Bishops, Priests and Ecclesiastical Discipline in Tenth and Eleventh-Century Lotharingia

An Episcopal Handbook

T is a small, practical manuscript, comprising 145x100 mm ( slightly smaller than an A6 paper ) and 338 folia. A contemporary hand describes its contents as follows: “This volume contains books of the catholic faith, doctrines of the church as well as the clerical offices, canons and penances.” ^[18] It is an apt, albeit brief, description of the manuscript’s content, and as good as any that is currently available. Despite the numerous scholarly publications that feature material found in T, such as those considering the ‘Admonitio Generalis’, the first episcopal statutes of Theodulf of Orléans ( c. 760–821 ) or the first book of Halitgar of Cambrai’s ( d. 831 ) penitential, no attempt has yet been made to describe or study the entire manuscript ^[19]. The reasons for this are likely twofold: two of its largest collections ( roughly sixty per cent of its content ), namely the previously mentioned ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ and Pseudo-Alcuin’s ‘Liber de divinis officiis’, a lengthy treatise from the first half of the tenth century on liturgical matters, the ecclesiastical offices and their duties, remain unedited, and T contains numerous texts besides ^[20]. I have included a detailed description of the texts found in T ( see appendix 1 ), as well as its codicological structure, to remedy this fact.

While the description inscribed on the first folio does not tell us much, it is nevertheless correct in dividing the manuscript into five distinct parts. The first part ( fols. 2r–40r ) consists of expositions on matters important to the Christian faith and its daily performance, particularly for clerics. The second part ( fols. 44v–157v ) serves as a reference work on Christian doctrine and all aspects relating to the Church, its clerical staff and liturgy. The third part ( fols. 158r–243v ) consists of a large collection of mainly canon law, primarily that which covers ecclesiastical discipline and the bishop’s role in the matter. The fourth part ( fols. 244r–324r ) is made up of three penitentials, providing their reader with the tools to hear confession and carefully administer penance. The fifth and final part ( fols. 324r–337v ) consists of a series of questionnaires covering much of what is discussed elsewhere in T, for example on the Creed, the Church and the sacraments. These diverse contents have resulted in different characterisations, ranging from a manuscript meant for synodal gatherings and the administration of episcopal justice, to a book meant for a more pastoral context, or one produced for the preparation of clerics for ordination ^[21]. As will be demonstrated below, the most fitting summary of its contents is a combination of these characterisations, which makes sense, as T has only been dealt with in part so far.

First and foremost, however, T is a planned codex, evidenced by the aforementioned orderly division of the manuscript into several thematically coherent parts, its codicological composition and additional reading aids found in the manuscript. One such example is the fact that T is composed of a mostly regular sequence of quires ( quaternions ) in which the texts often continue into the next set of folia: composing a manuscript in this way required careful preparation and planning. Other examples are the continuous markings found on the first folio of each quire ( except for quire nr. 8 where it is the very last one ) that run through its entirety and show that T was conceived as one codex ^[22]. The numerous tables of contents in the manuscript that provide quick access via numbered chapter headings to its sometimes-hefty contents add to this impression. The lengthy table of contents ( fols. 40v–44r ) to Pseudo-Alcuin’s ‘Liber de divinis officiis’ and the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ are the first to stand out. Furthermore, the expositions and sermon at the beginning and three penitentials at the end all have their own tables of contents; the contents page of the ‘Paenitentiale Trecense’ includes the headings of the subsequent questionnaires as well ^[23]. The manuscript thus appears to be carefully organized. The tendency of its scribes to compress their writing in an attempt to fit as much text as possible on a page suggests that the manuscript was composed of multiple parts that were written simultaneously and then fitted together ^[24]. The remaining empty space between the quires had to do for the tables of contents, even when sometimes this meant doubling the number of lines on a page.

The amount of planning and effort that went into the creation of T shows that it is not just a collection of texts but a codex with a specific purpose. To understand the purpose of T, we will examine the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’, which serves as a bridge between the expositions on the Christian faith and the ‘Liber de divinis officiis’ on the one hand and the penitentials and questionnaires on the other. To this end, we will focus on the primary tools bishops had at their disposal to impose ecclesiastical discipline, namely diocesan synods and the Sendgericht, to understand how the collection can be used for this purpose and in what way this is supported by the rest of the manuscript’s content.

