Showing posts with label State-building. Show all posts
Showing posts with label State-building. Show all posts

Thursday 30 June 2022

Carolingian government in action: The Edict of Pitres (864)

  I am back!!! After almost two months of inactivity (54 days to be precise), the longest in the history of this blog, I am now active again. Those of you who have been actively following may have been wondering what happened to Charles Martel part four - he'll be with you very soon, I promise. But I thought I'd give you an explanation as to what has been going on in the time in between. From 3 May to 17 June I have been on a long-anticipated journey round Europe to see some of the best late antique and early medieval stuff out there, as well as things from other historical periods. A kind of Grand Tour for the twenty-first century, if you will, but orientated completely towards my personal interests rather than a canonical selection of cities and Classical sites (mostly in France and Italy) believed to be essential to the education of any young gentleman. In the course of those 46 days I travelled a minimum of 4849.1 km by train (excluding day trips to outlying places) and walked 610.9 km (13.2 km a day on average) through five Continental European countries - France, Germany, Czech Republic, Austria and Italy. That number could be increased to seven if you include changing trains in Luxembourg and Switzerland. Basically covered a good whack of Charlemagne's Empire, and with all that near-constant travelling, one got some sense of what it must have been like to have been like to have been a highly itinerant ruler like Otto the Great, Conrad II or Frederick Barbarossa - above all, how exhausting it must have been. 


As you might suspect, the many great and wonderful things I saw on my travels will be the subject of many a blog post. But for the moment, in order to prepare you for the first blog post, I am going to do one on the Edict of Pitres, arguably one of the most important documents in early medieval history, as it gives us unparalleled insights into how an early medieval government was at least supposed to have worked. 

Who, what, where, when and Why?

 The Edict of Pitres was issued on 25 June. It was issued by the king of West Francia, Charles the Bald (823 - 877), at the royal villa of Pitres on the Seine, in what is now the French region of Normandy but was then called Neustria. The Edict was a legislative act issued following a royal assembly, which leading churchmen and landed aristocrats from throughout the kingdom had attended, where all kinds of consultation and discussion concerning the Edict's provisions had taken place before hand. As for the why, we need to take a step back and look at Charles the Bald's reign before that.

The Road to Pitres

Charles the Bald's reign up until this point had been quite a bumpy ride. He had won his kingdom through an extremely bloody and brutal three-year civil war, in which he and his brother, Louis the German, fought against their other brother, Lothar, and their nephew, Pepin II of Aquitaine, following the death of their father, Emperor Louis the Pious (r.814 - 840). I have covered this and the treaty of Verdun that followed in a previous post (see hyperlink above). 

No sooner had Charles secured his kingdom, he found himself faced with revolts from prominent nobles from the western regions of his kingdom, like Lambert of Nantes, who were still loyal to Lothar and his cause for a unified Frankish Empire. These threats were however eliminated fairly quickly. But in order to make sure that he political community as a whole in West Francia stayed loyal to him, Charles had to accept various constraints and limitations on his royal authority in a legislative act called the Capitulary of Coulaines - a kind of forerunner to Magna Carta. For the next five years, Aquitaine (the entire southern half of his kingdom) had tried to secede and become its own independent kingdom ruled by Charles' nephews. By 848 the nobles in Aquitaine and the Spanish March (Catalonia) had come to realise that all the advantages of having a local king were offset by said local king being a total car crash. Yet it was only in 864, a few months prior to the issuing of the edict, that Pepin II was finally pacified once and for all. Worse was to come in 858 when the West Frankish nobles, highly dissatisfied with Charles' rule, offered the crown to his brother, Louis the German. Charles was unable to raise an army to resist Louis and hid himself away in Burgundy. Only by rallying the support of the West Frankish bishops, led by Archbishop Hincmar of Rheims (806 - 882), combined with desertions in Louis' army was Charles able to keep his throne. In 862, Charles had even faced-down a short-lived rebellion of magnates from the northern and western regions of his kingdom led by his own 16-year-old son, Louis the Stammerer.

But by the summer of 864, the situation had changed and Charles was now in a much stronger position politically, with his royal authority unchallenged. Therefore, Charles needed to make a statement that would proclaim his might as a ruler and the newfound confidence in his kingship. He also had some pressing concerns. Viking attacks down the riverine waterways of the Frankish kingdoms had been escalating. Trade with the east via Russia was becoming less profitable for the Scandinavians, as the Abbasid Caliphate was starting to politically fragment (a classic “centre can no longer hold” type situation) and its silver mines in the Middle East were drying up. Meanwhile, Britain and Mainland Europe still made rich pickings – we’re only three years off from the Great Heathen Army landing in Northumbria. Charles therefore needed to ramp up the Frankish state structures to prepare them for the worst to come. What was to happen at Pitres was going to be the defining moment of Charles the Bald’s kingship, a chance to put the last two decades behind him.



Charles the Bald appears enthroned in the Vivian Bible (846), BNF Lat 1 folio 423r

Charles the Bald's political style

Any royal assembly was a chance for a king to give charismatic displays of his royal authority. For example, we know that Carolingian Frankish kings wore their crowns at royal assemblies, as would the West Saxon kings of England from the tenth century onwards in emulation of Frankish practice. Processions, litanies and other ritual elements could be expected to happen, and its beyond reasonable doubt that these were quite theatrical occasions, even if no set of stage directions survives for a Carolingian assembly. Assemblies were also an opportunity for the king’s subjects who didn’t have the privilege of regularly attending on him at court to get close to their ruler – impress him with gifts, give him news of what was going on in their corner of the kingdom, petition him to give them favours or redress any grievances. Furthermore, they allowed members of the political community to socialise with each other – hunting and feasting would almost always be on the agenda in organising these assemblies. And most importantly, they were a forum for a king to receive formal advice from his subjects on matters of state and build consensus in support of his policies. Royal assemblies, which happened annually, were thus the key mechanism for kings to get anything done on a kingdom-wide level, and they were what held the kingdom together as a single unified entity in the absence of large, administrative bureaucracies like the Western Roman Empire had had western European monarchs from the twelfth century onwards would do.

