Traditionally, the establishment of both al-Khandaq in Crete (which I have written about elsewhere on this blog) and Jabal al-Qilal in Provence by Andalusi Muslims has been understood as a manifestation of the phenomenon of what many scholars have termed “Saracen piracy.” Although modern scholars still occasionally apply this definition, several historians of both Fraxinetum and Crete have tended to be more cautious about how they term the movement that facilitated the arrival of the Muslims in the Aegean and Provence. Consequently, the historiography of the Muslim Mediterranean in the early Middle Ages has branched into two lines of argumentation, with more recent scholarship challenging the traditional interpretation of Muslim bases in the Mediterranean as “pirate nests.” The debate has focused on defining the exact nature of Muslim maritime expansion, and has been split on characterizing this phenomenon either as part of the trend of “piracy” or as part of the larger, more complex context of jihad (holy war) on the Mediterranean frontier with Christendom in the early Middle Ages

Although the debate over whether Fraxinetum should be characterized as a frontier state or a pirate base may appear to be a mere argument over semantics, there is some value in thinking carefully about how we should identify the phenomenon that prompted a group of Andalusis to dominate much of southern Provence and the Alpine passes for nearly a century. Scholars of early medieval Muslim maritime expansion have distinguished between organized, dynastic-sponsored ventures, such as the conquest of Sicily by the Aghlabids, and independent, more spontaneous campaigns, including the establishment of Muslim bases at Fraxinetum, Crete, and southern Italy. This distinction has formed the grounds for the debate about whether the actions of autonomous Muslim sailors in the Mediterranean constituted piracy or corresponded to jihad. While the official nature of the conquest of Sicily by the Aghlabids contrasts sharply with the unorganized and spontaneous seizure of towns by Muslims in southern Italy, it is less evident that the general motivating factor of both ventures was entirely different. The use of the word “official” in this context is potentially problematic and needs to be clarified.

“Official” is meant to denote the endorsement, participation, legitimacy, and aid granted by the dominant Muslim dynasties (the Aghlabids, the Abbasids, the Umayyads, the Tulunids, and the Fatimids) to the independent flotillas operating in the Mediterranean. Historically, the authority to declare jihad rested with the amir or khalifa, who sponsored and even participated in such expeditions, which were meant to bestow the ruler with and confirm his Islamic legitimacy, given that jihad was viewed as an obligation.[1] Furthermore, such “official” calls for jihad were launched from fortified coastal/frontier towns, known as ribaṭs, which were usually established, garrisoned, and supported by the troops of major Muslim dynasties. While several campaigns were known to be officially sponsored and labeled as “jihad” by an Islamic centralized authority, as was the case with the conquest of Sicily in 827 and the campaigns of the Abbasids against Byzantium in the early ninth century, it is highly ambiguous whether other expeditions, such as the invasion of Crete, were considered as such, since they were not initiated by any major dynasty. Nevertheless, because these campaigns/incursions were also carried out against non-Muslim territory, regardless of the fact that they were not organized in the traditional sense or coordinated by a centralized authority, they can also be considered jihad according to tenth-century Islamic jurisprudence.

(Ribat, Sousse, Tunisia)

As Deborah Tor has recently shown, beginning in the late eighth and early ninth century a new phenomenon began to take shape in the Islamic world, namely that of “privatized jihad.”[2] This involved the transference of religious leadership of jihad from the Caliph to the mutaṭawwi‘a, or ghazis, volunteer warriors for the faith, and hence the transformation of jihad from “centrally-directed state campaigns to independent, non-governmentally controlled smaller-scale raids.”[3]   Although lacking any dynastic endorsement or legitimacy acquired directly from the Caliph, these campaigns were viewed by their participants and other observers in the Islamic world as an exercise of the religious duty of jihad, given that the objective was not merely to plunder or raid, but to defend (or expand) the frontiers of the Islamic world by establishing ribaṭ outposts garrisoned by ghazi warriors.[4]. It is in this latter sense that the establishment of Fraxinetum and the conquest of Crete by the Andalusis differed from the more recognizable jihad launched by Muslim dynasties such as the Abbasids or the Aghlabids.

