Showing posts with label Vikings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vikings. 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.


Sunday, 9 January 2022

Edward the Confessor's foreign policy

 Happy new year everyone. I hope you've had a good 2021, in spite of the constantly evolving plague situation, and that much happiness and success awaits you in 2022, which will hopefully be less chaotic but we'll have to wait and see. I have to say that last year was a year in which I accomplished a lot - I got a Merit on my Master's Degree, I got my first regular paid job, I did a presentation on late Carolingian assembly politics in Richer of Rheims (an aspect of my Master's thesis) to the Cambridge graduate medieval seminar, I secured a PGCE place at Roehampton University to train as a secondary school history teacher and, of course, I accomplished what I'd been meaning to do for a very long time in starting a history blog. What 2022 shall bring for me, only time can tell. If the international situation permits it, I hope to go travelling in Europe in May and June for a big late Roman and early medieval tour (Rheims, Trier, Aachen, Cologne, Ravenna and Milan are all on the itinerary). I'm incredibly excited about it, and you can reasonably expect that many interesting blogposts (with lots of pretty pictures) will be generated from it in due course. 

I've been planning many exciting blogposts for this new year. The first of these, the one you are presently reading is the one on Edward the Confessor - the 956th anniversary of his death (5 January 1066) having been just a couple of days ago (I'm ever so timely, am I!). I'm not going to give a comprehensive treatment of his life and reign here. That would take far too long for a simple blogpost, and at any rate, if that's what you wanted, you'd be best advised to read Frank Barlow's excellent biography of the king in the Yale Monarchs series, or to the abbreviated version in the Oxford Dictionary of National Biography which I shall be citing a lot here. Nor will I be telling the familiar, well-trodden story of the prelude to the Norman Conquest - that gets so much attention in UK historical media anyway, and I've already touched on that a bit here.

I don't this image needs much explanation

What I'm going to talk about today is about a specific aspect of Edward the Confessor's reign - his foreign policy. It is very well-known that Edward the Confessor had close connections to the Continent - his mother was Emma of Normandy, after all, and he spent more than a third of his life in exile there. Anyone who has studied this period in English history in depth will also know that his court had a very cosmopolitan feel to it. Edward the Confessor made a Norman monk, Robert of Jumieges, archbishop of Canterbury in 1044, appointed more than half a dozen foreigners to other vacant bishoprics and abbacies across the country, had a non-English cleric called Regenbald as his chancellor and made his French nephew, Ralph of Mantes, the earl of Hereford in 1047 (we'll come back to him later). And one of Edward the Confessor's greatest, most well-remembered achievements (to this day), was building Westminster Abbey (completed 28 December 1065) in the new Romanesque style that had been pioneered in the previous half century in France, northern Italy and western Germany - the "white mantle of churches" that the Burgundian chronicler Raoul Glaber had written about roughly thirty years before. But Edward the Confessor's connections to Normandy and his cosmopolitan court aside, its the  domestic side of his reign that gets the most attention. 

Now, as regards Edward's domestic rule, there's a lot of debate amongst historians to who was really in charge of the kingdom's internal affairs and what was the balance of power between the king and his aristocracy (above all, Earl Godwin and his family). The view among most scholars up until very recently was that Edward the Confessor's effective control over the kingdom internally was massively circumscribed by an "overmighty" nobility, which really amounted to the three magnate houses - the Godwinsons, the Leofricsons and the Siwardsons - that had risen to prominence under Cnut and his sons and had effectively monopolised appointments to almost all of the six or seven provincial earldoms. Robin Fleming argued in a seminal and very influential work "Kings and Lords in Conquest England" (1991), with a wealth of statistics backing her arguments, that the wealth and landed resources of the Godwin family, and to an even extent that of the three main magnate families combined, outstripped that of the king. Barlow himself in his ODNB article largely concurs with Fleming's view, and thus he sees Edward the Confessor as being in quite a compromised position when it came to controlling the kingdom's political elite and internal affairs.

Recently, this view of the balance of political power between king and aristocracy has been challenged by Stephen Baxter, one of the foremost experts on late Anglo-Saxon government and the Domesday Book at the moment (I was fortunate enough to attend a few of his seminars at Oxford back in 2019, which feels like a very long time ago), who in his article "1066 and Government" (2018), and in his academic output more generally, has made the case that Edward was actually by far the wealthiest landowner in the kingdom both in terms of the extent and real value of his estates. He was also able to draw on revenues from food rents, judicial fines and the land tax (geld) which the earls could not. And above all, as Baxter argues quite succintly, most of the lands the earls "owned" were, like with counts in the ninth century Carolingian Empire, were actually temporary, revocable grants attached to their office, not to their family property, and so it was more than possible to break the power of earls by confiscating their offices and the lands that went with it, as Edward himself actually showed time and again (see "1066 and Government", pp 138 - 140).  Still there's plenty of room for debate about the nature of pre-Conquest English royal power and government - these scholarly debates never settle, do they!/

But, what all historians can agree on is that Edward the Confessor was in control of the kingdom's external affairs, which is what concerns us here. We'll explore Edward's policies to both England's neighbours in Great Britain and on mainland Europe, though Normandy will be deliberately left out (it gets enough attention elsewhere).

