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Medieval Flanders
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Creating the Monastic Past in
Medieval Flanders
Karine Ugé
ISBN 1 903153 16 6
Acknowledgements vii
Abbreviations ix
Maps xi
Genealogies xiii
Introduction 1
Part I. Saint-Bertin 17
Conclusion 162
Bibliography 173
Index 193
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The debt that I have accumulated in the course of this work is immense. First
and foremost, I must express gratitude to my thesis advisor at Boston
College, Robin Fleming. Her impeccable scholarship and the friendly and
intellectually stimulating environment that she cultivated in her seminars
have continuously motivated my desire to pursue this research and broaden
its scope. Since my graduation, she has continuously encouraged me to
publish and improve the book. This project could not have been completed
without the acuity of her advice, her enthusiasm and her endless patience in
correcting my English.
Mark Ormrod, for York Medieval Press, and Caroline Palmer, of Boydell &
Brewer, have trusted my project and greatly helped me to complete this book
with their patience and kind advice. Elisabeth van Houts has encouraged me,
offered me invaluable advice and kindly shared her most recent research
with me. Dean Michael Smyer, Dean of Boston College Graduate School of
Arts and Sciences, generously offered me the grant that made this publication
possible; my gratitude to Michael Smyer is immense. During my graduate
studies, grants from the Bibliographical Society of America and Boston
College allowed me to do research in libraries in France and Belgium. I have
benefited there from the kind offices of Madame Seguin, at the Bibliothèque
Municipale de Boulogne sur Mer, and Madame Le Maner, at the Bibliothèque
Municipale de Saint-Omer.
On both sides of the Atlantic, I have received support and advice from a
great number of scholars. Janet Nelson has made extremely useful comments
on my work and has warmly encouraged me in my path of research. I am
grateful to Alain Dierkens, Arnoud-Jan Bijsterveld, Anne-Marie Helvétius,
Chris Lewis and Diane Reilly for giving me invaluable opportunities to
present and publish my work. I also wish to thank Professor Laurent Morelle,
who has kindly given me access to his unpublished Thèse d’Habilitation.
In the long and sometimes arduous path of writing a book, my friends and
family have been an invaluable asset. Sharing, almost daily, the joys and
angst of this process with my friends and fellow medievalists Christine
Senecal and Nathalie Stalmans has been a wonderful encouragement. I must
thank my family, whose members have endured years of endless stories
about Flemish monks. My parents, Claire and Robert Ugé, have always
encouraged me and provided me with their warm support. My husband,
Benoit Gerard has patiently read and commented on many a draft. This book
is dedicated to him and our beloved daughters Elisabeth and Alexandra.
vii
ABBREVIATIONS
AA SS Acta Sanctorum
ASB Acta Sanctorum Belgii, ed. J. Ghespuiere (Brussels, 1783–1794),
6 vols
Anal. Boll. Analecta Bollandiana
BAR British Archaeological Series
BCRH Bulletin de la Commission Royale d’Histoire
BHL Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina (Brussels, 1898–1901), 2
vols
BL British Library, London
BN Bibliothèque Nationale, Paris
BSM Boulogne-sur-Mer, Bibliothèque Municipale
BSAM Bulletin de la Société des Antiquaires de la Morinie
CLA Codices Latini Antiquiores. A Paleographical Guide to Latin
Manuscripts Prior to the Ninth Century, ed. E. A. Lowe, 11 vols.
(Oxford, 1934–1966)
CSEL Corpus Scriptorum Ecclesiasticorum Latinorum
Diplomata Diplomata Belgica ante annum millesimum centesimum scripta,
Belgica ed. Gysseling and A. C. F. Koch, vol. I, Teksten (Brussels,
1950)
DHGE Dictionnaire d’histoire et de géographie ecclésiastiques (Paris,
1912– )
KBR Bibliothèque Royale, Brussels
MGH Monumenta Germaniae Historica
SRG Scriptores Rerum Germanicarum
SRM Scriptores Rerum Merovingicarum
SS Scriptores
MSAM Mémoires de la Société des Antiquaires de la Morinie
PL Patrologiae cursus completus, series Latina, ed. J. P. Migne
(Paris, 1841–1864)
Poet. Lat. Poetae Latini Medii Aevi
RB Revue Bénédictine
RBPH Revue Belge de Philologie et d’Histoire
RHE Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique
RHEF Revue d’Histoire de l’Église de France
RN Revue du Nord
Settimane Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano di Studi sull’alto
Medioevo
S-O Saint-Omer, Bibliothèque Municipale
ix
Abbreviations
x
xi
Map 1. The Flemish Pagi, ca. 900
Map 2. The County of Flanders, ca. 1100
xii
The comital family of Flanders (ninth–twelfth century)
xiii
The comital family of Boulogne (ninth–twelfth century)
xiv
Rictrude’s kin according to the studied sources
xv
INTRODUCTION
1 On the formation and history of the county of Flanders, see most recently, H. J.
Tanner, Families, Friends and Allies: Boulogne and Politics in Northern France and
England, c. 879–1160 (Leiden, 2004), pp. 21–7; D. Nicholas, Medieval Flanders (London,
1992), pp. 39–55 and A. C. F. Koch, ‘Het Graafschap Vlaanderen van de 9de eeuw tot
1
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
1070’, in Algemene Geschiedenis der Nederlanden (Utrecht, 1982), pp. 354–83; a useful
overview running up to the time of Arnulf the Great is found in R. McKitterick, The
Frankish Kingdoms under the Carolingians (London, 1983), pp. 248–54. See also J.
Dhondt, Études sur la naissance des principautés territoriales (Bruges, 1948); J. Dhondt,
Les Origines de la Flandre et de l’Artois (Arras, 1944); F.-L. Ganshof, La Flandre sous les
premiers comtes (Brussels, 1944) and L. Vanderkindere, La Formation territoriale des
principautés belges au moyen âge, 2 vols. (Brussels, 1902) I.
2 McKitterick, The Frankish Kingdoms, p. 249; on Ghent and its two abbeys, Saint-Peter
and Saint-Bavo, see G. Declercq, ‘Heiligen, lekenabten en hervormers: De Gentse
abdijen van Sint-Pieters en Sint-Baafs tijdens de Eerste Middeleeuw (7de–12de
eeuw)’, in Ganda en Blandinium. De Gentse Abdijen van Sint-Pieters en Sint-Baafs, ed. G.
Declercq (Ghent, 1997), pp. 13–40 and G. Declercq and A. Verhulst, ‘Early Medieval
Ghent between Two Abbeys and the Count’s Castle’, in Ghent: In Defense of a Rebel-
lious City, ed. J. Decavele (Antwerp, 1989), pp. 37–59; see also A. C. F. Koch, ‘Gent in
de 9de en 10de eeuw. Enkele benaderingen’, Stadsarcheologie. Bodem en Monument in
Gent 14 (1990), 3–43.
3 Ganshof, La Flandre, p. 18.
4 McKitterick, The Frankish Kingdoms, p. 250.
5 On the family of Eberhard of Friuli, see E. Favre, ‘La famille d’Évrard marquis de
Frioul dans le royaume Franc de l’Ouest’, in Études d’histoire du moyen âge dédiées à
Gabriel Monod (Paris, 1896), pp. 155–62; Ph. Grierson, ‘La maison d’Évrard de Frioul
et les origines du comté de Flandre’, Revue du Nord 24 (1938), 241–66 and J. Dhondt,
‘Une dynastie inconnue de comtes d’Ostrevant’, in Miscellanea Historica in Honorem
Leonis van der Essen (Brussels, 1947), pp. 177–87.
2
Introduction
3
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
4
Introduction
met suggests that the observance of the rule that he wished to impose was
fairly severe. Gerard started his religious career by founding a monastic
community on his patrimonial land of Brogne in 921.12 In 931, following the
inventio of St Ghislain’s relics, he was called by Duke Gislebert to ‘restore’ the
abbey of Saint-Ghislain.13 Arnulf and Gerard had probably met in the
920s–930s since both men were connected with the emerging Robertians.14 In
941, Arnulf entrusted Gerard with the abbacy and the reform of Saint-Peter at
Ghent. Besides the re-establishment of the Benedictine Rule, the restoration
involved the restitution of lands which Arnulf had seized for his own profit.
He did not give back everything though – only the lands needed by the
community to maintain a proper standard of living. Furthermore, in blatant
contradiction to the Rule, the count-abbot maintained his right to approve the
regularly elected abbot.15 In 942, Gerard undertook the reform of Saint-
Bavo.16 Once the Ghent abbeys were put on the track of reform, Arnulf sent
Gerard on a similar mission to Saint-Bertin, where he remained abbot until
947. Absorbed by his duties at Ghent, Gerard attempted to entrust
Saint-Bertin’s abbacy to his nephew Wido, but the young man did not share
his uncle’s pious aspirations, and he was soon removed from his post.
Saint-Bertin was then ruled by Womar, a monk from Ghent, until Arnulf gave
the abbacy to his own nephew, Hildebrand, in 950.17 Hildebrand’s reform
was apparently successful and, in 953, Arnulf sent him to restore the abbey of
Saint-Vaast.18 In 948, as soon as he controlled Saint-Riquier, Arnulf nomi-
nated Fulchar, a disciple of Gerard, to restore the community to the Benedic-
5
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
tine Rule.19 Finally, thanks to his full mastering of Ostrevant, Arnulf took
control of Saint-Amand, which he restored in 952.20
In the short term, the count’s strategy appears to have been beneficial to
both the count and the monks. The restored monasteries were given regular
abbots, but the count remained in control of the nominations. Seized lands
were given back to their legitimate owners, but Arnulf did not feel compelled
to give more than was necessary for the communities’ survival. It would soon
appear, however, that this sweeping reform movement, which had restored
the Benedictine Rule throughout Flanders in exactly a decade, was
short-lived. Paradoxically, the reason for its success, the count of Flanders’
unfaltering support, was also its main weakness. The reactions of the commu-
nities to Gerard and Arnulf’s intervention, especially at Saint-Bertin, clearly
show that the reform was imposed by force from the top, and was not desired
by a majority of the monks.21 Its promoters were a very small circle of people,
closely related to Arnulf and Gerard, who were not able to attract a broad
base of followers. In these conditions, the movement was unlikely survive its
patrons. Gerard’s restorations were too dependent on secular support to
survive Arulf’s death and his successors’ political setbacks. The rapid decay
of Gerard’s Benedictine revival was not limited to Flanders. Alain Dierkens
has shown that by the end of the tenth century Gerard’s own community of
Brogne had already forgotten his reforming action. In this respect, it is signifi-
cant that Gerard’s vita was not written before 1074–1075.22 The fruits of
Gerard of Brogne’s and Arnulf the Great’s reform movement were so meagre
that half a century later, all the monasteries of the county had, once again, to
be restored to Benedictine observance.
Baldwin IV re-conquered northern Ternois, including Saint-Bertin, and
even slightly expanded the Flemish border east of the Scheldt; furthermore,
he laid the foundation for an increasingly centralized Flemish administra-
tion.23 In this scheme, Baldwin’s intervention in ecclesiastical affairs, espe-
cially his relations with the bishopric of Cambrai, played an important part.24
First of all, he tried, to no avail, to interfere with episcopal elections, and, with
6
Introduction
more success, to promote the Peace of God.25 Like Arnulf I, Baldwin IV asso-
ciated himself with a monastic reformer, Richard of Saint-Vanne, in order to
revive the Benedictine Rule once again in Flemish monasteries.26
The series of monastic restorations undertaken by Baldwin and Richard in
Flanders cannot be dissociated from the movement of Benedictine revival
initiated throughout the bishopric of Cambrai-Arras by Bishop Erluin and
then by Bishop Gerard I.27 Gerard, future bishop of Cambrai, and Richard,
future abbot of Saint-Vanne at Verdun, had met at the cathedral school of
Reims, where both were probably taught by Gerbert of Aurillac, the future
Pope Sylvester II. Richard had started his career at Reims as a canon, and
became a Benedictine monk when he entered the monastery of Saint-Vanne,
where he became abbot in 1004. Richard’s reform movement was based on the
somewhat old-fashioned principle that monasteries should abide by their
bishop’s strict control, which explains the close collaboration between Richard
and bishops Erluin and Gerard. Richard also encouraged Gerard to take part
in the Peace of God movement.28 Soon after Richard’s election, Saint-Vanne
began to flourish.29 His success was so striking that, as early as 1008, Erluin of
Cambrai asked Richard to re-establish the Rule in the monastery of
Saint-Vaast at Arras, of which he was made abbot. Richard, who tried to
enforce strict Benedictine obedience, did not meet any more enthusiasm from
7
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
his reformed communities than Gerard of Brogne had met in his time. After
Saint-Vaast, Baldwin and Richard undertook the restoration of Saint-Amand,
of which Richard was abbot from 1013 to 1018, and in 1024, Marchiennes and
its priory of Hamage.30 Marchiennes was originally a mixed community, but it
had progressively become a nunnery. By the eleventh century, Marchiennes
had lost an important part of its landholding – as a result of the nuns’ inability
to defend their interests, according to the Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium.
The reformers expelled the nuns, replaced them with Benedictine monks and
returned seized properties.31 In 1029, Baldwin gave Richard the abbacies of
Saint-Peter and Saint-Bavo at Ghent.32 Roderic, a disciple of Leduinus of
Saint-Vaast, became abbot of Saint-Bertin in 1021 and undertook the Benedic-
tine restoration of the monastery despite the community’s protests.33 In 1022,
Roderic restored Bergues-Saint-Winnoc, where the canons were replaced by
monks of Saint-Bertin.34
From a secular point of view, the monastic reform was certainly beneficial
to the monastic communities, thanks to the restitution of lands and the reno-
vation of buildings which accompanied the re-establishment of the Rule. The
effects of the reform were especially visible at Marchiennes. After the writing
by Hucbald of Saint-Amand of the vita of its patron saint, Rictrude, on the
community’s request in 907, the name of Marchiennes had almost completely
vanished from contemporary sources and the community had probably all
but disappeared by the time of its restoration. After Leduinus’s intervention,
Marchiennes flourished as a cultural, artistic and spiritual centre in the
twelfth century. In this case, however, the restoration in fact amounted to a
foundation, since the community settled by Leduinus was a completely new
one, presumably constituted of enthusiastic Benedictine monks. In the
monasteries where the ‘new’ monks brought in by Richard and his disciples
had to convert the ‘old’ monks, the implementation of the reform was more
problematic. The monks of Saint-Vaast tried to rid themselves of their new
abbot by cutting his throat, and the monks of Saint-Bertin were only slightly
less violent in their opposition to Roderic. His successor, Bovo, undertook the
re-building of the abbatial church, which was an important part of Richard’s
reform. By the end of the eleventh century, however, Abbot Lambert found
his community’s religious practice so lax that he tried to submit it to the
authority of Cluny.35
8
Introduction
*
The central issue of this book, and the one which in some way embraces all
the other issues that will be addressed, is the processes through which
monastic communities created a usable past for themselves.36 Most of the
texts studied here were written in specific circumstances, which were often –
but not always – periods of crisis or upheaval. These moments of crisis, which
spurred on narrative production, were often due to conflicts of authority with
the local bishop, struggles over landholding with neighbours, disputes over
the possession of relics with other religious communities, attempts to reform
religious communities, and issues of prestige and spiritual supremacy.37
Putting quill to parchment was indeed, alongside the ceremonies meant to
assert the supernatural power of their patron saints, one of the most practi-
cable solutions available to monks and canons in conflicts with lay or ecclesi-
astical foes.38 But, as we shall see, narrative production was more than an
answer to external interventions: it was also one of the means through which
communities built a sense of their own identity as a group with a common
past and a common purpose. Writing, and sometimes rewriting, their own
past was for monastic communities a powerful tool of self-representation
which allowed them to gather around a commonly accepted version of their
history. This process strengthened a sense of identity for the group itself as
well as for its representation in the outside world.
The first example to be studied is Saint-Bertin (Sithiu). The community
possessed two main patron saints and shrines: St-Omer’s and St-Bertin’s. In
the ninth century, it was divided between a community of monks centred on
St Bertin’s shrine and a community of canons dedicated to St Omer. Nonethe-
less, Sithiu remained a single landholding unit and there was only one abbot,
who could be a monk or a canon. After Gerard of Brogne’s reform in the
mid-tenth century, monks and canons had their own abbot and the two
communities were more clearly separated. The separation – and the monks’
subsequent loss of control over St Omer’s cult – pitted the two communities
36 For the use of this expression, see P. Geary, Phantoms of Remembrance: Memory and
Oblivion at the End of the First Millennium (Princeton, 1994), p.112 and G. Spiegel,
Romancing the Past: The Rise of the Vernacular Prose Historiography in Thirteenth-
Century France (Berkeley and Los Angeles, 1993), pp. 1–2.
37 In her study of the development of Old French historiography, Gabriel Spiegel has
developed the idea that historiography was a powerful tool for redeeming lost
causes; see Romancing the Past, esp. pp. 1–10 and 315–19. For a specific, and
geographically close, example of narratives induced by situations of crisis and
conflict, see also S. Farmer, Communities of Saint Martin: Legend and Ritual in Medieval
Tours (Ithaca, 1991).
38 On the ways in which monks fought back against their enemies through text produc-
tion, see for example B. Rosenwein, T. Head and S. Farmer, ‘Monks and their
Enemies: A Comparative Approach’, Speculum 66 (1991), 764–96; T. Head, Hagiog-
raphy and the Cult of Saints: The Diocese of Orléans, 800–1200 (Cambridge, 1990), pp.
177–81 and 290–5.
9
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
against each other. The monks responded to the loss by producing an endless
series of vitae and forged charters with the sole purpose of re-inventing the
history, and particularly the foundation, of the abbey in their favour.
The second section of this book is devoted to the narrative cycle stemming
from Hucbald of Saint-Amand’s Vita Rictrudis, written at the beginning of the
tenth century for the double community of Marchiennes. Although Hucbald
says that no archives and ancient documents were available to him, he was
able to piece together a remarkably detailed narrative of Rictrude’s life and
the foundation of Marchiennes. Because it introduces a great number of
secondary characters, the Vita Rictrudis was a seminal text which from which
a great deal of other texts and legends could be created. Later authors appro-
priated the legend and adapted it to their needs. Hence, in the course of the
tenth and eleventh centuries, most of Rictrude’s children, who were saints in
their own right, were given their own vitae based on the Vita Rictrudis.
Furthermore, from the eleventh century onward, the core of the legend itself
was considerably altered in order to sacralize the community’s landholding
and to protect it from predatory lay neighbours. Finally, sometime in the
tenth century, the relics of Rictrude’s son, Maurontus, and their friend, St
Amatus, were translated to the chapter church of Douai. The translation of
the saints, who were originally part of the legend of Rictrude and
Marchiennes, generated the appropriation of the Vita Rictrudis by the canons
of Saint-Amé. In their own foundation story, written in the eleventh century,
the canons integrated the sections of the vita which were relevant for the
legend of their tutelary saints and transformed them according to their own
needs – namely the legitimization of their landholding. Therefore, over two
centuries, Rictrude’s legend grew from oral tradition to the Vita Rictrudis, and
then into a complex narrative cycle, composed not only of hagiographic texts,
but also of charters and entries in annals and chronicles.
Considering the fraught circumstances which often triggered narrative
production, there is no doubt that the texts written during occasions of
trouble had strong political overtones which influenced both their content
and their form. In the light of this, it is wise to go beyond exploiting the
sources as mere quarries for facts, and to consider the very writing of these
sources as a telling event in the history of these communities.39 As a result,
more emphasis has been placed in this study on the question ‘Why was this
text written?’ than on the question ‘What factual evidence does this text
preserve?’ Although I have attempted in each chapter to reconstruct the
history of these religious communities as accurately as possible, the main
concern of this study is not the factual reconstruction of some hypothetical
‘historical truth’. Rather, it seeks to determine the motives that led a commu-
39 See G. Spiegel, The Past as Text: The Theory and Practice of Medieval Historiography
(Baltimore, 1997).
10
Introduction
nity to write a text about its history and how these motives influenced the
content and the form of the text, and transformed a community’s under-
standing of its past.
Narratives like the ones discussed in this study enabled communities to
represent themselves to their audience in a way that was useful to whatever
present cause absorbed their energies and caused their anxieties. Further-
more, the way they chose to represent their present and their past could
sometimes differ significantly from reality. Indeed, the creation of a past that
could be useful to the present often required the alteration of existing docu-
ments as well as the forging of new ones. This means that in certain circum-
stances, a community looked back at its past history through its archives,
written narratives and oral tradition, and pieced together a new version
better fitted to its present needs. This creation of a new history was
dependent both on the selection and transformation of old documents and
the forging of new ones. Patrick Geary has analysed how the constitution of
monastic archives was an unending process of preservation, neglect and
wilful destruction. And what these practices mean is that, when authors in
the tenth and eleventh centuries started to compose gesta and cartularies, they
were, from the outset, faced with a past which had already been transformed
by the previous generations of monks.40 In other words, the process of
making the past useful was a continuous one throughout a community’s life,
and one has to keep this in mind when studying a given historiographic
work.
Another issue at stake is the problem of forgery and the alteration of the
documents of the past.41 The notion of forgery itself is problematic because it
presupposes that a ‘true’ version of an event was extent before the forgery,
and that historical accuracy pre-existed the creation of the ‘false’ historical
document, be it a charter or new a version of a story. Considering that
monastic communities kept their archives and their historical tradition in a
perpetual flux and that this tradition evolved according to the shifting needs
of the present, the ‘true story’ is often difficult to recover. I have thus often
eschewed the notion of false or true; instead, I have emphasized the reasons
which led to the transformation of older stories or the creation of new ones.
It is essential to discuss the kinds of texts considered here as
‘historiographic’. The word historiography is to be understood in its broadest
40 Geary, Phantoms of Remembrance, pp. 81–7; the case of the abbey of Saint-Denis as an
example of a monastic community making its archives ‘useful’ by pruning and
forging is particularly telling: see ibid., pp. 107–13, with related bibliography. On
historiographic production and propaganda at Saint-Denis in the twelfth and thir-
teenth centuries, see Spiegel, The Past as Text, pp. 83–98 and 111–62.
41 On the issue of forgery, see the articles in Fälschungen im Mittelalter. Internationaler
Kongress der Monumenta Germaniae Historica, München 16–19 September 1986
(Hanover, 1988).
11
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
sense, and it includes the whole range of written documents that tell of events
affecting the community.42 Thus, I have examined historiographic texts stricto
sensu, such as chronicles, annals, historiae, gesta, as well as texts that are gener-
ally associated with historiography, such as hagiography, miracle stories and
relics narratives.43 Beyond this, charter material has also been considered
within the framework of historiography, when it contained narratives
describing past or contemporary events important to the community. For
example, I have taken into account genuine and forged charters that relate a
community’s foundation story. I have also considered charters when their
copying in cartularies or in other forms of narrative, their public presentation
or their forging was part of a concerted effort to transform the community’s
representation of its past. I have made no distinction between texts relating
past events and texts relating contemporary ones. Indeed, whatever the
period they cover, narratives produced by monastic communities are as – and
often even more – informative about the period of their redaction than they
are about the past to which they refer. Finally, whenever it is relevant and
possible, the artistic production, when used to illustrate a community’s past,
12
Introduction
has also been included, since such illustrations were part of the same process
of correcting the past.
Throughout this study on the politics of narrative production, three
closely related subjects have surfaced: the genre of texts produced, the type of
stories told and the intended audience. It is now well acknowledged that the
boundaries between the different narrative genres are not clear-cut and that
the different genres inter-penetrate one another.44 Land donations were
recorded in vitae, chronicles could include charter material as well as
hagiographic texts. Similarly, hagiographic texts, especially vitae of monastic
founders, often contained the history of the foundation of the religious
community in which it was written.45 Beyond this, the commemorative and
liturgical nature of charters, cartularies and gesta has long been recognized.46
Because of the elasticity of the different genres of medieval texts, almost any
kind of text could fulfil almost any need. For example, during the period
studied, a monastic community was as likely to assert its rights over a prop-
erty through hagiographic texts as it was to forge a charter literally claiming a
13
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
donation.47 As for the type of stories that monastic communities wrote and
transformed to serve their present needs, foundation stories emerge as partic-
ularly important. This is understandable, because foundation stories were
seminal texts for communities’ historical traditions, and they asserted not
only a story about the community’s genesis, but also its spiritual relation to
its patron saint and its legitimate ownership of its original property.48 Given
the spiritual and material importance of these foundation stories, it is not
surprising that tales of a community’s beginning were the most likely to be
remodelled for new needs. Both Marchiennes and Saint-Bertin carefully
crafted and recrafted their foundation stories. The third issue at stake, the
audience, is the most difficult one with which to come to grips, because it is
often extremely difficult to assess to whom the texts were directed and how
they were actually used.49 First of all, it should not be assumed that texts were
aimed at a single audience, but rather, that they could be simultaneously
directed toward both the community and the outside world. For example,
miracle stories in which the saint punishes the community’s spoliators were
as much a warning for their neighbours as they were part of the communal
liturgy that gathered the community around its patron saint. Second, the
intended audience is not always what it first appears to be. For example,
cartularies do not seem to have been used in trials as proof of ownership, but
they certainly played an important role in the commemoration of patrons and
abbots within the monastic communities themselves.50
The intricacy of the issue of inside and outside audience brings us to an
important aspect of the politics of narrative production that I have so far
neglected: its spiritual and liturgical functions. Indeed, while the vitae,
miracle collections and relic narratives may appear as a self-serving and
cynical use of the saints’ protection to fulfil a political agenda, they were
above all else liturgical texts, which bound the community together around
14
Introduction
its patron saint. The daily liturgy, the processions outside the cloister, the
public ceremonies involving relics, and of course the oral transmission of
historical and spiritual traditions, were different ways of representing and
asserting the values and concerns of the community. The narratives produced
by monastic communities are only the surviving fragments of this perfor-
mance. Monastic communities were completely identified with their patron
saints and, as a result, the saints’ interests were confused with the communi-
ties’; therefore, when the monks were making legitimate or illegitimate
claims in the interest of their community, they were also acting on behalf of
their patron saint.51
In terms of chronology, the book covers the period running roughly from
the ninth to the end of the eleventh century. Indeed, the process by which
communities engaged in remodelling their past becomes visible from the
ninth century onwards, when they began to write new vitae and compile their
charters into cartularies. I have not generally pursued my investigation much
beyond the beginning of the twelfth century. Indeed, the twelfth century was
a period marked by social, intellectual and religious changes that influenced
the ways monastic communities looked at and used their past. The develop-
ment of Scholastic thought changed the face of historiography by casting
suspicion upon the ‘miraculous’; consequently, historiography was progres-
sively stripped of its super-natural elements.52 By the same token, miracles
and a saint’s patronage could no longer be considered valid means of
asserting a community’s possessions. As charters emerged as the sole
commonly accepted record of property transactions, the earlier trend of
dealing with conflicts through hagiographic and historiographic narratives
receded.53
51 On the fact that monastic land belonged to the community’s patron saints and the
implications of this, see B. Rosenwein, To Be the Neighbor of St Peter: the Social Meaning
of Cluny’s Property, 909–1049 (Ithaca, 1989).
52 On historiography in the twelfth century, see The Perception of the Past in
Twelfth-Century Europe, ed. P. Magdalino (London, 1992); on the radical transforma-
tion of historiography in the twelfth century, see Lifshitz, ‘Beyond Positivism’, pp.
104–8 and J. Coleman, Ancient and Medieval Memories: Studies in the Reconstruction of
the Past (Cambridge, 1992), pp. 285–324.
53 Although in Flanders this trend was under way earlier than in other regions:
Bijsterveld, ‘The Commemoration of Patrons and Gifts’, p. 209. On the increasing use
and preservation of charters in the central Middle Ages, see M. T. Clanchy, From
Memory to Written Record: England 1066–1307, 2nd edn (Oxford, 1993).
15
PART I
Saint-Bertin
THE FIRST ABBEY studied here is the abbey of Saint-Bertin. It is an ideal case
to begin with because of the abundance and variety of texts produced by the
community in the tenth and eleventh centuries in order to reinvent its past.
This wealth of documentation will allow us from the outset to deal with
many of the main issues related to a monastic community’s politics of narra-
tive production: the preservation and alteration of its archives and historical
tradition, the different motives behind its historiographic production, the role
of forgery, and the subjects of genres and types of texts used in the process.
What is more, it happens that Saint-Bertin remained, until it dissolution in the
eighteenth century, embroiled in the same conflicts that had triggered the
production of these narratives in the early Middle Ages. The persistence of
the conflict provides an exceptional opportunity to examine the impact of the
way archives were kept, not only for the Middle Ages and the Early Modern
period, but on our ability to properly reconstruct the past. The profusion of
sources emanating from Saint-Bertin for most of the period covered here
allows us both to reconstruct its history in some detail, and to deal at length
with the issues of the politics of narrative production.
The first chapter of this section, Chapter 1, recounts the history of the
monastery from its foundation by St Omer and St Mummolinus in the middle
of the seventh century, to the end of the eleventh century. Although
Saint-Bertin’s importance as a religious, economical and cultural centre is
unanimously acknowledged, no scholar before has undertaken a comprehen-
sive account of its history. This chapter seeks to correct this situation by
covering the major issues of the life of Saint-Bertin’s community: its founda-
tion and expansion in its first century and its role in the politics of successive
dynasties – Merovingian, Carolingian and Flemish – which controlled and
patronized it. The task of reconstructing Saint-Bertin’s past is facilitated by
the huge number of narrative and diplomatic sources produced by the monks
throughout the period.
17
Saint-Bertin
18
CHAPTER ONE
The abbey of Saint-Bertin at Sithiu was founded by St Omer in the 640s. The
foundation of the monastic community is closely associated with the estab-
lishment of the episcopal see of Thérouanne by St Omer, under the impetus
of King Dagobert (623–639) and Acharius, bishop of Noyon (d. 640).1 The
main source for the early history of Saint-Bertin and the bishopric of
Thérouanne is the Vita Audomari Prima (VA1), written at Sithiu in the early
ninth century.2 According to the vita, Omer was born in the region of
Coutances (dep. Manche);3 at his mother’s death, Friulfus and Omer left the
Cotentin region for Burgundy, where they entered the monastery of Luxeuil,
at the time ruled by St Columbanus’s successor, Abbot Eustasius (615–629).4
Friulfus may have become acquainted with Luxeuil and Columbanian
monasticism thanks to the activity of Potentinus, a disciple of Columbanus,
who, according to the Vita Columbani, had gathered a cohort of monks in the
Cotentin region.5 Luxeuil at this time was one of the major breeding grounds
1 On the bishopric of Thérouanne and its origins, Ch. Mériaux, ‘Thérouanne et son
diocèse jusqu’à la fin de l’époque carolingienne’, Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Chartes 158
(2001), 377–406. See also H. Van Werveke, Het Bisdom Terwaan van den Oorsprong tot
het Begin der Vertiende Eeuw (Ghent, 1924); F. Vercauteren, Étude sur les Civitates de la
Belgique Seconde, contribution à l’histoire urbaine du nord de la France de la fin du IIIe à la
fin du XIe siècle, Mémoires de l’Académie Royale de Belgique 33 (Brussels, 1934), pp.
318–23, and J. Heuclin, ‘Le diocèse de Thérouanne à l’époque de Saint Omer’,
Mélanges de Science Religieuse 56 (1999), 81–8.
2 Vita S. Audomari Prima is the first part of a hagiographic triptych which also contains
the vitae of St Bertin and St Winnoc: Vitae Audomari, Bertini, Winnoci (BHL 763) ed. W.
Levison, MGH SRM 5 (Hanover, 1910), pp. 729–86: Vita S. Audomari Prima (VA1), pp.
753–64; Vita S. Bertini Prima (VB1), pp. 765–9, and Vita S. Winnoci Prima (VW1), pp.
769–75.
3 Folcard, the eleventh-century author of the third life of St Bertin, assumed that
Constantia civitate (VA1, c. 1, p. 754) was Constanz, in Germany, but there is no doubt
that Omer was indeed from Coutances (VB3: Vita Tertia Sancti Bertini (BHL 1293), AA
SS, 2 Sept., c. 7, p. 605); on this, see see VA1; Mériaux, ‘Thérouanne’, p. 390, n. 45.
4 VA1, cc. 1–2, pp. 754–5; Mériaux, ‘Thérouanne’, pp. 393–4.
5 Jonas of Bobbio, Vitae Columbani Abbatis Discipulorumque (BHL 1898), ed. B. Krusch,
19
Saint-Bertin
MGH SRM IV (Hanover, 1902), lib. I, c. 21, p. 94; G. Coolen, ‘St. Colomban et St.
Omer’, in Mélanges Colombaniens. Actes du Congrès International de Luxeuil (20–23
Juillet 1950) (Paris, 1951), pp. 361–2. These were not Coutances’s first contacts with
Christianity, since St Lô was bishop between 525 and 565, see C. Laplatte,
‘Coutances’, in DHGE 13 (1953), col. 974–7.
6 Vita Columbani, lib. II, c. 8, p.123; on St Columban, Luxeuil and Merovingian monasti-
cism, see Colombanus and Merovingian Monasticism, ed. H. B. Clarke and M. Brennan,
BAR International Series 113 (Oxford, 1981) and F. Prinz, Frühes Mönchtum im
Frankenreich. Kultur und Gesellschaft in Gallien, den Rheinlanden und Bayern am Beispiel
der Monastischen Entwicklung (4 bis 8 Jahrhundert) (Munich, 1965), pp. 121–40; on the
limits of the geographical and temporal influence of ‘Iro-Frankish’ monasticism, see
A. Dierkens, ‘Prolégomène à une histoire des relations culturelles entre les îles
britanniques et le Continent pendant le haut moyen âge’, in La Neustrie. Les pays au
nord de la Loire de 650 à 850, ed. H. Atsma, 2 vols. (Sigmaringen, 1989), I, pp. 371–94.
