Köln im Frühmittelalter (400-1100) portrays Cologne's history in the Early Middle Ages. It's part of a twelve-volume series of awe-inspiring folios onKöln im Frühmittelalter (400-1100) portrays Cologne's history in the Early Middle Ages. It's part of a twelve-volume series of awe-inspiring folios on the history of the city.
At its lower bound the age is defined by the end of the Roman Empire and by the Franks taking over as the dominant force in Gaul. Over the next centuries, Cologne will be ruled by three dynasties, the Merovingians, the Carolingians, and the Ottonians, and their reigns mark the sections of the book. However, for the book's focus of Cologne as Holy City (one of only four thus recognized), it's the archbishops whose influence in the urban areas often overshadows even that of kings.
Let's address the elephant in the room, the body of contemporary source material is rather tenuous. Often scholars have to rely on documents written decades or even centuries later or extrapolate from archaeological evidence acquired in more modern days. When we do have the writings (mostly of monks), they often take the form of uncritical praise and legend.
Personally, I don't mind the situation too much. The fabricated narratives that make up the vitae written for saints can be amusing to hear and often became historic when later believers put their faith in them. That is, the creation of churches and their perception was based on admiration of shining virtue portrayed in legends. Sadly, though, often we don't even know any details about the oral traditions that kept sainthood alive.
Under more favorable circumstances, the hagiography allows for plausible assumptions on actual events. As with two stories on Severin, most likely the last Colognian archbishop of Roman days. One story recounts how he witnessed Saint Martin's ascension to heaven, while the other is about his God-proclaimed arrival in Bordeaux (essentially telling his predecessor to beat it and make room for someone more competent). Assuming that both talk of the same person (which is surprisingly uncertain), we might infer that the Christian must have fled the city when the barbarians took over.
The book discusses some amazing findings. One again concerns Severin, whose real human remains were discovered under the church that bears his name. Not only that, only half of his body was discovered! And not even the part that includes his head. It's fun to think about where the other half might have ended up. Based on the two stories – incidentally retold by the famous Gregory of Tours – you might think that the other half might have gone to Bordeaux. The archbishop there might have wanted to take (a) part in the sanctity that comes with the possession of relics like this. As so often, though, we don't really know for sure.
Other things we do know with a high degree of certainty. Under today's gothic cathedral archaeologists (led by Otto Doppelfeld, director of the Römisch-Germanisches Museum at the time) were able to find two graves, one of a young woman and the other of a boy. We don't know who the boy was (other than the obvious fact that he must have been some nobleman's son), but the woman was almost certainly Wisigarde, wife of Merowingian King Theudebert I.
It blows my mind to think that we can identify people who died 1,500 years ago. Or how we can identify some of the objects' origins and connect them with the backgrounds of known people. This is something the book often does. For instance, one of the later chapters discusses a famous door in St. Maria im Kapitol that is beautifully decorated with Biblical narratives and that was created on initiative of the church's patroness. The non-narrational prose can be admittedly dull, but in this way the accounts at least gain some personality.
What I loved was how almost every single page is beautifully illustrated. If the objects and artifacts still exists, it's almost certain that there are photos next to the descriptions. There are maps, genealogies, groundplans, 3D models, and drawings to give substance to a time that is more characterized by its ideas and believes than its material remains.
One particularly memorable figure was Archbishop Hildebald who was Charlemagne's arch chaplain. Through his support he was able to build the Old Cathedral (the predecessor of the gothic church),. He also played a role in the Carolingian educational reform and the appreciation for the vernacular. He advocated for prayers in languages other than Latin/Hebrew/Greek and accepted that the uneducated learned the confession of faith and the paternoster only in their own speech.
Under Hildebald the cathedral initiated its first library, which for some reason was my favorite passage in the book. I don't know, I just love the idea of books coming into the world as those highly valuable objects that are only to be written in the exalted languages. As Abt of Mondsee Hildebald is also associated with the creation of what survived as fragments of the oldest known translation of the Bible into Old High German, the Mondseer Fragmente.
