CONVENTS AMONG THE FRANKS, A.D. 550-650.
‘Sicut enim apis diversa genera florum congregabat, unde mella
conficiat, sic illa ab his quos invitabat spirituales studebat carpere
flosculos, unde boni operis fructum tam sibi quam suis sequacibus
exhiberet.’ _The nun Baudonivia on St Radegund_ (_Vita_, c. 13).
§ 1. At the Frankish Invasion[140].
The great interest of early monastic life among the Franks lies in the
conversion of this hardy and ferocious people to Christianity just at the
moment of their emergence from a state of barbarism. Fierce, warlike and
progressive, the Franks were brought face to face with cultured Latinity.
The clerical student who claimed direct descent from the Gallo-Roman
rhetorician, and the bishop who was in possession of the municipal
government of the town, found themselves confronted by shaggy-haired,
impetuous men from forest wilds. At the outset an all but immeasurable
distance separated the social and intellectual development of the
Gallo-Roman from that of these strangers. Compared with the cultivated man
of letters and with the veteran, grown grey in imperial service, the
German invader was little more than a savage; nevertheless he succeeded in
holding his own. At first his standards of life and conduct gave way
before those of the Gallo-Romans. The lives of early Frankish princes, as
their contemporary, the historian Gregory of Tours, depicts them, are
marked by ceaseless quarrels and feuds, by numberless instances of murder,
perjury and violence. The bonds of union among them were forcibly relaxed,
as often happens in those periods of history when restraint and
responsibility are broken through by a sudden and overwhelming inrush of
new ideas. A prey to intemperance and greed, the descendants of the great
Merovech dwindled away. But other men of the same race, stronger than they
in mind and less prone to enervating luxury, pressed in from behind. And
after the temporary mental and moral collapse which followed upon the
occupation of Gaul by the Franks, the race rose to new and increased
vigour. New standards of conduct were evolved and new conceptions of
excellence arose, through the mingling of Latin and German elements. For
the great Roman civilization, a subject of wonder and admiration to all
ages, was in many of its developments realized, appropriated, and
assimilated by the converted Germans. Three hundred years after their
appearance in Gaul, the Franks were masters of the cultivated western
world; they had grasped the essentials of a common nationality and had
spread abroad a system of uniform government.
The Franks at first showed a marked deficiency in the virtues which pagan
Rome had established, and to which Christianity had given a widened and
spiritualized meaning. Temperance, habitual self-control and the
absorption of self in the consciousness of a greater, formed no part of
this people’s character. These virtues, together with peaceableness and a
certain simplicity of taste, laid the groundwork of the monasticism which
preceded the invasion. Persons who were vowed to religion were averse to
war, because it disturbed study and industry, and they shrank from luxury
of life, because it interrupted routine by exciting their appetites. An
even tenor of life was the golden mean they set before themselves, and in
some degree they had realized it in Roman Gaul before the barbarian
invasion.
The Frank at first felt little tempted in the direction of monastic life.
His fierce and warlike tendencies, love of personal predominance and
glory, and impatience of every kind of restraint, were directly opposed to
the uniform round of devotion and work to which the religious devotee
conformed.
The attitude of Frankish men towards monasticism was at best passive; on
the other hand convent life from the first found sympathy among Frankish
women. Princesses of pure German blood and of undisputed German origin
left the royal farms, which were the court residences of the period, and
repaired to the religious houses, to devote themselves to religion and to
the learning of cultured Latinity. Not one of the princes of the royal
Frankish race entered a convent of his own accord, but their wives,
widows, and daughters readily joined houses of religion.
Meekness and devotion, self-denial and subservience are not the most
prominent features in the character of these women. The wives and
daughters of men to whom Macaulay attributes all vices and no virtues, are
of a temper which largely savours of the world. What distinguishes them is
quick determination and clear-sighted appreciation of the possibilities
opened out to them by the religious life. Fortunately the information
which we have concerning them is not confined to the works of interested
eulogists. Accounts of women whom posterity estimated as saints lay stress
on those sides of their character which are in accord with virtues
inculcated by the Church. But we have other accounts besides these about
women who had taken the vows of religion, but whose behaviour called forth
violent denunciations from their contemporaries. And over and above these,
passages in profane literature are extant which curiously illustrate the
worldly tone and temper of many women who had adopted religion as a
profession.
These women were driven to resort to convents chiefly as the result of
their contact with a great civilization, which threw open unknown and
tempting possibilities to men, but raised many difficulties in the way of
women.
The resources of the districts acquired by the Franks were immeasurably
greater than those of the lands they had left. Wealth and intemperance
readily join hands. The plurality of recognised and unrecognised wives in
which the Frankish princes indulged resulted in great family difficulties.
The royal farms and the ancient cities, where these petty kings resided,
were the scenes of continual broils and squabbles in which royal wives and
widows took the leading parts. From the chequered existence which this
state of things implies, convent life alone afforded a permanent refuge.
Sometimes a princess left home from a sense of the indignities she was
made to suffer; sometimes a reverse of fortune caused her to accept,
willingly or unwillingly, the dignified retirement of the cloister.
During the centuries preceding the Frankish conquest the development of
religious and monastic life in Gaul had been considerable, for the Church
had practically appropriated what was left of the Roman system of
organization, and since this system had been chiefly municipal, the
municipal bodies were largely composed of bishops and clerks.
The monastic life of men in Gaul had a number of independent centres in
the western provinces, due to the enthusiastic zeal of St Martin of Tours
(† 400), to whom reference has been made.
In the beginning of the 6th century a settlement of nuns was founded in
the south, where monasteries already existed, perhaps as the result of
direct contact with the east. A rule of life was drafted for this convent
shortly after its foundation.
Caesarius, bishop of Arles (501-573), had persuaded his sister Caesaria to
leave Marseilles, where she dwelt in a convent associated with the name of
Cassian. His plan was that she should join him at Arles, and preside over
the women who had gathered there to live and work under his guidance.
Caesarius now marked out a scheme of life for his sister and those women
whom she was prepared to direct. He arranged it, as he says himself,
according to the teachings of the fathers of the Church and, after
repeated modifications, he embodied it in a set of rules, which have come
down to us[141]. Great clearness and directness, a high moral tone, and
much sensible advice are contained in these precepts of Caesarius. ‘Since
the Lord,’ he says, addressing himself to the women, ‘has willed to
inspire us and help us to found a monastery for you, in order that you may
abide in this monastery, we have culled spiritual and holy injunctions for
you from the ancient fathers; with God’s help may you be sheltered, and
dwelling in the cells of your monastery, seeking in earnest prayer the
presence of the Son of God, may you say in faith, “we have found him whom
we sought.” Thus may you be of the number of holy virgins devoted to God,
who wait with tapers alight and a calm conscience, calling upon the
Lord.--Since you are aware that I have worked towards establishing this
monastery for you, let me be one of you through the intercession of your
prayer.’
Caesarius goes on to stipulate that those who join the community, whether
they be maidens or widows, shall enter the house once for all and renounce
all claims to outside property. Several paragraphs of the rule are devoted
to settling questions of property, a proof of its importance in the mind
of Caesarius. There were to be in the house only those who of their own
accord accepted the routine and were prepared to live on terms of
strictest equality without property or servants of their own.
Children under the age of six or seven were not to be received at all,
‘nor shall daughters of noble parentage or lowly-born girls be taken in
readily to be brought up and educated.’
This latter injunction shows how the religious at this period wished to
keep the advantages to be derived from artistic and intellectual training
in their own community. They had no desire for the spread of education,
which forms so characteristic a feature of the religious establishments of
a later date.
After their safe housing the instruction of the nuns at Arles was the most
important matter dealt with in the ‘rule.’ Considerable time and thought
were devoted to the practice of chants and to choir-singing, for the art
of music was considered especially fitted to celebrate God. In an appendix
to the rule of Caesarius the system of singing is described as similar to
that adopted in the cœnobite settlement at Lerins[142]. Apparently
following Keltic usage, the chant was taken up in turn by relays of the
professed, who kept it up night and day all the year round in perpetual
praise of the Divinity. At this period melody and pitch were the subjects
of close study and much discussion. The great debt owed by the art of
music to the enthusiasm of these early singers is often overlooked.