7 VA1, c. 4, pp. 755–6.
8 Mériaux, ‘Thérouanne’, p. 384.
9 Mériaux, ‘Thérouanne’, pp. 389–90.
10 VA1, c. 1, p. 754.
11 The Liber Floridus, written in 1120 by Lambert, a canon of Saint-Omer, contains a list
of bishops of Thérouanne: Series Episcoporum Morinensium, ed. O. Holder-Egger,
MGH SS XIII (Hanover, 1881), p. 389; according to this list, Omer became bishop in
638. The names of his alleged predecessors do not appear in the sources before the
eleventh century: see Levison, Vitae Audomari, Bertini, Winnoci, p. 729. On the Liber
Floridus, see Lamberti S. Audomari Canonici Liber Floridus (Facsimile), ed. A. Derolez
and I. Stubbe (Ghent, 1968); Liber Floridus Colloquium. Papers Read at the International
Meeting Held in the University Library Ghent on 3–5 September1967, ed. A. Derolez
(Ghent, 1973) and A. Derolez, Lambertus qui Librum Fecit. Een Codicologische Studie van
20
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
21
Saint-Bertin
the ecclesiastical hierarchy was certainly not yet complete. It is in this sense
that Omer’s missionary activity should be understood.17
In his mission, Omer relied on the support of the local aristocracy and a
close collaboration with his own compatriots. According to the VA1, Omer
had converted and baptized a wealthy man named Adroald who gave him an
important part of his inheritance, the villa of Sithiu and its appurtenances.18
On his new piece of land, Omer built a church, which he dedicated to the
Virgin Mary.19 He also wanted to use Sithiu for the foundation of a monastic
community. To this effect, he invited three of his fellow countrymen,
Mummolinus, Ebertramn and Bertin, ‘three men with one mind’, to join him
from Coutances.20
The foundation of the monastery that would become Saint-Bertin, as
related in the VA1, took place in two phases. In the first stage, Omer offered to
build his companions a monastic house, wherever they liked in the villa of
Sithiu. Thus, Mummolinus, Bertin and others built a first monastery on the
river Aa, at a place known as Vetus Monasterium, today Saint-Momelin, a few
miles north of the town of Saint-Omer (dep. Nord, arr. Dunkerque). But after
some time, as the place proved unfit, the three men decided to relocate the
community. They did so, on a small island formed by two arms of the Aa, a
few miles south of the Vetus Monasterium.21 The new monastery was dedi-
cated to St Peter, and Omer chose Mummolinus as first abbot. Mummolinus
left Sithiu soon after, when he was appointed bishop of Noyon, where he
succeeded St Eligius (d. 660). At about the same time, Ebertramn became
abbot of Saint-Quentin (dep. Aisne), and Bertin, left alone with the commu-
nity, was entrusted with the abbacy by St Omer. A few years later, Omer, old
and tired, died and was buried, according to his will, in his church of the
Virgin Mary.22 Indeed, like many of his successors to the episcopal see, Omer
favored Sithiu as burial place. Clearly, from the onset the monastic commu-
nity superseded Thérouanne in terms of religious and cultural activity as well
as economic and political weight.23
Besides the hagiographic texts, the first years of Sithiu can be recon-
structed with the help of a few charters. The first one is dated 6 September
22
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
649, and records the circumstances and the details of Adroald’s donation.24
As will be discussed later, this charter is not entirely above suspicion and was
probably partly forged in the tenth century.25 Nevertheless, the year 649, the
eleventh year of King Clovis II’s reign (639–657), is plausible, and the original
assets of Sithiu, as enumerated in the charter, are certainly reliable.26 The
charter deals with the donation, for the purpose of building a monastery, of
the villa called Sithiu, on the river Aa, and its appurtenances, as well as the
neighboring villae.27 Three of the identified villae (Wisques, Tatinghem,
Zudausque) are concentrated around Sithiu, the core of the asset, while the
other six are spread from the North Sea (Synthe, Loon, Le Mat, Le Grand
Zeluc) to the Aisne (Francilly-Selency) and to the south (Fontaine).28 The
lands given by Adroald were very scattered, and St Bertin and his successors
took great care to enlarge and rationalize Sithiu’s landed assets by
exchanging, buying and receiving pieces of land throughout the region.29
Most of these lands were located in the neighborhood of Sithiu and a bit
further away, in the regions of Boulogne, Montreuil and Douai.30 Some of the
purchased lands were, however, located at a fair distance: Appily and Dives,
near Compiègnes, Beveren (Limburg, Belgium).31
With time, the number of monks increased as steadily as the landholding.
The Vita Winnoci (VW1) for example, tells us of the arrival at Sithiu of four
24 Diplomata Belgica ante Annum Millesimum Centesimum Scripta, ed. M. Gysseling and
A. C. F. Koch, 2 vols. (Brussels, 1950), I, no. 1, p. 6.
25 Below, Chapter 3, pp. 55–6.
26 The Annales Blandinienses, p. 4, give 640 as foundation year; these eleventh-century
annals are partly based on a lost set of ninth-century annals from Sithiu: Ph.
Grierson, Les Annales, p. XVI.
27 Diplomata Belgica I, p. 6 no. 1.
28 J.-F. Lemarignier, ‘Quelques remarques sur l’organisation ecclésiastique de la Gaule
du VIIe à la fin du IXe siècle, principalement au nord de la Loire’, in Agricoltura e
Mondo Rurale in Occidente nell’ Alto Medioevo, Settimane 13 (Spoleto, 1966), pp. 451–86
(pp. 465–6); for a detailed account on Sithiu’s landholding, see P. Wacksman’s
unpublished dissertation, ‘Histoire des dépendances de l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin du
VIIe à la fin du Xe siècle’, summarized in Positions des thèses de l’École des Chartes
(Paris, 1960), pp. 103–6.
29 Diplomata Belgica I, nos. 1–33, pp. 5–56; Lemarignier, ‘Quelques remarques’, pp.
465–8; on the meaning and evolution of the scattering of monastic landholding, see L.
Musset, ‘Signification et destinée des domaines excentriques pour les abbayes de la
moitié septentrionale de la Gaule jusqu’au XIe siècle’, in Sous la règle de Saint Benoît.
Structures monastiques et sociétés en France du moyen âge à l’époque moderne. Abbaye
bénédictine Saint-Marie de Paris 23–25 octobre 1980 (Geneva, 1982), pp. 167–84. On
Saint-Bertin’s royal diplomas, see C. Brühl, Studien zu den merovingischen Könings-
urkunden (Cologne, 1998), pp. 226–59; T. Közler, Merovingerstudien I, MGH, Studien
und Texte 21 (Hanover, 1998), pp. 111–35).
30 Diplomata Belgica I, no. 8, pp. 20–1, a. 704; no. 13, pp. 27–9, a. 723; no. 19, pp. 38–9, a.
788. Diplomata Belgica I, no. 18, pp. 37–8, a. 776; no. 13, pp. 27–9, a. 723; no. 21, pp. 40–1.
31 Diplomata Belgica I, no. 9, pp. 21–2, a. 708; no. 22, pp. 42–3, a. 806.
23
Saint-Bertin
24
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
25
Saint-Bertin
Omer’s church was the main burial place for the bishops of Thérouanne,
though some were not buried there. For example, Bishop Folcuin (815–855)
was buried in St Bertin’s church, at the right side of the holy abbot.44 After
Bertin’s death, the links between the bishopric of Thérouanne and the monas-
tery of Sithiu must have remained strong, since several abbots of Sithiu
became bishops: in the eighth century, Erkembod (c. 717–743, bishop c. 723),
whose shrine is still venerated today in Saint-Omer’s cathedral; in the ninth
century, Bishop Humfrid (855–870) became abbot of Saint-Bertin (864–866); in
the tenth century, Wicfridus, praepositus of Saint-Bertin, became bishop of
Thérouanne (935–959).45
During its first century, the abbey of Sithiu grew from an isolated and
slightly eccentric monastic foundation in a newly founded bishopric into an
important regional religious center. Its first abbots massively expanded its
landholding and played their part in the strengthening of Christianity in the
region. However, it was only during the Carolingian period that Sithiu
would truly become a major monastic center. It was after Bertin’s death and
his burial in St Martin’s church, that the monastic community of Sithiu
progressively took the shape it would keep for the next centuries: on the
lower part of the villa, on the bank of the Aa, was the abbatial church, with
the shrine of St Bertin. On the upper part of the villa, on the top of the hill
dominating the landscape, was Saint-Mary basilica, shrine of St Omer and
burial church for many bishops of Thérouanne after him.46
The role of Sithiu in the turmoil of the first half of the eighth century does not
appear clearly in the sources. It was to Sithiu that the last Merovingian king,
Childeric III (743–751), was exiled by Pippin III, where he remained until his
death in 755. According to Folcuin, the former king was buried in ‘beati
Bertini ecclesia’.47 Although Childeric’s burial at Saint-Bertin cannot be taken
for granted, his exile to Sithiu shows that the abbot of Saint-Bertin at the time,
26
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
27
Saint-Bertin
(Paris, 1952), II, no. 430, pp. 458–63; on this charter, see R. van Caenegem, ‘Le
diplôme de Charles le Chauve pour l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin’, Revue d’Histoire du
Droit 31 (1963), 403–26.
56 Hugh also became Louis’ chancellor in 834: Fleckenstein, Die Hofkapelle, I, pp. 83–4.
57 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 58, p. 618 and idem, Vita Folquini Episcopi Morinensis (BHL 3079), ed.
O. Holder-Egger, MGH SS 151, c. 7, p. 428; on Adalard and his family, see Favre, ‘La
famille d’Évrard’, p. 244.
58 Le polyptyque de Saint-Bertin (844–859). Édition critique et commentaire, ed. F.-L.
Ganshof (Paris, 1975); on this polyptych, see E. Renard, ‘Lectures et relectures d’un
polyptyque carolingien (Saint-Bertin, 844–859)’, RHE 94 (1999), 373–435; and Y.
Morimoto, ‘Problèmes autour du polyptyque de Saint-Bertin (844–859)’, in Le Grand
Domaine aux époques mérovingienne et carolingienne. Actes du Colloque International
(Gand 8–10 septembre 1983), ed. A. Verhulst (Ghent, 1985), pp. 125–51.
59 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 64, p. 619.
60 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 67, p. 620.
61 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 69, p. 621.
62 F. Lot, ‘De quelques personnages du IXe siècle qui ont porté le prénom de Hilduin’,
in Recueil des Travaux Historiques (Paris, 1970), pp. 461–94.
28
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
Folcuin writes that Hilduin had left the party of Lothar II for Charles, prob-
ably disillusioned by Lothar’s inability to offer him any interesting position.63
In 870, Charles tried once again to make him bishop of Cologne, but Hilduin
was not meant to be bishop, and he was supplanted by Louis the German’s
candidate.64 Nevertheless, he became librarian to Charles the Bald,65 and was
obviously a close and secure ally of the king, who entrusted him with his
pregnant wife Richildis before the battle of Andernach.66 Despite the venality
of the transaction which made Hilduin abbot of Sithiu, Folcuin has only good
things to write about him. It is true that he was generous to his abbey, to
which he bequeathed a pallium and a cappa of great value.67 Furthermore, he
had obtained from his king lands for the mensa fratrum,68 the right for the
monks to hold a market every Friday,69 as well as the right to choose their
dean and other dignitaries, with the approval of the abbot.70 At his death in
877, he was buried with honor at Sithiu, beside St Bertin himself.
Hilduin’s successor was the Canon Fulk (878–882, 892–900). During his
first abbacy, he attempted to organize the defense of Saint-Bertin by building
castelli around the monastery; however, the work could not be completed,
and Saint-Bertin was set on fire by vikings in 878. In 882, at the death of
Hincmar, Fulk became archbishop of Reims and left Saint-Bertin, only to
come back ten years later.71
During Fulk’s ‘sabbatical’ leave, the Unroching Ralph (883–892), son of
Evrard of Friuli and nephew of Abbot Adalard, ruled Saint-Bertin. There has
been some discussion about the status of Ralph, who had long been thought
to bear the title of count, presumably of Ternois. Philip Grierson has demon-
strated that no contemporary source mentions him as count, and he believes
that Ralph was originally an ecclesiastic – at the death of his uncle Adalard
(d. 864), he became abbot of Cysoing, an abbey founded by his father
Evrard.72 Indeed, according to the Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium, Baldwin II was
the first layman to rule the abbey. Unfortunately, Folcuin provides few
details about Ralph; he does not even mention his family links with Abbot
63 In the mid-860s, other Lotharingian clerics joined Charles in the hope of getting
better advancement: J. Nelson, Charles the Bald (London, 1992), p. 217 and n. 143.
64 Lot, ‘De quelques personnages du IXe siècle’, p. 466.
65 Diplomata Belgica I, n. 41, p. 73.
66 Annales Bertiniani, ed. F. Grat, J. Vieillard and S. Clémencet, Les Annales de Saint-
Bertin (Paris, 1964), 876, pp. 209–10.
67 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 85, p. 622.
68 Diplomata Belgica I, n. 45, pp. 78–9.
69 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 85, p. 622. Diplomata Belgica I, n. 38, pp. 69–70; n. 39, pp. 71–2; n. 41,
pp. 73–4; n. 43, pp. 75–6; n. 44, pp. 76–8 and n. 45, pp. 78–9.
70 Diplomata Belgica I, n. 44, pp. 76–8.
71 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 88, pp. 622–3.
72 Flodoard, Historia Remensis Ecclesiae, ed. M. Stratmann, MGH SS 36 (Hanover, 1998),
lib. IV, c. 1, p. 371.
29
Saint-Bertin
Adalard and Count Unroch. In 890, Ralph invited the famous scholar
Hucbald of Saint-Amand to complete his education; in exchange, Hucbald
was given the villa of Itancourt and a community of prayer was instituted
between Saint-Bertin and Saint-Amand.73
In 863, Baldwin I, who already controlled some of the northern pagi of the
future county of Flanders, received Ternois and the lay abbacy of Saint Peter
at Ghent from Charles the Bald.74 With Ternois, also came Saint-Bertin.
Baldwin was buried there, which shows the importance of the abbey at that
early stage in the history of the county. His son, Baldwin II (879–918) had to
reconquer his father’s territories. He did so easily for the northern pagi (Flan-
ders, Mempisc, Waas, Ghent, Courtrai). However, the southern pagi, Ternois
and Boulonais, which his father had once controlled, and Artois, Vermandois
and Ostrevant, which he coveted, were still under the control of the king or
other local potentates, such as the counts of Ternois and Ostrevant.75
Baldwin II was related to Abbot Ralph by marriage and both were related
to the Carolingian king. Therefore, together with Archbishop Fulk, they were
natural allies against King Odo’s coup (888–898), and the three men were
among those who invited Arnulf, king of Eastern Francia, to seize power in
the Western kingdom. Taking advantage of Ralph’s death, Baldwin
conquered Artois, Ternois and their abbeys (Saint-Vaast in 892 and Saint-
Bertin in 900). He eventually lost Artois in 899, but managed to maintain a
firm grip on the regions of Ternois, Boulonais and Tournaisis and on the lay
abbacy of Saint-Bertin, after he had Fulk murdered. Unsurprisingly, Baldwin
II, who had a very bad reputation in Saint-Bertin’s historiography, was
extremely unpopular with the monks. They even renounced Saint-Bertin’s
nascent status as comital burial place rather than allowing Baldwin and his
wife Ælfthryth to be put in their cemetery. At Baldwin’s death, Ælfthryth had
asked the monks of Saint-Bertin to bury her with her husband. They claimed,
however, that no woman, even a dead one, could enter the precinct of the
monastery, so Ælfthryth eventually buried her husband at Saint-Peter at
Ghent, which became the comital mausoleum.76
73 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 94, p. 623, and Diplomata Belgica I, n. 48, pp. 82–3. That Ralph needed
to be taught by Hucbald eight years after receiving the abbey suggests that he may
not have been raised as a churchman.
74 Ganshof, La Flandre, p. 15.
75 Ganshof, La Flandre, pp. 18–19; there was a Count Unroch at Charlemagne’s court,
who signed his testament (Einhard, Vita Karoli, ed. O. Holder-Egger, MGH SRG
(Hanover, 1911), p. 41) and a Count Unroch was sent on a diplomatic mission to the
Danes by Louis the Pious (Annales Regni Francorum, a. 811, p. 134).
76 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 103 and c. 106, p. 627.
30
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
From his marriage with Ælfthryth, daughter of Alfred the Great, Baldwin
II had two sons, Arnulf and Adalulf. At his death in 918, his younger son
Adalulf inherited the regions of Ternois and Boulonais, including the abbey
of Saint-Bertin, while the elder one, Arnulf, received all the other counties.77
At Adalulf’s death in 933, Arnulf seized his brother’s possessions, including
the lay abbacy of Saint-Bertin, although Adalulf had two sons, who should
have legitimately inherited.78 During his reign Arnulf consolidated his
control over the territories conquered by his father and extended them south-
ward. In 932, he conquered the Ostrevant, with Saint-Amand and Douai, and
the next year, Artois, with the abbey of Saint-Vaast. Later on, in 948, he took
over Montreuil and a part of the Ponthieu, following the murder of William
Longsword (942).79 Arnulf’s conquests made him the lay abbot of five impor-
tant and extremely wealthy abbeys: Saint-Bertin, Saint-Vaast, Saint-Amand
and Saint-Peter and Saint-Bavo at Ghent, increasing his wealth as well as his
power. For better and for worse, he exerted his authority over his abbeys
with a firm grip. At Saint-Bertin, he ‘convinced’ the monks to transgress the
interdict forbidding any woman to enter the precinct of the abbatial church,
and they allowed his ailing wife Adala to pray over St Bertin’s altar. The
monks’ complaisance earned the community Arnulf’s and Adala’s gratitude
and the fisc of Mercq-Saint-Liévin and its appurtenances.80
Arnulf’s most profound impact on Saint-Bertin was the Benedictine resto-
ration he imposed with his friend and ally, Gerard of Brogne. Arnulf and
Gerard had already restored the Rule at Saint-Peter at Ghent, where Gerard
was made abbot.81 Arnulf and Gerard proceeded in much the same way with
Saint-Bertin: on 15 April 944, Arnulf entrusted Sithiu to Gerard, expecting
him to restore the Benedictine rule. The reformer was not, however, unani-
mously welcomed by the community, and a number of monks left Sithiu;
some took refuge in the villa of Longuenesse and others eventually fled to
England. They were welcomed by King Æthelstan, who hosted them in the
monastery of Bath.82 The monks who did not leave for England eventually
returned to Saint-Bertin. The period following Gerard’s reform was tumul-
tuous and five abbots succeeded one another within a period of ten years.
31
Saint-Bertin
Gerard, who was already abbot of Saint-Peter at Ghent could not properly
rule Saint-Bertin at the same time, and Arnulf requested that the monastery
be ruled by Agilo, a monk of Toul, and Womar, a monk of Saint-Peter at
Ghent– although neither received the title of abbot. At Agilo’s death (c. 947),
Gerard imposed his nephew Wido as abbot; but the young man was soon
removed by the count ‘because he preferred the pleasures of life to the
austerity of abbatial duties’.83 Womar remained alone to rule Saint-Bertin,
still without the abbatial title. This situation was short lived, since Arnulf
soon gave the abbacy to his own nephew, Hildebrand. Hildebrand was
consecrated by the bishop of Thérouanne in 950, and the ceremony was the
occasion for Arnulf to give back to the community the villa of Arques, one of
the main villae of the abbatial mensa, and one which Arnulf had inherited
from his father when given the title of abbot.84
Despite all this trouble, Abbot Hildebrand’s reform was successful – the
monks who remained after 944 were probably the most motivated ones, and
Gerard himself came to Sithiu with his own companions, all of whom came
from different monasteries. In view of Hildebrand’s success, Arnulf decided
to send him to reform his other abbey of Saint-Vaast. Busy with his new task,
Hildebrand asked Arnulf to designate another abbot. Hildebrand was thus
replaced by Regenold in 954.85 From this time on, the abbey was apparently
plagued by successive calamities. First, in 959, the sign of the cross began to
appear on people’s vestments, an event that was ended only when the relics
of St Bertin and St Omer were brought together in the upper church and the
whole community – monks and canons together – paid them honor in a cer-
emony of unification.86 Soon after, the region was struck by an epidemic of
‘leprosy’ and abbot Regenold, infected, had to retire. The care of the commu-
nity was entrusted to the monk Adalulf, who was, however, not granted the
title of abbot – the community had chosen him, but the count refused to
ordain him.87 Adalulf had been given to Saint-Bertin as an oblate some time
before 938 by his father Evrard, who was the advocate of the abbey, and his
mother Riksind, a daughter of Baldwin II.88 It is interesting to note that
Adalulf was among the monks who left Sithiu at the beginning of Gerard’s
reform and came back after some time.89 If Arnulf did not want to make
Adalulf abbot, it was because he had in mind giving the abbacy back to
Hildebrand. At this point, in 961, Adalulf was opportunely sent to England
32
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
with presents for King Edgar, who had just become king of the West Saxons.
In 962, another misfortune struck the count with the death of his son, Baldwin
III. At about the same time, Adalulf came back from England and began once
again to worry over the election of a new abbot. At this point, Arnulf called
Hildebrand back and gave him the abbacy.90
The Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium ends in 962 with Hildebrand’s reinstate-
ment; the continuation of Folcuin’s Gesta by Simon begins in 1021 with the
abbacy of Roderic (1021–1042).91 Simon, who wrote in the twelfth century,
explains in his introduction that nothing was written about the six abbots
between Adalulf and Roderic. Simon had seen a catalogue of the abbots of
Sithiu (‘Adalolfi, qui in cathalogo ponitur xxvi’).92 The catalogue mentioned
by Simon has disappeared, but the Liber Floridus, written in 1120 by Lambert
of Saint-Omer, contains several lists: prelates who ruled both Saint-Bertin and
Saint-Omer, deans (praepositus) of Saint-Omer and abbots of Saint-Bertin.93
The list containing the abbots has Bernoldus (Regenold?) as twenty-sixth
abbot and does not mention Adalulf – thus following the Gesta Abbatum
Sithiensium. After Bernoldus came Baldwin Pulcher count and abbot, Arnulf
count and abbot, Walter, Trudgand, Odbert and Humfrid. The identities of
Baldwin Pulcher and Arnulf are not clear; Arnulf the Great’s son, Baldwin III
died in 962 and nowhere does Folcuin suggest that Arnulf had given him the
lay abbacy of Saint-Bertin. The only other known Baldwin whose dates could
match this Baldwin is Baldwin Baldzo, who was the guardian of his nephew
Arnulf II during his infancy. During the interregnum, Ternois and Boulonais
were given back to the descendants of Adalulf, and Baldwin may have
received the abbacy of Saint-Bertin on this occasion. The ‘Arnulf count and
abbot’ found in the Liber Floridus could be Arnulf II, but northern Ternois,
and with it the abbey of Saint-Bertin, remained outside the count of Flanders’
control until Baldwin IV (988–1035). Therefore, our Arnulf could be Adalulf’s
son, legitimate heir of Boulonais and Ternois.94 The next abbot in Lambert’s
catalogue is Walter, whose dates are uncertain, but Folcuin dedicated to him
his vita of Folcuin of Thérouanne, which he wrote when he was abbot of
Lobbes (968–990), and a charter dated 975 mentions him as abbot.95 While his
33
Saint-Bertin
a leaden plate inscribed with the date of Walter’s death (984) and the length of his
abbacy (twenty years); however, the excavation of Saint-Bertin was so poorly
performed and recorded that it is perilous to trust de Laplane’s descriptions of what
was found.
96 On book production during Odbert’s abbacy, see below, Chapter 2, pp. 46–49; his
name as abbot appears for the first time in a charter dated 993 (Haigneré, Les chartes
de Saint-Bertin, p. 21, no. 64) and in several miracles (AA SS, 2 Sept., pp. 624–8).
97 Memorials of Saint Dunstan, Archbishop of Canterbury, ed. W. Stubbs, Rolls Series 63
(London, 1874, pp. 384–5 and 388–9. A new edition is to be published: S. Vander-
putten, ‘Canterbury and Flanders in the Late Tenth Century’, in Anglo Saxon Studies
(2005). I thank the author, who has kindly given me his manuscript.
98 Memorial of Saint Dunstan, p. 389.
99 Memorial of Saint Dunstan, p. 388.
100 Below, p. 47.
101 Simon, Gesta, c. 1, p. 636.
34
From the Foundation to the Eleventh Century
102 On the circumstances which led Baldwin to restore Saint-Bertin, see van Meter,
‘Count Baldwin IV’.
103 Simon, Gesta, c. 1, p. 636.
104 Roderic ruled Saint-Winnoc for seven years, after which he entrusted the commu-
nity to a monk of Saint-Bertin; see Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin, ed. B.
Guérard, Collection de Documents pour Servir à l’Histoire de France (Paris, 1840), c.
9, p. 178 (this chapter is not in the MGH edition).
105 Simon, Gesta, cc. 2–5, pp. 636–7.
106 See Simon, Gesta, c. 6, pp. 637–8; for the text of the bishop’s charter, see Cartulaire de
l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin, part 2, c. 7, pp. 175–6.
107 On this occasion, the relics of St Omer and St Bertin were placed on a boat which had
previously been blessed by Drogo of Thérouanne; then the boat moved along the Aa
around Sithiu in order to distinguish the area under the undisputed control of the
community: Simon, Gesta, c. 13, pp. 638–9; for the count’s charter, see Cartulaire de
l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin, part 2, c. 14, pp. 184–7.
108 For example, at the time of Abbot Heribert (1065–1081) a man named Bodora had
alienated the villa of Caumont, which was regained thanks to St Bertin: see Simon,
Gesta, c. 19, p. 640, and Herbert’s confirmation charter, in Cartulaire de l’abbaye de
Saint-Bertin, part 2, c. 20, pp. 194–6; at the time of Abbot John (1081–1095), Count
Robert had to help the abbey recover a pond which had been usurped, see Simon,
Gesta, c. 32, p. 642; see also AA SS, 2 Sept., pp. 628–9.
35
Saint-Bertin
Roderic had hastily repaired the main church, but by the time of his
successor, Abbot Bovo (1042–1065), it was already crumbling. Bovo under-
took an ambitious operation of reconstruction and enlargement of the
abbatial church, during which the relics of St Bertin were re-discovered.
There is no doubt that Bovo was hoping that the inventio would stimulate St
Bertin’s cult and would entice the local faithful to make offerings. It does not
appear, however, that the revenues of the community were significantly
augmented, and because of lack of money or time, Bovo was unable to finish
his ambitious project. Bovo’s successor, Heribert (1065–1081), almost finished
the work, but before the roof was completed, the church burnt down once
again.109 Only in the abbacies of John (1081–1095) and Lambert (1095–1125)
was the reconstruction resumed and completed: the new buildings were
consecrated in 1106 by the bishop of Thérouanne.110
36
CHAPTER TWO
Introduction
1 On the role of Carolingian patronage in the production of manuscripts and the exten-
sion of literary culture throughout the Frankish kingdoms, see R. McKitterick,
‘Charles the Bald (823–877) and his Library: The Patronage of Learning’, English
Historical Review 95 (1980), 28–47, and idem, ‘Carolingian Book Production: Some
Problems’, The Library 6th series, 12 (1990), 1–33.
2 On these authors’ contribution to biographical and hagiographic writing in England,
see E. van Houts, ‘The Flemish Contribution to Biographical Writing in the Eleventh
Century’, in The Limits of Medieval Biography: Essays in Honor of Professor Frank Barlow,
ed. D. Bates, J. Crick and S. Hamilton (Woodbridge, forthcoming). On Grimbald, see
P. Grierson, ‘Grimbald of St. Bertin’s’, English Historical Review 55 (1940), 529–61; J.
Bately, ‘Grimbald of St. Bertin’s’, Medium Aevum 35 (1966), 1–10; and Asser’s Life of
King Alfred and Other Contemporary Sources, ed. and trans. S. Keynes and M. Lapidge
(London, 1983); on Goscelin, see the appendix to The Life of King Edward who Rests at
Westminster, ed. and trans. F. Barlow (Oxford, 1992), pp. 133–49; R. Sharpe,
‘Goscelin’s St. Augustine and St. Mildreth: Hagiography and Liturgy in Context’,
Journal of Theological Studies new series, 41 (1990), 502–16; and S. Millinger, ‘Humility
and Power: Anglo-Saxon Nuns in Anglo-Norman Hagiography’, in Medieval Reli-
gious Women, ed. J. A. Nichols and L. T. Shank, vol. 1: Distant Echoes, Cistercian
Studies Series 71 (Kalamazoo, 1984), pp. 115–29; and T. J. Hamilton, ‘Goscelin of
Canterbury: A Critical Study of his Life, Works and Accomplishments’, 2 vols.
(unpublished Ph.D. thesis, University of Virginia, 1973).
37
Saint-Bertin
contacts were not only documented in the written sources from Saint-Bertin,
but they are also very visible in the surviving manuscripts from the commu-
nity’s library and by its artistic production. Most of the oldest manuscripts
(before 800) which have survived were written or annotated by insular
hands. In the second half of the ninth century, the scriptorium produced a
series of manuscripts in the Franco-Saxon style, a Continental style that origi-
nated in Flanders (at Saint-Amand and Saint-Vaast) and was characterized by
its strong insular overtones. Finally, during Odbert’s abbacy, the Anglo-
Saxon artists who visited Saint-Bertin and painted some of Odbert’s manu-
scripts were extremely influential on Odbert himself and on later artistic
production at Saint-Bertin.
The library
38
Cultural Life
5 The library and scriptorium of Corbie have been studied extensively: D. Ganz, Corbie
in the Carolingian Renaissance, Beihefte der Francia 20 (Sigmaringen, 1990); R.
McKitterick has already given some results from her study on Saint-Amand: The
Frankish Kingdoms, pp. 207–10, ‘Charles the Bald (823–877) and his Library’,
‘Carolingian Book Production’.
6 On the issue of regional and local style in manuscript production, see McKitterick,
‘Carolingian Book Production’; on Carolingian manuscripts and libraries, see also
the articles in B. Bischoff, Manuscripts and Libraries in the Age of Charlemagne, ed. and
trans. M. Gorman, Cambridge Studies in Palaeography and Codicology 1 (Cam-
bridge, 1994).
7 CLA VI: France.
8 BSM, MS 32; CLA VI, 735; the Anglo-Saxon marginalia are on fols. 61, 61v and 62.
9 BSM, MS 27 (fragment on the back cover) and S-O, MS 150 (fragments, fols. 3, 6, 7, 10,
11, 14, 15); CLA VI, 734.
10 KBR, MS 8654–72, fols. 1 and 208; CLA X, 1542.
11 BSM, MS 58; CLA VI, 737; T. J. Brown has pointed to the paleographical similarities
between MS 58 and MS 74, and has suggested that the manuscript dates from the
beginning of the eighth century; see P. Sims-Williams, ‘An Unpublished Seventh- or
Eighth-Century Anglo-Latin Letter in Boulogne-sur-Mer MS 74 (82)’, Medium Aevum
48 (1979), 1–22 (pp. 1–2).
12 S-O, MS 279 (fols. 1–2); CLA VI, 827
39
Saint-Bertin
13 BSM, MS 74; CLA VI, 738; on these two manuscripts, see Sims-Williams, ‘An Unpub-
lished Seventh- or Eighth-Century Anglo-Latin Letter’.
14 S-O, MS 257, fols. 1–7; CLA VI, 826.
15 S-O, MS 342bis; CLA VI, 828.
16 On cultural relations between England and the Continent, see V. Ortenberg, The
English Church and the Continent in the Tenth and Eleventh Centuries: Cultural, Spiritual
and Artistic Exchanges (Oxford, 1992) and W. Levison, England and the Continent in the
Eighth Century (Oxford, 1946); on their impact on manuscript production, see R.
McKitterick, ‘The Scriptoria of Merovingian Gaul: A Survey of the Evidence’, in
Columbanus and Merovingian Monasticism, pp. 173–207; idem, ‘The Diffusion of Insular
Culture in Neustria between 650 and 850: The Implications of the Manuscript
Evidence’, in La Neustrie II, pp. 395–432; idem, ‘Anglo-Saxon Missionaires in
Germany: Reflections on the Manuscript Evidence’, Transactions of the Cambridge
Bibliographical Society 60 (1989), 291–329; for a specific example, see N. Netzer,
Cultural Interplay in the Eighth Century: The Trier Gospels and the Making of a Scriptorium
40
Cultural Life
41
Saint-Bertin
and merchants. This is why it is often suggested that the oldest Anglo-Saxon
manuscripts in the library had been brought to Saint-Bertin by tenth- or elev-
enth-century visitors.20 Nevertheless, it cannot be ruled out that at least of
some of the ancient manuscripts, especially those which were inserted as
fragments in ninth- or tenth-century books, belong to the early period of the
library.
20 On relations between Saint-Bertin (and Flanders in general) and England, see Ph.
Grierson, ‘The Relations between England and Flanders before the Norman
Conquest’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 4th series, 23 (1941), 71–112;
Sims-Williams suggests that the Bath manuscripts (BSM, MSS 58 and 74) could have
reached Saint-Bertin as late as the tenth or eleventh century (‘An Unpublished
Anglo-Latin Letter’, p. 4), but there is no way to solve the problem.
21 BSM, MS 51 (IX).
22 S-O, MS 268 (X).
23 BSM, MSS 48, 52, 60; S-O, MS 254 (IX) and 254 (X).
24 BSM, MS 35 (IX).
25 S-O, MS 72 (IX2).
26 S-O, MS 15 (IX1).
27 S-O, MS 33bis (IX).
28 S-O, MS 279 (IX).
29 BSM, MS 40 (X).
30 BSM, MS 16bis (IX1).
31 BSM, MS 18 (IX2, Corbie).
32 S-O, MS 91 (IX1).
33 BSM, MS 25 and S-O, MS 257 (X).
34 S-O, MS 666 (X).
35 S-O, MS 306 (X).
42
Cultural Life
The catalogue
The catalogue of Saint-Bertin’s library contains 305 titles, sorted in approxi-
mate alphabetical order.38 Its first publisher, Dom Berthod, had seen the cata-
logue in a manuscript containing an appendix to Simon’s Gesta Abbatum.
Berthod asserted that the catalogue dated from 1104.39 Unfortunately, the
manuscript and the catalogue have disappeared, and with them any possi-
bility for a new assessment. Nevertheless, its content gives credibility to the
date.40 In the catalogue, as well as in the collection of surviving manuscripts,
the Church Fathers, led by Augustine, prevail. Historical works stand in a
good position too: Orosius’s Universal History, Bede’s Historia Ecclesiastica
(gesta Anglorum), Gregory of Tours’ Historia Francorum (gesta Francorum), Paul
the Deacon’s Historia Langobardorum (gesta Langobardorum), the Gesta
Romanorum Pontificum, the Historia Tripartita, Josephus’s History of the Jewish
Wars, and a Fabula et excidium Troiae. The catalogue – which also mentions a
Rule of St Benedict, the Lex Salica, the Justinian code and more Carolingian
works (by Alcuin, Paschasius Radbert, Smaragdus) – completes our vision of
Saint-Bertin’s medieval library.
36 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 46, p. 614; the Visio Wettini was composed in 827 by Walahfrid
Strabo, then a monk at Fulda. Walahfrid Strabo, Visio Wettini, ed. H. Knittel
(Sigmaringen, 1986); see P. Godman, Poets and Emperors: Frankish Politics and
Carolingian Poetry (Oxford, 1987), pp. 130–4.
37 S. Vanderputten, ‘ “Literate Memory” and Social Reassessment in Tenth-Century
Monasticism’, in Mediaevistik (forthcoming).
38 Becker, Catalogi Bibliothecarum, pp. 181–4.
39 A. Berthod, ‘Notice du cartulaire de Simon, manuscrit de la bibliothèque de
Saint-Bertin’, Mémoires de l’Académie Impériale et Royale des Sciences et Belles Lettres de
Bruxelles 5 (1788), 227–30.
40 E. Lesne, Histoire de la propriété ecclésiastique en France, 4 vols. (Lille, 1909–1938), IV:
Les Livres. ‘Scriptoria’ et bibliothèques (Lille, 1938), pp. 628–35.
