Showing posts with label King Chlotar I. Show all posts
Showing posts with label King Chlotar I. Show all posts

Thursday, February 20, 2020

The Tale Of Gundovald’s Pursuit Of Magical Relics



In 585, an adventurer named Gundovald (or Gundoald) spent a brief time in the city of Bordeaux. He was roaming the lands of the Franks, telling the people that he was a long-lost son of the late King Chlotar I (d. 561). Despite this claim having been rejected by King Chlotar, himself, as well as by Chlotar’s sons, Gundovald continued popping up here and there in the Frankish lands, trying to recruit nobles and clergymen to his cause. As his legitimacy was dubious at best, Gundovald was designated as a pretender (illegal/unrecognized claimant) to the throne, and he consequently could not stay in one place for too long. Yet, in the city of Bordeaux, Gundovald heard a tale that piqued his interest and convinced him to stay in the city for a time.

A peculiar rumor was spreading around the Frankish lands in those days. Bishop Gregory of Tours, who wrote history in his spare time, commented on these enticing tales.  He stated:

 “Somebody told him [Gundovald] that a certain king in Eastern parts had obtained possession of the thumb of Saint Sergius the martyr, and that he had attached this to his own right arm. Whenever he needed help to drive back his enemies, he would put his trust in this support; for when he raised his right arm the enemy troops would immediately turn in flight, as if they had been vanquished by the martyr’s miraculous power” (History of the Franks, VII.31).

Gundovald, hearing of this mysterious item, obviously wanted to get his hands on it. One of Gundovald’s followers, a bishop named Bertram, claimed to have discovered a lead on a possible location where one such object of power could be found. According to Bishop Bertram, there was a Syrian merchant in Bordeaux who had a large collection of holy relics, including some belonging to the aforementioned Saint Sergius. To spice up the news, the bishop told Gundovald that the relics in the merchant’s house had been catalysts for many miracles, including one incident where the merchant’s home had miraculously survived a fire, while neighboring houses burned down.

Convinced by the tales, Gundovald sent his henchmen to the merchant’s house, and they reportedly broke into the dwelling. The relic collector was home at the time, so the robbers pulled out their swords and demanded that the merchant bring them to the relics of Saint Sergius. As the story goes, the relics were hidden in a casket or container hidden in a high spot on a wall or rafter. After obtaining a ladder, one of the robbers climbed up the rungs to reach the box of relics. Either due to the effects of holy power (or hefty weight) the man’s hand trembled as he hauled the relics from their high perch. Perusing through the holy remains in the container, the robbers reportedly picked out a fingerbone of Saint Sergius. In an interesting move, the henchmen allegedly took a knife and chopped the relic into three pieces, and brought one section back to Gundovald. According to Bishop Gregory of Tours (the one who reported this story), the spirit of Saint Sergius did not appreciate the desecration of the relic—despite his possession of a section of the fingerbone, Gundovald would be overpowered and killed by his enemies within the year.

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Destruction of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, illustration from the 1890 Holman Bible, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Guntram-king-of-Burgundy 
  • https://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780198662778.001.0001/acref-9780198662778-e-2140

Monday, May 6, 2019

The Feud Of Bishop Cautinus And The Priest Cato In Clermont



Bishop Gallus (otherwise known as St. Gall) oversaw the church of Clermont-Ferrand from 525-551. Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), writer of The History of the Franks, knew Gallus extremely well. Not only was Gregory of Tours the nephew of Bishop Gallus, but he also spent several years living under his uncle’s care. Around 547, when Gregory was about eight years old, he was sent to live with Bishop Gallus. The bishop, however, died four years later, in 551. Although his guardian was no longer alive, the now teenage Gregory decided to stay in Clermont. As such, young Gregory witnessed first-hand the odd succession crisis that erupted after the death of Bishop Gallus.

