by John Matthews, should not be overemphasised),58 they were both extremely learned men. And yet, their different background and views on the politics of their time are plainly reflected in their intellectual activity. Boethius, we are told, knew both Greek and Latin, and by 506 was already renowned for his outstanding erudition and for his Latin translations of works by Pythagoras, Ptolemy, Nicomachus, Euclid, Plato, Aristotle and Archimedes.59 He was particularly devoted to the study of

56 Ordo generis Cassiodororum, ed. T. Mommsen, MGH AA XII (Berlin, 1894), p. vi [trans. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae, pp. xxxvi–xxxvii]. See also O’Donnell, Cassiodorus, pp. 259–66; Krautschik, Cassiodor, pp. 78–84; A. Galonnier, ‘Anecdoton Holderi ou Ordo generis Cassiodororum: Introduction, édition, traduction et commentaire’, Antiquité tardive 4 (1996), pp. 299–312; A.M. Milazzo, ‘L’Anecdoton Holderi: Une genere letterario contaminato’, in Cassiodoro: Dalla corte di Ravenna al Vivarium di Squillace. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Squillace, 25–27 otobre 1990, ed. S. Leanza (Soveria Mannelli, 1993), pp. 177–89. 57 It is also known as the Anecdoton Holderi, after the nineteenth-century scholar, Alfred Holder, who found it in a Reichenau manuscript. 58 Matthews, ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, p. 26. 59 See Cassiodorus, Variae, I.45, ed. Fridh, pp. 49–51. See also Ennodius, Opera, no. 370, ed. F. Vogel, MGH AA VII (Berlin, 1885), p. 268; idem, Paraenesis didascalia, in Opera, no. 452, ed. Vogel, pp. 310–15.

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philosophy.60 He planned to translate into Latin the entire works of Plato and Aristotle,61 of which he only managed to complete Aristotle’s works on logic and Porphyry’s commentary on Aristotle’s Categories. He wrote commentaries on Cicero’s Topica, Porphyry’s Isagoge and Aristotle’s De interpretatione. But the jewel in the crown of Boethius’ philosophical writings is his Consolation of Philosophy, which he composed in prison, while awaiting trial.62 As far as his intellectual activity is concerned, Boethius was an outstanding representative of the senatorial aristocracy of his age. From the late fourth century onwards, a number of Roman aristocrats became extremely busy with editing, amending and commenting upon the classical authors of Antiquity.63 Whether this literary wave was somehow associated with the final clash between Christianity and paganism in the later Roman empire, is impossible to ascertain; but it is clear that similar intellectual interests continued to characterise the literary activity of Roman senators well after they were all won over by Christianity. Groups of intellectual senators, like the one described by Macrobius in his Saturnalia,64 were still a common feature in fifth- and early sixthcentury Rome,65 and their activity is plainly reflected in the subscriptiones, that is, the brief formulaic statements inserted at the end of the works they edited.66 For example, one such subscriptio tells us that

60 Boethius, De consolatione Philosophiae, I.1.1–2 and 4, ed. Moreschini, pp. 4–5; Procopius, De Bello Gothico, I.i.33 = Procopius, History of the Wars, V.i.33, ed. and trans. Dewing, III, pp. 12–13. c 61 Boethius, Commentarii in librum Aristotelis ` E ´  I.2, ed. C. Meiser, Teubner, 2nd edn (Leipzig, 1880), pp. 52–6. 62 On Boethius’ various works, see Chadwick, Boethius; Marenbon, Boethius; and see there for further references. 63 See L.D. Reynolds and N.G. Wilson, Scribes and Scholars. A Guide to the Transmission of Greek and Latin Litterature, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1991), pp. 36–9. See also H. Bloch, ‘The pagan revival in the West at the end of the fourth century’, in The Conflict between Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century, ed. A. Momigliano (Oxford, 1963), pp. 193–217; Averil Cameron, ‘Paganism and literature in fourth-century Rome’, in Christianisme et formes littéraires, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité classique 23 (Geneva, 1977), pp. 1–40. 64 On Macrobius see Allan Cameron, ‘The date and identity of Macrobius’, Journal of Roman Studies 56 (1966), pp. 25–38. 65 O. Pecere, ‘La cultura Greco-romana in età gota tra adattamento e transformazione’, in Teoderico il Grande, pp. 355–94. 66 On the subscriptiones, see J.E.G. Zetzel, Latin Textual Criticism in Antiquity (New York, 1981), pp. 209–31; Reynolds and Wilson, Scribes and Scholars, pp. 39–43 with bibliography at pp. 252–3; B. Bischoff, Latin Palaeography: Antiquity and the Middle Ages, trans. D. Ó Cróinín and D. Ganz (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 183–5.

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Symmachus, Boethius’ father-in-law, edited and corrected Macrobius’ commentary on Cicero’s Somnium Scipionis (‘The Dream of Scipio’),67 and another one, apparently the only original subscriptio that survives, reveals that Turcius Rufius Apronianus Asterius, the consul of 494, did the same with the works of Virgil.68 It seems as if parts of the Roman aristocracy had rallied to preserve its cultural tradition and literary heritage, and Boethius’ scholarly activity, with its distinctive philosophical inclinations, fits this intellectual context extremely well.69 Moreover, Boethius also wrote some works of theology,70 which can be seen as a branch of philosophy, and in this he reflects the growing involvement of the senate in the ecclesiastical life and politics of his age.71 Cassiodorus’ intellectual horizons, although relying on the same foundations, were rather different. Unlike many intellectual senators of his time, Cassiodorus was not preoccupied with correcting and editing the masterpieces of Antiquity. He was busy writing new compositions, and a certain pragmatism characterises them all. In 519 Theoderic’s sonin-law, Eutharic (d.c. 526), was appointed consul with Emperor Justin I as his colleague, and to mark the occasion Cassiodorus composed a brief summary of Roman history, commonly known as the Chronica.72 At the request of Theoderic himself he began writing the history of the Goths in twelve books, which he did not complete until the reign of Athalaric, Theoderic’s grandson.73 Around 537–538, after retiring from public life, Cassiodorus collected, edited and published the Variae, that is, a collection of letters and epistolary formulae, which he composed during his many years of service at the Ostrogothic court.74 At about the same time, Cassiodorus composed 67 See O. Jahn, ‘Über die Subscriptionen in den Handschriften römischer Classiker’, Berichte über die Verhandlungen der Sächsichen Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften, Phil.-hist. Classe 3 (1851), pp. 327–72, at pp. 345–7. 68 This subscription appears in Florence, Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana XXXIX.1, fol. 8r (saec. vex ; Rome?); CLA III.296. See also Jahn, ‘Über die Subscriptionen’, pp. 348–9. 69 See Matthews, ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, esp. pp. 19–25. See also H. Kirby, ‘The scholar and his public’, in Boethius, ed. Gibson, pp. 44–69. 70 See Chadwick, Boethius, pp. 174–222; Marenbon, Boethius, pp. 66–95; J. Mair, ‘The text of the Opuscula sacra’, in Boethius, ed. Gibson, pp. 206– 14. 71 Matthews, ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, pp. 23–5. 72 See Cassiodorus, Chronica, ed. T. Mommsen, MGH AA XI (Berlin, 1894), pp. 120–61. See also Christensen, Cassiodorus, Jordanes and the History of the Goths, pp. 57–62. 73 I shall discuss the Gothic History more fully later in this chapter. 74 For a succinct discussion of the Variae, see Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae, pp. xiv–xxxv, and see there for further bibliography.

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his sole philosophical treatise, De anima (‘On the Soul’),75 and from then on he dedicated much of his time and effort to the education of the monks at his estate, Vivarium. He composed numerous exegetical and theological treatises, all of which were listed by him in the preface to his treatise on orthography.76 The pedagogical objective of his later writings is evident,77 and it is even more apparent in his monumental Institutiones divinarum et saeculariusm litterarum (‘Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning’) – an annotated bibliography of Christian scholarship.78 This kind of instructive practicality is emphatically absent from Boethius’ oeuvre. Was it a mere coincidence that two of the most brilliant minds of lateantique Italy found their way to the court of the Ostrogothic king? I do not think so. Theoderic knew exactly whom he was recruiting, and why. Our earliest evidence on the contacts between the court at Ravenna and Boethius suggests that it was Boethius’ intellectual fame that first drew the attention of the Ostrogothic king. As we have already mentioned, in 506 he was consulted by Theoderic on scientific and musical issues.79 He was a famous scholar by that time,80 and Theoderic wished to recruit him to the court. He did so first by entrusting him with an enquiry into complaints put forward by the domestici equitum et peditum (‘the horse and foot guards’) over their pay,81 and subsequently by supporting his nomination to the consulate in 510, as well as his sons’ joint consulate in 522. No doubt Boethius’ goodwill and readiness to co-operate with the Ostrogothic regime was very important to Theoderic. Not only did it cultivate a strong sense of continuity with the Roman past, it was also powerful enough to facilitate the acceptance of the Arian Barbarian king as a legitimate ruler by Italy’s conservative aristocracy. There was other value to it too. Recruiting the greatest philosopher of his time and appointing him to the office of magister officiorum, the highest post in the court, clearly meant more than simply strengthening the political 75 On Cassiodorus’ De anima, see the introduction in Halporn and Vessey, Cassiodorus: Institutions, pp. 19–22. 76 Cassiodorus, De orthographia, praefatio, in Grammatici Latini, ed. H. Keil, 8 vols., Teubner (Leipzig, 1855–80), VI, pp. 143–210, at p. 144. 77 See P. Brown, The Rise of Western Christendom. Triumph and Diversity, A.D. 200–1000, 2nd edn (Oxford, 2003), pp. 196–8. 78 On Cassiodorus’ Institutiones, see the introduction in Halporn and Vessey, Cassiodorus: Institutions, pp. 22–97. 79 Cassiodorus, Variae, I.45 and II.40, ed. Fridh, pp 49–51 and 87–91. 80 See Ennodius, Opera, no. 271, ed. Vogel, pp. 217–18. 81 Cassiodorus, Variae, I.10, ed. Fridh, pp. 20–2.

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alliance with the Roman aristocracy. For a king, who made an effort to look like a ‘purple-clad philosopher’,82 having Boethius at his side was, in a sense, the fulfilment of the Platonic ideal of the philosopher king. In his Philosophiae consolatio, Boethius claims that he had accepted public office precisely because of that Platonic ideal: It was you [i.e. Philosophy] who through Plato’s mouth enacted this principle: affairs of state would be blessed if students of philosophy directed them, or if those who controlled them happened to be students of philosophy. Through the mouth of that same man you warned why it was essential for philosophers to take charge of public affairs: if the government of cities was left to unprincipled malefactors, it would bring plague and ruin upon the good. So this was the authority I followed. I sought to apply in the administration of affairs what I had learned in sequestered leisure. You, I am sure, and God who established you in the minds of philosophers, are well aware that I have devoted myself to no political office without having the common interests of all good men at heart.83 Whether these words express the sincere thoughts of a sad man who felt betrayed and unappreciated, or whether they are a sophisticated sarcastic arrow, directed at the Ostrogothic king and his court, is not at all clear. Yet, there is little doubt that the Platonic ideal of the philosopher king was in the air, and this contributes a whole new perspective on Theoderic’s cultural and intellectual horizons. With Cassiodorus, the more ‘pragmatic’ of the two, matters stood differently. Probably because of his unreserved attraction to the court at Ravenna, Cassiodorus was openly drafted to promote the Ostrogothic cause, and he willingly answered the call.84 Already in his Chronica, which was published in 519 to mark Eutharic’s joint consulate with Justin I, his pro-Ostrogothic stance is clear.85 Gothic mischiefs, such as

82 Cassiodorus, Variae, IX.24.8, ed. Fridh, p. 377 [trans. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae, p. 126]. 83 Boethius, De consolatione Philosophiae, I.4.5–8, ed. Moreschini, p. 12 [trans. Walsh, Boethius: The Consolation of Philosophy, p. 9]. 84 On Cassiodorus’ political ideal, see M. Reydellet, La royauté dans la literature latine de Sidoine Apollinaire à Isidore de Séville, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 243 (Rome, 1981), pp. 183–253. 85 See O’Donnell, Cassiodorus, esp. pp. 36–43; Amory, People and Identity, pp. 66–7.

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the capture of Rome by Alaric in 410, were unashamedly gilded,86 Gothic failures, such as Claudius II’s celebrated victory over the Goths in 271, which, in fact, won him the nickname ‘Gothicus’, were elegantly masked or simply ignored;87 and Gothic successes were blown out of proportions.88 By distorting some facts and omitting others, Cassiodorus produced a brief summary of Roman history as the Ostrogothic rulers of Italy would have liked to see it. The Gothic past was carefully integrated into the Roman past, so as to present Theoderic and his heirs as the sole worthy, legitimate and divinely ordained successors of Rome. Hence, Cassiodorus’ Chronica is by no means a paragon of writing history sine ira et studio (‘without anger or partisanship’); but it is doubtful whether in the political circumstances of early sixth-century Italy following Tacitus’ ideal was an option. We do not know whether the writing of the Chronica was Cassiodorus’ own initiative, or whether he was commissioned to do so by Theoderic, Eutharic, or any other Ostrogothic official. Its publication, however, was carefully timed. Not only did it coincide with the consulate celebrations of Eutharic, whom Cassiodorus enthusiastically praises in the Chronica,89 it also coincided with the end of the so-called Acacian schism, and the subsequent reconciliation of the eastern and western Churches.90 This was a powerful moment that undoubtedly served the Ostrogothic craving for legitimacy and recognition, and Cassiodorus’ Chronica was deliberately designed to mobilise public opinion, especially that of the senatorial aristocrats, in favour of the Ostrogothic rulers. It is no mere coincidence that Cassiodorus himself was chosen in 519 to deliver the panegyric in honour of Eutharic. This panegyric, only a few fragments of which survive, betrays the very same pro-Ostrogothic message by calling Eutharic ‘an indefatigable triumphant (triumphator), who, through his fighting, restored the exhausted members of the republic (res publica) and 86 See Cassiodorus, Chronica, c. 1185, ed. Mommsen, p. 155, where the capture of Rome is presented as Alaric’s clement victory. 87 In the case of Claudius’ victory it was presented as a minor victory over some barbari; see Cassiodorus, Chronica, c. 982, ed. Mommsen, p. 148. 88 See, for example, the description of Theoderic’s entrance into Rome in 500, in Cassiodorus, Chronica, c. 1339, ed. Mommsen, p. 160. 89 See Cassiodorus, Chronica, c. 1364, ed. Mommsen, p. 161. 90 The Acacian schism, named after Acacius, the patriarch of Constantinople (471–489), revolved around Emperor Zeno’s Henotikon – a theological formula that was meant to secure the union between the Monophysite and the Orthodox Churches. On the Acacian schism, see W.H.C. Frend, The Rise of the Monophysite Movement (Cambridge, 1972), esp. pp. 143–54. See also Amory, People and Identity, pp. 203–16.

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brought back the old happiness (beatitudo) to our own time’.91 Precisely because of this attitude, which the panegyric to Eutharic and, even more bluntly, the Chronica convey, Cassiodorus is commonly regarded as the Ostrogothic propagandist par excellence. Cassiodorus’ other historical composition, the so-called Gothic History, probably had similar propagandistic aims. Unfortunately, this work does not survive. At the very beginning of his Getica, Jordanes claimed that he had summarised Cassiodorus’ lost Gothic History,92 but the questions of how and how much of Cassiodorus’ work is embedded in Jordanes’ Getica is still bitterly disputed among scholars.93 I shall not plunge into guesswork as to which parts of Jordanes’ Getica were actually taken from Cassiodorus, or which sources were available to Cassiodorus while composing the Gothic History. I shall confine my discussion here only to Cassiodorus’ own testimony on the nature and content of his composition. In the Ordo generis Cassiodororum, Cassiodorus states that ‘at the command of king Theoderic, he wrote a history of the Goths, setting out their origins, habitations, and character in twelve books’.94 Hence, we know that the initiative for composing the Gothic History came from the Ostrogothic king himself and that, unlike the Chronica, this composition was focused on the history of the Goths. In one of the letters on his appointment as the praefectus praetorio, Cassiodorus gives a short account of his historical method: Why, honourable sirs [i.e. members of the senate], should you suppose that Cassiodorus was content merely to essay the praise of living lords, a task of inevitable tedium, although they may be expected to reward it? He extended his labour even to the ancient cradle of our house, learning from his reading what the hoary recollections of our elders scarcely preserved. From the lurking place of antiquity he led out the kings of the Goths, long hidden in oblivion. He restored the Amals, along with the honour of their family, clearly proving me [i.e. Athalaric] to be of royal stock to the seventeenth generation. From Gothic origins he made a Roman history, gathering,

91 Cassiodorus, Orationum reliquiae, 1, ed. L. Traube, MGH AA XII (Berlin, 1894), p. 466. 92 Jordanes, Getica, praefatio.1–2, ed. T. Mommsen, MGH AA V.1 (Berlin, 1882), pp. 53–4. 93 See the studies listed above, p. 38, note 37. 94 Ordo generis Cassiodororum, ed. Mommsen, p. vi [trans. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae, p. xxxvii].

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as it were, into one garland, flower-buds that had previously been scattered throughout the fields of literature.95 This passage corroborates the information given by the Ordo generis Cassiodororum, but it also suggests that Cassiodorus had done much research into the Gothic past before writing the Gothic History,96 and it further points at the hidden agenda behind its composition. The Gothic History was meant to integrate the Goths into Roman history and to anchor their origins and rise to power in the Roman past, or, in Cassiodorus’ own words, ‘to make Gothic history Roman’.97 If these are not sufficient indications of the pro-Ostrogothic aspirations of the Gothic History, then in his preface to books I–X of the Variae Cassiodorus bluntly declares that people had credited him with speaking ‘panegyrics to kings and queens with general applause’ and for composing ‘the history of the Goths in twelve books, anthologising their successes’.98 A similar message emerges from Cassiodorus’ Variae as a whole. Andrew Gillett is right in claiming that we cannot regard the actual gathering and publication of the Variae as ‘a self-confessed work of propaganda’.99 After all the work was published in 538 or thereabouts, when it was clear, even to the most keen supporters of Theoderic and 95 Cassiodorus, Variae, IX.25.3–5, ed. Fridh, p. 379 [trans. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae, p. 128]. 96 See also P. Heather, ‘Cassiodorus and the rise of the Amals: genealogy and the Goths under Hun domination’, Journal of Roman Studies 79 (1989), pp. 103–28. 97 Cassiodorus, Variae, IX.25.5, ed. Fridh, p. 379. 98 Cassiodorus, Variae, praefatio.11, ed. Fridh, p. 5. I do no agree with Peter Heather that ‘histories    are not good vehicles for propaganda’, and therefore Cassiodorus’ Gothic History should be seen merely ‘as one in a long line of classical literary works designed to catch the eye of the ruler of the day, its content no more than a clever reflection of Theoderic’s real propaganda’. See P. Heather, ‘The historical culture of Ostrogothic Italy’, in Teoderico il Grande, pp. 317–53. A number of studies in recent years has revealed how histories were quite a common, and rather effective, means of political propaganda in the early medieval West. See, for example, McKitterick, History and Memory, passim; idem, ‘Political ideology and Carolingian historiography’, and Y. Hen, ‘The Annals of Metz and the Merovingian past’, in The Uses of the Past in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Y. Hen and M. Innes (Cambridge, 2000), pp. 162–74 and 175–90 respectively. 99 See A. Gillett, ‘The purposes of Cassiodorus’ Variae’, in After Rome’s Fall: Narrators and Sources of Early Medieval History. Essays Presented to Walter Goffart, ed. A.C. Murray (Toronto, Buffalo and London, 1998), pp. 37–50; and compare with P. Barnwell, Emperors, Perfects, and Kings: The Roman West, 395–565 (London, 1992), pp. 166–9, from where (p. 167) the citation is taken.

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his successors, that Ostrogothic rule was past its prime. Nevertheless, numerous bits and pieces of pro-Ostrogothic propaganda are to be found in many of the letters collected by Cassiodorus for his Variae, but these, one must constantly bear in mind, are remnants of political ideals and trends current at the time of their composition, rather than at the time at which they were gathered and published. Combing through the Variae it becomes apparent how profoundly these letters were imbued with Theoderic’s political ideology of mutual co-existence. This is precicely the civilitas that recurs time and again throughout the Variae,100 and, as pointed out by Arnaldo Momigliano, ‘there can be few other works in the literature of any country comparable with such a sustained effort to present a Barbarian as the embodiment of civilised justice and wisdom’.101 Boethius and Cassiodorus were, perhaps, the two most learned men in the court of Theoderic the Great, but they were certainly not the only ones. As we have already noted, Theoderic surrounded himself with some of the most brilliant and ambitious young aristocrats, who turned his court into a lively centre of administrative as well as cultural activity. A sound reflection of that can be found in the correspondence of Ennodius (d. 521), bishop of Pavia (from c. 513),102 who addresses many of his letters to Roman aristocrats with pivotal positions at the Ostrogothic court in Ravenna.103 We do not really know the extent to which these palatine officers were also busy with cultural and literary activity. Bearing in mind the examples of Boethius and Cassiodorus, it is not too far-fetched to assume that at least some of them were culturally active. Ennodius himself, moreover, is a good example of the ways in which the Ostrogothic court attracted young talents, even if for short periods. Ennodius was never a proper courtier. Born into a senatorial family 100 On Theoderic’s political ideology of civilitas, see Moorhead, Theoderic, pp. 78–80; Amory, People and Identity, pp. 43–85. 101 A. Momigliano, ‘Cassiodorus and Italian culture of his time’, in idem, Studies in Historiography (London, 1966), pp. 181–210 at p. 191 [originally published in Proceedings of the British Academy 41 (1955), pp. 207–45]. 102 On Ennodius and his Work, see S.A.H. Kennell, Magnus Felix Ennodius, A Gentleman of the Church (Ann Arbor, 2000). See also Patrologia, pp. 194–200; PLRE, pp. 393–4. An updated bibliography on Ennodius and his work can be found in the web-site ‘Magnus Felix Ennodius goes internet’, at http://www.sbg.ac.at/ges/people/rohr/ennodius/ueberse.htm. 103 On Ennodius’ Correspondence, see Kennell, Magnus Felix Ennodius, esp. pp. 43–84. See also A. Gillett, Envoys and Political Communication in the Late Antique West, 411–533 (Cambridge, 2003), pp. 199–204.

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(although not of the first rank), Ennodius grew up with his aunt in Pavia after his parents had died while he was still an infant. Although he was betrothed to the young daughter of the noble family that took him under its wing after his aunt’s death, Ennodius decided to enter religious life, and joined the clergy of Pavia.104 In this respect he represents a third alternative open for young senatorial aristocrats in Ostrogothic Italy – a career in the Church. Ennodius’ ecclesiastical career, first at the service of Bishop Epiphanius of Pavia (d. 497), subsequently at the service of Bishop Laurentius of Milan (d. 512), and finally as the bishop of Pavia, was rather distinguished, culminating in two papal embassies to Constantinople (in 515 and 517).105 Even a man such as Ennodius could not refrain from seeking the favour of the Ostrogothic king. Church business brought him to Ravenna, where in 507 he delivered a panegyric in honour of the Ostrogothin king Theoderic.106 Delivering a panegyric in honour of the ruler was part of a long-established tradition that went back to the days of the Roman principate.107 But, Ennodius’ panegyric is unique. Not only was it written by a clergyman, who never held secular office, it was written by a Catholic cleric in honour of an Arian king. Scholars are divided in their opinion on the literary qualities of Ennodius’ panegyric, its audience and its aims.108 For our purposes, it will suffice to mention the very fact that such a panegyric was written (and maybe even delivered), and that Ennodius’ heroic effort to compose a highly

104 On Ennodius’ career, see Kennell, Magnus Felix Ennodius, pp. 4–42. 105 On his missions to Constantinople, see Gillett, Envoys and Political Communication, pp. 148–71 and 227–30. 106 On Ennodius’ panegyric, see especially Rohr, Der Theoderich-Panegyricus, pp. 1–64; idem, ‘Überlegungen zu Datierung und Anlaß des TheoderichPanegyricus’, in Ethnogenese und Überlieferung. Angewandte Methoden der Frühmittelalterforschung, ed. K. Brunner and B. Merta, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 31 (Vienna and Munich, 1994), pp. 95–106; S. Rota, Magno Felice Ennodio: Panegirico del Clementissimo re Teoderico (opusc. 1) (Rome, 2002). 107 On panegyrics in Late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages, see S. MacCormack, ‘Latin prose panegyrics’, in Empire and Aftermath, ed. T. Dorey (London, 1975), pp. 73–177; eadem, ‘Latin prose panegyrics: tradition and discontinuity in the later Roman Empire’, Revue des études augustiniennes 22 (1976), pp. 29–77; eadem, Art and Ceremony; Alan Cameron, Claudian: Poetry and Propaganda at the Court of Honorius (Oxford, 1980); G.A. Kennedy, Classical Rhetoric and Its Christian and Secular Tradition from Ancient to Modern Times (London, 1980), pp. 3–181 . See also the various papers in Propaganda of Power: The Role of Panegyric in Late Antiquity, ed. M. Whitby (Leiden, 1998). 108 For some examples, see Kennell, Magnus Felix Ennodius, p. 124, note 198.

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sophisticated and eloquently composite panegyric resulted in a tedious and vague treatise, abstracted beyond all hope of clear meaning. Nevertheless, the gist of Ennodius’ panegyric is patent; it delivers a very blunt political pro-Ostrogothic message, similar to the one found in the writings of Cassiodorus.109 To sum up, in his monumental study of education and culture in the Barbarian West the French historian Pierre Riché noted that although he found it difficult to speak of an ‘Ostrogothic renaissance’, he can grant that Theoderic had realised the importance of classical culture.110 This discussion supports such a view. Theoderic was certainly not illiteratus, nor was he indifferent to the culture that was part and parcel of the Romanitas he so much wanted to adopt and imitate. He surrounded himself with brilliant scholars, whom he recruited from the members of the Roman senatorial aristocracy, and his court became a lodestone to young talents from all over Italy and abroad.111 Theoderic’s encouraging attitude towards learning and education was, most probably, the impetus to yet another cultural enterprise that took place under his rule, that is, the revival of Arian–Gothic literature.

Roman past, Gothic present Theoderic the Great was a devoted Arian Christian, and although he did not persecute Catholics or promote anti-Catholic policies (as his Vandal contemporaries in North Africa did), he certainly made a sincere effort to promote the Arian faith and to support its Church in Ravenna and throughout Italy.112 This, as we have already seen, is apparent in Theoderic’s building policy. When he embarked on his mission to rebuild Ravenna, striving to give it the look and the feel of an imperial capital, 109 See Amory, People and Identity, pp. 112–20; Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 17–18 and 46–7; Reydellet, La royauté dans la literature latine, pp. 141–82; C. Rohr, ‘Das Streben des Ostgotenkönigs Theoderichs nach Legitimität und Kontinuität im Spiegel seiner Kulturpolitik. Beobachtungen zu imperialen Elementen im Theoderich-Panegyricus des Ennodius’, in Integration und Herrschaft: Ethnische Identitäten und soziale Organisation im Frühmittelalter, ed. W. Pohl and M. Diesenberger, Forschungen zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 3 (Vienna, 2002), pp. 227–31. 110 Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 56–60. 111 See the examples of the Ligurian Arator and the Gallic Parthensius. On Arator, see Patrologia, pp. 200–1. On Parthenius, see Arator, Epistula ad Parthenium, ed. A.P. McKinlay, CSEL 72 (Vienna, 1951), pp. 150–3. 112 See Wolfram, History of the Goths, pp. 325–6; Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, pp. 89–97; Amory, People and Identity, pp. 257–63.

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he also made a straightforward attempt to remodel it as an Arian city. The so-called Arian complex at the centre of town described earlier, with the lavish royal chapel of Sant’Apollinare Nuovo, and many other churches and ecclesiastical monuments in and around Ravenna built by the Ostrogothic king and Ravenna’s Arian bishop, became the most prominent feature in the urban landscape of the town.113 It has been commonly accepted by scholars in the past that Arianism was preserved and promoted by the Ostrogoths (as by other Barbarian peoples) because it helped them shape and define their group identity, and it certainly differentiated them from the Roman population they had conquered.114 This view has been challenged lately by Patrick Amory, who argued that ‘the name Goth appealed to the Arian Church in Italy as a means of preserving its identity’; it has nothing to do with Gothic group identity, simply because of the fact that ‘most people who were considered Goths, like most people in Italy, were or became Catholics’.115 The truth, I believe, lies somewhere in between these opposite poles. On the one hand, Arianism was by no means confined to Goths (or any Barbarian people), and many Goths were, in fact, Catholics. According to the Anonymus Valesianus, Theoderic’s own mother was a Catholic, who, at her baptism, changed her Gothic name Erevilia into a ‘proper’ Catholic name Eusebia.116 On the other hand, as pointed out by Amory, the Italian Arian Church became the ecclesia legis Gothorum or the ecclesia Gothica. The fact that such a process was at all possible, and the fact that Theoderic’s conspicuous patronage was intended to ensure the existence of a distinctive Gothic Church, however, meant that the strength of the Arian Church and the Arian community should not be underestimated.117

113 See the list in Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity, pp. 241–4. 114 See, for example, Wolfram, History of the Goths, p. 85; Moorhead, Theoderic in Italy, p. 94; E.A. Thompson, The Visigoths in the Time of Ulfila (Oxford, 1966), pp. 109–10; Z. Rubin, ‘The conversion of the Visigoths to Christianity’, Museum Helveticum 38 (1981), pp. 34–54, at p. 54; P. Heather, ‘The crossing of the Danube and the Gothic conversion’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 27 (1986), pp. 289–318, at pp. 316–17; idem, Goths and Romans, p. 328; idem, The Goths, pp. 312–17; J.C. Russell, The Germanisation of Early Medieval Christianity. A Sociohistorical Approach to Religious Transformation (New York and Oxford, 1994), pp. 139–40. 115 Amory, People and Identity, pp. 236–76, the citations are from pp. 275 and 274 respectively. 116 Anonymus Valesianus, XII.58, ed. and trans. König, p. 78. 117 I shall discuss this issue more fully in my forthcoming book, Western Arianism: Politics and Religious Culture in the Early Medieval West.

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Whether one accepts the traditional view of Gothic Arianism, or the revision offered by Amory, one thing is undisputable – Italy under Ostrogothic rule was a prolific centre of Arian as well as Gothic literature. Most, if not all, of the Gothic manuscripts that survive (many only as palimpsests) and a large portion of the Arian literature that came down to us directly (and not as citations in other, mainly Catholic, sources) were copied in northern Italy during the reign of Theoderic the Great. Let us take, for example, the codex of Verona, Biblioteca capitulare, LI (49), which contains a unique collection of Arian Latin sermons, and which is the only complete surviving Arian manuscript.118 It was copied around 500, possibly in Verona, or maybe in Ravenna, and was used in Verona shortly afterwards.119 The sermons it contains were originally attributed to the Catholic bishop Maximus of Turin (d. c. 423), then they were attributed to a certain Arian bishop named Maximinus (d. after 430) who conducted a disputation with Augustine in 427 or 428, and nowadays they are acknowledged as a composite collection of semons, some of which may have been composed by the Arian Maximinus, but most of which were composed by a number of writers in Italy towards the end of the fifth century.120 Not so long after these sermons were collected and copied, some Gothic glosses were added to the text.121 Another codex that was copied in northern Italy during Theoderic’s reign – Paris, BnF lat. 8907 – contains a collection of various texts related to the Arian controversy, among them an Arian commentary on the canons of the council of Aquileia (held in 381), which was composed in Italy around the 440s.122 Similarly the Skeireins (‘Elucidation’), that is, a

118 CLA, IV.504; R. Gryson, Le receuil arien de Vérone (ms. LI de la Bibliothèque Capitulaire et feuillets inédits de la collection Giustiniani Recanati). Étude codicologiqe et paléographique, Instrumenta Patristica XIII (Steenbrugge and The Hague, 1982). For an edition, see Scripta Arriana latina I, ed. R. Gryson, CCSL 87 (Turnhout, 1982), pp. 1–145. 119 Gryson, Le receuil arien de Vérone, pp. 60–6. 120 Gryson, Le receuil arien de Vérone, pp. 66–71. 121 Gryson, Le receuil arien de Vérone, pp. 77–92. 122 CLA, V.572; R. Gryson and L. Gilissen, Les scolies ariennes du Parisinus latinus 8907: un échantillonage d’écriture latines du Ve siècle (Trunhout, 1980); C.P. Hammond-Bammel, ‘From the school of Maximinus: the Arian material in Paris MS lat. 8907, Journal of Theological Studies 31 (1980), pp. 391–402; R. Gryson and L. Gilissen, ‘Paléographie et critique littéraire: réflexions méthodologiques à propos du Parisinus latinus 8907’, Scriptorium 35 (1981), pp. 334–40. For an edition, see Gryson, Le receuil arien de Vérone, pp. 147–96; Scolies ariennes sur la concile d’Aquilée, ed. and trans. R. Gryson, SC 267 (Paris, 1980).

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Gothic commentary on the Gospel of John that was originally composed in the fourth-century Balkans,123 an Arian commentary on the Gospel of Luke,124 and an Arian liturgical calendar,125 were all copied in northern Italy at the end of the fifth or the very beginning of the sixth century, and are now preserved among the so-called Bobbio palimpsests.126 To these we can add the various fragments of Ulfilas’ Gothic Bible,127 all of which ended up as palimpsests, and the famous Codex Argenteus, which, although not palimpsested, had lost 149 leaves (out of its original 336 leaves) before it was donated to the University of Uppsala in 1669.128 These manuscripts and the works they transmit are extremely revealing. They reflect a unique intellectual preoccupation that characterised some Arian communities in northern Italy, and they are clearly just the tip of a once existing iceberg. The production of so many Arian texts and Gothic de luxe manuscripts in a confined area during a short period of time cannot be accidental. It seems like a concerted effort to preserve a piece of the Gothic past and to revive an independent Arian intellectual identity. Given what we know about Theoderic the Great, the devoted Arian ruler of Ostrogothic Italy, who ordered Cassiodorus to compose the Gothic History and show the world that the Goths also had a glorious past, it is only logical to assume that this intellectual activity was somehow associated with the royal court, if not directly 123 Vatican City, Biblioteca Apostolica, lat. 5750 and Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, E 147 sup.; CLA I.31; W.H. Bennett, The Gothic Commentary on the Gospel of John (New York, 1960); Gryson, Le receuil arien de Vérone, pp. 227–65. See also the splendid web-site of Christian Petersen’s ‘Skeireins Project’ at http://syllabus.gmxhome.de/gotica/Skeireins. 124 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, C 73 inf.; CLA, III.315; Gryson, Le receuil arien de Vérone, pp. 197–225. 125 Milan, Biblioteca Ambrosiana, S 36 sup.; CLA III.364. For an online edition of the Gothic calendar, see http://www.wulfila.be/gothic/text/minora/ Kalender.html. 126 R. Gryson, Les palimpsests ariens latins de Bobbio, Armarium codicum insignia 2 (Turnhout, 1982). 127 On the Gothic Bible and its various fragments, see M.J. Hunter, ‘The Gothic Bible’, in The Cambridge History of the Bible, II – The West from the Fathers to the Reformation, ed. G.W.H. Lampe (Cambridge, 1969), pp. 338–62; P. Heather and J. Matthews, The Goths in the Fourth Century (Liverpool, 1991), pp. 155–73; and see the web-site of the ‘Wulfila Project’ at http://www.wulfila.be. 128 Uppsala, Universitetsbibliotek, DG 1. For a comprehensive bibliography on the Codex Argenteus, see http://www.cs.tut.fi/∼dla/ Codex_Argenteus/Cod_Arg_Bib.html. For a complete digital version of the 1927 facsimile edition, see http://www.ub.uu.se/arv/codex/faksimiledition/ contents.html.

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sponsored by it. It is indeed very tempting to suggest that the splendid Codex Argenteus was, in fact, produced for the king himself, as so many Carolingian Bibles were in later centuries. The Arian intellectual revival in Ostrogothic Italy also proves that cultural activity was not confined to the Roman senatorial aristocracy alone, as some scholars thought. Pierre Riché, for example, was puzzled by that fact that none of Ennodius’ correspondents was a Goth, and that none of the high functionaries at the court of Ravenna (some of whom were even educated at the king’s court) showed any interest in classical culture.129 This, according to him, accords with the general policy of Barbarian kings in the early medieval West, who accepted Roman culture for themselves, but refused it to their people ‘in order to preserve their identity’.130 To support his view Riché cites Procopius, who relates that Theoderic himself ‘would never allow any of the Goths to send their children to school’.131 However, this argument is based on extremely shaky ground. An argument from silence is always hazardous, and the fact that no highly-ranked Goth is mentioned in our sources as a keen supporter of classical culture must not be taken to imply that all Goths refrained from it, or that Goths were prevented from doing so by their king. We are told by the so-called Ravenna Cosmographer that three Goths at the court of Theoderic – Athanaric, Heldebald and Marcomir – produced a comprehensive geographic survey of the world, relying heavily on classical ethnographic literature.132 Bearing all this in mind, a careful reading of Procopius allows for a completely different interpretation. Theoderic was evoked by the Gothic magnates, because they had some serious reservations on the way Amalasuintha raised her son.133 They did not like the fact that Athalaric, who had three Gothic teachers, was educated in letters even before he was trained as a warrior. Such a departure from the old Gothic tradition, they claimed, would not have been accepted by Theoderic, but this cannot be interpreted as a sweeping prohibition on attending Roman schools.

129 Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 62–3. 130 Riché, Education and Culture, p. 64. 131 Procopius, De Bello Gothico, I.ii.14 = Procopius, History of the Wars, V.ii.14, ed. and trans. Dewing, III, pp. 18–19. 132 See F. Staab, ‘Ostrogothic geographers at the court of Theoderic the Great: a study of some sources of the Anonymous Cosmographer of Ravenna’, Viator 7 (1976), pp. 27–64. 133 Procopius, De Bello Gothico, I.ii.1–22 = Procopius, History of the Wars, V.ii.1–22, ed. and trans. Dewing, III, pp. 14–21.

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∗

∗

∗

Ostrogothic Italy was, in many respects, the creation of a single man – Theoderic the Great. His successors did not live up to his achievements, for they did not even have a chance to do so. The tumultuous politics in Italy after Theoderic’s death brought about the collapse of his polity. But, as far as his patronage of cultural activity is concerned, Theoderic had set the tone for future rulers. The king, who welcomed both Boethius and Cassiodorus to his court, became a model for imitation. It is, therefore, not at all surprising to learn that Charlemagne transferred a gilt bronze equestrian statute of Theoderic from Ravenna to his own, newly built, residence at Aachen.134

134 Agnellus of Ravenna, Liber pontificalis Ravennatis, c. 94, ed. Mauskopf-Deliyannis, p. 259–60; Walahfrid Strabo, De Imagine Tetrici, ed. E. Dümmler, MGH Poetae II (Berlin, 1884), Carm. 23, pp. 370–8. On this statute, see F. Thürlemann, ‘Die Bedeutung der Aachener Theoderich-Statute für Karl den Großen (801) und bei Walahfrid Strabo (829). Materialien zur einer Semiotik visueller Objekte im frühen Mittelalter’, Archiv für Kulturgeschichte 59 (1977), pp. 349–72. See also O. Höfler, ‘Theoderich der Große und sein Bild in der Sage’, Österreischische Akademie der Wissenschaften, Phil.- hist. Klasse 111 (1974), pp. 349–72; H. Homeyer, ‘Zu Walahfrid Strabos Gedicht über des Aachener Theoderich-Denkmal’, Studi Medievali 11 (1971), pp. 889–913; P. Godman, Poets and Emperors. Frankish Politics and Carolingian Poetry (Oxford, 1987), 134–6.

3 Out of Africa: The Vandal Court of Thrasamund

In 429 a group of Vandals, mixed with some Alans and Goths, crossed the Straits of Gibraltar and entered Roman Africa.1 Their advance was rather slow and calculated. In 431 Hippo Regius, the site of Augustine’s bishopric, was captured after a siege of three years and was burned to ashes; in 435 parts of Numidia were conceded to the Vandals by a treaty with the Byzantine Emperor Valentian III (425–455); Carthage was conquered in 439; and in 442, after a Vandal fleet had reached Sicily, a second treaty with Byzantium gave the Vandals control over the Roman North-African provinces of Proconsularis, Byzancena, Tripolitania and other parts of Numidia. Little by little the Vandals also gained control of Mauritania and the Mediterranean islands of Corsica, Sardinia and the Balearics, and thus became the most powerful military force in the south west of the Mediterranean and the unrivalled rulers of North Africa. By the early 450s, still under the leadership of Geiseric (428–477), the Vandals were secure enough in their position to participate in Roman factional politics, and consequently in 455 they even sacked Rome, taking with them Valentian III’s widow, Eudoxia, and her two daughters, Eudocia and Galla Placidia.2

1 The starting point on many matters Vandal is still C. Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique (Paris, 1955). For a general survey of Vandal history, see Wolfram, The Roman Empire and Its Germanic Peoples, pp. 157–82; C. Hugoniot, Rome en Afrique. De la chut de Carthage aux debus de la conquête arabe (Paris, 2000), pp. 208–24; A. Cameron, ‘Vandal and Byzantine Africa’, in CAH XIV, pp. 552–69. See also H.J. Diesner, Das Vandalenreich: Aufstieg und Untergang (Stuttgart, Berlin, Cologne and Mainz, 1966); Vandals, Romans and Berbers: New Perspectives on Late Antique North Africa, ed. A.H. Merrills (Aldershot, 2004). 2 Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.iv.36–v.7 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.iv.36–v.7, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp. 44–9. 59

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The Roman provinces conquered by the Vandals, were vast and prosperous.3 Despite sporadic disruptions during the third and the fourth centuries, North Africa was more stable than most provinces of the Roman empire. Commonly renowned as the ‘Granary of Rome’, its wealth was based on agriculture, and its affluent economy provided a steady supply of goods and luxuries. Urban life was thriving and many monumental buildings, sponsored by governors or by wealthy local benefactors, were constructed in the various cities.4 Augustine of Hippo (d. 430) makes repeated references to the urban prosperity of North Africa,5 and other sources yield similar observations. For example, the mid fourth-century survey of the entire world and its people, commonly known as the Expositio totius mundi et gentium, describes Roman North Africa with these words: From this province, one finds the region of Africa rich in everything. It is endowed with all good things, fruits as well as beasts, and almost by itself it provides all the peoples with the oil they need. It has many different cities, one of which, called Carthage, is extraordinary and admirable.    It stands most glorious in its [urban] plan; in fact, the arrangement of its streets is like a tree [plantation]; it is beautiful all around; it has an Odeon and a harbour.    You will also find there an exceptional public building, the street of the goldsmiths. As for

3 The most recent survey on Roman Africa, is D.J. Mattingly and R.B. Hitchner, ‘Roman Africa: an archaeological review’, Journal of Roman Studies 85 (1995), pp. 165–213, and the various papers in Histoire de l’Afrique romaine, 146 avant J.-C.–439 après J.-C., ed. Y. Le Bohec (Paris, 2005). See also Heather, The Fall of the Roman Empire, pp. 272–80; Hugoniot, Rome en Afrique, 15–119; S. Raven, Rome in Africa, rev. edn (London and New York, 1985); B.H. Warmington, The North African Provinces from Diocletian to the Vandal Conquest (Cambridge, 1954). 4 See C. Lepelley, Les cités de l’Afrique romaine au bas-empire, 2 vols. (Paris, 1979–81); idem, ‘The survival and fall of the classical city in Late Roman Africa’, in The City in Late Antiquity, ed. J. Rich (London and New York, 1992), pp. 50–76 [reprinted in idem, Aspects de l’Afrique romaine: les cités, la vie rurale, le christianisme (Bari, 2001), pp. 85–104]; Hugoniot, Rome en Afrique, pp. 120–47; S. Roskams, ‘Urban transition in North Africa: Roman and medieval towns of the Mahgreb’, in Towns in Transition. Urban Evolution in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, ed. N. Christie and S.T. Loseby (Aldershot, 1996), pp. 159–83. 5 See P. Brown, Augustine of Hippo: A Biography, rev. edn (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 2000), esp. pp. 441–520. See also F.M. Clover, ‘Carthage in the Age of Augustine’, in Excavations at Carthage 1976, Conducted by the University of Michigen, IV, ed. J.H. Humphrey (Ann Arbor, 1978), pp. 1–14 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West and the Vandals (Aldershot, 1993), ch. V].

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amusement, the inhabitants get excited about only one spectacle: the games of the amphitheatre. Although this region of Africa is vast, good and rich, its people do not deserve their homeland.6 Archaeological excavations in North Africa in recent years corroborate the monumental scale of public buildings which our sources describe.7 Many of these buildings were constructed and repaired from the reign of Constantius II (337–361) onwards, and they stood in all their glory when the Vandals arrived to appropriate them. The local Roman-African aristocracy, it seems, adopted the Roman life-style, and turned North Africa, at least as far as the popular imagination is concerned, into one of the most ‘Romanised’ regions under Roman rule,8 and one in which Christianity had struck deep roots.9 Did the Vandal occupation of North Africa put an abrupt end to this golden age of civic and ecclesiastical life? The fifth-century North African author Possidius (d. after 437) certainly wants us to believe it did. In his biography of Saint Augustine of Hippo he writes: It was not long after this [i.e. Augustine’s death] that by God’s will and permission, there poured into Africa from across the sea in ships from Spain a huge host of savage enemies armed with every kind of weapon and trained in war. There were Vandals and Alans, mixed with one of the Gothic peoples, and individuals of various nations. They overran the country, spreading all over Mauritania and passing on to our other provinces and territories. There was no limit to their atrocities and cruelties. Everything they could reach they laid waste, with their looting, murders, tortures of all kinds, burning, and countless other unspeakable crimes. They spared neither sex nor age, nor the very 6 Expositio totius mundi et gentium, c. 61, ed. and trans. J. Rougé, SC 124 (Paris, 1966), pp. 200–3. 7 See Mattingly and Hitchner, ‘Roman Africa’, esp. pp. 179–88. See also Excavation at Carthage, Conducted by the University of Michigan, 7 vols. (Ann Arbor, 1975–8); Excavations at Carthage, the British Mission, 4 vols. in 2 (Sheffield and Oxford, 1984–94). 8 See R. MacMullen, Romanisation in the Time of Augustus (New Haven and London, 2000), pp. 30–49. 9 P. Brown, ‘Christianity and local culture in late Roman North Africa’, Journal of Roman Studies 58 (1968), pp. 85–95 [reprinted in idem, Religion and Society in the Age of Saint Augustine (New York, 1972), pp. 279–300]; Y. Duval, ‘L’Afrique: Aurelius et Augustin’, in Histoire du christianisme des origins à nos jours, II – Naissance d’une chrétienté (250–430), ed. C. Pietri and L. Pietri (Paris, 1995), pp. 799–812; Hugoniot, Rome en Afrique, pp. 179–207.

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priests and ministers of God, nor the ornaments and vessels of the churches, nor the buildings.10 Similarly, Victor of Vita, writing towards the end of the fifth-century under Vandal rule and from the distinctive perspective of a Catholic who criticises his Arian rulers,11 describes the Vandal conquest as a total disaster: Finding a province which was at peace and enjoying quiet, the whole land beautiful and flowering on all sides, they [i.e. the Vandals] set to work on it with their wicked forces, laying waste by devastation and bringing everything to ruin with fire and murders. They did not even spare the fruit-bearing orchards, in case people who had hidden in the caves of mountains or steep places or any remote areas would be able to eat the foods produced by them after they had passed. So it was that no place remained safe from being contaminated by them, as they raged with great cruelty, unchanging and relentless.12 Reality, however, was rather different. No doubt the Vandal conquest of North Africa had some devastating effects. Some cities, especially those that did not surrender immediately, suffered some destruction; the economy must have witnessed a short period of disturbing uncertainty, at least until the Vandals’ intentions were made clear; and the mere shock of being conquered by a group of foreign invaders must have 10 Possidius, Vita sancti Augustini, c. 28, ed. M. Pellegrino, Verba seniorum 4 (Alba, 1954), pp. 148–50. I cite the English translation by F.R. Hoare, reprinted and revised in Soldiers of Christ. Saints and Saints’ Lives from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, ed. T.F.X. Noble and T. Head (University Park, PA, 1995), p. 61. 11 On Victor’s treatise, the starting point is C. Courtois, Victor de Vita et son oeuvre: étude critique (Algiers, 1954). See also A. Schwarcz, ‘Bedeutung und textüberlieferung der Historia persecutionis Africanae provinciae des Victor von Vita’, in Historiographie im frühen Mittelalter, ed. A. Scharer and G. Scheibelreiter, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 32 (Vienna and Munich, 1994), pp. 115–40; D. Shanzer, ‘Intentions and audiences: history, hagiography, martyrdom, and confession in Victor of Vita’s Historia Persecutionis’, in Vandals, Roman and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 271–90, and see there for further bibliography. 12 Victor of Vita, Historia persecutionis Africanae provinciae, I.3, ed. and trans. S. Lancel, Victor de Vita: Histoire de la persécution vandale en Afrique (Paris, 2002), p. 98. I cite the English translation by J. Moorhead, Victor of Vita: History of the Vandal Persecution (Liverpool, 1992), p. 3.

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had its effect on the morale and self-confidence of the Roman-African population. This was the worst nightmare of any Roman provincial since the sack of Rome by Alaric and his Goths in 410, and the desperation in face of the Vandal conquest, which our sources convey, is quite understandable. Yet, the devastation described by Possidius and Victor of Vita is a drastic exaggeration, not to say a travesty. There is enough evidence to suggest that life in the Roman provinces of North Africa continued with minor interruptions and no dramatic transformations under Vandal rule. First, one must constantly bear in mind that the Vandals, like all the Barbarian peoples who established kingdoms in the post-Roman world, were greatly outnumbered by the population they had conquered.13 Hence, their ability to enforce major changes, at least during the first stage of occupation, was rather limited, and there is no indication whatsoever that they actually intended to do so. Moreover, the patterns of Vandal settlement in North Africa makes it clear that their authority and influence were largely limited to the provinces of Africa Proconsularis and Byzancena.14 Second, the Vandal leaders from Geiseric onwards relied heavily on the local elite to maintain the Roman administration.15 The African-Roman nobility formed the backbone of the central as well as the local bureaucracy throughout Vandal North Africa,16 and many of the provincial aristocrats continued to hold their traditional Roman titles, which had clear imperial connotations.17 Third, the

13 The number of the Vandals who invaded North Africa in 429 is estimated at 80,000 including non-combatants. See W. Goffart, Barbarians and Romans, A.D. 418–584. The Techniques of Accommodation (Princeton, 1980), pp. 231–4. 14 See Y. Modéran, ‘L’établissement territorial des Vandales en Afrique’, Antiquité tardive 10 (2002), pp. 87–122; A. Schwarcz, ‘The settlement of the Vandals in North Africa’, in Vandals, Romans and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 49–57. 15 See Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, pp. 215–71. See also F.M. Clover, ‘The symbiosis of Romans and Vandals in Africa’, in Das Reich und die Barbaren, ed. E. Chrysos and A. Schwarcz, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 29 (Vienna and Cologne, 1989), pp. 57–72 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. X]; J.H.W.G. Liebeschuetz, ‘Gens into regnum: the Vandals’, in Regna and Gentes. The Relationship between Late Antique and Early Medieval Peoples and Kingdoms in the Transformation of the Roman World, ed. H.-W. Goetz, J. Jarnut and W. Pohl, The Transformation of the Roman World 13 (Leiden and Boston, 2003), pp. 55–83. 16 See Barnwell, Emperors, Perfects and Kings, esp. p. 116–23; Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages, pp. 88–9. 17 See A. Chastagnol and N. Duval, ‘Les survivances du culte imperial dans l’Afrique du Nord à l’époque vandale’, in Mélanges d’histoire ancienne offerts

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North-African economy continued to prosper. Although some archaeologists detect a certain decline in the North-African economic activity during the fifth century, this drop-off seems to have started long before the Vandal conquest. Throughout the fifth century North Africa continued to export a variety of goods to major ports in the Mediterranean.18 Furthermore, the famous Albertini tablets, that is, the 45 wooden tablets recording acts of sale executed between 493 and 496, document quite neatly the continuation of late Roman landowning practices under Vandal rule.19 Finally, excavations at Carthage and other cities in the provinces of Africa Proconsularis and Byzancena confirm that city life continued to flourish well into the Vandal period, and it seems that the Vandal kings and their followers were engaged in major building enterprises, both in the cities and around them.20 Procopius of Caesarea, who describes the Vandal life-style on the eve of the Byzantine invasion, did not fail to notice the striking continuity with Roman practices: For of all the nations which we know that of the Vandals is the most luxurious    For the Vandals, since the time when they gained possession of Libya, used to indulge in baths, all of them, every day, and enjoyed a table abounding in all things, the sweetest and best that the earth and sea produce. And they wore gold very generally, and clothed themselves in the Medic garments, which now they call ‘seric’, and passed their time, thus dressed, in theatres and hippodromes and in other pleasurable pursuits, and above all else in à William Stenton (Paris, 1974), pp. 78–118; F.M. Clover, ‘Emperor worship in Vandal Africa’, in Romanitas–Christianitas: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte und Literatur der römischen Kaiserzeit, ed. G. Wirth (Berlin, 1982), pp. 661–74 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. VII] 18 See McCormick, Origins of the European Economy, pp. 100–3. See also Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages, pp. 78–92. 19 See Tablettes Albertini. Actes privés de l’époque vandale (fin du Ve siècle), ed. C. Courtois, L. Leschi, C. Perrat and C. Saumagne (Paris, 1952). On the Albertini Tablets, see J.P. Conant, ‘Literacy and private documentation in Vandal North Africa: the case of the Albertini Tablets’, in Vandals, Romans and Bebers, ed. Merrills, pp. 199–234, and see there for further bibliography. On the taxes of Vandal North-Africa, see Wickham, Framing the Early Middle Ages, pp. 89–92. 20 See Mattingly and Hitchner, ‘Roman Africa’, esp. pp. 209–13; A. Ben Abed and N. Duval, ‘Carthage, la capitale du royaumme et les villes de Tunisie à l’époque vandale’, in Sedes regiae, ed. Ripoll and Gurt, pp. 163–218. See also Excavation at Carthage, Conducted by the University of Michigan, passim; Excavations at Carthage, the British Mission, passim.