Wales and Scotland 

In the Abingdon and Worcester versions (Manuscripts C and D) of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, an obituary poem for King Edward is provided in the annals for 1065. The first verse goes:

Here King Edward, lord of the English, 
sent a righteous soul to Christ.
a holy spirit into God's keeping.
Here in the world he lived for a while
in kingly splendour, skilful in counsel;
24-and-a-half
in number of years, a noble ruler,
distributed riches. Aethelred's son
ruler of heroes, greatly distinguished,
ruled Welsh and Scots and Britons too,
Angles and Saxons, combatant champions.
Cold sea waves thus encircle
all youthful men that loyally
obeyed Edward, princely king.

The poem thus portrays Edward as having been, in effect, the imperial overlord of all Great Britain, as some of his tenth century predecessors undoubtedly had been (more about that when I finally get round to doing my Athelstan post I've been meaning to do ever since he won the World Cup of Monarchs in November, I promise you!). But what was the real substance behind it?

At the beginning of Edward the Confessor's reign in 1042, it would seem that this wasn't the case at all. The kingdom of the Scots (also known as Alba) was completely independent, as were the three Welsh kingdoms of Deheubarth, Gwynedd and Powys. Cumbria and Westmorland were in a bit of a power vacuum, following the collapse of the Welsh-speaking kingdom of Strathclyde sometime after the battle of Carham in 1018, but the kings of Scots were slowly extending their power into the region. 




The first we hear of Anglo-Welsh relations in Edward the Confessor's reign is in 1046, when the Worcester manuscript of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle reports that Sweyn Godwinson (d.1052), earl of southwestern Mercia (Herefordshire, Gloucestershire and Oxfordshire), made an alliance with Gruffydd ap Llewellyn (1010 - 1063), the king of Gwynedd and Powys, and together they invaded Deheubarth. Whether he did this on Edward's instruction, or out of his own initiative and the leeway given to him as a provincial governor (as that's basically what an Anglo-Saxon earl was) on a frontier region, we can't really know though the latter seems likely. Sweyn would disgrace himself later that year by kidnapping and raping the Abbess of Leominster, resulting in him being stripped of his earldom and exiled from the kingdom. Gruffydd ap Llewellyn's alliance with the English would prove to be a short-term arrangement for mutual convenience when he teamed up with some Irish Vikings from Dublin to raid England on 29 July 1049. Other than that, not much seems to have gone on for the first decade of Edward the Confessor's reign.

Things escalated when in 1053, Edward managed to get Rhys ap Rhydderch, the king of Deheubarth, assassinated, after Rhys had raided Westbury-on-Severn in Gloucestershire and slaughtered the garrison there a few months earlier. This created a power vacuum in South Wales, which Gruffydd ap Llewellyn was quick to exploit, and by 1055 Gruffydd had established himself as high king.

Now that Wales was politically unified under a charismatic leader, more border warfare was to ensue. In 1055, Edward the Confessor convened the Witan (royal assembly of all the prominent landowners in the realm) and by their collective judgement, Earl Aelfgar of East Anglia was dismissed from his earldom and outlawed. Our sources are in disagreement as to why this happened. Manuscript E (written at Canterbury) of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle says that Earl Aelfgar was exiled for being a "traitor." Manuscript D (Worcester) says he was exiled "almost without any fault" and Manuscript C (Abingdon) says that he was exiled "without any fault." What explains the dissonant accounts seems to be, as Stephen Baxter has argued in his article "MSC of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and the politics of mid-eleventh century England", English Historical Review Volume CCXXII (2007), pp 1189 - 1127, that Manuscript E, which was written in Kent (part of Godwin's earldom), was written by a chronicler supportive of Earl Godwin and his family. Meanwhile, the other two manuscripts were written in southern Mercia by chroniclers who were more critical of the House of Godwin and their influence and more sympathetic to the house of Leofric (which Aelfgar was from), the difference between C and D being that the latter has a more court-centred outlook, reflecting the patronage of the leading courtier Bishop Ealdred of Worcester (future archbishop of York) in its production, whereas C is more provincial in its perspective. Thus D sort of sides with the royal court and the political community at large in the position they took, but sort of gives some sympathy to Aelfgar, whereas C is firmly opposed to it all. But anyway, Earl Aelfgar was indeed made an outlaw and he wasn't going to sit back and take it. Instead, he managed to enlist the support of King Gruffydd of Wales and the Irish Vikings in Dublin, the former providing him with an army and the latter with a fleet, and together they invaded England. Aelfgar and Gruffydd managed to defeat a royal army, led by the Confessor's nephew, Earl Ralph the Timid without a pitched battle, and the Welsh then pursued them and massacred them. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle Manuscript C says the royal army fled "because they were on horse", and John of Worcester elaborated on that passage in the early twelfth century by saying that Earl Ralph ordered the English to fight on horseback "contrary to their custom", but Earl Ralph and his retinue of French knights got demoralised and started to flee, at which point the English fled too. Gruffydd and Aelfgar then proceeded to sack Hereford, badly damaging the brand new cathedral there. Another royal army, commanded by Harold Godwinson, assembled at Gloucester, and Harold had a defensive dyke built around the town. Earl Aelfgar decided to open negotiations and an agreement was made at Harold's manor of Holme Lacy in Herefordshire, whereby Earl Aelfgar was restored to his office as earl and his personal estates came back into his possession. 

