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The Last Carolingian Exegete: Pope Urban II, the Weight of Tradition, and Christian Reconquest

Published online by Cambridge University Press:  11 December 2012

Matthew Gabriele
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Abstract

Pope Urban II (1088–99) was trained at Reims and Cluny before entering the orbit of the Gregorians around Rome. As such, Urban was first trained as an exegete. By considering how Urban used one particular verse (Daniel 2:21) and tracing that verse's intellectual lineage forward from the Fathers, through the Carolingians, we get a clearer picture not just of the vibrancy of eleventh-century intellectual life but also, ultimately, of Urban's understanding of the arc of sacred history. As a trained Carolingian exegete, Urban continued the work of his ninth-century predecessors, calling the Christian people (populus christianus) to mend their ways and strike back against the pagans, so that God would return His hand and allow the Christians to reconquer the Mediterranean world.

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Research Article
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Church History , Volume 81 , Issue 4 , December 2012 , pp. 796 - 814
Copyright
Copyright © American Society of Church History 2012

In the late tenth century, Abbot Maiolus of Cluny (d. 994) asked one of his monks to copy Hrabanus Maurus's (d. 852) commentary on the Book of Jeremiah. Maiolus also asked the scribe for Hrabanus's original dedicatory letter to Lothar I (840–55). The manuscript survives intact, complete with the scribe's explanation of the request, Hrabanus's letter, and his commentary.Footnote 1 Maiolus's request for the commentary certainly was not odd; his was a standard kind of request, one made throughout the early Middle Ages. But why ask for the dedicatory letter as well? What could that have added to his understanding of the commentary? The answer is simple enough to miss. Maiolus wanted the codex he commissioned to be one that spoke to the sins of the Israelites and loss of Jerusalem (Jeremiah), the work of the Fathers (Jerome's commentary, which was the basis for Hrabanus's), and the tribulations of the New Israel as they echoed forward from the past, through the ninth century and into Maiolus's own day (Hrabanus and his dedicatory letter). Ninth-century churchmen sought the meaning of sacred history in exegesis, and Maiolus of Cluny was a product of that tradition. In order to understand a biblical book, in order to understand God's will, even as early as the tenth century, one had to first consult the Carolingian masters on that subject, who would help the reader understand the Fathers. Only then could you approach the Bible, which would reveal God's plan for the world.Footnote 2

Biblical verses were never “naked” in the early Middle Ages. They were clothed in the heavy garments of tradition and weighed down with the burden of commentary. We have the tendency to see an eleventh-century monastic chronicler cite Jeremiah and think “Jeremiah,” when we should be thinking, with author and reader, “Hrabanus,” “Haimo,” “Paschasius,” and “Jerome.” Perhaps our modern approach has something to do with the way nineteenth-century historiography still constrains the questions we ask of texts, perhaps something to do with our relative unfamiliarity with medieval exegesis, perhaps something to do with what we (think we) do know about exegesis. But when we forget that men of the early Middle Ages, and the tenth and eleventh centuries especially, encountered the Bible through Carolingian and Patristic commentaries, we miss things. We could miss the fact that a citation from Psalms, for instance, could evoke not only its place in the liturgy but also the explications of Alcuin (d. 804), Smaragdus of St-Mihiel (d. ca. 840), Walahfrid Strabo (d. 849), Prudentius of Troyes (d. 861), and Remigius of Auxerre (d. 908), among others (to name only the Carolingians).Footnote 3 A brief early eleventh-century annalistic reference to Ezekiel could conjure a host of associations in the mind of the reader and fundamentally recast the meaning of a passage.Footnote 4

One of the first letters Pope Urban II (1088–99) wrote after ascending to the papacy in 1088 was directed to the people of Salzburg. Urban began by commending the faithful to act manfully and be consoled by the power of God, so that they will rise up on behalf of the house of Israel against the enemy and be godly warriors (bellatores Domini) on the Day of the Lord (referencing Ezekiel 13:5). This was important because, citing 2 Timothy 3:1, Urban warned the faithful that they lived in a “dangerous time” (tempora periculosa). But, all was not lost. Urban reminded his audience that if we mended our ways, God would hear our prayers and the ecclesia would be restored to its pristine, uncorrupted state.Footnote 5 On its surface, this appears to be a rather standard eleventh-century call to reform. But Urban's citation of the verse from Ezekiel—and how he modified itFootnote 6–placed him in a particular Carolingian (and Cluniac) exegetical tradition. Urban was thinking eschatologically, linking the actions of the faithful in this world to their future salvation. This interpretation is strengthened through the exegesis of another verse. At least since Alcuin in the late eighth century, exegetes had associated the “dangerous times” of 2 Timothy 3:1 to the depredations of the antichrist.Footnote 7 These realizations recast our understanding of the letter, switching its tone from staid call to reform to furious call to arms. This is a realization that could have vast implications for how we understand Urban II's papacy, especially as we approach 1095 and the call to holy war in the East.Footnote 8

Exegetical tradition suggested to Urban a particular understanding of sacred history. There was optimism in his heart. He said that because of man's sins, the ecclesia was collectively punished with the pagan invasions of the seventh and eighth centuries. Now, however, at the end of the eleventh, the time of reconquest was at hand.Footnote 9 In this letter, the warriors of God (bellatores Domini), working with the clerics instructing them, have become the agents of change. Their actions would touch God's mercy and the liberation of the Church and restoration of Christianity would soon come.

This article will examine the exegetical tradition that gave weight to some of the biblical citations in Urban II's letters. Urban drew primarily from a Frankish exegetical tradition that survived amidst, and indeed thrived because of, the political disorder of the late ninth and tenth centuries. As an heir to and participant in that tradition, Urban II brought exegesis out of the cloister, applying exegetical lessons to contemporary events.Footnote 10 Ninth-century Frankish exegetes thought their world was crumbling around them but never gave up hope. They saw a way out, foretold for them in the pages of Scripture, and they used their commentaries to illuminate the way forward. Urban II continued their work and, throughout the 1090s, the Latin West rejoiced as the New Israel returned to its proper path, as prophecy began to come true when Christ's enemies were pushed back in Iberia, Sicily, and Palestine.

I. A Change of Times and Ages: How Odo of Lagéry became Pope Urban II

A boy named Odo was born, likely to the lords of Lagéry in the county of Champagne, circa 1035. He began his education nearby, at the cathedral school of Reims probably under Bruno of Cologne (d. 1101), who would later found Chartreuse. Odo remained at Reims from circa 1050–67 but then moved to Cluny and became prior under Abbot Hugh “the Great” of Sémur (d. 1109). Around 1080, he went to Rome to pursue Cluny's interests and his talents were spotted by Pope Gregory VII (1073–85), who elevated Odo to the cardinal-bishopric of Ostia shortly thereafter. After the death of Pope Victor III (1086–88), Odo became Pope Urban II.Footnote 11

We do not know much about Urban's education under Bruno at Reims. Most likely, the Carolingian educational program begun in the ninth century was carried into the tenth and eleventh. Hincmar of Reims (d. 882) began to expand the cathedral school's library and, in the 890s, schoolmasters Remigius of Auxerre and Hucbald of Saint-Amand (d. ca. 932) began to attract students from throughout Europe. Gerbert of Reims (later Pope Sylvester II [998–1002]) continued this tradition in the tenth century. Carolingian exegesis featured prominently in that library, with extant commentaries by Haimo of Auxerre (d. ca. 875), Heiric of Auxerre, Remigius of Auxerre, Alcuin, Hrabanus Maurus, and Ansegisus of Reims (d. ca. 833), among others, so we can reasonably guess that they featured heavily in the educational program.Footnote 12