According to Gregory of Tours, there was a megalomaniac priest named Cato who belonged to the local clergy of Clermont-Ferrand. He was bluntly described as “a man filled with self-esteem and silly self-admiration” (History of the Franks, Book IV, section 6). Cato had great charisma and was well-liked by the local population and clergy of the region. Before the funeral of Bishop Gallus had even occurred, Cato had reportedly built a large faction in Clermont-Ferrand that pledged to support him in becoming the next bishop of the city. When bishops from nearby cities arrived in Clermont-Ferrand to attended the funeral of Gallus, they encountered Cato and were soon unsure about the priest. According to Gregory, the bishops could tell that the hypnotic priest was a popular figure in Clermont, but they also found his pride to be worrisome. Nevertheless, after the funeral was over and the bishops had left, the people and local clergy of Clermont-Ferrand proclaimed Cato to be their new bishop.

Unfortunately for Cato, his grasp on power was weak. Although he had the local priests and populace on his side, his elevation to the episcopate of Clermont-Ferrand would not be deemed legitimate without the support of other bishops. As those very bishops had been “cursing the pride of this man Cato” after their encounter with him at Gallus’ funeral, the succession to the bishopric of Clermont-Ferrand was still very much in doubt (History of the Franks, Book IV, section 6).

Eventually, a rival priest in Clermont-Ferrand made a move. The man’s name was Cautinus, and he held the rank of archdeacon. He and Cato were prone to arguments, and, although Cautinus was apparently loyal at first, he began to question his loyalties after several heated verbal altercations with the new pseudo-bishop. Following a period of coexistence, Archdeacon Cautinus decided to leave the city on a clandestine mission to undermine Cato. Cautinus knew Cato’s weakness and sought out the elites of the church and state to overrule the decision of the Clermont-Ferrand locals.

Cautinus traveled to the court of King Theudebald (a Frankish king since 547 or 548) and announced that Bishop Gallus of Clermont-Ferrand was dead and that no legitimate successor had yet been ordained. In response to the news, King Theudebald promptly called together a council of Frankish bishops and had them meet in the city of Metz. After some deliberation, the council (and king) agreed upon who should become the next bishop of Clermont-Ferrand. Unfortunately for Cato, he was not their choice. Instead, the council of Metz ordained Cautinus as the new bishop of Clermont-Ferrand.

To Cato’s dismay, Cautinus returned to Clermont with a posse of bishops and evidence of the king’s support. The bishops in Cautinus’ entourage won over many of the clergy in Clermont-Ferrand, while the power of the king simultaneously made the public pull away from Cato. Yet, although the populace and the majority of the clergy had abandoned him, Cato refused to recognize Cautinus’ authority. The bishop’s response to this was to strip Cato and his last followers of their church benefits. According to Gregory of Tours, “Bishop Cautinus saw clearly that nothing could bend Cato’s will or induce him to submit. He therefore removed all church benefits from Cato, his friends and all who supported him, and left them empty and destitute. Any who changed sides and came over to him had what they had lost returned” (History of the Franks, Book IV, section 7).

Despite being dethroned and stripped of all his power, Cato remained hopeful of making an eventual comeback. While he waited, he was said to have thought up entertaining ploys to undermine Cautinus and boost his own popularity. Recording one such stunt, Gregory of Tours wrote, “Once he bribed a woman to behave in church as if she were possessed and to shout out that he, Cato, was a great saint and very dear to God, whereas Bishop Cautinus had committed every crime in the calendar and was unworthy to have been ordained a priest” (History of the Franks, Book IV, section 11). Interestingly, Cato was said to have been offered the bishopric of Tours following the death of Bishop Gunthar around 555, but Cato was so focused on Clermont-Ferrand that he refused the promotion. Gregory, himself a bishop of Tours, found that rejection of his city and title to be quite offensive.

Yet, despite the negative picture that Gregory of Tours painted of Cato, the narrative quickly shifted to portray Bishop Cautinus in an even worse light. Gregory wrote, “Once he had taken possession of his bishopric, Cautinus began to behave so badly that he was soon loathed by everybody” (History of the Franks, Book IV, section 11). The aforementioned woman who claimed that “Cautinus had committed every crime in the calendar” was apparently not far off in her assumption. Gregory of Tours, who lived in Clermont-Ferrand around that time, claimed that Cautinus was a greedy drunkard, who would use lawsuits, imprisonment and torture to seize land. In the worst example presented by Gregory, Bishop Cautinus reportedly tried (unsuccessfully) to bury alive a priest named Anastasius. The priest was said to have escaped and fled to the court of King Chlotar (r. 511-561), a senior king of the Franks. The king gave Anastasius protection, but Cautinus apparently faced no repercussions.