Diocesan synods

One of the ways in which a bishop could keep an eye on his priests was by organising a diocesan synod within his see. The Christianisation of the countryside in Europe during the fifth and sixth centuries had forced clerics to move away from the cities and led bishops to hold annual, and later also biannual, gatherings for their clergy ^[25]. The Carolingians further institutionalised ecclesiastical discipline for priests using conciliar decrees and royal and episcopal statutes. For instance, the Concilium Germanicum issued in 742 required a yearly gathering of the clergy ^[26]. At the council of Ver in 755, the attendees of such gatherings were described as priests, and sometime later at the council of Rome in 843, it was stipulated that the attendance of priests at local synods was of utmost importance, especially since they were spread across various baptismal churches and chapels ^[27]. Similarly, archbishop Herard of Tours ( d. 871 ) wrote to his priests that “[ … ] they are to come to the synod without delay. If not, then they are to be stripped of their office.” ^[28] One of the purposes of these gatherings was for the priests to receive new supplies of holy oil and chrism, another was to be examined by their bishop on the “purpose and procedure” of their ministry ^[29]. While these were certainly not the only things that happened during such gatherings – for instance, priests might also hand over the tithes they received or bishops might issue charters to confirm property transactions – the examination is of primary interest in this case, for it quite directly imposed discipline on the priests of the diocese ^[30].

What these examinations might have looked like can be gleaned from ordines ( that is, liturgical instructions ) that describe the course of local synods ^[31]. One such ordo is found in our manuscript T ^[32]. The text likely predates the manuscript itself ^[33]. Based on mention of penitentials ascribed to Bede, instead of anonymous ones, and the terminology describing archdeacons instead of chorbishops in some of its versions, the ordo seems to be firmly established in the first half of the ninth century when these changes took place ^[34]. In contrast to versions in other manuscripts, the ordo in T serves as the first capitulum of the already mentioned ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ that is unique to our manuscript. If we consider the nature of T as a carefully planned codex, the prominent position of the ordo shows that it was considered useful as an introduction to the collection, which is indeed closely tied to the events depicted in the ordo. In the following, I will briefly describe what a diocesan synod looked like using the ordo, in this way establishing the context in which to interpret the material. Then I will show how the ordo relates to the collection and the rest of the manuscript’s content.

After priests had been summoned to the synod and subsequently arrived, the bishop greeted them with a passage from Gregory the Great’s ( c. 540–604 ) ‘Regula pastoralis’ and additional reflection on scripture in the form of a homily. Afterwards, the bishop gave a sermon about the “weight, danger and importance of the priestly office.” ^[35] Then teachers and examiners, as well as archpriests and cardinals, were instructed to inspect the knowledge of the priests that had gathered there, both those who resided in the surrounding villages and those who lived in the city itself ^[36]. The inspection had to be done using “distinct capitularies” ^[37]. Before the clerical inspectors were allowed to fulfil their task, however, they were first inspected themselves and had to account for their office before the bishop ^[38]. Then, while the priests were examined, the bishop would discuss the lives and reputations of the priests with the rest of the clergy present ^[39]. In this way, unfit but smart priests that were able to fool the inspectors would still be caught because of their non-exemplary behaviour. At the same time, a bishop was supposed to hold a court and listen to the complaints or accusations made by the clergy and laity against his priests, whom he then had to punish according to the canons ^[40]. The priests that did not pass their examination because they were too incompetent and ignorant were urged to remain in the city to receive additional training. Those who did not improve afterwards eventually had to give up their office ^[41]. After the examinations had finished and the bishop had been informed of the results, priests had to present the instruments they used for their ministry, such as books and vestments, so these could be inspected and corrected if necessary ^[42]. The priests that had passed each step of the process would be sent off to their respective villages with the bishop’s blessing ^[43]. Whether these were priests that had just been ordained is unclear. An annual or biannual repetition of such an examination process for every priest seems excessive, even by Carolingian standards ^[44]. Therefore, the ordo possibly contains multiple forms of ecclesiastical discipline that are difficult to untangle as no distinction is made between early-career and more senior priests.

As the description shows, organising a diocesan synod was no mean feat. It involved summoning a group of clerics from inside and outside the city, organising a process of examination and holding a court. Aside from the obvious administrative skills required, a bishop had to establish what priests were supposed to know and what was considered to be fitting behaviour, as well as being able to examine and judge them, and condemn those that had overstepped the mark. This is where T comes in, which served as a handbook for exactly these episcopal tasks. In particular, it focuses on the knowledge of priests, as a significant portion of the manuscript is dedicated to this end.