43
Saint-Bertin
The scriptorium
We have seen that Saint-Bertin’s oldest manuscripts came from the British
Isles and Italy; there is no evidence that there was an active scriptorium at
Saint-Bertin in pre-Carolingian times. The first reference to the fabrication of
books by the monks themselves is found in a royal diploma of 800 in which
Charlemagne granted the abbot and the monks of Sithiu hunting rights in the
monastery’s woods. The diploma specifies that the monks use the skins of
wild beasts to make gloves and book covers (‘ad volumina librorum
tegenda’).41 Book production, especially of upper grade books, does not seem
to have been steady or continuous, and different periods of activity can be
determined. The first one corresponds to the abbacy of Fridugis (820–834).
The second one takes place in the second half of the ninth century, when a
series of de luxe manuscripts illuminated in the Franco-Saxon style was
produced for export. The last period that I will examine here corresponds to
the abbacy of Odbert (c. 986–1007).
41 Diplomata Belgica I, no. 20, pp. 39–40; hunting rights were confirmed again by Louis
the Pious in 820 (Diplomata Belgica I, no. 25, pp. 46–7).
42 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 52, p. 615: ‘Indeed, thanks to his zeal, he restored the libraries of his
monastery, which had been destroyed by the decay of their pens, because the art of
writing had perished.’ On Guntbert: G. Coolen, ‘Guntbert de Saint-Bertin,
Chronique des temps carolingiens’, Revue du Nord 40 (1958) (Mélanges Dédiés à la
Mémoire de Raymond Monier), 213–24.
43 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 52, p. 615.
44 BSM, MS 44.
44
Cultural Life
flourishing scriptorium; during his abbacy, not only did the scriptorium
maintain its high quality production, but it also introduced artistic innova-
tions.45 The antiphonaries and the computus written by Guntbert have unfor-
tunately disappeared, but some of the other manuscripts produced by his
workshop may still survive.
The second discernible period of book production at Sithiu takes place in
the second half of the ninth century and is represented by six de luxe manu-
scripts, richly decorated in the so-called Franco-Saxon style, which was char-
acteristic of northern French manuscript production. The Franco-Saxon style,
which was exclusively non-figurative, was essentially restricted to capitals,
illuminated with interlace and animal heads painted in bright colors. The
style, the result of the strong influence of Anglo-Saxon art on Carolingian
renaissance illumination, developed in the second half of the ninth century
and its earliest occurrence appears to have been at Saint-Amand.46 The
origins and process of the development of the style is not easy to unravel
since Carolingian illumination from the first half of the ninth century was
already heavily influenced by Anglo-Saxon manuscript production. It is not,
however, surprising that a style characterized by a mix of Anglo-Saxon and
Carolingian features originated in Flanders.
The starting point for the identification of this coherent group of manu-
scripts is Louis the German’s Psalter, now in the Staatsbibliothek in Berlin.47
Dedicated to ‘Hludovico regi’ (fol. 1v), the psalter contains a litany in which
the names of St Bertin and St Omer are written in purple letters. The
emphasis on the patron saints of Sithiu is the basis for the attribution of the
psalter to this scriptorium. This argument is not above challenge, since many
scriptoria produced books for export, the litanies or calendars of which were
adapted to the recipient’s liturgical needs. Nevertheless, the paleographical
and artistic characteristics of the manuscripts from the group of Louis the
German’s Psalter set them apart from the production of other Franco-Saxon
scriptoria. Furthermore, some of these characteristics are found in the manu-
45 See for example, Basle, Universitätsbibliothek, A.N. I.3, and Stuttgart, Würtem-
bergische Landesbibliothek, HB.II.40, in Charlemagne. Oeuvre, rayonnement et
survivances. Catalogue de l’exposition d’Aix-La-Chapelle, 26 juin – 19 septembre 1965
(Aachen, 1965), nn. 486 and 487; on the Tours scriptorium, see E. K. Rand, A Survey of
the Manuscripts of Tours: Studies in the Script of Tours (Cambridge, 1929) and W.
Koehler, Karolingischen Miniaturen, 3 vols. (Berlin, 1930–1933), I: Die Schule von Tours.
46 On the origins of the Franco-Saxon style, see K. Nordenfalk, ‘Ein karolingische
Sakramentar aus Echternach und seine Vorlaüfer’, Acta Archaeologica 2 (1931),
207–44; C. R. Dodwell, The Pictorial Arts of the West: 800–1200 (New Haven, 1993), p.
74; on illumination at Saint-Amand, see A. Boutémy, ‘Le style franco-saxon, style de
Saint-Amand’, Scriptorium 3 (1949), 260–4, and J. Deshusses, ‘Chronologie des
grands sacramentaires de Saint-Amand’, RB 87 (1977), 230–7.
47 Berlin, Staatsbibliothek Preussischer Kulturbesitz, MS Theol. lat., fol. 58; see Charle-
magne. Oeuvre, rayonnement et survivances, n. 488, and F. Mütherich and J. Gaehde,
Karolingische Buchmalerei (Munich, 1976), p. 66, n. 17.
45
Saint-Bertin
scripts from Odbert’s workshop, which suggests that he had access to simi-
larly written and ornamented manuscripts in Saint-Bertin’s library. For these
reasons, the attribution of Louis’ Psalter to Saint-Bertin is a plausible one. On
paleographical and stylistic grounds, the Psalter has been dated from the
second half of the ninth century.48 This date rules out Louis the Pious as bene-
factor of the gift and implies, rather, that it was dedicated to Louis the
German. The manuscript may have been offered to Louis by Abbot Adalard
when he betrayed Charles the Bald in his favor in 859.49 Stylistic and
paleographical similarities link another psalter, now in the Wolfenbüttel
Library, to the Berlin psalter.50 To these two manuscripts, should be added
three Gospel books: one now in Prague,51 another in the Vatican library52 and
the Porrentruy Gospels,53 which are more simply decorated than the psalters.
That the scriptorium of Saint-Bertin produced such a coherent group of
manuscripts in a short period of time shows that the scriptorium created
manuscripts with a unified style of script and ornamentation. That all these
manuscripts appear to have left Saint-Bertin at an early date suggests that
they were produced for other communities or as high-status gifts.54
46
Cultural Life
and his workshop have been identified; they are recognizable thanks to their
script and their decoration, figurative or not. It appears that between the
group of Franco-Saxon manuscripts mentioned above and the time of Odbert,
the production of the scriptorium had been curtailed. It is not impossible that
manuscripts were still produced locally, but that they were neither decorated
nor produced in a unified and recognizable house-style during this time. But
the disappearance of manuscripts alone cannot be held responsible for the
absence of tenth-century books identifiable as Saint-Bertin products. When
Odbert and his team started to produce their own manuscripts, it is clear that
the models they had at hand at the library dated from the ninth century. The
most obvious example is the two copies made by Odbert of a manuscript of
Germanicus’s translation of Aratus’s Phenomena (IX2), now in Leiden.56 The
antiquity of Odbert’s models is also discernible through the many
paleographical archaisms of his manuscripts as well as in his decorated
initials, directly derived from the Franco-Saxon style which had flourished at
Saint-Bertin more than a century earlier. These artistic and paleographical
archaisms suggest not only that the production of the scriptorium remained
stagnant during the tenth century, but also that Saint-Bertin was isolated
from the artistic trends which had developed elsewhere (at Reims, Metz and
in England, for example). It could be suggested that Odbert’s copying of
ninth-century models was a deliberate choice, but his enthusiastic adoption,
once confronted with it, of the Winchester style of illumination, which was
flourishing in England at the time, shows his eagerness to adopt new models.
At least two artists, probably from Canterbury, worked on Odbert’s manu-
scripts. One of them added marginal illustrations in a psalter which had been
otherwise entirely decorated by Odbert.57 The other one painted all the deco-
ration and illustration of a Gospel book, now in Boulogne (BSM 11);58 this
painter is identified with the artist who drew the crucifixion in the
Winchester psalter and the Evangelist portraits in the Anhalt Morgan
Gospels from Saint-Vaast.59 Odbert tried to imitate the style of the Canter-
47
Saint-Bertin
bury artist; it is most visible in the Christ in Majesty in BSM 56 (fol. 35) which
mimics the corresponding image in BSM 11 (fol. 10). Odbert is also to be cred-
ited with the illuminations in the Pierpont Morgan Gospel, which is distinc-
tively Anglo-Saxon in style, and the painting of the manuscript containing
Bertin’s Vita Altera and other liturgical texts from Saint-Bertin.60 While the
figures in Odbert’s manuscripts were directly inspired by contemporary
English trends, especially the exuberant draperies, their strictly delimited
frames, derived from English manuscript style popular sixty years earlier,
remained severe and disciplined.61 Despite the fact that Odbert’s art was the
result of inspirations from the past (Franco-Saxon, Carolingian, older Anglo-
Saxon style) and the present (Winchester style), it was innovative in many
ways. His taste for historiated initials, which abound in many of his manu-
scripts, prefigures the Romanesque style; furthermore, the Boulogne psalter,
because of the Christological nature of twenty-four of its historiated initials,
figures as a precocious occurrence of the tradition of associating the life of
Christ with the text of the psalter, a practice that flourished from the eleventh
century onward.62
Unlike the group of luxurious Franco-Saxon manuscripts produced at
Saint-Bertin in the ninth century, the group of Odbert’s manuscripts was not
produced for export, since thirteen of the sixteen manuscripts remained at
Saint-Bertin until the French Revolution.63 Unfortunately this period of
artistic renaissance at Saint-Bertin corresponds to the source gap between the
Gesta of Folcuin and the Gesta of Simon; hence the manuscripts are the only
texts left from Odbert’s time. The absence of narrative sources could be
blamed on the fires which had consumed part of the building during
Odbert’s abbacy, and later, at the time of Roderic. If this were the case,
however, the archives before Odbert’s time, such as Folcuin’s Gesta, as well as
Odbert’s own books, would have been destroyed as well. It is most likely that
archives were simply not carefully kept between 962 and 1020. We have seen
that that period was politically troubled for Saint-Bertin and its region:
Arnulf the Great’s successor, Arnulf II, had lost control of Boulonnais and
Ternois, which were ceded to their legitimate heir, Arnulf, son of Arnulf I’s
brother, Adalulf. Eventually, Baldwin IV (988–1035) regained control of
northern Ternois and of Saint-Bertin; once Baldwin had re-conquered the
48
Cultural Life
64 S-O, MS 698; on this manuscript, see R. Argent Svoboda, ‘The Illustrations of the Life
of St. Omer (Saint-Omer, Bibliothèque Municipale, Ms. 698)’ (unpublished Ph.D.
thesis, University of Minnesota, 1983).
49
CHAPTER THREE
Introduction
50
Narrative Production
was self-serving and written for the author’s own rather than his commu-
nity’s promotion.
The analysis of these texts exemplifies how monastic communities
composed texts in order to answer situations of crises, to protect them against
their enemies or rivals, or to assert their own rights and power. If the text
fulfilled its mission, the community accepted it as a unifying document,
valued it as an asset and perpetuated its tradition through copying. If the text
did not achieve these goals, the chances are that it was rarely echoed in the
community’s later writings. Therefore, the examination of the narratives
produced by the monks of Saint-Bertin reveals much about their aspirations
and their needs as a community.
The main source for the origins and foundation of the monastery of Sithiu,
and the earliest, is the hagiographic triptych containing the vitae primae of St
Omer, St Bertin and St Winnoc. The three vitae were written in the ninth
century by the same author and were intended as a coherent group of texts.1
Indeed, the three lives were copied together one after the other in a
tenth-century manuscript.2 The vitae were also copied individually, since a
ninth-century copy of the Vita Audomari Prima (VA1) alone was reproduced in
a manuscript from the Corbie library.3 The triptych was probably written at
the very beginning of the ninth century – some time before 820.4
The VA1 relates the life of St Omer. Born in the region of Coutances, he
entered Luxeuil as an oblate during the abbacy of Eustasius. It was a former
monk of Luxeuil, Acharius of Noyon, who advised King Dagobert that he
should offer Omer the bishopric of Thérouanne.5 After some time, Omer
called to his side three of his countrymen, Mummolinus, Ebertramn and
Bertin, with whom he decided to found a monastery on the villa of Sithiu,
1 For the shared authorship of the three vitae, see L. van der Essen, Étude Critique, pp.
402–3. There are other such cases of vitae of distinct saints grouped into a single text:
J. van der Straeten, ‘Les actes des martyrs d’Aurélien en Bourgogne’, Analecta
Bollandiana 79 (1961), 115–44 and 447–68, and ‘Actes des martyrs d’Aurélien en
Gaule’, Analecta Bollandiana 80 (1962), 116–41.
2 KBR, MS 8318–8320; the origin of the manuscript, which had belonged to the Jesuit
community of Molsheim in Alsace, is unknown; it also contains vitae of other saints
related to Columbanian monasticism.
3 Leningrad, Lat. F v I 12, fols. 99–106; VA1, copied in cursive minuscule, was bound in
the ninth century with other vitae (Dionysius, Fulgentius, Marcellinus, Apollinaris,
and Germanus) of different dates and origins; see Ganz, Corbie, pp. 47, 135 and 155.
4 On the date of the triple vita, see Levison, Vitae Audomari, Bertini, Winnoci, p. 731, and
L. van der Essen, Étude critique et littéraire sur les vitae des saints mérovingiens de
l’Ancienne Belgique (Louvain, 1907), pp. 403–5.
5 VA1, cc. 1–4, pp. 754–6.
51
Saint-Bertin
which had been given to him by Adroald, a man he had converted and
baptized.6 Mummolinus, Ebertramn and Bertin founded a first monastery,
the Vetus Monasterium; however, after some time, they left the place and
undertook a miraculous journey which led them to the location of what
would eventually become the abbey of Saint-Bertin.7 Mummolinus was then
appointed as abbot by Omer, but was replaced by Bertin when Mummolinus
succeeded St Eligius (d. 660) as bishop of Noyon.8 The VA1 ends with the
death of St Omer, his burial in Saint-Mary, which he had built on the upper
side of Sithiu before the arrival of Bertin and his companions, and a few mira-
cles performed at his shrine.9 While the VA1 contains a fair amount of
biographical material about St Omer, the life that follows it, the Vita Bertini
Prima (VB1), is only a succession of topoi, miracles performed by St Bertin
before and after his death, and biblical quotations.10 There is no allusion to
Rigobert and Erlefrid, who became abbots when Bertin, still alive but aging,
wanted to retire from his abbatial obligations. His death, feast day and burial
place are not mentioned either.11 The VB1 is directly followed by the Vita
Winnoci Prima (VW1),12 which relates the arrival of the Breton Winnoc and his
companions to Sithiu, and their foundation of a monastic community at
Wormhoudt, on a piece of land which had been offered to St Bertin by a
wealthy and pious landowner.13 In this hagiographic triptych, St Omer is
clearly the most important character in the cycle, not only because of the
prominence of his role in the foundation of Sithiu, but also because of the
relative abundance of biographical details that the author was able to gather
about him. As for St Bertin, he appears as a secondary character, whose biog-
raphy is scant and who played a lesser role. After all, he owed his later status
as patron saint of Sithiu to Mummolinus’s departure to Noyon. Indeed, it is
worth pointing out that whenever Omer’s three companions, Mummolinus,
Ebertramn and Bertin are mentioned together in the VA1, Bertin’ s name
always comes last.14 Omer’s seminal role in the foundation of Sithiu is
naturally reverberated in the hagiography intended for the community and
in turn, his prominence in the narrative, and Bertin’s relative subordination,
could also reflect the prominence of St Omer’s cult over St Bertin’s in the first
centuries of Sithiu’s existence.
52
Narrative Production
The relative silence about St Bertin, and his subordination to St Omer are
corrected in the second vitae of St Omer (VA2) and St Bertin (VB2). Like the
VA1 and VB1, the VB2 and VA2 were written by the same author, who closely
followed the text of the VA1 and VB1, and only added, removed or switched
parts of the narrative when it suited his purpose.15 A comparison between the
first and the second vitae of Omer and Bertin will highlight the second
author’s narrative technique.16 First, the author of the VA2 and VB2 has
switched the order of the first lives: the VB2 precedes the the VA2, while the
VA1 precedes the VB1.17 The VB2 is preceded by a long prologue in which the
author announces that he will write about Omer and Bertin while the VA2 has
only a brief prologue. The prologue of the VB2 is copied almost word for
word from the prologue of the VA1, save that the author inserted a line
emphasizing St Bertin’s possession of Sithiu:
Quia igitur sancti viri loca regiminis sui discreta habuerunt, honeste
gubernantes, sanctus videlicet Audomarus episcopatum tervennae; beatus
vero Bertinus coenobium suum proprium Sithiu . . .18
(Thus, the holy men had command over distinct places, ruling them honestly:
St Omer the episcopal see of Thérouanne; St Bertin, his own monastery of
Sithiu.)
The VB2 begins with the arrival of St Bertin and his two companions in the
bishopric of Thérouanne. This passage of the VB2 reverses the order of prece-
dence and places Bertin’s name in first position:
15 Vita S. Audomari Altera (VA2) (BHL 767), AA SS, 3 Sept., pp. 402–6. On the arguments
for a single authorship for VB2 and VA2, see Van der Essen, Étude critique, pp. 406–7.
On the several vitae of St Omer, see J. Van der Straeten, ‘Les vies métriques de saint
Omer’, Anal. Boll. 81 (1963), pp. 59–88. There is a verse version of VB2, which was
written roughly at the same time as the prose vita, since their earliest copies are found
in the same manuscript from Odbert’s scriptorium (BSM, MS 107): Vita Sancti Bertini
Metrica Prior (BHL 1292), ed. F. Morand, Mélanges Historiques 1 (1873), pp. 573–697
(Collection de Documents Inédits sur l’Histoire de France). Another of Odbert’s
manuscripts, the famous glossed psalter (BSM, MS 20), contains hymns to St Bertin:
P. Stotz, ‘Zwei bisher unbekannte Hymnen auf den heiligen Bertinus’, Mittel-
lateinisches Jahrbuch 24/25 (1989–1990), 489–505.
16 For a comparison between the two vitae, see also E. Spaey, ‘Over middeleeuwsche
heiligenliteratuur’, Ons Geestelijk Erf 3 (1929), 291–303.
17 VB2 has a very long prologue, in which the author announces that he will write about
both St Bertin and St Omer; VA2 has its own short prologue, but it seems that the long
one was intended to encompass the two texts.
18 VB2, p. 591.
53
Saint-Bertin
VA1:19 VB2:20
Post hoc non multo temporis intervallo ad Cum sanctus Audomarus episcopus
beatum Audomarum de predicta ecclesiam
Constantinense regione tres una cum Morinensem regeret, . . . tres una cum
mente viri, Mummolinus, Ebertramnus mente de patria propria, id est
sanctusque Bertinus . . . Constantinense ad eum venerunt; sanctus
videlicet Bertinus, Mummolinus,
Ebertramnus . . .
Shortly after that, from the region of As St Omer was ruling the Church of
Coutances, three men with one spirit Morinie, three men with one spirit joined
joined St Omer: Mummolin, Ebertramn him from his fatherland, Coutances: St
and Bertin. Bertin, Mummolin and Ebertramn.
Even more striking is the change in the story of the foundation of Sithiu made
in the narration of the donation by Adroald:
VA1:21 VB2:22
sanctus Audomarus cum predictis beatis Interea, quidam vir nobilis, . . . Adroaldus
viri . . . monasterium cogitavit . . . nomine, nullum habens filium, tractare
fundare; ad abitandum enim monachis cum beato Audomaro et praedictis Dei famuli
. . . locum abebat aptum. Erat enim cepit, qualiter possessionum suarum
quidam vir potens Adrowaldus nomine Ecclesiam heredem faceret. Quem beatus
. . . quem beatus Audomarus . . . ad fidem Audomarus, inspirante gratia Spiritus sancti,
convertit catholicam . . . Adrowaldus . . . hortatus est, ut sancto Bertino sociisque ejus
nec ullum habens filium, magnam suae . . . quaeque habere poterat, conferet, quatinus
hereditatis partem . . . beato obtulit ibidem coenobium in honore beati Petri . . .
Audomaro, villam quae noto nomine vocatur construendo.
Sithiu.
54
Narrative Production
the VB2 significantly changed the chronology of the events following the
donation. We have seen that in the VA1, the three men first settled in the
Vetus monasterium, which they left after a while, and eventually established
themselves on the small island of Sithiu; there, they founded a monastic
community over which Mummolinus became the first abbot.23 In the VB2, the
order of the events is remarkably different: as in the VA1, the three men first
founded the Vetus Monasterium, but soon after, Mummolinus succeeded
Acharius – in reality Eligius – as bishop of Noyon and Ebertramn was given
the abbacy of Saint-Quentin. Left by himself, Bertin alone undertook the
miraculous journey to the site of Sithiu and alone built a monastery dedicated
to St Peter.24 This new version of the story omits the abbacy of Mummolinus
and implicitly makes Bertin the first abbot of Sithiu; Bertin is also credited
with finding the spot chosen by God for the foundation, since he was alone at
the time. After the story of the foundation, the VB2 follows almost word for
word the second chapter of the VB1.25 The last two chapters of the VB2
mention Bertin’s designation of his successors, Rigobert and Erlefrid, when
he was still alive, and describes his death on 6 September and his burial in his
monastery (‘in coenobio proprio’) – details which do not appear in the VB1.26
Since the purpose of the VB2 was obviously to introduce another version of
the donation and foundation of Sithiu, in which the role played by St Bertin
was much more important than in the VA1, it was necessary for the author to
rewrite the vita of St Omer (VA2) as well, in order to maintain narrative coher-
ence. The VA1 had been altered before by an author who, besides making a
few stylistic changes, had appended a series of miracles (VA1bis); however,
this interpolator did not alter the story of the foundation. It is on the VA1bis
that the author of the VA2 based his own rendition of St Omer’s life.27 He
proceeded with the VA2 as he did with the VB2: after a brief prologue of his
own fabrication, he copied almost word for word the first eight chapters of
the VA1. Of course, he omitted the chapters relating the arrival of Bertin and
his friends, the donation of Sithiu and the foundation of the monastery which
would have been redundant with the VB2. For the remainder of his composi-
tion he followed the VA1bis.
The writing of the VB2 and the VA2 was not the only effort made by the
monks of Saint-Bertin to rewrite the story of the foundation of Sithiu in a
more flattering light for St Bertin: they also forged a charter presenting a
similar rendition of the donation of Sithiu by Adroald. The donation charter
is probably not a complete fabrication, since there is no reason to reject its
55
Saint-Bertin
enumeration of the original donation. But the prologue, which repeats the
story of Omer suggesting to Adroald that he give Sithiu directly to Bertin, has
certainly been interpolated. Furthermore, the date of the charter, 6
September, has long been deemed suspicious because St Bertin’s feast is 5
September, a coincidence too good to be true.28 It is unfortunately impossible
to determine whether it was the charter or the vita that inspired the other, but
their interdependence is obvious.29 The rewriting of the foundation story
through both the VB2 and the donation charter shows the importance that the
monastic communities attached to the story of their origins. Indeed, a satis-
fying foundation legend was necessary for the community to assert its presti-
gious origins, the greatness of its patron saint and the legitimacy of its
original endowment. In this regard, the legal and the hagiographic texts had
a complementary role to play.30
The coexistence of two versions of the lives of St Omer and St Bertin raises
the issue of the anteriority of one version over the other and their credibility.
So far, I have taken it as obvious that the VA1 and VB1 are the oldest texts.
First of all, there is internal evidence for this: Léon van der Essen had already
remarked that in the VA2 Fuscianus and Victoricus, the alleged first evange-
lists of Morinie, were no longer said to be companions of St Denis (as in the
VA1) but of St Lucian. This alteration suggests an awareness of the vita of St
Denis written by Hilduin of Saint-Denis after 817, who identified Denis of
Paris with Denis the Areopagite.31 Furthermore, the omission of
Mummolinus as first abbot is not credible because he is incidentally quoted
as predecessor of St Bertin in a privilege of Clovis III given in 690.32 But the
best evidence of the posteriority of the VB2 over the triple vita is found in the
text itself and the circumstances of its redaction. I have amply underlined that
the VB2 purports to give St Bertin all the credit for the foundation of Sithiu.
This makes sense only in a context in which the monks of Sithiu would have
felt somewhat estranged from the cult of St Omer: that is, at least after Abbot
Fridugis (820–834) had divided the community between monks and canons
and, more precisely, after the Benedictine restoration of Gerard of Brogne in
the mid-tenth century.
56
Narrative Production
Although the division of the community between monks and canons did
not immediately lead to the rewriting of the foundation story, it is the event
that triggered the later conflicts of interest between the two communities. The
division was related in some detail by Folcuin in the Gesta Abbatum
Sithiensium (961). Folcuin reports that at the beginning of his abbacy, Fridugis
undertook to divide the community between monks and canons: out of
eighty-three monks serving the church of Saint-Bertin he kept only sixty, and
in the church of Saint-Omer he replaced the forty monks with thirty canons;
and as he was himself a canon, Fridugis went to live at Saint-Omer’s.33 Thus,
Sithiu became a sort of double community, ruled until Gérard of Brogne’s
reform by the same abbot who could be either a monk or a canon. At the same
time, Fridugis constituted the mensa abbatum and the mensa fratrum: he kept
some villae for himself – and his successors – and shared the remaining ones
proportionally between monks and canons. Folcuin, who describes Fridugis
as a greedy despot who purportedly destroyed the monks’ regular life, pres-
ents the operation in an extremely negative light. However, the move was
probably not felt in this way at the time.34 Indeed, the creation of the mensa
fratrum and the mensa abbatum as well as the division of the community
between monks and canons were common features of the time and must be
considered in the broader context of Louis the Pious’ ecclesiastical politics.
First of all, the creation of the mensa fratrum, that is the dedication of a distinct
part of the estates of a monastery for the exclusive use of the community, was
above all a measure of protection for the monks. Louis the Pious needed the
wealth of his monasteries to reward his followers; not only did he perpetuate
the system of secular abbots, but from his reign date the first attested
appointments of laymen to abbacies.35 At a time when abbeys were
commonly given as benefits to the ruler’s close allies, the mensa fratrum
granted the monks an indefeasible income.36 The selection of the abbots by
the king was in blatant violation of the Benedictine Rule; nonetheless secular
and lay abbots were not always a nuisance and were sometimes even appre-
ciated by the communities they ruled.37 At Sithiu, the constitution of the
57
Saint-Bertin
mensa fratrum, itself made of two distinct parts, one (one third) for the mainte-
nance of the canons of Saint-Omer and one (two thirds) for the monks of
Saint-Bertin, was thus a common feature of Church management at the time.
As for the division of the community between monks and canons, it was
certainly not an attack on regular monastic life, but the consequence of coun-
cils held at Aachen in August 816 and July 817 which resulted in the promul-
gation of a set of decrees imposing strict obedience of the Benedictine Rule on
the monks throughout the Frankish realm.38 The Institutio canonicorum and
the Institutio sanctimonialium were issued for the canons and canonesses 39
The separation of canons, living at Saint-Omer, and monks, living at
Saint-Bertin, is repeated in other communities, such as Saint-Hilaire at
Poitiers and Saint-Martin at Tours, which used to be considered monastic
communities or whose status was already ambiguous, became houses of
canons.40 At Saint-Hilaire at Poitiers the brethren willing to follow the
Benedictine Rule were gathered in the dependent cella of Nouaillé.41 Cormery
was a dependent cella of Saint-Martin, which Alcuin had endowed and filled
with monks from Aniane; when Saint-Martin opted for the ordo canonicus,
Fridugis appointed Cormery to the use of those who wanted to follow the
Rule.42 As for the fact that canons were introduced for the first time at
Saint-Bertin by Fridugis, this seems doubtful. Before and after Benedict of
Aniane’s reform, the distinction between the ordo monasticus and the ordo
canonicus had always been more theoretical than real. Many communities
die Kirche’, in Mönchtum, Episkopat, Adel zur Gründungszeit des Klosters Reichenau, ed.
A. Borst (Sigmaringen, 1974), pp. 397–432; A-M. Helvétius, ‘L’abbatiat laïque comme
relais du pouvoir royal aux frontières du royaume: le cas du Nord de la Neustrie au
IXe siècle’, in La royauté et les élites, pp. 285–99.
38 Synodi I: Aquisgranensis Acta Praeliminaria, Statua Murbacensia, Aquisgranensis Decreta
Authentica (816) and Synodi II: Aquisgranensis Decreta Authentica (817), in Corpus
Consuetudinum Monasticarum, ed. J. Semmler (Sieburg, 1963), I: Initia Consuetudinis
Benedictinae, pp. 423–68; on the divergence between the Benedictine Rule and the
816–817 decrees, see J. Semmler, ‘Benedictus II: una regula – una consuetudo’, in
Benedictine Culture 750–1050, ed. W. Lourdaux and D. Verhelst (Leuven, 1983), pp.
1–49 (pp. 30–41).
39 Concilia Aevi Karolini, ed. A. Werminghoff, 2 vols. (Hanover, 1906–1908) I: ‘Institutio
canonicorum Aquisgranensis’, pp. 307–420, and ‘Institutio sanctimonialium
Aquisgranensis’, pp. 420–56. On the history of the canonical order and its develop-
ment in Flanders, see most recently B. Meijns, Aken of Jerusalem? Het Ontstaan en de
Hervorming van de Kanonikale Instellingen in Vlaanderen tot circa 1155 (Leuven, 2000).
40 Semmler, ‘Benedictus II’, pp. 13–17; at Saint-Denis until Abbot Hilduin, at
Saint-Martin and at Saint-Hilaire, for example, the major part of the communities did
not accept the reform. Therefore, the minority of monks who wanted to follow the
Rule were sent in a cella belonging to the community (Nouaillé for Saint-Hilaire,
Cormery for Saint-Martin); on Nouaillé, see L. Levillain, ‘Les origines du monastère
de Nouaillé’, Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des Chartes 71 (1910), 241–79.
41 Semmler, ‘Benedictus II’, p. 15.
42 On Fridugis’s abbacy at Tours, see Felten, Äbte und Laienäbte, pp. 245–6.
58
Narrative Production
followed their own Regula mixta and did not want to give up their local tradi-
tion, which, after 816, automatically relegated them in the category of canons,
even if they considered themselves monks.43 The appellation ‘monks’ and
‘canons’ was not clearly settled either. In 802, Charlemagne had already
written to the community of Tours: ‘sometimes you call yourselves canons,
sometimes monks, sometimes neither’.44 There are reasons to believe that the
situation at Sithiu was as ambiguous as it was at Tours, and the observance of
the monks gathered around Saint-Bertin and Saint-Omer was probably not as
clear as Folcuin implied.
While the division at Sithiu theoretically sanctioned a geographical split
between two different religious lifestyles, it did not result in its division into
two distinct houses: despite the distribution of manses and revenues between
monks and canons, Sithiu remained a single landholding unit, as is mani-
festly clear from the donation charters which were always, before and after
the division, made in the names of St Omer and St Bertin.45 Furthermore, until
the mid-tenth century, when Gerard of Brogne restored the Benedictine Rule
at Sithiu, monks and canons shared the same abbot, who could be a monk or,
more often, a canon. In these conditions, it is difficult to imagine that the
monks within the community remained strict adherents of the Benedictine
rule. The difference between the two groups’ religious practice must have
faded, even though, in accordance with the 816–817 decrees, a larger role was
43 See J. Semmler, ‘Mönche und Kanoniker im Frankenreiche Pippins III und Karls des
Großen’, in Untersuchungen zu Kloster und Stift (Göttingen, 1980), pp. 78–111 (pp.
85–95), who emphasizes that these communities switched so easily from the status of
monks to canons because they had always followed their own Regula mixta and were
thus already departing from strict Benedictine observance; see also A-M. Helvétius’s
remarks in Abbayes, évêques et laïques, pp. 204–8.
44 Epistolae Karolini Aevi, 42, ed. E. Dümmler (Berlin, 1895), ep. 247, pp. 399–40; see J.
Chelini, ‘Alcuin, Charlemagne et Saint-Martin de Tours’, in Mémorial de l’année
martinienne, M.DCCCC.LX–M.DCCCC.LXI, seizième centenaire de l’abbaye de Ligugé,
centenaire de la découverte du tombeau de Saint Martin à Tours (Paris, 1962), pp. 19–50 (p.
42); on Saint-Martin, its abbots and its religious practice, see Felten, Äbte und
Laienäbte, pp. 229–46.
45 The early charters given to Sithiu as the monastery built in honor of Saints Peter and
Paul, St Martin and the Virgin Mary; after the creation of the mensa fratrum and the
division between monks and canons, ninth-century donation charters and royal
privileges were still given to the monastery of Sithiu, ‘where lay St Bertin and St
Omer’, that is, without distinction between canons and monks; on all this, see Meijns,
‘Chanoines et moines’. Nonetheless, in his recent study on Folcuin’s Gesta Abbatum
Sithiensium, Laurent Morelle has noticed that, after the division, redactors of private
charters tended to equate Sithiu with the denomination Saint-Peter, implying that
the monks had a sort of leadership over Sithiu: L. Morelle, ‘Ecrit diplomatique et
archives monastiques (France septentrionale, VIIIe–XIIe siècle). Dossier présentéd
devant l’Université de Paris I – Panthéon-Sorbonne en vue d’obtenir l’Habilitation à
diriger des Recherches. Mémoire: Autour de Folcuin de Saint-Bertin’ (unpublished
Accreditation thesis, Paris, 2001), pp. 126–34 (hereafter quoted as ‘Autour de
Folcuin’). I thank the author for kindly giving me access to his manuscript.
59
Saint-Bertin
60
Narrative Production
Folcuin was born around 935 in a Lotharingian aristocratic family from the
diocese of Liège; he descended from Charles Martel through his illegitimate
son Jerome.49 His family had long had strong links with the monastery: the
brother of his great-grandfather was St Folcuin, bishop of Thérouanne
(817–855), who was buried at Saint-Bertin. In 928, at the time of Count-Abbot
Adalulf, Folcuin’s father initiated the elevation of St Folcuin’s relics.50 Given
these strong family links, it was quite natural that Folcuin was made an
oblate of Saint-Bertin by his parents, Folcuin and Thiedala (in 948) and was
professed in 961.51 Folcuin wrote the Gesta in 962 but did not stay at
Saint-Bertin for long: in December 965, he was designated abbot of Lobbes by
Eracle, bishop of Liège, and on 1 January, he was ordained by Bishop
Ingelram of Cambrai.52 Folcuin ruled Lobbes for twenty-four years, until his
death in 990.53 During his abbacy, he wrote the vita of St Folcuin, which he
dedicated to the community and the abbot of Saint-Bertin, Walter; he also
wrote the gesta of the abbots of Lobbes.
In order to fully reconstruct the text of the Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium,it is
necessary to piece together a number of editions and manuscripts. A very old
48 VB3, c. 8, p. 605.
49 On Folcuin, see E. Brouette, ‘Folcuin’, in DHGE 17 (Paris, 1971), cols. 744–749, and
Vanderputten, ‘Literate Memory’; on his family, see Le Jan, Famille et pouvoir, pp. 260
and 454. Folcuin, Vita Folcuini, c. 3, p. 427; Folcuin, Gesta, c. 104, p. 627.