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hunting. And they had dancers and mimes and all other things to hear and see which are of a musical nature or otherwise merit attention among men. And the most of them dwelt in parks, which were well supplied with water and trees; and they had great numbers of banquets, and all manners of sexual pleasures were in great vogue among them.21 The Vandals’ passion for luxury clothes, good cuisine, banquets, baths and entertainments suggests that they adopted the habits of the late Roman provincial aristocracy. Notwithstanding this continuity, there were bound to be some changes. The introduction of the new Vandal elite was, no doubt, a major disruption to the traditional social order of Roman North Africa.22 The curiales, who throughout the third and fourth centuries steadily abandoned their municipal duties, were most badly hurt and, as pointed out by Averil Cameron, the curial patronage which characterised late Roman North Africa came to an abrupt end with the Vandal conquest.23 Moreover, the Arianism of the conquerors, who, at times, were less than tolerant to their Catholic subjects,24 must have shaken the ecclesiastical hierarchy as well as the social mood of the North-African population.25 Yet, the overall impression which our sources yield is that of continuity, rather than destruction and calamity.26 After decades of Vandal rule, North Africa was still a 21 Procopius, De Bello Vandalico II.vi.5–9 = Procopius, History of the Wars, IV.vi.5–9, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, p. 257. 22 F.M. Clover, ‘Carthage and the Vandals’, in Excavations at Carthage, VII, ed. Humphrey, pp. 1–22 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. VI]; idem, ‘The symbiosis of Romans and Vandals’. 23 Cameron, ‘Vandal and Byzantine Africa’, p. 555. 24 On the Vandal persecutions of Catholics, see Y. Modéran, ‘L’Afrique et la persécution vandale’, in Histoire du christianismè des origins à nos jours, III – Les Églises d’Orient et d’Occident, ed. L. Pietri (Paris, 1998), pp. 247–78, and see there for further bibliography. See also A. Placanica, ‘La Cristianità africana tra Arrianus furor e subreptiones Acephalorum’, in Le invasioni barbariche nel meridione dell’imperio: Visogoti, Vandali, Ostrogoti. Atti del Convegno svoltosi alla Casa delle Culture di Cosenza dal 24 al 26 Iuglio 1998, ed. P. Delogu (Rome, 2001), pp. 181–242. 25 See, for example, M.A. Handley, ‘Disputing the end of African Christianity’, in Vandals, Romans and Bebers, ed. Merrills, pp. 291–310. 26 See Clover, ‘Carthage and the Vandals’; Mattingly and Hitchner, ‘Roman Africa’, especially pp. 209–13; Merrills, ‘Vandals, Romans and Berbers’, in Vandals, Romans and Bebers, ed. Merrills, pp. 3–28, at pp. 3–24; J.P. Conant, Staying Roman: Vandals, Moors, and Byzantines in Late Antique North Africa,

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prosperous province, with a flourishing economy, thriving churches (Arian as well as Catholic),27 and booming cultural life. It was indeed a bastion of Romanitas, with a distinctive African tint, in a changing world.28

The cultural heritage of Roman North Africa Late Roman North Africa was a prolific centre of literary activity.29 It had a tradition of writing, whose most prominent early representatives are the playwright Terence, who reached Rome from North Africa as a slave in the second century BC; the poet Marcus Manilius, who wrote under Augustus (d. 14) and Tiberius (d. 37); and Lucius Aenaeus Cornutus, who became a teacher of philosophy and rhetoric at Rome around the middle of the first century.30 But, it was only during the later Roman period, from the mid-second century onwards, that Roman-Africans dominated the intellectual life of the Empire. The list of authors and scholars, whose origins can be traced back to Africa, is long, and it includes some illustrious names, such as the orator Fronto (d. c. 166); Aulus Gellius (d. c. 180), the author of the so-called Noctes Atticae (‘Attic Nights’); Apuleius of Madaurus (d. c. 170), whose Metaphorphoses (commonly know as ‘The Golden Ass’) is the sole complete Latin novel surviving from the Roman period; Gaius Marius Victorinus,

27

28

29

30

400–700 (unpublished PhD. dissertation, Harvard University; Cambridge MA, 2004). See the so-called Notitia provinciarum et civitatum Africae, ed. and trans. S. Lancel, in Victor de Vita: Histoire de la persécution vandale en Afrique (Paris, 2002), pp. 252–72. On this document, see Lancel’s introduction at pp. 223–48. On the distinctive local tint of African Romanitas, see F. Millar, ‘Local cultures in the Roman empire: Libyan, Punic, and Latin in Roman Africa’, Journal of Roman Studies 58 (1968), pp. 125–51. See also Y. Modéran, Les Maures et l’Afrique romaine (IVe – VIe siècle), Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athène et de Rome 314 (Rome, 2003); F.M. Clover, ‘Felix Karthago’, in Tradition and Innovation in Late Antiquity, ed. F.M. Clover and R.S. Humphreys (Madison, 1989), pp. 129–69, also in Dumbarton Oaks Papers 40 (1986), pp. 1–16 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. IX]. For a general survey of African authors from Antiquity to the Vandal period, see J. Fontaine, S. Lancel, P. Langlois, A. Mandouze and H. Brackmann, ‘Africa II (literaturgeschichtlich)’, in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum. Sachwörterbuch zur Auseinandersetzung des Christentums mit der antiken Welt, ed. T. Klauser et al., Supp. I.2 (Stuttgart, 1985), pp. 134–228. On these literary figures, see the relevant entries in OCD and CHCL II.

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the fourth century author of several philosophical, rhetorical and grammatical treatises; the historian Aurelius Victor (d. after 389), whose Historiae abbreviatae (also known as De Caesaribus) covers the history of the Roman empire from Augustus to Constantine, and is one of the few reliable sources on the tumultuous events of the third century; Helvius Vindicianus, who, according to Augustine, was the most famous physician in late fourth-century Carthage;31 and, of course, Martianus Capella,32 the author of an idiosyncratic commentary on the seven liberal arts, entitled De nuptiis philologiae et Mercurii (‘The Marriage of Philology and Mercury’), which had a wide circulation throughout the Middle Ages.33 Similarly, late Roman North Africa played an important role in the development of early Christian thought. Some of the first and most prominent Christian apologists came from Africa. Tertullian (d. c. 225), Minucius Felix (late 2nd and early 3rd century), Cyprian (d. 258), the poet Commodian (mid 3rd century), Arnobius (late 3rd and early 4th century) and his student Lactantius (d. c. 325), were all natives of North Africa, and their role in defending Christian belief and in laying the foundations of Christian theology cannot be overemphasised.34 Moreover, some of the most heated theological debates of early Christianity, such as the Donatist controversy, took place in North Africa,

31 Augustine, Epistulae, Ep.138, c. 3, ed. A. Goldbacher, CSEL 44 (Vienna and Leipzig, 1904), pp. 128–9. See also Augustine, Confessiones, IV.3(5), ed. and trans. J. O’Donnell, 3 vols (Oxford, 1992), I, pp. 34–5, with notes in II, pp. 214–16. 32 The date of De nuptiis philologiae et Mercurii is much disputed among scholars. While some dated it to the late fourth century, others opted for a date in the late fifth century. I tend to agree with those who date the work to 410–439, and hence refrain from arguing that it was written under Vandal rule. On the date of Martianus’ composition, see the succinct discussion in M. Teeuwen, Harmony and the Music of the Spheres. The Ars Musica in Ninth-Century Commentaries on Martianus Capella, Mittellateinische Studien und Texte 30 (Leiden, Boston and Cologne, 2002), pp. 9–20, and see there for further bibliography. 33 On all these scholars and authors, see the relevant entries in OCD; CHCL II; PLRE; and PCBE. See also C. Lepelley, ‘Quelques parvenus de la culture de l’Afrique romaine tardive’, in De Tertullien aux Mozarabes. Mélanges offerts à Jacques Fontaine Membre de l’Institut à l’occasion de son 70e anniversaire, par ses èleves, amis et collègues, ed. L. Holz and J.-C. Fredouille, 2 vols (Paris, 1992), I, pp. 583–94. 34 On all these figures, see the relevant entries in ODCC; PLRE; PCBE; Patrology, ed. J. Quasten and A. di Berardino, 4 vols (Utrecht and Westminster, MD, 1950–1986). See also Lepelley, ‘Quelques parvenus’.

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forcing scholars like Tyconius (d. c. 400) and Optatus of Milevis (second half of the 4th century) to use all their intellectual talent to defend their doctrinal views.35 This proliferation of Christian literature in North Africa is also reflected in the Jerome-Gennadius’ De viris illustribus, an annotated list of Christian authors composed by Jerome towards the end of the fourth century and updated by Gennadius of Marseilles towards the end of the fifth-century,36 to which a short list of thirteen African authors (commonly known as the Appendix Africana) was added sometime in the second half of the sixth century.37 And one should not forget Augustine of Hippo, the most illustrious product of the North Africa’s educational system, whose numerous writings moulded Christian theology so formatively.38 The African intellectual achievement is indeed impressive, and it was made possible thanks to an advanced network of intellectual centres. The schools of Carthage, for example, were renowned throughout the Roman world for the excellence of their teachers and students. Even Salvian of Marseilles, who never missed an opportunity to scourge and defame the inhabitants of North Africa, praised the intellectual establishments at Carthage: In that city were located all the agencies of public office, there were the schools of liberal arts, there the workshops of the philosophers, and finally all the schools for languages and ethics.39

35 On the Donatist controversy and its protagonists, see W.H.C. Frend, The Donatist Church: A Movement of Protest in Roman North Africa, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1985). See also J.L. Maier, Le dossier du Donatisme, Texte und Untersuchungen 134–135 (Berlin, 1987). 36 See Jerome-Gennadius, De viris inlustribus, ed. E.C. Richardson, Texte und Untersuchungen 14 (Leipzig, 1896). On this treatise, see R.H. Rouse and M.A. Rouse, ‘Bibliography before print: the medieval De viris illustribus’, in The Role of the Book in Medieval Culture. Proceedings of the Oxford International Symposium, 26 September–1 October 1982, ed. P. Ganz, 2 vols, Bibliologia 3–4 (Turnhout, 1986), I, pp. 133–53, at pp. 134–6; McKitterick, The Carolingians and the Written Word, pp. 200–5. 37 For the text of the Appendix Africanae, see Isidor of Seville, De viris illustribus, cc. 1–4 and 6–14, PL 83, cols. 1084–91. On the Appendix, see H. Koeppler, ‘De viris illustribus and Isidore of Seville’, Journal of Theological Studies 37 (1936), pp. 16–34, at pp. 26–8; C. Codoñer Merino, El ‘De viris illustribus’ de Isidoro de Sevilla. Estudi y Edicion Critica (Salamanca, 1964), pp. 26–41. 38 See The Cambridge Companion to Augustine, ed. E. Stump and N. Kretzman (Cambridge, 2001), and see there for further bibliography. 39 Salvian of Marseilles, De Gubernatione Dei, VII.xvi.68, ed. Lagarrigue, p. 478 [trans. O’Sullivan, The Writings of Salvian the Presbyter, p. 208].

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Carthage’s schools were still fully active when Geiseric and his army took control of North Africa, and they seem to have continued to operate as intellectual centres under Vandal rule.40 Even the initial disruption, which the conquest must have caused, did not last for long and shortly many schools renewed their activity. We can list the names of several Cathaginian magistri,41 such as Coronatus, who dedicated his work on the liberal arts to the poet Luxorius;42 Calcidius, to whom Fulgenius the Myhtographer dedicated his treatise on old and rather obscure words;43 or Pompeius, who wrote a commentary on Donatus.44 We know that towards the end of the fifth century Faustus had a school in the forum, where Luxorius studied,45 and Felicianus the grammarian, Dracontius’ own teacher, was praised for bringing back to Africa the literature that had left it.46 Carthage’s schools played an important role in the history of Latin culture in the empire and throughout the Vandal period, but they were not alone. Other cities in Vandal North Africa witnessed a similar vigour of school activity. Victor of Vita, for example, acquired his education in his eponymous hometown;47 Fulgentius of Ruspe was sent to school

40 Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 37–8. See also Marrou, A History of Education, p. 294. K. Vössing, Schule und Bildung im Nordafrika der Römischen Kaiserzeit, Collection Latomus 238 (Brussels, 1997), pp. 624–31 takes a dimmer view of the Vandal period, but, unfortunately, in this matter his views are not based on a close reading of the sources. 41 For the use of the title magister in Vandal North Africa, see Conant, ‘Literacy and private documentation’, pp. 223–4. For its general menaing in the Middle Ages, see M. Teeuwen, The Vocabulary of Intellectual Life in the Middle Ages, Études sur le vocabulaire intellectuel du Moyen Ages 10 (Turnhout, 2003), pp. 95–7. 42 See Coronatus’ dedication letter, in H. Keil, De grammaticis quibusdam latinis infimae aetatis commentatio (Erlangen, 1868), p. 4; reprinted with an English translation in M. Rosenblum, Luxorius: A Latin Poet among the Vandals, Records of Civilization: Sources and Studies 62 (New York and London, 1961), pp. 259–60. 43 See Fulgentius, Expositio sermonum antiquorum, prologus, ed. R. Helm, Teubner (Leipzig, 1898; rev. 1970), p. 111. 44 See Pompeius, Commentum artis Donati, in Grammatici Latini, ed. H. Keil, 8 vols, Teubner (Leipzig, 1855–80), V, pp. 81–312, at p. 205. 45 Anthologia Latina, I – Carmina in codicibus scripta, i – Libri Salmasiani aliorumque carmina, no. 282, ed. D.R. Shackleton-Bailey, Teubner (Stuttgart, 1982), pp. 235–6. 46 Dracontius, Romulea, I, line 13, ed. and trans. J. Bouquet and E. Wolff, La tragédie d’Oreste, Poèmes profanes, Fragments, 2 vols (Paris, 1995–6), I, p. 134. 47 On the education of Victor, see Courtois, Victor de Vita, pp. 64–75.

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at Theleptus, after beginning his studies at home;48 and Corippus, to give just one more example, taught at several provincial towns before coming to Carthage.49 Throughout the Roman provinces of North Africa schools and other intellectual establishments flourished, and our sources abound in allusions to grammarians, rhetorician, lawyers, physicians and well-educated citizens.50 No wonder that some African students developed brilliant careers, and that teachers from North Africa were welcome in other famous intellectual centres, such as Rome or Milan. Against this background, the continuity of literary activity into the Vandal period seems nothing but natural and appropriate. But scholars in the past, emphasising the fact that some of the Vandal kings had exiled numerous Catholic bishops and priests, argued that by these acts the Vandals had ruined beyond repair the intellectual foundation of Roman North Africa. It is true that after Augustine North Africa never again generated the same quantity and quality of literary and philosophical work. But which part of the Roman West did? And should Augustine, one of the most prolific men in human history, really be the yardstick according to which any intellectual activity is measured? No one could rival Augustine, and the fact that less scholarship was produced in North Africa after his death must not be taken as a sign of decline and fall. It is impossible to gauge the effect of the Vandal kings’ measures against Catholic bishops and priests. Our evidence is extremely fragmentary and exceptionally biased. However, even from the little evidence that survives, it is clear that Vandal North Africa produced a remarkable number of authors and highly qualified intellectuals. It will suffice to mention the grammarians Faustus, Felicianus, Chalcidius, Pompeius and Calbulus, the poets Coronatus, Luxorius, Cato, Felix, Florentinus, Reposianus and Dracontius, the Christian authors Quodvuldeus, Eugenius of Carthage, Vigilius of Thapsus, Victor of Vita, Fulgentius of Ruspe and Ferrandus, as well as the many lawyers, philosophers and physicians mentioned in our sources, among them Cassius Felix who translated Galen’s work into Latin, in order to convince

48 Ferrandus, Vita sancti Fulgentii episcopi Ruspensis, 1, ed. G.-G. Lapeyre (Paris, 1929), p. 13. 49 See Laistner, Thought and Letters, pp. 113–14. 50 On the schools of late Roman North Africa, see Vössing, Schule und Bildung im Nordafrika, passim.

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the reader that no decline was at stake.51 As already noted by Pierre Riché, ‘in Africa    scholarly life was maintained more substantially than elsewhere’.52 How many Vandals took part in this vibrant intellectual activity is very difficult to assess. None of the authors known to us has a typical Vandal name, and we cannot really tell whether behind any of the Roman names stood a ‘true’ Vandal. It has been suggested in the past that the poet Dracontius was half Vandal,53 but even this assertion cannot be ascertained before more evidence on Dracontius and his ancestry is unearthed. Nevertheless, some bits and pieces of information scattered in our sources clearly point to the fact that Vandals did not remain indifferent to the cultural activity that swept their kingdom. Dracontius himself tells us that his own teacher, the grammarian Felicianus, welcomed Vandal boys into his auditorium.54 From Victor of Vita we learn that the Vandals were fluent in Latin, and that their Roman– African neighbours were well aware of it. During the church council that was summond by King Huneric (477–484) in 484, the Arian Bishop Cyrila tried to evade the pertinent questions put forward by the Catholic bishops by arguing that he did not know Latin. To this, the Catholic bishops immediately replied: ‘We know very well that you have always spoken Latin’.55 Latin, so it seems, was the spoken language among the

51 On all these authors and thinkers, see the relevant entries in PLRE II and PCBE. See also Fontaine et al., ‘Africa II’, cols. 201–7; D.F. Bright, ‘Intellectual continuity in Vandal North Africa’, in From Hanibal to Saint Augustine. Ancient Art of North Africa from the Musée du Louvre, ed. M. Seefried-Brouillet (Atlanta, 1994), pp. 131–4; M. Simonetti, ‘Letteratura cristiana d’Africa’, in Patrologia, pp. 19–57. 52 Riché, Education and Culture, p. 39. 53 It was first suggested by D. Kuijper, Varia Dracontiana (The Hague, 1958), pp. 7–9; and more recently supported by D.F. Bright, The Miniature Epic of Vandal Africa (Norman and London, 1987), pp. 14–15 and 66–8. For a different view, see D. Romano, Studi Draconziani (Palermo, 1959), pp. 10–12; J.M. Diaz de Bustamante, Draconcio y sus carmina profana: estudio biografico, introduccion y edicion critica (Santiago de Compostela, 1978), pp. 38–43. 54 Dracontius, Romulea, I, lines 12–13, ed. and trans. Bouquet and Wolff, I, p. 134. Unlike Bright (The Miniature Epic, p. 67), I do not think that ‘barbari’ in this case should be interpreted as an insult. There is plenty of cases, especially in the law codes, where ‘barbarus’ was used by the Barbarians themselves, without any pejorative meaning whatsoever. 55 Victor of Vita, Historia persecutionis, II.55, ed. Lancel, p. 147 [trans. Moorhead, Victor of Vita, p. 44].

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Vandals of North Africa,56 and there is little doubt that they shared the linguistic and cultural heritage of their subjects. After all, the Vandals were not newcomers. They had spent almost a century on the borders of the Roman empire and more than two decades on Roman territory before crossing the Straits of Gibraltar,57 and like all the Barbarian peoples who had contacts with the Roman empire they were Romanised long before conquering North Africa.58 Hence, a statement such as ‘to judge from all the evidence, the Vandals were entirely illiterate’,59 is, if meant literally, plain nonsense. Nothing in our sources justifies such a superficial judgement, which again encompasses the bias and shortcomings of Renaissance and Humanistic thought. Could anyone imagine the Vandal kings, who dressed in imperial style,60 adopted the signs of triumphal rulership,61 minted coins,62 convened church councils,63 exchanged delegations and correspondence with other rulers in Europe and Byzantium,64 deported (and not simply murdered) religious and political dissidents, and commissioned ambitious buildings in the capital, being ‘entirely illiterate’? It is true that the Vandals did not produce their own historian on the model of Gregory of Tours, Bede or Paul the Deacon. None of the Vandal kings, so far as we know, shared the intellectual aspirations of the Frankish King Chilperic (561–84) or the Visigothic King Sisebut

56 See Courtois, Les Vandales et L’Afrique, pp. 221–5. See also A. Isola, ‘A proposito dell’inscitia dei Vandali secundo Fulg., Ad Tras., 1, 2, 2’, Romanobarbarica 13 (1994–5), pp. 57–74. 57 See Wolfram, The Roman Empire and Its Germanic People, pp. 159–67; Diesner, Das Vandalenreich, pp. 17–43. 58 See the discussion above, pp. 62–6. 59 Bright, The Miniature Epic, p. 12. See also, idem ‘Intellectual continuity in North Africa’, p. 131: ‘   since the Vandals were illiterate   ’. 60 Anthologia Latina, no. 371, lines 12–14, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 287; Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.xx.21 and II.ix.12 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.xx.21 and IV.ix.12, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp 174–5 and 282–3 respectively. 61 McCormick, Eternal Victory, pp. 263–6. 62 See, for example, Clover, ‘Felix Karthago’. 63 See, for example, the Church council convened by Huneric in 484. j Victor of Vita, Historia persecutionis, II.38–55, ed. and trans. Lancel, pp. 139–47; Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, pp. 296–9. 64 See, for example, Gillet, Envoys and Political Communication, pp. 67–70. See also the correspondence between Theoderic and the Vandal Kings Thrasamund and Hilderic, in Cassiodorus, Variae, V.43–4 and IX.1, ed. Fridh, pp. 220–2 and 345–6 respectively.

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(d. 621),65 and none of the literary works composed in Vandal North Africa can securely be attributed to a Vandal author. And yet, it is hard to imagine that the Vandals, who never made any attempt to impose their own culture upon the Roman-African population, remained indifferent to the burgeoning cultural activity around them. Although the evidence is fragmentary and inconclusive, it seems to indicate a certain Vandal involvement in cultural activity, which becomes even clearer when we reach the time of Thrasamund. Whereas the activity of scholars such as Quodvuldeus, Victor of Vita or Vigilius of Thapsus, who wrote in the second half of the fifth century, shortly after North Africa turned Vandal, may be interpreted as the last afterglows of a glorious Roman past, the literary activity during the late fifth and early sixth century can only be understood as a Vandal phenomenon. An unprecedented flow of written works on a variety of topics demonstrate quite forcefully that, around the year 500, North Africa was still an active and lively cultural centre, that embraced and preserved Roman intellectual traditions. This resurgence of cultural activity, which was dubbed by some enthusiastic scholars as the ‘Vandal Renaissance’,66 reached its peak during the reign of Thrasamund (496–523), and continued well into the reign of his successor, Hilderic (523–530). More than sixty years after the first Vandals set foot on North-African soil, this intellectual proliferation cannot be attributed to the Roman past, but to the Vandal present. Let us, then, look closely at King Thrasamund and the scholarly activity in his time.

King Thrasamund and the ‘Vandal Renaissance’ In 496, Thrasamund, one of Geiseric’s grandsons, succeeded his bother Gunthamund (484–96) on the Vandal throne.67 He was, as many

65 On Chilperic’s intellectual aspirations, see Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, VI.46, ed. Krusch and Levison, pp. 320–1. For Chilperic’s hymn, the only one that survives, see W. Bulst, Hymni latini antiquiores lxxv, Psalmi iii (Heidelberg, 1956), p. 119; and see also D. Norberg, La poesie latine rythmique du haut Moyen Age (Stockholm, 1954), pp. 31–40. On King Sisebut’s intellectual activity, see ch. 5. 66 See, for example, H.-J. Diesner, Die Auswirkungen der Religionspolitik Thrasamund und Hilderichs aus Ostgoten und Byzantiner, Sitzungsberichte der sächsischen Akademie der Wissenschaft zu Leipzig, phil.-hist. Klasse 113.3 (Berlin, 1967), p. 18. 67 On the succession patterns among the Vandals, see Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, pp. 238–42; D. Claude, ‘Probleme der vandalischen

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scholars have pointed out, the most illustrious and able of the Vandal kings.68 Even Procopius agreed that ‘Thrasamund was    the strongest and most powerful of all those who had ruled over the Vandals’,69 and adds that he was ‘a man well-favoured in appearance and especially gifted with discretion and highmindedness ( o´)’.70 He had friendly relations with the Byzantine Emperor Anastasius I (491–518),71 as well as with the Ostrogothic King Theoderic, whose newly widowed sister, Amalafrida, he married in 500 or thereabout.72 During his reign North Africa witnessed a period of relative peace and quiet. The economy was booming, exiled Catholics were allowed to return to their hometowns, and the cultural life was thriving again. No wonder Thrasamund’s praise was sung by several poets and writers of his time. The poet Florentinus, for example, dedicated to Thrasamund a poem in hexameter celebrating the anniversary of his accession. It is worthwhile citing this poem in full: I shall praise the royal celebrations made festive by yearly vows. The imperial splendour of Thrasamund, ruler of Libya, is the world’s renown – just as the sun, glittering more brightly than the entire radiate universe, stands forth above all the stars. [5] Reverence and foresight converge in this man, as do good character, bravery, handsome appearance, distinction, spirit, vigorous education and a very adroit intelligence that watches over everything. But why do I tarry further? Or why betake myself to a side path? Thrasamund alone has everything that is highly regarded in the whole earth’s circuit. [10] Parthia glitters brilliantly with so many precious stones. Lydia’s Pactolus furrows so many ruddy stands. The silk people dye so many fleeces of changing colour, granting by their precious garment – all vestments which blaze forth when purple

68 69 70 71 72

Herrschaftsnachfolge’, Deutsche Archiv 30 (1974), pp. 329–55; W. Pohl, ‘The Vandals: fragments of narratives’, in Vandals, Romans and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 31–47, at pp. 41–2. See, for example, Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, pp. 266–7; Wolfram, The Roman Empire and its Germanic Peoples, pp. 175–6. Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.viii.13 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.viii.13, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp. 76–7. Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.viii.8 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.viii.8, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp. 74–5. Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.viii.14 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.viii.14, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp. 76–7. Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.viii.11–12 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.viii.11–12, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp. 76–7.

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dye is added – rewards to deserving rulers. [15] Africa pours forth profusely the fruits of the illustrious olive tree. The earth’s produce – all that earns praise throughout the world – has entered your realm. The Creator on high has granted and allowed you alone to possess all these things. With you as king the citadel of Carthage shines forth steadily. [20] Her offspring Alianae follows her with uneven step, her equal in esteem and distinction. The ruler’s love for her caught fire most brightly. He built her, famous for her lovely site and her robust breezes. She deserved to bear the step of a deserving ruler. [25] Here the channel resounds beneath the marble-smooth swirl of the sea. Here the earth’s riches rise up from the verdant soil, so that Our Master enjoys the magnificence of land and sea. Carthage, yes Carthage, retains her repute by her summits and by her king. Carthage the victress – [30] Carthage, the mother city of the Hasdingi – triumphs. Carthage glitters. In all of Libya’s lands Carthage, yes Carthage, is eminent. Carthage is adorned with learning. Carthage is embellished with teachers. Carthage is rich in peoples. Carthage is radiant. Carthage is well-endowed with houses. Carthage abounds with walls. [35] Carthage is savoury. Carthage is nectar-sweet. Carthage flourishes, ruling in the name of Thrasamund. So that her empire might remain fortunate throughout the ages, we desire to observe yearly festivals for Our Master for many years, while he seeks anew the illustrious celebration of his rule.73 The poet’s flattery is obvious. It follows a long-established literary tradition of encomia, whose purpose was to glorify the ruler and praise his deeds.74 A superscript note in the so-called Codex Salmasianus, the earliest manuscript evidence of this poem, explicitly states that ‘these are the verses composed by Florentinus in praise of the king’ (hi sunt versus a Florentino in laudem regis facto[sic!]),75 and the content of this poem clearly reflects the late Roman panegyric tradition. According to Florentinus, Thrasamund is strong and brave, handsome and decisive. Under his rule the economy is booming and the people are happy. He 73 Anthologia Latina, no. 371, ed. Schakleton-Bailey, pp. 286–8. I cite the English translation from Clover, ‘Felix Karthago’, p. 152. On this poem, see Clover, ‘Felix Karthago’, pp. 151–4. 74 On panegyrics in Late Antiquity and the early Middle Ages, see above, p. 52, note 107. 75 See Anthologia Latina, ed. Schakleton-Bailey, p. 286. On the Codex Salmasianus, see below.

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takes good care of his subjects and he decorates his capital with monumental buildings. And yet, Florentinus’ hexameters are also revealing in other ways. With a careful selection of words and images, the poet casts Thrasamund in the mould of a Roman emperor. He begins by mentioning the imperial vota (line 1), that is, the celebrations usually held every five or ten years on the day of the emperor’s accession, which the Vandal kings adopted and renewed.76 He notes the ‘imperial splendour’ of Thrasamund’s reign (line 2), and twice he calls him dominus (lines 27 and 38), the imperial title which the Vandal adopted since the time of Gunthamund.77 The Vandal hegemony is described as imperium (line 37), and the king’s own virtues are listed (lines 5–7), using imperial terminology, such as pietas and prudentia (line 5). This poem, with its effusive admiration to Africa and Carthage under Thrasamund, was, on the one hand, an efficient means of political propaganda, and on the other hand, a clear statement of the Vandal king’s goals and aspirations. Among the many traits listed by Florentius in his laudatory poem, a prominent place was given to Thrasamund’s intellectual qualities – ‘   spirit, vigorous education and a very adroit intelligence   ’ (lines 6–7). Moreover, towards the end of the poem, the learning establishments in the Vandal capital were praised – ‘Carthage is adorned with learning. Carthage is embellished with teachers’ (line 32). In a completely different context, Fulgentius of Ruspe praised Thrasamund’s education, and by arguing that the Barbarians ‘claim ignorance as their birthright’,78 he clearly marked the Vandals and their kings as the odd ones out. Whether these words of approval and appreciation refer to King Thrasamund’s patronage of cultural activity, is impossible to ascertain. Unlike Theoderic the Great, there is no evidence to associate Thrasamund directly with the patronage of culture. However, some

76 Vota, literally ‘vows’, that is, the vows given by the ruler on his accession and later renewed in the official celebrations commemorating his accession. On these celebrations, see A.A. Boyce, Festal and Dated Coins of the Roman Empire, Numismatic Notes and Monographs 153 (New York, 1965), pp. 40–90. 77 H. Wolfram, Intitulatio, I – Lateinische Königs- und Fürstentitel bis zum Ende des 8. Jahrhunderts, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, suppl. 21 (Vienna and Cologne, 1967), pp. 76–89; McCormick, Eternal Victory, pp. 261–6. 78 Fulgentius of Ruspe, Ad Trasamundum regem libri III, I.ii.2, ed. J. Fraipont, CCSL 91 (Turnhout, 1968), pp. 95–185, at p. 99. I shall discuss Fulgentius and his writings more fully later in this chapter.

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unrelated pieces of evidence suggest that Thrasamund had more than a superficial interest in the scholars of his time. In some cases he was deeply engaged in scholarly discussion with authors and clergymen, and several works were dedicated to him. Hence, even if we cannot identify any work that had been commissioned by the Vandal king, it appears that Thrasamund had created a favourable atmosphere for scholars, poets and artists to live and work in. His court, so it seems, became a lively cultural centre, to which poets flocked and where theological debates took place.79 Notwithstanding the fact that no direct act of patronage is attested in our sources, it appears that in at least three cases much impetus was given by Thrasamund and his court. These cases are associated with several poets of the Anthologia Latina, the poet Dracontius and Bishop Fulgentius of Ruspe. Let us examine these three acts of ‘circumstantial’ patronage more fully.

The Anthologia Latina The so-called Anthologia Latina is a collection of poems and epigrams assembled in Vandal North Africa shortly before the Byzantine conquest of 533.80 It contains short poems by classical Latin authors, such as Ovid, Virgil and Martial, as well as a plethora of verses by anonymous and lessknown poets, many of which are not to be found elsewhere. Hence, the Anthologia Latina offers an enormous variation of interest and literary quality. The core of this collection is preserved primarily in an eighthcentury Frankish manuscript (Paris, BnF lat. 10318), commonly known as the Codex Salmasianus, after its seventeenth-century owner, the philologist Claude de Saumaise (d. 1653).81 The title Anthologia Latina is, of 79 Even Bright was willing to admit that Thrasamund had showed some interest in the cultural activity of his kingdom; see Bright, The Miniature Epic, p. 219. 80 Unfortunately, there is still no comprehensive discussion of the collection of poems and epigrams known as the Anthologia Latina. For a general introduction, see Rosenblum, Luxorius, esp. pp. 25–35; D.R. Shackleton-Bailey, Towards a Text of the ‘Anthologia Latina’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society, suppl. 5 (Cambridge, 1979); Clover, ‘Carthage and the Vandals’, pp. 5–6; A. Cameron, ‘Byzantine Africa – the literary evidence’, in Excavations at Carthage, VII, ed. Humphrey, pp. 29–62, at pp. 30–31; N.M. Kay, Epigrams from the Anthologia Latina. Text, Translation and Commentary (London, 2006), pp. 1–25. 81 On the transmission of the Anthologia Latina, see Texts and Transmission. A Survey of the Latin Classics, ed. L.D. Reynolds (Oxford, 1983), pp. 9–13. On Paris, BnF lat. 10318, see CLA V.593; L. Traube, ‘Zur lateinischen

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course, modern, and it was given to this collection of poems by its first editor, Peter Burmann, in 1759.82 Where and when exactly the Anthologia Latina was compiled is still a mystery. We know nothing of the circumstances that led to its compilation, nor can we provide any clear-cut evidence that can solve the riddle. It was usually assumed that the entire collection was put together in North Africa, since a large portion of the Anthologia (more than a hundred poems) was composed by African poets who wrote under Vandal rule.83 It was also assumed that no anthology containing poems in praise of Vandal kings could have been compiled after the Byzantine reconquest, and hence the anthology’s compilation was usually dated to 523–533, that is, somewhere in between the accession of Hilderic, the last Vandal king mentioned in the Anthologia,84 and the fall of the Vandal kingdom. However, all these assumptions are pure surmises. It may well be that the Anthologia Latina was compiled under Vandal royal sponsorship before the Byzantine reconquest. But, as suggested by Averil Cameron, it could also be that the impetus for collecting the poems into an anthology was experienced under Byzantine rule.85 We cannot even be sure that we are dealing with a collection that was made in one, rather than several stages. It is possible that the African core of the collection was put together separately, and only later was subsumed into the larger collection of the Codex Salmasianus. Alternatively, the bulk of the African material may have been collected earlier than assumed, sometime during the reign of Guthamund and Thrasamund, and the portion written by Luxorius, who flourished under King Hilderic, was added later. We simply do not know. But one thing is obvious. Whichever date and compilation-procedure one chose, the Anthologia Latina as we know it from the Codex Salmasianus is

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Anthologie: Über Gedichte des Codex Salmasianus’, in idem, Vorlesungen und Abhandlungen III (Munich, 1920), pp. 51–9; M. Spallone, ‘Il Par. Lat. 10318 (Salmasiano): Dal manoscritto alto-medievale ad una raccolta enciclopedica tardo-antica’, Italia medioevale e umanistica 25 (1982), pp. 1–71; B. Bischoff, ‘Manuscripts in the age of Charlemagne’, in idem, Manuscripts and Libraries in the Ages of Charlemagne, trans. M. Gorman (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 20–55, at pp. 44 and 51. See P. Burmann, Anthologia veterum latinorum epigrammatum et poematum sive catalecta poetarum latinorum in VI libros digesta (Amsterdam, 1759). On the Vandal portion of the Anthologia Latina, see Clover, ‘Carthage and the Vandals’, pp. 20–22. See also K. Vössing, ‘Die anthologia Salmasiana, das vandalische Karthago und die Grenzen der Stilanalyse’, in Der Stilbegriff in den Altertumswissenschaften, ed. K. Zimmermann (Rostock, 1993), pp. 149–55. See Anthologia Latina, no. 194, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 145. Cameron, ‘Byzantine Africa – the literary evidence’, p. 30.

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the zenith of an intellectual effort that started before Hilderic’s reign. The intellectual revival under Thrasamund, so it seems, gives a proper context to the origins of the Anthologia Latina. Thrasamund’s presence in the Anthologia Latina is most prominent. We have already seen the poem dedicated to him by Florentinus, who pays homage to the king and his munificence. But Florentinus was not the only one to do so. The poet Felix composed a series of five poems applauding the baths that Thrasamund had constructed at Alianae, the king’s favourite resort on the seashore, not far from Carthage.86 These poems – three in elegiac couplets and two in hexameter – have twelve lines each and their length, so it seems, was dictated by the Latin version of Thrasamund’s name – Thrasamundus, which appears as an acrostic in one of the poems, together with the mesostic cunta [sic!]innovat, and the telestic vota serenans.87 As suggested by Edward Courtney, these poems were, most probably, all intended to be inscribed on the walls of the building, and were designed to fit on matching masonry surfaces similar in size.88 It may well be that the letters of the acrostic, mesostic and telestic, which together reads: ‘Rendering peace Thradamund renews all

86 Anthologia Latina, nos 201–5, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, pp. 150–3. On these poems, see M. Chalon, G. Devallet, P. Force, M. Griffe, J.-M. Lassère, and J.N. Michaud, ‘Memorabilia factum: Une célébration de l’évergétisme des rois vandales dans l’Anthologie Latine’, Antiquités africaines 21 (1985), pp. 207– 62, at pp. 226–41. On Carthage’s north shore, where the baths were located, see Clover, ‘Carthage and the Vandals’, pp. 7–8 and 13–17. 87 Anthologia Latina, no. 205, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 153: Tranquillo, nymfae, deCurrite fluminis ortV. Hic nova flagranti sVccedite lumina FoebO Rupibus excelsis ubi Nunc fastigia surgunT Aequanturque polo toTis praecelsa lavacrA Sedibus, his magnis exArdent Marmora signiS, Ardua sublimes praevIncunt culmina termaE, Muneraque eximius taNti dat liminis auctoR Vnica continuae praeNoscens praemia famaE. Noon hic flamma nocet. vOtum dinoscite carmeN, Discite vel quanto viVat sun gurgite lymfA. Vandalicum hic renovAt claro de semine nomeN, Sub cuius titulo meriTis stat gratia factiS. Acrostic is the word (or words) formed by the first letter of each line; mesostic is the word formed by the medial letter of each line; and telestic is the word formed by the last letter of each line. 88 E. Courtney, ‘Observations of the Latin Anthology’, Hermathena 129 (1980), pp. 37–50, at p. 40.

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vota’,89 were also painted in red, as if to make Thrasamund’s presence even more prominent. Thrasamund, however, was not the first Vandal king to be praised in the Anthologia Latina; nor was he the last. A certain Cato dedicated a short poem to King Huneric,90 and two poems, one by Luxorius and one anonymous, were dedicated to King Hilderic.91 All these panegyriclike poems imply that poets were welcomed by the Vandal kings. But poets in Vandal North Africa were also sponsored and appreciated by the Vandal aristocracy, who played an active role in the revival of Latin poetry in their kingdom. Whereas the names and titles of several African poets who wrote under Vandal rule suggest, as pointed out by Frank Clover, that they belonged to the Roman municipal aristocracy,92 the names of many dedicatees have a distinctive German tint. For example, an anonymous poem was dedicated to a man called Abcar, who was a servus regius,93 and another poem mentions a certain Fridus.94 Luxorius dedicated two poems to the wealthy Vandal aristocrat Fridamal,95 and to Blumarit, another Vandal aristocrat, he dedicated a poem praising the lavish banquets held in his mansion.96 The gardens of the nobleman Oageis were praised by Luxorius in two poems,97 and the death of his little daughter, Damira, was commemorated in an emotional epitaph.98 Finally, a nobleman names Fridus, to give just one more example, commissioned Luxorius to write an epithalamium in the form of a cento for his marriage.99 This and other centones in the Anthologia Latina reflect, 89 On the meaning of vota, see above p. 77, with note 76. 90 Anthologia Latina, no. 382, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 295. 91 Anthologia Latina, nos 194 and 206, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, pp. 145 and 154 respectively. Whereas in the former Hilderic’s name is mention explicitly (line 1), the latter was addressed to a certain vandalaricus (line 1) the grandson of Valentinian III (line 8), that is, King Hilderic. 92 Clover, ‘Carthage and the Vandals’, p. 6. 93 Anthologia Latina, no. 200, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 149. 94 Anthologia Latina, no. 70, line 6, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 67. 95 Anthologia Latina, nos 299 and 300, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, pp. 246–7. On Fridamal’s name, see Rosenblum, Luxorius, p. 189. 96 Anthologia Latina, no. 326, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, pp. 261–2. On Blumarit’s name, see Rosenblum, Luxorius, p. 2. 97 Anthologia Latina, nos 327 and 364, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, pp. 262–3 and 283 respectively. On Oageis and his name, see Rosenblum, Luxorius, p. 222; Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, p. 399. 98 Anthologia Latina, no. 340, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, pp. 269–70. 99 Anthologia Latina sive poesis latinae supplementum, no. 18, ed. A. Riese, 2 vols in 3, 2nd edn, Teubner (Leipzig, 1894–1926), I.1, pp. 79–82. This poem was not edited by Shackleton-Bailey. A cento is basically a patchwork of verses put together from the works of other poets, in the case of Fridus’

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more than anything else, the literary taste and classical predilection of the Vandal aristocracy in late fifth- and early sixth-century Africa.100 As already noted by Pierre Riché, the Vandal nobility had long been won over to Roman civilisation, and consequently was sensitive to the Latin poems addressed to them.101 A short poem in the Anthologia Latina confirms that at least some Vandal aristocrats were well aware of their unique liking of Latin poetry. This poem, the only one in the Anthologia Latina that contains a whole sentence in the Gothic language, reads: Inter ‘eils’ Gothicum ‘scapia matzia ia drincan’ Non audet quisquam dignos edicere versus. (‘Among the Gothic “to your health and orders to eat and drink”, no one ventures to write decent poetry’).102 Although it echoes Sidonius’s grumble that one cannot write six-foot verses among seven-foot Barbarians,103 this poem, I would submit, has a completely different subtext. Rather than expressing the poet’s discontent, it reflects the Vandals’ self-awareness, applauds (in a subtle way) their love of poetry, and sets them apart from the Goths. Of all the African poets in the Anthologia Latina, Luxorius, vir clarissimus et spectabilis, is undoubtedly the most notable.104 Ninety-one poems attributed to him were included in the Anthologia Latina, and eighty-nine of them were grouped together in the Codex Salmasianus under the title Liber epigrammaton (‘Book of Epigrams’).105 His poetic career, it appears, stretched over the reign of three Vandal

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epithalamium from Virgil’s Aeneas and Georgica. On Luxorius’ cento to Fridus, see Rosenblum, Luxorius, pp. 251–4. The other centones are Anthologia Latina, nos 7–17, ed. Riese, pp. 33–79. These poems were not edited by Schakleton-Bailey. Riché, Education and Culture, p. 64. Anthologia Latina, no. 279, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 201. I cite the English translation from Rosenblum, Luxorius, p. 26. See Sidonius Apollinaris, Poems and Letters, Carmen 12, ed. and trans. Anderson, I, pp. 212–13. Vir clarissimus et spectabilis (‘an illustrious and respectable man’) is Luxorius’ title in the Anthologia Latina; see Anthologia Latina, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 235. Anthologia Latina, no. 282–370, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, pp. 235–86. The other two poems are Anthologia Latina, no. 194, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 145, and Anthologia Latina, no. 18, ed. Riese, I.1, p. 79–82.

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kings, Thrasamund, Hilderic and Geilimer,106 and although he was not alone, he was certainly one of the most prolific Latin poets in Vandal North Africa. He continued a well-established tradition of epigram writing, and his poems exhibit an admirable acquaintance with the poetry of Virgil, Martial, Juvenal, Claudian, Statius and Ausonius. His style is rather conservative, but with ample use of rhetorical devices. His prosody is also impressive, ranging from the common elegiac couplets and hexameters, to the less common anapaestic, glyconic or iambelegiac meters.107 Moreover, Luxorius covers a huge variety of topics in his poetry, from mythological themes, through praises of kings and aristocrats, to mundane love and sexual perversion. All these clearly mark Luxorius’ poetry as one of the greatest testaments to the cultural vitality and creativity of Vandal North Africa. Some scholars who examined Luxorius and the Anthologia Latina with a classical yardstick came up with the conclusion that this poetic corpus ‘contains a vast rambling array of material, much of it appallingly bad’, and that it is ‘a fair measure of the taste and aspirations of the Latinspeaking literate (hardly literary) community of the era’.108 But, since we have already noted the inadequacy of such a prism, these and similar remarks merit no further comment. The Anthologia Latina is an admirable product of the cultural revival under Vandal rule, and much of it was made possible through the generous patronage of the Vandal kings and their aristocratic entourage. Apparently, soon after Belisarius and his forces invaded Carthage and put an abrupt end to Vandal domination, the writing of Latin poetry in North Africa simply died out.109

Dracontius Blossius Aemilius Dracontius is, perhaps, the most eloquent witness to the cultural activity in late fifth- and early sixth-century North Africa. Very little that is certain is known about Dracontius and his career, and everything that we know derives from various bits and pieces of

106 On Luxorius, see Rosenblum, Luxorius, esp. pp. 36–48; H. Happ, Luxurius. Teste, Untersuchungen, Kommentar, 2 vols (Stuttgart, 1986), I, pp. 83–91. 107 On Luxorius’ poetry and use of uncommon meters, see Rosenblum, Luxorius, pp. 52–96; Happ, Luxurius, I, pp. 92–280. 108 Bright, The Miniature Epic, p. 12. 109 Cameron, ‘Byzantine Africa – the literary evidence’, p. 41.

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autobiographical information that Dracontius had incorporated into his own work.110 We assume that he was born in Carthage to a wealthy senatorial family, although it has been suggested in the past that his mother was of Vandal origins.111 Dracontius himself tells us that he studied in Carthage under the grammarian Felicianus,112 and his poems demonstrate a thorough knowledge of Latin literature and some knowledge of Greek poetry. He formed his poems, most of which deal with mythological themes, on classical models in a way that even modern classicists applaud his talent and style.113 We also know that he was a prominent lawyer in Carthage,114 and a Catholic Christian.115 Like other Latin poets in Vandal North Africa, Dracontius was closely associated with the Vandal court. However, unlike other poets, his relationship with the Vandal rulers was a passionate dance, with dramatic oscillations. Sometime between 484 and 496 Dracontius was imprisoned by the Vandal King Gunthamund. He believed that the reason for his arrest was a poem he had composed in honour of a certain dominus ignotus (‘a longforgotten master’).116 In his so-called Satisfactio to king Guthamund, which he composed while in prison, he clearly states that:

110 For a comprehensive bibliography on Dracontius and his work, see L. Castagna, Studi Draconziani (1912–1996) (Naples, 1997). See also Simonetti, ‘Letteratura cristiana d’Africa’, pp. 49–53, with a bibliography at p. 55. 111 See above, p. 72. 112 Dracontius, Romulea, I lines 12–16, ed. and trans. Bouquet and Wolff, I, p. 134. 113 See for example, Bright, The Miniature Epic, passim; F.J.E. Raby, A History of Christian–Latin Poetry from the Beginnings to the Close of the Middle Ages, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1953), pp. 97–9; A. Dihle, Greek and Latin Literature of the Roman Empire from Augustus to Justinian, trans. M. Malzahn (London and New York, 1994), pp. 504–6. See also M.J. Edwards, ‘Dracontius the African and the fate of Rome’, Latomus 63 (2004), pp. 151–60. 114 See Dracontius, Romulea, V, esp. lines 260–329, ed. and trans. Bouquet and Wolff, I, pp. 157–60. 115 See Dracontius, De laudibus Dei, in Dracontius, Louanges de dieu, Réparation, ed. and trans. C. Moussy and C. Camus, 2 vols (Paris, 1985–8). 116 Dracontius, Satisfactio, line 94, ed. Moussey, in Dracontius, Louanges de dieu, Réparation, ed. and trans. Moussy and Camus, II, p. 181. The word ignotus was usually translated as ‘unknown’, but as Merrills suggested it is better translateed as ‘long-forgotten’; see A. Merrills, ‘The perils of panegyric: the lost poem of Dracontius and its consequences’, in Vandals, Romans and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 145–62.

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Mine was the blunder, being silent about forbearing lords, to celebrate one, though sovereign, long-forgotten to me; such a fault as attends those ungrateful men who although they know their Lord, with unholy hearts worship vain idols.117 This dominus ignotus was usually identified with a foreign ruler, and whereas some scholars suggested Odoacer or Theoderic, other opted for the Byzantine emperors Zeno (474–91) or Ansatasius. However, as suggested recently and very convincingly, Dracontius’ dominus ignotus was, most probably, King Huneric, Guthamund’s predecessor.118 If this assertion is correct, and I believe it is, then Dracontius’ career as a ‘court poet’ had already started under King Huneric, the most notorious persecutor of Catholic Christians.119 The fact that Dracontius, a Catholic in his belief, sung the praise of the Arian ruler at the very same time other Catholics were savagely murdered at his command, significant as it may be, should not surprise us. Victor of Vita, while rebuking his fellow-Christians, clearly suggests that Dracontius was not the only one to do so: Those of you who love barbarians and sometimes praise them, in a way worthy of condemnation, give thought to their name and understand their ways. Surely there is no name by which they could be appropriately called other than ‘barbarian’, a fitting word connoting savageness, cruelty and terror? However many may be the gifts with which you befriend them, and however many the acts of compliance with which you placate them, they can think of nothing other than looking on Romans with envy   ’.120 Huneric, it appears, was fond of Latin poetry like many of his successors, and there were enough African-Roman poets who were willing to deliver the goods. Cato, who dedicated a poem to the king’s ingenious waterdrill,121 was one of them; Dracontius was another.

117 Dracontius, Satisfactio, lines 93–6, ed. and trans. Moussy and Camus, II, p. 181. I cite (with minor changes and alterations) the English translation of M. St Margaret, Dracontii Satisfactio with Introduction, Text, Translation and Commentary (Philadelphia, 1936), pp. 33–5. 118 See Merrills, ‘The perils of panegyric’, pp. 152–62. 119 On Huneric, see Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, pp. 262–5. 120 Victor of Vita, Historia persecutionis, III.62, ed. and trans. Lancel, pp. 207–8 [trans. Moorhead, Victor of Vita, p. 89]. 121 Anthologia Latina, no. 382, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 295.

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Dracontius’ lost poem to King Huneric was a mistake Gunthamund could not ignore. Around 481 Huneric launched a purge among his relatives to secure the succession of his son, Hilderic. Many members of the royal Hasding family lost their lives in these events, but two of Huneric’s nephews – Guthamund and Thrasamund – survived, and since they were older than the young Hilderic, they were to inherit the Vandal throne according to the Vandal custom instituted by Geiseric. Gunthamund, who succeeded Huneric in 484, did not forget his uncle’s attempts to disinherit him, and hence Dracontius, Huneric’s panegyrist, was imprisoned and his property confiscated. In the Satisfactio to Guthamund, Dracontius humbly repents his crime and implores forgiveness, both from God and from the king: To you now, princeps, as humble petitioner I turn back my sails; with mind and heart I solicit, with voice and hand I sue: lend assistance to an unhappy man, grant pardon to him as he prays; wrath of so long duration befitted not a god-fearing man.122 He also pleads with the king to spare his family. ‘If I am the one who has done the wrong’, he writes, ‘what is the offence, pray, of my kin – that cold and starvation in their need vex them as well?’123 And he ends with an emotional appeal to the king: I shall address to my lord the king, the affectionate words of the prophets, ‘Although I have sinned, I am nevertheless yours’. Pardon, pity I entreat; help me imploring; let the lashes, chains, hunger of bygone days be enough. If as he journeys, the horny hoof of his galloping steed should cause the rider to lurch, the fault’s set right by a stroke of the punishing whip, his feet and legs are not cut too.124 These are the words of a broken man, who realised his mistake and hence initiated an heroic attempt to win back the king’s favour. Dracontius carefully constructed the Satisfactio and inlaid it with many panegyriclike passages that were intended to flatter Gunthamund and appeal to his 122 Dracontius, Satisfactio, lines 117–20, ed. and trans. Moussy and Camus, II, p. 182 [trans. St. Margaret, p. 35]. 123 Dracontius, Satisfactio, lines 283–4, ed. and trans. Moussy and Camus, II, p. 189 [trans. St. Margaret, p. 45]. 124 Dracontius, Satisfactio, lines 309–16, ed. and trans. Moussy and Camus, II, pp. 190–191 [trans. St. Margaret, pp. 45–7]. Dracontius’ citation from the Prophets is inaccurate, and probably refers to Sap. 15.2.