The next archbishop whose discussed at length is Brun. He was brother of Emperor Otto I and as such he was made him military as well as spiritual leader. To me he is also interesting because he strictly separated the two domains, maybe not unlike Marcus Aurelius. Similar to the latter, he was also interested in philosophy, in Aristotelian logic in particular, a subject-matter not widely appreciated at the time. Don't expect to hear from the most famous medieval philosophers active in Cologne, though. Albertus Magnus, Aquinus, Meister Eckhart, or Duns Scotus lived in the period that followed only soon after.
Brun's influence is still visible in today's townscape and its expansion towards the River Rhine. He supported the creation of Groß St. Martin and what would become Alter Markt and Heumarkt, in a time that saw the (temporary) increase in commerce. He is also associated with St. Pantaleon, a hospital and church named after a Greek saint and healer. This is where he was buried and where his sarcophagus is still present.
In other respect the book revises assumptions of older generations of Cologne scholars. This is especially true for Archbishop Anno, who was priory believed to have been somewhat leading in the recolonization of the area. Archaeological evidence most importantly in the Heumark area now proved that Cologne had never been abandoned. Anno's legacy is more rightfully grounded in his ability to accumulate relics, often by often rather ruthless means.
The book is structured chronologically, with contextualization as to what was going on at the times in question. Admittedly, at times Cologne is only of peripheral importance to the European political developments under discussion, and occasionally I felt that entire subsection might have been crossed out to strengthen the account of the city's history. At other times the discussion of topics remains very unsatisfactory due to our lack of historic sources, as when it talks about the 11.000 Virgins (associated with St. Cäcilia) or the "Kölsche Sproch".
Frankly, I'm not sure how much of it I'll remember in the future. With few exceptions the Early Middle Ages are not the time where we can vividly imagine actual events. We know of the accomplishments of certain powerful men, and other than that there were less than twenty thousand people doing their agriculture within the Roman and medieval city walls and perhaps talking of the saints that justify the holiness of their city. In fact, even the idea of them being part of something like a city, i.e. Cologne as being part of an identity, only gradually developed in those days.
But of course all this is not the book's "fault". If you take into consideration the lack of reliable sources, then Köln im Frühmittelalter (400-1100) will well serve your expectations.
I've been reading quite a few books on medieval history the past couple of weeks. Chris Wickham's Medieval Europe is different, as it's less concernedI've been reading quite a few books on medieval history the past couple of weeks. Chris Wickham's Medieval Europe is different, as it's less concerned with the actual events than it is with overall trends and interpretation. It traces political, cultural, and economic transformations from the time when the Roman Empire yielded to other societies til up to 1500,. To illustrate and ground his arguments, the author discusses what was generally going on at the times in question.
For the most part the style worked well. Wickham identifies plausible political units and you often get the overall sense that they were going where they would end up because of what was happening before. With this style of presentation its difficult to avoid the CliffsNotes vibes, but especially in the very early chapters there were somewhat unambiguous take-aways for what defines the early Middle Ages.
Yet, although the chapters are structured as much topically as they are ordered chronologically, there were times when I struggled to discern how sections are about the themes that were promised by the titles and introductions. The chapter on Christianization is a case in point. The author takes a closer look at five countries: Ireland, England, Denmark, Norway, and Poland. However, religion appears only sporadically. The focus is much more on transformations of the political system, occasionally explicitly noting that the influence of religious transition was limited.
Some examples can be puzzling, too. For instance, in the chapter on gender relations Whickham presents a picture in which the influence and freedom of women in the Middle Ages is severely limited. What he then discusses are atypical cases of mysticism of women that are interesting in themselves, but whose relevance for the history of Europe seems neglectable. To my uneducated mind the likes of Joan of Arc or Empress Matilda (who fought King Stephen for her right to rule) would have been more fitting here.
The books tone didn't really resonate with me, either. It's difficult to tell how much of it is by publisher's demand (to serve its advertisement), but some passages feel as if informed by an overblown sense of his own originality or are even somewhat condescending when discussing views of his peers. This is especially striking when you stumble across lazily researched marginalia, as when Whickham tells us that Vikings would mean "pirates" (which even as a simplification feels totally inappropriate).
I learned a lot from Medieval Europe, and I'm sure I'll return to it as soon as I gathered more of the actual facts to be interpreted. But it gave me less joy than many of the other works of medieval history I've read as of late.