The women who joined the community at Arles also learned reading and
writing (‘omnes litteras discant’). These arts were practised in classes,
while domestic occupations, such as cooking, were performed in turns.
Weaving, probably that of church hangings, was among the arts practised,
and the women also spun wool and wove it into material with which they
made garments for their own use.
There are further injunctions about tending the infirm, and stern advice
about the hatefulness of quarrels. Intercourse with the outside world is
restricted, but is not altogether cut off.
‘Dinners and entertainments,’ says the rule, ‘shall not be provided for
churchmen, laymen and friends, but women from other religious houses may
be received and entertained.’
In the year 506 Caesarius, the author of this rule, was present at the
synod of Agde at which it was decreed that no nun however good in
character should receive the veil, that is be permanently bound by a vow,
before her fortieth year[143]. This decree, taken together with the rule,
proves the sober and serious spirit of these early settlements and the
purpose which their founder set before him.
The teaching of Caesarius generally reflects the spirit of cautious
reserve characteristic of the rule instituted by the great St Benedict of
Nursia for the monks he had assembled together on Monte Casino in Central
Italy. His efforts like those of Caesarius were directed to the creation
of conditions favourable to the devoutly disposed, not to the leavening of
the outside world by the spread of Christian doctrine.
It was part of the plan of Caesarius to secure independence to the
communities he had founded; for in his capacity as bishop he addressed a
letter to Pope Hormisda († 523) in which he asked the Pope’s protection
for his monasteries, one of which was for men and one for women, against
possible interference from outside. He also begged that the Pope would
confirm the grants of property which had already been made to these
establishments. In his reply to this letter the Pope declared that the
power of the bishop in regard to these settlements should be limited to
visitation[144].
It must be borne in mind that Arles and the southern parts of Gaul were
overrun by the Goths, who inclined to Arianism and opposed the Church of
Rome. Fear of this heresy induced the prelates of the Church to favour
Frankish rule. After the alliance of the Frankish kings with the Church
the religious establishments in the land remained undisturbed, and
numerous new monasteries were founded.
It is evident from what we know of the nuns at Arles, and of other bands
of women whom the Church took under her protection, that they readily
accepted life on the conditions proffered and were content to be
controlled and protected by men. It is only when the untamed German
element with its craving for self-assertion came in, that difficulties
between the bishops and heads of nunneries arose, that women of barbarian
origin like Radegund, Chrodield, and others, appealed to the authority of
ruling princes against the bishop, and asserted an independence not always
in accordance with the usual conceptions of Christian virtue and
tolerance.
§ 2. St Radegund and the Nunnery at Poitiers.
Certain settlements for women in northern France claim to have existed
from a very early period, chiefly on the ground of their association with
Geneviève, patron saint of Paris, and with Chrothild (Clothilde, † 545),
wife of the first Christian king of the Franks. The legend of St Geneviève
must be received with caution[145]; while bands of women certainly dwelt
at Paris and elsewhere previously to the Frankish invasion, under the
protection of the Church, it is doubtful whether they owed their existence
to Geneviève.
A fictitious glamour of sanctity has been cast by legendary lore around
the name and the doings of Queen Chrothild, because her union with King
Clovis, advocated by the Gallo-Roman Church party, led to his conversion
to Christianity[146]. In the pages of Gregory’s history the real Chrothild
stands out imperious, revengeful and unscrupulous. It is quite credible
that she did service for a time as deaconess (diacona) at the church of
Tours, and that she founded a religious house for women at the royal farm
Les Andelys near Rouen, but we can hardly believe that the life she lived
there was that of a devout nun.
Radegund of Poitiers and Ingetrud of Tours are the first Frankish women
who are known to have founded and ruled over nunneries in France. Their
activity belongs to the latter half of the 6th century, which is a date
somewhat later than that of the official acceptance of Christianity, and
one at which the overlordship of the Franks was already well established
throughout France. The settlements they founded lay in close proximity to
cities which were strongholds of Church government. Poitiers had become an
important religious centre through the influence of St Hilary, and Tours,
to which the shrine of St Martin attracted many travellers, was of such
importance that it has been called the centre of religion and culture in
France at this period.
The historian Gregory, afterwards bishop of Tours, to whom we are largely
indebted for our knowledge of this period, was personally acquainted with
the women at Tours and at Poitiers. He probably owed his appointment to
the bishopric of Tours in 573 to the favour he had found with
Radegund[147]. He has treated of her in his history and has written an
account of her burial at which he officiated[148], whilst a chapter of his
book on the _Glory of Martyrs_ praises the fragment of the Holy
Cross[149], which had been sent to Radegund from Constantinople and from
which the nunnery at Poitiers took its name.
Besides this information two drafts of the life of Radegund are extant,
the one written by her devoted friend and admirer the Latin poet
Fortunatus, afterwards bishop of Poitiers, the other by the nun
Baudonivia, Radegund’s pupil and an inmate of her nunnery[150]. Fortunatus
has moreover celebrated his intercourse with Radegund in a number of
verses, which throw great light on their interesting personal
relations[151].
A letter is also extant written by Radegund herself and preserved by
Gregory in which she addresses a number of bishops on the objects of her
nunnery. She begs the prelates of the Church to protect her institution
after her death and, if need be, assist those who are carrying on life
there in her spirit against hindrance from without and opposition from
within. The letter is in the usual wordy style of the Latin of that day.
‘Freed from the claims of a worldly life, with divine help and holy grace,
I,’ she says, ‘have willingly chosen the life of religion at the direction
of Christ; turning my thoughts and powers towards helping others, the Lord
assisting me that my good intentions towards them may be turned to their
weal. With the assistance of gifts granted me by the noble lord and king
Clothacar, I have founded a monastery (monasterium) for maidens (puellae);
after founding it I made it a grant of all that royal liberality had
bestowed on me; moreover to the band assembled by me with Christ’s help, I
have given the rule according to which the holy Caesaria lived, and which
the holy president (antistes) Caesarius of Arles wisely compiled from the
teachings of the holy fathers. With the consent of the noble bishop of
this district and others, and at the desire of our congregation, I have
accepted as abbess my sister, dame Agnes, whom from youth upwards I have
loved and educated as a daughter; and next to God’s will I have conformed
to her authority. I myself, together with my sisters, have followed the
apostolic example and have granted away by charter all our worldly
possessions, in fearful remembrance of Ananias and Sapphira, retaining
nought of our own. But since the events and duration of human life are
uncertain, since also the world is drawing to its close (mundo in finem
currente), many serving their own rather than the divine will, I myself,
impelled by the love of God, submit to you this letter, which contains my
request, begging you to carry it out in the name of Christ[152].’
Radegund was one of an unconquered German race. Her father was Hermafried,
leader of the Thüringians, her mother a grandniece of the great Gothic
king, Theodoric. She was captured as a child together with her brother in
the forest wilds of Thüringen during one of the raids made into that
district by the Frankish kings Theuderic (Thierry) of Metz, and Clothacar
(Clothair) of Soissons. Clothacar appropriated the children as part of his
share of the booty and sent Radegund to a ‘villa’ in the neighbourhood of
Aties, in what became later the province of Picardie, where she was
brought up and educated. ‘Besides occupations usual to those of her sex,’
her biographer says, ‘she had a knowledge of letters’ (litteris est
erudita). From Aties she vainly tried to make her escape, and at the age
of about twelve was taken to the royal farm near Soissons and there
married to Clothacar[153]. In the list of King Clothacar’s seven
recognised wives Radegund stands fifth[154].
From the first Radegund was averse to this union. She was wedded to an
earthly bridegroom but not therefore divided from the heavenly one[155].