We are on surer ground when it comes to Cluny. Most likely, both the school and library at Cluny were begun by Odo of Cluny, who was himself an exegete by training.Footnote 13 This would make sense, as he studied under the prolific exegete Remigius of Auxerre in Paris, then became a monk at Baume as well as its schoolmaster. When Abbot Berno of Baume (d. 927) moved to Cluny, Odo went with him, bringing his volumes from Tours to start Cluny's school and library.Footnote 14 We are fortunate to have a catalog of Cluny's library as it existed circa 1100, perhaps even from just the time Urban was using it as prior. The catalogue, printed by Léopold Delisle in the late nineteenth century and first thought to be from the mid twelfth-century, has now been shown to date to circa 1100 and reflect the interests of abbots Odo, Maiolus, Odilo, and Hugh.Footnote 15 The collection contained over thirty different biblical commentaries from the ninth century. There are a few works by Paschasius, a number by Alcuin, and an entire section headed by Hrabanus.Footnote 16 There are also commentaries by Haimo of Auxerre on the Minor Prophets, on Genesis, on the letters of Paul, on the Apocalypse, on Isaiah, on Ezekiel, on Jeremiah, and on Daniel.Footnote 17

We even have evidence that these books were read. The Liber tramitis, a Cluniac customary (later copied at Farfa) originally dating to the 1040s and the abbacy of Odilo, lists the books that were distributed to the monks for reading during the Easter season. Of the sixty-four books distributed, twenty-nine are biblical exegesis (45%). Of those twenty-nine, sixteen of them are from the ninth century (25% overall, 55% of all exegesis). These works include Alcuin on the Trinity (and another perhaps on Ecclesiastes), Ambrose Autpert on Revelation, Hrabanus on Ecclesiastes, Jeremiah, Kings, and Maccabees, and finally Haimo of Auxerre on the Letters of Paul, Revelation, Isaiah, and Genesis (and perhaps two others by him on the Minor Prophets and Psalms).Footnote 18

There is meaning in the books that Urban II saw on the shelves. Populating a library with these volumes was not an innocent choice. First, as anyone who has seen any tenth-, eleventh-, or twelfth-century codices of Carolingian exegesis can attest, these can be massive volumes, sometimes running into the hundreds of folios. A tenth-century copy of Haimo's commentary on Revelation runs to 148 folios. An eleventh-century Italian copy of his commentary on some of Paul's letters comes in at 146 folios (this particular codex only contains Haimo's work on Romans and some of 1 Corinthians). An early twelfth-century version of Haimo's exegesis of Isaiah, from Bury St. Edmunds, is 125 folios.Footnote 19 Sometimes—though not always—these are prestige pieces, written on high quality vellum and filled with illustrations.Footnote 20 Regardless, these codices, which almost always contain only one text, intended as stand-alone additions to a cloister's library, would require a great deal of time and investment of resources.

More important to our discussion here, the Carolingian commentaries that filled the library at Cluny, that were read by its monks, framed the way scripture was later understood and hence their readers’ understanding of the arc of sacred history. We have already seen how Maiolus of Cluny was interested in Hrabanus's commentary on Jeremiah but there is more evidence that Carolingian exegesis shaped his thinking. During his captivity in the Alps at the hands of some Islamic brigands, Maiolus of Cluny wrote to his congregation, referencing the “hordes of Belial” that surrounded him. In doing so, Maiolus was deliberately evoking Haimo of Auxerre's commentary on 2 Thessalonians.Footnote 21 The Cluniac manuscripts produced under Maiolus's successor, Odilo, continued to evoke Carolingian precedents.Footnote 22 Indeed, Haimo's exegesis of Revelation was the pillar of later Cluniac tradition on that topic, perhaps even inspiring the image of the Last Judgment that overlooked the refectory in Cluny.Footnote 23 Moreover, Odilo's institution of the feast of All Souls may have been a manifestation of this legacy. Odilo seems to have taken at least some of these ideas from, again, Haimo's commentary on Revelation, specifically in that the feast made clear that the monks too, like the Carolingians before them, were concerned with the whole “Christian people” (populus christianus).Footnote 24 Finally, we should not forget that because Abbot Hugh was first educated in Auxerre before arriving at Cluny, he was likely exposed to the works of the Auxerrois exegetes as part of his formative training.Footnote 25

Beryl Smalley famously suggested that the tenth century was a sort of “black hole,” with no exegesis produced between the death of Remigius of Auxerre and Fulbert of Chartres (d. 1028).Footnote 26 But perhaps we should reconsider. The tenth century was actually a rich time for exegesis, with expositors of the sacred books offering their own glosses on sacred texts. We should remember that works like Odo of Cluny's Collationum libri tres, written in the first half of the tenth century, were indeed exegesis; his hagiographer specifically referred to that text as Odo's “three books on Jeremiah.”Footnote 27 Moreover, ninth-century exegetes were read, copied, re-read, and re-copied throughout this period. For instance, Haimo of Auxerre was a prolific exegete, a man who wove his ideas throughout all of his sixteen commentaries, which were copied consistently into the sixteenth century. His commentary on Isaiah survives in twelve manuscripts that can be comfortably dated to before 1100 CE, his Homilies survive in seventeen manuscripts, his commentary on the Song of Songs in twenty-three manuscripts, on the Apocalypse in twenty-five, and on the letters of Paul in fifty. All before 1100.Footnote 28 Many of these, as noted above, found their way into Cluny's library and into the hands of their monks.

Pope Urban II was an heir to this tradition, both Carolingian and Cluniac; he learned at Reims and Cluny—the former founded by Remigius of Auxerre, the latter by one of his students.Footnote 29 At both Reims and Cluny, ninth-century exegesis populated their libraries and, most likely formed the foundation of their educational programs. A key to understanding how this tradition manifested itself in Urban's thinking can be found in his use of a particular verse. In the Vulgate, Daniel 2:21 reads “[Deus qui] mutat tempora, et ætates: transfert regna, atque constituit.”Footnote 30 Urban directly referenced the verse three times in his extant letters. First, in a 1091 letter to Bishop Berengar of Vic, elevating him to the newly restored archbishopric of Tarragona, Urban wondered at the ineffability of God's ability to transform kingdoms and change times (Daniel 2:21), having exalted the city in the past but then allowing the Saracens to punish Christians for their sins. The populus christianus had suffered for 390 years under the people of Hagar. Now, however, the city was being liberated and restored.Footnote 31 In 1093, writing to Count Roger of Sicily (d. 1101), Urban noted that the all “Christian people” rejoiced that God was “changing the time and transforming the kingdom” (Daniel 2:21), in that men “from Western parts” had recaptured Sicily from the Saracens, ending 300 years of Christian servitude to the “gentiles.”Footnote 32 Then, in 1098, Urban wrote to Bishop Gerland of Girgenti (in Sicily), echoing the same sentiments. Beginning this letter by again invoking Daniel 2:21, Urban gave thanks that, even though the pagans had once trampled Christian regions, Counts Robert and Roger had now expelled the pagan Saracens from Sicily and restored the “Christian community” (ecclesia) on that island.Footnote 33

In general, Urban seems to have been saying in these letters that the Christian people had suffered under the yoke of God's enemies since the eighth and ninth centuries but God had changed the times, and Christians now led the reconquest.Footnote 34 God alone, of course, could enact the change of times and ages but He did so specifically to protect His people. The pagan invasions were the beginning of a downward arc but not the end of sacred history. Time marched on and the Christian people still had a role to play.