Despite the importance of the event, we don’t know the actual proceedings of the assembly at Pitres. Archbishop Hincmar of Rheims was an eyewitness, yet in the Annals of Saint Bertin, which he authored, he only tells us what was accomplished there. Annual tribute was received from the Bretons, who had from 845 to 851 successfully fought to free themselves from direct Frankish rule and had become a tribute-paying client state. New fortifications were to be built on the Seine to defend against Viking attacks. Finally, “with the advice of his faithful men and following the custom of his predecessors and forefathers, he [Charles] drew up capitula to the number of thirty-seven, and he gave orders for them to be observed as laws throughout his realm.” That this is an allusion to the Edict of Pitres, there can be no doubt.

Hincmar’s statement highlights one of multiple purposes of the Edict – as royal-image making/ public relations/ propaganda (whatever you wanna call it). As Janet Nelson has demonstrated, Imperial Roman legislation in the form of the Theodosian Code of 438 and the Novels of Emperor Valentinian III (r.425 – 455) is cited, sometimes verbatim, as being the inspiration behind thirty-three of the provisions of the Edict. The number of chapters of the edict (37), mentioned by Hincmar, was very deliberately chosen, as the Novels of Valentinian III were 36 in number. None of this would have been lost on the Edict’s audience. Roman law in one form or another was still the legal system in the southern half of Charles’ kingdom (Aquitaine and the Spanish March). And churchmen from the northern half of the kingdom like Hincmar had extensively studied the Theodosian Code even though where they lived the Law of the Salian Franks, which had its roots in ancient Germanic custom, held sway. Charles himself appears to have claimed to have studied Roman law as a boy in a letter he sent to Pope Hadrian II in 870. And more than thirty years ago, Freculf of Lisieux had written for the instruction of the young Charles of how Theodosius I, “a man necessary for restoring the state” had “corrected many laws, added to them and issued them in his own name. Whatever laws he saw in the city to be pernicious and redundant in terms of ancient custom, he authorised them to be removed; and he saw to it that whatever laws were necessary to help the state were added.” The Edict also cites in various places earlier legislative directives (capitularies) from Charles’ father, Emperor Louis the Pious, and his grandfather, Charlemagne. And as Charles would have been aware, his grandfather had all the law codes of the different peoples living within his Empire written down, and had tried to reconcile the differences between the two legal systems operating in the heartlands of his empire (the Law of the Salian Franks and the Law of the Ripaurian Franks) but in the end had only added a few chapters to them to bring them somewhat up-to-date. Despite the fact that Charles the Bald, unlike his two elder brothers, had never met his grandfather, he was held up as a role model for him from boyhood and Einhard’s Life of Charlemagne was prescribed as a text for him to study in the schoolroom. Thus, through the Edict, Charles was very consciously casting himself in the mould of the Christian Roman emperors, especially Theodosius I (r.379 – 395) and Theodosius II (r.408 – 450), and of his immediate predecessors, who had always been held up to him as exemplary rulers.

What is the edict actually all about?

Even more interesting is what the Chapters of the Edict themselves entail. The Edict has been described by the great Anglo-Saxon historian Patrick Wormald as being the greatest single legislative act issued by a north European king before Edward I. Janet Nelson, whose biography of Charles the Bald is still the definitive work on the Carolingian monarch despite it being over thirty-years-old, describes the Edict as the most remarkable piece of public legislation between Justinian’s Novels (sixth century) and the twelfth century. And such assessments by modern academics really do bear out. The scope of the edict is huge in terms of all the different areas of government policy-making it covers, and the provisions it makes are incredibly ambitious.

The structure of the edict goes:'

The structure of the edict goes:

·         Preamble

·         Chapters 1 – 7: provisions concerning public order and the keeping of the peace.

·         Chapters 8 – 24: provisions concerning the reform of the coinage.

·         Chapters 25 – 27: provisions concerning the defence of the realm and the reform of conscription and military service.

·         Chapters 28 – 31: provisions concerning the regulation of the rural economy – taxation, rent, labour services, the land market and peasant migration.

·         Chapters 32 – 34: provisions concerning specific issues that were brought up in the royal assembly at Pitres.

·         Chapters 35 – 36: provisions concerning the communication and enforcement of the Edict in the localities.

·         Chapter 37: provision concerning the royal lodge by the Seine and final exhortation for the king’s subjects to defend the realm against the Viking threat. 

A short(ish) chapter-by-chapter paraphrase of the provisions of the edict now follows:

1.       Counts and other lay men may not appropriate church property for themselves – it’s the job of bishops and abbots to police the counts on this while the counts police other lay men; for offenders a policy of two strikes and then you’re out applies.

2.       Anyone who assaults widows, orphans, priests, monks and nuns, and any landowner who tries to evict a priest, charge rent on a holiday or on church properties granted exemption from it or refuses to pay rent on lands held from churches, will be thoroughly investigated by the counts and other royal officials and will have harsh justice served to them according to legislation issued in the reigns of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious. Likewise, bishops can prescribe penance or excommunication to lawbreakers.

3.       All free men in the kingdom are obliged by sacred oath to maintain the public peace, and it’s the job of bishops, counts and other royal officials in the localities to police them and bring offenders to the king’s attention.

4.       The vassals of the king and queen shall be treated with all due respect by the counts, just as they would expect not to be mistreated by the king and his entourage.

5.       Counts must ensure that royal estates and monastic lands under royal protection that lie within their administrative districts are treated as inviolate. They also must respect the king’s choices of estate managers and guarantee their safety.

6.       Free men living in lands ravaged by the Vikings, who have thus turned to banditry to make up for their loss of homes, farmland, slaves and moveable wealth, shall be summoned to the public law courts by a local count. If they refuse then whatever remains of their property in their home county shall be seized by the state and they shall be outlawed.