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clemency. Similarly, Dracontius’ more ambitious poem, the 2327 hexameters commonly known as De laudibus Dei (‘On the praises of God’), was also composed in jail, and although it focuses on Catholic Christian doctrine, it includes a long confessionl section that was obviously intended for the ears of the Vandal king.125 But Gunthamund was not impressed. Dracontius’ desperate plea for pardon remained unanswered, until a new king – Thrasamund – sat on the Vandal throne. One could trust Thrasamund to spot a brilliant poet when he saw one. We do not really know when and under what circumstances Dracontius was released and some of his possession restored to him. An epithalamium which Dracontius dedicated to Victorianus and Rufinianus implies that their father, Victor, had something to do with it.126 In any case, old habits never die, and soon after his release Dracontius composed a versed panegyric in honour of King Thrasamund,127 and it may well be that he also dedicated to him a short poem on the months.128 Once again Thrasamund appears as the magnanimous and discerning patron of poets and scholars. Whether Catholic or Arian, religious or profane, as long as a poet was talented and willing to act as a royal panegyrist, Thrasamund was there to offer his patronage.

The peculiar case of Fulgentius of Ruspe Fabius Claudius Gordianus Fulgentius, commonly known as Fulgentius of Ruspe, is the last scholar from Vandal Africa to concern us here. Born to a pagan senatorial family in Carthage around 468, Fulgentius received a rigorous classical education, first at home, and then at the school

125 See Dracontius, De laudibus Dei, III, lines 567–719, ed. and trans. Moussy and Camus, II, pp. 44–52. 126 Dracontius, Romulea, VI, ed. and trans. Bouquet and Wolff, II, pp. 1–5, esp. lines 36–40, p. 2. 127 This verse panegyric did not survive. A manuscript containing this panegyric was last seen in Milan in the middle of the sixteenth century; see B. Corico, L’historia di Milano (Venice, 1554), p. 13. See also E. Baehrens, ‘Neue Verse des Dracontius’, Rheinisches Museum fur ˙ Philologie 33 (1878), pp. 313–16; and the notes by F. Vollmer in MGH AA 15 (Berlin, 1905), pp. vi (with note 3) and 128 (frag. 3). 128 Anthologia Latina, no. 874a, ed. Riese, I.2, pp. 323–4. This poem was wrongly assumed to be addressed to Thrasamund, count of Capua. On this poem, see A. Riese, ‘Zu Dracontius’, Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 32 (1877), pp. 319–20; E. Baehrens, ‘Neue Verse des Dracontius’, Rheinisches Museum für Philologie 33 (1878), pp. 313–16.

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in Theleptus.129 He converted to Christianity at the age of 25, during the reign of Gunthamund, who was known for his tolerance towards Catholics. Shortly afterwards, Fulgentius adopted a monastic life style, and even founded three monasteries in the North-African province of Byzancena. In 499 he left his monastery for life in the desert as a hermit, and subsequently travelled to visit some friends in Sicily and Italy. He returned to North Africa around 500, and was warmly greeted by his fellow-monks and other noblemen. Many cities wanted him as a bishop, but a royal decree banning episcopal consecrations forced Fulgentius to abandon his aspirations for an episcopal see. This law was breached by the bishops of Byzancena with a series of consecrations, after which the newly consecrated bishops were arrested at the order of Thrasamund. Only then, after seeing his fellow-Christian bishops being arrested by the Vandal authorities, was Fulgentius willing to risk a consecration. He was consecrated as bishop of Ruspe in 508, and shortly afterwards he was exiled with other Catholic bishops to Sardinia. This exile ended with Thrasamund’s death in 523. Only then was Fulgentius allowed to return to his see, where he died ten years later. Fulgentius is best known as a ferocious controversialist. His theological tracts against Arianism and Pelagianism, although of little originality, won him a prominent place among the fathers of the African Church.130 However, as far as our investigation is concerned, Fulgentius’ case unveils another dimension of Thrasamund’s cultural patronage. In 517 King Thrasamund summoned Fulgentius from his exile in Sardinia to take part in a theological debate at the royal court in Carthage. At

129 The starting point on Fulgentius and his life is G.-G. Lapeyre, Saint Fulgence de Ruspe: Un évêque catholique africain sous la domination vandale (Paris, 1929). See also H.-J. Diesner, Fulgentius von Ruspe als Theologe und Kirchenpolitiker (Stuttgart, 1966); S.T. Stevens, ‘The circle of Bishop Fulgentius’, Traditio 38 (1982), pp. 327–41; PCBE I, pp. 507–13; Simonetti, ‘Letteratura cristiana d’Africa’, pp. 26–30, and see there for further bibliography. However, the chronology of Fulgentius’ life and career has been thoroughly revised by Y. Modéran, ‘La chronologie de la vie de saint Fulgence de Ruspe et ses incidences sur l’histoire de l’Afrique vandale’, Mélanges de l’école française de Rome, Antiquité 105 (1993), pp. 135–88. I follow Modéran’s chronology throughout. On the fact that Fulgentius of Ruspe and Fabius Planciades Fulengtius, commonly known as Fulgentius the Mythographer, were not the same person, see G. Hays, ‘The date and identity of the Mythographer Fulgentius’, Journal of Medieval Latin 13 (2003), pp. 163–252. 130 All these were published by J. Fraipont, CCSL 91 and 91A (Turnhout, 1968–87).

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first, Thrasamund presented Fulgentius with a series of theological questions, to which the returning exile had to give an answer. Ferrandus, Fulgentius’ biographer, provides us with the details: He [i.e. Thrasamund] sent him [i.e. Fulgentius] a book to be read right away, one full of poison of infidelity, and demanded a rapid response. The most learned pontiff accepted the challenge, dividing up the collected fallacies of this very long statement into chapters, and adding his responses, which were brief, probative, of ineluctable logic, weighty with the authority of the witnesses invoked and bright with the logic of reason. Having discussed his answers in detail and at length with a number of wise men and having brought his work to the attention of the faithful, he then sent it to the king, who had been waiting impatiently for some time. The barbarous king read them over carefully, but, because he was never predestined for salvation, though he praised the wisdom, marvelled at the eloquence, extolled the humility, still he did not deserve to recognise the truth.131 Fulgentius composed this short treatise in response to Thrasamund’s queries, commonly known as the Dicta regis Trasamundi et contra ea responsionum,132 which are extremely revealing. From his questions Thrasamund emerges as a sharp and perceptive observer, well read in the Christian doctrine of his Catholic subjects. On the other hand, Fulgentius’ eloquence and erudition seem to have been much less impressive than Ferrandus would like us to believe. The second round of this debate also took the form of question-andanswer format, as Ferrandus relates: But the king desired to put the most learned man to the test once again and asked him questions about still other matters. He ordered that his questions be read to the blessed Fulgentius only once, allowing him no time to think about them or to write them down. For he was afraid that Fulgentius would put the king’s words into his own responses as his arguments were refuted and that, in the eye of the entire city, he would be ridiculed again as having been 131 Ferrandus, Vita sancti Fulgentii episcopi Ruspensis, 21, ed. and trans. G.-G. Lapeyre (Paris, 1929), pp. 103–4. I cite the English translation of R. Eno, Fulgentius: Selected Works, Fathers of the Church 95 (Washington DC, 1997), pp. 40–41. 132 Fulgentius of Ruspe, Dicta regis Trasamundi et contra ea responsionum liber unus, ed. Fraipont, CCSL 91, pp. 67–94.

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bested. The blessed Fulgentius, having difficulty recalling what has been read to him but once, put off his response. But the king became ever more insistent, asserting that the delay and the caution of the holy man indicated fear on his part. Because of this, the same pontiff, relying on the virtue of discretion, lest perchance lies be spread about through the populace to the effect that the blessed Fulgentius was not able to or was not willing to counter the king’s questions, wrote three marvellous little books. In these booklets, he addressed the above-mentioned king in all simplicity. He discussed all sides of the questions he had barely heard posed in passing. He taught that in the Incarnation, Christ the Lord had not been without a rational soul. Thereafter, the king, filled with great admiration, no longer dared to ask him anything.133 Although the three books Fulgentius addressed to King Thrasamund focus on the various features of Catholic orthodoxy,134 the initiative for their composition, one must constantly bear in mind, originated from the royal court of an Arian Vandal king. Fulgentius remained in Carthage for two years before returning to his exile in Sardinia. During these years he composed two more theological pieces: one against the Arian Bishop Pinta,135 and the other, a short admonition on the Holy Ghost for the priest Abragil, which was copied in between the two tracts he composed for Thrasamund.136 Moreover, it is highly probable that during his two-year sojourn at Carthage he also composed a treatise on the Trinity, addressed to Felix,137 and the so-called Abecedarium, also known as Psalmus contra Wandalos Arrianos (‘A psalm against the Arrian Vandals’).138

133 Ferrandus, Vita sancti Fulgentii episcopi Ruspensis, 21, ed. and trans. Lapeyre, pp. 105–6 [trans. Eno, Fulgentius, p. 41]. 134 Fulgentius of Ruspe, Ad Thrasamundum, ed. Fraipont, pp. 97–185. 135 Ferrandus, Vita sancti Fulgentii episcopi Ruspensis, 21, ed. and trans. Lapeyre, p. 105 [trans. Eno, Fulgentius, p. 41]. This treatise did not survive. 136 Ferrandus, Vita sancti Fulgentii episcopi Ruspensis, 21, ed. and trans. Lapeyre, p. 105 [trans. Eno, Fulgentius, p. 42]. Only two fragments from this treatise survive, see Fraipont, CCSL 91A, p. 869. 137 Fulgentius of Ruspe, De Trinitate ad Felicem, ed. Fraipont, CCSL 91A, pp. 633–46 138 Fulgentius of Ruspe, Abecedarium, ed. Fraipont, CCSL 91A, pp. 875–85. See also Fulgenzio di Ruspe, Salmi contro I Vandali ariani, ed. and trans. A. Isola (Torino, 1983).

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Ferrandus had no doubt that summoning Fulgentius to Carthage was part of a more elaborate scheme set up by Thrasamund, a zealous Arian, to trick the Catholics and prove them wrong. He bluntly states that: Between harsh persecutions there were deceptive measures trying, sometimes by terror, at other times by promises, to force Catholics to deny that Christ was equal to God the Father. With the intention of deceiving, he [i.e. Thrasamund] began to simulate the desire to find out more about the Catholic religion, thinking that no one could be found whose arguments could convict him of error. He proposed the trap of foolish questions to many. If any were found willing to respond, he neither disdained nor refused them. He listened as if patiently but boasted that none satisfied him. And, indeed, who was able to shine the light of truth on one so hardened in heart? The daring steadfastness of their faith enabled a number of religious men on these occasions, prepared by the Lord, to refute the blasphemies of this king who was interested in learning.139 However, Ferrandus’ words should not be taken at face value. Brushing aside his anti-Arian rhetoric and hagiographical aspirations, the king he describes was a most erudite ruler, ‘who was interested in learning’, and who showed a real fascination with Christian theology. Thrasamund’s court, it seems, was a dynamic intellectual centre, where diverse writers and scholars could gather and debate their ideas, and where Catholic polemicists were more than welcome. Religious issues, he believed, were a matter for debate, not for discrimination and intolerance. We have already noted that Thrasamund had no problem in offering his support to Dracontius, who wrote a genuine Catholic poem as De laudibus Dei, in which he even describes Arius as insipiens (‘foolish’).140 He also recalled Fulgentius, who was esteemed by his African contemporaries as one of the most eloquent Catholic apologists of his time, and urged him to express his views on the Christian doctrine in writing. His so-called anti-Catholic policy, which Ferrandus describes with much fervour and spite, was, in fact, motivated by

139 Ferrandus, Vita sancti Fulgentii episcopi Ruspensis, 20, ed. and trans. Lapeyre, p. 99 [trans. Eno, p. 39]. 140 Dracontius, De laudibus Dei, II.100, ed. and trans. Moussy and Camus, I, p. 201.

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internal politics and was directed almost exclusively at the African Catholic episcopacy.141 It was not the persecution of Catholics per se.

Roman Vandals The Age of Thrasamund was an outstanding period of cultural activity in the Vandal kingdom. Notwithstanding the fact that no literary work, as far as we can tell, was directly commissioned by Thrasamund himself or by one of his courtiers, there is little doubt that the Vandal king and his court took an active role in promoting and patronising culture, both profane and religious, in late fifth- and early sixth-century North Africa. Thanks to the writings of poets and scholars, such as Florentinus, Felix, Dracontius, or even Fulgentius, all of whom were associated, in one way or another, with the Vandal royal court, Thrasamund himself is now known to historians as one of the most cultivated Barbarian rulers. Although the Vandals under Thrasamund witnessed their first catastrophic defeat at the hands of the Berbers,142 and although Ferrandus went out of his way to convince that he renewed the anti-Catholic policy cancelled by his predecessor Gunthamund,143 nothing was detracted from his glorious image. After all the defeat against the Berbers did not change significantly the strong position of the Vandals in North Africa, and Thrasamund’s anti-Catholic policy did not result in a bloody persecution of Catholics. The literary monuments dedicated to him still sing his praises loud and clear. No wonder that the French historian Christian Courtois regarded Thrasamund as ‘sans dout le plus sympathique des rois vandales’.144 Whether Thrasamund’s cultural enthusiasm was a mere continuation of Vandal traditions, or a conscious attempt to imitate other rulers of his time, is still an open question. It may well have been both. We know nothing about the Vandal tradition of cultural patronage before Thrasamund, apart from the fact that a certain Cato dedicated a short poem to King Huneric.145 Although Huneric was married to Eudocia, Emperor Valentinian III’s daughter,146 there is no indication

141 See the most pertinent discussion by Modéran, ‘La chronologie de la vie de saint Fulgence’, pp. 162–88. 142 See Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.viii.15–29 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.viii.15–29, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp. 76–83. 143 See Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, pp. 301–10. 144 Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, p. 267. 145 Anthologia Latina, no. 382, ed. Shackleton-Bailey, p. 295. 146 Courtois, Les Vandales et l’Afrique, pp. 396–7.

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that any cultural relations were formed between the two courts. On the other hand, we know that Thrasamund had close connection with the Ostrogothic court in Ravenna. He was married to Theoderic’s sister, and as Procopius relates ‘Theoderic sent him not only his sister but also a thousand of the notable Goths as a bodyguard, who were followed by a host of attendants amounting to about five thousand fighting men’.147 If this entourage included some men of letters, and it is reasonable to assume it did, then they could have ignited the King’s intellectual interest, or at least fueled it. But, it may have been the enduring Roman tradition that explains the king’s intellectual enthusiasms. As a postRoman ruler, who made a great effort to cast himself in a Roman way, it is not improbable that Thrasamund adopted the imperial tradition of cultural patronage. Whichever route got him there, the end result is undeniable. The Vandals, who gave their name to the notion of ‘vandalism’, cultivated much ‘high’ culture in their kingdom.

147 Procopius, De Bello Vandalico I.viii.11–12 = Procopius, History of the Wars, III.viii.11–12, ed. and trans. Dewing, II, pp. 76–7.

4 Before and After: The Frankish Court of Chlothar II and Dagobert I

Brunhild was brought before Chlothar, who was boiling with fury against her. He charged her with the deaths of ten Frankish kings – namely, Sigibert, Merovech, his father Chilperic, Theudebert and his son Chlothar, Chlothar’s son the other Merovech, Theuderic and Theuderic’s three sons who had just perished. She was tormented for three days with a diversity of tortures, and then on his orders was led through the ranks on a camel. Finally, she was tied by her hair, one arm and one leg to the tail of an unbroken horse, and she was cut to shreds by its hoofs at the pace it went.1 It is hard to believe, but this gruesome act of violence marked the beginning of a peaceful phase in Frankish history. It was only after Brunhild’s death in 613 that the Merovingian king Chlothar II (king of Neustria since 584; d. 629) succeeded in uniting the Merovingian territories under his rule.2 The bitter and sometimes bloody conflicts that divided the Frankish kingdom ever since Clovis’ death (in 511) were brought to an end, and a new era of relative peace and prosperity began.

1 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.42, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 35. I have slightly altered the orthography of the names. 2 For an excellent survey of Merovingian history, see I.N. Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, 450–751 (London and New York, 1994). See also J.M. WallaceHadrill, The Long-Haired Kings (London, 1962); P.J. Geary, Before France and Germany. The Creation and Transformation of the Merovingian World (New York and Oxford, 1988); E. Ewig, Die Merowinger und das Frankenreich, 2nd edn (Stuttgart, Berlin and Cologne, 1993); M. Hartmann, Aufbruch ins Mittelalter: Die Zeit der Merowinger (Darmstadt, 2003); R. Van Dam, ‘Merovingian Gaul and the Frankish conquest’, and P. Fouracre, ‘Francia in the seventh century’, in NCMH I, pp. 193–231 and 371–96 respectively. 94

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The politics of turmoil which characterised the sixth century led to the consolidation of three Frankish sub-kingdoms (Teilreiche, as the German call them) – Neustria, the western kingdom, whose royal centres were Paris and Soissons; Austrasia, the eastern kingdom, whose political centres were Rheims and Metz; and the south-eastern kingdom, which crystallised in the territories of the former kingdom of Burgundy.3 The local elite of each sub-kingdom developed its own political identity, which, in turn, fuelled the bitter hostility and conflicts between the

3 The starting point for any discussion of the Merovingian Teilreiche is E. Ewig, ‘Die fränkischen Teilungen und Teilreiche (511–613)’, Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur, Abhandlungen der Geistes- und sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse 9 (1952), pp. 651–715; idem, ‘Die fränkische Teilreiche im 7. Jahrhundert (613–714)’, Trierer Zeitschrift 22 (1953), pp. 85–144. Both papers were reprinted in E. Ewig, Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien. Gesammelte Aufzätze zur merowingischen Geschichte (1952–1973), ed. H. Atsma, 2 vols, Beihefte der Francia 3 (Darmstadt, 1976–1979), I, pp. 114–171 and 172–230 respectively.

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Merovingian rulers of Francia.4 Chlothar II, who must have realised the growing power of the local aristocracy, allowed each of the Merovingian Teilreiche to have its own court under its own major domus. In his edict of 18 October 614, Chlothar II acknowledged the importance and privileges of the various local elites,5 and in 622/3, probably in response to Austrasian demands, he appointed his son, Dagobert I, as king of Austrasia.6 This appointment clearly strengthened the interests of the Austrasian magnates, but it also tied them closer to the Merovingian king and his court. When in 629 Dagobert I (d. 639) succeded his father as king of the Franks,7 he did not make any attempt to change the new political system established by his father, but simply continued the policy of acknowledging local elites. Shortly after his succession he appointed his brother, Charibert II (d. 632), as king of Aquitaine,8 and three years later his son, Sigibert III (d. 656), as king of Austrasia.9 Dagobert I has traditionally been seen as the last effective Merovingian king, succeeded by a series of degenerate ‘do-nothing’ kings (rois fainéants). This view, which, in the past, has poisoned the minds of many historians, was created and disseminated by the successor dynasty, the Carolingians and their advisers, who, in an attempt to justify their 4 On the Merovingian aristocracy, see A. Bergengruen, Adel und Grundherrschaft im Merowingerreich (Wiesbaden, 1952); H. Grahn-Hoek, Die fränkische Oberschicht im 6. Jahrhundrt. Studien zur ihrer rechtlichen und politische Stellung (Sigmaringen, 1976); M. Weidemann, ‘Adelsfamilien im Chlotharreich. Verwandschaftliche Beziehungen der fränkischen Aristokratie im 1. Drittel des 7. Jahrhunderts’, Francia 15 (1987), pp. 829–51; G. Halsall, Settlement and Social Organisation: The Merovingian Region of Metz (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 33–9 and 45–53; P. Fouracre, ‘The origins of the nobility in Francia’, in Nobles and Nobility in Medieval Europe: Concepts, Origins, Transformations, ed. A.J. Duggan (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 17–24. 5 See Chlotharii II edictum, ed. Boretius, MGH Cap. I, no. 9, pp. 20–3. On this edict, see Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 142–3. 6 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.47, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 39; Liber historiae Francorum, c. 41,ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), pp. 311–12. On the dates of Dagobert’s reign, see M. Weidemann, ‘Zur chronologie der Merowinger in 7. und 8. Jahrhundert’, Francia 15 (1998), pp. 177–230, at pp. 178–82. 7 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.57, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 47–8. 8 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.57, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 47–8. See also Weidemann, ‘Zur chronologie der Merowinger’, pp. 182–3. 9 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.75, ed. and trans. WallaceHadrill, p. 63. See also Weidemann, ‘Zur chronologie der Merowinger’, pp. 194–6.

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rise to power, developed a remarkably effective machinery of political and religious persuasion.10 After the death of Dagobert I in 639 the Merovingian kingdom was indeed divided between his successors, Sigibert III and Clovis II (d. 657). But this in itself must not be taken as a sign of weakness, nor is it an indication of the deteriorating authority of the Merovingian king. Dagobert was certainly not the last effective Merovingian ruler of Francia.11 His immediate successors, who built on their father’s and grandfather’s accomplishments, were no less effective rulers, and as for the quality of their successors, the Carolingian bias of our sources must always be taken into account. The reigns of Chlothar II and Dagobert I was indeed a crucial period in the formation of late Merovingian polity.12 The new political arrangements created by Chlothar II and bolstered by Dagobert I allowed local elites to preserve and further develop their own identities, and acknowledged the increasing centrality of these elites in the political system. Yet, it also marked the Merovingian court as the unrivalled political centre, and it clearly set down the collaborative relationship between local aristocrats and their kings. Although co-operation was not always smooth, the political system, which was based on power-sharing and consensus, was rather cohesive and largely successful. Did it also affect the ways in which the Merovingian kings sponsored and encouraged cultural activity in their kingdoms? Let us examine the evidence.

Kings and culture in Merovingian Gaul As we have already seen, it was common for Barbarian kings in the post-Roman world to show some interest in cultural activity, and sometimes to actively sponsor it. Early Merovingian Francia was no different. Culture was cultivated in the courts of the Merovingian kings, and subsequently it was disseminated at the initiative of Frankish aristocrats through a conscientious process of imitation and emulation. There is plenty of evidence to demonstrate the early Merovingian interest in cultural activity. King Clovis, for example, asked the Ostrogothic king

10 On the Carolingian anti-Merovingian propaganda, see above pp. 11–13. 11 See Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, esp. pp. 155–8 and 221–38; Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, pp. 16–26; 12 See K.F. Werner, ‘La place du VIIe siècle dans l’évolution politique et institutionelle de la Gaule franque’, in The Seventh Century: Change and Continuity. Proceedings of a joint French and British Colloquium held at the Warburg Institute 8–9 July 1988, ed. J. Fontaine and J.N. Hillgarth (London, 1992), pp. 173–206.

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Theoderic the Great to send him a lyre player,13 whereas king Chilperic (d. 584), apart from writing two books of poetry, some hymns and masses,14 also added certain letters to the alphabet and ‘sent instructions to all the cities in his kingdom, saying that these letters should be taught to boys in school, and that books using the old characters should have them erased with pumice-stone and the new ones written in’.15 Yet, the most famous example of the cultural patronage practised by the early Merovingian court is to be found in the career of the poet Venantius Honorius Clementianus Fortunatus (d. c. 603). Having been cured from an eye infection through the agency of Saint Martin, Fortunatus decided to visit the saint’s shrine in Tours.16 Whether this was a true act of devotion or a mere cover-up story for a secret mission on behalf of the Byzantine Exarch of Ravenna, is unknown. Nevertheless, Fortunatus’ journey took him through Francia, and in 566 he arrived at the Austrasian court in Metz just on time for the grand occasion of King Sigibert’s marriage to the Visigothic princess Brunhild. A versed panegyric and an epithalamium, delivered by him to the royal couple on their wedding night,17 provided Fortunatus with an entry to the royal circle, and paved his way for success as a court poet in Merovingian Gaul. Fortunatus never went back to Italy. He travelled extensively throughout Francia over the next few years, offering his services as a court poet to other Merovingian kings and queens, such as Chilperic and Fredegund (d. 596/7),18 Charibert (d. 567),19 Childebert

13 Cassiodorus, Variae II.40, ed. Fridh, pp. 87–91. 14 Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, V.44 and VI.46, ed. Krusch and Levison, pp. 253 and 320 respectively. Of all these works, only one hymn survives; see Hymni latini antiquiores lxxv psalmi iii, ed. W. Bulst (Heidelberg, 1956), no. 9, p. 119. On Chilperic’s hymn, see D. Norberg, La poesie latine rythmique du Haut Moyen Age (Stockholm, 1954), pp. 31–40 15 Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, V.44, ed. Krusch and Levison, pp. 253 [trans. Thorpe, Gregory of Tours, p. 312]. 16 On Venantius Fortunatus’ life and work, see J.W. George, Venantius Fortunatus: A Poet in Merovingian Gaul (Oxford, 1992). See also Godman, Poets and Emperors, pp. 1–37; L. Pietri, ‘Venance Fortunat e ses commanditaires: un poète italien dans la société gallo-franque’, in Committenti et produzione artistico-letteraria nell’alto medioevo occidentale, Settimane 39 (Spoleto, 1992), pp. 729–54. 17 Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, VI.1.a and VI.1, ed. and trans. M. Reydellet, 3 vols. (Paris, 1994–2004), II, pp. 43–52. 18 See Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, IX.1–3, ed. and trans. Reydellet, III, pp. 8–22. 19 See Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, VI.2, ed. and trans. Reydellet, II, pp. 53–7.

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II (d. 596),20 and Radegund (d. 587).21 As time passed and his fame as a poet grew far and wide, Fortunatus steadily enlarged his circle of patrons. Many of the Frankish aristocrats whom he had met at the royal wedding in Metz, among them Duke Lupus of Champagne,22 the majores domus Gogo and Conda,23 Dynamius and Iovinus of Provence,24 as well as various bishops and religious women of aristocratic origins,25 became the dedicatees of numerous poems and epitaphs. Fortunatus’ literary yield and his unmatched popularity among the Frankish magnates are evidence not only for the royal patronage of culture in Merovingian Gaul, but also for the dissemination of cultural patronage outside the royal court in Frankish aristocratic circles. The fact that cultural patronage was never confined to the court itself, is well known. High officials and other aristocrats who visited the court and experienced its culture are commonly perceived by scholars as the most likely agents in the propagation of culture outside the court, and consequently the existence of cultural interest and cultural activity was sought and found in well-off and well-connected aristocratic circles. But, as we have already noted, any act of patronage has particular aims and objectives, and in the case of cultural patronage, so it seems, the gain was social prestige. Culture and its by-products became a status symbol and, therefore, an integral part of the aristocratic struggle for reputation and supremacy. The evidence from early Merovingian Gaul accords quite neatly with the standard textbook understanding of the relationship between courts and culture. On the one hand there was a royal court that patronised culture and initiated trends; on the other hand there was a vibrant aristocracy that participated in this culture and disseminated it outside the royal court. However, in the later part of the Merovingian period, various changes in the nature of the royal court brought about a shift in emphasis, and consequently new channels of patronage evolved. For the 20 See Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, X.7–9, ed. and trans. Reydellet, III, pp. 78–86. 21 On the many poems addressed by Fortunatus to Radegund, see George, Venantius Fortunatus, pp. 161–78. 22 See Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, VII.7–8, ed. and trans. Reydellet, II, pp. 94–100. 23 See Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, VII.1–2 and 16, ed. and trans. Reydellet, II, pp. 85–8 and 111–14. 24 See Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, VI.9–10 and VII.11–12, ed. and trans. Reydellet, II, pp. 80–4 and 102–8. 25 See, for example, Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, IV.26, ed. and trans. Reydellet, II, pp. 155–63, and passim.

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first time in the history of culture and its dissemination in the Barbarian West, we find a group of courtiers who were both the producers and audience of literature, and subsequently its chief disseminators, not to aristocratic provincial courts, but to monasteries and cathedral churches. These developments were of crucial importance; not only did they set the tone for things to come, they also brought the Church and its institutions into the centre of the cultural orbit. It was the royal court of Clothar II and his son Dagobert I that laid the foundations for the cultural transformation of the early seventh century, and in order to understand why this happened when it did, one must consider three significant interrelated preconditions for this development: the changing nature of the Merovingian court, the emergence of a kind of court school, and the spread of Columbanian monasticism.

Court and culture in seventh-century Francia Despite the fact that Merovingian kings sometimes favoured certain palaces and cities, the royal court throughout the early Merovingian period remained an itinerant institution.26 The entire royal household moved with the king across the kingdom, with no fixed political or administrative centre. But, during the late sixth and early seventh century the Merovingian itinerant court became larger and increasingly sedentary. The Merovingian kings began to spend the whole winter in a small group of favoured palaces, mainly in the region of Paris and the Seine basin.27 These conditions were a significant change in the old routine of continuous movement from one residence to the next throughout the Frankish realm. 26 See, for example, E. Ewig, ‘Résidence et capitale pendant le haut Moyen Age’, in Revue historique 230 (1963), pp. 25–72 [reprinted in idem, Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien, ed. Atsma, I, pp. 362–408]; C. Brühl, ‘Remarques sur les notions de “capitale” et de “residence” pendant le haut Moyen Age’, Journal des Savantes (1967), pp. 193–215 [reprinted in idem, Aus Mittelalter und Diplomatik. Gesammelte Aufsätze, 3 vols (Munich and Zurich, 1989–1997), I, pp. 115–35]; J. Barbier, ‘Le système palatial franc: genèse et fonctionnement dans le Nord-Ouest du regnum’, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 148 (1990), pp. 245–99. 27 See A. Dierkens and P. Périn, ‘Les sedes regiae mérovingiennes entre Seine et Rhin’, in Sedes regiae, ed. Ripoll and Gurt, pp. 267–304. See also M. Rouche, ‘Entre civitas et sedes regni: Grégoire de Tours et les espaces politiques de son temps’, in Grégoire de Tours et l’espace gaulois. Actes du congers international, Tours, 3–5 Novembre 1994, ed. N. Gauthier and H. Galinié (Tours, 1997), pp. 179–84.

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Only in 613, after reuniting the entire Frankish territory under his control, did King Chlothar II finally settled with his court in Paris.28 When his son Dagobert I succeeded him as the sole ruler of the Frankish kingdom, he too settled in Paris, abandoning Metz, his former Austrasian sedes regiae.29 This dramatic change enabled the Frankish king to gather a larger retinue and to spend more time with it all year round in feasts, ceremonies and councils. It was a much more favourable environment for the cultivation of culture and for the emergence of an elaborate system of cultural patronage.

The Merovingian court school Unfortunately, we know very little about Chlothar II’s education, apart from the fact that he ‘was strong-minded and well-read (litterum eruditus)’.30 After Chilperic’s death, the leading magnates of his realm promised Queen Fredegund, King Chlothar II’s mother, that her son, only four months old at the time, would be brought up with ‘the greatest care’ (studiosissime).31 This must have included some basic literary education, as attested by Chlothar’s ability to add his signature to several original charters.32 Yet, it is impossible to gauge precisely what type of education Chlothar received in his youth.33 About the education of the young Dagobert we know even less. At the age of eleven he was appointed king of Austrasia, and was placed under the supervision of both the Austrasian major domus Pippin I (d. 640)

28 See Dierkens and Périn, ‘Les sedes regiae mérovingiennes’, pp. 286–7. See also P. Périn, ‘Paris mérovingien, sedes regiae’, Klio 71 (1989), pp. 487–502. 29 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.60, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 50. 30 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.42, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 36. 31 Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, VII.19, ed. Krusch and Levison, p. 339. On Chlothar II’s early years as king, see T. Offergeld, Reges pueri. Das Königtum Minderjähriger im frühen Mittelalter, MGH Scchriften 50 (Hannover, 2001), pp. 216–25. 32 See, for example, ChLA XIII.550 and 552. Also edited in Die Urkunden der Merowinger, ed. T. Kölzer et al., MGH Diplomata regum Francorum e stripe Merovingica (Hannover, 2001), nos 22 and 28, pp. 63–4 and 76–7 respectively. 33 Bishop Praetextatus’ vicious criticism of Fredegund’s motherhood must not be taken to imply that the young Chlothar’s education was neglected. For Praetextatus’ criticism, see Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, VIII.31, ed. Krusch and Levison, p. 397. And see Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 226–7.

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and Bishop Arnulf of Metz (d. c. 640). 34 If we are to believe the seventhcentury Vita Arnulfi, and there is no reason why we should not, Arnulf was also in charge of the young prince’s education.35 This could only be expected, as in Merovingian Gaul educating the young princes was customarily the responsibility of the major domus.36 However, even before moving to Austrasia, Dagobert had received some education at his father’s court, where he was joined by young aristocrats from all over Francia. The sedentary nature of the royal court of Chlothar II and his successor Dagobert I facilitated the development of a court ‘school’. Aristocrats from all corners of the Merovingian kingdom sent their children to be educated at court with the young princes and under the supervision of the major domus. This was by no means a new phenomenon,37 but during the first decades of the seventh-century it became more common and widespread. Consequently, a flow of talented young aristocrats frequented the Frankish court, and turned it into a lively centre of cultural activity. Its fame grew far and wide, so that it even reached the Anglo-Saxon queen Æthelburh, who sent her sons to be educated at Dagobert’s court.38 What was taught at court, and precisely in what context, is not at all clear. Pierre Riché has argued that it was not a school in the scholarly sense of the word, since those who were sent there had already received literary education at home,39 but more of a staff school that trained officers and bureaucrats to ensure a steady supply of loyal officers. This may well be true, but given the fragmentary nature of our evidence it is impossible to reconstruct the court school’s syllabus with any certainty.

34 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.48, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 49; Liber historiae Francorum, c. 41, ed. Krusch, pp. 311–12. On Dagobert I’s early years as king, see Offergeld, Reges pueri, pp. 235–8. 35 Vita sancti Arnulfi episcopi et confessoris, c. 16, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), p. 439. 36 See the case of Gogo, the Austrasian major domus, who was Childebert II’s governor; Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, V.46, ed. Krusch and Levison, p. 256. 37 See, for example, Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, V.46, ed. Krusch and Levison, pp. 256–7; Vita Arnulfi, c. 3, ed. Krusch, p. 433. 38 See Bede, Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, II.20, ed. and trans. B. Colgrave and R.A.B. Mynors, Oxford Medieval Texts (Oxford, 1969), p. 204. This might have been, as pointed out by Wallace-Hadrill, a family matter, but still, the choice of Dagobert’s court is extremely significant. See J.M. Wallace-Hadrill, Bede’s Ecclesiastical History of the English People: A Historical Commentary (Oxford, 1988), p. 85. 39 See Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 239–46.

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As far as the aristocracy is concerned, the aula regis was the best starting point for a young nobleman, and many of those who gathered at the courts of Chlothar II and Dagobert I became powerful and influential magnates in seventh-century Francia. A certain Desiderius, for example, the son of an aristocratic family from Aquitaine, reached the court of Chlothar II around 614, where he met the young prince Dagobert. He later became Dagobert’s treasurer, and in 630 Dagobert himself nominated him to the bishopric of Cahors.40 Similarly, Audoinus, the son of a Neustrian aristocratic family, was also sent to be educated at the court of Chlothar II, where he spent his youth with Dagobert and other aristocratic youngsters. He was later appointed referendarius (i.e. chancellor) by Dagobert, and in 641 he became the bishop of Rouen.41 After several years at the service of the Merovingian kings, these successful courtiers retired from royal service, and slipped effortlessly into high ecclesiastical offices. Eligius (d. 660), King Dagobert’s counsellor, became the bishop of Noyon; Desiderius, as we have already noted, was appointed to the see of Cahors; Faro, Dagobert’s referendarius, was appointed to the see of Meaux; Wandregisilus, another one of Dagobert’s councellors, found his way to the abbey which later was named after him – Saint-Wandrille; he was succeeded there by Ansbert, Chlothar III’s referendarius, who was later nominated to the see of Rouen; Geremer, yet another of Dagobert’s counsellors, founded the abbey of Saint-Samson-sur-Risle and was its first abbot, while holding at the same time the abbacy of Saint-Germer-de-Fly; and Filibert, another aristocrat that was educated at the court of Chlothar III, became the abbot of Rebais, Jumièges and Noirmoutier.42 This is by no means an exhaustive list, but it is fairly representative, and it suffices to demonstrate the powerful network nurtured at the court of Chlothar II and Dagobert

40 On Desiderius, see Vita Desiderii episcopi Cadurcensis, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM IV (Hannover, 1902), pp. 563–93 [reprinted in CCSL 117 (Turnhout, 1957), pp. 343–401]. See also Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 149–52; J. Durliat, ‘Les attributions civiles de l’évêques mérovingiens: l’example de Didier, évêque de Cahors (630–655)’, Annales du Midi 91 (1979), pp. 237–54. 41 See Vita Audoini episcopi Rotomagensis, ed. W. Levison, MGH SRM V (Hannover, 1910), pp. 553–67. See also Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, pp. 132–52, and see there for further bibliography. 42 On all these men, see the relevant entries in H. Ebling, Prosopographie der Amtstäger des Merowingerreichs von Chlothar II (613) bis Karl Martell (741), Beihefte der Francia 2 (Munich, 1974). See also P. Riché and P. Périn, Dictionaire des Francs: les temps mérovingiens (Paris, 1996).

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I – a network which Barbara Rosenwein defines as an ‘emotional community’.43 No doubt the promotion of high royal officials to pivotal ecclesiastical offices was a policy knowingly devised by the Merovingian kings. On the one hand, the royal court was indeed a meeting place, where strong ties and cooperation between kings and nobles were facilitated. On the other hand, it was an instance of subtle but effective exercise of royal power over the nobility. No one in early seventh-century Francia could fail to notice the rising power of these local elites.44 Consequently, Chlothar II and Dagobert I made several concessions to their demands, not the least by preserving the geo-political division of the kingdom. Something had to be done in order to prevent the increasing erosion in royal power and authority. So, royal agents and trustees were stationed in key positions of Francia’s ecclesiastical structure.45 This both satisfied the Merovingian aristocracy’s aspiration for political power, since its members ascended to the lofty bishoprics, but also kept that aristocracy under control by mobilising it into the service of the Merovingian king. In other words, the Merovingian nomination policy of successful courtiers to high ecclesiastical offices was a carefully judged royal attempt to keep the local aristocracies at bay.

43 See B.H. Rosenwein, Emotional Communities in the Early Middle Ages (Ithaca and London, 2006), pp. 135–55. 44 On the rising power of the aristocracy see, for example, Weidemann, ‘Adelsfamilien im Chlotharreich’. See also R. Gerberding, The Rise of the Carolingians and the Liber Historiae Francorum (Oxford, 1987). 45 On the powerful political position of bishops and abbots in Merovingian Gaul, see M. Heinzelmann, Bischofsherrschaft in Gallien. Zur Kontinuität römischer Führungsschichten vom 4. bis zum 7. Jahrhundert. Soziale, prosopographische und bildungsgeschichte Aspekte, Beihefter der Francia 5 (Sigmaringen, 1976); idem, ‘L’aristocratie et les évêchés entre Loire et Rhin jusqu’à la fin du VIIe siècle’, Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France 168 (1976), pp. 75–90 [reprinted with updated bibliography in La christianisation des pays entre Loire et Rhin (IVe-VIIe siècle), ed. P. Riché, Histoire religieuse de la France 2 (Paris, 1993), pp. 75–90 and 260–1]; idem, ‘Bischof und Herrschaft im spätantiken Gallien bis zu den karolingischen Hausmeiern. Die institutionellen Grundlagen’, in Herrschaft und Kirche. Beiträge zu Entstehung und Wirkungsweise episkopaler und monasticher Organisationformen, ed. F. Prinz, Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 33 (Stuttgart, 1988), pp. 23–82; R. Kaiser, ‘Königtum und Bischofsherrschaft im frühmittelalterlichen Neustrien’, in Herrschaft unde Kirche, ed. Prinz, pp. 83–108. See also G. Scheibelreiter, Der Bischof im merowingischer Zeit, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschungen 27 (Vienna, Cologne and Graz, 1983).

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The time at court was a formative period for the young Merovingian aristocrats, during which they played a crucial role in the formation of the court’s culture as an audience, producers, and subsequently, chief disseminators. These young men developed a strong sense of camaraderie (contubernium) and friendship (amicitia) that were cultivated by the adoption of the insignia and gestures of the late Roman imperial bodyguard, and lubricated through exchange of poetry and letters.46 At court, these were forms of courtly entertainment and competition; beyond the court, letters and poetic epistles served as a system of communication of social and political news. Throughout their lives, these friends exchanged letters to ensure support when needed, and these lines of communication ensured that old friendships were never forgotten. Years after he left the royal court ‘the memory of the camaraderie and the sweetness of a youth passed under a cloudless sky’,47 was recalled by Desiderius of Cahors in a letter addressed to King Dagobert. In another letter, to Audoinus of Rouen, Desiderius mentions the good old times at the court of Chlothar II, where they met Eligius, future bishop of Noyons, and many others: May the old affection we had to each other and, indeed, to our Eligius, remain unchanged just as our close brotherhood used to be. In my silent prayers I beg that we shall be worthy to live together in the palace of the supreme heavenly king, just as we had been friends in the court of an earthly prince. And may we also have [with us] the two brothers from our fraternity [Rusticus and Sagitarius], who had already died, the venerable Paul, and the not less laudable Sulpicius.48 These were not mere nostalgic sentiments. Desiderius’ correspondence with his old friends Eligius of Noyon,49 Paul of Verdun (d. c. 647),50 and Sulpicius of Bourges (d. 642),51 all mentioned in his letter to Audoinus, illuminates the ways in which this network of amity provided moral as 46 See Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 242–6; Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 149–52. See also I.N. Wood, “Administration, law and culture in Merovingian Gaul’, in The Uses of Literacy in Early Medieval Europe, ed. R. McKitterick (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 63–81, esp. pp. 67–71. 47 Desiderius, Epistulae, I.5, ed. D. Norberg, Studia Latina Stockholmiensia 6 (Uppsala, 1961), p. 18. I cite the English translation from Riché, Education and Culture, p. 239. 48 Desiderius, Epistulae, I.11, ed. Norberg, p. 30. 49 Desiderius, Epistulae, II.6, ed. Norberg, p. 52. 50 Desiderius, Epistulae, I.12, II.11 and 12, ed. Norberg, pp. 30 and 61. 51 Desiderius, Epistulae, I.13, II.1, 5 and 10, ed. Norberg, pp. 33, 41–2, 50 and 58.

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well as political support to its members. Moreover, Desiderius’ correspondence casts interesting light on King Chlothar II’s court, and on the way of these brilliant young men. They were all talented authors, engaged in literary and artistic work, that constituted the very essence of late Merovingian court culture. Subsequently they were the instigators of a creative and prolific literary activity, that some scholars have labelled the ‘Merovingian Renaissance’. What is remarkable in this process is not so much that the Merovingian kings used their courtiers in order to control local politics, or that royal administrators and churchmen used the written word to cultivate their friendship and sense of identity.52 Rather it is the fact that all those courtiers, who slowly took control of the highest ecclesiastical ranks in Merovingian Francia, brought with them into the Church the ‘secular’ culture with which they were familiar. They did not stop communicating with each other in writing just because they became ecclesiastical dignitaries. On the contrary; most of the letters written by Chlothar II’s and Dagobert I’s courtiers, were written after they had left the court to such appointments. Hence, these remarkable courtiersecclesiastics-scholars turned the ecclesiastical institutions throughout Gaul into centres of religious cultural activity, marked by their formative experiences at the royal court early in life.

Culture and monasticism The third and last factor that must be considered here is the strong association formed between the Merovingian kings (and subsequently the provincial aristocracy) and Columbanus and his monastic movement. Monasticism was not a new phenomenon in Merovingian Gaul, but Columbanus and his followers introduced into Francia a different kind of monasticism.53 Their rigorous lifestyle, their rural location, and

52 See, for example, C. Leyser, ‘ “This sainted isle”: panegyric, nostalgia, and the invention of Lerinian monasticism’, in The Limits of Christianity. Essays on Late Antique Thought and Culture in Honour of R.A. Markus, ed. W.E. Klingshirn and M. Vessey (Ann Arbor, 1999), pp. 188–214. 53 On Columbanus and his monasteries, see F. Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum im Frankenreich. Kultur und Gesellschaft in Gallien, den Rheinlanden und Bayern am Beispiel der monastischen Entwicklung (4. bis 8. Jahrhundert), 2nd edn (Munich, 1988), pp. 121–51; Geary, Before France and Germany, pp. 169–78; Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 181–202; idem, The Missionary Life. Saints and the Evangelisation of Europe, 400–1050 (London and New York, 2001), pp. 31–42. See also the various papers collected in Columbanuus and

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their independence of episcopal control marked the recently founded Columbanian houses as a new monastic phenomenon that attracted many members of the local Frankish aristocracy. A good example for this trend, is provided by the family of Audoinus of Rouen: In the time of glorious King Chlothar, the son of King Chilperic, in the province of Gaul, at the stronghold of Soissons, three venerable men were born, begotten as noble from one stock, and made famous by the grace of God from on high: Ado, Dado and Rado. Their father was Audecharius, their mother Aiga, each decorated with the height of Christianity. From the first stages of infancy, having been instructed in the subtlety of letters, they were beloved by the king himself and most well and most wisely educated by men of illustrious standing. Their firstborn, Ado, flourished indeed in the monastic order, and, seeking the religious life, he scorned the malice of this world. Rado, on the other hand, was made custodian of the palace treasure, having attained high worldly office. Girded with the fear of the Lord and generous in alms, he faithfully guarded and served in high office. The venerable Audoinus, therefore, also named Dado, was elevated as bishop of the episcopal cathedra, having attained royal recognistion. And he performed his duties for a long time.54 At first sight, there seems to be nothing special in the collective portrait of Audoinus’ family. Yet, the three brothers – Ado, Dado and Rado – who joined the Columbanian monastic movement at some stage in their lives, went on to found the monasteries of Rebais, Jouarre, Fontenelle (Saint-Wandrille) and maybe even Radolium (Reuil).55 These acts of monastic foundation reflect neatly the new fashion among Merovingian aristocrats in the early seventh century. The increasing number of aristocrats, who supported Columbanus and subsequently joined his monastic movement, also founded numerous monastic houses on their rural estates, and more often than not nominated one of their relatives to Merovingian Monasticism, ed. H.B. Clark and M. Brennan, British Archaeological Reports, International Series 113 (Oxford, 1981); Columbanus: Studies on the Latin Writings, ed. M. Lapidge, Studies in Celtic History 17 (Woodbridge, 1997). 54 Vita Audoini, c. 1, ed. Levison, pp. 554–5. I cite the English translation of Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, pp. 153–4. 55 The latter is reported by the Vita Agili abbatis Rebacensis, c. 4, AASS, Aug. VI, p. 582(E). This, however, is questionable; see Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, p. 139, n. 38.

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head the new institution. The first abbess of Jouarre, for example, was Theodechildis, the niece of Ado, Dado and Rado.56 And in Nivelles, to give just one more example, Itta, Pippin I’s widow, who founded the monastery on her own estate after her husband’s death nominated her daughter, Gertrud, as its first abbess.57 The foundation of Luxeuil (in the Vosges) and its daughter houses, as well as the success of the entire Columbanian monastic movement, could hardly have been possible without the protection and lavish material support of the Merovingian kings and their aristocracy. Columbanus’ preaching and charisma were, no doubt, an important stimulus that sparked the initial aristocratic interest in his monastic ideal. But, as time passed an increasing number of aristocrats were attracted to the new monastic opportunity, and so family interests mingled with pious ones. Hence, under the rule of Chlothar II and Dagobert I, the control of monastic communities was established as one of the most important building-blocks of aristocratic power in Francia. Places like Jouaree, Nivelles, or Saint-Wnadrille became key points in family politics, and it is not at all surprising that when, in the later part of the seventh century, Pippin II (d. 714), the Austrasian major domus, sought to expand his area of influence and create new political allegiances, he did so little by little, combining military victory, family and land-holding policy, and a monastic policy – Klosterpolitik.58 Clothar II, Dagobert I and their successors were quick to grasp the changing reality. Chlothar formed close ties with the abbey of Luxeuil and became its major patron.59 Subsequently, as pointed out by Ian Wood, Luxeuil functioned as a centre for propaganda in support of

56 On Jouarre and its foundation, see Marquise de Maillé, Les cryptes de Jouarre (Paris, 1971); J. Hubert, J. Porscher and F.W. Volbach, Europe in the Dark Ages (London, 1969), pp. 64–78. 57 On Nivelles and its foundation, see A. Dierkens, ‘Saint Amand et la fondation de l’abbaye de Nivelles’, Revue du Nord 68 (1986), pp. 325–34. See also E. Patraschka, Fränkischer Adel und irische Peregrini im 7. Jahrhundert (Frankfurt, 1999). 58 On the rise of the Carolingians under Pippin II, see McKitterick, The Frankish Kingdoms, pp. 22–30; Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 255–66; Gerberding, The Rise of the Carolingians, pp. 95–115; I. Heidrich, ‘Les maires du palais neustriens du milieu du VIIe au milieu du VIIIe siècle’, in La Neustrie, ed. Atsma, I, pp. 217–29; P. Fouracre, ‘Observations on the outgrowth of Pippinid influence in the “Regum Francorum” after the battle of Tertry (687–715)’, Medieval Prosopography 5 (1984), pp. 1–31. 59 See Jonas of Bobbio, Vita Columbani abbatis Luxoviensis et Bobiensis, I.30, ed. W. Levison, MGH SRG 37 (Hannover, 1905), pp. 220–4.

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Chlothar and his successors.60 Moreover, the Merovingian rulers of early seventh-century Francia clearly understood that control over monasteries and episcopal sees was a way to extend aristocratic power by ecclesiastical means. Their reaction was two-fold. On the one hand, as we have already seen, they aimed to control the nomination of abbots and bishops by placing their men in key positions throughout the kingdom; on the other, they supported the privileged status of the newly founded monastic institutions by granting them immunities from royal administration and episcopal jurisdiction. At face value these immunities seem like a sign of royal weakness, but a closer look at their nature and aims reveals that they were much more than a simple concession of royal power to the local elites. As Barbara Rosenwein has clearly demonstrated, the immunities granted to such monasteries created close association between these institutions and the Merovingian kings, and tied the powerful local aristocratic networks to the royal court.61 Inevitably these developments had their cultural implications. First, seventh-century Francia produced an outpouring of legal documents, which record the various foundations, donations, grants of immunities and privileges, and settlement of disputes.62 It is precisely this increase in the production of legal documents that turned Merovingian Gaul into ‘a bureaucratic society’,63 and it is these documents that teach us more than anything else about the practical uses of the written word in seventh-century Francia.64 Second, seventh-century Francia became

60 Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 195–6. See also I.N. Wood, ‘The Vita Columbani and Merovingian Hagiography’, Peritia 1 (1982), pp. 63–80; idem, ‘Jonas, the Merovingians and Pope Honorius’, in After Rome’s Fall, ed. Murray, pp. 99–120. 61 See B. Rosenwein, Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe (Ithaca and Manchester, 1999), esp. pp. 74–96. See also G. Depeyrot, Richesse et société chez les mérovingiens et carolingiens (Paris, 1994), pp. 80–2. 62 The starting point on this issue is P. Classen, Kaisarreskript und Königsurkunde. Diplomatische Studien zum Problem der Kontinuität zwischen Altertum und Mittelalter, Byzantina Keimena Kai Meletai 15 (Thessalonica, 1977). See also C. Brühl, ‘Das merowingische Königtum in Spiegel seiner Urkunden’, in La Neustrie, ed. Atsma, I, pp. 523–33; P. Fouracre, “‘Placita” and the settlement of disputes in later Merovingian Francia’, in The Settlement of Disputes in Early Medieval Europe, ed. W. Davies and P. Fouracre (Cambridge, 1986), pp. 23–43, esp. pp. 23–6; Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, pp. 28–30. 63 Wood, ‘Administration, law and culture’, p. 1. 64 See Wood, ‘Administration, law and culture’, passim; Hen, Culture and Religion, pp. 41–2.

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an extremely prolific centre of hagiographical writing.65 Aristocrats– courtiers–ecclesiastics were again the protagonists, authors, and readers. An excellent case in point is the Vita Eligii.66 Its first version was composed by no other than Audoinus of Rouen, Eligius’ close friend from Chlothar II’s court.67 Audoinus sent a draft of it to Chrodobert, bishop of Paris and later bishop of Tours,68 who read the vita, corrected it, and returned it with comments to his old friend.69 Chrodobert, according to the Vita Balthildis, was one of the queen’s counsellors,70 and after the death of King Clovis II (in 657), Chrodobert and Audoinus were the two major figures in Merovingian politics, apart from the queen herself and her major domus, Ebroin.71 Hence, although we do not know whether Chrodobert had started his career as a youngster at court, he was certainly a member of the circle that evolved around the courts of Chlothar II, Dagobert I and their successors. The two letters, which document the literary exchange between Audoinus and Chrodobert, 65 For a useful list of vitae with their date and place of composition (wherever known), see R. Godding, Prêtres en Gaule mérovingienne, Subsidia hagiographica 82 (Brussels, 2001), pp. xx–xxxix. See also W. Berschin, Biographie und Epochenstil im lateinischen Mittelalter, II, Quellen und Untersuchungen zur lateinischen Philologie des Mittelalters 9 (Stuttgart, 1988). For a more general discussion on the nature of seventh-century Hagiography, see P. Fouracre, ‘Merovingian History and Merovingian Hagiography’, Past and Present 127 (1990), pp. 3–38; Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, pp. 33–52. 66 For an edition, see Vita Eligii episcopi Noviomensis, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM IV (Hannover, 1902), pp. 663–741. 67 Although it continued to bear the name of Audoinus as it’s author, the Vita Eligii was re-worked, re-edited and changed significantly during the Merovingian period. On the Vita Eligii, see P. Fouracre, ‘The work of Audeoinus of Rouen and Eligius of Noyon in extending episcopal influence from town to the country in seventh-century Neustria’, Studies in Church History 16 (1979), pp. 77–91; idem, ‘Merovingian history and Merovingian hagiography’; Hen, Culture and Religion, pp. 196–7; I. Westeel-Houste, ‘Quelques remarques sur la Vita Eligii, Vie de saint Éloi’, Mélanges de science religieuse 56 (1999), pp. 33–47. 68 On Chrodobert, see Y. Hen, ‘Changing places: Chrodobert, Boba, and the wife of Grimoald’ (in press). 69 Vita Eligii, Appendix, ed. Krusch, p. 741. On these letters, see Krusch’s introduction, ibid., pp. 650–1; K.H. Debus, ‘Studien zu merowingischen Urkunden und Briefen. Untersuchungen und Texte (Zweiter Teil)’, Archiv für Diplomatik 14 (1968), pp. 1–192, at pp. 9–11 and 119. 70 Vita sanctae Balthildis, c. 5, ed. Krusch, p. 487. 71 See Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 140–58 and 221–38; Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France, pp. 1–26. See also, Gerberding, The Rise of the Carolingians, passim; Ewig, Die Merowinger, pp. 142–72.

