The period during which the former Burgundian kingdom was subjected to Frankish overlordship lasted more than three hundred years, long enough for the original distinction between Franks and Burgundians to be blurred and for the Franco-Burgundian overlords to merge into the culture and society of the former Gallo-Roman population. Two dynasties were descended from the offspring of Clovis and Clothilda. The Merovingians, who ruled to 751, traced their bloodline to Merewig or Merovée, the grandfather of Clovis, and wore their hair long as a sign of royal status. The Carolingians, who ruled from 751 to 987, rose to prominence as ‘mayors of the palace’ of the Merovingian court at Jovis Villa (Jupille) on the River Meuse, and were descended from the famous warrior Charles Martel. Their mightiest son was Charles the Great, or Charlemagne (r. 768–814), whose dominions stretched from the Spanish March to Saxony and who raised himself to the dignity of emperor.
Those same centuries saw fundamental linguistic changes. In the days of Clovis and Gundobad, the old Frankish and Scando-Burgundian tongues had still been spoken alongside the late Latin of the Gallo-Romans. By Charlemagne’s time, all these vernaculars had been replaced by a range of new idioms in the general category of Francien or ‘Old French’. Frankish only survived in the Low Countries as the ancestor of Dutch and Flemish. Latin survived in stylized form as the language of the Church and as a written medium. Burgundian was totally submerged. The numerous variants of Old French are usually divided into two groups – the langue d’oïl and the langue d’oc. The former was characterized by the use of hoc ille for ‘yes’, hence the modern oui, and the latter by an unvarnished hoc, and in general by a closer adherence to its Latin roots. The line dividing the oïl and the oc ran right through the former Burgundian sphere, and is still very visible on today’s linguistic map.40
Within the Frankish realms, a territorial unit known as Burgundia always existed. Many of the Merovingians styled themselves kings of ‘Francia et Burgundia’ or of ‘Neustria et Burgundia’. (Neustria was the early medieval name for the north-western region round Paris.) In the late sixth century, one of the grandsons of Clovis and Clothilda, Guntram (r. 561–92), established a distinct Regnum Burgundiae, which functioned for a century and a half until it was reabsorbed by Charles Martel. This shadowy principality figures as No. II on Bryce’s list, though it would be better described as the ‘third kingdom’. Presumably on the grounds that it was not a fully sovereign state, its existence has often been ignored. Yet both of the preceding Burgundian kingdoms had similarly been subject to overlords.
Guntram or Guntramnus is an interesting figure, not just because he was declared a saint, but also because his armies fought as far afield as Brittany and Septimania in south-western Francia. For a time, as ‘king of Orléans’, he even shared dominion over Paris. He was the exact contemporary of the chronicler-bishop Gregory of Tours, who carefully recorded the progress of his reign, largely a non-stop series of wars, dynastic quarrels, murders, intrigues and acts of treachery. Guntram’s marital affairs were as complex as his military campaigns:
The good king Guntram first took a concubine Veneranda, a slave belonging to one of his people, by whom he had a son Gundobad. Later he married Marcatrude, daughter of Magnar, and sent his son Gundobad to Orléans. But when she too had a son, Marcatrude became jealous, they say… and poisoned [Gundobad’s] drink. Upon his death, by God’s judgement… she incurred the hatred of the king, and was dismissed by him. Next he took Austerchild, also named Bobilla. He had by her two sons, of whom the older was called Clothar and the younger Chlodomer.41
At one point, Gregory of Tours stops his narrative to present a sketch of Divio (Dijon), which was to have a special place in Burgundian history. He had just been talking about Gregorius, bishop of Langres:
[Divio], where [Bishop Gregorius] was so active… is a stronghold with very solid walls, built in the midst of a plain, a very pleasant place, the lands rich and fruitful, so that… a great wealth of produce arrives in due season. On the south it has a river… very rich in fish, and from the north comes another little stream, which runs… under a bridge… flowing around the whole fortified place… and turning the mills before the gate with wonderful speed. The four gates face the four regions of the universe, and thirty-three towers adorn the Wall [which] is thirty feet high and fifteen feet thick… On the west are hills, very fertile and full of vineyards, which produce such a noble Falernian that [the inhabitants] disdain the wine of Ascalon. The ancients say this place was built by the emperor Aurelian.42
Despite this air of plenty, if Gregory is to be believed, Guntram spent his final years fasting, praying and weeping. His capital lay at Cabillo (Chalon-sur-Saône), where he was buried in the church of St Marcellus. He was declared a saint by the spontaneous acclamation of his subjects, and became the patron of repentant murderers.