Although many historians have not distinguished between piracy and jihad, especially within the context of the tenth-century Mediterranean, there is a major difference. In the case of the Muslims of Fraxinetum, it is clear that their raids were aimed largely (if not solely) against non-Muslim shipping in the western Mediterranean and non-Muslim targets in Provence and Piedmont (monasteries, villages, etc.).[5] Therefore, it is more appropriate to speak of their activities/raids within the context of guerre de course or jihad, rather than within the vague context of “piracy.” This argument in favor of viewing the Muslims of Fraxinetum  as ghazis engaged in jihad is reinforced by Ibn Hawqal’s characterization of them as “mujahideen” (holy warriors; literally “those who do jihad”), and by al-Istakhri’s description of them as constantly engaged in “holy war” with the “infidel Franks.” This does not mean that “jihad” did not encompass piratical activities such as looting, enslavement, and murder, but only that there was a broader ideological context in which such activities took place.

The creation of the Spanish March in 795 greatly reduced the prospects of the Andalusi Muslims extending their conquests beyond the Pyrenees and induced them to turn to maritime activity. Although there is evidence of land incursions into Aquitaine and Septimania as late as 931, when an Andalusi army sacked Toulouse, land-based campaigns against Francia launched from al-Andalus were quite rare. Fraxinetum, it would seem, provided an outpost to the Andalusis from which they could continue to wage jihad against the Franks. Beyond this ideological justification provided for their activities by the contemporary Muslim sources, Fraxinetum was a major source of wealth in the form of slaves and timber.

It would perhaps be most useful to think of the Muslim sea-raiders in the early medieval Mediterranean as ghazis, a term which allows scholars to characterize their activities without downplaying either the strategic/economic dimension of the raids or lose sight of the ideological framework in which they were taking place.[6] The term “piracy,” while certainly an accurate characterization of some of the activities of the Muslims in places such as Fraxinetum and Crete, is largely unhelpful because it fails to convey the complexity of such frontier establishments. Moreover, this terminology is largely a product of an uncritical reading of the primary sources, which has led to the replication of many of the arguments and assumptions of the medieval Latin authors within modern scholarship. It is undeniable, based on several contemporary accounts, both Christian and Muslim, that the activities of the Muslims in Provence included significant destructive attacks against the regions adjacent to their main base. However, they also engaged in other, less hostile activities, such as trade, agriculture, and industry. The image presented by Latin chroniclers is largely that of Muslim Arab raiders aimlessly pillaging and looting the Provencal landscape. This picture, while certainly reflective of the perceptions of Christian chroniclers, obscures the other reality, represented by the Arabic chroniclers, of a Muslim frontier region also engaged in peaceful activities and fulfilling a larger political, military, and even religious function.

By looking at how the contemporary Arabic sources portray the Andalusis in Provence, and juxtaposing their representation with the portrayal in the traditional set of Latin texts, it becomes clear why modern scholars have described the Muslims of Fraxinetum in different ways. The image presented by the Latin chronicles and that provided by the Arabic sources present a contradictory view of the Muslim settlement and the activities of its inhabitants. Whereas the Latin sources almost unanimously describe the Muslims in unflattering terms, such as “raiders,” “perfidious thieves,” “barbarians,” or “pirates,” the Muslim sources refer to “steadfast souls” and “holy warriors.” While they are informative and descriptive with respect to the raids of the Andalusis in Provence, the Latin documents are less useful in describing the Muslims themselves or their base at Fraxinetum. Similarly, there is no reason to take the Muslim sources at their word when they describe the Andalusis in Provence in such flattering terms. However, considering this textual evidence allows us to counterbalance the one-sided testimony of the Latin chronicles and allows us to appreciate the complexity of Fraxinetum.