II. The Weight of Tradition on Daniel 2:21

Pope Gregory I the Great (590-604) understood Daniel 2:21 to be an explanation of how God could work through the papacy in governing the conduct of kings.Footnote 35 Perhaps unsurprisingly, this reasoning was well received during the Investiture Contest. Peter Damian (d. 1072) and Manegold of Lautenbach (d. before 1103), for example, deployed the phrase (often copied verbatim from Gregory the Great) to speak of the power God had, through the papacy, to shape the conduct of kingdoms.Footnote 36

Jerome (d. 420), however, had understood the verse a bit differently and his commentaries loomed large on the mental map of medieval thought. His exegesis of Daniel 2:21 said that God's will governed empires as well as men. For him, the verse pointed forward to the latter half of Daniel 2 (Nebuchadnezzar's dream of the statue) and the decline of kingdoms. God allowed evil men to do evil things in order to punish the wicked, and so on until the tribulations described in Revelation.Footnote 37 Jerome viewed Daniel as theodicy and an explanation of how providence governed politics. Man's actions only shaped the course of history insofar as his sins brought down God's wrath.

And Jerome's was the understanding of Daniel followed by the vast majority of early medieval authors, especially those active in the ninth and tenth centuries. For example, citations of Daniel can be found in the 829 Council of Paris, as well as in the work of Theodulf of Orléans (d. 821), Dhuoda (d. ca. 843), Sedulius Scotus (d. after 865), Heiric of Auxerre (d. ca. 875), John Scotus Eriugena (d. ca. 877), Christian of Stavelot (d. ca. 880), Notker the Stammerer (d. 912), and in the anonymous Vision of Charlemagne from circa 870.Footnote 38 In the tenth century, Liudprand of Cremona (d. 970/ 972), Hrosvita of Gandersheim (d. ca. 975), Fulcuin of Lobbes (d. 990), Adso of Montier-en-Der (d. 992), and Heriger of Lobbes (d. 1007) would continue to use Daniel to illuminate their writings.Footnote 39 In addition, and more importantly, at least five (and maybe as many as seven) new commentaries on Daniel arose out of Carolingian Francia. These were the first attempted since Jerome. Peter of Pisa (d. ca. 799) and an anonymous “Gloss of St-Gall” were produced during the eighth century, while Hrabanus Maurus, Angelomus of Luxeuil (d. ca. 855), Haimo of Auxerre, and two other anonymous authors wrote during the ninth.Footnote 40

Two of the most influential Carolingian exegetes, both during the ninth century and afterwards, were Hrabanus and Haimo. Both wrote commentaries on Daniel in the 840s and both were part of a “second stage” in the development of Carolingian biblical interpretation, one that became almost an exegesis of exegesis, seeking to illuminate both the Bible and the Fathers at the same time. As such, both were still heavily dependent on Jerome's interpretation of Daniel.Footnote 41 Indeed, Hrabanus, who was archbishop of Mainz at the time he wrote his commentary, mostly copied Jerome verbatim. For example, Hrabanus's exegesis of Daniel 2:21 changed nothing from Jerome's original interpretation.Footnote 42

Haimo was a different kind of exegete. We know very little about his life but do know he was a monk at Saint-Germain of Auxerre and master of its school into the 860s, when he left to become abbot of Cessy-les-Bois. At that time, Haimo's pupil Heiric of Auxerre returned to Saint-Germain in order to take Haimo's place.Footnote 43 Haimo's commentary on Daniel reformulated Jerome's understanding of the text, adding other patristic interpretations of certain verses to his work and making comparisons across biblical books that Jerome did not. As Guy Lobrichon has noted, an exegete was “not required to repeat all that his predecessors had said; he was, however, obliged to take a position, even if only by his silence on some interpretations . . . up to that point.” Haimo was not afraid to take a position, even changing the received meaning of particular verses from Jerome's original.Footnote 44 This was true for Daniel 2:21. As Jerome had, Haimo still understood the verse to reference the succession of earthly kingdoms, in that it looked forward to vision of the statue that Nebuchadnezzar would have later in that chapter. But unlike Jerome and Hrabanus, Haimo saw God's hand in the changing of kingdoms as not simply explaining why evil men rule, but also how good men profit. Good men are tested by evil and emerge as better men (probatiores).Footnote 45

Jerome thought that Daniel pointed down—a descent in kingdoms towards the chaos of the End. Haimo agreed but then pointed back up. Good men, caught in an inferno of tyranny, could emerge steeled, ready to do God's will. For Haimo, exegetes could read the signs for evidence of God's plan for sacred history and suggest the proper course of action.Footnote 46 Things, in other words, could change for the better. And Haimo wove this idea throughout all his exegesis. His commentary on Ezekiel 38:19 likened that verse's description of the shaking in the land of Israel to the righteous anger of the Christian emperors against heretics. As Constantine (306–37) raged against Arius, so did Charlemagne (768–814) against Felix of Urgell. By their actions, Haimo said, these rulers did God's work and added to the populus christianus.Footnote 47 In Haimo's eyes, the rulers of his time (particularly Charles the Bald [840–77]) needed reformation; they needed to listen to the new prophets, who reminded these rulers of the examples of old.Footnote 48 But these rulers were only archetypes; they could not do God's work alone. The real actors in this story seem to have been the Franks/Israel as a whole—the populus christianus. Haimo on Isaiah 5:26–30 signaled that God had moved His favor from the Jews to the men of Italy, Gaul, and Hispania (the men of Haimo's own West Francia). These were the men who acted as agents of God's will, punishing the Jews for their sins under Titus and Vespasian in 70 CE, then spreading the gospel to the all the world's peoples.Footnote 49

It is probably not a coincidence that the vast majority of the authors named above (17/21) who evoked or referenced Daniel did so after circa 830, amid the perceived political chaos of Charlemagne's descendents, when the old order seemed to be breaking down, when sons revolted against their father and Charlemagne's empire factionalized between East and West. It is also probably not a coincidence that about seventy-one percent of the above authors (15/21)—including Hrabanus and Haimo—wrote after 840, when the new chosen people began to spill their brothers’ blood in civil war. In these circumstances, Old Testament prophets like Ezekiel, Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Daniel, who cried out against Israel's failure to keep its covenant with God, lamenting the loss of Jerusalem, ruing the breakup of David's kingdom, seemed to be particularly relevant as churchmen looked on while their world seemed to crumble around them. In some instances, these exegetes saw themselves as the new prophets for the new Israel.Footnote 50 They watched as the Franks descended into fratricidal war after a perceived Golden Age. They watched the New Israel splinter because of its sins, just as had the Israel of old. In his commentary on Ezekiel, Haimo referred to Charles specifically as “Jeroboam,” Solomon's son who allowed the kingdom of Israel to splinter.Footnote 51

The Carolingian educational program that emphasized the Franks as a new chosen people had begun under Charlemagne but ironically took hold in the Frankish imagination just as the empire was coming apart.Footnote 52 As Alcuin, the Annales regni Francorum, Thegan's Gesta Hludowici imperatoris, Nithard's Histories, the Annales of Saint-Vaast, the decrees of the councils of Anjou (850) and Quierzy (853), and Regino of Prüm's Chronicon (among others) all asserted, the Franks were the populus christianus.Footnote 53 They protected the ecclesia, supported the Frankish ruler, and fought God's enemies. As the new Israel, Frankish victory in battle depended on the actions of the community as a whole, exemplified through the righteousness of their ruler. God's favor, however, was contingent and could be withdrawn if his people strayed from the true path.Footnote 54