Despite these reported vices, Cautinus served as bishop of Clermont-Ferrand for around two decades. He outlived King Theudebald and King Chlotar, and lived well into the joint reigns of Chlotar’s sons. Curiously, Bishop Cautinus and his rival, Cato, met a poetic death in the same year. The two were both victims of a plague in 571 that ravaged Clermont, Lyons, Bourges, Chalon-sur-Saône and Dijon. Gregory of Tours claimed that Bishop Cautinus tried to flee from his plague-ridden bishopric, but died from the epidemic despite his efforts to escape.  In contrast, Gregory of Tours wrote a glowing eulogy for Cato, who apparently had, by then, turned a new leaf. Gregory wrote, “It was then that the priest Cato died. Many fled from the plague, but Cato never moved from the city of Clermont, burying the dead and with great courage continuing to say Mass. This priest was a person of great humanity and devoted to the poor. He was a proud man, it is true, but what he did at this moment excused everything” (History of the Franks, Book IV, section 31).

Written by C. Keith Hansley

Picture Attribution: (Jan Hus at the council of Constance, painted by Václav Brožík  (1851–1901), [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

Tuesday, March 19, 2019

The Sister-Wives Of King Chlotar I



Scholars have long debated the specific label for the marriage structure used by some of the kings of the Merovingian Dynasty. In his History of the Franks, Bishop Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594) accused several Merovingian kings of practicing polygyny, the act of keeping multiple wives at the same time. Yet, Gregory’s religious biases and motivations make many scholars hesitant to take his insinuations of morally controversial issues, such as polygyny, at face value, especially in regard to figures that did not meet Gregory’s approval. In cases of kings who were regarded as wicked, some believe Gregory may have compressed the timeline of events or introduced wives into the narrative earlier than is proper, so that the subjects of his history seemed all the more immoral. As such, some have re-categorized the multi-women relationships of the Merovingian kings as not polygyny, but concubinage or simply extra-marital affairs. Nomenclature aside, many of the Merovingian kings were indeed openly comfortable with having multiple intimate women in their lives.

One of the kings Gregory accused of being in a polygynous marriage was King Chlotar I (r. 511-561). During his lifetime, King Chlotar was said to have had at least five wives: Guntheuc, Radegund, Ingund, Aregund and Chunsina. Chlotar had affairs with other women, but only the five above were described as his wives in Gregory of Tours’ account. The king had no known children with Guntheuc or Radegund, but he did have eight offspring by his other three wives. Ingund had the most fruitful relationship with the king, and six of Chlotar’s eight children came from her alone. Chlotar’s marriage to Guntheuc (his brother’s widow) was short-lived and mainly for political and economic gain. His marriage to Radegund (c. 531 or 532) was similarly brief—she was a prisoner of war and abandoned him as quickly as possible to become a nun until her death in 587. As for Chunsina, very little information is known of her other than that she had one son with the king. Queens Ingund and Aregund, however, had a very unique relationship and it was allegedly Ingund who directed Chlotar to begin courting Aregund.

In a bawdy tale, Gregory of Tours claimed that Ingund had been married to Chlotar for a while when she suddenly made an interesting request of her husband. Ingund told Chlotar that she had a sister in the palace that was unmarried. Just as the king could reward the family of his favorite vassals with land and titles, Ingund hoped the king would award her sister with an honorable and prestigious marriage. As the story goes, the king agreed to look into the matter and began pondering over who would be a good match for Ingund’s sister. As King Chlotar was said to have been an incredibly lusty man, Gregory of Tours wrote a particularly lecherous quote for the king’s response to Ingund’s request. According to Gregory of Tours, Chlotar said “I have looked everywhere for a wealthy and wise husband whom I could marry to your sister, but I could find no one more eligible than myself.” (History of the Franks, Book IV, section 3). Queen Ingund, according to Gregory’s account, received this answer with surprising calm and she ultimately gave Chlotar her blessing to go marry the sister—Queen Aregund.