What priests were supposed to know

During the diocesan synod, there are two moments when priests’ knowledge came to the fore. Firstly, at the reception and greeting by the bishop, the priests were told about the importance of their office in the form of a sermon. For this purpose, the manuscript contains the ‘Admonitio synodalis’, which is also the second capitulum in the collection and thus serves as an extension to the ordo discussed above ^[45]. The fact that the ordo and the sermon are transmitted as a pair in a few other manuscripts supports this as well ^[46]. The ‘Admonitio synodalis’ is a synodal sermon that was disseminated widely during the tenth and eleventh centuries ^[47]. While its exact origin and time of creation are still unknown, the text incorporates material from Regino of Prüm’s ‘Libri duo’ and was used by bishop Rather of Verona in a letter to address his priests, which situates it between 906 and 966, possibly at or near Mainz ^[48]. In the sermon, the bishop does not provide much reflection on the priestly office but lists practically everything required for being a good priest, which includes his behaviour, the instruments he needs for the performance of his duties and, most important in this case, his knowledge and books. The emphasis on ‘technical knowledge’ is typical for early versions of the ‘Admonitio synodalis’; later on, this shifts to priests’ morality when the sermon was incorporated into larger liturgical and canonical compendia ^[49].

In the sermon, the bishop is very clear about what knowledge he required of his priests. Priests had to know the basics of the Christian faith, in the form of the Creed, the Lord’s Prayer and canon law ^[50]. Not only did they have to understand these things themselves, but they also had to be able to teach people about the importance of them. In addition, priests were supposed to know the sacraments by which they communicated and dispensed salvation. They had to know and understand the canon of Mass and the sacraments of baptism, while also being able to care for the sick, the dying and the dead ^[51]. Naturally, bishops did not expect their priests to know all these things by heart: for this reason, priests were expected to have books at their disposal to help them carry out their tasks. The books the bishop lists in the ‘Admonitio synodalis’ are a missal, a lectionary and an antiphonary, which are the basic tools needed for the celebration of Mass; a martyrology and penitential are also mentioned ^[52]. These final two books would aid the priest in organising the ecclesiastical year with its different feasts, as well as hearing confession and administering penance.

Put together, this knowledge and set of books formed the basic ‘tools’ every priest was supposed to have at his disposal. A short addition follows the synodal ordo, which is probably the “distinct capitularies” the synodal ordo refers to, and again reflects a very similar kind of knowledge. For the priest’s ministry, he had to know and understand the psalms, the contents of the lectionary, the canon of Mass, the chants from the antiphonary as well as how to baptise and how to use a penitential ^[53]. Furthermore, it expected the priest to be able to calculate the date of Easter, which is mentioned in the ‘Admonitio synodalis’ as well, while also listing the most important feasts that had to be celebrated. Interestingly, many of these feasts can be found elsewhere in the manuscript. They are mentioned in Pseudo-Alcuin’s ‘Liber de divinis officiis’, where feasts such as Christmas and Pentecost but also the Purification of Mary or the birthday of John the Baptist are carefully explained ^[54]. The same text also explains the canon of Mass, mentioned in both the appended text and the sermon, as well as the liturgical procedures involved in the care for the sick, dying and dead ^[55]. Clearly, the ‘Liber de divinis officiis’ is a crucial part of T, and served as a source of almost everything priests were supposed to know.

A handful of excerpts added to the end of the synodal sermon further underline that the manuscript was indeed used to explain the matters addressed in the synodal ordo. Various excerpts from a letter by Alcuin of York ( c. 735–804 ) and Isidore of Seville’s ( c. 560–636 ) ‘Sententiae’ inform the reader about the priestly office, which corresponds to the ordo which instructs the bishop to explain the meaning of presbyter and sacerdos to his priests at the beginning of the synod ^[56]. This kind of usage is reaffirmed by marginalia found in T. A hand wrote sacerdotes above presbyteros ( fol. 97r ) in the passage of Pseudo-Alcuin explaining the origin of the name of the office. While seemingly redundant, for we can safely assume that bishops knew that these terms often overlapped, the note might indicate the manuscript was also used by someone from the clergy less familiar with their meaning. After the small note, longer annotations were scribbled in the margin, one of which is based on Isidore’s ‘Etymologiae’, adding further information on the clergy in general and on the offices of the exorcist, deacon and subdeacon ^[57]. Besides instruction, however, the marginalia in the penitentials of Halitgar of Cambrai and Pseudo-Theodore suggest that T could also have been employed in a more pastoral context. An example of this is the additional penitential psalm noted in the margin of the former penitential ^[58]. A series of notes added to Pseudo-Theodore’s penitential ( fols. 303v–305v ), signalling entries dealing with pregnancy, menstruation and the ritual purity of women indicates that this is a pastoral context that applied to laypeople. The interplay between different texts within T, such as the synodal ordo and the ‘Liber de divinis officiis’, as well as the marginal annotations, are typical features of this manuscript and attest to the meticulous care with which it was put together.