In 1056, Hereford got a new bishop, Leofgar, a former chaplain of Harold Godwinson. Manuscripts C and D, with their Mercian focus, discuss his character, whereas Manuscript E gives him no attention whatsoever. Both C and D are highly disapproving of his character, regarding him as too worldly and secular. They describe how "he wore his moustaches during his priesthood until he was bishop" - this went against the Canon law of the Church, which prescribed that priests be clean-shaven and tonsured. More ambiguous in relation to canon law (and a highly common practice, at any rate) was when Bishop Leofgar, presumably acting on the king's orders:

Abandoned his chrism and cross, his spiritual weapons, after his ordination as bishop, and took up his spear and sword and went thus to the campaign against Gruffydd, the Welsh king, and they killed him there, and his priests with him, and the sheriff Aelfnoth and many good men with them; and the others fled away.

Manuscript C of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, but interestingly not D, then recounts how what followed this inglorious defeat of the English army was that:

Earl Leofric [of Mercia] and Earl Harold [of Wessex] and Bishop Ealdred arrived and made reconciliation between them there, so that Gruffydd swore oaths that he would be a loyal and undeceiving under-king to King Edward.

This would seem to imply that Gruffydd, after receiving this embassy, most likely sent by King Edward himself, agreed to become a kind of English client-king. Gruffydd then married Ealdgyth, the daughter of Earl Aelfgar (who had succeeded his father, Leofric, as earl of Mercia), the following year and from what the Anglo-Saxon chronicle tells us, the Welsh border was generally peaceful after that. 

Yet, at the same time, Edward knew how dangerous this ruler of a unified Wales had been in the past, and so was determined to eliminate him once and for all. Once the one-time rebel Earl Aelfgar had died, and Edward had placated his son Edwin by giving him the office of earl of Mercia that had been held by his father and grandfather before him, he decided that war with Wales was on the cards and hostilities resumed in 1063. Manuscript E gives a very terse, brief account of the war, but D goes into a lot more detail (C has no annals for 1057 - 1064):

In this year Earl Harold went after midwinter from Gloucester [on instructions from King Edward, who was holding his court there] to Rhuddlan, which was Gruffydd's, and burnt down the manor, and his ships and all the equipment which belonged to them, and brought him to flight. And then towards the Rogation Days [26 - 28 of May] Harold went with ships to Bristol, round Wales, and that people made peace and gave hostages; and Tostig went against them with a land-army, and overran that land. But here in this same year, at harvest, at fifth August, King Gruffydd was killed by his own men, because of the struggle he was waging with Earl Harold. He was king over all the Welsh race, and his head was brought to Earl Harold, and Harold brought it to the king - and his ship's figurehead and the embellishment with it. And the King Edward entrusted that land to his [Gruffydd's] two brothers, Bleddyn and Rhiwallon; and they swore oaths and gave hostages to the king and to the earl that they would be undeceiving to him in all things, and everywhere ready [to serve] him on water and on land, and likewise to pay from that land what was formerly done before to the other king.

Thanks to a feat of strategic genius on the part of the Godwinson brothers, King Gruffydd had been defeated and killed without it coming to so much as a single pitched battle, the unified Welsh kingdom that Gruffydd had briefly managed to create was broken up again and the two brothers of Llewellyn had agreed to become full-blown tribute-paying client-kings to Edward the Confessor, thus reviving the quasi-imperial overlordship over Wales that Edward's tenth century predecessors from Athelstan to Edgar had had. No English king would win such an all-out, crushing victory campaigning in Wales until Edward I (for whom Edward the Confessor was his namesake) more than 200 years later, and even then in a much longer, more drawn out campaign. By the end of 1063, Edward had achieved all he could have set out to do with Wales - he had neutralised all threats from across the border, ended Welsh political unity and brought back English overlordship over Wales.

The sources are largely silent about Anglo-Scottish relations until the middle of Edward the Confessor's reign. At the time of Edward the Confessor's accession in 1042, Scotland was ruled by none other than ...