7.       Men who operate as bandits outside their administrative district from which they hail shall be reported by the count responsible for the county in which they are operating to the count responsible for their home county. They shall then work together to track down and arrest the criminals in question.

8.       Unadulterated denarii (silver coins) of the correct weight from any mint are legal tender in every part of the kingdom until St Martin’s Day (11 November). All towns and villages across the kingdom, even if they are ecclesiastical properties that are legally immune from the normal jurisdiction of the king’s officials, will have local residents appointed as judges. Together they will work with the counts, other royal officers and major landowners in the area to ensure that good denarii are not rejected in financial transactions, and that denarii that are of incorrect weight/ are not of pure silver are prohibited.

9.       These ordinary free men chosen as local judges for the coinage, must swear an oath that they will perform the duties that the role entails to the best of their knowledge and abilities, and in good faith. Any man they know to have refused an adulterated denarius of correct weight, they must bring to the attention of the count and other officers of the state in the localities. If they fail to do this and are convicted, they will be punished as a perjurer under secular law and will also be prescribed an appropriate penance under ecclesiastical law.

10.   After St Martin’s Day (11 November 864), only the new, reformed silver coinage will be accepted. Anyone who tries trading with an old denarius will have the coins will have it confiscated from him by the count and his subordinate officials.

11.   Coins of the new, reformed type will look like this: on one side they will have the king’s name written in a circle and the monogram of the Carolingian dynasty in the middle; on the other side, they will have the name of the place where the coin was minted written in the circle and in the middle the symbol of the cross.

12.   Coins may only be minted at ten sites in the kingdom, all under the tight supervision of the king’s officials – Quentovic, Compiegne, Rouen, Paris, Rheims, Sens, Orleans, Chalon-sur-Saone, Melle and Narbonne.

13.   In each of these ten royally-approved sites for mints, the locals shall choose an honest and reliable moneyer. Moneyers shall swear an oath to do their duty to the best of their knowledge and ability and in good faith. If a moneyer is believed to have minted adulterated or underweight denarii, or to have engaged in fraudulent practices in the weighing or purifying of the silver, he will be subjected to trial by ordeal. If thereby found guilty, he will have one of his hands amputated and will be prescribed the penance appropriate for blasphemers and robbers of the poor by the local bishop. Those living in Aquitaine will be sentenced according to Roman law.

14.   On 1 July, every count from each of the ten districts allowed to have mints will come to the town of Senlis with his viscount, two substantial landowners/ slave masters from the region and the resident moneyer. There, they will be given five pounds of pure silver from the royal treasury so that they can begin minting coins. And on the Saturday before the beginning of Lent the next year, they shall bring five pounds of denarii to the king’s officers at Senlis.

15.   All men in the kingdom will be able to have their old denarii exchanged for the new coinage after 1 July, having been informed that after 11 November only the new coinage will be legal tender. Any man who rejects an unadulterated denarius of the new coinage of the new coinage after 1 July will have to pay a fine of sixty solidi (720 denarii or three pounds of silver), and any slave/ serf who rejects it will be given sixty lashes with a birch. The local bishop and the officers of the state will ensure that the punishment is not excessive. Any landlord or slave master who doesn’t let his slaves or serfs be punished for the aforementioned offence will be obliged to pay a fine of sixty solidi.

16.   After 1 July, if any man discovers a denarius of the new coinage that has been adulterated, he must perform a citizen’s arrest on the man who offered it to him during trading and interrogate him as to who he got it from, and this shall then pass from hand to hand until the original moneyer has been traced. As before, any moneyer who mints underweight or adulterated coinage will in Aquitaine be punished according to Roman law, and in the northern half of the kingdom and Burgundy will be punished by having his hand amputated. Anyone caught accepting an underweight or unadulterated denarius will pay a fine of sixty solidi if he is a free man, or given sixty lashes with a birch if he is a slave or a serf.

17.   Counts and other officers of the state will ensure that no one in their administrative districts tries forging coins or setting up their own private mints. Anyone caught doing this will have his hand amputated.

18.   If a forger flees to a royal estate, he will be searched for and arrested by the officers of the state. If he hides in lands belonging to churches or magnates that are protected by a legal immunity, the landowner is obliged to hand him over to the officers of the state for punishment as they would do for robbers and murderers. Any landowner who harbours a forger shall be fined 15 solidi if he refuses to hand him over at the first request, 30 solidi at the second, and full compensation for all the damages (600 solidi) combined with the count and his men coming over and forcing him to hand over the fugitive at the third. Any landowner who resists the count coming to arrest the forger will be fined 600 solidi.

19.   To facilitate the reform and regulation of the coinage as outlined above, every count shall be obliged to make a survey of all the markets in his county. They must be able to report back to the king’s court which markets in their county were created in the time of Charlemagne, which were created in the time of Louis the Pious with his authorisation, which were created in the time of Louis the Pious without his authorisation and which came into being during the reign of the present monarch. They must also find out which markets have moved location since they were created, and by whose authority this has taken place. Every count shall bring the surveys to the next annual assembly, and the king and his advisers shall determine which markets are useful and can remain and which ones are superfluous and shall be abolished. And no markets may be held on Sundays.

20.   Counts and other officers of the state must ensure that fixed weights and measures are used in all transactions, so that landlords may not claim more than they are rightfully entitled to by custom from their tenants in rent, and traders may not sell their customers short. Anyone found guilty of this will have the goods they measured dishonestly confiscated and be fined sixty solidi if they are a free man, and given sixty lashes with a birch if they are a serf or a slave, and they will receive appropriate penalties from the bishops as well. But if any counts or other officers of state unjustly confiscate goods from free men, serfs or slaves on the false pretence that they had used dishonest measurements, they shall be punished for miscarriage of justice in the same way as any official who abuses their powers. Anyone responsible for ensuring that correct weights and measures are used who fails in this duty will be punished as a perjurer.