50 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 104, p. 627.
51 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 107, p. 629.
52 Folcuin, Gesta Abbatum Lobbiensium, ed. G. H. Pertz MGH SS 4 (Hanover, 1851), pp.
52–74 (c. 28, p. 69). On Folcuin’s abbacy at Lobbes, see Dierkens, Abbayes et chapitres,
pp. 120–4.
53 Dierkens, Abbayes et chapitres, p. 124. On narrative production at Lobbes, see A.
Dierkens, ‘La production hagiographique à Lobbes au Xe siècle’, RB 93 (1983),
245–59.
61
Saint-Bertin
copy of the Gesta, which may have been Folcuin’s autograph, survived in
Saint-Bertin’s archives until the French Revolution; it is known as the Vetus
Folcuinus. This manuscript has now disappeared, but it was copied by Joseph
Dewitte, the last archivist of the abbey, before the Revolution (S-O 815).
Joseph Dewitte’s copy of the Gesta was not the first one. Folcuin’s text had
also been copied in the twelfth century together with its continuation by
Simon of Saint-Bertin (BSM 146 and 146a). This manuscript contains a series
of forged charters which were not in the Vetus Folcuinus. Between 1509 and
1512, the monk Alard Tassard made a partial copy of the Gesta, following the
Vetus Folcuinus (S-O 750). In 1693, Bertin Portebois made yet another copy
from the Vetus Folcuinus and the twelfth-century manuscript (Paris, BN, MS
Latin, nouv. acq., 275).54
The text was published for the first time in 1840 by Benjamin Guérard
under the title Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin; Guérard unfortunately
relied without criticism on the twelfth-century copy and his edition is
extremely unreliable.55 In 1841, Oswald Holder-Egger provided the MGH
with an edition of the narrative part of the text, but did not include the
charters.56 In 1950, Maurits Gysseling and A. C. F. Koch published the charters
alone in Diplomata Belgica. And finally, the early ninth-century polyptych
included by Folcuin in his Gesta was published separately by François-Louis
Ganshof in 1975. Thus, Folcuin’s Gesta is now scattered into distinct editions,
which does not do justice to the breadth, purpose, complexity and originality
of the original document.
How did Folcuin construct the Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium? Regarding his
sources, Sithiu had a fairly well-furnished library, and Folcuin would have
found there works to provide him with the historical background necessary
for his narrative. For the general history of the Merovingian period he used
Pseudo-Fredegar and the Liber Historiae Francorum.57 For the Carolingian
period, he used the Annales Bertiniani (830–882) and the Annales Sithienses
(532–823). The Annales Bertiniani were written at Reims, and the manuscript
was probably brought from there to Saint-Bertin by Abbot Fulk during his
second abbacy.58 The Annales Sithienses were copied by a single hand into a
54 On the manuscript tradition of the Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium, see Diplomata Belgica,
pp. 2–3; Ganshof, Le polyptyque de l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin, pp. 1–5 and, most recently,
Morelle, Autour de Folcuin, pp. 2–33.
55 Cartulaire de l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin, ed. B. Guérard, Collection de Documents pour
Servire à l’Histoire de France (Paris, 1840).
56 Folcuin, Gesta.
57 Fredegar, Chronicorum Liber Quartus cum Continuationibus, ed. and trans. J. M.
Wallace-Hadrill, The Fourth Book of the Chronicle of Fredegar (London, 1960); Liber
Historiae Francorum, ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM 2 (Hanover, 1888), pp. 215–328.
58 The original has disappeared, but a copy was made at Saint-Bertin in the eleventh
century; see the most recent comments in The Annals of Saint-Bertin, trans. J. Nelson,
Ninth-Century Histories 1 (Manchester, 1991).
62
Narrative Production
59 Annales Sithienses, ed. G. Weitz, MGH SS 13 (Hanover, 1881), pp. 34–8; according to a
dedicace on the first folio, the manuscript, BSM, MS 48, was given to Saint-Bertin in
the ninth century (see Annales Sithienses, p. 34, n. 1).
60 Annales Fuldenses, ed. F. Kurze, MGH SRG (Hanover, 1891); see also The Annals of
Fulda, trans. T. Reuter, Ninth-Century Histories 2 (Manchester, 1992).
61 Grierson, Les Annales, p. XVII.
62 On the genre of gesta, see Sot, Gesta Episcoporum, Gesta Abbatum, pp. 17–19. See also
the examples in R.-H. Bautier ‘L’historiographie en France aux Xe et XIe siècles’, pp.
809–16; P. Geary, ‘Entre gestion et gesta’, in Les Cartulaires, pp. 13–26, and B.-M. Tock,
‘Les textes non diplomatiques dans les cartulaires de la province de Reims’, in Les
Cartulaires, pp. 45–58.
63
Saint-Bertin
the Gesta Pontificalis, the deeds of the successive popes and the gifts made by
and to them.63 The twelfth-century book-list from Saint-Bertin mentions the
Gesta Romanorum Pontificum, and the text may well have been there in
Folcuin’s time. But the more immediate model behind Folcuin’s use of gesta
was probably the ninth-century gesta of the abbots of Saint-Wandrille.64 There
are reasons to believe that Saint-Bertin owned a copy of the Gesta of
Fontenelle; indeed, those Gesta were closely linked to a set of hagiographic
texts, the vitae of Sts. Wandrille, Ansbert and Wulframn. All these texts exist
together in one eleventh-century manuscript, and its archetype may have
been at Saint-Bertin, since copies of the vitae were made there in the tenth and
eleventh centuries.65 Both the Gesta and the hagiographic texts from
Fontenelle are deeply concerned with landholding and immunity. Ferdinand
Lot has counted references to sixty-three charters, fifty-one of them from the
Gesta, but unlike the Gesta of Saint-Bertin, the Gesta of Fontenelle does not
include full-text charters. Ian Wood has also noticed the concerns of the
Fontenelle authors with the observance and quality of the Benedictine Rule
followed in the monastery.66 Fontenelle’s combining of Gesta and hagiog-
raphy and its preoccupation with landholding and religious life are mirrored
in Folcuin’s Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium. Fontenelle’s text – although written
more than a century earlier and with a different agenda – must have been an
inspiring model for Folcuin. It is also noteworthy that the author of the
famous Le Mans forgeries used a similar combination of Gesta augmented
with charter evidence and hagiographic texts to advance a dubious claim – in
this case, the control of the monastery of Saint-Calais by the bishopric of Le
Mans.67
Thus, the gesta, because of their multiple nature – narrative, hagiographic
and legalistic – were a convenient tool for early medieval authors attempting
to promote their institution’s claims to property and spiritual authority. The
adoption of this genre by Folcuin, however, was not the most obvious of
choices. Although the Gesta became very popular in the eleventh century,
63 Sot, Gesta Episcoporum, p. 17; see for example The Lives of the Ninth-Century Popes, ed.
and trans. R. Davis (Liverpool, 1995).
64 Gesta Sanctorum Patrum Fontanellensis Coenobii, ed. F. Lohier and J. Laporte (Rouen
and Paris, 1931).
65 S-O, MS 764; on the influence of Fontenelle’s gesta on Folcuin, see H. van Werveke,
‘Saint-Wandrille et Saint-Pierre de Gand (IXe–Xe siècles)’, in Miscellanea Mediaevalia
in Memoriam Jan Frederick Niermeyer (Groningen, 1967), pp. 79–92; on the Gesta of
Saint-Wandrille, see F. Lot, Études critiques sur l’abbaye de Saint-Wandrille,
Bibliothèque de l’École des Hautes Études 204 (Paris, 1913), pp. 3–12, and I. Wood,
‘Saint-Wandrille and its Historiography’, in Church and Chronicle in the Middle Ages.
Essays Presented to John Taylor, ed. I. Wood and G. A. Loud (London, 1991), pp. 1–14.
66 Wood, ‘Saint-Wandrille’, pp. 8–9.
67 On the Le Mans forgeries, see W. Goffart, The Le Mans Forgeries: A Chapter from the
History of Church Property in the Ninth Century, Harvard Historical Studies 76
(Cambridge, Mass., 1966).
64
Narrative Production
only a few examples were produced before this, and, since these texts were
most likely limited to a very local audience, except for the Gesta of Saint-
Wandrille, they were probably unknown to Folcuin.68 Steven Vanderputten
has effectively brought to light the innovative aspects of Folcuin’s discursive
method. Instead of merely aligning transcriptions of charters in chronological
order – as did the author of the Liber Traditionum of Saint-Peter’s Ghent –
Folcuin put the charters in context, introducing and commenting upon them
in the numerous narrative sections. This was a first step toward complex
historical narratives meant to explain, rather than merely document, the
construction of a community in all aspects of its personality.69
A careful examination of the Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium reveals Folcuin’s
two main goals: on the one hand, the recording of Sithiu’s historical tradition
– and the promotion of the pro St Bertin version of the foundation as it had
been developed in the VB2 – and, on the other, the recording of assertion of
the abbey’s rights against possible exactions by the count of Flanders. In the
introduction of the Gesta, Folcuin, following the VB2, asserts that St Bertin
was the founder and first abbot of Sithiu:
Then, in the first chapter, he undertakes to tell the story of Adroald’s donation
in the version given by the VB2 – indeed, Folcuin refers to a vita of St Bertin
(‘velud in Gestis almi patris Bertini legitur’) – and inserts Adroald’s forged
donation charter.71 Folcuin deliberately chose the version of the VB2 over the
version of the VA1, although he probably knew both lives – certainly, he knew
the third part of the original hagiographic triptych, the VW1.72 That Folcuin
chose the version of the foundation which made St Bertin the first abbot is also
68 When he wrote the Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium Folcuin did not know Flodoard’s His-
toria Remensis Ecclesiae, which was also known as Gesta Remorum Pontificum, but he
had seen it at Reims before writing the Gesta of Lobbes; see Sot, Gesta Episcoporum, p.
40.
69 Vanderputten, ‘Literate Memory’. Folcuin pushed the narrative method even further
in the Gesta Abbatum Lobiensium.
70 Folcuin, Gesta, p. 607.
71 Diplomata Belgica, no. 1, p. 5.
72 Folcuin, Gesta, c. 11, p. 610.
65
Saint-Bertin
coherent with the bitter feelings he expressed toward the canon Fridugis,
responsible for the splitting of the community between monks and canons.
Another politically charged episode told by Folcuin is the alleged submis-
sion of the canons to the monks in the ninth century. Folcuin relates in
chapter 57 of the Gesta that Abbot Hugh (830–844) had submitted the canons
to the authority of the monks and delegated the custody of both the lower
monastery and Saint-Omer to the monks of Saint-Bertin.73 If this affirmation
proves to be true, this would suggest that the division of the community had
been contested as early as the time of Fridugis’s successor. The alleged
episode was the object of forgeries and later additions to the original text of
the Gesta. The Vetus Folcuinus originally contained only one paragraph on the
subject:
66
Narrative Production
made at the end of the twelfth century (BSM, MS 146a); this later copy
contains Hugh’s charter in proper chronological order, plus a new paragraph
on the same issue, which was added to Folcuin’s original text:
67
Saint-Bertin
Laurent Morelle has suggested that this excerpt of chapter 57 may have been interpo-
lated in the Vetus Folcuinus: L. Morelle, Autour de Folcuin, pp. 355–61.
83 Diplomata Belgica, no. 3, pp. 10–11; Ewig, ‘Das Privileg’.
84 Ewig, ‘Das Privileg’, p. 532.
85 Diplomata Belgica, no. 3, pp. 10–11.
86 Diplomata Belgica, no. 3, pp. 11–13; Ewig, ‘Das Privileg’, pp. 508–14.
87 Ewig, ‘Das Privileg’, p. 536. On the little and big exemptions, see E. Ewig,
‘Beobachtungen zu den Klosterprivilegien des 7 und frühen 8 jahrhunderts’, in
Spätantikes und Fränkishes Gallien II, pp. 411–26; on episcopal exemptions and royal
immunities, see B. Rosenwein, Negotiating Space: Power, Restraint and Privileges of
Immunity in Early Medieval Europe (Manchester, 1999).
88 Ewig, ‘Das Privileg’, pp. 536–7.
68
Narrative Production
basilica was built communi opere with the community of Sithiu, that he had
built it for the monks’ assistance.89 Communi opere seems in contradiction with
the VA1 which states that the basilica was built before the arrival of Bertin and
his friends.
While the privilege is of a fairly common type, apart from the disturbances
brought about by the insertion of the epistola, the epistola itself is more
unusual. Ewig has emphasized the similarities between Omer’s letter and the
St Amand’s codicil. Dated from 675, this document records St Amand’s wish
to be buried in his foundation of Elnone and his request that the monks bring
his remains there, wherever he should die.90 St Amand’s codicil is generally
accepted as authentic and the similarities between the two documents clearly
suggest a common source or even a filiation – although it is difficult to
imagine that St Amand’s text could have been copied from Omer’s letter as
we know it. It is interesting that St Amand’s codicil was probably known at
Sithiu, since St Bertin himself was among its signatories.
To conclude, the epistola cum privilegio presents anomalies that shed doubt
on its integrity. An authentic exemption, still visible in our document, may
well have existed; but a forger may have tampered with the original by
inserting the epistola. The epistola itself may have been entirely forged or,
rather, based on an authentic letter of St Omer. In any case, its substance –
control of the basilica by the monks of Sithiu – as well as the expression
communi opere suggests that it may have been cooked up for the same purpose
as the VB2 and Adroald’s donation charter.
While it is clear that Folcuin’s Gesta passes on the new foundation story of
Sithiu and the pro-Saint-Bertin bias of the reformed community, the author’s
responsibility in the alteration and forgeries is not clear. Did Folcuin gather –
knowingly or not – documents that had already been forged, or is he to be
held accountable for the creation of the new foundation legend and the
related forgeries? I do not believe that the question can be answered defi-
nitely. Some aspects of the Gesta may point to Folcuin’s responsibility. The
close agreement of the Gesta and the new foundation story, as well as their
chronological proximity – Folcuin wrote during the year 962 – is certainly an
argument in favor of this hypothesis. Indeed, as the keeper and compiler of
Sithiu’s archives, he was in the best position to select, alter or make up the
texts he inserted in his Gesta.91 Folcuin’s anger against Fridugis, which
contrasts with his usually dispassionate tone, could be an indication that on
this specific occasion his objectivity was for once at fault.
Besides the transmission of this new historical tradition, Folcuin, and the
patron of the Gesta, the acting-abbot Adalulf, were very much concerned with
69
Saint-Bertin
The gathering of all the charters into one volume had a practical purpose and
allowed anyone who needed to investigate Sithiu’s possession to find the
information easily:
70
Narrative Production
71
Saint-Bertin
The ‘Inventio’ of St Bertin’s relics was written shortly after 1052 on the occa-
sion of the elevation of St Bertin’s relics, which Abbot Bovo (1042–1065) had
allegedly discovered during the works of restoration and enlargement of the
abbatial church.100 Inventiones, as a narrative genre, relate the discovery of
relics whose location had been forgotten or hitherto ignored; they belong to a
textual category, closely related to the cult of relics, which can be conve-
niently called ‘relic narratives’.101 The different genres of relic narratives were
particularly popular in northern France in the tenth and eleventh centuries
because of the intensive traffic in relics caused by the disruptions, alleged or
real, brought about by the vikings, and by the subsequent wave of monastic
foundations, refoundations and reforms which spread throughout the
region.102 Among these relic narratives, one group of texts is particularly
remarkable through its association with a specific religious reform: the move-
ment of Benedictine restoration associated with Gerard of Brogne in Flanders
99 The following section has been published under the title ‘Relics as Tools of Power:
The Eleventh-Century Inventio of St Bertin’s Relics and the Assertion of Abbot
Bovo’s Authority’, in Negotiating Secular and Ecclesiastical Power: Western Europe in
the Central Middle Ages, ed. A.-J. Bijsterveld, H. Theunis and A. Wareham (Turnhout,
1999), pp. 51–71.
100 Bovo, Relatio de Inventione et Elevatione Sancti Bertini, ed. O. Holder-Egger, MGH SS
151 (Hanover, 1887), pp. 524–34 (BHL 1296).
101 Relic narratives also include translationes, relating the transfer of relics from one
shrine to another, furta, dealing with thefts of relics, adventus, detailing the arrival of
newly found, acquired or stolen relics at a new location, and delationes, the carrying
around of relics in order to bolster a cult and raise money. On relic narratives in
general, see M. Heinzelmann, Translationsberichte und andere Quellen des
Reliquienkultes, Typologie 33 (Turnhout, 1979). On relics thefts, see P. Geary, Furta
Sacra: Thefts of Relics in Central Middle Ages (Princeton, 1978). On delationes, see P.
Héliot and M.-L. Chastang, ‘Quêtes et voyages de reliques au profit des églises
françaises au moyen âge’, Revue d’Histoire Ecclésiastique 59 (1964), 789–822, and 60
(1965), 3–32; R. Kaiser, ‘Quêtes itinérantes avec des reliques pour financer la
construction des églises (XIe–XIIe siècles)’, Le Moyen Âge 2 (1995), 204–25, and E.
Bozoky, ‘Voyages de reliques et démonstration du pouvoir aux temps féodaux’, in
Voyages et voyageurs au moyen âge. XXVIe Congrès de la S.H.M.E.S. (Limoges-Aubazine,
mai 1995) (Paris, 1996), pp. 267–80. On inventiones, see M. Otter, Inventiones : Fiction
and Referentiality in Twelfth-Century English Historical Writing (London, 1996), pp.
21–57, and A.-M. Helvétius, ‘Les inventions de reliques en Gaule du Nord
(IXe–XIIIe siècles)’, in Les reliques. Objets, cultes, symboles. Actes du colloque interna-
tional de l’Université du Littoral-Côte d’Opale (Boulogne-sur-Mer 4–6 Septembre 1997),
ed. E. Bozoky and A.-M. Helvétius, Hagiologia 1 (Turnhout, 1999, pp. 293–311.
102 F. Lifshitz, ‘The Migration of Neustrian Relics in the Viking Age: The Myth of
Voluntary Exodus, the Reality of Coercion and Theft’, Early Medieval Europe 4 (1995),
175–92, shows how the fear of vikings was used as a spurious explanation for thefts
of relics camouflaged as translations in tenth-century Normandy.
72
Narrative Production
and Lotharingia. Because of its date and place of composition, Bovo’s Inventio
fully belongs to this tradition of relic narratives; nonetheless, his agenda went
beyond the advertising of a cult and the bolstering of the corporate identity of
the saint’s community usually associated with inventiones. Indeed, Bovo used
the models available to him, thanks to the continuous textual tradition which
had flourished in Flanders since the mid-tenth century, to compose a seem-
ingly standard inventio. A closer look at Bovo’s Inventio, however, reveals
how much its author perverted the conventions of the genre, in order to
create an extremely personal and self-serving text asserting his own authority
within the monastic community.
To comprehend fully the specificity of this text, it is necessary to look first
at the local tradition of relic narratives which inspired Bovo in writing his
own account; that is, the group of relic narratives which can be associated
directly or indirectly with the Benedictine revival promoted by Gerard of
Brogne in the middle decades of the tenth century.
Between 931 and 953, Gerard founded or re-established the Benedictine
Rule in at least nine monasteries; six of them – including Saint-Bertin – were
located within the territory of his friend and patron Arnulf, count of Flanders,
who forcefully used his authority over the abbeys in his territories to help
Gerard in his mission. As I have already emphasized, the specifics of
Gerard’s reforms remain elusive. However, one aspect of his religious devo-
tion, which he shared with Arnulf, is well known and documented: his fond-
ness of relics. The two men loved relics so much that they had few scruples
when it came to obtaining them, and when they could not get them through
friendly contacts, they did not hesitate to resort to military raids. Arnulf’s and
Gerard’s traffic in relics led to the production of an important corpus of texts
relating to their theft or exploits (depending on the point of view of the
author) and their later consequences.103 It is not clear how much Gerard’s
abbacies stimulated contacts and exchanges of manuscripts between all his
abbeys, but a common textual trend can be observed, and it can safely be
asserted that the abbeys reformed by Gerard played a significant part in the
spreading of relic narratives in the region.
Different types of relic narratives fulfill different purposes: Inventiones
were often composed to justify the foundation or refoundation of a monastic
community at the site of a miraculous discovery. This is indeed the case of the
Inventio Sancti Gisleni, written around 940 by a monk of Saint-Ghislain (near
Mons, Belgium).104 According to the Inventio and the Vita Sancti Gisleni,
103 On Gerard of Brogne and the cult of relics, see E. Bozoky, ‘La politique des reliques
des premiers comtes de Flandre (fin du IXe – fin du XIe siècle)’, in Les reliques, pp.
271–92, and D. Misonne, ‘Gérard de Brogne et sa dévotion aux reliques’, Sacris
Erudiri 25 (1982), 1–26.
104 Inventio et Miracula Sancti Gisleni, ed. O. Holder-Egger, MGH SS 152 (Hanover,
1888), pp. 576–9 (BHL 3554).
73
Saint-Bertin
Ghislain had lived in the eighth century and after his death a religious
community had formed around the church that he had built.105 However,
save for references in the early tenth-century life of St Waldetrude, nothing
was recorded about St Ghislain and his eponymous monastery before the
mid-tenth century.106 Things changed when Duke Gislebert of Lotharingia
called on Gerard of Brogne to restore the community, which had fallen –
according to the Inventio – into a state of deep decay. Indeed, no less than
three vitae and one inventio were devoted to Ghislain in the decades after
Gerard’s takeover in 931. The inventio presents the miraculous finding of the
relics as a prefiguration of and a pre-requisite for Gerard’s abbacy. St Ghislain
had remained hidden in the ground because of the sins of his community
(‘peccatis enim nostris exigentibus, tantus patrocinator mortalibus profuturus
palam aberat’),107 and it was only after he revealed himself that Gislebert
decided to invite Gerard to restore a proper monastic life under the Benedic-
tine Rule (‘ergo monachico ordine sub norma sancti habitus instituto,
maioribus demum virtutibus monasterium attolitur’).108 Moreover, the
inventio provided Gerard with the relics needed to gather his community
around the cult of its patron saint and to bolster, if not to create, its sense of
corporate identity. Furthermore, the author’s insistence on the decay
preceding the discovery of the relics and the arrival of Gerard – a literary
device abundantly used by authors of inventiones109 – emphasized the role of
the reformer and the rebirth of his abbey.
Although Saint-Ghislain was the first of Gerard’s documented monastic
restorations, he had already prompted the translation of the relics of St
Eugene, which had been brought from Saint-Denis in 919 to his own monastic
foundation of Brogne (near Namur, Belgium).110 Because Brogne was a brand
new foundation on Gerard’s own estates, its community had no hagiographic
tradition and was in great need of relics and a specific liturgy. The Adventus
sancti Eugenii martyris, the text and the actual transfer of the relics, provided
all of this. The text was read as a sermon on the feast day of St Eugene, on the
anniversary of the arrival of his relics at Brogne.111 It is not as much about the
105 Vita Gisleni Prima, ed. J. Ghesquière, Acta Sanctorum Belgii 4 (Brussels, 1787), pp.
375–84 (BHL 3552).
106 On the foundation of the monastery of Saint-Ghislain and hagiography of the saint,
see Helvétius, Abbayes, évêques et laïques, pp. 213–34.
107 Inventio Sancti Gisleni, c. 1, p. 576.
108 Inventio Sancti Gisleni, c. 6, p. 578.
109 See, for example, the story of the mid-seventh-century translation of SS Benedict
and Scholastic from Monte Cassino, destroyed by the Lombards, to Fleury, written
by Adrevald of Fleury in the late ninth century: Historia Translationis S. Benedicti, ed.
E. de Certain, in Les Miracles de Saint Benoît (Paris, 1868), pp. 1–14 (BHL 1117).
110 D. Misonne, ‘La légende liturgique de la translation de St Eugène de Saint-Denis à
Brogne’, RB 74 (1964), 98–110.
111 Misonne, ‘La légende liturgique de la translation de St Eugène’, p. 98.
74
Narrative Production
75
Saint-Bertin
115 This lost text should not be confused with the Sermo de Adventu SS. Gudwaldi et
Bertulfi, ed. N. Huyghebaert, Sacris Erudiri 23 (1978–1979), pp. 87–113; the Sermo is a
twelfth-century account of the adventus of Gudwald and Bertulf based on the rela-
tion given by the eleventh-century Vita Bertulfi; the Vita Bertulfi itself refers to a
‘libellus qui de eorum adventu scriptus est’, which probably contained the original
account of the Adventus.
116 Hariulf, Chronicon Centulense, ed. F. Lot, Chronique de l’abbaye de Saint-Riquier (Ve
S.–1104) (Paris, 1894), pp. 150–2; J. Laporte, ‘Gérard de Brogne à Saint-Wandrille et à
Saint-Riquier’, RB 70 (1960), 142–66.
117 Huyghebaert, Une translation de reliques à Gand, pp. C–CIII; van Houts, ‘Historiog-
raphy and Hagiography at Saint-Wandrille’, pp. 237–8.
76
Narrative Production
the Adventus Sancti Gudwaldi – survive only in rehandlings or are only known
through other sources. However, an axis of textual exchange between
Saint-Wandrille, Saint-Peter at Ghent and Saint-Bertin is clearly discernible.
Indeed, it is very likely that the monks of Saint-Wandrille would have been in
contact with the abbey of Saint-Bertin during their wandering in northern
France – Saint-Bertin is only twenty miles from Boulogne, and from 875 to 891
the monks settled at Blangy-en-Artois, a few miles from Saint-Bertin.
Possibly, the acquisition by Saint-Bertin of a corpus of hagiographic texts
from Fontenelle dates from this period of contact.118 Dom Huyghebaert has
suggested that the author of the Adventus Sanctorum Wandregisili, Ansberti et
Vulframni came to know through Saint-Bertin all the Fontenelle sources that
he quoted in his work: the Vita Ansberti, the Vitae and Miracula Wandregisili
and the Gesta Patrum Fontanellensium.119 However, since monks from
Fontenelle had already settled at Saint-Peter at Ghent by the end of the ninth
century, the exchange may have happened the other way around, Saint-
Bertin receiving the Fontenelle manuscripts from Ghent in 944 when Gerard
came to Saint-Bertin to restore the Benedictine Rule. In any case, it is clear
that by the mid-tenth century texts from Fontenelle were known at Saint-
Bertin, since Folcuin most likely modeled his own text on the Gesta Patrum
Fontanellensium.
Another textual link between Ghent and Saint-Bertin might be one of the
most widely consulted relic narratives of the central Middle Ages, the Historia
Translationis S. Benedicti by Adrevald of Fleury. This text relates the finding of
the relics of SS Benedict and Scholastica at Monte Cassino by monks of
Fleury, and their subsequent translation to the Loire valley. Indeed, the full
title of the Adventus of SS Wandrille, Ansbert and Vulfran resembles the
incipit that Adrevald’s text bears in many of its copies.120 The same incipit is
118 S-O, MS 764; on this manuscript, see F. Wormald, ‘Some Illustrated MSS. of the
Lives of the Saints’, Bulletin of the J. Rylands Library (1952), 250–62, and L.
Deschamps, ‘Notice sur un manuscrit de la Bibliothèque municipale de Saint-
Omer’, MSAM 5 (1839–1840), 173–208; an unreliable tradition also suggests that the
relics of SS Wandrille and Ansbert were hidden at Saint-Omer around 846: see
Laporte, ‘Gérard de Brogne à Saint-Wandrille’, 143–5, and A. D’Haenens, Les inva-
sions normandes en Belgique au IXe siècle: le phénomène et sa répercussion dans
l’historiographie médiévale, Recueil de Travaux d’Histoire et de Philologie de
l’Université de Louvain 38 (Louvain, 1967), pp. 258–9.
119 Huyghebaert, Une translation de reliques à Gand, p. LXVI.
120 Huyghebaert, Une translation de reliques à Gand, p. XXIV. The complete title of the
Sermo is Gloriosus a Deo dispositus adventus in Monte Blandinium rite vocato sanctorum
Wandregisili, Ansberti and Vulframni; and the incipit of the Historia Translationis Sancti
Benedicti of Adrevald as found in the Saint-Bertin manuscript as well as in many
other copies is: ‘Incipit gloriosus et a Deo dispositus aventus in cenobio Floriacensis
rite vocato electi . . .’. On this text and its manuscript tradition, see A. Vidier,
L’Historiographie à Saint-Benoît sur Loire et les miracles de St Benoît (Paris, 1965); J.
Hourlier, ‘Le témoignage de Paul Diacre’, in Le culte et les reliques de Saint Benoît et de
77
Saint-Bertin
Sainte Scholastique, ed. A. Beau, Studia Monastica 21 (Monserrat, 1979), pp. 205–11;
idem, ‘La translation d’après les sources narratives’, in ibid., pp. 214–39, and Head,
Hagiography and the Cult of Saints.
121 S-O, MS 350.
122 van Houts, ‘Historiography and Hagiography at Saint-Wandrille’, pp. 237–8 gives
1054 for the date of the redaction.
123 See the examples in M. Otter, Inventiones.
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79
Saint-Bertin
131 In the course of the eleventh century bishops relied increasingly heavily on the
authority of their metropolitan for the identification and elevation of relics; this
evolution was ratified in 1025 by Gerard of Cambrai at the synod of Arras, see N.
Herrmann-Mascard, Les reliques des saints. Formation coutumière d’un droit (Paris,
1975), p. 90.
132 Bovo, Relatio, p. 525. Such a transfer of authorial responsibility from the author to
the patron is a topos of medieval narratives; see M. Sot, ‘Rhétorique et technique
dans les préfaces des gesta episcoporum (IXe–XIIe s.)’, Cahiers de Civilisation Médiévale
28 (1985), 181–200.
133 Bovo, Relatio, p. 525.
134 Bovo, Relatio, c. 5, pp. 530–1.
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The bishop explained the situation to his superior because ordinary people,
vulgus minus intelligens, were very upset by the two St Bertins and were prob-
ably requesting explanations from ecclesiastical authorities.135 Clearly,
however, the mentally challenged were not the only ones to find the situation
puzzling, since it took two years of investigation before the elevation was
performed. Eventually, in his answer to the bishop of Thérouanne, Wido
carefully advised Drogo and Bovo to place both the old and the new Bertin in
the same shrine and to translate them together.136 One of Bovo’s models for
inserting this correspondence was Adrevald of Fleury’s Translatio Sancti
Benedicti. It is clear that the exchange of letters between Drogo of Thérouanne
and Wido of Reims about the inventio and the identity of the relics is reminis-
cent of the letter addressed around 750 to the monks of Fleury by Pope
Zachary, which Adrevald of Fleury inserted in his Miracula.137 The authen-
ticity of the papal letter is much disputed,138 but by inserting it Adrevald was
making his point very clearly. The monks of Monte Cassino never recognized
Fleury’s possession of Benedict and Scholastica’s relics; but, the pope’s
injunction to the community of Fleury to give Benedict’s relics back to Monte
Cassino was an explicit admission that the relics were indeed at Fleury. In
addition, Bovo’s technique of introducing his account with an epistolary
exchange may have been inspired by the fifth-century Inventio Sancti Stephani,
which was among the most widespread inventio accounts of the Middle Ages,
especially in northern France.139 Indeed, Stephen’s Inventio is known in
Western sources as a set of two epistles: the second epistle is the Latin transla-
tion of the account given in Greek by Lucian, the priest who found Stephen’s
relics near Jerusalem, and it is introduced by a first epistle sent by the priest
Avitus, who translated the text, to the bishop of Braga. Avitus had received a
few of Stephen’s relics from Lucian and he asked his compatriot Paul
Orosius, on his way to Spain, to bring them to Braga; Avitus added the letters
to the relics in order to authenticate them.
Let us now look more closely at Bovo’s interpretation of the events
regarding the discovery of St Bertin’s relics. The story starts with the fire of
1033, which Bovo did not consider pure bad luck, but rather a consequence of
God’s wrath in the face of the laxity of spiritual life in a monastery turned
into a ‘thieves’ den’. The situation was so bad that even SS Omer and Bertin
could no longer play their natural role as intercessors.140 This fire, however,
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Saint-Bertin
was not enough to induce a long-lasting change in the community and, after
a brief period of contrition, the monks fell back again into their old sins. It
was only after a severe epidemic, which killed a good part of the community,
that the surviving monks undertook a true conversio.141 In 1046, as the church
was threatening to collapse, Bovo started his project of rebuilding a larger
sanctuary for the community, in the course of which work he found the
hidden relics of St Bertin.142 Soon after, the monks had a new shrine of gold
and topaz built for their rediscovered patron saint, who immediately
performed miracles. These included the first rains for a very long time,
allowing the withered crops to blossom and fruit.143 In his account of the
discovery of the relics Bovo put himself at center stage: he decided to rebuild
the church, he found the leaden urn, and he discovered the cross with the
name of St Bertin. He also sharply contrasted his own abbacy with the period
of spiritual and physical disintegration of the abbey during the time of his
predecessor – whom he does not blame directly. The episode of the recon-
struction and inventio confers on Bovo’s abbacy a character of renewal for
Saint-Bertin. Not only did he rebuild the physical church of St Bertin, but by
finding his true relics he also re-established his true cult. The attribution to
God’s wrath of the fire which destroyed the church contrasts with Bovo’s
own period of a new covenant between God, St Bertin, and the saint’s
community. This is inherent in the stories of inventiones: as in furta sacra, the
saints remain active in the process, they are not merely found, but rather,
they let themselves be found. Thus, the inventio is also a revelatio. Bovo’s
presentation of his role as the refounder of his abbey is, however, in contra-
diction with facts since his predecessor, Roderic, was actually the spiritual
reformer of Saint-Bertin. Indeed, in 1021, Roderic was called by Count
Baldwin from his monastery of Saint-Vaast at Arras, which had recently been
restored according to the reform of Richard of Saint-Vanne, to re-establish the
regular life at Saint-Bertin.144 It is as a reformer and a ‘studiosus imitator’ and
‘ferventissimus amator’145 of the Benedictine Rule that Roderic was remem-
bered later in the historiography of Saint-Bertin, and it is conceivable that
Bovo, facing the tough task of succeeding him, had to make the claim of being
a pious leader and refounder in his own right.
Thus, the episode of the inventio would be enough to suggest that Bovo
saw and presented himself as chosen and rewarded by St Bertin for being a
good abbot. Indeed, Bovo’s text is as much about himself as about St Bertin
and his relics, and the abbot was not shy in stating this clearly in three
passages. The first one is a comment made after the description of the fire:
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‘God, with the help of His rod, compelled the reform and punished the sins
which had to be atoned for by piety, and He administered lesser punishment
on those who were good, as was demonstrated later at the right time’.146 The
second passage is a more symbolic prefiguration of the inventio, as it relates a
monk’s vision of a magnificent man, dressed in white, who came to inspect
the monastery and blessed the place with his right hand.147 The third expres-
sion of Bovo’s election is found after a long historiographic passage referring
to a very traumatic event for the monks of Saint-Bertin: the division of the
monastery into communities of canons and Benedictine monks, imposed
shortly after 820 by Abbot Fridugis. Bovo followed most of Saint-Bertin’s
authors, regarding the separation as sinful, but he concluded by saying: ‘it
was enough that I gathered our children under my protection for the sins of
the monastery to go away and for the blessed relics, which had been hidden
in emergency, to make themselves visible’.148 The justification for this state-
ment is not clear, because since 950 the canons had their own provost, distinct
from the abbot of Saint-Bertin, although the two communities had close rela-
tions – which, as we have seen, were not always cordial; and no other source
corroborates that the situation changed during Bovo’s abbacy. In any case,
what is significant is the fact that he wanted his readers to believe that he had
in one way or another re-established some sort of unity between the monks
and the canons, and that he was therefore rewarded by St Bertin.149
Because Bovo’s finding of Bertin’s relics was questionable, he had to
provide some explanation and justification for the circumstances which made
the community ignorant of the location of the true relics for such a long time.