It is understandable that the Latin chroniclers portrayed the Andalusi Muslims negatively due to the devastation that accompanied their raids. It is also evident that, apart from experiencing the raids first hand, the ecclesiastical chroniclers, from whom most information regarding Fraxinetum has reached modern historians, had little direct contact with the Muslims in their own environment, and had only a vague idea of their other, less violent activities. Consequently, the natural outcome of scholars giving more weight to the Latin sources, which are more plentiful and presently far more accessible, is that the representation of the Muslims of Provence by the Frankish chroniclers becomes more influential and gradually more acceptable in scholarly discourse about Fraxinetum. In other words, the image represented by writers such as Ekkehard of St. Gall, Liutprand of Cremona, and the author of the Chronicle of Novalesa—who all portray Andalusi raiders pillaging Provence, Piedmont, and the Alps and aimlessly sacking monasteries—has become the dominant depiction of the Muslims of Fraxinetum. As a result of the frequency of such accounts, many historians discuss Fraxinetum solely in terms of piracy and destructive raids, rather than questioning the veracity of the accounts or conceptualizing Fraxinetum in ways other than as a pirate base. Some scholars have even referred to the tenacious persistence of this image as the “black legend” (legende noire).[7]

A clearer view of the extent to which the Muslim raiders of the western Mediterranean were characterized as “pirates” and “barbarians” by the Latin chroniclers can be gained by examining some brief excerpts from their works. Early Latin references to independent Muslim sea-raiders from Iberia appear in the Royal Frankish Annals, the Annals of Fulda, and Einhard’s Vita Karoli Magni, which discuss the activities of the Andalusis against the Frankish and Italian coasts during the late eighth and early ninth centuries. For the years 798 and 799, the Royal Frankish Annals describe how the “Mauri et Sarraceni” plundered the Balearic Islands in what the Annals describe as “praedonum incursione,” which can be translated as “piracy,” while the Annals of Fulda refer to “mauri piratae” and “Mauris praedatum” in the years 798 and 808 respectively.[8] Similarly, Einhard, in his Vita Karoli Magni, explains how the Frankish and Italian coast, from Narbonne to Rome, was fortified by Charlemagne due to the fact that it was constantly ravaged by “Mauros piracticam.”[9] These references clearly show that the actions of the Muslim sea-raiders in the early part of the ninth century were characterized as piracy by the Latin chroniclers.

Contemporary Latin chroniclers cited the resurgence in Muslim sea-raids against the Frankish coast in the mid-ninth century as a continuation of this earlier period of “piracy.” The Annals of St. Bertin, for example, narrate the sack of Marseille in 838 by “saracenorum piratae,” and describe the Arab raid on Arles in 842 by “maurorum piratae.”[10] When discussing the Andalusi Muslim attacks on the Provençal coast, the author of the Life of Beuve of Noyers refers to “paganorum piratarum,” and decries how “the Iberians laid waste to Provence” (Hispanicolae devastant Provinciam).[11] In the descriptions of the activities of the Muslims by the Latin chroniclers, a heavy emphasis is placed on the devastative (maurorum devastant, mauri irruenes), the destructive (destruendos saracenos, paganorum destructum, depopulantes terram), and the deadly (paganorum adnihilatam, saraceni trucidatur, callidus exactor) aspects of their incursions.[12] The way in which the Muslims and their raids are described by Frankish chroniclers from the mid-ninth century onwards is more detailed and elaborate than how they were described in the earlier part of the century by the Royal Frankish Annals and by Einhard. In addition to maintaining continuity in the label they gave to Muslims who occupied Fraxinetum at the end of the ninth century (“Saracen pirates”), the chroniclers described their raids as being more devastating and destructive than earlier “pirate” incursions.[13]

Moreover, the Latin chroniclers not only describe the Muslims and their activities within the context of piracy, but also present their incursions in terms similar to the raids of the Norsemen (piratae Danorum) and Magyars (Ungariorum gens, Hungari), who were concurrently plaguing western Europe in the ninth and tenth centuries.[14] The major source of information about the establishment of Fraxinetum and the political history of the Muslims there is Liutprand, the bishop of Cremona, writing in the mid-tenth century. Liutprand and many other Latin chroniclers of the time portray the Muslims of Fraxinetum as infidel “pirates,” who were threatening the very heart of Christendom, and who raided, desecrated, and burned monasteries because of their “pagan” disdain for Christianity.