21.   The fine for the rejection of good denarii has been remitted for the last three years. Now, it will be retroactively reinstated and those who took advantage of that must now make good, to ensure that no one will ever again refuse good denarii. Any landlord who tries to rack up rents/ any merchant who tries to rack up prices in order to fork up the money for the fine will be made to pay compensation to the poor people they have exploited this way and will be punished by the officers of the state, so no one will be tempted to exploit the poor in this way again.

22.   Unfree peasants who have been flogged for refusing good denarii should not be forced to pay fines, and if they have been fined in the past, they’ll be given due compensation. Any free man who owns allodial lands or benefices (lands granted by the crown for life) in multiple counties, but cannot fork out enough to pay the fine then the officers of the state may exercise discretion as to what is a fair punishment that will not just unjustly burden him – the aim is encouraging law-abiding behaviour for the common good, not the state’s representatives enriching themselves. Likewise, the officers of the state can be lenient in giving out fines to people who have broken the law unintentionally/ out of ignorance.

23.   Gold and silver alloys are banned. And after St Remigius’ Day (1 October) no one may sell gold and silver except for purification – jewellery is included in this ban. Anyone caught selling alloys or gold and silver jewellery will be immediately arrested and brought before the king’s representatives if they don’t own property or slaves in the county. And if they do, they will be summoned to the law courts. If found guilty, they will be punished accordingly. However, if any officers of the state arrest people carrying away their alloys or gold and silver jewellery to the smith for purification, the officers will be investigated and punished. Any smith caught making gold and silver alloys or jewellery after 1 October will be punished according to Roman law if he lives in Aquitaine, or if he lives in other parts of the kingdom, he will have his hand amputated.

24.   The price of a pound of refined gold is fixed at twelve pounds of pure silver in the new denarii. A pound of gold that has been refined but not enough to make gilt shall be fixed at ten pounds of silver. Any counts and officers of the state must, on pain of being stripped of their offices, ensure that these prices stay fixed. Any man who tries to fraudulently get round this decree will be forced to pay a fine of sixty solidi if is a free man, or will be given sixty lashes if he is an unfree man.

25.   From 1 July, any man caught trying to sell weapons and armour to the Vikings will be executed for treason against the state and betrayal of the Christian faith, without any hope of royal pardon or redemption.

26.   Any free man who owns a horse, or has the means to support one, is obliged to serve in the royal armies. Counts and other officers of the state are thus forbidden from confiscating a free man’s horses without clear justification, since it will prevent him from performing the military service he owes to the state. Any count or other type of royal official caught doing will receive the punishment befitting all government officials who engage in arbitrary and oppressive behaviour in the localities.

27.   The counts must make surveys of how many free men in each county can serve as soldiers in the royal army on their account, how many could serve if a neighbour helped provide them with supplies and equipment, how many could serve if two neighbours were ready to help them out and how many could serve if four neighbours were ready to help them out. The counts should then report back to the royal court how large a squadron of soldiers their county can send to royal army. The remainder, consisting of free men to poor to serve in the royal army even if they clubbed together, should be obliged to build new fortifications, bridges and swamp crossings and perform guard duty in public fortresses and on the border if they live in frontier regions, as it is their duty to defend the patria. Anyone who deserts from the royal army, or fails to show up for muster, shall be fined.

28.   Any free landholder who owes the king poll tax or rent is forbidden to commend themselves to the church or any other lord, lest the state loses what it is rightfully owed. The counts will enforce this. And if the church or any other lord does take such people on, they will be fined. Any free man is allowed to sell or gift his property to whoever he pleases, so long as the state still receives what it is owed by way of rent or tax.

29.   Peasants who live on royal or ecclesiastical estates, who already willingly perform cartage and manual labour on them as is laid out in the polyptychs (estate surveys and records of rents and services owed compiled in the time of Charlemagne and Louis the Pious), must now be willing to cart marl without any argument, even though this is admittedly a recent innovation rather than an ancient custom.

30.   Peasants are now forbidden from selling their hereditary lands on the land market, as it is leading to landlords losing rents and estates becoming fragmented. Counts, other officers of state and priests will be tasked with enforcing this. Any subsequent sale of peasant land that takes place will be revoked, and rents shall be levied on each hereditary holding after the lands belonging to it have been restored in proportion to the quantity and quality of its fields and vineyards.

31.   Each count must make a survey of rural migrants living in his county. Rural migrants who have lived in their new county of residence since the time of Charlemagne or Louis the Pious are permitted to stay. Those who have fled to live in a new county because of recent Viking raids must be sent back by the counts, the bishops and their agents, but they must not blackmail them into doing so. People who have migrated to other regions for seasonal wage labour in the vineyards can continue to do so, so long as they return to the home regions to sow, plough and harvest their landlord’s crops within the allotted times. Any marriages migrants make outside their home region will be dissolved. Runaway slaves will be returned to their masters, and any child of a runaway slave will inherit his mother’s status.

32.   Two counts who share a border must not convene their county courts on the same day, because free landholders who have lands and interests in both counties cannot attend both meetings. They must stay in constant communication – if one count holds the county court on a Monday, the other should hold it on a Thursday, and to make it fair they must alternate each year between who gets to hold their court first.

33.   Anyone who witnesses an oath shall swear his oath 42 days thereafter, unless Lent falls in between, in which case he must wait until eight days after Easter Sunday. Anyone who fails to heed this decree will be fined sixty solidi.

34.   The counts have asked for advice on how to deal with peasants who have sold themselves into slavery/ serfdom because they are doubly burdened by the poll tax and rent to their landlords in times of famine. After further consultation with the bishops and other members of the Christian faithful, and having looked through the Salic law, capitularies, the Bible and the works of the Church Fathers, the king has decreed that throughout the kingdom men should still be allowed to sell themselves into slavery/ serfdom when they are desperate. However, their masters are obliged to care for them and cannot sell them to anyone else. Nor can they claim ownership of any children that the man in question has had with a free woman.