The knowledge addressed in the synodal ordo echoes the ideals formulated in texts by the Carolingian rulers and their bishops more than a century before, when priests were first instrumentalised as ‘agents of correctio’ that had to lay the foundation for a Christian people, the populus christianus ^[59]. It is striking that some of the most famous materials from this period, namely the ‘Admonitio generalis’ issued by Charlemagne in 789 and the first episcopal statutes by Theodulf of Orléans from the early ninth century, have been incorporated in T as part of the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ ^[60]. There is a clear overlap between the topics dealt with in the ‘Admonitio generalis’ and the statutes by the bishop of Orléans, which begs the question why such material was added to the collection in the first place ^[61]. It might have been possible that the texts were used during a local synod to determine the course of the day, much like an outline ^[62]. The usage of these texts as ‘templates’ would also explain why they were copied for centuries after their first appearance. Although possible, the ‘Admonitio synodalis’ alone would have sufficed as it deals with subject matter similar to the synodal ordo. The overlap between the material extends beyond the required knowledge of priests, however, and includes issues addressed in the remainder of the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ concerning the Sendgericht, episcopal authority, the role of the bishop and his priests, and management of ecclesiastical property; it was therefore surely more than just an outline. The presence of these key texts and their excellent quality demonstrates that the compilers were aware of their indebtedness to their Carolingian predecessors, who had established the structures they had to maintain ^[63]. These structures no longer seem to have required episcopal statutes, however. If local synods were indeed organised regularly as described in the ordo, more effective ways of communicating and enforcing ecclesiastical discipline had clearly emerged that made the statutes superfluous.

After the bishop finished his sermon, according to the ordo, the knowledge of priests was addressed again during their examination. A group of prominent clerics would examine the priests in attendance, but not before they themselves were tested by the bishop. For both these inquiries, the manuscript provides effective material based mainly on the writings of Alcuin and Isidore. The last part of the codex contains a set of seven useful questionnaires ( fols. 324r–334r ), supplying the reader with both the questions and answers. The subjects covered in these texts are broad, ranging from the Trinity, Creed and the sacrament of baptism to less dogmatic issues such as what it means to be human or to be called a Christian. With the material, a bishop would be able to test those undergoing examination using a nuanced approach dependent on the examinee. Where for one it might be suitable to ask about the meaning of the words “faith”, “Christian” and “catechumen”, for another it was fitting to inquire if the Trinity indeed was at the same time “coessential, consubstantial and coeternal.” ^[64] The incorporation of these varied questionnaires would enable its user to quiz both the prospective examiners and the examinees. The grouping of the texts as a block at the end of the manuscript, furthermore, enhances their ease of use and their probability of being used in the way outlined above, especially in combination with the small table of contents for the questionnaires added to the codex on a separate folio ^[65].

At the same time, questionnaires did not necessarily have to be used for examination. Certainly T may also have been used for instruction. Take, for instance, the three expositions at the beginning of the manuscript, mostly concerning the Creed and the Christian faith, that have not been formatted in a question-and-answer structure ^[66]. The different format suggests it served another purpose: instruction would be the most obvious. One of the texts, which can be attributed to Bachiarius, an early fifth-century author, is even titled “Exposition on the faith; short and useful.” ^[67] We might add to this two sermons on the importance of keeping Sunday and on Mass; an exposition of ( musical ) tones; a collection of sentences on forgiveness and sin, probably taken from a penitential; a set of excerpts on the eucharist; and the substantial contribution of Pseudo-Alcuin’s text to the instructional value of T, as already established. It is therefore easy to imagine the bishop using the material for education, rather than for probing their priests. Moreover, it is possible that the manuscript changed hands during a diocesan synod, and might have been used by some other clergyman whose task it was to teach and to whom it must have been just as useful. T was, in short, a versatile manuscript that could have served several purposes.

Monitoring behaviour and administering justice

Besides raising the knowledge of priests to the required level via instruction and examination, diocesan synods had another purpose, namely the monitoring of priests’ behaviour. During the synod, this was done by the bishop holding a court, where he would hear allegations brought against his priests, which could come from diocesan priests themselves or the laity they served, and likewise hear allegations against the laity ^[68]. Where the allegations against the laity came from is not mentioned in the synodal ordo, yet it seems reasonable to assume that the local priest and the community both had a hand in this process. The allegations were dealt with “according to the canons”, as stated in the ordo. Yet canon law was not only used to determine the severity of the offence and establish a fitting punishment. It also provided guidelines for the organisation of courts of law elsewhere in the diocese, determining who could accuse whom, what kind of witnesses to admit, and even the limitations of the bishop’s authority when serving as a judge. The framework for enforcing this kind of ecclesiastical discipline consists of entries of the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’, alongside the already-discussed synodal ordo and sermon. Before we can examine the collection’s remaining sources and content, however, I will first briefly discuss this method of administering episcopal justice in its historical context.