A corrective to what are sometimes thought Gregory’s excessively pro-Frankish leanings comes from Marius d’Avenches (532–96), bishop of Lausanne (later St Marius Aventicensis), famed both for piety and scholarship. Protector of the poor, he was said to have ploughed his own land; as a scholar, he restarted the work of St Prosper of Aquitania, extending Prosper’s Universal Chronicle to 581.43 The premier cleric of the age, however, was probably St Caesarius of Arles (d. 542), a formidable preacher, theologian and prelate. Born at Cabillo, he studied at Lerinum, and presided for nearly forty years as primate of Gaul.44 The Irish missionary St Columbanus (c. 540–615) would also have arrived in Guntram’s time. He lived partly as a guest at the Burgundian court and partly as a hermit in the Vosges.45
At its height in 587, Guntram’s Regnum Burgundiae briefly commanded the greater part of Gaul, including Bordeaux, Rennes and Paris, as well as the former Burgundy of Gundobad. It was too extended for its own good, and invited the depredations of its neighbours. Guntram’s sword-swinging successors performed numerous contorted exchanges of thrones and territory. Several rulers’ names are recorded by the chroniclers as kings of Burgundy, of Neustria and Burgundy, or of ‘all the Franks’; as well as Guntram they include Childebert II (r. 592–5), Theuderic II (r. 595–613), Sigebert (r. 613), Clotaire II (r. 613–29), Dagobert (r. 629–39), Clovis II (r. 639–55) and Clotaire III (r. 655–73).
Some phases of Merovingian history are irredeemably opaque, but the chronicler variously known as Fredegar, Fredegarius or the Pseudo-Fredegarius (d. c. 660) throws a shaft of light on the third quarter of the seventh century. He lived in a monastery, possibly at Chalon or Luxeuil, and started by trying to ‘improve’ a number of existing chronicles. But for eighteen years from 624 he compiled a detailed and reflective commentary on contemporary events which amply illustrates how the cult of the blood-feud was alive and well at all social levels of Franco-Burgundian society. A quotation from Attila is more than apt: ‘Quid viro forti suavius quam vindicta manu querere?’ (‘What could be more delightful for a strong man than to pursue a vendetta?’) Fredegar mentions an incident involving the emperor of Byzantium that nicely illustrates the cheapness of human life. After two Burgundian envoys had been killed in a brawl in Byzantine-ruled Carthage, the Emperor Maurice offered restitution in the form of twelve men, ‘to do with as you will’.46 Fredegar’s particular bugbear, not to say the object of his vilification, was the Visigoth princess Brunechildis, who came to the Burgundian court from Hispania and allegedly filled it with violence and hatred: ‘Tanta mala et effusione sanguinum a Brunechildis consilium in Francia factae sunt.’47
Fredegar’s narrative closes with the story of Flaochad, genere Franco (an ethnic Frank) and mayor of the palace, who sought revenge against a Burgundian patrician called Willebad. The two faced up with their followers outside the walls of Augustodunum:
Berthar, a Transjuran Frank… was the first to attack Willebad. And the Burgundian Manaulf, gnashing his teeth with fury… came forward with his men to fight. Berthar had once been a friend of his, and now said, ‘Come under my shield and I will protect you…’, and he lifted his shield to afford cover. But
[Manaulf ] struck at his chest with his lance… When Chaubedo, Berthar’s son, saw his father in danger, he threw Manaulf to the ground, transfixed him with his spear, and slew all who had wounded his father. And thus, by God’s help, the good boy saved Berthar from death. Those dukes who had preferred not to set their men upon Willebad now pillaged his tents… The non-fighters took a quantity of gold and silver and horses and other objects.48
As one leading scholar puts it, ‘The marvel of early medieval society is not war, but peace.’49
By Fredegar’s time, the Merovingian monarchs were being reduced to mere ciphers in the hands of those mayors and counts of the royal palaces. What is more, the political centre of gravity was passing to Frankish Austrasia (eastern Francia). Dagobert, who ruled over Neustria (the ‘new western land’), was to become the butt of a lovely French nursery rhyme: ‘Le Bon Roi Dagobert / A mis sa culotte à l’envers’ (‘Good King Dagobert / put on his trousers inside out’).50 He also established Paris as the main capital. A crucial battle at Tertry in Picardy in 687 ensured Burgundy’s subordination to Austrasia.