Notker the Stammerer, likely writing in the 880s for Charles the Fat (876–88), also linked Daniel 2:21 with Nebuchadnezzar's vision of the statue.Footnote 55 Notker explained that God had brought low the statue of the Romans, anchored by feet of clay, but had newly raised up the golden head of another statue among the Franks—Charlemagne—who had begun something new, something great.Footnote 56 For Notker, the arc of sacred history was like a parabola; it began with a descent of kingdoms but then, at its nadir, could rise again with the Franks. Notker hoped that his new Charles, who once again (briefly) united Charlemagne's empire, would inspire the Franks to emulate their ancestors and bring themselves back into God's favor. Notker hoped that the Franks, even amid the political and social turmoil of the late ninth century, would eventually listen to the new prophets and purge themselves of sin, so that God would replace His beneficent hand upon them.

The ecclesia, the community of all the faithful, laymen and clerics, over whom the Frankish king ruled,Footnote 57 suffered from a surfeit of avarice: rulers fighting each other and oppressing the poor, clerics caring too much for this world, buying and selling their offices. God therefore withdrew his hand and the Franks were punished by pagan invasions. The New Israel needed restoration to return to God's favor, to defeat God's enemies and set the Christian world in order.Footnote 58

III. Conclusion: Urban II and the Ascent of Sacred History

Pope Gregory I and his late eleventh-century acolytes used Daniel 2:21 to speak of how God moved through the papacy to manifest His will. Jerome suggested that the movement of times and ages was one of decline, inevitably down, towards the End. Haimo of Auxerre blazed a somewhat new trail, suggesting that sacred history could rebound and that newly steeled “better men” (probatiores) would bring the Franks back to God. Urban seems closest to this latter path, perhaps because he had read Haimo's commentary on the Minor Prophets, or on Genesis, or the letters of Paul, or Revelation, or Isaiah, or Ezekiel, or Jeremiah, or Daniel—all of which sat on Cluny's shelves.Footnote 59 Urban II looked on hopefully. In the three instances in which Urban explicitly referenced Daniel 2:21, he gave agency to the Christian people.Footnote 60 Only God could change times and ages but He responded, in a sense, to the actions of the populus christianus. Their sins had allowed the pagan conquests to occur but their later actions began the reconquest.

Even when not specifically invoking that verse from Daniel, the belief that God's hand was shielding the Christian advance against His enemies suffused Urban's letters. At the beginning of his pontificate (1088), Urban II wrote to Archbishop Bernard of Toledo. Bernard had been at Cluny with Urban and Toledo had just been retaken from the Muslims in 1085 by King Alfonso VI of Léon-Castille (1065–1109). Toledo, Urban began, had long had ecclesiastical authority in both Iberia and Gaul, but the sins of its people had caused it to be lost to the Saracens for nearly 370 years. Now, however, the city has been liberated by the populus christianus and restored to its former glory.Footnote 61 The people of Christ provided a bulwark against the Saracens by retaking Tarragona, wrote Urban in 1089.Footnote 62 In 1091, Urban wrote to the abbot of St. Bartholomew in Lipari (Sicily) to explain how the West's sins had caused them to lose Sicily to the Saracens. Now, however, the Christians were reclaiming what was rightfully theirs.Footnote 63 Urban expressed similar thoughts in letters for St. Agatha in Catania (Sicily) in 1092 and the bishopric of Barbastro (in Iberia) around 1099.Footnote 64 Writing to some Catalonian nobles in late 1095, Urban linked the struggles in Asia and Iberia. These counts were also fighting on behalf of the people of Christ, striking back against the Saracens.Footnote 65 Similarly, in 1098 Urban would marvel to the bishop of Huesca how in the preceding years, the Christian people had exalted the faith by simultaneously fighting the Turks in Asia and the Moors in Spain, restoring cities in both places to their previous Christian worship.Footnote 66

The populus christianus now opposed the Saracens. They had, according to Urban, liberated Toledo, Tarragona, all Sicily, and were progressing to the Holy Land. These were the agents of Urban's reconquest and restoration. This was a ninth-century promise come true. Urban read Daniel through Haimo of Auxerre and, as Haimo had assured his readers, the arc of sacred history began to bend back upwards. The new Israel now listened to their watchmen and God had now returned His hand. He was “transforming kingdoms and changing times” for the better. The wicked had tested the faithful and forged them into instruments of God's will so that what had once been lost, was now being retaken.

The particular vision of reconquest promoted by Pope Urban II bore its fullest fruit in 1095-96, when more than 100,000 people, from all levels of society, left hearth and home in order to rescue their eastern brothers, expel Christ's enemies from the Holy Land, and reclaim Jerusalem. Those who have considered the sources of Urban's thinking (primarily scholars of the Crusades) are now generally in agreement that Urban was heavily influenced by the ideas of the reforming papacy, and Pope Gregory VII (1074–85) in particular.Footnote 67 Indeed, Gregory VII and the reform papacy probably did play a role in shaping Urban's thinking. After all, Urban spent a good deal of time in and around Roman reforming circles after 1080.Footnote 68 But Gregory's conception of Christian reconquest, while similar in its general outlines to Urban's, ultimately differs in specifics. Similar to his namesake who preceded him on the papal throne and other eleventh-century reformers, Gregory VII saw God's hand working primarily through the papacy. For example, compare how each conceptualized their proposed expeditions to the East. Gregory VII, who followed his papal namesake, would lead the army himself and the papacy would literally “transform kingdoms.” At no point did Urban suggest anything similar.Footnote 69 Gregory VII and Urban II belonged to similar, yet distinct, textual communities.Footnote 70

Instead, Urban—in all his writings—focused on the Christian people (populus christianus). Even the different versions of his 1095 speech at Clermont, as problematic as we now realize them to be,Footnote 71 strikingly corroborate the general outlines of this historical understanding. Here, group of pagans marauded into Christian territory, desecrating religious houses, tormenting and killing Christians. This all occurred as a punishment for their collective sins and fulfillment of events foretold in the books of Isaiah and Jeremiah (among others). The remedy? Purify the Christian community and have the Franks fight back. Only then, with the help of God, would Christ's enemies be defeated. But, again, this narrative of sacred history can be traced back to the ninth century, as the arc of sin, punishment, purification, and redemption was laid out by ninth-century chroniclers and exegetes reacting to the arrival of the Northmen.Footnote 72 This was a narrative that would have been familiar to speaker and audience alike. The story Urban told in 1095 “took” because it was one that both he and his aristocratic audience knew. He was retelling their shared history as Franks.Footnote 73

Frankish exegesis gave Urban a language to understand the movement of sacred history and how Old Testament prophets spoke to events past and present. For Urban, the united Christian people of the eighth and ninth centuries were punished for their sins with the pagan invasions. But God could change times and ages, erect and transform kingdoms. What went down could come back up. Beginning in the ninth century, the new watchmen over the house of Israel had seen what was happening and had been crying out their warnings. No one, however, seemed to be listening and Christians throughout the Mediterranean world suffered God's wrath because of their sins. Odo of Lagéry, monk of Cluny then Pope Urban II, himself steeped in ninth-century exegesis, continued that call so that at the end of the eleventh century, the work that had begun centuries before could be completed. During the 1090s, Urban watched in wonder as the new chosen people finally listened to the new prophets, reclaimed God's favor, fought back against His enemies, and began to restore the entire Mediterranean world to its ancient, rightful worship of the Lord.Footnote 74