To do this, he resorted to the archives of Saint-Bertin and more specifically to
the vita of Folcuin of Thérouanne.150 Bovo asserts that, because the abbey was
threatened by the vikings, St Folcuin translated the relics of St Bertin and
re-buried them in 846 – Bovo and the vita Folcuini both use the word
recondidit, which means ‘to hide’, ‘to bury very deep’. Bovo’s explanation is
actually supported by the vita of Folcuin, although its author associates the
hiding of Bertin with the theft of St Omer’s relics by Abbot Hugh, who had
tried to translate them to his other abbey of Saint-Quentin. According to the
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Saint-Bertin
vita, Folcuin brought the relics of Omer back to his church and re-buried
them; three years later, he exhumed and re-buried St Bertin.151 St Omer’s
relics remained in their secret place until they, too, were discovered in 941,
but unfortunately, no narrative of this inventio has survived.152
The question of the authenticity of Bovo’s find remains, and will always
remain, unanswerable. The hiding of the relics in the ninth century and their
rediscovery in the eleventh are not implausible – although we should not
forget that the vita of St Folcuin was written more than a century after his
death. Bovo’s setting of his Relatio in a very historical context (the destruction
and rebuilding of the church, which are most likely actual events), the intro-
duction of letters and historical sources into the narrative, as well as the
participation of the author in the events, reinforce that impression of histo-
ricity. And historicity and credibility were sensible goals for an author so
anxious about the legitimization and the integrity of his text. Nevertheless,
one detail of the narrative seems inconsistent: Bovo asserts that he found the
little silver cross under St Bertin’s right shoulder, suggesting that the skeleton
was still intact.153 However, the words he used to describe the saint’s
container are scrinium, a little box, a reliquary, and urna, which suggest that it
could not contain an intact body. And indeed, Drogo of Thérouanne said in
his letter to Wido of Reims that the bones were cremated (ossa cinerati).154
Besides this inconsistency in the text, the textual tradition in which Bovo’s
inventio arises sheds light on the degree of historicity one should expect from
such a text. In her study of eleventh- and twelfth-century inventiones from
post-Conquest England, Monika Otter has stressed that the truth which these
texts embodied was essentially symbolic and that, despite the efforts of their
authors to ground their account in a familiar and historical context,
inventiones usually happened in very unlikely circumstances.155 These obser-
vations prove equally true for the earlier Continental inventiones, which is not
surprising since Otter also argues that the genre was probably brought to
England by Goscelin of Canterbury, a monk of Saint-Bertin who lived in
England from the decade preceding the Conquest to his death in the begin-
ning of the twelfth century. Regarding Goscelin, it is interesting to note that,
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as a monk of Saint Augustine’s at Canterbury from about 1090 until his death,
he was involved in the antagonism between his community and the monks of
Christ Church. He wrote in that context a good deal of polemical writing
strikingly reminiscent of the way the authors from Saint-Bertin dealt with
their own conflicts.156 This suggests that the earlier Bertinian historiographic
culture made its way through the eleventh and twelfth centuries and that
Bovo’s work should also be seen in light of its local tradition.
To go back to the inventiones and their ambiguous relationship with ‘histor-
ical truth’, a few examples can usefully be presented here. I have already
mentioned the Revelatio Sancti Stephani, which, as shown by its manuscript
tradition, was very well-known and influential in Flanders and Lotharingia.157
This story may have been a source for the Inventio Sancti Gisleni: the two texts
present narrative parallels and both the abbeys of Brogne and Saint-Ghislain
possessed an eleventh-century manuscript of the Revelatio. The Revelatio Sancti
Stephani was also known to Goscelin of Saint-Bertin, whose Inventio of St Yves
resembles the older text.158 As for St Ghislain, Anne-Marie Helvétius has
convincingly demonstrated that he never existed: he was an invention of Duke
Gislebert, who needed a pretext for founding a monastic community there, in
order to bolster his domination over the region of Hainault.159 Despite the old
pretension of Fleury to have the relics of St Benedict, their presence in France
was always fought fiercely by the monks of Monte Cassino. Other inventiones
are even more clearly the product of the unbridled medieval imagination
regarding saint cults and relics: the discovery of the skull of John the Baptist in
eleventh-century Aquitaine is only one among the multitude of highly
unlikely discoveries of relics produced by monastic communities in order to
answer their need for power, supremacy, or money.160
More than any other hagiographic texts, relic narratives and especially
inventiones lend themselves to a narrative structure which makes them look
much like historical texts, sometimes even miniature chronicles. It is remark-
able that in many cases the authors of such translations and inventions went
back, in much detail, to the origins of the monastery in which the relics were
allegedly brought or found, and to the events which made the finding
possible. However, since the historicity of these narratives is often question-
able, what really matters, both to us and to their medieval readers, is their
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Saint-Bertin
symbolic meaning: the finding or coming of new relics meant the beginning
of a new covenant between the saint and the community. It is only normal
that these texts should have created interest in the context of intensive
monastic reform and social change – in the tenth and eleventh centuries on
the Continent and after the Conquest in England. In the case of the inventio of
St Bertin, however, Bovo subverted the conventions and symbolism of the
genre in order to produce a very individual and self-serving version of the
new covenant. This is not only characteristic of the well-rooted trend to use
narratives as tools of power at Saint-Bertin, but also reveals the personality of
an author who, in quite original ways for his time, insisted so much that his
authorship be recognized for posterity.
In this regard, the legacy left by Bovo in the collective memory of Saint-
Bertin may not have met his expectations. At the time of his death, a gap
already existed between the community’s perception of the events and the
meaning Bovo tried so hard to impose on them. What was recalled in his
epitaph was not his discovery of Saint-Bertin’s relics, but his reconstruction of
the church.161 The little we know about him from sources other than his own
writing is told by Simon. It is ironic that the only passage from the Inventio of
St Bertin that Simon quoted – the story of the fire and the epidemic – was
inserted in the chapter on Bovo’s predecessor, the reformer Roderic.162
Although Simon devoted the following chapter to Bovo’s discovery of the
relics and his writing of a commentariolus attesting the regularity of the
inventio and translation, he did not put much emphasis upon an event which
was supposed to have refounded St Bertin’s true cult. Equally, he did not
emphasize Bovo’s role in the discovery, or attribute it to Bovo’s quality as a
religious leader.163 Furthermore, his tone when writing about Roderic was
clearly warmer and more enthusiastic than were the conventional words of
praise he gave to Bovo. The tepid attitude of the monastic community of
Saint-Bertin both toward Bovo and his unearthing of Saint-Bertin’s new relics
confirms the self-serving character of the facts and the text of the Relatio. It
looks as if the community not only did not need these new relics, but even
that they were superfluous. Bovo’s interpretation of the discovery as a sign of
his own election was not very appealing to the community either, all the
more so since his role as an abbot did not measure up to his own self-image.
Furthermore, the lay community, local potentates and common people alike,
remained equally cold toward the inventio. Nevertheless, they were an impor-
tant presence in Bovo’s story: before the opening of the coffin, Bovo had
invited the castellani of the town as witnesses and, since it was Saturday, the
day of the judicial court, the populace had gathered in town ‘to make fun of
161 Simon, Gesta, c. 15, p. 640: ‘Hanc fabricam primo templi fundavit ab imo; Quam
divinarum portans virtute rotarum. Rexit et erexit contraque pericula texit.’
162 Simon, Gesta, cc. 2–5, pp. 636–7.
163 Simon, Gesta, c. 12, p. 638.
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Narrative Production
the honorable people’ and did not wait long to rush to the church.164 The lay
community was of course as much concerned by St Bertin’s relics as was the
monastic community, since the good working of society as a whole, from
good weather, as shown in the ‘first rains’ miracle,165 and public health, to
peace and justice, depended on his intercession.166 Lay people and pilgrims,
as well as Saint-Bertin’s neighbors, were not passive by-standers of the cult,
and its success or failure depended on their adhesion or rejection. I have
already mentioned that the vulgus had been very skeptical of the new relics
and had pressed the ecclesiastical authorities to provide explanations and
clarify which set of bones were the proper relics. The aristocracy, who were of
course the most likely to honor the ‘true’ relics with donations, were not very
enthusiastic either. On 1 May 1052, the day of the elevation of the new relics,
Countess Adala, daughter of Robert the Pious and wife of Baldwin V of Flan-
ders, was present at the ceremony with her brother Odo and an important
escort (but not the count himself).167 According to the series of miracles that
Bovo added at the end of his story, Adala offered a shroud made of precious
fabric to wrap the relics and gave a piece of salt marsh to the monastery.168
Bovo states that the land donation was authenticated by a charter, but if it
ever existed, it is no longer among the seven surviving charters given during
Bovo’s abbacy. Furthermore, among these charters – agreements with local
lords and privileges from Count Baldwin, Emperor Henry IV and Pope
Victor II, dated from 1051 to 1063 – none is a donation to the abbey nor do
any refer to discovery of the relics (apart from the 1052 charter recording the
inventio and the elevation).169 Neither the charters nor Simon’s Gesta Abbatum
suggests that donations to Saint-Bertin increased and that the cult was
boosted in the years after the inventio. Indeed, Bovo was not even able to
finish the rebuilding of the church that he had undertaken and, at his death in
1065, the work was left unfinished, probably because of lack of financial
means.170 The legacy of Bovo’s Relatio de Inventione et Elevatione Sancti Bertini
suggests that however much the authors of relic narratives tried to historicize
their story, plausibility was not the secret of their success. In order to attract
support from the religious community as well as from the secular world, the
finding of new relics and the writing of the corresponding narrative had to be
meaningful and useful for the community itself.
We have seen that narrative production at Saint-Bertin often coincided
with situations of crisis or major transformations in the life of the community.
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Saint-Bertin
The writing of the VB2, the forged donation charter and St Omer’s privilege
cum epistola were written in the aftermath of the Benedictine restoration
imposed by Arnulf the Great and Gerard of Brogne in order to claim the
monks’ superiority and authority over the canons. The Gesta Abbatum, which
had adopted the new foundation story, was also written in order to assert
Saint-Bertin’s landholding in the face of the count of Flanders’ pervasive
attempts to control the abbey and to lay hold on its wealth. The context of
Bovo’s Relatio was not only a situation of crisis at Saint-Bertin – the commu-
nity was certainly impoverished by the destruction of its church – but also a
context of personal crisis for Abbot Bovo, who attempted to use his finding –
and his text – to assert his own authority.
It is interesting to note that the continuation of Folcuin’s Gesta Abbatum by
Simon was also written in a context of personal and institutional crises.
Indeed, at the time of its composition, the monastic community was divided
by an internal conflict between pro- and anti-Cluniac factions, in which
Simon himself was involved. Despite the Benedictine restorations of the tenth
and eleventh centuries, the monks of Saint-Bertin had remained unenthusi-
astic about strict observance of the Rule. In 1100, Abbot Lambert (1095–1125),
after an unsuccessful attempt to revive his community’s spiritual enthusiasm,
decided to submit Saint-Bertin to the authority of Cluny. This move was
violently opposed by the majority of the monks, who were extremely reluc-
tant to give up their independence.171 Lambert had to resort to force to expel
the rebellious monks.172 As always, those who remained at Sithiu and the
new recruits who joined the community were extremely enthusiastic and, for
a time, Saint-Bertin flourished under the Cluniac rule and attracted donations
from the local population.173 The anti-Cluny party – the greatest part of the
community, according to Simon – was still active, however, and at Abbot
Lambert’s death in 1125, Saint-Bertin was once again divided between two
factions.174 John (1095–1031), Lambert’s successor, steadfastly refused to
submit himself to the abbot of Cluny who ordered him to make his profession
there. Eventually, in 1131, John was publicly dismissed by the papal legate,
171 Lambert had secretly plotted Saint-Bertin’s submission to Cluny with the count and
countess of Flanders, but the monks were informed of his projects by the bishop and
canons of Thérouanne (Simon, Gesta, c. 64, p. 648); on Saint-Bertin’s Cluniac reform
and its influence in Flanders, see E. Sabbe ‘La réforme clunisienne dans le comté de
Flandre au début du XIIe siècle’ RBPH 9 (1930), 121–38, J. de Smet, ‘Quand Robert II
confia-t-il Saint-Bertin à Cluny?’, RHE 46 (1951), 160–4, and Simon, Gesta, cc. 63–70,
pp. 648–9; reactions to the Cluniac reform were not always as violent as at Saint-
Bertin, see A.-M. Helvétius, ‘Aspects de l’influence de Cluny en Basse-Lotharingie
aux XIe et XIIe siècles’ Publications de la Section Historique de l’Institut Grand-Ducal de
Luxembourg 106 (1991), 49–68.
172 Simon, Gesta, c. 66, p. 648.
173 Simon, Gesta, c. 68, p. 649.
174 Simon, Gesta, c. 115, p. 658 and cc. 126–32, pp. 660–61.
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fled to Rome after stealing one year of Saint-Bertin’s revenues and disap-
peared forever.175
His successor was Simon (1131–1136), the author of the continuation of the
Gesta Abbatum. Simon was born at Ghent and entered Saint-Bertin as an
oblate.176 ‘Very pious and well-learned’, writes one of the authors who
completed the Gesta up to the year 1187; Simon had a speaking defect. In
1123, he took over the administration of Saint-Bertin when Abbot Lambert
had to retire for health reasons, and in 1127, he became abbot of Auchy,
which was a monastery dependent on Saint-Bertin.177 Since he was from the
anti-Cluny faction, Simon refused to acknowledge the authority of the abbot
of Cluny. As a consequence, Pope Innocent II nullified his election in 1136.178
Simon returned to Ghent where he spent the last years of his life. Neverthe-
less, he died and was buried in the cemetery adjacent to Saint-Omer.179
Indeed, the anti-Cluny faction finally got the last word. In 1139, after much
further lobbying and discussion, Simon’s successor, Leon, received from
Innocent II a clear and definitive declaration of independence for Saint-
Bertin.180
Simon began his continuation at the time of Abbot Lambert, to whom he
dedicated his work, and finished it during his exile at Ghent, since his Gesta
includes his successor’s abbacy.181 Explicitly following Folcuin’s example,
Simon wrote in his prologue that he meant to write the gesta of Lambert’s
predecessors for the emulation of his successors; furthermore, he had gath-
ered the charters given by the princes and various dignitaries and the dona-
tions made by the faithful, in order to ‘avoid controversies and to perpetuate
peace’.182 Since the period covered by Simon’s Gesta goes well beyond the
period studied here, I will not further expand on it. There is, however, an
interesting comparison to make between Folcuin’s Gesta and Simon’s Gesta,
especially concerning the circumstances of their redaction. Like Folcuin,
Simon wrote for an abbot whose authority was threatened from outside – let
us remember that the authority of the acting-abbot Adalulf was challenged
by Arnulf the Great, who eventually demoted him in favor of Hildebrand.
Simon, who finished the Gesta either during his abbacy or, rather, during his
exile, was in a difficult position when he was himself abbot. It is also remark-
able that both gesta were written at a time of crisis and uncertainty following
religious reform. The parallels between the two gesta, and especially between
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Saint-Bertin
the conditions in which they were written, bolsters not only the idea that
narratives were often written in situations of crisis, but also, more specifi-
cally, that gesta, because of their multiple nature, were particularly apt to be
considered as useful narrative tools to reconstruct the past.
Conclusion
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The rumor was based on the suggestion that, when Omer’s relics were stolen
in 846 by Abbot Hugh, Bishop Folcuin had brought them back to Saint-Bertin
and not to Saint-Omer. In order to thwart the rumor, the canons commis-
sioned a third life of St Omer in which the episode of the theft and recovery of
the relics was added, making it clear that Folcuin had actually brought the
precious bones back to their place of origin.184 It was probably on this occa-
sion that the canons commissioned an illustrated life of St Omer.185 The book
was ornamented with twenty-three miniatures representing scenes from the
life of the saint interspersed throughout the text. Four scenes are particularly
noteworthy: one depicts the donation of Sithiu by Adroald to Omer;186 the
other represents the arrival of St Bertin and his companions, walking with
their heads humbly bent toward an enthroned Omer holding a crosier;187 the
third scene shows the three men embarked in the boat which led to Sithiu;188
finally, the fourth depicts Omer’s burial in St Mary’s church.189 It is clear that
all these scenes represent a direct refutation of the monks’ claims. Further-
more, the canons wrote another text asserting their possession of Omer’s
body; it is a charter, dated from the day after St Bertin’s elevation, contending
that the archbishop of Reims came to Saint-Omer’s church and publicly
displayed his body.190 The monks, who were present during the elevation,
albeit with reluctance according to the charter, signed it too. Whether or not
this document and the facts it records are authentic, its shows that the canons
felt pressured to defend the possession of their relics.
Unfortunately, the precaution was not enough to silence the monks’ claim
to St Omer’s relics and, for the remaining centuries, strife over their posses-
sion kept the two communities constantly bickering. Interestingly, the attacks
almost always came from the monks, who relentlessly put faith in the same
claims over and over again. In the same way, the most dubious texts and
charters displayed in the debates were mostly manufactured by the
Benedictines. The open conflict over Omer’s body started in 1324, when the
abbot of Saint-Bertin announced publicly that the relics of the mysterious
saint buried with St Bertin were actually St Omer’s.191 The canons contested
184 VA3 (BHL 767b–768), AA SS, 3 Sept., pp. 406–16, episode at p. 414.
185 S-O, MS 698; on the manuscript, see R. Argent Svoboda, The Illustrations of the Life of
St. Omer.
186 S-O, MS 698, fol. 15v.
187 S-O, MS 698, fol. 17v.
188 S-O, MS 698, fol. 18.
189 S-O, MS 698, fol. 28.
190 J. de Pas, ‘Charte de reconnaissance du corps de St. Omer par l’archevêque de
Rheims’, BSAM 14 (1922–1929), 125–8.
191 Saint-Omer, Archives Départementales, 2G, Liasses 215–16. On the conflicts
between Saint-Bertin and Saint-Omer in general, see A. Hermand, ‘Recherches sur
la question d’antériorité et de paternité entre les deux monastères primitifs de la
ville de Saint-Omer’, MSAM 9 (1851), 49–192, and O. Bled, ‘Abbatiale et Collégiale.
Les reliques de St. Omer et les reliques de St. Bertin’, MSAM 32 (1914–1920), 5–110.
91
Saint-Bertin
the ‘discovery’ and exhibited their own relics; a succession of claims and
counter-claims, exhibitions and processions of Saint-Omer’s legitimate and
illegitimate relics ensued for more than 150 years. In 1465, the situation was
so heated that the canons brought their case to the Parlement. But the abbot of
Saint-Bertin at the time was an influential figure, and the king’s representa-
tive was not eager to pass a judgment which could have only been unfavor-
able to the abbey. However, tensions between the two opponents were rising
to the point that processions became the occasion of altercations and even
brawls. The necessity for maintaining public order in the city required a deci-
sion from the Parlement.192 It took thirty years of deliberations, but the issue
was facilitated by the election in 1495 of a new provost for the canons. The
illegitimate son of the duke of Burgundy, he was strong enough to counter-
balance the abbot’s connections with the French king. The Parlement’s deci-
sion was not only slow to come, but it was not very bold, since it was decided
to let the two great figures make a deal outside the court. According to the
arrangement, the monks of Saint-Bertin could no longer display St Omer’s
name on the shrine that they carried during general processions.193
Surprisingly enough, the ‘concordat’ was respected and no further claims
to St Omer’s relics were made by the monastic community until the eight-
eenth century. Indeed, during these years the monks were preoccupied with
fighting the canons of Saint-Omer over precedence during religious proces-
sions. Based on the principle that Bertin was the founder of Sithiu and its first
abbot, the contention over precedence was still unresolved when the Revolu-
tionary troops expelled the monks from their abbey. In the thirteenth century,
the abbots appropriated the episcopal right to wear the miter and carry the
cross. However, it was not a crucial issue until the chapter of Saint-Omer
became an episcopal see in 1559. The promotion of their perpetual enemies
re-opened the monks’ old wounds, while the canons, empowered by their
advancement, were eager to receive due honors.
The legal battle over the question of anteriority and supremacy required
the intervention of Pope Clement VIII,194 of Chamillart, secretary of state for
war under Louis XIV, and of Louis XIV himself, as he ordered Chamillart to
resort to any means, even force, to restrain the unruly abbot of Saint-Bertin.195
Besides the intervention of major historical figures, this pathetic provincial
struggle exhausted Saint-Bertin’s wealth, and in 1734, the abbot of Saint-
Bertin had to admit that legal fees and the publication of innumerable
pamphlets on the controversy had seriously endangered the financial situa-
tion of his monastery.196
92
Narrative Production
In the course of the different trials, both parties were careful to submit
relevant documents backing their affirmations. Invariably, the canons would
present their manuscripts containing the Vita Prima of their patron saint or
texts derived form this version, showing that the original donation had be
given first to Omer. The monks would bring the texts of the VB2, Folcuin’s
Gesta and the various charters already mentioned. Both sides tried to use the
vita of Bishop Folcuin to prove that Omer’s body was brought back either to
his own church or to Saint-Bertin. However, if the monks were willing to
introduce their own texts in the debate, they were reluctant to show original
manuscripts; it seems that their tactic was to copy useful excerpts from their
medieval manuscripts and take them to court. Of course, this raised the
canons’ skepticism, especially concerning the charters and the Gesta Abbatum
Sithiensium. In 1735, the lawyer for the chapter suggested that the donation
charters of Omer and Adroald and the charter of Bishop Folcuin were forg-
eries made only thirty years earlier.197 Canon de Rudder, who in 1754
published a whole treatise on the anteriority of Saint-Omer over Saint-Bertin,
went as far as saying that Folcuin’s Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium was a forgery
and that Folcuin himself was an invention.198
Because of the continuation of the conflict throughout the Early Modern
period, Folcuin’s Gesta was a text cherished by successive generations of
monks who repeatedly copied it until the eighteenth century. A very old copy
of the Gesta, which may have been Folcuin’s autograph, survived in Saint-
Bertin’s archives until the French Revolution: it was known as the Vetus
Folcuinus. This manuscript has now disappeared, but it was copied by Joseph
Dewitte, the last archivist of the abbey, before the Revolution (SO 815). Joseph
Dewitte’s copy of the Gesta was not the first one. Folcuin’s text had been
copied in the twelfth century together with its continuation (BSM 146 and
146a). Between 1509 and 1512, the monk Alard Tassard made a partial copy of
the Gesta, following the Vetus Folcuinus (SO 750). In 1693, Bertin Portebois
made yet another copy from the Vetus Folcuinus and the twelfth-century
manuscript (Paris, BN, MS Latin, nouv. acq. 275). These successive copies of
the Gesta tell enough about the importance accorded to the text by the
community of Saint-Bertin. It is all the more striking that the monks were
very secretive with their archives – as experienced by Mabillon himself –
which means that all these copies were certainly not made for an outside
197 Me Poitevin, Mémoire sommaire pour les doyen, chanoines et chapitre de l’église cathédrale
de Saint-Omer, parties intervenantes dans l’instance pendante au conseil (n.p., 1835), p.
12.
198 Ch. de Rudder, La vérité de L’église de Saint-Omer et son antériorité sur l’abbaye de
Saint-Bertin ou réfutation de la Dissertation Historique et Critique sur l’Origine et
l’Ancienneté de l’Abbaye de Saint-Bertin (Paris, 1754), pp. 24–5; it is a reply to a work
commissioned by the monks: Dissertation Historique et Critique sur l’Origine et
l’Ancienneté de l’Abbaye de Saint-Bertin et sur la Supériorité qu’Elle Avait autrefois sur
l’Église de Saint-Omer (Paris, 1737).
93
Saint-Bertin
public. If the Gesta was copied so many times, it is because it was still used in
the Early Modern period, probably in matters of landholding and certainly in
the context of the conflict between monks and canons.
The canons who charged that Folcuin was born of the monks’ imagination
and that the Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium was a forgery aimed only at satisfying
the monks’ inflated ego undoubtedly pushed source criticism a bit too far.
Nevertheless, we have serious reasons to consider with much care and even
distrust the archival legacy left by the monks of Saint-Bertin. While we can
take for granted that the monk Folcuin wrote his Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium in
962 and that a copy of it was made in the twelfth century, the circumstances
of the conservation of Saint-Bertin’s archives should make us cautious about
believing they are trustworthy. Indeed, the religious community spent most
of its life endlessly discussing and reinventing its past in order to win a battle
whose roots dated back to the earliest part of its existence. The evidence left
to the modern historian are layers of forgeries, invented narratives and subtle
omissions built up over nine hundred years. Furthermore, we owe what is
left today of Saint-Bertin’s charters to their last archivist, Joseph Dewitte, who
spent most of his life collecting and copying all the documents kept in the
archives of his abbey from the foundation to his own time.199 Besides his copy
of Folcuin’s Gesta, he gathered all the charters from Saint-Bertin in his
twelve-volume Grand Cartulaire. The originals of the charters were destroyed
during the French Revolution and only Dewitte’s copies survive. This is a
serious problem since Dewitte’s own objectivity is doubtful: he was the first
monk, for more than two centuries after the ‘concordat’, to claim once again
that Saint-Bertin, indeed, possessed the relics of St Omer.200
94
PART II
WITH THE STUDY of Saint-Bertin we have seen how one monastic commu-
nity selectively preserved, used and altered its archives and historiographic
narratives and created new ones so as to make its past useful for present
needs. Moreover, from Folcuin’s Gesta to Simon’s Gesta, it is clear that the
community almost continuously – save for the sixty-year gap between the
two gesta – kept archives and produced new narratives based on local
historiographic tradition. In this process, the foundation story of Sithiu
stands out as the main period of the community’s past that was most
frequently used and transformed. Because of the abundance of sources
produced at Saint-Bertin, and because their main rivals, the canons of
Saint-Omer, preserved the original foundation story, it is possible to recon-
struct how and why the monks adjusted their past by means of these new
narratives and forged charters.
In a number of ways, the case of the abbey of Marchiennes is radically
different from that of Saint-Bertin. In comparison with the renowned and
wealthy Saint-Bertin, Marchiennes was a modest community, struggling in the
shadow of its powerful neighbor, Saint-Amand. Unlike Saint-Bertin, there is no
sign of Marchiennes’ archives until the eleventh century. Indeed, by the early
tenth century, because of neglect or destruction, Marchiennes’ archives had
disappeared and the cults and legends of the community’s saints had fallen
into oblivion. Despite the lack of written evidence, Hucbald of Saint-Amand,
who wrote the life of Marchiennes’ patron saint, Rictrude, at the beginning of
the tenth century, was able, thanks to oral tradition and a good deal of ‘imagi-
native memory’, to piece together a remarkably detailed foundation story of
Marchiennes. This seminal text of Marchiennes’ historiography cannot be
compared to other contemporary sources; therefore, the circumstances and the
purpose of its redaction can only be inferred from the text itself. The Vita
Rictrudis not only fulfilled the community’s basic needs for a liturgical text
upon which the cult of its saints could be based, but it also emphasized the
95
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
community’s secular and spiritual prestige by associating the saint and her
family with a number of prestigious lay and religious people of her time.
Because the Vita Rictrudis introduces a great number of secondary charac-
ters, and because it could not be contradicted by other texts, later authors
were left free to appropriate the legend and adapt it to their needs. Hence, in
the course of the tenth and eleventh centuries, most of Rictrude’s children,
who were saints in their own right, were given their own vitae based on the
Vita Rictrudis. Furthermore, from the eleventh century onward, the core of
the legend itself was considerably altered in order to sacralize the commu-
nity’s landholding and to protect it from predatory lay neighbors. Finally,
some time in the tenth century, the relics of Rictrude’s son, Maurontus, and
their friend’s St Amatus, were translated to the chapter church of Douai. The
translation of the saints, who were originally part of the legend of Rictrude
and Marchiennes, generated the appropriation of the Vita Rictrudis by the
canons of Saint-Amé. In their own foundation story, written in the eleventh
century, the canons integrated the sections of the vita that were relevant for
the legend of their tutelary saints and transformed them according to their
own needs – namely the legitimization of their landholding.
Therefore, over two centuries, Rictrude’s legend grew from oral tradition
to the Vita Rictrudis, and then into a complex narrative cycle, composed not
only of hagiographic texts, but also of charters and entries in annals and
chronicles. The first chapter of this section (Chapter 4) will examine the
formation and transformations of Rictrude’s legend at Marchiennes itself.
The second chapter (Chapter 5) will deal with the transformation of the orig-
inal story, yet again, by an entirely different community, the chapter of
Saint-Amé.
96
CHAPTER FOUR
Introduction1
The abbey of Marchiennes (dep. Nord, arr. Douai) was founded around 640
by St Amand in the context of his mission to the Scarpe region. It was located
on the bank of the river Scarpe, a few miles from Saint-Amand.2 The founda-
tion story of the abbey is related in the vita of its patron saint, Rictrude, who,
at the death of her husband Adalbald, entered Marchiennes and became
abbess.3 The abbey may have been built on land that belonged to her
husband’s patrimony, as was the case for its close neighbor, Hamage. The
history of Marchiennes from its foundation to its restoration in 1024 is,
however, obscure because of the scarcity of sources. The overall impression
left by the few remaining documents related to Marchiennes is that of a
low-profile community, living in the shadow of Saint-Amand, which never
fully recovered from the ninth-century secularization and the vikings’ depre-
dations. The abbey of Marchiennes only really took off after the 1024 restora-
tion, which transformed the hitherto mixed community into an exclusively
male one. The restoration initiated a period of artistic and intellectual activity
as well as an intense operation of recovery of spoiled assets.
1 A concise version of this chapter has been published: K. Ugé, ‘The Legend of Saint
Rictrude: Formation and Transformation (Tenth–Twelfth Century)’, in Anglo-
Norman Studies 23 (2001), 281–9.
2 There is no comprehensive study of Marchiennes; see the notice by H. Platelle,
‘Marchiennes’, in Catholicisme, Hier, Aujourd’hui, Demain 8 (Paris, 1979), cols. 414–16.
3 Vita Rictrudis (BHL 7247). There are three different editions of VR: AA SS, 3 May, pp.
81–9, PL 132, cols. 829–48, and ASB 4, ed. J. Ghesquière (Brussels, 1787), pp. 488–503;
each edition is in some ways lacunary and, unless otherwise signaled, I have used the
ASB edition; for the prologue alone, see Vita Rictrudis Prologus, ed. W. Levison, MGH
SRM 6 (Hanover, 1913), pp. 91–4; VR is translated into English by J. Alborg and J. A.
McNamara, Sainted Women of the Dark Ages (Durham, 1992), pp. 195–219. On
Hucbald’s hagiographical writings, see J. M. H. Smith, ‘The Hagiography of Hucbald
of Saint-Amand’, Studi Medievali 3rd series, 36 (1994), 517–42; J. M. H. Smith, ‘A Hagi-
ographer at Work: Hucbald and the Library at Saint-Amand’, RB 106 (1996), 151–71,
and H. Platelle, ‘Le thème de la conversion à travers les oeuvres hagiographiques
d’Hucbald de Saint-Amand’, RN 68 (1986), 511–31.
97
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
4 Milo, Vita Amandi Episcopi Secunda (Suppletio Milonis) (BHL 333), ed. B. Krusch, MGH
SRM 5 (Hanover, 1910), c. 1, pp. 450–1; on the Suppletio Milonis, see E. de Moreau,
Saint Amand, apôtre de la Belgique et du nord de la France (Louvain, 1927), pp. 52–62.
5 Vita Amandi Episcopi Prima (VAm) (BHL 332), ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM 5 (Hanover,
1910), pp. 428–49 (c. 22, p. 445).
98
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
Saint-Bavo.6 Regarding Barisis, two charters dated 663 and 666 record respec-
tively the donation of the villa by King Childeric II and Amand’s donation of
the same villa to the monks.7 As for Marchiennes – as well as for Leuze and
Renaix – Milo’s text represents the earliest testimony of the community’s
existence and of the role played by Amand in its foundation.8 Still,
Marchiennes’ proximity to Elnon makes it conceivable that both monasteries
were the product of the same mission.
Although Marchiennes was founded in the seventh century, the earliest
account of its foundation is preserved in the VR. As we shall see, Hucbald’s
fairly detailed relation of Rictrude’s life and of the foundation of
Marchiennes, appears to rely on very fragmentary, perhaps even doubtful,
sources. Hucbald dedicated the VR to Bishop Stephen of Liège, who had
insisted that the author sign and date his text, as it was requested from
scholastici.9 The actual patrons of the VR were, however, the clerics and nuns
from Marchiennes, who had petitioned Hucbald to write the life of their
patron saint. Hucbald had first declined the offer, both because he had never
heard anything about the life of the saint, and because all written documents
were alleged to have disappeared when the abbey was destroyed by vikings
(c. 881–883).10 Eventually, the clerics and nuns found scattered fragments of
6 VAm, cc. 13–15, pp. 436–9; on the foundation of Saint-Peter and Saint-Bavo, see most
recently G. Declercq, ‘Heiligen, lekenabten en hervormers’, and Declercq and
Verhulst, ‘Early Medieval Ghent’, with a bibliography.
7 Childeric’s charter is published in Diplomata Regum Francorum ex Stirpe Merowingica.
Diplomata Maiorum Domus Regia. Diplomata Spuria, ed. K. Pertz, MGH (Hanover,
1872), n. 25, pp. 25–6, and Amand’s charter in Diplomata, ed. J.-M. Pardessus, II, pp.
133–4; see de Moreau, St Amand, pp. 227–9.
8 On Leuze and Renaix, see J. Nazet, ‘Antoing et Leuze: fondations monastiques de
Saint Amand?’, in Centenaire du Séminaire d’Histoire Médiévale de l’Université Libre de
Bruxelles, ed. G. Despy (Brussels, 1977), pp. 9–19, and J. Nazet, ‘Crises et réformes
dans les abbayes hainuyères du IXe au début du XIIe siècle’, in Recueil d’études
d’histoire Hainuyère offertes à Maurice-A. Arnould, ed. J.-M. Cauchies and J.-M.
Duvosquel (Mons, 1983), pp. 461–96 (pp. 465–6).