Yes, this guy was a real historical figure, and he lived in the eleventh century


Macbeth. Yes him. But the historical Macbeth doesn't seem to be the bloodstained tyrant plagued by his conscience and insecure about his legitimacy that William Shakespeare portrayed him as in his 1604 eponymous play. Nor does he seem to have encountered any witches or ghosts in his fifty-something years of life. Scotland in Macbeth's day was essentially a tribal federation - the king of Scots was essentially a high-king ruling over various mormaers (sub-kings), each of whom ruled a specific territory. Macbeth was the Mormaer of Moray (see the map of Scotland c.1040 below).



Now, the thing is, even by early medieval standards, our sources for Scottish history pre-1100 are very few and fragmentary indeed - no continuous chronicle of Scotland's medieval history survives prior to John of Fordun, writing in the 1360s. Thus there's a great deal of uncertainty about Macbeth's genealogy. We know his father was Finlay mac Ruadri. But before then we're much less certain, though Dauvit Broun in his article on Macbeth in the ODNB argues we have good reason to think that he was either the grandson or nephew of King Malcolm II of Scots (d.1034). Macbeth was married to Gruoch (the real life Lady Macbeth), who was probably the granddaughter of King Kenneth II (d.995). Now, Scotland in this period was not yet a hereditary monarchy. Instead, royal succession was governed by an ancient Gaelic system (also used in Ireland) of royal inheritance known as tanistry, whereby the king's successor would be elected from amongst his collateral relatives by the clan chieftains and other senior nobles. So Macbeth, as a collateral member of the royal house himself married to another collateral member of the royal house, actually had a decent claim to the throne. Indeed, and also demonstrative of how powerful and dominant the mormaers of Moray were within the kingdom of Scots/ Alba, Macbeth's father Finlay was mistaken by contemporary Irish annalists for the king of Scots himself. Perhaps it was natural that Macbeth came into conflict with King Duncan I of Scots (the King Duncan of Shakespeare's play). But rather than dishonourably stabbing him to death in his bedchamber - "is this a dagger I see before me? Let me clutch it" - Macbeth killed Duncan in pitched battle on 14 August 1040, and shortly afterwards was acclaimed king of Scots. 

As I said before, the sources are very scanty, so we know very little about what went on in Macbeth's reign. From what we can gather, his position was initially insecure - in 1045, King Duncan's father, Crinan, hereditary abbot of Dunkeld, rose up in rebellion to install his 14 year old grandson Malcolm Canmore (the Malcolm of Shakespeare's play) on the throne, but Macbeth defeated and killed him in battle. But by 1050, he seems to have managed to consolidate his rule and the kingdom seems to have been fairly secure and politically stable. It was in that year that he, like Cnut 23 years earlier, went on a pilgrimage to Rome, "scattering coins like seed" according to a contemporary account, and for an early medieval ruler, living as they did in an age before modern communications, to be able to travel more than 1,500 miles away from the kingdom without their noble subjects opportunistically rising up in rebellion or foreign kings deciding to invade really is no small political achievement. It also indicates that Macbeth had at least some kind of royal administration, however rudimentary, that could govern the kingdom and hold it altogether in his absence. And like Edward the Confessor, Macbeth seems to have had quite a cosmopolitan court - in 1052, two Norman knights entered his service.

When Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane ...


But this was not to last. Once Malcolm Canmore reached maturity, Edward the Confessor saw a window of opportunity to extend his influence into Scottish affairs. In 1054, Earl Siward of Northumbria (who does feature in Shakespeare's Macbeth) was sent north with an army and the royal fleet, Macbeth was defeated in battle at Dunsinane Hill on 27 July and put to flight, and Malcolm Canmore was installed as King Malcolm III of Scots. Macbeth was killed by Malcolm (not by Macduff) in 1057, and Macbeth's stepson Lulach was slain in 1058. Malcolm III did indeed attend Edward the Confessor's Christmas court at Gloucester in 1059, but, as Frank Barlow points out, on the whole he was not the subservient vassal that the obituary poem in the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle would seem to imply - indeed, he began to devise plans to annex all the Northumbrian territories down to the River Tees - the modern day boundary between County Durham and North Yorkshire. So while Edward the Confessor had some success in throwing his weight around in Scotland's internal dynastic affairs, he didn't exactly achieve the imperial overlordship he managed in the end with Wales. Nor did he manage to guarantee that the kingdom's northern borders, which at this point were still very ill-defined and fluid, were secure from future Scottish incursions.

Denmark and Norway

If we cast our minds back to my Cnut post, we'll be reminded that England, Denmark and Norway were all part of a North Sea Empire, that then began to unravel after Cnut's death in 1035. Norway had been the first to break away, coming under the control of King Magnus the Good, the son of St Olaf (d.1028), the king of Norway whom Cnut had defeated and exiled. Meanwhile, Denmark, after Cnut's line became extinct in 1042, Sweyn Estridsson claimed the throne. Sweyn was the son of Ulf Thorgilsson, a Danish jarl (earl) who had acted acted as regent of Denmark in Cnut's absence. Ulf had a sister called Gytha Thorkelsdottir (997 - 1069), who was married to none other than Earl Godwin of Wessex. Sweyn's mother was Estrid, a daughter of King Sweyn I Forkbeard of Denmark. So Sweyn was a nephew of Earl Godwin on his father's side and of King Cnut on his mother's side. However, Magnus the Good promptly invaded Denmark in 1042 and seized the throne, sending Sweyn into exile.