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were appended to the Vita Eligii, perhaps in an attempt to give it more credibility, and they clearly demonstrate how the network of courtiersecclesiastics operated, even after they had left the court. The intellectual activity of the aristocrats, who joined Columbanus and his followers, and the various royal nominees for positions of abbots and bishops, did not stop when they left the court. They simply modified their cultural activity and adapted it to their new needs and circumstances. The strong ties that evolved in seventh-century Francia between the royal court, the Merovingian local elites, and the growing Colombanian monastic movement laid the foundations for the outburst of intellectual activity in seventh-century Gaul, which has produced most of our sources for the period. These close ties, we must constantly bear in mind, were the outcome of the Merovingian monarchy’s attempt to enhance its authority and to strengthen its control over the local elites and their institutions. Another way to achieve this goal was the patronage of liturgy.

Flirting with liturgy On 19 January 638 King Dagobert I died at his villa of Épinay-sur-Seine after suffering for several weeks from fever and dysentery.72 In a short obituary excursus, Fredegar relates that: He was buried in the Church of Saint-Denis, which he had magnificently embellished with gold, gems and precious things and had decorated from end to end in a remarkable way, in the hope of ensuring the precious patronage of the saint. He gave the church such riches and so many domains and possessions in different places that many were struck with astonishment. He instituted a perpetual chant in the church on the model of the monastery of Saint Maurice, but this practice is known to have been allowed to fall into desuetude through the feebleness of Abbot Aegulf.73 72 On the date of Dagobert’s death, see C. Courtois, ‘L’avèment de Clovis II et les régles d’accession au trône chez les Mérovingiens’, in Mélanges d’histoire du Moyen Age dédiés à la mémoire de Louis Halphen (Paris, 1951), pp. 155–64, at p. 159. See also Weidemann, ‘Zur chronologie der Merowinger’, pp. 178–83. According to the Liber historiae Francorum, Clovis died at Épinay, while Fredegar indicates that he only fell ill at Épinay and later died at Saint-Denis. See Liber historiae Francorum, c. 43, ed. Krusch, p. 315; Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.79, ed. and trans. J.M. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 67. 73 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.79, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 67–8.

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Fredegar’s description of King Dagobert’s activities, is an appropriate starting point for any discussion of kings and liturgy in Frankish Gaul. Although some sixth-century antecedents to the interest of Frankish monarchs in liturgy can be found in the prayers and hymns composed by Dagobert’s grandfather, King Chilperic,74 it seems that the early Merovingians were not particularly interested in liturgy. This situation was changed dramatically in the later Merovingian period. From the early decades of the seventh century an explicit interest in liturgy was manifested by Frankish kings and queens and a clear pattern of liturgical patronage emerged. These developments are closely linked in our sources with the activities of King Dagobert, the first Frankish king whose patronage of liturgy is clearly documented. Fredegar, as we have just seen, stressed in his obituary King Dagobert’s munificence towards the abbey of Saint-Denis, and this is corroborated by the Liber historiae Francorum,75 the Vita Eligii,76 the ninth-century Gesta Dagoberti,77 and various charters. Yet, Dagobert, one should stress, was not the first Merovingian to demonstrate some interest in the cult and the abbey of Saint-Denis.78 In two charters granted to the abbey, King Chlothar II, Dagobert’s father, confirmed the gifts of others, and even characterised the saint as peculiaris patronus noster (although he still preferred to be buried in the Church of Saint-Vincent, i.e. SaintGermain-des-Près).79 It was only during Dagobert’s reign that SaintDenis became the focus of attention in the Merovingian court. Dagobert rebuilt and enlarged the abbey’s church, and embellished it with magnificent decorations, most of which were especially commissioned from the court jeweller Eligius, later bishop of Noyons.80 Then, as Fredegar relates, he also bestowed upon the monastery many gifts in lands and

74 75 76 77

Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, VI.46, ed. Krusch and Levison, p. 320. Liber historiae Francorum, c. 42, ed. Krusch, p. 314. Vita Eligii, I.32, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM IV (Hannover, 1902), pp. 688–9. Gesta Dagoberti I Regis Francorum, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), pp. 401–25, passim. 78 See, for example, Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, V.32 and 34, ed. Krusch and Levison, pp. 237 and 240–1. 79 See ChLA, XIII.550 and 552; also in Die Urkunden der Merowinger, ed. Kölzer, nos 22 and 28, pp. 63–4 and 76–7. Fredegar indicates that Chlothar II was buried in Saint-Vincent; see Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus IV.56, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 47. 80 These decorations are described in great detail by the Vita Eligii, I.32, ed. Krusch, pp. 688–9.

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grants from his own property throughout Francia.81 It is impossible to estimate the amount donated to the abbey by Dagobert, because, as Wallace-Hadrill pointed out, ‘a well-known group of falsified charters stand between the historian and this particular truth’.82 Nevertheless, there is no doubt that Dagobert was responsible for enriching the abbey of Saint-Denis and promoting it to a favoured position, that it became one of the most flourishing monastic centres in Merovingian Gaul. The abbey’s annual fair, which was also founded and granted toll privileges by King Dagobert, is only one manifestation of the privileged position that Saint-Denis came to enjoy during Dagobert’s reign.83 So central was the king’s role in advancing the status of Saint-Denis, that future historians, such as Aimoin of Fleury or the author of Les grandes chroniques de France, even believed him to have been the abbey’s original founder.84 According to the ninth-century Gesta Dagoberti, Dagobert felt obliged to donate all these riches to the abbey of Saint-Denis, because the saint had protected him during a quarrel with his father.85 Whether this was the real impetus behind Dagobert’s munificence to Saint-Denis, is impossible to ascertain. Although deep gratitude or true piety should not be dismissed as a motive for ecclesiastical patronage, there were some other pragmatic reasons which may have influenced the king’s decision. Like his father, Dagobert was dependent on the Church for its support and advice,86 and through his outstanding donations and grants of

81 On Dagobert’s munificence to Saint-Denis, see L. Levillain, ‘Études sur l’abbaye de Saint-Denis à l’époque mérovingienne’, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 86 (1925), pp. 5–99, at p. 22; J.M. Wallace-Hadrill, The Frankish Church (Oxfors, 1983), pp. 126–9; L. Theis, Dagobert. Un roi pour un peuple (Paris, 1982), pp. 41–5; Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum im Frankenreich, pp. 163–7; S. McKnight-Crosby and P.Z. Blum, The Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis from Its Beginnings to the Death of Suger, 475–1151 (New Haven and London, 1987), pp. 29–50. Dagobert granted Saint-Denis an immunity for only one property. A general immunity was granted to the abbey only by Clovis II, Dagobert’s son and successor. 82 Wallace-Hadrill, The Long-Haired Kings, p. 224. On these charters, see C. Brühl, Studien zu den merowingischen Königsurkunden, ed. T. Kölzer (Cologne, Weimar and Vienna, 1998), pp. 137–201. 83 See Hen, Culture and Religion, pp. 232–3 and see there for further references. 84 See, for example, Aimoin of Fleury, Gesta Francorum, IV.17, ed. M. Bouquet, Receuil des historiens des Gaules et de la France 3 (Paris, 1869), pp. 125–6; Les grandes chroniques de France, ed. J. Viard, 10 vols (Paris, 1920–53), II, pp. 180–1. 85 Gesta Dagoberti I, cc. 7–9, ed. Krusch, p. 403. 86 See Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 154–5; Geary, Before France and Germany, pp. 151–4 and 165–7.

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immunity Dagobert ensured that the Church, and more particularly the abbey of Saint-Denis, expanded its economic power.87 Consequently, he secured its support and increased his chances for future salvation, for Dagobert, as clearly stated by Fredegar, also expected spiritual rewards.88 In this sense, the endowment of riches and the grant of immunity were a means of exchanging earthly property for supernatural power.89 Yet, Dagobert had some doubts as to whether the monks of SaintDenis would fulfil their part of the deal. So, after heaping on the abbey a huge amount of treasure and landed property,90 he made an attempt to institute at Saint-Denis the singing of psalms in shifts (per turmas), following the model established at Saint-Maurice of Agaune.91 We know too little about the psalmody practised at Saint-Denis to argue, as does Barbara Rosenwein with reference to Agaune,92 that lengthy liturgy was an inverted form of military mobilisation. By instituting and enforcing such religious practices – in this case the so-called laus perennis – Dagobert exercised control over the monks of Saint-Denis.93 Given the

87 It might also be, as suggested by Raymond Van Dam, that ‘by promoting their own saints’ cults at Paris, Soissons, and Chalon-sur-Saône the Merovingians had effectively created a buffer along the Seine and the Saône rivers between their primary interests in northern and eastern Gaul and St Martin’s shrine at Tours’; see R. Van Dam, Saints and their Miracles in Late Antique Gaul (Princeton, 1993), p. 27. 88 See, for example, ChLA XIII.551; also in Die Urkunden der Merowinger, no. 41, ed. Kölzer, pp. 108–10. 89 P. Fouracre, ‘Eternal light and earthly needs: practical aspects of the development of Frankish immunities’, in Property and Power in the Early Middle Ages, ed. W. Davies and P. Fouracre (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 53–81, at p. 80. See also M. McLaughlin, Consorting with Saints. Prayer for the Dead in Early Medieval France (Ithaca and London, 1994), pp. 138–53. 90 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.79, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 67–8. See also the much later (c. 830) and, in many cases, unreliable Gesta Dagoberti I, cc. 7–11, ed. Krusch, pp. 403–4; Vita Eligii, I.32, ed. Krusch, pp. 688–9. 91 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.79, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 68. See also A. Walters-Robertson, The Service-Books of the Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis. Images of Ritual and Music in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1991), pp. 13–18. On the importance of Pslams to the monastic liturgy, see J. Dyer, ‘The Psalms in monastic prayer’, in The Place of the Psalms in the Intelectual Culture of the Middle Ages, ed. N. van Deusen (New York, 1999), pp. 59–89. 92 B. Rosenwein, ‘Perennial prayer at Agaune’, in Monks and Nuns, Saints and Outcasts: Religion in Medieval Society: Essays in Honor of Lester K. Little, ed. S. Farmer and B. Rosenwein (Ithaca and London, 2000), pp. 37–56. 93 See Rosenwein, ‘Perennial prayer at Agaune’, pp. 53–6 with reference to Augune.

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fact that Dagobert was about to entrust his bones to the abbey of SaintDenis, these matters were not to be taken lightly. In this way, he secured the prayers of the monks, and consequently increased his chances for salvation. Dagobert’s worries, which eventually led him to institute the laus perennis at Saint-Denis, were not fanciful. He could surely remember the incident with Columbanus, who refused to pray for Theudebert II before the battle of Tolbiac.94 But also, it seems, monks in Merovingian Gaul often forgot or neglected their duty to pray on behalf of their benefactors, and even in memory of their own dead. An illuminating case in point is to be found in the Visio Baronti. In his own uniquely vivid way, Barontus tells us that shortly after his trial:    they [i.e. the monks from his monastery that he met in heaven] chose one of their number, Framnoaldus, who, by God’s permission, had died as a boy in our monastery and lies buried there at the threshold of Saint Peter’s church. They earnestly besought him to take me back to the monastery and also gave him a promise, saying ‘if you bring this brother back to the monastery he will take care to brush the dirt off your tomb every Sunday and he will also sing the psalm “Have mercy on me, O God” over it, right to the end’. Turning to me they said: ‘Pledge yourself, brother, to fulfil these promises’. I at once promised to do so and gave my pledge. They replied: ‘See that you do this and are not condemned as a liar’. Then Brother Framnoaldus said: ‘I will carry out your order, so that he fulfil what he had promised’.95 As I have argued elsewhere, the Visio Baronti was composed as an admonitory intervention for the benefit of the monks of Longoretus and Millebeccus (both in the region of Berry, not far from the city of Bourges) to promote among them good monastic conduct.96 Hence, it is arguable that the passage just cited was a warning to all monks, who inadvertently 94 See See Vita Columbani, I.28, ed. Levison, pp. 218–19. 95 Visio Baronti, ed. W. Levison, MGH SRM V (Hannover, 1910), c. 14, p. 389. I cite the English translation from J.N. Hillgarth, Christianity and Paganism, 350–750: The Conversion of Western Europe (Philadelphia, 1986), p. 201. 96 See Y. Hen, ‘The structure and aims of the Visio Baronti’, Journal of Theological Studies 47 (1996), pp. 477–97. See also I. Moreira, Dreams, Visions and Spiritual Authority in Merovingian Gaul (Ithaca and New York, 2000), pp. 158–67; J.J. Contreni, “‘Building mansions in Heaven”: The Visio Baronti, Archangel Raphael, and a Carolingian King’, Speculum 78 (2003), pp. 673–706.

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let prayers for the dead lapse into oblivion. The monks of Saint-Denis were no different. Dagobert knew this very well, and notwithstanding his attempts to establish the laus perennis at Saint-Denis, his fears were shortly shown to have been justified, and the perpetual chant he instituted ceased to be practised.97 Although unsuccessful in the long term, Dagobert’s endeavour to institute perpetual chant in Saint-Denis, in emulation of Saint-Maurice of Agaune,98 is an important turning point in the history of the royal patronage of liturgy in Frankish Gaul.99 Dagobert, it seems, realised the political power inherent in the patronage of liturgy, and for the fist time in Merovingian history, he linked the endowment of riches to ecclesiastical institutions with prayer. Similarly, the nomination of bishops and abbots was linked by him with the duty of prayer for the king and his realm. For example, in the royal letter, which appointed Desiderius to the see of Cahors, Dagobert ordered him to pray ‘   for us and for all the ranks of the Church’.100 Thus, in his acts Dagobert established a pattern that was diligently followed by future kings and queens, Merovingian and Carolingian alike. In order to understand why liturgical patronage emerged when it did, one must examine the political ideology that emerged during the first half of the seventh century. In his survey of Germanic kingship in England and on the Continent, J.M. Wallace-Hadrill noted that ‘a change in emphasis comes over western kingship in the seventh century; kings move into an ecclesiastical atmosphere; they are required to consider their duties in a fresh light, and many actually have done so’.101 There was nothing new in this trend, which had already begun in the sixth century, if not earlier. Nevertheless, there was something new in the seventh century, since we hear more about kings in ecclesiastical terms. The first steps in that direction are evident in King Guthramn’s 97

See Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.79, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 68. 98 On the chanting instituted at Agaune, see Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, III.5, ed. Krusch and Levison, p. 101. See also Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum, pp. 102–4; I.N. Wood, ‘A prelude to Columbanus: the monastic achievement in the Burgundian territories’, in Columbanus and Merovingian Monasticism, ed. H.B. Clarke and M. Brennan, British Archaeological Reports 113 (Oxford, 1981), pp. 3–32, at 17–18. 99 See, for example, E. Ewig, ‘La prière pour le roi et le royaume dans les privilèges épiscopaux de l’époque mérovingienne’, in Mélanges offerts à Jean Dauvillier (Toulouse, 1979), pp. 255–67. 100 Vita Desiderii episcopi Cadurcensis, c. 13, ed. Krusch, p. 572. 101 Wallace-Hadrill, Early Germanic Kingship, p. 47.

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edict of 585, in which the Frankish king is first described as God’s minister.102 Thereafter, and throughout the Merovingian period, Christian themes came to dominate ideas of rulership and government in Frankish Gaul.103 A significant effect of this shift of emphasis was frequent recourse to biblical examples and citations, which denote the Christian complexion of the newly formed political reality.104 It was not to Byzantium that Merovingian authors looked for a royal model, but to the Bible, and more particularly to the historical books of the Old Testament. Obviously, this also had some sixth-century antecedents in the writings of Avitus of Vienne,105 Gregory of Tours,106 and Venantius Fortunatus.107 However, during the seventh century biblical comparisons became more frequent and the Christian message still more direct.108 For example, in the opening lines which introduced the canons of the council of Clichy (626/7), King Chlothar II is equated with King David, who ‘governed the kingdom with graceful providence, and who fulfilled the service of the prophet’.109 He was also described by Fredegar as ‘a God-fearing man’, who ‘was a munificent patron of churches and priests, an almsgiver

102 Gunthramni regis edictum (585, Nov. 10), ed. A. Boretius, MGH Cap. I, no. 5, pp. 10–12. 103 E. Ewig, ‘Zum christlichen Köningsgedanken im Frühmittelalter’, in Das Königtum. Seine geistigen und rechtlichen Grundlagen, ed. T. Mayer, Vorträge und Forschungen 3 (Sigmaringen, 1954), pp. 7–73 [reprinted in idem, Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien, I, pp. 3–71]; H.H. Anton, Fürstenspiegel und Herrscherethos in der Karolingerzeit, Bonner Historische Forschungen 32 (Bonn, 1968), pp. 49–55; Wallace-Hadrill, Early Medieval Kingship, pp. 47–53. 104 See Y. Hen, ‘The uses of the Bible and the perception of kingship in Merovingian Gaul’, Early Medieval Europe 7 (1998), pp. 277–90, esp. pp. 282–6. See also idem, ‘The Christianisation of Kingship’, in Der Dynastiewechsel von 751: Vorgeschichte, Legitimationsstrategien und Erinnerung, ed. M. Becher and J. Jarnut (Münster, 2004), pp. 163–77. 105 Avitus of Vienne, Homilia VII – Sermo de die I rogationisbus, ed. R. Peiper, MGH AA VI.2 (Berlin, 1883), p. 117. 106 On Gregory of Tours’ use of the Bible, see Heinzelmann, Gregory of Tours, pp. 36–93. See also Hen, ‘The uses of the Bible’, pp. 277–8. 107 Venantius Fortunatus, Carmina, VI.2.78–81 and IX.2.23–4, ed. and trans. Reydellet, II, p. 56 and III, p. 16. 108 Wallace-Hadrill, Early Medieval Kingship, pp. 47–53; Hen, ‘The uses of the Bible’, p. 284. 109 Concilium Clippiacense (626/7), ed. and trans. J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant, Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles), 2 vols, SC 353–354 (Paris, 1989), II, p. 528.

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to the poor, kindly disposed to all and full of piety’.110 Similarly, his son, Dagobert, according to the author of the Liber historiae Francorum, was brave, strict in judgement, generous to the Church, and ‘a man of peace, who maintained the peace in the kingdom of the Franks, just like Solomon’.111 Consequently, wisdom in judgement, defence of the Church and aid for the poor became the principal components of the late Merovingian views on the duties of a king. A different manifestation of the Christianisation of rulership in Merovingian Gaul was the emergence of the royal patronage of liturgy.112 In seventh century Francia, chants and prayers became an instrument by which heavenly protection could be sought for the benefit of the kingdom and its ruler.113 Large amounts of landed property, precious objects and various immunities were bestowed by Merovingian kings and queens upon monasteries and religious communities in order to secure their spiritual support.114 Needless to say, this phenomenon also had its sixth-century antecedents in King Sigismund’s institution of the laus perennis at Saint-Maurice of Agaune,115 or in Radegund’s prayers for the kings and the stability of their kingdoms.116 However, during the seventh century, acts of liturgical patronage became more frequent and they are amply attested in our sources. Dagobert was indeed the first, as we have seen, but his successors duly followed suit.

110 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.42, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 36. 111 Liber historiae Francorum, c. 42, ed. Krusch, p. 314. 113 See E. Ewig, ‘Das Privileg des Bischofs Berthefrid von Amiens für Corbie von 664 und die Klosterpolitik der Königin Balthild’, Francia 1 (1973), pp. 63–114, at 68 [reprinted in idem, Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien, II, pp. 538–83]. See also J.L. Nelson, ‘Queens as Jezebels: the careers of Brunhild and Balthild in Merovingian history’, in Medieval Women, ed. D. Baker, Studies in Church History, Subsisia 1 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 31–77, at p. 68 [reprinted in eadem, Politics and Ritual in Early Medieval Europe (London, 1986), pp. 1–48]; Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy, pp. 33–41. 114 On immunities and their implications in the Frankish Kingdoms, See B. Rosenwein, Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe (Ithaca and Manchester, 1999). See also G. Depeyrot, Richesse et société chez les Mérovingiens et Carotingiens (Paris, 1994), pp. 80–2. 115 On the chants instituted at Agaune, see Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, III.5, ed. Krusch and Levison, p. 101. See also Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum, pp. 102–4; Wood, ‘A prelude to Columbanus’, 17–18; Rosenwein, ‘Perennial prayer at Agaune’, pp. 37–56. 116 Baudonivia, Vita sanctae Radegundis, c. 10, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), p. 384.

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Clovis II (d. 657), Dagobert’s son, continued his father’s affinity with Saint-Denis and its patron saint. 117 He conferred huge estates on the monastery, granted it various immunities, and even managed to convince Bishop Landericus of Paris to exempt the monks from episcopal control. 118 Furthermore, in a charter dated 22 June 654, Clovis II reinstituted the laus perennis, which his father had failed to secure at Saint-Denis.119 Clovis II’s acts of patronage were continued by his widow, Queen Balthild, who founded and re-founded monasteries, nominated bishops and abbots, and supported many religious communities throughout Neustria and Burgundy, expecting these institutions to reciprocate with prayers.120 Her biographer bluntly stresses that she did it all in order to ‘entice them [i.e. the monks and nuns] to exhort the clemency of Christ, the highest king, for the king and for peace’, and, moreover, she ordered all those whom she entrusted to the monasteries to pray for her.121 It is, then, not at all surprising that all the centres associated with liturgical production in late Merovingian Gaul had links with either Balthild or Ebroin, the Neustrian major domus. 122 The material resources for the liturgical production of late seventh century Gaul were supplied by Balthild’s Klosterpolitik, which was motivated not only by religious piety, but also by political expediency.

117 See Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 155–7; Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy, pp. 37–8. 118 See ChLA XIII.555, 556, 558 and 559; also in Die Urkunden der Merowinger, nos 74, 72, 85, 75, ed. Kölzer, pp. 189–90, 184–6, 216–20, 190–2; Gesta Dagoberti I, cc. 49–51, ed. Krusch, pp. 423–5. See also Rosenwein, Negotiating Space, pp. 74–89. 119 ChLA XIII.558; also in Die Urkunden der Merowinger, no. 85, ed. Kölzer, p. 219. On the institution of the laus perennis, see also Wallace-Hadrill, The Frankish Church, pp. 129–30; Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum, pp. 105–6 and 168–9; J. Semmler, ‘Saint-Denis: von der bischöflichen Coemeterialbasilika zur königlichen Benedictinerabtei’, in La Neustrie: les pays au nord de la Loire de 650 à 850, ed. H. Atsma, 2 vols, Beihefter der Francia 16 (Sigmaringen, 1989), II, pp. 75–123, at 101–2; Walters-Robertson, The Service-Books of the Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis, pp. 19–24. 120 On Balthild’s policy, see Ewig, ‘Das Privileg des Bischofs Berthefrid von Amiens’, esp. 106–14; Nelson, ‘Queens as Jezebels’, pp. 67–72; Gerberding, The Rise of the Carolingians, pp. 67–91; Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 197–202; Hen, Culture and Religion, pp. 54–6; idem, the Royal Patronage of Liturgy, pp. 37–41. 121 Vita sanctae Balthildis, c. 9, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), pp. 493–4. 122 See Hen, Culture and Religion, pp. 54–5.

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The evidence for the concern of later Merovingian kings and queens to secure prayer throughout the realm is abundant. For example, the biographer of Eligius of Noyon relates that ‘   anxious by [care for] peace and devoted to the well-being of his homeland, he prayed day and night for the quiet of the churches, wherever they are, and for the peace of the princeps’.123 Even Marculf, the old monk who compiled (around 700) a collection of formulaic documents and letters, states in a formula of a royal letter to a bishop that ‘Your highness should do without any delay [whatever] you ought to do in order to satisfy our wish, and in order to pray, you as well as your people, fully and in perpetual vigil for the stability of our kingdom’.124 No doubt, the liturgical practice of praying for the king and for the country became widespread during the seventh century, despite the fact that Columbanus, when advised to do so, thought it was stultum ac religione alienum consilium (‘foolish and irreligious’).125 It is no mere coincidence that several liturgical books from late Merovingian Gaul contain prayers pro rege, pro regibus, or in pace. 126 These prayers beseech God to protect the kingdom’s peace, to secure its stability, and to grant victory to the ruler, and therefore, are the most eloquent testimonies to the royal patronage of liturgy that emerged during the seventh century. Not only were these prayers an emotional appeal to God for protection of the kingdom and its rulers, they also disseminated a powerful Christian political ideology. For example, the Old Gelasian Sacramentary, which was copied at the mid-eighth century in either Chelles or Jouarre (both closely connected with Queen Balthild’s activities), 127 includes a mass urging God to ‘   let your

123 Vita Eligii, II.8, ed. Krusch, p. 701. 124 Marculf, Formularum libri duo, ed. A. Udholm (Uppsala, 1962), I.6, p. 48. 125 See Vita Columbani, I.28, ed. Levison, p. 218, where one of Columbanus’ Frankish companions suggested that he should pray for the victory of King Theudebert II at the battle of Tolbiac. 126 See, for example, The Bobbio Missal: A Gallican Mass-Book, ed. E.A. Lowe, HBS 58 (London, 1920), cc. 492–6, pp. 151–3; Missale Francorum, ed. L.C. Mohlberg, L. Eizenhöfer and P. Siffrin, Rerum Ecclesiasticarum Documenta. Series maior 2 (Rome, 1957), no. 13, cc. 69–79, pp. 20–1; Liber sacramentorum Romanae aecclesiae ordinis anni circuli (Sacramentarium Gelasianum), ed. L.C. Mohlberg, L. Eizenhöfer and P. Siffrin, Rerum Ecclesiasticarum Documenta. Series maior 4 (Rome, 1960), III.56–62, pp. 213–18. Some of these masses were analysed by McCormick, Eternal Victory, pp. 344–7; Hen, ‘The uses of the Bible’, pp. 286–9; idem, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy, pp. 39–41. 127 On the Old Gelasian Sacramentary, see Hen, Culture and Religion, pp. 44–5, and see there for further references.

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servants N., our kings, adorn the triumph of your virtue skilfully, so that they, who are principes by your command, may always be powerful in their duty’.128 Later on in the same mass, God is asked to give the guidance of his wisdom to the rulers, ‘   so that drinking from your fountain for their assemblies they may please you and may rise above all the kingdoms’.129 Similarly, the prayer infra actionem of the very same mass beseech God to accept the oblation ‘   just as you regarded it worthy to bestow upon him the power of ruling, gracious and generous [as you are] receive [him under your protection]; and implored grant our entreaty, so that confident in the protection of your majesty, he may be blessed with age and kingdom’.130 Finally, the mass concludes with a wish for peace, ‘O God, who prepared the eternal Roman empire by evangelical predicting, present the celestial arms to your servants N., our principes, so that the peace of the churches may not be troubled by the storm of wars’.131 Although the formula rex Dei gratia was not yet used by the Merovingian kings and their advisers, its notion was already embedded in the missa pro regibus of the Old Gelasian Sacramentary. A different mass pro regibus, to give just one more example, was incorporated into the so-called Missale Francorum, which was copied sometime during the first half of the eighth century, most probably in one of the nunneries of the Seine valley (Faremoutier or Rebais).132 The compiler of this small sacramentary picked and mixed eleven prayers, and re-arranged them as a new mass pro regibus.133 Surprisingly, but not unexpectedly, nine out of the eleven formulae of this mass were taken from five different masses pro tempore belli in the Old Gelasian Sacramentary.134 However, a closer look at the content of this mass reveals that it is not an arbitrary collection of unrelated texts, but a composite work of carefully selected prayers. Like the Old Gelasian mass pro regibus, the one in the Missale Francorum beseech God to grant victory to the king, to crush his enemies, and to defend him and his kingdom, so that the Franks will live in peace and tranquillity. It is true that the compiler

128 129 130 131 132

Sacramentarium Gelasianum, III.62.1505, ed. Mohlberg et al., p. 217. Sacramentarium Gelasianum, III.62.1506, ed. Mohlberg et al., p. 218. Sacramentarium Gelasianum, III.62.1508, ed. Mohlberg et al., p. 218. Sacramentarium Gelasianum, III.62.1509, ed. Mohlberg et al., p. 218. On the Missale Francorum, see Hen, Culture and Religion, p. 49, and see there for further references. 133 Missale Francorum, no. 13, cc. 69–79, ed. Mohlberg et al., pp. 20–1. 134 See the collation table in Missale Francorum, ed. Mohlberg et al., pp. 48–9.

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of the mass chose to stress the war-like aspects of kingship.135 Yet, this emphasis was deeply imbued with Christian ideology.136 Prayers for the king, as well as those for time of war and peace, express a genuine concern for the general well-being of the kingdom. They also transmit a clear and well-developed Christian perception of rulership. The idea for such liturgical services was, no doubt, an inheritance of late antique and Byzantine traditions.137 Yet, the Merovingians harnessed them and anchored them into a complex network of patronage, endowments and liturgical practice. It seems, therefore, that the later Merovingians and their advisers also used the patronage of liturgy as a political machinery of royal propaganda. Through the prayers on behalf of the king and the kingdom the Frankish kings disseminated political messages of consensus, solidarity, peace and victory to their subjects, and through these prayers the king made his presence felt throughout the kingdom. Moreover, the prayers for the king and the kingdom in times of crisis involved each and every subject personally in the welfare of the ruler and of the kingdom as a whole. Hence, these prayers helped to sustain ‘Frankish unity’ by creating what Janet Nelson would term ‘Frankish self-identification’.138 In other words, the Merovingian prayers pro regibus reflect Merovingian realities of consensus politics, and ideas

135 McCormick, Eternal Victory, pp. 344–6; Hen, ‘The uses of the Bible’, pp. 286–9. 136 A similar message is also delivered by the missa pro principe of the Bobbio Missal and by a palimpsest liturgical fragment from Reichenau, where the liturgical image of the king was closely linked with the biblical past. On the missa pro principe of the Bobbio Missal, see M. Garrison, ‘The missa pro principe of the Bobbio Missal’, in The Bobbio Missal: Liturgy and Religious Culture in Merovingian Gaul, ed. Y. Hen and R. Meens (Cambridge, 2004), pp. 187–205. For the text of the mass in the so-called Irish Palimpsest Sacramentary, see A. Dold and A. Baumstark, Das Palimpsestsakramentar im Codex Augiensis CXII. Ein Messbuch ältester Struktur aus dem Alpengebiet, Texte und Arbeiten 12 (Beuron, 1925), pp. 36–7. 137 See, for example, McCormick, Eternal Victory, esp. pp. 238–52. See also P. Bernard, ‘La “liturgie de la victoire”. Mise en scène du pouvoir, ordo missae et psalmodie responsoriale dans l’Antiquité tardive et le haut Moyen Age. Réflexions à partir de l’Expositio du Pseudo-Germain de Paris’, Ecclesia orans 13 (1996), pp. 349–406. 138 See J.L. Nelson, ‘The Lord’s anointed and the people’s choice: Carolingian royal ritual’, in Rituals of Royalty: Power and Ceremonials in Traditional Societies, ed. D. Cannadine and S. Price (Cambridge, 1987), pp. 137–80, at pp. 147–9. See also M. Garrison, ‘The Franks as the new Israel? Education for an identity from Pippin to Charlemagne’, in The Uses of the Past, ed. Hen and Innes, pp. 114–61, at pp. 140–6.

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of peace and solidarity within the kingdom that were to become the prevailing characteristics of the Carolingian political ideology under Pippin III, Charlemagne, and their successors.139 But as they did in so many matters, the Carolingians operated on a much more grandiose scale, organising extravagant coronations, large scale liturgical processions in times of crisis, lavish acts of patronage, and, of course, the laudes regiae.140 The Carolingians, it appears, turned the well-established Merovingian traditions of ‘flirting’ with liturgy, into an ostentatious ‘act of love’. ∗

∗

∗

The reigns of Chlothar II and Dagobert I were indeed a significant age of cultural transformation. Both kings were active patrons of culture, and under their rule Merovingian Gaul witnessed an immense growth of literary production. This productivity was largely the result of the unique alliance between the royal court, the local elites, and the monastic movement set off by Columbanus. It was part of a delicate system of control and balances that was formed in late sixth- and early seventh-century Francia, and which involved both secular magnates and ecclesiastics. When compared with the two sixth-century courts discussed in the previous chapters, the most significant transformation of early seventhcentury Francia is the steady passage of activity into the ecclesiastical orbit. Little by little, the royal court lost it centrality in the cultural life of the kingdom, and gave way to the monasteries and cathedral churches all over Francia. This was much more than simple geographical relocation. The move into ecclesiastical institutions also left very little ‘secular’ culture in place, and the vast majority of works that were produced in seventh-century Francia were, in one way or another, related to religious themes and Christian preoccupations. 139 See, for example, J.L. Nelson, ‘Kingship, law and liturgy in the political thought of Hincmar of Rheims’, English Historical Review 92 (1977), 241–79 [reprinted in eadem, Politics and Ritual, pp. 133–71]; eadem, ‘Legislation and consensus in the reign of Charles the Bald’, in Ideal and Reality. Studies in Frankish and Anglo-Saxon Society Presented to J.M. Wallace-Hadrill, ed. P. Wormald (Oxford, 1983), pp. 202–27 [reprinted in eadem, Politics and Ritual, pp. 91–116]; K.F. Morrison, The Mimetic Tradition of Reform in the West (Princeton, 1982), pp. 136–61; idem, “‘Unum ex multis”: Hincmar of Rheims’ medical and aesthetic rationales of unification’, in Nascita dell’Europa ed Europa Carolingia: un’equazione de verificale, Settimane 27 (Spoleto, 1981), pp. 583–712. 140 On all these, see Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy, 42–130 and see there for further references.

5 Music of the Heart: The Unusual Case of King Sisebut

Of all the Barbarian kingdoms of the post-Roman world the Visigothic kingdom is perhaps the most intriguing. In many respects it was a remarkable precursor to many important ideological and political developments that took place in Italy and Francia during the eighth and the ninth centuries, such as the notion of rex Dei gratia, elaborate coronation rituals in biblical style, or the attempt to create consensus and political unity through religious coercion. During its almost three hundred years of existence, from its beginning in the second decade of the fifth century till its abrupt end in 711, the Visigothic kingdom had witnessed some major geo-political, social and religious transformations. One does not have to be an expert in Gothic history to notice that the post-Roman Visigothic kingdom of southern Gaul, with its capital in Toulouse,1 was significantly different from the Iberian kingdom of Leovigild (569–586) or Roderic (710–711), who ruled from Toledo.2 Whereas the former was a semi-independent Barbarian 1 On the Visigothic kingdom of Toulouse, see Wolfram, History of the Goths, pp. 172–246; idem, The Roman Empire and Its Germanic Peoples, pp. 145–58; Heather, The Goths, pp. 181–215; M. Rouche, L’Aquitaine des Wisigoths aux Arabes, 418–781: naissance d’une region (Paris, 1979), pp. 19–50; R.W. Mathisen and H.S. Sivan, ‘Forging a new identity: the kingdom of Toulouse and the frontiers of Visigothic Aquitania (418–507)’, in The Visigoths, ed. A. Ferreiro, The Medieval Medditeranean 20 (Leiden, Bostorn and Cologne, 1999), pp. 1–62; and see also the various papers in E.A. Thompson, Romans and Barbarians. The Decline of the Western Empire (Madison, 1982), and in Fifth-Century Gaul, ed. Drinkwater and Elton. 2 On the Visigothic kingdom of Spain, the starting point is E.A. Thompson, The Goths in Spain (Oxford, 1969). See also J. Orlandis, Historia de España: La España Visigótica (Madrid, 1977); R. Collins, Early Medieval Spain: Unity in Diversity, 400–1000, 2nd edn (London, 1995); idem, Visigothic Spain (Oxford, 2004); 124

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Nîmes

Toulouse Narbonne Lugo León

Vitoria

Pamplona

R.

GALLAECIA

R.Du

Braga

Eb ro

ero

Zaragoza

TARRACONENSIS Reccopolis Salamanca LUSITANIA R.Tagus

Barcelona Tarragona

Toledo Valencia

Mérida R.Guadiana BAETICA Itálica

Córdoba lquivir uada R.G

CA RT H

AG INE NS IS

Cartagena

Seville Málaga 300 km

Map 6 Visigothic Spain

kingdom that was ruled by an Arian Visigothic military elite, the latter was a Catholic kingdom, ruled by an assimilated Visigothic nobility that relied heavily on co-operation with the local Hispano-Roman aristocracy and the Catholic Church. These significant and rather gradual transformations were punctuated by two major events – the Frankish victory at the battle of Vouillé (507), which ended the Visigothic domination in southern Gaul and forced the Visigoths to re-arrange their kingdom south of the Pyrenees,3 and King Reccared’s (586–601) conversion to Catholic Christianity, announced in 589 at the third council of Toledo.4 A. Barbero and M.I. Loring, ‘The formation of the Sueve and Visigothic kingdoms in Spain’ and ‘The Catholic Visigothic kingdom’, in NCMH I, pp. 162–92 and 346–70. 3 On the battle of Vouillé, see Wood, The Merovingian Kingdoms, pp. 46–8; Wolfram, History of the Goths, pp. 192–3 and 243–5; Mathisen and Sivan, ‘Forging a new identity’, pp. 60–2. 4 On Reccared’s conversion and the third council of Toledo, see Thompson, The Goths in Spain, pp. 92–113; Collins, Early Medieval Spain, pp. 53–7; idem, Visigothic Spain, pp. 64–9; R.L. Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom, 589–633 (Ann Arbor, 2000), pp. 26–88 and passim.

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These events were both an outcome and a catalyst in a long process that shaped the Visigothic kingdom throughout the fifth, sixth and seventh century. In 711, a dramatic and, to a certain extent, unexpected invasion of Muslim forces from North Africa put an end to the Visigothic rule over Spain and announced a new era in the history of the Iberian Peninsula.5 Throughout its existence, and long thereafter, the Visigothic kingdom received a bad press. The reasons for this are complex. No doubt, the traditional Roman feelings of superiority vis-à-vis the Barbarians as well as the Goths’ Arian Christianity fuelled medieval, renaissance and early modern comments. Yet, it was also the absence of any comprehensive alternative historical narrative that turned Visigothic Spain into an easy target to slander. Visigothic Spain did not produce an historian, such as Procopius, Jordanes, Gregory of Tours or Bede, to tell the story of the Visigothic kingdom from a ‘triumphant’ point of view. Hence scholars had to rely on bits and piece of information, some of which are difficult to interpret, others inconsistent and extremely elusive. This created a fertile ground for speculation, misrepresentation and all sorts of biases. For example, by the end of the sixth century Gregory of Tours wrote that ‘the Goths had adopted the reprehensible habit of killing out of hand any king who displeased them and replacing him on the throne by someone whom they preferred’.6 Needless to say, the Visigoths did not murder their kings more often than Gregory’s own Merovingian kings did. Nevertheless, Gregory’s strong anti-Arian feelings and his general lack of sympathy for the Visigoths made his views of Visigothic internal politics extremely negative.7 These views, in turn, had an immense influence on the ways some scholars understood the issue of royal succession in Visigothic Spain.8 Likewise, the Muslim conquest of Spain was perceived as God’s punishment for the Goths’ loose sexual morals. In his famous

5 On the Arab conquest of Spain, see Collins, Early Medieval Spain, pp. 144–80; idem, The Arab Conquest of Spain, 710–797 (Oxford, 1989); H. Kennedy, Muslim Spain and Portugal: A Political History of al-Andalus (London and New York, 1996), pp. 3–18. 6 Gregory of Tours, Libri historiarum, III.30, ed. Krusch and Levison, p. 126 [trans. Thorpe, Gregory of Tours, p. 187]. 7 On Gregory’s attitude to Arianism, see Wood, Gregory of Tours, pp. 34–5; J. Moorhead, ‘Gregory of Tours on the Arian kingdoms’, Studi medievali 36 (1995), pp. 903–15. 8 See J. Orlandis, El poder real y la sucesion al trono en la monarqia visigoda (Rome, 1962).

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admonitory letter to King Æthelbald of Mercia (d. 757) written in 747, less than half a century after the event, the missionary Boniface (d. 754) denounced the Anglo-Saxon king’s lifestyle, writing that: So it has been with the people of Spain and Provence. They turned thus away from God and lived in harlotry until the Almighty Judge let the penalties for such crimes [i.e. scorning lawful marriages and living in wanton adultery] fall upon them through ignorance of the law of God and the coming of the Saracens. 9 These and similar comments gradually moulded the notion of Visigothic Spain as an unstable kingdom, degenerate and uncivilised. It was further entrenched by modern sensibilities. The Visigothic anti-Jewish policy was blown out of all proportion in the second half of the twentieth century, and consequently Visigothic Spain was described as the place ‘where the large Jewish population endured persecution more terrible and more sustained than anywhere else at any time, except our own’. 10 Similarly, General Franco’s praise of the Visigoths for giving Spain ‘national love of law and order’, made the Visigothic kingdom even more unattractive to modern historians, especially outside Spain.11 A closer look at the sources, however, reveals a completely different and more favourable picture of Visigothic Spain. Although it witnessed 9 Boniface, Epistolae, E p. 73, ed. M. Tangl, MGH Epistolae selectae 1 (Berlin, 1916), p. 151. I cite the translation of E. Merton, The Letters of Saint Boniface (New York, 1940; reprinted with a new introduction and bibliography by T.F.X. Noble, 2000), p. 106. On this letter, see W. Levison, England and the Continent in the Eighth Century (Oxford, 1946), pp. 280–1; T. Reuter, ‘ “Kirchenreform” und “Kirchenpolitik” im Zeitalter Karl Martells: Begriefe und Wirklichkeit’, in Karl Martell in seiner Zeit, ed. J. Jarnut et al., Beihefte der Francia 37 (Sigmaringen, 1994), pp. 35–59, at pp. 51–8; L.E. von Padberg, Bonifatius: Missionar und Reformer (Munich, 2003), pp. 90–3. 10 J.M. Wallace-Hadrill, ‘Early medieval history’, in idem, Early Medieval History (Oxford, 1975), pp. 1–18, at p. 6. The debate over the nature of the Visigothic anti-Jewish policy is far beyond the scope of this study. For some varying views, see S. Katz, The Jews in the Visigothic and Frankish Kingdoms of Spain and Gaul (Cambridge, 1937); P.D. King, Law and Society in Visigothic Spain (Cambridge, 1972), 130–45; B. Bachrach, ‘A reassessment of Visigothic Jewish policy, 589–711’, American Historical Review 78 (1973), pp. 11–34; Collins, Early Medieval Spain, pp. 128–43; B. Saitta, L’Antisemitismo nella Spagna Visigotica, Studia Historica 130 (Rome, 1995); R. González-Salinero, ‘Catholic anti-Judaism in Visigothic Spain’, in The Visigoths, ed. Ferreiro, pp. 123–50. 11 See Collins, Visigothic Spain, pp. 1–6.

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some vicissitudes (like any other kingdom), Visigothic Spain was remarkably stable. True, not all Visigothic kings met a natural death, nor were they all brilliant, but some very strong and competent kings managed to compensate for the lack of talents in others.12 A wellestablished legal tradition stood at the heart of the Visigothic political ideology and perception of kingship, and it manifested itself in the production and subsequent revisions of law codes, as well as in the canons of numerous Church councils.13 An elaborate and vibrant network of foreign relations with the sister kingdom of Ostrogothic Italy, as well as with the Vandals in North Africa, the Franks north of the Pyrenees, and even Byzantium, turned the Visigothic kingdom into an important actor on the international stage.14 Moreover, Visigothic Spain also produced one of the most intellectual scholars of the period – Isidore of Seville (d. 636) – who, in many respects, shaped the cultural history of the medieval West for generations to come.15 It is precisely on Isidore of Seville and his relations with the Visigothic court of King Sisebut (611/22–621) that I wish to concentrate in this chapter.

King Sisebut, vir sapiens et    pietate plenissimus After the long and successful rule of Leovigild (569–586) and his son Reccared I (586–601),16 the Visigothic kingdom underwent a short succession crisis. Reccared I’s son, King Liuva II (601–603), was deposed in a coup led by Count Witteric, who succeeded him as king of Sapin (603–610). Witteric, in turn, was deposed by members of the Visigothic

12 On Visigothic kingship, see King, Law and Society in Visigothic Spain, pp. 23–51; Reydellet, La royauté dans la literature latine, pp. 505–97; J. Orlandis, La vida en España en tiempo de los Godos (Madrid, 1991), pp. 84–100; Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, passim. 13 On the legal tradition, see King, Law and Society in Visigothic Spain. On the church councils, see J. Orlandis and D. Ramos-Lisson, Die Synoden auf der Iberischen Halbinsel bis zum Einbruch des Islam (Paderborn, 1981); A. Suntrup, Studien zur politischen Theologie in frühmittelalterlichen Okzident. Die Aussage konziliarer Texte des gallischen und iberischen Raumes, Spanishe Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft 36 (Münster, 2001), pp. 189–412. 14 See, for example, Gillett, Envoys and Political Communication, passim. 15 See below for a fuller discussion of Isidore of Seville and his contribution to medieval culture. 16 On the reign of Leovigild and Reccared, see Thompson, The Goths in Spain, pp. 57–113; Collins, Early Medieval Spain, pp. 41–57; idem, Visigothic Spain, pp. 50–73, and see there for further bibliography.

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aristocracy, and was succeeded by Gundemar (610–611/12), who most probably was personally involved in that coup.17 Isidore of Seville, our main source on these events, describes this period with great dismay.18 The continuous conflicts with the Byzantine forces in the peninsula, as well as the brutal faction fighting among the Visigothic nobility, were a glaring reversal after the glorious reigns of Leovigild and Reccared. But, it was also a noteworthy prelude to the rule of Sisebut. In 611/12 King Gundemar ‘died a natural death in Toledo’, and ‘Sisebut was called to the royal dignity’.19 We know nothing about Sisebut before he became king of the Visigoths, but it is not too far fetched to assume that he was a well-connected nobleman, who rose to power through a successful military career in service of the Visigothic king.20 His reign was rightly perceived as a glorious period in Visigothic history, and together with the reign of Suinthila (621–31) and Riccimir (626–31), it formed the grand finale of Isidore of Seville’s revised Historia Gothorum (‘History of the Goths’): In the era of 650 (612), in the second year of the emperor Heraclius, Sisebut was called to the royal dignity after Gundemar, and ruled for eight years and six months. At the beginning of his reign he forced the Jews into the Christian faith, indeed acting with zeal, ‘but not according to knowledge’, for he compelled by force those who should have been called to the faith through reason. But, as it is written, ‘whether through chance or truth, Christ is to be proclaimed’. Sisebut was nonetheless eloquent in speech, informed in his opinions, and imbued with some knowledge of letters. He was famous for his military example and victories. Dispatching an army, he brought the rebellious Asturians under his domination. Through his generals, he overcame the Ruccones, who were protected by steep mountains on all sides. In person, he had the good fortune to 17 On these kings, see Thompson, The Goths in Spain, pp. 155–61; Collins, Visigothic Spain, pp. 73–5,and see there for further bibliography. 18 See Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, Vandalorum et Sueborum, cc. 57–9, ed. and trans. C. Rogríguez Alonso, Las historias de los Godos, Vandalos y Suevos de Isidoro de Sevilla (León, 1975), pp. 268–71. 19 Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, ed. and trans. Rodríguez Alonzo, cc. 59–60, pp. 270–1. I cite the English translation from K.B. Wolf, Conquerors and Chronicles of Early Medieval Spain (Liverpool, 1990), p. 106. 20 On Sisebut’s reign, see Thompson, pp. 161–8; Orlandis, Historia de España, pp. 135–42; Collins, Early Mdieval Spain, pp. 66–8; idem, Visigothic Spain, pp. 75–6. See also J. Orlandis, Semblanzas visigodas (Madrid, 1992), pp. 105–27.

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triumph twice over the Romans and to subject certain of their cities to himself in battle. He was so merciful in the wake of victory that he ransomed many of the enemy who had been reduced to slavery as booty by his army, and he used his treasure for the redemption of captives. Some claim that he died a natural death, others, that he died as a result of an overdose of some medication. He left a small son, Reccared, who was regarded as the king for a few days after the death of his father until his own death intervened.21 But it was not only Isidore of Seville, Sisebut’s fellow-countryman and good friend, who thought so well of him. Sisebut’s fame reached far and wide, as the praises sung by Fredegar clearly testify: He [i.e Witteric] was succeeded as king of Spain by Sisebut, a wise and most pious man, much admired throughout Spain. He had fought bravely against the Roman Empire and had won Cantabria, previously held by the Franks, for the Gothic kingdom.    Sisebut captured several of the imperial cities along the seaboard and razed them to the ground. The slaughter of the Romans by his men caused the pious Sisebut to exclaim: ‘Woe is me, that my reign should witness so great a shedding of human blood!’ He saved all whom he could from death. Gothic rule in Spain was established from the sea to the Pyrenees.22 Sisebut, so it seems, was perceived by his contemporaries as a praiseworthy king, whose success was judged against his achievements in three different fields – war, religion and culture. Sisebut’s success in the battlefield cannot be underestimated. Two important military victories won by Sisebut against the Byzantine forces in Spain, paved the way for the final expulsion of the Byzantines from the peninsula in 624. He suppressed a rebellion in the north and defeated the Ruccones, and it may well be that he also captured some parts of Cantabria held by the Franks. 23 Isidore of Seville tells us that Sisebut

21 Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, cc. 60–1, ed. and trans. Rodríguez Alonso, pp. 270–4 [trans. Wolf, Conquerors and Chronicles, pp. 106–7]. I shall discuss the revision of the Historia Gothorum more fully later in this chapter. 22 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.33, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 21–2. Fredegar omits Gundemar from his account. 23 See Collins, Visigothic Spain, p. 75.

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built the first Visigothic fleet, 24 and he appears to have been a rather successful diplomat, at least as far as his relations with the Merovingian king Chlothar II are concerned. He clearly took the Frankish king’s side when writing the Vita Desiderii, as we shall see later. Like many of the barbarian kings of the post-Roman world, Sisebut’s Christian piety was part and parcel of his political ideology and his sense of royal duty. But, this ‘most clement’ (clementissimus) king, as Fredegar calls him, 25 was not merely satisfied with giving alms to the poor and building churches. 26 His piety was much more extravagant and aggressive. Both Fredegar and Isidore of Seville found it necessary to note the king’s unease with the outcome of his successful military campaigns. Whereas Isidore notes how he ransomed numerous captives, hence stressing the king’s ‘mercy’ (clementia), 27 Fredegard relates how he moaned at the slaughter of Byzantine soldiers by his forces: ‘Woe is me, that my reign should witness so great a shedding of human blood!’ 28 According to Isidore and Fredegar, Sisebut was torn between his vocation as an effective ruler, and his Christian belief, and this conflict tormented his soul. In a letter to the patricius Caesarius, the governor of the Byzantine enclave centred on Cartagena, the Visigothic king raised the very same dilemma.29 It therefore appears that both Isidore and Fredegar were echoing the royal propaganda of self-promotion originating in Sisebut’s court. Sisebut’s exalted piety, however, was not merely a propagandistic invention. His religious sensibility is attested not only by Isidore and Fredegar, but also in several of his own letters. For example, a letter

24 Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, c. 70 (recapitualtio), ed. and trans. Rodríguez Alonso, p. 286. 25 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.73, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 61. 26 See, for example, the church in honour of Saint Leocadia, built by Sisebut in Toledo, where four Church councils were held; Isidore of Seville, Chronica, c. 416a, ed. T. Mommsen, MGH AA XI (Berlin, 1894), p. 480. This information, given by the so-called Epitome Ovetensis, was not incorporated into the new edition of Isidore’s Chronica by J.C. Martín, CCSL 112 (Turnhout, 2003). On the Epitome Oventensis (anno 883), see Mommsen’s introduction, pp. 370–5. 27 Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, c. 61 (recapitualtio), ed. and trans. Rodríguez Alonso, pp. 272–4. 28 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.33, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 21–2. 29 See Epistulae Wisigothicae, Ep. 3, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 8–11.