During the ninth and tenth centuries, the areas encompassing modern-day France, Switzerland, Italy, and Germany were being assaulted by three main groups: the Vikings, the Magyars, and the Andalusi/North African Muslims. As the main external threat to Latin Christendom, they were depicted almost monolithically as invading barbarian hordes, ravaging western Europe from three different directions.[15] More specifically, the invasions of the Vikings and the Muslims were both represented as manifestations of God’s wrath against the perceived impiety of the Frankish kingdom.[16] The sensitivity of the Latin chroniclers to the Viking and Muslim destruction of monasteries is especially apparent, and seems to inform their theological perspective on the invasions, since they viewed such attacks not only as manifestations of divine displeasure, but also as reflective of “pagan” hatred for Christianity.[17] By recognizing that the Latin chroniclers described both the Vikings and the Muslims in similar terms, as God’s instrument for chastising faithless Christians for their sins, it becomes less puzzling why the Muslims of Fraxinetum were depicted as faceless invaders. The characterization of their raids in the Annals of St. Victor of Marseille as God’s divine rod of chastisement against the Christians (“Deus flagellare vellet populum christianum per seviciam paganorum, gens barbaric in regno Provence irruenes”), and the lamentation by Alcuin of York of the Viking devastations in Northumbria using the words of an Old Testament prophet (“Uae genti peccatrici, populo graui iniquitate, filiis sceleratis; derlinquunt Deum et blasphemauerunt sanctum saluatorem mundi in sceleribus suis”– Isaiah 1:4), are both demonstrative of the fact that the Muslim raids in Provence were viewed in the same light as the depredations of the Vikings in the North, i.e., as punishment for the sins of Christendom.[18]

Hence, the representation of the Muslims as one-dimensional “pirates” needs to be understood within the context of the simultaneous Viking incursions, which made the Latin Christians feel particularly vulnerable to outside attacks, and which they depicted almost unanimously as “piracy.” On another level, the characterization of the Vikings and the Muslims as instruments of God’s anger shows that the Latin chroniclers viewed the invading flotillas as a military threat that would eventually subside, rather than as permanent ideological or religious rivals.[19] Contextualizing the Muslim invasion in this way provides a clearer indication of why the Latin Christian chroniclers were, understandably, more concerned with outlining the devastation and horrors associated with the raids, than with attempting to identify and describe with precision the Muslims of Fraxinetum.

(The area surrounding Fraxinetum is today known as Massif des Maures, an indication of the collective memory of the presence of the Andalusis, or Mauri as they were known in Latin)

In order to more fully appreciate the value of the Latin chronicles as useful sources about Fraxinetum, the polemical content of the sources needs to be separated from the informative and substantive evidence that they provide. Although all Latin documents agree that the Muslims had a negative impact on Provence, and that their base at Fraxinetum was only contributing to the regional turmoil, they differ in describing the nature of the Muslim settlement there. The Chronicle of Novalesa, for example, describes Fraxinetum as “a place on the coast near Arles,” Liutprand of Cremona describes it as “a village between Italy and Provence,” Ekkehard’s Casus S. Galli refers to a “valley,” and another contemporary author, Sigebert of Gembloux, refers to it as a “castle.”[20] Moreover, the fortress itself is described variously as a castrum (fortified outpost), a villa (rural agricultural dwelling), and an oppidum (town).[21]

These divergent terms each carry a completely different meaning; depending on whether Fraxinetum is interpreted as being a castrum or an oppidum, the implications for the question of whether it was a raiding outpost or a civic entity on the frontier between the Islamic world and Christendom are very great. Another anonymous Latin chronicler describes how some Muslims had settled and were living unarmed among the local Provençal townsfolk in the vicinity of Fraxinetum, and that intermarriage with indigenous Christians had become common practice for the Muslims in the area, a fact that is greatly revealing about the nature of Muslim settlement in the region, and raises questions about their social and ethnic identity.[22] It was not uncommon for significant numbers of Christians to participate in the many raids of Muslims in the Mediterranean during the early Middle Ages, especially since the Latin sources testify to the presence of “renegades” (either Christian converts to Islam or simply rebels against local authority) in Fraxinetum. This further encourages us to think of the frontier as representing a far more fluid political and social reality, encompassing a vast array of activities and possibilities.