References

1 London, BL Add. 22820. On the scriptorium of Cluny under Maiolus, see Garand, Monique-Cécile, “Copistes de Cluny au temps de saint Maieul (948-994),” Bibliothèque de l'école des chartes 136 (1978): 5–36CrossRefGoogle Scholar. On the circumstances of Hrabanus’ commentary, see De Jong, Mayke, “The Empire as Ecclesia: Hrabanus Maurus & Biblical Historia for Rulers,” in The Uses of the Past in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Hen, Yitzhak and Innes, Matthew (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 191–226CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

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3 See the example in Smith, Katherine Allen, War and the Making of Medieval Monastic Culture (Rochester, N.Y.: Boydell & Brewer, 2011), 127Google Scholar. Other examples in Shimahara, Sumi, “Daniel et les visions politiques à l’époque carolingienne,” Médiévales 55 (2008): 21Google Scholar; and Scheppard, Carol, “Prophetic History: Tales of Righteousness and Calls to Action in the Ecologae Tractatorum in Psalterium,” in The Study of the Bible in the Carolingian Era, ed. Chazelle, Celia and van Name Edwards, Burton (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), 61–73CrossRefGoogle Scholar. See also, more generally, on this process of association—the catena—Mary Carruthers, The Book of Memory: A Study of Memory in Medieval Culture (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990)Google Scholar.

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5 “Nunc ergo precor et amplector fraternitatem vestram, ut agatis viriliter atque constanter, et confortemini in potentia virtutis Dei ascendentes ex adverso et opponentes murum pro domo Israel [Ezek. 13:5], ut strenuissimi Domini bellatores stetis in praelio in die ipsius. Vos ergo qui spiritualiter estis, eos qui instructi non sunt verbis et exemplis instruite, et exhortamini sicut scitis et necessitas exigit hujus periculosi temporis [2 Tim. 3:1]. . . Insuper apud omnipotentis Dei misericordiam continuas preces effundite, quatenus et Ecclesiam suam sanctam in gradum pristinum misericorditer restaurare dignetur” (Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:284).

6 Cf. the Vulgate: “non ascendistis ex adverso neque opposuistis murum pro domo Israhel ut staretis in proelio in die Domini;” and Urban's letter (note 5 above): “ascendentes ex adverso et opponentes murum pro domo Israel, ut strenuissimi Domini bellatores stetis in praelio in die ipsius.” Note how Urban has changed the temporal frame of the verse. Instead of saying what did not happen, Urban is using Ezekiel to show what is happening now.

7 On the use of 2 Timothy 3:1, see Brandes, Wolfram, “Tempora periculosa sunt. Eschatologisches im Vorfeld der Kaiserkrönung Karls des Grossen,” in Das Frankfurter Konzil von 794: Kristallisationspunkt karolingischer Kultur, ed. Berndt, Rainer Jr. (Mainz, Germany: Selbstverl. der Gesellschaft für mittelrheinische Kirchengeschichte, 1997), 49–79Google Scholar; and on the tradition of Ezekiel 13:5, see Matthew Gabriele, “Odo of Cluny, Adso of Montier-en-Der, and the Pincer of Past and Future,” (unpublished manuscript).

8 H. E. J. Cowdrey has suggested that Cluny played an important, if indirect, role in shaping Urban II's ideas but his focus was on the liturgy, rather than on Urban's intellectual formation. Philippe Buc and Jay Rubenstein have linked exegesis and the First Crusade, but not through Urban II. See Cowdrey, H. E. J., “Pope Urban II and the Idea of Crusade,” Studi Medievali 36 (1995): 729–30Google Scholar; idem, “Cluny and the First Crusade,” Revue Bénédictine 83 (1975): 285–311Google Scholar; Buc, Philippe, “Exégèse et violence dans la tradition occidentale,” Annali di Storia moderna e contemporanea 16 (2010): 131–44Google Scholar; and Rubenstein, Jay, Armies of Heaven: The First Crusade and the Quest for the Apocalypse (New York: Basic Books, 2011)Google Scholar.

9 Becker, Alfons, Papst Urban II (1088–1099), 2 vols. (Stuttgart, Germany: Hiersemann, 1964–88), 2:352–58Google Scholar.

10 On the application of exegesis, the origins of a “theology of politics,” see the underutilized Caspary, Gerard E., Politics and Exegesis: Origen and the Two Swords, (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1979), especially 8–10, 189–91Google Scholar; and more recently Buc, Philippe, L'ambiguite du livre: Prince, pouvoir et peuple dans les commentaires de la Bible au Moyen Âge (Paris: Beauchesne, 1994)Google Scholar; idem, “La vengeance de Dieu: De l'exégèse patristique à la réforme ecclésiastique et à la première croisade,” in La Vengeance, 400–1200, ed. Barthélemy, Dominique, Bougard, François, and Le Jan, Régine (Rome: École française de Rome, 2006), 451–86Google Scholar.

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12 On Bruno at Reims, see Demouy, Patrick, “Bruno et la réforme de l’Église de Reims,” in Saint Bruno et sa posterité spirituelle: Actes du colloque international de 8 et 9 octobre 2001 a l'Institut catholique de Paris, ed. Girard, Alain, le Blévec, Daniel, and Nabert, Nathalie (Salzburg, Austria: Institut für Anglistik und Amerikanistik, 2003), 13–20Google Scholar. On the educational tradition and manuscripts, see Glenn, Jason, Politics and History in the Tenth Century: The Work and World of Richer of Reims (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 54–64Google Scholar; Becker, Papst Urban II., 1: 31–35; and Sot, Michel, Un historien et son église au Xe siècle: Flodoard de Reims (Paris: Fayard, 1993), 72–74Google Scholar. On tenth-century education as a continuation of the ninth, see Contreni, John J., “The Tenth Century: The Perspective from the Schools,” in Haut Moyen-Âge: Culture, education et société: Études offerts à Pierre Riché, ed. Sot, Michel, et al. (Paris: Éditions européennes Erasme, 1990), 379–87Google Scholar.

13 See below at note 27.

14 On Odo's biography, see Rosé, Isabelle, Construire une société seigneuriale: Itinéraire et ecclésiologie de l'abbé Odon de Cluny (fin du IXe - milieu du Xe siècle) (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), 35–368CrossRefGoogle Scholar. On his education, see See John of Salerno, Vita sancti Odonis, PL 133:45, 52.

15 von Büren, Veronika, “Le grand catalogue de la bibliothèque de Cluny,” in Le gouvernement d'Hugues de Semur à Cluny: Actes du colloque scientifique international (Cluny, France: Musée Ochier, 1990), 254–60Google Scholar; idem, “Le catalogue de la bibliothèque de Cluny du XIe siècle reconstitué,” Scriptorium 46 (1992): 256–67Google Scholar. The catalog itself can be found at Delisle, Léopold, Inventaire des manuscrits de la Bibliothèque Nationale: Fonds de Cluni (Paris: Champion, 1884), 337–73Google Scholar, online at http://tertullian.org/articles/delisle_cluny_catalogue.htm.

16 Delisle, Inventaire des manuscrits, nos. 234, 271–72 (Paschasius), 85–86, 242, 367, 375, 410, 521 (Alcuin), and 338–91 (Hrabanus, though not all these are by him).