9 VR Prologus, p. 93. Marchiennes was originally located in the territory of the bish-
opric of Tournai, but in the middle of the eighth century it was included in the bish-
opric of Cambrai; as bishop of Liège, Stephen was considered a successor of St
Amand, who was bishop of Maastricht from 648/649 to 651/652. On the bishopric of
Liège, its different sees and its bishops in the early Middle Ages, see J.-L. Kupper,
‘Leodium’, in Series Episcoporum Ecclesiae Catholicae Occidentalis, Series V: Germaniae
(Stuttgart, 1982) I: Archiepiscopatus Coloniensis, pp. 43–83 (pp. 60–1 for Stephen); see
also idem, ‘La geste des pontifes de l’Église de Tongres, Maastricht ou Liège’, in Liège.
Autour de l’an mil, la naissance d’une principauté (Xe–XIIe siècle) (Liège, 2000), pp.
15–19, and idem, ‘Liste simplifiée des évêques de Tongres-Maastricht-Liège, depuis
les origines jusqu’en 1200’, in ibid., p. 21.
10 VR Prologus, p. 93; the Annales Vedastini, ed. B. de Simpson, in Annales Xantenses et
Vedastini, MGH SRG (Hanover, 1909), pp. 41–82 (p. 48) mention that the vikings
plundered the banks of the river Scarpe in 881 and the Annales Elnonenses, ed. Ph.
Grierson, in Les Annales de Saint-Pierre de Gand et de Saint-Amand, pp. 132–175 (p. 147)
99
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
texts and presented them to Hucbald, who eventually accepted the commis-
sion, after verifying that they matched the testimony of sworn witnesses, old
enough to have seen the full texts.11 The VR remains the only witness to the
early years of the community; hence, despite the improbable origin of its
sources, it is essential, as a first step, in understanding narrative production
at Marchiennes. A careful examination of the text, of the circumstances of its
redaction and of Hucbald’s narrative technique will then help to identify the
most dubious elements of the legend.
mention another viking attack on Saint-Amand in 883; Marchiennes may have been
attacked by the intruders at the same time, but the extent of the destruction is, of
course, not measurable; the reference to the vikings was a frequent topos in ninth-
and tenth-century historiography to justify the lack of evidence on the past of
monastic communities.
11 VR Prologus, p. 93.
12 VR, c. 5, p. 490.
13 VR, c. 9, p. 492.
14 VR, cc. 5–9, pp. 490–2; S. Lebecq, Les origines franques, Ve–IXe siècle, Nouvelle Histoire
de la France Médiévale 1 (Paris, 1990), pp. 126–8.
15 VR, c. 9, p. 492.
16 VR, cc. 6–8, pp. 491–2; Hucbald found the story of Amand’s peregrination among the
Vascons in VAm; however, in VAm this episode comes later in Amand’s life, after his
mission at Caloo and after his episcopate at Maastricht (648/649–651/652). It is
presented as his last journey outside northern Francia: see de Moreau, St Amand, pp.
144–5 and 207–8. On the dates of Amand’s episcopate, see A. Dierkens, ‘Saint Amand
et la fondation de l’abbaye de Nivelles’, RN 68 (1986), 325–34.
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St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
Locum vero ubi spiritualibus daret operam exercitiis, cum consilio et auxilio
saepe dicti Praesulis, qui eidem erat a secretis, elegit valde congruum,
monasterium scilicet Martianas vocatum, quod ab eodem Pontifice super
fluvium Scarb fuerat constructum. Cui perficiendo et ordinando idem
Praesul discipulum suum praefecerat Abbatem S Jonatum, venerabilem
virum, cujus adhuc in eodem monasterio sacrum corpus habetur reconditum.
In quo et monachorum ordinem B Amandus haberi voluit: sed jam dictus
abbas Jonatus sanctimoniales, pro ut sibi visum fuerat, aggregavit.21
(Then, she chose a fitting place, a monastery called Marchiennes, which the
same pontiff had built on the river Scarpe, where she might carry out her spir-
itual exercises, with the prelate’s advice and help in private counsel. The pre-
17 VR, c. 10, p. 493; nothing is said about Adalsind, who died at Marchiennes on a
Christmas Eve during her mother’s abbacy.
18 VR, c. 11, p. 493.
19 Since Hucbald describes at length Amand’s activities in Gascony, it would be
tempting to imagine that the saint had already met Rictrude in her fatherland;
Hucbald, however, does not explicitly make this connection. On the significance of
the consecrated veil, see A.-M. Helvétius, ‘Virgo et virago: réflexions sur le pouvoir
du voile consacré d’après les sources hagiographiques de la Gaule du Nord’, in
Femmes et pouvoir des femmes à Byzance et en Occident (VIe–XIe siècles), ed. S. Lebecq, A.
Dierkens, R. LeJan and J.-M. Sansterre (Lille 1999), pp 189–203.
20 VR, c. 14, p. 495.
21 VR, c. 16, p. 496.
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The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
late had assigned his venerable disciple Jonatus, whose holy body is still
resting in that monastery, as abbot for its completion and ordering. For
Blessed Amand had intended to install an order of monks there: but the abbot
gathered nuns instead as had been shown to him.22)
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St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
Although the purpose of the nightly visits was obviously pious – Eusebia
used to bring her prayer book and her harp with her and celebrated the vigils
and offices of the hours – Rictrude’s anger when she heard of her daughter’s
escapades was terrifying. Unable to convince her with words, the mother
resolved to resort to physical punishment. The correction was entrusted to
Eusebia’s brother, Maurontus, who took his role so much to heart that
Eusebia barely survived the beating. Indeed, while her brother was energeti-
cally whipping her, she fell on the sword of one of the acolytes who were
holding her. The wound was so serious that for the remainder of her short
life, she kept spitting blood and pus.25 Eusebia’s determination was, how-
ever, not yet curbed. Abbots, bishops and local potentates vainly tried to
convince her to give up Hamage and to stay with her mother. Finally, the
holy men acknowledged their failure to convince her and, eventually, they
advised Rictrude to let her go back to Hamage. Eusebia took Gertrude’s relics
with her, gathered her community and returned to her beloved monastery.
Maurontus’s beating must have been efficient since, once at Hamage, God
recalled her to his side, and she died, still an adolescent, on 16 March.26
Eusebia’s punishment must have been considered problematic by the
legend’s audience because Hucbald felt compelled to answer ‘those who
would slander the righteous with forked tongues and misplaced pride’, and
who questioned the sanctity of such violent characters.27 As a good theolo-
gian, Hucbald was able to reconcile all the points of view and confirm the
sanctity of all the protagonists.28
Maurontus was Rictrude’s eldest child and only son; he started his career
as a soldier at the king’s court and even contracted a marriage. He soon left
his wife, however, to become a monk and was tonsured at Marchiennes by St
Amand, after a bee had circled his head three times as a sign of election.29
Once tonsured by Amand, Maurontus founded a monastery at Breuil-sur-
Lys, today Merville (Nord, arr. Douai), which was also part of his family’s
patrimony.30 Breuil is an important place within St Rictrude’s legend, because
St Amatus, bishop of Sion in exile, remained in the monastery as a prisoner
under Maurontus’s guardianship.31 According to the VR, Amatus had been
103
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
‘unfairly accused of treason by King Theoderic III’ (675–691), who sent him to
Péronne under Abbot Ultan’s custody.32 Indeed, the re-establishment of
Theoderic III in Neustria and Burgundy in 675, and the subsequent return to
power of the Neustrian maior Ebroin, induced troubles and revolts in
Burgundy. Amatus may have been among the bishops – such as Filibert of
Jumièges and Chramnelenus of Embrun – who, as partisans of St Leodegar,
were exiled at the time of his arrest and martyred at the hand of Ebroin (c.
678–679).33 At Ultan’s death (at an unknown date), Amatus’s surveillance
was entrusted to Maurontus, who kept him in his monastery of Breuil.
Amatus’s personality will always remain elusive: the VR is the only source
that mentions him; moreover, the history of his diocese in these remote times
is a blank.34 The name of Sion itself must have puzzled the scribes who
copied the VR, since some of them made him bishop of Sens (episcopus
Senonensis) instead of bishop of Sion (episcopus Sedunensis). There is no doubt,
however, that Hucbald originally meant Sion: not only is there no place for
Amatus in the list of the bishops of Sens, but also, as demonstrated by
François Dolbeau, the oldest manuscripts of the VR and of the Vita Amati
Longior (VAL) agree on Sedunensis.35 Furthermore, the identity of Amatus was
probably unclear to Hucbald himself, since in the VR, he gave 13 September
as Amatus of Sion’s feast day, which is also the feast of St Amatus of
Remiremont.36
Despite the apparent paucity of sources he had access to when he wrote
the VR, Hucbald also composed a life of St Amatus, the so-called Vita Amati
Longior (VAL). He added a few details about Amatus’s life which he had not
inserted in his oldest text.37 First of all, the VAL recounts a miracle performed
at Cambrai by Amatus on his way from Péronne to Breuil – he hung his coat
on a sun ray. This miracle emphasizes the sanctity of Amatus, who came to
Breuil in a humiliating position, and helps to justify the holy status that he
would acquire at Marchiennes.38 More interesting is the information that
Amatus stayed at Hamage for a time before going to Breuil, which suggests
104
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
105
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
who wished her to marry one of his men was Dagobert, her decision to enter
the convent had to be taken by 639, which implies that Rictrude could have
entered Marchiennes in the early 640s. However, we cannot rule out that the
king could have been Clovis II (born in 634); in this case, the episode of the
dinner at Boiry should be pushed forward by at least ten years and Rictrude
would then have entered Marchiennes around 650. Both possibilities are
compatible with the date of death of Rictrude’s husband, Adalbald; indeed,
Adalbald died after 633 – the earliest possible date for his fourth child’s birth.
As for the date of Rictrude’s death, it is as obscure as the other chronological
elements of her biography. She must have been at least twelve years old
when she married Adalbald (c. 629–632), which places her birth in 617 at the
latest; according to the VR, Rictrude was seventy-four years old when she
died, which gives a terminus ante quem of 691 for her death.43 The VAL implies
that she was still alive when Amatus arrived at Hamage, which means that
she was still alive after 676.44 This element confirms the credibility of
Hucbald’s chronology, but, unfortunately, it does not give much precision in
terms of exact dates.
The foundation date of Marchiennes is as nebulous as Rictrude’s date of
entry as head of the community. Since Marchiennes and Elnon are so close to
each other, it is possible that both were founded at about the same period.
Since the VAm, which is the main source for St Amand’s activities, does not
mention Marchiennes among Amand’s foundations, only the foundation of
Elnon could yield information.
His ita peractis, isdem vir domini Amandus in finibus remeavit Francorum
elegitque sibi locum praedicationis aptum, in quo cum fratribus . . .
aedificabat coenobium.45
(Having done this [his mission with the Gascons], Amand came back in the
Frankish kingdom and elected a place suitable for his predication. With his
brothers . . . he undertook to build a monastery.)
The chapter of the VAm regarding the foundation (c. 22) comes after the
passage about the three years of Amand’s episcopate at Maastricht and his
subsequent renunciation to his title (c. 18). Amand’s episcopate is now safely
dated: it started at the end of 648 or the beginning of 649 and ended at the end
of 651 or the beginning of 652.46 The chapter immediately preceding the foun-
106
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
47 Elnon would have been founded on land given by Dagobert (629–39) to Amand, but
really would have started as a monastic community after Amand’s episcopate; see
Platelle, Le temporel, pp. 35–6.
48 Jonas of Bobbio, Vita Columbani, p. 62; on the identity of Jonas-Jonatus, see Pagani,
‘Ionas-Ionatus’.
49 Pagani, ‘Ionas-Ionatus’, pp. 76–85.
50 Pagani, ‘Ionas-Ionatus’, pp. 82–5.
51 Hucbald also wrote a vita of St Jonatus, which unfortunately does not provide any
107
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
light on the issue; the Vita Jonati (BHL 4447) is partially published in AA SS, 1 Aug.,
pp. 70–4; this edition has to be read with Codicum Hagiographicorum II, pp. 273–5; see
Dolbeau, ‘Le dossier de St Amé’, p. 93. The last chapter of the Vita Jonati (BHL 4448)
also relates the invention of SS Rictrude, Maurontus and Jonas at the time of abbess
Judith; it is possible, however, that this paragraph does not belong to Hucbald’s orig-
inal text: in VR, he seemed unsure of the location of the relics; furthermore, an abbess
Judith is mentioned in a charter dated 975.
52 Annales Marchianenses, ed. L. Bethmann, MGH SS 16 (Hanover, 1859), a. 610, p. 610
(addition by a thirteenth-century hand); S. Vanderputten, ‘Compilation et reinven-
tion à la fin du douzième siècle. André de Marchiennes, le Chronicon Marcianense et
l’histoire primitive d’une abbaye bénédictine’, Sacris Erudiri 42 (2003), 403–36 (p. 420)
(further quoted as Chronicon Marcianense); Andrew of Marchiennes, Historia Succinta
de Gestis et Successione Regum Francorum, ed. R. de Beauchamps (Douai, 1633), p. 618.
53 Annales Marchianenses, a. 641, p. 610.
54 Annales Marchianenses, a. 688, p. 610.
108
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
109
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
Noverint ergo tam futuri quam presentes quod sicut predecessores principes
Karolus videlicet magnus imperator et Lotharius rex, possessiones
Marcianensis ecclesie . . . ita mihi et uxori mee Adele comitisse . . . placuit
confirmare.60
(To those present and to come, know that like my predecessor, the princes
Charles, great emperor and Lothar, king, it has pleased me and my wife
Countess Adala, to confirm the possessions of the monastery of
Marchiennes.)
58 Recueil des Actes de Charles le Chauve, II, no. 435, pp. 472–3; despite his remarks,
Tessier believes that the charter is genuine; one of his arguments is that it was made
on the same model as a charter given by Charles on the same day for Hasnon (Recueil
des actes de Charles le Chauve, II, no. 436, pp. 475–7). It is notable that the same formal
ambiguity – the use of a terminology appropriate for a donation in a confirmation
charter – is also found in other charters from Charles’ chancery, notably in a charter
for Saint-Bertin: see Van Caenegem, ‘Le diplôme de Charles le Chauve du 20 juin 877
pour l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin’, and idem, ‘Note sur la date de la donation de Charles
le Chauve pour l’abbaye de Saint-Bertin’, in Miscellanea Mediaevalia in Memoriam Jan
Frederik Niermeyer, pp. 71–7.
59 Recueil des actes de Charles le Chauve, II, no. 435, p. 473.
60 This charter is published in L’Histoire-Polyptyqye de l’abbaye de Marchiennes
(1116–1121), ed. B. Delmaire (Louvain-la-Neuve, 1985), pp. 97–9.
61 Recueil des Actes de Lothaire et de Louis V, rois de France (954–987), ed. L. Halphen (Paris,
110
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
1908), pp. 93–4; this charter mentions the name of Abbess Judith; on the verso an
eleventh-century hand has copied the text of a donation allegedly made by Judith to
two men of the abbey (published by Le Glay, Mémoire sur les archives de Marchiennes
(Douai, 1854), p. 31, n. 4), but this text is suspect.
62 Recueil des Actes de Charles le Chauve, II, no. 435, p. 474: ‘De villa namque Viriniaco
jubemus tres partes fieri de vino, unam partem ad opus senioris, alteram quoque ad
usus sororum ac fratrum in Marcianis consistentium, tertiam quidem ad opus sororum
ac fratrum in Hamatico degentium . . .’. The wine from Vregny is the only revenue
specifically attributed to Hamage. This suggests that the two communities probably
shared the same abbess or, at least that Hamage was subordinated to Marchiennes;
see Louis, ‘Aux débuts du monachisme’, p. 846.
63 Louis, ‘Aux débuts du monachisme’, pp. 849–54.
64 Jonas of Bobbio, Vita S. Eusebiae (BHL 2736), ed. de Ghesquière, ASB 4, c. 13, p. 563.
111
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
erected during the eighth century. Finally, the monastery was reconfigured in
the ninth century and a cloister was built.
After the end of the ninth century, no new buildings were erected and the
excavations suggest that the monastery of Hamage was deserted and the site
assigned to agriculture until the twelfth century.65 It is likely that the commu-
nity never recovered from the viking incursions and that the few monks and
nuns who were still living there were incorporated within the Marchiennes
community. Indeed, according to the polyptych of Marchiennes, Eusebia’s
relics were translated from Hamage to Marchiennes at an undetermined
period.66 It appears that, under Abbot Fulcard, Hamage was deserted. It is
possible that Hamage had become a simple priory at the time of the restora-
tion of Marchiennes in 1024.67 It was not until the abbot of Marchiennes
restored Saint-Mary’s in 1133 that Hamage was again the locus of a monastic
community.68
The restoration
We have seen that the last decades of the tenth century and the first decade of
the eleventh century were a troubled period for the county of Flanders.
Arnulf II (965–988) had lost control of Ternois and Boulonnais, and the local
aristocracy had taken advantage of the count’s young age to assert their own
authority and to usurp monastic lands which had hitherto been ‘protected’ by
the counts. Arnulf II’s son, Baldwin IV (988–1035), was able, in a few decades,
to regain the main part of the lost territories and to re-establish comital
authority all over the county. Once his authority was secured, Baldwin
undertook a major operation of monastic restoration throughout his territory.
Indeed, he was eager to regain control over the monastic lands seized by local
petty lords, who had instituted themselves as the advocates of these commu-
nities. Furthermore, the effects of the reform promoted by Arnulf I and
Gerald of Brogne had been short-lived.69 With the collaboration of Richard of
Saint-Vanne and Bishop Gerard I of Cambrai (1012–1051), Baldwin attempted
112
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
to impose the Rule in all his monasteries.70 In this context, Marchiennes was
reformed in 1024 by Abbot Leduinus of Saint-Vaast, a disciple of Richard,
and turned into an all-male community. According to the notice in the Gesta
of the bishops of Cambrai, the restoration had been made necessary by the
long period of decline and impoverishment attributed to the nuns’ worldli-
ness and poor management – the usual pretext used to expel women from
monastic houses and replace them with men.71 The same notice seems to
suggest that, at the time, Marchiennes was exclusively occupied by nuns.72
The new church was dedicated in 1026 by Gerard of Cambrai.73
It seems that during the first decades following the restoration by
Leduinus, Marchiennes remained closely associated with Saint-Vaast;
indeed, the five abbots who succeeded Leduinus from 1033 to 1091 were
former monks of that abbey.74 Little is known of the activity of the new
community during the eleventh century; nevertheless, it is likely that one of
the major tasks of the abbots was the recovery of alienated lands. We have
seen that the restitution of lands which had been seized by local lords and the
reconstruction of monastic buildings were an important part of Richard of
Saint-Vanne’s reform. In 1046, Baldwin V gave the new community of
Marchiennes a charter confirming its rights and possessions.75 The written
sources on which Marchiennes could rely to assert its property rights were
probably painfully scarce. We have seen that Hucbald could barely find any
written documents about Rictrude when he composed her vita, allegedly
because of the viking destruction, and Charles the Bald’s 877 charter
recording the revenues earmarked for the use of the monastic community
was probably the only written evidence of Marchiennes’ past wealth. One can
imagine that the restoration and Baldwin IV’s patronage had given good
momentum to the process of land recovery. In order to ensure their defense,
the community of Marchiennes asked his successor, Baldwin V the Bearded
113
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
114
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
Paradoxically, our author does not mention charters among his sources,
although he directly quoted from the 1038 charter setting the rights and
duties of the advocates, and to the 1046 confirmation charter. It is not clear
whether he knew of Charles the Bald’s charter of 877. Once the possessions of
Marchiennes were recorded in the polyptych, Abbot Amand obtained their
official confirmation from the count of Flanders, the bishop of Arras and the
pope.81 Throughout the twelfth century, the successive abbots continued the
efforts to keep a record of Marchiennes’ assets, since all the charters were
copied into a cartulary, which was compiled at this time.82 This was a
common practice of the time, and something especially needed at
Marchiennes because the abbey still had to struggle against the local aristoc-
racy’s exactions. Henri Platelle has demonstrated that the series of miracles of
St Rictrude, Eusebia and Maurontus that were written in the twelfth century
also referred to the conflicts between the community and its lay usurpers,
among whom the Landases were prominent.83 In 1262, the countess of Flan-
ders bought back the advocacy from the Landases, which put an end to their
exactions. Eventually, in 1297, Marchiennes became a royal abbey.84
115
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
85 VR Prologus, p. 93.
86 Translation, Sainted Women, p. 198.
87 VR Prologus, p. 93.
88 Translation, Sainted Women, p. 198.
116
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
89 VR Prologus, p. 93.
90 Translation, Sainted Women, p. 198.
91 VR Prologus, p. 93.
92 Translation, Sainted Women, p. 198.
93 VR Prologus, p. 93.
94 Translation, Sainted Women, p. 198.
95 Smith, ‘A Hagiographer at Work’, p. 156; on edification in Hucbald’s work, see
Smith, ‘The Hagiography of Hucbald’, and Platelle, ‘Le thème de la conversion’.
96 Platelle, ‘Le thème de la conversion’, p. 515.
117
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
unwilling to propose as a model a saint whose actions were not well known
and whose sanctity could be challenged. Indeed, in his lengthy moral discus-
sion about the episode of Eusebia’s beating, Hucbald refers to those who said:
En quales isti dicuntur esse Sancti, mater innoxiam, insequitur filiam, Deo
militare volentem; filia sicut hostem, sic propriam execratur et refugit
matrem; filius matre consentanea, sororem refugam, asportato clam signo
proditam, dirissimis velut furti ream afficit verberibus pene esque ad mortem
. . . Quae in istis sanctitas, quae pax, quae caritas?97
(Look who they are calling saints: a mother who attacked her innocent daugh-
ter for wanting to serve God; a daughter who detested her mother and fled
her as an enemy; a son who, with his mother’s consent, branded his sister like
a fugitive taken away in secret, or like a condemned thief whipped her so
viciously that she nearly died. What sanctity is here, what peace, what
charity?98)
Hence, Hucbald’s hesitation was probably due more to questions about his
characters’ sanctity than to their historicity. Nevertheless, since he was not
only a good writer but also a good theologian, Hucbald was able to reconcile
all points of view and to answer the arguments of the – real or virtual – oppo-
nents.
This prologue is interesting on several counts. First of all, Hucbald’s care-
fully phrased remarks suggest that Rictrude’s legend was already obscure
and, perhaps, that he feared contestation. Second, the prologue shows that by
the beginning of the tenth century, the abbey of Marchiennes was in a
desperate state since the community had lost nearly all written sources about
its history and its patron saint. The disappearance of these documents could
well be explained by viking attacks undergone by the monasteries of the
region in the years 881–883 – we have seen that Hamage had been deserted at
the end of the ninth century. Nevertheless, it seems that Hucbald had heard
almost nothing about Rictrude before. Hucbald was born in 840 and entered
Saint-Amand, where, as an oblate, he became a pupil of the great scholar
Milo; in these conditions, it is surprising that Rictrude’s story had never
reached him.99 It is thus possible that the written sources had already
vanished before the 880s – or never existed – and that Rictrude’s legend
survived only locally, within the small circle of her community. The decline
may also be related to the spoliation of Marchiennes landholding by Charles
the Bald before 877. The hypothesis that Rictrude’s cult had long been
decaying is strengthened by the fact that Hucbald never mentions the loca-
tion of her and her children’s shrines – a detail about which hagiographers
97 This discussion is not in the ASB edition, see AA SS, 3 May, c. 28, p. 87.
98 Translation, Sainted Women, p. 215.
99 On Hucbald’s career, see H. Platelle, ‘Le thème de la conversion’.
118
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
usually go on at great length. The third interesting point is that all the specific
information about Rictrude was brought to Hucbald by the monks and nuns
of the community themselves. To conclude, Hucbald’s prologue leaves the
impression that, by the beginning of the tenth century, the cults of Rictrude
and her children had been neglected and that the tradition of her legend had
mostly been forgotten.
Rictrude’s sinking into oblivion was probably the result of the decay of
Marchiennes’ community, which might be explained by the viking attacks of
881–883, although it cannot be ruled out that it actually preceded these
events. The decision to order the composition of the VR probably corre-
sponds to an initiative to revitalize of the declining community. Lack of
sources on Marchiennes at that time unfortunately prevents any further
probing of the circumstances of the work’s redaction. Nevertheless, there is
no doubt that the situation of Marchiennes in the early tenth century induced
specific needs for the community – endowing itself with a documented past
and a prestigious patron saint – which in turn influenced the way Rictrude’s
vita was written. Since the monks and nuns brought in all the information
concerning the saint herself, and since her story did not seem to be known by
an outside audience, they were left completely free to construct both the
saint’s life and the story of the foundation of Marchiennes to their own liking,
with little chance of being contradicted. Hence, the VR, in its elements specifi-
cally related to Rictrude’s life, although written by an outsider, can be consid-
ered as the product of the community’s concerted initiative. The important
role played by the community in the reconstruction of the legend implies that
it was a collective work by different authors with different, but compatible,
agendas. Hucbald was mostly interested in edification and the community
was mindful of the assertion of its origins. We will see that, on all counts,
each side’s expectations would be fulfilled and, even, that they were
complementary.
Since, if we can trust Hucbald’s prologue, the monks and nuns provided
the information about Rictrude and the foundation of Marchiennes, it is fairly
easy to discriminate between the elements of the narrative contained in the
fragments which reflect the legends transmitted at Marchiennes, and the
elements brought in by Hucbald himself. Indeed, Hucbald substantiated and
complemented Rictrude’s story with a historical background of his own
making. This historical introduction, which follows the prologue and consti-
tutes the five first chapters of the VR, begins with the legend of the Trojan
origins of the Franks and the baptism of Clovis with holy oil from a flask
directly imported from Heaven.100 In the next two chapters, Hucbald intro-
duces Rictrude, born in an aristocratic milieu, and her fatherland, Gascony,
which he presents as a region still mostly pagan, inhabited by ‘savage
119
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
people’. He also discusses the events which occurred between 629 and 632,
running from the beginning of Charibert’s reign to his death and the subse-
quent incorporation of Gascony within the Frankish kingdoms by
Dagobert.101 In the last two chapters of the introduction, Hucbald relates St
Amand’s exile, due to his condemnation of Dagobert’s disreputable private
life, and the baptism of the king’s son, Sigebert III (born in 630–631), by the
saint. It is from this period that Hucbald dates Amand’s mission in
Gascony.102
This introduction to the VR is clearly the product of Hucbald’s personal
knowledge and readings. At Saint-Amand, he had access to a well endowed
library in which historical works had a prominent place.103 The myth of the
Trojan origin of the Franks, the origins of which dated back to the seventh
century, was a well established theme in Merovingian and Carolingian writ-
ings.104 The legend of the flask of heavenly oil used by St Remigius for
Clovis’s baptism had been developed by Hincmar of Reims on the occasion of
Charles the Bald’s anointing. It is not surprising that Hucbald knew and used
this text, since he had taught at Reims in the years following Hincmar’s
death.105 For his exposé on Gascony, Hucbald probably used the fourth book
of Fredegar’s Chronicle.106 Hucbald also had access to the Vita Amandi, where
he found the episode of Amand’s exile by King Dagobert, followed by the
reconciliation and the baptism of Sigebert III by Amand. This episode reveals,
however, that, despite his careful attitude toward his sources, Hucbald did
120
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
not always follow them faithfully, since the VAm does not relate Amand’s
mission in Gascony to his conflict with the king.107
Hucbald’s background of historical knowledge provided a convenient
political, geographical and chronological context for Rictrude’s life and the
foundation of Marchiennes. Hence, his introduction set Rictrude’s life in a
historical context that its audience could identify as credible; this process
undoubtedly gave credibility to a story which, otherwise, would have
seemed vague. Moreover, these chapters, which set the context of Rictrude
and Adalbald’s marriage, purport to integrate the couple and their descen-
dants within the broader and holier context of the divine plan. Hucbald
insists on the fact that the conversion of the Franks had been planned from
the beginning of time:
As a Frank himself, Adalbald partook of the spiritual prestige and the high
achievements of his people. Adalbald, too, came from noble stock: he
possessed many lands and was loved and honored at the king’s court. His
union with the Gascon Rictrude has a parallel with the unification of Gascony
with the Frankish kingdoms under King Dagobert. Furthermore, his personal
lineage shone with piety since his own grandmother, St Gertrude, had
founded a monastic community (Hamage).110 As for Rictrude, her racial
origins could not be magnified in a similar way, since she was born in a
region still mostly pagan. Hence, she is presented as an exception who was
predestined to sanctity.
Cujus incolae licet illo tempore pene omnes daemoniacis essent dediti
cultibus, a Deo tamen praelecta Rictrudis sic ex eisdem impiis et sine Deo
prodiit hominibus, veluti solet rosa de spinosis efflorere sentibus.111
(And, though her natives were at that time given over to the worship of de-
mons, Rictrude was predestine by God to spring from that same impious and
godless people as a rose habitually flowers among the thorns.’112)
121
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
122
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
these assertions are true does not really matter; what is interesting is that the
VR carefully recorded them. The precise details of the baptisms were meant
to emphasize the historicity of the vita and, above all, to provide its heroes
with prestigious connections. Furthermore, from Hucbald’s point of view,
these prestigious baptisms help to emphasize that, from the outset, Rictrude’s
children were bound for the highest destiny. In this regard, it is notable that
nothing is said about the baptism of Adalsind, who died before her mother,
and who, unlike her brother and sisters, did not have a particularly holy
fate.116
The suspicious nature of the baptisms is further confirmed by the fact that
Maurontus is a blatant creation of the VR, deprived of any historicity. Indeed,
the examination of the manner in which his character was constructed in the
VR shows that his name and many of his attributes were created from narra-
tive elements alien to the VR. Chapters 22 to 24 of the VR are exclusively
concerned with Maurontus’s life and deeds. First of all, Hucbald undertakes
to relate an incident which had occurred during Maurontus’s infancy, at the
occasion of his baptism by St Richer. One day, Richer came on horseback to
visit Rictrude; after chatting with the holy man, she walked along with him,
bearing Maurontus in her arms and asked the holy man to baptize the child.
Perched on his horse, Richer lifted him, but, as he was about to baptize him,
the horse hurled itself forward. Miraculously, the child’s fall was slowed and,
unhurt, he landed on the ground, as lightly as a bird’s feather.117 Later, when
he became an adult, Maurontus joined the king’s service and contracted a
marriage. Immediately, however, he decided to renounce carnal love, appar-
ently under the influence of St Amand. He then went to Marchiennes to
explain his decision to his mother. As Maurontus was standing by the ubiqui-
tous Amand, who was celebrating mass, a bee circled three times around his
head.118 This was the unmistakable sign of his election to the religious life,
and Amand hurried to consecrate him a deacon and to tonsure him. After his
consecration, Maurontus founded the monastery of Breuil, where, as we have
seen, he kept St Amatus in custody.119
Maurontus’s baptism by a holy man and the episode of the bee circling his
head served to emphasize that, from birth, he was among God’s chosen ones.
Maurontus’s election fits well with Hucbald’s inclination to the theme of
prefiguration. However, the baptism scene with St Richer unveils more about
Maurontus than his holy destiny: it also reveals that the character of
116 On the issue of Dagobert and his personal relations with contemporary saints, see C.
Wehrli, Mittelalterliche Überlieferungen von Dagobert I (Bern-Francfort, 1982), pp.
107–37 (p. 113 for St Rictrude); on Dagobert as chronological landmark, see ibid., pp.
135–9.
117 VR, c. 22, p. 498.
118 VR, c. 23, p. 499.
119 VR, c. 24, pp. 499–500.
123
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
Maurontus himself may be largely fictitious. Indeed, the name and person-
ality of Maurontus seem to result from the confusion of two distinct charac-
ters from the life of St Richer.120 The earliest vita, known as Vita Richarii
Primigenia, relates the same episode, which Alcuin then expanded in his own
Vita Richarii, written between 800 and 804.121 Comparison of the three texts
(the VR and the two vitae of St Richer) shows that Hucbald copied the episode
from Alcuin, rather than from the Vita Primigenia.122 In chapter 10 of the Vita
Richarii, Alcuin reports the following episode. One day, Richer visited a pious
woman named Rictrude (a woman clearly unrelated to our Rictrude) who
asked him to baptize her young son; suddenly, the horse he was riding
became nervous and the child slipped from his arms and fell; but, miracu-
lously his fall was slowed down and he landed softly on the ground,
unhurt.123 It is notable that this passage of the Vita Richarii does not mention
the child’s name. As for Maurontus, he is introduced in chapter 12 of the Vita
Richarii. This Maurontus was one of the king’s foresters who had embraced
the heremetic life at Forest-Montier (dep. Somme, arr. Abbeville), where St
Richer later retired.124 In the Vita Richarii, however, chapters 10 and 12 are
clearly unrelated and nowhere does the text suggest that the forester
Maurontus was Rictrude’s grown-up child. The episode of Maurontus’s
baptism in the VR was clearly copied from the corresponding episode in the
Vita Richarii, obviously because the author of the VR considered that his
Rictrude and the Rictrude of the Vita Richarii were one and the same.125
Except for the similarity of names, there is no reason to believe this, even if it
is not chronologically impossible – Richer died in 645. The attribution of the
name Maurontus to Rictrude’s son obviously results from two operations: the
conflation of chapters 10 and 12 of the Vita Richarii on the one hand, and the
confusion of the two Rictrudes on the other. As Van der Essen believed, the
creation of Maurontus, son of Rictrude of Marchiennes, could be an example
of these text fragments that the monks and nuns of Marchiennes had pains-
120 The earliest vita dates from the eighth century: Vita Richarii Sacerdotis Centulensis
Primigenia (BHL 7223), ed. B. Krusch MGH SRM 7 (Hanover, 1920), pp. 438–53;
Alcuin’s Vita Richarii (BHL 7224), ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM 4 (Hanover, 1902), pp.
381–401, written between 800 and 804, closely follows this earlier version; for a
discussion of Maurontus in VR and the Vita Richarii, see P. Geary, Aristocracy in
Provence. The Rhone Basin at the Dawn of the Carolingian Age (Stuttgart, 1985), pp.
131–4.
121 Vita Richarii Primigenia, c. 5, pp. 446–7.
122 See Van der Essen’s comparison of the two texts in Étude critique, pp. 263–4, and
Geary, Aristocracy in Provence, p. 133, n. 23.
123 Alcuin, Vita Richarii, c. 10, p. 394.
124 Alcuin, Vita Richarii, c. 12, p. 396; the corresponding episode in the Vita Primigenia is
c. 8, pp. 448–50.
125 VR, c. 22, pp. 498–9; the name Rictrude was not unusual, and is found in different
places in Francia, see M.-T. Morlet, Les noms de personne sur le territoire de l’Ancienne
Gaule du VIIe au XIIe siècle, 2 vols. (Paris, 1968), I.