As can be expected, there is debate whether Ingund and Aregund were truly queens at the same time, or if Chlotar married Aregund only after Ingund’s death. Whatever the case, King Chlotar did indeed marry both of the sisters during his lifetime and they both bore him children.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Depiction of Chilperic I (543-97) and Fredegonde on Horseback, from the Grandes Chroniques de France, Fol.31r, c. 1375-79 (vellum). Bibliotheque Municipale, Castres, France, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:

Wednesday, March 13, 2019

The Odd Frankish Siege of Saragossa



In 541 or 542, the Frankish co-kings Chlotar (r. 511-561) and Childebert (r. 511-558) crossed the Pyrenees and invaded the Visigothic Kingdom in Spain. The 6th-century bishop and historian, Gregory of Tours, highly embellished his account of the campaign, stating, “they succeeded in conquering a large part of Spain and they returned to Gaul with immense booty” (History of the Franks, Book III, section 29). In truth, the Frankish incursion into Spain turned out to be little more than a glorified raid. Nevertheless, the Franks did reach at least as far as the city of Saragossa, and it was there that Childebert and Chlotar reportedly witnessed a bizarre sight that left them stunned.

As the Franks neared Saragossa, the invading army found themselves anchored to the ground in shock and bewilderment by a powerful display of sight and sound emanating from the city. According to Gregory of Tours, the people of Saragossa had decided to call on God’s aid against the Franks and their method for inspiring divine intervention was apparently to flock en masse to the outskirts of the city and embark on a parade of desperate holy supplication. Consequently, when the Franks arrived on the scene, they were met with the peculiar sight of the population of Saragossa marching around their city walls while dressed in black clothes and hairshirts (rough and itchy garments worn for self-punishment). The darkly-clad mass of bodies was reportedly unkempt in appearance, and many of the city dwellers went a step further by smearing their faces with ashes. When they were not weeping, wailing or pleading toward the heavens, the people marching around Saragossa also spent time singing psalms and hymns. At the head of the parade, curiously enough, was a tunic that the worshippers were handling with great veneration. Despite the self-punishing hairshirts, the faces covered in ashes, and the soulfully sung hymns, it was the tunic that seemed to give the city the greatest sense of hope.

According to Gregory of Tours, Kings Chlotar and Childebert had an odd first assessment of what they were witnessing. He wrote, “as they watched them march round the walls they imagined that it was some curious kind of black magic” (History of the Franks, Book III, section 29). Yet, this first assumption was apparently erased when they captured a local peasant, who told the Franks that the people of Saragossa were not crying out to the Devil, but to God. From the same captive, the Franks also learned that the peculiar tunic which was hoisted with such reverence by the inhabitants of Saragossa was none other than the holy dalmatic vestments of St. Vincent (d. 304), a martyr from the persecutions of Emperor Diocletian.

The Franks, at least according to Bishop Gregory of Tours, were more afraid of St. Vincent’s tunic than of witchcraft or sorcery. Gregory ended his account of the siege of Saragossa by misleadingly stating, “This [St. Vincent’s tunic] scared the troops and they withdrew from the city” (History of the Franks, Book III, section 29). The Franks did eventually leave Spain, but not before seizing the holy tunic of St. Vincent for themselves and bringing it back to France as plunder. King Childebert brought it to Paris and enshrined it in the church that would come to be known as Saint-Germain-des-Prés.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Miniature from the Chronicle of Aegidius Li Musis in the Library of Brussels, c.1349, [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971.
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Chlotar-I 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Childebert-I 
  • https://www.encyclopedia.com/reference/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/childebert-i 
  • https://www.britannica.com/topic/Merovingian-dynasty 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Theudis 
  • https://www.britannica.com/place/Spain/Iberians#ref587114 
  • https://www.ancient.eu/visigoth/ 
  • http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/15434b.htm  