17 Delisle, Inventaire des manuscrits, nos. 347, 427, 430, 431, 428, and 429, respectively. We should also note that there are a number of unattributed commentaries in the catalog, which could well be Carolingian in origin. For example, the catalog also lists (no. 557) “Volumen in quo continetur tractatus de grammatica, habens in principio expositionem somniorum Nabuchodonosor.” This text, specifically on Daniel 2, may well be another of Haimo's, given the Auxerre connection to Cluny's collection, Haimo's interest in grammar, his status as a school master, and his interest in the Old Testament prophets. On Haimo as grammarian, see below.

18 Wilmart, André, “Le couvent et la bibliothèque de Cluny vers le milieu du Xle siècle,” Revue Mabillon 11 (1921): 92–94, 104–6Google Scholar. Text itself at Liber tramitis aevi Odilonis abbatis, ed. Dinter, Peter, CCM 10 (Siegburg, Germany: Verlag Franz Schmitt, 1980), 261–64Google Scholar.

19 See, respectively, London, BL Harley 3026; London, BL Harley 3102; and London, BL Egerton 2782.

20 See the description of an eleventh-century version of Haimo on Ezekiel in Stirnemann, Patricia, “L'illustration du commentaire d'Haymon sur Ezéchiel: Paris, B.N. latin 12302,” in L’école carolingienne d'Auxerre: De Murethach à Remi, 830-908, ed. Iogna-Prat, Dominique, Jeudy, Colette, and Lobrichon, Guy (Paris: Beauchesne, 1991), 93–117Google Scholar.

21 Bruce, Scott G., “An Abbot Between Two Cultures: Maiolus of Cluny Confronts the Muslims of La Garde-Freinet,” Early Medieval Europe 15 (2007): 437–39CrossRefGoogle Scholar. Bruce erroneously follows the PL's attribution of the commentary to Haimo of Halberstadt. It is, however, indeed Haimo of Auxerre's. See Quadri, P. Riccardo, Aimone di Auxerre a la luce dei “Collectanea” di Heiric di Auxerre (Padua, Italy: Antenore, 1962), 7–18Google Scholar.

22 In the dedicatory verses of “Odilo's Bible” (Paris BNF lat. 15176), the scribe stole a poem from Alcuin to Charlemagne, replacing Alcuin's name with his and Charlemagne's with Odilo's. Another compilation on Mary commissioned by Odilo in the early eleventh century included Haimo's commentary on the Song of Songs. See, respectively, Stratford, Neil, “La Bible dite ‘d'Odilon,’” in Cluny 910–2010: Onze Siècles De Rayonnement, ed. Stratford, Neil (Paris: Editions du Patrimoine Centre des monuments nationaux, 2010), 92Google Scholar; and Garand, Monique-Cécile, “Une collection personelle de Saint Odilon de Cluny et ses complements,” Scriptorium 33 (1979): 163–80CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

23 Iogna-Prat, Dominique, Order & Exculsion: Cluny and Christendom Face Heresy, Judaism, and Islam (1000–1150), trans. Edwards, Graham Robert (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2002), 106Google Scholar; Cochelin, Isabelle, “When Monks Were the Book: The Bible and Monasticism (6th-11th Centuries),” in The Practice of the Bible in the Middle Ages: Production, Reception, and Performance in Western Christianity, ed. Boynton, Susan and Reilly, Diane J. (New York: Columbia University Press, 2011), 64Google Scholar. See also Moore, Michael E. Hoenicke, “Demons and the Battle for Souls at Cluny,” Studies in Religion/ Sciences Religieuses 32 (2003): 488–91Google Scholar; who suggests that Odilo's demonology was rooted in Carolingian thought.

24 Lobrichon, Guy, “L'ordre de ce temps et les désordres de la Fin: Apocalypse et société, du XIe à la fin du XIe siècle,” in The Use and Abuse of Eschatology in the Middle Ages, ed. Verbeke, Werner, Verhelst, Daniel, and Welkhenhuysen, Andries (Leuven: Leuven University Press, 1988), 235Google Scholar; and Heath, Robert G., Crux Imperatorum Philosophia: Imperial Horizons of the Cluniac Confraternitas, 964–1109 (Pittsburgh, Penn: Pickwick Press, 1976), 93–94Google Scholar.

25 Bulst, N., “Hugo I. v. Semur, hl., 6. Abt v. Cluny,” in Lexikon des Mittelalters, 10 vols. (Stuttgart: Metzler, [1977]–1999), vol. 5, cols 165–66Google Scholar.

26 Smalley, Beryl, The Study of the Bible in the Middle Ages (Notre Dame, Ind.: University of Notre Dame Press, 1964), 44Google Scholar. More recently echoed in Lobrichon, “L'ordre de ce temps et les désordres de la Fin,” 236–37.

27 John of Salerno, Vita Odonis, PL 133:49, 60. Most likely, Odo is specifically commenting on what we know of as the Book of Lamentations, which Hrabanus Maurus and Paschasius Radbertus had both also commented on in three books. See Matter, E. Ann, “The Lamentations Commentaries of Hrabanus Maurus and Paschasius Radbertus,” Traditio 38 (1982): 137–63CrossRefGoogle Scholar. See also Rosé, Construire une société seigneuriale, 132n365; and Rosenwein, Barbara, Rhinocerous Bound: Cluny in the Tenth Century (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1982), 57, 66–67, 72CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

28 See the dated (but still impressive) list compiled by Burton van Name Edwards at http://www.tcnj.edu/~chazelle/carindex.htm. See also the case study in Iogna-Prat, Dominique, “Lieu de culte et exégèse liturgique à l’époque carolingienne,” in The Study of the Bible in the Carolingian Era, ed. Chazelle, Celia and van Name Edwards, Burton (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), 242–43Google Scholar.

29 In addition, Abbot Maiolus of Cluny reformed Saint-Germain in 980. See Rosenwein, Rhinoceros Bound, 54.

30 “God changes times and ages; erects and transforms kingdoms.”

31 “Justus autem Dominus in viis suis, et sanctus in omnibus operibus suis, qui, cum in plerisque judiciis incomprehensibilis habeatur, in nullo unquam valet reprehensibilis aestimari, ipse transfert regna et mutat tempora [Dan. 2:21]: ipsi visum est in eadem urbe olim Tarraconensis urbis gloriam exaltare; ipsi visum est in eadem urbe peccata populi sui visitare. Cum enim in ea Christianorum populus habitaret, visitavit in virga iniquitates eorum et in verberibus peccata eorum. Sed ecce jam transactis trecentis nonaginta annis, ex quo praefatam urbem Agarenorum gens prope solitariam fecerit, principum suorum cordibus inspirare dignatus est ut ejusdem urbis restitutioni, secundum praeceptum apostolicae sedis, cui auctoritate Dei, licet indigni, praesidemus, insisterent” (Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:332–33). The best single account of Urban's interest in Tarragona remains unpublished, see McCrank, Lawrence J., “Restoration and Reconquest in Medieval Catalonia: The Church and Principality of Tarragona, 971–1177” (PhD Dissertation, History, University of Virginia, 1974)Google Scholar.