35.   Royal agents will be sent into every county to make sure that all the provisions of the Edict, and all previous capitularies, are being implemented by the counts. And if any counts are found to be negligent or unwilling to implement the royal will in the localities, they will lose their offices and be replaced by more reliable candidates.

3 All archbishops, and the counts of the cities where their metropolitan sees are based, shall receive copies of the Edict of Pitres and previous capitularies from the royal chancery. They will then have them transcribed, so that all the bishops, counts, abbots and royal vassals in their provinces may have a copy of the Edict of Pitres which they can then have read out publicly in all the county courts across the kingdom. And lists will be drawn up by the archbishops and counts of all who have received a copy, which will then be given to the chancellor, so that no one can claim ignorance in disregarding the Edict’s provisions.

Following an incident last year, no one may reside in the royal lodge by the Seine without permission and the guards will ensure that the culprit does not escape without due punishment. All the king’s subjects must be prepared to defend the realm and the Holy Church against the Vikings whenever the need arises for them to do so.

A silver denarius of Charles the Bald minted at Quentovic following the reform of the coinage enacted by the Edict of Pitres

What the mounted militias mentioned in the Edict of Pitres would have looked like: cavalry depicted in the Golden Psalter of St Gall, St Gallen Stiftsbibliothek, Cod Sang 22 p140


Some analysis of mine

The first thing that is so remarkable about the Edict is the sheer range of different areas of government its provisions entail. Basically, you have all the basic functions of a state covered in the provisions here – justice, law enforcement and the maintenance of public order, national defence and military organisation and the collection of government revenues; they’re all there! But not only that, as the Edict attempts to regulate various aspects of economic and social life, as well as thoroughgoing reform of the state-backed currency. The Edict itself very frequently uses the Latin term res publica (normally translated as state, sometimes as commonwealth). It justifies many of its provisions in terms of the benefit of the state (res publica), as distinct from that of either the king as a person or the political community, and regularly appeals to the public good as well, though who that public was varied a lot. The Carolingians clearly saw themselves as something more than just holy warlords with an imperial Roman gloss, and they saw the kingdoms they presided over as something more than just their private property or a network of personal followers (the semi-mythical personenverbandstaat of German historiography). It is also clear from the edict that the Carolingians had a bureaucracy (however skeletal) with defined public duties and mechanisms for holding them to account over failure to perform those duties and abusing their public authority. A monopoly on violence was undoubtedly out of the reach of the Carolingian state – as is explicit from the provisions of the Edict, the Carolingians had no standing army or professional police forces, and had to rely on the close co-operation of local landowners for the maintenance of law and order. And the Edict does also show the importance of the church and appeals to authority to the successful operation of the Carolingian government. But if those last two criteria disqualify Carolingian West Francia, or indeed all other early medieval kingdoms, from being states then very few polities in the whole of human history have been states. Away with the naysayers! In my not even vaguely Weberian view, the West Frankish polity under the Carolingians was a state by any reasonable definition. How powerful and efficient it was is up for debate, but a state it was nonetheless.

Some of the policies outlined in the Edict, like the first seven provisions dealing with law and order (which in some places echo the Edict of Paris issued in 614 by the Merovingian king Chlothar II), are very basic and one really does wonder about their effectiveness. At the same time, they reflect the best methods then available. And while it would be wrong to say that later medieval governments didn’t make improvements on that front, no quantum leaps were made until long after the conventional endpoint of the Middle Ages. Indeed, the system of law enforcement in Georgian England (but not in eighteenth century France, where professional police forces had been introduced) barely differed in its fundamentals from that described in the Edict of Pitres – a small number of unpaid officials working together with local landowners and the wider community.

By contrast, when it comes to the coinage reform, the intricacy and sophistication of the mechanisms put in place for implementing it is phenomenal for an early medieval government. Indeed, reform of the coinage was where the edict was most successful in its impact, setting standards that would remain in place even after the decline of royal power in West Francia in the tenth and early eleventh centuries, up until the thirteenth century. Likewise the reform of the military provides a fairly robust plan for conscripting the yeomanry and other types of modest freeholders into the royal armies – the only alternative to having to rely on the private retinues of landed aristocrats, given that the Carolingian state did not have the resources to maintain a regular army, and one which gives the state direct access to military manpower. The provisions for reforming the military, along with others like the provisions on markets and rural migration, show the extensive use of written surveys and inquiries by the Carolingian state – the Domesday Book of 1086 had a long heritage, and I would argue that the Edict of Pitres and the legacy of Carolingian government more generally is part of it. In addition, provisions attempting to curb peasant migration and rural land markets demonstrate that an economically and socially interventionist state was not a novelty in the fourteenth century, the sixteenth century or the nineteenth century. Furthermore, all the considerations given towards the communication of the Edict down to the localities and the mechanisms for enforcing it/ holding the officers of the state to account show that this wasn’t just the Carolingian court having big ideas that had no real potential to actually change things on the ground. This goes in the face of the more pessimistic interpretations of the Carolingian reforms, based around the work of Francois Louis Ganshof, Louis Halphen, Heinrich Fichtenau and John Michael Wallace-Hadrill, that dominated the scholarly landscape from the 1940s to the 1980s. Finally, the fact that all of this was introduced in the wake of the Viking threat, invites comparison between Charles the Bald’s administrative reforms and those that Alfred the Great and his successors introduced in Wessex/ England in the struggle against the Scandinavians. After all, lets not forget that Judith, the second wife of Aethelwulf of Wessex and stepmother to Alfred the Great, was the daughter of Charles the Bald. So comparisons between Francia and Anglo-Saxon England are more than appropriate considering their contacts with each other.