In the early eighth century, a movement for Burgundian separatism, started by the battling Bishop Savaric of Auxerre, provoked the very outcome which it had sought to avoid. Charles Martel (688–741), founder not only of the Carolingian dynasty but also, in large part, of the Carolingian Empire, descended on Burgundy to bring it to heel. Arriving as victor of the epoch-making battle at Tours against the Saracens in 732, he proceeded to expel them equally from their footholds in Provence and Languedoc. The storming of Saracen-held Arles in 736 was one of the high points of his campaign:
After assembling forces at Saragossa the Muslims had entered Frankish territory in 735, crossed the River Rhône and captured and looted Arles. From there they struck into the heart of Provence, ending with the capture of Avignon… Islamic forces [raided] Lyon, Burgundy, and Piedmont. Again Charles Martel came to the rescue, reconquering most of the lost territories in two campaigns in 736 and 739… [He] put an end to any serious Muslim expedition across the Pyrenees [forever].51
He also put an end to hopes that the Regnum Burgundiae might rise again at any point soon.
In the century following Charles Martel, the Frankish Empire flourished, faltered and fell. Charlemagne spent much of his time either in the north, in Aachen, or fighting on the peripheries of his lands against Moors, Slavs and Avars, and had little direct involvement with his Burgundian domains. Yet in 773 he assembled a great army in Burgundian Geneva for his Lombard War. Emboldened by favourable messages from the Roman pope, his forces marched over the Alps in two huge columns, one crossing the pass of the Mont Cenis, the other the Great St Bernard. Having reduced Pavia, the capital of the Lombards, by a long siege, he climbed the steps of St Peter’s in Rome on his knees as a penitent. Later, he created the first Papal State.52
In the tradition of his ancestors, Charlemagne planned to divide his empire between his sons. In the event, since only one son survived him, the empire stayed intact until it was divided in 843 between three of his grandsons. The Treaty of Verdun created divisions that would persist through much of European history. One grandson took West Francia, which was to develop into the Kingdom of France. Another took East Francia, which formed the springboard for a nascent Germany. The eldest grandson took a long strip of territory in the centre, together with the imperial title. Lothar’s ‘Middle Kingdom’ was equally composed from three informal sections. One piece of territory in the north stretched from the North Sea to Metz, where the name of Lotharingia (Lorraine) would live on. The second section, in the centre, was an extended ‘Burgundia’, including Provence. The third was a long swathe running south through Italy as far as Rome. As an integrated unit, Lothar’s realm proved to be a brief contrivance, yet its constituent parts long evaded permanent absorption either into France or into Germany. Burgundia was one of the most resistant.
Anyone grappling with the Carolingian legacy needs to keep the number ‘three’ to the fore; threefold partitions were performed three times over. Most students grasp that each of Charlemagne’s grandsons received a one-third share, and it is not hard to remember that Lothar’s ‘Middle Kingdom’ consisted of three sections. It is the third step, however, which is often forgotten. Within fifty years of the Treaty of Verdun, the former Regnum Burgundiae, now forming the middle section of the Middle Kingdom, was itself divided into three. (The mnemonic for the exercise is ‘3×3×3’.) This last tripartite division took place in three stages – in 843, 879 and 888 (contemporaneous with Alfred the Great’s Anglo-Saxon England) – and it produced three new entities: the Duchy of Burgundy in the north-west, the Kingdom of Lower Burgundy in the south, and the Kingdom of Upper Burgundy in the north-east.
The initial carving up of Charlemagne’s empire in 843, therefore, was but one step in a much longer process. Although Lothar took the greater part of the sometime Burgundian kingdom, including Lyon, about one-eighth of it was awarded to West Francia. This strategically important award, consisting of the upper valley of the River Saône, including Guntram’s centre at Chalon, was one of the few clauses of the Treaty of Verdun to prove permanent, and gave its new rulers a bridgehead on the southern slopes of the continental divide. Henceforth West Frankish forces, and later the armies of France, enjoyed a secure point of entry to the road to Italy.