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addressed to his son Theudila, in which Sisebut congratulates him on becoming a monk, is, in fact, a short sermon on the cardinal vices and virtues.30 In another letter Sisebut urges the young Lombard king Adaloald (616–626) to convert from Arianism to Catholicism.31 This tactless letter, which reads more like a blunt anti-Arian attack, presents Arianism as the source of all humanity’s misfortunes, and exposes the Visigothic king’s conviction that it is his duty as a Christian king to promote Catholicism among his subjects by eliminating all forms of doctrinal diversity.32 It is also against this background that Sisebut’s anti-Jewish policy is to be understood. It is impossible to discern clearly the nature and scope of Sisebut’s antiJewish policy. Isidore of Seville mentions the forced conversion of Jews, but none of the laws that promulgated this policy has survived; nor do we have any report on the ways in which these laws were implemented.33 The two surviving pieces of anti-Jewish legislation issued by Sisebut deal with the minor issue of Christian slaves owned by Jews,34 and therefore cannot be taken as an evidence for the reality of forced conversion, or for the persecution of Jews in Sisebut’s kingdom. Nevertheless, these laws unveil the king’s deep piety and the rationale behind his extravagant and sometimes fierce actions. ‘We are seeking’, he wrote at the beginning of one of his laws, ‘after healing remedies for all the peoples living in the provinces of our kingdom as well as for us and our nation when we snatch away from the hands of the unbelievers those joined to our faith’.35 And he concludes the very same law, with a no less resolute statement:

30 31 32 33

See Epistulae Wisigothicae, Ep. 7, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 15–19. See Epistulae Wisigothicae, Ep. 8, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 19–27. On this letter, see Stocking, Bishops, Councils and Consensus, pp. 124–5. For some varying views, see Katz, The Jews in the Visigothic and Frankish Kingdoms, pp. 11–12; Thompson, The Goths in Spain, pp. 166–7; King, Law and Society in Visigothic Spain, pp. 130–45; Bachrach, ‘A reassessment of Visigothic Jewish policy’, pp. 18–19; A.M. Rabello, ‘Sisebuto re di Spagna (612–621) ed il battesimo forzato’, Rassegna Mensile di Israel 51 (1985), pp. 33–41; Collins, Early Medieval Spain, pp. 130–7; Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, pp. 125–6. See also, M. Drews, The Unknown Neighbour: The Jews in the Thought of Isidore of Seville, The Medieval Mediterranean 59 (Leiden and Boston, 2006), pp. 16–32. 34 See Leges Visigothorum, XII.2.13–14, ed. K. Zeumer, MGH LNG 1 (Hannover, 1902), pp. 418–23. Both these laws elaborate on laws issued by Reccared. 35 Leges Visigothorum, XII.2.14, ed. Zeumer, p. 420. I cite the English translation by A. Linder, The Jews in the Legal Sources of the Early Middle Ages (Detroit and Jerusalem, 1997), p. 273.

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We decree that this law, which we have promulgated out of our love of piety and religion for the salvation of ourselves and of our people, shall retain its validity forever, with the help of God, who had inspired it. Christ’s triumphant right hand shall make victorious our successors who would observe the regulation of this law, and the Divine Clemency shall strengthen in truth the throne of the king whose faith in this matter it shall observe.    When the terrible time of the future judgement shall open and the fearful coming of the Lord unfold, he [i.e. anyone who would not observe this law] shall be separated from Christ’s manifest flock and burn with the Hebrews on the left in cruel flames with the Devil, and such an eternal and vengeful punishment shall consume the transgressors, while plentiful reward shall descend on the Christians who shall cherish this law in this life and to eternity.36 This is an elegant manifesto of Sisebut’s political ideology, according to which a Christian king should take care of his subjects and promote and strengthen the Christian belief among them.37 This perception of Christian kingship also gave Sisebut an excuse to intervene in Church affairs and to exercise tight control over the Visigothic clergy. For example, in a letter to Eusebius, bishop of Tarragona, the Visigothic king expressed his disappointment with the bishop’s conduct in strong, even offensive, language.38 Apparently, Eusebius was rather fond of theatrical shows and clowns, which the Visigothic king thought was unsuitable behaviour for a bishop. Sisebut also commanded Eusebius without any qualms to appoint the bearer of his letter to the see of Barcelona. In another letter, Sisebut scolds Bishop Cilicius of Mentesa for expressing his wish to retire into a monastery after being released from captivity at the hands of the Byzantines.39 The poor bishop was immediately summoned to appear before the king and some other bishops in order to discuss the matter.

36 Leges Visigothorum, XII.2.14, ed. Zeumer, pp. 422–3 [trans. Linder, The Jews, p. 275]. 37 On the Visigothic ideology of Christian kingship, see King, Law and Society in Visigothic Spain, pp. 122–58; idem, ‘The barbarian kingdoms’, in The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought, c. 350–1450 , ed. J.H. Burns (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 123–53, esp. pp. 143–4; Reydellet, La royauté dans la literature latine, pp. 505–97; Drews, The Unknown Neighbour, esp. pp. 20–6. 38 See Epistulae Wisigothicae, Ep. 6, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 14–15. 39 See Epistulae Wisigothicae, Ep. 1, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 3–6.

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Sisebut’s views on his duties as a Christian king were determined, even rigid. He did not hesitate to tell his subjects and fellow rulers what he thought, and to act accordingly. Yet, Sisebut’s piety was not a blind devotion; his beliefs and acts were accompanied by a thorough understanding of the Christian faith and its doctrines. After all, Sisebut was the most learned barbarian ruler of the post-Roman world. His contemporaries had no doubt about it. Fredegar called him ‘wise’;40 Isidore of Seville, who was less enthusiastic about the king’s talents, relates that he was ‘eloquent in speech, informed in his opinions, and imbued with some knowledge of letters’; 41 and the anonymous author of the so-called Chronicle of 754 claims that he was ‘a wise man of profound learning’ (vir sapiens et nimium litteratura deditus). 42 Modern historians duly followed suit: John Michael Wallace-Hadrill, for example, wrote that he was ‘probably the most sophisticated of any barbarian king’; 43 Jacques Fontaine called him ‘a friend and protector of learning and compared him to Alfonso X ‘the Wise’ (1252–1284); 44 and Roger Collins compared him to Alfred the Great (871–899). 45 A close look at the sources reveals that Sisbut’s Christian piety and devotion were equally matched by a passionate intellectual curiosity, a multifaceted erudition, and an unusual literary creativity.46 Let us take, for example, Sisebut’s own correspondence. Five letters written by Sisebut and three addressed to him are preserved among

40 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.33, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 21. 41 Isidore of Seville, Historia Gothorum, cc. 60–1, ed. and trans. Rodríguez Alonso, pp. 270–74 [trans. Wolf, Conquerors and Chronicles, pp. 106–7]. 42 Crónica mozárabe de 754, c. 13, ed. and trans. J.E. López Pereira (Zaragoza, 1980), p. 32. I cite the English translation from Wolf, Conquerors and Chronicles, p. 115. 43 J.M. Wallace-Hadrill, The Barbarian West, 400–1000, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1967), p. 124. 44 Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. J. Fontaine, Collection des Études Augustiniennes, série Moyen Âges et Temps Modernes 39 (Paris, 1960), pp. 151–2. 45 Collins, Early Medieval Spain, p. 66. 46 On Sisebut’s education and culture, see Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 258–64; Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. Fontaine, pp. 152–61; Olandis, Semblanzas visigodas, pp. 112–14. See also W. Stach, ‘König Sisebut ein Mäzen des isidorischen Zeitalters’, Die Antike 19 (1943), pp. 63–76. On the level of the education of lay people in Visigothic Spain, see R. Collins, ‘Literacy and the laity in early medieval Spain’, in The uses of Literacy in Early Medieval Europe, ed. McKitterick (1990), pp. 109–33; Drews, The Unknown Neighbour, pp. 114–18.

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other letters from around the same period in a single late eight-century manuscript that was copied in Spain, probably in the region of Toledo. 47 This small group of letters, remains of what seems to have been a more extensive collection, is quite remarkable, not only because of the variety of its contents, but also for its style and tone. Indeed only five letters authored by Sisebut survive in this collection, but each deals with a completely different issue, ranging from a polite diplomatic exchange of letters with the Byzantine governor Caesarius, 48 through pastoral guidance, to a blunt anti-Arian attack, 49 and a reprimand of bishops and interfering appointments to Visigothic Church positions. 50 Moreover, Sisebut’s letters are filled with biblical citations, as well as with direct and nearly direct quotations from Jerome, Sedulius, Dracontius, Avitus of Vienne and Gregory the Great.51 This gallery of authors was by no means a common knowledge among the barbarian kings of the early medieval West, and their use by Sisebut indicated unusual literary taste and broad scholarly interests. Unlike the correspondences of other early medieval rulers, the tone of Sisebut’s letters is personal and straightforward. Whether he is writing to the Byzantine governor, or to his son, Sisebut’s letters are full of emotions and marked by a unique personal touch. When writing to the patricius Caesarius he is respectful and formal; in his letter to Theudila he is the joyful and extremely proud father; his true concern about Arianism is revealed in his impatient letter to Adaloald; and his anger bursts in the letters to Bishop Eusebius and Bishop Cilicius. These are not the formally aloof letters composed by Cassiodorus on behalf of Theoderic the Great or those sent by Ennodius of Pavia to his correspondents.52 The undeniable personal tone in Sisebut’s letters makes it highly probable that he himself composed them, or at least supervised their composition very closely.

47 El Escorial, Real Biblioteca de Monasterio de San Lorenzo, & I.14. On this manuscript, see CLA XI.1635; MW, pp. x-xx. All of Sisebut’s correspondence was edited by J. Gil in MW, pp. 3–29. 48 Epistulae Wisigothicae, Epp. 2–5, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 6–14. 49 Epistulae Wisigothicae, Epp. 7–8, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 15–29. 50 Epistulae Wisigothicae, Epp. 1 and 6, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 13–16 and 14–15. 51 See the detailed apparatus in Gil’s edition of the letters, MW, pp. 3–19. 52 Jacques Fontaine has characterised Sisebut’s correspondence as ‘fort alambiquée’, similar in style to the letters of Ennodius of Pavia; see Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. Fontaine, p. 152. Unfortunately, I could not find this similarity.

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Sisebut, however, left us much more than the five letters mentioned above. His most celebrated work is perhaps the Vita Desiderii,53 which, as Jacques Fontaine has rightly pointed out, is one of the most enigmatic works in Visigothic literature.54 The vita relates the life and death of Bishop Desiderius of Vienne (d. 606/7), who was savagely persecuted at the order of Queen Brunhild, the Visigothic princess who married the Frankish King Sigibert I in 566. Desiderius was born into a GalloRoman senatorial family in the region of Vienne, and received his education in Autun and subsequently in Vienne itself. In 594 Desiderius was nominated to the see of Vienne, but because of his close affiliation with Columbanus and his missionary movement, he found himself embroiled in a bitter dispute with Queen Brunhild. At the Church council that was convened in Chalon in 602, Desiderius was viciously criticised by Bishop Aredius of Lyons, and consequently was defrocked by the council. After four years of exile in Lyons, Desiderius returned to his see in Vienne, but alas, he managed to annoy Queen Brunhild once again. His criticism of King Theuderic II (Brunhild’s grandson) led to his arrest and he was stoned to death by the queen’s men.55 This is a passionate, melodramatic story; but why the Visigothic king composed such a vita in the first place is not at all clear. At the beginning of his Vita Desiderii, Sisebut briefly explains the motivation behind his decision to write this treatise: For the imitation by the present generation, for the edification of men to come, and that holy deeds may be done in future time, I have decided to write the life of the holy martyr Desiderius. Whatever has been brought to our notice by reliable testimony, I have recorded in a bare style rather than in one loaded down with glistening words, begging that the Lord who gave, and not without reason, power to

53 For its edition, see Vita vel passio sancti Desiderii a Sisebuto rege composita, ed. J. Gil, in MW, pp. 53–68. For an English translation, see A.T. Fear, Lives of the Visigothic Fathers, 26 (Liverpool, 1997), pp. 1–14. 54 J. Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii and the Political Function of Visigothic Hagiography’, in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. E. James (Oxford, 1980), pp. 93–129, at p. 93. Fontaine’s brilliant essay is the starting point for any discussion of the Vita Desiderii. 55 See Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, IV.24 and 32, ed. and trans. WallaceHadrill, pp. 15 and 21. We also know that Desiderius was reprimanded by Pope Gregory the Great for teaching grammar; see Gregory the Great, Registrum epistularum, XI.34, ed. D. Norberg, CCSL 140A (Turnhout, 1982), pp. 922–3.

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that man to perform miracles, might come and be present with us and, rousing my mind and tongue from sloth, grant me, unworthy though I am, the ability to tell of the passing of these deeds.56 These opening remarks sound familiar, but they should not be dismissed as a mere topos. The justification Sisebut gives for writing the Vita Desiderii accords extremely well with his extravagant piety, but it does not explain why he decided to demonstrate his piety by choosing a Frankish saint as his protagonist. Piety surely played a central role in his decision to write hagiography, but other reasons must have been involved as well. It has been suggested in the past that Sisebut wrote the Vita Desiderii as a political manifesto against the Franks.57 By telling the dramatic story of the good bishop, who was persecuted by the Frankish kings, Sisebut casts Theuderic II and Brunhild as villains, and thus reminded his audience of the danger posed by a strong Frankish monarchy, now reunited under a sole king – Chlothar II. The choice of the dramatic personae, according to this explanation, was not arbitrary. After all, Theuderic II and his grandmother Brunhild took advantage of the volatile situation in Spain to extort territories in Septimania, and the horrors of this violent infringement were still a living memory among the inhabitants of the region.58 This explanation is, however, not entirely convincing. Not only was Brunhild a Visigothic princess, her grandson ruled only one-third of the Frankish kingdom, and by the time Sisebut wrote his Vita Desiderii, both bêtes noires had already died.59 Hence, suggested Jacques Fontaine, the Vita Desiderii is not to be understood as an anti-Frankish manifesto, but as Sisebut’s signal of good will to the new ruler of Francia. After decades of sour relations with the Frankish kingdom, Sisebut was eager to cease the old enmity between the two kingdoms, and a golden opportunity fell to his hands with the death of Theuderic II and Brunhild in 613. By blackening Brunhild and her grandson, Sisebut

56 Vita Desiderii, c. 1, ed. Gil, p. 53 [trans. Fear, Life of the Visigothic Fathers, p. 1]. 57 See, for example, Thompson, The Goths in Spain, p. 163; J.N. Hillgarth, ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, in La storiographia altomedievale, Settimane 17 (1970), pp. 261–311, at pp. 286–7 [reprinted in idem, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and the Irish (London, 1985), ch. III]. 58 See the correspondence of Count Bulgar, who served on the frontiers with Francia under King Gundemar, in Epistulae Wisigothicae, Epp. 10–12, ed. Gil, MW, pp. 30–7. 59 Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii’, p. 96.

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openly sided with their enemies, and stretched out a peaceful hand to Chlothar II, the new ruler of all of Francia.60 But even this explanation is somewhat wanting. As it was so nicely put by Fontaine, ‘a literary Passion is not a diplomatic memorandum, nor the text of a secret treaty made between two chanceries’.61 Given the fact that other versions of Desiderius’ story were circulated around Gaul,62 how can we be sure that Sisebut’s vita reached the Frankish king at all? And even if we suppose it did reach him, how can we be sure that Chlothar II and his courtiers understood the hidden agenda in the vita as Sisebut meant them to understand it? An alternative explanation sees the Vita Desiderii as Sisebut’s attempt to provide a ‘mirror of princes’. According to this hypothesis, Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii was, in a sense, a commentary on the nature of royal office, particularly in relation to the Church and its representatives. 63 Hence, Brunhild and Theuderic II played the role of the unjust ruler in this drama, whereas Chlothar II, or even Sisebut himself, was moulded in the shape of the just Christian king. But like the other explanations adduced above, this attempt to explain the message of the Vita Desiderii as political ideology, leaves much to be desired. Although none of the explanations given thus far is enough on its own to untangle the enigma of Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii, they cannot be dismissed off-hand. There is no way, and indeed no reason, to favour one explanation over the other. The Vita Desiderii, as pointed out by Jacques Fontaine, is a multi-layered composition, ‘addressed simultaneously, in different languages, to different publics’. 64 It is much more sophisticated than it seems at first glance, and it provides eloquent testimony to the author’s ingenuity. Sisebut himself replies towards the end of his composition to those who may criticise his crude language and grandiloquent style: In this unskilled way I have given, to the best of my ability, an account both of the life and of the death of Christ’s soldier, which, although it may displease the learned through its excessive crudeness,

60 Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii’, pp. 122–5. 61 Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii’, p. 125. 62 See Vitae Desiderii episcopi Vienensis, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM III (Hannover, 1896), pp. 626–9 and 638–48. 63 See, for example, Collins, Early Medieval Spain, p. 67. 64 Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii’, p. 125.

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shall nonetheless, having cast aside verbal pomposity, ennoble the humble and the believer.65 A mere topos? I do not think so, especially if we take into account the rest of the passage: And now we have told of his life, miracles and his most glorious end, it remains to describe the perdition and death of the sinners. When Theuderic, abandoning God or rather having been abandoned by God, rejoiced at the news that the servant of God had died, he was seized by a disease of the bowels, ended his vile life and a friend of death came to possess it for eternity.66 If we had any doubts regarding the king’s aims in writing the Vita Desiderii, this short passage must dismiss them all. Every element in this multi-layered work was carefully chosen in order to reach as wide an audience as possible. Pro-Frankish elements, anti-Frankish sentiments, Christian piety, political ideology – each and every reader of the Vita Desiderii could find something relevant in it. Any attempt to opt for a single explanation would seem like a drastic simplification of a complicated and multifarious treatise, whose author was a devout Christian, a creative intellectual with a politically oriented mind, and a self-promoting author. No early medieval ruler had reached this level of sophistication and creativity. The jewel in the crown of Sisebut’s literary output is, no doubt, his poem on lunar eclipses (commonly known as De eclipsi lunae). 67 This poem, which is a verse epistle in sixty-one hexameters, was sent by the Visigothic king as a ‘thank you’ present to his friend Isidore of Seville, who had dedicated his treatise De natura rerum (‘On the Nature

65 Vita Desiderii, c. 19, ed. Gil, p. 66 [trans. Fear, Life of the Visigothic Fathers, p. 12]. 66 Vita Desiderii, c. 19, ed. Gil, p. 66 [trans. Fear, Life of the Visigothic Fathers, p. 12]. Note that the ‘disease of the bowels’, traditionally points to Arius and Arianism. 67 For an edition of the poem, see Sisebut, Epistula de libro rotarum, ed. and trans. J. Fontaine, in Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. Fontaine, pp. 328–35, and see there pp. 151–61 for Fontaine’s discussion of the poem. See also M.C. Díaz y Díaz, ‘El misterio de un eclipse y otras notas más. Para una historia del Códice Ovetense, Escorial R.II.18’, in Homenaje a Don A. Millares Carlo, 2 vols (Las Palmas, 1975), I, pp. 159–69.

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of Things’) to Sisebut.68 Sisebut’s poem to Isidore exhibits his learning and literary virtuosity at their best. Sisebut opens his poem with a short preface (lines 1–14), which Jacques Fontaine describes as ‘a lyrical potpourri’.69 Indeed, this preface contains a variety of apparently unrelated poetic themes, among them the burdens of his royal duties and the military campaigns he had conducted in Cantabria and against the Basques. After this banter-like opening, Sisebut dedicates a few lines to popular perceptions of eclipses (lines 15–22), before embarking on his task – to give a full scientific explanation of lunar eclipses (lines 23–56). He concludes this poetic tour de force with some short remarks on solar eclipses (lines 57–61). As far as its content is concerned, this poem displays the breadth of Sisebut’s learning, from Lucretius, whose work De rerum natura set the tone for the entire poem, to the Alexandrian tradition of astronomic poetry, on which some of his scientific explanations are based. 70 Similarly, the stylistic qualities of the poem reveal Sisebut as a very competent poet indeed.71 How are we to understand such a literary enterprise? Is it merely a scholarly exercise for the entertainment of his good friend? Or did Sisebut have a hidden agenda in composing this versified treatise on lunar eclipses? According to Vincenzo Recchia, Sisebut’s poem should be understood as a longing for contemplative monastic life, which the Visigothic king had to reject for his royal vocation. 72 This interpretation, however, puts too much emphasis on Sisebut’s references to his military burdens, and it stretches the king’s Christian piety ad absurdum. L.J. van der Lof, on the other hand, understands Sisebut’s poem as part of the Isidorian ideology concerning the creation of ‘a national Spanish culture’. 73 Yet again, there is nothing in the poem that suggests such an interpretation. Jacques

68 See Isidore’s dedication, in Isidore of Seville, De natua rerum, ed. and trans. J. Fontaine, in Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. Fontaine, pp. 166–9. I shall discuss Sisebut’s relations with Isidore more fully later in this chapter. 69 Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. Fontaine, pp. 154–5. 70 See Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. Fontaine, pp. 155–7. 71 See Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, ed. and trans. Fontaine, pp. 157–8. 72 V. Recchia, Sisebut di Toledo, Il ‘Carmen de luna’ (Bari, 1971); idem, ‘Sul Carmen de luna di Sisebuto di Toledo’, Invigilata Lucernis 20 (1998), pp. 201–19 [reprinted in idem, Lettera e profezia nell’esegesi di Gregorio Magno, Quaderni di ‘Invigilata Lucernis’ 20 (Bari, 2003), pp. 137–55]. 73 L.J. van der Lof, ‘Der Mäzen König Sisebutus und sein “De eclipsi lunae” ’, Revue des Etudes Augustiniennes 18 (1972), pp. 145–51.

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Fontaine has opted for the functional-pedagogical explanation, arguing that ‘its rational explanation of eclipses helps to explode mythological superstitions resulting from nature worship, while its vocabulary and meter provide a royal example for the return to the refinements of ancient culture’;74 whereas Stephen McCulskey understands the poem as ‘the interaction and mutual support of three concepts of a single lawful order: the philosophical order of ancient astronomy, the Christian order of Divine law, and the political order of Visigothic political theology, which sought to portray the Visigothic king as God’s Vicar on Earth’.75 But even these learned explanations are not complete, and once again we are left puzzled in front of Sisebut’s multi-layered and extremely complex literary exercise. Thus far we have studied King Sisebut as a man of culture and as a talented author. His achievements in this respect are quite exceptional, unrivalled by any other ruler of the post-Roman world.76 Yet, Sisebut’s learning did not emerge ex nihilo. It was deeply rooted in the political and cultural tradition of Visigothic Spain, and it was part and parcel of the cultural movement commonly known as the ‘Isidorian Renaissance’. Let us, then, look at the background to and the nature of this cultural phenomenon.

Visigothic political ideology and the ‘Isidorian Renaissance’ In 589, long before King Sisebut rose to power, the Visigothic king, magnates, and bishops all convened at Toledo to finalise the Visigoths’ conversion from Arianism to Catholicism. The acts of the council (commonly known as Toledo III) say very little about the mechanics of this transition. It was rather more concerned with the correct definition of faith, and hence reiterated the creed of the councils of Nicaea (325), Constantinople (381) and Chalcedon (451), all of which were recited by

74 Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii’, p. 98. 75 S.C. McCulskey, Astronomies and Cultures in Early Medieval Europe (Cambridge, 1998), p. 124. 76 It is possible that Sisebut also wrote a ninety-verse computistical poem, which had a wide circulation in the Middle Ages, and which was often attributed to Bede. See De ratione temporum, ed. K. Strecker, MGH Poetae IV.2 (Berlin, 1923), pp. 682–6. On this poem, see C. Jones, Bedae Pseudoepigrapha (Ithaca, 1939), pp. 92–3; A. Cordoliani, ‘Contribution à la litterature du comput ecclésiastique au Moyen Age’, Studi Medievali 1 (1960), pp. 107–37, at p. 109; idem, ‘Les manuscrits de comput de l’abbaye du Mont-Saint-Michel’, Sacris Erudiri 17 (1966), pp. 55–65, at p. 58.

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King Reccared and Queen Bado.77 The conversion of the Visigoths from Arianism to Catholicism signalled the beginning of a close collaboration between ecclesiastical and royal authorities, which joined forces in order to develop an increasingly complex vision of centralised Christian governance based on religious and political consensus.78 The bishops who met at Toledo produced an impressive number of canons, which formalised the alliance between the regnum and the sacerdotium that was to be the foundation for the new Catholic kingdom. These were meant to be implemented through the regular and orderly exercise of conciliar authority. Yet, the ideals and practices embedded in the council’s records and decisions reveal a considerable amount of disagreement and ambiguity beneath the rhetoric of harmony, peace and unity. Consensus, so it seems, was rather difficult to achieve and, consequently, successive generations of Visigothic bishops and kings had to re-define the parameters of conciliar jurisdiction and its relationship to secular authority.79 During the years following Toledo III Iberian bishops struggled among themselves, argued with royal officials, and fell out with their communities in attempts to overcome the limitations posed by the diversity of Visigothic society. As Rachel Stocking has clearly pointed out, while ‘Christian leaders debated the means to establish and maintain the consensus needed for effective enforcement, they experiment with various configurations of legislation, education, and coercion. These included secular laws, forced conversion, clerical supervision, cultural renewal, liturgical uniformity, and the development of models and rules for holding councils’. 80 Inevitably, the kingdom’s elites remained divided and the various communities contentious. The various measures taken by the bishops and the Visigothic magnates were inadequate to sustain the ideal Christian consensus envisaged in Toledo III, and it is against this background of continuing conflict that the assembly of Toledo IV (633), summoned by King Sisenand (d. 636) and Isidore of Seville, should be understood. Realising the necessity for Christian

77 See Concilios visigoticos y hispano-romanos, ed. and trans. J. Vives (Barcelona, 1963), pp. 107–45. On this council, see Orlandis and Ramos-Lisson, Die Synoden auf der Iberischen Halbinsel, pp. 95–117. 78 On the Visigothic vision of coercive consensus, see Rachel Stocking’s superb book, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, passim; Drews, The Unknown Neighbour, pp. 28–31. 79 See Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, passim; Suntrup, Studien zur politischen Theologie, esp. pp. 353–412. 80 Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, p. 22.

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consensus, the concord between king and bishops was declared. No doubt, the bishops who convened in Toledo IV believed that Christian consensus was meant to be coercive.81 This vision of coercive consensus was also expressed in the cultural movement that centred on the resurrection and redefinition of lateantique and patristic ideals. This movement, commonly known as the ‘Isidorian Renaissance’ after its most important representative, was understood by contemporaries ‘at one and the same time as an intellectual renaissance, a moral rearmament, a religious revival and as a construction of a new political, royal and national ideology’.82 In actuality, it meant that an outpouring of new compositions and treatises, all of which sought to revive, systematise and disseminate classical and patristic knowledge, swept the Iberian peninsula from the late sixth century onwards, in an attempt to regenerate clerical culture and address the needs of the newly formed political ideology. This intellectual movement that bears Isidore’s name had already started with the work of Bishop Leander of Seville (577/8–600/1) and his generation, and it continued well after Isidore’s death, with the work of scholars such as Braulio of Zaragoza, Eugenius of Toledo (d. 657), Ildefonsus of Toledo (d. 667), Fructuosus of Braga (d. c. 670), and Julian of Toledo (d. 690).83 It was, however, during the time of Isidore of Seville (d. 636), Leander’s younger brother and successor to the see of Seville, that it reached its apogee.

Isidore of Seville and the culture of his time The course and chronology of Isidore’s early life are confused and uncertain. 84 He was born around 560 in Cartagena to a family, which was 81 See Conciliosy visigoticosy y hispano-romanos, ed. and trans. Vives, pp. 186–225. On this council, see Orlandis and Ramos-Lisson, Die Synoden auf der Iberischen Halbinsel, pp. 144–71. 82 Fontaine, ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii, p. 99. 83 On all these scholars, see Patrologia, pp. 94–118. 84 On Isidore’s life and work, the starting point is J. Fontaine’s monumental study Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne wisigothique, 2nd edn, 3 vols (Paris, 1983) [originally published in 1959]. See also idem, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité de la culture hispanique au temps des Wisigoths (Turnhout, 2000); P. Cazier, Isidore de Séville et la naissance de l’Espagne catholique (Paris, 1994); Patrologia, pp. 81–94; M. Díaz y Díaz, ‘Introducción general’, in Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, ed. and trans. J. Oroz Reta and M.-A Marcos Casquero, Biblioteca de autores cristianos 433, 2 vols (Madrid, 1982), I, pp. 1–257. For an annotated bibliographical survey, see

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probably of Byzantine origins; they migrated to Seville sometime in the mid sixth century. It was a devout Catholic family, as the careers of Isidore himself and his siblings clearly testify. His brothers, Leander and Fulgentius, were bishops of Seville and Ecija respectively, and his sister, Florentina, became a nun. After the death of his parents, Isidore was raised and educated by his elder brother, Bishop Leander of Seville. There is no evidence that either Isidore or his brothers were monks, and it may well be that they led a self-imposed ascetic life in their own household, as had been common among many aristocrats in the fourth and fifth centuries.85 In 599 or 600 Leander died, and Isidore succeeded his brother to the see of Seville. From then on our knowledge of his career and activities is much more certain. As the head of the ecclesiastical province of Baetica, Isidore presided in 619 over the second council of Seville, and in 633 over the fourth (‘national’) council of Toledo, which attempted to reorganise the Visigothic Church and to regularise religious life throughout Spain and Septimania.86 The canons of these two councils clearly reflect Isidore’s own vision and his organising abilities. He had close and confident relations with most of the Visigothic kings under whom he served, and from the time of Sisebut until his death in 636 Isidore appears in our sources as one of the Visigothic king’s most intimate advisers on ecclesiastical matters and as the foremost intellectual figure in the whole of Visigothic Spain. Isidore was also an extremely prolific author. Braulio of Zaragoza, Isidore’s most famous student, 87 left a short notice, which lists his master’s writings, and it is worthwhile citing it in full: Isidore, an excellent man, bishop of the Church at Seville, successor to and brother of Bishop Leander, flourished from the time of the J.N. Hillgarth, ‘The position of Isidorian studies: a critical review of literature, 1936–1975’, Studi Medievali 24 (1983), pp. 817–905; idem, ‘Isidorian Studies’, Studi Medievali 31 (1990), pp. 925–73. 85 See M.C. Díaz y Díaz, ‘Eremitical life in Visigothic Spain’, Classical Folia 23 (1969), pp. 209–27 [reprinted in idem, Vie chrétienne et culture dans l’Espagne du VIIe au Xe siècles (Aldershot, 1992), ch. VII]. 86 See Concilios visigoticos y hispano-romanos, ed. and trans. Vives, pp. 163–85 and 186–225 respectivly. On these councils, see Orlandis and Ramos-Lisson, Die Synoden auf der Iberischen Halbinsel, pp. 137–71; Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, pp. 128–32 and 139–73, and see there for further bibliography. 87 On Braulio, see Patrologia, pp. 94–7; S. Aznar Tello, San Braulio y su tiempo (Zaragoza, 1986). See also the older, but still useful, C.H. Lynch, Saint Braulio Bishop of Saragossa (631–51): His Life and Writings (Washington, DC, 1938).

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Emperor Mauritius and King Reccared. Our own time indeed found in him a likeness to the knowledge of antiquity, and in him antiquity reclaimed something for itself. He was a man educated in every kind of expression, so that in the quality of his speech he was suited to both the ignorant audience and the learned. Indeed, he was famous for his incomparable eloquence, eloquence appropriate to the occasion. An intelligent reader can now very easily understand from his diverse undertakings and well-crafted works just how great Isidore’s knowledge was. Accordingly, I have noted down these thoughts about the works that have come to my notice. He published: Two books of ‘Differences’ (Differentiae), in which he used subtle distinctions to differentiate the meaning of terms whose use is confused. One book of ‘Introductions’ (Proemia), in which through brief notes he pointed out what each book of Holy Scripture contains. One book ‘On the Lives and Deaths of the Fathers’ (De ortu et obitu patrum), in which he noted with thoughtful brevity their deeds and worthiness, their deaths and burials. Two books of ‘Offices’ (Officia), for his brother Fulgentius, Bishop of Ecija, in which he set out the origin of the Offices and why each Office is performed in the Church of God, with interpretations of his own pen, but not without the authority of our forefathers. Two books of ‘Synonyms’ (Synonyma), with which, through the intervening exhortation of reason, he encouraged the reader to a consolation of the soul and a hope of receiving forgiveness. One book ‘On the Nature of Things’ (De natura rerum), addressed to King Sisebut, in which he resolved certain obscure matters concerning the elements, relying on his study of both the Doctors of the Church and the philosophers. One book ‘On Numbers’ (De numeris), in which he touched in part on the discipline of mathematics, on account of the numbers which are inserted in Sacred Scripture. One book ‘On the Names of the Law and the Gospels’ (De nominibus legis et evangeliorum), in which he shows what the people who are mentioned signify in a mystical sense. One book ‘On Heresies’ (De haeresibus), in which, following the examples of our forefathers, he gathers diverse topics, being as brief as he can. Three books of ‘Sentences’ (Sententiae), which he ornamented with flowers from the book of ‘Morals’ by Pope Gregory. One book of ‘Chronicles’ (Chronica), from the creation of the world up until his own time, collected with great brevity. Two books ‘Against the Jews’ (Contra Judaeos), at the request of his sister Florentina, a virgin [i.e. a nun] in her way of life, in which he demonstrated everything that the Catholic Church believes based on the evidence of the Law and of the Prophets [i.e. the Hebrew Scriptures].

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One book ‘On Illustrious Men’ (De viris illustribus), to which we are adding this entry. One book of the ‘Monastic Rule’ (Monastica regula), which he tempered most fittingly for use in this country and for the souls of the weak. One book ‘On the Origin of the Goths, and also The Kingdom of the Suevi, and The History of the Vandals’ (De origine Gothorum et regno Suevorum et etiam Vandalorum historia). Two books of ‘Questions’ (Quaestiones), which the reader may recognize as an abundant anthology of ancient treatises. The ‘Etymologies’ (Etymologiae), a codex of enormous size, divided by him into topics, not books. Although he left it unfinished, I divided it into twenty books, since he wrote the work at my request. Whoever thoughtfully and thoroughly reads through this work, which is suited to philosophy in every respect, will not be ignorant of the knowledge of human and divine matters, and deservedly so. Overflowing with eloquence of various arts with regard to nearly every point of them that ought to be known, it collects them in a summarized form. There are also other minor works by this man, and abundantly ornamented writings in the Church of God. After such misfortune in Spain in recent years, God encouraged him, as if he were setting up a prop – to preserve the ancient monuments, I believe, lest we decay into rusticity. To him we may fittingly apply the philosopher’s comment: ‘Your books have brought us back, as if to our home, when we were roving and wandering in our own city like strangers, so that we might sometimes be able to understand who and where we are. You have laid open the lifetime of our country, the description of the ages, the laws of sacred matters and of priests, learning both domestic and public, the names, kinds, functions and causes of settlements, regions, places, and all matters both human and divine.’ [Cicero, Academica posteriora, I.3] The proceedings of the Council at Seville, at which he was present, declare how with a flood of eloquence he pierced through the heresy of the Acephalites with the arrows of divine Scripture and the testimonies of the Church Fathers. In this council he asserted the truth against Gregory, leader of the aforementioned heresy. Isidore died during the reign of the Emperor Heraclius and of the most Christian King Chintila. He was outstanding above everyone with his sound doctrine, and very generous in his works of charity.88 88 Braulio of Zaragoza, Renotatio librorum domini Isidori, ed. J.C. Martín, CCSL 113B (Turnhout, 2006), pp. 199–207. I cite the English translation (with minor changes and variations) from The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville, trans. S.A. Barney, W.J. Lewis, J.A. Beach and O. Berghof (Cambridge, 2006), pp. 7–9. (I am grateful to Cambridge University Press for their kind

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This short bio-bibliographical statement, which Braulio composed shortly after Isidore’s death in 636, celebrates Isidore as an inexhaustible author. His vast literary inheritance ranged from historical compositions and literary biographies, through aids to the study of the Scriptures, theological treatises, and manuals of Christian faith and practice, up to encyclopaedic compositions, the most famous of which is the Etymologiae. Although the chronology of his writings is not at all clear, 89 it seems that most of them were composed only after he was elected to the see of Seville; and one is left to wonder how he found the time to write so much amidst all his duties. Moreover, it may well be that Braulio’s list is not at all exhaustive, and many other compositions, which in the past were attributed to Isidore and whose authenticity is questionable, are also his. The influence of Isidore’s writings and thought on the medieval Church was enormous. His fame reached far beyond the Iberian peninsula, and his works were read throughout the medieval west, and as far as Ireland and Anglo-Saxon England. 90 By the eighth century Isidore’s compositions were found in almost every library on the Continent, and his influence on Carolingian theologians and later thinkers is amply documented. 91 Isidore’s encyclopaedic work, especially the Etymologiae, became the standard reference book on a variety of topics throughout the west shortly after its publication, and it held this status unsurpassed throughout the Middle Ages. 92

89

90

91

92

permission to cite this passage in full.) The Renotatio is appended to Isidore’s De visis illustribus in only one manuscript (León, Archivo cathedralicio, 22), dated to the mid-ninth century. On the Renotatio, see the introduction in Martín’s edition, pp. 15–91; on the manuscript tradition, see there pp. 92–79. On the chronology of Isidore’s writings, see Fontaine’s brief summary in his Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité, pp. 436–7. See also The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville, trans. Barney et al., pp. 7–10. See, for example, J.N. Hillgarth, ‘The East, Visigothic Spain and the Irish’, Studia Patristica 4 (1961), pp. 442–56; idem, ‘Visigothic Spain and early Christian Ireland’, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 62 (1962), pp. 167–94; idem, ‘Ireland and Spain in the seventh century’, Peritia 3 (1984), pp. 1–16 [all three papers were reprinted in idem, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and Ireland, chs VI–VIII]; M. Lapidge, ‘An Isidorian Epitome from Anglo-Saxon England’, Romanobarbarica 10 (1988–9), pp. 443–83 [reprinted in idem, Anglo-Latin Literature, 600–899 (London and Rio Grande, 1996), pp. 183–223]. See B. Bischoff, ‘Die europaïsche Verbreitung der Werke Isidorien von Sevilla’, in Isidoriana: coleción de estudios sobre Isidoro de Sevilla, ed. M.C. Díaz y Díaz (León, 1961), pp. 317–44 [reprinted in idem, Mittelalterliche Studien I (Stuttgart, 1966), pp. 171–94]. See The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville, trans. Barney et al., pp. 24–6.

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This early medieval encyclopaedia is arranged by subject matter and provides etymologies for most of the terms it contains as a key to their meaning. For example, one can cite Isidore’s explanation of ‘Atoms’:

Atoms (atomus) are what the philosophers call certain corporeal particles in the world, that are so tiny that they are not visible to sight, and do not undergo o, ´ that is ‘splitting’, whence they are called oo. They are said to fly through the void of the entire world in unceasing motion and to be carried here and there like the finest dust motes that may be seen pouring in through the window in the sun’s ray. Some pagan philosophers have thought that all trees and plants and fruits have their origins from these particles, and that from them fire and water and the universe were born and exist.93

Not only did Isidore’s Etymologiae summarise the knowledge of his day, it also transmitted to the medieval world much lore of the late classical world, and some of its nonsensical folklore. Without it, we could never have guessed that ‘the rooster’s limbs    are consumed if they are mixed with molten gold’, 94 or that ‘the ibis    purges itself by spurting water into its anus with its beak’.95 Isidore’s erudition and literary proliferation are the most remarkable cultural achievement of Visigothic Spain. Although his syntax and vocabulary are not ‘pure’ according to classical standards, he is, perhaps, the most ‘Latinate’ scholar of the early medieval West.96 Although his knowledge of Greek appears to have been negligible, 97 his acquaintance with some of the major Latin authors of classical Antiquity, such as Cicero, Sallust, Ovid, Virgil, Martial, Lucretius and Quintilian, is

93 Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae sive originum libri XX, XIII.ii.1–2, ed. W.M. Lindsey (Oxford, 1911) [trans. Barney et al., p. 271]. 94 Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, XII.vii.50, ed. Lindsey [trans. Barney et al., p. 267]. 95 Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, XII.vii.33, ed. Lindsey [trans. Barney et al., p. 266]. 96 Fontaine, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique, pp. 27–337; Wright, Late Latin and Early Romance, pp. 82–98; Banniard, Viva voce, pp. 181–251. 97 On the knowledge of Greek in the West at the time of Isidore, see W. Beschin, Greek Letters and the Latin Middle Ages, from Jerome to Nicholas of Cusa, trans. J.C. Frakes (Washington, DC, 1988); and see the various papers in The Sacred Nectar of the Greeks: The Study of Greek in the West in the Early Middle Ages, ed. M. Herrin and S.A. Brown (London, 1988).

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undeniable.98 And yet, the sources he employed were almost always of the fourth, fifth, or even sixth centuries (many of which are now lost) and through them he accessed a vast range of older material. All in all, the breadth of his interests is rather impressive, and his knowledge in a whole rage of topics is admirable. But, Isidore was neither a simple ‘agent of transmission’ of classical knowledge, nor a mere lexicographer. He was keen to salvage and restore much of the old culture that was largely unavailable in Spain before his time, but he also possessed a fair share of originality. This originality reveals itself not only in the choice of topics and sources, but also in the way that the intellectual revival led by him was harnessed to the newly formed Visigothic political ideology. Isidore wrote in order to educate, and he dedicated his works to kings, bishops, clerics and monks who occupied pivotal positions in Visigothic politics. Education and cultural leadership were perceived by him as central elements of royal authority and Christian consensus, and through his writings he sought to transmit a new culture that was, first and foremost, Christian, but also intellectual, moral and historical.99 As pointed out by Rachel Stocking, ‘Isidore and his followers saw a commitment to organized clerical education and supervision as one of the means for establishing and maintaining Christian consensus in their kingdoms. In their view a uniformly disciplined clergy would guard the kingdom-wide uniformity in liturgy and morality that they sought to create through ecclesiastic and secular legislation; religious uniformity would enforce a common consensus on the divine sanctions supporting laws and leaders’.100 Clerical education, according to Isidore, was the key to ensure the creation of a better Christian society whose salvation is assured. Sisebut, as we have already seen, shared Isidore’s vision of Christian polity and coercive consensus, and it should come as no surprise that similar views were echoed in Charlemagne’s reformatory legislation two centuries later.101

King Sisebut’s ‘Isidorian Renaissance’ Isidore of Seville inherited his brother’s close working relationship with the Visigothic monarchy, but it was only during the reign of Sisebut that 98 On the culture of Isidore and his time, see Fontaine, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique, pp. 735–861; idem, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité, passim. 99 On the nature and limits of the ‘Isidorian Renaissance’, see Fontaine, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique, pp. 863–88. 100 Stocking, Bishops, Councils, and Consensus, p. 13. 101 On Charlemagne’s reforms, see the studies cited above, p. 1, note 3.

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the court of Toledo became closely involved in the cultural renewal that swept Visigothic Spain.102 Sisebut, so it seems, embraced the ‘Isidorian Renaissance’ wholeheartedly, and played an active role in it. His political ideology was based on and nurtured by Isidore’s intellectual vision, and by taking a keen interest in scholarship, he paid tribute to the traditional authority of the Church and to its most illustrious contemporary representative. Sisebut, the Visigothic king, who presented himself as an intellectual, an author, and a preacher, became the most distinguished patron of Isidore and his intellectual activity. Suprisingly, but not unexpectedly, this view of Sisebut as the ‘Maecenas’ of Visigothic Spain is based on extremely few direct testimonies. At the beginning of his De natura rerum (‘On the Nature of Things’), which was dedicated to King Sisebut, Isidore himself tells us that he wrote the treatise at the behest of the Visigothic king, whose oratory skill and literary talents he praises.103 Sisebut, on his turn, thanked Isidore for this gesture by composing a verse-epistle on eclipses, as we have already seen.104 Isidore, apparently, also dedicated an earlier version of the Etymologiae (probably only books I-X) to his friend and patron, King Sisebut. A short dedicatory notice, appended to the work in some manuscripts, reads: See, as I promised, I have sent you the work on the Origin of Certain Things, compiled from my recollection of readings from antiquity and annotated in certain places as written by the pen of our ancestors.105 Apparently, the revised (and probably enlarged) version of the Etymologiae took rather longer to complete, and by the time it was finished, Sisebut was already dead. Hence, the final version of the work was dedicated to Braulio of Zaragoza, who, according to his own testimony, divided it into twenty books.106

102 See Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 256–9. On Toledo as the Visigothic capital, see I. Velázquez and G. Ripoll, ‘Toletum, la construcción de una urbs regia’, in Sedes regiae, ed. Ripoll and Gurt, pp. 521–78. 103 Isidore of Seville, Traité de la nature, praefatio, 1, ed. and trans. Fontaine, p. 167. 104 See above, pp. 139–40. 105 Isidore of Seville, Etymologiae, ed. Lindsey, Ep. VI (trans. Barney et al., p. 413). 106 On Braulio’s testimony, see above, pp. 144–7. On the various versions of the Etymologiae, see M.C. Díaz y Díaz, Los Capitolos sobre los metales de las Etimologías de Isidoro de Sevilla (León, 1970); The Etymologies of Isidore of Seville, trans. Barney et al., pp. 17–24.

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Several other works by Isidore were composed during Sisebut’s reign, but as far as we can tell none of them was dedicated to the Visigothic king.107 Yet, one of these works – the Historia Gothorum (‘History of the Goths’) – is of particular interest, because it may shed some light on Isidore’s ties with the Visigothic monarchy. The original version of the Historia Gothorum ended with the death of Sisebut in 621, and was probably completed shortly afterwards. However, in 625 Isidore’s revised his Historia Gothorum by adding Suinthila’s triumph at Cartagena in 624 and, more importantly, by transferring the praise originally bestowed on Sisebut to King Suinthila.108 According to Kenneth Wolf, these alterations and the words of encouragement to Riccimir, Suinthila’s son and designated successor, suggest that the composition and revision of the Historia Gothorum was closely linked with, if not directly sponsored by, the Visigothic monarchy.109 No doubt Sisebut was the kind of monarch who appreciated such a survey of Gothic history, but there is no indication whatsoever that associates him with its composition, nor suggestion that an earlier dedication to Sisebut was suppressed after the overthrow of Reccared II. And yet, the work appears to have been, at least in Isidore’s mind, associated with the Visigothic monarchy of his time, as the short dedication of a later copy of the Historia Gothorum to King Sisenand (631–636) clearly testifies.110 Notwithstanding the fact that there are only a few clear indications to the patronage offered by Sisebut to Isidore, the overall impression that emerges from our sources is that of close collaboration, generous support and mutual respect between the Visigothic monarch of Toledo and the metropolitan of Baetica. *** The ‘Isidorian Renaissance’, as Jacques Fontaine puts it, ‘was the result of an exceptional historical conjecture: the unification of the kingdom, the conversion of the Visigoths, and the birth of a Hispano-Gothic ideology’.111 It is the fruit of the efforts made by two exceptional men,

107 For a full list, see Fontaine, Isidore de Séville. Genèse et originalité, pp. 436–7. 108 On the various versions of the Historia Gothorum, see Hillgarth, ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, pp. 287–302; Rodríguez Alonso, Las historias de los Godos, pp. 26–49. 109 Wolf, Conquerors and Chronicles, p. 14. 110 This dedication appears only in some manuscripts of the revised version; see Rodríguez Alonso, Las historias de los Godos, pp. 26–49. 111 J. Fontaine, ‘Education and learning’, in NCMH I, pp. 735–59, at p. 750.

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King Sisebut and Bishop Isidore of Seville. Together they strove to create centralised Christian governance based on religious and political consensus, and together they supported the conscientious movement of cultural renewal that swept the Iberian peninsula from the late sixth century onwards. It is true that the real craftsman of the intellectual revival in Visigothic Spain was Isidore, bishop of Seville, and the most prolific author of his age. But he could not have brought his intellectual abilities and reforming skills to their full fruition without the support of King Sisebut, whose cultural interests and generous patronage set an example for his successors to imitate. In Sisebut’s days a strong alliance between the Visigothic monarchy and the patronage of culture was formed, and it is thanks to him that the court of Toledo became a centre of cultural activity. Sisebut was, no doubt, a passionate man of letters, but it was also his deep religious feeling and his sense of duty as a Christian king that motivated his actions. In this respect he was unique in the royal scene of the post-Roman world, just as Isidore was unique among the scholars of his time.

6 Postcards from the Edges: A Prelude to the Carolingian Renaissance

The four courts discussed in the previous chapters make it more than obvious that promotion and endowment of learning and culture by the powerful and the rich did not disappear with the transformation of the Roman world, and that throughout the fifth, sixth and seventh centuries the patronage of culture was still perceived as a royal prerogative, if not a royal obligation. This state of affairs continued well into the eighth century. Charlemagne is, perhaps, the most famous eighthcentury ruler to show a true concern for learning and education, but he was certainly not the only one to sponsor scholars, artists and writers. Many contemporary, and near-contemporary, rulers did the same, and the actions of some of them may have inspired the Frankish king’s intellectual curiosity. Let us, then, look briefly at four of the most prominent eighth-century rulers, who had some contacts with Charlemagne and his court.

Charlemagne’s Lombard father-in-law In 756 the Lombard King Aistulf died and Desiderius, the dux of Tuscany, became king of the Lombards.1 He started his reign by winning, with

1 On the Lombard kingdom under Desiderius, see C. Wickham, Early Medieval Itlay: Central Power and Local Society, 400–1000 (London, 1981), pp. 46–7; J. Jarnut, Geschichte der Langobarden (Stuttgart, 1982), pp. 116–24; N. Christie, The Lombards (Oxford, 1995), pp. 105–7; D. Harrison, ‘The Lombards in the early Carolingian epoch’, in Charlemagne and his Heritage: 1200 Years of Civilisation and Science in Europe, ed. P. Butzer, M. Kerner and W. Oberschelp, 2 vols (Turnhout, 1997), I, pp. 125–54; P. Delogu, ‘Lombard and Carolingian Italy’, in NCMH II, pp. 290–319, at pp. 298–303. 153

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papal support, a minor civil uprising led by Ratchis, the former Lombard king who in 749 abdicated, retired to the Beneventan monastery of Montecassino, and left the Lombard throne to his brother Aistulf. Although throughout his reign Desiderius lived under the shadow of a papal-Frankish alliance, he managed to build up his position as king of the Lombards by securing the allegiance of the duchies of Spoleto and Beneventum, by a shrewd foreign-relations policy, and by a clever marriage scheme for his daughters – Adelperga was given in marriage to the Friulian nobleman Arichis, later duke of Beneventum; Liutperga was given in marriage to Tassilo, duke of Bavaria; a third daughter (Gerperga?) was given in marriage to the Frankish king Charlemagne, only to be repudiated and sent back to her father in less than a year; and his elder daughter, Anselperda, was made abbess of San Salvatore in Brescia.2 Like most Lombard kings before him, Desiderius settled in Pavia.3 It was a sumptuous capital, full of outstanding monuments, such as the royal palace, several public bath complexes, and numerous churches, whose building was sponsored by Desidrius’ Lombard predecessors.4 Pavia was also a vibrant centre of cultural activity, and the royal patronage bestowed on learned clergymen, artists and authors, especially during the reigns of Cunipert (679–700), Liutprand (712–744), and Ratchis (744–749), is well documented.5 There is no reason to assume that things were different under Desiderius, although the evidence for such an activity during his reign is rather circumstantial. It has been suggested in the past that Paul the Deacon (d. 799), who spent four years at Charlemagne’s court (between 781–785), was part of the Pavian palace school during Desiderius’ reign, and that he

2 On Desiderius’ daughters, see J.L. Nelson, ‘Making difference in eighthcentury politics: the daughters of Desiderius’, in After Rome’s Fall, ed. Murray, pp. 170–90. 3 On the royal capitals of Lombard Italy, see G.P. Brogiolo, ‘Capitali e residenze regie nell’Italia longobarda’, in Sedes regiae, ed. Ripoll and Gurt, pp. 135–62. 4 On Lombard Pavia, see D.A. Bullough, ‘Urban changes in early medieval Italy: the example of Pavia’, Papers of the British School at Rome 34 (1966), pp. 82–130; P. Hudson, ‘Pavia: l’evoluzione urbanistica di una capitale altomedievale’, in Storia di Pavia, 2 vols (Pavia, 1987), II, pp. 237–315; Borgiolo, ‘Capitale e residenze regie’, pp. 144–51. For a list of churches erected in Lombard Pavia, see Ward-Perkins, From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages, pp. 244–5. 5 See Riché, Education and Culture, pp. 409–13. On the uses of literacy in Lombard Italy, see N. Everett, Literacy in Lombard Italy, c. 568–774 (Cambridge, 2003), and see there for further bibliography.

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even served as the tutor of Adalperga, Desiderius’ daughter.6 There is, however, no evidence to support such a claim, nor is there any indication that Desiderius ever sponsored the intellectual activities of Paul the Deacon. Paul reached Pavia in the 740s, while still an adolescent, and we know that in Pavia he studied grammar with a certain Flavian, whose uncle was a famous grammarian and one of King Ratchis’ protégés.7 There is little place for doubt that Paul the Deacon knew Pavia well, as the various references to it in his writings clearly testify, but whether he was part of a certain ‘palace school’ is not at all clear. As for Adelperga, in 763 Paul the Deacon dedicated to her a poem that bears the acrostic Adelperga pia.8 She was then already married to Arichis, duke of Beneventum, and was mother to a child.9 About a decade later, probably in 773, Paul dedicated to Adelperga another work, the so-called Historia Romana (‘Roman History’), which is a revised and amplified version of Eutropius’ Breviarium.10 At that time, she was already the mother of three. In his dedicatory note, Paul praises the Lombard princess’ and her husband’s love of learning and Christian piety with warm words: Since, in emulating your most excellent husband, who is almost the only ruler (princeps) of our age to hold the palm of wisdom, you also search for the same hidden knowledge through fine ingenuity and acute study, so that the gilded eloquence of the philosophers and the glittering sayings of the poets, as well as [the works] of historians and the commentaries on both divine and mundane matters will be accessible to you, I, the perpetual patron of your refinement, am happy to present you with Eutropius’ History, so that you could read through it eagerly, as is your habit. What displeased you in this text, apart from its unsuitable brevity, was evidently the fact that this 6 H. Belting, ‘Studien zum beneventanischen Hof im 8. Jahrhundert’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 16 (1962), pp. 141–93, at pp. 168–9. 7 Paul the Deacon, Historia Langobardorum, VI.7, ed. and trans. L. Capo, Paolo Diacono: Storia dei Longobardi (Rome, 1992), p. 314. On Paul the deacon’s life and thought, see Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History, pp. 329–431. See also the various papers in Paolo Diacono. Uno scrittore fra tradizione longobarda e rinnovamento carolingio, ed. P. Chiesa, Libri Biblioteche 9 (Udine, 2000). 8 H. Neff, Die Gedichte des Paulus Diaconus: kritische und erklärende Ausgabe, Quellen und Untersuchungen zur lateinischen Philologie des Mittelalters III.4 (Munich, 1908), no. 2, pp. 9–10. 9 On Adalperga, see Nelson, ‘Making a difference’, pp. 176–7. 10 Paul the Deacon, Historia Romana, praefatio, ed. A. Crivellucci, Fonti per la Storia d’Italia (Rome, 1913), pp. 3–4.