The standards set by the Edict of Pitres really did endure for centuries. Here is a silver denarius of Count Fulk V of Anjou, the grandfather of Henry II, minted sometime between 1109 and 1129, when he left his county to become King of Jerusalem. The only difference between this coin and the coins of Charles the Bald post-864 is that the monogram in the middle of the obverse side is no longer recognisably that of the Carolingians (who had gone extinct by that point), and it definitely can't have been minted at one of the ten approved and centrally controlled royal mints mentioned in the Edict.


The most famous bit (among medievalists anyway) at the very end

In the appendix, one of the three provisions there reads (all credit must be given to Simon Coupland, whose translation of the Edict I have used and which you can read in full here  https://www.academia.edu/6680741/The_Edict_of_P%C3%AEtres_translation):

“And it is our wish and express command that if anyone has built castles (castella), fortifications or palisades at this time without our permission, such fortifications shall be demolished by the beginning of August, since those who live nearby have been suffering many difficulties and robberies as a result. And if anyone is unwilling to demolish them, then the counts in whose districts they have been built shall destroy them. And if anyone tries to stop them, they shall be sure to let us know at once. And if they neglect to implement this our command, they shall know that, as it is written in these chapters and in the capitularies of our predecessors, we shall look for counts who are willing and able to obey our orders, and appoint them in our districts.”

This is probably the most famous provision of the Edict, despite only being in the Appendix. It is one of the very earliest written sources to mention castles in France or anywhere else in Western Europe – ninth century Carolingian Frankish sources rarely ever speak of them, unlike tenth century ones where they’re much more common and twelfth century ones where they’re completely ubiquitous. It also appears, on the surface at least, that the Carolingians banned the construction of private fortifications and saw them as a nuisance to public order. The Edict of Pitres is thus undoubtedly part of the early history of the European castle. But what part of it? That is something to be explored in another post, so please stay tuned for more.

 

Images of Carolingian castles are extremely hard to come by (but not completely non-existent, as we'll see in a subsequent post), which may say something about the Edict's general effectiveness. This is pushing into what we'd normally consider to be post-Carolingian, but here's one of the earliest artistic depictions of castle-based warfare from the Leiden Maccabees, Universiteitsbibliotheek Leiden, Codex Per F 17 folio 24v.


Thursday 14 October 2021

1016 and all that

 

On this day of course took place, 955 years ago, the battle of Hastings. The story gets told and retold every year. Walter Carruthers Sellars and Robert Julian Yeatman in the revealingly named "1066 and all that" (1930), their famous satire of how history was taught in British schools in the early twentieth century and how adults remembered it, claimed that, along with Julius Caesar's invasion of Britain in 55 BC, it was one of two truly memorable dates in English history. Indeed, at this very moment the vast majority of English secondary school students in year 7 (11 - 12 year olds) will either still be studying, or will have recently finished, the Norman Conquest in their Key Stage 3 National Curriculum history classes. The choice of 1066 as being the place to begin the secondary school history curriculum is very intentional - while one can argue that it was far from being the great "year zero" of English history, the Norman Conquest is an inherently dramatic story. So memorable a date is it, that banks explicitly advise customers against choosing 1066 as their PIN number. I'm not going to join in with the flood of posts about how William won the battle of Hastings, or what the implications of his victory were for England. Instead, I'm going to look back a good fifty years earlier to another very important (but less memorable) date in English history - 1016. And to a king for whom it could be said that all the events leading up to the Norman Conquest took place in the shadow of - Cnut or Canute, as he's sometimes referred to.



An image of Cnut from the New Minster Liber Vitae, produced in his lifetime (c.1031)

King Cnut (r.1016 - 1035) is probably one of the five pre-conquest English kings that most people know anything about - the others being Offa (r.757 - 796), Alfred (r.871 - 899), Aethelred the Unready (r.978 - 1016) and Edward the Confessor (r.1042 - 1066). Perhaps what he's most famous for, however, is an apocryphal tale first recorded by the twelfth century historian Henry of Huntingdon (d.1157), in which Cnut sits by the seashore and commands the incoming tide not to wet his feet and robes, yet predictably it does. Henry of Huntingdon himself interpreted the story as showing that Cnut was a wise and pious man, trying to rebuke the flatteries of his courtiers by demonstrating that his power was nothing compared to that of God. However, the story has often been spun differently to tell the exact opposite message, and has often been brought up as an analogy for any modern political leader who appears too arrogant or quixotic.


Cnut rebukes his courtiers by Adolphe-Marie-Alphonse de Neuville (1904)



Like with most early medieval rulers, we know almost nothing about Cnut's childhood and adolescence. Even his date of birth is very uncertain - he could have been born in any year between 980 and 1000, though most modern historians opt for c.990. We know his father was King Sweyn Forkbeard of Denmark (d.1014), who was responsible for the renewed wave of Viking invasions on England from 1002 and who had managed to briefly become king of England from 1013 - 1014 after starving the citizens of London into surrendering and electing him king, facilitated by widespread dissatisfaction among the governing elite of Anglo-Saxon England with Aethelred's rule. Its not entirely certain who Cnut's mother was, though she seems most likely to have been a Polish princess. The most contemporary sources, the Chronicon of Bishop Thietmar of Merseburg (d.1017) and the Encomium Emmae Reginae claim that she was Swietoslawa, a daughter of Duke Mieszko I of Poland, though Snorri Sturlusson, writing in the early thirteenth century, claims she was a certain Gunhild, a daughter of Duke/ King Boleslaw the Brave of Poland. And to further complicate things, Adam of Bremen, whose "The Deeds of the Bishops of Hamburg-Bremen" (completed in 1076) is one of the most important sources for the early history of Scandinavia and the first European source to mention the Americas, claimed that she was actually the widow of the King of Sweden. This kind of uncertainty about very basic information is one of the many joys of early medieval history. Its precisely the reason why you won't be seeing a popular biography of Cnut on your bookshelves anytime soon, and why some historians doubt whether early medieval rulers in general are biographable at all (c.f. Sarah Hamilton, ‘Early Medieval Rulers and their Modern Biographers’, Early Medieval Europe, 2003, p 248).