Coin of Magnus the Good, minted between 1042 and 1047 at Lund in Denmark, based on a prototype of King Cnut's depicting the crowned king on the obverse side and a cross on the reverse


King Sweyn and King Edward seem to have gotten on well from the start - the Life of King Edward who rests at Westimster written in 1068 by a monk of the abbey of Saint Bertin in Flanders on the request of Edith, Edward's widowed queen, says that a "king of the Danes", attended Edward the Confessor's coronation in 1043, and that king being referred to is most likely to have been Sweyn in exile, although it could have been Magnus.

Magnus the Good wanted to restore the North Sea Empire of Cnut for himself. That ambition would not be complete without conquering England. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle's annals for 1043 recount this unexpected turn of events happening:

The King was so counselled that he - and Earl Leofric and Earl Godwine and Earl Siward and their band - rode from Gloucester to Winchester on the Lady [Emma] by surprise, and robbed her of all the treasures which she owned, which were untold, because earlier she was very hard on the king her son, in that she did less for him than he wanted before he became king, and also afterwards; and they let her stay there inside afterwards.

In other words, Edward had just orchestrated a coup against his own mother, the twice-queen of England, twice-widowed Emma of Normandy. Why did he do this? The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle deliberately leaves it vague. However, the Translation of St Mildred, written in the 1090s by Goscelin of Saint-Bertin, a Flemish monk living in Norman England who was a prolific writer of Anglo-Saxon saints' lives, alleges that Emma had promised all her (clearly very extensive) treasure to King Magnus of Norway if he were to invade England. Simon Keynes in his ODNB article on Emma and Cat Jarman in an article for BBC history magazine, however, argue that a more likely explanation is that Edward wanted to assert his independence from his mother and prevent her from having an active political role, which she undoubtedly had under her second husband Cnut and Edward's half-brother Harthacnut. Emma then lived out the remaining decade of her life in relative obscurity at Winchester, where she and Cnut had built the new cathedral. 

The invasion threat from Magnus of Norway, however, was undoubtedly there. In 1045, Edward took the royal fleet down to Sandwich in Kent, and, according to Manuscript D of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, and assembled "so great a raiding army that no one had ever seen a greater raiding-ship army in this land" in anticipation of Magnus' invasion. 

What Edward the Confessor feared was coming his way in 1045


In the end, the invasion did not materialise, as Magnus had to divert his attention to fighting off Sweyn Estridsson's attempts to take Denmark off him, which were receiving support from Magnus' own uncle, Harald Hardrada, who was making a bid for the Norwegian throne. In 1047, Sweyn II would request naval assistance from Edward the Confessor  - England's taxpayer-funded, standing fleet that had developed under the West Saxon and Anglo-Danish kings was highly desirable and the second most powerful man in the kingdom, Earl Godwin, was Sweyn's uncle - to help him in his war against King Magnus, but King Edward and the Witan refused, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, on the grounds that "it seemed unwise to everybody." King Magnus would die later that year, the kingdom of Denmark going to Sweyn II and the kingdom of Norway going to Harald Hardrada. Harald Hardrada saw Denmark as rightfully his, and he and Sweyn fought a long war for control of it between 1050 and 1064, which ended in Harald giving up his claims to Denmark in return for Sweyn's recognition of him as king of Norway. Edward the Confessor chose to stay out of it, and in 1051 abolished the Heregeld (army tax) that had been levied continuously to finance the royal armies since 1012, a decision that was undoubtedly popular with the political community, for in the words of the Anglo-Saxon chronicle "that tax oppressed the whole English nation for as long a period [39 years] as it is here written above; it always came before other taxes that were variously paid, and oppressed men in manifold ways." Thus Edward's foreign policy towards Scandinavia from 1047 on was eminently sensible. By not taking a side in the wars between Sweyn Estridsson and the kings of Norway over the Danish throne he ensured that neither could be a threat to England's security, and he avoided getting into costly wars that would make him unpopular with the political community and the people at large from the tax burden it would inevitably impose on them. 

Coin of Sweyn Estridsson, minted at Lund sometime between 1047 and 1076. The obverse depicts Sweyn (left) receiving a staff from an angel (right) - a motif borrowed from Byzantine coinage.