Her behaviour towards her husband as described by her biographers can
hardly be called becoming to her station as queen. She was so devoted to
charitable work, we are told, that she often kept the king waiting at
meals, a source of great annoyance to him, and under some pretext she
frequently left him at night. If a man of learning came to the court she
would devote herself to him, entirely neglecting her duty to the
king[156]. Quarrels between the couple were frequent, and the king
declared that he was married to a nun rather than to a queen[157]. The
murder of her younger brother finally turned the balance of the queen’s
feelings against the king. With fearless determination she broke down all
barriers. She was not lacking in personal courage, and had once calmly
confronted a popular uproar caused by her having set fire to a sacred
grove[158]. Now, regardless of consequences, she left the court and went
to Noyon, where she sought the protection of Bishop Medardus († 545), who
was influential among the many powerful prelates of his day[159]. But the
bishop hesitated, his position was evidently not so assured that he could,
by acceding to the queen’s request, risk drawing on himself the king’s
anger[160]. However Radegund’s stern admonition prevailed: ‘If you refuse
to consecrate me,’ she cried, ‘a lamb will be lost to the flock[161].’
Medardus so far consented as to consecrate her a deaconess, a term applied
at the time to those who, without belonging to any special order, were
under the protection of the Church.
In the oratory of St Jumer Radegund now offered up the embroidered clothes
and jewelry she was wearing, her robe (indumentum), her precious stones
(gemma), and her girdle weighty with gold. Both her biographers[162] lay
stress on this act of self-denial, which was the more noteworthy as love
of gorgeous apparel and jewelry was characteristic of early Frankish
royalty. Kings and queens were content to live in rural dwellings which
were little more than barns; life in cities was altogether uncongenial to
them, but they made up for this by a display of sumptuous clothes as a
mark of their rank. Already during her life with the king Radegund is
described as longing for a hair-cloth garment as a sign of unworldliness.
She now definitely adopted the raiment of a nun, a dress made of undyed
wool.
She subsequently wandered westwards from Noyon and came into the district
between Tours and Poitiers, where she settled for some time at a ‘villa’
her husband had given her called Sais[163]. She entered into friendly
relations with the recluse Jean of Chînon (Johannes Monasteriensis[164]),
a native of Brittany, who with many other recluses like himself enjoyed
the reputation of great holiness. Jean of Chînon is represented as
strengthening Radegund in her resolution to devote herself to religion,
and it is probable that he helped her with practical advice.
Radegund now devoted herself to the relief of distress of every kind, her
practical turn of mind leading her to offer help in physical as well as in
mental cases. Her biographer tells us how--like a new Martha, with a love
of active life--she shrank from no disease, not even from leprosy[165].
When she saw how many men and women sought her relief the wish to provide
permanently for them arose. She owned property outside Poitiers which she
devoted to founding a settlement for women; in all probability she also
had a house for men near it[166]. Various references to the settlement
show that it extended over a considerable area. Like other country
residences or ‘villae,’ it was surrounded by walls and had the look of a
fortress, although situated in a peaceful district. As many as two hundred
nuns lived here at the time of Radegund’s death[167]. When the house was
ready to receive its inmates, they entered it in a procession starting
from Poitiers. We hear that by this time the doings of Radegund ‘had so
far increased her reputation that crowds collected on the roofs to see
them pass.’
King Clothacar, however, did not calmly submit to being deserted by his
wife; he determined to go to Poitiers with his son to find her and to take
her back. But the queen, firm in her resolve, declared she would sooner
die than return to her husband. She notified this resolution to Bishop
Germanus of Paris, who besought the king not to go to Poitiers. His
entreaties were successful. Clothacar left his wife unmolested, and seems
to have come to some kind of agreement with her. In her letter to the
bishops, Radegund speaks of him as the noble lord, King Clothacar, not as
her husband.
Radegund did not herself preside over the women in her nunnery. With their
consent the youthful Agnes, the pupil of Radegund, but by no means her
intellectual equal, was appointed abbess. Difficulties very soon occurred
between Radegund and the bishop of Poitiers, who was probably jealous of
her attracting religious women from himself. Radegund is said to have
gone to Arles in order to learn about the life of the women gathered
together there. Against the accuracy of this statement it is urged[168]
that a written copy of the rule, together with an eloquent exhortation to
religious perfection and virtue, was forwarded from Arles by the Abbess
Caesaria († c. 560), the second of that name.
The rule was established in Poitiers in 559. In the previous year King
Clothacar, Radegund’s husband, through the death of his brothers and their
sons, had become sole king of France[169]. His monarchy thus included the
whole of what is now called France, the contiguous districts of Burgundy
and Thüringen, and the lands which had been taken from the Goths in Italy
and Spain. This great kingdom remained united for a few years only. In 561
Clothacar died and his realm was divided by his four sons, with whose
reigns a tempestuous period begins in the history of the Franks. During
more than forty years the rivalry and jealousy of the monarchs, aggravated
by the mutual hatred of the queens Brunihild and Fredegund, overwhelmed
the country with plots, counterplots, and unceasing warfare.
An eloquent appeal to the kings was called forth from the historian
Gregory by the contemplation of this state of things. It is contained in
the preface to the fifth book of his history. Calling upon them to desist
from the complications of civil war, he thus addresses them:
‘What are you bent on? What do you ask for? Have you not all in plenty?
There is luxury in your homes; in your storehouses wine, corn, and oil
abound; gold and silver are heaped up in your treasuries. One thing only
you lack; while you have not peace, you have not the grace of God. Why
must the one snatch things from the other? Why must the one covet the
other’s goods?’
Living at Poitiers Radegund was close to the scene of these turmoils. The
cities of Tours and Poitiers had fallen to the share of Charibert. When he
died in 562 his kingdom was divided between his three brothers by cities
rather than by districts. Tours and Poitiers fell to Sigebert of Rheims,
who was comparatively peace-loving among these brothers. But his brother
Chilperic of Soissons, dissatisfied with his own share, invaded Touraine
and Poitou and forced Poitiers to submit to him. He was subsequently made
to give way to Sigebert, but this did not bring their feuds to an end. In
575 Sigebert was raised on the shield and proclaimed king of Neustria (the
western part of France), but on being lifted down from the shield he was
forthwith assassinated. New complications resulted and new factions were
formed. In the interest of her son, Brunihild, the powerful widow of
Sigebert, pursued with inveterate hatred Chilperic and his wife, the
renowned Fredegund, for she looked upon Fredegund as the assassin of
Sigebert her husband and of Galesuith her sister.
Radegund had close relations with these impetuous, headstrong and
combative persons. King Sigebert was throughout well disposed towards her.
‘In order to show his love and affection for her,’ says Gregory[170], ‘he
sent a deputation of ecclesiastics to the Emperor Justinus II and his wife
Sophia at Constantinople.’ The Franks entertained friendly relations with
the imperial court, and the surviving members of Radegund’s family had
found a refuge there. In due course gifts were sent to Radegund,--a
fragment of the Holy Cross set in gold and jewels, together with other
relics of apostles and martyrs. These relics arrived at Tours some time
between 566 and 573[171]. It was Radegund’s wish that they should be
fetched from Tours to her nunnery by a procession headed by the bishop of
Poitiers. But Bishop Maroveus, who was always ready to thwart the queen,
forthwith left for his country seat when he heard of her request[172].
Radegund, much incensed, applied in her difficulty to King Sigebert, and
Eufronius, bishop of Tours, was ordered to conduct the translation.
Radegund’s adoption of the religious profession in no way diminished her
intercourse with the outside world or the influence she had had as queen.
We find her described as living on terms of friendship with Queen
Brunihild ‘whom she loved dearly.’ Even Queen Fredegund, Brunihild’s rival
and enemy, seems to have had some kind of intimacy with her. Fortunatus in
one of his poems suggests that Fredegund had begged Radegund to offer
prayers for the prosperity of her husband Chilperic.
It seems that Radegund’s word was generally esteemed, for in a family feud
when a certain Gundovald claimed to be the son of Clothacar and aspired to
the succession, we find him coupling the name of Radegund with that of
Ingetrud in asseveration of his statements.