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gentile [i.e. pagan] man did not make any reference whatsoever to our divine history and religion. It will please Your Excellency [to know] that I have expanded this History a bit in the appropriate places, and added to the text some [references] from the Holy Scriptures, so that the chronology of this narrative would become clearer.11 If we are to believe Paul the Deacon, and there is no reason why we should not, both Adelperga and Arichis were well educated and extremely learned people. Paul, it appears, dedicated his Historia Romana to the Duchess of Beneventum in appreciation of her learning, but one cannot miss the paternal and pedagogical tone in his dedicatory note. He calls himself ‘the patron of her refinement’, and clearly perceives his job as helping her grasp the ‘gilded eloquence and glittering sayings’ of philosopher, poets, historians and exegetes. These statements, however, must not be taken to imply that Paul the Deacon was indeed her tutor in Desiderius’ court, or her protégée in the Beneventan court of her husband. It may well be that Paul moved to the south with Adalperga and Arichis, who was installed by his father-in-law as duke of Beneventum in 758, the very same year of his marriage to Adelperga. But, there is no evidence to support this conjecture, and as pointed out by Walter Goffart, ‘[a]lthough Paul’s poem of 763 and the Roman History are both addressed to her, the Frioulan Arichis, whom Paul calls wiser than any other prince of his age, may have had more to do than she with mobilizing the pen of his countryman in Monte Cassino and placing it at the service of his culturally ambitious reign’.12 Whatever incentives stood behind the composition and dedication of Paul’s poem and the Historia Romana to Adalperga, there is little place to doubt that as a young princess at her father’s court she received a very good classical as well as Christian education. Yet, the best evidence for the involvement of Desiderius’ court in cultural activity comes from an unexpected direction. In one of his letters to Charlemagne (dated to 799), Alcuin of York (d. 804) recalls what he had heard at the Lombard court in Pavia en route to Rome: When as a young man I went to Rome and spent a few days in the royal city of Pavia, a certain Jew named Iulius had a debate (disputatio) with Master Peter. I have heard that this debate was written down in 11 Paul the Deacon, Historia Romana, ed. Crivellucci, pp. 3–4; also in Neff, Die Gedichte des Paulus Diaconus, no. 3, pp. 12–13. 12 Goffart, The Narrators of Barbarian History, p. 339.

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the same city. This was the same Peter who excelled as a teacher of grammar in your palace.13 This testimony is remarkable. On the one hand it presents the Lombard court as a vibrant intellectual centre, where scholars from all over western Europe gathered and where theological debates, very much like the ones in Thrasamund’s court more than two and a half centuries earlier, took place.14 On the other hand it points at the important role played by Lombard scholars from Desiderius’ court in the formation of Charlemagne’s intellectual court. In fact, the first batch of recruits to Charlemagne’s court came from Lombard Italy, if not from Desiderius’ court itself. One of the first scholars to join the Frankish court was the poet and grammarian Peter of Pisa (d. 799), who, as we have just seen, was an active member of Pavia’s intellectual circle in Desiderius’ time.15 When Peter arrived at the Frankish court, probably not long after Charlemagne’s victory over the Lombards in 774, he was already an old man and famous for his learning, as Alcuin’s testimony suggests. He became Charlemagne’s own grammar teacher,16 and composed poems, several of which survive,17 a grammar book,18 and a question-andanswer commentary on the book of Daniel, which is largely a reworking of Jerome’s commentary.19 Around 796, towards the end of his life, Peter returned to his native homeland and settled in Pisa, where he died a few years later.20

13 Alcuin, Epistulae, Ep. 172, ed. E. Dümmler, MGH Epp. 4 (Berlin, 1895), p. 285. On this letter and its transmission, see D.A. Bullough, ‘Reminiscence and reality: text, translation and testimony of an Alcuin letter’, Journal of Medieval Latin 5 (1995), pp. 174–201. On the name of the Jew (Iulius rather than Lullus), see Bullough’s paper, p. 188; on the meaning of diputatio as ‘a question-and-answer session’, see there pp. 190–91. Bullough (pp. 193–200) identifies the written version of this disputatio with Peter of Pisa’s commentary on the book of Daniel. See also M. Gorman, ‘Peter of Pisa and the Quaestiunculae copied for Charlemagne in Brussels II 2572’, Revue bénédictine 111 (2001), pp. 238–60. 14 On the theological debates in Thrasamund’s court, see above, pp. 88–92. 15 On Peter of Pisa, see the papers by Bullough and Gorman cited above, n. 13; Brunhölzl I.2, pp. 12–14. 16 See Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni, c. 25, ed. Holder-Egger, p. 31. 17 Peter of Pisa, Carmina, ed. E. Dümmler, MGH Poetae 1 (Berlin, 1881), pp. 48–86. 18 Parts of which were edited in Grammatici latini, ed. Kiel, VIII, pp. 161–71 19 See Gorman, ‘Peter of Pisa and the Quaestiunculae’, pp. 251–9. 20 See Gorman, ‘Peter of Pisa and the Quaestiunculae’, p. 239.

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Shortly after his arrival at the court of Charlemagne, Peter was joined by at least two other Lombards – Fardulfus (d. 806), future abbot of Saint-Denis, and Paulinus (d. 802), future archbishop of Aquileia. Fardulfus probably came as a captive in 774, but after proving his loyalty to the Frankish king by exposing the conspiracy of 792, he was presented with the monastery of Saint-Denis.21 Paulinus, it seems, reached the Frankish court soon after the suppression of the Lombard uprising in Friuli in 776.22 By that time Paulinus was already a loyal follower of the Frankish king, and Charlemagne, it appears, rewarded his loyalty with some land,23 and subsequently (in 787) appointed him to the see of Aquileia. Two other Italians, according to Donald Bullough, were also part of Charlemagne’s court – Peter, who became the bishop of Verdun before 781, and another Peter, who in 781 became the bishop of Pisa through Charlemagne’s direct intervention with the Pope.24 Together with Paul the Deacon, who reached the Frankish court in 782, the Lombards were a noteworthy group of scholars in Charlemagne’s inner circle and a fundamental feature of the court’s intellectual activity throughout its formative stage.25 The arrival of the Lombards at the court of Charlemagne is commonly linked with two major events – the Lombard defeat in 774 and the suppression of the Lombard uprising in 776. In 773 Charlemagne, rather reluctantly, invaded Italy at the instigation of Pope Hadrian I (772–794),

21 See Annales regni Francorum, s.a. 792 (rev.), ed. F. Kurze, MGH SRG 6 (Hannover, 1895), pp. 91–3. 22 On Paulinus of Aquileia, see Brunhölzl I.2, pp. 14–20; D. Norberg, L’oeuvre poétique de Paulin d’Aquilée (Stockholm, 1979); D. Schaller, ‘Der Dichter des “Carmen de Conversione Saxonum” ’, Tradition und Wertung: Festschrift für Franz Brunhölzl, ed. G. Bernt (Sigmaringen, 1989), pp. 27–45. See also the various papers in Il Friuli e l’Istria al tempo di San Paulino d’Aquileia, ed. G. Cuscito (Trieste, 2003). 23 Pisa, Archivo arcivescovile, diplomatico 11; ChLA XXVI.816. 24 See D.A. Bullough, ‘I vescovi di Pavia nei secoli ottavo e nono: fonti e cronologia’, in Atti del 4o Congresso internazionale di Studi sull’Alto medioevo (Spoleto, 1969), pp. 317–28; idem, ‘Aula renovata: the Carolingian court before the Aachen palace’, in idem, Carolingian Renewal: Sources and Heritage (Manchester, 1991), pp. 123–60, at p. 131 [an earlier version of this paper was published in Proceedings of the British Academy 71 (1985), pp. 267–301]. 25 See, for example, G. Brown, ‘Introduction: the Carolingian Renaissance’, in Carolingian Culture, ed. McKitterick, pp. 1–51, at pp. 29–30; M. Garrison, ‘The emergence of Carolingian literature and the court of Charlemagne (780–814)’, in Carolingian Culture, ed. McKitterick, pp. 111–140, esp. pp. 117–18.

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and defeated the Lombard army at the edge of the Alps. After a siege of several months he entered Pavia in June 774 and, as the Annales regni Francorum, that is, the supposedly official court-based Frankish history,26 relates, ‘[he] captured the city and Desiderius, with his wife and daughter and the whole treasure of his palace besides’.27 It is tempting to speculate, but impossible to ascertain, whether Charlemagne had brought back with him some of Desiderius’ court scholars on his return from either Pavia or Friuli. We suspect that Fardulfus was indeed a hostage, and we know that Paul the Deacon travelled to Francia in 782 in order to beg for the release of his brother, who had been taken as a captive for his part in the uprising of 776. As for the other Lombards at Charlemagne’s court, it is only the timing of their supposed arrival at Francia that suggests a certain link with the fall of the Lombard kingdom or the failure of the Lombard revolt in 776. Similarly, it is impossible to gauge whether the brief encounter with Desiderius’ court at Pavia had ignited Charlemagne’s intellectual interest that later led to his passionate endeavour to gather at his court the best minds from all over Europe. Whatever attracted so many Lombard scholars to the court of a king, who destroyed their kingdom and threaten to crush their national identity, there is little place to doubt that Peter of Pisa, Fardulfus, Paulinus of Aquileia, Paulus Diaconus and maybe other fellow Lombards who had had in the past some connections with Desiderius’ court, were willing (or in some cases forced) to co-operate with the Frankish king in his attempt to improve and reform the culture in his kingdom, and their contribution to this process cannot be underestimated.

The defiant cousin from Bavaria If the Lombard court of Charlemagne’s father-in law had provided the Frankish king with a certain model of cultural patronage, as well as with some poets and grammarians, another contemporary model was set by the court of Charlemagne’s cousin and brother-in-law, Duke Tassilo III of Bavaria.

26 On the Annales regni Francorum, see McKitterick, History and Memory, passim, and see there for further bibliography. 27 Annales regni Francorum, s.a. 774, ed. Kurze, p. 38. I cite the English translation from B.W. Scholz, Carolingian Chronicles: The Royal Frankish Annals and Nithard’s Histories (Ann Arbor, 1972), p. 50.

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From a fairly early stage the Duchy of Bavaria emerged as a rather autonomous political entity.28 Although part of the Frankish orbit, it was never conquered by the Franks, nor was it brutally subdued by the Merovingian kings. The early Merovingians, so it seems, were secure enough in their position to respect Bavaria’s self-governing aspirations, and consequently Bavaria operated as a semi-independent political unit within the long shadow of the Frankish kings. But, the ‘Merovingian shadow’, one must constantly bear in mind, was much more imposing than it seems at first sight. After all, as the eighthcentury Lex Baiwariorum (‘The Bavarian Law’) clearly states, it was the Merovingians who had installed the Agilolfings (a noble family of probable Frankish origins) as dukes of Bavaria and recognised their position as the sole legitimate Bavarian ruling family.29 The Agilolfings had no choice but to accept the Frankish supremacy and shelter under the protective wings of the Meovingian kings, especially in face of external threats from the south and the east. This rather tolerant status quo began to crack towards the end of the seventh century, when the Agiolfings took advantage of the tumultuous Frankish politics and the unstable position of the Merovingian dynasty to assert a greater degree of independence from the Frankish kings. What they did not realise is that the new players in this political game – the Pippinid majores domus (‘mayors of the palace’) – were far less tolerant than the Merovingian kings. They adopted a more aggressive approach to what they considered to be the Franks’ rightful hegemony 28 On early medieval Bavaria, see J. Jahn, Ducatus Baiwariorum. Das Bairische Herzogtum der Agilolfinger (Stuttgart, 1991); H. Wolfram, 378–907: Grenzen und Räume. Geschichte Österreichs vor seiner Entstehung, Österreichische Geschichte 3 (Vienna, 1995); idem, Salzburg, Bayern, Österreich. Die Conversio Bagoariarum et Carantanorum und die Quellen ihrer Zeit, Mitteilungen des Insitits für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 31 (Munich and Vienna, 1995); M. Hardt, ‘The Bavarians’, in Regna et Gentes, ed. Jarnut et al., pp. 429–61, and see there for further bibliography. 29 Lex Baiwariorum, III.1, ed. E. von Schwind, MGH LNG V.2 (Hannover, 1926), pp. 312–13. On the Agilolfings, see J. Jarnut, Agilolfingerstudien. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte einer adlingen Familie im 6. und 7. Jahrhundert, Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 32 (Stuttgart, 1988). See also idem, ‘Genealogie und politische Bedeutung der agilolfingischen Herzöge’, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 99 (1991), pp. 1–22 [reprinted in Herrschaft und Ethnogenese im Frühmittelalter. Gesammelte Aufzätze von Jörg Jarnut, Festgabe zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. M. Becher (Paderborn, 2002), pp. 139–60]; F. Prinz, ‘Die Agilolfinger: Bayerns erstes Herzogsgeschlecht’, in Die Herrscher Bayerns. 25 historische Porträts von Tassilo III. bis Ludwig III., ed. D. and K. Weigand (Munich, 2001), pp. 13–28.

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over Bavaria, and as a result, from the time of Charles Martel (d. 741) onwards, a series of conflicts and confrontations threatened to end Bavaria’s semi-independent state.30 The tension between the Agilolfings and the rulers of Francia intensified during the reign of Pippin III and Charlemagne, and eventually it was brought to a brutal end in 788 with Duke Tassilo III’s public humiliation and the ‘unjust seizure’ of Bavaria by Charlemagne.31 Throughout its existence as a semi-autonomous political entity, Bavaria, although officially only a duchy, was understood by many contemporaries to be a regnum,32 and its Agilolfing rulers certainly worked hard to create such an impression. They established independent alliances with neighbouring kingdoms and Germanic groups, which at times were in open conflict with the Franks.33 With the help of Anglo-Saxon missionaries, most notably Boniface, and in cooperation with Rome, they strove to reform and reorganise the Bavarian church as a self-sufficient institution, independent of Frankish ecclesiastical authority.34 They issued their own law-code, the so-called Lex Baiwariorum,35 and adopted several regal status symbols, such

30 See, for example, P. Fouracre, The Age of Charles Martel (London and New York, 2000), pp. 99–110. 31 See Jahn, Ducatus Baiwariorum, pp. 522–50; H. Wolfram, ‘Tassilo III. und Karl der Große – Das Ende der Agilolfinger’, in Die Bajwaren. Von Severin bis Tassilo, 488–788, ed. H. Dannheimer and H. Dopsch (Rosenheim and Salzburg, 1988), pp. 160–6; M. Becher, Eid unde Herrschaft. Untersuchungen zum Herrscherethos Karls des Großen, Vorträge und Forschungen 39 (Sigmaringen, 1993), pp. 21–77; S. Airlie, ‘Narratives of triumph and rituals of submission: Charlemagne’s mastering of Bavaria’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 9 (1999), pp. 93–119; W. Brown, Unjust Seizure. Conflict, Interest, and Authority in An Early Medieval Society (Ithaca and London, 2001). 32 Jarnut, Agilolfingerstudien, pp. 91–2 33 Jahn, Ducatus Baiowariorum, pp. 178–85. 34 See J.M. Wallace-Hadrill, The Frankish Church (Oxford, 1983), pp. 153–6; H. Berg, ‘Zur Organisation der bayerischen Kirche und zu den bayerischen Synoden des 8. Jahrhunderts’, in Typen der Ethnogenese unter bezonderer Berücksichtigung der Bayern, ed. H. Wolfram and W. Pohl, 2 vols, Veröffentlichungen der Komission für Frühmittelalterforschung 12–13 (Vienna, 1990), I, pp. 181–97; H. Koller, ‘Die bairische Kirchenorganisation des 8. Jahrhunderts: Ansätze, Konzepte, Verwirklichung’, in Das Christentum im bairischen Raum von den Anf ängen bis ins 11. Jahrhundert, ed. E. Boshof and H. Wolff, Passauer historische Forschungen 8 (Cologne and Vienna, 1994), pp. 273–89; Hardt, ‘The Bavarians’, pp. 448–53. 35 On the the Lex Baiwariorum, see H. Siems, ‘Lex Baiuvariorum’, Handwörterbuch zur deutschen Rechtsgeschichte 2 (1978), pp. 1887–901; W. Hartmann, ‘Das Recht’, in Die Bajuwaren, ed. Dannheimer and Dopsch, pp. 266–72.

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as the anthropomorphic ruler’s staff.36 Moreover, a shrewdly devised matrimonial policy with the dukes of Alamannia, the Merovingian family, the Lombard royal house and the Pippinid/Carolingian majores,37 undoubtedly helped to raise the status of the Agilolfings and to give their dynasty a royal touch. Part and parcel of their attempts to create a royal aura around themselves was an elaborate scheme of cultural patronage. This, of course, was not necessarily a royal trait, but against the background of Bavaria’s separatist aspirations and the Agilolfings’ royal ambitions, such an activity may certainly be interpreted as yet another way to assert Agilolging self-consciousness as equal in status to royalty. Hence, under the Agilulfings, and as a result of their generous sponsorship, Bavaria witnessed a cultural ‘renaissance’. Very much like the case of seventh-century Merovingian Gaul, this cultural revival received a significant boost from Irish and Anglo-Saxon missionaries, who settled in Bavaria, founded monasteries, and turned Bavaria’s ecclesiastical institutions into vibrant cultural centres. Manuscripts were copied in numerous scriptoria throughout the duchy,38 intellectual and literary activity was held in various Bavarian monasteries and cathedral churches,39 and new liturgical books were compiled in an attempt to keep up with various liturgical trends and developments.40 To give just one example, one can list the four splendid manuscripts of Gregory the Great’s homilies on the book of Ezekiel, his Moralia in Job, Jerome’s letters, and various sententiae partum, among them Isidore’s Synonima, which were copied in Freising around 783 by the

36 See Wolfram, ‘Das Fürstentums Tassilos III’, pp. 170–1. 37 See J. Jarnut, ‘Beiträge zu den fränkische-bayerisch-langobardischen Beziehungen im 7. und 8. Jahrhundert (656–728)’, Zeitschrift für bayerische Landesgeschichte 39 (1976), pp. 331–52 [reprited in idem, Herrschaft und ethnogenese, pp. 67–88]; idem, Agilolfingerstudien, pp. 41–3, 57–78, 86–9. 38 See B. Bischoff, Die südostdeutschen Schreibschulen und Bibliotheken in der Karolingerzeit, I – Die bayerischen Diözesen, 3rd edn (Wiesbaden, 1974), II – Die vorwiegend österreichischen Diözesen (Wiesbaden, 1980). See also B. Bischoff, ‘Manuscripts in the Ages of Charlemagne’, pp. 40–2. 39 See, for example, H. Löwe, ‘Salzburg als Zentrum literarischen Schaffens im 8. Jahrhundert’, Mitteilungen des Gesellschaft für Salzbueger Landeskunde 115 (1975), pp. 99–143 [reprinted in idem, Religiosität und Bildung im frühen Mittelalter. Ausgewählte Aufsätze, ed. T. Struve (Weimar, 1994), pp. 1–45 40 See R. McKitterick, ‘Unity and diversity in the Carolingian Church’, in Unity and Diversity in the Church, ed. R.N. Swanson, Studies in Church History 32 (Oxford, 1996), pp. 59–82, at pp. 72–80.

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Anglo-Saxon scribe Peregrinus in collaboration with at least eight ‘local’ scribes.41 A series of cartularies documents the Agilolfings’ generous provision for ecclesiastical institutions, such as the cathedral churches of Salzburg, Regensburg, Freising and Passau, as well as the monasteries of Saint Emmeram and Mondsee, all of which became bastions of learning and letters in eighth-century Bavaria.42 Moreover, the Agilolfings supported and patronised individual scholars as well. An excellent case in point is Virgil of Salzburg (d. 784). Virgil, who supposedly approached Pippin III at Quierzy in 743/4, was sent by the Frankish major domus to Duke Odilo of Bavaria (d. 749) two years later. Odilo immediately recognised Virgil’s talents, and offered him the abbacy of Saint-Peter’s at Salzburg in 747/8 and the bishopric of Salzburg in 749.43 Odilo’s son and successor, Tassilo III, continued his father’s policy. He supported and sponsored the activities of many Bavarian ecclesiastical institutions, and like his father before him maintained close relations with scholars and men of letters, as the admonition addressed to him by a certain Clemens peregrinus clearly testifies.44 Moreover, the Montpellier Psalter, which was copied in Mondsee for Tassilo himself

41 These manuscripts are Munich, Bayerische Staatsbibliothek, Clm 6237, 6297, 6299 and 6433 (CLA IX.1253, 1263, 1265 and 1283 respectively). See also Bischoff, Die südostdeutschen Schreibschulen und Bibliotheken, I, pp. 61–4 and 73–6. 42 See, for example, Die Traditionen des Hochstifts Freising, ed. T. Bitterauf, 2 vols (Munich, 1905); Die Traditionen des Hochstifts Passau, ed. M. Heuwieser (Munich, 1930); Die Traditionen des Hochstifts Regensburg und des Klosters S. Emmeram, ed. J. Widemann (Munich, 1969); Das älteste Traditionsbuch Mondsee, ed. G. Rath and E. Reiter (Linz, 1989). On these collections of charters, see also P.J. Geary, Phantoms of Remembrance. Memory and the Oblivion at the End of the First Millenium (Princeton, 1994), pp. 90–1; Brown, Unjust Seizure, pp. 18–21. 43 For the chronology, see Wolfram, Salzburg, Bayern, Österreich, pp. 253–60. On Virgil of Salzburg and his work, see Brunhölzl I.1, pp. 227–8 and 251–2; Virgil von Salzburg: Missionar und Gelehrter, ed. H. Dopsch and R. Juffinger (Salzbueg, 1984); H. Wolfram, ‘Virgil of St Peter’s at Salzburg’, in Irland und die Christenheit, ed. P. Ní Chatháin and M. Richter (Stuttgart, 1987), pp. 415–20. See also Wood, The Missionary Life, esp. pp. 145–6; McKitterick, History and Memory, pp. 174–85. 44 Clemens Peregrinus, Epistola, ed. E. Dümmler, MGH Epp. IV (Berlin, 1895), pp. 496–7. On this letter, see M. Garrison, ‘Letters to a king and biblical exempla: the examples of Cathuulf and Clemens Peregrinus’, Early Medieval Europe 7 (1998), pp. 305–28.

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or for a member of his family,45 as well as the so-called Rupertus Cross and the Tassilo Chalice,46 to name only two of the most prominent examples, all point at the duke’s personal interest in a wide range of cultural activities. But Tassilo’s cultural interest went far beyond the commissioning of a certain object of art or literature. In the Council of Neuching, which was convened by Tassilo in 771,47 the education of the clergy was discussed, and the duke expressed his concern in front of the Bavarian magnates. He then instructed the bishops of his duchy to have their priests read daily, to recruit teachers, and to institute some sort of episcopal schools.48 This, as pointed out by Pierre Riché, was the first conciliar decree concerning the organisation of schools,49 and it predates Charlemagne’s initiatives in almost two decades. It is, of course, impossible to gauge whether the Bavarian court of the Agilolfings in general, and that of Tassilo III in particular, had any role in shaping Charlemagne’s cultural and educational policy. There are, however, some similarities that need to be pointed out. First, both Tassilo and Charlemagne convened councils for reform purposes. This, one should stress, was not a new practice, but both Tassilo, with the three councils he convened at Aschheim (c. 755–760), Dingolfing (c. 770–776/7) and Neuching (771),50 and subsequently Charlemagne with the numerous councils he convened, were quite exceptional among early medieval rulers in their recurrent use of reform councils.

45 Montpellier, Bibliothèque Univesitaire 409; CLA VI.795. On this manuscript, see Bischoff, Die südostdeutschen Schreibschulen und Bibliotheken, II, pp. 16–20. 46 On the Rupertus Cross, see A. Scharer, ‘Duke Tassilo of Bavaria and the origins of the Rupertus Cross’, in Belief and Culture in the Middle Ages: Studies presented to Henry Mayr-Harting (Oxford, 2001), pp. 68–75; The Making of England: AngloSaxon Art and Culture, AD 600–900, ed. L. Webster and J. Backhouse (London, 1991), pp. 170–3. On the Tassilo Chalice, see G. Haseloff, Der Tassilokelch (Munich, 1951); The Making of England, ed. Webster and Backhouse, p. 168. 47 On the date of the council, see Berg, ‘Zur organisation der Bayerischen Kirche’, pp. 189–90. See also W. Hartmann, Die Synoden der Karolingerzeit im Frankenreich und Italien (Paderborn, 1989), pp. 92–6. 48 Notitia de concilio Neuchingensi, ed. A. Werminghoff, MGH Concilia II.1 (Hannover, 1906), pp. 104–5. See also C.J. Hefele and J. Leclercq, Histoire des conciles d’après les documents originaux, vol. III.2 (Paris, 1910), pp. 971–3, esp. p. 972. 49 Riché, Education and Culture, p. 444. 50 On these councils, see Berg, ‘Zur organisation der Bayerischen Kirche’, pp. 182–91; Hartmann, Die Synoden der Karolingerzeit, pp. 90–6. See also W. Störmer, ‘Frühes Christentum in Altbayern, Schwaben und Franken – Römerzeit und Frühmittelalter bis 798’, in Handbuch der Bayerischen Kirchengeschichte, I (St Ottilien, 1998), pp. 36–93, at pp. 50–2.

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Second, like many rulers in the past, Tassilo also expected something in return for his generous patronage. But, as far as we can tell, the Bavarian duke was not after material goods, nor was he looking for eternal fame. Tassilo, it seems, wished for something more spiritual, in the form of prayers for himself and his family. This intention clearly emerges from the Liber vitae (‘Book of Life’, i.e. confraternity book) of Salzburg, to which the names of the duke, his wife and offspring were added,51 and it accords with the liturgical instructions he gave to the Bavarian bishops and abbots at the council of Dingolfing.52 Similar motives also prompted the Carolingians, and especially Charlemagne, to reform and patronise the liturgy.53 Finally, Bavaria, as we have already mentioned, became the new home for many Irish and Anglo-Saxon peregrini. With the generous support of the Agilolfing dukes they settled in Bavaria, founded numerous new monastic houses,54 and became rather dominant figures in Bavaria’s cultural scene.55 Some of them, like Clemens peregrinus, were closely associated with the duke himself, others (many of which remain anonymous) simply benefited from the duke’s generosity to ecclesiastical institutions. The prominent Insular contribution to the cultural activity in seventh- and eighth-century Bavaria is undeniable, and we can only hypothesise as to whether this phenomena had paved the way for Insular scholars to Charlemagne’s court.56 Given the fact that some scholars, such as Virgil of Salzburg, Arbeo of Freising (d. 783) and Arno

51 See Das Verbrüderungsbuch von St Peter in Salzburg. Vollständige FaksimileAusgabe im Originalformat der Hanschrift A 1 aus dem Archiv von St Peter in Salzburg, ed. K. Forstner, Codices selecti 51 (Graz, 1974). On the Liber vitae of Salzburg, see McKitterick, History and Memory, pp. 174–85; eadem, ‘Geschichte und Gedächtnis in frühmittelalterlichen Bayern: Virgil, Arn und der Liber Vitae von St. Peter zu Salzburg’, in Erzbischof Arn von Salzburg, ed. M. Niederkorn-Bruck and A. Scharer, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichiche Geschichtsforschung 40 (Vienna and Munich, 2004), pp. 68–80. 52 See Notitia de pacto fraternitatis episcoporum et abbatum bawaricorum, ed. A. Werminghoff, MGH Concilia II.2 (Hannover, 1906), pp. 96–7. 53 Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy, esp. pp. 89–94 and passim. 54 See Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum im Frankenreich, pp. 317–445. 55 See A. Angenendt, ‘Die irische Peregrinatio und ihre Auswirkungen auf dem Kontinent vor dem Jahre 800’, in Die Iren und Europa im frühen Mittelalter, ed. H. Löwe, 2 vols (Stuttgart, 1982), I, pp. 52–79. 56 On the Irish and Anglo-Saxon scholars at the court of Charlemagne, see M. Garrison, ‘The English and the Irish at the court of Charlemagne’, in Charlemagne and his Heritage, ed. Butzer, Kerner and Oberschelp, I, pp. 97–123.

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of Salzburg (d. 782), were associated with both the Bavarian and the Frankish courts, such a link is not too far fetched a supposition.

The splendour of Byzantium The Byzantine court has always been regarded by scholars as the foremost example of cultural patronage in the post classical world.57 The emperors, their wives and relatives spent a vast amount of public as well as private money on building palaces, churches and other public monuments, on commissioning art objects and manuscripts, and on patronising the work of scholars, poets and theologians. As in so many matters, Constantine the Great (d. 337) became the model par excellence, which every subsequent Byzantine ruler strove to imitate.58 His mother, the pious Helena, set the model for future imperial women.59 The policy of cultural patronage, which Constantine and his mother adopted, was nothing but a direct continuation to a well-stablished imperial tradition of cultural patronage that had started with Augustus and was kept alive throughout Late Antiquity and the early Byzantine period.60 Although at the beginning of the eighth century the patronage of learning and culture in Byzantium, and consequently the cultural

57 See, for example, E. Kitzinger, ‘Artistic Patronage in Early Byzantium’, in Committenti e produzione, Settimane 39 (Spoleto, 1992), pp. 35–56. 58 See the various papers in New Constantines: The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, ed. P. Magdalino (Aldershot, 1994). The amount of literature on Constantine and his Ages is enormous and cannot be listed here. For a good introduction, see the various papers in The Cambridge Companion to the Ages of Constantine, ed. P. Lenski (Cambridge, 2006), and see there for further bibliography. 59 See L. Brubaker, ‘Memories of Helena: patterns in imperial female matronage in the fourth century’, in Women, Men and Eunuchs: Gender in Byzantium, ed. L. James (London and New York, 1997), pp. 52–57. See also K.G. Holum, Theodosian Empresses: Women and imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1982). On the role of women in Byzantine cultural life, see A.-M. Talbot, ‘Women’, in The Byzantines, ed. G. Cavallo, trans. T. Dunlap, T.L. Fagan and C. Lambert (Chicago and London, 1997), pp. 117–43, at pp. 135–7. 60 See, for example, J. Elsner, Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph. The Art of the Roman Empire, AD 100–450 (Oxford, 1998); J.D. Alchermes, ‘Art and architecture in the age of Justinian’, and C. Rapp, ‘Literary culture under Justinian’, both in The Cambridge Companion to the Ages of Justinian, ed. M. Maas (Cambridge, 2005), pp. 343–75 and 376–97 respectively. See also, J. Haldon, Byzantium in the Seventh Century: The Transformation of a Culture (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 376–435.

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activity in general, witnessed some decline as a result of the instability of imperial rule, it gradually recovered towards the late eighth century.61 One of the most active patrons of this cultural recovery, commonly termed by scholars as the ‘Byzantine Revival’, was Charlemagne’s contemporary (and, at a certain point, even his intended wife), Empress Irene. Born of a noble Athenian family, Irene was married in 769 to the Iconoclastic Emperor Leo IV, and after his death in 780 she became regent for her nine-year-old son, Constantine VI.62 In order to secure her son’s succession, Irene had Leo’s five half-brothers tonsured and ruled on her own, with some eunuch advisers to help her. In 790 Constantine VI took over the government and banished his mother from court; but Irene was not the kind of woman to give up and accept such a fate. After seven fairly disastrous years, Constantine VI was arrested and blinded at the order of his mother, who took control and ruled alone, using the title basileus as well as basilissa, and minting coins which depict her wearing the imperial lorus and holding a globe and a sceptre.63 In 802, a combination of circumstances paved the way for Irene’s downfall. She was deposed by her own finance minister, Nikephorus, and abandoned by her chief officials she was exiled, first to a convent on the Island of Principo, and then to Lesbos, where she died a year later. Irene, it appears, was a great patron of the arts. Throughout her regency, and particularly after 797, Irene patronised the building of ecclesiastical as well as civilian buildings, and had them decorated, obviously, in an iconophile style.64 A tenth-century account of her

61 See W. Treadgold, The Byzanrtine Revival, 780–842 (Stanford, 1988). See also C. Mango, Byzantium: The Empire of the New Rome (London, 1980), pp. 137–42; idem, ‘The revival of learning’, in The Oxford History of Byzantium(Oxford, 2002), pp. 214–29. 62 On Irene, see J. Herrin, Women in Purple: Rulers of Medieval Byzantium (London, 2001), pp. 51–129. See also S. Runciman, ‘Empress Irene the Athenian’, in Medieval Woman:, ed. D. Baker, Studies in Church History, subsidia 1 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 101–18; L. Garland, Byzantine Empresses: Women and Power in Byzantium, AD 527–1204 (London and New York, 1999), pp. 73–94; idem, ‘Constantine VI and Irene’, in De imperatoribus Romanis: An Online Encyclopaedia of Roman Emperors [http://www. roman-emperors.org/irene.htm]. 63 See L. Brubaker, and J. Haldon, Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era (c. 680–850): The Sources. An Annotated Survey (Aldershot, 2001), p. 124. See also P. Grierson, Catalogue of the Byzantine Coins in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection, 5 vols (Washington, DC, 1966–73), III.1, pp. 347–51. 64 See Herin, Women in Purple, pp. 102–7.

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munificence to the church of the Virgin of the Source (tês pêgês) in commemoration of her healing there, is an excellent example of the empress’ actions: In gratitutde for which she [i.e. Irene] together with her son [i.e. Constantine VI], dedicated veils woven of gold and curtains of gold thread    as well as a crown and vessels for the bloodless sacrifice decorated with stones and pearls. She also ordered that, as a lasting memorial, their portraits should be executed in mosaic on either side of the church, handing over the offerings that have been enumerated so as both to express their faith and to proclaim for all the miracle    65 No doubt the empress’ philanthropy and patronage of the arts were nurtured by her iconophile beliefs and her wish to restore the cult of the icons. These motives become even more apparent in the sponsorship she offered men of letters. The Patriarch Tarasios (d. 806), for example, was entrusted by the empress with the provision of the theological and dogmatic foundations to her iconophile movement,66 and his treatise against the decisions of the iconoclast council of 754 was even read in its entirety at the seventh ecumenical council, that was convened at Nicaea in 787 under the auspices of Irene and her son.67 Did Charlemagne know what was going on in Irene’s court? I believe he did. This is not the place to get engrossed in a lengthy discussion about Charlemagne’s relations with Byzantium and its rulers.68 It will 65 De sacris aedibus deiparae ad fontem, in AASS Nov. III (Brussels, 1910), p. 880C. I cite the English translation from C. Mango, The Art of the Byzantine Empire, 312–1453 (Englewood Cliffs, 1972), pp. 156–7. 66 On Tarasios, see C. Ludwig and T. Pratch, ‘Trasios (784–806)’, in Die Patriarchen de ikonoklastischen Zeit. Germanos I. – Methodius I. (715–847), ed. R.-J. Lillie, Berliner byzantinische Studien 5 (Berlin and Frankfurt, 1999), pp. 57–108. 67 See D.J. Sahas, Icon and Logos: Sources in Eighth-Century Iconoclasm (Toronto, Buffalo and London, 1986), pp. 35–9. 68 On this issue, see P. Classen, Karl der Große, das Papsttum und Byzanz: Die Begründung des karolingischen Kaisertums, Baiträge zur Geschichte und Quellenkunde des Mittelalters 9 (Sigmaringen, 1985); H.H. Anton, ‘Beobachtungen zum fränkish-byzantinischen Verhältnis in karolingischer Zeit’, in Beiträge zur Geschichte des Regnum Francorum. Festschrift für Friederich Prinz zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, ed. R. Schieffer (Stuttgart, 1990), pp. 97–119. See also P. Grierson, ‘The Carolingian empire in the eyes of Byzantium’, in Nascita dell’Europa ed Europa carolingia: un’equazione da verificare, Settimane 27 (Spoleto, 1981), pp. 885–916.

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suffice to mention here the numerous delegations that went back and forth between Constantinople and Francia, and the numerous gifts they were carrying with them, to realise that information about Byzantium in general, and the imperial court in particular, was readily available in the West.69 For example, in 756 or 757, as the continuator of Fredegar relates, ‘King Pippin sent a mission to the Emperor Constantine [V] at Constantinople. The Emperor Constantine likewise sent an embassy with many gifts to the king; and through their representatives each swore friendship and fidelity to the other’.70 However reports on one Byzantine delegation to the West leaves little place to doubt that Chralemagne’s court was indeed familiar to a certain extent with Byzantine courtly practices. In 781, as we are told by the Annales Mosellani (‘The Moselle Annals’) and the Annales Laureshamenses (‘The Annals of Lorsch’), a Byzantine delegation met Charlemagne in Rome to discuss the betrothal of his daughter Rotrudis to the young Byzantine Emperor Constantine VI, Irene’s son.71 The Byzantine chronicler known as Theophanes provides a more detailed account of this episode: In this year Irene sent the sakellarios Konstaes and the primicerius Mamalos to Karoulos, king of the Franks, with a view to betrothing his daughter, called Erythro, to her son, the emperor Constantine. An agreement having been reached and oaths exchanged, they left the eunuch Elissaios, who was a notary, in order to teach Erythro Greek letters and language, and educate her in the customs of the Roman Empire.72 Hence, not only delegates from both sides could meet and exchange information, the Byzantines also left behind a eunuch to teach the 69 See M. McCormick, ‘Byzantium and the West, 700–900’, in NCMH II, pp. 349–80. 70 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, Cont. 40, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, p. 109. According to the Royal Frankish Annals, Constantine V sent to Pippin, among many other presents, an organ; see Annales regni Francorum, s.a. 757, ed. Kurze, p. 14. 71 Annales Mosellani, s.a. 781, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS XVI (Hannover, 1859), p. 497; Annales Laureshamenses, s.a. 781, ed. G.H. Pertz, MGH SS (Hannover, 1829), p. 32. 72 Theophanes, Chonographia, s.a. 6274 [AD 781/2], ed. C. de Boer, 2 vols, Teubner (Leipzig, 1883), I, p. 455. I cite the English translation by C. Mango and R. Scott, The Chronicle of Theophanes Confessor: Byzantine and Near Estern History, AD 284–813 (Oxford, 1997), p. 628.

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young princess the Byzantine ways of doing things. No doubt Elissaeus could have provided the Frankish court with all the necessary information on the ins and outs of the Byzantine court, and the fact that he was asked to teach Rotrudis (who was also given a Greek name, Erythro, that is, ‘Red’) ‘Greek letters and language’ must have indicated for the Franks the importance given to cultural matters by the rulers of Byzantium. Moreover, Charlemagne must have been aware of Irene’s involvement in the iconoclastic controversy. In 787, as we have already mentioned, Irene convened an ecumenical council in Nicaea in an attempt to ban and eradicate iconoclasm once and for all.73 No Frankish representatives were invited by Irene to attend the council, but in 790 Charlemagne entrusted Theodulf of Orléans (d. c. 820) with compiling the official Carolingian response to the decrees of that council.74 Notwithstanding the fact that Theodulf and the Carolingian theologians relied on an inaccurate Latin translation of the Greek text that was sent to them, which inevitably distorted the meaning of the council’s decisions, it did not prevent them from realising Irene’s crucial role in the entire iconoclastic affair. Hence, in his treatise against the council’s decisions, commonly known as the Libri Carolini (‘The Caroline Books’), Theodulf denounced fiercely Irene’s interference with theological matters, and particularly her role in the council.75 Irene’s actions and conduct, it seems, were well familiar to Charlemagne’s courtier, and subsequently to Charlemagne himself. Following the council of Nicaea, the relations between Byzantium and Francia have soured, and in the very same year of the council (i.e. 787) Rotrudis’ betrothal to Constantine VI was annulled. According to Einhard it was Charlemagne who called off the marriage because

73 On the council of Nicaea, see H.G. Thümmel, Die Konzilien zur Bilderfrage im 9. und 9. Jahrhundert: Das 7. ökumenische Konzil in Nikaia, 787 (Paderborn, 2005). 74 Opus Caroli Regis contra synodum (Libri Carolini), ed. A. Freeman and P. Meyvaert, MGH Concilia, supplementum 1 (Hannover, 1998). An English translation of the introduction was published in A. Freeman, Theodulf of Orléans: Charlemagne’s Spokesman against the Second Council of Nicaea (Aldershot, 2003), ch. I, and see there for further references. 75 See Opus Caroli Regis, III.13, ed. Freeman and Meyvaert, pp. 385–91. See also J. Nelson, ‘Women at the court of Charlemagne: a case for monstrous regiment?’, in eadem, The Frankish World, 750–900 (London and Rio Grande, 1996), pp. 223–42, at pp. 228–31 [originally published in Medieval Queenship, ed. J.C. Parsons (New York, 1993), pp. 43–61].

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he could not bear the thought of his daughter spending the rest of her life away from him.76 Theophanes, on the other hand, blames Irene, who was determined to marry her son to a certain Maria from the region of the Armeniakon in Asia Minor.77 Later on, after Charlemagne’s imperial coronation and after Irene became aware of the burgeoning opposition to her rule, negotiations between the two courts were renewed, this time in an attempt to arrange Irene’s marriage to Charlemagne.78 A recurrent theme in the Carolingian criticism of Byzantium during Charlemagne’s reign is the fact that a woman was sitting on the imperial throne and was actually controlling the eastern empire. In his harsh criticism of Irene in the Libri Carolini, for example, Theodulf writes that: Frailty of sex and changeableness of heart do not allow a woman to put herself in supreme authority over man in matters of doctrine or command. She must submit to a man’s authority.    It is one thing to sit at the feet of the Lord, quite another to organise synods, teach men in councils, hand down perverse decrees.79 Similarly the Annals of Lorsch, when justifying Charlemagne’s imperial coronation of 800, states that: And since the name of emperor (nomen imperatoris) was at this time lacking among the Greeks and they had a female rule (femineum imperium) among them, it then seemed to the apostolic [i.e. Pope] Leo and to all the holy fathers present at that council, as well as to the rest of the Christian people, that they ought to bestow the name of emperor upon Charles himself, king of the Franks, who held Rome itself, where the Caesars had always been accustomed to have their seat, and the rest of the seats, which he held throughout Italy, Gaul and Germany; since almighty God had granted all these seats into his power, it seemed to them to be right that, with the help of God

76 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni, c. 19, ed. Holder-Egger, pp. 24–5. 77 Theophanes, Chronographia, s.a. 6281 [AD 788/9], ed. de Boor, I, p. 463. 78 See Annales regni Francorum, s.a. 802, ed. Kurze, p. 117; Theophanes, Chronographia, s.a. 6294 [AD 801/2], ed. de Boor, I, p. 475. 79 Opus Caroli Regis, III.13, ed. Freeman and Meyvaert, pp. 386–90. I cite the English translation from, Nelson, ‘Women at the court of Charlemagne’, p. 229.

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and at the request of the entire Christian people, he should have that name.80 What was reprimanded here was not Irene’s conduct (or rather misconduct) as an emperor, but the fact that a woman was sitting on the imperial throne and behaving exactly like a male emperor was expected to behave. Hence, if Charlemagne, and more so his propagandists, wanted to justify the imperial title, the Frankish king had to be at least equal in his imperial conducts to the woman who controlled Byzantium during most of his reign, and these, as we have seen, included the patronage of culture and learning.

Ex oriente lux? In 798 an embassy was sent by Irene to inform Charlemagne that Constantine VI had been arrested and blinded in the previous year.81 The Royal Frankish Annals’ claim that ‘this embassy was only about peace’, discloses a certain Byzantine unease with the growing power of yet another player in the field, the Abbasid Caliph Harun al-Rashid (d. 809), Charlemagne’s supposed ally and friend. The Franks’ relations with the Muslim East had been inaugurated in the days of the Abbasid Caliph al-Mansur (d. 775). In 765 Pippin III had sent a delegation to the caliph’s court in Bagdhad, and three years later the very same delegation, loaded with gifts and accompanied by several Muslim envoys, made its way back to Francia.82 The same pattern of reciprocal delegations and gift exchange continued to characterise the Abbasid-Frankish relations throughout Charlemagne’s reign.83 One can only guess at the purpose of these contacts. It has been suggested in the past that Charlemagne’s alliance with the Abbasid rulers was part of a composite political scheme to form a coalition against 80 Annales Laureshamenses, s.a. 801, ed. Pertz, p. 38. I cite (with minor changes) the English translation by P.D. King, Charlemagne: Translated Sources (Kendal, 1987), p. 144. 81 Annales regni Francorum, s.a. 798, ed. Kurze, p. 104. 82 Fredegar, Chronicarum liber quartus, Cont. 51, ed. and trans. Wallace-Hadrill, pp. 118–19. On this delegation, see M. McCormick, ‘Pippin III, the embacy to the Caliph al-Mansur, and the Mediterranean world’, in Der Dynastiewechsel von 751, ed. Becher and Jarnut, pp. 221–41. 83 See Y. Hen, ‘Charlemagne and the Holy Land’, in Einhard: Life of Charlemagne, trans. with introduction, commentary and appendices Y. Hen (Tel Aviv, 2005), pp. 79–91 [in Hebrew]. See also M. Gil, A History of Palestine , 634–1099, trans. E. Broido (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 285–9.

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Byzantium;84 others have seen them as an attempt to counterbalance the growing power of the Muslim rulers of al-Andalus (that is, Muslim Spain). There is, however, nothing in our sources to support either view. What we do have are several indications that some less ambitious and more straightforward incentives stood behind Charlemagne’s interest in the Near East. Taking into account the Frankish king’s negotiations with the Abbasid court as well as his dealings with the patriarch of Jerusalem,85 it seems more probable that concern for the wellbeing of the Latin clerics and the Frankish pilgrims in the Holy Land motivated Charlemagne to form friendly relations with the caliph and the patriarch.86 Such an interpretation accords well with numerous bits and pieces of information gleaned from our sources, all of which document Charlemagne’s concern for the Latin Christians in the East. For example, in his biography of Charlemagne, Einhard relates that: When he [i.e. Charlemagne] learned that the Christians in Jerusalem, Alexandria, and Carthage were living in poverty, he was moved by their impoverished condition and used to send money. It was chiefly for this reason that he struck up friendships with kings overseas, so that the poor Christians living under their rule might receive some relief and assistance.87 Similarly, the Annales regni Francorum mention the various gifts that were sent by Charlemagne to the East,88 and a capitulary that was issued at Aachen in 810 reports on the money he donated for the repair of churches in Jerusalem.89 He even had a list of all the churches 84 See, for example, L. Bréhier, L’église et l’orient au Moyen Age, 2 vols (Paris, 1907), II, pp. 118–19; idem, ‘Charlemagne et la Palestine’, Revue historique 157(1928), pp. 277–91. Many modern scholars followed Bréhier’s suggestion. 85 See, for example, Annales regni Francorum, s.a. 799, ed. Kurze, p. 108. 86 On pilgrimage to the Holy Land in Charlemagne’s time, see Y. Hen, ‘Holy Land pilgrims from Frankish Gaul’, Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 76 (1998), pp. 291–306; idem, ‘Les authentique des reliques de la Terre Sainte en Gaul franque’, Le Moyen Age 105 (1999), pp. 71–90; M. McCormick, ‘Les pèlerins occidentaux à Jérusalem, VIIIe-IXe siécles’, in Voyages et voyageurs à Byzance et en occident du VIe au XIe siècles, ed. A. Dierkens, J.-M. Sansterre (Geneva, 2000), pp. 289–306; idem, Origins of European Economy, esp. pp. 197– 207. 87 See Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni, c. 27, ed. Holder-Egger, pp. 31–2 [trans. Dutton, Charlemagne Courtier, p. 33]. 88 Annales regni Francorum, s.a. 800, ed. Kurze, p. 112. 89 Capitulare missorum Aquisgranense primum, c. 18, ed. A. Boretius, MGH Cap. I (Hannover, 1883), p. 154.

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and monasteries in Jerusalem and its surroundings where westerners resided.90 The results of Charlemagne’s involvement in facilitating the pilgrimage to the East were still observed and appreciated by pilgrims in the late ninth century, as Bernard the monk from Mont-Saint-Michel reports: [W]e reached the holy city of Jerusalem, where we stayed in the hospice of the most glorious emperor Charles. All who come to Jerusalem for reasons of devotion and who speaks the Roman language (lingua Romana) are given hospitality there. Beside it there is a church in honour of Saint Mary, and thanks to the emperor it has a splendid Bible (bibliotheca) and twelve mansions, with fields, vineyards and a garden in the valley of Jehoshaphat.91 To these one can add numerous decrees, in which Charlemagne ordered to treat pilgrims with largesse, to house them, and to exempt them from paying the toll.92 Hence, it is more than probable that Charlemagne’s diplomatic relations with the East were formed, partly at least, in order to secure the safety of the Frankish pilgrims and clerics who visited or resided in the Holy Land.93 And yet, it may also be that the exchanges with the Muslim rulers of the East were part of a political move that was meant to boost Charlemagne’s national as well as international prestige and fame. By the time he contacted the ruler of the Abbasid caliphate, Harun al-Rashid was already famous throughout Europe and the East, not only because 90 Commemmoratorie de casis Dei vel monasterii, ed. T. Tobler and A. Molinier, Itinera Hierosolymitana et descriptionums terrae sanctae (Geneva, 1879), pp. 301– 5. 91 Bernardus Monachus, Itinerarium, c. 10, ed. Tobler and Molinier, Itinera Hierosolymitana, p. 314. I cite (with some changes) the translation by J. Wilkinson, Jerusalem Pilgrims Before the Crusades (Warminster, 1977), p. 142. On the translation of bibliotheca as ‘Bible’, see Hen, ‘Holy Land pilgrims’, p. 297, n. 41. 92 See, for example, Concilium Baiuwaricum, c. 15, ed. A. Werminghoff, MGH Concilia II.1 (Hannover, 1906), p. 53; Concilium Turonense, c. 6, ed. Weminghoff, p. 287; Concilium Aquisgranense, c. 49, ed. Weminghoff, p. 362. See also Karoli Magni mandatum ad Arnonem archiepiscopum, c. 8, ed. Werminghoff, p. 214; Alcuin, Epistolae, Ep. 100, ed. Dümmler, p. 145. 93 On Charlemagne’s involvement in the East, see also S. Runciman, ‘Charlemagne and Palestine’, English Historical Review 50 (1935), pp. 606–19; M. Borgolte, Die Gesandtenaustausch der Karolinger mit den Abbasiden und mit den Patriarchen von Jerusalem (Munich, 1976); A. Graboïs, ‘Charlemagne, Rome and Jerusalem’, Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 59 (1981), pp. 792–809; G. Musca, Carlo Magno e Harun al-Rashid, 2nd edn (Bari, 1996).

Postcards from the Edges

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of his conquests, but also because of his patronage of learning.94 Harun, like his father before him, sponsored poets and scholars,95 and under his ruler Baghdad, his capital, became a vibrant cultural centre, to where men of letters from all over the East flocked.96 The caliph’s court was, as could only be expected, the main focus of intellectual activity in the city and throughout the caliphate as a whole.97 The most important scholars gathered there to pursue their intellectual work under the generous auspices of the ruler, and it was there that Harun had founded some sort of a palace library, the bayt al-hikma (‘house of wisdom’).98 Yet, the most outstanding cultural phenomenon that was sponsored and encouraged by the Abbaside court was the so-called translation movement. The Abbasid caliphs adopted some salient aspects of the Zoroastrian Sasanian imperial ideology, among them the culture of translation that it assumed and promoted.99 Hence, from the time of al-Mansur onwards, numerous Greek scientific and philosophical texts were translated into Arabic. The caliphs’ interest in the Greek intellectual heritage and their generous patronage of the translators enabled this translation movement to become one of the most prominent forms of cultural activity in the Abbasid period. The aristocracy duly followed suit, and thus the patronage of translators turned out to be one of the most fashionable acts of munificence in Abbasid ruling circles.100 The importance of this extraordinary translation movement cannot be underestimated. Not

94 On Harun al-Rashid and his rule, see H. Kennedy, The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates: The Islamic Near East from the Sixth to the Eleventh Century (London and New York, 1986), pp. 141–8; idem, The Court of the Caliphs: When Baghdad Ruled the Muslim World (London, 2004), pp. 51–84. See also T. El-Hibri, Reinterpreting Islamic Historiography: Harun al-Rashid and the Narrative of the Abbasid Caliphate (Cambridge, 1999), esp. pp. 17–58. 95 See, for example, Kennedy, The Court of the Caliphs, pp. 112–29. 96 On the importance of Baghdad as an intellectual centre in the Abbasid period, see G. Le Strange, Baghdad during the Abbaside Caliphate (London, 1909). 97 See G. Algazi and R. Drori, ‘L’amour à la cour des abbasides: un code de competence sociale’, Annales 55 (2000), pp. 1255–82; G. Algazi, ‘Hofkulturen im Vergleich. “Liebe” bei den frühen Abbasiden’, in Das europäische Mittelalter im Spannungsbogen des Vergleichs, ed. M. Borgolte, Europa im Mittelalter 1 (Berlin, 2001), pp. 187–96. 98 On the bayt al-hikma, see D. Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The GraecoArabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early Abbasid Society (2nd–4th/ 8th–10th centuries) (London and New York), pp. 53–60. 99 See Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, pp. 28–52. 100 On the translation movement, see Gutas, Greek Thought, Arabic Culture, passim. See also Kennedy, The Court of the Caliphs, pp. 253–60.