124
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
takingly gathered and presented to Hucbald.126 The confusion may have been
developed at Marchiennes during the ninth century and reverberated in the
fragments and oral testimonies presented to Hucbald.127 However, I tend to
believe that the merging of these two distinct characters named Rictrude is
more likely the product of Hucbald’s personal historical knowledge, which is
so visible in his introduction. Indeed, given the relations between Alcuin and
Saint-Amand, Hucbald was more likely than the community of Marchiennes
to have a first-hand knowledge of the Vita Richarii.128 In any case, the coinci-
dence of names is too suspicious to be trusted. Moreover, Maurontus’s late
appearance in Marchiennes’ tradition is corroborated by the total ignorance
of his name prior to the writing of the VR. While the names of both Rictrude
and Eusebia already appear in ninth-century calendars and litanies from
Saint-Amand and its region, Maurontus did not surface in similar documents
until the eleventh century.129
The episode of Maurontus is not the only one in the VR that gives an
impression of déjà-vu. The dramatic episode of Rictrude’s refusal to remarry
despite the injunction of the king closely resembles a similar anecdote in the
126 Julia Smith has suggested, however, that Hucbald may have had direct contacts
with the abbey of Saint-Riquier, see ‘A Hagiographer at Work’, p. 165.
127 Alcuin’s Vita Richarii, because of its author’s fame, was widely known and very
influential in the hagiography of northern Francia; see the table of literary depend-
encies in Van der Essen, Étude critique; the Vita Richarii is not mentioned in the
twelfth-century booklist of Saint-Amand, Paris, BN, Lat. 1850, published by A.
Becker, Catalogi Bibliothecarum Antiqui, pp. 231–3; at Marchiennes it was quoted
among the mandatory table readings, see C. A. ‘Les lectures de table des moines de
Marchiennes au XIIIe siècle’, RB 11 (1894), 32. It is noteworthy that Maurontus was
recycled once again in the eleventh-century vita of St Walaric (BHL 8762), ed. B.
Krusch, MGH SRM 4, pp. 157–75, where he is mentioned as a man who started his
career at the king’s court and eventually opted for the religious life after breaking up
his marriage; Van der Essen believed that this Maurontus was the same person as
the king’s forester in the vita Richarii, but different from the Maurontus in VR (see
Étude critique, p. 264); however, I believe that the Maurontus of the Vita Walarici was
more likely inspired by the two Maurontuses, the Maurontus from VR, and the
Maurontus from the Vita Richarii.
128 Alcuin was a friend of Abbot Arn of Saint-Amand and composed a series of inscrip-
tions for the abbey.
129 M. Coens, ‘Anciennes litanies des saints’, Subsidia Hagiographica 37 (Brussels, 1963),
271–4; V. Leroquais, Les sacramentaires et les missels manuscrits des bibliothèques
publiques de France, 4 vols. (Paris, 1924), I, 221; Rictrude and Eusebia also appear
without Maurontus in the litanies of the Leofric Missal, a sacramentary written in
the second half of the ninth century in Flanders or north-east Francia, see M.
Lapidge, Anglo-Saxon Litanies of the Saints (London, 1991), pp. 76–7 and 229. It is also
noteworthy that in the calendars of the ninth-century sacramentaries from
Saint-Amand, Rictrude and Eusebia appear at their natalis, respectively 27 October
and 28 November, rather than at their feast day, day of their death, which were the
only dates given by Hucbald (12 May and 5 May); in a Marchiennes missal from the
early twelfth century both Maurontus and Rictrude appear at their feast days.
125
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
130 Vita Geretrudis Prima (BHL 3490), ed. B. Krusch, MGH SRM 2 (Hanover, 1888), pp.
464–71; on Gertrude and the foundation of the abbey of Nivelles under the influence
of St Amand, see Dierkens, ‘Saint Amand et la fondation de l’abbaye de Nivelles’.
131 Vita Geretrudis Prima, pp. 454–5, and VR, c. 14, p. 495.
132 For example in the vita of St Sadalberga; see Sainted Women of the Dark Ages, p. 223
and nn. 13 and 14.
126
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
suffocated the small community lying in its shadow. If this were the case, it is
ironic that the monks and nuns from Marchiennes had to rely on a scholar
from Saint-Amand to fulfill the task of reviving their own history.
133 John of Saint-Amand, Vita S. Rictrudis (BHL 7248), ed. G. Silagi, MGH Poetae 5, 3
(Munich, 1977), pp. 565–96; see the exchange of letters between John and Stephen,
VR metrica, pp. 566–7 and the acrostic poem to Erluin, ed. K. Strecker, MGH Poetae 5,
2 (Dublin and Zurich, 1970), p. 375; see Van der Essen, Étude critique, pp. 265–8.
134 VR, c. 9, p. 492 and VE, c. 3, pp. 558–9; on the comparison between VR and VE, see
Deug-Su, ‘La “Vita Rictrudis” ‘, pp. 563–74.
127
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
VE, c. 3 VR, c. 5
Quidam Francigena, nomine Adalbaldus, Rictrudis . . . videtur . . . a quodam
non ex mediocribus quilibet unus; sed Francigena, Adalbaldo nomine, natalibus
inter Palatinos proceres potentissimus, orto praeclaris et justis.
locupletissimus in fundis et mancipiorum
reditibus innumeris . . .
The emphasis on Eusebia and her paternal lineage, at the expense of Rictrude,
is also visible in the passage concerning Adalbald’s murder: the VE suggests
that at his death Adalbald became the object of a cult:
The difference of perspective between the two texts is also visible in the
passages concerning Eusebia’s beating. The author of the VE, unlike Hucbald,
did not maintain cautious neutrality, but he subtly empathized with
Eusebia.136 Besides these differences of perspective, the author of the VE
introduced new information about Marchiennes and Eusebia. First of all, he
dates the foundation of Marchiennes to the time of Dagobert’s father, Clothar
II (584–629) – which is impossible if we can trust Hucbald that it was an initia-
tive of St Amand.137 The VE also asserts that Eusebia ruled Hamage for
twenty-three years (‘In huiusmodi itaque exercitiis septem minus tricenis
vitae huius transcursis annis’), which contradicts Hucbald who said she
barely survived her beating and that she died in the middle of her adoles-
cence.138
The VE, moreover, records two episodes which were not reported by
Hucbald in the VR. First, the author relates the story, told by the vulgus, that,
when a piece of the rod used by Maurontus for Eusebia’s beating had fallen
to the ground, it grew roots and blossomed.139 The second new fact of the VE
is the translation of Eusebia’s relics. At her death, the saint had been buried in
the abbatial church, dedicated to SS Peter and Paul; this dedication was not
given by Hucbald. This church, however, proved unfit because it already
128
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
contained too many relics. For this reason, an abbess named Gertrude,
widow of a certain illustrious Ingomar, decided to build a new church to
which Eusebia’s relics were translated. According to the VE, the ceremony
was presided over by Hatta, abbot of Saint-Vaast at Arras (c. 680–700).140 A
second translation of Eusebia’s relics is mentioned in the twelfth-century
polyptych.141 This translation was made from Hamage to Marchiennes, and
this event may have been the occasion of the composition of Eusebia’s vita.
Leon van der Essen has suggested that John of Saint-Amand, author of the
VR metrica, can be credited with the writing of both the prose and the verse
VE (VE metrica).142 On the basis of stylistic resemblances between the VR
metrica and the VE metrica, Van der Essen has proposed that both should be
attributed to John of Saint-Amand.143 Since the twelfth-century author of the
Miracula S. Eusebiae asserts that the VE and the VE metrica were written by the
same person, this would mean that John is the author of the VE.144 This is
plausible, although the VE and the VR present slightly different points of
view at different places. These differences, however, do not forcibly imply a
different authorship, and they can simply be explained by the fact that the
focus of the VE is Eusebia rather than Rictrude.145 In any case, the VE, the VE
metrica and the VR metrica, even if they were not written by the same author,
were probably composed roughly at the same time, around the millennium,
since they were copied together in an early eleventh-century manuscript
from Marchiennes (now Douai 849), together with Hucbald’s Vita Ionati. And
in this manuscript the author of the VR metrica is presented as John, monk of
Marchiennes. This attribution could denote wishful thinking by a community
willing to claim for itself the author of their patron saint’s vita, or it could
signify John’s actual transfer to Marchiennes.
I have suggested that the writing of the new vitae corresponded to a
concerted effort to revitalize Rictrude’s and Eusebia’s cults two decades
before the restoration imposed by Gerard of Cambrai. This is confirmed by
the care taken in the creation of the early eleventh-century Douai 849, which
is the earliest surviving manuscript of these texts. This manuscript contains
illuminations representing Rictrude, her children and St Jonatus. The
140 VE, c. 13, p. 563; the name Gertrude, which is also the name of the foundress of
Hamage, could denote a family link with the founding family; Gertrude is said to be
the widow of Ingomar, whom Van der Essen (Étude critique, p. 267, n. 5) proposes to
identify with a count of Thérouanne mentioned in the Vita Eligii (p. 726); on the
dates of Hatta’s abbacy, see P. Grierson, ‘The Early Abbots of St. Peters of Ghent’, RB
26 (1936), 129–46 (p. 131).
141 L’Histoire-Polyptyque, c. 14, p. 76.
142 Vita S. Eusebiae metrica (fragments) (BHL 2737), AA SS, 1 Feb., p. 450.
143 Van der Essen, Étude critique, p. 268.
144 Van der Essen, Étude critique, p. 268; Miracula S. Eusebiae (BHL 2738), ed. G.
Guesquière, ASB, 4, c. 3, p. 565.
145 On this point, see Deug-Su, ‘La “Vita Rictrudis” ‘, pp. 563–74.
129
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
awkwardness of the painting, which contrasts with the high quality achieved
by the scriptorium later in the eleventh century, suggests that it may well
pre-date the restoration. In this regard, it is significant that this manuscript
does not contain the Vita Maurontii, whose cult, as I already hinted, emerged
only after the restoration.
In this short passage, there are three variations from the original legend of the
VR. First, the Gesta asserts that Rictrude founded Marchiennes on her own
estate. According to the VR, the foundation was made by Amand, independ-
ently of Rictrude, and Hucbald never mentioned that the land belonged to
Adalbald’s family. Second, the notice suggests that Rictrude was the first
ruler of Marchiennes and that, from the onset, the abbey hosted a female
community. On the other hand, in the VR, Amand had founded Marchiennes
as a male community, and women were introduced by its first abbot, Jonatus.
After Rictrude’s death, however, the situation of the monastery
deteriorated:
130
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
Fortunately, Abbot Leduinus, helped by Gerard and Baldwin, saved the situ-
ation:
The nuns’ main sin, beyond religious considerations, may have been their
inability to protect Marchiennes’ landholding against usurpation; indeed, the
author of the polyptych refers to properties lost in the past because of the
abbesses’ carelessness and weakness.149 If Marchiennes’ landholding had
indeed been despoiled in the tenth century, regaining the lost property was
one of the restorer’s main concerns. This explains the changes undergone by
the foundation legend of Marchiennes: claiming that the abbey’s estates origi-
nally belonged to the community’s patron saint was an argument which
could prove useful against the community’s usurpers. As for the notice’s
assertion that Marchiennes was an exclusively female community, it purports
to emphasize the contrast between the worldly nuns and the pious regular
monks who replaced them.
The new male community of Marchiennes took another step in the
rewriting of Rictrude’s legend. We have seen that until the eleventh century,
the two main saints of Marchiennes were Rictrude and Eusebia: Maurontus’s
name was not inserted in litanies and calendars until the eleventh century,
while Eusebia and Rictrude are found in such texts as early as in the ninth
century. Furthermore, when, at the time of Bishop Erluin, John of
Saint-Amand composed the VR metrica and the VE, which were soon after
copied in Douai in 849, he did not write a vita for Maurontus. The reformed
community, perhaps in need of a male tutelary saint, revived – or rather
created – St Maurontus’s cult by writing the Vita Mauronti (VM).150 The first
three chapters of the VM were made by cutting and pasting the relevant
episodes found in the VR. In the fourth chapter, however, the VM departs
from its model by asserting that Maurontus went to Marchiennes at his
mother’s death, that he became abbot and that he died there:
131
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
This interpolation contradicts the VR, which said that Rictrude’s daughter,
Clotsind, succeeded her mother as abbess. By asserting that Maurontus,
rather than Clotsind, succeeded Rictrude, the author may have intended to
insinuate that there was a tradition, dating back to St Rictrude, of
Marchiennes being ruled by men before the women definitely took over. The
Miraculum Mauronti, which relates a miracle that happened during the time
of Abbot Alberic (1033–1948), may have been written at the same period as
the VM.152 Despite this attempt at creating and developing a distinct cult for
St Maurontus, the saint never became an important tutelary figure at
Marchiennes. Indeed, as early as 1024 the canons of the collegiate church of
Saint-Amé at Douai were claiming to possess Maurontus’s relics. Although
they never explained how his relics had reached Douai, the canons’ claims
were not challenged by the community of Marchiennes. By the twelfth
century, the translation of ‘the major part’ of Maurontus’s relics to Douai was
accepted at Marchiennes and considered as the sign of God’s will to reunite
Maurontus with his friend St Amatus.153
The polyptych was written between 1116 and 1121, after a calamitous
period of dispersal of Marchiennes’ property into lay hands. The polyptych
purported to record into a single document all the information concerning
the abbey’s properties and revenues, and it was designed as a defensive tool
against the usurpers. The text of the polyptych itself is preceded by two chap-
ters providing a justification for its composition; the author articulates clearly
the relation between the recording of history and the protection of property:
132
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
order to protect oneself against usurpation was both useful and lawful, the
author of the polyptych undertook a historical introduction recalling the
origins and the foundation of Marchiennes in thirteen chapters. This histori-
cal setting, which purports to assert the antiquity and the legitimacy of
Marchiennes landholding, was the occasion, once again, to transform
Rictrude’s legend.
Like the Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium, the polyptych insists on the fact
that Marchiennes was founded on Rictrude’s domain:
The polyptych also suggests that the monastery was built for Rictrude.
Furthermore, Rictrude and Adalbald’s social status is magnified: according to
our author, Rictrude came from a senatorial family and Adalbald was a
‘potentissimus dux’. After the foundation, St Aubert, bishop of Cambrai,
gave his benediction to her pious enterprise and dedicated the church.156
Aubert’s intervention, which is found for the first time in this text, is chrono-
logically possible – Aubert is attested in 645–52 and 667 – but geographically
improbable, since Marchiennes was still in the diocese of Tournai at that
time.157
The fifth chapter is the most significant one, because it introduces the will
that Rictrude allegedly bequeathed to her community:
Chapter six recalls how Jonas – not Jonatus! – first ruled the male community
and how, when Rictrude entered Marchiennes, a community of women was
created. It is also said that Rictrude preferred to remain a simple nun rather
133
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
than becoming abbess.159 It is true that the VR never explicitly said that
Rictrude was abbess, but it was clear that she had the authority of the posi-
tion. Chapter 7 recounts Rictrude’s death and her burial near the altar dedi-
cated to John the Baptist, details which are missing from earlier narratives.160
Chapters 8 to 14 recall the stories of SS Maurontus, Amatus and Eusebia and
the foundations of Hamage and Breuil. These chapters do not depart signifi-
cantly from the data given by the VR and the Vita Amati.
Finally, chapter 15 returns to Rictrude’s will already alluded to in chapter
5. The will had been written down at the time of Clovis II (640–657) and was
legally witnessed by many important and prestigious men of the time.161
Indeed, the accumulation of ‘celebrities’ is impressive: those present included
St Aubert, St Vindicien (Aubert’s successor-to-be), Honoratus (an archdeacon
from Arras who was buried near St Vindicien at Mount St Eligius), St Amand,
St Jonatus, Chrodobaldus (prior of Elnon at the time of Amand), Vincent
Madelgaire, founder of the monastery of Soignies, Amalfrid (founder of the
cella of Honnecourt with his daughter Auriana), and Badilo (who was said to
have brought Mary Magdalen’s relics from Jerusalem to Vezelay).162 It is clear
that all these characters have nothing to do with Rictrude and Marchiennes, if
only because they were all related to the bishopric of Cambrai, while
Marchiennes was, until the middle of the seventh century, in the bishopric of
Tournai. The mention in the witness list of Badilo, whose existence is dubious
in any case, is anachronistic since, according to the tradition from Vezelay, it
was after the viking invasions that Badilo brought Mary Magdalen’s relics to
Vezelay.163 Similarly, Amalfrid and Auriana are attested only in 685, in a
charter from Saint-Bertin.164 Amand and Jonatus belong to the original legend
of St Rictrude; Chrodobaldus is mentioned in the VAm, and in the twelfth
century his relics, which were buried in the crypt beside St Jonatus, were
honored at Marchiennes.165 Although many of these characters are
mentioned in a variety of earlier texts (vitae, charters), it appears that the
author of the polyptych, who is probably to be credited with the invention of
Rictrude’s testament, found their names in the Gesta of Cambrai. Indeed, we
have seen that in his introduction he nominally mentions the Gesta as one of
134
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
his sources; it seems that, to compose his list of witnesses, he read through
the Gesta and randomly picked up names of people whose dates could
possibly match the date of Rictrude’s pseudo-will.166 Indeed, his source for
these characters clearly corresponds to notices in the Gesta, and the only
common point between them is exactly their mention in the Gesta. After the
ceremony of the signatures, St Amand and St Aubert, with the approbation of
the king, anathematized those who would despoil the monastery of
Marchiennes.167 Finally, the polyptych itself begins directly after this chapter.
The author’s narrative technique is transparent. By beginning the
polyptych with an introduction relating the foundation of Marchiennes, he
meant to emphasize the antiquity of the monastery and the legitimacy of its
territorial claims. The legitimacy is further strengthened by the assertion that
Marchiennes’ possessions belonged to Rictrude herself. The most interesting
element of the legend’s transformation in the polyptych is St Rictrude’s
alleged will. It is not clear whether the testament was the product of our
author’s imagination or whether this story had already been developed
before, but it is obvious that it is a creation without any documented basis.
This distortion of the legend as it was told by Hucbald is plainly understand-
able. The invented will evidently purported to sacralize Marchiennes’ posses-
sions by asserting Rictrude’s desire that her lands be reserved for the use of
her community.168 Hence the polyptych actually represents a reproduction of
the possessions and rights which were recorded in Rictrude’s testament. It is
also clear that Aubert and Amand’s anathema is actually addressed to the
twelfth-century sticky-fingered local petty lords whose interests were in
conflict with Marchiennes’ over landholding. As for all the new characters
introduced in the foundation story, they play the same role as St Richer and
Nanthild in the VR: their collaboration stresses the prestige of the new foun-
dation and they provide a historical backdrop to the events.
The polyptych was not an isolated effort to make Marchiennes’ landed
166 On St Aubert and St Vindicien, see Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium, lib. I, pp.
407–10. On Honoratus, see Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium, lib. I, c. 30, p. 415. On
St Vincent Madelgaire, see Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium, lib. II, c. 35, p. 463; St
Vincent was the husband of St Waldetrude, foundress of the monastery of Mons;
both decided to enter religious life slightly before 655: Helvétius, Abbayes, évêques et
laïques, pp. 49–53. On Amalfrid and Auriana, see Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium,
lib II, c. 10, p. 438. On Bodilo, see Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium, lib. II, c. 43, p.
464.
167 L’Histoire-Polyptyque, c. 15, pp. 77–8.
168 Examples of such legitimization of landholding through a donation or testament
given by the saint abound, especially in the eleventh century; see de Gaiffier, ‘Les
revendications de biens’. Parallels can be drawn with the so-called forged donation
of St Aldegund: see P. Bonenfant, ‘Note critique sur le prétendu testament de sainte
Aldegonde’, Bulletin de la Commission Royale d’Histoire 98 (1934), 219–38, who gives
an edition of the document; for the most recent discussion of the text, see Helvétius,
Abbayes, évêques et laïques, pp. 161–8.
135
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
assets more sacred in order to (re)claim them for the community. During the
twelfth century, several collections of miracles attributed to SS Rictrude,
Jonatus and Eusebia were produced. As Henri Platelle has amply demon-
strated, these collections, written between 1125 and 1174, abound in anec-
dotes of conflicts between the monks and rapacious local lords – among
whom the abbey’s advocates were not the least abusers.169 Hence, the trans-
formation of the foundation legend found in the Cambrai Gesta and espe-
cially in the polyptych and the miracula form a coherent set of written
reactions in direct response to conflicts over landholding with the neigh-
boring aristocracy which had already started in the tenth century and became
increasingly acute during the eleventh and twelfth centuries.
The assertion that Adalbald was Erchinoald’s brother appears for the first
169 For a detailed analysis of Marchiennes’ collections of miracles and their relation to
conflicts regarding landholding, see Platelle, ‘La religion populaire’ and ‘Crime et
châtiment’.
170 The cycle of Guillaume takes place, however, in a mythic Carolingian time; on
Guillaume d’Orange and the construction of his legend, see Le Cycle de Guillaume
d’Orange: Anthologie, ed. D. Boutet, Les Lettres Gothiques 4547 (Paris, 1996), and J.
Frappier, Les chansons de geste du cycle de Guillaume d’Orange, 2 vols. (Paris,
1955–1965).
171 K. F. Werner, ‘Andreas von Marchiennes und die Geschichtschreibung von Anchin
und Marchiennes in der zweiten Hälfte des 12. Jahrhunderts’, Deutsches Archiv 9
(1951), 402–63.
172 Chronicon Marcianense, p. 416.
136
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
137
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
that the Maurontus of VR is related to the Maurontus of the Vita Richarii; I believe,
however, that Maurontus’s name is a contamination of VR due to the conflation of
two unrelated stories of the Vita Richarii. Geary’s other main argument is the ‘vicin-
ity’ of Erchinoald and Adalbald’s possession (Aristocracy, pp. 135–6); as we have
seen, Adalbald’s possessions were in Ostrevant, while Erchinoald’s family assets
were in the regions of Saint-Wandrille, Jumièges, in the Marne valley and at
Péronne on the Somme; although at the scale of the Frankish kingdoms these
regions are not extremely far away, I think that it is a stretch to consider them as
belonging to the same geographical area. Moreover, Geary has suggested that a few
Maurontuses who lived in Provence in the eighth century could belong to
Rictrude’s lineage. Considering the dubious nature of Maurontus’s name and the
little reliable information that we have about Rictrude, it is risky to infer much about
her lineage from a simple coincidence of names.
178 Fredegar, Chronicorum Liber Quartus, c. 84, p. 71.
179 A similar ‘social upgrading’ appears in the successive legends of St Waudru of
Mons, see J.-M. Cauchies, ‘Hagiographie, historiographie et politique (IXe–XIVe s.):
Sainte Waudru “comtesse”, “duchesse”, “princesse” ‘, in Sainte Waudru devant
l’histoire et devant la foi. Recueil d’études publié à l’occasion du treizième centenaire de sa
mort, ed. J.-M. Cauchies (Mons, 1989), pp. 93–116.
180 Recueil des actes de Philippe Ier, roi de France (1059–1108), ed. M. Prou (Paris, 1908), p.
439.
181 Andrew of Marchiennes, Historia Succinta, c. 18, p. 626.
138
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
182 Vita S. Bertae (BHL 1266), AA SS, 2 Jul., c. 4, p. 50; see Van der Essen, Étude critique,
pp. 420–2.
183 Vita S. Bertae, c. 7, p. 50.
184 Vita S. Bertae, c. 5, p. 50; the Vita Bertae was known at Marchiennes in the twelfth
century: Douai, Bibliothèque Municipale, MS 842.
185 On this late Vita Aldegundis (VA5) (BHL 247), AA SS, 3 Jan., pp. 655–62, written c.
1030–1040, and which had been wrongly attributed to Hucbald of Saint-Amand, see
Helvétius, Abbayes, évêques et laïques, pp. 340–2.
186 See, for example, Le Jan, Famille et pouvoir, pp. 392–3, who suggests, albeit with
reservations, that St Gertrude of Nivelle, St Gertrude of Hamage, St Bertha and St
Rictrude could belong to the same sippe. For other examples of interrelated
hagiographic cycles, see B. de Gaiffier, ‘L’hagiographie dans le marquisat de
139
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
this is a risky step to take, and that this phenomenon has other explanations.
After all, these names were spread throughout the Frankish kingdoms.187
More significantly, I believe that the mode of transmission of these legends
and the narrative techniques used by the authors account for an important
part of the similarities of names and situations between all these vitae.
Christoph Wehrli has amply demonstrated that Dagobert had become a topos
of medieval historiography and hagiography, who was used both as a chro-
nological landmark and as a way of enhancing saints’ prestige.188 In terms of
name dropping, there is undoubtedly an elaborating narrative process at
work in Rictrude’s cycle: at each stage of its transformation, new prestigious
lay and holy characters were added. As for the insertion of the ‘anonymous’
characters, the case of Maurontus is particularly enlightening. The attribution
to Rictrude of a son named Maurontus shows how two unrelated characters
have been assimilated in order to create a new one. A similar identification
happened with Rotrude, St Bertha’s sister-in-law, and Rictrude. The popu-
larity of the name Gertrude might be in part explained by the popularity of
the saint, especially in milieus related to St Amand.
Conclusion
Rictrude and her kin are at the origin of a narrative cycle initiated in the tenth
century which was further elaborated in the eleventh and twelfth centuries.
The seminal text of the cycle, the VR, introduced enough events and charac-
ters to allow later writers to use the text and transform the legend according
to the necessities of the time. Hence, the VR inspired various extrapolations
which appear in a series of texts: the Vita Jonati, the Vita Amati, written by
Hucbald himself, the Vita Rictrudis Metrica, the Vita Eusebiae. These new vitae
directly stemmed from the VR, and the new narrative elements they added to
their model aimed mainly at valorizing their saint; the Vita Amati Longior
adds that Amatus became abbot of Breuil, the Vita Eusebiae emphasizes her
paternal lineage and lengthens her life by two decades. The VR and its
sequels were meant to promote the cult of Marchiennes’ saints and to recon-
struct the history of its origins. Hence, in these texts emphasis was put on the
saints’ social prestige, their relations with important people and the support
given by holy people to the foundation. After the restoration, Rictrude’s
legend was significantly altered, especially in those aspects that concerned
140
St Rictrude and the Abbey of Marchiennes
189 On the cycle of St Waldetrude of Mons, her family and their monastic foundations,
see Helvétius, Abbayes, évêques et laïques, pp. 45–86.
190 The importance of family in Rictrude’s cycle is also undoubtedly related to her
gender and to Carolingian perceptions of female sanctity: see J. H. M. Smith, ‘The
Problem of Female Sanctity in Carolingian Europe c. 780–920’, Past and Present 146
(1995), 3–37 (pp. 36–7). Regarding Rictrude’s family in VR, it is notable that the
developments are vertical: sanctity is transmitted from the great-grandmother
Gertrude to Eusebia through her grandson Adalbald and his wife, Rictrude; this is
akin to the observations made by Laurent Theis on family representation in
Merovingian hagiography, which contrast with the common vision of a Frankish
society based on horizontal clanic relations: see ‘Saints sans famille? Quelques
remarques sur la famille dans le monde franc à travers les sources hagi-
ographiques’, Revue Historique 255 (1976), 3–30.
141
CHAPTER FIVE
Introduction
From the eleventh century, the canons of the collegiate church of Saint-Amé
at Douai were claiming possession of St Amatus’s and St Maurontus’s relics.
As we have seen in the previous chapter, these saints originally belonged to
St Rictrude’s cycle and were commemorated at the abbey of Marchiennes. In
this chapter, I will examine how the canons of Douai legitimized their appro-
priation of Amatus’s and Maurontus’s relics by selecting the elements from
Rictrude’s cycle pertaining to their tutelary saints, by adapting these elements
to their own interest, and finally, by integrating them within their own foun-
dation legend. The fate of Amatus’s and Maurontus’s legends at Douai is
interesting because their transformations by the canons allow us to investi-
gate how a particular house’s custom-built historical narrative could be
appropriated by another community and adapted for its own ends.
The translation of St Amatus from his monastery of Breuil to the church of
Douai, which prompted the foundation of the community of canons, was
related for the first time in 1076, in a group of charters, or rather charter-
notices, dated 1076. These charters-notices were written at Saint-Amé itself,
and sent for signature to the count of Flanders, Robert the Frisian, and the
king of France, Philip I.1 This foundation story asserts that Arnulf the Great
had brought the relics to Douai in the aftermath of his conquest of the city (c.
950). I have already underlined how positive as well as negative interaction
between religious communities and secular power had an impact on these
communities’ narrative production.2 This is especially striking in the case of
the community of Douai. Indeed, the foundation story was written down in
1076, in the context of the bitter struggles which opposed the counts of Flan-
ders and Hainault over the control of the city. We shall see that this troubled
1 The notice differs from the charter in that it is written in an objective form and the
charter in a subjective form; see O. Guillotjeannin, J. Pycke and B.-M. Tock,
Diplomatique médiévale, L’Atelier du Médiéviste 2 (Turnhout, 1993), p. 25.
2 At Saint-Bertin opposition to Arnulf’s intervention triggered the redaction of the
Gesta Abbatum; at Marchiennes, the polyptych and the miracle collections were
written in a context of struggle between the abbey and its advocates and lay neigh-
bors.
142
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
political context influenced both the time and the manner in which the
community of Saint-Amé produced its own historiographical narratives. It is
indeed not without significance that the foundation legend of Saint-Amé was
related for the first time neither in a hagiographic text nor in a chronicle, but
rather in charters ratified by the highest secular authorities of the time, the
king of France and the count of Flanders.
Because of the close relation between the history of Saint-Amé and the
political context, I will begin this chapter with a brief overview of the history
of Douai and its region during the period. Then, I will examine the narrative
process by which the canons of Saint-Amé adapted the original legend of
Amatus and Maurontus to their own needs. The first aspect of this adaptation
concerns St Amatus. In 1076, this community wrote, apparently for the first
time, the story of its foundation, which is closely related to the translation of
Amatus’s relics from Breuil to Douai.3 The translation, according to the 1076
texts, was initiated by Arnulf the Great, and was justified by the destruction of
Breuil during the vikings’ incursions. The transfer of Amatus’s relics was
accompanied by the transfer to the new community of Saint-Amé of the
estates which had belonged to Breuil. Hence, in their foundation story, the
canons of Saint-Amé presented themselves as both spiritual and material heirs
to the monastic community founded by Maurontus. In order to emphasize
and legitimize this privileged status, the canons integrated, within the founda-
tion story of Saint-Amé, the foundation story of Breuil – which was originally
told in the Vita Rictrudis (VR) and the Vita Amati Longior (VAL) – and trans-
formed it in such a way that the role of St Amatus at Breuil was magnified. The
second aspect of the adaptation of Rictrude’s cycle concerns St Maurontus;
indeed, as we have already seen, the canons should probably be credited with
the development of the legend asserting that Maurontus’s father Adalbald
was a duke of Douai who had rebuilt its castrum. To conclude, I will discuss
how these two transformations of the original story complete each other
because both the foundation legend of Saint-Amé and Maurontus’s improved
genealogy contributed to the legitimization of Saint-Amé’s landholding and
the appropriation of St Amatus and St Maurontus’ cults.
The origins of Douai (Nord, chef-lieu) and its early history are obscure and
scarcely documented.4 Before the second third of the tenth century, Douai
seems to have been little more than a pre-urban area of little economic and
143
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
Roger of Laon kept Douai for ten years; in 941, he was expelled by King Louis
IV who gave the castrum back to Arnould:
moyen âge, 4 vols. (Douai, 1913), I.; F. Brassart, La féodalité dans le nord de la France.
Histoire du château et de la châtellenie de Douai depuis le Xe siècle jusqu’en 1789, 4 vols.
(Douai, 1877–1887); G. Koch and F. D. de Mayer, ‘Douai à la fin du XIe siècle’, RN 33
(1951), 56–60; C. Verlinden, ‘Souveraineté flamande et souveraineté hennuyère à
Douai’, RN 18 (1932), 1–19. On the collegiate church of Saint-Amé, F. Brassart,
‘Mémoire sur un point important de l’histoire de Douai. Établissement de la
collégiale de Saint-Amé dans cette ville’, Souvenirs de la Flandre Wallonne 12 (1872),
5–62. On the region of Douai, see Delcambre, ‘L’Ostrevant’, and P. Feuchère, ‘La
Pevèle du IXe au XIIIe siècle’, RN 33 (1951), 44–55.
5 Espinas, La vie urbaine de Douai, pp. 14–17.
6 On the excavations at Douai, see most recently E. Louis, Mille ans de fortifications à
Douai, IXe–XIXe siècles (Douai, 1997).
7 Flodoard, Annales, ed. P. Lauer (Paris, 1905), a. 930, p. 46.
8 Flodoard, Annales, a. 930, p. 45; on Arnoldus and his family, see Dhondt, ‘Une
dynastie inconnue’.
9 Flodoard, Annals, a. 930, p. 46.
10 Flodoard, Annals, a. 931, p. 47.
11 Flodoard, Annals, a. 941, p. 81.
144
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
This is Arnould’s last mention in our sources. After Arnould’s death, Arnulf
of Flanders became master of Douai in circumstances which remain obscure.
Since 931–932, when he took over Mortagne and Arras, Arnulf had been
persistently pushing the boundaries of his county southward. In 952 Arnulf
was certainly in control of the northern part of Ostrevant since he had the
authority to chose the abbot of Saint-Amand, and his control of southern
Ostrevant (with Douai) was asserted in 956.12 Douai remained under Arnulf’s
control until his death in 965; as we have seen, his grandson Arnulf II could
not succeed him immediately because of his young age. The interregnum was
secured by Lothar IV, who temporarily took control of Artois and Ostrevant,
including Douai.13 These regions remained under Carolingian authority until
987, when Hugh Capet gave them back to their legitimate heir Arnulf II.
Ostrevant remained Flemish until 1071. Located on the border between
Hainault and Flanders, the region was much disturbed by the succession
crisis of 1070. From 1065, thanks to Baldwin VI’s marriage with Richildis,
countess of Hainault, Hainault and Flanders were ruled by the same Count
Baldwin I (VI); Baldwin’s young son, Arnulf, was supposed to inherit both
counties. At Baldwin’s death, his brother, Robert the Frisian, challenged his
nephew’s succession and required Flanders for himself. After his victory at
the battle of Cassel (1071), Robert mastered Flanders without contest. None-
theless, the castellan of Douai remained loyal to Countess Richildis;
Ostrevant succeeded from Flanders and was placed under the count of
Hainault’s authority. Douai, however, remained occupied by Robert the
Frisian, and its situation remained ambiguous until 1089, when both parties
agreed to officially re-integrate the town into the county of Flanders.14
The sources regarding the foundation of Saint-Amé are scarce and were
produced much later than the facts they record. Chronologically, the first
source to mention the collegiate church and the existence of a community of
canons at Douai is the Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium, written around 1024.
The notice about Douai also confirms the presence of St Amatus’s and
Maurontus’s relics there.
145
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
The earliest charter concerning Saint-Amé dates from the same period as the
Gesta. It is a charter dated from 1024, and given by Baldwin IV on the occa-
sion of the dedication of St Amatus’s crypt.16 Other charters – land donations
or personal offerings – were given to Saint-Amé after 1024: in 1031–1050,17
105118 and 1071–1074.19 Nevertheless, none of these texts documents the
circumstance of foundation of the community, and it was not before 1076 that
the story was written down. The foundation story of Saint-Amé survives in
two versions. The first one is represented by three charter-notices: two are
dated from 1076 – one signed by Count Robert and the other by King Philip –
and a third one, given by Gerard II of Cambrai, is dated 1081. The second
version is represented by a, probably forged, royal privilege, allegedly given
by Philip I in 1076. A close examination of the foundation story, and espe-
cially a comparison of the two versions, will shed light both on the circum-
stances of the redaction of these charters and on the aims pursued by the
canons.