From as early as the sixth century, conciliar decrees and lives of saints show bishops acting as ecclesiastical judges ^[69]. They defended the sanctity of holy places or forced criminals to repent by restricting their access to the eucharist. Besides holding a court in their sees, bishops also travelled their diocese to administer justice and monitor their priests. Visitation had existed for as long as bishops had been judges but became more institutionalised, as many things did, during the reign of the Carolingians ^[70]. Beginning in the late eighth century but predominantly recorded in the ninth century, bishops were encouraged to uncover injustices in their diocese by themselves, an exercise also known as the Sendgericht ^[71]. The bishop travelled his diocese with a mobile court of law, of which he was the supreme authority.

Upon arrival in a locality, the bishop celebrated Mass and then took his seat inside or in front of the church and summoned local trustworthy witnesses, who were then required to swear an oath and answer all his questions ^[72]. If he uncovered any injustices, he would attempt to rectify them on-site. While the procedure might have lost some of its effectiveness during the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries, which according to Wilfried Hartmann was mainly due to the ripple effects of the Peace of God which gave non-ecclesiastical rulers a stronger mandate to also uphold justice and peace, our manuscript was created at a time when episcopal justice was still widespread and effective ^[73].

Much of what we know about episcopal visitation and the administering of justice in the early Middle Ages depends on the ‘Libri duo’. The book was composed by Regino of Prüm for Ratbod, archbishop of Trier ( 883–915 ), who commissioned it. Yet the book was not for the archbishop of Trier but for the use of Hatto, archbishop of Mainz ( 891–913 ) ^[74]. In it, Regino amassed a collection of excerpts taken from canon law, conciliar decrees and papal decretals that should enable a bishop to travel through his diocese without having to worry about taking his entire library with him. The ‘Libri duo’ presents its reader with the most up-to-date essentials for the Sendgericht. For us, it provides a clear image of how such a recurring event took place ^[75].

Like St Ulrich’s vita, the book opens with a “list of what the bishop or his assistants at the synod should carefully investigate in the villages, settlements and parishes of the diocese”, which consisted of a lengthy series of questions for both clerics and laypeople, to determine whether any injustice had taken place ^[76]. Before laypeople were questioned, they were required to swear an oath, after which they could serve as witnesses in the provisional episcopal court ^[77]. Incidentally, the bishop did not do this all by himself, but received help from clerics he sent ahead. The rest of the book’s content comprises material meant to help the bishop make a good and fair judgement, often providing its reader with multiple angles on the issue at hand, allowing for a careful and varied approach depending on the particulars of the case. When the bishop’s clerical investigators arrived in a village, the local priest did not escape their scrutiny. First, his books were examined, and the clerics determined whether he possessed the correct ones and was able to read from them properly; afterwards, he was asked if he knew how to perform his priestly duties such as administering the sacraments, singing the psalms and taking care of the sick, for which he had to be familiar with the relevant ordines and liturgy ^[78]. Based on the ten exemplars from the century after its composition, various entries in library catalogues, and its reception in conciliar decrees, collections of canon law and an episcopal statute from around the same time, Regino’s work was quite popular ^[79]. Such collections were deemed to be useful and effective for the organisation of the Sendgericht. The ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ must be examined within this context.

A framework for ecclesiastical discipline

A large part of the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ consists of canon law ( see appendix 2, with references ), and relies for more than half of the capitula on the ‘Collectio Dacheriana’, a systematic collection dated to the early ninth century ^[80]. Other collections of canon law are also deployed, such as the ‘Collectio Dionysio-Hadriana’, ‘Collectio Quesnelliana’ and the Compilation of Worms ^[81]. The ‘Collectio Herovalliana’ is found in a later addition to T, but since this was not part of the initial compilation, present as an incomplete quire with a younger script inserted in the middle of the collection, I will not examine it here ^[82]. Various fragments of Pseudo-Isidorian forgeries were copied throughout the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’, for instance from the false decretals and the collection of capitularies by Benedictus Levita. Aside from the already-mentioned ‘Admonitio generalis’ and the episcopal statutes by Theodulf of Orléans, other sets of capitularies were included, such as the statutes by Herard of Tours, the collection composed by Ansegis of Fontenelle ( c. 770–833 ) and the so-called ‘Capitula Trecensia’, a set of episcopal statutes only found in this manuscript. To complement the collection with some patristic material there are a few fragments taken from a sermon by Caesarius of Arles ( 468/470–542 ), and writings by Jerome ( c. 347–420 ) and Gregory the Great. One canon added from the council of Troyes ( 878 ) provides a terminus post quem for the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’. Even though the collection may predate the manuscript itself, we must be careful not to overemphasise something that depended on the availability of source material, about which we know very little. Finally, the collection contains a set of short sentences taken from Cicero’s ‘De officiis’ ^[83]. Based on the provenance of some of the sources, in this case the ‘Collectio Dacheriana’ and the capitularies by Benedictus and Ansegis, the collection may have been compiled in the diocese of Reims ^[84].