‘If you would have the truth of what I declare proven,’ Gundovald
exclaimed, ‘go and enquire of Radegund of Poitiers and of Ingetrud of
Tours; they will tell you that what I maintain is the truth[173].’
In an age of endless entanglements, Radegund evidently did her best to
mediate between contending parties. ‘She was always favourable to peace
and interested in the weal of the realm whatever changes befell,’ writes
the nun Baudonivia[174]. ‘She esteemed the kings and prayed for their
welfare, and taught us nuns always to pray for their safety. If she heard
that they had fallen out she felt troubled: and she appealed in writing,
sometimes to one, sometimes to another, in order that they should not
fight and war together, but keep peaceful, so that the country might rest
securely. Similarly she exhorted the leaders to help the great princes
with sensible advice, in order that the common people and the lands under
their rule might prosper.’
What is here said of her peace-loving disposition is corroborated by
traits in her character mentioned by Gregory and Fortunatus. The friendly
intercourse between Radegund and Fortunatus necessitates a few remarks on
the life and doings of this latter-day Roman poet before he came to
Poitiers and entered the Church.
For years Fortunatus had lived the life of a fashionable man of letters at
Ravenna, but about the year 568 the occupation of that city by the
Langobards forced him to leave Italy. He wandered north from court to
court, from city to city, staying sometimes with a barbarian prince,
sometimes with a Church-prelate, who, one and the other, were equally
ready to entertain the cultivated southerner. In return for the
hospitality so liberally bestowed on him he celebrated his personal
relations to his benefactors in complimentary verses. He has good wishes
for prelates on the occasion of their appointment, flattering words for
kings, and pleasant greetings for friends. In some of his poems he gives
interesting descriptions of the districts through which he has travelled,
his account of a part of the Rhine valley being specially graphic[175]. He
glorifies the saints of the Church in terms formerly used for celebrating
classic divinities, and addresses Bishop Medardus of Noyon as the
possessor of Olympus[176]. He even brings in Venus to celebrate a royal
wedding, and lets her utter praises of the queen Brunihild[177].
Besides these poetical writings Fortunatus has left prose accounts of
several of his contemporaries. An easy-going man of pleasant disposition,
he combined in a curious way the traditions of cultured Latinity with the
theological bent peculiar to the Christian literature of the day. His
poems, though somewhat wanting in ideas, show a ready power of
versification and a great facility in putting things politely and
pleasantly. He wrote some hymns for church celebration which became widely
known. The one beginning ‘Pange, lingua, gloriosi’ was adopted into the
Roman Liturgy for the adoration of the Cross on Good Friday, and it was
repeatedly modified and re-written during the Middle Ages. Another hymn
written by him is the celebrated ‘Vexilla regis prodeunt,’ the words of
which are comparatively poor, but the tune, the authorship of which is
unknown, has secured it world-wide fame[178].
The relic of the Holy Cross kept at Poitiers may have inspired Fortunatus
with the idea of composing these hymns; in a flattering epistle, written
obviously at Radegund’s request, he thanks Justinus and Sophia of
Constantinople for the splendour of their gift to her[179].
Fortunatus had come to Tours on a pilgrimage to the shrine of St Martin,
to whose intercession he attributed the restoration of his eyesight.
Passing through Poitiers he made the acquaintance of Radegund, who at once
acquired a great influence over him.
‘Radegund wished me to stay, so I stayed,’ he writes from Poitiers to some
friends[180], and he enlarges on the superiority, intellectual and
otherwise, of the queen, whose plain clothing and simple mode of life
greatly impressed him. Naming Eustachia, Fabiola, Melania, and all the
other holy women he can think of, he describes how she surpasses them all.
‘She exemplifies whatever is praiseworthy in them,’ he says; ‘I come
across deeds in her such as I only read about before. Her spirit is
clothed with flesh that has been overcome, and which while yet abiding in
her body holds all things cheap as dross. Dwelling on earth, she has
entered heaven, and freed from the shackles of sense, seeks companionship
in the realms above. All pious teaching is food to her; whether taught by
Gregory or Basil, by bold Athanasius or gentle Hilary (two who were
companions in the light of one cause); whether thundered by Ambrose or
flashed forth by Jerome; whether poured forth by Augustine in unceasing
flow, by gentle Sedulius or subtle Orosius. It is as though the rule of
Caesarius had been written for her. She feeds herself with food such as
this and refuses to take meat unless her mind be first satisfied. I will
not say more of what by God’s witness is manifest. Let everyone who can
send her poems by religious writers; they will be esteemed as great gifts
though the books be small. For he who gives holy writings to her may hold
himself as giving to the accepted temples (templa) of God.’
Judging from this passage, Nisard, the modern editor of Fortunatus, thinks
it probable that Radegund was acquainted with Greek as well as with
Latin[181], a statement which one cannot endorse.
The queen was much interested in the poet’s writings. ‘For many years,’ he
writes in one poem, ‘I have been here composing verses at your order;
accept these in which I address you in the terms you merit[182].’
Radegund too wrote verses under Fortunatus’ guidance. ‘You have sent me
great verses on small tablets,’ he writes. ‘You succeed in giving back
honey to dead wax; on festal days you prepare grand entertainments, but I
hunger more for your words than for your food. The little poems you send
are full of pleasing earnestness; you charm our thoughts by these
words[183].’
Among the poems of Fortunatus are found two which modern criticism no
longer hesitates in attributing to Radegund. They are epistles in verse
written in the form of elegies, and were sent by the queen to some of her
relatives at Constantinople. Judging by internal evidence a third poem,
telling the story of Galesuith, Queen Brunihild’s sister, who was murdered
shortly after her marriage to King Chilperic, was composed by her also;
though Nisard claims for her not the form of the poem but only its
inspiration[184]. ‘The cry,’ he says, ‘which sounds through these lines,
is the cry of a woman. Not of a German woman only, who has in her the
expression of tender and fiery passion, but a suggestion of the strength
of a woman of all countries and for all time.’ The lament in this poem is
intoned by several women in turn. Whoever may have composed it, the depth
of feeling which it displays is certainly most remarkable.
One of these poems written by Radegund is addressed to her cousin
Hermalafred, who had fled from Thüringen when Radegund was captured, and
who had afterwards taken service in the imperial army of Justinian[185].
Hermalafred was endeared to Radegund by the recollections of her
childhood, and in vivid remembrance of events which had made her a captive
she begins her letter[186] in the following strain:
‘Sad is condition of war! Jealous is fate of human things! How proud
kingdoms are shattered by a sudden fall! Those long-prosperous heights
(culmina) lie fallen, destroyed by fire in the great onset. Flickering
tongues of flame lapped round the dwelling which before rose in royal
splendour. Grey ashes cover the glittering roof which rose on high shining
with burnished metal. Its rulers are captive in the enemy’s power, its
chosen bands have fallen to lowly estate. The crowd of comely servants all
dwelling together were smitten to the dust in one day; the brilliant
circle, the multitude of powerful dependents, no grave contains them, they
lack the honours of death. More brilliant than the fire shone the gold of
her hair, that of my father’s sister, who lay felled to the ground, white
as milk. Alas, for the corpses unburied that cover the battle-field, a
whole people collected together in one burial place. Not Troy alone
bewails her destruction, the land of Thüringen has experienced a like
carnage. Here a matron in fetters is dragged away by her streaming hair,
unable to bid a sad farewell to her household gods. The captive is not
allowed to press his lips to the threshold, nor turn his face towards what
he will never more behold. Bare feet in their tread trample in the blood
of a husband, the loving sister passes over her brother’s corpse. The
child still hangs on its mother’s lips though snatched from her embrace;
in funeral wail no tear is shed. Less sad is the fate of the child who
loses its life, the gasping mother has lost even the power of tears.