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only did it influence profoundly the culture of the entire Muslim world, it also left deep marks on the culture of the Latin West. After all, many of the texts that were translated in eight- and ninth-century Baghdad, formed the basis for the revival of Greek philosophy and sciences in what is commonly known as the renaissance of the twelfth-century and in the Renaissance proper. Harun al-Rashid’s reputation reached far and wide, and the mythical proportions of his fame were subsequently eternalised in the Thousand and One Nights.101 Could it be that the caliph’s reputation as a patron of learning had reached the Frankish court, and hence sparked Charlemagne’s interest in culture and in patronising intellectuals? Might the caliph’s intellectual court and the Abbasid translation movement have acted as models for Charlemagne’s intellectual court and for his provisions for the revival of learning? It seems we will never know, but nonetheless it is tempting to speculate. After all, Charlemagne was eager to establish connection with the Abbasid caliph, and the complete silence of the Muslin sources on Charlemagne’s diplomatic exchange with Harun al-Rashid, makes it more than probable that the Franks looked up to the Abbasids, and not vice versa. ∗

∗

∗

Desiderius, Tassilo, Irene, and Harun al-Rashid are only few examples of eighth-century rulers who could have inspired Charlemagne’s intellectual curiosity. One can add to this list King Offa of Mercia (d. 796), who delighted Alcuin with his concern for learning,102 or Alfonso II (d. 842), king of Galicia and Asturias, who sent several envoys and letters to the Frankish king, and who, like Charlemagne himself, had to deal with Adoptionism.103 All these rulers and other contemporary magnates, were, in one way or another, patrons of learning and literature. They all followed a well-established tradition, and their courts preserved a certain degree of continuity in sponsoring and encouraging intellectual, artistic and literary activity. 101 See A. Clot, Harun al-Rashid and the World of the Thousand and One Nights, trans. J. Howe (New York, 1989). 102 Alcuin, Epistolae, Ep. 64, ed. Dümmler, p. 107. On Offa and Charlemagne, see J. Story, Carolingian Connections: Anglo-Saxon England and Carolingain Francia, c. 750–870 (Aldershot, 2003), pp. 169–211. 103 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni, c. 16, ed. Holder-Egger, p. 19. Alfonso’s letter to Charlemagne did not survive. On the fight against Adoptionism, see J.C. Cavadini, The Last Christology of the West: Adoptionism in Spain and Gaul, 785–820 (Philadelphia, 1993).

7 Conclusion

In his famous study of court culture in the high Middle Ages, the German historian Joachim Bumke summarised what was for many years the standard textbook narrative on the relations between courts and culture in the early medieval West: For ecclesiastical authors, in whose hands lay all literary production up to the twelfth century, patronage played an insignificant role. Monks and canons were not dependent on the goodwill of patrons in pursuing their literary activities. The scriptoria and libraries in the monasteries and cathedral chapters supplied them with everything they needed. Finished works were often given a dedication and were sent off to writer friends or to ecclesiastical dignitaries, who could be considered the author’s patrons only in a very broad sense.1 Such a view in now untenable. As the cases studied above clearly demonstrate, the promotion and endowment of learning and culture by powerful and wealthy men and women did not die out with the supposed ‘decline and fall of the Roman empire’, only to be revived in the twelfth century. Throughout the early Middle Ages, both in the East and the West, rulers expressed a genuine interest in the culture of their day, and subsequently invested much wealth and effort in patronising artists, theologians and men of letters. Theoderich, Thrasamund, Dagobert, Sisebut, Desiderius, Tassilo, Irene and Harun al-Rashid are, of course, only the tip of an iceberg. Other rulers of the post-Roman world, such as the Burgundian king Sigismund 1 J. Bumke, Courtly Culture! Literature and Society in the High Middle Ages, trans. T. Dunlap (Berkeley, Los Angeles and Oxford, 1991), p. 459. 177

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(d. 524), the Byzantine emperor Justinian (d. 565), the Frankish king Chilperic (d. 584), the Visigothic king Leovigild (d. 586), the Lombard king Liutprand (d. 744), and many others, could be added to the list of patrons who preserved the Roman imperial tradition of sponsoring and encouraging cultural activity in their kingdoms. Yet, each of these rulers approached the matter in his or her own peculiar way, stressing cultural elements which were close to their hearts, or which seemed more appropriate to their purposes. Patronage was always a way to establish and enhance prestige, but in many cases it was also valuable as an expression of group or even national identity, in the creation of religious and doctrinal boundaries, and in the propagation of certain ideals and norms. Against this background, Charlemagne and his illustrious court appear to have been part of a long continuum of cultural patronage and sponsorship that had started with the first Roman emperor, Augustus, and was subsequently kept alive by many emperors, kings and wealthy aristocrats. And yet, the Carolingian renaissance was something incomparable in the cultural scene of the early medieval West. What made it so exceptional was not so much the practice of patronising scholars and promoting learning, but the fact that these were so closely bound up with the ruler’s religious conviction and political ideology. The revival of learning per se was never one of Charlemagne’s objectives; it was rather an outcome of the ecclesiastical reforms he promulgated in an attempt to create a better Christian society whose salvation is assured, and thereby ensures the salvation of the king.2 In this respect, the Carolingian renaissance was significantly different from many of the examples discussed above. Charlemagne, as is very well known, operated on a much more grandiose scale than any of his predecessors. He personally recruited scholars from all over Europe, he collected hundreds of manuscripts in his court library, he made an attempt to create a canon of authoritative religious texts, and he ordered that schools for the teaching of children should be created in every monastery and episcopal residence. Although it seems to have started as an eccentric whim of a megalomanic ruler, the Carolingian renaissance was no ephemeral phenomenon. It was

2 On the ecclesiastical reforms promulgated by Charlemagne, see R. McKitterick, The Frankish Church and the Carolingian Reforms, 789–987 (London, 1977); Wallace-Hadrill, The Frankish Church, pp. 180–204; Brown, ‘Introduction: the Carolingian Renaissance’, pp. 16–28; Hen, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy, pp. 65–8.

Conclusion 179

subsidised by public funds, it was supported by the entire ecclesiastical as well as the secular elite, and it was conducted with rigorous scholarly supervision by the king’s councillors, most notably the famous Alcuin of York. Underlining the role of the king in patronising culture served to enhance Charlemagne’s dignity by linking him with Roman imperial practices, and Carolingian propagandists stressed this feature of his activities. For eighth- and ninth-century writers it was axiomatic that Charlemagne had indeed revived learning after a long period of neglect and decline and, as happened so often, the manipulations of the Carolingian propaganda were, and in many cases still are, extremely effective and influential. Nevertheless, it is quite clear that Charlemagne’s own statements and the subsequent image of his patronage of learning were, at times, too sweeping and exaggerated. The fact that Charlemagne was fully aware of the importance of learning, and that he made a genuine effort to improve the instruction to his clergy, is undeniable. But one must constantly bear in mind, that Charlemagne was not the only ruler who patronised culture in the early medieval West, nor was he the first to do so. He continued an entrenched Roman imperial tradition, and it may well be that his cultural vision was influenced and nurtured by several models of active learning centres, not only in Rome and Byzantium, but also in the various Barbarian kingdoms of the post-Roman world. A different idiosyncratic notion assumes that throughout the early Middle Ages cultural activity was concentrated in monasteries and cathedral churches, and that early medieval monastic movements (especially the Benedictine one) encouraged these activities. Our evidence does not support this view. First, as we have seen, the bastions of cultural activity in the post Roman world were still the courts of kings and aristocrats. Very little cultural activity took place within the walls of monasteries between the fourth and the sixth centuries, and if something did come from a monastery it was the work of a particular individual who happened to live there, such as Jerome who operated from his monastery in Bethlehem, or Augustine who operated from his monastery in Hippo. The monasteries themselves did not become active learning centres thanks to the activity of those individuals, and the only late-antique attempt to turn a monastery into an intellectual centre, that of Cassiodorus in Vivaroium, ended up in a colossal failure. It was only at the beginning of the seventh century, with the influx of intellectual peregrini from Ireland and Anglo-Saxon England, and with the promotion

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of numerous Merovingian courtiers to ecclesiastical offices, that monasteries in the early medieval West became centres of cultural activity. Moreover, Benedictine monasticism did not encourage intellectual activity before the eighth century, that is, before Charlemagne adopted the Benedictine rule as the standard rule for the monastic communities throughout Francia. It was the so-called Columbanian monasticism that led the way in this respect. And yet again, one must constantly bear in mind that the origins of this monastic movement in Ireland and AngloSaxon England, and its immense success on the Continent, were closely linked with local aristocratic circles. It was a phenomenon created by aristocrats, for aristocrats, and therefore attracted mainly aristocrats, whose intellectual activity was evidently part of their aristocratic identity. To sum up, it is only through a careful examination of activities in the courts of kings and magnates that one gains a real sense of the volume and vigour of cultural life in the post-Roman World. The barbarian kings, who took over rule in the western provinces of the Roman empire, sponsored scholarship and patronised learning and letters just as their Roman predecessors had done. Although these efforts were overshadowed by the burst of intellectual and artistic activity under Charlemagne and his successors, the cultural accomplishment of the Barbarian kingdoms of the early medieval West was neither marginal, nor trivial. Cultural patronage in the courts of the post-Roman rulers of Europe and North Africa was, in fact, the giant on whose shoulders the Carolingian Renaissance so comfortably sat.

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184 Select Bibliography King, P.D., Charlemagne: Translated Sources (Kendal, 1986) Leges Visigothorum, ed. K. Zeumer, MGH LNG 1 (Hannover, 1902) Les canons des conciles mérovingiens (VIe–VIIe siècles), ed. and trans. J. Gaudemet and B. Basdevant, 2 vols, SC 353–354 (Paris, 1989) Les palimpsests ariens latins de Bobbio, ed. R. Gryson, Armarium codicum insignia 2 (Turnhout, 1982) Lex Baiwariorum, ed. E. von Schwind, MGH LNG V.2 (Hannover, 1926) Liber historiae Francorum, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM II (Hannover, 1888), pp. 241–328 Liber sacramentorum Romanae aecclesiae ordinis anni circuli (Sacramentarium Gelasianum), ed. L.C. Mohlberg, L. Eizenhöfer and P. Siffrin, Rerum Ecclesiasticarum Documenta. Series maior 4 (Rome, 1960) Libri Carolini see Opus Caroli regis contra synodum Linder, A., The Jews in the Legal Sources of the Early Middle Ages (Detroit and Jerusalem, 1997) McNamara, J.A., Halborg, J.E. and Whatley, E.G., Sainted Women of the Dark Ages (Durham and London, 1992) Marculf, Formularum libri duo, ed. A. Udholm (Uppsala, 1962) Miscellanea Wisigothica, ed. J. Gil, Filosofia y Letras (Seville, 1972) Missale Francorum, ed. L.C. Mohlberg, L. Eizenhöfer and P. Siffrin, Rerum Ecclesiasticarum Documenta. Series maior 2 (Rome, 1957) Notitia provinciarum et civitatum Africae, ed. and trans. S. Lancel, in Victor de Vita: Histoire de la persécution vandale en Afrique, (Paris, 2002), pp. 252–72 Opus Caroli Regis contra synodum (Libri Carolini), ed. A. Freeman and P. Meyvaert, MGH Concilia, supplementum 1 (Hannover, 1998) Ordo generis Cassiodororum, ed. T. Mommsen, MGH AA XII (Berlin, 1894), p. vi [trans. Barnish, Cassiodorus: Variae, pp. xxxvi–xxxvii] Passio Leudegarii I, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM V (Hannover, 1910), pp. 282–322 [reprinted in CCSL 117 (Turnhout, 1957), pp. 527–86] [trans. Fouracre and Gerberding, Late Merovingian France] Paul the Deacon, Carmina, ed. H. Neff, Die Gedichte des Paulus Diaconus: kritische und erklärende Ausgabe, Quellen und Untersuchungen zur lateinischen Philologie des Mittelalters III.4 (Munich, 1908) ——, Historia Langobardorum, ed. and trans. L. Capo, Paolo Diacono: Storia dei Longobardi (Rome, 1992) ——, Historia Romana, ed. A. Crivellucci, Fonti per la Storia d’Italia (Rome, 1913) Peter of Pisa, Carmina, ed. E. Dümmler, MGH Poetae 1 (Berlin, 1881), pp. 48–86 Possidius, Vita sancti Augustini, ed. M. Pellegrino, Verba seniorum 4 (Alba, 1954) [trans. F.R. Hoare, in Soldiers of Christ: Saints and Saints’ Lives from Antiquity to the Early Middle Ages, ed. T.F.X. Noble and T. Head (University Park, PA, 1995)] Procopius, History of the Wars, ed. and trans. H.B. Dewing, LCL, 7 vols (Cambridge, MA and London, 1914–28) Sacramentarium Gelasianum, see Liber sacramentorum Romanae aecclesiae ordinis anni circuli Salvian of Marseilles, De gubernatione Dei, ed. and trans. G. Lagarrigue, SC 220 (Paris, 1975) [trans. J.F. O’Sullivan, The Writings of Salvian the Presbyter, The Fathers of the Church (Washington, DC, 1947)] Scolies ariennes sur la concile d’Aquilée, ed. and trans. R. Gryson, SC 267 (Paris, 1980) Scripta Arriana latina I, ed. R. Gryson, CCSL 87 (Turnhout, 1982)

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186 Select Bibliography Angenendt, A., ‘Die irische Peregrinatio und ihre Auswirkungen auf dem Kontinent vor dem Jahre 800’, in Die Iren und Europa im frühen Mittelalter, ed. H. Löwe, 2 vols (Stuttgart, 1982), I, pp. 52–79 Anton, H.H., ‘Beobachtungen zum f ränkish-byzantinischen Verhältnis in karolingischer Zeit’, in Beiträge zur Geschichte des Regnum Francorum. Festschrift für Friederich Prinz zu seinem 65. Geburtstag, ed. R. Schieffer (Stuttgart, 1990), pp. 97–119 ——, Fürstenspiegel und Herrscherethos in der Karolingerzeit, Bonner Historische Forschungen 32 (Bonn, 1968) Ausbüttel, F.M., Theoderich der Große (Darmstadt, 2003) Aznar Tello, S., San Braulio y su tiempo (Zaragoza, 1986) Bachrach, B., ‘A reassessment of Visigothic Jewish policy, 589–711’, American Historical Review 78 (1973), pp. 11–34 Banniard, M., Viva Voce. Communication écrite et communication orale du IVe au IXe siècle en Occident latin (Paris, 1992) Barbier, J., ‘Le système palatial franc: genèse et fonctionnement dans le Nord–Ouest du regnum’, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 148 (1990), pp. 245–99 Barnwell, P., Emperors, Perfects, and Kings: The Roman West, 395–565 (London, 1992) Becher, M., Charlemagne, trans. D.S. Bachrach (New Haven and London, 2003) ——, Eid unde Herrschaft. Untersuchungen zum Herrscherethos Karls des Großen, Vorträge und Forschungen 39 (Sigmaringen, 1993) Belting, H., ‘Studien zum beneventanischen Hof im 8. Jahrhundert’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 16 (1962), pp. 141–93 Berg, H., ‘Zur Organisation der bayerischen Kirche und zu den bayerischen Synoden des 8. Jahrhunderts’, in Typen der Ethnogenese, ed. Wolfram and Pohl, I, pp. 181–97 Bergengruen, A., Adel und Grundherrschaft im Merowingerreich (Wiesbaden, 1952) Bernard, P., ‘La “liturgie de la victoire”. Mise en scène du pouvoir, ordo missae et psalmodie responsoriale dans l’Antiquité tardive et le haut Moyen Age. Réflexions à partir de l’Expositio du Pseudo-Germain de Paris’, Ecclesia orans 13 (1996), pp. 349–406 Berschin, W., Biographie und Epochenstil im lateinischen Mittelalter, II, Quellen und Untersuchungen zur lataeinischen Philologie des Mittelalters 9 (Stuttgart, 1988) ——, Greek Letters and the Latin Middle Ages, from Jerome to Nicholas of Cusa, trans. J.C. Frakes (Washington, DC, 1988) Bischoff, B., ‘Die europaïsche Verbreitung der Werke Isidorien von Sevilla’, in Isidoriana, ed. Díaz y Díaz, pp. 317–44 [reprinted in idem, Mittelalterliche Studien I (Stuttgart, 1966), pp. 171–94] ——, Die südostdeutschen Schreibschulen und Bibliotheken in der Karolingerzeit, I – Die bayerischen Diözesen, 3rd edn (Wiesbaden, 1974), II – Die vorwiegend österreichischen Diözesen (Wiesbaden, 1980) ——, Latin Palaeography: Antiquity and the Middle Ages, trans. D. Ó Cróinín and D. Ganz (Cambridge, 1990) ——, Manuscripts and Libraries in the Ages of Charlemagne, trans. M. Gorman (Cambridge, 1994) Boethius: His Life, Thought and Influence, ed. M. Gibson (Oxford, 1981) Bonnet, M., Le latin de Grégoire de Tours (Paris, 1890).

Select Bibliography 187 Borgolte, M., Die Gesandtenaustausch der Karolinger mit den Abbasiden und mit den Patriarchen von Jerusalem (Munich, 1976) Bourdieu, P., Distinctions. A Social Critique of the Judgement of Taste, trans. R. Nice (Cambridge, MA, 1984) Bright, D.F., ‘Intellectual continuity in Vandal North Africa’, in From Hanibal to Saint Augustine: Ancient Art of North Africa from the Musée du Louvre, ed. M. Seefried-Brouillet (Atlanta, 1994), pp. 131–4 ——, The Miniature Epic of Vandal Africa (Norman and London, 1987) Brown, P., ‘Christianity and local culture in late Roman North Africa’, Journal of Roman Studies 58 (1968), pp. 85–95 [reprinted in idem, Religion and Society in the Age of Saint Augustine (New York, 1972), pp. 279–300] ——, ‘In Gibbon’s shade’, New York Review of Books 23 (1976), pp. 14–18 [reprinted in idem, Society and the Holy in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Los Angeles and Oxford, 1982), pp. 49–62] ——, Augustine of Hippo: A Biography, rev. edn (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 2000) ——, The Rise of Western Christendom: Triumph and Diversity, A.D. 200–1000, 2nd edn (Oxford, 2003) ——, The World of Late Antiquity (London, 1971) Brown, W., Unjust Seizure: Conflict, Interest, and Authority in An Early Medieval Society (Ithaca and London, 2001) Brubaker, L., ‘Memories of Helena: patterns in imperial female matronage in the fourth century’, in Women, Men and Eunuchs: Gender in Byzantium, ed. L. James (London and New York, 1997), pp. 52–75 Brubaker, L., and Haldon, J., Byzantium in the Iconoclast Era (c. 680–850): The Sources: An Annotated Survey (Aldershot, 2001) Brühl, C., ‘Das merowingische Königtum in Spiegel seiner Urkunden’, in La Neustrie, ed. Atsma, I, pp. 523–33 ——, ‘Remarques sur les notions de “capitale” et de “residence” pendant le haut Moyen Age’, Journal des Savantes (1967), pp. 193–215 [reprinted in idem, Aus Mittelalter und Diplomatik. Gesammelte Aufsätze, 3 vols (Munich and Zurich, 1989–1997), I, pp. 115–35] ——, Studien zu den merowingischen Königsurkunden, ed. T. Kölzer (Cologne, Weimar and Vienna, 1998) Brunhölzl, F., Histoire de la littérature latine du Mooyen Age, I – De Casiodore à la fin de la renaissance carolingienne; 1 – L’époque mérovingienne, trans. H. Rochais, with a bibliographical update by J.-P. Bouhot (Turnhout, 1990); 2 – L’époque carolingienne, trans. H. Rochais, with a bibliographical update by J.-P. Bouhot (Turnhout, 1991) Bullough, D.A., ‘Aula renovata: the Carolingian court before the Aachen palace’, in idem, Carolingian Renewal: Sources and Heritage (Manchester, 1991), pp. 123–60 [an earlier version of this paper was published in Proceedings of the British Academy 71 (1985), pp. 267–301] ——, ‘I vescovi di Pavia nei secoli ottavo e nono: fonti e cronologia’, in Atti del 4 Congresso internazionale di Studi sull’Alto medioevo (Spoleto, 1969), pp. 317–28 ——, ‘Reminiscence and reality: text, translation and testimony of an Alcuin letter’, Journal of Medieval Latin 5 (1995), pp. 174–201 ——, ‘Urban changes in early medieval Italy: the example of Pavia’, Papers of the British School at Rome 34 (1966), pp. 82–130 Bumke, J., Courtly Culture: Literature and Society in the High Middle Ages, trans. T. Dunlap (Berkeley, Los Angeles and Oxford, 1991)

188 Select Bibliography Burns, T., A History of the Ostrogoths (Bloomington and Indianapolis, 1984) Cambridge Ancient History, XIII – The Later Empire, A.D. 337–425, ed. A. Cameron and P. Garnsey (Cambridge, 1998); XIV – Late Antiquity: Empire and Successors, A.D. 425–600, ed. A. Cameron, B. Ward-Perkins and M. Whitby (Cambridge, 2000) Cambridge History of Classical Literature, II – Latin Literature, ed. E.J. Kenney and W.V. Clausen (Cambridge, 1982) Cameron, Alan, ‘The date and identity of Macrobius’, Journal of Roman Studies 56 (1966), pp. 25–38 ——, Claudian: Poetry and Propaganda at the Court of Honorius (Oxford, 1980) Cameron, Averil, ‘Byzantine Africa – the literary evidence’, in Excavations at Carthage, VII, ed. Humphrey, pp. 29–62 ——, ‘Paganism and literature in fourth-century Rome’, in Christianisme et formes littéraires, Entretiens sur l’Antiquité classique 23 (Geneva, 1977), pp. 1–40 ——, Procopius and the Sixth Century (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1985) Carolingian Culture: Emulation and Innovation, ed. R. McKitterick (Cambridge, 1994) Castagna, L., Studi Draconziani (1912–1996) (Naples, 1997) Cavadini, J.C., The Last Christology of the West: Adoptionism in Spain and Gaul, 785–820 (Philadelphia, 1993) Cazier, P., Isidore de Séville et la naissance de l’Espagne catholique (Paris, 1994) Chadwick, H., Boethius: The Consolation of Music, Logic, Theology and Philosophy (Oxford, 1981) Chalon, M., Devallet, G., Force, P., Griffe, M., Lassère, J.-M. and Michaud, J.-N., ‘Memorabilia factum: Une célébration de l’évergétisme des rois vandales dans l’Anthologie Latine’, Antiquités africaines 21 (1985), pp. 207–62 Charlemagne and His Heritage: 1200 Years of Civilisation and Science in Europe, ed. P. Butzer, M. Kerner and W. Oberschelp, 2 vols (Turnhout, 1997) Charlemagne: Empire and Society, ed. J. Story (Manchester, 2005) Chastagnol, A. and Duval, N., ‘Les survivances du culte imperial dans l’Afrique du Nord à l’époque vandale’, in Mélanges d’histoire ancienne offerts à William Stenton (Paris, 1974), pp. 78–118 Christensen, A.S., Cassiodorus, Jordanes and the History of the Goths: Studies in a Migration Myth (Copenhagen, 2002) Christie, N., The Lombards (Oxford, 1995) Classen, P., Kaisarreskript und Königsurkunde. Diplomatische Studien zum Problem der Kontinuität zwischen Altertum und Mittelalter, Byzantina Keimena Kai Meletai 15 (Thessalonica, 1977) ——, Karl der Große, das Papsttum und Byzanz: Die Begründung des karolingischen Kaisertums, Baiträge zur Geschichte und Quellenkunde des Mittelalters 9 (Sigmaringen, 1985) Claude, D., ‘Probleme der vandalischen Herrschaftsnachfolge’, Deutsche Archiv 30 (1974), pp. 329–55 Clot, A., Harun al-Rashid and the World of the Thousand and One Nights, trans. J. Howe (New York, 1989) Clover, F.M., ‘Carthage and the Vandals’, in Excavations at Carthage, VII, ed. Humphrey, pp. 1–22 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. VI] ——, ‘Carthage in the Age of Augustine’, in Excavations at Carthage 1976, Conducted by the University of Michigen, IV, ed. J.H. Humphrey (Ann Arbor, 1978), pp. 1–14 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. V]

Select Bibliography 189 ——, ‘Emperor worship in Vandal Africa’, in Romanitas – Christianitas: Untersuchungen zur Geschichte und Literatur der römischen Kaiserzeit, ed. G. Wirth (Berlin, 1982), pp. 661–74 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. VII] ——, ‘Felix Karthago’, in Tradition and Innovation in Late Antiquity, ed. F.M. Clover and R.S. Humphreys (Madison, 1989), pp. 129–69 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. IX] ——, ‘The symbiosis of Romans and Vandals in Africa’, in Das Reich und die Barbaren, ed. E. Chrysos and A. Schwarcz, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 29 (Vienna and Cologne, 1989), pp. 57–72 [reprinted in idem, The Late Roman West, ch. X] ——, The Late Roman West and the Vandals (Aldershot, 1993) Codices Latini Antiquiores: A Palaeographical Guide to Latin Manuscripts Prior to the Ninth Century, 11 vols. with a supplement (Oxford, 1935–71; 2nd edn of vol. II, 1972) Collins, R., Charlemagne (London and Toronto, 1998) ——, Early Mdieval Spain: Unity in Diversity, 400–1000, 2nd edn (London, 1995) ——, Fredegar, Authors of the Middle Ages 13 (Aldershot, 1996) ——, The Arab Conquest of Spain, 710–797 (Oxford, 1989) ——, Visigothic Spain (Oxford, 2004) Columbanus: Studies on the Latin Writings, ed. M. Lapidge, Studies in Celtic History 17 (Woodbridge, 1997) Columbanuus and Merovingian Monasticism, ed. H.B. Clark and M. Brennan, British Archaeological Reports, International Series 113 (Oxford, 1981) Conant, J.P., ‘Literacy and private documentation in Vandal North Africa: the case of the Albertini Tablets’, in Vandals, Romans and Bebers, ed. Merrills, pp. 199–234 ——, Staying Roman: Vandals, Moors, and Byzantines in Late Antique North Africa, 400–700 (Unpublished PhD Dissertation, Harvard University; Cambridge, MA, 2004) Contreni, J.J., “‘Building mansions in Heaven”: The Visio Baronti, Archangel Raphael, and a Carolingian King’, Speculum 78 (2003), pp. 673–706 Courtney, E., ‘Observations of the Latin Anthology’, Hermathena 129 (1980), pp. 37–50 Courtois, C., ‘L’avèment de Clovis II et les régles d’accession au trône chez les Mérovingiens’, in Mélanges d’histoire du Moyen Age dédiés à la mémoire de Louis Halphen (Paris, 1951), pp. 155–64 ——, Les Vandales et l’Afrique (Paris, 1955) ——, Victor de Vita et son oeuvre: étude critique (Algiers, 1954) Croke, B., ‘A.D. 476, the manufacture of a turning point’, Chiron 13 (1983), pp. 81–119 [reprinted in idem, Christian Chronicles and Byzantine History (London, 1992), ch. V] ——, ‘Cassiodorus and the Getica of Jordanes’, Classical Philology 82 (1987), pp. 117–34 Debus, K.H., ‘Studien zu merowingischen Urkunden und Briefen. Untersuchungen und Texte (Zweiter Teil)’, Archiv für Diplomatik 14 (1968), pp. 1–192 Deichmann, F.W., Ravenna, 6 vols (Wiesbaden, 1958–89) Delogu, P., An Introduction to Medieval History, trans. M. Moran (London, 2002) Depeyrot, G., Richesse et société chez les mérovingiens et carolingiens (Paris, 1994) Der Dynastiewechsel von 751: Vorgeschichte, Legitimationsstrategien und Erinnerung, ed. M. Becher and J. Jarnut (Münster, 2004)

190 Select Bibliography Diaz de Bustamante, J.M., Draconcio y sus carmina profana: estudio biografico, introduccion y edicion critica (Santiago de Compostela, 1978) Díaz y Díaz, M.C., ‘El misterio de un eclipse y otras notas más. Para una historia del Códice Ovetense, Escorial R.II.18’, in Homenaje a Don A. Millares Carlo, 2 vols (Las Palmas, 1975), I, pp. 159–69 ——, ‘Eremitical life in Visigothic Spain’, Classical Folia 23 (1969), pp. 209–27 [reprinted in idem, Vie chrétienne et culture dans l’Espagne du VIIe au Xe siècles (Aldershot, 1992), ch. VII] ——, Los Capitolos sobre los metales de las Etimologías de Isidoro de Sevilla (León, 1970) Die Bajwaren. Von Severin bis Tassilo, 488–788, ed. H. Dannheimer and H. Dopsch (Rosenheim and Salzburg, 1988) Dierkens, A., ‘Saint Amand et la fondation de l’abbaye de Nivelles’, Revue du Nord 68 (1986), pp. 325–34 Diesner, H.J., Das Vandalenreich: Aufstieg und Untergang (Stuttgart, Berlin, Cologne and Mainz, 1966) ——, Die Auswirkungen der Religionspolitik Thrasamund und Hilderichs aus Ostgoten und Byzantiner, Sitzungsberiche der sächsischen Akademie der Wissenschaft zu Leipzig, phil.-hist. Klasse 113.3 (Berlin, 1967) ——, Fulgentius von Ruspe als Theologe und Kirchenpolitiker (Stuttgart, 1966) Dihle, A., Greek and Latin Literature of the Roman Empire from Augustus to Justinian, trans. M. Malzahn (London and New York, 1994) Ditten, H., ‘Zu Prokop Nachrichten über die deutschen Stämme’, Byzantinoslavica 36 (1971), pp. 1–24 Drews, M., The Unknown Neighbour: The Jews in the Thought of Isidore of Seville, The Medieval Mediterranean 59 (Leiden and Boston, 2006) Durliat, J., ‘Les attributions civiles de l’évêques mérovingiens: l’example de Didier, évêque de Cahors (630–655)’, Annales du Midi 91 (1979), pp. 237–54 Duval, Y., ‘L’Afrique: Aurelius et Augustin’, in Histoire du christianisme des origins à nos jours, II – Naissance d’une chrétienté (250–430), ed. C. Pietri and L. Pietri (Paris, 1995), pp. 799–812 Ebling, H., Prosopographie der Amtstäger des Merowingerreichs von Chlothar II (613) bis Karl Martell (741), Beihefte der Francia 2 (Munich, 1974) Edward Gibbon and Empire, ed. R. McKitterick and R. Quinault (Cambridge, 1997). Edward Gibbon and the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ed. G.W. Bowersock, J. Clive and S.R. Graubard (Cambridge, MA, 1977) Edwards, M.J., ‘Dracontius the African and the fate of Rome’, Latomus 63 (2004), pp. 151–60 El-Hibri, T., Reinterpreting Islamic Historiography: Harun al-Rashid and the Narrative of the Abbasid Caliphate (Cambridge, 1999) Elsner, J., Imperial Rome and Christian Triumph: The Art of the Roman Empire, AD 100–450 (Oxford, 1998) Ensslin, W., Theoderich der Große, 2nd edn (Munich, 1959) Erzbischof Arn von Salzburg, ed. M. Niederkorn-Bruck and A. Scharer, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichiche Geschichtsforschung 40 (Vienna and Munich, 2004) Everett, N., Literacy in Lombard Italy, c. 568–774 (Cambridge, 2003) Ewig, E., ‘Das Privileg des Bischofs Berthefrid von Amiens für Corbie von 664 und die Klosterpolitik der Königin Balthild’, Francia 1 (1973), pp. 63–114 [reprinted in idem, Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien, II, pp. 538–83]

Select Bibliography 191 ——, ‘Die fränkische Teilreiche im 7. Jahrhundert (613–714)’, Trierer Zeitschrift 22 (1953), pp. 85–144 [reprinted in idem Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien, I, pp. 172–230] ——, ‘Die fränkischen Teilungen und Teilreiche (511–613)’, Akademie der Wissenschaften und der Literatur, Abhandlungen der Geistes- und sozialwissenschaftlichen Klasse 9 (1952), pp. 651–715 [reprinted in idem Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien, I, pp. 114–71] ——, ‘La prière pour le roi et le royaume dans les privilèges épiscopaux de l’époque mérovingienne’, in Mélanges offerts à Jean Dauvillier (Toulouse, 1979), pp. 255–67 ——, ‘Résidence et capitale pendant le haut Moyen Age’, in Revue historique 230 (1963), pp. 25–72 [reprinted in idem, Spätantikes und frankisches Gallien, I, pp. 362–408] ——, ‘Zum christlichen Köningsgedanken im Frühmittelalter’, in Das Königtum: Seine geistigen und rechtlichen Grundlagen, ed. T. Mayer, Vorträge und Forschungen 3 (Sigmaringen, 1954), pp. 7–73 [reprinted in idem, Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien, I, pp. 3–71] ——, Die Merowinger und das Frankenreich, 2nd edn (Stuttgart, Berlin and Cologne, 1993) ——, Spätantikes und fränkisches Gallien. Gesammelte Aufzätze zur merowingischen Geschichte (1952–1973), ed. H. Atsma, 2 vols, Beihefte der Francia 3 (Darmstadt, 1976–9) Excavation at Carthage, Conducted by the University of Michigan, 7 vols (Ann Arbor, 1975–8) Excavations at Carthage, the British Mission, 4 vols in 2 (Sheffield and Oxford, 1984–94) Fifth-Century Gaul: A Crisis of Identity?, ed. J. Drinkwater and H. Elton (Cambridge, 1992) Fontaine, J., ‘King Sisebut’s Vita Desiderii and the political function of Visigothic hagiography’, in Visigothic Spain: New Approaches, ed. E. James (Oxford, 1980), pp. 93–129 ——, Isidore de Séville et la culture classique dans l’Espagne wisigothique, 2nd edn, 3 vols (Paris, 1983) ——, Isidore de Séville: Genèse et originalité de la culture hispanique au temps des Wisigoths (Turnhout, 2000) Fontaine, J, Lancel, S., Langlois, P., Mandouze, A. and Brackmann, H., ‘Africa II (literaturgeschichtlich)’, in Reallexikon für Antike und Christentum. Sachwörterbuch zur Auseinandersetzung des Christentums mit der antiken Welt, ed. T. Klauser et al., Supp. 1.2 (Stuttgart, 1985), pp. 134–228 Fouracre, P., ‘Eternal light and earthly needs: practical aspects of the development of Frankish immunities’, in Property and Power in the Early Middle Ages, ed. W. Davies and P. Fouracre (Cambridge, 1995), pp. 53–81 ——, ‘Merovingian History and Merovingian Hagiography’, Past and Present 127 (1990), pp. 3–38 ——, ‘Observations on the outgrowth of Pippinid influence in the “Regum Francorum” after the battle of Tertry (687–715)’, Medieval Prosopography 5 (1984), pp. 1–31 ——, ‘The origins of the nobility in Francia’, in Nobles and Nobility in Medieval Europe: Concepts, Origins, Transformations, ed. A.J. Duggan (Woodbridge, 2000), pp. 17–24

192 Select Bibliography ——, ‘The work of Audeoinus of Rouen and Eligius of Noyon in extending episcopal influence from town to the country in seventh-century Neustria’, in The Church in Town and Countryside, ed. D. Baker, Studies in Church History 16 (Oxford, 1979), pp. 77–91 ——, The Age of Charles Martel (London and New York, 2000) Freeman, A., Theodulf of Orléans: Charlemagne’s Spokesman against the Second Council of Nicaea (Aldershot, 2003) Frend, W.H.C., The Donatist Church: A Movement of Protest in Roman North Africa, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1985) ——, The Rise of the Monophysite Movement (Cambridge, 1972) Galonnier, A., ‘Anecdoton Holderi ou Ordo generis Cassiodororum: Introduction, édition, traduction et commentaire’, Antiquité tardive 4 (1996), pp. 299–312 Garland, L., Byzantine Empresses: Women and Power in Byzantium, AD 527–1204 (London and New York, 1999) Garnsey, P. and Humfress, C., The Evolution of the Late Antique World (Cambridge, 2001) Garrison, M., ‘Letters to a king and biblical exempla: the examples of Cathuulf and Clemens Peregrinus’, Early Medieval Europe 7 (1998), pp. 305–28 ——, ‘The English and the Irish at the court of Charlemagne’, in Charlemagne and his Heritage, ed. Butzer, Kerner and Oberschelp, I, pp. 97–123 ——, ‘The Franks as the new Israel? Education for an identity from Pippin to Charlemagne’, in The Uses of the Past, ed. Hen and Innes, pp. 114–61 ——, ‘The missa pro principe of the Bobbio Missal’, in The Bobbio Missal, ed. Hen and Meens, pp. 187–205 Geary, P.J., Before France and Germany: The Creation and Transformation of the Merovingian World (New York and Oxford, 1988) ——, Phantoms of Remmebrance. Memory and the Oblivion at the End of the First Millenium (Princeton, 1994) George, J.W., Venantius Fortunatus: A Poet in Merovingian Gaul (Oxford, 1992) Gerberding, R., The Rise of the Carolingians and the Liber Historiae Francorum (Oxford, 1987) Gil, M., A History of Palestine, 634–1099, trans. E. Broido (Cambridge, 1992) Gillett, A., ‘The purposes of Cassiodorus’ Variae’, in After Rome’s Fall, ed. Murray, pp. 37–50 ——, Envoys and Political Communication in the Late Antique West, 411–533 (Cambridge, 2003) Godding, R., Prêtres en Gaule mérovingienne, Subsidia hagiographica 82 (Brussels, 2001) Godman, P., Poets and Emperors: Frankish politics and Carolingian Poetry (Oxford, 1987) Goffart, W., ‘Jordanes’ Getica and the disputed authenticity of Gothic origins from Scandinavia’, Speculum 80 (2005), pp. 379–98 ——, Barbarians and Romans, A.D. 418–584: The Techniques of Accommodation (Princeton, 1980), pp. 231–4. ——, The Narrators of Barbarian History (A.D. 550–800): Jordanes, Gregory of Tours, Bede, and Paul the Deacon (Princeton, 1988) Gorman, M., ‘Peter of Pisa and the Quaestiunculae copied for Charlemagne in Brussels II 2572’, Revue bénédictine 111 (2001), pp. 238–60 Grahn-Hoek, H., Die fränkische Oberschicht im 6. Jahrhundrt. Studien zur ihrer rechtlichen und politische Stellung (Sigmaringen, 1976)

Select Bibliography 193 Grierson, P., ‘The Carolingian empire in the eyes of Byzantium’, in Nascita dell’Europa ed Europa carolingia: un’equazione da verificare, Settimane 27 (Spoleto, 1981), pp. 885–916 ——, Catalogue of the Byzantine Coins in the Dumbarton Oaks Collection, 5 vols (Washington, DC, 1966–73) Gryson, R., Le receuil arien de Vérone (ms. LI de la Bibliothèque Capitulaire et feuillets inédits de la collection Giustiniani Recanati): Étude codicologiqe et paléographique, Instrumenta Patristica XIII (Steenbrugge and The Hague, 1982) Gryson, R. and Gilissen, L., ‘Paléographie et critique littéraire: réflexions méthodologiques à propos du Parisinus latinus 8907’, Scriptorium 35 (1981), pp. 334–40 ——, Les scolies ariennes du Parisinis latinus 8907: un échantillonage d’écriture latines du Ve siècle (Trunhout, 1980) Gutas, D., Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early Abbasid Society (2nd–4th/8th–10th centuries) (London and New York, 1998) Haldon, J., Byzantium in the Seventh Century: The Transformation of a Culture (Cambridge, 1990) Halsall, G., Settlement and Social Organisation: The Merovingian Region of Metz (Cambridge, 1995) Hammond-Bammel, C.P., ‘From the school of Maximinus: the Arian material in Paris MS lat. 8907, Journal of Theological Studies 31 (1980), pp. 391–402 Handley, M.A., ‘Disputing the end of African Christianity’, in Vandals, Romans and Bebers, ed. Merrills, pp. 291–310 Happ, H., Luxurius. Teste, Untersuchungen, Kommentar, 2 vols (Stuttgart, 1986) Hardt, M., ‘The Bavarians’, in Regna et Gentes, ed. Jarnut et al., pp. 429–61 Harries, J., Sidonius Apollinaris and the Fall of Rome (Oxford, 1994). Hartmann, M., Aufbruch ins Mittelalter: Die Zeit der Merowinger (Darmstadt, 2003) Hartmann, W., Die Synoden der Karolingerzeit im Frankenreich und Italien (Paderborn, 1989) Hays, G., ‘The date and identity of the Mythographer Fulgentius’, Journal of Medieval Latin 13 (2003), pp. 163–252 Heather, P., ‘Cassiodorus and the rise of the Amals: genealogy and the Goths under Hun domination’, Journal of Roman Studies 79 (1989), pp. 103–28 ——, ‘The crossing of the Danube and the Gothic conversion’, Greek, Roman and Byzantine Studies 27 (1986), pp. 289–318 ——, ‘The historical culture of Ostrogothic Italy’, in Teoderico il Grande, pp. 317–53 ——, ‘Theoderic, king of the Goths’, Early Medieval Europe 4 (1995), pp. 145–73 ——, Goths and Romans, 332–489 (Oxford, 1991) ——, The Fall of the Roman Empire: A New History (London, 2005) ——, The Goths (Oxford, 1996) Heather, P. and Matthews, J., The Goths in the Fourth Century (Liverpool, 1991) Heidrich, I., ‘Les maires du palais neustriens du milieu du VIIe au milieu du VIIIe siècle’, in La Neustrie, ed. Atsma, I, pp. 217–29 Heinzelmann, M., ‘L’aristocratie et les évêchés entre Loire et Rhin jusqu’à la fin du VIIe siècle’, Revue d’histoire de l’Église de France 168 (1976), pp. 75–90 [reprinted with updated bibliography in La christianisation des pays entre Loire et Rhin (IVe–VIIe siècle), ed. P. Riché, Histoire religieuse de la France 2 (Paris, 1993), pp. 75–90 and 260–1]

194 Select Bibliography ——, Bischofsherrschaft in Gallien. Zur Kontinuität römischer Führungsschichten vom 4. bis zum 7. Jahrhundert. Soziale, prosopographische und bildungsgeschichte Aspekte, Beihefter der Francia 5 (Sigmaringen, 1976) ——, Gregory of Tours: History and Society in the Sixth Century, trans. C. Carroll (Cambridge, 2001) Hen, Y., ‘Changing places: Chrodobert, Boba, and the wife of Grimoald’ (in press) ——, ‘Charlemagne and the Holy Land’, in Einhard: Life of Charlemagne, trans. with introduction, commentary and appendices Y. Hen (Tel Aviv, 2005), pp. 79–91 [in Hebrew] ——, ‘Holy Land pilgrims from Frankish Gaul’, Revue belge de philologie et d’histoire 76 (1998), pp. 291–306 ——, ‘Les authentique des reliques de la Terre Sainte en Gaul franque’, Le Moyen Age 105 (1999), pp. 71–90 ——, ‘The Annals of Metz and the Merovingian Past’, in The Uses of the Past, ed. Hen and Innes, pp. 175–90 ——, ‘The Christianisation of Kingship’, in Der Dynastiewechsel von 751, ed. Becher and Jarnut, pp. 163–77 ——, ‘The structure and aims of the Visio Baronti’, Journal of Theological Studies 47 (1996), pp. 477–97 ——, ‘The uses of the Bible and the perception of kingship in Merovingian Gaul’, Early Medieval Europe 7 (1998), pp. 277–90 ——, Culture and Religion in Merovingian Gaul, AD 481–751 (Leiden, New York and Cologne, 1995) ——, The Royal Patronage of Liturgy in Frankish Gaul to the Death of Charles the Bald (877), Henry Bradshaw Society, subsidia 3 (London, 2001) Herrin, J., Women in Purple: Rulers of Medieval Byzantium (London, 2001) Herrschaft und Kirche. Beiträge zu Entstehung und Wirkungsweise episkopaler und monasticher Organisationformen, ed. F. Prinz, Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 33 (Stuttgart, 1988) Hillgarth, J.N., ‘Historiography in Visigothic Spain’, in La storiographia altomedievale, Settimane 17 (1970), pp. 261–311 [reprinted in idem, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and the Irish, ch. III]. ——, ‘Ireland and Spain in the seventh century’, Peritia 3 (1984), pp. 1–16 [reprinted in idem, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and Irish, ch. VIII] ——, ‘Isidorian Studies’, Studi Medievali 31 (1990), pp. 925–73 ——, ‘The East, Visigothic Spain and the Irish’, Studia Patristica 4 (1961), pp. 442–56 [reprinted in idem, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and Irish, ch. VI] ——, ‘The position of Isidorian studies: a critical review of literature, 1936–1975’, Studi Medievali 24 (1983), pp. 817–905 ——, ‘Visigothic Spain and early Christian Ireland’, Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy 62 (1962), pp. 167–94 [reprinted in idem, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and Irish, ch. VII] ——, Visigothic Spain, Byzantium and the Irish (London, 1985) Histoire de l’Afrique romaine, 146 avant J.-C. – 439 après J.-C., ed. Y. Le Bohec (Paris, 2005) Historiographie im frühen Mittelalter, ed. A. Scharer and G. Scheibelreiter, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 32 (Vienna and Munich, 1994) Holum, K.G., Theodosian Empresses: Women and Imperial Dominion in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1982)

Select Bibliography 195 Hudson, P., ‘Pavia: l’evoluzione urbanistica di una capitale altomedievale’, in Storia di Pavia, 2 vols (Pavia, 1987), II, pp. 237–315 Hugoniot, C., Rome en Afrique. De la chut de Carthage aux debus de la conquête arabe (Paris, 2000) Hunter, M.J., ‘The Gothic Bible’, in The Cambridge History of the Bible, II – The West from the Fathers to the Reformation, ed. G.W.H. Lampe (Cambridge, 1969), pp. 338–62 Il Friuli e l’Istria al tempo di San Paulino d’Aquileia, ed. G. Cuscito (Trieste, 2003) Isidoriana: coleción de estudios sobre Isidoro de Sevilla, ed. M.C. Díaz y Díaz (León, 1961) Jahn, J., Ducatus Baiwariorum. Das Bairische Herzogtum der Agilolfinger (Stuttgart, 1991) Jarnut, J., ‘Beiträge zu den fränkische-bayerisch-langobardischen Beziehungen im 7. und 8. Jahrhundert (656–728)’, Zeitschrift für bayerische Landesgeschichte 39 (1976), pp. 331–52 [reprited in idem, Herrschaft und Ethnogenese, pp. 67–88] ——, ‘Genealogie und politische Bedeutung der agilolfingischen Herzöge’, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 99 (1991), pp. 1–22 [reprinted in Herrschaft und Ethnogenese, pp. 139–60] ——, Agilolfingerstudien. Untersuchungen zur Geschichte einer adlingen Familie im 6. und 7. Jahrhundert, Monographien zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 32 (Stuttgart, 1988) ——, Geschichte der Langobarden (Stuttgart, 1982) ——, Herrschaft und Ethnogenese im Frühmittelalter. Gesammelte Aufzätze von Jörg Jarnut, Festgabe zum 60. Geburtstag, ed. M. Becher (Paderborn, 2002) Johnson, M.J., ‘Towards a history of Theoderic’s building program’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers 42 (1988), pp. 73–96 Kaldellis, A., Procopius of Caesarea: Tyranny, History, and Philosophy at the End of Antiquity (Philadelphia, 2004) Katz, S., The Jews in the Visigothic and Frankish Kingdoms of Spain and Gaul (Cambridge, 1937) Kay, N.M., Epigrams from the Anthologia Latina. Text, Translation and Commentary (London, 2006) Kennedy, H., Muslim Spain and Portugal: A Political History of al-Andalus (London and New York, 1996) ——, The Court of the Caliphs: When Baghdad Ruled the Muslim World (London, 2004) ——, The Prophet and the Age of the Caliphates: The Islamic Near East from the Sixth to the Eleventh Century (London and New York, 1986) Kennell, S.A.H., Magnus Felix Ennodius, A Gentleman of the Church (Ann Arbor, 2000) King, P.D., ‘The barbarian kingdoms’, in The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought, c.350-c.1450, ed. J.H. Burns (Cambridge, 1988), pp. 123–53 ——, Law and Society in Visigothic Spain (Cambridge, 1972) Kitzinger, E., ‘Artistic patronage in Early Byzantium’, in Committenti e produzione, Settimane 39 (Spoleto, 1992), pp. 35–56 Koeppler, H., ‘De viris illustribus and Isidore of Seville’, Journal of Theological Studies 37 (1936), pp. 16–34 Koller, H., ‘Die bairische Kirchenorganisation des 8. Jahrhunderts: Ansätze, Konzepte, Verwirklichung’, in Das Christentum im bairischen Raum von den

196 Select Bibliography Anfängen bis ins 11. Jahrhundert, ed. E. Boshof and H. Wolff, Passauer historische Forschungen 8 (Cologne and Vienna, 1994), pp. 273–89 Kölzer, T., ‘Die letzten Merowinger: rois fainéants?’, in Der Dynastiewechsel von 751, ed. Becher and Jarnut, pp. 33–60 Krautschick, S., Cassiodor und die Politik seiner Zeit (Bonn, 1983) Kuijper, D., Varia Dracontiana (The Hague, 1958) Kurth, G., Études franques, 2 vols (Brussels, 1919) La Neustrie: les pays au nord de la Loire de 650 à 850, ed. H. Atsma, 2 vols, Beihefter der Francia 16 (Sigmaringen, 1989) Laistner, M.L.W., Thought and Letters in Western Europe, A.D. 500 to 900, rev. edn (London, 1957) Lapeyre, G.-G., Saint Fulgence de Ruspe: Un évêque catholique africain sous la domination vandale (Paris, 1929) Lapidge, M., ‘An Isidorian epitome from Anglo-Saxon England’, Romanobarbarica 10 (1988–9), pp. 443–83 [reprinted in idem, Anglo-Latin Literature, 600–899 (London and Rio Grande, 1996), pp. 183–223] Latin and the Romance Languages in the Early Middle Ages, ed. R. Wright (London and New York, 1991) Lepelley, C., ‘Quelques parvenus de la culture de l’Afrique romaine tardive’, in De Tertullien aux Mozarabes. Mélanges offerts à Jacques Fontaine Membre de l’Institut à l’occasion de son 70e anniversaire, par ses èleves, amis et collègues, ed. L. Holz and J.-C. Fredouille, 2 vols (Paris, 1992), I, pp. 583–94 ——, ‘The survival and fall of the classical city in Late Roman Africa’, in The City in Late Antiquity, ed. J. Rich (London and New York, 1992), pp. 50–76 [reprinted in idem, Aspects de l’Afrique romaine: les cités, la vie rurale, le crhistianisme (Bari, 2001), pp. 85–104] ——, Les cités de l’Afrique romaine au bas-empire, 2 vols (Paris, 1979–81) Levillain, L., ‘Études sur l’abbaye de Saint-Denis à l’époque mérovingienne’, Bibliothèque de l’École des Chartes 86 (1925), pp. 5–99 Levison, W., England and the Continent in the Eighth Century (Oxford, 1946) Leyser, C., “‘This sainted isle”: panegyric, nostalgia, and the invention of Lerinian monasticism’, in The Limits of Christianity: Essays on Late Antique Thought and Culture in Honour of R.A. Markus, ed. W.E. Klingshirn and M. Vessey (Ann Arbor, 1999), pp. 188–214 Liebeschuetz, J.H.W.G., ‘Gens into regnum: the Vandals’, in Regna and Gentes, ed. Goetz, Jarnut and Pohl, pp. 55–83. ——, The Decline and Fall of the Roman City (Oxford, 2001) Löwe, H., ‘Salzburg als Zentrum literarischen Schaffens im 8. Jahrhundert’, Mitteilungen des Gesellschaft für Salzbueger Landeskunde 115 (1975), pp. 99–143 [reprinted in idem, Religiosität und Bildung im frühen Mittelalter. Ausgewählte Aufsätze, ed. T. Struve (Weimar, 1994), pp. 1–45 Lynch, C.H., Saint Braulio Bishop of Saragossa (631–51): His Life and Writings (Washington DC, 1938) MacCormack, S.G., ‘Change and continuity in Late Antiquity: the ceremony of adventus’, Historia 21 (1972), pp. 721–52 ——, ‘Latin prose panegyrics: tradition and discontinuity in the later Roman Empire’, Revue des études augustiniennes 22 (1976), pp. 29–77 ——, ‘Latin prose panegyrics’, in Empire and Aftermath, ed. T. Dorey (London, 1975), pp. 73–177