France, Flanders and the German Empire

As I said before, Edward the Confessor had many connections to mainland Europe. So its hardly surprising that he pursued close relations with the most immediate powers on the other side of the English Channel and on the southern shore of the North Sea. According to the The Life of King Edward, all the rulers of "Gaul" welcomed his accession in 1042 with congratulatory embassies, with King Henry III of Germany (and Burgundy and Italy) and King Henry I of France being explicitly mentioned. In fact, Henry III was Edward's brother-in-law - Edward's half-sister Gunhilda, the daughter of Cnut and Emma of Normandy, was the queen-consort of Germany. Henry I of France is erroneously referred to by the author of the Life of King Edward as being "another kinsman" of the Confessor.  

Emperor Henry III, holding the imperial insignia, attends the consecration of Stavelot abbey church on 5 June 1040, as depicted in a mid-eleventh century miniature


Edward does not seem to have had many active dealings with Henry I after that. While Henry I did have plenty of standing in the international community - in 1051, he would marry Anna of Kiev, the daughter of Grand Prince Yaroslav the Wise of the Rus - his position within the kingdom was extremely weak. Henry I's father, king  King Robert the Pious (r.996 - 1031), had had a disastrous reign in which he spent 15 years fighting to assert royal authority in the the duchy of Burgundy, went through two divorces before contracting a highly unpopular marriage to Constance of Arles, experienced scares about heresy and ended on a sour note with the king fighting a civil war against two of his sons. This, combined with deeper shifts in the nature of political power in France (more about that another time), meant that Henry I decided that it was best for the monarchy to withdraw into the Ile de France - the area around Paris. The map below shows in light blue the extent of the area that Henry I had any real power over, and even there it was starting to get a little shaky as the barons and petty seigneurs of the Ile de France went gung ho with castle-building. Still, what was left of his royal authority meant he could at least appoint bishops to the powerful ecclesiastical lordships in purple on the map, which could guarantee a degree of loyalty and service from them. But with the great dukes and counts of the realm - who by now really were territorial princes in every sense of the word - he was almost a foreign power. And yet some historians still talk about Edward the Confessor being beset upon by an "overmighty" nobility - to Henry I of France, his situation would have seemed enviable. As a result, Edward the Confessor's foreign policy towards France would mainly focus on negotiating with the territorial princes closest to England - namely, the dukes of Normandy and counts of Flanders. 

Apologies for the map being in French - it really was the best I could find

While we might say that the middle decades of the eleventh century were the ultimate low point for French royal power and authority in the Middle Ages, the opposite was true of the French kingdom's eastern neighbour. The decade in which Edward the Confessor came to the throne of England, the 1040s, was arguably the high-watermark for the kings of Germany/ the kings of the Romans (as they were officially called)/ the western emperors. These king-emperors ruled over two kingdoms, Germany and Italy, and under Conrad II, the first king-emperor of the Salian dynasty and the father of Henry III, they had absorbed the kingdom of Burgundy (depicted in both the map above and the one below, highlighted in yellow there) into their empire in 1032 following the extinction of its dynasty of kings. To the east, the realms of Poland, Bohemia and Hungary were satellite states, and to a certain extent Denmark to the north was as well. Within the German kingdom, all the duchies except Saxony were held either by the king-emperor himself, by members of his immediate family or by his loyal appointees. And through the imperial church system, the emperor could nominate all the bishops in the empire and invest them with the ring and staff - the symbols of their office. He was also advocate of many of the monastic houses in Germany, meaning that he stood for them in legal disputes. Thus, the bishops and many of the abbots essentially held their lands from him, and could always be expected to furnish large numbers of troops for him on military campaigns, both from their own personal retinues and free tenants and from the knights the emperor had billeted on their lands. Bishops could also be assigned to govern counties when they fell vacant, and could be given royal lands, mints and castles to administer by the emperor. The German king-emperors may not have ruled in depth like the kings of England - they had no powers of national taxation, and the business of justice and keeping the peace in the localities was largely left to the dukes, counts and bishops and to local communities - but they were undoubtedly the most powerful rulers in the whole of Western and Central Europe at this time. And ideologically, they could claim to be the protectors of Christendom, responsible for both the bodies and souls within it, and to be the heirs of Otto the Great, Charlemagne and, ultimately, of the ancient Roman emperors. 