Barbarian though I am, I could not surpass the weeping though my tears
flowed for ever. Each had his sorrow, I had it all, my private grief was
also the public grief. Fate was kind to those whom the enemy cut down; I
alone survive to weep over the many. But not only do I sorrow for my dead
relatives, those too I deplore whom life has preserved. Often my
tear-stained face is at variance with my eyes; my murmurs are silenced,
but my grief is astir. I look and long for the winds to bring me a
message, from none of them comes there a sign. Hard fate has snatched from
my embrace the kinsman by whose loving presence I once was cheered. Ah,
though so far away, does not my solicitude pursue thee? has the bitterness
of misfortune taken away thy sweet love? Recall what from thy earliest age
upwards, O Hermalafred, I, Radegund, was ever to thee. How much thou didst
love me when I was but an infant; O son of my father’s brother, O most
beloved among those of my kin! Thou didst supply for me the place of my
dead father, of my esteemed mother, of a sister and of a brother. Held by
thy gentle hand, hanging on thy sweet kisses, as a child I was soothed by
thy tender speech. Scarce a time there was when the hour did not bring
thee, now ages go by and I hear not a word from thee! I wrestle with the
wild anguish that is hidden in my bosom; oh, that I could call thee back,
friend, whenever or wherever it might be. If father, or mother, or royal
office has hitherto held thee, though thou didst hasten now to me, thy
coming is late. Perhaps ’tis a sign of fate that I shall soon miss thee
altogether, dearest, for unrequited affection cannot long continue. I used
to be anxious when one house did not shelter us; when thou wast absent, I
thought thee gone for ever. Now the east holds thee as the west holds me;
the ocean’s waters restrain me, and thou art kept away from me by the sea
reddened by the beams of the sun (unda rubri). The earth’s expanse
stretches between those who are dear to each other, a world divides those
whom no distance separated before.’
She goes on to speculate where her cousin may be, and she says if she were
not held by her monastery she would go to him; storm and wind and the
thought of shipwreck would be nothing to her. The fear of incriminating
her, she says, was the cause of the death of her murdered brother. Would
that she had died instead of him! She beseeches Hermalafred to send news
of himself and of his sisters, and ends her letter with these words: ‘May
Christ grant my prayer, may this letter reach those beloved ones, so that
a letter indited with sweet messages may come to me in return! May the
sufferings wrought by languishing hope be alleviated by the swift advent
of sure tidings!’
This poem expresses great and lasting affection for her race. But her
relatives were a source of continued grief to the queen. She received no
reply to her letter to Hermalafred, and later she heard of his death. She
received this news from his nephew Artachis, who sent her at the same time
a present of silk, and Radegund then wrote another letter[187] which is
addressed to Artachis and is even sadder in tone. In it she deplores the
death of Hermalafred, and asks the boy Artachis to let her have frequent
news of himself sent to her monastery.
It is pleasant to turn from the sad side of Radegund’s life which these
poems exhibit to her friendly intercourse with Fortunatus, which was no
doubt a source of great comfort to her during the last years of her life.
With the exception of short intervals for journeys, the Latin poet lived
entirely at Poitiers, where he adopted the religious profession, and dwelt
in constant communication with Radegund and the abbess Agnes, in whose
society he learned to forget the land of his birth. The numerous poems and
verses which he has addressed to these ladies throw a strong light on his
attitude towards them and their great affection for him.
Radegund was wont to decorate the altar of her church with a profusion of
flowers[188]. Again and again the poet sends her flowers, accompanying his
gift with a few lines. With a basket of violets he sends the
following[189]:
‘If the time of year had given me white lilies, or had offered me roses
laden with perfume, I had culled them as usual in the open or in the
ground of my small garden, and had sent them, small gifts to great ladies.
But since I am short of the first and wanting in the second, he who offers
violets must in love be held to bring roses. Among the odorous herbs which
I send, these purple violets have a nobleness of their own. They shine
tinted with purple which is regal, and unite in their petals both perfume
and beauty. What they represent may you both exemplify, that by
association a transient gift may gain lasting worth.’
The interchange of gifts between the poet and the ladies was mutual, the
nuns of Ste Croix lacked not the good things of this world and were
generous in giving. Fortunatus thanks them for gifts of milk, prunes,
eggs, and tempting dishes[190]. On one occasion they send him a meal of
several courses, vegetables and meat, almost too much for one servant to
carry, and he describes his greedy (gulosus) enjoyment of it in graphic
terms[191]. Are we to take the lines literally which tell us that when
they entertained him at dinner the table was scarcely visible for the
roses with which it was strewn, and that the foliage and flowers spread
about made the room into a bower of greenery[192]?
Sometimes a fit of indigestion was the result of the too liberal enjoyment
of what his friends so freely provided[193]. The poet was evidently fond
of the pleasures of the table, and accentuates the material rather than
the spiritual side of things. Once addressing Agnes he tells her that she
shines in the blending of two things, she provides refreshment for the
poet’s mind and excellent food for his body[194].
But the 6th century poet is generally somewhat plain-spoken on delicate
topics. In a poem addressed to Radegund and Agnes he openly defends
himself against the imputation that the tone of his relations to them is
other than is signified by the terms mother and sister by which he is wont
to address them[195]. Still these platonic relations do not preclude the
use of expressions which border on the amorous, for he tells them that
they each possess one half of him[196], and he calls Radegund the light of
his eyes[197].
‘My dear mother, my sweet sister,’ he writes, ‘what shall I say, left
alone in the absence of the love of my heart[198]?...’ And again[199],
‘May a good night enfold my mother and my sister; this brings them the
good wishes of a son and a brother. May the choir of angels visit your
hearts and hold sweet converse with your thoughts. The time of night
forces me to be brief in my greetings; I am sending only six lines of
verse for you both!’
The vocabulary used to denote the different kinds of human affection
contains, no doubt, many terms common to all, and if the poems of
Fortunatus sometimes suggest the lover, it must be remembered that as
poems of friendship they are among the earliest of their kind. They are
throughout elegant, graceful, and characterized by a playful tenderness
which a translator must despair of rendering.
Radegund died in the year 587, and her death was a terrible loss to the
inmates of her settlement. Gregory, bishop of Tours, who officiated at the
burial, gives a detailed description of it, telling how some two hundred
women crowded round the bier, bewailing her death in such words as
these[200]:
‘To whom, mother, hast thou left us orphans? To whom then shall we turn in
our distress? We left our parents, our relatives and our homes, and we
followed thee. What have we before us now, but tears unceasing, and grief
that never can end? Verily, this monastery is to us more than the
greatness of village and city.... The earth is now darkened to us, this
place has been straitened since we no longer behold thy countenance. Woe
unto us who are left by our holy mother! Happy those who left this world
whilst thou wast still alive...!’
The nun Baudonivia says that she cannot speak of the death of Radegund
without sobs choking her. Her account was written some time after
Radegund’s death during the rule of the abbess Didimia to whom it is
dedicated; Didimia probably succeeded Leubover, who witnessed the serious
outbreak of the nuns at Poitiers. This outbreak throws an interesting
light on the temper of professed religious women at this period, and
illustrates how needful it was that a religious establishment should be
ruled by a woman of character and determination at a time when the
monastic system was only in its infancy.
§ 3. The Revolt of the Nuns at Poitiers[201]. Convent Life in the North.
The revolt of the nuns at Poitiers, which happened within a few years of
the death of Radegund, shows more than anything else the imperious and the
unbridled passions that were to be found at this period in a nunnery.
Evidently the adoption of the religious profession did not deter women
from openly rebelling against the authority of the ministers of the
Church, and from carrying out their purpose by force of arms. The outbreak
at Poitiers, of which Gregory has given a description, shows what proud,
vindictive, and unrelenting characters the Frankish convent of the 6th
century harboured.
Already during Radegund’s lifetime difficulties had arisen. King Chilperic
had placed his daughter Basina in the nunnery, and after a time he asked
that she should leave to be married. Radegund refused and her authority
prevailed, but we shall find this Basina taking an active part in the
rebellion. Other incidents show how difficult it was for Radegund even to
uphold discipline. A nun escaped through a window by aid of a rope and,
taking refuge in the basilica of St Hilary, made accusations which
Gregory, who was summoned to enquire into the matter, declared to be
unfounded. The fugitive repented and was permitted to return to the
nunnery; she was hoisted up by means of ropes so that she might enter by
the way she had gone out. She asked to be confined in a cell apart from
the community, and there she remained in seclusion till the news of the
rebellion encouraged her to again break loose.