Where Cnut really comes to the fore of the historical record is when he led his invasion of England in 1016. At that time, his brother, Harald II, ruled as King of Denmark. Aethelred the Unready had been invited back to rule as King of England in 1014, after reaching a constitutional settlement with the Witan – the regular assembly of the bishops, abbots, ealdormen (half-way between the post-conquest earl and sheriff), kings thegns (quasi-baronial figures) and thegns (the Anglo-Saxon equivalent of knights or gentry) of the kingdom, which already operated on a doctrine of virtual representation (by Aethelred’s reign it was claiming to speak for the English people and sometimes relayed the concerns of free peasants about the oppressive behaviour of royal officials onto the king) - that placed limits on his power and required him to reform the state apparatus, which was becoming quite expensive and burdensome, and hold his officials to account for their oppressive behaviour. John R Maddicott in “The Origins of the English Parliament, 924 – 1327” (2013) describes it as the first constitutional settlement between crown and subjects in English history, and indeed Cnut and Edward the Confessor would have to make similar agreements in 1018/ 1020 and 1041, setting some important precedents for political thought and practice in centuries to come (see Maddicott, pp 35 – 41). Cnut invaded England in April 1016. King/ Duke Boleslaw the Brave of Poland sent contingents of warriors to assist him, pretty clear evidence that Cnut’s mother was a Polish princess – whether Boleslaw was Cnut’s cousin or his uncle is, however, uncertain. Aethelred died and a very interesting situation arose. While Aethelred’s chief counsellors and the citizens and garrison of London elected Edmund Ironside, Aethelred’s eldest surviving son, to be the new king, a much larger body of representatives from the Witan, including bishops, abbots, ealdormen and thegns, assembled at Southampton and swore to renounce Aethelred’s descendants and elect Cnut as their king provided he promised to be a faithful lord to them. Cnut and Edmund Ironside then fought each other to a stalemate at Assandun before coming to an agreement – Edmund would rule Wessex and Kent (everything south of the Thames) and Cnut would rule Mercia, East Anglia and Northumbria (everything north of the Thames). Edmund died later that year on 30 November 1016, leaving Cnut as sole ruler of England.

Cnut soon proved himself to be an astute and effective ruler. After he had paid off his army and fleet, he decided to keep the Geld – the land tax (the first of its kind since the disappearance of the ancient Roman land tax in the West in the sixth and seventh centuries AD) introduced in the reign of Aethelred, funnily enough for the purpose of paying off the Danes. He used the Geld to fund a permanent standing fleet and to pay for permanent standing contingents of troops, the huscarls and the lithsmen. As the historian James Campbell has argued while calling these contingents a standing army may be straining a point, to deny them the functions of a standing army would be to miss a point as they were paid annually, included men of varied status and served as a mobile field force, as garrisons, as the nucleus of a larger army supplemented by levied free men and as tax collectors (see James Campbell, the Anglo-Saxon State, pp 201 – 206). In effect, Cnut created a kind of embryonic fiscal military state not unlike that of the Great Elector Friedrich Wilhelm I of Brandenburg-Prussia (r.1640 – 1688) many centuries later. In 1020 Cnut, following in the tradition of Anglo-Saxon kings going back to the seventh century, issued a royal law code written in Old English (Anglo-Saxon administrative documents were mostly written in the vernacular, rather than Latin) that as well as containing new laws also provided authoritative compilations of earlier law codes. the laws of King Ine of Wessex (688 – 726), King Alfred the Great and King Edgar the Peaceful (r.959 – 975), thus signally his respect for his Anglo-Saxon predecessors and for his subjects’ native traditions of law and government. Cnut also created a substantially reconstituted and remodelled England’s governing class. Much of the West Saxon nobility had been decimated in the renewed Viking invasions from 991 to 1016, and many other figures would soon fall following Cnut’s rise to power, including the treacherous royal counsellor Eadric Streona (a possible inspiration for Wormtongue in Tolkein’s Lord of the Rings). Cnut replaced the various ealdormanries with a smaller number of provincial earldoms and appointed trusted subordinates to be in charge of them as earls – an earldom was essentially a provincial governorship, it was not yet the hereditary noble title it would later become. Some of his appointees were native Anglo-Saxons/ Englishmen from lesser thegnly (gentry) backgrounds – for example, Godwin was appointed Earl of Wessex and Kent and Leofric was appointed Earl of Mercia. But he also appointed a number of Scandinavians – firstly Thorkell the Tall then Osgod Clapa served as earls of East Anglia and Siward (who features in Shakespeare’s Macbeth) as Earl of Northumbria. Whether or not this meant that he created a loyal and efficient service aristocracy or a bunch of overmighty subjects has been much debated by historians since the late nineteenth century. All in all, through a mixture of effective statecraft and strategic use of royal patronage supplemented by political communication that signalled continuity with his predecessors, Cnut managed to consolidate a firm hold over England. A clear sign of how much political stability and internal and external peace England enjoyed under Cnut was that he was able to go on a pilgrimage to Rome in 1027. There, he nabbed a chance to attend the coronation of the Holy Roman Emperor, Conrad II (d.1037), the first emperor of the Salian dynasty (c.1024 – 1125), at St Peter’s, making him the first (and last) English king to attend an imperial coronation.