The kingdom of Germany/ the Western Empire in the period 1042 - 1066

Even so, as this is the eleventh century we're dealing with after all, life wasn't all sunshine and roses for the king-emperors, and indeed cracks were already starting to appear in the mighty edifice of the western empire. A key problem area was Lotharingia - the western frontier region that encompassed the modern-day Netherlands, Luxembourg, half of Belgium, the regions of Alsace and Lorraine in eastern France and parts of western Germany. As you may recall from my post on the treaty of Verdun, once upon a time Lotharingia had been its own kingdom. Since 939, the aristocracy of Lotharingia had decided firmly that they wanted to be part of the German kingdom. The Ottonian dynasty had divided it up into two separate duchies in 960s, Upper and Lower Lotharingia (depicted on the map), so that no magnate house could grow too powerful there. Lotharingia was, however, vulnerable to external threats. The last Carolingian kings of France had tried to reconquer it on various occasions in the tenth century, with limited success. And as royal power declined in France, the French territorial princes on Lotharingia's borders became a nuisance. Indeed, Emperor Conrad II had had to bring upper and lower Lotharingia together again to face the threat posed by Count Odo II of Blois-Champagne (his territories are shown in yellow in the map of France). After Odo had failed against Conrad in his bid for the Burgundian crown in 1032, Conrad decided to put Duke Gothelo of Lower Lotharingia (967 - 1044) in charge of Upper Lotharingia as well, reunifying the two duchies as a super-duchy, in 1033, anticipating that there would be an invasion from Odo, who really was looking to expand his territories at every conceivable opportunity. In 1037, when Emperor Conrad II was on the other side of the Alps sorting out Italian affairs, Odo decided to make a land grab on the Empire's western borders, but was defeated in battle by the forces of Duke Gothelo of Lotharingia at the battle of Bar-le-Duc and killed while attempting to retreat. However, when Duke Gothelo died in 1044, Conrad's successor, Henry III, appointed Gothelo's son, Godfrey the Bearded (997 - 1069), to the duchy of Upper Lotharingia, but denied him the duchy of Lower Lotharingia as he feared that a single super-duchy gave the duke too much power. Instead, he proposed that Godfrey's younger brother, Gothelo II, get the Duchy of Lower Lotharingia. Henry III also refused to give Godfrey the county of Verdun, which he saw as his rightful inheritance. Godfrey thus rebelled against his king and went about devastating Lower Lorraine, but he was defeated in battle, deposed as duke and imprisoned in the royal castle of Gibichenstein. In 1045, Godfrey was set free and the rebellion recommenced again. This time, Count Baldwin V of Flanders (d.1067), that other French territorial prince bordering on Lotharingia, whose predecessors had tried to nibble at it whenever the opportunity arose, decided to join forces with Godfrey. With the help of his allies, Godfrey managed to sack Verdun and destroy its cathedral. On 11 November 1048 at Thuin, Godfrey fell upon his replacement as Duke of Upper Lotharingia, Adalbert, and killed him in battle. King Henry III, now Emperor Henry III (he had received his imperial coronation at Rome in 1046), immediately responded by nominating the young Gerard of Chatenoy as duke in a royal assembly at Worms, but he really was losing control of the situation in Lotharingia at this point. He needed some kind of external help.

A seventeenth century image of Godfrey the Bearded in gloriously anachronistic attire (ancient Roman muscle cuirass mixed with sixteenth century plate armour - I love it)


And this is where Edward the Confessor comes in. Edward had his own interests in the Low Countries. As Frank Barlow points out in his ODNB article, he wanted to put pressure on the counts of Flanders because they allowed their territory to be used as a forward base for old-school Viking raiders to attack southern and eastern England - as late as 1048, according to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, a band of Viking raiders had devastated the Isle of Wight and had attempted to do the same to the Isle of Thanet in Kent but were beaten back by the locals - and as a safe haven for English political exiles. For this, he could count on his two brothers-in-law, Count Eustace of Boulogne and Emperor Henry III. When the latter was coming into difficulty from none other than Baldwin of Flanders, acting in cahoots with Godfrey the Bearded, Emperor Henry III called on Edward the Confessor and King Sweyn to provide naval assistance. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, in its annals for 1049, reports:

In this year the emperor [Henry III] gathered a countless army against Baldwin of Bruges [Count Baldwin V of Flanders], because he had broken down the palace at Nijmegen, and also caused him many other offences. The army which he had gathered was countless: there was the pope himself [Leo IX, a German by birth] and the patriarch and numerous other famous men from every nation. He also sent to King Edward, and asked him for support with ships so that he would not allow his [Baldwin's] escape by water. And then he [Edward] went to Sandwich, and there lay with a great raiding ship-army until the emperor had all that he wanted from Baldwin.

Baldwin of Flanders, facing a pincer movement from the Germans, the Danes and the English, and Godfrey the Bearded, whose campaigns in the Moselle region were being met with stiff resistance from Duke Gerard of Upper Lorraine, decided it was best for them give up at this point. Godfrey was not given back his duchy, but reconciled with the emperor anyway and agreed to help fund the rebuilding of the cathedral at Verdun. And Edward seems to have achieved one of his objectives - from 1050, Flanders stopped being a forward base for Viking raiders. The peace didn't last - Godfrey the Bearded rebelled against Henry III again in 1052 after Henry arrested and imprisoned his new wife, Beatrice of Bar, and Baldwin came to his assistance. Edward the Confessor did not get involved in any of it. Indeed in 1050, Edward the Confessor held a Witan in mid-Lent and, at the behest of the political community, agreed to disband nine out of the fourteen ships that made up England's standing navy and put the other five on a one year contract. This precipitated the abolition of the Heregeld (army tax) in 1051 we mentioned earlier, which drastically reduced England's capacity to get involved in overseas affairs. When in 1051 the entire House of Godwine was exiled from the kingdom, they took refuge in Flanders. Without his standing navy, England was not able to put any pressure on Count Baldwin V, who, along with Henry I of France, began to clamour for the Godwine family to be allowed to return. In the end, in 1052 the Godwine family made a forceful return with the help of foreign mercenaries, Flemish and Irish, and King Edward, not being able to countenance civil war, decided to reconcile with them and restore Godwin and Harold to the earldoms. So getting rid of the standing navy and the crown's ability to pay for a professional army (the Heregeld) was maybe not the best of idea in terms of England's ability to throw its weight around overseas. But at the same time, it was undoubtedly popular with the political community and enabled the kingdom to economically prosper with the king's subjects not being excessively burdened by direct taxation.