Agnes the abbess appointed by Radegund died in 589. The convent chose a
certain Leubover to succeed her, but this appointment roused the ire of
Chrodield, another inmate of the nunnery.
Chrodield held herself to be the daughter of King Charibert, and relying
on her near connection with royalty persuaded forty nuns to take an oath
that they would help her to remove the hated Leubover and would appoint
her, Chrodield, as abbess in her stead. Led by Chrodield who had been
joined by her cousin Basina, the daughter of Chilperic mentioned above,
the whole party left the nunnery. ‘I am going to my royal relatives,’
Chrodield said, ‘to inform them of the contumely we have experienced. Not
as daughters of kings are we treated but as though we were lowly
born[202].’
Leaving Poitiers the women came to Tours where Chrodield applied for
assistance to the bishop and historian Gregory. In vain he admonished her,
promising to speak to Bishop Maroveus of Poitiers in her behalf, and
urging her to abide by his decision, as the penalty might be
excommunication.
The feeling of indignation in the women must have been strong, since
nothing he could say dissuaded them from their purpose. ‘Nothing shall
prevent us from appealing to the kings,’ said Chrodield, ‘to them we are
nearly related.’
The women had come on foot from Poitiers to Tours, regardless of
hardships. They had had no food and arrived at a time of year when the
roads were deep in mud. Gregory at last persuaded them to postpone their
departure for the court till the summer.
Then Chrodield, leaving the nuns under the care of Basina, continued her
journey to her uncle, King Guntchram of Orléans, who at the time was
residing at Chalôns-sur-Saône. She was well received by him and came back
to Tours there to await the convocation of bishops who were to enquire
into the rights of her case. But she found on her return that many of her
followers had disbanded, and some had married. The arrival too of the
bishops was delayed, so that she felt it expedient to return with her
followers to Poitiers where they took possession of the basilica of St
Hilary.
They now prepared for open hostility. ‘We are queens,’ they said, ‘and we
shall not return to the monastery unless the abbess is deposed.’
At this juncture they were joined by other dissatisfied spirits,
‘murderers, adulterers, law-breakers and other wrong-doers,’ as Gregory
puts it[203]. The nun too who had previously escaped and been taken back,
now broke loose from her cell and returned to the basilica of Hilary.
The bishop of Bordeaux and his suffragan bishops of Angoulême, Perigueux,
and Poitiers, now assembled by order of the king (Guntchram), and called
upon the women to come into the monastery, and on their refusal the
prelates entered the basilica of St Hilary in a body urging them to obey.
The women refused, and the ban of excommunication was pronounced, upon
which they and their followers attacked the prelates. In great fear the
bishops and clergy made off helter-skelter, not even pausing to bid each
other farewell. One deacon was so terrified that in his eagerness to get
away he did not even ride down to the ford, but plunged with his horse
straight into the river.
King Childebert († 596), the son and successor of King Sigebert, now
ordered Count Macco to put an end to the rebellion by force of arms, while
Gondegisel, bishop of Bordeaux, sent a circular letter to his brethren,
describing the indignity to which he had been exposed. Chrodield’s chance
of success was evidently dwindling, when she determined to carry her point
by a bold assault, the account of which may fitly stand in the words of
Gregory[204].
‘The vexations,’ he says, ‘which sown by the devil had sprung up in the
monastery at Poitiers, daily increased in troublesomeness. For Chrodield,
having collected about her, as mentioned above, a band of murderers,
wrong-doers, law-breakers, and vagrants of all kinds, dwelt in open revolt
and ordered her followers to break into the nunnery at night and forcibly
to bear off the abbess. But the abbess, on hearing the noise of their
approach, asked to be carried in front of the shrine of the Holy Cross,
for she was suffering from a gouty foot, and thought that the Holy Cross
would serve her as a protection in danger. The armed bands rushed in, ran
about the monastery by the light of a torch in search of the abbess, and
entering the oratory found her extended on the ground in front of the
shrine of the Holy Cross. Then one of them, more audacious than the rest,
while about to commit the impious deed of cutting her down with his sword,
was stabbed by another, through the intercession I believe of Divine
Providence. He fell in his own blood and did not carry out the intention
he had impiously formed. Meanwhile the prioress Justina, together with
other sisters, spread the altar-cover, which lay before the cross, over
the abbess, and extinguished the altar candles. But those who rushed in
with bared swords and lances tore her clothes, almost lacerated the hands
of the nuns, and carried off the prioress whom they mistook for the abbess
in the darkness, and, with her cloak dragged off and her hair coming down,
they would have given her into custody at the basilica of St Hilary. But
as they drew near the church, and the sky grew somewhat lighter, they saw
she was not the abbess and told her to go back to the monastery. Coming
back themselves they secured the real abbess, dragged her away, and placed
her in custody near the basilica of St Hilary in a place where Basina was
living, and placed a watch over her by the door that no one should come to
her rescue. Then in the dark of night they returned to the monastery and
not being able to find a light, set fire to a barrel which they took from
the larder and which had been painted with tar and was now dry. By the
light of the bonfire they kindled, they plundered the monastery of all its
contents, leaving nothing but what they could not carry off. This happened
seven days before Easter.’
The bishop of Poitiers made one more attempt to interfere. He sent to
Chrodield and asked her to set the abbess free on pain of his refusing to
celebrate the Easter festival. ‘If you do not release her,’ he said, ‘I
shall bring her help with the assembled citizens.’ But Chrodield
emboldened by her success said to her followers: ‘If anyone dare come to
her rescue, slay her.’
She seems now to have been in possession of the monastery; still we find
defection among her party. Basina, who throughout had shown a changeable
disposition, repented and went to the imprisoned Leubover, who received
her with open arms. The bishops, mindful of the treatment they had
received, still refused to assemble in Poitiers while the state of affairs
continued. But Count Macco with his armed bands made an attack on the
women and their followers, causing ‘some to be beaten down, others struck
down by spears, and those who made most strenuous opposition to be cut
down by the sword.’
Chrodield came forth from the nunnery holding on high the relic of the
Cross; ‘Do not, I charge you, use force of arms against me,’ she cried, ‘I
am a queen, daughter to one king and cousin to another. Do not attack me,
a time may come when I will take my revenge.’ But no one took any notice
of her. Her followers were dragged from the monastery and severely
chastised. The bishops assembled and instituted a long enquiry into the
grievances of Chrodield, and the accusations brought against Leubover by
her. They seem to have been unfounded or insignificant. Leubover justified
herself and returned to the monastery. Chrodield and Basina left Poitiers
and went to the court of King Childebert.
At the next Church convocation the king tendered a request that these
women should be freed from the ban of excommunication. Basina asked
forgiveness and was allowed to return to the monastery. But the proud
Chrodield declared that she would not set foot there while the abbess
Leubover remained in authority. She maintained her independence and went
to live in a ‘villa’ which the king had granted her, and from that time
she passes from the stage of history.
The revolt of the nuns at Poitiers, which for two years defied the efforts
of churchmen and laymen, is the more noteworthy in that it does not stand
alone. Within a year we find a similar outbreak threatening the nunnery at
Tours where a certain Berthegund, similarly disappointed of becoming
abbess, collected malefactors and others about her and resorted to violent
measures. The circumstances, which are also described by Gregory, differ
in some respects from those of the insurrection at Ste Croix[205].