146
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
(St Maurontus, son of the illustrious duke Adalbald and of St Rictrude, prop-
erly considered, in order to be inscribed among the chosen ones, to build from
bottom up a church . . . on his own property known as Breuil in ancient times
and today called Merville. At the time of Clovis, king of the Franks and son of
Dagobert, he bequeathed the properties which he had lawfully inherited to St
Amatus when he was still alive, as he had been exiled because of Theoderic’s
tyranny; and after the holy man’s death, in his honor, he [Maurontus] gath-
ered in the same church a congregation of holy brethren serving God.)
Like the VR and the VAL, the prologue contends that Maurontus built a
church on his patrimonial land of Breuil, that he bequeathed his possessions
to Amatus and that at Amatus’s death, Maurontus buried him at Breuil.25
22 Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium, lib. I, c. 23, p. 410; see Dolbeau, ‘Le dossier de S.
Amé’, pp. 102 and 105–6.
23 Actes de Philippe Ier, pp. 438–9.
24 Actes des comtes de Flandre, pp. 8–9.
25 VR, c. 24, p. 500; VAL, c. 23, p. 54.
147
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
This version, however, differs from the original story, because it contends
that Maurontus gathered the congregation at Breuil only after Amatus’s
death, while in the VR and the VAL, it is clear that the monastic community
pre-dated Amatus’s arrival, since the saint was considered as a living model
for the brethren.26
After the description of the foundation of Breuil, the prologue of the
charters departs from its model in order to introduce new historical elements,
which were recorded neither in the VR nor in the VAL, nor in any later
sources produced at Marchiennes. It relates that St Amatus and other saints
were brought to safety at Soissons at the time of the viking incursions (we
have already seen that they were in Ostrevant around 881–883). It is notable
that Robert’s charter transformed the vikings into Vandals.
The relics remained at Soissons until the time of Arnulf I of Flanders. Once in
control of Douai, Arnulf brought Amatus’s relics to the town, and placed
them in a church that seems to have pre-existed the translation, and probably
also Arnulf’s taking over. Let us note that Philip’s charter specifies that the
church was dedicated to the Virgin Mary, while Robert’s charter ignores this
detail. It also appears from the prologue that the religious community itself
was founded on the occasion of the translation. The transfer of St Amatus
from his defunct community of Breuil to his new community of Douai was
accompanied by a transfer of landed assets. These lands, granted to Saint-
Amé by Arnulf of Flanders, represent the inheritance that Maurontus had
received from his father Adalbald and that he had bequeathed to Amatus.
148
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
(As the aforementioned persecutions and troubles had calmed down and as
the site of Merville had been devastated by these atrocities (the Vandals’ cru-
elty), Arnulf the Elder, count of Flanders, by common counsel of his princely
lands, established, to exalt the divine grace, that the very holy body would be
translated to Douai and that he constitute the benefits bequeathed to him by
St Maurontus, as well as others, given by other men, which are enumerated
hereafter, for the use of the brethren serving God and St Amatus, in the
church of this town, previously built in honor of the Virgin Mary.
To these lands, which the charters enumerate after the prologue, and which
constitute the historical core of the domain, were added new lands, benefits
and exemptions granted by Arnulf II (965–988), Baldwin IV (988–1035),
Countess Adala (d. 1071) and Walter, castellanus of Douai.31 These new dona-
tions are also detailed in both charters.
The same foundation story of Breuil and Saint-Amé appears for the third
time in a charter given by Gerard II, bishop of Cambrai, on 23 May 1081.32 We
have seen that the king’s and the count’s charters presented small differences:
in Robert’s charter, vikings are replaced with Vandals; in Philip’s charter, the
original titulature of the church in which St Amé was translated (Saint-Mary)
is specified, while the detail is missing in Robert’s charter. Gerard II’s charter
follows the king’s version.
149
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
150
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
St Maurontus, son of the illustrious duke St Maurontus, son of the illustrious duke
Adalbald and of St Rictrude properly Adalbald and of St Rictrude, properly
considered, in order to be inscribed considered, in order to be inscribed
among the chosen ones, to build from among the chosen ones, to bequeath the
bottom up a church, . . . on his own properties which he had lawfully inher-
property known as Breuil in ancient time ited to St Amatus, bishop of Sens [sic]
and today called Merville. At the time of who had been exiled because of
Clovis, king of the Franks and son of Theoderic’s tyranny, and on his own
Dagobert, he bequeathed the properties property, known as Breuil in ancient time
which he had lawfully inherited by St and today called Merville, he built a
Amatus, bishop of Sens [sic] who had church . . . as a tribute to the holy bishop
been exiled because of Theoderic’s Amatus. After this, the Lord recalled to
tyranny, when he was still alive; and after Heaven the holy bishop . . ., Maurontus
the holy man’s death, in his honor, he buried him with honor in the above
gathered in the same church a congrega- mentioned church and, in his honor and
tion of holy brethren serving God. in the honor of God and this saint, he
gathered a community in the same
church.
This alteration is subtle, but significant, since it reinforces the idea that
Breuil’s community was first and foremost Amatus’s community. A less
subtle alteration of the foundation story of Saint-Amé purports to strengthen
the continuity between the old community of Breuil and the new community
of Douai. Indeed, the prologue of the royal exemption omits Amatus’s trans-
lation from Breuil to Soissons, and contends that the relics were directly
transferred to Douai, even before the vikings’ incursions.
And the congregation of brethren served And the congregation of brethren, dedi-
God as well as St Amatus in this church cated to God’s service, remained in peace
of Merville, until, as they were threatened in this church for a long time, until the
by the persecution of the Danish and cruel and rough race of the Danes and
Norman barbarians, the community Normans devastated Merville and all the
carried away the body of its patron saint surrounding regions. Nevertheless, as the
as well as other saints to Soissons, to persecution was imminent, the brethren,
protect it from the persecutors’ worried about their patron’s body,
incursions. carried it away to Douai to protect it from
the persecutors’ incursions.
151
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
As the above mentioned persecutions and and they placed them [the relics] in a
troubles had calmed down and as the site church dedicated to the Virgin Mary,
of Merville had been devastated by these which had been built by their predeces-
atrocities, Arnulf the Elder, count of sors on St Maurontus’s property. As the
Flanders, by common counsel of his above mentioned persecutions and
princely lands, established, to exalt the troubles had calmed down, and as the
divine grace, that the very holy body site of Merville had been devastated,
would be translated to Douai and that he Charles, king of the Franks, and Arnulf,
constitute the benefits bequeathed to him consul of Flanders, at the request of the
by St Maurontus, as well as others, given above mentioned brethren, who had
by other men, which are enumerated pleaded to them about their patron’s
hereafter, for the use of the brethren body, as he had called his bishops and his
serving God and St Amatus, in the church princes, with the advise of these men, . . .,
of this town, previously built in honor of they decided, to exalt the divine grace,
the Virgin Mary. that venerable Amatus’s body would
remain for ever in the church of the
Virgin Mary, in which, as we have said, it
had been translated.
The mention of Arnulf and King Charles in this context raises some chrono-
logical problems. Arnulf of Flanders’ only contemporary king to be named
Charles is Charles the Simple (879–893 and 898–922); Arnulf was count of
Flanders from 918 to 965. Hence, the decision made by the two rulers to keep
the relics at Douai had to be taken between 918 and 922. We have seen,
152
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
however, that Arnulf did not gain control of Douai before 943; his interven-
tion in the issue is thus very unlikely. Furthermore, the text suggests that the
events took place in the aftermath of the viking incursions, that is soon after
883. Another detail of the privilege raises suspicion: it says that the church
dedicated to the Virgin Mary had been built on Maurontus’s land by the ‘pre-
decessors’ of the Breuil community. Since we have seen that Douai did not
emerge before the tenth century, the construction of this church and the exis-
tence of a religious community are unlikely. Moreover, it is the first time that
it is asserted that Douai was part of Maurontus’s properties.
These new alterations to the foundation stories of Breuil and Saint-Amé
are extremely dubious. Another detail of Arnulf and Charles’ role in the foun-
dation raises even more questions: they would have granted Saint-Amé’s
libertas by means of a charter. The granting of libertas and property was alleg-
edly recorded in charters, which, unfortunately, had perished in a fire that
destroyed the church, its library and its archives:
Post multa siquidem tempora contigit ut ipsa ecclesia igne vastaretur, in quo
omne librarium simul et privilegia ecclesie perierunt.40
(A long time after that, the church was destroyed by a fire during which all the
library and the privileges perished.)
Hence, in order to protect the community from predators and maintain the
privileges given by Charles and Arnulf, Philip, king of France, confirmed and
renewed what his predecessor had granted. Strangely enough, the other
charters omit to mention these privileges and the fire that would have
destroyed them. Of course this type of reference to accidental destruction
often covers a forgery and should be considered suspicious. Finally, the fact
that Philip was acting at the common request of Robert the Frisian, count of
Flanders, and his historical rivals, Richildis of Hainault and her son Baldwin,
definitely undermines the credibility of this document.41
153
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
Douai. This episode is recorded in two distinct versions: one version (B) is
represented by the charters given by Robert the Frisian, Philip I and Gerard II
of Cambrai. Within version A, Robert’s and Philip’s charters present two
differences of details and Gerard’s charter follows Philip’s. The second
version (C) is represented by King Philip’s privilege of exemption, dated 1076
without mention of day and month. It is thus interesting, in order to explain
these differences, to examine in what aspects B and C differ from A on the
one hand, and in what aspects B and C differ from each other, on the other
hand.
The B and C story of the foundation of the community gathered by
Maurontus at Breuil in honor of St Amatus is inspired, factually and stylisti-
cally, by A, which was the only available source concerning these events.42
However, B and C diverge from A on an important point: according to A, the
community had already been founded by Maurontus when Amatus went to
Breuil/Merville, since he was said to be a model of piety for the community.
B and C assert, on the contrary, that before Amatus’s death, there was only a
church at Breuil, and that Maurontus explicitly founded the community
around Amatus’s relics. It is also notable that B and C do not completely
agree on this story either: according to B, the church was already built when
Amatus arrived, while in C, Maurontus built it for him. The twist in the
narration of the foundation of the Breuil community can be explained as an
assertion by the canons of Douai that the early community was not only origi-
nally a community dedicated to St Amatus but also that the purpose of its
foundation was Amatus’s cult. As the heirs to St Amatus’s cult and relics, the
canons of Douai wanted to co-opt the prestige of their patron saint – he was
so impressive that a monastic community was founded in his honor. Further-
more, as de facto material heirs to the landholding which originally belonged
to Breuil, the canons needed to emphasize their spiritual filiation – through
the cult of St Amatus – with the Breuil community.
The major discrepancy between B and C concerns the translation of St
Amatus’s relics to Douai. According to B, the relics were first brought to
Soissons, while, according to C, they were directly translated to Douai.
Nevertheless, both B and C agree on the date of the translation from Breuil –
the time of the viking incursions (881–883). Since the VR and the VAL do not
go beyond their heroes’ death, and since Hucbald remained carefully evasive
about the location of their shrines, neither the VR nor the VAL mentions
Amatus’s translation. The VAL was addressed to the community which
possessed Amatus’s relics.43 If we follow B, in 907, this place should have
been Saint-Médard at Soissons, since the transfer to Douai happened during
Arnulf’s reign (918–965). Nonetheless, no elements in the VAL, which
154
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
155
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
47 The status of Douai in these troubled years has been much disputed by modern
historians, and the question has not yet been satisfactorily resolved; see Koch and de
Meyer, ‘Douai à la fin du XIe siècle’.
48 23 May 1081, Archives Départementales du Nord, Lille, 1G 109, no. 282 and 1G 10,
no. 6.
49 Delcambre, ‘L’Ostrevent’, p. 258; Brassart, Preuves, XVIII. I and XVIII. III.
50 Delcambre, ‘L’Ostrevent’, pp. 257–60; charter given by Baldwin II to Marchiennes,
Archives Départementales du Nord, Lille, 10H 323.
156
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
these possessions was the assets that St Maurontus had allegedly bequeathed
to St Amatus, which Robert’s predecessors had augmented with their own
donations. In order to strengthen the legitimacy of their ownership, the
canons also felt the need to recount the circumstances in which they had
received them. This precision is all the more understandable because the
history of their landholding was an unusual one. They had received St
Amatus’s lands together with his relics. Heirs of St Amatus’s cult, the canons
of Douai were also heirs to his possessions. The transmission of lands from
one community – Breuil – to a new one, through the transmission of the
patron saint’s cult, also encouraged the canons to exaggerate the importance
that Amatus had at Breuil by asserting that the Breuil community was
founded exclusively in his honor. Hence, Amatus was the undisputed patron
saint of Breuil – this title could have also been attributed to Maurontus – and
it was thus legitimate that his belongings should follow him in his new
resting place. It is notable that the twelfth-century polyptych of Marchiennes
used the same narrative technique of assimilating a community’s land-
holdings to its patron saint’s alleged bequest, in order to sacralize and protect
them.
The third 1076 charter, the royal privilege of exemption which, as we have
seen, was probably forged after the other two charters, raises another set of
questions. Two problematic aspects of this privilege could yield some clue
regarding its date of fabrication: the reference to Baldwin and Richildis of
Hainault alongside Robert the Frisian, and the omission of the relics’ stay at
Soissons. The common request to Philip by Richildis, Baldwin and Robert is
suspicious, given the two parties’ troubled relations; this suggests that, when
they wrote the charter, the canons were still unsure of the outcome of the
struggle between Flanders and Hainault over Douai. We have seen that in
1089 Baldwin of Hainault was styling himself Duacensium comes. It is conceiv-
able that at the time of Robert’s death and his succession in 1093 by Baldwin
VII, the political situation of Douai became confused. Furthermore, the conse-
cration of a new ruler was a good opportunity to claim past exemption from
secular authority. The omission of the relics’ passage at Soissons and the
assertion that the church to which they were translated in Douai had been
built by brethren from Breuil on a piece of St Maurontus’s landholding could
yield another explanation. This version of the foundation story emphasizes
the filiation between the old and the new communities and pushes back the
foundation of the community by almost three quarters of a century. Félix
Brassart has suggested that the forgery could be related to the foundation of a
new community of canons at Douai. The origins of the collegiate church of
Saint-Peter at Douai are as obscure as the origins of Saint-Amé. Saint-Peter
appears for the first time in the sources in 1117, but it had been founded some
time earlier. The building of the new collegiate church, dedicated to Saint-
Peter, had probably started in 1105, and in 1112 a community of canons was
settled there. In these conditions, investing Saint-Amé with a longer history
157
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
would indeed have been a skillful way for the canons of Saint-Amé to empha-
size the antiquity of their community. And the attribution of a royal privilege
could only raise their prestige in the face of the rival community51
51 Brassart, ‘Mémoire sur un point important de l’histoire de Douai’, p. 15; the origins
of Saint-Peter at Douai are obscure, see P. Héliot, ‘Quelques monuments disparus de
la Flandre Wallonne: l’abbaye d’Anchin, les collégiales Saint-Pierre et Saint-Amé de
Douai’, Revue Belge d’Archéologie et d’Histoire de l’Art 28 (1959), 154–64.
52 Chronicon Vedastinum, p. 694.
53 Chronicon Marcianense, p. 456, and Annales Marchianenses, p. 611.
54 On the Liber Argenteus, see above, n. 22.
158
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
Adalbald to Erchinoald – and thus to Dagobert – had the effect of raising his,
and his children’s, prestige. Asserting that he was dux of Douai and that he
rebuilt the castrum and the church created a historical link between Adalbald,
the city of Douai and the church that would become Saint-Amé. For the canons
of Saint-Amé this interpretation of the VR, which said that Adalbald owned
lands in the pagus Atrebatensis, pushed back the consecration of their church to
the seventh century, and related this consecration to the family of one of their
tutelary saints, Maurontus. It is consistent with the second version of the foun-
dation story, found in the forged royal privilege, which asserts that Douai
belonged to Adalbald’s patrimony. By the same token, since, according to the
VR, Maurontus had bequeathed his heritage to St Amatus, the canons of
Saint-Amé could claim that they were living on a piece of land that historically
belonged to their patron saint.
Conclusion
The canons of Saint-Amé at Douai, amidst the political troubles that were
shaking the region of Ostrevant in the 1070s, felt an urgent need to have their
possessions confirmed by their secular authorities: the count of Flanders, and
his lord, the king of France. This confirmation was the occasion to inscribe on
parchment the history of the community’s origins, and above all, the history
of the transmission of its landholding. This rehearsing of the origins had to be
done in order to explain the circumstances in which the canons had been
endowed with their possessions, and, subsequently, to justify the legitimacy
of these possessions. The foundation legend of a religious community is
usually closely related to its patron saint’s legend. In the case of Saint-Amé,
its patron, Amatus, and its other major saint, his acolyte Maurontus, had a
past of their own, in relation to another community, the abbey of
Marchiennes, which the canons had to take into account. Because of the
geographical proximity between Marchiennes and Douai, the canons could
not deny that Amatus and Maurontus belonged to Marchiennes’ tradition,
and they had to integrate this tradition within their own foundation story.
Not only did they acknowledge St Amatus’s and St Maurontus’s past, but
also they took advantage of the prestige that could be drawn from their asso-
ciation with Rictrude’s cycle to further magnify their own past.
We have seen in the previous chapter that the name of Rictrude’s son,
Maurontus, was probably a creation of Hucbald of Saint-Amand. We have
also seen that Hucbald had only a vague idea about the identity of St Amatus
of Sion, whom he seemed to confuse to some extent with St Amatus of
Remiremont.55 The fate of these saints’ relics was as obscure as their legend.
55 Hucbald said that Amatus of Sion’s feast was 13 September, the day of Amatus of
Remiremont’s own feast.
159
The Hagiographic Cycle of St Rictrude
According to the VAL and the VR, Amatus was buried in the abbatial church
of Breuil. Probably because of his geographical estrangement from
Marchiennes, his cult does not appear to have been claimed by the commu-
nity, and his name does not appear in the twelfth-century miracle collections
from Marchiennes. Regarding his cult at Breuil, it is completely obscured by
lack of information on the community itself.56 As for Maurontus, the VR and
the VAL do not specify his burial place, while the eleventh-century Vita
Mauronti asserts, in contradiction with the earlier texts, that he became abbot
of Marchiennes and that he died there.57 The success of a cult, however, relied
on popular adhesion and institutional impulse and not on the saint’s histo-
ricity. Therefore, despite their shadowy histories, Maurontus’s and Amatus’s
cults and legends could be developed without problems at Marchiennes and
Douai. Despite, or rather thanks to, the elusive nature of Amatus’s and
Maurontus’s characters, their legends and cults were easily co-opted and
adapted by the canons of Douai.58 The canons borrowed the history of
Amatus and his community of Breuil from the VR and the VAL, and they
transformed it in such a way that St Amatus appeared not only to be Breuil’s
legitimate patron saint, but also to have been the community’s raison d’être.
This narrative artifice was clearly meant to legitimize the transfer of estates
from Breuil to Douai and to give a sense of antiquity to the canon’s commu-
nity. As for St Maurontus’s relics, the canons never justified their possession.
Given the ambiguity of the texts of Rictrude’s cycle concerning these relics, it
would have been easy for them to assert that St Maurontus reached Douai in
the same circumstances as St Amatus. Perhaps the fact that the community of
Marchiennes never seriously challenged their possession of these relics
exempted the canons from long justifications.
More or less at the same time as the foundation story of Saint-Amé was
elaborated, the canons incorporated their patron saint’s legend into the
history of the city of Douai by asserting that Maurontus’s father, Adalbald,
had been a duke of Douai who had rebuilt its castrum and founded the
church. This legend, which was repeated in twelfth- and thirteenth-century
chronicles from Saint-Vaast (Chronicon Vedastinum) and Marchiennes
(Chronicon Marcianense and Annales Marchianenses) also appeared in the
chronicle copied in the Liber Argenteus. The nature of the story leaves little
doubt that it was created at Douai rather than at Marchiennes. Beyond the
prestige that the canons could gain by asserting that their church dated back
to the seventh century, the legend also has implications regarding the
community’s landholding. Since Maurontus was Adalbald’s heir, and since
160
St Maurontus and St Amatus at Douai
161
CONCLUSION
1 G. Spiegel, ‘History, Historicism and the Social Logic of the Text in the Middle Ages’,
Speculum 65 (1990), 84.
162
Conclusion
163
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
164
Conclusion
165
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
166
Conclusion
our Rictrude and another woman named Rictrude in the Vita Richarii. Also,
the assertion developed at Douai, that her husband Adalbald was
Erchinoald’s brother, has no historical basis and resulted from a desire to turn
him into a local aristocrat who would have rebuilt the castrum of Douai. The
format of the VR, with its numerous characters, allowed for other develop-
ments. As a result, a twelfth-century tradition invented family links between
St Bertha of Blangy and St Rictrude, again because of a vague similarity of
names. Historians trying to assess a date or the veracity of a fact sometimes
trust these associations of names, because they are plausible. Nevertheless,
careful examination of early medieval narrative techniques shows that the
association of the patron saint and the community with a lay ruler, a presti-
gious bishop or a famous saint, was often a mere narrative device, used to
embellish and historicize an otherwise dubious story.
Dealing with the issue of truth and forgery in early medieval history is
extremely difficult. Forged charters may be the simplest case of forgery to
handle. Some are so obviously wrong in their date and wording that the
question of their veracity is not even an issue. Once the forgery has been
detected, the time and reason of fabrication can usually be inferred with a
little bit of detective work. The question of forged narratives is more difficult,
because it implies that a true version of the story existed, which was then
knowingly altered. The cases of the foundation stories of Saint-Bertin,
Marchiennes and Douai are, in this regard, good examples. The second foun-
dation story of Sithiu concocted by the monks of Saint-Bertin to assert their
superiority over the canons was a transparent transformation of the first
foundation story of the VA1, and its purpose is obvious. Nevertheless, there is
no way to assess whether the earlier text reflected a more truthful account of
the actual circumstances of the foundation of the community, simply because
the possible bias and agenda of the author of the VA1 remains unknown.
What is interesting in comparing the two versions is not so much the
discovery of a hypothetically true story, but, rather, the uncovering of the
message that the authors of both texts wanted to convey. Similarly, according
to the VR, Rictrude was not Marchiennes’ founder, and there is no mention
that she or her husband ever owned its patrimony. Nevertheless, this is
exactly what the foundation story inserted in Marchiennes’ polyptych asserts.
This is not impossible, given that the family owned neighboring Hamage, but
the question cannot be fully settled. Given the circumstances in which
Hucbald gathered his documentation to write the VR, the anteriority of the
VR over later texts of the cycle is not a warranty of truthfulness. Here again,
since we will never know for sure who St Jonatus was or in what year
Marchiennes was founded, what is interesting in the development of
Rictrude’s legend are the motives behind its alteration rather than its
veracity. Finally, the foundation of Saint-Amé exemplifies very well the
futility of disentangling the true and the false from foundation legends. We
have seen that in the first version of their foundation story, recorded in two
167
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
1076 diplomas, the canons of Saint-Amé had borrowed the foundation story
of Breuil from the VR; nonetheless, they altered the story so that it appeared
that the monastic community had been specifically founded by Maurontus
for Amatus’s cult after his death. In the original version of the VR and VAL,
Maurontus’s community pre-dated St Amatus’s arrival, since the VAL asserts
that Amatus became abbot of Breuil. Technically, the canon of Douai’s
version of the foundation of Breuil is a fabrication; but what about the story
of the VR? We have seen that Maurontus never existed and that St Amatus
was a most mysterious character. Neither of the two Breuil foundation stories
can be qualified as trustworthy. Here again, the interest of these stories lies in
their construction, and not in their authenticity.
The idiosyncratic way in which monastic communities dealt with their
enemies in the tenth and eleventh centuries reflects the absence of a unified
and efficient judicial system before the later twelfth century. In the course of
dispute settlement, communities could bring in a very broad array of docu-
ments, from charters to vitae to miracle stories, as evidence.2 In a context in
which the law was not yet a ‘circumscribed world requiring a close adherence
to set legal procedures and written forms’, each community had to find its
own way to thwart its enemies and to negotiate the most acceptable solution.3
This was all the more so, since the counts often proved unable to ensure a
proper administration of justice and settle conflicts. The polemical nature of
many texts in which monastic authors wrote about their community should
not mislead us into thinking that, struggle and conflicts with the outside
world was their only motivation. Clearly, historical narratives were at least as
significant within communities as they were to any external audience.
Writing about the community’s past purported to commemorate the sacred
origins of the community or to emphasize particularly prominent events, two
of many means to impress on rivals. But it was also a way for the community
to justify its existence and finality.4 The transmission of these stories within
the community ensured that the members knew and partook in the specific
character of their institution. Once the narrative became obsolete because of
new internal or external events, somebody felt compelled to re-write a new
story better fitted to the new circumstances and more meaningful, primarily
for the members of the group. Writing history was thus a powerful tool to
strengthen the cohesion and perenniality of a community.
2 On the impact of the absence of a centralized judicial system on the ways monastic
communities negotiated with their enemies, see B. Rosenwein, ‘Monks and their
Enemies’, pp. 764–9.
3 R. Fleming, Domesday Book and the Law: Society and Legal Custom in Early Medieval
England (Cambridge, 1998), p. 67.
4 See S. Vanderputten, ‘Pourquoi les moines du moyen âge écrivaient-ils de l’histoire’,
Studi Medievali, 3rd series, 42, fasc. II (2001), 705–23 (pp. 716–20). The author
develops the idea that such narratives boosted the community’s ‘self-confidence’.
168
Conclusion
169
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
centuries, the talent of local monks found more eager patrons on the other
side of the Channel. Folcard and Goscelin of Saint-Bertin are famous for their
prolific careers as hagiographers and biographers in England, where they
were commissioned by queens, bishops and religious communities to write
historical, polemical and hagiographic works.8
Relations between Saint-Bertin and England had long been close. Around
886, Grimbald had been called to England by King Alfred, who appointed
him abbot of Winchester; in 944, a group of dissident monks fleeing Gerard of
Brogne’s reform sailed to England where they were settled at Bath by King
Edmund. We have seen that at the turn of the millennium Abbot Odbert had
successfully sought the patronage of the archbishop of Canterbury,
Aethelgar, and his successor Siric.9 Manuscript illumination during Odbert’s
abbacy shows that the relationship had been fruitful financially as well as
culturally and artistically. Saint-Bertin was not the only Flemish monastery to
benefit from English patronage: many insular prelates, and singularly the
archbishops of Canterbury, maintained close links with most of the reformed
Flemish monasteries, such as Saint-Vaast and Saint-Peter at Ghent.
Around 1040, Queen Emma, wife of King Aethelred (d. 1016) and after
him of the Danish King Cnut (d. 1035), commissioned during her exile in
Flanders the so-called Encomium Emmae Reginae, a biography of her late
husband Cnut, from a monk of Saint-Bertin. Emma’s choice of a Fleming was
probably determined by circumstances, since she was exiled in Flanders at
the time – and perhaps few Englishmen would have been ready to support
her pro-Danish agenda.10 Whereas the author of the Encomium Emmae wrote
in Flanders for an English queen in exile, both Folcard and Goscelin pursued
most of their careers overseas. Folcard, who had written the third life of St
Bertin around 1050 for Abbot Bovo (1042–1065), left Flanders for England
between 1050 and 1066. In his preface to the vita of St John of Beverly, which
he wrote for Ealdred, bishop of York, Folcard relates that his abbot, out of
‘domestic hatred’, had expelled him ‘out of the monastic ship into the waves
of the sea’ with the assistance of the secular power. Although he does not
name them, there is little doubt that the abbey was Saint-Bertin and the
ungracious abbot was Bovo. The circumstances that led Folcard to England
are obscure. He relates that he had met Ealdred through a queen’s interces-
sion – she was probably Edith, Edward’s wife and Queen Emma’s daughter-
in-law. How Folcard met the queen is unclear. Frank Barlow suggests that
170
Conclusion
Folcard may have left Flanders for England with Goscelin, another monk of
Saint-Bertin. Goscelin came to England with Bishop Herman of Salisbury, a
man of Lotharingian origin who was entrusted with the bishopric of
Wiltshire thanks to his services to King Edward. Herman was then exiled at
Saint-Bertin from 1055 to 1058 but, thanks to Queen Edith, he was allowed to
come back to England and was given the bishopric of Sherborne. Goscelin,
who had probably met him during his years of exile, joined him shortly after
and remained in Herman’s entourage until the bishop’s death in 1078. Then,
he began a life of migration from monastery to monastery until he settled
down at St Augustine’s Canterbury. Until his death at the beginning of the
twelfth century, Goscelin wrote a great number of vitae for the monasteries he
visited as well as for St Augustine’s. His prolific talent earned him William of
Malmesbury’s praise. In 1065, Queen Edith commissioned a monk of Saint-
Bertin to write her ailing husband’s life: the Vita Edwardi Regis. The work was
completed in 1067, after the king’s death and the Norman Conquest. Its
editor, Frank Barlow has made a good case for attributing the text to either
Folcard of Goscelin.11
During the eleventh century, there was between English institutions and
Flemish writers a situation of demand and supply. Linguistic proximity, a
web of religious spiritual exchanges dating back to the mid tenth-century
Benedictine reforms, as well as a long tradition of cultural and diplomatic
exchanges provided a favorable environment for such relationships. Flemish
institutions, and singularly Saint-Bertin, had developed a high caliber
monastic school, which developed a strong hagiographic and historiographic
tradition. Nonetheless, as far as narrative production was concerned, these
communities remained mostly centered on their own history and used histo-
riography in a way that was useful and meaningful primarily for themselves.
Flemish rulers for their part displayed no interest, and perhaps had no
leverage, to take advantage of their monks’ skills to promote their politics
and dynasty. The writers who were willing to put their literary ability into
practice outside the walls of their monastery – or those who had to leave,
such as Folcard – found eager and enthusiastic patrons across the Channel –
bishops, monastic communities and queens in a difficult situation.12 There,
their commissioners made use of their literary skills, their talent as polemi-
cists and, sometimes of their ability to combine a great deal of imagination
with old sources to create new stories. It is exactly what Eadmer of Canter-
bury meant when, around 1120, he wrote to the monks of Glastonbury who
wanted to prove – wrongly – that they possessed the relics of St Dunstan:
‘Why didn’t you consult some foreigner from overseas? They are knowledge-
11 There is no room here to detail Folcard and Goscelin’s English careers: see Frank
Barlow’s study in The Life of King Edward Who Rests at Westminster Attributed to a Monk
of Saint-Bertin, ed. F. Barlow (Oxford, 1992), pp. xliv–lix.
12 E. van Houts, ‘The Flemish Contribution to Historical Writing’.
171
Creating the Monastic Past in Medieval Flanders
able, very clever, and they know how to write fiction; they would have
composed some likely lie which you could have bought.’13 There is no doubt
that this sentence can be applied to the many authors whom we have encoun-
tered in this book, who worked so hard for the creation of the monastic past
in Flanders.
13 Memorials of Saint Dunstan, n. 35, pp. 412–22 (p. 415); quoted and translated in E. van
Houts, ‘The Flemish Contribution to Historical Writing’.
172
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Index
193
Index
Eligius, bishop of Noyon 52, 55 Hamage 8, 97, 102–6, 108, 110–12, 118,
Elnon, see Saint-Amand 121, 128, 129, 134, 139, 167
Erchinoald 136, 137–9, 158–9, 167 Hildebrand, abbot of Saint-Bertin 5, 32,
Erkembod, bishop of Thérouanne and 71
abbot of Sithiu 26, 27 Hilduin, abbot of Saint-Bertin 28–9
Erluin, bishop of Cambrai 6, 71, 127, 131 Hincmar, archbishop of Reims 28–9, 120
Ernoldus, St Rictrude’s father 100, 136 Historia Translationis s. Benedicti 77–8
Eustasius, abbot of Luxeuil 19, 51, 61 Hucbald of Saint-Amand 2, 8, 10, 30, 95,
98, 115–22
Fleury 85 Hugh, abbot of Saint-Bertin and Saint-
Folcard, monk of Saint-Bertin 37, 79, 61, Quentin 28, 66, 83
169–71 Humfrid, bishop of Thérouanne and
Folcuin, bishop of Thérouanne 26–8, 33, abbot of Saint-Bertin 26, 28
61, 67 Inventio s. Bertini 50, 71–90
Folcuin, author of the Gesta Abbatum Inventio s. Gisleni 73, 78, 85
Sithiensium 61
See also Saint-Bertin and Gesta John of Saint-Amand 127–9, 130
Abbatum Sithiensium Jonas of Bobbio 21, 107, 133
Fontenelle, see Gesta Patrum Jonatus, abbot of Marchiennes 101–2,
Fontanellensium 107–8, 126, 129–30, 133–4, 136, 167
Fulcard, abbot of Marchiennes 114
Fulk, abbot of Saint-Bertin and arch- Lambert, abbot of Saint-Bertin 8, 36, 88–9
bishop of Reims 29, 30 Leduinus, abbot of Saint-Vaast 8, 35, 113,
Franco-Saxon manuscripts 45–6 127, 131
Fridugis, abbot of Sithiu 27, 44–5 Liber Floridus 33
division of Sithiu 57–60 Lothar II 29, 40
Lothar IV 3–4, 145
Gascony 100, 101, 108, 119–22 Louis the Pious 27, 28
Gerard, abbot of Brogne Luxeuil 19, 51
at Saint-Bertin 4, 5, 6, 31–2, 34, 35, 87,
90 Marchiennes 1, 4, 8
Benedictine reform and cult of relics foundation 97–102, 106–9
57, 59–60, 73–8 landholding 109–10, 113, 131
Gerard I, bishop of Cambrai 1, 4, 34, 113, Benedictine refom 35, 97, 112–14
127, 129–31 Polyptych 114, 132–6
Gerard II, bishop of Cambrai 146, 149,
154, 156 Nanthar I, abbot of Sithiu 27
Gertrude, abbess of Hamage 102, 108, Nanthar II, abbot of Sithiu 27, 44
121, 139 Nanthild, queen 101, 105, 122
Gertrude, abbess of Nivelles 126, 139
Gesta Abbatum Sithiensium 50, 57, 61–71, Odbert, abbot of Saint-Bertin 34, 37, 38,
78 46–9
Gesta Episcoporum Cameracensium 8, 115, Ostrevant 4, 6, 30, 31, 100, 101, 102, 144,
133, 137, 141, 145–7 145, 147, 155–6, 159
Gesta Patrum Fontanellensium 64, 77
Gislebert, duke of Lotharingia 4, 5, 74, Peace of God 7
85, 144 Péronne 104
Goscelin, monk of Saint-Bertin 37, 84, 85, Philip I, king of France (charter and
169–71 privilege for Saint-Amé) 146,
Grimbald, monk of Saint-Bertin 37, 170 147–53
Guntbert, monk of Saint-Bertin 44, 70 Pippin III 26–7
194
Index
195
Index
196
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