And good relations with the German king-emperors continued to be maintained. For the year 1054, Manuscript D of the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle reports:

Bishop Ealdred [of Worcester] went across the sea to Cologne with a message from the king, and was there received with great honour by the emperor [Henry III]; and he lived there well-nigh a year, and both the bishop in Cologne [Hermann] and the emperor entertained him; and he allowed Bishop Leofwine [of Lichfield] to consecrate the minster at Evesham on 10 October.

What the purpose of the visit was, the Chronicle does not specify, but then for the year 1057 it reports:

Here in this year came the aetheling Edward, King Edmund's son, here to the land, and soon afterwards departed; and his body is buried in St Paul's minster in London.

John of Worcester, writing in the early twelfth century, said the Bishop Ealdred had been sent to the imperial court to petition Emperor Henry III to send messengers to Hungary to negotiate the return of Edward the exile, King Edward's nephew. Edward's marriage to Edith, the daughter of Earl Godwin, was childless - whether that was because, out of great piety, wanted to follow the Christian ideal of a chaste marriage, or for biological reasons, we'll never know for sure - and he needed a successor. Edward may or may not have promised to designate Duke William of Normandy as his successor when he visited England in 1051 following the banishment of the Godwine family, but our only sources for that are post-1066 propaganda, and there would have been more important matters to attend to - William's marriage to Matilda of Flanders, the daughter of Count Baldwin V, had drawn the ire of Emperor Henry III and Pope Leo IX, and Edward might have been trying to get William to put pressure on his father-in-law not to actively assist Earl Godwin and his family in trying to make their comeback, and also not to assist him should Flanders and the Empire go to war again. At any rate, if Edward did make a promise to William, it certainly wasn't a binding one. 

Meanwhile, if we cast our minds back to my Cnut post, Edward had an elder, half-brother called Edmund Ironside, who had briefly reigned as king in 1016. After Cnut's conquest of England, Edmund Ironside's son, Edward went to live in Germany and Hungary. He married a woman called Agatha, whose ethnicity is disputed - some think she was a German noblewoman, whereas others, noting the Greek name (suggesting close ties with the Eastern Roman Empire), think she was Hungarian or Russian. Edward the exile was the ideal candidate for Edward to designate as his successor - as his nephew and the son of a previous king, he was an aetheling (prince) of the royal house of Wessex who was likely to be accepted by the Witan when it came to the designated successor being elected as king. And sure enough, thanks to warm relations between England and the German Empire, Edward's return from Hungary to England was made possible. It was only thanks to a cruel stroke of fate that Edward the Confessor outlived his nephew. Edward the exile left two daughters, Margaret and Christina, and a six-year-old son, Edgar. As a result, when Edward the Confessor died in 1066, the now 15-year-old Edgar wasn't even considered for election, with the Witan promptly electing a much better established, much more politically and militarily experienced candidate who also happened to be in the right place at the right time, Harold Godwinson.

I don't think this image needs explaining either


Conclusion

The anonymous Flemish author of The Life of King Edward wrote of the late king's reign "a golden age shone for his English race, as after David's wars came Solomon and peace." And in fairness, I think he was right to draw such a comparison between Edward the Confessor and the Biblical king of Israel. Despite some difficulties here and there, King Edward had managed to bring Wales under English overlordship, pacify Scotland and introduce some measure of English influence there, keep England secure from all its external enemies, avoid costly entanglements overseas, maintain good relations with his most powerful neighbour (the German king-emperor) and allow his kingdom to prosper from peace and foreign trade. Above all, Edward's foreign policy testifies to his wisdom and skill as a ruler, and that Anglo-Saxon England was far from being an insular backwater as some historians used to presume. But its also worth noting from this Biblical allusion a certain kind of hindsight on the part of the Flemish monk (he was writing in 1068 after all) and prescience for what was still yet to come, as just like with the kingdom of Israel following the death of Solomon, political division, foreign invasion and war would befall England shortly after Edward the Confessor's death, all thanks to that one thing for which his foreign policy, though well crafted, ultimately didn't bear fruit - the succession.




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...