Regino of Prüm

Although Charlemagne is a famous name, and we know a lot about him, his descendants and the events of the Carolingian era are not always well-documented. There are a handful of chronicles written by various people, as seen yesterday, and Regino of Prüm was one of those chroniclers.

We know for certain that he was a Benedictine—probably at Prüm (in modern Trier, Germany)—and became abbot of Prüm from 892 to 899. Later he was abbot of St. Martin's Abbey. He became abbot at Prüm when his predecessor resigned after a second of two devastating raids by Danes on the very wealthy abbey. He worked to restore the damage, but local hostilities made it difficult to get the attention of wealthy patrons.

He lost the position of abbot because Richarius, from a noble family, wanted the position for himself. Richarius was the brother of two counts, and had no royal title available, so looked for a way to give himself power and authority. He later became Bishop of Lieges.

Regino went to Trier where he was welcomed by Archbishop Radbod, whose attempts at reform were supported by Regino. Regino lived in Trier until his death in 915 and was buried in St. Maximin's Abbey (previously mentioned here). There is a monument to him in Prüm (see illustration).

Regino left us some manuscripts. One was a treatise on music in an attempt to improve liturgical singing, and a collection of chants. He also wrote Chronicon, an attempt at a universal history from the birth of Jesus to 906, focused mostly on the Carolingian Empire. We learn a lot about early Bulgarian history from his effort. One curious fact that comes from the Chronicon: Regino was the first to use Anno Domini ("Year of the Lord") to mark years in history, replacing Bede's Anno Mundi ("Year of the World"). Regino's history was used by Cosmas of Prague. Although the accuracy of the Chronicon has been disputed, it was printed in Mainz in 1521, edited and published in 1826 in Germany, again in 1890, and an English translation was published in 2009.

I want to mention something else Regino addressed in his writing, and use it to examine a new topic. Regino mentions that ethnicity has four different facets: : genus (origin, race), mores (customs, behavior), lingua (language), leges (law).

Tomorrow I want to look at medieval theories of race and ethnicity, and how they determined who was "other."

Whaling in the Middle Ages

Yesterday's post referred to Ohthere of Hålogaland supporting himself partially through whaling. Whaling centuries ago should not be a shocking idea: evidence for whaling in Alaska has been found dating to 1000BCE, and there are neolithic depictions in Korea that may be about whaling as far back as 6000BCE.

Rather than going out into the open sea to catch a large animal, a common method was to take several small boats away from a shore where it was known that whales and dolphins consort, then forming a barrier in an attempt to drive them to beach themselves on shore.

Another method that presents less danger to sailors is to use a drogue, a floating object that is attached to a harpoon by a rope. If the harpoon makes solid contact with a whale, the buoyancy of the drogue makes it difficult for the animal to descend and tires it out so that the sailors can catch up with it. Melville's Moby Dick refers to druggs for this purpose.

Petroglyphs in Korea show boats surrounding sperm whales and humpback whales, but most whaling tackled smaller prey (see relative sizes here). Large whales were looked on to the medieval mind as scary and dangerous, but the smaller ones were gladly hunted for food and materials. One inventory of whales from the Middle Ages mentions the pilot whale (between five and ten meters long) as a popular target for its relatively small size and the ability to drive it into shore. Minke whales were also valuable due to their smaller size.

Smaller whales, porpoises, and dolphins that were driven to beach themselves were then clubbed or knifed. The body parts were divided equally among the participants. Some animals wound up on shore on their own and a call would go out to gather and finish it off (if it were still alive) and share the spoils before they spoiled.

The Dominicans Vincent of Beauvais (c.1190 - 1264) and Bishop Albertus Magnus (c.1200 - 1280) wrote of observing whaling; they both described it as a group project. Bede (672 - 735) also mentions the capture of whales.

Iceland had some very strict laws about whaling, which we will talk about tomorrow.

Geoffrey of Monmouth

Geoffrey of Monmouth may have been born in Monmouth, Wales, since he refers to himself that way (in Latin, he writes it "Galfridus Monemutensis"). He is called by some contemporaries "Galfridus Arturus" (Geoffrey Arthur), which may allude to his father's name or be a nickname based on his interests, since he writes about King Arthur. We assume he was born between 1090 and 1100. We don't really know his country of origin, and some assume his parents came over with William the Conqueror, but Galfridus and Arthur were common names among the Bretons.