In comparison with the selection made by Regino in his ‘Libri duo’, the range of source material used to compile the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ in T is rather limited. It draws extensively upon the ‘Collectio Dacheriana’, while also incorporating both royal and episcopal statutes from the Carolingian period. Yet there seems to be far less material copied from conciliar decrees, which is limited to a sole entry from the council of Troyes ( 878 ). The lack of contemporary material is particularly striking. The collection is therefore similar to the rest of the manuscript’s content, neither of which extend chronologically beyond the first half of the tenth century and lean heavily on ninth-century material. In addition, it is important to note that ‘canonical’ sources were not exclusively used for its compilation. The sentences from Cicero’s ‘De officiis’ that could have been used as clever one-liners when holding a court – for instance, when passing judgement in a simony case ( “For things are in a bad way when that which should be obtained by merit is attempted with money” ) or pressing a witness for an answer ( “It is always the task of the judge in a trial to pursue the truth” ) – demonstrate that we are not dealing with a collection only derived from established sources of canon law ^[85]. The sentences from Jerome’s letters, whose purpose seems very similar to the Ciceronian quotations, also form part of this less-established source material. Therefore, labelling it a ‘collection of canon law’ must be done carefully, for the normative authority of a text extends in some cases beyond what we consider to be ‘canonical’. The sources used for the compilation, however, are not the only determining factor for the material in the collection. The compiler’s process of selection also had a significant impact on the content, to which we now turn.

The main purpose of the extensive compilation of material that is the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’ was to support a bishop when he held his court during a local synod or while visiting his diocese. While the collection does not include all the procedural elements found in Regino’s ‘Libri duo’, such as a text for swearing in witnesses, it does contain short questionnaires that can be used for visitation. With regard to the organisation of these events, the collection even has some material to help set up a framework for ecclesiastical discipline that both gives room for action and imposes limitations on those operating within.

In the first place, the collection contains three sets of questions ( nrs. 52–54 ) taken from the Compilation of Worms, which are similar to the questionnaires in the ‘Libri duo’ but much more concise. The questions focus on the state of the local church, its resident priest and the lay people attending the church services ^[86]. With such a text the bishop would quickly be able to find out about the condition of the church building, as well as the services held there: did the priest, for instance, possess all the right equipment to celebrate Mass? Moreover, the bishop would learn about the reputation of the priest and whether he performed his office properly, and, finally, if there were any grave sinners among the laity who caused trouble in the community. In short, it gave an indication of where ecclesiastical discipline was needed.

Secondly, the collection also provides a rough blueprint of what a visitation should look like, in the form of three entries taken from the ‘Collectio Dacheriana’ ( nrs. 176–178 ). The first describes that when he arrives at a church a bishop should first concern himself with examining the clergy and their knowledge, so that if necessary he could provide them with correction and instruction. The next day, the bishop should hold a court to hear a variety of crimes, including murder, adultery, perjury and other deadly sins, and deliver justice. After that, he should continue his journey and move on to the next church ^[87]. The two following entries state that a bishop and his entourage should be efficient in their visits by limiting their stay so as not to deplete the resources of the local church and its community. Furthermore, if a bishop is not able to carry out his task because of illness or more pressing duties, he may send priests or deacons in his place. As these canones are more or less buried in the collection, they clearly do not carry the same weight as the ordo for the diocesan synod so prominently featured at the beginning. Still, the numerous entries related to visitation and the Sendgericht show that the collection could be used by a bishop to that end. The circumstances in which people were able to accuse others of crimes and the selection of witnesses in such trials are both subjects that are frequently addressed. For instance not just anyone could bring an accusation against another person: clerics could only be accused by other clerics of equal ecclesiastical rank ^[88]. Furthermore, written accusations were not allowed, because the bishop would only be able to assess someone’s intentions properly in person ( nrs. 111–112 ). Whom to admit as a witness to support an accusation was also something bishops had to consider. Any accuser attempting to strengthen his claim with witnesses “from his own house”, for example, had to be dismissed ^[89]. Even the location where the court was held had to be thought through: it was recommended to be near to the accuser’s home, to reduce the chance of him being ambushed by a sudden angry mob ^[90].