Ingetrud, the mother of Berthegund, had founded a nunnery at Tours close
to the church of St Martin, and she urged her daughter, who was married,
to come and live with her. When Berthegund did so, her husband appealed to
Gregory, who threatened her with excommunication if she persisted in her
resolve. She returned to her husband, but subsequently left him again and
sent for advice to her brother who was bishop of Bordeaux. He decreed that
she need not live with her husband if she preferred convent life. But when
this bishop of Bordeaux died, his sister Berthegund and her mother
Ingetrud quarrelled as to the inheritance of his property, and Ingetrud,
much incensed against her daughter, determined at least to keep from
Berthegund her own possessions at the nunnery and succession to her
position there. She therefore appointed a niece of hers to succeed her as
abbess after her death. When she died the convent of nuns looked upon this
appointment as an infringement of their rights, but Gregory persuaded them
to keep quiet and abide by the decision of their late abbess. Berthegund
however would not agree to it. Against the advice of the bishop she
appealed to the authority of King Childebert, who admitted her claim to
the property. ‘Furnished with his letter she came to the monastery and
carried off all the moveable property, leaving nothing but its bare
walls,’ Gregory says. Afterwards she settled at Poitiers, where she spoke
evil of her cousin the abbess of Tours, and altogether ‘she did so much
evil it were difficult to tell of it all.’
From the consideration of these events in central France we turn to the
religious foundations for women in the northern districts. With the
beginning of the 7th century a change which directly influenced convent
life becomes apparent in the relations between the Frankish rulers and the
representatives of Christianity. Influential posts at court were more and
more frequently occupied by prelates of the Church, and kings and queens
acted more directly as patrons of churches and monasteries. Hitherto the
centres of religious influence had been in southern and central France,
where the Gallo-Frankish population and influence predominated, and where
monasteries flourished close to cities which had been strongholds of the
Roman system of administration. New religious settlements now grew up
north of the rivers Seine and Marne, where the pure Frankish element
prevailed and where Christianity regained its foothold owing to the
patronage of ruling princes.
Whatever had survived of Latin culture and civilisation in these districts
had disappeared before the influence of the heathen invaders; the men
whose work it was to re-evangelise these districts found few traces of
Christianity. Vedast (St Vaast, † 540), who was sent by bishop Remigius
(St Rémy) of Rheims († 532) into the marshy districts of Flanders, found
no Christians at Arras about the year 500, and only the ruins of one
ancient church, which he rebuilt[206]. The author of the life of Vedast
gives the ravages made in these districts by the Huns as the reason for
the disappearance of Latin culture and of Christianity. But the author of
the life of Eleutherius, bishop of Tournai († 531), holds that the
Christians had fled from these districts to escape from the inroads of the
heathen Franks[207].
It was chiefly by the foundation of monasteries in these districts that
Christianity gained ground during the 7th century. ‘Through the
establishment of monasteries,’ says Gérard[208], ‘the new social order
gained a foothold in the old Salic lands.’ Among the names of those who
took an active part in this movement stand the following: Wandregisil (St
Vandrille, † 665) founder of the abbey of Fontenelle; Waneng († c. 688)
founder of Fécamp; Filibert († 684) founder of Jumièges; Eligius bishop of
Noyon († 658) and Audoenus (St Ouen, † 683) archbishop of Rouen. These men
were in direct contact with the court and were much patronised by the
ruling princes, especially by the holy queen Balthild. Early and reliable
accounts concerning most of them are extant[209].
With regard to political events the 7th century is the most obscure period
of Frankish history, for the history of Gregory of Tours comes to an end
in 591. Feuds and quarrels as violent as those he depicts continued, and
important constitutional changes took place as their result. The vast
dominions brought under Frankish rule showed signs of definitely
crystallising into Austrasia which included the purely Frankish districts
of the north, and Burgundy and Neustria where Gallo-Frankish elements were
prevalent.
The latter half of the life of the famous Queen Brunihild[210] takes its
colouring from the rivalry between these kingdoms; during fifty years she
was one of the chief actors in the drama of Frankish history. At one time
she ruled conjointly with her son Childebert, and then as regent for her
grandsons, over whom she domineered greatly. In the year 613, when she was
over eighty years old, she was put to a cruel death by the nobles of
Austrasia.
The judgments passed on this queen are curiously contradictory. Pope
Gregory († 604) writes to her praising her great zeal in the cause of
religion, and thanks her for the protection she has afforded to Augustine
on his passage through France, which he considers a means to the
conversion of England[211]. On the other hand the author of the life of St
Columban[212], whom she expelled from Burgundy, calls her a very
Jezebel[213]; and the author of the life of Desiderius, who was murdered
in 608, goes so far as to accuse her of incestuous practices because of
her marriage with her husband’s nephew[214]. Indirect evidence is in
favour of the conclusion that Queen Brunihild disliked monasticism; she
was by birth of course a princess of the Gothic dynasty of Spain who had
accepted Christianity in its Arian form.
During the reign of Brunihild’s nephew Clothacar II († 628), under whose
rule the different provinces were for a time united, a comprehensive and
most interesting edict was issued, which affords an insight into the
efforts made to give stability to the relations between princes and the
representatives of religion. In this edict, under heading 18, we are told
that ‘no maidens, holy widows or religious persons who are vowed to God,
whether they stay at home or live in monasteries, shall be enticed away,
or appropriated, or taken in marriage by making use of a special royal
permit (praeceptum). And if anyone surreptitiously gets hold of a permit,
it shall have no force. And should anyone by violent or other means carry
off any such woman and take her to wife, let him be put to death. And if
he be married in church and the woman who is appropriated, or who is on
the point of being appropriated, seems to be a consenting party, they
shall be separated, sent into exile, and their possessions given to their
natural heirs[215].’
From these injunctions it can be gathered that the re-adjustment of social
and moral relations was still in progress; women who were vowed to a
religious life did not necessarily dwell in a religious settlement, and
even if they did so they were not necessarily safe from being captured and
thrown into subjection. Clothacar II had three wives at the same time and
concubines innumerable; plurality of wives was indeed a prerogative of
these Frankish kings.
Monastic life in northern France at this period was also in process of
development. It has been mentioned how Radegund adopted the rule of life
framed and put into writing by Caesarius at Arles. The rule
contemporaneously instituted by Benedict at Nursia in central Italy spread
further and further northwards, and was advocated by prelates of the
Romish Church. It served as the model on which to reform the life of
existing settlements[216].
During the first few centuries religious houses and communities had been
founded here and there independently of each other, the mode of life and
the routine observed depending in each case directly on the founder. Many
and great were the attempts made by the advocates of convent life to
formulate the type of an ideal existence outside the pale of social duties
and family relations, in which piety, work and benevolence should be
blended in just proportions. The questions how far the prelates of the
Church should claim authority over the monastery, and what the respective
positions of abbot or abbess and bishop should be, led to much discussion.
During the period under consideration the rules drafted by different
leaders of monastic thought were not looked upon as mutually exclusive. We
are told in the life of Filibert († 684), written by a contemporary[217],
that he made selections from ‘the graces of St Basil, the rule of
Macarius, the decrees of Benedict and the holy institutions of Columban.’
Eligius, bishop of Noyon, says in a charter which he drafted for the
monastery founded by him at Solemny that the inmates of the settlement
shall follow the rules of St Benedict and of St Columban[218].
Towards the close of the 6th century Columban came from Ireland into
France and northern Italy and founded a number of religious settlements.
What rule of life the inmates of these houses followed is not quite clear,
probably that drafted by Columban. The convents in Elsass, Switzerland and
Germany, which considered that they owed their foundation to Irish monks,
were numerous and later became obnoxious to the Church in many ways. For
in after years, when the feud arose between the Romish and the Irish
Churches and the latter insisted on her independence, the houses founded
by Irishmen also claimed freedom and remained separate from those which
accepted the rule of St Benedict.
The property granted to religious foundations in northern France went on
increasing throughout the 7th century. The amount of land settled on
churches and monasteries by princes of the Merovech dynasty was so great
that on Roth’s computation two-thirds of the soil of France was at one
time in the hands of the representatives of religion[219]. Under the will
of Dagobert, who first became king of Austrasia in 628 and afterwards of
the whole of France, large tracts were given away. Through the gifts of
this king the abbey of St Denis became the richest in France, and his
great liberality on the one hand towards the Church, on the other towards
the poor and pilgrims, is emphasized by his biographer. His son Chlodwig
II, king of Neustria and Burgundy, followed in his footsteps. He was a
prince of feeble intellect and his reign is remarkable for the power
increasingly usurped by the house-mayor, who grasped more and more at the
substance of royal authority while dispensing with its show.