 


Early Twelfth Century depiction of Emperor Conrad II


Cnut also expanded his power to other realms, creating what some historians have called a “North Sea Empire.” In 1018, after his brother Harald II’s death, he became King of Denmark, and began to win some influence and possibly overlordship over the Norse colonies in Ireland – the coins of the Norse kings of Dublin from 1017 to 1025 bear Cnut’s quatrefoil legend rather than the traditional legend of the Norse kings of Dublin. Later in 1027, after Cnut’s pilgrimage to Rome, King Malcolm II of Scots (the grandfather of the King Duncan who features in Macbeth – quite a few Shakespeare characters finding their way into this, aren’t they) would pay homage to Cnut and accept him as his overlord – this would lead the Burgundian monk Raoul Glaber, writing in the 1030s, to claim that Cnut had some kind of imperial overlordship over all the British Isles. King Cnut would then exploit an internal political crisis in Norway to take control there when the Norwegian nobles and peasants, who were disatissfied by the rule of King Olaf Haraldsson, invited him to become their king in 1028, and in 1029 Olaf was exiled to the Viking principalities in Russia. Cnut also managed to, besides his pilgrimage and attendance of Conrad II’s coronation, deepen ties with Germany with Germany and the Empire and secure Danish control of Schleswig-Holstein by marrying his daughter Gunhild to Conrad’s son, Henry (the future Emperor Henry III).


Coin of Olaf Haraldsson


When Cnut died, he left two sons to succeed him. The first was Harald Harefoot, the son of a concubine or a common law wife (a wife not married in a church ceremony with ecclesiastical sanction but still recognised as a wife under Danish law). There was still very little stigma around illegitimacy in Western Europe in this period (that would only really come into place in the twelfth century), not least among recently Christianised peoples like the Danes, so there was no obstacle to Harald Harefoot becoming king. The other was Harthacnut, the son of Cnut’s wife Emma of Normandy (984 – 1052), the widow of Aethelred the Unready and mother of Edward the Confessor.  Harthacnut succeeded Cnut in Denmark and Harald Harefoot in England. Harald was opposed by much of the political community in England, but Earl Godwin was able to sway the Witan in favour of Harald’s candidacy – maybe he really was an overmighty subject. Harald Harefoot died in 1040, and was succeeded by Harathacnut. The following year, Harthacnut invited his half-brother Edward the Confessor, who had spent almost all his life living in exile in Normandy with his maternal cousins (the dukes of Normandy), to return to England in 1041, no doubt at the persuasion of his mother. He was also designated as his successor, with the Witan making it conditional that Edward agree to uphold the laws of King Cnut and govern the kingdom justly. A year later Harthacnut died, as recounted by the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle after experiencing a seizure whilst drinking, or perhaps he might have been poisoned. Thus it was thanks to Cnut’s choice of marriages that Edward the Confessor was able to come to the throne in 1042 at all, and that, well, set the stage for everything to come.


Emma of Normandy (a key player in it all) as depicted in the Encomium which she herself commissioned the writing of


As was stated earlier, Cnut was responsible for the rise of Earl Godwine, and under the new regime, headed by a 40 year-old who had spent most of his life in France, Earl Godwin managed to use his political leverage, which as we have already seen was very great, to win more power for his family. He managed to get Edward to marry his daughter, Edith, and by 1046 four out of seven earldoms were in the hands of Godwin and his sons Sweyn and Harold. Godwin was also married to Gytha, a Danish noblewoman and a relative of Cnut’s. Gytha’s nephew, Sweyn Estridsson, managed to become King of Denmark in 1047 after having defeated Magnus the Good, the son of the exiled King Olaf of Norway who had seized control of Denmark and Norway in the power vacuum following Harthacnut’s death. Sweyn II tried to take control of Norway after Magnus’ death but was prevented from doing so by a charismatic old-school Viking adventurer, Harald Hardrada, who the political community in Norway chose instead to be their king. Indeed, before his invasion of England in September 1066, leading up to the battle of Stamford Bridge, Harald Hardrada would try to take Denmark off Sweyn on multiple occasions.


Edward and much of the political community in England would come to resent the overbearing influence of Godwin and his family and in the late 1040s they did much to discredit themselves. Edith, for whatever reason, failed to produce Edward a son. Sweyn Godwinson abducted (and possibly raped) the abbes of Leominster in 1046, had his earldom promptly confiscated and was sent into exile, before being invited back, murdering his cousin Bjorn and being sent into exile again in 1049 – he died in Constantinople in 1052, on his way back from the Holy Land. And Earl Godwin did much to discredit himself when the Witan vetoed his attempts in 1047 for the English navy to be sent to help his nephew Sweyn II against Magnus because, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle “it seemed unwise to everybody.” These events would create tensions that would almost ferment a civil war and result in the entire Godwine family being exiled from England in 1051. Later in 1051, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, Edward would invite his cousin Duke William the Bastard of Normandy to visit England, and may have temporarily designated him as his successor (which William may have then interpreted as binding), thus setting the stage for 1066. Of course, the Godwin family would bounce back and in January 1066 no one could doubt that Harold Godwinson, Earl of Wessex and Kent, was the most powerful magnate in England, hence why, whether by the prudent decision-making of the Witan or by a carefully planned coup, he was able to succeed Edward the Confessor as king of England.

Thus, without Cnut, none of the three contenders in the great struggle of 1066 – Harold Godwinson, William of Normandy and Harald Hardrada – would have been in the position to claim the throne of England, indeed Harold Godwinson wouldn’t have even existed given that Cnut was responsible for bringing his parents together. Indeed its very odd that William the Conqueror gets singled out for his Scandinavian connections because his great-great-great grandfather, Rollo (d.930), was a Viking, while Harold Godwinson was literally half-Danish. William the Conqueror may have been a direct descendant of Rollo, but he was also the 8x great-grandson of Charlemagne, and its pretty clear both from William’s own personality and style of rule and from what mid-eleventh century Norman government, society and culture was like that the Frankish heritage mattered a great deal more than the Viking one. But lets not get too sidetracked from our general conclusion, that the events of Cnut’s reign were fundamental in setting the stage for the Norman Conquest, and that the events of 1066 were basically the three most formidable warlords in Northwest Europe fighting over the debris of Cnut’s legacy. 

 


Why this book needs to be written part 1

Reason One: the Carolingian achievement is a compelling historical problem This one needs a little unpacking. Put it simply, in the eighth c...