A half-dozen charters in Oxford between 1129 and 1151 were witnessed by him, so he was definitely in the Oxford area during that time. He was ordained Bishop of St. Asaph by Archbishop Theobald of Bec in 1152, although he doesn't seem to have ever actually spent time at St. Asaph's because of the wars of Owain Gwynedd. He likely died by Christmas 1154, when he was succeeded by Bishop Richard.

His importance to the modern world was the time he spent writing, especially the Historia Regum Britanniae ("The History of the Kings of Britain"). Although he claimed it was a translation of an ancient book—a common boast of medical writers to give authenticity to their work, which was more important than claiming originality—it is a combination of the works of Bede, Gildas, the Historia Britonum, anecdotes from oral tradition, and his own powers of invention. Future writers like Henry of Huntingdon drew on it without question, and from Geoffrey's time until the 16th century it was accepted as accurate history. (To be fair to medieval historians, William of Newburgh (1136 - 1198) did declare that everything Geoffrey said about Vortigern and Arthur was made up.)

He starts his history with Brutus the Trojan, the great-grandson Æneas, founding (and giving his name to) Britain, and Corineus the Trojan founding (and giving his name to) Cornwall. One of his descendants, Leir, divides his kingdom between his three daughters (General, Regan, and Cordelia), giving a later Shakespeare fodder for one of his tragedies. Books Five and Six deal with Vortigern and Merlin, then Book Seven breaks up the history with a series of prophecies by Merlin, setting up not only the later chapters, but also events in Geoffrey's own time. Books Eight, Nine, and Ten tell the Arthurian story, ending with the return of the Saxons after Arthur's death.

Geoffrey's Historia was enormously popular, with about 200 extant manuscripts known as of the 20th century. His section on Arthur—and the Prophetiae Merlini ("Prophecies of Merlin") and the (attributed to him) poem Vita Merlini ("Life of Merlin")—have provided modern retellings of the Arthurian myth in story and cinema with plenty of dramatic details.

As mentioned above, there were historians like William of Newburgh who were more critical when it came to selecting their material and relating it to an audience. William, however, was not immune to relating stories whose interest for the audience was more important than his ability to confirm them. Medieval clickbait? Let's find out tomorrow.

Saxons versus Britons

A major victory of Saxons in England over the native Britons took place just south of Chester in the early 7th century. Æthelfrith, the king of Northumbria, is recorded to have attacked and defeated the kings of the Welsh kingdoms Powys and Rhôs. Anecdotal evidence of the death of King Iago of Gwynedd suggest that he, too, was a victim at Chester.

Other circumstantial evidence suggests that the Saxon King Cearl of Mercia was involved (not sure on which side), simply because Mercia's influence and activities disappears from records until King Penda in 633.

Why Æthelfrith attacked is unknown. Geoffrey of Monmouth and Reginald of Durham, writing hundreds of years later, say that Æthelfrith wanted to find a rival hiding in Gwynedd, but there's no real evidence for this.

Bede and the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle give motivation for the attack to St. Augustine of Canterbury's calling down of divine vengeance on the local bishops a few years earlier, who did not support him in his mission to convert England to Christianity. (He was bringing Roman practices, trying to replace the local practices.)

Coincidentally (?), Bede may have been right, and here's why: there was a monastery nearby, at Bangor-on-Dee. Knowing that the battle was brewing (it took time for armies to arrive and assemble before the fighting actually started), several monks fasted for three days, then climbed a hill to observe the battle and pray for the defeat of Northumbria. Æthelfrith had them slaughtered. Bede says only 50 of 1200 escaped. The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle offers a more reasonable tally of 200 priests slain. Whatever the number, some saw this as the result of Augustine's rejection by the Briton bishops. (Odd that a pagan king would strike so far outside of his realm to be the tool of Christian judgment.)

Lots of questions about the Battle of Chester remain. We really don't know why it was fought, or all the significant figures who died. Various writers view it through their own Roman Christian bias. One of them, Geoffrey of Monmouth, deserves a closer look, which he will get tomorrow.