Thirdly, aside from organisational matters, there are various entries in the collection that provide boundaries to episcopal authority. Naturally, a bishop held authority over the clergy in his diocese. Within his domain, they had to obey his orders and secular authority had no say about the bishop’s status or position ^[91]. For that reason, after being condemned by an ecclesiastical court, there was no use in appealing to a worldly court of law, only to be an “annoyance to the emperor’s ears” ^[92]. Yet it was possible for a cleric to appeal against a judgment, which brings us to the various limitations imposed on episcopal authority listed in the collection. A bishop’s authority was primarily limited by the council of his peers, meaning the archbishop and his suffragans. Only they could decide on the merit of an appeal, and without their written permission, seeking out a royal warrant for this purpose was not possible ^[93]. Although the church hierarchy prevented the clergy from monitoring their bishop directly, the bishop could not hear a case without the presence of his clergy, as this would invalidate his judgement ^[94]. The various limitations placed upon episcopal power that were copied into a collection found in a manuscript from the second half of the tenth or first half of the eleventh century are noteworthy because they show that the bishops’ increased agency during this time, as opposed to the Carolingian period, was not without its ( self-imposed ) limits.

Within this framework, a bishop could hold a court, whether during a local synod or while travelling through his diocese. Numerous entries scattered throughout the collection provide its reader with the canonical material needed to make a judgement. The structure of the material, as noted by Fournier, might seem disparate at times ^[95]. For instance, entries related to both lay and clerical marriage are found throughout the collection ^[96]. Interestingly there are only a few entries concerning clerical marriage, suggesting that for T’s initial reader( s ) this was not a pressing matter. If we look at the sources used to compile the collection and the selection process in appendix 2, it appears that while at first glance apparently arbitrary, the compiler actually worked through the available material starting from the beginning and copied the most useful entries while working his way to the end. Only in a few instances has the order been adjusted or has material been paired together ^[97]. This ordering shows that T’s collection was conceived with the table of contents in mind, an aid for the reader which made the not-so-systematic 234 capitularies truly accessible. If we consider that the penitentials towards the end of the manuscript each have their own table of contents and numbered entries, it would have enabled a bishop to impose the right penance efficiently after having passed judgement on crimes such as murder, adultery or incest ^[98]. It speaks once again of the care that went into composing T and, at the same time, shows that besides his role as judge, the bishop was also supposed to be a shepherd whose admonishment was always followed by the possibility of atonement. Given the three penitentials, this spiritual role was taken quite seriously, even before the impulse from the Gregorian reform movement in the latter half of the eleventh century ^[99].

Diocesan administration

Leaving to one side material to condemn severe crimes, many of the entries in the collection relate to property management, and depict the bishop as the supreme diocesan administrator who is there to ensure everything runs smoothly and that his priests did not abuse their power. As demonstrated, the collection was likely also intended to be used for visitation, which meant the inspection of villages and settlements, thereby extending ecclesiastical discipline to all the inhabitants of the diocese ^[100]. To ensure that there was a diocesan administration to begin with, bishops had to see to it that their local representatives remained in place, including the priests they ordained and assigned to a certain church as well as other clergymen. In three instances, the collection emphasises that leaving one’s church and community was a grave misdeed that would result in excommunication ^[101]. Clerics who left in this way should not be received by another bishop and could not be ordained anew without the permission of their former ecclesiastical superior. While it might have been attractive to switch churches or even dioceses for wealthier or more prominent alternatives, this was very much against the idea of stable Christian communities in which its members received the pastoral care they required on their way to salvation ^[102].

Local churches also generated streams of revenue from receipt of tithes and donations. In the collection, numerous entries describe how these forms of regular and irregular income should be handled. Tithes were to be split into four parts and divided between the bishop himself, the clergy, the poor and the upkeep of the church building ^[103]. From Regino’s ‘Libri duo’ we learn that this kind of upkeep was a crucial expense, as he opens his questionnaire by asking about the condition of the church’s roof and whether it housed any smelly or noisy birds ^[104]. Regino also prepared the bishop for multiple administrative challenges including people withholding tithes ( nr. 57 ) or priests stirring up controversy in their attempts to obtain these overdue payments ( nr. 56 ). Rather, a priest should cajole unwilling members of his congregation by preaching about the importance of paying tithes, for which purpose the collection contains a short sermon by Caesarius of Arles ( nr. 231 ). Donations, although a less regular form of income, could also create problems. Sometimes the family of the deceased withheld donations, even though they had been granted in a will. In such cases, the poor would usually be presented as the main victims and greedy family members as “murderers”, who would rather support themselves than those in actual need ^[105]. Receiving and giving donations had to be a transparent affair ( nr. 167 ), this included the bishop because accepting the wrong donations could easily imply favouritism ( nr. 151 ), especially as he had to appear impartial if he intended to hold a court to judge relevant cases.