At Verdun, West Francia’s acquisition was originally given the traditional name of Regnum Burgundiae, but the designation proved a dead letter and for a time the area was not awarded any special status. A permanent solution was only found in the 880s, when West Francia adopted a comprehensive administrative structure made up of duchies and counties. Seven ‘primitive peers’ were created, each with the rank of dux or duke (governor), and each heading a string of dependent counts. The Duchy of Burgundy took its place alongside Aquitaine, Brittany, Gascony, Normandy, Flanders and Champagne. It represented Bryce’s Burgundy No. X, although in chronological order it was the fourth.
Predictably, the duchy’s affairs did not run entirely smoothly. The central figure in a long series of contorted conflicts was Richard the Justiciar (c. 850–921), a brother of the West Frankish queen, Richildis, wife of Charles the Bald. Richard, whose family base was Autun, travelled to Rome during Charles’s imperial campaign, and was eventually rewarded with the governorship of (West Frankish) Burgundy with the title first of marchio (marquis, that is, border lord) and then of duke. His deathbed confession became famous: ‘I die a brigand, but have saved the lives of honest men.’
From 1004, the kings of France took direct control of the duchy from the heirs of the Justiciar. Sometimes the duchy was granted in fief, sometimes held by the king in person. Until 1361, the list of dukes contained twelve names, starting with Robert le Vieux (d. 1076) and finishing with Philippe de Rouvres (r. 1346–61). The list of subordinate vassals included the counts of Chalon, of the Charolais, of Mâcon, Autun, Nevers, Avallon, Tonerre, Senlis, Auxerre, Sens, Troyes, Auxonne, Montbéliard and Bar; each of their houses would forge a long, colourful story of its own. With some delay, the duchy’s administrative centre settled at Dijon, which lies on a south-flowing tributary of the Saône, appropriately called the Bourgogne, and conveniently located for easy access over the Plateau de Langres into Champagne, or upstream to the headwaters of the Seine and the road to Paris.53
The duchy was already the home of venerable monastic foundations, but some new names were now added. The house of Cluny, which followed the Rule of St Benedict, is often seen as the motherhouse of Western monasticism, and was founded in 910; it was the alma mater of three or four popes.54 The abbey of Tournus, another tenth-century foundation, sheltered the relics of the martyred St Philibert. The abbey of Cîteaux, mother of the Cistercian Order, was founded in 1098. St Bernard (1090–1153), Church reformer and founder of the Knights Templar, arrived there as a young man,55 and on 31 March 1146 preached the Second Crusade from the hall of the abbey of Vézelay. The abbey of Pontigny on the River Yonne dates from St Berna
rd’s time.
The monks of these Burgundian monasteries are widely credited with the revival of the neglected art of viticulture. They were not the original pioneers, since the donation of a vineyard to the Church was recorded in the time of King Guntram. But they themselves, at the communion service, were wine consumers; and on the slopes of the Côte d’Or or of the ‘Côtes de Beaune’ they patiently developed vineyards of unsurpassed quality, inventing both the production methods and the time-honoured vocabulary of the cru, the terroir and the clos. Burgundy reds are grown from the pinot noir grape; most that now head the list of Grands Cru, such as the Domaine de la Romanée-Conti near Vosne, once the property of the abbey of Saint-Vivant, or Aloxe-Corton, which was launched by the cathedral chapter of Autun, or Chambertin, founded by the abbey de Bèze, started as medieval ecclesiastical enterprises. The white wines of Chablis were invented by the monks of Pontigny. The Clos de Vougeot, first planted by the monks of Cîteaux, knew just one proprietor from 1115 to the French Revolution.56
Chanter le vin – ‘celebrating wine in song’ – has formed part of the duchy’s heritage ever since. Many of France’s timeless drinking songs, like ‘Chevalier de la Table Ronde’, or ‘Boire un petit coup’, derive from Burgundy, and they celebrate a culture of good wine, good food, good company and above all good cheer:
Le Duc de Bordeaux ne boit qu’ du Bourgogne,
mais l’ Duc de Bourgogne, lui, ne boit que de l’eau,
ils ont aussitôt échangé sans vergogne
un verr’ de Bourgogne contr’ le port de Bordeaux.
‘The Duke of Bordeaux drinks only Bourgogne, / but the Duke of Bourgogne he drinks water alone, / so neither felt shame when they sought to exchange / a glass of Bourgogne for the port of Bordeaux.’)57
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