In order to identify whether the Muslim settlement at Fraxinetum was limited to a castle, town, or even a region, it is important to take into account the contemporary Arabic sources. Unlike the Latin chronicles, the representation of Fraxinetum in the Muslim sources is far more sympathetic. Most information from a Muslim view comes from Arabic geographical works. Unfortunately, there are only three surviving contemporary Arabic sources that make mention of Fraxinetum, and, unlike the detailed Latin sources, they provide scarce information about it. The two main sources are Al-Istakhri’s Kitab al-Masalik wa al-Mamalik, and Ibn Hawqal’s Surat al-Ard. Al-Istakhri, who was writing during the mid-tenth century, describes Jabal al-Qilal (Fraxinetum) as a mountainous country, which the Muslims inhabited and developed to the dismay of the Franks, with many streams and rivers, and explains that it took two days to cross it by foot.[23] Istakhri also notes that the region surrounding Fraxinetum was a neglected area, and that the arrival of the Muslims and their subsequent settlement there led to its prosperity. Furthermore, he states that the Muslims were in a constant struggle with the local authorities (“Frankish infidels”) of the land, and emphasizes the strategic importance of the base by exclaiming that “if not for this mountain [i.e., Fraxinetum] the lands of Islam would be in grave danger!”[24] This latter statement implies that he, a scholar from the eastern Islamic lands, attaches to an isolated fortress-city located in the western Mediterranean, suggests that he viewed Fraxinetum as a ribat, or frontier state, similar to other frontier fortresses on the frontier between Christendom and Islam in the Mediterranean.

Ibn Hawqal elaborates on al-Istakhri’s writing by describing Fraxinetum as the main stronghold of the mujahideen (holy warriors) who were victorious in the land of the Franks, and observes that it was very productive agriculturally due largely to the fertile soil, multitude of land, and water currents that flowed there. He also re-emphasizes Istakhri’s point that it was the arrival of the Muslims which caused the region to flourish.[25] He explains that for security reasons the Muslims fortified the mountain above the settlement by building a fortress, which was only accessible by one narrow path.[26] It appears that Ibn Hawqal viewed Fraxinetum primarily as a viable agricultural settlement housing frontier warriors, whose military character was necessitated by the hostile environment and security concerns, not to mention their supposed raison d’être in Provence: jihad. His description, similar to Istakhri’s, corresponds very closely to the modern scholarly understanding of a medieval Islamic ribat/frontier state, and allows scholars to draw comparisons with the frontier states located on the border region between the Abbasids and Byzantium in Anatolia in the Near East or even the later ghazi Turkish emirates on the frontiers of the Byzantine and Serbian empires in the fourteenth century.[27]

Another tenth-century geographical work, Hudud al-Alam, written by an anonymous Persian traveler and dated to 982, describes Fraxinetum as an inhabitable mountain on the Mediterranean Sea, which is in close proximity to the Italian Peninsula. The author of Hudud al-Alam also adds that “[to the] west of Jabal al-Qilal is a mountain, whose summit is so high that it cannot be reached, and from [this region] comes game, timber, and fuel,” a rare indication of the economic importance of the region of Provence that the Muslims occupied.[28] Despite the brevity of these three geographical sources, two of which were written in Persian and one in Arabic, they are extremely helpful in describing the nature of the Muslim presence in Provence. Due to the scarcity of the Arabic sources, it is far more difficult to conceptualize Fraxinetum in terms of a cultural or economic center, as recent studies have shown for Andalusi Crete, but archaeological evidence has shown that the Muslim presence in Provence was more multi-faceted than has previously been thought.