32 “Universis fere per orbem Christianorum populis notum esse credimus Siciliae insulam, multis quondam et nobilibus illustratam Ecclesiis, opibusque et populo copiosam, multorumque religione effulsisse virorum, et quarumdam sanctissimarum martyrum et virginum claruisse martyrio. . . . Dominator autem rerum omnium Deus, cujus sapientia et fortitudo, quando vult, regnum transfert, et mutat tempora [Dan. 2:21], quemadmodum ex occidentis partibus militem Rogerium, scilicet virum et consilio optimum, et bello strenuissimum, ad eamdem insulam transtulit, qui multo labore, frequentibus praeliis, et crebris suorum militum caede et sanguinis effusione regionem praedictam a servitute gentilium opitulante Domino liberavit” (Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:370–71).

33 “Omnipotentis Dei dispositione mutantur tempora, transferuntur regna [Dan. 2:21]; hinc est quod magni nominis nationes dirutas et depressas, viles vero atque exiguas nonnunquam legimus exaltatas; hinc est quod in quibusdam regionibus Christiani nominis potestatem paganorum feritas occupavit, in quibusdam iterum paganorum tyrannidem Christianae potentiae dignitas conculcavit. Sicut nostris temporibus gloriosissimorum principum Roberti ducis et Rogerii comitis fortitudine supremae dignationis miseratio omnem Saracenorum molestiam in Sicilia insula expugnavit, et antiquum Ecclesiae sanctae statum pro voluntatis suae beneplacito recuperavit” (Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:510). This particular letter bears a strong resemblance to a 1083 letter given by Gregory VII to Archbishop Alcherius of Palermo. See the discussion of Gregory's letter in Whalen, Brett Edward, Dominion of God: Christendom and Apocalypse in the Middle Ages (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 2009), 36CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

34 Generally, see the discussion in Becker, Papst Urban II, 2: 355–57.

35 Gregory, I, Registrum, ed. Ewald, P. and Hartmann, L. M., MGH Epist. 2 (Berlin: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1899), 397Google Scholar. This tradition has been traced back in Ringel, Ingrid Heike, “Ipse transfert regna et mutat tempora: Beobachtungen zur Herkunft von Dan. 2,21 bei Urban II,” in Deus qui mutat tempora: Menschen und Institutionen im Wandel des Mittelalters, eds. Hehl, Ernst-Dieter, Seibert, Hubertus, and Staab, Franz (Sigmaringen, Germany: J. Thorbecke, 1987), 137–56Google Scholar.

36 For example, Manegold of Lautenbach, Ad Geberhardum, ed. Francke, K., MGH LdL 1 (Hannover, Germany: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1891), 362Google Scholar; and Damian, Peter, Epistolae, ed. Reindel, Kurt, MGH Epist. 4:1 (Münich: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1983), 143Google Scholar. Daniel was referenced more generally by other authors involved in the conflict between king and pope but never specifically Daniel 2:21. For instance, see Anonymous of Hersfeld, De unitate ecclesiae conservanda, ed. Schweckenbecher, W., MGH LdL 2 (Hannover, Germany: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1892), 204, 231Google Scholar; and Bernold of Hildesheim, Liber canonum contra Heinricum IV, ed. Thaner, F., MGH LdL 1 (Hannover, Germany: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1891), 483, 502Google Scholar.

37 Jerome, In Danielem, ed. Glorie, Francisco, CCSL 75A (Turnhout: Brepols, 1964), 787Google Scholar. For more on Jerome's commentary, see Courtray, Régis, Prophète des temps derniers: Jérome commente Daniel (Paris: Beauchesne, 2009)Google Scholar.

38 Concilium Parisiense, MGH Concilia 2.2 (Hannover, Germany: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1908), 541Google Scholar; Theodulf of Orléans, Carminae, MGH Poetae 1 (Berlin: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1881), 474, 475, 492Google Scholar; idem, Libri Carolini, ed. Freeman, Ann and Meyvaert, Paul (Hannover, Germany: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1998), 154, 156, 306Google Scholar; Dhuoda, Liber Manualis, ed. and trans. Thiébaux, Marcelle (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 98, 142, 176Google Scholar; Scottus, Sedulius, Collectaneum miscellaneum, ed. Simpson, D., CCCM 67 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1988), 81, 113, 159, 168, 182, 214Google Scholar; Heiric of Auxerre, Collecteana, ed. Quadri, Riccardo, Spicilegium Friburgense 2 (Freiburg, Germany: Freiburg University Press, 1966), 115, 117, 120, 121, 124–27, 130, 155Google Scholar; Eriugena, John Scotus, Expositiones in hierarchiam coelestem, ed. Barbet, J., CCCM 31 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1975), 131–32, 185, 191Google Scholar; Christian of Stavelot, Expositio super librum generationis, ed. Huygens, R. B. C., CCCM 224 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008), 436, 439Google Scholar; Notker the Stammerer, Gesta Karoli Magni imperatoris, ed. Haefele, H. F., MGH SRG n.s. 12 (Berlin: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1959), 1Google Scholar; and on the Visio Karoli Magni, see Dutton, Paul Edward, The Politics of Dreaming in the Carolingian Empire (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press, 1994), 200–8Google Scholar. Ingrid Ringel has noted that Beatus of Liébana (d. ca. 798) and Paulus Alvarus of Cordoba (d. after 860) referenced Daniel extensively in their writings and should be seen as having influenced Urban. Yet, neither specifically invoked Daniel 2:21 and neither were found in Cluny's library. See Ringel, “Ipse transfert regna,” 137–56; Beatus of Liébana, Commentarius in Apocalypsin, ed. Romero-Pose, E., 2 vols. (Rome: Istituto Poligrafico, 1985)Google Scholar; and Paulus Alvarus, Indiculus Luminosus, PL 121:513–56.

39 Liudprand of Cremona, Relatio de legatione Constantinopolitana, ed. Becker, Joseph, MGH SRG 41 (Hannover, Germany: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1915), 195Google Scholar; Hrosvita of Gandersheim, Gesta Ottonis, ed. von Winterfeld, P., MGH SRG 34 (Berlin: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1902), 204Google Scholar; Fulcuin of Lobbes, Gesta abbatum Lobiensium, MGH SS 4: 55, 71; Adso of Montier-en-Der, De antichristo, ed. Verhelst, D., CCCM 45 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1976), 25, and 122, 148Google Scholar; and Heriger of Lobbes, Epistolae, PL 159:1129.

40 Shimahara, “Daniel et les visions,” 19–21; idem, “Le succès médiéval de l’Annotation brève sur Daniel d'Haymon d'Auxerre, texte scolaire carolingien exhortant à la réforme,” in Études d'exégèse carolingienne: Autour d'Haymon d'Auxerre, ed. Shimahara, Sumi (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007), 124–25CrossRefGoogle Scholar; and Courtray, Régis, “La réception du Commentaire sur Daniel de Jérôme dans l'Occident médiéval chrétien (VIIe-XIIe siècle),” Sacris Erudiri 44 (2005): 127–41CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

41 On the development of exegesis in the ninth century, see Chazelle, Celia, and van Name Edwards, Burton, “Introduction: The Study of the Bible and Carolingian Culture,” in The Study of the Bible in the Carolingian Era, ed. Chazelle, Celia and van Name Edwards, Burton (Turnhout: Brepols, 2003), 10–12CrossRefGoogle Scholar; and especially Berarducci, “L'esegesi della Rinascita carolingia,” 167–98.