Imagine you were a little boy or girl and the Middle Ages were all swords and horses, war and glory, kings and noblemen. In the Plantagenet era this wImagine you were a little boy or girl and the Middle Ages were all swords and horses, war and glory, kings and noblemen. In the Plantagenet era this was the reality. For the little boy that I am the narratives couldn't be more exciting. They are filled with castles, betrayal, honor, ruthless assassinations, political scheming, adultery, and melodramatic emotions.
They are the kind of stories you would think were fiction, had they not appeared as honest-to-god historical writing. Yet, I found myself treating them in fictional categories. That is, I constantly found myself thinking such silly thoughts as, oh Richard I is now my favorite English king, how awesome is Edward I., how dashing Edward III. If good storytelling is based on strong characters, British history did a very good job.
The opening is already quite spectacular. When the White Ship drowned after some heavy drinking, Henry I was suddenly without heir to the English throne. Since the aging king wasn't able to produce another legitimate son (begetting children was never much of a problem before), he eventually made his daughter Matilda his successor. Acceptance wasn't there and a decade-long civil war ensued between her and her cousin, the self-proclaimed King Stephen. The woman was determined to take what she thought was rightfully hers.
From there we go on to Henry II and his glorious yet surprisingly non-violent re-conquering of England. In later decades he's mostly remembered for his volatile relationship with the later Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas Becket. To make it brief, it's easy to see why movie bosses could be convinced the events presented blockbuster material.
For the most part, the book fully keeps up the momentum. The kings are very different in style and personality. The relationship between England and its neighbors is quite interesting, too. At some point the dynasty would loose its Continental territories, later it would gain control over Wales (where Edward I. built the most spectacular castles) and even Scotland. The relationship with the King of France is evidently another lasting source of tension. However, the most forceful antagonists are always found among the king's own vassals.
For me The Plantagenets: The Kings Who Made England was quite the page-turner. It doesn't spend much time on interpretation or on discerning any lasting trends or patterns. It's fully dedicated to the events and to telling them in the most striking fashion. To keep with the pathos, in this it succeeds gloriously.
Marc Morris makes castles the focal point of narratives that are naturally filled with violence and vanity. If you are in any was susceptible the storMarc Morris makes castles the focal point of narratives that are naturally filled with violence and vanity. If you are in any was susceptible the stories magically spark boyish excitement for medieval fortresses, especially when it comes to the war-deciding buildings of William the Conqueror, King John, and Edward I.
Every chapter has its overall arc that seamlessly integrates architecture, personal storytelling, and development of the culture as a whole. In that way the reader gains a very good sense of what castles were like in the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries. After initial reluctance – castles were considered a foolish invention of people from the other side of the Channel – castles were often a determining factor in British history as well as mirroring the zeitgeist. In that way the book often reads as an inspired yet admittedly sketchy History of Britain.
I don't really have a head for visual imagination, at least not when it comes to architectural description, so I think many details would have passed me by without leaving a vivid image. Frankly, this is what happened on my first reading. It was only afterwards that I learned that even before the book was published Morris hosted an eponymous show on Channel 4. It's really awesome to be able to visit those places and to have experts explain things in more tangible terms.
The occasionally tongue-in-cheek but always vivid prose is a joy to read. There were quite a few moments where passing remarks had me chuckle for a bit. More importantly, it masterfully incorporates the details necessary when Morris tackles the puzzling questions that prompt themselves after a fuller appreciation of the facts.
It's especially in the last three chapters that the role of castles isn't as evident as it initially was. The overarching theme appears to be why castles hang on to their cultural significance long after technological advances diminished their military might. Honestly, my fascination vanished when I learned that later buildings like the epic Bodiam Castle where consciously built as fake fortresses.
Consequently, the narratives weren't as anchored as they had been in the earlier chapters. They still depict exciting times in British history, like civil wars or the tumultuous times in Scotland's past (apparently it's not all conflict and bloodshed). Still, castles now appear as popular scenes among many rather than representing history in the making.
Castle: A History of the Buildings that Shaped Medieval Britain is the kind of book that makes me wish there were similar works for the castles in Germany and France. Or for churches, monasteries, and cathedrals (please write if you have any recommendations!). It's history in its most exciting form, not the least because of the documentaries that accompany the chapters.