Scholars have recently elaborated on the nature of the agricultural, semi-industrial, and other, non-hostile ventures of the Muslims of Fraxinetum. The argument has been made that the introduction of buckwheat, originating from Iran, into Provence was initiated by the Andalusis, a fact possibly indicated by etymology, since it is referred to as “blé sarrasin” in the Provençal dialect of the French language.[29] In addition to the introduction of buckwheat, it has been speculated, based on local legend, that cork tree cultivation and the method of turning pine-resin into pine-tar for the strengthening of wooden ships was begun by the Muslims; indeed, the Arabic name for Fraxinetum, “Jabal al-Qilal,” is a reference to this practice.[30] Moreover, the presence of distinctly Arab and Berber agricultural and pastoral practices can also be inferred from the fact that certain species of goats native to North Africa are herded in Provence, while the raising of pigs is rare, a detail that can be attributed to the period of the Andalusi Muslim presence.[31] The archaeological remains of pottery, metallurgy (mines commonly referred to as le trou de Sarrasins and gallerie sarrasine have been identified near Grimaud, La Garde-Freinet, and Plan de Tour), the manufacture of weapons (forges have been excavated in Tende and La Feriére), and forestry have also been cited as indicative that non-military activities were relatively widespread at Fraxinetum, and that there were possibly artisans and other skilled Muslims among the warriors there.[32]

(The village of Ramatuelle, known in the Middle Ages as Ramatuella, probably deriving from the Arabic Rahmatu Allah meaning “God’s Mercy,” was in the heartland of the Andalusi-controlled region of Provence)

It can be inferred from the works of Ibn Hawqal and al-Istakhri that the Muslims were not only “mujahideen” who held Fraxinetum as a defensible, frontier outpost for Islam, but also engaged in other activities such as irrigated farming and trade with the rest of the Islamic world, exporting their produce as well as timber and fuel. The impression given from Hudud al-Alam is that of an economically viable region, from where timber and combustible fuel could be procured. It is therefore apparent that the Muslim sources depict Fraxinetum not as a mere raiding outpost but as a defensible, self-sustaining Andalusi political entity in the midst of a largely-hostile Frankish/Christian population. Muslim sources depict the region of southern Provence as unproductive and undeveloped until the arrival of the Muslims, who reinvigorated the region economically and caused it to flourish. Therefore, the statements by Syrus and Liutprand claiming that “the Saracens transformed the realm into a desert” is strongly contradicted by the Arabic sources, which boast how the Muslims caused the unproductive and empty landscape of southern Provence to thrive.

Although neither the Latin nor the Arabic sources give a balanced perspective, when read in conjunction with each other they can be greatly useful in providing a clearer view of Fraxinetum. It can safely be asserted, based on the existing evidence described above, that Fraxinetum was a fortified outpost (castrum) populated by Muslim frontier warriors who were in constant struggle (jihad) with the Franks in Provence, and whose activities included not only destructive raids that tormented the Provencal Christians, but also more peaceful activities such as farming and trade. Therefore, it is useful to think of Fraxinetum as an Islamic frontier fortress, which had a military disposition and a socio-economic element. Fraxinetum was settled by the Andalusis and developed into a commercial and military center with the intention of using the base as an outpost with a clearly defined purpose; in fact, Fraxinetum housed hundreds (possibly thousands) of ghazi warriors and possessed a relatively large fleet consisting of an estimated 12 to 15 medium-sized vessels.[33] Although neither the Arabic or Latin sources provide extensive evidence in this regard, it is also plausible that Fraxinetum was a major source of slaves as a result of its relationship with the slave-trading center of Verdun in central Francia during this period. Many of these slaves (originating from Central Europe) would have probably ended up in al-Andalus and formed the basis of a new military and social class of Saqaliba. However, in the absence of more authoritative evidence, the specific role of Fraxinetum in this Western Mediterranean slave trade must remain largely conjectural.