42 “Ipse mutat tempora et aetates, transfert regna atque constituit. Non ergo miremur siquando cernimus regibus reges et regnis regna succedere, quae dei gubernantur et mutantur arbitrio. Causasque singulorum nouit ille qui conditor est omnium, et saepe malos reges patitur suscitari ut mali malos puniant; simulque subostendit, et generali disputatione preparat auditorem, et somnium quod uidit esse de mutationem et succisionem regnorum” (Hrbanus Maurus, In Danielem). Text courtesy of William Schipper, personal correspondance, October 7, 2009. Prof. Schipper is currently preparing an edition of the commentary for the CCCM. Hrabanus’ dedicatory epistle of the work (to Louis the German [840–76]) is available at Maurus, Hrabanus, Ad Ludowicum, ed. Dümmler, Ernest, MGH Epist. Karol. 5 (Berlin: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1899), 467–69Google Scholar. See also Courtray, “La réception du Commentaire,” 127–30.

43 See Quadri, Aimone di Auxerre, 7–18; and Contreni, John J., “Haimo of Auxerre, Abbot of Sasceium (Cessy-les-Bois), and a New Sermon on 1 John V, 4–10,” Révue Bénédictine 85 (1975): 303–20CrossRefGoogle Scholar. Heiric, in turn, was succeeded at Saint-Germain by Remigius of Auxerre, who later moved north, first taking over the cathedral school at Reims in 893 at the request of Archbishop Fulco (d. 900), then moving to Paris after his patron's death. See Contreni, “Haimo of Auxerre,” 307.

44 Lobrichon, Guy, “Stalking the Signs: The Apocalyptic Commentaries,” in The Apocalyptic Year 1000: Religious Expectation and Social Change, 950-1050, ed. Landes, Richard, Gow, Andrew, and van Meter, David C. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), 69Google Scholar. On Haimo's changes, see Courtray, “La réception du Commentaire,” 133–39; and then, for specific instances, Shimahara, “Succès médiéval,” 143–46; idem, “Daniel et les visions,” 24–27; and idem, “Représentation du pouvoir,” 81–82, 89.

45 “Ipse mutat tempora, id est sua prouidentia et dispositione facit reges regibus succedere, et regnis regna. Et interdum permittat malos regnare ut et mali malos puniant, et boni per eos probatiores fiant. Quarum rerum ideo meminit quia mutationem futuram in uisione cognouit” (Haimo of Auxerre, In Danielem). Text courtesy of Sumi Shimahara, personal correspondance, October 3, 2009. Dr. Shimahara is currently preparing an edition of this commentary for the CCCM.

46 Contreni, “Haimo of Auxerre,” 234; and Shimahara, “Le succès médiéval,” 159–63.

47 Contreni, John J., “Haimo of Auxerre's Commentary on Ezekiel,” in L’école carolingienne d'Auxerre: De Murethach à Remi, 830–908, ed. Iogna-Prat, Dominique, Jeudy, Colette, and Lobrichon, Guy (Paris: Beauchesne, 1991), 235Google Scholar.

48 Shimahara, “Le succès médiéval,” 163; and idem, “Daniel et les visions,” 25–27.

49 Text reproduced in Haimo of Auxerre, In Isaiam 5,1-6,1, in Gabriel, C., “Commentaires inédits d'Haymon d'Auxerre sur Isaïe 5,1 - 6,1,” Sacris Erudiri 35 (1995): 109–10CrossRefGoogle Scholar. This sentiment of collective responsibility was especially pronounced in one of Haimo's contemporaries, Nithard, who saw greed driving the evil actions of his contemporaries. Nithard, Historiarum libri III, ed. Müller, E., MGH SRG 44 (Hannover, Germany: Monumenta Germaniae Historica, 1907), especially 39–50Google Scholar.

50 Wala (d. 836), for example, could be seen as a new Jeremiah. Notker the Stammerer was a new Daniel. See de Jong, Mayke, The Penitential State: Authority and Atonement in the Age of Louis the Pious, 814-840 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 102–11, 146–47, 166–69Google Scholar; and Dutton, Politics of Dreaming, 199–200; respectively. More generally, see Shimahara, Sumi, “La Représentation du pouvoir séculier chez Haymon d'Auxerre,” in The Multiple Meanings of Scripture: The Role of Exegesis in Early-Christian and Medieval Culture, ed. van't Spijker, Ineke (Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 2009), 77–99Google Scholar; Contreni, John J., “‘By Lions, Bishops are Meant; by Wolves, Priests:’ History, Exegesis, and the Carolingian Church in Haimo of Auxerre's Commentary on Ezechiel,” Francia 29 (2002): 31–53Google Scholar; Dutton, Politics of Dreaming, 138–40, 204–5; and Riché, Pierre, “La Bible et la vie politique dans le haut Moyen Âge,” in Le Moyen Age et la Bible, ed. Riché, Pierre and Lobrichon, Guy (Paris: Beauchesne, 1984), 385–400Google Scholar.

51 Contreni, “History, Exegesis,” 49.

52 See Garrison, Mary, “The Franks as the New Israel? Education for an Identity from Pippin to Charlemagne,” in The Uses of the Past in the Early Middle Ages, ed. Hen, Yitzhak and Innes, Matthew (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 114–61CrossRefGoogle Scholar; and Gabriele, Empire of Memory, 97–106.

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57 For example, see De Jong, Mayke, “Charlemagne's Church,” in Charlemagne: Empire and Society, ed. Story, Joanna (Manchester, U.K.: Manchester University Press, 2005), 103–35Google Scholar.

58 Contreni, “History, Exegesis,” 38–53.

59 See above at note 17.

60 Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:332–33, 370–72, and 510–11.

61 Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:288.

62 Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:303.

63 Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:329.

64 Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:339–41, 539, respectively.

65 Papsturkunden in Katalanien, ed. Kehr, Paul, Abhandlungen der Gesellschaft der Wissenschaften zu Göttingen (Berlin: Weidmann, 1926), no. 23Google Scholar.

66 Urban II, Epistolae, PL 151:504.

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68 Urban may also have found some of Gregory's ideas appealing because, when Gregory himself was a monk, he may have imbibed some of the same Cluniac material Urban did. After his initial education, likely at the Lateran, Hildebrand spent time at the Cluniac house of St. Mary's-on-the-Aventine in Rome (reformed by Odo of Cluny), then perhaps at one of the many monasteries around Cologne, and probably visited Cluny itself near the end of Odilo's abbacy. See Cowdrey, H. E. J., Pope Gregory VII, 1073-1085 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998), 28–30CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

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71 For instance, see Bull, Marcus, “Views of Muslims and of Jerusalem in Miracle Stories, c. 1000–c. 1200: Reflections on the Study of the First Crusaders’ Motivations,” in The Experience of Crusading, ed. Bull, Marcus and Housley, Norman, 2 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 1:22Google Scholar; and Gabriele, Empire of Memory, 145–50.

72 Coupland, Simon, “The Rod of God's Wrath or the People of God's Wrath? The Carolingian Theology of the Viking Invasions,” The Journal of Ecclesiastical History 42 (1991): 535–54CrossRefGoogle Scholar; and Jones, Anna Trumbore, “Pitying the Desolation of Such a Place: Rebuilding Religious Houses and Constructing Memory in Aquitaine in the Wake of the Viking Incursions,” Viator 37 (2006): 85–102CrossRefGoogle Scholar.

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74 In his account of the First Crusade, Baldric of Dol may have sensed, but certainly echoed, Urban's reliance on Daniel 2:21 in explaining the events he witnessed. See Baldric of Dol, Historia Jerosolimitana, RHC Occ. 4:9; and the discussion in Whalen, Dominion of God, 53.