Select Bibliography 197 ——, Art and Ceremony in Late Antiquity (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1981) MacMullen, R., Romanisation in the Time of Augustus (New Haven and London, 2000) Macpherson, R., Rome in Involution: Cassiodorus’ Variae in their Literary and Historical Setting (Poznan, 1989) Maier, J.L., Le dossier du Donatisme, Texte und Untersuchungen 134–5 (Berlin, 1987) Mango, C., Byzantium: The Empire of the New Rome (London, 1980) ——, The Art of the Byzantine Empire, 312–1453 (Englewood Cliffs, 1972) Marenbon, J., Boethius (Oxford, 2003) Marrou, H.-I., A History of Education in Antiquity, trans. G. Lamb (Madison, 1956) ——, Saint Augustin et la fin de la culture antique, 4th edn (Paris, 1958) Matthews, J., ‘Anicius Manlius Severinus Boethius’, in Boethius, ed. Gibson, pp. 15–43 ——, Western Aristocracies and Imperial Court, A.D. 364–425 (Oxford, 1975) Mattingly, D.J. and Hitchner, R.B., ‘Roman Africa: an archaeological review’, Journal of Roman Studies 85 (1995), pp. 165–213 McCormick, M., ‘Les pèlerins occidentaux à Jérusalem, VIIIe-IXe si¯ecles’, in Voyages et voyageurs à Byzance et en occident du VIe au XIe siècles, ed. A. Dierkens, J.-M. Sansterre (Geneva, 2000), pp. 289–306; idem. ——, ‘Pippin III, the embassy to the Caliph al-Mansur, and the Mediterranean world’, in Der Dynastiewechsel von 751, ed. Becher and Jarnut, pp. 221–41 ——, Eternal Victory: Triumphal Rulership in Late Antiquity, Byzantium, and the Early Medieval West (Cambridge, 1986) ——, Origins of European Economy. Communication and Commerce, AD 300–900 (Cambridge, 2001) McCulskey, S.C., Astronomies and Cultures in Early Medieval Europe (Cambridge, 1998) McKitterick, R., ‘Political ideology and Carolingian historiography’, in The Uses of the Past, ed. Hen and Innes, pp. 162–74 ——, ‘Royal patronage of culture in the Frankish kingdoms under the Carolingians: motives and consequences’, in Committenti e produzione artistico-letteraria nell’alto medioevo occidentale, Settimane 39 (Spoleto, 1992), pp. 93–129 [reprinted in eadem, The Frankish Kings and Culture, ch. VII]. ——, ‘Unity and diversity in the Carolingian Church’, in Unity and Diversity in the Church, ed. R.N. Swanson, Studies in Church History 32 (Oxford, 1996), pp. 59–82, at pp. 72–80 ——, History and Memory in the Carolingian World (Cambridge, 1994) ——, The Frankish Church and the Carolingian Reforms, 789–987 (London, 1977) ——, The Carolingians and the Written World (Combridge, 1989). ——, The Frankish Kingdoms under the Carolingians, 751–987 (London and New York, 1983) ——, The Frankish Kings and Culture in the Early Middle Ages (Aldershot, 1994) McKnight-Crosby, S. and Blum, P.Z., The Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis from its Beginnings to the Death of Suger, 475–1151 (New Haven and London, 1987) McLaughlin, M., Consorting with Saints: Prayer for the Dead in Early Medieval France (Ithaca and London, 1994) Merrills, A., ‘The perils of panegyric: the lost poem of Dracontius and its consequences’, in Vandals, Romans and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 145–62

198 Select Bibliography Milazzo, A.M., ‘L’Anecdoton Holderi: Une genere letterario contaminato’, in Cassiodoro: Dalla corte di Ravenna al Vivarium di Squillace. Atti del Convegno Internazionale di Studi, Squillace, 25–27 otobre 1990, ed. S. Leanza (Soveria Mannelli, 1993), pp. 177–89 Modéran, Y., ‘L’Afrique et la persécution vandale’, in Histoire du christianism des origins à nos jours, III – Les Églises d’Orient et d’Occident, ed. L. Pietri (Paris, 1998), pp. 247–78 ——, ‘L’établissement territorial des Vandales en Afrique’, Antiquité tardive 10 (2002), pp. 87–122 ——, ‘La chronologie de la vie de saint Fulgence de Ruspe et ses incidences sur l’histoire de l’Afrique vandale’, Mélanges de l’école française de Rome, Antiquité 105 (1993), pp. 135–88 ——, Les Maures et l’Afrique romaine (IV–VIe siècle), Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athène et de Rome 314 (Rome, 2003) Momigliano, A., ‘Cassiodorus and Italian culture of his time’, in idem, Studies in Historiography (London, 1966), pp. 181–210 [originally published in Proceedings of the British Academy 41 (1955), pp. 207–45] Moorhead, J., ‘Gregory of Tours on the Arian kingdoms’, Studi Medievali 36 (1995), pp. 903–15 ——, ‘Libertas and nomen Romanum in Ostrogothic Italy’, Latomus 46 (1987), 161–8 ——, Theoderic in Italy (Oxford, 1992) Moreira, I., Dreams, Visions and Spiritual Authority in Merovingian Gaul (Ithaca and New York, 2000) Morrison, K.F., “‘Unum ex multis”: Hincmar of Rheims’ medical and aesthetic rationales of unification’, in Nascita dell’Europa ed Europa Carolingia: un’equazione de verificale, Settimane 27 (Spoleto, 1981), pp. 583–712 ——, The Mimetic Tradition of Reform in the West (Princeton, 1982) Musca, G., Carlo Magno e Harun al-Rashid, 2nd edn (Bari, 1996) Nees, l., Early Medieval Art (Oxford, 2002) ——, The Gunhohinus Gospels, Medieval Academy Books 95 (Cambridge, MA, 1987) Nelson, J.L., ‘Making difference in eighth-century politics: the daughters of Desiderius’, in After Rome’s Fall, ed. Murray, pp. 170–90 ——, ‘Queens as Jezebels: the careers of Brunhild and Balthild in Merovingian history’, in Medieval Women, ed. D. Baker, Studies in Church History, subsisia 1 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 31–7 [reprinted in eadem, Politics and Ritual, pp. 1–48] ——, ‘The Lord’s anointed and the people’s choice: Carolingian royal ritual’, in Rituals of Royalty: Power and Ceremonials in Traditional Societies, ed. D. Cannadine and S. Price (Cambridge, 1987), pp. 137–80 [reprinted in eadem, The Frankish World, pp. 99–131] ——, ‘Women at the court of Charlemagne: a case for monstrous regiment?’, in eadem, The Frankish World, pp. 223–42 [originally published in Medieval Queenship, ed. J.C. Parsons (New York, 1993), pp. 43–61] ——, Politics and Ritual in Early Medieval Europe (London, 1986) ——, The Frankish World, 750–900 (London and Rio Grande, 1996) New Constantines: The Rhythm of Imperial Renewal in Byzantium, ed. P. Magdalino (Aldershot, 1994) Norberg, D., L’oeuvre poétique de Paulin d’Aquilée (Stockholm, 1979)

Select Bibliography 199 ——, La poesie latine rythmique du haut Moyen Age (Stockholm, 1954) Nuckolls, C.N., Culture: A Problem that Cannot be Solved (Madison, 1998) O’Donnell, J.J., ‘The aim of Jordanes’, Historia 31 (1982), pp. 223–40 ——, Cassiodorus (Berkeley, 1979) Oexle, O.G., ‘Die Karolinger und die Stadt der heiligen Arnulf’, Frühmittelalterliche Studien 1 (1967), pp. 250–364 Offergeld, T., Reges pueri. Das Königtum Minderjähriger im frühen Mittelalter, MGH Scchriften 50 (Hannover, 2001) On Barbarian Identity: Critical Approaches to Ethnicity in the Early Middle Ages, ed. A. Gillett, Studies in the Early Middle Ages 4 (Turnhout, 2002) Orlandis, J., El poder real y la sucesion al trono en la monarqia visigoda (Rome, 1962) ——, Historia de España: La España Visigótica (Madrid, 1977) ——, La vida en España en tiempo de los Godos (Madrid, 1991) ——, Semblanzas visigodas (Madrid, 1992) Orlandis, J. and Ramos-Lisson, D., Die Synoden auf der Iberischen Halbinsel bis zum Einbruch des Islam (Paderborn, 1981) Oxford Classical Dictionary, ed. S. Hornblower and A. Spawforth, 3rd rev. edn (Oxford, 2003) Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church, ed. F.L. Cross and E.A. Livingsrone, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1997) Paolo Diacono. Uno scrittore fra tradizione longobarda e rinnovamento carolingio, ed. P. Chiesa, Libri Biblioteche 9 (Udine, 2000) Patraschka, E., Fränkischer Adel und irische Peregrini im 7. Jahrhundert (Frankfurt, 1999) Patrologia, VI – Dal Concilio di Calcedonia (451) a Beda, I Padri latini, ed. A. di Berardino (Genova, 1996) Patrology, ed. J. Quasten and A. di Berardino, 4 vols (Utrecht and Westminster, MD, 1950–1986) Périn, P., ‘Paris mérovingien, sedes regiae’, Klio 71 (1989), pp. 487–502 Pietri, L., ‘Venance Fortunat et ses commanditaires: un poète italien dans la société gallo-franque’, in Committenti e produzione artistico-letteraria nell’alto medioevo occidentale, Settimane 39 (Spoleto, 1992), pp. 729–54 Pizarro, J.M., Writing Ravenna: The Liber Pontificalis of Andreas Agnellus (Ann Arbor, 1995) Placanica, A., ‘La Cristianità africana tra Arrianus furor e subreptiones Acephalorum’, in Le invasioni barbariche nel meridione dell’imperio: Visogoti, Vandali, Ostrogoti. Atti del Convegno svoltosi alla Casa delle Culture di Cosenza dal 24 al 26 Iuglio 1998, ed. P. Delogu (Rome, 2001), pp. 181–242 Pohl, W., ‘The Vandals: fragments of narratives’, in Vandals, Romans and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 31–47 Prinz, F., ‘Die Agilolfinger: Bayerns erstes Herzogsgeschlecht’, in Die Herrscher Bayerns. 25 historische Porträts von Tassilo III. bis Ludwig III., ed. D. and K. Weigand (Munich, 2001), pp. 13–28 ——, Frühes Mönchtum im Frankenreich. Kultur und Gesellschaft in Gallien, den Rheinlanden und Bayern am Beispiel der monastischen Entwicklung (4. bis 8. Jahrhundert), 2nd edn (Munich, 1988) Propaganda of Power: The Role of Panegyric in Late Antiquity, ed. M. Whitby (Leiden, 1998) Prosopographie chrétienne du Bas-Empire, I – Prosopographie de l’Afrique chrétienne (305–533), ed. A. Mandouze (Paris, 1982)

200 Select Bibliography Rabello, A.M., ‘Sisebuto re di Spagna (612–621) ed il battesimo forzato’, Rassegna Mensile di Israel 51 (1985), pp. 33–41 Raby, F.J.E., A History of Christian–Latin Poetry from the Beginnings to the Close of the Middle Ages, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1953) Raven, S., Rome in Africa, rev. edn (London and New York, 1985) Recchia, V., ‘Sul Carmen de luna di Sisebuto di Toledo’, Invigilata Lucernis 20 (1998), pp. 201–19 [reprinted in idem, Lettera e profezia nell’esegesi di Gregorio Magno, Quaderni di ‘Invigilata Lucernis’ 20 (Bari, 2003), pp. 137–55] ——, Sisebut di Toledo, Il ‘Carmen de luna’ (Bari, 1971) Regna and Gentes: The Relationship between Late Antique and Early Medieval Peoples and Kingdoms in the Transformation of the Roman World, ed. H.-W. Goetz, J. Jarnut and W. Pohl, The Transformation of the Roman World 13 (Leiden and Boston, 2003) Reuter, T., “‘Kirchenreform” und “Kirchenpolitik” im Zeitalter Karl Martells: Begriefe und Wirklichkeit’, in Karl Martell in seiner Zeit, ed. J. Jarnut et al., Beihefte der Francia 37 (Sigmaringen, 1994), pp. 35–59 Reydellet, M., La royauté dans la literature latine de Sidoine Apollinaire à Isidore de Séville, Bibliothèque des Écoles françaises d’Athènes et de Rome 243 (Rome, 1981) Reynolds, L.D. and Wilson, N.G., Scribes and Scholars: A Guide to the Transmission of Greek and Latin Litterature, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1991) Riché, P., ‘Centres of culture in Frankish Gaul between the 6th and the 9th centuries’, in Early Medieval Society, ed. S. Thrupp (New York, 1967), pp. 211–36 ——, Écoles et enseignement dans lea haut Moyen Age, 2nd edn (Paris, 1989) ——, Education and Culture in the Barbarian West from the Sixth through the Eighth Century, trans. J.J. Contreni (Columbia, SC, 1976) ——, Henri-Irénée Marrou: historien engagé (Paris, 2003) ——, The Carolingians: A Family Who Forged Europe, trans. M.I. Allen (Philadelphia, 1993) Riché, P. and Périn, P., Dictionaire des Francs: les temps mérovingiens (Paris, 1996) Rohr, C., ‘Das Streben des Ostgotenkönigs Theoderichs nach Legitimität und Kontinuität im Spiegel seiner Kulturpolitik. Beobachtungen zu imperialen Elementen im Theoderich-Panegyricus des Ennodius’, in Integration und Herrschaft: Ethnische Identitäten und soziale Organisation im Frühmittelalter, ed. W. Pohl and M. Diesenberger, Forschungen zur Geschichte des Mittelalters 3 (Vienna, 2002), pp. 227–31 ——, ‘Überlegungen zu Datierung und Anlaß des Theoderich-Panegyricus’, in Ethnogenese und Überlieferung. Angewandte Methoden der Frühmittelalterforschung, ed. K. Brunner and B. Merta, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 31 (Vienna and Munich, 1994), pp. 95–106 Romano, D., Studi Draconziani (Palermo, 1959) Rosenblum, M., Luxorius: A Latin Poet among the Vandals, Records of Civilization: Sources and Studies 62 (New York and London, 1961) Rosenwein, B.H., ‘Perennial prayer at Agaune’, in Monks and Nuns, Saints and Outcasts: Religion in Medieval Society: Essays in Honor of Lester K. Little, ed. S. Farmer and B. Rosenwein (Ithaca and London, 2000), pp. 37–56 ——, Emotional Communities in the Early Middle Ages (Ithaca and London, 2006) ——, Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint, and Privileges of Immunity in Early Medieval Europe (Ithaca and Manchester, 1999)

Select Bibliography 201 Roskams, S., ‘Urban transition in North Africa: Roman and medieval towns of the Mahgreb’, in Towns in Transition: Urban Evolution in Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages, ed. N. Christie and S.T. Loseby (Aldershot, 1996), pp. 159–83 Rota, S., Magno Felice Ennodio: Panegirico del Clementissimo re Teoderico (opusc. 1) (Rome, 2002) Rouche, M., ‘Entre civitas et sedes regni: Grégoire de Tours et les espaces politiques de son temps’, in Grégoire de Tours et l’espace gaulois. Actes du congers international, Tours, 3–5 Novembre 1994, ed. N. Gauthier and H. Galinié (Tours, 1997), pp. 179–84 ——, L’Aquitaine des Wisigoths aux Arabes, 418–781: naissance d’une region (Paris, 1979) Rouse, R.H. and M.A., ‘Bibliography before print: the medieval De viris illustribus’, in The Role of the Book in Medieval Culture. Proceedings of the Oxford International Symposium, 26 September–1 October 1982, ed. P. Ganz, 2 vols, Bibliologia 3–4 (Turnhout, 1986), I, pp. 133–53 Rubin, Z., ‘The conversion of the Visigoths to Christianity’, Museum Helveticum 38 (1981), pp. 34–54 Runcimang, S., ‘Empress Irene the Athenian’, in Medieval Womanl, ed. D. Baker, Studies in Church History, subsidia 1 (Oxford, 1978), pp. 101–18 Saitta, B., L’Antisemitismo nella Spagna Visigotica, Studia Historica 130 (Rome, 1995) ——, La civilitas di Teoderico. Rigore amministrativo, ‘toleranza’ religiosa e recupero dell’antico nell’Italia Ostrogotac (Rome, 1993) Schaller, D., ‘Der Dichter des “Carmen de Conversione Saxonum”’, Tradition und Wertung: Festschrift für Franz Brunhölzl, ed. G. Bernt (Sigmaringen, 1989), pp. 27–45 Scharer, A., ‘Duke Tassilo of Bavaria and the origins of the Rupertus Cross’, in Belief and Culture in the Middle Ages: Studies presented to Henry Mayr-Harting (Oxford, 2001), pp. 68–75 Scheibelreiter, G., Der Bischof im merowingischer Zeit, Veröffentlichungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschungen 27 (Vienna, Cologne and Graz, 1983) Schwarcz, A., ‘Bedeutung und textüberlieferung der Historia persecutionis Africanae provinciae des Victor von Vita’, in Historiographie im frühen Mittelalter, ed. Scharer and Scheibelreiter, pp. 115–40 ——, ‘The settlement of the Vandals in North Africa’, in Vandals, Romans and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 49–57 Scribner, R., ‘Is a history of popular culture possible?’, History of European Ideas 10 (1989), pp. 175–91 Sedes regiae (ann. 400–800), ed. G. Ripoll and J.M. Gurt (Barcelona, 2000) Semmler, J., ‘Saint-Denis: von der bischöflichen Coemeterialbasilika zur königlichen Benedictinerabtei’, in La Neustrie, ed. Atsma, II, pp. 75–123 Shackleton-Bailey, D.R., Towards a Text of the ‘Anthologia Latina’, Proceedings of the Cambridge Philological Society, suppl. 5 (Cambridge, 1979) Shanzer, D., ‘Intentions and audiences: history, hagiography, martyrdom, and confession in Victor of Vita’s Historia Persecutionis’, in Vandals, Roman and Berbers, ed. Merrills, pp. 271–90 Shippey, T., ‘The Merov(ich)ingian again: damnatio memoriae and the usus scholarum’, in Latin Learning and English Lore: Studies in Anglo-Saxon Literature for

202 Select Bibliography Michael Lapidge, ed. K. O’Brien O’keffe and A. Orchard, 2 vols (Toronto, Buffalo and London, 2005), I, pp. 389–406 Siems, H., ‘Lex Baiuvariorum’, Handwörterbuch zur deutschen Rechtsgeschichte 2 (1978), pp. 1887–901 Smith, J.M.H., Europe after Rome: A New Cultural History, 500–1000 (Oxford, 2005) Staab, F., ‘Ostrogothic geographers at the court of Theoderic the Great: a study of some sources of the Anonymous Cosmographer of Ravenna’, Viator 7 (1976), pp. 27–64 Stach, W., ‘König Sisebut ein Mäzen des isidorischen Zeitalters’, Die Antike 19 (1943), pp. 63–76 Stevens, S.T., ‘The circle of Bishop Fulgentius’, Traditio 38 (1982), pp. 327–41 Stocking, R.L., Bishops, Councils, and Consensus in the Visigothic Kingdom, 589–633 (Ann Arbor, 2000) Störmer, W., ‘Frühes Christentum in Altbayern, Schwaben und Franken – Römerzeit und Frühmittelalter bis 798’, in Handbuch der Bayerischen Kirchengeschichte, I (St Ottilien, 1998), pp. 36–93 Story, J., Carolingian Connections: Anglo-Saxon England and Carolingain Francia, c. 750–870 (Aldershot, 2003) Suntrup, A., Studien zur politischen Theologie in frühmittelalterlichen Okzident. Die Aussage konziliarer Texte des gallischen und iberischen Raumes, Spanishe Forschungen der Görresgesellschaft 36 (Münster, 2001) Teeuwen, M., Harmony and the Music of the Spheres: The Ars Musica in NinthCentury Commentaries on Martianus Capella, Mittellateinische Studien und Texte 30 (Leiden, Boston and Cologne, 2002), pp. 9–20 Teoderico il Grande e I Goti d’Italia. Atti del XIII Congresso internazionale di studi sull’Alto Medioeveo, Milano 2–6 novembre 1992, 2 vols (Spoleto, 1993) Texts and Transmission: A Survey of the Latin Classics, ed. L.D. Reynolds (Oxford, 1983) The Bobbio Missal: Liturgy and Religious Culture in Merovingian Gaul, ed. Y. Hen and R. Meens (Cambridge, 2004) The Cambridge Companion to Augustine, ed. E. Stump and N. Kretzman (Cambridge, 2001) The Cambridge Companion to the Ages of Constantine, ed. P. Lenski (Cambridge, 2006) The Cambridge Companion to the Ages of Justinian, ed. M. Maas (Cambridge, 2005) The Conflict between Paganism and Christianity in the Fourth Century, ed. A. Momigliano (Oxford, 1963) The Gentle Voices of Teachers: Aspects of Learning in the Carolingian Age, ed. R.E. Sullivan (Columbus, OH, 1995) The Making of England: Anglo-Saxon Art and Culture, AD 600–900, ed. L. Webster and J. Backhouse (London, 1991) The New Cambridge Medieval History, I – c. 500–c. 700, ed. P. Fouracre (Cambridge, 2005); II – c. 700–c. 900, ed. R. McKitterick (Cambridge, 1995) The Oxford History of Byzantium, ed. C. Mango (Oxford, 2002) The Prosopography of the Later Roman Empire, II – A.D. 395–527, ed. J.R. Martindale (Cambridge, 1980) The Sacred Nectar of the Greeks: The Study of Greek in the West in the Early Middle Ages, ed. M. Herrin and S.A. Brown (London, 1988) The Settlement of Disputes in Early Medieval Europe, ed. W. Davies and P. Fouracre (Cambridge, 1986)

Select Bibliography 203 The Uses of Literacy in Early Medieval Europe, ed. R. McKitterick (Cambridge, 1990) The Uses of the Past in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Y. Hen and M. Innes (Cambridge, 2001) The Visigoths, ed. A. Ferreiro, The Medieval Medditeranean 20 (Leiden, Bostorn and Cologne, 1999) The World of Gregory of Tours, ed. K. Mitchell and I.N. Wood (Leiden, Boston and Cologne, 2002) Theis, L., Dagobert. Un roi pour un peuple (Paris, 1982) Thompson, E.A., Romans and Barbarians: The Decline of the Western Empire (Madison, 1982) ——, The Goths in Spain (Oxford, 1969) ——, The Visigoths in the Time of Ulfila (Oxford, 1966) Traube, L., ‘Zur lateinischen Anthologie: Über Gedichte des Codex Salmasianus’, in idem, Vorlesungen und Abhandlungen III (Munich, 1920), pp. 51–9 Treadgold, W., The Byzanrtine Revival, 780–842 (Stanford, 1988) Typen der Ethnogenese unter besonderer Berücksichtigung der Bayern, ed. H. Wolfram and W. Pohl, 2 vols Veröffentlischungen der Kommission für Frühmittelalterforschung 12–13 (Vienna, 1990) Van Dam, R., Saints and Their Miracles in Late Antique Gaul (Princeton, 1993) Van der Lof, L.J., ‘Der Mäzen König Sisebutus und sein “De eclipsi lunae”’, Revue des etudes Augustiniennes 18 (1972), pp. 145–51 Vandals, Romans and Berbers: New Perspectives on Late Antique North Africa, ed. A.H. Merrills (Aldershot, 2004) Vessey, M., ‘Introduction’, in J.W. Halpron and M. Vessey, Cassiodorus: Institutions of Divine and Secular Learning and On the Soul (Liverpool, 2004), pp. 3–101 ——, ‘The demise of the Christian writer and the remaking of “Late Antiquity”: from H.-I. Marrou’s Saint Augustine (1938) to Peter Brown’s Holy Man (1983)’, Journal of Early Christian Studies 6 (1998), pp. 377–411 Virgil von Salzburg: Missionar und Gelehrter, ed. H. Dopsch and R. Juffinger (Salzbueg, 1984) Von Padberg, L.E., Bonifatius: Missionar und Reformer (Munich, 2003) Von Simson, O.G., Sacred Fortresses: Byzantine Art and Statecraft in Ravenna (Chicago, 1948) Vössing, K., ‘Die anthologia Salmasiana, das vandalische Karthago und die Grenzen der Stilanalyse’, in Der Stilbegriff in den Altertumswissenschaften, ed. K. Zimmermann (Rostock, 1993), pp. 149–55 ——, Schule und Bildung im Nordafrika der Römischen Kaiserzeit, Collection Latomus 238 (Brussels, 1997) Wallace-Hadrill, J.M., ‘Early medieval history’, in idem, Early Medieval History (Oxford, 1975), pp. 1–18 ——, The Barbarian West, 400–1000, 3rd edn (Oxford, 1967) ——, The Frankish Church (Oxford, 1983) ——, The Long-Haired Kings (London, 1962) Walters-Robertson, A., The Service-Books of the Royal Abbey of Saint-Denis: Images of Ritual and Music in the Middle Ages (Oxford, 1991) Ward-Perkins, B., From Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages: Urban Public Building in Northern and Central Italy, AD 300–850 (oxford, 1984) ——, The Fall of Rome and the End of Civilization (Oxford, 2005) Weidemann, M., ‘Adelsfamilien im Chlotharreich. Verwandschaftliche Beziehungen der fränkischen Aristokratie im 1. Drittel des 7. Jahrhunderts’, Francia 15 (1987), pp. 829–51

204 Select Bibliography ——, ‘Zur chronologie der Merowinger in 7. und 8. Jahrhundert’, Francia 15 (1998), pp. 177–230 Werner, K.F., ‘La place du VIIe siècle dans l’évolution politique et institutionelle de la Gaule franque’, in The Seventh Century: Change and Continuity. Proceedings of a Joint French and British Colloquium Held at the Warburg Institute 8–9 July 1988, ed. J. Fontaine and J.N. Hillgarth (London, 1992), pp. 173–206 Westeel-Houste, I., ‘Quelques remarques sur la Vita Eligii, Vie de saint Éloi’, Mélanges de science religieuse 56 (1999), pp. 33–47 Wickham, C., Early Medieval Itlay: Central Power and Local Society, 400–1000 (London, 1981) ——, Framing the Early Middle Ages: Europe and the Mediterranean, 400–800 (Oxford, 2005) Wilkinson, J., Jerusalem Pilgrims Before the Crusades (Warminster, 1977) Wolfram, H., ‘Einleitung oder Überlegungen zur Origo Gentis’, in Typen der Ethnogenese, ed. Wolfram and Pohl, pp. 19–33 ——, ‘Tassilo III. und Karl der Große – Das Ende der Agilolfinger’, in Die Bajwaren, ed. Dannheimer and Dopsch, pp. 160–6 ——, ‘Virgil of St Peter’s at Salzburg’, in Irland und die Christenheit, ed. P. Ní Chatháin and M. Richter (Stuttgart, 1987), pp. 415–20 ——, 378–907: Grenzen und Räume. Geschichte Österreichs vor seiner Entstehung, Österreichische Geschichte 3 (Vienna, 1995) ——, History of the Goths, trans. T.J. Dunlap (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1988) ——, Intitulatio, I – Lateinische Königs- und Fürstentitel bis zum Ende des 8. Jahrhunderts, Mitteilungen des Instituts für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung, suppl. 21 (Vienna and Cologne, 1967) ——, Salzburg, Bayern, Österreich. Die Conversio Bagoariarum et Carantanorum und die Quellen ihrer Zeit, Mitteilungen des Insitits für Österreichische Geschichtsforschung 31 (Munich and Vienna, 1995) ——, The Roman Empire and Its Germanic Peoples, trans. T. Dunlap (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London, 1997) Wood, I.N., ‘A prelude to Columbanus: the monastic achievement in the Burgundian territories’, in Columbanus and Merovingian Monasticism, ed. Clarke and Brennan, pp. 3–32 ——, ‘Jonas, the Merovingians and Pope Honorius’, in After Rome’s Fall, ed. Murray, pp. 99–120 ——, ‘The individuality of Gregory of Tours’, in The World of Gregory of Tours, ed. Mitchell and Wood, pp. 28–46 ——, ‘The Vita Columbani and Merovingian Hagiography’, Peritia 1 (1982), pp. 63–80 ——, Gregory of Tours (Bangor, 1994) ——, The Merovingian Kingdoms, 450–751 (London and New York, 1994) ——, The Missionary Life. Saints and the Evangelisation of Europe, 400–1050 (London and New York, 2001) Wright, N., ‘Columbanus’s Epistulae’, in Columbanus, ed. Lapidge, pp. 29–92 Wright, R., Late Latin and Early Romance in Spain and Carolingian France (Liverpool, 1982) Zetzel, J.E.G., Latin Textual Criticism in Antiquity (New York, 1981)

Index

Aachen, 58, 173 Abano, 36 Abbasids, 172–6 Abcar, Vandal aristocrat, 81 Abragil, priest, 90 Acacius and the Acacian schism, 48n90 acclamatio, 37 Acephalites, 146 Adaloald, Lombard king, 132, 135 Adelperga, 154–6 Adoptionism, 176 adventus, 32 Aegulf, abbot of Saint-Denis, 111 Æthelbald, king of Mercia, 127 Æthelburh, Anglo-Saxon queen, 102 Aetius, 42 Africa Proconsularis, 59, 64, 65 Agapitus, praefectus urbis, 36 Agaune, 114–15 Agilolfings, 160–6 Aimoin of Fleury, 113 Aistulf, Lombard king, 153–4 Alamania, 162 al-Andalus, see Spain Alans, 59, 62 Alaric, Visigothic king, 48, 64 Albertini tablets, 65 Alcuin of York, 156–7, 176, 178 Alexandria, 173 Alfonso II, king of Galicia and Asturias, 176 Alfonso X, 134 Alfred the Great, Anglo-Saxon king, 134 Alianae, 76, 80 al-Mansur, Abbasid caliph, 172, 175 almsgiving, 117–18 Amals, 49 Amalafrida, 74 Amalasuintha, 39, 57 Amory, P., 54–5

Anastasius I, emperor, 29, 75, 85 Anglo-Saxon England, 147, 179–80 Anicii, 40 Annales Laureshamenses, 169, 171–2 Annales Mosellani, 169 Annales regni Francorum, 172, 173 Anonymus Valesianus, 29–30, 32, 37–9, 54 Ansbert, bishop of Rouen, 103 Anselperda, 154 Anthologia Latina, 78–83 Apuleius of Madaurus, 67 Aquileia, 158 Aquitaine, 96, 103 Arabic, language and literatue, 175–6 Arator, 53n111 Arbeo, bishop of Frising, 165 Archimedes, 43 Aredius, bishop of Lyons, 136 Arian baptistery (Ravenna), 35, 36 Arian complex (Ravenna), 35–6, 54 Arian–Gothic literature, see Gothic, language and literature Arians and Arianism, 30, 32, 40, 46, 53–7, 63, 66, 85, 87–92, 125–6, 132, 135, 141–2 Arichis, duke of Friuli, 154, 155–6 aristocracy Abbasid, 175–6 Barbarian, 20 Byzantine, 38, 167 Hispano-Roman, 125 Lombard, 154 Merovingian, 95–100, 102–11, 180 Roman senatorial, 30–1, 40–53, 136 Roman-African, 62, 64–6, 84 Vandal, 66–7, 81–2, 87 Visigothic, 125, 128–9, 142 Aristotle, 43–4 Arius of Alexandria, 30 n6, 91, 139n66 Arles, 36 205

206 Index Armeniakon, 171 Arno, bishop of Salzburg, 165–6 Arnobius, 68 Arnulf, bishop of Metz, 102 Asia Minor, 171 astronomy, 140–1 Asturias, 129, 176 Athalaric, Ostrogothic king, 38, 45, 49 Athanaric, geographer, 57 atoms, 148 Audoinus, bishop of Rouen, 103, 105, 107–9, 110 Augustine of Hippo, 18, 20–1, 55, 59, 61, 62, 68, 69, 179 Augustus, emperor, 20, 67, 68, 166, 178 Aulus Gellius, 67 Aurelius Victor, 68, 85 Ausonius, 83 Austrasia, 95–6, 98, 101–2, 108 Auvergne, 5 Avitus, bishop of Vienne, 117, 135 Bado, Visigothic queen, 142 Baetica, 144, 151 Bagdhad, 172–6 Balearics, 59 Balkans, 28, 56 Balthild, Frankish queen, 22, 119, 120–1 Banniard, M., 9 Barbarians, passim Barcelona, 133 Barontus, 115 basileus/basilissa, 167 Basques, 140 Baudonivia, 8 Bavaria, 159–66 bayt al-hikma, 175 Bede, 17, 72, 126 Belisarius, 83 Beneventum, 154, 155–6 Berbers, 92 Bernard the Monk, 174 Berry, 115 Bethlehem, 179 Biondi, F., 4–5 Bloch, M., 21 Blumarit, Vandal aristocrat, 81

Bobbio palimpsests, 56 Boethius, 17, 40–7, 51, 58 Boniface, missionary, 17, 127, 161 Bourdieu, P., 24–5 Bourges, 115 Braulio, bishop of Zaragoza, 143, 144–7, 150 Brescia, 154 Brown, P., 15n50, 20–1 Brunhild, Frankish queen, 94–6, 98, 136–9 Bruni, L., 4 Bulgar, count, 137n58 Bullough, D., 158 Bumke, J., 177 Burgundians, 5 Burgundy, 95, 119 Burke, P., 24 Burmann, P., 79 Bussi, G.A., 5 Byzancena, 59, 64, 65, 88 Byzantines, 11, 37, 65, 78, 79, 98, 122, 130, 131, 133, 144, 166–72 Byzantium, 3, 13–14, 20, 73, 117, 128, 166–72, 173, 179 Caesar, Gaius Julius, 6 Caesarius, bishop of Arles, 8 Caesarius, Byzantine governor, 131, 135 Calcidius, teacher, 70 Cameron, Averil, 13, 66, 79 Cantabria, 130, 140 Carolingians, 11, 160–2, 165 Cartagena, 131, 143, 151 Carthage, 59, 61–2, 68, 69–71, 76–8, 80, 83, 84, 88, 91, 173 Cassiodorus (I), grandfather of Cassiodorus (III), 42 Cassiodorus (II), father of Cassiodorus (II), 42 Cassiodorus (III), Theoderic the Great’s secretary, 38, 39, 40, 42–51, 56, 58, 135, 179 Catania, 36 Cato, poet, 81, 85, 92 cento, 81–2 Chalon-sur-Saône, 114n87 Charibert II, Frankish king, 96, 98

Index 207 Charlemagne, Frankish king, 1, 20, 21, 26, 58, 123, 149, 153, 154, 156–9, 164, 165, 167–72 173–6, 178–80 Charles Martel, major domus, 161 Chaucer, 9 Chelles, 120 Childebert II, Frankish king, 98–9, 102n36 Childeric II, Franksih king, 11 Childeric III, Frankish king, 12–13 Chilperic I, Frankish king, 72, 94, 98, 101, 107, 112, 178 Chintila, Visigothic king, 146 Chlothar II, Frankish king, 25, 94–123, 131 Chlothar III, Frankish king, 103 Chlothar, son of Theudebert, 94 Christianity, passim Chrodobert, bishop of Paris and Tours, 110 Chronicle of 754, 134 Cicero, 6, 44, 146, 148 Cilicius, bishop of Mentesa, 133, 135 civilitas, 51 Claudian, poet, 83 Clemens peregrinus, 163–4, 165 Clermont, 5 Clover, F., 81 Clovis I, Frankish king, 41, 94, 97 Clovis, II, Frankish king, 97, 113n81, 118 Codex Argenteus, 56–7 Codex Salmasianus, 76, 79–80, Collins, R., 134 Columbanus, 100, 106–8, 111, 115, 120, 136 Commodian, poet, 68 Conda, major domus, 99 consensus, 122, 124, 142–3, 149, 151 Constantine I, the Great, emperor, 68, 166 Constantine V, emperor, 169 Constantine VI, emperor, 20, 167, 169–70 Constantipole, 28–9, 31, 38, 52, 169 Corippus, teacher, 71 Cornutus, philosopher, 67 Coronatus, teacher, 70 Corsica, 59

Cosmographer of Ravenna, 57 councils: African (484), 72 Aquileia (381), 55 Ascheim (c. 755–760), 164 Chalcedon (451), 141 Chalon (602), 136 Clichy (626/7), 117 Constantinople I (381), 141 Dingolfing (c. 770–776/7), 164–5 Hieria (754), 168 Neuching (771), 164 Nicaea I (325), 31n6, 141 Nicaea II (787), 168, 170–2 Seville (633), 144, 146 Toledo III (589), 125, 141–2 Toledo IV (633), 142–3, 144 Courtney, E., 80 Courtois, C., 92 culture, passim Cunipert, Lombard king, 154 curiales, 66 Cyprian, apologist, 68 Dado, 107–8 Dagobert I, Frankish king, 25, 94–123, 177 Damira, Vandal aristocrat, 81 damnatio memoriae, 11 Decii, 40 Desiderius, bishop of Cahors, 103, 105, 116, 136–9 Desiderius, Lombard king, 153–9, 176, 177 donations, 23, 109 Donatism, 68–9 Donatus, grammarian, 70 Dopsch, A., 14, 16–17 Dracontius, 70, 72, 78, 83–7, 91, 92, 135 Dynamius of Provence, 99 Ebroin, major domus, 110 eclipses, 139–41, 150 Edictum Theoderici, 31 education, passim Einhard, 12–13, 170, 172 Eligius, bishop of Noyon, 103, 105, 109–10, 112, 120

208 Index Elissaios, eunuch, 169–70 encomium, 24, 76 Ennodius, bishop of Pavia, 38, 51–3, 57, 135 epigrams, 82–3 Épinay-sur-Seine, 111 Epiphanius, bishop of Pavia, 52 epithalamium, 81, 87, 98 Epitome Ovetensis, 131n26 Erevilia, 54 Erythro, see Rotrudis ethnogenesis, 3n5, Euclid, 43 Eudocia, 59, 92 Eudoxia, 59 Eugenius, bishop of Toledo, 143 Eusebia, see Erevilia Eusebius, bishop of Tarragona, 133, 135 Eutharic, 45, 47, 48–9, Eutropius, 1556 Expositio totius mundi, 59–60 Fardulfus, aboot of Saint-Denis, 158–9 Faremoutier, 121 Faro, bishop of Meaux, 103 Fausta, 22–3 Faustus, teacher, 70 Felicianus, grammarian, 70, 72, 84 Felix, aristocrat, 90 Felix, poet, 80, 92 Ferrandus, 89–91, 92 Filibert, abbot of Jumièges and Noirmoutier, 103 Flavian, grammarian, 155 Florentina, 144, 145 Florentinus, 75–7, 80, 92 Fontaine, J., 134, 135n52, 136–9, 140–1, 151 Fontenelle, see Saint-Wandrille Francia, 94–123, 124, 159–61, 170, 172, 180 Franco, F., 127 Franks, 12, 13, 94–123, 125, 128, 130, 160, 17–72, 174 Fredegar, 11, 111–12, 114, 117, 131, 134, 169 Fredegund, Frankish queen, 98, 101

Freising, 162–3 Fridamal, Vandal aristocrat, 81 Fridus, Vandal aristocrat, 81 Friuli, 154, 158–9 Fronto, orator, 67 Fructuosus of Braga, 143 Fulculfus, 23 Fulgentius, bishop of Ecija, 144, 145 Fulgentius, bishop of Ruspe, 70–1, 77, 78, 87–92 Fulgentius the Mythographer, 70, 88n129 Galla Placidia, 33, 59 Gaul, 94–123, 171 Geilimer, Vandal king, 83 Geiseric, Vandal king, 59, 64, 70, 74, 86 Gennadius of Marseilles, 69 Geremer, abbot, 103 Germany, 171 Gerperga, 154 Gesta Dagoberti, 112, 113 Gibbon, E., 4, 14, 15–16 Gibraltar, 59, 72 Gillett, A., 50 Goffart, W., 156 Gogo, major domus, 99, 102n36 Gothic, language and literature, 53–7, 82 Goths, 29, 45, 49, 54, 57, 59, 62, 64, 82, 124, 126, 146, 151 Greek, language and literature, 43–4, 84, 148, 169–70, 175–6 Gregory, bishop of Tours, 6–11, 72, 117, 126 Gregory the Great, pope, 135, 136 n55, 145, 162 Gregory, leader of the Acephalites, 146 Grimoald, major domus, 11 Gundemar, Visigothic king, 129, 137n58 Gundobad, Burgundian king, 41 Gundohinus Gospels, 22–3 Gunthamund, Vandal king, 74, 77, 79, 84, 85–7, 88, 92 Gunthramn, Frankish king, 116–17

Index 209 Hadrian I, pope, 158 Harun al-Rashid, Abbasid caliph, 172–6, 177 Hasdings, 76, 86 Hatshapsut, Egyptian queen, 21 Heather, P., 15–16, 50n98 Heldebald, geographer, 57 Helena, 166 Helvius Vindicianus, physician, 68 Heraclius, emperor, 129, 146 Hermenar, bishop of Autun, 8 Hilderic, Vandal king, 74, 79–80, 81, 83, 86 Hippo Regius, 59, 179 Holder, A., 43n57 Holy Land, 173–4 Honorius I, emperor, 33 Humanism, 4–5, 9–10, 17, 73 Huneric, Vandal king, 72, 81, 85–6, 92 hymns, see liturgy Iconoclasm, 167–72 Ildefonsus, bishop of Toledo, 143 immunities, 109, 113–14, 118–19 Iovianus of Provence, 99 Ireland, 147, 179 Irene, empress, 20, 167–72, 176, 177 Isidore, bishop of Seville, 128, 129, 130, 131, 132, 134, 142–52, 162 Islam, 13 Italy, 27–58, 88, 124, 128, 171 Itta, 108 Iulius, Jew, 156–7 Jerome, 69, 135, 157, 162, 179 Jerusalem, 173–4 Jews and Judaism, 127, 129, 132, 145 Jordanes, 38, 49, 126 Jouarre, 107–8, 120 Julian, bishop of Toledo, 143 Jumièges, 103 Justin I, emperor, 41, 47 Justinian I, emperor, 13–14, 45, 178 Juvenal, 83 Kluckhohn, C., 24 Konstaes, 169 Kroeber, A.L., 24

Lactantius, 68 Laistner, M.L.W., 17–18, 19 Latin, language and literature, 6–10, 17, 43–4, 70–3, 84, 148–9 Laurentius, bishop of Milan, 52 laus pereniis, 111, 114–16, 118–19 Leander, bishop of Seville, 143, 144 Leo IV, emperor, 167, 171 Leovigild, Visigothic king, 128–9, 178 Les grandes chroniques de France, 113 Lesbos, 167 Leudegar, bishop of Autun, 8 Lex Baiwariorum, 160–2 Lex Burgundionum, 5–6 Liber historiae Francorum, 112, 118 liber vitae, 165 libertas, 31 Libri Carolini, 170–2 liturgy, 20, 23, 98, 111–23, 142, 149, 162, 165 Liutperga, 154 Liutprand, Lombard king, 154, 178 Liuva II, Visigothic king, 128 Lombards, 153–9 Longoretus, 115 Lucretius, 140, 148 Lupus, duke of Champagne, 99 Luxeuil, 108 Luxorius, 70, 79, 81, 82–3 Lyons, 136 Macrobius, 44, 45 Maecenas, 20, 21, 150 major domus, 96, 102, 110, 119, 162, 163 Mamalos, 169 Marcomir, geographer, 57 Marculf, 120 Marcus Manlius, 67 Maria, Contantine VI’s wife, 171 Marrou, H.-I., 18–19, 20 Martial, 78, 83, 148 Martianus Capella, 68 Martin, saint, 98 masses for kings, 120–3 Matthews, J., 40, 43 Mauritania, 59, 62 Mauritius, emperor, 144

210 Index mausoleum of Theoderic (Ravenna), 35–6 Maximinus, 55 Maximus of Turin, 55 McCulskey, S., 141 Medici, 21 Merovech, Frankish king, 94 Merovech, grandson of Theudebert, 94 Merovingians, 10–13, 19, 94–123, 126, 131, 160–2, 179 Metz, 95, 98–9, 101 Milan, 35, 71 Millebecus, 115 Minucius Felix, apologist, 68 mirror of princes, 138 missals: Bobbio, 122n136 Frankish, 121 Moesia, 28 Momigliano, A., 51 monasticism, 100, 106–11, 140, 144, 179–80 Mondsee, 163 Monophysites, 48n90 Montecassino, 154, 156 Montpellier Psalter, 163–4 Mont-Saint-Michel, 174 Mumford, L., 18 Muslims, 126–7, 172–6 Nees, L., 36 Nelson, J., 122 Neustria, 95, 103, 119 Nicomachus, 43 Nikephorus, emperor, 167 Nivelles, 108 Noirmoutier, 103 North Africa, 21, 53, 59–93, 126, 128 Numidia, 59 Oageis, Vandal aristocrat, 81 Odoacer, 27–9, 35, 42, 85 Offa, king of Mercia, 176 Optatus of Milevis, 69 Ordo generis Cassiodororum, 42–3, 49–50 Orthodox baptistery (Ravenna), 33, 36 Orthodox complex (Ravenna), 33–5

Ostrogoths, 27–58, 93, 128 Ovid, 78, 148 paganism, 44 Palace in Laureto (Ravenna), 35 panegyrics, 29, 41, 43, 47–8, 50, 52–3, 76, 81, 86–7, 98 Pannonia, 28 Paris, 95, 100–1, 114n87 Parma, 36 Parthensius, 53n111 Passau, 163 Passio Leudegarii, 8 patronage of learning and culture, 21–4 and passim Paul the Deacon, 72, 154–6, 159 Paul, bishop of Verdun, 105 Paulinus, archbishop of Aquileia, 158–9 Pavia, 36, 51–2, 154, 155, 156, 159 Pelagianism, 88 Peregrinus, scribe, 163 Peter of Pisa, 156–9 Peter, bishop of Pisa, 158 Peter, bishop of Verdun, 158 Petrarch, 4 philosopher-king, 38–9, 47 Piganiol, A., 16 Pinta, Arian bishop, 90 Pippin I, major domus, 101–2, 108 Pippin II, major domus, 108 Pippin III, Frankish king, 23, 123, 163, 168, 172 Pippinids, see Carolingians Pirenne, H., 14, 16–17 Pisa, 156–7 Plato, 43–4, 46 Pompeius, grammarian, 70 Porphyry, 44 Possidius, 62–3 Praetextatus, bishop of Rouen, 101n33 prayers, see liturgy Principo, 167 Procopius of Caesarea, 13–14, 39, 57, 65–6, 75, 126 propaganda: Carolingian, 1–3, 11, 96–7, 122, 131, 171, 179 Merovingian, 108–9 Ostrogothic, 50–1, 53

Index 211 Provence, 127 Ptolemy, 43 Pyrenees, 125, 128, 130 Pythagoras, 43 Quierzy, 163 Quitntilianus, 148 Quodvultdeus, 73 Radegund, Frankish queen, 8, 99, 118 Rado, 107–8 Radolium (Reuil), 107 Ratchis, Lombard king, 154, 155 Ravenna, 29, 30, 32, 33–7, 39, 41, 42, 43, 46, 47, 51, 54, 55, 57, 58, 92, 98 Rebais, 103, 107, 121 Reccared I, Visigothic king, 125, 128–30, 132n34, 141–2, 144, 151 Recchia, V., 140 Regensburg, 163 Reichenau, 43n57, 122n136 renaissance: Bavarian, 162 Byzantine, 167 Carolingian, 1–3, 17–18, 19, 178, 180 Isidorian, 141–3, 149–51 Italian, 4–5, 9, 72 twelfth-century, 176, 177 Vandal, 74–8 Rheims, 95 Riccimir, Visigothic king, 129, 151 Riché, P., 19–20, 37, 53, 57, 71, 82, 102, 164 Roman empire, passim Romanisation, 72 Romanitas, 5, 39, 53, 66 Romanticism, 17 Rome, 3, 32, 35, 36, 40, 48, 59, 64, 67, 71, 156, 161, 169, 171, 179 Romulus Augustulus, emperor, 27, 35 Rosenwein, B., 103, 109, 113 Rotrudis, 169–70 Ruccones, 129, 130 Rufinianus, aristocrat, 87 Rupertus Cross, 164 Rusticus, 105

sacramentary: Irish Palimpsest, 122n136 Old Gelasian, 120–1 Sagitarius, 105 Saint-Denis, 111–16, 158 Saint-Emmeram (Mondsee), 163 Saint-Germain-des-Près, 112 Saint-Germer-de-Fly, 103 Saint-John-the-Evangelist (Ravenna), 33 Saint-Martin (Tours), 114n87 Saint-Maurice (Agaune), 111, 114, 116, 118 Saint-Peter (Salzburg), 163 Saint-Samson-sur-Risle, 103 Saint-Vincent, see Saint-Germain-des-Près Saint-Wandrillee, 103, 107–8 Sallust, 148 Salvian of Marseilles, 10, 69 Salzburg, 163, 165 San Andrea di Goti (Ravenna), 35 San Eusebio (Ravenna), 35 San Giorgio (Ravenna), 35 San Salvatore (Brescia), 154 Sant’Apollinare Nuovo (Ravenna), 35, 36–7, 54 Santa Corce (Ravenna), 33 Santo Spirito (Ravenna), 35 Saône, 114n87 Saracens, see Muslims Sardinia, 59, 88, 90 Sasanians, 175 Saumaise, C. de, 78 Sedulius, 135 Seine, 100, 114n87, 121 senate, 31, 32, 39, 40, 42, 45 Septimania, 137, 144 Septimius Severus, emperor, 20 Seville, 144, 147 Sicily, 59, 88 Sidonius Apollinaris, 5, 82 Sigibert I, Frankish king, 94, 136 Sigibert III, Frankish king, 96–7, 98 Sigismund, Burgundian king, 118, 177–8 Sisebut, Visigothic king, 25, 72–3, 124–52, 177

212 Index Sisenand, Visigothic king, 142 Skeireins, 55–6 Soissons, 95, 97, 114n87 Spain, 124–52, 173 Spoleto, 154 Statius, 83 Stephen II (III), pope, 12 Stocking, R., 142, 149 subscriptiones, 44–5 Suevi, 146 Suinthila, Visigothic king, 129, 151 Sulpicius, bishop of Bourges, 105 superstitions, 141 Symmachi, 40 Symmachus, pope, 32 Symmachus, Quintus Aurelius Memmius, 41, 45 Tacitus, 48 Tarasios, patriarch of Constantinople, 168 Tassilo Chalice, 164 Tassilo, duke of Bavaria, 154, 159–66, 176, 177 Terence, 67 Tertullian, 68 Theleptus, 71, 88 Theodechildis, abbess of Jouarre, 108 Theoderic the Great, Ostrogothic king, 20, 25, 27–58, 75, 77, 85, 92, 97–8, 135, 177 Theodulf, bishop of Orléans, 170–2 Theophanes, historian, 171 Theudebert II, Frankish king, 94, 115 Theuderic II, Frankish king, 94, 136–9 Theudila, 132, 135 Thracia, 28 Thrasamund, count of Capua, 87n128 Thrasamund, Vandal king, 25, 59–93, 157, 177 Tiberius, emperor, 67 Toledo, 125, 131n26, 135, 150, 151–2 topos, 9, 23, 137, 139 Toulouse, 124–5 Tours, 98 Trajan, emperor, 30 transformation of the Roman World, 14–16, 20 translation movement, 175–6

tricenalia, 32 Tripolitania, 59 Turcius Rufinus Apronianus Asterius, 45 Tuscany, 153 Tyconius, 69 Ulfilas, missionary, 31n6, 56 Uppsala, 56 Valentinian III, emperor, 30, 35, 42, 59, 92 Van Dam, R., 114n87 Van der Lof, L.J., 140 vandalism, 93 Vandals, 53, 59–93, 128, 146 Venantius Fortunatus, 8, 98–9, 117 Verona, 36, 55 Victor, bishop of Vita, 63, 70, 72, 73, 87 Victorianus, aristocrat, 87 Victorinus, philosopher, 67–8 Vienne, 136 Vigilius of Thapsus, 73 Virgil of Salzburg, 163, 165 Virgil, poet, 7, 78, 83, 148 Virgin-of-the-Source (tês pêgês), 167 Visigoths, 124–52 Visio Baronti, 115–16 Vita Arnulfi, 102 Vita Balthildis, 110 Vita Desiderii, 131, 136–9 Vita Eligii, 109–10, 112 Vivarium, 46, 179 Vosevio, 23 vota, 76, 80–1 Vouillé, 125 Wallace-Hadrill, J.M., 113, 116, 134 Ward-Perkins, B., 15–16 White, L.T., 14n48 Witteric, Visigothic king, 128, 130 Wnadregisilus, 103 Wolf, K., 151 Wood, I., 11, 108 Wright, R., 9 Zeno, emperor, 28–9, 48n90, 85 Zoroastrians, 175

Index 213

Manuscripts Autun Bibliothèque Municipale 3 (The Gundohinus Gospaels), 23n79

Munich Bayerische Staatsbibliothel Clm 6237, 163n41 Clm 6297, 163n41 Clm 6299, 163n41 Clm 6433, 163n41

El Escorial Real Biblioteca de Monasterio de San Lrenzo & I.14, 135n47

Paris

Florence

Bibliothèque nationale de France lat. 10318 lat. 8907, 55

Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana XXXIX, 45n68

Pisa

León

Archivio archiescovile diplomatico 11, 158n23

Archivo cathedralicio 22, 147n88

Uppsala

Milan

Universitetsbibliotek DG 1 (Codex Argenteus), 56n128

Biblioteca Ambrosiana C 73 inf., 56n124 E 147 sup., 56n123 S 36 sup., 56n125

Vatican City Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana lat. 5750, 6n123

Montpellier

Verona

Bibiothèque Universitaire 409, 164n45

Biblioteca capitulare LI (49), 55