Beyond the locality, the bishop was the supreme administrator for the diocese proper. The collection shows that quarrelsome local priests and their sometimes difficult communities of laypeople formed only part of the bishop’s concerns, as he managed multiple estates, various churches and other benefices, which he most likely also visited while travelling his diocese. For this purpose, the bishop had entries at hand that he could use to defend the ecclesiastical property in his diocese. Churches or land, for instance, could be claimed by a third party or sold without the bishop’s knowledge ^[106]. It was certainly possible to transfer property within the diocese, but the bishop had to conduct such business himself or at least be aware of what happened, since it was his duty to preserve his diocese and the Church’s property as much as possible ^[107]. Thus, he had to prevent clerics from enriching themselves at the expense of the Church by buying land in their own name during their time in office, or by stealing money from a colleague’s church or beneficium ^[108]. Even unfree labourers of the diocese did not escape the bishop’s watchful eye, as we learn from entries which laid out how he could release mancipia from their service correctly or intervene in the unlawful selling or even killing of slaves ^[109]. Ultimately, the bishop had to be aware of all these things going on in his diocese and, at the same time, look after the best interest of the Church and its people entrusted to him.

Conclusion

Even though Carolingian bishops stopped issuing episcopal statutes after the first half of the tenth century, the type of ecclesiastical discipline their successors imposed on the clergy ( and to a lesser extent the laity ) in their diocese remained largely unchanged. This case study of the Lotharingian episcopal handbook T has demonstrated that the ideas communicated through the statutes did not vanish but became institutionalised, instead taking on other forms such as that of a sermon held at a diocesan synod. At such gatherings, priests would still be pressed to obtain the right knowledge and tools for the performance of their office, while also living exemplary lives. T’s questionnaires indicate that priests were still examined about their knowledge of the Creed and the Trinity before their ordination and most likely again during their time in office. In this way, composing new episcopal statutes became superfluous during the later tenth century, as better ways to communicate and enforce ecclesiastical discipline at a local level had emerged. The materials required to organise such events are all found in T, the most important of which is the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’. The usage of the manuscript extended beyond local synods to visitations and the Sendgericht; as we have seen, both were means of introducing ecclesiastical discipline institutionalised during the ninth century and both became firmly established during the later tenth and eleventh centuries. Ways to deal with potential issues that emerged during both these processes show strong continuity with the previous century, making T resemble what could have been a Carolingian bishop’s favourite handbook. In particular, the combination of canon law and penitentials shows that the pastoral aspect of the episcopal office had not yet lost its significance for both clergy and laity ^[110]. The bishop emerging from the folia of T is thus a powerful clerical magnate rather involved with his own diocese, which he served as examiner, judge, administrator and, finally, as shepherd.

Furthermore, T indicates that concurrent to Regino of Prüm and his ‘Libri duo’ other compilers were at work, who also sought to create tools for bishops for their day-to-day use. Despite its proven popularity, Regino’s work was not the only and perhaps not even the ideal solution for every bishop, even within the region where it originated. Around Trier and Mainz, but also in Reims, Liège and Cambrai, manuscripts survive that have qualities similar to T. When tracing the rest of the content to other manuscripts, a network of overlapping similarities appears that Wilfried Hartmann refers to as a ‘Mainzer Paenitentialiensammlung’ and ‘Lothringische Materialsammlung’, sharing various penitentials, synodal acts, episcopal statutes and in some instances even ordines for diocesan synods ^[111]. Whereas T only contains some material from these collections, it is clear that the type of material gathered in this manuscript is not unique. Just as the pontifical was made to cover the episcopal liturgy, another type of book was developed during the same period to assist the bishop in enforcing the discipline of the church in Lotharingian and Western-German dioceses that had been stable enough to let Carolingian ideas about the role of the bishop and his priests take hold even after the empire had begun to fade ^[112].

Appendix 1 – Contents of Troyes, MJC, Ms 1979

Appendix 2 – Contents of the ‘Collectio 234 capitulorum’