Chlodwig II was married to Balthild, who is esteemed a saint on the
strength of the monastery she founded and of the gifts she made to the
Church. There are two accounts of her works; the second is probably a
re-written amplification of the first, which was drafted within a short
period of her death[220]. As these accounts were written from the
religious standpoint, they give scant information on the political
activity and influence of the queen, which were considerable. They dwell
chiefly on her gifts, and concern the latter part of her life when she was
in constant communication with her nunnery.
Balthild was of Anglo-Saxon origin, and her personality and activity form
the connecting link between the women of France and England. It is
supposed that she was descended from one of the noble families of Wessex,
and she favoured all those religious settlements which were in direct
connection with princesses of the Anglo-Saxon race.
She had been captured on the north coast of France and had been brought to
Paris as a slave by the house-mayor Erchinoald, who would have married
her, but she escaped and hid herself. Her beauty and attractions are
described as remarkable, and she found favour in the eyes of King Chlodwig
II who made her his wife. The excesses of this king were so great that he
became imbecile. Balthild with Erchinoald’s help governed the kingdom
during the remainder of her husband’s life and after his death in the
interest of her little sons. From a political point of view she is
described as ‘administering the affairs of the kingdom masculine wise and
with great strength of mind.’ She was especially energetic in opposing
slavery and forbade the sale of Christians in any part of France. No doubt
this was due to her own sad experience. She also abolished the poll-tax,
which had been instituted by the Romans. The Frankish kings had carried it
on and depended on it for part of their income. Its abolition is referred
to as a most important and beneficial change[221].
During the lifetime of Chlodwig and for some years after his death the
rule of Balthild seems to have been comparatively peaceful. The
house-mayor Erchinoald died in 658 and was succeeded by Ebruin, a man
whose unbounded personal ambition again plunged the realm into endless
quarrels. In his own interest Ebruin advocated the appointment of a
separate king to the province Austrasia, and the second of Balthild’s
little sons was sent there with the house-mayor Wulfoald. But the rivalry
between the two kingdoms soon added another dramatic chapter to the pages
of Frankish history. At one time we find Ebruin ruling supreme and
condemning his rival Leodgar, bishop of Autun, to seclusion in the
monastery of Luxeuil. An insurrection broke out and Ebruin himself was
tonsured and cast into Luxeuil. But his chief antagonist Leodgar was
murdered. Ebruin was then set free and again became house-mayor to one of
the shadow kings, _rois fainéants_, the unworthy successors of the great
Merovech. His career throughout reflected the tumultuous temper of the
age; he was finally assassinated in the year 680.
Queen Balthild had retired from political life long before this. She left
the court in consequence of an insurrection in Paris which led to the
assassination of Bishop Sigoberrand, and went to live at a palace near the
convent of Chelles, which she had founded and which she frequently
visited. In the account of her life we read of her doing many pious
deeds[222]. ‘A fond mother, she loved the nuns like her own daughters and
obeyed as her mother the holy abbess whom she had herself appointed; and
in every respect she did her duty not like a mistress but like a faithful
servant. Also with the humility of a strong mind she served as an
example; she did service herself as cook to the nuns, she looked after
cleanliness,--and, what can I say more,--the purest of pearls, with her
own hands she removed filth’s impurities....’
At various times of her life Balthild had been in friendly intercourse
with many of the chief prelates and religious dignitaries of the day. She
had taken a special interest in Eligius, bishop of Noyon, who was a Frank
by birth and the friend and adviser of King Dagobert.
We hear how Eligius took a special interest in monastic life; how at Paris
he collected together three hundred women, some of whom were slaves,
others of noble origin; how he placed them under the guidance of one
Aurea; and how at Noyon also he gathered together many women[223].
On receiving the news that Eligius was dying, Balthild hurried with her
sons to Noyon, but they came too late to see him. So great was her love
for him, that she would have borne away his body to Chelles, her favourite
settlement, but her wish was miraculously frustrated. The writer of the
life of Eligius tells that the holy man’s body became so heavy that it was
impossible to move it.
When Eligius appointed Aurea as president of his convent at Paris she was
living in a settlement at Pavilly which had been founded by Filibert, an
ecclesiastic also associated with Queen Balthild. On one occasion she sent
him as an offering her royal girdle, which is described as a mass of gold
and jewels[224]. It was on land granted to him by Balthild and her sons
that Filibert founded Jumièges, where he collected together as many as
nine hundred monks. At his foundation at Pavilly over three hundred women
lived together under the abbess Ansterbert[225].
It is recorded that Ansterbert and her mother Framehild were among the
women of northern France who came under the influence of Irish teachers.
The same is said of Fara († 657)[226], the reputed founder of a house at
Brie, which was known as Faremoutiers, another settlement indebted to
Queen Balthild’s munificence. Similarly Agilbert and Theodohild[227] († c.
660) are supposed to have been taught by Irish teachers who had collected
women about them at Jouarre on the Marne. This house at Jouarre attained
a high standard of excellence in regard to education, for we are informed
that Balthild summoned Berthild[228] from here, a woman renowned for her
learning, and appointed her abbess over the house at Chelles.
Yet another ecclesiastic must be mentioned in connection with Balthild,
viz. Waneng, a Frank by birth. He was counsellor for some time to the
queen who gave the cantle of Normandy, the so-called Pays de Caux, into
his charge. He again founded a settlement for religious women at Fécamp
which was presided over by Hildemarque.
The foundation and growth of so many religious settlements within so short
a period and situated in a comparatively small district shows that the
taste for monastic life was rapidly developing among the Franks.
‘At this period in the provinces of Gaul,’ says a contemporary writer,
‘large communities of monks and of virgins were formed, not only in
cultivated districts, in villages, cities and strongholds, but also in
uncultivated solitudes, for the purpose of living together according to
the rule of the holy fathers Benedict and Columban[229].’
This statement is taken from the life of Salaberg, a well written
composition which conveys the impression of truthfulness. Salaberg had
brought up her daughter Anstrud for the religious life. Her husband had
joined the monastery at Luxeuil and she and other women were about to
settle near it when the rumour of impending warfare drove them north
towards Laon where they dwelt on the Mons Clavatus. This event belongs to
the period of Queen Balthild’s regency. It was while Anstrud was abbess at
Laon that the settlement was attacked and barely escaped destruction in
one of the wars waged by the house-mayor Ebruin. This event is described
in a contemporary life of Anstrud[230].
It is interesting to find a connection growing up at this period between
the religious houses of northern France and the women of Anglo-Saxon
England. We learn from the reliable information supplied by Bede that
Englishwomen frequently went abroad and sometimes settled entirely in
Frankish convents. We shall return to this subject later in connection
with the princesses of Kent and East Anglia, some of whom went to France
and there became abbesses. The house at Brie was ruled successively by
Saethrith (St Syre), and Aethelburg (St Aubierge), daughters of kings of
East Anglia, and Earcongotha, a daughter of the king of Kent. About the
same time Hereswith, a princess of Northumbria, came to reside at
Chelles[231].
We do not know how far the immigration of these women was due to
Balthild’s connection with the land of her origin, nor do we hear whether
she found solace in the society of her countrywomen during the last years
of her life. Her death is conjectured to have taken place in 680.
With it closes the period which has given the relatively largest number of
women-saints to France, for all the women who by founding nunneries worked
in the interests of religion have a place in the assembly of the saints.
They were held as benefactors in the districts which witnessed their
efforts, and the day of their death was inscribed in the local calendar.
They have never been officially canonised, but they all figure in the
Roman Martyrology, and the accounts which tell of their doings have been
incorporated in the Acts of the Saints.