Monday, January 28, 2019

The Comedic And Cartoonish Attempted Assassination Of King Chlotar I



Chlotar (sometimes spelled Lothar) was the youngest of four brothers who jointly ruled over the Frankish Empire after the death of their father, King Clovis I, in the year 511. Chlotar and his brothers, Theuderic, Chlodomer and Childebert often feuded and sometimes even raised armies against each other, yet, miraculously, no brother was assassinated, executed, or killed in battle by another sibling—although, they did sadly assassinate some of their nephews. Even though Frankish assassins did not bring down any of the sons of Clovis, that did not mean that the brothers never tried to assassinate a sibling. According to Gregory of Tours (c. 539-594), Theuderic once attempted to lure his younger brother, Chlotar, into a brutal murder.

Around the year 531, Theuderic and Chlotar conquered the Thuringians and assassinated the defeated regional king, Hermanfrid (or Irminfrid). According to Gregory of Tours, it was sometime after the completion of this Thuringian campaign that Theuderic set in motion his plan to murder Chlotar.  The scene of the attempted crime was at an unnamed estate owned by Theuderic. The most prominent feature of the estate, and the royal manor built there, was a large courtyard enclosed by tall walls. Theuderic’s supposed plan was simple—he hired a band of loyal warriors and hid them in the courtyard, placing a canvas or tapestry so that it shielded them from view. Once the royal guest arrived at the estate and entered the manor, the assassins would then sneak out from behind the canvas, rush into the home, and stab Chlotar to death.

Despite the grisly plot, Gregory’s account of the event quickly shifted from horror to humor. When Chlotar arrived on the scene of his potential murder, he quickly realized something was amiss. Gregory painted the picture like a corny comedy. Upon Chlotar’s entrance into the courtyard, his eye was immediately drawn to the single large canvas. The material was wide enough to cover an entire wall of the courtyard. Yet, the placement of the cloth was completely botched, resulting in a gap between the bottom of the canvass and the floor of the courtyard. As a result of this mistake, Chlotar could see pairs of clearly visible feet jutting out from underneath the canvas.

Warned by the un-stealthy boots of the potential assailants, Chlotar simply walked out of the courtyard and gathered enough of his personal guards to counteract Theuderic’s plot. With his posse of well-armed bodyguards, Chlotar reentered the courtyard and confidently met with his mischievous brother.

Gregory of Tours did not mention if Theuderic’s assassins came charging into the manor, only to find that Chlotar’s guards were waiting for them. Whatever the case, peace was apparently maintained and no blood was spilled at the manor that day. With his plan thwarted, Theuderic apparently tried to buy his way back into his brother’s good graces. He grudgingly handed over a magnificent silver salver (a large decorative tray) as a gift of reparation to his brother. Chlotar apparently forgave his brother, accepted the gift of silver, and promptly left the estate.

Adding to the bizarre nature of the story, Gregory of Tours claimed that Theuderic immediately wanted his silver platter back. He apparently sent his son, Theudebert, to catch up with Chlotar and beg for the salver to be returned. The dutiful Theudebert succeeded in finding his uncle on the road and was reportedly able to awkwardly retrieve the gift and brought it back to Theuderic.

The humorous and odd nature of Gregory’s account of the attempted assassination makes one wonder if the story is fictitious or extremely embellished for comedic effect. On the other hand, Gregory personally met with Chlotar’s son, King Chilperic (d. 584), and also met with Chlotar’s grandson, Childebert II (d. 595), thereby possibly gaining some information passed down through the royal family. Whatever the case—history, fiction, or historical fiction—the peculiar story is entertaining.

Written by C. Keith Hansley.

Picture Attribution: (Frankish footwear illustrated by Albert Kretschmer c. 1882, behind an image of a theatre curtain courtesy of pixabay.com, both [Public Domain] via Creative Commons).

Sources:
  • The History of the Franks by Gregory of Tours, translated by Lewis Thorpe. New York: Penguin Classics, 1971. 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Childebert-I 
  • https://www.encyclopedia.com/reference/encyclopedias-almanacs-transcripts-and-maps/childebert-i 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Chlotar-I 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/St-Radegunda 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Theodoric-I-king-of-Reims 
  • https://www.britannica.com/biography/Theodebert-I